Both now were gone. Death had
made rigid that smiling face--her soft voice was hushed for ever--and the
cold snow was resting on their bosoms in the little churchyard miles away.
Truly the contrast between now and then was extremely saddening, and the
child bowed his head upon the seat, and sobbed in bitter grief.
"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Balch; "not crying again, I hope. I
thought you were going to be a man, and that we were not to have any more
tears. Come!" continued he, patting him encouragingly on the back, "cheer
up! You are going to a delightful place, where you will find a number of
agreeable playmates, and have a deal of fun, and enjoy yourself amazingly."
"But it won't be _home_," replied Clarence.
"True," replied Mr. Balch, a little touched, "it won't seem so at first;
but you'll soon like it, I'll guarantee that."
Clarence was not permitted to indulge his grief to any great extent, for
Mr. Balch soon succeeded in interesting him in the various objects that
they passed on the way.
On the evening of the next day they arrived at their destination, and
Clarence alighted from the cars, cold, fatigued, and spiritless. There had
been a heavy fall of snow a few days previous, and the town of Sudbury,
which was built upon the hill-side, shone white and sparkling in the clear
winter moonlight.
Pages:
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404