Evening Star Newspaper, February 13, 1897, Page 18

18 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1897-24 PAGES, (Copyright, 1807, by Cy Warman.) ‘Any one could see by the air of industry that pervaded the place that something unusual busy. Three or four switch engines—noisy Uittle tugs of the rail—were puffing and snorting amid the sea of cars that covered the freight yards. Down at the round- house the day foreman, in a newly washed suit of overclothes, hurried to and fro with crumpled copies of telegrams from the trainmaster. The boss wiper, with his gang, was clearing the circle ir. front of the house of dirty waste and himps of coal. One of the men was sweeping the turn-table with a new broom. yard engine came by with a freshly painted mail car, and another followed it with a mile or so of empties, reminding you of @ little black wnt at one end of a fish ‘worm. The disp: ma: and new pre: the board directors, first tour of inspection. were now dashing, at the rate of a mile a| matter, As the HE MYS f | US M NY f minute, into the open door of death. ee ee ey ee eters oe ae The superintendent, who had looked into the ghost-like face of the girl as she him on = stair, erg read bare terious message’ a wrong done and return at once to tl BY CY WABMAN. dispatcher’s office, determined to have the matter out with his rebellious trainmaster. was going on. superintendent had gone 's office to talk with the train- er about a meeting point for No. 8 he peciel. This war with the chairman of was making his into the . Who, of out that morning, occupying a camp stool on the rear platform of No. 8. All these things combined to show to the most casual observer that something was up. In the face of every officer of the road at this particular point there was a look of anxiety, as though he might be repeating: He'll cut me off or let me stay, Just as he happens to feel today. The division superintendent who had Just gone into the dispatcher's office was @n exception to the rule that all subordi- nate officials are afraid of a new manage- ment. He knew his business, and knew he could go with the retiring manager to an- other road. The trainmaster was of a different caste. He was as nervous as a maiden lady in her first bicycle suit. Hav- ing sent the “trick” man away he was handling the trains himself, to make sure that everything was O. K'd- “I sent a girl over here yesterday—an operator,” said the superintendent, after they had fixed the meeting point, “and you sent her away. I have instructed her to all here again this morning, and I hope you will be good enough to put her to work. Her father was the engineer who was killed when the fast mail went in the ditch on the east end, and she is the only sup- port her mother ha: The trainmaster mumbled something about the compeny running unnecessary risks for charity's sake, when the superin- tendent cut him off with the information that there was no charit just an act of simple justice and decency, and he hoped the t aster would not oply give the girl something to do, but that he would take especial care of her and keep her out of trouble. The man at the key said he would endeavor to find a place for her, but he positively refused to be re- about it. It was sponsible for her. ‘Then, sir,” said thé superintendent, “I shall cease to be re- sponsible for ¥ and there followed a scene in the midst of which a pale girl slipped into the room and sank upop a seat rved by either of Is. perintendent. after pacing the room a time or two, paused at one of the win- the yards. The presi- dent's special had for the moment been forgotten by the dispatcher, who now turned to the key to send the order for the meeting. z Still smarting from the effect of the tilt with his chief, his mind was disturbed. ‘The office was now as still as death, save for the clicking of the keys and the slow, measured ticking of the great clock above the dispatcher’s desk—the clock that marked time for all the clocks on the entire systerr. Presently the dispatcher jerked the key open and began to call Westcreek, and when he got them said: “Train No. 8, Conductor Smith, will take siding for special west Eng. 88 at East- oxen ow he began calling the operator at Tookout siding, and when he answered the dispatcher shot him an order that almost burned the wir ‘Special west, Engine 88, will meet train S at Westcreek.” The pale girl sprang to her feet. The dis- patcher turned and saw her, and when he realized that she must have overheard the quarrel between the superintendent and himself his anger rose against the innocent young woman, and the other offictal, seeing their embarrassment, quit the room by a side door. dows overlooking N oodiough, you've made a great said the girl. * shouted the trainmaster, “and do you expect a salary for correcting me?” “Look at your sheet. You've—" “What?” yelled the man, “do you mean For heaven's sake, man,” pleaded the girl, “see what you've done—iook at the clock—there’ll be a collision tn less than ten minutes. You'll be a murderer if you fail te save those trains.” “You're about as crazy as they get.” said the dispatcher, and really she looked like a imad woman, with her big eyes burning In ber pale face Of a sudden she turned, darted out of the office and ran down the stairs as an actress quits a burning hotel. a bird in a telegraph office,” tered the trainmaster going back to his desk. Ah, well! I'm sorry for her and glad she’s gone. I presume she's lost her mind grieving after her father; but what could have put that fool notion in her head? Can it be—" and then he stepped short, staring at the train sheet in