Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1881-12-07
A Touching Incident.

My name is Anthony Hunt. | am drO-
yer, and live miles and miles away. upon
the western prairie. There wasn't house
within sight when we moved there, my
wife and L; and now we have not many
neighbors, though those we have are good
ones.
One day about ten years ago went
away from home TO sell some fifty head Of
C ttle-tne creatures rs ever | saw.
was to buy some groceries and dry goods
before came back, above all, doll for
our youngest Dolly; she never had shop
doll of her own, only the rag babies her
mother had made her. Dolly could talk
of nothing else. and went down to the very
gate to call after me, Buy a big one. :"
Npbndy but parent can understand how
my mind was on that toy. and how. when
he cattle we're sold, the first thing hur-
ried off to buy was Dolly's doll. found
large one, with eyes that would open
and shut when you pulled wire, and had
it wrapped up in a paper, and tucked it un-
der my arm, while l had the parcels of
calico and delaine and tea and sugar put
up. 1t might have been more prudent to
stay until morning, but felt anxious to
get hack, and hear Dolly's prattle about
the doll she was so anxiously expecting
| was mounted on steady going old
horse of mine, and pretty we'll loaded
Night set in before | was mile from
town, and settled down as dark as pitch
while was in the middle of the widest bit
Of road know Of | could have felt my
way through, | remembered it so well,
and it was almost that when the storm
that had been brewing, broke, and pelted
the rain in torrents, five miles, or maybe
six, from home too. l rode en- as fast as
| could; but suddenly | heard a'little cry
like chld's voice. | stopped short and
listened. heard it again. called and
it answered me. l couldn't see thing.
All was dark rs l got down and felt in
the grass; | called again, and again was
answered. Then began to wonder. |
am not timid; but was known to he a
drover and to have money about me. am
not uperstitious-not very-but how could
real child be out on the prairie in such
an hourP 1t might be more than human
The bit of coward that hides itself in most
men showed itself in me then, and | was
half inclined to run away; but once more
L heard that piteous cry, and said |. If
any mans child is hereabouts. Anthony
Hunt is not the man to let it lie heIe to
die. searched again. At last bethougt
me of a hollow under the hill, and CROPPED
that way. Sure enough l found little
dripping thing that moaned and sobbed
as took it in my arms. | called my
horse, and the beast came to me, and
mounted and tucked the little soaked
thing under my coat as well as could,
promising to take it home 20 its NANNY.
1t seemed tired to death, and pretty soon
cried itself to sleep against my bosom. 1t
had slept there over an hour when saw
my own window. There were lights in
them, aud supposed my wife had lit them
for my sake, but when got into the yard
| saw that something was the matter, and
stood still with dead fear Of heart five
minutes before could lift the latch. At
last did it, and saw the room full of
ueighbors, and my wife amid them weep
ing. When she saw me she hid her face.
90 don't tell himr' she cried. 1T will
kill him."
"What is it, neighborsP" l cried.
And one said, Nothing now, l hope.
What's that in your arms?"
"A poor lost child" said I; 81 found
it on the road. Take it, will youp I've
turned faint" And | lifted the sleeping
thing, and saw the face of my own child,
my little Dolly.
1t was my darling. and no other, that
had picked upon the drenched road. NY
little child had wandered out to meet
" daddy" and the doll. while her mother
was at work, and whom they were la
menting as one dead. l thanked God on
my knees before them all. 1t is not much
of a story, neighbors; but l think of it
often in nights, and wonder how | could
bear to live now if had not stopped when
l heard the cry for help upon the road
the little oaby-cry, hardly louder than
squirrels chirp.
All, friends, the blessings of our work
ever dare to hope.