, 1882-03-17
HOW DOLLY WAS SAVED.

western prairie Nllds? Yes, sir: 1t :
little else than wilds now but you should
have seen 1t when | and my wife first
moved up here. There was not house
within sight for miles, Even now we
have not many neighbors; but those We
have are downright good ones, To ap-
preciate your neighbors as YOU ought,
sir, YOU must just live in these lonely
places, SO far removed from the haunts
of man.
What am going to tell happened ten
years ago. | was going to the distant
town or settlement, to sell some fifty
| head of cattle-hne creatures, sir, as
ever You saw. The journey was more
rare event with me than it is now, and
my wife had always plenty Of commits
sions to charge me with in the shape of
dry goods and groceries, and such like
| things.
Our youngest child was sweet little
gentle thing, who had been named after
her aunt Dorothy. We called the child
Dolly. This time my commissions in
cluded one for her child-a doll. She
had never had real doll; that is, a
bought doll; only the rag bundles her
mother made for her. For some days
before my departure the child could talk
of nothing else-or we, either, for the
matter OF that-for she was great pet,
the darling of us all. 1t was to be big,
big doll, with golden hair and blue eyes.
shall never forget the child's words the
morning l was starting, as she ran after
me to the gate, or the pretty picture she
made There are some children sweeter
and prettier than others, as you can't
have but noticed, and Dolly was one.
"a very great big doll, please, daddy"
she called out after me. "And please
bring 1t very soon."
turned to nod yes" to her, as she
stood in her clean white-brown pinafore
against the gate, her nut-brown hair fall
ing in curls about her neck, and the
| light breeze stirring them.
"a brave DOLL answered. "for my
little one. Almost as big as Dolly"
Nobody would believe, daresay, how
full my thoughts were of that promised
doll, as ! rode along, or what nice one
l meant to buy. 1t was not often l
spent money in what my good, thrifty
wife would have called waste; but Dolly
was Dolly, and meant to do 1t now.
The cattle sold, went about my pur'
chases, and soon had no end OF parcels
to be packed in the saddle-bags. Tea,
sugar, rice, candles-but need not
weary you, sir, with telling of them,
together with the calicoes for shirts and
nightgowns, and the delaine for the
children's new frocks. Last of all, |
went about the doll-an found a
beauty. 1t was not as big as Dolly, or
half as big; but it had faxen curls and
sky-blue eyes; and by dint OF pulling a
wire you could open or shut the eye at
will.
"Do it up carefully" I said to the
storekeeper, my little daughter would
cry sadly if any harm came to it,"
The day was pretty we'll ended before
all my work was done; and just for Il
moment or two l hesitated whether l
should not stay in the town and start for
home in the morning. 1t would have
been the more prudent course. But l
thought of poor Dolly's anxiety to get
her treasure, and Of my own happiness
in watching the rapture in her delighted
eyes. So with my parcels packed in the
best way they could be, mounted my
horse and started.
1t was as good and steady o horse as
you ever rode, sir; but night began to
set in before l was well mile away from
the town. 1t seemed as though it were
going to be an ugly night, too. Again
the thought struck me-should turu
back and wait till morning? ] had the
price Of the cattle, you see, sir, in my
breast pocket; and robberies, aye, and
murders, also, were not quite unknown
things on the prairie. But / had my
brace of sure pistols with me, and de-
cided to press onward.
The night came on as dark as pitch
and part of the way my road would be
pitch dark beside. knew the road well, ,
every inch of it; though could not ride
as fast as 1 should have done in the
light. was about six miles from home,
suppose, and l know the time must be
close upon midnight, when the storm
which had been brewing broke. The
thunder roared, the rain fell in torrents;
the best could do was to press onward
init.
All at once, as rode on, a cry startled
me; faint, wailing sound, like the cry
of child. Refining up, sat still and
listened. Had 1 been mistaken? No,
there it was again. But in what direc.
tion I could not tell. 1 couldn't see a
thing; it was, as have said, as dark as
pitch. Getting off my horse, felt
about, but could find nothing. And
while / was seeking the cry came again;
the faint moan of child in
pain. Then began to wonder. am
not superstitious; but asked myself how
it was possible that child could be out
on the prairie Mt such an hour and in
such night. No; real child it could
not be.