The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1902-02-01
The Gold-Miner's Story.

7 AMT q sentimental sorter coon,
by no manner O. means, and what's
more, 1 never purtended as I were.
A incident that 1 knows of, though,
for downright sentimentality beats
anything ever heerd tell of. Even
now, though it happened long time
ago-somewhere back about the fall
of ST. can't recollect it without q
chokin' lump rises inter me gullet and
me eyes become sorter moist. It's
yarn of what Teller done COS he
thought it was his dooty and COS he
loved a gal.
Yes, tell yer, there's dramas en-
acted in SIGH lives as ourn which, it
they was performed on the stage,
those pale-faced clever noospaper
knowalls, or cricEets, or whatever
they calls 'emselves, would say it was
unnatural, and could never have hap
pened in rale life. But they'd be mis-
took for all that, COS this here yarn
is gospel.
"l'll tell yer 'xactly how it come
about. 1t was at Davidson's Creek
as wild and brown and lonesome To-
cality as ever mortal man clapped
eyes on-all level and sandy and mo-
not'nous.
They was wild, harum-scarum lot
of boys collected there, too, I gives
yer my word. OF course, when gold
is located at place, yer wouldn't ex-
pect very high-class serciety; and Da-
Wilson's Creek were no exception,
unless it were worse than most if
anythink. Nigh every soul there was
wrong 'un.
Wa, Tim Bennett, though-yer
could hardly call him wrong 'un.
He was a short, insignificant, little
shrimp of q Teller, with chivvy yer
couldn't help likin', and the most In
formally bad luck Us ever logged q
miner. He had smile and a kind
word fer everyone, and honestly
b'lieve he would have given his last
penny to pard who was down on his
luck. We mostly called him the "par-
son." not that he was extry religious,
but COS he was so much better'n the
rest of us, and had never been known
to cuss for more'n half q minute at
. time.
The fellers at first used ter take
vantage of him, but it wer'n't long
fore he showed us he could use his
fists or his shooter as well as the
best of us.
Then there were Nelly Bell-or
Hanky Bells darter. She were a good
one, and no mistake. She were al
ways mending or patching fer some
one. or making a fine appetizin' stew
out of some of our tough stack" fer
some Teller that was took sick. We
used ter fairly worship her, but she'd
have nothing ter do with us. She
was dead gone on the "parson," and
the on'y one that didn't know it was
the "parson" hisself.
Wal, to be gettin' along. One day
Denis O'Brien were a-comin' back to
camp after bit of saunter round,
when Nelly comes runnin' up ter him,
her eyes all red and swollen with
cryin'.
"Denis," she sobbed, "yer are q
well-plucl<ed 'un, and wants yer ia
help me. Will yer?"
Off comes Denis's hat in an instant
"Want me hellup, do ye, Nelly
Shure, if We on'y say, of with yel
head, Denis,' bedad OH do it jist t.
show We that Oh name bis'ness. And
what have We been cryin' yer purity
eyes out for, and what are We afthel
wantin' me to do?"
"Oh, Denis, it's awful. They've beer
and got the 'parson' at Shades saloon
and they're jest a-goin' ter string hin
up. Yer know Dan Black. It pear
he keeps all his money in two blacl
boxes, marked D. B. One of then
boxes has been found empty under
heap of clothes in the 'parson's' tent
and they're sayin' he's done it. Blu
It amt him, Denis. I'll stake all ~
got it amt him. I has my suspicion
a. ter who it is; in fac I'm prett
sure; but, yer see, can't prove II
Yer will help me, Denis, won't yer, o
pard?"
"But what dye ixpict me to d
Nelly?"
"Do? I've been up ter the saloo
and tried ter git him of, but it ain
no go. They says the suspicious
too much agen him-they wan
proofs, and unless they're brought tn
law must take it's course. And ca
bring proofs. Yes, Denis, will brin
proofs. So what want yer to
is ter stop 'em fer half an hour. B
that time I'll bring my proofs, and
I can't-then Heaven help poor Tint
''Nelly, tell me. Why do ye tal
all this INTEREST in the 'parson'?"
There was no answer.
cts bel1ase We love him.
''Denis, ye're right-it u.s." 90,
Nelly.
The Irishman weren't no saint, an
when he heard this his soul was file
with jealousy. A bitter fight toe
place tween his honor and love, al
it weren't long fore love KEN o,
on top. Why should be sacrifive ever
think Jest fer this mincing ''parson'
Presently he looked up and sale
"Nell, darlint, ashamed of meself
am, but OF can't help it at all. Pla
f don't think too bad of me, but OF mu
x tell ye. OF love 70 mesilf. There
the trooth. Look at the matth
from commonsinse point Of vie
He's penniless and OF has daca'