{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_67871/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_67871","id":"gutenberg_67871","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67871","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Journalism/Media/Writing","Category: Politics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Reports & Conference Proceedings","Category: Sociology","United States -- Politics and government -- Periodicals"],"text":"Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n\n  Underscores \u201c_\u201d before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_\n    in the original text.\n  Equal signs \u201c=\u201d before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold=\n    in the original text.\n  Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals.\n  Antiquated spellings have been preserved.\n  Typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n\n\n\n\n                           _Jefferson\u2019s Bible_\n\n    A rare volume for the book-lover readers of TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE\n\n\n102 YEARS AGO\n\nThomas Jefferson, while \u201coverwhelmed with other business,\u201d cut such\npassages from the Evangelists as he believed would best present the\nethical teachings of Jesus, and \u201carranged them on the pages of a blank\nbook in a certain order of time or subject.\u201d This book he called \u201cThe\nPhilosophy of Jesus of Nazareth.\u201d\n\nFor many years the manuscript of this wonderful book has lain in the\narchives of the State Department at Washington, and public clamor for its\npublication at last became so great that Congress recently ordered it\nissued as a public document\u2014but in very limited number.\n\nBefore the original was turned over to the State Department, an accurate\ncopy of it was made while in the possession of Col. Thomas Jefferson\nRandolph, Mr. Jefferson\u2019s oldest grandson. From this copy was printed the\nedition now offered to our subscribers.\n\nTOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE AND THOMAS JEFFERSON\u2019S BIBLE\n\nFor $1.35, sent direct to this office, we will enter a year\u2019s\nsubscription to TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE and mail a copy of the Jefferson\nBible, postage prepaid. A dollar book and a dollar magazine\u2014both for only\n$1.35. Send today. Do it now. Address\n\n                         =TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE=\n             121 West 42d Street,           New York, N. Y.\n\n\n\n\n                          TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE\n                 THE MAGAZINE WITH A PURPOSE BACK OF IT\n                              =April, 1905=\n\n\n    _Politics and Economics_                        _Thomas E. Watson_ 129\n       _In Russia\u2014\u201cGive Them Free Passes and They Will Become\n          as Servants\u201d\u2014Two Outlaws\u2014Building on Sand, Again\u2014Look\n          at England\u2014Editorial Comments\u2014How Private Ownership\n          Breaks Down._\n    _The Patriot_                                                      142\n    _The Atonement of Hustler Joe_                 _Eleanor H. Porter_ 145\n    _The Constitution_                         _Frederick Upham Adams_ 181\n    _In Absence_                                    _Eugene C. Dolson_ 185\n    _The Gray Weed_                                      _Owen Oliver_ 187\n    _With Caste Against Him_                          _Hugh Pendexter_ 196\n    _Corrupt Practices in Elections_        _Hon. Lucius F. C. Garvin_ 203\n                                         _Ex-Governor of Rhode Island_\n    _Pole Baker_                                      _Will N. Harben_ 208\n    _How I Dined With President Grant_                   _B. F. Riley_ 221\n    _The New York Children\u2019s Court_             _Hon. Joseph M. Deuel_ 225\n    _What Buzz-Saw Morgan Thinks_                       _W. S. Morgan_ 234\n    _The Heritage of Maxwell Fair_                    _Vincent Harper_ 236\n    _The Say of Reform Editors_                                        245\n    _News Record_                                                      248\n\n         Application made for entry as Second-Class Matter at\n               New York (N. Y.) Post Office, March, 1905\n             Copyright, 1905, in U. S. and Great Britain.\n             Published by TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE,\n                      121 West 42d Street, N. Y.\n\n             TERMS: $1.00 A YEAR;       10 CENTS A NUMBER\n\n\n\n\n                    TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE ADVERTISER\n\n                      _What the Country Thinks of_\n                          TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE\n\n\n\u201cA good fighter.\u201d\u2014_Buffalo Times._\n\n\u201cWhat Mr. Watson says is forcible.\u201d\u2014_Buffalo Express._\n\n\u201cHas a great deal of spicy reading.\u201d\u2014_Troy (N. Y.) Times._\n\n\u201cRead TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE.\u201d\u2014_Editorial, Boston American._\n\n\u201cThe Hon. Tom is at the front, naturally and properly.\u201d\u2014_N. Y. Sun._\n\n\u201cBears out all that Mr. Watson promised for it.\u201d\u2014_Philadelphia Press._\n\n\u201cBesides specials there is an abundance of good fiction.\u201d\u2014_N. Y. World._\n\n\u201cMore than twice the money\u2019s worth.\u201d\u2014_Stephen Fiske, in Spirit of the\nTimes._\n\n\u201cSome capital things in prose and verse.\u201d\u2014_New York Times Saturday\nReview._\n\n\u201cMr. Watson\u2019s pen has lost none of its spice.\u201d\u2014_Binghamton (N. Y.)\nRepublican._\n\n\u201cIt stands, and will ever stand, for the principle of truth and\njustice.\u201d\u2014_Chicago American._\n\n\u201cTom Watson, the broadest-minded statesman in the South.\u201d\u2014_Southern\nMercury, Dallas, Tex._\n\n\u201cHe by no means writes as a defeated candidate. Optimism is the keynote\nof his salutatory.\u201d\u2014_New York Herald._\n\n\u201cAlthough Mr. Watson attacks his opponents in a lively fashion, he shows\nno bitterness.\u201d\u2014_The Fourth Estate._\n\n\u201cWatson\u2019s thoughts are upon great things, and he will not be diverted by\ninconsequential affairs.\u201d\u2014_Joliet (Ill.) News._\n\n\u201cTOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE is the latest addition to the list of first-class\nperiodicals of the country.\u201d\u2014_Puget Sound American._\n\n\u201cFilled with the piquant, forceful, pungent sentences for which Tom\nWatson is famous.\u201d\u2014_Nebraska Independent, Lincoln, Neb._\n\n\u201cClean, entertaining and filled with a full sheath of articles, poems and\nstories by well-known writers.\u201d\u2014_Boston Tribune._\n\n\u201cMr. Watson is an intelligent, aggressive writer, with the courage needed\nby every man who enters the lists as a reformer.\u201d\u2014_Topeka Herald._\n\n\u201cMr. Thos. E. Watson is a brilliant writer on history, and an honest man,\nsincerely interested in the welfare of mankind.\u201d\u2014_Kansas City Times._\n\n\u201cIt shall ever stand for the rights of those who believe in Democracy; it\nstands and will ever stand for the principles of truth and justice.\u201d\u2014_San\nFrancisco Examiner._\n\n\u201cThe magazine will be useful as an educational force, and all reformers\nwelcome, or should welcome, every publication which is educational in its\npurpose.\u201d\u2014_W. J. Bryan\u2019s Commoner._\n\n\u201cFollowing Tom Lawson, Tom Watson will begin his magazine next month.\nNow, if Teddy will use the big stick when the two Toms throw the\nlimelight, the great audience will be \u2018de-lighted.\u2019\u201d\u2014_American Standard,\nIndianapolis, Ind._\n\n\n\n\n                        =_TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE_=\n\n               VOL. I          APRIL, 1905         No. 2\n\n\n\n\n                        _Politics and Economics_\n\n                           BY THOMAS E. WATSON\n\n\n                               _In Russia_\n\n\u201cA Tale of Two Cities,\u201d written by the great novelist, Charles Dickens,\ncontains a vivid picture, which shows the relation existing between a\nnobleman of the Old Order in France and one of the common people.\n\nIn that day the streets were narrow. Sidewalks did not separate the\nspace used by those who went on foot from that used by those who went in\nvehicles. From the houses on the one side to the houses on the other,\ntravel was free to all: those on the ground were ever in danger from\nthose who were in vehicles.\n\nDickens describes the progress of the carriage of one of the French\naristocrats, driven at headlong speed along these narrow streets. It\nwhirled around the corners with a wild rattle and clatter, and with\nan utter lack of consideration for pedestrians. Women and children\nscattered, screaming, to get out of its way, and men clutched at one\nanother to escape the danger.\n\nAt last, whirling round a corner, by a fountain, one of the wheels of\nthis furiously driven carriage strikes a little child and kills it. Amid\nthe loud cries of those who behold the sickening spectacle the horses\nrear and plunge and the carriage comes to a standstill. The nobleman\nlooks out and calmly inquires what has gone wrong. He is told that a\nchild has been run over.\n\nA man is bending over the lifeless form, screaming with grief.\n\n\u201cWhy does he make that abominable noise?\u201d asks the nobleman.\n\n\u201cPardon me, Monsieur le Marquis, it was his child,\u201d explains one of the\ncrowd humbly.\n\n\u201cKilled!\u201d screams the father, lifting and extending his arms. \u201cDead!\u201d he\ncries.\n\nThe Marquis runs his eye over all the rabble, as though they were so many\nrats come out of their holes. He draws out his purse.\n\n\u201cI do not see why it is that you people won\u2019t take care of yourselves and\nchildren? One or the other of you are always in the way. HOW DO I KNOW\nTHAT YOU HAVE NOT INJURED ONE OF MY HORSES?\u201d\n\nWith this he throws a gold coin on the ground beside the father of the\nchild.\n\nThe crazed parent continues to scream: \u201cDead! Dead!\u201d\n\nAs the Marquis is driving away, the gold coin which he had thrown to the\nground is flung back into the carriage, and falls rattling at his feet.\n\n\u201cHold!\u201d says the Marquis. \u201cHold the horses! Who threw that coin?\u201d\n\nThe crowd makes no answer. No blouse-clad man dare look him in the eye.\n\n\u201cYou dogs!\u201d says the Marquis smoothly; \u201cI would ride over any of you very\nwillingly and exterminate you from the earth. If I knew who it was that\nthrew that coin I would have the brigand crushed under the wheels.\u201d\n\nSo cowed were they, so long and hard had been their experience of what\nsuch a man could do to them, that not a voice or a hand or an eye was\nraised.\n\nSuch was the condition of the French before the great Revolution of 1789;\nand while the picture is drawn by a novelist, it is the picture of a\nnovelist who painted human life and human conditions as they were never\npainted before. His pictures were photographs.\n\nIn another book, not a novel but a history, (the title and the author of\nwhich shall not be mentioned here), there is another description of human\nrelations under the _Ancien R\u00e9gime_, and that description claims to be\nliterally true. I quote the author\u2019s own words:\n\n\u201cWas it not in this same year, 1788, that the Duke of B\u00e9thune\u2019s carriage,\ndashing through the narrow streets, as was the aristocratic custom, ran\nover a little girl in the rue de la Ferronnerie and killed her?\n\n\u201cDid not the mother see it all? Did not she rush wildly to the scene,\nsnatch up the poor crushed form, gaze distractedly into the eyes for\nlight _and see none_, lay her cheek to that of the child to feel the\nwarmth of life _and feel none_?\n\n\u201cStill was the little heart, gone the breath, blanched the cheeks, frozen\nthe tiny hands.\n\n\u201cWhat sound does the ear ever hear like that of the voice that was heard\nof old in Ramah?\n\n\u201cShriek after shriek split the air, piercing every heart in the crowd\nthat gathered as the frantic mother, holding her dead child in her arms,\ngave voice to her grief.\n\n\u201c_And the Duke, what said he?_ \u2018LET THE WOMAN COME TO MY HOUSE, AND SHE\nSHALL BE PAID FOR HER LOSS.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe had not even left the carriage; _he had not spoken a word of sympathy\nor regret_.\n\n\u201cIn his view of the case he had done some damage to this woman, and,\nbeing a man of honor, he was ready to settle the bill.\n\n\u201cThat was all. \u2018Drive on, coachman!\u2019\u2014and never a thought more did the\nDuke waste on the mother or child. _They were not of his world, but of\nanother and a lower._\u201d\n\nThis was more than one hundred years ago. Ever since that time we have\nsupposed that the human race has been advancing onward and upward toward\na higher and a better civilization.\n\nThe philosopher has reflected and advised. The statesman has studied and\nplanned. The reformer has made his battle-axe ring at the door of every\nabuse.\n\nLearning has spoken from all our schools. Religion has preached from all\nour temples; and yet in one of the nations of Europe, where the king and\nthe priest have had absolute control of the minds and the bodies of the\npeople for hundreds of years, the point of view of the aristocrat is\nprecisely the same that it was in France in the year 1788. And the man of\nthe common people submits humbly in 1905 just as he did in 1788.\n\nIn Russia no man\u2019s conscience is his own; it belongs to the Church. In\nRussia no man\u2019s action is free; he belongs to the State. The Czar rules\nby \u201c_Divine Right_.\u201d He is the earthly representative of _the Most High\nGod_; the common people of the land are mere dirt under his feet, being\nof a different world and a lower.\n\nA few Sundays ago his people, in the belief that his heart\u2014the heart of\ntheir \u201cLittle Father\u201d\u2014was accessible to pity and to the plea for justice,\nwere coming in peaceful procession, accompanied by their wives and\ntheir children, to kneel at his feet, lift up their supplicating hands,\nand, with their own tongues, reach his ear with the true story of their\ngrievances.\n\nTheir Little Father refused to see them or hear them.\n\nTheir Little Father threw a glittering line of steel between himself and\nhis \u201cchildren.\u201d The Little Father ordered, \u201c_Fire!_\u201d and his children\nfell before the storm of lead.\n\nThey were shot down like dogs; women and children were sabered or\ncrushed under the iron-shod feet of horses; they were scourged back to\ntheir hovels, their cellars, their sweltering dens.\n\nAnd the hundreds of dead bodies which littered the streets were thrown\ninto the river like so much carrion.\n\nA few days afterward it was considered good politics by the Grand Dukes\nwho control this contemptible little Czar to grant a hearing to a\ndeputation representing these same laborers.\n\nThe whole world had been aroused to anger and indignation at the manner\nin which the Cossacks had massacred the people.\n\nPublic sentiment had made itself felt even in the inner circles of the\nheartless oligarchy which controls the Russian Empire.\n\nTherefore the Czar was told to receive the deputation, and he did so. The\ndeputation bowed down to the earth before the Czar, who said: \u201c_Good day,\nmy children._ I have summoned you to hear my words, and to communicate\nthem to your companions. The recent unfortunate events were _the\ninevitable results of your own lawless actions_. Those who induced you\nto address this petition to me desire to see you revolt against me and\nmy government.\u201d After a few more words of the same complacent character,\nthis representative of God on earth said to the delegation:\n\n\u201cI am convinced of _the innocence of the workingmen_, and believe that\n_they_ are well disposed toward me. I WILL PARDON THOSE TRANSGRESSORS.\nRETURN AGAIN TO YOUR WORK. MAY GOD ASSIST YOU.\u201d\n\nThe history of the world has so many revolting passages that I cannot\nsay that this Russian episode surpasses others, but when the head of a\ngreat Christian government tunes his tongue to the formula of Divine\nRight which was current during the Dark Ages, and gives us a dash of\nmedievalism, to be reported by a special correspondent in the daily\nnewspapers, there is something so anomalous about the situation that it\nmakes a peculiar impression of its own.\n\nAt least 2,000 of this emperor\u2019s \u201cchildren\u201d had been butchered in cold\nblood for the high crime of wishing to present a petition to him for\nshorter hours of labor and a more liberal recognition of their status as\nhuman beings.\n\n\u201cMay God assist you,\u201d says the Czar\u2014leaving it to the benighted minds\nof these untutored workmen to find out how it is that God is going to\nassist them, when the representative of God on earth shoots them down by\nthe thousand, tramples them beneath the hoofs of Cossack horses, slashes\nthem with Cossack sabers, pierces them with Cossack lances, lashes them\nwith Cossack scourges, and sends them bleeding and howling back to their\nhopeless homes and miserable lives, for no offense other than the wish to\nkneel at his feet and pray for better treatment.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cI FORGIVE YOU!\u201d says the Czar.\n\n_Forgives them for what?_\n\nFor being denied the right to petition the throne, for being driven\nback into serfdom, for being hacked and slashed and trampled and\nbullet-riddled by the hireling savages of a barbarian government!\n\n\u201c_As the Great Father above forgives, so I, your Little Father,\nforgives._\u201d\n\nAmen. Let the whimpering wretch who nurses a saber-slashed head recover\nin peace. _He is pardoned for having been Cossacked._\n\nLet the father who drags his lifeless daughter from under the hoofs of\nthe warhorse go weep over her in comfort\u2014he and she are _forgiven for\nhaving dared to hope for mercy from the Czar_.\n\nAnd the nameless dead who went forth that Sabbath morning, following the\nheroic priest whose baton was the Cross of Christ\u2014went forth in the glow\nof lofty purpose and pathetic hope, and whose bodies are now feeding the\nfishes of the Neva\u2014let them also rest in peace\u2014_their Little Father has\nforgiven them_.\n\n\u201cHow do I know that you have not injured my horses?\u201d asked Dickens\u2019s\nMarquis, while the frantic peasant was lamenting his crushed child.\n\n\u201cLet the woman come to my house; she shall be paid. Drive on, coachman,\u201d\nsaid the Duke of B\u00e9thune.\n\n\u201cServed you right!\u201d says the Czar.\n\n\u201cServed you right!\u201d say the Grand Dukes, speaking through the individual\ncalled Vladimir.\n\n\u201cYou should not have quit work. You should not have asked a hearing. You\ngot crushed by my troops. I forgive you for it. Go back to your work. Be\ncontent with your lot. May God assist you.\u201d\n\nThus the voice of class-rule speaks in Russia today as it spoke in France\non the eve of the Revolution, and as it always has spoken in every part\nof the world _since man learned the trick of enslaving his brother_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs everybody knows, the real governors of the vast empire of Russia are\nthe Grand Dukes. The Czar is a mere puppet in their hands. When he is\nobedient they control him. When he is disobedient they murder him. Thus\nthey killed Paul, the father of Alexander the First, because he favored\nan alliance with Napoleon Bonaparte, while the Grand Dukes favored an\nalliance with Great Britain. They would \u201cremove\u201d the present emperor if\nhe were to pit his will against theirs.\n\nThe spokesman of the present cabal of Grand Dukes is Vladimir, as perfect\na type of the cruel, obstinate, narrow-minded aristocrat as Europe ever\nsaw in its worst days.\n\nSpeaking to Michael Davitt, the Irish member of the British Parliament,\nthis Grand Duke declared that the reason why representation could not\nbe given to the common people of Russia was that _they were not fit to\nexercise it_.\n\nHe regarded and intended this to be an indictment against the common\npeople. On the contrary, it is a tremendous indictment against the\ngovernment.\n\nThe Russian people, as distinguished from the Russian aristocracy, have\nbeen completely under the control of the laws and the administration\nwhich the ruling class saw fit to establish. The altar and the throne\nhave supported each other. Church and State have been firm and fast\nallies. Ever since the days of Peter the Great the minds and the\nconsciences of the common people of Russia have been absolutely dominated\nby the ruling class.\n\nThe shepherds have had full control of the flock. The guardians have had\nno interference with the education of their wards.\n\nIf after so many hundreds of years the mass of the Russian people are so\nsteeped in ignorance and superstition that they are unfit to exercise the\ncommon rights of manhood, _that fact_, if it be fact, _damns the Russian\naristocracy with the deep guilt of having debased the nation committed to\nits care and guidance_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo substantial reform has ever been conceded within a state governed by\nking or aristocracy until the blood of sacrifice has first been shed.\n\nSpain would grant no concessions to those who claimed freedom of\nconscience in the Netherlands, until years of warfare had drenched the\nsoil of Holland with the blood of heroes, who fought and died for those\nprinciples which we carelessly and unappreciatively enjoy today.\n\nFrance would loosen none of the chains which galled the peasant, until\nthat peasant rose in his desperation and paid with his life for the\nliberty his descendants inherit. The king was deaf to all prayers.\n\nThe aristocracy drove from power with insults and persecution every\nenlightened minister who proposed to better the condition of the common\npeople by conceding moderate reforms. It was only when the desperation of\ndespair roused the people to a furious attack upon time-honored abuses\nand vested wrongs of every conceivable kind, that \u201c_privilege_\u201d would\nharken to reason, and Right could find a place on the statute-book.\n\nIn England the story has been the same. In the long procession of the\nages in which the common people have wrung, one by one, from the grip\nof aristocracy those liberties upon which we now pride ourselves, the\nprice of blood has been always demanded, and invariably paid. Never has\nking or aristocrat conceded a single demand of the reformers until those\nreformers had either won it in battle or had made such a demonstration as\n_struck fear into the hearts of the ruling class_.\n\nIn Russia precisely the same state of affairs exists, and if ever liberal\ninstitutions are to take the place of grand ducal tyranny and class-rule\nin that empire the soil will once more drink the blood of sacrifice. It\nwas so in the beginning, is now, and ever will be, perhaps, for human\nnature is the same \u201cyesterday, today and forever.\u201d\n\nThe man who believes that the autocratic class in Russia will give up its\nadvantages without a fight is a superficial student of history, just as\nthe man who believes that the dominating trusts and corporations in these\nUnited States can be made, by moral suasion, to turn loose, is an idle\ndreamer who knows nothing of the greed of class-rule. No matter under\nwhat name it exploits the people, or under what form it exerts its power,\nor under what particular system of legislation it usurps control and\nveils its rascalities, to make it _turn loose_ you must beat it in battle\nOR MAKE IT AFRAID.\n\n\n       \u201c_Give Them Free Passes and They Will Become as Servants_\u201d\n\nThe manner in which the railway pass can make honest men steal was never\nillustrated more clearly than when the Southern Railroad of J. P. Morgan,\na few days ago, filched $142,000 from the taxpayers of this country.\n\nIt was a shameless, impudent, vulgarly common steal\u2014nothing else. The\nCongressmen who stole this money for the Wall Street King, J. P. Morgan,\nwere led by the well-known statesman of Alabama, John H. Bedstead.\n\nMany and many a year ago a stupid Post-Office Department adopted the\npolicy of paying subsidies to certain railroads for the carriage of mails\nwhich they had already contracted to carry.\n\nIt is doubtful whether a single dollar of this money was well spent. To\nsecure the ridiculously high prices which the government pays for the\ncarriage of the mail, the railroads could always have been induced to\ncontract for as speedy a delivery as was possible.\n\nSubsidies could not make them do more. Even a stupid P. O. Department\nwoke up to this fact, at last, and quit paying the subsidies.\n\nMails were carried just as fast after that as before.\n\nThe rate of payment is so high\u2014the plum so very luscious\u2014that the\ncorporation could not refuse the contracts, _especially when they could\nborrow a rascally congressman\u2019s frank, stuff the bags with bogus mail,\nand thus secure a false average of weight upon which they were paid for\nthe whole year_.\n\n(Congressman Livingston of Georgia can tell you how this is done.)\n\nBut the Southern Railroad clung to the subsidy.\n\n_It needed the money_, as Meredith of Virginia once plaintively stated in\nthe House.\n\nThe P. O. Department no longer asked it or advised it\u2014but certain\ncongressmen from the South who are ravenously fond of free passes stood\nby the hungry corporation, and at every session of Congress this subsidy\nis voted.\n\nThe false pretense, used as an excuse, is that it secures _fast mail for\nthe South_.\n\nThere is no truth in the statement. Under an ordinary contract for mail\ncarriage, the government can secure precisely the same service as the\nrailroad gives in return for the subsidy. In other words, the $142,000\nis _a gift to the Wall Street Monarch, J. P. Morgan_.\n\nHon. James H. Blount of Georgia was for many years Chairman of the\nCommittee on Post-Offices and Post Roads.\n\nHe understood every detail of that service. He bitterly opposed this\nsubsidy. I myself heard him denounce it in the most wrathful manner;\nand he declared on the floor of the House that the people got nothing\nwhatever for it.\n\nIt was a donation\u2014nothing more.\n\nBlount\u2019s place in Congress is now partially filled by a different kind of\nman\u2014and the indignant protest of the South against the contemplated steal\nwas not voiced by him or by any other member from Georgia.\n\nThat honor was won by Tennessee.\n\nWhen Hon. John A. Moon and John Wesley Gaines denounced this subsidy as\nit deserved, they earned the applause and the grateful remembrance of\nevery honest man in the South.\n\nThe Hon. R. B. Macon of Arkansas also deserves the highest credit for his\nopposition to the theft.\n\nOf course, \u201cSlippery Jim\u201d Richardson of Tennessee rushed to the relief of\nthe corporation, _as \u201cSlippery Jim\u201d always does_, and the robbers, led by\nthe Bedstead statesman of Alabama, prevailed.\n\nThe Congressman from Georgia, or Alabama or any other Southern state who\nhelps Samuel Spencer and J. P. Morgan steal the taxes of the people upon\nthe plea that it is done for the benefit of the South, merits the scorn\nand contempt of every decent Southern man.\n\nBut those who excuse their votes upon that pretense are hypocrites, or\ndupes.\n\nThey know, or should know, that the subsidy gives no benefit to the South\nwhich she would not be entitled to under an ordinary mail contract.\n\nThe Congressmen who stole this money from the treasury for Morgan\u2019s\nRailroad were seduced _by the indirect bribery of railway favors_\u2014JUST\nTHAT, and NOTHING ELSE.\n\n\n                              _Two Outlaws_\n\nOnce upon a time there was a great lawyer, orator, financier and\nstatesman who was honest. He bore himself among men with the port of a\nking, and even strangers, when they passed him on the streets, would stop\nand look back at that majestic figure with involuntary admiration. To\nsee him was to get a new idea of the natural impressiveness of a great\nman. To hear him talk was to learn more than you had ever dreamed of the\ninfinite variety of creative intellect.\n\nI knew him well. And I looked up to him as I have since looked up to the\nhigher summits of the Rocky Mountains\u2014with wondering awe for height which\nI might never hope to reach.\n\nRoyal as this man was in all his ways, his heart was warm and true. Pure\nas the woman he called wife in his loyalty to the marriage tie, his\nmorality recognized the double-life nowhere, and he scorned all that was\nmean and false and cruel and oppressive.\n\nAlways and everywhere he was for the under-dog.\n\nA more stalwart soldier of Right never stood up in defense of the weak.\n\nIn a murder case he was able to command a fee of ten thousand dollars;\nbut he was proudest of that triumph he won in the court-house when he\nvolunteered to defend a penniless negro, and saved the life of the\naccused by tearing open his shirt and showing the scars which the black\nman had received on a battlefield in Virginia while defending the life of\nhis young master.\n\nHaving incurred the displeasure of the Federal authorities prior to\nthe Civil War and by certain conduct of his during that war, the best\nGovernment the world ever saw told him to \u201cgit up and git\u201d\u2014and he did it.\nIn his native land he was outlawed.\n\nHe went to Europe for his health.\n\nWhile waiting for the wrath of Thaddeus Stevens to cool, he studied\nconditions abroad\u2014particularly the railroad systems and the public\nschools.\n\nUpon his return home he created a demand for a new Constitution for his\nState, and in the convention which framed it he was the undisputed leader.\n\nThe legislative appropriations for the convention were spent before\nthe Constitution was finished, and the patriots were about to disband.\nAverage patriotism moves on its belly, as an army does.\n\nThe Georgia outlaw of whom I have been writing borrowed $25,000 from his\nCotton Factors, and financed the convention until the Constitution was\nfinished.\n\nOn two occasions only was this Outlaw ever seen to weep in public\u2014once\nwhen the Constitutional Convention of Georgia thanked him for his\nprincely generosity, and once when he stood at the coffin of Alexander H.\nStephens to deliver the memorial address.\n\nIn the new Constitution of Georgia the Outlaw believed he had embodied\nthree grand provisions:\n\n(1) He had made the looting of the treasury a difficult job.\n\n(2) He had established a system of public schools to educate at public\nexpense the children of the poor as well as the rich.