front of lim, and one would have thought te look at him that his eyes had caught the wild light that was in the eyes of his visitor, and that the malady he seemed to see in ber mind had been suddenly transmitted to his. Now he glanced quickly from the sheet to the clock. “Twenty-seven,” he heart that No. 8 was ‘reek at twenty-eight, and he mbling hand for the key and began calling the operator. Ten, twenty, thirty secands went by and no answer came Him That There Had Been ‘isiom om the Read for Over a he could see the operator standing out in Iront of the little station with a pen be- hind his ear and ink on his shirt sleeve. another five seconds he callef, and as the minute wasted it seemed to him that bis blood was bofling and his brain on fire. Then he thought of cailing Eastcreek to hold the special. The operator, who hap- pened to be at the key about to report, an- swered quickly, and the dispatcher asked: “Where's the special?” “Gone,” sata the wire, and the trainmas- ter pitched forward, fainting among the inkstands and instruments. ‘The operator at Westcreek stood in front of the little station, smiling at the road- master on No. 8, and the operator at East- creek sat looking through the window at the president's private car, ckering up in the distance; and the three vers, ignorant of the awful mistake, 7 us sy without appear- section boss saw that each man was at his shovel, and waved a slow” signal himself to show the offi- clals that they had been doing something to the track. The roadmaster had gone 1 He had entered the office unobserved by the eperitor and stood directly behind him where the and heard him ask Eastcreel special was and heard the answer, “Gone. Of this he made nothing, until’ the dis- patcher threw out his arms and fell for- ward upon his desk; then the superintend- ent knew that something had gone wrong. A glance at the record of the dispatcher's work showed it all. It was 9:29. The great clock told him that No. $ had already passed Westcreek, the special had passed Eastcreek and now there was nothing to do but wait for the collision, which, in the narrow, crooked canyon, was sure to come. Tenderly he lifted the limp dispatcher from the table and laid him upon the floor. He poured water in his hand and bathed the face of the unfortunate official, but it failed to revive him, and then he called up the hospital and ore of the surgeons came with an ambulance and carried the sick man away. ‘The superintendent, who was himself an operator, celled Eastcreek, and told him to let nothing pass that point west-bound un- til further notice from the dispatcher's of- e. He walked to the window and looked out ever the coach yards, and saw the pale girl pacing the platform, waiting for a train to carry her back to her home. Her beart was heavy with dread of the col- lision, and at thought of returnin® to her widowed mother with the news of her fall- ure to secure work. The superintendent tapped upon the window with a switch key and, when she looked up, beckoned her to him. “Take that seat,” said the superinten- dent, pointing to an empty chair at the dis- patcher’s desk. She did as he had told her, and waited tremblingly for the wire to give her something to do. Mr. Creamer, the first trick man, who had been sent away, having heard of the sudden illness of the trainmaster, now came hurriedly into the office. The superinten- dent waved his hand in the direction of the “WHAT DISTRESSES YOU ?” investigation proceeded the superintendent became intensely interested in the mystery. For a while he kept the matter to himself, but these things will out, and in less than a month’s time the “mys- oid the leading le in shops, cabs, way cars and boarding houses. To say that the clocks were at variance would not satisfy a railroad man, for they had taken time at 9 a. m., only a half hour before the message went out. In time the story of the “mysterious mes- sage” came to the ears of the president at Boston, end as his life had been saved bv the sending of this wire, which amounted to almost a miracle, he set himself at once to the task of solving the mystery. He be- longed to a certain society whose members delight to delve in things occult, and they were not Jong in accounting for all that had occurred It fell out later that the treasurer’s clerk was,also a member of the Boston society to which the president be- longed. So Baw er eS pee The day’s work in a dispatcher’s office is divided Into three tricks. “The first trick man works: from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m., the second from that hour to the end of the day, and the third man works the “death trick”—in which rearly all the ugly wrecks occur—frem midnight till morning. “You may go, now,” said Mr. Creamer to the girl, when the second man came in and took his trick at 4 o'clock. = “Shall I—come—back in the morning? asked the girl with some embarrassment. “Yes,” was the answer after a moment's thought. By a sort of unwritten rule the first trick man had stepped to the post of train mas- ter when that industrious but over-zealous officer had fallen. we “Whose initials shall I put to this order? asked the girl, sending her first message on the morning of the second day. “Your own,” said Mr. Creamer, and the receiving operator at Livingston wondered who the new dispatcher could be. Every night after midnight the operators along the line would ground wire, cutting off the officials, and discuss the new dispatcher. <Not a few of them felt that they were entitled to promotion, and were in favor of sending a grievance committee in at once. “Who is the new guy?” asked