t... .. :51, . FAIR INEZ. . 3 0, saw ye not fair Inez ? she got. upon a bike. And folks that saw her start rleclan l‘hey ne‘er beheld the like; the wore a pair of bloomers, A dickey and a vest: L‘hc neighbors held the wheel for her- Fair Inez did the rest. And with the lovely Inez A gallant cavalier ;; Rode down the pike to teach her To pedal and to steer; lie whisper.d airy nothings, He boldlv scouted fear. Until he struck a jagged rock And landed on his ear. I saw the lovely Inez Descend along the shore. And there was dust all OVel' Ihe bloomers that she \vurel ”p in her face she landed. She’s beautiful no more—- . ' ll wager such a mixed up muss. a. \Vas never seen before. ‘I alas, alas for Inez! She went away with song: With ri bans on her handlebar, And shoutings of the throng! She came back all disordered, Nor brought her wheel ulon :— The doctors say ’twill be a month Before she’s well and strong. — Cleveland Leader. 1 'r J. Jnrsi LITTLE Gilli. No sir, I’m proud an’ thankful to say ”that although I’ve been a Signalman a now for close on a quarter of a century. 5 I’ve never yet had an accident at my 1 box. I’ve come very near it on severai occasions, as you may guess; but ': somehow Providence has always seemed to step in just at the right mo- . meat an’ prevent it. ‘ One case I can call to mind every bit as plain new as when it happened, fif- . teen years ago. ' l At the time I speak of I hadn’t been appointed Signalman at the old junc- tion down yonder more than a fev months. I It was a pretty busy box, an‘ there wasn’t much time hangin’ on you] hands, so to speak, but What bit there was I generally employed in polishin' .up the big levers 0’ steel an’ brass, an‘ .thinkin’ o’ the wife an’ child at home. lVe’d been married about six years had Jenny an’ me, an’ a happier couple I don’t think you’d have found any- where. The house was always com- fortable an’ nice, an’ as clean as con-’ tinual dustin’ an’ scrubbin‘ could make it. We’d never had but the one child, little Nelly. She was just five, an' ii would have done your heart good tc see her, wi’ her Winsome ways and he: prattlin‘ baby talk. As for Jenny an’ me, we just idolizea her, an’ nothin’ less. Nothin’ was toc good for her. Many a time have I gene wi’out tobacco for a week in or. der that she might have a new pair 0 slippers or new pinafore a bit sooner. Well, on this particular mornin things went on much the same as us' ual, an’ I was kept pretty hard at it till Moderato . day I saw a man please don’t look, I . pre - tend Up- on well .- re-mem-bered day, I’ve looked in vain and that I Copyright, 1897, by the Mostcan'ans‘Co. about 12 o’clock, pulling back the lev- ers an’ enterin' up in my' book tht times 0’ the trains as they passed. After that time I had a bit 0’ slacll till the 1 o’clock down express waiI signalled an’ then Nelly would bring my dinner down an’ stay playing about in the box till 11d eaten it. She came regularly, an’ I used to‘loole Out for her toddlin’ down the footpath at the side 0’ the line—I’d cautioned her never to go off it, an’ as she was a sharp, little thing, she‘soon under- stood why—wi’ my dinner basket hung over her arm, as proud an’ pleased at possible to think that she was takin her dad his dinner. The express was late that day, an I remember wonderin’ what could have delayed it, as it was usually signalled punctual to the minute. At last, how ever, I got the ring on the bell tha‘ told me it was approachin’ an' not long after I heart its rumblin‘ some two 01 three miles away. After I’d pulled my levers over, an’ set the signals off for it to run into the station, I went to the side 0’ the cabin, an’ looked out 0' the window. The first thing that caught my atten- tion was a man, about a hundred yards w ll Eli-LY 4 n dew off, runnln’ wi’ all his might toward me, waivin’ his hands an‘ pointin' in a I very excited manner somewhere. - 1 “What’s up new?” thought I, but l| couldn’t make head or tale of his ges-’ ticulatin’, so I waited wi' some impa- tience for him to get nearer, an‘ then I saw that it was one o’ the platelayers belongin’ to the. gang that was workin‘ near by. ’ “Swith the express on to the