His Only Wish.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IX, Issue 471, 19 November 1878, Page 7

His Only Wish.

Some months ago a fond father imagined that his only son, a young man of 20, was going into consumption. A doctor was consulted, and he advised that the son be put through a course of gymnastic training. The young man seemed to like the idea, and for two or three months he ■Was in daily attendance at a gymnasium. Then he began to grow careless, and finally quit it altogether. The father thought he could see signs of failing health again, and to induce the son to go hack to rings, bars, and gloves once more, he fitted up a private gymnasium in the barn, and began a course of exercise himself. The other morning, he remembered that he used to be a boxer in his younger days, and remarked that he’d give the son a few lessons. He was balancing himself on his heel and feeling out With both hands, when something hit him, and half a minute afterwards he dimly realised that someone was bending over him, and saying, “ Father dear father, are you dead ?” He sat up, looked around, and hoarsely inquired, “Jim, what on earth happened ?” Why, father, I got in a love tap on your nasal—-just a little feeler, to see if you were solid on your pins.” “Didn’t you strike as hard as you could?” “No—not half—not a quarter. It was what the boys call “feeling for claret.” Your nose will spring back into position in less than half a day.” The father got up, let the gloves fall from his hands, and as he caught the trapeze to steady his legs, he said, “ Jim, your mother and I thought you were going into consumption, and Doctor he backed us up in it. That is why I sent you to learn gymnastics. Jim, I’m a your mother is an awful good woman, and if we can get the doctor tip here long enough to let you “ feel fot his claret,” I don’t care how soon I die !”