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About The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 22, 1894)
) w- Y FRAGMENTS. Written for The Courier. 1SEE from my window a background of the deepest blue sky. There aro bits of drab clouds floating near the horizon. Away in the distance the somber brown prairies stretch out as lo vol as a floor. Here and thero to break the awful monotony are little farm-houses standing on the bare prairie, lonely and forsaken in appearance. The sun shines fiercely down, but all its gold cannot infuse light or cheerfulness into the scene. In the immediate fore ground I see some ugly brick stores; a little farther off some smaller stores, then some small dwelling houses, then a bit of prairie, and a straggling fragment of the town lying on the side of a hill. I gaze and (raze at the cheerless scene and my heart aches, it is so lonely. A city all about me, but all its people are strangers to me As I sit and dream and long for other days and other scenes, a little brown bird flies on the window ledge, and twitters and jerKS his head to one side, and gazes up in my face. The sun sends a bright beam through the window, and a song floats up from some place I know not where, and I am happy. It is a gloomy day. 'The clouds came up this'morning and hung their gray curtains over the blazing sun and everything looks gray and dreary. The tiny particles of mist that float in the air gather on the naked branches of the trees and form in great silver beads that drop slowly on the damp gray grass that borders the walks of the city. The flag on the building over there druops and hangs listlessly and the stars and stripes are huddled together in a mass of color. The brown birds flit here and there and alight on the brown branches, and shake from their coats the dampness gathered as they flew through the mists. The lazy smoke from many a chimney yours out its grimy volume and lurks about the house-tops as though reluctant to go out into the damp atmosphere. Suddenly along the damp gray street a funeral procession winds it way. The horses with their nets of solemn black, the heavy tassels swaying with every motion, the doleful faces staring blankly from the win dows of the heavy cabs, all combine to fill the mind with gloomy thoughts. On goes the procession out in i the hazy, misty distance, and soon tho great earth-clouds have fallen down and hidden the last carriage from our sight. And then with a sign we turn to go about our work. The winds of Nebraska are ever present. They blow from morn ing until night with a steady irritating force that almost drives a person wild. Tho first thing in the morning is a gust that comes up and as you turu a street corno , your hat is lifted from your head and goes rolling down the street and you run after it, saying under your breath, things that are not found in the prayer-book. All day long tho dust blows in at your window. The vines that hang against the wall swing ceaselessly. You get tired of their mo tion. The grass out in the yard is combed from dawn until dawn again by the invisible teeth of tho wind. Tho trees bend and sway until it is a wonder they are not worn out. The night wind blows around the house and its sighing voice fills the soul with unrest. As ou lie down to rest the mournful sing of the wind makes you feel as though the air was full of tho wailing of lost souls. As you fall asleep at last, worn out with the toils of the day, the winds moan a last lullaby, and your eais are deaf for a while at least, to tho monotnous blowing of the wind. Hark ! I hear the tread of winter - Beating on tho barren sod, Treading through the hiasted corn-fields And his feet are hunger shod. Gaunt and grisly, through the grain fields, With his icy flowing beard. And beside him, boon companion, Death, his bonv form hath reared. Hark ! I hear the tread of winter And the softer tread of death, Nearing with the year that's waning, And I feel their bitter breath. Hand in hand they come together O'er the blasted burned out west, Winter with his hungry garments, Death with bare and bony breast. William Reed Duxroy. ".- ' AND THEN. (Written for The Courier.) 7T LEVEL tract of prairie land with not a tree- in sight. (TyV Somber and brown the floor of grass Btretches out until jL A. the great domo of the fiercely bluo sky fltB down closely and shuts you in a world by yourself. The golden rod that was once so brilliant and shown like jewels on the prairie now stands old and gray, like an old man tottering in the wind. The birds' nests are empty and the tall weeds that marked their places aro brokon and f.Id. Tho stript cornfields look bleak and cheerless in the dis tance and tho stubblo fields that once waved with billows of gold ate brown.and gloomy and sad. Far out to tho right you see a sod house. It is low and huddles down to the prairie as though it were afraid of tho Nebraska winds. On tho roof are tall weeds that have gone to seed.acd from the rag ged walls a thin coat of grizzled grass waves in the winter winds. Out near the house are the straw built sheds with their tumble down appearance. Tho cattle stand at tho straw-stack and eat. The horses. loose from their stalls, rub their necks togother and stand idly on three feet, looking sleepy and unconcerned. Aout tho sheds are grouped tho farm implements, their former red and bluo brilliant coats now faded and dingy. Slowly and dejected a young man walks down the path that leads from tho barn to the house. He is tall and well formed. His clothes are clean but rough. And old cap rests carelessly upon his light curls. His eyes are bluo and his cheeks are a bronze red in color. He goes out near the straw Bhods and Btands with his hands in his pockets. He looks across thefiolds an 1 Bees where the drouth has left them baroand clean. He looks towards the house and sighs. There is crepe on the door. It floats out and he catches sight of it as he stands there. He turns away and his eyes fall upon a little head board sticking up from tho prairie to the right of the house. It is a pitifully small grave that he sees there, too small for that great, wide prairie to hold. He turns impatiently again toward the barn. Ho stands among the cattle and horses and talks aloud as if they could hear and understand him. "So this is the end of it all? All my planning and my hoping. Can it be possible that two short years can work such fearful changes in a man's life? How happy wo were, Mary and I when we came out here to these flat prairies We thought we had a palace in that sod house yonder. We worked day and night and m ide it comfortable and pleasant. And f-en the long nights when we read and talked over old times! How sweet they were! Then when baby come. O, God! how sweet the time; but now how bitter. frin ilie south and Mew all day on the i l.u Mary praye I tha ih-j raa 1 1 I t nought her prayers would surely be answered, but they w. ...t. X.t even a dud came u; to hide us rrom tho hellish rays ir ho s.iu. The great brassy sky covered us for days and at last one d real ml day the very gate- of hell seemed opened, and ho: blasts llx up n us from mor n.ig until night. The baby di -d that day. Si.ica that M ry has dm jped like a flower Today she died. She lies up there in the hou She will be buried tomorrow -a-id then." William Reed Du.vuor. "The hot winds came u field: but we though i might fall, and she w i-; . The Superiority Of Hood's Sarsaparillia is due to the treuieu la is am unt of brain work and cousiant care used used in its prep iration. Try o.ie b ttle andyo will be cnuvinco-I of its superiority. It purifies the blood which, fit; -i m.-e of h .d l, en.-es ly-prp-ia, ivitokiii'ij sm h-ad aches a id -jiIIious.ics. I. ts just t.ie aiciLci.ie f.ir uii Hoods Pills are purely vegetable, carefully prepired from the best itigredieats. There is no use talking our prices are astonishing. They're turn people's heads -turning them our w ly. E II illett, 1112 O street. Lamp frames and crepe paper at Craucer, 212 So. llth.
