The weekly examiner., 1901-08-24

Cornishtown a third of his own saw 1 ingS which he had stored mp for the winter to take him through the strike.
 But 1t was not about the tyne of Chris tlarity that Stuart was thinking as he
 sat there. T. was about hls relations | with these raca with whom he was now associated ns a member of the
 body of Christ. If he had been grow ing more and more to believe that he was his brothers keeper ever since the death of his father, much more now, especially since his conversion and this days communion. Andrews prayer touched on that The service was very
 impressive.
 At its close Stuart asked Andrew if he might say a word, and very simply but strongly he stated his Christian faith and asked for the prayers of the church that strength and wisdom might be given him to live the true life of a disciple. His words Gs he stood there in all the strength and glory of his young manhood touched the
 men deeply. They did not show it
 much, but they felt it and talked of 1t
 on their way home. Such a scene had not been known in Champion in their | lifetime.
 In spite of all this and the tremen-
 dous hold that Stuart was obtaining
 over the men the union held for its
 original terms and showed no signs of
 weakening. The Salvation Army still continued to exercise it's restraining influence over the majority, although the drinking was increasing. Almost the only hope Stuart had now was that the Cleveland owners would be com
 pelled to yield before the winter was over owing to the demand for ore
 which for the last weeks had been in- creasing. He had little expectation that the full demand of the miners would be granted, for he remembered that in the history of strikes very few large strikes had ever been successful But he hoped the owners might make such concessions that the union would agree to go back on q large rise in pre- vious wages.
 So the week following communion Sunday opened with special meaning to Stuart. It was a memorable week for Champion. The fever epidemic had reached its height. Most of its victims were children. The number of deaths daily was appalling. Andrew, Eric, the doctor, the nurses, Rhena and Stu art, with all the available help from the Christian people in the town, were battling with the enemy with all the might of skill and the exercise of all that money and watchfulness could accomplish.
 Stuart and Rhena had met several times that week. Nearly always it was by the side of some dead or dying child They said little. Each seemed to be waiting for something. Rhena was worn and thin, but there had come into her eyes a look she dared not let Stuart see. The winter had it's infiu- ence in addition to all this to repress and bear down the hearts of the peo- pie. Never had such snowdrifts been known in Champion CT -sueh seFere cold. The nights set in with bitter winds sweeping down the hills, and after the evening train had plowed it's way out of the station on its dreary trip westward Champion seemed to be abandoned by God and man. All con- nection with the outer world seemed cut off, the iron hills shut down hard and close about the town, and the long, terrible night began, a night of agony to those who lived and those who died. The date of the great strike and the great fever will never be forgotten by the children who were left untouched by the grim death.
 One night that week Stuart had come home very late, thoroughly exhausted, with the frost chill in his bones, the benumbing sense of his responsibility weighing him down and his heart cry ing out, 70 Lord, how long, how long" He had gone up to his room and had sunk into a heavy sleep. He wakened between and o'clock with a feeling of something wrong. 1t was so press ing that he rose and dressed and went to the window that looked out on the town. The night was one of the bitter est ever known The wind was blow ing an icy gale through the valley. Even the Duncan mansion, warmed as 1t was with the best and most expen- sive apparatus, felt the shock of the almost solid cold that struck through everything.
 Suddenly Stuart saw a light in the lower end of Cornishtown. The min ers' houses or cabins there were built for the most part of logs or slabs from the mill. They were crowded very close together at the lower part of the town. As he looked the light famed up higher, and his heart bounded as he realized that one of the cabins was on fire. The horror of it as he considered what such an accident meant on such a night stupefied him, but only for a second. The next instant he was down stairs, had flung himself into his over coat, was out of the house and speed ing down the road.
 When he reached the square, lights were springing up in the windows all about. The alarm had reached the people. and they were rising. By the time he reached Cornishtown half q l.o l,ln ian min.