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 DOCTOR JOHN SAWYER 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. E. J. BARTLETT 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 COPLEY SQUARE 
 
 1893
 
 Copyrighted 1893 
 
 by 
 
 MRS. E. J. BARTLETT 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Arena Press.
 
 The character of Allan Varney, de- 
 picted within these pages, was long 
 under the observation of the writer, 
 who is convinced that human nature 
 has often an endowment beyond mor- 
 tal ken, and human judgment may 
 err on the side of incredulity. 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE. 
 
 February i4th, 1893. 
 
 2072384
 
 Abou Ben Ad- 
 hem (may his 
 tribe increase ! ) 
 Awoke one night 
 from a deep dream of peace, 
 And saw, within the moonlight in 
 
 his room, 
 Making it rich and like a lily in 
 
 bloom, 
 
 An angel writing in a book of gold. 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben 
 
 Adhem bold, 
 And to the presence in the room he 
 
 said, 
 " What writest thou ? " The vision 
 
 raised its head, 
 
 And, with a look made of all sweet 
 accord, 
 
 7
 
 8 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Answered, "The names of those 
 who love the Lord." 
 
 "And is mine one?" said Abou. 
 " Nay, not so, " 
 
 Replied the angel. Abou spoke 
 more low, 
 
 But cheerily still : and said, " I pray 
 thee, then, 
 
 Write me as one that loves his fel- 
 low-men." 
 
 The angel wrote, and vanished. 
 The next night 
 
 It came again, with a great waken- 
 ing light, 
 
 And showed the names whom love 
 of God had blessed, 
 
 And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led 
 all the rest ! 
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 

 
 DOCTOR JOHN SAWYER 
 
 "WELL! Well. 
 This is out of my 
 line, old man." 
 
 Docter Sawyer 
 tipped back in his 
 office chair, and knit his shaggy 
 eyebrows, surmounting like senti- 
 nels the kindly gray eyes, while his 
 very attitude suggested that the 
 placidity of the even tempered man 
 was disturbed. 
 
 An old college chum and a still 
 warm friend living in New York 
 city, had written, asking him to find 
 a boarding place, among his "be- 
 loved hills " for a young patient suf- 
 
 9
 
 10 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 faring from insomnia, whom he de- 
 sired Doctor Sawyer to look after. 
 
 "Nothing but a radical change 
 from a fashionable life will prevent 
 nervous prostration," the letter read. 
 
 "I am determined that Helen 
 Lindsey shall be a child of nature 
 for one season, and remembering 
 what you told me, when we met at 
 Richfield Springs last year, of the 
 quaint people who enticed you from 
 a sure fortune, to say nothing of 
 fame I turn to you, to look up 
 a farmhouse with comfortable ap- 
 pointments in your beautiful New 
 England town, and watch the case 
 for me. 
 
 ' ' I will write more in detail after I 
 hear from you, meanwhile I remain 
 "Faithfully Yours. 
 
 " GEORGE L. FOSTER.' 
 New York City, 
 
 April 1 6th, 1890. 
 
 Doctor Sawyer laid the letter on 
 his desk and pondered over his 
 dilemma. 
 
 " I can't think of any place to fill 
 the bill unless the Bates farmhouse 
 is suitable but will Mother Bates 
 consent? There's the rub. For a 
 good price, I'd almost swear she 
 would ; and a break in the monotony 
 of Flora's dull life would be a god-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. \ i 
 
 send to the girl, for she would hear 
 something apart from housework 
 and saving. " 
 
 The above cogitation resulted in 
 the Doctor's turning his horse, a few 
 hours later, into the wide old road 
 where the elm trees towered, and 
 spread, until their branches inter- 
 locked overhead, forming in mid- 
 summer a shade grateful alike to 
 man and beast. 
 
 A drive of twenty minutes took 
 the Doctor to the farm of Elisa Bates, 
 whose house, large and square, with 
 a piazza across the front, stood 
 further from the road than most 
 New England farmhouses, and was 
 built upon an eminence surrounded 
 with trees, that seemed to have 
 grown to invite hammocks, for their 
 very appearance suggested repose 
 and day-dreams. 
 
 Scrupulous neatness, outside and 
 in, tended to impress the personality 
 of the owners of the place upon the 
 mind of the stranger. The windows 
 and doors of the breezy hall were 
 carefully closed to exclude any dar- 
 ing particle of dust which might 
 defy the orderly atmosphere and 
 strive to enter. 
 
 A year before, farmer Bates, to the 
 astonishment of his neighbors, had 
 "citified his house." A bay win-
 
 12 DR. JOHN SA WYER, 
 
 dow had been thrown out from the 
 dining-room facing the west, while 
 that marvel of luxury, for that part of 
 the country, a bath-room, had been 
 put in. 
 
 " Me and mother don't care about 
 sich notions," he said, by way of 
 excuse for this extravagance, "but 
 Flory : she likes it, and I am doing 
 it all to please my girl." 
 
 Mrs. Bates shook her head and 
 protested against this waste of 
 money, but her husband carried his 
 point for once. This, in substance, 
 was floating through Doctor Saw- 
 yer's mind, as he fastened his horse 
 to a hitching-post, and walked up 
 the gravel walk to the kitchen door, 
 where he knew he would find the 
 hard working woman who had toiled 
 year in and year out, as only a 
 farmer's wife can toil, when avarice 
 and a natural love of order chain 
 her to her post. 
 
 The Doctor was a general favorite. 
 His ready sympathy and willing 
 hands, where suffering and poverty 
 touched him the deepest, endeared 
 him alike to all stations, and every 
 chronic complainer felt an individ- 
 ual sense of ownership in him. 
 
 Doctor Sawyer took a seat on the 
 "bench of the kitchen porch where 
 the shelves, on one side, held the in-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 13 
 
 verted milk-pails and pans shining 
 brightly in the warm sunlight. The 
 grass was already of that delicious 
 green seen only in early spring, and 
 seemed almost riotous in its rapid 
 growth, while the budding trees 
 appeared as if they were struggling 
 to foretell the beauty with which 
 maturity would crown them. 
 
 Away across the meadows and 
 undulating fields a row of hills 
 stretched gradually up, until they 
 were lost in the haze, or blended 
 with the distant range of mountains 
 darkly blue. Lost to all but the 
 beauty and grandeur of the scene, 
 the Doctor bared his head. In- 
 voluntarily came to his mind "Ye 
 everlasting hills," when an open- 
 ing door and sharp voice recalled 
 him. 
 
 " La, Doctor, don't set there on 
 that hard bench. Come right in 
 and take Pa's cushioned chair by 
 the winder. " 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Bates, it was 
 so inviting here, I could not resist 
 stopping. How are you all? I 
 don't see your good husband in the 
 fields to-day." 
 
 " No, he and the men are down 
 on the side-hill plantin' pertaters. 
 Sight of work to do ; Pa does work 
 so hard, and now he wants to buy
 
 14 >R- JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 that wood-piece jinin' our wheat- 
 field ; but I tell him we've got land 
 enough. 
 
 " I think you have," answered 
 the Doctor. ' ' See here, Mrs. Bates, 
 you might make money easier in 
 summer than you do, without so 
 much butter-making and farming : 
 Here is this large house all unused 
 in the second story, excepting Flora's 
 room," and thus he plunged head- 
 long into the matter of his errand, 
 in a straightforward manner, never 
 stopping to notice the astonished 
 woman who sat upon the edge of 
 her chair, folding over and smooth- 
 ing a corner of her big apron into 
 a triangular shape, a never-failing 
 habit of her untiring hands when 
 not otherwise occupied. 
 
 " It would be a sight of work, 
 cookin' so much in hot weather," 
 she broke in, unnoticed by the 
 Doctor who proceeded to specify 
 a good price, (although his friend 
 had left that item out of his letter), 
 and deftly putting it at a figure sure 
 to catch the cupidity of his listener, 
 whose expression of face denoted 
 that the bait was a good one. 
 
 " If I were not positive your table 
 would suit, I should never have 
 come to you ; besides your house is 
 so well adapted for it."
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 5 
 
 Mrs. Bates was bewildered. She 
 rose and walked to the kitchen 
 stove, opened the oven door to baste 
 a roast therein, and leisurely put a 
 saucepan of vegetables on to cook 
 for the early dinner, then returned 
 to her chair. 
 
 The prospect of getting her best 
 bedrooms dusty, with flies entering 
 the open windows, and the idea 
 that the parlor, the pride of the New 
 England matron's heart, would be 
 used every day, filled her with 
 alarm yet the money almost clear 
 gain, she rapidly summed up. 
 
 "Dear me ! how you do go on, 
 Doctor Sawyer. Let me think," and 
 she tipped her chair forward 
 "Yes, I could get Huldy Moss to 
 come and help with the work." 
 
 Her hearer smiled to himself as a 
 vision of the same Huldah, insisting 
 upon sitting at the table with the 
 family rose before him. To eat all 
 by herself, " like the Irish Biddies," 
 as she was wont to say, was not a 
 part of Huldah 's plan in life. 
 
 " You see, 'Lias, he likes to eat 
 with the men, says it makes them 
 feel to home like, so Huldy could 
 eat with them in the kitchen, while 
 Flory and I could wait upon the 
 boarders. How many did you 
 say ? "
 
 1 6 DR. JOHN SA WYER, 
 
 The Doctor, delighted to find his 
 proposition taking so well, drew 
 forth the letter. 
 
 " Mr. Lindsey would be here over 
 an occasional Sunday, but his wife, 
 daughter and son of nine years, with 
 a maid, would want to come by the 
 first of June." 
 
 " Well, Doctor, I'll talk it over 
 with 'Lias and Flory. She will fly 
 off the handle, I s'pose, at the idee 
 of city folks coming here, and her Pa 
 never says no to her, but she's a good 
 girl, Flory is, only she had rather 
 be out of doors gatherin' wild flowers 
 or ridin' Dandy, than settin' down at 
 her sewin'. " 
 
 " Better for her, too," retorted the 
 Doctor; "it will help to make her 
 strong and fitter to bear life's bur- 
 dens later on. " 
 
 "'Sakes alive, Doctor Sawyer, ain't 
 I strong enough ? and I never went 
 gadding off every blessed day. " 
 
 The man looked at the angular 
 figure, raw-boned, and sinewy 
 from labor, all grace and harmony 
 obliterated from never-ceasing toil, 
 which Nature fitted her for appar- 
 ently, and again asked himself " how 
 had such a graceful Hebe as Flora 
 Bates sprung from such a source ? " 
 The only living child, born in the 
 early days of this money-loving
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 7 
 
 couple ; others had followed, and 
 lived for few weeks or months help- 
 less little waifs of vitiated strength. 
 Maternity or its claim, made no 
 difference in Mrs. Bates, routine of 
 work, and the rest which was 
 allowed the cattle on their farm, 
 was considered unnecessary for the 
 human species ; so Nature avenged 
 herself, by the severest penalty, 
 which the unheeding defier of nat- 
 ural law, considered a ' ' dispensation 
 of Providence " and submitted in a 
 spirit of resignation to contribute 
 a quota of little graves to the village 
 grave-yard. 
 
 Florinda, only, had lived, and her 
 mother's heart rejoiced that she 
 could bear the name of the heroine 
 of the only novel time had allowed 
 Mrs. Bates to read. 
 
 Flora, she was called at school, 
 and the name fitted her well. When 
 the question of better advantages 
 for an education than the town 
 school afforded came up, Mr. Bates 
 carried the day, and his daughter 
 was allowed a two-years' course in 
 a near-by seminary. A natural love 
 for study and reading had stored 
 her mind with useful, and a goodly 
 share of romantic diversity of infor- 
 mation. 
 
 The sordid, narrow life of her
 
 1 8 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 home was cruelly distasteful, but 
 she found congenial society in the 
 village circle, for not all of New 
 England society is drawn after the 
 pattern of Maria Louise Poole's pic- 
 tures. 
 
 Flora possessed a fine voice, and 
 was an enthusiast in music, but was 
 denied all but a meager training in 
 vocal culture. Her mother's foot 
 went down against what she called 
 a "device of Satan's to make peo- 
 ple spend their hard-earned money. " 
 A piano was the most daring wish 
 in the life of Flora, effectually 
 nipped in the bud, although as her 
 father sometimes joked about it, 
 with a wink to his daughter, she 
 cherished the hope that, some dis- 
 tant day, he might defy the law of 
 the " Medes and Persians" that 
 governed their household economy. 
 
 The girl was a particular favorite 
 of Doctor Sawyer, who realized the 
 starvation her mind suffered through 
 her environment. In his capacity 
 of physician he found time and 
 opportunity to study all phases of 
 character and temperament. 
 
 A logical thinker, he was never 
 surprised at any hidden or unex- 
 plained force that he came upon, 
 and while he respected the preju- 
 dices of others, often the outcome of
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 19 
 
 narrow boundaries, he retained his 
 own impressions, unmindful of com- 
 ment or adverse consideration. 
 Nature was a constant teacher. 
 Every phase convinced him the 
 clearer that while man in invention 
 was "Nature's Chief," there were 
 heights and depths human reason 
 could not sound. 
 
 The limitations surrounding the 
 understanding of humanity were to 
 him controlled by laws, like invis- 
 ible links of steel, while man, blind 
 to their power, claimed to be able 
 to account for all miscalculated phe- 
 nomena.
 
 THE town of 
 Harrow, built 
 01? the Uplands, with 
 no incentive for that 
 iconoclast, the man- 
 ufacturer, had seen 
 but few changes, and had grown 
 gradually into a large, provincial, 
 and in its own way, aristocratic 
 town. 
 
 Possessing rare attractions for the 
 lover of the picturesque, other and 
 less charming spots had drawn the 
 "madding crowd." Farms had 
 remained in the same family for 
 generations, and money had ac- 
 cumulated by thrift and industry, 
 20
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 2 1 
 
 but the town, like others, had its 
 own modicum of the shiftless and 
 poor. 
 
 The old Congregational church, 
 situated on a romantic knoll half 
 way up a hill, with an added wing 
 on either side, as the increasing 
 census of the town demanded, was 
 quite pretentious, and had a deserv- 
 ing popularity. Its pastor had 
 grown old and mellow with time, 
 modifying the early tempestuous 
 denunciation against the sinner, 
 which, interpreted, meant the man 
 or woman outside the saving power 
 of the Church. 
 
 The other denominational, and 
 withal most forcible sect, had their 
 place of worship built where the 
 Methodists seek for converts, 
 among "God's poor," and stood 
 with its glaring white surface and 
 green blinds, in a square on the 
 other side of the town. Its mem- 
 bers were largely reinforced from 
 the adjoining town, where a large 
 factory gathered a motley crowd of 
 all nationalities. 
 
 Vigorously the ever-changing 
 pastors and elders strove to keep 
 the backsliders from the pitfalls, 
 but a frequent lapse would ensue. 
 It can readily be understood how a 
 conservative in religious matters,
 
 22 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 would be regarded in most New 
 England towns. 
 
 Our liberal-minded Doctor was 
 exhorted in vain, but prayed for 
 openly and in secret, by every man 
 and woman inside the fold. His 
 unflinching integrity and helpful 
 sympathy forbade utter condemna- 
 tion, however. He was an embodi- 
 ment of individualism, choosing 
 from the instincts of his heart his 
 own path, wherein he walked fear- 
 lessly. On his way from the farm, 
 he called to see a patient in whom 
 he felt a deep and affectionate in- 
 terest. A young lad of fourteen 
 years, helpless from spinal disease, 
 with a face of remarkable beauty, 
 and a frame like a child. A few 
 years before, Mrs. Varney had come 
 to Harrow for the air and quiet its 
 seclusion promised, with her only 
 remaining tie, the afflicted lad 
 whom she idolized. 
 
 Mrs. Varney was a bright, cheer- 
 ful woman, whose patient endurance 
 and sterling sense won for her uni- 
 versal respect, and the Doctor found 
 it a rest " a tonic to his mind," he 
 declared, to call and bandy argu- 
 ment with the charming woman 
 and her son, whose mind was cul- 
 tivated beyond his years. The 
 neighbors could find nothing to
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYEK. 23 
 
 criticise either in the history or life 
 of Mrs. Varney, yet they indulged 
 in a sort of aggrieved feeling over 
 her evident superiority, and eyed 
 her a little askance, for no one could 
 quite fathom her religious opin- 
 ions. 
 
 When she could leave Allan with 
 an old-time and trusty servant, she 
 took her place in the Congrega- 
 tional church where she had a 
 pew, and the family of the clergy- 
 man were her warmest friends. 
 Through Doctor Sawyer, Flora 
 Bates had, from the first profes- 
 sional services of the former, be- 
 come interested in Allan Varney, 
 and often spent an hour with him. 
 Her healthy, buoyant nature gave 
 out some of its strong magnetism 
 to him, while to her he confided 
 his day-dreams, and to her looked 
 for added sympathy, in the long 
 days of pain. Poor lad ! with a 
 brain abnormally active, he was 
 gifted with a subtle power which 
 brought unseen forces to help him 
 battle with the acute suffering that 
 his incurable disease inflicted. Few 
 could understand or appreciate 
 these conditions. Doctor Sawyer 
 believed it all to be real to the boy, 
 for a practical investigation had 
 satisfied the Doctor that hidden
 
 24 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 truths were brought to light by 
 research in manifold ways. His 
 sympathy was very precious to 
 Allan, who called the kind Doctor's 
 visits "the bright spot in his shad- 
 ows." 
 
 ''Good-morning, you blessed 
 Doctor, what good spirit sent you 
 to me ? I told Jamie all the morn- 
 ing that I wanted to see you." 
 
 Mrs. Varney smiled when she 
 greeted the Doctor, and pushed 
 an easy-chair up to Allan's couch, 
 which was placed in the bright sun- 
 light. 
 
 "Here I am, then, on hand, my 
 boy I wanted to see you as well. 
 What is the word for me ? " 
 
 ' ' Oh, Doctor, I have suffered hor- 
 ribly for two days in mind and 
 body, for I have given way to im- 
 patience and ingratitude. Poor 
 mother bears my complaining with 
 a good grace, but I know I hurt 
 her awfully at times, I have list- 
 ened to Jamie, who came to me 
 this morning my wicked rebellious 
 spirit kept him away yesterday 
 and I have promised him to be more 
 patient and resigned ; but, oh, it is 
 so hard, so hard to lie here help- 
 less, racked eternally with pain ! I 
 want to get out and see the fields, 
 and hear the brook murmur : but
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYEK. 25 
 
 only to be able to sit up, would 
 satisfy me." 
 
 The boy's face wore a look of un- 
 utterable sadness, while his moth- 
 er's eyes were filled with tears 
 of infinite pity for her suffering 
 boy. 
 
 Doctor Sawyer took the hand of 
 the lad in his strong one and talked 
 to him of other lives ; of sorrows 
 oft-times intensified by blighting 
 sin and remorse, touching upon 
 the other life, for which this is but a 
 stepping-stone of the compensa- 
 tions to be expected, if the lessons 
 here are well learned, in that 
 "Home where many mansions 
 be." 
 
 The boy broke in. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor, how I wish that 
 you and mother could see Jamie, 
 and hear him talk as / hear him. 
 When I am suffering the most he 
 comes, and stands here as plainly 
 to me as you do, and tells me of 
 our Home over there only he 
 brings it near, for he comes straight 
 from it to talk to me. He says he 
 is permitted to do this out of sym- 
 pathy. " 
 
 " I believe you, Allen ; to you this 
 power is given, to both feel and see 
 your friend who is invisible to more 
 material eyes, and his presence is
 
 26 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 real to you. I cannot doubt it. Our 
 eyes are blind to a spiritual sense 
 which suffering has brought to you. 
 Enjoy it as a gift from heaven, my 
 dear boy.'' 
 
 " Flora was in here a little while 
 ago, and brought me these lovely 
 flowers," and the lad pointed to a 
 large bunch of trailing arbutus, 
 which perfumed the room with their 
 delicious odor. "She believes in 
 Jamie, too, and he tells me not to 
 heed what others say, and that I 
 should pity the blind." 
 
 The lad smiled as he recalled a 
 conversation he had overheard a 
 day or two before from callers upon 
 his mother, while they were waiting 
 for her in another room. 
 
 The name of Flora brought to 
 Doctor Sawyer's mind the errand he 
 had just finished, and he began to 
 relate the new experience he had 
 undertaken. 
 
 The good Doctor hardly relished 
 the responsibility his old friend had 
 put upon him. When he mentioned 
 the name of Lindsey, a shade of 
 something painful passed over Mrs. 
 Varney's face. 
 
 "What is the first name of the 
 invalid girl?" she inquired. 
 
 " Helen, I think, but I will look 
 and see ; " and the Doctor referred
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 2 7 
 
 to the letter which was in his 
 pocket, and by doing this afforded 
 time to Mrs. Varney to recover her- 
 self.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FOR over a quar- 
 ter of a century the 
 Reverend Oliver 
 Emerson had pre- 
 / sided over the 
 
 Congregational Church 
 at Harrow. He was thoroughly 
 identified with the growth and 
 interest of the town, for had he 
 not united in marriage, baptized, 
 and preached the funeral sermons 
 of a goodly portion of its people? 
 He was a student still, and an 
 earnest thinker, and, while he was a 
 devout believer in his theology, he 
 had too much innate charity to re- 
 tain the aggressive stand of his 
 earlier years. The scope of his 
 mental vision had broadened by 
 
 28
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 29 
 
 looking out upon life with glasses 
 not rimmed with the metal of egot- 
 ism. 
 
