She seemed to know when neighbors were ill; hers was the dignity of being
indispensable. Many the mother of that region who, standing beneath
some cloud, thanked God as this slender, white-haired soul with star
shine in her face, hurried over the fields with an old volume pasted full
of quaint remedies.

She made a call of another kind--just once--when the "Hitchenses"
brought the first organ to "Cold Friday."

She remained only long enough to go straight to the cabinet, which the
assembled neighbors regarded with distant awe, and play several pieces
"without the book." On her leaving with the same quiet indifference, Mrs.
Ephraim Fivecoats peered owlishly toward Mrs. Rome Lukens and rendered
the following upon her favorite instrument:

"Well! if that woman ever gits the fever an' gits deliriums, I want
to be round, handy like. I'll swan there'll be more interestin' things
told than we've heerd in our born days--that woman is allus thinkin'!"

In this final respect, the judgment of the Lady of the House of Fivecoats
was sound.

How gallant the mind is! If the past be sad, it mingles with Diversion's
multitude till Sadness is lost; if the present be unhappy, it has a
magic thrift of joys, and Unhappiness is hushed by Memory's laughter;
if both past and present have a grief, it seeks amid its scanty store for
some event, for instance, whose recurrence brings some brightness; to
greet this it sends affectionate anticipations--and were its quiver empty,
it would battle still some way!