The Osceola times., 1881-05-21

sympathy Tor those whe lose money.
They are generally careless, stupid
people, not iit to be trusted; although |
remember Of having heard Of a young
man who lost o pocket-book containing
SO 600. and declare when ] read his
p'teOus appeals which were m all the
papers, my heart fairly ached for him.
But, he conliuued, addressing my
father-in-law, who had become very
pale "you ought ia remember the cir
cumstances, for il occurred Just at the
time of the great failure in Philadelphia,
by which you were so heavy loser"
"Ges, ! recollect the affair."" replied
Mr.. rhorne, who seemed to be suffering.
81 never heard, continued the doctor,
"what became Of the poor devil, and yet
should like 10 know"
"Should you?" said /, laughing, "then
let me crafty your curiosity. 81, Arthur
Wallace, am the poor devil, doctor;
saved from ruin and despair by my bene-
factor, here"
And then, related all the events Of
the last fifteen years.
The doctor spIang TO his feet and
gIasped his old friends hand
"Well and generously done!' said he;
but Mr.. Thorne Interrupted him.
81 am not well" said he, family. 81
suffer greatly; let Inc 60 to my IooR."
The next day, he sent for me to come
to his private office. | found him look
ing pale and haggard.
"Sit down, my dear Arthur" said he,
In Il low voice, "and nsten 10 me. FOR a
long time, ] have had a confession to
make to you one that weighs on me so
heavily that / must ease my conscience
of its load. | can better bear to do so,
now | have made some amends for the
trouble ! once caused YOU"
"Ihc trouble you caused mew cried !,
"lou have been the most generous of
men to me. 1t is through your kindness
I occupy my present position; 1t is to you
owe my happiness, and, more than all,
my honor,
Mr.. ihorne opened his desk and took
from it pocket book.
"Do you remember this?' said he, as
he placed it in my hand. -
"Yes," repliea.ss .sslt is the one l lost;
but how" ~
could not finish my question. The
truth stared me in the face. l sprang TO
my feet in dismay.
"Great heavens!" ! cried; "you found
the money?
AYE, and keptIt," lac groaned, with
anguish in his voice. But, OH do not
condemn without hearing me. Yester-
day YOU beard DIR. Ponard allude to the
great losses | had sustained by failures in
Philadelphia. | did not dare to make
my embarrassment known, as that would
have hastened my ruin my ruin! God
knows That 1t was not for myself that |
cared. but for Alice, my darling child.
Ii was ON the 18th of December that you
lost the money. Oh, | shall never forget
that date. 1t was on that date that |
contemplated suicide. | was short
s2O,u 10 meet my liabilities, maturing
on the 18Th. | was overwhelmed with
despair; the air of the office stitled me,
aud i rushed into the street. | had
hardly gone ten yards when my foot
struck something. 1t was your pocket.
book ! opened it, and the sight turned
me ciddy nd faint. Then commenced
within my breast one of those moral
struggles which, even 10 the cOnqueror,
is fearful but in which alas! | was miser-
ably yauqushed. The next day sats-
fed all claims upon me. To the world,
| was George lhornc, an honest, upright
man; to myself, ] was nothing better
than malelactor. You know the rest.
Through NY guilt you passed two weeks
of indescrlbable anguish. ! have since
endeavored to make reparation for the
misery caused; but also suffered, Moral
atonemeuts are the most cruel because
they are eternal. | have known and yet
feel tnat bitterness of explition. say,
my son. can YOU forgive my crimeG'
Could | forgive? ! looked at the pallid
face aud angOished eyes. What were my
suhcungs ot those two 4errible weeks,
compared to the secret pain and shame
this man had borne for years? this man;
the victim of one solitary deviation from
rectitude. so upright IN all else, and
whose life since had been one long
atonement l Grasped his hand, tears
filed my eyes.
"FMher" | cried, "Alice's father and
mine D is forgiven, forgotten. Do ! not
owe all The happiness OF my lite to that
same los pocket-bookp ~