The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1901-12-26

bump" That was the song
IL and rhythm that sang in
Jim's ear, as he lay huddled
up In bed of straw on the floor of an
empty box car. Jim was only tramp,
and was known among his various
chance acquaintances under the So
briquet of Shakes" A heightened
experience with poor whisky and stale
beer had undermined his constitution
and he invariably "shook" after hard
drunk. He had just had one back up
the road, with some of the old gang
under the bridge. AS he lay there on
his improvised bed, he sadly meditated
on his hard lot and attending evils.
For jim was sort of an embryonic
hilOsOpher-cOntact with the world
and the sharp edge of life had started
even in his muddled brain the eternal
why of things. "Night afore Christmas,
and here ye are, shakin away as usual"
he snorted to himself "Went to sleep
on dat booze, an de shack fired me off
dat local train, like 1 was caterpulted."
He shook his begrimed and dirty fist,
in lmpotent rage at the cold and dark
ness. "Dere was ditched- Just ditched
and X-bury most hundred miles
down the road--she's de only town on
de line for Christmas chuck an hand
outs-an' I'll never make it on dis train,
if she is fast stock" He lay still at
last, and feeling of disappointment
and helplessness came over him, as
these thoughts crowded again and
again to his mind. For turkey, hot
coffee, chance dish of cranberry sauce,
could not be gotten at every station
along the line, but at X-bury the
police did not bother, for Jim knew the
ropes there to dot.
"Bumpity bump" sang the wheels
and the trucks together, and it made
Jim think of some poem he had read in
a greasy paper picked up from behind
section house one day:
"Punch brother, punch with care,
punch in the presence of the passen-
gare.'' He got to grooming this to him.
self in time with the jolting car, and it
fitted so nicely that he at last dropped
off in doZe.
Back in the warm caboose, the rear
brakeman smoked cob pipe, while
the conductor sat hunched up in an old
armchair, looking over new time
card. "Say," said the former, to the
squatty figure with the time card,
saint you going to meet the flyer at
Mayton? We sidetrack for her, don't
we?" The conductor pulled out his
watch, and grinned. "Guess not, Billy,
boy-we're eleven minutes late in there
now-she'll more likely sidetrack for
us, and let us right on through. It'll
save time both ways"
Five minutes later, Jim was awak-
ened by the straining of the car and the
fange Of the wheels, as they ground
and screeched their way up the grade
into "Dead Mans Curve" Jim knew
from the sound just where he was.
AHumphW he grunted to himself, "dat
engineer III have to open her up afore
he hits de top of dis old hilly curve"
He was more than half right, for the
track wound around long curve,
almost in the shape of half-moon, and
where the clay cuts commenced it took
a downward bent with steep incline,
the worst place on the road. Down
at the end of the half-moon lay the
little village of Mayton, with it's brown
weather-beaten depot and it's long
siding. Jim's. car wasn't palace
stock-it was only common empty
box car, sandwiched in and going home.
Jim in climbing in theend door forward,
had jammed it in his hurry, and through
the open space dim streak Of moon
light slanted in on the floor. He could