The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1880-02-20
PLUcKED FROM THE FLAMES.
An Ene,isl, DOCTORS story.

such aid necessary.
1t was my first introduction to my pro
fessional work Educated in Germany,
and trained in one of the most celebrat-
ed medical schools in London, had but
just obtained my diploma when I was
recommended to the situation L after
wards accepted under DIR. Osborne
And now, on the first evening of my
new career, as / stood in my bedroom
window, peering out into the darkness,
there came to my mind certain words of
an old college friend at Heidelberg:
"ln all places there is a special duty
for each man: and the difficulty is not
to discover it, but to perform it.''
As l thought of these words of Karl
| Won BIshe, turned from the window,
stirred my fire, lit my old German pipe,
with its capaciOus china bowl, and gave
| myself up to reveric. Once more l was
a lad in dear old Heidelberg, with its ia
miliar side streets, narrow and quaint
Then l stood on the Konigstuhl, and
saw before me fair sight of charming
landscape, and the town Nesting at my
| feet. Presently / was back in the rooms
of my old chum, Won Bishe and the fair,
honest faces of our little coterie doomed
| dimly through the clouds of smoke that
enveloped US, as we pulled away as heart
lily as veterans, only removing our pipes
for the purpose of giving expression TO
/ some philosophical remark or quaint
colceit; but, like the refrain of some ia
miliar song, the words / have lust quot
ed required again and again to mind.
Strange how these words seem to
| haunt me tonight / wonder if any
/ special work awaits me here?" NUT
! tered, whereupon l put down my pipe
/ and turned in for the night, and slept
! sound, dreamless sleep for eight hours.
| The next morning met the doctors
| family at breakfast, and found it consist
| ell OF Mrs. Osborne, "A commonplace wO-
man, whose whole soul seemed absorb
ed in her household, and two daughters,
| Clara, an active worker in the parish, and
engaged to the curate, and Sophia, n
strong minded young woman of twenty,
whose ideas of perfect government were
somewhat more impracticable than Pla-
| to's, as the young lady would extend not
| only the franchise to women, but also
! the actual government of the state, de-
claring that women would never receive
their Just rights, political and social, till
| they were able to demand them from
| their seats in parliament.
My first days We're spent in making
the acquaintance of some of my future
patients, under the guidance of DIR. Os-
borne. They were of the usual kind of
rheumatism, lumbago, and many pains
! imaginary rather than real.
We were passing a pleasant old red
brick house, standing well back from the
road, with smooth lawn and several
| fine old elms in front, when the doctor
remarked:
"By the way, want to see the rector;
come in, and I'll introduce you
In Il few moments l was chatting
| pleasantly with the rector about Ger
many and German thought. He was APP
parently well versed in other subjects
than theology.
DIR. Osborne and l were about TO take
our leave when the door opened, and in
stepped fair, delicate-loOking girl 4
neat morning dress and faultless collar
set off her graceful beauty.
She hcsitated for moment on seeing
a stanger, then, coming forward, the rec
tor introduced her as his daughter
! Alice
needed no pressing from Mr. Gray to
call in again for an evening chat
had been several weeks in Farleigh
before having an opportunity to keep my
promise to the rector, owing to the num-
Der of patients that fell to my lot to visit.
l was sitting one evening smoking af-,
| ter the rest of the household had retired,
! and wondering how l could contrive to
get through the next day, in order to &C
cept an invitation to dine at the rectory
when suddenly awoke to the conscious
ness of tender feeling for Miss Gray.
well, will go. DR.. Osborne must
relieve me of a few cases for once
And having come to this determine
ton, gave myself up to delicious half
dreamy consideration of Alice Gray and
her sweet beauty
Of pO1rSa I vxyac OF ha y-aotor,-
ally; and, after dinner, we had musical
evening.
Never shall forget its charm; the ten
der, sympathetic Interpretation of Weber,
and the strong, decided rendering of
some of Bccthoven's magnificent sym
phOnies.
had not thought to hear such playing
in a quiet country parsonage in Eng
land.
In sober, painstaking Germany, where
| music pupils practice from eight to
| twelve hours day, | had scarcely ever
heard such a massively firm, and yet,
withal, refined touch.
Of course / was often at the rectory
after this, and many a pleasant chat en-
Joyed with Mr.. Gray; but whatever the
conversation, or however interesting it
might become, it never altogether xclud-
ed music.
Sometimes Alice would extemporize;
and these occasions were by no means
the least brilliant.
So the happy winter evenings passed,
and the white frozen ground gradually
bloomed into fair spring verdure, and the
pleasant social gatherings that had en-
livened the long evenings were becoming
more rare and distant.
One day, late in April, was told that
Miss Gray was about to pay long-prom-
lsed visit to her uncle, Sir Edward Gray,
| of Hurstholme, some thirty miles dis
tant.
When she had gone l sat down with
my favorite old pipe, and gravely re-
viewed my position.
That l loved Alice very dearly l was
| fully conscious, and perfectly aware that
shs was far superior to me in social DO
sition, as in everything else.
Then, supposing | was so fortunate as
to win her love, how could /, merely an
| assistant to country practitioner, with
| only two thousand pounds in the world,
and utterly destitute of influential
| friends, presume to ask her hand in mar
riage?
Musing thus. and over-tired by hard
days work, l fell asleep in my chair, my
| pipe still within my lips.
/ could not have slept more than a few
minutes, when 1 awoke, to see my old
cherished pipe on the floor, with the
bowl broken.
My face was covered with a heavy
| cold perspiratiOn, and my heart was
bounding wildly in my breast
1 could scarcely imagine that the fear
full dream from which had just awak-
ened was not actual reality.
had been standing in a large park
| the night was just merging into the cold
1 liuhf nf CARLY
| denly the large stately house before me
was enveloped IN flames.
| l saw various faces at windows; but
! one looked down with sad, wistful
| look Our eyes met; and there went out
| from those eyes that looked into mine
such a tender glance that / knew l was
beloved; then the lips parted, and there
came short cry, Save mer' and l
heard fearful crash, as if the house had
fallen in, and / awoke.
And no sooner awake than l felt an
uncomfortable impulse Ia set out for
| Hurstholme. Alice was there, and that
some fearful danger menaced her, was
| my firm conviction.
Hastily scribbling a line to say that l
was called away suddenly, and leaving
the paper on my dressing-table, l hur-
ried to the stable, saddled my horse
without rousing the groom, and in a few
minutes more had left the quiet town of
Fairleigh behind me, and was striking
out for the Canterbury road.
My horse answered to the calls made
upon him right nobly. Away We sped,
past dark farm houses, large country
mansions and humble cottages. Here
and there light in bedroom told of
some long vigil spent in the chamber of
sickness.
On We went, through turnpike gates
opened by grumbling janitors, indignant
l M h. al