The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1898-11-24
HIS HOME COMING.

unGO EZEa anu Lucy NQ1bGl0Sy TWO boys,
William and John, who grew to youths
estate on the old farm in Oakland county.
John was a home boy. His happiest
days were those on which he hoed and
weeded. With William it was different.
He was like unto neither his mother nor
his father. He was just William. He
read, long into the night, by the kerosene
lamp in the sitting room, stories of a6yen-
ture and of youths going forth into the
world in search of fortune and of fame.
He longed for wider field.
He was IS then. For two years he had
saved every penny, every nickel, every
dime that had fallen in his way and ere
long noted that the dollars were taking
care of themselves in a little company of
their own. There were AZ of them in the
stone jar on the shelf at the head of his
bed.
81 will do itI'' he exclaimed to himself
in the dim darkness 81 will do it,
His thoughts were broken in upon by
the cry of a woman down below, at the
foot of the stairs.
William, William, it's time to go for
the milk
Eyes, mother, I'm comm now.''
The boy dropped all the $42 into his
trousers pockets, and, after placing the
stone jar back on it's shelf at the head of
the bed, slowly shambled down the stairs.
"There's tn pail, William said his
up by the kitchen window
William took it and passed out into the
deepening darkness. AS he walked down
that road the whole IS years of his monot-
onous existence, called life, unrolled them
selves before his minds eye. He remem-
bered the old swimming hole, the eager
hunts for birds nests in the days agone
the ''stone bruise' he carried to school
with him all one spring and the beech
whistles he used to make at recess.
He STUN bled along the rocky path to the
milkhouse on Green's farm, and then he
trudged back over that country road. The
moon was rising. Already soft, silvery
light 1ecked the foliage of the woods on
the left and cast shimmering shadows on
the stone walls.
And William dreamed of the wealth of
the Indies that would one day he his, of
the fame, the glory and the great good
name that awaited him out in the world,
beyond the ken of life on the Whittlesy
farm.
Suddenly the boy stopped-so suddenly
indeed that the frothing milk stopped over
the top of the pail and fell in two splashes,
one on the road, the other on his trousers.
81 shall not go home. I shall leave
now he cried.
He walked to the edge of the road and
peered into the white lighted woods. 81
must hide the pail, . he said, but whereof
For moment he stood in the shadow
thinking.
II remember he exclaimed. "The old
blasted tree trunk. I will put the pail
there"
He walked few rods further up the
road, and then sheered off into the woods.
By and by he came out into the moonlight
again. He had carried out the plan that
had suggested itself to his mind The
milk pail had been placed in the old tree
trunk.
Then William turned and went back
down the country road.
Eyes - the station agent at the crossing
told him, there will be train along for
the west in 80 minutes -
William Whittlesy had dreamed of Col
orado, and twas there he meant to go. An
hour later he was rolling on his way.
And the years came and went.
Not a word was ever received by the
Whittlesys from William. After many
months they came to regard him as dead,
and no longer hoped that one day his form
might again darken the kitchen door.
With William all went we'll. He pushed
his way west. He succeeded in his first
venture, and five years had not elapsed
before his name had come to be known
throughout the mining country Often
he thought of that home back in Miohi
gan, and frequently he said to himself, 81
will write" Then something would in
terfere with the carrying out of his inten-
ton, and no word would be sent back.
Thus the days and weeks and years sped
on until a fifth of century had passed.
William Whittlesy had accuIn ulated
800, 600 in the 90 years he had lived and
toiled in Colorado, and one day the desire
came to him stronger than ever to go back
to the old home and gaze once again into
the old eyes of father and mother.
So he returned.
Alone and unknown, the man wended
house on the hill. He had crossed the lane
below the woods when he recollected that
pail of milk that he had hidden in the
hol low log 20 years before.
Il wonder if the pail can be there yet
he said to himself, and smiled at the
thought. ''I'n see."
He remem bered the spot as distinctly as
though he had but left the day before.
He went to the blasted trunk, kicked
away the stones and moss and twigs and
looked down. Yes, it was there, but in it
nothing. He lifted out the old tin pail
its sides all full OF holes, eaten by time
and rust, and continued on up the road.
Il shall knock at the kitchen door, " he
said to himself, land when mother an
sWers I shall say, Here is the milk. -
And William Whittlesy laughed aloud.
William WhittIesy ascended the steps
quietly and knocked at the door. 1t was
opened by kind eyed old lady William
thrust forward the rusty, battered pail
and said, Mother, here's the milk The
woman looked at him with wonder in her
eyes. "WOn' come in?'' she
said.
William entered the room. It was the
same old kitchen he had known when but
a boy. And there by the fireplace sat
man, feeble and wrinkled and gray. GA
Their, I have come back, " cried William
Whittlesy
The old man turned in his chair and
gazed at the stranger unknowingly.
Don't you see who I amp cried the