Waterbury evening Democrat., 1906-05-14

''IIere are silver and gold,
 The one for day O remembrance be-
 tween thee an dishonor.
 The other for q day O plenty between thee
 an want.
 Tt was an odd thought an worth keeping an often I have repeated the words. The silvered hair, that was for remembrance, an the gold he might sell an turn 1t into a day oplenty.
 Tn the locket, was letter. said the poor man. 'HereSit is,' an he held 1t in the light O the candle. See, it is sign ed 'Mother."'
 An he read from the letter words O sorrow an bitter shame an firm con fidence in his honor. "It ground me to the very dust he went on. I put the money in that bundle, every dollar. could not re turn it an so confirm the disgrace O her an all the rest. could not use 1t, for if I lived in comfort they would ask-all O them-whence came his money? For their sake I must walk in poverty all me days. An l went to work at heavy toll. sor, as became a poor man. As Gods me judge, I felt a pride in rags an the horny hand.'"
 The tinker paused moment, in which all the pendulums seemed to quicken pace, tick tapping upon tick, as if trying to get ahead of each other.
 Think of it. boy" Darrel continued. "A pride in rags an poverty. Bring that into thy book an let thy best thinking bear upon it. Show us how patch an latter were for the poor man as badges of honor an success.
 "T thought to burn the money me host went on. But no; that would have robbed me O one great possibili- ty-that O restoring 1t. Some time, when they were dead. maybe, an l could suffer alone, or when some lucky chance might come to me, l would re- store the money, but I could not find the owners of it. Day an night these slow an heavy years it has been here, cursing an accusing me.
 "I lie here O nights thinking. In that heap O money seem to hear the sighs an sobs O the poor people that toiled to earn 1t. feel their sweat up on me, an, God, this heart O mine is crowded to bursting with the despair O hundreds. An, betimes I hear the cry O murder in the cursed heap as if there were some had blood upon it. An then I dream it has caught fire be- meath me, an am burning raw in the 
 The tinker paused again, crossing the room and watching the swing of a pen dulum.
 Boy. boy" said he, returning to bis chair, think O that complaining, i'm heap lying there like the blood of murder, An thy reader must feel the toll an sweat an misery an despair that is in a great sum, an how 1t all presses on the heart O him that gets it wrongfully.
 "'Well, sor,' the poor fellow contin- ued. now an then l met those had known me, an reports O me poverty went home. An those, dear to me sent money, the sight O which filled me with a mighty sickness, an I sent 1t back to them. Long ago, thank God, they ceased to think me thief, but only crazy. Tell me, man, what shall I do with the money? There be those living l have to consider, an those dead an those unborn 7",A
 "'Hide it, said I. 'an' go to thy work, an God give thee counsel.'"
 Man and boy rose from the table and drew up to the little stove.
 "Now, boy" said the clock tinker, leaning toward him with knitted brows, consider this poor thief who suffered SO for his friends. Think O these good words. Greater love hath no man than this. that he lay down his life for his If thou shouldst ever write of 1t. thy problem will be to reckon the good an evil an give each careful estimate an him his proper rank"
 What a sad tale.' said the boy 'It's terrible to think he may be my father. Please tell me when was the boy taken"
 ''Time or name or place cannot tell thee lest l betray him." said the old man. Neither is necessary to thy tale. Keep 1t with thee awhile. Thou art young yet an close inshore. Walt until ye sound the farther deep. Then. sor. write. if God give thee power. an think chiefly O them in peril an about to dash their feet upon the stones."
 For a moment the clocks ticking was like the voice of many ripples washing the shore of the infinite. A new life had begun for Trove. and they were cutting 1t into seconds. He looked up at them and rose quickly and stood a moment, his thumb on the door latch. Outside they could hear the rush and scatter of the snow.
 Poor youth" said the old man. ''Thou hast no coat-take mine. Take it, I say. It will give thee comfort an me happiness"
 He would hear no refusal, and again the coat changed owners. giving hap piness to the old and comfort to the new.
 Then Trove went down the rickety stairs and away in the darkness.