The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-12-30

I served with the fleet, of course,
while the war lasted, and when it was
over, went wandering off again, re-
joicing in my liberty. This time I
went to Canada, and, after working
on a railway then in progress near
the American frontier, ] presently
passed over into the States; Journey
ed from North to South; crossed the
Rocky Mountains; tried month or
two Of life in the gold country; and
then, being seized with q sudden,
aching, unaccountable longing to
revisit that solitary grave so far away
on the Italian coast, turned my face
once more towards Europe
Poor little grave! | found it rank
with weeds, the cross half shattered,
the inscription half effaced. It was
as if no one had loved him or remem-
bered him. Iwent back to the house
in which we had lodged together.
The same people were still living
there, and made me kindly welcome.
/ stayed with them for some weeks.
1 weeded, and planted, and trimmed
the grave with my own hands, and
set up o fresh cross in pure white
marble. 1t was the first season of
rest that / had known since 1 laid
him there; and when ut last / shoul-
dered my knapsuck and set forth
again to battle with the world, 1
promised myself that, God willing,
L would creep bacl to Rocca, when
my days drew near to ending, and be
buried by his side.
From hence, being, perhaps, a
little less inclined than formerly for
very distant parts, and willing to keep
within reach of that grave, l went no
farther than Mantua, where engaged
myself as an engine-drivcr on the
line then not long completed, between
that city and Venice. Somehow,
although L had been trained to the
working engineering, 1 preferred in
these days to earn my bread by driv-
ing. / liked the excitement of it,
the sense of power, the rush of the
air, the roar Of the fire, the fitting
of the landscape. Above all, l en-
ioyed to drive night express. The
worse the weather, the better it
suited with my sullen temper. For
[ was as hard, and harder than ever.
The years had done nothing to soften
me. They had only confirmed all
that was blacklist and bitterest in nv
heart.
1 continued pretty faithful to the
Mantua line, and had been working
on it steadily for more than seven
months, when that which l am about
to relate took place.
1t was in the month of March.
The weather had been unsettled for
some days past, and the nights
stormy; and at one point along the
line, near Ponte di Brcnta, the
waters had risen and swept away
some seventy yards of embankment.
Since this accident, the trains had
been obliged to stop alta certain spot
between Padua and Ponte Iii BRENT.
and the passengers, with their lug
gage, had thence to be transported in
all kinds Of vehicles, by circuitous
country road, to the nearest station
on the other side of the gap, where
another train and engine awaited
them.
This, of course, caused great con
fusion and annoyance, put all our
timetables wrong, and subjected the
public to large amount of inconve-
nience. In the meanwhile an army
of navies was drafted tothe spot. and
worked day and night to repair the
damage. At this timeI was driving
two through trains each namely:
one from Mantua to Venice in the
early morning, and return train
from Venice to Mantua in the after
noon-a tolerably full days work,
covering about one hundred and
ninety miles of ground, and occupy
ing between ten and eleven hours. 7
was therefore not best pleased when,
on the third or fourth day after the
accident, [ was informed that, in ad-
dltlon to my regular allowance Of
work, I should that evening be re-
CURED to drive Il special train to
Venice. This special train, consist
ing Of an engine, IL single carriage,
and break-van, was to leave the
Mantua platform at eleven; at Padua
the passengers were to alight and find
post-chaises waiting to convey them
to Ponte di Brenta; at Ponte di
Brenta another engine, carriage and
break-van were to be in readiness.
was charged to accompany them
throughout.
"Corpo di Bacco," said the clerk
who gave me my orders, "you need
not look so black, man. You are
certain of q handsome gratuity. Do