REALITIES,
To live the eager life of men,
To burn with deathless courage when,
Full of a noble faith, they praise
The glory of our later days
Or when, with prophet-sight, they try
To pierce the wonder of the sky.
To watch the consecrated face
Of nature, till each simple grace,
Each winter glow or tropic bloom,
Each shadow, hinting of the gloom,
Translates its meaning into words
Like sound into the song of birds,
These are realities, whereof
I speak as one may speak of love;
And these, like precious things, are wrought
Into the masic of my thought,
Which may be wild and sad, or fill
The measure of a whippoorwill.
TSE ER.
A NARROW ESCAFPE.
Colonel Augustus Chopleigh, late of
Her Majesty’s Indian Army, lived In
stately retirement upon his snug little
estate in one of the pleasantest of the
home counties, From an outsider’s
point of view, the Colonel seemed to
possess most things which are generally
considered to constitute mundane hap-
piness. His liver had survived pawnees,
curries, and a tropical sun intact; his
income was ample; he belonged to two
er three good London clubs; he had an
excellent cellar of wine; he was a J. P.,
respected by his neighbors and wor-
shipped by his tenants; and he rode to
cover on the best of cattle. Yet with
all this, the Colonel had two eternally
grinning skeletons in his cupboard.
The first was the possession of a ne’er-
do-weel son, and the second was the
non-possession of a wife.
Augustus Chopleigh junior, although
a ne’er-do-weel in the eyes of a parent
who was more rigid and precise than
are most gentlemen who have breathed
the atmosphere of barracks and canton-
ments during the best parts of their
lives, was, after all, but an ordinary,
“every-day young man.” Ie betted a
little, it is true; he belonged to a club
where play was sometimes high of an
evening; he could drink his claret like
a man; he was a connoisseur in cigars;
he possessed two or three long
bills; and he was given to staying in
town sometimes for a week at a time.
Still, after ail, what could be expected
i
tailor
had received a first-rate education.
was therefore unfitted for any serious
walk in life; who was good-looking,
who dressed well, who found life at
stately Dum Dum Hall a little monot-
onous at times, and who had a hand-
some annual allowance?
But in the eyes of the Colonel
these little peculiarities were heinous
crimes, and the poor old gentleman, as
he pondered in the solitude of what he
called his “study,” saw very clearly
that unless the young man was settled
in life with a well-bred, well-connected
girl, he would infallibly follow, at head-
long pace, that broad road which leads
to destruction.
Often alone at Dum Dum Hall,
prived of the society of his son, and
not caring very specially for that soci-
ety when offered, it was hardly to be
wondered at that the Colonel yearned
for a suatable partner in his exile,
The memory of the departed Mrs,
Chopleigh could hardly be said to be
yet green, for she had succumbed to an
aggravated attack of jungle fever some
twenty years before, when Augustus,
junior, was but a stripling mm plaid
dresses and bare legs. It might be said
that the remedy was easy. Why didn’t
the Colonel take unto himself a second
Mrs, Chopleigh? There were plenty of
eligible spinsters who would have
jumped at an offer from such a fresh.
faced, active, wealthy gentleman, who
was but little beyond the prime of life,
There was, however, an almost invine-
ible obstacle. Unlike most military
men, Colonel Chepleigh was painfully
shy; perhaps remembrances of the de-
parted Mrs. Chopleigh, who was known
as the Dum Dum Tartar, had driven
out the youthful assurance which had
won her; at any rate, the flutter of a
petticoat awakened feelings within
the gallant Colozel’s breast which were
not to be stirred by a horde of yelling,
mutinous Sepoys, or by the stiffest bull-
finch in the county, He had loved at
a distance a score of times, but had
never placed himself within speaking
reach of the various objects of his affec-
tion.
Suddenly matters took a different
turn.
A young lady of ctrikingly preposs-
essing appearance—Millicent Vanjohn,
only daughter of the Rev. Aloysius
Vanjohn, the only vicar—had been es-
pied by the Colonel proceeding up the
lane which ran tarallel with his grounds,
as he paced along his favorite shrubbery
walk. Being on his own property had
inspired him with courage; he had gazed
at her, and she had blushed and looked
down. He hurried into the house, and
shut himself up in his study,
“1 am fifty-five,” he said to hunself,
“I am—well, I am well-looking; my
walist-coat is of decent girth; I have a
good complexion; and a man is only as
old as he feels, Why shouldn't 1? I
may be called an old fool. Well, there
are plenty of older fools in the world, I
—yes--1 willl"
Miss Vanjohn was walking at the
identical spot at the identical hour the
next dav after that, and so on for more
than a week, and each day the same
all
de-
little dumb comedy was played-—sheep’s-
eyes on the part of the Colonel, blushes
and lookings-down on the part of Miss
Mellicent Vanjohn.
