The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1894-12-05

the narrow rocky roads, the gray and red
farm houses Of Alton. He remembered
too. his father, the old doctor of all that
region, physician of souls and bodies,
whom everybody had missed, he himself
most of all.
Ashurst. with bright color in his cheeks.
II know how much your kindness would
mean-but you see they need a doctor up
at Alton
There are plenty of DOCTORS" said the
old gentleman, grutfiy. The people up there
can get a doctor-there's Duncan Graf
ton or Smith who promise fairly well. and
don't know where in the world to settle
You ought to have a larger place. Come
make a push and take what belongs to
YOU
II feel as if I were needed up at Alton,
SIR said the young doctor. with the anx-
iety slowly leaving his face, and a happy
light coming into his eyes again, though
he reached his hand for the back of chair
close by and took hard hold of it. Duty
was shining clear that the moment of
temptation was quickly over, but he sud-
denly remembered that he was turning his
back upon the most beloved companion
ship that he had ever known, except his
fathers. The doctors about Alton whom
he should sometimes meet, were Old-faSh-
Toned men, not of the best sort; some of
whom were likely to be jealous of him.
There would be no more talk for him now
their profession from anything like a
wide point of view, to whom he could speak
in his own language. He was facing a
good deal of loneliness; he could not hope to
go to New York very often; he was in debt
already for his educa ton. DR.. Best was an
old man, too; they might never meet again.
The old doctor rose gruffly-the moment
hal grown too painful for them both.
well, well!' he said, impatently. You
must do as you think best; mother living
1l~,s%
home anywhere else: sacred inheritance
from your father to take up his work; 1
know, 1 know, but If he were here he'd feel
just as l do. No, no, I sha'nt forget you.
I'm too busy to write much, l never prom
Use; but you write to me if you like and
keep up with the periodicals. poor as they
are, they're better than nothing, and you
must follow the new notions. Some day,
if I can get off, I may run up among the
hills in the summer. God bless you, my
boy!' said the old gentleman, handing him
a book, but not even offering to shake
hands, and turning again, grumbling to
himself, to tumble among some papers
John Ashurst escaped as quickly as he
could-he felt little light-headed and brok-
en-, as If 1t would be easy to shed tears
When he reached his boarding place he sat
down drearly, and thought for a long
time, deeply and anxiously. And at last
he looked at the great book. 1t was the
very best French surgical work of the day,
one that DR.. Best had just imported; he
could not have bought it himself with a
months hard work.
II.
A good many years afterward, one win
ter day, John Ashurst grown older, and
gray and weather-beaten with his long
drives over the windy hills, came into a
railroad car from one of the small stations
within 20 miles of Alton. He carried a
heavy wrap over his arm, Scotch plaid
which DR.. Best, dead now these many
years, had sent him once after a summer
abroad. They had both been too busy to
see each other often; once or twice thew
had met and once or twice they had done
things for each other; but they had never
failed to be truly intimate. 1t had proved
as the elder man had foreseen, that John
Ashurst had taught him and other doc
tors more than anybody could teach in re-
turn. And he had done marvellous things
IN surgery and medicine of which the
world never heard, but, for all that, the
best physicians knew him by name and
reputation.
He wore the same boyish, simple look
or his student days, and he had a doc
tors lovely habit of taking care of other
people, so that when he sat down. stiff
and tired from a long drive over frozen
ground, he noticed that his next neighbor
cross, grumpy-looking old fellow, whose
seat he asked to share in the crowded
car, looked old and pinched and seriously
. i'll besides. His quick eye saw signals Of
danger from most obscure disease and
ne gave little sigh as he settled himself
and tucked his warm wrap around his
companions knees and drew a corner of IL
over his own.
Its too cold here, sir" he said in an
offhand way. II haven't got far to go
myself. I'm ashamed that there are no
stoves in the cars yet. I spoke to the con-
ductor this morning about Them"
The elderly traveller turned grateful
surprised face. You're very kind. sir, he
Uaid. i've been fairly suffering. I haven't