The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1878-03-16

things to help We, marin, as sure's YOU'RE
| born, " he answered to the half question.
- DO so much want to have Deacon Ellery
make friends with his SON."
! simple confidence
:" Yes, he has, Jim; he has indeed; but they
| haven't spoken for years.
'Sho now! that are can't be; guess Won
| dreamed it, Miss Annie. Why, Deacon Ell
lery's good man; Christian cretur as ever
was; can't be somebody's ben IA
"Annie" called Mrs. Palmer, evidently in
haste; and jim drove off, feeling in an uncer-
tain sort OF way as if he hadn't heard or ought
not to have heard such things about his best
friend, even from the adorable Annie. But
the thing worked in his feeble head and as
fools rush in where angels fear to tread, ;,
and sometimes do good service by their follv
so jim plunged into the middle of things the
very next morning, as he was brushing the
shoes for church-going, while the deacon read
over his Sunday-school lesson by the window.
Say you hain't got any son, have We, dea-
con?n
The old man looked at jim with an air of
terror as well as WONDER and turned pale as
| ashes.
eyes, I've got son. he answered mechan-
icaly.
Why, hain't never seen him" exclaimed
! Jim, as If still he scarcely believed.
He has not been at home for five long
| years, Jim: he is prodigal who fleth him
self with husks," solemnly replied the deacon,
who had somewhat recovered his poise.
| Wei, why don't We fetch him home md
| give him suthin' to eat!n
The deacon stared at Jim, but could not an
swer.
! whats he ben an done, anyway! ~ went on
| the simple torturer. Killed anybody stole
anythin'?''
"No no! MOI" calculated the deacon, rag
| ing inwardly between the persistency of his
1 fIsvas
| to him the reason of Sans Punishment. Per-
| haps, too, the reason why this was so difficult
to explain began to wrestle with his con-
science
well, I'm dretful sorry" said Jim musing-
| ly. MY daddy, now, was a poor cretur,
/ drunk mostly; but he was real good to me.
| I'm glad he want no better; mebbe shouldn't
| ha ben good enough for him to speak to, too
The deacon could have struck Jim, who
went on brushing shoes as seriously as if they
were an algebraic problem.
"Well, jim, the fact is, he didn't believe in
| the Bible, Sam didn't"
Poor cretur! poor cretur!n said Jim, warm
| ing into sympathy at once. "Well, deacon,
We know what We was readin' about to me
| last Sabba' day; tryin' to drive inter my
head, We know!-takes a lot o. time to drive
anythin' into FOOLS head but | can't disre-
member that, twas so kinder marciful like,
| bout how the good Lord forgiv' them fellers
know what they was a dom. Mebbe your
Sam don't; what eff We was to take him to
Sabba' school, an larn him better! You tell
me where he stays, an I'll go fetch him."
| jim was in eager earnest; his eyes were lit
with unusual rays and one hand held out awk-
wardly toward the deacon; but the old man
could not answer; he stumbled away to the
bedroom and fell on his knees by the bedside
What he said to God is not for us to know;
what he did, was to write a letter that very
night to Samuel, and beg him to come home
to his old father and his loving mother.
As for jim, the matter passed clear out of
his oddly-made-up mind; he had satisfied him
self the deacon had a son, the immediate curl
osity was at rest. He did not see Annie Palm
er the next day; in fact, SO inconsequent
were his mental processes when under eX-
ternal excitement he did not once think of
what she said to him; but only missed her as
he would miss sunshine, or fire, or food; for
Annie had become necessity to the largest
share of his nature-hS heart.
week after Mrs Ellery came out into the
garden where Jim was wedding.
"OJim,n said she, "my dear son, my Sam,
is coming home tO-morrer; and gon' to be
married"
''Wen, I'm glad ont" cheerfully answered
jim
Eyes he's comm home to-morrer.
hain't sot eyes on him this five years an more;
and Thursday he's goin' to be married to
Annie Palmer
so Lord" said Jim, with gasp; but the
good woman did not hear him; heart and head
were full of Sam, and she turned and went
into the house.
Jim did not come in after milking that
night; the deacon found him curled down in
corner of the barn.
81 guess I'm sick" was all he said, but
somehow he reminded the deacon of an old
dog he once had, that was MORALLY wounded
by accident, and stole into that very corner to
die. There was the same hurt, protesting
look in both pairs of eyes.
They took him into his own room, and in a
day or two he was better, but never well
again; he lived few months, feeble patient,
smiling, and doing all he could. The only
queer thing about him was that he never
asked to see Annie Palmer, or ever spoke her
name again Sam went upstairs to see him,
but jim was asleep, he said, and he wouldn't
waken him. Perhaps Deacon Ellery being a
reticent man, never told how much he owed
to the poor fool. Annie forgot him too, prob
ably; but what can you expect of a happy
young bride? When winter came Jim went.
DR.. Green said the cold was too great for
such low state of vitality; perhaps it was
However that might be, one starry and SPLEEN
did night quick flash sprang into the Ian
guild eyes. "Mother'' he said, with an accent
of rapture, and Jericho Jim was gone to the
Jerusalem which is above-IOse Terry Cooke
IN Sunday afternoon for March,