The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-02-10
The Salvation
Of Daniel % S
By WINIFRED DoLAN

lVI feather; the bay mare and fcal
haa fetched 1876 OGDEN sovereigns be-
tween them.s Moreover, she had only
given so guineas for the mare. Who
will be astonished, therefore, that she
found the news of her bargain quite
an agreeable adjunct to her breakfast
that morning?
Mrs. Trapaud was a woman of some
humor; when her husband died she met
friend-a man also of some humcr-
who knew as all the world knew and as
Mrs. Trapaud had never pretended to
hide, that the marriage had been the re-
verse of happy. He looked at her weeds
with compreherding smile.
Got your divorce at last?'' he said.
Eyes, and in the higher courts, too"
she replied.
Mrs. Trapaud was always equal to any
occasion.
When Trapaud died his widow carried
on the work Of his life; she continued 10
breed his horses. Not so much, be it I'M
derstood, from any touching sympathy
with the dear departed as from a sound
conviction that it was in her to make the
thing pay. And she did.
1t was strange household composed
of antiquated serving men and women
who had been begotten and born On the
estate and in whom the last expiring
breath of feu6alism fingered as though
dying hard. Trapaud left no heir, and
these farm and stable hands, these Co
nestle serving maids were Mrs. Ira
pau6's children She dosed and phys
licked them when they required it, she
rubbed their backs when the rheumatism
got importunate; she scolded, she
praised, rewarded and blanchard they
loved her
But as in every fold there is one black
sheep, so in this patriarchal family
there was one strangeling. Daniel-he
had no other name-had rot been born
and bred on the estate; he had not even
4 first seen light in the village; no, rot
within ten leagues CT it, the ecssirs said
He came from practically nowhere; it
was so very far away On winter nights,
when the evenings were long ard dull,
the younger ones-fcc age was a mere
matter of comparison in the Trapaud
household-would coax old Mrs. Good
heart to tell again the story of how
Daniel first came to the hall.
'fIt was wild, black night. jest SIGH
one as this" the cid hcuseEeeper
would begin.
t'And the wind were bowling in the
chimbey, we Knows" would interpolate
an irresponsible voice.
t'Will We niver lear to hould yer
tongue then and rot interrupt the
story?" a chorus of voices would protest,
and then, Mrs. GooGheart having duly
allowed herself to be appeased, the story
woaid drag out it's slow, familiar ex-
istence, punctuated with "ohs" and
"ahs" and "theer rows" that had become
sanStified by custom into sort Of rite.
But the reader who Goes rot know what
365 days spent on midland horse farm
situated good 20 miles from anywhere
on the map can be like would hardly an
preciate the art with which Daniels his
tory was told, so we will offer brief and
more modern up to Gay sketch that shall
state the plain matter in nutshell.
One Christmas eve quarter of CEN
fury ago the hospitable glare of fire
& that not only could roast an OK, but was
81 ragged fellow who was tramping along
the high road in search of nights loGg-
ing. One of the keepers found him in the
fir plantation and dragged him after him
q till they stood in the glare of the freight
before Trapaud, his wife, and the assem-
i bled household. Questioned, the little
4 fellow said his name was Daniel: he was
a foundling and had been put cut to serv-
ice with drunken carpenter, from
whom he had run away. He had sct as
& far north as this in a barge along the
canals and had worked at whatever came
to his hand for all the food ard LOGGING
that charity had rot given him. Trapaud
liked the lads face and took him into his
service. He was honest anG Industrious,
q he had risen by slow degrees, ard now
for seven years he had been butler at the
hall. Daniel took pathetic pleasure in