Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1889-09-05

"Well, then, is there more than one
family living in the house?"
There is only one family l
believe"
"And you don't know whether the
name OF the family is Farley or not"
said the stranger with a smile.
/ saw the drift OF his remark, and
replied that was not acquainted in
the honse, never having been there be-
fore.
The name OF the family may be
Farley" said /, "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 the stranger; "he
is the man would see."
Hoping he might bring relief to my
new acquaintance, l readily conduct
ed him up the stairs, and into the apart
ment l had left.
On approaching the bedside, found
that Mr.. Farley had fallen asleep dur
ing my absence from the room.
LET me sit here" sid the stran ger,
quietly seating himself at the foot of
the bed, shading his brow, which l OBJ
served betrayed some emotion, land
do not tell the old man L am here. 1t
is the girl | would see, and l will wait
here until she returns.
Scarcely was the stranger seated,
when, as | approached the bedside, the
invalid awOke.
"You must know" said he, continu-
ing the subject of his history in man
ner which showed that his slumber had
been light, you must know that |
have not always been in the condition
of poverty in which you now see me.
/ was once in excellent circumstances,
and enjoyed high standing in So
ciety."
How did you become reducedP" /
asked.
"By series of misfortunes, of which
l need not to tell you. By degrees l
lost, until | became quite fortuneless-
quite friendless.
lis the girl who brought me here
your only child?" | inquired.
"Ah! it is of that l would speak,
sighed the sick man, pressing my
hand. Il had another child-a son
-
"And he is dead?"
"No-but he is dead to me. l lost
him through my pride-my worse than
folly"
"Where is he now?"
"Alas! l know mott"
He has deserted youP"
MOI drove him from my door. 1t
was in my days of pride and influence
that / disowned him and cast him off
penniless."
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.
Il loved my son." he continued,
after pause-"I was proud of him,
too, but even he could not change the
frmness of my will. 1t is that which
has estranged us.
"In what manner?"
Can you not guessP' Had you
known William, you would have dis
covered before this. His generous
soul, so unlike my own, was totally
free from family pride and prejudice
to which | owe my ruin. He had no
idea of the aristocracy of wealth. and
when he found among the laboring
classes n maiden whom he thought
might make him happy, he cared not
for her humble condition, but resolved
TO win her he .rt and hand"
"And you opposed him?'
Firmly -bjtterly-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 "a moment OF calmness that the
hour which saw him united 10 the poor
girl he was wooing, saw him no longer
my son. Bnt his soul like mine, was
above compulson and unlike mine, it
scorned the allurements of wealth. He
believed that toll and poverty were
honorable, and that worth was oftener
found with them than with luxury ana
riches. He trusted that he had found
priceless jewel in the person OF the
humble girl he loved, and he boldly
and unhesitatingly offered her his
heart and hand, although he knew
would disinherit himn'
"And he married herp"
yes; and from that time l have
never seen him! He provided home
for himself and wife in Boston, and
wrote me letter. In that he begged
me to excuse-he did not say forgive
! ulo dSJihS d5 dluSb my "lShSo, SUI odtNl
not a word-not a syllable about being
received once more as my son and
heir. He ended by inviting me to visit
him in his new but humble home, and
expressed desire that we might live
on friendly terms. was too proud to
visit him, and he never saw fit TO cross
my threshold again.
''And he continued to reside in Bos-
ton-in the same city with you, his
| fatherP'
Yes, for a time; but he was poor,
and could not bear, / presume, the
sight of those of his old associates who
ceased to know him when he was no
longer able to live in style. He scorned
them, it is true; but he hated the sight
of them, and therefore removed from
the city,
"And he never came to you or
wrote to you afterwards" said /.
Never The !; s. | heard OF him
he was in New YORK, and in tolert b 4
circumstances. Oh, what triumph
it would be to him could he see me
thus reduced-shorn of my pride and