Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 October 1900 — ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS

A DBEAM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. By Bev. OHABLEB M. SHELDON. iMthor of “In Bia Steps," “The Crucifixion cf PhOtp Strom,” “Malcom Kiris,” Etc. Copyright, MOO, by Advance Publishing Ou.] out i want you to promise me that you will not touch another glass of liquor or handle another card as long as you live.” George laughed a little uneasily and then lied outright: “I don’t see the harm of game once in awhile just for fun. I don't play for stakes, as some fellows do.” "George,” said his father, looking at him steadily, “you have not told the truth. You were gambling only a few nights ago. It is useless for you to deny it. That is where the very liberal allowance I have given you has been squandered.” George turned deathly pale and sat with bowed head while his father went on almost sternly: "Consider your mother, George, whose heart almost broke when yop came In last night. I don't ask you to consider me. I have not been to you yvhat.a father ought to oe. nut Ir you love your mother ano sisters and have any self respect left you will let drink and cards alone after this. In the sight of God, my dear boy, remember what he made you for. You are young. You have all of life before you. You can make a splendid record if God spares your life. “I would gladly give all I possess to stand where you do today and live my life over again. I can’t do it. The past is Irrevocable. But one can always repent. George, believe me, your mother would rather see you In your coffin than see you come home again as yon did last night. We love you”— Mr. Hardy, proud man that he was, could say no more. He laid his hand on the boy’s head as if he were a young lad again and said simply, "Don’t disappoint God, my boy,” and went out, leaving his son sitting there almost overcome by his father’s powerful appeal, but not yet ready to yield himself to the still small voice that spoke within even more powerfully and whispered to him: “My son, give me thine heart? Cease to do evil; learn to do well. Cleanse thy ways and folfew after righteousness.” It w r as 1 o’clock when Mr. Hardy came down stairs, and as he came into the room where Mrs. Hardy and the girls were sitting he happened to think of’some business matters between himself and his only brother, who lived in the next town, 20 miles down the road. He spoke of the matter to Mrs. Hardy, and she suggested that Will go down on the 3 o’clock train with the papers Mr. Hardy wanted to have his brother look over and come back on the 6 o’clock in time for dinner. Clara asked if she couldn’t go, too, and Bessie added her request, as she not seen her aunt for some time. Mr! Hardy saw no objection to their going, only he reminded them that he wanted them all back at 6. Alice vol-, unteered to amuse George at home while all the rest were gone, and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy departed for the funeral, Mr. Hardy’s thoughts still absorbed for the most part with his older boy. Clara bad asked no questions concerning the interview w’ith James, and her father simply stated that they could have a good talk about it in the evening. The tenement at No. 760 was crowded, and in spite of the wintry weather large numbers of men and wihnen stood outside in the snow. Mr. Hardy had ordered his sleigh, and, he and his wife had gone down to the house in that, ready to take some one to the cemetery. The simple service as it began was exceedingly impressive? to Mr. Hardy. Most of the neighbors present looked at him and his well dressed wife in sullen surprise. She noticed the looks with a heightening color, but Mr. Hardy was too much absorbed in his thoughts of what he had done and left undone in this family to be influenced by the behavior of those about him. Mr. Jones offered a prayer for the comfort of God to rest on the stricken family. He then read a few words from John’s gospel appropriate to the occasion and said a few simple words, mostly addressed to the neighbors present. The poor widow had been removed to a small room up stairs and lay there cared for by the faithful sister. The minister had nearly concluded his remarks when a voice was heard in the room above, voices expostulating in alarm and growing louder, followed by a rapid movement In the narrow hall above, and with a scream of frenzy the wife rushed down the stairs and burst into the room where the dead body of her husband lay. She had suddenly awakened out of the fainting stupor in which she had been lying since her husband's death and realized what was going on in the bouse with a quick gathering of passion and strength, such as even the dying sometimes are known to possess. She had escaped from her.slster*hnd the neighbor who were watching with her and, crtfzy with grief, flung herself over the coflin, moaning and crying out in such heartbreaking accentj that all present were for a moment flung into a state of Inaction and awe. But Mrs. Hardy was first to move .towdrd the stricken woman. Where did the .wife of the once proud man learn the -touch of sympathy that drew that, other poor sister nearer to her and finally soothed her into quietness? Certain it is that suffering in her «wn home had marvelously taught

