Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 May 1888 — THE SWITCHTENDER. [ARTICLE]

THE SWITCHTENDER.

Ch lea go I n U r- Ocean. A little white house seems asleep among the blossoming apple trees. It is early morning, and all is light and freshness. The door opens, a man appears Sit the threshold, a smile on Ips sane and an expectant look in his eyes. There is a movement behind the trunk of an apple tree. Tin* man's smile grows broader, and from the tree, like a dryad, rushes a charming little 1 flaxen-haired girl, who throws herself, with a hurst of laughter, into his arms. “May 1 take the little one, Celine?” said the father. At these weirds a lovely blonde made her appearance. “Again?” she said, with a shade of annoyance. “Oh! we share her very fairly." said the man, with the kindest and most paternal smile. 'Tf you knew,” he resumed, “how quickly the hours pass when she is down there with me.” “Don’t you think I know, w hen I find them so long in her absence?” It was embarrassing. Aimee herself began to be troubled by this conversation, and feeling that she could not please both these beings that she loved so much, she was ready to cry. Celine saw it at once and yielded. “Take her, ljuirence. I would rather have her'go than feet badly about it.” The father at these words showed some feeling. . ■ ■ ■ “So," sail! he, in his turn, “keep her. You love her best.” And the discussion began again, but it

was this time a straggle of generosity. At last the husband took his darling in his arms, and a smile reappeared on the child’slips. Celine looked longingly after them, and re-entered the house. One mornjng, without saying anything toCeline, Laurence took the little girl’s hand to lead her away, when her mother suddenly appeared . “What!” she said. “You would take her without telling me?” “Don’t think that,” said Laurence, in some confusion. "We were in fun -we were going to hide behind the trees and see you look for us.” “Oh!” said Celine doubtfully. “Listen, Laurenee,” she continued. “Aimee grows more restless and troublesome every day. It is dangerous to let her go with you.” “What do you mean?” said the man turning pale.

"1 mean that 1 am afraid of your railroad. with its trains and locomotives.” "You tire very foolish:” "Leave her here. 1 can hardlybreathe whiieuiv little girl is dowif tjiere. It is frightful to think of, but she might get away and be killed.” ‘‘Don't talk so. Celine.” “She might run away while you are at the switch, and if you left it to look after her you would fail in your duty, and might la' the cause of a dreadful disaster.,, ' “Oh, Celine. I beg of you don’t!” cried" Laurence, who shuddered at the idea. The young woman did not insist. The The switch-tender gradually recovered himself. “My poor Aimee!” he cried, embracing the child frantically. “It is too bad, Celine, it is a shame to frighten me so.”

Celine smiled, ami the conversation ended as usual, with these words from Laurence: “You will come for her at noon.” Little bv little their terrors faded reas<,ined with, himself. “The child,’’ he said, “is familiar with the passage of the trains, it is true, but sire is old enough to comprehend the danger.’’ And his apprehensions gradually vanished. • One evening, however, when he went home he found he had been preceded by the rumor of an accident which had occurred at a neighboring station. A hrakeman had been crushed by aa express train. Celine questioned her husband while they were at supper. “Is it true that Simon is killed?” she asked. “No," replied Laurence; “he was in great danger, but he escaj>ed, thanks to his wonderful coolness." ■ “Then he is not dead? said Celine. “No: and yot '-the whble tra:n went over him. When Simon saw it was too late to save himself, he laid flat down ’iu the middle of the traek, and when the train had passed bv he gorup again safe and sound. I saw him, and 1 nskmLhwtrhow.it made him feel. At first, he said. —when the engine went over hirn.~he ~ wtjt ven T warm, after that the time seemed long. That was all. You know fcimon go to work again,” added Lauience,tranquilly. But Celine’s anxieties were aroused afresh.

Sometime after that the hours of service wore changed and took the night section. He could no longer think of taking Aidiee with him. One evening, however, a poor woman in the ullage was taken very ill. The doctor who came wrote a prescription and said to the neigldiorshe found there: “These medicines can only bo found in tow n, and you must not w ait for them. Let one of you go to the railway station w here there is a portable pharmacy, and ask the station master on my account for ,a little laudanum. That will quiet the painstHlymr can have the -prescriptions. Which of you w ill go?”* “Celine! Celine!” saiiKsevcral voices. It was certain that the station master would not hesitate tt/givo her the tuedi’TTtte. The voting woman thought at first of leaving Aimee, hut*as she had been particularly restless all day, Celine (concluded to take lien They had to pass hv Laurence’s post to goto the station. He saw them coming, and as soon as they were within hearing began to question them. “Old Gertrude is very ill, and I am going to the station for medicine.” “That’s right. But let me have Aimee; I will keep her till you come hack.” "Celine lifted the little girl over the fence t< > her father, who took the precious burden in his arms and returned with her to his box, before which a lamp was burning. All around darkness covered the tracks, which crossed each other in

every direction. It would not take Celine more than twenty minutes to get to the station and back. The child was in one of her most frolicsome moods; she ran suddenly into the garden; laiurence ran laughing after her. “You can’t catch me,” said she. "Yes, I can.” But the little witch evaded Laurence’s pursuit, leaving laughter bellind her. "Here, here!” she said, and rushed to the track and began to-cross it. —, —— “Don’t go there, darling,” said her father. It was very dark —the switchtender >ould hardly see his daughter. “You can’t catch me,” repeated .the child. “Come, come here,” said her father. “Look for me,” answered the child, “Aimee, Aimee, don't play any more. I shall he angry. Come here."

