Year: 1877

from a way station, the name OF


which has escaped me, into Pueblo


by night. There had been heavy


rains. Parts Of the track were sub


merged. The darkness and the rush


of waters created among the passen-


gers considerable anxiety. l spent


most of the night III the cab. The


engineer was too much absorbed in


his duties to talk. He answered my


questions with civility, but with brew


ity. l did not observe it at the time,


but afterwards I recalled distinctly


the sudden start he gave, and the


look of intense interest he turned
upon me, when l: made some obscr.


vation which indicated that my


house was in the vicinity of Pitts


burg. The next day he accepted my
invitation to dine. We were alone
in my room. I had been recalling
the scenes of the past night, when
taking his pipe from his lips, he be-
gan:


TIE ENGINEER's STORY:


Mayhap, stranger, you have run
over the Pennsylvania Central Road.
AS you may say, l was born and
brought up on that line, first as fire
man and then engineer nigh on to
twenty year. It's alters cxcitin' to
run a machine, and when l was 4
fireman used to think it was better
to be top of one of them splendid en-
gines, than to be President of the
United States. The day they first
put me on the foot-board and took
the lever in my hand and knew it
was my engine, reckon l was the
proudest man between Pittsburg and
Altoona. l kinder thought that
everybody was goin' to be out that
day, to see how the train made her
run, and you kin bet all your specie
that she went smack up to the mint,
the whole hundred and seventeen
mile. But this kind of spirit wore
off, after a while, N | settled down
into a sober, stlddy goin' man; N
they did say that wor as safe N re-
liable a man as they had in the bus
iness. l hev to say it, t,sstranger, as
there's no body else to do it; else
wise you wouldn't know it.


1 was tuEed twenty-three wen me
and Mary was married. Twenty
eight years ago! You hev a wife
stranger? Haven't got no wife!-
Well! mayhaps it's just as well! l
he'd Mary some eight years, but it
don't seem like no time, now. I left
her there IN the old keystone State,
her and the boy. Sometimes | think
I'd like to go back again, and see the
place where they both lie, but sup
pose I never shall. Don't seem as if
| had the heart to do it. 1t wasn't
in any church yard, you know; but
a little way up the mountain there
was a green, quiet spot among the
trees, and they arc there-not MORN
a hundred feet say, above the track
and l often wonder if Charley
doesn't still dream, when the New
York Express thunders by, that his
old father is holding the throttle.


l put up snug cabin by the side
of the road where l had Il small
clearin', and between whiles, l used
to plant my potatoes and things,
enough to keep us going, and Mary
had her garden. Mary alters took to
flowers, as l used to tell her, jokin'
like, eos she was one of the family.
Then we had COW, and Mary rails
ed chickens, and / never see no per-
son could do as much with chickens
as Mary could. Jest seemed like
those hens were alters strainin' of
themselves layin' eggs. You never
see nothin' pay stricter attention to
business, than what they did. Never
standn' about and toolin' around, but
alters at it. And then they'd set
and hatch incredible. Mostly two
broods a year, and brought 'em all
up.


Mary raised the COW. One of the
gave it to her wen it was
a calf, and she made much of it. l
used to tie it to stake near the cab
in wen it was a little thing, for it to
eat grass. Mary didn't know much
about things then, she was young
like, and one day she thought she'd
put the calf in the stable. l told
her she'd better not try it-she was
just slight girl. Now a calf, you
know, is the most deceiven' animal
in the world. l. don't look as if 1t
had any strength, and yet it'll upset
a full grown man. So Mary unties
the rope and starts for the shed, and
the calf kicked up his heels and away
he went. Mary held on to the rope
and away she went-thrown down,
rolled overland there was contu-
sion of calf and calico all over the
place. There wasn't no bones brok-
en-, but Mary was the most amazed
girl you ever saw. That calf grew
up to be a KNOWN COW. She used to
run out on the track just on purpose
to frighten people. She'd stay on
till the train was close up, but never
get hit. The men soon all got t o
know her and didn't mind her.
But whenever new engineer came
along and saw her, he'd whistle
brakes, and raise a rumpus, often
bring the train to dead stop. But
she would walk off just at the right
time and seemed to understand the
joke.


Our little cabin was among the
mountains, q good ways from any
other house, and | used to sometimes
think that Mary must be lonely, with
me away so much of the time. You
see, was alters out three nights in
the week. l went up in the day time
and passed my house at noon, and
down again that night,passed at mid
night. But was home two or three
days in the week, and alters Sunday.
The place where we lived was wild
region of country, and the storms
we used to have up there, so high in
the air, was fearful.


didn't tell you anything about
the boy? No! Well, do you know,
l took to him the very first moment
An that's very curious thing about
babies. Now, l never fancied 'em
much, but I tell you, stranger, it is
all the difference in the world wheth-