The Press., 1892-03-03
III..-

Franklin was going to South America with party who were to survey the route of a new railroad. The scheme promised finely; the salary was good There was no attempt at concealing that the task would be arduous, and even ? dangerous. It was the sort of thing tc fire a young mans imagination. Ii would establish his reputation in his profession.
 He told her all this. She listened, feel ing that three years of separation bal anced it all. Then horrible thought arose-South America was land oi volcanoes and earthquakes, wild beasts and desperadoes.
 "You may die there!' she gasped. "You may be killed!"
 "I may, and a brick may drop on my head from an old chimney, or lightning strike me; or may be stricken with typhoid fever before go,' he said. Doesn't the minister tell us every Sun- day that in the midst of life We are in death?"
 He felt it hard that his grandmother and Doris should both insist on being miserable when he needed to be cheered himself, and there was no longer any thought in his mind of declining the ap, pointment and asking the storekeeper to take him as clerk. He hated to leave home, but the spirit of adventure which smolders in the heart of every youth who is worth anything had blazed up at last, and he looked forward with de- light. .<-,
 So.at last he caught Doris in his arms, kissed her twenty times, said, "Don't forget me, darling" and ran away.
 And shortly d pale, tearstainel little face, so startled even Uncle Matthias, who had dread of sick women and doc tors bills, that he gave Doris a half holi- day. ... . ..~
 She spent it watching the railway de pot, her face hidden by blue veil, and so saw Franklin's final parting with his grandmother. -.
 Remember, always put on thy woolen socks if it rains, Franklin" the old lady called shrilly from the platform after the train had started, "boys are so careless. ; And the young civil engineer periled his neck to answer, .'All right, grand mother" ..
 And. nobody laughed but one idiot
 Oh, the uneventful, lonely days. Oh, the weary waiting.
 Old Mrs. Fairfax had her servant, a girl from the Orphans home, and some times invited tea company. but old Mat thias had driven everybody from his house by his queer ways, and it was only nor %/,c Miss Chandler. and when at last a cer- tain erudite professor, who had been paying cautious attentions" for five years, really offered himself and led that amiable lady to the matrimonial altar and afterward to New York, Doris had nobody whatever.
 Oh, if the stately old Quakeress on the other side of the fence would have but nodded and, smiled as she went by. would now and then have talked to her. But the cameolike profile in the border less cap was always presented to her, and no consciousness of the presence of Matthias Morton's folks" was visible in the blue eye that so resembled Frank lin's.
 The old lady had a comfortable in- come, the interest of money in the bank, and her house. She had been very liberal to Franklin, aiid had spent a good deal on him while he was at school and col ,lege. He had left hervery we'll off for a lone woman. But it is that which we least expect that oftenest happens. The Courtland bank was supposed to be as substantial as the Pyramids until the day it closed it's doors. Then the people found that it had been as hollow as a last years chestnut for 8 long while.
 Among the depositors was Grandma