Burnham Breaker

previous day recurred to him, and he saw again, in imagination, the long line of breaker-boys, with happy, dusty faces, filing slowly by him, grateful for his gifts, eager

; and he had taken his little daughter on his knee and told to her the story of the boy who worked all day in the breaker, who had no father and no mother, and whose name was-Ralph! Bo

humble though his origin might be, he should, at least, bear the name to which his parentage entitled him. The more he thou

ve been had he lived to this boy's age. It was not alone in the name, but something also in the tone of voice, in the turn o

accumulation of letters and papers, he looked absently out into the busy street and laid

red, an old man in shabby clothes, leaning on a cane. He was breathing heavily, apparently from the exertion of

the table from Mr. Burnham, placed a well worn leather sat

he said: "Excuse me. A little unusual exertion always brings

d Burnham, regarding his v

you don't know

member to have

you have, not at all l

e in Philadelphia

fine city. What can I

n, sir. The question is

rose, went to the door, which had been left aj

rnham, calmly, "wha

n the table in front of him; "very much if you will

, smiling, and leaning back in his chair somew

yed short interviews with them. This one had opened the conversation in much the usual manner, and the probability seemed to be that he would now go on to unfold the usual scheme by which his listener's th

Cherry Brook bridge disaster that occurre

in his chair, "I do; I have good reason

ain. Terrible acc

s, it was ter

the cars hadn't taken fire and burne

essing part of it; but why d

u and your wife and your child, a

, I repeat, are you ask

me to talk about this

ed to this prote

unconscious state, were you not, jus

his hearer by calling up painful memories. Rec

e perished, didn't he? Was bur

ny object in repeating this harrowing story, let me know what i

which I will disclose to you if you will be good enough to answer my questi

at is our firm b

, that you a

do you

oy is n

ent to speak. His face took on a sudden pallor,

"the child perished; we h

ead," persisted the old m

e. Bring him to me an

o his chair with a look of w

y might make you fail to recognize the child. Suppose

ll; prod

d took from it a key, with which he unlocked the satchel. Then, drawing forth a package and untying and unrolling it, he shook it out and held it up for Robert Burnham to look at. It was a little flannel cloak. It had once

nize it?" ask

zed it with

h's! He wore it that day. Where did yo

something else. Finally he drew out a child's cap, a quain

nham with eager fingers, and

man, "or do you believe now that I have s

e question. His mind seemed to

gold locket. It had his father's p

et. The father took it in his trembling hands, looked on it very t

ry gently; "they were all his; te

hem faithfully. But I will tell you the whole story. I think you a

e, pulled his chair closer to the t

bank and did what I could to help those in the wreck, but it was very dark and the cars were piled up in a heap, and it was hard to do anything. Then the fire broke out and we had to stand back. But I heard a child crying by a broken window, just where the middle car had struck across the rear one, and I climbed up there at the risk of my life and looked in. The fire gave some light by this time, and I saw a young w

ver some clew to his identity. But I couldn't find out anything about him; nothing at all. The day after that I was taken sick. The exertion, the exposure, and the wetting I had got in the water of the brook, brought on a severe attack of pneumonia. It was several months before I got around again as usual, and I am still suffering, you see, from the results of that sickness. After that, as my time and means and

boy was your son. I thought the best way to break the news to you was to bring you the child himself. With that end in view, I returned immediately to Philadelphia, only to find Ralph-missing. He had either run away or been stolen, I could not tell which. I was not able to t

had been interrupted by spasms of coughing, and, now that he w

was no doubt of that; but he did not yet seem qui

e," he asked, "when the

isted you in the

sitated

blame me too severely for not taking better care of

is he now? Where is the bo

. But, before I do that, I feel that, in justice to myself, I should receive some compensation, not only for the car

s brow d

e a money transaction. Your object

not wholly an unselfi

upon the absolute t

certa

t is your propos

n, I have concluded that three thous

what

at amount when I br

nize nor acknowledge as my son

o money, and the boy wi

he exclaimed, earnestly. "If you will bring my boy to me, alive, unh

ca

ca

days. But-you may change your mind in the mean

tain

seat and wrote hurriedly

ate of Pennsylvania, witnesseth that the said Craft agrees to produce to the said Burnham, within two days from this date, the son of the said Robert Burnham, named Ralph, in full life, and in good health of body and mind. And

BURNHAM.