the operator at Lookout one afternoeon, when he sup- ASKED MISS MORGAN. desk where the girl sat. ‘Keep your seat,” said the dispatcher, as she was about to | rise, and after glancing over the work, turned a blanched face to the superinten- dent. ‘There was a moment of silence in which the two men gazed helplessly into each others’ faces and listened constantly for a call from East or Westcreek. The keys clicked merrily, and the girl, whose cheeks were now burning red, gathered in the re- ports from the various stations of the com- ing and going of many trains. Now the operator at Eastbrook touched the key ard said: “No. 8 twenty minutes late,” and fresh color came to the white faces in the dispatcher’s office. eo Tet seq eet) rel le When the operator at Westcreek quit- ted the platform and re-entered the office, he heard a hurry-up call for him, which came in a quick, nervous way, end toid him that he was wanted. He answered at once and got this in return: “Hold No, 8, lap order.” ‘The last two words assured kim that compMance with this order was recessary to prevent a collision. “No. 8 is gene,” he replied. “Hold her—T. J. G. came back to him in an instant. The man ig crazy, thought the operator, but he would try. As he rushed from the office a light” engine was just pulling out of the siding to take water. This locomotive be- longed to the crew of a work train, but the train had been left in the siding. The operator sprang into the cab and shouted to the engineer to pull out and catch No. 8 “Lap order,” he added, and that was enough. The driver, without waiting for his fireman, who was some yards behind, tugging at a stiff switch in an effort to close it, pulled the throttle open and bound- ed away up the steep grade behind the nger train. PeNow they could see the rear end of No. 8 just whipping a corner. The roadmaster saw the approaching engine and as she came nearer guessed that she was run- ning wild—riderless—or that her rider had lost control of her. It might be that the engineer did not see them. Theirs was a heavy train—they were losing time. He re- membered that they had been two minutes late at Westcreek. He called the rear flag- man, who was “railroading” with a dead- head conductor in the smoking room of the sleeper. The flagman took in the situa- tion at a glance. His business was to fiag, regardless of circumstances and vague pos- sibilities, and before the roadmaster could stay him the fearless flagman swung him- self round and dropped from the train. Ry the time he had regained his feet and found his flag the light engine, uttering a wild shriek, dashed by him. The engineer, to avoid running by a red flag, turned his face to the fireman's side and refused to Now he see the danger signal. was near enough to whistle the other engines “down,” and the enginemen pulling the passenger train shut off, and when the driver of the light engine saw a chtmney of white steam shoot up from each of the forward locomotives, he knew they had quit, and slowed his own machine accord- ingly. When they had come up to the train the operator ran to the rear of No. &, shouted, “Lap order, back up,” and hur- ried over to the head end. The road- master reached for the rope and signaled the engineers to back up. ‘The drivers opened their throttles and whistles and began-te-jam the train back. The driver of the light engine reversed at once upen drepping the operator, pick- ed up the flagman and was now backing away for Westcreek at a frightful pace. His firemen, still at the switch, let him in on the siding. No. 8 dropped in after him, and just as the operater and conductor had forced the stubborn rails back to the main line, the president's special crashed over the ‘switch. Not a soul on board the special knew how near they had been to death. Their orders read to meet No. 8 at Westereek, and there she was, in to clear, just as the daring driver of the special engine had expected to find her. The conductor of No. 8, with his two en- gineers, the ter and operator, wasted five minutes reading, checking, comparing and examining the orders they had received. They were all signed “T. J. .” by the trainmaster himself. The thing was plain—he had given a lap order, but had discovered his mistake ih time, by the good fortune that had left the light engine at Westcreek, to prevent an awful disaster. He was a good fellow id they were all glad he had saved himself, although the incident might work to his embarrassment when he came up promotion. Inci- par they were glad that they were To appreciate the mysterious part of t ber oy ares — mee Hrs tee v of time—not of hours but of seconds—in a =esters track railroad. It will be remem- 't_Goodlough discovered his mis- No, 8 was due to pass West- and at 9:29 the superintendent ad seen the trainmaster collapse. It will be remembered also that No. 8 was two | posea the secona trick man was at the other end of the line. she had not yet been relieved. erator, finishing his query and making it she shut him off. men carried the news out over the road of trains. clock continued to measure off the days, She knew the road, he had declared “Go ahead, ‘guy,’ "’ said Miss Morgan, for “Working the first trick?’ said the op- plain. There was a dash of Irish in Min- nie Morgan, and she answered without hesitation, “Miles Mulcahy.” “Solid with the new push?” “Sure,” was the girl's answer, and then it was not long, however, until the train- that Miles Mulcahy was a woman, but not until the new dispatcher had gained some- thing of a reputation as an expert handler Some of the swift senders began to try to rush her, but it didn’t go. The great trains arrived and departed on time, the Mysterious message was still a mystery, and the girl stayed at her post. The su- perintendemt was quietly proud of his pro- tege, and Mr. Creamer was enthusiastic. | to his chief, as the red man knows the forest, and the time card as Fr. Maloney knew the catechism. “She's just a bird, that’s all,” he observed to the smiling superin- tendent, “‘a reg’lar cracker can’t tle her.” spe aie . The January sun, . * . . swinging far and low in the south, sent a stingy ray aslant the window and touched the covers on the sick man’s couch. He rubbed his eyes, looked about and whispered, “Where am I?” but he was not acting. The bare white walls, the iron bedstead, the little table and the one wooden chair told him that he was in the hospital. A vase of fresh cut roses stood upon the table, and he knew that he friend somewhere. He remembered afterward. that the smell of roses was the first thing that was quite clear to him, Have I been i?” he asked of the at- tendant, who now entered the room, for, being ‘an official, and able to pay extra, Goodlough had not been placed in the open ward. His malady, too, had been of a nar ture that required close attent! ention. At times he had been a ravin, el ing maniac, and calling for 1 the See cae a During ais said the nurse, coming ly to the sick bed, “you have boeeeeeaet = re all right now, but you must not In a little while the sick ma: fe again, fer the fever had eft che vel weak. When he awoke on the following morning his mind was much stronger. His eyes wandered directly to the little table, @nd there was the vase wit ae the vase with fresh flowe He wondered ll asleep as that none of his old fri him. Vaguely he began t 80 cheerful, rion genial, that things had turned out bette: had expected. At the end of another were the superintendent came in to see him and he, too, was as cheerful and happy as @ man could well be. “It 1s good of you come and see me,” said 4 Sgt Secret sald the sick man. “I “You do deserve it,” was the r “ I have been here many times, Sek ne tor thought you would be better off alone but now that you are so strong he says we pier ll come and see you as often as we “Will Creamer come? I alw: Dan, and his absence has hurt mo, het he has not forgotten our past friendship,” and the speaker's eyes filled with tears as — = on the vase. “He's here now,” said the superintend: touched deeply by the tears and iene. ness of the sick man. “Every morning for nearly a month he has called here to ask af.er you. I shall send him to you at =, and now you must brace up—good- The meeting between Creamer and his| sick friend was too much for the patient, and the chief surgeon, who had come in with the visitor, was obliged to send him — almost — ediately. was nearly a week before an: visitors were admitted to the sick coca Only the flowers came every morning. They were not many, but elways fresh. “I'm strong enough to know now, Dan,” said the patient when Creamer been left alone with him, “and I want you to tell me al. about it.” “About “the” collision—h “About the collision—how many wi killed?” if — “Now, I'll a you the truth, Tom; the whole truth, { nothing but the truth, as the judge would say,” began his visitor. “You did give a lap order, but you saved yourself. Westcreek did answer, and got your order to hold No. 8, and he held her, and there collision.” “Dan, T nevet Vent that message. ed to; God 1 would.giadly have given my life to har ved those poor fellows.on the engines; and the new president? Was he killed? A, Dan, why don’t you tell me the = and the miserable man held out his han sly. “I have toll the whole truth,” said Creamer. was no collision;” but Go 1k his head, his eyes filled with tears and he turned his pale, pinched face to the wet. se oe 6 ee The superinte: whose “long sult,” as the roadmé! ex it, was “hoss sense,” had maintained all along that the transmission -of— the mysterious message ‘was still a mystery. Those occult scien- Usts might sit up nights and work cut answers satisfactory to themselves, de- clared the superiatendent, but they would never go at his end of the line. “There muet be another solution of this mysterious message,” he declared to the president, “and I shall find-it before the end of the year.” At the expiration of forty days the medi- cal staff declared Goodlough sound in body ard mind, and the old trainmaster called upon the superintendent for his decision. He had begun as a messenger boy in the trainmaster’s office on an eastern road when he could barely reach the top of the high desk. He had been with this com- pany to long that he felt a proprietary in- terest in the road. He would be glad to return to his old post, but men were usu- ally dismissed for giving a lap. order. “It will not be necessary for us to review this matter,” began the superintendent, when Mr. Goodiough had seated himself in the private office of his old chief. “Under erdinary circumstances I should feel it my duty to discharge you, but in considera- tion of your excellent record and other ex- tenuating circumstances, the confusing na- ture of the numbers of the locomotives and trains, and the names of stations, I have ceneluded that I shall serve the company best by allowing you to return to your for- mer place. In dding this I wish you to understand that’ the matter of personal ip, which has grown strong in the years that we have spent together, mukes no difference in.my decision. The sixty daye which I must now give you is meant more as a punishment for your refusal to listen to a well-meant warning which might have saved you than for your