St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1899-06-10

Il iUie Change III MS COnQ1tlOn. Ills 1T1cnQ:
were hopeful still. and the professor
although reticent, expressed his BELLE
in the ultimate success of the rest cure
Warren had become Indifferent t.
everything but his task. The walls G
his room were defaced with knife cuts;
there remained only an inch of space
upon which to mark his interminable
hieroglyphics. Observing this, he be
gan to argue with himself where he
might begin anew. He shook his head
sadly.
'Only an inch," he muttered.
Then he sprang up, and, seeing a
knife, began to work industriously
One, two, three, then up to 60, then
GO again. and SO on until the space was
completely covered. He was in despair.
Suddenly brilliant idea occurred to
him. He gathered up the rugs, rolled
the window. Then he began to cut
marks on the floor. Frequently weary
and bending, his knees callous, his
hands shaking, he would fall asleep,
and wake only to continue his task.
Day and night became alike to him.
Finally the floor was covered. What
was he to do now? AS the problem
confronted him the mailman wept tears
Of despair. He sat for some time
crouched beneath a window. then
slow smile diffused itself over his face.
He tore away his sleeve, and, barring his
arm. pricked his skin with the point Of
the knife. He counted aloud as he did
so, while the blood trickled from the
wound. Then the mailman grew elated;
there would remain yet another arm,
after that the legs. finally the chest.
His fingers were clotted with blood
as he worked eagerly, tattooing arms
and legs. In the silence of the room he
heard familiar sound. 1t resembled
the ticking of a clock. He paused twice
to listen. Yes, he was not mad; no one
could mistake the steady ''tick. tick"
\ clock. He sprang to his feet, the
knife gathering upon the floor. \
clock. Where was it? He dashed about
the room. He could see nothing-the
clock was hidden. Still steadily sound
ed the tick, tick" Always at the same
distance, no nearer, no further.
He remembered a watch that he had
carried when boy: silver gift watch
given him by his father.
He felt his pocket. Perhaps it was
there now. No. his pocket was empty.
lie bent his head over his left shoulder. |
listening intently. Then he cried aloud |
in delight.
He had found the clock. It was there.
where his heart had once benin his |
body. on the left side. How loud it |
licked! He held his coat over it to
nuffle the sound that seemed to pene-
rate the walls. With his nails he dug
nto the flesh. striving to tear from i:
he precious timepiece.
"Tick. tick
Heavens! How time was passing!
lie struck his chest fiercely. With the
he stepped backward. AS he
lid so his foot struck something. He
ooked down and saw the knife. Then
le was calm. Tick. tick" went the
lock. but the sound troubled him no
onger. In a moment he would see the
White dial, the black hands moving
lowly and that other hand that twirled
way the seconds. Once again he would
e master of time. not its slave.
He stopped and picked up the knife
is edge was ragged where he had
orced it into the walls. He moved the
pgers OF his right hand carefully along
is side. until he felt that they rested
irectly above the clock.
Tick. tick"
The point of the knife met the sound
nd silenced it.-Chicago Times-Her.
Id.