Did Miss Vanjohn walk up that lane
so regularly with a fixed purpose? Of
course she did,
Punctually at 4 o'clock every after-
noon, Mr. Augustus Chopleigh Jr,
met her at the top of it, It was rather
an odd thing to do—the daughter of a
well-known parson meeting sub rosa
the son of an equally well-known colo-
nel. The following conversation ex-
plains it:
“On, Gus! Y begin to feel so awfully
guilty, meeting you like this] Why
can't we love each other openly?
There's nothing to be ashamed of in it.”
“Fer more than one reason, ny dar-
ling. I've a bad reputation down here;
all fellows have in country places who
go up to town, belong to a club, drive
down to Ascot, take medicinal B-and-
S.’s, and so on. If the old man were
to know that I was spooning you, he'd
rush off to your father and warn him,
If your father were to know, he'd rush
off to mine and tell him that I wasn’t
a fit aspirant for the hand of his daugh-
ter.”
“But is your father such a terrible
old gentleman, then? What is he like?
I've never seen him.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have, He
fights shy of anything with a petticoat
on it like the plague. I've known him
cut a good run short because there were
ladies alone with him in the same
field, and he was afraid in case of an
accident he'd have to assist them, He's
a tall old fellow, with a fresh complex-
ion and a gray moustache, and always
wears shepherd’s plaid trousers, Sum-
mer and Winter, Why, what's the
matter?”
“0 dear! O dear!
please
ing!”
“hy, what ist t
there to laugh at in
it, Millie?
a temper you womldn
don’t
die of laugh-
(us, £0 on,
don't, or I shall
By Jove, if you saw h
3 vty
t MAUL
i in
“Why, my dearest Gusl-—he'
y i 143 fer
in love with me!
“The old boy—my fa
with N onse
sense, |» Why, he’s more afral
ran
WOve
ther—in
you? nse. my dear—non-
i of
earthquake, or a
What on
x $3 3 ’ % $ : $ % “h
1akes you think he’s in love with
of agi nof an
boa-constrictor, or anything.
earth n
your"
“Why,
along here |
Gus, every day
I've always tal
or
the steward,
some one, and he makes sucl
at me, Oh, you'd laugh if
see him. I try not to, but
blush and look awfully silly.”
“By Jove, Millie,
matter—that it isn’t,
his rival in lovel”
That evening Mr, Gus appeared at
home at an unusually early hour,
© yes
you could
I know I
it’s no laughing
A man’s father
“Well!” was the greeting of his par.
“You're 1
with that goody-goody
nothing, I'm sure,
When you turn u
ner I know you want something out of
me. But mind, not another halfpenny
do you get. I've already advanced
your quarter's allowance, and if you've
been squandering it on actresses and
race-meetings, and unlimited loo, and
dinners at the Bristol, I don’t help
you, And not only that, sir, but I'm
going to put a stop to it. Once for all
—and Augustus Chopleigh’s a man of
his word—I don’t care if Stuity, or
Golding, or Moses, or any of them
come down and dun you at this very
door, nota rupee do you get out of me,’
*“What a deuce of a hurry you're in,
father!” said the young man. “Idon’t
want any money.”
"Well, what the dickens Is it then?”
said the old gentleman, seeing that his
son looked confused.
“Why-—well, I'm in love, that’s all,”
replied Gus; and I'm going to be mar-
ried to the best girl in England—a per-
fect lady, well bred, well connected,
and"
The effect of this speech upon the
old Colonel was electrical. He jumped
up from his end of the table, almost up-
set Parker, who was handing him the
chilies, rushed towards his son and shook
his hand heartily, his face beaming with
excitement ard pleasure, as he exclaim-
ed, “You're sure of what you say? It
isn’t Fifine of the Jolity, hey? A lady,
well bred, well connected —?
