Life — October 25, 1883 — page 5: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“CONDUCTORS MUST OBSERVE THIS RULE.” “cc How did I become superintendent ?” answered the rail- road official, ‘Why, it was this way. I was'con- ductor of the morning passenger express, and one day as we were coming down by the junction, we struck a misplaced switch, and ran into a freight train that was standing on the siding. As we were running about thirty-five miles an hour, of course it piled things up a good deal. Our engine was smashed all to pieces, the ' smoker’ telescoped the baggage-car, and the forward passenger-coach ran up on the heap and rolled over. I was standing on the platform at the time the thing happened, and luckily was slung off about thirty feet beside the trace When I picked myself up everything was confusion, the air was filled with clouds of escaping steam, and about fifty passengers were somewhere in the wreck. Of course it was what you might call an ‘emergency,’ but there ’s no such word as that in the com- pany’s cietionary® Thad my orders, and knew what to do. The roof of the smoking-car lay near me, and I heard a man crying out from underneath it, After about ten minutes’ work, I got the stuff all cleared away, and reached him. He was very weak and groaning. “Oh, Heavens!" he said, ‘this timber presses on me so, I can'tmove. Both my legs are broken below the knee.’ ‘Think you'll be here till the next train ? I asked. ‘Oh, yes,’ he moaned. “«* Then you ‘ll need a stop-over check, sir,’ I said, and I made out a pasteboard and gave it to him. «+ Voung man,’ he said, ‘I observe that you have neglected to fillin the day of the month, but, under the circumstances, your omission is excusable. I am a Director of the company, and, if I survive, your attention to duty shall be rewarded.” “The old gentleman pulled through, and is now Vice-Presi- dent. That's how I'm Superintendent, and—" he continued, musingly, as he fingered his lantern watch-charm, ‘'I believe in the old saying that the ‘company has rights which the public is bound to respect, and rules which they must conform to. H, L. SATTERLEE. T is not to be doubted that Mr. Edgar Fawcett has done some of his best work in the chapters of ‘‘An Ambitious Wo- man.” But there is an anti-climax of quality in the work. There is nothing in the closing chapters to be compared with the som- bre and delicately drawn sketches of poetry which form the pre- lude to the ambitious Claire’s career. The episodes of one day overshadow all others—the day which ended with the death of Claire's father. It would be hard to compress in a few pages more vivid description, combined with deep and varied feeling, than is found in the story of Claire's lonely and terrible journey from Niblo’s across town to the ferry, fleeing from brutality. It is when the scene changes to the splendors of Fifth Avenue that Mr. Fawcett’s faults become accentuated. He revels in de- scriptions of forgcous costumes ; they are well done, but literary tailoring and literary art cannot claim equal honors. Mr. Faw- cett’s pen portraits of Sylvia Lee and Claire could be effectively introduced in a first-class fashion magazine with colored plate illustrations, : “You could tell at a glance that that butter was n't old,” said Jones to his landlady. “ Of course it isn't, sir!" she replied, much pleased; “but how can you tell, sir?” “Why, I can see that it isn’t bald yet," he an- swered softly, and for ten minutes naught broke the silence save the exclamations of a fly in the milk pitcher, who was unable to swim. > LIFE: EVIL COMMUNICATIONS. “cc A CHINAMAN, Jack Hi; All broken up—black eye,” Was all the cop, who brought him in, could give for pedigree. jut when he went to bed, The nurse on duty said, He went through his devotions in a way that shamed Ward 3. And-on our morning round, To our surprise we found His only useful optic on a Sankey Hymn-book fixed ; But though he tried to say With glee, Y. M.C. A., His ideas of the language were, with this exception, mixed. ‘That very afternoon, We heard a fiendish tune ‘That seemed to have its starting point somewhere about Ward 3. A visitor in black, ‘Accompanied by Jack, And a penitent barkeeper, just over the D. T. He would n't say a word To us, although we heard Him patiently at times repeat, in accents indistinct, ‘An English word or two, Apparently askew, While the D. T. chap beside him encouragingly winked. In just about a week, thers russet leather cheek Was wrinkled with the mildest of mild Mongolian grins, ‘As his good friend again Appeared with an ‘* Amen,” And a somewhat incoherent allusion to his sins. “ Don-gimme-annee-slack,” Proudly responded Jack, Then, in quite an off-hand manner, he inquired what he 'd take, With such supreme content He evidently meant That, ‘* My Christian salutation appropriates the cake.” One scarcely could describe How, with a ribald jibe, He complacently desired us to tumble to the crank, Concluding with a phrase, Which, in these modern days, Is politely designated by a suggestive blank. The worthy man of tracts Skipped out between the acts, Shocked at the’strange behavior of the innocent Chinee. The D. T. chap we bounced After we had announced That the reformation racket was played out in Ward 3. j. F. D. comicbooks.com