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Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, December 12, 1856, Image 1

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3NT o "REoro Oompromiso -cc"- t la Slnvory.
Xitcratii Selections.
. Drop, drop, drop drip, drip, drip
a hopelessly, helplessly wet afternoon,
all that July day one unbroken unmottled
sweep of cloud had stretched across the
sky. You might have painted the land
scape with chalk and ashes. Qver rich
pasture and sluggish canal, over the
Zuyder Zee and the German Ocean, the
same dull wearisome, unvaried shadow ;
for our scene lies in Holland, and it opens
in the little village of Muiden, a league
from Amsterdam, and on the borders of
the great inland sea.
AYhen the sun comes out again, its
long street of low white houses, with their
formal garden plots, and still more formal
trees, will look pretty enough. Now the
same dull rain confuses all ; the place
seems deserted ; a boy may occasionally
cross the road on some errand, a drench
ed fowl may occasionally be seen in the
lane that runs down to yonder white
farm ; and then they retire, and then
leave the claee to its destination. That
high bank to the north, which shuts out
all view of the Zuyder Zee, is the great
dyke, on the strength of which depends
the verv esJstance of the surroundim?
j - 0
country. It is towards that I am going
to take you ; for our business lies at the
cottage yonder which nestles at its foot, j
close to the enormous sluice gates that
commands the tides.
A neat little place it is, to be sure;
like the rest, low and whitewashed, save
that there is a broad, yellow band of paint
round the windows. The walk throagh
the garden is paved with brick, now slip
pery and shining with wet ; the garden
itself is laid out in square or star-shaped,
or octagonal beds, neatly trimmed with
box ; there is a yew tree on each side of
the outer gate, the one bearing the form
of a lion rampart, the other intended to
represent a peacock with spread tail, and
in, the green moat that surrounds the
whole, good Gerard van Kampen for
that is the name of the owner had
erected one. of those buildings, half ship,
half summer house, where Dutchmen are
wont to enjoy their pipes till sunset and
then leave the apartment to the possess
ion of frogs and typhui. A well to do
man is master Gerard, keeper of the
sluice gates, near which he lives, and
owner of five acres of the best land in
the Sticht. How the whole country as
we go in, seems choked with water !
ditches overbrimming, furrows turned
intocurrentless rivulets, every horse-hoof
or pattern mark in the road proving the
saturation of the earth. It is enough to
remind one of Butler's verse :
"Ther &Iway p v the pump, and never thinl
They can be safe but at the rate they sini ;
They ii vo as if the' had beeu run aground,
And when tUeydie are castaway aud drowu'd.
A lund that ridea at anchor, and is moor'd.
In which men do not lite but go abroad."
Let us go in and see what the interior
f the cottage can show us.
A comfortable lttle kitchen indeed ;
the fire just sufficient to make the great
pot that hangs over it simmer ; the fire
place lined with blue and white tiles, in
tended to represent Scripture history, as
indeed after a sort they do. There is
Isaac bound and lying upon the altar,
" while Abraham levels athiui a monstrous
-blunderbuss, into the pan of which the
, angel is about to empty a jug of water.
There is the judgment of Solomon the
king is attired in a full bottomed wig
while the officer wears the habit of the
Amsterdam bungher guard. There is
the marriage of Tobit, celebrated by a
gentleman iu ruff and bands. . As to the
dresser, its pewter dishes glitters like sil
ver ; the red tiles of the floor look as if
it were an impossibility that a speck of
dirt should ever have fallen on them,
while the great black oak table, with its
urious carved legs, shines with a bright
ness that suggests hours and years of pa-
tient. rubbing, and generations of deceased
house-maids. There are one or two en
gravings, such as they are : the burgo
master of Leyden offering his body for
the food of the enraged and famishing
. multitude, but declaring that he had sworn
not to surrender the town to the Span
iards, and that by God's grace he would
keep his oath ; the murder of William
-of Orange, by Belthazer Geraarts ; and
portrait of the then Stadtholder, after
wards William III, of England.
