The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1878-04-25


glance, and stopped. What was the
use? His life was wretched wreck
why should he intrude it into his broth
er's happy homeP
There seemed no place for him in
all the world-but the prison-cell which
he had just left. He looked at the dark
deep water rushing by, and made step
towards it. Then he looked again at the
boys. His heart was very sore. They
were Johns sons-dear, dear brother
John! One of them had look of his
mother in his eyes.
He would try once more, and he
went towards them-with prayer to
God in his heart.
"' Been fishing, boys?' trying to
speak in an oif-hand way. sCan l come
DOWN.
. "' Jail-birdi' muttered Bill.
Charley gripped his leg like vice,
and whispered, Hold your tongue!
Yes, sir, he said aloud, touching his cap,
we're after perch. Will you take seatP'
moving the basket aside.
Seventy-seven satdown. He could not
speak. The boys dropped their lines in
the water.
Presently he laid his hand on Char
ley's arm. 1t seemed as if he must caress
the boy, if but by a touch.
CSC What is you namc?'
"' Charley, sir; Charley Pardee.'
IS 1t was his own name! The blood
rushed violently to his heart.
"s Who-who were you named for,
Charleyp'
"' My uncle, sir. You've heard of
him, maybe?' coloring hotly. Il never
saw him, but my father says he was the
best man he ever knew, and the most
ill-used. Oh, here comes papa!'
'sThe man staggered to his feet and
stood trembling, not looking up.
"'Well, boys, what luckp' came in
Jacks old hearty voice. Then there
was terrible silence.
"Charley!"
"Jack had his arms about him. ooh,
Charley, is it youp Thank God, thank
God!' and he sobbed like child.
"The winter passed quietly. Charles
Pardee found his brothers house hap
py home, but he feared to go outside of
it. Public opinion held him as mur-
derer A few old friends came to him,
but he shrank from every strange face.
s'Now little Charley had habit of
taking some trifling gift to old Aunty
Stannix on his way to school. The old
woman was Grabbed and sour beyond
her won't, being i'll that winter, but the
boy persevered.
'sOne night he was reused out of bed
by his father.
"'Stannix is dying, and has sent for
you, my boy
s'sIt's showing, muttered Bill. She'll
live till morning. It's one of her impish
tricks, any how. I wouldn't 60 step,
Charley
'Charley thrust out one foot into the
nipping air and hesitated.
"'I'd better co. he said.
"When he reached the cabin with his
father, the old woman was very low.
s'sI want Charley Pardeey she NUT
tered, fumbling with her hands.
"'Here | am, aunty."
"'Yoh've bin good to me, sonny
better dan any body in dis wohld. I've
got somefn foh you. Whah's squire?
L lluSt say 10 1Oui o4uilC. asR
"'I am a magistrate, aunty, said the
doctor.
's'I wants to say, fohr de squire, dat
dis boys uncle, Charles Pardee, was as
innocent as baby of George Tygart's
murder. 1t was my son, Oaf, as done it
-Oaf, de barber in Dover.
+" Il KEEP it quiet COS l didn't want
Oaf hung. But when he was shot in dat
fight las summer, an knowed he'd got
to die, l made him write paper bout
it, an swar to it befohr witnesses.
'Hyah's de paper. glib it to yoh,
Charley, kase you've bin good to me. 1
don't want folks castin' up to you dat
yolf's got a uncle what's grazed de
gallows. Yoh've bin good to me,
Charley
"Before morning she was dead
Grandfather" said the boys, after
a pause sis that a true storyP''
The old mans eyes grew dim.
"Boys," he said, s'I was Seventy
seven!' !'-Youth's Companion.