The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1898-06-08

sand pounds, well invested, was left
to Phil.
"Now, Dick" said the old fellow
chuckling, "those boys will be sure to
ask you if you have any will of mine. and
/ want to humbug them; SO we'll de-
posit this at the bankers, and then if
they ask you if you have my will, you
can say No."
Everything was done as he wished,
and the will placed at the bankers;
and though, during the next five years
l tried hard to get the old man to make
q fresh one, he grew more obstinate
than ever, shutting his eyes blindly to
the character Of his nephews; and all L
could do was to let matters take their
course.
1t was bad course for Philip Hens
ley, who was, in quiet, secretive way,
a regular scamp-his father over
again. He was very clever and shrewd
as a lawyer, and got on we'll when he
stuck to it, and this pleased the old
man, to whom he was devotedly atten-
tive; while poor Sam seemed to be-
come more and more estranged, though
q better and truer- hearted fellow never
married a pure, sweet little woman
like an angel, who poured out tea for
grim old fellow.
was often at his snug little home,
and, after trying in vain to make
things better for him with his rich
uncle, | came to the conclusion that
they would be no happier for the
money, so / let matters slide.
1.-TWO thousand will be nice nest
egg for them," l thought, $50 per-
haps all is for the best"
AS / have said, Phil became q
shrewdish fellow in the law, and
passed his examination pretty well, so
that he knew what he was about in
legal matters; and one day he proved
the truth Of his uncle's prophecy by
saying to me suddenly.
"My uncle is far from well, Mr..
Brown. Have you got his will?"
NO." 1 said, so shortly that he
turned upon his heel and went away.
About month later l was with my
old friend, and felt shocked at the
change, for it was evident that he was
not much longer for this world.
He had sent for me, and | was in
hopes that he meant to alter his will,
and I was right.
"What a while you have been COM
ing," he said querulously. 81
wanted you so badly, Dick"
II came ON directly, old fellow" /
said, kindly. Here, let me put you
little more easy"
"Thank ye, Dick" he said, "but
it's all over. That boy has killed me.
Did he ask you if you had my will?"
Eyes, about month since, and l
said No."
81 knew it, Dick; 1 knew it" he
said, pitifully; "and ever since he has
been worrying me to let him make my
will. Dick, old friend, I've made a
big mistake, There, there, don't jump
upon me. II confess it all. 1
thought he was his mothers boy, he
was so like her; but-but he has his
fathers spirit and his ways to the very
bone"
81 am glad you have awakened to
the truth" said.
"You should have advised me bet
ter" he retorted querulously,
"Should 1, Jack?"
"No. no; you did, Dick. I've only
just found out what an old fool am,
my dear boy. We have quarrelled
terribly, that boy and 1, for / have
found him out, in spite of his smooth
tongue. He's a scamp, villain-a
gambler, and in debt terribly. He
has half killed me, Dick. and
and"
1 tore at the bell, as the poor old
fellow seemed about to have fit. for
the terrible emotion he had suffered
at what must have been the roofing
up of his most cherished belief in his
sisters child had proved, in his weak
state, to be more than he could bear.
The doctor was sent for, and at the
end of an hour John Hendricks was
so far recovered that he whispered
my name, and l, sitting down beside
him, heard him in whisper say
"Draw up my will quickly. A just
] one."
81 don't think he will ever recover
sufficiently to sign," said the doctor,
"He has driven it too late, Mr..
Brown"
The doctor was right, for my poor old
friend never recovered his senses, but
quietly breathed his last few hours
later.
The funeral followed in due form,
and was there, both as old friend
and solicitor, to meet the very small
party who went to the grave.
Sam was there, of course, making
no indecorous show of sorrow, while
his brother sobbed aloud over the
grave; but he had good deal recov-
cred when we assembled afterward in
the dining-room of my oH frien1's
house, his few friends wondering
whether he had remembered them in
his will, about which subject / heard
whisper going round that none had
been left
suppose that it was from feeling
of Importance, perhaps more from an
unwillingness to wound poor Sam
Hemsley and his young wife by letting
them hear the unjust will, that 1 did
not hurry myself to produce it, though
/ don't think they anticipated much.
But all at once, to my utter astonish-
ment, Philip rose, coughed to clear
his husky voice, and said quietly: