The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-11-09
Mlsteua11eor1s.
Buck.Woods Life.

scrawny girl of thirteen years. remember,
when he helped me to climb up tho wheel
into the great wagon where mother, the baby
.,and Dave had already boon cnsconccd, father
said, with that tone into which the voice
slides 30 easily when we are breaking away
from home.
you'll be woman, Nora, before you eco
old Illinois again.
II was strange subject Of contemplation
for such time, when tho heart was full Of
the old memories that, cluster around tho
humblest home; when tho eyes OF oil OF us
were swimming in tears; and the first miles
of our long journey were being finished. But
still could not help rejecting on those words
of my father, You'll be woman, Nora
What great change was upon the threshold
of which was now standing; 30 much an
era in tho life of us that father used 1t, half
unconsciously, as tho measurement OF time,
the date of an epoch?
think we arc apt to seek new channel
Of thought when the last goodbye has been
said. and the rumbling Of wheels reminds us
that the partings are really over at last
The soul has been so long busy with this ever
approaching climax of tears and grief, that
when once the die is cast 1t turns willingly
from under the special pressure to some un-
tried, contemplativc phase.
And as the wagon wound along the road
while father was watching tho rctrcating
home scenes, and mother was drying her eyes
with very doubtful success sat and won
dcrcd what was before. What should this
wild, ungainly, restless, homely girl bc rs u
woman? What untIicd, undrcamed OF path
would open before me by-and-by? Should !
love 10 Chamber over fences then? Should !
love TO sit and watch the lightning and listen
to tho thundcr2 Should | love lambs, and
chickens, and little pigs? And would it bc
tho height Of my ambition then, as now, to
jump the ropo greater number OF times than
anybody else could, and play the lcai.and-
comb harpsichord better than even Jim Lane,
the boy music king? can scarcely tell where
my thread of thought, though unwinding,
would have led me, had not tho stout voice
of John my elder brother, who was pcdcs-
tranizing behind the family coach, burst out
with
Father, you've LEFT the saw, and the axe
and them two scythcs.'
Father drew in tho rcins, looked thought.
ful q moment, stood up on the tongue, and
gazed back down the road, glanced at moth
or, and then slid, with sigh
We'll, I'm sorry They're worth five dollars
an moncy'll be scarce in the now country
but IL can't 90 back"
SO we logged along.
Our turnout was of tho popular pattern,
for which, fortunately, no patent had been
wheels covered with white cloth stretched
upon archcd poles, and forming canopy
suggestive of the milky way filled with
boxes of clothing, barrels of provisions, and
divers cooking utensils, the whole drawn by
pair of stout, though somewhat scragSy'
iarm-hOrscs.
will attempt to givo the panorama OF our
long, slow journey over 80 many hundred
miles in such yicissitudcs of weather, cooking
our well-eaten meals in the open mir, and
sleeping within tho half.shcltcr under the
storm as we'll as starlight. When night came
father would drive out one side Of the Rad,
unhitch the horses, and then prepare for the
cooking of supper. Mother was just az good
housewife there rs in our snug kitchen at
home. Everything was as clean as 1t could
bc; the biscuit were white and fcathery; and
the teakettlc swinging from the cross.stick on
the crotches, sang the identical song that Il
sung in illinois Father always gave than ks
over these outdoor meals; and used to no
tice or fancy noticed, moro soltncss in his
rugged tones than ever before.
One might've had been out many weeks,
had entered Minnesota, and were some forty
miles west of the falls Of st. Anthony, in the
broad belt of timber which reaches across that
section of the country; John and Dave were
out shooting pigeons, tea and biscuit were
being served and eaten with the usual relish
suddenly man on horseback pulled up be.
fore us, with the words:
For Gods sake, como and help us, IL you
know anything about doctoring He's bleed
ing to dcath!-Carl Is. Quick! Come
quick!' -.
Father was slowly gathering himself to-
ccther with the hard work, when ! strung 70
nervous quickncss by the mans manner and
story, ran to one Of the horses, scrambled 10
his back, and gallopcd away to the scene ol
the horrilyins disaster. l found young
man bleeding to death, as the messenger
had said-a cut across the arm seycring the
brachal artery. Thanks 10 my reading,
knew what to do. Putting my fingers IN the
cash from which the blood was spouting,
pressed the lips of the artery together, and
the flow Of blood ceased. Further than this
knew little or nothing. Another OF the party
had gone in the direction OF man living a
few miles back, who had tho reputation OF
being physician. had stopped tho flow
of blood. So far | was safe. More | would
not attempt. SO ! sat on the ground beside
him, and held my finger on the artery-hold-
inc his life there with my forefngcr.
No less than two hours elapsed before the
doctor came, and oil that time sat with my
finger on the creyicc through which hisliic's
blood had oozed away. Hc was very weak
and pale.
Sometime no would lie with his eyes qnite
closed, and the breathing scarcely pcrccpti.
bic. And he would turn his face toward mo,
and, fastening his eyes, seemed to study me
much as an invalid would study tho paper
on the walls. lie was very patient in wait
ing. and appeared very grateful for my time
ly coming and care. I.
Though brown and rough with exposure,
his arm was smoothly fashioned and his hands
were rather small for man ofexecutivc life.
I wondered, while sat there what kind Of q
life had saved-ifit were indeed savcd.-
Was this man, beside whom was knccling
these muscles, lips, cycs-a living power
for good virtue and truth, or was checking
the outflow Of q sort Of self.lile Of which the
ashes would be scarcely less valuable than III,
perfect structure before met wondered =
Who wss his fatherf
Who vas his motherf
Hal he sisterl
Had he q brotherf