But it is too bad to have been so lon
in describing the room, and as yet to have
said nothing of its young mistress, who is
working by the fire side. Elsie van
Kampen is the old Waterwarden's only
"child ; her mother died at her birth; and
ehe'has indeed been a sunbeam in that
"litUe hou?e. Rather tall with Iter fair
brow, st fair compfexion, aud blue eyes
of her country, there is a brightness in
her eye, and an archness in her smile,
which saves her from the besetting fault
of the beauties of Holland, tameness and
insipidity. But now her face is rather
sad, and well it may be. Her lot is
thrown in very troublesome times ; dis
tress and danger are gathering round
her ; three-fourths of Holland are in the
hands of the enemy, and two or three
days at fartheest may send the tide of
war into Muiden itself. There is a step
on the garden walk ; she starts up and
the door opens a tall, strong built
man enters, throws off his dripping cloak"
and folds her in his arms.
" Well, father ?"
" It is too true," is the reply. "The
French are in full advance on Naarden
They say the place cannot hold out a
day, and then it is our turn."
" And what do you mean to do ?"
" I stay here, French or no French.
It shall never be said that old Gerard
van Kempen left his post without orders.
But you must to Amsterdam, and that
by to-morrow at latest."
" But, father, I cannot leave you here
I will not, indeed. If it is your duty to
stay by the sluices, it is mine to stay with
" You must not think of it, Elsie. The
French soldiers are devils in human
form. I have heard of doings of theirs
at Woerden, which makes one's blood
run cold. Go you must, and that by
daylight to-morrow; and I shall step out
and hold council with the rest how we
may best send the women there, by land
or by sea. By noon to-morrow there
must be nothing but men in the place."
I must stop a moment to explain as
briefly as may be how affairs then stood
in Holland. Louis XIV., claiming the
United Provinces in right of his wife, as
a portion of the Spanish monarchy,
poured an army of 170,000 men, under
Conde, Turenne, and Luxemburg, from
the southeast, Guelderland, Ove'ryssel.
and the Provence of Utrecht were over
run. The city of Utrecht opened its gates.
Town after town, fortress after fortress
was captured. Scarcely an hour but
brought intelligence to Louis, then keep
ing his court in a villa in the pleasant
village of Ducbergen, of some new con
quest. 111s any, our Charles U- was
straining an exhausted exchequer to
equip a fleet capable of matching that of
De Ruyter : and the terms if terms
they can be called which were proposed
to the Dutch, almost involved their anni
hilation as a separate people. William
of Orange had an army such as it was,
of 70,000 men, but the greater part had
never been under fire, and the whole
were demoralized by surrender upon sur
render, and retreat after retreat The
allies attempted to bribe him to desert
the cause of his country, by offering him
the independent crown of the province of
Holland. " You cannot-hope," said they.
" otherwise to escape seeing the ruin of
the United Provinces." " That," he re-S
plied, " lies in my own hands ; I shall
die in the last ditch before that ruiu
Grieved, terrified, perplexed, Gerard
was-a true Hollander in one respect;
he never lost his appetite. Little taste
had poor Elsie for her supper that eve
ning; but her father, seating himself with
great deliberation at the table, and forti
fying himself by his accustomed dram,
commenced a fearful attack on the good
brown bread and well cured bacon which
adorned it, cutting slice after slice of
both one and the other, replenishing his
tankard more than once, and concluding
his repast with a still vigorous assault on
the Purmerend cheese.
"Come, Elsie," he said, "j-ou must
keep up your spirits, and be glad that we
have a refuge so near at hand. How
long Amsterdam itself will be safe, God
only knows; but it is safe at least as yet ;
your good aunt will be glad to give you
a home, I know, till I find lodging for
us both there."
"It is you I am thinking of, father.
If those terrible French come here
what will becofae of you ?"
