Connecticut western news., 1885-06-03
THE SWITCH-TENDER.
FROM THE FRENCH OF 0. DE BANS.

among the blossoming apple trees. It is early morning, and all is light and freshness. The door opens, man ap- pears at the threshold, smile on his, face and an expectant look in his eyes. There is 8 movement behind the trunk of an apple tree. The mans smile grows broader, and from the tree, like dryad, rushes charming little fiaxen- haired girl, who throws herself with burst of laughter into his arms.
 ''May I take the little one, Celine ?" said the father.
 At these words lovely blonde made her appearance.
 "Again !" she said with a shade of an- noyanee. @ e
 "Oh we share her very fairly" said the man, with the kindest and most paternal smile. eff you knew," he re- sumed, Chow quickly the hours pass when she is down there with me-"
 "Don't you think I know, when l find them so long in her absence ?'
 It was embarrassing. Aimee herself began to be troubled by this converse tion, and feeling that she could not please both these beings that she loved so much, she was ready to cry. Celine saw it at once and yielded.
 "Take her, Laurence, would rather have her go than feel badly about it." The father at these words showed some feeling.
 "No," said he, in his turn, "keep her, you deserve it; you love her best" And the discussion began again, but it was this time struggle of generosity. At last the husband took his darling in his arms, and smile reappeared on the child's lips.
 Celine looked longingly after them, and re-entered the house.
 One morning, without saying any thing to Celine, Laurence took the little girls hand to lead her away, when her mother suddenly appeared.
 "Whatr' she said. ''You would take her without telling mel"
 "Don't think that" said Laurence, in some confusion. ''We were in fun-we were going to hide behind the trees and see you look for us.
 "Oh !" said Celine, doubtfully.
 ''Listen, Laurence" she continued. ''Aimee grows more restless and trouble some every day. It is dangerous to let her go with you"
 "What do you mean ?" said the man turning pale.
 "I mean that am afraid of your rail road, with it's trains and locomotives. 'fYou are very foolish"
 ''Ieave her here. can hardly breathe while my little girl is down there. It ii frighlful to think of, but she might gel away and be killed"
 ''Don't talk so, Celine."
 ''She might run away while you ar, at the switch, and if you left it to lool after her, you would fail in your dHty and might be the cause of dreadful disaster"
 "Oh, Celine, I beg of you. don't ? cried Laurence, who shuddered at tho idea.
 The young woman did not insist. Tn, switch tender gradually recovered him self.
 'My poor Aimee p he cried, embrac ing the child frantically. "It is too bad Celine; it is shame to frighten me so.
 Celine smiled, and the conversation ended as usual with these words fror Laurence:
 "You will come for her at noon"
 Little by little their terrors fade away. Laurence reasoned with himself
 "The child" he said. ''is familis with the passage of the trains, it true, but she is old enough to comprt bend the danger" And his appreher sions gradually vanished.
 One evening, however, when he wer home he found he had been preceded b the rumor of an accident which had ot cured at a neighboring station. brakeman had been crushed by an e1 press train. Celine questioned her hu band while they were at supper. 'Is true that Simon is killed ?' she aske,
 ''No;" replied Laurence; ''he was great danger, but he escaped, thanks his wonderful coolness."
 '"Then he is not dead ?" said Celin
 ''No; and yet the whole train we over him. When Simon saw 1t was t late to save himself, he lay fiat down the middle of the track, and when tl train had passed by he got up aga safe and sound. I saw him, and ask him how 1t made him feel. At first.