The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1891-09-20


each one of Dorisons children through the
door above to their graves-save the young
est boy. But the time came when this
house was not fine enough for Dorison, and
he moved into a brown stone front in
Twenty third street. There disaster fell
upon him. His wife died and he was never
the same man. He retired from business
mistake for the time hung heavily on his
hands, and he dropped. His only interest
was his only son-only child, in fact. L
saw him daily if in town, but in those
years, having interests abroad, | was away
from home great deal"
de interrupted himself to sip his beer.
Had he looked at the young man he would
have seen most singular expression on his
face; high color showing through his dusky
skin and eyes intense and burning. The
old man did not, for be continued calmly:
"Dorison and his son lived in this fine
house alone for some years. Then one
morning early servant entering the IL
brary found Dorison bent over the table at
work. Wondering at the early rising OF
his master, he spoke. Receiving no answer
he went up to him. Dorison was dead. He
had died IN the act of writing letter. The
most singular thing of 1t was, that his eX-
ecutors found that he whom we all sup
posed SO rich, had not dollar. The very
house he lived in was mortgaged to Its full
yalue.n
| The young man leaned forward, and ex
! tending his hand laid it upon the arm of
| the elder man. saying with great decision:
''You have a purpose in telling ME this
storyp'
! The old man looked up with a surprised
air as he replied;
What purpose, young sir, could have
in telling such a story TO an entire
strangerr'
The young man male no reply for
moment, but continued to gaze steadily
into the eyes of the elder one, as il think
ing profoundly Then he said in a deep,
low voice, quivering with emotion:
81 will continue the story. Mr.. Dorlson
was fond of the young man, his son. treat
ing him indulgently and giving him most
generous allowance. The son was young
ster caught up in the whirl of fashion-s
member of the leading clubs. following
what you doubtless would call fast life,
but, as compared with others, not FAST. If
extrayagant, he brought no trouble uron
his father; If reckless in his life. no dis
grace upon the name Of Dorison. The
/ letter his father was writing when he was
SO suddenly stricken with death ruined the
son. To whom this letter was addressed,
or what the fathers motive in writing it,
never was known, and it Is doubtful now
whether these things ever will be known.
The letter ran thus:
my DEAR FRIENB-The end is well nigh
ESdCuou. IL yUu
ately give me the assistance | need 1t is
even now reached. With such assistance
and q few years more of life all can be re
paired. am broken man in spirit and
in health. The last few years have been
tortured as no human being ever was, l
believe. / have been compelled to sit help
lessly by and see fine property devoted to
covering the consequences of crime; to
making good forgerles on my own name,
against which I oollld not aVan lift nv
voice in protest; to repairing losses of
others by robberies and defalcations; to
stopping the wheels of justice, which if
permitted to go on would heve brought ex-
posture and disgrace, and all the while
nave been compelled to sustain and conceal
the knowledge that sll this was done and
brought upon me by an upgrateful son,
who''-
death fell upon him. continued the
young man, the moment he had con
demned the son. To whom was this letter
addressed. Crushed and agonized, the son
IN frenzy sought the one to whom it was
written as a means of proving that the con.
domination of the son by the dying father
was untrue. All efforts were unavailing
The fact eff the condemnation was bruited
about; it became known in the clubs; 1t be
came public property; it was published in
T the papers; the police undertook to bring
the crimes alleged against the son home tc
him, but they were no more successful thar
he was in his efforts to disprove them. Hit
!: friends fell sway from him; the doors o.
/, his acquaintance was closed against him
he was cut on the streets. Efforts beiuJ
made 10 expel him fIom one club, he re
. signed from all and fed the city, practically
. penniless, under an assumed name. Seek
Ing employment in a western city, he re
manned until a few days ago, when under
L an impulse he could not restrain, he re
turned to the city of his birth after eigh
years absence / am he-John Dorison-
u disgraced by his dead father, not by him
). selfn
81 was sure of it; l was sure of it,
murmured the old man.
j "Yuu, too,n continued the young man
his voice trembling with the violence o
; his emotion, ''you. too, a friend of m,
q father, believed and do now believe tn
4 libel my father left me as his only herit
I age"
There was somthing so despairing al
I even pathetic in the attitude and intensit
of the young man that the spectacles of tn
J, old gentleman became dimmed with mois
ture. There was no appeal for belief i
!, the tones of the young man. The eide
/ read utter hopelessness in the intense dar
= eyes bent upon him; he saw the grief III
= DERIVING the strong face which he ha
IL newly aroused was an old settled grief, nc
g fierce words, but one that had come I
Y abide with the young man forever, wit
. which its possessor had become familiar g
70 a daily companion from whom he neve
:. expected to be parted.
~ The old gentleman, regarding the face @
D the younger closely and for the first tin
openlp, replied slowly and forcibly:
"Fo; did not believe the charge when
~ first heard it; l never have believed it; {
not believe il now.''
= The reply was unexpected. Dorison fe
O9 back in his chair with q gasp, starir
- blankly at the elder man. At the end
20 eight years, and for the first time, he hs
found one who believed him innocent of tt
u, charges.
"You-believe-me- inDocent -of-tho
a -vile-charges!"
~ II do" emphstically returned the o
:, man. when your father died 1 was s.
- :. sent from the city. After / returned and
:, learned the circumstances l sought you
- say SO and to offer my assistance, but Y,
~ had left the city,
10 The young man laughed bitterly.
- "Your words, the first OF belief in n
W innocence l have heard, are grateful a
u, comforting. If your belief were based up
=, more substantial reasons. it would give
"a what I am now utterly without-hope. n
90 life has been ruined by that unfinished /,
ter. Such is the only result have reach
as alter eight years OF enoeaVor to rathom
90 incomprehensibility.
~ MY dear young SIR" said the old m
". kindly, but with q tone of pain in his vol
q as he leaned forward and laid his ha
upon the arm of the younger one, 81 C
al understand your bitterness l sympathi
e GU with you from the bottom OF my heart.
'A admire you, that with the strong feeli
=. you naturally have, you have given expr
W sion to not one word of abuse OF the pare
=, who did you this almost irreparable inju
=" However, it 10 time for me to go to HI