Charlotte messenger. [volume] (Charlotte, Mecklenburg Co., N.C.) 1882-18??, 1883-03-31
. good little gal she is to come and see


81 like to come" said.
My father seemed in no hurry to go,
and said, at length:
"Rather lonely here by yourself,
isn't it, Mr.. Rogers?"
"Well, l dunno's I've got much to
complain of. Mrs. Simons, upstairs,
looks after things, and l tell her to
spend the money in the black teapot.
There's other folks worse off"
My father looked puzzled.
al declare, Mr.. Rogers, you've
known what trouble was. haven't you
See! How many years was your wife
laid up? And you've lost about all
your children, and now here you are
yourself"
Yes, yes," said the old man. "But
those amt the sort of things L try to
let my mind dwell on while I'm a-lay-
ing here. 1 try to count up my mer-
cies."
My father looked puzzled.
"Well, now, Mr.. Rogers, l think,
and my wife thinks that you ought to
go somewhere else"
81 amt got nowhere else to go, sir.
I'm all alone in the world. It's true,
what you say"
but, Mr.. Rogers, to be plain, you
know I'm one of the selectmen, and I'd
see that the town took care of you
better care than Mrs. Simons does"
81 dunno's | quite catch your mean
ing. sir. Does anybody find fault with
Mrs. Simons?"
"No, no, / don't mean that. l
mean we think you'd better go down
to Mr.. Miles to spend the winter. He
keeps the town farm, you know"
"You mean to the poorhouse, sir?
1 warn't very bright ter see."
The old man turned his faded eyes
imploringly up to my fathers face.
"Well, yes, that's what they call it,
though l must say l never quite liked
the name."
The old cobbler's face seemed to
grow white and aged before our very
eyes. With the instinct decently to
hide his trouble, he drew up the old
bedquilt with a tremulous hand and
turned his face to the wall.
81 dunno but I've asked too much,'
he said. in broken voice. "Pve sort
O hung onto the idee that should die
before 1 come ter that"
Lucy" said my father, "didn't l
hear somebody in the shop? Go and
see."
Two strangers had just entered the
door-a tall young man dressed in a
suit of plaid, and accompanied by a
pleasant-faced young woman in white
bonnet.
"Mr. Rogers is SICK" 1 said. "He
can't mend shoes now.'
"Sick, did you say he was? Where
is he?"
"He's in there. 1 don't believe he
wants anybody to come in"
The young man gave me queer
look.
81 guess you don't know who l am.
guess he'll be willing to see me-"
BY this time he stood in the door be-
tween the two rooms. Mr.. Rogers
face was turned away and my, father
was looking intently into the little
back yard. The stranger glanced un-
easily about and said not word. l
am sure it must have been relief to
him, as well as to me, when at last my
father turned suddenly round and
said:
"Why, who's this ?"
"It's' somebody come to see Mr..
Rogers answered, family.
.Don't you know me? Don't you
know me, father?" the stranger burst
out. Its me. It's Jim come back.
And out there's my wife. Come home
to you"
laugh now to think of the absurd
sense of relief this last revelation
caused me.
Jimmy! Come home !" the old
man murmured, in a dazed, scared
way. Il amt out Of my head. I'm
awake. l know what you're going
to do with me. You're going to take
me to the poorhouse."
"Take you to the poorhouse, father
What are you talking about? You're
going to my house. You are going to
live in style. No poorhouse about
that. Amt you glad to see mep Say,
Name, come in here and see my poor
old dad r.
There was moments silence.
Slowly, very slowly, the old man un-
derstood; slowly he raised himself in
bed, and, holding up his trembling
hand, said, solemnly:
"God be praised y
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