Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1865-11-04
John Oasheart and Son.

join Oakneart ana Son.
John Oakheart and Son, are Baltic
merchants. Young John entered hi:
fathers Office as clerk atsixty pounds
q year, of which he paid his mother
forty for his board, lodging and wash,
ing, and clothed himself with the odd
twenty. Do not imagine that Mr.. Oak
hearts establishment required this as
sistance. The old gentleman desired to
make his son feel independent-he was
man, he earned his own livelihood, and
he should feel that he supported him.
self. AT twenty-five years of age young
Oakheart marries,' receiving with phis
wife moderate sum of money. He
wants to purchase a share in his fathers
business; they cannot come to terms.
Young John can make better bargain
with rival house in the trade. The
old man hesitates; he likes the sound
of John Oakheart & Son; but business
is business. Had his son married q
penniless girl, the father would have
given him what he now refuses to sell
but now, business is business, and as a
calculation, he can't do it. So young
John becomes chief partner in a rival
| firm to that which must one day be
his, and trades against the old man,
whose only aim is to lay up wealth for
his son. Every day, at four o'clock,
leaning against particular corner on
change, stands the elder merchant, his
hands deeply sunk into his dog-eared
pockets. A young man approaches;
they exchange a quiet, careless nod:
Feel inclined to discount for 1900 at
long date?"
"What security?" asks old John.
'Turkish, '54?'
'EAny uames?"
"My own only; it is private matter,
and has nothing to do with our house, :"
replied the younger man. Il viii give
4 per cent"
II should want more than that, as
money goes-sly 5-S.
"The brokers only ask IL" replies
the young man.
''Then give it." And they separate
with an Indifferent nod. That was the
father and son.
Every Sunday young John and his
wife dine at Russell square. in the same
house where old Oakheart has lived for
thirty years. His name has been clean
ed out of the brass plate on the door,
The house young John looks upon, and
speaks of as his home. Ali the associa-
tions of his childhood are there-every
piece OF furniture is an old friend, every
object is sacred to his eyes, from his
own picture, taken az four years old,
with ats chubby face and fat legs, to
the smoke-dried print of Gen. Aber-
crombie. They form the architecture
of that temple of his heart-his home.
After dinner the ladies have retired.
The crimson curtains are comfortably
closed. The cracking fire CLOVIS with
satisfaction, and old John pushes the
bottle across to his son; if old John has
weakness it is for tawney port.
Jack, my boy, said he, ..what do
you want with twelve hundred ponnds?"
''Well, sir, replies young John, ''there
is piece of ground near my villa at
Brixton, and they threaten to build up
on tiff SO, they will spoil our view,
Emily" meaning his wife, ''has often
begged me to buy it, and enclose it in
our garden. Next Wednesday is her
birthday, and L wish to crafty her with
a surprise; bnt / have reconsidered the
matter ought not to afford it Il have
given it up"
"Qnite right, Jack" responded the
old man. '.It would have been a piece
of extravaganza and the subject drops.
Next Wednesday being Emily's birth
day, the old couple dine with the young
folks. just before dinner, old John
takes his daughter-in-la aside, and
places IN her hands a parchment-itis
the little plot of ground she coveted.
He stops her thanks with kiss, and
hurnes away. Ere the ladies retire,
Emily finds time to whisper the secret
to her husband. And the father and
son are alone. Watching the old mans
eye fixed on the fire, for he has detect
Ell his piece of affectionate treachery,
aud is almost ashamed of his act, be- |
canse he does not know how to receive |
his sons thanks. For a few moments |
a deep, gentle feeling broods upon the |
young mans heart, he has no words
it is prayer syllabled in emotions that |
make his lips tremble; he lays his hand |
lpon his fathers arm, and their eyes |
meet.
Tut, Jack, sir pooh sir, it must |
all come to you some day-God bless
you, my boy, and make you as happy |
1T my age as / an now" In silence |
the souls OF those men embrace. But |
who is that seraph that gathers them
beneath her outspread angel wings p
have seen her at the Preside futtering |
ike dove from bosom to bosom. l |
have seen her linking distant hearts,
parted by the whole world-she is the |
good genius of the Anglo Saxon family |
and her name is Home.-DiOn Boa'- |
;icduH