The daily morning Alaskan., 1900-10-30
The Sea Restitution.

The third day out from Havre a fog came up and made the world opaque. For two days it did not lift nor thin, and 1t was difficult to believe, in spite of the log, that the ship was making any head way at all. It seemed almost as if the world had ceased to be, or as if it exist ed but in a state of Aux, and as if we, enchanted ones, accursed with an i'm munity from the common destruction, were left to contemplate the nothingness. Then, to add to our sense of doom, young baby was said to have died on Bhipboard. At first every one took it for granted that its mother must have been Il steerage, or, at the least, a second cabin passenger. It seemed unlikely that death would be so impertinent as to enter the first cabin. But it was learned that the destroyer had been even more insolent than that-it had taken a child much fla vored of fortune, the heir to great wealth.
 I went to visit Mrs. Morell, the child's mother She was tall and white, with wide eyes, which must have been beauti- ful when she was happy. Now a sort of blankness. like that of the air and the sea, had come into them.
 could not see her soul for her sorrow. She offered no condolences; indeed my sympathy could not reach to her dulled sense. Her grief was between us, impen- etrable as the fog through which the ship crept cautiously.
 "The captain asked me if 1 would be willing to have my baby buried at sea-" she said to me in voice which reminded me of mournful bell, land l told him had no objection whatever"
 "No" 1 calculated in amazed surprise
 Nothing is more peaceful than the deeps of the sea-" she responded, and it being night she asked me to walk upon the deck with her under cover of the darkness.
 More in sympathy than from curiosity inquired:
 "Your husband is awaiting you in America?"
 "Yes," she replied, her voice strangely colorless. "He will be at the wharf. He will expect to see the baby in my arms. He has never seen the baby, you know. have been with my mother, who lives in Paris, and the day that baby was 3 months old I started for home."
 We paused by the bulwark, and she looked down into the shadowy trough of the wave.
 Tt will make a soft cradle" she said. Her courage wrung my heart.
 "Where do you find the strength to en- dure such grief?" I cried.
 "Indeed," s&e responded, with the mournful shadow of a smile, "that can. not tell. It does not seem as If 1t were really I who has met with this great mis ( xx,hnc nlo ho uc been so altered and whose hopes have been so dashed, surely would not be fearless like this. It is Adele, my nurse who weeps."
 The next morning the captain read tht burial service with solemn accent ant into the colorless sea, through the white vacancy of the fog, the little one wal lowered reverently. I stood beside thu mother, and I would have sustained hel with my arm but that she gently repulset me. She swayed a little from side tt side, but there were no tears on the fac' that looked out of the quaint pointed hood of her sea cloak. She stared ahead of her at the stupid fog-she looked baf fled, into obscurity.
 Suddenly, an hour after the funeral the mist lifted. It rolled up as curtail rolls up, and it was a saffron color gleaming and splendid. When it hat lifted, a sparkling sea was revealed and cloudless sky. The world became "a diant It seemed to exult in its beauty Mrs. Morell cast look of reproach a this vaunting of natures youth and jo, and went to her cabin.
 Through the day messages were sen her and delicate evidences of sympathy but her maid alone returned thanks. Th next morning found her still in seclusior More than one of us thought of invadin that sacred solitude. but at the las forbore.
 It was the afternoon of that day tha the man on the bridge espied an objec upon the horizon at the south. It was black speck, visible in short time to . of us.
 "It,s q shiD's lonRboat." vn the vel