Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1891-10-10

for such as she the hatchet of his people
had no edge. But for himself he was
going to the happy hunting ground and
it was while chanting his death song that
he saw the fair wild daughter of the
pale face disappear in the shadowy
woods.
. was high noon when a band Of
settlers came upon the desolatcd cabin,
and finding blood and death around it
and within, they questioned the dying
Huron who lay without the door.
young squaw gone, he said. "Old
man fight hard; he great brave he kill
many Huron, but Huron take lodge, Kill
old man. Two warrior get in but no
come out"
Two warriors, surely enough. lay dead
in the house, and the brave old man be-
tween them. The settlers saw the body
of the slain watchdog; they counted l3
dead Indians outside the cabin: so 10
had been killed outright, and the 10Th
was even now breathing his last. They
saw the bullet hole in the roof, the pow
der stain upon the rafters, blue and
sulphurous; and without, upon the cave,
were traces of blood where the dead war
iior had slid heavily down. The door had
been hacked, unavailingly, it would seem,
with tomahawks; but had finally yielded
to a primitive engine of red men-a
straight and green pine.
1t was from the wounded Indian that
the settlers learned most of the particu-
lars which | have given relative to the
old mans defence, as, for instance that
he had thrown away but four shots
At sunset the red warrior died He and
his companions were hastily buried in a
trench but upon the day following a sor.
rowful group of pioneers laid the two old
people side by side upon pleasant knob
where the October grass was just dying
beneath the frost. In quest of the hapless
girl who had fled, perhaps frenzied, from
the scene of death, the settlers secured
the woods in vain.
1t was supposed that the sweet daugh-
ter of Erin had fallen a victim to wild
beasts or prowling savages; but years
later her story became known. A band
of Huron warriors had found her in the
forest, and respecting her calm and
melancholy delirium in which they
recognized the hand of the Great Spirit,
took her with them to Montreal The
Marquis de Montcalm, learning her name
and history from captain taken nearly
at the same time, became greatly inter-
eSted in the unfortunate and beautiful
child. He employed in her behalf the
ablest medical talent at command; and
this, together with the healthful elastic
lty of her system, restored reason to the
disordered brain. The scenes through
which she had passed unfolded them
selves little by little to her view, till she
remembered all. She related how in the
cabin she had awakened to consciousness
ere the fight was ended, and the further
incidents of the desperate conflict that
led to her grandfathers death.
My child" said Montcalm, struck
with anguish at the young girls terrible
grief for her poor old grandparents,
nothing that | can now say will much
comfort you; but of this rest assured,
you shall never want a protector. | owe
your family much. 1 learn from the
prisoner yonder that you are descended
from that Colonel OMoore who lost his
own life in saving that of French Off
Ger in the Irish army at the battle of
Aghrim. That officer was my grandsire,
the Count de st. Vcron. By singular
coincidcnt your father, Brian O'MOore,
81 years later, saved the life of another
French officer, at the great victory of
Fontenoy, sacrificing, like his ancestor,
Il Mot OH
myself. | subsequently, lost all trace Of
your family, which, though then in
poverty, | was aware had descended
from the ancient nobility of Ireland. In
your behalf it may be vouchsafed a
French marquis to discharge in some in
considerable measure the debt he owes to
your gallant race. l will be a father to
you and though l can not restore the
lost, all that wealth, and love, and
sympathetic sorrow can give shall be
yours.
A tear rose to the blue eyes of the mar
quis, and Mary felt irresistibly attracted
toward the great French captain.
From that hour he was her hero, her
demigod nor was he unworthy of her
utmost admiration and confidence. AT
Quebec she heard with joy of his brilliant
victory at Isle de MontmOrencie, little
dreaming that it was the last CLEAN in
the bright day of his military triumphs.
Upon the plains of Abraham the sun of
his glory set.
In France Mary Moore-for the sorrow
of her story, her beautiful Celtic face,
and the melancholy that shadowed her
young spirit-became the pet of the Gal
lie nobility, between whom and the
Catholic Irish there had long existed
bond of sympathy, cemented by their
common hatred of the islanders of Albion.
The seven years war ended in 1863, and a
year later, at the age of II, Mary was
married to young officer of 10, who %
years later was known through all the
civilized world as the famous republican
commander, Dumourier. 1t was love
match, at once romantic and happy. The
daughter of Erin lived to rejoice over
her husbands victories, but not to wit
ness his unhappy defeat at Neer-Windem.
Sacred to her heart was her childhood's
love for dear Grandmother Moore; and
many tear she shed in the foreign land
over the recollection of the night attack.
beware the Red Sock.