Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-12-31


 thoughtful women smiled through tears that welled unbidden. A bent and crip- pied man, limping on crutches, had, as- sisted by strong armed neighbors, been propped comfortably in his leather cov- cred library chair, in that home where his Uncle Osric had died blessing him.
 Col Hendriksen's furlough was inde- finitely extended. He would sit for hours together, musing over the events that had caused his name to be honora- bly, mentioned with those highest in mil itary authority. When the big official document came by mail from Washing ton city, announcing his promotion for gallantry upon the field of Chickamauga, his eye kindled with the old enthusiasm.
 On New Years day, 1864, Gen. Bertel Hendriksen, in his new uniform, stand ing erect without his crutches, and with only perceptib1e halt in his step, re- ceived his good neighbors in the house with the double bay windows and real stained glass.
 Months rounded into years. Old war wounds were cauterized with the tears of loving sympathy. Waste places blOs- somed. The angel of peace spread its | white wings over nation tried in fire, and which had triumphantly burst the doors of its seething furnace. x*x
 was at and new and more spacious platform. Gen. Bertel Hendriksen was president l of the company. He was now on the shady side of fifty, with whitening hair and beard yet his form was unbent by l increasing years and his voice had lost none of its musical cadence. Mamma" said little Osric on the even- | ing of the last day of the third year since | his fathers death, i've are going to have l r1Nln T tNr
 "Why SOP asked Christine, looking up from treasure box that lay open in her lap.
 Because it is New Years. Then am | five years old, grandpa says, and we are to have a tiptop sleigh ride before din- ner."
 "You and grandpa" said his mother lstlessly.
 "An of us, mammal" replied Osric ''It won't be any fun if you and grandma don't go. I don't believe you care for New Years one bit"
 "Why, Osric!'' exclaimed Mrs. Robin son, chow can you think so? It is the anniversary of my darling's birth, and to me the most precious day of all the year, save onc."
 Here she sighed and gazed intently at a miniature in her hand. It was the l portrait of handsome, dark featured man, whose eyes were wonderfully like | Osric's.
 "Oh, mamma" cried the boy, ''let me see poor papa again!'
 | The picture was handed to him. After kissing it, the little fellow said:
 Mamma, my grandpa is a good man. He never blames my dear, dead papa but he says he was brave and true to what he thought was duty. l love my grandpa more than ever now"
 Christine caught the boy to her bosom | and they wept together-the child in | sympathy with his mothers gratitude or distress, he couldn't tell which.
 The day and the ride were splendid, as little Osric had promised. On reaching the new railway station Gen. Hendriksen told his driver to stop few minutes, as he had business in the cOmpany's office. | While his grandpa was inside the build ing Osric became greatly interested in a tall and distinguished looking man, who, pacing the platform, wrapped in a heavy fur trimmed top coat, was evidently waiting for the train. At last the gen tleman turned and looked at the sleigh and it's passengers. Then he resumed | his measured walk.
 Osric climbed nimbly down from his perch beside the driver and ran towards the stranger.
 "You're my papa, and you're not dead and never was. Come over to mamma and grandma. That's them!" said the little boy, pointing to the sleigh. The man heSitated moment, then stopped and held Osric up in his arms
 "Merciful heaven," he cried, it all comes back out of the shado+-s. My long, long dream is true! am homo at last, thank God!'
 The wondrous story flew like prairie fire through the village. Capt. Jas1 Robin son, living, in Elsinore was made a social lion. Gen. Hendriksen had found a son and his dear Christine's widowhood was ended. Mrs. Hendriksen's boy that was lost had come home again. Osric's father felt a parents joy. It was, as Jack said, the happiest New Years in all his life. What more could a man who had been dead three years and half be expected to say?
 So the bells rang, and the story was retold with all its changes.
 Capt John Robinson had been left for dead on the field of Gettysburg. It was nursing in a quiet Pennsylvania farm house. One day he was born to new life, with dream that haunted him, sleeping or waking. He had gone into the oil country and made money. Still the dream was a shadow, now light, now } dark. He wandered from place to place } aimlessly. The end of his dream came where his love began-in Elsinore, by the placid lakes.
 , Little Osric was his fathers valet and hero. He wanted him to go everywhere and let everybody see him. They are ) still visiting, although Osric is married and the soldier, who wouldn't stay 7 killed, is now called grandpa" 5 ''In tell you how I managed it, Der tel" said Osric recently to his own little five year old. q knew it was my papa as soon as I saw his eyes. They were in the picture. So just stepped up to him l and told the truth. Mamma had hus. l band and I splendid father, before grandma. who got her breath first, could say Jack Robinson"
 HENRY CLAY LUKENs. M keazssxsaH&@SN