 Between Doctor Sawyer and the 
 genial pastor, a strong friendship 
 existed. An undercurrent of sym- 
 pathy on general points modified 
 the clash on doctrinal grounds. Mr. 
 Emerson recognized the noble and 
 unselfish attributes of soul in his 
 friend, and, while urging the impor- 
 tance of an open expression of relig- 
 ion, granted the possibility of sal- 
 vation through ' ' good works. " 
 
 Frequently he accompanied the 
 physician on a drive to see a distant 
 patient, more often a "labor of love " 
 than of profit to the Doctor, who 
 was glad to give his patient the con- 
 solation of advice and prayer from 
 their pastor. 
 
 On one of these rides, when Allan 
 Varney and his affliction had been 
 the subject of conversation, the 
 Doctor alluded to his peculiar gift 
 of a psychical power, and, to his 
 great surprise, found his listener in- 
 terested, even charitable, concerning 
 it as he said : 
 
 ' ' To deny that an occasional mind 
 is endowed with a clairvoyant power 
 would be unwise in the face of 
 facts. " 
 
 The Doctor's face wore an amused
 
 30 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 smile at the last words, while Mr. 
 Emerson went on. 
 
 " I must hold, notwithstanding, 
 to the insecurity in a belief of this 
 nature, or that it would be of any 
 benefit to the world. Are we not 
 warned in the Bible, against false 
 prophets and forbidden to look into 
 hidden things ? " 
 
 The Doctor gently flicked his 
 mare, who turned her head as if 
 to question her master's intention, 
 while the Doctor was apparently 
 mentally digesting his companion's 
 words. 
 
 " Yet Moses walked with God, and 
 Elijah held familiar intercourse with 
 spirits of a higher sphere ; later, Paul 
 spoke with the authority given him 
 by spiritual manifestation, and his 
 prophecies have been accepted by 
 all Christian teachers, while many 
 of his words are mystical and admit 
 of conflicting constructions. Had 
 Swedenborg lived in that time his 
 visions would have been considered 
 in a like manner, a power given 
 of God, I doubt not." 
 
 The Doctor straightened himself 
 up, and continued slowly 
 
 " Dominie, what interpretation do 
 you put upon Paul's words in one of 
 his epistles to the Corinthians, the 
 second I think (condensed a little).
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 3 1 
 
 ' I know a certain man, whether 
 in the body, or outside the body, I 
 know not ! God knoweth, who 
 was rapt into Paradise, and heard 
 things ineffable which it is not law- 
 ful for a man to repeat. 
 
 Mr. Emerson reflected a minute 
 before replying. 
 
 " I have pondered over those very 
 words, Doctor. Other men have 
 found ready interpretations, when 
 handling them as a text, but I have 
 been satisfied to accept them as an 
 illumination of soul, which Paul had 
 experienced through prayer and 
 fasting, with no relation to what 
 you call a mystical sense. 
 
 "Paul spoke in metaphor, as well 
 as in a certain degree of parable, 
 which our Lord used in speaking to 
 the masses, you know." 
 
 The Doctor looked hard at his 
 friend. 
 
 ' ' Yes : and when Christ was ques- 
 tioned 'Wherefore?' He made 
 answer, 
 
 "'Because they seeing, see not; 
 hearing, hear not, neither do they 
 understand ! ' ' 
 
 Xo reply was made, and the Doctor 
 changed the conversation to Allan's 
 relation with clairvoyance. 
 
 "I have had no little personal 
 experience with evidences of this
 
 3 2 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 nature, and a spark of something 
 within me kindles against the judg- 
 ment of the boy's neighbors, who 
 pronounce him daft, even harder 
 names, in accordance with their 
 ignorance of the conditions about 
 him, or the virility of their own 
 natures. It is hard, I admit, for 
 people to accept the theory of the 
 Supernormal, or Spirit control : but 
 I protest against the verdict that 
 there is not, can not be such a 
 power, and I believe the time will 
 come, when to doubt it, will be to 
 impeach man's intelligence. 
 
 " I hold, Emerson, that our rela- 
 tion spiritually with the other world, 
 is not a whit more unexplainable to 
 the reasoning mind, than our ma- 
 terial connection with the natural 
 world. The whole of Creation is a 
 mystery. No power of man could 
 change an atom of its plan, and I 
 believe the spiritual life, or the exist- 
 ence after death, to be as material in 
 its way as is the physical in this life, 
 with the same power to think and 
 feel, only intensified and enlarged 
 beyond mortal conception. Men are 
 willing to accept mere theories on 
 scientific subjects, and they manage 
 to make the same theories very pli- 
 able. It is so much easier to dis- 
 miss a matter with ridicule than to
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 33 
 
 investigate it. Spiritualism would 
 not seem absurd if only the crude 
 thought of the supernatural could 
 be merged into the possibilities of 
 natural law and cognizance. What 
 is the influence recognized and 
 obeyed by all the brute creation, 
 even the lowest order, or that power 
 which sways the multitude and 
 controls the fury of a mob compris- 
 ing every opposing element human 
 nature can put forth ? We call it 
 intelligence, or will-power, but the 
 most ignorant man may possess it, 
 or the simplest child the same con- 
 dition of will necessary to control 
 the brute. Surely there must be 
 another power behind these." 
 
 " I admit that you can find much 
 substantial ground to argue upon, 
 Doctor. We, however, differ in this ; 
 you desire the supremacy of man's 
 reason to help determine the vital 
 question of immortality, while I 
 think we should trust the Bible as a 
 guide, and not place our weak wills 
 against Divine teaching and au- 
 thority. " 
 
 ' ' Of what importance, then, are our 
 reasoning faculties ? Why were 
 they given to man ? But here we 
 are ! Whoa, Kitty, stand still. Will 
 you come in, or stay here, Emer- 
 son ?"
 
 34 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 " I will walk over the hill yonder. 
 Whistle for me when you are ready 
 to start. " 
 
 Both men were in a silent mood 
 on the ride home, and stopping at 
 the post-office Doctor Sawyer found 
 a letter from his nephew and adop- 
 ted son, dated, "Paris, March 28, " 
 informing his uncle that the writer 
 was homeward bound. 
 
 " A run over to England, Uncle 
 John, thence to Scotland for a 
 glimpse of Stirling Castle and the 
 Lakes, then the Anchor Line home. 
 
 " By the middle of May look for me 
 to report myself ready for service. 
 Were I to accept the extension of 
 your liberality, and travel more ex- 
 tendedly, it would savor of infringe- 
 ment upon your kindness. I have 
 put in my time well, in the hospital 
 work I came here for, and am now 
 ready to buckle down and show 
 what there is in me. " 
 
 Dr. Sawyer's kindly face beam- 
 ing with the pleasure the manly tone 
 of the letter afforded him, was an 
 index to the affection he lavished 
 upon Clarence. 
 
 " Practical fellow that, no need to 
 coach him ; he sees his place and 
 drives straight ahead. Well, I am 
 getting on, and a trifle weary, for I 
 have worked hard. If the boy will
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 35 
 
 stay with me, he shall have the half 
 of my practice, but if his eyes turn 
 
 cityward " The Doctor sighed 
 
 deeply. "I won't cross the bridge, 
 until I get to it at all events. " 
 
 "The boy, " as he still seemed to his 
 uncle, was a stalwart man of twenty- 
 seven years of age New-England 
 born and bred, a sturdy, upright 
 scion of Puritan stock. His father 
 had been an unconscious rival of 
 John Sawyer's, who, when he saw 
 the preference given to the more 
 attractive younger brother, had 
 freely withdrawn from the lists, and 
 made no sign. A few years later, 
 when Clarence was left an orphan, 
 he was adopted by his uncle, and 
 proved himself worthy of the affec- 
 tion which had encircled his young 
 life. 
 
 The same mail which brought the 
 Doctor's letter contained one for 
 Elias Bates from Mr. Lindsey, ap- 
 pointing a day near at hand for a 
 visit to the farmhouse to make the 
 final arrangements for board. 
 
 " You know, Ma," the farmer had 
 said when the matter was referred 
 to him, " that your bread and cake 
 always took the prize at the county 
 fair. Our fresh eggs and chickens 
 can't be beat nohow, and we'll 
 kill off a lot of young turkeys along
 
 36 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 in the summer. I'll plant more 
 garden sass, so that fresh meat will 
 be about the only thing to buy ; 
 and we can make a good thing out 
 of it, I guess, Ma." 
 
 To Flora Bates a new world 
 seemed opening, as she speculated 
 upon the people who would come 
 fresh from that charmed place, New 
 York, and she entered into the 
 necessary preparations, with a gusto 
 that brought from her mother the 
 exclamation : 
 
 "Well, I never did see the beat 
 of that girl ! She can work with a 
 will when anything new is on 
 hand." 
 
 The country was delightful in its 
 garb of new verdure, and the air 
 redolent with the odor of violet and 
 trailing arbutus. There is a pun- 
 gency in the odor of freshness 
 which early spring brings, that tends 
 to awaken memory, and infuse hope 
 into the jaded life. Who has not 
 felt that a particular spring-time 
 held a keener promise of all that 
 enriches nature than any preceding 
 it ? Flora Bates looked out over her 
 little world with a keener appreci- 
 ation of all tender influences than 
 had ever entered her life before. 
 Even the birds sang sweeter to her 
 ear for the knowledge she had of
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 37 
 
 Clarence Sawyer's near return. 
 Never had nature looked so beautiful, 
 or held such intimations of perfection. 
 The busy robins, building their nests 
 seemed to say, "We, too, rejoice 
 with you." The apparent order and 
 thrift in the aspect of the house and 
 farm enlisted the appreciation of 
 Mr. Lindsey, and a decision in 
 favor of spending the summer there 
 was given at once. His wife was at 
 first repelled by the outspoken wom- 
 an who ruled the house, but with 
 the bright sunny-natured daughter 
 she was agreeably impressed. Flora's 
 unmistakable delight when the 
 question of sending a piano for his 
 daughter's use was settled, amused 
 even the pompous Wall Street man. 
 Mrs. Bates with motherly pride 
 hastened to put in a word of praise 
 for Flora, whom, she averred, " sang 
 better than any girl in our choir. 
 She sets a store by music, Flory 
 does. " 
 
 The remark brought a pained 
 flush to her daughter's face ; her 
 mother's lack of polish was often a 
 perfect torture to Flora. It was 
 decided that the horses should be 
 kept at the livery stable in the vil- 
 lage and Mr. Bates was authorized 
 to find the coachman a boarding- 
 place near the homestead. When
 
 38 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 the guests departed, the last words 
 of Mrs. Lindsey, that a number of 
 things would be sent, including 
 easy-chairs and hammocks before 
 the family came, exercised Mrs. 
 Bates's mind a little. 
 
 "For the land's sakes, what do 
 they want more chairs for ? Ain't 
 our'n good enough ? They'll scratch 
 my new painted walls all up, like 
 as not." 
 
 On the whole, however, it was a 
 pleasant breaking of their monot- 
 onous routine for them all. Flora 
 met Doctor Sawyer one afternoon at 
 Mrs. Varney's and told him of the 
 expected arrival, and learned from 
 him that Clarence would be back 
 in a day or two. The color that 
 mounted to her face while the Doc- 
 tor was telling this was not unno- 
 ticed by him, and it fanned a hope 
 burning in his heart that his nephew 
 would love the girl whom he had 
 chosen for him since they had been 
 boy and girl together at the village 
 school. 
 
 The Doctor much desired to see 
 Clarence safely anchored in the sea 
 of matrimony early in life, and 
 thereby avoid the loneliness which 
 the fag end of his own life presented 
 to view, he told himself. 
 
 "Every one will be glad to wel-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 39 
 
 come Clarence home, I am sure," 
 Flora had made answer. ' ' I do 
 hope he will take his old place in the 
 choir. His voice has been missed 
 so much, and we have all de- 
 generated in his absence." 
 
 ' Most likely he will, for I have 
 noticed that he expresses his religion 
 more in the fervor he vents in 
 hymns than any other way, "laughed 
 the Doctor. 
 
 After Flora left, Allan was loud 
 in the praise of the girl who was 
 so kind and thoughtful for him. 
 
 ' ' You're right, my boy, you and 
 I agree about Flora Bates ; she has 
 not her equal in this town." 
 
 Noticing Mrs. Varney's abstracted 
 manner, the Doctor rose to leave, 
 telling Allan he would try and look 
 in upon him in a day or two again. 
 
 " Will you remain long enough 
 for me to relate one chapter of my 
 life's history, Doctor Sawyer ? " she 
 said. 
 
 "I little thought when, by a mere 
 accident, I settled upon this old 
 town for Allan and me to live out our 
 quiet lives, that I should ever come 
 in contact with my only remaining 
 relatives. George Lindsey is my 
 brother ; and the news that his 
 family is coming to this place has 
 naturally ruffled the even tenor of
 
 40 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 my way, and turned my thoughts 
 backward. " 
 
 " Indeed ! " was all the Doctor 
 could say. Mrs. Varney continued, 
 
 "We may never meet, however. 
 I was fond, very fond, of Helen when 
 she was a child, and to be separated 
 from her caused me sincere grief. 
 My mother was a widow, and my 
 home was with George after her 
 death. He entered into partner- 
 ship with a prosperous broker early 
 in life. Proud and ambitious, my 
 brother possessed an iron will which 
 carried all before him. You can 
 readily perceive how prosperity 
 could harden a nature to whom self- 
 advancement was paramount to all 
 else. Its very conditions lend a 
 force to quell all tenderer obligations. 
 
 ' ' When I met Allan's father " 
 here the mother placed her hand lov- 
 ingly upon the boy's head "you 
 have heard the story before, dear he 
 was a poor artist struggling to make 
 his name. My son has his father's face 
 and artistic temperament. Gifted 
 in every way, fate had only in store 
 for him disappointment and trouble. 
 I would not listen to my brother, 
 who told me that the day I became 
 'Allan Varney 's wife would sever our 
 relations forever, and that I would 
 receive only a brother's curse for a
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 4I 
 
 wedding gift' that day came I 
 have never looked upon George 
 Lindsey's face since. His weak 
 little wife proved a sister in name 
 only. Her husband's command 
 never to see me or speak my name, 
 was literally a law unto her but it 
 was as well. I went abroad with 
 my husband and our little Allan was 
 born in Zurich. After our return, we 
 found a pleasant home in the sub- 
 urbs of New York city. My in- 
 heritance from my mother supplied 
 what my husband's art could not 
 produce to satisfy our needs, and 
 we were too happy to feel aught but 
 pity for my rich brother, whose very 
 soul was absorbed in stocks and 
 bonds. 
 
 " A few years ago, my dear hus- 
 band was taken from me suddenly 
 from a heart affection and well I 
 lived through it, because my boy 
 needed me. I wrote to George at 
 that time but no answer was vouch- 
 safed to me in my sorrow, and Allan 
 and I drifted to this pleasant town 
 to make a home." Mrs. Varney 
 wiped her eyes. " Here we are 
 going to stay, the coming of the 
 Lindseys to Harrow, need not dis- 
 turb us, for it will be as that of 
 strangers. I am sorry to learn of 
 Helen's delicate health. She was a
 
 42 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 robust child, with a strong tinge v of 
 her father's will." 
 
 " Shall I never see my cousins ?" 
 Allan inquired. 
 
 "Probably not; dear, we must 
 hold our own, out of respect to 
 your father's memory, you know." 
 
 Doctor Sawyer left the house, 
 reflecting upon the tangled web of 
 human lives, and of the discords 
 that are struck in human destinies 
 through selfishness and pride. An- 
 other illustration of his theory that all 
 lives cross each other with inhar- 
 monious elements to mar a perfect 
 whole, and an influence goes out 
 from each individual, like the ripple 
 caused by a drop of water on the 
 smooth surface of a pond reaching 
 to the very shore. 
 
 At the gate he met Martha Jones, 
 an elderly spinster, whose mission 
 in life was to keep her neighbors in 
 order. From her own sheltered 
 ledge, too narrow to admit of look- 
 ing about her, she prejudged those 
 who stood out on a plateau in a 
 broad light. 
 
 " My ! Docter Sawyer, what long 
 calls you do make on that half- 
 crazy boy over there. I saw your 
 horse hitched so long before the 
 gate, that I was just running in to 
 see what was the matter."
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 4 3 
 
 "Very kind of you, Miss Jones. 
 What would we do in this world 
 without the caretakers," and the 
 doctor drove off, laughing, leaving 
 an indefinite impression upon this 
 particular caretaker of her neighbor, 
 rather uncertain in her own mind, 
 as to the genuineness of his appre- 
 ciation.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON her way 
 home, Flora's 
 thoughts were 
 upon Clarence Sawyer. 
 She had not told his uncle 
 that a letter to her had 
 conveyed the news of his return. 
 
 Very dear to the girl were the few 
 letters he had written to her while 
 abroad. Over and over she had 
 read them, trying to find a tenderer 
 sentiment than friendship between 
 the lines in vain. His sympathy 
 responsive in expression to her own, 
 for the beautiful and the highest in 
 life, was the deepest feeling she could 
 find. Would he have changed ? 
 Would he have become more criti- 
 cal now that his vision would be- 
 44
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 45 
 
 no longer bounded by his native 
 hills? 
 
 Flora went straight to her room 
 and surveyed herself in her mirror, 
 then turned from its reflection with 
 a sigh. An innate taste in dress 
 restrained Flora Bates from those 
 incongruities in prevailing fashions, 
 which so often mark and mar the 
 country-bred young woman. She 
 had a distinctive style of her own, 
 and her deft ringers made her simple 
 gowns fitting and becoming. 
 
 One of the first calls that Clarence 
 Sawyer made after his return, was 
 at the farm-house, where he had 
 always been a most welcome guest. 
 Mrs. Bates softened under his in- 
 fluence, and in their childhood the 
 boy could always obtain privileges 
 for Flora, that would have been 
 denied her, however eagerly she 
 might plead. Many a coasting 
 party had she enjoyed through his 
 intercession with her mother. A 
 ring-leader in all the daring mis- 
 chief that the mind of the small boy 
 can encompass, his readiness to 
 assume his share of censure always 
 softened the penalty his pranks 
 invoked. Since his first interview 
 with Allan Varney, that lad had. 
 conceived the wildest infatuation 
 for Doctor Clarence. After the lat-
 
 46 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 ter's return home, he often entered 
 the sick-room and wrapped him in 
 a shawl and carried him out into 
 the sunlight, where he would walk 
 with him in his arms, with wonder- 
 ful patience, until the sick boy's face 
 would flush with the exercise and 
 fresh air, while his eyes were receiv- 
 ing pictures for memory to recall of 
 the beauty of distant mountain and 
 valley, causing the days of pain to 
 pass more quickly for this break in 
 their monotony. 
 
 "Wait, my boy, until summer sets 
 in. I will rig you a hammock that I 
 brought from New York, out under 
 our big oak tree, which will make 
 our neighbors wild with envy." 
 
 Doctor Clarence had studied this 
 particular type of disease while in 
 hospital service, and knew that only 
 a little time, at best, could remain to 
 his young friend, and that the time 
 must perforce be full of acute suf- 
 fering, and his compassionate heart 
 was touched to the core. Many 
 of his leisure hours were spent with 
 Allan, telling him of the Old World, 
 of history and art, for the boy had 
 a well-stored mind, and an intelli- 
 gent comprehension. Mrs. Varney 
 would steal away at such times 
 with tears in her eyes, grateful for 
 the law of compensation, which
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 47 
 
 if rightly looked for, is brought into 
 every life. 
 
 May, with sunshine and shower, 
 quickly passed, and with June came 
 the city people to the farm-house. 
 The astonishment of its mistress, 
 when she surveyed all the appurte- 
 nances, seemingly necessary for the 
 comfort of her guests, partook of 
 the ludicrous. The most irritating 
 quality, however, was the stylish- 
 looking maid, whom the Lindseys 
 addressed as " Gibbs. " 
 
 ' ' An outlandish name for a woman 
 to have," she told Huldah, who re- 
 sponded : 
 
 "What better could you expect 
 from them Catholics ? " when she 
 had learned of Gibbs's persuasion. 
 The latter, however knew her place, 
 and very little friction occurred. 
 
 When Flora met the delicate look- 
 ing, but strikingly beautiful girl, 
 with her high-bred manner, she felt 
 as though she could almost wor- 
 ship such perfection. Languid and 
 indifferent to her surroundings, 
 Helen Lindsey's eyes lighted up 
 when she saw the view from her 
 chamber window. The spacious 
 room was fragrant with a profusion 
 of early blossoms which Flora had 
 placed in it. 
 
 "Oh, how lovely ! I can be very
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 comfortable here and already feel 
 contented," she exclaimed to her 
 mother in Flora's hearing. 
 
