The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1870-08-05

bushes, he came in site of Anderson
kneeling by the figure they had 81
long sought; for, lying as if peace
fully sleeping, beneath the scanty
shade of a stunted bush, through
whose thin sharp leaves the evening
breeze sighed mournfully, was the
lsleeping girl, whose torn garments
lacerated feet, and arm bent beneath
| her head, showed that she had in
deed feed from the approach of the
sayages, and wandered on and on
hopelessly till she had laid down, as
she imagined, to sleep her last, long
lsleep. The hand which Anderson
lgrasped was tightly clutched; but in
! spite of its coldness, the thin, blue
lips, sunken eyes, and the unnatural
pallor of the face, it was evident that
she lived. The father, though, knew
it not, neither did Anderson; for,
weeping like children, they knelt on
either side, dreading to move her,
for she seemed now 'doubly sacred
in their eyes.
"Better than that we should never
have found her." said Samson in a
broken voice.
Teddy sure a find her some day.
Now fetch a water, and give her
drink" exclaimed the black; and
taking up what neither of the others
had noticed-the milking-pail that
the poor girl must have carried
from day to day in her many wan
derings-he went off and soon re-
turned with water 'a 1]lsa
''Keep back, fool" exclaimed An
derson, as the black pushed up to
Mary's head, and scooping up some
water in the hollow of his hand, he
made as if to pour it over the re-
clining form.
"No dead" exclaimed Teddy;
"give her drink. Dahp' he ejacula-
ted; for at that moment Anderson
gave cry of joy on seeing a light
quivering in one eyelid, while the
thin blue lips parted to emit sigh,
faint as that Of the wind above their
heads.
They had reached the poor girl
in time; but so near had she been
to her last breath that weeks
elapsed, during which she lay almost
insensible upon the borders of that
unknown land to which she had so
nearly travelled, before she could be
said to be out of danger.
Hers was a simple story-one
that she often told in after years to
Anderson's children, as, a happy
wife, she sat beneath his prosper
GUS roof-a story of how she had
finished milking a COW, and was car
rying her pail to the next, when the
gliding form Of black in his war
paint attracted her attention. Her
first idea was to flee to the hut; but
that she soon saw utterly impossi-
BILE for figure after figure appeared
between her and safety, and all she
could do was to go back quietly in
to the scrub and then, with the pail
she carried catching in the bushes,
so that the white milk splashed out
from time to time, she fed on hasti-
ly-always with the impression that
she was being tracked.
How it was she clung to the pail.
seemed to her a mystery; but it was
her salvation, for, utterly worn out
at last, she had fallen on her knees
in the dense wood as darkness came
on, dreading to move, and now for
The first time she remembered the
milk, and drank eagerly of the re-
naming but sadly diminished sup
ply, The next day she wandered
on and on, helplessly lost, ever
changing her course, and fleeing in
dread from the blacks she felt as
sured where on her trail. The milk
gave her life and strength that day
and the next, as she husbanded and
leaked out the falling drops with wa
ter, till the time came when all
seemed 8 feverish dream, wherein
she was struggling on through thor
ny wastes, with the hot sua pouring
its fervid beams upon her head.
She knew no more, for her next
recollection was of waking in her
own old bed at the hut, as from
long and troubled dream, till a
glance at her wasted hands, and an
attempt to rise, told her that the
dream was true.
The axe of the woodman, and fire,
have long since cleared the desolate
scrub, where herbage, the pasture Of
many herd and flock, has sprung
up; the advance of civilization too,
has dotted the W de plain with home
stead and shepherds hut, whose fre-
quency would now render such
catastrophe almost impossible, save
further up the country, where claims
are new, and civilization and savage
dom still battle lor the pre-eminence;
but the story is well known, and
there were, not long since, many
who were willing to point out the
spot where Mary Harris was found
on the point of death-Lost in the
Scrub.