The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1865-12-24

"HopEDALE I"
By .. AxNrs FROST.

tors voice rang through the cars, and, taking
my carpet bag, sprang ont upon the platform
of the little saation. Ny brief holiday was
over, and, with shrug, l prepared fot my
short walk through the morning air, looking
forward to the good and delicious cup OF
coffee was sure Mrs. Watson was keeping
for me. s M%
1t was . very rare event for me to leave
the little village whose name heods this stoTy.
Ny father had been the only resident rhysi-
clan there, from the time when l was bois.
ferrous school-boy, up to the hour when, in
his professional rounds, he fell dead with heart
disease in the main street, leaving me, his
heretofore assistant, sole heir to his name,
property and practice. Ten years before they
had carried my dear mother to the little
churchyard, and installed Mrs. Watson house.
keeper in her place. The villagers were will
| ing to let the young doctor step into his faith
er's place beside their sick beds, and 80 for
| Eve yeasr had filled his duties. In oil those
FIVE years had taken no holiday, 90 when
| an invitation came from my oldcollege friend
and since correspondent, Clement Payne, to
spend Christmas with him ut his father .
| place on the Hudson, was sorely tempted to
accept, and finally concluded to do so. 1t
| was literally Christmas / spent, leaving home
at midnight on the oath, and arrived Al my
friends house exactly twenty-four hours
after. 1t had been pleasant break
in the monotony of my life, as ! stood
at sunrise on the Hopedale station platform,
was sure my recreation would give me new
| vigor for my daily duties.
| As turned to descend the steps leading to
the road, some impulse, nay Providence, led
me to look in at the window of the room, by
| courtesy "Ladies' ROOM of the station. 1t
| was cold and desolate. No fire was lighted,
and there was no furniture, unless the hard,
wooden benches against the walls could be 90
denominated. But curled up on one of these
benches, sleeping soundly, lay strange child.
His dress of rich fur-trimmed velvet. the
warm fur cap, long CATERS and mittens, spoke
Of wealth and care. and his pale face, rbund
which clustered short curls Of sunny brown,
was round with health and wonderfully beau
tiful. He was no Hopedale child knew
them all. Ny professional instinct made my
heart thrill with sudden shock, as / caught
sight of the pale face, for well l knew the
danger Of that deep sleep in the biting winter
air. How long had he been there !? Was he
already dead? We're the questions ! asked
myself as strobe across the room and Lifted
him in my arms. There WAS no breath came
from the white lips. no throb at the waist, only
faint, very faint autering under my fingers
| as pressed them over the baby heart Mant-
ling HIM warmly in my heavy cloak, | tore
down the steps and raced along the road
| homeward ut pace that would considerably
have amazed my patients, had any Of them
| been awake at that early hour.
| Allowing Mrs Watson no time for amaze
ment. pressed her into service, and in what
she called "a jiffy," we had the little form
undresscd in my bed, and undergoing the
most vigorous treatment. Ii Was 80 long
before we were successful, that my heart al
| most failed me but at last the faint throbs
grew stronger; color came to the pale lips
and cheeks, and a pair of large brown eyes
appeared from under the heavily fringed lids
had watched so snxiously.
| Only look of sleepy inquiry was visible,
as he stared moment at me, then obeying
my orders to drink the warm food Mrs. Wat
son held to his lips, my little patient closed
| his eyes again, and turned over to finish his
| nap He was safe now | knew; so leaving
him to Mrs. Watson's care, who by this time
| knew as much about him as did, / went to
sleep myself, to be ready for the days du-
ties.
1t was nearly nine clock when my house
keeper aroused me TO say that breakfast
was ready, and that the child was awake.
Very wide awake l found him, the glorious
brown eyes staring round my room, taking In
every detail of its arrangement.
"Who are you? How did get here7 Am
nearly 1t Australia Who's that man in
the picture were the questions poured
| rapidly forth, before had time to frame one
inquiry. 81 want to get up! Who's got my
clothes came next; then "Who put me to
bed without any night gown
Not sign of fear or . word Of homesick-
ness! l was puzzled.
"What is your name?" ] asked, sitting
| down beside him.
"Trot l want to get up
| You shall get up in minute, but first
| tell me your name, and how you came to be
asleep in the station
Ny name is Trot: and the plaguey cars
started of without me when got out It was
| dark night, and could not catch them, so /
went into the room and went to sleep till they
came again.
Was your mother in the train - in the
carr"
mo- nobody but just me. I'm going to
Australia
! Going to Australia.
ayes; Ellen's there They have roses
there at Christmas, and we wanted some for
our tree"
But, my child, you did not leave home
alone ~
/ "Yes | did l amt afraid I'm going
get the roses"
i" Bun, don't you know you will have to sal
in great ship for months to get to Australia
ELLEN went in the cars. We saw her go,
mamma and /. We went in the carriage and
said good-by,' and she got in the cars with
Mr.. Williams."
"Who is Mr.. Williams 2" / said, eagerly
catching at name.
"Ellen's husband. Our milkman he was
before he went off to Australia. He's Jolly
always filled my cup for nothing, when I wal
up"
"And who was Ellen?''
any nurse"
whats your fathers name?"
"Papal'
But his other name?''
Harry, dear. Mother a)~ays called him
SOL
Where does he live?''
"He's dead y said the child in whisper
Mamma cries all the time, most, and wears
an ugly black gown every day.
Well, where does mamma live?'
i CAT grandma 8, with Aunt Daisy, and Wal
ter and Sue, and-ain't it funny ?-baby's my
uncle, and he's SO little he has to be carried
about, and Walter hitler than me, and he Il
my uncle, too, and Sues only six, and she 4
my aunt"
"Where does grandma live ?'i
Why, home, in her own house"
"Well, what is her namef'