Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1901-02-19


thunder by Restless and uneasy,
somehow, ! went to the door and
opened it, The moon was at its full,
bathing every object in its pure white
light.
Z" / glanced down the track! A dark
object threw its black shadow direct
ly across the spot it was my daily duty
to guard
"'The team | gaspcd, reaching
for my cap. My Godr and the next
moment, as well as my hating step
would permit, | was making for the
crossing That shrill whistle in the
'distance-could it already be the ex-
press:
"In less time than it takes to tell
it, sir. ! had clambered into the wag-
on, upon the floor of which with
white, upturned face, lay young
man, dead-if you'll permit me to
say it, ,ir-dead drunk
"The train was between Lnwood
and RusseIl's. Even now its fiery eye
cleaned banefully over the track.
The horses trembled, reared, and
wouldn't obey the rein. Pray? Aye,
sir, that instant Of peril taught me
the difference between form and
earnest prayer. Good Lord, deliver
us meant something more than an
idle petition spoken with a smile on
the lip. / needed helpGuperhuman
help A second later the express,
shrieking like a demon, flashed by
and on the crossing lay no writhinc
horses, no torn and bleeding men,
no wrecked and useless wagon.
"The young man, aroused by the
noise, had by now struggled to his
feet.
What is it? he asked, doggedly,
yet half comprehending.
81 was trembling as violently as
the horses, and for moment was un-
able to answer him. His face, when
| had explained, turned CHASTITY
white in the moonlight. Thoroughly
sobered, he sat silent for awhile, his
lips moving. convulsively as though
in prayer
You're all right now,' said l,
after awhile, giving him the reins,
but be careful, my boy, of the next
crossing For answer he wrung my
hand, saying never word. under
stood, Of course, all that was in his
heart, and so stood, all unmindful of
the cold, till long after the wagon had
crossed the bridge and the sound of
the wheels had very nearly died in the
distance.
1T was month or more after that,
when one day young man stepped
up to the sentry-box and cordially
grasped my hand.
" You don't remember me- he
said, little bashfully, the young
man whose life you saved almost on
this very spot?'
why, bless mep / returned,
heartily, and then we of course fell to
talking the thing over
Mr.. Owens, said he, earnestly,
when about to leave, i feel as though
| can never repay you for your noble
deed that night, but passing me a
shining silver quarter Of dollar
which by courtesy, sir, | felt should
MT refuse-'it would afford me great
pleasure if you would some time
drink to our further acquaintance
81 can never do that, sir | an
swered, shaking my head 4 never
indulge in spirits. | wouldn't be fit
for duty, young man, if did
"'That's So said he, the muscles
about his chin quivering, ifyou had
been in bed and as tipsy as was that
night, why but No. 90 was due, !
could only say good-by and leave him.
"About a year after that he re-
sumed, after Slight pause, "an old
gentleman, standing here idly one
day, engaged me in conversation.
Something in his face and speech
seemed familiar. tantalizingly famil-
lar Presently asked his name
Morrow. John Morrow, of - |
knew then who stood before me. He
was the father Of the young man /
have been telling about. Naturally
enough ! spoke Of his sons peril that
night. The old gentleman looked