Year: 1871

beast upon the tree, but he "acted si


ly" and wild, and at last she lost sigh


of him forever. Then she and he


babe were left alone.


i The light which had burned for


few minutes in the deserted cabil


was quenched suddenly. She coul


not then tell whittier she was drifting


The outline Of the white dunes on tn
r peninsula showed dimly ahead, an
' she judged the tree was moving in
' line with the river. 1t must be slacl
: water, and she had probably reaches
/ the eddy formed by the confluence o
the tide and the Overflowing waters o
: the river. Unless the tide fell sOOI
2 there was present danger of her drift
: ing to its channel, and being carrie,
) out to sea or crushed in the floating
/ drifts. That peril averted, if she wer,


carried out on the ebb toward the bay
[ she might hope to strike one of thG
/ wooded prOmontOries of the peninsu-
: la, and rest till daylight. Sometime:
! she thought she heard voices anC
shouts from the river, and the below
= ing of cattle and bleating of sheep
Then again it was only the ringing il
her ears and thrObbing of her heart
She found at about this time that shG


was so chilled and stiffened in hel
cramped position that she could


scarcely move and the baby cried Sc


when she put it to her breast that she


noticed the milk refused to flow; and
| she was so frightened at that, that she


put her head under her shawl, and for


the first time cried bitterly.


When she raised her head again the
boom of the surf was behind her, and


she knew that her ark had again


swung round. She dipped up the


water to cool her parched throat, and


found that it was as salt as her tears.


There was a relief, though, for by this


sign she knew that she was drifting


with the tide. 1t was then the wind


went down, and the great and awful
silence oppressed her. There was


scarcely ripple against the furrOwed


sides of the great trunk on which she


rested, and around ler was all black
gloom and quiet. She spoke to the
/ baby, Just to hear herself speak, and


to know that she had not lost her


voice. She thought then-it was
/ queer, but she could not help thinking
! it-how awful must have been the
| night when the great shipswung over
the Asiatic peak, and the sounds of
| creation were blOtted out from the


world.


She thought of mariners clinging to
spars, and of men who were lashed to
RATS and beaten to death by the cruel
sea. She tried to thank God that she


was thus spared, and lifted her eyes
from the babe, who had fallen into a
fretful sleep. Suddenly away to the
southwark, a great light lifted out of
the gloom, and flashed and fiic kered,


and fiickered and flashed again. Her
heart huttered quickly against her


baby's cold cheek. 1t was the light


house at the entrance of the bay. AS
she was yet wondering, the tree sud-
denly rolled little, dragged a little,
and then seemed TO lie quiet and still.
She put out her hand and the current
gurgled against it. The tree was
aground, and, by the position of the
light and the noise of the surf, aground
upon the Dedlow Marsh.


Had it not been for her baby, who
was ailing and crOupy; had it not
been for the sudden drying up of that
sensitive fountain, she would have
felt safe and relieved. Perhaps it was
this which tended to make all her
impressions mOurntul and gloomy.
As the tide rapidly fell, a great flock of
black brent fiuttered by her screaming
and crying. The plOver flew up and
piped mOurnfully as they wheeled
around the trunk, and at last fearless
ly lit upon it like grey cloud. Then
the heron flew over and around her,
shrieking and protesting, and at last
dropped its gaunt legs only a few
yards away from her. But, strangest
of all, pretty white bird larger than
a dove -circled around and around
her. At last it lit upon the rootlet of
a tree, quite over her shoulder. She
put out her hand and stroked its
beautiful white neck, and it never ap-
peared to move. 1t stayed there so
long that she thought she would lift
up the baby to see it, and try TO at
tract her attention. But when she did
so, the child was so chilled and cold,
and had such a blue look upon the lit
tie lashes, which it didn't raise at all,
that she screamed aloud, and the bird
few way, and she tainted.


Well, that was the worst of it, and
perhaps it was not so much after all,
10 any one but herself For when she
recovered her senses it was bright sun
light, and dead low water. There was
a confused noise of gutteral voices
about her, and an old squaw, singing
an Indian "hushaby," and rocking
her from side to side before a fire built
on the marsh, before which she, the
recovered wife and mother, lay weak
and weary. Her first thought was for
the baby, and she was about to speak,
when a young squaw, who must have
been a mother herself, fathOmed her
thoughts and brought her the "mO-
witch, ,"lpale but living, in such a queer
little willow cradle, all bound up Just
like the squaw's own young one, that
she laughed and cried together, and
the young and the old squaw showed
their teeth and glinted their black
eyes and said "Plenty yet well, skeena
mOwitch; waggee man come plenty
sOOn," said she could have kissed
their brown faces in her JOY. And
then she found that they had been
gathering berries on the marsh in
their queer cOmical baskets, and saw
the skirt of her gown flutteTing on the
tree from afar, and the old squaw
couldn't resist the temptation of pro-
curing a new garment, and came down
and discovered the "waggee" woman
and child. And of course she gave
the garment to the old squaw, as you
may imagine, and when he came at
last and rushed up to her, looking
about ten years older in his anxiety,
she felt so weak again that they had
to carry her to the canoe. For, you
see, he knew nothing about the flood
until he met the Indians at Eutopia,
and knew by the signs that the poor
woman was his wife.


And at the next high tide he towed
the tree away back home, although it
wasn't worth the trouble, and built
another house using the old tree for the
foundation and props, and called it
after her, 'Mary's Ark ~ But you
may guess the next house was built
above high water mark. And that's
all.


Not much, perhaps, considering the
male golent cap9 city ofDedlow Marsh. (
But you may tramp over it at low
water, or paddle over it at high tide, /
or get lost upon it once or twice in the I.
fog, as have, to understand properly I
Mary's adventure, or to appreciate {
duly the blessings of living beyond I.
high water mark.


The Best Evidence.


A certain bacSywOods preacher,
years ago, was before the conference !
committee for examination. He was
not a book man nor a theOlogian, in 1
the technical sense of that term, but /.
he knew salvation as God teaches it to Z
loving and believing hearts.


Brother" said one of the gentle 4
men of the cOmmitte, twill you please [
name some of the evidences of the di- I
vinity of our Lord Jesus Christ?'


The Bushwhacker preacher looked a I
little vacant.


"What makes you think Christ was
divine ~ again asked the committee |
man.


The plain man reused himself. /


"HOw do l know He is divine -
"a ii hn ETfg ovv.a1 ~ nnRa fl1ad rr-ffI, Q