Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1860-06-21
Life Upon a Railroad.

1 have no enemies, / undoubtedly have a
few, and I don't think there is man that
lives but has more or less. A little kindness
now and then to the many needing ones a
conductor will find almost every trip over
his road, will not be lost, and he will, in
many cases find from his "bread cast upon
the waters" a return fourfold. Yet he must
use great deal OF judgment in besto wing
his charity upon even those he thinks en-
tirely worthy of such bestowal. ! will, in
connection, relate little incident BY which
a little kindIess saved my life, and the lives
of all the passengers on board my train.
The w estern division Of our road runs
through very mountainous par; of Virginia
and the stations were few and far between.
About three miles from one Of these stations
the road runs through deep gorge Of the
Blue Ridge. and near The center is a small
valley, and there. hemmed in BY the ever
lasting hills, stood a small one and a half
story cabin. The lew acres that surrounded
it were well cultivated Us garden, and
upon the fruits thereof lived a widow and
her three children, by the name Of Graft
They were, indeed, untutored in the cold
charities OF an outside world. doubt much
if they ever saw the sun shine beyond their
own native hills. In the summer time the
children brought berries to the nearest sta
,ion to 20 and with the money they earn
ed they bobgh: few of the necessities Of
the Outside treatment. The Oldest Of these
children should Judge to be about twelve
years, and the youngest about seven. They
we're all girls, and looked nice and clean,
and their heal,hiul appearance and natural
delicacy gave them hearty welcome
Thev appeated as II they had been brough,
up ID fear God, and love their humble home
and mother. have often stopped my train
aud let them 90 off at their home, having
found them at the station three miles from
home, after disposing of their berries. had
children al home, and | knew their little
feet would be tired in walking three miles
and therefore felt that it would be the same
with these fatherless little ones. They
seemed pleased to ride, and lhatked me with
such hearty thanks, after letting them of
near home. They frequently offered me
nice, tempting baskets of frnit for my kind
ness, yet never accepted any without pay
ing their full value.
Now, if | remember, the winter Of 1885,
was very cold in that part OF the Slate, ant
the snow was nearly. three feet deep in thu
mountains.
On the night Of the 26th Of December o
that year. it turned around warm and tn
rain fell in torrents. A terrible storm swep
the mountain tops, and almost filled III
valleys with water. Upon that night m
train was winding it's way and at its usua
speed around the hills and through the val
leys, and as the road bed was all solid rock
| had no fear Of the banks giving out. Th
nj yht was intensely dark, and the win
moaned ptsously through the deep gorge
of the mountains. Some of my passenger
were trying to sleep, others were talking !
a low voice, to relieve the monoony Of tn
scene. Mothers had their children upo
their knees, as if to shield them from som
! unknown danger without
It was. near midnight when sharp whit
tie from the engine brought me to my fee
knew there was danger in that whistle
and sprang to the brakes at once, but ii
' brakesmen we're at their posts, and soon Il
train was brought to q stop. | seized u
I lantern and found mp way forward as soc
Q as possible, when what sight met my gnz
t A bright fire OF pine logs Illuminated Il
# track for some distance, and not over for
e rods ahead our train a horrible gulf hi
q opened its nav to receive US.
j. The snow. together with the rain, h
9 torn the whole side Of the mountain out, a
n eternity itself seemed spread out before I
q The widow Graft and her children had fou
!, Il out, and had brought light brush fro
Is their home below, and built large fires
ID warn US of our danger. They had been the
1t two hours, watching beside that beacon
id safety. Az went up there the old Ia
y and children stood, drenched through by
: rain and sleet; she grasped me by the ha
At and cried: "Hi''i "N d" ''
,e sThank God, Mr.. Sherbourn, we stopr
ID you this time! | would have lost my
10 before one hair o. your head should h'
ID been hurt. Oh, I prayed to heaven Il
e. we might stop the train, and Oh my Goo
ge thank rhee'' -7s... 9.l. 90. s..r.ts
OF The childreti we're crying for joy. C
fess / don't tery often pray, but did Il
and there. knelt down by the eide of t
ny good old woman, and offered up thanks
u, an All Wise Being for our safe delivera
DO from terrible death, and called down BIZ
e" ngs innumerable upon that good old wor
we and her children. Near by stood the,ens
sal eer, fremen and brakesman, the t.
ice streaming down their bronzed cheeks.
II / Immediately prevailed upon Mrs. G
yea and the children to go back into the cars
nd, of the storm and cold. After reaching
Inc care. | related our bair-bredth escape,
ust to whom we are indebted for our lives,
'he begged the men passengers to go forv
'aN and see for themselves. They needed
gn' further urging, and great many adies Y
TN also, regardless Of the storm. They
ose returned, and their pale faces gave full
a dence of the frightful death we had es
ere ed. The ladies and gentlemen We'd
ave each other in their thanks and heartfelt
en- i,ude toward Mrs. Graf and hei chill
Is and assured her that they would never
'srd er forget her, and before the widow lef
any cars she was presented with purse ol
{ We hundred& sixty .dollarsthe voluntary off
on Of a whole train Of grateful passengers.
lude refused the proffered gift for a long tim,