 Her little brother Stewart was off 
 rushing over the place, attempting 
 to make friends with old Hector, a 
 bull-dog whose fierce appearance 
 in no way daunted the fearless boy. 
 
 " You mustn't chase the chickens, 
 little boy," called Huldah from the 
 kitchen door, but Mrs. Bates said 
 sharply, 
 
 " Here, let the child alone. He's 
 been cramped up in the city, and 
 has got to let himself loose, I 
 s'pose. " 
 
 When supper was in readiness, 
 Mrs. Bates rang a large bell in the 
 hall, "front entry" she called it, 
 that set Mrs. Lindsey's nerves on 
 edge, and caused her to glance at 
 her daughter, who only laughed and 
 said, " / rather like the sound ; it is 
 in keeping with the surroundings. " 
 
 A substantial and tempting sup- 
 per was amply appreciated, and 
 Mrs. Bates betook herself to the 
 kitchen in a complacent mood. 
 After the meal was over, Helen 
 asked Flora to join her on the 
 piazza, and kindly point out the 
 landmarks of the mountain range. 
 The city girl, reared under all the 
 refining influences which wealth
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 49 
 
 could command, recognized the in- 
 born dignity and grace of the other, 
 and a friendship began at once. 
 The next morning, when Helen en- 
 tered the room for her late breakfast, 
 Flora almost held her breath at the 
 vision of perfect loveliness. The 
 richest and daintiest of morning 
 toilets in white, whose exquisite 
 finish of detail attracted Flora's ap- 
 preciative eye, appealed to her artis- 
 tic sense as a fitting setting for this 
 peerless gem of womanhood, while 
 in herself she formed an unconscious 
 foil to the other's beauty, in her per- 
 sonification of health. 
 
 The comments of Mrs. Bates in 
 the kitchen to her factotum, Huldah, 
 over the "sight of work," which 
 her practical eye comprehended 
 when laundry service would be re- 
 quired, were in keeping with her 
 entire ignorance of the value of such 
 a creation of lawn and lace, and 
 when, by questioning after longer 
 acquaintance, she learned the price 
 demanded by French cleaners to do 
 it over, the good woman was act- 
 ually speechless in the face of such 
 extravagance. Her hands were 
 often raised involuntarily as her 
 knowledge of values was educated 
 throughout that summer. The piano 
 arrived, and Flora could scarcely 
 4
 
 50 DR. JOHN SA IVYER. 
 
 ever resist the desire to stop and 
 pass her hands caressingly over the 
 instrument when going through the 
 parlor. To the girl it seemed almost 
 human, because of her intense fond- 
 ness for music. The lawn chairs, 
 with rockers for the piazza and a 
 rattan couch transformed the front 
 of the old place into an enticing 
 invitation to luxurious rest and 
 ease. 
 
 Helen rebeled at Flora's waiting 
 upon them at table, and the well- 
 trained Gibbs was pressed into this 
 service. The two girls enjoyed 
 their meals together, and the invalid 
 began to relish the plain but tempt- 
 ing food, which, combined with the 
 regularity of her daily routine, soon 
 indicated a visible change for the 
 better. 
 
 Dr. Sawyer called to see the 
 Lindseys the week following their 
 arrival at Harrow, with a letter of 
 introduction from their family phy- 
 sician. 
 
 "This is not professional, al- 
 though my old friend Palmer has 
 placed you in my care," he told 
 Helen, while shaking hands with 
 her. 
 
 "Give the health-giving air of 
 these hills a fair chance," he said 
 later, to Mrs. Lindsey, who was
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 5 j 
 
 minute in detail concerning the loss 
 of flesh and strength of her daughter. 
 "The fact that she sleeps even a 
 trifle better is an evidence of the 
 benefit you may expect from this 
 radical change in living." 
 
 He had found the object of such 
 solicitous care, wrapped in a travel- 
 ing rug, for the morning was breezy, 
 on the piazza couch, with large fluffy 
 pillows everywhere about her. 
 While conversing on different sub- 
 jects, he was studying her face. 
 To his keen intuition she appeared 
 surfeited with luxury. Society with 
 its artificial basis had proven ' ' Dead 
 sea apples," and he said to himself, 
 " An undercurrent of cross-purposes 
 somewhere." 
 
 When the call had ended and the 
 Doctor bade them a courteous good- 
 morning he sought Flora indoors, 
 to talk a little about his nephew 
 who would remain a while in Har- 
 row to practice, he told her. ' ' There 
 is need of another physician here, 
 and I hope to persuade Clarence to 
 take the place but I can't tell if he 
 will consent to it." 
 
 The girl's face looked bright and 
 happy, for her mind was full of pleas- 
 urable anticipations. To her great 
 delight Clarence had resumed his 
 old place in the choir. His voice
 
 52 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 was richer in its clear baritone 
 notes for the training it had re- 
 ceived in Europe, and it thrilled 
 Flora to the finest fiber of her nature, 
 as she listened once again to its 
 charm. After the Sunday evening 
 service he repeated his former cus- 
 tom of walking home with her and 
 her father. It was a beautiful moon- 
 light night, and the freshness and 
 sweetness of nature was vivid to 
 the young people who absorbed its 
 influence. The shadows under the 
 old trees formed graceful and be- 
 witching pictures, and these two 
 hearts throbbing with youthful 
 hopes were attuned in sympathy. 
 Had it not been for the restraining 
 element of Mr. Bates's substantial 
 presence, Clarence might have 
 yielded to a sudden impulse and 
 uttered words he would have re- 
 gretted. He refused the invitation 
 to enter, and on his homeward walk 
 reflected upon the impulse which 
 had seemed so powerful. 
 
 "I am fond of Flora. Who could 
 help admiring her? but do I love 
 her as I feel I am capable of loving ? 
 I am afraid it is too Platonic, and is 
 only a semblance of the grande 
 passion after all. I must be cer- 
 tain of my feelings before I involve 
 both lives in a helpless entan-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 53 
 
 glement." Clarence shrugged his 
 shoulders and added: " I have no 
 reason to think she would have me 
 anyway." 
 
 His uncle's wishes were too pal- 
 pable to be misunderstood, and 
 while he would have liked to shape 
 his future in sympathy with the 
 plans of his second father, Clar- 
 ence Sawyer was too strong a man 
 to yield one iota of his individuality. 
 The following Sunday Mrs. Lind- 
 sey and her daughter drove to the 
 church and occupied a portion of 
 the Bates's pew. Attention was 
 equally divided between the city 
 folks and Doctor Clarence in the 
 gallery. All Harrow was astir with 
 such unusual excitement ; it promis- 
 ed the gossips a theme for comment 
 for the time intervening between 
 another Sunday. The young Doc- 
 tor was to sing a solo, and when he 
 began it, Helen Lindsey was filled 
 with surprise. Although she had 
 heard of the expected treat in store, 
 she had not anticipated listening to 
 such a finished voice as this. In- 
 voluntarily she raised her eyes, to 
 meet those of the owner of the 
 marvelous voice. As the magnet 
 attracts steel, so her looks were 
 followed by Clarence's gaze. The 
 voice and the eyes were like a 

 
 54 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 draught of elixir to Helen and 
 aroused intense interest. She listened 
 in each hymn for that voice with its 
 full, deep tones. Going out to the 
 carriage, Helen met the young Doc- 
 tor face to face ; again the magnet- 
 ism of his eyes attracted her, and 
 her mind was impressed with the 
 stirring personality of the man. On 
 the ride home, Flora, who had been 
 invited to join the Lindseys, talked 
 freely of her old friend. Helen lis- 
 tened quietly and learned all she 
 desired to know in regard to the 
 young man without inquiry on her 
 part. The same evening, after the 
 walk from the second service, which 
 Mr. Bates and his daughter rarely 
 missed, Flora asked Doctor Clarence 
 to go in and sing some simple things 
 she could play for him. Already she 
 had received instruction from Helen, 
 who enjoyed the enthusiasm of this 
 devotee to music, and Flora had a 
 natural gift and played by ear with 
 marvelous exactness as well. One 
 song after another Clarence joined 
 in singing, then, complying with a 
 request, began to his own accom- 
 paniment, a portion of a grand "Ave 
 Maria.' 7 Once at the piano he was 
 absorbed, all unconscious of a lis- 
 tener who sat in her room with open 
 door, drinking in the melody with
 
 DR. JOHN SAWYER. 55 
 
 intense eagerness, while at the same 
 time his dark eyes seemed before 
 her, as they looked when she raised 
 her own to meet them that morn- 
 ing at the church door. 
 
 Clarence had heard of the coming 
 of the Lindseys, but was wholly 
 unprepared for the vision of beauty 
 that had flashed upon him, and 
 which he could not banish from his 
 mind. 
 
 No mention had been made in 
 the presence of Mrs. Lindsey or 
 her daughter, of Allan Varney ; but 
 early the following evening, which 
 was too rainy for Stewart to be out 
 of doors in his hammock, Flora en- 
 deavored to entertain the restless 
 child in the parlor, by telling him of 
 her patient young friend whose days 
 were filled with suffering and depri- 
 vation. 
 
 Helen, who was reading under the 
 light of a brilliant Rochester, which 
 had been brought from their home, 
 caught the name of Allan Varney, 
 and at once asked about his mother. 
 Flora warmly praised the lovely 
 woman she admired, and when, a 
 little later, Helen went up to her 
 room, she sought her mother to 
 convey the news of her Aunt Lucy's 
 home in Harrow. 
 
 Mrs. Lindsey was almost speech-
 
 56 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 less with astonishment, but from 
 long custom shrank at the very first 
 thought of her husband's learning 
 of the near presence of his sister. 
 
 "You poor little mother! One 
 would surely think my father was 
 an ogre. Right is right so do not 
 worry, dear. I have always re- 
 gretted that we had no trace of 
 Aunt Lucy. I remember her cry- 
 ing over me as she held me in her 
 arms the day she left our home. I 
 loved her dearly, and it has been a 
 cruel shame to drift so far apart. 
 Now it seems as if Providence had 
 sent me to her, and I am going to 
 try to make amends for seeming to 
 forget her. Here alone with that 
 afflicted son whose lot is so pitiful, 
 how sad her life must be ! I am 
 more than glad that I may have it 
 in my power to brighten it a little." 
 The girl's face was aglow with ten- 
 der feeling. " Mother, I am regain- 
 ing health, and long to be of use to 
 some one, only I am so indolent in 
 finding a way. Oh, you don't know 
 how keenly I feel at times the self- 
 ishness of my life ; never before 
 have I reflected upon it as I am do- 
 ing now, up here among the hills 
 where I have time to think and 
 feel." 
 
 "Yes, darling, but do wait until
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 5 7 
 
 your father comes up, and ask his 
 consent, or write for it, before you 
 visit your Aunt Lucy. You don't 
 know, dear, what he is like when he 
 is crossed." Mrs. Lindsey shud- 
 dered. 
 
 "Nonsense! You are too cow- 
 ardly, mother mine. I shall go first, 
 and tell him of it afterwards. Depend 
 upon me to smooth matters. Why, 
 what has Aunt Lucy done ? Simply 
 married the man she loved, who 
 was her equal and more for he 
 had genius the only attribute to 
 which / bow. Money cannot buy 
 that. Had she committed an un- 
 pardonable sin her banishment 
 could not have been more cruel. 
 But cheer up, mother dear, we will 
 dream over it to-night." 
 
 Helen kissed her mother and went 
 to her own room. After her maid 
 left her, she could not sleep. The 
 remembrance of her father's merci- 
 less character when his will was 
 thwarted, lingered in her mind. 
 Affectionate and indulgent he could 
 be had been to the daughter of 
 whom he was fond and proud. Her 
 failing health had been the severest 
 blow he had ever felt, and his one 
 desire had been for her recovery. 
 He wanted her to live and further 
 his own ambitious schemes. To
 
 58 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 see Helen married to one of New 
 York's millionaires, whose attention 
 had been too marked, during the 
 previous season, to admit of but 
 one construction, was the dream of 
 his life. No matter how low the 
 debauchery of the man's nature had 
 taken him, his millions covered it 
 all. That his daughter could ever 
 care for a poor man had never 
 crossed her ambitious parent's 
 mind. 
 
 A suave, polished man of the 
 world was Mr. Lindsey. Tall, 
 with a vigorous frame, and light 
 blue eyes which scintillated with a 
 green sparkle when his temper was 
 aroused. His complexion was fair, 
 and a tawny mustache completely 
 hid the hard, cruel lines of his 
 mouth. A stranger would be favor- 
 ably impressed with his polished 
 bearing, and genial manner, unless 
 he was a poor man, in which case 
 the condescension springing from 
 conscious prosperity would be mani- 
 fest. 
 
 No member of his family had 
 crossed swords with him, excepting 
 the sister whom he had ruthlessly 
 thrust from his life and heart. 
 
 To his only child came the bitter 
 thought that a similar fate would 
 be her own, dared she oppose a
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 59 
 
 plan he might have framed for her 
 to consummate. She turned with 
 disgust and loathing from the recol- 
 lection of the man whom she knew 
 met with her father's exuberant en- 
 couragement. He was now in 
 Europe this man, to whom she 
 had been simply indifferent until 
 now, and she could not fathom her 
 sudden repugnance to him. 
 
 "Oh, I pray Mr. Gordon will for- 
 get me," she prayed in her inner- 
 most heart "I could not love him, 
 and I will not marry a man whom 
 I do not love with all my soul." 
 
 Meanwhile a pair of dark, glowing 
 eyes, full of a hidden capacity for 
 happiness, would come before her, 
 intermingled with her thoughts of 
 her father.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE next morn- 
 "-^zr ing Helen learned 
 the address of 
 Mrs. Varney, and 
 ordering the carriage for half-past 
 ten o'clock, drove alone toher house. 
 Mrs. Varney, who had seen her niece 
 in church, and recognized all the per- 
 fections in womanhood which the 
 child had promised, went to meet 
 Helen with trembling hands. 
 
 "Aunt Lucy ! Dear Aunt Lucy, 
 will you ever forgive me ? " Was all 
 Helen could find words to say. 
 The answer was a loving embrace, 
 during which each regained com- 
 posure. 
 
 " You were forgiven long ago 
 
 do not speak of it, Helen. I am 
 
 only too glad to have you know 
 
 my poor boy at last. " Mrs. Varney 
 
 60
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 6 1 
 
 drew Helen to the couch saying, 
 " Allan dear, here is your cousin." 
 
 " Your sister, rather," impetuously 
 exclaimed Helen, as she threw her- 
 self on her knees beside him, her 
 sympathies instantly aroused by 
 the picture of almost unearthly 
 beauty, saddened by suffering, 
 which she saw. " Let me be your 
 loving sister, dear. I want to make 
 amends for my past indifference 
 I never knew that you were Oh, I 
 did not know." Helen burst into 
 tears. Mrs. Varney put her arm 
 tenderly around the girl. 
 
 "You mean that you did not 
 know that Allan was so afflicted ? 
 Of course you did not, do not think 
 of it dear. Allan and I are resigned 
 to the inevitable. Now we want to 
 learn about yourself. Doctor Sawyer 
 told us of your coming to Harrow 
 for your health, and I informed him 
 of our relationship." 
 
 The morning went by quickly in 
 a review of the past fifteen years, 
 and Helen left her aunt, promising 
 to bring Flora the next day to sit 
 with Allan while she took her Aunt 
 Lucy for a drive. The girl found the 
 keenest satisfaction in the knowl- 
 edge that she could be of practical 
 use to her poor relatives. The same 
 afternoon she wrote to her father, in
 
 6 2 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 hpr usual concise manner, of the 
 meeting with his sister and her boy, 
 and to Mrs. Lindsey's great surprise, 
 the answer laid no injunction upon 
 his daughter's step, it only stated 
 that he "wished to be spared and 
 further allusion to his sister," end, 
 ing with "your Aunt Lucy chose 
 her path independent of me, and 
 she must walk therein to the end." 
 The utter heartlessness of this 
 avowal, making manifest the cold 
 nature of her father, sent terror to 
 his daughter's heart. She dearly 
 loved him, and never before had she 
 fully comprehended his cruel nature. 
 The summer wore on. Mr. Lind- 
 sey went up to visit his family dur- 
 ing the latter part of June. He was 
 pleased to find so visible a change 
 for the better in his daughter. No 
 allusion was made to the Varney 
 family. Mrs. Lindsey had refused 
 Helen's repeated entreaties to visit 
 her aunt, for fear of incurring her 
 husband's displeasure. When Doc- 
 tor Clarence made his Sunday even- 
 ing visit, at that time, Flora pro- 
 posed sitting out upon the piazza. 
 The air was very sultry, rendering 
 an evening out of doors delightful. 
 Through the open windows they 
 had a view of Helen sitting at the 
 piano playing for her father.
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 63 
 
 The bewitching snatches of opera, 
 and occasional song floated out to 
 them, and affected the man who sat 
 listening, strangely. Suddenly the 
 player plunged into a powerful ren- 
 dering of a portion of "Faust." 
 Clarence was thrilled. He felt the 
 depth of feeling her soul possessed, 
 thus to be able to indicate itself in 
 music. Helen ceased playing as sud- 
 denly as she had begun and he 
 heard her ask her father if he would 
 like to hear a rare voice. " If I am 
 not mistaken, I heard young Doc- 
 tor Sawyer's step upon the piazza 
 with Flora." Without waiting for 
 a reply she went out to ask the 
 young people to join her in singing. 
 Clarence hesitated a moment, as if 
 considering a refusal to go inside, 
 then followed the two girls into the 
 parlor, where he met a cordial recep- 
 tion from Mr. and Mrs. Lindsey. 
 
 Helen brought a pile of music, but 
 her father protested against any 
 more of the classical. 
 
 " Let us have some of the good 
 old-fashioned hymns, daughter, in 
 which we can all join." 
 
 Flora brought her books, and 
 Helen played the accompaniments 
 for her friend and Doctor Clarence, 
 meanwhile listening with her whole 
 soul to that masterful voice which had
 
 64 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 such a charm for her. Mr. Lind- 
 sey's critical ear was gratified, and 
 he was all graciousness, while Clar- 
 ence conceived the most violent an- 
 tipathy for the supercilious man of 
 wealth. Helen avoided meeting 
 the eye of the young physician ; she 
 could not but see Flora's evident at- 
 tachment, and she wished all hap- 
 piness to come to this new friend 
 who was becoming very dear, little 
 dreaming that of late an abstracted 
 air in Clarence, causing a suspicion 
 that an invisible chord of indiffer- 
 ence was growing between her and 
 her once devoted friend, had cast 
 its indefinable shadow over Flora. 
 
 "What an agreeable and cultured 
 young man," Mr. Lindsey re- 
 marked as soon as Doctor Clarence 
 had left the room. "And what a 
 fine couple those two will make," 
 nodding his head toward the front 
 door, where Flora was chatting a 
 few moments with Clarence, as he 
 stood hat in hand on the walk, pre- 
 paratory to departure. "An under- 
 standing between them already, I 
 fancy. Good thing! She is just the 
 girl to help a poor man on in life." 
 
 Mrs. Lindsey replied to her hus- 
 band's words in the usual character- 
 less echo of her liege lord, "Yes, 
 dear, I think so, too."
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 65 
 
 Helen was closing- the piano. A 
 shiver went over her as she listened 
 to these words, but she struggled 
 loyally to be glad for Flora's sake. 
 
 A few days after this, Helen found 
 the young Doctor sitting beside 
 Allan Varney, whom he had brought 
 out to the comfortable hammock 
 that he had swung under the 
 branches of the overhanging oak 
 tree, which, from its immense size, 
 gained the cottage with its little 
 lawn the name from Allan of " Lone 
 Oak." Pillows and air-cushions 
 were arranged to give every pos- 
 sible ease to the sufferer, whom the 
 unusual heat, even of July, had 
 prostrated. His face looked wan 
 and drawn with intense lines of 
 pain, depicting his suffering clearer 
 than she had ever seen it. His broad 
 white forehead with the wavy dark 
 hair thrown back, the black eyes, 
 whose brows were as delicately 
 penciled as if done with a brush, 
 his Grecian nose, cleft chin like 
 marble below the sweetly-formed 
 mouth, always appealed to Clarence 
 as a fit subject for the immortal 
 work of an artist. 
 
 Helen had not seen Allan for two 
 days on account of the intense heat, 
 5
 
 66 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 and was shocked at the change in 
 him. When she stooped to kiss him, 
 tears of sympathy filled her eyes. 
 
 "Please do not feel bad, Cousin 
 Helen, I am not really worse, only 
 this torrid heat affects me dreadfully. 
 Doctor Clarence has been fanning 
 me for a long time, and he has per- 
 suaded me that I must be braver, 
 mother is so ill to-day with a head- 
 ache. I am glad you have come, 
 Cousin Helen, will you stay awhile ? " 
 
 The boy's eyes looked anxiously 
 into hers. 
 
 "Indeed I should be glad to, dear." 
 
