The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1878-10-08

Off the track down here-hundreds Of
passengers smashed In the wreck-a
burning axle caused it-and the whole
on firel"
"What areyou saying, ,Abijah PenceY"
called Pettibone, hoarsely. "That's the
train my sons on ~
"That's the train my daughters onl'
cried Asher, jerking one Of the horses,
insanely, +" unhitch this beast this min
ute. The threshing'll have to wait,
men. I've got to go over there and see
to my daughter!'
"What's the matter 2" cried Mrs.
Asher, coming down to the barn lot,
with her kitchen sun-bonnet on.
Pettibone had lashed his horses but
he paused and stood up In his carriage.
"Get in with me, both of you," he
called, his face white and stiff. "Get
in, Job Asher; our children's burning
to death, If they amt mangled corpses
already. There's no use quarrelllng
about them now"
The lean farmer, without word,
helped his halffalnting wife into his
enemy's carriage, and his hickory shirt
sleeve rubbed Pettibone's frantic elbow
as 1t urged the galloping horse to the
scene of the disaster. Job Asher was o
mean, miserable man, but he was q
man, as God knew. His jaws were set
like iron, while poor Pettibone's plump
er face worked spasmodically.
Pears like you could make more
speed If we were out, neighbor Petit
bone," he said, humbly. II don't
want to hinder you"
go, don't speak of that" begged
Pettibone; do you think could leave
you behind, and go on to SEQ my son,
and your little girl, maybe, cryin' to
you all the time Y''
"Oh, my Julia walled Mrs. Asher,
rocking herself and wringing her hard
hands. " The kindest, lovin 'est child
that ever was born 90, MOTHER she
says in her letter, Pm getting the good
education, but I'll be glad when the
holidays come, SO L can come home and
help you. Pm afraid you work too
hard, MOTHER says she. Lord, how
can give up my childp o, Lord, lay
not this burden upon thy tired, tired
handmade o, my child, my childl"
" She was mine, too, mother" put in
Job Asher, hoarsely.
"And mine, in measure" said Pet
tibone, elf my boy was wantin' to
marry her. She was likely, fine little
girl. My boy was fine boy, too"
"That he was,' assented Job Asher.
bright and forward young man as I
ever see. DO you s'spose there's any
hope that they may be saved? Abijah
Pence loves his tall stories so.''
Pettibone lashed his galloping horse
afresh.
said he. "It's chance If they escape;
but the wreck being on firel"
They dashed on at furious rate.
When they reached the scene of terror
the poor, painting animal was ready to
stand of his own accord, and the three
distracted people ran around seeking
their children. A crowd had already
gathered; men were trying to force open
the heaped-up cars with axes and crow
bars. The train was thrown into dry
ravine, known as Black Lick. Job
Asher looked down and saw a swim
ming panorama of men painting up the
bank with helpless and groaning shapes
in their arms; of long cars, half shat
tered, half bent; he heard shouts and
yells and the longs-s-s of escaping
steam, the roar of ascending fire, and
he felt its terrible heat. Pale, yellow
tongues of flames were gathering color
and volume. Mrs. Asher hung to Jobs
arm, trembling in every limb, and
shrieking with all her remaining
strength. The capable and energetic
farmer, who always wanted the head
and direction of every business, was
dazed and half senseless. He followed
Pettibone's lead when Pettibone dashed
down the bank among the rescuers, and
he found himself chopping and shouting
with the rest; but through every yellow
sheet of flame, through every panel of
of the smoking carriages he seemed to
see his dear girls face reproaching him.
"Yes, it's too late now, father,p her
silent voice said, sim lost to YOU.
You can't do any thing for me any
more. / know you were living for me,
but you made my life just as hard as if
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