The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-10-16
More than three hundred miles he


travelled on foot, begging food by the
way after the little money Mr.. Lewis
had given him was gone, and often at
night having only the damp ground for
his bed. He reached the boundary line of
Ohio, and at once began anew the weary
search for employment.
One warm summer evening he en-
tered field. and found rest and refresh
ing sleep in heap of new-mown hay.
The sun was far above the hills before
the tired, footsore boy awoke. Old Mr..
Gardiner and his man came out with
forks in hand to open the hay.
Jimmy p exclaimed Abel; eff here
amt boy asleep, and [ came near a.
pitching my fork right into him !"
Walter opened his eyes and looked
wild and frightened.
"What are you here for?" demanded
Mr.. Gardiner, grufiy.
dill am going to Ashburton, to
try and find work. I hadn't any place
to sleep, or any money, and laid down
here for the night"
"You won't get work in Ashburton.
The mills have stopped" said Mr.. Gar
diner. in mollifed voice.
"Do you know any one who would
like to hire boy? I'd be glad of even
a small job, for I must either work or
starve."
The farmer gave sharp look into the
boys face.
"Well," said he kindly, "go in and
get some breakfast, anyhow and if
you're mind to, you may stay here to-
day, and I'll try you. What's your
name?"
"Gilbert Henshaw," replied Walter,
with Redeemed face.
He toiled faithfully all that day, and
did so we'll that old Mr.. Gardiner de-
cided to keep him week; and when the
week was ended, Mrs. Gardiner had
found him so obliging and useful in the
house that she said to her husband:
"I think we better keep this boy till
the harvesting is over. He's very
handy, and will save US great many
steps,"
eyes," responded Mr.. Gardiner; and
the matter was settled.
Weeks and months passed. Gilbert
was happy in his adopted home. and the
comfort and plenty around him made
the long autumn like continued holi-
day. Old Mr.. Gardiner and his wife
grew more and more attached to him,
and their kindness to him was unfailing.
One peculiarly in the boy, however,
puzzled the worthy couple and piqued
their curiosity. Gilbert never alluded
to the past, and never would tell directly
where he came from, or if his parents
were dead or alive. But they were con-
siderate enough not to press him, and
preferred to think that he had some sad
reason for his silence which involved no
blame of his own.
When winter came the GARDENERS were
less inclined than ever to let Gilbert go.
he stayed with them, attended the vii
lage school, and worked morning and
evening, taking care of the cattle.
One day Mrs. Gardiner was looking
over a large mahogany box which con-
tanned valued family relics. She took
out an ambrotype, and after gazing at it
long and tenderlv, she said to Gilbert,
who was near, with much emotion:
"This is the picture of my only broth
or, Thomas Iding. BE came to dread
full death. A wicked man, named Asa
Bradley, murdered him."
Gilbert's knees shook under him. He
gasped for breath, and his face looked
wild and white.
"The jury brought in verdict OF
manslaughter," she continued, "but it
was murder-deliberate murder !"
"Why, Gilbert, how pale you are
What is the matter2"
ell don't feel very we'll. I guess I
will gosout." And hurrying from the
house the poor boy, overwhelmed with
horror and distress, went to the barn
and sat down alone.
That his best friends, his benefactors,
who of all the world had in his need
given him employment and home,
should prove, after all, to be the suffer-
ers by his fathers crime, was too much.
How would they feel if they knew they
were harboring the son of their brothers
murderer
1t seemed as if he must fly from the
place at once-fy to the ends of the
earth, hunted by paternal ban. But
calmer thoughts returned, and he sue
ceeded in quieting the tumult of his
feelings. To run away would be sus-
picious and cowardly act; to confess
who he was could do no possible good.
There seemed to be nothing leftfor him
but to seek to atone, as far as possible,
for his fathers crime by self-sacrifcing
devotion to those whom that crime had
80 terribly afflicted. He could do this,
though he should never break to them
the dread secret of his real name and
kindred.
Winter and spring passed, and sum-
mer came again. One morning, as
Gilbert was returning from the post
Office, he saw man riding up the street
whom he instantly knew to be Peter
Harrington, one of the overseers of the
poor in Stony Brook. Great was his
CONSERVATION. If Mr.. Harrington
should recognize him, and reveal that
he was the son of Asa Bradley, and had
lived five years in the almshouse, all his
present hopes and happiness would be
at an end.
He quickly turned his face away, and
stood leaning over the railing of the
mill-stream bridge, gazing intently into
the water.
Mr.. Harrington stopped his horse.
"Boy," he said, pleasantly, (which
road must I take to 90 to Ashburton p
No answer. Gilbert seemed not to
hear him.
"I say, boy which is the right road
to Ashburton ?"
Still no reply.
"Can't you speak, or don't you
know?" touching Gilbert's shoulder
with the handle of his whip.
Still Gilbert neither moved nor spoke.
"He either can't hear, or won't hear,
muttered Mr.. Harrington, as be started
his horse and rode on.
Gilbert stopped to call on a sick
friend, and an hour later reached home.
As he entered the sittingroom, the first
person he saw wes Peter Harrington, in
non,.r,ot;or, With Mr. and Mrs Gar6i-