\n\n(3) He had put a curb on corporation tyranny; made it illegal for\ncompetitive lines of railways to combine, and had created a commission to\nregulate and control the transportation companies.\n\nThis was the Georgia Outlaw\u2019s proudest work. He exulted over it; he\nregarded it as his monument: he relied on it to benefit his people for\ngenerations to come.\n\nIn this belief he lived out the remnant of his days, and in this belief\nhe died.\n\nWhere are now the competing railroads in Georgia?\n\nWe have none. Mergers, leases, allied interests have swallowed them all.\nMonopoly rules from border to border. Constitutional provisions are dead\nletters.\n\nThe corporations who nullify our law and plunder our people keep paid\ncorruptionists busy all the year round to defeat investigation and\nreform.\n\nWhen the legislature meets, these professional corruptionists all flock\nto the Capitol. They remain throughout the session.\n\nIf any member seeks to vindicate the outraged Constitution, these\nlobbyists employ every weapon known to the armory of corruptionists to\nkill the measure.\n\nThe campaign fund with which the present Governor beat his competitor was\nfurnished by the railroads.\n\nThe notorious Hamp McWorter, State lobbyist for the Southern Railroad,\nwas tendered a place on the Supreme Bench by this Governor, who owed his\nelection to railroad money.\n\nThe Railroad Commission has been reduced to a state bordering on\nimbecility. If they pass orders which the corporations dislike the orders\nare ignored. They no more control the railroads than the saddle on a\nhorse controls the horse.\n\nThree excellent gentlemen draw comfortable salaries for acting as\ncommissioners; the railroad lawyers have something to play with; the\ncorporations are sometimes annoyed by having to evade direct answers to\ntroublesome questions, and by having to get a Federal Judge to discipline\nthe Commission; but that is about all.\n\n_J. P. Morgan is the absolute king of the railroads of Georgia._\n\nHe makes the Governor, controls the Legislature, overrides the Commission\nand tramples the Constitution of the State under his feet.\n\nThe Georgia Outlaw made the Constitution for the good of the people; the\nWall Street Outlaw violates it for the good of Wall Street plutocrats.\n\nIn making the Constitution, the Georgia Outlaw had the help of the best\npeople of the State, and his work was sanctioned by a popular vote after\nit was finished.\n\nIn violating the Constitution, J. P. Morgan has the aid of the worst men\nin Georgia, and they dare not submit their work to a free vote of the\npeople.\n\nThe party machinery of the Democratic party is prostituted to the vile\nuses of the corporation lobbyists, and the negro vote is held in reserve\nto be used as a club to beat down any organized opposition.\n\nThe Georgia Outlaw who made our Constitution was a Democrat; the Wall\nStreet Outlaw who violates it is a Republican.\n\nGeorgia is a Democratic state. The Democratic party is in full control of\nevery branch of the Government.\n\nThus we have an amazing spectacle. A Republican Wall Street outlaw uses\nthe machinery of the Democratic party in Georgia to trample upon the\nConstitution and plunder the people.\n\nWhat is the secret of this astonishing situation?\n\nBribery\u2014direct and indirect BRIBERY.\n\nDaily and weekly newspapers subsidized; rebates given to certain\nshippers; favors granted where they will do the most good; campaign\nfunds supplied to needy candidates; free passes dealt out by the bushel;\nprincely salaries paid to plausible lobbyists.\n\nBribery, _bribery_, BRIBERY!\n\nIn no other way can you account for such a shocking state of affairs.\n\nWhen Democrats hold down a Democratic State while a Wall Street\nRepublican robs it, there is just one explanation\u2014only one\u2014BRIBERY.\n\n\n                        _Building on Sand, Again_\n\nWith a strenuous rush and clang and clatter, President Roosevelt has set\nout to solve the Railroad Problem.\n\nAll honor to him for the motive. To his everlasting credit be it\nremembered that he recognized the abuses of the present system and\nshouldered the task of reform.\n\nBut Mr. Roosevelt\u2019s remedy will never reach the seat of the disease.\n\nIn a case of blood poison, shin-plasters for surface abrasions never yet\nsaved the patient; and Mr. Roosevelt\u2019s plans for another tribunal _to\ncontrol the railroads_ are mere shin-plasters.\n\nThe trouble is that _the corporations will control the new tribunals_,\njust as they have controlled the old ones.\n\nThe tremendous pressure which combined capital can bring to bear upon any\ntribunal which Congress creates will be irresistible in the future, as\nit has been in the past. Poor human nature is simply unable to withstand\ntemptations which assume so many seductive forms, and intimidations which\nassail natural weakness in such a variety of ways. So vast is the power\nof the corporations to reward or punish, enrich or impoverish, that\nindividuals sink into nothingness by comparison. No man is beyond their\nreach. If they cannot act upon the official himself, they can strike him\nthrough his family, or relatives, or friends, or business connections.\n\nSomewhere, within the little world in which he lives, they will find\nsomeone who will yield to their temptations or surrender to their power\nto hurt.\n\nRailroads have been known to do great things for the son of a Judge who\nwas about to try an important case.\n\nGovernors, Senators, Judges, Railroad Commissioners sometimes have\nrelatives who are more or less willing to get hold of a good thing.\n\nThe wives of the same sometimes have approachable kinsmen who, for a\nconsideration, are willing to speak superciliously of the \u201cdemagogues\u201d\nwho assail corporations.\n\nThen, again, the newspapers\u2014those busy bees!\u2014can be so trained by\ncorporation cunning that they will give us their sting instead of their\nhoney.\n\nIf Sir Statesman votes with a serene disregard for Sir Demagogue, giving\nthe railroads what they want, Editorial prowess will take care of him.\nHis praises will resound, until his sublime head bumps against the stars.\nBut should he be his own master, obeying no orders save those of his\nconscience, the corporation organs can so belittle him, slander him, and\nmanufacture lies about him, that he almost grows ashamed of having been\nhonest.\n\nIn short, the corporation can make \u201ca good time\u201d for those who serve it,\nand \u201ca bad time\u201d for those who defy it.\n\n_Do not all men know this?_\n\nThe more necessary any official is to combined capital, the more they\nwill do for him, or against him.\n\nCreate any tribunal which becomes an absolute necessity to the\ncorporations\u2014a matter of life and death to them\u2014and they will either\ntempt it with bribes which no virtue can resist, or assail it with\nintimidations which no courage can defy.\n\nMr. President, have you studied the history of \u201cThe Granger Cases\u201d of\nthirty years ago? If not, study it. Then you will know better how the\ncorporations control human tribunals and get rid of laws which are\nobstacles.\n\nHave you studied the recent decisions of the Federal Judges on the\nquestion of fixing \u201creasonable rates\u201d? If not, study them.\n\nYou will then know better what a monkey a railroad lawyer can make of a\nFederal Judge.\n\nTo create another tribunal for the purpose of controlling the railroads,\nis simply the building of another house upon sand.\n\nThe only solution of the Railroad Problem is national ownership, _which\ntakes away the motive to do wrong_.\n\nIn no other way can you cure the disease.\n\nInstead of establishing another Court, or Commission, for the\ncorporations to play with, assert the principle of Eminent Domain, assess\nthe railroads at a fair valuation, pay for them partly in treasury\nnotes and partly in twenty-year two per cent. bonds, place the general\nmanagement of the property under the Interior Department\u2014and _then_ the\nrailroads will no more think of free passes, rebates and discriminations\nthan the Post-Office service does of free stamps, or privileged patrons\nwho must be enriched at the expense of the other patrons.\n\n\n                            _Look at England_\n\n_Collier\u2019s Weekly_ thinks that the United States should pay higher\nsalaries. Ambassadors do not get enough. Neither do cabinet officers. The\nPresident also is underpaid. How lamentable!\n\n\u201cLook at England,\u201d says _Collier\u2019s_, in effect.\n\nEngland pays $100,000 to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, $35,000 to the\nSpeaker of the House of Commons, and so forth and so on.\n\nWell, let us accept the invitation, and _look at England_.\n\n_Who pays the taxes in England?_ We know who pays them here. With us the\npoor man pays the tax.\n\nWhen he covers his nakedness, when he satisfies his hunger, when\nhe builds his house, when he buys tools to work with, he pays an\noutrageously oppressive Tariff tax.\n\nRockefeller pays no more Federal tax than is paid by many a one-horse\nnegro farmer in the South.\n\nMorgan pays less Federal tax than many a Western corn-grower who fed his\nstove on ear corn in 1891, because it was cheaper than coal.\n\nBlessed are our millionaires! Those of them who are neglected by Congress\nare tenderly cared for by the Federal judiciary.\n\nBlessed are the rich!\u2014they run the government, and the common man pays\nthe bill.\n\nLOOK AT ENGLAND!\n\nAll right, we now look. This is what we see:\n\n_She compels her railway corporations to pay an Income Tax_ upon the\nassessed valuation of $190,000,000.\n\n_She compels the Coal Barons and the marble quarry owners to pay Income\nTax_ upon an assessed valuation of $95,000,000.\n\n_She compels the landlords, bankers and merchant princes to pay Income\nTax_ upon an assessed valuation of $900,000,000.\n\nIn this manner _she forces her wealthy classes_ to pay on property and\nincome nearly _two hundred million dollars annually_ toward the support\nof the government!\n\n_Her tariff duties are levied exclusively upon articles which are NOT\nnecessaries of life._\n\nNot a dollar of Tariff need the poor man pay to live in perfect comfort.\n\nThis tariff upon the non-necessaries amounts to $170,000,000.\n\nFrom intoxicating liquors the revenue is $150,000,000.\n\nThus it will be seen, by a look at England, that _the poor man can feed\nhimself, clothe himself, build a house to live in, and supply it with\nnecessary furniture without having to pay one dollar of national tax_.\n\nIn this land of the free _he must pay the Tariff tax, or go naked, eat\ngrass, and live in a hole in the ground_.\n\nBut let us \u201clook at England\u201d again.\n\nWe see her operating her Post-Office, carrying parcels as well as\nletters. She does not allow express companies to amass fortunes by\nrobbing the people in the carrying of light freight.\n\nThus she makes $70,000,000 instead of letting the corporations make five\ntimes that amount.\n\nShe owns and operates the telegraph lines, and makes $18,000,000 per year\ninstead of letting the corporations make it.\n\nWhat, therefore, is the net result of the \u201cLook at England\u201d?\n\nWe discover that _the government supports itself upon the possessions of\nthe people rather than upon their necessities_.\n\nGive us the same system of taxation\u2014compel _those who possess the wealth\nto pay the_ expenses of government\u2014and I, for one, will say, \u201c_Make the\nsalaries what you will so long as you, who make them, have to pay them_.\u201d\n\n\n                          _Editorial Comments_\n\nNOTORIOUSLY, you cannot convict a cow-thief when eleven of the jury got\npart of the beef. Judge Swayne owes his escape to similar conditions. He\nwas acquitted by the United States Senate not because he was innocent,\nbut because he was regular. He had not done anything which the\nSenatorial Jury does not constantly do.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA railroad fell into the Federal Court of which Swayne happened to be\nthe presiding judge. Swayne possesses and controls this railroad through\nthe medium of a receiver. In law and in morals Swayne is the trustee\nof the property, administering it for the benefit of the owners\u2014the\nstockholders. Had he put his fingers into the cash-drawer at the ticket\noffice and stolen five dollars, his crime would have been clear,\nindefensible. Proof of such an act would have compelled a unanimous\nverdict of guilty\u2014even in the United States Senate\u2014for Senators do not do\nit that way.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut Swayne knows how the game is played, and he played according to rule.\n\nThat is to say, he made use of the trust funds which were in his\npossession and control, to fit himself up a palace car and stock it\nwith the best eatables and drinkables. He then took on, as a retinue\nof servants, the employees who were paid to work for the stockholders,\nand appropriated car, provisions, employees and all to his own private\npurposes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith this luxurious car, upon which he had spent the trust funds\ncommitted to his care, he took himself and family on long pleasure trips\nto his native place in Delaware. In this rolling palace he and his family\nenjoyed a tour of the West.\n\nThe sum total of the trust funds which he thus converted to his own use\ncould not have been less than thousands of dollars, for the car and its\nequipment would have been worth hundreds of dollars per day had it been\nused by its owners, the stockholders.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThese facts were not denied.\n\nIn law and morals, Judge Swayne misappropriated trust funds.\n\nHe did not go to the cash-drawer at the ticket office and steal\nfive dollars, but he took charge of the car, the supplies and the\nemployees whose services would have put thousands of dollars into the\ncash-drawers, and thus converted to his own private use the property\nwhich was in his Court for management and final disposition.\n\nHere was a plain case of dishonest use of power and opportunity.\n\nHere was a plain case of robbery\u2014the Federal Judge taking that which\nbelonged to the stockholders and which should have earned them thousands\nof dollars.\n\nIn morals and sound law, the crime is the same as it would have been had\nhe embezzled the same sum in dollars and cents.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Washington _Post_ argues that the President should have a salary of\n$100,000.\n\nAll right. Let us levy a tax or two on the rich, and raise the salaries\nwhich the organs of the rich say are too small.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf the President is discontented with his pay, why doesn\u2019t he throw up\nhis job?\n\nI know several fellows who will take it at the present price.\n\nThere is W. J. B., for instance.\n\nI haven\u2019t the faintest doubt that he would be willing to quit editing\n_The Commoner_ and assume Presidential burdens at $50,000 per year. It\nwould be easier work, don\u2019t you know, than making twenty-two speeches a\nday for a candidate like Parker, a platform like that of St. Louis 1904,\nand a National Chairman like Tom Taggart\u2014the gambling-hell man of Indiana.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGovernor Folk, of Missouri, was elected to stop boodling, banish bribery\nand otherwise purify the political atmosphere.\n\nA bill was promptly introduced into the Legislature to make it possible\nto convict and punish bribery.\n\nThe Senate promptly killed the bill.\n\nFolk is still Governor, however.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPopulists throughout the country regard with demure interest the modest\nstrides which Kansas is taking in State-Socialism.\n\nThat Republican State is to own and operate oil refineries to the end\nthat Rockefeller\u2019s Trust may not swallow the earth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBesides the Kansas State refinery, the Republican legislature favors\nother things which are _almost_ new under the sun.\n\nNo trust, corporation or private partnership shall be allowed to sell\ncheaper in one place than in another in Kansas\u2014freight being deducted.\n\nAll over that State the price must be the same.\n\nMaximum freight rates have been established, oil pipe lines have been\nmade common carriers, and the pumping of Kansas gas out of Kansas\nforbidden.\n\nIs it possible that we Populists are to find ourselves reduced to a state\nof mere \u201ceminent respectability\u201d by such thoroughgoing revolutionists as\nthe Republicans of Kansas?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Washington _Post_ says:\n\n\u201cAfter Kansas gets her oil refinery in operation she may find that Mr.\nRockefeller will not allow his railroads to carry its product.\u201d\n\nWhen Rockefeller refuses to haul Kansas oil because Kansas operates a\nrefinery he will probably discover that Kansas can do a thing or two\nagainst his railroads.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Theodore Roosevelt was a very, very young man, he wrote a \u201cLife of\nGouverneur Morris\u201d in which the youthful author sweepingly classified Tom\nPaine as \u201ca filthy little atheist.\u201d\n\nNow that Teddy has grown great upon the meat which C\u00e6sar fed on, the\nUniversity of Pennsylvania has conferred an Honorary Degree upon him.\n\nThis is the same institution which conferred an Honorary Degree upon Tom\nPaine.\n\nSo there you are.\n\nTo the extent that the University of Pennsylvania can equalize the\neminence of Teddy and Tom, equality has been established.\n\nSo far as the University of Pennsylvania can link the two names together,\nthey are linked.\n\nWhether he likes it or not, Teddy must promenade down the corridors of\ntime and fame arm in arm with the \u201cfilthy little atheist.\u201d\n\nHere is a case where that one of the Grecian philosophers who laughed at\neverything would weep: and where that one who wept at everything would\nlaugh.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTom Paine being dead cannot resent the honors paid Roosevelt by any act\nof renunciation aimed at the University of Pennsylvania; but Teddy lives\nand can defend his virtue from contaminating contact.\n\nWill he tamely submit to wear the Academic honor tainted by the touch\nof Tom Paine, or will he spurn it with that disdain which condensed the\ncareer of a much-enduring, much-achieving patriot and democrat in the\ncruelly scornful words, \u201ca dirty little atheist\u201d?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhenever, in the hour of gloom and doubt, we call upon the presidents of\nour world-famous colleges for guidance we get it. Which is one of the\nreasons why we are still in the dark.\n\nA couple of years since, the chief sage of one of these world-famous\ninstitutions told us that Social Ostracism was the medicine for the Trust\nevil which would prove a cure-all.\n\nThe chief sage neglected to inform us how and when we should or could\ndose the wicked corporations with this medicine: hence we have not as yet\nsocially ostracized J. P. Morgan, Ogden Armour or John D. Rockefeller.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWoodrow Wilson, chief sage of Princeton University, is the latest of the\nacademic guides who offers to pilot us out of the gloom.\n\n\u201cTrusts,\u201d remarks Woodrow (who, just between you and me, is something of\na prig), \u201cTrusts can never be abolished.\u201d\n\n\u201c_We must moralize them._\u201d\n\n\u201cThe thing that keeps water in stocks is secrecy.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Publicity is the remedy._\u201d\n\nWhen we hear the chief sage of Princeton droning and driveling this sort\nof nonsense we wonder whether his mind is fixed upon the actual men,\nmethods and standards of today, or whether he gropes in some Arcadia of\nthe past.\n\n\u201c_Moralize the Trusts?_\u201d\n\nHow will you do it, impractical prig?\n\nMr. Rockefeller is moral, isn\u2019t he? Goes to church every Sunday, endows\nBaptist colleges, sends young John to teach Sabbath school and attend\nEnglish revivals, prates of morality and the Bible to equal any Pecksniff\nthat ever stole the livery of the Lord to shear the sheep in.\n\nYet where was there ever a more ruthless criminal on the face of the\nearth than Rockefeller\u2019s Oil Trust?\n\n\u201cThe thing that keeps water in stocks is secrecy.\u201d\n\nNo, it isn\u2019t, impractical prig.\n\nIt\u2019s water that keeps the water in the stocks.\n\nSecrecy has nothing to do with it.\n\n_The public always knows when the watering is done!_\n\nIt was so with the Steel Combine; it has been so with every railroad\nreorganization which Morgan has managed; it was so with Amalgamated\nCopper.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201c_Publicity is the remedy!_\u201d says Woodrow, the Sage.\n\nHow can that be?\n\nDoes the knowledge that we are being robbed stop the robbery?\n\nThere is no secrecy about the Beef Trust. Publicity there has run riot.\n\nWe know all about the Refrigerator car, the rebate, the discriminations,\nthe Big Stick methods, the colossal, un-Godly profits.\n\nWe know how the cattle owner is robbed when the Trust buys, and how the\nconsumer of dressed meat is robbed when he buys.\n\nWhat good does the Publicity do us?\n\nNone at all.\n\nIt makes us rage and rant, but the Trust gets our money just the same.\n\nHave not Lawson and Russell and Ida Tarbell and Lincoln Steffens and\na dozen others put the flashlight upon all these monstrous piratical\ncombinations until the very children are familiar with the details?\n\n_Publicity?_\n\nWhy, if there is anything that we have got a lavish supply of, just now,\n_it is Publicity_.\n\nWhat we haven\u2019t got is RELIEF.\n\nIf _Publicity_ were a cure for the disease, we\u2019d have been well long ago.\n\nAs it is, the evil grows worse, day by day, in spite of all the\n_Publicity_.\n\nGo back to thy gerund-grinding, Woodrow\u2014thou insufferable, impractical\nprig. Among the dead Greeks and the extinct Romans thy labors may, haply,\nbe useful; but when thou comest among the practical men of today seeking\nto master actual conditions and to take part in the great battle of\nthought, motive and purpose which rages around us, thou art but \u201ca babby,\nand a gal babby at that.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMr. Bryan says, in his _Commoner_, that \u201cthe movement begun in 1896\nwould have succeeded in 1900 had it not been for the Spanish War and the\nincrease of the gold supply.\u201d\n\nWhat a superficial view!\n\nFirst of all, the \u201cmovement\u201d did not begin in 1896.\n\nIt began when the West and South were brought together by the Farmers\u2019\nAlliance in 1890. It was in full swing when it gave General Weaver\n1,200,000 votes in 1892. It was running like a millrace when it polled\n1,800,000 in the local elections of 1894. It would have scored a triumph\nin 1896 had the Democratic leaders acted honestly with the Populists.\n\nAfter 1896 the \u201cmovement\u201d lost strength every day.\n\nIn 1900 it was doomed to defeat before the campaign opened.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYes; the reform \u201cmovement\u201d was in full swing in 1890, and one of the good\nthings it did was to float into Congress a promising young lawyer named\nBryan.\n\nTo the Populist movement W. J. B. owes his rise, for there were then no\nDemocrats to speak of in Nebraska.\n\nPopulist votes carried his home State for him in 1896, when he ran for\nPresident against McKinley.\n\nIn 1900 Nebraska went Republican, although the same Bryan was running\nagainst the same McKinley.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey are hunting, in Paris, for the bones of John Paul Jones, the first\nand greatest sea captain who ever flew the Stars and Stripes from the\nmasthead of a battleship, and \u201cheld the ocean lists against the world in\nmail.\u201d\n\nCongress gives $35,000 to find the bones, and of course they will be\nfound\u2014not those of the original Jones, perhaps, but a good enough lot of\nbones for that amount of money.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHad Gouverneur Morris, the American Minister to France, done his duty at\nthe time of Paul Jones\u2019s death, by giving him a respectable funeral and\na modest tombstone, the people of this country would not now be taxed\n$35,000 to find the hero\u2019s grave.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen John Paul Jones\u2014old, broken and poor\u2014lay dying in Paris, our\nhigh-toned Minister to France, Gouverneur Morris, sat feasting with\naristocratic company, and that high-toned Minister failed to mark the\ngrave of a man who with Nelson\u2019s chances might have done even more than\nNelson on the sea.\n\nHis grave was made in an obscure churchyard, his resting-place neglected\nand forgotten, covered with accumulated deposits, and built over with\nhouses.\n\nThose who seek the bones are sinking holes seventeen feet deep, in the\nsearch.\n\nOf course, they will find the body of Commodore Jones. That is what they\nare hunting for. Therefore, they will find it.\n\nBut whether the dust they bring back to America will be that of _our_\nPaul Jones no mortal will ever know.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn his Diary, Gouverneur Morris relates:\n\n\u201cA message from Paul Jones that he is dying.\n\n\u201cI go thither and make his will.... Send for a Notary, _and leave him\nstruggling with his enemy_.\u201d\n\nThe American Minister to France left Paul Jones struggling with death!\n\nLeft him alone with a French Notary, and went away.\n\nTo do what?\n\nTo \u201cdine with Lord Gower and Lady Sutherland\u201d!\n\nThe American Minister knew that Paul Jones was dying, for he says so.\n\nAfter the dinner with the English Lord and Lady, does the American\nMinister hasten back to the bedside of the fellow-countryman whom he had\nleft \u201cstruggling with his enemy\u201d?\n\nBy no means.\n\nHe goes to the Louvre to look at the paintings; and then takes\nTalleyrand\u2019s mistress with him to Jones\u2019s lodging.\n\n\u201cBut he is dead\u2014_not yet cold_.\u201d\n\nAnd this is all that Gouverneur Morris\u2019s Diary records of Paul Jones\u2019s\ndeath, until the indignation aroused in America by his shocking lack of\nattention to the dying hero had thrown him upon the defensive.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWho paid the burial expenses of Paul Jones?\n\nA Frenchman claims that he did it.\n\nMorris, in his Diary, certainly seeks to make the impression that he paid\nthem out of Jones\u2019s estate.\n\nThe hero left sufficient property for the purpose, as can easily be\nshown. Further than that we are left in doubt.\n\nBut Morris was requested to authorize a public funeral, in which fitting\nhonors should be paid to the dead. Morris refused. He states that he\n(Morris) desired \u201ca private and economical funeral.\u201d\n\nHe got it. The funeral was so economical and so private that neither the\ntongue of repute, identifying the grave from generation to generation,\nnor the more unerring evidence of shaft or vault guides the footsteps of\nthose who come so late, so late! to repair the neglect of a hundred years.\n\n\n                   _How Private Ownership Breaks Down_\n\nIn the great city of New York there is a Subway, an underground street,\nwhich was opened at the expense of the taxpayers. Every dollar of the\nenormous expenditure came out of the pockets of the citizens of New York.\nAfter this Subway had been completed and paid for by the people, it was\nturned over to a private corporation to be used for private profit. It\nis unnecessary to say that such a stupendous piece of folly could never\nhave been committed by wise men or honest men. On the face of it, the\ntransaction reeks with rascality.\n\nLet us, however, contemplate actual results. The men to whom the property\nwas given operate the Subway to make all the money that is possible\nout of the franchise. In doing so they have come into collision with\ntheir employees. The disagreement results in a strike. The experienced\noperators of the cars leave them. Inexperienced men take hold. The\nnecessary consequence is danger to life and limb, which only the careless\nor reckless would incur.\n\nThe thousands of people in New York, to whom the Subway is a daily\nnecessity, are incommoded and injured. The entire city suffers because of\nthe dispute between the corporation and its employees.\n\nI will not enter into the question as to who is to blame for the strike.\nIt is sufficient to say that under private ownership of this public\nthoroughfare the strike does occur and all of its evil consequences\nnaturally follow. No matter whether Belmont is right or wrong; no matter\nwhether his employees are right or wrong, the effect upon the public is\nprecisely the same. The public gets hurt. The public suffers and the\npublic is helpless. Such a situation is surely sufficient to arouse\nthought and investigation.\n\nEver since we have allowed private corporations to take charge of public\nutilities we have had the strike, the riot, the loss of money, the loss\nof life. As long as private ownership continues to exploit these things\nwhich belong to the public, we will continue to have the strike, the\nriot, loss of money and the loss of life.\n\nI say nothing about the amount of which the traveling public is robbed\nby these corporations which own the public utilities. I confine myself\nsimply and solely to this thought, namely, that under private ownership\nthe situation, which now confronts the traveling public of New York City,\nis liable to happen at any time and at any place throughout the Union\nwhere public franchises are used for selfish and private gain.\n\nThat is the fruit of the tree. It always has been; it always will be.\nThat kind of tree will _never_ bear any other sort of fruit.\n\nThen why not cut it down?\n\nPublic ownership removes the _motive_ for misuse of public utilities, and\nwhen the motive goes the evil will go. As long as selfishness and greed\nget _the chance_ to gratify themselves at the public expense, just so\nlong will they do it.\n\nIn every conflict between Capital and Labor the public loses\u2014no matter\nwhether Capital wins or Labor wins.\n\nPublic ownership would do for the railroads what it does for the\nPost-Office, the Police Department or the Fire Department. Who ever heard\nof a strike among the Post-Office employees? Or in the police force? Or\namong the firemen?