3 VEN TIMES ONE- " ‘ w ‘ m: slew left on the daisies and clOVer . re's no rain left in heaven: . l u: said my “seven times" Lver and over- Seven times one are seven. ! Hm old, so old. I can write a letter. My birthday lessons are done: The. lambs play always—they know no better They are only one times one. 0 moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining; so round and low: _ You were bright! ah. bright! but your light is failing— You are nothing now but a bow. You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven. That God has hidden your face ‘2 I hope. if you have. you will soon be forgiven. And shine again in your place. 0. velvet bee. you’re a dusty fellow—- You've powdered your legs with gold! 0 brave n.arsh marybuds, rich and yellow. Give me your money to hold! 0 cclumbine, open your folded wr ipper, Where two twinturtle doves dwell ! 0 cuckoo pint, tell me the purple clapper That hangs in your clear green bell! And show me the nest with your young one: in it: i will not steal them away: ' lam old, you may trust me, linnc-t, iinnet~ 1 am seven times one to-day. ; — J on n lngelow. A RUN—KWAY rum. There have lately been turned out of the Southern Pacific Railroad shops at one of tlie'big terminals of that road on the Pacific Coast four of the largest consolidated pattern engines in use, designed especially for mountain 5 work, whose plans and specifications' were drawn by probably the only lady expert mechanical engineer in Amer< ' ica, if not in the world. How she at‘ tained her present position is one of _ the railroad legends of the road for which she works, but I believe the story has never been in print. A number of years ago, about fifteen I believe, some lucky prospectors “lo- cated" mining claims away up in the almost inaccessible fortresses of one 0-! the mountain ranges of the West, and the phenomenal riches of the lead amply repaid the heavy expenses of- the “mule train” that was used to “pack” the output of the railroad. Eventually the prosperity of the first proprietors brought other adventurous spirits to the lucky spot and later a rich syndicate bought out all the smaller claims on the ledge and estab- lished there the great mills and smelt- ers of the Calumet Mining and Smelt- ing Company. Then the Southern awakened to the importance of the enterprise, and after a series of con« sultations with the syndicate, in the course of which a very handsome financial proposition was made by the miners, a branch road was surveyed .up through the canons to the site of the now rapidly growing town. The difficulties were almost insurmount- able, but at last the work was done and a very crooked and dangerous piece of track was the result. Its grades were precipitous in the ex- treme, its curves sharp to the last de— gree, and its, roadbed‘so, narrow in Pacific people I - from the second crossing bridge, .4 WEEKLY ungw All ,1, ii? " n. A... 7131‘ 'r: . is. some places that if a car became de- railed it was either demolished against the rockwall on one side or went to the bottom of the gorge on the other there to lie and rot and rust away. Once over the cliff the cost of raising an ore car would almost pay for a new one, and the company seldom made any effort to recover the wreckage. One point on the shore road had al- ways been dreaded by the trainmen, and this was the sharp curve at the approach to what was called the sec- o:d' crossing. It 'had been a prolific source of wrecks and the rocks below the bridge were strewn with the 'nrok- en timbers and bent and twisted iron- work of dozens of ore cars that had plunged over the sheer sides of the deep gorge. This Second crossing bridge was at the foot of the heaviest . grade and from there the road wound through the beautiful Silver Creek Valley to the “Junction,” where joined the main line of"the Southern Pacific. At the point where the leVel track commenced, hardly a stone’s throw the company had built a short siding for the use of the giant consolidated en- gine that was used to push the long trains of ore cars up the mountain, and just across the main track from the siding stood the little cottage where John Clarke, the engineer, and his daughter, Jessie, lived. Miss Jessie at that time was nearly sixteen, and for the last three years had been her father’s housekeeper. All her life she had been intimately as- sociated with, railroad men, and for the three years that her father had been running the big “pusher" she had had no other companion than a little brother, several years her junior. All her spare time she spent with her father about the engine, and had made it an enthusiastic study until, at sixteen, she knew its mechanism about as thoroughly as did her gray-haired father; in fact, it was her boast that she could “run the consolidator as good as. daddy.” A short time before the incident hfi.