St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1886-02-06

the mountains; no attention to the
guidance Of the animal which be rode.
He had no clearly defined idea of
what he should do or say when he
reached the spot where his wife and
and Johnny were, Or of how they could
bear the terrible news.
He felt isolated from the entire
world; was unconscious of what was
passing around him or of the rapidly
gathering storm overhead.
HIS one dim idea was to get to where
his wife and boy were; and I think he
really expected that once there they
would all 60 away out of the cottage
and out OF the world-that they would
all die together, and at once.
There seemed to be no place in this
world for them, and yet they were or
dered to "move on" Where else could
they 90 to except to the other world;
and who else but Death was to point
the way, or be their guide upon the
! journey?
And Erastus and Lucy were to 90,
too, and would take the little baby that
was not yet born, for they were without
home also-they, too, had been or
dered to move on.
Then be wondered if Jennie and her
| husband were to 60 with them, end he
was not quite sure about it, They
| would follow pretty soon, of course; for
all who tried to get their living by work
would be ordered to ''move ON sooner
or later; but it did not appear that they
were to die at once, as he and Martha
and Johnny, and Lucy and Erastus and
the baby must do.
When the Clouds which had been
gathering all day. broke at last, and
the rain poured down in torrents. he
did not seem to know it. He was wet
to the skin in an instant, but he was
not conscious of it. His rubber coat
remained tied TO the back of the saddle,
where he had fastened it in the morn
ing before starting. The water ran
from his person and filled his boots, his
horse placed his nose close to the earth
and plodded on blndly in face of the
storm, but his rider sat the same, one
hand upon the loosened rein and the
other hanging idly at his side; his eyes
fixed upon the ground just in advance,
but seeing nothing, taking no note of
anything.
Left to his own will, the horse
ploddea on through the mud and rain
at a walk. Before they were half way
home night had set in-night as black
as clouds and falling rain could make
it. Soon the water, still falling in tor
floods of the color of clay; floods which
bubbled and seethed, and roared their
way down the hillsides and across the
road, forming frothy line of white, the
only thing visible in the pitchy dark
ness.
And still the horse p1odded onward,
fording the streams as he came to
them; scrambling up the steep and
slippery inclines where the road wound
round the mountain side, avoiding,
either by instinct or that peculiar power |
of seeing in the dark which some horses
possess, the deep gullies cut by the
rushing water in the clay of the road
bed; and still the rider sat motionless-
save as he swayed to and fro with the
movements of the animal which he rode /
and looked straight forward into the
night.
Suddenly, when they were about two
thirds of the way up the mountain,
there came flash of lightning, followed |
by a clap of thunder which seemed to
rend the very earth, and echoed and re-
echoed from peak to peak and then
went rumbling down the ravines and
gorges, finally dying out miles and
miles away among the foothills.
Many people have lived for years in
California and never heard a clap of
thunder or seen vivid flash of light
ming. A friend of the authors who
lived for twenty years, a part of the
time in the foothills and part in the
valley, informs him that never but once
in all that time did she know the ele-
ments to be thus at war. 1t is no won
der, then, when the flash of lightning
came, and the mountains shook with
the roar of the thunder, that the steady
old horse which John Parsons rode
should be frightened into spring sud-
denly to one side, throwing his rider,
and with nostrils distended and head
and tail in the air dash away in the
darkness, leaving him lying stunned by
the roadside.
How long he lay there John Parsons
never knew; nobody ever will know,
unless the angels who watch over each
Of us have made record of it as part
Of the account against those whose
greed sent a fellow mortal on that jour-
ney UP the mountain through the worst
storm known for years, with his brain
turned by the knowledge of his loss, and
all the blood in his body congesting
about his heart. And if the angels do
keep such an account, there must be
added to it the sufferings of Martha Par
sons, as she watches by the cot of their
child - grown dangerously ill since
morning and waits, and lis
ems in vain fn1. some sound that shall |