_Alma Villa, Sebastopol Road, Balham._
SIR,--There is an old saying with which we are all
acquainted, and which affirms that "there are as pretty kettles of
fish in the sea as ever came out of it." If you will permit me, I will
quote my own case.
At the age of seventy-two I married the man of my choice. We had
been married for seven days, when, alas! the truth forced itself
relentlessly upon me that my husband was suffering from depression
of spirits. His nature, which had always been a gay and joyous one,
became apathetic; he seemed indifferent to my society, and before many
weeks were over he bored himself to death.
I think before eighty is only April sort of sunshine, which only
brings flowers, &c., into bud; it is June, July, and October sunshine
that makes, or the want of it that mars, the harvest. There are many
of my own and the other sex still unmarried, pure, gentle, and loving
old women, who, I think, would gladly enter matrimony. Alas! Love is
laughed about and joked about, but the souls it has ruined are few.
Trusting you will find space for my poor scribble, I am, Sir,
Your obedient servant, HAPPY BROWN BESS.
_Earlswood, September 14, 1895._
[Space forbids further insertions of letters on this
subject.--ED.]
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