Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-11-08

HIS Wn1L6 IaC0 uuSnCo PdlhAul- ly. ''Ahl yesr' he faltered, ''1 must have meant my medicinei It's time to take 1t, nowl feel sometimes that it's bound to build me up yeti When the cooler weather comes I'll get more rest.
 "And then?" repeated, as the poor
 "Oh! I'll get better theni'' he added, hopefully. But you don't believe that, know. Yet Rube can tell you I've been far worse than you see me now"
 took his hot fingers into my own. "Barton Jerome, have you a mother?"
 ''Yes," his answer but a whisper.
 "Apd you loved her once?"
 Don't say thatI l love her still!' he cried, passionately. ''But I've got to die without her-without herl O Godl it is bardI''
 "Why without her?' persisted
 'Because she does not know my observation-disclosures dare not let her knowI And she could not come to me, if I did. It is too late! too late!"
 His white face was buried deep in the rough pillow.
 Suppose we write to her," I sug- gested. ''A true mother can forgive and forget any and everything"
 ''No, mol" he gasped. "You must not writeI Rube does not know, no one knows it here, butt am fugitive from justiceI"
 did not say I thought as much; that would have been positive crueltyl But drew poor Barton Jerome's wasted face to my breast and pillowed it there.
 "You are good man, or you wouldn't do that" he faltered at last. ''Mother used to hold me in her arms just so when was a little fellow. But father was always cold and sternl l couldn't have done what I did if he had been different IT want to tell you about it before I go. You can write to mother when all is over-but not now, not now. I might get well, and it would not do."
 He had another fit of coughing then, and laid him back on the cot, white and exhausted.
 "lt won't be long nowI sighed Rube Sawyer, stealing in on tiptoe. "An' wouldn't it nigh about kill his mother to see him lyin' sol After all, it's just as well she doesn't know. I'll watch him tonight as careful as she would herself. You can sleep there in the other bunk. If I need you I'll call"
 So I retired from Barton Jerome's cotside. It proved long, long night, for I could not sleep. And neither did our patient. He moaned and tossed about, and once he again spoke aloud. Rube and l both caught the words. They were: "Mother, father-forgive. |"
 'I reckon they would," the miner whispered. "Wish they could see him now. Whats the boy done, anyhowP"
 ''He will tell me yet" I answered, eff he lives long enough"
 And the next day, Barton Jerome rallied. He was even strong enough to sit up for an hour, by the open door. It whole story of his blasted life. He kept nothing back, and he did not try to excuse himself in the least It was briefly this. He was an only son, and he had been carefully brought up and | educated. But soon after leaving col lege, he had learned to gamble. Then he lost heavily, and to cancel the bad debts incurred he deliberately opened his fathers safe, and took therefrom a thousand dollars. After confessing all to his still loving mother, he fled from home, and did not stop until he reached the Pacific coast. There he drifted | from bad to worse, until he finally brought up at the little mining camp, out in the Mubas foothills, where had found him the day before.
 When he finished his not uncommon story, I made no comments. They were not necessary. He was young, l oY YoA aI-Y.ir o1S 1Trin
 "I want to make restitution he said at last. "I can do it now, thanks tc Rubel He made some investments fol us both that have turned out well, ana I can pay father back, ten-fold. Yor must send it at once. l will make out q check for all have. Ny bank book is in that coat behind the door. Sorry put off writing so longl I'm not equa wish him to know. Don't mention my being so ill It would only worry mother"
 "You must write to them yourself" said, decidedly, Eff it is only the one word forgive-here are pen and paperr
 "You think that would do, sir?''
 "Most assuredly."
 He took the pen then, and traced the 
 to sign his name, but could not. Hi sudden strength deserted him, and h' } fell back in faint. Rube and were a long time in restoring him to con sciousness- Indeed we once thought h. had left us forever. Bnt Barton Jerom' lived a full fortnight longer, ant have never regretted my sta. in that remote and far-awa, camp. We had many a preciou talk together, and he died at last thoroughly repentant lad, wholly a ) peace with his Maker. l wrote to hi parents, making the restitution he de sired, and also inclosing his letter O one word, Forgive" For he was nev t CT strong enough afterwards to writ' s more. And their loving answer cam 9 the very morning he passed away . They gave him their full and free for giveness, and oh, how they begged hin