" I shall be safe enough, child ; I'll
warrant, you that I have taken care of
myself before. When they are fairly on
the road from Naarden, I shall be off on
that to Amsterdam ; but there are rea
sons why, till that, my post is here. Get
what things you want together, and re
member that you will most likely never
see again what you left behind. I dare
say I shall be out for a couple of hours.1
Now at the same time, and not so very
fa!" ffm 1 , 1 vr .... 1 ., .1
m vijr pate, mere was one
who was thinking oh, how fondly and
anxiously -of Elsie. And good right
had Egbert Yandenvelde to let his
thoughts wander to the cottage that lay
at the dyke side, and the fireplace with
its Scriptural tiles and the dear mistress
of both. For was she not his own af
fianced bride ? And, when peace should
be made, was he not to bring her back to
his snug little farm "near Weesp, to be
the sunshine there that she had been in
the cottage of her birth ? There had been
heavy firing all day from the Northeast;
night had closed in ; but still the roar
and flash of the French canon startled
the darkness. ... It was understood that
Naarden was at the last extremity ; all
day long the road to Amsterdam had
been thronged with flyers ; and now,
close under the huge church of St. Law
rence, some of the bravest hearts in the
little town were assembled, and held
anxious debate as to the possibility of any
defence. Egbert Vandenvelde was among
tuem. A lie nigut nad cleared. It was
chilly after the rain, and a fire hastily
kindled in the market-place, threw fan
tastic shadows on the tall brick tower of
the church, and the stepped gables, aud
the quaint barge-boards of the surround-
ing houses.
Suddenly, the sound of ahorse hoof on
the Naarden road. Five minutes suffice
to bring in the rider and tell the news.
Naarden had fallen. At that very mo
ment the atrocities of Woerden were be
ing acted all over again. Defence ?
who could dream of defence ? By this
time to-morrow Muiden will be in the
hands of the French ; by this time day
after to-morrow, Amsterdam itself.
Muiden ! and Egber idle Weesd ?
He had a treasure there more precious
in his eyes than all the ingots in the Stad
huis at Amsterdam. He would ride at
once. His horse was in the little inn of
the town ; it bore the sign of the Eoode
Leeuw, and a huge red monster dangled
and creaked backwards and forewards.
over the entrance arch. Let others take
what care they would of horses, or money
or goods, he would see Elsie and Gerard
at Amsterdam, as fast as human energy
could carry them thither.
It is nearly midnight. He rides out
of the little town. Now there is no sight
nor sound, save a ruddy glow at the
northest. No ! that is not the break of
day, though day will break in that quar
ter. It is the glare of flames, even then
rioting through miserable Naarden, and
lighting up scenes which a man could
hardly btlieve to exist on this side of hell.
Across rich pastures and promising bar
ley fields, over polder and fenstill he
pressed onward, traversing that low flat
slip of land protected only by the dyke
from the waters of the Zuyder Zee
" Master Kampen ! Master Kampen !"
The old man was in his first sleep.
There had been a long and anxious con
sultation. Every thing was prepared
for flight. Men, women and children
were to start for Amsterdam at dawn of
" Master Kampen ! Master Kampen !'
and a heavy hand shook the cottage
The little lattice opened above. " Who
is there ? and what do you want ?"
" An order from the States. Come
down at once."
The old man is standing in the door
way, and has broken the seal of the en
velope. " What ! open the di ke gates ?"
" It was so carried at ten o'clock in
the Stadhuis. ' Let the sea have the
country rather than the French !' " was
in everybody's mouth.
" Then I must go and get assistance ;
we shall want twenty men at least. God
help the miserable country !"
" So lie will, Master Gerard, if we help
ourselves. Have with you to the vil-
All is expectation on the edge of the
dyke. Before you, the calm waters of
the Zuyder Zee, rippling in the moon
shine. Behind you, the rich fertile pas
tures of South Holland and the Sticht of
Utrecht. At your feet, that wonderful
erection of limbers, beams of thirty inch
oak, braced with cross riviters, and stud
ded with massy nails ; flood-gates hanging
on a mounlanious mass of Norwegian
granite ; bolts and bars, and undergird
ers the very triumph of she carpenter's
art. Men and women, and children, on
the great dyke ; closer to the great gates,
Gerard Van Kampen, with a ponderous
mallet in Lis hand the village black
smith and his men, with crowbars, and
the sturdiest youngsters of the villages
with pickaxes and spades, and mattocks.
" At it again, lads !" shouted the War
den of the Dyke ; " God have mercy on
the man who is on Diemenneer polder
now r
" Amen," 6aid a J venerable old man
who stood by. 44 In half an hour it will
be twelve feet uuderwater."
"Twelve, Master Van Heist? Work
away lads a good? fifteen. So I say
again, God have mery on the man who !
is there."
Ton ought to say Amen to that prayer,
dear Elsie : you have the deepest inter
est in that polder. For even now its
thick mist is rising above Egbert Yan
denvelde, and forming in the mooaliglu
such a halo round his head as that with
whieh-re encircle t ae'gloriued. ' "
The brave Dyke resists stubbornly.
