St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-04-17

fer Those who Desire TO Reach all
Glasses of Newspaper Renders in the
Great Northwest, and Especially i'm
Minnesota and Dakota.
ARANIRLE AMONG THE RUINS.
There is no power in descriptive art to
linn picture on paper that would convey
8 correct impression of the scene of utter
ruin and DISSOLUTION that lies on the track of
the cyclone which swept in its whirling
fury over st. Cloud and Sank Rapids. 1t
is the judgment in miniature. 1t was uni
versal destruction. In the limited scope of
its progress the cyclone made as complete
work of devastation as will be seen in that
day when the crush of world, and the
wreck of matter shall occur. 1t is one of
those things where neither ear nor tongue can
perform the Office of the eye in conveying
to the mind a correct impression of the
scene. All that might be told or written
could not give a proper conception OF the
horrible destruction. 1t is therefore a
work of superogatiOn to attempt to give
colOring to what cannot be described when
seen.
at what was once the depot, the first
glance at the ruin wrought by the cyclone
makes the heart sick. 1t is then, for the
first time, the real horror of the disaster
is realized. Such at least were the feelings
of the writer as he began an in
spection of the ruin spread before him.
Only step or two from the platform-all
that is left to tell that railroad station was
once there-bringS one to the wreck of
what few days ago was a pretty town,
peopled by thriving. industrious popula
ton.
TIE SCENE.
a little knot of persons, men and women,
stand in front of the supply depot, where
the relief committee is busy receiving and
distributing supplies to the sufferers. Two
white tents have been erected for a storage
depot. The people speak in bated breath.
for the spirit of death still hoverS over the
stricken community. The silver cords are
still being lOosed. the golden bowls are yet
being broken at the fountain, and the
mouTners continue to go about
not about the streets, for there are
no traces of a town left. Sixteen
bodies have just been borne to the cemetery
and news is brought that three more of the
wounded are in a dying condition.
A DAINTY RELIC.
Leaving the little group, we proceed to
pick our way among the debris. The first
thing to attract attention is little hat
which lies at the edge of pile of rubbish
near the foundation of house from which
the building has been swept away. A cash
in the crown shows where a plank was
driven into the skull of the wearer. Some
stitches in the rim show where mothers
loving hand had lately mended rent. The
mother and the owner of the little hat were
both laid in one grave this morning.
A TOUCH OF PARADISE.
Not far off is the wreck of Senator BUCK
MANS house. Nothing but the lower
floor and the cellar wall are left
standing. The building, shivered into
million splinters, and elegant up
holstered furniture, crushed into as
many atoms, lie in a common mass of
ruins. Broken bits of plate mirror and tiny
splinters of gold-gilted picture frames tell
something of the elegance of the furnishing
of the mansion. A venerable gentleman
and lady companion stand viewing the
ruins and their eyes are peeping into the
mass of rubbish TO see if there is anything
that can be recognized. The old man is the
father of Senator BUCKMAN'S wife, and was
at the house on a visit to his daughter when
the cyclone struck it. 1t was through his
presence of mind that the family We're in
dGced to find safety in the cellar, where
they were secreted while the storm demon
was creating havoc above them. They have
returned this morning for the first time
to see the place where the house
stood. On the spot where they now
stand was Mrs. BUCKMAN's conservatory.
1t occurs 10 the lady to have some of the
rubbish removed that she may see the ruin
of the flowers. The work is done, and,
surprising to tell, there are four vases in
tact, the dirt is still in the vases and not
stem of the plants broken. The flowers are
just as fresh and odorous as they were that
memorable afternoon when they were
buried beneath the fallen building. The
tenderest things of all the house contained.
these little flowers alone were spared. An
angel hand must have protected them, lust
to remind us that touch of paradise can
always be felt even in the gloomiest pre-
cinctS of earth.
A MIRTHFUL FIEND.
Here and there are evidences of the gro
tesque humOr of the cyclone fend. 1t is
devilish sort of glee, to be sure, but there
is a vein of fun in the old villain. A new
two-story house stood near the railway
depot. The lower story is swept away
not trace of itremaining-while the upper
story, comparatively unframed, Is dropped
down TO the ground. A Plymouth Rock
chanticleer steps around with the last
vestige of feather stripped from his head
and neck.
A SAMSON OF THE ELEMENTS.
An illustration of the strength of the
storm monarch is exhibited in the way he
twisted the iron girders of the bridge across
the Mississippi river. Two spans are lifted
from their place, one is thrown I'D the
stream the other down the river. A freight
train is lifted from the track-part of the
cars are upset on their right side
the others on their left. The door of a large
iron safe is found near the river bank. The
bolt is still securely fastened in its place.
1t is a better job of burglary than earthly
crooks with dynamite can perform.
MEMORIES.
But the pathetic scenes outnumber the
humorous. 1t is the first day that MEM
bers of families have ventured out to look