Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1870-10-28

DoN, nc tHitiks, viii HoNC Ho CuauCes
against him it is quite impossible that he
can escape the way is lonely. and tho
sun will be down.
No. There seemed indeed little chance
of escape the half-hedgcd bird just flut.
tering down from his nest has no more
chance against the keen-eyed hawk, than
the little light sailor boy will
have against him.
And now they reach the village where
the boy is to alight. He wishes the other
passengers ''Good eveningl" and runs
lightly down between tho scattered
houses. The man has also got down. and
is following.
The path lies through the village
churchyard; there is evening service, and
the door is wide open, Tor it is warm.
The little midshipman steals up the porch,
looks in and listens. The Clergyman has
just risen from his knees, in the pulpit,
and is giving out his text. Thirteen
months have passed since the boy was in
house of prayer; and a feeling ol
pleasure induced him TO stand still and
listen.
lie hears the opening sentences OF the
sermon; and then he remembers his
home, and comes softly out Of the porch.
full of calm serious pleasure. The
Clergyman has reminded him of his father,
and his careless heart is filled with The
echoes of his voice and of his prayers.
He thinks on what the clergyman said OF
the care OF our Heavenly Father Tor us
he remembers how, when he left home,
his father prayed that he might be pre-
served through every danger; he does
no, remember any particular danger that
he has been exposed 10, excepting in the
great storm but he is grateful he has
come home in safety, aud he hopes when
ever he shall be in danger, which he sup
poses he shall be some day, he hopes
that then the providence Of God will
watch over him and protect him. And
so he presses onward 10 the entrance Of
the wood. "Are not two sparrows.' he
hears, "sold for 4 iarthng?" and one
shall no, fall to the ground without your
Fathers notice. But the hairs of your
head are numbered Fear not, therefore.
Sc are OF more value than many spar
rows"
The man is there before him. He has
pushed himself into the thickct. and cut
n heavy stake; he suffers the boy TO 60
on before, and then he comes out, falls
into the path. and follows him. Ii is too
light at present for his deed of darkness,
and too near the entrance of the wood,
bu, he knows that shortly the path will
branch off into two and the right one for
The boy to take will be dark and lonely.
But what prompts the little midship-
man. when no, fifty rods from the branch
ing OF the path. 10 break into sudden
run? II is not iear-he never dreams of
danger. Some sudden impulse, or some
wild wish. Tor home makes him dash off
suddenly after his sauntor. with whoop
and bound. On he goes as il running a
race; the path bends, and the man loses
sight of him. "But shall have him yet,"
he thinks; he cannot keep up the pace
long. The boy has nearly reached the
place where the path divides. when he
puts up white owl. that can scarcely fly.
rs it goes whirring along close to the
ground before him. He gains upon il;
another moment anil it will be his Now
he gets the start again; they come to the
branching of the paths, and the bird goes
down the wrong one. The temptation TO
follow it is too strong to be resisted; he
knows that somewhere, deep in the wood.
there is a cross track by which he can get
into the track he has left; i, is only to
run a little faster, and he shall he home
nearly as soon.
On he rushes; the path takes bend,
and lie is just out of sight when his pnr-
suer comes where the paths ride. The
boy has turned TO the righ.-the man
takes the left, and the faster they both
lun the farther they are asundcr.
The white owl still leads him on; the
path gets darker and narrower; at last he
finds that he has missed altogether, and
his feet are on the safe ground. He
founders about among the trees and
stumps, vexed with himself; and painting
after his race. At last he hits upon
another track, and pushes on as fast rs
he can. The ground begins scnsibly to
descend: he has lost his way-but he
keeps bearing to the left and though it is
now dark, he thinks he must reach The
main path sooner or later.
He does not know this part of the
wood, bnt runs on. Oh, little midship.
man! why did you chase that owl? If
you had kept that path with the dark man
behind you, there was a chance that you
might outrun him; or if he had ovcrtaken
you, some passing wayfarer might have
heard your cries, and come to save you.
Now you are running straight on to your
death, for the forest water is deep and
lack at the bottom Of this hill. y that
the moon might come out and show it TO
you.
The moon is under thick canopy OF
heavy black clouds, and there is not a
rtar to glitter on the water and make it
III, &c. .,,1lnr HI, foot