“Bill” the Engineer.“All ’board!” “Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!”And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof,And snorts from his chest his breath of steam,With a quickening pulse and warning scream,Moves out[309]with his freight of human lives—A sinuous[310]chain of humming hives.Anon the hum is a rattling din,As the bright steel arms fly out and in,Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,Whose writhing folds envelope all.“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;“We must rush this grade and the bottom clearWith a monstrous bulge, to pull up hillT’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”And the coal went in and the throttle out.“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.Adown the grade with open throttleThey swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—Weaving in streaks of green and gray,The warp and woof of bush and clay,While steam and smoke and dust behindForm mottled clouds in the tortured wind.Through the cut[313]and into the vale—Across the trestle that spans the swale;There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.* * * * *Beyond the curve this side the hill,There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.Just round[316]the curve in the shady woodThat fringes the creek, his low hut stood,Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,With a lovely child and a loving wife.Naught now came their peace to marWorse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;For Jemmie had watched from year to year—And more than once did his vigil saveA train and its lives from a watery grave;Since broken in purse and form at the millHe worked on crutches—a good watch still!* * * * *“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s earLeans to the sound; then a mortal fearFreezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutchWhere Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—The wilting flowers across her breast;She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;The mother sprang like a startled deer,But the rushing train[324]was now too near—She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriekThat echoed afar o’er the winding creek;Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]And smote on the ear of the engineer;“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,Treading his thrills o’er the roaring firesWith his nerves strung tense as electric wires.Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;The baby dreams in the path of fate!Yet Bill knows the force and just the braceTo lift a pound in such a case;With a rushing train and the child asleep,’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,He does with his might this God-like task;Bears the startled child on high[328]—So happy to hear its frightened cry—Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]And the crutches and form of Jemmie betweenHis wife and the train—that’s crushed the lifeFrom his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”But the train now slackens and stops apace—Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;And the train resumes its journey far.Heroes have been, and heroes are—Of battle and State, of travel and skill,Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]At the end of the road they gave him a purse“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;But finally took it, and stowed it away,And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.—Bettersworth.Published by permission of T. J. Carey, Editor of “Excelsior Readings and Recitations.”Gestures.[309]H. F.[310]H. O.[311]H. O. quick motion.[312]Trace line of smoke with ind. fin. from H. O. to H. F.[313]H. O. continuous gesture.[314]A. O.[315]H.O. continue with impulses to “bank.”[316]H. O. sweep.[317]Left listening.[318]Look around distractedly.[319]H. O.[320]Hand over eyes.[321]H. O.[322]Ind. H. F.[323]Throw both hands up.[324]Left H. O.[325]D. F.[326]Left H. L.[327]Left H. O.[328]Raise hand as though lifting child.[329]Hand on breast.[330]D. O.[331]D. L.[332]A. O.[333]Dazed manner.[334]H. F. cordially.[335]H. sweep.
“Bill” the Engineer.“All ’board!” “Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!”And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof,And snorts from his chest his breath of steam,With a quickening pulse and warning scream,Moves out[309]with his freight of human lives—A sinuous[310]chain of humming hives.Anon the hum is a rattling din,As the bright steel arms fly out and in,Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,Whose writhing folds envelope all.“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;“We must rush this grade and the bottom clearWith a monstrous bulge, to pull up hillT’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”And the coal went in and the throttle out.“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.Adown the grade with open throttleThey swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—Weaving in streaks of green and gray,The warp and woof of bush and clay,While steam and smoke and dust behindForm mottled clouds in the tortured wind.Through the cut[313]and into the vale—Across the trestle that spans the swale;There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.* * * * *Beyond the curve this side the hill,There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.Just round[316]the curve in the shady woodThat fringes the creek, his low hut stood,Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,With a lovely child and a loving wife.Naught now came their peace to marWorse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;For Jemmie had watched from year to year—And more than once did his vigil saveA train and its lives from a watery grave;Since broken in purse and form at the millHe worked on crutches—a good watch still!