The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-12-03
Providence.


1t was Saturday afternoon The mid
summer sunlight lay warm and bright
on all the New England hills, and crept
in waves of glimmering gold over the
white, sanded floor of Deborah Hunters
tidy kitchen. Debbie herself sat just
beyond the doorway, with huge basket
of newly-ironed clothes beside her, from
which she was asserting variety of lit
tie garments, pausing now and then to
darn hole, or sew on button, and
singing to herself softly the while for
she was happy wife and mother, and
her heart cheerful, despite the endless
duties that kept her willing hands ever
busy.
Out in the garden, in the shadow of
the elm trees, where the Haunting tulips
and sunhowers bloomed, and the bees
made homely music, Mark and little
lofty were playing, and chattering like a
pair of parrots.
And presently they came toddling III,
Mark leading his chubby little sister by
the hand.
Mother" he said, "may we go
down to the wood and gather strawber-
ries 2 Father likes 'em with cream, you
know! Please let us, mother. I'll
put Totty's shoes on, so the briars can't
scratch her feet, and I'll take good care
of her. Mother, may we gOg"
Debbie smiled and nodded, and Mark
ran off for Totty's shoes, and after con-
siderable granting and tugging, succeed
ed in getting them on her chubby feet.
Then he clambered up to the dresser,
and got little tin kettle, and off they
started, hand in hand.
"Now, Mark, take good care of your
sister," called his mother, "and don't
go near the pond. And come back
soon, for ] think we shall have rain be-
fore night"
And the midsummer afternoon waned
slowly. The sunshine danced and glim-
mered amid the green elm branches, the
bees hummed about their hives, and the
hens cackled lazily in the barn yard; and
the breeze, growing stronger, tossed the
purple lilac boughs till the air was heavy
with their sweet perfume. Debbie
worked on, singing softly to herself,
and the sunlight crept stealthily across
the sanded floor and disappeared at last
beyond the doors. His work was done
all the little garments ready for the COM
ing Sabbath. She rose and put her bas-
ket aside.
"What can make them stay so 2" she
thought, looking out again, and finding
the sky well-nigh overcast, and the great,
black thunder-cloud rolling rapidly up
before the rising wind.
The poor mother, now thoroughly
frightened, caught up a shawl, and
throwing it over her head, closed the
door and ran down toward the wood,
calling her children as she ran. But
there came no answer, no sound but the
roar of the gathering storm and the angry
booming of the thunder.
She searched and called in vain they
were nowhere TO be seen, ana, half fran
tic with anxiety, she ran back again and
met her husband, just returned from his
labor, at the door.
ooh, Nathan, she cried, "the chill
| dren are gone-lost IN the wood. What
shall we do2"
He turned without word to the huge
| Newfoundland dog that stood behind
| him.
"Gyp," he said, the children are
| gone come, we must find them ~
And Gyp trotted soberly after him,
followed by the poor, distracted mother.
AS they reached the wood, the storm
broke upon them in all its fury. The
clouds rolled up in great masses, blot
ting out the waning daylight, and the
| lightning blazed and famed in every di-
rection, while the thunder ratified from
hill to hill, and the winds tore and
shrieked amid the trees like q pack of
demons. And presently the rain began
to pour down in great, drenching sheets.
Poor Deborah wrung her hands in ag-
ony.
ooh, my children !" she cried "my
poor little Totty, what will become OF
her ?"
The father hurried on, followed by
Gyp, on and on, till they were in the
very heart of the wood. But no trace
of the children appeared.
"Gyp," said the father, turning to
his dog again, "can't you find the chill
drena Come, good dog, try -
And Gyp, with his nose to the ground,
went off like an arrow. The parents fol
lowed, needless of the pelting storm
On and on, into the heart of the wood
and round to the shore of the pond
There the poor fellow stopped, with 8
peculiar, mournful cry.
The father and mother fastened up.
There, in the yielding earth, were little
footprints, the unmistakable impress OF
Totty's chubby shoes and broken flow.
ers; and presently away out upon the
yellow, angry waters of the pond, they
espied Marks little cap.
As she recognized 1t, the poor mother
uttered a piteous cry.
"Oh, my precious babies they ar,
gone-they are drownedl"
Yes" replied the father, hoarsely
they are gone! must get help anc
drag the pond My poor wife, you hat
| better come home
But Deborah shook her head, ant
crouched down upon the shore of tn,
yellow pond. And there she sat, will
the pitiless storm beating on her un