Bedford inquirer. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, 1869-08-06
A WESTERN DRoyER's STORY.


eago Tribune
WESTERN DRoyER's STORY.
Ny name is Anthony Hunt. am dro
yer; and live miles and miles away, upon
the Western prarie. There WASH t home
in sight when VIC moved there, my wife and
I, and now we haven't many neighbors,
though those We have are good ones.
One day about ten years ago, l went away
from home to sell some fifty head of cattle
fine creatures as | ever saw. | was to
buy some dry goods and groceries before I
came back, aud, above ALL a doll for our
youngest Dolly she had Dever had a store
doll Of her Own, ouly the rag babies her
mother made her
Dolly could talk nothing else, and went
down TO the very gate to call after me ito
buy a big one Nobody but parent can
understand how full my mind was of that
toy, and how, when the cattle were sold, the
Assat thing. hurried off to buy DoEly's doll
found large one, with eyes that would
open and shut when you pulled wire, and
had it wrapped up in paper and tucked it
under my arm, while had the parcels Of
calico and delaine and tea and sugar put up.
Then, late as it was, I started for home. Il
might have been more prudent to stay until
morning but felt anxious to get back, and
eager to hear Dolly's prattIe about her doll
was mounted on steady going old horse
Of mine, and pretty well loaded Night set
/ il before was a mile from town, and set
tied down dark as pitch while / was in the
middle of the widest BIT Of road know Of
coDld have felt ny way through, Iremem-
/ bered it 50 well, and il was almost that when
the storm that had been brewing, broke and
pelted the rain in torrents, five miles, or may
/ be six, from home yet, too.
/ rode on as fast as | could but all of
sudden I heard little cry like child :
voice | stopped short and lstened-I
heard it again called and il answered
me. l couldn't see a thing; all was dark as
pitch. got down and felt about in the
grass-oalIed again, and again was answer
cd. Then / began TO wonder. I'm not
timid, but was known to be droyer and
f TO have morey about me- Il might be a
trap to catch me unawares and rob aud mur
4 der me.
| am not superstitious very, but how
could a real child be out in the prarie in such
a night, at such an hour? 1t might be more
than human.
The bit Of a coward that hides himself in
most men showed itself to me then, and l
was half inclined to run away, but once more
| heard that cry, and said 1
fauy mans child is hereabouts, An
thony Hunt is BOT the man to let it die. "
l searched again At last 1 bethought
me of hollow under the hill, aud groped
that way. Sure enough found little
dripping thing that moaned and sobbed as
/ took it in my arms l called my horse,
aad the beast came to me, and 1 mounted,
and tucked the little soaked thing under my
coat as well as | could, promising to take it
home to nanny 1t seemed tired to death,
and pretty soon cried itself to sleep against
my bosom.
1t had slept there over an hour when |
saw ny own windows, There we're lights in
them, and supposed my wife had Tt hem
for my sake, but when got into the door
yard saw something was the matter, ana
stool still with dead fear Of heart FIVE
minutes before / could lift tie latch. At
last did it, and saw the room fullol neigh
bors and my wife among them weeping.
When She saw me she hid her face "Qh,
don't tell him, she said sit will kill him. "
What is it, neighborsl
And one said, "Nothiag row, hope
what's that in your arms2
"a poor lost child, said l. i found it on
The road. Take it, win you, I've turned
faint, and I 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 upon the dreuched road.
My little child had wondered out to meet
daddy and the doll, while her mother
vas at work, and whom they were lament
/ ing as one dead. thanked Heaven on my
knees before them ALL 1t is not much Of q
story, ueighbors, but / think Of it often il
the nights, and wonder how could bear 4
| lire now If had not stopped when | hearC
/ the cry for help on the road, the little bah
cry, hardly louder than squirrel chiFp.
/ That Dolly yonder with her mother il
the meadow, a girl worth savingI think
but lhea, I'm her father, and partial ma.
bslszthe prettiesi ard sweetest thing thi
side Of the Mississippi