90
WEST SHORE.
TWO DAYS.
I eraaed daiaiod Aald : the ikiee inn fair
The lnety tnee etrttohed from nil overhead I
The ran hook fold doet tiro' the April ir,
And 1 (Ud brook leaped don lie pebbled bed.
The meadow Urk flan, oat mob Hqnid notee,
My happy eoal etood itill ud leaned to beer t
The wild eanartee doffed their yellow mil,
And turned their reeUeei heede in Jeeioae feer.
And, 0, my boert wm fled, for It ww eprini l
Blue, bin, Uie dappled ekiee that ewong above !
Bat etlll mora glad my eon , remembering
The world wee iweet to me beeanw of lore,
II,
I craned 1 lonely Held : the ekiee wen (ray
The wlnde orept In from ana with eollen moani i
Ioe4ooked, loe-bonnd, the brook grieved night and day,
Abort the hollow ionnd of falling e
With dramming wlnge the mottled pheaeant flew l
The gboetly tnee reaohed barren arma aoroea i
And, 0, my heart wea aad-eo well I knew
The winter world waa dull beoanee of lorn
Tlit other day a young Mend of mine tat on a tow (tool, writing-pad
on her knew, nd a big pucker on her brow. Presently the lifted two
despairing eyet to me, and (aid helpleialjr :
" I tm writing to t gentlemtn whom I htve never met, but with whom
I htvt had conaideroble correepondenca. He hu been very kind to me in
A delicate way, and I tm writing to tlitnk him. How thtll I address him?
1 My dear ilr ' toundi to cold, doee it not? "
" It certainly dost," I replied, laughing at her perplexity; "if the
gentleman hat been kind to yon he deaervet tomething a trifle more friendly
than that. Why not begin note 1 My dear Mr. Blank T 1 "
Bht dealt me an unmistakable look of conaternation. " What I " the
exclaimed, in a ton fairly brlttling with diaapproval and resentment.
" Why, he It married I "
" Wall," I uid, laughing outright, " what if he It married T It it not
going to break hit marriage vowt for you to eddreet him at ' dear Mr.
Dlank.' It it a mere matter of form, to common, Indeed, thtt It meant
nothing aave that you have a kindly lntereet in him. It it a beautiful way
to begin a letter warm enough to be friendly, aulllclently brief to be busl
nett like, and cool enough to be formal. Put 1 my ' before the adjective
and you Increaae the formality, Jutt u the cloce of the letter ' I tm yourt
tlnoerely ' it more formal than aimply ' yourt tlncerely.' "
" Well," tald my young friend, drawing t long breath of relief, " that
U perfectly lovely, If yon are ture about It. Why, a few monlbt ago I wrote
A letter to a gentleman and addreated him at ' dear Mr. Bo-and-so; ' and
Aunt Helen aaw It, and from the way the looked at me I thought I thould
die of mortification. 1 It I: poatlble,' (aid the, and I with you could have
heard the emphatla It waa tragic, ' that a niece of mind bat come to UiitT
To call A man dear I ' I tried to explain that I didn't mean anything, but
the only moaned and wrong her handt, and laid I waa on the road to
destruction. I felt dreadfully about II, became I thought the ought to know,
and t) Uiit day I have never written 1 dear Mr. Anybody.' "
" But," laid I, " conaider. Your correspondent la a 1 tir ' and he it a
'uilaUr;' why thould 'dear mltter' be more familiar than 'dear tir?'
Again, at ' my dear air ' It conaldered more courteoui and elegant than
'deaf ilr, to I think 'my dear Mr. Blank' la preferable to 'dear Mr.
Blank.' "
The rote 111 trailed, and to did the violets above them ; and I observed
that " my dear Mr. Blank " grew beneath Ihe firmly held pen on the amooth
paper; and wot it me if ever Aunt Helen leamt tint I have raveled her
crooked itltt-hea out of the fabric of my young friend'a mind.
