The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1860-11-08
THE LOST INHERITANCE.
BY N. d. GAMER.


at the station of Joigny, town upon the
route, and after leaving few passengers
again went on. The station, for mo-
ment crowded with railway porters and
lockers on, was soon deserted by all but
two individuals. One of them was an
old man, dressed in the garb of well.to.
do farmer--the other, youth of about
five and twenty, who seemed to be wait
ing for some one to come and meet him.
To this person the old man presently ad.
dressed himself.
"May l presume, sir" said he, "to
inquire if you are Clement b. p
"Ycs, my good man." replied the
youth, with a haughtiness of manner,
land l have no doubt you are MIR. Mar,
tin" ..-
At your service, sir" replied the
other.
"Well, Mr.. Martini continued
Clement, in the same tone, began to
imagine you intended to keep me wait
ing. That would not have been the best
manner in which to have insinuated
yourself in my good graces."
The old man, instead of replying, let
his head fall upon his breast as if in deep
affiiction, and conducted the new conner
towards a large, Uu-IaSnlnncd carriage,
to which a very rough looking horse was
harnessed.
Here is your carriage, SIR said
Martin. If you will be good enough tt
get in, l will have the honor of conduct
ing you to the hermitage
"That my carriage, sir?" cried Glenn
ent. "Why, sh II be taken for trav
cling peddlar."
But few days before, Mr.. Clement
B., who now put on so many fine airs,
was a simple clerk in crockery ware
house in Paris, and possessed the repu
tation of being quiet, unpretending lit
tie fellow. What, then had brought
about this sudden and radical transfer
nation? He had become, since the pre-
vious day, rich man, and it may be vel
understood that the possessor of an in
come of twenty thousand francs yea
finds it difficult to retain the modest de
,neanor of poor clerk. On the previou
day. while dusting the large piles o
crockery under his charge, a letter arriv
ed for him by the post, conveying to hin
the startling intelligence that one of hi
uncles, of whom he had often heard al
an eccentric and very wealthy old man
but whom he had never seen, had jus
died at his residence in Burgundy, leav
ing his nephew, Clement, sole heir to hi
estates, to the exclusion of many othe
heirs.
The letter was from a notary in tn
province, who desired him to leave Pari
Immediately for Joigny, the town nea
which this uncle had resided, where h
would be met by Mr.. Martin, an oil
confidential servant of the deceased, an
conducted from the railroad to the ale,
mitage," the name which the deccase
had given to his estate.
Almost driven out of his senses b
such an unexpected stroke of fortune
Clement fastened to obey the notary
directions, aud, on his arrival at Joign
joined Martin, as VIC have seen.
On jol,ed the queer vehicle in whic
our hero had so contemptuously taken
place, until, after ride of several miles
the occupants arrived at their destin,
tion. Martin offered the honors of th
Hermitage to the new proprietor, calls
all their servants and introduced them |
their future master, and then conducte
the latter to his own apartments.
"This was the sleeping chamber (
your uncle" said Martin, as they ente
ed large apartment, furnished in ol
fashioned style "It was in this roo
that he died ten days ago"
But the nephew, instead of evincin
any emotion uron being shown the chan
Der of his benefactor, threw upon a
around him look of scorn, and cried :
'Upon my word can't say I think muc
Of the old boys taste. never saw an,
, thing SO very ugly in all my life !"
Notwithstanding, sir" replied Ma
tin, I" it is the best We have here ; AM
if you cannot content yourself, l real
don't know where you will find oth'
$ lodgings"
Il live here! !" exclaimed the youn
= man. "You do not imagine am sue
donkey, l hope! For us young fellow
do you see, Paris is the only pace sh,
sell t;i;s old crazy reokery at once, ar
!. then be Of"
z "Sell the Hermitage J." exclaim
Martin--" your uncle's favorite place
residence. Ilhpoasiblel And We ser
: ants, who hoped to sad our days under th
g roof, what is to, become of us ?"
!, Mr.. Martini retorted the you
t man, f'let me have none of your col