1917 History
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One of the annoyances the early settlers of Emmet County had to
contend
with was the great number of mosquitoes that infested the country.
Before the swamps and ponds were drained they formed a veritable
breeding ground for these little pests. As evening approached
they would besiege the cabin in swarms and make life a burden to the
pioneer and his family. Wire screens had not then been invented for
doors and windows, and even if they had been many of the early settlers
were too poor to afford them. The only method of combating the insects
was to build a fire or "smudge," which was fed at intervals with moist
grass or some other fuel that would produce a great amount of smoke
without much flame. The mosquito does not like a smoky atmosphere and
would do without his supper rather than pass through it to dine off the
pioneer's family. The smoke caused some coughing and watery eyes, but
it kept the mosquitoes away. Young girls on the frontier found it
difficult to maintain a clear complexion, for they either had to be
smoked to the color of a Sioux Indian or have their faces covered with
mosquito bites, which gave them the appearance of having a mild case of
small pox. As one old settler expressed it some years later: "It's a
wonder the women of Northwestern Iowa had any complexion left."
During the summer of 1858 the mosquitoes were especially vicious in
their attacks upon the settlers. The following February, while George
Granger one mild day was walking along a ravine between his house and
the Des Moines River, he saw myriads of the insects swarming out of the
hazel brush, as though getting ready to prepare for another season's
campaign. Mr. Granger gave that ravine the name of "Mosquitoes' Winter
Quarters" - a name by which it was known to the pioneers for several
years.
Charles R. Aldrich, at one time clerk of the lower house of the
Iowa
Legislature and a prominent member of the State Historical Society,
used to tell a story of a dog belonging to Judge Hickey of Palo Alto
County. The dog was not allowed to sleep in the house, but when the
mosquito smudge was built of an evening he would get within range of
the smoke, which he discovered would keep the mosquitoes off of him.
When the family retired for the night, the dog would lie down close to
the smudge and drop off to sleep. Later in the night the fire would
burn low and the insects would wake the dog by their buzzing in his
ears. Then the dog would rekindle the smudge by pushing the remnants of
the brands together with his nose. Someone who heard Mr. Aldrich tell
the story
suggested that it could be improved upon by having the dog carry chunks
of wood or mouthfuls of grass to replenish the fire. To this Mr.
Aldrich replied: "He may have done so as far as I know, but I
tell the story as I got it."
Among the early settlers of Emmet County was one Martin Metcalf, who
was the first preacher to settle in the county. He
was not a profound scholar, but his faith was of that kind that is
said to be able "to move mountains." One day while he was making maple
suger in a grove on his claim, he thought he smelled a skunk in a
hollow log near by. As skunk skins were worth something in the fur
market Mr. Metcalf decided he would add the pelt of that particular
animal to his collection. Upon investigating the hollow log he found,
instead of the expected skunk, three or four iron camp kettles of the
kind used by soldiers when on a campaign. They had
probably been lefi there by the volunteers while on the expedition
against the murderous Inkpaduta. Telling a neighbor about his good luck, Mr. Metcalf claimed that the
kettles were sent by the Lord, who could work miracles as well in
modern as in ancient times.
"But why do you attribute the gift to the
Lord?" asked the neighbor. "Because," replied Metcalf, "He saw my need of more kettles
in my sugar camp, and, knowing the kettles were in the log, caused me to imagine I smelled a skunk."
But when he undertook to clean up the kettles so they would be fit for
use, he found them so badly rusted as to be actually worthless. The
neighbor, who evidently was riot of a very religious turn of mind, then
twitted the preacher about his miracle, but Mr. Metcalf was silent on
the subject. Another story is told about this Metcalf. He was not
plentifully supplied with this world's goods and on one occasion the
settlers took up a collection to buy him a cow and a pair of new
shoes. It is said he found fault because the collection was not
large enough to enable him to buy a pair of boots. What finally
became of him is not known.
While O. C. Bates and E. B. Northrop were editors of the Vindicator,
the first newspaper to be published in the county, one number of the
paper contained an article claiming that the word "blizzard" was coined
by a man named Ellis, who was called "Lightning Ellis" because he was
so slow in performing everything he undertook. At
that time the publi cation office of the Northern Vindicator was in
the officers' quarters of old Fort Defiance. Ellis, in commenting
upon a great storm in the late '60s, used the expression that it was a
"regular blizzard." As this was the first time the
editors had ever heard the term, they gave Ellis credit for its
authorship, though the Vindicator's claim has since been questioned
by several commentators on the subject.