* * * * *“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s earLeans to the sound; then a mortal fearFreezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutchWhere Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—The wilting flowers across her breast;She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;The mother sprang like a startled deer,But the rushing train[324]was now too near—She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriekThat echoed afar o’er the winding creek;Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]And smote on the ear of the engineer;“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,Treading his thrills o’er the roaring firesWith his nerves strung tense as electric wires.Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;The baby dreams in the path of fate!Yet Bill knows the force and just the braceTo lift a pound in such a case;With a rushing train and the child asleep,’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,He does with his might this God-like task;Bears the startled child on high[328]—So happy to hear its frightened cry—Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]And the crutches and form of Jemmie betweenHis wife and the train—that’s crushed the lifeFrom his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”But the train now slackens and stops apace—Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;And the train resumes its journey far.Heroes have been, and heroes are—Of battle and State, of travel and skill,Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]At the end of the road they gave him a purse“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;But finally took it, and stowed it away,And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.—Bettersworth.Published by permission of T. J. Carey, Editor of “Excelsior Readings and Recitations.”Gestures.[309]H. F.[310]H. O.[311]H. O. quick motion.[312]Trace line of smoke with ind. fin. from H. O. to H. F.[313]H. O. continuous gesture.[314]A. O.[315]H.O. continue with impulses to “bank.”[316]H. O. sweep.[317]Left listening.[318]Look around distractedly.[319]H. O.[320]Hand over eyes.[321]H. O.[322]Ind. H. F.[323]Throw both hands up.[324]Left H. O.[325]D. F.[326]Left H. L.[327]Left H. O.[328]Raise hand as though lifting child.[329]Hand on breast.[330]D. O.[331]D. L.[332]A. O.[333]Dazed manner.[334]H. F. cordially.[335]H. sweep.
“All ’board!” “Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!”And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof,And snorts from his chest his breath of steam,With a quickening pulse and warning scream,Moves out[309]with his freight of human lives—A sinuous[310]chain of humming hives.Anon the hum is a rattling din,As the bright steel arms fly out and in,Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,Whose writhing folds envelope all.“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;“We must rush this grade and the bottom clearWith a monstrous bulge, to pull up hillT’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”And the coal went in and the throttle out.“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.Adown the grade with open throttleThey swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—Weaving in streaks of green and gray,The warp and woof of bush and clay,While steam and smoke and dust behindForm mottled clouds in the tortured wind.Through the cut[313]and into the vale—Across the trestle that spans the swale;There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.* * * * *Beyond the curve this side the hill,There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.Just round[316]the curve in the shady woodThat fringes the creek, his low hut stood,Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,With a lovely child and a loving wife.Naught now came their peace to marWorse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;For Jemmie had watched from year to year—And more than once did his vigil saveA train and its lives from a watery grave;Since broken in purse and form at the millHe worked on crutches—a good watch still!* * * * *“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s earLeans to the sound; then a mortal fearFreezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutchWhere Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—The wilting flowers across her breast;She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;The mother sprang like a startled deer,But the rushing train[324]was now too near—She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriekThat echoed afar o’er the winding creek;Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]And smote on the ear of the engineer;“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,Treading his thrills o’er the roaring firesWith his nerves strung tense as electric wires.Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;The baby dreams in the path of fate!Yet Bill knows the force and just the braceTo lift a pound in such a case;With a rushing train and the child asleep,’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,He does with his might this God-like task;Bears the startled child on high[328]—So happy to hear its frightened cry—Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]And the crutches and form of Jemmie betweenHis wife and the train—that’s crushed the lifeFrom his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”But the train now slackens and stops apace—Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;And the train resumes its journey far.Heroes have been, and heroes are—Of battle and State, of travel and skill,Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]At the end of the road they gave him a purse“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;But finally took it, and stowed it away,And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.—Bettersworth.