\n\nIn Germany the railroads are owned and operated by the Government, and\nnobody ever heard of traffic being blocked by a strike. In Austria the\nstory is the same. In Australia it is the same. In New Zealand it is the\nsame. Nowhere on earth, so far as I know, has there ever been a strike\nwhen the principle of government ownership was in operation. Take those\ncities of England where the street cars are owned and operated by the\ncity government. Who has ever heard of a strike on those lines? From\nLiverpool to Birmingham and from Birmingham to Glasgow you will find the\nprinciple of public ownership applied with perfect success, and nowhere\nhas the operation of public utilities by the public been stopped by a\nstrike.\n\nIt seems almost impossible for the people of our great cities to learn\nthe lesson taught by our own troubles, and taught further by the\nobject-lessons furnished us by nationalities which are not such cowardly\nslaves of the corporations as we seem to be. The most amazing feature in\nAmerican life today is the audacity with which predatory corporations\nride forth, like the feudal barons of olden times, to strike down the\naverage citizen and rob him of what he makes as fast as he makes it.\nIndividually, we have plenty of courage, but, collectively, we are the\nmost cowardly creatures on earth. The communal spirit seems to be dead\nwithin us. Public opinion is in its infancy. The strength which lies\ndormant within us because of our numbers seems to be a fact of which the\nmasses are totally ignorant.\n\nActing swiftly, acting with unity of purpose, acting with the keenest\nintelligence, acting with a magnificent courage, the outlaws of modern\ncommercialism dash at their object with superb confidence in their\nprowess, and they have seized and ridden away with the spoils before the\ndrowsy, ignorant and timid public have awakened to the fact that they\nhave been raided, stricken down and plundered.\n\nIf the city government of New York had at its head a man \u201cwith a beard\non his chin,\u201d he could find a way to solve this Subway problem and\nall kindred problems within a few weeks, and in such a manner that it\nwould never be presented again. He would have to be intelligent, he\nwould have to be honest, he would have to be brave, but if he had these\nqualities and were, besides, a patriot wishing to do what is best for\nthe entire community, he could win a victory which would repeat itself\nin all the centres of our population, and which would terminate the\nreign of rascality which now exploits, for personal ends, the powers and\nthe opportunities of public office in almost every great city of this\nRepublic.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYou ask me _how_ could the Mayor do anything, when the Subway is legally\nin the hands of a Commission created by the Legislature?\n\nI answer that the city has the right to use its streets. One of its\nsovereign powers, inherent and absolute, is that of keeping its streets\nopen for the safe and free use of every citizen. Nobody has the right to\nblock travel or traffic, nor can the Legislature grant such a privilege.\n\nAs to the Subway, it is a street under the ground. True, the _methods_\nwhich he would have to employ differ from those which he would apply to\na surface street, but the _principle_ would be precisely the same in the\none case as in the other.\n\nHe could say to Belmont and his employees: \u201cYou are blocking the streets.\nYou are interfering with the rights of the people who paid for the\nSubway and who want to use it. You and your disputes are as nothing to\nme in comparison with the duty which I owe to the city. _Arbitrate your\ndifference_, or I will exert the full sovereign power of the municipality\nto seize the Subway and to open it to travel.\n\n\u201cAnd you needn\u2019t run to any judge for an injunction, either. In the\nexercise of supreme executive authority policing the city and keeping\nopen its streets, I shall tolerate no interference whatever from\ncorporation lawyers or corporation judges. I give you fair warning:\n_Arbitrate_, and do it quickly\u2014else the city takes what is hers, and\noperates the cars which you have tied up!\u201d\n\nWho doubts that a threat like this, made by the right kind of Mayor,\nwould bring Belmont to his senses in a couple of minutes? Arbitrate! Of\ncourse he would arbitrate\u2014quickly and gladly.\n\nAnd the Mayor would have the enthusiastic support of ninety-nine men out\nof every hundred in New York.\n\n\n\n\n                              _The Patriot_\n\n\n    His eyes ashine with ancient memories,\n      His blood aglow with subtle racial fire,\n      For him are quenched the stirrings of desire.\n    The pageant of the world has ceased to please;\n    Hushed are the evening songs\u2014the lutes of ease;\n      In the war flame, that old ancestral pyre,\n      He casts his hopes of home, wife, child or sire;\n    Instinct of race, a passion more than these,\n    The spirit of his country, holds him thrall;\n      In him forgotten heroes, forbears, rise,\n      Strengthening his heart to common sacrifice;\n    Out of the darkness generations call\n    And martyr hosts, that unrecorded fall,\n      Salute him from the void with joyful cries.\n\n                               LONDON DAILY NEWS.\n\n\n\n\n                     _The Atonement of Hustler Joe_\n\n                          (COMPLETE NOVELETTE)\n\n                          BY ELEANOR H. PORTER\n\n\n                                PROLOGUE\n\nA toy horse or a raspberry-tart is not often responsible for the loss of\na life, but a succession of toy horses, raspberry-tarts, and whatever\nelse the heart of a small boy craved, given in a reckless abandonment\nof superfluity, was certainly responsible for the wilfulness in the\ncharacter of Paul Weston; and the wilfulness, in turn, was responsible\nfor the quarrel.\n\nAt twenty he was a restless, impulsive, good-hearted, broad-chested,\nstrong-limbed young fellow, the adored of his mother and the pride of his\nfather. And yet it was over the prostrate form of this same father that\nhe now stood\u2014the crack of the revolver still ringing in his ears, the\nweapon itself still clutched in his hand.\n\nWas the man dead? But a minute before he had been speaking; now there was\na fast-growing pool of something dark and horrible on the floor at his\nside.\n\nPaul Weston brushed the back of his left hand across his eyes and looked\ndown at the still smoking revolver. Had his miserable temper brought him\nto this? His features worked convulsively and his eyes widened in horror.\nThrowing the revolver from him to the farthermost corner of the room, he\nturned and fled.\n\nOut the door, through the gate, and down the long street of the little\nNew England village he ran. It was dusk, but he stumbled as though it\nwere the darkness of midnight.\n\nThe neighbors looked and wondered at the fleeing figure, but only their\neyes spoke disapproval. If Paul Weston chose to use the main street of\nthe village as a race-course, it was not for them to interfere\u2014they knew\nhim too well. The town fool alone ventured to accost him.\n\n\u201cHi, there\u2014go it! What\u2019s after ye?\u201d he shouted; but the jeering words and\nthe vacant smile died on his lips at sight of the face Paul turned upon\nhim.\n\nDown the street, across the open field, and over the fence at a\nbound\u2014surely the friendly shelter of the woods receded as he ran! But his\npace did not slacken even in the dense shadows of the forest. On and on,\nstumbling, falling, tearing his flesh and his clothing on the thorns and\nbrambles until, exhausted, he dropped on a grassy mound, miles away from\nthat dread thing he had left behind him.\n\nThe wind sighed and whispered over his head. Weston had always loved\nthe sound, but tonight it was only an accusing moan in his ears. Even\nthe stars that peeped through the leaves above were like menacing eyes\nseeking out his hiding-place.\n\nAn owl hooted; Weston raised his head and held his breath. Then through\nthe forest came the baying of a distant hound. The man was on his feet in\nan instant. Something tightened in his throat and his heart-beats came in\nslow, suffocating throbs. He knew that sound! They sought for\u2014murderers\nwith creatures like that! With a bound he was away on his wild race\nagain. Hours later, the gray dawn and his nearness to a small village\nwarned him to move more cautiously.\n\nAll that day he tramped, without rest, without food, reaching at night\nthe seaport town that had been his goal. Skulking through the back\nstreets he came to a cheap eating-house down by the wharves.\n\nThe odor of greasily fried meats and bad coffee floated out the open\ndoor, causing Weston to sniff hungrily. In a moment he had thrown caution\nto the winds, entered the restaurant and slunk into the nearest seat.\n\nBy his side lay a discarded newspaper. He reached for it with a shaking\nhand, then snatched his fingers back as though the printed sheet had\nscorched them. No, oh, no\u2014he dared not look at it! His mind\u2019s eye\npictured the headlines, black with horror:\n\n    \u201cMURDER! PARRICIDE! THE\n    FIEND STILL AT LARGE!\u201d\n\nHe pushed back his chair and rushed from the room. An hour later he had\nshipped as a sailor on a vessel bound for San Francisco around Cape Horn.\n\n\n                                    I\n\nThe cracker-barrels and packing-boxes that usually served for seats in\nPedler Jim\u2019s store were, strange to say, unoccupied. Bill Somers, sole\nrepresentative of \u201cthe boys,\u201d sat cross-legged on the end of the counter,\nmeditatively eying a dozen flies that were buzzing happily around a drop\nof molasses nearby. Pedler Jim himself occupied his customary stool\nbehind the counter.\n\nIt was ten years now since the little hunchback pedler first appeared in\nSkinner Valley. He came from no one knew where, driving a battered and\nworn horse attached to a yet more battered and worn pedler\u2019s cart. The\nhorse had promptly taken advantage of the stop in the village, and by\ndying had made sure of never leaving the place for the wearisome trail\nagain. The miners say that the night the old horse died, its master\npatted and stroked the poor dead head until it was cold and stiff, and\nthat the morning found him fondling the useless reins with his shriveled,\nmisshapen fingers.\n\nThe next day he bartered for a tiny piece of land fronting the main\nstreet. When he had wheeled his old cart into proper position upon it,\nhe busied himself some time with a bit of board and a paint pot, finally\nproducing a rough sign bearing the single word \u201cStore.\u201d This creation he\nnailed with much satisfaction upon the front of the dashboard, then sat\ndown on one of the thills to wait for a customer.\n\nPerhaps it was the oddity of the thing; or perhaps there was something\nin the deformed little body that appealed to the strong-limbed,\nstraight-backed miners; or perhaps it was the wonderful knowledge of\nhealing herbs and soothing lotions that Pedler Jim possessed\u2014perhaps\nit was a little of all three. At all events, the new store prospered\namazingly so that in a year its owner bought more land, trundled the\nold cart to the rear, and erected a small cabin on his lot. This, in\nturn, gave place to a good-sized frame building bearing the imposing\ngilt-lettered sign:\n\n                            JAMES A. POWERS,\n                       _Skinner Valley Emporium_.\n\nThe hunchback rolled this high-sounding title under his tongue with keen\nrelish, but it was still \u201cthe store\u201d to the boys, and its owner was only\n\u201cPedler Jim.\u201d\n\nBill Somers shifted his position on the end of the counter and poked a\nteasing finger at the agitated mass of wings and legs around the molasses\ndrop. The storekeeper grinned appreciatively and broke the silence:\n\n\u201cSay, who\u2019s yer new man?\u201d\n\n\u201cBlest if I know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he\u2019s got a name, hain\u2019t he?\u201d\n\n\u201cMebbe he has\u2014then again, mebbe he hain\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut don\u2019t ye call him nothin\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we _call_ him \u2018Hustler Joe\u2019; but that ain\u2019t no name to hitch a\ngrocery bill on to\u2014eh, Jim?\u201d\n\nThe little hunchback slid from his stool and brought his fist down hard\non the counter.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s jest the point! He don\u2019t git much, but what he does git he pays\nfur\u2014spot cash. An\u2019 that\u2019s more\u2019n I can say of some of the rest of ye,\u201d he\nadded, with a reproachful look.\n\nBill laughed and stretched his long legs.\n\n\u201cI s\u2019pose, now, that\u2019s a dig at me, Jim.\u201d\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t call no names.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know yer lips didn\u2019t, but yer eyes did. Say, how much do I owe,\nanyhow?\u201d\n\nWith manifest alacrity Jim darted over to the pine box that served for a\ndesk.\n\n\u201cThere ain\u2019t no hurry, Jim,\u201d drawled Somers, with a slow smile. \u201cI\nwouldn\u2019t put ye out fur nothin\u2019!\u201d\n\nThe storekeeper did not hear. He was rapidly turning the greasy,\nwell-thumbed pages of the account-book before him.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s jest twenty dollars and fourteen cents, now, Bill,\u201d he said, his\nbrown forefinger pausing after a run down one of the pages. \u201cYe hain\u2019t\npaid nothin\u2019 since Christmas, ye know,\u201d he added significantly.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d sighed Bill, with another slow smile, \u201cmebbe \u2019twouldn\u2019t do no\nharm if I ponied up a bit!\u201d And he plunged both hands into his trousers\npockets.\n\nPedler Jim smiled and edged nearer, while Bill drew out a handful of\nchange and laboriously picked out a dime and four pennies.\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d he said, slapping the fourteen cents on the counter, \u201cnow it\u2019s\neven dollars!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be jiggered!\u201d cried Pedler Jim, turning his back and walking\nover to the window.\n\nSomers looked after the retreating figure, and a broad smile lighted up\nhis round red face. Slipping his hand inside his coat he pulled out a\nroll of greenbacks. In another minute the fourteen cents lay neatly piled\non top of two ten-dollar bills. The man hastily slipped into his old\nposition and coughed meaningly.\n\n\u201cYe don\u2019t seem pleased,\u201d he began.\n\nThe hunchback did not stir.\n\n\u201cMebbe ye don\u2019t want my money,\u201d hazarded the miner.\n\nNo answer.\n\n\u201cOh, well, I can take it back,\u201d and Somers shuffled noisily off his seat.\n\nPedler Jim wheeled about and came down the store with his small black\neyes blazing.\n\n\u201cJiminy Christmas, man! If you ain\u2019t enough ter try a saint! I\u2019m\nblest if I can git mad at ye, though, fur all yer pesterin\u2019 ways. Now\nwhat in thunder\u2014\u201d The storekeeper\u2019s jaw dropped, and his mouth fell\nopen idiotically as his eyes rested on the greenbacks. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be\njiggered!\u201d he murmured again, and clutched the money in his claw-like\nfingers.\n\nAt that moment the outer door opened to admit a tall, broad-shouldered\nminer wearing a slouch hat well over his eyes. In a trice Pedler Jim was\nthe obsequious merchant behind the counter.\n\nThe newcomer gave his order in a low voice and stood motionless while the\nhunchback busied himself in filling it.\n\n\u201cAnything else?\u201d suggested Jim wistfully, as he pushed a small package\ntoward him.\n\n\u201cOh, I guess that\u2019ll do for this time,\u201d returned the man, picking up his\npurchase and motioning toward a dollar bill on the counter.\n\nPedler Jim looked up quickly and something like tenderness came into his\neyes.\n\n\u201cI\u2014guess you\u2019re from Yankee-land, stranger; shake, won\u2019t ye?\u201d he said,\nthrusting his hand across the counter. \u201cGorry! but it\u2019s prime ter see a\ngood old New Englander among all these dagos and Dutchmen and the Lord\nonly knows what else here. Bill an\u2019 me was gittin\u2019 lonesome\u2014I\u2019m glad ye\ncome!\u201d\n\nAt Jim\u2019s first words the stranger had stepped back, but the outstretched\nhand had brought him to the counter again, and he gave the brown fingers\na grip that made the little hunchback wince with pain. But Pedler Jim\u2019s\nwelcome was scarcely spoken before the man had turned and disappeared\nthrough the door.\n\n\u201cWell, I snum! I should think he was \u2018Hustler Joe\u2019!\u201d murmured Jim. \u201cIf\nhe didn\u2019t even hustle off and leave his change,\u201d he added, looking\nhelplessly at the dollar bill on the counter.\n\nSomers laughed.\n\n\u201cHustle!\u2014you\u2019d oughter see him at the mines! why, that man works like\nall possessed. He don\u2019t speak nor look at a soul of us \u2019nless he has to.\nIf there\u2019s a chance ter work extry\u2014he gits it; an\u2019 he acts abused \u2019cause\nhe can\u2019t work every night and Sundays to boot. Gosh! I can\u2019t understand\nhim,\u201d finished Bill, with a yawn and a long stretch.\n\n\u201cThat ain\u2019t ter be wondered at\u2014\u2019tain\u2019t \u2018Hustler Bill\u2019 that the boys call\nyou,\u201d replied Jim, a sly twinkle in his beady little eyes.\n\nSomers sprang to his feet and towered over the hunchback, his fist raised\nin pretended wrath.\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t ye take a feller yer own size?\u201d he demanded.\n\nThe hunchback chuckled, dove under the upraised arm, and skipped around\nthe room like a boy. An encounter like this was meat and drink to him,\nand the miners good-naturedly saw to it that he did not go hungry.\n\nSomers shook his fist at the curious little creature perched on the\nfarthermost cracker-barrel and slouched out the door.\n\n\n                                   II\n\nSkinner Valley did not know very much about Hustler Joe. Six weeks ago he\nhad appeared at the Candria coal mine and asked for work. Since that time\nhe had occupied an old shanty on the hillside\u2014a shanty so hopeless in its\ndecrepitude that it had long been abandoned to bats and owls. Hustler\nJoe, however, had accomplished wonders in the short time he had lived\nthere.\n\nIt was a popular belief in the town that the man never slept. Stray\nwanderers by the shanty had reported hearing the sound of the hammer and\nsaw at all hours of the night. Outside the shanty loose timbers, tin\ncans, rags and refuse had given way to a spaded, raked and seeded lawn.\nThe cabin itself, no longer broken-roofed and windowless, straightened\nits back and held up its head as if aware of its new surroundings.\n\nThis much the villagers could see; but inside it was still a mystery, for\nHustler Joe did not seem to be hospitably inclined, and even the children\ndared not venture too near the cabin door.\n\nIt was vaguely known that the man had come over the mountains from San\nFrancisco, and with that the most were content. Keen eyes and ears like\nPedler Jim\u2019s were not common in the community, and the little hunchback\u2019s\nwelcome to the man because he came from \u201cYankee-land\u201d was not duplicated.\n\nHustler Joe had not been in the habit of frequenting the store. His\ndollar bill was in Pedler Jim\u2019s hands a week before the disturbed\nstorekeeper had an opportunity of handing back the change. The miner had\nforgotten all about the money and had wandered into the store simply\nbecause each stick and stone and dish and chair at home was in its place\nand there was absolutely nothing for his nervous fingers to put in order.\n\nJoe pushed open the door of the \u201cemporium,\u201d then halted in evident\nindecision. A dozen miners were jabbering in half as many languages over\nby the stove, huddled around it as though the month were January instead\nof June, and the stove full of needed heat instead of last winter\u2019s\nashes. Bill Somers lolled on the counter, and Pedler Jim was bowing and\nscraping to a well-dressed stranger whose face Joe could not see.\n\nThe miner had half turned to go when Pedler Jim\u2019s sharp eyes fell upon\nhim. In another moment the hunchback was by his side thrusting some\nchange into his fingers.\n\n\u201cYou forgot it, ye know\u2014when ye bought them nails,\u201d he said hurriedly;\nthen added, \u201cwhy don\u2019t ye come in and set down?\u201d\n\nFor a second Joe hesitated; then he raised his head with a peculiarly\ndefiant up-tilting of his chin, and strolled across the room to an\nunoccupied cracker-barrel behind the gesticulating miners. Pedler Jim\nwent back to his customer.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t find a better smoke within fifty miles!\u201d he said pompously,\ngiving the box of cigars on the counter a suggestive push.\n\nThe well-dressed man gave a disagreeable laugh.\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s hardly saying very much, is it?\u201d he questioned.\n\nAt the stranger\u2019s first words Hustler Joe glanced up sharply. His fingers\ntwitched and a gray look crept around the corners of his mouth. The room,\nthe miners, and Pedler Jim seemed to fade and change like the dissolving\npictures he used to see when a boy. A New England village street drifted\nacross his vision with this well-dressed stranger in the foreground. He\ncould even see a yellow-lettered sign out one of the windows:\n\n                            GEORGE L. MARTIN,\n                           _Counselor at Law_.\n\nThen it all faded into nothingness again\u2014all save the well-dressed\nstranger in the tall black hat. In another minute the jabbering miners,\nBill Somers, and the obsequious hunchback were in their old places, and\nPedler Jim was saying:\n\n\u201cJest try \u2019em, an\u2019 see fur yerself.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll take you at your word,\u201d laughed the stranger, picking\nout a cigar and leisurely striking a match. \u201cIt\u2019s a pity you can\u2019t have\na few more languages going in here,\u201d he added, throwing the dead match\non the floor and glancing at the group around the stove. \u201cI suppose\nBarrington employs mostly foreigners in the mines, eh?\u201d\n\nThe hunchback thrust his brown fingers through his hair and made a wry\nface.\n\n\u201cForeigners!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cI was born and raised in the state of Maine,\nan\u2019 if it wa\u2019n\u2019t fur Bill Somers\u2014he\u2019s from York State\u2014to talk God\u2019s own\nlanguage to me once in awhile, I\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 gone daft long ago!\u201d\n\nThe stranger chuckled softly.\n\n\u201cYou hav\u2019n\u2019t anyone here at the works from New England, then, I take it,\neh?\u201d he asked, with studied carelessness.\n\nA smile crept up from Pedler Jim\u2019s mouth and looked out of his twinkling\neyes.\n\n\u201cWell, we have\u2014\u201d he began, then his eyes suddenly lost their twinkle as\nthey encountered the despairing appeal from beneath Hustler Joe\u2019s slouch\nhat. \u201cWe have\u2014been wishin\u2019 there would be some,\u201d he finished after the\nslightest of hesitations. \u201cWe\u2019ve got everythin\u2019 else under the sun!\u201d\n\nBill Somers\u2019s long legs came down from the counter abruptly.\n\n\u201cWhy, Jim, there\u2019s Hustler Joe\u2014ain\u2019t he from New England?\u201d\n\nThe hunchback\u2019s little beany eyes turned upon Somers and looked him\nthrough and through without winking.\n\n\u201cHustler Joe came over the mountains from San Francisco, I have heard,\u201d\nhe said blandly.\n\n\u201cOh, so he did\u2014so he did!\u201d murmured Somers, and sauntered out the door.\n\nThe man on the cracker-barrel over in the corner pulled his hat down over\nhis eyes and sank back into the shadows.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the stranger, tossing a bill and a small white card on the\ncounter, \u201cput me up a dozen of those cigars of yours, and there\u2019s my\ncard\u2014if you happen to know of any New Englanders coming to these parts,\njust let me know at that address, will you? I\u2019ll make it worth your\nwhile.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good, sir, very good,\u201d murmured Pedler Jim, making a neat package\nof the cigars. \u201cThank you, sir,\u201d he said suavely, holding out the change\nand glancing down at the card; \u201cthank you, Mr.\u2014er\u2014Martin.\u201d And he bowed\nhim out of the store.\n\nOne by one the miners went away; still the figure on the cracker-barrel\nremained motionless. When the last jabbering foreigner had passed through\nthe door, Hustler Joe rose and walked across the room to the pine box\nwhere the storekeeper was bending over his account-book.\n\n\u201cSee here, little chap,\u201d he began huskily, \u201cthat was a mighty good turn\nyou did me a bit ago\u2014just how good it was, I hope to God you\u2019ll never\nknow. What you did it for is a mystery to me; but you did it\u2014and that\u2019s\nenough. I sha\u2019n\u2019t forget it!\u201d\n\nSomething splashed down in front of Pedler Jim, then the outer door\nslammed. When the hunchback turned to his accounts again a blot and a\nblister disfigured the page before him.\n\n\n                                   III\n\nJohn Barrington, the principal owner of the Candria mine, did not\nspend much of his time in Skinner Valley. Still, such time as he did\nspend there he intended to be comfortable. Indeed, the comfort of John\nBarrington\u2014and incidentally of those nearest and dearest to him\u2014was the\none thing in life worth striving for in the eyes of John Barrington\nhimself, and to this end all his energies were bent.\n\nIn pursuance of this physical comfort, John Barrington had built for his\noccasional use a large, richly fitted house just beyond the unpleasant\nsmoke and sounds of the town. A tiny lake and a glorious view had added\nso materially to its charms that the great man\u2019s wife and daughter had\nunconsciously fallen into the way of passing a week now and then through\nthe summer at The Maples, as it came to be called in the family\u2014\u201cSkinner\nValley\u201d being a name to which Miss Ethel\u2019s red lips did not take kindly.\n\nMr. Barrington\u2019s factotum-in-chief at the mines, Mark Hemenway, lived\nat the house the year round. He was a man who took every possible\nresponsibility from his chief\u2019s shoulders and was assiduous in\nrespectful attentions and deferential homage whenever the ladies graced\nthe place with their presence.\n\nTo Ethel this was of little consequence, as she paid no more attention to\nhim than she did to the obsequious servant behind her chair; but to Mrs.\nBarrington he was the one drawback to complete enjoyment of the place.\n\nMark Hemenway was a man of limited means, but of unlimited ambitions.\nEvery day saw him more and more indispensable to his comfort-loving\nemployer, and every day saw him more and more determined to attain to his\nlatest desire\u2014nothing less than the hand of this same employer\u2019s daughter\nin marriage.\n\nIn a vague way Mrs. Barrington was aware of this, though Hemenway was,\nas yet, most circumspect in his actions. Mrs. Barrington was greatly\ndisturbed, otherwise she would not have ventured to remonstrate with her\nhusband that Sunday afternoon.\n\n\u201cMy dear,\u201d she began timidly, \u201cisn\u2019t there any other\u2014couldn\u2019t Mr.\nHemenway live somewhere else\u2014rather than here?\u201d\n\nHer husband turned in his chair, and a frown that Mrs. Barrington always\ndreaded appeared between his eyebrows.\n\n\u201cNow, Bess, why can\u2019t you leave things all comfortable as they are? I\nlike to have you and Ethel here first rate, but I don\u2019t see why you think\nyou must upset things when you stay only five minutes, so to speak.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t mean to upset things, John, but\u2014I don\u2019t like him!\u201d she\nfinished in sudden asperity.\n\n\u201cLike him! My dear, who expected you to? Nobody supposes he is one\nof your palavering, tea-drinking members of the upper ten! He isn\u2019t\npolished, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cPolished! He\u2019s polished enough, in a way, but\u2014I don\u2019t like the metal to\nbegin with,\u201d laughed Mrs. Barrington, timidly essaying a joke.\n\nHer husband\u2019s frown deepened.\n\n\u201cBut, Bess, don\u2019t you see? I must have him here\u2014it\u2019s easier for me, lots\neasier. Why can\u2019t you let things be as they are, and not bother?\u201d he\nurged in the tone of a fretful boy.\n\nMrs. Barrington knew the tone, and she knew, too, the meaning of the\nnervous twitching of her husband\u2019s fingers.\n\n\u201cWell, well, John,\u201d she said, hastily rising, \u201cI won\u2019t say anything\nmore,\u201d and the door closed softly behind her.\n\nAs she passed through the hall she caught a glimpse of Ethel and her\nfriend starting for a walk, and the strange unlikeness of the two girls\nstruck her anew. Just why Ethel should have chosen Dorothy Fenno for a\nweek\u2019s visit to The Maples, Mrs. Barrington could not understand. Perhaps\nit would have puzzled Ethel herself to have given a satisfactory reason.\n\nEthel Barrington had met Dorothy Fenno the winter before on a committee\nconnected with a fashionable charity, and had contrived to keep in touch\nwith the girl ever since, though the paths of their daily lives lay wide\napart.\n\n\u201cShe is mixed up with \u2018settlement work\u2019 and \u2018relief bands,\u2019 and\neverything of that sort,\u201d Ethel had told her mother; \u201cbut she\u2019s\nwonderfully interesting and\u2014I like her!\u201d she had finished almost\ndefiantly.\n\nThe girls leisurely followed a winding path that skirted the lake and\nlost itself in the woods beyond. They had walked half an hour when they\ncame to the clearing that commanded the finest view in the vicinity.\n\nEthel dropped wearily to the ground and, with her chin resting in her\nhand, watched her friend curiously.\n\n\u201cWell, my dear girl, you\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t\u2014don\u2019t speak to me!\u201d interrupted Dorothy.\n\nEthel Barrington bit her lips; then she laughed softly and continued\nto watch the absorbed face of her companion\u2014this time in the desired\nsilence. By and bye Dorothy drew a long breath and turned to her.\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it beautiful!\u201d she murmured reverently.\n\nMiss Barrington gave a short laugh and sat up.\n\n\u201cYes, very beautiful, I suppose; but, do you know, I\u2019ve seen so much I\u2019m\nspoiled\u2014absolutely spoiled for a scene like that? I\u2019d rather look at\nyou\u2014you are wonderfully refreshing. I don\u2019t know another girl that would\nhave snapped me up as you did a minute ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, I beg your pardon,\u201d began Dorothy in distress.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t!