The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1881-06-07

ed, and advanced directly towards her.
"Mother, Mr.. Burchard says that my
father wss-but, no, I cannot name it.
Father-my father-could never be 80
bad as thatl'
Pressing her hand to her side, Mrs.
Reed sank back in her chair.
One glance at his mothers pale face,
and Bernard threw himself upon his
knees and buried his face in her lap.
Mrs. Reed laid her trembling hands
upon that bowed head.
"My poor boy!"
Bernard lifted his face, vet with tears,
to those tender, compassionate eyes.
ale was unjustly accused, mother :
Oh surely he was innocent ?"
More tender and pitiful grew the
voice.
"My poor, poor 5oyr'
A pang of compunction smote Bern
ards heart as he glanced at the pale,
sorrowing face that bent over him.
"Forgive me, mother; you have su!-
fered much. I know, now, what 1t is
that has made your life 80 sorrowful.-
But why did you never tell me this 7"
at was your fathers wish that you
should be kept in ignorance of it as
long as possible"
A hard, bitter look came over Ber-
nard's face, such as his mother had new
er seen there before.
aHe knew that must hear OF it, that
it would be cast up at me as it has been
and will continue to be 30 as long as
live. 1t Was cruel in him to leave me,
his only son, heritage of shame like
this r.
"Hush, Bernard; you must not speak
/ of your father thus to me. He paid the
penalty of his sin, for sin it was; nor
would have you to consider it other.
wise. Though the world scorn and
condemn him, you, his son, and /, his
wife, must cast no reproach upon his
memory He used money that was not
bis, he betrayed the trust reposed in
him. want you to see the thing that
he did in all its blackness and moral de.
formity. But for him, the poor sinner,
let there be no bitter word, no harsh
Judgment, not from our lips, my son.
No man more truly repented, or tried
more earnestly to atone. No woman
ever had kinder husband. He loved
you, Bernard, and the bitterest drop in
his bitterest cup was the thought of the
stain that rested upon the name you
bear; his last Injunction to me was to so
teach and train you that you would re-
gard with horror the slightest approach
to the great error that has borne, and
still bears, such bitter fruit; his last
prayer that you might so live as to lift
the reproach from your name and his. !"
Rising to his feet, Bernard looked
sadly upon the speaker, from whose
eyes the tears we're falling fast.
"You have needed, that injunction
we'll, mother, as ! can testify, I shall not
forget yonr teachings. But If all are to
judgeme ss Mr.: Burchard does, what
will it avail !"
aThey will not. You will find few
men like him. He bears me personal
grudge, though / never wronged him.
No one can really harm you, Bernard.
but yourself. As for this, which so dis
couraqes and hinders you now, you
must live it down"
This was the last conversation that
Bernard had with his mother on the SUBJ
ject. The following night Mrs. Reed
was seized with hemorrhage Of the
lungs, and before the dawning OF an
other day the tired heart, which had
borne its burden 90 patiently, Was at
rest.
A few weeks later, Bernard and Mr..
Burchard met again.
= Bernard shrank before those keen,
critical eyes, which we're quick to note
the change in bis look and bearing.
.You found my words true p
81 found them true. But to condemn
the son for the fathers sin is cruel and
unjust, as You viii some day acknowl-
edge"
SIt is the way Of the world, boy
What can you do, single handed, against
the world :"
Between Bernard and that jeering
smile there dosted pale face, whose
calm, tender eyes looked beseechingly
into his. He raised hand upward, and
said
~ can live It downw
Twenty yesre later, there sat upon the
judicial bench Of New England city .
Judge 80 noted for his learning and in
tegrity that his fame went out through
all its length and breadth.
Few would have recognized 10 that
stately, digniied man, whom ell classes
delighted to honor, the poor, friendless
lad that We introduced to the reader ct
the commencement Of our story. And
yet so it was. Step by step, through
difficulties. and .discouragements that
would have daunted Q less brave and
resolute spirit, Bernard Reed had slow.
| ly fought his way upward until be stood
at the head OF his profession and had
won place among the mobiles Of the
land.
Blessed with the companionship Of 8
loved and loving wife, with happy chill
dran clustering about his knees, he had
not been less fortunate in bis private
than public life.
He did not forget in his prosperity
the trials and SORROWS Of his youth
apart from the legal honors be had wor
many lips praised, many hearts bles
him. Iphexible in the discharge OF bis
official duties, never forgetting, In veal
sympathy for the criminal, the good o
the community. whose faithful and hon
lored servant he was, no heart was more
quick to feel for the weak and erring, nc
hand more ready to lit them up, il suct
. thing was possible, to . better ant
purer life.
j One day Judge Reed led up the step,
Of his stately mansion q forlorn looking
boy, who clung sobbing to him. III
lentered room where his wife was cit
ting with her youngest child on he
knee.
"My love, q terrible thing happened
| in court to-day. One OF the prisoner
4 sentenced, the father Of this poor boy
1frenkied with shame and despair, sho
\ himself. / used to know the father o
! this unfortunate man, who lives In Nev
York, aad to whom l shall telegraph
This little fellow is nearly heart broken
and leave him for you to care for, an,
N comfert only as . mother can"