Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 December 1882 — The Train Robber. [ARTICLE]

The Train Robber.

On the train the other dav the train boy laid a copy of the “Life of Frank and Jesse James” in my lap. I asked him if it was a sort of dime novel. “Oh, no,,’ said he. “It costs sixty cents.” “Then it is a sort of six dime novel?” I suggested, with rising inflection. “Well, yes,” he replied, apparently not knowing what I was driving at. After a moment’s silence, he said: “Some folks think Jesse James ought not to have been shot in the back. I think he ought to have been hung up and skinned.” “Yes,” I interposed; “you train boys are always in for skinning somebody.” Again he seemed to fail to see the point. Pretty soon he came along with some villainous cigars, such as dealers blush to charge five cents apiece for. I bought one for fifteen cents and lighted it. The train-boy sat on the arm of my seat and said: “No, sir, I don’t like Jesse Barnes.” “Sort of a competitor of your’s, eh ?” I asked. » “What?” “He was a competitor of your’s in business, wasn’t he ?” “Why, don’t you know who Jesse James was ? —He was the great train robber,” he said innocently. I puffed a volume of stifling smoke in his face and said, “Was he?” Presently my new acquaintance came along with some little boxes of figs—five figs for fifteen cents. “Jesse James was a train robber, w*as he?” I asked. “Yes, I thought everybody kuew that,” he replied and passed on, laughing at my ignorance. Then he brought some apples—little hard apples that grocers sell at eight cents a peck. ■‘How much?” “Three for ten cents.” “How did Jesse use to rob trains?” “Why, he put a pistol against a passenger’s head and made him shell out.” “Ah! carried a pistol, did he ?” “You bet he did,” said the train boy, and on he went, announcing choice eating apples. The next trip through the car was for the purpose of disposing of some oranges. “Sweet Florida oranges!” “How much?” “Three for a quarter.” “What train did Jesse run on?” “Any one that happened along. He most always picked his train when there were a good many passengers.” I looked around and saw there were few persons in our coach and I felt easier. Soon the train boy came in with some prize packages. “Are you sure Jesse James is dead?” I asked. “Of course he’s dead. Bob Ford fixed him. By the way, a life of the Ford brothers would sell by the million right now.” “And do you think the revolver will be discarded altogether in train robberies now ?” “Eh?” “Do you think your business will henceforth be conducted without the revolver ?” “I don’t know what you mean,” said the perplexed train-boy. “Well, I mean to ask if the good old days when a man like Jesse James used to come ip, place a revolver against a passenger’s head, take his money and valuables and go away leaving him to rfde in peace the rest of his journey—I say I mean to ask if those good old days* are gone?” “I reckon they’re about played out,” said the triumphant rival. I wept.— Aurora News. *■ Nothing annoys the keeper of a railroad restaurant more than to have one customer ask in a rather loud tone of another : “Have you ever tried plating war-ships with this kind of sandwiches?”