The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1871-03-31
LED OUT OF DANGER.
By JEAN. 1NeELow.


is waiting for the coach; it comes up
presently. And he goes on the top OF
it and begins to look about him.
They soon leave the chimney tops
behind them; his eye wanders with
delight o:er the harvest fields; he
smells the honeysuckle in the hedge
row, and wishes he was down among
the hazel bushes that he might strip
them of the milky nuts; then he sees
a great vain piled up with barley, and
he wished he was on the top of it
then the checkered shadows of the
trees lying across the white road, and
then squirrel runs up bOugh, and
he cannot forbear to whoop and hal
loo, though he cannot chase it to its
nest.
The other passengers were delight
ed with his simplicity and ehild-like
glee; and they encouraged him to
talk about the sea and the ships, espe-
cially her Majesty's, wherein he has
the honor to sail. In the jargon of the
seas, he describes her many perfec-
tions, upon her peculiar advantages ;
he then confides to them how certain
mildly, having been ordered to the
masthead as punishment, had seen,
while sitting ON the topmast cross
tree, something uncOmmonly like the
sea-serpent-but finding this hint re-
ceived with Acredulous smiles, he
begins to tell them now he hopes that
some day he shall be promoted to have
charge OF the poop. The passengers
hope he will have that honor; they
have no doubt that he deserves it. His
cheeks flush with pleasure to hear
them say SO, and he little thinks that
they have no notion in what s'that
honor" may happen to consist.
The coach stops; the midshipman,
with his hands in his pockets, sits rat
tling his money and singing. There
is poor woman standing by the door
of the village inn she looks caleworn,
and we'll she may, for in the spring
her husband went up to London to
seek for work. He goes for work, and
she was expecting soon to join him
there, when, alas fellow-workman
wrote her word bow he had met with
an accident, how he was very bad, and
wanted his wife to come and nurse
him. But she has two children, and
destitute; she must walk all the way,
and she is sick at heart when she
thinks that he may die among strang-
ers before she can reach him.
She does not think of begging but
seeing the boys eyes attracted to her,
she makes a cOurtsey, and he with
draws his hand and throws down
sovereign. She looks at it with in-
credulous joy, and then she looks at
him.
"It's all right" he says, and the
coach starts again, while, full of graf
itude, she hires a cart to take her
across the country to railway, that
the next night she may sit by the bed
side of her sick husband.
The midshipman knows nothing
about that-and he will never know.
The passengers 60 on taIking--the
little midshipman has told them who
he is, and where he is going. Rut
there is one who has never joined i'm
the conversation he is dark-look-
irg and restless mamie sits apart :
he sees the glitter of the falling coin,
and he watches the boy more closely
than he did before.
lie is strong man, rcsOlute and
determined; the boy with his pockets
full of money will be no match for
him. He has told the others that his
fathers house is the parsonage at
y; the coach goes within five
miles of IT, and he'means to get out at
the nearest point, and walk, or rather
run, over to his home through the
great wood.
The man decided to get down, too,
and 60 through the wood; he will rob
the little midshipman perhaps, If he
cries out and struggles, he will do
worse. The boy, he thinks, will have
no chances against him; it is quite
impossible that he can escape; the
way is lonely, and the sun will be
down.
No. There seemed, indeed, little
chance of his escape; the half-fledged
bird just fiuttering down from his
nest, has no more chance against the
keen-eyed hawh than the little, light
hearted sailor boy will have against
him.
And now they reach the village
where the boy is to alight. lie wishes
the other passengers 'Good EVENING"
and runs lightly down between the
scattered houses. The man has also
got down and is following.
The path lies through the village
church-yard there is evening service,
and the door is wide open, for it is
warm. The little midshipman steals
up to 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 a house of pray
er; and feeling of pleasure induced
him to stand still and listen.
He hears the opening sentences of
the sermon; and then he remembers
his home, and comes softly out of the
porch, full of calm and serious pleas
ure. The clergyman has reminded
him ofhis father, and his careless heart
is filled with the echoes of his voice
and ct his prayers,
He thinks of what the clergyman
said Of the care of our Heavenly
Father for us; he remembers how,
when he left home, his father prayed
that he might be preserved through
every danger; he does not remember
any particular danger that he has been
to, excepting in the great
storm; but he is grateful he has come
home in safety, and he hopes whenev-
er he shall be in danger, which he
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 to
the entrance of the wood.
''Are not two sparrows,' he hears,
sold for a farthing? and ono shall
not fall to the ground without your
Fathers notice. But the hairs of your
head are numbered. Fear not, there
fore, We are of mere Talue than many |
The man is there before him. lie |
has pushed him self into the thicker, !
ard cut a heavy stake; he suffers the !
boy TO 90 on before and then he comes |
out, falls into the path, and follows |
him. 1t is too light at present for his
deed of darkness, and too near the ell
trance of the wood, but he knows that |
shortly the path will branch of into |
two, and the light one for the boy to |
take will be dark and lonely.
But what prompts the little. mid