St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1894-04-28
second Sunday had gone, and he knew

second Sunday had gone. and he knew
that only one remained to him.
ltwas wonderful how tenaciously thu
idea clung to his mind-the positive be
lief that he was doomed man, market
by Death as his prey. How gentle and
kind and tender he was to all 1t home
Perhaps, II more people could develop Z
similar hallucination. it might be bet
ter for the peace OF many = household
To be ever preparing for the grea,
event would keep all of US gentle and
kinder and more considerate.
Looking back upon that time in after
years Bessie Carewe was obliged to i'd
init that it was the happiest, most
peaceful time Of all her married life.
But, of course. she knew nothing of hez
husbands firm belief in mis- approach.
ing demise. She had. in fact, forgot.
ten all about Arnold's odd dream. and
he had not explained to her its horrible
exactneSS
The days went by. The holidays
sad and sweetly solemn to the man who
felt that they werc the very last be
should ever see upon earth-were gone,
and the seventh day Of January he'd
come. Carewe now discarded his watch.
placing it in his dressing-case He did
not wish to see . timepiece. Only sew.
enty-two hours between him and the
great Unknown-unless it had all been
only dream! Yet, that seemed quite
impossible. For why should the two
brothers have both dreamed the same
thing unless it was intended Is = most
solemn warning?
So carefully avoiding every tmc-
piece, making all possible efforts t. for
get the fatal and fast-approaching hour,
Arnold Carewe waited
The 10th of January cam e and at last
"a bright, winter day.
He arose in the morning. sfte. .
sleepless night saying to himself:
MY last day on earth! God help
me."
He looked SO pale and worn and %
evidently i'll that his wife begged him
to remain home from he Office that
day.
And, rs that was what he had secietly
intended doing, he consented
As the fatal hour drew near-fo: he
imagined it to be near the time-he
made his way to tho pretty guest
chamber and lay down upon . soft
couch. A fire ha d been kindled in the
CRATE and the room was warm and
cheerful Over the fireplace upon q
marble mantel tiny clock was stand
ing. Arnold Carewe turned his eyes
rcsolutely away from it He dia not
wish to know the exact moment So he
lay there, and grad ually . slow feeling
OF torpor began to steal over him. His
wife came into the room, and with her
the two pretty children-he had told
her to bring them. He took his loved
ones in his arms and strained them to
his heart in . passionate farewell, all
the more solemn because he dared not
tell Bessie that he believed himself to
be dying. He was conscious of feel
ing Of gratitude that he had been
warned in time.
After . time Bessie took the children
away. Then she returned to his side
with . glass of cordial
Here. dear, drink this" she said,
sweetly; 'it will help you!"
II e obeyed her. and then lay watch
ing the graceful figure. as she moved
about the room.
At last his eyes, in spite OF his de-
ter,nina ton to the contrary, wandered
to the clock and rested there.
Good heavens! Ten minutes past
two!
BESSIE" he mosned feebly, 'come!"
Then al grew dark before his eyes;
he felt like one stepping softly AWAY
then darkness fell.
"Aruo Id! Arnold! wake up! am
afraid you will sleep too long! i is
past six o'clock!"
Bessie Carewe bent over his PROSTATE
form, and Arnold Carewe opened his
eyes.
Am in Heavenv' be gasped.
Dear memo! You have been
asleep ever since half-rast twol ] gave
you dose of my sleeping medicine in
that glass of cordial. know you have
not slept for nights. Why. Arnold.
what are you staring at?'
For he wae sitting up now, gazing in
the rosy lamplight At that clock.
Still ten minutes past twoi
''Oh, yes" she lau ghed lightly; tho
clock is broken. Don't you remember
the children were playing with it last
summer. and broke the works? It has
never been repaired Why. Arnold.
what is the natter"
For he was upon his feet now. and,
seixing his wife In his arms, swung her
quite OF her feet His brain seemed
turned with joy. It was ecstacy: the
knowledge that he was still alive, and
life and hope and love were his yet
Then he told Bessie all, and she cried
. little, but she said she was crying for
joy.
''Its almost Is il you had died and
come to life again" she said. 'Oh. Ar
mold, let N be thankful"
And Andrew Carewe has never be-
lieved In dreams since that day.-MrA
E. Burke Collins, In n. Y. Weekly.
The Way 0f the World
See that man? He is broke. He was
II AY