How Jerry Saved The Mills

The dul], cold day was at its close; but the heavy rain and strong south wind wbieh had swept the town since early dawn still continued with undiminished fury. The gale shrieked as it tore about the corners and lashed the faces of the few huirying foot passengers; while the driving rain penetrated everywhere, drenching the streets, flooding the gutters, and collecting in deep, treacherous pools at the corner crossings. The bare trees moaned and writhed and wept; the swinging signboards ín front of small taverns creake 1 and groaned disnially; the tall chimney of the Dumbleton Knife works rocked thrcateningly; and in the midst of all the tumult the great river was swelling and straining at its wintry bounds, while a sharp crackling sounded ever and anón f rom the broad field of ice that stretched from shore to shore, and little streams of water began to appear here and there, running swiftly along the frozen plain. March had come in like a lamí), it was departing like a üon ; and shrouded by wind and rain and heavy mist, the last night of the month came thickly down. It was supper time, past closing time for the milis and factories, past trading time for the stores, and except for an occasional light here in some saloon or corner grocery, the Windows along the business streets of the town were dark and the rain beat unheeded igainst their black panes. Few people were abroad, and even thoso few seemed to have been forced upon unwelcome journeys, for they hastened through the sloppy streets with bent heads, shi vering as the sharp wind tore at their wrappings or the gusts of rain beat upon them. One such man, ciad in heavy oil-cloth coat, was walkiug rapidly up State street, when, just at a particularly windy corner, he came in sudden contract with a lad who was crouching in front of a baker's window, where a single lamp still burned, eyeing with hungry gaze the dainties within. 'Hullo!' cried the man, starting back. 'I almost ran over you, my boy.' Then, looking more sharply at the dripping figure before him, he continued; 'VVhy, Jerry, is that you ?' ' Ye3, sir,' replied the other, half pulling kis tattered cap from his head. 'If you please, sir, it's me.' 'What's wrong ?' said Mr. 'VTattersoii, tl1 e proprietor of the great milis that skirted the river, for it was he. 'Wtiat's wrong? Why are you not at home? The milis closed two hours ago.' . 'I know it, sir; but I haven't worked this week, sir, for sister Nellie's sick, an' l've been a-nussin' of her up toour boardin' house. You see, sir, since mother died, an' our house was sold, Nellie an' me has stopped at Mis' Crawford's boardin' house; but my money's give out, an' Mis' Crawford she told me this mornin' - The boy stopped abruptly. What? Come, Jerry, speak out. You're not afraid of me. Teil me what she said.' 'Well, sir, she did say as how I must pay our board in advance every week now; for, if Nellie was agoin' to be sick an' I was agoin' to quit work to nuss her, she didn't see how she'd get her money. An' our week ran out to-day, sir, and my money too; all but twenty cents, an' 'o'iat I spent for oranges for Nellie. An' Mis' Crawford, she said as how 1 couldn't eat at her table, 'thout I paid flrst. So I jest slips out into the street at meal times, for fear Nellie'd know I wasn't eatin', an' 'twould worry her, she bein' sick. An' that's how I came here, sir.' The boy finished, half-frightened at his long speech to 'the master,' and again pulled at his ragged cap, while the March wind tossed his yellow hair about his wet face and the cold rain beat upon his scantily ciad shoulders. Mr. Watterson stood for a moment in deep thought. It was hard for him to realize such poverty as this, and among his own hands too. Jerry was a 'bobbin-boy' in the milis, whom he had known for a year or moreby sight the only support of a widowed raother' and sister- now of the sister only; it seemed that the lad had always been bright-faced and cheery, and the great proprietor remembered him as one of the happiest among his boys. That this child could actually suffer for food while striving to care for his little charge (the orphan Nellie) seemed to the gentleman too terrible to be true. And yet there just before him, his honest blue eyes telling the same story which his lips had repeated, stood Jerry, dinnerless, supperless and almost homeless, upon this the wildest night of all the year. Mr. Watterson forgot the rising flood, which eren now was threatening ms milis; he forgot the urgent errand which had driren him out mto the storm, and he seized the boy by the arm, pushed open the doer of the little bakery before which they stot;d, and fairly dragged him within. 'Here!' he cried k the baker's wife, who came, bowing and smiling, to execute thsgreat man's commands. 'See! Give this lad the best supper you can cook and all the provisions he can cartj, and send the bill to me.' ïhen, hurriedly, drawing some money from his pocket -book, he thrust it into Jerry's hand, and said: 'When you have eaten, go back to Mrs. Crawford's and pay her for a month in advance. Then find a doctor for Nellie, and stay with her yourself until she is well. After that come back to me at the milis. If they are standing, you shall have work. No. Not a word!' he continned, as the astonished boy would have spoken. 