The advocate., 1894-04-18

to her father. From time to time her
father had written her at college, and
spoken hopefully of getting "every-
thing fixed up all right" !" and he had so
reaSsured her while she was at home
during the holidays, that she had ceased
to worry about the mortgage, and did
not suspect the real condition of affairs
at home. The farm was sold by the
sheriff before she had been at Rising
ton month, but even Mrs. Cotterell
was not aware of the painful fact at
the time. Cotterell had two months in
which to leave the old homestead or be
eVicted from it. He had saved a good
part Of Kate'S money to pay on the
chattel mortgage on his stock, and had
cleared all but his team, and had twenty
five dollars left to apply on the remain
ing debt.
The first day of February was bitter
day in the vicinity Of Golden. The
wind-and a cold wind, too-was blow.
ing furiously, and hard, fine snow made
the faces Of those so unfortunate as to
be out smart with pain. But Sam
Cotterell's chattle mortgage was due
that day, and he had gone to Golden
that morning to pay part and seek
renewal of the balance. He had put
up his team at a feed stable to be pro-
tected from the storm, though he spared
not himself. The chattle mortgage
broker first took the money Cotterell
had brought; and then fatty refused to
renew, saying:
"You're one of those calamity howl
ers that are always denOuncing inter
est and money lenders, and you'll be
trying to take advantage of the uSury
law to beat me out of my money after
awhile; although you'll find you're not
smart enough to do it. You must pay
this note to-day"
He was ineXOrable, and so the worried
farmer trudged about in the storm seek
ing another broker to take new mort
gage. But in vain. He was calamity
hoWler," and, apparently, the business
of lending money had become entirely
obsolete in Golden.
Night was coming on, and COtterrell
went to the stable to get his team and
start home, for the storm was increas-
ing in fury. But the chattel mortgage
broker had notified the stable-keeper
not to permit the team to be taken
away without his written permission.
Protest was futile, and at night-fall
Sam Cotterell started through the blind
ing snow storm to walk the weary nine
miles to his farm. AS he left Golden
behind him he passed the handsome
residence of the chattel mortgage
broker. All was light and cheer within,
for the elect of Golden society was to
assemble there that night as charity
social. The ruined farmer, already
chilled, stood for a moment gazing
through the plate glass window into
the brilliantly Illuminated rooms. What
were his thOughtSP Could they have
been gentleP What were his emotions? ?
Would the broker have felt easy had he
known? Cotterell was tempted to
ring the bell and plead for his team for
that one awful night in order to get
coal to his home. Besides this reason,
there was another, at which | pity the
man who can smile-he loved his old
horses, and he knew they loved him,
and his old eyes grew moist there in the
cold night as he thought how "the
critters" in the strange stable would
watch for his coming. Then his pride
rebelled against asking a favor and
risking rebuff from the man who had
so cruelty mistreated him. Another
temptation was present too. He would
go call out the scOundrel and thrash
him "'in an inchof his life." But the
shiVering old man conquered that temp
tatiOn, too, and trudged on his weary
way; on out along the deserted road,
leaving the light and warmth of the
brokers' house behind.
The storm ragged pitilessly, and,
through poverty and high interest,
Cotterell was poorly clad. He, who in