News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1893-04-20

| prettiost of doctors wives that one
| could imagine. l loved my fair cous-
| in. As q boy, | showed her every lit
tie chivalrous service which in the
house or garden is demanded of the
strong er cOmrade. AS a junior in
school l had inscribed nv first poem
to her; and as a senior | had badly
injured my voice, which was just then
returning to baritone, by singing in
! cessantly of the flaXen-haired girl"
When | returned home after passing
my first examination, the first thing
of all that the student noticed was
that "the faxen-haired girl" had
come to love him as completely as he
loved her. Neither said anything on
the subject. My university period
passed by. All the time | had work
ed earnestly, and whenever had un-
dergone the tedious struggle of ex-
aminations victoriously Marie's eyes
seemed to express her lively interest
in the successful accomplishment of
all my endeavors. And when my
cousin Marie, greeted my return said
softly, Her Doctor Echardt," then
saw bright blush come over her
face as she turned toward the window
seat
Now and then, during the next few
days, had an opportunity to speak
to Marie of all the castles in Spain
which a young physician could build
in his empty dwelling; but | dared
not inform her of my dream in regard
to the future doctors wife. There
lay in the blue eyes of my dearest an
expression which kept back my words
even when they almost found utter
ance. | had no doubt that Marie
would eventually be my wife, but it
seemed as if lack of confidence of my
ability as a physician lay in her
glance. That increased my pride and
induced me to remain silent and wait
the time when the report of my first
professional achievement would pro-
claim my ability to Marie.
With my thoughts absorbed in al!
these things, l sat on the afternoon
OF a dreary November day in my con-
sultatiOn room, and at first failed to
notice a faint ring at my bell. Then
l arose to open the door myself, as
had sent my errand boy to market.
l Iconfess that, during the few steps
that were necessary to bring me to
the door n flood of very strange
thoughts came over me. A caller was
seeking my help. Very likely it was
a patient of high birth and l should
certainly receive a rich reward and
fame-I was already married to my
dear Marie.
opened the door. In the half dark
of the late Autumn day stood poor
ly clad woman before me. Out of her
haggard and charcoal blackened face
looked pair of great dark eyes be-
seechingly at me.
Doctor" said the woman in a
trembling voice, "doctor be merciful,
oh, please. My little Marie is sick"
The name atOned for the woman's
unprOmising appearance. which coin
cided badly with my latest dreams.
Who are you? Who sent you to
me?" L asked. l,
mo one" the woman answered
quickly and in a low. voice. "Oh,
doctor, do comel have been carry
ing coal all day from the wagon into
house near by. | live over there in
the court yard My child has been
sick since yesterday. L found her so
much worse that came to you at
once"
| hesitated somewhat, the olsen
chantment was so great.
The woman wiped her face with her
blackened hand
f,ao xr-hsah oil cI0y
many burrows caused by sorrow and
| trials.
Il should have gone for the charity
physician" she said wearily, "but
your servant, doctor, is a child of the
shoemaker in our court yard, and he
has told everyone that you are such
a good man. Oh, do help my little
girl" .s. .-.:
decided to go with the woman,
After all, one is a man, and most of
all he is a man who has learned to do
his duty. So | went with her, after l
had gathered together the necessary
instruments with pomposity which
astonished and halEshamed even my
self
Across the street we took our
course into a great courtyard lying
behind row of houses Then she
led me up five flights of stairs, each
one darker and sleeper than the first,
and finally through a badly fitted
door to a little room with slanting
ceiling and very little windows. On
a miserable but neatly arranged bed
lay child of perhaps fourteen
months. Her limbs were fever heat
ed and her eyes were wandering and
impressive.
The woman bent down to the bed
side. "She does not know mel She
does not know mel" she moaned.
The child coughed. 1t was a Group
GUS cough of the worst sort. | tore
a leaf from my book and wrote my
first prescription as a practicing
physician.
TO the nearest apothecary," l
said
The woman looked at me en-
barrassed.
"Can l take it to the one on Konig-
strasse?" she said.
"No, Mol" l cried. cit requires
the greatest haste. Why will you
not go to the apothecary in this
street?
The woman redeemed preceptably,
in spite of the charcoal dust. Final
ly she stammered: THE apothe-
cary in the Konigstrasse knows me;
| carry coal there, and he will perhaps
II have no money"
A heavy tear dropped on the paper
in her hand.
These people, who can pay no drug
gist and no physician" said | angri-
ly but inaudibly Ttook out some
money and said aloud: "There take
that and go quickly"
The woman kissed the hand of her
child and then, before | could stop
her, she kissed mine also and hasten
ed away. looked around the room
for a seat. A rickety chair, a red
chest, an old table, some miserable
dishes on a poor cold oven, which oc-
cupied the place of a hearth, compris-
ed all the furniture. Hanging on a
wall in corner was a threadbare
wollen garment and a child's cloak
and a little hat with q ribbon ~ ound
it in a fingers breadth wide; on a
bracket hanging next the window
was "a withered myrtle tree, a red ger
anium and hymn book, with dis
gusting yellow edges. That was all
that the room held.
| | sat down beside the little pirl