 Helen turned to the young man 
 who had arisen to his feet, and im- 
 pulsively gave him her hand, while 
 the color rushed into her face as 
 she said : 
 
 "You are very very kind to my 
 poor cousin ; with him I should like 
 to thank you, but words are so in- 
 significant " 
 
 Clarence interrupted her : 
 
 ' ' Pray do not attempt anything so 
 unnecessary ! Allan and I are great 
 friends. Uncle John prescribed for 
 Mrs. Varney early this morning, 
 and he suggested that I should 
 spend a few otherwise idle moments 
 here, in order to relieve her mind 
 concerning Allan. We understand 
 each other, do we not, my boy ? "
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 67 
 
 The boy answered by reaching 
 for the large but shapely hand rest- 
 ing on the edge of the hammock, 
 and carrying it tenderly to his lips. 
 
 "I can leave you in good care 
 now, and I will go." 
 
 Clarence bowed to Helen, and 
 was about to leave, when she asked 
 him to wait until she had dismissed 
 the carriage and had seen her Aunt 
 Lucy, whose anxiety was set en- 
 tirely at rest by her promise to stay 
 with Allan. Very gently Helen did 
 her utmost to divert his mind. His 
 paroxysms of pain at intervals tor- 
 tured her compassionate heart. 
 
 ' ' I cannot help groaning, cousin, " 
 the boy said, when he noticed the 
 distress in her face, as limp, and 
 weak, he looked up at her. "It is 
 so hot I cannot breathe without 
 pain. Jamie came and stood by 
 me early this morning, and told me 
 I would have a bad day. He asked 
 me if I was not willing to go home, 
 where I would have a new body 
 and never know pain again. He 
 tells me I can come back to earth 
 with my new spiritual body and 
 help mother bear her burdens by 
 impressing her thoughts. He was 
 drawn to me, cousin, by my lonely 
 life, and was appointed the mission 
 to comfort me in the manner he has
 
 68 -DA\ JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 done, but is it not strange, he can- 
 not reach me in such an atmosphere 
 as this ? I mean, I cannot see him, 
 although I feel his presence." 
 
 Helen smiled and answered : 
 
 "Of course, Allan dear, I know 
 that what you tell me is full of real- 
 ness to you, only we cannot under- 
 stand it. I would have laughed at 
 such an experience even a few short 
 weeks ago, yet, I believe you." 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Helen," the lad's 
 eyes grew luminous while his breath 
 came in short gasps, "what a 
 glorious world Jamie describes to 
 me. Our eyes of flesh cannot see 
 it, although it is as tangible as this. 
 Each one of us will have an ap- 
 pointed work to do there. I won't 
 be forced to be idle and helpless as 
 I have been in this poor life, and 
 then, better than all else, that 
 home is eternal and everlasting." 
 Another spasm of pain contorted his 
 face and he groaned aloud. 
 
 Helen iisked him if he wanted her 
 to sing for him. 
 
 " Yes, please. Doctor Clarence 
 sometimes helps to control my pain 
 with his singing." 
 
 His cousin began, in her low, but 
 sweet voice, the simple ballad she 
 knew he loved. The boy became 
 gradually more quiet, but she con-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 69 
 
 tinued singing, hoping he might 
 drop off to sleep her own thoughts 
 meanwhile active in retrospect. 
 
 From letters, she had learned of 
 the gay season her fashionable 
 friends were anticipating at New- 
 port and Bar Harbor. The con- 
 trast between this and all other sum- 
 mers impressed her forcibly. From 
 a correspondent in Europe, Helen 
 learned that Fred Gordon was in the 
 Mediterranean, with a gay party 
 on board his yacht, and would re- 
 turn by mid-winter, when, the writer 
 went on to state, "he tells his 
 intimate friends he intends to settle 
 down and become a respectable 
 member of society. It is very well 
 known what he means, so prepare 
 to crown your conquest, my dear 
 Helen." 
 
 The girl shuddered as she recalled 
 his outspoken admiration for her, 
 and her whole soul rose in oppo- 
 sition to the idea, when again her 
 father's pitiless face came before her 
 eyes as if to mock her dread. 
 
 The atmosphere increased in 
 sultriness, the heat of the past forty- 
 eight hours had culminated until the 
 air was stifling for want of motion. 
 Not a leaf stirred on the trees which
 
 7 o 
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 stood with hanging branches as if 
 thirsting for rain. Even the birds 
 had ceased their songs, and all in- 
 sect life was still, excepting an oc- 
 casional shrill whirr of the locusts 
 which seemed to sting the senses. 
 
 Not a sign of humanity was astir 
 upon the quiet streets, and Helen 
 felt a sense of weird loneliness as 
 she fanned the moaning lad. Ann 
 would come out on tiptoe and 
 whisper that she could not leave 
 Mrs. Varney except for a few 
 minutes at a time. 
 
 " The pain that's in her head is 
 just awful, Miss Helen. I never saw 
 her so bad. There is a thunder-storm 
 coming sure." The woman reiter- 
 ated this over and over. At one 
 o'clock she brought a light luncheon 
 out to Helen, who persuaded her 
 cousin to drink a cup of tea with 
 her.
 
 LARGE white 
 clouds had 
 been piling- up, 
 which grew heavy and dark as 
 the day wore on. Nature seemed 
 pulseless, waiting for relief. A low 
 distant rumbling like the far-off roar 
 of artillery aroused apprehensions in 
 Helen's mind. Flashes of heat-light- 
 ning began to tear in vivid streaks 
 the banks of black clouds, while 
 tremors like the whispering of 
 voices of the wind, stirred the still 
 air. 
 
 Helen wondered in curious con- 
 jecture how soon the storm would 
 reach them, for Allan refused Ann's 
 
 7 1
 
 7 2 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 repeated offers to be carried into the 
 house, and his cousin did not like to 
 insist upon it. His suffering had 
 made him, in a way, sacred to her. 
 She could not urge a thing that 
 seemed to annoy him. 
 
 " Not yet ! I want to watch those 
 grand clouds. See, Cousin Helen, 
 how the huge one over yonder is 
 settling down upon the crest of the 
 mountain. It looks as if it would 
 surely slip off and come rolling 
 down upon us." 
 
 The boy's excitement had ban- 
 ished all sense of pain, and his flash- 
 ing eyes with increasing color trans- 
 figured his face. 
 
 " Oh, how grand ! How majestic 
 nature is ! This is glorious ! " he 
 exclaimed. Ann, standing back of 
 his hammock, shook her head as she 
 watched the nervous movement of 
 his delicate hands. Too well she 
 knew how serious the reaction would 
 prove. Helen was nearly wild with 
 anxiety, for the tree stood a little 
 distance from the cottage, and she 
 realized the necessity of getting 
 Allan to his room before the rapidly 
 approaching storm should reach 
 them. Ann started as the bell from 
 Mrs. Varney's room rang sharply. 
 His mother is anxious, also, Helen 
 thought, and she was insisting upon
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 the lad's consent to her taking him 
 to the house, when a sudden gust 
 of wind swept by them. She 
 caught the side of the swaying 
 hammock to steady it, just as the 
 sound of a horse furiously ap- 
 proaching, attracted her attention. 
 In an instant more, Doctor Clarence 
 jumped from his buggy, shouting 
 to the man who had been driving 
 him, 
 
 "Get under shelter somewhere as 
 quickly as you can." He ran to- 
 ward the cottage just as the shower 
 of hailstones pelted down upon 
 them. Tearing off his coat he flung 
 it over Helen's shoulders. 
 
 " Run for the house," he said, and 
 catching Allan with his pillows he 
 threw a light shawl over his face and 
 strode rapidly across the lawn, de- 
 posited the boy upon his couch and 
 then proceeded to close the open 
 doors and windows. The storm 
 had burst suddenly in ominous 
 fury. 
 
 " I did not think it would come 
 so soon," said Helen, and she trem- 
 bled at the thought of the danger her 
 inexperience might have subjected 
 them to. 
 
 "Up here among the hills we 
 sometimes witness the power of 
 the Omnipotent, and realize the
 
 7 4 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 impotency of man," Clarence an- 
 swered. 
 
 Ann had lifted her mistress into a 
 large chair and was rolling it into 
 Allan's room, when a peal of thun- 
 der, reverberating from the mount- 
 ains shook the house, followed by 
 such piercing lightning, that Helen 
 buried her face in her hands. Doc- 
 tor Clarence promptly went to 
 Mrs. Varney's assistance and soon 
 had her by the side of her son, 
 when he administered a quieting 
 powder, for the electrical disturb- 
 ance was causing her intense dis- 
 tress. 
 
 ' ' Let me press your temples gently 
 so " Helen said, alarmed when 
 she saw her Aunt Lucy's face ; but 
 the storm increasing in violence 
 soon absorbed all other thoughts. 
 Doctor Clarence stood by a window, 
 watching its progress ! 
 
 " I have never seen its equal," 
 he said, while he almost held his 
 breath in suspense. Large trees 
 bent beneath the gale, while broken 
 boughs went sweeping in every 
 direction, as the gusts of wind met 
 from all quarters. The rain fell in 
 torrents, the lightning grew more 
 and more vivid with each succeed- 
 ing flash. 
 
 Allan was perfectly quiet, his
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 7 5 
 
 nerves strained to their uttermost 
 tension. 
 
 Ann crouched in terror at Mrs. 
 Varney's feet, muttering prayers 
 which would have seemed ludi- 
 crously like profanity at another 
 time. 
 
 A dazzling flash, accompanied by 
 a terrible peal of thunder, drew from 
 the inmates of the cottage an in- 
 voluntary cry, excepting the Doctor. 
 He recovered first from the shock 
 all had felt in a greater or less 
 degree. 
 
 " My God ! the lightning has 
 struck the oak ! " he exclaimed. 
 So it proved. A zigzag blackened 
 streak rent one half of the noble 
 tree from top to bottom. A flame 
 shot up which the violence of the 
 rain soon extinguished. 
 
 " Allan is dying ! " suddenly 
 shrieked Mrs. Varney, and startled 
 the horror-stricken group. 
 
 "No! only fainted from the 
 shock," instantly asserted the Doc- 
 tor, on his knees at the side of 
 the boy, with a face equally as white 
 as the one he watched. 
 
 Mrs. Varney sank back helpless, 
 but Helen was alert, following the 
 Doctor's rapid directions, while he 
 forced a little brandy between the 
 pale lips.
 
 76 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 After what seemed an intermi- 
 nable time, Allan was restored to 
 consciousness, only to lapse again 
 into a semi-comatose state. 
 
 Meanwhile the storm raged. Hill 
 after hill took up the echo, and 
 hurled the thunder back, as the 
 electric clouds discharged them- 
 selves overhead. Wide-spread were 
 the disasters caused by this long- 
 remembered storm. The "old- 
 est inhabitant" had never seen its 
 equal. At the Bates homestead, 
 consternation and alarm reigned 
 supreme, for Stewart could not be 
 found after the storm set in. His 
 mother thought he was with Mr. 
 Bates at the barn, who had not 
 seen the boy, for Stewart had 
 hastily eaten his midday meal, and 
 hearing the threatening storm dis- 
 cussed, he had vanished. Flora 
 mistrusted where he might be found, 
 but no search could be attempted 
 while the fury of the tornado raged. 
 Mr. Bates followed her direction as 
 soon as practicable, and hurried 
 to the place back of the barns, 
 sheltered somewhat by a hill, 
 where stood an old Balm of 
 Gilead tree, ancient as the hills 
 themselves. 
 
 Flora knew that Stewart had 
 made a flooring and seats of pack-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 7 7 
 
 ing boxes among its huge limbs, 
 which swept the upper part of the 
 steep hill. 
 
 " By Jingo ! you deserve a whip- 
 ping," Mr. Bates exclaimed fiercely, 
 when he espied the child, clasp- 
 ing a bough of the tree ; but a 
 glance at the little fellow's white, 
 frightened face disarmed all censure. 
 He was drenched to the skin, with 
 clothing torn, and his hat, with a 
 portion of "his house," were scud- 
 ding over the meadows. 
 
 " Oh, but wasn't I frightened ! " he 
 cried, as he slid down into the 
 kindly arms waiting to receive him ; 
 " but I couldn't get home, so I put 
 my arms around that old bough 
 which whirled up and down, like 
 anything. I thought the whole 
 world was on fire once, but I held 
 on all the same." 
 
 The boy trembled with the fear 
 he had experienced. He was soon 
 taken to his anxious mother who 
 wept over him, while the others did 
 the more practical part of disrobing 
 and rubbing the little fellow. 
 
 When the storm abated, the sultri- 
 ness and a slow rain continued. 
 Helen could not leave her aunt, and 
 wrote to her mother for what she 
 needed when Robert called to take 
 her home. Flora was ready as soon
 
 78 DR. JOL'X SA WYER. 
 
 as the required articles were, to go 
 and share the vigil of the night with 
 her friend. The elder doctor came 
 in early in the evening to inspect 
 his patient, and found Allan very 
 low, with his nephew anxiously 
 watching him. 
 
 " If the weather changes so that 
 the atmosphere cools off by mid- 
 night and if he rallies, we may pull 
 him up again." 
 
 Helen and Flora trembled at the 
 significance of the little word 
 "if." 
 
 At one o'clock the rain ceased. 
 Stars began to glimmer timidly, and 
 a slight breeze sprang up clear and 
 revivifying. Allan drank a glass 
 of warm milk, and more favorable 
 symptoms appeared. Flora per- 
 suaded Helen to retire, while she 
 remained alone by the side of the 
 sick boy, who looked his grati- 
 tude for her coming. Helen was 
 pale and worn from the nervous 
 excitement she had undergone, and 
 gladly resigned her charge to the 
 care of the stronger girl, who was 
 bravely trying to hide an aching 
 heart. A sorrow had rushed upon 
 her swiftly, and too surely thrust 
 upon her, through a look which 
 had flashed from the eyes of Clar- 
 ence upon Helen, all unnoticed by
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 79 
 
 her, when he was parting from 
 them. 
 
 Flora felt stunned, as though by a 
 blow almost as fierce, in its first 
 shock, as that caused by the light- 
 ning to the old oak tree.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EXCEPT for a 
 demolition of a por- 
 tion of the ' ' Lone 
 Oak," which stood 
 as evidence, the in- 
 mates of the cottage could easily 
 have persuaded themselves that 
 their fears had exaggerated the vio- 
 lence of the storm. 
 
 A beautiful day succeeded the 
 night of havoc, as if nature was striv- 
 ing to atone for the fury she had 
 shown. 
 
 Allan was slightly better. His 
 strength was slowly returning, and 
 Flora left at sunrise for her home. 
 Later in the morning, Robert called 
 to take Helen to the farmhouse, 
 80
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 8 I 
 
 where her mother was still unnerved 
 from the fright she had sustained, 
 and upbraided her daughter for leav- 
 ing her at such a time. Doctor 
 Clarence made an early call, and did 
 not mention Miss Lindsey, but or- 
 dered perfect quiet for Allan. The 
 shock the lad had undergone less- 
 ened his frail hold on life, and both 
 doctors watched him with grave 
 apprehension. At the end of a week, 
 the senior doctor announced his 
 ultimatum. The sick boy must be 
 taken to the coast for sea-air, and 
 Mrs. Varney and Ann set about the 
 necessary preparations at once. 
 
 Old Orchard Beach was but a few 
 hours' ride by rail from Harrow, and 
 Dr. Clarence offered to take charge 
 of Allan on the journey. Acting 
 upon Dr. Sawyer's suggestion, Mrs. 
 Varney invited Flora to be her guest ; 
 her mother demurred, but the girl 
 won her father's consent who 
 noticed that she was looking pale 
 and ill, which Mrs. Bates ascribed 
 wholly to the excessive heat. 
 
 The languid manner, so unlike the 
 sprightliness of other days, spoke of 
 something deeper to the watchful 
 eye of the elder doctor. From Clar- 
 ence he could glean nothing. All 
 unconscious himself, absorbed in a 
 growing passion for the other, he 
 6
 
 82 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 had thrown his interest and time 
 into a work of philanthropy, where 
 skill would be of practical use as 
 well. A malignant fever had broken 
 out some time before, among Hun- 
 garian emigrants who had come to 
 seek employment in the factory of 
 Blackmore, and Clarence was study- 
 ing its phases, working incessantly 
 toward stamping out the disease. 
 Flora Bates had never seen the 
 ocean, and her delight in it was un- 
 bounded. Its everlasting murmur 
 with its hours of surging unrest fol- 
 lowed by calm, interested and fasci- 
 nated her. It seemed akin to the 
 human heart with its tempestuous 
 hours, and inevitable sequence of 
 despairing calm. 
 
 Mrs. Varney read, with a woman's 
 intuition that a crisis had come in 
 the life of her young friend, but for- 
 bore to question, knowing that time 
 and change would bring reaction to 
 a healthy nature. She had also 
 noticed the flash in Helen's eyes, 
 when Allan would sing the praises 
 of Doctor Clarence, and Mrs. Var- 
 ney was sincerely sorry for this 
 complication, fearing that her niece 
 would sacrifice herself, rather than 
 act contrary to her father's will, 
 who would dig a grave for his 
 daughter's heart and trample it
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 83 
 
 relentlessly out of sight, dare it 
 oppose his own intentions. This 
 seemed a foregone conclusion to the 
 woman who had/e// the force of his 
 total lack of sympathy and affection. 
 Helen was growing morbidly cu- 
 rious in regard to the couple whose 
 paths she had unwittingly crossed. 
 A changein Flora pained her deeply. 
 While there was the same love 
 and attention, yet, an impercepti- 
 ble shadow had arisen between 
 them. 
 
 The younger doctor's name was 
 rarely spoken by her. Helen could 
 not guess at the pain the noble girl 
 was struggling to conquer by force 
 of will and a strong sense of the 
 fitness of things. Her letters from 
 Old Orchard abounded with amusing 
 descriptions of the people she was 
 meeting, for she was apt and orig- 
 inal. 
 
 At the farm-house the absent 
 member was sorely missed. Day 
 after day, Stewart asked the same 
 question. 
 
 ' ' How much longer will Miss 
 Flora be gone ? " 
 
 The boy had no one to romp with 
 him, and tell the stories Flora in- 
 vented for him which always 
 painted a moral to him in relation 
 to obedience.
 
 a 4 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 The heated term which had devel- 
 oped early in July, continued into 
 August. Allan had been benefited 
 by the change of air, but seemed 
 more sensitive to atmospheric in- 
 fluence each day. Books lost their 
 power to distract him, and a tax was 
 levied on his friends, who struggled 
 bravely to dissemble any pessimistic 
 tendencies in regard to his condition. 
 His physician would allow only the 
 few to see him upon whose dis- 
 cretion he could rely. Mrs. Emer- 
 son was anearandhelpful neighbor; 
 possessing a warm, cheery nature 
 herself, she carried sunshine into the 
 sickroom with her presence. One 
 afternoon, coming from a meeting of 
 the Ladies ' Aid Society, she ran in 
 to see the boy, and found a merry 
 discussion going on between the 
 Doctor and Miss Lindsey, brought 
 about by a message Allan had given 
 the former from Jamie. 
 
 "Now!" exclaimed the new- 
 comer, " here is the very chance I 
 have long wanted to ask Docter 
 Sawyer how he happened to become 
 a spiritualist ! I had always sup- 
 posed that only weak-minded 
 rather low-down kind of intellects, 
 you know, could cherish a thought 
 of such a belief ! " 
 
 "And you therefore infer, " the
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 85 
 
 Doctor said, " that there must be a 
 strata of subordinate matter in my 
 mental caliber, Mrs. Emerson ? " 
 The Doctor's eyes twinkled. 
 
 "No, oh no; not exactly." A 
 laugh ensued at his expense by the 
 dubious accent of the lady's tones. 
 
 "The Doctor said, "I did not 
 happen into this for I walked very 
 slowly into it, with deliberate steps 
 wary and doubting ones they 
 were, too, which led me to convic- 
 tions. I will tell you a bit of the 
 why and wherefore. 
 
 "Early in life I ran across so many 
 gyrations in the general order of 
 things, which refuted scientific ex- 
 planation, that I began to take 
 notes, as it were. I did not know as 
 much then, as I do now, Allan," 
 the Doctor looked over to the boy, 
 "and I ridiculed clairvoyance. 
 The first thing that baffled my in- 
 quiring mind were certain con- 
 ditions surrounding one of my class- 
 mates, one of the dreamy metaphy- 
 ical type, whom I voted abnormal 
 and considered tinged with super- 
 stition ; yet his unvarying patience, 
 with his evident liking for myself, 
 helped to modify the disgust I en- 
 tertained for his views. I had many 
 startling experiences with him which 
 I vainly endeavored to approximate
 
 8u DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 to my understanding. I won't 
 go into that phase of my becoming 
 interested in this subject. I lost 
 sight of Draper. The last I knew of 
 him he had gone to the far East, on 
 some occult investigation, and he 
 now is probably a Mahatma. " 
 
 The listening group laughed in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " You remember Jack Thompson, 
 of course, Mrs. Emerson ? " con- 
 tinued the Doctor. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, queer fellow, too. 
 By the way, my husband had a 
 long letter from Grand Rapids, 
 recently, from this same Jack Thomp- 
 son, who writes that he is making 
 a fortune out of some invention." 
 
 "Good! I am glad to know it ; 
 his neighbors here always considered 
 him a ne'er-do-well, you know ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I am sure I thought so 
 too, Doctor." 
 
