Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1875-01-21

years Oiu VI ilc mig iit uOt bO uiOlO tHau
ten. His eyes were clear blue, and he,
hearing my question, turned them full
upon mine, frank, boyish smile rebu-
| king the distrust my words implied,
and lighting up every feature OF his
delicate face. His complexion was
like that of girl, his mouth small and
tender, his hair yellow, his figure slight
and sinuous.
i, looked at him, standing there shiv-
ering with the cold, out through the
driving storm, along the snow-cOvered
mountain road we were to travel to-
gether, and asked: Are you not
afraid to go?'
The landlord interrupted:
'Itdon't matter if he is afraid. He
belongs to me. He shall go.'
No. said, he shall not go if he is
not quite willing
lam not at all afraid the boy re-
piled, 'and am quite willing to go.
have gone often and often, through
worse storms than this
There was an earnest, manly grace
even in the way he shook the gather
ed fakes from his tattered cap, and in
his voice there was such a hearty,
CHEEKY ring that from that moment l
trusted and loved the boy.
[ jumped iuto the stage, took the
back seat, drew my great frieZe coat
close to my legs, and we drove off from
among the gaping, sooty crowd of mi
nerS into the lonely mountain road; in
to the cruelest storm of wind and snow
that ever saw.
The boy sat on the front seat, wait
ing to be spoken to, looking straight
ahead.
When we were quite clear of the
struggling huts of the miners on the
outermost limits of the town 1 asked
him his name.
They call me Lewis Shively,' he
said.
How old are you, Lewis?' was my
next question.
Fourteen next April, SIR
DO you live at home with your faith
er and mOther?'
THAT man yOnder is all the father
or mother have, and his stable loft
is the only home I have had since he
took me from the poor-house. That
was better than the stable, though, for
they taught me something there
There were no complaining chords in
the tones in which these bitter words
were said, aud while he was speaking
he was drawing the whip gently across
the horses back, brushing off the snow
that had fallen on it.
Have you been driving on this road
long?. l inquired.
Going on three years. 1t will be
three years in March, :
IS it cold out there? Colder than in
here, meant?
Il think it is,' he replied; the wind
and snow cut so, but don't mind, sir!
We get used to rough weather up in
these hills?'
Il wish you would come in here; my
coat will cover us both.'
No, can't he said. I'VE have to
go pretty close to the precipices some
times.'
How close?' asked.
within a few inches. / can't see
now five yards ahead, the snow falls so
heavily
'Do you think it safe, then, to go on::'
Quite saafe, sir! and l don't mind
the cold.' But his teeth chartered As
he said it, and the ruddy glow was all
gone from his cheeks.
did not talk more then. There
were, I discovered, wide cracks in the
bottom of the stage, through which the
wind poured mercilessly. was chill
ed through to the heart in less than an
hour after starting. 1 do not know
how far we had gone, or how long we
had been upon the road, when l heard
the boys voice, CHEEKY and bright, ask
ing:
How are you now, sir? Feeling
pretty comfortable, sir?'
nodded my head, and crept closer
into the corner. But he was wiser than
I, and he would not let me have the
sleep coveted.
said, for want of something better to
say with which to rouse me.
Yes replied. Il want to be at
home on Christmas Eve.'
The best days I ever knew were
Christmases-a good while ago.
He said itas if he were ever and ev-
er so old, and what was saddest of all,
as if be were done with Christmas for
ever. I told him of the tree 1 was tc
get, and how Chritmas Day was kept
in the great cities. He was most in
terested in the tree, making me tell
me again and again about it. But af-
ter awhile, as if he were tired of it, he
said:
Il never saw tree like that. know
about Christmas, though. About the
star and the shepherds and the Christ
child you spoke of-that they laid in
manger.'
Then you know all that anyone in
the world need ever care to know 7
said.
1t may have been an hour, or two
hours, but it seemed but minute, af-
ter this that the boy shook me roughly
by the shoulder.
I'VE are to get out here,' he said.
1 was very stiff in my joints, but
could up and climb out of the stage,
and no more. If was cold did not
know it,, my limbs were numb, yet
otherwise l was comfortable enough.
1 crawled out and followed the boy in
to miserable-lOuklng shanty by the
roadside, in front of which we had
stopped. There was rough bar rum
ming across the room there was thick,
black-haired, brawny-looking man be-
hind it, and there were two or three
kegs of liquor behind him. There was
an iron stove in the middle of the
room, bench along the wall, and that
was all. The boy asked for some BRAN
dy, drank glass Of it after handing
one to me, which 1 drank, and felt so
much better for drinking it that ! call
ed for another and got it; but the boy
refused to take the glass 1 offered him.
Il have had enough he said.
We were going out when the land
lord opened the door before us. Look
ing out into the storm, he asked in
credulously:
Are you going on?'
s'Yes!' said the boy; l was told to
drive this gentlemen to Ilium tonight,
and Pm going to do it,
If you get there at all it will be
night sure enough the landlord said.
Il will get there all the same was
the boys reply.