Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1886-12-11

had never occurred to than that some one
else might love her that she had come
. to an age at which she might be wooed
and won.
1t was the old story. Her Prince
| Charming had come. and before he left il
was arranged that he should return in a
month and take father. mother and daugh-
| ter back with him to Boston, which the
elders had not S, en- for twenty years. As
for the daughter, she had never been ten
miles away from her wildwood home.
Weathering6eld was more than we'll
TODD. His father had died and left him
his heir So it was agreed that house
should be taken, and they should live in
the city during the coming winter. In the
spring the young Captain should have his
| answer.
Needless TO say what it was. The win
ter passed; spring came, and bride, halt
smiles. half tears-a bride whose beauty
had driven the youth of Boston to distrac-
ton, but who had been true to her sailor
loyer-left her mothers arms TO go on ship
board. for her wedding journey was to be a
voyage to England.
$50 soon as she had gone the father and
mother sadly returned to the home they
had planted in the wilderness, feeling that
the light of that home had vanished.
ne uldfN vi 1hI6 w
The greetings to Mr.. and Mrs. Wilson at
the house by the landing they had win
tered on the hill but were now returned to
their own dwelling), our reception by our
faithful Jane, after SO long absence, being
over, and the supper which had been pre-
pared for us eaten, my dearest husband
came and sat beside me, taking my hand in
his. He did not speak; nor did l. Our
hearts were full. We may have sat thus
for two hours, silent. when he said, softly
Martha, the sweet fruit God gave to our
love, thy child and mine, is but gone for a
season. From other parents who, per-
chance, have loved their children as we
love our darling, He, in His inscrutable
wisdom, has snatched their treasure to
place it in the tomb. Let us not grieve
then, but rejoice and pray TO His throne
that He may grant us to see her again in
good health and happiness. He who has
made my days so pleasant by thy dear
love, thy sweet presence ana converse, is a
loving God and merciful.'
AT his gentle words I could no longer
contain myself, but cast myself upon his
bosom and wept in passion of tears such
as | never felt before, not even when my
child left me. But he, who is always SO
gentle, did not reprove me, although ii is
against our customary, against decorum.
He soothed me, and, when my sobbing
was Gained, kissed me tender and said
Martha, God has been indeed good to me,
but has given me great charge in the care
of so sweet and loving heart. l pray
have not failed too grossly in my keeping.
A. this could have again wept. but, kiss
in him, retired to my chamber
Months passed before any word came
from Priscilla. Letters from beyond the
sea were rare and precious in those days.
ITO their surprise hardly fortnight at
ter the receipt of the first there came an
other epistle, this time dated from Boston
and sent by express across the country by
a friendly Indian. II was directed to the
mother, and bore the word Confidential
underscored in the corner. The contents
brought both Joy and dread to the tender
heart. Her child was in turn about to be-
come mother In this, her first trouble,
the young wife instinctively turned to her.
90 must be with thee, she wrote.
1t was little after the middle of Octo-
Der, but the winter had, that year, come
early. The rivers were frozen, and the
snow lay deep as if it were December. If
the hard frost held, travel would be COM
paratively easy. The Indian was ques-
toned closely, for both Mr.. and Mrs.
Weatheringfeld knew not only many
words of the tongue of the surrounding
tribe. but were entirely familiar with that
strange sign-language by which all Amer
lean Indians however different their
speech, can converse.
The journey could be made in sledges
in six DAYS. He had come on foot in three.
The snow had fallen wet, and was now
crusted hard enough to bear. The Indian,
who belonged to one of the tribes Of the
Six Nations, was an old acquaintance, and
the fond mother told him who ii was who
was coming. The savage had seen Priscilla
but, yelled and differently dressed from OF
old, had not known her. The Weathering-
fields had always been kind to him just
and humane to all his people. He thought
for moment, and then said
- Write | had intended to have gone
beyond the hills toward the setting sun to
the cabins of my people. | will turn and
90 back to the sea. The sledges must not
start! The red warriors have painted their
faces and now move in the sacred war
dance. Before the sun rises three times,
in the middle of the night before the day
on which the white man does not work, a
circle of fire will encompass the CITY by
the sea. Every farm house and every vii
lage will be given to the flames. None
are to be spared. Men and women. babes
and those with the long white hair, all
must die Write Your daughter must
not start. In less than two days / shall be
in the city Write and place on the out
side he words by which the house of the
white man is found
1.-THE letter was written, and the Indian
started on his return. Weatheringtield
would have gone with him but the savage
said No. The trails are many and wide
apart. If they have started we may not
meet. Stay call your people up from the
valley, and guard your house He was
gone.
Then came anxious days. The letter
said the daughter so lonPed for the mother
that her husband had, unwillingly, assented
to the Journey overland. Had, with sailor
ingenuity, prepared a sledge with a high
arched cover Of sail cloth, in which she
could either sit up or lie upon a mattress.
1t is house that moves, wrote the admir-
ing wife. -Four sailors, armed with guns
and pistols, were to go as escort and take
back the horses. We start, sweet mother,
before this can reach you, but do not ex-
pect our coming for five, or, perchance, six
days thereafter
"A week passed. No news. Some one
of the household remain ed constantly on
the watch, that there might not be mo-
ments delay in the opening of the gates.
Another week began, dragged slowly to
its close, and then a passing Indian, sullen
but not actively hostile, told the watchers
that, although the great rising had not
taken place, yet wanderings bands had slain
many whites Farm houses had been
burned and every pale-face taken had been
killed without pity.
1t was now November. Day after day
went by. The wretcned mother scarcely
dared look into her husbands face for fear
OF seeing there what would confirm her
own despair.
Another week, another, and then an
other passed. The daily routine of the
house went on, but in solemn silence.
And now the morrow was the day pro-
claimed in which to keep the annual feast
of Thanksgiving. Some word was spoken
oft
90 Martha, said her husband, let any
thing you would have set forth on that day
be prepared. The Lord gave; perchance,
in His all-wisdom, our finite nature cannot
understand He has taken away. Shall
Ua not still say Blessed he the name of