Connecticut western news., 1882-08-09

near CQ6uC0 Wu6bA0I LID A4FCN O@ SeASN~ Two weeks passed on.
 The doctor came and went each day, the neighbors far and near volunteered their services-all except Squire Seaton, who lived his usual secluded life in his great mansion, buried in his bookss and knew nothing of the stranger who lay at deaths door.
 "Poor boyl Alice, wish you would go in and sit beside him awhile" said Mrs. Derwent, on the first evening of the third week of illness ''He is asleep | now. If he awakes you can call me. If we only knew his people I would send for them. I fear he will not last long,"
 Alice crept in, and took her place in the nurse's chair.
 Tears of pity dimmed her eyes as she looked at the wasted figure in the bed the pale, thin face, the fast-closed eyes, the hollow temples under the waving brown hair.
 "I wish his mother or father would come P she said aloud. | The n0aVy IluS Opeuou.
 The deep-blue eyes looked at her inn ploringly.
 "My father p whispered the sick man. Bring him-tell him-I was coming -Seaton-Seaton-
 The faint voice died away-the eyes again were closed.
 Alice stood an instant like one struck dumb. ..... She had never noticed the resemblance before; but now she could trace the firm lines of the old Squire's counte- nance in that pale, pinched face.
 'Sleeping still2 That is good sign, D said her mother, coming in, ready to resume her place for the night.
 Alice hesitated moment.
 Never before had she acted by or for herself in any matter of moment.
 But the sound of voices might arouse the slumberer.
 Her father and Tom had gons on a household errand to the village; there was no one else to consult.
 Finally she drew on her waterproof, drew it's hood over her head, and sped across the valley to Squire Seaton's house.
 Squire Seaton looked up from his book, and his usual pallor increased to a ghastly hue as he listened to the breathless girl.
 s'My sonny boy-my Philip at your fathers house2 And dying, you fear Asking for me ? Coming 10 me :? Wait, child; I'll go with you, of course-Ill go to my poor boyl But-the room is turning round-I think I must be going blind P
 Alice sprang to his side. The gray head fell on her shoulder. Tenderly she smoothed the silvery hair away from the high forehead and bathed the , pale face with the cold water which the frightened servant brought. The old man revived to find her ministering to him thus.
 It was almost like father and daughter that they took their way across the val. ley together, he leaning on her arm and listening greedilyeto all that she could tell him of his long g-absent, long -mourned
 son.
 'sIt is my fathers voice! hear his
 stepl I shall get we'll, if he will only
 forgive mel" said the invalid, greatly to Mrs. Derwent's surprise. as the house-door softly opened to strangers touch.
 He struggled up from his pillows, re I sisting her attempt to sooth him.
 ''Father, I am sorry-fcrgive me ? . he said, in frmer voice, as Alice on r tered, followed by the aged man. And then Squire Seaton came feebl, . but swiftly into the room and held hi 1 son to his heart, sobbing aloud witt l gratitude and joy, while Alice drew he n bewildered mother into the kitchen an' t told her of her expedition to the hous 9 of the lonely millionaire. 8 Joy seldom kills, and there is re 7 vivifying power in love and happiness - combined far beyond the skill of al - earthly physicians or the virtue of al r earthly drugs.
 So it happened that as the sprin months deepened into summer Phii] e Seaton, strong and we'll once more d stood beside bonny Alice under tn it porch one evening to see the six o'cloc e express flash by. d In Boston, when was utterly recE d less and utterly penniless, too, lette is from my father reached me" he said i
 low tone. cit was so kind, so sai le that it seemed to turn me from my ev to course in moment. Just as was st g of to return to my father, like th
 prodigal son. And God led me here IS There was long silence; the su
 sank out of sight behind the moul It tains: the first chill of. evening was i IT the air.
 Id In my anger l swore that woul
 never enter the door of my father if home" the young man went on. "B1 ," I may now enter, purified, repentan 70 forgiven, if only the good angel of n ,e new life will go with me. Will sh D. Alice" ]" le He took her hand. a. "But your father r stammered Alic Id "I am not worthy of your love in al lg way; but my father begs you to be | st daughter, Alice. Say yesl' .. fe And so the greatest fortune of h II life-the brightest happiness of bo
 their ives-came in that evening tral m
 G7PsrEs.-The very few real gypsi d. in this country always deny that tn