Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-08-07
THE PET OF THE DRILLERS.

How Baby Was Adopted by the Rough
Men and Tenderly Cared Fora vagrant
and His Violin-From Wealthy Man to
Penniless Wanderer.
Correspondence of the Philadelphia Times
BRADFORD, Pa, August 1.-"YOu'l
excuse me, sir; but you see, we're all I'm
strung to-day and sort of wandering
about aimless like. The boys haven't the
heart to work and the drilling tools are
standing idle in the derrick. My wife,
dear heart, IS near crazy with grief and
does take on awful. You see, sir, Baby
is dead"
"Baby?"
eyes, the little girl. She wasn't cur
child, but we loved her just the same.
She wasn't baby, though you might
think so from the name. She was seven
or eight years old, but the name Baby
came to us with her when her mother
died."
The old driller brushed away a tear
with the sleeve of his blue flannel shirt
and turned sorrowlng face toward a
clump of pine trees away out in Mexican
county oil fields, at the front of the line
of development. A rough hemlock
board house peered through the trees and
cast long shadow downjhe broad aisle
made BY the sombre pines, and around
and over the implanted door, vines and
flowers were hanging in profusion, the
one redeeming feature of the homely
house and its lonely surroundings. l had
asked the old man for the privilege of
fo1y l.. o<
and had, at his request, dismounted and
tied my horse to a young pine prepare
tory to resuming long ride back to
Bradford.
81 don't know what kind of a supper
the old lady will have; not very good,
perhaps, but you are welcome to what
there is. Everything seems turned up
side down to-day; but come along sir. 1
see she is waving her sunbonnet at me-"
With hesitatlng step the old man led
the way over the threshold of his forest
home. His wife greeted me quietly and
kindly, while three or four drillers and
tOol-dressers seated about the room &C
knowledged the strangers visit with
careless mods, then resumed their CONVEX
sation as thong h nothing had happened.
The meal was solemn one and during it
[ learned the history of Baby and why
they loved her as their own.
BABY's HISTORY.
A year before woman had moved to
Bradford from the lower oil country with
her little girl and had essayed the strug
gle for existence with such employment
as her hands, wasted by poverty and sick
ness, could find 70 do. 1t was a bitter
struggle, fight between life and death,
with fearful odds in favor of death. Life
was sweet to her, n OF for herself alone,
but for her little girl, who, if death should
mercifully heal the mothers broken spir-
it, would be cast upon the world of
strangers, to drift God only knows where.
The woman was proud and would not ask
assistance, for she had once been wealthy
and leader in refined, cultivated socie-
ty. Her husband was dead, or something
Baby? What matters it either way? But
the end came one day, and poor little
Baby awoke one morning to kiss lips
which answered not back again, and to
nestle in arms which would never more
be stretched forth in protection and guild
ance for the little baby feet.
The little girl went out and sat on the
doorstep and cried as if her heart would
break, and presently the old driller came
along and, touched by the little WATTS
sorrow, took her in his strong arms and
asked the cause of her trouble.
"Mamma is there" sobbed the little
one, "and she won't speak, and her face
is oh! so cold"
The tired hands we're folded peacefully
across the st1lled heart and all that was
earthly of the poor, patient, struggling
mother was lowered tenderly away from
the sight of the little orphan forever,
Baby found loving friends in the old
driller and his wife, who, loving chill
dren, had never been blessed themselves
The little one was joy and beam of
sunshine to the old people, while to the
drillers and roughly-clad followers of
oil she was willful, capricious pet, rul-
ing over the great-hearted men with
sceptered power. Every one loved her
and gladly submitted to her loving rule.
And now that she was dead and lying so
still and silent in the home she had
frightened and made joyous the loving
hearts, to whom she ha0 been all in all,
were stricken in helpless misery
Saddened by the pathetic story stood
by the bed of death and looked down in
to face from which had faded tears and
fears and earthly pleasures, wearing a
smile as if in pleasant dreamland, about
to awaken to call of birds and breath of
flowers. And the soft summer wind, laden
with the perfume of the signing pines,
came in through open doors and windows
and kissed the dead child's cheeks and
blew the wavy brown hair about the
smooth white brow in careless freedom.
With mute grasp of the old driller's
hand rode away down the aisle Of SOM
bre pines and over long, lonely highway
to Bradford, bordering over the tender
ness and kindness of grizzled, gray
haired follower of the ever shifting scenes
of OIL
AvAGRANT's VIOLIN.
Late at night, in company with a
friend. l sat in the waiting room of one
of Bradford's large hotels discussing the
latest Warren county strike. The door
opened slowly and disreputable looking
yagrant sidled into the room, holding by
the neck dirty violin. Propping him.
self against the wall and at the same
time ewing the sleeping hotel clerk, he
made preparations to play.
sT,et us get out of this. l don't want
to he tortured with an infection on the
sacred name of music" said my friend,
as he moved toward the door. "It's