Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1869-04-23

A WESTERN DROvER'S STORY

My name is Anthony Hunt. nm
lrover, and I live miles and miles a-ro!
lpon the Western prairie. There wos,,'t!
lome within sight when we moved tbero"
ny wife and /, and now we havn't MAJ
ae1ghbors, though those we Lave are c~n,J,
mes. e'o"
One day, about ten years ago, l wo..
Away from home to sell some fifty head u:
cattle-fne creatures as I ever saw. VOL vi
to buy some groceries and dry goods besosSS
[ came back, and, above ell, a doll for ' vi!
youngest Dolly she had never had s, our
doll of her own, only the rag babies S' b'.,
mother had made her. "er
Dolly could talk of nothing else o.,
went down to the very gate to call affar r wv
to "buy big one" Nobody but q no,d l,se
can understand how full my mind was ~
that toy, and how. when the cattle Tro, W
sold, the first thing, I hurried off to LnG
Dolly's doll. L found large one, viii
eyes that would open and shut when Won
pulled a wire, and had 1t. wrapped mo in
paper, and tucked 1t under my arm, while
had the parcels of calico and delaino n,,5
tea and sugar put up. Then, late as i
was / started for home. 1t MIGHT Lnr
been more prudent to stay until norm W
but L felt anxious to get back, and cal,e.
was mounted on n steady.roino OH
horse or mare, and pretty well loaded
Night set III before was a mile from town
and settled down dark as pitch while wo,
in the middle of the widest pit of road
know Of. ! could have felt nv wor
through, L remembered it so well, and y
was almost like feeling it when the storm
that had been brewing broke, and the rain
pelted III torrents five miles, or NAV h.
six, from home yet. too
rode on as fast as / could, but all of
sudden heard little cry like child,
voice l stopped short and listened
heard it again. ] called. anu it answered.
mo. couldn't see thing all was darl
as pitch. got down and felt about in tbe
grass-called again, and again was answer
ed. Then L began to wonder. I'm NOT
timid, but was known to be droyer and
to have money about me. 1t might he
trap to catch me unawares and rob and
murder me.
! am not superstitious-not very hpt
how could a real child be out in the nroirir
| in such night, at such an hour ? II MIGHT
| be more than human.
| The bit of coward that hides itself in
most men showed itself to me then, and
| was half inclined to run away, bnt once
more heard that cry, and said /:
Ii any mans child is hereabouts, An
thcny hunt is not the man to let it die"
searched again. At last bethouobt
me of hollow under the hill, and groTed
that way. Sure enough, l found u little
dripping thing that moaned and sighed as
took 1t IN my arms. I called nv horse.
and the beast came to me, and mounted
and tucked the little soaked thing under
my coat as we'll as l could, promising 70
take it home to nanny. It seemed tired
to death, and pretty soon cried itself TO
sleep against my bosom.
| 1t had slept there over an hour when /
saw my own windows. There were lights
in them, and l supposed my wife had lit
them for my sake but when got into
the door-yard l saw something was the
matter, and stood still with dead fear of
heart five minutes before 1 could lift the
latch. At last l did it, and saw the room
full of neighbors, and my wife amidst
them weeping.
When she saw me she hid her face
Oh, don't tell him." she said it will
kill him.
What is it, neighbors 2" T cried.
And one said, " Nothing now, hope
What's that in your arms 90
"a poor, lost child" said I. 81 found
it on the road. Take it, will you, I've
turned faint" and lifted the sleeping
thing and saw the face of my own child,
my little Dolly.
1t was my darling, and none other, that
had picked up on the drenched road.
My little child had wandered ont to
meet " daddy and the doll, while her
mother was at work, and whom they were
lamenting as one dead. 1 thanked Heaven
on my knees before them all. 1t is not
much of story, neighbors, but think of
it often in the nights, and wonder how
could bear to live now if had not stop.
ped when heard the cry for help upon
the road-the little baby cry, hardly loud
er than squirrels chirp.
That's Dolly yonder with her mother in
the meadow, girl worth saving--I think
but then I'm her father, and partial, may
be) the prettiest and sweetest thing this
side of the Mississippi.