loop, Jim, quick,” he gasped. “The bridge has fallen in.” I Before I go any further, let me eX-‘ plain the position 0’ things a ,bit. My box was a junction. as I’ve told you. To the south was the main line from London, which there split in two, one comin’ through the station here, an' the other missin’ it and goin‘ round the ‘loop,’ as we call it. On the station line, about three hundred yards past the junction, round a bit of a curve, was a large trestle bridge over the river. It was gettin’ considerably old, an' they had been talkin’ about re- newin’ it for some time past, but some- how the months had drifted past, an' no start had been made on the work yet. Instantly I guessed what had hap- pened. The rains durin’ the last week or two had been very heavy, an’ the river was in consequence flooded, an’ runnin’ very strong, an’ the unusual weight an’ the rush 0’ water had 1605- ened the old an’ rotten supports 0’ the bridge, which never ought to have been allowed to get in such a condition, till it had suddenly come topplin’ over into the seethin’ an’ boilin’ flood below. For a moment I was staggered by the suddenness o’ the news, but then I braced myself together an’ saw wha' A Man. to find and think and am. vet, — y smile a lone - 1y hill— A man who turnedandran. A man who’d run a—way. Now v [the navvy had shouted was the only 2thing to do. It was impossible to 'pull the express Eup. The driver .had seen the signals off, an’ knowin’ that he was behind time, was beltin’ along as fast as his engine could go. It was afore these . days 0’ trains fitted from end to end wi continuous brakes, that’ll bring a train lto a stand in fifty yards, an’ I Could see lthat unless I switched it on to the loop it’d go dashin’ along an’ into the rive] Lon top 0’ the ill-fated bridge. I felt a kind 0’ dizziness come OVCI 5 'me as I thought 0’ all them passenger: a-sittin’ in the carriages comfortably readin’ or lookin’ out at the green an yellow fields as they passed, bein’ sem wi’out a word 0’ warnin’ to destruc- tion, an’ sprang across to pull the lev- ers back. 'As I did so I thought 0’ little Nellie a-comin’ down the loop wi’ my dinner, an’ how surprised she’d bk to see the great express rushin’ towarc her, an’. involuntarily I cast a glance out o’ the window in the direction I knew she’d be comin’. : Aye, there was the little figure I loved so well, sure enough; but when ,was that, that made my heart grow 'suddenly cold wi’in me, an’ sent the :blood surgin’ up to my temples till my grain felt on fire? Passin’ my hancl "tilj‘y. if" course o’_that train? Most likely it would be supposed that the shock had dazed me, an’ rendered me incapable o’ actin’ promptly, as had been the case wi’ so many men afore me. Why shouldn’t I let the express go on un- chezkcd, an’ save Nelly? Thank God, though, the temptations wasn’t for long! horribh I was one, but what was I compared wi’ all the vast host 0‘ wives an’ daughters an‘ husbands an’ fathers. that would be thrown into scrrow. an' mournin if any accident happened to ,that train? I should be branded ever after with the curse c' minder. an’ worse than mur~ dei'. - No. I would do my duty at all haz- ards. an’ the big drops 0‘ sweat droppen from my forehead as I thought 0' the sin I'd been very near committin'. "Nelly. Nelly!" I shouted through the. window, as loud as my parched: throat would let me, “lie down, lie down." an' I pointed between the rails; then, wi’ one brief prayer that came right from thebottom o"my heart, I flung the handle back only just in time. - I heard the points come over, the en gine almost strikin' them as they did so. but just swarvin’ in time to get on the loop—an' then I knew no' more, 'across my eyes, I looked again—surel)I for my senses were mercifully taken I must be mistaken! ; No. It was no delusion—.there‘ was my little girl walkin’ in the four foot—- a thing she’d never done afore to my knowledge~right in the track 0’ the advancing express. She had got the basket in one hand, an’ was holdin her little hat up in the air wi’ the oth- er, an’ I almost fancied I could see the laugh 0’ childish glee on her face as she watched the bright ribbon flutterin ,in