The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1882-08-26

uIedIhCu VI giving up anu sHo hueW
by heart the significance of Adam Bede's
saying: There's nothing but what s
bearable so long as man can work.
The square O. four is sixteen, and you
must lengthen your lever in proportion to
your weight, is as true when a man s
miserable as when he's happy; and the
best o working is, it gives you grip
hold o things outside your own lot
There came rainless August. Day
after day the sun shot fiercer javelins of
heat. Night after night stiffness of
slow suffocation seemed to encompass
the earth. But as Rose went YEARLY to
her work one darkening twilight. a
nameless thrill and terror in the air
warned her of coming tempest. In a
moment an inky blackness plotted out
the world, whirlwind clutched at her
flying figure, and as she struggled breath
less up the platform of the station, the
heavens seemed to open in vast sheet
of flame, the building trembed in the
crash of thunder, sudden fire flashed
from her little office, and the darkness
as of midnight had settled once more
over all things. She CROPPED her way
forward, stumbling against a man.
''ls it you, Miss Myrick?" he gaSped.
For Gods sake don't stay here! That
bolt struck the instrument and burned
out the magnet. The rooms death
trap. Come away"
Il can't, Mr.. Rice. 1t is time to 90
on duty. Something may happen to the
trains in this awful storm. Is no one
else here?
mot a soul, Miss Myrick. It's the
half-hour for supper, though it s so dark.
There's no train for forty minutes. It's
as much as your life is worth to NEEDLE
with that magnet. 1 beg you to come"
Another flash of binding light, an
other crash as of crumbling world.
Don't stay, Mr.. Rice" said Rose,
quietly. you have your wife and child
to consider. But my place is here"
He made feint to remain, but she
closed the door of the office behind her,
as if to make his dismissal absolute, and
he was glad to go. She found the
matches, lighted her lamp, and supplied
the magnet, fury of rain and wind
dashing against her window, a flame of
lightning seeming to scorch her eyeballs.
She tried the instrument. and found the
circuit secured. Her nerves were tense
with excitement. She went to the open
door to breathe. A CHASTITY brilliancy,
brighter than any daylight, touched the
earth for a swift moment, and by its
torch she saw, far up the shining, narrow
ing rails, large tree uptorn and lying
prone across the track. She remember
ed the road just there-the river on one
side, a rocky chasm on the other Good
God! and the Western Express was al
most due! Was there time to stop it at
Hardwick? She would try. She rush
ed to the instrument. The storm had
deranged it; it would not respond. She
wasted three precious minutes over the
battery. Suddenly she remembered hay
ing seen the red lanterns ready for use.
In the same instant she remembered also
that long stretch of trestle-work which
she must cross, that open bridge, the
mere thought of which had always turn
ed her dizzy and sick when She had
noticed the trackmen shuffling heedlessly
over.
For one second she hesitated Then
some words Will Hayes had once read
to her, with flashing eyes and deepen
ing color, seemed spoken audibly in his
voice:
whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battles van,
The fitteSt place for man to die
Is where he dies tor man"
She snatched up a red lantern, and ran
ran as if the issues of life and death
lent her feet wings. She reached the
horrible trestle-work, caught her breath,
and darted on. She felt the firm ground
under her feet once more, saw the bridge
rise grim and awful before her, put all
her heart and strength into a swifter
flight, and crossed it, swinging her Ian
tern high in the air. For she had heard,
faint and far off, the swift rush of the
incoming train, and knew she was racing
neck and neck with death
The storm beat on her uncovered
head, half binding her. Her light sum
mer raiment, soaked through and
through, chung about her, hindering.
Her heart throbbed so that she seemed
sutfocating. She had ceased to feel her
flying feet. This running, painting,
aching, choking thing that toiled along
SO painfully, swinging its red light with
its numbed arm, could this be Rose
Myrick?
o, if her will should fail, she thought
her will which alone seemed to bear
her stiffening body on And at that in
slant she heard the sound for which her
straining ears were set, the whistle for
''down brakes" The engineer had seen
her signal. Thank God, the train was
saved!
But its fiery rush could not be stopped.
1t kept the track, indeed, but struck the
tree with force that sent the smaller
branches flying like missiles, that drove a
splinter full against the breast of the
slender girl, still mechanically struggling
on with her beacon, and hurled her down
the embankment, She felt no hurt. She
was confused, utterly exhausted, willing
to lie there forever, SO she need never
move again. She was almost sorry when
she saw lanterns moving above her, and
men climbing down to her. 1t was the
kind conductor, whom she knew well,
who took her gently in his arms, eX-
claiming: "Why, bless my soul it is
Miss Myrick! Gentlemen, take off your
hats. This little girl has done what few
men would have dared to do in the face
of such storm, and saved three hundred
lives. Are you hurt, my dear2'