River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1882-01-19

What delightful, dainty little meals
they cooked me with their own hands
And then one would fan and talk with
me in the long, hot summer afternoon.
One day, when the mother was out,
l told my little nurse my whole history,
concealing nothing, and watching the
changing emotions other face.
s'You have told me everything but
your name," she said, when | finished
THAT is simple enough" | replied.
was sitting up now, in the great, old
fashioned rocking at is George
Gray. And yours?'
clarence ONeil. My father was
killed ON the railroad several years ago,
and the company gave us this little
house, and we watch to flag the trains
if the bridge should not be safe; the
water in the river rises very high some
times"
She said it all very simply, as if such
a life was old and common enough to
her.
The daughter of a railroad laborer,
and / loved her-and was only a
tramp?
"Not very elevated" you think.
Perhaps not in the social scale, but
our hearts might be as true, our love as
great.
In the days which followed, and I'M
der their tender care, | grew rapidly
better, until at last | could frame no
excuse for remaining longer. But moth
ing could now tear me away from the
girl who had saved my life-whom |
knew but too we'll | loved.
/ never said one word of love to her,
for was only tramp, and my love
object needless pain.
Deep in my heart had resolved to
work up to something more worthy of
her, more worthy myself. But mean
while, | could not altogether leave her,
and, finally, through their influence
with men upon the road, men who had
worked with O'Neil before he was
killed, l received position. 1t was
only that of a brakeman upon the
night express. Not much, you think.
Perhaps not to you, my scoffing friend,
with your credit at the bank, but it
was everything to- me. 1t was the first
chance the world had given me. 1t
was my first step upward, and | be-
lieve was prouder in that 6rakeman's
cap than | ever was in my first gold
and black law sign in the old days of
my prohigacy and my profession.
/ ran on that road-it was the F., ID.
and G.-for nearly two months, making
every night the trip between Platts-
mouth and Delaver, rain or shine.
Now and then of Sunday | would
go down to the little cottage of the
O'Neils, and thus spend many pleas
ant afternoon in talking over the events
of my sickness with the mother, or
wandering down by the river with
Florence, my little love. | began to
dream that she loved me, and it made
me better man.
One night, | think it was of a
Wednesday, we made up our train, an
unusually large one, and left Platts-
mouth jrfst before dark. 1t had been
storming hard for two days, and it bid
fair to be dark, tempestuous night.
A special freight train left an hour
ahead of us, which we were to pass at
Somerset.
The night, as it grew later. proved to
be one of the toughest l had ever ex-
perienced the wind blew perfect
hurricane from the north, the glare of
the lightning was incessant, and the
heavy peals of thunder rolled along the
whole sky.
watch sharp for red light ut
Bridge No. o." | heard the train
master say to the engineer of the freight
as his heavy train pulled out of the
yard.
bridge No. 2" was the one close by
O'Neil's- the long one over the river was
Just this side. and known rs mo. T.
their little cottage was nestled in the
thick woods between the two.
Just how it happened | suppose no
one exactly knows. but it seemed that
Bridge No. % had been swept away
by the fury of the storm, and the red
,ante RI, safely placed by careful hands
to stop the advancing train, had gone
out in the terrible gale. The heavy
freight, propelled down the steep grade
between the two bridges by its own
weight, rushed with q scream by the
little cottage and took the terrible plunge
into the air, down fifty feet to the rocks
below.
When l saw it, early the following
morning, the wreck was complete, with
the dead, mangled bodies of the train
men wedged into the water and crushed
down by the heavy timbers.
and our train?" you ask.
Well, IN tell you about that as it was
told to me.
Florence and her mother were about
retiring to rest, believing the lantern
to be safely burning, when they heard
the shrill whistle of the freight, and a
moment later the fearful crash. Real
izing in moment what had happened,
Florence grasped lantern, and, amid
the hurricane of wind, the deluge of
water, the incessant glare of the light.
ming, and the peal upon peal of thun-
der, left the cottage and started for the
wreck.
Her light very soon went out in the
wind. but she bravely felt her way
through the woods and falling timbers
to the very edge of the rushing waters
that covered the crushed and drowned
men.
She could hear no sound to tell aer
that any one vet lived to relate the story
of that horrible leap to death. She knew
that the long nightexpress, with its
load of passengers, was nearly due, ana
none to warn them of their danger; a
lantern would not burn in the increased
fury the gale.
The telegraph Office at Somerset or
Maitland was the only place where the
officers could be notified and the catas-
trophe averted. To Somerset. was five
miles, over hills and through the woods,
and long before she could reach there
it would be too late-the express would
have gone down. Maitland was only a
mile, but between her and Maitland was
the river, ten or fifteen feet above its
natural height, and to pass this she must
cross over Bridge No. /, fifty feet above
the roaring, rushing water.
She must cross this bridge 400 feet
long, with nothing but the ties and rails
for support, the wird blowing a glale,
and the foaming, seething muddy waters
belowl Not one man In thousand but
would have shrunk from such task;
not one man in five hundred would
have gone over at any price or under
any considerations.
But nv brave, noble girl, with the
nerve of giant, never hesitated, never
stopped TO fear. Gathering up her
flowing skirts. and on hands and knees,
she crawled over the long bridge.
Slowly lie after tie was passed. 1t was
already time for our train to come
dashing over the bridge and hurl her
VI. I...f II