nd the least you might do in return is this, when
you know how we are situated. Ask God &c.

Full of contempt and hatred for my mother, I tore her letters into tiny
pieces and hurled them out the window. Oh, the hard want of sympathy they
voiced! She had forced me to this place: it would have been different had
I wanted to come of my own accord, and then sung out for a removal
immediately; but no, against my earnest pleadings she had forced me here,
and now would not heed my cry. And to whom in all the world can we turn
when our mother spurns our prayer?

There never was any sympathy between my mother and myself. We are too
unlike. She is intensely matter-of-fact and practical, possessed of no
ambitions or aspirations not capable of being turned into cash value. She
is very ladylike, and though containing no spice of either poet or
musician, can take a part in conversation on such subjects, and play the
piano correctly, because in her young days she was thus cultivated; but
had she been horn a peasant, she would have been a peasant, with no
longings unattainable in that sphere. She no more understood me than I
understand the works of a watch. She looked upon me as a discontented,
rebellious, bad child, possessed of evil spirits, which wanted trouncing
out of me; and she would have felt that she was sinning had she humoured
me in any way, so after cooling I did not blame her for her letters. She
was doing her duty according to her lights. Again, it was this way,
grannie did not come to my rescue on this occasion on account of her
attitude towards my father. The Bossiers were not at enmity with him, but
they were so disgusted with his insobriety that they never visited Possum
Gully, and did not assist us as much as they would have done had my
father's failure been attributable to some cause more deserving of
sympathy.

After reading my letters I wept till every atom of my body writhed with
agonized emotion. I was aroused by Mrs M'Swat hammering at my door and
inquiring:

"What ails ye, child? Did ye git bad noos from home?"

I recovered myself as by a miracle, and replied, no; that I was merely a
little homesick, and would be out presently.

I wrote again to my mother, but as I could not truthfully say I was
hungry or ill-treated, for, according to their ability, the M'Swats were
very kind to me, she took no notice of my plaint, but told me that
instead of complaining of monotony, it would suit me better if I clea