The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-06-20

little sister, and her laugh, sweet US the CUR
Cling Of mountain brook, was in his ears,
and her little round, plump arms were about
his neck.
How she did love him, that little sister
Hetty, over whose sweet face had grown the
grass Of so many summers-how proud she
was of.him, and he could see the little gold
en- head dancing out Of the house every night
to meet him when he came home from his
work.
Stephen Dunham's mother was a poor
widow, and he had his own way to make in
the world. lie had risen step by step in his
native town, and he saw at last that greed of
money had taken possession of him until ev-
cry other wish and purpose of his life had
been swallowed up in the pursuit Of riches.
He was still young man when no came
to the city, but he brought with him the ii.
tie Of Squire, which he had borne for three
years. lie took to himself wife, the daugh-
ter Of rich man, and she brought him n
hundred thousand dollars for her dowry but
in few years death had summoned her
away, and she had left him nochildren, whose
soft sweet voices, calling him father. should
melt the cold heart that knew but one love,
and that was money.
All this Squire Durham thought of, as he
sat alone by the table, with the bright light
of the chandeliers gliding the gray head he
rested on his hands, and hc thought, rich
man as he was, that his money didn't pay
that, after all, the great object of his life had
been, as the man said, losing operation,
and he longed to feel that in this wide world
there was one human being who would be
sorry to hear he was dead-one human be-
ing, woman or child, who would say, Il am
happier this night because you are on
earth
And in the midst Of want and yearning, a
sudden recollection flashed across the mind
of Squire Durham. lie rose up and walked
again to and fro with his hands behind him,
and his forehead knit with perplexing tho't,
and variety Of emotions fitting over his
face. But suddenly he stopped, and set
down his foot resolutely. I'll do it'll do
it this very night and he went into the hall
and took up his cane, and passed out into the
street, c,ptrar, to his usual habit; for the
night was dark and cold.
"Did you see Mr.. Minor, Henry?" 1t
was faint, mournlul voice which asked this
question, and the speaker was pale, sad-
faced woman, whose sunken eyes and hollow
cheeks told at once she was an invalid. The
chamber where she sat was very poorly fur
nished, but everything was neat. A small
fire was burning in the crate, and a solitary
candle on the stand.
"No, mother, Mr.. Minor won't be at home
for week." answered the boy, slowly and
sadly, as though he hated to communicate
the news. He was q slender, delicate look.
Ing boy, apparently in his twelfth year.
ut is my last hope" said the mother,
looking despairipgly on the thin hands which
lay in her lap. "Thero is no way to pay
the rent, and the agent said If it wasn't
ready when he called tomorrow, we must 60
into the street. What will become of us,
my poor children? I'd hung on to Mr.. Mi.
nors getting back, he was 50 kind to your
father before he died; but my last hope is
gone now. could have earned the money
if it hadn't been for this sickness, brought
on by steady sewing, but tomorrow we must
20 into the street." She said these words
with great tears slowly chasing themselves
down her pale cheeks.
"Don't cry, mother, earned shilling
this afternoon selling papers, and bought you
and Mary each a nice orange" interposed
the boy, trying to speak in bright, hopeful
voice.
And now a small hand was thrust out for
the fruit, and little voice said earnestly,
"Oh mother, don't let us feel bad now we've
got the oranges"
At that moment there was q loud rap at
the chamber door, which startled the little
family, but Harry was not long in ushering
into the room an old gentleman, who in.
quired il Mrs. Carpenter resided there.
His glance took in the room and its three
occupants, and after taking the seat which
Harry Carpenter brought him he said, i
am Squire Dunham, and called here to say
Mrs. Carpenter, that | would not press the
matter about the rent; that If you could
not meet it, you might stay here, and |
would not trouble you"
A fash Of joy went over the three faces,
but the mother broke down into q sob. "Oh,
sir, God in heaven bless you for this" and
they were the sweetest words which Stephen
Dunham had heard for many day.
But before she could answer, his gaze was
attracted to small, wistful, up,urned face
in the corner, and its sweet blue eyes, and
the golden CLEAN in its brown hair, were like
that face which shonc away of in the morn.
ing Of his boyhood-the face Of his sister
Hetty!
As his gaze met the little girls she rose up
and came towards him. "You won't send
mamma, and Harry, and me, into the street,
will you!" she said, in her sweet, pleasing
..au. ..,cnnsa We can't live thnre when the