The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1875-08-25

vide her less expensive dainties but
but" and the tears fell fast-"I
cannot"
"Ah, that's the fault, you see, of
having no money. Good evening""
He resumed his work, and the girl,
scarcely cheered by this little episode,
went, with heavy heart, up stairs.
Mrs. Weston was so i'll, she was lay.
ing on her bed. The candle was in
her room and in the parlor CRATE burnt
few sparks of fire, over which was a
saucepan. On the table was a tea
tray, and a portion of previous days
loaf. 1t was such a depressing well
come home after the weary day, that
with difficulty the poor girl could con-
troll her emotien.
"Is that you, Clare?" inquired the
widows feeble voice.
eyes, mother"
"Come to me, my child"
Clare pressed her white hands to
her bosom, made an effort and passed
into the bedroom. But the mother 8
first words beat down all her noble
souled heroic selfrepression.
"Clare, dear, you had better success
to.dayY
The girl dropped to a chair, and
burying her face on the coverlet, burst
into paroxysm of weeping.
"No, mother" she so6bed, hysteri-
cally. "It's the same old, old story /;
l can get nothing. What shall we do =?
l feel heart broken"
"Clare, Clare, my child" CALCULATED
the mother, fondly embra cling her, "do
not you give wayl What, indeed, will
become Of us thenf My brave, brave
girl, do not weep thus!"
"Pray let me, mother; l shall be
better after it?"
| She apparently, was right, for at the
end Of few moments she looked up
calmer; her tears ceased.
"There," she smiled II am better
now. It's good to give way at times,
you know. At least one can't help it,
and our lot is so hard but we shall
get used to it."
"Hard! 1t breaks my heart to con-
template it, when l think of you,
Clare. What different future did ]
and your father intend you, love! But
who could imagine that such vii
lain as John Bulge ever existed ?"
"Ah, me-ah, me! to look round at
this place, and remember the pleasant
home which once was ours Now, we
are alone, with not single friend in
the world"
"Not one Oh, yes, mother, believe
me. one cried the girl, quickly. "He
-Gilbert-will be true-trust me, he
will"
"why, then, Clare, has he not writ
ten ?" te.e ...- -Fs
II do not know--I cannot tell" ex-
claimed the daughter, piteously; "but,
oh, pray, pray, mother, do not take
that hope from me! Let me believe in
Gilbert. 1t is my only support in this
bitter miseryv
The widow touched with pleading
countenance, was about to reply, when
interrupting herself, she said, "Clare, |
hear some one in the parlor. See who
it is, dear"
The girl obeyed, and stared at the
wierd scene she beheld.
Seated before the CRATE, on a three
legged stool, was the eobbler, yet in
the leathern apron and cap. On his
knees was a bellows, which he was
working with consummate skill, evil
IDENTIFY master -sf the art, sending
the Goals into bright blazes that threw
flashes of lurid color over the Quaint
figure and the room.
Upon hearing Clare, be turned, al
most with a snarl.
"How do you expect to boil a sauce
pan with such a fire as this ?" he
growled. "Never was halter as mad
as you, I'm certain. Now look at that /?
amt it pictureY
Clare did look, and saw that not on
ly were the Goals increased, but that
they were not from their own store.
at was quite cheering" she man
aged to say, "but-I fear, Mr.. Cray
shaw. you have been robbing your
self"
"RObbing myself?-me mot bit.
Tn a miser. Didn't you hear the
boys call me so--Jerry, the Miser ?"
he snapped. Il am miser, and I'm
proud Of It. Some men are called
painter and poet. Well, I'm called
cobbler and miser."
Really" said Clare, little amused,
little frightened, looking at the glow.
ing Goals; 81 should have scarcely
thought So" H.a
THAT shows your ignorance" re-
sponded Jerry. Cant you see my
calculation, it's cheaper to keep up
one good fire than two small ones So
I'm going to sit by yours. Also, club