The Penn's Grove record., 1884-03-29

in the wide world. Mother hates me.
She said so. Oh, father, please don't
ask me to go on that miserable picnic,
if it Is to take all the pleasure Of my
life away she cried, trembling, cling
ing close to him.
Darling, it will not do to give way
to such selfshness as your mother has
shown, she shall not go on treating you
as she has been doing. Dry your eyes
now, Phyl, and go to please me l will
see that you are treated in a manner
BETTING my child when you return y
And he led her out hastily and placed
her in the wagon with the boys, still
soothing her. She could scarcely re-
strain her sobs, for the words uttered
so cruelty sunk deep into her heart.
"Oh, God, l wish l never had been
bornl' she moaued, as with dry eyes
and whirling brain. she drove old
Timur along the road past sweet-smell-
ing hedges and shady hooks; but her
eyes were blind to the beauties of
nature now; she heard only that cruel
voice saying:
II never cared for youl' All the
youth and beauty in her life seemed
blotted out. The boys did not notice
the strange white look of their sisters
face. They were e~lamourously talking
of what fun they were to have.
When they arrived at the spot which
was designated as the ''picknickin'
grounds by the country people, many
of the pleasure seekers were already
assembled, and kind hands assisted
Phyllis to alight, and disposed of her
horse and wagon for her. Every one
noticed how white and troubled she
looked, and how quiet she was.
"What ails Phyl Treyor2' the Young
people whispered to each other.
The poor child wandered off from
them all, away through the quiet green
woods until she came to M old log
which lay felled across her path, and
here she sat down, resting her aching
head against the trunk of a tree.
"Oh, can it be true, can it be true,
that she wishes | never had been born?
That she does not love me? Mother,
mother, you were always stern to me,
but l never dreamed thisl'' she moan
ed. hiding her face in her hand and
sobbipg convulsively. The violence of
her grief at length exhausted itself,
and her hands fell from her tear-stained
face, her head drooped-she was fast
asleep. How long she lay there she
never knew. When she awoke it was
with a violent start of terror. The
woods reverberated with peals of
thunder. She started up; at that
instant a flash of tightening almost
blinded her, and was succeeded by
another peal of thunder. The rain
came down in torrents and Crenched
her to the skin.
Another flash, another peal, and a
great tree, the very one against which
she had been leaning, cracked, groaned,
and then, before the terrified girl could
make an effort to escape, it fell forward,
bearing her frail young figure before it.
She had not time to cry out, even.
There she lay in all her innocent
beauty, crushed like a bud before its
time.
When, after the storm had spent
itself. some of the pleasure seekers
came to search for the missing girl,
they almost stumbled across her body,
which lay crushed beneath the giant
tree. Her sweet face was turned up
ward, and her great dark eyes, now
glazed and fixed in death, were wide
open, with a look of despair and horror
frozen in them. The men raised the
trunk of the tree with logs, for levers,
and lifted the body from its place
among the fallen leaves and branche
and carried it, with its wet golden hair
and waxen face, to a wagon, where the
young TrevOrs waited with awed,
frightened faces and they drove gently
home with their silent burden.
Three days afterward a funeral took
it's solemn way from Stonybrook farm
to the little church which stood in the
midst of the weeping-willows. Mr..
Trevor came very neal being killed by
the shock of his favorite child's death.
and his wife? For a while she was
also insane with remorse and grief; she
found when too late that her child was
dear to her; she has been the
same woman since, and in her bent
form and snow-white HAIR 1t is hard to
recognize the Mrs. Trevor of other
days. The country people for miles
around know the story and pity the
anguished woman, but they know not
what a terrible thing is that mothers
remorse.