The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1890-11-20
Mr.. WILSON'S TWO COLUMNS.


A Frightful Railroad Accident, and a
shadowy Form Brings the News.
"Mr. Wilson, how soon can you get
ready to start for H, nlinoisg"
'In an hour, SIR"
This conversation took place in the
Office of The.New York Chronicle one
morning as The men on the staff came to
receive their assignments. If the city
editor had asked Wilson how soon he
could get ready to start for Alaska he
would have received precisely the same
reply.
Edward Wilson hurried off to his
rooms, and hastily packing a few neces-
saries in valise reported back at the
Office in exactly an hour
He was paragon of reporter" you
will say, "this Wilson" But he was
merely an ordinary city staff reporter
who, like thousands of others on the big
dailies of America, stand ready at an
hours notice to start for any part of the
world.
"This Illinois story will bring two col
umns; even if I'm recalled Immediate
ly," he unused, as he ratified up to the
Grand Central station in hanson;
"two columns will bring my bank ac-
count up to 800, and 800 will bring the
wife and little one to New York" Will
son thought with delight how happy
they would be in his comfortable little
Lexington avenue fiat, 1t was a pleas
ant little day dream.
In fifteen minutes the Buffalo express,
bearing the newspaper man to his desti-
nation, rushed snorting out of the Har-
lem tunnel like another earth bound
Thor rejoicing at his freedom. Past the
end of Manhattan Island, past River
dale, Yonkers and all the lovely north
ern suburbs of the city, along the rolling
Hudson, past the muddy Mohawk, then
as night fell screaming past the1ittle
hamlets sleeping under the hills of cen
tral New York, and on, on, on, to the
great lakes.
There was nothing in the car to inter-
est Wilson, and as the sun sank behind
the ripening wheat fields he dozed fit
fully, and waking would sleep again,
waking and sleeping by fitful starts and
wondering what it was that kept him in
a vague but all the more fearful terror.
Finally he slept, and it was while he
dreamed. that terrible accident hap
pened. The trestle bridge over a swollen
creek, weakened by the rush of waters,
had given way under the advancing
train and 900 people were hurled into the
creek.
Three or four men hurriedly furnish
ing late copy" A doing Office boy
waking every few minutes to glance at
the clock and long for 2 o'clock and free
dom. The night desks Uttered with
proof slips and "held over copy" No
sound but the operator ticking 'good
night" to his far off brothers and an oc-
casional shout of "Copy!" from the desk
A tall figure in a capped overcoat and
travelling cap enters the room, and 81
lently walking up to the night desk lays
some copy" before the editor The
men in the Office bending over their
work do not see him pass; but the Office
boy, brushing his hat, yawns Good
morning, Mr.. Wilson," but the form
goes straight on.
Cant use this, Mr.. Wilson," says the
editor, looking at the clock. "Why, it's
1:50. The papers going to press. What
is it anyway"
Eyes, by George, we will run it," he
continues excitedly Jim, stop the
presses"
Then to the operator, ''Have you an
accident on the New York and Buffalo
yet"
"No, sir"
How did you get it, Wilson,"
But the form had gone.
MY God listen to this" says the
sub-editor. ''The accident must have
occurred at 80 exactly. Among the
dead was Edward Wilson, reporter on
The New York Morning Chronicle.
What was it then that brought this
copy INF"
II don't know" replied the editor in a
hushed voice. "Send the story up just
as it is. 1t runs exactly two columns"
New York Tribune.