The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-10-16
LOST IN THE FOG.


summer. ..-.> se
Maud and Amy were two as happy
girls as ever knew, till that evening
when they frightened us all SO with the
result of their disobcdience.
They ought to have been happy, for
there were rides and walks every day
through 4 beautiful country, and you
couldn't drop line from the old stone
pier without pulling up some kind of a
fish on yo*r hook. 1t was tide water
at the Point, and the river cbbed and
flowed like old ocean, five miles away.
So there was delightful salt water Tor
bathing, and the girls We're always
ready for dip.
But one thing they thought best fun
of all. There was never q boating
party that did not manage to squeeze
Maud and Amy into some old corne,
of the boat.
Mrs. Wilkes had been very strict
about that boat; never, on any account;
were they to go out alone. What
tempted them to push out '.for Just a
little btu that evening, never knew.
But they did, and, as Maudic was a
good rover, they stretched the little
bit quite up to the railway bridge.
The sun was dipping slowly, slowly
into his evening bath in the rough
waters of the WaEockancc. and leavin @
as his ''good-night' flaming glory OF
crimson and gold. Not Only tie float
ing clouds took his colors, l}nt al the
sky was ablazc, and the warm flush
glowed on the hilltops and danced
among the waving trees.
80, looks cried Amy, ga path of
glory right out to sea!'
Maud turned quickly. A cleaning
pathway OF crimson-tippcd waves and
sitting, golden sheen stretched down
the broad river, and was lost in the
brighter light of the western sky.
80, dear, | wish YOU hadn't said
that" she replied, with IN odd little
SILVER.
''Nhat?' asked Amy surprised.
''Why that about the path of glory, -
answered Maud. cit made me think
of a line of Gray's 'Elegy' that was
rccited last examination
':The paths of glory lead but to the grave"
quoted Amy slowly. ''Maud Wilkes.
what queer girl YOU are! l never
should have thought of that. There!
it s faded anyWayr'
80 Maudie,' with sudden start,
''sec where we arc!'
And Maud locked with frightened
eyes, for the girls as they rowcd
lcisurcly back and watched tho sunset,
had not noticed that the strong ctb tide,
sweeping out to sea, had caught
their little craft and was bearing thcrz
down that path, now no longer ripping
! red and gold, but a gray and Sullcn
! flood that seemed to laugh mockinniy
: the effort of the slender little girl to
row against it.
"Go with the tide, but head for the
Shore, said Amy. sitting in the bow,
Watching with white face and terrified
eyes her cousin struggling with the
oars. And Maud tried to follow the
advice, but the waves ran 50 high the
oars caught first on one side and then
| the other. and at last dropped from her
tired hands.
81 can't do any more; we shall both
drown. O dear! O luamma!' she
sobhcd, and threw herself Iown on the
bottom Of the boat, where Amy Joined
her. And there they both crouchct|
and cried, while the boat-whicIl
provi.icntially, was broad and tlat-hot-
toned, rocked and rolled and followed
the rushing river further and further
from the Point. Suddenly Amy looked
up, and Maud thought she never should
forget tho cry she gavc-a cry of such
terror and despair:
1.-The sea 70 2! The sea fog!''
Yes, there it was, the gray. in
pcnctrablc wall Of fog. shutting out
earth and SKY as it crcpt SiIcntl up the
river. And crouching there in the
boat, the girls watched as one by owe
the trees were swallowed by that re-
morScless gloom-thc banks were gone
and they We're MISUNDERSTANDING
how, they knew not-Whcre they
could not see. There WAS nothing but
the cruel water beneath. them and the
terrible fog above and around them.
All hope was lost that they might be
seen from the shore ard rescued. or
picked up by some vessel at tic little
port of the rivcrS mouth.
AS we older folks stood watching the
sunset that evening at The Point some
one discovered that the boat and the
children were missing. And soon all
the guests were gathered upon the old
pier; straining their eyes up and down.
but in vain. At last The keen eyes OF
Captain kecly. an old whaltr, spicd a
tiny spcck dipping and darling away
down the river.
Mrs. Wilkes caught his arm. "Oh!
are they in it? My girls! are they safe
in the boat?' she cried.
The bronZcd and we;thcr-bcatcn old
man looked at the poor mother pi!ifuilv
rs he answered il his old fashioned
manner. "Madam. I cannot tell.'
No one else could see the boat.
''Thcrc is . spy glass at the house,
cried young Fred Kccly, starting Oh a
run to fetch it, more to do something
tiliH any 1!iliiS Csc. ANY tHlHH seemed
better than to stand idly there. watch
ing our pets drifting, drifting away
from us.
Stop, my son. shouted The cap
tain in his grutf voice, grown hoarsc
with forty years of shouting above the
din of winds and waves. Stop, it will
be useless.''
Useless, truly, for all eyes could sec
and all hearts drca;! that awful gray
wall that crcpt so S;calthily nearer ard
nearer, and hid boat and river, cartl,
and SKY.
Mrs. Wilkes broke into a passion of
weeping, and VIC led her gently in
doors, while the men remained to plan
a rescue. The captain had soon given
his orders, and Fred and Horace Win
ters ran half a mile up to Fcrd's, where
the nearest boat was kept, and went
bravcly off through Ill that fog. after
the drifting boat, while the captain
mounted the old sorrcl pony that did
duty for a horse at the Point. and
iOrrpI of "a WnOCckoncO H,yc,