The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1873-09-27
MISCELLANY.
A BRAVE ENGINEER.
BY REBEccA HARDING DAVIS.


1t was clear June morning. The sky
overhead was dappled with the fieecy pink
clouds of the dawn not yet whitened into
daylight; the dew still rested on the rows
of naples and horse-chestnnts that shaded
the pavements of the country town ard
the climbing masses of purple wisteria aDd
crimson roses over the many gabled
houses
Down in the depot the long train of cars
stood ready to start. Two or three wD-
men were going through them, giving the
final rub and polish to the snowy SILVER
mountings, while the workmen outside
went up and down whistling, and clang-
ing on the wheels to test their soundneSs.
Inside the Office window Mr.. Pearee, the
clerk, looked out, nodding ;good-morning,
and joking with the conductor and the Of
fcers of the station as they came up. Bis
canary chirped and peered out of his cage
beside him with his bright eyes, as if he too
wanted to say good-morning.
In the foremost part OF the depot the
new engine, ''Oneida," stood glittering lin
her brilliant crimson and silver coat, as the
sun slowly rose. Little puffs of white
smoke came out from her nostrils, and now
and then she moved impatiently up and
down the track eager to be off.
"She's like a young colt on the ram
page to be in the race, said Bill Stokes! to
the engineer, HoEey.
s'Yes.''
The young man walked round her, tsy-
ing her here and there to see that bolts and
nuts were right, but with an affectionate
touch, as the owner efsa favorite horse
might do before the race began.
''Her first trip?" asked bystander.
No; second,a said HoFey. Hetu1led
into the little room out OF which Pearce
was looking as he spoke. f,
That's d young man to have charges OF
an engine,n said the stranger to Stokes:
''Well, yes,n shifting bis tobacco frpm
one jaw to the other. . But the company
haint got no more reliable ingine-driFer
than Matt Hovey. He's pushed his cWn
way, that feller has,"
Hes not pushed it very high, to drive
an engine,'' said the man. laughing.
That's as you look at it,
Bill was a porter, and in his eyes the
engineers was high post of honor.
"Hovey's father was a clergyman, Eve
heard saw, and died of cholera when' he
was baby; since which he's been left
alone to hoe his own roe. Likely his fafh her
bein' clergyman has helped to keep him
straight. He don't drink nor tetch a
card.''
But the stranger was tired of Bills gos-
sip, and seized the first break to walk off.
Mr.. Pearce, inside the window abpve,
looked at Hovey and laughed.
''D'ye hear Stokes sounding your
praises? How do you make friends of all
these men on the road, Matt 20
Il don't know" But he did not 81. .lile,
and his usually frank, bright face wasssad
and anxious. Mr.. Pearee waited forthim
to speak. Hovey was not only oddly pop
ular with the workmen, but with all the
officers of the road.
What is it, Matt?o
Well, not much" 4
The young fellow stroked DOWN his
bright check shirt, very much embarfass-
ed. He was not of the age or class when
men speak easily of their feelings. "Qnly
I've pushed myself up, as Bill calls it., such
a little way"
Don't you like engineering, then?'
Mr.. Pearce looked surprised. -.
"Ies; well enough he hesltbted.
sIt's a better business than / ever hoped
to get into when / was greasing wheels.
And yet-Well. YOU see, Mr. Peared, my
father had different sort of work. He
was of some account in the world"
But then, you know, Matt, he was an
educated man. Mr.. Pearce was eIalbar-
rassed, hardly knowing what to say.
"Yes. That's what / couldn't get, an
edication. A man can't be of any use
without it,
He stood gloomily looking out OF the
window at the passengers gathering fol
the outgoing train.
''Now, look herel" he said, suddenly
"D'ye see that tall, slab-shouldered fellow
in gray?. That's Toombs, the great tenn
perance speaker. Why, Mr.. Pearde, hi
spends his time goin' about the country
gettin' men and boys by the thousands tt
leave the grog-shops. It's like openih' tht
doors of the kingdom of heaven, ih my
notion, sir. Now look acrost the platforn
at that one-legged man. That's Coli Rob
erts. He lost his leg am his health, too, il
the war. Now he's done something to carr