The leader., 1898-06-29

smart birds were enjoying those worms
of delicious joy-the first boom of the
new cannon (Which | hope will not eX-
plode in your faces before the day IS
over), and the rattle-te- bang of the hrst
bunch of firecrackers, thrown mali
ciously under your poor uncle's win
dow. Well, you see, your uncle Is 60
ing to return good for evil Il hope you
will think it is goodD, and is going to
tell you a story-tell you how 1t hap
pened that Mr.. Duckworth, Jr., was
once on time up and stirring in a
lively manner about three o'clock a. III.
But first of all l must tell you who
Johnnie was and where he lived. John
MES home was wee little house, as
neat as pin and as yellow as butter
cup, that stood all alone on a small fiat
plain, a sort of clearing by the rail-
road, which was as hot as pepper in
summer and as cold as Greenland in
winner. From the windows on one side
of this little house, built by our hero's
father, could be seen he railroad tracks
glistening a short distance; and from
the windows on the other side could be
sCtH Il U" iIsSl tHdb Idi
more charmingly. So Johnnie's mother
had always thought, and invariably
took her sewing to the window in the
parlor, from which, when she raised
her eyes from the enormous rents made
by her son in his clothing, she could
watch for a moment the peaceful, flow
ing water. Father Duckworth, how
ever, always drew his chair to the op-
posite side of the room in his rare hours
of leisure, and every now and then,
dropping his paper into his lap, be
would gaze out over his round glasses
lovingly at the straight dashes of steel.
His face would simply beam with de-
light when the house began TO quiver
gently, then to shake more and more
violently and then to dance as a thun-
dering train whizzed by. When a slow
freight tangled over the tracks, he
would lean out of the window and ad-
dress funny remarks to the men on
board, for Mr.. Duckworth knew all the
"hands." All his life he had worked re-
pairing those rails, and he loved them
next to his wife and Johnnie. Mr.. Me-
Kinley could not be prouder to be pres
ident than John Duckworth was to be-
long to the section gang" company
of men employed to keep the tracks in
order. He used to say to his son: eff
your life is as straight and fiawless and
bright as them rails you'll reach the
place | want you to get to all right. I'll
la there to meet you and your good
mother" Johnnie did not half under
stand this wise saying, yet he always
looked politely solemn; but Mrs. Duck
worth ever brought to earth this one
flight of her husbands fancy by beg
ging him not to make her so sad; and
then she always added-partly, it would
seem, as If to show her own ability for
speaking fancifully-that she hoped
Johnnie's life would be as deep and as
clear as the river. So Johnnie grew up
with poetic awe for the river and the
rails. He learned all about his fathers
business, and Mr.. Duckworth took just
pride in his sons knowledge. ! doubt
if many boys know as much about cars
and engines and their tricks and man
ners" as Johnnie knew.
After poor Mr.. Duckworth had died
of sunstroke while repairing some
sleepers few miles up the track at the
little village station, Johnnie, although
overwhelmed with grief, told his moth
er with pride that as soon as he was
old enough be wanted her to make him
some Jumpers, and then he would take
bis fathers place in the section gang
and would support her. Mrs. Duck
worth smiled through her tears, and
was brave and patient for her boys
sake.
The months passed slowly by, and
two years had gone since Mr.. Duck
worth's death, when my story begins.
Through these years Johnnie had
trudged regularly to the little school
house, which was a long ways off, and
was standing finely in his lessons; and
his mother spent her time missing him
and expecting him, and sewing to sup
port him. Her neighbors used 10 ask
why she didn't come off the plain and
live among them, more coZy like"
where the trees grew. but both she and
Johnnie felt it duty to stay where
they could watch the long sweep of
railway track. Johnnie's interest in
everything concerning the trains con-
tinued and grew, and the boys in the
neighborhood used to laugh and call
them his big pets.
Johnnie was serious boy, and his
fathers death made him more so. He
did not seem to care to play with other
boys very much. His mother used TO
urge him to do so, saying that be was
getting too old-fashioned. yet dreading
all the time that he would follow her
advice. for he was very eompanionable.