The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1872-10-01

a DR0YER,S STORY.

My name is Anthony Hunt. am a drover
and live miles and miles away, upon the
Western prairie. There wasn't house with
in sight when we moved there, my wife and
/ F.; and we have not many neighbors, though
those we have are good ones.
One day, about ten years ago, | went away
from home to sell some fifty head of cattle
fine creatures as ever / saw. / was to buy
some groceries and dry-goods before | came
back, and, above all, a doll for our youngest,
Dolly; she never had a shop doll of her own,
only the rag babies her mother had made her.
Dolly could talk of nothing else, and went
down to the very gate to call after me to "buy
big one" Nobody but parent can UNDER
stand how my mind was on that toy, and how,
when the cattle were sold, the first thing |
hurried off to buy was Dolly's doll. l found
large one, with eyes that would open and
shut when you pulled a wire, and had it wrap
ped up in paper, and tucked it up under my
arm, while | had the parcels of calico and de-
lain and tea and sugar put up. Itmight have
been more prudent to stay until morning, but
felt anxious to get back, and eager to hear
A<ohy ptdbblc tiOu Silc WIS So siilXl-
ously expecting.
mounted on steady-going old horse of
mine, and pretty well loaded Night set in
before was mile from town, and settled
down dark as pitch while | was in the middle
of the widest bit of road know of l could
have felt my way through, | remembered it so
well, and it was almost that when the storm
that had been brewing broke, and pelted the
rain in torrents, five miles, or may be six,
from home, too. rode on as fast as could ::
but suddenly heard little cry, like childs
voice. stopped short, and listened. Iheard
it again. | called, and it anYered me. l
couldn't see thing. All was dark as pitch.
got down, and felt about in the grass called
again, and again was answered. Then be-
gan to wonder. I'm not timid but / was
known to be a drover, and to have money
about me. l thought it might be trap to
catch me unawares, and there to rob and MUIR
der me.
am not superstitious-not very-but how
could a real child be out on the prairie in such
a night, at such an hour? It might be more
than human. The bit of a coward that hides
itself in most men showed itself to me then.
and was half inclined to run away but once
more | heard the piteous cry, and said /, "If
any mans child is hereabouts Anthony Hunt
is not the man to let it lie alone to die"
searched again. At last bethought me
of a hollow under the hill, and. CROPPED that
way. Sure enough, found little dripping
thing that moaned and sobbed as took it in
my arms. / called my horse, and the beast
came to me, and mounted, and tucked the
little soaked thing under my coat as we'll as
could, promising to take it home to nanny.
1t seemed tired to death, and pretty soon cried
itself to sleep against my bosom.
1t had slept there over an hour when saw
my own windows. There were lights in them,
and supposed my wife had lit them for my
sake but when got into the door yard | saw
something was the matter, and stood still with
dead fear of heart five minutes before could
lift the latch. At last did it, and saw the
room full of neighbors and my wife amid
them, weeping. When she saw me she hid
her face.
80, don't tell him - she said. at will
kill him.
"What is it, neighbors? :" | cried.
And one said, Nothing now, l hope.
What's that in your arms?"
ga poor lost child" said I. 81 found it
on the road. Take it, will you? I've turned
faint" And lifted the sleeping thing and
saw the face of my own child, my little Dolly.
1t was my darling, and no other, that l had
picked up upon the drenched road.
My little child had wandered out to meet
'tdaddy" and doll while her mother was at
work, and whom they were lamenting as one
dead. I thanked God ON my knees before
them all. 1t is not much of story, neigh
bors /; but think of it often in the nights,
and wonder how | could bear to live now if
had not stopped when heard the cry for help
upon the road-The little baby cry, hardly
louder than squirrels chirp.
All, friends, the blessings of our work often
come nearer to our own homes than we ever
dare to hope!