The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-03-17
LED OUT OF DANGER.
BY JEAN INGELOW.

BY JEAN INGELow.
Who is this? A careless little mid |
shipman, idling about in great city,
with his pockets full of money. He is
waiting for the coach it comes up pres
emily. And he goes on the top of it, and
begins to look about him.
They soon leave the chimney tops be-
hind them; his eye wanders with de-
light over the harvest fields, he smells
the honeysuckle in the hedge-row, and
he wishes he was down among the hazel
bushes, that he might strip them Of the
milky nuts then he sees great vain
piled up with barley, and he wishes he
was on the top of it; then the check
cred shadows Of the trees lying across
the road, and then a squirrel runs up
Dough, and he cannot forbear to whoop
and halloo, though he cannot chase it
TO its nest.
The other passengers were delighted
with his simplicity and childlike glee
and they encourage him to talk about
the sea and the ships, especially Her
Majesty 's-wherein he has the honor to
sail. In the .jargon of the seas, he de
scribes her many projections, and en-
larges upon her peculiar advantages he
then contides to them how certain
MILDLY, having been ordered to the
ast-head as a punishment, had seen.
while sitting on the topmast cross tree,
something uncommonly like the sea-ser-
pent but finding this hint received with
incredulous smiles, he begins to tell
them how he hopes that some day he
shall be promoted to have charge Of the
poop. The passengers hope that 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 "that honor" may happen to
consist.
The coach stops the midshipman,
with his hands in his pockets, sits rat
ting his money and singing. There is
poor woman standing by the door Of
the village inn she looks careworn, and
well she may, for in the spring her hus-
band 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
how he had met with an accident. how
ne was very bad, and wanted his wife to
come and nurse him. But as she has
two children, and is destitute, she must
walk all the way, and she is sick at
heart when she thinks that perhaps he
may die among strangers before she can
reach him.
She does not think of begging, but
seeing the boys eyes attracted to her,
she makes a courtesy, and he withdraws
his hand and throws her down sover-
eign. She looks at itwith incredulous Joy,
and then she looks at him.
It's all right" he says, and the coach
starts again, while, full of gratitude, she
hires cart to take her across the coun-
try to the railway, that the next night
she may sit by the bedside Of her sick
husband.
The midshipman knows nothing about
that-and he never will know.
The passengers 90 on talking-the
little midshipman has told them who he
is, and where he is going. But there is
one who has never joined in the con-
versation he is dark-looking and
restless mamie sits apart, he sees the
glitter of the falling coin, and he now
watches the boy more closely than he
did before.
He is a strong man, resolute and de
Tic DOy WIFI HIS pOCktJS lull
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 decides to get down, too, and
go 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 halfhedged bird just
huttered down from his nest has no
more chance against the keen-eyed
hawk, than the little lighthearted sailor
boy will have against him.
And now they reach the village where
the boy is to alight. He 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
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 n
feeling of pleasure induced him to stand
still and listen.