Rensselaer Union, Volume 5, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 June 1873 — A MOTHER’S STRATAGEM. [ARTICLE]

A MOTHER’S STRATAGEM.

In June, 1860, the ship Wanderer left the settlement of Monrovia, on the coast of Liberia, in. Africa, having on board, among her passengers, bound home to England, Mr. Benton-, a young missionary, and his beautiful wife Helen, with ’their child—a litttle girl three years old. For three weeks the vessel encountered a succession of head winds and violent squalls, which, driving her toward land, at length compelled her captain to anchor in a small hay on the coast of Morocco. It was a beautiful spot, but a few hundred yards from one of the half-detached peaks of the Atlas mountains. Gazing inland, the passengers beheld a wealth of verdure, with tall trees and climbing plants, and flowers of variegated liuej many of the latter ascending to the tops of the rocky hills, and hanging down in long, graceful festoons over the valleys betweeen. In the afternoon, the gale having abated, the captain lowered a boat to make soundings in the bay. "I would so like to take little Clara askofe,” said Helen to her husband. ‘•You know she has been teasing us all day long for some of those pretty flowers.” “Very well; if the Captain will take the trouble to put us ashore, we will go,” said Benton. The Captain having readily given his consent, the two passengers were soon landed on the beach. “Don’t go too far away, sir,” said the skipper, as lie shoved off again. But little Clara, breaking from her parents, now ran up one of the lofty rocky elevations, the sides of which were covered witli shrubbery of the most attractive color. “Wait for me, George,” said Helqn to her husband, “and 1 will bring her hack.” The height the child was ascending to being very steep, she had proceeded about a hundred yards ere her mother overtook her. The naked arms and shoulders of the little one were by this time scratched in several places from contact with the briers. Mrs. Benton, therefore, dipping her handkerchief in a spring trickling down a rock, was about applying it to the bleeding parts, when she was suddenly startled by a roar, deep and prolonged, like rumbling thunder, apparently emerging from the" very heart of the mountain, and shaking it to its center. Terrified, she turned to behold an awful spectacle—the huge, bristling head and round, glaring eyes of that most dreadful of wild beasts —an African lion! First the head, and then the supple, tawny body, appeared from the shrubbery, the tail whisking furiously to and fro, the fiery tongue and sharp fangs visible, as a second roar came booming from the cavernous throat. “Just Heaven!” was all the poor lady could gasp, as with a mother’s instinct she snatched the child to her breast. Mr. Benton how saw the danger. He was unarmed, but he shouted to the men in the boat, who, turning, also perceived Helen’s peril. To gain the ship’s side, to call for and obtain loaded muskets, was, with the Cap- ~ tain, the work hf a few minutes. Then lie directed the boat ashore. A crackling report was heard as one of the weapons was discharged, and, witli a terrible roar, the lion turned, slightly wounded, looking toward the seamen. Only for a moment, however; the next, away lie went in pursuit of Mrs. Benton, who, with the speed of desperation, her child clasped tightly in her arms, was fleeing up the height. On she run, the lion, though wounded gaining fast. Now and then she would turn to behold that hideous head within a few yards of her, the eyes now resembling great white circles, with lambent points of flame in the center, while the closed teeth and wrinkled nostrils betokened that it scented the blood from the scratches the little one had received, and which had roused to the utmost the hungry desires of the savage beast. Gasping, panting, wild with terror and anxiety, the fugitive hurried along, scarcely hearing, far below, the shouts_of the pursuing seamen. They could not help her—they were not near enough. The victims would be torn to pieces and devoured long ere they could attack the lion. This Mrs. Benton comprehended. She saw no way of escape—her only help was in Providence. Watching the figures, as he sped on at the head of the seamen, the young missionary almost screamed in his great agony, expecting every moment to see his _ wife and child fall, a prey to the monster. The lion now being in a line with the ftigitive, the muskets were useless in the antjs of the sailors, who Would not fire at r the animal for fear of hitting Mrs. Benton. /- The strength of the litter, in spite of her efforts, was evidently ‘giving way. Her limbs trembled under her —she swayed from side to side—her gasping sobs could be heard eve* by the sailors. * ', The savage pursuer now gained with fearful rapidity. “Great Heaven!” screamed Mr. Benton,* striking his forehead with his hand, “can nothing be done?” Already the lion was within three yards of the fugitive. “Fire!” shouted the missionary. “I give you leave. There is no otter alternative.” “Tine,” answered the Captain as pale as death; “it must be either the lion or the bullet.” He gave his orders; the men took aim, andflred. But neither the beast nor the

lady was harmed. In their fear lest they should hit the latter, the marksmen had aimed too high. On went the pursuer and pursued, the lion now not more than two yards behind his intended victims. Mrs. Benton saw ahead a clump pf slender trees, evidently growing from a cleft in the rock. A wild hope animated her, and gave renewed strength to her faltering limbs. By getting behind the trees, and dodging, might she not contrive to elude the animal until the party from below should arrive? The cluster of trees was now the coveted goal, and she strained every nerve to reach it. But when she was within ten feet of it, she met with a fearful disappointment —a deep, yawning chasm, right in her path, between her and the trees, and which had hitherto been hidden from her sight by high bushes fringing the edge. . The chasm was too wide to leap, over She turned and stood at bay—her back to the abyss, her face toward the lion. There seemed no hope now. Death was before and behind her, hemming her on both sides. The lion paused as she turned toward him. He uttered a growl of triumph, and crouched for the fatal spring. The lady strained her child closer to her breast. To descend the dark depths of the chasm was preferable to being torn by that savage monster. There was no time to lose. In another moment the tawny body must come swooping down upon her. But now a quick, wild thought—a mother’s inspiration—flashed through her mind. Under the armpits she clasped the child with each hand, and raised it high above her head, so that the bleeding scratches on its white flesh were fully exposed to the lion’s view. That sight, roused to the full the uffcotitrollable desires of Hie Savage beast With" a smothered roar lie shot up from the rock, his huge form cleaving the air with one tremendous hound for the child. That was what Mrs. Benton had waited for. By elevating her child, she had compelled the lion to take a lofty leap; and now, with her little one, she quickly sank flat on the rock, thus eluding the monster, which, uttering one long, wild, terrible •roar, was carried head foremost, out of sight for evermore, into the frightful depths of the chasm. ’ ' Nearly senseless from the fatigue and excitement she had undergone, Mrs. Benton was soon after conveyed to the ship by her rejoicing friends, who next day left far behind them the place of that exciting scene of a mother’s peril and timely stratagem.