but the Poor Farm.... Nathaniel had been away from home for many years;
rumors came back, occasionally, that he was going to make his fortune
by some patent, and Jonesville said that if he did it would be a good
thing for the town, for Nathaniel wasn't one to forget his friends.
"He'll give us a library," said Jonesville, grinning; "Nat was a great
un for books." However, Jonesville was still without its library, when,
one August day, the stage dropped a gentle, forlorn figure at the door
of Dyer's Hotel.

"I'm Nat May," he said; "well, it's good to get home!"

He brought with him, as the sum of his possessions, a dilapidated
leather hand-bag full of strange wheels and little reflectors, and
small, scratched lenses; the poor clothes upon his back; and
twenty-four cents in his pocket. He walked hesitatingly, with one
hand outstretched to feel his way, for he was nearly blind; but he
recognized old friends by their voices, and was full of simple joy
at meeting them.

"I have a very wonderful invention," he said, in his eager voice, his
blind eyes wide and luminous; "and very valuable. But I have not been
financially successful, so far. I shall be, of course. But in the
city no one seemed willing to wait for payment for my board, so the
authorities advised me to come home; and, in fact, assisted me to do
so. But when I finish my invention, I shall have ample means."

Jonesville, lounging on the porch of Dyer's Hotel, grinned, and said,
"That's all right, Nat; you'll be a rich man one of these days!" And
then it tapped its forehead significantly, and whispered, "Too bad!"
and added (with ill-concealed pleasure at finding new misfortune to