\u201d interrupted her friend, with a petulant gesture; \u201cyou\u2019ll be like\nall the rest if you do.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it was very rude,\u201d insisted Dorothy earnestly. \u201cA view like this\nalways seems to me like a glorious piece of music, and I want everything\nquiet as I would if I were hearing a Beethoven symphony, you know. That\nis why I couldn\u2019t bear even the tones of your voice\u2014but it was rude of\nme, very.\u201d\n\nEthel sighed, and fell to picking a daisy to pieces.\n\n\u201cI used to feel that way, once,\u201d she said; \u201cI did, really.\u201d\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t a doubt of it,\u201d replied Dorothy, with a smile.\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t any more!\u201d\u2014the daisy was tossed aside.\n\n\u201cNo?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I\u2019m like a five-year-old that\u2019s had too much candy, I suppose. I\u2019ve\nseen the Alps and the Rockies, the Rhine and the St. Lawrence; and yet,\nthe first time I looked at that view I felt just as you did. But now\u2014\u2014!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need something outside yourself to give zest to your life, my dear,\u201d\nsaid Dorothy, her eyes on the town below.\n\nEthel looked at her narrowly.\n\n\u201cNow see here, my dear, I love you\u2014and you know it, but I just can\u2019t\nstand any of that settlement talk!\u201d\n\n\u201cI never said settlement,\u201d laughed Dorothy, her eyes still on the\nstraggling cottages.\n\n\u201cI know, but\u2014well, I just simply can\u2019t! How in the world you stand those\ndismal sounds and sights and\u2014and smells,\u201d she added, with a grimace, \u201cI\ndon\u2019t understand.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose the miners live in those cottages,\u201d mused Dorothy aloud, as\nthough she had not heard.\n\n\u201cI suppose so,\u201d acquiesced Ethel indifferently. \u201cOthers live over the\nhill in Westmont.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey don\u2019t look as though they\u2019d be very comfortable,\u201d continued Dorothy\nsoftly.\n\n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t know; people like that don\u2019t mind such things, I fancy.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you ever ask them?\u201d\n\nEthel looked up in quick suspicion, but Dorothy\u2019s face was placid.\n\n\u201cOf course not! How silly!\u201d\n\n\u201cSuppose you do, sometimes,\u201d suggested Dorothy, quite as a matter of\ncourse.\n\n\u201cI thought that was what you were coming to!\u201d flashed Ethel. \u201cMy dear\ngirl, you have no idea what those miners are,\u201d she continued in a\nsuperior tone. \u201cIn the first place, I don\u2019t think there is one of them\nthat understands a word of English, and I\u2019d be afraid to trust my life\nanywhere near them.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the women and the little children\u2014they wouldn\u2019t hurt you. Isn\u2019t\nthere something you could do for them, dear?\u201d urged Dorothy.\n\nA rumble of thunder brought the girls to their feet before Ethel could\nreply, and a big storm-cloud coming rapidly out of the west drove the\nwhole thing from her mind.\n\n\u201cQuick\u2014we must run!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cWe can\u2019t reach home, but there\u2019s an\nold shanty just behind those trees over there. No one lives in it, but\n\u2019twill give us a little shelter, maybe,\u201d and in another minute the girls\nwere hurrying down the hill. Big drops of rain and a sharp gust of wind\nquickened their steps to a run.\n\nHad Ethel not been running with her head bent to the wind she would\nhave noticed the changed appearance of the shanty to which they were\nhastening. But as it was, she rushed blindly forward, up the steps,\nand pushed open the door, Dorothy close by her side. Once across the\nthreshold she stopped in amazement, while Dorothy dropped breathlessly\ninto the nearest chair.\n\n\n                                   IV\n\nThe tiny room was exquisite in its orderly neatness. The furniture was of\nthe plainest, but bore an air of individuality. On one side was a case\nof books, and the mantel above the fireplace was decorated with quaint\ncurios and beautiful shells.\n\nA shadow fell across the floor.\n\n\u201cA nearer view might the better satisfy your curiosity, madam,\u201d said a\nvoice from behind Ethel.\n\nEthel turned sharply to find herself face to face with a man in the\nrough garb of a miner. The man\u2019s eyes looked straight into hers without\nflinching.\n\n\u201cI said that a nearer view might the better satisfy your curiosity in\nregard to my poor possessions,\u201d he repeated.\n\n\u201cYours?\u201d she stammered, a look of repulsion coming into her eyes.\n\nThe look and the shrinking gesture were not lost on Hustler Joe. His eyes\ndarkened. His broad shoulders bent in a mocking bow and his right hand\nmade a sweeping flourish.\n\n\u201cMine, madam; but consider them yours until the storm is over. I\u2019ll not\nintrude\u201d\u2014and he was gone.\n\nA flare of lightning and a deafening report made his exit wonderfully\ndramatic to Dorothy. The rain was falling in torrents, too\u2014a fact which\nsuddenly occurred to Ethel. For a moment she hesitated; then she sped\nthrough the door, overtook and confronted the miner.\n\n\u201cGo back instantly!\u201d she commanded. \u201cIf\u2014if you don\u2019t, I shall start for\nhome in all this rain!\u201d\n\nThe words were scarcely spoken before the man had turned and was hurrying\nher back to the house. Once inside there was an uncomfortable silence.\nDorothy came to the rescue.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid you thought we were unpardonably rude,\u201d she began pleasantly.\n\u201cYou see we were caught by the shower and my friend thought no one was\nliving here; otherwise, we would not have so unceremoniously taken\npossession.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, of course not,\u201d murmured Miss Barrington constrainedly, going over\nto the window and looking out at the swaying trees.\n\nHustler Joe made a dissenting gesture.\n\n\u201cSay no more: you are quite welcome,\u201d he replied, going over to the\nfireplace and touching a match to the light wood ready placed for a fire.\n\u201cIt will take the dampness out of the air, and\u2014of your garments,\u201d he\nadded, with a furtive glance at the tall figure in the window.\n\n\u201cThank you, you are very kind,\u201d said Dorothy, drawing nearer. The\nmovement brought her close to the mantel, and she picked up one of the\nshells. \u201cDid you gather these yourself?\u201d she asked, wondering at the\nlight that leaped into his eyes at the question.\n\nEthel, turning round a minute later, found them talking like old friends\ntogether. She even caught herself listening breathlessly to a story he\nwas telling of an Indian arrow he held in his hand. A sudden glance in\nher direction from the man\u2019s dark eyes sent her back to her old position\nwith an abruptness that surprised as well as displeased her.\n\nThe storm was not a long one. The clouds were already lifting in the west\nand the rain was less flood-like in its descent. Finally the sun peeped\nout and flashed for a moment in Ethel\u2019s eyes.\n\nDorothy and their host were over at the bookcase deep in a discussion of\nthe respective merits of Scott and Dickens, when Ethel crossed the room\nand came toward them.\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d she said, with the slightest of inclinations in Hustler Joe\u2019s\ndirection, \u201cthat the storm is over. We can go now.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it is,\u201d said Dorothy; then turning to the man at her side she held\nout a cordial hand. \u201cThank you very much. You have been very kind.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, very kind\u2014thank you,\u201d murmured Ethel, bowing slightly and turning\ntoward the door. \u201cWe shall have to go home by the road,\u201d she announced\nregretfully a moment later, as she stood outside looking longingly at\nthe hillside path where the wet grass sparkled in the sun.\n\nFor a time the two girls walked on in silence, then Dorothy murmured\nsoftly:\n\n\u201cNot a word of English\u2014not a word!\u201d\n\nEthel gave a sidelong look from her lowered lids.\n\n\u201cWell, I didn\u2019t suppose they could!\u201d she said petulantly.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t trust my life near one of them,\u201d continued Dorothy in the\nsame low voice.\n\nEthel shrugged her shoulders and a faint pink showed on her forehead.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t!\u201d she protested. \u201cHow could you talk with him so?\u2014what dreadful\nboots he wore!\u201d\n\nDorothy laughed outright.\n\n\u201cMy dear, his boots do not cover his head. Would you have a man dig coal\nin patent-leathers?\u201d\n\nEthel made a wry face and was silent.\n\n\u201cSeriously, dear,\u201d Dorothy went on, \u201che was very interesting to me.\nHis knowledge of books was most amazing. What he is doing here I can\u2019t\nimagine\u2014he\u2019s no common miner!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, of course not,\u201d laughed Ethel mockingly. \u201cNo doubt he\u2019s a college\npresident in disguise! But really, I\u2019m not in the least interested. Let\u2019s\ntalk of something else.\u201d And she changed the subject.\n\nAnd yet it was Ethel who, at dinner that night, turned to Mr. Barrington\nwith the abrupt question:\n\n\u201cFather, who is living in the old shanty just beyond the Deerfield woods?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure I haven\u2019t the least idea, my daughter,\u201d replied the man, mildly\nindifferent.\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can assist Miss Barrington in the matter,\u201d interposed the\nsmooth voice of Mark Hemenway. \u201cIt has lately been taken in hand by a\ncurious creature known as \u2018Hustler Joe.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Hustler Joe\u2019?\u201d murmured John Barrington.\n\n\u201cYes, sir, one of the men. A queer, silent sort\u2014the kind that no good\ncomes of. I\u2019m keeping my eye on him, however.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d observed Ethel calmly, \u201cI thought him quite the gentleman.\u201d\n\nThe effect of her words was like that of an electric shock around the\ntable; in fact, Ethel herself felt it to some extent, for her remark was\nalmost as much of a surprise to herself as to the others.\n\n\u201cWhy, my daughter!\u201d murmured Mrs. Barrington faintly, and even Dorothy\nstarted. There was an ugly narrowing of Mark Hemenway\u2019s eyes, but it was\nJohn Barrington who spoke.\n\n\u201cWell, you seem to have the advantage,\u201d he drawled. \u201cWould you mind\ntelling where the rest of us could meet\u2014this gentleman?\u201d\n\nHis daughter laughed and lapsed into her old bantering tone.\n\n\n                                    V\n\nThat portion of the Candria mine known as the \u201cBonanza\u201d had been on the\nblack-list of the miners for some time. It was more than two months since\nHenry Rotalick, a fire boss, had reported that an extra amount of gas\nseemed to be collecting in the district. The mine officials had begun at\nonce to take the utmost precautions.\n\nThe Bonanza was one of the wealthiest portions of the mine, but, the coal\nbeing deep and of very fine quality and the slate being particularly\nthick, it necessitated considerable blasting to get down to the finest\nparts. Owing to this and to the growing accumulations of gases, the\nminers had for some time past been repeatedly warned to use the greatest\ncare.\n\nOn the day after the thunderstorm, Hustler Joe was passing through this\ndistrict when he came upon some miners drilling holes twelve feet or more\nin depth and preparing for an exceptionally heavy charge.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019d better look out or you\u2019ll bring the whole thing tumbling about\nyour ears!\u201d he said, with a sharp glance at one of the men who seemed\nmuch the worse for liquor.\n\nA snarl of oaths in various tongues followed him as he turned his back\nand walked away.\n\nThirty minutes later every door in the Bonanza fell with a crash, and\nsolid walls of masonry three feet through were torn down as though they\nwere but barriers of paper, so terrible was the explosion that shook the\nearth.\n\nHustler Joe was half a mile away. The shock threw him on his face, and\nfor a minute he was too dazed to think. Then he staggered to his feet\nand rushed blindly forward straight toward the place where he thought\nthe explosion had occurred. At every turn he met fleeing men, coatless,\nhatless and crazed with terror. Suddenly he came face to face with Bill\nSomers.\n\n\u201cGood God, man! Where ye goin\u2019? Are ye gone clean crazy?\u201d demanded Bill,\nclutching Joe\u2019s arm and trying to turn him about.\n\nFor answer Hustler Joe wrenched himself free, picked up a\nhalf-unconscious miner and set him on his feet; then he dashed forward\nand attempted to raise a fallen door that had pinned another miner fast.\n\n\u201cJiminy Christmas! Ye ain\u2019t goin\u2019 ter stay in this hell of a place alone,\nanyhow,\u201d muttered Bill, bringing his broad shoulder and huge strength to\nbear on the door. In another moment the imprisoned man was free and in\nbroken English was calling on heaven to reward his rescuers.\n\nThe two men did not falter for an instant, though all the while the\ndeadly damp was closing around them. From gallery to gallery they went,\nwarning, helping, dragging a comrade into a possible place of safety,\nuntil human endurance could stand it no longer. Exhausted, they staggered\ninto a chamber which the fire damp had not entered.\n\n\u201cWe\u2014we\u2019d better git out\u2014if we\u2019re goin\u2019 to,\u201d panted Somers weakly.\n\nJoe was dizzy and faint. For himself he did not care. He had long ago\ngiven up all thought of escape; but a sudden vision came to him of the\nlittle blue-eyed woman that he had so often seen clinging to this man\u2019s\narm and looking fondly into his face.\n\n\u201cYour wife and babies, Somers\u2014\u201d murmured Joe, his hand to his head as he\ntried to think. \u201cYes, we must get out somehow. There\u2019s the fanhouse\u2014we\nmight try that,\u201d he added, groping blindly forward.\n\nThe fanhouse, now out of use, stood at the top of the airshaft heading\nthat led up through the Deerfield hill from the mine. And by this way\nthe two men finally reached the open air, and there, blinking in the\nsunshine, they sank exhausted on the hillside.\n\nIt was some time before Somers found strength to move, but his companion\nwas up and away very soon.\n\nThe Candria mine had two openings about four miles apart, that went by\nthe names Silver Creek and Beachmont. The Bonanza section was a mile and\na half from the surface, and was nearer to the Silver Creek opening than\nto the Beachmont. It was to the former entrance, therefore, that Hustler\nJoe turned his steps as soon as he could stand upon his feet.\n\nThe news of the disaster was before him. Men running from the mine,\nbarely escaping with their lives, had told fearful tales of crawling\nover the dead bodies of their companions in their flight. The story flew\nfrom lip to lip and quickly spread through the entire town. Mothers,\nwives, daughters, sons and sweethearts rushed to the mine entrances and\nfrantically sought for news of their dear ones.\n\nWhen Hustler Joe reached the Silver Creek entrance, a bit of a woman with\na tiny babe in her arms darted from the sobbing multitude and clutched\nhis arm.\n\n\u201cBill\u2014my Bill\u2014did you see him?\u201d she cried.\n\nHustler Joe\u2019s voice shook as it had not done that day.\n\n\u201cOn Deerfield hill, by the fanhouse\u2014he\u2019s all right, Mrs. Somers,\u201d he said\nhuskily; and the little woman sped with joyful feet back by the way she\nhad come.\n\nIt was Hustler Joe who was at the head of the first rescue party that\nattempted to enter the mine; but the deadly gases increased with every\nstep. First one, then another of the heroic men succumbed, until the\nrest were obliged to stagger back to the outer air, half carrying, half\ndragging their unconscious companions.\n\nAgain and again was this repeated, until they were forced to abandon all\nhope of reaching the entombed miners from that direction; then hasty\npreparations were made to attempt the rescue from the Beachmont opening.\nHere, as at Silver Creek, Hustler Joe was untiring\u2014directing, helping,\nencouraging. The man seemed to work in almost a frenzy, yet every\nmovement counted and his hand and head were steady.\n\nSlowly, so slowly they worked their way into the mine, fighting the damp\nat every turn. By using canvas screens to wall the side entrances and\nrooms, a direct current of pure air was forced ahead of the rescuers, and\nby night their first load of maimed and blackened forms was sent back to\nthe mine entrance to be cared for by tender hands.\n\nAll night Hustler Joe worked, and it was his strong arms that oftenest\nbore some suffering miner to air and safety. Once, far down a gallery, he\nheard a shrill laugh. A sound so strange brought the first tingle like\nfear to his heart. Another moment and a blackened form rushed upon him\nout of the darkness, angrily brandishing a pickaxe. Crazed with wandering\nfor hours in that horrid charnel-house of the earth\u2019s interior, the miner\nwas ready to kill even his rescuers. He was quickly overpowered and his\nhands and feet were securely bound; then on Hustler Joe\u2019s back he made\nthe journey of a quarter of a mile to the cars that were waiting to bear\nhim, and others like him, to the aid so sadly needed.\n\nToward morning Hustler Joe was accosted by one of the doctors who had\nbeen working at his side half the night.\n\n\u201cSee here, my man, you\u2019ve done enough. No human being can stand this\nsort of thing forever. I don\u2019t like the look of your eye\u2014go outside and\nget some rest. There are fifty men now that owe their lives to you alone.\nCome\u2014you\u2019d really better quit, for awhile, at least.\u201d\n\n\u201cFifty? Fifty, did you say?\u201d cried the miner eagerly. Then a look came\ninto his face that haunted the doctor for long days after. \u201cWould fifty\ncount against\u2014one?\u201d he muttered as if to himself, then fell to work with\na feverishness that laughed at the doctor\u2019s warning.\n\nFrom dusk to dawn, and again from dawn to dusk, flying ambulances,\nhastily improvised from every sort of vehicle, coursed the streets with\ntheir gruesome burdens. Weeping throngs surged about the Beachmont\nentrance and about the stricken homes of the dead. Sleepless wives and\nmothers waited all night for news of their missing dear ones, and peeped\nfearfully through closed blinds as the dead and injured were borne\nthrough the streets.\n\nBut everywhere the name of Hustler Joe was breathed in gratitude and\nlove. Tales of his bravery and of his rescues were on every lip, and when\nthe man walked out of the mine that day, he walked straight into the\nhearts of every man, woman and child of the place.\n\nHis fellow-workmen tried to show their love and appreciation by going in\na body to his lonely cabin on the hillside. They found him muttering half\ncrazily to himself: \u201cFifty lives for one\u2014fifty for one!\u201d And on the table\nbefore him he had placed fifty matches in a row and below them one other\nalone.\n\nThey looked at him half fearfully, wholly pitifully, thinking the past\nhorror had turned his brain. But he listened with brilliant eyes and\nflushed cheeks to their hearty words of thanks and seemed strangely eager\nto hear all that they had come to say.\n\nYet the next morning his eyes were heavy with misery, and someone said\nthat the matches lay strewn all over the floor where an impatient hand\nhad cast them\u2014all save one, left alone in the middle of the table.\n\n\n                                   VI\n\nOn the day of the explosion in the Candria mine John Barrington sat on\nthe broad piazza of The Maples reading his morning paper. Occasionally\nhe glanced up to admire the charming picture his daughter and her friend\nmade playing tennis on the lawn nearby.\n\nHis night\u2019s rest had been good and his morning\u2019s beefsteak tender;\nmoreover, a certain paragraph in the newspaper before him had warmed his\nheart and, in prospect, his pocketbook. He leaned back in his chair and\nsighed contentedly.\n\nAfter a time he spied Hemenway\u2019s tall form at the far end of the winding\nwalk leading to the house. There was a languid curiosity in his mind as\nto why Hemenway was walking so fast; but when he caught his first glimpse\nof his general superintendent\u2019s face, his head came upright with a jerk,\nand he waited in some apprehension for the man to speak.\n\nThe girls on the lawn heard an exclamation of dismay from the piazza,\nthen saw the two men pass rapidly down the walk and disappear in\nthe direction of the town. Fifteen minutes later Jennie Somers, the\nparlor-maid, crossed the lawn and approached Miss Barrington. All her\npretty rose color had fled, and her eyes were wide and frightened.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon\u2014but would you please let me go to town? There has been\nan explosion in the mine, and my brother\u2014he may be hurt! May I please go?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn explosion? How terrible! Yes, yes, child\u2014run right along. Don\u2019t hurry\nback if you\u2019re needed there,\u201d said Miss Barrington. \u201cI hope you\u2019ll find\nyour brother uninjured,\u201d she added as the girl hurried away. When she\nturned to speak to Dorothy she found herself alone.\n\nMiss Fenno appeared a few minutes later dressed in a short walking-suit.\n\n\u201cWhy, Dorothy!\u201d\n\n\u201cHas Jennie gone? If you don\u2019t mind, dear, I\u2019ll go with her. I might be\nable to do something,\u201d explained Dorothy hastily.\n\n\u201cMercy!\u201d shuddered Ethel, \u201chow can you go, dear? They\u2019ll be all maimed\nand bleeding! There\u2019ll be doctors and\u2014and others to do everything\nneedful. I wouldn\u2019t go\u2014really, dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know\u2014but there\u2019ll be something else to do. I might help\nsomeone\u2014Jennie, for instance, if she found her brother injured. I really\nwant to go\u2014Oh\u2014there she is!\u201d And Miss Fenno hurried after Jennie\u2019s\nswiftly moving figure.\n\nEthel was restless when her friend had gone. She wandered aimlessly\naround the grounds, then went indoors and began to play a waltz on the\npiano. The piece was scarcely half through, however, before her fingers\nmoved more and more slowly, finally straying into a minor wail that ended\nabruptly in a discordant crash as the player rose from the piano-stool.\n\nMiss Barrington\u2019s next move was to take the field-glass from the library\nand go upstairs to the tower. From there she could see the village and\ncatch occasional glimpses of hurrying forms. She could see the Silver\nCreek entrance to the mine, too, and she shuddered at the crowds her\nglasses showed her there. Twice she turned her eyes away and started\ndown the winding stairs, but each time she returned to her old position\nand gazed in a fascination quite unaccountable to herself at the moving\nfigures in the distance.\n\nBy and bye she saw the head-gardener coming rapidly up the road from the\ntown. As he entered the driveway she hurried down the stairs and out into\nthe kitchen.\n\n\u201cWere there many injured, Peter?\u201d she asked anxiously as the man came\ninto the room.\n\n\u201cThey don\u2019t know yet, ma\u2019am; they can\u2019t get into the mine. They\u2019re goin\u2019\nto try the Beachmont openin\u2019 now.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps they won\u2019t find things so bad as they think,\u201d she suggested.\n\n\u201cMebbe not; but them that has come out, ma\u2019am, tell sorry tales of\ncreepin\u2019 over dead men\u2019s bodies\u2014there ain\u2019t much hope for the poor\nfellers inside now, I\u2019m \u2019fraid.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs\u2014is there anything one can do?\u201d\n\nPeter shook his head.\n\n\u201cNot much, ma\u2019am. They can\u2019t get in to get \u2019em out. The young lady from\nthe house here has got her hands full with the women and children. They\nare takin\u2019 on awful, of course, but she kinder calms \u2019em down\u2014she and\nthat feller they call Hustler Joe.\u201d\n\nMiss Barrington turned away. As she opened the door she stopped abruptly\nand looked back into the kitchen.\n\n\u201cIf they need anything, Peter\u2014anything at all\u2014come to me at once,\u201d she\nsaid hurriedly, and closed the door behind her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was at dinner the next night that Mr. Barrington said to his general\nsuperintendent:\n\n\u201cWhat was the matter with Rotalick today? I heard you laying down the law\npretty sharp to him this noon.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he wanted a prima donna, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\n\u201cA what?\u201d\n\nHemenway laughed.\n\n\u201cYes, I thought so, too. It was simply this. There isn\u2019t anyone to sing\nat the funerals Thursday. The choir that usually sings at funerals\nhereabouts is incapacitated through injuries to the bass and loss of\na husband to the soprano. Rotalick wanted a day off to go hunting for\nsingers over in Westmont.\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d commented Mr. Barrington.\n\n\u201cI rather think our departed friends will excuse the lack of music,\u201d\nlaughed the general superintendent coarsely; but the laugh ceased at a\nflash from Miss Barrington\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cWill you be so kind, Mr. Hemenway, as to tell the man that I will sing\nThursday?\u201d Once more the electric shock ran around that table, and once\nmore Mrs. Barrington murmured faintly, \u201cWhy, my daughter!\u201d\n\nThis time Mark Hemenway rose promptly to the occasion.\n\n\u201cHow very kind!\u201d he said suavely. \u201cIndeed, Miss Barrington, one could\nalmost _afford_ to die for so great an honor. I will tell Rotalick. The\nminers will be overjoyed\u2014they have bitterly bemoaned the probable lack of\nmusic tomorrow. Funny they should care so much!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t know\u2014they are human beings, I suppose,\u201d Miss Barrington\nsuggested.\n\n\u201cYes\u2014of course\u2014certainly\u2014but then\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYou seem troubled to find a solution,\u201d she remarked, with slightly\nuplifted eyebrows; \u201csuppose you give it up?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuppose I do,\u201d he acquiesced with ready grace, glad of the way of escape\nshe had opened.\n\n\n                                   VII\n\nMany of the victims of the explosion had lived in Westmont, but for\nthose whose homes had been in Skinner Valley a succession of funeral\nservices had been arranged to take place in the Slovak Catholic Church,\nthe largest audience-room in the town. It was here that Miss Barrington\nhad offered to sing, and as one sad service followed another in rapid\nsuccession the task she had undertaken was no light one.\n\nBut her heart did not lose its courage nor her voice its sweetness all\nthrough those long hours. She did grow sick and faint, though, as the\nthrongs of weeping women and children filed in and out of the church, and\nher voice trembled and nearly broke when a young girl fainted and sank to\nthe floor.\n\nHustler Joe had not been known to step inside a church since he came to\nSkinner Valley. On the day of the funerals he had lapsed into his old\nunapproachableness. He left his cabin early in the morning and joined the\ncrowds moving toward the church, but, once there, he lost himself in the\nthrongs outside instead of entering the doors.\n\nHustler Joe had long since made up his mind that a church was no place\nfor him. He had the reverence, born of a New England boyhood\u2019s training,\nfor all things sacred, and he had come to feel that his own presence was\nan unpardonable insult to any holy place.\n\nThe windows of the church were open and the chanting tones of the priest\nfloated out to his ears. He imagined himself as one of those still,\nsilent forms before the chancel, and he bitterly envied the dead.\n\n\u201c\u2019Twould have been the easiest way out of it!\u201d he muttered under his\nbreath. \u201cBy Jove, what a voice!\u201d he added aloud a moment later as the\npriest\u2019s droning gave way to the flute-like tones of a singer.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s old Barrington\u2019s daughter\u2014ain\u2019t she great?\u201d said Bill Somers at his\nelbow. The man had been there several minutes furtively watching for a\nchance to speak.\n\nHustler Joe did not answer until the last note quivered into silence.\nThen he drew a long breath and turned around.\n\n\u201cBarrington\u2019s daughter? What is she doing here?\u201d\n\n\u201cSingin\u2019\u2014didn\u2019t ye hear her?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why? How happens it?\u201d Joe demanded.\n\n\u201cRotalick said she heard how that the choir couldn\u2019t sing and that the\nSlavs and Poles were makin\u2019 a terrible touse \u2019cause there wa\u2019n\u2019t no\nmusic. So she jest stepped up as pleasant as ye please an\u2019 said she\u2019d\nsing for \u2019em. She\u2019s a daisy, an\u2019 as purty as a picture. Have ye seen her?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Hustler Joe shortly, moving away.\n\nEthel Barrington\u2019s singing won her many sincere, if humble, admirers that\nday, but perhaps no one inside the building listened quite so hungrily\nfor every tone that fell from her lips as did a tall, sad-eyed man who\nstood outside\u2014just beneath an open window.\n\nWhen the last sombre procession had moved away from the doors, and\nMiss Barrington herself, white and faint with weariness, stepped into\nher carriage, Hustler Joe left his position under the window and walked\nslowly toward his home.\n\n\u201cYes, I\u2019ll go back,\u201d he muttered. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing but hell upon earth to\nbe gained by running away in this cowardly fashion. I\u2019ll give myself up\nand take the consequences\u2014which will be hell somewhere else, I suppose,\u201d\nhe added grimly. \u201cGood God\u2014it can\u2019t be worse than this!\u201d\n\nHe pushed open his cabin door and looked about him with troubled eyes.\nFor the first time he was conscious of a fondness for the place.