the richly dressed woman, the refined, cultured-lady, to hold this other one to be of the same household of God with her. So it was that she finally succeeded in drawing her away into the other room and there held her, gasping for breath, now that the brief strength was spent, and crying feebly: “O God, help me! Don’t keep me here in this world any longer!” If this brief scene thrilled the neighbors with pity, what shall be said of its effect on Robert Hardy? For a moment it seemed to him more than he could bear. He started to his feet and put his hands before his face. Then, calming himself by a great effort, he sat down, and his face became almost like a stone in its rigidity. When his wife finally succeeded in getting the woman into the rear room, his face relaxed, and he breathed more easily,; but as soon as possible he arose and went out and stood silent there until the body was brought out and placed in the hearse. Then he went In and spoke a few words to his wife and told Mr. Jones that he could take four or five to the cemetery if they wished to go. Mrs. Hardy would stay with the suffering widow until he came back. Mr. Hardy plso whispered something to his minister and gave him a large roll of bills to be used for the family, then went out again. That ride in the cold gray of the declining winter afternoon was a bitter experience, to Robert. He roused himself at the grave as he heard the words, “Raise us from the death of -tn ntcfn the resurrection of righteousness," and something like a gleam or hope shot through his heart at the words. Surely there was mercy with him who had conquered death for the sake of the human race. He drove back with more peace of soul (han be had thought possible. By the time h,e had reached the shop tenements it was growing dark. He drove home with his wife and thought with something of a feeling of pleasure of the evening before him with his family. This second day had been more agitating in some ways than his first. He had been unnerved at the funeral and had felt remorse more keenly than he had once thought possible. As he reviewed the events of the day with his wife be felt dissatisfied. And yet he had. truly tried to do his duty in the light of eternity. What more could he He reit anxious about George and cold his wife of the conversation he had with him. Mrs. Hardy felt the same anxiety with her husband. After the horses were put up and the father and mother had gone into the house they continued the conversation. Alice was up stairs with George, and the other children had not come back. It was dark, but husband and wife sat by the light of the open fire and talked together until 'nearly 6 o’clock. Mr. Hardy 'had just said something about Clara, and Mrs. Hardy replied, “Isn’t it about time they were here?” when the telephone bell rang in the little office adjoining the hallway, where Mr: Hardy did some of the business of the company, being connected by wire with the shops. He went in and answered the call, and a series of sharp exclamations and questions was soon followed by his coming back into the room where his wife sat. By the light of the open Are she could see that he was very pale. His overcoat was lying on the couch where he had thrown it, as he came in. He hastily put it on ’ and then said to his wife: “Mary, there has been an accident to the 6 o’clock way train between Baldwin and here, and Burns has telephoned me to come down. Don’t be alarmed. We will hope -for the best.” Mrs. Hardy started up. “Why, Will and Bess and Clara were coming home on that train!” “Mary”—Mr. Hardy’s voice trembled, but he tried to speak calmly and in comfort—“let us hope for the best.” “Wha»t did Mr. Burns telephone? Tell me all, Robert. I can bear it with you.” “He telephoned that the train was derailed and a dozen people killed and as many Injured. I must go down the road at once. Oh, my God, spare our dear ones!” Mr. Hardy was almost overwhelmed by this last stroke, and yet he asked himself bow many accidents had occurred this last year on the road, and he had never given much thought to the suffering of those families afflicted. Now perhaps it had come to him, and, bidding his wife pray and hope, he rushed out of the house and down .to the station with the energy and rapidity of the youth who in college days had taken prizes for athletic superiority. At the yard he found a special train just ready to go to the scene of the accident. It consisted of a wrecking car, a caboose and one coach with tender and engine. He mounted the engine with a feeling that it was a little nearer the fatal spot and would reach there first At the last minute no more defi-

