Connecticut western news., 1882-01-25

wait long enough to get to place of safety before opening it. At last, in a little ice cream saloon, I sat behind a table shiny with oil-cloth, and plenti- fully adorned with the marks of saucer bottoms, and opened the note. It be- gan thus:
 ried. God bless him it is good match, had not done what did, but how could his fathers crime9 And now I'd rather die than have him know; but my heart aches, my heart aches. No, no, no, I say again, never tell him. I am sick with sorrow and fear. Write and tell me you'll never tell. Do you remember my number? It is twenty, Blooming Road. EL1zABE MARLEY"
 I had at last, my mothers dwelling place, and clew to her conduct. My father had in some way shamed us both, but now I would go to her. we would know each other, and this good mother.
 Blooming Road was in the suburbs of our city. She was near me, tLen-only an hour or two lay between us. flew home, dressed myself and called cab. had not patience to walk. As I drove on I pictured my mother-a graceful lady in middle life; her hair touched with gray; her smile sad, though sweet. There was a picture in the doctors drawing-room which fancied resem- bled her--the portrait of an English duchess.
 Blooming Road, number twenty" cried the cabman, opening the door.
 stepped out and looked about me. Number twenty was plain, two -roomed cottage, with long shed attached. I had always believed my mother to be rich-could this be her home? I touched the handle of the little bell. A girl with her sleeves rolled up from her wet arms and rubber apron on opened the door.
 ''Mrs. Varley," I asked, s'does she live here p
 "I'll call her," said the girl, and left me alone and heard her voice re- beating the name in the distance.
 Then another vo1ce, crying, 'Yes, I'm coming" and quick step approach ing, and before me stood old Aunt Betsy, and on the instant the truth rushed upon me, and cried out
 ':.Mother P
 There was my mother, little and wrinkled, and strong in arm, with black eyes and red cheeks, and her calico dress pinned up over her flannel petit coat and when said ''Mother P she shut the door and held up both her hands, and said, in shrill whisper:
 "Hush! hush! hushl Who told you Keep it to yourself. You're gentle man. You're to marry MT. Rushton's girl. Don't say that again. Go away; go away. And keep it secret, as will. Go!'
 But took her hand and drew her to me.
 "Mother, why did you do this? What did my father do ?" asked.
 ''He was porter in bank, Arthur" SQ0 answered.. 10 rOOD0Q It. lie O10Q in prison. He came near being hung, for he killed man trying to get away. And I thought I'd spare my boy the shame, and I sent you to the doctors school. I've made money, lad, but a laundry is not genteel, know it well. Think of Miss Rushton. Co.,"
 But I answered: "Kiss me, mother. I shall tell Ada Rushton the truth, and you shall toll for me no more."
 No, Ada Rushton did not marry me, and some of my fine friends dropped off, but bore it very we'll. That is fifteen years ago, and am forty now but yes. terday married, and who so glad as my old mother, who kissed me tenderly on my wedding morning and said:
 ''She's the wife I'd choose for you, Arthur, and not proud, insolent thing like that Miss Rushton. And you are happy, dear ?"
 And I answered truly: sNo happier man under the sun, mother. "-Ledger.