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll give them to Jim,\u201d he said aloud, his eyes lingering on the books\nand on the shells and curios over the mantel.\n\nWith feverish haste he began collecting a few necessaries into a\ntraveling-bag. It was packed and strapped when there came a knock at the\ndoor. At so unusual an occurrence Hustler Joe started guiltily. Then he\ncrossed the room and threw wide the door.\n\nThe bent form of an old woman with two frightened eyes peering out from\nbeneath a worn shawl confronted him.\n\n\u201cHas he been here?\u201d she whispered, stepping into the room and glancing\nfurtively around her.\n\n\u201cHe! Who?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he hasn\u2019t, or you\u2019d know it,\u201d she answered in a relieved tone; but\nher expression changed almost instantly, and her frail form shook with\nterror. \u201cBut he may come! You wouldn\u2019t give him up\u2014you\u2019re Hustler Joe,\nain\u2019t ye? They say you\u2019re good an\u2019 kind. Oh, you wouldn\u2019t give him up!\u201d\n\nA strange look came into the miner\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cNo, I wouldn\u2019t give him up,\u201d he said, after a moment. \u201cBut who is he?\nAnd who are you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m his mother, sir. He didn\u2019t know anyone was livin\u2019 here,\u201d she\napologized, \u201can\u2019 he sent me a bit of paper sayin\u2019 he\u2019d meet me here\ntonight. Oh, sir, they\u2019d hang him if they got him! Hang him!\u201d she\nshuddered.\n\nHustler Joe\u2019s lips twitched, then settled into stern lines.\n\n\u201cYe see,\u201d continued the woman, her voice husky with feeling, \u201chis daddy\nwas\u2014was one of them that was killed, an\u2019 my boy came back to look once\nmore on his poor dead face today. He said he\u2019d colored his hair an\u2019\nchanged his looks so no one would know him; but oh, they\u2019d hang him\u2014hang\nmy boy!\u201d she finished in a frenzy, wringing her hands and swaying her\nbody from side to side.\n\nThrough the window Hustler Joe saw the figure of a man moving among the\nshadows of the trees near the house. The miner stepped close to the old\nwoman and laid a light hand on her shoulder.\n\n\u201cListen! I am going away for an hour. When I am out of sight, go out to\nthe trees behind the house and call your boy in. I shall be gone and\nshall know nothing of it\u2014you can trust me. Do you understand?\u201d\n\nA heartfelt \u201cGod bless you!\u201d rang in his ears as he left the house and\nhurried away.\n\nWhen he returned an hour later he found these words scrawled on a bit of\nbrown wrapping-paper:\n\n        You treated me white. Thanks. You don\u2019t know what\n      you saved my mother. It would have broke her heart\n      if they had strung me up. Thanks.\n\nHustler Joe stared fixedly at the note long after he had read it; then he\ntore the paper into tiny bits and dropped them into the fireplace. Very\nslowly he opened the traveling-bag and unpacked one by one the articles\ntherein. When the bag was empty and the room restored to its spotless\norder, he drew a long breath.\n\n\u201cYes, \u2019twould break her heart; she\u2019s less miserable if I stay where I\nam,\u201d he murmured. \u201cPoor dear mother, she\u2019s suffered enough through me\nalready!\u201d\n\n\n                                  VIII\n\nThe days that followed were busy ones for Ethel. Company made The Maples\ngay with fun and laughter; but Ethel did not drop her newly awakened\ninterest in the miners. By her earnest persuasion Miss Fenno had agreed\nto lengthen her visit, the need of these same miners having been held up\nby the wary Ethel as good and sufficient reason for her remaining.\n\nA maid, laden with the best the house afforded, always accompanied\nDorothy on her frequent visits to the town, and sometimes Ethel\nherself went. It was after her first trip of this sort that she burst\nunceremoniously into the library.\n\n\u201cFather, do you do anything for them?\u201d she demanded breathlessly.\n\n\u201cMy dear, not being aware of the antecedent of that pronoun, I may not be\nable to give a very satisfactory answer to your question.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat? Oh\u2014sure enough!\u201d laughed Ethel. \u201cI mean the miners, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince when\u2014this philanthropic spirit, my dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you, father?\u201d persisted Ethel, ignoring the question.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d Mr. Barrington began, putting the tips of his forefingers\ntogether impressively, \u201cwe think we do considerable. We are not\noverbearing; we force no \u2018company store\u2019 on them, but allow that curious\nlittle Pedler Jim full sway. We\u2014However, have you anything to suggest?\u201d\nhe suddenly demanded in mild sarcasm.\n\nSomewhat to his surprise Miss Barrington did have something to suggest,\nand that something was not particularly to his mind. However, when Miss\nBarrington set out to have her own way she usually had it, even with her\ncomfort-loving father\u2014perhaps it was because he was a comfort-loving\nfather that he always succumbed in the end.\n\nAt all events, the Candria Mining Company, after the explosion in the\nBonanza section, organized a system of relief to which they ever after\nadhered. The family of each miner killed in the disaster, or dying from\nits effects, received one thousand dollars cash over and above all\nmedical and burial expenses. The maimed were dealt with according to the\nextent of their injuries.\n\nThe mine was a great source of interest to all of Miss Barrington\u2019s\nfriends, and it was accounted a great day among them when a party under\ncareful escort were allowed to \u201cdo the mines,\u201d as they enthusiastically\ntermed a glimpse of the mine buildings and a short trip through a few\nunderground passages.\n\nTwo weeks after the explosion Ethel, with a merry party of ladies and\ngentlemen led by Mark Hemenway, and duly chaperoned, started for the\nBeachmont entrance to the mine. The general superintendent was in his\nelement. He explained and exhibited all through the outer buildings, and\nwas about to take his charges into the mine itself when an unavoidable\nsomething intervened and claimed his immediate attention. It was with\nevident reluctance that he therefore handed his party over to Bill\nSomers, who, having proved himself careful and attentive, had often\nbefore been intrusted with the escort of sightseers over the mines.\n\nTo Ethel the change was a relief. A vague unrest had lately assailed her\nwhenever in Hemenway\u2019s presence and she had almost unconsciously begun\nto avoid him. Her old indifference to his existence had given way to a\ngrowing realization that there was such a being, and the realization was\nbringing with it an intangible something not quite pleasant.\n\nThe feminine portion of the party followed Bill Somers through the\nstrange underground chambers with daintily lifted skirts and with many a\nshudder and half-smothered shriek. And though they laughed and chatted at\ntimes, they cast sidelong glances of mingled curiosity and aversion at\nthe stalwart forms of the begrimed miners.\n\n\u201cIs\u2014is this anywhere near the\u2014accident?\u201d asked Miss Barrington, looking\nbehind her fearfully.\n\n\u201cNo, ma\u2019am\u2014oh, no!\u201d reassured Bill Somers quickly. \u201cThe Bonanza is a long\nways off. We don\u2019t go nowheres near there today, ma\u2019am.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, was there an accident?\u201d chimed in a pretty girl with rose-pink\ncheeks.\n\n\u201cSure; this was the mine, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d interposed a fussy little man with\neyeglasses through which he was peering right and left with his small,\nnear-sighted eyes.\n\n\u201cTell us about it, please,\u201d begged three or four voices at once; and Bill\nneeded no second bidding.\n\nWhen they passed Hustler Joe, Somers pointed him out, and as they walked\non into the next gallery he told with unconscious power the story of the\nheroic rescue of the imprisoned men. The shifting shadows and twinkling\nlights made the telling more impressive, and the dusky forms flitting\nin and out of the mysterious openings on either side, added a realistic\ntouch to the tale that sobered the gay crowd not a little. Their interest\nin the earth\u2019s interior waned perceptibly.\n\n\u201cAre\u2014are we on the way out, now?\u201d asked the pretty girl, her cheeks\nshowing white in the gloom.\n\n\u201cNo, ma\u2019am; we\u2019re goin\u2019 in deeper. Wa\u2019n\u2019t that what ye wanted?\u201d returned\nBill.\n\n\u201cYes, of course,\u201d murmured the girl, without enthusiasm.\n\nThe man with glasses coughed.\n\n\u201cReally, Miss Barrington, this is beastly air. It might be well enough to\ngo back before long.\u201d\n\nBill Somers took the hint. He knew the type to which the fussy little\nman belonged. The party turned about, and the pretty girl\u2019s eyes flashed\nwith a grateful glance\u2014a glance which the near-sighted-glassed saw and\npromptly appropriated.\n\nAs they repassed Hustler Joe, Ethel Barrington dropped behind the others\nand came close to the miner\u2019s side.\n\n\u201cI want to thank you myself,\u201d she said, the crimson staining her cheeks\nas she impulsively held out a slim, ungloved hand. \u201cI want to tell you\nhow much I appreciate your courage and bravery at the explosion.\u201d\n\nThe man flushed painfully. As he reluctantly touched her finger-tips, she\nadded:\n\n\u201cYou must be so happy to have saved so many lives. I knew you were a\ngood man the minute I saw your face!\u201d\n\nHustler Joe grew white to the lips, dropped her hand rudely and turned\naway without a word.\n\nHemenway met the party at the entrance of the mine. He was profuse in\napologies for his enforced absence and in offerings of further service,\nbut Miss Barrington dismissed him with a cool \u201cThank you; nothing more,\u201d\nand led the way to The Maples.\n\nMiss Barrington was vexed\u2014worse than that, she was vexed because she was\nvexed. Her pulse quickened and her nostrils dilated as she thought of\nHustler Joe and of the way he had met her impulsive greeting.\n\n\u201cThe\u2014the rude\u2014boor!\u201d she said to herself, at loss for words to express\nfittingly that to which she was so little accustomed. A lingering touch\nor a gentle pressure was the usual fare of Miss Barrington\u2019s graciously\nextended hand\u2014never this wordless touching of her finger-tips and hasty,\nrude release. \u201cNot that I care,\u201d she thought, with a disdainful tilt\nof her head. \u201cBut he might have been decently civil!\u201d she added, with\na scornful smile as she thought of how differently a score of pampered\nyouths of her acquaintance would have received so signal a mark of favor\nas she had that afternoon bestowed on an all too unappreciative miner.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Hustler Joe had left Miss Barrington so abruptly he had attacked his\nwork with a fierceness that even the miners had never seen him show. \u201cA\ngood man\u2014a good man\u2014\u2018I knew you were a good man\u2019!\u201d he muttered between\nhis teeth. \u201cA \u2018good\u2019 man indeed\u2014bah!\u201d he snarled aloud, wielding his\npick with long, sweeping strokes. Then he suddenly stood upright. \u201cGreat\nGod\u2014am I not a good man? Have fifty lives not a feather\u2019s weight?\u201d\n\nThe pick dropped from his relaxed fingers, and his hands went up to his\nhead.\n\n\u201cAh, no,\u201d he moaned; \u201cfather\u2014father\u2014fifty, a hundred\u2014a thousand times a\nhundred could not tip the scale with your dear, dead self on the other\nside!\u201d\n\n\n                                   IX\n\nExciting days came to Skinner Valley. Gold was discovered far up the\ncreek. A man furnished with funds by Mark Hemenway, who long had\nexpressed faith in the locality, had \u201cstruck it rich,\u201d and the general\nsuperintendent awoke one day to find himself wealthy.\n\nThe effect of this awakening was as immediate as it was startling. His\ncommanding tones took on an added imperiousness, his clothing a new\nflashiness, and his whole demeanor an importance likely to impress the\nmost casual of beholders. His veiled attentions to Miss Barrington gave\nway to a devoted homage that was apparent to all men, and so thick was\nhis armor of self-conceit that her daily snubs fell pointless at his feet.\n\nMiss Barrington had never before spent so long a time at The Maples, and\nMr. Hemenway\u2019s sudden accession to wealth resulted, as far as she was\nconcerned, in hasty preparations to leave. Her guests were already gone.\n\nOn the day before her intended departure she started off by herself to\nenjoy one more sunset from the clearing beyond the Deerfield woods,\nthe place where she and Dorothy were overtaken by that memorable\nthunder-shower.\n\nMark Hemenway did not confine himself so strictly to business these days\nas had heretofore been his custom, and he was upstairs in his room when\nhe spied Miss Barrington\u2019s lithe figure disappearing in the grove that\nskirted the grounds on the west.\n\nThe general superintendent had lately invested in a tall silk hat, and it\nwas this impressive bit of headgear that he donned as he left the house\nand followed, at a discreet distance, the form of the woman he meant to\nmarry.\n\nSince Hemenway had become rich this idea of marriage had strengthened\nwonderfully. In a certain coarse way the man was handsome, and the\nonly class of women with which he had ever come in contact had readily\nwelcomed his attentions. He had supposed the lack of money would be the\nonly drawback in the eyes of this his latest love, and now that the lack\nno longer existed he was confident of success.\n\nMiss Barrington followed the path very leisurely, picking a flower or\na fern here and there, and softly humming a tune. Upon reaching the\nclearing she settled herself comfortably under her favorite tree and\nopened her book to read. It was then that Hemenway approached from the\nshadows of the path she had just left.\n\nAt the snapping of a dry twig Miss Barrington glanced up. Her first\nimpulse was to laugh, so absurd did the checkered trousers, flaming\nwatch-charm and silk hat look to her against the background of the cool\ngreen woods. But the laugh was killed at birth by an angry objection that\nthe man should be there at all. Even then she supposed him to be merely\npassing by and that he might stop for a word or two.\n\n\u201cAh, good afternoon, Miss Barrington. What a surprise to find you here,\u201d\nfibbed Hemenway, advancing with easy confidence.\n\n\u201cGood afternoon, Mr. Hemenway.\u201d Miss Barrington moved her book\nsuggestively and lowered her eyes.\n\n\u201cCharming view you have here!\u201d said the man.\n\nNo reply.\n\n\u201cYou have an interesting book there, Miss Barrington?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2014I\u2019m trying to find out,\u201d replied Miss Barrington, with calm\nbut ineffectual rudeness.\n\n\u201cUm\u2014delightful place to read! Nice day, too.\u201d\n\nNo answer.\n\nMr. Hemenway looked down approvingly at the lowered lids of the girl\u2019s\neyes and, blinded by his vast conceit, mistook the flush of annoyance for\nthe blush of maidenly shyness. \u201cI never did like a girl to fling herself\nin my face,\u201d he mused, coming a little nearer.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he said aloud, \u201cif you have no objections, Miss Barrington, I\u2019ll\njust stop a bit with you and enjoy this breeze,\u201d and he cast himself at\nher feet in careful imitation of the attitude he had seen the fussy man\nwith glasses assume only the week before.\n\nMiss Barrington was speechless with indignation. Her first instinct was\nto spring to her feet, but the paralysis of amazement that had struck\nher dumb had also rendered her, for the moment, incapable of motion. A\nsudden determination to \u201cteach the man a lesson and stop once for all\nthis insufferable persecution\u201d\u2014as her mind expressed it\u2014followed, and she\nremained passively quiet.\n\nThere was an uncomfortable silence that to any man but Hemenway would\nhave proved embarrassing.\n\n\u201cEr\u2014I believe I haven\u2019t told you,\u201d he finally began, \u201chow kind I thought\nit was of you to interest yourself as you have in the miners.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not necessary that you should,\u201d said Ethel icily.\n\n\u201cVery becoming modesty!\u201d thought Hemenway. Aloud he said: \u201cOh, no, not\nnecessary, perhaps, but I want to do it. It is a pleasure to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not one to me.\u201d\n\nHemenway frowned. There was such a thing as carrying this modesty too far.\n\n\u201cYour singing, too\u2014it was delightful!\u201d he continued smoothly. \u201cAnd so\nkind of you to do it!\u201d\n\nMiss Barrington turned a leaf of her book with an unnecessary rustling of\nthe paper.\n\n\u201cFeigning indifference,\u201d commented Hemenway to himself. \u201cI\u2019ve seen \u2019em do\nthat before.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou looked so tired that night after the funerals. I actually worried\nabout you\u2014you looked sick,\u201d he said next, in what was meant for tender\ntones.\n\nMiss Barrington\u2019s eyes narrowed ominously as she replied:\n\n\u201cMr. Hemenway, my actions and my looks can have no possible interest for\nyou. I should be obliged if you would cease to consider them.\u201d\n\nTo Hemenway\u2019s perverted fancy this was but a bit of shy bait. He\npromptly took advantage of it.\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, I have the very greatest interest, my dear Miss\nBarrington\u2014the very warmest interest. I\u2014I\u2014Miss Barrington, as you may be\naware, I am a rich man now.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat does not concern me in the least,\u201d retorted Ethel sharply.\n\nA strange expression came over Hemenway\u2019s face. For the first time a\ndoubt shook his egotistical content. His eyes grew hard. No maidenly\nshyness prompted that speech. Still\u2014possibly she had not understood.\n\n\u201cMiss Barrington, it has long been in my mind to ask you to be my wife. I\nlove you, and now I am rich I am confident I can make you\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cStop! I won\u2019t even listen to you!\u201d Miss Barrington was on her feet, her\neyes blazing.\n\nHemenway rose and faced her. All his polish dropped like a mask, and the\nreal man looked out from beneath angrily frowning brows.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t listen, my fine lady? And why not, pray? Ain\u2019t I good enough\nto speak to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hate you\u2014I despise you\u2014oh, I loathe the very sight of you!\u201d shuddered\nEthel, losing all control of herself. \u201cNow will you leave me in peace\u2014or\nmust I say more before you quite understand me?\u201d\n\nHate\u2014despise\u2014loathe; these words Hemenway knew. The delicate shafts of\nsociety sarcasm fell powerless against his shield of self-conceit, but\nthese heavier darts struck home and reached a vital point\u2014his pride. His\nface grew livid.\n\n\u201cWill you go?\u201d repeated Ethel impatiently, not a quiver of fear in the\nscorn of her eyes\u2014\u201cor shall I?\u201d she added.\n\n\u201cNeither one!\u201d he retorted insolently.\n\nFor answer Ethel wheeled and took two steps toward the path. Hemenway was\nat her side in an instant with a clutch on her wrist that hurt her.\n\n\u201cCoward!\u201d she cried. \u201cWould you force me to scream for protection?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo so, if you like\u2014there\u2019s not a house within earshot, and the\ninhabitants of this region are not given to walking for pleasure!\u201d He\nreleased her wrist and stepped again in front of her.\n\nThe sharp throb of terror that paled Ethel\u2019s cheek was followed by one of\njoy that sent the color back in surging waves\u2014Hustler Joe\u2019s shanty just\nbehind those trees! It was after six\u2014he must be there. If worst came to\nworst\u2014\u2014!\n\n\u201cMr. Hemenway, this is altogether too theatrical. I ask you again\u2014will\nyou let me pass?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you think I am a man to be loathed and hated and despised with\nimpunity, young lady, you are much mistaken. No, I won\u2019t let you\npass\u2014you\u2019ll listen to me. I want none of your airs!\u201d he finished sourly.\n\nEthel\u2019s head bent in a scornful bow.\n\n\u201cVery well, suppose we walk on, then,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m tired of standing.\u201d\nAnd she turned about and began walking in the opposite direction from the\npath that led toward home.\n\nMark Hemenway was suspicious of this sudden acquiescence. He hurried to\nher side and looked sharply into her face.\n\n\u201cNone of your tricks, young lady! I mean business,\u201d he snarled. \u201cIf you\nain\u2019t willing to hear what I\u2019ve got to say by fair means, you shall by\nfoul!\u201d he added, bringing a small revolver into view, then slipping it\nback into his pocket.\n\nEthel was thoroughly frightened. She thought Hemenway must be mad.\n\n\u201cI should think you had stepped out of a dime novel, Mr. Hemenway,\u201d she\nbegan, trying to steady her shaking lips. \u201cNobody wins a bride at the\npoint of a pistol nowadays!\u201d The trees that hid Hustler Joe\u2019s shanty from\nview were very near now.\n\n\u201cThen you needn\u2019t treat me as if I was nothing but the dirt under your\nfeet,\u201d he muttered sullenly, already regretting his absurd threat of a\nmoment before.\n\nEthel suddenly darted forward and around the edge of the trees, ran\nacross the lawn and sprang up the steps of the shanty. Hemenway was\nclose at her heels when she flung the door open with a bang and stood\nface to face with Hustler Joe.\n\n\u201cWill you please take me home?\u201d she asked, trying to speak as though she\nconsidered it a customary thing to invade a man\u2019s house and demand his\nescort in this unceremonious fashion. \u201cMr. Hemenway is\u2014busy and cannot\ngo,\u201d she added, with a cheerful assurance due to the presence of the\nbig-bodied miner at her side.\n\nHustler Joe instantly accepted the part she had given him to play.\n\n\u201cI shall be glad to be of any service,\u201d he said respectfully, with ready\ntact, but with a sharp glance at Hemenway.\n\nThe general superintendent bowed to Miss Barrington with uplifted hat,\nthen turned and walked away.\n\n\u201cPlease do not ask me any questions,\u201d said Miss Barrington hurriedly to\nHustler Joe as they left the house. \u201cYou had better take me by the path\nthrough the woods\u2014it is the nearer way, and will be less embarrassing\nthan the main road would be for\u2014both of us. I know you think my conduct\nextraordinary, but, believe me, I had good reason for asking your escort.\nYou\u2014you always seem to be around when I need someone!\u201d she concluded,\nwith an hysterical little laugh\u2014the tension to which she had been keyed\nwas beginning to tell on her.\n\n\u201cNo apology is needed,\u201d demurred the man gravely. \u201cI think I understand.\u201d\n\nThat walk was a strange one. The sun had set and the woods were full\nof shadows, and of sounds unheard in the daytime. Ethel was faint and\nnervous. The miner was silent. Once or twice Ethel spoke perfunctorily.\nHis answers were civil but short. At the edge of the private grounds the\ngirl paused.\n\n\u201cThank you very much; I shall not forget your courtesy,\u201d she said,\nhesitating a moment, then resolutely offering her hand.\n\nIt was not the finger-tips the man touched this time\u2014it was the hand\nfrom nail to wrist; and his clasp quite hurt her with its fierceness.\n\n\u201cMiss Barrington, you thought me a brute the other day when you spoke so\nkindly to me, and no wonder. I can only beg your pardon\u2014your words cut\ndeep. I am going to the mines tomorrow\u2014the gold mines, I mean. I\u2019m glad\nI had this chance to speak to you. You were wrong, Miss Barrington\u2014I\u2014I\u2019m\nnot the good man you think!\u201d He dropped her hand and turned away.\n\n\u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t believe it!\u201d she called softly, and fled, swift-footed, across\nthe lawn.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMark Hemenway did not appear at The Maples that night. A message from him\nreceived by Mr. Barrington in the evening said that he had been suddenly\ncalled away on business connected with his gold mine; that he would\nreturn soon, however, and would like immediately to make arrangements\nwhereby he could sever his connection with the Candria Mining Company, as\nhis new interests needed all his attention.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d commented Mr. Barrington. \u201cI never saw a little money make such\na dam fool of a man as it has of Hemenway!\u201d\n\nEthel\u2019s lips parted, then closed with sudden determination. Twelve hours\nlater she left for Dalton without mentioning to her father her experience\nof the day before, and within a week she had sailed from New York on a\nsteamer bound for Liverpool.\n\n\n                                    X\n\nThe discovery of gold had made all the miners at Skinner Valley restless,\nand Hustler Joe was among the first to take his wages and start for the\npromised bonanza.\n\nHustler Joe of the coal mines was still \u201cHustler Joe\u201d of the gold mines.\nThe same ceaseless, untiring energy spurred the man on to constant labor.\nThe claim he staked out proved to be the richest in the place and wealth\nsought him out and knocked at his cabin door.\n\nStrange to say, Hustler Joe was surprised. He had come to the mines\nsimply because they promised excitement and change. He had thought, too,\nthat possibly they harbored the peace and forgetfulness for which he so\nlonged.\n\nBut peace had fled at his approach and wealth had come unasked. Man-like,\nhe regarded the unsought with indifference and gazed only at the\nunattainable; whereupon wealth rustled her golden garments to charm his\nears and flashed her bright beauty to dazzle his eyes. Still failing to\nwin his heart, she whispered that she\u2014even she\u2014was peace in disguise, and\nthat he had but to embrace her to find what he sought.\n\nIt was then that Hustler Joe yielded. In a year he had sold half his\nclaim for a fabulous sum. The other half he retained, and leaving it to\nbe developed under the charge of expert engineers, he left for Skinner\nValley.\n\nHustler Joe had never forgotten the little hunchback pedler, nor the debt\nof gratitude he owed him. Many a time in the old days at the coal mines\nhe had tried to pay this debt, but always, in his own estimation, he had\nfailed. So it was of Pedler Jim that he first thought when this new power\nof wealth came into his hands.\n\nThe news of Hustler Joe\u2019s good luck had not reached Skinner Valley,\nand the man was in the same rough miner\u2019s garb when he pushed open the\nfamiliar door of the \u201cEmporium\u201d in search of Pedler Jim.\n\n\u201cWell, if it ain\u2019t Hustler Joe!\u201d exclaimed the hunchback delightedly.\n\u201cYou\u2019re a sight good fur sore eyes. Come back ter stay?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, awhile, maybe. How\u2019s the world using you these days, Jim?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, fair\u2014fair; \u2019tain\u2019t quite \u2019s good as I\u2019d like\u2014but I ain\u2019t\ncomplainin\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder if anything would make you complain\u2014I never heard you,\u201d\nremarked Joe, helping himself to a seat on the counter.\n\n\u201cWell, now that ye mention it, mebbe I don\u2019t much\u2014I hain\u2019t no need to. My\nappetite\u2019s good an\u2019 my conscience is clear; an\u2019 a clear conscience is\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cJim,\u201d interrupted the miner sharply, \u201cdid you ever hear of Aladdin and\nhis lamp?\u201d\n\n\u201cHuh? Oh, the feller that rubbed it an\u2019 got what he wanted?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the chap.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell\u2014s\u2019posin\u2019 I have?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I only wondered what you\u2019d ask for if you had one to rub.\u201d\n\n\u201cGorry\u2014I wish\u2019t I had!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what would you?\u201d persisted Joe, his face alight.\n\n\u201cWhat would I? Well, I\u2019ll tell ye. I\u2019d buy the big house on the hill\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2014Barrington\u2019s?\u201d interrupted Joe.\n\n\u201cGee whiz, no! I mean the empty one that Rotalick lived in; an\u2019 I\u2019d make\nit over into a hospital, an\u2019 I\u2019d add to it as I was able.\u201d\n\n\u201cA hospital? Why, there is one.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I know\u2014the company\u2019s; but the boys always have ter quit there\nlong \u2019fore they\u2019re able. They can\u2019t work, an\u2019 if they laze \u2019round home\nit takes furever to git well\u2014what with the noise an\u2019 the children an\u2019\nall. They crawl down here to the store, an\u2019 my heart jest aches fur \u2019em,\nthey\u2019re so peaked-lookin\u2019. I\u2019d have it all fixed up with trees an\u2019 posies\nan\u2019 places ter set, ye know, where they could take some comfort while\nthey was gittin\u2019 well.\u201d\n\nA moisture came into Joe\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cBut how about yourself?\u201d he asked. \u201cYou haven\u2019t rubbed out anything for\nyourself, Jim.\u201d\n\n\u201cFur me? Gorry\u2014if I jest had that lamp, you\u2019d see me rubbin\u2019 out\nsomethin\u2019 fur me, all right. I\u2019ve been wantin\u2019 ter send home a box ter\nthe old folks\u2014\u2019way back in Maine, ye know. Jiminy Christmas, man, there\u2019d\nbe no end ter the black silk dresses and gold-headed canes an\u2019 fixin\u2019s\nan\u2019 fur-belows that I\u2019d rub out an\u2019 send to \u2019em!\u201d\n\nHustler Joe laughed; then something came into his throat and choked the\nlaugh back.\n\n\u201cBut all this isn\u2019t for you, Jim,\u201d he remonstrated.\n\n\u201cHuh? Not fur me? Fur heaven\u2019s sake, man, who is it fur, then?\u201d\n\nThe miner laughed again and slid off the counter.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve got quite a store, Jim. Ever wish you had more room?\u201d he asked\nabruptly.\n\nPedler Jim not only nibbled at the bait, but swallowed it.