There is heaving and pushing and ham
mering ; mighty strokes are rained down
on staple and bar ;nxes and hatchets bite
fiercely on upright and cross beams ;
saws cut into the heart of the English
oak ; but the great mass quivers not yet.
" It will be daylight before we are
through," said Gerard van Kampen.
" Try again, lads, with a will !"
A wild confusion of clamor and strokes
yes, it trembles now. More than one
huge timber has given its terrible death
groan. More than one staple has been
snapped in two. It shakes in good ear
nest. Here and there a little cataract of
water gushes through the wounds of the
erection. " Aow stand back, all ! Back!
Philip van Erekel ! It is going !"
One terrible struggle of the yet palpi
tating timbers, and then, with the roar
like ten thousand wild beasts, the Zuyder
Zee leaps through the breach. A stream
forty feet broad and twenty feet deep,
rushes into the country. Down go cot
tages and hayricks ; carts and cattle and
the wrecks of farms are dashed along by
the flood ; the land is as the Garden of
Eden before it, and behind it a foaming
waste of waters. The dyke side3 crum
ble away ; It is as though the Zuyder
Zee were pouring itself at once over the
land ; women and children shriek with
terror ; even the boldest of the men look
ghastly white in the moonshine.
And the roar of that water proclaims
to the Great Monarch, " Thus far shalt
thou come, but no farther !
Egbert Yandenvelde is half way across
Diemermee polder. His spirited little
pony has borne him stoutly on. Sudden
ly he grows restive, turns from the road
to the right, will obey neither rein nor
spur, takes the bit in his teeth and starts
at full galop.
" Why, what ails the beast now ?" said
the rider. And vigorously he plied both
whip and spur, and right heartily he pul
led the rain ; it was like trying to stop
the wind. On, on, on, still.
They are out of the polder. To the
right is the ruins of a castle, capping a
rise of the softest turf. Thither the
brave little horse gallops, and there at
the summit he stops.
" Why the beast is bewitched !" again
exclaims the rider.
What is that dull distant roar like the
wind on a stormy day upon a wooded
hill ? the air is perfectly calm ; arid
there is neither hill nor wood to the
A singular, fearful noise. A rushing
now rather than a roar.
" And w hat is that glare through the
moon's haze on the polder ?"
It is water.
Now he sees the truth. The Zuyder
Zee is let loose. Marsh and lowland will
be blotted out from the continent ; will
the rise of the castle of Zalst still peer
above the inland sea ?
Yes ; doubtles the Angel that stood in
the path of the rider was a friend. And
often and often, in the long summer
evenings, would Egbert and Elsie Yan
denveld be asked by their children for the
story of how they cut the great dyke
of Naarden, and how the good little pony
would go to the Castle of Zelst.
And this story of that never-failing
providence of octo Father, which or
dereth all things in Heaven and in earth,
is strictly true.
The Alps, resembling a strong and
prominent knot of the muscles of the
earth's granite, constitute a chain of
mountains which extends over a space
of three hundred leagues, from the mouth
of the lvhone towards Marseilles, to the
plains of Hungary. The links of this
chain become depressed toward each ex
tremity, and gradually lose themselves In
the level country. In the centre they
rise to an enormous elevation, inaccessi
ble to the steps, and scarcely perceptible
to the eyes of men. Their summits.
t . t 1 . n1 i j
crenuiatea as me oaiuemnu ot a na
tural fortress, stand out in bold relieX'
from the deep azure of the heavens
brilliant in dazzling whitenesi und?r the
first light of morning, warmly colored
like the rose at mid-day, and softening
down into the hue of the violet as even
ing declines ; these varying tints are
produced by the reflection (more of less
powerful) of the sun on the sheets of"
eternal snow with which the ridge? of
the mountains are clothed. When we
first look upon them from the valleys of
Italy or France, at a distance of sixty
or eighty leagues, they inspire the same
sentiment, arising from infinity of height,
which is produced by the sea or the firm
ament as regards immensity of extent.