“I've been a bit of a scamp, perhaps,
father,” said the young man; “but I've
never gone in for low ferm, so, when I
tell you she’sall that could be wished for
you must believe me,”
“Of course 1 will; of course I dol”
roared the Colonel, *“*Who is she?”
“Well, I don’t want to give you her
name just now, for many reasons, but
you may take my word for it that she's
nobody to be ashamed of,” said Gus,
“*All right, all right; I won't ask any
more questions. So long as you are go-
ing to steady down with a good, lady-
like wife, I don’t care,’ said his father.
“By ga, Gus, I thought you were go-
ing to be a millstone round my neck
for the remainder of my life. And
now, my boy, you've astonished me,
I'm going to astonish you. What do
you think 1s about the most unlikely
thing I should do?”
“Give up hunting?’ replied Gus, “‘or
sell your orchids? or put up for the
county? or--"
“No, no; nothing of that kind.” said
ent. ot bere 80 precious ear-
for
Yi 3 1 11 ¢ - t
you young amp.
Te
iy, face,
p punctualiy to din-
the Golonel, chuckling, “I'm-I1'm
going to be married too,”
The son affected the greatest aston-
ishment., The Colonel continued:
“But look here, my boy, it won't in-
terfere with your prospects, and—and
when I say I'm going to be mar-
ried, I mean that I have my eye on
some one, and I rather think, ahem!
that some one has a reciprocal eye on
me, I'm not such an old bird, eh?”
“*Not a bit of it,” replied Gus; “and
may I ask who the fortunate object of
your attentions is?”’
“Well,” answered the Colonel, laugh-
ing, “I've a good mind not to tell you,
you dog, as you keep me in the dark
about your innamorata. But I will,
Do you know Miss Vanjohn?”’
“Tall girl, brown hair, brown eyes?’
asked Gus, innocently.
“Yes, yes—that’s the one! 8he’sgo-
ing to be Mrs, Chopleigh the second,”
said the Colonel, rubbing his hands
gleefully, I think—abem! that if I
can screw up my pluck, I shall speak to
her to-morrow.”
That evening the Reverend Aloysius
Vanjohn received an unexpected visitor
in the shape of Mr, Augustus Chopleigh.
Urged by the desperate aspect of mat-
ters, the young man had resolved to
face the terrible parson, as he believed
him to be, and to lay the state
of affairs before him. To his glad sur-
prise, the reverend gentleman, who was
really a good fellow, and thought very
well of Gus, laughed heartily at the no-
tion of the Colonel's suit, and promised
Gus that Millicent should marry him
when and where he pleased,
“1 say, Gus,” roared the Colonel, as
they were leaving the
for bed; “promise me you'll bring Mrs.
C hopleigh here directly after you're
married,”
A few day after, Millicent Vanjohn
was quietly and unostentationsly made
Agus tus Chopleigh in L
his word the
his fa
ig him
in down on the foll
ce his bride tb
whole
smoking- room
mdon.
young man
wither of his mar-
that he should
wine daw
OWiLg aay u
in fortul ng
riage, and tellin
ber ney
say,
what with hi
and the eage
he awaited
$i t $
daught
er-inlaw,
una ited every dish
nswer
d movement,
'' he said;
surprise to the last.”
Crus entered.
“Here I am {athe
“Yes, but
the Colonel impatiently,
Gus went out,
Millicent.
The Colonel
ri’ he said.
yes; where's said
and reappeared with
staggered at
something like a frown gathered on his
But he himself, and
‘ith a smile that illu his whole
cent:
first, and
brow, recoversd
minated |
ald, addressing Mill
de lig! Lited 0
as a-—daug
118 Bon he
ily
welcome
hte I.
added,
you've
monly narrow escape!”
had an uncom-
III RST
A Woman Gambier,
“What man has done man may do,"
has long been a favorite maxim of the
moralists and the copy-books, but it is
reserved for the philosophy of the min-
ing camp to demonsirate that “what
man has woman may do also."
Amid the general din of the saloon,
and rising above the general confusion,
the clink of glasses against bottles, and
the tinkling sound of ivory chips may
be heard the words, “queen high.»
