Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1879-05-15

is dust, till she reaches that devourino
den; and fercer and more furious
than any bird of prey that ever
bathed its bcak in blood, throttle
fiends that, with their heavy wings.
would fain flap her down the cliffs and
hold up her child ID defiance
No stop; no stay. She knew not
that she drew her breath. Beneath
her feet Providence fastened every
root. How was she ever to descend !?
That fear, then, but once crossed her
heart, as up, up, up to the little image
male of her own flesh and blood.
'sTLe God who holds me up now
from perishing-will not tue same
God save me when my child is at my
breast?"
Down came the fierce rushing OF
the eagles wings, each savage bird
dashing close to her head, so tina she
saw the yellow of their wrathful eyes.
All at once they quailed and were
cowed. Yelling, they flew off to the
stump Of an ash jutting out of the
cliff, thousand feet above the cata-
ract; and the Christian mother, fall
ing across the eyrie, in the midst of
bones and blood, clasped her child,
dead-dead, no doubt, but unnangled
and uniform, and swaddieG up just as
it was when she laid it down asleep
mong the fresh hay in nook of the
harvest field Oh! what thrill of
perfect besscdness transfxed her
heart from that faint, feeble cry: at
lives +! it lives p And barring her
bosom with loud laughter, and eyes
dry as stores, she felt the lips of the
unconscious innocent once more mur-
muring at the fount of life and love-
ooh! :hou great and dreadful God, |
whittier hast Thou brought me?"
Cliffs, chasms, blocks of stone, and
the skeletons of old trees, far, far
down, and dwindled into specls a
thousand creatures of her own kind,
stationary, or running 10 and fro
Was that the sound Of the waterfall,
or the faint roar of voices? Is that
her native strath? ard that tuft of
trees, does it contain the but in which
stands the cradle of her child? Never
more shall it be rocked by her foot
Here must she die, and her baby also.
And those horr.d beaks, and eyes,
and talons. and wings will return. and
her child will be devoured at last,
even within the dead arms that can
protect it no more
Where, all this while, was Mark
Stuart, the sailor? Half way up the
cliffs. But his eyes had got dim. and
his head dizzy, and his heart sick
and he who had often reefed the top.
gallant sail when at mcknight the
coming of the gale was heard afar.
covering his lace with his hands, and
dared look no longer on the swim
ming heights.
''And who will take care Of my
poor bedridden MOTHER thought
Hannah, who, through exhaustion
and SO many passions, could no more
retain in her grasp the hope she had
clutched in despair. a voice whis-
pered, 'Trust in Col" She looked
around expecting to see q spirit; but
nothing moved except a rotten branch
that, under its own weight, broke off I
from the crumhling rock. Her eye.
by some secret sympathy with inani-
mate objects. watched its fall and it
seemed 10 stop not Ear off on small
platform. Her child bounded upon
her shoulders, she knew not how or
when. but it was safe; and scarcely +,
daring 20 open her eyes, she slid down
the shelving rocks and found herself
on piece of firm, root-bound soil !.
with the tops of bushes appearing be- (
low
With fingers suddenly strengthened
into the power of iron, she swung
herself down by hrier and broom ant,
heather, and dwarf birch. Here a {
loosened stone leapt over hedge, :
and no sound was heard, so profound I
was its fall. There, the shingle rat ,
tied down the screes, and she hesito- ,
ted rot 10 follow. Her foot bounded ,
against the huge stones but she felt t
no pain. Steep as the wall Of house
was now the side of the precipice.
But it was matted with ivy centuries
old, long ago dead, and without a
single green leaf, but with thousands |
Of arm-thick stems petrified into the t
rock, and covering it as with trellis. l
She felt her baby on her neck, and I
with hands and feet clung to that