Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1892-07-16

lowing story:
A few years ago l left the care of my
patients in the hands of a brother ply
stefan and went down to my old home
in the western part of New York to settle
up the remainder of the bushes con
nected with my fathers estate. 1t proved
much more troublesome than | expected
and detained me in the old place for sey.
eral weeks. During this time l was a
guest at a farm house at the edge of the
village where an old friend of the family
resided.
According to the good custom o. the
PEOPLE in that section of the country all
the attaches of the farm were counted as
members of TIE household and dinei
together at the same large table. 1t was
early harvest time and the family was in
creased by a number of temporary farm
help who were hired for the busy part of
the season. Among these was Il young
fellow Of about twenty, OF fair com
p%lexion, broad intelligent brow, but of a
cast of countenanoc expressive of deep
melancholy.
The men were of a jovial set aud filed
in the bits OF leisure at meal time aud
after the days work was over in recount.
ing their numerous experiences. This
man, however, never SCARED in their
hilarity, but sat silently apart in a dark
portion of the room until time for retir-
ing. l inquired who he was and was
told that his name was Dave, they had
never learned his surname; in fact, they
had never asked about it.
Dave had come early in May and had
engaged for the season. He was an ex-
cellent worker, they testified, but very
reticent, never speaking except in an
swtr to a question or when it was en-
absolute necessity to ask one. He was
kind to the animals, clever III taking
hold Of any new kind of work, aud very
industrious, often performing more than
i've good men. They did not uu1er-
stand him, but hoped that he could be
hired for another season.
I lecame deeply interested in this
Dave, and resolved TO make a study Ct
bis character, and if possible, win MIN
over to a more cheerful view of life. |
began to address him whenever We met
OF various topics concerning his work,
but, although I received courteous au-
swers. was wholly unao'e to get him into
conversation. He seemed to be brood
ing over some painful idea that refused
him a moments respite.
] noticed the FESTIVE, nervous energy
with which he worked, a. If onlv the
most laborious effort could keep down
an inward demonstration of thought i. He
continuously wore a look of depression,
aud sometimes in the dim light of the
corner where he sat alter the days work
was dcue, l fancied | perceived tears in
his eyes aud a looI of agony on his face,
but he said nothing. l began to think
that he was ore Of those cnig natic
beings upon whose spirit some hidden
disease had shed an eternal melancholy.
and that perhaps there was no concrete
cause for his Tcticcrce and gloom.
One day the sun arose warmer than
usual, and by noon the air hld become
so charged with heat and moisture as to
render physical cxcrtior almost impossi-
bic. After dinner the men lay down in
the Shade Of the cool naples, and de
cIared their Unwillinguess to do anything
further until late in the afternoon. They
would make up for lost time after sun
down. Dave, however, took his FORK as
usual, and started for the field, and when
the old farmer called and urged him to
wait until the worst of the midday heat
had worn away, he only shook his head,
and answered that he did not mial the
heat.
Later, when the young men went back
to their work, they found Dave lying in
the burning sun as though dead. They
brought him TO the house and placed him
under my care. For many days after
ward his life hung in a balance, and only
the most careful nursing prevented the
shock from proving fatal. Much of the
time he was deIirious, and in the rawlings
of his disordcred mind | learned some
thing of his past history. He often
cried out: Elsie, l didn't do the deed,
~ they will hang me; yes, they will
LAD. me, for they heard me say that |
would kill him. [ didn't mean what |
said, and | didn't do it. Elsie, don't
you believe mel Come back, Else, come
back, come backi' and IN his frantic
eagerness l had to hold him down by
force.
His voice became almost pathetic as he
pleaded for Elsie not to turn away with
that look of horror Oh her face. at is
not the hanging, Elsie" he often cried
out. 81 could easily die if it were not
that you believe me guilty. o., that
wretched threat and that wretcled quar-
rel; but | tell you, Elsie, that am in
u%ocent." Sometimes he would grow
quiet and murmur softly ~ knew, dear
Elsie, that you would believe me in
n~ocent."
One morning. he opsae1 his eyes AMI 1
saw by his LOOK that reason had re 'urnei.
He asked what had happened, aud
| told him that he had been very i'll.