Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1882-09-09

''Do not speak of him !" he said
vehemently. as he rose and walked
about. Like father like son 7 that
what / have to remember him by.
never saw him, and don't know much o
him; maybe, after all, he wasn't as bat
as was told, he added in softer tone
81 am not one to Judge you too
severely, young man," said he, rs the
other sat down. "What's your name p
."Amos Sethwell," the other replied
and as he raised his eyes, he fancied he
saw q curious spasm contrast the rigid
line of the deacon's mouth.
A long silence ensued. The young
man gazed despondinely in the fire,
the deacon at the cleaning peaks. His
thoughts wandered back to his native
land, and it seemed but yesterday that
he entered an empty house and took up
a note lying on a table which told him
that his wife had left him forever, and
that she did not wish his unborn child
brought under his evil influence.
Perhaps it had needed some shock,
sharp and sudden like this, to check
the downward course of his life and
rouse his better instincts. He was not
one, however, to steer a middle course
---he must be one thing or the other
and, as he shook the dust of his native
place from his feet, SO also he cast away
the shackles of his ill-spent life, and be.
came instead cold, silent man, shut
up in his shell of stern self-reliauca.
Perhaps the sight of this young man,
already on the downward path, stirred
the we'll of human kindness hidden so
deep IN the old deacon's breast that no
sign of it ever reached his impossible
face, for, when he at length spoke, 1t
was in tone very different from his
usual harsh one.
Amos, go into the tent and lie down
on my rugs. l will join you presently"
Deacon" said the other, slowly, as
he arose, 81 didn't expect any such
kindness from you of all men. II
thank you" and breaking off lie hur-
ried into the tent.
1t was late when the tired sleeper felt
hand upon his shoulder the next
morning, and starting up saw the dea-
con bending over him.
81 see you have rested well. Come,
now, and have some breakfast.
Their meal being over, the deacon
addressed him again, speaking slowly,
as If he had some preconceived purpose.
"Amos, mine is and has been Il lonely
life for long time; but such as it is,
will you share it with me ?"
Do you really mean to give me a
show, deacon ?" asked the other, with a
Frightening face.
6 do, and here is my hand upon it. "
From that day the two worked togeth-
er on the hill side, the deacon setting
the example of patient, persevering Ia
Dor, which the other was not slow to
follow. The old man noted this with
silent satisfaction, and saw how the ex-
ercise III the bracing mountain air filled
out the hollows in the younger face, as
it erased the marks of dissipation.
Gradually the two we're drawn to-
gether by bond OF affection, all the
stronger for its undemonstrativeness for
the younger man became imbued with
the silent ways of the older, and uncon-
sciously fell into them himself. Yet
there were times when, sitting by the
fire before the tent, the two spoke of
the results of their lahors and their
hopes of "striking it, aud OF how, in
that event, their future lives should be
shaped, for it was tacitly understood
they were to be spent together.
"Amos," said the deocon, one even
ing, 81 am expecting the final payment
on the Green Mountain Boy 1t
ought to come on the coach day after
tomorrow, and as we are running short
in the grub line, suppose we go to the
city, get the money, and lay in sup
ply?"
"As you will, deacon"
And SO in the morning they set ont
with the burro. Toward evening, as
they drew near the city, Amos began to
be uneasy.
Deacon" said he at length, "you
have never thought that 1t might get us
both into trouble if / was seen in the
city after-what / told you the first
night, You remember" ?"
"True, boy, had forgotten about
it."
cit would be best, Think" said
Amos, "for me to camp tonight in
this little gulch off the trail. You can
go to the city, and will wait your re-
turn in the morning"
So they separated, and the deacon
went on by himself. It was late when
he arrived, but the express office was
still open, pending the arrival of the
coach. After having waited some time
for its coming, he walked away and
sought lodgings for the night.
The next morning he found the city
in excitement. The incoming coach
had been "held up" the night before
by single road agent, and the treasure
box rified of its contents, and parties
were even now in search Of the deprada.
tor. Hurrying to the express office the
deacon learned that it was true, and
that his expected package had been
taken with the rest.
The loss bore hard upon the deacon,
for 1t was all he had save the little now
IN his possession. This he now spent
in provisions, and set ont to join his
companion.
Arrived at the spot where the two had
parted, he found no one. Vainly he
shouted and waited; there was no re-
sponse.
He has gotten tired of waiting and
returned alone to the tent" thought
the deacon, and, so thinking, hurried on
to the tent also. But he was again dis
appointed-there was no one there.
Mechanically the deacon drew off the
pack and released the burrO to Craze
Then, for the first time, he began tc
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