The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1886-07-08
THE DIAMOND DOLLAR.
Which Illustrated the Ups and
Downs Of Journalism.

''Worst thing in the world for weak
eyes, young woman"
The young woman looked up from
the magazine in her lap and smiled a
her gray-bearded mentor on the Oppo
site side of the street car. She smiled
with her whole face-dimpled chin, rec
cheeks, full lips; even the eyes behind
the convex glasses of her priAcene;
twinkled.
Thank you," she said, shutting tho
book softly, Il know it. was merely
CHANGING at the pictures.
Then she turned her amused glance
toward the front part of the car, and
met the eyes of the driver staring
straight at her. His face lighted VI
when her glance met his, and with his
rough glove he patted the left side of his
coat, as though it shielded something
which concerned her.
The car was one of those little wheeled
boxes locally known as the Pound
Gap Bobtails," which ply between
Cincinnati and its Kentucky suburb,
Newport. The driver, sole autocrat,
dividing his time among the mules, the
passengers and the small bows who
everywhere mark bobtail cars for their
own, was muffied to the mouth in an old
oil-skin coat, belted at the waist with a
leather strap. His cap was pulled down
TO shield his face from the rain, into
the teeth of which he was forced to
drive, and when he entered the car to
collect the fares his heavy cowhide
boots completed grotesque picture,
which would have attracted att ,ntion
even in Castle Garden. Evidently he
cared less for style than for comfort.
What is the fare to Newport?'
-'Ten cents, please"
started at the musical voice, and
looked at the man closely.
"Wh-a-a-t?" [ said, mot Ferguson,
of the GGzette?"
Same party. dear boy, same party"
He laughed in the honest. whole
souled way that | knew so well. rang
the bell of his punch twice, smiled at
the pretty girl, who seemed to enjoy
my surprise, and then clattered out to
his place at the brake, where present
ly i"ined him.
''This is rough, Ferguson, deuced
rOugn-twelve dollars week and
seventeen hours a day! Can't you do
better than this?"
Classical occupation, dear boy.
One of the children of Greek mythology.
you will remember, aspired to drive a
car-h;s father car, but while his route
was a trife dryer than mine
lit was not necessary to make a guy
of himselfin cow-hide boots. That girl
inside is laughing at you"
Il know ii. She always does when
she rides with me"
He looked through the glass door of
the car, and again patted the side of
woman's eyes. The gesture seemed to
please her.
Another case of the maiden and the
-coachman," remarked Ferguson, as he
slowed up to take on a passenger.
Evidently he had lost none of his high
spirits since he had drifted ont of Jour-
nalism into the street-car service.
But seriously now, don't you know
her?"
No. can not say that do" l said,
severely.
That's Virginia"
looked again at the girl. She was
as charming specimen of young
womanhood as is often met with even
in the cultured parts of Kentucky.
The infantile cheeks and dimpled chin
toned down the severity of her eve
glasses, and from the brown plume in
her hat to the narrow toe of her shoe
she was what is popularity known as
stylish" Du Maurier might have
copied her pose for that of one of his
high-bred women.
''Yes. sir, that's Virginia. You have
laughed at nv verses TO her three years,
and if we drop all the passengers before
the end of the route is reached L will
take you inside and present you. She
knows you by name already. / have
talked with her about you hundred
times. She likes that little story of
YOURS, The Cruise of the Mermaid,
immensely, and always looks up your
column the first thing in the Clarion.
Then he seemed to drift into another
line of thought.
Eyes, sir, it is rough" he said,
eighteen hours day, seven days in
the week, is too MANY hours for a man
to work; but, thank God. 1 am done!
This is my last trip. have something
here"-he tapped the left side of
his oil-skin coat, again-"which has
put me on nv feet. Virginia and had
several blocks, alone, together. this
morning, and she knows. That's what
we are so gay about. You remember
that Diamond Dollar?"
Did / remember it? 1t was that
Diamond Dollar" that cost Ferguson
his desk on the Gazette. Not more
than two months ago he was as dapper.
wen-dressed and apparently successful
a man as there was in the Cincinnati
reportorial fraternity. His duty was
the covering of the news along the river
fronts of the Kentucky towns facing
and above Cincinnati, and, being n
graceful writer, he managed to get in
a column or two of breezy special mat
ter on miscellaneous subjects each
week-every column of such matter
being clean addition of five dollars to
his not princely salary.
1t was nine O'Clock one Thursday
night when word came over the tele-
phone wires from the fire chieftain' $