The Memphis union appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1862-1862, 1862-07-26

l did not believe him. His face was not that
of dying man, snd the wounds scarcely
seemed dangerous. "These bullets are bad
things to have in ones side 1 said, but men
have lived through more than that. Cheer
up =
man. at shan't leave no children nor no wife
to fre. after me and suffer for want of my rife
/ never hev been much afesrd of death. But
] tell you all you can dos no use. There's q
sign that can't be mistook."
The group about the bed glanced at each
other, and the woman shook her head at me
as though she would have said Never mind
his words"
/ did what I could for him The bullets
were extracted, the wounds bound up. He
was weak, but not desperately so. 1 looked at
him ard smiled. How row :" said /.
"Tain't no use-the watch Is stopping fast
be answered.
Then for the first time l noticed that beside
him on the bed lay great old-fashioned silver
watch, the case battered, the face discolored,
and that it ticked with strange dull sound,
as though it were very old and feeble.
"The watch has been injured by the bullets,
l suppose said / /" besides, all watches stop
at times
" Not this one, stranger, said the wounded
uldB 4nCN We 4DOuk tHak RAbCA \
hundred times now they'll find my story's
true, / reckon. That watch and will stop at
the same minute
The woman at the bedside shook her head
again. .It's an old fancy o yourn, Mike
Barlow, she said you'll live to see the folly
of it."
$50 they talk" said the man. I" Now listen,
docter. You've come for to see me, and done
all you could. III give you that watch. It's
money valley arnt much, but it'll dc you ser
vice. It was give to me by an old French
man, out o Canady, when he was layin just
| as l am lsyin. 1t had been his fathers, and
his grandtathers, and his great-grandfather's
before that; and this is what he told me about
IT, and this is what you'll find to be truth. That
watch will tick slow and steady, reg lar as the
sun, as leng as whoever it belongs to is well,
and safe, and thriving. When there's danger
coming, it begins to go fast, faster, and faster
and faster, until it is past, and logd that
you can hear it across the room as plain n if
you held it in your hand. When death is
coming, that watch begins to stop 1t goes
slower and slower. Its voice grows hollow
and, when the breath leaves the body, there's
no more sound to be heard. and all you can
do won't make it go for year. At the end of
that time it will start all of sudden, and after
that time you can resd your fate by it and
KNOW your 0eaiu uOuF- 1t WIS SO aiI6F Ola
Pierre died 1t will be so now. Keep the
watch when I'm gone, doctor.
could not help looking with some interest
at the battered time-piece. A strange story
had been woven about it, and the msrvelous
always had charm for me.
l sat beside my patient until be sunk to
sleep. He seemed to be doing well STILL and
/ had no doubt but that the morning light
would see him greatly better. But western
hospitality would not permit of nv departure
a. that late hour, and was lodged in an upper
chamber upon bed as clean and simple as it
wasfragrsnt. l slept soun6ly. At midnight,
| however l was awakened by the news that
my patient was worse. He had awakened in
mortal agony. Some inward injury, impos-
sible to discover, had done its work. ] said
nothing of hope now, and the dying man
looked at me with CHASTITY smile.
"Take the watch, he said. "Watch it and
me; you will find me right
These were the last words he uttered. He
muttered incoherently after this, tossed hls
arms about, and struggled for his breath. At
last he seemed to sink into slumber. My
hand was on his heart. | felt its beatings grow
faint, fainter, fainter still. At last there was
no motion. He was dead. l lifted the watch
to my ear-that had stopped also!
There were tears in the eyes of the rough
men about me, and the woman wept as she
might for one of her own kindred. / could
do no good now, ond I turned away, leaving
the watch upon the coverlid, but one of the
men came after me.
"He give it 70 you, he said, and it's
your'n. He had nobody belongin' to him, SC
you needn't be Altered to take it. He mus
hev taken likin' to you, for he thought &
hesp Of it. Take it, doctor" And so the
watch was mine.
1t was dumb and motioniess, and remained
So l took it to a matchmaker, and he laughed
at the idea of its ever going again. This wa
after had left the West and dwelt in a larg,
and populous city in the Eastern States, SOM
eight or nine months after poor Mike Barlow
death. The matchmaker only confirmed m!
own suspicious. It was a strange COINCIDENCE
that il should last exactly its masters lifetime
but that was all. So / hung it upon m,
chamber wall, a memento of those days of toi
and struggle in the far West.
One morning awoke early. The blushe
of dawn were just breaking over the earth. !
, was the month of November, bat still the da
was lovely. There was an unwanton SCUM
: in my room. At first could not guess fror
, whence it came. Had the sky been cloudy
should have imagined it to be the rain upo
! the Roof. Then began to feel that thi
sound / heard was too delicate for th
+; patter OF rain 1t might nave been the clan
of fairy hammer, or the tapping of the bea
of some minute bird, save that it was too regu
4 lar But the mystery of the sound was ths
|. it seemed to appeal to me-to reproach m
with forgetting it.
:. / sat up and looked about me. In an il
Y slant understood the sound. 1t was the tic
4 of the old watch upon the wall. Silent for
= twelvemonth, it had suddenly found voice,
!. though some spirit hand had touched i
,. springs. looked st my memorandum boo
Twelve o'clock of the past night was the al
O niversary of Mike Barlow's death. His wort
= had come true at last. He had said ths
: when it once again began to move, it would
a as my monitor of safety or danger. All Ell
e had happened as he had foretold; why shou
. not this come to pass 1 wore upon my guar
f.aal- i