The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1873-10-02
SHE tribune.
ArRONTIER EPISODE.
BY P. W. CHAMBERS.


do you think you will be back
tonight? ?"
"Yes. if nothing happens. l know
the road is muddy, and my team is heayl-
" loaded. may mire down, or be 9TH
erwise delayed, but think you will see
ma before bedtime. "
wish the trip was over.
So do [ but you are not afraid to
stay here 2''
"No. not afraid but The little
woman sighed as she spoke and set about
preparing for her husbanps departure.
Manlike, be failed to observe the anx-
ious look in his wife's eyes, that he would
have detected SO readily in the eyes of
his bride. Nor when he gave the part
ing kiss did he observe the unshed tears
trembling on her lashes. or the culver
around her mouth With CHEEKY words
upon bis lips he seized his whip, and
giving the word to his team the heavily
ladened wagon rolled away.
William Armstrong, his wife and babe
were among the first white settlers west
OF the Tombigbee. They hailed from
Georgia, and placing the Creek nation
between them and their kindred, went
20 work with will retaining the I'M
known forest. With the ever friendly
Choctsws they were at peace, and antici-
pated no trouble from their more warlike
neighbors east OF the river.
Four years had they lived unmolest-
ed, and, together. kind Providence had
blessed their labors. No sickness had
visited them-their farm and stock yield
ed an ample support, and in the not dis
tant future, William Armstrong babe
far to become wealthy man. There
was one drawback, however, it was two
miles to the nearest white neighborhood,
and their little boy, Charley-a sturdy
chap of FIVE summers-had hardly seen a
white boy of his age.
At that time cotton was just becoming
an article of commerce. With an enter
prise beyond his wisdom our settler
planted his little farm in the feecy staple
The yield was abundant and the price
high, but there were no available facili-
ties for ginning and bailing. and SO he
was compelled to haul and ship his crop
In the seed. It was twelve miles to the
river-at landing on which village
had sprung up, which was the 'mar-
ket" for an extent of country which
now would support a city of no mean
pretensions.
This was his last load of cotton, and he
expected to bring back his annual supply
of groceries. Our pioneers. however,
bought but little. Wheaton bread once
a week, and coffee with sugar in it once
day, was an extravaganza in culinary
matters few could aspire to; and no
woman was expected to have two calico
gowns at once.
When her husband was gone, Mary
Armstrong did up her ordinary house
work, and then proceeded to the spring,
which was at the foot of the hill, some
two hundred yards from the house, to do
her weekly washing. Charley-their
only child-went out with her and played
near her till the washing vas nearly COM
pleted. Saying he was hungry, he set
off towards the house. His mother, in
tent upon her work, hardly noticed his
absence, nor could she even remember
how long since he had gone away, when
her task was ended, and. with pail of
newly washed clothes poised upon her
head, she started homeward.
As she assembled the hill, which hid
the house from her view while at the
spring, sight met her eyes that froze
her to the ground with horror. The
house was on fire!
The roaring flames leaped upward and
darted forth their lurid, whitening
tongues in fantastic gambols, as they were
sweep. by the winds.
Great God Oh, my child l'
gasped the bloodless lips, as the half
crazed woman rushed toward the burn
ing pile. Too late ! wretched mother,
too late The roof had fallen in, and the
walls and doorways are in a solid fame.
The child is now but charred and
shapeless mass-a blackened cinder with
no semblance of human form.
An unseen hand seemed to hold back
the frantic mother. Essay as often as
she would to rush forward, an outside
power seemed to restrain her, to hurl her
back, fainting and breathless.
Charley Charley Charleyl'' The
words rang out above the roaring din of
the flames, but they seemed more ike
wierd shriks of lost spirit than the cry
OF a human being. At last the walls fell
In, and shower OF sparks shot up
wards towards the pitiless sky. "Char-
ley !" rang out once more like wall of
despair, and the wretched mother fell
In deadly swoon. When she awoke to
consciousness again the flames were
burning low, and she looked eagerly to
see the body of her child
After the long afternoon-lopger than
hundred years TO her-the wretched
creature walked around the smouldering
ruins, wringing her hands in mute and
hopeless agony. She could see nothing
that resembled her BOY, and she almost
hoped he had escaped. All around the
farm she ran, back to The spring, aud
oyer the hills, crying, Charley" but
only the mocking winds in the tall pine
trees answered, or they drowned her
voice in their pitiless sweeps across the
Hintry woods,
Back to the ruins she ran, and resum-
ed that hopeless. agonizing walk around
the ashes Of her boy.
The sun went down the moon and
stars took their stations in the grand
march of the worlds, and the winds were
hushed, as night fell around her. The
woods were silent, save the distant howl
ing of pack of wolves, and the nearer