The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1883-01-19
A Picture of a Great Storm.
BOW the Blizzard Sweeps Down on the
7 Unsuspecting Farmer of the Prairie
States



About one o'clock, while we were in a dry
goods store, the merchant, who had stepped out
a moment before, said to u.s. "I don't like to
drive away my customers but a blizzard is
coming from the west, and it is coming fast The
telegraph announces that it has reached Nor
fis. That is forty miles from here, but it is
coming at the rate of forty miles per hour, SO
you have got no time to spare if you are going
home to-day"
He rolled up our purchases as he spoke, and
appeared to be in harry to get rid of us.
When we got outside the store the first thing
that attracted my attention was the fact that
of all the teams in the street when we arrived
not one excepting mine remained. Everybody
had scudded for home. Even then L did not
hurry. The SUM- was still shining brightly,
with not the faintest suggestion of a storm APP
parent anywhere. Before we got mile from
town had forgotten all about the coming
storm and the horses were jogging at their
will.
We were still two miles from home when
suddenly the sun was obscured and the air
grew cold and chill in a moment A darkness
as OF smoke swept over everything. Then | re-
membered why we were going home, and
gave the horses the whip in earnest, lashiDg
them into q run. Away off to the west there
appeared to be a leaden wall sweeping toward
US. There was hum in the air. A light
breeze sprang up, grew stronger, and in one
minute became gale. The wall came down
with railroad speed, the roar of its approach
every instant growing louder. From the top
of a roll in the prairie we could see our house.
and it came pretty near being our last glimpse
of it.
No words WILL ever convey an intelligent
idea of the blizzard, of the frightful roar with
which it rolls down upon you, the bowling and
Kissing of the wind. If you try to speak the
wind dashes the syllables from your lips SO
quickly that you do not hear your own words.
ln thirty seconds from the time the first snow
flake fell could not see my own horses. The
atmosphere appeared to be all snow, and every
flake of it was in hurry to get somewhere be-
fore the rest should get there. I use the word
flake" but that is wrong. No fakes could be
distinguished. The whole atmosphere was
filled with one big fake that hemmed us in on
all sides. Although Mabel's head wasn't over
foot from mine, could not see her features,
and could only dimly see her form. tried to
peer downward beside the sleigh and see the
track, but might as well have tried to see the
earth beneath snow bank. 1 could feel me-
ton to the sleigh SO that / knew the horses
we're still moving. The cold was intense l
tried to ask my wife if she was suffering, but
could not hear my own words.
During the two or three minutes that inter-
vened between the time saw the storm an
preaching and the moment it struck us the
horses had run at the top of their speed, SO we
were not much over a mile from home. 1t did
not seem possible for the horses to keep the
track. No one could live an hour in that
storm The only hope lay in the horses being
able to keep track that was being buried
deeper and deeper every instant. 1t ISM pleas
ant to sit still and freeze to death In ten min
utes was chilled through and felt that was
freezing. The horses were still movin., and
although could not see them, dashed them
with the whip. 1t seemed hours since the
storm had shut us in, and l was just becoming
convinced that the horses had got out of the
path and that we were lost on the prairie when
there came sudden lull of the fierce wind.
The air was still full Of whirling snow. bnt
could see objects about me, and it didn't take
long for me TO ascertain that we were in the
barn and wore safe. L had left the barn doors
open in the morning, and the horses had found
their way back; think by instinct, but my
neighbors think it was sheer accident. and de-
clare that it wouldn't happen again in thous-
and years.