'The money is a present toyou and Nellie from me.' And before Jerry could recover from his surprise Mr. Watterson had goae. Supper! money! and a doctor forNelhe! Could it be true? The boy unclasped his hand and looked at the precious bilis. Yes, it was true! As he ate the bountif ui meal prepared for him by. the baker's good wife, the bobbin-boy pictured Nellie's delight when he should return and teil her of what had happened to him; and, later, when he faced the dreary storm, homeward bound, with a great basket, heaped with buns and cakes and oranges from the baker's shelves. upon his arm, his heart was light and his laugh rang merrily out across the darkness and the rain, as he tuoughthowboldly he would meet Mis' Crawford, and how astonished and puzzled she would be when he paid her - not a week, but a month in advance! 'It's just like a fairy story!' said he, half aloud, as he clitnbed the sloppy steps of his boarding-house - 'just like a fairy story, with a great, big, splendid, rich man fairy!' A & A Ui It was almost morning. Already the black curtain oL night, rent here and there by the f urious wind, was slowly lifting toward the east and the dull gray dawn appearing, forming a sombre background, upon which the leafless trees that fringed the far-away bilis were painted in waving silhouette. Since ever the sun had gone down, the wild storm had continued, and even now the rain, driven by the mighty wind, feil in long, slanting lances upon the town and the frothing river, that, fllled with preat masses of broken ice and debris f romjall the up-conntry,roared and plunged bet ween its banks and shook with ginn'. hands the foundation of the milis bencath which it ran. At the head of the dam, where the channel was the narro west, and directly opposite the Watterson mili, was an ice jam. Piled block upon block, until it towered high in the air, pressing with terrible force against the milis, upon the one hand, and the natural wall of rock upon the other, the broken ice had formed a great white barricade, growing each -moment, which checked the mad rush of the water and sent it swirling bacfcward in eddying waves, which beat furiously upon the milis and threatened each instant to engulf them. Along the higher shore the townspeople had gathered, powerless to aid, but simply awaiting the catastrophe; and among them, pale and haggard, was the proprietor himself , already a ruined man. As he passed to and fro, intent upon the scène before him, hoping against hope that the jam might even yet give way in time to save his buildings, many a watcher turned aside with pitying word and look, for Mr. Watterson was a man beloved by all his employés. Suddenly there was a movement in the crowd - a hastening toward the common centre- and, with eager faces, both men and wnen gathered about a new corner, who was speaking earnestiy- 'Yes. If that timber could be cut it would break the jam. It lies just so that it holds- ' 'What timber; Where? Quick? Teil me; can the jam be broken?' 'Yes, sir,' retumed the other, respectfully touching his hat. 'It can; but it's dangerous work. I have just been below, and from there I saw that a great log which has lodged at the very crown of the dam is all that holds the ice. If that could be cut the jam would be broken.' 'But how can it be reached ?' queried Mr. Watterson, anxiously. 'Can any one get at it to cut it ?' 'Yes, sir,' replied the man; 'in one way.' 'And that is - ' 'Over the ice itself.' A shudder ran throngh the listeners, and even the proprietor's face grew more pale. Who would venture upon such a bridge on such an errand ? With a common impulse the crowd led by the workman who flrst discoverecl the log, turned hurriedly away from the river's brink, ran through a sido street, and gained a position lower down the strea, from whence the dam could be plainly seen. The report was true. The jam was held in place by a single timber - a great squaie stick, doubtless torn by the angry waters from some bridge far up the country. If that could be ent, the blockade would be broken, the ice would no longer clog the stream, and the milis would be saved. For a moment silence feil upon all; then suddenly, Mr. Wattereon's voice, hoarse and thin, rang out above the noise of the storm and the war of the waters. 'A thousand dollars to the man who will cut that timber!' The women in the little group looked at each other and shuddered; tho men flxed their eyes upon the dam; but no one replied. The roar of the angry stream increaaed and the waters dtepened beneath the mill-walls. 'T wo ihoesand dollars!' The proprietor's voice was hoarser thaiï before; but the women closed their lips firmly and ehook their heads. The men moved a little uneasily, and one drew his hand across hismouth, as if he would have spoken; but still no one replied, and th white foam from the impriaonsd rivw was tosced by the wind against the lower windows of the milis, while the corners of the buildings were already beginning to crumble and waste away before the grinding ice. 