El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1898-10-08
A Child'S Grief.

He was only five years old, and when
his mother died, 50 much grief was felt
by the older members of his family
that they did not realize how foriorn
the little fellow was. They thought
he was too young to feel his loss very
keenly. He did not cry. He wander
ed about with white, frightened face,
terrified by: the sorrow and solemnity
OF death. He touched the cold.
white, hands and longed to kiss the
81 ent lips, but he was afraid. He
whispered her name, and for the first
time in his life there was no loving
response. He could not understand
palling sense of loneliness. He watch
ed the funeral ceremonies in awed
silence. The older children wept. He
wondered at all the strange peo-
ole and things. When he
saw her lowered into the grave, he
felt he must fling himself in
with her, but again he was afraid.
His fathers face was white and drawn
and stern. He wondered il his father
was angry with his mother because
she had died. He felt angry and i'm
patient himself at times. She had
never done anything so strange before.
To lie so still and dull, without word
for any one, WAS not like her.
He fell asleep in the garden after the
strangers all went away, and had bad
dream. He walked with a start and
ran into the house calling, Mamma,
mamma She has always been his
comfort when he walked in the night
from a bad dream. His sister caught
him by the shoulder as he rushed
through the hall. Hush. hushr" she
said, in sharp, strained voice. She
could not forgive him for forgetting
so soon that his mother was
dead. He stood still moment, dazed
by her half tearedstained face Then
he remembered, and walked soberly
back to the garden more like q man of
| fifty than a baby of five. He sat and
| Dondered. He must know something
more about the thing called death. He
must ask some one. He wondered
vaguely why his mother had not
told him about it. Perphaps his
father could. He stole softly
into the room and sat quite still close
to his father, who was 80 sorrow-strick-
en- that he failed to notice the child.
He waited for word, and then the
| thought came to him perhaps it was all
| mistake and mother was upstairs.
The fancy became certainty as he
| stole out OF the room, closing the door
softly, and, with q joyous shout of reac-
| tion against the sJifiing weight of sor-
| row that filled the house, rushed up
tDe SUalrs Wlbn lauRn on MS lips.
Thirteen-year-old Mildred, red-eyed
| and pale, met him with an indignant,
"You cruel boy! how can you laugh
| and shout when mother has just been
| buried?" His heart fell, but he could
not be convinced until he had sough6
everywhere He kept from room to room
| looking under tables and beds and be-
hind chairs and doors. He could not
| find her. 1t must be true. The night
was falling. He stood silently beside
1 each older member OF the family, look
ing with eager, wistful eyes into each
sad fsce-but he found no one to ques-
ton him and he did not know how to
| ask for what he wanted, and there was
no one to understand his dreadful lone
| illness, his utter need of love and COM
fort.
| It was ten o'clock. The oldest sis
ter reused herself sufficiently to send
the children to bed, and went upstairs
to help the youngest undress. The lit
tie lad could not be found. The house
| was searched, the garden, the road ::
| the neighbOrs joined in the search in
vain, until a woman who understood
the heart of child said: You'll find
him with his mother. Where else
| should baby be at night?''
| They found him sleep on her grave.
Home and Farm.