Show LITTLE DOLLY WAS LOST A touching story imitative of dickens and eli perkins A staff correspondent of the san Francis coCan relates this romantic and pathetic story about himself his lettla girl and her dollay name is anthony hunt I 1 am a drover and livo miles and miles away upon the western prairie there a house in sight when I 1 first moved there my wife and L and now we have not many neighbors though those we have are good ones ono day about ten years ago I 1 wont away from homo to sell my fifty head of cattle fine creatures as I 1 ever saw I 1 was to buy somo groceries and dry goods before I 1 came back and above all a doll for our youngest dolly she has nover had s store doll of her own only rag babies her mother had mado her dolly could talk nothing else and went down to the very gate to call after me to get a big one nobody but a parent can understand bow full my mind was of the toy and how when tho cattle were sold the first thing I 1 hurried off to buy was dallys dollys doll X found a largo ono with eyes that would open and shut when you pulled a wire and had it wrapped up in paper and tucked it under my arm while I 1 had the parcels of calico and delaine and tea and sugar put up then late as it was 1 started for home it might have been more prudent to stay until morning but I 1 felt anxious to get back and eager to hear dallys dollys praise about her doll I 1 was mounted on a steady going old horse and pretty well loaded night set in before I 1 was a mile from town and settled down as dark as pitch while I 1 was in the darkest bit of road I 1 knew of I 1 could have felt my way though I 1 remembered it so well and whon the storm that had been broke and the rain in torrents I 1 was five miles or may bo six miles from home i rode as fast as I 1 could bat all of a sudden 1 heard a little cry like a childs voice I 1 stopped bhart and listened I 1 heard it again I 1 called and it answered me 1 see a thing all was as dark as pitch I 1 got down and felt around in the grass called again and again was answered then 1 began to wonder im not timid but I 1 was known to be a drover and to have money about me it might be a trap to catch me unawares and rob and murder me I 1 am not superstitious not very but how could a real child be out on the prairie in buch a night at such an hour it might be more than human iho bit of a coward that hides itself in most men showed itself to me then out once more I 1 heard the cry and said if any mans child is hereabouts anthony hunt is not the man to let it die I 1 searched again at last I 1 bethought me of the hollow under the hill and groped that way sure enough I 1 found the little dripping thing that moaned and sobbed as I 1 took it in my arms I 1 called my borso and the beast came to me and I 1 mounted and tucked the little soaked thing under my coat as well as I 1 could promising to take it home to mamma it seemed so tired and pretty soon cried itself to sleep on my bosom it had slept there over an hour when I 1 saw my own windows there lights in them and I 1 supposed my wife had lit them for my sake but when I 1 got into the doorway I 1 saw something was the matter and stood still with a dread fear of heart five minutes before I 1 could lift the latch at last I 1 did it and saw the room full of neighbors and my wife amid them weeping ahen she saw me she hid her face oh dont tell him she said it will kill him what is it neighbors nigh bors I 1 cried nothing now 1 hope that you have in your arms A poor lost child said I 1 1 I found it on the road take it will ive turned faint and I 1 lifted tha sleeping thing and saw the face of my own child my dolly it was my own darling and none other that I 1 had picked up on the drenching road my little child had wandered out to meet papa and the doll while the mother was at work and they were lamenting her as one dead 1 thanked heaven on my bended knees before them it is not much of a story neighbors but I 1 think of it often in the and wonder how I 1 could boar to livo now if I 1 had not stopped when I 1 heard that cry for help upon the road hardly louder than a squirrels chirp chats dolly yonder with her moth or in tho meadow a girl worth sav me I 1 think but then im her father and partial maybe the prettiest and sweetest thing this side of the mississippi sis sippi |