This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1902 Excerpt: ... have yet to attain. HE train of sleeping-cars is rushing on toward 1 the broken bridge at fifty miles an hour. The trusty, wakeful engine-driver peers ahead into the darkness. VIII I The young mother in the upper berth turns over, presses her babe to her, and dreams again. In five minutes they will all be palpitating ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1902 Excerpt: ... have yet to attain. HE train of sleeping-cars is rushing on toward 1 the broken bridge at fifty miles an hour. The trusty, wakeful engine-driver peers ahead into the darkness. VIII I The young mother in the upper berth turns over, presses her babe to her, and dreams again. In five minutes they will all be palpitating masses of bloody flesh and bones, drowned in the water and burned in the fire. The Atlantic liner plows her way through the fog. There is a babel of merry voices in the saloon where the passengers are at dinner. No one knows that a fishing-schooner is heading directly for her. Suddenly there is a crash, and a great gash is torn in her side. The sea pours in, and she begins to settle. In a few seconds all are on deck--pale, appalled, frantic. The captain on the bridge sees that there is no time to lower the boats, but he gives the order notwithstanding. Mothers are searching for their children; children are looking to their parents for consolation, but the stream of consolation is dried at its source. Strong men are sobbing, and nothing is left but dread. Instinct tells them that no one will survive to tell the tale. I can not love the God who might have warned the engine-driver and the captain of the danger, and who would not. I love the God who weeps over it within me and whose tears I feel. Godward 1 HEARD a horrid cry in the dark--Was it an owl flitting from tree to tree? It said, "The life can not be lived. Go on," it said, "and you will come to grief amid impassable obstacles. Your soul is crucified upon your body. You are nailed to a rigid, perverse world. All nature turns thumbs down at your combat.' And my soul saw that it was true, but it felt stronger and prouder than ever. ' Then the world and nature must go under, ' i...
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