The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1906-07-06

&OR month the young man lay
burning with fever, his brain
boiled in hot blood until things
hideous and terrible were
swarming out of it, as If it were being
baned of dragons. Two months had
passed before he was able to leave his
bed. He remembered only the glow Of an
Indian summer morning on wood and
field, but when he rose they were all
white with snow.
81 must co." said he.
"Not yet my boy" said Mary Allen.
you are not strong enough"
"Darrel has taken my trouble on him,
and / must 60"
81 have heard you say it often since
you fell on the doorstep" said she, strok-
ing his hand. There is letter from
him." and she brought the letter and
put it in his hands. Tyove opened it
eagerly and read as follows:
Dear Sidney-It is Sunday night. and all
day L have been walking in the Blessed
Isles. And one was the Blessed Isle Of
remembrance where I met thee and we
talked of all good things. If l knew it
were well with thee / should be quite
weary of travel, and all the roads had
grown long. l miss the tick of the clocks,
but my work Is easy, and L have excellent
good friends. l send thee my key. Please
deliver the red, tall clock to Betsy Hale,
who lives on the road to Waterbury hill,
and kindly take that cheerful youngster
from Connectlcut-the one with the wall
nut case and brass pendulum-to Mrs.
Henry Watson. You remember that i'll
tempered Dutch thing with a loud gong
and n white dial. Please take that to
Harry Warner. 1 put some work on them
all, but there's no charge. The other
clocks belong to me. Do with them as
thou wilt and with all that is mine. The
rent is paid to April. Then Kindly surrcn-
der the key. Now, can we do all this for
a man suffering the just punishment of
many sins? / ask II for old friendship
and to increase the charity / saw grow
ing in thy heart long ago. At last l have
word of thy father. He died peaceful,
happy death, having restored the wealth
that cursed him to it's owner. For his
sake an thine / am glad to know Ii.
Now between thee and the dear Polly
there is no shadow Tell her everything.
May the good God bless and keep thee,
but the long road of happiness, that we
must seek and find. Yours truly,
r. Darrell of the Blessed Isles.
Trove read the letter many times,
and as he grew strong he began to
think with clearness and deliberation
of his last night in Hillsborough. Oar
rel was the greatest problem of all.
Pondering, he saw, or thought he saw,
the bottom of 1t. Events were coming,
however, that robbed him utterly Of
his conceit and all the hope it gave
him. The sad lines about his father
kept him ever in some doubt A week
more. and he was In the cutter one
morning behind Phyllis on his way to
Robins Inn. AS he drew up at the old
familiar gate the boys ran out to meet
him. Somehow they were not the same
boys; they were bit more sober and
timid. Tunk came with "Glad to see
We, mister" and took the mare. Tho
widow stood in the doorway, smiling
sadly.
"How Is Polly?" said Trove.
For q moment there was no answer.
He walked slowly to the steps, know
ing well that some new blow was
about to fall upon him.
"She is better, but has been very
SICK" said the widow.
Trove sat down without speaking
and threw his coat open.
"You, too, have been very sick" said
WIS. .oo6nn.