About dusk on the evening of Saturday, November 13, 1869, the
people
of Estherville were startled by hearing three shots in rapid succession
in the rear of the new building that had just been erected by E. B.
Northrop and Dr. E. H. Ballard. Several persons hurried to the
spot and found the body of F. E. Line with three bullets in it. The
skull was also fractured. Mr. Line was one of the early settlers in
what is now Ellsworth Township. It was not known that he had an enemy
and his murder remains a mystery to this day.
One of the things that early settlers in Northwestern Iowa learned to
dread was a fire on the prairie. How these fires started was often a
mystery. The theory advanced by some writers that they were started by
Indians for the purpose of driving out the game might apply to fires
farther back in the past, but this theory is hardly tenable in
connection with those that occurred after the red men had left the
country. It is far more probable that the prairie fires of later days
were caused by carelessness. The dropping of a burning match, the
emptying of a tobacco pipe, or the throwing away of the stump of a
cigar by some traveler might start a fire that would destroy
thousands of dollars' worth of property. In a few instances the
origin of a prairie fire can be traced to the action of some pioneer
who tried the experiment of burning off the rank grass, in order that his ground might be the more easily
plowed, the fire having got beyond his control.
As the wild prairie was brought under cultivation, prairie fires
became less frequent. On October 3, 1871, a fine started in the
northern
part of Clay County and swept over the southern part of Emmet and the
northwestern part of Palo Alto. The damage in Emmet County amounted to
over ten thousand dollars and more than a score of families lost their
entire winter supplies.
One of the latest and most destructive prairie fires in Emmet County
started in Lincoln Township on Sunday night, October 30, 1887.
Patrick Bagan lost seventy tons of hay, a corn-crib full of corn, 200
bushels of oats, eighty bushels of wheat and all his barns and
outbuildings. Fred Schultz lost his house and barn and barely escaped
with his life while trying to save some of his effects. Others in the
neighborhood lost grain and hay, but the heaviest losses fell on Mr.
Bagan and Mr. Schultz.
Early in the '70s the women's crusade against saloons started in
the
East and gradually wended its way westward. There has always been a
strong temperance sentiment in Emmet County, though saloons were
tolerated at times because the law allowed them to exist. At the
beginning of 1872 there were two saloons in Estherville. Some
complaints were heard now and then that they were not always conducted
in
a lawful and orderly manner, and on February 16, 1872, a number of the
women of the town held a meeting and decided that it was time to
inaugurate the crusade. About twenty-five of them marched to the
saloons, but unlike their sisters of the East, they did not depend
upon
hymns and prayers to break up the saloon. Into the dram shops they
boldly marched, broke bottles and jugs containing liquor, rolled casks
into the streets, where they were emptied, and advised the saloon
keeper that the same thing would occur again if he ventured to reopen
his place. Some resistance was offered to the drastic methods of the
crusaders, but the women made no apologies and returned to their homes,
firm in the conviction that they had done a good day's work.
Old residents can recall the grasshopper invasions of early years -
invasions that threatened to render a large part of the country barren
and uninhabitable. As early as 1868 the voracious insects appeared in
large numbers in several of the counties southeast of Emmet, and in the
valleys of the Big Sioux and Floyd rivers, but it was not until five
years later that the scourge reached Emmet County.
About noon on June 4, 1873, the grasshoppers came in swarms and within
a few hours the surface of the earth was covered with them. Mr. and
Mrs. J. W. Harrison, living in the eastern part of the county, spread a
sheet under a small cottonwood bush, only seven or eight feet in
height, then shook the bush, catching enough "hoppers" to fill a large
candy bucket about two-thirds full. The incident is mentioned here to
show how thick the insects were. Growing crops were absolutely
destroyed and many citizens of the county were rendered destitute.
Donations from charitable people all over the country were sent in to
relieve the grasshopper sufferers, and, as is frequently the case in
such events, charges of misappropriation were common, though most of
the donations reached the destination for which they were intended.
Various methods were resorted to for ridding the country of the pests,
one of the most common of which was to coat a steel scraper with tar
and drag it through the grass. The grasshoppers would stick to
the tar, after which they were burned.
