Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-04-12

through the orchard. She was Mrs. Brown, and lived near us, and she and my stepmother visited a great deal. I would have gone away when I saw her, but she called to me to wait, and I obeyed.
 "What are you crying about, child2' she asked, when she came up to me.
 "Because I am so miserable" I an swered, wiping my tears away on my cotton apron.
 "And why are you miserable?" she continued, fastening her sharp black eyes on me inquiringly.
 Because nobody loves me-" replied, swallowing my sorrow. II haven't any friends, and nobody except Aunt Mary likes me-"
 Mrs. Brown shook her head.
 "I'm sure you're mistaken" she said. "Your father loves you and your step mother loves you"
 No, no, nor' I cried, with energy. "She don't love me. She hates me. I know she does"
 II think you are mistaken, my child," Mrs. Brown said, softly. "I'm sure your mother does not hate you; though I dare say she might love you more if you were more lovable and had less disagreeable disposition. You should try to make yourself more pleas ant-more loving and lovable-and thus win people to you instead of driving them away. Stubbornness is very bad trait, and unless you cultivate it out of your nature, you can never be happy. See how happy your sister is, how much she is loved; and it's all because she is gentle and kind, and does not always want her way"
 looked up at the lady in surprise. Could it be possible, wondered, that she really believed what she was say ing, and that was looked upon as a contentious, selfish child, while my sister was viewed in the opposite light? Was I, who had never claimed any privileges, never contended for any rights, to have my sisters faults as cribed to me, while my virtues were given to her? To be judged thus wrongfully was more than could bear tamely, and more than I would bear without protest.
 q never try to have my way" cried 1T never contend for anything. I'd do anything, give anything, if peo- pie would only love me. But they won't. try to make them, but it does no good. People won't believe in me, and no matter how good act and how bad Mary acts, she gets the credit and the praise and I get the blame. I know I'm not bad, and I've tried, oh, so hard, to win peoples love"
 Mrs. Brown gave her head another solemn shake, then proceeded to read me a lecture on what she chose to term my naughty disposition. It made me very miserable to have her blame me with faults that were entirely foreign to my nature, and hold my father, sister and stepmother up as the ones who were deserving of sympathy. But nothing could say would set me right with her, and when she went away, my grief broke forth afresh.
 "Why, oh why" I thought, must everybody misiudge me?"
 There was a boy with Mrs. Browr whom did not know at that time, anC to whom scarcely gave glance as he stood waiting while we talked. sup posed he would care little for my sui ferings, and if he ever thought of me d all when away it would be only tc laugh at my troubles. He went away when Mrs. Brown did, and thought nt more of him until five minutesyor so haC passed, and I looked up and saw hin coming back gave quick glance a his face as he drew close to me, and in voluntarily stretched forth my hand t, him. In his countenance I saw pity an, sympathy plainly written, and intui lively knew that in him l should fir
 a friend-one who would know IT
 heart and understand me, and give IT
 credit for what was due me.