The Globe-republican., 1903-11-12

| Indeed 1Isw | added, we know
very little about bis South African
career. Ipresume be has d wife and
| Children
Mot 80, sir. Your brother lived a
very retired life, rarely Joining in any
Of the many functions our citizens de-
light In. He was a good man, and a
charitable one"
"Charltable?" l questioned. "Then
\ presume he has left large sums to
your local institutions and hospitals"
mo, sir; not penny
"Then to whom does his money re-
vert? Surely he did not die intestate"
"Not a man in the world less likely
! to do 50. No, Sill, you are a happy
man. By will-here it Is, sir, In black
and Whitehall that l die possessed
Of leave to my brother, Richard
Athelstane, to be by him used and dis
posed Of as may appear best to his
own good and charitable disposition"
I was not Unfortunately puffed up by
this sudden acquisition of wealth, One
thing flashed first upon my mind, and
4 that was that should be for ever
done with my old occupations. No
more grinding and paragraphs. No
more pulling about the dead and gone
ancestors Of mighty present-day pork
butchers.
No more Of ill.ventilated reading
rooms, whether under red tap or other.
wise. l should live in Utopia. To do
this, deemed 1t wise and best to
return to England. In due course, !
arrive in London, and at once went
back to the scene Of my old strug.
giles, the British Museum. 1t seemed
as If / could not keep away. "Why
did l go there?' you ask. To look
for Eunice, or, maybe, get some news
Of her, But no, could learning moth
ing; and 1t came into my mind that l
had seen the last Of Eunice FIRTH.
l had been one evening at Kings
Cross station to inquire after a pack
age had transmitted. | mode short
cut back in the direction Of Russell
Square, when my attention was drawn
! to a knot Of children on the pavement.
At first I could see nothing, but as !
drew near noticed one or two articles
Of furniture, with a box or two corded
over.
zone Of those hateful cases Of dis,
traint-some poor, lone, aged widow"
l thought to myself. Even as | looked,
a poor, worn woman, yet neat and tidy
withal, looked up, her face by Its
panied expression, telling a tale of
woe. Where had seen that face be.
fore? I had not gone on my way
many steps before my recollection
cleared. l FASTENED back to the forlorn
creature, and pushing my way to her
side asked in an undertone:
care you not Mis-. Firth Eunice's
mother?'
"Yes, oh, yes! But you-who are
your
Before l could make reply, another
figure appeared on the scene. Eunice
herself-but, great heavens! how
changed that face had become. In Its
thinness and wanness even the moth.
er's sank into nothingness, as in heart
tones she gasped:
"Oh, mother, mother! Have they
turned you out like this? l came as
soon as I knew the state Of affairs"
Then she caught sight Of me, knew
me at once, as could see, and drew
shyly back.
held out my hand to her, saying;
"You know me, Miss Firth. You
are in trouble. Your mother cannot re-
main here, you must come with me-
In the twlnkling Of an eye l had
put Mrs. Firth and her daughter inside
Of a growler and jumping on the box
told cabby to drive to Kings Cross Sta
ton.
In one Of the waiting rooms | heard
the painful story my friends had to-
tell. Eunice's brother had lapsed from
the direct course. In their endeayors
to rescue him their small capital Of
hardly earned savings had melted like
snow before the sun.
A new home was soon found fer
them. Money can do that. | begged
them to let me be their banker until
such time as Eunice's health was COM
pletely restored. Their common sense
was equal to the occasion, and they
showed 1t by accepting my offer. A
months perfect rest in town, another
at the seaside, soon mended the health
Of these broken ones, more than ever
dear to me. My old home in,Norfolk
forms peaceful haven of rest for
Mrs. Firth, At present Eunice is with
her. If I am lucky, there will be
bridal ceremony in the village church
before | return to town.-New York
News. ,.n,.
A Boarding Syndicate.