Warrensburg Latham High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Warrensburg, IL)

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“No, I couldn’t think of accepting money for a little act of human kindness. But how you have changed. You don’t look like the same man.” “Well, I have tried to make myself look a little more presentable, and am glad if I have succeeded. But I wish you would take this money,” the man answered, offering her a dollar bill. “Oh, I couldn’t think of it, and besides, it wasn’t worth that much,” said Miss Mary. “At least allow me to thank you. I believe you saved me from starving, that day. But I won’t bother you any longer; good day,” and he started toward the road. Miss Mary turned away, thinking to herself: “How like Dick he looked, and yet, it couldn’t be he, for surely I haven’t changed so much that he wouldn’t recognize me.” Puzzling over this, she failed to notice that the man met at the gate with Alice, who had just come home from school, which she was now regularly attending. The child gave one look at the man, and then threw herself upon him, crying “Papa, papa!” He looked at her in perplexity and said, “Oh, no; I’m not your papa. I haven’t any little girl.” “Oh, yes, you are. Don’t you remember how we were riding on a train and it turned over?” He pressed his hand over his forehead and stood silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said, “Oh, yes, it all comes back to me now. Oh, my dear little Alice! to think I had forgotten all about you!” “Come into the house and let’s tell Aunt Mary all about it,” said she, taking him by the hand and leading him in. What a scene there was then! Explanations were made, forgiveness established on both sides and time was forgotten. Dick, in answer to Miss Mary’s question as to what he had been doing for the last fifteen years, told his story: “When I left you I was very angry, for I thought you were in the wrong. I went to Chicago and tried to lose myself in that great city and forget you. In a fit of resentment I married a girl whom I met there. I never really loved her, but she was a good wife to me. Our first child, a boy, died, and three years ago she died, leaving me little Alice, then about three and a half. But the thot of you haunted me continually. I wanted to come back, but feared you would still be angry and unforgiving. “But at last I could stand it no longer, and was on my way when, as you know, the train was wrecked. I received a blow on the head which destroyed my memoiy. I could remember nothing of my past life. I became a tramp, roaming about the country, and doing odd jobs to pay for my meals. You know the rest, how my memory came back with the sight of Alice.” The couple were married soon after, and their happiness was all the sweeter for the delay. 28

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great wreck on the railroad, which was about a mile away from the house. She said it had been caused by a collision, and that many were killed or badly hurt, altho some had escaped uninjured. Miss Mary left little Alice in the care of a neighbor and went with the woman to the scene of the wreck to assist in caring for the injured. Then, and several days later, she made inquiries, and tried to find the child’s father, but failing, she concluded that he must be among the unidentified dead. She determined that if no one came to claim little Alice, she would keep her. The little girl said she was six years old. She was a very attractive child, with dark brown, bobbed hair and blue eyes. Miss Mary lavished all a mother’s care on her, and she became happy and contented, altho at first she missed her father greatly. Six months passed swiftly. One afternoon Miss Mary heard a knock at the door. Going to open it, she saw a tramp, who asked if she could give a hungry man a bite to eat. “Yes, poor fellow; come in. I never refuse a meal to anyone who needs it, and I think you do,” she replied. She soon had a good meal before the tramp. He ate carefully and politely, but could not conceal the fact that he had been nearly famished. His clothes looked as if they had once been an expensive suit, but were now very ragged and dirty. He had evidently not shaved for at least two months, and had a luxuriant growth of whiskers. When he had finished eating, he thanked her, saying it was the best meal he had had for a long time. Then he asked if she had any wood to chop, or other piece of work that he could do to repay her. “No, I don’t believe I have,” she replied. “But thank you for the offer. Why don’t you get work on a farm this winter? There are many farmers now needing a hand, for instance, there’s my nearest neighbor, Mr. Kennedy. I think he would hire you.” “I believe I will ask him,” said the tramp. “It would give me a place to stay this winter, and I’m getting tired of tramping. Where does he live?” Miss Mary pointed out the house to the man and he walked off toward it. She returned to her work and thought no more about the incident. But about two weeks later she again heard a knock. She peeped out a window to see who it was before answering, and almost fainted, for she recognized Dick Taylor. Conquering her emotion, she opened the door. But the man did not appear to recognize her, and to her amazement spoke as follows: “Madam, I am the tramp whom you befriended some time ago. I got the job at Mr. Kennedy’s we were talking about, and since I have earned some money, I wish to repay you.” 21

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How the “Lucy Dale” Bridge Got its Name Flossie Haywood, 22 in the spring of 1880 a very severe series of rainstorms, that lasted for da.ys and days, swept over the country surrounding Peoria. The storms swelled the rivers and creeks until they overflowed, washing everything before their swollen currents and threatening the very existence of every bridge. Mr. Dale, a section foreman on the Illinois Central Railway, in the state of Illinois, was kept very busy watching the rise of waters between the two towns in his section of the line and inspecting the railway bridges. On the evening of April 20, the storm had seemed to reach the climax of its fury. The wind howled around the cottage, which was built high on the bank of the Illinois river at a spot overlooking the railway. The rain pelted on the roof and as the dark, moonless night came on, occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the trees, the raging waters, and the long bridge built on trestles over the ravine. Lucy, the beautiful sixteen year old daughter of Mr. Dale, standing at the window, was a spectator of this terrible storm. She thought of her father out in the storm—exposed to the wind and rain. Then her imagination traveled on and on in an endless train of hideous sights. She knew by heart the times of all the trains, and swiftly her thoughts flew to the oncoming “Express,” always so full of passengers. She pictured the train falling through the bridge, down, down, thirty feet into the foaming chasm below. She imagined she could almost see the white faces of gasping, struggling people in those muddy, raging depths—and could even hear their faint cries for help above the noise of the shrieking wind and the roaring water. She awoke from her trance with a thrill of terror that seemed to chill the marrow of her very bones. She felt she could endure the uncertainty no longer, and that she simply must go to find her father, and see if she could not be of help to him in some way. With an encouraging word to her troubled mother and frightened sister, she began making her preparations to go. She put on a large coat, lighted a lantern, opened the cottage door and stepped out. Even though the wind almost blew her away, and the rain beat against her face, she braced herself against all difficulties and slowly made her way westward toward the long trestle bridge. When Lucy leached the nearer end of the bridge, she saw that the swollen river, tearing under the arches, thirty feet below, was momentarily threatening to undermine the foundations of the bridge. As she proceeded over the bridge, she began to feel the structure sway under her own weight. She knew it would only be the lapse of a few moments until 29