New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1876-10-21
been to-day foremost in the support of Ruther-
ford b. Hayes.
THO NAVELESS MEN.

~
We find in the local columns of our ex-
changes these fragments of the history OF two
men which seem TO us worth repeating, even
in the noisy rumors Of impending wars IN
Europe or of the retgrns of our own STATE
elections The story claims attention and bears
its meaning, although it concerns only TWO
obscure and nameesS men, the one mechahlc,
the other a druggists clerk. The latter, lad
Charley is the only name gven), was rev
weeks ago prescription clerk in Llppmans
drug store in Savannah. Not a place where
any career of heroism is likely to open before
a young fellow, or where glory of any KIND
would await him. "Charley" apparently had
no thought of heroism or glory; he only put
up prescriptions, as it was his business 10 90
When the yellow fever broke out, the owner
and whole force of the shop left-all but the
bookkeeper and Charley, who quietly contin-
ued putting up prescriptions. At last the
bookkeeper fled, and Lippman, by letter, or
dered Charley to close the shop, his friends III
Augusta urging him at the same time to come
to them. But he said, Somebody must give
medicine to these people; I'll not leave my
work. and went to the other drug store,
Claws, and worked there, day and night.
Clay took the fever and died, Charley nursing
him. His cook took the fever, and young
friend, Symons. Charley nursed them both
until they recovered, giving out at the same
time thousands of prescriptions daily. He
wrote to his mother, have not had time to
take my clothes off for weeks" After
Symons was up Charley took the fever. His
friend, still weak from illness, nursed him In
his turn, telegRphing twenty times day to
his friends in Augusta, "Charley improving"
With good care will phil through " Charley
is worse" The last kilograms were, 81 will
stick to him to the last" 81 will not sleep
tonight" But lie did sleep. The next
morning the two brave lads we're found to-
gether-dead.
About the same time the terrible explosion
of the Sable Iron Mills in Pittsburgh took
place, and this is part of the account given in
the daily papers "The assistant engineer was
found speeches., his hand grasDlng the
throttle of the engine with such force that
cit required two men to remove him. He
Knight have escaped in time to save himself,
but his idea was that he could avert the
catastrophe from the workmen by turning off
"the steam. His terror was extreme, and no
wonder He died an hour later" The man
whose terror was extreme, and who yet stood
at his post when he might have escaped, was
Il hero with qualities beside which mere brute
courage is mean.
Why do we tell he story of these two men
of whom we are not able to preserve even the
namcs7 Simply because their chance for a
noble death and great deed in dying may
come to any one of us. In old times knights
bucklcd Oh their armor and went out in pub
lie TO win renown even the crown of martyr
dom was won by the help of the heroic glow
of lofty excitement "a great cloud of WIT
" nesses," tyrants, saints, and angels looking
on. Nowadays, men and women have their
daily monotonOus work set before them. 1t is
plain, hard duty that is called for, seldom
feyerish heroism. We believe that in the pur-
suit of that duty men are trained year by year
to greater sacrifices; that when life is called
for, as in these two cases, it is quietly Offered
with no thought of fame or applause, but
simply as a matter of course Poets and TO-
mancers sing of Roman courage and
medieval chivalry, but we should like
American boys to look into the secret Of this
plain matter-of-fact duty and the doing of
it. The young knight, keeping vigil, praying
all night in the lonely chapel in his white
robes, going out in the morning to receive his
sword and spurs, is always a most heroic,
cnyiable figure in their eyes. But what of
this druggist clerk Charley, who had not time
to change his clothes, nursing his friend and
a moor negro through lOathsOme disease,
hurrying from his bed to the shop to deal
out medicines to the plague-strcken city,
and living down, worn out at last, to die
There was no hope of accOlade, no fame wait
ing for him in the back room of the little
drug shop. He knew his duty and he did it.
And if it was not after the high old Roman
fashion, it was after nobler and better
WAY. and Death was proud to take him.
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