LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2389, 29 November 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TH3 LAST OF NIKE MEN. BANGERS OR BE BUY TOFtl-EDOES, p‘ Philadelphia Times ’] Bradford, Pa., June 30th—• Bid you know that Tom Baily had passed In his cheeks ? ’ ‘Yea ; heard It by telephone an hour ago.’ The speaker was John McWilliams, and we were sitting on the piazza of his home in Bradford. • Do yen know the particulars, John ? ’ * Particulars? Well, I don’t know as there are any. Some old story, you know. Didn’t pack the nitro-glycerine in the waggon carefully, and when the waggon went over a log the load exploded, and—and—that was all. ’ There was no need of farther explanation, for I could reason it all out clearly enough, and could almost fancy I saw the ghastly ■remains of the ill-starred Tom Baily, who went out one morning to superintend the shooting of a well and never came back. Bally was an employe of the Roberta Torpedo Company, and John McWilliams, the caan with whom I was in conversation, was his division superintendent on the same * run’ or district. * Family, John ?’ • No—that is, he hadn’t a wife, but he had ,a widowed mother aud a young sister. ’ ‘ What will they do ?’ * Oh, the company won’t boo them starve, and, besides, 1 guess poor old Tom didn’t die a beggar. Poor old boy!’ and the bearded man at my side sobbed like a heart broken child, «I never told you about Tom and the rest of the boys, did I-f’ continued tho sorrowing .man. • The feat ?’ Yea, tkeae were nine of us, you know—but you donitinow, for T, have never told a living soul. This sudden death of Tom’s quite unmans me, for I am new tho only one left — the Hit of nine.’

I waited a long while for John to gain control of his feelings, for I know ha had a story to iell of more than uap al interest. It was a beautiful,night, full of soft moonlight and drowsy with tho hum of humanity in the city beneath our feet. A delicate, almost Impsroeptihla mist hung about the city, aud from our hillside piszza we could see far down the valley where theXipanngwsn'j stream faintly glimmered in the moonlight, >vnd where tha huge iron tanka of oil loomed ■up gloomy aud black against the mellow brightness of the night, Over at Prospect Park, on Mount Kaub, gaslights were flashing a»d flaring, while faintly to our eara came the strains of a Strauss waltz. Away off cn another hill the sound of a labouring engine and tho thnd of the walking-beam told that the ponderous drill at a well was being lowered into the earth as fast as men working night and day could sink tho hole. Down below, tha city flashed up at us its countless lights and shadows and faintly floated up the hum of business and pleasure. It wss a strangely bsauflfcl night for a story of o}l,

John spoke at last, slowly and with evident hesitation. * Yes,’ hs laid, ‘there were nine of us, and I’m the last one alive. It’s a queer thing, and it makes me feel strangely, perhaps more so now that poor Tom is—is—’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word; he couldn’t say that his friend was dead. With an effort ho continued. ‘You doubtless know that I was in the army during the late war. I saw fomo pretty tough fighting, too, and after Shiloh I was made a captain, and at the same timo Tom Bailey, who was in the same company, was promoted to a lieutenancy f'r bravery. He deserved It too, for there never was a better or a braver boy ; a trifle reckless, you might say, but brave and generous to a fault. At tho close of the war wo went homo together, and with us went what was left of the company. Thoro wasn’t much, to bo sure, for wo had done some terrible fighting, and many of tho boys had gone down through the valley of the shadow. Like the rest of tho returned soldiers, we went into the oil country, which was Just then turning the heads of the people, and after knocking around a while and losing what money we had, we concluded to go into the business of shooting wells. Tom and I went into tho business for ourselves, and soon hired four of the men who had been wealthy men. That made nine of us, and wa us d to Lvo in one room and do all our cooking, for women were scarce in the oil country at that timo. Everything wont along finely, and we made money hand over fijfc. Old Colonel Heberts hadn’t got the monopoly of the nitro-glyce-rine business then, and any man could engage it who oared to and tho risk,

‘Our crowd was extremely fortunate at first, and we wore beginning to fael th t nitro-glycerine wasn’t such a terrible thing as some persons made out. Well, we worked along about six months without an accident, when one day one of our men was killed while taking glycerine from a waggon. This gave ns considerable of a shock, but wo laid the blame on the man’s carelessness and worked on as usual. Within a year three more of our men were blown to fragments at tho same time through pure recklessness. None of these men drank Hqnor to excess ; so you couldn’t attribute their death to intoxication. Tho rest of us was mighty careful after that, and only staid in the business because we could make money faster than at anything else. We didn’t have any more accidents while we wore doing business for ourselves, and we began to take courage. 4 When the Heberts Company gained monopolistic control of the torpedo business the remaining five of onr crowd went to work for them. Everything went on swimmingly for some time, but at last three of the crowd had some trouble, real cr fancied, with the company, and tho result was that the men quit entirely and went to moon-lighting-shooting wells at night in defiance of the law giving the Roberts Company the monopoly. Moonlighting is just about twice as dangerous as torpedoing in the lawful way, and It wasn’t long before these three fellows were blown skyward. I wasn’t a bit surprised, for when a man gets down so low as to go Into moonlighting when he can make good wages at a legi'imate business, I naturally look ts see his death announced before a great wdiile in the papers.

