The Newtown bee., 1892-04-08
One Day of Duty.

"No, no more railroading in mine, ;
 said the hungry reporter, as he tilted his
 chair back and elevated his heels on the desk that the city editor called his when he was there. "There are some things
 in this world I'm not adapted for. That's
 one"
 The rest of the Hate watch" gather
 prise and amaZement and he continued
 "YOu see, l once applied to a division
 superintendent for a job and was assured my application would be considered the
 very first vacancy that occurred. Then
 1 waited. The suspense was not espec- tally trying to me, but I could see I was wearing on the friends with whom was boarding considerably.
 One day, however, the "caller," the man that rounds up the trainmen when they are wanted to go out on special, came around with note requesting me to call at the superintendent's office. Of course I complied with the request and was told that they wanted me to act as assistant agent for a day or two at a place called Beaufort, or something like that.
 1 wanted to know if I would have time to go and pack my grip, but they seem- ed to think such delay would material ly prejudice the prospects of the road, so l grabbed the pass and made for the train, which I managed to catch after brief but exciting chase. Then my grief, as the railroad men call it, began.
 "This train don't stop at Beaufort, young feller," said the conductor as he pocketed my pass and proceeded calmly on his rounds. 1 would have liked to have asked him what I was expected to do about it, but his countenance was so stern and forbdding I did not dare.
 We were rapidly nearing my destina- tion and something had to be done, so I informed brakeman of my predicament and he very kindly volunteered to ask "Fatty Duff to slow down a little at Beaufort and let me off. I presume he did so, yet if there was any reduction in the speed of the train, it was too slight for my unpracticed eye to detect. The brakeman encouraged me, however and as there appeared to be no other alter native, when we were nearly abreast of the platform, 1 let go and dropped.
 l did not light right away, but when I did land the concussion was something awful and, as I rolled over and over, it seemed to me l must have gathered up about all the splinters there were in that platform in different portions of my anatomy. was still gyrating when the last car whizzed by, but I heard the "hind man's'' timely warning:
 ''Look out, young man, you'll tear your clothes 70
 It was a rickety old station, the walls frescoed with mashed tomatoes. Empty chicken coops, fruit boxes, berry chests and watermelon rinds scattered about the platform exhaled faded and de- pressing odor and the only visible indi- cation of life or death were the swarms of flies buzzing drowsily in the hot sum- shine. picked my way to the office and presented my credentials to the agent, a all, lank man with long neck, care worn features and stiff hat that looked put of place in the midst of such rural He was absorbed in newspaper and it was some time before le noticed me. At length, however, he hrew down the paper, read my letter md invited me to make myself at home. Then he unbosomed himself.
 I'm sick and tired of this business, he 'aid. The works enough to kill mule, put it's the injustice and lack of appreci- ltion that makes me hot. You can't pick ID a paper without seeing lot of rot lbout the heroism of locomotive engin- ers and the terrible responsibility that makes train dispatchers hump-shoulder- d before their time, but never single,