Year: 1873

the needle again, but then you Know
''those who dance must pay the fiddler,
and dancing is just as sure to make
holes in stockings as it is to give pleas
ure Now, while we all indulge in this
more profitable than amusing pastine,
I'll tell you the story Of darned stock
ing,and how it helped to make me what
| am-an old maid in the world.


see that thought don't reconcile
you particle to the business in hand,
but girls, whether you marry or remain
single, whether you are happy wives
and mothers some day, or like your aunt
Ellen, 90 through the world alone, an
cold maid" should be glad to think
that your lives would be as bright as
mine is and has been, even if, like mine
they should be brighted ouly by memo
ries and dreams. Yes, in this world |
am an .old maid," and don't mind be-
ing calculated so either, for | have al
ways kept bright as morning, and in
my heart ''the love of lite's young day,


and now, after twenty years of patient
waiting, / know that son the other
side" John is waiting, as | am, for the
meeting that some day will be witnessed
by God and his angels-those who, like
myself, have borne the cross below in
sorrow and sadness, but, through faith
in Him, have risen with the crowd Of
glory to dwell externally in the heav-
ems"


John and I grew up together, loving
each other from the time we commenc
ed our alb abs in the same class in nschool
side by side. OF course the children
laughed at us, but whether our cloves
were WISER our hearts truer, all the fun
missed its mark, and we continued 'llt-
tie lovers though no words Of love
were spoken, no promises asked or Civ
en-, but he knew, as / did, that in the
wide, wide world no other would care
for him as did the little girl he'd grown
strong beside-almost grown to mans
estate. Johns people had great riches
aud high expectations for him, their
Oldest boy, and 1 hardly know if they
felt most pride or pain in the parting
that took him away from his quiet home
to enter the university where he was to
complete his education. All during the
long winter months Of his absence |
had his home coming to look forward
to, and then occasionally had letter,
or note slipped into his mothers let
ters, in which he told me of his college
life, and how he hoped some day to
make his old friends proud of him as
well as fond Still no words of loye,
and he never even said, Ellen, should
like to give you the right to be fondest
and proudest, but in my heart / knew
John was all mine, and that in good
time he would ask me to be all his own.
The time for his graduating was draw
ing near, and such reports as his mother
and sister gave Of the grand speech that
John was to make, and they had me to
read the copy he had sent home. They
went to hear him aud see him receive
the congratulations Of his class and
Faculty, for his university career had
been an unusually promising one. Then
they all came home together, and John
came t. me just as in the old, childish
DAYS, and our old, familiar intercourse
was resumed, and we were happy as l
believe only youths and maidens are.


One day we were riding along quietly,
as was our almost daily custom, when
Just in front of us, into the long, smooth
grass, there dropped bird, and imme-
diatcly a hawk with piercing shrek,
darted upon it, and a combat ensued,
in the midst of which the horse was
riding became frightened and ran-ran
through the dense pine forest, where
the limbs of the tree were down to the
earth and the ground thick with the
fallen pine leaves of ages, making it al
most as slippery as ice. On, on we
went, clinging in desperation to the
saddle, till on the hill side, down which
was being carried with lightning
speed, the horse lost his footing and
fell, crushing and bruising my poor foot
and ankle under his great body. lie
lay there moaning like mountain Of
pain, and faint and in agony. In mo-
ment | heard Johns horse coming little
less rapidly than my own had done, and
in another instant be was by my side.
The pent-up love of these long years
poured from his lips as he kissed me
again and again, and me to live for his
sake. OF course his anxiety was much
greater than my injuries, though he
would have me remove the shoe and
stocking from my wounded foot, or
rather broken ankle. He carried me
home most gently, but twas the last
ride ever taken on that horse, for his
injuries were so great that he died be-
fore John could improvise an arrange
ment for getting me safe home.


Not long after that John was admit
ted to the bar, and went to practice law
in large city far away; not, however,
till we had expressed all the love We
had been learning in the old school
house, that had grown SO dear to both
our hearts, and had strengthened so
since those early days when we were
boy and girl together John was max
inc name for himself; and his letters
were full of love, and promise, and
hopes of the home to which he was
soon coming to take me. In my own
quiet way l was happy and content, be-
lieying in John and his love, aud trust