The second serious invasion of grasshoppers came in the summer of 1876.
This time it was more widespread, practically all the western states
being affected. A writer on the subject says: "In Wyoming, Western
Nebraska, Texas, the Indian Territory and New Mexico, the broods were
annually hatched. In their native haunts they attained an enormous
size, many specimens being three inches in length. Scientific men who
have studied the habits of the grasshopper state that each succeeding
brood degenerates in size and after three or four generations the
weaker are obliged to swarm and seek other quarters, being driven out
by the larger and stronger insects. These exiles rise and go with
the wind, keeping the direction in which they first started, stopping
in their flight for subsistence and depositing eggs in a prolific
manned during the incubating season, which lasts from the middle of
June to the middle of September.
Not only was the scourge of 1876 more widespread that any of previous
years, but it was also more devastating in its character. Scarcely a
green plant of any description was left in the wake of the army of
"hoppers." Many of the settlers who had been obliged to mortgage their
homes to carry them over the loss of their crops three years before,
gave up the fight, disposed of their farms for any price they could
get, and left for other parts of the country. Some localities were
almost entirely depopulated and the few who remained were left in
straitened circumstances. An appeal was made to the Legislature, then
in session, and a bill was passed appropriating $50,000 for the relief
of those whose crops had been destroyed. On October 25, 1876, a meeting
of the governors of the western states and prominent scientists was
held at Omaha, Ne braska, to devise means of exterminating the
insects. Numerous and varied were the plans proposed to rid the country of the grasshoppers.
The following plan, which was proposed by a writer in the Sioux City
Journal, seemed to be the one which could be applied at slight expense
and was therefore rather popular:
"The grasshopper deposits its eggs at the roots of the grass in the
latter part of summer or early autumn. The eggs hatch out early in the
spring and during the months of April, May and June, according as the
season is early or late; they are wingless, their sole power of
locomotion being the hop. To destroy them, all that is needed is for
each county, town or district to organize itself into a fire brigade
throughout the district where the eggs are known to be deposited.
This fire brigade shall see that the prairies are not burned over in
the fall, and thus they will have the grass for the next spring and
to be employed upon the pests while they are yet hoppers - the means of
sure death. To apply it
let all agree upon a certain day, say in April or May, or at any time
when they are sure all the hoppers are hatched and none yet winged. All
being ready, let every person, man, woman and boy, turn out with
torches and simultaneously fire the whole prairie, and the work, if
well done, will destroy the whole crop of grasshoppers for that year,
and none will be left to 'soar their gossamer wings' or lay eggs for
another year."
All this sounded plausible and the remedy was tried in several
localities, but the crop of hoppers for 1877 did not seem to be
diminished
in the least, even in the districts where the prairie was burned bare.
The State of Minnesota offered a bounty of so much per bushel and
actually paid out a large sum of money in such bounties. The only
benefit derived from this course was that the bounty money assisted
some of the settlers by remunerating them in a slight degree for the
loss of their crops. After 1877 the country was not again plagued by
the grasshoppers, or more properly speaking, the Rocky Mountain locusts.
Cyrus C. Carpenter, who was governor of Iowa in 1876, and who attended the conference of governors and scientists at Omaha, afterward wrote a history of the grasshopper invasion, which was published in Volume IV of the Annals of Iowa. In his article he quotes the following letter from J. M. Brainard, who at the time of the invasion of 1873 was editor of the Story County Aegis:
"That fall I made frequent trips over the Northwestern road from my
home to Council Bluffs, and the road was not a very perfect one. at
that time, either in roadbed or grades. One day, it was well along in
the afternoon, I was going westward and by the time we had reached
Tiptop (now Arcadia) the sun had got low and the air slightly cool, so
that the hoppers clustered on the rails, the warmth being grateful to
them. The grade at Tiptop was pretty stiff, and our train actually came
to a standstill on the rails greased by the crushed bodies of the
insects. This occurred more than once, necessitating the engineer to back for a
distance and then make a rush for foe summit, liberally sanding the
track as he did so. I think I made a note of it for my paper, for in
1876, on visiting my old Pennsylvania home, a revered uncle took me to
task for the improbable statement, and when I assured him of its
truthfulness he dryly remarked, 'Ah, John, you have lived so long in
the West that I fear you have grown to be as big a liar as any of
them.' "
Says Governor Carpenter: "The fact that railroad trains were
impeded
may seem a strange phenomenon. But there was a cause for the great
number of grasshoppers that drifted to the railroad track hinted at by
Mr. Brainard. Those who studied their habits observed that they were
fond of warmth, even heat. The fence enclosing a field where they were
'getting in their work' indicated the disposition of the grasshopper.
