Year: 1871

Elihu Burritt illustrates this
maxim with with the following
story:


a poor, coarsc-featured old wo-
man lived on the line Of the Ba!ti-
more and Ohio Railway, where it
passes through a wild, unpeopled
district OF W Westcrn Virginia. She
was widow, with only one daugh-
ter, living with her in log hut,
near a deep prccipitous gorge,
crossed by the railway bridge.
Here she contrived to support them
selves by raising and selling poul-
try and eggs, adding berries in
their season, and other little arti-
cles for the market. She had made
a long weary walk of many miles
to a town where she could sell her
basket OF produce. The railway
passed by her cabin to this town
but the ride would cost too much
of the profits of her small sales, SO
she trudged on generally to the
market on foyt. The conductor
came finally to notice her walking
by the side of the line or between
the rails; and. beinga good>naturcd
benevolent man, lie would often
give Ler ride to ARD fro without
charge. The enginemen and
brakesmen were also good to the
old woman, and felt they were not
wronging the interests OF, the rail
way company by giving her those
free rides. And soon an accident
occurred that proved that they
We're quite right in this matter.


In the wild month of March, the
rain descended and the mountains
sent down their rolling, roaring tor
rents of melted snow aud ice into
this gorge, near the old woman's
hut. The food arose with the
darkness of the night, until she
heard the crash OF the railway
bridge, as it was swept from its
abutments, aud dashed its broken
timbers against the craggy sides Of
the prccipice on either side 1t
was nearly midnight. The rain
fell in IL flood, and the darkness
was deep and bowling with the
storm. In another half hour the
express train would be due. What
could she do to warn it against the
awful destruction it was approach
ing? She had hardly a whole tai
low candle in her house and no
light she could make Of tailow or
oil, if she had it, would live mo-
meut in that tempest Of wind and
rain Not a moment was to be
lost; and her thought was equal to
the moment. She cut the cord Of
her only bedstead, and shouldered
the dry posts, sidepieces, and head.
pieces. Her daughter followed her
with their two wooden chairs. Up
the steep embankment they climbed
and piled all their household fur
niture upon the line Il few rods be-
fore the black, awful chasm, gurg-
ling with the roaring focd. The
rumbling OF the train came upon
them just rs they had fired the
well-dried combustibIes. The pile
blazed up into the night, throwing
its red, swelling, booming light a
long way up the track. In fifteen
minutes it would begin to wane,
and she could not revive it with
green, wet wood. The thunder OF
the train grew louder. 1t was
within five miles of the fire


Would they see 1t in time? They
might not put on the brakes socl
enough. Awful thought! She tore


her red flannel gown from her in


moment, and, tying it to the end O
a stick, ran up the track, waving il
in both hands, while her daughter
syung around her head a blazing
chair.p6s Il little before. The live;
of a hundred unconscious passen


gers hung on the issue OF the hex


minute. The ground, trembled a


the old woman's feet. The great


red eye of the engine burst upol


her as it came around a curve


Like as huge, sharp-sightea llot
coming suddenly upon a fire,


sent forth thrilling roar that tllle'