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

On lie cOIueS, IuIlIiIIiS AShOAy3 WIN
his hsnds in his pockets. A sound
strikes at the same time the ears of
botn, and the boy turns back from the
very Jaws of death to listen. 1t is the
sound of wheels, and it draws rapidly
nearer. A man comes up, driving a
gig. "Hilloa p he says, in loud,
cheerful voice. What, benighted,
youngster?''
"Oh, is it you, Mr.. D-?" says the
boy "no, l am not benighted; or, at
any rate, know my way out OF the
woods"
The man drew further back among
the shrubs; "Why, bless the boy" he
hears the farmer say, " to think of our
meeting in this way! The parson told
me he was in hopes of seeing thee some
day this week. I'll give thee lift.
This is lone place to be in this time
o'night."
"Lone," says the boy, laughing ~
don't mind that; and if you know the
way, it's as safe as quarter deck"
So he gets into the farmers gig, and
is once more out of the reach of the
pursuer. But the man knows that the
farmers house is a quarter OF mile
nearer than the parsonage, and IN that
quarter of mile there is still chance
of committing robbery. He deter.
mined still to make the attempt, and
cuts across the wood with such rapid
strides that he reaches the farmers
gate Just as the gig drives up to it.
Well, thank you, farmer" says the
midshipman, as he prepares to get
down.
"I wish you good night, gentlemen"
says the man, when he passes.
''Good night, friend" the farmer re-
plies. II say, my boy, it's dark night
enough but | have mind to drive
you on to the parsonage, and hear the
rest of this long tale of yours about the
sea-serpent."
The little wheels go on again. They
pass the man; and he stands still in the
road to listen till the sound dies
away. Then he filings his stake into the
hedge, and goes back again. His evil
purposes have all been frustrated-the
thoughtless boy has baffled him at every
step.
And now the little midshipman is at
home; the joyful meeting has taken
place and when they have all admired
his growth, and decided whom he is
like, and measured his height on the
window frame, and seen him eat his
supper, they begin to question hlm
about his adventures, more for the plea
sure of hearing him talk than any curl
osity.
Adventures p says the boy, seated
between father and mother on sota
Why, ma, did write you an account
of the voyage, and there's nothing else
to tell. Nothing happened to-day-or
at least nothing particular"
"You came by the coach we told you
of?'
30, yes, papa, and when we got about
twenty miles. there came up beggar,
while we were changing horses, and L
threw down las l thought) a shilling;
but as it fell saw it was a sovereign.
She was very honest, and showed me
what it was, but [ didn't take it back,
for you know, mamma, it is long time
since I gave anything to anybody"
every true, my boy" his mother an
swers "but you should not be careless
with your money, and few beggars are
worthy objects of charity"
~ suppose you got down at the cross
roads ?" said his elder brother.
eyes, and went through the woods.
[ should have been here sooner, if L
hadn't lost my way there"
"Lost your way!' said the mother,
alarmed; "my dear boy, you should not
have left the path at dusk"
"Oh, MAJ said the little midshipman,
with a smile, "you're always thinking
we are in danger. If you could see me
sometimes sitting at the jib-boom end,
or across the main-top-mast-cross-tree,
YOU acouzd be frightened. But what
danger can there be in wood ?"
"Well, my boy" she answers, " l
don't wish to be over-anxious, and make
my children uncomfortable by my fears.
What did you stray from the path for"
"Only to catch little owl, mamma;
but didn't catch her, after all. | got
roll down a bank, and caught my
jacket against a thornbush, which was
rather unlucky. Ali three large holes
| see in my sleeve. And SO | scrambled
up again, and got into the right path,
and asked at the cottage for some beer.
What long time the woman kept me,
to be sure. I thought it would never
come. But very soon after, Mr.. D
drove up in his gig, and he brought me
on to the gate"
"And so this account of your adven-
lures being brought to a Close" his
father saws, "we discover there are no
adventures to tell"
"No, papa, nothing happened-noth-
ing particular, [ mean"
Notbio0 particIIlap IF thew could
have known, they would have thought
lightly in comparison of the dangers OF
the iib-boom's end and the main-top-
mast t-cross-trees. But they do not know,
any more than we do, OF the dangers
that hourly beset us. Some few dangers
we are aware of, and we do what we can
to provide against them; but for the
greater portion our eyes behold that we
cannot see. We walk securely under
His guidance, without whom "not a
sparrow falleth to the ground;'' and
when we have had escapes that the an
gels have admired at, we come home
and say, perhaps, that nothing has hap
pened-at least nothing particular:
1t is not well that our minds should
be much exercised at these hidden dam
gers, since they are so, and so great that
no human art or foresight can prevent
them. But it is very well that we
should reflect constantly on that loving
Providence which watches every foot
step of track always balancing between
time and eternity; and that such retiec,
tions should make us both happy ana
afraid-afraid of trusting our souls TOO
much to an earthly guide or earthly Sc
curity-happy from the knowledge that
there is One with whom we may trust
them wholly, and with whom the very
hairs of our head are all numbered.