Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-09-24

for she answered, "I guess twas just a
stone"
The child had grown so near to me that
| could interpret her feelings frequently.
half by intuition, and half by little signs
that had learned to know the hidden
meanings Of wonder if i, seems a trife
to others, this little incident that has so
z uch pathos IN ii to me? Cannot you put
yourself in this ignorant Caffre child's
place? Your first conscious touch is not
the warm FISH of a mother. out the warns
mother earth. You grasp it, play with it,
fashion it into wonders Your tears fail
on it: your tired baby head rests on it.
It makes you lovely flowers; the animals,
your darling friends. burrow in it, love it,
And would you not love it, this mother to
whom you carried your griefs, who rested
you, cared for you. made you happy. and
would you not love its touch, love to lie
upon it. breathe upon it, caress it?
Il always yields to your touch, responds
III some way to your love. Through baby
mood, childhood, it remains always the
same; It's now part of your being to love
and be loved by the earth. You know no
human love, no other touch of affection;
suddenly one day you find it turned hard
and cold-it has hurt you. If one you
we'd, who had always been kind and true,
should one day strike you, would it be easy
to say at once to another, Yes, he struck
me; he has become unkind' or would
you not excuse or evad9 il, is 2 IN did ia
her sweet equivocation, 81 guess twas just
a stone was more real to her than any
human being had ever been, but was not
half as real, half as vital, to her as the
earth. was not so good TO her, nor did
| love her as well. could never have hurt
her by any act OF mine as that bit Of fruzen
ground had been able TO do.
Her world was changing 50 fast now;
nothing was left that she cared for, the
last twie was bare, the last rlvulet frozen,
the last insect hidden, he whole ea1 5h was
bitterly 1epellent. And now there was fall
ling this strange white snow, slowly but
certainly burying the world.
Her imagination bad been fred over ne
fancy of what it would be- but this long
realIz ltion, this unvarying weird monot-
Ony of whiteness, numbed her with un-
Speakahle fear
1t had showed for three days, out the
next morning was bright and clear When
] came down, z IN was at her place by the
window again; the expression Of interest
tnat was on her face during the snowfall
was gone, and strangely solemn look in
III its place.
''WelI Ztn?' | greeted her.
She started to speak, but the words
would not come | saw she was sadly un-
happy, aud tried to divert her If had
known then what | learned afterward-
that the brave little heart which had rev
er feared living thing. was stricken with
tearor at the whole worll dead, and the
thought that she should never feel again
the soft earth under her, or hear the birds
sing, or see the bushes blossoms might
have cheered the child, might have taken
her away from the drpary expanse of white
ness and GOODNESS, What was life to her
nOwp
Day after day she must have watched
through those long winter months to see
if the earth would come to life again, and
perhaps hoped a little as she watched.
But at last the little ray of hope must have
gone, for each day seemed colder and the
wind bleaker than ever before
She was stricken with terror at the sight
of the dead world GEORGE HEATH, III
Harper's MAGAZINE.