Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1884-12-26
{ locked up amazed at the opening


nv breast, that she, too, mad
given away her heart, and 1 was only
TOO well pleased that no stranger had
won the precious gift.
In September tuey were married,
my son and the child of our adoption.
and | gave them house next our
own for a home, having old-fashioned
ideas about such matters, and bellev-
ing it is better for young married peo-
pie to live by themselves and assume
housekeeping cares.
The new home was gem OF neat
ness under Susie's dainty fingers, and
and the spirit of perfect love kept 1t
ever bright. Having been brother and
sister for many years, Albert and
Susie thoroughly understood each
others dispositions, and | have never
known domestic happiness more per-
feet than theirs.
Susie's first child, named for her
father, John Harmon, was two years
old, when one morning the mail
brought me letter 10 an unknown
hand froa Cincinnati. opened it,
and upon large sheet of paper found
written, in scrawling hand, three
lines:
DEAR SIR: Will you come to me at
AZ M street without letting Susie
know.
JOHN HARMON.
At first believed it hoax. John
had written a bold, clerk-like hand,
clear as print This was a scrawl,
struggling all over the paper, uneven
as the first penmanship of little
child.
But the more l pondered over the
matter the more l was inclined to
obey the summons. So pleading bust
ness, saying nothing of the letter to
any one, | left by the night train for
! Cincinnati.
| No. AZ Nj street | found to be a
boarding house for the poorest classes,
and in O. shabby room, half furnished,
/ found an aged, worn man, perfectly
blind, who rose to greet nae, sobblng.
Erred, 1 knew yoA would come;
why, old friend" | said, when
surprise and emotion would let me
speak, chow is this2 We thought you
were dead. !"
Does Susie think so2'
eyes. We all gave you up"
"Do not undeceive her, Fred l
meant to come back to her rich, also
to crafty every desire of her girlish
heart. Do not let her know that only
"A blind, sick wreck is left for her to
call father. Tell me of her, Fred.
Is she well2 Is she happJ2
She is both, John-a happy wife
and mother"
"Married2 My little Susie2"
Married to Albert, my son, OF
whom you may judge when | tell you
| folks say he is his father over again. .
II would ask no more for my child,
SAID John.
Then in answer to my anxious
questions he told me the story of the
years of silence. He was preparing to
pay us his promised visit when great
| fire broke out in San Francisco, that
ruined his employers for the time and
swept away row of buildings unin-
sured in which John had invested all
his savings. Worst of all, IN trying
to save the books of the firm John
was injured on the head by falling
beam and lay for months in hospl-
tai. When he SO far recovered as to
be discharged his mind was still i'm
pared, and he could not perform the
duties of clerk or superintendent,
while his health was too feeble for
manual labor.
II struggled for daily bread alone,
Fred. he told me; land when L re-
ceived your loving letters, and Susie's
| would not write, hoping to send bet
| ter tidings if l waited turn of for
tunes wheel. 1t never came, Fred.
left California three years ago and
came here, where was promised the
place of foreman in a great pork pack
ing house. l saved little money
and was hopiag fer better times.
when my health failed again. and
thls time with it my eye-sight.
hoped against hope, spending my saw
| ings to have the best advice, and not
until | was pronounced incurable
would | write to you. l want you to
take me to an asylum, Fred; and, as
| must be pauper patient, must 60
to my own town. You will take me,
| Fred9"
II will take you to an asylum,
John" promised.
"And Susie9 You will keep my
secret. You will not disturb Susie's
happinessG"
Il will not trouble Susie's happi-
ness" said.
Yet an hour later | was writing to
SUSIE, and | delayed our departure
from Cincinnati until an answer
came. II was the answer | expected
from the tender, loving heart, but l
said nothing of it to John.
Caring tenderly for his comfort, |
took him on his way homeward. 1t
was evening when we reached the
railway depot of our own town, and.
as we had been long cramped in the
car seats, proposed to walk home.
is it not too far off" John ask.
ed. II thought the asylum was a
long way from here"
"Oh, the whole place is changed
from the little village you lett" |
answered 1--WE have a great town
here now, ard your asylum is not
very far from here.
He let me lead him then willingly
enough, aud we were not long in
= lloIht. QUO "dS dApHC
la the cheerful sitting room as we
entered, but obeyed my motion for
silence as l placed John IN great
arm chair, after removing his hat
and coat He looked old and wretch
eddy worn, and his clothes were
shabby. yet Susie's soft eyes, misty
with tears, haG only love in their ex-
preston as she waited PEI mission TO
speak.
John" | said to him, IF l had
found you in a pleasant home, happy
and prosperous, and l knew that
Susie was poor, sick and blind, would
it have been kindly act for me to
hide her misfortune from you, end
passing by your home, to have placed
her in the care of charitable stran'
gers2'
Fred, you wosld never. have done
thatl" he said, much agitated.
"Never!' answered. You are
right But you, John, ask me to take
from Susie the happiness of kno wing
a fathers love, the sweet duty of car
! ing for n father'S affection -