The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-03-12

ter of form, unless. indeed, the personal
equation entered into the transaction.
And yet A Carroll-so uncompromising
on paper, SO infallible, so prompt SO
austere in the performance of duty
was only a fiuffy-headed girl, a Yankee,
so-called, whose father had come south
10 die OF consumption and leave his
motherless daughter a stranger among
strangers.
Rocky Ledge was no earthly paradise.
OF its 100 inhabitants, three-fourths
were black, and the remainder, with
the exception of the railroad agent her
self. were the traSliest of white TRASH
The nearest gentleman" was at Colo
nel Singleton's plantation. three miles
distant. But if Amy Carroll ever goS
lonely or sick at heart. or ever pined for
the smiling fields of Wisconsin, no one
heard of it She might grow weary of
the eternal pine barrens that crowded
un close to the track and almost IN
vaded her back door, she might fear
that the ague would in time rob her OF
her robust health, and dye her blooming
skin a sickly yellow: she might tremble
at times for her refinement among the
unlettered horde around her. But her
sunny face never clouded. The drip
ping brakemen who bedraggled her
white. clean floor on tempestuOus nights
never missed her bonny words, and
Barney Mccall. the handsOmest con-
ductor on the division, swore daily that
one Of the little Yank's" smiles was
better bracer for him than three fingers
of whisky.
when Fan-Tan. a notorious colored
outlaw Of the neighborhood. was car
rie-5- into her Office one night, with his
body nearly severed by the down freight
and his life blood fast oOzing away,
she bravely sat by him and sponged his
brow until he had breathed his last.
The wild-eyeG black group around her
on that memorable night afterward de-
clared that Fan-Tan took Miss Amy for
an angel and fancied he was in heaven
some time before he died. He might
easily have done ii, for her sweet, pity
ing face that night was as white as any
piece of sculptured marble. On that
same night Colonel Singleton, in the
comfortable sitting room of the big
plantation home, declared with an eN-
preston not found in dictionaries, that
Amy Carroll. Yank or no Yank, was
girl after his own heart
Not after your heart, papa" cor
-ected his daughter, Charlotte, with
sly play upon his words. but after
your dutiful son. Rods, heart.
Frederick could hardly marry girl
in her station, Charlotte" said the
mother, with a langour that evineed
no ao3rehensions.
''Rod could marry gypsy if she were
worthy of him." answered Charlotte,
spiritedly, with a note of sisterly pride
in her voice, and the colonel quietly
chucllled TO himself behind the pages of
his Atlanta Constitution.
About a month later, one night IN
early June, No. 19 down freight for
Savannah was wrecked at the sixty
sixth mile-post one mile below Rocky
Ledge. A brakeman lost his life. A
posse of indignant planters, assisted by
the train crew, secured the swamp with
dogs for the criminals, and before sun
rise a negro named Fillmore was dang
ling from the arm of a telegraph pole.
The subsequent excitement among the
blacks in Rocky Ledge was intense,
though manifested in way character
istic of the negro. Their dull, muddy
eyes and sullen movements were not 60
be misinterpreted. With hanSdog looks
they shifted about the settlement in
GuslSy groups. mainly oscillaunS be-
tween the two saloons and giving vent
to their wrath in rolling eyes. nouting
lips and mumbled threats and curses
childish manifestations, but such as
with this race, may portend the most
terrible outrages.
The first violence was the stoning
from ambush of the north-bo6ld pas
senger from Savannah. The news at
once spread over the division by tele- |
graph At noon the conductor of the
down freight looked in at the coy |
little Office TO see how things stood with |
Miss Amy. She told him with a smile |
that she guessed everything was all |
right. but she did it only because she !
fancied that that was what a man |
would have done. At . o'clock Barney |
McCalls handsome face, with its ra- |
pier-like mustachios. was thrust in the |
ticket window. He got his usual |
"bracer" but he imagined it was a |
little diluted.
You're lookin' little peaked, Miss |
Yank. amt you?" he demanded.
'Maybe. but l don't feel that way"
she answered. cheerily. Il don't think |
there Will be any more trouble, but if |