, 1882-02-17

becoming numOeu, lClcleS nauB IIon MY
moustache and beard, and my feet and
legs are soaking wet, even through my
shooting-boots and stout leather leg
gings.
The moon has gone in again, and the
light from the lantern We carry is barely
sufficient to show us the inequals in the
height of the snow, by which we are
guessing at our path. began to wish l
had stayed at home, and begin to con-
slider whether may venture up the
search (which have undertaken purely
to satisfy my wife, for am like John,
and won't believe in Laddie), when sud-
denly hear a shout in front Of me, and
see Donald, who has all the time been
keeping close to Laddie drop on his
knees and begin to dig wildly in the
snow with his hands. We all rush for
ward Laddie has stopped at what ap-
pears to be the foot of q stunted tree,
and after scratching and whining for
moment, sits down and watches, and
leaves the rest to us. What is it that
appears when we have shovelled away
the snow? A dark object. Is it q bun
die of rags? Is it-or, alas was lt-a
human being? We raise it carefully
and tenderly, and wrap 1t in one OF the
warm blankets which my wife's fore
Fought had provided US.
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 that
of q poor, shrivelled, wrinkled, old
woman. try to pour a little brandy
down the poor old throat, but the teeth
are so firmly clenched that cannot.
"Get her home as quickly rs may be,
sir; the mistress will know better what
to DO for her nor we do, if so be the poor
creature not past help" says John, turn
ing instinctively, as we all do in sickness
or trouble, to woman's aid.
SO we improvise sort of hammock OF
the blankets, and gently and tenderly
the men prepare to carry their poor
helpless burden over the snow.
Il am afraid your mistress will be IN
bed," / say, as we begin to retrace our
steps.
"Never fear, sir" says Donald, with a
triumphant glance Mt John; "the mis-
tress will be up and waiting for us. She
kens Laddie dinna bring us out in the
snaw for naething."
"I'll never say nothing about believ-
ing dawg again" says John, gracefully
striking his colors. "You were right,
and / was wrong; but to think there
should be such sense in an animal passes
mel
AS we reach the avenue gate dispatch
one of the men for o doctor, who for
tunately lives within stones throw Of
OF US, and hurry on myself to prepare
my wife for what is coming. She runs
out into the hall to meet me. "Well?'
she asks eagerly. -.
"We have found n poor old woman" "
I say, "but do not know whether she is
alive or dead"
Ny wife throws her arms around me
and gives me a great hug.
"YOu will find dry things and a jug OF
hot toddy in your dressing-room, dear"
she says and this is all the revenge she
takes on me for my skepticism. The
poor old woman is carried 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..
| DEllCt SllhtS ulo lcuN NilCu uG oCCo hSA'
"Poor old soul, he says; "now came she
out on such fearful night? l doubt she
has received shock which, at her age,
she will not easily get over"
They manage, however, to force few
spoonfuls of brandy and water down her
throat; and presently faint color flick
ers on her cheek and the poor old eye
lids begin to tremble. My wife raises
her head, aud makes her swallow some
cordial which DIR. Bruce has brought
with him, aud lays her back among the
soft, warm pillows.
"I think she will rally now," says DIR.
Bruce, as her breathing becomes more
audible and regular. "Nourishment and
warmth will do the rest but she has re-
| seived shock from which, l fear, she
will never recover" And so saying, he
takes his leave.
By-the.by I 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"
90 round the other side of the bed
and look down upon her. The aged face
looked wan and pinched, and the scanty
gray locks which lie on the pillow are
still wet from the snow. She is q very
little woman, as far as can Judge Of her
in her recumbent position, and l should
think must have reached her allotted
| threescore and ten.
"Who can she be-" repeat, wonder
ingly. "She does not belong to any of
the villagers hereabouts, or we should
know her face; and l cannot imagine
what could bring a stranger to the moor
on such night.
As speak change passes over her
face; the eyes unclose, and she looks in
quirlngly about her. She trieste speak,
but is evidently too weak My wife
raises her and gives her a spoonful of
nonrishment. Mhile she saws, sooth-