The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-04-28
LOUISA WADE'S RECON-
PEN Sc.

By Sarah z. Brigham, in the New York
Observer, is most interesting narrative,
too long for our columns. Mrs. Wade
had bought a house in the country, for
merly occupied by one David Clark, who
lived there with two companions, a feeble
minded youth named Robert Henson,
whom he had taken in out OF charity, and
his large dog named Don. By David
Clark's death the property came to his
nephew, Henry Clark; he sent Robert
Henson to the poor house, took Don
away and sold the property to Mrs.
Wade. The dog was not contented
with his new master, came back to the
old home and Mrs. Wade. who with her
daughter Louisa constituted the whole
family, kindly received and adopted him.
Feeble minded Robert Henson, too, came
often to his former home and was always
made welcome. One day Louisa started
to visit friend, and to save distance at
tempted to cross some woods and became
lost. The dog was kept chained by order
of the selectmen, because mad dog was
reported to have gone through the town
It was late in the evening, and the neigh
bors had been searching in vain, when
Robert Henson, the idiotic boy came to
the house and here is what followed:
Late in the evening, Robert Henson
called in. "Pretty girly's gone; heard
'em say so," he said hoarsely, his tears
flowing. "Want to go and help find her."
"Poor fellow, what help can you give"
said Mrs. Lee. "Sit down and be quiet
Robert took chair and covered his
face with his hands. People were COM
ing and going in the house, talking ex-
citedly about the missing girl; but he
gave no heed to what was transporting, till
a low, whining noise from Don in the
back yard reached his ear, when he arose
and hurried to the place where the dog
was chained. Don leaped upon him in
frantic delight.
"Pretty girly's lost, she's lost, said
Robert. The dog was accustomed to
hear him call her by that name, and
knew he was talking about his mistress.
"Pretty girly's lost; pretty girly's lost
sobbed Robert. The dog shook his chain
violently, and whined piteously, as it
begging to be set free. "Rob loves Don;
viii let him CO." He unfastened the
chain, and Immediately the dog left
Robert ana took slow trot down the
road with his nose on the ground.
"Don's gone to find pretty girly; can
SMELL" and Robert hurried after him.
The dog soou left the road, went
through two moving lots. and kept on
until he came to something lying on
the ground, which he picked up with his
teeth, and waited for Robert to come up.
1t was Louisa's red shawl, and he threw
it over his arm in transport of joy, be-
ing sure they were on the right track.
Robert followed the keen scented dog far
into the dense forest. His clothes were
torn, his hands and face were scratched
by the rough thick underbrush, but he
pressed on forgetful of self.
Soon an indistinct voice resounded
through the moon-lit air, "Help, help"
"Bow-wow- wow" answered the dog.
"Pretty girly pretty girly r shouted
Robert
In few minutes they reached Louisa.
Oh, what joyful midnight meeting it
was, under the grand old forest trees.
Robert half supported the faint, exhaust
ed girl, as Don, the captain of the little
company, led them out of the woods to-
ward home.
Mrs. Wade's happiness at the safe ar
rival of her daughter had no limit. Louisa
told her story, and Robert and Don were
loaded with praise.
SLOW came you to think of looking in
the woods for Louisa?' inquired Mrs.
Wade, wonderingly.
"Rob didn't think; can't think; he's
most a natural fool; twas Dom"
"Who let Don loose? He was chained
in the yard"
"Poor Rob let him go; dog smelt; went
after pretty girl; Rob went after, too;
don't know much"
"You have outwitted us ALL" exclaimed
Mr.. Seagrave.
Louisa's friends, the predetermined
pauper upon whom she had bestowed
Christian kindness and sympathy, and
the out cast dog she had befriended, each
in his own way, had recompensed her.
Robert never returned to the aims
house. Mrs. Wade and Louisa gave him
hnpaa os,,sx,
years were made comfor table and happy.
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TIDES.