Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1895-03-20

air, q jarring thud as of ten thousand
earthquakes, SUNS shooting before his
eyes-and that was all. Oblivion held
him entirely.
Later on the doctor presented the
patient, over whom there had been
some controversy, with o paper which
contained lengthy account of the
fire, and the patient marvelled OF the
inventive powers of Chicago journal
lists. When, however, he came to the
list of the killed, about which there
could not we'll be any sentimental ro-
mancing, he put the paper down with
start. For awhile he lay still with
eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then his
glance descended again and roved
round the ward rather guilty. Find
ing that no one was noticing him, he
once more picked up the paper. Yes,
there it was, in uncomp promising black
and white, the third in the list of the
killed. "George 81. Carr, of Wing
ford, England" Curiosity made him
search further among the columns,
and be found the method Of his death
described with gruesome adiectives
and lur1d headlines. This last owned
to being imaginative, as it mentioned
that he had never been seen alive after
retiring for the night.
Yet it was bad conjecture of what
might have occurred to q man who
was slowly sufocated to death.
Again tho paper futtered to the
floor, and again Carr's eyes sought the
ceiling. He was thinking very hard
indeed, and couldn't quite make up
his mind to something. A course
seemed open before him, a course
which had some drawbacks, but null
titude of good points. For one thing,
it would ease him forever of his wife,
who had tormented his love into some
thing akin to hatred for another
The doctor came and broke into his
reverie:
"I want to know your name. The
hotel registers are burned, and the
papers wish to print list of surviv-
ors, so that we may tot up with more
accuracy how many poor wretches are
missing. It's been sad business this,
all round; mighty sad business.
Many deaths, and-what did you say
your name was, sir"
It was now or never. The choice
| had to be made or the chance missed.
"Carey."
The doctor noted it down on his
cuff. sInitials, please"
"Henry G."
ssWhere of? You're English, /
guess-isn't that 500"
"Yes, Londoner.
''Thanks, Iw1-1'i ask you how do
Like our city, because perhaps you've
got rather o bad first impression. But
thatll wear off, sir. You'll like it be-
fore you've DONE"
s.I hope so," said the patient,
dreamily. Sim here in America to
stay. I hope shall get on
'Hope so, I'm sure" said the doc
tor briskly. "Wish you every kind
of luck"
An outcast, ragged. bent, md pre-
maturely aged, stopped along beside
a high park wall. The slushy snow
of an English spring ebbed and flowed
across the soles of his bursting boots;
the chill of the wind bit savasely
through his rags of clothes. Presently
the wall gave place to a sunk fence,
and the tramp stopped and gazed at
the view. Over an expanse of pGrk,
and lawn, and terraces, rose the tim
bered walls and gables of an Eliza
bethan country house, trim, solid,
graceful. As he watched, fallow
deer came out into the open, gazed at
him for moment in naughty impu-
dence, and then trotted into covert.
The tramp, with sigh, started
wearily on his way. "It seems even
grander than I was told Of" he muir
INJURED to himself. "Wealth, COM
fort, happiness everywhere. And it
might all have been mine. Every
stick and every shrub left to the
wife and me between us. It fell to
us by will the day before IL died;
the day before I was burnt to ashes in
the Chicago fire. Fancy the irony Of
that! The day before! Why didn't
the news reach me? Pda fine fund OF
selishness about me then.
"And Louise was right after all. 1t
was her duty to urge me to business.
I was as lazy as the day was long then; !;
and she told me of it, and I hated her
for speaking. I've thought since over
that letter, and the pain it must have
caused her to write.
"Eh, we'll. that's oil past and done
with. I died. T was full OF conceit
in myself, and thought on American
fortune was easily made, even if it was
sometimes lost with suddenness. Pah! !!
I never reached the first rung of the
ladder. I never rose above laboring
with my hands at unskilled trades;
and it was being constantly shown me
| how T was an Indifferent laborer at
that.
"No, I've missed it, badly, and all
through my own shortsighted fault. 1
might have had wife, children and o
stately home. What do have is my
share of the Queens wet highway, and
weary aches to lie down upon. o.
myself I shall never now be more than
what I ana broken waster. But
there is one thing I won't do, and
that's ask help from her. She'd give
it, if I sought for it; she'd call me
back as her husband if she knew me
to be alive; she'd share with ME will.
ingly what is, perhaps, after all,
legally mine to share. But no. She's
q good woman, and I'm what they call
in the States mean man. Yes,
mighty mean, and down at heel, not
at ell white: but I've made my bed,
and I won't remake it even if l have
| 1Lo obo,oo rNbin op ora nDnon, f0rto.