Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1890-03-10
D1SSy.

than that on which stood the Gran
berry Creek telegraph cabin of the
Buffalo and Mississippi River Rail
road. 1t was located right in til,
heart of the dense forests of Put
nam County, Ohio, and is, even to
dav, miles removed from habitatioI
of any kind, to say nothing abon
towns and villages.
A good many freight trains pass
the cabin each day; but they usually
rattle by Cranberry Creek withou
stopping, though once in a grea
while it is found necessary to holC
the sslocal' or a section of freight
train, for orders. The cabin itself
was an old boX-car, set at the side OF
the track and painted bright red, SO
that the engineers might see it a long
distance off. 1t was partitinned into
two compartments, one end being the
office and the other end the "bou ORR
of Joe Denman, the operator.
Some eight or nine years ago, on a
SUNDAY afternoon, in the summer
time, joe took his arm chair 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 Creek on
each recurring Saturday evening.
For a man who could not cross his
legs (Joe only had one, having lost
the other when lie was brakeman
our friend made himself as comforta-
BILE a circumstances would permit;
and, as it was pleasant enough day,
Joe Denman was fairly well content
ed and happy. Inside the cabin
could be heard the ceaseless ''click-
click click etty-click' of the little
hammer on the telegraph table, as
messages flew over the circuit of wire
that included 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
operator a hundred miles away.
As he unfolded his newspaper, Joe
glanced up and down the track. He
could see nothing but the deserted
railroad, cut like a deep, narrow
swath through the thick forest. To
the east and to the west nothing was
visible but the two lines of white
and glittering steel rails stretching
away until track and forest and sky
blended in the hazy distance. 1t
seemed so lonesome that Joe was re-
ally grateful to the white post few
yards away, on which he saw in black
characters, &C. 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 a clever edi-
to,Ial that he started almost out of
his chair when he felt the sleeve of
his coat gently pulled. while a hahE
voice said sweetly enough, Hello! !"
The operator dropped his paper to
gaze upon a little child-a 9irl-per-
haps 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 evident
ly the child of poor people; for her
tiny dress was 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 soulr' 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 children and was kind-hearted
fellow.
"Why, little 'un, where did you
blow FROM" he asked the child, as
he gently sat her on his knee. and
with his red bandanna handkerchief
wiped the thick dust off the little
shoes.
''That way" she answered prompt
ly, 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 baby's name?" asked
Joe.
"Dissy."
Sissy repeated Joe, imagining
that he could interpret baby language
very nicely.
""Es'm,' SAID the child, shaking
her head, -"Dissy."
And in all the years that followed
Joe Denman never learned the histo-
ry of the baby girl nor where she
came from on that summer Sunday
He had to remain satisfied that her
name was Dissy, and the only rea-
sonable or probable explanation of
the strange name came once from a
tramp book agent, who suggested
that it might possibly be an abbrevia-
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