The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1875-06-25

Before nine IN the evening" the wild winds
were sweeping over the hills and across the
bay. On shore, the elemental din was loud
and deep. Windows were blown in, Chin
ncys rocked, and some new buildings Just
falsed and boarded, toppled ovef. a dre-lch-
ing rai2, mingled with great hailstones,
came rafting Notwithstanding the long
streets, and pouring its full tribute down
the slopes that led seward.
There were sad watchers in that troubled
night-fathers, mothers, friends; but none
SO outwardly calm as the poor mother at the
old red farmhouse. She seemed almost
turned to stOne-so still and cold. Not
sound escaped her lips; not sigh came up
with the quiet breath.
Above the roar of the tempest, their came
ftfully, other sounds. The signal gun of
distress pcaled out upon the ar-the crash
ing of heavy timbers, the dull straining of
cordage, were all heard amid the brief paus-
es Of the storm. Two or three vessels were
certainly near shore. and their fate seemed
inevitable. Then came fearful crash, and
the watchers on the beach ran toward the
point from whence the sound came. A
and was fast breaking up; but brave hearts
were near, and, spite of danger in rescuing
them, they were nearly all saved, and borne
tenderly to the nearest houses.
All at once Mary Kennedy found herself
forsaken. AT the sound of distress that
walled up high over the storm, all had left
her. She reused herself, and, running to
he hot b,A
belonged to Andrew. His long woollen COM
forter hung beside 1.-THE same she had
knitted for him to wear to school. She tied
this over her head, put on the cape, and
went out into the binding storm, and down
TO the beach, guided by the lights that kind
hands had scattered here and there across
the beach-watchfires burning with dull
red glow that lighted up the waves as the
crimson sky had lighted it that evening As
she went on, she heard one and another say
that the Aibatross wa driving on shore No
one dreamed that the small quiet figure,
standing by great rock. was the mother of
Andrew Kennedy. They talked about him
talked of his pleasant ways and his good
heart, and how it would kill his parents if
he should be lost; but their talk was sud-
denly interrupted. The cold gray morning
had dawned The Albatross had been in
sight ever since the first gray light appeared.
No boat could live in the boiling waves; no
liteboat was there. There was nothing to
do, but to wait till the ship should strike or
dread Attenuation go down into the
depths with all her precious freight of hu-
man lives.
go God in heaven, there is but plank
between my child and death - murmured
| the miserable mother, speaking for the first
time since the storm had commenced
She spoke no more, for the ship came on,
her heavy timbers straining, creaking driv-
ing on and on, apparently to destruction.
The crew had laborei bravely, but, ia this
crisis, they could do naught bat stand upon
the deck and wait, while the ship rolled and
plunged, as unmanageable as a wild horse.
Among the figures standing there, Mary
saw her child. 1t must have been pure in
stinct; else she could not have known that
tall weather-beaten figure, so large and
strong and dark, for her fifteen-year-old
STRIPPING. But the heart took in what the
eyes and the memory lost From that time,
she never lost sight of him. until he threw
! himself into the sea and disappeared amidst
, the boiling waves. Then giant billow bore
him upward again, and hope and despair
played at deadly Odds with the mothers
heart. And now there were two of them
together battling the great waves, and SEEM
ing to be cheering each other on-another,
as young and active "a the first Dear God,
will they ever be saved? And those brave
sailors. fighting with the giant waves beyond,
can they ever come to land? All, there are
other brave scamen on the beach, throwing
ropes to the exhausted men in the water. 1t
nerves them afresh. They know now that
their friends on shore have hope and courage,
and it braces them to new efforts.
One after another Snatches the heavy ca
/ bles, and cling to them, passing them around
strength to tying the great knots. Then
they give up. and lie floating upon the waves,
while those on the beach pull gently and
| tenderly upon the ropes. Fifteen are drawn
safely on shore. The other poor fellow,
weak and exhausted, was dead when taken
| from the water. 1t was not Andrew, nor
| Dick Armstrong; for, already, strong arms
had borne them to their homes.
| Painting and breathless, a little figure, in
mans cape and a woollen head-covering.
followed the bearers of Andrew Kennedy !;
and not until it reached the gate at the farm
I house, did il lay a cold hand within the
/ great palm of Mathew Kennedy. He start
i ed, as if an iceball had touched him, and !,
turning. saw Mary
1t was well that all through the day and
night following. fatigue bad numbed the
senses Of the family at the farm. So much
had been gone through, that only the deep
sleep of exhaustion could rest them. There
was no sound in the house all that time, ex-
cept the hushed footsteps of the work peo-
/ pie, doing quietly what must be done.
! But a joyful group met in the breakfast