The Tomahawk., 1916-11-30

hail."
And so the sleeper murmured on.
Sometimes the voice was thick and
discordant, sometimes low and clear
and tuneful as child's. "Never touch
whisky! he went on, almost harshly.
"Never-never! Drop in the street
first. I did. The doctor will come
then, and he knows what you
want. Not Observation-Disclosures; the
kind that makes you warm again
makes you want to live; but don't ever
dare touch whisky. Let other people
drink it if they want 1T. Sell it to
them; they'll get it anyhow; but don't
you touch it! 1t killed your father.
it killed Tom, and-oh !-mother!
mother! motherw Tears actually
teemed from underneath the sleeper'S
lids, and glittered down the pa1lid and
distorted features. 'There's a medi-
cine that's good for you when you
want whisky" he went On.-"When
you are weak, and everybody else is
strong-and always when the flag
stones give way beneath your feet, and
the long street undul;ites and wavers
as you walk; why, that's sign for
you to take that medicine-and take
it quick! Oh, it will warm you till the
little pale blue streaks in your white
hands will bulge out again with
tingling blood, and it will start up
from it's stagnant pools and leap from
vein to vein till it reaches your beings
farthest height and drOOps and falls
and folds down over icy brow and face
like soft veil moistened with pure
warmth. All! it is so deliriously sweet
and resHul!"
heard a moaning in the room be-
low, and then steps on the stairs, and
a tapping at the door. It was Mary.
Mrs. Clark had awakened and was cry
ing for her son. "But we must not
awaken him." said. "Give Mrs. Clark
the medicine the doctor left for her
that will quiet her."
"But she won't take it, sir. She
won't do anything at all for me-and
if Mr.. Clark could only come to her,
for minute, she would"
The woman's speech was broken by
a shrill cry in the hall, and then the
thud of naked feet on the stairway.
II want my boy-my boy!" walled the
hysterical woman from without.
"Go to your mistress I said
sternly, pushing the maid from the
room.--''Take her back; will come
down to your assistance in moment
Then I turned hastily to see If the
sleeper had been disturbed by the
wOman's cries; but all was peaceful
with him yet and so, throwing COW
erlet over him, drew the door to 81
lently and went below.
I found the wretched mother in an
almost frenzied state, and her increas-
ing violence alarmed me so that 1
thought it best to summon the ply
sician again; and bidding the servant
not to leave her for an instant, I hur-
ried for the help so badly needed. This
time the doctor was long delayed, al
though he joined me with all possible
haste, and with all speed accOmpa-
MED me back to the unhappy home.
Entering the door, our ears were greet
ed with a shrek that came piercing
shuddered as with fear. It was the
patients voice shrilling from the Sleep
er's room upstairs 30 God! My boy
I want my boy, and he will not waken
for mel" An instant later we were
both upon the scene.
The woman in her frenzy had brok-
en- from the servant to find her son.
And she had found him.
She had wound her arms about him,
and had dragged his still sleeping
form upon the floor. He would not
awaken, even though she gripped him
to her heart and shrieked her very
soul out in his ears. He would not
waken. The face, though whittier than
her own, betokened only utter rest
and peace. We drew her, limp and
voiceless, from his side. 1--WE are too
late," the doctor whispered, lifting
with his finger one of the closed lids,
and letting it drop to again.-"See
herer' He had been feeling at the
wrist; and, as he spoke, he slipped the
sleeve up, barred the sleeper's arm.
From the wrist to elbow it was livid
purple, and pltted ana Scared Wlth
minute wounds-some scarcely sealed
as yet with clotted blood.
"In heavens name, what does it all
mean?" asked.
morphine" said the doctor, land
the hypodermic. And here" he ex-
claimed, lifting the other hand-'here
is folded card with your name at the
top" ....
I snatched it from him, and I read,
written in faint but rounded charac-
tiers:
II like to hear your voice. 1t sounds
kind. It is like a far-oa tune. To
drop asleep, though, as I am doing
now, is sweeter music-but read on
have taken something to make me-
sleep, and by mistake I have taken
too much; but you will read right on.
Now, mind you, this is not suicide. as
God listens to the whisper of this pen
oil r Il hxy, ssf To