Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1874-02-12

know what III mas uOnc ioi iuo' y. A
made the dark, damp breasts glisten
| with sunshine! and, in the dripping OF
| the water as II forces its way through the
rocks of the mine have heard only the
singing of birdsp
But the practical father was unmoved
by the eloquent appeal OF the young
| lover. and still persisted In his determine
| ton. and with heart almost breaking
| Harry left him. Oh /! how dark everything
looked! Emily was lost Yes, lostl ne
| cried. and, like the wall OF sorroWing ma.
! ,ure, came back the echo, lostf
Only rough miner, but too honorable 10
| marry her clandestinely.
Far out OF the village, IN wild spot IN
the heart of one of the mountains, the boy
went, and there alone with his GOD ne
had his bitter hour, and passed into the
| shadow from which he was never 70
| emerge. Twas all he had, this girl love.
| All that he had 10 Tighten his heavy laDor
| his some eve lamb, /" and that was 10 DC
taken from him. How he cursed ms
poverty, and lamented his bitter iate'
| Then ne cursed the hard, hard father ;
but paused in his denunciation, Tor there
was something in his breast that told MIN
this was wrong.
That night the good folk of the place
| missed the accustomed sight OF Harry ana
Emily taking the regular evening walk.
They never saw them together again! his
story had soon became pu bic, and popu-
| lar sympathy, Of course, was all with the
lovers. SuDdry valiant young fellows
counseled Harry 70 a runaway match,
and were disguised with him when ne
refused to listen TO their advice. the ola
people said it was "hard," and the case
was made the special talk that night at
the "Miner's Home" in which Emiiy's
| fathers ears must have burned, If there
| is any truth in the old belief that such
phenomenon is observable when some one
| Is speaking Ill of you.
The next morning Emily had left the
place. Not willingly, as Harry knew, for
he had in the bosom of his soiled flannel
shirt letter which was dearer to him
than all the golden golcondas that were
| ever dreamed Of A tiny epistle, written
in timer hand, telling OF her sorrow
of her undying love. How her father had
| sent her away. ito forget her foolishness;"
| but how she would never forget him, but
would love him better every day, and
! would continue 10 love him forever.
But she didn't After about year and
| half of absence, II was noised around
| that Emily was married, and at last the
| report was confirmed. In one of the large
| cities Of the East she had found the ac-
| auaintance of one who soon caused her to
| forget her poor miner love, and with
hardly regret she yielded to the impor-
tunities of her admirer and her parents,
and became this new mans wife.
When it became known in the place
that "pretty Emily" had forgotten Harry,
| all eyes were turned on the young man to
see how he would bear it. Though his
heart must have been torn and bleeding,
| vet he gave no outward sign, but went on
as usual with his everyday life. The
speculation which had promised to be so
successful had been given up, as when he
| lost Emily he seemed to have lost all en-
| ergy. He had gone back to his hard work
| In the mine, and, what seemed stranger
to some, he was working In the colliery at
| which the father Of his loved one was the
superintendent.
A misty, rainy dayl Around the mouth
of the shaft the men were idly gathering,
| waiting the coming of the cage that was
to take them down to their daily labor.
The gloom that wrapped the world made
no difference TO them, for where they were
going II was always dark and sunless.
One of the old miners, veteran in the
service, who was fitting on an empty
bucket, smoking, turned to his partner
and said:
"Do We mind the day, Patsy, when the
Horton mine blowed upy'
Patsy, laying aside his pick, which he
had been attentively examining, looked
up, and replied:
"Well [ do, Jimmy! It's never l
thought you nor / would be alive to tell
about it!''
"That was one awful day, boys" con-
tinued the first speaker. "There was
weepin' and cryin' in the village that
same night Eighty of us strong, hearty
men went down into the breasts in the
morning, and how many do you think
came up alive?"
The old man paused, and, taking his
pipe out of his mouth, looked around
among his audience as if he were expect
ing some one 10 give guess. There was
no reply, and he went on:
"There was Just ten of us-that's all
Just ten men came up alive. You can
count it yourself, how many was lost"
"'Twas there your father was killed,
Harry" said the man they called Patsy,
turning to the lad.
eyes, know all about it; too WE'LL"
sorrowfnlV replied the young man.
HE was a fine man, your father was, !"
continued Patsy, "He might have save,
himself, only he went back to help his
friend"
"Yes, sir he died to save his friend"
said the other. you'll never be such a
man as your father before you was, my
boy"
That was the opinion they all had of
him, for weakness and seeming effemi-
nancy were damning faults in these mems
eyes, and Harry knew that in their heart
of hearts they considered him cowardly
and imbecile. He felt it was false.
Something within him told that if the
hour should come when his manhood
was to be tried, he would, despite his del
icate frame, not be found wanting.
The arrival of the carriage that was to
convey them down into the pit cut short
all further conversation, and picking up
their tools, the hands prepared to de-
scend.
Harry and his partner began work at
their allotted place in the breast. Merrily
| rang the picks, and loudly through those
long avenues echoed the singing of some
whose spirits neither damp nor darkness