A MOTHER'S STORY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 760, 29 October 1870, Page 4

A MOTHER'S STORY.

♦ My daughter sits before me now, with her fair hair falling over her round, white shoulders in beautiful profusion. I note with pride the rare loveliness of her face, overspread with a soft bloom. The modest, downcast eyes, the quivering lips, the soft, tremulous voice, have just revealed to me a secret that gives both pain and pleasure. There is a pang in my heart when I think how soon another will claim and carry her from me— my little Bertha 1 Shall I lose her indeed ? Not her love and faithful remembrance; but her precious presence. Ah, my child, it makes me sad ; but this is the lot of mothers. I should be thankful that you have been spared to me thus long, to bless and brighten my lonely life. The remembrance of a time when I had nearly lost you for ever by a most horrible death, freezes the life-blood in my veins even now I Oh, shall I ever forget that time ? Long years ago— almost twenty years have passed since the time of which I speak, my little Bertha lay upon my bosom an infant. The joy of my life — the pride of her happy young father, with whom I had cast my lot cheerfully, and made my home in the wilds of a new, untried country. Huge mountains lifted their brows grandly to the sunlight around our cabin home; and down through the valley ran the murmur of trickling waters and the sweet perfume of wild flowers. The rare -beauties .of nature more than compensated for the luxuries of past life; and I was very happy, and hopeful, very proud,, in, this little mountain home, with my husband and child. One bright sweet autumn day, just before the sunset, I left my little daughter sleeping in her cradle, and stole out into the woods to pluck the last of the wild flowers which my husband loved, to place them beside his plate when he came home to tea. - Thinking of him and bis pleasures, I wandered along slowly, culling the little, tender white blossoms, with their faint flush of red in the heart— love and purity— till a lovely bouquet had been formed. With it in my hand I turned and retraced my steps hastily, hoping to find my child still sweetly sleeping, without having missed me. Without knowing why, as I approached the door a terrible sickening fear came upon me. So sudden and dreadful was this fear as I entered the door, I found myself reeling with faintness, and scarcely able to stand. "Why was it.? All was still. Nothing seemed to liave be^n disturbed about the house; and outside, the birds chirped cheerfully among the dark branches of the cedars. Faint and sweet upon the still air came the murmur of the waters I so loved to hear — not one rude, harsh, or jarring sound. What was it ? What did I fear ? ■ With quick, womanly instict, I rushed through the room into a small apartment partitioned off as a Bleeping chamber, and looked into niy child's cradle. It was empty ! One wild cry, and 1 rushed out again into the open aiiv There was but one door, and whatever hud" robbed pie must have taken her away by the • one path- which led down the valley to the island highway. I scarcely know what my thoughts were. I was mail with grief and fear. My hands werexlen lied lightly; my breath came thick and fast-, my eyes seemed starting from my head. I inn on ai don wildly, for a hundred yards and inoic Then I came into a thicker grove of pines s<nd cedars, where the shadows fell 16n£ and I lack : cross my. way. For the .ffrst time, as I glanced into this quiet gloom, my heart quailed with an inexpressible ngopy of fear. Was it here that I should learn my doom 1 Had the despoiler brought my little Beitha to this spot for death ? As I went tremblingly, for ward, questioning in anguish, the sound of dry leaves crackling under hasty feet, drew my attention a spot where jQ large Yock jutted out towards the pa'tnibelow. A narrow belt of bushes shielded it from direct observation by any one passing

