The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1901-07-15

Wednesday, July 10-Thcre is one bird on the
on the bodies of the fallen, made the
scene a horrfying one. Suddenly,
there was a loud shout as the form of
old Bill was seen endeavoring wildly
to extricate himself from the strug-
Cling mass. A big sturdy fellow,
whose face was spattered with blood,
swung his club high in the air and
brought it down upon his grey head,
which cracked under the blow like an
eggshell.
A detachment of the militia, which
had been summoned, now arrived, and
the strikers took to their heels.
The friends of the victims of the
riot removed the injured ones, and the
bodies of the dead We're claimed and
carried off, as some sorrowing relative
came upon the scene. Two fellows
standing by, whose hearts We're
touched at the sight of old Bill lying
friendless and staring fixedly up at
the evening sky, procured a stretcher
and placing the limp form upon it,
carried it to his home.
The sight of poverty which met their
eyes upon entering in no way surprised
them,f for they were acquainted enough
with his penurious ways to know that
he denied himself even some of the
necessities of life. AS they laid the
body on a ragged cot, which stood in
the corner of the bare room. a letter
dropped from the inner pocket of his
coat to the floor. 1t was addressed to
him in womans handwriting. and
was still unopened. He had probably
got it sometime that day while at
work, for it was the custom of the
operator, since work began, to send to
| the postofflce for the mail of his men
| that they might not expose themselves
to the injury of the strikers.
| Curiosity getting the best of them,
one smeared his fingers with coal dirt,
TO make it appear that Bill had opened
it, tore off the edge of the envelope,
and removed the letter. 1t ran:
W College, June Il, IS.
Dear Father.
| | cannot fnd in my heart another name for you
| although the good Did priest, Father Wharton
| has told me ALL which, briefly, is
| "My father, who is more other than the author
| o that anonymous novel, THE B---s which
| took the public by storm scme twelve years since,
was at that time living happily with his wife
| and child in little town in the western part
| Of Pennsylvania. Being naturally reticent and
| uncommunicatiyc, although good at heart, he
made few literary or other friends 50, when my
| poor mother wrongcd him he had none 10 con.
! sole him but his little ch,ld, who was then four
| years old. His spirit broken by the blow, and
| his ambition dead, he began a wandering lie
| through the state, doing doggedly here and there
some odd little literary jobs to secure food aid
clothing for his child, who alone bound him to
| life, and liquor TO deadcn his memory Of happier
| days
| after a year Of this life he met man who
| had yearned tor knowledge in his younger days,
| which circumstances and his environment per,
sstently denied him until he, too, Lad come o
| consider life a failure.
''Ihcre sprung up between these two a mutual
friendship that lasted till death parted tlcm.
One drank in the learning he hal wished for, as
it fell from the lips Of the other AMI loved the
| giver. The other found IN his companion the re.
| sponsive consoling, and friendly nature that
| could have reclaimed him had not the same de-
mon mastered both.
| "l'pon the death Of one, the other seeing the
child would be taken from him, as he was not
its father and exposed to the necessity OF recev-
ing an education at the hands Of charity, lie de.
cidcd TO take the burden upon his own shoulders
unaided, Accordingly one night he carried the
child to a friend with instructions 10 place it in
a certain institution where il would be maintained
| at his expense. At the end OF four years the
child was removed, and entered in a more pre-.
tentious school, 10 receive the education Of a
lady, while the man who was more than "a
thcr to her, toiled amid the cers of his com
panions, earning only he appcllation of 'miser.' "
Such did the old priest tell me was my life.
Two nights ago he says you came TO his house
and told him all, as you feared you would meet
death at the hands of the strikers.
God forgive me, 1t was my greedy call for
money that drove you back to work in the face
Of danger, You led me 10 believe, through your
goodness Of heart, that my father was alive. but
understand now why | was never taken home
or why my father never came to visit me- Tht
photograph you sent me years ago. Father whar
ton Says, is a picture OF my father.
! wept until thought my heart would break
as he told me Of the life OF sacrifice you led