The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1899-01-06
A LONDON TRAGEDY.

| conversation and manner those OF young
one. Always to be met at the same place,
always at the same hours. Passing 10y the
station on the way to and from my home,
somehow came to know him.
! was not the only one who knew him,
though his acquaintance seemed few. But
one OF my more intimate friends, our con-
versation having drfted from one topic to
another, after short spell of silence, re-
marked:
Have you ever heard Winners story
| you know, the man who haunts the fire sta
tom"
Iisarnlng that had not he told me all he
knew.
Some years ago" he began, Il was little
mere than boy, starting life in the office
OF the Report,
"One day young man called, asking for
work. lie didn't care much what it was.
Liking his eager, hopeful way, the editor Of
fered to try him. and commissioned hun to
report the next big fire.
Fires somehow seemed scarce, and days
passed and yet none came. Disheartened
though he must have been, Wilmer, which
was the young man. name, decided to wait
! and watch outside one of the chief fire sta
tions of London.
DAY after day saw him there, ever ready
| to rush to the scene of fire, but for some
time none came. How he lived no one
seemed to know-indeed, none cared. Day
by day, week by week, he grew thinner, his
eyes wilder.
''At last one morning, the fire bell
| changed; few seconds passed, the doors OF
the station flew open, and the engine darted
out. Eager to catch any particle OF intorma-
| ton as to the whereabouts of the fire Will
mer darted forward.
what happened | do not rightly know.
| There was shout from the crowd hor-
rible thud, and something was carried into
| the station, to be borne later to the hos
pital. That something was Wilmer.
1.-TWO years passed So easily do things
fade from memory that had almost for
gotten Wilmer when one day, passing the
| fire station, as was my won't at which the
accident had occurred was surprised to
| see thin, familiar figure leaning YEARLY
| against one OF the gateposts.
Uncertain whether he would know me
after two years, was about to pass on,
when, turning his head, he caught sight OF
me, and crossing the road stopped me.
Mr. Jackson, he said, tell me, is the
editor anxious for this copy, the notice of
| the fire? And, Mr.. jackson, do you think
| he will fill the post, if I'm not quick, do you!
| 1t isn't my fault, as you know. | have wait
| ed here for weeks, but I've no luck-no luck
| And in his weak state he almost broke down.
For a moment thought he must have
| been to- the office again. But no, was sure
| he had not Then-then he was mad; the
| accident and want had turned his brain, and
| he imagined that he was still waiting for,
copy, wholly unconscious of the two years
that had elapsed,
That is ten years ago, and he stands there
ssilb.,,nHe looks 50 he cannot be more than
| three-and-th thirty; but his weary waiting has
| aged him, and he is now an old man, walt
ing for copy, the copy which never comes.
| After learning his history naturally grew
more interested in HIM, and after "A short
time won my way into his heart by sundry
| loans of odd shillings, to be repaid after the
first big fire.
One night went to his home with him.
1t might more fifty be called kennel. He
was in much better spirits than had seen
| him for long time; indeed ever What
ever was the subject of conversation start
| then lapse into chuckles of merriment and
unintelligibe mutterings.
Now and then caught the words fire"
and looming soon"
The next day his post was empty, and then
| it was that realized what a blank his abb
sence made in my life. Well, would 60 and
see him. thought. Perhaps he was i'll.
just as | was turning away from the fire
station, the alarm hell changed; juggling
of harness. and the engine dashed oil, bear
| ing its brave on their errand of mercy to
| where a dull-red glow was already reflected
| on the sky.
Wilmer was not there, and for the time at
least bcwailcd the unlindness Of fate-un-
| kind Done who had known naught but re-
verses and sorrow.
Anyway, | thought would go, gather all
| the information | could, take it to Wilmer
| # he were indeed i'll, and leave the rest to
| him. Soon reached it, and recognized the
| buildings as belonging to a large firm of pa
| per merchants.
But, though the flames were alone enough
| to hold ones attention, all that | saw was a
short, thin figure darling here and there,
taking notes, regardless of the danger from
| the falling masonry. 1t was Wilmer! See
| ing me, he quickly tore over to where ! was
standing.
| "Ah, jackson, the berth's mine, you see
| all mine Isn't it glorious fire? Ha! ha!
glorious fire! And it is to make my name
my name, jackson! The berth will be
mine-all mine"
And so his brain still dwelt on that time
years before; still he imagined himself n
young reporter waiting for his first chance.
Of he darted, and could see him here
and there amid the red glow, evading tie
vigilance of the watchful police, who were
trying to keep the crowd out of danger.
"Stand back there! Stand back" some
one shouted, but it was too late. Part of
| the wall had fallen-on Wilmeri
| Forward the fremen rushed, and com
menced to haul the hot stonework and debris
from off Wilmer; he might still live. could
stand the inactivity no longer. ] had to
| do something to help him. Frantically
tore the bricks away from him; my hands
were horribly scorched, but cared nothing.
At last we reached him. How still he lay
His face, blackened and burnt, still wore
the look of triumph. Gently We laid him
down and forced brandy between his teeth,
and slowly his eyes opened.
Presently his lips began to move. and
leant down, with a sob rising in my throat,
to catch his words. First. his mutterinGs