The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1866-08-25

MANY times sought to approach him-rnany times
implored his forgiveness-but he had turned
from his daughter always in anger, and from
her husband in scorn. A whole year had elaps-
ed without intelligence, and now word had come
that Emily was dying. But where was she
PITY and forgiveness were in his heart. but he
could not go to her.
It was all in vain that Mr.. Harwood set in
quires on foot Immediately on going out. The
day advanced to noon, and still no clue was
found. At three o'clock the afternoon paper
came in. As he opened it, his eyes fell upon the
deaths. The first notice was in these brief
words 80 Emily, wife of Henry Stanton, aged
twenty-three.' This, and no more Mr.. Har-
wood did not start, nor groan, nor, indeed, make
any external sign. But barbed arrow struck
through his heart, fixing itself beyond any sur
geon's skill to extract He was still holding the
paper in his hand, when woman, having the
appearance of an Irish domestic, entered, and
gave him letter. She looked at him in
strange, repulsive manner
What is it p he asked.
Read it = she answered. abruptly.
He tore open the soiled envelope and read
Your daughter lies dead at my house, No
Elm street Will you have her buried, or shall
it be done by the Guardians of the Poor?
MARY WoRMLEY.'
Is there any answer sirP Mr.. Harwood sat
so long, with his eyes on the letter. that the SER
want grew impatient. Her question brought
him heavily upon the sharp pricks.
Where is Elm street,? he asked. His near
est friend would scarcely have recognized his
voice. The question was answered.
will see to it, he said, and the servant
went away.
The hands of plying strangers had laid the
limbs decently, and clothed in scant burial gar
ments the wasted, but still beautiful remains of
Emily, wife of Henry Stanton. The room in
which the body lay was in the third story of a
poorly kept boarding house. The furniture con-
sisted of low iron beadstead and thin mattress
two old chairs, once in some kitchen a small
square red pine table which served both as table
and wash-hand stand and single strip of rag
carpet on the floor. The walls were dingy and
bare. Through one small, uncurtained window
with two or three of the panes broken and
patched with paper, came the insufficient light.
The waxen face of of the dead was uncovered
Bending over it was the young husband his face
almost as pale and wasted as that upon which
his eyes were fixed. Some one entered the room,
but the mourner neither turned nor moved. A
| mans feet crossed the floor man stood beside
him q mans voice sobbed out in a sudden par
oxysm of grief Then he started, rose quickly,
and looked upon the intruder and, as he look
ed his weak, quivering mouth grew firm and
strong-fire flashed in his dull eyes-hot hood
stained his cheeks. He drew himself up in a
wild fervor of angry rejection-of bitter scorn
{ It's too late sir 7 he said-not loudly, but
| in a cutting undertone. She asked for you
last night. And, for her sake, put away pride
stihed the adherence felt for one so meanly
cruel and went to see You with her message,
which you refused to hear. When | came back
with your savage answer-n0 Christian could
have said it-she cried out with such bitter
cry, that knew her heart had broken under this
last cruel stroke from her fathers hand. You
might have saved her, but you did not. Nay,
worse, you pushed her over the precipice on the
/ edge of which she hung trembling, with arms
stretched to you for succorl ! If my mother had
| lived Oh how often she said that. If my
mother had lived The speakers voice chang
| ed to mournful cadence. When mother was
| dying, heard her say to father Treat my child
| tenderly. Don't be hard with her in anything.
He's forgotten all that Sir, it was murder
The blood of that dead daughter is on your gar
ments, never to be washed out. | say it, because
[ know She loved you, though you cast her
off and for three long years her cry has been
toward you. At last you have listened to her
cry at last you have come. But she is dead ;
killed by her fathers hand And now, sir, will
you go away? You can't do her any good. =
The young man softened his voice. Your
presence hurts and angers me- Leave me with
my dead. It won't be long. loved her, ii
you didn't would have gven-my life to save
her nay have given my life in the vain effort.
His manner changed. He was like one who
wandered in his mind. Nay, he did wander,
soon loosing himself, and Mr.. Harwood was
alone with his dead child, and her crazed hus-
| band
He had never meant that it should come to this
Oh, no i! Anger, PRIDE and a false judgment oi
the case had hardened him towards the offenders
| He would punish them long and severely and
| he had heightened the period, because an innate
| love of power, which is always cruel, had found
| delight in punishment Many times he had re-
| Tented but always the cruel elements in his ma
| ture prevailed over the tender, and he held hl'
child away from him, that she might suffer tol
| her sin against him little longer. All advanc-
| es from her and her husband inspired him will
| sudden anger. He meant to abide his own time
and to be gracious without solicitation. But he
had waited too long. To-day is ours for gooC
acts, for kindness, for forgiveness. It is danger
Gus to trust in tomorrow. They are snre tC
| disappoint US.
what availed ii that Mr. Harwood, stricken
with sorrow, with shame, and repentance, tool
home the body of his dead child had it clothed
| in finest linen, placed in a silver-mounted coffin
and buried in the family vault beside the moth
er'S mouldering ashes What availed II that ht
ministered, in all possible ways, TO the piysica
comfort of poor wrecked being, whose mind
thrown from its balance by the closing tragedy
of his brief welded life, never regained its equi,
pose He had made for himself haunting and
accusing memories that would not sleep: lie
had shadowed every day Of his future life
He had cursed himself with curse that no exor.
cism could remove. Blind with passion anc
pride, he had trampled on quivering hearts
crushing the life out in pain and sorrow witt
every stroke of his iron heel and now that hi
repented of this wrong, it was too late
va The following paragraph is capital illus
traton of the importance of punctuation. There