It is a spectacle which paralyzes the he
holder, and from fear to terror, from
astonishment to admiration, carries the
thoughts of mortal man up to the Creator,
for whom alone nothing is elevated or
boundless; but man feels himself reduced
to nonentity under the stupendous arch
itecture of these elevated regions, and
utters an involuntary cry ; that cry is a
confession of his own insignificance, and
a hymn to the omnipotent power of the
Architect. It is from this cause that the
heart is usually more impressed with
piety on the sea or on the tops of moun
tains, than on the level plains, The mir
ror of His works, in which the Divinity
is represented, being on a grander scale,
lie is there retraced and revealed with
more distinct and impressive features.
Toward the southern or Italian side
the slopes of the hills are abrupt and
steep as an artificial rampart raised to
protect and shelter that fertile country,
the garden of Europe. On the north,
stretching in the direction of France,
Savoy and Germany, the Alps descend
from the clouds to the borders of the
lakes and the level of the plains hy the
most gradual and gentle declivities ; these
may be described as immense ladders,
with steps proportioned to the faculties of
man. As soon as you quit the inacces
sible region of snow, frost and eternal
iee, formed by the domes of Mont Blanc
and the Jungfrau, the slopes beco;;ie gra
dual ; the roots of these gigantic pinna
cle's seem to swell the soil which covers
them, and they become clothed with
earth, teeming with vegetation, with
greensward, shrubs, flowers aud pasture
land, moistened by the incessant filtra
tion of melting glaciers, which dissolve
under the heat of the sun. The emi
nences diverge widely on all sides as they
gradually decrease iu altitude, like but-
deeply and extensively sunk, to capaci
tate theta for hearing the incalculable
weight which they tire constructed to
carr'. Tims they form and hollow out,
between each separate ridge, narrow
beds, which soon become formidable
ravines, expanding rapidly into valleys,
basins and extensive plains, at the ex
tremities of which we perceive, from the
heights, the sparkling of transparent
lakes, from whence foaming rivers take
their course, to seek a distant and still
lower level.
Upon the flanks of these diminishing
Alps the traveller encounters, here and
there, a scattered cottage or insulated
habitation, resembling a tent constructed
of wood, built solely for the summer, to
wtiicn tne siieptierUs, in following then
flocks, ascend with the spring, aud from
whence they depart on the approach of
autumn. Celow this elevation villages
are found grouped together at the fool ut
a cascade, and sheltered from the fury of
the avalanche by forests of pine. The
beams and plunks which form the liouses
of these villages are furnished by the
same tree, which protects them from the
melting snows.
These houses, covered by a wooden
roof, which overhangs the walls like the
brim of a hat widened to protect the
face from the rain, seem as if they were
shajred and sculptured by the knife with
curious and patient skill ; they resemble
the toys of whitewood which the dhep
herds carve for their children while Ihey
are watching the cattle. External stair
cases, ornamented by balusters carved in
arabesque, lend from the ground-floor to
the higher story. Doors, surmounted by
hollow niches, containing statues of vir
gins, heroes or saints, give admission to
the upper apartments, which are lighted
ly windows in lattic-work, w ith lozen-c-shaped
panes of glass set in leaden
frames. Long-galleries with Gothic
balustrades surround the entire building,
under the open air, like a festooned
girdle encircling the waist of a bride.
Stems of May-trees, or spring of nutri
tious planti, suspended from the rof ly
their roots, Lang ever the exterior gal
lery and form a ceiling of colored monies.
Through the windows of the kitchen we
perceive the reflection of a large fire-
jplsce, which emits a perpetual War.e.
Branches and splinters of pine, artis-
tically cleft and piled under the gallery,
(a certain sign of opulence.) constitute a
wood-houfe, well supplied to meet the
exigencies of the winter. At the side of
this pile are placed folding-door, which
open into extensive stables, floored with
planks of pine, cleansed and shining
like the table of a careful housekeeper,
The luke warm and pe rfuined breath of
heifers issues from these doors, mingled
with the piteous lowing of young bulls
calling for their absent tnothet. A tnov- j w0uld 4) overwhelmed and fulUt sacri
able wooden bridge, thrown over the en- jfKe to the wolves. But. just then, she
trance to the stables, with a long and j jtu.ht cf a ,llot;VP wliieh miyht save
gradual descent, conducts the carts loaded j )(,r OTrrI i;fe, j,v c:u ;ng ,. i10rse an(j
with hay to the. granary for fodder. Dry j ?ri,t ,f corn U its own fate. It required
forage uml yellow straw issue from all j iome dexifriry to carry it into t fleet.
the windows of this vegetable magazine ; j Nut she found this was her Li-t chance.
abundance is everywhere mingled with
simplicity. In the middle of the. court.
a i.ouow trunk oi pine Crams tlirougn an
iron pipe water from the mountain-
streams into an enormous woodea trough,
to satisfy the thirst of the cattle.
