Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-06-18
FOR LOVES SAKE.

When john jackson returned, after
three years absence, to Wyeland, he
found that both his ancient home and
himself had undergone more changes
than he knew. The place struck upon
him with changed aspect, and had no
answering welcome to give that which
he extended to it, There were new
names above the low-b proved doors IN the
struggling High street, and new faces
beneath them. The deep peace OF the
once tranquil fields which ringed the lit
tie town was troubled by the incursions
of navigator and collier. Coal had been
found upon the Heath estate, and black
ened pit frames and heaps Of
unsightly refuse made hideous
The heart of rural solitude. The
purling brook in which he had
bathed as lad was now an evil-smell-
ing sewer. Many of his old acquaint-
ances, at whom his heart leaped, failed
TO recognize him, and were painfully in
different in their greetings when his
identity was recalled to their minds.
His old sweethearts were all either mar
ried OF engaged, and, oppressed by the
dignity of present or coming matron-
hood, would firt no more. Some were
even dead. All these things saddened
him, and the happy boyhood of three
short years ago seemed to be centuries
away.
81 really do feel dreadfully DID," he
said to his cousin Amy, as they sat to-
gether IN the dusk, I" quite patriarchal.
I must have known Adam and Noah, and
been a personal friend of Abraham,
only I've forgotten all about them.
Everything here is so altered both
place and people seem changed COM
pletely. As 1 remember myself, three
years ago, 81 was rather favorite here,
and now nobody seems to remember or
TO take any interest in me. I suppose
it is stupid, though natural, to expect to
find things as you left them"
"And do you find me changed ?"
asked Amy.
"More than anybody or anything
else"
"Not disagreeably, I hope ?"
"Not disagreeably at all. Quite the
contrary. You were girl when l left
you, and now you are a woman-and a
very pretty woman, too, Amy"
''Ah !' said the girl, with laugh and
half sigh, 'you are not changed, l
see."
~ am afraid I am, though answered
John. "The three years that have
made woman of you have made man
Of me. One is man at three and twen-
ty, suppose?"
81 suppose So" said Amy, with an
other sigh. "Ah the dear cid days
We shall never see them again, Jack !'
eve may see happier, Amy, though
they will be spent apart"
He could not see the panied look upon
his companions face as she looked to-
ward him through the gathering dusk,
and, in his distraction, did not notice
her quickened breathing.
"7Thy should they be spent apart %
she asked, presently. "Could not your
work be as well done here as in Lon
don?"
"Quite as we'll Perhaps better"
"Then why not stay? Oh, Jack,
don't refuse The house and the farm
are my own, now uncle has gone. You
know how welcome you are. have
more than I can ever want. Mr.. Samp-
son says the last years income was over
Six hundred. What can 1 do with all
that? Stay here. Jack, and let us re-
vive old times"
"No, Amy. Don'tthink me proud or
ungrateful. But L must not be pension
er even on your bounty, and that is what
it would"
slack !" said the girl, in a panied
tone.
"That is what it would be, Amy
there is no other name for it. No; I
must go back TO London and work. I
can see my way to bread and cheese
now, and shall get something better, I
hope, in a little time"
The girl rose from her seat and paced
the room.
"Jack," she broke out passionately,
st can not bear it. When I think of
you toiling and shaving for bare life in
London while I live in comfort here,
and every crust eat and every thread I
wear bought by money that should be
yours, I feel as if should go mad with
shame and anger. 1t is shameful
What right had your father to beggar
you to make me rich? [ can't live here,
and won't. I'll go away and work, as
you do"
"You are far too sensible, Amy, am
sure, to do anything so ridiculous. And
whatever may have been my fathers
feelings regarding me, L believe he did
the best thing possible in leaving the
farm to you. Nothing but poverty
would ever have made me work. I am
of some use in the world as it is, and
shall be more some day."
The girl returned to her seat, and
was silent for some little time. Then
she asked:
"Tel me your plans and your life in
London"
"There is not much to tell. My
plans are simply to go on working till I
can get comfortable living for myself.
My life is happy enough. have at
least learned the great secret that the
man who works is happier than the man
who doesn't. I like my work, and I
think I shall succeed in it."
"What do you mean by succeed?"
''I think I shall make little name
for myself and be well thought OF by my
fellow-workers in time, and that I shall
be able to lead my own life in my own
way"
"Your ambition is more modest than
it used to be, Jack"