The prairie news. [volume] (Okolona, Miss.) 1851-1875, 1858-04-01

sure, restored; then drawing herself to
one side of the road, she uncOnsciously
seated herself beneath this tree. She then
gave herself up for lost, and her agony
was indescribable. What then would she
have given to have been at her dear home,
to have been with her dear friends; her
father, whom she loved more than all
others on earth, how would he bear the
sad news of his lost child! Her dearly
beloved mother who had nurtured her
from infancy, how could she bear the news
of her lost daughter! So perfectly alb
sorbed in this train of thought, she
noticed not the fury of the storm, but re-
signing herself to the will of Providence,
she awaited death, which she thought
would inevitably come, never once think
ing of to-morrows sunshine, for had she
so thought, she would not have been woz
man.
But | will take you back to my own
sheltcring tree, where | remained until
the rain almost ceased and the moon, at
short intervals, would shine out, render
ing objects at a short distance, visible !;
then giving my horse the rein, started
out, not without, however, feelings of a
far different nature than any had ever
felt. resolved that ! would never re-
turn home, nor seek the face of any hui
man being on earth, until | found the OBJ
ject of my search, or perished in the at
tempt. | did not, at first, pretend to guide
my horse, but let him choose his own wav,
until my impatience became so great to
find my road, that must have turned
him around, which soon found out, judg-
ing from his unwillingness to go. But
thinking, as all lost persons do, that | was
in the right, | whipped him on until,
coming to a creek that ! had not before
seen, | knew that | was wrong; was
then satisfied that my only chance to ever
get back was by the instinct of my horse
Once more gave him loose rein and gave
myselfup to thought The moon seemed
to shed Its light more brightly than l had
ever before seen it, Nothing disturbed
my thoughts, or rather might say, dis
tractcd reverie, save every now and then
some wild animal would leap out before
me, with low, sullen growl, as if mad
that | should disturb him in his midnight
search for his prey. My horse began to
exhibit signs of very great hunger and
fatigue and heartily did | sympathise
with the poor fellow, for he had been to
me, that day, all that | could have re-
quired; but as for myself, felt that /
needed or wanted nothing in the world
but the dear object of my search Isuc-
ceedcd at last in regaining my road,
though at a very late hour. Just imagine,
gentle reader, for a moment, that you
were yourself in that wildeness-that
uninhabited wilderness, all solitary and
alone, at the dead hour of night, when all
earth seemed wrapt in the most profound
slumber, nothing to be heard or seen,
save the bright stars, or the pale faced
moon as she silently climbed her midnight
path, shedding her rays in rich profusion
over tranquil and seemingly happy
world. 1t were enough for one to be thus
alone, at such an hour, without being
burdened with the weight of grief, which
bore so heavily upon me. Though on
| travelled, but at very slow pace, for
my faithful horse had almost done his
last; but day beginning to dawn, my
feelings were to some extent relieved,
and not until that time had / felt the
least hunger or fatigue, and, had imag-
ined for moment what indescribable joy |
awaited me in the next half mile, my
then depressed spirits would have been
as fresh and buoyant as they were the
morning previous, at starting on my trip.
Coming to sudden turn in the road,
Rainbow, who was ever on the lookout,
was first to discover. Stopping short, he
threw his ears forward, gave low neigh,
as if in recognition, advanced within a
few feet of her and stopped again. My |
joy was so sudden, 50 transporting, so per-
fectly indescribable, that for moment |
was unable to utter single word, or
move from my seat. She, too, by so sud |