“pair kings.” “bet two beans,” and
the like, uttered in a soft but penetrat-
ing volce which attracts one on enter-
ing the door. Making my way to ;
corner of the room, and elbowing a
path cautiously through a pack of men,
I saw a remarkable sight, Before one
of the ordinary poker tables sat a wo-
man of ordinary beauty. The
traces of refinement had not yet been
obliterated by coarse associations and
reckless dissipation. She was dressed
in a tight-fitting gown, fitting about
the bust like the waist of a riding-
habit, and adorned with a double row
of startling gilt buttons, On her head
was a jaunty jockey cap of blue, but
its little visor shading a face whose
delicate lines and marked individuality
would in any other place have secured
for its possessor immediate notice as a
cultivated, intellectual power, Yet
there she sat, dealing the cards with a
graceful ease born evidently of a long
practice in similar scenes, Careless of
the rough talk and ribald jokes of the
men, the female gambler dealt the
cards, raked in the chips, paid losses,
replied to the sallies of the men and
attended to business with a devilish
insouciance and calmness that was
simply horrible, A more painful sight
I never saw, for there was a refinement
of wickedness about the scene which
robbed it of the vileness of the slums
and invested that woman in the corner
of & mining-camp gambling house
with a horror that #as siraply satani-
cal,
done
no
API
A good amile is the sunshine of wis.
dom.
Conscience is man’s most faithful
riend.
Art of Grafting,
Every farmer’s boy should learn to
graft. Few occupations wive more
pleasure or a greater reward. To con-
vert a wild and thorny tree into one
bearing large and delicious fruit is a
wonderful and fascinating process.
Grafting need not be confined to fruit
trees, Ornamental trees and shrubs
which are nearly related to each other
may be grafted, Several kinds of roses
may be grown on the same bush, and
differently colored lilacs may be mixed
on the same stock. Grafting 1s an easy
art to acquire. Simply making the
scions live is but a part of the operation
on fruit trees, however. One must
plan for the future top of the trees.
He must graft such limbs as should
make permanent factors in the top he is
building, and while he should avoid
grafting too many limbs, he should
likewise avoid grafting too few. In
either extreme too much cutting for the
good of the tree will have to be done,
If too few limbs are grafted, it will be
necessary to cut too many branches off
entirely during the process of grafting.
If too many limbs are grafted, it
be necessary to cut many of them out
in a few years to prevent crowding. It
must be remembered that a grafted
branch will occupy more room than a
natural branch, for the secions branch
and bush out from the point of their
insertion. How many limbs, and which
oues, to graft
will
must be
perience and judgment
The kind of
learned by ex-
grafting most
be practiced on the farm is that
as cleft grafting. The
simple one. off
grafted where it isan inch or less in
diameter; trim the edges of the ‘stub’
likely to
known
process is a
limb to be
SAW the
smooth, and split it with a large knife,
or a cleaver made for the purpose, The
cleft should not be more than four inche
is sel into
care that
The scion
ising great
of the bark in the
n exactly matches the inner surface
of the bark stub, A line
tween the bark and the wood may be
This line on Wn, in
other words, should mateh this line on
Wax the whole care-
and thorot eave
crack which is
pretty hard, and whic! worked
and applied with the hands is commonly
best We several good
recipes for grafting wax. We would
recommend that grafting be not con-
fined to the orchard. Experiment,
Try pears and apples on wild crabs and
thorns, One must not look for success
on trees much different from the scions,
but there Is room for experimenting,
and more light is needed.
axerc
inner surface
thin
On Gu
Doe
olserved. the sc
the stub, over
Do not
Wax
1 must be
fi aghly.
exposed,
sly
any
have given
ai——
Fiagetiation Sul] Practiced.
The church of the Penitentes, in
Santo Dominge, Mexico is 250 years
old, and in it flagellation is still practic-
ed by the remnant of the Aztecs that
worship there. The day of flagellation
is Good Friday. Although the peni-
tentes are all Catholics, all the Catho-
lics are by no means penitentes. In-
deed, it is said they are discouraged by
the priesthood, They strip their bodies
to the waist, and having provided
themselves with scourges, they beat
themselves and each other over the
shoulders and back with them until
the flesh is terribly lacerated. This is
done walking in procession, one of
their number voluntarily leading us
bearing a heavy wooden cross bound 10
his neck, under which he staggers
nearly bent double, his flesh lacerated
by the scourges of his followers, Many
have died of exhaustion under this
penance, If the victim lives to reach
the church, the cross is suspended
therein, with the bleeding sufferer still
bound to it, where he remans until he
faints under loss of blood. The peni.
