OCR Text |
Show NOT QUITE THE USUAL STORY. Wanderer Had Not Returned to Enrich En-rich Native Town. It was Old Home week, and the returned re-turned sons and grandsons had been telling with more or less pride of the changes time had wrought for them. At last Edward Jameson spoke: 4 1 went away from here twenty years ago a poor young man with only one solitary dollar In my pocket. I walked the 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 pur-e guess how much my purse holds In money to-day, besides a largo check," and Mr. Jameson looked look-ed about him with a brilliant smile. "Fifty dollirs!" "Seventy-five!" "A hundred!" shouted tho hoys, filled with admiration. "No," said Mr. Jameson, drawing a large, flit purse from his pocket when the clamor had subsided, "none of you have guessed right. When I had paid tho twenty-fve cents to Ozzy Boggs fov my refreshing drlvo in tho coach I had, besides my trunk check (which I retained for financial reasons), exactly four cents. I havo come back, my friends, to stay. Any little Jobs of sawing and splitting will bo gratefully received." Youth's Companion. |