The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-08-18
A Sad Story.
BY P. B. GAGE.

this story romance, but it is romance
of reality-not only sad, but sadly true.
The characters in its brief but bitter
tragedy are an aged woman, her daugh-
ter Mary, and her grandson Charley,
ten years old.
The family had once been in comfort
able circumstances, but death had taken
away their providers and protectors
the grandfather first, then the son-in-
law, in his prime-and left to struggle
alone, these poor women had found it
hard at times to keep the wolf from the
door.
They were Industrious, worthy peo-
pie, who tried to do right, and willingly
turned their hands to any labor that
could gain them an honest livelihood.
A time at last came when work was
scarce and wages so scant that they
could no longer supply even their little
wants in the neighborhood where they
lived. They must go to some other
place; but where?
II was a question that dire necessity
would soon settle for them. The small
rent of the humble house which had
sheltered them they could not pay. A
gloomy prospect lay before them. No
door seemed open anywhere to let them
in. At last, seeing no other way to
solve their difficulty, they sadly made
arrangements to separate, at least until
better days should dawn.
In town some twenty miles distant
where they had once lived-a place
was found for grandmother. Mary was
to go into another family to work; and
farmer in the same town was to take
little Charley and bring him up. Hav-
ing thus planned their affairs, they only
waited a favorable day to set out on
foot to their new places of abode.
It was now March; and March in
Vermont is winter. But on the fourth
day ofthe month the cold, rough weather
changed. The sun rose clear and beau
tiful, and the air was mild. Bidding
farewell to their old home, the three
started upon their long walk of twenty
miles. They had little to carry and lit
tie to leave.
For ten miles the road descended from
the bleak hills into the Onion River
valley. In a little village there our
travellers stopped at noon with some ac-
quaintances. After a brief rest they
went cheerfully on, hoping to conclude
their journey by nightfall, and looking
forward with hope to years of self-sup-
port, perhaps of prosperity and reunion
under the same roof once more.
Their route lay up the valley. After
leaving the village, the road winds up
the river some distance and then as
cends steep hill, near Molly's Falls.
Here the river plunges along its rocky
bed, down 3 rapid slope of nearly three
hundred feet. 1t is a romantic spot,
and charming to visit in the summer
time; but on that day a facade of ice
and snow covered the foaming waters.
Climbing to the head of the falls, the
weary family crossed the stream, re-
crossed it farther on, continued their
way till they reached Bruce's Mills, and
then crossed it again, the third time.
They were now on the north side of
the river, only half mile from the
"Two-mile Woods" and at this point
the real tolls and terrors of their journey
commenced.
The weather, so serene in the morn
ing, grew threatening, and presently a
strange, thick mist enveloped every-
thing. They struggled on, but the mist
darkened and deepened till they could
scarcely see before them.
The air was perfectly still. No voice
or sign of living thing was heard to
cheer them. Even the little snow-birds
were hidden now. Silence and desola-
ton seemed to have shut them in for
ever
The increased difficulty of travel soon
told upon the strength of the aged
grandmother, and she betrayed sore fa-
tigue. Poor Cbarley's feet dragged
heavily. Mary, his mother, held out
bravely, and tried hopefully to keep up
the spirits of her little party.
Before they reached the edge of the
woods flakes of snow began to float
down through the mist. The sight ot
these made all their hearts fiutter with
dread, for already the shadows of even
ing were making the thick air blacker
They entered the forest, and as they
labOred on they beard a sullen roar in
the air. At first it seemed only the
breeze moving in the tree-tops, but il
grew louder. Solemn and awful as the
sound of the sea, it swelled upon theiI
ears, and came nearer and nearer Then
came the storm. 1t burst over the
mountain and swept down upon the
lonely travellers in fury of wind and
snow.
Dwellers among the hills of Vermont
remember that fearful night. MANY
who have watched the storms for fifty
years say that they never before mol
since witnessed so wild tempest. The
wind blew hurricane, and the thick
neecy snow made the darkness a beat.
ing, binding horror. Unlucky rider.
caught out upon the road in sleighs
could not see their horses. In exposed
places the fierce blast took away one,
breath, and pierced every bone of th,
body. Even in the forest no houseles!
head could long dare such a storm il
safety.
What must become of the three tireC
travellers on foot, two of them nearly
exhausted, wrestling through the snow
JOY There is a light And fully
believing that their troubles were at al
end for that night, they hurried TOWARD
= the CLEAN and reached the door of {
comfortable house. Alas humanity
6lushes to record the rest. They asked
for shelter, and were turned away!
Half mile further on they saw an
other light, and again begged for shell
ter. Incredible as it may seem, they
met the same repulse. A mercilesi
hand shut the door in their faces anC
left them to perish.
Did no compunction touch the crlie
hearts of those dwellers in the fores
who turned their fellow-beings out ts
the demon of the storm?
Weak and discouraged, the wanderen
struggled on. They knew that family
lived at the next house who would show
them common pity. But it was a mil,
away. Could they reach it?
Conscious that this was their las