The sun., 1904-07-17
WITH A NEWSPAPER FLYER.
No Paul Revere Ride. That Early Morning
Dash to Boston.

used to 60 pas; here 80 fast that he'd
bust every bundle II 1t had been done up
in bagswith wire rope wrappers. In them
days the papers few after the train like
birds and they had to call out the hook
and ladder companies to pick EN- out OF
the trees In the morning. This Is slow.
But at Noank it was different, The bundles
here were few and small, and the engineer
had no instructions to slacken speed. The
train was sailing along at sixty-five miles
an hour. The four bundles whirled back.
struck the ground beside the track. One
of them stopped in burst of futtering
papers that seemed not unlikely to re-
quire the good offices Of the Noank hook
and ladder.
"You think that's a good throw -off?"
growled the kicker why. say. George,
he thinks that's good throw-off. 1t amt
one in ten to what it was even year'ago
Remember the time the papers hit the shed
out there at the end of the station and went
right on clean through it and put the shed
on the bum so that they've never thought
it was worth while to rebuild it2 That was
throw-off. that was!"
At New London, as at New Haven every
body piles out into the station for five
minutes swallowing of coffee. The last
car is dropped off at New London. Two
more are dropped at Providence. The
last two go through to Boston and are turned
over to the New England News Company
for the distribution Of their contents
through Yankeedom.
The hard work of the Boston Shore Line
newspaper special is done in that first
through run to New Haven 1t Is work
which takes a mans weight down from
three to five pounds every time he goes
through with IT, After that all that re-
mains to be done is the carrying Of the
bundles to the car door for the railroad
men TO throw them off.
Along about 4:3O o'clock in the morning
one finds himself getting very tired and
cross and wishing very much that Boston
were nearer The sunlight itself as 1t
comes over the water and turns the purple
blues and grays of night into bright yell
lows and green's is not particularly cheer
ing. The perspiration, dried all over one
in prickly cakes since New Haven, begins
to start again. and little rivers of CRIME
form along ones face and neck.
The reporter wanted to know where all
the people we're for whom the papers were
being whirled out Of New York with 80
much clamor and rush.
Sleep said Bill, laconically. 'Poundin'
their pillows for a record"
But who picks up these papers?' in
quired the disappointed adventurer.
"The dealers. when they get up. answered
the guide YEARLY. There's one Of them
coming now"
He pointed out across the salt meadows
to a huddled up figure on the seat Of ram
shackle wagon, poking slowly across the
swamp behind horse with more angles
than Sarah Bernhardt. The train circled
around and passed the wagon close at hand.
The driver hunched over his reins, never
looked up.
The girls on the hotel porches, the eager
farmers who wanted to know what had
happened toJudge Parker's telegram to the
convention, were all invisible. They were
taking their Sunday morning sleep just as
II there were no newspapers
From Providence to Boston things were
not quite so disheartening. Towns are
thicker and bigger. The train deigned
to stop-because the piles were too big to
be pushed of all at onoe. and had to be
handed out like real baggage. In cities like
Attleboro there were eight or ten wagons
with lot OF clamoring newsdealers waiting
each one for his allotment. 1t was getting
near breakfast time.
But the arrival at Boston, with the clean
up in the washroom which makes respect
able white men out Of blackfaced gang
of heather navvies, does not mean a rest
for the newspaper crew. They must go
back on the next passenger train out. 1t
leaves Boston at little after 10 o'clock
and gets to New York at 4. There are no
sleeping cars on it, of course. So, the
messengers take to the stuffy smoking
car and curl up on the seats.
They get back to their families in New
York at about O'Clock, and then begin
their weekly might off," There may be a
lot OF Paul Revere romance about that
Sunday morning trip to Boston, but the
man who wants to write about it from the
Paul Revere point Of view had better not
take the trip,