THE MISER'S DIAMOND NECKLACE.

Timaru Herald, Volume LI, Issue 4936, 8 September 1890, Page 4

THE MISER'S DIAMOND NECKLACE.

In fee year 1740 there m the Latin quarter m Paris, a famous miser named Jean Avere. The wealth concealed m the obscure rookery where he resided was believed to be fabulous, and wbb no doubt very great. Amone his treasures was a celebrated diamond necklace of immense value. '1 his he ooncoaled so carefully that he ultimately forgot its hiding place himself. He Bought diligently for weeks, and, failing to find it, became almost insane. This rendered him even less capable of remembrance, and he took to his bed broken m body as m mind. A few weeks later a doctor and an old woman, who had sometimes done odd jobs about his house, were both at bis bedside, seeing that the end was near. Ab the olock m the neighbouring tower tolled one he ceaßed his low muttering and sat up and shrieked, " I remember where it is now. I cao put my hand on the necklace. For God's sake let me go for it before I forget it again ! " Here his weakness and excitement overcame him, and he sank back among his rags, stone dead. Physicians and students are familiar with theso sudden outflashings of memory at the pieat crisis ol human fate. Let the reader consider this while we relate an episode m the humble career of a Signalman, Andrew Agge, who may be found on duty m hia box at Culgaith.a little station or the Midland, twenty three miles south oi Carlisle. Mr Agge ifl on doty nearly ovory day, and mußt break his fast without leaving his post. The confinement and mental Btrain tell on the system. The strongest man cannot stand it long without feeling its effects. It make! one think of the passionate exclamation m Tom Hood's " Song of the Shirt," " Ob, God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap." Our friend had been at the same work for many years, although he was only thirty- five when these lines were written. In 1884 he began to feel that ho was about to break down. " I don't know what ails me," he would say, " but I can't oat." What he forced down produced no sense of satisfaction or strength. Sometimes he was alarmed at finding he could scarcely walk on account of giddiness. He said to himself, " What if I should be seized with this at some moment when there is trouble on the line, and I need all my wits about me ?" Other features of this ailment were pains m the chest and sides, costiveneeß, yellow skin and eyes, bad taste m the mouth, risings of foul gas m the throat, etc. The doctor said Agge must give up his confining work or risk utter disability. He could not. Wife and children were m the way. So he remainad at his post and grew worse. But hi» work was alwajs right, telegrams were properly received and Bent ; and no train got into trouble through any neglect or fault of his. His disease —indigestion and dyspepsia— took a step further, and brought on kidney and bladder trouble. The doctor, at Appleby, said, "Mr Agge, you are poisoned with the foul stuff m your stomach and blood.' 1 His doom seemed to be sealed. It was like a death warrant. Six months more rolled by. On duty one morning he was attacked with bo great and so sharp a distress he could neither sit nor stand. He sayß : " I tumbled down on that locker and lay there all the forenoon. Signals might be given, the telegraph needle might cliok, but I heeded them no more than a man m the grave heeds tho beating of the rain against hit own tombstone." He was alone at first, but help arrived, and the poor signalman was carried home. Physicians laboured on hia case without avail. Around his bed were his five little children, the mother being absent m an institution, to be treated for a serious ailment. Here he lay for wooks, part of tho time unconscious. Nothing was to be done but to wait for the end. Then the torpid faculties awakened for a moment. Memory flashed, up, and he recalled the fact iliat a -medicine which he had used with benefit yean before and then thrown aside and forgotten, was concealed m a secret place at the signal box. He sent for it and took a dose. Soon hiß bowels moved, tbo kidneys acted, tho pain was ceased, he felt better. With brightened hope he sent to Carlisle for more. It arrived. Ho used it, and m a few daya the doctors were astonished to find their patient out of doors, and on the road to recovery. He regained his health completely, and, m speaking of hig experience, «aid to the writ*! 1 , " What a wonderful thing it was that, on whßt promised to be my death-bed, I suddenly remembered where I had put that halfused bottle of Mother Beigel's Curative Syrup. That flash of memory probably saved me from death."