The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1904-08-13
TOO LATE.

The old farmer died suddenly; so
when Judge Gilroy, his only son, re-
ceived the telegram, he could do
nothing but go to the farm for the
funeral. It was difficult to do even
that, for the Judge was the leading
lawyer in X, and every hour was
worth many dollars to him.
As he sat with bent head in the
grimy little train which numbered
through the farms, he could not keep
the details of his case out of his mind.
He had never given his father a
heartache and the old man died full of
years and virtues, "a shock of corn
fully ripe" The phrase pleased him.
81 wish to tell you," said the doc
tor, gravely, "that your fathers
thoughts were all of you. He was i'll
but an hour, but his cry was for John |!
John i increasingly.
If could have been with him l''
said the Judge.
''He was greatly disappointed that
you missed your half-yearly visit last
spring. Your visits were the event
of his life," said the doctor.
Last spring? Oh, yes; l took
my family then to California"
81 urged him to run down and see
you on your return, but he would
not CO."
mo, he never felt at home in the
city,"
The Judge remembered that he had
not asked his father to come down.
Ted was ashamed of his grandfather's
wide collars, and Jessie, who was a
fine musician. scowled when she was
asked to sing the "Portugese Hymn"
every night. The Judge humored
his children and had ceased to ask his
father into his house.
The farmhouse was in order and
scrupulously clean. but its barrenness
gave chill to the Judge, whose own
home was luxurious. The deaf old
woman who had been his father SER
want sat grim and fearless by the side
VI buC CO1uus
Martha was faithful" whispered
the doctor, "but she's deaf. His life
was very solitary. The neighbors are
young. He belonged to another gen.
'eration.''
He reverently uncovered the coffin
and then with Martha went out and
closed the door.
The Judge was alone with his dead.
Strangely enough, his thought was
still of the cold barrennes of the
room. Those hacked wooden chairs
were there when he was a boy. 1t
would have been so easy for him to
have made the house comfortable-to
have hung some pictures on the wall
How his father had delighted in his
engravings and pored over them
Looking now into the kind old face,
with the white hair lying motionless
on it, he found something in it which
sagacity, nature fine and sensitive.
ne WAS thc a afEnLy tfaE .IvLIaEadS, ania1ns
he had needed SO often He had left
him with deaf old Martha for his sole
companion.
There hung upon the wall the pho
tograph of a young man with an eager,
strong face, looking proudly at a
chubby boy on his knee. The Judge
saw the strength in the face.
"My father should have played
high part in life," he thought.
"There Is more promise in his face
than In mine"
In the desk was bundle of old ac-
count books with records of years of
hard drudgery on the farm of work
ing hard winter and summer and often
late at night, to pay Johns bills and
to send him to college. One patch
of ground after another was sold
while he waited for practice, to give
him clothes and luxuries which other
young men in town had, until but a
meager portion of the farm was left.
John Gilroy suddenly closed the
book. "And this is the end !" he
said. "The boy for whom he lived
and worked won fortune and position
and how did he repay him
The man knelt on the bare floor
and shed bitter tears on the quiet old
face. 30 father father !" he cried.
But there was no smile on the quiet
old face. He was too late.
sonrvwUaM euuppTeTw0