Connecticut western news., 1878-10-30

the mother, to whom the remark was addressed, lis my son 50 very unkind to you and the little ones? Surely, he can- not forget himself 50 far as to use per sonal violence"
 "No, mother, he is rather more surly than violent. At such times he dislikes to be spoken to, and is angry if the chil dren make noise. The poor babes used to spring with delight when they heard his steps. Now they shrink from him with fear. Last evening when l bade Willie say his prayer for poor father be- cause he was sick, the little fellow wept and said, Willie will say his prayer for poor father, but father don't love Willie any more.'" Tears fell fast from Liz zie's eyes as she spoke, and the mother wept also. William was her eldest born, and had ever been her pride and delight. It was, indeed, hard to know that he had thus gone astray.
 "And is there no hope for the future p she said, bitterly. Will he thus will fully pursue the road to ruin, until it is too late to retrace his steps ?"
 "We know not the end, /" replied Liz zie, |" but I fear that things will become worse. May God help us p 1 Lizzie's fears were but too we'll grounded. The dark cloud about them became more dense. Dissipation led to idleness work was neglected; debts &C., cumulated, and poverty stared them In | the face.
 Deeper grew the shadow on the brow of the old blacksmith, as he watched the gradual decline from virtue of his son. For hours he would sit at the door of his own cottage, apparently in state of moody abstraction, and then mourn fully shaking his head, would say, as he aroused himself, "All is silent, now 1; the blacksmith's hammer is no more heard in the old shop. Oh, my boy, my boy! Would that could have stood beside thy grave, ere I had seen thee thus p
 Suddenly he seemed to have formed some new resolution. Rising one morning earlier than had been his wont for several years, he took the well-known cross path to the shop. It WAS closed, and the entrance well secured. For a moment he paused, irresclute, and then walked with quick steps to 8 small house in the neighborhood.
 els MT. Birch inf" he inquired of the little boy who answered his knock at the door.
 The man in question, who had long been in James, employ, immediately stepped forward.
 "The shop is locked, sir," said the old gentleman. "Have you the key J"
 "I have, was the reply;" but MT. William is so seldom at his work, now, that never open without his orders. I am about seeking situation in Clyde. Working one day in seven, will not support a family"
 "It will not, indeed, MT. Bich but if you will rely upon me, will see that you are paid as usual. Open the shop at once, and be ready for whatever may 1 offer." s...
 "But I do not feel myself quite com petent to take the whole charge. MT. James, anl willing to work under I orders."
 "I will be there mJ self" was the reply, "and we will see whether Time has robbed my arm of it's strength" In half an hour all was hustle and activity at the old blacksmith shop. The wondering neighbors-who had fo1 months past been obliged to go ten miles to the next village, when anything in that line was required, heard with surprise the busy strokes of the hammer l Sam Jones almost rejoiced when his horse lost shoe, because it gave him an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity He was a rough man, but his heart was touched when he saw the old gentleman. hard at work, and it was with almost all air of difference that he asked if his horse could be shod immediately, as he was in haste to go to Clyde on important | business.
 Without delay, Sam. Here, Mir. Rich, will you attend to this ?-or, stay, will do it myself. It is ten years, ol more, since have shod horse; but l know the right way yet, if I mistake not"
 The job was about half completed, and the old blacksmith, with all the interest and activity of former years, was bending over the uplifted foot oi che animal, when another person entered the shop. For moment he stood un- noticed, but an attentive observer oi what was passing. The hand of the old gentleman trembled, as he performed tho unusual labor, and he paused as ii fatigued.
 Father" said we1l-known voice at his side, "what means this? This work becomes not your gray hairs give me the hammer"
 II have VOW, William," was the reply, that your wife and childre1 shall never want while I can raise s hammer; nor your good name be dis graced with debts, if I can earn the means to pay them. God will give me strength"
 More affected than he cared to own William walked to the farther part of tht shop, and busted himself with some work that stood ready. For many dayl he had been absent from home, and hat returned at late hour on the previou. evening. His feelings had been gooc deal softened by the appearance of abso lute poverty his cottage had assumed