108 THE APRIL FOOL.

 

were made. The doctor sighed, under the
pressure of disappointment, as he glanced at
the timepiece on the mantel, the hands of
which pointed to the figure ten.

“A poor prospect here,” he murmured
despondingly. “ Ah, if there were none in
the world to care for but myself, I would be
content on bread and water while making
my way into the confidence of the people.
But others are suffering while I wait for
practice. What hinders my progress? I
understand my profession. In not a single
instance yet have I failed to give relief,
when called to the bed of sickness. Ah me!
I feel wretched.”

Just then, the letter-carrier of the vil-
lage came in and handed him two letters.
The first one he opened was from a dearly
loved, widowed sister, who wrote to know
if he could possibly help her in her poverty
and distress.

“T would not trouble you, my dear, kind
brother,” she wrote, “knowing as I do

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