THAT ROUSED HIM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2769, 26 March 1910, Page 1 (Supplement)

THAT ROUSED HIM.

The boy’s ej’es were closed, and all attempts to rouse The physician had watched by the bedside for half ah hour without success, and finally announced that tlie only hope of saving his life was to rouse him from his stupor.'/ ‘‘Cannot some'/ of you induce him to make some exertion ”he asked. “We can do nothing /unless we can make him do something for himself.” Then the-boy’s pnotlier went to the bedside and pleaded with him to rouse himself for her sake, but there was not even a motion of "the muscles of the face to show that be heard. She told him how much shehvould do for him, and what nice times they would have when he got well, blit he did not stir. The father spoke' of buying him a pony and a little shot-gun, but he did not seem to understand. Even the mention of a circus and a pantomime passed unheeded, and he gave up in despair. 1

Then the sick boy’s -little brother crept to the bedside, and said softly: “Eddie, the people who lived in that big house up the avenue, with the lot of windows and the greenhouse, havo moved, and the place is empty.” The eyes slowly opened, and the little brother went on exultantly: “All the boys is going there Monday to shv some stones through the windows.” “Who gets first crack at ’em?” asked the sick boy feebly. “You do,” replied the little brother. “The boys give you first shy ’cause you can throw straighter than any of ’em.” “Jupiter! I’ll make the people as owns that house think there’s been an earthquake!” exclaimed the invalid boy. trying to sit up in bed. “My! won’t we have fun,; though 1” “He’ll live!” cried'-the doctor joyfully, and tho little brother-was taken out and feasted orri.pie and tarts until he was well-nigh ill. ' “SMART.” “I had always heard that New Englanders wore ‘smart,’ ” a young physician who has “graduated” from a village practice remarked the other day, “but I hardly thought it developed at such an early age. “Just after 1 settled in Dobbs Corners a twelve-year-old boy called on me one evening. “ ‘Say, Doc. I guess I got measles.’ he remarked, ‘but nobody knows it ’ceff»t the folks at home, an’ they ain’t the kind that talks. _ if there’s any good reason to keep quiet.’ “I was puzzled, and I supposo I looked it.

“ ‘Aw, get wise: Doc,’ my small visitor suggested. ‘What will vou give me to go to school an’ spread it among all