Conservative. 11
THE NEAVL.Y FOUNI > HOME A FRAG
MENT.
[ The subjoined was written by .T. Sterling
Morton for Dr. George L. Miller's Onmlm
Daily Herald and published by the same in
1870. It is one of the true stories of the pioneer
neer days of the territory of Nebraska.
Thcro wore three men frozen to death in
Otoo county during the storm described.
They were n Mr. Harvey and a Mr. Pee and
his son. ]
The first and second days of December
in the year 1850 will never be forgotten
by the early settlers of Nebraska.
Waking from a dream , filled with trop
ical skies , bright sunshine and many
flowers , wo found ourselves in whirling
clouds of snow ; and storm songs , sound
ing hoarse and fierce , sweeping by us
on the tireless winds.
The evening of the last day of No
vember was calm. The sun went down
in gorgeously gilded clouds , and the
prairies , stretching out towards the
great mountains , were touched with an
air of such supreme serenity that , in
their primeval purity , it seemed as
though they might have been among the
last works of the sixth day of the crea
tion , and when God saw that it was
good He had smiled upon them , and ,
catching the Divine expression , they
had retained it forever.
For some sturdy men among us , that
was the last earthly sunset. They were
out "hunting lands ; " looking for new
homes , where they should bring wives
and children and nestle down by the
clear waters , near gems of groves , upon
these vast fallow fields of the "West.
And when the day had died and the
stars crept out one by one , lulled by fa
tigue , these men wrapped their robes
around them , and lay down to dream
of dear ones at the old home in the East.
But at midnight there came a change.
In the far Northwest the horizon began
to darken. Gigantic clouds commenced
to gather like huge warriors , and the
black battalions of the coming storm
wore hurrying hither and thither across
the sky , like mighty soldiers eager for
assault , and hungry for the din and
blood and anguish of remorseless car
nage. The trumpet-oalls of the wind ,
careering over the plains , and roaring
along the valleys of the streams , sounded
the long roll of elemental war. The
stars , blotted from the sky , gave light
no more. Darkness and storm envel
oped the roadless , trackless prairies , in a
fearful , impenetrable gloom , and the
world seemed to us , out in the black
night , one vast , unpitying , unyielding
tomb. The sharp , frozen points of sleet
and snow stung the face like needles of
fire , and the wild wail of the winds
wounded the air like voices of the lost
and damned. The eye could not look
into , nor the mind imagine , the path
which should lead out of that awful
danger a danger that dragged- your
grave into your living presence , that
paiiited to yourself your own corpse ,
rigid , white , frozen , looking grimly up
into tomorrow's sky , a ghastly mockery
of that self , which in the morning so
proudly vaunted its strength and prow
ess. And mingling with these agonies
of the imagination would weirdly wan
der the image of mother mother pray
ing praying at home , by the big , bright
fire in the dear old chimney corner ;
praying for her wandering , storm-
shrouded boy. And then father ,
brother , sister , and the faces of loved
friends , woiild seeni gliding by , smil
ing out of the deep dreariness and
desolation , until the reason reeled in
delirium of despair , and we shrieked
and cried frantically for help help !
where no help could come , save that
which is divine.
All night we aimlessly , guidelessly
kept moving on ; moving we knew not
where , in the thick , choking , numbing
storm. It was a century of terror con
densed into a few hours. But at last
light streaked the sky , and the glorious
sun baptized another day.
"And then a sudden lull , gentle as sleep ,
Soft as an infant's breathing , seemed to bo
Laid , like enchantment , on the throbbing
storm. "
We three were saved. Directed to
the east by the sunlight we sought the
settlement on the river. Passing along
the course of the little Nemaha wo came
upon two forms lying in the snow.
They were those of a father and his son
who had been "looking for a claim" the
day before. The parent had ceased to
breathe and the blood was cold in his
veins and still forever.
But the boy yet lived , though his
pulse was fitful and uncertain like the
ebb and flow of an eddy. We took him
up gently and bore him speechless , and
his extremities hard-frozen , to the near
est cabin , a mile off.
We placed him on a pallet of robes
and chafed his limbs and poured a few
drops of brandy into his mouth.
His heart beat stronger again. The
warm blood of youth began once more
to vitalize his sturdy frame.
But with this came also the wildest
delirium and words and mutteriugs.
And then reason , almost , resumed its
sway. His eye seemed resting on some
thing a great way off ; it grew brighter
and brighter.
Clearly he called out in a strong ,
silvery voice :
"There , there , is our now home ; see
the bright water shining in the brook ;
see the flowers and the grand trees nod
ding in the wind 1 Oh I it is so pretty.
And there are beautiful birds there too ;
I hear them singing now and their
wings make music in my ears.
"This is what wo came out for. This
new home.
"And now they will all come. Brother ,
sister , mother ; all come ; this is the very
home mother told me about when I was
small ; and now she will come and make
it so good and happy.
"Couio , mother , come. "
And so the poor lad died , and his new
"claim" was not here , with earthly
parents , but with the Father in a
brighter , bettor , land than this.
Side by side , parent and child , we
buried them in the prairie. Never ,
hero , did their brawny arms turn the
furrow and sow the grain. Fifteen
years the snows of winter and the
flowers of summer have covered their
pioneer graves. But it is pleasant to
have faith that they found that brighter
home , away up beyond the azure fields
which God has sown with the stars , and
of which the eyes of the dying boy
caught golden visions when his last
breath whispered : "Come , mother ,
come. "
"WE DO NOT TAICE PRISONERS. "
The lost letter from Resil Mauahan ,
the Topeka boy who was killed this
week , was received a short time ago. It
is written in an easy , entertaining style ,
and is entitled to a place among the best
soldier letters received. Ho said :
"If you ever want to experience a
feeling that nobody can describe , just
bo sleeping in the middle of a road and
be woke up with Mauser and Reming
ton bullets flying over your head , then
have two old cannon go off about
twelve feet from you , have the man
next to you say , 'My God , I'm shot , '
watch the doctors bind up the wound ,
have a splinter out of the building back
of you fall into your pocket , and hear
the 'ping , ' 'ping , ' of the Mauser bullets.
You just ought to have a few eight-inch
shells go over your head ; they sound
more like the exhaust pipe of an engine
than anything else. Well , that after
noon , the 10th , after wading through
mud and water from twelve noon till
after dark , and digging trenches for
two hours , and going to sleep in wet
clothes with nothing to eat , and being
woke up every fourth hour to stand
guard ; after you have done all that you
ought to be pardoned if you think the
Philippines are not worth the trouble
they are causing. * * * *
The Filipinos put up white flags and
then when our officers go out to see
what they want they are fired upon.
They shot from a church just across
from the smallpox hospital and killed
one of the patients who was looking out
of the window. We do not take pris
oners ; neither do they ; so you see it is killer
or be killed. "
Mr. and Mrs. Manahan have received
a great many letters of sympathy from
friends who knew their sou as a bright
student , and they have issued a state
ment thanking their friends for their
sympathy. Topeka ( Kan. ) State Journal -
nal , April 29.