The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1880-12-25
CARL sPRINGEL.
rFrom Golden Days.l

| many, IOr ueou Vi Soil-sfAcIiuClHS ucEO'
ism which is unparalleled in the legends
of Greece and Rome, or the annals of
more modern chivalry.
1t is not SO very hard for the soldier to
face bullets and cannon balls upon the
the battle field, for he knows that while
| there are many chances Of death there is
still some chance of life.
Carl Springel, poor, lame German
boy, to save many human beings from an
awful death, walked straight into the
face of certain death himself, and met it
like hero.
| On the 10Th of November, 1867, ter
rible rain storm swept over Southern
Germany. For twenty hours the rain
poured down in such torrents as had
never before been known in that region,
and it seemed as if the day were to be
the beginning of o second deluge. Rivers
overhowed their banks, and petty streams
| were swallen into rivers.
| At nine O'Clock at night the storm
ragged ON with unabated violence, when
Carl Springel set out on his crutehes
! from the hut in which he lived alone. to
carry an evening repast to his parent,
who was on wstch.duty at the bridge
over the Devils Gulch, on the Great
South German Railway.
The Devils Gulch is fanciful name
given to an immense cleft in the rocks,
two hundred feet wide and hundred
and fifty deep. which had been spanned
by strong bridge of wood and iron, be-
lleved by the engineers who constructed
it to be capable of withstanding all pos
I.sible assaults of wind and water
1t was the duty of Wilhelm Springel-
Carl's father-to keep guard at this
bridge on stormy nights, and warn the
oncoming trains of any lurking danger
which might exist.
Beneath the bridge mountain stream
boiled and bubbled in ordinary times; on
that night the heavy rains had swollen it
to furious torrent.
Carl Springel hobbled slowly along
upon his crutches through the almost
Egyptian darkness of the night, half
| blinded by the rain, but buoyed up by
the thought that he was bringing cheer
and comfort to his beloved father.
When within hundred yards of the
bridge, an awful crash sounded out upon
the night air loud above the din of the
storm. and a shudder of horror ran
through his brave young soul.
It was the bridge-the bridge which
had been deemed impregnable. The
bridge had succumbed to the fury of the
water, which rushed down upon its foun-
dations in irresistible torrents from the
| mountain side.
Hurrying on as fast as he could, Carl
reached the railroad track, and his worst
fears were realized. Upon the track,
some ten feet away from where the en-
trance of the bridge had been, was his
fathers hand-car, with his red lantern
| burning dimly in it, and by the lantern s
| light Carl could see the full extent of the
disaster. Every section, every timber of
the bridge had been swept away, and the
yawning gulf and the roaring flood were
all that were left.
Father, father" cried Carl, in his
! loudest tones Father, father" he
called again, where are you?"
But no answering voice responded,
and there rushed across his brain the
terrible certainty that his father had
gone down with the bridge.
For a moment his breast was filled
with unutterable anguish. But it was
only for moment Quick as thought
| it flashed upon his mind, that it was al
most time for the last-night train from
| the great city above to come rushing
| along with its living freight.
| No danger-signal cleaned from the
! watch-tower upon the bridge, and on
/ they would come, unsuspicious of their
peril until it would be too late, and they
would be dashed in moment into the
seething food more than hundred feet
| below
! What was to be done; Forgetting for
! the instant the great woe that had be-
fallen him, Carl decided at once that it
was his duty to supply his fathers place,
! and warn the train of its peril in time to
save it, if possible But what could he
| do? /
| The tempest increased in its fury, and |
the rain poured down Us though 1t could |
never stop. Hark, the train is comingl
Already he hears it rumbling on toward |
destruction, and it must be near, or he /
could not hear it above the storm.
He cannot run with his poor, crippled |
legs, SO he throws himself upon the |
hand-car, and nerves himself for a |
mighty effort.
AS though his own life were at stake, |
ne begins to turn. Slowly at first, then |
faster and faster, he drives the car in the |
direction of the approaching train.
On, on, dashes the mighty iron-horse; |
nearer and nearer it comes. Oh, if he |
can only warn them while there is yet |
time to stop the train! II only he can |
get far enough off to save the train from
rushing headlong into that horrible
grave!
Around the mountain side, on the |
curving track, the train speeds along.
| The CLEAN of its lights is now shed upon |
the valley, and the boy knows that the |
supreme moment is at hand.
On thunders the engine, and the track
trembles beneath the heavy burden.
Suddenly, around sharp bend hun
dred feet away. full on his sight bursts |
tho blazing headlight of the engine.
Ceasing from his labor, Carl Springel |
braces himself with one hand, and grasp
ing the red lantern in the other, swings |
it wildly above his head.
''Ths bridge is down. The bridge is |
down." he cries with all his power. THE |
bridge is down! The bridge is do"
The engineer has seen him, but cannot /
save him With dull thud, the engine |
clears the obstruction from the track and |
dashes talong-but slower and slower
The hand-car and the boy are hurled /
fifty feet through the air, and when the /
boy is found his body is crushed, man
gled and lifeless. But the train is saved.
Trem bling, gasping, staggering, the en-
gine halts-not dozen yards from the
mouth. of the yawningschasm- all on
board are saved. Saved by the unparal-
leled heroism of this crippled boy who
has given mp his life that they may live.
Two years ago, in a quiet village ceme-
terry in the South of Germany, l saw the
grave in which he sleeps. Upon mod
est tombstone at its head, erected by the
gratitude of those whose lives he had
preserved, is this inscription:
"CARL SPRINGEL,
AGED IA.
t'He died the death of hero and mar
tyr, and saved two hundred lives"
A hero and martyr he was indeed, and |
some time yet, bards and poets will sing |
the story of this brave young peasant |
boy of Germany.
AN ANSWERED PRAYER.-Mrs. Jane G. |
Swisshelm tells this interesting story in |
the Chicago Tribune: Zone of the early |
rectors of Trinity church, Pittsburg, |
used to omit frsm the form of prayer the |
petition to be delivered from sudden |
death, and was in the habit of praying |
that he might die suddenly. When
quite old he visited the grave of his
wife at sunset, and while talking with
friend of the beauty of the western sky
as an emblem of the death of Chris |
tan, his prayer was answered, and he !
dropped dead. We are apt to forget,
when friends are taken away by some ca
Al