Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1889-06-06

| " confronted Dy llCJle man, sOmeWlldl
older than himself, whose eyes blazed
with sudden fury as they rested on
HIM.
What do you want here-how dare
you come herev he cried, his voice
husky with rage.
SAM replied the intruder, softly I
didn't come to quarrel with ye. l come
to tell ye that mebbe was part in the
wrong myself, an want to forgive and
be forgiven The trembling voice was
interrupted here by sharp call from
the back of the house.
Sam Peters, you come back here an
finish wipin' them dishes-quick, now!'
'Ye amt happy here, brother Sam,
continued Uncle Judson, as he was
called by old and young for miles
around. 'Ye know ye amt. Come
home to me an Mirry, an let's spend
the rest Of our days together in peace
an quiet. Won't you let bygones be
bygones, brother Sam? I've got let
ter here want ye to read. Twelve
found where my boys buried.
Up to this point the little man had
kept silence, not because he wanted TO
hear what was said, but because his
tongue was powerless to utter the burn
ing thoughts that thronged his brain.
Now, however. he interrupted.
DO you think that l would live in
your house and eat your bread when it
is through you that l am childless to.
day? My boy would never have taken
sides against his old father if you had
not persuaded him to It,
Sam
Fifteen years have searched in vain
until to-day, that might know when
and how he died, and have the poor
consolation OF mourning over his grave.
And now you ask me to forget my son
and join hands with you-never Go
and mourn over your dead as | shall
over mine-alone. No, no; | will not
hear your The other attempted to
speak, but his brother hastily entered
the house, closing and bolting the door.
4 am glad l didn't tell him how Sam
died. thought Uncle Judson, YEARLY,
as he turned his face homeward. Mir
ry met him at the door with kiss and
a look of concern for his sad face.
is anything the matter, father ? she
asked. He did not answer for few
moments, then he said I am gong to
Nashville tonight, Mirry.'
Tonight, father-and alone" she
cried, alarmed.
Yes, dear-alone, 1 will tell you
when | come back 1t seemed to HIM
that it must be his sacred right to weep
first and alone over his sons grave af-
forwards he would tell her.
All that day Samuel Peters thoughts
were struggling with each other as he
silently performed the tasks set for him
by his capable daughter in-law and
listened without retort to her sharp
chidings. Many times that day he Sc.
cretly drew out and read a crumpled
letter that nelghbor Gresham had left
him that morning. Finally Randy
sharp eyes discovered it.
What ye got there:' she demanded
Nothing, Randy, nothing, the old
man replied quickly, crowding the let,
ter into his pocket.
'Giv't ter me- she said, holding out
her hand. He clutched his letter still
more tightly and looked helplessly
around then, seeing no other way OF
saving it, he fled up the crooked stair
way to his bare room locking the door
after him.
From his secret hiding place in the
mattress he took the scanty savings OF
years.
I'll go in the morning. he said softly
to himself. It'll be Memorial Day,
and my boys grave shall not be with
out flowers this year, as it has for tif.
teen that are gone
He went to his rickety bureau to get
a ragged handkerchief in which to tie
his money for safe keeping. AS he
tumbled over the contents of the draw
er picture touched his hand. He
drew it out and looked at it in the moon
light. 1t was his brothers picture
when young man. The heart of the
old man was softened.
Will be muttered, I was wrong
wrong! I'll tell him so when l come
back. He'right. l amt happy here,
Ill go, TO him and ask his pardon, Oh,
Sammie. Somm:e he cried, suddenly,
bursting into tears, ask God to forgive
your old father for his wickedness -