Year: 1865

to cry. Hark That was certainly hu-
man shout. She rose, and holding her
sleeping child firmly, ran as fast as the
underground would let her, towards the
welcome voice. She shouted back, but
her small voice would Lever 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
in entirely another direction. Turning
her course she ran breathless towards it.
And now she thought she heard it again,
further off. Many hours of the night
were spent in rushing, with palpitating
heart, towards the voicer of her friends.
So near that she could hear them, but so
far rway that no effort of frenzied strength
could enable her to reach their protecting
presence. What a night it was To-
wards morning she slept, leaning against
a tree with baby on her bosom. But
she started nervously in her deans and
at the first bird-song woke to full con-
sciousness. With the daybreak came a
renewal of her courage. She would not
weakly give up to die. Her friends would
certainly find her to-day, or she would
find them. She saw near her some Of the
last years berries and tough leaves of the
wintergreen, And here were acorns. A
poor breakfast, but she ate whatever she
could find, for the sake of the child more
than for her OWN. This day also she ran
wildly through the taDgle of deak brakes
and briers growing rank from the decay of
centuries over gulies and Jagged rocks,
past rude branches that caught at her
dress and rent it. till she came to the dy-
ing embers of fire. Here she fingered
long Her friends had been here; per-
haps with his own hands, and for her.
Hark again The search has commenced
this morning. Echoing through the
woods comes the prolonged shriek of a
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 comfort.
ed. In this way passes the day and an.
other night She finds another fire, she
stays by it and keeps it burning through
the night,for she is afraid of wolves An.
other morning and she is not hopeful
She has no nourishment for the child.
will not Heaven pity her Have the
sweet April skies become brass to shut out
her cries for help! Has God forgotten to
be gracious? The little Que has grown
weaker. he cannot hold up his head. An.
other terrible night; he means piteously





he falls into convulsions the next day
he dies, All day she carries the little
lifeless body in her arms, and all the
night. beneath the far-off Implying stars
she holds it 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 Hin
for that great and sore distress, of which
we cannot hear at this time without q
heart-ache


! She carried the little dead burden
day after day, until the purple hue Of de-
cay was setting rapidly over il, and she
felt with a pang at her heart. that she
must bury it. Then she looked about
for spot where she might dig the grave
so deep that the wild cat and the vol
should not scent it out. Weak as
she was, this was no easy task
but in her wanderings she came up
on giant tree, uptorn at some former
time by hurricape. In the soft earth
where the roots had lain. she scoopcd the
baby's resting place, and making it soft
with moss. covered the cold little form
forever from her sight Then she sal
down by the grave in stupor of grief
Hour after hour passed, how long tint
she knew not, when she rose to her feet tc
commence again the dreadful pilgrimage
Then she noted everything about the spot
Here was rock. there stood an immen ;,
hemlock. Yes. she would know the place
She could easily find il with Robert


Then began again the struggle through
the wilderness. Day after day, week af