\n\n\u201cWell, ye see, I\u2019m goin\u2019 ter have the place next door when I git money\nenough and then I\u2019ll jine \u2019em together. That\u2019ll be somethin\u2019 worth\nwhile,\u201d he continued.\n\nHustler Joe easily kept him talking on this fascinating theme a full ten\nminutes, then he prepared to take his leave.\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s see,\u201d he mused aloud, \u201cyou came from Maine, you say. About\nwhere\u2014the town, I mean?\u201d\n\nJim named it.\n\n\u201cYou say the old folks are living there yet?\u201d\n\nJim nodded.\n\n\u201cName is Powers, I suppose, same as yours; maybe you were named for your\nfather, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; father\u2019s name was Ebenezer, an\u2019 mother objected\u2014so it\u2019s \u2018Jim\u2019 I am.\nWhy? Goin\u2019 ter dig up my family tree by the roots?\u201d asked the little man\nwhimsically.\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it!\u201d laughed the miner, looking strangely embarrassed as he\nhurried out the door.\n\n\u201cMonte Cristo\u201d had been Hustler Joe\u2019s favorite tale in his boyhood days.\nHe thought of it now, as he left the \u201cEmporium,\u201d and the thought brought\na smile to his lips.\n\nA few days later Pedler Jim was dumfounded to receive a call from a\nWestmont lawyer.\n\n\u201cWell, my friend,\u201d the man began, \u201cI have a few little documents here\nthat demand your attention.\u201d\n\nPedler Jim eyed the formidable-looking papers with some apprehension.\n\n\u201cNow see here, sir,\u201d he demurred, \u201cmy conscience is perfectly clear. I\ndon\u2019t want nothin\u2019 to do with sech devilish-lookin\u2019 things as that!\u201d\u2014his\neyes on the big red seal. \u201cI hain\u2019t never harmed no one\u2014\u2019tain\u2019t an\narres\u2019, is it?\u201d he added, his voice suddenly failing him.\n\n\u201cWell, hardly!\u201d returned the lawyer, chuckling to himself. \u201cThis, my\nfriend, is the deed, filled out in your name, to the Rotalick property\non the hill back here; and this,\u201d he continued, taking up another paper\nand paying no attention to the little hunchback, who had dropped in limp\nstupefaction on to a packing-box, \u201cthis is the deed\u2014also made out in your\nname\u2014to the building adjoining this store on the south. Mr. Balch, the\npresent occupant, has a lease which expires in two months. After that the\nproperty is at your disposal.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut where in thunder did I git it?\u201d demanded Pedler Jim.\n\n\u201cThat is not my business, sir,\u201d said the lawyer, with a bow.\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be jiggered!\u201d murmured the hunchback, gingerly picking up one\nof the deeds and peering at it.\n\nPedler Jim was still further astounded to find that to his tiny bank\naccount had been added a sum so large that he scarcely believed his eyes.\nIt was entered under the name \u201cHospital Fund.\u201d\n\nFollowing close upon all this came a letter from the folks at home:\n\n        _Dear Jimmie_: What a good, good son we have, and how can\n      we ever thank you! (\u201cDear Jimmie\u201d looked blank.) The black\n      silk, so soft and rich, will make up into such a beautiful\n      gown\u2014much too fine for your old mother, Jimmie, but I shall\n      be proud of it. Father is already quite puffed up with his\n      lovely gold-topped cane. Nellie and Mary and Tom and John\n      have divided up the pretty ribbons and books and sweetmeats\n      to suit themselves, as long as you didn\u2019t single them out\n      by name. (\u201cNo\u2014I\u2019m blest if I did!\u201d murmured Jim.) We were\n      proud and pleased to get the box, Jimmie, both because the\n      things were so beautiful and because you thought to send\n      them. (\u201cI\u2019ll be hanged if I did!\u201d muttered the hunchback,\n      scratching his head in his perplexity.) Why don\u2019t you come\n      on East and see us, dear? We wish you would.\n\nThen followed bits of neighborhood gossip and family news, ending with\nanother burst of thanks which left Pedler Jim helpless with bewilderment.\n\nIt was that night that Somers was talking in the store.\n\n\u201cYes, he\u2019s rich\u2014rich as mud, they say, an\u2019 I ain\u2019t sorry, neither. There\nain\u2019t anyone I know that I\u2019d as soon would have a streak o\u2019 luck as\nHustler Joe.\u201d\n\nPedler Jim was across the room, but he heard.\n\n\u201cRich! Hustler Joe rich!\u201d he demanded, springing to his feet.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s what he is!\u201d\n\n\u201cJiminy Christmas!\u201d shouted the hunchback. \u201cI\u2019ve found him\u2014he was the\nlamp himself!\u201d\n\n\n                                   XI\n\nIt was in Dalton, the nearest large city to Skinner Valley, that Hustler\nJoe began his career as a rich man.\n\nHe built him a house\u2014a house so rare and costly that people came from\nmiles around to stare and wonder. Society not only opened its doors to\nhim, but reached out persuasive hands and displayed its most alluring\ncharms. She demanded but one thing\u2014a new name: \u201cHustler Joe\u201d could\nscarcely be tolerated in the aristocratic drawing-rooms of the inner\ncircle! He gave her \u201cWestbrook,\u201d and thenceforth \u201cMr. Joseph Westbrook\u201d\nwas a power in the city.\n\nHe was petted by maneuvering mamas, flattered by doting papas, and beamed\nupon by aspiring daughters; yet the firm lips seldom relaxed in a smile,\nand his groom told of long night rides when the master would come home\nin the gray of the morning with his horse covered with mud and foam. But\nsociety cared not. Society loves a Mystery\u2014if the Mystery be rich.\n\nWhen Joseph Westbrook\u2019s mansion was finished and furnished from cellar to\ngarret and placed in the hands of a dignified, black-robed housekeeper at\nthe head of a corps of servants, and when his stables were filled with\nthoroughbreds and equipped with all things needful, from a gold-tipped\nwhip to a liveried coachman, Mr. Joseph Westbrook himself was as restless\nand ill at ease as Hustler Joe had been in the renovated shanty on the\nhillside.\n\nThe balls and the dinners\u2014invitations to which poured in upon him\u2014he\nattended in much the same spirit that Hustler Joe had displayed in\nloitering in Pedler Jim\u2019s \u201cEmporium\u201d\u2014anywhere to get rid of himself.\nBut if the inner man was the same, the outer certainly was not; and the\nwell-groomed gentleman of leisure bore little resemblance to the miner of\na year before.\n\nOn the night of the Charity Ball Westbrook had been almost rude in his\nevasion of various unwelcome advances, and he now stood in the solitude\nfor which he had striven, watching the dancers with sombre eyes. Suddenly\nhis face lighted up; but the flame that leaped to his eyes was instantly\nquenched by the look of indifference he threw into his countenance.\nComing toward him was Ethel Barrington, leaning on the arm of her father.\n\n\u201cMr. Westbrook,\u201d said the old gentleman genially, \u201cmy little girl says\nshe is sure she has seen your face somewhere, so I have brought her over\nto renew old acquaintance.\u201d\n\nSomeone spoke to John Barrington then, and he turned aside, while\nWestbrook found himself once more clasping a slim firm hand, and looking\ninto a well-remembered pair of blue eyes.\n\n\u201cYou are\u2014\u2014?\u201d\n\n\u201cHustler Joe,\u201d he supplied quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.\n\n\u201cI knew it!\u201d she exclaimed, her pleasure frankly shown. \u201cI never could\nforget your face,\u201d she added impulsively, then colored in confusion as\nshe realized the force of her words.\n\nBut his tactful reply put her immediately at ease and they were soon\nchatting merrily together, closely watched by many curious eyes. Society\nnever had seen Mr. Joseph Westbrook in just this mood before.\n\n\u201cFather did not recognize you,\u201d said Ethel, after a time.\n\n\u201cNo; I was introduced to Mr. Barrington at the Essex Club a week ago. I\nhardly thought he would remember Hustler Joe. You have just returned,\nMiss Barrington?\u201d\n\n\u201cA month ago\u2014from Europe, I mean; mother is there yet. America looks\nwonderfully good to me\u2014I have been away from it the greater part of the\nlast two years, you know. When I came home to Dalton I found the name\nof Mr. Joseph Westbrook on every lip. You seem to be a very important\npersonage, sir,\u201d she laughed.\n\n\u201cA little gilding goes a long way, sometimes,\u201d he replied, with a bitter\nsmile.\n\n\u201cBut there must have been something to gild!\u201d she challenged. \u201cMr.\nWestbrook, for the last two weeks I have been at The Maples\u2014have you been\ndown to Skinner Valley lately?\u201d she asked, with peculiar abruptness.\n\n\u201cNot for some months.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are some changes in the village.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat poor little deformed storekeeper has bought the Rotalick house and\nhas turned it into the dearest little convalescents\u2019 home imaginable.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that so?\u201d murmured Westbrook, meeting Miss Barrington\u2019s gaze with a\nface that was innocently noncommittal. \u201cPedler Jim always was kind to the\nboys.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it would seem; still\u2014someone must have helped him in this,\u201d she\nsuggested, her eyes on his again.\n\n\u201cDo you think so? Possibly! I am wondering, Miss Barrington, if we might\nnot find it cooler over there by the window. Will you allow me to escort\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps we might,\u201d she smilingly assented. \u201cPerhaps we could find some\nsubject of conversation other than Hustler Joe\u2019s generosity to Pedler\nJim, too\u2014we might try!\u201d She threw him a merry glance, which he answered\nwith a shrug of his shoulders.\n\n\u201cIndeed, Miss Barrington, you quite overestimate anything I may have had\nto do in the matter. It was entirely Pedler Jim\u2019s idea. How about the\nreading-room?\u201d he suddenly asked, mentioning Miss Barrington\u2019s latest\ngift to the miners, \u201cand the kindergarten class, and the\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAh\u2014please!\u201d interrupted the girl, with hand upraised in laughing\nprotest. \u201cI acknowledge myself vanquished at my own game. I\u2019ll talk\nabout\u2014the weather, now, if you like,\u201d she finished dutifully.\n\nWestbrook laughed, but before he could reply Miss Barrington was claimed\nby a tall young fellow for the next dance.\n\n\u201cI wonder,\u201d he mused as he saw them glide gracefully into the waltz\u2014\u201cI\nwonder if dancing belongs to those things one never forgets. I\u2019ll have to\nbrush up my old steps\u2014and learn some new ones,\u201d he added, after a pause.\n\nFrom the night of the Charity Ball the world appeared in new colors for\nWestbrook. He did not stop to question the cause of all this change. If\nwealth were lifting her disguise and showing a glimpse of peace, he was\ntoo rejoiced to care to ask the reason.\n\n\u201cI wish you\u2019d come up to the house some time,\u201d said John Barrington to\nWestbrook one evening soon after the Charity Ball. \u201cI\u2019d like to talk with\nyou\u2014we can\u2019t make any headway in this infernal racket!\u201d\u2014the \u201cinfernal\nracket\u201d in question being the high C\u2019s and low G\u2019s of some world-famous\nsingers at a particularly exclusive musical.\n\nWestbrook smiled.\n\n\u201cThank you; I should be only too happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen call it tomorrow night\u2014to dinner. Seven o\u2019clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will\u2014and thank you,\u201d said Westbrook after a momentary hesitation.\n\nTo his daughter John Barrington said a little later:\n\n\u201cOh, I\u2019ve invited Mr. Westbrook up to dinner tomorrow night.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Westbrook!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, yes\u2014why not? You seem surprised.\u201d\n\n\u201cGilding does count, doesn\u2019t it, father dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cEh? Gilding? My dear, I don\u2019t know what you mean. I know he\u2019s rich\nas mud\u2014if that\u2019s what you\u2019re talking about; but he\u2019s got more than\nmoney\u2014he\u2019s got brains. He knows as much about mines as I do! I like\nhim\u2014he\u2019s worth a dozen of the youths that usually flutter about you.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he is,\u201d laughed Ethel, the color in her cheeks deepening.\n\nThat was but the first of many visits. Barrington was urgent, Ethel\ncharmingly cordial\u2014and Westbrook, nothing loth.\n\n\n                                   XII\n\n\u201cI\u2019m in search of a good lawyer,\u201d said Westbrook to John Barrington one\nday. \u201cCan you recommend one to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed I can. I have in mind the very man\u2014he\u2019s been doing a little work\nfor me, and he is very highly spoken of.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat sounds about O. K. Who is he?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just the point,\u201d laughed the older man; \u201cthe name\u2019s escaped me.\nHe\u2019s from the East\u2014hasn\u2019t been here very long. I\u2019ll tell you what\u2014I\u2019ll\nbring him into your office tomorrow. Will that do?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will\u2014and thank you.\u201d\n\nWestbrook\u2019s \u201coffice\u201d was something new. A life of leisure was becoming\nwearisome; consequently he invested in various bits of real estate,\nopened an office, put a man in charge, and of late had himself tended\nstrictly to business, such time as he could spare from his social\nengagements.\n\nIt was into this office that Mr. Barrington came one morning accompanied\nby a short, smooth-faced man whose garments were irreproachable in style\nand cut.\n\n\u201cAh, Westbrook,\u201d began Barrington, \u201clet me introduce Mr. Martin, of\nMartin & Gray, the lawyer of whom I was telling you yesterday.\u201d\n\nAgain the room and all it contained\u2014save the figure of Martin\nhimself\u2014faded from Westbrook\u2019s sight, and he saw the New England street\nwith the lawyer\u2019s sign in the foreground. The next moment the vision was\ngone, and he had extended a cordial hand.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m very glad to meet Mr. Martin,\u201d he said, looking the lawyer straight\nin the eye.\n\n\u201cMr. Westbrook\u2014delighted, I\u2019m sure,\u201d murmured the little man suavely;\nthen, in a puzzled tone, \u201chave I had the honor of meeting you before, Mr.\nWestbrook? There is something familiar about you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there?\u201d began Westbrook, but John Barrington interrupted.\n\n\u201cThere, Martin, you\u2019ve hit my case exactly! He\u2019s puzzled me a thousand\ntimes with a little turn or twist that\u2019s like someone I\u2019ve seen. Dash\nit\u2014who is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy features must be cast in a common mold,\u201d laughed Westbrook, \u201cto\nremind so many of one they know.\u201d\n\n\u201cUm\u2014ah\u2014well\u2014I shouldn\u2019t want to say quite that!\u201d retorted Barrington.\n\u201cWell, gentlemen,\u201d he resumed after a pause, \u201cI\u2019ll leave you to your own\ndevices. I\u2019m off\u2014good morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood morning, and thank you,\u201d replied Westbrook, rising. \u201cI\u2019ve no doubt\nMr. Martin will prove a credit to your introduction,\u201d he concluded as he\nbowed the elder gentleman out. Then he turned to the lawyer and began the\nbusiness at hand.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn his own room that night Westbrook carried a small mirror close to the\nlight and scrutinized himself for some minutes.\n\n\u201cH\u2019m,\u201d he mused, \u201chair rather gray for a man not yet thirty; still\u2014it\nlooks less like that of a youth of twenty.\u201d\n\nHe stroked his carefully trimmed beard meditatively.\n\n\u201cHides the telltale mouth and chin pretty well,\u201d he murmured. \u201cMr. Joseph\nWestbrook can stay where he is for the present, I think.\u201d\n\nThe next evening Westbrook called at the Barringtons\u2019. He found Ethel\nand Mr. Martin at the piano singing a duet which they continued at\nhis solicitation. Then the two musicians drifted into a discussion\nof Martin\u2019s favorite composer, which was like a foreign language to\nWestbrook.\n\nAfter a half-hour of this the lawyer took his leave. Westbrook drew a\nlong breath, but it was caught and stifled in half completion by Miss\nBarrington\u2019s first remark.\n\n\u201cWhat a fine voice he has!\u201d\n\n\u201cEr\u2014yes, very.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd his knowledge of musical matters is most unusual, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat so?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. He says he wanted to make music his profession, but his parents\nobjected; so he took up law.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d murmured Westbrook without enthusiasm.\n\n\u201cYes, but he talks of musicians as glibly as though he had read Grove\nas much as Blackstone. I haven\u2019t had so good a time discussing my pet\ncomposers for many a day.\u201d\n\nWestbrook stirred restlessly, and his hostess suddenly became aware of\nthe hopelessly lost look in his eyes. She promptly changed the subject.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was the very next day that Mr. Joseph Westbrook appeared in the\nleading book-store of the city.\n\n\u201cI want some lives of musicians,\u201d he announced.\n\n\u201cI beg pardon?\u201d\n\n\u201cBooks, I mean\u2014lives of musicians.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, certainly, of course,\u201d apologized the clerk. \u201cWhich ones?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy\u2014er\u2014the best ones, to be sure.\u201d Westbrook\u2019s voice faltered at first,\nbut it vibrated with the courage of his convictions at the last.\n\nThe clerk suddenly turned his back, and when Westbrook next saw his face\nit was an apoplectic shade of reddish purple.\n\n\u201cCertainly, sir. Bach, Beethoven, Handel, Haydn, Mendelssohn, Mozart,\nChopin\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, put me up one of each,\u201d interrupted Westbrook hastily; he was\ngrowing suspicious of the clerk. He left the store with more dignity than\nhe usually displayed.\n\nThe real estate business would have suffered in the next few days had it\ndepended entirely upon Westbrook, for the greater share of his time was\nspent in poring over the recent addition to his library. At the end of a\nmonth he was sadly entangled in a bewildering maze of fugues, sonatas,\nconcertos and symphonies, in which the names of Bach, Beethoven, Haydn,\nHandel, Mendelssohn, Mozart and Chopin were hopelessly lost.\n\n\n                                  XIII\n\nWestbrook often met the lawyer at the Barringtons\u2019 after that first\nvisit. Martin\u2019s music and Martin\u2019s voice seemed to be unfailing\nattractions in the eyes of Miss Barrington. Westbrook studied his \u201clives\u201d\nassiduously, but only once did he venture to take any part in the\ndiscussions of composers which were so frequent between Miss Barrington\nand the lawyer. That once was sufficient to show him how hopeless was the\ntask he had set for himself; and ever after he kept a discreet silence on\nthe subject of music and all that pertained thereto.\n\nAs the winter passed, Westbrook was seen more and more frequently in the\ncompany of Miss Barrington. His eye had lost its gloom and his step had\ngained a new springiness. Just why, Westbrook did not stop to consider.\nIndeed, the considering of anything was what the man most wished to avoid.\n\nIt was on a beautiful morning in May that he asked Miss Barrington\nto drive with him. The air that brushed his cheek was laden with the\nfragrance of green-growing things, and the girl at his side had never\nseemed so altogether lovely. He let the reins loosen in his hands as he\nsettled back for an hour of unalloyed enjoyment.\n\n\u201cI am particularly glad to take this drive today,\u201d remarked Miss\nBarrington, smiling into his eyes, \u201cfor, as I go away tomorrow, I may not\nhave another opportunity of enjoying one at present.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d demanded Westbrook, suddenly sitting upright.\n\n\u201cI merely said I was going away tomorrow,\u201d she returned merrily, picking\nout with intuitive skill that portion of her remark which had so startled\nhim. Then something in his face made her add\u2014\u201cfor the summer, you know.\u201d\n\nWestbrook pulled the reins taut and snapped the whip sharply. Going\naway! Of course; why not? What of it? Yes, what of it, indeed! Long days\nfraught with sudden emptiness loomed up before him and stretched on into\nweeks devoid of charm. He understood it all now\u2014and he a felon! He could\nhear a girl\u2019s voice saying, \u201cI knew you were a good man the minute I saw\nyour face!\u201d Unconsciously he shrank into the corner of the carriage, and\nwas only brought to a realization of his action by a voice\u2014amused, yet\nslightly piqued\u2014saying:\n\n\u201cReally, Mr. Westbrook, I hardly expected so simple a statement would\nrender you speechless!\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeechless? No, oh, no\u2014certainly not! I beg your pardon, I\u2019m sure,\u201d he\nsaid, talking very fast. \u201cYou\u2019re going away, you tell me. It is needless\nto assure you that we shall all miss you very much. Where do you go, if I\nmay ask\u2014and how long are you to remain?\u201d And he turned to her with eyes\nso full of misery that she could scarcely believe she had heard his words\naright.\n\nBefore she could answer there came the wild, irregular clattering of\nunguided horses\u2019 feet. Westbrook turned quickly to see two frightened\nanimals rushing toward them dragging a swaying empty carriage. By a swift\nand skilful turn he just escaped the collision, but Ethel Barrington felt\nthe hot breath of the beasts as they flew past. In another moment their\nown startled horse had dashed after the runaways with speed scarcely less\nthan their own.\n\nWestbrook brought all his great strength to bear, then\u2014the right rein\nsnapped. The horse swerved sharply, throwing the man to his knees. The\nnext moment he was crawling cautiously, but rapidly, over the dashboard\non to the thill, then to the back of the frightened animal, where he\ncould grasp the dangling broken reins. One strong pull, and the horse\nstopped so suddenly that the man shot over her head to the ground; but\nhe did not relax his hold, and the trembling animal stood conquered.\n\nWestbrook turned to look into the shining eyes of the girl, who had\nleaped from the carriage and come close to his side.\n\n\u201cOh, that was wonderful! But\u2014my God! I thought you\u2019d be killed,\u201d she\ncried, holding out two trembling hands, then sinking to the ground and\nsobbing out her nervousness and relief.\n\nThe man looked down at her with yearningly tender eyes. Involuntarily he\nextended his hand as though to caress the bowed head; but he drew back\nshuddering\u2014that hand had forfeited all right to such a touch. The look in\nher eyes had thrilled him to his finger-tips, but it as quickly stabbed\nhim with the revelation that not he alone would suffer.\n\n\u201cMiss Barrington, don\u2019t, I beg of you,\u201d he said finally, in a voice that\nwas stem with self-control. \u201cYou are completely unnerved\u2014and no wonder.\u201d\nThen he continued more gently, \u201cBut see\u2014Firefly is quiet now. Will you\ndare to drive home behind her if I can manage somehow to mend the reins?\u201d\n\nA vivid color flamed into the girl\u2019s cheeks and she rose unsteadily to\nher feet.\n\n\u201cYes, indeed,\u201d she asserted, forcing her trembling lips to speak\nfirmly. \u201cI am ashamed of myself. I hope you will pay no attention to my\nbabyishness, Mr. Westbrook.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were not babyish, Miss Barrington,\u201d objected Westbrook gravely; \u201con\nthe contrary you were very brave.\u201d But as he helped her into the carriage\nhe averted his eyes and refused to meet her questioning gaze.\n\nAll the way home Ethel Barrington talked with a nervous volubility quite\nunlike herself. Westbrook made an effort to meet her brilliant sallies\nwith something like an adequate return, but after two or three dismal\nfailures he gave it up and lapsed into a gloomy silence broken only by an\noccasional short reply.\n\n\u201cI expect my friends will come this evening to say good-bye\u2014I shall see\nyou, shall I not?\u201d she asked gaily as she gave him her hand in alighting\nat her own door.\n\nBefore Westbrook fully realized what the question was, he had murmured,\n\u201cYes, certainly\u201d; but when he drove away he was muttering, \u201cFool, what\npossible good can it be to you now? Just suppose she knew you for what\nyou are?\u201d\n\nEthel entered her door and slowly climbed the stairs to her room.\n\n\u201cHe cares; I know he does!\u201d she exclaimed under her breath. \u201cBut why\u2014why\ncouldn\u2019t he\u2014?\u201d Then the conscious red, that was yet half in pique, flamed\ninto her cheeks and she shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.\n\nWhen Westbrook called that night she gave him a gracious hand and looked\nfrankly into his eyes with the inward determination to \u201chave no more\nnonsense\u201d; but her eyelids quickly fell before his level gaze and she\nfelt the telltale color burning in her cheeks. She was relieved when her\nfather broke the awkward silence.\n\n\u201cWell, Westbrook, we shall miss you\u2014we\u2019ve got so we depend upon seeing\nyou about once in so often. We shall be in Skinner Valley in August. You\nmust plan to run down to The Maples then and make us a visit. I should\nlike to show you the mines.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d replied Westbrook, glancing toward the door and, for the\nfirst time in his life, welcoming the appearance of Martin.\n\nMartin advanced, smilingly sure of his welcome, nor did he notice that\nMiss Barrington\u2019s greeting was a shade less cordial than usual. His\ncoming was the signal for an adjournment to the music-room, and there\nWestbrook sat with clouded eyes and unheeding ears while the air about\nhim rang with melody. After a time he was conscious that the music had\nstopped and that Ethel was speaking.\n\n\u201cI think I never heard of anything so horrible!\u201d she said.\n\nFrom Martin\u2019s next words Westbrook gathered that they were talking of\na particularly atrocious murder that had been committed in the city the\nnight before. Then the girl spoke again, her voice vibrating with feeling.\n\n\u201cOh, but Mr. Martin\u2014only think of a human being fiendish enough to attack\nhis own son!\u201d\n\nWestbrook tried to rouse himself, to speak, to move; but he seemed bound\nby invisible cords. His head was turned away from the speakers, but he\nsaw their reflection in the mirror facing him, and he noticed that the\nlawyer\u2019s gaze was fixed across the room upon himself with a peculiar\nintentness as he said:\n\n\u201cYes, incredible, I grant, Miss Barrington; and yet, in a little New\nEngland town of my acquaintance a boy of twenty shot down his own father\nin cold blood at their own fireside.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t, Mr. Martin\u2014the human fiend!\u201d shuddered Ethel.\n\nThe lawyer\u2019s eyes did not waver; a strange light was coming into them.\n\n\u201cA human fiend, indeed,\u201d he repeated softly, half rising from his chair.\n\nSomething seemed to snap in Westbrook\u2019s brain, and he forced himself to\nhis feet.\n\n\u201cYour music set me to day-dreaming,\u201d he began, with a smile as he\ncrossed the room, \u201cand your creepy murder stories awoke me to a\nrealization that the sweet sounds had stopped. Come\u201d\u2014he looked straight\ninto Martin\u2019s eyes\u2014\u201csome time you may tell me more of this gruesome\ntale\u2014I am interested in studies of human nature. No doubt you meet with\nmany strange experiences in your business; but now I want you to sing\n\u2018Calvary\u2019 for me. Will you, please? Then I must go.\u201d\n\nMartin rose to his feet with a puzzled frown on his face and picked up a\nsheet of music from the piano.\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Westbrook, when the song was finished. Then he turned\nto Ethel with extended hand. \u201cI hope you will have a pleasant summer,\u201d he\nsaid in stilted politeness.\n\n\u201cYou are very kind. Shall I wish you the same?\u201d\n\nHer voice and her fingers were icy. Her pride was touched, and she\nexpressed no hope as to their future meeting, and certainly Westbrook\ndared not. He left the house with a heart that was bitterly rebellious,\nand the blackness outside seemed to him symbolical of his own despair.\n\nThat night, and for long nights afterward, he rode over the hills outside\nthe city. Little by little his life dropped back into the old rut. All\nthe new warmth and brightness faded with the going of Miss Barrington,\nand he threw himself into business with a zeal that quickly brought\n\u201cWestbrook & Company\u201d into the front rank and filled his purse with yet\ngreater wealth\u2014wealth which he had come to hate, and for which he had no\nuse.\n\n\n                                   XIV\n\nOne morning, long after sunrise, Westbrook entered the outskirts of\nthe city and allowed his tired beast to slow to a walk. In one of the\npoorest streets of the tenement district he saw a white-faced woman, a\ngroup of half a dozen puny children and a forlorn heap of clothing and\nfurniture. He was off his horse in a moment, and a few kindly questions\nbrought out the information that they had been evicted for arrears in\nrent amounting to thirty dollars because the woman had been too ill to\nwork. He straightway paid the sleek little agent not only the amount due,\nbut also a year\u2019s rent in advance and rode away, followed by a volley of\nthanks and blessings from the woman. He did not know that Martin was the\nlandlord and that he came out of the tenement in time to hear the details\nof the incident fresh from his agent.\n\nAs Westbrook turned the corner of the dingy street a curious elation took\npossession of him. How the sun shone\u2014how exhilarating the air was! How\nhis heart beat in tune with it all! What was this new joy that seemed\nalmost to choke and suffocate him? Was this the shadow of peace at last?