LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2662, 18 October 1882, Page 3

LITERATURE.

IiIOK: A BAIIi'WAT CONDUCTOR’S srosr.

Saturday evening, the 11th of January, 1573, I entered the rains of the old depot at the foot of Like street, in Chicago, to takw the Michigan Central right express, for Ann Arbor; my half finished cigar led me to enter the smoking-car, what* I took the second seat from the rear, and presently began study! g the very unusual company of passengers in front of me. The oar was nearly filed with run who were returning from California j a wi'.d, rough set of fellows, who {had gone out with high hopes and large prospects, but were now coming back disappointed and reckless. The patty had been travelling for more than three weeks, having been snowed in again and again cm the far wes'ern roads. Weary and desperate as they were, they sang roaring songs, and shouted and quarrelled ; but mere than all, they drank. As we swept round the head of the lake, we halted for the first time since starting at Michigan City Here a new passenger entered the car and took the seat immediately behind mine. A h«ty glance eh wed him to be a man of £,hont thirty five, stent, with dark complexion, brawn ever and hair, he.vy moustache, and an air of vigor and business that made me look at him twice. He wore a somewhat faded, shaggy overcoat, a fur turban cap, and heavy top boots, into which his troneera were tucked, H« had no baggage, bat held a lantern In hia left hand, swinging it carelessly between hi* knees and often looking thoughtfully at it for soma minutes at a time. Again and again I found myself half tnrcel in my seat gazing at him. Meanwhile the din and rowdyism in the car grew mote and more boisterous. Presently one of the loudest and worst looking of the company, having filled a largo bottle from the tank in the corner, began to pass it to each one In tnra as he staggered down the able. As he same even with me, he reached over and palled me by the shoulder, forcing me to face him, and told me to drink. He was a well built fellow, six feet and over, brawny, and with two navy revolvers in his belt, and a large dirk knife at hia breast, and he was thoroughly drunk, I apologised, told him. I never drank, and begged off as best I canid, bat it was all of no avail. I tried to get out of the seat, and so out of tne car, but he stood across the passage, and raising the bottle high above his bead with one hand, he held me by the shoulder with the other, and with a terrible oath commanded met» drink or he would break the bottle over my head. Under these circumstances, It occurred to ms that discretion was the better part of valor, so, taking the bottle from hi* hand, I choked down a swallow of its vile contents.

Fashing ms back lata the feat, the raffiui proceeded to the stranger behind me and offered him the liquor. The mm was bending over, holding his lantern with both hands, and slowly swinging it backward and forward. He raised his keen *ferowa eyes to those of the rough, dropped h)K chin slightly, and then, without emotion', said deliberately—' Go to h—— !’ The aaeallont was dazed for an instant, but recovered himself, and renewed his de* mind. Then the stranger set bis lantern upon the floor, stood up to his fall height, and said quietly ; ‘ Stranger, I don’t want no fuss with yon, an* I don’t calc’.’ate to have any, but the beat way for you to gat clear of a knoakdown ’ll be to get away from here about as qmiok as you c :n. Do you hear ?’ He looked him full in the eye, and stood there so quiet, yet so determined, that the drank-n msn, after eyeing him for a minute, dropped his head, turned, and went, mumbling, to the front of the car and sat down. The stranger etnod till the man w»s seated, and then, resting himself, to-’k np his lantern a d quietly swung it as before. I was overwhelmed with shame, and turned and apologised to him. The keen brown ryes looked frankly into mine as I spoke, and seemed to read me through and through; when 1 had finished, the man placed his hand almost tenderly upon my arm which rested upon the back of the seat, and said—--3 Stranger, don’t yon fret; you did take a s waller o’ whiskey, and It would’a’ hurt yon to ’a’ got a lick over the head with that bottle, the way that feller was handlin’ it; yon did the best thing for you. Ifow, for me, the thing that I won’t do, even if I have to be strung up the next minute if I don’t, ia to drink whisky?’ And after a pause—'lt warn’t always so, though ; for, God knows, I’vo drank enough o’ the staff in my time. Cord, stranger, I’ve seen many a night snoh as these fellers is havin’. I’ve seen the time when I wouldn’t ’a* asked nothin' better’n to ’a’ dons just as that feller did that come back here with that bottle a minute ago ; but I quit about : ten years ago, and sinoe then I haint put a drop between my lips ; I’d rather, a thousand times, ho took home with a hole in mo big enough to drive a yoka o’ cattle through ! Ton sea, stranger it alnt everybody that’s got r.uoh a wife as mo ; mad when a man gets such a woman as mine—why, Lord bless you, stranger. If yon enly knew what a woman Lick is, end something o’ what’s she’s lived through, and how she's tjore it, you wouldn’t wonder. You see the difference between yon and me now, don't yt u ? But don't you fret, stranger I yon did all right.’ He had taken hia band from my arm after the first few words, ar.d sat there, swinging bis lantern as ho talked. At the mention

