The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1879-05-27
THE LOST CHILD.


and, taking my carpet-bag, sprang out
upon the platform of the little station.
My brief holiday day over, and, with a
shrug, prepared for my short walk
through the morning air, looking for
ward to the good fire and delicious cup
of coffee was sure Mrs. Watson was
keeping for me.
1t was very rare event for me to
leave the village whose name heads this
story. My father had been the only
resident physician there, from the time
when was boisterous schoolboy up to
the hour when, in his professional
rounds, he fell dead with heart-disease
In the main street, leaving me, his here
tofore assistant, sole heir to his name,
property and practice. Ten years before,
they had carried my dear mother to the
little churchyard, and installed Mrs.
Watson house-keeper In her place. The
villagers were willing to let the young
doctor step into his fathers place beside
their sick beds, and so for five years l
had taken no holiday. So when an invi-
tation came from my old college friend
and since correspondent, Clement Payne,
to spend Christmas with him at his
fathers place on the Hudson, / was
sorely tempted to accept and finally con-
cluded to do so.
It was literally Christmas l spent,
leaving home at midnight on the oath,
and my friends house exactly twenty
four hours later. 1t had been pleasant
break in the monotony of my life, and
rs l stood at sunrise on the Hopedale
station platform, 1 was sure my recrea-
ton would give me new vigor for my
daily duties.
AS l turned to descend the steps lead
ing to the road, some impulse, nay, a
Providence, led me to look in at the
window of the room, by courtesy
" Ladies' Room" of the station. 1t
was cold and desolate. No fire was
lighted and there was no furniture,
unless the hard wooden benches against
the walls could be so denominated. But
curled up on one of these benches, Sleep
ing soundly, lay a strange child. His
dress of rich fur-trimmed velvet, the
warm fur cap, long CATERS and mittens,
spoke of wealth and care, and the pale
face, round which clustered short curls
Of a sunny brown, was round with
health and wonderfully beautiful. He
was no Hopedale child; L knew them
all. My professional instinct made my
a. \, ,,;l x,,tf1 cYrIHa,, chnolr op I
caught sight of the pale face, for well L
knew the danger of that deep sleep in
the biting winter air. How long had he
been there? Was he already dead?
were the questions asked myself as L
strode across the room and lifted him
in my arms. There was no breath came
from the white lips, no throb at the
wrist, only faint, very faint fluttering
under my fingers as pressed them over
the baby heart. Mantling him warmly
in my heavy cloak, tore down the steps
and raced along the road homeward at
pace that would have amazed my pa
tients, had any of them been awake at
that early hour.
Allowing Mrs. Watson no time for
amazement, pressed her into service,
and in what she called "jiffy" we had
the little form undressed, in my bed, and
undergoing the most vigorous treat
ment. 1t was so long before we were
successful that my heart almost failed
me; but at last the faint heart-throbs
grew stronger, color came to the pale
lips and cheeks, and pair of large
brown eyes appeared from under the
heavily y-friDged lids / had watched so
anXiously.
Only look of sleepy inquiry was Wis
ible, as he stared moment at me; then,
obeying my order to drink the warm
food Mrs. Watson, held to his lips, my
little patient closed his eyes again, and
turned over to finish his nap. He was
safe now, knew; so, leaving him TO
Mrs, Watson's care, (who by this time
knew as much about him as L did), 1
went to sleep myself, to be ready for the
days duties.
1t was nearly nine o'clock when my
housekeeper reused me to say tina
breakfast was ready, and the child
awake.
Very wide awake | found him-the
glorious brown eyes staring round my
room, taking in every detail of its ar
rangement.
"Who are yous How did get hereY
Am nearly at AustraliaY ? Who's that
man in the nicture Yn were the questions