Year: 1874

In the city of Hartford, Conn.,, lives
the hero OF the true story | am about to
relate-but no longer "little," as the
perilous adventure which made him fa
nous in his native town happened sew
eral years ago.


Our hero was then a bright, active
boy of fourteen-the son of a mechanic.
In the severe winter of 1885, the father
worked in factory, absut mile from
his home, and every day the boy carried
him his dinner across piece of
meadow land.


One keen, frosty day he found the
snow on the meadow nearly two feet
deep, and no traces of the little foot
path remaining Yet he ran on as fast
as possible, plunging through the drifts,
keeping himself warm by vigorous ex-
ercise and cheerful thoughts.


When Ia the mist of the meadow,
fully half mile from the house, he sud
denly felt himself going down, down!


He had fallen into a well. He sank
down, down into the dark icy water, but
rose Immediately to the surface. There
he grasped hold of plank which had
fallen into the well as he went down.
One end of this resting on the bottom
of the well-the other rose about four
feet above the surface of the water.


The poor lad shouted for help until
he was hoarse and almost speechless,
but all in vain, as il was impossible to
make himself heard from such depth,
and at such distance from any house.
So at last he concluded that If he was
saved at all he must save himself, and
begin at once, as he was getting ex-
tremely cold In the water.


First he drew himself mp the plank,
and braced himself against the top of it
and the wall of the well, which was OF
brick and quite smooth. Then he
pulled off his coat, and, taking out his
pocket knife he cut off his boots that he
might go TO work 10 greater advantage.
Then, with his feet against one side of
the WELL and his shoulders against the
other, he worked his way up, by the
most fearful exertion, about half the
distance TO the top. Here he was
obliged to pause to take breath and
gather up his energies for the work yet
before him. Far harder was it than all
he had gone through, for the sides being
from that height covered with ice, he
must with his knife, cut grasping places
for his fingers, slowly and carefully all
the way up.


1t was almost hopeless attempt, but
it was all that he could do. And here
the little hero lifted up his heart to
God and prayed fervently for help,
fearing that he could never get out
alone.


Doubtless the Lord heard his voice
calling from the deep, and pitied him
He wrought no miracle to save him, but
he breathed into his heart yet larger
measure of calmness and courage
strengthening him to work out his owl
deliverance.


After this, the little hero cut his way
upward, inch by inch. His wet stock
ings froze to the ice and kept his fee
from slipping, but his shirt was quit,
worn from his shoulders ere he reached
the top.


He did rench it at last-crawled on
into the snow, and laid down for mo
ment to rest-panting out his breath il
little white clouds on the clear, frost,
air.


He had been two hours and half il
the well.


his CaOIntE HOOn lIOHc W DOuy
but he no longer suffered with cold, a
full of Joy and thankfulness, he ran Il
the factory, where his father was wait
ing and wondering.


The poor man had to go without hi
dinner that day, but you may be sur
he cared little about that, while listen
ing with tears in his eyes to the thrill
ing story his son had to relate to him


He must have been proud of the bo
that day, as he wrapped him in his owl
warm overcoat and took him home t.
"mother."


And how that mother must have wep
and smiled over the lad, and kissed hir
and thanked God for him.


have not heard of the little hero
Tor two or three years, but / trust he
growing up into brave, heroic mar
and I hope he will never forget tn
heavenly friend who did not forget hir
in the hour of his great need.


There is an old saying that truth lie
at the bottom of well.