ot Hick his eyes grew fctr&Dgely bright. My in'CT3* t in him grew as he spoke, and whem hf stopped, as ho did somewhat abruptly, I found myself exceedingly anxious to know gctcnething more of him, and especially of l’i A k Lropping the pubject immediately aider consideration, however, I offered tho ordinary cerements upon tho weather and «jbe night. It was bitter cold, the thermometer ranging several points below aero, tn reply to my remarks my companion went ok as follows ‘Yea it*s a bad night for * run, and it wouldn't surprise me any minnt# ■ to see us go into the ditch. Yon see I know

Ikis road pretty well- I’ve been braking hero on a through freight for something more’ll a year now, and when a feller makes four trips a week over a road, in all k’ndj o weather, and at all hours of tha d>y and night, he gets to know the thing prar.ty wdl, after a while. We’re on a pretty soa’y piece o’ track now, just coming bridge over Kenney’s Ran. The bridge went out last fall, when they put it back they put in a lot of old rad ’ that had been bent and rtr»lgh‘ened and they’re just like a str ng <>’ oUy pipe-sterna to night. If Jack don't take her slow ov-r that hole he'll heave us ad in It, as sura as there! I thou t ht he’d pull her up. He’s a mighty fine fellow, Jack is, and he knows What he’s about. See him hold her level, sow, ’round this enrve jnat ahead. ’ A a the train sped on, the noisy crowd, one by one, dropped off to a limp and maudlin sleep. My companion so-med pleased to talk and X was iqually plsased to listen. Presently a litt'e inoident recurred that turned the conversation into the dir etton 1 had wished. Looking out of tho win low «ver the snow that glistened tho clsar, full moon, ho p.lintel out to mo a low log house, h»lf bnrle t in the scow, standing a few rods irom the track. It was in sight but an instant as we shot by. * There,’ said he, l is the old house where I was born, thhty-sevea years ago come May. My father moved out here from Wow Tork, more'n forty years ago, when all there was in this regi >n was bears, Indians, timber and ague. I’ve heard the old man tell shooting bears right out o’ the door o’ that old house back yonder. He some out all the way in a waggon, and squatted he*e in the woods. li< rd, he had no Idea then that there’! ever be a railroad within five hundred miles r.f him. He was a regular old pioneer—the old m-n was always wanted to be on the go, Sis n me —was George Whipple, and I was his oldest boy, and named afte- him, so I’ve always had to writs ’’Jr.” after my name. It’s a pity folks can’t find names enough for their children, without givln* ’em some that’s been all used up in tho family afore. Bat then it took a good many names to go ’round our family. Thera was thirteen of us altogether, big and little, old and young Well, my mother died wh-n I was about fourteen and after (he died my fa h r married again in a few mouths. I don’t blame him, the way ho was fixed ; yon seo he was poor, vnd had a lot o’ children to be took care of. and he had to have aomebo 'y ; bo he got married. Well, me and tho old woman he got couldn’t agree, so 1 run away and went to Detroit, and began life for myself, a settin’ np nine pins in an alley, in a whisky saloon. That’s a bad placo to begin, stranger ; but that’s the way I begun for myself, and that’s where 1 begun to drink. I stayed there for a couple o’ years, till I got tired o’ that place, and then I went into a livery stable. I worked there for about three years, till I wss pretty near •f age, and then I went i~outh - down to Knoxville, Tennessee, and