Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1859-04-22
The JOY of our household had departed

as agent tor manufacturing company
which required travel in Vermont and
Canada. In the course of this tour, one
cold day, in winter-so cold and stormy
that travelling was impracticable, | found
myself laid up at Dodge's with fair
prospect of a weeks stay-and to tell the
truth | rather liked the idea. | had in
my travels become more addicted TO the
ardent, and as was the lion of the place,
the rich stranger who was so liberal
with his treats, found time pass swiftly
and, blush to own it now, Sir, pleas
antty. The storm continued for three
days without intermisiou-one of those
cold northwestern blows, and snow
storms, that leave the snow piled in huge
drifts-or wreathed fancifully into shapes
of wondrous beauty.
In the evening of the third day, lit
tie girl thinly clad, and benumbed with
cold, came softly into the bar-room, and
snuggled in between the great stove and
the wall. l was not as yet, thank heaven!
hardened to look upon suffering unmov-
ed-and instinctively felt an interest in
the little stranger from the moment that
saw her, and my interest was greatly
enhanced, when | noticed that she timid-
ly shrank from observation, and seemed
Iintently watching for some one. | div
ined at once that she was an angel of
mercy, sent by some lonely suffering
mother, to persuade home some drunken
reveler from this miserable den of death!
Drawing my chair up close to the great
stove, and speaking as kindly as possible,
l asked her to come to me.
Don't, don't, please don't whip me
SIR said the little thing, sobbing-
No, my little dear, I wish to help
you. What are you here for this cold
night !?
Please, sir, to find Pa
Is your Pa here, my little one, tell
me which is your PAP
l can't see him, sir, but ma told me
to come and tell him that she was dy-
ing
Your mother dying, where does your
mother live-when did your pa go away
from home
%, great while ago, sir, I don't know
how long. But am going back. W,
hain't got no fire, and nothing to eat, anC
: ma is cold
{ Wait, little one,' said I, and sittin:
1 her down behind the stove, l pushed int
room adjoining, where few minute
before | had seen Dodge enter, an,
where / found that parsonage engages
in assisting bIeared and bloated indivi
dual to dress.
Mr.. Dodge said |, there is a littl
girl in the bar-room who has come to ge
her father
!, Tell her TO 90 home,' said the drunk
en- wretch whom Dodge was assisting.
That Uoiee
No, | was not mistaken Time an
intemperance had not been able who'll
to change it. had heard it when
inspired happier feelings, but could M
be mistaken, it was the same voice still
The drunken wretch--who | afterwarC
ascertained had been dead drunk fC
= three days, was George Dane.
The true situation of affairs fashe
upon my mind at once. pictured
: myself, Alice, the wife of wretche
= drunkard, suffering. perhaps starving
a this very moment. and l so near. toe
90 the little girl in my arms, and walk,
out into the cold night air.
ID. Where do you live, my little on
ne said l, j am going home with you
a see your mother
ne o, ma will be glad, she's so cold al
i'd hungry; will you please, sir, give I
As. something to carry to ma to eat 2
X hastened back and filling my pock
,us with cakes and crackers, returned, a
no taking the child in my arms, push
no through the snow in the direction ins
Gated by the child, to her home. A
al such home! 0, that man should
1r- so low ] We opened the door and ent,
De- ed. Ali was dark, and still. and cold.
ere Not breath to tell that a human bel
in inhabited the place, nofeeling of warm
Use nothing but cold, dark silence But I
ess child ran to one corner Of the miseraI
for hut, exclaiming,
ice o ma, ma, wake up The man b
les brought you something to eat; D
for won't you wake . and she sobbed as
'es- her little heart would break. She c.
iad tinued talking in this strain to her mo
,th- er, making all kinds Of endearing Iii
- speeches to wake her, and telling
lad that they would have some supper d
and Ma. ma, don't you want 10