The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1881-05-20
CLEVELAND, TENN, MAY 20, 1881.

home for me. for my parents had died
before first left it l called the desirc
1.-THE charm Of association, and II led me
to decide at once to run over to the
Quaker city.
"There, as / first went down Arch
street, my poor dog lost lIis wits and the
sober dignity Of his maturity. He had
remarkably fine scent, always knew
that; but no sooner had We turned into
that particular street than, with nose
close to the ground and ngid tail, be
ran zig-zag to and fro as though lie was
on the trail of an erratic fox. / called
to him, but he gave no heed. People
got out of his way. The gamins shout.
ed, and with wild, shrill bark. he sud
denly bounded into the doorway of a
large dry goods store. / bounded after
him in time to see him rush up TO a
lady in black who was examining some
BlpNto anu htntt ulbuliu htl WIN hh
of the most extravagant JOY. There are
tones that live without the aid of pho.
nographs. Roy! Roy! Dear old Roy (!
was all she said, but I'd have sworn the
voice was Jennie's if / heard it on the
summit of Mount Blanc. Awhile hand
was laid upon his head, and my ring was
on the hand"
He paused. "Yours? Sir, / hope
you did not claim it," said his practical
collocutor.
81 did, and the hand which wore II
just as 1 originally intended" Nor did
Alexander, in his hour of greatest con-
quest, ever smile more serene approval
of himself than our conductor at this
stage of his story.
"But the conduct of Fritz, and tho
lady's silence, and all the queer con.
comitants which exist only in fiction.
how do you reconcile them with an
'owr true tale said Ruth, the truth
loving.
Fritz was Roy, the Roy who had
often been caressed by Jennie before
his young master, Jennie's cousin, got
the gold fever, when / did, and came to
California never to return. Jennie had
written, but her letter never reached
me. She thought me dead. Why the
dog came to me, when his master died,
is one among the riddles of my life
which l will disentangle in the here
after"
"And to-day where is she ?"
lie stood waiting for the question,
"On our ranch near Sacramento, and ]
believe one of the happiest women in
the State, We have boy ten years
old whose name is Fritz, and all the
dearer for the sake of the old friend
who has long since gone where 1 hope
one day to meet the human of him.
wish you could stop off while and see
my wife. Queer, isn't it, that I should
have intruded this bit Of private history
upon you, but the truth is. Yes,
coming, I'll be with you again, ladies F"
A brakeman beckoned him inside, and
we had seen the last of our handsome
conductor.
The evening shadows had begun to
len9then. The setting sun had turned
the vast plain of the Sacramento valley
into field of the cloth of gold" and
the distant peaks Of the Sierra, clad III
their eternal SHOWS, but now rose-tinted
and glowing, seemed to cleave the azure
above them as with a wedge of burnish.
ed silver. 1t was starlight when we
reached the end of our car ride and
were registered for the night,
"The conductors story was q pleas.
ant little episode, Ruth, wasn't it? Dc
you believe it all happened?" l asked
Us leaned from my pillow to hers tC
cave a goodnight kiss on her round
check.
81 like Fritz" was her sleepy an.
swer. "Theres an instinct about some
dogs that the half of mankind can
neither appreciate nor attain. 1 trust a
man whom good dog loves."-San
Francisco Argond,a.