the breeze. ? “Nelly, Nelly!” I shouted, deSperate- 1y, but she evidently didn’t hear, for she took no notice. A sickenin’ foreboding 0’ ill came over me, an’ I stood wi’ my hands or the lever irresolute. If I pulled the lever back it meant al- most certain death to Nelly—chubby rosy-checked little Nelly, the darlin 0' her mother’s heart; the little, win- some child I’d played wi’ on my knee ever since she was a baby, an’ if I didn’t, it meant equally certain destruc 1‘ heavy : tion to the express, wi’ its freight 0’ human bein’s, which was by this time not more than a couple 0 " hundred yards away. That terrible struggle between love an' duty, which took place all inside 0 half a minute, will never be wiped of] my memory. “Switch her over, you fool!” yelleo the plate-layer, who had now got close sight 0’ Nelly, an’ was silent, for per haps he too had got a little girl at home. His shout did not reuse me, however for wicked thoughts filled my brain ~Who could say wi’ any certainty what was the reason if I didn‘t turn the ANNA E. GUMAER. 1. Long years a - go, one 2. So ev - or since that Now That you can that a say shy, So [ away, an’ I fell to the floor 0‘ the cabin in a dead swoOn. * if t C It 4: =2: . When I came to again I was lyin’ in my own room at home, wi‘ Jenny bend- in’ over'me, an’ passin' her hand over my hot brow. “Nelly,” I murmured. shudderin'ly expectin’ to be greeted wi‘ a burst a sobs. To my surprise. however. Jenny went away. an’ in a few Seconds, durin which I lay in a kind 0' sleep ' wonder not havin’ quite recovered from my swoon, returned, leadin’ by the hand our little girl—~11nharmed! After I had caizglit her up in my arms an’ kissed her passionately again an’ again they-told me how, on heal-in my shout. she had obediently lain down an' how the big express. by some mer- ciful dispensation 0’ Providence. had passed clean over her wi’out harming her so much as a scratch. 'I he passen- gers, when they got to know about it, collected a sum 0' money for me, an called me. a hero. .but none 0' then: ever dreamed 0' that terrible tempta‘ tin" The Buffalo Commercial tells a story of a little girl who was greatly (lis- turbed by the discovery that her lnlvh- ers had set traps to catch birds. l.—,!I.iE‘.S- l tioned as to what she had dine in the up to to box, but then he, too, caughl' matter, she replied: "I prayed that. the traps might not catch the birds." “Anything else?’ “Yes,” she said: "i then prayed that God would prevail; the birds getting into the traps, and," as if to illustrate the doctrine of faith and works, “I went and kicked the trans all to pieces.” un - der - stand just some day bash - ful ma it looks at you like this—Then he turns a - round and thinks not be i.\. 7 ET ’1‘ '74:. ' _ a - fraid— he’s some-where near 300 MILES OF (GOLD. KLONDIKE TOWNS ARE VERY LIKE EARLY TOMBSTONE. Some Good Canadian Mining Laws-One Man Can Have but One (Claim-Wage: and the Chances of the Te nderfoot—The Territory Not Restricted. A correspondent of the New York. Journal writing from Dawson City says: Unless all signs mislead, as signs have rarely mislead, not California in the days of ’49, not Australia, not the prolific Rand in South Africa should rank with it. I venture to estimate the output of gold for the season from the placers in the immediate neighborhood of Dawson at $5,000,000. Some of the enthusiastic miners here say that the product for the season will be nearer $10,000,000 than $5,000,000, but I. have noticed a local inclination to brag and I want to be entirely within the facts:. in any information I send out from this camp of marvels. Dawson has grown like a mushroom since the news of the richness of the mines in this neighborhood has reach- ed the other diggings along the Yu— kon and its tributaries. The present population of this town is about 4,000. Men are streaming in as rapidly as their legs or the river steamers or horses will transport them. We in Dawson have a notion that by the close of the season there will be 10,- 000 people in the town. i And such a town! It has some of the characteristics of mining camps that Bret Harte has made into story, but it has qualities that