RESTORED: A TALE OF THE BACKWOODS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1906, 21 August 1890, Page 38

RESTORED: A TALE OF THE BACKWOODS.

"Next week will be Christmas week, Edward, and what is to be your present to me?" This was the jesting question which Mrs Edward Melville asked her husband in the depth of an Oregon forest, where they had been settled some years. 11 Ah I Mary, we must wait a while, and when I am able you' shall be compensated for all the privation and suffering you have undergone.' "I want no compensation except my husband's love and confidence," she replied, with a beaming face. The day was unusually clear, and taking down his rifle the hunter remarked that he would take a stroll in the woods in search of some game, and would probably be back by sunset. After hi? departure she continued her household duties, singing cheerily as she passed in or out the door. The day was unusually pleasant ; and when her little boythen only a child a year and a-half oldtoddled out of doors, she did not disturb him, as she believed the genial sunshine would benefit him. The little fellow made his way a rod or two from the house, when he began playing In his childish manner, and shortly after the mother passed into the house for a few moments. she came back the boy was gone. A few minutes seemed to show her that her darling child was nowhere in the vicinity. He was, indeed, gone 1 When this appalling fact burst upon the horrified mother, she was petrified for the moment. No pen can describe the whirlwind of woe that awept over her heart at the consciousness of her loss. But where had her darling gone 1 It was out of the question to think he had made his way beyond the boundary of the clearing. The imprint of the tiny feet could be seen in the soft earth, and they were plainly traced to a certain point, where they suddenly and without any apparent cause vanished. The little boy had disappeared far beyond the reach of the mother, but no human being, no wild or domestic animal, was concerned in it. Stunned and overwhelmed, the mother staggered into the house and fell upon her knees, with only strength to pray to heaven to asßisther in this awful affliction. Edward wandered several miles from home before coming in sight of any game. He wandered along in a sort of reverie, induced by the perfect health and contentment of mind, by the dreamy character of the day and by the mild, pleasing imaginings that occupied his mind. Finally, he sat down on a fallen tree to rest himself. Just then he was thinking of his little boy — his son — named after himself, and upon whom the parents placed such fond hopes and lavished such a wealth of affection. He ought certainly to have some present on the coming Christmas. What should it be 1 There were scores of things that came into his head, but they were unobtainable under the circumstances. All at onoe the thought came into his head : " I will shoot him an eagle ; it shall be stuffed until it resembles life, and from it he shall learn lessons of courage, ambition and noble aspirations." As if in answer to the wish that had come into his heart, a shadow suddenly flitted over the ground at bis feet. Gazing up he saw an enormous eagle flying overhead. It flew low and laboured heavily, and be could see that it bore some heavy weight in its talons. As quick as thought Melville raised his rifle, took aim, and firerl. The eagle suddenly rose about Gf t in the air, then aimed for the edge of a high rock, which by prodigious and despairing exertions it reached. Herft it dropped its prey, and then tumbled off the cliff, a distance of 20t't s where, after a few spasmodic struggles, it expired. By this time the hunter had reached the spot and claimed his prize. It was an eagle of enormous size ; and as he was about to

Btoop and pick it op a faint cry from above reached his ears. "He has not killed his prey," muttered Melville to himself. •• I will go above and put an end to its sufferings." With considerable difficulty and labour he clambered up the rock, and there he saw his own child, 11 My God ! " exclaimed the horrified father as he dashed forward and caught up the bloody form in his arms. He examined it carefully. The talons of the cruel eagle had been buried in its tender flesh, but it was not dead : and, with a thrill of joy, the father saw that, although badly hurt, his child was not moi tally injured. "Thank God I Thank God I" he murmured, pressing the child to his bosom, and kissed it again and again. "It was Heaven that directed that shot ! " he added, as he made his road back to where j the eagle was stretched. " Little did I imagine what you had in your talons I " Picking up the bird he slung it on his shoulder, and trudged homeward, walking rapidly, for he knew what an agony was wringing the mother's heart. It was just growing dusk when he crossed the clearing and entered his cabin. 11 Wife, here is your Christmas present 1 " he called out, and he placed the boy in her arms. Young Edward is now a goodly-sized boy, and he often points to the enormous eagle, which is perched above his door, aud which in attempting to make him its prey was made a prey to the marksmanship of his father.