'ïhree thou- ' 'I will go!' The two voices sounded so cloeely togetlier that it was not until the crow( turned their eyes upward and saw th one who had answered, that they fair ly understood the reply. Running f rom a third-story window of the lower mili directly across the river, above the dam, was a long end less chain, used to convey power from the mighty water-wheel of the milis to the machinery of a little box factory located upon the opposite bluff. This chain was at rest now, and there appearod at the window near it the figure of a boy, in a blue blouse, carrying in his hands an axe. He it was who had said, 'I will go!' When the people saw him, and realized what he was about to attempt (for already he had fastened a rope around his body and was passing the other end over the chain, evidently with the intention of sliding along the same until he found a point from which he could lower himself within reach of the timber;) when they realized this, a great murmur went up from the crowd, and the women o ied out in terror, while many turned to Mr. Watterson and urged him to order the boy back. 'Who is he ?' said the proprietor in a dazed manner. 'It's Jerry, sir. Jerry the bobbinboy,' said a man, stepping forward. 'An orphan, sir, an' strivin' to care for his sick sister.' 'Jerryl Is it Jerry?' cried Mr. Watterson, turning quickly. 'Then he shall not go,' and he waved his hand and shouted tovvard the window: 'Go back! Go back!' But alroady it was too late, for, with a little cry, the boy dropped from his peren and hung swinging above the roaring, grinding ico, the rope which supported him sliding slowly downward along the chain towará the centre of the dam. The breathlesscrowd, the terror-strioken proprietor, could only watch and wait now. Slowly and unevenly the looped ropo from which Jerry was suspended slipped, link by link, down the sagging chain; slowly his f eet neared the great mass of ragged ice beneath. At length, when he was directly over the centre of the dam, and just above the long beam which held the jam, allowing the rope to slide quickly through his hands, he dropped lightly apon the timber he had come to cut! At the sight, the sympathetic crowd broke into a wild cheer, both men and women; but Jerry wasted no time listening. A moment, half a moment lost might mean destruction to the milis, and before the echo of the shouting had ceased he was plying his axe with vigorous strokes, that rang sharp and clear above the voice of crumbling ice and gathering waters. It was not a long task, The strain upon the timber already was enormous, and ere the lad had dealt half a score of blows, an ominous crackling sound warned him that he must be gone. Dropping the axe, he turned, seized the dangling rope, and began to climb toward the chain above, when, with a shock like the report of a cannon, the ' beam gave way, and in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, the air was fllled with a horrible roaring, as the imprisoiied wateis burst the bonds which had conflned thena, and in one impetuous, boiling flood rushed over the dam, tossing the great cake3 of ice that had formed thebarricr high on the frothing waves- so high that they hid from sight the form of poor Jerry - and there went up from all the people a single cry: 'The boy is lost.' But the jam was broken! The milis were savedl And Jerry was saved too! Bruised and stunned and blecding, hanging half insensible above the black waters that swept with a swift curve towaid the fall, when the ice that hadbuffeted him had passed away, the watchers saw that the boy still lived; and, quicker than it can be told, a boat was procured ana manned, a long line made faat toit, and dropping down the Btream until they were close to him, tender hands were upraised, loving voices called, and, with a long, sobbing cry, the little hero loostid his grasp upjn the rope which held him and dropped fainting into the waiting arms below. To-day the great milis stand by the riyer's brink, and the rumble of their machinery is heard all day long, as of yore; but it does not reach the ears of the 'bobbin-boy,' nor yst those of Sister Nellle. For the one is at college and the other at school, both foster children of that most pleasant of old bachelors, the proprietor himself ; aad it is only at vacation time now, when his days are brightened by the presence of both his loved ones, that Mr. Watterson's memory turns back to that springtime, long gone by, when his son Jerry, in simple, soulful gratitude, risked hiB life to save the milis. An English paper gives the following account of the force exerted by fungi in raising heavy weightg: "áome years ago the town of Basingstoke was paved, and not many montos afterwards the pavement was observed to exhibit an unevenness which could not be easily accounted for. In a short time af terwards the myst ry was explained, for some of the heaviest stones were tompletely lifted out of their beds by the growth of large toadstools beneath them. One of these stones naeasured 22x21 inches, and weighed 83 pounds, and the resistance afforded by the mortar which held it in its place would probably be even a greater ob-tacle than the weight. It became necessary to repave the whole town in consequence of this remarkable disturbance. The new "Fountaine" locomotive, which was sent fromPhiladelphia to Aitoona to be tested by the Pennsylvania Railroad, has not stood a satisfactory ti lal. Fxperts declare that the damage to the tracks is greater than the economy in time, and that, while upon a perfectiy straight road the locomotive might make a splendid j erformance, it is not adapted to the grades and cufve3 of the Pennsylvania lload. The Irish pe iple pay $90,000,000 to the landlords erery year. It ig computed that $75,000,000 of tbis amount goes out of the country to be spent in London, Paris and the gambling dens of Germany.