News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1891-10-22

Hewas not dead, although it would
have been merciful, perhaps, had it
been so. The glaI.eirg ball@had done
It's worst. He lived, and yet he did
not live. The springs Cf life had sus-
tanned somesubtle shock and left him
hel pless, a paralytic, with, save in his
right arm, all power of volitiOn dead.
Whether his brain was injured it
was impossible to say, but he had
been a man of unusual intelligence,
and when he recovered consciousness,
his expression, at least was unchang-
ed
"Abe, do you know me?" asked
Mrs. Alden
Thirty" replied the negro, in a
clear voice, but followed bya curious
ly bewidered look.
'Don't you know me?" she re-
peated.
''Rain-rain-" he began, hesitat-
ingly, tentatively, and then stopped,
as if frightened by the sound of his
voice
''It is a strange case" said the sur
geOn who was summoned. I'VE call
it aphasia. He has sustained an in
jury in the frontal portion of the
brain, and has lost the power of lam
guage. Does he know how to write :?
No! That is pity In some cases
they can still write. The mind is not
necessarily impaired-he has simLly
forgotten how to apply words to
ideas. 1t is complete aphasia. He
says one thing and means something
entirely different. | would not lead
him to talk much; it will simply eX-
cite him."
Mrs. Alden had the poor wreck in
stalled in II cabin on the premises and
we'll cared for. She was persuaded
| that he had received his wound in de-
fence of their home, and spared him
no attention. For long time-in
fact, for months-a singular restless
ness pervaded him. He babbled long
strings Of incOherent words, he waved
his one sound arm widely in the air,
and then, as if disparing of making
himself understood, he lapsed into a
state Of apathy and inertia, and
would sit all day long in his chair
rarely making a sound or movement.
Whether he thought or reasoned no
one could say with certitude. There
never seemed to be any marked
change. HIS greatest delight, per-
haps, was in Anna Alden, and as time
went by and she grew into a sweet
and serious girlhood, she never suf
fered herself to neglect him. Many
an hour she spent at his cabin show
ing him pictures and telling him
stories, which she insisted that he un.
derstOOd. At any rate he seemed
more animated when she was there
and yet more tranquil. But the lock
ed chamber of his brain was far from
opening, for any sign he gave, as OIL
the night they found him lying in the
grass.
Meanwhile things went wretchedly
bad upon the farm, the loss of theil
money had thrown hefamily entirely
upon the remnant of their property
for support, and those who remember
the chaos that followed the surrender
and the dismal days of reconstruction
need not be told that their OUTLOOK
was q precariOus one. Mrs. Alder
strained every nerve to keep her chill
dren in school, but bad tenants anC
half-cuItivated lands made it an up
hill fight. They We're overwhelmed
by those persistent and multiplied
small disasters which are easil,
enough traceable and yet hich seen
at the same time the pure perversit,
of fate The cOrn-crib burned. thei
best mules died, the bol-worm cam,
, in the cotton, and so on, until the,
had tasted more than one privatiol
, and it seemed half useless to prolon.
the struggle.
f But they were proud people, an,
would not yield nor complain, an,
= had a morbid fear of being pitied
: Outwardly there was no change an,
. nobody but themselves knew no,
many desperate eXpedients and hear
t breaking makeshifts kept them afloat
r viii left school of his own accord an
e took pillow, and Anna, who wa
nothing but child herself, obtaine