The Montgomery advertiser., 1901-09-22
TWO LOST IDENTITIES.
BY JULIA TRUTH BISHOP.

and had a large acquaintance with husks. While he was in that far country. his hair. which had been so bonny and brown, had taken on a thick sprinkle of snow, and his face had fallen into nabby and dissipated lines. He generally dress ed without looking into. the mirror. Mir TOTS have a brutal frankness that Is Dar-' ticularly hard on the man who has been dining with the swine.
 There were times when the prodigal, struggling up out of bed with the head ache that was his duo, felt in hts coat pocket for the little bank-book that some- how connected his present with respect able past.
 ''There yetr' he said to the banlx-book there to bury me like gentleman. No gentleman got any business in potter's
 Which will show that even oa Js dey,;esprer of the husks that the swine dfd est may draw the line somewhere. The oprodfgat drew the line just outside of the potter's s field. Perhaps the prodigal had never been more dignifed In his manner than when he wandered one spring morning into q little village ten miles from a railroad: a warm spring sunshine. Somewhat un- steady as to his feet, but judicialiy cor rect as to his head, he wandered across the sunshiny little public sauare" by under the awning of the one little store; He sank down on a bench there and looked at the proprietor, who was calmly whittlihg. 'Shpring lovely shpringm remarked the prodigal: Makes man want to go to country"
 That's so," said the proprietor. 1T out in the country myself this week" Fish a-biting over at the creek?' ask ed the prodigal, with awakened interest. and a lapse into some long-forgotten dia-
 "Wussn'n sand-fiies." said the proprie- tor. You're from. the city, I reckon. Born an! raj raised T in the city. Never been out of it."
 And the prodigal arose with sober grav- ity and resumed his wanderings around
 Perhaps his mind was not yet alto- gether clear-perhaps ~he had begun to drowse too, like the town, but when he ehares osen os snS te Sd had s his eyes at last, he found little old man sitting beside him, The little old man had pipe in his hand, which he co from one of his pockets.
 "Waked up, did yer" queried the lit- tie old man, pausins to look at the prodi- gal wistfuly Ills sSyes had faded e,hs is eagle vision. and he had a way of lean ing forward and peering at one that had a tendency to make one uncomfortable. haps sufn ean tSaa sds Of Ss Sce on Ss hand and whistle dreamily into space.
 '.Yes. walked up," said the prodigal; so sitting ing and so whis,tling aa,ying spoken old man, % s thonghtfuiiy staring into his pipe. '"They was tellin' me up at the store that they thought you was from the sYes,," said the prodigaI with careful directness. having grown sober, Lived there all my life. How do folks ever manags, man ss,I to live in the country Sleepy
 five got a son. someers in the city" said the little old man, feeling vaguely n his pocket for more so6aceo tSes them in and packed them down with a trembling thumb.
 What's his same?" asked the prodigal. other wistful, peering glance Jimmie Sanger. I'm Amos Sanger. iSi Jfmmie's mothers buried jus back O the church. here. l thought maybe youS Frfghat rga 'a'
 "Lord!" ejacuiated the prodigal. "No- body meets anybody in the city: My names Jerry-Jerry Landless. Glad to meet you. How long has your son been
 Twenty mi I year" cried the old man, whose hands trembled so that the pipe turned over and spilled most of the to- bacco ."TIe-he run away from home
 "Young scapegrace.' said the prodlgal. succinctly. Good riddance."
 NO, mol" said the old man, q watery look beginning to come into the eyes which were viewing the, scattered brown crumbs regretfully. No. we never thought that We aa,n keP hGpin, Hhf hS,d come come though 1t ain't likely any more now. Like as not he's deal changed. Twenty year! An he was but jes growed up
 Maybe he's dead" said the prodigal. pulling his hat over his eyes to shield them from the sun.
 Sometimes I think that, too" said the little old man, absently putting the pipe away into the pocket where the tobacco had been. That's the worst of It. when your children goes away--youre always nositiye. one way or another-but to be always thinkin' that maybe he's alive, an dSin' wrong som'ers. CT maybe sick an with nobody to keer for im--Pve thought a'body's mind. Somehow. it's always seemed like 1t 'ud be a satisfaction to git i'm into the church-yard there. alongside O his mother; an 2 Jes know Tor good an
 There was a long silence, during which the old man furtively drew his coat sleeve across his eyes, and the prodigal pulled up a long blade of grass and chewed It
 'T reckon 1t would be a comfort" he said after awhile: And It's really the thing he ought 10 TIC ought to nave deeency enough not to come back unless he could make people proud of him. Got enough to live on, have you, old man?"
 The old man reused himself.
 "Oh, I've got enough" he said wearily "There's nobody but me. It's 1ea' feelin' that we've got somebody wand'rin' round the world, when he ought to be at home
 And he waved a comprehensive gesture | toward the village or toward the ceme- | tsrv whichever you happened to fancy.
 The prodigal fsncied the latter. He | arose and walked to the fence and leaned | upon it. His glance slowly wandered | along the grassy mounds. where some of | the headstones had><faIIen away, and | some of the mounds were without head | stones: but the grass loved them all. and | fhe trees above were putting on a we'll | of softest and tenderest green. A swamp | t,ireo was in the trees, somewhere, and | was calling one single melancholy note over and over again, and all the rest of "It's a pleasant place" said the prodi- gal. "Its the best resting place I've seen And having said this he shook hands with the old man. lifting his hat for yooment as he did so, and then disHp- | neared from the little vi1ake oanA sIeft 1t Sleeping in the spring sunshltfe. ss ssiEp-'
 Io ' ffHel z 2 |
 The man at the side gatesofrthe great |