Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-04-28
Maa'riedby Death.

A most horrible affair took place recent
ly on branch line of the radiating road
runlng from the great iron artery of the
P, W. and B. railroad, up through the
pleasant valley Of Chester county,
Pennsylvania.
1t was near Chadd's Ford, and at a
beautifully romantic spot. There is a
turbulent stream running between high
banks, on which stunted willows grow,
while further down, at the waters edge,
the weeping variety Of the same tree
dips its greenish tresses in the musical
water, which has hushed its riotous noise
to almost requiem since the death of
George Ricketts, and mollie Dolbell-as
fine young man and as pretty a girl, :"
the farmers say, :" as you will find in all
Chester county," This is how they met
their death.
Mollie was one of those pink andwhite
dairy-maids that you sometimes meet in
the grazing regions of Pennsylvania.
Her hair was bonny brown, but with Just
CLINT of black in it, as if it had been
gently touched by ravens wing. She
was ight-hearted and as merry as the lark
with which she arose, the lark that carol
ed above her head as she Topped her neat
dress about her enhancing ankles, and
skinned into the stone dairy where the
painted pans were ranged in rows and
the yellow spots of butter fecked the
cool water.
The trouble with Mollie was that she
had two lovers George Ricketts,, a
sta'wart Farmland, and the other Hugh
O'Donnell. q sullen; red -whiskered man,
employed on the small drawbridge over
the Fox Run that we have spoken of.
This draw was seldom used except for a
lazy schooner that came up to get terra
Gotta pipe from mandatory above.
The two men knew that they were RI
walls, and Mollie knew it, TOO, being sore
troubled in her white soul as she stood
Saturday evening before Lent, in the
porch of the house where she lived, and
promised to take ride on the morrow
with George-not a ride in buggy nor
sail in boat, but rafting ride on a
hand-car, a practice which is frequent on
these lonely lines, whose rails vibrated
bu: seldom under the crunching advance
Of the engine.
It is unnecessary to describe the hand
car, that fits the rails, it is worked by a
crank, and when started goes like the
wind. The car had been loaned George
by band of laborers who were making
repairs about mile above. He had dust
ed it neatly, and when the pretty girl
reached him by short path through the
woods, he had arranged the vehicle so
cleverly, with cushion for Mollie, that
it did not seem unlike Cleopatra's barge.
She was in her Sunday best, and she
laughed lightly in the sunshine as George
swung her to her seat and then leaped to
the handles.
There were no Sunday trains; there
was no danger.
Mollie crossed ner tiny feet, felt the ex
hilaration of the movement, as Georges
swelling arms produced the terrible mo-
mentum, and saw her neat skirts blown
about by the rushing wind beneath the
platform. On, on they went, the glisten-
ing rails ringing, the bonny brown hair
blown about, and the Fox Run bridge
near at hand.
On that bridge Hugh O'Donnell sat
smoking his pipe. The draw was open,
although no drifting schooner was in
sight. Some evil, bird had whispered to
Hugh the Sunday trip of his rival with
Mollie. He determined on murder at
once. This is the reason the rusty draw was