Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-09-14

called Dutch boor, which means that
he was poor man of Dutch blood
who was born on the soil of that hot
land, and titled it with the plow and
hoe.
He was kind man at heart, though
rough in look and speech. He loved
his mare, and she loved him, and was
with him by day and near him by
night. She was proud to have him on
her back, and would dash through
swamps, ponds, and fire, too, if he
wished it.
But a day came that proved the
faith and love Of her stout heart and
the soul of the man. A great storm
came down on the sea. The waves
'roared and rose as high as the hills.
Their white tops foamed with rage at
the winds that smote them with all
their might.
Night drew near and it was scene
to make one quake with fear. Righs
in the midst of all this rage and roar
of wind and sea, a great ship, with
sails rent, and helm gone, came in
sight 1t rode on the high, white
waves, straight on to reef Of rocks.
too far from shore to be reached with
a rope. ...
The ship was full of young and old,
whose cries for help could be heard,
loud as was the voice of the storm.
Their boats we're gone like the shells
Of eggs. There was no wood with
which to build raft. The waves leap
ed on the ship like great white wolves
bent on their prey. How could one soul
of them all be saved?
The men on shore could but look
on the sad sight They could give no
help. They had no boat nor raft, and
their hearts we're sick within them.
Then the Dutch boor was seen to
draw near at full speed on his horse.
Down he came to the beach, nor did
he stop there one breath Of time.
He spoke word to her which she
knew, and with no touch OF whip or
spur she dashed in, and, with a rope
tied to her tail, swan the sea to the
ships side. She wheeled, and stamped
her way on the white surge with row
of men to the shore Then she stayed
but for a breath. ...
At the soft word and touch she
knew so we'll, she turned, and once
more plowed through the surge to the
ship, and brought back load of young
and old. Once more she stood on the
beach, amidst tears Of joy that fell
from all eyes She stood there weak.
as wet with sweat as with the sea.
The night fell down fast on the sea.
There were still a few more left on
t and their cries for help came on
the wind to the shore.
The thoughts that tugged at the
brave mans heart will not be known
n this world The cries from the ship
pierced it through and through He
could not bear to hear them. He spoke
/ low soft word to his horse; he put
lis hand to her neck, and seemed to
.sk her if she could do it. She turned
Ter head to him with a look that
meant, IF you wish 1t, will try" He
lid wish 1t, and she tried to the last
pulse of her heart.
She walked straight into the wild
sea. All on shore held their breath at
he sight. She was weak, but brave.
Now and then the white surge buried
ner head; then she rose and shook
the brine out of her eyes.
Z Foot by foot she neared the ship.
Now the last man had caught the
rope. Once more she turned her head
to the beach. Shouts and prayers
came from it to keep up her strength.
The tug was for a life she loved
more than her own. She broke her
veins for it halfway between ship and
shore. She could lift her feet no more;
her mano lay like black seaweed on
the waves while she tried to catch
one more breath; then, with groan,
she went down with all the load she
bore, and wall went out from the
land for the loss of life that had
saved from death nearly all of a ships
crew of men.
Thus dared and died in the sea the
brave Dutch boor and his horse. They
were as friends, one in life, one in
death; and both might well have place
and rank with the best lives and
deaths we read of in books for young
or old. -Elihu Burritt.