The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1897-01-22


i suppose may say a successful doc
tor's-lot is, when his practice lies in a
poor and densely populated district Of
London. Dreary as such beginning
might be, it would perhaps allay some
of the incredulity which this tale may
probably provoke, as it would plainly
show how little room there is for
things imaginative or romantic in
work so hard as mine, or among such
grim realities Of poverty, pain, and
grief, as those by which | have been
surrounded. 1t would certainly make
it appear extremely unlikely that 1
should have found time to imagine,
much less to write, romance OF mel
Odrama.
The truth is. that. when a man has
toiled from 9 o'clock in the morning
until o'clock at night, such leisure
as he can enjoy is precious to him,
especially when even that short respite
is liable to be broken in upon at any
moment.
Still, in spite of the doleful picture
have drawn of what may be called
1.-THE daily grind.'' begin this tale with
the account of holiday
In the autumn Of 1864 I turned my
back with light goodwill upon London
streets, hospitals and patients, and
took my seat in the North Express.
The first revolution of the wheels sent
a thrill Of delight through my jaded
frame. A joyful sensation Of freedom
came over me. | had really got away
at last! Moreover, l had left no adj
dress behind me, SO for three blessed
weeks might roam an undisputed lord
of myself. Three weeks were not very
many to take out Of the fifty-two, but
they were all | could venture to give
myself; for even at that time my
practice, if not so lucrative as l could
wish, was a large an increasing one.
Having done a twelvemonth's hard
work, I felt no one in the kingdom
could take his holiday with a con-
science clearer than mine, so | lay back
in peculiarly contented frame of
mind. and discounted the coming pleas
ure of my brief respite from labor.
There are many ways Of passing a
holiday-many places at which it may
be spent; but, after all, il you wish to
enjoy it thoroughly, there is but one
royal rule to be followed. That is,
simply to please yourself-go where
you like, and mount the innocent holi-
day hobby which is dearest to your
heart. let it's name be botany, geology,
etymology, conchology, venery, pisca-
fion. or what not. Then you will be
happy, and return well braced up for
the battle of life. l knew a city clerk
with literary tastes. who invariably
spent his annual fortnight among the
mustiest tones of the British Museum,
and averred that his health was more
benefited by so doing than if he had
passed the time inhaling the freshest
ea-breezes. l dare say he was right in
his assertion.
Sketching has always been my favor
ite holiday pursuit. Poor as my draw
ings may be, nevertheless as l turn
them ever in my portfolio, they bring,
fo me- at least. vivid remembrances
of many sweet and picturesque spots,
happy days, and congenial companions.
1t is not for me to say anything of
their actual merits, but they are dear
to me for their associations.
This particular year 1 went to North
Wales, and made BettwS-y-Coed my
Headquarters. I stayed at the Royal
Oak. that well-known little inn dear
to many an artists heart, and teem-
ing with "reminiscences Of famous men
who have sojourned there times with
out number. 1t was here 1 made the
acquaintance of the man with whose
life the curious events here told are
connected.
On the first day after my arrival at
Bettws my appreciation of my liberty
was so thorough, my appetite for the
enjoyment of the beauties of nature so
keen and Unsuitable, that l went so far
and saw SO much, that when 1 returned
to the Royal Oak night had fallen and
the hour of dinner had long passed by
was. when my own meal was placed
on the table, the only occupant of the
coffee-room. Just then a young man
entered, and ordered something to cat.
The waiter knowing, no doubt, some
thing OF the frank camaraderie which
exists, or should exist, between the
followers Of the painters craft, laid his
cover at my table. The newcomer
seated himself, gave me a pleasant
smile and a nod, and in five minutes
we were in full swing Of conversation.
The moment my eyes fell upon the
young man had noticed how singular
ly handsome he was. Charles Carriston
for this found afterward to be his
name-was about twenty-five years Of
age. lie was tall, but slightly built;
his whole bearing and figure being re-
narkably elegant and graceful. He
looked even more than gentlemanly-
he looked distinguished. His face was
pale. its features well cut, straight and
regular. His forehead spoke cf high
intellectual qualities, and there was
somewhat CT that development over the
eyebrows which phrenologists, l be-
!,