The Columbia Democrat. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1837-1850, 1838-07-28

opened almost Of themselves to her former
friends or new acquaintances. and more
than one guest at time took his seat at her
dinner table.
Quar- was, as may be supposed, always
welcome; and he had this advantage, that
come when he might she was at home to
him.
Nothing less could be expected from so
old friend, and no one could possibly find
fault with her for that, youwill allow
One day, in the midst of an animated
conversation with her amiable favourite,
Madame SCHNEIDER all at once burst into
tears, complaining of pain in her side and
violent headache. Quarz was "aur petit
soins," and did and said all that might
have been expected of him in such
case.
Madame SCHNEIDER went to bed and sent
for physician.
Well, you will say, what is there extra
ordinary in that! Yesterday had stich
in my side and headache, and what can
they have to do with your aeecdote!
Don't be impatient--much. AS you
shall hear.
Quarz was seated by her bedside when
the doctor entered. He felt her pulse, and
his lips expressed, by slight, but signih-
cant contraction, that he entertained no very
favourable opinion of her symptoms: whilst
Quarz kept his eye constantly fixed on her
pale countenance, where the finger OF death
seemed to have set its fatal seal. He was
sad and motionless, and awaited in silence
the stern DEGREES of heaven. But the pa
tient had perceived the evil augury OF the
physicians eve.
81 see,'' said she with feeble voice, 81
see, alas! that am doomed to die. Doctor,
l am grateful to you. had rather know the
the worst, than fatter myself with vain
delusion."
"Well," said he, "since must, since all
the aid of medicine is vain, | leave you,
madam" lie cast melancholy glance at
Quarz, who was now really affected.
The patient expressed wish to be alone
and Quarz and the doctor retired to an ad'
dining chamber.
Some minutes afterwards, they were
again summoned.
"Joachim," said the dying lady, address
ing Quar-, "you perceive that | am abou
to leave you. But before l quit this world
before take my eternal rest, | have on
favor to beg of you-one only-say, vii
you refuse 1t ON my death-bed!"
You may imagine the reply; Quarz dic
what you or would have done in his place
He promised, whatever it might be to com
ply with it.
IL hoped it would be so,' said the wid
ow, with voice still feebler, "but dare
not rely on it. 1t is--that before die
you should make me yours-call me br
your wife. l shall then be the happiest {
women, and have nothing further to wis
for"
The request was singular one, BIT
Quarz had promised, and really the ENGAGE
, Inent bound him to nothing, for, in fe,
moments, the tie would be broken by tn
/ divorce of death.
He therefore consented with good grace
and sent for notary public. The dee
r was drawn up in due form, He signed
: The doctor signed it as witness. Th
widow, with trembling hand, affixed he
:, signature to the paper; and all was over.
n But all was not over.
f "Doctor!" cried Mrs. Quarz, jun pin
y nimbly, and completely dressed, out of bet
g II am not so near the point of death as yo
imagine, and have every inclination to hv
long for my husband"
d Now look upon the tableGu. The asto
Il ishment of the two witnesses-the notar
=. wiping his spectacles, thinking his eyes d
n ceived him-the doctor biting his nails
ID being deceived, as well as the rest. On
70 think of doctor being taken in!
a. Quartz, who was we'll pleased with Il