“Well, do you feel any better?” asked Charlie, as Narcisse entered the room again.

“Oh, yes,” replied Narcisse, puffing out his chest.  “Dat fresh air do me all de good in de world.”  And Charlie never guessed!

* * * * *

A Strange Presentiment.

While this strange story is fresh in my memory, I am writing it, just as it was told me by my friend George B——­, who a few years ago was general manager of a well-known Canadian railroad.  I had known George for years, and had been superintendent of the same road.  He told me the history of his life one beautiful night in June as we were seated in a sleeping car en route for Montreal.  For the first time I knew why he had never married, a problem that had cost me many conjectures.  The story is founded on a presentiment.  Presentiments are difficult things to analyze, but for my part I believe the tale, and am content to let the reader use his own judgment in the matter.

“I began my railway career,” commenced George, “on the Old Colony R.R., as operator at Shirley Junction, which at that time was one of the most important crossing points on the whole road.  Poor Herbert Lawrence, who plays such a tragic part in this story, was the day operator.  It was at Shirley Junction that I met Julia Waine, the station agent’s niece.  She was a singularly beautiful girl, and naturally it was her beauty that first attracted me; but her intelligence and sympathetic nature were the loadstones that drew my heart to her as I came to know her better.  A week after I arrived at the Junction, the agent gave a party in honor of Julia’s birthday, and Herbert and I were among the invited guests.  Julia looked very beautiful and sweet, as she welcomed us in the quaint little parlor over the telegraph office.  I had not been in the room ten minutes before I discovered that Herbert Lawrence loved Julia as unselfishly as I did.  Herbert, who was a gentlemanly fellow, was, on account of his intensely nervous disposition, ill-adapted to the work of an operator.  He was extremely sensitive, and had a painful habit of blushing that at times made him look almost ridiculous.  He knew his failing, and it was pitiful to see his struggles for self-command.  All the evening he sat in a corner of the parlor, like a faithful dog, content to watch the being he so dearly loved.  Once or twice during the party I saw Julia go over to where he was sitting and speak to him, and from her manner I knew his love was not returned.  When shaking hands with her at the close of the party I heard him say, ’I hope I may be at your next birthday party.’

“’I hope so; I shall then be twenty-one, and I am beginning to feel quite old already,’ she replied brightly.

“Her next birthday party!  God wisely hides the future from us!  I had been at the station a little over six months when the adventure that I am about to relate occurred.  November, 1873, ushered in weather that railway men heartily dislike.  All day a cold rain had fallen, coating the rails with a thin layer of ice.  Drivers of express trains had their work cut out to keep on time, while freight trains straggled in at all hours.