The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1877-06-07
A ToncIling stof5.

ut IS school time now she Ealu. :
"Go, my son, and once more5et mo
beseech you to think upon whats4
have said.y
81 shan't go to SCHOOL, / said.
She looked sastonished at my qoo
ness, bit replied 6fnly
Certainly you VIII 90, Alfred, \
cammand you"
81 will not" said !, in n tone of de-
fiance.
zone of two things you must do,
Alfred-either go toschool this morn
ing or will lock you in your room
and keep you there till you are ready
to promise implicit obedience to my
wishes in the future.
81 dare you to do it; you can't get
me up stairs"
"Alfred, choose now," said my moth
er, who laid her hand upon my arm.
She trcmbled violently andwa dead
ly pale.
%If you touch me, I'll kick you,"
said | in a terrible rage. God knows
| knew not what | said.
"Will you go, Alfrd?"
"No," | replied, but l quailed be-
meath her eye.
"Then follow me, as she grasped
my arm tightly.
! raised my foot-oh, my son, hear
me! | raised ray foot and kicked her
my sainted mothetl How my head
reals as the torrent of memory rushes
over me! | kicked my mother, a
feeble woman-my mother! she stag
gered back a few step against the
wall. She did not look at mel saw
her heart beat against her breast.
"0h, Heavenly Father" said she,
forgive him-hc knows not what he
does"
The gardener just then passed the
door, and seeing my mother pale and
almost unable tosupport herself, stop
ped. She beckoncd him in.
Take this boy up stairs" said she;
Clock him up in his room," and she
turned from me. Looking back as
she was entering her room, she gave
me such a look of agony mingled
with the most intense luye-it was
the most unutterable pang'- from n
broken heart.
In a moment found myself q pris-
oncr in my own room. Thought l for
a moment that / would fling myself
out of the open window and dash my
brains out, but / felt afraid to do it;
| was not penitent. At times my
heart was subdued; but my stubborn
pride rose in an instant and bade me
not yeild. The pale face of my dear
mother haunted me, / flung myself
on the bed and fell asleep.
"Just at twilight | heard a footstep
at the door. 1t was my sister,
"What can / tell mother for you?"
she asked.
"Nothing," l replied.
ooh, Alfred! for my sake, for all our
sakes say you are sorry. She longs
to forgive you"
l would not answer. l heard her
footsteps slowly retreating, and again
| threw myself on the bed to pass an
other wretched night.
Another footstep slower and feeb-
Ter than my sisters disturbed me-
A voice call me by name. twas my
mothers.
"Alfred, my son, shall 1 come2'
she asked.
l cannot tell what influence, oper-
atingat that moment, made me speak
adverse to my feelings The gentle
voice of my mother melted my obdu-
rate heart and thrilled through me,
and longed to throw myself on her
neck, but did not. But my words
gave the lie to my heart when / said
that / was not sorry, | heard her
withdraw. / heard her groan. /
longed to call her back. But l did
not.
| was awakened from an uneasy
slumber by hearing my name loudly
called, and my sister was standing
by my bedside.
"Gct up, Alfred Oh, don't wait a
minutcl Get up, come with mel
Mother is dyingl'
| thought l was dreaming, but /
got up mechanically and followed my
sister. On the bed, and as cold MS mar
bic, lay my mother, She was not un-
dressed. She had thrown herself on
the bed to rest; arising to go again to
me she was seized with palpitation
of heart, and borne senscless to her
room.
| connot tell you with what agony
| looked upon her. my remorse was
tonfold greater from the fact that she
would never know it.
l believed myself to be her mur-
derer, fell on the bed beside her |
could not weep, My heart burned
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