The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-10-03

tered field, and found rest and refresh
ing sleep in a heap of new-mown hay
The sun was way 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.
" Jimmyl" exclaimed Abel; %if here
amt a boy asleep, and | came near
a-pitchin' my fork right into himI"
Walter opened his eyes and looked
wild and frightened.
g What are you here for?" demanded
Mr.. Gardiner, grufly. ~.
"I-I-I am going to .Ashburton, to
try and find work. hadn't any place
to sleep, or any money, and laid down
here for the night" is7 ~ , 4aai 10
Youiwon't get work in Ashburton.
The mills have stopped" said Mr..
Gardiner, in modified, voice. a'h '5s
HDo you know of any one who would
dike to hire a boyf I'd be glad of even
a small job, for | must either work or
starye.'i .'ite8pa @iii7 r s ~ sis5t- 4
The farmer gave a. sharp look into the
WeIl,a said he, kindly, ego in and
get some breakfast, anyhow; and if
yon're mind to, you may stay here to-
day, and I'll try you. What's your
namelp p 81 .fgfa ilGa tfl.ie4j,t,,g =
f'Gilbert Henshaw," replied Walter,
with reddening face. gr
He was net yetsuficiently accustomed
TO his gnew IDENTIFY to announce it.
without certain self-reproach. Still
there was kind OF assurance of free
dom in the sound Of it. Like another
boy, who, from childhood and youth
burdened with the .disgraeed name of a
vicious father, grew to be one of the
noblest Of our Weep Presidents. he had
cast off, the old speculation, lined only
with ignominyy and unhappy memories,
ard Chosen another, which would
leave him free claim to the character,
and merit that was-his. own; though in
assuming anew name without first TAX
ing legal steps to such a measure, Wal
ter, as must any boy SO yenturing, trod
on dangerous ground, as we shall see.
Heltoiled faithfully all that day, and
did so well that old Mr.. Gardiner de-
cided to Keep him week; and when the
week was fended, Mrs. Gardiner had
found him so obliging and useful in the
house, that she said to her husband
aI think we dbetter keep this boy till
the harvesting is over. He's very,
handy, and will save us a great many
steps"
q Yes" responded Mr.. Gardiner; and
the matter was settled.
Weeks and months passed. Gilbert
was happy in his new home, and the
comfort and plenty around him made
the long autumn like a continued holi-
day.
Old Mr.. Gardiner and his wife grew
more and more attached to him, and
their kindness to him was unfailing-
One popularity in the boy, however,
puzzled the worthy couple and piqued
their Curiosity Gilbert never alluded
to the past, and never would tell di-
rectly where he came from, or if his
parents were dead or alive. But they
were considerate 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 Gill
bert.go. He staid WITH them, attended
the village school, and worked morning
and evening, taking care of the cattle.
One day, Mrs. Gardiner was looking
over. large mahogany box which con-
tanned valued family relics. She took
ont an ambrotype, and after gazing at
'it long and tenderly, she said to Gilbert,
Who was near, with much emotion
-4sThis is theLpiefufe of. nay @only
brother, Thomas lding. He came to a
dreadful death. A wicked man named
Asa Bradley murdered him."
Gilberts knees shook under him. He
gasped for breath and his face looked
wild and Mhita.S 8
" The jury brought in verdict of
nfanslaughter," she continued, but
it was der-deliberate murderl
s SrsAyhyg Gilbert, how pale youa are
What il the matter?"
ssEAI don't feelyerywelts 4 guess I
will go out" 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,
Ewho Of allythe world ThadAin his need
given him employment and heme,
should prove, after al. 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
|sJ Il seemed that he r ust ay 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 hi
feelings. To run away would be sus
picious and coHardly act to confess
who he was could do no possible good
There seemed to be nothing left to him
but to seek to atone, as far as possible, fol
| his fathers crime by self-sacrifcing de
/ votion to those whom that crime had 81
terribly afflicted. He could do this
| though he should never break to then
the dread secret of his real name antt
kindrsd.TT lam .afnf9'
I Winter and spring passed, and sum
msr came again One morning, as Gil
bert was returning from the post-ofice
he saw man riding up the street whom
he instantly knew to be Peter Harring
| ton, one Of the overseers of the poor II
Stony Brook. Great was his consterns
ton. Z, IF Mr. Harrington should recog
nize him, and reveal that he was th
son of Asa Bradley, and had lived fiv
fyears in the almshouse, all his presen
hope and happiness would be at an end
tie quickly turned his face away
and stood leaning over the railing of tn
UPSTREAM bridge, gazing intently int
the water. s1s' it6< s@'5 -st'-a Fl
Mr.. Harrington stopped his hors'
Boy, he said, pleasantly, whic
road must / take to go to Ashburton Z"
No answer. Gilbert seemed not
hear him.
& 'fFsI say, boy! which is the right roa
to Ashburton?' .-rf ..rs SCI
Still no reply. .ssa.- .r.
"Can't you speak, or don't yo
> know H,,'-. % Touching Gilbert,s should,
with the handle of his whip.
Still Gilbert neither moved nor spok
'qHe either can tshear, or won't hear
) muttered Mr.. Harrington, as he starte
Il his horse and rode, on.
Gilbert stopped to call an sic
I friend, and an hour later reached hom
AS he entered the sitting-room, the fir