Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1897-03-11
roo LATE.

do nothing but go up to the farm
for the funeral. 1t was difficult to
do even that, for the the Judge was
the leading lawyer in Z, and
every hour was worth many dollars
to him.
As he sat with bent head in the
grimy little train that numbered
through the farms, he could not
keep the details of his cases out Of
his mind.
Yet bitter grief, he felt, was un-
called for. He had been q good,
respectful son. He had never Civ
en- his father a heartache and the
old man had died full of years and
virtues. "A shock of corn fully
ripe The phrase pleased him
it seemed to close the story of his
fathers life, leaving room for no
regrets.
The village doctor met him at
the station, and they walked up to
the farmhouse together.
i wish to tell you.' said the
doctor, gravely, that your fathers
thoughts were all of you. He was
i'll but an hour; but his cry wac
for John ! Johnp increasingly
IF could have been with him y
said the judge.
lie was greatly disappointed that
you missed your half-yearly visit
last spring. Your visits were the
events of his life. There were no
others, said the doctor.
Last spring? Oh, yes! l took
my family to California
Il urged him. said the doctor,
'to run down to see you on your
return, but he would not CO.
No; he never felt at home in
the city,
The judge remembered that he
had not asked his father to come
down. The old gentleman did not
fit into the life of his family, who
were modern and fashionable. Ted
was ashamed of his grandfather's
wide collars and Jessie who was
a fine musician, scowled when she
was asked to sing the Portuguese
Hymn every night. The judge
humored his children, and had
ceased to ask his father into his
house.
| The farmhouse was in order and
scrupulously clean but its bare
ness gave q chill to the Judge,
whose own home was luxurious.
The deaf old woman who had been
his fathers servant sat grim aud
fearless by the side of the coffin.
Martha was faithful whispered
the doctor F.; 'but she's deaf. | don't
suppose she spoke to him once a
week. His life was very solitary.
The neighbors are young. He be-
longed to another generation.
He reverently uncovered the cof-
fin, and then, reckoning to Martha
went out and closed the door.
The judge was alone with his
dead.
Strangely enough his thought
was still of the cold baroness of
the room. Those hacked wooden
chairs were there when he was a
boy. 1t would have been so easy
for him to have made the house
comfortable-to have hung some
pictures on the wall! How his
father had delighted in his engrav-
ings and pored over them
Looking now into the kind old
face with the white hair lying mo-
tionless on it, he found something
in it which he had never taken
time to notice before-a sagacity, q
nature fine and sensitive. He was
the friend, the comrade whom he
hsd needed so often He had left
him with deaf old Martha for his
sole companion !!
There hung upon the wall the
photograph of a young man with
an eager, strong face, looking
proudly at chubby boy on his
knee. The judge saw the strength
in his face.
My father would have played a
high part in life,' he thought.
There is more promise in his face
than in mine
In the desk were a bundle of old
account books which showed the
part he had played. Records of
years of hard drudgery on the farm:
of work in winter and summer.
and often late at night, to pay
Johns school bills and to send