Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 77, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 June 1903 — Why Uncle Marsh Fears the Thunder. [ARTICLE]

Why Uncle Marsh Fears the Thunder.

Unole Marsh Warner, who fears but few things in this world, says he was soared some when the lightning ripped his hen house and jolted his fat pig dnring a recent Bunday thunder storm, but he didn’t let on that he was Beared, fle says, in faot, that for many years past, hAbas a fear when be hears the thnnder, in spite of himself. Tears ago, when a young man, he was ont west, driving a freighting wagon, or something of that kind. One day, while jolting along, a brisk thunderstorm came up, and he and his companion, another yonng man, stopped their wagons and took refuge under a oonple of trees. Eaoh sitting with his baok to a tree and a little ways apart. Pretty soon there was a loud sharp crash of thnnder. “Gee, but that’s getting pretty dose,” Unole Marsh remarked, but his companion said nothing. In a minute another similar thnnder crash, and Mr, Warner made another similar remark, bnt still his companion did not reply, and be looked over his shoulder to find why his oompanion was so silent. He was stretched out by the tree, and though Unole Marsh carried him ont and let the rain fall in his face, it was no use. The lightning had got in its work, and all that was left for Unole was to load his friend’s body on the wagon and haul it on to the end of the journey, with the rest of the

freight. But that was not what makes Unde nervous a little when the thunder gets near. That w&s an inoident that would jar most men some but Uncle’s nerves were strong and he thought but little about the matter. It was another event which occurred right here in Rensselaer one July morning 12 or 15 years ago, that made him always thereafter shiver a little when the thunder crashes near. Lightning struok a house whioh stood south of the court house and on the lot where Fisher’s big feed barn now stands, and killed a little boy, right before bis mother’s eyes. Unde Marsh sat in his store door, diagonally aoross the street, and he was the first to reaoh the house, and he pioked up and carried out the little boy into the rain, in hopes to revive him. But it was a vain hope, for the lightning had again done its fatal work. That ohild’s dead body and that mother’s awful grief, is what ails Unde Marsh’s nerves to this day when the thunder storm draws near.