It was at Wagga Wagga, in Australia, noted as the residence of the once-famous Tichborne claimant, that Patty was taken ill, caused by over-exertion in the ring, and a doctor who was called imperatively forbade her proceeding any further. The circus was then on its way to Sydney from Melbourne, overland, and as the vessel on which the return journey was to be made was due to sail on a certain day the management was compelled to leave Patty behind to follow on later. With the circus went the contemptible wretch who was the cause of her undoing, and when Old Props, who remained to take care of his darling, told poor Patty of the fellow’s heartlessness, she gave a great gulp and then hid her face on the old man’s breast and cried as she had never cried before. Her whole pitiful story was unfolded in that bitter, heartbroken wail.
Patty was very ill for many weeks, during which time Old Props was her sole and constant attendant. But the girl never rallied, and when her baby was born, long after the circus was back in the States, she had barely strength left to turn her head to gaze at the innocent mite. It was a poor, weak, sick specimen, that lived for a few days only, and then its light went quietly out with scarcely a perceptible struggle. There were no tears in Patty’s eyes when her dead baby was lifted to her face by the kind sister to receive a farewell kiss, but when Old Props returned from the sad task of laying the little one away he was alarmed at the ghastly change in Patty’s pinched, wasted features, and realized that in a few days at the farthest she would rejoin her babe.
THE DEATH-BED.
Poor, ignorant little Patty! Surely her sin will not be visited on her head in the great hereafter, but rather on the one who deliberately led her to ruin. She lies in the quiet little cemetery adjoining the English church at Wagga Wagga, in the same grave with her baby, a plain white stone erected by her heartbroken guardian marking the spot where she is at rest. As for Old Props, he will never go out with the red wagon again.
What He Thought.
“Sometimes,” sighed the man who is wedded to a woman with a mind of her own, “I think my wife must take me for a pneumatic tire, the way she is blowing me up all the time.”—Boston Transcript.
Thought She Was Safe.
Judge—Your age?
Lady—Thirty years.