Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1904-02-12

IMl said the hungry reporter, as he
~ tilted his chair back and Gle
waited his heels on the desk that the
city editor called his when he was
there. "There are some things in this
world I'm not adapted for. That's
one"
The rest Of the late watch" gath
cred around, with EXPLANATIONS of
amazement and surprise, and he con-
tinued:
You see, l one applied to a division
superintendent for "A job, and was as
sured my application would be consid-
cred the very first vacancy that oc-
Cured. Then 1 waited. The suspense
was not especially trying to me, but 1
could see l was wearing on the friends
with whom l was boarding consider
ably.
One day, however, the "caller," the
man that rounds up the train men
when they are wanted to go out on a
special, came around with a note re-
questing me to call at the superintend-
ent's office. OF course, l complied with
the request, and was told that they
wanted me to act as assistant agent for
a day or two at a place called Don
eril's, or something like that.
l wanted to know if 1 would have
time to &c and pack my grip, but they
seemed to think such a delay would
materially prejudice the prospects of
the road, so 1 grabbed the pass and
made for the train, which / managed
to catch, after a brief but exciting
chase. Then my "grief," as the rail-
road men called it, began.
'This train don't stop at DoneriTs,
young %fellcr," said the conductor, as
he pocketed my pass and proceeded
calmly on his rounds. l would have
liked to have asked him what I was
expected to do about it, but his counte-
nance was so stern and forbidding
did not dare.
We were rapidly nearing my desti-
nation, and something had to be done,
so l Informed a brakeman of my pre-
dicament, and he very kindly volun-
teered to ask FATTY Duff" to slow
down a little at Doneril's and let me
off. I presume he did so, but If there
was any reduction in the speed of the
train it was too slight for my unprac-
ticed eye to detect. The brakeman en-
cOuraged me, however, and, as there
appeared to be no other alternative,
when we were nearly abreast Of the
platform I let go and dropped.
1 did not light right away, but when
1 did land the concussion was some
thing awful, and as l rolled over and
over 1t seemed to me l must have gath
cred up about all the splinters there
were in that platform in different por-
tons Of my anatomy. l was still
gyrating when the last car whizzed by,
but l heard the hind mans" timely
warning:
look out, young man, you'll tear
your clothes!"
1t was a rickety old station, the walls
frescoed with mashed tomatoes. Emp
ty chicken coops, fruit boxes, berry
chests and watermelon rinds. scattered
about the platform, exhaled a faded
and depressing odor, and the only Wis
ible indication of life or death was the
swarms of flies buZzing drowsily in the
hot sunshine. l picked my way to the
office and presented my credentials to
the agent. a tall, lank man, with a long
neck, careworn features, and a stiff
hat that looked out of place in the
midst of such rural surroundings. He
was absorbed in Il newspaper, and II
was sometime before he noticed me. At
length, however, he threw down the
paper, read my letter, and invited me
to make myself at home. Then he UNI
bosomed himself:
"l'm sick and tired OF this business
he said. The works enough to kill n
mule, but it's the injustice and lack of
appreciation that makes me hot. You
can't pick up Il paper without seeing n
lot of rot about the heroism of loco
motive engineers, and the terrible re-
sp~onsibility that makes train Dispatch
ers hump-shouldered before their time;
but never a single, solitary word about
station agents. Why. to read the pa
pers, n person would think an engineer
went through life with his eye glued to
the rail and a death-grip on the re-
versing lever, and that the train dis