The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1881-05-12
great surprise at the numerous adver-
tisements in the papers relating to
money lost md fonnd -.

great surprise at the numerous adver-
tisements in the papers relating to
money lost and found.
We'll, said he, 81 have not the least
sympathy for those who lose money.
They are generally careless, stupid peo-
pie not fit to be trusted although I re-
member having heard Of young man
who lost pocket book, some years ago.
containing 1000, and I declare when
1 read his piteous appeals, which were in
all the papers, my heart fairly ached for
him. "But," continued he, addressing
my father-in-law, who had become very
pale, you ought to remember the cir
cumstances, for it occurred just at the
time of the great failure in Philadelphia,
by which you were so heavy loser.''
Eyes, recollect the affair" replied
Mr.. Thorne, who appeared to be suffer
ing.
IT never heard" continued the doc
tor, 'swhat became of the poor devil;
and vet I should like to know. .
"Should your" said /, laughing;
"then let me crafty your curiosity. I.
Arthur Wallace, am that poor devil, doc
tor saved from ruin and despair by my
benefactor here" And then I related all
the events of the last fifteen years.
The doctor sprung to his feet and
grasped his old friends hand.
"Well and generously done y said he;
but Mr.. Thorne interrupted him. II
am not well" he said, family. 81 suf-
fer greatly-let me go to my room."
The next day he sent for me to his
private Office. found him looking pale
and haggard.
"Sit down. my dear Arthur" said he.
in a low voice, "and listen to me. For
long time have had confession to
make to you-one that weighs on me so
heavily that I must ease my conscience
of its load. [ can better bear to do so
now, that I have in a measure made
some amends for the trouble I once
caused you"
"The trouble you caused me" criedI.
"You have been the most generous of
men to me. 1t is through your kindness
you oWe my happine e Ro and. more re + than
all, my honor"
Mr.. Thorne opened his desk, and took
from it pocket book.
"Do you remember this % said he, as
he placed it in my hand.
eyes," replied I, cit is the one I
lost but how ...-.
I could not finish my question. The
truth stared me in the face. Isprang to
my feet in dismay. .......
"Great heavens p I cried "you
found the money"
u" Aye, and kept it." he groaned, with
anguish in his voice. "But oh do not
condemn me without hearing me. Yes
terday you heard DR.. Ponard allude to
the great losses I had sustained by the
failure in Philadelphia. I did not dare
to make my emba1rassments known, as
that would have fastened my ruin-my
ruin God knows it was not for myself
that cared, but for Alice, my darling
child. It was on the 18th of December
that you lost the money. Oh, I shall
never forget the date. It was on that
day that I meditated suicide. [ was
short of $4,000 to meet my liabilities,
maturing on the 18th. I was overwhelmed
with despair; the air of the Office
seemed to stife me, and rushed into
the street. I had hardly gone ten yards
when my foot struck something. It was
your pocket-book. I opened it, and the
sight turned me giddy and faint. Then
commenced within my breast one of
those moral struggles which, even to the
conqueror, is fearful, but in which, alas
] was miserably vanquished. The next
day [ satisfied all claims upon me. To
the world was George Thorne, an hon
est, upright man to myself I was moth
ing better than malefactor. You know
the rest. Through my guilt you passed
two weeks of indescribable anguish. [
have since endeavored to make repara-
ton for the misery I caused but 1 also
suffered. Moral atonements are the
most cruel, because they are eternal I
have known and yet feel the bitterness
Of expiration. Say, my son, can you for
give my crime?"
Gould forgive? looked at the pal
lid face, anguished eyes. What were
my sufferings of those two terrible
weeks compared to the secret pain and
shame this man had borne for years p
this man, the victim of one solitary de-
Walton from rectitude, SO upright in all
else, and whose life since had been one
long atonement. I grasped his hand,
tears filed my eyes.
Father" t cried, ;7Alice's father and
mine, all is forgiven, forgotten. Do I
not owe all the happiness of my life to
that same lost pocket book?"
What Is q Cold? "
In the first place, we must be para
doxical, and affirm that it is not cold
at all. It is rather heat, if I might
so express myself-that is, it is q form
of fever, but, of course, Of very mild
type, when it is uncompGcated by other
diseases. It is certainly, in the ma
jority of instances, due to the effects of
cold playing upon some portion of the
body, and reacting upon the mucous
membrane through the Intervention of