THE ACQUISITIVE ADEPT.
BY A BRIGHT GIRL OF SEVENTEEN.
Dear lady, this is not as I should like to promise. You have
suffered deeply. Here are dark caverns, crosses, confusion and
wavy, broken and crooked lines. No good luck to be foretold.
So it appears on the surface. You are overcast by sorrow and
losses, with death to many present hopes. As holding up the
cup, gravestones, tears--heart-tears--seems an ill-omened cup,
yet no one need to be discouraged.
I can now reveal to you, even in this conclusive reading, one
fair remaining sky-scene, with a little sun-burst, and a distant
square. Examine, also, below the tangled rubbish. See you the
head of the little anchor, like some friend in need. Trust still in
the good, and such will come to you.
Let no one say they are doomed. This lady is well along in
years, therefore, this one fair spot of sky-scene is large enough
to fill in the remaining periods with joy and hope. I am not
content to skim over the mere surface. Helpful revelations need
the deeper, mental searchlight.
By turning this cup from left to right, the symbols shadow forth
a peaceful old age, up near the sky-light and the evening star.
The dots, with little rings--some kindly aid until the close, with
loving, retrospective hope in the final All Good.
I feel your deep enthusiasms, my friend. God's blessings on
you, dear child. You thrill my soul with expectant gladness.
It proved that a benevolent Boston family opened their
hospitable doors to this lovely old lady amid her deepest
dilemmas. Also, a small inheritance came to this star-lit dome
of her declining life's protection.
A WOMAN'S WINNING CARD.
A woman's winning card is cheerfulness.
She may be capable of countless self-sacrifices, infinite
tenderness and endless resources of wisdom, but if she cloaks
these very excellent possessions under a garb of melancholy she
may almost as well not have them, so far as the ordinary world
is concerned.