Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1870-11-12
[From the German.
ALL THINGS FOR THE BEST,

The stage stopped in front of the tavern,
but "minc host" when he stepped out
into the dimly lighted street, did not at
first recognize the face Of the driver.
"Good God - he uttered, at last, in
tones Of the deepest surprise: i" How
comes it that you are holding the lines,
Master Stephen? Anything happened to
Billy"
"I left him in -, dead from cholera
and as thcro was no ono there we'll enough
to take his place. drove tho horses over
here myself, rs I'd like to look after my
people, from whom have not heard for q
week."
"I.ike as not they're all dead-evcry
body dies now-though l haven't heard
for ccrtain."
At any other time the speech would have
been heartless; as it was-the cholera rag
ing. and people dying in such appalling
numbers that the only question Of practi-
cal interest remaining was. how to bury
them quickest out Of sight fell almost
unheeded on the ear Of the young man,
who was pursuing his way in the direction
Of his fathers house. No answer came to
his loud knocking: and though he could
sec through the closed window.shutter no
light that suggested watch with the sick
or dying, still the very silence that reigncd
might be the silence Of death. Again his
vigorous knock sounded on the door panel !;
window on the opposite side Of the street
was raised, and voice spoke
Who is it knocking there? If it is
Mr.. Black, the undertaken, there is moth
ing to fetch away, in that house hut you
may como back tomorrow and take some
thing in this. Do you understand ! Come
back tomorrow; there will be something
in this house for you then"
Hattie - exclaimed the young man.
"Goodness bc praised that you arc still
awake. Tell me"
"What4 Stephen! How did you come
here-and why do you come now, when
We are all about to dic?"
"Come down, Hattie open the door,
and tell me-" Again she interrupted
him:
"You don't know what you are saying.
What have you to do in this house Of
death! Leave tho town, as quickly as
you can it is no joke to die, after all
particularly when one is still young. My
aunt died first; then the little lame tailor,
down stairs after that, my poor little
brother-and now IL is my turn. Bat no
one need look on when I die for it is an
ugly sight, and no one can help. Still, !
am glad to have seen you once more, Mr..
Ringold; so good night, and when you see
Sophy-"
aFor the love Heaven, Hattie, what has
become Of my peoples Ifit is tho worst,
let me know it.'s
You may rest easy; they. ont to
Sophy's. three days ago. She and hel
husband, the minister, would give. them
no rest till your mother consented; and
when your father still refused to leave his
towusmeu in their distress, your mother
pretended to feel the symptoms of The
epidemic coming on her; aud so they both
went with your sister. They wanted Z
take me, too; but my aunt was not ye'
buried. Your mother wrote you all about
Il, though; did you not get the letter I"
"Not line. But about yourself, Hat
tie it must have been dreadful for you
your aunt and brother both dead !"
"Yes," replied the girl at the window
ip . tone which for the first time strucl
Stephen as singularly tranquil and apa
thetic. I" It Was dreadful. am glad my
time has come at last-that / can 60 to
place where I can sleep, and need no
smell tho vinegar and famigating stuff an!
more, nor hear tho continual crying ant
groaning. As there is no one left h
mourn for mo, it makes no difference
how soon I 60. 1 had wished to SCI
you once more but it is dark now. and
can only see your white hat. Good-by
Mr.. Riugold, and don't quite forget"
"Stop talking nonsense, Hattie" salt
Stephen, half compassiouately, half angri