The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1895-02-24

mers came jogging behind their sturdy
teams. The keepers of the three or four
stores did thriving trade. But at this
uine the village lies as inanlmated as a
corpse. In tue rears of the stores, a few
men perhaps, sit l!stlessly by the stoves.
Inc people of the farms remain close in
doors during this storm. They have not
enough warm clothing to venture into the
terrible blasts. One can drive past house
after house without seeing signs of life
unless 1t be weak curl OF smoke scud-
ding away from n chimney. Occasion ally,
100. one finds deserted homestead, n
desoiate and unhappy thing upon the
uesolate and unhappy prairie.
And for miles around this town lie the
countless acres of the drought-pestered
| district.
Some distance from here a man was
obliged to leave his wife and baby and 90
INTO the eastern part of the state to make
n trcnzied search for work that might be
capable of furnishing them with food.
Inc woman lived alone with her baby un-
III the provisions were gone. She had re-
ceived desparing letter from her hus-
oand. He was still unable TO get work.
Everybody was searching for it none had
II TO give. Meanwhile he had ventured n
prodigious distance from home.
The nearest neighbor was three miles
away. She put her baby in it's little ram
shackle carriage and Travelled the three
miles. The family there shared with her
as long as they could-two or three
days. Then she went on TO the next
mouse. There, too, with the quality of
mercy which comes of incredible suffer-
ing, they shared with her. From house to
house she went pushing her baby car
rage. She received a meal here. three |
meals here, a meal and bed here. The |
baby was a weak and puny child.
During this swrling storm, tho horses |
middle abjectly and stolidly in the fields,
iheir backs bumped and turned toward
the eye of the wind. their heads near the
ground. their names blowing over their
eyes. Ice crusts their soft noses. The
writer asked "A farmer this morning:
"iiow will your horses get through the
Il don't know" he replied. calmly. ~
amt got nothing to give 'em. / got to
turn EN- out and let 'em russlc for their
selves. OF course if they get enough to
live on, ali right, an if they don't they'll
have to starvc."
And suppose there are few more big
storms like this -
well, | don't suppose there'II he a
horse left round here by plou Thin TIM, |
hen. The people amt got nothin' to feed
en- upon IN the spring. A horse'il russlo
or hissef in the snow. an then when tn
spring rains comes hell go all TO pieces
lnless he gets good nursIn' and fecdn'.
But we won't have nothin' TO give 'em."
Horses are. as n usual thing. cheaper |
n this country than good saddles, but at
his time, there is fair proportion of !
men who would willingly give away their
avorlte horses If they could thus insure
He animals warm barns and plenty of
eed. {
But the people cannot afford to think /
low of these minor affections of their J.
hearts. I
The writer rode as miles through the a
recently. The air turned the v
river dark shade, until he resembled /
some kind of purple Indian from Bra 5
al, and the team became completely !
'oatel with snow and ice, as If their little
brown bodies were IN quaint listers. They I
'ecame duh and stupid in the storm. 4
nder the drivers logging they barely G
tlrred, holding their heads dejectcdly. n
With an expression OF unutterab!c patient :
'eariness. Six men were met upon the II
DAD. They strobe along silently with $
atches OF ice upon their boards. The @
lelds were. Tor the most part swept bare n
( snow, and there appeared then the h
hort stumps of the corn, where the hot IL
'inds of the summer had gnawed the h
talks away. d
Yet this is not i'm any sense a tyne of a fl
ebraska storm. 1t is phenomenal. II is n
ypical only of tho misfortunes of this
art of the state. 1t is commensurate Il