The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1885-03-25
With this pleasant prospect, DR.. Trif.
uigas sought his bed and went to sleep
as soundly as ever

uiBts eOuBhJ MS Deu ana Wenb 10 sleep
as soundly as ever.
Rap, rap, rapl
Three blows from the knocker, struck
with firm hand, have this time added
their rattle TO the noise of the storm. The
doctor startled from his sleep, got up ia
q towering passion. On opening his.
window the hurricane came in like
whirlwind.
otis for the cracknel maker"
"What. again that wretchGn
VI am his mother"
"May his mother, wife and daughter,
all die with himw
"'Tis a fit"
cay and a tight one, no doubt, "
chuckled the doctor.
1--WE have little money! said the old
woman, IAN installment on the old
house sold to Dantrup, the drayman of
Messagliere street. If you don't come,
my granddaughter will be without
father, my daughter without husband,
and myself without a son"
1t was heart rending and horrible to
hear the old hag's voice, and to think
that the wind froze the blood in her
veins and drcnched the very bones under
her skin.
"A fit, say youl The fee is two hun
dred fretzers, rejoined the heartless
leech
We have butIone hundred and twenty.
Goodnight, thenp And once more
the windows were closed.
On second thoughts, however, he came
to the conclusion that, for an hours trot
and half an hours attendance, one hun
dred and twenty fretzers made sixty
fretzers an hour-one fretzer minute
1t was small profit at best, but not quite
TO be despised
So, instead of getting into bed, the
doctor slipped himself into his velvet
suit, hurried down stairs in pair of
thick proof boots, muflled himself
up in large overcoat, put on his gloves
and sou'wcster, and, leaving the lamp
lighted on the table near his Codex
opened at page 1877. pushed open the
door of the Six-Four. and appeared on
the threshold.
The old crone was there, leaning on
stick, her frame emaciated by eighty
years of misery.
"The money" said he.
"IIere; and may God return it hun.
dred fold!"
''God9 the money of Code Has any
one seen its color2n
The doctor whistled Hurzof, put a
small lantern in the dogs mouth, and
bent his steps toward the sea, The old
hag trudged on behind.
Good heavens, what weather. The
bells of Saint Philhlene sway to and fro
under the headlong fury of the storm, an
ominous portent, as we know. But DR..
Trifulgas eschews all superstitious no
tions. The fact is, he believes in moth
ing at all, not even his own science-ex-
cept for what it brings him in. What
weather, to be sure, and what road
Nothing but shingle and slag--the shin
gle slippery like seaweed, and the Stag
crisp as clinker. And no other light to
see by than tremulous flicker from
Hurzofs lantern. At times strange, fan
tastic figures seem to toss in the flames
that swell from the mouth of the Van
glor. There is really no telling what
lies at the bottom of those inscrutable
craters. Perhaps the souls of the under
world, that YolatiliZc on reaching our at
mosphere.
The doctor and the old hag follow the
line of coast that runs in and out of the
small bays along the shore. The sea is
of a livid whiteness and sparkles as its
pillows hurtle the phosphorescent fringe
OF surf that seems to pour wave on wave
of glow-wOrms upon the beach.
Thus both rush on till they reach
bend III the road between two swelling
downs, where broom and seq rushes clash
their blades together like SO many bayo
nets.
The dog has drawn nearer to his mas
ter, and seems to say;
swell, what think you2 A hundred
and twenty fretzers to place under lock
and key in the safel That's the way to
build up fortune 'Tis another piece
of ground added to the vine enclosure
Another dish added to the evening meal
Another bowl of food for faithful Hur-
zof! Nothing like attending rick pa
tients and loosening their purse-strings !"
AT this point the old woman stopped.
She directed finger, which shook like
age, toward red light some way of in
the gloOm-the house of Wort Kartif,
the cracknel-maker.
"There" laconically put in the doctor.
"Yes, " responded the crone.
Just then the Vanglor, vibrating to its
foundations with noise like thunder,
threw up a mass of fuliginous flame,
that mounted to the zenith and rent the
clouds Doctor Trifulgas was thrown
to the ground by the force OF the con
cussion. Regaining his footing, he
looked around. The beldam was gone.
She must have fallen through some deep
crevasse in the ground, or taken fight
on the floating fog-clouds of ocean.
The dog, however was still there, up
right on his launches, his mouth wide
open, and the light of the lantern blown
out.
"Never mind; let's go on, +" mumbled
Doctor Trifulgas. The honest man had
pocketed the one hundred and twenty
fretzers, and must needs earn them.