But even this terrible proof of despair
failed to soften his brother. He seemed to regard the attempt at
suicide simply as a crime calculated to bring harm to religion. Though
snatched from the lake to his bed, poor Charlie lived only a few days
longer. A physician who was called when his health first became
seriously impaired reported that he was suffering from Bright's
disease. After all was over, the stoical brother walked over to the
neighbor who had saved Charlie from drowning, and, after talking on
ordinary affairs, crops, the weather, etc., said in a careless tone:
"I have a little job of carpenter work for you, Mr. Anderson." "What
is it, Mr. ----?" "I want you to make a coffin." "A coffin!" said the
startled carpenter. "Who is dead?" "Charlie," he coolly replied. All
the neighbors were in tears over the poor child man's fate. But,
strange to say, the brother who had faithfully cared for him
controlled and concealed all his natural affection as incompatible
with sound faith.
The mixed lot of settlers around us offered a favorable field for
observation of the different kinds of people of our own race.
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