 "Very likely," dryly responded 
 the Doctor, who continued : "You 
 also know that he had only the 
 ' tow r n-school learning ' as they call 
 it here, and dull at that, with abso- 
 lutely no knowledge of literature ; yet 
 he would walk into my office some- 
 times, and recite long verses from 
 Virgil, asking me what it meant ; 
 even Greek, I have heard him launch 
 into at most unexpected times, and
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 87 
 
 correctly ; after it, he would scratch 
 his head and look about him in 
 that bewildered manner he had, 
 which gave him the appearance of 
 being daft. I shall never forget one 
 demonstration of his power. 
 
 " I was going, at a rapid pace, to 
 see a very sick patient, one day dur- 
 ing that time when Clarence came 
 so near going under with diphtheria, 
 many years ago but, Mrs. Emer- 
 son, I shall never forgetthe sympathy 
 that went out to me in my hour of 
 trial from the parsonage bless you 
 all. It was the day that I was the 
 most despairing, and felt that hardly 
 a chance was left my boy. Jack 
 rushed to my gig on my way out of 
 the village, and stopped me, ex- 
 claiming, ' Doctor Sawyer, you must 
 change the treatment and Clarence 
 will get well.' He mentioned 
 something I was revolving in my 
 own brain, and of which he was 
 most ignorant. I made no an- 
 swer, but turned my horse, and 
 home I went. I have never related 
 this before, although I have been 
 convinced that another intelligence 
 than my own, forced me to de- 
 termine my change of base in the 
 treatment of one of the most critical 
 cases I had ever conducted." 
 
 "Doctor," interrogated Helen,
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 "why could all this not have 
 been given direct to you, and at the 
 right time, instead of reaching you 
 through an ignorant man like Mr. 
 Thompson ? " 
 
 "Ah, there you have me, Miss 
 Lindsey. I am not permitted to 
 know the inner workings of the 
 powers that be ; possibly the other 
 man was used as a direct channel 
 for communication through a me- 
 diumistic power which /do not pos- 
 sess. Another time, this man came 
 to my office for medicine for one of 
 his children, and when I handed it to 
 him, he said, ' A relation of yours, a 
 distant one is dead stop and I will 
 get the name, and sure enough, 
 he came out with the name of a great- 
 aunt of mine in Colorado, from 
 whom I seldom heard. I laughed at 
 him and replied, ' I guess you are 
 off this time, Thompson ! ' The 
 matter never occurred to me again 
 until something like two weeks 
 after, a letter came from a cousin 
 announcing the very same thing 
 and news of a legacy, which, by the 
 way, the man had told me of, as 
 well as the manner of her going 
 from life, which was likewise 
 corroborated. Nobody in this town 
 knew of such a person, and how 
 was he enabled to tell me of such
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 89 
 
 alien facts as these ? Such things 
 cannot be incidental. 
 
 ' ' I have given you a few tests that 
 chance to be uppermost in my mind 
 at this instant. My further ex- 
 periences with the phenomena of 
 spirit power have been manifold, 
 but I have not time to go into 
 particulars. I can only say that 
 my abundant knowledge of the 
 truth that, ' There is no death ! 
 What seems so, is transition, ' has 
 brought comfort and peace in regard 
 to an immortal life to me, and I see 
 no occasion for a belief in it to 
 conflict with any denominational 
 belief, if only it were understood. 
 I used to dread death as the opening 
 of the door to the dreary monotony 
 of eternal Sabbaths, with the harp 
 playing and singing, which was 
 promised us in my young days. 
 To my active and restless mind it 
 was only a trifle more alluring pic- 
 ture than the reverse one of the 
 burning pit, waiting for all bad boys 
 who didn't love Sunday school." 
 
 "And of course you did not?" 
 said Mrs. Emerson, with emphasis. 
 
 ' ' No ! how could I ? A reason- 
 ing mind had been given me and I 
 couldn't accept the old orthodox 
 catechism." 
 
 The carriage drove up for Helen,
 
 90 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 and the little party dispersed, but a 
 new thought had taken root in Mrs. 
 Emerson's mind. 
 
 Helen had ample time for reflec- 
 tion. Life was taking on for her a 
 confusing outlook. Each passing 
 day brought her nearer the resump- 
 tion of the old life in New York, 
 where the demands of the tireless 
 whirl of society would draw her 
 again into the same tread-mill. She 
 had never experienced life outside 
 of that before, and scarcely knew 
 her own feelings. 
 
 One afternoon, returning from a 
 drive, she sought her hammock 
 under the trees, and threw herself 
 into it with a painful sense of useless- 
 ness and loneliness. 
 
 A table near her was strewn with 
 the latest periodicals and weeklies, 
 but they had no power to divert 
 her. The odor of newly-cut grass 
 came in delicious whiffs from the 
 low meadow across the road be- 
 low the broad fields and orchards. 
 A shower in the morning had 
 washed the foliage, and nature was 
 resplendent in freshness. Helen 
 looked up to see Doctor Clarence 
 drive to the carriage-block near 
 a side-entrance. He fastened his 
 horse, and walked over to where the 
 girl, who had risen, was standing, a
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 9 1 
 
 bright and undisguised look of pleas- 
 ure upon her face. 
 
 " You looked so comfortable here, 
 that I was seized with an irresistible 
 desire to disturb you out of willful 
 envy, Miss Lindsey, " he said, as 
 he took her proffered hand. She 
 pointed to a large rocker near her. 
 
 "The penalty, therefore, will be 
 to sit and talk to me. Is it not breezy 
 and charming upon this hill, Doctor 
 Clarence ? " 
 
 He placed his straw hat on the 
 grass beside his chair, his eyes 
 wandering over the entrancing 
 view spread out before him. 
 
 "Grand!" he replied, then, im- 
 pulsively "Oh! what a contrast 
 to the place I was in this morning ! 
 As pronounced in effect as light and 
 darkness." His expression changed 
 as his mind went backward to that 
 other dreary scene. 
 
 " Is the typhoid fever abating, 
 Doctor, among those poor factory 
 people at Blackmore ? We have 
 heard of your untiring attention to 
 them." 
 
 " You are kind to speak of that, 
 Miss Lindsey. Yes ; thank God, I 
 believe the worst is over, there 
 have been no new cases in ten days, 
 but the heat is against us, and their 
 mode of life awfully against them.
 
 92 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 The fever has been mostly among 
 the new emigrants, and we could 
 get none of their neighbors to care 
 for them ; they are all overworked 
 and wretchedly poor at best." 
 
 " Ho\v sad it is ! " was all Helen 
 could say, then she felt the want of 
 feeling in her words, and added, 
 " Life seems so unequal I cannot 
 understand why it is so." 
 
 Clarence smiled, but made no 
 direct reply. ' ' We find it vastly dif- 
 ferent in large cities. There, people 
 constantly work among the slums, 
 ' where life seems one solid body : 
 at once a struggle and a calamity.' 
 None but the physicians who see the 
 sick in the very lowest walks of 
 life can estimate the good, the 
 heroic endeavor, of the many or- 
 ganizations. The different orders 
 of the Sisters of Charity do a 
 noble, self-forgetting work, unheard 
 of by the world. I remember an 
 instance in which a member of the 
 Salvation Army attained the rank 
 of a saint in my memory. 
 
 "While I was in hospital service 
 I went, for a dispensary physician 
 who was* my particular friend, to 
 see a case too repulsive to describe. 
 
 " I left, after doing the little I could 
 toward alleviating, and returned 
 the next day, to witness a trans-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 93 
 
 formation. A sweet-faced woman, 
 wearing the garb of that army, 
 which was not respected then, as 
 it is to-day, had been in the room 
 all night. Four years more of earn- 
 est, useful work, have placed the 
 toilers where ridicule cannot touch 
 them But, to return to what I was 
 saying, this woman had brought 
 about a look of order and cleanli- 
 ness, which went beyond my com- 
 prehension. The wretched sufferer 
 was clothed in clean apparel, and 
 her apology for a bed had been 
 made comfortable. When I entered 
 the room, this sister of Christ sat 
 reading His Word to the sick and 
 sinful woman. I did not visit the 
 place again ; but I shall never forget 
 the impression I received, and I 
 believe there are thousands like her. 
 Heroines of whom the world never 
 hears. It requires more than phys- 
 ical strength and nerve to do these 
 things, Miss Lindsey." 
 
 Helen looked at his face and made 
 mental contrasts. But she said in- 
 differently : 
 
 " It has been a fad among soci- 
 ety people for some time, to hear 
 Mrs. Booth talk of her work. She 
 has a beautiful face. I saw her once 
 at the house of a friend of mine on 
 Fifth Avenue."
 
 94 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 "Yes, with that beauty emanat- 
 ing from a beautiful soul," an- 
 swered the Doctor, " for her whole 
 life is an output of the Golden 
 Rule." 
 
 " But, Doctor Clarence, would 
 you have all doing such work ? 
 What would become of the charm- 
 ing homes, of art, and music ? All 
 that education and culture, through 
 wealth, combine to make the 
 world beautiful. Where can you 
 draw the line ? It certainly seems 
 what it is right for one to do, should 
 be so for another." 
 
 Helen's face looked so perplexed, 
 that the Doctor's had an amused 
 expression. 
 
 ' ' No, Miss Lindsey, neither would 
 I attempt to draw that line ! Each 
 individual conscience must take 
 care of itself. The world needs 
 brightness and beauty. I am not 
 such a prig as to think all lines 
 should be forced into one hollow 
 square. I would not detract one 
 iota from the grandeur of the beau- 
 tiful structures for art, the temples, 
 or the homes : nor would I ask 
 one individual to do work distaste- 
 ful to her, or his fastidious tastes, 
 but I would have" the speaker 
 stopped a moment and drew a long 
 breath " helping hands through
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 95 
 
 the purse, and encouragement of 
 voice, through appreciation with 
 the money given. I would have 
 the tongue of the scoffer dumb, 
 the eyes which can see only evil, 
 blind, and there would be found 
 ready hands and willing feet, to do 
 all the work required, even for the 
 humblest." 
 
 Helen was about to reply, when 
 a sharp cry interrupted her, and lit- 
 tle Stewart came running toward 
 her, holding up a chubby hand not 
 over-clean. 
 
 "A bee has stung me, sister. 
 Look ! " He was struggling to keep 
 back the tears. "It does hurt aw- 
 ful ! " 
 
 " Indeed, it must hurt, my boy ; 
 here," and the Doctor opened a lit- 
 tle case, "this will neutralize the 
 poison. What were you doing to 
 the bee ? " 
 
 Stewart hesitated. 
 
 " Nothing only " and he cast 
 his eyes down, " only driving him 
 away from the honeysuckle." 
 
 "And the stupid little bee retali- 
 ated ! " said the Doctor, laughing 
 heartily: "but he taught you a 
 good lesson. " 
 
 "You bet ! " exclaimed Stewart. 
 
 Doctor Clarence stood up. 
 
 "Now, then, come for a drive
 
 g6 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 with me, and I will tell you how a 
 whole bee-hive opened once on me. 
 I have a baby horse down at the 
 next farm which you would like to 
 see, I know." 
 
 "Run and ask mamma, and let 
 Gibbs make you more presentable," 
 his sister said, "he will forget his 
 pain." The boy had rushed off to 
 obtain the required permission. 
 
 "Yes, I had that object in view. 
 The small boy is always getting 
 into mischief. I wonder that I es- 
 caped with a whole body." 
 
 A little more conversation fol- 
 lowed of a livelier tone than the 
 one broken in upon, when Stewart 
 appeared, holding his throbbing 
 hand high in the air, but no further 
 trace of tears. When they returned 
 from the drive, Doctor Clarence 
 stopped at the side of the road to 
 let Stewart out, who ran to his sis- 
 ter to tell her of his ride. 
 
 "That Doctor is awfully jolly, I 
 like him ; he's been telling me what 
 he used to do when he was a kid ; " 
 but Stewart was off, chasing a huge 
 butterfly which had soared too near 
 the boy's line of vision for its own 
 safety. 
 
 The conversation occurred to 
 Helen many times ; this man was 
 so unlike all others she had met, in
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 97 
 
 his strong personality ; and the in- 
 nate purity of the girl recognized its 
 counterpart in the man who pos- 
 sessed the power to stir her emo- 
 tional nature to its profoundest 
 depths.
 
 DR. JOHN 
 SAWYER had 
 
 lived many years in the 
 center of the town of Har- 
 row. An elderly widow kept 
 his house in order and the Doctor 
 in leading strings by her punctili- 
 ous habits, while her son drove the 
 horse when the Doctor needed his 
 services, and at other times worked 
 about the place. 
 
 One Saturday evening Mr. Emer- 
 son stopped on the way from a pas- 
 toral call, to have a chat with his 
 friend, and learned that the Doctor 
 was absent. 
 
 " His supper is spoilt, and Timothy 
 98
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 99 
 
 hasn't done up his chores," wailed 
 the discomforted housekeeper. 
 
 Clarence's cheery voice called 
 from the office, 
 
 ' ' Come in, Mr. Emerson, and wait 
 for Uncle John ; he will show up 
 soon. He was sent for this after- 
 noon to attend that poor Mrs. Green 
 who lives in the hollow. A bad lot 
 Asa is, they tell me. and even mal- 
 treats his wife. " 
 
 "Yes, I have heard the same; 
 but you know they are not in my 
 parish, and I really know very little 
 about them." 
 
 Clarence rose from the couch 
 where he had been reading and 
 smoking. He invited his visitor to 
 join him and the offer was accepted, 
 the clergyman saying, 
 
 "I am not in the habit of smok- 
 ing, but the fragrance of your cigar 
 tempts me. Thanks, my dear boy." 
 
 Mr. Emerson had a keen admira- 
 tion for the young physician, whose 
 mental poise was in keeping with a 
 perfect physical organization, and 
 the clergyman had a bright son at 
 college in whom Clarence felt an 
 interest. 
 
 " What will Tom make? Has he 
 evinced any choice for a profession 
 yet, Mr. Emerson ? " 
 
 " Not any, nor am I sure that he
 
 I oo DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 will choose a profession ; but a col- 
 legiate course, I think, fits a man the 
 better for any career. He should 
 be more thorough for such a train- 
 ing." 
 
 The conversation drifted from one 
 subject to another, until the clergy- 
 man touched upon the Briggs' trial 
 then at its height, and which he 
 bitterly deplored. 
 
 "I have not followed it at all," 
 replied Clarence. ' ' Abroad I was in- 
 terested only in what was going on 
 around me, and Germany, you know, 
 is the hot-bed of metaphysical 
 thought. I will tell you what im- 
 pressed me in regard to the Roman 
 Catholic faith, from the outlook at 
 Rome. That church with the egot- 
 ism of ages to back her assertions, 
 claims to be the only one founded 
 on an immovable rock, holding a 
 creed which nothing has yet driven 
 from its foundation. An eminent 
 Dean, whom I heard speak to a 
 rousing big audience in England, 
 made this remark, ' That the Roman 
 Catholic creed was never trimmed 
 to suit the modern market.' His 
 words struck me with the force of 
 originality, and a measure of truth. 
 Despite the cold materialism which 
 at times makes the avowal that man 
 is only a form of matter, to be dis-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. i o i 
 
 pelled again into the dust of which 
 the Universe is made, Rome has 
 stood serene, holding the same 
 power, and there seems no visible 
 sign that her reign ever will be over. 
 She was majestic in her forms and 
 symbols, before the Saxon foot trod 
 Britain's soil, or before the Frank 
 had dreamed of crossing the Rhine, 
 and she remains a tower of strength 
 to-day, with unlimited wealth and 
 influence. I cannot understand her 
 far-reaching power. Old dogmas 
 do not fit the rapidly changing 
 views of Jehovah and his footstool. 
 The trend is toward a personal ad- 
 justment of belief." 
 
 "You are speaking now only of 
 agitators, I think, Clarence. Right 
 down at the core of men's hearts is 
 a staunch belief in the inspiration 
 of the Gospels." 
 
 " Yet you must admit, Mr. Emer- 
 son, that the signs indicate an up- 
 heaval, like the far-away murmur- 
 ing of the coming storm. Ethics 
 seem to fit the nineteenth century 
 mind, and " 
 
 Dr. Sawyer entered at this mo- 
 ment. A slight supper had suf- 
 ficed for the weary man, who, after 
 greeting his guest in his cordial 
 manner, dropped into an old easy 
 chair, exclaiming,
 
 I o 2 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 " I am tired out, and heartsick as 
 well. No, thank you, Clarence, no 
 cigar to-night," as his nephew 
 crossed the room, case in hand. 
 
 "Has it been worse than usual, 
 uncle ? " 
 
 ' ' Worse ? Yes, a desecration of 
 that eternal mystery, Maternity. 
 Degradation and abuse added to 
 utter helplessness.'' The Doctor 
 closed his eyes as if to shut out a 
 painful picture, and his face looked 
 as if he too had suffered. His broad, 
 white forehead was seamed with 
 lines of sympathy, and his com- 
 pressed lips indicated a struggle to 
 control an angry spirit. He spoke 
 as if to himself. 
 
 "A poor woman alone in child- 
 birth, neither kindness nor comfort 
 to brighten her lot of suffering, which 
 forced her to tell me that the event 
 had been hastened by a kick the 
 damnable brute gave her yesterday. 
 A dead child, fortunately, was the re- 
 sult. As I was leaving, Green came 
 reeling in, curses on his lips, and a 
 blow for the child who sat crying 
 on the doorstep. When he saw me, 
 he slunk into a corner muttering, 
 ' I don't want no more devilish brats 
 here,' then threw himself down and 
 was soon snoring. I tell you what, 
 it was tough work to keep my
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 103 
 
 hands off. I would have liked to 
 throttle him. He'll sleep off his 
 drunk, but he'll be ugly to-morrow. 
 Monday the law shall take care of 
 him, if I live to make a complaint." 
 
 Clarence was walking the floor 
 excitedly. 
 
 " Oh ! fora law to reach the rum- 
 seller," he cried, as he struck his 
 clinched fist into the palm of his 
 hand ; "a laAV that would inflict a 
 heavy penalty on the man who 
 sold liquor to a known drunkard." 
 
 "Can nothing more be done ? Is 
 there no one with that poor wo- 
 man to-night? " inquired the tender- 
 hearted clergyman. " I did not 
 know there was such a case of 
 misery in our midst.'' 
 
 '" Because she has borne her trou- 
 bles in silence, Emerson. They 
 have no near neighbors, and I find 
 she is in deadly terror of him. God 
 alone knows what she has endured 
 from that inhuman sot. I was de- 
 tained hunting up a woman, who 
 would not be afraid of Green to go 
 and stay, and finally prevailed upon 
 Susan Hanks for a good compen- 
 sation. He won't bully her much. 
 She would lay him out. I have sent 
 what was needed from the stores, 
 and to-morrow morning shall go 
 down again."
 
 1 04 DR. JOHN SA IVYER. 
 
 A silence ensued, each man en- 
 grossed with his own impressions. 
 
 " Dr. Sawyer, I would like to ask 
 a leading question. " 
 
 " Drive ahead, Dominie," an- 
 swered the Doctor. 
 
 "It is this. Would you expect 
 or wish that such a degraded and 
 brutal man as Asa Green, and I 
 fear there are too many of his kind 
 to escape punishment in a world to 
 come ? " 
 
 " By no means," emphatically re- 
 plied the Doctor, as he sat upright 
 in his chair ; "and yet the church 
 will promise the most infamous de- 
 fier of law that a repentance at the 
 eleventh hour, made under the in- 
 fluence of fear, not conscience, en- 
 titles him to full communion with 
 just men after death. That popular 
 cant at the very foot of the gallows 
 repels my sense of justice. 
 
 " If you break a natural law, you 
 entail the consequent suffering ; 
 Why take exception in a moral law ? 
 I hold, that to be in harmony with 
 the inexorable law of justice, the 
 brutal with the liar and traitor, who 
 ruin other lives, should meet in 
 the next life a consciousness of their 
 own revolting selves, more terrible 
 perhaps then the pictures of Dante's 
 Inferno, with yet, mark me, a
 
 DR. JO II 2V SA WYEK. 105 
 
 possibility that they may work out 
 through that consciousness which 
 means punishment, an ultimate sal- 
 vation." 
 
 Clarence halted in his walk, and 
 leaned against the old fashioned 
 mantel-shelf. 
 
 " Uncle John, you alarm me," he 
 said, laughing 1 . "You give a fellow 
 so little show ; I think I like the old 
 way better." 
 
 "Your uncle is a staunch believer 
 in retribution at all events," said Mr. 
 Emerson. " His line of reasoning is 
 vigorous, like himself, and he means 
 just what he says ; but I cannot 
 always get at his true inwardness. 
 It took me some time to believe that 
 he is an out-and-out spiritualist, 
 but I am satisfied on one point. 
 He is a good practical Christian at 
 heart. " 
 
 "Thank you, Dominie. If you 
 were not an optimist, I shouldn't 
 have sat under your preaching, as I 
 have, for over a quarter of a century. 
 You have never given me up be- 
 cause I cannot profess your creed. 
 The points of difference in creeds 
 amount only to accepted prejudices 
 in my opinion, you know, and he 
 who holds without investigation, for 
 himself, the faith to which he was 
 born, or educated, has only a bor-
 
 1 06 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 rowed opinion. There is no vital- 
 izing element in it, and that may 
 be the cause why so many disgrace 
 this or that church, of which they 
 happen to be members. The clergy 
 rave against spiritualism, of which 
 most of them know absolutely noth- 
 ing, while they still preach the mira- 
 cles of old, declaring their existence, 
 and admitting that spirits appeared 
 and instructed people of a semi-bar- 
 barous time, denying that a more 
 intelligent people could attract 
 such influences, without any foun- 
 dation whatever for such premises, 
 except, I must repeat it, borrowed 
 opinion." 
 
