The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-04-04
UNDER THE RINGS

pitaL The day was one of those which some to New York in February, begin aing with clouds and snow, and ending m driz,le of rain and mud unfathom. able days which by themselves are enough to drive one to suicide and the meteorological gloom ot this particular day had been intensified for me, by the death of the beautiful young creature of whom spoke. was younger man then, and though had grown pretty well used to the horrors of a great hospital like Bellevue, and could look unmoved upon things which would once have driven ms wild with plying desire to aid suferings which no human hand could aid, was yet liable to a fit of horrors whea any new form of agony came under my immediate notice.
 This beautiful young woman had taken a cab in Fourteenth street, and given orders to drive to Bellvue. When she reached the hospital, the hand of Death was already on her, She gave no name The driver could give no information There was not mark about her clothing not line of writing, not a jewel or trinket; the outside garments she wore were perfectly new, evidently bought for the occasion. Money she had in abun dance. In reply to all questions she simply said, "I have nothing to reveal Death pays for everything wish no one else to suffer for anything that has ever happened to me-" So she died. within few hours after her admission, and the grave put a final seal on lips which did not need the silence of the tomb to keep the secrets of her heart.
 As have said, she was beautiful, both in face and figure. He hands were ex- quisite, and had never known toil. Her language was fauItlessly perfect Even m her agonizlng pain the intonation and delicate shades of vocalizing were such as none save those descended from a line ot highly educated ancestry can ever hope to attain. Her courage and fortitude and selt-possession belonged to the age of chivalry, and in her death it seemed to me one of the noblest of Gods master pieces had been plotted from existence.
 Thoroughly ill at ease with myself and all the world, walked into Wardlaws rooms when my hours were over. and lighting the cigar he proffered, threw myself into an easy chair in an attitude which clearly evidenced the gle sm hang ing like pail on my sympathies. Ward Jaw was much older man than myself surgeon. l always thought he had been tender hearted in his youth; but if this vas so he had long since put aside all compassion as bar to his professional success and hlndrance to his power of alleviating misery.
 Well, oaby," said Wardlaw, with his usual satirical smile elevating the tips of hls giizzied mustachios, "what particular woe has life held for you to day? see you are in tears over somebody else's misfortune, as usual"
 "Qllte as usual, Wardlaw," l an- swered, "or rather, quite nnusually SO, even for me. You can laugh if you enoose, but this was case think even you can find pity for" And 1 told him the brief story of the beautiful unfortunate. Wardlaw heard me through patiently, though the gray tips of the mustachios did not descend. Peritonitis ?" he asked.
 "Yes," said |.
 So this one death, after a few hours suffering, of a woman who had known but one sorrow, and that one the direct consequence of her own error, is enough to turn the whole world topsy-turvey for you, is it9"
 "Why are you sure it was conse quence of her own error? Might she no. have been a viclim2 Might not all her thoughts and intentions have been per fectly pure and noble2"
 Can you picture possible preface to the death you describe-l admit it was pitiful enough-which does not involve at some point choice on the part of this unhappy girl between what she kne was safe and prudent, and what she knew was unsafe, and imprudentp She took the chances, and the game went against her. She was p lucky and beautiful. It is pity she died, for courage and beauty are valuable things to transmit to posterity but after all she only paid the penalty of her own conscious wrong-doing." And Wardlaw freshened the coal at the end of his cigar, with a vivid consciousness mat he had made me out a sentimental youngster.
 "H she sinned," said l, "another sinned her sin was against herself. and she paid with her life; the sin ot the other was against an innocent creature. and can never be atoned in this life. Had you seen her, and seen her die, as I did, Wardlaw, you might have been, as am, inclined to wish her fate had been happier. But you never take the woman's side," said !, after short pause devoted to our cigars. "How is it, Wardlaw do you think woman the most heroic and ia,ehiai of living beings, or tho one utterly ialse and deceptive thing of animated ex- istence p
 = l think you came near falling in love with dying woman to-day,n said Ward law with . short laugh and perhaps can best answer your question as to wo- mans faith by giving you the history of n .mputation which once performed tnding case, merely the removal ot the ie1f hand above the wrist--but perhaps yoa will find it interesting" smoked in silence, and the old surgeon began bis stogy.
 Some vears since,s said Wardlaw. before the day of Pullman and his pal. sces, swas one of the passengers on a Saratoga train. There vas no spsrlor