The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-12-17

Gle.
In my frequent journeyings through
the State, had seen many places which
/ wanted to get away from quickly, but
never saw another that L wanted to
turn nv back upon SO much as Tama-
qua. It was not in any manner pleas
ant place, and besides, If these nephews
and nieces of mine were TO have Christ
mas tree at all in this year, 1856, L
Thought must go home as fast as /
could travel. had come to Tamaqua
in a stage-not to Philadelphia, exactly,
but to the next railroad town, and that
was distant knew not how far.
L arose shivering from the dreary
breakfast, and hunted up the landlord of
the inn. He was easily found, and was
no better or warmer looking man than
his accommodations promised him to be.
1 paid his extravagant charges, and then
informed him that wished to reach as
quickly as possible the nearest railroad
station, and TO take the first train for the
east.
"The nearest station is at Ilium; Hi
UNI is % miles distant; you cannot get
there before night, if at ALL
All this was spoken reflectively, and
with deliberation.
If get there by 10 o'clock tonight
can / make the eastern express Z"
Z" You can, but doubt if You can get
there at all.
"Whyl" | asked.
He was not man to waste words. He
only said:
1.-THE stage won't go-on account of
the storm.
care you sure of that" ventured to
ask.
"Quite sure" and he closed his lips
with snap, as if he knew all about it.
"Who owns the stage q
81 do" he replied. "And / won't
let it go, because the road lies over that
mountain yonder; it runs close to the
edges of precipices several hundred feet
high, it is rough and slippery, the snow
is deep now, and getting deeper every
minute, and / don't believe any horse
could pull through it."
l thought of the little children waiting
for me yonder; of their bitter disap-
pointment if l did not come. Then
said 81 am very anxious to go, and
L am willing to pay well for being ia
KEN"
The landlord leaning over the bar,
asked:
Glow much 2"
told him what l was willing to pay.
"Tll go and get the stage ready" he
said. After all, it was only the higher
price he had been waiting for.
In five minutes the stage was ut the
door. II was an ordinary box wagon on
good strong springs, having a cotton
cover open in front. The horse was a
half -starved, jaded-looking beast. Itook
all this in as 1 stood on the porch wait
ing for the driver Getting impatient at
last, asked:
"Where is the driver"
The landlord, without speaking, point
ed to an ill-clad boy standing at the
horses head. / looked closely at him.
He might be, L thought, fifteen years
old, or he might be not more than ten:
His eyes were clear blue, and he, hear
ing my question, turned them full upon
mine, frank, boyish smile rebuking the
distrust my words implied, and lighting
up every feature of his delicate face.
His complexion was like that of a girl,
his mouth small and tender, his hair
yellow, his figure slight and sinuous.
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
cit don't matter if he is afraid He
belongs to me. He shall CO."
"No," | said /: "he shall not go, if he
is not quite willing"
81 am 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 gathered
flakes from his tattered cap, and in his
voice there was such hearty, CHEEKY
ring, that from that moment trusted
and loved the boy.
jumped into the stage, took the beck
seat, drew my great frieze coat close
about my legs, and we drove off among
the gaping, sooty crowd of miners
into the lonely mountain road; into the
cruelest storm of wind and snow that l
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 out
ermost limits of town, 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 ia
Their and mother2"
"That man yonder is all the father
or mother have, and his stable loft is
the only home have had since he took
me from the poor-house. That was bet
ter 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, and 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
% A inn1iro1