The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1892-08-02
SNAP SHOT AT A RoMAIICE.

Showing How the Drummer Gets Many
a Glimpse of Poetry on the Road.
One afternoon, not long ago, I left
Waterbury for Hartford on the 4:05,
and as I stepped into the smoker 1 saw
Charlie Smith, an old friend and fire.
quent partner at whist. Charlie is a
first rate player, and we felt able to
take in any two men on the train; but
we picked up a Hebrew drummer and
an oldfarmer who beat us seven straight
games with apparent ease.
At this point our game was inter
rupted, for we had stopped some dis
lance from any station, and Charlie
and the Hebrew got out to see what
was the matter.
AS soon as we were alone the old gen
tleman, whose name was Elbridge, be-
came quite confidential, telling me how
his pretty daughter-she was pretty,
too; he showed me her picture-was
wooed by several young men and
seemed inclined to favor the least
worthy.
You see," said he, this Bowen is
a worthless critter. He's a drummer,
but he amt no credit to the trade; he's
sorter slick Iookin' and has extry fine
company manners among the girls, but
he is terribly lazy and he wouldn't
recognize the truth if it up and shook
hands with him, which l presume to
say it never did. Now they's a young
chap-Nathan Gibson's boy Arthur
that shines up to Mollie consid'able,
thet's good for somethin'; I'd be willin'
to see Mollie hitch up with him. I've
kinder limited to her thet I shouldn't
never give my consent and that a GER
tain teller might as well sheer off. l
didn't name no names or threats, but
give her delicate hint as to my views"
Just at this point our companions re
turned with the cheerful intelligence
that a mile ahead there was bridge on
fire, and that how or when we should
get to Hartford didn't seem clear. On
reaching the bridge-a wooden affair
over a large brOok-we learned that a
west bound train would be due here
soon, that an improvised footbridge
would be thrown across the brook and
passengers transferred from each train
to the other, both trains then running
back 10 their starting point.
With a resource born of experience,
1 presume, a bridge was made Of ties,
fence rails, ETC., stretching from the
bank to a stone in midstream, thence
to the further side.
The trip across was easy for a man
unencumbered, but twas hard lines for
the trainmen who had the job of trans
ferring the baggage, as the route lay
down a steep bank, Gro the stream,
on a rickety, slippery combination of
ties and rails, then for six or eight rods
through a pine grove and up another
Rteep bank. 1 have before now had
my trunks discussed i~rreverently, but
l never heard them cursed so sincerely
and so fervently.
We had only an hour to wait for the
other train. When it arrived, all hands
bundled across the brook, and as we
reached the pine grove on the other
| side we began to meet the passengers
from the other train. l stepped to one
| side of the narrow path to let a young
lady pass me, when I heard Elbridge,
who was just behind me, exclaim:
"Why, Mollie, what on earth brings
you here now? I didn't expect you
back from your Aunt Mary's for a week
yet"
The girl was completely disconnected
and, after fdgeting, lodging and
glancing nervously behind her, she
caught her fathers hand in both of
hers and blurted out: Father, you
said you'd never consent to my marry
ing him, and I can't live without him,
nor he me, so I've married him and we
we're going home for you to forgive us"
Although this was fired off in a breath
regardless alike of rhetoric and specta-
tors and punctuated only by sobs, l
| couldn't see the funny side of it then,
for the poor girl was genuinely dis
tressed, while her father, white as a
ghost, stood with bullying eyes and
open mouth. Finally he gasped:
"Oh, Mollie, Mollie, what could you
see in that good for-nothin' loafer; why
couldn't you have fancied some
straightforward teller like young Glib
son9'
why, Arthur Gibson is the man 1
married, of course; who did you think
it was9"
"Oh Lord! That Bowen was the
critter I was warnin' you against.
They's no Twin man I'd ruther call SON
in-law than Arthur Gibson."-N. Y.
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