‘ pened of which I am about to tell you, a tourist delayed by a wreck at the bridge had spent the day at Clark’s cottage. The little housekeeper had made the day very pleasant for him buy piloting him about the valley, and on leaving he had given her a pair of powerful field glasses. They were her dearest earthly pos— session, for with them she could see her father’s engine as it crept down the mountain for nearly an hour be- fore he would arrive at the siding. The long stretches of road as it wound around the crags up the canon, now for a mile in sight, then disap- pearing among the rocks, only to re- appear still further up the mountain, were always an interesting study for the girl and but for those field glasses, the young lady’s practical knowledge of railroading and her unparalleled nerve, the Southern Pacific would have had one wreck that would have cost many lives. it, One August evening Miss Clarke was watching through the field glasses the effect of the sunlight on the bril- liant quartz rock at the farthest point up the mountain, where the track could be seen from the valley and only a short distance from the big mills at the top of the hill. Her father and his fireman had gone to the junction for some supplies, and were to return on the “mail,” now nearly due. Her lit- tle brother-was “playing fireman,” and with a big bunch of waste was rubbing up the bright work about the big en- gine. The twilight silence in the val- ley was only broken by the occasional hiss of escapingsteam and the steady, monotonous “pound" of the air pump on the engine, which her father had forgotten to shut off before he left. She had just noticed it, and was about to goto the engine and shut off the steam when, as she took one last look, she was almost paralyzed by the sight of a long train of ore cars creeping around the curve. Two or three of the laborers at the mines were still on them, but hand brakes would never stop that heavy train, and as it slowly gained in speed, she saw them leave the train. Then she thought of the lit- tle passenger train that would be there in a few minutes and in another mo- ment she was climbing into the cab of the big engine and telling her little brother what to do. “Open the switch, Johnnie; and when I get down on the main track shut it and run down the track and flag num- ber one. Tell dad I’m up the hill to catch a runaway.” Johnnie did as he was told and the powerful engine rolled out of the sid- ing, aeross the bridge and was soon tearing up the hill at full speed toward - the now rapidly approaching train. As' she left the siding her one thought had been to save the pas- senger train from an awful collision, but as she crossed the bridge she thought of a little story her father had lately told of how he had once caught a runaway train with his engine and had stopped it before it could do any awful danger. If “Daddy" could do it, she could. ' For nearly four miles up the hill the big engine fairly flew, then, as she reached a long stretch of straight track where the view was clear for nearly a mile, she shut off the steam and gradu- ally the locomotive stopped. Jessie looked up at the steam guage. The pointer indicated only 100 pounds pressure. Keeping a close watch on the track ahead, the, intrepid girl left ‘ the throttle and, opening the fire—box door, replenished the fire. Just as the last scocpful of coal was thrown in and the door closed the runaway shot around the curve into view, and, start- ing the engine bank, the girl watched closely for a chance to catch the now rapidly moving train. Down the heavy grade went engine and cars, the distance between them rapidly growing shorter. On a little piece of straight track, a little over a :1 mile from the dangerous brid 3e, Jessie decided to take the last desperate chance, and as the engine Testbed the desired point, only a few feet ahead of the flying ore cars, the girl gave the engine a light touch of the air-brake, and then, with mighty impact, the heavy train struck the engine, then the air-brake was sent to the “emer- gency notch,” but so great was the speed of the traim that even that did but little to slacken the speed, that awful curve at the bridge was al- most in sight. Jessie almost lost her nerve as she thought of that deadly place. She knew the big engine would never round it at its present rate of speed. Suddenly the escape valve of the en- gine opened with a mighty roar, tell— ing" her the powerful engine was straining and quivering under