The weekly Butte record., 1863-09-12

anu CRY out Is II III pdlu, haEttH.
YOU viii kill ne; you will your fatherl"
He isn't the same man now-he is gloo-
my and silent-he seems to be brooding
over some great sorrow, and We can
guess what that sorrow IS"
Without designing it, the mother
sent daggers to the heart Of her son.
He had burst into deep cry of agony,
and twisted his hands into his hair. |
endeavored to soothe him and prevent
his doing violence to himself.
LET me CO." said he. ''Let me 90.
| had better to have died than ever to
have come back. Why didn't drown
myself in the river, as | was tempted!'
No more of that" | said somewhat
severely. "The errors Of the past are
to be retrieved, not scaled up with the
black seal of despair. | promise you,
Martin, that if YOU truly desire and
will it, You shall be man yet, restored
to your heme and friends, and to your
own self-respect. VIII you go and tell
his father he is here"
80. dare not" said Mrs. Lockwood
-'With all his kindness he is so stern
he is so set against Martin, ROW, it must
be broken to him by degrees, You must
do it,
81 shall send for him, them | an
swered.
But l was saved the trouble by seeing
Mr.. Lockwood shortly afterwards pass
the house. hailed him from the door,
and invited him to enter my study.
He came ina tall, iron framed man,
slightly bent, with his thin gray hair
and wan features, that looked as if they
had known affiiction and became greatly
reconcilcd to it.
He sat down in the chair his son had
sat in but short time before. As |
watched the expression of his stern, sor-
rowful face, | thought how strange it
was that he could sit there and think, as
distant and lost, unconscious that he
was even In the next room, with but half
closed door between them.
Yet Mr.. Lockwood must have felt
the influence of the drama that was en-
acting near him. He seemed to know
that | wished to talk to him about Mar
tin.
Il have been told," said !, that your
son has written you letter. Is he
coming back 2"
81 had presentiment when | came
in that | was to have my feelings wrung
again. he responded, uneasily moving,
and knitting his brow. ''Fd rather not
talk on that subject. 1t causes useless
pain"
Il have heard from your son." said.
"Ah." He started, and his grey
eyes flickered with emotion, as he turn
ed questioning glance upon me. ''He
has written to youF'
81 have news of him, and | know
that he is penitent. He would return
to you if you would receive him. a
crisis in his life has arrived; his whole
future-pcrhaps his souls salvation
turns upon the event. Would we cast
off brother at such a time-how much
less a son -
at is useless,'' cried the old man,
shaken by anger, or pain or both. Il
have tried him; he has failed me in
everything. God forgive him-I cant!'
Has he sinned against you seventy
times seven - | mildly inquired.
eyes, and more-Yct-yet-'tisn tbs not
that | don't forgive him-I wish him
well-but he no longer has any claim,
he is no longer my son, and never men
ton his name to me me again"
He arose with violent emotion his
cane trcmbled in his grasp, and he was
hurrying away when | gently detained
him.
"Hear one word, and l will never
importune You again on this subject. |
Lave seen your SON.
Without speaking, he looked at me
rangely-pale, and shaking more and
more-and suffered himself to be led
back to a chair.
81 have seen him, and if | know any
thing of him, Martin is changed crea-
ture. Not poverty alone, but a reali-
zation of his guilt towards You, and a
yearning for forgiveness-for & better
life-has brought him back. Have We
not sinned-Have | not-have you not
against our Father, Brother Lock
wood ,"
God only knows what sinner
am.'' exclaimed the old man, with his
head bowed upon his cane.
And does God stand out when you
return to him, and remind YOU of your
many offences, which he refuses to for
give or does eopen his merciful arms
and tenderly receive you back ?"
"No more! no more!' he groaned
aloud. 81 tell YOU it is useless. You
only agonize me. My mind is made up.
4 i Ao,