or; ~i i ~»i =3 The Mail Agent's Story »■ ■■ sai Five years ago I was subordinate mail agent on the Great Southern Railway. I use the term "Great South ern" advisedly, since I have no In tention of locating my story, and If you look on your railway maps for the name of any of the towns mentioned herein, your quest will, doubtless, be a vain one. Axtell was the agent, and I acted under his orders. We ran only on the night express. One foggy night, as we slacked up for water at Rowley station, Axtell ■aid to me: "I shall have to give you the charge to-night, Gregory. I am off to Peiham. Little engagement, you know." "He laughed, and so did I, for his sweetheart lived at Peiham, and from the unusual redundancy of Ax tell's necktie I had little difficulty In concluding that he was going to visit Kate Vernon. And as I had my own dear Helen on board the train then, traveling to Fairbridge under my es cort, of course I had a fellow feel ing with Axtell, and was quite ready to accommodate him. It was just failing dusk, and prom ised to be a dark night. There was a cold mist in the air, and an east wind growled sullenly through the pine woodlands lying back of Rowley station. "I wish you joy of your ride, ttali nasty night," said I, as he moved off, and pocketing the key of the mall car, which he gave me with the remark: "I left the car unlocked with Joe to stand guard. You'd better hurry up," He sprang to the platform, for the train was already getting under head way. As we were moving off. Marker, the telegrapher at Rowley station, came hurrying out with a slip of paper in his hand. "Hello, Gregory," said he, breath lessly, "be good enough to give thia to Johnstone. Telegram just came down from Derby Junction. Impor tant!" I caught the last words without see ing the speaker, for we were leaving Rowley behind in the gloom. I thrust the paper into my pocket and hurled off to relieve Joe, a sleepy headed fellow, who acted as brake man, stoker, lamp-lighter, porter, or whatever he might be required for. I wanted to put the mail car under lock and key the first thing, and I felt a little vexed with Axtell for his carelessness in leaving it unlocked; Ibut for that I could have spent a cozy ten minutes by the side of Helen before It was time to change the mall at Burkesville. It was not like Axtell to be care less, but he was so deep in love with dashing Kate Vernon that at times hia head was not quite level. I found Joe, as I expected I should, fast asleep, and snoring almost as loud as the puffing of the locomotive. I sent him about his business and en tered the car to see If all was right, pulling the door to after me. I heard It lock as it closed, for it had a spring lock —one of the devil's own inven tions. Never mind, I said to myself— I had the key and was safe enough. I opened the bags of papers and letters, sorted out the parcels for Burkesville and placed thean in their appropriate bag. We merely left the mail at Burkesville—it was thrown off without stopping—generally the train made no very perceptible slackening there. And as we were a little be hind time that night, of course there would be no lessening of the speed, and I must be ready to throw off the bag promptly. I took up the bag and applied the key to the door of the car. Good heavens! It was in no respect like the key which fitted that complicated lock. I looked at it more carefully and saw that it was nothing but a common trunk key. Axtell had made a fearful mistake. I was a prisoner! and the worst of it was, there could be no escape for me until the train reached Fair bridge. No one but Axtell and myself ever came near the mail car. And here we were, rushing along at the rate of forty miles an hour, with A noise like the thunder of Niagara, and I felt, without making any attempt at realizing the fact, that all the voice In my lungs would never penetrate be yond the walls of that strongly built car. Like lightning we whizzed past Burkesville. Through the narrow slit which answered for a window I saw the station-master in the attitude of expectancy gazing after us, but we were miles away, probably, before the disappointed man got his mouth dosed from the gape of anticipation with which he regarded the train, I was angry, and must confess that I swore a little, though as there was no one present to hear me. It did not create any great sensation. My chief cause of chagrin lay in the fact that I could not reach Helen, and that she would doubtless be very much hurt, and perhaps angry, at what she might think savored of neglect. I examined the car doors, and bat tered against them with a settee, but 1 might as well have attempted to break the walls of the Bastile. There were three luggage vans be tween me and the engine, and two Becond-clasa cars, containing no pas sengers, between me and the coMfcea. The bell-rope leading to the engineer's box ran through the attic of the mall car and was not accessible from the compartment in which I then was. "Well," I said, disconsolately enough, after reviewing the situation, "there is nothing to do but grin and bear it." Suddenly I bethought myself of the telegram for the conductor. Strange that I had so long forgotten it! I un folded It with a cold shudder of ap prehension. There were only a few words, and the import of these were dread enough. With a swimming brain and half blinded sight I