News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1890-06-05
THE ACCIDENT.

THE ACCIDENT.
Within Il few miles of it's terminus the
railroad passed through valley, mar
row, to be sure, but of great and unu-
sual beauty The sides and crests of
the surrounding hills were dotted with
the pretty cottages of suburban resi-
dents, but the country was not yet SO
closely settled as to have lost all pict-
uresqueness, and, although the houses
were neat, they were simple, and the
lawns, though well kept, were still un-
disfigured by brazen or cast iron statu-
ary The neighborhood had not yet
reached that stage in its development
where its new houses were built upon
uninteresting plans furnished ready
made to rural carpenters by enterpris-
ing publishers Nor had its occasional
churchyard yet lost all sense of rest and
peace. Simple gravestones there were,
but no pretentious monuments. But
even here death slyly took his victim
unawares or stood forth to fight boldly
for his own as he pleased.
1t was here that many years before
John Dorsey had made for himself a
home, and it was here that he was
now about to die.
There had been an accident. 1t was
most ridiculous. John Dorsey, the con-
ductor of the sleeping car train, had
been the only one hurt. He, however,
although fatally injured, suffered al
most no pain and was entirely conscious
of his surroundings and condition. He
had, indeed stated his belief that he
was about to die long before the doctor
had been able to ascertain the charac-
ter of his injuries or to form any Opin-
ion of the probable result. His in
sistance upon this even annoyed the
doctor.
Dorsey" he said, you must not
speak so. You are too young to die,
and shall save you"
As soon as c0ulG be after the acci-
dent Dorsey had been carried to a
neighboring house, and Dr. Irwin had
been sent for by men on the train who
had known of the intimate friendship
which existed between the two. This
friendship was of earlier date than Dor
sey's connection with the railroad, and
that seemed to Dorsey's fellow en-
ployes to have begun almost ages
before.
Although Dorsey had been always as
frank and candid as man well could
be in reference to all his later life, in
regard to his earlier past he was singu-
larly reticent Among his fellows there
had always been considerable specula-
ton as to what his youth had been.
Some who had known of his intimacy
with DR.. Irwin, and of his ability to
meet upon terms of personal equality
the high officials of the road, and of
their regard for him. believed that he
had been an old college friend of the
doctors, and that some accident of fate
had made him ii working railroad man
while the doctor had secured his profes-
sion. Others less charitable or with an
unhappier experience of the world, and
puzzled by the reports which reached
them of the repeated refusal of Dorsey
to take other positions higher and more
remunerative. believed that he must
have committed some crime, and was
therefore careful not to expose himself
to too bright light
AS a matter of fact, he and the doc
tor had been classmates. but after their
graduation they had lost sight OF each
other for few years while DIR. Irwin
pursued his studies in various foreign
hospitals. Upon his return from abroad
he had heard of the death of Dorseys
wife and child He had looked Dorsey
up and expostulated with him upon his
selection of Il vocation. But Dorsey
was silent us to the reasons for his
choice and quietly persistent in his de
termination not to change his work ii
he could help it.
But as frequently as he could Dorsey
would visit the doctor and stay with
him us much as possible, and their
early friendship lI;tCf-grUwn and ripened.
Tom" Dorsey saiG to the doctor al
most upon his arrival, II am glad they
sent for you. but you cannot do any
thing.
As time went on the doctor reluctant
ly began to believe that Dorsey was
right--that his recovery was impossible.
Deeply aus the doctor V;,s grieved he
was annoyed, too, to feel that his skill
would be of no avail to his old friend.
why did you follow such an in
fernal business?' he asked, impatiently.
Don't, Tom" Dorsey replied. Don't
call it that
And why should you be the only
one to be hurt?'
Was the only oneT' Dorsey asked.
| Yes
THAT is strange. maybe" Dorsc,
said, and then his calmness, which had
been so remarkable, deserted him, but
only for a minute.
what caused the accidentF' he
asked. DO they knowT
Yes" the doctor replied; and he
told of the little land slide which the
engineer had seen almost in time, but
not quite, and the engine had run into
with barely enough force to jar the
train its length. I'VE suppose" he
added, that you must have been shak-
en- between two cars in some way"
''Will it hurt me to talk?" Dorsey
asked.
No" the doctor answered.
"And my brain is entirely clearP
Certainly" the doctor replied, won
dering little.
''Then let me tell you a great deal.
1 had a fondness always for all cars
and trains The earliest, the pleasant
est recollection | have is of the noise OF
the coupling of cars as they were made
into trains in the yards. No music was
ever SO sweet to me as that. l used tc