Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1885-10-08

good. And then there was that an
kind letter. Did his child read those
cruel words with the dying light in her
eyes, or would it be left for the strick-
en- husband to be treated TO the short,
stern homily
lie went back to the kitchen, where
Fanny sat crying over the telegi am.
"Lock up the house," he said in hur-
ried way, for fear his voice would falt-
er "we'll 60 at once. III hitch up
while ye get ready" And when they
had staI ted on their long journey he
quite broke down in talking over the
past and telling Fanny little things
here and there that no one would have
supposed he had remembered.
"Maiy was allus dutlful da'arter,"
he said, putting into broken sentences
the griet and remorse that overwhelm-
ed him "after her ma died, and she
wasn't knee-high to duck, she was
like second pairent to the little uns !;
nussed 'em through the measles. and
when they was well, took it herself,
and laid as quiet on the bed for fear o.
giving trouble as IL she warn't a
child"
he didn't tell her of how, when the
second Mrs. Brown was installed as
mistress, Mary became the drudge and
maid of.all work. and was nurse to a
halr.dozen more little Browns, who,
like their mother, ruled her with rod
of iron. Nor of Mary's marriage with
a sturdy, young fellow. W no, for the
lack of little timely help, and the
pressure of large family, was kept
with his nose to the perpetual grind
stone. He did not tell how Mary
pinched and worked, ,and sat up till late
hours, and struggled to help her family,
until in consequence of DOCTORS bills
and babies, and poor crops, John was
forced to give mortgage on his house,
when her (the father might have lifted
them out of their poverty. He might
even have given them better house
the Oldest inhabitant could not remem.
ber when the ugly, lamshackle affair
had been built. Some ancient ances-
tors had put up couple of rooms, then
added on few more, until, what with
patching and propping up, Johns in
heritance was an offence to the eye.
Mr.. Brown thought bitterly of all this
through the long journey. Too late,
too late seemed written in words of
fire on every tree and shrub. At last
the house was in sight a poor, miser-
able place enough, but now, in the
month of June, sweet with climbing
roses and honeysuckle that the mis-
tress's hand had trained to the porch.
"Who. 90, Dandy" The children
were in the yard with a shout they
ran to the gate, and as the old horse
stopped, somebody rushed down the
steps, and with a cry, "Why father,
why Fanny" Mary in her famous
clean calico and apron, and cheeks like
roses, with the pleasure and excitement
OF the visit, was in her fathers arms
her father, who held her as he had new
or done before, and kissed her with the
tears running down his face.
"My child" he said presently, "you
were dead, and are alive again. Thank
God I"
"Why, father ?" questioned Mary
again, "what ON earth is the matter ?"
And she looked with frightened gaze at
her sister, vaguely wondering il her
father were stricken with some sudden
insanity. For answer, Fanny drew out
the telegram from her POCKET, and gave
it to Mary.
"It's all wonderful mistake" ex.
claimed the eleer woman, glancing it
over, and hugging father and sister ex-
citedly again. I'VE have a neighbor,
Mrs. Mary Harris, who died last even
ing she has brother living some
where near you, and 10y the way, his
name is Brown-Richard Brown
your name father. They carried you
the telegram instead of him. What a
pity he won't hear Of it, so as to get
there 20 the burying.''
And so, between hyster ical sobs and
smiles, and everybody talking at once,
and asking questions that no one
dreamed Of answering, they went in
under the bower of roses and honey
suckle. a1d presently John hobbled
from the field on crutches, and the story
was told all over again.
And when Mary slipped out into the
kitchen to get an early supper, old Mr..
Brown followed here and there, and
she was folded tight in her fathers
arms again, while the tears streamed
down both their faces. 1t was as If
she had been raised from the dead.
my child" whispered the. old man,
81 hain't been the best OF fathers to
ye; ha' shut my eyes and my heart
when ought to ha' been the one to
help ye never ye mind bout that
money /; don't We say one word bout
it,. and we'll knock this old rattletrap
down to morrow. and I'll show ye how
to build a house ~
And so he did, and very comforta-
BILE house 1t was, where John did not
have to stoop when he went in and out
of doors. And would you believe it
The letter, all the more harsh for being
80 brief, never did reach its destina-