 Clarence stood erect and bowed to 
 his uncle. 
 
 " You should mount the rostrum ! 
 You are eloquent in behalf of your 
 hobby, Uncle John." 
 
 "Pardon me, my dear nephew, 
 my belief is not a hobby inasmuch 
 as it is born of conviction and 
 truth. " 
 
 "I believe you there, Doctor," 
 the clergyman exclaimed. " You 
 are too earnest in your argument 
 to be without truth in your mind. 
 My own opinion is based upon 
 prejudice, which I am willing to 
 acknowledge." 
 
 "But you are too just a man,
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 07 
 
 Emerson, to altogether condemn a 
 subject which you confess you are 
 in ignorance concerning, like a so- 
 called eminent divine in New 
 York, who, last year, opened a cru- 
 sade against spiritualism, based up- 
 on an interview with what he called 
 a 'greasy medium', a sort of fort- 
 une-teller, and there are many such, 
 who bring odium upon spiritualism ; 
 but they are merely parasities. 
 That man hurled coarse invectives 
 in a whirlwind of rhetorical sen- 
 tences from his pulpit threatening 
 to ' uproot the pernicious doctrine,' 
 through the force of his mighty 
 investigation showing by the way 
 he handled his subject, that he was 
 absolutely ignorant of its funda- 
 mental truths, and perhaps not 
 knowing that innumerable church- 
 members, comprising many pow- 
 erful and analytical minds, with 
 thousands of scientists, philosophers, 
 and distinguished men in the literary 
 world, acknowledge a belief in a 
 mediumistic power not all of one 
 kind or degree, however, forgifts are 
 differently bestowed. 
 
 " Emerson, you believe that in the 
 beginning of the Christian era mani- 
 festations of spirit-power were 
 given? To one the 'gift of healing,' 
 to another 'prophecy,' and so on,
 
 1 08 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 even to the signs and wonders, do 
 you not ? " 
 
 " We are certainly taught to 
 believe it, in the New Testament, 
 Doctor." 
 
 " Very well ; have you any proof 
 that the invisible power reached no 
 further than that one period? That 
 God has never manifested through 
 his chosen instruments since ? 
 Carlyle said that ' a fact is a Divine 
 revelation, and he who acts contrary 
 to a fact, acts against God.' Now 
 it strikes me that they who be- 
 lieve at all in Divine revelation, 
 should be willing to investigate 
 patiently for facts, instead of indors- 
 ing another's opinion. You would 
 think it a harsh measure, if the 
 churches were all condemned right 
 and left, because of the rascality of 
 too many of your members. I am 
 aware that the Charlatan element 
 tends to keep spiritualism un- 
 popular. Naturally a refined nature 
 shrinks from showing its true colors ; 
 so the belief suffers, and not until 
 the wheat can be separated from 
 the chaff, will ridicule be sur- 
 mounted. The faith, pure and 
 simple, challenges honest and in- 
 telligent investigation, and I sin- 
 cerely believe if the psychical 
 societies increasing all over the
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 109 
 
 world would unite in harmonious 
 action, the result would be over- 
 whelming'." 
 
 " Possibly," answered the other 
 ambiguously. " I am unable to 
 frame any hypothesis, but does not 
 occultism profess to produce similar 
 phenomena ? " 
 
 "I am not qualified, Emerson, to 
 say pro or con about that. The 
 underlying principle is different, 
 however, for the spiritualist claims 
 proof of the return of the spirit to 
 teach in a limited way, for limita- 
 tions still surround it, of its life 
 after the death of the material body. 
 And I want to tell you right here, that 
 the much abused word 'medium/ 
 conveys a different meaning to me 
 from the general understanding of it. 
 While it seems associated with fraud 
 to many people, I know that in its 
 true sense it means a line thrown 
 from the eternal shore to the doubt- 
 ing mind, through the knowledge 
 it is able to impart, and to me it 
 throbs with the power it defines. 
 The blind cannot look upon the 
 handiwork of the Creator, yet its 
 beauties remain to our sight, an in- 
 disputable certainty." 
 
 " Pardon an interruption, Uncle 
 John," said Clarence, " but how 
 can you reconcile certain facts ?
 
 1 1 o DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 Every now and then a hue and cry 
 is raised over some deluded man 
 who gets into the clutches of a pro- 
 fessional medium. By hook or crook 
 his money, or a large portion of it, 
 has been made over to an infamous 
 swindler, and the courts will declare 
 him of unsound mind. " 
 
 " Ah, my dear boy, the shameless 
 work of impostors is what spirit- 
 ualism in its honest phases has to 
 contend against. I cannot harmonize 
 the opprobrium cast upon it through 
 such unprincipled representatives. 
 The man or woman who prostitutes 
 the possession of a psychical power 
 for personal aggrandizement or evil 
 purposes, parts at once with true 
 Spirit influence, and will be con- 
 trolled by evil to a lamentable 
 extent. Like attracts like. A bitter 
 herb will not yield a sweet morsel. 
 There are unfortunately too many 
 mediums who work infamy for 
 themselves, and bring dishonor 
 upon sincere persons. 
 
 " Men in general believe in the 
 Devil. We would be surprised 
 could we know how for a belief in 
 a personal copartnership for other 
 people with him extends. A man 
 may not be insane who desires to 
 give what belongs to him, perhaps 
 what he has earned himself to any
 
 >X. JOHN SA WYER. 1 1 1 
 
 person or cause in which he has an 
 absorbing interest, but it certainly 
 demonstrates how strong an influ- 
 ence a perverted power through an 
 unworthy medium might, and does 
 become. 
 
 "An evil, sordid mind will work 
 what emanates through it. The 
 finest mediums shrink from con- 
 nection with fraud." 
 
 " I dare say," the nephew an- 
 swered, "if honest professionals in 
 the belief gave their services free 
 gratis, it would be all right. Receiv- 
 ing pay for a half hour's trance, 
 seems the greatest stickler to the 
 opposing side." 
 
 " Well, Clarence, is it fair? Is it 
 any less just for a person to whom 
 has been given the peculiar power 
 to teach under spirit control of 
 hidden things, to receive a fee for 
 time and services rendered, in so 
 far as they can, than for any other 
 teacher to be compensated ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, looking at it in 
 that light," put in Mr. Emerson. 
 The Doctor, unheeding him, con- 
 tinued :- 
 
 "When they claim, however, that 
 self is to be enriched in any form or 
 shape, that very instant, fraud and 
 trickery should be suspected and 
 exposed. A medium, when in the
 
 112 DR. JOHN SA W YER. 
 
 trance state, lends the brain to ex- 
 press what the spirit controlling it, 
 needs to use. I have acquaintance 
 with a lady in private life who 
 possesses a gift of this nature, and 
 I know, from personal investigation, 
 that she is absolutely unconscious 
 of what is promulgated when in a 
 trance condition. She tells me that 
 she never allows herself to be so 
 controlled except in fear and trem- 
 bling. Her head throbs, her hands 
 are deadly cold, and the heart 
 action becomes abnormal. I have 
 seen her often after recovering from 
 this strange unconsciousness, which 
 I knew to be genuine, so weak and 
 prostrated that I have felt called 
 upon to administer a stimulant. I 
 advised her to discontinue the 
 clairvoyant power. The tax upon 
 vitality is too severe, by the ab- 
 normal condition taken on, 
 
 "Call it what you will, that me- 
 diumistic gift, more often found in 
 the ranks from which Christ sprang 
 it does and will eternally exist, to 
 demonstrate the permanence of 
 the individual after this life, hold- 
 ing still a relation to mortal life in 
 obedience to laws beyond our com- 
 prehension. 
 
 " The world has passed through 
 its greatest material age, the age of
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 1 3 
 
 invention ; and as one writer puts 
 it, the epoch of Electricity ; and 
 now dawns an age looking for spir- 
 itual light, and it is coming in cycles 
 of thought, for to-day the teeming 
 brain of humanity is full of progress- 
 ive ideas nearing outward expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Men ring all the changes on mind- 
 reading, hallucination, hypnotism, 
 and what not, but have not struck 
 the key-note." 
 
 Mr. Emerson rose to leave, 
 when Clarence exclaimed : 
 
 " Hold on a minute, Mr. Emerson. 
 Can you enlighten me concerning 
 the prejudice against spiritualism ? 
 Why don't its believers take a less 
 odious name? I was reading, in 
 a reliable journal too, that they 
 numbered over twelve millions in 
 this country alone. Surely there 
 must be something vital in a doc- 
 trine, which in about half a century 
 counts up figures to such an ex- 
 tent." 
 
 " I frankly admit, my dear boy, 
 that I know nothing of it, except 
 the incontrovertible fact, that it has 
 always been allied to fraud and im- 
 posture. Unfortunately it thrives 
 on the credulity of those who reach 
 after the supernatural, and unthink- 
 ingly seize any absurdity to satisfy
 
 1 1 4 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 an unhealthful and abnormal crav- 
 ing for it." 
 
 Dr. Sawyer smiled. 
 
 "You are justified in what you 
 say, Emerson. But there is another 
 side to be heard before the summing 
 up ; and, my dear old friend, let me 
 assure you that this fact, remains 
 incontrovertible as well. Neither 
 opposition or ridicule have prevailed 
 against spiritualism. " 
 
 The Doctor stood up with the 
 two men, speaking with the heat 
 and glow of earnest purpose. 
 
 "In its first breath of life, com- 
 pared with other beliefs, modern spir- 
 itualism already numbers millions, 
 and is becoming a mighty force, 
 arousing an interest in thinking 
 minds. Understand me, Dominie, I 
 am not speaking against any denom- 
 inational belief. Spiritualism does 
 not formulate any radical creed. 
 Each believer may follow individual 
 choice, or conviction in his own form 
 of worship. Its mission is to con- 
 vince man that only the human is 
 perishable, and that the soul does not 
 wait for the traditional Judgment day, 
 to ascend from the grave where for 
 uncounted ages it may have remained 
 inactive. Fancy the millions, billions 
 of souls, awakening at one instant, 
 after different eras of stagnation.
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. \ 1 5 
 
 into a knowledge of the varied con- 
 ditions surrounding the intervening 
 epochs of time. What a horrible 
 picture such an absurd Pandemo- 
 nium presents to the imagination. 
 How can the thinking mind accept 
 such a view of confusion ? 
 
 The element of intolerance is 
 inimical to growth, and the same 
 spirit instigated all the religious 
 wars and persecutions of an earlier 
 age. It invented the horrible tor- 
 tures, condoned the burning of the 
 martyrs, who retained a different 
 understanding of God and his com- 
 mands. In the name of Christ, the 
 meek and lowly teacher, the most 
 hideous passions of men have found 
 vent, and in His name been ab- 
 solved. In this day but few of His 
 followers mould their lives after the 
 Golden Rule. In your heart, where 
 the still small voice pleads, you 
 agree with me, Emerson, on many 
 points, although you loyally with- 
 hold your opinion." 
 The clergyman drew a long breath. 
 
 " We are lacking in charity, one 
 to another," he replied. 
 
 " Spiritualism," continued Dr. 
 Sawyer, " teaches charity, truth, and 
 purity, and should go hand in hand 
 with Christian endeavor ; but the 
 cause will suffer because of its
 
 1 1 6 DR. JOHN SA W YER. 
 
 Peters to deny it, under the glare of 
 popular opinion ; and its myriads of 
 Judas-like followers to betray their 
 principles for the world's favor. 
 The growing evidences of truth will 
 continue to struggle in contention 
 with a fraud-like semblance, yet 
 good seeds are being sown, and the 
 next century will reap the harvest." 
 The Doctor stopped suddenly. ' ' It 
 just dawns upon my mind, gentle- 
 men, that I have been very prosy 
 and must have bored you. Pardon 
 me if I have done so, I seldom 
 have an audience, you know,'' and 
 he held out his hand, which was 
 clasped in the clergyman's most 
 friendly and cordial manner. 
 
 " Not in the least, Doctor only I 
 half-expect my wife to be sending 
 over for me." Mr. Emerson looked 
 at his watch. "Eleven o'clock! 
 She declares, and justly, that I 
 never know when to leave this 
 office. Believe me, I have enjoyed 
 the, Feast of Reason and Flow of 
 Soul." 
 
 "Flow of Soul," exclaimed the 
 young physician. "I should call it 
 a downright overflow a spring 
 freshet. " 
 
 His uncle held up a warning 
 ringer, as he stepped out into the 
 little entry, to open the outer door
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYEK. 
 
 117 
 
 for his departing guest, whom he 
 loved after the manner of man for 
 man, strongly and deeply. 
 
 "God bless you," were the 
 mutual words at parting.
 
 AUGUST pass- 
 ed slowly to 
 Helen Lindsey, 
 but it left her 
 with renewed 
 health and a growing interest in 
 life and its responsibilities. 
 
 Her gracious manner, free from 
 all affectation, won golden opinions 
 from Mrs. Bates, for that worthy 
 woman had endured many secret 
 misgivings before her boarders 
 came, expecting to meet, at best, a 
 haughty condescension. 
 
 The effect upon the home-life of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bates was salutary. 
 They recognized the contrast in the 
 advantages they had allowed to 
 their own daughter, and realized, 
 the better for contact with cultivated 
 mind and manners, that outside of 
 work and saving, was an interest 
 tending to improvement. 
 118
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 1 9 
 
 Flora was surprised at the round- 
 ing off of a few of her mother's 
 most pronounced angles, the more 
 so when she discovered that Hul- 
 dah had been engaged to remain at 
 the farm-house indefinitely ; but 
 there were whispers afloat of which 
 Flora was kept in ignorance until 
 the plan was carried out. Secret 
 conclaves in which the purchase of 
 a piano was the absorbing topic. 
 
 "You see, Pa, I know how she 
 will miss this one when it is taken 
 away," and the mother added, in 
 tardy justice, "we will enjoy hear- 
 in' her play and sing hymns in the 
 winter evenin's, for she won't 
 have much to do now Huldah is 
 stayin' on." 
 
 Helen shared the secret, and was 
 asked to select and send an instru- 
 ment from New York as soon as 
 she returned. Flora already began 
 to dread the long winter, and yet at 
 times she thought she could endure 
 it the better if Helen were away. 
 That she had absorbed the un- 
 spoken love of her once dearest 
 friend was hard to reconcile. Had 
 not Helen all things else to make 
 life lovely ? Why must she have 
 taken from her the one joy her heart 
 craved ? Yet she admitted that no 
 blame could be attached to her.
 
 120 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 How could the man help loving 
 so beautiful and love-inspiring 
 a woman ? She recognized the 
 magnetic influence through the har- 
 mony of natural fitness, which had 
 drawn Clarence to Helen Lindsey. 
 
 Mr. Lindsey spent August in Sara- 
 toga, a custom of years' standing, 
 and the first week in September 
 found him at Harrow. He was 
 surprised at the delightful drives, 
 his family could pilot him over, for 
 they had fairly scoured that portion 
 of the country, and the improve- 
 ment in the looks of his daughter 
 made him very urbane; so much so, 
 that he proved a fascinating com- 
 panion to all whom he met ; but 
 still there was no question or men- 
 tion of his sister. 
 
 Helen had spent a portion of each 
 day with Allan, since he had re- 
 turned, looking more delicate and 
 frail than ever. She had exacted a 
 promise from his mother that should 
 he become worse after her depart- 
 ure, word should be sent to her. 
 She met Doctor Clarence but sel- 
 dom, for he arranged his calls so 
 that there would be little danger of 
 meeting the girl who had aroused 
 an interest he had never felt before, 
 and he was bringing all the force of 
 his will, toward conquering a pas-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 2 1 
 
 sibn which his understanding- of Mr. 
 Lindsey's character convinced him 
 would make his love a presumptuous 
 and unprofitable thing, to the world- 
 ly man. He knew that he had noth- 
 ing to offer such a favorite of fortune, 
 and he must hold back. He had a 
 future to carve out, and his profes- 
 sion was an arduous one. He hon- 
 estly tried to make an interest in that 
 fill his mind, while he chafed under 
 the monotony of a small circum- 
 scribed field for practice. 
 
 Doctor Sawyer saw that " his boy " 
 was restless and unsettled, and a fear 
 of coming change hung over the 
 devoted uncle ; but not a straw 
 would he place in the way ! Had 
 he not always suffered in silence ? 
 
 The late September days seemed 
 a symbol of the melancholy of his 
 future years. The growing cer- 
 tainty that his nephew would seek 
 another sphere for his life's work, 
 was almost .benumbing, through 
 the dread he experienced. 
 
 Helen met the senior doctor one 
 afternoon at Mrs. Varney's, and told 
 him that his old friend, and her own 
 as well, had written that he would 
 be with them in a few days, for a 
 short vacation. 
 
 "The motive, however, I am 
 sure, is to renew his friendship
 
 122 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 with you, and I am half jealous," 
 the girl declared. 
 
 Doctor Palmer's visit proved a 
 mutual pleasure. Helen's perfected 
 health was a "very large feather in 
 Dame Nature's cap," he said, little 
 thinking that a subtler power 
 within the heart other than he could 
 trace, had been at work to lift his 
 patient out of her "Slough of De- 
 spond." To ward Clarence the astute 
 man was forcibly drawn. 
 
 ' ' Would that such a son had been 
 given me," he thought, while to his 
 old friend he lamented because the 
 young cousin whom he had taken 
 into his family to fill the place of a 
 desired son, and had educated with 
 an eye to a medical course, and to 
 share his own practice, had failed 
 him. 
 
 "The old story, Sawyer, of 
 ' Mice and Men,' you know. The 
 boy set his heart upon civil engineer- 
 ing, and I had to give him his 
 swing. It is all right ; Bernard is 
 completing a splendid piece of work 
 in the west, but it was rough on me 
 to be disappointed in a successor." 
 
 Long talks with Clarence, who 
 drove the city physician over the 
 hills, for a glimpse of the choicest 
 bits of natural scenery, resulted in
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 23 
 
 the throwing of the social bomb, 
 which shattered the last expiring 1 
 hope in Doctor Sawyer's breast 
 that his dearly-loved nephew would 
 remain with him. Some one else 
 must receive his mantle when he 
 was called to lay it off, but he 
 bowed his head in acceptance, and 
 yielded to the proposition that 
 Clarence should become a partner 
 of his old friend, whose fame de- 
 servedly spread far and wide. To 
 the younger man, a career seemed 
 opening, worthy of struggle, and he 
 aspired to reach for the highest 
 rung in the ladder of success. 
 
 The beautiful autumn days went 
 rapidly by. September had been 
 exceptionally charming. The rich 
 purple of the aster, with the gor- 
 geous bloom of the golden rod, im- 
 printed everlasting pictures of beauty 
 in Helen's mind, to be, during all 
 her future years, associated with the 
 first conscious knowledge of her love 
 for Clarence Sawyer. 
 
 Sincere regret at leaving the hos- 
 pitable farm-house was evident in 
 every member of the Lindsey fam- 
 ily, who took their departure when 
 the brilliant foliage of the maple, 
 oak and elm, made the mountains 
 a mass of color dazzling in an effect 
 no human hands could reproduce.
 
 124 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 Two hearts beat in unison of use- 
 less lamentation over the going of 
 Clarence to New York, but Flora 
 had that buoyancy of spirit which 
 youth alone holds as a reserve force, 
 and her nature was too evenly 
 balanced to pine without a struggle 
 to reassert contentment. With the 
 man of long experience, however, 
 there seemed only the prospect of 
 loneliness, bleak and drear as a 
 winter landscape of barren trees. 
 John Sawyer had not fully realized 
 how far the plan for his nephew's 
 future connection with himself, had 
 overtopped all else. Looking back- 
 ward, his past appeared in this new 
 light as an arid waste, and he longed 
 for human companionship. Why 
 had he allowed the better part of his 
 life to run to waste, nursing a sorrow 
 of youth which had no rightful 
 place in his mature years. ?
 
 CHAPTER 
 X. 
 
 SUCH an in- 
 novation as 
 a piano gave 
 promise of happier days to Flora 
 Bates, who warmly appreciated this 
 expression of unusual generosity 
 on her mother's part, while the 
 latter experienced in turn that glow 
 of satisfaction, which invariably 
 follows a kindly generous act. 
 
 That October was never forgotten 
 by either Elias Bates or his wife, for 
 it opened a broader, fuller, life to 
 them. 
 