\n\nHe threw the reins to the groom with so beaming a smile that the man\nscratched his head meditatively for a full half-minute.\n\n\u201cFaith, an\u2019 what\u2019s got into the master?\u201d he muttered as he led the horse\nto the stable.\n\nIn the days that followed society was treated to a new sensation\u2014the\nMystery turned into a Philanthropist. A school, a library and a hospital\nwere under way in a wonderfully short time. Did Westbrook hear of anyone\nwanting anything\u2014from a toy to a piano or a dinner to an education\u2014he\npromptly bought and presented it. The result was disastrous. There came\na constant stream of beggars to his door, varying from those in rags\nasking a nickel to bank presidents demanding a million\u2014for \u201cinvestment,\u201d\nof course; furthermore, he was obliged to hire two private secretaries to\nattend to his mail.\n\nIn August came a cordial note from Mr. Barrington inviting him to The\nMaples for a two weeks\u2019 visit. The stiffly worded refusal which Westbrook\ndespatched by return mail threw John Barrington into a state of puzzled\ndissatisfaction, and John Barrington\u2019s daughter into a feeling of\nunreasoning anger against the world in general and Joseph Westbrook in\nparticular. The anger was not less when, two months later, Westbrook\ncalled on the Barringtons just four weeks after they had come up to their\ntown residence in Dalton.\n\nIt was not a pleasant call. Westbrook was stilted, Mr. Barrington plainly\nill at ease, and Ethel the personification of chill politeness; yet she\nbecame cordiality itself when Martin appeared a little later. She chatted\nand laughed with the lawyer and sent merry shafts of wit across the room\nto Westbrook and her father. But when Westbrook had gone she lapsed into\nbored indifference and monosyllables.\n\nMr. Barrington was called from the room after a time, leaving his\ndaughter and Martin alone. The lawyer broached subject after subject with\nunvarying ill success, even music itself failing to awaken more than a\npassing interest. At last he said abruptly:\n\n\u201cQueer chap\u2014that Westbrook!\u201d\n\n\u201cQueer? Why?\u201d almost snapped Miss Barrington.\n\nMartin raised his eyebrows.\n\n\u201cHow can you ask?\u201d he returned. \u201cYou\u2019ve seen him\u2014you know him!\u201d\n\nMiss Barrington gave the lawyer a swift glance. Just what did he mean?\nHad he noticed the change in Westbrook\u2019s manner\u2014his indifference\u2014his\ncoldness? Did he think that she\u2014\u2014?\n\nMiss Barrington laughed softly.\n\n\u201cIndeed, yes, Mr. Martin, I do know him\u2014slightly, perhaps; but \u2018queer\u2019 is\nnot the adjective I would have applied to him.\u201d\n\nThe lawyer leaned forward.\n\n\u201cMiss Barrington, _what_ do you know of him? Did it ever occur to you how\nvery little any of us know of this man?\u201d\n\nThe lady stirred uneasily.\n\n\u201cReally, Mr. Martin, I know him for a gentleman, as you do\u2014I might\nalso add that he is quite a noted philanthropist, of late,\u201d she added\nteasingly.\n\n\u201c\u2018Philanthropist!\u2019\u201d scorned the lawyer.\n\nMiss Barrington\u2019s manner instantly changed.\n\n\u201cMr. Westbrook is doing a world of good with his money; I admire him for\nit,\u201d she said with decision.\n\n\u201cOh, of course,\u201d returned the man smoothly. \u201cStill, I wonder why\u2014this\nsudden generosity!\u201d\n\n\u201cSudden? It\u2019s a long time since I first heard of Mr. Westbrook\u2019s good\ndeeds, Mr. Martin,\u201d replied Miss Barrington, a vision of Pedler Jim and\nhis hospital rising before her eyes.\n\n\u201cH\u2019m-m,\u201d murmured the lawyer, his level gaze on her face, \u201cyou knew him\nbefore, perhaps\u2014this man they\u2014er\u2014call \u2018Westbrook.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe lady sprang to her feet and crossed the room to the piano.\n\n\u201cOh, fie, Mr. Lawyer!\u201d she laughed nervously. \u201cI\u2019m no poor victim on the\nwitness stand. Come\u2014let\u2019s try this duet.\u201d\n\nThe man followed her and leaned his elbow on the piano, but he did not\npick up the music nor take his eyes from her face.\n\n\u201cYou have known him before, then\u2014under his other name, of course,\u201d he\nhazarded.\n\nA swift red came into Ethel\u2019s cheeks.\n\n\u201cPerhaps\u2014perhaps not! I really do not care to discuss it.\u201d And she\nwheeled around upon the piano-stool and dashed into the prelude of the\nduet.\n\nMartin waited until her hands glided into the soft ripple of the\naccompaniment.\n\n\u201cThen you, of all people, Miss Barrington,\u201d he began again, \u201cshould\nknow that this philanthropic mummery is nothing but a salve for his\nconscience. Admirable, I\u2019m sure!\u201d\n\nThe music stopped with a crash.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d she demanded. \u201cI don\u2019t know what you are talking\nabout, with your miserable innuendoes.\u201d\n\nMartin\u2019s face paled.\n\n\u201cInnuendoes!\u201d he burst out, losing his temper; \u201cthen I\u2019ll speak plainly,\nsince you demand it! Since when, Miss Barrington, have you made a\npractice of shielding\u2014murderers?\u201d\n\nHe regretted the word the instant it had left his lips, but he forced\nhimself to meet Miss Barrington\u2019s horrified gaze unflinchingly.\n\n\u201cMurderer!\u201d she gasped. \u201cHustler Joe was no murderer!\u201d\n\nAt that moment Mr. Barrington re-entered the room and Martin turned to\nhim in relief. Five minutes later he had made his adieus and left the\nhouse.\n\n\n                                   XV\n\nMurderer!\n\nEthel fled to her room and locked the door, but the word laughed at bolts\nand bars. It looked from the walls and the pictures and peeped at her\nfrom the pages of the book she tried to read. She opened the window and\ngazed up at the stars, but they, too, knew the hated word and spelled it\nout in twinkling points of light.\n\nMurderer?\n\nAh, no, it could not be\u2014and yet\u2014\u2014\n\nAway back in Ethel\u2019s memory was a picture of the Deerfield woods that\nskirted the lawn at The Maples. She saw the tall, grave-faced miner and\nthe imperious girl, and even now the words rang in her ears\u2014\u201cI\u2019m not the\ngood man you think, Miss Barrington!\u201d Half-forgotten tales of \u201cHustler\nJoe\u2019s queerness\u201d came to her, too, and assumed an appearance of evil.\n\nAnd was this to be the explanation of that ride\u2014that ride on which\nshe had almost betrayed herself only to be met by stern words of\nconventionality? Was this the meaning of the infrequent calls, the\naverted face, the eyes so misery-laden if by chance they met her own?\n\nA murderer?\n\nAh, no, no! He was so good\u2014so kind\u2014so brave! There were Pedler Jim, the\nminers whose lives he had saved, and the multitudes of the city\u2019s poor to\ngive the lie to so base a charge; and yet\u2014Martin had said that these very\nbenefactions were but a lullaby to a guilty conscience.\n\nThe night brought Ethel no relief. The dark was peopled with horrid\nshapes; and sleep, when it came, was dream-haunted and unrefreshing.\nIn the morning, weary and heavy-eyed, she awoke to a day of restless\nwandering from room to room. Twenty-four hours later her trunk was packed\nand she was on her way to The Maples.\n\nIt was at about this time that Westbrook\u2019s philanthropy took a new turn.\nHe began to spend long hours in the city prison while society looked on\nand shrugged disdainful shoulders. The striped-garbed creatures behind\nthe bars seemed to possess a peculiar fascination for him. He haunted\ntheir habitation daily, yet he never failed to shudder at every clang of\nthe iron doors.\n\nParticularly was he kind to those outcasts from human sympathy\u2014the\nmurderers. So far did he carry this branch of his charity that the\nauthorities ventured to remonstrate with the great man one day, telling\nhim that he was putting a premium on the horrible crime. They never\nforgot the look that came over the beneficent Mr. Joseph Westbrook\u2019s\nface as he turned and walked away.\n\nIt was on that night that the servants said he sat up until morning in\nhis library, raging around the room like some mad creature, so that they\nwere all afraid, and one came and listened at the door. There he heard\nhis master cry out:\n\n\u201cMy God\u2014is it not enough? Is there no atonement\u2014no peace?\u201d Then there was\na long, quivering sigh, and a noise as of a clinched hand striking the\ndesk, and a low muttered, \u201cOh, the pitiless God of Justice!\u201d\n\nIn the morning Westbrook left the house before breakfast and boarded the\neight o\u2019clock train for Skinner Valley.\n\n\n                                   XVI\n\nWestbrook had gone back to Skinner Valley for a talk with Pedler Joe,\nhaving it in his mind to tell the little hunchback his life story as that\nof a friend of his and so get the benefit of sound advice without quite\nbetraying his secret. But the door opened suddenly and Bill Somers burst\ninto the store.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s another blow-up at the mine!\u201d he gasped thickly. \u201cAn\u2019 the old\nman\u2019s daughter\u2014she\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat old man\u2019s daughter?\u201d demanded Westbrook, his lips white.\n\n\u201cShe\u2014Barrington\u2019s girl\u2014is down there in that hell! She went in with her\nfriends at two o\u2019clock. They\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich entrance?\u201d thundered Westbrook, with his hand on the door.\n\n\u201cBeachmont! They\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nWestbrook dashed down the steps and across the sidewalk, whipped out his\nknife and cut loose a horse from the shafts of a wagon in front of the\nstore. The next moment he had mounted the animal and was urging it into a\nmad run toward the Beachmont entrance of the Candria mine.\n\nAgain did he face a crowd of weeping women and children crazed with\nterror; but this time there stood among them the bowed form of the great\nmine-king himself. John Barrington\u2019s lips were stern and set, and only\nhis eyes spoke as he grasped Westbrook\u2019s hand.\n\nOnce more did a band of heroic men work their way bit by bit into the\nmine, fighting the damp at every turn under Westbrook\u2019s directions.\n\nBarrington had looked at the preparations in amazement.\n\n\u201cHow comes it that this Westbrook, this millionaire, knows the mine so\nwell?\u201d he stammered.\n\nA woman standing near\u2014Bill Somers\u2019s wife\u2014answered him.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s Hustler Joe, sir,\u201d she said softly.\n\nHustler Joe! John Barrington drew a deep breath as the memories of the\nBonanza catastrophe came to him.\n\n\u201cThank God for Hustler Joe!\u201d he breathed fervently. \u201cIf anyone can save\nmy little girl, \u2019tis he!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re right, sir\u2014an\u2019 he\u2019ll do it, too,\u201d returned the little woman, her\neyes full of unshed tears.\n\n\n                                  XVII\n\nSlowly, so slowly, the rescuers worked their way into the mine. One by\none the unconscious forms of the miners were borne back to fresh air and\nsafety. But no trace could be found of Miss Barrington and her band of\nsightseers.\n\nAt last, far down a gallery, Westbrook heard a faint cry. With an\nanswering shout of reassurance he dashed ahead of the others and came\nface to face with Ethel Barrington.\n\n\u201cYou!\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cYes, yes; you\u2019re not hurt?\u201d\n\nShe shook her head and leaned heavily against the wall. The reaction was\nmaking her head swim.\n\n\u201cAnd your friends?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere\u201d\u2014she pointed to the ground almost at her feet. \u201cThey\u2019re not\nhurt\u2014they fainted.\u201d\n\nStalwart miners poured into the narrow chamber and lifted the prostrate\nforms, leaving Westbrook to follow with Miss Barrington. That young lady\nstill leaned against the wall.\n\n\u201cI\u2014we should be going; can you\u2014let me help you,\u201d stammered Westbrook.\n\n\u201cOh, I can walk,\u201d she laughed nervously, making a vain attempt to steady\nher limbs as she moved slowly away from her support.\n\nWestbrook caught her outstretched hand and passed his disengaged arm\naround her waist.\n\n\u201cMiss Barrington, you\u2019re quite unnerved,\u201d he said, his voice suddenly\nfirm. \u201cPardon me, but you must accept my assistance.\u201d And he half\ncarried, half led her down the long gallery, at the end of which they\ncould hear the steps and voices of their companions.\n\nAll the misery of the last few days fled from Ethel\u2019s mind. She was\nconscious only of the strength and bravery and tenderness of the man at\nher side. Martin\u2019s hated words became as phantoms of a past existence.\n\n\u201cYou\u2014you haven\u2019t told me how you came to be here today, Mr. Westbrook,\u201d\nshe began again, a little hysterically. \u201cI thought you were in Dalton.\u201d\n\n\u201cI came down this morning,\u201d he said. Then added softly, \u201cThank God!\u201d\n\nEthel was silent for a moment. When she spoke again her voice shook.\n\n\u201cAs usual, Mr. Westbrook\u2014you are near when I need you! If I am ever in\ndanger again, I shall promptly look for you. Now see that you do not\ndisappoint me!\u201d she added with assumed playfulness, trying to hide her\ndepth of feeling.\n\nThey had almost reached the turn when a distant rumble and vibrating\ncrash shook the walls about them, throwing Westbrook and Miss Barrington\nto the ground. It was some time before the man could stagger to his feet\nand help his companion to stand upright.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2014what was it?\u201d she gasped.\n\nWestbrook advanced two steps only to come sharply against a wall of earth\nand timbers.\n\n\u201cMy God\u2014the roof is fallen!\u201d he cried.\n\nShe came close to his side.\n\n\u201cThen there was another explosion?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they will find us?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat wall may be\u2014\u201d he stopped abruptly.\n\n\u201cMany feet in thickness, I know,\u201d she supplied.\n\n\u201cAnd the damp\u2014if it should enter the gallery from the rear\u2014\u201d his voice\nchoked into silence.\n\n\u201cI know\u2014I understand. But\u2014we are together!\u201d She laid her hand on his arm.\n\nHe caught the hand and held it in both his own, then slowly raised it and\nlaid the soft palm against his lips.\n\n\u201cEthel\u2014Ethel\u2014may God forgive me!\u201d he whispered brokenly.\n\nShe swayed dizzily, and he caught and held her close.\n\n\u201cI\u2014I think I am going to faint,\u201d she murmured. \u201cI\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHis arms tightened their clasp and her head drooped until it lay in the\nhollow of his shoulder.\n\n\u201cEthel, darling\u2014only one little word! Ah, sweetheart\u2014I\u2019ve loved you so!\u201d\n\nShe raised her hand and just touched his cheek with her fingers, then let\nher arm fall about his neck. His head bent low and his lips closed over\nhers as she drew a long, quivering sigh.\n\n\u201cMay God forgive me,\u201d he breathed, \u201cbut \u2019tis the end\u2014the end!\u201d\n\n\n                                  XVIII\n\nWhen Ethel Barrington regained consciousness she was in her own bed at\nThe Maples, but it was a full two days after that before they let her\nask the questions that so often came to her lips. It was her father who\nfinally answered her.\n\n\u201cYes, dear, you were unconscious when the miners found you. Westbrook\ncould barely speak. Why, girlie, when that second crash came and the\nminers realized that Hustler Joe\u2014as they insist upon calling that\nremarkable man\u2014was himself imprisoned, they swarmed into that mine like\nants and attacked the fallen wall like madmen! Those that had no pickaxe\nclawed at the dirt and stones with their naked fingers.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd\u2014Mr. Westbrook?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs all right and has been here every day to inquire for you and to bring\nyou these,\u201d replied Mr. Barrington, with a wave of his hand toward the\nsumptuous red roses on the table.\n\nThe girl\u2019s eyes lingered on the flowers and her cheeks suddenly glowed\nwith a reflection of their vivid color.\n\n\u201cHe is very kind,\u201d she murmured as she turned her face away.\n\nFor a week Westbrook and his roses made daily calls. At the end of that\ntime it was reported to him that Miss Barrington was feeling quite like\nherself. The next morning Westbrook did not appear, but his roses came in\ncharge of a boy together with a note for Miss Barrington.\n\nThe missive bore no date, no salutation, but plunged at once into its\nmessage.\n\n        That I should address you at all is an insult, but my\n      cowardly weakness when we were last together makes it a\n      greater insult for me to keep silence now. I have waited\n      until you were quite recovered before giving you this, for\n      I know that it will give you pain\u2014and that it _will_ give\n      you pain is at once my greatest curse and my greatest joy.\n      That I should have dared to love you is despicable, but\n      that I should have allowed you to give me even one tender\n      thought in return is dastardly\u2014and yet, nothing in heaven\n      or hell can take from me the ecstasy of that one moment\n      when your dear lips met mine!\n\n        Forgive me\u2014think kindly of me if you can, for\u2014God help\n      me\u2014I am going away, never to look on your face again.\n      I was a boy of twenty when I committed the sin against\n      God and man that has made my life a thing of horror. For\n      years I have sought for peace; adventure, work, wealth,\n      philanthropy\u2014each alike has failed to bring it. I am going\n      now to my boyhood\u2019s home to receive my just punishment.\n\n        Ah, Ethel, Ethel, my lost love\u2014what can I say to you? I\n      have but words\u2014words\u2014empty words! I can see the horror in\n      your dear eyes. I am not worthy of even the thought of you,\n      and yet, my darling, oh, my darling, were it not for this\n      dread shadow on my life, I swear I would win you for my\n      darling in very truth!\n\n        But now\u2014God help me\u2014farewell!\n\nThere was no name signed, but this Ethel did not notice until she had\nread the note three times with her tear-dimmed eyes; then she whispered:\n\n\u201cPoor fellow! He could not sign \u2018Westbrook\u2019 and he would not sign\u2014the\nother.\u201d\n\nMuch to John Barrington\u2019s amazement, his daughter insisted upon going to\ntown on the noon train that day. In response to his persistent objections\nshe assured him that she felt \u201cperfectly well and quite equal to a\njourney around the world, if necessary.\u201d\n\nAt four o\u2019clock Lawyer Martin was surprised by an urgent note summoning\nhim to the Barringtons\u2019 Dalton residence on Howard Avenue. Half an hour\nafterward he was ushered into the presence of Miss Barrington herself.\n\nThe interview was short, sharp and straight to the point. A few hours\nlater Miss Barrington and her maid boarded the eight o\u2019clock express for\nthe East.\n\n\n                                   XIX\n\nTwenty-four hours passed after Westbrook had sent his letter to Miss\nBarrington before he could so arrange his affairs as to start for the\nlittle New England village of his boyhood. All day and all night he had\nworked with feverish haste, and the time had flown on wings of the wind;\nnow, when he was at last on the morning \u201cLimited,\u201d the hours seemed to\ndrag as though weighted with lead.\n\nHe could see it all\u2014the proud new name he had made for himself\ndragged low in the dust. He knew just how society would wonder and\nsurmise; just how the maneuvering mamas would shake their skirts in\nvirtuous indignation and how the doting papas would nod their heads in\ncongratulation over a miraculous escape.\n\nHe knew how the poor and friendless in the great city would first deny\nthe charge, then weep over the truth. He knew, too, the look that would\ncome to the faces of the miners, and he winced at even the thought of\nthis\u2014Hustler Joe had prized his place in the hearts of his miner friends.\n\nThere was one on whom he dared not let his thoughts rest for a moment;\nyet it was that one\u2019s face which seemed ever before his eyes, and it was\nthat one\u2019s voice which constantly rang in his ears.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAgain the sun had set and it was twilight in the little New England\nvillage. The street had not changed much\u2014the houses were grayer and the\ntrees taller, perhaps.\n\nAs he neared the familiar gate, he saw in the window the face of a\nsilver-haired woman. Was that his mother\u2014his dearly beloved mother of\nlong ago? She turned her head and he was answered.\n\nAfter all, would it not be better to pass on and away again, rather than\nto bow that gray head once more in grief and shame?\n\nHis steps lagged and he almost passed the gate. Then he drew a long\nbreath, turned sharply, strode up the path and pulled the bell.\n\nThe sweet-faced woman opened the door. The man\u2019s dry lips parted, but\nno sound came, for from an inner room advanced Ethel Barrington with a\ngray-haired man whose kindly face wore a strangely familiar smile.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, wife? Is it\u2014Paul?\u201d he asked in tremulous tones.\n\n\n                                EPILOGUE\n\nIt was long hours afterward that Paul Joseph Weston sat with Ethel alone\nin the library.\n\n\u201cBut yourself, dear\u2014you have not told me yet how you came to be here,\u201d he\nsaid.\n\nShe laughed softly.\n\n\u201cRash boy! Was there not need of someone\u2019s preparing your father and\nmother for so wonderful a home-coming? I found out by judicious inquiry\nthat you had not yet left the city, so I knew, when I took the train,\nthat I had at least a few hours\u2019 start of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how\u2014what\u2014how could you, dear? Surely I didn\u2019t tell\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nAgain she laughed, but this time she dimpled into a rosy blush.\n\n\u201cWhen your very disquieting letter came, sir, I remembered something\nMr. Martin had once said to me. I went to town, sent for Mr. Martin and\ninsisted upon his telling me all that he knew of\u2014your youth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that was?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat he believed you to be Paul Weston, who had quarreled with his\nfather and run away after apparently killing the poor gentleman. Mr.\nMartin said that the father did not die, but slowly recovered from his\nwound and made every possible effort to find his son, even sending Martin\nhimself to seek for him. Once Martin traced the boy to a mining camp, but\nthere he lost the trail and never regained it until he thought he saw\nPaul Weston\u2019s features in Joseph Westbrook\u2019s face.\u201d\n\n\u201cEthel, what did Martin first tell you of me that caused you to go to him\nfor aid?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe hinted that you were a\u2014ah, don\u2019t make me say it, please!\u201d\n\nThe man\u2019s face grew stern.\n\n\u201cAnd he knew all the time it was false!\u201d he cried.\n\nShe put a soft finger on his tense lips.\n\n\u201cWe just won\u2019t think of him\u2014and really, I\u2019ve forgiven him long ago, for\nit was he that helped me in the end, you know. Besides, he acknowledged\nthat he didn\u2019t really suppose you were Paul Weston. I\u2014I fancy he didn\u2019t\nwant me to think too highly of this interesting Mr. Joseph Westbrook!\u201d\nshe added saucily.\n\nThe arm that held her tightened its clasp.\n\n\u201cHe needn\u2019t have worried,\u201d she continued, with uptilted chin. \u201cI shall\nnever, never marry Mr. Joseph Westbrook!\u201d\n\n\u201cEthel!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if Hustler Joe or Paul Weston should ask\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHer lips were silenced by a kiss and a fervent, \u201cYou little fraud of a\nsweetheart!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                              _Interludes_\n\n\nThe rich man speaks about how he spends his money, while his friends\nspeak about how he made it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYou could tell the old-time hero by his medals; the modern one is known\nby his collection of loving-cups.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe spendthrift sometimes does more good with his money than the\nphilanthropist.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe fact that figures won\u2019t lie probably accounts for the invention of\nstatistics.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA political job differs from any other kind, inasmuch as you work before\nyou get it, instead of afterward.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe miser holds on to his own money; the millionaire to other people\u2019s.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                            _His Cogitation_\n\n\u201cWell, then, amongst others, there\u2019s the man who habitually talks to\nhimself,\u201d ruminatingly said the Pruntytown Philosopher the other evening.\n\u201cIf he does it in order to listen to himself, he is a fool; if he does\nit to avoid listening to his friends, he is a sage; and if he does it to\nsave his friends from listening to him, he is a philanthropist.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                             _The Safe Side_\n\nREPORTER\u2014Were you quoted correctly in that interview in the morning\npapers?\n\nSENATOR\u2014Come around the day after tomorrow. How can I tell until I see\nhow the interview is going to be taken?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                             _An Inference_\n\n\u201cMy wife and I have lived happily together for twenty-five years.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, tell me, old fellow\u2014in confidence, of course\u2014which one of you has\nhad the other bluffed all this time?\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                           _The Constitution_\n\n                        BY FREDERICK UPHAM ADAMS\n  _Author of \u201cThe Kidnapped Millionaires,\u201d \u201cColonel Monroe\u2019s Doctrine,\u201d\n         \u201cPresident John Smith,\u201d \u201cShades of the Fathers,\u201d etc._\n\n\nThe practical man values a house not by its antiquity, but by its\nconformability to modern standards of construction and equipment. If he\npurchases an ancient structure he is not required to pay an added price\nbecause of its lack of plumbing, its absence of gas and electric lighting\nfixtures, and he is not entranced that its roof leaks and that its cellar\nis damp and moldy.\n\nThis same man, if he gives the subject a passing thought, will likely\nassure you that the Constitution of the United States is a perfect\ndocument because it is more than one hundred years old. It also is\nlikely that this is the extent of his information concerning that famous\ndocument.\n\nThe average lack of knowledge concerning our National Constitution is\nastounding. Like children who have been drilled to repeat the Lord\u2019s\nPrayer without the faintest conception of what the petition means, we\nhave mentally drilled ourselves to believe that our Constitution is\nperfect, that it was inspired by a superhuman wisdom, and that it is\ntreason to criticize or even discuss its infallible precepts.\n\nIn this respect we are the most narrow, bigoted and prejudiced people who\npretend to keep in alignment with progress. For more than one hundred\nyears we have been proclaiming the perfection of our free governmental\ninstitutions, and calling on other nations to admire us and to follow our\nexample.\n\nWithin the past few years the truth has been forced home on us that\nthe officialdom of our townships, villages, cities, counties, states\nand of the nation is maggoty with corruption; that our local, state\nand national legislatures are openly controlled by mercenary private\ninterests; that the scandals concerning our judiciary can no longer\nbe smothered or concealed; that our citizens are powerless to pass\nlaws demanded by the majority, or to defeat those aimed to despoil the\nmajority; that the burdens of taxation are spurned by those who have\namassed wealth by means of unfair and ofttimes purchased legislation, and\nthat the domination of corporations and vested interests is so complete\nas to be apparent to the dullest of the plundered.\n\nThis language is not exaggerated. It is impossible to overstate the\nenormity of the depth to which we have descended in the scale of\npolitical morals. Ten years ago any one of the disclosures which now\nare made from week to week would have aroused the nation; today the\nrepetition of these horrors dazes those who attempt to keep track of\nthem. Not one crime in a hundred ever sees the light in printer\u2019s ink.\nThe bigger thieves are so buttressed and protected by the fortifications\nof wealth, and so secure behind the barbed wire entanglements woven by\nthe courts, that their enraged dupes cannot reach them.\n\nGreat Britain is a republic in all save name, yet no such conditions\nprevail under its government. France is a republic, yet its people are\nnot despoiled by official brigands, neither is the free expression of its\nelectorate crushed beneath the massed weight of its moneyed interests.\n\nI count it a disgrace to be an American so long as these degrading\nconditions prevail. It is a dishonor to live in a city, community, state\nor nation where thievery is condoned or tolerated, and it is cowardly\nweakness for the honest majority to assume that the problem of corruption\nis past their solving.\n\nThe most formidable barrier in the way of permanent redress has been\nerected and is maintained by those who are checked by it. It consists\nof the absurd assumption that our material prosperity has been the\nconsequence of the perfect provisions of our National Constitution.\nIt is manifested in the senseless worship of the forefathers, and the\nignorant deification of the founders of the document, which for more than\na hundred years has served as a model for our state, municipal and local\ngovernments.