The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-11-04
Our Daily $bOrt Story

angry because Of his womanish weak ness-and he tough as nails. Prender, he who had never known . sick hour in, his life, Is growing weak and i'll. He tries to down the foolish fancy that creeps over him; foolish to him who has been so strong.
 The air grows more and more op- pressive: the lines and figures on the sheet under his faltering hand looked like tiny black streams that flow away from him like things of nothingAess, fancies he cannot follow. The mist before his eyes grows dense-and is now like an almost inpenetrable veil. He gasps for breath and tries to lift his hand to touch the tiny button in the desk. He cannot speak. He Is slowly freezing, so he thinks as the Sluggish blood halts in his veins His head sinks upon the desk. The old war horse of business has reached the border line and is slowly drifting upon a sea taht carries him afar, afarl
 And there Prender is found shortly afterwards with eyes that are open. but unseeing; with lips that humble. but say nothing. fs
 When the leaves turn to russet and flutter down softly, slowly, whisper ingly, the old merchant comes back into his own from border land. The glaze passes from his eyes and the blood begins to flow rapidly in his veins. His lips fashion words that are freigbted with meaning, and things beneath the touch of the hands, that have been like frozen members, are less like vague things to his brain.
 In quiet cozy corner where the rays of the sun stream across the old mans lap. the old merchant is seated. propped in pillows. Upon his lap is a tiny tot whose soft pink fingers play with the snowy beard that falls like pillow on his breat
 He stares, he bends his head down and gazes upon this strange face be- fore him--nay. not so strange, for
 there is a look like unto his Marie l there. He lifts his feeble hand and strokes the yellow tresses. so like
 those of one he dearly loved to stroke years ago. Softly he draws the little
 one close. and when the baby cuddled it's warm cheek against his a blessed light came into his eyes and a glad | tremor of delight passes through | every fiber of his being, and he lives
 again. The clog drifts from the old l mans brain and he can think, can rea-
 son once more.
 For the first time in weeks the I tears that stream down the old mans l cheeks mean something. His lips
 move and he utters slowly, softly and l reverently;
 | My Mariei"
 | And the baby. the little tot with his
 Marie's eyes, looks up and cooes and plays with the silver strands in her pink fingers.
 l And then the brisk, brown. robust young fellow who had been watching l the little scene from the corner steps
 close to the old mans chair and leans over and lays his strong hand upon the thin shoulder.
 My Billy--thank God. But where
 Is she. she who has been like a beau | tiful dream angel to me while I was | dreaming my life away in the shadow l land? Let me see her. Billy" l A pretty lady--the lady of his l dreams--steps near, bends down and
 presses a kiss upon the old inan.s l brow.
 Billy. and my pretty dream ange l-and-and this is my own Marie
 come back to me to stay forever. Oh Billy. I must keep them both. Do not
 take them back to the cruel woods l Billy. do not"
 father My wife and baby" Thank God for that! I am so hap py now"
 And a tear that rolled down tn,
 silver beard touched the pink finger and the child cooed and played witt
 the pearly drop.