Year: 1867

man shabbily dressed, his head bowed
forward, q hint Of palsy in his carriage,
q witness OF burdens that bowed him and
misfortunes that had broken him in the
bent shoulders and the dim sorrowful
eyes. This was the figure that, six
months ago, had crossed on the street
the pathway Of John Barron, and its
name was Benjamin. Hatch. t..-...


Truly the years had avenged John
Barron. He looked on the letter In his
hand, and his eyes fairly gloated with a
fierce bitterness over the words. His
enemy was in his power at last. John
Barron would not lift finger to save
him. And then he thought with a
strong exultation, that hadain II more of
the frenzy Of twenty than the cold hard
ness Of seventy, that few strokes Of his
pen would save the old gray head from
going down to its grave with shame,
and the young one that was dearer to it
than life from prison.


With that thought of death the old
mans mood quieted. That waited for
Benjamin Hatch; for him also, little
way off! Wronger and wronged, they
must lie down together, and the sods,
wounded to make their resting place,
would heal lovingly with green grasses
in little while. The stormy lives of
both waited to close only little way up
the years-thc prospesity of the one, the
sorrow of the other, to end alike so soon;
and as he thought, the wrath of John
Barron quieted toward the enemy who
had wrought the great anguish of his
youth. Something rose up in the mans
soul and asked him If the punishment
had not been bitter enough. He thought
Of all that Benjamin Hatch must have
borne and wrestled with before he could
have bowed his pride to write that letter;
he thought of the young son awaiting
his trial with cloud Of shame dark en-
ing over his name; he wondered If he
had Margaret's eyes, and she came be-
fore him, not the Worn and grayhaired
matron who had laid herself down to die,
but in her fresh, dewy bloom, with the
soft voice and the smile moving like
light along it. And this was her son,
and Benjamin Hatch was his father--his
heart hardening again over that thought.


1t would be only stroke of his pen.
The house Of Barron Il Co. would never
miss that pitiful sum. Something in
his soul making itself hard again, hi-
own son and daughter coming before
him, the one Il slender, studious youth
the other fair and gracious girl; ant
his heart warmed and so.tened now, as
nothing but these two could warm and
soften the heart Of John Barron. They
must be Whiting ut home for him now.
He rose up and walked the room, the
thin wrinkled face, the iron mouth all
broken up into struggle, the daylight
paling all around the small diDgy Office


Should he do this thing? Should ht
spare the enemy that had not spared hi:
own youth? 1t seemed ns though the
years had worked long, and slow, ant





Should lie put it away now: A long
sharp, bitter wrcstle, his heart turnin,
hard and cold within him sometimes
and then some voice Of the past, som
thought of the future melting him again
and his fingers moving uncertainty to
ward the pen in the great iron inkstan,
on the desk.


Back and forth, back and forth, til
small figure, the old wrinkled face, tn
thin gray hair, the loud sounds outsd
growing lower all the time, until the
became rumbling thunder, and twiligl
gathering over the vast city, and the oil
man still walking, and God in heave
watching over all.


At last the thin jaws locked then
selves together. There was that deadl
gieam of resolve in the gray eyes whic
bodied no good to Benjamin Hatch. I'll
old man took his hat, drew OH his glove
and went out to the corner of the sire,
and signaled car; then of = sudden Il
old, worn face, the STOPPING shoulder
the dropping hands of the figure whit


had dragged past him on the street 81


months ago rose up before John Barro


What wrought within him / can n


tell but just as the car paused, he mat


swift gesture with his hand, turn.


back, walked resolutely to his Office
the boy was just locking the door; Il
old man went to his desk, seized his pc
wrote an order for twenty thousand dc


lars, signed it with the name of tt
house of Barron & CO.. and directed til
to his old enemy Benjamin Hatch.
Then he went out once more into II
street. They were beginning to lig
the lamps now. Perhaps John Barre
did not know it, but he had done tt
best and greatest work of his life tn
, day.


Two months had passed. 1t was


October; the month had been full
fierce gales, driving on black wings f
f inland and sweeping the sea with bari
ness and tcmpests and wreck.


The son and daughter of John Barre
had sailed for Europe in the golde


calms with which the month had ente


ed its appointed place in the year. III
4 s.:, f.:. II. ~ l..