No other winter storm in the history of the plains, it may be safely said, was ever more distructive than this one. The states of Nebraska and South Dakota were visited by the blizzard in all its ferocity, but for that matter the storm may be said to have been general throughout the whole country, and its chilling blast was felt from the Rockies to New England. Yet the wind swept plains of Dakota and Nebraska undoubtedly fared worse than sections east. Loss to human life and property on the plains, in places, was simply appalling, and the surviving residents of those sections cannot speak of it even now without an involuntary shudder.

The storm burst with great suddeness and fury, and many there were who did not live to tell the story of their suffering. Stories without number could be told of narrow escapes throughout the plains.

The morning of January 2 dawned damp and gloomy. A mist had been falling during the night, and the wind, which blew gently from the south, was just cold enough to turn the moisture covering all nature into a light hoarfrost. Before noon the frost had disappeared and every indication pointed to an early clearing of the sky. Around the hour of noon a terrific storm blast came bearing down upon the open prairies and dotted valleys. In a moment, heavy leaden clouds were blotted out. A bewildering, blinding sheet of dustlike snow was whirled through the air, and before evening the thermometer had sunk to 25 degrees below zero. The wayfarer, caught far from home, soon found his pathway obstructed by the drifts of snow and every familiar guidemark obliterated. His bearings once gone would mean certain death unless he should chance in his blind gropings to stumble upon some human habitation or friendly stack of hay or straw in his path. As the early part of the day had been so mild, many people had ventured from home. Scores of farmers were caught in the towns, where they had to remain for several days, chafing under the restraint, but absolutely snow bound. Others less fortunate, caught on the road, in the valleys or out in the hills, soon found themselves in a terrible predicament.

Everybody suffered immense hardships or inconvenience in this terrible storm, but none suffered more keenly than did the occupants of the prairie schoolhouses. Innumerable stories stand out in Nebraska history from this event, but none more lasting nor worthy of our digression to mention here than those of three Nebraska country school teachers-Loie ROYCE of Plainfield, Etta SHATTUCK of Holt county, and Minnie FREEMAN of Mira Valley, who were the subjects of much newspaper writing.

Minnie FREEMAN Penney, in Nebraska Pioneer Reminiscenes has told these three stories in such compact form that we can well afford to record them here, in her words:

Miss ROYCE had nine pupils. Six went home for luncheon and remained on account of the storm. The three remaining pupils with the teacher

stayed in the schoolhouse until three o'clock. Their fuel gave out, and as her boarding house was but fifteen rods away, the teacher decided to take the children home with her.

In the fury of the storm they wandered and were lost. Darkness came, and with it death. One little boy sank into eternal silence. The brave little teacher stretched herself out on the cold ground and cuddled the two remaining ones closer. Then the other little boy died and at daylight the spirit of the little girl, aged seven, fluttered away, leaving the young teacher frozen and numb with agony. Loie ROYCE "hath done what she could; angels can do no better." Miss ROYCE lost both feet by amputation.

Etta SHATTUCK, after sending her children home (all living near) tried to go to her home. Losing her way, she took refuge in a haystack, where she remained, helpless and hungry Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, suffering intensely and not able to move. She lived but a short time after her terrible experience.

Those who knew Minnie FREEMAN say she was not seeking any newspaper notoriety, yet it is not amiss to quote from the Lincoln Daily Star of June 17, 1905, which remarked "That as Iowa has her Kate SHELLEY so Nebraska has her Minnie FREEMAN," we may add Minnie FREEMAN Penney's own account of this storm without it seeming to be any inclination on her part to claim undue glory:

Minnie FREEMAN was teaching in Mira Valley, Valley County. She had in charge seventeen pupils. Finding it impossible to remain in the schoolhouse, she took the children with her to her boarding place almost a mile from the schoolhouse.

Words are useless in the effort to portay that journey to the safe shelter of the farmhouse, with the touching obedience to every word of direction-rather felt than heard, in that fierce winding sheet of ice and snow. How it cut and almost blinded them! It was terrible on their eyes. They beat their way onward, groping blindly in the darkness, with the visions of life and death ever before the young teacher responsible for the destiny of seventeen souls.

All reached the farmhouse and were given a nice warm supper prepared by the hostess and the teacher, and comfortable beds provided.

Minnie FREEMAN was unconscious of anything heroic or unusual. Doing it in the simple line of duty to those placed in her care, she still maintains that it was the trust placed in the Great Spirit who guides and cares for His own which led the little band.

Through the desert and illimitable air,
Lone wandering, but not lost.