The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1889-02-02
A Child's Cry.

the western prairie. There wasn't a
house in sight when first moved
there, my wife, and l, and now we
have not many neighbOrs, though
those we h~ye are good ones. One
day about ten Yeas ago | went away
from home to sell my titty.head of
cattle-fine creatures as | ever saw.
[ was to buy some groceries and dry
goods before 1 came hack, and. ahoye
all, a doll for my youngest-Doiiy.
She had never had store doll of her
own-0nly rag babies her mother he'd
,nade her.
Dolly could talk nothing else, and
went down to the very gate to call
after me to get big one. Nobody
nut parent can understand how full
any MUD wassof that toy; andahew
when the cattle were sold, the first
thing l hurried off to buy was DO!iy's
doll. found large one with eyes
that would open and shut when you
pulled a wire, and had it wrapped up
in paper and tucked it under MY
arm, while had the parcels of calico
and uelaine and tea and sugar put
up. Then, late as it was, | started
for home. 1t might have been more
prudent to stay until morning, but l
felt anxious to get back and eager to
hear Dolly's praises about her doll.
was mounted on steady-g0ing
old horse and pretty well loaded.
Night set in before | was mile from
town, and settled down as dark as
pitch, while | was in the middle Of
the darkest bit Of road | know Of. |
could have felt my way, though |
remembered it so well ;and when the
storm that had been brewing broke,
and pclted the rain in torrents, | was
five miles or more from home,
rode as fast as l could, bat all Of
a sudden / heard little CRY like a
chiId'S voice. | stopped short and
Iistened-I heard it again. | called
and ii answered me. | couldn't see
thing, All was a dark as pitch. /
got down and felt around in the
grass-calIed again, and again was
answered, Then | began to wonder.
Pm not timid, but | was known to
he drOver and to have money about
me. 1t might be trap to catch me
unawares and rob and murder me.
am not uperstitious-not very but
how could real child be out on the
prairie in such a night, at such an
hour? 1t might be more than hu-
| man. The bit of a coward that hides
itself in most men showed itself to
me then but once more | heard the
cry, and said /:
eff any mans child is hereabouts,
Anthony Hunt is not the Iuan to let
ii die"
| searched again. At last | be-
thought me of the hollow under the
hill and CROPPED that away. Sure
enough | found. the drippling little
thing, that moaned and sobbed as
took it in my arms. / called my
horse and the beast came TO me. and
| mounted aud tucked the little soak
ed thing under my coat as we'll as
could, promising to take it home to
mamma. IT seemed so tired, and
pretty soon cried itself to sleep on
my bosom. 1t had slept there over
an hour when l saw my own win.
dOWs. There were lights in them,
and 1 supposed my wife had lit them
for nv sake. But when | got into
the doorway | saw something was
the matter, and stood still with a
dread fear of heart five minutes be-
tore 1 could lift the latch. At last
did it and saw the room full of neigh
bors, and my wife amid them weep
ing.
When she saw me she hid her face.
"Oh, don't tell him." she said, sit
will kill him."
"What is it. neighbors 1 cried.
"Nothing now, hope. What's
that you have in your arms?"
"A poor lost child" said I. 81
found it on the road. Take it. will
you? I've turned faint" And
lifted the sleeping thing and saw the
face of my own child, my Dolly.
1t was my own darling and none
other, that l had picked up on the
drenched road. My little child had
wandered out to meet papa and the
doll, while the mother was at work,
and they were lamenting her as one
dead. l thanked heaven on my knees
before them. 1t is not much of a
story, neighbors, but L think of it
often in the nights and wonder how
L could bear to live now if l had not
stopped when l heard the cry for
help upon the road, hardly louder
than a squirrels cirrup. That's Dolly
yonder with her mother in the