The evening Argus. [volume] (Rock Island, Ill.) 1861-1871, 1870-07-02
pta'''iitly- argus.


furious war Of seethine water raging
.founa oattiement of hard, wet rocks q
ioan iasneo Gnu burying Its feet in an angry
sea- ano . iong, white fringe of surf draw.
Ing line across the blackness of the night :;
sweeping gale OF wind bowling through
the hoiiow, caverns among the rocks, and a
great snip gong to pieces on the reef ont
siae; an ola man STOPPING over some object
which the sea had thrown pitilessly among
the stones, apd holding his lantern forward
IS if to see what thing 1t was that he s,umbl-
ed over.
"a little brandy, my good fellow ~ he
shouted, trying to throw his voice above the
loud roar of the breakers. at will do you
good. l have it. There y
He lifted up the thing which he found
and set 1t on q rock which the sea in it's fury
assaulted less mercilessy than the others
BY the lanterns H. ht it seemed to be a
young man, not ssrikingly handsome, bu,
with we'll formed, regular features. and with
mass of brown hair which lay across his
face like drift of matted sea weed. He
opened his eyes moment in the glare OF
the lantern, aud then dropped backward
again In swoon.
mo use" muttered the old man. Hes
most dead already. The old woman will hev
to tend him"
Like one who was used TO such burdens'
he lifted the insensible waif lightly IN MS
arms, and elm bed with him by 'he s.eIP
oath to the top of the clif ABOVE n 'i't'e
co,taga buiIt far back from the edge OF the
-ooIs sa,t one cheering ray of light, cleav
;ny through the clustering, inky night, fur
or 10 sea and toward this the old fisher
man made his way
L.
the door with his foot, aud depositing the
bubb,e-for it was little else now-upon
couch within stake care of this one he is
the first. The vessels breaking up; there
may be more. Hot brandy and plenty of
blankets will do it, l guess
"Merey upon US ~ cried the old woman,
What good looking man! Lay him down
there. That's it. Now leave him to me-
Silas Grant, and GO back and help the
others. I've resurrected more th8n one
young chap and old one, too, that was
higher gone than this
II know it, said Silss. "Where's Flo
RAJ"
II sent her off to bed. | was afraid some
OF EN- might be brought ia here that even
couldn't resurrect ; and there's no use In her
seeing such things"
Quite right" be replied, but,oning up
his coat for another rally into the storm.
"Don's let her see him either before morn
ing"
Wrapped snugly in Dame Grants warm
blankets and with hot water bottles at his
hands aud feet, the rescued men giided. al
most without a waking pause, from the
uuconciousness of death to the insensibility
of sleep,
To him the bowling gale and beating
storm without were as the wind and rain OF
another world He heard them not Ee
knew nothing OF the drifting spars, and
timbers and pieces of wreck that came
floating to the shore all night some with
elnging csrgoes of breathing, ye, half
drowned life some with only freight OF
CHASTITY dead ; some with not even that poor
load, but knotted with ends of rope and
pieces of torn handkerchief, from which the
owners had lost their hold and sank forever
ID the boiling, foaming sss. He heard
nothing of the crashing breakers the
shore below; saw nothing of the beacon
fires lighted along the cliffs for the guidance
OF any boat that might be struggling from
the vessel toward the shore. 1t was not till
long sfterward that he knew the story OF
that dreadful night and of HE own rescue.
Then they told him of the dead mother
whom the sea had hurled piteousiy ashore
with her liteless infant clasped closely to her
cold bosom, and her long hair Sweeping it's
baby face; aud of that other silent story of
y womsns love. where one, when in the
heaviest OF the surf and almost within reach
of help. on looking around IN the glare of the
beacoas, and seeing that her husband bad
lost his hold upon the slender spar that hsG
thus far borne them both, let go her own
grasp also, and followed him to death with
out o cry. Through all these things he slep,
in peaceful Inconsistencies
When he woke it was to light and life.
The first object that me; his opening eyes
was one so unreal and beautiful that he
doubted whether it belonged to heaven or
earth. At the window, near his bed, sat q
young and slender figure, with faithful, frank,
blue eyes, bending over some pretty work
ID worsted. Lovely as the rosy beauty OF
her cheeks, yet was it surpassed by the glory
of her long and wouderous hair, which drop,
ped downward upon her shoulders in the
morning sunlight-in q ripping fall of
glowing gold. He gazed at her in silence
for several MON ents before he could collect
his confused thoughts.
How long have you been here ?" he asked
at length.
She left her seat and came to his side
softly.
For an hour almost. Are you better?"
Eyes, l think so, except my arm. can't
lift ths:. 1t must be broken, | think. How
came | here?''
Father brought you here last night.
Don't you remember? You were thrown on
shore from the wreck"
'Ah, yes | know. Were there many
saved ~
Not mauy. Only two or three alive, they
say
"Who are you?"
"Flors Grant. And you?''
Nobody"
Haven't you name ~ she asked open.
ing her blue eyes,
"Ah my name. Yes Arthur RolIeston
Now | think | will go to sleep. Please sit
where can see you when ! wake"
She returned to her window again quietly
and resumed her work, while the patient
fastened his eyes upon her with a gaze 20
rapt that one would think her the last thing
he WAS to look upon this side the grave.
No one will care to hear the story of his
long recovery; of the dark, chaotic days
that seemed all dreams of the brighter
pleasaDter weeks that we're dreams, too but
cheerier ones of the short and swiftly flying
hours that we're painless at last, when he
could sit bolstered In one of Mrs. Grants
great arm chairs, land watch Flora as she set
working in the sunlight at the window Of
old Silas he saw little The weather beaten
fisherman was seldom home during the day,
and the young sufferer was left to the gentle
ministrstions of the old woman and her
daughter, more especially the latter, who
waited patiently upon HIM day after day.
And Flora, whose nimble fingers were
ever knitting, quickly and surely knitting.
,tb.. ID rlIa.t,ri. baar, in tba