The Portland daily press., 1875-09-18


baby, and the voice in my dreams stopped
calling "Papa!' as regularly as it had before.
meant that boy from the first for doc
tor, by way of continuing the family hunt
after the which never seemed to find;
and, as for Molly, the sunshine came into
her face again, though there was always
sadness in her eyes; and she stopped going
TO the door and looking out-ndeed was her
old self once more. was still little whim-
steal, and sometimes 1 could not help hear.
ing little Sunbeam's voice calling, Papa!
papa! papa!' over and over out of the hight.
: Raindrops, particularly, had peculiar effect
on me, and l would have strange fances--
When the wind and rain kept tapping the pane,
With fitfu fingers kept tapping the pane,
Kept tapping again and again and again.
as some dreamer of poet, who has really
listened to raindrops and caught their gusty
rhythm, expresses their pattering against the
window. Then l would think of a grass
grown grave out in the rain and hear baby
voice calling "Papav' out there in the rain !;
and then I would fancy heard baby feet
patteriDg on the door stone, and get up and
open the door, to find that there was moth
ing there. All me! the links that bind to the
dead are often stronger than the links that
bind to the living.
But little Willie talked ecociously-prom-
Using in doctor-and walked precociously-
promising in doctor. He was boy before
he got through being baby; and again the
old trundle-bed came down FROM the garnet,
and ManX was left to dose on the floor, the
junior Needham, M. D., becoming its pro-
prietor, with no proviso about taking ManX
as huzzy. Molly and sat up all night the
first night, but the little doctor slept soundly.
The second night passed, and DIR. Needham,
jr., opened his great gray eyes in the morn
ing the had his grandmother's eyes exactly
and Justify demanded his breakfast. Once
more tie little medical manikin was put to
bed at half past seven in the trunde-bed;
but the next morning the great gray eyes did
not open, and their owner had no occasion
for breakfast.
After that there were two little tombstones
in the old graveyard under the hill, and two
voices to call to me "Papa! papap' two ever
lasting trundle- beds tor me to visit in the
moonlight. The old trundle bed was car
ried up garrett again, whence l never ex-
pected it would come down. l tried TO for
get myself in my profession, and came to a
sort of loving understanding with the old
sign-board announcing me as Job Needham,
M. D., which year in and year out had waXed
more and more confidential. But the two
voices from the two little graves would not
let me forget. There was no stiffness in
which they did not call "Papa! papaP' first
one, and then the other, and no hustle in
which I did not always hear them; and
Molly forgot, OR seemed to forget, her own
grief in her anxiety about what the neighbors
called my hippo.
There is something in transmigration, after
all, Tor the third baby was little Sunbeam
over again, and reproduced her so wildly
that l half forgot the Sunbeam that had been
in the Sunbeam that was; and one of the
voices stopped calling from the grave as little
Violet learned to lisp her ''papa."
So the day came for the trundebed TO
come down from the garnet again; but Molly
| insisted upon having new one, associating
| with mothers superstition fatality with
| the quaint old frame that had Graded gener.
| had died in that trundle-bed, she said, and
| if the baby must sleep in a trundle-bed, she
| would have new one. 1t came home. and
was set up and was dedicated to little Violet
| molly would never allow me to call her Sun
beam). For three nights, alternating, Molly
| and sat up,a and little Violet opened her eyes
| on the fourth morning. The fatality night
| was passed, and Molly and went about that
| day with strange thankfuness in our hearts
and slumbered on the fourth night with a
| peaceful slumber.
But peace came never again. Little Vic
| let was dead. and the fatality had not been
| in the trundle bed. Externally things settled
into their old round, only there were three
little graves in the graveyard: Agnes, aged
two years; William, aged two years; Violet,
| aged two-an awful monotony of that fatal
numeral; and there were three little voices
to call "Papa papa! papap' first one, and
| then the other, then the recent third. They
| did not think 1 heard them, perhaps; but
| did, and used to keep answering even in the
sick-room; "Lie still, little one; papa'll be
there presently" And when had answer
| ed, the voices would stop calling for a few
| ing to wait patiently; but presently l would
hear them commence calling again. The C
| was nothing to me now, and the unknown
| quantity not worth toiling after.
There is TRANSPORTATION of essences, l am
| sure, or else God made little Job TO be Agnes
and William, by way OF compensation; fol-
| God works ~onderful compensation Ia
| this world, if men had but the heart to un-
| derstand them. named him Job after my
self, and somehow that name, ugly as it was,
seemed to comfort both Molly and me
though still l would hear the three baby
voices calling from the three little trundle-
beds the sexton had made in the graveyard.
Manx-he was old ManX rOw-was still liv-
ing, sleepy old fellow, except in his moods,
and still competent for a tablespoonful OF
brandy and water or a pipe of Honradez, to
say nothing of craving for pickles But no.
body suspected him now of being the devil,
il he ever had been, although he was still a
pillar of fire now and then in the dark.
| In due season the trundle-bed came down
| from the dusty garnet, where Mollie had been
in the habit of going every day to cry over it,
and Job Needham, jr., with many quams
and tremors, was installed proprietor. -Four
| nights, alternating. Mollie and l kept vigil,
and DR.. Needham jr., opened his eyes in the
| morning as if there had been no fatality in
our family in third and fourth nights and in
tfundle-beds, The last night happened to
fall to my lot, and about midnight l drifted
away into half doze, and was just listening
to the three little voices from the graveyard,
and was trying to make out which was
which, when I was startled out of my browse
with sudden shock, succeeded by strange
premonition of impending calamity. The
candle was burning dimly on the stand, and
as bent to listen to little Jobs breathing
caught the CLEAN Of two lurid eyebails peer
ing into the room from the cathode cut in
the lower corner of the door. The room
was not properly bedroom. 1 started, and
the eyebals disappeared.
Then it was, in that terribly excited state
of the nerves. that the idea took possession of
me. Properly had inherited it as dor
mant mania from my mother, who was halt
AAou oh ehO ouDJNSps A SuPSASeAeAN.A'
is something more than mere. imagining
handed down from generation to generation;
it is an hereditary faint of insa1ity-an il
herited bent of the nervous system that stores
up forces, and will have its way sometimes,
however reason and culture may protest. The
strange superstitions Of barbaric races are
bad physical conditions of correlated or
psychical results, or rather as fundamental
bents Of nervous organization, just as trans
Missile and nearly as ineradicable as the
contour of nose. 1t is folly, friend to talk
of eradicaLing superstition by mere intellectu-
al culture; reform in physical conditions
must precede. second and conserve the intel
lectual element, or the latter is nearly nuga-
tory. make these remarks in explanation
of my own case. 1 had had the intellectual
culture without the physical. and, when the
day came, the dormant mania asserted itself
with an energy that my reason could no
more control than it could control an attack
of neuralgia.
carried my revolver with me to the office
the next morning, with the intention of
shooting old Manx at the first opportunity.
He did not come mewing at the Office door
all that day, and l carried it back again at
night called myself fool about once in
ten minutes. from seven o'clock in the morn
ing until bedtime, and 1 called myself fool
particularly when put my revolver in my
pocket and carried it no ne again, with the
mention OF shooting old Manx if he but once
L. ~:r,A TOD n1DA