went Into the livery business there for myself. And there’s where I first saw Dick. Her father was a planter ; had a nice place, with lota o’ niggers, about twenty miles up the country from Knoxville ; used to live in big style, regular old Southern swell, in fact 1 wish you could ’a’ seen Dick, stranger, just aa she was the first time ever I saw her. Hbe’d coma down to tho villa on a visit to Borne folks I knowed. You see, it was one evening’, along about the last o’ September, and a nigger oome down to tha stable and ordered up a carriage for tha old man Well, the horses wss pretty nigh all out, for It waa just as nlos an evenin’ for a ricio as ever grew, and everybody was makin’ the aaoat of it. and so I bad to rig np a team of Httle black fillies that we hadn’t had in the ■table very long, and d'-resn’t trust to Tom, Dlok, and Barry to drive ; so I made np my aaind I'd go and drive ’em myself. Well, I riggel up, and sit out. Op to the house the folks waa all ready awaitin’ out on tho parch; 1 never noticed much about ’em when 1 first drove up. You see, when a feller la a drivin’ for folks o’ that stripe, about all he wants to do la to .’tend to his team, and mind his own badness generally. Hat Lord, stranger, just as I was standin’ there, waitin’ for an old woman to get in, I beard ■ome one laugh, cornin’ down the walk. Heavens, stranger, If yon only could V heard that laugh. £ turned round, and there she was. Bless your life, stranger, it alnt no use for me to try to tell you anything about her. I might talk from now till we get to Jaokson, and then yon wouldn’t bs no better off’n you are now. You see, Dick’s one o’ them kind o’ women that you’ve got to ees to know about. She was about fourteen then, not much bigger round *n my thumb, not very tall, but slim and graceful as a greyhound. And her eyes, and her lips, and teeth, and hair I Oh, it alnt no use, stranger, I can’t tell you nothin’ about her now, no more’n I could then. There alnt but one such face In this world. * Well, she come laughin’ down the walk, and lit Into the carriage aa though she didn’t weigh an oncce, and I shut the door, ■limbed np and drove off. Lord, stranger, I never took another such a ride ss tbat in my life, afore or since. Why, It just seemed to me I was a sitting on a cloud ard drivin' an angel right through the sky without ever tonohin’ ground. Well, wo drove np tho river, and then away buck o’ town, up In the hills, and then down the river, and then baok to the house. Diok got out first and ran ’round the horses and began pettin’ Kit. (That waa the off one—tho same one that I’d been pettin’ all the way.) She patted her neck and stroked her head, and, finally, tha just put her cheek right down on the filly's face. Kit stood there as quiet aa a lamb. And Dick stood there a minute, and then aha looked np to mo and spoke to me—the first words she ever said to me In her Ufa. She just looked right at me—l'll be Mowed, stranger, if it don’t go over mo now, just to think o’ how she looked at me that evenin'—ipd then she says : * Yon must be good to her, mister driver, for she's little and nice, and not very strong. Fix her up good to-night, won’t you ? —for ■he’s been an awful long way for ns, and looks tired, poor little thing !’ Well, stranger, mabb© that filly didn’t get well ’tended to that night—mebbe she didn’t. Bat, as near es I can recollect, I didn’t leave te stable till about three o’clock is the mornln’, and I’ll bet you 1 went into that stall moie’n fifty times to see if there wa’n’t something 1 could do for that little **

