Page 84 - Fairbrass

eye were the faults that exist in almost every
printed page and certainly in every man’s

daily life. It was his business to point out
those faults to the public. Now, listen to

this. While this half heart-broken young
poet stood gazing at me, there was by his
side a young- and pretty woman dressed in

deep mourning. Poor thing- ! She was

not a critic, but a sorrowing widow within
a few weeks after she had become a happy
and hopeful wife. Now, it so happened

that a friend had given her the little book of

poems, and some of the verses had touched
and consoled her in a manner beyond
description, and so it came about that while

the poet's eyes welled over with mortification,
hers swam with gratitude to the unknown

writer who had so helped her* “ If I could
only know and talk to him ! " she was

saying to herself, while he was murmuring,
“ I have mistaken my vocation; I am a vain

fool ; I have fruitlessly squandered my
time,” Yes, Fairbrass; there they were,

side by side, almost touching each other.