Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-70.djvu/142

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132
New Samaria

When the driver appeared with a good-looking horse and buggy he was distinctly drunk. I tried to find the landlord; he was absent. A sympathetic bystander said the road was plain, better to drive myself. Dismissing my driver, I received a pretty clear statement that I was to follow the main road to the bridge, which was under repair. Then I was to turn to the left and go along the river road to another bridge a mile away. After that it was a plain road, "no fellow could miss it."

As I was about to get into the wagon a tall man touched my arm, a liberty I always dislike. He began to tell a woful tale of how he was out of work, never had begged, would I—and so on. I said, "Oh, go and get work. I never give to beggars."

He said,—and I thought it queer,—"I wish to thunder I hadn't asked you."

He did look pretty well used up, but I was still in a state of vexation about my baggage, and so I got in and drove away. I was saluted at the hill-top by a pack of fire-crackers, and that and the poor devil's face were the last things I remember.


When I was re-born to slowly improving consciousness it was to recognize the place I was in as new and the light as dim. I recall my first puzzle as to whether it was morning or evening. I concluded that the change of light would soon tell me, and was pleased at my own intelligence. By degrees the light increased, and with it the knowledge of my condition. My head was bandaged and I was now and then a little giddy, especially if I turned over in bed. My right hand also was bandaged. By degrees I saw that I was in a large, white-washed room in one of six beds. It was close and not over clean. My pillow smelt horribly. Two other patients were snoring. By and by came a young woman neatly clad in gray linen. She said, "Oh, you are better; how do you feel?"

I said feebly, being still rather dazed, "Thank you, I am very weak and giddy."

"Well, you are out of danger, the doctor says. You have been very bad."

"Pardon me," said I, "are you the nurse?"

"Yes."

"May I ask your name?"

"Why, yes; my name's Jane Wright."

"And I am in—well,—in—a—hospital?"

"Yes, but here's the doctor. I will fetch your breakfast pretty soon."

The doctor was young and, as I found, positive. I was becoming curious, and was beginning to feel a little more secure of my power to think and to speak.