Year: 1869

"Good-bye, Martha. God help you


1 shall be back in three days at the
farthest."


The hardy White Mountain pioneer,


Mark Warren, kissed his young wife,


held his two year old boy to his breast


for moment, and then shouldering the
sack of corn that was to be converted


into meal at the rude mill, forty miles


away, trudged on through the wilder


ness.


Martha Warren stood at the door of


the cottage, gazing out after the retreat


ing form of her husband. An angle in


the dense shrubbery hid him from her


view, but still she did not return to the
solitary kitchen, it looked so dark and


lonesome there, she shrank from enter.


ing; or perhaps the grand sublimity of
the view spread out before her, held her
attention and thrilled her soul with that
nameless, unexpected something that


we all see when standing face to face


with the work Of His fingers.


The finest and most satisfactory view
of the White Mountains is that which
presents itself from what is now the
town of Bethlehem, on the road to
Littlcton and Franconia. Mount Wash
ington, the King among the princes, is
there seen in its proper piace-the
centre of the "rock ribbed" range,
towering bald, bhle and unapproacha.
BILE.


Far up in the wild clearing, close by
the turbid waters of the Ammonoosuc,
was the cottage situated--a place wild
and icrie enough for the nest of an eagle,
but dear to the heart of Martha Warren
as the home where she had spent the
happy days of her young wifehood.-
When she had turned from many a
partrician suitor in the fair old town Of
Portsmouth, to join her fortunes with
those ofthe 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 for years
to come; much of life must be spent in
the eternal solitudes where silence was
brokan only by the wild winds of the
forest, the shIiek of the river over
the sharp rocks, or the dismal howl of
the red mouthed wolf afar in the wider.
ness.


The necessary absence of her hus.
band she dreaded most. 1t was so very
81 oomy to close up her lonely fireside
with the consciousness that there was
no human being nearer than the settle
ment of Lords Hill, ten miles away
through the painless woods.


There was little to fear from the In
dians, although few of the scattered
tribes yet roamed over these primeval
hunting grounds. They were mostly
disposed to be friendly, and Mrs. War
ren's kindheart naturally prompted her
to many acts soffriendship toward them,
and an Indian never forgets kind
ness.


The purple mist cleared away from
The scared forehead of the dominant
Did mountain; the yellow sun peeped
over the rocky wall, and Martha turned
away to the performance of her simple
domestic duties. The day was long
one, but 1T was towards evening, and
The cleaning comes much sooner in |
.hese solitudes than in any other place.
The sunlight faded out of the unglazed |
though it would illumine the |
listant mountains for some time yet /; |
md Martha went out in the scanty gar
len to inhale the odor of the sweet
)inks on the meagre root she had |
brought from her old home.


The spicy perfume carried her back
n memory to those days away in the
,ast, spent with kind friends,a and cheer
ID with bright young hopes. But though
he thought of home and kindred made
Ter sad, not for moment did she re-
,ent the fate she had chosen. Absorbed
n thought she had not noticed the adj
ence of Charlie, her little boy now
he saw with vague uneasiness that he
iad left the bed of peppermint where
le had been playing, and was not to be
een. She called his name, but only
.chO and the swollen river replied.
She flew back to the house, the faint
rope remaining that he might have re-
urned thither for his pet kitten; but
10, the kitten was mewing at the win
low, but no sigus of Charlie.


With frantic haste she searched the
clearing, but without success. Her
next thought was the river! Black as
he night, save where it was hecked
with spots of white foam-it flowed on
but few yards before her. She hurri-
I'd down the bank, calling, "Charlie,
Charlie"


The child's voice at some little dis
lance replied. She followed the sound,
md to her sorrow saw the boy-his
golden hair and rosy face clearly defined
against the purple twilight sky-stand-
ing on the very edge of the huge, de-
tachod rock, sUme ten feet from the
shore, out in the sweeping current of the |
river!


This rock, called by the settlers "The |
Pulpit" was good situation for cast !