I jist whis’l’d all the brakes on. An’ we worked with might an’ main, Till the fire flew from the drivers, but we couldn’t stop the train, An’ it rumbled on above her. How she screamed ez we rolled by! An’ the river roared below us,—I shell hear her till I die.
Then we stopped; the sun wuz shinin’; I ran back along the ridge, An’ I found her—dead? No, livin’! She wuz hangin’ to the bridge, Where she dropped down through the cross-ties with one arm about a sill, An’ the other round the baby, who wuz yellin’ fur to kill.
So we saved ’em. She wuz gritty. She’s ez peart ez she kin be; Now we’re married; she’s no chicken, but she’s good enough for me. An’ ef eny ask who owns her, w’y! I ain’t ashamed to tell— She’s my wife. Ther’ ain’t none better than ole Filkin’s daughter Nell. Eugene J. Hall.
THE COMING WAVE.
Dipper Bay was a little inlet, almost land-locked, in which the water was deep enough to float his sloop at this time of tide, and its high rocky shores would afford him a perfect protection from the fury of any squall, or even hurricane. But Leopold felt that his chances of reaching this secure haven were but small, for the breeze was very light.
The sloop “Rosabel” was but a short distance from the shore when the wind entirely subsided, and the long rollers were as smooth as glass. The lightning glared with fearful intensity, and the thunder boomed like the convulsions of an earthquake. By this time Rosabel [for whom the sloop had been named], who had before enjoyed the sublimity of the coming storm, now began to realize its terrors, and to watch the handsome boatman with the deepest anxiety. The sails flapped idly in the motionless air, and Dipper Bay was still half a mile distant.
“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Hamilton,” said Leopold. “If the squall will keep off only a few moments, we shall be in a safe place.”
The skipper evidently “meant business;” and, shipping the long oars, he worked with a zeal which seemed to promise happy results, and Rosabel began to feel a little re-assured. But the sloop was too large, and too broad on the beam, to be easily rowed, and her progress was necessarily very slow.
“Can’t I help you, Leopold?” asked the maiden, when she saw what a tremendous effort the boatman was making.