Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1890-07-17

speeches and was permitted more thai
one kiss.
At last, however, he was obliged t,
say adieu, and as he ran down the step
he said TO himself that he was the hap
piest fellow alive. Already out of fea
of poverty, engaged to the only girl h,
ever loved, healthy, and with a elea
conscience, what young professional
man was ever in better ease? AS hi
passed the spot where he had that morn
ing seen the boys stoning the unfortu
nate man, the picture arose once more
before him. What contrast in theil
positions, he thought to himself Well
he had worked for his, and no doubt thai
poor fellow had worked as hard in an.
other way to bring upon himself the
fate that befallen him. Still it was pit
| iful.
parents who did their best by me, a
happy home, more kindness than de.
serve have been mine," he said. "What
do i know what the mans childhood
was? L hope he will come to me to-
morrow. lam glad helped him lit
| tle."
He was yet to be still gladder. How
little we know what threads of good or
i'll we braid into our lives by what seem
our most unimpOrtant actions.
From house to house the doctor went.
Anxious mothers kept him on in talk
There were those who felt that their
well being depended on telling the doc
tor all about that "queer sensation" and
that "worried feeling" and banking
hours were long over when he emerged
from the residence of the last patient
upon his list, and, indeed, it was grow
ing 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 wom-
an approached him, wringing her hands
and sobbing:
"You're DIR. 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 by the
railroad. He fell upon the floor, he did,
and it's sinsless he's lynn. I've the
money. Come, doctor, come along;
minute may name life. It's near -
street."
"Then why didn't you go to DR.. o.
Shane? His office is close by you," said
the doctor.
81 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 old woman ask
ed. Naturally enough, he commented
inwardly, nature demands rest and re-
freshment. Still the case was one that
called for immediate action, and in
moment more he said:
$50 on, I'll come with you," and fol-
lowed her westward.
1t was lonely walk across unlighted
streets and down some wooden steps to
a soul was in sight, but light cleaned
from the windows of dilapidated shan
ty by the road side, and the woman hob
bIed 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 seized him about the waist, and in
an instant, strong though he was, he lay
bound and helpless upon the floor. Four
stout ruffians stood before him. One
rifled his pockets while another cram
med handkerchief into his mouth
Before his eyes they examined his watch
and counted the money in his pocket
book.
sits a 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 STOPPING,
lifted the doctor by the shoulders, and
In vain DR.. Chester strove to break his |
bonds or to utter prayer for mercy. |
They dragged him toward the track and |
flung him across. Not content with this,
they bound him by other cords to the |
rails, and left him thus fettered to his |
fate; and thus the happiest day of his
life had ended.
Full of youth and hope, with every |
reason for living, he must die, and such |
a horrible DEATH He strove to meet |
MS fate like man, but the thought of |
MS betrothed wife was too much for him.
He managed by degrees to thrust the
from his mouth with his
tongue, but as he did so he felt the rails |
iremble beneath him-the engine was
1t was far away yet; but
what hope was there that he would be
heard before it was upon him? Again
ne shouted-again, still again-as he
saw the red glare from the head light of
he approaching engine shine out thro'
he darkneSsl
His case seemed hopeless, but he
'pent all his strength in one wild cry
If
"Help! On the rails hereI Tied to
he rails Help! helpp'
"Couragel Here we arep shouted a
voice near by. "Couragel eouragep
Some one knelt beside him, some one
yasped: "Don't despair, I've got knife
with me-"
One of the cords was another
ne was freed from the rails and clasped |
n the arms of his preserver, rolled over
nto the little gully beside the track,
safe out of harms way, just as the ex-
press flew by at full speed. And now
here were others to help. Stout police
men with clubs and pistols who helped
he first arrival to free the doctor from
Ill his bonds, and by the light of their
anterns he looked into the face of his
and saw the man to whom he
lad acted the good Samaritan that
"What does this mean?" he asked
How does it come that l owe my life
% your"
"You owe it to your own kindness,
loctor," said the man. can hour ago i