4 Well, that left just two—Tom Bailey and I—of the original nine that went into the badness only a few years ago. One by one our boys have dropped off, un*il to day I helped to bury what remained of poor Tom. Poor old boy. I know It wasn’t his fault, for ho was tho most careful mm I ever saw. There were nine of ns when we started—all banded together to work for one another’s interests—end tow they are all gone but me, and I am—the—last —of nine.’

fiis un«moked cigar Hipped from his nerveless fingers and fell to tho ground. Ho trembled violently, as with the ague, a nameless horror and fear looking out of his eyes into vacancy. 4 John,’ said I, gently touching his arm, 4 come into the houee : it is chilly out here.’

'Yes, yes ; let us go is. But stay—T—feel bo strangely. I never thought of it before, but if—my wife—should—should fee me as I saw Tom Biiley to-day, it would it would—would kill her !’ and the strong man Bank Into a chair, completely overpowered with the awful thought. Business called mo away from Bradford, and the oil country the next day, and I did not return for soma weeks. Having business at hmethport, the country seat of McKean county, I passed through that village, and started for Bradford, Bjrdell and Einzua Railway. 'When within a few miles of Bradford an accident happened to the locomotive which would delay the train several hours. Being anxious to reach the city as soon as possible, four of the passingers, including myself, started over the mountains afoot, hoping to reash onr destination by three o’clock in the afternoon. We walked along quite briskly, and while following the ridge of a mountain were hailed by a voice which I recognised os belonging to the torpedo superintendent having in charge the district adjoining that of John MoWilliams. ‘ Hallo! come over hero I’ the man shouted, accompanying his words with emphatic gestures. Curiously wondering what Pmollny could want, wo went toward him. Two or three men were leaning against the stump of a tree and merely nodded aa we approached. Smollay was searching on the ground for something at some distance from his com- . p anions. I looked and saw a strange sight. The wreck of an oil derrick and its machinery lay scattered over the ground in small pieces. In an instant it all came to me—there had been an explosion of nitro glycerine. The derrick had bseu blown to atoms and scattered far and wide ; the ponderous bullwheels were dismantled and broken into a thousand fragments. On every hand web rnln each as only citro-giycerina can produce. The thought came, was anybody hurt ? I glanced Inquiringly at the three men. One of them pointed silently at a small baking powder box lyiog at their feet. I stepped forward, ‘ Sty God ! John—John McWilliams !’ and I would have fallen had not one of the men supported me. The last of nine I I stood and looked down into a little wooden box filled with ghastly fl-ish and blood and bones—all that was mortal of noble hearted John McWilliams. A side of tho head and face remained as noble and handsome as in life, but what remained of the body could have been placed in a ten quart pail. Smollay came and leaded his arm ogainit my shoulder In silent sympathy. * How did it happen, fmollay V This after a long period of silence. ‘The well made a heavy How of gas and oil as John was lowering the torpedo, and when the shell came to the top of the hole John stood there and caught it in hie hands, and as he turned to take the thing away it exploded In his hands with the result you see. There never was a more careful man than John.

For years and years John McWilliams had laughed at nitrc-glycerino and had toyod with it as with a shackled monster, but at last the monster, waiting patiently for yearn, had sprung upon him and avenged its wrongs. Sorrowfully we lifted the little bos and os rried it homeward. Along the mountain rddgo we moved, a melancholy procession and when on the summit of Mount ICaub we rested and locked down on the clustered bui'dings of Bradford. In the glory of the afternoon sun even Bradford’s homely wooden buildings were beautiful, the city presenting the very picture of the loveliness of life, while over and beyond the hills, looking down in silent grauf.eur, were voiceless witnesses of God’s immortality. One of the passengers who had come with me from the train produced a powerful field-glaas. Almost mechanically I turned and looked at John McWilliams’ hillside homo. A door was standing wide open and a lace curtain streamed idly from a window. In through the open door I oould see the tea-table set and waiting. On the lawn a handsome, graceful woman romped with two children, frequently shading her eyes with her hands and looking down the street long aid earnestly. It was Mrs McWilliams, and she was waiting and watching for the loving husband and father who would come not age In on this earth, never, nevermore. Slowly the sun crept behind the western bills, and with aching hearts we took up our burden again and prepared to descend into the city, my brain ringing with the words of the ill-fated John on that night many weeks be'ore ! ‘lf E>y wife —should—should see me as I saw Tom .tfailoy tc-day, it would — ■« ould kill her ?’