every gray stone of the old towers, every ancient tree and hedge in
the gardens, every thought in my once melancholy self. All that
was old is young, and all that was sad is glad, and I am the
gladdest of all. Whatever heaven may be, there is no earthly
paradise without woman, nor is there anywhere a place so desolate,
so dreary, so unutterably miserable that a woman cannot make it
seem heaven to the man she loves and who loves her.

I hear certain cynics laugh, and cry that all that has been said
before. Do not laugh, my good cynic. You are too small a man to
laugh at such a great thing as love. Prayers have been said before
now by many, and perhaps you say yours, too. I do not think they
lose anything by being repeated, nor you by repeating them. You
say that the world is bitter, and full of the Waters of Bitterness.
Love, and so live that you may be loved--the world will turn sweet
for you, and you shall rest like me by the Waters of Paradise.


From "The Play-Actress and the Upper Berth," by F. Marion Crawford.
Copyright, 1896, by G. P. Putnam's Sons.



Mary E. Wilkins Freeman

The Shadows on the Wall


"Henry had words with Edward in the study the night before Edward
died," said Caroline Glynn.