Year: 1875

was puzzled to find it."


"gless you for that goodness to some
mother, Frank; if anything happens
to you. 1 shall be glad you did it,
said Mrs. Dee.


"There amt anything going to hap
pen to father. He is too good for
that" spoke up Frank; ''he is
going to live until 1 grow up and
know enough to drive an engine, amt
you, fatherS"


Il hope so, boy, but you mustn't
talk like that. 1 don't like to hear
you. Molly, I'm hungry man to
night"


"And your supper is just ready"


While they were at the table, a boy
touched the bell knob at the door, and
Mary, going to answer the call. found
telegraphic message there.


"Papa, it's for you. Maybe the
man whose boy you saved, has sent
you present." she said, as she gave
it to him. 81 would, if 1 were him."


The engine driver held the bit of
paper in his weather-beaten fingers a
full minute, it seemed to his wife, ere
he had the courage to say, "Molly,
Ben Lanes baby is going to die before
morning and he wants me to take his
place on the "America" for the trip
up tonight. He says he shan't rest
content to risk his train with another
man on the road. What shall do
about it 2" saa


The little wife laughed. "You
know, Frank, you wouldn't stay at
home if said mo- q thousand times.
or course you'll CO." and then shad-
ow stole over her face. ..Railroad
mems wives have such nerve-aching,
and it is such sweet relief to haye
ones cares within four walls now and
then, that it is no wonder that this
wife could not smile long that night.
So they wrapped him up, muffiing
every inch of skin that could be spared
from the cutting cold. Mary slyly
took slices Of chicken and sandwiched
them into bread and tucked the bun
die it made into big side pocket.
Frank begged so to be taken along,
that it was hard to refuse the lad.
''The cold will make you sleepy,
papa," he said. "and you'll want me
to prick you awake, now and then."


"Shall 1 take him, Mclly?" the
brown faced father asked quickly
"No, Frank, stay at home and take care
of your mother. I'll give some poor
soul ride with me tonight. There's
always dozen begging to be taken,
and feel good-natured. I expect it's
that baby that I saved to-day. I
should just like to see that woman's
face when she put him to bed tonight.
Good night, and bless you. Molly,
Good bye, Mary. Frank, you may go
down and see me off, If it will do you
any good" and so he went.


Frank was at home again before
eight o'clock, having waited to see the
engine start on its long, lonely journey
through the gloom of the mountains
and the shadows of the night.


"Papa sent you the newspaper. He
thought maybe you'd be lsneseme
without him." he said, "and mamma,
he told me to tell you that he took up
a man for the whole trip: he thought
you'd feel safer if you know, and he
won't be home again for two days, he
don't think but he said l might run
down tomorrow when the train came
in and give HIM the news"


81 will go down myself, Frank"
said Mrs. Dee, opening the newspaper
her theughtful husband had sent to
her.


The passenger train was, meanwhile,
speeding along its iron way. with its
scores of men and women. every one
of them busy with this earth life of
ours. There were men on that train
going to homes that in the eyes of the
world were more than the home of an
engine-driver, but not one of them
was bound to place more full of
true and tender love than his own lit
tie home up town.


Under the shadows of the meun-
tains; over the dark lined bridges, in
to the plains of moonlight; past the
low, brown station houses along the
road through the beautiful villages,
hurried the express train, and all was
| we'll. Within the comfortable cars
the passengers rested, asleep, or
dreamed at wide-awake fancies, as all
outdoors swept by.


The man that Frank Dee had taken
! upon the engine, began now and then
to talk to the engine driver, and, in
reply, received words that were sharp
and crisp as words could be, for he
wanted all of himself to guide that
train to its destination.


The moonlight saw, despite the crisp
words, smile come and go, again and
again, on the brown face of the driver.
He could not help it; he was think
ing of that little boy in petticoats that
he had caught from the crush of death
and tossed into the snow that day. II
made him feel, somehow, akin to the
angels, who GO about oD divine er
rands of bearing up and snatching
back from falling and from sin. He
smiled again at the thought of angel
hood for one like himself. ME ar
angel! Me! Within this brown, rougl
weather clothes? No! No! am only
an engineer on railroad, trying to dc
my duty from variety of motives
but chiefly, l do believe-yes, 1 do
from loye of my Master. The littl.
boy saved to-day may have a werl
to do in the world that could neve
do" and he smiled once more an(