Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 8.djvu/342

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314
The Thunder-Storm.

ousy, envy, and all ungodliness, until I saw the picture of her cousin; then for fear I might miss a life-long happiness, by procrastination,—that thief of time, you know,—I started upon the next steamer, and here I am. I am not in despair; and, in fact, I am almost ready for congratulations. Go and see Winn and his lovely wife; and, if you do not become a candidate for matrimony, I am mistaken. Such a pair of turtle doves! Expect me—when you see me, not before.

Yours fraternally,
Harold Whitney.


The last sheet fluttered from my hand; and I sat in a happy trance, I know not how long.

A feeling of chilliness at last aroused me, and I looked dreamily around.

The blues were gone, bag and baggage; so was the fire. Snow was pattering against the pane, but it had a musical sound now. I looked anxiously around for my friend the fly: he had hummed himself to sleep upon the stovepipe, and was sleeping the sleep of the just; and day was gliding into the arms of night.

I arose, and lit my lamp; and, gathering up the scattered sheets, I tied them neatly together, and now, just as I received them, I tender them, dear readers, unto you, without any of my officious "tinkering."

Will you not agree with me that facts are Stranger than Fiction?



THE THUNDER-STORM.

ALICE FREESE DURGIN.

Darkly, heavily, threateningly lowering,
The clouds mass their angry forces;
Shiveringly, tremblingly, the tall trees, cowering,
Bend to the wind's wild courses;
While beneath the bending boughs,
Huddled together, the frightened cows,
Scenting the danger abroad on the land,
Wild-eyed with terror, mutely stand.

The speckled hen warningly calls to her brood,
From the snug shelter of her nest;
And helter-skelter the whole sisterhood
Flutter and tumble and safely rest,
Just as the storm in its fury breaks.
With peal on peal the thunder wakes
Deep echoes from every distant hill.
Voicing the fiery lightning's instant will.

From the imprisoning clouds set free,
Swift on its downward course,
On comes the rain with maddening glee.
Mocking the winds in its blinding force.
Helpless he their power to brave,—
Creation's lord, yet Nature's slave.
When the elements assert their sway,
O blind and feeble man, obey.