•Well, all this time I’d been drink in 1 ' pretty steady. I took a drink that night afore 1 went to drive them folks, I always drank then, right along; didn’t think I could do without it. But the next mornin’, when I got ap, I went right down to the ■table, and never took a drop—somehow I •ouldn’t- The first thing I done, I went into Kit’s stall and petted her a little, when the boys wa’n’t looking, just as Dick had done. Hanged If I didn't put my face right down against hers, just as Dick done, and felt myself blush clear up to my ears when I done It, too, I kept that filly for more’n five years after that, and I wouldn’t V ■old her then, only I had to. Well, I didn’t drink nothin, for more’n a week, and I kind o’ kept alone by myself a good deal. Two or three times I went np by the house where Dick bod been, and I couldn’t get a sight of her, She told ma afterward that she went home the next day, np into the country. Then the boys, they got to mabin’ fan of me. When they first begin blowin’ I got mad about it. but I saw that only made things worse, so I finally give In, and went to irinkln’ again’ Well, by Inquirin’ ’round I found ont where she lived, and who she was, and all abont her. So, along the next spring, I went up that way, sort o’ carnal like, to buy some horses, I rigged up iu the best I’d got, and I could sling it on pretty thick them days too, if I tried, for it was afore the war, and times was flush, I did a good business, and owned all my ■took. I got up there, and met the old man ■■d talked busioess with him for a blind, and laid low and kept an eye out for Dick. I saw her at supper, and then I s’ayed all night and spent the evenin’ with the family. The old man had Dick play and aing for me. Lord, stranger, but she can aing ! Oh, no, she can’t go so high as some of ’em, but somehow, she’s got a way of getting off a song that just double discounts any thiue e’so I ever hoard.

* Oh, well. It’s no use makin’ a long story oat of it 1 But anyhow, I used to go np there, off and on, for about two yea’s and I fot well acquainted with her ; and the better got to know her, why, the oftener I went to sea her. And then, finally, I g >t to takin’ that little team o’ blacks up there and goto* ridln' with her; and we used to ride and talk and have just the nicest times that two folks ever did have, I reckon. Well, one night we’d been a ridln’ till pretty lets, •and vo got book and found all the folks ha

gone to bed. We drave np, and the nigger took the little ga’s to tho barn, and Dlok and I went and brought some chairs out on to tho porch and set down. Yon see it w'.s alo in the fall, and cool nights, and It waa full moon, and the porch fronted tho south, and It was just too nice to go off and leave, t o Dick and I eat down there, and didn’t ray much for a g'od while —jaat looked at tho sky and the hills and woo .8. It was about such a night for moonlight aa It is out there now, only there wa’n’6 no snow. Well, while w ’d been ridln’ I’d been tollin’ Dick about my life, and what a rough time I’d had, and ail that j and she'd said just the best things to me absut it, and told me how sorry she was for me, and so on ; and slttin’ there on the porch, wo got to talkin’ the matter over again ; and finally, tha first I knowed I’d said it—jast asked her to marry mo, fair and square ! Well, you just ought to a’seen her, stranger, i-he was slttin’ in a hind o’ low chair, and the moon w.is ashinin’ right square Into her face, so that I could see jast aa plain as day. Hhe sat light still and trembled, and just looked right at her feet, and that made her eyelashes come clear down on to her cheeks Well, she never said a word for more’n five minutes. Lord, it seemed like a young eternity to me ! And then she looked np, and her eyes was brimful o’ tears. She looked right at me for a minute, and then she says—and her voice kind o’ shook a little whoa she talked —“Why, George! What made you say that ?' (Y-u see she'd got to know ms su well that she just called me Gnorgo without thtnkin’.) *‘i’m nothin’ but a little girl, and you are a man grown. I never thought you come to see me because yon wanted to marry me, bnt only because you liked me, just as I liked yon.” Now wa’n’fc that a great speech to make to a feller ?