The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1877-03-27
HOW DOLLY WAS SAVED.


house within sight for miles. Even now
we have not many neighbors; but those
we have are downright good ones; to ap-
preciate your neigubors as you ought,
Sir, you must just live in those lonely
places, SO Tar removed from the haunts
OF man.
What am about to tell happened ten
years ago. l was going to the distant
town, or settlement, to sell some fifty
head of cattle-hne creatures, as ever
you saw. The journey was more rare
event with me then tnan it is now; and
my wife had always plenty of commits
slOns to charge me with in the shape of
dry goods ana groceries, and such-like
things.
Our youngest child was a sweet little
gentle thing, who mad been named after
her Aunt Dorothy. We called the child
Dolly. This time my commissions iU-
cluded one for her-a doll. Sne had
never had a real doll-that is, a bought
doll; only the rag bundles her mother
made Eor her. For some days before my
departure The child could talk of nothing
else-or we, either, for the matter OF
that-tor she was a great pet, the dar-
ling of us all. IL was to be big, big
doll, with golden hair and blue eyes. l
shall never forget the child's words the
morning L was starting, as she ran after
me to the gate, or the pretty picture she
made. There are some children sweeter
and pretJier than others, sir, as you
can't have but noticed, and Dolly was
one.
GA very great big doll, please, daddy"
she called out alter me. 'And please
bring it very SOON"
| turned to nod II Yes to her, as she
stood in her clean White-broWn pinafore
against the gate, her nut-broWn hair
falling in curls about her neck, and the
light breeZ! stirring them.
"a brave doll" l answered, "for my
little one; almost as big as Dolly"
Nobody wolld believe, dare say, how
full my thoughts were OF that promised
doll, as rode along, or what a nice one
| meant to by. 1t was not often l spent
money in what my good, thrifty vile
would have called waste; but Dolly was
Dolly, and meant to do it now.
The cattle sold, went about my pur-
chases, and soon had no end of parcels
to be packed in the saddlebags. Tea,
sugar, rice, candles-Dut l need not
weary you, sir, with telling of them, to-
gether win the calico for shirts and
nigntgowns, and the delaine Tor the
cDildren's new frocks. Last of all, /
went about the doll and found beauty.
1t was not as big as Dolly, or halt as big
but it had flaXen curls and Sky blue
eyes; and by dInL of pulling a wire you
could open or shut the eyes at will.
"Do IT up caretu!ly," l said to the
sto iekeeper, "My little daughter would
cry sadly if any harm came to it,"
The day was pretty we'll ended before
all my work was done; and just tor
moment or two l nesltaLed whether |
should NOT stay in the town and start for
nome in The morning. 1t would have
been the more prudent course. But
thought of poor DOlIy's anxiety to get
her treasure, and of my own happiness
in watching the rapture in her Delighted
eyes. SO with my parcels packed IN the |
best way they could be, L mounted my
horse and started.
IL was as good and steady horse as
you ever rode, sir; Dut nIglt began to |
set in before l was well mile away
from the town; it seemed as ii it We're
going TO be an ugly night, too. Again
The thought struck me-Snould | turn
back ana wait till mornIngS l had the
price Of the cattle, you see, Sir, in my
breast pocket; ana robberles, aye, anu
also, were not quite unknown
things on the prairie. But l had my
brace OF sure pistols with me, and de-
cIded to press OnWards.
The night came on as dark as pitch |
and part OF the way my road would be
pitch dark besides. But on that score |
mad no fear; knew the road well, every
inch OF it; though could not ride SO fast
as l should have done in the light. l
was about six miles from home, | sup
pose, and knew the time must be close
upon midnIght, when the storm Which
mad been brewing broke. The thunder
roared, the rain tell in torrents; the best
l could do was to press onwards in it.
All at once, as l rode on, cry
startled me; faint, wailing SOUND, like
the cry of u child. Refining up, L saL
still and listened. Had L been mis-
taken2 No, there 1t was again. But in
what direction l could not Tell. !
couldp see thing; it was, as I have
said, as dark as pilch. Getting off my
horse, l Ielt about, ,abuL could lind moth
ing. And while / was see&irg, the cry
came again; tbe faint moan OF cnIId in |
pain. Then l began TO wonder. l am
not superstitious; but l asked myself |
how it was possible that child could |
De out on the prairie al such an hour and |
and in such night. No; Il real child it |
could not be.
u ION thai, came another thought-one |
less welcome; was IL trap 10 hinder |
me on my way and ensnare me? There |
might be midnight robbers who would
easily hear OF my almost certain ride
home that night, and OF the money |
should have ABOUT me.
/ don't think, sir, l am more timd
than other people; not SO much so, pei
maps, as some; put confess the idea
made me uneasy. My best plan was to
,ide OIL as fast as l could, and get out of
,he mystery into safe quarters. Just
lere Was about the darkest bit of road |
II all the route. Mounting my horse, |
Was about to urge hlm OIL, when the CT,
,ame again. 1T did sound like a cnilu's:
he plaintIve wall OF a clild nearly ex-
lau7teQ.
"God guide mew | said, undecided
what 10 do. And as l sat another mo-
nent listening, l once more heard the
Try, fainter and more iaint. threw
myself of my horse, with an eXciama-
ion.
''Be it ghost, or be it rObber, Anthony
Hunt is not one 10 abandon child W
lie without trying to help IT,"
But how was Ito sayelt?-how find it?I
The more l searched about, the less
;ould my hands light on anything save
he sloppy earth. The voice had quite
,easeu now, 50 4 had no guide from uuat.
While l stood trying TO peer into the