The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-08-29
THE GREAT DROUGHT.
CHAPTER ".

THE GREAT DROUGHT.
CHAPTER ".
In that time of trouble and unex-
ampled events, the mind received i'm
pressions in a different manner from
what it had ever done before. The
stern gloom that hung over the future,
the hazard upon which life was sus-
pended, the close contact with uni
versal death, and the desperate strug.
gle by which it was STAYED off, gave
to all things new character; and the
scene of the last chapter was but one
of the series of deadly y and dreadful
excitements which were now the habit
of every day. The solemn frame of
mind which it induced in Ellen was
of piece with the solemn nature of
their existence; and she could talk of
it with her husband at any time, and
not disturb the natural bent which
their conversation took. They
searched the neighborhood for the
habitation of the unhappy mother
and her family; and the marks of her
footsteps on the dust of the soil ena-
bled them to trace her to Hope, vii
lage in the plain, two miles, or rather
more, from the Peak. She and her
husband had used the church for
their habitation, and, it seemed, had
employed the same kind Of precau-
ton as Paulett to defend it, and con-
ceal that it was their dwelling.
One entrance only was left, and the
other apertures blocked up; but all
care was useless now, for death had
set them free from pain and fear. On
a bed, beside the altar, lay the body
of man, over which was spread n
cloak of fur and velvet, which, in the
lifetime of the world, would have
been most precious. His eyes were
decently closed, the curtains of the
bed drawn round him, and the pillow
which supported his head was marked
with the pressure of another head,
and with moisture, which could have
been only the tears of his wife. The
floor of the church was in confusion,
like the dwelling of one too much dis
tracted with troubles to attend to
what did not relate to it; but there
was corn, which had served for food,
and fuel, heaped on n stone which
had been a hearth-there was draw
ing of woman and a beautiful place;
but these We're cast into corner, pro-
badly by thelrritable hand of despair.
On table, stood empty cups, which
had long, perhaps, been dry; the
glass of one had been shivered, and
the fragments lay on the floor; there
were also few books, neglected and
covered with dust. In the church.
yard were the marks of three recent
graves; one of them had n stone ut
its head, on which which was carved,
with care, the name of Alfred, and
the soil was fenced and supported
with sticks, so as to preserve its shape
over the body-probably it was that
of the first child, whom the parents
had committed to the dust. Another
was more hastily prepared, and no
superfiuous labor had been bestowed
on it. This must be the last, when
heart and health were both falling.
Panlett and Ellen kneeled and prayed
beside them, and rejoiced that the
mother, too, was ut rest, after the
long misery of this scene They re-
turned to the cave, and, under the
shadow of the rock, near the old
course of the brook laid both mother
and child, covering their bodies with
stones, and, thinking more of the
probable reunion, in some unknown
scene, OF the spirits of that family
than OF the distance which separated
their graves on this earth. -
And now, with good store Of dia.
monds, and with increasing skin and
success in the resolution of then ;nto
water, both Paulett and Ellen looked
upon the lives of all as safe for tha
present, and their thoughts were at
liberty to wander to some other snb.
Ject. They believed that they and
their children were alone in the
world; for every sign of life from
other countries, as well as their own.
mad ceased. It was very long since
any human tidings had come; and