tente often pays the penalty of his life
in this vicarious atonement for his
sins,
Every farmer in reading a paper will
often see something in it which it
would be of service to him to remem-
ber. He will perhaps see suggestions
the value of which he would like to
test or hints by which he would like to
be governed in his future operation,
but after reading it the paper is thrown
down, probably never to be seen again,
To avoid this he should clip from the
paper the article he wishes to preserve
and remember, and paste it in a scrap
kept for the purpose, Such a
book at the end of a few vears would
be both interesting and valuable.
Ex-Oueen Isabella.
Says a popular lady writer: 1 do not
think that Queen Isabella at any period
of her life could have been considered
handsome, Bhe in no wise resembled
the dark-eyed, imperious beauty, her
mother, But in her young days youth
and freshness, joined by that divinity
that doth hedge a sovereign, undoubted-
ly caused her to be credited with a cer-
tain degree of personal attractions. Up
to the present season the Queen has
resided in France ever since her de-
thronement. It was in Paris she signed
the act of abdication in favor of her
son, now King of Spain. Her ponder-
ous figure and good-natured face are as
well known at the opera or in the Bois
de Boulogne as were those of the Em-
press Eugenie in bygone days,
Her embonpoint is really extraors
dinary, and she increases her apparent
size by always dressing in pale, delicate
tints, pear] gray in the daytime
white at night being her favorite colors,
Her features are large, her eyes blue,
and her complexion florid At times
her skin bears the marks of the heredi-
tary Bourbon malady, serofula, frem
which the entire royal family of Spain
are great sufferers, Her
charming, No Princess in Europe re-
ation with a more admir-
able blending of courtesy and dignity
or receives a visitor with more royal
grace,
During her
Queen Isabell
mented with
and
manners are
turns a salut
France
much
ial difficulties,
is as extravagant in her charities as in
her personal expenditure, used
when she first came to Paris to bestow
+2) on every beggar that
of her. When remonstrated with
BUSWEr Was: ould a
residence in
a has tor-
Rhea
] been
ii
i
inanc
She
MW 3 8
$20 asked alms
her
Queen give
fond
Gaal ght i
ordered
part o Lroussean
wned king
ving all her
Madrid.
Snnssba
panish
years was a reigning
wg favo
Madrid
ing-room and ante cl
ally with a
costly plants by order of t
, Bees her draw
vs } 11 . §
amber filled annu-
¥
H
collection of choice and
he Royal lady,
who was once
of ber hearers,
allention
i
§
i
among the most assid
And this graceful and
Wak
uous
kindly maintained all
thro ug rh
niary d ities, These, }
as Alfonso XI1L
ascended the throne of Spain.
The
with her nd
he period of Queen Isabella's
pecu IOWever,
came to an end so soon
Queen does not get al
w daughter-in-]
ans wiki TY Haga
thorou gh Austrian in
She detests the nationa
Bei
suntrywomen
she made
many respects,
pastime of the bull-fight.
once by one of her own ©
how she could endure it,
SWer:
“You know 1 am terribly near-sight-
Well, somehow I always forget to
take my eyeglass with me.”
On the other hand. Queen Isabella
is a most ardent patroness of the sports
of the Spanish arena. This point of
difference, united to a multitude of
others, has hindered the two royal
ladies from becoming fast friends,
They keep out of each other's way—
that is all,
ng asked
ati-
ed,
p— UA
i ndeatston.
Of the many causes ‘which hinder
men from attaining success, indecision
is undoubtedly one of the most potent,
Without any determined course marked
out for themselves, youth launched out
inte the great ocean of life, depending
more upon chance than any fixed laws
whereby a definite result might be ob-
tained, Thinking to<lay, perchance,
to amass a fortune through some par-
ticular channel, they to-morrow diverge
from it for some other. So they pass
their lives continually varying, always
discontented with the present, and
never looking to the future for brighter
days which their indecision does not
warrant them to expect.
stl
An Imtaresting Ineident.
Middle-aged “people will recollect a
pretty incident of Queen Victoria’s
coropation. When the great nobles of
the realm came ju turn to swear allegi-
ance to the fair young girl, her gray-
haired uncle stepped forward to kneel
with the others, But she hastily des.
cended the steps of the throne, raised
him, and reverently bent her head for
his blessing.
