Put Yourself in His Place [265]
suburbs, another jammed between a beam and the wall of a house.
They found some houses with the front wall carried clean away, and, on the second floor, such of the inmates as had survived huddled together in their night-clothes, unable to get down. These, Ransome and his men speedily relieved from their situation.
And now came in word that the whole village of Poma Bridge had been destroyed.
Little, with Ransome and his men, hurried on at these sad tidings as fast as the mud and ruins would allow, and, on the way, one of the policemen trod on something soft. It was the body of a woman imbedded in the mud.
A little further they saw, at some distance, two cottages in a row, both gutted and emptied. An old man was alone in one, seated on the ground-floor in the deep mud.
They went to him, and asked what they could do for him.
"Do? Why let me die," be said.
They tried to encourage him; but he answered them in words that showed how deeply old Shylock's speech is founded in nature:
"Let the water take me--it has taken all I had."
When they asked after his neighbors, he said he believed they were all drowned. Unluckily for HIM, he had been out when the flood came.
Little clambered into the other cottage, and found a little boy and girl placidly asleep in a cupboard upstairs.
Little yelled with delight, and kissed them, and cuddled them, as if they had been his own, so sweet was it to see their pretty innocent faces, spared by death. The boy kissed him in return, and told him the room had been full of water, and dada and mamma had gone out at the window, and they themselves had floated in the bed so high he had put his little sister on the top shelf, and got on it himself, and then they had both felt very sleepy.
"You are a dear good boy, and I take you into custody," said Ransome, in a broken voice.
Judge if this pair were petted, up at the Town Hall.
At Poma Bridge the devastation was horrible. The flood had bombarded a row of fifty houses, and demolished them so utterly that only one arch of one cellar remained; the very foundations were torn up, and huge holes of incredible breadth and depth bored by the furious eddies.
Where were the inhabitants?
Ransome stood and looked and shook like a man in an ague.
"Little," said he, "this is awful. Nobody in Hillsborough dreams the extent of this calamity. I DREAD THE DAWN OF DAY. There must be scores of dead bodies hidden in this thick mud, or perhaps swept through Hillsborough into the very sea."
A little further, and they came to the "Reindeer," where he had heard the boon-companions singing--over their graves; for that night, long before the "cock did craw, or the day daw," their mouths were full of water and mud, and not the "barley bree."
To know their fate needed but a glance at the miserable, shattered, gutted fragment of the inn that stood. There was a chimney, a triangular piece of roof, a quarter of the inside of one second- floor room, with all the boards gone and half the joists gone, and the others either hanging down perpendicular or sticking up at an angle of forty-five. Even on the side furthest from the flood the water had hacked and plowed away the wall so deeply, that the miserable wreck had a jagged waist, no bigger in proportion than a wasp's.
Not far from this amazing ruin was a little two-storied house, whose four rooms looked exactly, as four rooms are represented in section on the stage, the front wall having been blown clean away, and the furniture and inmates swept out; the very fender and fire-irons had been carried away: a bird-cage, a clock, and a grate were left hanging to the three walls.
As a part of this village stood on high ground, the survivors were within reach of relief; and Little gave a policeman orders to buy clothes at the shop, and have them charged to him.
This done, he begged Ransome to cross the water, and relieve the poor wretches who had escaped so narrowly with him. Ransome consented at once; but then came a difficulty--the bridge, like every bridge that the
They found some houses with the front wall carried clean away, and, on the second floor, such of the inmates as had survived huddled together in their night-clothes, unable to get down. These, Ransome and his men speedily relieved from their situation.
And now came in word that the whole village of Poma Bridge had been destroyed.
Little, with Ransome and his men, hurried on at these sad tidings as fast as the mud and ruins would allow, and, on the way, one of the policemen trod on something soft. It was the body of a woman imbedded in the mud.
A little further they saw, at some distance, two cottages in a row, both gutted and emptied. An old man was alone in one, seated on the ground-floor in the deep mud.
They went to him, and asked what they could do for him.
"Do? Why let me die," be said.
They tried to encourage him; but he answered them in words that showed how deeply old Shylock's speech is founded in nature:
"Let the water take me--it has taken all I had."
When they asked after his neighbors, he said he believed they were all drowned. Unluckily for HIM, he had been out when the flood came.
Little clambered into the other cottage, and found a little boy and girl placidly asleep in a cupboard upstairs.
Little yelled with delight, and kissed them, and cuddled them, as if they had been his own, so sweet was it to see their pretty innocent faces, spared by death. The boy kissed him in return, and told him the room had been full of water, and dada and mamma had gone out at the window, and they themselves had floated in the bed so high he had put his little sister on the top shelf, and got on it himself, and then they had both felt very sleepy.
"You are a dear good boy, and I take you into custody," said Ransome, in a broken voice.
Judge if this pair were petted, up at the Town Hall.
At Poma Bridge the devastation was horrible. The flood had bombarded a row of fifty houses, and demolished them so utterly that only one arch of one cellar remained; the very foundations were torn up, and huge holes of incredible breadth and depth bored by the furious eddies.
Where were the inhabitants?
Ransome stood and looked and shook like a man in an ague.
"Little," said he, "this is awful. Nobody in Hillsborough dreams the extent of this calamity. I DREAD THE DAWN OF DAY. There must be scores of dead bodies hidden in this thick mud, or perhaps swept through Hillsborough into the very sea."
A little further, and they came to the "Reindeer," where he had heard the boon-companions singing--over their graves; for that night, long before the "cock did craw, or the day daw," their mouths were full of water and mud, and not the "barley bree."
To know their fate needed but a glance at the miserable, shattered, gutted fragment of the inn that stood. There was a chimney, a triangular piece of roof, a quarter of the inside of one second- floor room, with all the boards gone and half the joists gone, and the others either hanging down perpendicular or sticking up at an angle of forty-five. Even on the side furthest from the flood the water had hacked and plowed away the wall so deeply, that the miserable wreck had a jagged waist, no bigger in proportion than a wasp's.
Not far from this amazing ruin was a little two-storied house, whose four rooms looked exactly, as four rooms are represented in section on the stage, the front wall having been blown clean away, and the furniture and inmates swept out; the very fender and fire-irons had been carried away: a bird-cage, a clock, and a grate were left hanging to the three walls.
As a part of this village stood on high ground, the survivors were within reach of relief; and Little gave a policeman orders to buy clothes at the shop, and have them charged to him.
This done, he begged Ransome to cross the water, and relieve the poor wretches who had escaped so narrowly with him. Ransome consented at once; but then came a difficulty--the bridge, like every bridge that the