The Springdale news., 1889-08-16

well-dressed gentleman at the door. who seemed surprised on seeing me in such place
 Docs Mr. Farley reside horo?" he asked
 T don't know that he does, I re- piled
 Well, then, is there more than one family living in the house?'
 There is only one family, I be- lieve.
 And you don't know whether the name of the family is Farley or not, " said the stranger, with smile.
 saw the drift Of his remark and replied that l was not acquainted in the house, never having been there be- fore.
 "The name of the family may De Farley" said I, but have not heard it. All know is, there is an old man and his daughter and he calls the girl 'Hetty.
 "The same, said tho stranger; "he is the man l would see"
 Hoping he might bring relief to my new appropriateness, l readily con ductcd him up the stairs and into the apartment had left
 On approaching the bedside, found that Mir Farley had fallen asleep dur ing my absence from the room.
 'Lct me sit here, said the stranger, quietly seating himself at the foot Of the bed and shading his brow, which l observed betrayed some emotion, "and do not tell the old man l am here. It is the girl 1 would sec, and will wait here until she returns.
 Scarcely was the stranger seated when, as approached the bedside, the invalid awoke.
 You must know" said he, con- tinuing the subject of his history in a manner which showed that his slum- Der had been light, you must know that have not always been in the con- dition of poverty in which you now see mo. was once in excellent cir- cumstanccs, and enjoyed high stand ing in society,""
 How did you become rcducod?" l asked
 By d series of misfortunes, of which 1 need not tell you. By de- grees lost, until became quite fort uneless quite fricndless. \
 ''Is the girl who brought me here your only child?' I inquired.
 "Ah, it is of that l would speak, sighed the sick man, pressing my hand T had another child son "
 And is he dead?"
 "No-but he is dead to me- lost him through my pride-my worse than folly.'
 ''Where is he now?"
 Alas. l know not"'
 'IIao he deserted you?"
 "No-l drove him from my door. Ii was in my days of pride and inHucncc that disowned him and cast him of pcnnile5s.
 The old man pressed his feeble hand upon his brow, as if to still its throb- bing. and closed his eyes with a sup pressed groan.
 Fl loved my son. he continued, after d pause -'I was proud of him, too, but even he could not change the irmncss of my will. It is that which has estrangcd us.
 "In what manncr?'
 Can you not guess? Had you known William you would have dis covered before this. His generous soul So unlike my own, was totally free from the family pride and pre- judice to which l owe my ruin. He had no idea of the aristocracy Of wealth, and when he found among the laboring classes a maiden whom he thought might make him happy, he cared not for her humble condition, but resolved to win her heart and hand.
 And you opposed him?N
 Firmly bitterly blindly opposed him. exclaimed the old man. He was major. and could not enforce my commands, but threatened, little thinking my threats were vain. l told him in moment of calmncss that the hour which saw him united to the poor girl he was wooing saw him no longer my son. But his soul, like mine, was above cOmpulsion; and, unlike mine, it scorned the allure ments of wealth. Io believed that toll and poverty were honorable, and that worth was oftener found with them than with luxury and riches. He trusted that he had found price less jewel in the person of the humble girl he loved, and he boldly and un- hcsitatingly offered her his hand, although he knew l would disinherit hlmm
 And he married herr"
 "Yes; and from that time I have never seen him! He provided 3 home for himself and wife in Boston, and wrote mo a letter. In that he begged me to cxcuse-he did not say forgive his acting against my wishes, but said not d word d-not syllable about being received once moro as my son and heir. He ended by inviting mo to visit him in his new but humble home, and expressed desire that we might live on friendly terms. l was too proud to visit him, and he never saw fit to cross my threshold again!'
 And he continued to reside in Boston-the same city with you, his father?"
 .'Yes, for time; but he was poor and could not hear, presume, the sight of those of his old associates who ceased to know him when he was no longer able to live ill style. He scorned them, it is true, but he hated | the sight of them, and therefore re- moved from the city
 And he never came to you or wrote | to you afterwards" said l.
 ''Never. The last heard of him he ] was in New York, and in tolerable cir cumstances. Ohl what triumph it would be to him could he see me thus | redured- -shorn of my pride and former |