The Osceola times., 1885-10-24
lie down, wrapped in one Of her own

'A '"AhhSs SAVaus anu Cilts VI pam anu
distress around her. aching in every bone
OF her body, poor Grace Lord passed
that awful night.
A little sleep did wonders to refresh
her, and with the light of morning came
hope, though there seemed little to
build IT upon. Thousands were rousing
to a fresh sense Of their own desolation,
families mourning the loss of one of
their number who had died during the
night, many grieving for children sepa-
rated in the crowds, all remembering
homes, comforts, blessings, forever lost.
With dawn. wagons from the IN.
burned part Of the city began TO arrive,
sent by kind hearts which remembered
the hosts of homeless fellow-creaturss
and filled with food. Bread. meat and
coffee were distributed, and Grace
thanks to her friend the German woman
Received a large roll.
But new uneasiness, or rather the
old one, began to creep over her fear
that this woman might try to detain her,
might suspect the treasure she bore.
Although with many pangs at the ap.
parent thanklessness Of the act, she took
occasion, while her friend was absent. to
slip away and turn once more towards
town. She had heard that all the
churches and school houses were thrown
open to the homeless, and she must start
on her 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, inquring 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 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 off 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 Il 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 a tramp and beggar,
and that after all her sufferings had not
after all saved her dear papa, for whose
sake she had brayed everything. just
at this lowest point of her courage, her
eyes fell upon a familiar face coming
out of a church.
80 Maggie!' she cried. with hei
heart on her lips, where's my papa?"
"An' who are ye thinpn asked the
tidy Irish girl. 81 don't know We, boy"
20 Maggie! I'm Grace! I'm not q
boy; have on Bert's clothes" Here
she whispered; I'LL went to gel
something for papa"
Faith thin! / do believe it's Miss
Grace herself but / niver should ha'
known her! Holy Mother! won't thev
be wild, just?n and seizing one arm of
Grace with a grip like iron, she started OF
with rapid strides towards the suburbs
but Maggie. tell me, are they safe!
Do you know anything about them,
MaggieP" with cry so full of agony
that the good-hearted though rough girl
stopped
"Well, ys, thin; they're safe and
sound in me brothers bit house on the
prairie. They couldn't git no place tc
stay. Your pa was carried in a wagon,
and and the Missis rode with the
driver. We couldn't git any place, an
so | made bold to speak of me brother.
who has a spare bed-so he has. So
they went there, glad enough to git =
roof over their heads. But amt they
just wild about you? Your pa was out
o. his slnses all night, and your ma
walked the house like mad cretur.
I'm out now-bave been all day-tryine
to find YOU. And why thin. I'd like tc
know did ye run away that black day?'
But Grace could not answer Relief
and joy, added to her suilerings, were
too much. She had tainted dead away.
About eight o clock that evening there
stole into the back door of an Irishman's
shanty on the prairie neat Irish girl
half-draggipg, half carrying the death
like figure of boy. ragged. forlorn,
hatlesS. miserable he looked ike 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 ye don't know her, Missis? 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 ii never be your lot to see.
When all were calm, and Grace was
warmed aud fed and bathed. and dres.
sed in some clothes of Msggie's, ir
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 10 be
not destroyed by its soaking-Grace told
her story, or what she could of it. Much
of ii she could not recall, and never
again could she be induced to repeat it.
so full of horror il was.
All through the dismal tale she wa
interrupted by her mothers tears and
sobs, and her fathers words, more