Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1904-10-06
DEN NY
By Lands MILLS
Cartwright, 1881, by the Short Story Pub. Company
All Rights Reserved)
r HE incident was told to me y


r HE incident was told to me years
| back, when / was second assistant
engineer with the Golden Grown Min
ing company, at Red Dog, At the time
| It raised by several notches, in my opinv
ion, those rough miners with whom
was so constantly associated; and In
later years have often recalled it when
the course Of events has brought me
face to face with the hypocrisy OF a
large city.
It was told me the eve before st. Pat
rick's day, for remember having start
ed for ball given by the Irish element,
The night was clear and cold, but the
wind was SO sharp that l was chilled
through, and stopped at the Travellers
Rest for warming glass Of stimulant.
I pushed open the door-the old bull
let-scarred door, with its heavy hinges
and entered the bar-room. The usual
crowd was not In evidence. and OF the
five occupants, four we're in the act OF
taking their departure. They carried
their shovels with them and as they
passed me and went out on the windy
street they wished me good evening.
The door closed behind them, and | was
left alone with Parson Sam.
walked to the big stove, and while
warming my hands asked If the boys
were going to work that night.
Sam pulled at his pipe, and replied;
mo"
remarked the fact that they had
their shovels with them, and asked for
what use they were intended. Sam
took the pipe from his mouth, expec-
torated in the direction of the base OF
the bar, and replied: Coin to give
| Denny an airin'"
"And what is the matter with Denny,
and where is he?" asked.
''Nothin' at present" he repliedi
'he's in the cemetery on the hill"
'Dead?" l asked.
Eyes" he replied.
Sand who was Denny?"
A look Of surprise came over his face
as he asked: "You haven't heard OF
Denny. Mr.. Hopkins?" and then, after
a moments pause, he added: well,
maybe that amt so strange, after all,
You've only been in Red Dog some
six or eight months, and Denny died
Just five years ago, comm tomorrow"
"And why do they remember him so
well now?" asked.
Sam removed his arm from the back
OF his chair, rested his elbows on his
knees, and, gazing through the open
door of the stove at the Pickering flames
| told me the story of Denny.
"You see, Denny was sorter mild like
awfully gentle and quiet spoken, you
know, so the boys didn't pay much at
tention to him, 'cept when they were
In bad humor, and wanted some one 20
take II out on. He took it all in quiet,
good-natured sort of way, never thinkin'
of hittin' back, so we all thought he
didn't have no sand. Atleast that's what
we thought until that st. Patrick's day
about which I'm tellin' you.
''There was a good deal Of drinkin'
goin' on the night before, and four
patriotic Irishmen kept it up until they
were regular blind. They were a sorry
lot when they showed up for work the
next day, and the boss gave them
regular raking down.
"That mornin' was the first time
ever saw Denny show any temper. He
was mad clear through at the thought
of workin' on ST. Patrick's day, and re-
fused to take his pick out of the tool
shed. When the boss comes up to
him, and asks what's the matter,
Denny just points to the green rib
bon pinned on the front of his shirt
and says: It's St. Patricks day, ard
I don't work