The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1890-08-14
me doctor was LARGE ana muscular

| Need one ask whittier his steps first
| took him? Naturally to the feet of his
| lady-love. She was young enough to
| look all the sweeter in the bright light
| of day. and her pretty morning-dress
became her. She had expected the
| offer, and accepted it without affecta-
ton, and the young doctor made all
sorts of charming speeches and was
| permitted more than one kiss.
| At last, however, he was obliged to
| saw adieu, and as he ran down the
| steps he said to himself that he was the
| happiest fellow alive. Already out OF
fear of poverty. engaged to the only
| girl he ever loved, healthy, and with
| clear conscience, what young pro-
| fessional man wa sever in better case?
| As he passed the spot where he
had seen he boys stoning the un-
| fortunate man, the picture arose once
| more before him. What contrast in
| their positions, he thought to himself!
| Well, he had worked for his, and no
| doubt that poor fellow had worked as
| hard in another way to bring upon
| himself the fate that had befallen him.
Still it was pitiful.
| Parents who did their best by me,
a happy home, more kindness than |
deserve have been mine" he said.
] childhood was? l hope he will come
to me tomorrow. am glad | helped
him a little"
He was yet to be still gladuer. How
little we know what threads of good or
ill we braid into our lives by what seem
our most unimportant actions.
From house 10 house the doctor went.
Anxious mothers kept him long in
talk. There were those who felt that
their well-being depended on telling
the doctor all about ''gueer sensation"
and that worried feeling" and bank
ing hours were long over when he
emerged from the residence of the last
patient upon his list. and, indeed, it
was growing quite dark. and like all
healthy men. the doctor was growing
hungry, and his dinner awaited him.
He stepped forward briskly, but had
only gone few steps when an old
woman approached him, wringing her
| hands and sobbing:
You're Doctor Chester. aren't you
sir?" she cried. ''Och. doctor darlin.
| you're wanted immediate-it's my old
/ man is taken bad. down in our shanty
I by the railroad. He fell upon the floor,
| he did, and it's sinsliss he's lyin.' I've
the money. Come, doctor, come along:
a minute may name life. It's near -
| Street."
Then why didn't you go to Doctor
O'Shane, his office is close by you,"
| says the doctor.
| Il did; but he was away" said the
old woman. An sure, but that /
| knowed your face, and you the kindest
doctor anywhere, I'd not have stopped
you. I've the money to pay"
| But it was not the fee the doctor was
thinking about He felt curious re.
luctance to do what the woman asked.
Naturally enough, he commented in
wardly, nature demands rest and re-
| freshment. Still the case was one that
called for immediate action, and in
! moment more he said:
| "Go on, I'll come with you," and
| followed her westward.
1t was lonely walk across unlight.
ed streets and down some wooden steps
to the rails of the Hudson River Road.
Not soul was in sight, but light
cleaned from the windows of di-
lapidated shanty by the roadside, and
the woman hobbled in that direction.
She entered the door; he followed her.
A man was lying upon the floor The
doctor knelt beside him. As he did so
some one from behind pinioned his
arms. The supposed patient sprung
up and selZed him about the waist, and
in an instant, strong though he was,
he lay bound and helpless on the floor.
Four stout ruffians stood before him.
One ritled his pockets while another
crammed handkerchief into his
mouth. Before his eyes they examined
his watch and counted the money in his
pocket-book.
ITS good haul one of the men
said. Come, we must lose no time.
No one will find that fellow before to-
morrow, still we might as well get
away"
But shoot him before we go-dead
men tell no tales" said the man who
had played the part of invalid.
Throw him on the track" said the
third of the group. THE railroad
folks will help us keep our secret"
The fourth said nothing. but. stoop-
ing, lifted the doctor by the shoulders,
and the others followed his example.
In vain Doctor Chester strove to
| uiCdh Ills JULIUS VI W ultct prayer
for mercy. They dragged him toward
the track and flung him across it. Not
content with this, they bound him by
other cords to the rails. and left him
fettered to his fate: and thus the hap
piest day of his life had ended.
Full of youth and hope, with every
reason for living. he must die, and such
horrible death! He strove to meet
his fate like man. but the thought of
his betrothed wife was too much for
him. He managed by degrees to
thrust the handkerchief from his
mouth with his tongue. but as he did
SO he felt the rails tremble beneath
him-the engine was approaching! 1t
was far away yet; but what hope was
there that he would be heard before it
was upon him? Again he shouted
again, still again as he saw the red
glare from the headlight of the ap
preaching engine shine out through
darkness.
His case seemed hopeless. but he
spent all his strength in one wild cry
of:
Help! On the rails here! Tied to the
rails! help! helpr'
.Courage! Here we are!" shouted
voice near by. Courage! courage"
Someone knelt beside him. someone
gasped: "Don't despair. I've got a
knife with me-"
One of the cords was cut-another-
he was freed from the rails and, clasped
in the arms of his preserver, rolled
| n II. "a hn