Medoline Selwyn's Work

love for painting, and had for years prosecuted the art more from love than duty. My last teacher, an old German Professor, exacting and very thorough, had been as particular with my inst

ell known face which long afterward looked out at me one day from my own reflection in the mirror and then, to my joy, I discovered I was like her in feature and expression. In the library too, whose key Mr. Winthrop had left with Mrs. Flaxman for my use, I found an unexplored wonderland. My literature had chiefly consisted of the text book variety, and if I had possessed wider range, my time was so fully occupied with lessons I could not have availed myself of the privilege; but now, with what relish I went from shelf to shelf, dipping into a book here and another there, taking by turns poetry, history, fiction, and biography, Shakespeare and Milton had so often perplexed me in Grammar and analysis, that I left them for the most part severely alone; but there were others, fresh and new to me as a June morning, and quite as refreshing: Hubert used sometimes to join me, but we generally disagreed. I had little patience with his practical criticisms of my choicest readings, while he assured me my enthusiasm over my favorite authors was a clear waste of sentiment. Mrs. Flaxman was, in ad

the main to help others in the way of life rather than, like myself, living to themselves alone. Altogether I did not find a moment

regarded the fashions, I verily believe they could have enlightened Worth himself on some important particulars. I used to feel sadly out of place, and sat very often silent and constrained, thinking of my dearer, and more satisfying companionships of books, and sea, and flowers, and the fair face of nature generally, and wondering if I could ever get, like them, absorbed in such humble things, getting for instance my pickles nicely greened, and

ects that most interest them. Not every one has vision c

and that class? Even she talks sometimes to me about God and the so

better in His sight than any of

r friend," I said, clasping t

thers than I, sacrificing their own ease a

aking home, and me so happy? I want t

er ideal than I am to pattern afte

at our lives seem like to the angels, and that many a one will get an overwhelming surprise after death; some who think they are

ear, if we could only hope

f God's blessed ones if she wished-tha

need to go to Mrs. B

ll round our little log house was the green trees," she said one day, the pleasant reflective look that I liked to see coming into her kind, strong face. I used to sit and listen to her homely, uncultivated speech, and wonder why I liked her so much better than my natural associates. She was so real, I could not imagine her trying to appear other than she was. Some way she seemed to take me back to elementary things, like the memories of childhood or the reading of the Book of Gen

knit for o

fur one of the Chisties' down the lane

o pay you?" I ve

. It's a pity for little feet to go bare bec

done anything more useful than to hold a text book, or sketch, or practice on the ivory keys, while those ot

o knit," I said one day, sei

time. Folks like you don't

ken hose is quite the fashio

akes you wan

uty to work for the poor, an

n't pity the poor, no more'n a person that's never be

as warm, though, as if I kn

on some feet if they know'd

asure to the warmth of the socks

u. Byem-bye when you get interested in other things, you won't care to set in my kitc

ng to you seems like watching the old-fashioned flowers nodding their heads in the drowsy summer air. I like the rare flowers, too, with lon

keep a warm place in your heart for the

in the knitting," I said, without any further attemp

ut was forced to stop very often to admire my own handicraft. However, I got on so readily that she allowed I could undertake a child's sock. I wanted it t

the size of my bundle, assuring me that

hamed to carry such a big p

ccur to me to

ws who they ma

hing to be

t quality has suc

to her poor neighbors, began unfolding histories from time to time, as I sat in her tidy kitchen, that to me seemed to rise to the dignity of tragedies. Sometimes I begged to accompany her to these sorrowful homes. The patience under overwhelming sorrow that I saw at times, gave me new glimpses into the possibilities of human endura