face and imprisoned
in a little hard knob at the back.

When that hair wuz brown, and the mornin' sun wuz ketched in its
glistenin', wavin' tendrils, and the sunken cheeks wuz round and pink
as one of the cinnamon roses, and the faded ambrotype of the young
soldier in her red wooden chest upstairs wuz materialized in a
handsome young man, who walked with her under the old willows when the
slow-moving brook run swift with fancy's flight and her heart beat
happily, and life wuz new and radiant with love and joy----

Before the changes come that swept them apart and left only a hollow,
empty chamber in each heart, echoin' with footsteps that are walkin'
heavily fur apart.

Then, if I could write the full history of that life, its joys and its
sorrows, its aspirations, its baffled hopes, its compensations that
didn't compensate, the bareness of the life, the dagger-sharp trials
with what is called small things, the wild heart struggles veiled by
the New England coldness of expression, some as her sharp crags and
stuns are covered with the long reign of ice and snow. The heartsick
loneliness of oncongenial surroundin's, the gradual fading away of
hope and fears into the dead monotonous calm of hopelessness and
despair.

There is a tragedy ready for the pen that would stand out as much more
striking and sharp-edged as the stun on a ontravelled highway is
rougher than one worn down to smoothness by the feet of the multitude,
a tragedy that would move the world could I tell it as it really is.

But good land! What a hand to eppisode I be when I git to goin'. I
must stop this very minute, or I'll have the tragedy Alfred Tennyson
speaks on "Dyin' a Listener," on my hands.

Unter der Linden is as beautiful and imposing an avenue as I see on my
tower, with tall, handsome houses risin' up on each side on't. And
there are beautiful parks and pleasure ground and places of recreation
of all kinds.

The Academy of Music is famous for its fine concerts, the city seems
the very home of melody, and beautiful statutes are seen on every
side. The equestrian statute of Frederic the Great is a grand one, and
Josiah got all rousted up lookin' at it, and talked considerable to me
about what a imposin' figger he himself would make if he could be
sculped settin' on the mair. He said it would be a lovely sight a
loomin' up in front of the M. E. meetin'-house in Jonesville. But I
got his mind off from it quick as I could.

One day when w