The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-09-13

would plug in the steam with his thumb for
stopperg When an engineer shuts off steam and
sets the brakes he can take his choice-sit there
like simpleton and shake hands with DEATH or
take his chances by jumping off. And l want
to say to you right here that the who
shakes hands with death seldom comes away with
a full complement of thumbs and fingers,
if he is lucky enough to come away at all 1t
| seeLls to mo that men-railway engineers in
cluded-owe something to their families as we'll
| as to their love of cheap notoriety."
The Philosopher not quite so sure of there
not being some compensation in sucn DEATH
"And where is the compensation, I'd like to
knows" retorted The Grumbler. Frank Brown.
fattened out like toad run over by road
roller, is hero for about forty eight hours, and
no more, and thea he's buried. and then forgot
ten. And. worse still, in not one of those flying
hours is the hero conscious of the glory he
wears. The only possible chance of satisfaction
he has is in the all-too-brief moment between
the instant he jams in the throttle and sets the
brake. and the next. in which fate finds him
| pinned under his machne-his no longer, for
| the poor devil is dead And the poor devil is
dead is about all the encomium he gets. He
would better have made the jump after revers-
ing the engine, so that to-day he might still be
| with those at home, to dandle his babe on his
knee and kiss into smiles the little woman who
stands at the gate to await the home coming Of
him who will return more forever.
But that isn't the worst of this business
1t makes me incontinently mad and sick to
read of such things as this and as that of the
| al he pirl af
raise, who, in her death agony realized that she
was fatally hurt, and cried out for priest and
not doctor. as the coming of the latter would
entail an expense upon her poor mother. That
was a case of genuine heroism and self-abnega-
ton. With the hand of death upon her. with no
chance to jump and escape and with no
| thought of being found heir to evanescent fame,
she thought of the mother, and died with her
| comfort assured so far she could make it.
There is worse feature of unnatural deaths
| than these two present I read of a young
woman found few nights ago concealed in one
| of the bosky hooks of Central Park-that mag
nifcent pleasure ground of a still more magnif-
cent city. A, lynx-eyed policeman spied her
| there, and, going up to her, found her sitting
saturated with blood from wound self-inf1icted.
On the bench beside her was the pistol with
which she had attempted to kill herself. Asked
why she did it, she said:
81 want to die. / am tired of life. Ever
| since was girl l have waited for death 1t
did not come, and got tired of waiting That's
| ALL
"'You have not had trouble with a MANI
"Indeed, I have not. There is no love affair
about this.
'Now, l contend that there is something
wrong in all this Too many people are tired of
| life, too many tired of waiting for the end
What is the matter with this machine called mani
1 can understand how man or woman, in
moment of passion or despair. could slip a cog
and hang himself, or, as this woman, attempt to
put bullet through her heart. 1t would seem
that the great manufacturer of these sentient
machines, with thousands of years experience,
should be able to set them up so perfect in
struction that the slipping of an eccentric the
breaking of a crank pin would be next to impos-
| sible."
'There is such thing as being impious," sug-
gested The Philosopher
II understand" replied The Grumbler; land
have inclination to venture on any
thing of that kind. But l do be-
| lieve that there is something radically
wrong in the makeup of good many men, and
women too, for that matter. If l were phi
losopher," he continued significantly, II might
be able to seek out an explanation of this thing,
but since am not, it is left for to complain
about it. 1t may be that the Creator bad some
| purpose in it; but it is demonstrable fact that
humanity is very far from being perfect even as
| humanity. There are too many wind-shaken,
worm-eaten specimens. Either the Maker of
this mechanism is purposely at fault, or human
ity is criminally careless in allowing
man walks with eyes wide open
right into the sun of splendid success, wins hon
ors in war, in affairs of state or in the struggle
for wealth. Another, built on the same general
plan, wins nothing, and at best is content to be
skulker or, if he attempt anything, fails, and
is not surprised or chagrned. A Texas cowboy
| shoots his way out of of his enemies
and laughingly rides to liberty over as many
dead bodies as they care to offer to his ready
pistol. Another man gets the mental Jim
jams over real or imagined trouble, and instead
of shooting anybody else, shoots himself,
and imagines that he thus escapes. |
don't mean to argue that every man
should run amuck, but simply note these con-
tradictious as phenomena that can't reconcile
with common sense; and common sense, argue,
| should be the heritage of all.
"This awful flaw in the constitution of man
kind should be repaired somehow. It's daily
record of suffering and death is appalling. The
world every twentyfour hours sweeps the d.
| apason of crime, from murder to self-murder
Then there are innumerable others who suffer
on and make no sign men and women. like the
lone one in Central Park, from her
earliest recollection tired of waiting for
death. Just think of it! Tired of
being ones self I sometimes think
that il would ha nerciful in Providanca IL si1ch