Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1903-12-10
a HEROIC
STRUGGLE
BY CHARLES EUGENE BANKS
HUNDREDS of people knew Jack


HUNDREDS of people knew Jack
Golden, head salesman on the road
for Brown, Tucker g. Co., New York. A
tireless and systematic worker, he was
also possessed of a peculiar homely
charm of manner that made the SIM
plest truth seem wonderful when he re-
lated it. This virtue 500 placed to
his credit a large number OF profitable
accounts, besides winning for him a
growing circle of warm personal
friends AMI a 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 ap-
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 If
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 strangemood seemed to grow on
him as time passed, recurring at short
er 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 broadened, their statesmen came
and went, and Jack Golden was forgot
ten.
y e. n n n y n
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
Observation-Disclosures 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
up in an old weather-beaten building,
with steep, drunken stairs, staring
windows and crazy blinds. This door
opened on a small, square room, with a
little alcove at the back, shut off by
cheap, chintz curtains. A narrow iron
bed stood in a farther corne 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 a sleeping man. She
was thin and pale and continued watch
ing, but a beautiful m 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 cross the fore
head and about the mouth told of great
mental suffering.
The man awoke, slowly, as though il
were an effort to raise the heavy eye
lids under the beetling brows.
The woman gently stroked the vast
ed fingers, and bending her gaze
steadily upon him, said slowly:
"Jack-dear old Jack-don't yor
know me?"
The light in his eyes shifted rapidly
the drawn lips twiched, but he only
turned his head from side to side ant
fell to tracing designs with his finger
on the coverlet.
Listen, jack" she continued earn
estly; 81 have come for you; we are go
ing home, to the old home in the coun'
try where the air is clear and the sur
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 lightesi
whisper.
81 thought l heard music" he sale
family. "There it is again; the cry o:
a whippoorwill-it is faint and fal
away-but sweet-very sweet"
She pressed the thin fingers assur
ingly and went to the window ant
Apeered out into the night. Brave won
an! How she fought the sobs bacl
upon her heart.
Then returning to the bedside sht
took the sufferers hands again in hel
own and began to sing softly:
"tHome again, home again, from
foreign shore,
And, oh, it fills my soul with joy tt
meet my friends once more"
The words f1oated on the air lik'
a fragrance of old-fashioned flowers
and the mans eyes grew luminiou
with the sweet sounds.
She saw that she had caught hi
fancy and repeated the words owe
and over again while he regarded he
fixedly. A storm broke without ant
the wind beat the frozen sleet agains
the windows and went shriekini
around The corners of the old build
ing like a horde of demons let loos
from hell. A bell in a church towe
rang out the hour Of nine. He turne,