On whatever side you regard the
flanks of the Alpine region, whether on
tne nearest eminences, me slope ot tne j.ier or its load, reached home. The gal
glacier, the roof of the dwelling-place j l:lt woman remained in the tree until
the wails of the building, the store of j all was quiet ; the wolves not seeing her,
wood, the stable or the fountain, the eye . hen she came down and gained her
encounters nothing hut pine, alive or i home safe about an hour nfi.-r tU tw..
dead. The Switzer and pine-tree are
bretiiren. It teems as if Providence
had assigned to every distinct race, of hu
man beings a special tree, which accom
panies lhetn, or which they follow
throughout their terrestrial peregrina
tions ; a tree which tinords them nourish
ment, heat, drink, s'.ielter ; which gathers
them together under its branches, forms,
as it were, a member of the domestic
;! n nrwl 1 .. w.r., ,a T,t 1 ,....!.. ,1.1
god, attacned to every individual hearth- 1 . , . . , , .
0 T . , i bread, rest and health.
stone. It is thus w ith the mulberry in r . , , .
. . -1 "1 want to see my niotncr, sobbed a
Liana, the date 1:1 Africa, the fig in In- . , . 1.1 ,
' 0 poor child, as the city undertaker screwed
din, the oak in France, the orange in d()Wn ,,je ,op
Italy, the vine in Spain and Burgundy, j You Klu-t-g4.t out of . ;
the pine in Switzerland and the piihn in 1 ..,, j, , . .. 1 , , , ,, , .
i . 1 w liy uon I somebody take tne brat away t
Oceanica. The animal and vegetable .. 1 1 .
c '-Only let me se her one minute,
wondare bound together by invisible ,crKfd w hapless, hopeless orphan, clutch
ties ; annihilate trees and man mu-t , ing (he s;Je fef he diutUy and as hj
perish. -... 1 - 1 - .
The green mountains of Vermont,
which extend through the greater part
of the counties of Washington, CLitteli-
lan and liutland, have been the scene,
in by gone days of many hard fought
1 .... 1 , . 1 t
uaiues not omy wuu me Indians, but bat-
ties with bears, wolves and catamounts.
The early settlery were, in order to
carry out their plan of civilization,
obliged to encounter all theic natives of
the forest. People of the present day,
with their fine houses fast hordes, rail-
1-oad.i, telegraphs, &c, can hardly imug-
inehow tueir forefathers, a century ago, than granite built in hU boy-heart to the
accomplished so much, both in cle:u in J memory of a hearties deed.
the wilderness of foes, and in felling the
forests, preliminary to cultivation. But j T1,e cf'"r-':'e crowded to sufTo
times have changed; Although the peo- j c;tli""-
ple of the nineteenth vi,tury have i.inde 1 " !tn.v "r c :'Pi ' nr roan's
some remarktsble di.-coveries in the Bei-ic0-";M'J j'"".
entific world still it mu.-t be iidu.itted
they have sad'y degenerated i:i a phyj -
ieal point of lew. Ju.-t imagine one ofi'"" ' recognition, blended with
our modern girls, accustomed to riie in j lia,Iel,,.v r'-'-ervc upon las bnn.Uome fea
her father's cushioned eartia. "oiu- to Um" a .v,,an r,1:,n M"''1 forward with
mill on horseback with a bag of corn for
. ..
a san-Jie. The man and woman of a
hundred years 00. .
In 1777, when the V.niuh Genera!,4.
Burgoyne, with his army, wa, murehing '
from Canada, along the Western Loun-!
dary of Vermont, n woman whoso liti"-.
naiiil was 1:1 the American army, set out i
for the gmtiiii.'l, nccompuuied wiihher,
horse, which carried the grist on its back. !
The road which she traveled wat lonely j
being nearly all the way through thick I
woods. It wai about three o'clock iu
lt, t'W.wu.M u !.n -!... 1.. n t 1... !
