The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-11-06
Rocked Him to Siieep.

A few years ago Swedish family
named Olson left the fatherland and
sought home and fortune in America,
the promised land, says the Minneapolis
Journal. They were poor, but their
hearts were stout, and they feared not
for the future so long as they had health
and strength. From the confusion and
strangeness of Castle Garde- they set
their faces to the West-the golden
Northwest. Others might stay and
starve in the crowded cities, they said,
but they would 60 where they could
claim a bit of land as their own and find
health and happiness. The broad prai-
ries of Dakota beckoned them onward,
and at last they rested on unbroken soil
near Long lake. The Olsons were amazed
at the wealth of the land that spread out
before them, with the virgin soil waiting
they set to work with will. A year or
two passed away. The Olsons had not
become rich, but they had home that,
however humble, was theirs, and they
were happy.
Harvest time came. The golden grain
stood ripe and heavy in the fields. The
mother and the eldest children went to
help the father with the harvest lest the
rain might come and catch them mapping.
So it happened that one morning little
Ween, aged seven, was left all alone to
care for his little brother, who was just
able to toddle about the house. For an.
hour or two they amused themselves with
their toys and then the little one, in
childish glee, ran about the room 'play-
ing horse" The floor was built of rough,
undried boards and in some places had
become "sprung." Careless of danger
little Ole ran about until he stepped into
q crack and fell. The merciless boards
closed fast about his foot and held him
prisoner. Shrieking with pain he called
to his brother for help. Ween tuggcd
away at the boards, but they refused to
release their prey. Little Ole's appeals
became more and more frantic. Ween
went to the door and shouted for help,
but no one heard him. At last, frantic
with fear, he seized dull ak that stood
in the shed and rushed to the little suf-
ferer. Still he could not pry up the
boards. There was but one way now;
be must cut off the little ones foot! So
he raised the dull ak and brought it
down. A ragged cash was made and the
shrieks grew louder. "Don't cry, Ole,
I will soon have you free;" and down
came the cruel ak again. Again and
again it fell, until at last the prisoner was
Tree. The blood frightened Ween, and
be took the little one in his arms and
sought to soothe 1t with a song he had
heard his mother sing:
"Rocls-a-by, rock-a-by, baby, to sleep"
Little Ole's cries became fainter and
fainter. His head fell lower on his
brothers arm and his eyes closed. Ween
thought the baby was very white, but
,till he sat there grooming the cradle
song and waiting for the return of his
father and mother. High noon came and
the mother returned to prepare the fru-
gal MONDAY meal. No little voices came
to greet her with shouts of joy, and her
mothers heart stood still with nameless
terror. Into the house she rushed.
"Sh! sh!" whispered Wcen. sole got
hurted, but rocked him to sleep"
Yes, Ole was asleep. His eyes would
never open again upon earthly scenes.
And little Ween rocked to and fro, sing
ing softly:
'Rock-a-by, rock-a-by, baby, to Sleep"