The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1874-09-03
[For the Press.l
The Private Wire.
A Tale for Telegraphers.
BY ONEY GAGIN.

did not care what was the cause. It
might have been broken rail, misplaced
switch, but there we were-the rows of car
seats over our heads, the roof under our feet.
We had gone down the embankment; the
engine and baggage car had gone with US.
There was no list of dead and wounded,
thank Providence, unless We take into ac-
count fractured glass and wounded car fix
lures. This was the bright side. The other
side was, how long should we have to wait? /?
Time, 8 P. M. Distance to B station, five
miles. Prospect of relief train, uncertain.
made up my mind to walk to B sta
ton, but, gentle reader, won't drag you
with me along that moonless, unfamiliar path,
over stumps, line fences and forgotten hay
racks, but take you at once between the
blankets-(Nell is looking over my shoulder
and says ''tut, tut" ''Who's writing this
story, Nell? Anyway all the bang up novel;
lists say, I will take my reader at once to-
etc. Now where else can take my reader ?"
Nell subsidies, but I've promised her to put in
an amendment. Direct resumed) and take
you at once between the B:lboa blankets of a
comfortable couch in gambrel-roofed farm
house in the vicinity of B station.
sank into a refreshing and dreamless
slumber. do not know how long l slept,
but was awakened suddenly by singular
bell-like sound, almost at my very ear. The
room was as dark and silent as a "First
class" after he has been neatly sold.
What could that noise be-? Presently it
came again. How near it was!
leaped to my feet in twinkling. do
not exaggerate. II you had been timing me
by the town clock, you would have found it
to be less time than that. 1 searched that
room with lighted candle and listened, with
view to location.
found near the beds head, upon the wide
window sill (behind the curtain) small re-
ceiving magnet. The armature was so ar
ranged as to strike upon a thin circular plate
of brass. There was the little key with its
ivory knob. 1t lay loosely upon the window
sill in the midst Of tangle of thread-like
insulated wire, by which it was connected
with the magnet or relay. This, then, was
the ghost of my haunted chamber, its mys-
terry explained.
Was 1, then, in a telegraph office? No, the
location of the farmhouse, the general accou-
trements and surroundings of the room for
bade this supposition. This must, then, be
private wire, hanging between two country
homes for the amusement and social inter-
of ,,ol frian6S - ho
This telegraph promised somewhat spicier
variety than the railway accident, and was
bound to have some fun out of it.
Endeavoring to keep the circuit carefully
closed, l took the little key, disentangled it
from the skein-like threads, and bore it tri-
quilted. By this time was call of goose
flesh" Is it any wonder should act like a
goose under such circumstances?
In spite of all my precaution to keep the
circuit closed while uItangled the fine wires,
think must have failed, for no sooner was
ensconsed in comfortable and easy posi-
ton, ready to make dash at that unknown
telegrapher on the other end of the wire, than
the little hammer began to vibrate, and the
tremulous, bell-like tinkle began. was then
but an amateur performer with telegraphic
symbols, but with powerful concentration and
almost supernatural effort managed to de-
cipher what was being written. 1t was this
SIS that you, Inez?" Now what could be
more like "Oney" than "Inez" when plugged
over private wire?
replied 'yes, its me-"
''It don't write like Inez; when did you
| get home from your vacation?"
'Last night"
| "Oh Inez, Pm so glad you are there. You
are the only one confde in'i
| Inow perceived l was telegraphing with a
young girl and began to fear was getting in
to tall grass, but it would spoil good joke TO
back out now, so replied.
| 81 always was you know; what's up? that
is, what stirs the gentle surface Of your
hearts crystal sea?'
Oh Inez, how can you be so light when
Pm so miserable. Forgive me dear, for wax
ing you so early, but as it is the last morning
thought you wouldn't mind"
"Last morningS
eyes the last. He will not take no for an
answer, / must marry hin."
didn't see anything in all this calculated
to make any one more than moderately ms
cradle, and so ventuTed to say:
perhaps your wedding dress don't suit, Is
it lavender silk or mcire?'