Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1878-09-05

ly in the range Of the guns I 1t was
evident they had taken the worst
direction, but there was mo- help for
il now-it was too late to turn back.
In her agony, the mother cried aloud
on God to protect her family. Mary
hugged closer the child in her arms,
and trembled so she could hardly
keep up. Another crashl The shot
shnieked past them, striking the
trees in every direction. The as
sauit was fierce the roar was inces-
SAINT. The frightened family rush.
cd on as swiftly as possible toward
a friends plantation, far back from
the shere; butdt was soon seen
that they would not have strength
to reach t, even If they were not
struck Down thy the flying shot.
The Americans were pouring their
FIRE into these woods, thinking the
enemy would seek refuge there.
The wretched fugitives expected
every moment to be their last. On
they pushed through mud and rain
and screaming shot.
Soon they found they were getting
more out Of range of the guns. They
began to hope ; yet now and then a
ball tore up the trees around them,
or rolled fearfully across their path.
They reached one of the houses
where their field-hands lived, with
no one hurt they were over mile
from the mansion, and out Of range.
The negroes said no shot had come
that way. Unable TO flee further,
the family determined to stop here.
As soon as they entered, Mrs. Glib
bes felt her strength leaving her,
1 and sank upon a low bed. Chilled
to the bone, drenched, trembling
| with terror and exhaustion, the
family gathered around her. She
sprang up wildly.
"Oh, Mary !" she cried, "where
is John P"
The little girl turned pale, and
me aned. "Oh, mother mother !
he's left !" She broke out crying.
The negroes, quickly sympathetic,
began to wiring their hands and
wall.
"SiIencel" |" said Mr.. Gibbes, with
stern but trembling voice. The
tears were in his own eyes. The
little child now missing was very
dear to all, and, moreover, was
deemed a sacred charge, as he was
one of the orphan children of Mr..
Gibbes' sister, intrusted to him on
her death-bed.
The wailing ceased ; there was
silence, broken only by sobs, and
the master asked
"Who is willing to go back for
the child PSI
No one spoke. Mr.. GibGes turn
ed to his wife for counsel. AS the
two talked in low tones, Mrs. Glib
bes called her husbands attention to
Mary, who was kneeling with clasp
ed hands, In prayer, at the foot Of
the bed. In moment, the little
maid rose and came to them, saying,
calmly
''Mother, I must go back after
baby"
"Oh, my child" cried the moth
er, in agony, 81 cannot let you go J"
"But, mother, 1 must" pleaded
Mary. "God will care for me-"
1t was a fearful responsibility.
The guns yet roared constantly
through the darkness the house
might now be in flames ; it might
be filled with carnage and blood.
Mrs. Gibbes turned TO her husband.
His face was buried in his hands.
Plainly, she must decide It herself.
With streaming eyes she locked at
Mary.
"Come here, my Child" she cail-
ed through her sobs. Mary fell
upon her mothers neck. One long,
passionate embrace. in which all a
mothers love and devotion were
poured out, and the clinging arms
were opened without a word. Mary
sprang up, kissed her fathers fore
head, and sped forth on her danger
Gus mission of love.
The rain had now ceased, but the
night was still dark and full Of ter
rors, for through the street she saw
the frequent flashes Of the great
guns. The woods were filled with
the burning echoes, so that cannons
seemed to be on every hand. She
few on with all speed. Soon she
heard the crashing trees ahead and
knew that in moment she would
be face to face with death. She did
not faiter. Now she was again in
the fierce .whirlwind All around
her the shot hOwled and Shrieked.
On every side branches fell crashing