The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1884-04-09
A L HERO.

The ~quaintest class Of people in the WeS'
monopolists of Wall street, who manipulate
stock boards and mortgages, but the hard
worked, poorly-paid and big hearted mel
who drive our Western locomotives, feed tn
roaring fires and risk their neckS, limbs an
lives in clambering up and down, between
and over the cars. A short time since
found myself at a little railroad restaurant
at Union, Ind. | was or my way to fill
lecture appointment in Southern Ohio. |
was about = o'clock in the morning, and
had to wait about three hours for the cas-
bound train. Awhile comfortably toastln
my feet upon the great stove, i'll which
fierce, soft-coal fire was burning, al enginee
and his fireman entered the room. with blac
hands and smutty faces. They seated then
selves on high stools at the lunch cOuntt
and, calling for pie and coffee, began a cha
acteriStlc conversation relative to their o.
cupation in life. Their doll humor is in
possible for me to perfectly describe. At la
the old engineer. rubbing the end of his no:
with the back of his hand, while his finger
grasped the half of a plump pumpkin pr
and holding in his other hand a steam ing ru
of coffee. which he OCCASIONALLY blew upon
cool it, with n peculiar Western drawl ar
deep tone of voice, related the following il
ClueIl, "lllCu al lLlU ollS hilHSoSN -
as being one of the grandeSt recitals | ha
ever listened to. | give his words aS near
as possible, only tranSposing and changil
them sufficiently for ~verSiica.ion. | M
never hearl of the occurrence before,
which the hero was a brakeman by II
nam of
DAVE briggs.
Dave briggs he was a railroad man,
l;>l ~ ,hor.
He didn't go a cent on style,
He wouldn't give a rapp
Fur them as put on dudy clos
An hifalutin' arHs,
An tho't 'emselves some higher up
Than Him upon the s:ars.
He wore a yaller flannel shirt
That made him look Immense,
With thai ar diomon' pin o his
That cost him fifty cents,
Thar wuzn't much in railroadm'
He tho't he didn't know.
He wuz tile brakeman O a train
Upon the B. d @.
But after all he had some streaks
o. common sense i'll him,
A little cream inside his pan
That want too thin to skim.
I've seen him tipSy ez a top,
I've seen him goin' wild,
I've seen him jump an resk his life
To save a leetle child.
One dark December night the track
Got drifted in with snow,
That threw the engine down n bank
A hundred feet below;
An up on end an all about,
In every sort o style,
The busted freight cars got 'emselves
Uncoupled in a pile.
The engineer an fireman both
He'd left the track to stay.
An underneath the smashed cabooSe
The dead conductor lay.
But Dave, he heard the crash in tim,
He jumped with all his might.
An in 4 snowbank, on his heal,
Ker chug. he CHANGED to light.
He hung to his old lantern tight,
He got upon his feet;
Thar in the dark he stood alone,
The wreck waz jist complete.
The snow it beat agin his face,
A bitin' blizzard blew,
The wind jist howled an screamed IN roare
An chilled him thro' an THO.
1t froze the clos upon his back
Ez stiff as any shad,
I tell you twas the proper time
Fur all the sand he hal.
Yis, Dave he had a level heal,
Eff he wasn't much on dress,
He bounded back along the track
To save the night express.
He heard the rumble Of the train
Just ez it hove in sight
: Around the corner. a sudden gust
O. wind blew out his light,
An thar he stood, the wreck behind,
The comm train before,
A hurryin' on to sudden death
A hundred lives or more.
There big an briy ht before his eyes
He saw the headlight gieam;
He heard the rattliu' o the wheels,
The sissin' O the steam.
An leapin' from the railroad track,
Ez past the engine flew,
Into the cab with oil his might
Dave briggs his lantern threw.
It struck the startled engineer,
1t fell upon the floor,
1t rolled along into the light
Before the fire-box door.
He read the letters "B. g. O."
Upon the shattered glass,
He stopped the train before he struck
The pile he couldn't pass.
An Dave, he went to work lext day
Jist ez he alwuz had;
He didn't 60 a.loafin' round,
Nor git the bi ;-head bad.
The city papers put him in
An laid the praise on thic%-
But, sho. for all the fuss they made
Dave didn't care a stick.
He still is brakein' on the road,
He wars that yaller shirt,
A leetle wuss for use, perhaps,
An ruther dark with dirt.
He traded Off tnat damon pin,
Ez sure as YOU were born,
An got a cluster damon ring:
Humph. damon in a horn.
-EugeneJ j. Hall, in Chicago Mter-Oced,