The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1886-12-17
A LAND-SLIP CURE.
An Electrifying Romance Of "the
Invalids' Corner"

ing to plunge into the lovely stretch OF
sea before them, is q tiny nook that
even in December is a regular sun
trap, and is known to every one in
Drayton as the Invalids' Corner.
1t is a sad little corner, for here
comes those who have but short time
to remain among the living. while theil
nerveless fingers clutch neryously al
the warm rugs that are wrapped round
their knees, and whose large eyes gaze
eve put to sea. Most of the invalids
have relatives who come and sit by
them, anxiously noticing each change
in the wind, or watching eagerly fol-
the first signs of the disappearance OF
the sun, when they will hurry away
their charges before the air has time to
chill in the very least. But, perhaps,
the hardest cases of all are the isolated
invalids, who somehow or other seem
left to die alone; poor old maids or
bachelors who cling to an empty exist
cnce in the strangest manner, doubt
less waiting for better days in the way
we all--rich and poor, sick and we'll
are apt to do. Fortunately, these cases
are few and far between, and are so
piteous that some one or other is gen.
orally ready to give their sympathy to
the solitary invalid; and often the In
valids' Corner is the scene of romances
that sometimes end in happier man
ner than one might expect from their
sad surroundings
But Francis Priestly- returned inva-
lid from India, and condemned, as he
termed it, to six months solitary con-
tinement on his back in warmer spot
than London-cared for nothing save
his own discomfort. At first he had
rcbelled openly against his doctor S
fiat, and said he would rather die than
go to Drayton. But on Dr. Parkyns
saving that in that case he must get an
other medical man to attend him, for
he would not, he gave in, and con-
sented to try the proposed remedy. 1t
would, DR.. Parkyns assured him, if he
could only learn patience and quiet
waiting, end in making him quite we'll
But patience was notknown to Francis
Priestly. All through lite he had suf-
fered from his own precipltancy-he
had invariably been in hurry.
Long ago he had been engaged to
the pretty daughter of the rector of the
parish where his fathers park was sit
uated. But she could not leave her
father until her next sister was ready
to take her place at the head of the
big, motherless households; and Fran
els, accusing her of not loving him,
had dashed away to join his regiment,
leaving Edith broken-hearted He had
married, on board ship, the pretty,
silly, childish wife that had made him
miserable for six years, and had finally
eloped, leaving with him four babies,
and ruined life But she died of
fever only month after, and he had
sent the children home to his wife 8
parents, and now was quite alone in
the world.
He had never felt this before he was
i'll; he had always more friends than he
could count; and, what with one thing
and another, time had never hung
heavily on his hands. But now it was
really terrible, And, perhaps, the
worst part OF his illness was the way in
which all the past eight years seemed
to pass in procession before him, re-
peating, as they filed before his wax
ing or sleeping vision: "You have
brought it all on yourself, you know.
If you had only waited for the gifts we
had for you, you would have been
happy, prosperous and well; but YOU
took torcihly what was never meant
for you, and now you see the conse-
quences.
He had not a sister, and his father
and mother were both dead. The
family place was his brothers now;
and his sister-in-law, always regarding
her husbands younger brothers as so
many harpies, anxious to fall upon
any stray crumbs that fell from her
table, was not likely to welcome an in
valid, who might want months and
months of nursing, possibly only to die
In the end. A good servant did all he
could for Major Priestly; but a servant
is not much when that is all one has to
rely upon for sympathy, conversation
and any thing else that is wanted 10
while away the long, weary days and
nights of illness, 1t was now Decem-
Der. AT Drayton, where the eve rests
contentedly on miles of blue-green fir
trees, whose only difference in winter
is an added shade of dusk in the dis
lance, there was nothing to remind
any one that Christmas was not more
than q fortnight Off Yet so it was,
and Major Priestly felt more melan-
choly than ever, and looked back re-
gretully to past Christmases at the
manor-Christmase when he and
Edith had been all and all to each
other; they had spent their time in
decorating the church, hanging Christ
mas trees with ornament for the Sun
day-school children, and in keeping
peace between all those who came
forward to help them.
As Major Priestly remembered the
date-lying in his long chair facing the
sea, that literally cleaned like tur-
quiose under cloudless sky, with the
Isle of Wight rising like snowy cloud
just on the left of the horizon, and the
chimes gtttering redly in the sunshine
the view seemed to fade, and he saw
instead Priestly church and the heaps
of prickly egergreens, and could smell
the various mingled odor of damp,
crushed leaves and holly berries that
was always connected in his mind with
Christmas. Could he not we'll recol-
leet, too, how he and Edith had spent
hours on their knees, sticking gorgeous
red and blue and gold letters on
squares of cardboard, that, when COM
pleted, should form a text to 90 round
the ugly, dark-brown galleries? He
smiled to himself as he remembered
how the letters would curl up in a
sticky festoon on the ends of his fin
gers; how crooked they got, and how,
finally, when it was really done and
duly arranged in heaps in the aisle
ready for erection, the old clerk took
advantage of their temporary absence
at luncheon to prepare surprise for
them; had put up the text just as the
letters came, anyhow. and by the time
they had returned had completed sem
fences that would have defied the clev-
crest hand at solving ''buried sem
tences' that ever won q prize in any
society journal of the present day.
Perhaps the thought of the old DAYS