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Show NOT QUITE THE U8UAL STORY. ji Wanderer Had Not Returned to En- rich Native Town. B It was Old Homo week, and tho re- 9 turned sons and grandsons had been S tolling with more or less prldo of J tho changes tlmo had wrought for J them. At last Edward Jameson 4 spoke: 'I went away from hero twenty years ago a poor young man with " only ono solitary dollar in my pockot. A I walked tho four miles from my father's farm to the station, and ' there I begged a ride to Boston on a ., freight car. Last night I drove Into town behind a spirited pair of horses, and my purse guess how much my purse holds In monoy to-day, besides : a largo check," and Mr. Jameson look- ed about him with a brilliant smllo. v "Fifty dollars!" j' "Seventy-five!" ij "A hundred!" shouted tho boys, ij filled with admiration. "No," said Mr. Jameson, drawing a large, flat purse from his pocket when tho clamur had subsided, "nono of you have guessed right. When I had paid tho twenty-five cents to Ozzy Boggs for my refreshing drlvo in tho coach I had, besides my trunk check (which I retained for. financial reasons), exnetly four cents. I have j come back, my friends, to stay. Any little Jobs of sawing and splitting will bo grntefully recolved." Youth's Companion. |