The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1885-03-25

piA-fOur, at IuktrOp; tnere is the same
/ arrangement in the front windows, and
the little vaulted door at the side Doc.
4 tot Trifulgas strides on as fast as the
/ driving gusts Of wind and rain will per
NIT. He reaches the door, which is ajar,
/ pushes 1t open, enters, and the blast
closes it behind him with a bang. The
dog outside howls, or is silent, by turns.
How very strangel One might almost
be led to suppose that DR.. T'rifulgas had
come back to his own house. But this
cannot be. He took no wrong turning
on the road, nor did he lose his way.
No, he is certainly at Yal-Karniou, and
not at Luktrop. Yet how comes it his
eye dwells on the same low, vaulted
corridor, the same winding staircase and
the same massive wooden railing, hand
worn like his own2 He ascends
and stops on the landing. A
faint light comes from under the door
as at tho Six-Four.
Is it a snare or a delusionl By the
weak glimmer of the lamp he vaguely
recognizes his own room--there the vel
low sofai there, on the right, the old
oaken chest; and there, on the left, the
iron-girt safe, in which he had thought
of placing his one hundred and twenty
fretzers. Yonder is his armchair with
its leather tassels, his table with its con.
voluted legs, and upon it, by the flicker
ing lamp, his own Codex, open at page
| 1O7.
''What ails me9' murmurs the doctor.
What ails thee9 Why, thou art palsied
with fright. Thy eyeballs start from
their sockets. Thy body contracts and
dwindes in size. An icy sweat chills
thy skin, on which nameless horrors
seem to creep
Quick, or the lamp, for want C oil,
/ will go cut, and the sick man die. Ay,
the bed is there-his own with its pill.
lows and baldachin-a bed as long as it
is broad, and the closed curtains with
their large inwrought flowers. Can this
indeed be the bed of a poor cracknel-
makers Trembling, the doctor draws
near, pulls the curtains aside, and peers
within.
There, outstretched on his dying bed,
! lies the sick man, with his head outside
| the countcrpane and motionless, like one
about to breathe his last The doctor
bends forwar ID
All! what ghastly scream is that
which rends the air, and is taken up by
the dog outside with his sinister howl
ing2 1t is not Wort Kartif, the crack
nel-maker, who is the dying man, but
he, the doctor, DR.. Trifulgas himself -
he who is smitten down with brain
fever-he, and no other. Full well he
knows the symptoms. 1t is cerebral
apoplexy, with sudden accumulation of
serosity in the cavities of the brain, and
/ partial paralysis of the body on the side
opposite that where the lesion exists
| Ay, it was for him assistance was be-
sought, that one hundred, that one hun
dred and twenty fretzers were paid He
who, in the hardness of his heart, had
refused to attend the poor cracknel-
maker II is he now that is dying.
! DR.. Trifulgas raved like a maniac.
! The symptoms increased every minute.
Not only were all the functions of rela-
tion dead in him, but the beatings of his
heart were nearly gone, like the breath
of his lungs. Yet he had not lost all
consciousness of his desperate strait
What shall he dol Diminish the
mass of the blood by bleeding
There must be no hesitation, or DR..
Trifulgas is dead man. Phle-
botomy was still practiced in Volsinia,
and there, as here, the doctors rescued
from apoplexy all those who were not to
die from its effects.
DIR. Trifulgas seized his case of instru-
ments, took his lancet, and punctured
veins on his duplicate self. No blood,
however, spurted from the wound. He
rubbed with all his might the chest of
the dying one but he found that the pull
sations of his own heart diminished; he
burnt the others feet with hot bricks,
but felt his own feet growing cold
Suddenly his duplicate starts up in his
bed, struggles wildly in the last throes
of suspended breathing, rattle is heard
in his throat, and DR.. Trifulgas, with all
his science, falls back dead in his own
arms.
/ The following morning a corpse was
found in the house known as the Six
| Four-that of DR.. Trifulgas. He was
placed in a coffin and conveyed, in great
/ pomp, to the cemetery of Luktrop, after
/ the manner Of the many he had already
sent there.
AS for old Hurzof, / am told the faith
/ full beast may still be seen, with his Ian
tern relighted, securing the heath and
/ howling for his lost master. If this be
true or not, cannot say. Yet so many
strange things do occur in this Volsinian
country, especially round about Luktrop
/ that see no reason to doubt the state
ment. At any rate, let me ask of you
once more not to look for this town of
Luktrop on the map. The best geo
graphers are still uncertain as to its exact
position in latitude-and even longitude.
Paris Figaro, translated JOr The Argo-
naut.
Fond of Ornaments.