carelessness in giving @ wrong order. It is more your misfortune than your fault, however, that you have lost these forty days, therefore your suspension will date from December Goodiough thanked the superintendent warmly for his consideration and went out to begin the hard task of waiting twenty days, for to him every day spent away from his work was wasted. The old trainmaster spent the greater part of his twenty days where he could hear the rattle of the instruments and the slow, measured ticking of the great clock. He was interested in, and then amazed, at the work of the young woman who was now handling the trains on the first trick. At first he felt half angry with her for be- ing able to do what he had once made a mess of, but she was so sweetly modest, and so utterly unconscious of herself and so faithful to her work, that he soon found himself wishing she were a man. He said so to Creamer, once, and she heard him. Long before his time was up he had be- gun to wonder where he could put her,, for he had no thought of letting her go. But she was a lucky soul, and it seemed that the same power that sent the ravens to Elijah looked after her. Just about the time Goodlough was to resume his office a connecting road wanted a trainmaster and the place was’ dffered to Mr. Creamer. He accepted it, of cours>. Mr. Goodlough was ordered to report for duty and having no one he considered competent at hand, al- lowed Miss Morgan to remain where he had found her. 'Tt was understood by all that this arrangement was only tempor- ary, but Goodiough soon learned that he would lose an atile assistant when he part- ed with Miss ‘Morgan, and so was a good while in making @ change which all prece- dent made necessary. The second trick man was entitifa to the first, the third man was in liné for the second and if he oe Miss Morgan she must do the “death trick.” 4 The two meh were, notifted by letter of their Promotidh, and’'then the’ trainmaster braced pees to tell the youhg lady that she would be tratjsferred'to the company’s telegraph office, uniess she chose to take the third trick, yhich He felt-ashdmed to ask her’ to do. ‘was only right and fair, she said, and she wouldrbe, glad to take the third trick. “All she wanfed was an equal show with the men afid no favors. If he could overlook, fer sex and forgive her for having been born a woman she would be content to take whatever he had to offer her. “Ye gods," said the trainmaster to himself, “she makes me ashamed. She's as brave as she ts gentle, and as brilliant as she ts beautiful.” He wondered, now, knowing her, that he had failed to see that she was a very superior woman when he sent her away without the promise, even, of employment. When the two dispatchers who had re- ceived notice of their promotion came into the trainmaster’s office they did not ap- Pear overjoyous. The man who had thus honored them saw that something was wrong, and inquired the cause of it. “It's just this way,” said the second trick man. “If you are setting Miss Mor- gan back because she is incompetent to handle the heavy business on the first trick we have nothing to say; but if the change is made because she is a woman, or as a matter of justice to us, we most respect- fully decline a promotion that will work a hardship to this most deserving girl.” “The change was ordered as a matter of justice to you, and in keeping with the policy of the management. However, if you gentlemen are disposed to do the gallant, the young lady can remain where she is. She is thoroughly competent to manage the business, and I can see no reason why she should not have an even break with the rest of us.” So the split-trick man, who had done the talking, and the “death-trick” man, who hed nodded assent, went away feeling that they had done the proper thing, and the trainmaster congratulated himself upon the result. . . nt, Minnie Mergan was a woman to win a man’s heart, if he had such a thing to lose, and so, as the spring deepened, Goodlough, who had heen too busy all his life to go out into the world and win a heart, discovered when it was too late that he was slowly but surely losing his own. Miss Morgan, on her side, had pitied Goodlough at first, and then when he recovered and came back te work she had learned to respect and scon to admire him. It might have ended there, so far as she was concerned, if he had not-falien in love with her, and showed it a dozen times @ day, or every time he attempted -f0- hide it; and soon they both loved, and each resolved to keep the secret from the other, but while Cupid held his hands over their eyes the world looked en and laughed. < They parted late at night, only to meet again in the morning. The days, that were all too short, flashed by as mile posts pass the window of am express train. In time the summer went out of the skies, the frost came and killed the flowers, but the sum- sere stayed in their hearts and kept them E vt It was winter without. The snow lay in deep drifts jepon ane Pilots of lecomotives h her firebox, had felcles upon her’ very ‘grates. Her driver, looking es rusty as his engine, was cot up the stair to tell the dispatcher thathhs ‘as nat yet in, and would utes, znd the dispatcher erased the arrival and put him in ten min- " fet iertnns might not : running. He was a Wesrimed ; the superintendent was anxious to convince him that the ae occult expert, who makes a of “seeing things nights,” knew about as much of the future or of things unknown as the out in the Atlantic. . 