The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-01-15
JOHNS DAUGHTER.

''YOu viii care for nv child. You
will not let my little one suffer?"
Ny old friend and college chum. John
Harmon, said this as he wrnng nv
hand. ! repeated my promise that in
my own home-nest, where there was a
nursery full of little ones, Susie Har-
mon should hold daughters place.
We were standing on the wharf wait
inc for the signal that it was time for
my friend to step aboard an outgoing
California steamer. He had lost his
wife within the year, and soon after
was beggared by fire that totally de-
strOyed the cotton mills in which he
had held the position of superintendent
for ten years. With his home desolate,
his purse empty, he resolved, as many
a man had before him, to seek his for
tune in the modern FL Dorado and dig
for gold in her mines.
The only draw back to this scheme
was the difficulty of taking his three
year-old daughter. who had been in the
care Of hired nurses since her mother
died. |, who shared every thought of
Johns mind, talked with my wife and
found her eagerly willing to take care
of the little one.
Il am sure loved Mary as well as
you love John" she said land there is
no one can have stronger claim upon
the child than we have"
So, sure of her cordial welcome in
our nursery, | made John the offer of a
home for his little one, and it was ac-
cepted as lovingly as it was offered
This care removed, my friend fastened
his preparations for departure, and !
accompanied him to New York and saw
him off.
The next morning Ireturned home to
find Susie almost inconsolable, CRYING
perpetually for papa to come to Su-
sic. !"
My wife was distracted at the failure
80 comfort this childish sorrow, and
our own three children looked on won
deringly at
Naughty Susie, who cried and cried,
after mamma told her to be quiet"
Fortunately Susie was accustomed to
see me, to snuggle in my arms when |
talked to John, to associate me with
her father, and she allowed me to COM
fort her. In time this violent grief
wore away, and the child became verv
happy in our care. Ny business, that
of a hardware merchant, being very
prosperous, we did not feel the addi-
tional expense of the child's support a
burden; and as the years wore by she
was as dear to Us as our own little
ones.
But she understood always that she
was not our child but had a dear faith
IL !
from her only to make fortune for
her. As soon as she was old enough
she had her father letters read to her
and her first efforts at penmanship
We're letters to Papa"
John wrote often for ten years. re-
counting his varying success. sometimes
sending money to buy presents for Su-
sic. He was winning fortune slowly,
not at the mines, where MS health broke
down, but in the employ of San Fran
cisco merchant and some speculations
in real estate.
He was not rich man, he wrote, af-
ter an absence of ten years, but pros
pering, when he proposed paying Us a
visit. He wrote hopefully of seeing his
child, perhaps of taking her home with
him, setting no definite time, but lead
INC us to expect soon to see him. Then
his letters ceased, and he did not come.
| wrote again and again. Susie wrote.
No answer came to either one or the
other. We did not know the name of
his employer, and after nearly two
years more passed we sadly thought he
must be dead.
1t might have seemed to many I'M
natural for Susie to grieve so deeply as
she did for n father almost unknown to
her in reality, but she was a girl of
most sensitive feelings, with a tender,
loving heart. and we had always kept
her father 5 name before her. striving
to win him place in her fondest afiiec-
ton. That we had succeeded only too
well was shown by her sorrow, when
week after week passed. and there was
no good news from California.
When we had really lost all hope it
became Susie's great pleasure to sit be-
side me and ask me again and again
for the stories | remembered of her
father boyhood and youth, his college
life, our many excursions, and, above
all, of his marriage and the gentle wife
and mother so early called to heaven.
She dearly loved those talks, and no
memories were more precious than my
description of her fathers pain in part
ing from her, and his desire to win
money in California only for her.
Time softened Susie's grief, and at
eighteen she was one of the sweetest,
most winning girls ever saw. With
out being a wonder of erudition, she
was well educated. had a fair musical
talent, and sweet, well cultivated
voice. She was tall and graceful, and
when she was introduced to society
with Joanna, my handsome brunette
daughter, both became popular.
Albert and VIII, my boys, We're older
than the girls; Albert in business with
me, and VIII at college the winter
when Joanna and Susie made their de-
but.
1t would take me quite too long to
tell OF the pleasures of the young folks
during this winter. but Joanna was won
from us by Cuban gentleman, and
Susie became, if possible, dearer than
ever.
Spring had come, when one evening
Albert came into my library, where |
was nodding over book, having work
ed busily all day. He fused about the
books in a nervous way. quite unlike
his usual quiet manner. and finally said,
abruptly:
Father, you have often said Susie is
as dear to you as one Of your own chill
dren.H
l looked up amazed at the opening
speech.
.'Well?' | asked.