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LIFE IS SWEET. 
99 
LIFE IS SWEET. 
It was a summer’s morning. I was awakened 
by the rushing of a distant engine, bearing along 
a tide of men to their busy day in the great city. 
Cool sea breezes stole through the pine trees em¬ 
bowering my dwelling; the aromatic pines breathed 
out their ready music; the hummingbird was 
fluttering over the honeysuckle at my window ; 
the grass glittered with dewdrops. A maiden 
was coming from the dairy across the lawn, with 
a silver mug of new milk in her hand; by the 
other hand she led a child. The young woman 
was in the full beauty of ripened and perfect 
womanhood. Her step was elastic and vigorous ; 
moderate labor had developed without impairing 
her fine person. I thought. “ How sweet is life to 
this girl! ” as, respected and respecting, she sus¬ 
tains her place in domestic life, distilling her pure 
influences into the little creature she holds by the 
hand! And how sweet, then, was life to that 
child! Her little form was so erect and strong — 
so firmly knit to outward life — her step so free 
and joyous! — her fair, bright hair, so bright that 
it seemed as if a sunbeam came from it: it lay 
parted on that brow, where an infinite capacity 
had set its seal. And that spirited eye — so 
quickly perceiving — so eagerly exploring ! and 
those sweet red lips — love,'and laughter, and 
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