7 8 © 28 ee 8 @ She was still silent. The morning broke clear and beantiful and the crisp air was full of the sounds of clanging bells and the screams of switch en Express wagons came down laden with boxes and packages—bundles of sun- shine—that would find their way to hun- dreds of homes and gladden the hearts of thousands of people. Everybody was busy, AS t of the road ‘was to arrive ve ‘hen Goodlough left his private office and wandered into the room Where the dispatchers worked he heard Miss Morgan calling Westcreek, and when Westcreek answered, heard her say: “Train No. 8, Conductor Smith, will take pomsened for special west, engine 88 at East- creek.” ‘When the operator at Lookout siding an- sSwered and she said: “Special west engine 88 will meet train No. 8 at Bastcreek.’” “Bravo,” cried the trainmaster. That’s exactly what I was trying to do a year ago, only I said ‘Westcreek’ at the last. How’s everything?” “On time,” said Miss Morgan, still work- ing the key. After glancing about for a few minutes Goodlough returned to his office and sent out a bulletin promoting the operator at Westcreek to be train dispatcher on the third trick. The same order put the two old dispatchers a step nearer the presidency’ of the road. He had barely Snished this pleasant task when the superintendent came in with the president, whom Goodioush had never met. When they were all seated the superin- tendent asked the irainmaster to relate what he knew about the so-called “‘mysteri- ous message.” “I know absolutely nothing.” declared Goodlough, earnestly, for che subject was urally embarrassing to him. ou told Mr. Creamer, I believe, that you were positive that you did not send the Miss Juliet Corson, Founder of the New York Cooking School, Mrs. D. A. Lincoln, Author of “Boston Cook Book,” Mrs. Emma P. Ewing, Principal Chautanqua School of Cookery, Miss Fannie M. Farmer, Principal Boston Cooking School, Miss C. C. Bedford, Superintendent New York Cooking School, Miss Kate E. Whitaker, Normai Cookery School, San Francisco, Marion Harland, Author “Common Sense in the Household,” All Authorities On cookery, writers and teachers, OUR NATIONAL WEALTH. ‘The Narrow Which Separates the World From Starvation. Edward Atkinson in the Engineering Magazine. What we now call society in this coun- try consists of about 73,000,000 human beings. Each one must be supplied every day with two and one-half to five pounds order to Westcreck to hold No. 8, although | of food material, with fuel wherewith to your initials went with it,” said the super- intendent with the air of a lawyer cross- examining a witness. “I did.” “And you do not know who sent the mes- - “I do not.” “Well, I do,” said the superintendent with a broad smile, ‘and 1'll let you gen- tlemen into the secret. When Miss Morgan saw, or rather beard your mistake, sie en- f © Population. deavored to convince you that you were 12 | crowd existing dwellings to death, unless danger, Dut failed. Despairing, building. She was almost wild with grief and alarm. I saw her face as she huzried down the stairs and it was the face of a mad woman. I read it wrong and returned at once to you to learn distress. I heard you call Eastcreek end ask for the special—your last messuge that day—and heard the answer, ‘gone,’ und saw you fall. But the frail woman whom you turned away, did ndt fail. While you fell fainting among the inkstands and fi:<tru- ments she rushed into the hutel over the way, and finding no one in the Western Union office, tcok the key and began call- ing Westcreek. She could not see the clock as you did, and she called and called, an when at last the operator answered she told him to hoid No. 8.” “No. is gone,” said the operator. “Hold ner,” zaid the wire back at him, and fearing the operator might question the message she sent your initials at the end of the order. “Brave girl!” cried the president, rising and beginning to pace the floor, for he was deeply affected by the story of how a young woman who but a day before had been refused employment by the company, had contrived to save the company’s prop- erty and the lives of men whom she had { not known. “She shall have the company’s | check for a thousand,” the president add- You will furnish her with transporta- he continued addressing, the Sea intendent, “and have het report to me at the Boston office the first of the year. “Miss Morgan reports to the trainmas- ter,” said the superintendent smiling and waving @ hand toward Goodlough, who sat pale and silent like a man who had just re- ceived a hard fall. “Miss Morgan will not be in the com- pany’s employ after today,” he said, look- ing steadily at the president. “Has she been dismissed? “She fas been promoted, and is to take her new place on New Year day.” “May I ask what office she is to take?” inquired the president, glancing from the trainmaster to the superintendent,who was still smiling. F “She ts to be Mrs. Goodlough,” said the trainmaster, with a stern, calm face. “Accept my congratulations,” said the president, holding out his hand. “This is the second time, then, she has saved your Ufe,”" he continued as Goodlough took his hand; “‘and I hope you will allow her to accept my personal check for another thou- sand, for she saved mine as well. eee eae se Gocdlough was greatiy affected by the news of MissMorgan’s heroism,and the con- duct of the president and superintendent of the road. He kept clear of the dispatch- er’s office that day, for he dared not trust himself in her presence. That evening. when Minnie’s mother had retired to her room, and the lovers were left alone together in the little lamp-lit parlor, they looked at each other in silence for a moment. ‘ “What distregses you?” asked Miss Mor- gan. “And you?” inquired, the