al intelIigenff {

Rev. ]. 7. WARD, Assistant Editor.

PRICE ONE CENT.
{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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his high-trobbing pulse For an instant a


CLEAN Of surprise shot from his eyes, and


then his features saddened, and he heaued
4 deep-drawn breath. ssNhat ails him,
doctor!n exclaimed the anxious father,
while the mothers countenance, expressive
Of the most agonizing suspense, was bent
in soul-watching gaze upon The doctors
face. "He has the yellow fever, replied
the physician, in tone in which the voice
of hope spoke not " the yellow fever in


its worst form.n "Oh, Doctor, say you
can save him-you will save him, will you
noiS" burst from the mothers lips. The doc
tor answered in the same hopeless yoicss 81
will do all, madam, that my art can accom-.
plish, but this is a disease which oftentjmes


battles our most energetic efforts, and this,


/ am sorry to say, Is one Of the worst cases.
/ will do all that can, however" But


there was no hope in his voice, and saw
very plainly that he knew all his efforts


would be in vain. He did all that his art
allowed, but towards morning, with the
most soul-rending torture, the little suffer-
er breathed his last. i looked upon, the
fathers face, as he gazed upon the livid
cheek of his dead boy, and asked, 4"Where
was that fathers joyous countenance them"
Alas! the pain Of a fathers blighted affsc-
tion had stamped its impress upon his brow,
and in his fearless eye melancholy shone
that spoke too truly of the bleeding heart,
the joyless, careworn spirit. When the
sufferer closed his eyes in his last sleep, a.
a shrek, a piercing scream, such as only
the mothers hopeless voice could utter