The Portland daily press., 1896-10-09
FIGHTING JOE.
eWho and what was hep"

April not many years ago
l was a stranger In that part of the
country and was passing through the place
In the course of long walk from the lar
ger adjacent town to which my business
had taken me the day before
The extensive mining operations of the
last 10 or Is years had altered the unpre-
tending place materially, and, though the
quaint old church and some long and low
buildings, suggestive of farms and home
steads, still retained an air of rustic sim
plicity, they were being gradually OBJ
scured, the place itself sophisticated by the
formal rows of plain and ugly tenements,
built expressly for the mining population,
which every year was becoming more and
more numerous
/ had amused myself by deciphering
some of the Inscriptions on the grave
stones, we'll nigh obliterated by the wealth
er stains and the moss that time had suf
fered to find roof hold in the hollows of
the lettering, when man, presumably a
miner, in the Sunday clothes peculiar to
that class, carrying little child of 3 or
years, and followed by another somewhat
older, seated himself on fiat stone and
opened conversation
A civilly spoken fellow enough, though
with the uncouth accent Of the country.
l readily accepted the invitation he Of
fered, and we ohatted pleasantly.
He had known the place many years, he
told me-aye, long before it had grown in
to the town 1t now was-when 1t was moth
ing but humble village, and when the
long grass or ripening corn bowed its head
to the wind on the spot where the I'M
slightly engine house and tall, red chimney
now stood, and where the heaps OF Stag
and cinder marked the busy life of the
toilers in the earth below.
That handsome marble monument, he
told me, denoted the last resting place Of
the late rector, and this massive piece OF
granite was the tomb of a certain local
squire, popularity known as esquire Jack, ,"
who, it seemed, was much given to horse
racing, cockfghting and such kindred
sports, and who, being sad "ne'er do
well,' thoughtless, reckless fellow, but
withal good natured and easy going, was,
as such gentry not unfrequently are, the
most popular member of his family.
AS my new acquaintance pointed out
these objects and others which he thought,
I suppose, would interest me he had risen
from his seat and we had strolled through
the churchyard.
It was Ia q corner and rather In hollow
that, before humble mound of green turf
and decked with the pretty spring flowers,
carefully placed in the form OF cross, we
both, as Of one accord, paused. 1t had not
any gravestone, but only piece Of wood,
supported by two short uprights. On this
was roughly carved, as If with a pocket
knife, these two words: Fighting Joe.'
''That is a strange inscription to put
over mans grave" said and then add
ed, "Who and what was he2"
The man seated himself on a stone close
by and was silent for few seconds.
He had set down the child he had been
carrying, and the two little children, at
tracted by the bright flowers, had found
their way to the mound and were about to
gather them.
Here, you mustn't touch them flow
ers," he said, and taking hand of each
led them away.
"Well, mate" he then went on to say to
me in reply to my question, II don fright
ly know who or what he was. He was a
stranger down here, and neither me nor
my mates ever heard tell where he came
from or who he was.
when this here pit-Fenton's pit, we
call twas first worked, we had but few
hands horoabouts, and men as could work
had no call to wait long for a job and got
good wages as well Most of the har Is
were from Staffordshire,s but we never
knowed where Joe came from, and don t
know az we asked, and p'raps he wouldn't
have told US IL we had.
He was quiet and lonelylike and said
but little-that is, when he was all right
but when he'd had drop of drink, as
maybe Of Sunday night when he had
gotten his wage, of all the hands ever
see to swear, spend his money or fight there
wasn't one like Fighting Joe''
and hence his name, supposep' I
asked. "And. u course. 1t is the old story
again drink, a quarrel and violent
death, though cannot understand in that
case the evident care that is bestowed on
the poor fellows tomb, such as it isl
No, SIR" the man said gravely, after a
moments pause mot quite ali that A
violent death, yes, and such death as l
might pray God might ne'er happen to the
worst Of as. but it WASH It drink, nor a
quarrel, nor q fight with another man,
that brought him to it. 1t was more the
other way, poor lad-more the other wayl''
The rough fellow beside me said this
with a gentleness of tone and manner that
was sufficiently out Of keeping with his
appearance to excite some degree of curl
osity, and told him I should like to hear
moro of the story.
"It's not much as such as you might
care for, the man replied.
Here, " he said, turning to the little
ones, who were strsying toward the green
mound again, you mustn't touch them
posies. thou knowest. Go and gst some of
them" And he jerked small piece Of coal
he had in his hand toward where some
daisies and dandelions were growing in
among the rank grass.
HE worked in Fenton's pit along of
me, and, though we never had angry words,
many and many day would pass and nei-
ther him nor me would speak. He was
quick, as 1 said, and when he hadn't had
drink would keep hisseH to ilisself There
was lass living in these parts then, and
Fighting Joe was fond of her. 1 don't
know that he had said much to her, but
we could see he was about as fond of that
lass as lad could we'll be- I know that,
for mother was living then. and this lass
would often be between her house and
ours.