the pressure of nearly 200 pounds of steam, and then a favorite axiom of her father’s, came to her mind: “If air won’t hold ’em, give ’em steam.” One supreme effort of the strong young arms and the reverse lever of the black giant was thrown over, the sand pipes were opened, and with steady hand Jessie opened the throt- tle, throwing a mighty force against the heavy train. Now the speed of the train ma— terially decreased, but the big loco- motive rolled and rocked like a ship at sea as she safely rounded the dan- gerous curve and shot out on the high bridge, and then came another shock for the sorely tried girl, for standing in front of the cottage, almost hidden by a dense cloud of black smoke, stood the little passenger train with its load of unsuspecting travellers. Here again the girl’s knowledge of railroad craft came .to her, and she knew that no power on earth could .stop that heavy train to avert a col- lision, but she could signal to them. A brown hand reached for the whistle cord, and in a second more the deep valley was resounding to the hoarse roar of the duplex whistle giving three loud blasts—the railroaders’ signal: “Back up." The signal was just in time; as the passenger train backed out of the way the big consolidator and its string of ore cars rolled heavily by, the train now under control, but still moving with sufficient force to have done con- siderable damage. As the train passed the siding, Clarke and his fireman climbed on the cars and soon stepped them; and as Jessie jumped to the ground she al- most alighted on a tall gray mustached old gentleman. He was Charles Arch- er, vice-president and general manager of the Southern Pacific, and a man who never failed to recognize and reward merit; and it was at his hands Miss Clarek received the education that fitted her for the position she now oc- cupies and who placed the lady’s name on the “merit ‘roll” of the southern Pacific Railroad at a salary of $1,500 per year, work or play, as long as she .ives.—By A. M. Strong. ‘ and BUT "$5,000”A‘ * YEAR. SENATOBS AND-CONGRESSMEN DO NOT LIVE. WITHIN THEIR INCOME. In Both Houses of Congress the Predomi- 11(3an '0'! Wéalthy Men is Becoming More _Marke(l'—Tlle' \Yhirl is Expensive —Rich Men Set the Social Pace. Five thousand dollars is the salary of a Senator and a Representative in Congress, but it is a matter of common report in Washington, and a subject of remark from the individuals them- selves, that the greater portion of the , members of the two houses-of Congress do not live within this income. It should be added at this point that $5,000 does not represent all that the Senator or Representative gets from the government. He 'is allowed mile- age between his home and Washington at the beginning and close of each ses— sion to the extent of twenty cents a mile each way. As nine tenths of the members travel on passes, that is a clear gain. He is allowed $125 a year for stationery. The Representative is given $1,200 a year for clerk hire. He can certify this to his wife or his daughter, as many of them do. Very few, it is claimed, pay out the full amount to, a clerk. The Senator has $1,500 a year for clerk hire. With all this it is a fact generally accepted that only a few of the nation’s legislators live within their official incomes. The increasing tendency of statesmen toward expensive living has been plain- ly noticeable to close observers within the last ten years. It is no reproach however, for it does not in all cases mean that they are living beyond their total income from all sources. One explanation of this condition is that richer men are going to Congress now. It is the fashion in many com- munities for men who have been suc- cessful in commercial pursuits o.‘ at the bar to seek the honor and the amount of fame that is supposed to at- tach to a seat in the House of Repres- entatives. It is becoming more and more the custom in State Legislatures ' to elect as Senators men who have achieved distinction in financial circles, as the executives of great business in- stitutions, wresters of fortunes from crude materials and men cf affairs gen- . erally. These Senators and Representatives set the pace at the capital for their col- leagues in the matter of maintenance of establishments; or rather, it is done by their families, and made possible by the emulation of the families of the others. t is conceded to be a'matter of prac. tical impossibility for the average Sen- ator or Representative to save any- thing out of his salary. It is not un- usual for a member of the House‘to serve two or three terms in congress, lose his law praCtice or his business at home by, his absence and attending to, his duties, at Washington. and to -....