Towards evening the bottom boards on the south side of the fence
would be covered with them, hanging upon them like swarms of bees. When
the suggestion of the autumn frosts began to cool the atmosphere, the
grasshoppers would assemble at the railroad track and hang in swarms on
the iron rails which had been warmed by the rays of the sun."
Toward the close of the summer of 1877 the locusts made their final
flight. Their going was as unexpected and mysterious as their coming,
but it was far more welcome. And the settlers breathed a sigh of relief
when they discovered the following spring that the number of eggs
deposited by the insects the previous season was comparatively small,
so
small in fact that the number of grasshoppers left to prey upon the
crops of 1878 was not sufficient to cause serious damage.
On January 5, 1877, the board of supervisors of Emmet County
unanimously adopted the following:
"Resolved, That in view of the fact that the crops of all kinds have
for the past three years proved almost a total failure in this county,
by reason of the grasshopper invasion, and in view of the further fact
that in consequence of the vast number of eggs deposited, there is no
reasonable probability of a crop the coming season, lands having
depreciated in value more than 100 per cent. within the period of four
years, reducing many of our taxpaying citizens to a condition of
poverty, rendering them incapable of meeting their obligations for farm
machinery or annual taxes, the board of supervisors, by a unanimous
vote, have for the reasons above noted determined to fix the value of
real property at a lower figure than in any previous year.
"And the board of supervisors would most respectfully call the
attention of the state board of equalization to the subject matter of
this resolution and request the said board to give the above facts
their due consideration in equalizing the assessment of 1877, and the
auditor is instructed to forward a copy thereof to the secretary of the
state board of equalization, to be by him presented to the said board."
About four o'clock on the afternoon of Saturday, May 10, 1879, an
aerolite fell on the farm of Sever H. Lee, in Section 35, Emmet
Township. A writer describing the phenomenon says the fall of the
meteor was accompanied by "a terrible sound resembling the boom of a
great cannon, the crack o' doom, or some other unusual rattle, followed
by a rumbling noise as of a train of cars crossing a bridge. The
explosion shook houses at different points fifty or seventy-five miles
distant."
The aerolite landed upon the edge of a slough just east of the Barber
schoolhouse. People living in the neighborhood saw a
smoke and at first thought the schoolhouse or some of the buildings on
Mr. Lee's farm were on fire. Repairing to the spot they saw a depression from which the smoke was
emerging and a party was soon organized to dig for the
meteor. At a depth of fourteen feet they came upon
two pieces, one·of which weighed 431 pounds and the other 32
pounds. About the same time a third piece, weighing
151 pounds, was found on the farm of Amos Pingrey, west of the Des
Moines River, and the following winter another piece, weighing over 100
pounds, was found in Dickinson County. The finding of these several pieces showed that the meteor came from the
southwest and along its course a number of smaller pieces were found by
different parties. Those small pieces were almost pure ore and had the
appearance of being "drops" that had melted from the main body on its
flight. It was estimated that the total weight of the aerolite was not
far from one thousand pounds.
Professor Hinrichs, of the Iowa State University, came up from Iowa
City at his own expense when he heard of the fall of the meteor and
made an examination of the larger pieces. He pronounced it a very rare
and valuable specimen, containing iron, nickel, phosphorus, sulphur, and
some component parts unknown to the scientists of this planet. Governor
Pillsbury, of Minnesota, sent Professor Thompson, of the University of
Minnesota, to Estherville to investigate and if possible obtain a piece
of the aerolite for the University Museum. He bought the 151-pound
piece found on the farm of Mr. Pingrey and it is still in the museum of
the university.
A peculiar legal transaction grew out of the falling of this
aerolite. At that time quite a number of the settlers in
Emmet County held their lands on contract made with speculators, the
substance of which was that when they had paid a certain amount a deed
would be executed and they would be given a clear
title. Sever H. Lee had bought his farm from C. P.
