never do to give up, and go to groaning when we get into trouble.
What you want is to get out of it. To help you in the best way, you
must give me an old woman's privilege, and let me speak my mind
freely. I think I know the secret of the trouble. Your nerves are
sick--people used to think that meant hysterics, but they know better
now. You are overworking these sick nerves. The first thing to be
done is for you to get relief from everything that tries you, as far
as you can. Treat yourself like an invalid, as you are. Then change
your way of life entirely: go out a good deal in the air, read, and
talk, and sing, and play on the piano--you used to be a good player,
I remember. Let the housework and the sewing be done by somebody
else, except what you can do without a strain upon yourself. Then I
should be a little careful about my dress, to have it becoming and
all that, and I would invite in a little company once in a while, and
go out in a sociable way a little, and try to make my home just the
brightest, cheeriest place in all the world. Economy is good in its
place, but I believe Satan is even at the bottom of that sometimes,
when we drive our boys and girls out from home by saving coal and
gas, and shutting the sun out of our houses--they like brightness as
well as the birds do. You see you can't tell me anything new on this.
I made all these mistakes myself once."

"But Aunt Deborah," said Mrs. Murray, "I am surprised. I thought you
used to be such a strict Christian."

"Used to be such a strict Pharisee, you mean," Aunt Deborah answered;
"used to imagine religion consisted in wearing the ugliest garment I
could put on, combing my hair straight back in a hard knot, being 'a
keeper at home,' and making things generally uncomfortable for
everybody. Now I think a Christian is one who loves and obeys his