Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1891-10-10

| give the younger men n CnanCe! now could
those trembling old fingers feel q pulse or
| write prescription intelligibly?
Here they all we're, young and old, growing
| more convivial and hilarious every minute.
Why should they not? Every one Of them knew
where the money was to come from to pay the
next months bills, nay, their next years, and
| every years to come for . time indefinite.
| But as for himself, Lee Ray, il his article lust
| sent to the new Medical Review should not be &C
cepted and promptly paid for, how should he
face his creditors? Certainly they were gentle
and most considerate. May. his landlady, and
! Aunt Becky, his laundress. But that did not
| make the prospect of non-payment the less bit
ter He knew his own ability. He knew that
that ability would be recognized, how secure
his future success would become. But the
medical profession was so overcrowded every
where. Competition ran so high. In his own
adopted town as elsewhere. II only those two
| old doctors would retire, or-he hesitated to
add even IN his thoughts-die. Or. if O'Hal-
loran would go back to his father and keep his
books or dispense his liquors; or If Schneider
| would enigrate to Colorado and buy . cattle
| rancho. N-oh. if
Meantime 1.-The fun grew fast and furious
1t was past midnight when the meeting broke
up and Lee Ray. all unconsciousy. went forth
to meet the most awful moment Of his life
The party from Upperville was the last to
leave 1t took some little time to get the stage
coach they had chartered for their journey to
be brought around to the door. So old Dr.
| Graystone proposed to treat his party with .
hot Scotch to warm them up for the cold
drive OF thirteen miles to Upperville. And Lee
hay took his share and repeated doing so to
the last day of his life
The whole party lit fresh cigars and set out
| through the dark hours OF that bleak morning
to return to Upperville.
That night! Could Lee Ray ever forget it
while he should live in this lower world? Should
he be permitted 20 forget it in the upper world?
| Meanwhile he drifted on to his unknown doom
| There were six passengers inside that coach
the doctors from Upperville. They were tired
and sleepy now. and, wrapped up in their over
| coats and muffiers, with hats pulled down over
their ears, were lying back in their seats smok-
| ing while all the leather curtains were drawn
down TO keep out the cold air.
| soon the sitting air grew SO intolerable to
young Ray that he asked leave to stop the coach
| that ne might get out and ride beside the driver.
| Permission given with drowsy warnings
| against pneumonia, influenza, &c, poor Ray
thinking as he mounted his airy seat that he
cared not now soon the one or the other should
! carry him Off.
! The clustering wind had gone down or only
| rose in occasional puffs from the northeast.
| The horses travelled slowly. They were tired.
| for this was beyond their usual working hours.
| The driver was nodding. 1t WAS past his bed
/ time. Luckily the road was good, though the
| night was dark. and the horses good old stagers,
| would as soon have dreamed of flying as bolt
| ing. The coach crept along like q creature OF
| infinite leisure. Time passed slowly. All was
so dark that there WAS nothing to be seen but
| sterile fields and spectral forests, stretching
! away to the dusky horizon.
The great clock from some unseen factory
| struck 4. BY that proximity to the factory
| Ray knew that they had gone over half the
| thirteen miles between North Hills and Upper
| VILE. All was silent within the coach. but for
\ an occasional snore from some one OF the
| party sleeping heavily under the influence of
| fatigue and hot Scotch, OF all the set the
young doctor was the only waking one. That
| which had overcome the others had excited
| him, disordered his brain, stirred up all his
latent evil passions and filled him with bitterest
| envy-envy. He envied every one OF his more
| fortunate companions in the coach. They
could all pay their debts and enjoy all the COM
forts and Injuries of life. He even envied the
| driver beside him. He was sure of his wages,
his board and his lodging. He could even have
envied the horses They were sure of their
stalls and their fodder But what was he. Lee
Ray. sure OF! Nothing. indeed, but hopeless
indebtedness and endless anxiety.
| While the poor fellow was maddening him
self with these bitter thoughts the slow coach
was creeping toward the railway crossing. And
| all within and upon the coach were asleep but
| Ray. He laid his hands upon the reins but the
| sleeping driver started, seized them tightly,
| dropped of to sleep again. And the horses
| crept straight on. Close and closer went the
coach toward the fatal track. What was that?
| the low, distant hum and BURR, and soon near
| and nearer roar and thunder of the rushing
| train The first instinct Of the young doctor
| was to seize the reins and tnrn the horses
heads out of danger. But in an instant came a
temptation. swift fierce and oyerpowering-as
sudden as the descent Of the tabled Apollyon-
| to leap down from his seat throw himself
before the train and so solve the problem, or end
| the pain of life. But, quick as a fash, more
| internal inspiration seized him and forced him
to spring of clear Of the road and leave the
doomed coach with it's living freight to 20 to
| destruction!
| He struck the ground just. it seemed, as the
| rushing train struck the coach and hurled il
| up into the dark sky to fall in broken fragments
| with the mutilated bodies to the ground, All,
| heaven, the wild cries Of terror, anguish and
| despair! The groans Of mortal agony The
distracting, maddening confusion, An inst
| ant impulse, an instapt's act had brought this
| awful choas of destruction, The man lay
| cazed with horror, staring at his crime!
| The train had stopped Amid the shrieks
| and groans and walls a crowd gathered anu
| grew. Where did all the multitude come from?
| Every house and hovel seemed to have given
| up its inmates the graves will give up their
/ dead at the last day. A multitude Of excited
people appeared too distracted to suggest the
| best thing 10 be done.
| And he : the miserable man living prone upon
\ the roadside. stunned by the suddenness of mis-
| awful fall into guilt and hell, all heard all
| as through a hldeous nightmare. He saw dead
| bodies drawn out from the wreck and placed
| on planks shutters hastily brought by the
| country people. He heard the sharp cries of
| agony from some who were still living and
then he heard loud authoritative voice raised
| to inquire:
| 'Is there doctor present? If So for God 8
| sake let him come here,
Ray knew that there could be no living
| and unhurt doctor on the spot or that
\ doctor would have been the first to rush
to the rescue. Il by any forlorn hope anv
| victim might be eased of pain or saved
| from heath. Ray was a doctor, but he could
| not help. nor move, nor even cry out. He Law
| there motionless until some one in the crowd
| stumbled against him. then stopped over him.
| and with an exclamation of pity inquired Are
| You hurt much? Where are you hurt? Can Won
| answer And with these last words the speaker
knelt down and began to feel his pulse, re-
/ peating his question.
he was in his perdition of guilt. Oh, for the
/ innocence OF one hour ago, The most groyel-
| ing poverty, the most miserable illness the
| uttermost destitution with innocence would
| have been heaven to this
| Help. here, some of your' said the man
who was kneelng beside him; here is another
| one done for. am afraidr'
Help came and Ray felt himself lifted and
laid upon a shutter. As he Was borne along he
saw a row Of six mangled corpses laid on planks
| and guarded by two men with torches in their
Il hands. And then he tainted.
| How he was taken back from the scene of the
I catastrophe to his own lodgings he never re.