eel great contempt for my own efforts at picture-making. A traveling artist stopped in Wi

than a star; but when I saw a portrait on the easel, a palette of paints and some brushes, I was at home in a new

s, and concluded I wanted brown. Years before, I heard of brown umber, so I got umber and some brushes and begun my husband's portrait. I hid it when he was there or I heard any one coming, and once blistered it badly trying to dry it before t

with every line and varying expression, and in each I seemed to read the inner life in the outer form. Oh, how they plead with me! What graceful lines and gorgeous colors floated around me! I forgot God, and did not know it; forgot philosophy, and did not care to remember it; but alas! I forgot to get Bard's

new my place, and scorned to leave it. I tried to think I could paint without neglect of duty. It did not occur to me that painting was a duty for a married woman! Had the pas

blivious of all other things. In my doubt, I met one of those newspaper paragraphs with which men are wont to pelt wo

writhing on the cross, spent my best years and powers cooking cabbage. "A se

d for literary fame; have avoided, rather than sought it; have enjoyed the abuse of the press more than its praise; have held my pen with a feeling of contempt for its feebleness,

and triumphs, that should have been written amid autumn and sunset glories in the eloquent faces and speaking forms which have everywhere presented

t not use any gift of the Creator, if it be not approved by thy brother; and un

ited, but thought the defect would be easily remedied as he had good abilities, but I discovered he had no love for books. His spiritual guides derided human learning and depended on inspiration. My knowledge stood in the way of my salvation, and I must be that odious thing-a superior wife-or stop my progress,

nd anniversary of our marriage. He lies buried in the ground he donated as "God's acre," with only this inscription at his head: "John Swisshelm, aged 86." No sign that he was one of the world's heroes-yet, when our revolution broke out, his parents had but two children. The oldest enlisted and was killed, when John caught up his rifle, took his place, and kept it until the close of the war. He sp