Connecticut western news., 1880-10-27

A J | moment is precious. It may be long be- fore we meet again, Madgie we may never meet in this world. Heaven bless you always, darling; may you be as happy as wish you."
 "Phil, you mustn't go What have you to do with Millbay? Phil, Phil come back ]"
 But he was already far down the ave- nue, obeying far more powerful voice than Madgie Mason 's-the voice of duty.
 Millbay was 8 remote ifs hing village, about eleven miles from Broadbay, situ- ated in low, marshy inlet of the sea, and surrounded by stagnant swamps. The people were poor, ignorant, ill-fed, worse-clad, and the low, unhealthy sit uation of the village, and undrained, unventilated houses, made them pe- culiarly liable to disease of all sorts. It was there Phil Bentick turned his steps unhesitatingly. With brave heart he entered Doctor Daventry's resi- dence, and took his duties on himself. For weeks the disease ragged with un- usual violence; whole families were car ried of, young and old alike; and with want, approaching famine, and virulent disease, Doctor Bentick struggled alone. No help came from any quarter. The inhabitants of Millbay were always se- cluded, and the place was summed as if plague-stricken. Even the postman who toiled through the marshes twice week forsook the place. Rank grass grew thickly in the middle of the long, strag- gling High street; the boats drifted out with the tide unheeded; and the stealthy tread of some stricken parent or child, seeking assistance to bury their dead, was the only sound that broke the awful 'sultry stillnes of the long, scorching Au- gust days.
 "This is terrible p Phil said to him. self one evening as he walked wearily along the sea coast, gasping for breath of fresh air. "Thank Heaven, Daventry is nearly well, for I feel I cannot stand it much longer. Mentally and physi- cally am worn out, and more likely to do harm than good. If I could only shut out this frightful picture for an hour, and get one breath of untainted air, I should feel better"
 At that moment low m oan sounded somewhere near, and pausing he leaned over the wall to see from whom it came Unconsciously he had reached the vil- lage graveyard, lonely spot by the shore, only distinguished from the sur rounding marshes by few rude head stones and rugged wooden crosses, and row upon row of new-made graves. By one of them woman was kneeling, scratching with both feeble hands at a small fresh mound of earth, while now and again low moan burst from her lips. She was ill, weak, emaciated, and the doctor recognized her as woman who had suffered severely-recovering as by miracle, having lost her husband and five children. Three days before he had seen her with an infant in her arms, the only living thing left her; now it lay beneath her ragged cloak, the last ot all her flock.
 Vaulting over the low wall, the doctor approached her gently.
 My goodwoman, what are you doing here?' he whispered, laying his hand or her shoulder.
 "Let me bury my dead p she cried, fiercely, pointing to her cloak. "Ge away, and leave me with my people,"
 "No, no-let me;'' and taking { spade that lay near, he dug grave, ant reverently placed the tiny form, wrapped in it's mothers cloak, in it; then he GOV
 cred it over hurriedly, and taking tho
 wretched mother by the arm, led he1
 from the spot.
 "Heaven forever bless you, sir," sht
 said, bursting into tears, as she took. {
 last look at the little grave. "Now an
 indeed alone, the last of my name ant
 race-father, mother, husband, children
 friends, all gone," and"she sank down b, the open gateway, and refused to nov
 further. "Let me die here, sir" sh
 cried, "here beside my loved ones What have done that the Almight,
 should leave me ?"
 Sick at heart, the doctor turned away
 Such scenes had not been uncommon il Millbay during the preceding month
 but he had never witnessed anyth1n. f like it, and the horror of it was on hi mind during the weary weeks that fol lowed, for he too was seized with tn l frightful illness, stricken down as wit! F @ sudden blow. For weeks he lay hoy 8 ering between life and death, and whe l he awoke to consciousness the first fac l he saw bending over him was that (
 the poor mother he had seen before hi
 illness. Day and night she had tende B him with unceasing care, and seemed t D forget her own illness and sorrow i | watching over him. It was the end ( V August when he was taken ill, it was tn .- middle of October before he was able t
 creep feebly out of doors and sit in th t sunshine. Once only had he looked in D mirror, and then the reflection of h e scanned, scared, ivid face staggere ,- him. On no one had the disease mad 1T such fearful ravages yet not soul wh @ survived in the village of Millbay b, r blessed every seam, and dreverenced ever
 purple scar, and found a beauty in thel l. that might be coveted by an ange l. Surely it was their prayers and bles
 ings, their looks of love and tears
 gratitude, that reconciled him at last 1 IF his terribly altered appearance. elf n if love was hopeless before, it's doubly { l. now," he said to himself one da, ], "Did any one ever hear, I wonder, of ir pock- marked hero and yet it was 6