.i Wntiful Ivrics of Bums owe their ezietence
"TTh 2d ofiSJy St Would George Sand fan,
to u,e v.ce wh, b led W her teQay
written ' Consue ,o or E I el rf
Uonal matron? 1 hy, ee We aU know that the world is full
7wZ::, shine, of genius never be-
Ll Insomedarit, far foreat . bird may aing forever tweeter than ever
sang before, and it may, too, die of that very pasaion of melody in if
S t e bit and nobody hear, or know, or care; to . to icel e , genius may
I in.lonely breast in tome quiet country or in the fobbing heart of
The city, "d the mad world never hear it or recogmae it. If we begin to
excuse breaking of the law of morality by genuises, bow would we dare
to draw the line, or aay who had the eoul of the geniu.? I Am afraid we
woS ta meeting them at every turn. Would it not be better to leave
geniu. out, and aay with a tublim. charity: " The .trong-paseioned one.
enjoy and suffer, and die of that very enjoyment and suffering; And you
who have more calmly flowing blood and paler pawions, judge them not,
for you do not understand. Though their pleasure, unto your, are like red
deet wine unto water, their soilerings therefore are like the terrible passions
of a lion unto the frolic, of the lamb, or like the wild lashing of a mighty
ocean to the low laughter of a mountain rill." But even then would we not
all be crying from the house-topa that our passion, were .tronger than our
nature's strength, and that we had been tempted beyond all endurance t
For our every sin, brothers, from the first white lie to the foulest murder
have we not ever our own excuse?
" Auntie," .aid my little niece one day, " what is a bore ? " "A bore,"
responded I with cheerful Alacrity, for I can always answer a question like
that with happiness, " a bore, my dear, is a person who talk, a great deal
about himself and what interests him only; who tells yon all About him
self and his family and bis coat of arms; who spreads his dress out in the
street car (" III. dress! 0, auntie I " from my listener) so no one can tit
down ; who says when she I mean he meets you, ' Why, deerest, how ill
you are looking! You are really falling off dreadfully in looks. Is It the
wearing of yonr hair' with such a smile-' or it it the wearing of the
years? ' Who tells you that he it your true friend, that he always defends
yon from your enemies, and that he h'm it called upon to do to every
day of his life; who tells you that your new gown does very well, Indeed,
considering that it was not made by a stylish milliner; who comet to din.
with you without an invitation, and ays he knew he would be welcome at
Any time ; who tell, you that the that it, he thinkt It a thame that people
should not like you, and ehould aay auch ugly things of you; who"
" Auntie," interrupted my little niece, solemnly, dropping her round
chin Into the palm of her band and looking at me with very large eyes,
Indeed, " what very dreadful people bores are don't you think to?"
" Very," replied I, briskly, for I wit just waxing eloquent and didn't
relish Interruption; " and a bore it"
" But, auntie," again interrupted the child, and she edged a little nearer
to my knee in the firelight, " might not a person who it always telling
about other bores, heraell be considered a bo"
" Well, for the asking of Irrelevant and senseless questions," retorted
I, rising and pushing my chair back with tome vindictlvenest, " commend
me to a niece!"
Such boret at children are, anyhow.
Brethren, life It, alter all, not so much t straggle between the rich And
the poor, the prosperou. and the unfortunate, the ttrong and the weak, at it
It one long, passionate struggle between the body and that free, wild, death
leas thing that we name the soul. The one drags us down, bat the other
holds fast forever and says, " Come higher." There it nothing like it on
earth, aave the love of a good woman.
If any one who hue eyes to see and a heart to love can read Browning's
" Meeting at Night and " Parting at Morning " and honestly say he doe.
not understand them, It is because those eyes are dull and that heart hu
never loved. Nothing finer in sentiment and passion was ever written.
An Kngliah critic It of the opinion that the llvee of men end women of
genlut art exceptional In the tenae of not ahaolutcly conforming with the
conventional atandard of propriety. He cltet at proof of tliia statement the
live of Marlowe, Byron, Burnt, Shakespeare, Shelley, George Sand, George
Kllot, and many others ; but hi conveniently forget, how white and true
were the live of Mn. Browning, Jean Ingelow, Helen Hunt Jackaon, the
Oary ilelert, And A host ol others, Pid (heat women, then, have no genlua?
Further, thla critic eeerai rather to lean to tin opinion tint geniut It ex
empted from the ordinary law of moral reaponaiblllly, and he aaka : " Who
That one't head anggesU great possibilities meant nothing unless It
suggeata, also, great firmness, great patience, great virtue.
For every Utile child that d'es Is there a new flower opens In the spring
a white flower?
a chin"01111" " 11,6 '"10W " "V" k hen Pul cleft h
I