Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1875-12-23
light sure enough" the landlord

VIC can 80 on IN the morning.
Il would rather take YOU on, sir
There's nodanger. l can't put nv
horse up here, and my master would
kin me if anything happened to
him."
That decided me to 90 on. Besides
| did noscsre to talk | was begin.
ming 10 feel cold again standing in
the wind, so we got into the stage.
1t was not showing any faster than
before, simply because it could not.
But the roads were heavier, and
when we tried to start, the. jaded
horse balked and struggled the drift,
for the stage had frozen fast where it
stopped.
1t was three o'clock now, the light
in the west growing DINNER and dim
mer-the gloom of the mountains and
the bare woods coming nearer to us,
making their meaning felt in our
souls, filing mine with an awful
dread of the snow covered road be-
yond. Ten miles to go yet, the night
coming quickly on, the cold growing
more intense, the road rougher, more
PERCEPTIONS, the horse evidently Civ
ing out. But the boy took up the
lines, the bright, frank smile upon his
face. the CHEEKY word upon his
tongue. ''Good-bye," he said, to the
man in the door way.
The man stood for an instant in the
doorway looking after us. Good
bye" he said.
We went en- along the road that
from the beginning of time it
was ordained we were to go; crept
back into my corner
"Do not go to Sleep" the pleasant
voice warned me from the front.
Thank you" l replied, cheered
and warmed by its hearty glow. 81
will not go to sleep"
Then followed long silence, in
which l had views of the falling
snow, the white hills above us, the
white hills still below us, in which i
heard sounds from cracking Groom
ing branches, from the wind sweep
ing savagely past us. Then uncon-
querable drowsiness, fast coming /
darkness--then night.
| felt hand on my face, then on
my shoulder, shaking me roughly; a
sweet cheering voice in my ears, call
ing me back to life.
"If you 90 to sleep now, you won't
wake up again" it said.
| woke with a sudden start for an |
instant, to full consciousness of
time and place. | was not cold,
only sleepy. Il am quite awake" L
replied. "Have We far to go?'
Five miles," and the voice was
still the same CHEEKY voice that had
heard from the first. He spoke to me
often after that; then | saw him as
in dream, fixing blanket that he
had taken from the horses back, to
the hickory bows overhead, to keep
the snow from driving in upon me, for
| was covered with it to my knees.
As God is my judge, | did not clear
ly know what he was doing, or |
would have stopped him. | did not
feel cold, though l knew afterward
that | was then freezing, and L did
not think he was cold. | did not
think at all. | was far past that. |
had begun longer journey than |
had started upon.
In that longer journey l had
dreamed of home, of the wonderOus
Christmas miracle, and lighted tree;
of the glad faces of children, whose
voices heard. / heard one of them
repeat two or three times, with start
ling distinctness, 1--WE are lost" L
was conscious that the child who
said it had thrown herself into my
arms, and was lying there a dull,
heavy weight. But aside from that
cry it was all bright and pleasant
this real terrible journey through the
snow, over the rough, dangerous
road, in that far off De-
cember. The dream lasted long I
while, through all the night, and the
day following, and the night follow
ing that.
When | awoke from it / was in {
large room, which | had never seen G
before. There were piles of the soft [
est blankets upon me, there was
great wood fire blazing on the hearth,
md had never felt so warm and
in my life. There were
TWO strangers in the room, man t
md n woman. whose faces were kind r
v ones, but sorely troubled. When n
stirred, and they saw | recognized y
hem, they came and stood by my S
)ed. {
"Where am I?'' l asked them. |
'At IIium, in the house of the a
Methodist minister" u
"How long have / been here?'' p
'Since night before last. You b
anne in the stage, and the horse v
topped before our door," the man
aid d
'What day is this?'
at is Christmas day." the woman Il
eplied, taking my hand in hers.
II have been ill, then?" jo
''Yesm
.sThere was boy brought me here.
Where is he?" m
"He is here too" The voice that
aid it was husky with tears, and the
and that held mine shook. q
.'Has he been ill, too"
"Yesr' fo
rs he better nOw? I'll
aHe was never so well. He will
ever be i'll again" ST
/ looked into the face of the wo- ey
ian who said this, and / saw that la
er eyes were red with weeping.
/ disengaged the hand she held, til
nd turned my face to the wall. ST
The woman laid her hand upon my
rm.
sYou must not feel like that. 1t is sc
etter so. He had only one friend, F
IL bo ,e x,;tt Him fhio hoo uftf1l Y