nite news concerning the particular persons killed and injured had been received. Mr. Hardy felt almost glad of the uncertainty as the engine pulled out and started on its run of 15 miles, soon attaining a speed of 55 miles an hour. The snow was falling in large, moist flakes. It was growing warmer and would rain before morning. He gazed at the narrow band of light on the track ahead and leaned forward as if to help the engine go faster. He did not speak, and so the train rushed through the night. And so the second of Robert Hardy’s seven days drew to a close. .CHAPTER VII. As the engine drew near the scene of the wreck a great crowd could, be seen standing about the<track. Before the train came to a sto'p. Robert Hardy leaped down from the cab and struggled forward, uttering cries of which he himself probably was not conscious. The accident had occurred upon a bridge which spanned a small river in the vicinity of Baldwin, near which town Mr. Hardy's brother lived. The engine, mail car, two day coaches and two sleepers had crashed through and, falling a distance of 50 feet, had partly broken through the ice of the frozen stream. To add to the horror of the disaster the two sleepers had caught fire, and tfipre was absolutely no means to fight ft. Mr. Hardy caught confused glimpses of men down on the ice throwing handfuls of snow upon the blazing timbers in a frantic attempt to drive back or put out the flames. He fell rather than scrambled down the steep, slippery bank of the stream, and then the full horror of the situation began to, dawn upon him. The baggage car and tender had fallen in such a way that'the trucks rested upright on the ice, and the position of the timbers was relatively that of the train before it had left the track. One day coach lay upon its side, but had broken completely in two as if some giant hand had pulled it apart, leaving the ragged ends of timbers projecting toward one another in such curious fashion that if the two ends of the car had been pushed toward the middle the splintered beams would have fitted into place almost as if made on a pattern. The other day coach had fallen upon one end, and one-third of the entire coach was under water. The other end, resting partly against the broken car, stuck up in the air like some curious, fantastic pillar or leaning tower. Mr. Hardy was conscious of all this and more as he heard the groans of the injured ana me c- j to be released from the timbers under which they had been caught. But his own children! Never had he loved them as now. The crowd of people had increased to a mob. The confusion was that of terror. Mr. Hardy rushed about the wreck searching for his children, a great throbbing at his heart as he thought of their nrobable fate, when the sweetest or ail sounds, Bessie’s dear voice, came to him, and the next minute he had caught up the child as she ran to him and strained her to his breast as in the old days when he had carried her about the house and yard. “Where are Will and Clara?” “Oh, father, they’re here, and Will wasn’t hurt much more than I was, but Clara has fainted, and she is lying down over here!” Bess dragged her father out across the ice to the edge of the bank, where a number of the victims had been laid* on the cushions of the seats, some dead, some dying. There lay Clara very white and still, with Will bending over her, himself bleeding from several wounds about the head and hands, but still conscious and trying to restore his sister. Mr. Hardy kneeled down in the snow by his son’s side, and Will, seeing him there, was not surprised, but he sobbed excitedly, “Oh, she is dead!” “No,” replied her father; “she is not.” | Clara stirred, and her lips ipoved, I but she did not open her eyes, and then her father noticed that a strange mark lay over her face. How' Mr. Hardy succeeded fn carrying the girl to the top of the bank;, how he left her there in the care of brave hearted women while he went down into that hell’s pit to rescue victims imprisoned and groaning for help; how Bess related the accident of the night and tried to explain how she was not hurt except a scratch or two, because she fell between two car seat cushions that were jammed around her and protected her from Injury; how the excitement grew as it was discovered that the dead and dying wauld number more than 75 Instead of 10 or 12, as Burns had telephoned; how finally Robert Hardy and Will and Bess and Clara, with other victims, were taken back to Barton, where a great crowd of anxious, pale faced people w r as surging through the station and over the track; how James Caxton was first.to board the train down by the shops- at the risk of his neck as in the rainy darkness he swung himself on the dead ; run up to the platform of the-coach; ■ how Mrs. Hardy met her children and husband; how there was sorrow in many a home in Barton that night and 1 for many days to come; bow Mr. Hardy finally, a little after midnight, entirely exhausted by the events of the day and night, fell asleep and dreamed the scene all over again—all this and a great deal more might be of interest concerning one of the most remarkable railroad accidents that> ever occurred in this country, but would be out of place in tills narrative. For it is all true, exactly and literally, only the Metalled horrors pf it no.pen can describe, no words can tell. i Mr. Hardy -woke about 8 o’clock rested, but feeling very lame and sore from his pxertions of His first-thought was of Clara. When he. went to sleep, the girl seemed -to be resting without pain, only that* strange mark across her face mr.de them, all

anxious. It was not a bruise, but It lay like a brand across the eyes, which had not opened since her father found her lying by the frozen stream. James had insisted on staying in the house to be of service, and Mrs. Hardy had felt grateful for his presence as she watched for returning consciousness from Clara,, who still gave no more sign of animation, although she breathed easily and seemed to be free from pain. Every, doctor and surgeon in town had been summoned to the scene of the accident. But Mr. Hardy felt so anxious for Clara as be came in and looked at her that he went down stairs and asked James if he wouldn’t run out and see if any of the doctors had returned. Ito bx cowtixued.*

O God, help me! Don't keep me here in this world and longer!"