The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1891-10-17

MUMMY ncItoer, ahu CEoWuo VI huiAy
ing people, were not quite as familiar
to him and more homelike than his
mothers small, bare house, which he
Apsy al little more than place for
sstlpR and assping
la an ase, when an ordinary baby
might have bsen frightened into Con-
yulsions by the shrek Of q locomotive,
Zoe, sssQrely fastened INTO bis cab,
would stare for hours through the
great window, undisturbed by the in
cessant rush and roar OF arriving and
departing trains.
He had been only 9 months old
when the dreadful accident happened,
which, at one fell stroke, made him
fatherless and transformed him from
a strong, well developed infant to a
pitiful creature, which even death re-
fused to take.
The older yard men told the story
even yet--how young Michael Bryan,
as straight and manly fellow as ever
left his green, old native island for the
side OF the sea, came whistling out ol
the round house that morning and
stepped hastily before an incoming
locomotive, neither seeing nor hearing
another rushing up the parallel track
His mates cried out to him-too late!
Nobody who saw it would ever forget
the look of agony which distorted his
handsome face in that one horrible
instant, when he recognized his doom,
or tho perpendicular leap into the air,
from which he fell back beneath the
cruching wheels.
In the excitement and consterna-
ton OF the time no messenger had
been sent in advance to prepare the
poor young wife for her trouble, and
she stood in the doorway with her
baby Growing in her arms, when the
stout bearers paused at her gate with
their mangled burden. She uttered a
terrible cry and fell fainting-the
child's tender back striking the sharp
edge OF the door-stone.
What pity that it was not killed
outright" said everybody but the
mother. She herself always insisted
that only her constant watching over
the little Pickering life kept her from
going mad in the first dreadful months
OF her bereavement.
The officers OF the railway company
were very kind to poor Mary Bryan.
They paid the expenses OF the burial,
and, after little Joe had slowly mend
ed. employed her about the depot to
scrub the floors and keep the glass
and wood work bright and neat.
When Joe was years old his moth
er sent him to school. He went pa
tiently day after day, making no
complaint, but she awoke suddenly
one night to find him sobbing his heart
out on the pillow beside her. Only by
dint of long coaxing was she able TO
find out the cause OF his grief. Some
of the rougher boys-more thought
less than cruel let us hope-had called
him "Humpy," and asked him If he
carried bag OF meal on his back.
Mary famed with the fierce anger OF
motherhood.
"You shan't 60 another dayl" she
declared. "The ruffians! i won't
have my darlin' put upon by the
likes of theml"
So Jos's schooling had come to an
untimely end. Yet, meager was his
stock OF book-learning, the develop
ment OF his mind far outstripped the
growth OF his stunted and deformed
body. Everybody liked the patient
little fellow, tugging manfully at his.
mothers heavy water buckets and
running willingly at every call of the
station men. At IL years old he had
picked up no small amount OF infor-
nation, especially on railroad topics.
He knew every locomotive on the
road, understood the ,intricacies OF
sidetracks and switches, could tell the
precise moment when any particular
train might be expected with the ac-
curacy Of q timetable. "a.
Yet the very qsticknsss and ardor OF
his nature despened his senses Of his
infirmity. The glances cast upon him
by stranger-syes, some pitifiil, some
curious, others alasl expressive only
of annoy Ance or, disgust, ranked like
so many arrows 10, his heart; not one
missed it mark. How wistfully his
EYES followed bots OF his own AGE
sts1lght, handsome happy--Whoo
sbeang Nightly up and down the steps