Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1883-03-01


Yes, the shrek of the whistle told
her she was seen and understood.
Slower, slower went the wheels, until
at last, just as the curve was reached,
the long train stopped, and the people
looked out to ascertain the cause of
the delay. But where was the brave
girl who had risked her own life to
save the lives of strangers? Down on
the ground, almost under the very
wheels, poor Bessie lay, her courage
having suddenly forsaken her when
the danger was over.
Many hands were extended to raise
her; consciousness was finally restored,
and the story told from her trembling
lips as she pointed in the direction of
the curve. Several of the passengers,
together with the driver, stoker and
guard of the train, returning from an
Investigation of the disturbed track,
soon made plain to those present the
nature of the danger from which they
had been rescued.
One Of the passengers, who had gone
to view the rails, now came up and
turning to the guard, said:
"This has been done by human
hands"
The speaker was tall, erect, finely
built young man, probably about
twenty-five years of age; dark brown
hair, skin darkened by exposure to
the sun, and a pair of brave, serious,
blue eyes. AS he spoke, Bessie raised
her head from the lap of the lady
where she had been lying, and a single
word escaped her lips.
Walter"
| Low and tremulous as the word was
spoken, the young man turned instant
ly, and for the first time noticed
Bessie.
"Th1s is the young lady who so
bravely-" began the guard; but, be-
fore he could finish his sentence, Walter
had taken one stride to where Bessie
lay, and raising her in his arms,
clasped her to his heart.
"Bessie, my darlingi Thank
Heaven, have found you at lastr
The surprise of the people present
may well be imagined.
"How came you here, Bessie, and
just at this time?'
aOh, Walter, how glad 1 am that L
saved your life and the lives of all
these friends p said she, looking
around upon them with her eyes full
of happy tears. "My uncle lives
yonder in that white cottage-ah
there he comes now"
The stopping Of the train had
aroused the interest of several neigh
boring families, and the hospitable Of
fers of dinners and sconveyances to
carry passengers to the station were
literally poured forth.
"Uncle Roger" said Bessie, as we
walked slowly homeward. this is my
best and dearest friend, Walter King.
1 know you'll honor and respect him
for his own sake. as well as mine, when
you come to know him."
81 should be willing to trust to your
Judgment in anything" said Roger,
'and any friend of yours shall be mine
also if he will"
with all my heart, my dear sir, !"
said Walter, in his frank, pleasant
way, extending his hand, which was
most cordially taken.
Bessie said Walter, as they sat
alone in the little sitting-room after
dinner, 81 was on my way to distant
town, to engage in business in large
machine shop there. l had an excel
lent offer, and after You left home l
cared but little where l went; any
thing was better than staying there,
where we spent so many happy hours
together, and feel that our happiness
was over tried all manner of means
to procure your address, but in vain. l
called at your house one day, and your
mother literally turned me out Of
doors. So many people prefer money
to industry, and sneer at the brown
hands of the workingman, said he,
bitterly.
"But, Walter, so long as I am true
to you, what need we mind what any
one says or thinks? You know am
ready and willing to go with you any
where
Eyes, I do know it, my darling"
Well, to make a long story short,
through the kindness Of the rough,
though generous-hearted farmers, the
passengers were all conveyed to the
next station that night, where branch
road would carry them to their jour
ney's end. Walter, however, remained
with us. Many letters which he
showed US proved beyond all doubt
that he was a mechanic Of the first
class; and his clear, blue eyes and
brown, toil-hardened hands gave proof
Of an honest soul within, and steady
and industrious habits. Indeed, his
only crime was that Of poverty-and
that was a terrible one in the eyes
Of Harriet Worthington. Wealth and