“All ’board!” “Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!”And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof,And snorts from his chest his breath of steam,With a quickening pulse and warning scream,Moves out[309]with his freight of human lives—A sinuous[310]chain of humming hives.Anon the hum is a rattling din,As the bright steel arms fly out and in,Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,Whose writhing folds envelope all.“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;“We must rush this grade and the bottom clearWith a monstrous bulge, to pull up hillT’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”And the coal went in and the throttle out.“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.Adown the grade with open throttleThey swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—Weaving in streaks of green and gray,The warp and woof of bush and clay,While steam and smoke and dust behindForm mottled clouds in the tortured wind.Through the cut[313]and into the vale—Across the trestle that spans the swale;There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.* * * * *Beyond the curve this side the hill,There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.Just round[316]the curve in the shady woodThat fringes the creek, his low hut stood,Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,With a lovely child and a loving wife.Naught now came their peace to marWorse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;For Jemmie had watched from year to year—And more than once did his vigil saveA train and its lives from a watery grave;Since broken in purse and form at the millHe worked on crutches—a good watch still!* * * * *“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s earLeans to the sound; then a mortal fearFreezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutchWhere Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—The wilting flowers across her breast;She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;The mother sprang like a startled deer,But the rushing train[324]was now too near—She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriekThat echoed afar o’er the winding creek;Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]And smote on the ear of the engineer;“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,Treading his thrills o’er the roaring firesWith his nerves strung tense as electric wires.Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;The baby dreams in the path of fate!Yet Bill knows the force and just the braceTo lift a pound in such a case;With a rushing train and the child asleep,’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,He does with his might this God-like task;Bears the startled child on high[328]—So happy to hear its frightened cry—Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]And the crutches and form of Jemmie betweenHis wife and the train—that’s crushed the lifeFrom his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”But the train now slackens and stops apace—Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;And the train resumes its journey far.Heroes have been, and heroes are—Of battle and State, of travel and skill,Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]At the end of the road they gave him a purse“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;But finally took it, and stowed it away,And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.—Bettersworth.
“All ’board!” “Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!”
And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof,
And snorts from his chest his breath of steam,
With a quickening pulse and warning scream,
Moves out[309]with his freight of human lives—
A sinuous[310]chain of humming hives.
Anon the hum is a rattling din,As the bright steel arms fly out and in,Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,Whose writhing folds envelope all.
Anon the hum is a rattling din,
As the bright steel arms fly out and in,
Till naught is heard save a deafening jar,
As the train speeds[311]on like a shooting star,
With a lengthening trail[312]like a smoky pall,
Whose writhing folds envelope all.
“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;“We must rush this grade and the bottom clearWith a monstrous bulge, to pull up hillT’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”And the coal went in and the throttle out.“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.
“Stoke up!” shouts Bill, the engineer;
“We must rush this grade and the bottom clear
With a monstrous bulge, to pull up hill
T’other side—heavy train.” “All right, Bill!”
And the coal went in and the throttle out.
“Watch yo’ side the curve!” from Bill with a shout.
Adown the grade with open throttleThey swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—Weaving in streaks of green and gray,The warp and woof of bush and clay,While steam and smoke and dust behindForm mottled clouds in the tortured wind.
Adown the grade with open throttle
They swiftly glide as a flying shuttle—
Weaving in streaks of green and gray,
The warp and woof of bush and clay,
While steam and smoke and dust behind
Form mottled clouds in the tortured wind.
Through the cut[313]and into the vale—Across the trestle that spans the swale;There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.* * * * *Beyond the curve this side the hill,There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.
Through the cut[313]and into the vale—
Across the trestle that spans the swale;
There the willows swirl, and the rank weeds sway,
And the heron starts with a shriek away[314]—
Blown from her course—a shrill refrain,
’Mid the whirling gusts of the flying train.
* * * * *
Beyond the curve this side the hill,
There runs a creek—by the old saw-mill—
A covered bridge[315]and a water tank,
With the watchman’s shanty on this bank:
A quiet nook, for the mill is done,—
With crippled Jemmie it ceased to run.
Just round[316]the curve in the shady woodThat fringes the creek, his low hut stood,Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,With a lovely child and a loving wife.Naught now came their peace to marWorse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.
Just round[316]the curve in the shady wood
That fringes the creek, his low hut stood,
Where Jemmie, the watch, spent his useful life,
With a lovely child and a loving wife.
Naught now came their peace to mar
Worse than a swift train’s rumbling jar.
