Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1889-08-28

Il left about that time myself. and
never heard Of 1t, : remarked the stran-
ger. "A handsome fellow, / believe,
some called him." he added, and again
the half-mocking smile curIed the edge
of his unshaven lip.
EYES," assented Miss Abbie, Che
tears springing to her eyes, .'and as
good as he was handsome"
i Were you a relative of hisp'' he
asked, regarding her with curious in
tentness.
II was to have been his wife," q
faint blush tinging her faded cheek.
u am 50 glad to meet some one who
knew Malcolm" she went on. This
is his picture"-turning the little mar
ole shield in the face of the stone. "A
little faded, butt 1928, s-c-s..... =.
She looked up to find that the shah
by stranger had turned and was walk
ing hastily away.
IL am afraid he could not have cared
much for him." she said. with a little
sigh; ''but them" seeming to realize
for the first time the aspect of the
man. "Malcolm's friends were never
like that"
Some hours later that same evening,
as [ was making my final round be-
fore the closing of the gates, I on.
countered the same shabby, lounging
figure in almost the same spot.
young man." he asked me,
abruptly, as I approached to request
him to leave, lido you know what hell
isp"
l stood aghast at the question. "Much
drink hath brought thee to the verge
of delirium tremens," was my mental
comment, as ] drew away from the
fumes of his whisky-laden breath.
II can tell you what it u.s." he con.
tinued, without waiting for my an
swer, 1T is to stand in the slime of
the gutter, a drunkard, vagabond, a
homeless outcast, and see what you
might have been, honorable, honored,
crowned with the love of wife and
children, and the respect of your fell
lowmen. It's to long as you would
for life itself for the very thing you
once had in your grasp and threw
away; to feel that you would give your
hearts blood to be now the man you
once might have been, but wouldn't.
That's hell, young man, and I am in
it,"
Blear-eyed, shabby. unwholesome,
the strength of his emotion lent to the
human wreck a momentary dignity.
1t was, as though dimly glimmering
through the defilement and debase.
ment. could catch the shadow. faint,
elusive, but still the shadow of that
nobler manhood he might have at
tanned to, but of which had so failed.
A profound sadness and sympathy
moved me at the sight.
lit is never too late for reforma
tion," I said, uttering the common
truism.
1T is too late by thirty years, was
his passionate answer. mo reform
ing or repenting now can give me back
the opportunity have wasted, OF
make me the man might have been
/ am dead man truly, as dead il
trespasses and sin, as that man,
pointing to young Randall's grave, 81
in his tomb. And that was Abbie
Pennel, the girl he was to have mar
ried!' with al abrupt change of tn,
subject. What sort of woman il
she?"
For answer, I told him of her constan
benefactions, her tenderness, her kind
ness, her sympathy, toward even tn
least and lowest of Gods creatures.
IA pure, good woman, you say
And yet-' he paused and ground hi
heel into the gravel walk, edo 70,
know men have felt the love of jus
such a woman a burden and bondage
and have worn it off and cast it from
them as they would q fetter? Well,
and he gave a harsh, unmirthful laugh
II shouldn't complain. I've had m,
| freedom, freedom to SOW the wind an,
reap the whirlwind: I've flung soul an,
body to the devil, with nobody to hin
| der and restrain. Good God!' and tn
Cry was wall of despair, 'that maj
will sink himself beyond the hope of re
demption, and fancy he is happy in do
ing it; that he will scar conscience til
he fancies that no sceLes or associa
tions will have power to sting"
''There is mercy"-I began, as h
paused with sobbing breath,
But he interrupted me iercely.
"What can mercy do for mep No
even God Himself can restore my vast
ed talents, nay mis-spent life," and
whimpering pitifully, he brushed hi
eyes with his threadbare sleeve.
Presently, turning to me. he asked
with beggarly whine: "Could yo,
lend me five dollars? I'm dead brok,
just now, and it's hard lines for mai
who has known different times"
| Without word I handed him tn
money. Poor fellow! he had spoke,
the truth; his manhood was gone be-