read the two sentences: "Slow the train at Derby Junction. Alder Run Bridge is down." A cold shudder shook me from head to foot. I leaned against the side of the car for support; while, like lightning, thought was busy in calculating what would be the result. We were running at a great rate of speed. It would be difficult to bring the train to a halt suddenly, and here was I—the only person on board who knew of the danger which threatened —shut up in this vile car helpless and powerless to give the alarm. I climbed to the window and looked out. It was dark as Erebus, but I managed to make out the lights of Stratford whizzing past, and I knew we were forty-five miles from Derby Junction. Alder Run was half a mile or so be yond Derby—a deep, rooky-bottomed gulch, through which ran a noisy stream, and this stream at present was quite a formidable river. I had spoken to Axtoll about the extraordi nary height of the water when we passed the night before. The bridge was a narrow pile, single track, and full twenty-five feet from the water. Iran all this over in my mind, and knew that if we plunged into that stony gulch, running at our present rate of speed, there would be very few of lis left to tell the tale. I drew a long breath. "What could I do? Nothing with in my power was left undone. I shout ed from tho little window until my voice failed from very exhaustion; I thundered against the doors until my hands were bruised and bleeding, and the settee —the one instrument I had to work with —lay in fragments at my feet. And all this time we were dash ing forward to our fate. To my ex cited imagination it seemed as if our speed was swiftly increasing—we no longer touched the earth —we flew! And Helen! my poor darling! A great throb of agony swelled in my throat and almost suffocated me at thought of her. All-unconscious of Impending doom —sitting quietly—her blue eyes heavy with tears at my neglect—going onto her fate! Suddenly a thought struck me, and I was desperate enough to do any thing. I felt I should go mad if I could not act. I might warn the engineer—warn the train —save the lives of those on board —though in all probability I should lose my own. I thought of Helen and of the dis mal shades of Alder Run, and did not hesitate a moment. I would fire the car! The flames would be seen —they would stop the train, and I would pray to God that I might retain my life until 1 could tell them the jeopardy we had been In —the danger which lay just ahead! Without a scruple I tore open the mail bag containing the newspapers and piled them up in a corner of the car. I laid everything combustible at my command on the pile and ap plied the match. It blazed up bravely, and so excited was I that I danced In front of the fire 1 had kindled like a madman. The car became Insuffer ably hot; I was obliged to put my head out of the window to breathe, and my clothes —thank Heaven, they were woolen —were beginning to crisp and shrivel in the intense heat. Al ready my face was blistered, and It seemed as if every drop of moisture In my body was dried up. And still that fire gained so slowly! Would It never burst through the roof of the car? We were nearly at Derby; already, by the hollow roar, I knew that we had run through Dar rell's Cut —only a mile from Derby! Minutes seemed hours, and my im patience became so unbearable that I seized a kerosene lamp and flung It Into the midst of the flames! The car rocked as if In the breath of a whirlwind. I was hurled violent ly against the door, and a long spire of lurid flame shot through the roof and seemed to wrap the whole fabric In its fiery embrace. And simultaneously I heard the sharp whistle of the locomotive to "down brakes," and I knew that my signal had been seen. The speed slackened; a few mom ents more and the train was at a standstill and the roar of Alder Run could be distinctly heard. We were within fifteen rods of de struction ! I had Just strength enough left to put the telegram in the hand of the first man who approached me, and then fainted dead away. I was very badly burned, and the physicians say that only Helen's faith ful nursing saved my life. As it was, I got scarred and dis figured, but Helen bravely sticks to it that I am handsomer than ever in her eyes; and, truth to tell, I care more for her Judgement than for that of every other woman in the world! The owners were pleased to con sider my conduct heroic and raised my salary, so that Helen and I were married as soon as 1 was able to too about; but I have in my black locks more than one thread at white which appeared there that night the bridge at Alder Run was down. —HERO STRONG. |[ ! NOTES RW: C.M.BARNITZ RIVERSIDE , A-/ CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED J&T life 1 [These articles and Illustrations must not bo reprinted without special permis sion.] BIDDY IN THE BUSHES. I About the first thing asked by the town boy when ho visits the farm is, ! "Gran'ma, let me hunt the eggs?" ; "Sure," she answers, "but don't fal! down the hay hole." And then away to the haymow And up on the big straw stack, Down In the stable entry And up on old Kan's rack, Those kids go screeching and climbing | To find the eggs so white That Biddy, the hustling farm hen, Has hidden out of sight. Hut some hens are too slick even for the American boy and aren't found un- j til they show their chicks