The Van Buren press. [volume] (Van Buren, Ark.) 1859-1914, 1898-07-02

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 first
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 q hope you
will think it is goodD, and is going to
tell you story-tell you how it hap
pened that Mr.. Duckworth, Jr., was
once on a time up and stirring in a
lively manner about three o'clock a. m.
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 small fiat
plain, q sort of clearing by the rail-
road, which was as hot as pepper in
summer and as cold as Greenland in
winter. From the windows on one side
of this little house, built by our hero's
father, could be seen the railroad tracks
glistening at a short distance; and from
the windows on the other side could be
seen a narrow river that glistened far
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 OPP
poste side of the room in his rare hours
of leisure, and every now and then,
dropping his paper into his lap, he
would gaze out over his round glassss
lovingly at the straight dashes of steel.
His face would simply beam with de-
light when the house began to culver
gently, then to shake more and more
violently and then to dance as thun-
dering train whizzed by. When slow
freight tangled over the tracks, he
would 'ean out of the window and adj
dress funny remarks to the men on
board, for Mr.. Duchworth 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.. Nc
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: IF
your life is as straight and fawless and
: 1- hn
place ! want you to get to all right. I'll
be 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
,Jobnnie's life would be as deep and as
clear as the river. So Johnnie grew up
with a 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 a 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 he wanted her TO make him