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


There wasn't a homo within sight
when we 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,
! I went a way from home to sell
some fifty head of cattle-hne
creatures as ever I saw. l was to
buy some groceries and dry goods
before came back; and, above all,
a 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
Ily could talk. of nothing else,
and went down to the very gate
to call after me to "buy a big one"
Nobody but parent can under
stand how full my mind was of
that toy, ana how, when the cattle
were sold, the first thing, | hurried
off to buy Dolly's doll. 1 found a
large one, with eyes that would
| open and shut when you pulled a
wire, and had it wrapped up in
paper, and tucked it under my
arm, while I had the parcels OF
calico and delaine: and tea and
sugar put up. Then late as it was,
I started for home. 1t might have
been more prudent to stay until
morning, but I felt anxious to get
back, and eager to hear Dolly's
prattle about her toy.
T was mounted on steady-golng
old horse of mine, and pretty we'll
loaded. Night set in before l was
a mile from town, and settled
down dark as pitch while I was in
the middle Of the widest bit OF
road l know of. I could have felt
my way, though, l remembered it
so we'll and it was almost
that, when the storm that had
been brewing broke, and pelted
the rain in torrents. FIVE miles, or
maybe six, from home yet, too.
irode on as fast as | could, but
all of sudden I heard a little cry
like a ehildsSEeice@ I stopped
short and listened-I heard il again.
I called, and Unanswered me-: /
couldn't see asthins; all was dark
as pitch. I got down and felt
about in the grass-called again
and again was answered. Then
I began to wonder. I'm not timid,
but I was known to be drover.
and to have money about me. 1t
might be a trap to catch me un-
awares and rob and murder me.
I am not superSititious-not
very, but how could "a real child be
out on the prairie in such q night,
at such an hour. 1t might be
more than human.
The bit of a coward that hides
itself in most men showed itself to
me then, and l was half inclined
to run away, but once more l
heard that cry, and said I:
"If any mans child is herea-
bouts, Anthony Hunt is not the
man to let it die"
searched again. At last l be-
thought me OF a hollow under the
hill, and cropping that way, sure
enough I found a little dripping
thing, that moaned and sobbed as
I took it in my arms. I called my
horse, and the beast came to me,
and I mounted, and tucked the
little soaked thing under my coat
as we'll as I could, promising to
| take it home to mamma. 1t
| seemed tired to death, and pretty
| soon cried itself to sleep against
my bosom.
It had slept there over an hour,
when l saw my own windows.
There were lights in them. and |
supposed my wife had lit them for
nv sake; but when I got into the
door yard l saw something was
the matter, and stood still, with Il
dead fear of heart, five minutes
before I 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, at will kill him."
"What is it, ncighbors?" l cried
And one said: "Nothing now
I hope-what's that in your arms?
"A poor lost child" said I. "a
found it on the road. Take it will
YOU, I've turned faint" and [ lift.
ed the sleeping thing and saw the
face of my own child, my little
Dolly.
It was my darling, and none
other, that 1 had picked up upon
the drenched road.
Nv little child had wandered
out to meet "daddy" and the doll
while her mother was at work.
and whom they were lamenting as
one dead. | thanked Heaven or
nv knees before them all. 1t is