trainmaster. “Order No. 76,” was her reply. “I’ve lost my place.” “And found a friena, a lover, aye, a hus- band and happiness,.I hope.’” “And what have you found?” “Phe sender of the mysterious message, said Goodlough, advancing to where his sweetheart sat. “Did he tell you?” es. How shall I repay you for all that you have done for me?” “By pardoning me for forging your name to the message, and becoming cheerful and shortening your office hours, and—well, if anything more occurs to me I'll tell you later.” Bis you did send the message?” “Yes.” “And how about the flowers that came to the hospital every day? The roses, whose breath called me back to life?” “Yes," she said, and the little hand stole into his and nestled there. And then they talked on for just a little while. She forgot that she was out of employment, and he forgot the lap order of a year ago. The lamp burned low. He lighted a match to look at his watch, and it was nelther yesterday nor tomorrow, but just between; and then as all telegraphers do at the end of the day, she gave him “good-night,” and he went away. Hawaill’s Commerce. From the Honclulu Advertiser. It has been the boast of the people of Lahaina that in days gone by as many as 200 sails have been seen in the bay there at one time. This was when whalers made this their headquarters, and Lahaina was the capital. Honolulu residents remember when the ‘bay was dotted with merchant marine, and they remember, too, during the past few years, when the harbor has been practically without a sail. During the past year the shipping in Hon- olulu has increased to a wonderful degree, and to the old-timers along the water front it is an indication of a revival of the days when Honolulu was considered a beon to shipping masters. During the past weex there have been three steamers flying the Japanese flag, in port at one time, —S with this 4t may be noted that within two days seven foreign steamers arrived in port. No better evidence of the commercial im- There are in port at this time thirty ves- moors being pooae ‘Oly betwi 4 rity ve een Pacific coast and — most of them being vessels which have been running in this trade at intervals, when the business warranted it for years past. - + 0+ ____ ‘That Explained It. From the St. Louls Post-Dispatch. #8 dy sper #2 qlee The cause of her | 0Ver the billions of dollars’ worth of prop- a | the community—abouz £ cook it, and with a certair amount of tex- tile fabrics or furs and with some boards to put over his head. The world as a whole is always within about one year of starvation, within two or three years of becoming naked, and witbin a very few years of becoming house- Jess. In this country nearly 2,600,000 hu- man beings are add>d every year to our That number would soon in each year about a half million of men were occupied in adding to the number of dwellings already existing. We call ourselves very rich. We gloat erty disclosed ty the figures of the cen- sus. In 1890 the computation reached the huge sum of over $i5,000,000,000. Only think of it! How rich we are! But wha: does {t all come to? About one-ihird of this valuation is the estimated value of the land on which capital has been placed. Land ts our endowmeat, not cur creativn. lf we, deduct a reasonable sum for land valuation, what is ieft is the capital of 900,600,000, This is an estimate in dollars of what we have saved end put to purposes of enjoyment or future use im more than a century of ex- istence es a nation. Again. this is a stu- pendous sum. What does it amount to? If the value in money of all that we con- sumed—foed, fuel, shelter and clothing: in the census year, figured at retail prices, was equal to 50 cents a day per person,then the product of the census year rcacned a valvation in terms of money, in round fig- ures, of $11,500,000,000. 2 In other words, in a little over a cen- tury of existence as a nation, and in less than a century of union under a constitu- tion, we have succeeded in saving pro- ducts of human labor in the form of pub- le buildings, warehouses, workshops, fac- tories, railways, vessels, dwellings, tools, machinery and goods and wares on the way from the producer to the actual con- sumer to the amount of a little over $700 worth per head. We consume every year | nearly a third as much as this measure of all our savings. Not o From the Youth's Companion. In a certain New England town there once lived 2 wealthy but illiterate man, who owned many sailing vessels and fol- lowed their course over the seas by the aid of an enormous atlas. A neighbor who stopped on one occasion to see him on a matter of business was ushered into the li- brary. where he found the ship-owner, with his spectacles astride his nose, por- ing cver the atlas, which was spread open on the table before him. “I'm glad you've come in,” said he, rising to grasp his guest’s hand cordially, “for there's a little point you may be able to help me about. I've just had a letter from one of my cuptaips, and he tells me that he’s been in a storm and didn’t know but the vessel would go to pieces. “He's u well-educated man, and he uses first-rate language,” said the ship-owner, proudly. “I'll just read you out the passage from his letter that puzzles me. He says, ‘The waves rose like mountains and the storm raged about us, while nothing but the vivid lightning broke the pitchy gloom. But although death seemed likely to be our portion, We were saved; driven before the wird ard put into great Jeopardy, but still here I am, pen in hand.’ “Now, what I want to know is,” said the ship-owner, as he refolded the sheet from which he -had read the precious extract 2nd placed it carefully in his wallet, “what I want to know is, where is Great Jeop- ardy? I know il’s somewhere on the Med- iterraneen, but I can’t seem to find it on this pesky map anywhere.” hte SEA Queer California Soll. From the San Francisco Call. The oil resources of California are being carefully investigated by the state mining bureau, which looks for a great develop- ment some day of the oil industry along | the slopes of the coast range from San | Francisco southward almost to the Mexi- can border line. The recent extensive ex- plorations made in the southern part of the state by W. L. Watts of the mining bureau formed the subject of an interesting pop- ular lecture given last night before the | Academy of Sciences. ‘The discourse was made additionally en- tertaining by a stereopticon display of views of the oll wells, bituminous deposits ard petroleum-bearing regions visited by the lecturer. One of the views showed an asphaltum flow in which were sticks and stones snd bones of animals. Sometimes, the lecturer explained, cattle lie down in the asphattum when it is warm; they never get up again. At other times, on warm days, cows at- | tempt to walk through the soft black stuff, | but they stay in it until they are rescued or until they die. SAVED BY A WOMAN. A Detective's Story of His Experience Among the Mollie Maguires. From the Detroit Froe Press. “You all remember the reign of terror for which the “Moilies’ down in the mining re- gions of Pennsylvania were responsible?’ mused the detective who always smokes a well-seasoned dudeen in preference to a cigar. “I was with the Pinkertons then, and @ young hand at the business, but they thought well enough of me to send me among those Dloodthirsty villains as sistant to a sharp old veteran of the serv ice. There was never a tougher organ- ization on earth than those same Mollies, and I was just foolish enough to rejoice at having a chance among them. “My part to mingle with the men, drink at the same bars, fight when the Tough code of the Mollies required a fight, get the reputation of a bad one and work my way into the society. I did it and be- came a full-fledyed member of the merci- less gang. At last I was selected wi others to kill a mine foreman who fused to comply with a demand made by the society. I got enough whisky into the men to put them to sleep, warned the fore man, and then reported to the members of my branch that our proposed victim did not put in an appearance at our vsua haunts. “That night the wife of the bog cabin hotel and saloon keeper where I made heaquarters gave me a whispered warning: in return for those little courtesies whicli a woman appreciates, no matter what her station in life. I was suspected of treach- ery and was to be put out of the wa: As I stole from the shanty that night a man sneaked behind me with a knife and that woman laid him out with a bung-starter just as he was about to make the lun, We fied together. I never knew till we got into court that she was hired on the job just as I was. Then we went into parthership.” see - A BELLE AT EIGHTY. Had a Lovely Neck and Arms and Wore Decolicte Gowns. From the New York Lodger. Scme years ago thers was an old lady j in one of the southern capitals who not ovly wore decoliete ball dresses at eighty, but actually possessed the lovely neck and arms which they require. She was most innocently vain, and no wonder, for she was immensely flattered, and her townspeople valued her charms far above those of her young and more beautiful rivals. She had a curious way of prepar- ing for a ball, which our modern fashion- able women with their multitudinous en- gagements would find difficult to emulate. The morning before she proposed appear- ing in full regalia she would take a brisk walk, and return in time for a midday dinner, after which she remained qniet with her work until about 3 or 4 o'clock, when she would retire to her bed (pertak- ing of some light refreshment at the tea hour), until it was time to dress for her ball. Then she would cet up, take a bath and make the most elaborate toilet. All the houschold regarded these preparations in the light of solemn rites, and would never have dreamed of Inughing at them in any way. Her appearance was a triumph, never failing to excite the great- est admiration and adulation. es The Star Boarder, From the Cleveland Ueader. The Sedate Man—‘“I'm afraid you are about to be dethroned.” The Star Boarder- The Sedate Man— eggs on toast this morning and I noticed that you had to eat hash with the rest of The Star Boarder—“Hush! Don't give it away. Bingle has just paid up, after being behind for two months. If you want to fare well stop paying in advance for awhile and when you settle they'll treat you like a king.” ee Easily Gaaged. From the Cincinnati Eaquirer. “Johnny,” said the farmer, “go down in the cellar and draw a pitcher of that sweet cider. Take a candie with you.” “Don't need no candle,” said Johnny. “Ah, my little man,” said the minister, who was staying over night, “you must have quite an accurate judgment to have filled the pitcher in the dark without run- ning it over.” “Aw,” said Johnny, “it ain't no trick at all. When it got up to the first joint o my thumb I stopped.” ELE ca ee Nipped in the Bud. From the Indianapolis Journal. “Did you ever have a dream make you tired?” began the “gabby boarder,” as the other bearders called him. “I bave when other persons told them,” said the severe boarder, and naught wes heard but the gritting of the juvenile board- er’s spoon in the sand at the bottom of his saucer of stewed currants. HEREDITY.