El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1900-05-05
-. 80. A.. A. 80. -".A -"-.A.."..
STRONG IN DEATH" !
Copyright. 1909. by ERIN ETaydm,an.
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His WAS the not unusual story of the
young man. smart. active. industrious, a
good story teller. jolly companion, fond
OF his fellow man and II drink with hln
Added to this, Frank Morrison belonged
to the most exclusive company in the
volunteer fire organization. When he
became i'll. the doctor came to see him at
the truckhouse. 1t was his only home.
He was Il bachelor, and he 'bunked"
there from choice.
His illness was of the long, lingering
kind. He would get better and sit out in
the sun III front of the door for days and
sit up with the boys" in the truckhouse
at night. 1t was n roistering, hard
drinking company of young men, as SO
many of the volunteer companies were.
Then Morrison would get Il bad spell"
and the physician would order him to
bed again. Sometimes he lay there for
weeks at time. He began to get dis
coura ged
The boys" were very kind to him.
All his money was gone, but he never
lacked for anything he wanted, and the
truck company was responsible for the
doctors bills and the expenses of nurs-
ing. He got TO thinking about all these
things while he lay there alone. He re-
allied that he a dependent. Brood
ing over this. he came to the conclusion
finally that he was no more than char
no good to himself.
He had some cause for real regrets,
too, as he reviewed his life. He saw
wasted opportunities at every stage. For
the sake of being "a good fellow" he
had sacrificed all the social ties that were
about him when he Joined 1.-The Hooks"
He said bitterly to himself that there
wasn't Il decent woman in the city whom
he could call his friend. His mother was
dead: that was one cause for conSratula-
ton. She never would know that her
frStborn was far away from the SIM
pie. peaceful. honest life that his coun-
try training and his mothers love and
watchfulness had started him out on.
He was "A useless incumbrance on the
earth, he decided.
Then the thought came, Why not end
the whole miserable failure that he had
made of life? Why not make room in
the world for "A better man?
When once the thought of suicide
takes possession of n Respondent man,
his broodings become almost n pleasure.
When Morrison had pitied himself for a
week in this kind of self communion, the
taking of his life seemed the most nat
ural and proper thing in the world to do.
The river ran at the foot Of the street,
only a block away from the truckhouse.
One night about o'clock he was alone
In the house, and he turned down the
gas, closed and locked the door and start
ed down toward the water.
His mind fully made up. There
was no hesitancy when he came to the
edge of the pier. The water did not
appeal to him looking inviting or well
coming; neither did it look repellant. 1t
was the means he had decided upon long
ago-it seemed to him it was ages ago
to blot out the particular atom of hui
mainly that he represented. But he
stopped on the edge of the pier and took
off his coat and hat.
He no more could have told you why
he did this than could any other hope |
less soul that chooses death by drown |
ing explains why it is the most natural
thing in the world to throw off some gar |
ment before taking the fatal plunge. 1t
is so. 1t is done in every such attempt at |
suicide that the police and eoroners in |
New York and in every other city on this |
continent ever investigate.
Morrison laid his coat, neatly folded, |
on the stringpiece and placed his hat on /
the pile. Then he walked to the edge, |
and as he balanced there between earth |
and eternity the great fire bell in the |
truckhouse tower began to peal and |
clang.
1t had been his call to duty, the one |
great ''must" command that his whole |
being had responded to for ten or a doz- |
en- years. His ears were constantly on |
the alert TO hear it's order. He had run |
from a reception, leaving dancing part |
ner in the middle Of ballroom alone, |
when the tower bell sounded. He had |
dropped the ledger, the wineglass, the |
half tasted meal when he heard that bell. |
With one bound he gathered up the |
coat and hat and was on his way back |
to the truckhouse with flying feet. He |
had the door opened and the rope run |
out from the truck by the time half |
dozen other Of the fremen came dashing |
up from as many directions.
They looked at the sick man curiously, |
but there was no time for comment. The
Trojan Hooks never had been beaten to
q fire, and they must not be now, II it
took blood and even life to get there
first.
The run was a long one, but the laurels
of the old company were preserved. And
flor this is n true story Frank Morrison
drank beer with the boys when all had
returned to the house that night and
pledged himself to be a well man again.
Today he is an estimable citizen of the
same town, and he told me this story
York Press.
Thought He Was In India
As a consequence of the frequency with
which venomous snakes are met with in
India Anglo-Indians spend their whole
~, ;,1Ir 1f ha,r ofch. /