the devotion
of the beautiful young lady, the daughter of one of the directors of
the road, who happened to be on the train, and who, "like a ministering
angel, held the head of the wounded man in her lap after he was taken
from the wreck." A good deal was made of this picture, which was
extensively copied.

Dick Rail's account, after he had come back from carrying the broken
body down to the old Upton place in the country, and helping to lay it
away in the old enclosure under the big trees on the hill, was this:

"By ----!" he said, when he stood in the yard, with a solemn-faced group
around him, "we were late, and I was just shaking 'em up. I had been
meaner'n hell to Jim all the trip (I didn't know him, and you all didn't
neither), and I was workin' him for all he was worth: I didn't give
him a minute. The sweat was rolling off him, and I was damnin' him with
every shovelful. We was runnin' under orders to make up, and we was just
rounding the curve this side of Ridge Hill, when Jim hollered. He saw
it as he raised up with the shovel in his hand to wipe the sweat off his
face, and he hollered to me, 'My God! Look, Dick! Jump!'

"I looked and Hell was right there. He caught the lever and reversed,
and put on the air and sand before I saw it, and then grabbed me, and
flung me clean out of the cab: 'Jump!' he says, as he give me a swing.
I jumped, expectin' of course he was comin' too; and as I lit, I saw him
turn and catch the lever. The old engine was jumpin' nigh off the track.
But she was too near. In she went, and the tender right on her. You may
talk about his eyes bein' bad; but by ----! when he gave me that swing,
they looked to me like coals of fire. When we got him out 'twarn't Jim!
He warn't nothin' but mud and ashes. He warn't quite dead; opened his
eyes, and breathed onct or twict; but I don't think he knew anything, he
was so mashed up. We laid him out on the grass, and that young lady took
his head in her lap and cried over him (she had come and seed him in
the engine), and said she knew his mother and sister down in the country
(she used to live down there); they was gentlefolks; that Jim was
all they had. And when one of them old director-fellows who had been
swilling himself behind there come aroun', with his kid gloves on and
his hands in his great-coat pockets, lookin' down, and sayin' something
about, 'Poor fellow, couldn't he 'a jumped? Why didn't he jump?' I let
him have it; I said, 'Yes, and i