Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1876-11-10
a Boys Experienced in Going to school


A serious. phase of disease is that which
attacks boy ON day when he particular
| ly objects to going to school, He tells his
mother, with the confiding frankness pecu-
liar to youth, that he does not feel well this
morning. He doesn't know what it is, but
he is lame in the joints, his head aches. and
he doesn't feel bit good. He moves about
slowly; openly refuses food, looks detected
negligent, unhappy. Quite frequently he
can be heard to sigh. But in all his pain
he never forgetS the clock. As time ad-
vances to the hour which marks school-time
his symptoms increase. He doesn't say a
word about school to his mother He feels
too dreadful, perhaps, to talk ofsuch things.
He is certainly in a bad way His sighs in
crease as the dreaded time approaches, and
| the physical SYMPTOMS of decay become
more and more manifest. But the greatest
suffering he endures mentally. Fifteen
minutes of that time, and nothing has been
said to him about getting ready. He wants
to believe he is all right; because that is the
prompting Of hope which is strong in the
| youthful breast; but yet he refuses to be-
lieve ne is, because he fears that reaction
of disappointment. Every time he hears
his mothers voice he is startled, and every
| time he detects her looking towards him he
feels his heart sink within him. 1t is a
hard thing, indeed, to appear outwardly
languid, listless and dropping when inward
ly one is a roaring furnace of agony. But
he does it, and does it admirably. 1t now
lacks five minutes of thequarter. Still she
says nothing. His nervousness is almost
maddening. Four minutes, three minutes,
two minutes. One minute. Still she makes
no sign. Will his reason forsake him?
1t is the quarter. Now he should start,
according to custom. One would think he
had every encouragement now, but he
knows that even at five minutes later he can
make school by hurrying. The agony of
the suspense becomes eXquisit. He trem-
bles all over, and he cannot help it. His
hair is moist with Perspiration. 1t seems
as il he would give up everything and sink
into the grave if he could but know the re-
suit. How slowly the clock moves. It
stares at him with exasperating stoniness.
The ten minutes are reached. He breathes
easier. Not word has been said to him
about school His mother sees that he is too
i'll to go, and she sympathizes with him.
Heaven bless her! Did ever boy have
such good, noble mother as this? Visions
of sunny fields and shady woods and run
Ing SlT6dulS uuiOiu DelOT6 nlIll, SIlTTlllB
the very depths of his soul, and filling his
eyes with tears of gladness.
"John!'
Like great shock the beautiful pictures
fall away and he is shot from the pinnacle
OF hope into the abyss of despair. There is
no mistaking the voice.
''Mercy sakes! here you are not ready for
school. Come, start your bootsI'
81 do not feel well enough to go to
school" he whines, hardly realizing the
dreadful change that has come upon him
with such blighting force and swiftness.
81 guess you amt dying quite" is the
heartless reply, ''and if you amt at school
you will be galloping over the neighbor-
hood. Hurry, | tell you"
''But it is almost nine o'clock, and I'll be
late" he protests in desperation.
'Late?'' she repeat S, leo ing at the clock.
''You have plenty of time. The clock is
nearly quarter of an hour fast.
Mereiful heavens? He goes down before
the terrific blow in a flash. A quarter of
an hour fast! Bleeding at every pore of
his heart, stunned by a shock which was as
terrible as unexpected, he crawls inside Of
his jacket and under his hat, and starts on
his way in dazed manner that is pitiful to
behold. Dan6ury Ne1CS.