Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1893-01-05
THE OLD HOMESTEAD.
The Wanderer Returns to Find PoY-
erty and he Gives Happiness to the
Old Folks.

erty and he Gives Happiness TO Tie
Old Folks.
"Hello, jim! Where have you
been lately?" shouted broker, the
other evening, to a portly, finely
dressed man in the corridor of the
Fifth Avenue Hotel. The gentleman
stopped, shook hands with his friend
and replied: sI've been home to see
my old father and mother for the
first time sixteen years, and | tell
you, ol .an, wouldn't have missed
that visit for all my fortune
"kind o good to visit your boy
hood home, eh ?"
eyes, indeed. Sit down. was
just thinking about the old folks, and
feel talkative. ii you have few
moments to spare, sit down. light a
cigar, and listen to the story of a
rich man who had almost forgotten
his father and mother"
They sat down and the man told
his story:
"How l came to visit my home
happened in curious way. Six
weeks ago l went down to Fire
Island fishing. l had had lunch
put up for re, and you can imagine
my astonishment when i opened the
hamper to find a package of crackers
wrapped up in piece of the little
patent-inside, country weekly pub
lished at my home in Wisconsin. l
read every word of it, advertisements
and all. There was George kellogg,
who was a school-:nate of mine, ad
vertising hams and salt pork, and
another boy was postmaster. | tell
you it made me homesick, and | de-
termined then and there to 90 home,
and go home I'did.
''In the first place must tell you
how | came to New York. | had a
tiff with my father and left home. |
finally turned Up in New York with a
dollar in my pocket. got job
running freight elevator in the very
house in which am now a partner.
My haste to get rich drove the
thought OF my parents from me, and
when did think of them, the hard
words that my father last spoke to
me ranked in my bosom. Well, |
went home. l tell you, John, my
train seemed to creep. was actually
worse than school-boy going home
for vacation. At last we nearcd the
town. Familiar sights met my eyes,
and, upon my word, they filled with
Gears. There was Bill Lyman,s red
barn Just the same as ever, but what
were all the other houses? We rode
nearly mile before coming to the
station, passing many houses OF which
only an occasional one was familiar.
The town had grown to ten times It's
size when l knew it. The train stop
ped, and l jumped of. Not q face
in sight l knew, and l started down
the platform to go home. In the
office door stood the station agent. |
walked up and said: 'IIowdy, Mr..
Collins%
ssHe stared at me and replied:
you've got the best of me, sir
81 told him who I was and what
| had been doing in New York, and
he didn't make any bones in talking
to me. Said he: 'It's about time
you came home. You in New York
rich, and your father scratching
gravel to get bare living
81 tell you, John, it knocked me
all in a heap. l thought my father
had enough to live upon comfortably.
Then notion struck me. Before
going home l telegraphed to Chicago
to one of our correspondents there to
send me 81, GOO by first mail. Then
| went into Mr.. Collins back office,
got my trunk in there, and put. on an
old hand-me-down suit that used
for fishing and hunting, took my
valise in my hand and went home.
The currant bushes had been dug up
from the front yard, and the fence
was gone. All the locust trees had
been cut down and the young maple
trees were planted. The house looked
smaller, somehow, too. But | went
up to the front door and rang the
bell. Mother came to the door and
said we don't wish to buy any
thing to-day, sir
cit didn't take me minute to
survey her from head to foot. Neatly
dressed, John, but a patch and darn
here and there, her hair streaked with
gray, her face thin, drawn and
wrinkled. Yet over her eyeglasses
shone those good, honest, benevolent
eyes. I stood staring at her and then
she began staring at me. | saw the
blood rush to her face, and with a
great sob she threw herself upon me,
and nervously clasped me about the
neck, Historically crying sIt'sJimmy,
it's Iimmy!!'
aThen / cried, too, John | just
broke down and cried like a baby.
She got me into the house, hugging