Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1891-08-20

carried on down the stream as lightly
and indiferently as that bit of chip
dancing along there-dead to all pain OF
earth.
How shocked people would be should
such an accident befall her. And how
they would hurry TO snatch Donald from
his Jolly time with Mrs. Rogers to look
his last upon the poor dead face which
once had been the loveliest of all on earth
TO him. for he had loved herr Nothing
could rob her of the sweetness of believ-
ing that. And in the last sad moment,
when he came to press his farewell upon
the stiff lips that never again would
treinble with the JOY of his touch, if only
in pity for her the old feeling must
spring remorsefully to life again for the
time. But stay! She would be bruised
by the fall, perhaps blotched and stained
beyond recognition, and Donald liked
women to look sweet and fair. 1t would
not do to have his last look at her like
that. But there was strange fascina-
ton in this thought of death. What
other escape did earth offer from its bur
dens of pain?
Beyond the bridge, she climbed the
steep gravely bank of the railroad to
look across at the small bare cemetery
on the southern mesa. The poorest land
had been given to Gods acre, its scanty
crop of buffalo grass sere and brown
from insufficient irrigation, white
picket fence dividing it from the road in
front, its remaining sides defined with
barbed wire. A few cows had stolen
into the Enclosure and were compla.
Gently nipping at the scantily clothed
sod. And what was that small shape
scarce distinguishable from the hue OF
the ground, lithely slipping under the
fence, and scurrying up the steep hill
side? Anita watched the shifting blot
with horror stricken eyes. She hao
heard of the coyotes that sometimes
came ravenously burrowing down int
new made graves. Yet what did il
matter? Those who slept over on the
mesa yonder would not be troubled how
ever the ground were scratched above
! their heads. This was Nirvana:
Nameless quiet. nameless Joy,
Blessed Nirvana--snless, stirless rest
The change that never changes.
Suddenly she started back with ges
ture of despair, her hand instinctivel,
moving in the sign of the cross that has
been her childhood's charm against evil
All the training Of her life had been In
exorable as to the duty of living. He
mothers creed had made it mortal sil
TO wish for death; and however little tn
orthodoxy of her aunts had to make lif
the more joyous in the living, it at leas
did what it might to inspire wholesom
patience under life's ills, with the awful
| alternative of its hell God forgive am
help her! wildly stretching out implor
ing hands toward the grim old noun
tains, as it seemed to her, like prisol
walls to which she was helplessl
chained. Must she live on and on i
this environment which seemed press
! ing her down, on and on, while the lon
i colorless DAYS rolled themselves away j
wears, till her fair hands had grown a
brown and shriveled with age as tn
dried leaf she idly picked up? the poo
little Misunderstanding them out an
studying them with whimsical sadness
that must be empty Ct happiness always
when once it seemed they had more tina
they could hold. A great wave of home
sickness swept over her-a passionat
longing for escape-to go back again
the old home that in the softened haz
of memory seemed always as anotht
world of heavenly peace and Joy. l
that flower scented air the weary sol
should be wrapped in lulling repose, an
, trouble fall away like a wornout ga
ment. All, the sweetness Of going HON
like a tired child, if but to lie down o
the bosom of old mother earth and res
. She felt so worn-so deadly tired; an
surely ones rest must always be swee
1 est at home.