Aberdeen Herald

How Williams Came to Go Back East.

Williams of Rhode Island was down on his luck. He had been five years in the gold State, and had confidently looked forward to each succeeding year's enabling him to go back home and make things comfortable for the woman and little ones. But each succeeding year had found him precisely where the previous one had left him - a sanguine prospector, with a wealth of hope and a pitifully small outfit.

But this last find had been different. He had taken out sixty dollars a day for a week, and with this substantial evidence of coming prosperity had written a letter which filled the far-away home with sudden joy. Then the vein had disappeared, and he had picked and shoveled and hauled away dirt until his money was exhausted.

But the gold was there, he was sure of it; and his confidence had induced the trader at Three Forks to advance him funds. However, there had been a shaft to sink, a solid rock to cut through; and it had all been expensive. When it was accomplished the money was gone - and there was no vein.

He was still confident; but the trader was angry, and had accused him of false pretenses. Only this morning he had received intimation that the Sheriff was about to levy on his mine - on his Molly, named after the dear one it was to do so much for.

He was aroused by approaching footsteps. When he looked up two men stood before him. One of them was the owner of the adjoining claim; the other was the Sheriff.

"I have come to--." began the officer.

"Yes, yes, I know." Williams of Rhode Island rose heavily to his feet. "It's all right. Just go ahead. I can do nothing."

The sheriff looked at him curiously. "Oh, 'tain't quite so bad as that," he laughed, "I did 'low on makin' a levy; but Kansas here has been tellin' me something that has changed my plans. You needn't bother about the bill jest now."

"I s'pose you heerd 'bout my luck?" Kansas asked, blandly.

"I've got a pretty vein." Kansas went on frankly; "but hit dips to'ard your'n land. If thar's a pocket I 'low hit's acrost your line. I don't s'pose ye'd be willin' to sell out, clean; but if ye'll go pards I'll give ye ten thousand for a half share." He waited a moment, but as there was no reply, added: "I'll make it twenty for a clean job; but of course ye won't quit?"

Williams of Rhode Island looked down into the valley, and up the mountain; and then across to the east, where the sun was just rising above the pines.

"Yes, I'll quit," he said, huskily; "you can buy me out clean. I'm going home."

- Philadelphia Times.