"'Whence do w^e come, or whither do we go? No one can answer satisfactorily. It is an unsolv- able riddle. All guesswork, speculation. Joy and happiness are mere illusions — the flickering sunshine of a moment. Pain is a reality. The only tangible thing in life is suflering, sorrow.' "'Since Helen died, all things seem changed. When she was alive I looked eagerly forward. The future seemed bright and beckoning. So full of great hopes, of grand possibilities. My hours were crowded with work. The days were too short to satisfy me, I had so much to do. Now I dare not look backward, I care not to look for- ward. To do either seems like .peering into the gloom of a winter's night. The present is full of heaviness. I cannot set myself to any task, and thus escape from my great grief, for nothing now seems worth the doing.' " ' Will the days ever come when I can realize — " 'Tis better to bare loved and lost, Thau never to liave loved at all " ? Life is poor and barren without love ; but how painfully desolate it becomes after the loss of the IN THE ORCHARD. 161 one loved better than fill else on earth ! I was the victim of unrest before love entered, and took possession of my heart ; nevertheless, I was nega- tively happy. Now, my days and nights are filled to overflowing with sorrow. A weary life is mine to bear.' "'Now that Helen has been torn from me, after so short a season of unalloyed happiness, I tremble at the thought of annihilation, and refuse to be- lieve the gloomy doctrine. Yet, I can find no satisfying evidence of the solil's immortality, — nothing to convince my mind, beyond a doubt, that there is a world and a life beyond the tomb. Love, however, uproots disbelief. Selfishness is more satisfying than reason. The yearning to be again with Helen dispels doubt, and overturns argument. We must, we will, meet again. But is this life to be projected into the next, with all its hates, as well as all its loves ? If with the one, why not with the other? And why should a con- tinuation of such a mutual love as ours be vouch- safed to us, if thousands are doomed to go wailing through eternity, sorrowing for an unrequited or a hopelessly lost afiection? Oh, Helen, Helen, why did we ever love ? ' "'The death of Helen was so sudden, so unex- pected, that I was nearly bereft of reason by the 162 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. terrible blow. I was sometimes saddened by the thought of dying and leaving her alone in the ■world ; but I had never thought of death in con- nection with Helen. It is ever thus in life. The evils we apprehend, and most dread, are seldom the ones that befall us. Fate seems to delight in taking us by surprise, — in tripping us suddenly into an unseen abyss.'

AI-modernized reading of the original text

"'Whence do we come, or whither do we go? No one can answer satisfactorily. It is an unsolvable riddle. All guesswork, speculation. Joy and happiness are mere illusions — the flickering sunshine of a moment. Pain is a reality. The only tangible thing in life is suffering, sorrow.' "'Since Helen died, all things seem changed. When she was alive I looked eagerly forward. The future seemed bright and beckoning. So full of great hopes, of grand possibilities. My hours were crowded with work. The days were too short to satisfy me, I had so much to do. Now I dare not look backward, I care not to look forward. To do either seems like peering into the gloom of a winter's night. The present is full of heaviness. I cannot set myself to any task, and thus escape from my great grief, for nothing now seems worth the doing.' " ' Will the days ever come when I can realize — " 'Tis better to bare loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all " ? Life is poor and barren without love ; but how painfully desolate it becomes after the loss of the one loved better than all else on earth ! I was the victim of unrest before love entered, and took possession of my heart ; nevertheless, I was negatively happy. Now, my days and nights are filled to overflowing with sorrow. A weary life is mine to bear.' "'Now that Helen has been torn from me, after so short a season of unalloyed happiness, I tremble at the thought of annihilation, and refuse to believe the gloomy doctrine. Yet, I can find no satisfying evidence of the soul's immortality, — nothing to convince my mind, beyond a doubt, that there is a world and a life beyond the tomb. Love, however, uproots disbelief. Selfishness is more satisfying than reason. The yearning to be again with Helen dispels doubt, and overturns argument. We must, we will, meet again. But is this life to be projected into the next, with all its hates, as well as all its loves ? If with the one, why not with the other? And why should a continuation of such a mutual love as ours be vouchsafed to us, if thousands are doomed to go wailing through eternity, sorrowing for an unrequited or a hopelessly lost affection? Oh, Helen, Helen, why did we ever love ? ' "'The death of Helen was so sudden, so unexpected, that I was nearly bereft of reason by the terrible blow. I was sometimes saddened by the thought of dying and leaving her alone in the ■world ; but I had never thought of death in connection with Helen. It is ever thus in life. The evils we apprehend, and most dread, are seldom the ones that befall us. Fate seems to delight in taking us by surprise, — in tripping us suddenly into an unseen abyss.'

Cooking and castle-building