me or trying to deceive me, or if you should practise fraud on me, or attempt to do so, you will surely regret it. And if that child be really in life, and you have been guilty of any cru

holding the paper close to his ey

s all right. I'm not very familiar with

om his chair, and was stri

ring him?" he as

ifted with miraculous powers. I will bring the boy her

s Tuesday. Will you h

y mor

afternoon,

exhibited, and putting them back into his hand-bag. Fina

you doing? You have no right

e given to you some time perhaps; b

ve them. Those things a

n, I say; pu

. If you force these things from me, you g

him that the man who holds his temper, in a contest like this, always has the best of it. And he was too shrewd not to see that his listener was laboring under an ex

, sir! I'll force you t

unished by the

fairly bring against me. Poverty is my worst crime. I have done nothing except for your benefit. Now, Mr. Burnham you are excited. Calm yourself and listen t

uce them. I will not deny

you may die before

hem. I can do without them if you will restore the chi

y afte

afternoon, t

l, sir; g

od

is chair, and, with his satchel in his hand, walke

s flushed face showing alternately the signs of the hope a

nterred, long afterward, where flowers might bloom above them. The last search had been made, the last clew followed, the last resources of wealth and skill were at an end, and these, these bones and trinkets were all that could be

cloak and the locket. Did it mean simply a renewal of the old hope,

would have given her life any time to have had her child restored to her, if only for a day. But she had been taught early to believe that he was dead It was better than to torture her heart with hopes

t that conies from a sun low in the west, when the days are long, and it illumined his face with a glow

office. Men were talking in an excited m

ident in the breaker

d of an a

on of fi

bout th

wn yet how man

the horses immediat

at the door now wi

te a hurried letter to his wife, took

breaker at once," he said,

and up the hill, and in less than twenty minutes he had

e mine were there, with pale faces and beseeching words. There was much confusion. It was difficult to keep the crowd fro

o the mine boss as he stepped

ere the fire-damp was, with a naked lamp, an' touched it off; an' then, most like, it run alon

e come out

when it went off. We found him up in the

the o

the after-damp is awful, an' we cou

men are

unt 'em; the re

to the sunlight. It was a rescuing party, just come from a vain attempt to save their unfortunate comrades. They w

'em a-groanin'; but the after-damp got-so bad-w

dangerously near to the mouth of the shaft. Women whose husbands were below were wrin

shall do all in our power to help those who are below. If they can be saved, we shall save them. Trust us and give us oppor

trong-limbed men, with courage stamped on their dust-soi

of the women; give us the safety-lamps, th

iage with the men who were going d

n't ye go! it'll be w

where I dare not go myse

hat instant a boy, a young slender boy, pushed his way through the encircling crowd, leaped

irst moment of surprise h

med, "Ralph, why h

plied the boy; "I had to come

p. These men are taking t

so little as mine. They've all got folks to live an' work for,

true knighthood had risen in his breast, had quenched all the coward in his nature, and impelled him, in that one moment that called for sacrifice and courage, to a deed as daring and heroic as any that the knights of old were ever prompted to perform.

e things in moments of sublimity to which at all other times their eyes are blinded. He thought of Craft's story; he thou

tives, desires were blotted from his mind. His desperate err

he boy's hand in both of his

nder, and the men who stood b

brought Burnham to himself. This was no time, no place to recognize the lad and take him t

? Here, soak the aprons; Ralph

were lying prostrate and in pain. They knew that the spaces through which they must pass to reach them were filled with poisonous gases, and that in those regions death lurked in ever

ir; and the people at the shaft's mouth waited, breathless with suspense, to see what the blackness would yield up to them. The carriage rose swiftly to the surface. On it four men, tottering and exhausted, were supporting an insensibl

alph, lad! here! brandy fo

ed wonderingly at the people who were looking d

he whispered, "

k 'im to the office; t

in' the

back with a

we found 'em an' brought 'em out. I carried the

o had suffered from the fire. They were blackened, burned, disfigu

est thing ye ever kenned. He plungit through the belt o' after-damp ahead o' all o' them, an' draggit us back across it, mon by mon, an'

he assembled crowds, and, with one instinct and one hope, all eyes were turned toward the little room wherein he lay. Men spoke in whispers; women were weeping softly; every face was set in pale expectancy. There were hundreds there who would have given all they had on

e and stood upon the steps. His head was bared and his eyes were filled

is d