Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-07-11

ing, new fallen snow, and bearing such
burden as he carried, he we'll knew was
sufficient to tax TO the utmost tho physical
powers of the hardest man. lie feared that
his strength was unequal to the task but
this fear was as nothing compared TO the
greater one of losing his way. The shroud
of snow oblteratcs all landmarks. The
landscape of summer can not be identified
i'm its winter robes, even in the bright sun
light; and then there was no sunlight. Va
pors, of which the snow-f fakes and The
hoar- frost are born, yelled the Sierra in
mantle Of gloom, shutting Off the view of
distant objects, and so distorting those at
hand, that the most familiar things could
not be recognized.
"Were the perils a thousand times what
they, are" said John to himself, "stlll
would venture. She has borne and nur-
tured the boy, and, if he lives till night,
she Shall see him once again, alive; or else
be aud win sink into these SHOWS. TO be
chill and frozen until spring-then to feed
I the coyotes aud buzzards."
From many standpoints, theN summit OF
the Sierra Nevada, near the SOURCES of the
various forks of tho Yuba river, seems to
the observer vast, nearly level plateau;
but when progress in any direction is at
tempted, the continuity of the seeming
plain is found to be broken by tortuous ra-
vines, that wind in every direction, and
by occasional canons, thousands Of feet in
depth, with sides of steep incline.
Hemming had "raised the hill," as the
mountaneers term it, from the bottom of
| 1. ,I,a.
now safety and success were dependent on
his always choosing (when the frequent al
tentative was presented) the ridge which
led to Howes Flat, and avoiding that which
led astray; in crossing the numerous ra-
vines at the proper point; and finally in
making, at or near the proper place. the
hazardous descent from the mountains
| brow to Howes Flat in the depth of the
canon below. Swiftly he moved, with
| watchful care, seeking TO recognize fami-
lar objects, but finding none, and often con-
sulting pocket compass, to be in part Sc
cure of his general direction. Hour after
hour he toiled on, in doubt and uncertain
ty, his only guide being what the sailors
call "dead reckoning" He grew faint and
weary, and still, with will that conquered
bodily weakness, he slid swiftly down in
TO the ravines, to struggle up the opposite
slope, and td resume the weary monotony
of shuffling along the flat. Ever and anon
lie listened for the troubled breathing of
the boy, and sometimes, in his anxiety, he
spoke to him when the faint "Yes, papa"
that came from little Johnny's lips fell on
his ears like knell.
A1mOniShp1 a lnnotb ~ bn f,Si r,1I I'm
shadows of night, as well as his rapidly
waning strength, John determined TO make
the descent into-he canon from the noun
tain along the brow of which he had for an
hour toiled. He felt no certainty that
Howe's Flat lay below +; indeed, he scarce
ly dared hope SO much. "But what mat
ters it," thought he, "whcther we perish
on the hill above or in the abyss beneath ?''
In the haslc of preparations, John had
forgotten nothing. He undid from his own
waist wide band. or surcinge ; passed il
around Johnny and himself outside of all
wrappings, and buckled il as tight as he
he dared, TO prevent the boy being thrown
from him in case of accident. He sbudder-
ed TO think of himself cropping for the lad
deep buried in the snow, where a disaster
would hurl him.
Hemming was too familiar with the
mountains in that vicinity, and with the
use of snow shoes, to attempt to pick his
way down the canon's side. He knew that
whatever there was of valley lay at least
two In lusand feet, as the plummet falls,
. below where he stood, and the descent to
that depth must be made in a travelling dis
tance of little more than one mile. No
man could keep his footing, at a leisurnly
pace, OH such an incline. There was but
one way, and that was, to make a dash
With cautious steps and rigid muscles
Hemming approached the mountains brow
and launched himself on its slope. Away
he Sped swilter than the torrents of spring
that course down those hill-sides-swftel
than the flight of an eagle, as he swoops OF
: his prey. Scarcely seen in the advance,
and deity avoided with skill known on
ly to the adept in the use of snow-shoes
the few scattering trees fled up the steel
/, incline behind him as cloud-shadows cours'
across the plain on an April day-faste
and faster. And now the even grade i
broken by sheer precipices of ten, fifteen
or twenty feet, over which he rode scarce
conscious of the breach of continuity un
; der his feet. With lungs still distendet
with tine breath inhaled at the top, he reach
ed the bottom, the impetus of the descent
carrying him far ou. on the level. With
: murmured thanksgiving, John realized
that the immediate peril was past. "Whith
er now ?" said he. The anxious question
was answered on the instant for he sa,
Immediately before him looming out o
the mist, the outline of house, which, a
: he approached took upon itselfa wondrou
. familiar look. The orchard tree-tops peer
;, ing above the snow, the green blinds, ant
=, the porch over which now leahess vim
>, wound its lone naked arms told him tina
> he now stood at the door of his wife's cot
tage.
Margaret, sitting at the window, had fo
hours gazed out into the gloom-had 70
hours watched the idle snow fakes, as the
sauntered to EARTH and listened for the oC
casional sough that betokened a risin
i wind; but her thoughts were elsewhere
Fit time for retrospection She had one
10 again reviewed her whole past life: ha
- thought of her girlhood; Of the days I
!, courtship; of her fierce, tumultuous loy
for John of her marriage at eighteen;
n her husbands determination to visit Call
Y fornia of his preparation and deparuI
d for the land of promise; of the birth of 1T
d Johnny, on the day of which this was th
Ie tenth anniversary of her struggles wit
Of poverty, while fortune frowned on HI
,r husband, sick and destitute in the land
d gold of the days when she earned brea
m for herself and boy, by schoo-teacbin
70 whereby was formed the habit of self r.
y lance , of her persistent self-culture in a