120 IN A WINTER CITY.
fragrant rose-leaves of an imperishable Past, and
the shining sands of a sweet unspent Time.
She made a poor sculptor happy for a year ; she
freed a young and promising painter from a hea\'y
debt; she was often impatient with thefr produc¬
tions, but she was most patient with thefr
She was only a woman of the world, touched
for a day into warmer sympathies, but the bless¬
ings she drew down on her sank somehow into
her heart, and made her half ashamed, half glad.
What was the use of writing fine contemptuous
things of society uiUess one tried to drop oneself
some Uttle holy reUc into the golden Ostensoir ?
She went home contented, and was so gentle with
her maids that they thought she must be going
to be unweU.
Her friend the Princess Olga came to chat
with her, and they had thefr tea cosUy in her
dressing-room ; and at eight o'clock she went to
dine with Mrs. WashUigton, an American Paris
ienne or Parisian American, known wherevei
the world of fashion extended, and was taken intfi
dinner by the Duca deUa Eocca.