The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1875-03-04
nOhs Simon, destroy that will.n

clung 10 the girl detested and secret
ly married her, told him he was my
son no longer" He has lived for
three years away from me."'ie -. e'
Starving upon a clerks salary, when
he had passed the first twenty-five
years of his life in luxury" l.'a "
ale made his choice" -fi p
"I remember Matte said, in a
dreamy voice, as if she had forgotten
her listener, "ihe day Edward was
born. Poor Mary lay SO ill we feared
she must die, while others were busy
around her bed, the wee babe was
brought to me. He was like you,
Simon, with great dark eyes, aud a
broad brow, and yet he had Mary's
mouth, SO sensitive and tender, quiv.
ering with emotion. l remember,
when he was week old, l had him
in the nursery when you came in, stag
gering like man under heavy bur-
den, till yoi fell on your knees beside
me, 10 sob t'--
"God has taken Mary, but He has
left my boy! Thank God for my boy y
A long, quivering sigh broke from
the invalid's lips. 'H "i l'4
II can see him as he was at three
years old, with his brown curls shin
ing like satin, falling over his velvet
o1ox -. 90 g. ,,o,,,,l oI al a with houl 4 h
and his eyes full of frank
and bright intellect. He was not quite
four when he had scarlet sever. How
many nights you walked with him up
and down in your arms, when the
fcver would not let him sleep, how
many days you sat beside him calming
the delirious fancies of his baby brain
till the day that life-giving sleep came
to restore him, and again you thanked
God for the boys life"
"Mattie you torture me! 1 cannot
bear this !" the sick man murmured
hoarsely.
81 was at my window one morning.
Matte said, still in the same even
"when carriage dashed up
the road with pair Of ofrunaway horses.
The reins were in the road, and there
was no control over the terrified ami
mails who dashed forward, the carriage
swa wing heavily from side to side,
every moment to be dash
ed to pieces. Inside, man tried
vainly to open the doors. The driver
lay upon the road behind, thrown
from his seat, half Intoxicated, and
badly injured. While 1 looked, para
lyzed with horror, mere boy, not
eighteen, from my door into the road,
threw himself before the horses, bat
tied with them as they reared and
plunged, threatening every moment
to dash him to pieces, and held them
till other aid came. Men ran to help,
and the STRIPPING ran to the door, when
the horses were quiet, to release his
father. The blood streamed from a
great cash in his face, but he never
needed il when his father held him in
close embrace, thanking him for his
Iife.-Again, Simon, Iheard you thank
God, that in saving your life your boy
had not lost his own"
There was a deep silence in the
room as Matte spoke the last words.
Simon Hartwright's face was hidden.
but his hands trembled, covering the
agitated features. Matte took from
her pocket a letter and read:
"MY DEAR AUNT MATTE Lucy is
about again, and our boy is doing ane-
ly. He is a thorough cartwright,
with my dear fathers eyes, and we
have christeued him Simon. 1 wrote
to my father, and again my letter came
back unopened. How can l ever sof-
ten his heart toward me, if he will
not read my letters? weary for his
l am doing well here,
and my salary will allow some little
comforts for Lucy and the boy besides
mere necessaries, but L long to hear
my father say, Ned, forgive YOU
"If you knew Lucy here; if you
could see how patiently she bears ev-
cry privation how lovingly she is
when we are SO poor; how careful she
is never to reproach me for what she
has suffered. you would not wonder
that cannot say, 'Father, l am sorry
| married her!' 1 am not; never can
be sorry for that, yet I do sorrow over
my fathers anger. .....s.
"Will you not see him for me, and
plead for me? Tell him 1 care moth
ing for his wealth; we can live happi-
ly in our humble fashion, but long un-
to hear his voice in forgive
ness, to clasp his hand, to know he
loved me again Plead for me, Aunt
Matte. He must be lonely, and my
heart aches for his loneliness.
'Lucy sends love, and this tiny lock
of young Simon's hair. ''NED."
"Simon!'
Mattie's voice was solemn in it's
earnest tone of pleading.
"Simon, you will not die without
your boy, Mary's boy, who
saved your life at the risk Of his own,
who loves you so truly 2"
Simon cartwright lifted his face
from the cushions where it had been
Upon the wasted check the
tears stood like great diamonds, and
the voice was broken and hoarse that
said:
'Send for my boy, Mattie!'
Gladly the message was written and
sent to the telegraph office:
"To MIR. EDWARD HARTwRIGHT,
No. 37-street, New York:
"Your father wishes to see you. He
is dangerously ill. Come at once.