Birge, of Keokuk, on this kind of a contract and was somewhat behind
in his payments when the aerolite landed on his farm. Mr. Birge,
hearing of the incident, came at once to Estherville and commenced
proceedings against Mr. Lee to forfeit his contract. The court
decided in his favor, which made him the legal owner of the land at the
time the aerolite fell, and which gave him possession of the pieces
found upon the Lee farm. The larger piece was finally sold by Mr.
Birge to the Imperial Museum at Vienna, Austria, where it has since
been seen by several Estherville people while abroad. Mr. Birge also
bought several of the smaller pieces that fell from the meteor during
its flight, paying in some instances as high as seventy-five cents an
ounce for them. These he afterward disposed of at a profit, no doubt to
scientific institutions and societies. After gaining possession of the
aerolite, Mr. Birge reinstated Mr. Lee's contract and gave him a deed
for the farm.
The small pieces picked up along the course of the meteor's flight were highly malleable, and some
of the citizens of Emmet County are still wearing rings, watch charms,
etc., made from meteoric ore. In fact the ore in the larger pieces was
also malleable, though no use was made of it, as in the case of the
small fragments, the value of the aerolite being far greater as a
scientific curiosity. It is regretted by many Iowa people that so
interesting a specimen should not have been kept in the state.
On several occasions Emmet County has suffered severe losses through
the destruction of propety by fire. The burning of the publication
office of the Estherville Democrat on March 22, 1895; the plant of the
Estherville Enterprise on March 26, 1914; the Rock Island Railroad
depot on May 13, 1909; and the store of the Miller Mercantile Company
at Gruver on October 11, 1909, are noticed in other chapters of this
work. But there were two fires that stand out with more prominence
than any of the others and are therefore entitled to more than passing
mention.
The first of these was the burning of the Coon Block, on the south
east corner of Sixth and Lincoln streets on the night of December 26,
1904. The fire is supposed to have originated in the Byfield Bakery and
was discovered about 10 o'clock P. M. by some passersby. A call was
immediately sent in for the fire company, the members of which
responded promptly, but the mercury stood at. 6° below zero and it was
a
difficult matter to "lay out a line of hose." There were several
persons rooming in the building and the flames made such rapid progress
that they were rescued with difficulty. A slight wind was blowing
and the fire was soon communicated to the adjoining buildings. Just
south of the Coon Block was the Lincoln Hotel, kept by Samuel
Campbell. It was soon seen that the hotel was doomed and the
guests were routed from their warm beds without ceremony, some of them
in their excitement rushing into the street clad in nothing but their
night clothes. The
cold atmosphere drove them back, however, and most of them saved all
their belongings.
The Estherville Democrat of the next day estimated the total loss at
from $160,000 to $200,000. Altogether ten buildings were burned, most
of them being frame structures of comparatively little value.
According to the Democrat's estimate, the principal losses were as
follows: H. C. Coon, $90,000; Shadle & Sons, $20,000; Vindicator
& Republican, $20,000; Bemis Brothers, $10,000. There were rumors that the fire was
the work of an incendiary, but they were never substantiated. Where the
old buildings were burned now stand structures of brick, making that
corner one of the best improved in the city.
The second great fire in Estherville occurred on Monday, January 8,
1917, when the Grand Theater Building was totally destroyed. The
building, which was conceded to be the finest in the city, had been
erected the preceding summer and the theater was opened to the public
on the evening of September 20, 1916. On the north side of the theater
auditorium was a large business room, in which the owner, Frederick
H. Graaf, conducted a cafeteria. In the rooms over the cafeteria lived
Mr. Graaf and his family.
About half past two in the afternoon Elmer Fox, one of Mr. Graaf's
employees, came up out of the basement and at that time there was no
sign of fire. Two minutes later the girls working
behind the counters were compelled to make a hasty exit to get away from
the suffocating gas that filled the cafeteria. Then
came a dense volume of smoke from the basement. No explosion was heard and the flames were not so
bad, so far as could be seen, but the gas and smoke that filled the
building were unbearable. The fire department was
called; but the men could not enter the building for fear of
asphyxiation. No doubt much of the contents of the
cafeteria, theater and living rooms of Mr. Graaf could have been saved
had it not been for the poisonous gas.