-..... «W .».,.. ~.—.......-...-. w.» - 11‘ ,_,., ~ .1. ‘:.;. .. a go out or Congress, in debt. There are exceptions, of course, in the 'cases of men from remote rural'districts, accus- tomed to plain’ l'i'vi'n‘g'at home and With small families, who'exercise rigid econ. omy while here, and live within their official income. Theyare the exceptions however, and not the rule. The states- man finds demands upon his purse that he did 'not dream of, and in a. short time, by force of 'circumstanCes sur- rounding his ofilcial position, gets into habits of living foreign to his previous experience unless he was a rich man at home. The last few years have shown an- increasing tendency upon the part of Senators and Representativesof means to owu homes at the National Capital. Some of them have permanently lo- cated there, and their families only go to their former homes occasionally up: on a visit. - Some of the handsomest homes in Washington are maintained by Sena< tors and Representatives'in Congress. The magnificent mansion of Senator Hale of Maine is one of the most pala- tial of the Congressional residences. It is a new house, built after the Colon- ial style. and of a size which is appal- ling to the average W'ashingtonian, ac. customed to a wedge shaped residence of red brick, resembling a slice of cake set upon end. It takes a small fortune to run it. , ‘ Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, of Mas- sachusetts. lives upon the avenue named for his state in a house which is remarkable rather for its good taste and comfort of arrangement than for magnificence. He would probably find it very difficult, however, to keep up appearances upon a Senator's official income. With the exception of Sena.- tor Vl’etmore, Senator Lodge, Senator; Hale and Senator Proctor, the New England contingent in the upper House are not men of great wealth. Among the Representatives in Con- gress who maintain luxurious homes an Washington is Mr. Dalzell, of Penn- .‘zz-‘Lvania He lives on Vermont. ave- nue. i: the fashionable northwest sec- ‘1'“ LT‘ the lay, and in a style which .. o. He make short work of a Represen— at . .L.‘ s salary. He makes a great deal o; .e;; out of the practice of law, h. n. and is counsel for many rich no}, -. in Pittsburg. ll 7"”. ascertained by men who mm: .. r:-:;- Senate and. the House that lie. cl!!!)u.!ilent provided by law .for .;e'r SSFV (tea is but an incident of their .l.)llgl‘\:....i"il.ll experience, and not wor- thy ,0 :e classed as an attraction. It an be . .d down as a rule that would ppiy to more than a. majority of cases list the man who can work his way nto the Senate or .the House can make mare money in a year outside of COn~ "ass thrr. i a can in it, and that, if he ' ts to ~.etire from the public life to -.‘. d. Her in his pocket he wll! have -.- it outside of his salary and in :zlhei' business. u. THE DISTANT LAN D. English version by SPERANZA. Con moto. Bear me, ye light, dancing bil - loWs, Fra-get mich, schwankende Wel- - len, p legato. wil - lows - hel - len, Whis - per love-Scmgs to ‘ Fueh - re mich, schwellen-der Wind! Qua fern; gm. Swift-1y a-.cross the blue seas: the breeze! O - ver each val-leynnd hill, Lockt mich cin schooner—er Strand; «f’:.._ cn’s. assaz'. > In that far land the sun,‘ shin - Mild ist das Fcu-cr der \Son - Blissful - 1y ing, n3, Ue - ber die Tie" - fe ge-schwind; I would be dream-ing, VGlacnzcndcr lcuchten die Ster - ne Burns with 3. Tie - fer das himm -1i -sche Blau; Composed by A. HENSELT; To those bright isles where Dort "zu .den In-seln, den Then,when the pale stars are gleam-ing Dort in der son - ni - gen Fer - ne Lull’d by some mur-mur-ing In dem glueckse - li - gen soft, subdued light; Then the soul nev - er Land voll un - end - bar - er Won - - is - .ning........ For the cool pi- is“ Ze - phyrs of Und Whilst an - gel voi - ces, re - ply! - Ach, zu _ den herr . li - Chen Raeu - pa. - ra - dise, sigh - ing, in den rauschcn -den Baeu - \ men ing, Mur-mur the T9“ 7”— Hence,then a-way; yes, for - ev - er to stay in that dis - tant Hin zu demfroehli-chen, hin zu dem se -li-gcn, fer - nen . ¥ ‘19 to stay in dem se - ev - er hin zu 149-. that dis - ' - 1i -- gen for - - land Land ! tant nen ferdma’osz’. - I . uls- . l" 1' men Zieht mich ufi - end - lich -er in that dis - - zu dcmier . - ’ - still-ncss of night. 5': nc,Gleichst der hold - se - lig - sten Frau; 9-- l _ _ .,' ~ . . _: :al . Sing to the trees a. .sweet,.strain. _ . Toent es wie Geis - ter 9 ge - sang; a re ca-dence a - gain! Drang! ’ Hence, then a - way; yes, for Hin zu dem froehli - c tant land ! nen Land! i «ma-v
Norwalk Chronicler