The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1896-07-25
PART I.

I was asked one morning by my legal
preceptors, Potter 4 Patterson, to help
prepare for trial a law suit they had
brought against the Children's In
dustrial Home. I was not yet old
enough to be admitted to the bar, hav-
ing barely passed my twentieth birth
day, but l had assisted Mr.. Patterson
in the trial Of a number of important
cases and was thoroughly competent
to look up and digest authorities as
well as to seek out and examine wit
nesses before trial. l knew how to col
lect salient facts and brief leading au-
thorities, and I looked forward eagerly
to the day when could open case, as
making the first argument Is called,
with my preceptor and friend sitting
by, making ready for the closing
speech. Lawyer Patterson had already
warned me with laugh against open
ing" case $50 wide" that he could
not close it" But I fairly ached for
the chance. / didn't see much Of inter-
est ahead, however, in this suit of Will
son H. Peckham and Wife against the
Children's Industrial Home" 1t was
a fine May morning and could not help
thinking that Isaak Walton's gentle
lore was more to my taste just then
than Sir William Blackstone's. o..
OF course. Mr.. Patterson had a gen.
eral idea of the facts on which our bill
in equity, the first paper in such a pro-
ceeding, was based. for Mr.. Potter had
talked them over with him before draw
ing the pleadings. Mr.. Potter always
drew our pleadings; Mr.. Patterson said
IN,A 20 ,l,n Of h nix d.
ings had his case half won. But he
thought II just as we'll that I should
call on Mr.. and Mrs. Peckham that
morning and make careful notes Of the
facts an dates which he would have
to depend on them to prove under oath.
l found them on the porch Of the
handsome villa Mr.. Peckham had taken
the spring before. l was struck by the
mournful beauty of Mrs. Peckham's
face and the graceful melancholy of her
voice and gestures. l suppose the near
approach of the date when the sad
story of her life would have to be told,
In public, at the county seat, fifteen
miles away, had opened the, old wounds.
And when l remembered that the OBJ
ject of this very suit, in whose prepara-
tion l was now assisting. was to compel
the managers Of the Children's Indus
trial home to reveal to Mrs. Peckham
the fate of her baby boy, committed to
their charge by a false friend nearly
twenty years before, I realized sud
denly how gentle ought to be in my
treatment of so painful subject.
Mr.. Peckham was a handsome man
OF military bearing and dignified man.
He 4 aH
up the lawn and shook his head when
] explained my employers instructions.
81 suppose it can't be helped" he said,
but / am exceedingly sorry that Mrs.
Peckham must be harassed In this way.
She has seemed to me unusually de-
pressed in spirits of late" The lady
herself showed no hesitation when her
husband. leaning over the back Of her
long porch chair, explained what had
come for.
Il will tell you, as best can," she
said, slowly, 'of this great grief of my
1ife.' Her eyes sought those of her
husband, who sat by her side. hold
Ing her hand with that delicate ten
derness which is husbands highest
compliment to his wife. She read en-
io6SiiICHt tHcIil anu WtNl oH.
Il had been living happily, in the
town Of P for nearly two years,
when my first husband. Captain Este,
received cablegram, one Friday night
announcing the dangerous illness of his
mother, in Milan. He was her only son
and the thought came into the minds
Of us both. by a lightning flash of
sympathy, that he ought to go to her.
A steamer sailed from New York the
next day at noon, and although the
last train to the city had gone down
that night, it would be easy for him
to catch the boat Saturday morning.
We kissed our baby boy, just a year
old, as he lay asleep in his cradle and
set about packing my husbands trunk,
He thought he would be back again in
a month, surely. and somehow the
dreadful shock of the parting had not
yet come over me.
Weeks passed and heard no more
from him. tried to imagine him over
come by the death of his mother, but
! could not understand how he could
be forgetful of his wife. A month
passed, and I wrote to the American
consul at Milan, asking him to cable
me as soon as he had anything definite
to communicate. No cable message
came, and one day in my desperation l.
turned to my neighbor, Mrs. Bartlett,