 Every day, when storms did not 
 interdict the visits of Flora to Allan 
 Varney, found her spending a few 
 hours with the boy who was slowly 
 but surely nearing his heavenly 
 home. Even Mrs. Bates became 
 deeply interested, and proved a 
 
 I2 5
 
 1 2 6 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 worthy friend when the nights of 
 excruciating pain made a kind neigh- 
 bor's helpful presence a blessing to 
 his overtaxed mother. Not a word 
 of comment did this unyielding 
 orthodox woman permit herself, 
 regarding Allan's peculiar power to 
 summon his friend to comfort and 
 help him. The utter abandonment 
 to this influence, and oblivion to the 
 presence of others, together with 
 the peace of mind produced, all were 
 inexplicable to her ; but no apparent 
 notice was taken by Mrs. Bates. 
 Whatever unusual conditions this 
 all aroused in her mind, she kept 
 strictly to herself, and Mrs. Varney 
 was duly grateful, that no rebuff or 
 argument, bom of misunderstand- 
 ing, troubled her boy. 
 
 At last the end came suddenly. 
 Helen had been summoned before 
 the change, and received the last 
 loving words from the gifted lad she 
 loved so dearly. 
 
 He spoke his father's name and 
 joined him, leaving upon the cold 
 mouth a smile, while his spirit fled 
 from the worn-out tenement it had 
 occupied for a brief time. Mrs. Var- 
 ney bore the separation with the 
 fortitude of one who kneiv that her 
 boy had entered life. Death could 
 only claim the clay.
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 127 
 
 Helen remained a while with her 
 aunt Lucy, and prevailed upon her to 
 leave her lonely cottage and go to 
 make a home with the Bates family 
 who gladly welcomed her. Good, 
 faithful Ann went with her. Mrs. 
 Varney had become much interest- 
 ed in the unfortunate Mrs. Green, 
 through Doctor Sawyer's sympathy 
 for the abused woman, and she of- 
 fered the warm cottage to her for 
 the winter, while Green was serving 
 a term in the penitentiary. The 
 woman lived in abject fear for her 
 life when her husband should be 
 released from confinement, for his 
 threat to "get even " haunted her 
 day and night. Finally, Mrs. Var- 
 ney promised to send her and her 
 child to the care of friends living 
 in the west, but enjoined great 
 secrecy. 
 
 Mr. Bates provided for the wants 
 of the little family throughout the 
 winter with a generous supply of 
 the products of his farm, even cut- 
 ing and hauling wood from his own 
 wood-shed for her use. Mrs. Green 
 felt that she was blessed indeed. 
 Her health improved, while the poor 
 sickly child grew stronger, and bid 
 fair, under medical treatment, to over- 
 come the nervous disease which af- 
 flicted her, except for the awful blight
 
 128 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 which brought a pang of horror, 
 with a recollection of her husband, 
 obliterating that earlier time in her 
 life, when, a bright energetic girl, she 
 had promised to love honor and obey 
 the man who had proven a human 
 brute, lower in his degradation 
 than a brute could descend. Mrs. 
 Green might have been happy, but 
 a withering sense of fear would con- 
 tract her very heart-strings when 
 she contemplated the future, should 
 she ever meet him. 
 
 Is there a curse bearing so deadly 
 upon humanity, as that which fol- 
 lows in the footsteps of intemper- 
 ance ? 
 
 Helen Lindsey returned to New 
 York with conflicting feelings. Her 
 father spoke of the brilliant season 
 before her, jokingly telling her, " To 
 make hay while the sun was shin- 
 ing." She shrank from the gayety 
 in prospect, with a growing dislike 
 for its monotonous routine of recep- 
 tions, teas and theater parties ; one 
 exactly a counterpart of the other, 
 the same people, the same sense- 
 less chatter which had hitherto filled 
 her world. 
 
 She was apathetic, out of tune 
 with the glare and tinsel of her
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 2 9 
 
 showy position, and seemed to have 
 no spring of action necessary to 
 mold herself on different lines, 
 She could not make a confidant of 
 her mother, for Mrs. Lindsey was 
 but an echo of her husband, and 
 would be terrified at any proposed 
 opposition to his will. 
 
 In spite of her dislike, Helen was 
 drawn more and more into the exac- 
 tions imposed upon her. 
 
 Fred Gordon had returned, and 
 lost no time in seeking her society. 
 Her beauty which was enhanced no 
 little, increased his passion for her, 
 and he was determined to have her 
 share his unlimited wealth, even tak- 
 ing a mental vow to turn over the 
 proverbial "new leaf" and live a 
 virtuous life ; which would last so 
 long, as his "love retained its novel 
 force. " 
 
 Mr. Lindsey's undisguised eager- 
 ness for the result began to appall 
 his daughter. She dreaded to avow 
 her feelings, and endeavored to op- 
 pose Mr. Gordon's attention in such 
 a direct manner that he would avoid 
 the offer of his hand. 
 
 One stormy evening Miss Lindsey 
 was not at home to callers, but 
 the servant brought her Mr. Gor- 
 don's card, and in reply to her cen- 
 sure, replied : 
 9
 
 130 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 " The gentleman insisted, for Mr. 
 Lindsey had told him that you were 
 in your room." 
 
 "Very well, I will go down." 
 
 For a moment Helen stood alone, 
 nerving herself for the crisis which 
 she felt was at hand. Mr. Gordon 
 must have seen her father. She re- 
 membered hearing a carriage stop, 
 a half hour before, and the outer door 
 close. She realized the bitter con- 
 test she would inevitably meet with 
 her father. 
 
 Very kindly but positively, Helen 
 declined the offer of marriage with 
 Mr. Gordon, who urged his suit 
 with all the ardor which a man 
 accustomed to success could com- 
 mand. How her friends could 
 envy her ! passed through her mind 
 while she listened to his persuading 
 plea. 
 
 Mr. Lindsey heard with acute 
 hearing, sharpened by suspense, 
 the closing of the front door and a 
 carriage driven rapidly away, as he 
 sat alone in his library where he 
 had been building the airiest of air- 
 castles for himself, when his daugh- 
 ter should become the rich man's 
 wife. . He grew anxious, and while 
 Helen passed the door on the way 
 to her room, he called her. 
 
 "Well, my daughter! I wish to
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 131 
 
 congratulate you upon a conquest 
 which will crown my most daring 
 ambition for you." He held out his 
 hand. 
 
 Helen sank on her knees at his 
 feet. 
 
 ' ' Dearest father, listen to me. I 
 do not love that man. I cannot, 
 will not marry such a man as I 
 know, as you know, Fred Gordon 
 to be." 
 
 ' ' What ! What do you say, girl ? " 
 and her father rose to his feet. 
 " Dare you tell me that you have 
 refused Gordon ? Speak ! " he fairly 
 shrieked in his excitement. 
 
 Helen stood up, firm and as erect 
 as a goddess. 
 
 " I have done so, and if you will 
 listen '' 
 
 ' ' Xo ! I will not listen, you sense- 
 less idiot, " and Helen's face blanch- 
 ed as she heard the torrent of wild 
 denunciation against her. Never 
 had she dreamed of the malignity of 
 her father's temper. His rage knew 
 no bounds, even of decency. His 
 daughter turned cold and faint, 
 with a stinging sense of outraged 
 affection. 
 
 " Know this, girl ! " and he stood 
 close beside her with outstretched 
 arm, but her eyes checked him, 
 "I am on the brink of financial
 
 132 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 ruin. I have spared you and your 
 mother the knowledge, counting 
 surely on this marriage for you ; 
 for I did not know that my daughter 
 was a FOOL ! The news in Wall 
 Street that the millions of Gordon 
 were coming into my family, would 
 have opened the way for me to 
 meet my obligations. I could have 
 bridged over the time, but now, 
 I am irrevocably ruined CURSE 
 YOU ! " 
 
 Helen turned and hastily left the 
 room where her enraged father 
 stood with a dangerous gleam in 
 his eyes. Were he ten times over 
 her. father, she denied his right to 
 insult her or trample upon her feel- 
 ings as he was doing. 
 
 For hours she walked her room ; 
 the news of the loss of their fortune 
 only touched her for her parents' 
 sake. She began to question if, after 
 all, it would not have been better to 
 have sacrificed herself. 
 
 What did it all amount to, this 
 life at best? She felt that almost 
 any condition would have been pref- 
 erable, to the feeling of disgust and 
 aversion toward a father she had 
 once loved. Her sensibilities were 
 so deadened that she even reflected 
 upon sending a re-considered ac- 
 ceptance of the abhorred suitor's
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER 1 33 
 
 proposal, when a remembrance of 
 Clarence Sawyer flashed athwart her 
 memory, and she reeled, and caught 
 hold of her dressing-table for sup- 
 port. 
 
 " God help me!" she cried, "I 
 could not ; better ruin, aye, death 
 itself than such immolation of soul 
 and body." The thought nerved 
 her to consider more calmly. Over 
 and over in her mind revolved the 
 most futile schemes. 
 
 She could not meet her father 
 while he cherished such bitter feel- 
 ing. She could not bear the tearful 
 reproaches which her mother would 
 heap upon her, for daring to oppose 
 that law which had governed her 
 own life since she became George 
 Lindsey's wife. Helen felt a thrill 
 of sympathy for her mother's lack 
 of personality, and wished she had 
 shown more consideration in many 
 ways. 
 
 The morning came, and the girl 
 with swollen eyes and throbbing 
 temples, threw herself upon her bed, 
 with a strange sense of comfort in 
 the thought that she was going to 
 be ill. When her maid came, word 
 was sent to Mrs. Lindsey that her 
 daughter had passed a sleepless 
 night, and did not wish to be dis- 
 turbed.
 
 134 DR - JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 Mr. Lindsey spoke no word of what 
 had passed to his wife. Her sympa- 
 thy with him, as in all other matters, 
 was a foregone conclusion, based 
 upon the training he had given her, 
 and he felt it would bore him now 
 with its commonplace platitudes. 
 The following days were a coun- 
 terpart, one of the other. 
 
 Helen did not breakfast with the 
 family : she was really ill with over- 
 wrought nerves, and the old in- 
 somnia had returned. Dr. Palmer 
 ordered perfect quiet at each visit, 
 and, while Mrs. Lindsey felt there 
 was some mysterious influence 
 shadowing them, she dared not in- 
 terfere. Her husband dined every 
 night at his club, for he could 
 not endure his home. A reaction 
 had followed, and the man was 
 hardly responsible for what he was 
 doing. 
 
 A week from the day he had sent 
 his daughter from him with his 
 curse, he left his house, feeling that 
 a crisis was impending. He knew 
 the time had come when nothing 
 short of a miracle could turn the 
 tide rising to engulf him. 
 
 The day passed even more dis- 
 astrously than his worst fears had 
 apprehended. He felt at times the 
 truth of the ancient belief.
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 135 
 
 " Whom the gods would destroy, they first 
 make mad." 
 
 Madness seemed the certain doom 
 to his overwrought mind. Events 
 precipitated upon each other in an 
 unlooked-for manner. Where time 
 had been expected to keep an in- 
 tervening bridge over the torrent, 
 instead a perfect cyclone of disaster 
 had poured into Wall Street. 
 
 Mr. Lindsey would see no one 
 but the harbingers of evil who flew 
 in and out of his private office. 
 When the wires had ceased their 
 work for the day, he left the build- 
 ing by a rear entrance, and was 
 driven to a down-town hotel, where 
 he dined alone unnoticed, and ob- 
 livious to those about him. His 
 brain was vibrating with discordant 
 perturbation; he scarcely could have 
 defined what was uppermost. One 
 minute a suffocating feeling of hatred 
 toward the daughter who once had 
 it in her power to have saved him 
 from this ; another, and a dull pain- 
 ful sense of having been the arbiter 
 of his own destiny, smote him with 
 a force benumbing all else. He 
 entered a cab at nine o'clock, and 
 went to his home, seeking his library 
 where a solemn silence reigned. 
 
 For hours he sat where, just one
 
 136 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 week before, it seemed to him a 
 generation ago, he had indulged in 
 such glowing prospects, through the 
 sure presumption that his daughter 
 would marry the millions awaiting 
 her acceptance, and thereby enable 
 him to reap a large harvest through 
 recent unscrupulous speculation. A 
 stronger will than his had changed 
 the current of events, and frustrated 
 his schemes. He realized, in all 
 its humiliating cost, the present im- 
 potence of his indomitable will and 
 arrogant pride. 
 
 A picture of his youth and man- 
 hood, with the contrasting one of 
 a dishonored and loveless old age, 
 glided panorama-like before his 
 mind's eye. 
 
 Would he prove strong enough, 
 or weak, according as the world 
 his world viewed it, to take the life 
 he began to abhor ? 
 
 He arose to summon the butler 
 to fetch him a bottle of brandy ; as 
 he touched the button a sharp cry 
 startled his wife, who was sitting in 
 the adjoining room, with a dread of 
 impending evil, yet not daring to 
 intrude upon him. 
 
 She heard a heavy fall. Before 
 she could reach him her husband 
 was stretched upon the floor, in- 
 sensible.
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 137 
 
 The distorted face told its story. 
 When Doctor Palmer reached the 
 side of the stricken man, a glance 
 sufficed to show him the truth. 
 
 "He will never be conscious 
 again," was the verdict of investi- 
 gation.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE numerous 
 social visits of Doc- 
 tor Sawyer had 
 proved a source of amused curios- 
 ity to the girl at the farmhouse. 
 Speaking of it one day to her 
 mother, Mrs. Bates replied with 
 characteristic bluntness : 
 
 " There's no tellin' what may 
 happen, but mind your own affairs, 
 child." And no further notice was 
 apparently taken of the doctor's 
 coming and going. 
 
 One blustering January morning, 
 he stopped on his way out into the 
 country, "to warm up," he said, 
 and stood by the large cheerful 
 stove in the sitting-room, talking 
 with Mrs. Bates, who had a growing 
 138
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 139 
 
 conviction that she was getting the 
 worst of an argument, when a tele- 
 gram was brought to Mrs. Varney 
 from Helen, announcing her father's 
 death, and begging her aunt to come 
 to them. 
 
 The news was a shock ! Mr. 
 Lindsey had seemed such a hardy 
 robust man, that it was difficult to 
 credit his stepping out from the 
 ranks of living men so suddenly. 
 
 They felt a sense of awful solem- 
 nity, in this striking down without 
 warning, of one in all the vigor of 
 manhood. Mrs. Varney, assisted by 
 the others, was soon in readiness, 
 and parted from these kind friends, 
 who seemed destined to share a 
 part of all her troubles. Her re- 
 turn would be uncertain ; she would 
 remain with her niece if needed, 
 until spring. Ann continued to stay 
 at the farmhouse. 
 
 Mrs. Bates often exclaimed, that 
 "she couldn't find enough to do, to 
 keep her out of mischief since the 
 Scotchwoman came." 
 
 When Doctor Sawyer left Mrs. 
 Varney at the station, he knew that 
 he was going to be more lonely 
 than ever. 
 
 For several days after her departure 
 he had difficulty in concentrating his 
 mind upon his work. Here was
 
 1 4.0 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 the needed lever to open his eyes 
 to the full understanding that he 
 loved this woman with all the fer- 
 vor of his earlier years, and his 
 mental processes were rapid in 
 evolving his future plans. 
 
 An intense desire to rebuild the 
 outgrown structure of his life, if 
 Lucy Varney could be induced to 
 share his home, took possession of 
 the practical man, whose heart was 
 filled with the image of the lovely 
 woman who had insensibly glided 
 into it. The haunting dread of 
 approaching age no longer loomed 
 up before him like the phantom ship 
 sailing ahead of the mariner. 
 
 Letters from New York were 
 frequent to Doctor Sawyer, " in an- 
 other handwritin' than Clarence's," 
 so said the village postmistress to 
 her better half. 
 
 None of the gossips knew why 
 the Doctor had bought the old Cox 
 place situated half way between the 
 village and Elias Bates's farm, and 
 when in the spring the house was 
 remodeled and "all cityfied up," 
 wonder grew apace. To one of 
 the most daring of the curious ques- 
 tioners he replied in an evasive 
 manner : 
 
 " After I get that place as perfect 
 as my means will allow me to make
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 4 1 
 
 it, I am going to hunt up the 
 happiest family I can find to live 
 in it." 
 
 When Mrs. Varney had reached 
 the imposing mansion where death 
 had made an entrance she found 
 her brother's widow sorrowful and 
 penitent : she implored forgiveness 
 for her neglect and cruel indiffer- 
 ence during the past summer. It 
 was freely given, and when the 
 harshly-treated sister stood beside 
 the silent body, that had contained 
 the hard and selfish nature, the 
 significance of George Eliot's words 
 occurred to her. 
 
 " When death the great reconciler 
 has come, it is never our tenderness 
 that we repent of but our severity. " 
 
 She felt only infinite pity for the 
 sure suffering his spirit would 
 endure in those dark shadows where 
 remorse stings like a serpent. Her 
 eyes had not rested upon her only 
 brother since the memorable day, 
 long years before, when he had 
 ruthlessly repudiated the tie of 
 sisterly love. 
 
 He had bidden her then to go her 
 way and now he had been sum- 
 moned to go his way alone, with 
 his life's work all unfinished. Who
 
 1 42 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 could straighten the tangled threads 
 torn from his hands ? 
 
 When all was over and Helen 
 braced herself to learn the worst in 
 regard to their affairs, it was found 
 that her father had been too heavily 
 involved to honorably allow his 
 family to retain their home, al- 
 though it had been purchased in 
 Mrs. Lindsey's name. The house, 
 furniture, horses, and all were turned 
 over to creditors. Even a bank 
 account in her name, which her 
 husband had placed there against a 
 time of need, Helen insisted should 
 be given for her father's debts, and 
 Mrs. Lindsey agreed to all that was 
 demanded of her. A substantial 
 life insurance still remained, and 
 would enable the little family to 
 live in a simple manner. 
 
 Mrs. Varney was a host in herself 
 to Helen. A cozy apartment was 
 hired in an unfashionable part of 
 the city and thither they removed. 
 Helen grieved sorely for her father 
 whose tragic passing out of life 
 would be a bitter memory for long 
 years to come, for the conditions 
 had been personally painful : yet she 
 well knew that the end had been 
 merciful. His proud spirit would
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 43 
 
 have illy brooked the " casting- 
 down from high places." 
 
 To Fred Gordon's credit, be it 
 said that his offer of marriage was 
 renewed, and he pleaded earnestly, 
 with the girl capable of such heroic 
 measures, to listen to his suit. She 
 could but yield a certain respect for 
 the disinterested loyal affection, but 
 she had no love to give him, and to 
 his pleadings for time to enable him 
 to win even a tithe of what he felt 
 for her, the answer remained no. 
 Helen felt a sense of satisfaction 
 that she could live independent of 
 the exactions of society. The friends 
 she valued the most remained faith- 
 ful and devoted. Out of the fire, 
 the true metal stood pure and un- 
 alloyed. 
 
 Clarence Sawyer had not visited 
 the Lindseys after his association 
 with Dr. Palmer had been consum- 
 mated, until their affliction came. 
 In order to keep his mind free from 
 useless experiments with his love 
 for Helen, he knew that a distance 
 must be kept between them, so he 
 had concentrated all his energies 
 upon the career so generously 
 opened. But the struggle was tell- 
 ing- upon him, and he acknowledged
 
 1 44 DR . JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 that his morbid feelings were not in 
 keeping with his own estimate of 
 his strength. Through his associate 
 he learned of the sad vicissitudes in 
 Helen's life and of her nobility of 
 character. He lost no time in 
 going to express his heart-felt sym- 
 pathy, while he could not refrain 
 from showing and speaking his un- 
 disguised admiration. 
 
 One evening he was calling at 
 the pleasant apartment, and the 
 conversation turned to Harrow. 
 Clarence related a piece of news 
 which Mrs. Varney already knew, 
 that a young physician had 
 located between that town and 
 Blackmore. 
 
 "I am right glad of it," he went 
 on to say, "for it will relieve Uncle 
 John of the more laborious portion 
 of his work. He has devoted the 
 greater part of his life to it, and 
 now needs assistance and leisure." 
 
 Helen chanced to look over to 
 her Aunt Lucy during the above, 
 and a light broke over her under- 
 standing. The rising color and ex- 
 pressive eyes of the absorbed list- 
 ener, bespoke a tenderer appreciation 
 for the senior Doctor's worthy self 
 than words could have done, and 
 the girl averted her eyes, feeling 
 that they had been guilty of the
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 45 
 
 rude possession of a well-guarded 
 secret. 
 
 Throughout the winter, Mrs. 
 Varney had found diversion in in- 
 vestigating the different order of 
 spiritualistic phenomena, and she 
 availed herself of all the opportu- 
 nities which a large city presents, to 
 do so. 
 
 Her own son's peculiar medium- 
 ship had assured her that there ex- 
 isted in some instances a controlling 
 action of a spiritual character which 
 proved the permanence of the 
 characteristic of the in dividual, after 
 the mortal change. She discerned 
 that a stronger interest was grow- 
 ing in the subject, and saw with 
 gladness, the evidences of increas- 
 ing courage to resist the pressure of 
 hostile opposition from those who 
 would not lend an ear to argument. 
 
