Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1877-12-27
CHRISTMAS EVE.
A Sketch From Life.

EtTeT WHO'LL 1iSb pun lIlc iOllclN pain
into which | had struck on quitting the
hard. firm road. The wind had risen
as the sun went down behind the rocky
Tors to the westward, and the piercing
gale that now blew brought with it such
snow, as only, think, does fall on Dart
moor in midwinter Chilled, in spite of
the warm shawl [ wore, by the biting
blasts, and dazzled by the thick flakes
that whirled and glittered as they swept
by, l pressed on, quickening my space
homewards.
Ihad fingered too long in the village
street, whittier had gone to make some
few final purchases needed for our mer-
~ Christmas dinner, and now the moor
land storm had set in with all its fury,
and the homeward walk to the farm
would be difficult. and might even be
dangerous.
One hesitating look I threw back at
the lights ofthe village far behind, and
then, remembering that | should be
l'anxiously expected at home, pushed
resolutely on across the snowy moor,
the darkness appearing to thicken at
every instant Faster and faster fell the
snow, clinging to my wet hair, dancing
before my bewildered eyes, and almost
obliterating the cart-ruts which alone
Indicated the rough road that had to
traverse.
Often had listened by the ireside to
stories of belated travellers lost upon
the moor Should [ once stray from
the track, [ might wander over the
boundless waste until my strength failed
me, as theirs had done, and, as they had
done, lie down exhausted to die. As ii
was, by the time I had walked two
miles through the storm, [ began TO
grow feeble, my steps were slow, and
the light basket [ carried on my arm
seemed to nave grown strangely heavy.
Buffeted by the raging wind, | tottered
YEARLY on through the snow-heaps.
The farm, to the best of my belief,
was but about half mile off; but [ be-
gan to doubt, benumbed as I was by the
intensity OF the cold, and spent with the
toll Of struggling with the tempest,
whether | should ever reach it. | felt
a heavy dowsiness Cypress me, and
longed to lie down and rest for but
few minutS, before resuming the battle
with the Wild weather. But rest in
such case means sleep; and sleep,
death. Something of the instinct which
makes q hunted animal strain every
nerve to dieat home urged me on, and
[ continuedto press forward. As did
SO. cry reached my ears-the cry of a
child in distress 1t was repeated, and
turned bwards the quarter from
whence cane the sound, and then
hesitated Well [ knew that if | ex-
pended the asst dregs of my strength in
plodding Though the drifts, the chance
of my reaching the farm was small in
deed And5hen it might not be child
that had uttered the cry, but merely
the bleating of stray sheep. Pru-
dence warnd me to hurry on home
wards.
No, no, nc! I dared not hearken to
the whisper, of selfishness, dared not
salve my conscience with the plausible
idea that the cry which / had heard
my ear to the plaintive appeal that
had reached me, and, praying to God
that mightfnd mercy for the sake of
the dear one at home, [ turned towards
the tiny supoliant. Yes, sure enough,
there were he prints of little feet, al
ready half Hotted out in the snow; and
following Onthe track, [ came at last
to high bank, and a deep, feecy drift,
where in tie white hollow crouched
some score Of sheep huddled together,
and amongst them, apparently asleep
or dead, little chilli, her pale face pill
lowed on ontof her woolly companions.
And then [ knew her-my own, my
only one, nv little three-year-old dar-
ling, our Rosie, that [ thought so safe
and warm It home; and | staggered
forward, ami knelt and took her to my
bosom, and hafed her cold hands, and
wrapped ny shawl around her, and
then-and ten all grew dark.
How long the lethargy brought on by
extreme odd may have, in my case,
endured, I lever knew. But remem-
Der that [ leard a rough, kind voice
call out, "Keep Carstone back Don't
let him lod1-they're both dead, poor
things !"
And thenthe swoon came on again,
and the blank, black darkness swallow
ed up all.
But whm [ came back to life it
seemed like a forI taste of heaven,so gay
and cheerful was the look of the warm
cosey honpplace, with its glowing fire
of crimson peat and blazing wood; and
wherever my wondering eyes turned,
was some kind neighborly face with
which [ WIS we'll acquainted. [ lay on
a bed thathad been drawn close to the
blaze, wrapped in cloaks and blankets,
while neir me knelt q strong man,
Frank Crstone-dear, good Frank
my own brave, kind young husband, to
whom [ had been married but four short
years, since first he brought me to the
moorland farm. And there was Rosie
darling, hlue-eyed Rosie, no longer, as
when last saw her, lying like dead
white lamb among the sheep and drifted
snow, but well and strong, and with her
dear blue eyes fixed lovingly on "poor
mammals y pale face. Then l must
have tainted again, but it was from sur
prise, not pain; and soon [ could speak
and stir, and be as one of the waking
world again.
We lad Il merry Christmas dinner
next day, after all, the merriest | ever
knew, With Rosie's tiny chair drawn
close to mine-I could not bear to be
away from her-and Frank beside me,
blithe and loving, and thankful too for
the wife and child that had been spared
to him Rosie had wandered out, it
seemed following the strayed sheep of
one of those very neighbors who had
joined with Frank in seeking for the
truant; but had [ not come up when I
did, the child could hardly have sur
vived till rescue came. That happened
years ago. Happy Christmases have
come and gone since then, but never
can | think without shudder of that
Christmas Eve upon Dartmoor.