Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1881-09-29

thought of my own little children.
"Ill take her." said I-and 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 | 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 i'll 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 !!
Flowing down amid the snow-drift,
through a grove of pine trees that edged
n ravine at the back of my house, |
sprang lightly on the doorstep the door
was shut and locked | went around to
the front. + ere / effected an entrance,
but the fire was dying on the hearth,
and little BERTHE, tucked up i'll his crib,
called out
Papa, is that you? ?"
"Where is mamma, my son?" said |,
looking eagerly around mt the desolate
room.
"Gone out with the baby in her arms
to look for you" he said. Didn't you
meet her, papa p
| stood minute i'll silence.
'Lie still, BERTHE, said l, in a voice
that sounded strange and husky even
to myself. II will go and bring her
back.
And I thought with dismay of the
binding snow-storm outside, the treach-
erous gorges which lay between here
and the White Blackbird, the trackless
woods, through which it was difficult
enough to find ones way even in the
sunshine of MONDAY, and-worst of all
the lonely track, across which all
express" shot like a meteor at few
minutes before midnight. Oh, heaven
what possible doom might | not have
brought upon myself by the wretched
passion in which / had gone away that
morning.
The town clock, sounding dim and
muffled through the storm, struck
eleven as l hurried down
Eleven-and who knew what a length
of time might elapse before could find
her? And like fiery phantasmagoria
before my minds eye, beheld the wild
rush of the midnight express, and
dreaded knew not what. For all that
I could realize was that the storm was
growing tiercer with every moment,
and Polly and the baby were out i'll its
fury
As steadily as l could I worked my
way down toward the track, but more
than once | became bewildered, and had
to stop and reflect before l could resume
my quest. And when, at length, came
out close to a ruined wood and water
station on the edge of the track, | knew
IldI llAll IAaill u L114C bC1ON VIC
White Blackbird.
And in the distance I heard the long,
shrill shrek of the midnight train
Some one else had heard it, too, for,
as I stood thus, / saw, family visible
through the binding snow, shadowy
figure issue from the ruined shed and
come out upon the track, looking with
bewildered, uncertain air up and down
the form of Polly, my wife, with the
little baby i'll her arms
hurried down to her as fast as the
rapidly increasing snow-drifts would
let me, but was only Just in time to
drag her from the place of peril, and
stand, breathlessly holding her back,
while the fery-eyed monster of steam
swept by with rush and rattle that
nearly took our breath away!
"Polly!' 1 cried, "Polly speak to
mep'
She turned her wandering gaze toward
me, with her vague eyes that seemed
scarcely to recognize me.
"Have you seen my husband?" said
she. "One Jacob Cotterel, brakeman
on the local express ?"
"Polly little woman don't you know
me?" L gasped.
''And ] thought, perhaps, she added,
vacantly, ''you might have met him.
It's very cold here, and-and-"
And then she tainted i'll my arms.
The long, long brain fever that follow
ed was a sort of death. There was a
time when they told me she never would
know me again, but, thank God, she
did. She recovered at last. And since
that night never have tasted drop of
liquor, and, please heaven, never will
again. The baby, bless its dear little
heart, wasn't harmed at all. 1t lay snug
and warm on its mothers breast all the
while. But if l hadn't happened to be
close by them at that instant the night
express would have ground them into
powder!
And the white stripe came into my
hair upon the night of that fearful snow
storm. That's how it happened, sir.
Professor Marsh, of Yale college, has
recently discovered In the cretaceOus de-