The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-07-11

the price of an admission nowadayss
but all the dealers know him, and dor 3
mind having him around for the sake
of the prices he used to pay for what
he happened to take fancy to-
when / went back he was sitting
just where l had left him, with the
tears running down. his cheeks
Il went right up to him. Mr. Heath
ly,' | said, of course you don't reme1I-
Der me, but / used to be Nan Murray;
you must remember my father, John
Murray He looked at me little be-
wildered at first, and then seemed to
collect himself. John Murray! Are
you his daughter?' he said, and tried
to smile; you never saw anything so
pitiful in your life, Horace, as that
smile.
" Yes l said, and kept hold of the
hand he had put out, and patted it a
moment, think. l was so sorry for
him. I went to your house ever SO
long ago, and remember seeing such
quantities of pictur es there / stopped
then, afraid | had been saying the
wrong thing, but he looked little
comforted, and / saw /. was a relief to
him to talk, and SO SGT down beside
him.
That was one of my pictures he
said, pointing to it. Il haven't seen it
for six or seven years. 1t was Corinna's
favorite of all we had. Do you remem-
Der my wife,? he asked, Strengthening
up and speaking with more dignity.
She is dead, you know
No; don't think ever saw her.
But what beautiful picture it isl
Yes, isn't it? l wish l could have
kept just one he said his chin culver
ing pitifully for a moment, and then
lie regained his self-possession.
failed in ST, he went on, lost every
dollar, and that had to go with the
rest; but, thank God, it cane when she
could not feel it,
1 am SO sorry! Was it necessary
to give them all up?' l asked. l knew
cared like that.
Everything. First she went, then
the money, then my pictures, and then
my friends. You are like your ia
ther,' he said. 4 see him once in
awhile even now. He has heart; he
does not forget
Il said | was glad he thought me
like him, and drew him on to talking
more and more until he told me most
of his life. He started poor boy, and
married when he was still poor, but
was beginning to get on little. They
were New England people, with some
education, | suppose, and ambitious to
| improve themselves as they grew rich
er. They never had any children, and
they both loved pictures. He did, at
least, and / believe that must have
| been why she did, as she followed him
in everything then, as she had worked
for him while they were poor. He
finally went into Wall street. Every
thing he touched turned out we'll, and
they were as happy as could be, when
she died, eight years ago. That
seemed to have broken his nerve, for
he began to lose his head from that
time. He told me that after she had
gone the pictures We're his greatest
comfort; he used to spend hours
among them, and they somehow
brought her nearer. They had selected
them together. but this one of all had
been her favorite, because it reminded
her of the view they had from their
/ first real home in Montclair.
They never knew whether it really
was done there or not, but, as Inness
sletched around that country a great
deal, they thought it probably was.
Then his money began to go, and
he seemed to lose his grip on managing
his business, till finally the smash came
and he gave up everything. 1t broke
his heart, | think. Il can't seem tc
pull up and make a fresh start, he
SAID; i guess I'm too old; for l have
had couple of chances, too He
blushed when he said this, and
thought of what McWilliams had told
me about his drinking.
Then he went back to the picture
It's wonderful bit, he said. DO yor
see the way that brook winds clea,
back to the trees?-though you don
notice it at first-and the shadows OF
the grass are SO transparent they seen
to come and go while you look. When
| came across it suddenly to-day il
brought her right to me. If could onlJ
have it back again, the rest wouldn't
seem SO hard; it would help me to re
member better / said good-by t.
the Cain that minute, Horace.
Mrs. Hubbard stopped with littl,
sob at the thought of old Healthy,
hopeless anguish, and Hubbard
pushed the low table between
them away, and she moved nearer
and leaned her head against his arm
while she finished.
Il asked him to let me give him the
picture then; knew it would not bring
more than the Cain, and that | coulC
although | was almost afraid to Offer
it to him; but I put it on the ground G
old friendship.
1T would not do any good, M
child he said. Il could not keep it.
'Do you wonder l told McWilliam
to get it for me? l could not do any
thing else; could l, dear?-with VOL
away, too. After l had arranged
about it | told him he could COM
whenever he liked to look at it, ant
stay as long as he liked, and neet
never ask to see anyone, but that Ed
| I