The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1877-08-09

1 sufflclent to show Us the Inequalities III
| the height of the snow, by which we are
guessing our path. begin to wish had
staid at home. g Lhomme propose, Dsais
la femme dispose" | sigh to myself; and
| begin to consider whether | may ven
ture co give up the search (Which | have
undertaken purely to satisfy my wife,
for am like John, and won't believe in
Laddie, when suddenly hear a shout
in front of me, and see Donald. who has
all the time been keeping close to Laddie,
drop on his knees and begin digging
wildly in the snow with his hands. We
all rush forward. Laddie has stopped al
what appears to be the foot of stunted
tree, and after scratching and whining
for a moment, sits down and watches
leaving the rest to us. What is it that
appears when we have shoveled away the
snow7 A dark object. Isl bundle OF
rags? Is it-or alasi was it human
being? We raise it carefully and ten
derby, wrap it in one of the warm blan,
kets with which my wife's forethought
has provided us. "Bring the lantern, y
| say huskily; and John holds 1t over
the PROSTATE form of, not as we might
lave expected, some stalwart shepherd
of the hills, but over that OF a poor shrIv-
eled, wrinkled, ragged old woman. try
to pour little brandy down the poor
old throat, but the teeth are so firmly
clenched 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 dc
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.
@ am afraid your mistress will be in
bed" l say, as we begin to retrace our
steps.
Never fear, sir" says Donald with
triumphant glance at John; " the mis-
tress will be up and waitin' for us. She
kens Laddie didna bring Us out in the
shaw for naething."
"Pll never say nought about believing
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 an animal passes me! -
As we reach the avenue gate l dis
patch one of the men for the doctor, who
fortunately lives within a stones throw
of us, and hurry on myself to prepare
my wife for what is coming. She runs
out into the hall to meet me. "Well?''
she asks eagerly.
awe have found a poor old woman, y
/ say; but | do not know whether she
is alive or dead"
My wife throws her arms around me
and gives me great hug.
"You will find dry things and jug
of hot toddy in your dressing-room,
DEAR" she says, and this is all the re-
venge she takes on me for my skepticism.
The poor old woman is carried up stairs
and placed in warm bath under my
wife's direction; and before the doctor
arrives she has shown some faint symp-
! toms of life; so my wife sends me word
DR.. Bruce shakes his head when he sees
her. "Poor old SOUL" he says, chow
came she out on the moor on such a fear
full night? | doubt she has received a
shock, which at her age she will not
easily get over"
They manage, however, to force few
spoonfuls of brandy and hot water down
her throat; and presently faint color
fickers on her cheek, and the poor old
eyelids begin to tremble. My wife
raises her head and makes her swallow
some cordial which DR.. Bruce has brought
with him, and then lays her back among
the soft, warm pillows. q think she
will rally now" says DIR. Bruce, as her
! breathing becomes more audible and reg
ular NouriShment and warmth will
do the rest but she has received q shock
from which, | fear, she will never re,
cover" and so saying, be takes his leave
BY and by | 90 up to the room and
find my wife watching alone by the aged
sufferer. She looks up at me with tears
in her eyes. "Poor old SOUL" she says;
| am afraid she will not rally from the
cold and exposure"
go round to the other side of the bed
and look down upon her. The aged face
looks wan and pinched, and the scanty
gray locks which lie on the pillow are
still wet from the snow She is a very
little woman, as far as | can judge of hen
in her recumbent position, and | should
think must have reached her allotted
three-score years and ten. "Who can
she be-" Irepeat, wonderingly. "She
does not belong to any of the villages
| hereabouts, or we should know her face
| and | cannot imagine what could bring
stranger to the moor ON such a night"
As | speak change passes over her
! face; the eyes Enclosed, and she looks
inquiringly about her. She tries to
speak, but is evidently too weak. Ny
wife rises her, and gives her spoonful
of nourishment, while she says soothing
ly: Don't try to speak. You are
among friends; and when you are better
you shall tell us all about yourself. Lie
still now and try to sleep"
The gray head drops back YEARLY on
the pillow; and soon we have the salts
faction of hearing by the regular respira-
ton that our patient is asleep.
You must come to bed now, Jessie"
| say. 81 shall ring for Mary, and she
can sit up for the remainder of the
night But my wife, who is tender
hearted soul and a born nurse, will not
desert her post; so / leave her watching
and retire to my solitary chamber
When we meet in the morning | find
NIlStl iilO llttIt Olu NOIld1l HIS StlOhtIl d
few words and seems stronger. Come
in with me now" says my wife, "and let
us try to find out who she is" We find
her propped into reclining posture with
pillows, and Mary beside her feeding her
How are you now?" asks JESSIE
bending over her.
"Better, much better, thank you,
good lady" she says in voice which
trembles from age us well as weakness
And very grateful to you for your
goodness"
hear at once by the accent that she
is English. Are you strong enough to
tell me how you got lost on the moor,
and where you came from, and where
you were going?" continues my wife.
"Ah! / was going to my lad, my poor
lad, and now | doubt | shall ever see
him more" says the poor soul, with a
long sigh of weariness.
Where is your lad, and how far have
you Gomez
r. l.