At the border of life and death, said a folktale, there was a river called the River of Forgetting, and on the bridge an old woman called Mrs.

NEWYORKER: Alone

She had been feeling envious for a long time of the higher life of the state, where there was now heroism, renown, and vigor, and where the youth and strength of an old woman, vainly expended in deprivation and horror in the old days, were in demand again.

NEWYORKER: Among Animals and Plants