The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-09-19

UIdkCo anu u6oCI1
She struggled forward, but when al
most up to the cars, she stumbled and
fell. With bound, Ward sprang to
her side, lifted her, and handed her to
Dan. McChing, who stood in the rear
car. He then caught up the child, and
turned to spring in, but the train was
already moving. Josh, made utterly
selfish by his fear, had raised the brakes.
Ward ran with the energy of despera-
ton, threw the child into Dams out
stretched arms, and then caught the
last car, where he chung, unable at the
speed they were moving, with his ut
most strength, to do more than keep his
hold.
In few moments they left the green
woods, and passing through the blazing
brush on either side, were almost blinded
and suffocated with the smoke and heat; !;
while burning twigs and bushes fell like
a red-hot shower upon them.
Ward felt his hands blistering, yet
he held fast, and looked up to see if the
pine-tree was still standing. As they
passed under it, the flames had caught
in the long branches, and it stood a
pyramid of fire. On the cars sped.
Another curve was passed, and they
were again in the midst of dense green
wood.
Dan. McChing shouted to his brother
to put down the brakes, and succeeded
in making him stop the train. The two
men then got out, and ran back to pick
up Ward, who had dropped exhausted
before the motion entirely ceased.
They placed him in the cars, and then
allowed the train to run some distance
further, till they felt sure that the
danger was past Coming to little
spring of water near the track, they
again stopped the train, and gathered
round the spring, to wash their burns
and rest little.
Here Ward recognized the poor woman
he had saved as Mrs. Stacey, the wife of
a wood-chopper who was employed to
supply fuel for the engine-house they
Just passed. Her little shanty was right
in the path of the fire. She saw the FIRE
coming, and had time only to catch her
boy and escape to the woods, where
these men had picked her up. She had
lost everything, and feared that her
husband had perished in the flames.
He had gone off with his ak in the
morning, which way she could not tell.
Ward was filled with anxiety about
the woman and her child. He knew
that his two companions would do moth
ing for her, and he must offer her shell
ter in his own home. But he had six
children and an aged mother to support,
and his wife was not one who bore her
burdens lightly.
But the kind-hearted man invited
Mrs. Stacey to accompany him home,
and lifting the boy in his arms when
they left the cars, he strobe on ahead to
show her the narrow path.
They passed several houses, and ap-
preached pretty white cottage. With
thrill of Joy, Ward listened to the
merry voices Of his children.
In a moment more ne opened the door
.on a bright family picture. The table
was spread, and his children were
gathered round it, except the little
twins, who were already in their cribs,
while in the midst of them sat the old
grandmother, smiling placidly at their
lively chatter.
Ward gave Mrs. Stacey a seat, and
placed the boy on her lap; then, after
introducing her to his mother, he asked
anxiously for his wife.
She was in the kitchen, looking tired
and worried. He saw this, as he began
in low tone to explain to her who
their visitor was, and her claims upon
their hospitality.
But in loud, angry veice she inter
rupted him, saying, Now, John, that's
Just like you-takiDg the food and cloth
ing from your own family to give to
beggars. Here am slavin' and wor-
ryin from mornin' to night to take care
of all these children and your old
mother, yet you bring two more you've
picked up, and expect me to feed and
provide for themp'
But, wife, couldn't leave the poor
woman to perish in the flames, or re-
main homeless and supperless this chilly
night"
Mrs. Ward was not heartless woman
She was thrifty, and anxious to gel
ahead, and had much to try her. i
distressed her to find that, manage a!
economically as she could, she coulc
hardly keep John out of debt. Jus
then she laid it all to her husband
charity to others. Therefore, seeing
only her side of the argument, sh'
said
'"Why must you always be saddlet
with such people? They see you ar
easily imposed upon, and so we have t.
bear the consequences"
Mrs. Stacey could not help hearing
this conversation. Putting down he
/ child, she walked to the kitchen door
and opening it, said, in faltering tone
4 "Mrs. Ward, !. Pm no beggar. Thi
morning / was in my own home. Thi
afternoon the fire came, and l had t
fee before it. Ny house and every
thing in it were burned to ashes. MI
Ward saved my life and my boys, at
risk don't dare think of. May tn
Lord reward him for his kindness
He asked me to his house to pass th
night; but Tll not stay where Pm nc
wanted, nor be the cause of strife. Ma
, the devouring flames never leave you {
homeless and friendless as they ha1
left me-"
: These words touched Mrs. Ward. 4
Mrs. Stacey turned away, she sprar
towards her land said, earnestly
j. sob, forgive me! 1 did not thir
t what you had endured. You shall sta
i and Pll give you the best the hou
t affords. Come, let's all sit down to te
e Then, John, you must tell US everythil
about the fire and your escape"
l. She turned pale and trembled as 8
IS listened to his account of the fearf
5, risks they had run.
"John," asked his old mother, "w
h the fire reach usp
" "I think not. 1t is not spreading
h this direction, and l trust we are p
.e fectly SAFE"
(, Yet, with fear in their hearts, tt
lie night, before retiring, John Ward a
d, his wife went out and climbed hi
= rock near the house, where they col
see if danger threatened. But arou
ye them was only the green, dewy woo
IL and above, the clear, peaceful starlig
1e Feeling relieved, they sought the r
ID so much needed.
ly The next morning messenger ca
I'd to the little village to say that the
he was spreading with fearful rapidity, g