The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-12-25
A HEROIC
STRUGGLE
BY CHARLES EUGENE BANKS


Tor Brown, Tucker G. Co., New York. A
tireless and systematic worker, he was
also possessed of peculiar homely
charm of manner that made the sim
plest truth seem wonderful when he re-
lated it. This virtue soon placed to
his credit a large number of profitable
accounts, besides winning for him a
growing circle of warm personal
friends and liberal salary. 1t would
seem that so many blessings should
have made Jack Golden one of the hap
piest of men. And so he generally APP
peared to be. But there were times
when he would become suddenly pos
sessed of the most profound melan-
choly, and withdrawing himself from
all he would give himself up to brood
ing over some real or fancied trouble.
These periods of gloom were of ir-
regular lengths and differing degrees
of intensity, but while they lasted Jack
wrapped himself in an impenetrable
cloak of reserve and was unapproach-
able to his most intimate friends.
The strange moods seemed to grow on
him as time passed, recurring at short
err and shorter intervals, until, at last,
he rarely joined in the pastimes which
had once given him pleasure, but pur-
sued an almost solitary course. Then
he suddenly resigned his position with
the simple statement that he was go
ing anywhere, he did not say, and
no one had the temerity to ask. He
was an enigma which his employers
had long given up trying to solve.
And so he passed out of their lives,
the house of Green, Tucker & Co. grew
and broad'ened, their statesmen came
and went, and Jack Golden was forgot
ten.
4 y
Christmas Eve. Without, the snow
flakes drifted down the quiet air like
apple blossoms in the verdant spring.
On every side were evidences of the
spirit of giving; bundles piled in
doorways; bundles in the arms of
pedestrians-bundles everywhere. No,
not everywhere. There was one room
in the great city at the door of which
no bundle had been laid. 1t was high
ND in an old weather-beaten building,
with steep, drunken stairs, staring
windows and crazy blinds. This door
opened on small, square room, with
little alcove at the back, shut off by
cheap, chintz curtains. A narrow iron
bed stood in farther corner covered
with a spread as white as the snow that
futtered against the dingy window
panes, and beside it a woman, holding
in her thin, blue-veined hands the long,
gaunt fingers of sleeping man. She
was thin and pale and continued watch
ing, but beautiful woman still, and
her eyes bent upon the face before her
were full of compassion and solicitude.
The face of the man was mournfully
sad, and the deep lines across the fore
head and about the mouth told of great
mental suffering.
The man awoke, slowly, as though it
were an effort to raise the heavy eye
lids under the beetlipg brows.
The woman gently stroked the vast
ed fingers, and bending her gaze
steadily upon him, said slowly:
.Jack-dear old Jack-don't you
know me?"
The light in his eyes shifted rapidly,
the drawn lips twiched, but he only
turned his head from side to side and
fell to tracing designs with his finger
on the coverlet.
Listen, Jack" she continued earn
estly; II have come for you; we are GO
ing home, to the old home in the coun-
try where the air is clear and the sun
shines almost always; you remember
how bright the sun used to shine there,
don't you, Jack?"
His lips moved and she bent over him
so that she might catch his lightest
whisper.
Il thought I heard music" he said
family. There it is again; the cry of
'whippoorwill-it is faint and far
away-but sweet-very sweet"
She pressed the thin fingers assur-
ingly and went to the window and
peered out into the night. Brave wom-
an! How she fought the sobs back
upon her heart.
Then returning to the bedside she
took the sufferers hands again in her
own and began to sing softly:
Home again, home again, from a
foreign shore,
And, oh, it fills my soul with Joy to
meet my friends once more.'"
The words foated on the air like
q fragrance of old-fashioned flowers.
and the mans eyes grew luminous
with the sweet sounds.
She saw that she had caught his
fancy and repeated the words over
and over again while he regarded her
fixedly. A storm broke without and
the wind beat the frozen sleet against
the windows and went shrieking
around the corners of the old build
ing AXE horde of demons let loose
from hell. A bell in a church tower
rang out the hour of nine. He turned
suddenly on his pillow and clutched
her arm convulsively, muttered:
Don't you hear them! don't you
hear them! the bells! the bells!
They are coming to take me away
but they shall not-you will not let
them--you have promised hundred
times, and YOU will not break your