The Morristown gazette. [volume] (Morristown, Tenn.) 1867-1920, 1873-05-21
discovered them all asleep iu various

positions.
read till was tired. then walk
ed the floor till the sun began to dis
appear behind the hills. The men
one by one awoke-had their tin
pals filed with liquor-shuffied cut
the door, stood at the crossing,
shivering, then separated, each going
toward his poor home.
That night I slept before the
roaring fire in the same room where
l ate my supper, for had attempted
staying in the loft where a bed was
made for me, should have perished
before morning.
/ awoke late, and after breakfast
walked down to the station. The
engineer told me we could not move
for another day. We expected
another engine, with men to shovel
or tunnel through the snow. and pre-
vided they arrived by noon it would
take all the afternoon to clear the
track.
was returning to the house, fit
of the blues coming on fast, when
just at the crossing, met a man in
a sleigh.
"Where are the folks what got
stuck here vest morn," came from
the well wrapped up man. 1 Inform
ed him was one of them, the others
were scattered in the different farm
houses around.
Maple you could do" said the
man, eyeing me from head to foot.
1t was cold standing there in the
snow, jumped into the sleigh with
him, and he drove toward the house
where l had stopped over night.
Il came over here," said the man,
''to find some one that would say
few words over a young woman what
died yesterday on the island. You
amt parson, be you?''
Ireplied, Il was not, but would
! go and read and pray with the
family
"Twon't do much good, guess
was the reply; "but thought t would
do sum good to hear a few words
from parsons lips"
! After warming ourselves by the
fire, and muffling well, we started for
the little island, two miles from the
shore. The snow was deep, there
being only the tracks where the
sleigh had come over the morning.
could get no information from the
man relative to the death.
You'll know, soon enough" was
his answer to my inquiries.
A short distance from the island
shore stood much better looking
house than I had seen in D.
The man drove toward the door and
got out, saying:
This is my house, get out and
warm yourself"
We entered the house by the only
door visible, and found a well-kept
kitchen. removed some of my
wraps, thinking the dead lay here.
The stranger, noticing my move
ments, said:
We'll be going now"
buttoned my overcoat and fol-
lowed my guide. / could see moth
ing before me but an old shed. AS
we drew near I discovered a mans
tracks leading to door that threat
ened to tumble in or out at any
moment. My guide turned and
walked straight to the door, and
beckoned me to follow. We entered
the shelter, and as gazed [ reeled
against the rickety door-frame. A
rusty stove, pile of straw and rags,
beside them a cup with a spoon
frozen in a drop of milk. But on
that straw lay young woman. Her
soft brown hair floating in waves
over neck and arms; while close
pressed against the cold bosom lay
a baby-both frozen to death.
my God! thou knowest the
cause of this" was the flashing
thought that seized me.
Look there" said the man. I
drew nearer.
Did the angels weep at the sight?
l grew sick and faint. The strong,
rOugh-spoken man by my side trem-
bled at the sight, and great tears
from the pent-up fountains of years,
rolled down his weather-beaten
cheeks.
Clearer than the pearls in your
hair, fair one, was the pearl / saw in
that old shed. The baby's head was
pillowed on the mether's arm, its
little fingers curled into the palms of
it's hands, so thin and white. But
upon its check was a frozen tear drop.
Tell me-" / cried, "who has done
this p
''The husband of the woman, the
father of that babe,' said the man.
SIX years ago, Harry Osborne
was the smartest young man in
yonder town. pointing to a village
on the opposite shore from where