Was It A Mistake?

1 aui an old vvouiau now, the hair that once was so brown and curlcd so softly is thickly strown vvith gray; tho cheeks that once wero round and rosy are sunken and palc; the form lias lost some of its erectness, the step is no longer brisk and free; but my heart is as warm and loving as ever, I think, for 1 know how tenderly and closely it chrishes ihe mcniory of tho doar, dear friends, who gavo to tbc passing yoars tlieir all of joy or briijhtness. It is a littlo strangê that among all the greetings and partings that my Hfe lias known, there is but ono touch, ono handejasp, that can novor ho forgotten, that never leaves me. How many, mauy times, through the years that bavo gone' by sinco last I lookèd upon a certain dark, handsomo face, it has seem' ed as though 1 feit again that clasp, true, strong and tender; espeeially wlien 1 was in deep sorrow, and in my dreams it has come bringing with it the same thrill of delight, and leaving behind it a feeling of haring received loring comfort, We were school-mates, he and 1, when we wero children; and when our school days wero orer, he still sought me, still seat me messongers of different kinds to teil me that I was held in his thoughts, as he grew onward into strong and beautiful manhood. Ah! 1 wonder if he ever thinks of those days now. If he remembers our rarables. our gay nonscnse, the joyous laughter tbat bubbles up so lightly and freely irom happy hearts, if he remembers our earnest talks, which I would Bever let go beyond a certain point of earnestness, or a oertain point of personal interest. I remcnber telling hini one day, we were in the country then, that it was 'impossible to procure a horse in that place either for love or rooney," and 1 remember with a feeling that is inore than "akin to pain" the look on his face as ho replied, 'Til engage to önd you a horse - for love." I received the reply as though it were simply intended as a merry, joking, rejoiner, - but ah. dear heart, I knew it was earnest. Most distinct of all the pictures I have of him, is the pictured meinory of the last day we werp. together. It is sorroiv to remember it, but it would be greater. keener sorrow ever to forget it. He crime as he had come so many times before, and, as befóte, we hf.d a merry, innrry time, talking and laughing, joking and parrying jokes. At last, we were having a mimic quarrel ver gomethiug we had ie i in the paper, ho protested that the statement was made in one way, and I, that it was another. ' I gotihe paper, saying "I would prove myself rigüt," - but Ineverknew which was right, for he came, sat down beside me, and was ''going toseefoi kimself," he said, as he too held one sido of the paper; but he slipped tho other hand down and clasped the one of mino that lay in my lap - the dear, close clasp, it anus niy luart vet, and I am sure if 1 haü kt-pt it, had had it all my life, it would imve made everything so ruuch easier and happier than it has been. I Iet my hand lie in his for a moment, thinking that then I would release it without itseoming on purpose, for I did not vvish to hurt him; als I did hun him far, far worsc, for in an instant the paper was gliding to our feet on the floor, and he was gathering me close in his aras, and that I daro not let him do - I daro not trust myself - for I was young, and father, mot'her, friend. one and all, wero opposed to h'rn. There was not one auiong them all who would nothavedisapprovedof and condemmed him as my choice. I know that his father was not a very good man, but his mother was ono of the truut and noblest of ivomen. So, I have spent my lifo alone, and in nsidering ;he on lorg unanswered question, whethcr 1 did not make a grievous mistako; for, I brokefrom him that night. I made him .understand that our pathways must bc separate. And, when a few mornonts later, J heard the other members of the family coming, I hurridly took up a book, the flrst ono at hand, and when they entered we two wero sitting side by sida, I looking av and talking of tho Ilustrations in Nicholas Nicklebj-. 1 havo not boen ablo to seo that work sinco without a quiver of pain. We sat all tho evening, ho with his arm throwD over tho back of iny chair ín sucb a manner that when I leaned back J rested against il, and I with a book lyíng ouon in my lap. He nover changed his position nntü tho clock ch'med out the hoor Of midnight; then he rose, sald "good-night," simply shaking nn hand at partiug as ho did the otter, and went away - forever. I hear of him sometimos, of his gentleness, his goodness. his patiecce. ] hear of deeds whicu could onlv come from a noble heart. I never Inquire, but I listen so eagerly, so hungrily to every word concerning him, tor though we were young then, and now we are oíd, I still remember. And still 1 ask myself, was it all a mistake that I shoufd have let him go his way alono. Sometimos I say to myself that perhaps if we had been gethei, he would not have grown to bo tlio man he is; but, in rny lonely heart I do not belicve it. íf it were not a mistake, then it is all right. And if il were, the suffering and loneliness have been long. they will flnd their end onl when tiiis earthly life ends; but then "in the world that sets this right," per haps we may meet, and nnderstand; tnd I shall bp forgiven and cheered and helped forever by that clasping hand ifhose memorj is within me uhvays.