Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 186?-1872, 1869-05-01

tween the pulpit and the main land,
and that was severed. True she was
not more than twenty feet distant
from the shore of the river, but she
might as well have been thousands OF
miles out in the ocean. The water
was deep, and it ran with almost in
conceivable rapidity, forty or fifty
feet below her, over rocks so sharp
and Jagged that it made her shiver to
to look over the brink.
Her only hope was in her husband.
Should he return at the expected
time, they might still be alive; but
If by any accident he should be de-
tanned beyond the time! She closed
her eyes, and besought God for pro-
lection and help.
Cold, hungry and drenched by the
mist Of the rivers, Charlie began to
cry for home. She could fear any
thing better than that. She took off
her own garments to fold around him,
and held him to her breast, and sang
him the cradle songs which had so
often soothed him.
But the fierce howls of the wolves,
and the sullen thunders of the river,
filling his little heart with terror, all
the long dark night through he clung
to her neck sleepless, crying to go
home to papa.
Day dawned at last, the pale sun
swimming through the sickly sky,
the pallid forecast of q storm. Weak
and faint from cold-for summer is no
bearer of tropical smiles i'm this inhos-
nifahla alip,a-M Mortho ,>ooal ho ol,
and forth the narrow limits Of the
rock. Noon came-the faint sun de-
clined-it was night again. A cold
fog sank down over the mountain,
followed by drizzling rain, which
before morning changed into per-
feet deluge. The river rose fearfllly,
foaming milk white down the gorge,
filling the air with a shuddering roar,
like the peal of an imprisoned earth
quake.
The day that followed was no bet
ter, only rain and ashen-white mist
not a ray of sunshine.
A new fear in the heart of Martha
Warren. The turbulence of the
stream must have swept away the
bridge over which her husband would
cross on his return, and he would be
detained-for days, may be for weeks.
She gave up all for lost. Strongly
and fearfully was she tempted to fold
her child in her arms and plunge into
the cauldron beneath, and thus end
her fear and doubt! 1t would be bet
ter she thought, than to suffer that
slow and painful death of starvation !!
But something held her back-God's
M, \
der
Towards night a lost robin, beaten
about by the storm, stopped to rest a
moment on rock, Martha seized
him, and rent him in twain, with al
most savage glee, for her to devour
raw-she, who two days before would
havewept at the sight OF a wounded
sparrow.
Another night and day, like the
other, only more intensely ago
nizing. Wartha Warren was sud-
denly Indifferent now; suffering had
palsied every noble feeling. Charlie
moaned for supper-toO weak and
spent TO sit up, he was laying on the
rock, his head i'm her lap, his great
eye fixed on her face.
She tore open vein in her arm
with herscissors, and made him drink
the blood. Anything she said to calm
the wild, wistful yearnings of his
eyes.
The boy rose; he sat and peered
through the darkness.
" Mamma" said he, "papa is COM
ing. l felt him touch me-"
She wept at the mockery, and drew
the child frantically to her bosom.
The night was fair-lit up by the
new moon.
Overcome by deadly exhaustion,
against which she made no resistance,
Martha fell into an easy slumber,
which toward midnight was broken
by startling crying. She sprang to
her feet and gazed around her.
No! her eyes did not deceive her
there on the shore stood the stalwart
form of her husband, and he was call
ing her name with the energy of des-
pair. She could only cry out, go,
Mark, Mark !" and fell senseless on a
rock.
When she awoke to consciousness,
she was laying on her bed in the cot
tage, supported by her husbands
arms. 1t was 10 dream she and her
darling boy were not dead; and he
had come back.
Many weeks passed before she grew
strong again, but Mark tended her as
q mother would an infant, and by the
time the autumn frosts fell, she was
the blithe Martha Warren of old.
At the time Of the freshet the bridge
over the Ammonoosue had indeed
been washed away, but Mark, i'm
PEELED 10y an uncomfortable fear-al-
most a presentement-had crossed the
river, at the risk of his life, on log
raft, and reached home only to find
it vacant.
The descendants of Mark Warren
and his wife still dwell among the
fertile valleys of the Ammonoosue,
and the old men still tell their grand
children the story of Martha Warren
and her child.