Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1868-10-02

want Harry to profit by the growth of this
place. To this end, / have drawn up a
lease, at merely nominal rent, of the
whole property (Which, you are aware,
| includes three lots), to run absolutely ten
years, and terminable after that period, by
| giving six months notice to the leasee.
This paper needs only my signature and
the filling in OF the name of the leasee to
| complete it. If you will examine it, you
| will find it in due form. Will you accept
the trust (for so / regard it), and suffer me
to insert your name as lessee?"
az will, Mr.. Barnes. do not desire to
examine it," as the other offered him the
| paper. I" I am content with what you say.
Insert my name at once, if it be your
wish"
| "Thank you. There are no instructions
| I wish to give, except that, as the rent falls
due, you will forward it, subject to my or
der, to the Bank of the State of Missouri,
| at st. Louis but, under no circumstances,
either seek yourself, or, so far as you may
| be able to prevent, suffer any one else to
seek to discover my whereabouts. In good
time will make it known to you. Have
your promise ?"
"You have"
"Let us then execute this paper at once.
forgot to say, that would be glad if you
would dispose of all my household goods,
by auction or otherwise, as you may elect,
remitting the proceeds as before. My bust
ness affairs I have already placed in pro-
cess of adjustment. l shall start tomorrow
| morning"
"And your SOM"
"Goes with me-"
The Chicago of 1949 had given place to
| the Chicago of 1867. Nineteen years had
wrought changes as radical and as marvel
| GUS as those of the kaleidoscope. Instead
| of provincial town, there was a consid-
erable city, and city more full of energy
and vitality, as we'll as of "brag," than any
| city in the world Planking had given
way to the pervasiye "NicOlson long
| rows of wooden "shanties' had yielded
| up their standing room to costly stone and
iron; bridge after bridge had spanned the
| sluggish river; the stream itself, from a
mere muddy prairie-creek, had become a
reeking sewer, to get rid of whose f9tid
breath was the subject of anxious consid-
Grafton to more than two hundred thou
| sand people.
| The shadows of September evening
were slowly closing in, yet the roar of the
| busy city did not seem to lull. At inter
| walls the horse cars went rumbling by,
| packed full and running over with tired
| men seeking their comfortable homes far
out in what had been commons and corn
| fields nineteen years before, and the tide
| of hurrying pedestrians which flowed
along the broad sidewalks seemed to know
| no ebb.
Near one of the busiest points of the
city, little fancy store" in modest
wooden house nestled shyly between two
| pretentious marble-fronts" 1t bore on
| it's face the traces of former ERA, and it
was evident that its successor would be of
signally different style. Inside, a young
girl was daintily putting in order some
laces tumbled by a just-departed visitor,
| and slowly and tenderly manipulating the
soft meshes with all the feminine fondness
for the delicate web. Drawing a piece of
the foamy fabric about her white neck, she
turned to little mirror behind the mar
row counter, and stood dreamily contem-
plating its effect. She was startled by q
quick tread and rough but manly and
pleasant voice:
"Pardon me, miss, but can you tell me
if these streets bear the same names they
did twenty years ago?"
"Pm sure I don't know, sir" she replied,
with little pout and blush, as she busily
folded up the lace with half glance at the
amused face of the questioner AUNT
Mary can tell you all about it, though !;
and if you'll wait moment, I'll call her." :"
She fitted away through door at the
rear of the shop, but returned almost i'm
mediately, followed by much older lady,
clothed in sober black, with a grave but
pleasant face, on which were drawn the
unmistakable lines of sorrow and tears,
but whose expression plainly showed that
these had not narrowed the heart nor en-
bittered the spirit.
The young man repeated his question.
"Yes, sir; the names are the same, but
their features have changed in that time
But surely you are too young to have
known them so long ago?"
Aunt Mary slowly drew nearer to the
young stranger, her eyes fixed almost wist-
fully on the fresh, ruddy face, while the
color which yet fingered in her rounded
cheek came and went titfully, and an un-
wonted light moistened and trembled in
the habitually pensive eye.
EYES," he replied, 81 knew them, but
my recollection of them is very dim and
faint. 1 am asking for my father, who
was very familiar with them then, and is
now looking about just outside there to
see if he can identify some property he
once owned in this vicinity"
"Please ask him to step inside. Per-
haps can give him some Information.
have been familiar with this part of the
city for many years"
A paleness crept over the kindly face
as she watched the young mans elastic,
swinging tread, as he passed out to the
street. "How like his walkr came
through her lips, more like the ghost of a
forgotten whisper than articulate sounds
A book, which she had been reading, and
was still holding, was laid noiselessly
down, and, with hands clasped closely
against her bosom, she stood fxedly
watching the door.
Presently father and son entered togeth-
er. Californian suns and Coloradan winds
had Drowned the once thin and colorless
cheek; the dark locks had changed to
iron-gray, and the wild, free life of the re-
mote West, the healthful toll and exposure
of the mine and the camp, the CHEEKY COM
panionship of forest and river and noun
tain, while keeping the spirit fresh and free
from moody repining, had, even at that
period of life. broadened and strengthened
the frame. But all these changes could not
conceal the individuality, and Robert
Barnes was as unmistakable In this hale
and deliberate mountaineer, as in the hur-
rying denizen of the city of nineteen years
before
"This is my father, ma'am-Robert
Barnes"
"Yes, madam; Harry tells me you are
| quite"