Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1909-10-29

sleeping child firmly, ran as fast as the
tangled underbrush and fallen trees
across her path would permit her, to-
wards the welcome voice. She shouted
back. but her small voice would never be
heard she only walked the little child
and must now stop and hush It. Then
she started on again. Hark! the sound
of horn. but in entirely another drec-
ton. Turning her course she ran breath
less towards It. And now she thought
she heard It again farther off. Many
hours of the night were spert in rushing,
with hysteric sobs and palpitating heart,
towards the voices of her friends. So
near that she could hear them, but so
far away that no effort of frenzied
strength could enable her to reach their
protecting presence. What a sight It was
Towards morning she slept, leaning
against tree with the baby on her
bosom. But she started nervously in her
dreams and at the first bird-song awoke
to full consciousness. with the daybreak
came a renewal of her courage. She
would not weakly give up to die. Her
friends would certainly find her today or
she would find them. She saw near her
some last years berries and tough leaves
of the wintergreen. And here were
acorns. poor breakfast, but she ate
whatever she could find, for the sake
of the child more than her own. This day
also she ran wildly through the tangle of
from the decay of centuries over gulies
and Jagged rocks, past rude branches
that caught at her dress and rent 1t, I'M
til she came to the dying embers of fire.
Here she fingered long Her friends had
been here; perhaps Robert kindled this
fire with his own hands and for her.
Hank again! The search has commenced
this morning. Echoing through the
woods comes the prolonged shrek of
dinner horn. She calls with all the des-
peration of one drowning; she rushes
forward But the ground is rough, and
alas how heavy the baby grows! She is
giddy with loss of sleep and want of food.
The baby means and will not be COM
forted. In this way passes the day and
another dreadful night She finds an
other fire, she stays by it and keeps it
burning all night for she is afraid of
wolves. Another morning and she is not
hopeful She has no nourishment for her
child. o, will not heaven pity her! Have
the sweet April skies become brass to
shut out her cries for help! Has gracious
God forgotten to be gracious? The little
one grows weaker, he cannot hold up his
head. Another terrible night he cries
pteously, he falls into commissions; the
next day he dies All day she carries the
little lifeless body in her arms, and all
the night beneath the far-off stars, she
holds 1t to her BOSOM Poor woman! We
do not know what lesson was meant to
her by the good Father. But perhaps
she has known long since, perhaps at
this very moment she thanks and adores
Him for that great and sore distress, of
which we cannot even hear at this far
remove of time, without a heartache.
She carried the little dead burden day
after day. until the purple hue of decay
was settling rapidly over it, and she
felt with a pang at her heart, that she
must bury it. Then she looked about
60 ,ry1,o ha fuhf Ito ha
grave so deep that the wild cat and the
wolf should not scent it out. Weak as
she was this was no easy task, but in
her wanderings she came upon a giant
tree, uptorn at some former time by a
hurricane. In the soft earth where the
roots had lain, she scooped the babys
resting place, and making it soft with
moss covered the cold little form for
ever from her sight. Then she sat down
by the grave in a stupor of grief. Hour
after hour passed, how long a time she
knew not, when she arose to her feet to
commence again the dreadful pilgrimage.
Then she noted everything about the
spot Here was a large rock there stoops
an immense hemlock. Yes, she would
know the place. She could find 1t again
with Robert Then began again the
struggle through the wilderness. Day
after day, week after week, she pressed
on Her shoes were worn to fragments
and fell from her feet. Her garments
were torn to tatters. But the days grew
warmer, and the fever that was burning
in her veins made even the soft showers
that fell upon her welcome. First she
ate the buds of trees and the bark of the
| black birch. Presently she began to find
| young checkerberry leaves and now and
| then she came upon partridge's nest
| and greedily sucked the eggs,
After time there were red raspberries
and black thimbleberries in the woods,
| and then she knew 1t was July. The
| trees had now put on afresh their beauti-
| full garments But for the delicious
poetry one finds IN the woods, saunter-
| ing out from busy life for an hour, she
| cared nothing. She saw nothing but
| trees, trees, trees, in interminable sue
| cession, in bewildering sameness 1t
| seemed years, yes ages ago, that she
| swept the hearth with a birch broom
and sung the baby to sleep in Roberts
cabin. Her mind grew bewildered, still
i she went on, on, on. When she came
| to a large stream she went up towards
| it's source until she could wade across it.
| So she said; and she affirmed that she
| never crossed any stream wider than a
| brook. She paid no attention to sun or
| moon as guide or indication of points of
the compass, but she must have taken
| a northwesterly and then a northeasterly
course. There was Black river, Mill
| river, Waterqueechy, White, Waits,
| wells, nOWlng INTO the connecticut from
the Vermont side, but she constantly as
serted that she saw none of them.
Through July and August there were
berries of various kinds, and by means
of these she sustained what little life was
left to her. And now the naples began
to take on the gorgeous crimson and the
silver birches to wear the pale gold of
September; the birds were leaving the
forest Still she went on, on, on. Oc-
casionally she had glimpses of brindled
fur among the branches, or black bear
turned out of her path. afraid of the
human form; but no human being did she
ever meet and long, long before human
voices had ceased to call her name. Was
she all alone on the earth, and was the
earth but one vast wilderness without
outlet, without clearing or settlement
Had God taken away all life but that OF
brutes, and forgotten her, or ordained
her to wander forever? Tramping. tramp
ing, tramping, with feet bleeding and
cracked at first and afterward calloused
naked, or nearly so, knowing nothing OF
1 time or place, she was fast becoming
idiotic. When she was hungry she
sought for food but the great idea linger-
ing in her mind was that of pressing on
Since the luxuriance of summer had fill
ed the forest with ferns and new growth
of briar and underbrush, there was more
difficulty in passing through. But she
had become accustomed to the rough