—————
tli pm
Civility.
Once a great merchant of Liverpool
was asked how he had contrived to
buikl up the large fortune he possessed;
and he replied, with perfect sincerity:
“Friend, by one article alone, in which
thou mayest deal, too, if thou pleasest
~-Civility!"
The worst men otten give the best
advice,
Where boasting ends, there dignity
begins,
¥oOobD POR THOU FMGHT.
Let not the sun go ds
wrath,
To be proud of learning is the
est ignorance,
Happiness consists inthe c
of the habits,
Good, the more communicated,
abundant grows,
It is a good rule to be deaf when a
slanderer begins to talk,
He that does you a very ill turn will
never forgive you,
He’s my triend that spe
me behind my back,
The way to forget our mi
remember our mercies,
Your present want will
prosperity all the sweeter,
A woman who wants a
heart wants a pure m.nd,
He who walls to do a great deal at
once will never do anything.
Good will, like a good
by many actions, and lo
Pride is the
one is, without contempt
win upon your
great~
onstitution
more
sakes well of
series is to
make future
charitable
name, 18 got
by one,
consciousness of what
for others,
Learn as if you were to live
live as if you were to die to-morrow.
Unless you wish to reap the
kind of a harvest, do not sow wild
The common adage that
dangerous acts as spurs ug
iution.
Men often jud
the }
forever;
delays are
ge Lh
cause, which Is
malice,
To dread no eye
tongue is the great
nocence,
The gifts of
are not compared {o
i
Com
ove,
A woman may get
the best fire does not |
est.
in the world
in their «
y one,
aaracler
cumslances are
+1 wv »
WEY ale ©
As charity covers i
ore God.
or, the
swings easily
The Bible
hands of hi
from skepties,
Habit Wi
of it each day, and it beco
we cannot break it,
What
Those in
we}
Wii0
nas
4
Mess
2h A thro
it is a cable, weave a thread
v
+
Tong
Ges 80 8
are
\
ALOVEe IL5
s the a
every arrow
#§ rant in f 2s
WalCiidon OF
18441
Piva
# .
i081
A man must be exc eSsive iy
well as uncharitable, who bel
is no virtue but on his ¢ Owl
Nothing is great but
de wealth of Nature,
but she
bid
charity, must
4 #4.
From this
extend in
Topy, LiKe
centre
an
at home,
sympathies may
extending circle.
Our
ever-
sinh
Consideration is the small coin of
kindness and affability, it 18 current
everywhere, with all, and always brings
back a little friendship.
A loving act does more good than a
fiery exhortation. What mankind
needs is not more good talkers, but
more good Samaritans,
There collection of a deep and true
affection is rather a divine nourishment
for a soul to grow strong upon than a
poison to destroy it.
The man whose soul is in his work
finds his best reward in the work itseif,
The joy of achievement 1s vastly be-
yond joy of reward.
He that does not know those things
which are of use and necessity for him
to know, is but an ignorant man, what-
ever he may know besides.
The man or woman whose part is
taken, and who does not wait for
society in anything, has a power which
society cannot choose but feel.
How abundant are the men and wo-
men who crave martyrdom in leader-
ship! How few are willing to honor
themselves in the loyalty of service!
He who is conscious of his ignorance,
viewing it in the light of misfortune,
is more wise than one who mistakes
superficial polish for real knowledge,
The misfortunes that we meet with
are not God gomg away from us, but
our dearest Father in Heaven stooping
down to kiss us—God’s shadow falling
on us,
Conscience is a great ledger book in
which all our offenses are written and
registered, and which time reveals to
the sense and feeling of the offender.
To be happy, the passions must be
cheerful and gay, not gloomy and
melancholy, A propensity to hope and
joy is real riches; one to fear and sor-
row, real poverty.
Resolve not to be poor. Whatever
you have, spend less, Poverty 1s a
great enemy to human happiness, It
certainly destroys liberty, and it makes
some virtues im cable and others
extremely difficult,
As the sun does not wait for prayers
and incantations before he rises, but
tway shines forth god is hailed
of all, so do not walt to do good for
plause aud neise and praise, but do it
with your own desire, and, like the
gun, you will be loved.