Not doubting but that it was the Notary, he was preparing to answer--"I can't take it, up," when a well-dressed stranger, with a dark, sun-burnt, countenance that had in it many familiar lines, passed before him, and fixed his eyes with an earnest look upon his face.

For a few moments the two men regarded each other in silence, and then the stranger reached out his hand and uttered the single word-- "Father!" "Andrew!" responded Mr.Howland, catching eagerly hold of the offered hand; "Andrew! my son! my son! are you yet alive ?" The great deep of the old man's heart was suddenly broken up, and he was overwhelmed by the rising floods of emotion.

His lips quivered; there was a convulsive play of all the muscles of his face; and then large tears came slowly over his cheeks.

The man of iron will was melted down; he wept like a child, and his son wept with him.
Scarcely had the first strong emotions created by this meeting exhausted themselves, when another person entered the store, and advanced to where the father and son were standing.

He held a small slip of paper in his hand, and as he came up to Mr.Howland, he said, holding up the piece of paper-- "Your note for fifteen hundred dollars remains unpaid." "I'm sorry, but I can't lift it," replied Mr.Howland, in a low voice that he wished not to reach the ear of his son; but Andrew heard the answer distinctly, and instantly drawing a large pocket book from his pocket, took out a roll of bank bills which he reached to his father, saying, as he did so-- "Take what you want.