Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1890-03-28

the CLOUD anu SllObe :1u NoSt, hllo
every one saw for the first time what
Lord Charles Hay was about.
A little to the left of the English line
of battle stood a cluster Of miserable
novels. and the Flemish peasants who
inhabited them. instead of running away
when the battle began, as n might
have expected, had staia where they
were, seeing that the fight seemed to
be rolling away from them, and not
liking the idea of abandoning their
huts, which. poor and wretched though
they were, were the only home that they
had.
But they soon found that they were
mistaken, for a sudden change in the
position OF the two armies brought these
unlucky cottages right into the line of
fire. and the terrified peasants. finding
the canno balls falling thickly on every
side of them, took to their heels at once,
dragging with them their children and
what few goods they could manage to
carry. In the hurry of this panic-dight
a tiny girl, hardly old enough to walk
alone, had fallen OF been left behind,
and was now lying on the ground mid
way between the French and English
lines, crying bitterly, while her mother
could be e in the distance shrieking
wildly and tossing her arms in the air
and struggling to break loose from her
husband, who was holding her firmly,
for, counting his child already lost. he
had no wish to lose his wife as we'll.
Coolly as if on parade the brave
young guardsman strobe onward to the
spot where the helpless child lay, his
fair hair and bright young face showing
through the billowy smoke like those
of an angel in some old Italian painting.
He raised it tenderly in his arms, and
some who saw it said afterward that the
poor little trembler ceased crying at
once, as if soothed and comforted by his
gentle voice and kindly smile. Then,
keeping his own body as much as posi-
bic between the child and the leveled
muslets OF the French, he went straight
on as calmly as ever, toward the dark
mass Of his enemies.
Don't fire, comrades-don't fret"
shouted a tall, stern-looking French
soldier, whose grim face was black
with dust and %gunpowder. eff he were
twenty times an Englishman, he's as
good as a saint from heaven, for all
that!"
At that moment a mighty shout,
which was heard high above the roar of
cannon and musketry from the other
side of the battlefield, burst from the
English ranks as they saw their young
hero bearing the child unframed across
that deadly space, and scarcely had the
cheer died away when it was echoed by
an answering cheer from the French,
which rolled along the vast plain like a
peal of distant thunder.
Meanwhile the young officer, passing
close to the cruel points of the French
bayonets as coolly as if they had been
only bulrushes, with the tiny face nest
ling trustingly against his shoulder,
went straight up to the distracted
mother and placed the child in her
arms. Then he kissed the thin little
cheek tenderly. and was just turning
away to go back to his own men when a
stately old officer with a long gray mus
tache. whose broad breast was covered
with crosses and decorations, stepped
forth from the French line and held out
his hand.
Monsieur said he, bowling cour-
teously, permit me to have the honor
of shaking hands with the bravest man
that I have even met"
An hour later Lord Charles Hay was
lying face downward upon the earth,
sorely wounded by a chance bullet
which had hit him just as the enemy
We're giving way and beginning to re-
treat. But though his wound was a
severe and painful one, and though he
lived to become one Of the richest and
most popular men in all England, he
spoke Of that day as the hap
piest OF his whole life.