To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;For Jemmie had watched from year to year—And more than once did his vigil saveA train and its lives from a watery grave;Since broken in purse and form at the millHe worked on crutches—a good watch still!* * * * *“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s earLeans to the sound; then a mortal fearFreezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”
To fame unknown, but to roadmen dear;
For Jemmie had watched from year to year—
And more than once did his vigil save
A train and its lives from a watery grave;
Since broken in purse and form at the mill
He worked on crutches—a good watch still!
* * * * *
“Hark![317]Tis the train! The mother’s ear
Leans to the sound; then a mortal fear
Freezes her veins—she sees not her child[318]!
“Oh, darling! Oh, Maggie!” in accents wild.
She starts[319]from the hut—nowfeelingthe way,
“Keep Maggie in when the trains go by.”
She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutchWhere Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—The wilting flowers across her breast;She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.
She strains her eyes[320]out toward the creek,
Where up the track, with an ashen cheek,
Hobbled the watch[321]—one pointing crutch
Where Maggie lay[322]in the engine’s clutch—
The wilting flowers across her breast;
She’d wearied to sleep in their eager quest.
“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;The mother sprang like a startled deer,But the rushing train[324]was now too near—She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriekThat echoed afar o’er the winding creek;
“Save her, Mary![323]For God’s sake run!”
Came Jemmie’s voice like a signal gun;
The mother sprang like a startled deer,
But the rushing train[324]was now too near—
She saw, and swooned[325]with a piercing shriek
That echoed afar o’er the winding creek;
Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]And smote on the ear of the engineer;“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,Treading his thrills o’er the roaring firesWith his nerves strung tense as electric wires.
Ay, pierced the boom round the curve so near,[326]
And smote on the ear of the engineer;
“Great God! Down brakes! Quick! Reverse!”
And Bill was out[327]on the iron horse,
Treading his thrills o’er the roaring fires
With his nerves strung tense as electric wires.
Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;The baby dreams in the path of fate!Yet Bill knows the force and just the braceTo lift a pound in such a case;With a rushing train and the child asleep,’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.
Alas! the engine’s speed is too great;
The baby dreams in the path of fate!
Yet Bill knows the force and just the brace
To lift a pound in such a case;
With a rushing train and the child asleep,
’Tis a giants’ power his place must keep.
Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,He does with his might this God-like task;Bears the startled child on high[328]—So happy to hear its frightened cry—Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.
Still reaching forth with an iron grasp,
He does with his might this God-like task;
Bears the startled child on high[328]—
So happy to hear its frightened cry—
Then crushing it to his manly breast,[329]
Kisses its cheeks with a lover’s zest.
“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]And the crutches and form of Jemmie betweenHis wife and the train—that’s crushed the lifeFrom his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”But the train now slackens and stops apace—Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]
“More brakes!” calls Bill, for the mother’s seen,[330]
And the crutches and form of Jemmie between
His wife and the train—that’s crushed the life
From his child, he thinks—“I’ll die with my wife!”
But the train now slackens and stops apace—
Hard by a pallid upturned face.[331]
“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.
“Saved!” cries Bill, from the engine’s front;
“Saved!” echoes Jemmie, his crutches shunt;
“Saved!” shout the passengers, “Saved from death!”
“Saved?”[333]queries Mary, with conscious breath.
Then helped to her feet—“God bless you sir!”
And Bill’s grimy hand wipes back a tear.
“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;And the train resumes its journey far.Heroes have been, and heroes are—Of battle and State, of travel and skill,Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]
“All ’board!” Sphee-ee-chee—sphee-ee-choof!
And the iron horse moves his steel-rimmed hoof;
And the train resumes its journey far.
Heroes have been, and heroes are—
Of battle and State, of travel and skill,
Of letters and art—but give us “Bill.”[334]
At the end of the road they gave him a purse“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;But finally took it, and stowed it away,And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.—Bettersworth.
At the end of the road they gave him a purse
“I don’t want that!” and he muttered a curse;
But finally took it, and stowed it away,
And then threw[335]it to “Mag” as he passed next day.
It whirled through the air and struck by the stoop,
Where the three stood to greet him, a joyful group.
—Bettersworth.
Published by permission of T. J. Carey, Editor of “Excelsior Readings and Recitations.”
Gestures.