The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1881-01-28

rlue IL.
Il amt a deridin of EN-, says John.
Il only say as how if they be so very
'Ye wull, though We wull, says old
Donald, as he hurries forward after
Laddie, who has now settled down into
swinging trot and is taking his way
straight across the loneliest part of the
bleak moor.
The cold wind almost cuts us in two,
and whrls the snow into our faces, near
ly binding us. My fnger-tips are be-
coming numbed, icicles hang from my
moustache and beard, and my feet and
legs are soaking wet, even through my
shooting-boots and stout leather legg-
ings.
The moon has gone in again, and the
light from the lantern we carry is barely
sufficient to show us the inequalities in
the height of the snow, by which we are
guessing at our path, begin to wish
had staid at home. sLhoD,nee propose,
n.ais Ia femme dispose, sigh to my
sell, and | begin to consider whether |
may venture to give up the search,
(Which l have undertaken purely to sat
isfy my wife, for am like John, and we
wont believe in Laddie,) when, sudden
ly, l hear shout in front of me. and
see Donald, who has all the time been
keeping close to Laddie, drop on his
knees and begin digging wildly in the
snow with his hands We all rush for
ward. Laddie has stopped at what APP
pears to be the foot of a stunted tree,
and after scratching and whining for a
moment, sits down and watches, leaving
the rest to us. What is it that appears
when we have shoveled away the snow?
A dark object Is it bundle of rags?
Is it-or, alas! was it-a human being7
We raise it carefully and tenderly, and
wrap it in one of the warm blankets with
which wife's forethought has provi-
ded u
Bring me the lantern l say huskily,
and John holds it over the PROSTATE
form of, not as we might have expected,
some stalwart shepherd of the hills, but
over that of poor, shrivelled, wrinkled,
ragged old woman. try to pour little
brandy down the poor old throat, but
the teeth are so firmly clenched that l
cannot.
Get her home as quickly as may be,
sir; the mistress will know better what
to do for no we do, if so be the poor
creature is not past help, turning instinct
lively, as we all do in sickness or trouble,
to womans aid.
So we improvise a sort of hammock
of the blankets, and gently and tenderly
the men prepare to carry their poor,help-
less burden over the snow.
i am afraid your mistress will be in
bed. l say, as we begin to retrace our
steps.
Never fear, sir says Donald, with a
triumphant glance at John; the mistress
will be up aud waiting foru She kens
Laddie dinna bring us out in the snow
for naething.
I'll never say naught about believing
dawg agin', says John, gracefully
striking his colors. You were right, and
| was wrong; but to think there should
be such sense in an animal passes me!
As we reach the avenue gate L des-
patch one of the men for the doctor,who
fortunately lives within stones throw
of us, and hurry on myself to prepare
nv wife for what is coming. She runs
out into the hall to meet me. 'Well?'
she asks eagerly.
we have found poor old woman,
say, but l do not know whether she is
alive or dead
Nv wife throws her arms around me
and gives me a great hug.
You will find dry things and jug OF
hot toddy in your dressing room
dear, she says; and this is all the
revenge she takes on me for my skepti,
cism. The poor old woman is carried
up stairs and placed in warm bath un
der my wifes direction; and before the
doctor arrives she has shown some faint
symptoms of life; so my wife sends me
word. DR.. Bruce shakes his head when
he sees her. Poor old soul, he says;
how came she out on such fearful
night? | doubt she has received shock
which, at her age, she will not easily get
over.
Thev manage, however, to force a
few spoonfuls of the hot brandy and
water down her throat and presently a
faint color tlickers on her cheek, and the
poor old eyelids begin to tremble. My
wife raises her head, and makes her
swallow some cordial which DIR. Bruce
has brought with him, and lays her
back among the soft, warm pillows.
i think she will rally now, says DR..
Bruce, as her breathing becomes more
audible and regular. 'Nourishment and
warmth will do the rest but she has re-
ceived shock from which, | fear, she
will never recover And so saying, he
takes his leave.
By-and by go up to the room, and
find my wife watching alone by the
aged sufferer She looks up at me with
tears in her eyes. Poor old soul, she
says i am afraid she will not rally from
the cold and exposure.
/ 60 round to the other side of the bed
and look down upon her. The aged face
looks wan and pinched, and the scanty
gray locks which lie on the pillow are
still wet from the snow, She is very
little woman, as far as | can Judge from
her in her recumbent position, and |
should thing must have reached her al
lottted threescore years and ten.
who can she be ? | repeat, wonder
ingly She does not belong to any OF
the villages hearabouts, or we should
know her face; and | cannot imagine
what could bring stranger to the moor
on such night.
AS | speak change passes over hel
face; the eyes unclose, and she looks in
quiringly about her She tries to speak
but is evidently too weak, My wife rails
es her and gives her a spoonful of nour-
ishment, while she says soothingly
don't try to speak. You are among
friends, and when you are better yo,
shall tell me all about yourself. Lie still
now, and try to sleep
The gray head drops back wearily oil
the pillow and soon we have the sati
faction of hearing by the regular respi
ration, that our patient is asleep.
you must come to bed now, Jessie
/ say. Il shall ring for Mary, and sh