The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1875-03-03
A Little Hero.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

In the city of Hartford, Conn, lives
the hero of the true story l am about
to relate, but no longer little, y as the
perilous adventure which made him
famous in his native town happened
several years ago.
Our hero was then bright, active
boy of fourteen-the son of a me-
chanic. In the severe winter of 1885
the father worked in factory about a
mile from his home. and every day
the boy carried him his dinner across
piece OF meadow land.
One keen, frosty day he found the
snow on this meadow nearly two feet
deep, and no traces of the little foot
path remaining. Yet he ran on as
fast as possible, plunging through
drifts, keeping himself warm by Wig
orous exercise, and brave, cheerful
thoughts.
when in the midst of the meadow,
nearly half mile from home, he sud :
He had fallen into we'll. He sank
but rose Immediately to the surface.
There he grasped hold of a plank
which had fallen into the we'll as he
went down; one end of this rested on
the bottom of the we'll, the other rose
about four feet above the surface of
| the water.
The poor lad shouted for help until
he was hoarse and almost speechless;
but all in vain. as it was impossible to
make himself heard from such a
! depth, and at such a distance from
any house So at last he concluded
that if he was saved at all he must
save himself, ard begin at once, as he
was getting extremely cold in the
| water. So he went to work
First he drew himself up the plank,
and braced himself against the wall of
the we'll, which was of brick, and
quite smooth. Then he pulled of his
coat, and taking out his pocket-knile,
he cut off his boots that he might go
to work to greater advantage. Then,
with his feet against one side of the
we'll, and his shoulder against the
other. he worked himself up by the
most fearful exertion, about one half
the distance to the top. Here he was
obliged to pause to take breath and
gather up his energies for the work
yet before him. Far harder was it
than all he had gone through, for, the
side being from that point all covered
with ice, he must cut with his knife
grasping places for his fingers, slowly
and carefully all the way up.
1t was almost a hopeless attempt
but it was all that he could do. And
here the little hero lifted up his heart
to God, and prayed fervently for help,
fearing that he could never get out
alone.
Doubtless the Lord heard his voice
calling from the deep, and pitied him.
He wrought no miracle to save him.
He breathed into his heart a yet lar
ger measure OF calmness and courage,
and streetheninc him to work out his
own deliverance.
After this our little hero cut his way
upward inch by inch. His wet stockings
froze to the ice and kept his feet from
slipping, but his shirt was quite worn
from his shoulders ere he reached the
top. He did reach it at last, crawled
out into the snow, and laid down for a
moment to rest, painting out his breath
in little white clouds on the clear.
frosty air.
His clothes soon froze to his body,
but he no longer suffered with cold, as
full of joy and thankfulness, he ran to
the factory, where his father was watt
ing and wondering.
The poor man had to go without his
dinner that day, but you may be sure
he cared little about that, while lis
tening with tears in his eyes to the
thrilling story which his son had to
relate to him.
I have not heard of the 'hero" for
two or three years, but trust that he
is growing up into brave, heroic man,
and hope he will never forget the
Heavenly Friend who did not forget
him in the hour of his great need.
There is an old saying that truth
lies at the bottom of a well.
| trust that this brave boy found
and brought up from there this truth
God helps those who help them
selves"