The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1877-08-15

myself; and begin 10 consider whether
l may venture to give up the search
| (Which | have undertaken purely to sat
| sfy my wife, for ! am like John, and
won't believe in Laddie, when sudden
| " hear a shout in front of me, and see
| Donald, who has all the time been keep.
ing close to Laddie, drop on his knees
and begin digging wildly in the snow
with his hands We will rush forward
Laddie has stopped at what appears to
be foot of the stunted tree, and after
| scratching and whining for moment
| sits down and watches, leaving the rest
| to US. What is it that appears when we
| have shoveled away the snow? A dark
| object. Is it bundle Of rags? Is it-or
alas was it human being? We raise it
| carefully and teLderly, wrap it in one Of
the warm blankets with which my wife's
| forethought has provided US. Bring the
lantern" | say huskily; and John holds
/ it over the PROSTATE form Of, not as we
might have expected, some stalwart shep-
herd of the hills, but over that of poor
| shriveled, wrinEled, ragged old woman.
| try to pour a little brandy down the
poor old throat, but the teeth are so firm
/ ly clentched that | cannot.
''Best get her home as quickly as may
| be, sir; the mistress will know better
what to do for her nor we do, if so be the
| poor creature is not past help, says John,
turning instinctively, as we all do in
| sickness or trouble, to woman's aid.
So we improvise sort of hammock of
the blankets, and gently and tenderly
the men prepare to carry their poor help
less burden over the snow.
81 am afraid your mistress will be
in bed,' | say, as we begin to retrace our
steps.
"Never fear, Sir" says Donald with a
triumphant glance at John; 1.-The mistress
will be up and waitin for US. She kens
Laddie didua brings us out in the shaw
for naething."
"PII never say noUght about believing
a dawg again, says John, gracefully
striking his colors. You were right
and | was wrong, and that's all about it ;
but to think there should be such sense
in animal passes me p
As we reach the avenue gate dispatch
one of the men for the doctor, who for
tunately lives within a stones throw of
US, and hurry on myself to prepare my
wife for what is coming She runs out
asks eagerly.
eve have found poor oil woman, -
| say; "but | do not know whether she
is alive or dead"
NY wife throws her arms round me
and gives me great hug.
, 'FY GU will find dry things and a jug O.
hot toddy in your dressing room, dear,
she says; and this is all the revenge she
, takes on me for my skepticism. The
poor old woman is carried up stairs anC
placed in a warm bath under my wife.
, direction and before the doctor arrives
she has shown some faint symptoms o
life; so my wife sends me word. DIR
Bruce shakes his head when he sees her
"Poor old soul" he says chow came
she out on the moor on such a fearful
3 nights | doubt she has reached shock
which at her age she will not easily &c
: over"
They manage, however, to force few
| spoOnfuls of hot brandy and water dow,
2 her throat; and presently faint coloI
fickers on her cheek, and the poor ole
eyelids begin to tremble. My wife raise.
her head and makes her swallow SOM
cordial which DIR. Bruce has brough
. with him, and then lays her back among
t the soft warm pillows 81 think she viii
| rally now," says DIR. Bruce, as her breath
, ing becomes more audible and regular
"Nourishment and warmth will do tn
e rest; but she has received a shock from
which, fear, she will never recover ;
s and so saying he takes his leave.
: BY and by go up TO the room an,
V find my wife watching alone by the age
sufferer. She looks up at me with tear
e in her eyes. ''Poor old SOUL" she says
y 81 am afraid she will not rally from tn
cold and exposure"
/ go around to the other side of tn
e bed and look down upon her. The age
face looks which wan and pinched, an
2 the scanty gray locks which lie on tn
pillow are still wet from the snow. Sh
V is a very little woman, as far as | ca
+ Judge Of her in her recumbent position
+ and | should think must have reache
s her allotted three score years and tel
"Who can she be-" | repeat, wonderful
? ly. ''She does not belong to any of tn
e villages hereabouts, or we should kno1
d her face and | cannot imagine wins
/. could bring stranger to the moor on sue
e night"
e As ! speak a change passes over he
h face the eyes unclose, and she lool
r nquiringly about her. She tries to spea
[ but is evidently too weak. My wife raise
/, her, and gives her a spoonful of nourist
e ment, while she says soothingly; don
Y try to speak. You are among friends
l. and when you are better you shall tell I
If all about yourself. Lie still now and IL
l. to sleep"
The gray head dropped back wearil
d on the pillow; and soon we have tt
t satisfaction of hearing by the reguls
n respiration that our patient is asleep.
G "You must come to bed now, Jessie
I say. 81 shall ring for Mary, and 81
'e can sit up for the remainder of the night
n But wife, who is a tender hearted sol
and born nurse, will not desert h
y post; so | leave her watching and retil
to my solitary chamber.
Is When we meet in the morning | fin
if that the little old woman. has spoken
h few words and seems stronger. ''Com
lie in with me now" says my wife, "aI
1t let US try to find out who she is" "
is find her propped into reclining postu
ID with pillows, and Mary beside her feedir
n her.
Is "How are you now?" asks Jessi
to bending over her.
h Better, much better, thank you, goo
he lady" she says in a voice which trembl
(, from age as we'll as weakness. car
a very grateful to you for your goodness
to L hear at once, by the accent, that 81
is English. care you strong enough
Id tell me how you got lost on the moo
g and where you came from, and whe
1t YOU were going ?" continues NV wife.
We "Ahl Was going to my lad, n
10 poor lad, and now = | doubt l shall nev,
I'd see him Wore," says the poor soul, with