The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1910-10-20
,rator had he not been afflicted with

In the Winter of the following
year Jack Spurgeon lay dying of
phthisis. A protracted spell of un-
usually severe weather and INSULT
cient nourishment had left him too
debilitated to combat the encroach-
ments Of the disease. Jack was not
particularly afraid of death, but he
worried over the future welfare of
his wife and their child. The En-
glish laborer, as laborers of other
countries, seldom receives a wage
that is more than sufficient to supply
his immediate needs and, as not in
frequently happens, life of toll is
rewarded at its close with the knowl.
edge that he must leave behind
those naturally dependent upon him,
unprovided against the demands of
the morrow. This knowledge was
Jacks. He had worked constantly
for years, but at no time had he re-
ceived wage that permitted Of
accumulation as provision against
unusual difficulties. He was going
and he had nothing to leave but his
blessing. While racking his brain
in an effort to devise some scheme
whereby the condition of his wife's
future might be improved, he sud-
denly remembered the label and the
promises of assistance made to him
by Michael Rubens. This was balm
to his soul. There was a ring of in
spiration in his voice as he called to
Nell, his wife, to bring the Gle
pocket book wot you'll find in the
drawer"
Nell brought it and sat down at
his bedside while Jack, after a little
fumbling, fished out the rag label
and unfolded it carefully and caress-
ingly, as one might do with letter
from friend beloved.
This yere label, Nell," explained
Jack, when he had unfolded it suffi-
ciently to be read, was given ter
me by a man wot's rich. saved lis
life. Is name and address is on it,
an e promised ter assist me or
mine whenever there should be a
need. / won't trouble i'm for myself,
but when when all this both
er is finished you go ter i'm an
tell i'm that you come from mean
why. You 'ear me, Nell ?"
But Nell only wept. It is pos
sible that she was conscious only of
the loss she was about to suffer at
the death of her husband, a loss
which no future prosperity could re-
place. This | say was possible, for
the wife of the laborer, though with
less to be thankful for, is as capable
of as pure and as deep an affection
as her more fortunate sisters.
Some weeks after the funeral Mrs.
Spurgeon journeyed to the mantle
factory of Michael Rubens, discov-
cred his Office, tapped timidly on the
door and in response to an unctious
Come inn opened it and entered.
Rubens was lolling in a chair with
his hands clasped over his stomach
and his feet on a desk chewing
placidly on the end of cigar. He
never turned his head as his visitor
entered, for Rubens was an exceed
ingly shrewd man and had arranged
a couple of mirrors in such way as
to enable him to take the measure
of all who entered his Office without
giving them the chance to observe
his features. Noticing the woeworn
look and wellworn attire of his Wis
itor he naturally concluded that she
was an applicant for employment,
so modulating his voice in manner
suited to such belief he growled:
Well, what is it?''
Mrs. Spurgeon was nervous, part
ly through fear of the magnificent
person in the chair and partly as a
result of her sorrowiugs, so she tim
idly handed the label to Rubens
with the simple inquiry:
You may remember this, sir.''
Rubens took i looked at it,
brought his feet down from the desk,
sat upright in his chair and said:
Remember it? Well, | should
say do! 1t is a reminder of one
of the most distressing incidents in
my life. Yes, /, remember it; but
how did you come by it?'
Mrs. Spurgeon told him.
Hum! Very sad," soliloquized
Rubens, very sad indeed, such a
splendid young fellow he was and