Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-03-10

| ClSfgylIldn SdIu OI lIle care vi 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 re-
member any particular danger that he
has been exposed to, except in the great
storm but he is grateful he has come
| home in safety, and he hopes whenever
he shall be in danger, which he supposes
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 one shall not fall to
the graund without your Fathers notice.
But the hairs of your head are numbered.
Fear not, therefore We are of more
value than many sparrows." s..
| The man is there before him. He has
pushed himself into the thicket, and
cut 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 entrance OF
the wood, but 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 not fifty rods from the
branching of the path, to break into a
sudden run? 1t is not fear-he never
dreams of danger. Some sudden impulse,
or some wild wish for home makes him
dash off suddenly after his saunter,
with a whoop and bound. On he goes
as if running race the path bends,
and the man loses sight Of him. But
[ shall have him yet" he thinks; he
cannot keep up that pace long. The boy
has nearly reached the place where the
path divides, when he starts up white
owl, that can scarcely fly as he goes
whirling along close to the ground before
him. He gains upon it; another moment
and 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 it is only to run a
| little faster, and he shall be home nearly
as soon.
On he rushes; the path takes a bend,
and he is just out of sight when his
pursuer comes where the paths divide.
The boy has turned to the right-the
man takes the left, and the faster they
both run the farther they are asunder.
The white owl still leads him on the
path gets darker and narrower; at last
he finds that he has missed it alto
gether, and his feet are on the soft
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 as he can. The ground begins
sensibly 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, but runs on. Oh, little midship-
man why did you chase that owl? IT
you had kept the path with the dark
man behind you, there was chance
that you might outrun him or IT he
had overtal1en you, some passing way
farer might have heard your cries, and
come to save you. Now you are run
ming straight on to your death, for the
forest water is deep and black at the
bottom of this hill. Oh 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
star to glitter on the water and make 1t
visible. The fern is soft under his feet
as he runs and slips down the sloplng
| hill. At last he strikes against stone,
stumbles and falls. Two minutes more
and he will fall into the black water.
"Heydey !" cried the boy, ".what's
this? Oh, how it tears my hands Oh!
this thornbush? ? Oh my arm! l can't
get free !" He struggles and pants.
"All this comes of leaving the path"
he SAYS; ~ shouldn't have cared for
rolling down if it hadn't been for this
bush. The fern was soft enough. I'll
never stray away in wood at night
again. There, free at last And my
| Jacket nearly torn off my back ~
With a good deal of patience, and a
great many scratches, he gets free OF the
thorn which had arrested his progress
when his feet were within yard OF the
water, manages to scramble to the bank,
and makes the best of his way through
! the wood
And now, as the clouds move slowly
onward, the moon shows her face on the
black surface of the water and the little
white owl comes and boots, and fiutters
over it like wandering snow drift. But
the boy is in the wood again, and knows
nothing of the danger from which he
has escaped. All this time the dark
passenger follows the main track, and
believes that the boy is before him. At
last he hears a crashing of dead boughs,
and presently the little midshipman's
voice fifty yards before him. Yes, it is
too true; the boy is in the cross track.
He will pass the cottage in the wood di-
rectly, and after that his pursuer will
come upon him.
The boy bounds into the path but as
he sees the cottage, he is thirsty, and so
hot, that he thinks he must ask the in
habitants if they can sell him glass of
ale.
He enters without ceremony. 'Ale?'
saws the woodman, who is sitting at his
supper. "No, we have no ale; but per-
haps nv wife can give thee drink of
milk. Come in.'' SO he comes in and
shuts the door. and while he sits waiting
for the milk, footsteps pass. They are
. the footsteps of his pursuer, who goes on
with the stake in his hand, angry and
impatient that he has not yet come up
with him.
The woman goes to the dairy for milk,
and the boy thinks she is gone long
time. He drinks it, thanks her, and
takes his leave.
Fast and faster the man runs after
him.