the poor wanderers. After many days of fatigue of body and distress of
mind, the sorrowing parents sadly relinquished the search as utterly
hopeless, and mourned in bitterness of spirit over the disastrous fate
of their first-born and beloved children. "There was a voice of woe,
and lamentation, and great mourning; Rachel weeping for her children,
and refusing to be comforted, because they were not."

The miserable uncertainty that involved the fate of the lost ones was
an aggravation to the sufferings of the mourners. Could they but have
been certified of the manner of their deaths, they fancied they should
be more contented; but, alas! this fearful satisfaction was withheld

"Oh, were their tale of sorrow known,
'Twere something to the breaking heart;
The pangs of doubt would then be gone,
And fancy's endless dreams depart."

But let us quit the now mournful settlement of Cold Springs, and see
how it really fared with the young wanderers.

When they awoke, the valley was filled with a white creamy mist, that
arose from the bed of the stream (now known as Cold Creek), and gave
an indistinctness to the whole landscape, investing it with an
appearance perfectly different to that which it had worn by the
bright, clear light of the moon. No trace of their footsteps remained
to guide them in retracing their path, so hard and dry was the stony
ground that it left no impression on its surface. It was with some
difficulty they found the creek, which was concealed from sight by a
lofty screen of gigantic hawthorns, high-bush cranberries, poplars,
and birch trees. The hawthorn was in blossom, and gave out a sweet