 Her progressive mind enjoyed 
 looking for an enduring basis of im- 
 mortality not subject to the disso- 
 lution of the body or destruction 
 of individual character. Theosophy 
 presented nothing tangible to her 
 mind, for she could not penetrate 
 the fog of mysticism surrounding 
 it, although she attended the meet- 
 ings occasionally, in sympathy 
 with the fact that it assisted to 
 trample upon the gross materialism
 
 146 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 of the age, and routed the utter 
 want of reasoning in the plea of 
 the Agnostic, who puts intelligent 
 comprehension under the foot of 
 imbecility. 
 
 At one of the heterogeneous 
 assemblies, to which her insatiable 
 desire to see and hear all, led her, 
 she learned of a superior medium. 
 A few interviews resulted in a 
 friendship between the two. Mrs. 
 Litchfield was a woman of rare 
 refinement and tact, whose endow- 
 ment of trance conditions she did 
 not attempt to explain, upon any 
 metaphysical, or philosophical basis. 
 She simply said she knew no more 
 about it than her patrons. " It was 
 not sought by me, and I struggled 
 helplessly against its power until 
 forced by a chain of circumstances 
 to use what had been thrust upon 
 me by a stronger will than my own. 
 Every prop was removed, until I 
 humbled my pride to do the work 
 put into my hands. " 
 
 This was the universal reply to 
 the expostulations of her old friends 
 whose standard of social positions 
 floated only in the breeze of popular 
 opinion. 
 
 When Mrs. Varney had satisfied 
 herself that the lady was entirely 
 free from any professional cant, and
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 147 
 
 that her mediumship was a shrine 
 before which truth and honest 
 purpose stood guard, she obtained 
 permission from her sister-in-law 
 and niece to arrange for a sitting in 
 their home, at which Doctor Clar- 
 ence was invited to be present. At 
 the close of the interview Mrs. 
 Lindsey was sobbing, while all were 
 visibly affected by the undeniable 
 proof of a superhuman agency. 
 Doctor Clarence had hitherto been 
 skeptical and an animated discus- 
 sion followed the time during which 
 the guest had remained in a trance, 
 so genuine to the eye of the physi- 
 cian that he frankly admitted it. 
 The evidences of a primary intel- 
 ligence were startling, and the con- 
 ditions taken on too graphic to 
 allow any hypothesis other than 
 that of spirit control. 
 
 " But why, Mrs. Litchfield par- 
 don my bluntness do you require a 
 darkened room to go into this un- 
 conscious state ? " 
 
 "Ah. you think that savors of hum- 
 bug. Light is positive : could you as 
 easily give yourself up to the influ- 
 ence of sleep in a bright light, as in 
 a subdued one ? I really cannot 
 explain it, unless the magnetic 
 current is more active and I am in- 
 fluenced the quicker by semi-dark-
 
 148 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 ness. Some people are so positive 
 in their natures that they antagonize 
 this influence, and if I am enabled 
 to give them what is called a 'sit- 
 ting ' it may be so unsatisfactory 
 that they go away grumbling, ready 
 nine times out of ten to assert that 
 I only guess at things. I care not 
 how skeptical a person may be, if 
 only he or she, are willing to be 
 passive instead of trying to antag- 
 onize. Of course if it all depended 
 upon my own will, I could give each 
 and all what they wanted, but I am 
 only the instrument of what I 
 never attempt to define it acts 
 through me." 
 
 " One question more, Mrs. Litch- 
 field : why do you appear to be at 
 first controlled by an Indian ? 
 Although a beautiful young Indian 
 girl is not objectionable in an 
 aesthetic sense," laughingly inquired 
 Clarence. 
 
 " Doctor Sawyer, I cannot tell, 
 but my theory is, that the Indian 
 lives so near to the earth untrammel- 
 ed by any artificial condition that 
 his magnetism may be stronger. 
 What could be nearer truth and 
 purity than an exalted type of Indian 
 girlhood ? History recalls occa- 
 sional instances of the rarest types 
 of truth and honesty among them,
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. \ 49 
 
 revolting, as the Indian character 
 is in the aggregate. Their happy 
 hunting-grounds and their faith in 
 the Great Father, has its origin 
 through that Divine spark, which 
 leads the civilized world to yearn for 
 immortality. Naturally their souls' 
 sphere must be nearer the earth ; 
 Why could they not be permitted 
 then, to act as guides through a 
 stronger magnetism ? At times I do 
 not need such control, and often 
 reach the spirit-friends waiting to 
 give messages, without intervention. 
 
 ' ' This is not a pleasant side to me. 
 I awaken to find people in tears 
 often bitter grief, called out by their 
 experiences. The frivolous have 
 no use for my ministrations ; only 
 they who have suffered need the 
 consolation which spiritual com- 
 munion of this nature can give. 
 
 "Among my patrons is a clergy- 
 man upon whom sorrow has laid a 
 heavy hand, and he tells me that 
 what he receives of the evidence 
 that his dear ones are still with him 
 in their spiritual bodies, tends to 
 make him contented. 
 
 "I get nothing for myself it is 
 all given out to others ; but it seems 
 to be my mission as long as my 
 vitality holds out. " 
 
 "To me," Helen says, "the un-
 
 150 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 pleasant part would be contact 
 with coarse and overbearing peo- 
 ple. " 
 
 Mrs. Litchfield laughed. 
 
 " I certainly see some very un- 
 lovely phases of human nature, but 
 I never have any fear. My guides 
 take care of me, and I am often 
 warned, by impressions, in what 
 way to act." 
 
 ' ' Well, Mrs. Litchfield, I believe 
 you to be singularly gifted," said 
 Clarence. "The interest of an uncle 
 in this has instigated me to look 
 into it. I have many times heard 
 those who claim to be inspirational 
 speakers, and with one or two ex- 
 ceptions, have heard so many 
 errors in their talk that I have been 
 disgusted. 
 
 " Fancy Daniel Webster inciting 
 an address of faulty diction and in- 
 accurate construction, or Edwin 
 Chapin sending out the silliest trash 
 concerning the other life. If there is 
 anything in this, it should teach pro- 
 gression. The speakers whom I have 
 heard, evince such evident mentality, 
 rarely transcending their own method 
 of expression, that it would be 
 ludicrous to believe that they were 
 inspired by fluent, brilliant orators, 
 for the entire address has been 
 generally marked by a conspic-
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 1 5 1 
 
 uous absence of what would be the 
 personality of those, who, they 
 profess, govern them. I have been 
 interested in a work called ' Dreams 
 of the Dead' which might readily 
 be considered inspirational. There 
 is such an overwhelming quantity 
 of bombast thrown on the market, 
 that a man is filled with disgust 
 when reading the average book on 
 spiritualism. Now, you, Mrs. Litch- 
 field, have given me something to 
 stimulate investigation." 
 
 " I certainly knew nothing of 
 you," replied the lady, bowing to 
 the group, ' ' so what I have given 
 could not possibly spring from 
 any interior action on my part. 
 The human soul is a living, en- 
 during intelligence, and should 
 consistently be endowed with the 
 faculty to become en rapport with 
 the minds of those still living within 
 the confines of earthly limitations, 
 through intermediaries, who may be 
 used as agents, and through them, 
 awaken from the treasure-house of 
 memory, long-forgotten events, or 
 have the power to warn of impend- 
 ing trouble, through a flashlight 
 mental process, as evidence of the 
 agency of spirit power." 
 
 Clarence was in deep thought. 
 The silence was broken finally by
 
 152 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 his reference to Boehme, that 
 greatest of mystics, and he quoted : 
 
 "The soul is an evolving matter, 
 and may have had an eternal past, 
 quite as conceivable as the life it 
 shall continue in, after its earthly 
 period." 
 
 "I partly agree with him, for 
 everywhere, underlying all matter, 
 of which physical sense is con- 
 scious, is a world where the mind 
 is baffled, and scientists are foiled, 
 and I certainly believe that there 
 exists an invisible world, which no 
 visual or telescopic search can 
 reach, surrounding our physical 
 atmosphere, and which permeates it 
 everywhere. " 
 
 "Good ! " exclaimed Helen. " I 
 had no idea, Clarence, that you 
 were such a worthy disciple of Dr. 
 John Sawyer." 
 
 "Well, Helen, I have not arrived 
 at the point of satisfaction that he 
 has, and I am glad to have been a 
 witness to the intelligent tests given 
 this evening. What we have heard 
 is enough to convince me that there 
 must be more to follow, and I shall 
 look for truth on any line which 
 promises to be an honest exponent 
 of it ; for a man who does not for- 
 swear intelligence, is open to con- 
 viction. "
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 '53 
 
 Another meeting was arranged 
 for the ensuing week, and Doctor 
 Clarence took leave at the same 
 time with Mrs. Litchfield, to accom- 
 pany her to the cars passing her 
 own door.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MRS. VARNEY re- 
 mained with her relatives 
 until the spring weather was settled 
 in the country, when she returned 
 to Harrow with little Stewart in 
 her care. 
 
 ' ' Tell dear Mr. and Mrs. Bates, " 
 Helen said, when she parted with 
 her aunt at the Grand Central Sta- 
 tion, " that mother and I will be with 
 them the latter part of June. I shall 
 certainly suggest to them that they 
 call their home ' The Refuge ' 
 henceforth. " And from that day the 
 hospitable farmhouse in Harrow 
 was called by that name, by those 
 who found it such. 
 
 An exceptionally warm evening, 
 soon after the middle of May, 
 tempted the inmates of the "Ref- 
 uge," to open the windows. Master 
 Stewart, in a rebellious mood, had 
 been taken off to bed, and Mrs. Bates 
 '54
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 155 
 
 had repaired to the kitchen to set the 
 sponge for baking- the next morning, 
 a custom she had religiously retained 
 for her share of the family-cooking 
 in spite of constant remonstrance 
 from Huldah, who " couldn't see no 
 sort of use in Miss Bates doing that, 
 while she set around doin' nothin'. " 
 
 Mr. Bates had been reading his 
 weekly newspaper, which served 
 from the time of one issue until the 
 next for his evening reading. He 
 had followed the customary habit 
 of shutting his eyes for the "forty 
 winks," indulged in between the 
 paragraphs, and his gold-bowed 
 spectacles, a Christmas present from 
 Helen Lindsey, were slipping slowly 
 down his long nose, while the news- 
 paper had taken a sideward slide 
 from the relaxing hand and sprawled 
 upon the floor. His head, drooping 
 forward, caused long struggling 
 gasps for breath which ended in a 
 snore and bore evidence of more 
 than the "forty winks.'' 
 
 Flora put down the needle-work 
 on which she had been engaged and 
 sought the piano, playing too softly 
 to disturb Mrs. Varney, who sat at 
 a table reading a late magazine. 
 
 " Something in the air, summer's breath or 
 
 spring, 
 Touched the electric cord wherewith we are 
 
 darkly bound."
 
 156 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 The old-time airs fitted into the 
 girl's mood, and she was humming 
 the words of an old song, which 
 proved a safety-valve for awakened 
 memories, unheeded by Mrs. Var- 
 ney, who was so absorbed in reading 
 that she was unconscious of her sur- 
 roundings ; when suddenly, with a 
 shiver of terror, she raised her eyes 
 to the window opposite, to encounter 
 the glaring eyes of Asa Green. She 
 uttered an involuntary cry and 
 raised her arm, dodging her head 
 the instant that a flash and pistol- 
 shot followed simultaneously, and 
 her upturned arm received the ball 
 intended for her head. She sank for- 
 ward in a swoon. Mr. Bates, in- 
 stantly awake and alive to the 
 situation, rushed through the kitchen 
 calling upon Hiram, his man, to fol- 
 low him. 
 
 The faint light from the stars gave 
 but little help in the pursuit, and 
 when they reached the road, no sign 
 of the man could be found. A 
 hoarse cry for " help " in the neigh- 
 borhood of a large wood-pile back 
 of the house v.-os heard, further de- 
 fined by the fierce growl of old Hec- 
 tor who had joined in the search. 
 The unerring instinct of the brute 
 took him to the place where Green 
 had counted on crawling in, until 
 the search near the house had ended
 
 DA'. JOHN SA WYER. 1 5 7 
 
 "Take him off!" he shrieked, 
 with an inborn fear of the coward 
 for the bull-dog. 
 
 "Give me that pistol first, you 
 devilish brute," shouted Mr. Bates. 
 
 "I dropped it there," the man 
 pointed a few rods off, where lay the 
 murderous weapon shining in the 
 dim light. 
 
 By this time Huldah and Ann ap- 
 peared upon the scene, the former 
 armed with a huge pair of tongs, 
 caught up in a certainty that she 
 would need to defend herself. 
 
 The farmer collared Green, and or- 
 dered Hector off who stood trem- 
 bling with excitement ready to 
 spring again at any untoward action 
 of the man he had secured. 
 
 Hiram was despatched for the 
 Doctor and constable. Green was 
 limp from fear and pain. In attempt- 
 ing to beat the dog off, his hand 
 had been seized and frightfully 
 lacerated. Hector let go only to 
 fasten his fangs in the man's leg. 
 
 Doctor Sawyer found Mrs. 
 Varney's wound not serious ; the 
 ball had gone through her arm and 
 lodged in the casement behind her. 
 
 "Bad as it is, the result should 
 compensate you," the Doctor said 
 one day, " for this attack will settle 
 that worthless scoundrel for the rest 
 of his days."
 
 158 DR. JOHN SAWYER. 
 
 Upon his release from jail, when 
 Asa Green had found his wife gone, 
 upon whom he was raging to vent 
 his fury for the punishment he had 
 undergone, he turned the same ha- 
 tred to those who had befriended her 
 during his incarceration. When he 
 found that Mrs. Varney had been 
 instrumental in aiding the poor 
 woman to escape from his abuse, 
 he attempted to murder her. 
 
 In the grateful prayers offered by 
 Mrs. Varney for her escape from 
 sudden death, there was mingled a 
 consciousness that she had seen a 
 perfect vision of Allan standing be- 
 fore her the evening of the shooting, 
 which caused her to raise her eyes 
 in time to save her life by the move- 
 ment she was impelled to make.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE remainder of the 
 summer passed without 
 any further startling- event 
 for our friends at Harrow, 
 except an occasional escapade of 
 Stewart Lindsey, which culminating 
 one day in a daring act of diso- 
 bedience, resulted in Helen's gaining 
 her mother's consent to place the 
 boy in a strict military academy. 
 
 Clarence Sawyer visited his home 
 twice during Helen's stay in Harrow, 
 and to her life wore the brightest 
 outlook. 
 
 "All the world loves a lover," 
 and the intensity of the love which 
 crowned her life would grow, and 
 inspire growth through its own ca-
 
 160 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 pacity for giving, and new heights 
 would be reached, for the future 
 would never borrow from the past. 
 His uncle's approaching marriage 
 gave sincere satisfaction to Clar- 
 ence ; he told Mrs. Varney that she 
 had made him at rest with his con- 
 science, while his own life would 
 be the richer for her presence in his 
 home. 
 
 Helen obtained a promise from 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bates that their daugh- 
 ter should pass a portion of the next { 
 winter with her in New York, and 
 in the intervening time Flora so far 
 conquered the unhappiness of the * 
 year previous, that she could enter J 
 into all of Helen's plans with a * 
 genuine interest. What a year before 
 was acute pain, had been slowly 
 obliterated by the soothing hand of 
 time. Thus easily will a mind free 
 from morbid tendencies adapt itself 
 to the inevitable. 
 
 With a larger experience, Flora 
 discovered that the affection for her 
 early playmate and friend, had 
 grown into emotional action through 
 propinquity and congenial taste, 
 and partly from the "strong neces- 
 sity for loving." 
 
 Clarence introduced Doctor Pal- 
 mer's young cousin Bernard Hulse, 
 to his financee, and a case of "love
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 l6r 
 
 at first sight," followed the civil 
 engineer's meeting with Flora Bates, 
 We will not predict. However, the 
 girl found the world of art and music 
 more delightful for the presence 
 of her enthusiastic escort, and the 
 proverbial straws foretell the way 
 it will terminate. 
 
 Helen and Clarence were married 
 the following spring. 
 
 It would seem that their lives 
 must run in grooves of perfect hap- 
 piness ; but alas, the inevitable 
 crosses will meet them in unex- 
 pected places, and through their 
 endeavors to meet them bravely, 
 heir day and generation will be the 
 oetter for the part they hold in it
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 LET us take advan- 
 tage of our so-called 
 astral bodies, and pro- 
 ject them to a home in Harrow, new 
 to us, a home which bears the im- 
 press of refinement and a happy 
 personality in its every-day look. 
 
 All nature has quivered with joy 
 for the promise of a new bounteous 
 summer during the lovely June day 
 now drawing to a close. The last 
 echo from bird and insect declared 
 a participation in such perfection. 
 
 Misery and suffering would jar 
 upon one, as an inharmonious ele- 
 ment, yet the woman who sat alone 
 on the veranda of the house we are 
 viewing, waiting, where she was 
 almost hidden from sight by a climb- 
 162
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 163 
 
 ing rose-bush bursting into luxurious 
 bloom, knew that a scene of hideous 
 suffering existed not far away. 
 
 Dr. Sawyer had been summoned 
 hours before, to the factory at Black- 
 more, where had occurred one of 
 the accidents incidental to machin- 
 ery, and the man whose eyes had 
 witnessed all its ghastliness, vividly 
 different from the scene before us, 
 was late in coming to his home. 
 
 Mrs. Sawyer had watched the 
 sun decline in a haze of gorgeous 
 tints, blending with the clear azure 
 sky. The long twilight deepened, 
 and the gently-falling dew accentu- 
 ated the sweet fragrance of bloom- 
 ing plant and shrub. 
 
 Memory was active in the mind 
 of the waiting wife. Thought of 
 Allan was never quite absent from 
 his mother, and this night it ap- 
 peared a living, actual presence. 
 His utter helplessness had drawn 
 upon a deeper fund of the inexhaust- 
 ible love of a mother's heart than 
 health and strength could have 
 aroused, and the chain of events 
 connected with his last days re- 
 called reminiscences of the sweetest 
 nature. 
 
 The sound of a weary step com- 
 ing from the direction of the stable 
 recalled Mrs. Sawyer, and she went
 
 1 64 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 
 
 forward to greet her husband, whose 
 face with its tense lines, too plainly 
 showed her the sympathy he had 
 given in his afternoon's sad work ; 
 but no questions were asked, and he 
 retained her hand until they crossed 
 the threshold, where every thing bore 
 evidence of the loving, thoughtful 
 care which brightened his life, 
 when the strong lines faded from 
 his face into a look of restfulness 
 and grateful affection. 
 
 During supper his wife exerted 
 herself to divert his absent mind. 
 A morning visit from his still great- 
 est favorite, Flora, who was bristling 
 all over with recent happy plans, 
 failed to interest or divert him. He 
 made but a pretense of eating, and 
 sipped his coffee with a preoccupied 
 air. Ann solicitously passed one 
 tempting dish after the other with 
 the same result, and Mrs. Sawyer 
 finally shook her head to the faith- 
 ful servant, who departed to vent 
 her anxiety to the kitchen walls. 
 
 When supper had ended, the Doc- 
 tor followed his wife to the cosy 
 library where a rest-inviting couch 
 soon received the weary man. He 
 was not often disposed to talk over 
 the sad aspects of professional ex- 
 perience, but Mrs. Sawyer, with 
 fine perception, felt that he desired
 
 DR. JOHN SA WYER. 165 
 
 to speak of this late one, for she as- 
 sociated his preoccupied air with it, 
 Drawing a low chair to his side she 
 said, cheerfully, 
 
 "Tell me about it, dear. You 
 may be able to banish it afterward." 
 
 The Doctor waited a moment and 
 pressed his hand over his brow as if 
 collecting wandering thoughts. 
 
 "One man died under examina- 
 tion, leaving a family. I sent for 
 Emerson to pray with his heart- 
 broken wife another claim upon 
 your 'Aid Society/ Lucy. The 
 other has lost his good right arm, 
 amputation was necessary. For 
 him I feel very deeply. The man 
 is above his position and seems to 
 have been a foot-ball of Fate. An 
 invalid mother beside his own fam- 
 ily, is dependent upon him ! Can 
 you imagine, Lucy, a sadder outlook 
 than that poor man must face 
 to-night ? I have been thinking over 
 a way whereby we can provide for 
 the wants of the discouraged family, 
 while the bread-winner is helpless, 
 and when he gets upon his feet, put 
 him crippled though he will be 
 in a way to take care of his own : 
 but first, my dear wife, tell me, are 
 you willing to forego our proposed 
 trip which for months you have 
 anticipated so fondly ? The dream
 
 1 66 DR. JOHN SA WYE JR. 
 
 of my whole life seemed about to be 
 realized, and its happiest days at 
 hand and you ? " 
 
 He looked intently at the face 
 reflecting sympathy and soulful 
 appreciation back at him. 
 
 ''Willingly, dearest, yes, gladly, 
 if it will enable you to do what you 
 consider your highest duty help- 
 ing a fellow-man." 
 
 Mrs. Sawyer left her seat to close 
 a window through which the cool 
 night-wind was blowing over her 
 husband. Stooping, she gave him 
 the caress he so dearly prized, say- 
 ing softly to herself 
 
 " And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the 
 rest."