Litchfield enquirer., 1865-11-16
J:oHN oAKEHART AND SON.

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 JoHN OAKEHART AND SON.
 V A -EH
 John Oakehart & Son are Baltic merchants. FEodngg John entered his fathers office as a clerk, at sixty pounds year, of which he paid his mother forty for his board, lodging and washing, and clothed himself with the odd twenty Dofnot imagine that Mir. Oakehart's establishment required this assistance. The gentleman desired to make his son feel inde- pendent-he was man, he earned his own livelihood, and he should feel that he support sed himself At 25 years of age, young Cake hart marries, receiving with his wife moder- tate sum of money. He wants to purchase a share in his father s business; they cannot come to terms. s Young John can make. better bar gain with rival firm in the trade. The old man hesitates; he likes the sound of John 1Oakehart & Son, but business is business. Had his son married penniless girl, the father would have given him what he now refuses to sell, but now business is business, anu as cal yculation, he can't do it. So young John be. comes chief partner in rival firm to one which must one day be his, and trades against the old man, whose only aim is to lay up wealth for his son.E Every day at four clock, leaning against saparticalar corner on 'chsnge, stands the elder merchant, his hands deeply sunk into his dog cared pockets. Ayoung man approaches and they, exchange quiet, careless nod '>.2
 
 date 2'ostdr4E 4GE 1-I 5za ssf
 What security ? as old John.
 Turkish IA es.
 aAny, names? Sa@-@
 Ny own only, it is private matter, and has nothing to do with our house, replied the young man. | Twill give four per cent
 should want more than that as money goes-say four and three-eighths.'
 The brokers only ask four and half, re. plies the young map.
 Then give it. And they separate with au indifferent nod. That was the father and son.
 Every Sunday young John and his wife dine at sRussel square, in the same house where old [ Oakehart has lived for thirty years. His name has been cleaned out of the brass plate on the door. This house young John looks upon, and speaks of as his home All the associa- tions of his childhood are there-eyerv object isesacred to his eyes, from his own picture, talk en at four years old, with it's chubby face and fat legs, to the smoke dried print of General Abercrombie. They form the architecture of the temple of his heart-his home. After din- ner the ladies have retired. The crimson cur talns are comfortably closed. The cracking fire gows with satisfaction, and old John push es the bottle across to his son; if old John has weakness, it for twaney port.
 Jack, my boy, what do you want with twelve hundred pounds Well, sir says young Jshn, there is piece of ground next to my villa at Bripton, and they threaten to build up- on tiff so, they will spoil our view Emily, (his wife, has often begged me to buy it, and enclose it in our little garden. Next Wednes- day is her birth day, and wish to gratify her with surprise; but have reconsidered the matter-.1 ought not to afford it-so I have given it up' .4 f.+.>'' tI.
 Quite right responded the old man. It would have been piece of extravagance'-- the subject drops.
 Al 7Ev1t wOtanesday being Emily's birthday, the old couple dine with the young folks. Just before dinner, old John takes his daughter-in- law aside, and placing in her hands a parch- ment-it is the little plot of ground she covet. He stops her thanks with kiss and hurries away. Ere the ladies retire, Emily finds time to whisper the secret to her husband And the father and son are alone. Watch the old mans fixed on the fire, for he has detected his piece of atfectionate treachery, and is almost ashamed ot hls act, because he does not know how to receive his sons thanks. For few moments adeep, gentle feeling brcods upon the young mans heart-he has no words-t is prayer ssylabled in emotions that make his lips trem- ble; he lays his hand upon his fathers arm, and their eyes meet. .
 Tut, Jack, sir! pooh sir, it must all come to you some day-God bless you, my dear boy. and make you as happy at my age as am now. , In t silence the souls of those men embrace.- butwho is that seraph that gathers them be- neat meath her outsp' cad angel wings have seen her at the fireside Auttering like a dove from bosom to bosom, have seen her linking dis 'tant hearts, parted by the whole world-she is the good genius of the Anglo-Saxon family and her name is home.