The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1888-12-08
THE MORGAN WILL.

but as ! had very little practice ant
found myself with plenty of time al
my hands, had got into the habi
of dropping in to chat with a news
dealer who kept a stand not far from
my Office. Old Bowls, as everybody
called him, dealt also in waste paper
and rags, which he sold to the paper
makers.
One evening he was sorting a lot Of
rubbish, when my practiced eyt
lighted on what appeared to be a
legal document, bound with blue
tape. I took it up, and saw that II
was marked "Last Will and Testa.
ment."
I opened it and commenced I'd
read:
In The name of God: Amen. Know all mer
hS these presents, that l, James Morgan. be
ing of sound mind and disposlng memory
do make and publish this my last will and
testament.
Whats that you say?" demanded
Bowls, as he dropped a handful Of
paper and looked up at me-
/ repeated what l had read.
"All right" he said. Now read
on, Squire"
81 give and bequeath to my adopt
ed daughter, Elizabeth Morgan, 9TH
erwise known as Elizabeth Summers,
all my PERSONAL and real property,
after the payment of my funeral ex-
penses and my just debts"
"Heavensl" exclaimed Bowles,
"that must be the will ofold Morgan,
who died four years ago-it was said,
intestate. He left not less than $780,
900, that all went to remote heirs,
though everybody expected it would
have been left to this very, Elizabeth
Summers, his adopted daughter"
"What has become of the adopted
daughter" I asked.
II do not know, but l think l can
find out"
"How much of this property is real
estate? and where is it situated?"
"Well, there is the Oakdale planta-
ton which lies about five miles out
from here, and is worth at least $780,
600. Then there are several houses
in town also, besides $25, 900 in
Government securities"
"Who is the relative that got the
property"
"Simon Skaggs. He lives out at
the Oakdale farm. l think he is a
second cousin to Mr.. Morgan
what kind of man is he?"
"a mean old skinf1int, or he would
never have taken the last cent from
that poor girl"
"Well," said I, 81 propose to take
this will home with me tonight and
examine it carefully. III find it all
right we'll hunt up the girl and re-
cover the property for her.
To this he assented, and, deposit
ing the document in my pocket, l
bade the old man goodnight and
returned to my Office, where l sleep.
The next afternoon went to Bowls
store. He was alone, waiting for me.
81 have found where the girl is" he
said, as soon as told him that the
willwas undoubtedly genuine. "She
lives about fifty miles off, in a little
place called Friendsville, quite up
among the mountains, on q wild hill
farm where things 60 on in the most
primitive manner. A distant rela-
tiye-an aunt three times removed,
very poor, but, it seems, not without
a heart-heard of her restitution,
and sent for her. An old lady who
used to know the girl and had her at
her house awhile after old Morgan's
death, happen to come here, and /
asked her if she knew where Elizabeth
Summers was"
81 will go down and see her to-mor-
row, said promptly"
"And bring her back with you,"
Bowls, as briskly. My
daughter and will give her q home.
Cad" he cried, rubbing his hands
enthusiastically, ''we'll be too much
for old Skaggs, after all.
1t was late the next afternoon
when I arrived at my destination,
having made the journey partly by
rail and partly by stage. The coach
put me down at a lonely crossroads,
from which I had about two miles to
walk.
ooh, yes-the Widow Benham,"
said the driver, pointing with his
whip, elves up yonder, just around
the point ofthe mountain. "You'llsee
the house in ten minutes or So"
1t was warm, sultry day in Au-
gust, with not breath of air STIR
ring. l soon caught sight of the
house-a plain, unpretending struct-
ure like SO many in that region.
When it was about 200 yards dis
tant the sound of falling water at
tracted me, apparently coming from
some precipitous rocks on the left.
As was thirsty ! went toward it.
As turned a corner of a cliff a hand
some girl, about 20 years Of age,
from q sort of a cave, bear
ing on her shoulder large water jar.
The lightness with which she stepped
from stone to stone across the brook,
the poise, as of some sylvan goddess,
with which she bore aloft the jar,
made me utter unconsciously an ex-
of surprise. Though she
was dressed in the coarsest home
spun and wore neither shoes nor
stockings, l forgot altogether the
LONELINESS of her apparel in the grace
Of her movements, the exquisite con-
tour Of her figure, and the beauty of
her expressive face, which was now
with bushes. Asmall dog,
a self-constituted protec-
tor, barked at me furiously as l ad-
hat in hand; for intuitively
| knew this must be my client.
My client it was. l lost no time in
explaining the object of my visit.
She was very much surprised, but,
after a moments hesitation, she said
with dignity:
Come up to the house, please, I
will consult my aunt. Down, Tip
down SIR"
The dog ceased barking at this
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