Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1885-10-01

4
reproacb, and faithful, good wife for
three years. You will not die unfor-
| giving!
81 have made nay will. 1t is here,
and he opened drawer IN the table
| beside him. ''There are some legacies
but the bulk of NV fortune goes to
found library at = pham, this house
to be used for the purpose. Ned will
| have $500"
"On Simon destroy that will"
"When Edward defied me, when he
chung to the girl [ detested and secret
" married her, | told him he was my
son nc longer. He has lived for three
years away from me,
Starving upon clerks salary when
he had passed twenty-five years of his
life IN luxury"
HE made his choicem
ct remember" Matte said, in a
dreamy voice, as if she had forgotten
her listener, the day Ned was born
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 bad Mary's mouth
SO sensitive and tender, quivering
with every emotion. [ remember
when he was a week old, I had him
in the nursery when you came IN.
staggering like a 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
boy ,"
4 long quivering sigh broke from
| the invalid's lips.
81 can see him as he was at 3 years
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 delirious 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"
"Mattie, you torture me I can not
bear this!" the sick man murmured
| hoarsely.
81 was at my window one morning,
Matte said, still in the sane even
montone, "Whe2 a carriage dashed
up the road with a pair Of runaway
horses. The reins were in the road,
and there was no controI over the ter
riied animals, who dashed forward,
the carriage swaying 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 beyond,
thrown from his seat half intoxicated
and badly injured, While looked
paralyzed with horror, 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
when 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 gitated features. Matte
took from her pocket a letter, and
read:
''MY DEAR AUNT MATTE: Lucy is
about again, sand; our boy is doing
finely. He is a thorough Hartwright
with my dear fathers eyes. and we
have had him christened Simon. ]
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 letters? Iweary for
his forgiveness! I 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 7 forgive you
''If you knew Lucy in her life here,
II you could see now 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,
] am sorry married herv I am not:
I never can be sorry for that, yet I dc
sorrow over my fathers anger.
"Will you not see him for me, plead
for me? Tell him I care nothing fol
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 ne loves nae
| again! Plead for me, Aunt Matte.
He must be lonely, and my hearr
aches for his loneliness.
Lucy sends love and this tiny lock
of young Simon's hair Lovingly.
''Ned."
'iSrmon 80