er than before. May I not, in my turn, ask if your
feelings are quite Christian? Are you not afraid you entertain a species
of repulsion toward your fellow men?'

'Aunt Sarah, I nearly always feel more for them than they for me.
Perhaps they hurt my vanity by overwhelming me with the sense of my own
insignificance. Be that as it may, their everlasting wrangling among
themselves is more than I can endure. When people begin to quarrel, even
to disagree warmly, the blood rushes to my brain, and I long for a cool
breeze from some piny height, a mossy seat by some calm lake, that
mirrors only the blue of heaven, the measured flow of falling waters,
the rustle of leaves, the hum of bees, or the song of birds.'

'You are not strong, and have grown nervous, I fear,' said Aunt Sarah.
'I can remember when you greatly enjoyed a good discussion, and never
shrank from an encounter of opinions.'

'I was young then,' replied Lucy; 'I am older now, and have less
confidence in my argumentative powers. I love truth as well, but doubt
my capacity to lift her veil, the willingness of mortals to seek her
humbly, or the certainty of their yielding to conviction, even were she
bodily, in unclouded radiance, to stand before them. I hope I may always
have courage sufficient to support my honest convictions, but I must
confess the effort has become a painful one, and I instinctively fly all
wrangling as I would the plague.'

'Do you then desire to lead an isolated life?' asked Mrs. Grundy.

'By no means,' replied Lucy. 'Duty and affection both bind me to active
service in the ranks of the world, and, to return to the subject of a
retired country sojourn, the freedom from _gene_, the absence of hurry,
the _confidentiality_ of nature, lead us in a week to a better
comprehension and appreciation of the few persons surrounding us than
could be obtained in years of ordinary city acquaintance. Bricks and
mortar and cut stones tend to the revelation of but few secrets, but the
evening twilight, the crescent moon, the morning dawn, the forest shade,
and the noonday repose are persuasive openers of hearts and weavers of
sympathy. A walk with Elsie is far more to me than a solitary ramble.
Then, too, the country population frequently exhibit an originality and
individuality of development more often missed than found in the
assimilating atmosphere of cities.'

'I should weary in a week of such a dull, sentimentalizing mode of
existence,' said Aunt S