The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1878-12-17

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into the house again, and the doctor
went homewaid. But instead of going
to the front.gate, he turned into the lit
tie street that ran by the side of the cot
tage, and softly entered his office Ivy
means of key which he carried in his
pocket. His first step when there was
to close the tight outside shutters. AS he
drew them to they touched the branches
of the trees and Towering shrubs, and
shook down showers of heavy dewdrops
and set the rich perfumes flowing in
fuller clouds
The night was lovely, fresh, still, and
starlight but he shut it all out, care
fully drawing the curtains, and placing
screens around n table at the upper end
of the Office. This done, he lighted an
argand lamp that hung over the table,on
which, by means of reflectors, he turned
the full brilliancy of its clustered flames
Then he brought out case of instru-
ments, a pair of gloves, q basin, and
towel.
Finally, he went noisely out and
walked around the office. Not ray of
light shone from the closely muflled
windows. Assured of that, he seated
himself on the doorstep and waited.
1t might have been two hours before
he heard careful step approaching, and
in few minutes man came up to the
Office door, bearing burden in his arms.
Not word passed between the two as
the doctor received in his arms this bur-
den, and going with it into his office,
shut the door and locked it behind him.
The other man went away as noiselessly
as he had come.
Doctor Thayer carried his burden to
the table at the upper end of the Office,
and laid it there. Then, folding back
first dark old shawl, then veil of
white cloth ,he revealed the lovely waxen
face of poor little Rose Paulier.
"Dear little creaturel" he said, an
impulse of tender pity stirring for a mo-
ment his professional composure. cit
was pity she should die!''
But there was something so pathetic
in the face of the child that he could not
help pausing moment to mediate upon
it, No mother, no father, no relative,
no friend even, to take care of her dur
ing her sickness, to smooth the hair
when she dead, to adorn the small, cold
form for its last sleep.
The hands fell at her side as he undid
the cloth that wrapped her, and not u
ribbon, nor flower, nor bit of lace hid
the baroness of the coarse, plain robe in
which she was dressed. She was lovely,
too. A dead child is almost always love
ly, but this child had beauty of her
own, beside the luminous whiteness, the
chilly serenity, the inexpressible solemn
sweetness which death had brought her.
Doctor Thayer was something besides a
physician ,he was an artist; and foronce
his profession was forgotten, and instead
of searching for knowledge, he paused to
admire beauty. How long and curved
the dark fringes to those white lips !
With his gaze fixed intently and uncon-
sciously on those closed orbs, he recol-
lected the last time he had seen her, her
pretty, shy way, her indignant grief
when he had laughed at her, and the
tears that had flashed in the beautiful
eyes now shut and fearless forever.
1t had seemed trifle to him then, but
now he reproached himself with having
been heartless and cruel. In thought
less moment he had wounded the heart
and suffused the eyes of the little one
whose whole short life had been life of
sorrow, and he had done it when he was
happy; and when she had been doing
the little possible to her to serve the one
he loved best. Now, as fitting end to
her deserted and friendless existence, her
lifeless body, instead of dropping peace
fully to dust beneath the turf, was ex-
humed to serve that science which could
not serve her, even in preserving a few
pitiful years.
vow, hate to touch the poor, for
saken beauty!" the doctor said, rising
erect after having bent over her for
some time, and drawinga deep breath as
he spoke.
He stood moment looking on the
lovely waxen image that lay there in
the strong light helpless, in his power,
seeming also, by its quietness to trust
him, and strange, vague superstitions
began to stir his brain, and reach down
to his heart. He shrunk from touching