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Updated: May 7, 2025
My story is very simple, Only what I remember of the life of one of these men, a furnace-tender in one of Kirby & John's rolling-mills, Hugh Wolfe. You know the mills? They took the great order for the lower Virginia railroads there last winter; run usually with about a thousand men. I cannot tell why I choose the half-forgotten story of this Wolfe more than that of myriads of these furnace-hands.
If anything like this were hidden beneath the pale, bleared eyes, and dull, washed-out-looking face, no one had ever taken the trouble to read its faint signs: not the half-clothed furnace-tender, Wolfe, certainly. Yet he was kind to her: it was his nature to be kind, even to the very rats that swarmed in the cellar: kind to her in just the same way. She knew that.
But the cool, probing eyes were turned on himself now, mocking, cruel, relentless. "Not hungry for meat," the furnace-tender said at last. "What then? Whiskey?" jeered Kirby, with a coarse laugh. Wolfe was silent a moment, thinking. "I dunno," he said, with a bewildered look. "It mebbe. Summat to make her live, I think, like you. Whiskey ull do it, in a way." The young man laughed again.
"Not hungry for meat," the furnace-tender said at last. "What then? Whiskey?" jeered Kirby, with a coarse laugh. Wolfe was silent a moment, thinking. "I dunno," he said, with a bewildered look. "It mebbe. Summat to make her live, I think, like you. Whiskey ull do it, in a way." The young man laughed again. Mitchell flashed a look of disgust somewhere, not at Wolfe.
If anything like this were hidden beneath the pale, bleared eyes, and dull, washed-out-looking face, no one had ever taken the trouble to read its faint signs: not the half-clothed furnace-tender, Wolfe, certainly. Yet he was kind to her: it was his nature to be kind, even to the very rats that swarmed in the cellar: kind to her in just the same way. She knew that.
My story is very simple, only what I remember of the life of one of these men, a furnace-tender in one of Kirby & John's rolling-mills, Hugh Wolfe. You know the mills? They took the great order for the Lower Virginia railroads there last winter; run usually with about a thousand men. I cannot tell why I choose the half-forgotten story of this Wolfe more than that of myriads of these furnace-hands.
Bright and deep and cold as Arctic air, the soul of the man lay tranquil beneath. He looked at the furnace-tender as he had looked at a rare mosaic in the morning; only the man was the more amusing study of the two. "Are you answered? Why, May, look at him!
Bright and deep and cold as Arctic air, the soul of the man lay tranquil beneath. He looked at the furnace-tender as he had looked at a rare mosaic in the morning; only the man was the more amusing study of the two. "Are you answered? Why, May, look at him!
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