The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1891-07-30
THE BABY ON TIE TRACK.
The Pitiful Fate of Little Fellow Who
Went TO Meet Papa.
From the Nero York World


From the NelO York World.
Baby Samuels was IS months old. He
was pink, chubby and dimpled. His
eyes were dark blue, like his mothers, and
his hair was a couple of shades whittier
than the flaxen locks of his Norwegian
father.
Baby's two short legs had mastered the
art of locomotion. Very proud was the
owner OF their accomplishment. So were
Mr.. and Mrs. S. NJ. Samuels. Not that the
legs didn't give out at every three steps
causing baby to go fiat on his nose. Still
baby did not mind these Interruptions to
his onward progress. He exercised his legs
on every possible occasion.
The little one lived with his parents in a
pretty two-story frame cottage. a humid
red yarGS away was the Warfield station of
the Long Island railroad. The line curves
there. The house of the Samuels was mid
way between the two extremities of the arc.
The Samuels are young couple. Baby
was their only child. Mr.. Samuels works
for a Green Wich street commission firm.
Every evening ON his return he was RECALLED
with stories of the marvellous doings Of
baby during the day. And baby himself.
with one small hand clutching the forefin-
ger of papa, would listen to his own praise
in m Oldest silence.
Mr. Samuels was accustomed to reach
Winfield from New York on a certain
train. Baby's small mind began to identify
the railroad and the homecoming of his
father. He began to look upon the line,
with its shining steel snakes and putting
monsters, with fearless affection.
On Saturday afternoon mamma and
baby had a fine time in the fields that sur
Ill
ing on aud papa would be home In an hour
or so. Baby gurgled with satisfaction and
promised to be very, very good, while
mamma prepared the supper.
Mrs. Samuels went into the house, lesv-
ing the child outside the door. Baby sat
still for bit. He watched the railroad
track patiently, but po train hove in sight
bringing papa with it, A sudden resolution
seized him. He would go down to where
the long steel rails glittered in the sun, and
see if he couldn't hurry the train along. He
was so anxious to see dear papa. And he
felt sure papa wanGed to see him.
The tufts Of grass caught the tiny feet
and tripped him up. The punches of weeds
proved serious obstacles to the small legs.
The bushes scratched the tiny limbs. Baby,
tumbling. toddling, scratched and tripping,
held on his way sturdily. Wasn't his papa
somewhere on the linel
The ditch that separated the roadbed
from the fields was at length reached. With
much trouble and more scratches baby got
through it and up its sides. At last, to his
delight, he found himself on the track. he
stood proudly clappiug his hands.
Baby heard a well-known rumble that
told of a train about to round a curve. The
child rose from the rails and clapped his
hands in anticipation. The rumble grew
stronger. BABY, in his excitement and JOY,
stood midway between the rails, watching
for the engine to make its appearance.
He had not long to wait. A snort, a shrill
whistle and the Bug black front of the engine
was near him. Baby clapped his hands as
he Thought of the coming run in the fields
with papa and the ride on his shoulders
The train Tept on. Baby laughed at the
locomotive, lifted his arms and clapped his
hands for papa. There was tiny shrek, a
white face aud baby was dead on the road
side-crushed by the engine.
The train was stopped. The bronze-faced
engineer and fireman, with tears cutting
ribs through thu CRIME of their cheeks,
stopped over a small something that lay in
the ditch. Its white dress had an awful
spatter of blood. The fair face was gone
and in its place was terrible something
that cannot be described.
To-day in the cottage that on Saturday
was light with the sunshine of the child's
presence sit a sad couple watching the white
casket that contains the wreck of their hap
piness and fair young body.
Coroner Havemeyer will hold an inquest
on the child's death and the body will be
buried tomorrow in the Lutheran ceme-
terry. No blame is attached to the engineer
Fred Brunt