The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-06-09

don't know that papa isis killedr asked Artte, his eyes wondering.
 NO, guess they still think him alive, {" said the mother. But must not stop to talk, dear; I've got to make the rent this week while work Is flush. As soon as the hot weather Is over 1t will get slack" And the tired mother rose and went to her machine.
 As they sat on the floor by the window Artie whispered to Bessie: "A fairy just whispered to me-a fairy from the sky that I should go out and find my grand father and tell him about our papa"
 But how can you go to the Great Country?" asked Bessie.
 T think I'll find him in the street-our grandpapa. Somehow, the fairy just now told me to go Into the street and find him." And Artie rose and left the room. putting up a warning finger to Bessie and whispering her to say nothing about it to their mother.
 "I'll be back before supper time," he conflded on slipping out through the open door.
 In few minutes Artie had gained the street, with its dense throng and insuf- ferably humid atmosphere. He went toward the corner, scanning everybody he met, for he felt that he was soon to find his grandfather.
 But the crowd passed the little boy by, not one stopping to ask why he searched the faces of all old men he happened to see. Pretty soon, to Arties astonish- ment, he found himself near to the little park-or open square-where his mother often went with him and his sister on Sunday afternoons Feeling that breath of the air In the park would revive him, the little fellow went in and sat on bench near the entrance. Soon he became absorbed in the play of the many chil- dren who came there from the close tene- ment houses nearby. Some were playing "tag" and others rolling balls and mar bles. Artie was on the point of asking to be allowed to join fin q game of ''toss and catch when an old mans voice fell on his ear. Turning, he saw that stranger had taken the end of the bench he sat on--a stranger with white hair and beard and the complexion and general appear ance of a countryman. He wrote a long linen ulster and held on his knee the proyerblal ''carpet bag" of the rural dis tricts. Artie was all attention, for the old man seemed to take hold of his very heart. He was mumbling to himself In a dazed way and referring to bit of solled paper that resembled an old letter. "Ah," he was muttering. strange can't find him. The last letter was from NO. log Dasn sreel' put they say at that place they never heard of such person, that the present family has lived there two years Well, and at the box factory they say he left there long, long time ago. was discharged on some slight offense. So, in the five years since he last wrote me he has become lost in thrs great city. But 1t was my fault-all my fault!"
 The old man refolded the letter and placed it gently in his breast pocket, then closed his eyes wearily as If to shut out the sight of the noisy crowds about him. Artie's heart was a-hutter. He slipped along the bench to the side of the old man. and, touching his hard ened, wrinkled hand, said: Are you looking for your son, Mir. Old Gentle manp'
 The old man jumped nervously from the shock of the child's touch and voice;