The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1872-02-23
The Rescued Child, or, the Conductors
Story,
"Good arabic land ?.
BY REBEccA HARDING DAVIS

"GOod arabic land?"
Yes, Sir, / replied, and if You please
to look at ii in the way of scenery, it's
rs pretty a bit of land as you'll find in
Kent county. That stretch now ahead
see. By the way, there was a queer
thing happened on the track just three
years ago come THANKSGIVING. 1t oc-
CURED in this way
This branch road, you see, was built
for the local peach business. / was put
on as conductor of the first train that
was run. By George! how the engines
woke the country upl The stations used
to be crowded with young fellows in
naShy neckties, and their sweethearts-
nice, modest little girls, loaded with
cheap finery, who had made up parties
and come down from the interior to see
the train go by. Every old farmer on
the route thought he owned the engine,
(the Gen. Jackson it was,) and knew
each separate car as well as he did his
own cattlcand sheep. They would treat
their wives to a few miles ride, as YOU
town people would rnn over to Europe
with yours.
OF course, Sir, was at home here on
the road in two weeks. Everybody
called me Dick. There were scores of
places where l could drop in for an odd
We're my uncles and cousins or not. All
the old fellows got free passes over the
road, and forsook their corners by the
tavern fire for the baggage car. There
they smoked day after day, and told
queer stories of their neighbors' fami-
lies, for the benefit of anybody that
chose to listen. l knew all the gossip
by heart directly. 1t was Just when the
peaches were in bloom, too, when
went on the road, and I was soon punch
ing open buds with my thumb-nail, and
talking learnedly Of Early Blush and
Morris Whites with the rest. It's Gu
rious sight TO see that pink flush, above
the early spring mud from one end of
the State 10 the other, and to think that
crop is the one matter of life and death
to the people.
The peaches had come and gone, when
one day, about a month before thanks
giving, an old fellow came on board
with his family, who had pass for two
down to St. Georges. saw at glance
he was none of my usual dead-head
squad. A thin, wiTy old man, white
headed, but as active as a boy of sixteen,
and with the true Delawarean lnack of
finding out friends and showing himself
friendly. He was a reporter on some
Philadelphia penny paper, and had his
notebook out every minute, pumping
me about the Wilmington whipping
post Sloan's fish-breeding experiment,
and the condition of the freed negroes.
Makes itemsl makes itemsW he
sau' pushes the paper wonderfully
INTO local circulation
he had been doctor, or LAWYER. /
Iorget which, in New York, and was
starved out, he told me-so he took nm
Jourhallzlng. He did not imnress me-
rs man OF ability; and besides The
poor old fellow was worn ont n 30,
hlgh time Tor him to lie by and loaf ,,';tI1
the others in the baggage-car '''- " i'ii
Newspaper work. he said ssno,,u
handsomely, compared to my own nro7
fession. We get on quite con1fortdihf M
on my salary; quite comfortable y ''''iS
l noticed, however, that both ba o,,a
his women folks We're thinly and slat 'a'l''
billy dressed. did not pay mncb afta,,
tion TO the women, but there was a III
Dan, the old mans grandson. IA litfia
chap of four years that l took fancy
to from the first. He had an ugly face
but / think one of the most honest and
lOyeable I ever saw.
Tanner-that was the old mans name
told me he had brought his wife and
daughter down to keep Thanksgiving in
this village, where they had lived years
before 1--WE were all younger and
cheerfuller than now" he said, "and 1
thought, may be, with the old place
would come back some Of the old feel