along; and as I peered breathlessly round to catch sight of whatever might be there, a sight met my gaze which I shall remember to my dying day. It froze my blood—paralysed me. I neither moved nor cried out. Niobe, frozen in her grief, was not more rigid than I became at that dread sight 1 Beside a little mound, covered with dry leaves, lay my babe, strange to say, still sleeping soundly, thongh I then thought her dead, she was so still, and a slender, tawnycoloured animal, here and there flecked with black spots, was delightedly covering her over with the autumn leaves. Oh, the agony of that moment was more than human power can describe ! A chill, like unto the chill of death, crept through my frame. Deadly sickness seized me. Sight and sense were failing. In a moment more I should have lain at the mercy of that savage beast, helpless as my unconscious babe, had not a sudden and unexpected movement recalled me to myself. The child had been covered over, and now the animal turned and trotted away in an opposite direction. Is it any wonder if I passed my hand over my eyes, questioning if I had gone mad ? But this lasted a moment only. The instant that tawny thing was out of sight, I sprang down the little slope and snatched my babe from the ground. There was no hope of life in my heart. It was only the dead bab 3" I thought to clasp ; but as the wrapping fell away, the little creature opened its eyeß and stared blankly at me. To press her to my bosom and retrace my steps was the work of a few moments only. Fear lent swiftness to my flying feet, and I scarcely drew breath until the cabin was reached and the door had been bolted upon my enemy. Then I fell upon my knees, holding my daughter to my breast, and burst into hysterical sobs. Only Bertha's wrappings had saved her. She slept with them securely brought over her whole form ; and when the panther found her, she had caught those wrappings in her teeth and carried her to the spot from which I rescued her. Then she left her in order to bring her young to the repast stolen. And I knew that the moment she discovered her loss, might expect another visit. The first burst of emotion passed, I laid the child, again in the cradle, re-examined the fastenings of the door, then took down a rifle that my husband had left in the kitchen on its rack over the fire-place. He had taught me to use it in case of dire necessity, well knowing the dangers of the country we had chosen for our home. Now I took it into my hands with a strange feeling of mingled confidence and awe. The thought of handling a deadly weapon is always repugnant to a woman ; but the remembrance of what I had so nearly lost filled me with a resolution which almost amounted to savage fury. If possible, I meant to kill the panther, of which I stood in momentary expectation. I was not mistaken in my surmises. A quarter of an hour had not flown ere a wild thrilling scream, like the shrill cry of a woman in distress, made my blood run cold. A few seconds later, there was a sound in the yard of pattering feet ; then there was a plunge against the door, followed by a Bharp scratching, denoting anger and determination. From my one window, over which I had dropped the curtain, I peeped cautiously, and saw the panther's cub sitting upon a stump a little way off, while the mother strove to regain her prize. Like a bloodhound, she had tracked me back, and, with keen instinct, knew that her prize had been returned to its own nest. I looked again at the priming of the rifle, cocked it carefully, and sought my best position to command a good aim. This was difficult. The window was only a little way up, sufficiently to allow the passage of the gun's muzzle ; and the necessity of getting aim without attracting her attention made the feat I was bent upon performing still more difficult. After a while, I got full view of the panther's body, as she continued to scratch furiously upon the door. But I dared not fire until I was sure of my aim, and it was some time ere I could command a good one. A slight noise from her cub caused her to pause and turn her head, affording me a fair aim of her neck. I sighted her ear, and, with an inward prayer for help, pulled the trigger. The report, which ensued instantly, and a quick, sharp cry from the child, confused me slightly. But when the smoke had cleared away a little, I ventured to peer out from behind the blind, and saw the old panther lying stretched upon the ground. The young one remained upon the stump, whining piteously. I did not fear it, however, and now ventured to open the door, having first armed myself with a hatchet, in case the old panther should not be dead. ,But my precaution was useless. To my Busprise, the ball had entered the ear, killing her instantly. She lay over on her side; and I touched her tawny body with my foot, a strange feeling . of wonder benumbing me. Was it possible that I had killed a creature like this, of which the strongest men stood in fear ? Suddenly, something odd caught my attention. Upon the white skin, just under the right Bhoulder, was distinctly branded the letter H. Then a sad story rushed to my mind. About. forty miles distant lived a man of the name of Harmon. I had heard how he caught a young panther and tamed it, rearing the creature until she was nearly three years old. She had been taught the tricks that are often taught to dogs, and would carry his musket, dinner-basket, or hat, and even the baby from its cradle to Mrs Harmon's lap. This accounted for the ease with which Bertha had been sto'en away, without waking. The creature hadgrown used to the wonderful freaks, and had finally disappeared* taking her mistress's youngest Child with her. A band of men united and, sought* 1 the truant bsast for many days and 1 vainly. The little one had been destroyed :'

and the panther was seen no more afterwards, save once, when she tried to steal an infant from another lady, about twenty miles from Her old home. At that time she htd been reported wounded. In curious interest I hunted to search for scars, and found a long one upon her nose, as if from a glancing ball. This was the end of her career ; and I was the successful destroyer of a dreaded thing I Hot tears of excitement and joy poured down my cheeks ; and, with my Bertha in my arms, I sat down upon the step, and wept again, freely. The sharp crack of a second rifle startled me ; and I saw the little panther tumble from the stump, and remain kicking and crying upon the ground. The next moment my husband appeared, pale and overcome with emotion. His approach showed him the cub, and instantly he guessed that other dangers must be near me. The sight of myself and child, unhurt, and the dead panther at my feet, brought a burst of gratitude that I answered by a fresh burst of tears. That was the last adventure I ever had, and the claws hang as a trophy in Bertha's little museum. But I never look at them without a sickening sense of remembrance; though they laugh at me, and tell me I ought to be proud of having been such a heroine. I leave pride in such feats to those who like them better. I have had enough, and can well dispense with such adventures.