Saint Paul weekly Minnesotian. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1858-1859, 1859-07-30
From the New York Mercury. ..... ..r .,
Jenny WOOd.-.A Thrilling Railroad
Incident.
BY R, EMMETT FISK.

|
when the New York Central Central Railroad
was comparatively in its infancy. In fact, a
| the date of which speak, the road was moi
yet, by any means, completed thoroughfare
! as leading west from the State Capital, it ap
preached no further than the Central City.
1t was day late in the Fall. The autum
nal frosts had long visited forest, and field
| and plain, and the scared leaf, now fallen to
the ground-the withered, crumbling grass
the bare, forsaken branch, dropping and
swaying mournfully in the dirge-like breeze
all evidenced the season as nearly spent,
and as ready, at the first stern command, to
fall helpless into the lap of winter.
For some time the weather had been low
ering, and the atmosphere dull and hazy. 1t
was not cold, but upon the point of change
and seemed to hesitate between the two ex-
trernes. Thus the morning of the day came
and wore away. But as hours passed, and
the bedimmed orb Of day gloOmily traversed
the zenith, and still waning, moved to the far
beyond, the clouds that had been gathering
in the north and west, and spreading their
forbidding panoply underneath the sky, lut-
fed up into black, jagged, and ponderous
masses, exhibiting to the beholder a very
strange and threatening aspect
And soon the storm came. The clouds,
belabored by the angry exercising of the re,
strained elements, burst aSunder their pent-
up bounds, and tornado Of wind, followed
by deluge of rain, fell upon the land, and
swept for many miles over the country
With the coming on of night, the storm con-
tinued, and the rain poured down in unceas-
ing torrents.
While thus the storm furiously ragged over
eastern, and more especially over central New
York, in little, white, vine e-thatched cottage,
high up on the eastern bank Of the Sauquult
Greek, and adjacent to the Central Railroad,
sat Mrs. Wood, widowed lady; and her son
Jenny, bright, intelligent lad OF some
twelve summers.
The fire was burning briskly, and the wild
ow and her son had drawn their chairs clos
10 the genial, comfortable hearth. The moth
er busy piled her knitting, ever and anon
raising her fond, loving gaze from her son,
and peering through the window into the
ptchy darkness beyond. Jenny, engaged
with his own young reflections, and seeming
ly unmindiul Of the rough night, with his
hands locked complacently over his knee.
Was intent in observing the glowing blaze
emitted by the dry hickory limbs, and the
myriad of sparks continually flying up the
cnlinney.
'Jemmy," pronounced the mild, but some
what agitated voice of the widow, as for u
third time she averted the gaze from her son
and directed it towards the window; 'Jeln-
my, do you hear?'
thus addressed, the boy lifted his eyes
slowly from the fire, and encountered the
anxious face of his mother.
What, mother? What is it?
"The roaring and plunging of water
Can it be possible that that is the creek ?"
"Yes, mother, it's the creek-l know it is, !"
said Jenny, sitting back from the cracking
fire and attentively listening. 81 don't ae-
lieve it was ever SO high before. Why, mo-
ther, the water was nearly halfway up the
bridge before dark, when the freight train
passed. 1t was just ready to run through
the tresslework, and it must be good deal
higher now !"
Its dreadful to think Of" said the wild
ow, seriously. There's no telling the extent
of the damage done already. The loss to pro-
p -rty cannot be computed. And | am fear
fnl for the safety OF the bridge. It's danger
must be imminent, and it would be perilous
to venture across it in such a night"
"Yes, mother, think so, too," said Jem-
my, thoughtfully, aud he rose from his chair
and walked to the window He turned his
eye in the direction of the bridge, but it was
in vain he sought to penetrate the nights
| thick gloom-the more than Egyptian dark
ness. He returned to the fire and resumed
his seat.
The widow again began mechanically to
ply her knitting For time, with the 81
lence within unbroken, the two listened to the
heavy and uniform pattering of the rain Oh
4 hal, Of no fraa ga
down the glen," and the unsteady dashing oil
| the swollen waters of the creek.
Suddenly, as if in verihcation of the pre-.
| diction of the widow, there came a heavy
crash, followed by so tremendous shock, that
it rocked the very foundation ofthe little cot
tage!
The widow gave quick nervous start and
then, white and mOiiOness, sank back in her
chair. Jenny sprang to his feet, and caught
his mothers hand. His slight frame trembled
looked upon her pallid face.
Presently sh. recovered from the shock
AS she gained her self. possession, and the dis
NAL wall that had accompanied the blast dice
away in the distance, Jenny asked, in whiS
per:
Mother, was that the bridge ?"
| I'd, my sui, 1 uO UeHcVc IL Was, SAT-
she, and a cold shudder crept over her frame
" The bridge gone, and the passenger trair
from the west due within an hour Tht
thought is horribler'
The widow spoke in hoarse voice. He
heart grew faint within her, as she imagined
fearful ulaccident. lfthe brige was gone, ant
unless something lntervened to prevent, ther
would be a great loss of life-a catastrophe
u.iheard of in the annals of railroading.
Don't be frighted, mother" beseeche'
Jenny, endeavoring to quel her agitation
I'll 60 and see for certain if the bridge is gone
You know, mother, we are the only ones t
, know if it is washed away
The widow was not unmndful Of the plead
ing Of her son !; but she heSit,ted to send hir
forth on so dark and tempestuous night
The sound of manv waters - A.
through the chasln, and the howlings of IL
: storm, filled her bosom with terror whic
, she would fan, but could not, overcome.
"Oh, mother, you must let me 60. Ju
think of it, if the bridge is gone, and we don
0 know it, and nobody makes signal, what
;, awful accident there'll be Do hurry, mot
= er, and get Inc a candle. for the lantern, al
y let me go. There isn't the least danger, al
u | shan't get hurt Bit" g.
And Jenny, taking his mothers silen
= = for consent, put on his cap, turned up |
- - collar, and buttoned his coat tight about
III throat.
The widow summoned up all her resolutio
and produced and lit the lantern. As S
n handed it to her son, she said:
t. "Go, Jenny, 60 quickly, and return wit
ne out delay"
The door closed behind him and the W
re ow, turning to the window, watched the lig
u until it disappeared from view down the slo
For five minutes she watched and waited,
;" nervous trepidation and suspense; and til
RI the still bearing of her heart gave bound,
he the light re-appeared and was rapidly boz
re toward the cottage. A moment elapsed 9
Jenny, his hair dripping, and clothes c1
pletely saturated with water, threw open
IN door, and remained standing with his hand
" the latch.