Year: 1873

Oh! that terrible pain She had a.
most forgotten it in her anxiety for
her child. 1t grew more and more in
tolerable. It seemed as though the
hailstones struck through into her
brain. What if they killed her! Was
she afraid to die ? Visions of eternity,
of the heaven of her faith, rose before
her. Should she dwell with God and
the angels forever? Was it possible
that there never would be an end? No,
she was not afraid of death. But her
child, her husband-how could she
leave them9 Not yet! No, no, when
life opened before her She must live
to help John keep his promise. God
would spare her for that. How long it
would be until morning. How could
she bear the pain so. long? Oh 4! it
would be terrible if John should come
and find her cold and stiff. John did
love her, oh so well. He had loved
her so long. II seemed so many years
since he first told her that he loved her.
IT was on the mountain side, in dear old
Tennessee. How far away it seemed.
How the sun shone and the birds
sang. How dreamy and bewildered
her thoughts were. How still the baby
was. Yes, she could feel his heart
beat. She no longer felt the pelting of
the storm. Had it ceased?


Her thought was answered by rush
of wind from a new direction. She felt
the great weight lifting off from her.
nv irrv cf oly
her.


The train went snorting into Win
throp just at daylight. John jumped
off and was the first to reach the ferry.
He had never seen Atchison 80 quiet.
With the exception of those who had
crossed on the ferry and few early
risers who were hurrying up the street,
the town seemed asleep; but as he
passed Commercial street, he saw man
who was riding mule, coming down
in great haste, who cried out, "How d'y,
John ?"


"Why, Jake" he replied, sis that
you I allowed you was half way to
Denver afore now"


>"We started yesterday, but we had
powerful storm on the prairie out
here, last night. We chanced to be
right near to house and they let us
in; but it sent our wagons rolling
over and across the prairie, like a
patch of tumble-weeds, and our oxen
are all stampedeG; I'm on the hunt of
EN-"


cit don't lcok like it had reached
Atchison.


"No; I reckon it just took a streak. !"


John hurried on down the river.
The road ran so near the bank that the
steady swash of the water seemed I'M
der his feet. The birds were singing in
the trees, and the sunshine came creep
ing down the bluffs overhead. How
eager he was to get home that morning.
His heart was full of new plans and
new purposes. He could keep his
promise, and he would he would never
make Nancy's heart ache again by
breaking that promise. He stopped
sudden]y-had the storm reached Sum-
ner? The tall buildings along the
wharf were leaning roofess, one this
way, another that; as if the wind, COM
ing over the bluffs, had reached Just
low enough to unroof them. He hasten
ed around the foot of the hill there
lay the brick hotel, the boast of the
town, in scattered fragments on the
ground, like wasps nest scattered by
the housekeeper's broom.


He looked around; three-fourths of
the town lay in ruins. How was it with
his home? He ran up the street until
he could see where it stood. Gone |!
Not vestige of it left. And his family?
Perhaps they had escaped before the
storm; perhaps -. Scarce knowing
what he did, he hurried to the neareet
house that was yet standing, and with
out ceremony opened the door. There
was no one in the room, but on couch
in one corner, white sheet "sunk to
the still proportions of two silent
forms. Moved by some strange impulse,
he turned back the covering thatshroud-
ed the faces-Nancy and the baby
Shocked, stunned, he sank on his knees
and laid his face on that dear form.
Who can describe, who can comprehend
the utter desolation of that eour None
but those who have felt It. Oh, the
thoughts and memories that crowded
upon him-many of them bitter, regret
ful thoughts. But there was one mem
ory for which he was thankful; that he
had not listened to the tempter which
whispered to him yestermorn that it
would be weak and unmanly to yield to
her request.


They found him there an hour after.
wards, but he asked no questions, made
no reply to their attempts at consola-
tion, and they left him alone with his
dead.


There was "hurrying to and fro" in
Summer that day, for many were
left homeless, many bruised and Grip
pied by the storm. And the mourners
who wended their way up the long hill
to the burying ground were as sad as
though the silence had been broken by
the tolling of solemn bells.-Kansas
Monthly.