Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1877-09-13
SAvED BY LIGHTNING.

Wilds Yes, sir; it's little else
than wilds now, but you should have
seen it when me and my wife first
moved up here, There was not Q
house in sight for miles. Even now
we havn't many neighbors; but
those we have are downright good
ones. To appreciate your neighbors
rs you ought, sir, you must live In
these lonely places, so far removed
from the haunts of man.
What am about to tell happened
ten years ago. / was going TO the
distant town, or settlement, to sell
some fifty head of cattle-fine crea-
lures, sir, as ever you saw. The
journey was more rare event with
me then than it is now, and my wife
had always plenty Of commissions to
charge me with IN the shape of dry
goods and groceries. and such like
Il ings.
Our youngest child was a sweet
little gentle thing, who had been
named after her aunt Dorothy. We
called the child Dolly. This time
my commission included one for her
IA doll. She had never had a real
doll; that is, a bought doll; only
the rag bundles her mother made
for her, For some days before my
departure the child could talk of
nothing else-or we, either, for the
matter of that-fcr she was a great
pet, the darling of us all. 1t was to
be q big, big doh, with golden hair
and blue eyes. i shall never forget
the child's words the morning was
starting, as she ran after me to the
gate, or the pretty picture she MADE.
There are some children sweeter aud
prettier than others, sir, as you can
have but noticed, and Dolly was
one.
"a very great big doll, please. dad
dy," she called out after me; land
please bring liz very soon.''
/ turned 10 nod a yes TO her as she
stood in her clean whitey-brown
pinafore against the gate, her nut
brown hair falling in curls about her
neck. and the light breeze stirring
them.
"a brave doll,'' answered, "for
my little one-almost as big as Dol
ly.
Nobody would believe, dare say,
how full my thoughts we're Of that
pronised doll, as I rode along, or
what a nice one meant to buy. 1t
WIS not often | spent money in
what my good thrifty wife would
have called waste, but Dolly was
Dolly. and I meant to do it now.
The cattle sold, / went about my
purchase and soon had no end OF
parcels to be packed In the saddle
bags. Tea. sugar, rice, candles
but need not worry you, sir, with
telling of them-together with the
calico for shirts and night gowns,
End the aeiaine for the children's
frocks. Last OF all I went about
the doll-and found beauty. 1t
was not as big as DolleY, or half a
big; but it had Gaxen curls and sky
blue eyes. and by dint Of pulling a
wire yon could open and shut thes
eyes at will.
'.Do it up carefully" I said 10
the storekeeper. my little daught-
er would cry sadly if any harm
should happen it,"
The day was pretty well ended
before all my work was done, and
Just for moment or two hesitated
whether | should not stay in the
town and start for home in the
morning, IL would have been the
more prudent course. But thought
of poor Dolly's anxiety to get her
treasure, and my own happiness in
watching the rapture in her delight
ed eyes. So with my parcels pack
ed ir the best way they could be, I
mounted my horse and started.
Tt was as good and steady horse
rs you ever rode, sir, but night be-
gan to set in before I was we'll a
mile away from the town. It seemed
rs if it were going 60 be an
ugly night, too. Again the thought
struck me-should / t9rn back and
wait till morning ? had the price
of the cattle, you see, sir, in my
breast pocket; and robberies, aye,
and murders also, were not quite
unknown things on the prairie.
But ! had my brace Of sure pistols
with me. and decided to press on
ward.
The night came on as dark as
pitch, and part of the way my road
would be pitch dark besides. But
on that score / had no fear. L
knew the road well, every inch of
it. though I could not ride SO fast as