The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1889-07-26

lulu lIluIe
mo sir. faint that; but I met a
man today who said he knew my
papa, and he told me that he had gone
home on furlough."
was amused by the child's simple
faith in the assurance of q stranger,
but as | thought home would be the
best place for him, l said nothing to
stagger that faith, but contented my
self with questioning him as to his
history.
His name was Harry Sinton, and he
had reached the mature age of 10, his
mother had been dead two years, his
father had enlisted at the outbreak Of
the war, and had left him to the care
OF relatives, who had not been very
kind to him, and he had run away
from them with the intention of max
ing his way TO his father in Virginia.
was greatly impressed by the boys
intelligence and courage, for it had
certainly required extraordinary de-
termination to sustain such mere
child amid all the perils of such q trip
as he had undertaken. / thought of
the horrors that would naturally rise
up before the inexperienced mind of a
child whilst wandering alone through
woods and fields that were new and
strange; l thought of the inevitable
WEAKNESS of the long journey on foot,
OF the pangs of hunger, and of all the
dangers OF the way. and impulsively
exclaimed:
"Why, Harry, you are a little
hero" When the conductor made his
next round through the train, paid
the little fellows fare, and as he was
evidently very tired, l repressed my
own WEAKNESS and weakness, and
gave up the best part of the seat in
order to make him as comfortable as
circumstances would permit.
After while day dawned, and we
got some breakfast, Harry eating as if
famished. l told his story to several
OF our travelling companions, and
they all seemed interested in him, and
quite q group gathered around us to
hear the little fellow recite the history
of his wanderings. He told us that
he had kept to the line of railway as
much as possible, and had travelled at
the rate of from eight to ten miles
day. He had avoided the dwelling
houses of the planters, and had OBJ
tanned food and shelter mainly from
the negroes, for the child was shrewd
enough to know that they would not
be as apt to hinder his progress as the
whites, for the latter would undoubt-
eddy have stopped him and sent him
back to Charleston.
| promised him that / would look
up his father on my arrival in Char
lesion, and with that assurance he
seemed perfectly content, and amused
himself in the usual fashion of boys
for the rest of the journey.
By the time we reached Charleston
the journey had so exhausted my
strength that l left the train more
dead than alive, and when my mother
clasped me to her bosom, her Joy over
my return was chilled by the gloomy
anticipations which my appearance
aroused, and her very first movement
was to get me comfortably in bed, and
then set off at once for our family
physician. He came at once, and
Gained her fears by the assurance
that rest and good nursing would be
sure to pull me through.
well have him strong enough to
eat two more rations before long" he
laughingly remarked as he left the
house.
But Notwithstanding that the home
nursing did greatly benefit me, was
still for some days too weak and i'll to
give much attention to my promise to
little Harry.
My brother ascertained for me that
no such name as Sinton was register
ed at any of the hospitals. He also
inquired for the family with whom
Harry had been staying before he rah
away, but they could not be found.
My mother and sisters were too much
concerned about me to think much
about anything else, and it was tacitly
understood that Harry would Just
remain quietly with us until had
gained sufficient strength to hunt up
those to whom he belonged.
l had been home perhaps ten days,
perhaps longer, when the quiet of my
sick chamber was interrupted by the
direful calamity that befell the city
mean the great fire that swept from
river to river, and in few awful and
never to be forgotten hours rendered
hundreds Of people houseless, home
less and penniless
1t is not my purpose to describe the
origin, extent and incidents of the fire.
l could not if would, for / saw too
little of it to do SO; but I well remem-
Der the scared, white faces of my mo-
Their and sisters as the fire gained in
extent and rapidity. l had been in
great pain all day, and had been put
under the influence OF an opiate; and
although my room was lighted by the
glare until it was bright as MONDAY,
and l heard from time to time the
frightened EXPLANATIONS of those who
stood at the windows, still / did not
fully realize the extent of the danger.
My brother came in late in the
night, his eyebrows and mustache
singed off, his clothing burned in
many places.
This is awful" said he. 1T looks
like the whole town is going"
''Let her 60" said !, with drowsy
indifference.
He looked at me, shrugged his
shoulders, and went out again.
How long he was gone / do not