Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1875-08-12
CONTINUED from first pase,l

Continued from first pase,l
ouire. that was able 10 reflect calmly or
nv sudden and mysterious summons.
had almost forgotten my quondam school
fellow. inasmuch as nothing ever served
to call him to mind except, perhaps, an ole
cricket-bat he had pressed upon me in day!
of yore, and which never now handle
At first, when used to look out for the
letters that never came, / pictured him az
good type OF the insincerity ofthis world
but he, s,of all people. perhaps. had least
entered my thoughts. But now. as my
mind dwelt on the strong and hearty young
fellow whom / had once so intimately
known, the memories of old days flooded
upon me. Again / felt myself at schooi !;
again seemed to hear young Vernons
cheerful voice and felt glow OF iriendly
exultation thrill through rue as he drove
hard to the off, for a skier in an all mpor-
tant match again heard his hearty greet
ing, and felt the hard squeeze OF his hand
with which we always met again at school
and now the tears started to my eyes, and
all nv old affection for him leaped up
ND again within my heart. Never seemed
a train to 60 more slowly, but at last there
we, were face to face. ] don't know what
Harry felt, but / felt as though would. If
could, have given all the world. and
gone forth a beggar, to have seen him
then in as former days, when he could al
way, either in boxing or wrestling. lay
me on my back. But now-his fine form
wasted away, his features pinched, anu
limbs shrunk-he seemed as helpless as
baby. He started up in bed as soon as he
perceived me at the door, but sinking back
again with weakness, he exclaimed:
Thank God thank God knew you
would come; you are my old chum still.
Our emotion prevented more for the pres
ent. All through that summers evening
| sat by his bedside, and we talked about
many things, although every now and
then his valet fondly attached to him would
make some excuse for entering the room,
to busy himself about his young masters
comfort, while he impressed upon US in
earnest, anxious tones the necessity oil
keeping quiet, and not talking much, "as
it's agen Doctors orders, ifyou please, sir.
l forebore, of course, from asking II he
apv particular reason for having sum-
moned me TO his bedside apart from the
excuse of old friendship and feeling OF
loneliness, now that he believed himself
doomed to die. / seemed intuitively to
feel that be wished much to disburden his
conscience of some sin, or ease his mind
by some avowal, before the grave closed
over him, and his secret perish with him,
for this must be terrible thought to the
diving, that words which they wish TO ut
ter are not spoken soon, it may easily be
too late. How sweet a comfort is 1t, to
have some one, If only one, TO whom one
NAV safely disclose the hidden trouble
that. perhaps unnecessarily after all,
fills the breast and pains the heart Here.
then lay my poor old chum; and his Sc
cret, if he had one, at once associated in
my mind with the wretched and changed
appearance which had noticed in him
the last time l had seen him, only year
after his leaving Penford. My conjecture
proved right. Believing that was the
only true friend he had in the world-his
mother, poor fellow. died in giving him
birth-he, after much hesitation, had writ
ten to me in the manner described; and
now, after apologizing in most touching
way for his weakness, as he called it. in
having given me so much trouble, he be-
gan TO enlighten me as to the true state OF
his sad case. His story, however, shall
give in my own words, as frequently, from
faintness and excitement combined, Har-
ry was forced to stop in his narration. All
his misfortunes occurred from that one
unlncky visit to his uncle in Westmore-
land at the close of his school career, and
which he pressed me to undertake with
him. As / have said before, would that l
had done so; might at least have pre-
vented some of the mischief. After spend
ing. then, month in town, he had, ac-
cordng to arrangement run down to
Waterthwaite for an indefinite period. Oh,
how during the half-year had he looked for
ward to this visit His uncle always re-
ceived him with open arms, and in lis I'M
cle's house he not only felt at home, but
after the murky air of London the pure,
fresh breezes oil the country infused fresh
life into his frame. But what at that time
did not know, there was a greater at
traction still. His uncle and aunt, like
some others who have no children Of their
own, had, about twelve years ago, adopt
ed and brought up the only child. daugh-
ter of widowed lady, who at the close of
her earthly career earnestly commended
her little darling, then in her sixth year.
TO the care of those friends she had best
loved, and trusted in her life. They not
only accepted, but accepted with joyful
pleasure, both the treasure committed to
their charge and the responsibility con-
nected with it. Here, then, was the great
or attraction. A young lady in her eigh.
teenth year, Maud Hamilton possessed in
an eminent degree all those personal at
fractions and virtues, adorned with which
woman has but to speak. and with man to
hear is to obey. The beauty of her face
and figure were but equalled by the beau
" of her temper and her mind. l will
not 90 further into detail; suffice it that
Harry thought her perfection, and ! al
ways thought Harry's judgment perfect.
Poor Harry. with his frank and hearty
manner. was not one to long conceal his
love, not that anything had openly as yet
been said, but guardians of a treasured
daughter are seldom blind In point of
fact, they had for some time past discussed
the question, and agreed that could they
see these two united, they would have no
anxiety about their darling's future when
they themselves had gone. Between Har-
ry and Maud. however, there was no anx-
iety, no misunderstanding, for Harry
knew that if he could once obtain his