The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1876-04-20

arch, slender, tottering. And o, sight
for parents eyes,-on the other side
two little children, wringing their hand,
and weeping, in the extremity of theil
terror
Their cries are borne to the agonized
listeners, but what can they do? They
can see the place is flooded by the back
waters of the creek, and that the little
children are mounted on a log just out
of the water; but they know, too, that
| the waters are rising, and that soon
/ they may be washed away.
The men were no. good swimmers,
but even if they had been, the strongest
swimmer could never breast that rag
/ inc torrent, filled with logs and debris
of every kind, lashing against each
other.
Pierre Laclede made staggering step
towards the arch; but before his foot
touched it, came sudden strain Of his
wound, and he sank on the ground in a
merciful swoon.
Louis, as bright-eyed and alert as
usual, pressed forward, measured the
arch with his eyes, frightened the leather
belt around his waist, and in clear
voice cried cut, "P1&y- fo4 US, my
friends"
Before a word could be raised in re-
mOnstrance, he had made several steps
forward on the arch. Some of the
spectators covered their faces with their
hands. How could they bear to see the
death of the boy they all loved so well.
In moment more his flying steps (for
he hardly seemed to touch the rotten
timbers) had brought him to the center,
where the waves dashed most furiously,
and the arch leaned most. A few more
leaps, and he was with the children.
The wind and rain had lulled, and
through the misty twilight the specta-
tors could family discern the tall figure
of the lad, lifting the boy on his shoul-
der, thus leaving his arms free for the
little girl, whom he next took up.
He made one cautious step on the
arch. Then he hesitated and moved
back. Evidently he felt that the weight
was too great for the frail support. One
moment of hesitation, and he kissed the
little girl, said word or two, and placed
her on the log again.
Once more, bearing the boy alone, he
advanced on the arch, which moved be-
meath his heavier steps. He could no
longer skim over it, but moved eau
tiously, balancing himself, with out
spread arms, like bird in the air.
The vachers crowded to the end of
the arch to assist him; but when with
in few steps of them, he placed the
boy on his feet, who easily managed to
reach the outstretched arm of the men,
and was drawn on the bank.
Louis turned quickly, and was back
again on his perilous path before a word
was uttered.
In breathless silence they watched
him, and their experienced eyes saw
that not only was the lads strength fail
ing him, but that the supports of the
arch could no longer bear the constant
dash of the furious stream. 1t bent ut
his every step, and they saw him once
totter and press his hand to his head
"He has vertigo" whispered one,
and poor Pierre Laclede, who, recover
ING from bis swoon, had dragged him
self to the bridge to receive his boy, ut
tered a stifled cry.
I" No, mol" cried another "Seel he
has reached the shore. He binds little
Elida to his waist with his laSso, lie
is on the arch again! Look! look"
The timbers supporting the upper
end of the arch, which Louis had Just
passed, Sink, with heavy crash, into
the water He tottered, almost lost his
balance, for the whole mass, now quiv-
eriHg to its downfall, seemed to offer
no foothold to human being.
lie reached the center, moved few
wavering steps beyond, then, with
noise like thunder, the whole structure
toppled over, bearing with it the brave
young life, so near the goal of safety.
But not to death. No, not to death.
He fell where collection of debris had
checked the furious waters; and near
enough to the shore, too, to receive in
slant help. The child, though severely
bruised, was not seriously injured. A
line more to right or left, would have
brought them on the fallen timber, or
in the very heart of the foaming tor
rent.
Ahi thank God for this narrow line,
invisible to mortal eyes, by which He so
often spans the gulf of death for the
safety of those whose lives are precious
in his sight. Thank Him, too, for the
quiet heroism of many obscure lives,
like that of the boy whose story ! have
tried to tell.
Should you ask him to-day if he did
not do very heroic act in periling his
life for his friends children, he would
shrug his shoulders and answer
:" But who else was to do it? was
lighter than the others, and Pierre La
clede was my best friend, and | loved
his children. Itwas only my duty, even
if l had died in saving them" "-YO1tth'S
C0nlpan1o,s.