THE following incident is one among many which have occurred in the history of my life, and which so strikingly illustrates the special providence of God, that I am induced to send it for publication in the Repository. Mrs. Boarer, the heroine and narrator of the story, was the wife of Mr. George Boarer, and was, by education and parentage, a Roman Catholic. Her parents were natives of Berkley county, Virginia, and, at the time, were residents of the country in the vicinity of Sleepy Creek. Early on the morning of the 7th of January, 1800, she left home on a borrowed horse, to cross the Capin Mountains, to visit her aged parents. She took with her an infant child, a daughter, seven months old. The snow upon the mountains was three feet deep, and the weather was exceedingly cold. For defense, and company's sake, she took with her the house-dog, a very large spaniel. Having gained the top of the mountain range, she concluded to leave the great road, and, by a short cut, arrive the same night at her father's house.

She had, however, not proceeded far, before she found herself bewildered; and, in consequence, becoming frightened. She dared not turn back, but wandered about through the mountain until night had settled its gloom over the world. She then dismounted; and having fastened her horse to a sapling, she prepared a place, as well as circumstances would admit, where to pass the night. The snow, as before remarked, was three feet deep; the darkness was profound, and the wind from the north-west broke in a hurricane above her. With no company but her child, and no protector but her dog, her condition was lonely beyond the imagination to conceive.

Fortunately, she had with her some extra clothing, in the shape of a cloak and a shawl. Removing, as well as she could, the snow from beneath a large tree, she took her apparel, and made the best disposition possible with it; and, with her child and her dog, she composed herself for the night.

Mrs. Boarer stated to me, that for a week previous to undertaking this journey, she was unusually exercised about her spiritual welfare, and very frequently took an old prayer-book, and read it.

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Now, far from her home, desolate and distressed, she felt the need of close communion with God. The prayers which she had read the week before came fresh to her mind, which she offered fervently to her Maker. The night was long and dreary, and she spent it without sleep. Very shortly after fastening her horse, the animal became uneasy, and, breaking his bridle, started off at full speed. This greatly added to her misfortunes, for she had hoped by him to have reached some settlement the next day.

At length day dawned; and though, by the help of her clothing and her dog, she had kept herself and child from freezing, yet she was so benumbed by the cold as almost to be unable to walk and carry her infant daughter with her. This was Saturday morning. She now left part of her clothing, and made an effort to return to the point where she left the great road. After traveling until she was nearly exhausted, she concluded that, unless she reached the settlement, she must perish with the cold. Indulging the hope, however, that she might keep herself from freezing, or be found by some one, she thought it best to return to the spot where she passed the previous night. Accordingly, she started back, and, on her way, hung up her apron on a bush, and afterward a handkerchief, as signs of distress. in hope, though indeed but a faint hope, that some passing hunter might see one or the other, and come to her relief. Late in the afternoon of Saturday, and with great difficulty, she regained her lodgingplace.

But feeling now the dread of passing another night in so desolate a place, and summoning that indomitable spirit of courage, peculiar to her sex when in difficulty and danger, and seeing the sun fast declining, she determined to change her course, and make one more desperate effort to gain some settlement. Throwing off part of her apparel, in order to be less encumbered, she began again to contend with the snow, rocks, and caverns of the mountains, and at length came to a deep, narrow gorge, down the sides of which she could not descend with her child.

She looked up and down, but could see no place that offered an easier passage than the one before her. She hesitated a moment, but having no other alternative, she threw her child over, and then followed herself. By taking hold of the laurel bushes on the opposite side of the ravine, she managed to crawl up to the place where her child lighted, which, to her great joy, she found uninjured, save by a slight scratch on its face, caused by its falling on the crust of the snow. Resuming her journey, she came upon a hog-path, which led to a cleft of shelving rocks where these animals were accustomed to sleep.

She had now traveled-as was afterward ascertained-one mile and a half. Here she might have remained sheltered for the night; but fearing the return of the half-starved hogs, and that herself, her child, and her dog, might all become a sudden prey to their voraciousness, and her family never learn their fate, she immediately resumed

her march, and weary and faint, made her way about three hundred yards off, to the side of the mountain. Finding her stockings entirely cut up by the crust of the snow, and her limbs, and ankles, and feet all bleeding, she yielded the struggle, and, under some pine bushes hard by, she obtained a place to sit down; but the snow sinking beneath her, rendered her situation most critical and desperate.

She took care to wrap her clothes around her feet, and body, as well as she could; then clasping her babe warm to her bosom, she committed herself to God.

Her faithful dog had not left her, and this night would lie down just where she bade him; sometimes on her feet and limbs, and sometimes at her back, changing alternately, as if to keep her from freezing. During the night she fell asleep, being exhausted with labor and with want of food. This night it snowed and blew, until the new fall of snow was ten inches deep on the former. When she awoke, she heard the chickens crowing at the foot of the mountain, and the dogs barking, so near was she to a house; but the wind was blowing directly from them to her, which proved extremely unfavorable to her. About the same time she thought she heard the people feeding their cattle. She called as loud and as long as she could, but no one came to her relief. This morning she found that her feet and limbs were badly swelled, and the skin, in many places, broken.

This discovery went home to her heart, and she commenced to make her peace with God, and gave herself up to die. She thought if her infant child were dead, she, too, could die in peace; but, to leave it to perish with cold and hunger, was a thought more than a mother's heart could bear. She laid the little thing down to freeze to death before she should die herself, but when it wept, she would take it up, and clasp it to her bosom. Despairing at last to make herself heard, as the wind continued to blow violently in a contrary direction, she resorted to another expedient. It was this: She pinned her child's bonnet around the dog's neck, and sent him to solicit help. The poor animal, as if perfectly understanding her meaning, started off immediately, and was afterward tracked to the house nearest to his distressed mistress, and then to a mill; but, it being Sabbath day, and extremely cold, the dwellings were all shut up, and no one saw him, and in an hour or two he returned, and took up his station. When it was becoming about feeding time, she commenced calling again, and a man on the top of a stack of hay heard her, and told his wife that he heard something on the mountain making a noise like a person in distress; and he went to a neighbor and told him the same thing; to which the latter, however, only replied, "I suppose it must be a panther."

This night was likewise spent in making her peace with God, and she stated to me, that if she had perished that night, she had no doubt but that she would have gone to heaven. Part of the night was spent in great anxiety about her child. Her faithful dog, as he