Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1915-01-14
Fireman
Deane
By Henry Firth.
CHAPTER l. THE RIVALS.

ening, our eyes fixed upon the sunset,
which was glowing through the
browning trees. Across the land
scape sailed a light, white cloud OF
steam, which fingered almost affec-
tionately, as it seemed to us, in the
soft autumnal air.
There's the fast express" re-
marked my companion, whose regard
for his former business on the rail-
road had in no sense abated. Tom
Deane keeps his time right WE'LL"
Yes; / have noticed that train
often" was my reply. But If Deane
can run to book-time, why do not
other men do so?"
Tom always was a steady fellow
replied my companion; land as for
runnin' to time, why, 1T depends on
many things and people-guard,
fireman. state o. the weather, and
that. But Deane was always steady.
Why, his marriage with Phoebe May
burn yonder was quite novel ro-
nance story. He was on the branch
line then as fireman, and the circum-
stances were uluCh VI. NtoJ w
you heard them, sir?''
replied in the negative. My pipe
was soothing, the evening was mild;
the time would suit the narrative.
So / suggested that my host should
tell me the incidents.
There's a deal goes on on the
railway which no one minds, re-
marked the old porter; "and my ex-
perience is that the railway world
is almost different from the rest o
mankind, in a way, you understand.
Tom Deanes experiences could say
the same. You know which is Mr..
Mugsby's house, sir? The Dem
Well, it's near the branch line, you
know. Yes; very we'll. That's where
Tom Deane first saw his sweetheart,
as he was runnin'.
"She was a lady's maid there
then, before Mr.. Mugsby's time, you
understand; and Tom used to see
her. A pretty, gentle creature she
was in those days, mind her well.
Fair, and well-built, with a bright,
smiling face, and white skin; and
her hands small and plump, and
soft-like a lady's.
she did for Tom Deane when
one afternoon she waved her hand
to him from the wall as he went
by. He was a handsome fellow, too,
and in his Sunday clothes looked
tip-top. You'd never have guessed
1t was Tom.
well, there was feet; Rail-
way Feet-fate is it, sir? We gen.
orally calls it feet. Any way, at
the fate for our orphanage, all
came as could. The directors issued
cheap tickets and passes; every one
who could get off went with his mis-
sus, his children, or his sweetheart,
or by himself; and there was plenty
of fun and amusements of the usual
sort.
II went, and Tom Joined me, but
] found him absent-like, and looking
around the merry-go-rounds and
such places.
You're expecting some one,
Tom says l who is it?'
Its a young lady, he replied
quietly looking shy.
"'Who is she, Tom?' / asked smil-
in.
~ don't know says he, so
can't tell ye.
do you mean that you don't
know the young woman, Tom?'
"'Never spoke a word to her In
my life. That's straight he said
Il don't know her name either; but
I'm Just head over ears with her
/ sent the tickets to the house on the
chance of her coming
1--WE were standing in front of one
OF the shows just then-a waXworh
exhibition 1t was, and his eyes KEEP
roaming about in all directions, bu'
he was disappointed, | could see. Al
of sudden his face changed as Il
you'd lighted a gas lamp behind hi!
two eyes. He frightened up tre
mendous. and catching hold of me
I was younger then-he says, in {
low voice.
"'There she is with her friend
Come along now
He hurried me off, and walking
across, we cut into the girls tracks
They were well behaved young wo
men both; one. in particular, though
struck my fancies. Retiring, bash
full looking, but self-possessed Oh
yes; she'd have stood no nonsense
wouldn't Phoebe Mayburn.
There she is says Tom.
"'Why it's Phoebe Mayburn, Mrs
Colonel Sorren's own maid from
The Den!'
The same, no doubt, says he
who's the other one? She's dresse,
out grand!
"A lively mink, | doubt says
She was handsome; darker and bold
er-lookin' than Phoebe, but respect
able as you please. ] guessed VIII
she was. She was Ellen Askbern
a farmers daughter who had take
q situation at The Den. She was
fine wench, and her dark eyes seem
ed to look through Tom Deane.
He raised his cap (quite the ger
"a hnl h