The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1892-12-15

of a sunshiny October afternoon, Old
Milo sat out on his bench. his head
bowed over the staff which he clenched
in both hands-dead!
There was no sign Of violence, no
trace of mortal agony on face or form.
Had he fallen asleep he could not have
looked more peaceful and calm: and
Bill and Mary Jane both agreed that
it was better SO.
He was peculiar. know" said Mary
Jane, bursting into tears. But he
was always good to me. Oh, poor
grandfather"
Then it was that the mob of sight
seers, newspaper artists. curiosity
hunters, inquisitiye ncighbors, and the
innumerable army OF people who have
nothing else to DO. besiegcd the cid
place, going into ecstaCies over broken
spinning wheels. threc-cornered cup
boards, brass fire-dogs and canopy
topped bedsteads. And Mr.. Girls
cOmbe, the lawyer. arrived aud un-
locked the OLD desk, which was prop
ped up with q brick on one side and
had had all the panes OF the glass
front broken out al different times by
entcrprising burglars.
No papers, said he. NO will on
file here. Ididn't suppose there would
be. Mr. Menard deposited his last
will and testament with ne ten years
ago. Its very simple. 1t leaves cy-
erything including, by name, the
stock and fixtures Of the blacksmith
shop and the collection Of horseshoea
which from time to time the deceased
had accumulated, for luck's sake-to
his granddaughter Mary Jane Menard.
Now" be explained. Mrs. William
Jones: Ill read it to YOU"
But" cried the eager public, "where
is the fortune? What has become OF
the old miser's money!"
There's 10 mention made Of mo-
noy, suiI lir. Griscombe, dryly. Nor
Of fortunes"
The public vas inelrably disappoint-
ed. Not 50 Bill Jones and his bloom
ing wife.
Polly is a fortune in herself" said
Bill. compiacentiy.
And | am sure no amount of money
could make NE happier than | am
now, said cheerful Mary Jane.
And 50 Biil Jones flung open the
doors Of the musty old blacksmith
shop, lighted a huge fire and put on
his leather apron and sleeves, while
Mary Jane took her needlcwork and
sat out on the bench where Grand
father Menarl had died, and sang
softly TO herself, like little human
thrush.
'ol I h"o"' III sure S"io DIN
zones, "j'at on ear'h am gong TO
40 WIN th!9 PfePoStefous heap OF Ola
no,1t5.'oss.
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IhlilN'
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