r
his little family. She told of the brave, loving letters that came so
faithfully and the generous remittances to provide for every possible
need in the coming emergency. Then Fortune beckoned him still farther
west, and he obeyed, daring the dangers of that strange, wild country
for the love he bore his wife and his unborn child. From that country
only one letter ever was received from him. Just at that time I was
born, and my life came near costing hers who bore me. For weeks she lay
between life and death, so low that the report of her death reached her
parents, bringing them broken-hearted and, as they supposed, too late to
her humble home. They found her yet living and threw their love and
their wealth into the battle against death. In all this time no news
came from the great West. As soon as she could be moved my mother and
her child were taken to her father's home. Her father forgave her, but
he had no forgiveness for her husband and no love for his child. He
tried to make my mother believe her husband had deserted her, but she
was loyal in her trust in him as in her love for him. She named her
child for his father, 'John,' but as her father would not allow the name
repeated in his hearing she gave him the additional name of 'Darrell,'
by which he was universally known; but in those sacred hours when she
told me of my father and taught me to pray for him, she always called me
by his name, 'John Britton.'"

As he ceased speaking both men rose simultaneously to their feet. The
elder man placed his hands upon the shoulders of the younger, and,
standing thus face to face, they looked into each other's eyes as though
each were reading the other's inmost soul.

"What was your mother's name?" Mr. Britton asked, in low tones.

"Patience--Patience Jewett," replied the other.

Mr. Britton bowed his head with deep emotion, and father and son were
clasped in each other's arms.

When they had grown calm enough for speech Mr. Britton's first words
were of his wife.

"What of your mother, my son,--was she living when you came west?"

"Yes, but her health was delicate, and I am fearful of the effects of my
long absence; it must have been a terrible strain upon her. As soon as I
reached the city this morning I telegraphed an old schoolmate for
tidings of her, and I am expecting an answer any moment."

They talked of the strange chain of circumstances which had brought them
together and of the mysterious bond by which t