Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1881-10-08
large chest, the latter being mainly

!
me to substitute patchwork quil
for the white eounterpane on hi
bed; and spent one whole day rum
nlaging aucti0n-ro0mS to fin,
some old fashioned chintz to tax
the place of the pretty muslin cui
tains on which l had spent so mucl
time and labor.
I had taken an easy chair for hin
from the sitting room, but spying
one day an old Ieather-bottOme,
chair that belonged to my grand
father, he asked me tes excHang
with him, which was very glad Il
do.
Not long after, chest of drawer
that was my grandfather's found it
way back to its old place, togethe
with the quaint, brass-mounted mir
ror that always hung over it. S,
that at last the room looked very
much as it did before we rearrang
ed it with so much care and labor
I John and had quiet laugh ov
er it, but SO long as it suited it
present occupant we did not mind
and it seemed to suit him complete
| ly. He spent much of his time in
reading. No one called to see him
or wrote to him, though he receiv.
ed quantities of papers and maga.
zines.
1t was Margie who first suggested
that we invite him to take tea with
us one day, when we had some un-
/ usual delicacy-early strawberries,
| think.
"He must be very lonely, poor
man!' said my gentle-hearted sis
ter.
perhaps he doesn't have enough
to eat? He spoke about being poor,
you know"
After this, he dropped in OCCASION
ally evenings 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; fire.
quently inviting himself, 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.
cit is wrong" he said with a
grave shake OF the head. "Pm a
poor man, and ought to be more
prudent"
But he continued on the same
way; and we finally got so used to
his oddities of speech and action rs
to think little of them.
He and John were, apparently,
on the best of terms, and yet he was
always finding fault with him to
me.
"To think of MS taking entire
charge of his mother, when she has
other children, and sending money
to his brothers. widow, besidesp' he
said to me one day. "He is a poor
man and always will bel"
Now, l could never endure the
slightest reflection upon John, and
/ defended 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 / paused for want of
breath. "Not but what John is
good, but he is poor. | have heard
that thee refused Mr.. Hart, who is
worth thousands. What made thee
do such foolish thing as that, my
child?n
because 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 growing dusk, and the face
was partially averted, but / was al
most sure that his eyes were full of
tears.
Mr.. Thomas generally used plain
language, almost invariably so
when speaking to me or Margie,
and until | saw that he was regu-
lar attendant at ST. Luke's / suppos-
ed him to be a Quaker when i allu-
ded TO this impression he said:
II was brought up in that faith;
and it comes back to me now that
am growing old, and the end is
near.n
1t was nearer than thought. He
had been feeble all the winter,
though it seemed more like the
gradual loss of strength than the |
actual disease. In the early spring |
he was knocked down by runa-
way horse, sustaining some intern
al injury from which he never re-
John and / took turns in |
nursing him; it was pleasant, after
wards, to remember 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 began to talk, startling us not a |
little by his strange expressions and /
illusions
81 was born in this room," he
said, glancing around, sand | shall
die herep'
Thinking his mind was wander
ing, I laid my hand gently on his.
He smiled as he looked at me.
"Thee hast my mothers name,
Ruth, and her kind heart as well, I
but thy eyes are like thy fathers. He
has been here thanking me for pro-
viding for his orphan girls. This
was our room when we were boys
thee knows. Dear old Joe! before
the dawning Of another day we shall
meet.n
John and l looked at each other in
awe. Two years ago l
stood by my fathers dying bed;
was it the same mysterious shadow
that made their faceSlook SO strange
ly like?
The dying man continued, "Thy
father and l were brothers. Did he
never speak to thee of his brother
Tom, who forsook home and coun-
try because n girl, as false as fair,
broke her plighted trOth to wed a
richer suitor? You have both been
very kind to the old man that came
TO you as stranger. / have not
it, as the papers in my
lesk will show.
An examination of the papers al
uded to not only proved that my
poor uncle spoke truly, but, that he
lied in the possession of bonds and
stocks to the amount of five thOuS-
md pounds: "to be divided equally
80 ran the few lines that compris-
ad his will-between his two nieces,
Ruth and Margret Gray"
OF course John and / married.
His mother and Margie live with
is, and happier home it would be
aard to find.
THE Republican papers are fond
Of referring to the majority in the
sonofo hxy which fha TpmOprafS are +