The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1882-03-27
SELECTED STORY.
How Jerry Saved the Mills.

The dull, cold day was at its close; but
the heavy rain and strong south wind which
had swept the town since early dawn con-
tinued with unabated fury. The gale shrleked
as it tore about the corners and lashed the
faces of the few hurrying foot passengers;
while the driving rain penetrated everywhere,
drenching the streets, flooding the cutters,
and collecting in deep, treacherous pools at
the corner crossings. The bare trees moaned
and writhed and Wept. The swinging sign
boards in front of small taverns creaked and
groaned dsmally; the tall chimney OF the
Dnmbleton knife works rocked threatening
ly: and in the midst of all the tumult the
great river was swelling and strainlng at It's
wintry bounds, while sharp cracklng
sounded ever and anon from the broad held
of ice that stretched from shore 10 shore,
and little streams of water began to appear
here and there running swiftly along the
frozen plain.
March had come in like lamb; it was de-
parting like lion; and shrouded by wind
and rain ard heavy mist, the last night OF
the month came thickly down.
1t was past suppei time, past closing time
for the mills and factories, past trading time
for the stores, and except for an occasional
light here and there in some saloon or cor
ner grocery, the windows along the business
streets OF the town were dark, and the ram
beat unheeded against their black panes.
Few people were abroad, and even those
few seemed to have been forced upon I'M
welcome Journeys, for they FASTENED through
the sloppy streets with bent heads, SILVER
ing as the sharp winds tore at their wrap
pings or the gusts of rain beat upon them.
One such man, clad in heavy oa-cloth
coat, was walking rapidly up State street,
when, Just at particular window corner, he
came in sudden contact with lad who was
crouching in front of a bakers window,
where single lamp still burned, cycling
with hungry gaze the dainties within.
"Halor' cried the man, starting back,
81 almost ran over you, my boy" Then
looking more sharply at the dripping figure
before him, he continued "Why, Jerry, is
that you?"
Eyes, sir,'' replied the other, half pulling
his tattered cap from his head. IF you
please, sir, it's me-"
whats wrong?" said Mr.. Watterson, the
proprietor of the great mills that skirted the
river. for il was he. "What's wrong? Why
are you not at home? Inc mills closeu
two hours ago."
81 know it, sir; but haven't worked this
week, sir, for sister Nellie's sick, an I've
been a-nussin' of her up to our boardin'
house. You see, sir, since Mother died, an,
house was sold, Nellie an me has stopped
at Mis- Crawford's boardin' house; but my
moneys give out, an Mis- Crawford she told
me this mornin'-she said, sir, this mornin'
she said, sir, this mornin"-bhe boy stopped
abruptly.
"What? Come, Jerry, speak out, you're
not afraid of me, tell me what she said.
swell, sir, she did say as how l must pay
our board every week in advance now; for II
Nellie was again to be sick an was again
to quit work to nuss her, she didn't see how
she'd get her money. An our week ran
out to-day, sir. and my money too; all but
twenty cents, an that l spent for oranges
for Nellie. An Mis- Crawford, she said as
how Il couldn't eat at her table, 'thout
paid first. So jest slips out into the street
at meal times, for fear Nellie ID know l
wasn't eatin', an 'twould worry her, she
bein' sick. An that's how I came here,
sir.'
The boy finished, half frightened at his
long speech to "the MASTER" and again
pulled at his raggel cap, while the March
wind tossed his yellow hair about his wet
face and the cold rain beat upon his
scantily-clad shoulders.
Mr.. Watterson stood for moment in deep
thought. 1t was hard for him to realize
such poverty as this, and among his own
hands too. Jerry was a "bobbin boy in
the mills, whom he had known for year or
more by sight, the only support OF
widowed mother and sister now of the
sister only; it seemed that the lad had
always been bright-faced and CHEEKY, and
the great proprietor remembered him as
the happiest among his boys That this
child could actually suffer for food while
striving to care for his little charge 1.-THE
orphan Nellie), seemed to the gentleman too
terrible to be true.
And vet there just before him, his honest
blue eyes telling the same story which ais
lips had repeated, stood Jerry dinnerless.
supperless and almost homeless, upon this
the widest night of all the year.
Mr.. Watterson forgot the rising flood,
which even now was threatening his mills;
he forgot the urgent errand which had
driven him out in the storm, and he seized
the boy by the arm, pushed open the door
of the little bakery before which they stood,
and fairly dragged him within.
ssHeren he cried to the bakers wife, who
came, bowling and smiling, to execute the
great mans commands. 'See! Give this
lad the best supper you can cook and all the
provisions he can carry, and send the bill to
me-" Then, hurriedly drawing some money
from his pocket-book, he thrust it into
Jerry's hand, and said:
"When you have eaten, go back to Mrs.
Crawford's and pay her for month in adj
vance, Then find doctor for Nellie, and
After that come back to me at the mills. If
they are stan1ing, you shall have work. No.
Not wordr' he continued, as the astonish-
ed boy would have spoken. "The money is
present to you and Nellie from me-" And
before Jerry could recover from his surprise
Mr.. Watterson had gone.
Supper! money! and a doctor for Nellie!
Could it be true? The boy unclasped his
hand and looked at the precious bills. Yes,
1t was true.
As he ate the bountiful meal prepared for
him by the bakers good wife, the bobbin-
boy pictured Nellie's delight when he should
return and tell her of what had happened to
him; and, later, when he faced the dreary
Storm homeward bound, with great basket,
heaped with buns and cakes and oranges
from the bakers shelves, upon his arm, his
heart was light and his laugh rang merrily
out across the darkness and the rain, as he
thought how boldly he would meet Mis-
Crawford, and how astonished and puzzled
she would be when he paid her-not
week, but month in advance!
"Its Just like a fairy storyr' said he, half
aloud, as he climbed the sloppy steps of his
boarding house-'just like fairy story
with great, big, splendid, rich man fairyF'
1t was almost morning. Already the black
curtain of night, rent here and there by the
furious WIN, Wdo SLOWLY illIiDS tOWdlu buc
east, and the dull gray dawn appearing,
forming sombre background, upon which
the leafess trees hat fringed the far away
hills were painted in waving silhouette.
Since ever the sun had gone down, the
wild storm had continued, and even now
the rain driven by the mighty wind, fell in
long, slanting lances upon the town and the
frothing river, that filled with great masses
of broken ice and debris from all the up
country, roared and plunged between its
banks and shook with giant hands the
foundation of the mills beneath which it ran.
At the head of the dam, where the channel
was the narrowest, and directly opposite the
Watterson mill, was an ice JAM
Piled block upon block, until it lowered
high gin the air pressing with terrible force
against the mills, upon the one hand, and
the natural wall of rock upon the other, the
broken ice had formed a great white barri-
cade, growing each momeut, which checse ed
the mad rush of the water and sent it swirl
ing backward in eddying waves, which beat
furiously upon the mills and threatened each
instant to engulf them.
Along the higher shore the townspeople
had gathered, powerless to aid, but simply
tho opd o,Oopn them