“Dear old Hector, that first kiss of yours opened the door to a brand new world for me. God, but I must have been sick and lonely on that morning I sat resting on the porch, and you and Adaline found me and took me into your affections. Your kisses are still warm and affectionate, old doggie, but I felt a warmer one last night on my lips. Do you know that your little mistress has promised to be my wife? She says she was drawn toward me when she saw me hugging her dog. It was your loving kiss, old Hector, that has brought all this new love and hope and sunlight into my life. She would never have caught me hugging you, were it not for your friendly kiss.” LOVE LETTERS Through an almost fatal accident, an old lady of seventy-five years lay at death’s door for many long weeks. She had not been as prosperous during the last twenty-five years of her life as she had been in her early married life, and many of her old time friends had drifted out of her life, and she drifted out of theirs. She thought of all this as she lay on her bed of affliction, too weak to move more than one arm. It was sad to think of the old friends who had forgotten her so completely. They must all know of her illness, for her daughter Mary had read several notices to her from the local papers concerning her serious accident, and more serious condition since the accident occurred. Somehow she felt so lonely and isolated and neglected. Better die and be out of this painful existence than to lie sick in bed for weeks and weeks and be absolutely forgotten by the old-time friends, whose society she once enjoyed so delightfully. When her daughter came in she had hard work to turn her feeble head to the wall, so the tears on her lashes could not be seen. She even felt one on her thin cheek, but had not the physical power to wipe it away. As the daughter went about the room, tidying things up, and dusting off the stand on which the medicine bottles stood, she listened carefully to see if her mother was sleeping. A slight cough from the bed convinced her that the invalid was awake, and she broke the silence by saying: “I hope the mail today will bring a letter from brother John. He knows of your accident, and I feel sure he will reach us today with his answer.” The finger on the bed moved slightly and a weak voice answered; “I hope so, Mary. It’s nice to receive a letter from our absent ones, at such times like this.” Mary knew how it exhausted her mother to talk, so she said no more, but pulled down the blind to shut out the light, and left the sick room with a pain at her heart. Her keen eye had seen the tears on her mother’s eye lashes, and she felt certain that the poor invalid had been weeping over confinement and isolation from society and her friends.