Part 56 (1/2)

CIX ABIGAIL BECKER

(_Off Long Point Island, Lake Erie, November 24th, 1854_)

AMANDA T JONES

The wind, the here Erie plunged, Blew, blew nor'-east froed,-- Long Point was close at hand

Long Point--a swarassy homes, Woodcock and snipe the hollows haunt, And les rest at need, Where either side, by lake or sound, Kingfishers, cranes, and divers feed, And ht shut out the sight: Careen'd the vessel, pitch'd and veer'd,-- Raved, raved the ith ht; The sunken reef she near'd

She pounded over, lurch'd, and sank; Between two sand-bars settling fast, Her leaky hull the waters drank, And she had sail'd her last

Into the rigging, quick as thought, Captain and ht, And there all night they swung

And it was cold--oh, it was cold!

The pinching cold was like a vise: Spoondrift flew freezing,--fold on fold It coated theht up the sand-path drench'd and brown, To fill her bucket from the lake, Came Mother Becker down

Froail Becker tall and strong: She dipp'd, and lo! a broken plank Calass with anxious ken: The schooner's top she spied fro to ale! the rout and roar!

The blinding drift, the ood half-mile from wreck to shore, With seven men to save!

Sped Mother Becker: ”Children! wake!

A shi+p's gone down! they're needing me!

Your father's off on shore; the lake Is just a raging sea!

”Get wood, cook fish, make ready all”

She snatch'd her stores, she fled with haste, In cotton gown and tatter'd shawl, Barefoot across the waste,

Through sinking sands, through quaggy lands, And nearer, nearer, full in view, Went shouting through her hollow'd hands: ”Courage! we'll get you through!”

Ran to and fro, ht drift-wood, watch'd Canadian lines Her husband's boat to see

Cold, cold it was--oh, it was cold!

The bitter coldroll'd,-- No skiff could stand the strain

On all that isle, fros shut, Was never place where ht dwell, Save trapper Becker's hut