California camps never had and never eculd have. The game of life is played fast, and the bolsterous side of mining camps is developing as the population increases. Now Dawson would match Tombstone when Tombstone was young. There are gamblers by the score, and there are dance halls by the score. The principal source of fighting in frontier mining camps, disputes over the possession of claims, has been missing up to this time from the Klondyke region. The Canadian min- ing laws seem fair, and they are re— garded and are enforced as well as possible by the small official force rep- resenting the Dominion Government. A section in the law prohibits a miner from “taking up” more than one claim in a neighborhood. This provision of law leads to caution in the selection of claims, and stops land grabbers from controlling all the claims in sight. I do not mean that all the residents of Dawson are willing to obey the law merely because it is law. for I am certain that many of the men are wor- rying their brains to devise schemeslto get hold of 5. number of claims, and would be glad to evade the rules. Min- ers generally work in groups, or com— panies, and each member of a group he ran to me pray fly— But A why He won’t you, But just turn paid to every man. a - way —cause' a ti‘ou - ble you i a' Q nas an interest. in all—the claims warli- ed for the joint account of himself and companions. But the caution I have mentioned shows itself in the big pop- . ulation of the town. There is no good reason that so many should. be here, except this provision of law 'restrain— ing a man to one “location.” When a miner, has “only one rattle out of the box” he takes time before making his throw. . Therefore Dawson is a base of operations for men who go out from ' this centre on prospecting trips. There are no openings here for new- comers to locate claims along any of the creeks where gold placers are known to exist. All the claims on the “good ground” in this immediate vic- inity have been taken up. A stranger has to get out and prospect in places of which nothing definite is known, yet, of course, places just as likely to contain gold as any of the claims that have yielded the big fortunes to the miners. Parties leave here every day on pros- pecting tours. When a discovery of gold is reported crowds rush out in frenzy to the place. , The thronging in of men is making an important change in the prices paid for labor. While provisions are dear, the price of labor is going down. I» have known a laborer to get $20 a day for his toil, but that price was not The indication now is that many men who must have food and clothing will crowd the town and that the rate of wages will fall to the cost of subsistence. Flour is $6 a sack. ~ iv; The weather is intensely disagree- able. The mercury has stood at 87 de- grees for two hours in the shade ,and this is morning. And there are mos« quitces—millions and millions of mos- quitoes— voracious as wharf rats, fiercely stinging. They contribute to the disconit‘orts of living on the Klon- «lyite. (field in one form or another has sz-l‘; found along a belt nearly three -1u:dred miles long. By the closed rt -'-. season much more will be known f 1113 character of this belt, for the .rrsrecting going: on is thorough, the .irm ziisiances and population con- sidm rd. and more definite information 511' "Hi le.;ult. ‘5'? 1: I can send a trustworthy re- next for :. 1e guidance of persons con- templating a trip to the Yukon next Spring. 1 shall hurry it down. Just now not much that is definite can be said 'to persons not on the ground, be- cause of the absence of available open— ings for stakes in any district known to be worth working. Those who have claims on the Bon- anza, the El Dorado and the Bear seem certain of immense fortunes. I cannot truthfully say more. His time Light. Cholly—I don’t believe in hiding my ight under a bushel. Polly—No; especially when a pill or; would do.—-New York Journal. CHORUS. ‘ man that’s shy, a man that’s shy, a-bout a kiss; But you bit —-.- You mayr ,a- a . Us.— fifi —o 0. ————~—- 3 — round, he’s nit. ’3 *__ 3" rs.“— a I ~ ._7'Z*--__1____.A..__... -
Norwalk Chronicler