The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1861-12-18

slooui bIaSpinb tlt uooT Will all HtS iHfSflt
and leaning against 1t as for support. II
the meantime bis gaze wandered about th
room with straHoe anxiety, as. though i
sought in vain for what should assuredly
have been found there.
"Good evening, sir" said Jacob Newell.
The stranger made. no reply, but stood
clinging to the door, with strange and hor
rible expression, of mingled wonder and ,aw,
in his face
"'T is lunatic whispered Ruth to hel
husband.
"Sir,' said Jacob, "what do you wan
here to.nightY'
The stranger found voice at length, bu
it was weak and timorous as that Of a child
frightened.
ave were on the train, my wife and
with our three little ones,-on the train now
showed in five miles back,--and we ask. i
you will give it, nights lodging, it being
necessary that we should reach home with
out paying for our keeping at the hote! My
wife and children are outside the door, and
nearly frozen. Iassure you"
Then Ruth's warm heart showed itself
"Come in" she said "Keep you. s-o
course we can. Come in and warm your
selves"
A sweet woman, with one child in heI
arms, and two shivering beside her, glided
by the man into the room. They were i'm.
mediately the recipients of the good old la.
dy's hospitality; she dragged them at once
one and all, to the warmest spot beside the
hearth.
Still the man stood, aimless and uncer-
tain, c'utching the door and swaying to and
fro.
"Why do you stand there at the door,
Why not come ing' said Jacob Newell
Yo1 must be cold and hungry. Ruth
that's my wife, sir-will get you and your
family some supper"
Then the man came in and walked with
an unsteady step to chair placed for him
near the fire. After he had seated himself
he shook like one in an ague-fit.
81 fear you are cold," said Ruth.
"Oh, no!' he said.
His voice struggled to his lips with diff.
Guilty and came forth painfully.
The old lady went to corner cupboard
and, after moments search, brought forth
a black bottle, from which she poured some.
thing into glass. 1t smelt like Jamaica
rum. With this she advanced towards the
stranger, but she was bluntly stopped By
jacob
81 am afraid the gentleman has had toe
much of that already"
For an instant, like rcd flash of light.
ming, a flush of anger passed across his fea.
lures before the stranger meekly made an.
swer that he had not tasted liquor that day
Ruth handed him the glass and he drained
it at gulp. In moment more he sat qui-
ety upright and proceeded gravely to divest
himself of his heavy shawl and overcoat,
after which he assisted in warming and
comforting the children, who were growing
sleepy and cross.
Ruth hustled about with her preparations
for giving the strangers comfortable sup.
per, and Jacob and his unexpected guest
entered into conversation.
~ used to be acquainted hereabout," the
stranger began, Sand feel almost like get
ting among friends, whenever visit the
place. rode over with old Gus Parker to-
day, from where the train lies bedded neal
the five mile cut, but was too busy keep
ing the children warm to ask him questions
came here because your son Mark Newell
and were old cronies at school together.
don't see him here tonight, the stran
gers voice trembled now-"where is he ~
"Where we must all follow him, sooner O.
later--in the gravel
"But he had brothers-rve heaad hin
say" the stranger continued, with an anx
iety in his tone that he could by no mean
conceal; 81 believe he had-let me see-tw
sisters and three brothers. Where ar
they'"
GAN gone!'' cried Jacob Newell, r sing an,
pacing the room. Then suddenly facin
his singular guest, he continued, speaking
rapidly and bitterly, "You have three chill
dren-I had six, Yours are alive and hear
ty; but so were mine; and when was
young man, like you, foolishly though
that should raise them all, have them clus
tering around me in my old age, die befor
any Of them, and so know no bereavement
To-day l stand here solitary old man
sinking rapidly into the grave, and withou
relation of any kind, that know of, Of
the face of the earth Think that such
fate may yet be yours! But the bitterness
of life you will not fully know, unless on
Of your boys-as one Of mine did-turn
out profigate and drunken, leaves your fire
side to associate with the dissolute, an
finally deserts his home and all, forever."
''lf that son ef yours be vet alive, an
were ever to return-suddenl and withou
warning, as l have broken in upon you tc
night--if he should coMe to you and say
,, Father, have sinned against Heaven, an
before thee, and am no more worthy to b
called thy son" what should you say I
him?"
81 should say, For fifteen years yo
have deserted me without giving mark Q
token that you were in the body; now yo
have come to see me die, and you may sta
4 - A. ~.