THE RESCUE AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR.
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BY J. MILTON SANDERS, AUTHOR OF “THE MIAMI VALLEY,” ETC.
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I have a tale thou hast not dream’d—
If sooth—its truth must others rue.
Byron.
It was one of those lovely autumnal days of which we all often dream, and so fondly wish to enjoy, when lying upon the bed of sickness; such a day as we love to dwell upon in imagination, when we are closely housed and sitting by a sparkling fire during the long freezing winter nights.
Well, it was such a day as this that my friend Ned K—— and I started through the rich country which lies north of Dayton. The sun was just rising, glorious and unobscured by cloud or mist, his early rays dancing gaily upon the parti-colored foliage, like millions of those little bright elfins which people the glowing imagination of the oriental improvisitore.