Iron County register., 1881-11-17
THE OPENING OF A HARDENED
HEART.

"And so Kate Owen is coming here!"
said Absalom Burr to himself, as he
paced to and fro in his small, dingy
apartment. "Why don't she get mar
ried and 60 about her business? A
plague on her, [ say. Just because my
sister chose to marry Jim Owen, and
then die, and leave this girl behind, 1
must take the thing and provide for it.
What fool was to tell my sister I'd
see to her child Why, here'll be my
house turned topsy-turvy, and every
thing like peace fly out of the windows.
And then [ suppose the f1irt thinks that
I'll find her spending money. But she III
soon find out her mistake there. Not a
penny-no-not-on She says she can
sew, and she shall. By the host, she
don't touch a penny of mine. And if
she stays here, she shall do my sewing
to pay for hOuse-room, and do my cook
ing and washing to pay for her victuals.
A plague on poor nieces!'
Thus spoke Absalom, and then he sat
down and stuck his feet close up to the
fire. Absalom Burr was a miser. He
had seen his sixtieth birthday, and his
hair was sparse and white. His form
was short and spare, and somewhat
bent. His face was deeply furrowed by
the passing time, and its lines were hard
and cold. His clothes were old and
patched, and his shoes, even, were sadly
in want of mending. The cold breath
of winter was close at hand, and yet the
only fuel he had was such as he had
been able to pick up by the roadside
and at the edge of the pond. The house
in which he lived was but poor hovel,
with only two rooms, and with furniture
more fit for firewood than anything
else. There were four windows in the
house, and every spare rag of clothing
he owned was in use for the replacing
of broken panes.
And vet Absalom Burr was worth fif-
ty thousand dollars, though he contrived
to be taxed for only about ten thousand,
which was invested in houses that he
rented in town.
He was never known to bestow
penny in charity, though many poor
and suffering fellow-creature had
begged for assistance at his hands.
Alone had he lived for many long
year, and his heart was hardened and
closed up against every kindly feeling.
He spent his time in attending to his
rents, picking up wood and rags by the
wayside, and counting his money at
home.
One Monday evening near the last of
November the stage stopped in front
of Absalom's hut, and young woman
was helped out by the driver, and
trunk and bandbox put down after her.
1t was Kate Owen.
The old man had not seen her for ten
years, but he remembered well how his
sister had looked when she was girl,
and here was her exact image. Kate's
mother was the only sister he ever had,
and Kate was the only near relative he
had living.
The girl helped carry her own trunk
in, and as soon as she had removed her
bonnet, she threw her arms around her
uncle's neck and kissed him He started
back at this, and a severe look passed
over his face.
Kate Owen was pretty girl, and she
had left behind her not one acquaint-
ance who did not love her. She was a
short, plump, laughter-loving being,
with brown hair and hazel eyes, and
when she laughed the dimples deepened
in her cheeks and chin, and the dark
curls shook about her fair temples. In
fact, one look at her happy face was as
good as medicine for the blues, and the
ring of her rich and merry laugh was
contagious.
"My dear uncle" she said, after she
had seated herself at the fire, "are
YOU not glad I've Gomez"
"Well-yes; shouldn't want you to
be without a home-but mind, you are
to help me. You won't be an expense
to me.''
"Of course 1 won't. Why, I'll return
YOU tenfold. How snug and happy we
will be next winter! You won't be here
all alone to hear the wind blow and the
hail thump and rattle against the win
dows. And / shall feel better, too,
than I should if l was away among
strangers"
"But you've got to 60 among stran-