The Portland daily press., 1878-09-28

money, too. There ought to be divide.
There was Lazarus, now; if the dogs licked
his sores, he had the satisfaction of knowing
his turn was coming hereafter. But Pm to
be left outside the gate in both words.'
There was touch of earuestness in the
last words, which he turned off by an uneasy
chuckle.
"You want money? How much? For
what sum will you take yourself out of my
sight, and never come into it again ?'
The chuckle died out. Captain Harbour
raised his bleared eyes to his brothers. face
''You are hard, Nicholas. Be patient"
"Patient? Good God How much money
have you drained from me? How many
times did my father give you fresh start in
life? Oh, I've seen other men of your sort
John Harbour! B!ood-suckers, leeches, lazy
to the very marrow. You shall cling on me
no longer. l tell you that plainly. The sight
OF you tonight draws the life-blood out of
me. Patentp'
Captain Harbour was completely sobered.
81 did not come to you this time for money,
Nicholas" he said, in a low voice.
"What then" Mr.. Harbour tried by this
time to control his anger, but savage irrita-
tion broke through every studiously modu-
lated tone. Estate your business in as few
words as possible. Then let that be the end,
You go one way, another. Our paths be
as far apart as heaven and hell" John did
not answer him at once. In the meantime,
Mr.. Harbour's rage began to turn into nifty
for himself He glanced up at the stately
house in the quiet distance shaded by the
old elms; he thought of the life waiting for
him there of dignity, love, holy work and
meditation. Must he be dragged away from
such fate to carry this vicious wretch? Like
a body of death fastened to his pure life? 1t
| was hard. Yet if it was known that this
| man was his brother, he could never ask Sa-
| rah to marry him.
| Captain Harbour, who had been picking
| the lichen from the fence irresolutely, spoke
at last. ''No, didn't mean to ask for money
| this time; that is, for more than would keep
me from starving. Pve been eech, l know.
Pm mean devil; you're right, Nick.'
"What brought you here. then ?'
"What brought me here ?" suddenly stand
| ing erect. 'sGreat God, look at me, I'm
brute, aud Fm only thirty! Do you think
never want to be man again? It's not
| pleasant for you to see me reeing in the
streets, lying in the bar-rooms till I'm kicked
out-what IS it to me? l can't get on my
! feet again alone, and 1 know nobody who
can help me-not man in Gods world I'M
! less you do it,"
| He was silent. His face burned with heat; !;
great drops of sweat tricked down his neck !;
the sham collar hung by one corner like
wet rag. Mr.. Harbour eyed the repulsive
| wretch with cold suspicion, but said nothing.
81 was in New York last week. thought:
I'll 60 to Nick. He and 1 never were inti-
mate. But he's a clergyman. So you are,-
man of God, you know. l thought you'd
set me son my legs again-somehow." His
voice broke little, but he coughed, and took
| chew of tobacco.
Still Mr.. Harbour did not speak.
81 have no claim on you, Nick, know.
| But we had the same mother, once"
Nicholas's pale eyes flashed. 1--WE had
mother, yes. Who was it that brought her
grey hairs to the grave? I have no faith in
| you, John Harbour. knoty you. This
whining cant of repentance is clever trick,
| but it does not impose upon me. You want
| rue to bling you here-here at the sacrifice
| of every chance of happiness 1 have in life,
| and to carry you dead weight, while you
| fool me with promises of reform. Reform?
bah!'
Captain Harbour waited imnovable until
| this TRADE was over. It occurred TO the cler-
| gyman that the slouched, bloated figure had a
| certain dignity Of bearing at the moment,
! and he was startled by quick glance which
reminded him of Jack, his brother Jack,
with whom he had slept and played when
they were very little boys.
'That will do, Nick" The captain put
l Oh hio Sdps VIC ulOp luO puUlCCbs uUW3 IL
| you please. was mistaken. Good bye."
Mr.. Harbour waited a moment irresontely.
"Where are you going now?" he called
roughly.
'.To the shop in the village. They've some
capital Bourbon there. feel like going on
big drunk tonight"
''Stop!' walking to his side. 9Th see you
in the morning, and pay your way to New
York. I'll send you stated sum monthly,
as long as you remain there.'
mo. I'll take no more money from you,
Nick" and with quietness which startled
his brother, and curlously added to his irri-
tation. cit won't take much to buy whiskey
enough to make an end of it,
1What do you mean?"
But the captain, with his half soldierly,
halfdrunken strut, was already out of hear
ing. crossing the swampy meadow.
NJ, The young clergyman. watched him.
There was whisper in his heart-"If thy
brother sin against thee, thou shalt forgive
him. Until seventy times seven."
He adjusted his hat impatiently, told him
self there never was so worthless sot on
Gods earth, so damnable an incubus on
decent mans life. Which was, probably,
true enough. Nicholas bad been soreIy tried
and had borne his trial with patience for
years.
The meadow was a stretch of dark, deep
WCcuS, Out OE bWO Olu CGUdES grew III L0o
center, and then a gloomy shadow.
Mr.. Harbour suddenly remembered it's
name. the cedar pasture. What was it
that he had heard OF an oldsshaft sunk for
iron. and not properly covered? What if
poor Jack should tall into 1t? He started 10
run after him, and then stopped suddenly.
"Bahl He's not born to that sort of ill
luck. I'll Send him to New York tomorrow,
and remit to him regularly. He'll live to
goodly old age, to blacken my lfe.''
He turned and walked towards town, skirt
ing the field. His pace was angry and hur-
ried. Captain Harbour paused and looked
back at him. In the red evening glow the
figure crossing the dreary field stood out
clear and dark.
Sand that is my mothers sonW muttered
John bitterly, Sand my last chance"
He heard stifed cry, and stared with
amazement over the vacant meadow. The
figure was gone.
Ill news flies fast in a village like Kerr's
Ford. In ten minutes there were groups
crowdlng from all points to the cedar mead
ows, and everybody knew that the minister
had fallen into the old shaft.
They stood about the black gap from which
the brambles had been torn away by his fall,
with pale faces, saying little. No vulgar pre-
tension, or malicious sneers now. Here was
genuine grief, genuine human feeling. The
woucus p3dCh anu Willie, stOOu apart SODDlnS
silently. Only such men spoke as had some
practical suggestion to offer-the Judge and
the young Holts and Burwells. The men of
fashion of the village, with their coats off,
worked under Plummer, the blacksmith's
orders. They had rigged up pulley to let a
rope down.
Colonel Caldwell, on his knees, shouted
into the hole, ''Mr. Harbourp'
No answer.
''Do you hear nae, sir?'
TIE silence was like death. The women
shuddered.
tCould the first fall have killed him ?'
said Caldwell. looking up to DR.. Peters.
Hardly; the shaft is narrow. His fall
would be broken.'
'Does anybody know how deep it is ?"
Old Mr.. Holt pressed forward. "It was
reckoned sixty feet in my time"
There was young girl standing apart
from the Others. She noticed that the men
unconsciously spoke in whispers, as in the
presence of the dead. She came nearer.
HE is not Dead" she said! "God could
not do that. Lower the rope''
Thpv did sO The iron hor Of tho md