The liberty bell and workingmen's advocate., 1867-03-07

nice work, must say but one grows 10 De proud of the great things that dot the wharves along the nasty creek. To me an elevator always seemed monster, restless with hungry life: and we poor fellows did nothing but tend to its wants running up and down stairs through clouds of choking dust and deafened with the din of rattllng machinery-no light job. can assure you, seeing that an elevator is seven. eight, ten stories high, and big enough to hold the houses of a small village. An, they are won derful things, those elevators! And now that I am away from them feel the strength of their size and what little thing was in such a place. Then the rattle of the cups going up or down with their fill of grain made music to my ears, and started many a queer thought through my mind as l went through my hours of day or night work. It was strange to see how quick their armies of banded cups would drink to emptiness car or vessel loaded with grain, and carry 1t up to giddy nights to be tunnbled into huge bins. These bins, sir, are 40 to 60 feet deep, and funnel elshaped at the bottom, where there is a sort of valve or gate, which, when opened, lets the grain into spout. If gate is low cred when bin has six or seven thousand bushels in it, you can judge, sir, that there ! would be a whirlpool that would suck down | the strongest man to horrible death. l Wonderful, terrible monsters these elevators, with their humps of houses on their roofs,
 
 dismal, dusty chasms ofempty bins. It makes me sick to think of them now. The man really did look a little winter in the face and nervously fingered the empty ! sleeve of his jacket; but he was over with the feeling in minute, and went on with his story
 II had been at work about week in one of the largest of these elevators, when, one afternoon, was sent in company with anoth- CT laborer a big, whiskered, swearing, rutfian fellow. to tend to another bin that was about to be emptied We were sitting on the edge of the bin, waiting for the grain to run, when my companion, who seemed to be under the | influence of liquor, called out: "' I say, Miker . "As have said. the fellow was ruffian in appearance. He seemed to have quite a liking for me- as he tried to be with me in my work as much as possible but couldn't bear him, and did everything to be rid of him. He knew my name well enough, and it angered me to have him call me in this way; so l said sharply:
 My name is not Mike!'
 ". How should know?' he asked, looking angrily into my face, as if he wished to make me quarrel with him.
 You have heard it more than once said. You know very we'll what it is, Joe | and there's no sense in giving man name as doesn't belong to him.
 Then don't call me Joe! That ain't my name It's counterfeit I'm Tom, which is 1 better name
 He had a piece of chalk in his hand, and | began to print with it on the big beam where we were sitting. Tom, Tom, he scratched 1 in large scraggly letters all the while, look ing at me from under his heavy eyebrows l Then he made B, and rubbed his hand across it as soon as it made
 "' Bob, it's a long way down there. point 1 ing into the halffilled bin.
 1 Twenty feet, perhaps
 l "Twouldn't kill man. the fall, eh ]? moving 1 closer to me.
 "sNoP
 "'But it's good as water to drown him il | the grain be moving and the dust and chaf | hyingf
 | "' He wouldn't live long, that's surer r. "'Then % down therer he yelled, giving me blow and a push that hurled me head long from my seat. Go down there! stay there die there rot there! Bob Campbell and don't forget, when you're dying, tha Tom Brinton sent you thereP
 'The fall did not hurt me bit. and I be gan to crawl toward the rope ladder hanging against the side of the bin, thanking GoC that the grain hadn't begun to move, else Te
 be a dead man in no time But as soon as thu
 ruffian saw what I was after, he went rount and pulled up the ladder"
 Let that alone,"I shouted, feeling how lit
 tie hope of escape I had with the ladder ou
 of my reach. He laughed and flung thu ropes over a beam.
 Do you mean to murder me?' cried.
 No, I'm going to leave you there, Bob
 You have fallen in, you see. Thatn be tn
 verdict when they find your body. You'l
 want your shovel man, to make the thing
 look natural. I'll throw it to you in a min
 ute.''
 "I felt quite sure that it was so dark in tn
 bin that he could not see me very plainly, i | oJ hot ba Try fo ma
 the shovel. I crawled close to the side, witt
 one cheek against the wood looking up,
 could see him directly above me- peerins
 down into the gloom, and with the shovel il
 his outstretched arm, ready to spear at me a
 if I were a fish. Then followed stillnes
 that continued for five minutes, during whicl
 he stood on his guard. Suddenly 1 heard
 untitled rattle of machinery and felt strang
 power pulling at my feet, while my whol
 body seemed to be sliding down bottomles
 pit. In an instant knew what was happen
 ing.
 The grain aCGS running"
 "I madly flung out my arms, and my fna
 CTS clutched one of the upright beams. As
 drew myself up against the receding torren'
 I heard laugh above me and the words
 Remember Bessie Tillott Bob Campbell
 and that loved her, and the words spok Ito you by the big elm. Good by P ~
 When looked up the man was gon
 from my sight. I don't exactly know how
 managed to climb that huge beam. 1 thin
 there were nails here and there that helpe
 my feet and hands; for after I was rescue my body was found to be covered from hea to foot with great gashes or scratches. Any
 how, slowly and painfully managed to reac the top, and threw my left arm over the edg , of the bin, and gasped for breath. Thel when was so near to safety. to life, to hop, I felt horrible, sickening blow from som, thing neither dull nor sharp. I seemed to fes , the cutting of the flesh and to hear th 1 breaking of the bone. The arm, battere
 and broken, lost its grasp, and 1 fell back int the darkness and horror of the bin. Hardl had touched the yielding. wheat when m l shovel was thrown from above and struc within few inches of my head. Though m , arm pained me terribly didn't faint. I ws , helpless. The dust was stifiing. The graf was whirling and hissing as it slid toward 1 the vortex few feet distant. I heard th ' murmur of machinery in motion and th rushing sound of the wheat as it rushed int the spout. Where lay the grain had ns ? yet begun to move into the little whirlpool but knew it would be only minute or tw
 before I should be tossing and struggling , that treacherous quicksand, and then, stifiet mutilated and dead, at the spout. The du:
 seemed to circle above me and leave me Ii 5 tie air to gasp.
 Lying thus. hopeless aud helpless, a car } lessness of death came upon me. My lii