The Georgetown news., 1856-02-14

anu aSkeu MIN why ne looked so Ill. sup
pose there was something in the tone of
my voice, or gentleness in the pressure of
my hand, that seemed to act like electricity
on the talntlng man, and he looked up in
my face as though it was the first kind word
that he had heard for months.
In the meantime the rest of the party had
disappeared over the hill, and never saw
them again. After resting a while [ sue
ceeded in getting him to the edge of lit
tie brook, where l bathed his face, which
was now flushed and fevered, and then he
sat at the root of tree until I cut fir
branches and built shelter for the night.
By the time my shanty was finished, branch
es strewed on the ground and blankets
spread down, my patient was unable to walk
and was delirious. / dragged him to the
hut, covered him with blankets, struck a
fire, and sat down to ruminate on my situa-
ton.
The twilight sank down behind the hills,
and one by one the stars appeared. The
hills rose precipitously on every side, and
directly over our camp rough beetling rocks
were piled on each other, so high and ma
ked that stunted cedar which once stood
half way up could not find sustenance, and
had tumbled down to the bottom. The
shadows of night soon hid the hill-tops, and
the fir trees grew thicker and darker, until
nothing could be seen except by the light
of my campfire. This was the first night |
had ever spent IN the voiceless woods, much
less with dying man; and such believed
my companion to be. 1t is sstrange how the
strong man shrinks from contact with death
when alone. had helped to gather up the
mangled limbs of my companions after the
battle of CerrO Gordo, and when my task
was done, l threw myself down on the
ground and slept soundly; but when here in
the deep pine woods, in the noiseless glens
of the Sierra, shuddered at the thoughts
of witnessing the struggle between my vast
ed companion and the king of terrors.
That was long and dismal night to me;
nothing was to be heard but the gurgling
of the brook and the melancholy wall of
the wind through the tree-topS. Once or
twice l heard the sharp angry howl of the
wolves that had scented US, and then | re-
membered hundred dreadful stories about
being eaten up by wild beasts. God pre-
serve me from another such eternity of mis-
cry as was that night!
Just when the first streaks of morning
appeared, my companion became restless,
| struggled, and seemed to be conversing with
some phantom. l crept up close to him,
and could distinguish broken sentence
now and then.
''There she is beating her now! Bill is
gone and now she is beating Janle" In an
| instant remembered the circumstances re-
lated in the first part of this story, and
could it be possible that this was the wild
ow's son? Goriously did the day break on
our camp in the wilderness. The sunlight
crept slowly down the hillside to our camp,
and feIt an indescribable relief, that that
long and terrible night was over. My pa
tient's reason returned and the fever abated,
and | sat down beside him and told him of
the occurrences of the night. For some
reason | became satisfied of his recovery,
and it was with difficulty that l could re-
frain from shouting in exultation at the tri-
umph over death. X
Again found myself on the green prai-
ries of Illinois. The SHOWS had just melted
away, and the prairie flowers had just be-
gun to turn their faces heavenward to be
kissed by the sunlight. How joyously the
larks sang that morning! 1t seemed as
though they were sending up united song
of gratitude to the Creator that had given
them a heritage in the wide prairies, after
he had rolled up the mantle Of frost and
snow, and left the earth green and glad
looking as the garden of God.
The lone tree and the little cabin appear
ed in sight, and Bill and myself trudged 81
lentIy AS we neared the hut we could dis
tinguish the sound of the spinning Wheel
The old house dog lay on the steps, but he
was too stupid and feeble from age to no.
tice US. AS we had previously agreed, we
entered the cabin and asked for something
to eat, we'll knowing that we would not be
recognized, with our bronzed and unshaven
faces. The good woman and her daughter,
bright looking girl of seventeen, or there
abouts, set aside the spinning-wheel, and
placed before US everything at their COM
mand, and then resumed their employment,
as though every moment was precious. At
ter dinner we inquired of her whether she
had son in California? She said she knew
not where her son was-she thought he was
either dead, or had come to some bad end.
The girl hurried away to the kitchen; |
we'll knew what for! | left the house and
started toward my own home; every now
and then looking up to Heaven, through
tears of gratitude, that | had been the
means of restoring the widows son.
LENGTH OF DAYs.-At Berlin and Lon