unless the ! reaper uncovers their nest in the field. I'retty Biddy in the picture stole her nest on the border of the wheat, where ' we found her sitting on thirteen white eggs iu a cool cozy nest among the tall weeds and grasses. There we sat down beside Biddy In the bushes to take lessons from nature at short range, for Biddy in the stolen nest always seems to do the" best. Hear our hen tale: The nest was clean of filth and lice, ! for Biddy dusted near by; thus the ' BIDDT IN THE BUSHES. eggs were kept sanitary. The quiet, cool retreat was a rest euro where the hen's hatching temperature easily av- J eraged 103 to 101 degrees, where she j even gained strength as she awaited the coining of the stork. She fed ev- | ery day. gathering grit and grain from the field and remained off the nest | from fifteen minutes to one hour, ae- j cording to the weather. The hygrometer, contrary to opin- j ion. showed that ground, air and hen : added very little moisture to the eggs, the hen adding the most. Humidity under the hen averaged from 00 to 63, j whereas certain nonmoisture incu j bator register but 20 to 35, a condition j BIDDY'S BEAUTIES. unfavorable to germ life. The cause of ...lell bound chicks and dread white diarrhea. Biddy's eggs lost but 10 per cent weight by evaporation, some incuba tors by excessive ventilation and dry ness robbing eggs of 20 to 30 per cent, which is deadly. Biddy's thirteen eggs hatched. She raised them all, which shows what we can do if we follow nature's plan. DON'TS. Don't hesitate if eggs and moat you want. The Dottes, the Itocks, the Reds, can do the stunt. Don't study long if you want size and flesh that's white. The Iloudan, Orpington, Minorca, are all right. Don't look elsewhere If after big white eggs. Take Black Minorcas with blue slaty legs. Dou't be a spendthrift. The prodigal in ancient days went to the hogs, but spenders now go quickly to the dogs. Don't hunt around long if after eggo from quacks. The Runners lay them round by stacks. Dou't ponder much on turkey breeds. The big Bronze beaut meets all our needs. A BLICK FOXY TRICK. Ten roosters sat high In a tree As safe and cozy as could be. They kissed good night and went to Bleep VVhl.c peace reigned In the forest deep. A big fox waited down below To nab those roosters In a row. "Alas," ho cried, "the game's no go, Because they love each other so!" Then that sly fox let out a snore That made the very forest roar. A rooster, wakened In his fright. Yelled at another to his right: "Cut out that snoro, you awful bore! If you shoot oft your snoot horn more I'll give you such an awful lick You'll turn into a feather tick!" An argument at once nrose, And those ten roosters came to blows. They battled In that tall treetop, And all fell down to earth kerflop. And foxy gobbled all the ten And bore them to his hidden den. Where In his cave amid the stones Were stacks on stacks of chicken bonea. Thus that old demon, slick Old Nick, Works humans with this foxy trick, j Ho promotes, referees each bout. Then gives to each a slick knockout. N. B.—To beat the devil keep your tern | per level. C. M. BARNITZ. BEST TIME TO BUY STOCK. j It's often a puzzzler for a beginner : | to know when to buy stock—when it's i j high or low and at Its best, j Old birds are cheapest at the end of , I the breeding season. They are of lit- ! j tie profit for eggs from then on till ' after molt. Molt puts them out of ; condition for sale, and their room is I needed for youngsters. Don't buy breeders in molt. They are without full plumage, don't \ show their real shape and spirit, and yon can't tell whether you are getting a square deal on color, for a bird per fect in color before in molt will some- ■ times go bad. «As winter approaches fowls are high er because scarcer, and eggs sell high, j In spring they are highest because of j I breeding season. Buying In molt, you may lose some, i as feather forming is a strain. Buy- I lug in winter, colds contracted in ship, j ping may bring roup. Young stock, hatched from March to May, is fully matured in the fall. 1 cheap and plentiful, especially males, j In buying at shows remember mpny | j particolored fowls are bred for cxlii- i l bltion by double mating and thus can j not breed their like. ! It is the best policy to visit your j dealer, seleet your birds, pay in ad ; vance and take them right home with j you unless you are sure that, like the famous George, he never told a lie. FEATHERS AND EGGSHELLS. There were 550 new members added j to the American Poultry association the past year. Entry fees, $5,500. Next! Uniformity In size, color and quality 1 should be the aim of every produce: of eggs. Put up the best and bon ton i trade will do the rest. | A Mount Royal (Pa.) fancier raised ! nineteen twelve-toed chickens. This is \ | bad policy. People kick at paying for eight toes now. The American boy is I just now yelling for a turkey with four ; drumsticks, aud there's a crown for i the head that Invents the quadruped. I A woman of Calvert, Md., declares j flies cure chicken gapes. Some of our 1 erudite scientists declare that chicks J get gapes from earthworms. You j should educate chicks to differentiate ! lest of worms they partake and suffo | cute. Poultrymen around Pittsburg will hopper feed dried grasshoppers this season. The Insects were so thick in i that vicinity that they