The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1889-08-21
Selected Storm.
Dissy.

west, more absolutely lonely spot
than that on which stood the Cranberry
Creek telegraph cabin of the Buffalo
and Mississippi River railroad. 1t was
located right in the heart of the dense
forests of Putnam county, Ohio, and is
even to-day, miles removed from a
habitation of any kind, to say nothing
about towns and villages.
A good many freight trains pass the
cabin each day, but they usually rattle
by Cranberry Creek without stopping
though once in great while it is found
necessary to hold the " local." or sec
ton of freight train, for orders. The
cabin itself was an old box car, set at
the side of track and painted a bright
red, so that the engineers might see it
long distance off. 1t was partitioned
into two compartments, one end being
the Office and the other end the bou-
doir" of Joe Denman, the operator
Some eight or nine years ago, on a
Sunday afternoon, in summer time,
Joe took his armchair out and planted
it between the cabin and the track.
Then he planted himself in the chair,
tilted it back against the red wall of his
cabin and commenced to read the
weekly paper which Ben Bolton, the
conductor of the "local," always left
at Cranberry Greek on each recurring
Saturday evening,
For man who could not cross his
legs doe only had one, having lost the
other when he was a brakeman) our
friend made himself as comfortable as
circumstances would permit, and as it
was pleasant enough day Joe Den
man was fairly well contented and
Aappy. Inside the cabin could be
heard the ceaseless "click, click,
clicketty, click " of the little hammer
on the telegraph table, as messages
flew over the circuit of wire that in
cluded Cranberry Creek.
But Joe was such an old timer with
the " ticker" that he could read and
even whistle and talk, when there was
any one to talk to, and still answer
promptly enough when he was called
by the train dispatcher or by some OPP
orator hundred miles away.
AS he unfolded his newspaper Joe
glanced up and down the track. He
could see nothing but the deserted rail-
road, cut like deep, narrow swath
through the thick forest. To the east
anu W luG WSSl uOllluS was NlSlDlc
but the two lines of glittering steel rails
stretching away until track and forest
and sky blended in the hazy distance.
1t seemed so lonesome that Joe was
really grateful to the white post few
yards away, on which he saw in black
characters, " G. 255,' for he was re-
minded then that Chicago at least was
only 255 miles distant.
Joe read on for more than an hour,
and was so engrossed in clever edito-
rial that he started almost out of his
chair when he felt the sleeve of his coat
gently pulled, while baby voice said
sweetly enough, " Hellol"
The operator dropped his paper to
gaze upon little child-a girl-perhaps
four or five years old. She was very
pretty, with soft, plump cheeks and
hands and with hair that was more
white than golden-it was so very fair.
The little one was evidently the child
of poor people, for her tiny dress was
of cotton, her shoes, so dusty, were of
the cheapest kind, and her large straw
hat was untrimmed.
"Hello!" she said again, with a
sweet baby smile, and with as much
confidence as if she had known the
operator all her short life.
Why, bless my soul" exclaimed
Joe, who was more surprised than he
had been when he fell under the wheels
years before. But Joe, old bachelor
and hermit as he was, loved little chill
dren and was a kind-hearted fellow.
Why, little 'un, where did you blow
from?" he asked the child, as he gently
sat on his one knee, and with his red
bandanna handkerchief wiped the thick
dust off the little shoes.
''That way" she answered promptly
pointing her chubby fingers to the west
But Joe was puzzled. He knew there
was no house within four miles in that
direction.
What is the baby's name?" asked
Joe.
"Dissy"
sissy" repeated Joe, imagining
that he could interpret baby language
very nicely.
Co.'S, m" said the child, shaking
her head" Dssy."
And in all the years that followed Joe
Denman never learned the history of
the baby girl nor where she came from
on that summer Sunday afternoon. He
had to remain satisfied that her name
was Dissy, and the only reasonable OF
probable explanation of the strange
name came once from a tramp book
agent, who suggested that it might pos.
sibly be an abbreviation of Eurydice.
For Joe, the operator, took fancy to
the little waif, and, as there was nc
law, or even rule of the railroad, tc
prevent him, he decided to adopt the
tiny, fair-haired stranger. He was sc
generous that he gave up his private
apartment to Miss Dissy, and himself
slept on cot in the telegraph office.
More than seven years passed away
and, according to Joe Denman's calcu
lations, Dissy must have been well nigh
twelve years old She was so old that
although it gave Joe's heart big anC
painful wrench when he thought about
it, the operator had made up his minC
that he must send the girl to a goot
school, where she would have all the
benefits of an education and womanly
training. But as yet he had said moth
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