Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1885-10-01

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three years. You will not die unfor-
giving
81 have made my will. II is here,
and he opened a drawer in the table
beside him. There are some legacies
but the bulk of nav fortune goss To
found library at Upham, this house
to be used for the purpose Ned will
have $500"
"On Simon destroy that will y
when Edward de6ed me, when he
chung to the girl / detested and secret
ly marie d her, l told him he was ms
son no longer. He has lived for three
years away from ME,
Starving upon a clerk salary when
he had passed twenty two years of mis-
life in luxury"
He made his choicew
81 remember Matte said, IN a
dreamy voice, as if she had forgotten
her listener, the day Ned was horn
poor Mary lay so i'll we feared she
must die, while Others were busy a.
round her bed the wee babe was
brought to me. He was like you,
Simon with great dark eyes and a
row, and yet he had Mary's mouth
so sensitive and tender. quivering
with every emotion. remember
when he was week old, / had him
in the nursery when you came in,
staggering like man under heavy
burden, till you fell on your knees be-
side nae to Sob
"'God has taken Mary, but he has
! left me my boy Thank God for my
bog ?
A long quivering sigh broke from
the invalid's lips.
Il can see him as he was at 8 FEARS
old, with his brown curlS shining
like satin, falling over his little vel
vet coat. his soft round cheeks rosy
with health, and his eyes full of
frank, bright intellect. He was was
not quite 4 when he had the scarf ct
fever. How many nights you walked
with him up and down in your arms,
when the fever would not let him
sleep; how many days you sat beside
him calming the @elirious fancies of
his baby brain till the day that life
giving sleep came TO restore him, and
again you thanked God for your boys
life"
Matte, you torture mel l can not
bear this!n the sick man murmured
hoarsety.
II vas at my window one morning,
Matte said, still in the same even
montone, "When a carriage dashed
up the road with pair of runaway
horses. The reins were in the road,
and there was no controi over the ter
rifed animals, who dashed forward,
| the carriage swayine heavily from
side to side, threatening every mo
ment to be dashed to pieces. Inside a
man tried vainly to open the doors,
The driver lay upon the road beyoad,
! thrown from his seat half intoxicated
and badly injured, While l looked
paralyZed with horror, a mere boy,
not IS, ran from my door into tn g
road, threw himself before the horses,
battled with them as they reared and
and plunged threatening every mo
ment to dash him to pieces, and held
them until other aid came. Men ran
to help, and the STRIPPING opened the
door of the carriage when the horses
were quiet to release his father. The
| blood was streaming from a great
cash in his face, but he never needed
VIXEN his father held him in his close
embrace, thanking him for his life.
Again Simon, heard you thank God
| That in saving your life your boy had
not lost his own.
There was deep silence in the room
as Matte spoke the last words. ST.
mon Hartwrights face was hidden,
but his hands trembled, covers
ing the agitated features. Matte
took from her pocket letter, and
read
"MY DEAR AUNT MATTE; Lucy is
about again, land -FOUR boy is doing
finely. He is thorough cartwright
with my dear fathers eyes. and we
have had him christened Simon. l
wrote TO my father, but
again nay letter has come
back to me unopened. How can |
soften his heart toward me if he will
never read my lettersl / weary for
his forgiveness! [ am doing well here
and my salary will allow some little
comforts for Lucy and the boy beside
mere necessities; but long to hear
my fathee say, Ned ! forgive you
'If you knew Lucy in her life here,
if you could see how patiently she
bears every privation, how loving she
is when we are still SO poor, how care
full she is never To reproach me for
what she has suffered, you would not
wonder that / can not say; Father,
I am sorry I married herr am not
/ never can be sorry for that, yet do
sorrow over my fathers anger.
evil you not see him for me, plead
for me2 Tell him ! care nothing for
his wealth; we can live happily in our
humble fashion, but long unutteraly
to hear his voice in forgiveness, to
clasp his hand, TO know he loves me
Fagainl Plead for me, Aunt Matte.
He must be lonely, and my heart
aches for his loneliness.
Lucy sends love and this tiny lock
Of young Simon's hair Lovingly.
Ned. "
"Simon?1
Matties voice was solemn in its
earnest tone of pleading.