stalled trains on the Union railroad, j A poultry plant at Brown's Mills, N | J., houses 25,000 layers. Its incubator j capacity is 1,200 chicks per day, and | during the past season it shipped out I 100,000 eggs for hatching, 08,500 live ; chicks and at the same time .sold many breeders nnd an immense amount of i market eggs and poultry. When the • roosters crow and those 25,000 Leg ' horn liens cackle a boiler factory is : not in it. Kwong Yuen Shing, a Chinese im porter, argued witli the custom ofli ; clals that Chinese duck meat packed | in peanut oil is not "meat preserved ! and prepared," on which a 25 per cent I tax is imposed, but genuine dressed ' poultry. Why should they let a Shiug ' argue? Why didn't they yank him by 1 the cue and make him pay just what i was due. " I Give your hens lots of fresh air. It J Is also splendid for monkeys. They I formerly died at the Chicago zoo with j tuberculosis, but siuce getting the fresh air treatment they "sit on snow banks and eat their bananas." Let their hu man descendants sit up on a snow bank nnd take notice. • When the rooster show is over the real sport, when beaten, is only tem porarily defeated. He does not go home to nurse a grievance, but to plan, hustle and sweat to make a bet ter showing the next time. Then when he wins he does not get a puffed head, but he quietly puts in extra licks to make his next year's string the best ever. The wise man is he who keeps his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut He plods up to sure success, while others are wrecked in hot air ships of fancy. Bo many draw a sad last breath Because they talk themselves to death. They lie beneath a has-been slab Because they overworked their gab. Fowls are very regular in their hab its. Winter and summer, tropical rainy season and dry, they arise and retire witli the sun. They certainly teach a lesson toman In this fast age, when so many burn the candle at both ends. Farm and Garden "HELLO!" ON THE FARM. Telephone Plays a Great Part In Ag riculturist's Life, Says Census Folks. The special report on the telephone service of the country recently pub lished by the bureau of the census Contains a comment on the influence of the. telephone in life on the farm. It is asserted that "no single factor has played so great a part in the ame lioration of tlie conditions of life on the farms as has the telephone." Hun dreds of thousands of instruments are now Installed in farmers' homes. The report locates the beginning of the rural service In Connecticut in 1881, when a company operating in the cit ies nf that state arranged for the con nection of isolated village systems with the company's exchanges in the cities. This opened a new and almost limitless avenue of telephone service, but little was done in that direction for a number of years. The demand for service in the cities and larger towns kept the makers of the patented Instruments so busy that little was OF ever could be done In the way of rural extension. The expiration of funda mental patents in 1803 and the fact that by that time the urban field was fairly covered brought the telephone into Wider use in villages and country homes. The report states that at the present time no reliable figures are available as t«» the actual number of farm tele phones. The year covered by the bul letin is 1007. It Is presumable that the recently taken census, the details of which will not be available for sev eral months, will include an accurate report of the present state of the serv ice. The matter of special importance here Is the comment of the Investiga tors on the value and the nature of the service of the telephone In the farmhouse. Among the manifold uses of the instruments they note the ac cess given to farmers to the markets in which their products are sold. "The grain grower In the west when ap proached by a buyer who wishes to purchase his wheat simply steps to the telephone and asks through the nearest exchange the closing prices in the Chicago market on the preceding day or the opening prices on the present day." The truck farmers in the neigh borhood of large cities telephone to the city markets and find out whether there is any demand for their fresh vegetables or whether the market Is glutted and prices low. If the report Is unfavorable they wait for a better demand and bettor prices before car rying their vegetables or fruits or oth er products to the place of sale. If an animal of value falls sick the veterinary surgeon is summoned by telephone. If a horse Is stolen word Is sent to all the farmers on the circuit. In case of fire or accident help is called with avoidance of the delay Involved in the dispatch of a messenger who cannot well ho spared at all at such a time. On many of these little coun try circuits a prearranged signal at or about some regular hour summons all subscribers to their instruments while "central" reads out the important news of the day and gives out the weather report. The Instrument relieves the Isolation of the women on the farm. Their days are often spent in lone liness while the "men folks" are at their work on some distant part of the farm or absent on some errand to the city or lo some other farm. A few minutes of chat or gossip is a meas ureless boon to many so situated. With I he Installation of the telephone, the extension <.f the Interurban street railway :