Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1880-03-11

towering mountains added impress
siveness to the thing.
There were probably hundred per-
sons in the possession, with score of
boys following at the sides, and ali the
villagers looking on. Suddenly the
music ceased; there was an awful whiz-
zing in the air; cry of "Avalanchep
" Avalanche" and an instant roaring
and cracking, as of falling forests. In
ten short seconds an awful food of snow,
mangled trees, ice and stones passed the
house like the swell of mighty sea.
Everything shook. The procession dis
appeared rs if engulfed by an earth
quake. Houses, right and left, tumbled
over and were buried in one SINGLE in
slant. The air, cooled for a moment,
and again hot, was rent with the screams
of the mangled. An awful catastrophe
had befallen us; the wrath of the noun
tains was upon the village! For mo-
ment we stood paralyzed-speechless.
My first impulse was to rush to the
street, and to drag my companions with
me; but there was no street. Even the
garden had disappeared in foam of ice
and snow. We thought of the back
window at the embankment, but as we
tore it open single glance toward the
mountain told us the horror was but
begun. "The forestp' we all shouted
in breath. 1t was gone, all gone, as
If mown by mighty reaper, and masses
of other snow seemed ready to slide.
The white brow of the mountain still
cleaned in the sunshine, and seemed to
laugh at the desolation. Another whiz-
zing, a roar, and with our own eyes we
saw the side of the mountain start. In
stantly and together we sprany down the
steps into the lower room. There WAS a
roll of thunder, mighty crash, and then
all was darkness. We were were buried
alive beneath an avalanche
What my first thoughts were 1 am IN
able to recall. l only remember our
fearful cries for help; how we shouted
separately, and then united on one word,
crying together again and again, our
only answer the silence of the grave.
Every soul in the village, probably,
had been killed, or, like ourselves, had
been buried beneath the snow and ice of
the mountain. 1t was only after we had
exhausted ourselves with vain cries for
help that we meditated on helping our
selves. We had not been injured. We
remembered that we were in the little
sittlng-room down stairs, the windows
only of which seemed broken in, and
filed with snow, ice and stones. The
stairway was also filled with snow and
the debris of crushed walls. Above us
all was desolation.
The furniture in the room seemed all
in its proper place. We could move
about, but it was becoming terribly cold,
and we felt the sleepy chill, that dread
full precursor of death by freezing, over
coming us. Once we were certain we
heard voices above us, and again we
shouted to try to tell them we were still
alive. We listened; the voices were gone
we were abandoned to our fate.
For hours we had alternately shouted
and listened, until we sank down in de-
spair. 1t must have been midnight
when, in our groupings about the little
chamber, our hands came on wax
candle. In few minutes we had light
light to die by.
Hours went by, | don't know whether
we were sleeping or freezing, when I
started at hearing voice cry, ga light
a light" l sprang to my feet, and again
the voice cried, "A light y In ten
minutes three haf-frozen, half-insane
human beings were lifted from the grave
into the daylight of the morning. A
hundred noble souls had labored the
whole night through, seeking for the
buried.
Every man and women from every
village in the whole valley had hurried
to the scene, and were straining every
nerve to rescue those to whom life might
still be clinging. We were among the
last taken from the snow and rocks,
which had lain upon us thirty feet in
depth. Did those brave rescuers Won
der that we kneit to them and kissed
the hem of their ragged garments.
Beautiful Bleiberg is no more. Half
of those whom we saw dancing along IN
the procession of the carnival, in the
bright sunshine, sleep among the violets
on the hillside The snow and the ice
and the black powders from the noun
tain, and the dark fir-trees, still lie, in
this summer of 1879, in one mass in the
valley. We all left as soon as we could
travel | went to 2
My chief has resigned, and am now
acting cons ul in his place. Should the
senate confirm all the new appointments,
l expect to remain as consul. Miss
Shelton thinks also of remaining, and
when Americans wander to Z they
will find the latch string of our home at
the consulate on the outside of the door.
One word and am done. Mrs. Shell
ton has lost part of her pension-so
,>>,,,b rs - 40 ,,.os allowed for N minor