The Morristown gazette. [volume] (Morristown, Tenn.) 1867-1920, 1880-01-21
AFTER MANY DAYS.
By WILLIAM H. BUSHNELL.

N~NAA1'AA4A'
" Never, so long as l live, will I for
give her, and when | am dead not a sin
gle penny of my money shall ever ben
eft her or any one belonging to her."
For the thousandth time old Job
Grey uttered the same threat-the same
in spirit, if not in words. It had be-
come almost part of his daily life, and
| appeared to intensity as the years
passed. One would have thought, as
the grave yawned more closely, he
would have sOftened. But it was not
so. His purpose remained unchanged
! and his will unbent. At first it had
been q paradox to his neighbors how
one who prayed so long and loudly at
AL church gatherings could thus harbOr
resentment and be unmindful of the
forgiveness of which he would soon
stand in need. But at last they be-
came accustomed to his chronic state of
mind, and knowing that, in the main,
he was the possessQr of a good and
warm heart, simply smiled at it. Yet
what could have made him burst out SO
suddenly and without apparent cause
at that particular time sorely puzzled
his old wife.
H'Why. job" she exclaimed, pausing
in making the pumpkin pies that were
ever the crowning glory of the Thanks
giving table, what upon earth is the
matter now?
And it would have been wonder to
those more deeply Eelsed in the mys-
terry of the human soul than Susan
;4rey. Her husband had waxed rich;
the world had gone well with him, his
acres had increased, he was the owner
of bank snd railroad stock, his cattle
and horses and sheep were many, and
he was not without worldly hOnOrs.
Yes, business had gone we'll with him,
and why, upon that golden morning,
when the soft sunny breath Of Indian
summer whispered peace and plenty
and contentment, he should have
turned back the ledger of life for nearly
twenty years to look upon one dark,
haunting page, could have been ae-
countedzfor by none but himself.
II was thinking, Susan" he said,
and despite all the gall of bitterness
within his heart he could not entirely
keep his voice from trembling and
something of mist from gathering in his
ewes, 81 was thinking of the day when
our one child forsook her home to go
away with a scoundrel."
The poor mother, who had never
ceased to love their offending daughter,
drew her apron over her tear-iaden
Iashes and sobbed.
"He loved our child dearly and was
very poor, Job, but always treated her
kindly-always as long as he lived.
"He stole her away. She disobeyed
her parents, and could"
"Don't Job-don't curse her Poor
child, she has suffered enough, and we
all have wandered like sheep from the
right path. But what could make you
hink of her to-day of all others?"
Il had to do so. We are gro wing old
without any one to care for us, and
when we die all our wealth will go to
strangers unless"
s'You leave it to some society"
"To have it fought oyer and squan-
dered. No, no; never cent will any
of them finger and grow fat upon"
"But our daughterT
+" Hush As she made her bed, even
SO must she lie it Didn't she steal
hundreds of dollars from meT
"Thank heaven, they were married.
oh i the consolation that has been to
me. But l wouldn't think of it to-day,
Job; tomorrow is the blessed Thanks
giving, ande we ought TO prepare our
selves TO meet it in a proper spirit.
Certainly we have very much to be
thankful for"
Z" Well" he continued, "this picture
of our MaFy-take it away, wife, or 1t
will drive me mad
'sThe woman raised it from the floor,
where it had fallen, tenderly brushed
away the dust, kissed it, and having
laidjit safely between the leaves of the
Bible. he continued:
Happening to come across the face
once so dear to us, thought of wha
our home might have been had she
married as we wished; how she and
her husband and bright-eyed Laughing
children would have made the lonely
old house ring tomorrow. But it viii
never be, never be-"
His wife had sunk into the rocking
chair, sobbing aloud, and even he was
moved as she had never seen him before,
as he went on:
4" 1t can never be now, Susan, but you
might yet have somebody to save your
old footsteps-one who would perhaps
grow into our hearts, become as a child
to us, and to whom we could leave our
property when we are called beyond
''the river"
" Jobl" she almost gasped in aston
ishment, "what do you meanp
ST mean,l' hessaid hastily, and as one
uncertain even of himself, eve uight
adopt some girl"
l"Graciousl But old Martha? She
has been with us these many years, and
like ourselves, is about worn out. You
could not have the heart to turn her out
now%
I"No. Susan. She shall be cared for
even unto death. But she is failing
fast. You cannot but have noticed it,
and if / am not deceived she has some
thing heavy upon her mind"
cit must be her son."
'No; he is dead But yesterday |
brought her the neWs-blessed news, |
should say-though ever since she has
wandered around nluttering strangely