Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 171, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 July 1911 — RIDES TO TOWN IN CABOOSE [ARTICLE]

RIDES TO TOWN IN CABOOSE

Mr. Morgan Stops Long Freight Traits so Bishop Could Keep an Engagement.

Bishop Potter was spending a Sunday afternoon with Mr. Morgan at the latter’s country place at Highland Falls. The village of Highland Falls is a way station on the West Shore road, a few miles below West Point, and the fast trains pass it Without a stop on their first long-jump away from New York. This is not a matter of much concern to the financier, who always goes back and forth-’on his yacht; but on this occasion it troubled the bishop. He was loath to travel on Sunday, but. he had an important engagement to keep in the city that night, and he remarked that he would have to take a local train, which left a little while before supper. "Oh, no,” said Morgan, “there’s a train after that one. Of course, you’ll stay to supper.” “I don’t see any train,” objected the bishop, "and I really must get to town in time to conduct an evening service." “There’s an express,” replied hie host, disposing of the matter—“l’ll have it stopped for you.” An hour or so later, in the thickdarkness of an autumn evening, Mr. Morgan took the bishop in his riage down the steep road to the rail-’ road station. No lights shone trona the building. The coachman got out and tried the door and rattled it. Then he came back and reported that the agent had gone home for th* night The sound of an approaching train was heard, faintly, but growing louder. "Break in the door," ordered Morgan, impatiently—"get a big stone and smash it!” He and his visitor got out of the carriage and looked on; finally the door gave way. Morgan went inside, and after scratching a number of matches, found a lantern and lit it “All right bishop!” he called cheerfully, “come ahead,” and he walked*, out to the middle of the track and waved the light With a horrid screeching and: squeaking the train stopped. It wasa freight; a very long freight lOnt of the cab leaned the surprised engineer, and from the caboose somewhere in the faraway darkness theconductor came running up, very angry. "What do you mean by stoppings this train?” he demanded fiercely. Mr. Morgan, still holding the lantern, told him who he whs. j. “I don’t care a whoop-in-blazes who you are (the conductor’s language here becomes so unprintable), you’ve got no business—why,” he choked, '"there’s an express train followin’ us. —you’ll have a collision—"—but Mr. Morgan paid no more attention to bin* or his remarks. "All right, bishop." he was saying gently, “you get right in the caboose and ride to New York." Which the bishop did.—Metropolitan Magazine.