A Little Hero.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1635, 15 May 1875, Page 6 (Supplement)

A Little Hero.

In the city of Hartford, Ct, lives the hero of the true story I am about to relate—hut bo longer 'little' as the perilous adventure which made him famous in his native town happened several years ago. Our hero was "then a bright, active "boy of fourteen—the son of a mechanic. In the severe winter of 1835 the father worked in a factory about a mile from lis home, and every day the boy carried him bis dinner across a piece of meadow land. One keen frosty day he found the snow on the meadow nearly two feet deep and no trace of the footpath remaining. Yet he ran on as fast as possible, plunging through drifts, keeping himself warm by vigorous exercise and brave, cheerful thoughts. "When in the midst of the meadow, fully half a mile from the house, he suddenly felt himself going down, down! Be 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 a plank which had fallen into the well as he went down. One end of this rested 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 almost speechless, but all in vain, as it was impossible to make himself heard from such a depth and at such a 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 extremely cold in the water. So he went to work , Pirst he drew himself up the plank, and braced himself against the top of it and the wall of the well, which was of brick and quite smooth. Ihen he pulled off his coat, and taking out his pocket-knife he cut off his boots, that he might go to work to a 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 painful 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. Ear harder was it than all he had gone through, for the side being from that point covered with ice, he must cut with his knife grasping places for his fingers, slowly and carefully all the way up* It was almost a hopeless attempt, but it was all he could do. And here the little hero lifted up his heart to Gk>d 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 a yet larger • measure of calmness and courage, strengthening him to work out his own deliverance. «. After this, the little hero cut his way upward inch by inch. Bis wet stockings froze to the ice and kept his feet from slipping, but his shirt was quite worn from his shoulders ere he reached the top. He did reach it at last—crawled out into the snow and lay down for a moment to rest — panting out his breath in little white clouds on the clear frosty air. He had been two hours and a half in the i well. His clothes soon froze to his body, but he no longer suffered with .. ccld, as full of joy and thankfulness, he ran to the factory where his father was waiting and wondering. The poor man had to go without his ) dinner that day, but you may be sure ho cared little about that, while listen- • ing with tears in his eyes to the thrilling story his son had to relate to him. .He must have been proud of the boy that day as he wrapped him in his . own warm overcoat, and took him home to 'mother.' And how that mother must have wept and smiled over the lad, and kissed him and thanked 0-od.for him!— Grace Greenwood.