Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-04-11

| learning; but which on my part denoted laziness. And so it was through the whole category. She was always right; was always wrong. That which was epmmended in her was condemned in me.
 Our hair was alike in color, length and texture, yet she had auburn locks, while I had simply fred wisps'-she was "auburn-hairei," I was 'red- headed" In every particular where there was likeness between us it was l spoken of in her case as a charm, while with me it became a hideous defect. These things, of course;~ were mere trifles, but they were enough to make a sensitive child very miserable, notwith- standing.
 In spite of the vast difference made between us, and the feeling of jealousy that sometimes ranked in my breast because of it, loved my sister dearly, and did everything that had the power to do to make her love me in return. For a time she seemed to be very fond of me, and often when I wept in lonGi- ness and sorrow she came to me, and, l putting her arms about me, kissed me and took away that feeling of desola- bIOA 14lSdO "dS SOulCbllllGS St HedNY OH my heart. But that was when she was very young and befolN her mother had l instilled into her mind the principles of 1 her own.
 My stepmother made it point to inn press her daughter with the idea that | though we were sisters a wide gulf lay between us, and that her life and mine lay in widely separated grooves. This | teaching, consistently pursued, had it's effect in time, and gradually my sister and drifted farther and farther apart, chaSm across which we could never clasp hands, opening wider and deeper, day by day, at our feet.
 Mary grew to look upon me as a be- ing inferior to herself and as one not worthy of her consideration. The little love she had held for me died out of her heart, and she had neither sympathy nor care for my sufferings and heart aches. The change in her was not so gradual as to escape my notice, and many were the tears I shed and many the hours of agony I experienced as watched her love slipping from me and knew there was none other to lean on for sympathy.
 Oh! what would 1 not have given for the power of retaining my sisters affections and of drawing her closer to me and making her feel for me as I felt for her! What sacrifice would I have not made to retain the little love, scant though it was, which she had given me? What sacrifice, i'll short, did not make to that end? I willingly gave up to her the best of rything-willingly con sented to her having all the new dresses, the jewels, the musical instru- ments, and in fact all the beautiful and desirable things that came to the house. Of course in such self-sacrifices 1 made virtue of necessity, since she would have had all these things, anyhow; but it was a virtue, nevertheless, for loving such luxuries as did it required a great effort of will-power not to covet them not to feel that they should be in part mine.
 Furthermore, I made myself servant for my sister, and was ever ready to ad- minister to her wants. I would do any service, no matter how menial, if there by she could be favored. I would deny myself any pleasure or comfort, if by so doing her pleasure was augmented. abased myself at her feet, in short, and all in the hope of retaining her love.
 Yet my sacrifices availed me nothing No matter how I denied myself for her sake, Mary thought l was only doing my duty. No matter how I abased my self for her aggrandizement my sister felt that was simply rendering to her the homage that was her due. She showed no appreciation of my sacri- fees, and failed to so much as return me thanks for my services. In spite of all my efforts my sisters heart closed against me, the chasm between us widened day by day and we drifted farther and farther apart.
 At last I was forced to realization of my sisters feelings, and, though I would have given the world to have avoided it, I had to acknowledge to my self that she had no love in her heart for me. This knowledge, when I all lowed it to possess me, came with crushing effect, and felt that my heart would break beneath it. I realized that the only tie of love had on earth was severed. and that l was alone and a stranger in my. own family. An! how l longed for love--how I mOurned my desolation! How I prayed that some heart might reach out toward me, ex- tending a thread of sympathy, and throwing ray of light into the dark ness that surrounded me!
 Time passed on, and with each set ting of the sun saw a perceptible widening of the dark gulf that separ- ated me from all that was pleasant of earth. With each day, each hour, felt the gloom and desolation deepening and thickening about me. was unloved, friendless and alone.
 CHAPTER III
 CRUEL, UNJUST PUNISHMENT. If pninhf haua haar, -1rpOv1rr ;,, r,,o l,,,k