The Portsmouth inquirer. [volume] (Portsmouth, O. [Ohio]) 1849-1855, 1855-02-23

Try claimant Ior. reward.
'Ay-and so, rather than ask for wha
the parties would have been glad to give
you have exhausted your little savings
sold your watch and books, and are now
reduced to the last ha'penny%
BY Heaven! you are right, Jack said
Bedford, Ihaven'ta penny-and here i;
a prescription the physician has left, and
know not how to procure the means oi
buying it.
See what thing friendship is. said
Masters, taking coin from his waistcoat
pocket. Here's half crown now.
reckoned on converting it tomorrow into
good Hollands. Take it, never say de-
serted a friend in distress. There it's
YOU'RE good fellow at heart, Jack,
always said it, said Bedford taking the coin
And / accept this money with the less re-
luctance, because l an going to put it to
a better use than you designed it for. 0,
Jack. why can't you leave off that one
evil habit 2
Don't preach, boy said Masters--'but
go and get your doctors stuff. The old
man will want it when he wakes up
Fool ? mutlered Masters, when the
door closed on the young locksmith. He
isn't quite starved to my purpose yet
But misery will bring downh his proud scru.
Piles. One evil habit did he say He
forgets have senses, all craving for enjoy
ment. Work who would work in civ
like London, with wealth boarded up in
millions round him, only waiting for the
bold heart to snatch it =? This key = he
muttered, drawing out a small brass key
as he spoke, must be the passport to gold
en- treasures. The old hunks would keep
a pretty round sum in his safe. How
strane it should have fallen into the hands
of the only man, besides himself and Bed
ford, who knew it and its value. sup
pose l must try the adventure alone
Well-well-the next enterprise project he
shall aid me That loan of half crown
shall be repaid with interest
As Masters finished this solIpquy; Bed
ford returned with themedioine, and thank
ing him for his kindness, bade him GOOD
night. The invalid aroused from his I'M
easy slumber, and Frank administered the
medicine. In few moments, the effect
was perceptible. His eye frightened, his
breathing became more regular, he looked
more like himself than he had done for ma.
ny a day.
'Frank, said he, 4 am afraid I shall
never be able to repay your care.
MY dear father, said the young man
do not speak thus. Do ! not owe every
thing to you-not only my life-not only
the skill to which owe my daily bread
but the knowledge and the taste that SO
lace my sorrows and lift me above m,
humber sphere?'
The old man shook his head
Life, my boy, said he, TO such as W,
are, is a weary burthen; the skill you speal
of barely suffices 10 keep starvation away
and literature to the helot is but ques
tionable gift.
4 have not found it So replied the
young man.
Has it never given you aspirations in
consistent with your lot?'
1T has given me aspirations, father-anc
hope. Nothing is impossible to the strong
heart and hand and cultivated mind.
gaze upon the privations we endure as
tcmpormy-I promise myself to bind cir
cumstances to my will
May the future prove as bright to YOU
as the past has been dark to mel replied
the invalid. Hear me, Frank. wasno
always the toiling slave you have knowl
me. My father was man of wealth.
But all that wealth was destined for my
elder brother, and he fondly fancied tha
he would grace it with the tastes and ac
complishments of a gentlemen. He wa.
mistaken in his character--all that Ruper
Harland lived for was gold--as the even
has proved.
'Harland, then, was the family name|
], 1T was. For my part, though ! wa
fond of letters, I did not disdain the me
i ehanic arts. | amused myself with learn
] ling tile locksmith's trade-and that con
/ frmedmy fatberin his notions that Iwoulc
never do credit to the family. Still th
, portion OF a younger son was reserved 70
t me. But even that | lost by my owl
fault. ! became enamored Of beautiful
\ girl, the daughter Of one of my father
cotters. Despairing of ever gaining hi
consent, and too impatient to await tn
slow course of events. l married her,
I My fathers Indignation drove me fror
his doors. Ineyer saw his face again.
+ He died, unforgiving, and left the Who'll
Of his property to my brother. droppe
: the family name, assumed that we nov
bear, and came up to London to-: try m
S fortune. In this oyercrowded mart Of in
tellact and handiwork, success is the resu
:, of chance. | was of the many unfortu
(, nate. Ny poor wife died in giving yo
! birth. Since then, your life and min
' have been a series Of continuous st,ua
giles for mere existence. | have reache
I the term of mine; and | could die conten
! but that 1 hnow ! leave only . legacy
9 trouble toyou., .sa' t@5s,
My dear father, be Of good cheer, sal
: the young man. Trust my augury (
4 better days, But have you never mad
a an effort to discovery your brother?
t sNeyer-too well / know the obdurac
4 of his nature. Besides, my pride is equ;
. to his, and ] had rather starve than ow
> existence to his disdainful charity.
/ Franz Bedford was not the only listene
a to this tale, at the close of which, fathe