Connecticut western news., 1885-09-09
A Letter and a Telegram.

"I don't never waste words" said old MT. Brown, in hard, driving voice. ''and hain't good at letter writin', but I reckon this'n will cutP'
 "It's pity you writ it so hard, father" said his young daughter, trembling; "it'll hurt her to the heart; she didn't never mean to borry that $500, and then cheat you out O it" \ "She didn't, eh? Then why hain't the money back in my pocket, safe and soundl It's year last Christmas since she pestered me bout 1t, and I hain't seen hide nor hair ont yet; if that hain't a clear case O cheatin', Fanny, I'll like to know what ye call itl"
 The girl stopped churning a mo- ment. and wiped surreptitious tear from her eyelid before she answered.:
 "Call it nothing. father, but bad luck; when Sister Mary borryed that money to lift the mortgage, she ex- pected to pay it back; but you know as how Brother John he was took with the rheumatics, and the overflow came, and the crop was ruint and then she couldn't pay; that's all, and God knows it's enoughl''
 "Twasn't my fault" snapped her father, fiercely, as he pounded on the kitchen table to give vent to his an- ger. "I never put it in the agree ment to low for overfows, and rheu- matics, and sich like, and I never would ha' lent her the $500 if it hadn't been for your sniff1in' and pesterin' And now ye hear gal, not anuther dime O my earnins shall they ever smell, and I'll never forgive"
 The girl sprang up from the churn, crying, No, father, don't say it. don't, don't say 1t, father; you'll be sor- ry some day when it's too late; be- sides you're church member, you knowp'
 "You're right bout that" said MT. Brown, perversely; "Pm a church member, and don't owe nary person red cent, and the Bible says, 'an eye for an eye, and tooth for tooth, and I'm going to have ftp
 He pounded the table again with his fists, after fashion he had of wanting to pound something or some body when he felt particularly aggres- sive. But the sound of his voice had scarcely died away, when there came knock at the door, and one of those ominous, yellow envelopes, marked with the impress of the Western Un ion Telegram Company, was handed in. MT. Brown took it, and looked i over in helpless kind of fashion be fore breaking the seal. "How mucf to pay," he asked the boy, and passed over to him the change with tremb ling hand; though 1t was characteris tic of the man that even then, witl the knowledge that the telegram mus contain terrible news, he was carefu to count the dimes as they drop ped back into his pocket. Oh, thos cruel telegramsi Do the company ev or remorsefully count the breaking hearts that are left in the wake o their messengersp MT. Brown was hard man, and loved his money-bag over well. but somewhere beneath tn rough outward crusts there was al abiding affection for his children tha needed something like the stirring o the soil around the violet beds, to loos en the selfish bonds, and give hi love human voice. And when h lead these words, "Mary died thi evening; come at once," great, sud den anguish filled his breast, and s lently handing the dispatch to Fanny he walked from the kitchen and shu himself up in his own room, wher years before death had made sundr