Page:The works of John Ruskin (IA worksofjohnruski01rusk).pdf/424

324 Gluck's little window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and left in their stead a waste of red sand and grey mud. The two brothers crept shivering and horror-struck into the kitchen. The water had gutted the whole first floor; corn, money, almost ever movable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the kitchen table. On it, in large breezy, long-legged letters, were engraved the words:—