The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1881-08-27

In spite OF his ChredQDare apparel, he
looked so thoroughly respectable that /
was half ashamed of the question was
compelled to put:
81 suppose you have references, sir?"
mo; all are dead who might speak
for me if they could. You viii have to
take me on trust"
looked at Margie again, who, CIV
ing me another nod, said:
Perhaps the gentleman viii mention
what he feels able to payp'
The stranger did SO, adding:
81 am poor and cannot pay one PEN
ny more.''
The sum named, though not large,
was more than what we were intending
to ask, as I told him.
The old man frowned and shook his
head.
s.Thee shouldn't have told me that.
/ have half a mind to give thee no
more.n
Then counting out upon the table
the amount he had stated, he pushed it
toward me, adding:
my name is Thomas. I will be
here tomorrow morning with all my
traps"
The traps mentioned consisted of an
old-fashioned hair-trunk, and large
chest, the latter being mainly filed
with books.
We were not long in finding out that
our ledger was very odd, though his
oddities were of the most innocent and
harmless nature.
He asked me to substitute a patch
work quilt for the white Counterpart
on his bed; and spent a whole day rum
aging auction rooms to find some old
fashioned chintz to take the place of
the pretty muslin curtains on which
had spent so much time and labor. /
had taken rocker for him from the
sitting-room, but spying, one day, an
old leather bottomed chair that had be-
longed to my grandfather, he asked me
to exchange with him, which / was
very glad to do.
Not long AFTER a chest of drawers,
that was my grandfather's, found its
way back to its old place, together with
the quaint brass-mounted mirror that
always hung over it.
So that, at last, the room looked very
much as it did before we re-arranged it
with so much care and labor.
John and l had a quiet laugh over it,
but SO long as it suited its present oc-
cupant, we did not mind.
1t was Margie who first suggested
that we invite him to take tea with us
one day, when we had some unusual
delicacy-early strawberries, / think
HE must be very lonely, poor manp'
said my gentle-hearted sister. ''Per-
haps he doesn't have enough to eat?
He spoke about being poor, you know"
After this, he dropped in occasional
ly in the evening, bringing some new
magazine or paper, and reading to us
as we sat at work. Finally, it became
an established custom with him to take
tea with us twice, and sometimes three
times week; frequently inviting him
self, though we always knew he was
coming by the advent of the market
boy with a liberal supply of provisions,
all of the best quality.
This troubled Margie's tender con-
science, and she demonstrated with him
one day.
1T is wrong" he said, with grave
shake of the head. I'm a poor man;
and ought to be moro prudent
He and John were apparently on the
best of terms, yet he was always find
ing fault with him to me.
ITO think of his taking the entire
charge of his mother, when she has
other children, and sending money to
his brothers widow!n he said to me one
day.
Now, could never endure the slight
est reflection upon John, and I defend
ed him with a spirit and indignation
that seemed to amuse Mr.. Thomas not
a little.
with thy pretty face and ways, thee
ought to do better, Ruth he resumed,
when l paused for want of breath.
''Not but what John is good enough,
but he's poor. I've heard that thee re-
fused Mr. Hart, who is worth million.
What made thee do such a foolish thing
as that, child?''
because l didn't love Mr.. Hart; and
do love john
The silence that followed made me
glance up at my companion, who had
turned towards the door. 1t was grow
ing dusk, and the face was partly avert
ed, but / was almost sure that the eyes
were full of tears.
In the early spring he was knocked
down by runaway horse, sustaining
some internal injury from which he
never recovered.
John and took turns in nursing him;
it was pleasant, afterwards, to remem-
Der that he wanted for nothing.
John, Margie and [ were there. He
had been lying in a stupor for some
hours; now he reused himself and be-
gan to talk, startling us not little by
his strange expressions.
81 was born in this room," he said,
glancing around; ''and / shall die
here''
Thinking his mind was wandering, 1
laid my hand gently on his
Thee hast thy mothers name, Ruth,
and her kind heart as well, but thy
eyes are like thy fathers. He has been
here, thanking me for providing for
his orphan girls. This was our room
when we were boys. Dear old Joe! be-
fore the dawning of another day we
shall meet"
John and / looked at each other in
wondering awe. Two years before l
had stood by my fathers dying bed;
was it the same mysterious shadow that
made their f;lces look SO strangely like?
The dying man continued:
'Thy father and / were brothers,
Did he nevel. speak to thee of his BROTH
er Tom, who forsook home and coun-
try because Il girl, as false as fair, broke
her plighted troth to wed a richer suit
orp You have both been very kind to
the poor old man who came to you a
stranger. / have not forgotten 1t, as
the papers In my desk will show"
An examination of the papers allud-
ed to not only proved that my poor
uncle spoke truly, but that he died in
the possession of bonds and stock to
the amount of twenty thousand dollars;
ito be divided equally" ran the