Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-12-16

were lost TO her, and full of a wild unrea-
soning panic she was crying like one pos
sessed, when the door burst open ana a
chorus of glad voices smote her-sweet,
oh, sweeter, clearer than the peal Of all the
bells. Meanwhile, out in the bay, Joe had
found his travis much richer than he had
expected and he was so busy In stripping |
them and in batting and setting them again, |
tlat he gave little heed to the rising of the |
storm till its fury was all about him
+" 'Twont last long like this. Them sud
dent ones go as they come. Jes' keep her
head to the wind" he said to himself
She'll ride it OUT And then the snow
was wrapping him, blind and thick, and All
at once the dark had fallen. wal, ne
muttered 'ff one o. them concerned big
coal steamers don't come rippin along, II
weather it. It's tussle. But were soo9
for lief the stick holds-'fieasah' aiiu
me-
1, was a tussle. 1t took all his Will ana
all his strength to keep the boat trimmed
to meet the squall and riding on me lop
of the great seas that came roaring and
Kissing on, and only just fell short OF
washing over and filling the little Pleas
ant. And when the furious hour was past
he would have given all his fare OF hsh 10
lie down in the bottom Of the boat and
get his breath.
The sea was still rolling, in long swell
succeeding swell. and the snow was failing
| in Il thick sheet through which not gHm-
mer of light penetrated-only wide fa1nt
| dimncss seemed to swim up srayly from
| the great tops and hollows about him. He
|
could not tell in what direction. He thought
| perhaps the tide was running in, but as
| he looked about him there was nothing by
| which h could make sure. The lpswich
| light. he said, ought to he just out here;
| the revolving ruby and god of the light at
| the shoals ought to be on the other hand
| Plum Island light ought to be over MS
! shoulder. If he could but see 4 spark of one
| of them he would know how to shape ms
| course. But there not ray over all
the wide weller of water, through all the
| dim veil of the snow. He felt as if he bad
! gone blind He listened for the dull biare OF
| the whstling buoy but the snow muf'ied
| every sound and one wave tossed him sun
| to another.
| 1t had grown cold. The snow stung now
! like sieet. Rope and sail We're stiff with rec
| by George It'll be my winding sheet"
he exclaimed, and he fell back in the boat
and the thought of his wife'S terror and
grief struck him to the heart like knife.
/ 1t was Christmas eve and the children
would be caper!nS and carrying on. open
ing oysters top of the stove, roasting
chestnuts and apes. and looking over their
shoulders for him to be coming in the door.
And he would never he coming in the door
again. What would become of themi oh,
God, what would become of them, He gave
d great SODA sob of pity for them and
for himself-and in the next moment he
i.ught his breath i'll an iTrepressihlc alarm,
for here was music. Certainly, then, he
would soon he dying. dying of the cold ana
storm. They heard music when they died.
Here it came again-heifs, All, what
great wide surge of sound, one moment
resonant on the black air, then repeating
itself in a whisper. sigh. Again it came,
u shower Of tones. skimmering over the
water like flight OF gray and silver gu.ls:
and now one strong clash ana ring and roll
rose above them all-the Old South bell.
And with that came the 81 eely flash of the
North Church bell the hum Of the old town
hell. the GuaVer of St. Pau:s! And then
the wind sung in, blowing the sweet alarm
all back tn shore and closing the lanes of
Y. irFl hay mad