II

SOLITUDE

AMONG the pictures that I see
when I look back into the past, is
the one where I, a sullen, egotistic per-
son nine years old, stood quite alone in
the world. To he sure, there were fa-
ther and mother in the house, and there
were the other children, and not one
among them knew I was alone. The
world certainly would not have re-
garded me as friendless or orphaned.
There was nothing in my mere appear-
ance, as I started away to school in my
clean ginghams, with my well-brushed
hair, and embroidered school-bag, to
lead any one to suppose that I was a
castaway. Yet I was -- I had discovered
this fact, hidden though it might be
from others.

I was no longer loved. Father and
mother loved the other children; but not
me. I might come home at night, fairly
bursting with important news about
what had happened in class or among
my friends, and try to relate my little