Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1892-06-04
it was hail and was afraid to open the

window at first. ="
Have you got any string i'll your
pocket? Drop it down if you have, SC
can tie this on, said Lena.
There is no string at all, Lena. ArntN
does not let me have it to waste" all
swered Carl soberly.
"Well, catch this stick, then; there is
a string tied to it; and then you can
draw up my horse. 1t is the only boys
plaything l have, and every night when
the moon shines l will bring it over, if
you like it,"
"Oh, if Aunt Jane knew she would be
very angry! Such things make me lazy,
she says, and must not have them. You
know my big box of things, Lena? She
has put them away in the old barn, and
can never have them ~ lin" said Carl,
excitcdly catching at the stick time after
time, but missing it, though the window
was not so very high up in the low, old
fashioned house.
Don't talk quite SO loud, Garlic; she
may hear you. There-now you've got
it! Amt it pretty? Play with it all you
want to, and I'll wait for you, Roll the
wheels on your bed, or she might hear
them rattle on the floor. I'd leave it,
only if she found it she might whip
you. Does she ever whip you, Carlie?'
Every time I'm naughty replied
Carl, disappearing inside to roll the shin
ing toy softly over his hard bed. Two
done it! Lena, he said in subdued
tone. 1T is very pretty. Oh, if | could
keep it! Say, Lena, couldn't come and
stay with you, please? l don't believe
Aunt Jane needs little boy; she don't
seem to love me at all"
"Hush, Garlic, hush, or she will hear!'
cautioned Lena, as the childish voice
piped out loud in its eagerness. NO,
think she would not let you come.
Never mind, though, you'll soon be big
man, and will come to see you all the
moonlight nights"
ITS such a pretty horse, Lena. said
the child, leaning out at the window;
"but | want to talk to you Don't you
wish we could 20 back to where we lived
once with papa? Did we ever have a
mamma, like Jennie DAVIS, who comes
to work for Aunt Jane, wonder? Oh,
if you could only come here and let mo
touch your face, Lpna!"
There was sob in the boys voice, and
the sister looked up into tn" little face
which even from that height she coul,;
plainly see was thinner and palcr than
tlsuil.
Are you sick, Carlie?" she asked.
81 guess so. My head is sore and |
can't walk much, I'm SO tired, but don't
;'ay abed, only nights. I'm tired and
lerpy now, but | C mt bear to have you 80
away with the pretty plaything. How
long has it been since | came here do
yon know, Lrna?"
"Two years. dear. 1t seems a good
while, don't it? I'll he glad when we're
grown ur a>l then we'll go away and
live by ourselves.
"Oh, yes! That will be so good!"
sighed the weary child, with half sob
of joy.
The tin toy was lowered regretfully.
at Lena's suggestion; she knew the child
ought to be sleeping; beside, her own
bedtime was near
She looked back many times as she
went down the short road and saw Carl's
little form leaning half way out the Win
dow, watching her along the way to her
home, with longing eyes and heart
The visit was repeated several times,
till at length, one night, Lena was not
greeted joyfully by her brothers face in
the old attic window. 1t was closed
TIGHT and there was no resnonse tn the
gravel thrown against the glass as on
that first night.
All, if Lena could have seen withini
And yet it would have been too cruel,
md it was mercy that she could not.
Even while she walked slowly and re-
'uctantly down the road Carl was gasp
ing his last faint breath, and on the
ground beneath the window lay his sis
ters brightest, newest toy, glistening in
the moonlight, forgotten by her in her
disappointment because of Carls failure
to appear.
Why is it that to such ignorant, ineffi-
cient beings as the Jane Hardy of this
sketch delicate, beautiful children are so
often bequeathed, and made to suffer
from birth till an early death treatment
which, while it may seem judicious and
wise, is nevertheless directly the contrary,
beside being cruel and wicked?
All vnt "tha snnnAr 'tis tho
sooner to sleep. Carl is at rest and happy
at last. st.-Mary S. Potter.
GEOGRAPHICAL ODDITIES.