Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1885-12-02

cnuicntS ana ScnOOl houses were thrown
open to the homeless, and she must start
on hcs search for papa and mamma.
First. however, she stole softly around
the groups on the prairie, fearing, yet
almost hoping, to find them there.
Misery, sickness, death, insanity,
troubles of all sorts she saw, but not
face that she knew; and bravely once
more she started on the road to what
was left of the city.
All that day long she walked, weary,
footsore, nearly crazy, inquiring her
way to churches and school-houses, and
going through every one that she found
I'm looking for my papa, who's
sick, opened all doors TO her. Eager
ly, almost wildly, as the hours went by,
she peered into the faces of the crowd.
She ate something-she knew not what;
somebody made her sit down and eat
and drink; somebody said kind words
in her ear; somebody took of her soaked
and ruined shoes, and put on pair that
were dry, though coarse; somebody
tried to take of her jacket to dry it, for
it was soaking with last nights rain.
But fear of discovery aroused her. She
tore away with cry, and ran many
blocks before she dared to look around
to see If she were pursued.
Just as 1t began to grow dark Grace
who had all day heard dreadful tales of
suffering and death, of people burned
up, and people dying of exposure-was
settling into the belief that she no longer
had father or mother, that she should
all her life be tramp and beggar,
and that after all her sufferings had not
after all saved her dear papa, for whose
sake she had braved everything. Just
at this lowest point of her courage, her
eyes fell upon q familiar face coming
out of church.
20 Maggie!' she cried, with her
heart on her lips, "where's my papa?"
"An' who are We thinp" asked the
tidy Irish girl. II don't know We. boy"
30 Maggie! I'm Grace Pm not
boy; have on Bert's Clothes" Here
she whispered: I'LL went to get
something for papa"
Faith thin! l do believe it's Miss
Grace herself; but niver should ha'
known her! Holy Mother! won't thew
be wild, just?" and Selling one arm of
Grace with a grip like iron, she started of
with rapid strides towards the suburbs
"But Maggie, tell me, are they safeP
Do you know anything about them,
Maggiep" with cry so full of agony
that the good-hearted though rough girl
stopped
swell, yis, thin; they're safe and
sound in me brothers bit house on the
prairie. They couldn't git no place to
stay. Your pa was carried in a wagon,
and 1 and the Misss rode with the
driver We couldn't git any place, an
so l made bold to speak of me brother,
who has spare bed-so he has. So
they went there, glad enough to git
roof over their heads. But amt they
just wild about youp Your pa was out
o. his sInses all night, and your ma
walked the house like mad cretur.
I'm out now-bave been all day-trylng
to find you. And why thin, I'd like to
know did We run away that black dayp"
But Grace could not answer. Relief
and Joy, added to her sufferings, were
too much. She had tainted dead away.
About eight clock that evening there
stole into the back door of an Irishman's
shanty on the prairie neat Irish girl,
half-dragging, half carrying the DEATH
like figure of a boy. ragged, forlorn,
hatless, miserable; he looked like one of
the worst vagabonds of city life.
Mrs. Lord was warming something at
the fire, and looking so old and changed
that Grace hardly knew her. At sight
of Maggie she looked up eagerly, but
seeing her companion she fell back
with moan.
"Oh, my God! you haven't found her,
then?"
Thin We don't know her, MissisP No
more did L; but look again!"
Another and closer look, and mother
and child were in each others arms.
Good news travels as fast as bad, and
in one minute more Grace was in the
arms of her father, and such scene of
tears and sobs and groans and cries,
may it never be your lot to see.
When all were calm, and Grace was
warmed and fed and bathed, and dres-
sed in some clothes of Maggie's, in
which she looked like an oyergrown
doll; and when the precious package,
which had so nearly cost the lives of
Grace and her father, was found to be
not destroyed by its soaking-Grace told
her story, or what she could of it, Much
of it she could not recall, and never
again could she be induced to repeat it,
so full of horror it was.
All through the dismal tale she was
interrupted by her mothers tears and
sobs, and her fathers words, more
precious than gold. "Brave girl! Little
daughter! My darling! Brave little
woman!" and ending with n long en-
brace, and the last word of all:
Little woman, you have saved your
fathers honor and his life! You have
been u hero. Herbert-had he been a
man-could not have done more; l
doubt if he would have done so much. I"
-Mrs.H M Mil, in ~ Y Examiner