The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1869-07-29

The patient sprang up in,bed. q Do you
mean to tell me, doctor, that I am dy-
ing?e "Oh, no." said the doctor, kind
ly; hope not, and [ trust that many
years are in store for you; still, If there
is any matter of business for you TO set
tie, settle it. Life is always uncertain;
and it is best to be prepared for all con-
tingencies."
aDoctor," said the sick man, "you
cannot deceive me- You think am dy-
ing, and you do not like to tell me the
truth. Well I have toiled and struggled.
and screwed. and saved for forty years,
and thought that at the last l was gong
to enjoy myself for little while before
the end. And now you tell me am dy,,
inc. All can say it is a." He added
two words that were very tragic, very
comic, very lamentable, very unrepeata-
Bile turned his face to the wall, and never
spoke more.
Fourth on my list of the unhappy rich,
is a gentleman who retired at the age OF
fifty, from a large and prosperous busl-
ness, with the expectation that his share
of the partnership would amount to halt
million sterling. This expectation was
not realized. On settlement OF ac-
counts. and valuation of the assets be-
tween him and his partners, it was found
that his share fell little, but not much,
short of two hundred thousand pounds.
This was q grievous disappointment. All
his life, from very early youth, he had
overworked his weary brain.
He had been unwisely eager to grow
rich, and had oyertasked the energies
both CT his body and mind, in the attempt
to build up fortune, and to become the
founder Of family that should rank
among the first in the country in which
he resided. He loved wealth for it's own
sake, and with love beyond reason:
Though clear fortune of two hundred
thousand pounds, or even half the money,
would seem to most men something 10 be
grateful for, and to be we'll enjoyed, and
we'll secured, it did not seem so to this
greedy man, who had made money his
idol, and the only object of reverence in
the world. His brain was weakened by
the hard work expended in making and
taking care of this magnificent, but to
hi disappointing sum, and he brooded
so much over the failure to reach the halt
million he had so long calculated upon
amassing, that symptoms of alteration
of intellect were soon apparent to his
family. His brain softened, and in less
than twelvemonth after the winding up
of his partnership, his mind was wholly
gone, and it became necessary to place
him under the protection Of keepers.
My last rich mana very rich man he
was-an owner not of hundreds Of thou
sands, but of milions-was not unhappy;
but was, on the contrary, cheerful and
happier than most men are permitted to
be in the world. But, strange to say, his
happiness arose, not from his real wealth,
but from his imaginary poverty. At the
close of long, honorable and useful life,
he took it into his head that the world
had entered into conspiracy to reduce
him to pauperism, and that he should end
his days in the work-house. 1t was in
vain to argue the point with him. His
faith was fixed and settled. He came to
the conviction, though the possessor OF
millions, that he was dejure and de facto
pauper, and reduced in his old age to
labor for his daily bread. When he con-
snlted his son, who was to be the inhcrtor
OF his vast wealth, as to what was to be
done under these unhappy circumstances,
the son, acting under medical advice, Of
fered to settle a handsome annuity upon
his father.
The pride of the old gentleman was
aroused. "No! mol" he said: "glve me
employment, I mistill bale and hearty.
I have always taken pleasure in garden.
ing. Mako me your gardener and | will
do my duty like man; and. will owe
no man anything, except my thanks to
ou, my dear son, for giving me employ
naent such as is consistent with my self,
respect to accept. And, mind you, l will
accept no more than the usualwages, and
no less" Still acting under medical ad-
vice, the son humored the harmless delu
sion of the father, ana paid him regular
ly his weekly wages. At last the old
man died, happy that he could earn his
honest bread to the last, and happy still
in the consciousness that he had so good
son.
A DocToR AS is DocToR.-A self-suffi-
- b,. ,,,bo foo1- nm tho hucinnaa