Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1881-01-28
THE BRAKEMAN'S STORY.

n lOuSu- lOOkluk mani Les, perhaps
| am. We amt all of US responsible
Tor our outside husk, no more than
hOrse-chestnut or hazel-nu5 is. The
kind of life / lead can't be lived in
white kid gloves al dress coats. /
wasn't brought up with many advan-
tages, and I'm only brakeman on the
Rensselaer, and Saratoga line. Old
Jones was telling you about me, was
ho, sirP He'd better hold his tongue.
There's more profitable subjects of con.
versation than | am. But old Jones
means well enough, and if he told you
to ask me how that stripe OF white hair
came on my black name, l amt the
man to go back on him. Oh, you
needn't beg my pardon, sir | don't
mind talking about it now, though the
time was when could't speak of it
without big lump coming in my
throat.
We hadn't been married long. Polly
and me, when it happened. Polly was
trim, bright-eyed slip OF girl as ever
you'd wish to see. She was one of the
wesTesses in the Albany lunch room
and the FIRST time / ever set eyes upon
her made up my mind to make that
g;rl NV wife So. when they raised my
wages, l took heart and asked her If she
wedding ring thrown into the bargain.
Do you really mean it, Jakep"
said she, looking me full in the face,
with those dark blue eyes of hers, that
are like the skies at night.
do really mean it, Polly" said I
"Then," said she, putting both her
hands in mine, "I'll trust you. I've no
living relation to advise me. so l can
only take counsel with my own heart
So we were married. | rented a little
one-stOry house, under the hill on the
height. that overlooked the Hudson-a
cozy place with good-sized wood pile
at the rear, for winter meant winter in
those parts, and the snow used to be
dri(ted up even with our door yard
fence many and many cold gray
morning. And everything went smooth
until Polly began to object to my mates
at the White Blackbird, and the Satur-
day evenings | spent with the boys,
after my train was safely run onto the
side track az the junction.
"Why, Polly, girl said l, where's
the harmp A man can't live by himself,
like an oyster in It's shell, and q social
glass never yet harmed any one"
No" said Polly, mot social glass,
Jake, but the habit. And if you would
only put every five-cent piece that you
spend for liquor into little Bertie's tiny
savings bank"
:" Pshaw ~ said l. Pm not a drunk
ard. and 1 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 deal OF
trouble"
l kissed her, and went away. But
that was the beginning of the little, grave
shadow tnat grew on my Polly's face, like
a creeping fog over the hills, and that
she has never got rid of since.
1t was a sore point between us-what
the politicians called vexed question.
| felt that Polly was always watching
me; and | didn't choose to be put in lead
ing-strings by woman. SCI shame
to say it-I went to the White Blackbiro
oftener than ever, aud / didn't always
count the glasses of beer that drank,
and once or twice, of particularly cold
night, let myself be persuaded into
drinking something stronger than beer
and my brain wasn't the kind that could
stand liquid fire with impunity. And
Polly cried, and I lost my temper, and
well l don't like TO think of all these
things now. Thank goodness they're
over and gone
That afternoon, as stood on the back
platform of my car, with my arms fold
ed and my eyes fixed on the snowy
waste of fiat fields through which the
iron track seemed to extend itself like
an endless black serpent, | looked my
own lite in the face. | made up my
mind that / had been behaving like .
brute.
What are those senseless fellows al
the White Blackbird to me" muttered
!, las compared with one of Polly's
sweet bright looksP 1 will give the
whole thing up. III draw the sine JUS
to-niaht. Ill go home and astonis
Pollyp'
But, as night fell, the binding drift oi
a great storm came with it. We were
belated by the snow which collected 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 either wait three or four hours
for n way train in the cold and
cheerless station, or be taken home
across snowy field by some one WI
knew the way.
thought of my own little children.
III take her. said land liilinl
her up gathered my coarse, warm cca
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 lett hersafe in charge OF
her aunt, | saw by the old kitchen
time-piece that it was Ten O'Clock.
Polly will think have slipped back
into the Slough 0! Daspond, I" ! said to
myself, with halfa smile; but III give
her an agreeable surpriser'
Flowing down amid the snow-drift.