The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1896-11-27
A COWARD'S
THANKSGIVING

he was not bad man al neaft. Dul
the very qualities which moved some peo-
pie to call him "jolly good fellow" were
identical with those which made other
people consider him a bad citizen, and,
with the usual emphasis Of people who
take the downward view, a very bad
citizen.
When his wife died he seemed to awake
with sudden shock to the issues Of life
and the fact of death. He had loved her
with ell that marvellous depth of tender
ness, that inconsistent fervor which some
times underlies the weakest natures.
In the newness Of his grief he foreswore
his old ways and habits. He knew him
self to be weak He fancied the way to
strength of resistance lay along the road
of seif-exile to strange scenes and I'M
familiar faces-that road well worn by the
restless feet of those who fly from the
battle within to wage an unequal struggle
with the allies without.
He left his little son, made doubly dear
to him by the sense Of loss, with his wifes
cousin, gave to her what money he could
spare for the child's support, promised to
send more at regular intervals, and de-
parted westward.
More than year later he reused him
self as if the finger of fate had touched
him. He remembered, with an anguished
regret, that he had failed again; that for
months he had drifted from place to
place, he himself scarcely knew where or
how. He remembered that his promised
remittances for the boy had ceased. He
saw himself broken in strength, in health,
in spirit. He felt suddenly overpowered
with the consciousness of his own weak
ness, and, as a drowning mans arms
reach wildly out toward any illusion Of
help. his thought went out toward his
child.
1t seemed to him that the love of his
boy could save him. The miracle of sal
walton became to him possible. wherein a
little child, strong in love and innocence
and faith, should lift the fainting, failing
manhood of the man.
A passionate yearning seized him to
fold again to his heart The little form. to
feel ABOUT his neck the clinging arms, to
hear again the lsping words which came
to his weakened memory like distant
echoes in a dream. And then he remem-
bered the day when first the child was
laid in his arms; he remembered the
thrill. the wonder. the first pride of faith
erhoOd. Then, in brok IN glimpses as q
fair landscape is seen between blurs of
mist. there came to him memories in swift
succession. of the growth, the incidents
of the ehild's few years.
Il must go to him." whispered the man
with gasp, as he lifted his head from
his hands. His face was flushed. tears
stood in his eyes. His resolution was
carried out with feverish haste. and he
turned his face to the East.
His wife's relative had little excuse for
him. She had long considered him
hopeless vagabond. So when he appeared
suddenly, as from the possible, and in
her opinion, better, dead, she was not pre-
pared 10 receive him with especial cordial
ity. Ihe story was soon told. The bow
had died months before. He slept by his
mother. No one had known where to ad-
dress fhe father, who was supposed to
have forgotten he had a son. She was
really not much surprised at the apathv
with which the father listened. 1t was
consistent with her estimate of his char
acter. She had no means of know;no
that his faculties were stunned. But she
was astonished beyond measure when. in
; mechanical way, he insisted upon giving
her money for the expense of caring for
and burying the boy.
/, is that quite 2" he kept asking. and
Then. abruptly but quickly, he said:
"Good-by, I'm going back
he knew that his hope was dead: he
felt the certainty of fall now that nothing
remained to him to lean upon. But he
thought of other things.
A sleety mist filed the air, sparkling in
the street lights like q may shower Of