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 NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
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 LONDON: DEAN & SON, 
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THE NARROW ESCAPE . 
 
 
 In one of our New England's most 
 
THE NARROW ESCAPE. 3 
 
 beautiful valleys, about three miles from 
 
 D , is a deep gorge in the mountains, 
 
 known far and near as the Glen. The 
 valley is bounded on all sides, save the 
 narrow opening where you found ingress, 
 by huge flint boulders of adamantine 
 hardness, that seem to have been severed 
 from the mountain side only by the force 
 of some falling thunderbolt, that has 
 marked its course by a sear of more livid 
 whiteness. Not a living thing is to be 
 seen. The rocks beneath your feet are 
 ribbed as if the back bone of poor old 
 earth was laid bare to desolating anatomy. 
 In the centre of this gloomy cavern 
 stands a huge square stone, bearing some 
 faint mystic characters, and according to 
 the popular tradition, stained with a 
 crimson dye that the storm and sunshine 
 of years vainly sought to efface — the blood 
 of human victims that often bathed this 
 high altar of savage superstition. In 
 years before our fathers came, it was a 
 favourite haunt of the Indian priests, and 
 it is said that even after the " white 
 man " ruled in the land, some of the 
 
 ii 
 
4 THE NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 tribe would return yearly to dance around 
 this consecrated stone under the light of 
 the midnight stars. 
 
 One day in the year 1 8—, the hunter 
 il Wild Tom," as the neighbours termed 
 him, had been wandering far away among 
 
THE NARROW ESCAPE. 5 
 
 the mountains, seeking deer. A furious 
 storm arose, and much against his will 
 (he owns) he was forced to seek shelter 
 in this wild glen. Lit by the lightning 
 flashes, he had just succeeded in securing 
 himself and rifle from the pelting storm 
 under a shelving rock, when the air was 
 rent by a horrid shout. But he could 
 see nothing. So he lay perfectly still, 
 thinking it might have been the weird 
 voice of the wind as it rushed through 
 the mountain passes. Ere long the ram 
 ceased, and he could scarcely believe his 
 eyes, as the gorge was lit by the flickering 
 glare of pine torches, revealing the forms 
 of seven or eight Indian priests, busy in 
 some, to him, unknown preparations, 
 while on the ground, bound with thongs, 
 lay a young squaw. She seemed to rest 
 in the stillness of death, till one, approach- 
 ing her as if to unloose the bands, she 
 gave one piercing shriek. This was more 
 than "Wild Tom's" humanity could 
 endure, and regardless of personal safety, 
 he fired his unerring rifle. The savage 
 fell lifeless at the maiden's feet. The 
 
6 
 
 THE NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 others stopped one instant, looked at the 
 prostrate form of their companion, and 
 doubtless thinking they had heard the 
 an^ry voice and witnessed the vengeance 
 of the " Great spirit/' fled from the spot. 
 
 Our hunter descended from his fastness 
 and bore to the settlement the intended 
 victim. There she was kindly cared for, 
 and health soon returned to her little 
 form ; but the mind had been shattered 
 beyond repair, and deep sadness, so foreign 
 to buoyant youth, seemed to settle like a 
 cloud about her. She preferred to dwell. 
 
THE NARROW ESCAPE. 7 
 
 alone in a little cabin on the outskirts of 
 the village, where none were so welcome 
 as the children, for whom she wove bright 
 coloured dinner baskets, or taught the 
 boys to bend the bow and trim their 
 arrows. The simple truths of Chris- 
 tianity, as taught in the log church by 
 the earnest pastor of this flock in the 
 wilderness, sank deep into her heart ; and 
 the brain, enfeebled though it was, 
 seemed lit by light divine to comprehend 
 the glorious gospel plan of salvation. At 
 her own request she was called by a 
 Christian name, and the memory of old 
 "Aunt Alice" is still enshrined in the 
 heart-chronicles of more than one aged 
 inhabitant in this valley. One text of 
 Scripture was her especial delight : " The 
 sacrifice of a broken spirit and a contrite 
 heart, God, Thou wilt not despise/' 
 There is, indeed, a touching appropriate- 
 ness in these words of the Holy Writ, to 
 this child of the forest. Saved by a kind 
 Providence from a cruel death upon a 
 heathen altar, she humbly and gratefully 
 would lay low at the foot of the cross, the 
 
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8 
 
 THE NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 sacrifice best pleasing in His sight, even 
 " a broken spirit and a contrite heart." 
 And we doubt not that this anthem of 
 faith from the dying lips of " Old Alice M 
 was a sweet incense to our God. Truly 
 by the blood of Christ are all the nations 
 made one in Him. These words, first 
 tuned to melody by Israel's sweet singer, 
 found an echo in the " contrite heart" of 
 one of America's copper-coloured daugh- 
 ters. Not by offering up of bulls or goats 
 was she saved, "hut by a sacrifice of 
 nobler name," even Jesus our righteous- 
 
 ness. 
 
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