St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1880-11-12

ken to him. really do not know what
to do"
81 do" said Mrs. Sterile, her cheeks
growing red. "He must have better
care than he can have here, or he'll die,
surely. Lift this bed on to the sled and
take him down to Millcote." For that
was what they called their little nest in
the woods.
1 sect Mr.. Sterle's face frightened
up, though he made some objections,
on account of the trouble it would give
his wife. But she wouldn't hear to him,
and think 1 never was gladder of any
thing in my life than I was when we
got him safely down there.
She opened the door of her own
room, on the ground floor and we car
ried him iu and laid him on the bed. I
tell you, havin' just come out of camp
and all, it did seem just like Heaven
in that white, quiet room, where the
Blessed Virgin and the Holy Child
were hangin' on the wall. High up
against the ceilin', runnin' round like a
freize Il believe that's what they call it
now-a-days), there was a sentence
printed out in red and yellow leaves. l
read it as l came out. s'He giveth his
beloved sleep'-that's what it was.
l thought Gentleman Jim ought to
get we'll there, if anywhere. But as the
doubts about it. He didn't know any
of US. Mr.. Sterile and Jack and L took
turns sittin' up nights. But he would
not take one drop of medicine or one
bit of food from anybody but Mrs.
Sterile. Lord how his eyes did follow
her. And all the time he hung on to
that bag for dear life.
Why didn't we examine it 7 Why be-
cause it was as plain as the nose on
your face that he didn't want us to.
Besides, we s'posed his money was in
it, and what did we want of thatP
But one day he seemed lower'n ever,
and when the doctor came and see that
he was sinkin' he looked real down in
the mouth. He'd got kind of interest
ed in the case, no doubt.
Cant you manage to get hold of
that bag 2" says he to the lady, speak
in low. "There must be somebody in
the world who knows the poor fellow.
We can't afford to wait any longer"
''I'll try" says she. And just then, as
sure as you live, he dropped asleep and
let go of the bag. She whipped out
pair of scissors and clipped that string
quicker'n lightnin'.
We went out in the other room. see
she was all of tremble.
"You open it," says the Doctor, kind
of quiet.
There was something thin and fat in
it, folded up in piece of tissue paper.
Nothing in this wide world but Just a
white card, with the dried stems of
rose and two geranium leaves fastened
on with drop of red sealin' wax The
leaves and the flowers were all crushed
to powder, bein' held in his poor, hot
hand so long.
Anything written on the card 7" the
doctor asked.
''Tbere has been," she said, her eyes
all wet and shiny and her lips in a
Quiver; but it's rubbed so can't make
it out. Judd, run over to the office and
get Mr.. Sterle's magnifying glass. Ask
him to bring it,"
She caught the glass as soon as he
came in and ran to the window. This
was all there was of it:
"Marie, June 10th, 1871" in wo-
mans handwriting. Wasn't that a
queer way to spell Mary, thought Be-
low it was written in a mans hand:
''June 10th, 1872. All withered but the
thorn"
Mrs. Sterile put the card back in the
little bag, with every grain O. dust from
the withered rose-leaves, and fastened
it round his neck again. And when l
looked at him the next minute, he had
hold of it, tight as ever.
1t went down into the grave with
him, Sir, and that's all we ever knew
about it.
But found out afterward that there
WANT sick man, nor a sufferin' wo-
man, nor a feeble child, within five
miles of there that couldn't ha' told
ME what became of Gentleman Jim's
wages.-Independent.