, which have borne
him so lightly over the rugged earth, shall have lost their plumage, he
will stumble at every pebble, and welcome the decline of life's
hill-side, which assists his tardy steps.--Who is Mercury?--Dear Mrs.
A., 't is only a name for our Tommy, not bestowed by the clergyman who
officiated at his baptism.

You thought my subject a very vulgar one. Why, Madam, as it opens upon
me, I see all the hopes, dreams, fears, cares, and joys of life passing
before me. Do you remember those wedding-slippers of yours? They were
quite unlike these slip-shod things I have perched on the chair before
me. When you fitted them on so joyously, and prepared for the journey
for which they were put on,--so short, (from your chamber to your
parlor,) and yet so long, (from your blooming youth to your wrinkled
age,)--did you think they would last the distance through? They were
long ago thrown by. You may have them yet. Some people love to garner up
and cherish mementos of the dead; and dead enough are the tremulous
flutterings they then upbore. Long ago buried were the gay-tinted
visions of those first days of the journey. Bring them out now, and let
us look at them.--Is it possible that you ever thought those
old-fashioned things pretty? Can it be that those dingy, shapeless
affairs could have borne you up to the empyrean? My dear Madam, they
went with you to the upper circle of joy. Dante must have described just
such in some unpublished canto; and Milton has certainly some account of
them in "Paradise Lost." Frank thought them the loveliest things he ever
beheld, and would kiss them as religiously as ever ardent Catholic did
the Papal toe; and now!--Well, put them away. It doesn't do to examine
too closely the relics of departed joys. They have a sad, old-time,
faded, shrunken look. They belong to the past, when they had a reality
and meaning. Now they are strange and quaint, and the young folks laugh
at them. What do they know of the sweet faces, the warm hearts, the dear
eyes, that they have outlived, but of which they yet serve as tender
memorials? Put them away. Perhaps we have ourselves outlived the wild
emotions, the throbbing joys, the rosy dreams they served to cherish.
Perhaps they darken the gloom that has settled over the days since the
time when they had a part in the changing scene.--We are talking about
your wedding-shoes, among other things, Madam. Is it worth while to put
them back again?--Well, give them to