The Press., 1890-08-21
BY THE soNDER.
fcopyright by American Press Association.l
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 A few miles from where the Sonder drops it's turbid water into the Missis- sippi it passes through region which has all the elements of the picturesque. A few hundred yards from the eastern bank there is range of mighty bluffs, sparsely clothed with oak and cedar, and cleft in one place where 8 road winds down from the highlands beyond to cross bridge, rustic enough, but heavy and strong to withstand the spring freshets.
 A quarter of mile above the bridge dam has been built to turn the water into the wheels of an old mill which, lazily turning, grinds out its dole of flour and yellow meal.
 On this bank of the river are also scat tered a few humble dwellings, each with it's garden patch, and in the summer it's doorya1.d filled with hollyhocks, enor- nous sunfowers and an undergrowth of annals which grow with riotous luxu- riance in the rich black soil.
 On the western bank there is 8 stretch of bottom land two miles wide, held by nature as a private park. Here are gently swelling mounds with just enough trees, bright little ponds fringed with purple iris, and glades so blue with wild violets in their season that they look like piece of the sky.
 It is in late summer and autumn, how Sc S%c hno f0r then cardinal flowers, lobelia, wild as- ters, goldenrod and many other splen- did blossoms make mosaic of color that would delight the soul of an artist, if one could ever be found willing to face mosquitoes and malaria long enough to transfer hint of it's beauty to his can vas; for nature is jealous of her choicest possessions, and places an angel with 8 flaming sword at the gate of all earthly edens.
 Every spring at the breaking up of the ice there is rise, as the natives call it, and for two or three weeks this valley is submerged; then the water subsidies, leaving an alluvial deposit rich as that on the banks of the Nile, and on it is held a carnival of flowers, malaria fever and death.
 On wild March night when the flood was at it's height 8 woman came down the road and stood upon the bridge. The moon was full, and although stormy clouds were scurrying across the sky she shone out now and then and lighted up the weird scene and the face of the fig ure leaning upon the rail of the bridge and looking down at the rushing flood.
 This is what the moon saw and heard. A girl of 20 years, perhaps, with noble, womanly form and face not pretty with any mere sensual beauty of color and dimples and curves, but one which seemed to have had too early acquaint- ance with the hard problem of ife-and yet 2 beautiful face, with it's bread, white forehead, dark, level brows and sensitive mouth.
 A large gray shawl was thrown over her head and wrapped about her form, and she seemed to be otherwise comfort ably; clad in plain dark garments.
 s'I should not mind being down there" :" she was saying to herself, although haven't the least notion of jumping in. There isn't much to live for. Ever since can remember it has been just the same-the long cold winters going to that mean little school through the snow and sitting among the rest with my feet freezing; and they disgust me so, al. though there is no reason why they should. am no different from the rest, only feel a difference. Then comes the freshet, and after that fever and ague and typhoid and hot, wretched nights with millions of mosquitoes. ...
 "I wonder how it would feel to be among the drift2 Ishould soon be down to the mouth of the Sonder, and there are always men and boys paddling around there in skiffs and dugouts. I suppose that they would find me and hook me out with their grappling irons.
 ''I shouldn't look pretty at all. When Clara Grantley died how beautiful she was in her shroud of white lacel And there were flowers on her breast and in her hands and they kept her three days. wonder how they would dress me? Thatis if they gotme out of the water soon enough to dress me at all. I suppose it would be just cambric, and they couldn't keep me; there is no room. When people are poor and live in two roomed cabins they have to make haste to bury their dead.
 ''I have no notion of jumping in, but whatif should happen to fall in, would it matter much? Poor mother! I know she would be sorry, but life has been hard for her. Perhaps she would think I was better off, and father, who always seems sad, would be sadder then; and the boys would cry little, but they would soon forget me, and go fishing and be as happy as ever.
 "When the neighbors are down with fever they want me, but when they get we'll they don't care for me. They say that am proud. believe that am, too, and that is the worst of it. What have to be proud of? What will be- come of me? am nearly 20. All of the girls know marry before they are as old as I am, but would rather die than marry any one who will ever ask me.
 "When I go to Orquay with mother to buy calico and muslins and jeans l feel So poorly dressed and awkward. Why was I bornY'
 She looked far out over the swirling, rushing flood. There were strange shapes among the drift white logs which looked like dead bodies; blackened stumps with gnarled and twisted roots bearing the semblance of hideous monsters; masses of foam spread out like ghostly wings, and branch of sycamore like g great white arm beckoning to her. There