The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1894-09-23
WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES.
The Story of the Man Who Lived Down the One
Error of His Life.

on her hasty journey the lopg-ooked-for
letter comes from Joe. 1t Is all true. YES
he is thief
Joe has not many words at command. L
is hasty. hli tied scrawl that Aunt Prut
holds and reads with staring eyes
Ii the heavens had fallen Aunt Prus
might not have been surprised. She would
have thought 1t the good Lords will. But
THIS, IN Its cruelty, is something beyond
belief.
The letter is very vague. She must
know what it means. Aud away she hies
to the distant city, that has engulfed poor
Joe. ADd Aunt Prue, who has never
n harmed any one In her life, shriuks from
every familiar face as though she were the
thief.
When she reaches the gloomy prison
and thinks Joe is within its walls her
heart almost fails her.
The heavy door that shuts Joe away
from the sunny world out ide swings
back. revealing figure sitting motion less
on the narrow pallet, his face hidden in
his hands.
''JOe, dear boy"
"Oh, Aunt Prue."
He turns his head, but she sits by him
and takes bis hand, that has grown white
| and delicate since the DAYS at the mill
while slowly and in broken voice he tells
her ALL
1t is the old story. In a fatal moment
MS hands mad garnered unlawful gold. He
never meant to be thief, but money he
must have; only little. and he meant to
replace 1t soou-sud now he must heve a
tri6e more, he will surely pay it somehow
80 II goes, until the day of discovery
Joe's hands are empty, ana the money is
| gone.
Aunt Prue, it is all over" he says. bit
terly, at last Il have thrown my life
away. [ was coward and a fOol-yes, and
thief. But will bear my punishment like
man. f0rI deserve it"
Aunt Prue says not word.
But, when go outside again." he goes
on hOpelessly, "who will trust me? Who
! will believe me? | might better be dead
and out of the way"
'Whn viii believe YOU? will. Who
will trust you? We all wIll-we who
know you and for the rest you must learn
not to mind"
Then she stops. Aunt Prue is very con-
seientl0us. very strict in her ideas of
right and wrong, and this is an awful
thrust.
'Idon't say but that blame you, Joe,"
she says slowly. You have done dread
ful wrong, and it is right that you should
pay the penalty" Here she breaks down
at sight OF Joe's pale face. NO-she can
not preach TO him, she has not come for
that.
Eve love you, Joe." she says, brokenly,
''and we shall walt for you 10 come back
to us. Yes, you come home and live
it down"
Three years in prison. That is the end
OF all 10 s bright dreams in the old mill.
Aunt Prue mortgages the meadow and
sells the wOodlot The south wind will
sing no more to her when the pine trees
are cut away to pay for Joe's stolen
money.
And now Joe sits silently in prison. max
ing shoes. And be has time to think,
mink, ill his brain whirls. Blessed be
the work that comes 10 keep him from 60
ing wild. How he hates hins elf for being
there.
How his mind goes back to his home in
these silent days. He knows when the
farm work begins to drive, and snow melts,
and the early flowers blossom.
Sometimes he walks with Ruth in the
woods. Oh, what does Ruth think of him,
now?
He sees the flash of the mowers scythe. !
The corDstalks are gathere ready for the |
mil some day; the apples are Piled ia rosy |
heaps IN the ORCHARDS; the nuts ripen in |
the clear October weather: suns rise and |
set; holidays come and go; but behind the
dTeary cars life moves on, ever the same. |
And now the blind old grandma Their
drops her Knitting forever. without know
ing why Joe turtles awav 50 long. She |
tanks he is WORKING too hard. poor boy.
Joe senus her tender and loving letters |
that the warden reads, and Aunt Prue |
soul, and she dies at last with a letter |
from oe In her withered hand
Joe loved her; but he is glad she is |
gone; glad that she never knew the truth. |
Aunt Prue is Joe's ouly tie to the outside |
weird. She tells him how everything is |
going on in the sleepy old town among the |
hills.
Many kindly word finds its way to Joe |
from the people he used to know. They |
sent to him to come and be their miller |
again. Aunt Prue wishes it.
But Joe thinks he would almost die of |
shame o look in the old familiar faces
His time is shortened by good behavior |
ard he walks forth free man one day, |
not knowing where TO 60. He is not used |
to people yet. and almost Graves the shell |
ter of the PRISON walls.
The turkeys wife has been good to |
him; she asks him TO stay few days and |
work about her garden, and be is glad to |
do it. He cannot face home yet.
Before he has settled what to 10 there |
comes a cry from the South. where the |
pestilence Is raging-a cry for help. He |
reads how the dead and dying have no one |
to care for them, and his uncertainty is |
over.
What is my life worthP" thinks Joe.
"And, at any rate, l am not afraid. Let |
me go and help.
hoping to lay 1t down, he soon loses all
thought OF self In the awful scenes about |
him. He wishes he had thousand lives |
to give, thousand right hands to hold out |
to the dying.
Strange how sweet it is to live and be
of use again. Why, for three years lie
has been dead. If he has not felt the
daisies growing over him be has some
times thought he was slowly turning to
stone.
And now, thank heaven, he is alive.
Res less and tireless everywhere, with
steady hands and a cool, clear head, he
goes from one to another like a strong,
glad angel.
He sits by the dying, and as the pale
feet near the dreadful brink how the cold
hands cling to his! He comforts them
with many word of faith and hope and
trust, that come to him, he hardly knows
| how; but yes-it was from Aunt Prue he
| learned them, in prison days.
| NV, many soul is fam to go resting
its hope on the words that fall from poor
J0e's lips. How they bless him. The
| good name he trampled in the dust is
| borne to heaven on their dying prayers.
And Joe has looked in many faces again,
and was not ashamed. Nay-rather. he is
| glad to be alive
Aud when there is little respite, brief
! lull in the fearful storm Of death, he thanks
| God and takes courage. How plain his
| life work now-to save others.
No more hiding away from his fellow
| men. Let his good name take care of
itself. If the pitiful story of his fall can
| helm any thOughtless lad to stop in time.