Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1886-03-04


your old place, and double your pay al
SO. in consideration of my error
Then, for the first time, did the poor
victim arouse from his lethargy.
viii you give me back my dead
mother - he demanded, fixing his eyes,
in which now glittered steely light,
upon those of his employer.
NO, cannot do that replied the
merchant, still proiferinI his hand, but
| will repair, So far rs lies i'll my power,
the wrong have done you. Let us be
friends
Never y exclaimed the youth, the
steely glitter increasing to glare.
'Never will be friends with my moth
er's murderer. There will be grave
between us-a grave that l Will
some time avenge.'
And he brushed by the merchant and
was lost in the throng.
Twenty years had passed away.
bringing its usual vicisSitudes and
changes,
The great house of Glendon & Co.
had gone down in the midst of terri
BILE financial panic, such as frequently
sweep over the country, and Mr. Glen
don was. a poor man, dependant for
his daily bread upon the labors Of his
son, who held a clerkship in the rapid
ly rising establishment of Sanderson u
Allen.
But suddenly this support to his de-
clining years seemed about to be taken
away.
Roger Glendon was accused of for
gerry. 1t cannot be true the old mer-
chant repeated to himself; yet l will so
and See.'
And he hastened to the counting
room of his sons employers.
He found the senior partner of the
| firm alone.
Il have called he said, 'in relatio II
to the reported accusation against my
| son. lell me, Is III True
The gentleman gave great start of
surprise, when he began to speak, but
when he had concluded, arose and
handed him some papers without a
word
In them he discovered ample evidence
that would convict his son.
Spare him y he pleaded, as he return
ed the papers. Spare him, for I am
sure nover meant to wrong you, and
he will some time pay you 20 the utter
most farthing. BE merciful to my
gray hairs, sir-he is all the support
and dependence of my declining years
and let them not be brought in sor-
row to the grave.
Not another word, sir was Mr..
Sanderson's reply. Il wish tc hear nc
more. Your son will not suffer unjust.
ly, as | once did
Something in the speakers tone ar.
rested the old mans attention, and he
gazed at him fxedly.
'Do you know me, sir - inquired the
rich merchant.
Il think have seen you somewhere,
replied his petitioner, but where,
cannot recall to my mlnd.'
Don't you remember that scene in
the police court room years ago when
the mother of an innocent boy, fel
dead with surprise and horror at be
holding her son in such a place
Don't you know William Sanderson?'
The old man uttered a gasping cry
and tottered back against the wall.
Heaven help me!' lie moaned, 'fol
your hour of vengeance has come al
last
Can you call on heaven for help !?
demanded the merchant. The Book
says, With what measure ye mete il
shall be measured to you again, does il
not p
His visitor answered not a word. but
appeared entirely overcome with his
weight of agony.
William SandersOn rested his hea(
upon his hand "A moment in thought.
Then he grasped the papers, ant
walking to the old mans side passet
them into his hands.
Take them, he said, the steely glare
in his eye giving place to softer light
take them and destroy them. They
are the only evidence of your sons
crime
The old merchant gaze joyful gasp
DO you mean it p he cried, clutch
ing them firmly.
4 mean so,' replied William Sander
son, nervously.
Then you forego your. .vengence p
Yes l will restore your son to you
free from every taint upon his name
I will keep him in my counting-room
am not afraid to trust him now. TO
he will be as grateful to me as | SHOULD
have been to you, had you chosen tC
spare me. Good day.
And William Sanderson had comp,e
ted his revenge.
In 1913 there was built in Wa
than, Mass mill believed to have
, been the first in the w0rl6 which com