thing to be deplored, as it kept him thin and nervous. I tried to
moderate this propensity, but with no result. Anderson could not be
trusted with horses, or, indeed, with animals of any kind, for he made
them as nervous as himself; but in all other kinds of work he was the
best man ever at Four Oaks. He worked for me nearly three years, and
then suddenly gave out from a pain in his left chest and shortness of
breath. I called a physician for poor Anderson, and the diagnosis was
dilatation of the heart from over-exercise.

"A rare disease among farm-hands, Dr. Williams," said Dr. High, but my
conscience did not fully forgive me. I asked Anderson to stay at the
farm and see what could be done by rest and care. He declined this, as
well as my offer to send him to a hospital. He expressed the liveliest
gratitude for kindnesses received and others offered, but he said he
must be independent and free. He had nearly $1200 in a savings bank in
the city, and he proposed to use it, or such portion of it as was
necessary. I saw him two months later. He was better, but not able to
work. Hearing nothing from him for three years, a year ago I called at
the bank where I knew he had kept his savings. They had sent sums of
money to him, once to Rio Janeiro and once to Cape Town. For two years
he had not been heard from. Whether he is living or dead I do not know.
I only know that a valuable man and a unique farm-hand has disappeared.
I never think of Anderson without wishing I had been more severe with
him,--more persistent in my efforts to wean him from his real passion.
Peace to his ashes, if he be ashes.

That same day I telephoned the Agricultural Implement Company to send me
another wagon, with harness and equipment for the team. The veterinary
surgeon reported that he had a span of mares for me to look at, but I
was too much engaged that day to inspect the team, and promised to do so