The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1869-04-14
The Drover's Story.

am q drover, l 1.-Two miles and miles
away, upon tho Western prairie.
There wasn't a home within sight
when we moved there, my wifo
and I, and now we haven't many
neighbors, though those VIC have
are good ones.
Ono day, about ten years ago,
won't way from homo to soil
some fifty head Of cattlc-fno
creatures rs over saw. l was to
buy somo groceries and dry goods
before I came back; and, above all,
II doll for our youngest Dolly. She
had never had q store doll of her
| own-only the rag babies her
mother had made her. Dol
ly could talk Of nothing else,
aud went down to tho very gate
to call after mo to "buy big one"
Nobody but parent can under
stand how full my mind was Of
that toy, and how, when the cattle
were sold, the first thing, hurried
off to buy Dolly's doll. found
largo one, with eyes that would
open and shut whom you pulled
wire, and had it wrapped up in
paper, and tucked it under my
arm. while [ had tho parcels Of
calico and dclaine. and tea and
sugar put up. Then late as it was,
I started for homo. 1t might have
been moro prudent TO stay until
morning, but I felt anxious to get
back, and eager to hear Do!ly's
prattle about her toy.
I was mounted on Il steady going
old horse ofmine, aud pretty well
loaded. Night set in before l was
II milo from town, and settled
down 'lQrk rs pitch while I was IN
the middle Of the widest bit Of
road I know of. I could have felt
my way, though, 1 remembered it
40 well and it was almost
that, whom the storm that had
been brewing broke, and pcltcd
the rain in torrents, five miles, or
maybe six, from homo yet, too.
rode on as fast ns [ coulh, but
all of u sudden I heard 81 little cry
'''''H "a ff''Ih - voice. u SlODDCu
short and listcned-I hcardiLagain.
[ called, and it answered me. !
couldn't see u thing; all was dark
as pitch. I got down and felt
about in tho gr,ss--called again,
and again was answered. Then
[ began to wonder. I'm not Limid,
but | was known to be drovcr,
and to have money about me. 1t
might be II trap IT, catch me un-
awarcs and rob and murder me.
l am not supersitilious-no
very, but how conld real child he
olat on the prairie in such night,
at such an hour. II might be
more than human.
Tho bit Of q coward that hides
itself in most men showed itself to
me then, and | was half inclined
to run away, but onco more /
heard that cry, and said l:
"If any mans child is hcrca-
bouts, Anthony Hunt is not the
man to let it die"
l searched again. At last l be-
thought ne OF u hollow under the
hill, and groping that way, sure
enough / found Il little dripping
thing, that moancd and sobIcd as
took it in my arms. called my
horse, and tho beast came to me,
and [ mounted, and tucked the
little soaked thing under my coat
as woll as / could, promising to
tako it homo to mamma. 1t
seemed tired to death, and pretty
soon cried itself to sleep against
my bosom.
1t had slopt there over an hour,
when | saw my own windows.
There were lights in them. and |
supposed my wife had lit them for
my sake but when | got into the
door yard | saw something was
tho matter, and stood still, with
dead fear of heart, five minutes
before [ could lift til \ latch. Az
last l did it, and saw tho room
full Of ncighbors, and my wife
amidst them weeping.
When she saw me, sho hid her
face. ooh don't tell him." 3 he
said, It will kill him."
"What is it, neighbors?' I cried.
And ono said: "Nothing now
[ hope--what's that in your arms?''
"a poor lost child," said I. m
found it on the road. Talsejt will
you, I've turned faint" andsI lift
cd the sleeping thing and saw tho
face Of my own child, my little
Dolly.
IL was my darling, and none
other, that | had picked up upon
tho drenchcd road.
My little child had wandered
out to mect "daddy" and tho doll,
while her mother was ut work,
and whom they wcro Iamcnting as
ono dead. / thanked Heaven on
my knecs before them all. 1t is
not much of story, neighbors,
! hj1t 7 thinlS of IT, oftan in tho