“Oh! you say that because von can’t catch me!” “Come back, L r wiil give you a cake.— “That isn’t true; you haven’t one. You want to make me come back.” “Yes, I don’t want you to stay there. The express train is coming: Be quick.” "(>h! I shan't let you catch me. The train has gone by.” “There is another.” - Instead of replying, the —child said, “Run after me. papa; run.” Laurence saw there was nothing.to lie done but to run after her. and take her out of danger. He rushed toward the place where he heard her voice. It was dark, and Aimee escaped him still. His alarm increased. At any instant the whistle of the on-coming train might be heard, and lautrence redoubled his appeals. His voice was hoarse with fright, The fatal moment approached, and still the child laughed and repeated: “You can’t catch me." Now the whistle sounded. The lugubrious call paralyzed the poor man, and he lost his head .eompletolv. The train would have two vic-

thus if he did not regain his composure. Two victims! It would be a catastrophe with incalculable consequences; for a train was stopping at the station a little Way ahead, and.if the express, was not switched off there must inevitably be a collision. Lahrence shook off his torpor. “Aituee!” he cried, in 'thundering tones. “Here, papa,.” And the child continued to give sharp littlo'eajlls,* which mingled with the rear of the approaching. The instinct of duty, rather than will, urged Laurence toward the switch. He seized the instrument which ought to turn the. train. “No,” he cried, must save her. Aimee, Aimee! where are you?” and his eves sought to pierce the darkness. The' switch-tender, with hair on end, thought of throwing himself before the iron monster; • But one chance remained, that Aimee was not oh the track over which the train must pass; He looked again, and this time he saw her—he saw her. She was there, standing on the very track the train must take if he altered the switch, If the iron tempest did not take its true course the child was saved. The train would go on to crash against the one at the station. What matter? Aipiee would ’ be alive! All this went through his mind like lightning. There would be the killed and wounded —twenty families in despair, but Aimee would be safe and sound. There would lie an inquest; he would be condemned to prison, dishonored, ruined! But his daughter; his Aimee, would live and be happy. Ah', how quickly one can think in such terrible moments' . - . •

The train came thundering on, but -it could not be seen on account of a sharp curve in the road. There was still time to save Aimee, but the child would not TtifT It seemed to her lather that she waited for the train with unfair of dell tilled ‘ : “Aimee,” he repeated, in a voice strangled by fear, “Aimee, come here; Vim will kill me.” . —Suddenly the advancing lightsof the engine appeared: The train .was upon him. It was ’ here. The man felt his whole being shaken. He was bewilder-

ed, could sec nothing. Thought did Dot stop,' however, but .traveled faster than the train. He recalled in a second his honorable .soldier’s life, when he had sacrificed everything for duty. He saw in the station the frightful accident he would have caused, and heard the cries otthe wounded, the last gasp of the dying. The problem was l>efore him. His His daughter, or others? . There was ho alternative, without. With astonishing promptitude the sentiment of duty became most powerful, and he seized mechanically the handle of the bar of 'mmr The stoical AdcUe* at this moment was uppermost, and effaced the father? He pushed, hardly knowing what he did. and the express train crossed the switch. On, oh it went, and he could see it passIhg before the station, going by as If if were happy to escape a danger, and disappearing in the darkness. Duty had been strongest. Stupified, staggered, speechless. Laurence was rooted to the spot, holding still the cursed handle which had helped to kill his child. “Now,” lie said. “It is-niy turn to die." The other train was about to pass, lie stepped forward, crossed his arms, and awaited it. - The whistle sounded, the heavy engine puffed. Bewildered, thinking of nothing, there he stood. But at that instant a burst of laughter sounded behind him, lie turned, wild with hope. —'■ -. _ . - “Oh! naughty papa; he won’t play with Aimee,” said the most beloved of voices. The child was clinging to him. Laurence did not seek to know how the child came there alive. He seized her, and fled with his treasure into his little cabin. Then he put her on the ground before the light and looked at her. lie could not bear so much jov, and fell fainting beside his daughter, who in her turn' screamed with terror. At this moment Celine arrived. She.. heard Aimee’s voice' and hastened her steps. Then becoming impatient, she called, “Aimee!”" The child rau, .to meet her, crying. Mamma, _mamma, I am frightened!” “What is the matter?” “Papa has fallen down.” Celine rushed toward the sentry-box and found lier husband completely insensible stretched on on the ground. She sent for help, and the doctor, who had not left the village, came and restored the poor man to consciousness. The next day when Laurence rose his wife looked at him with terror. Instead of his.former hright color he exhibited a corpse-like pallor, which never left liim to the end of his days. Laurence was forced to tell his wife all. . When he had finished the poor father -turnedto Aimee ami said, “But, darling, why weren’t yoti killed?” “Why,” said the child, “I did what Simon did.”