Idaho Springs siftings., 1902-10-11


things are mercifully hidden from our
view-just as well that we need only
grapple with each difficulty as it ap-
pears in view, instead of crossing
bridges before we come to them.
The day dawned.
There was more or less of hustle
in the air.
New YORK contains more sons of
Erin than probably any Irish city out
side of Dublin.
And these patriotic exiles never
neglect to fittingly celebrate st. Pat
rick's day, no matter what the
weather may be.
Charlie felt he must have something
to distract his attention. Artemus
was not in sight the daily paper had
been exhausted, and as a last resort
he sauntered out to watch the crowds
Never once did he wander far from
the hotel, which fact, later on, he was
inclined to believe was a special dis
pensation of Providence.
The magnet was there that held
him.
He smoked and walked, and so
the time dragged by until the hour of
fate arrived.
Charlie, the better to see and be out
of the anticipated jam, had mounted
a convenient carriage-stone standing
in front of dwelling house half a
block from the hotel.
Great as was the excitement around
him, it seemed to be doubly intensi-
fed, further along the line of march,
especially in front of the hotel.
He saw the procession break at this
point-melt away as it were.
Men ran toward the hotel in squads,
waving their arms wildly.
Was it an opportunity to quench
the thirst that frequently burns Irish
throats on this glorious holiday?
Charlie knew of yore all about
the battle of the Boyne, and how an
orange flag arouses the hatred of
st. Patrick's day parader even as the
red flag stirs the maddened bull to
frenzy.
Had some bold and incautious soul
dared to invite immolation by thus
Haunting in their faces the color they
despised?
He supposed this must be the case.
To his surprise, however, the ex-
citement spread-the crowd pressed
madly forward mounted officers came
galloping back, shouting out some
thing that at first he could not catch.
Never to his dying day would Char
lie Stuart forget the intense anxiety
of that moment when he seemed to
feel as though the fate of empires was
at stake-and then he heard distinctly
above the roar the stentorian voice of
leathernlunged officer:
Turn outl The avenue is impass-
ablel The Windsor hotel is on fire!
Turn QUIT"
Doubtless that stentorian shout
sent a shuddering chill to many a
heart when those who heard it glanc-
ed up at the massive pile and compre-
hended the hundreds of precious lives
that were endangered.
To none could it appeal with more
irresistible force than to Charlie
Stuart.
All his hopes and ambitions on earth
were centered there-the girl he
loved with heart and soul was far up
III tIS uoOhlCu
asleep, under the influence of an
opiate, after a wakeful night with an
aching brow.
At first his blood seemed CONCEAL
ed into ice.
Then it leaped through his veins
like boiling lava, fresh from the
throat of Vesuvius.
Charlie did not waste time in re-
Election.
Time was worth more than money
now, worth all the world to him.
He had leaped to the pavement
like a deerhound, and dashed toward
the hotel in great bounds.
Some men would have lost their
wits, but it seemed that the greater
the emergency the keener became his
mind
Even as he ran and elbowed his
way through the excited crowd with
irresistible force, he was mapping out
plan of campaign.
Really there seems no limit to the
human mind-its capacity is astonish-
ing-it rises to meet the emergency
regardless of what is needed.
Now, even when thus fighting his
way through the crowd, Charlie saw
the hopelessness of attempting to
reach the main entrance on the ave-
nue.,