Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-10-15
The Peril Of Martha Warren.

Goodbye, Martha. God help YOU. I
shall be back in three days at the farthest p
The hardy White Mountain pioneer, Mark
Warren, kissed bis young wife, held his two
years-old boy TO his breast for a moment,
then shouldered his sack of corn that was
TO be converted into meal at the rude mill
four miles away, and trudged off through
the wilderness.
Martha Warren stood at the door of the
low cottage, gazing out after the retreating
form of her husband. An angle of the dense
shrubbery hid him from her view, but still
she did not return TO the solitary kitchen.
1t looked so dark and lonesome there she
shrank from entering, or perhaps the grand
sublimity of the view spread out before her
held her attention aud filled her soul with a
nameless, unexplained something that we all
see when standing thus face TO face with the
work of God.
The finest and most satisfactory view Of
the White Mountains is that which presents
itself from what is now the town of Bethle-
hem, on the road to Littleton and Franconia
Mount Washington, the king among princes,
is there seen in its proper place-the center
Of the rock-ribbed range-towering, bald,
blue and unapproachable.
Far up in wild clearing, close by the
turbid water of the Ammonoosuck, was the
cottage situated-a place wild and aerie
enough for the nest OF an eagle, but dear to
the heart of Martha Warren, as the home
where she spent the happy days of her young
wifehood. When she had turned from many
patrician suiter, in the fair old town Of
Portsmouth, to join her fortunes with those
OF the young settler, it was with the full
and perfect understanding OF the trials that
lay before her. She would walk in no path
of roses years to come much of her life
must be spent in the eternal solitudes. where
silence was broken only by the wild wind
OF the forest, the shrek of the river over the
sharp rocks, or the dismal howl of the sea-
mouthed wolf, afar in the wilderness.
The necessary absence of her husband she
dreaded most. 1t was so very gloomy to
close up her doors at night, and sit down by
her lonely fireside, with the consciousness
that there was no human being nearer to
her than the settlement of Lord.hill, ten
miles away through the painless woods.
There was little to fear from Indians, al
though few of the scattered tribes yet
roamed over these primeval hunting grounds.
They were mostly disposed To be friendly,
and Mrs. Warren's kind heart naturally
prompted her to many acts of friendship to-
ward them, and an Indian never forgets a
benefit.
The purple mist cleared away from the
SCARED forehead of the dominant old noun
tain, the yellow sun peeped over the rocky
wall, as Martha turned away to the per-
formance of her simple domestic duties.
The day was long one, but it wore toward
evening, and the cleaning comes much
sooner in these solitudes than in any other
place. The sunlight faded out of the un-
glazed windows, though it would illumine
the distant mountains for some time yet
and Martha went out into the scanty gar
den to inhale the odor of the sweet pinks on
the meager root she had brought from her
old home.
The spicy perfume carried her back in
memory to those days away in the past,
spent with kind friends and cheered by
bright young hopes. But though the thought
OF home and kindred made her sad, not for
a moment did she regret the fate she had
chosen. Absorbed in thought, she had not
observed the absence of Charlie, her little
boy now she saw with vague uneasiness
that he had left the bed of peppermint, where
he had been playing, and was not to be seen.
She called his name, but only the echo and
the roar of the sullen river replied. She
flew back to the house, the faint hope re-
naming that he might have returned thither
for his pet kitten but no, the kitten was
mewing at the window, but no sign of
Charlie.
With frantic haste she searched the clear
ing, but without success. Her next thought
was the river. Black as night, save where
1t was flecked with spots of white foam, it
flowed on but few rods before. She hur.
ried down to the brink calling out Char
lie Charlel"
The child's small voice at some little dis
tance replied. She followed the sound, and,
to her sorrow, saw her boy-his golden hair
and rosy cheeks clearly defined against the
purple twilight sky-standing on the very
edge of a huge, detached rock, some ten
feet from the shore, out in the sweeping
current of the river.
The rock, called by the settlers "The
Pulpit" was good situation for casting
fishing lines, and Mark Warren had bridged
the narrow chasm between il and the shore
with couple of hewn logs.
Allured by some clusters of flaming fire.
weed growing on the side of the pulpit,
Charlie had crossed over and now stood
there, regardless of danger, laughingly hold
ing out the floral treasures to his mother.
Martha flew over the frail bridge, and the
next moment held the child in her arms
Joyful because she had found him unin-
jured, and mentally resolving that the logs
should be removed to prevent further acci.
dent, she turned 10 retrace her steps, but the
sight that met her eyes froze her with horror
to the spot.
Confronting her ON the bridge, not six
feet distant, was an enormous wolf, gaunt
and bony with hunger, his eyes blazing like
live Goals through the mist and gloom, his
hot fetid breath scorching the very air she
breathed.
low growl of intense satisfaction stirred
the air, answered by the growl of fifty more
OF his kind belonging to the pack; in another
moment they would be upon her.
Without an instant's thought Of the conse.
quences, Martha obeyed her first impulse
and struck the log with her foot, exercising
all her mad strength in the blow. The frail
fabric trottered, the soft earth gave way,
there was a breath Of awful suspense, and
then the bridge went down with a dull
plunge into the waters beneath. The sharp
claws Of the wolf had already been fixed in
the scant vegetation of the rock, and he held
there a moment struggling with ferocious
strength 10 gain foothold the next he slid
down into the chasm, uttering wild howl
OF disappointment.
Martha sank on her knees and offered up
fervent prayer OF Thanksgiving for her es-
cape but simultaneously with her heartfelt
Amen" there came dreadful recollection
The bridge formed the only connection
between the pulpit aud the main land, and
that was severed. True, she was not more
than twenty feet distant from the shore of
the river, but she might as well have been
thousands of miles in the ocean. The water
was deep and it ran with almost inconceiy-
able rapidity, forty or fifty feet below her,
over rocks so Jagged and sharp that it made
her shiver to look over the brink.
Her only hope was In her husband Should
he return at the expected time they might
still be alive, but If by accident he should
be detained beyond tho time She closed
her eyes and besought God for protection
and help.
Cold and hungry, and drenched by the
mist of the river, Charlie began TO cry for