St. Landry democrat., 1878-09-07
a night. No; real child it could not be.

!
Upon that came another thought
ore less welcome: Was it trap to him
der me on my way and ensnare me7
There might be midnight robbers who
would easily hear of my almost certain
ride home that night, and of the money
I should have about me.
I don't think, sir, I am more timid
than other poople-not as much 30.
perhaps, az some; but confess the
idea made me uneasy. Ny best plan
was to ride on as fast as could, and
get out of the mystery into safe quar-
tiers. Just here was about the darkest
bit of road in all the route. Mounting
my horse, was about to urge him on,
when the cry came again. 1t did sound
like child's-the plaintive wall of a
child nearly exhausted.
"God guide mel" I said, undecided
what to do. As sat another moment,
listening, I once more heard the cry,
fainter and more faint. | threw myself
off my horse with an exclamation.
''Be it ghost or be it robber, Anthony
Hunt is not one to abandon child to
die without trying to save it."
But how was I to save it9 how find
it? The more I searched about tie less
could my hands light on anything, save
the sloppy earth. The voice had quite
ceased now, SO had no guide from that.
While I stood trying to peer into the
darkness, all my ears alert, a food of
sheet lightning suddenly illumined the
plain. At little distance, just be-
yond a kind of ridge or gentle hill, I
caught glimpse of something white.
It was dark again in moment, but I
made my way with unesting instinct.
Sure enough, there lay poor little child.
Whether boy or girl I could not tell. 1t
seemed to be three parts insensible now,
as took it up, drip ping with wet, from
the sloppy earth.
"My poor little thing?' said, as l
pushed it to me. "We'll 60 and find
nanny, You are safe now"
And in answer the child just put out
it's feeble hand, moaned once, and
nestled close to me.
With the child hushed to nv breast ]
rode on. Its perfect silence soon showed
me that it slept. And, sir, I thanked
God that he had let me save it, and !
thought how grateful some poor mother
would be! But l was full of wonder
for all that, wondering what
extraordinary fate had taken any young
child to that solitary spot.
Getting in sight of home, saw all the
windows alight. Deborah had done it
for me thought, to guide me home in
safety through the darkness. But pres
emily I knew that something must be the
matter, for the very few neighbors we
had were gathered there. Ny heart
stood still with fear. I thought of some
calamity to one or the other of the chill
dren. had saved little one from per-
ishing, but what might not have hap
pened to nv own.
Hardly daring to lift the latch, while
my poor tired horse stood still and mute
outside, 1 went slowly in, the
child in my arms covered over with
the flap of my long coat. My wife was
weeping bitterly.
What's amiss?' % I asked in a faint
voice. And it seemed that whole
chorus of voices answered me:
"Dolly's lost p
"Dolly lostv' Just for a moment my
heart turned sick. Then some instinct,
like ray of light and hope, seized upon
me. Pulling the coat off the face of the
child I held, I lifted the little sleeping
thing to the light and saw Dollyl
Yes, sir. The child I had saved was
no other than my own-my little Dolly.
And 1 knew that God g good angels had
guided me to save her, and that the
first fash of the summer lightning had
shone just at the right moment to show
me where she lay. Tt was her white
sunbonnet that had caught my eye. My
darling it was, and none other, that had
picked up on the drenched road.
Dolly, anxious for her doll, had wan
dered out unseen to meet me in the
afternoon. For some hours she was not
missed. 1t CHANGED that my two elder
girls had gone over to our nearest
neighbours, and my wife, missing the
child just afterward, took it for granted
she was with them. The little one had
gone on and on, until night and the
storm overlook her, when she fell
down frightened and utterly exhausted.
I thanked heaven aloud before them
all, sir, as said that none but |
God and his holy angels had |
guided me to her. It's not much of a |
story to listen to, sir. I am aware of |
that. But I often think of it in the long
nights, lying awake and [ ask myself |
how | could bear to live on now, had I
run away from the poor little cry in the
road, hardly louder than squirrels
chirp, and left my child to die.
Yes, sir, you are right; that's Dolly
out yender with her mother, picking
fruit; the little trim light figure in pink
with just the same sort of white sun.
bonnet on her head that she wore that