The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1885-05-26


freeing himself were useless. He placed
the candle on the ground and contem-
plated the small, Pickering flame. Sud-
denly he blew out the candle in a
feverish haste. His life depended on
the candle.
He had read in an account of ship
wreck how a person had lived several
DAYS on a few pieces of wax.
By the light of match he looked at
his watch. Ii was stOpping-the haad
pointed TO eleven. Was it eleven a. m,
or had he forgotten to wind his watch
the evening fore? He knew that the
mourners had left the cemetery at ten
o clock a. IN, but how many hours his
swoon had lasted he could not tell.
Notwithstanding his sangupe tenn.
permanent he could not shake of GER
tain fear. He did not doubt that he
would be missed and that his disap-
pearance under such circumstances
would fill his friends with terror, but
how could it occur TO them that he was
in the churchyard of Montmartre?
What would it help him even if the
Project of Police had sent a hundred
detectives on his trail? Of what use
would il be to fish the Seine or make
Investigations in the morgue, while he
himself was in the family vault of Mr..
Dorine? On the other hand the fact
that he had been seen here last would
undoubtedly be an important consider
alton to an experienced detective. The
sexton might, perhaps. return in order
to get the candle. which might acct
dentaliy have been forgotten. Anu
might not Mr.. DORM himself send some
fresh flowers the next day? What
various hopes! And still how long
would he live in such a place?
With his pocket-knife Wentworth cut
the candle into four equal parts. "This
evening"" he said. Il will eat one
piece-to-morrow morning the second
evening the third-the
next day the fourth-and then-then
help must come"
That morning he had taken nothing
but cup of coffee and the pangs of
hunger now began to aSSail him. Still
he postponed his meal as long as pos
sible. and only when midnight was
passed, according TO his calculation, he
ate the first piece of wax. Although it
was inSipid it fulfilled its end. He now
became sensible of another evil. The
dampness of the walls aud the wind
which penetrated through the air holes
in the roof caIsed all his limbs to be-
come stiff, so that there was nothing
left for him but constantly to walk up
and down. The fatigue which soon
overcame him had TO be conquered by
all the force of his will. for here sleep
and death were one and the same, and
be had made up his mind TO live.
Wonderful pictures of long ago
crossed his mind as his heavy step re-
on the stone floor; familiar
forms of his childhood DAYS doomed up
before him; the JOYS and Inc sufferings
of the past year. his love and his loss,
passed in review before his troubled
Sleep was banished
from his eyes. and the pangs of hunger
again made themselves felt. Accord
ing to his calculation it was now MORN
ing. Perhaps the sun was just rising
behind the towers and cupolas; per-
haps a heavy rain was enveloping
Paris in a thick mist. Paris, ha! what
q dream!
By degrees Philip saw that the damp
ness was becoming master of him. he
sank in a half-senseless condition to
the ground. Accidentally his hand
n piece of wax-he grasped it
and swallowed it. How
curious, thought he, that l am not
thirsty!
Meanwhile the minutes gl:ded By
like hours. There was but one piece
of candle left. Philip had eaten the
third piece, not to satisfy his hunger,
but to anticipate it. He had swallowed
it as though it were disgusting medi-
cine. on the effects of which life de-
pended. The moment was approach
ing nearer and nearer when the last
piece would be gone, but in order to
protract this moment, he resolved to
fast this time. He still held the last
piece of wax in his hand; finally in
wild despair he pressed it to his lips,
then suddenly cast it far from him-for
the door was opened, and he saw the
form of Mr.. Dorine sharply outlined
against the blue horizon.
When Mr.. Dorine led the young man
into the open air, he saw that his hair,
which had been raven black, was now
gay and his eye was dim.
"And how long was Wentworth
really in the vault?" 1 asked Mr.. H..
when he had finished his story.
Exactly one hour and twenty min
utesr said he, with smile.-Michdel
S. Haas, an Detroit Free Press.