, , , , , , 1 Ivwtitv Venn sjro von stni'-k n Iroken-
and as she had been there many time!, . , v . . .
, , . , . 4 i betirtel hv away from his mother ioor
, , "
hart (sullictent tune to carry out her ,l.iu !
successfully. She was well awar. that!
.1 anv-ooMiicie siiou.i arise to invp-de
her progress, nd thus retain her tillaf -
it,.. ...
ter uarK, tne tnigLt meet wita trouble.
anived ul
the mill, a distance of aootit fgur mile j twenty tear. Go! and remember the
from her home, he found that she would j leur of n fi iendlem rhiM mvl the heart
be cblig'-d to wait an hour and a half (r: that ean wrong him.'
br grist. At Gn4 she thought ho would j The man Lowed Lis Leal -in fharne,
return without it j Lot a secund thought j and went out from the pretence of a mag
told her that if she did this, her children t nanimhy as proud to l.im m iitcomnre.
would Lave to go without their upp r.
Finally he made uj her mind to run t!e
rhk of being overhauled by the iid
Leasts. Leaving the mill an uxm a h-rr
grLt wsu ready she proceeded on he :
homeward voyage as rapidly a pos.iLle,
lent nigU shofcld overtuke her before m
got halfway to her 4itttkii Itatant
I how lings in the wihh-rness told her that
I she had not pnsscd unobserved. They
- continued to grow nearer. At hist, w hen
I about a mile from her home, the wolves
, overtook her. She used every means to
j urge her horse nlottg with speed. The
'drove of wolves at the horse's head were
, every few minutes receiving additional
j reinforcements alor.z the path. Things
j were coming to a crisis ; she saw plainiv,
that in all probability, she could not
reach home before the uud her horse
she accordingly steered her horse under
some trees whose bram-hes came so near
, tie ground, that by rising from (he horse,
j she foulJ n,ach tm nn(, ut fuU ,r.lHop
Uc w,e Umu.j umk.r .
L i , ,,. ...
j a dexterous jump, succeeded in catching
j h!d of a branch and climbing op into
the tree, while the horse with the remain-
The coffin was a plain one a poor
mi.-erable pine coOin. No flowers on its
top, no lining of rose-white hatin for the
pale brow ; no smooth ribbons about the
coarse shroud. The brown hair was
laid decently back, but there was no
crtjiped cap, with its neat tie beneath
the chin. The sutl'erer from cruel pov-
j-" miii laee, nuguiaii lean
streamed rapidly down the cheek on
which no childish bloom ever lingered.
Oil ' it was was pitiful to hear him cry,
" only h t me see my mother only once !"
thickly and brutally the hard-hearted
uiori-ter struck the boy away, so that he
reeled with the blow, i-'or a moment
the boy stood panting with grief and rnge j
j his blue eyes di,iended, his 19 sprang
S ar.art, a fire glittered tljough his tears,
j Rs he raised his puny nrm, mi with a
j most unehildifh accent, iwaracd, when
i r, ., vn .,; r... .1...,
There was a collin nod n heap of earth
between the mother at.d the poor for-
j si,U-ti child, and a monument stronger
ihere was a silence when he finhdied.
!"1"'' l'l ''g:"b' !,r " 'l together, a
u Crin ,r,'u'1 a,,1 ''''"S ''; ', to plead
: c ! .. : 1 . 1. . i ff.
"" me memuess. nu
j HranT, hut from his entrance
re Kai M1,'t:ce' iLe i,1-n,,or of' '
U "n- convinced. I he man
1,0 not fir"! a f as acquit-
" May God bless you, fir, I car.not."
" I want no thanks," replied the ttran
Jjcr, with icy co!dne-i.
" I I believe you nre unknown to
b Man ! I will refresh your memory.
! coffin
wan that poor miserable boy."
The man turned livid.
" Have von re.cucd nic, thn to take
; , e --
! my l.fc .'
i - , , twttier nst.n0 1
7 3
1 have saved the life of a man whe bru-
ml rankled ii niv !jrr-nt for
Lcn-ibilc, and lie noble young lawyer
felt God's smile in Lis oul forever after.
2T Jlr. I'crguoon ays that the pret
tiest sewing-machine be e ver taw was
bout seventeen years old, with short
kleevea, low-up' k'd drs;aid with gaiter

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