Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-08-14
THE BRAKEMAN'S STORY.

A rough-looking man? Yes, perhaps
am. We amt none of US responsible
for our outside husk, no more than
horse-chestnut or hazlenut is. The
kind of life lead can't be lived IN white
kid gloves and dress coats. l wasn't
brought up with many advantages, and
I'm only brakeman on the Rensselar
and Saratoga line Old Jones was tell
ing you about me, was he, sir? He'd
better hold his tongue. There's more
profitable subjects of conversation than
lam But old Jones means we'll enough,
and if he told you to ask me how that
stripe of white hair came on my black
name, amt the man to go back on him.
Oh, you needn't beg my pardon, sir! L
don't mind talking about it, now, though
the time was when 1 couldn't speak of it
without big lump coming into my
throat.
We hadn't been married long, Polly and
me, when it happened. Polly was as
trim and bright-eyed slip of girl as ever
you'd wish to see. She was one OF the
mattresses in the Albany lunch-room; and
the first time l ever set eyes upon her L
made up nv mind to make that girl my
wife. So, when they raised my wages, l
took heart and asked her if she would
have them with me, with wedding ring
thrown into the bargain.
''Do you really mean it, jake" said
she, looking me fully in the face, with
those dark-blue eyes of hers, that are like
skies in the night
81 do really mean it, Polly" said l.
"Then," said she, putting both her
hands into mine. ''I'll trust you. I've
no living relatives to advise me, so l can
only take counsel with my heart"
So we were married. rented little
one-story house, under the hill on the
height that overlooked the Hudson-a
cosey place, with good-sized wood-plle
at the rear, and the snow used to be
drifted up even with our dooryard fence
many and many cold grey morning.
And everything went smooth until Polly
began to object to my mates at the White
Blackbird, and the Saturday evenings L
spent with the boys, after my train was
safely run on the side track at the juno
ton.
"Why, Polly, girl said I, where's
the harm9 A man can't live by himself
like an oyster in its shell, and social
glass never yet harmed any one"
"No," said Polly, ''not social glass;
Jake, but the habit And if you would
only put every five cent piece that you
spent for liquor into our little Bertle's
tiny savings bank"
"Pshaw!'' said l. "l'm no drunkard,
and never mean to become one. And
no one likes to be preached to by his
wife, Polly. Remember that, my girl,
and you'll save yourself a deal Of
trouble
sI kissed her and went away. But that
was the beginning of the little grave
shadows that grew upon my Polly's face
like creeping fog over the hills, and
that she has never got rid of since.
1t was.a sore point between us-what
the politicians call vexed question. l
felt that Polly was always watching me;
and didn't wish to be put in leading
strings by a woman. Sol shame to say
it went to the White Blackbird often
er than ever, and l didn't count the
glasses of beer that drank, and once or
twice of particularly cold night, l let
myself be persuaded into drinking some
thing stronger than beery and my brain
wasn't the kind that could stand liquid
fire with impunity. And Polly cried, and
/ lost my temper, and-well, don't like
to think of all these things now. Thank
goodness, they are over and gone.
That afternoon, as | stood on the back
platform of my car, with my arms folded
and my eyes fixed on the snowy waste of
flat fields through which the iron track
seemed to extend itself like an endless
black serpent, [ looked my own life in
the face 1 made up my mind that had
been behaving like brute.
ssWhat are those senseless fellows at
the White Blaekbird to me-, muttered l,
"as compared with one of Pollys sweet,
bright looks? l will give the whole
thing up. I'll draw the line just here
now. We shall be off duty early tonight.
I'll 90 home and astonish Pollyw
But as night fell, the binding drift of
a great snow storm came with it. We
were belated by the snow which collect
ed on the rails, and when we reached
Earldale there was little girl, who had
been sent on in the care of the conductor,
who must wait either three or four hours
for way train in the cold and cherries
station, or to be taken home across a
snowy field by some one who knew the
way
thought of my cwn little children.
"Tll take her." said land lifting her
up, gathered my coarse, warm coat
about her, and started for the long, cold
walk under the whispering pines along
the edge of the river.
l honestly believe she would have
frozen to death if she had been left in the
cold station until the way train could call
for her. And when had left her safe in
charge of her aunt l saw by the old
kitchen time piece that it was ten
O'Clock.
"Polly will think | have slipped back
into the slough of despond," l said to
myself. with half smile; "but I'll give
her an agreeable surprise"
Ploughing down amid the snowdrift
through grove Of pine trees that edged
a ravine at the back of my house, l
sprang lightly on the doorstep; the door
was shut and locked. | went around to
n