The sea coast echo. [volume] (Bay Saint Louis, Miss.) 1892-current, 1892-08-27
scrap of paper on which was printed

"WANTED-Ah hero. APPLY AT 81. Back
ALLEY. DICK"
The clerk smiled as he read, but he
had furnished Dick with papers far too
long not to know some purpose and
plan were working in the lads mind,
SO he marked it ''pd" and sent the
queer advertisement up to the compos-
lng-room Just as it was written.
Most of us, in these days when we
air our grievance in the newspaper,
know the delightful expectancy of
looking forward to seeing ourselves in
print, but to Dick it was the opening of
new heaven and new earth. He
could not sleep for it, and when his
papers were passed over the counter in
the gray dawn of the next morning, he
could scarcely open one, his hands
trembled so; but there it was, and he
gloated over it all day as his shrill,
childish treble called out: "He-ays yer
papers! Noos, Her-rul, Wur-rul!" He
wondered who would see it, who would
answer it. He never doubted its ulti-
mate success in bringing him into close
personal relationship with his hero.
Auo AAS lIo dIlu loIu Tcdu ana re-
read their advertisement with linger-
ing delight, talking of the hero who
would come, and they pictured him like
the heroes of their favorite melodramas,
as Monte Cristo, crying: '"The world is
mine!' from sea of ice; and Davy
Crockett barring the door with his good
right arm. But no one came in answer
to their advertisement. They were
surprised and little disappointed, but
comforted themselves with the thought
that heroes must have many calls upon
their time and waited on in patient
hopefulness.
One day, while they were still expect
ing hint had been dreary, rainy
day, and was growing quite dark
Dick was making his way homeward
crying the last of his papers. But no
one seemed disposed to buy, so he left
the main thoroughfare and plunged
down the dark alley that led to the
squalid quarter where he lived.
He was walking along absently
enough. thinking of his hero so eagerly
desired and so slow to come, when he
was startled into consciousness by the
quick Shrek of an engine calling,
warning some one out of its relentless
way, and there, at the crossing, was an
old woman, bent and feeble, picking
her way along, utterly unconscious of
danger, while coming nearer, nearer,
nearer, borne on by it's own momen-
tum, implacable az fate, was heavily
laden freight train. In vain the en-
gine shrieked it's warning, in vain her
poor dog pulled at her skirts. She
neither felt nor heard, but kept on her
slow way, muttering to herself
Nearer and nearer comes the iron
monster. A moment more and the en-
gineer turns away his head with a
curse that is half a prayer that he may
not see the sickening sight when the
bent old body is caught under tha
wheels. But in that second Dick has
made great plunge forward and
dragged the poor creature off the track.
But he slipped as he made the leap
and when the train had passed on the
shining steel rails were wet with blood,
and one foot lay upon the track a
crushed and shapeless mass.
1t was almost of no Importance in
the great world. Dick himself would
have been the first to tell you there
was nothing heroic in the deed-no roll
OF drum OF waving Of banners, nobody
to see it done. A street gamin had
risked his life to save an old woman
scarcely worth the saving. That was