Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1871-11-10
She Stoops to Conquer.
Written for the New York Times.
BY WALTER GARDINER.


Written for the New York Times.
Warren Hereford was not man to be
trihed with nor opposed. His son Egg
Der, knew that, and yet he defed him
to his very teeth, dared him to carry his
threat into execution, and disown him.
There was the old blood boiling in the
boys veins. The same blood that flush
ed his parents face, the same blood that
had rent and parted the Hereford fam
lily and raised lasting monuments of
sorrow and regret. Noble they called
it, and for proof they pointed to a long
list OF rash actions i'll home and field.
and now it was blazing again, blazing
with all its fierceness between the last
two OF the name. White haired Philip,
the old retainer, whose memory covered
the time from his present masters's ba-
byhood, stood near the door pretending
to brush the books in the case on the
left, but he knew not whether they
were kettles or glass globes, he heard
nothing but the angry words and oc-
casional imprecations which seemed to
portend the final downfall of the house.
At intervals he glanced silly over his
shoulder and trembled as he saw his
masters black looks, and then swung
his brush again with renewed energy as
ii fearful of being caught listening.
The old man was on his feet now,
his strong, compact frame quivering
with rage, and his right hand raised
above his head. The son stood few
steps away, his left hand clinched, and
his right drawn back, while his eyes
cleaned bright with passion. Old Phil
ip turned again, and gazed upon them
apprehensively, tremulously. There was
moment of ominOus silence. 1t was
broken by the fathers fist crashing down
upon the desk
!" Go then, you ungrateful hound, go,
and never let me see you again. If you
come-mark me-if you dare to come
within foot of my land, I'll COW hide
you on the village green Now you hear
it, and never yet broke my word. Go
work, beg, starve, steal murder, but
neverlook to Warren Hereford for help!
Go, Curse--"
{. Oh no, no; say not that, my mas
ter" cried Philip, catching him by the
p arm and gazing pleadingly into his face.
"The lads your own, your only one,
you know. Come, make it up"
" Silence, old man! I'll not hear
another word. " Unhand mel"
"Yes-neither coax nor hold him.
tdTt iOl lOI ihtlldNNH olllNC lllS lONC
has become so despicable."
"Hush! Oh, be quiet, my young mas
ter. Wait-think--let your heart come
up-don't speak now. This mnst not
be-"
Perhaps the deep, earnest tones of the
old servants voice, and the sight of his
sad, panied face in its wreath OF snow
white hair, would have aroused the bet
ter qualities of Egbert's nature; but un-
fortunately, he saw his fathers lips curl
and his eyes flash with scorn. 1t was
enough.
"No more, Philip, not breath. I'll
not stoop to parley. I'll neither beg,
steal, murder, nor ask aid from one too
baselv unnatural to be father; no, not
il eat my own flesh and drink my own
blood. There's your answer, Warren
Hereford; now remember it alive-re-
. member it dead"
He turned and strobe from the room.
Philip listened to his steps from the hall
to the corridor, from the corridor to the
lawn and then, as they gradually re-
ceded, he dropped upon chair and
buried his face in his hands. Warren
Hereford sat erect, his gray eyes full OF
fiery sternness, his fiorid countenance
harshly resolute. Anon the old ser
wants body trembled, and he wept-
wept in that low, piteons way which
distinguishes the emotion of the feeble
and the aged.
"Stop your whining, you old magpie
stop, | say"
"But, my master, listen-listen just {
minute Think of the dear lad, anC
how brave and good he is; think how
his mother feel"
,'S'death! Shall kick you out doors
or will you be silent?"
"Do what you like, my MASTER" re
piled Philip, humbly, and with toucl
of despair in the tone. "I'm DID, anC
not long for this world at the best, anC
it don't matter what becomes of me,
served your father when / was but ;
boy, and / remember the day you wer
born, and what a rejoicing there was
and | remember the day you were man
ried, and how the old folks looked ol
with wet eyes; and | remember tn
old folks couldn't speak to him. The
were up there! I've seen it all. Pv
served your own flesh and blood {
three generations, and now it's all owe
and they're all gone. Yes master, yo
may kick the old man who carried go
in his arms when you were a helple'
babe; you may kick him as much asyo
wishp And tears coursed down til
wrinkled cheeks and dropped from III
white beard.
"Philip, leave this room. You hay
talked all you wished; now, never ref
10 this again-never Obey mel"
The tone was stern, but not unkin
and the speakers face had grown whit
His will was not shaken, however.
4 was so to write, passing through Il
process OF crystilizatiOn, which wou
harden it for all time. Philip incin,
III his head and moved silently from Il
door. As he entered the lower hall d
servants gathered about him, and ask
many anxious questions, especially I
nurse who had taken care of EgbC
when baby, and performed the Ii
earthly service for his sanity moth
1t was hard for the old man TO tell Il
woman of the Punishment OF her p
and harder for him to hear her moa
and see her weep. Choking down
grief, he went out into the park a
dropped upon bench. The place, OF
made beautiful by the presence of
young master, now seemed pris
yard, dreary, cheerless, ,srepulsive! i
spring days crept away, and with
II. coming OF Summer gay party OF lad
arrived at Hereford Lodge. So
house was to be open again, &
merriment was to live within
sombre walls. The servants sh'
their heads, and Phillip wondered If
master was really heartless Dim
and hunts, and Egbert a wanderer.
was dreadful. He went about his s
pie duties, however, with his usual G.
hut never smoke nor lifted his gT