Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 August 1887 — THE 10:15 EXPRESS. [ARTICLE]

THE 10:15 EXPRESS.

Chisago Inter Ocean. Outside the wind was moaning dismally, and the rain beating steadily against the window panes, but within *ll Was bright and cozy, though of a rude description. I settled down in my easy . chair before the fire and proceeded to enjoy to the full the following letter from the sweetest little maiden on earth. It began—well, no matter how; that is important only to myself, as are also the two following pages. Then it read: “Horace Snydam came to see me Thursday evening and asked me to marry him. I was so surprised and frightened at first that I could not answer him, but I final.y managed to tell him that I was already engaged to you, at which he went on like a crazy man. He said that if you had not come to Newton that I would have married him; but it isn’t so, Tom, dear. I would never have done so. I was always afraid of him,he is so fi< ry and desperate. He vowed that he would kill you at the first opportunity, and I have been in an agony of fear for ybu ever since. I know he meansto harm yon, and J really think he is crazy; you know several of bis peopl. have been queer, and one died in the lunatic asylum. I do wish they would pat him there. I miss you so much, and yet dread seeing you return to N., for fear that he will carry out Ids threats. Do be careful dear Tom, for my sake." And here the letter branched off into matters of no moment to the general public, but very satisfactory to me. After reading I placed it on the table and lay back in my chair to consider its contents. I was very tired, the room was very warm.and I bad eaten a lit arty dinner, with a bottle of wine to finish off on. I was somewhat drowsy, and was just dropping into a doze when I felt my arms seized and held as though in a vise, while some one forced a gag into my mouth and placed a bandage over my eyes. It was all done in a flash before I cculd collect my senses. Then the window was opened and I was lowered to the ground. The cold wind chilled me through, the rain beat upon me fiercely, but my mind was in such a tumult that the war of the elements made but little impression upon me Soon I hsard foot-falls on the gravel walk, and then I was lifted and borne quickly along and dumped into a wagon.

My captors, after a short parley in a low tone, jumped in and drove rapidly away. The drive was of not more than ten minutes’ duration. The wagon stopped, I was -hauled out and carried along over what seemed to be a very rough road, judging from the way the men stumbled. They halted and put me down, then one of them went away without a word; the other bent over me and said: “I guess you’ll steal another fellow’s girl away again, my fine popinjay. ;I ould kill you if I would, but I'll just leave you here to do that for yourself. You are on the railroad bridge over Smithson’s Gulch, and the express is due in five minutes. You are not very far from the end of the bridge. I will untie your feet and stand you up. If you walk in the right direction you can easily reach the end of 'the bridge, but you’ll have to walk straight. If you swerve to either side down you go to the bottom of the gulch, dashed to pieces, and if you walk in the wrong direction you’ll meet the trwn and be killed by it. You must take th enhances.” He raised me to my feet and unloosed them. With a scornful laugh he left me to my doom, sayings ‘TH give your love to Bessie, never fear!” ' Imagine my sensations if you can. Gagged, blindfolded,with my hands tied, on a railroad bridge over a chasm hundreds of feet deep. My mind was a chaos of conflicting emotions. Hate and rage against Horace Bnydam,whom I knew to be my captor, fear for my life, and, above all, love for Bessie, and a wild desire to save her from that villain. If I could only free my hands; but that wm impossible. I essayed to walk, but niy brain reeled. It would be madness to try, when a few steps might bring me to the edge of the

track and I would plunge into eternity. There wap but one way. I would sit down and try to work my way along, taking my chances of going in the. right direction. It was slow work; and the perspiration streamed from every pore, though the chill of death was upon me. I had gone but a littlte way when the shrill whistle of the locomotive broke upon my ear, and every second its rumble became more distinct. I strained every nerve to determine the direction of the sound. , Merciful heaven! I had moved toward the train. My doom was sealed. My mind was made up in an instant. I would not be crushed by the engine. The chasm was preferable to that; the choice of deaths, at least, was mine. I worked my way to the edge of the track and there sat, with my feet hanging over, and waited for the train. ’Tis said that in times of extreme peril thought moves with lightning-like rapidity. But I know that my sole thought then was to escape from that rushing demon. Nearer and nearer it came. I felt the bridge tremble as tfae train thundered upon it. I flung myself forward—and fell. Fell! It seemed as if I was falling for hours. I stopped suddenly, with a shock, and heard demoniacal laughter. I moved; my arms were free. What did it mean? Had fl*e fall killed me, and was I in another world? Again that laugh! I opened my eyes. Great Casar! What did it mean? I .was in my room at the inn, everything was as usual, only at the table sat Ned Brewster shaking with laughter:— “Well, I swear, Tom,” said he, “I’m glad I don’t room with you-” “What do you mean?” I asked in a dazed way. “Why, I arrived here about 0:30, and after my supper, I came up here to your room; getting no answer to my knocking I walked in. You were fast asleep, and snoring so peacefully that I sat downtb a pipe and your magazine- After a little you got up and walked across the room; by aid of a chair you elimbed up on that beam that stretches overhead, and began working your way along it. There was a pretty lively thunderstorm outside, and just as there came a terrific clap you took a header, and landed on the floor. Do you often take that kind of exercise, Tommy?” “No,” said I, “just help me into that chair, and give me a nip out of the flask, and I’ll explain,” and much to his amusement I told him my experiences of the evening, after which, as we were both too tired to talk business, we went to bed, where fortunately, I remained in peace until morning, being no worse after my adventure, except that f felt stiff and lame. A few days after I read in the papers that two men, one of whom was known to be Horace Snydam, the other unknown, were blown from the platform of a car while it was crossing Smithson’s Gulch. It was the 10:15 express on the night of the 19th. Strange, wasn’t it? I have always wondered who that other man was. ■

A Warm Fall in Prospect. N. Y. World. Because the summer is hot is no reason the fall shouldn’t be hotter. If competition is the life of politics there will be some uncommonly lively politics on exhibition by the middle of October or sooner. There will be two and perhaps three Labor parties hunting for votes and bent on hacking up their more aged brethren, the Republicans and the Democrats. The Prohibitionists, proud of their great gains in the North and the great awakening in th 6 South, will be braced up foranother Griaco-Roman tussle with rum, moderation, and Republicanism. Those hopeful brethren in unity, the Republicans, will chant Harmony, Heavenly Harmony, while their razors go flying through the air. The Democrats can do their work qujetly, and have a deal of fun watching the contortions of Brother Cleveland if he keeps On trying the trick of riding two horses in two directions at once. Or, if Brother Cleveland has got off his high horse there will be the joy of watehing the Mugwumps in their frantic efforts to show that the two lines ip the following diagram are parallel: A •4. A—Cleveland. , B B—Chinese Reform. If there isn’t as much fun in New York ere the trees grow bald again as has been seen since Noth burgessed the Ark, it will not be because materials for good fun are wanting.

A Bowlder Inside a Tree. Frisco Alta. J. E. Hassler, of Placeiville, was cutting a two-foot oak tree when the saw was ruined by striking something hard. Investigation showed a large granite bowlder in the center of the tree, without any marks to show- how it came there. The' tree was perfect in every other respect. The bowlder was found in the trunk, about twelve feet from the ground, and six feet below a branch. A Proud Position. .■ —Fond Father—“ Talk of college not fitting a young man for earning a living. Just as soon as Johnny graduated he obtained a splendid position.** Friend —“What was it?” Fond Father—" First base.”