Mineral Point tribune. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1854-1858, 1857-01-20

to themselves, and were making the mos,
of it.
} There was cheerful glowing fire in
/ the stove, and the little den felt warm
/ and grateful, and quite like fairy palace
of tranquil delight, after the old rotten
, bridge and its surrounding scenery of
gloom.
After thawing the encrusted snow from
his eyelids and hair, and requesting the
stranger to make himself at home. Jeffer-
sons first act was to force his visitor into
a chair, then to hurry into thescavern to
pour something of a dark liquid nature
into curiously shaped glass with mystic
lines and caballitic characters on its sides,
then to hurry back again, then to force
} the glass into the mans hand and there
: to stand waiting the effect of the opera
) ton.
"Of with it, its not poison"
The stranger smiled languid smile
He drank off the contents.
Z" Not bad to take, is it 2''
+" An unusually palatable dose for
drug store"
1.-The stranger was about forty-fve, not
a year older. He had been a portly, good
looking man enough, but stern deep lines
about the mouth and forehead told of
strong passions and time roughly handled.
His dress neither new nor shabby, nor
wanting in seasonable warmth showed
tha: poverty had no immediate share in
the recent attempt.
The scene on the bridge had effectual-
ly cleared away the effects of the nog,
and the reaction coming after the ex-
element left Timberwilk in condition
to take an invigorator himself. So filling
a little saucepan with water, he put it on
the stove and set down to preside over
its boiling.
4" Perhaps | ought not to recur-"
q You may if you like"
Then l like. Calmly now," laying
his hand on the strangers knee, and
dispassionately, don't you think you were
about to commit foolish, sinful act ?'
Calmly and dispassionately then. No
A man without hope and without pur-
pose to live for is wise to die. Why did
you bring me here g.
{" Yon said you had no home. Is that
an answer! was thinking of some such
man tonight, and wanted to see him in
the fight. Stop until l have made the
punch and then I'll draw the portrait"
The steam from two tumblers of punch
is curling through the den. The stran-
gers eyes wink again.
my canvass revealed" commenced
Jefferson, after tasting and venting his
approval in a hearty smack, g man in
rags, with grey hair, whose life had been
spent IN work-houSe and pet-house alter
nately; no wife, no children, no charac-
ter, no anything; haggard in heart as in
looks too palsied with disease to work,
too idle to labor, if he were not; nothing
to look forward to, nothing to hope with
no courage to die, no energy to live, but
with enough of desperation in the man,
in any sudden fit of despair, to dash at
eternity without a thought Ny picture
was out of drawing. You are not the
man."
"You are. mistaken" steadily, and
without looking up. " Your portrait is
true one, in part"
ooh! in part" echoed jefferson.
&C Shall l tell you a story? A Christ
mas story?"
About yourself 2"
His guest bowed.
/" My name is -
Timberwilk was about to add, Norval,'
but looking in the others face, he didn't.
Never mind the name"
The stranger took a draught of the
punch. He was thawing and getting an
other man altogether. He had come out
of the shell of his freshness.
"Years ago, nay father, with his wife
and cousin, came to this country from
small town in England. The cousins, in
business, prospered beyond their hopes,
certainly beyond their expectations. My
father loved ease, table closely packed
with friendly faces, an open house after
old country notions of hospitality. The
other was his opposite-griping, plodding,
scheming to add, add to that forswhich he
had no future. He was a dark man, lock-
ed up so close in self that no one ever
saw him clear. Business losses came,
not to any very serious extent, as was
thought at first, but heavy notes went to
protest, large demands came in, and the
house was bankrupt. The affairs were
settled. Demands were bought up by
the cousin. My father was beggar-