Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1890-06-04

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THE STRANGER SANK DOWN ON HIs
KNEES.
speech, and the smile on his wasted face
grew brighter. Then again his eyes
opened and their gaze wandered about
the little room.
81 thought we we're there" he said a
little disappointed. al thought we had
reached the end OF the journey and were
resting on the blue grass under the big
tree down by the meadow. I smelt the
clover blossoms and the wild roses, and
heard the birds singing in the tree
overhead, and the water as 1t flowed
along over the white stones on it's way
down from the big spring up under the
three old elm trees. But it is not far,
and we shall be there before nigh comes
on. Come, now, and let's be going, for
we have another hill TO climb, and
am anxious to see the dear old place"
He was still again for a minute or two,
but no one looked up TO disturb him.
"Ah~ he said at last, as the smile
faded from his features and look OF
doubt and trouble succeeded IL. "What
II they will not let us come in? What
II they drive us away again as they did
beforep But they can not be so cruel as
that. No, no; will tell them that we
have come long way and have walked
many, many days to get back to the old
home, and they can not be so cruel as to
turn us away. will tell them how
we'll love IT, and Of all the fond mem
cries have OF IL, and they will be
touched by that and not drive us away
any more. will tell them Of her
Of my dear, poor Marian, who came to
live with me In the old house. will
speak to them Of the times whom she
and I used to go arm-in-arm about the
big pasture, and Of the times when we
sat on the long porch and dreamed and
planned for the future. ! will tell
them how we'll she loved the flower s
and the birds, and how often we
wandered about gathering the roses
and the ferns. will tell them all this,
and OF the day she died, and will ask
them to let me stay at the old home, so
can go every day and plant flowers
on her grave. They will not drive us
off when l tell them this"
He is dying" somebody said, in q
soft whisper.
Yes, he Is nearing the end OF his
Journey" the doctor replied, as he bent
over the old man. docs anyone know
any thing of his life?"
No one spoke.
Then the door opened softly and Q
stranger entered. Leaning forward and
bending over the apparently lifeless
form, the stranger looked on the haggard
face for some time, then raising himself
he muttered:
1T Is he"
A minute passed and they all waited
in silence. The stranger did not speak,
and the doctor touching his arm asked:
What do you know Of him?"
HE is my father. Years ago went
away from home and soon after my
mother died. Then there came trouble,
and those nearly related to him set to
work to rob him Of his home. He was
old and easily persuaded, and after a
time they got deed to his property,
and then they drove him out. They at
tempted TO confine him in q pauper's
home, but he ram away, and for years
he has wandered about the country.
From the day learned his fate have
searched for him In every direction.
Sometimes heard of him being some-
where, but always long time after he
had been there, and 1t is only now that
have found him-and found him
dying"
The stranger sank down on his knees,
and, taking his fathers hand in his,
bent his head upon it and let his tears
fall. Those present fell back little,
and though they were as silent as death
their eyes grew dim and tcar-drops
rolled down the cheeks of some Of
them. II was but few moments, per-
haps, though IL seemed an age, before
any one spoke. 1t was the old man who
broke the silence.
1--WE have come long way to-day"
he said, land ! am growing faint and
weak. 1t Is not far now, but must sit
down hero by the way-side and rest q
little before | attempt to climb tho 9TH
Or hill. We have climbed a good many
hills to-day, but was not so weak then.
you, Sanch, lie down by me, for while
est want to tell you about the dear
Did home that am going back to, and
that haven't seen for SO long.
II will tell you about the old house
6rst and remember IL we'll, for It was
only last night that | saw IL in my
ireams, just as ! have seen it every
night for so many years. There Is the
big room, the one with the great fire.
place in which the hickory logs
burned and cracked, shooting
up soft blazes of light. There
Is where we used to sit OF winter even
ings, Marian and 7, when we talked
Of the future and of what life would be
10 us. ! saw Marian sitting there last
night. and ! saw the happy smile on
her face, just as have seen IL SO many
times in the old days before she went
away. Then there is the little garden
with the fower-beds that we used to
love, and down below is the great, old
orchard with the red apples, and the
rosy peaches. Over on the hill beyond
Ia the old school-house. where Marian
and used TO go, and where | first saw
her and learned TO love her. That has
been many years ago, but | have never
forgotten IL, and IL is all as plain now
as II ID was but yesterday. Then there
In the little church, standing In the
edge Of the woods, where we used to go
Of Sundays TO listen to tho white
haired old minister when he told o. the
uew and beautiful home there is ready
for W. all In the better world. They
used to sing down there at the church
about that home, and last night heard