Jule Fisher's Rescue.
It had been an unusually severe winter, even for Northern Aroostook. Snow-fall had succeeded snow-fall, with no interval that could really be called "thaw," till the "loggers" had finished their work; and as they come plodding home on snow shoes, they all agreed that the snow lay from ten to twelve feet deep on a level in the woods.
No wonder, then, that the warm March sun came to shine upon it day after day, and the copious spring showers fell, there should have been a very unusual "flood," or freshet. Every one predicted that when the ice should break in the river, there would be a grand spectacle, and danger, too, as well; and all waited with some anxiety for the "break" to come.
One morning, we at the village were awakened by a deep, roaring, booming, crashing noise, and sprang from our beds, crying:
"The ice has broken up! The ice is running out!"
In hardly more time than it takes to tell it, we were dressed and at the back windows, which looked down upon the river!
It was indeed a grand sight!
Huge cakes of ice of every shape and size were driving, tumbling, crashing past, as if in a mad race with each other. The river, filled to overflowing, seemed in angry haste to hurl its icy burden down the falls below.