"How did it happen?" asked a motherly-looking woman. "It was in the depot at Springfield. The children were thirsty, and, charging them not to stir until I came back, I crossed the room for water. There was a great crowd rushing here and there, trains were coming and going, all was bustle and confusion, and I hurried, not having been away but a moment; but little Fannie, my youngest girl, was missing. Helen, the eldest, had been so taken up with the sights and sounds about her, that she did not know that her sister was gone. I was almost frantic with fear, she had so suddenly and completely disappeared. So, throwing my bonnet back upon my shoulders to attract attention, I cried at the top of my lungs,-- "My child! my child! I've lost my child!" "Child lost! child lost!" shouted a number of voices, repeating the description I gave of her. Nobody seemed to have seen her; and a terrible dread that I might not find her wrung my heart, when, to my joy, above the din, I heard some one exclaim,-- "She's found! she's found! Where's the mother?" and a gentleman, holding her aloft, brought her to me. He was deeply agitated, and said,-- "Your little girl, madam, came very near being killed. I found her under the car between two of the wheels, playing with them, saying, 'Car may hurt a me; car may hurt a me.' The last bell had rung, and I had barely time to drag her off the track when the train started." "It must have been a great care for you," remarked a passenger, "to bring your children on so long a journey." "It was, indeed," she replied. "Generally the worst part of it was in getting them into the trains: the children are so small, and the rush of passengers so great, that they were in danger of being trampled on, or prevented from getting aboard in season." "Everybody looks out for Number One at such times," said a man. "I often think that we see more of the selfishness of human nature while travelling than under any other circumstances. I suppose you were left to get along as best you could with your little ones." "Usually," she replied. "Sometimes, however, a stranger, bound the same way, would give us a helping hand; but often he would blunder so as to make matters worse. Once I was both amused and frightened. I was struggling to place my children on a train just starting, and, making little headway. I called out, 'Will some one help my children into the cars?' when one of the largest, fattest men I ever saw, who was panting and puffing from his unusual efforts at hurrying, caught up my little boy, and, trotting on like an elephant, he struck his foot against a stone, and came down sprawling into the sand, uttering a great, wild cry, and giving my little boy a throw at the same time. I felt sorry for the man, but thought I should die laughing at the queer figure he cut. And, ungrateful as it seemed, I was obliged, in going for my boy, to pass around our huge friend, and ride off, leaving him to pick himself up at his leisure."