Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1871-06-03

tired to Thank God that che was thus spared,
and hfted her eyes from the baby who had
the south ward, great red light ffted itself out
OF the gloom, and flashed and hickered, and
hichered and flashed again. Her heart huttered
the Nehthousc az the entrance of the bay. As
she was yet wondering, the tree suddenly rolled
little, dragged little, and then seemed to lie
quiet and sun; she put out her hand and the
aground, and, by the position of the light and
the noise OF the snrf, aground upon the Dedlow
Marsh.
Had IL not been for her baby, who was ailing
and croupy, had IL not been for the sudden
drying up Of that sensitive fountain, she would
have felt safe and relieved. Perhaps 1t was
this that tended to make all her impressions
mournful and gloomy. As the tide rapidly fell,
great flock of black brent futtered by her,
screaming and crying. Then the plover few
around the trunk and at last fssTlsssi ssf Ii
upon 1t like . gray cloud. Then the
heron few over and around her, shrieklng
and protesting ting and at last dropped lis
strsngest Of all, pretty white bird, larger
than dove-like pelican, but not pelican
circled around and around her. At last it lit
upon rootiet Of the tree, quite over her
shoulder. She put out her hand aud strokei
It's besutiful white neck, and 1t never appeared
TO move 1t stayed there % losg that she
and TO attract her attention. But when she aid
so, the child was so chilled and cold, and hsd
such blue look upon the little lashes, which
it didn't raise at all, that che screamed aloud,
ard the bird flew away, and she fanted.
we'll, that was the worst or Il, and perhaps
. was not so much, after all, to any bat her
self. For, when she recovered her senses, 1t
WAS bright sunlight, and dead low water.
There was q confused note of guttural voices
about her, and an old squaw, singing an
indian "hushaby," and rocking herself from
before which she, the recovered wife and
mother, lay weak and weary Her first thought
was for her baby, and was about to speak,
mother ese bsr been ana
brought her the "mowitch," pale but living,
In such queer little willow cradle all bound
up, just like the squew's own young one, that
she laughed and cried together, and the old
squaw and the young squaw showed their big
white teeth and glinted their black eyes and
said, PLENTY get well, skeens mowitch,"
could have kissed their brown faces In her Joy.
And then she found that they had been gather
ing berries on the marsh IN their queer, comical
baskets, and saw the ekirt OF her gown fiutter-
couldn't resist the temptation Of procur-
ing new garment, and came down
garment to the old squaw, as Jon may imagine,
and when he came at last and rushed up to her
looking about ten yeors older in his anxiety,
hes a' ssE TO
ing about the flood until he met the Indians at
Utopia, and knew by the signs that the poor
woman was his wife. And at the next high
tide he lowed the tree away back home, al
though IL wasn't worth the trouble, and built
another house, using the old tree for the foun-
dalton, and called IL, after her. "Mary's Ark"
But you may guess the next house was built
above high-wster mark. And that's all.
Not much, perhape, considering the mslevo-
lent capacity of the Dedlow Marsh. But YOU
must tramp over Ii at low water, or paddle over
II at high-tide, or get lost upon IL once twice
In the fog, a. 1 have, to understand properly
Msry's adventure, or to appreciate duly the
blessings Of living beyond high-water mark.