The telegraph lines had been thrown down in the storm, and it was two days before word could be sent and the débris cleared away so that trains could come from the west. The little German doctor who had set my bones while I was unconscious, and had left medicine for us all, did not appear but once or twice after the first call, for there were a score or more of poor, maimed creatures, some of them his own countrymen, who needed him even more sorely than we. What would have become of us during those three days of partial unconsciousness and suffering and impatient waiting for our friends if it had not been for “Jim”! Jim was a character. Not even the pain could so wholly banish my sense of humor as to prevent my seeing that. I could not learn whether there was a woman in town or not, but I afterwards heard that Jim had let it be understood that he was commissioned by the “boss” to be his sole attendant, and warn every one else to keep his distance. Half a dozen times a day the big, freckled, red-haired fellow creaked up the stairs in his stocking feet, bringing water and gruel and bouquets of gorgeous nasturtiums and crimson phlox from his little garden patch across the way. Jim had an eye for the beautiful, and thought it a pity that we should have nothing better to look upon than the long rows of sombre books which lined one side of the walls and formed Mr. Everett’s library. Accordingly the poor man had stripped his own bachelor premises of all the precious adornments sent him by his sweetheart for the last three Christmases. There was a gilded sugar-scoop tied with pink ribbons, and a remarkable landscape painted on the concave surface of the interior. There was also a rolling-pin with a covering of French blue plush, adorned with gilded handles, and bearing on its surface a large thermometer surmounted by a gilded spread eagle. These were especially devoted to my benefit, for which I was duly appreciative. Over Mildred’s bed was hung a “God Bless Our Home,” wonderfully worked in the national colors; and beside Mr. Everett’s sofa was placed a gilded milking-stool of convenient height for holding vials and glasses, the legs artistically interlaced with scarlet ribbons, and the seat decorated with a painting, whether of Vesuvius in eruption or a dish of crushed tomatoes, I was never quite sure. From the low window near which my bed was drawn Jim proudly pointed out to me his own quarters opposite. The house was an unpainted wooden structure of one story, and evidently possessed a slanting roof with gables, though the architect had erected a sham façade which gave the appearance, when one took a front view, of a house with a flat roof. Extending across the whole front of the house was a sign of unique character painted in black on a pink ground, of which I subjoin an exact copy.