The Russellville Democrat., 1892-03-10

| search for some knowl-
edge Of my child, but
without amy tangible clue, and only
enough of that which was IN
tangible to form the basis for hope
or an impression that she was living.
! Under that impression have not
only secured Italy, but every coun-
try in which / had hopes Of finding a
clue. Much of my search pilgrim
age has been made ON the wheel
which some Of you have noticed in
the lookout at the bridge. On the
day on which | applied for the posi-
/ ton as keeper, the last Of my fortune
had been spent, and | had only few
books and my wheel. | could part
with neither of these. My resources
we're exhausted and must be replen-
ished. More than this, | was led to
seek this position from the very fact
that it was solitary and isolated.
The impression was so strong upon
me that, as had exhausted several
years and thousands of dollars IN
search of my child among the PEG.
pie, without results, there might be
pafadoxical providence in pursuing
an opposite course of retirement, Sc
clusion and rest from pursuit.
~ obeyed that impulse, whether
wisely or not, | was in doubt, until
the moment when, on the morning. OF
the recent accident, / took down my
lantern, preparatory to making my
beat over the bridge before the eve
ming train should cross. As
stepped on to the track in front of
the look out | remembered that
had felt strangely depressed all the
/ preceding day, and that my mental
state was not unlike that in which
one recalls the impressions of bad
dream. Before ! had taken six steps
the whole sickening recollections OF
the moment in which the earthquake
began to rock the walls of Naples,
crept over me, because the first OF
those sensations was being repeated.
| knew what was coming, and must
confess. gentlemen, that the motive
of stopping the train, which that in
slant | heard whistling around the
mountain side, before it should reach
the bridge, was intensified by the
feeling that upon my success in saw
ing that train hung that for which
have spent the best of my manhood,
the discovery Of my child. To siynal
from the lookout end of the bridge
was, as you know, hopeless, because
of the curve at the other approach.
1t was equally hopeless to attempt to
run the length of the bridge before
the train would be upon me. That
moment my eye CHANGED to see the
flash of my lantern light upon the
nickel of my wheel, which | had
taken outside to oil. 1t was my only
hopel To make it tread the center
of the track, across the bridge in four
minutes, meant life to that train
LOAF Of human feings and perhaps to
my child-who could sayf Any
thing less meant-well, you know.
~ caught my lantern on to the
handled bar and sprang into the sad
die. With nearly my whole weight
thrown into every stroke, she re-
sponded to my will like part of my
body. | could feel the vibrations Of
the bridge increase with each second,
as the roar of the swiftly approach
ing train grew louder and louder,
Could | save it, A moment more
would tell. AS / flew over the last
span the rocking was tremendous
But, gentlemen, if the span had
snapped when | was within rod Of
the abr tment, / believe that ma
chine would have made the leap and
carried me over, at the speed she was
under. Well, you know the rest
that wheel saved the day, and, gen
tlemen," said the hero of High
Bridge, in a broken voice, "thal
train carried a secret messenger Of
the Italian government, who brings
me certain proofs that my child has
been discovered, and viii soon come
to me.
If the carpets and furniture of the
directors room had never felt the
touch Of tears before, they did that
day.
If you should happen into the
vice presidents room of this rail
road, you will notice the wheel which
made priceless time that night over
the rocking bridge. AT the desk
you will see a man of middle age,
who never looks up at the vince
without a brighter CLEAN in his
clear, blue eyes, a CLEAN whose
warmth and tenderness is exceeded
only when tall and beautiful wo
man enters, and, resting her arm or
his shoulders, says, with a slight
foreign accent, Father, dear, aren't
you most ready to go home with
mei"-Forrest Crissey, in Wheel
mems Gazette.
NEGROES THREAT
To March ON the Poor Farm mt Corsicana