Soon the fire burned through the floor and from that time made rapid
headway. For a time it was thought that the buildings
in that square, fronting on Sixth Street, were doomed, but the firemen
succeeded in confining the fire to the theater building, though some of
the adjoining stocks of goods, etc., were damaged by smoke and
water. The Estherville Enterprise
of the 10th
estimated Mr. Graaf's loss at $175,000. Other estimated losses were:
The H. B. Lawrence Clothing Company, $10,000; Carl Olson, jeweler,
$6,000; Erickson's art studio, $1,000; Dr. A. Ivey's dental office, a
total loss; the Graves & Espeset Abtract Company, slightly damaged
by smoke and water; the tenants in the second story of the State Bank
Building, just north of the theater, suffered a similar fate. Mr. Graaf
carried about seventy thousand dollars of insurance upon the
building and his stock of goods.
The Grand Theater was one of Estherville's "show places." It is seldom
that a so well equipped theater is seen in a city of four thousand
population. The Enterprise,
in commenting upon the fire and its aftermath, said: "On the street
that evening Henry Graaf was the most composed and best braced up man
in the bunch. It hurt all right, but Hank
was game. Architect Nason told him in a crowd that if he wanted to
build again the plans would be furnished absolutely free of charge. To
this remark he quickly got the response from Mr. Graaf: 'She will go up
better than before.' "
Two of Emmet County's citizens rose to prominence in state
politics.
William F. McFarland was born in Posey County, Indiana, in 1848, of
Scotch parentage. When he was about six years of age he came with his
parents to Iowa, settling in Van Buren County. There he attended the
public schools and afterward went to the Wesleyan University for a few
terms. He then went to California, where he studied law and was
admitted to the bar. In 1885 he returned to Iowa, located at
Estherville
and bought an interest in the Northern Vindicator. In 1888 he was
elected to represent the district composed of Palo Alto, Emmet and
Dickinson counties in the lower branch of the Iowa Legislature. On
Novem ber 4, 1890, he was elected secretary of state and was twice
reelected, holding the office for six years. Mr. McFarland was a
prominent Mason and an Odd Fellow and was the only man ever elected to
a state office from Emmet County.
George E. Delevan, who was for some time editor of the Vindicator,
was
appointed state fish commissioner on March 15, 1894, by Gov. Frank D.
Jackson. When the Legislature of 1897 abolished the office of fish
commissioner and created the office of state fish and game warden, Mr.
Delevan was appointed by Gov. Francis M. Drake to the new position,
which he held until April 1, 1901. Mr. Delevan made a splendid record
as the state fish and game warden. He resigned from the position
chiefly
on account of the health of his son - a graduate of Grinnell
College - and
went to California. There the son recovered his health and is now
practicing law at Los Angeles, where George E. Delevan is living
practically retired.
In 1897 the Iowa Legislature passed an act empowering county boards of
supervisors to levy a tax of one mill on the dollar, after the
proposition had been submitted to the voters of the county at a
regularor special election, for the purpose of building a soldiers'
monument to commemorate the gallant deeds of the "Boys in Blue" in the
War of 1861-65. The proposition to levy such a tax was submitted to the
electors of Emmet County at the general election in November, 1898, and
it was defeated by a vote of 196 to 180. Some years later the Fort
Defiance Monument, on the north end of the public square, was erected
by the Daugh rs of the American Revolution.
Several cases of persons being frozen to death during one of the
blizzards common to Northwestern Iowa are on record. One of the saddest
of these was the death of Ole Knudtson, a boy of some fourteen
years, and a son of one of the early settlers. His father, Tolliff
Knudtson, came to Emmet County soon after the Civil war and located on
a quarter section of land about two miles southwest of
Estherville. On Sunday, Jan uary 18, 1870, Ole started out to look at
some traps, the farthest of which was about a mile from the house. Soon
after he left home a snow storm came up and increased in intensity so
rapidly that the boy was unable to find his way back. His parents,
strange to say, felt no uneasiness. They knew their son was a hardy
little fellow, who had demonstrated on previous occasions that he was
able to take care of himself. His father and mother therefore thought
he had taken shelter with a neighbor for the night. When inquiries were
made the next morning, and it was learned that none of the neighbors
knew anything of his whereabouts, a search was instituted. That
afternoon his body was found by his father. Un able to find his way
home through the blinding snow, he had perished in the
storm.