Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1879-11-20

ship was transition indeed. But, ere he
went on deck again, he had fully resolved
that he would do his duty, come what
would, short Of death. He would forget
that he ever did else but work for his live
hood. With these resolves clearly determ-
med in his mind. he already felt better.
AT first our supercargo was too weak to
do much. He was very sick, and ii lasted
nearly two weeks, but when that passed
of, and he could face the vibrating deck
with stout stomach his appetite grew
sharp, and his muscles began TO grow
strong.
| At first he cravcd some of the many deli
cacies be had long been used to- but they
were not 10 be had, and he very soon learned
To do without them. The result was that
his appetite became natural in its wants,
and kis system began to find itself nour-
ished by simple food taken in proper quan
! titles.
For years he had looked upon breakfast
as a meal which must be set out and par
taken Of from mere fashion. A cup of
coffee, and perhaps piece of dry toast, or
a seasoned or highly spiced tidbit, had con-
| situted the morning meal. But now,
when the breakfast hour came, he approach
Ell it with keen appetite, and felt as strong
and as hearty as at any other time of the
day.
BY degrees the hollow cheeks became
full, the dark eyes assumed new lustre, the
color, rich and healthful, came to the face,
the breast swelled with increasing power,
the lungs expanded and grew strong, the
muscles became more firm and true, the
nerves grew strong, and the garments which
he had worn when he came on board had
to be let out some inches in order TO make
them fit. His disposition became cheerful
and bright, and by the time the ship had
reached the southern cape of Africa the
crew had all learned TO love him.
Through storm and sunshine, through
tempest and calm, through dark hours and
bright, the young supercargo made his voy-
age. In one year from the day which he
left his native land he placed his foot again
upon the soil of his home.
But he did not stop. The same ship with
the same officers, was going upon the same
cruise again, and he meant to go in her.
He saw Grace Melburne, and she would
wait. He saw DR.. Weston, and the kind
old gentleman praised him for his manly
independence.
Again Arthur Morton was upon the sea,
and again he assumed the duties of his Of
fee, and even more He even stood watch
when there was no need of it, and during
seasons of storm he claimed post on deck.
At the end ofanother year the young man
returned to his home again. He was now
eight and twenty, and few who knew him
two years before could recognize him now.
His face was bronZed by exposure, his
form was filled out to perfection, and he
was greeted with great affection by old DIR.
Weston, who would insist on his staying
with him during his leave on shore. One
day after Arthur's arrival, he suddenly
burst into the room and said abruptly:
''Well, Arthur, Mr.. Crosby is here. Will
you see him r.
'.See himl See Matthew Crosby7 OF
course | will. He owes me an explanation,
and hope he can give me satisfactory
one"
The door was opened and Mr.. Crosby en-
tered.
He was an elderly man, but hale and
hearty.
The old man and the young one shook
hands and then inquired after each others
health.
years ago," " said Crosby, '1n which | stated
that one in whom II usted had got your
money and mine with it, and that l could
not pay you"
''Yes sir" answered cur hero, not know
ing what was to come next.
''Well," resumed Crosby, CDR. Weston
was the man. Hs had your money"
''Howl What o. grasped Arthur, gaz-
ing from one to the other in blank aston
ishment
"Hold on, my boy" said the doctor,
while a thousand emotions seemed to work
within his bosom. 81 was the villain. 1t
was who got your money. worked your
ruin, and will tell you why saw that
you were dying. Your father died of the
same disease. A consumption was upon
him-not the regular pulmonary affection,
but a wasting away of the system for want
of vitality. The mini was wearing out the
body. The soul was slowly eating it's way
from the cords that bound it to the earth.
knew that you could be cured, and knew,
too, that the only thing in the world which
would cure you was to throw you on your
own physical resources for a livelihood.
There was morbid willingness of the spirit
to pass away. You would have died ere
you would have made an eXertion from the
fact that you looked upon exertion as worse
than death 1t was strang state of both
mind and body. Your fortune rendered
work unnecessary, so there was no hope
while that fortune remained, Had it been
a wholly bodily malady, could have argu-
ed you into necessary work for a cure. And
ON the other hand had it been wholly men,
tai disease, might have driven your body
20 help your mind. But both were weak,
and knew you must either work or die.
"And now, my boy, I'll tell you where
my hope lay. knew that you possessed
such true pride of independence that you
would work. saw Crosby, and told him
my plans. l assured him if we could con-
trive to get you to sea- and make you start
out into active life, for the sake of a live
hood, you could be saved. He Joined me
at once. took your money and his, and
then bid him clear out. You know the
rest. Your money is safe-every penny Of
ito the eamount of -150, 900. Poor Crosby
has suffered much in knowing how you look
ed upon him; but know that he is amply
repaid by the sight of your noble, powerful
frame, as he sees it tonight. And now,
Arthur, are we foregivenW
1t was a full hour before all the questions
of the happy friends could be asked and an
swered, and when the doctor and Crosby
had been forgiven and blessed for the twen-
ieth time, Mr.. Melburne said, "Wait !"
He left the room and when he returned