Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1875-01-08

II do" he replied. s'And I won't let
go because the road lies over that mour
tain yonder; it runs close to the edge c
precipices several hundred feet high, it
rough and slippery, the snow is deep now
and getting deeper every minute, and
don't believe any horse could pull throug
/ it."
/ thought of the little children waiting
for nae yonder; of their bitter disappoint
ment if | did not come. Then said: &C
am very anxious to go, and am willing t.
pay well for being tal1en''
The landlord, leaning over the bar, asked
GLOW much?"
told him what was willing to pay.
sI'll go get the stage ready he said
After all, 1t was only the higher price b
had been waiting for.
In five minutes the stage was at tn.
: door. 1t was an ordinary box wagon OF
good strong springs, having a cotton cover
open in front. The horse was half
starved, jaded-looking beast. l took al
this in as stood on the porch waiting fol
the driver. Getting impatient at last, ]
asked:
''Where is the driver?"
The landlord, without speaking, pointed
to an ill-clad boy standing atsthe horses
Tread. | looked closely at him. He might
be, thought, fifteen years old, OF he might
be not more than ten. His eyes were clear
blue, and he, hearing my question, turned
them full upon NINE, a frank, boyish smile
rebuking the distrust my words implied,
and lighting up every feature of his deli
cate face. His complexion was like that
of girl, his mouth small and tender, his
hair yellow, his figure slight and sinuous
| looked at him, standing there SILVER
ing with the cold; out through the driving
storm, along the. snow-covered mountain
road wewere to travel together, and asked:
Are you not afraid to go?"
The landlord interrupted:
ut don't matter if he is afraid. He be-
longs to me. He shall CO."
NO." said; che shall not go, if he is
not quite willing"
II am not at all afraid" the boy re-
piled, "and am quite willing to go. I
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 a hearty, CHEEKY ring, that
from that moment trusted and loved the
boy.
jumped into the stage, took the back
seat, drew my great frieze coat close about
my legs, and we drove off from among the
gaping, sooty crowd of miners into the
aonelx mountain road; into the. cruelest
Storm Of wind and snow that I ever saw.
The boy sat on the front seat, waiting to
be spoken to, looking straight ahead.
When we were quite clear of the stray
Cling huts of the miners on the ogtermost
limits of the town, [ asked him his name.
'They call me Lewis Shively," he said.
elbow old are you, Lewis2" was my
next question.
Fourteen, next April, sir.''
'sDo you live at home, with your father
and mother?" ..
"That man yonder is all the father or
mother | have, and his stable loft is the
only home / hrve had since he took me
from the poor-house, That was better
than the stable though, for they taught
me something there.''
S There were no complaining chords in the
tones in which these bitter words were
said, and while he was speaking he was
drawing the long whip gently across the
horses back, brushing off the snow that
had fallen on it.
ssHave you been driving ON this road
long?" [ inquired.
.'Going Oh three years. 1t will be three
years in March,"
els it cold out there? Colder than in
here, | meanP"
II think it ISL lie replied; ssthe wind
and snow cut SO, but I don't mind, sir.
We've got used to rough weather up in
these hills
II wish you would come in here; my
coal Will cover us DOJn. I"
''No, can't" he said. 81 must watch
theroad now. We have to go pretty close
to the precipice sometimes"
elbow cfose?" asked.
s'Within u few inches. I can't see now
five inches ahead, The snow falls so hea-
yily." T'iiR ~ 5hH
''Do you think it safe, then, to go on?''
ssQuite safe, 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.
h Isaid nottalk more then. There were,
/ discovered, wide cracks in the bottom Of
the stage, through which the wind drove
mercilessly. l was chilled through to the
heart in less than an hour after starting
I do not know how far we had gone, OF
how long we had been upon the road whe1
/ heard the boys voice, CHEEKY and bright
asking: ~
.'How are you now, sir ? Feeling pref
| ty comfortable, sir ?''
| nodded my head and crept closer into
| the corner. But he was wiser than [
and could not let me have the sleep covet
| ed.
"You are in a hurry, to get home," hi
said, for want Of something better to sa.
with which to rouse me.
eyes, I replied. II want to be a
| home on Christmas Eve"
ssThe best days l ever knew were CHRIST
mas-a good while ago."
He said this as if he were eyer and eye
50 old, and what was saddeat OF all as if h
were done with Christmas forever. ! tolt
him oil the tree | was to get and hoy
Christmas day was kept in the great cities
He was most interested in the tree, max
| inn me- tell him AGAIN and again about It