The Columbus journal., 1878-09-04

sheet lightning suddenly illumined
the plain. AT little distance, just
beyond a kind of ridge or gentle
hill, | caught glimpse of something
white. 1t was dark again in mo-
ment, out | made my way with un-
erring instinct. Sure enough, there
lay a poor little child. Whether
boy or girl L could not tell. 1t
seemed TO be three parts insensible
now, as | took it up, dripping with
wet, from the sloppy earth.
"My poor little thing" " | said, as
| hushed il to me. Well go and
find mamma. You are safe now"
"And in answer the child just put
out its feeble hand, moaned once,
and nestled close to me.
With the child hushed to my
breast L rode OH. Its perfect silence
soon showed me that il slept. And,
sir, thanked God that he had let
me save il, and thought how CRATE
ful some poor mother would be
But | was full of wonder for all that,
wondering what strange 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 presently l knew
that something must be the matter,
for the very few neighbors we had
were gathered there. My heart
stood still with fear. [ thought of
some calamity to one or other of the
children. | had saved "A little one
from perishing, but what might not
have happened to my own.
Hardly daring to lift the latch,
while my poor tired horse stood
still and mute outside, | went slow
ly in, the child in my arms covered
over with the flap of my long coat.
My wife was weeping bitterly.
"What's amiSs ?" | asked in faint
voice. And it seemed that a whole
chorus of voices answered me:
"DOlly's lost"
dolly lost~ Just for a moment
my heart turned sick. Then some
instinct, like ray Oflight and hope,
seized upon me. Pulling the coat
off the face of the child held, lift
ed the little sleeping thing to the
light and saw Dolly!
Yes, sir. The child | had saved
was no other than my own-my lit
tie Dolly. And | knew that Gods
good angels had guided me to save
her, and that the first flash of the
summer lightning had shone just at
the right moment TO show me where
she lay. 1t was her white sunbon-
net that had caught my eye. My
darling it was, and none other, that
L had picked up on the drenche d
road.
Dolly, anxious for her doll, had
wandered out unseen TO meet me in
the afternoon. For some hours she
was not missed. 1t chanced that
my two elder girls had gone over
TO our nearest neighbor's, and my
wife, missing the child just after
ward, took it for granted that she
was with them. The little one had
gone Oh and on, until night and the |
storm overlook her, when she fell
down frightened and utterly ex-
hausted. thanked Heaven aloud |
before them all, sir, rs | said that
none but God and His holy angels |
had guided me to her. It's not |
much of story TO listen TO, sir. ] |
am aware of that. But often think |
Oft In the long nights, lying awake
and | ask myself how | could bear
TO live on now, had Irun away from
the poor little cry in the road, hard
ly louder than a squirrels chirp, and
left my child TO die.
Yes, sir, you are right; that's Dol
ly out yOnder with her mother,
picking fruit; the little trim light
figure in pink-with just the same
sort of white sunbonnet on her head
that she wore that night ten years
ago. She is girl that was just
worth saving, sir, though / say it;
and God knows that as long as my
life lasts shall be thankful that |
came on home that night instead Of
staying in the tOwn.-Ecchdnge.