Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1897-11-05

when he was dying? Yes, we'll md
some clew on the clock. I have pre-
sentiment that our disappointing quest
is at an end" he continued, nervous
ly mounting chair. His sister stood
at his side, holding aloft the Pickering
candle. Harold was feeling in the dust
and cobwebs when the old clock gave
groan, the cuckoo came to the door and
repeated its hollow note; there was
harsh screeching, and the dilapidated
timepiece tumbled in heap. There
was a shrek; the candle fell splutter-
ing to the floor, and the two ran like
guilty things from the room. They
stood in the empty hall for a moment,
painting with fright and peering fur
lively into the dark; then fastened to
their apartments.
Morning was stealing gray and shad-
owy through the quiet old building
when Harold stole down the stairway
to where lay scattered the wreck Of the
old clock. He searched amid the debris,
and brought to light bit of yellow,
time-stained paper. He brushed the
dust from it and read, in a cramped
handwriting. the words: ''To my wife"
At last. There was no hurry now.
Harold was perfectly calm as he pushed
the paper in his pocket and stepped
to the stairway to call his sister. She
came hurrying down presently, her
heart all a-flutter withagitation. "
Harold, have you found it?" she
asked. huskily.
He bowed his head, and the glow of
triumphant satisfaction on his face was
pitiful. He led his sister gently along
the hall to the old rotting stoop. Here
they sat down in the crimson glow of
sunrise, and Harold opened the paper
and read:
Dear Wife: In trying to atone for one
sin have been guilty of neutrality-suspicious.
greater. But. when you know all. am
sure you will forgive me. I will be brief.
When a child I was left an orphan. A
wealthy and childless couple adopted me.
I was reared in luxury, and when old
enough I was sent off to college. While
there I made the acquaintance OF some
dissipated young men, and soon learned
to drink and gamble. It was not long until
I was deeply involved in debt-debts OF
honor as they were called. was ashamed
to ask my foster-father for the large sums
needed, but being threatened with ex-
posure I promised to satisfy my creditors
on my return from vacation, If they would
wait.
Banks were not as common then as now.
and had learned that my father kept his
money in an iron box in the study. His
keys he always carried with him. The
night before was to return to school
1 stole to his room and secured them. I
had intended to take only sufncient sum
to pay my debts, but when the chest with
ho< q
wicked impulse overmastered me and I
decided that it all should be mine. packed
the money in my portmanteau, locked the
box, fastened the study door, returned the
keys to my fathers pockets, and, returning
to my room, waited impatiently the COM
ing Of day. 1t CHANGED the following morn
ing, it being busy season. that servant
could not be spared to drive me over to
the railroad. I was to 60 over alone and
the team sent for later
"There was a swollen stream on my
route, and as I drove in sight scheme oc-
Cured to me that had not thought of. I
stopped the buggy at the waters edge.
and, lifting my grip to the roadside. cast
the reins over the dashboard, and then
gave the horses a cutting lash.~ They
plunged with a bound into the muddy
water. watched them until they reached
the further shore, and then concealed my
self in the woods. They would think me
drowned and mourn me as dead.
THAT night I walked to a distant sta
ton and took a train for the west After
years of amless wandering, ever stung
with remorse, 1 came to this place and
opened my farm. resolved to make what
restitution was possible, the larger part
of my ill-gotten wealth by this time hav-
ing been sQuandered. So scant was the
living that I took from my farm that
soon became known Is Miser Furgis. was
glad, for it made me more secure in my
mn nd NV m
proceeds of each years crop to the widow
of my foster-father, for he had died soon
after my flight I have, at last, returned
every dollar of the stolen money, and the
farm, free from incumbrance, is yours.
This is my story. 1 need not speak of the
remorse, the fear, the suppressed love that
have felt all the sad years. Forgive me.
and think of me as your loving husband.
u. H. FURGIS."
The paper fell futtering to the steps.
A breath of air caught and whirled
it out over the tangled weeds. Harold
gazed for a moment toward the sunrise
that fared red above the treetops, then
his head sank to his knee and groan
burst from his lips. His sister was
weeping silently, her head on his arm.
Motionless, silent they sat for minutes,
then Hettie, looking up through her
tears, said softly: Brother. I never
dreamed that it would be like this
There was no answer. He rose and
staggered into the shadow of the door
way.
For weeks there was not a sign of life
about the old ruins. But one bright
morning Harold came forth a new man,
and went energetically to work. Now
the nanthousesare occupied. the farm
blossoms as the rose," and handsome
modern structure crowns the eminence.
Harold and Hettie found where their
treasure lay hid.-N. o. Times Demo-
crat.
Wise Mirth.
There is a saying of Chamfort which
many serious-minded people, under the
pressure of care and work, would dc
we'll to lay to heart: 1.-The most thor