Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-06-12

81 amt derldln' OF them, only say
as how if they be so very clever, neve
seen it, says John.
eye wull, though, we wull," says Oh
Donald, as he hurries forward after Lad
die, who was now settled down into
swinging trot, and is taking his wa,
straight across the loneliest part OF TIL
bleak moor.
The cold wind almost cuts us in two
and whirls the snow into our faces, near
ly binding us. My finger ends are be
coming numbed, icicles hanging from my
mustache and beard, and my feet ant
legs are soaking wet, even through my
shooting boots and stout leather leggings
The moon has gone in again, and the
light from the lantern we carry IS barely
sufficient to show us the inequalities IL
the height of the snow by which we are
guessing at our path l begin to wish
had staid at home. sLhomme propose
mails la femme dispose l sigh to my
self, and l begin to consider whether
may venture to give up the search, (which
l have undertaken purely to satisfy my
wife, for | am like John and won't be-
lieve in Laddie), when suddenly, 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 forward. Laddie
has stopped at what appears to be the
foot of a stunted tree, and after scratch
ing and whining for moment, sits down
and watches, leaving the rest to us.
| What is it that appears when we have
shovelled away the snow! A dark OBJ
| iect Is it bundle Of rags? Is tor,
alas! was ia human being9 We raise
it carefully and tenderly, and wrap it in
one of the warm blankets with which my
wifes forethought has provided US.
"Bring me the lantern" 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 a poor, shrivelled, wrinkled,
ragged old woman. try to pour little
brandy down the poor old throat, but the
teeth are so firmly clenched that can
not.
"Get her home as quickly as may be,
sir; the mistress will know better what to
do for her nor we do, if so the poor crea-
ture is not past help" says John, turning
instinctively as we all do in sickness or
trouble, to wOman'S aid.
So we improvise a sort of hammock of
the blankets, and gently and tenderly the
men prepare to carry their poor, helpless
burden over the, snow.
~ am AFRAID your mistress will be in
bed, | say, as we begin to retrace our
steps.
'fNever fear, sir" said Donald, with
triumphant glance at John; ''the mis-
tress will be up and waiting for us. She
l.. al hyyr ~,
the shaw for naething."
'I'll ne'er say naught about believing
dog agin," says John, gracefully strik-
ing his colors. "You were right. and L
was wrong; but to think there should be
such sense in an animal passes me.
AS we reach the avenue | dispatch one
of the men for the doctor, who fortunate
ly lives within stones throw Of us, and
hurry on myself to prepare my wife for
what is coming. She runs out into the
hall to meet me.
"WeIl?'' she asks eagerly.
eve have found a poor woman" |
say, "but l do not know whether she is
alive or dead.
My wife throws her arms around me
and gives me great hug.
''You will find dry things and a jug of
hot toddy in your dressing-room, DEAR"
she says, and this is the revenge she takes
on me for my skepticism. The poor old
woman is taken up stairs and placed in
warm bath under my wife's 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, chow came she out on
such q fearful night? doubt she has re-
ceived & shock which, at her age, she
will not easily get over"
They manage, however, to force few
spoonfuls Of hot brandy and water down
her throat, and presently a faint color
fiickers on her cheek, and the poor old
eyelids begin to CULVER My wife raises
her head and makes her swallow some
cordial which DR.. Bruce has brought with
him, and lays her back among the soft,
warm pillows.
81 think she will rally now," says DR.
Bruce, as her breathing becomes more
regular and audible. eNourishment and
warmth will do the rest; but she has re-
ceived shock from which, | fear, she
will never recover" And so saving, 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,
81 am afraid she will not rally from the
cold and exposure"
l go round to the other side of the bed
and .oci down upon her The aged face
looks wan ana pinched, and the scanty
gray locks which lie on the pillow are
still wet from the snow. She is a very
| little woman, as far as I can Judge of her
in her recumbent position, and l should
think must have reached her allotted
three-score years and ten.
| "Who can she be-" l repeat, wonder
ingly "She does not belong to any OF
the villages hereabouts, or we should
| know her face; and l cannot imagine
what could bring stranger to the moor
on such night
As speak a change passes over he1
face; the eyes .unclose, and she looks in
quiringly about her. She tries to speak
but is evidently too weak My wife
raises her and gives her spoonful oil
nourishment, while she says, soothingly
'sDon't try to speak. You are among
friends, and when you are better, you
shall tell me all about yourself. Lie still
now, and try to sleep.''
The gray head drops back YEARLY upor
the pillow, and soon we have the salts