Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-07-01
NO., 1856.

frozen people. 1t seemed an eternity to
Jenny before she could command her fin
gers sufficiently to light the lamp. The
lamp lighted, she had to crawl up stairs
and fling down blankets and pillows, in
which she buried her husband, first glad.
dening herself with the assurance that he
was alive and probably not badly frozen.
Then she turned her attention to the fire.
She regretted having said so haughtiIy in
that far off morning-ages ago it seemed
that there was plenty OF wood. There
was no wood left now, she had put ihe
last on before going out. But Mrs, Hardy
had not survived the tempest TO perish for
the lack of an armful of fuel. Her hus-
band might die yet if not properly cared
for. She could not rest, she could not
breathe, until he should speak to her again
and assure her that he was going to live.
She carried the lamp to the window,
and. shading her face with her hand,
looked out. The woodpile, whenever the
driving snow permitted glimpse, was
discouraging sight. only log showing
here and there, like the fin of = buried
whale. Jenny shrugged her shoulders.
ruefully, and turned away. Then she be-
thought herself of stack of wonderful
knots and grotesque little stumps (which
Roland had from time to time stored in
lhe corner of the lott; to be worked up.
when help in his labors should arrive and
he had consequently more leisure, into
vases and hanging baskets for the house.
plants. 1t seemed pity to burn these
but pity must give way to necessity and
without moments hesitation, Jenny re-
ascended the stairs and made q plentiful
selection from them. They we're dfyIas
tinder; and in short time q noble FIRE
cracked and roared in the big stove, and
Roland Hardy was oh-ing and ah-ing un-
der his blankets with the pain Of return
ing warmth JOS l4j
The glowing consciousness that she had
saved him bore Jenny up. Her own ex-
haustion was almost unfelt. her eyes
sparkled triumphantly and as she put the
slippers and some dry clothing, and placed
them by the stove to warm, her heart was
giving vent to praises and thankfulness.
She drew the wide, comfortable sofa to
the fire and heated its cushions Then
she stopped and took her husbands face
in her hands. >
"Oh, Roland, do you know what fear
full tramp we have had? Do you know
that we were freezing to death only q
short while agoP" 7soqga v-fI
Roland did not know anything very
clearly as yet; but he grew conscious of
being by the fire, wrapped in warm blank
ets when, as he vaguely remembered,
his last act was to lie down in the snow.4
"What was done p he presently asked.
"How did We get hereP whet helped
us ?"
"Angels!'' - replied Jenny
'You must have brought me-and you
may have killed YOURSELF" cried Roland,
a glimmer of intelligence beginning to
light up his eyes. e.', taf-o,
"Roland, dear. am not dead yet.
don't mean TO die, by Heavens good will.
And now | am going to pull off your
botts." .i-.9 "a b
"Oh. Jenny" -sf
"But remonstrance was idle. He was
thrust back on the pillows, and his boots
removed, with great difficulty, and many
tragic t1oulisheS and solemn remark ks con-
cernng his inordinate vanity in wearing
such tight ones. Poor Jenny, inl the 10Y
of their escape. strOye to make merry.
She was saving, as she put them away.
that she would next get him into bed. and
make him cup of coffee and Roland
was struggling to free himself from the
blankets, and, vowing that he would have
no more nonsense, when the room began
whirling around her, II feel so ridiculo0sIv
faint" she said. as he started up; andfhe
next moment she had fallen into his ex-
tended arms. 4.~.,inra,
Her first sensation on coming to her.
self was a consciousness of intense COM
fort, mingled with a luxurious, drowsy
wish that it might last forever. Present
time had faded from her. She fancied
she was child again. tenderly borne up
on her mothers breast, and nesting
among soft pillows. -
She heard the lambs bleating upon the
green hillsides, the brown thrush singing
in the sweelbriar hedges the perfumes Of
clover blossoms and of June roses
seemed softly to sweep over her. touch.
ing her face like cool, sweet. shadowy
hands, aud she nestled closer among the
pillows, and slept.
Her next consciousness was that Of q
man stumbling over chair, and uttering
in consequence mild imprecation. She
opened her eyes. The gray light OF the
fine winter morning filled the little cabin.
She was lying in one of her best night
SOWhS, tuShcu up III uiSu Sthlo Ou tuc So
la; and it was the tea kettle she had
heard in her dreams. and the cologne wa
ter on her face and hands that had seemed
to her like the breath of the summer
fields. Close beside her was the arm
chair where Roland had sat and watched
through the night. Her boots aud snow
wet clothes were strewn recklessly about
the hoor; wine, camphor, the coffee pot,
and the chapped hands lotion occupied
the table the bath tub was tilted up by
the wood box; the wardrobe bore evi.
dence of having been turned topsy-.u
vey; and David was calmly slumbering
on her best shawl. The devastating pow
er OF man had been let loose in that or
derly little house. $500
Poor David. he had got home then. He
must have lost his way as they did.
Roland Hardy, awkwardly busy after
mans fashion, and alternately regarding
his wife, lest his movements had awak-
ened her, looked half hewildered. His
manly face was softened by look of the
keenest and tenderest solicitude, inter-
spersed with perplexity as to the house
hold arrangements. He had just poured
some water into the tea kettle, and was
looking helplessly about for the cover
stnp tba IN Of ha aafr,a "