\n\nWe have come to recognize the hopelessness of honest majorities when\npitted against the machinery of our municipal governments; we no longer\ndeny that the cumbersome machinery of our state governments lends itself\nto the manipulation of corrupt private interests; the suspicion has\ndawned on us that our National Congress is more concerned with thwarting\npublic sentiment than in conforming to it; and despite all this knowledge\nwe steadfastly refuse to direct our gaze to the prime cause of these\nabuses.\n\nWith a hundred monopolies filching from us that which we have created\u2014and\ndoing it under the guise of law and by sanction of the Constitution;\nwith legislatures, executives and courts scorning to put into operation\nthose remedies for which we have legally voted\u2014and declining to do so\nunder the authority of the Constitution; with a system of taxation which\nplaces all the burdens on those who are poor because they are producers\nof wealth, and releasing from taxation those who have become rich\nbecause of their exploitation of labor and through the debauching of its\nrepresentatives\u2014this system being founded on constitutional decisions\u2014we\nyet cling to the childish delusion that ours is the only perfect\ngovernment ever bequeathed to mankind.\n\nCompared with the governments of England and France we have only the\nsemblance of self-rule, while they possess the substance. The people of\nGermany have more direct influence over legislation than have those of\nthe United States. Despite an autocratic emperor, surrounded as he is\nby a nobility and protected by the most powerful standing army in the\nworld, the people of Germany have made greater progress along the road of\ndemocracy within the last twenty years than we have.\n\nIf in England there is valid reason to believe that the majority of the\npeople hold an opinion counter to that of the administration in power,\nParliament is dissolved and a direct appeal is made to the voters for a\nnew body of representatives. The new Parliament meets and proceeds to\npass the laws demanded by the electorate. There is a House of Lords, but\nit does not dare reject a measure known to be popular. There is a king,\nbut he has not exercised his veto power for more than a century and a\nhalf, and one need not be a prophet to hazard that he never will exercise\nit again. There is no supreme court in England. In that benighted\nmonarchy when the people pass a law it is a law, and not a guess.\n\nTo all intents and purposes the same procedure obtains in France and in a\nscore of other countries which might be named. Ours is the only country\non earth where the vote of a citizen has no direct significance.\n\nWe are not permitted to vote for a President, but are allowed to help\nchoose electors who represent not us, but the state. There is no such\nthing as a citizen of the United States, so far as the franchise is\nconcerned. If you have a vote it is by grace of the state in which you\nreside. The Constitution does not recognize your individual sovereignty\nin any way. If you doubt this assertion read that document.\n\nThe state fixes your qualifications as a voter. It might debar you\nbecause of your sex, because of your height, because you were not worth\n$100,000, and you would have no redress under the Constitution of the\nUnited States. Possibly you did not know this.\n\nIn practice you are privileged to vote for members of the Lower House\nof Congress. That is the beginning and the end of your influence so far\nas your national government is concerned. You have nothing to do with\nthe selection of senators, and I doubt if you are consulted as to the\ncomposition of the Supreme Court.\n\nAs I have explained, if the Lower House of the Legislature in England\npasses a law, it at once becomes a law. Under our Constitution the\nSenate has the power to amend or defeat it. This is supposed by us to\nbe the quintessence of all earthly legislative wisdom. This is Check\nNumber One on the mandate of the foolish people. In passing, I desire to\nrepeat that this is the only alleged republic or constitutional monarchy\nyet remaining on earth which assumes that its majorities are unfit to\ninfluence legislation.\n\nIf the measure demanded by the people be so fortunate as to pass the\nHouse and Senate, the President may veto it. This is Check Number Two on\nthe mandate of the foolish people. If the President sign the measure the\nSupreme Court may declare it unconstitutional, and that is the end of it,\nunless a subsequent infallible Supreme Court should overrule the decision\nof the first infallible Supreme Court. This is Check Number Three on\nthe mandate of a free and enlightened people. In the event that the\nSupreme Court should decide that a law is a law, the financial interests\nadversely affected may and do defeat its enforcement by legal quibbles as\nto details, or may and do resort to the bribery of the officials charged\nwith the execution of the law. These are Checks Numbers Four and Five\non the will of the people in this, the one perfect system of popular\ngovernment ever designed in all history.\n\nWe are the most corrupt nation on earth because of \u201cour peculiar\nform of Government\u201d; because of the exactions and limitations of a\nConstitution which was designed to protect and conserve the interests\nof property rather than of citizenship. Those who are astounded or\noffended at this statement need only read the record of the convention\nwhich drafted the Constitution in order to satisfy themselves as to its\nmoderation. I do not mean to insinuate that the fifty-five delegates\nwho met in Philadelphia in 1787 had any idea of establishing a system\nwhich would foster corruption, but the records absolutely prove that\nthey deliberately planned to suppress the rule of the majority in order\nthat popular clamor might not menace property interests. The train of\nabuses from which we now suffer flow logically from the checks they then\nprovided; checks which place selfish and corrupt wealth beyond the reach\nof public redress.\n\nThose foolish persons who have been taught in school and in the public\nprints that the founders of our Constitution were sincerely desirous\nof establishing a system of government in which the will of the people\nshould find free expression, will be shocked and undeceived when they\nread its debates and proceedings as recorded by James Madison, one of\nthe delegates from Virginia. When one comes to learn of these fifty-five\ndelegates that not more than ten are on record as voicing the slightest\ndegree of confidence in the wisdom of the people or their fitness to\nrule, he is likely to take a new view of the Constitution framed by them,\nand he is able to account for the innumerable ills which we are compelled\nto suffer.\n\nI will quote a few expressions of opinion from delegates who wielded the\ngreater influence in the construction of the Constitution:\n\n_Roger Sherman_\u2014\u201cThe people should have as little to do as may be about\nthe Government.\u201d\n\n_Elbridge Gerry_\u2014\u201cThe evils we experience flow from an excess of\ndemocracy, the worst of all possible evils.\u201d\n\n_John Dickinson_\u2014\u201cA limited monarchy is one of the best governments in\nthe world.\u201d\n\n_Rufus King_\u2014\u201cIt is immaterial to the people by what government they are\npossessed, provided they be well employed.\u201d\n\n_Alexander Hamilton_\u2014\u201cThe British monarchy is the best government in\nthe world,\u201d and he doubted if anything short of it would do in America.\n\u201cTheir House of Lords is a most noble institution.\u201d\n\n_Alexander Hamilton_\u2014He acknowledged himself not to think favorably of\nrepublican government. \u201cInequality in property constitutes the great and\nfundamental distinction in society.\u201d\n\n_Gunning Bedford_\u2014\u201cAre we to act with greater purity than the rest of\nmankind? Our votes are actuated by interest and ambition.\u201d\n\n_Gouverneur Morris_\u2014\u201cThe Senate must have great personal property; it\nmust have the aristocratic spirit; it must love to lord it through pride.\nTo make it independent it should be for life. Property is the main object\nof society.\u201d\n\n_John Rutledge_\u2014\u201cProperty certainly is the principal object of society.\u201d\n\n_Pierce Butler_\u2014\u201cSlaves should have an equal representation in a\ngovernment which is instituted principally for the protection of\nproperty, and is of itself to be supported by property.\u201d\n\n_Charles C. Pinckney_\u2014\u201cProperty in slaves should not be exposed to danger\nin a government instituted for the protection of property.\u201d\n\n_George Mason_\u2014\u201cIt would be as unnatural to refer the choice of a proper\ncharacter for President to the people as to refer a test of colors to a\nblind man.\u201d\n\n_James Madison_\u2014\u201cIn future times a great majority of the people will not\nonly be without landed but any sort of property. If they combine, the\nrights of property will not be safe in their hands.\u201d\n\n_James Ellsworth_\u2014\u201cAs population grows, poor laborers will be so plenty\nas to render slaves useless.\u201d\n\nThe thirteen delegates, from whom I have quoted were the dominating\ncharacters in that convention, and it is possible to cite innumerable\npassages expressing the same distrust and contempt for the people.\nIt should be understood that the great mass of the people had no\nrepresentation in that secret conclave, and that half a century passed\nbefore its proceedings were made public by Act of Congress.\n\nI have touched on these facts for the purpose of indicating clearly that\nthe right to ignore the majority is inherent in the Constitution. The\nSenate was provided for the special benefit of property interests, and\nat one time a clause was adopted, decreeing that no one could be elected\na Senator of the United States unless he was worth $50,000 or more.\nThis cautious provision was abandoned because there were states which\nhad no men with that amount of property. Having provided a Senate they\ncontinued to pile up checks against the people, until such aristocrats as\nGerry, Randolph and Mason attempted to call a halt, declaring that the\npeople would be so stripped of power that the last of their rights would\ndisappear. Their warnings were disregarded, and they absolutely refused\nto sign their names to the document.\n\nWith these facts within access of every citizen of the United States, the\nvast majority of us still adhere to the myths and falsehoods contained in\nour school books and uttered by ignorant demagogues and editors.\n\nIt is likely that the aristocratic delegates who framed the Constitution\nhad just reason to fear the people it was intended to hold in check. The\naverage citizen of 1787 was a savage compared with the average voter of\ntoday. He knew of no world beyond the narrow limit of his horizon. He\nwas ignorant, prejudiced, suspicious and envious. The builders of the\nConstitution regretted that it was necessary to grant him even the shadow\nof political power and were consumed by the dread that the Lower House of\nCongress would overawe all other branches of the new government.\n\nIn that day wealth had little influence as a mass, but it was strong\nin its instinct of self-preservation. It trembled lest the poor should\ncombine at the polls in a crusade for the legal despoiling of the rich.\nHaving absolute control of the convention it was free to design a\ndocument which would include every possible check against the aggressions\nof the dreaded masses, and it rightly conjectured that the magic of the\nname of Washington would induce the people to consent to the provisions\naimed against them.\n\nWe of today are caught in the trap set for those who lived more than a\nhundred years ago. Not until after the nation had been plunged into a\ncivil war between two factions\u2014each of which claimed strict allegiance\nto the Constitution\u2014did conditions arise which afforded a fair test of\nthe restrictive features of that document. So long as the wealth of the\nnation was so distributed as to prevent the formation of conspiracies in\nits behalf, the masses were able to conserve their rights, despite all\nof the checks and restrictions in the Constitution. It was this fairly\nmaintained state of equilibrium which half a century ago gave rise to the\nworship of our system of government.\n\nWhen the first unscrupulous man found himself in possession of millions\nof dollars the Constitution became not his master but his tool. When the\nofficials of our first great corporation found it practical to bribe\nlegislation, the trap set by the forefathers was sprung. I do not mean\nto hint that the founders of the Constitution foresaw any such outcome.\nThey constructed a device to protect themselves, and their bones had\ncrumbled into dust before wealth was sufficiently armed and equipped to\ntake advantage of their mistakes.\n\nWealth seized upon the senates, state and national. It found in the\njudiciary a natural ally, and it did not hesitate to invoke the aid of\npartisanship and the unblushing use of corrupt influences, direct and\nindirect, in order to subject the courts to its domination. This is a\nblunt statement, but the time has arrived when the courts can no longer\nbe covered with a machine-made robe of sanctity. There are good judges\nand bad judges, but the decisions of the latter are as binding as those\nof the former. A corporation judge is not a priest; he is a low type of\npolitician.\n\nOur aristocratic forefathers designed a Constitution intended to protect\nthemselves against a majority. Our modern corporations and vested\ninterests have discovered that the same machinery oiled with bribery\ncan be used by the minority for the purpose of plundering the majority.\nOur forefathers invented checks; our trusts have converted them into\nbludgeons. Our forefathers constructed constitutional ramparts, behind\nwhich they hoped to be safe from the attacks of the majority; our vested\ninterests have bristled them with guns, behind which they demand and\nreceive tribute.\n\n        NOTE\u2014In the May number Mr. Adams will treat of the\n      necessity for the revision of the Constitution, and\n      consider how it may legally be accomplished.\n\n\n\n\n                              _In Absence_\n\n                           BY EUGENE C. DOLSON\n\n\n    With miles between us\u2014miles of land and sea,\n    However far my wandering footsteps roam,\n    Still memory ever backward turns to thee\u2014\n    Queen of my heart and home.\n\n\n\n\n                              _In Outline_\n\n\n\u201cMany a man complains that he lost his health in business, although he\nwas not in business for his health.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThe quickest way to get to the top in this world is to have someone let\nyou in on the ground floor.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cMoney often fails to bring happiness, on account of the way it has been\nmade.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThe world may owe you a living, but you have to work hard to collect the\ndebt.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cOne-half the world doesn\u2019t care how the other half lives.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThe man who courts an investigation has generally been making love to\nother people\u2019s money.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                              _Not Guilty_\n\nTAVERN LOUNGER\u2014That \u2019ere smooth-shaved, horse-faced feller jest goin\u2019\ninto the dinin\u2019-room looks like an actor.\n\nLANDLORD\u2014Yes; but you bet yer life he ain\u2019t one! He came day before\nyesterday, paid his bill in advance, and ain\u2019t kicked about anything yet!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                              _A Discovery_\n\n\u201cI have looked the matter over with reasonable care,\u201d said the Pruntytown\nPhilosopher, with his usual acridity, \u201cand I have reached the conclusion\nthat it is not absolutely necessary to send boys to college in order to\nhave \u2019em act the fool.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                         _A One-Sided Alliance_\n\nJUDSON\u2014Do you think capital and labor will ever work together?\n\nBUDSON\u2014It looks that way. At the present time the landlord and the\ntenants seem to be both engaged in raising the rent.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                              _At the Zoo_\n\nTHE PARROT\u2014The eagle says he has been bald ever since he can remember.\n\nTHE COCKATOO\u2014Gee-whiz! Those eagles marry very young, don\u2019t they?\n\n\n\n\n                             _The Gray Weed_\n\n         AN EXTRACT FROM THE \u201cLONDON TIMES\u201d OF FEBRUARY 8, 1909\n\n                             BY OWEN OLIVER\n\n\nOwing to the lamented death of Professor Newton, to whose wisdom and\ncourage the world owes its deliverance, I have been asked to contribute\nto the first newspaper issued in the new era some account of the terrible\nweed which overran the earth, and threatened to stifle out mankind.\n\nThe professor had intended dealing with the origin of the weed, its\nrelations to ordinary plants, the nature of its growth, so far as\nthis proceeded, and the forms which it would ultimately have assumed.\nUnfortunately his notes upon these points are so abbreviated and\ntechnical as to be unintelligible to me; and personally I possess no\nqualifications for dealing with the scientific aspects of the case. So\nI must confine myself to a plain narrative of the occurrences which I\nwitnessed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was nine o\u2019clock in the evening of November 10, 1908, when I left my\noffice in Norfolk Street, letting myself out with a duplicate key which\nthe hall-porter had intrusted to me. I thought at first that it was\nsnowing; but when I put out my hand and caught a few of the particles, I\nfound that they were flimsy white seeds, something like those of melons,\nonly less substantial. Where they lay in heaps\u2014as I thought\u2014in the road,\ntheir color appeared to be gray. At the Embankment end of the street the\n\u201cheaps\u201d were larger; and when I came to them I discovered that they were\nnot seeds, but a growth of gray weed, which fastened round my shoes as I\ntried to walk over it.\n\nI stooped and took hold of a piece to examine it; but, when I attempted\nto pluck it, it stretched like elastic, without breaking off. The\ntendrils were round, and about one-fourth of an inch in diameter when not\nstretched. They had, at intervals, spherical bulges which, at a distance,\nbore the appearance of small berries. These appeared to be of the same\nsubstance as the tendrils. The latter began twining round my fingers,\nand I had some difficulty in releasing them. The road and the Embankment\nwere deserted by people, but three or four horses at the cab stand were\nplunging with fright as the weed wound round their legs. It had grown\nperceptibly in the few minutes that I had been observing it, and, feeling\nsomewhat alarmed, I made my way back along Norfolk Street.\n\nThe weed had spread a good deal there also; and I noticed that wherever\na white seed fell a fresh plant sprang up, and grew with marvelous\nrapidity. In the Strand the weed was nearly a yard high. The \u2019bus drivers\nwere whipping their frightened horses in a vain attempt to drive over it.\nThe foot-passengers were unable to move, except a big man, who, with a\nsmall axe, hacked a passage through the growth for himself, his wife and\nhis daughter\u2014a pretty girl of about nineteen.\n\nThey were making their way down to the Embankment, but I warned them\nthat the weed was thick there. The young lady then suggested that they\nshould try to get into one of the houses, and I invited them to come\nto my offices. The tendrils were seizing people and pulling them down\nand binding them like flies in a spider\u2019s web. We could hear cries and\nscreams all along the Strand, and a cab was upset by the struggles of the\nhorse. The weed had spread over Norfolk Street, while we were talking,\nand it clung to our feet as we ran. The lady tripped and fell. The\ntendrils seized her immediately, and we had great difficulty in freeing\nher. When we had entered the door of the house we could not close it\nuntil we had chopped away the tendrils that followed us.\n\nI turned on the electric light in the halls, and took my new friends to\nmy rooms, which were on the fifth floor. The elder lady was faint, and I\ngave her some brandy and soda and biscuits. I had a good stock of these\nfortunately.\n\nThe gentleman\u2019s name was George Baker, his wife was Marian Baker, and\nthe girl was Viva. They had been buying curiosities in the Strand, and\nthe axe\u2014a roughly engraved Moorish instrument\u2014was fortunately among\ntheir purchases. Some people whom they met in the streets had told them\nthat the weed was growing all over London, and that the Guards had been\nordered out to cut it away. A learned old gentleman had conjectured that\nthe seeds were the atoms of some dissipated planet, or the elements of\nsome world that was to be, and that they contained the raw elements of\nlife, which set them growing when they came into contact with suitable\nmatter.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s diabolical!\u201d Mr. Baker said furiously. \u201cThe vestries ought to send\nround water-carts with weed-killer, or\u2014or something. I don\u2019t know what\nthey ought to do; but they ought to do something.\u201d He wiped his face\nexcitedly with his handkerchief. \u201cDiabolical!\u201d he repeated. \u201cIt grows\nthrough the flagstones, the wood paving, everything. It\u2014it seizes people!\u201d\n\n\u201cSeizes people!\u201d his wife repeated, wringing her hands. \u201cWe saw it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt clings to you,\u201d the girl added tremulously. \u201c_Clings_ to you. If it\ngoes on growing\u2014\u2014!\u201d\n\nHer mother gave a sharp scream, and her father groaned.\n\n\u201cIf it goes on growing\u2014!\u201d they said together.\n\n\u201cIt won\u2019t,\u201d I assured them, with an indifferent appearance of confidence.\n\u201cThose things that grow like\u2014like fungi\u2014never do. It will shrivel up\nsuddenly, and let people go again. I don\u2019t suppose they\u2019re really\nhurt, only frightened. In an hour or so you\u2019ll be on your way home,\nand laughing about it; and I shall be thanking the\u2014the fungus\u2014for some\npleasant acquaintances. I look upon this as a little surprise party.\u201d\n\nThe girl wiped her eyes and forced a smile.\n\n\u201cA little surprise party,\u201d she agreed. \u201cWhat are you going to do for our\nentertainment, Mr. Adamson?\u2014I saw the name on the door-plate.\u201d\n\n\u201cHenry Adamson,\u201d I said, \u201cand very much at your service, Miss Viva\u2014I have\nsome cards, but\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI paused doubtfully. Her mother held up a trembling hand, and her father\nshook his head.\n\n\u201cWe won\u2019t have any fool\u2019s games,\u201d he said. \u201cLet\u2019s talk.\u201d\n\nViva and I talked in broken sentences, and her mother and father in\nmonosyllables. We kept glancing at the window, but no one had the courage\nto draw up the blind for nearly an hour. Then we opened the window and\nlooked out. The weed was fully six feet high in the street, and higher in\nthe Strand. It had overrun the \u2019bus that stood at the opening. If there\nwere people on the \u2019bus, it had overrun them, too.\n\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t seem to hurt,\u201d I said. \u201cThere\u2019s no screaming now.\u201d I\nshuddered as soon as I had said it.\n\n\u201cThere is no screaming now,\u201d Viva repeated. \u201cI suppose they\u2014they are\nall\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHer voice broke. Her father shut the window sharply and drew her away.\n\n\u201cIt will be gone in the morning,\u201d he asserted, \u201cas\u2014as our friend said. We\nshall have to impose on your hospitality for the night, I am afraid, Mr.\nAdamson.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no question of imposing,\u201d I assured him. \u201cI cannot say how\nglad I am to have your company.\u201d\n\nWe made a couch for the ladies by putting several hearth-rugs on the\ntable in the clerks\u2019 room, and laying two rugs of mine to cover them. Mr.\nBaker and I dozed in front of the fire in my room in chairs. Toward the\nmorning I fell into a sounder sleep. When I woke he had pulled up the\nblind.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s fifteen feet high at least,\u201d he told me. \u201cHalfway up the second\nwindows. God help us!\u201d\n\nI joined him and saw the roadway filled with a sea of gray weeds. They\nlooked like india-rubber reeds. The largest were as thick as my little\nfinger, and the bulges were the size of damsons. We opened the window\nand listened. Presently a caretaker opened a window nearly opposite and\ncalled to his wife.\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s a rum go, Mary,\u201d he shouted, with a laugh. \u201cBulrushes growing to\nthe street! We sha\u2019n\u2019t have any clerks pestering us today.\u201d\n\nThe woman joined him, and they laughed together because they would have\na holiday. They treated the matter as a joke, and evidently disbelieved\nus when we told them of the terrible events of the preceding night.\nSo we closed the window and called the ladies. I made some tea on my\nring-burner, and we breakfasted on that and biscuits. The ladies avoided\nthe window, and so did I, but Mr. Baker went to it every few minutes.\nAfter each visit he whispered to me that it was still growing. Mrs.\nBaker seemed in a stupor, but Viva tried hard to cheer us. She sang\nlittle snatches of song under her breath as she washed the tea-cups; and\nonce she said that it was great \u201cfun.\u201d Her mouth trembled when I looked\nreproachfully at her.\n\n\u201cMother is so nervous,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI have to pretend, to cheer her.\nDo you think it will\u2014grow?\u201d\n\n\u201cHeaven knows!\u201d I said. \u201cBut you are very brave.\u201d\n\nAfter this, she and I sat at the window, watching the tendrils growing\nand growing, and clutching incessantly at the air. I thought, at first,\nthat they were swaying in the wind, but there was no breeze. Also there\nwas an indescribable air of purpose about their movement. A number of\nlong branches spread themselves over a window opposite. Their swaying\nceased, and they pressed on it steadily, till at last it broke with\na dull crash. Mrs. Baker fainted, and her husband lifted her on to\nthe sofa. Viva clung to my arm. The malicious tendrils broke down the\nwindow-frame, piece by piece, and spread slowly into the room, winding\nthemselves round the tables and chairs.\n\n\u201cIf anyone had been there,\u201d Viva cried hoarsely. \u201cIf\u2014if\u2014\u201d She looked at\nme. Her eyes were big with fright.\n\n\u201cThey must be doing something to stop it,\u201d I said\u2014\u201cthe\u2014the authorities.\nIf we could find out! I\u2019ll try the telephone.\u201d\n\nAfter several calls I obtained an answer. It was a girl\u2019s voice. Six\nof them had stayed all night in the exchange, she said. They were in\ncommunication with the police and the Government Offices. The soldiers\nhad been out since the previous evening, and had cut their passage from\nChelsea Barracks to Victoria Street, and along this almost to Westminster\nBridge. They had intended coming on to Whitehall and the Strand; but the\nstuff grew almost as quickly as it was cut down, and had overpowered\nmany of them. Over a hundred had been crushed to death by it, and they\nhad sent for gun-cotton to try and blow it up, as a last resort. It was\nknown, through the telegraph, that the weed had appeared all over England\nand on the Continent. It was also growing out of the sea. The English\nChannel was choked in places, and several vessels had been bound by the\nweed in sight of the coast. \u201cIt\u2019s alive!\u201d she wailed; \u201calive! Its eyes\nare watching us through the windows!\u201d (The bulges had the appearance of\neyes.)\n\nI was unable to obtain any further answers, although I tried the\ntelephone several times. By one o\u2019clock the third-story windows were\ncovered. The thickest tendrils were then nearly the diameter of a\nflorin, with the bulges the size and shape of exceedingly large plums.\nThe stems and bulges seemed to be of one homogeneous material. There\nwere no leaves or fruit or flowers at this time, but branches were\nbeginning to sprout from the main stems. There did not appear to be\nany communication between one stem and another; but, according to\nProfessor Newton\u2019s notes, this undoubtedly took place at the roots, which\ninterlaced so as to form a gigantic nervous system or brain.\n\nWe made another meal of tea and biscuits. Mrs. Baker seemed stupefied\nwith horror, and her husband was evidently overcome by his anxiety for\nher, and scarcely spoke. Viva and I tried to talk, but our voices broke\noff in the middle of words. We listened vainly for any explosions, and\nconcluded that the attempt at rescue had failed. By four o\u2019clock the\nweed was up to the window-sill. Mrs. Baker was in a prolonged faint. Her\nhusband sat beside her, with his head on his hand. He did not look up\nwhen I suggested carrying her out on the roof.\n\n\u201cThe cold would rouse her,\u201d he said. \u201cIt is best as it is. You\u2019re a good\nchap, I think. Do what you can for my little girl.\u201d\n\nI put on my overcoat, crammed the pockets with biscuits and a flask, and\npersuaded Viva to accompany me to the roof to look for a way of escape,\nfor us and for her parents. We never saw them again.\n\nSome people from neighboring houses were on the adjoining roofs\nalready, two old caretakers, a man and a lad. We saw about twenty more\non the roofs in other streets. Some of them were raving and singing.\nThe caretakers who had spoken to us in the morning flung their window\nopen. They were laughing as if they had been drinking. They brought two\npailfuls of boiling water and emptied it upon the weed. There was a soft\nhissing sound. Then two\u2014four\u2014six quivering tendrils reached slowly toward\nthem. The man and woman seemed fascinated. They did not attempt to move,\nonly screamed. The tendrils seized them; bound them round and round. Viva\nburied her head on my shoulder, and I shut my eyes. It was about half a\nminute, I think, before the screams ceased. Then there was crash after\ncrash as windows were broken in. The weed had its passions, it seemed.\n\n\u201cTake me back to my mother and father,\u201d Viva begged. \u201cWe can all die\ntogether\u2014if you would rather die with us?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. I would rather die with you, Viva,\u201d I said. \u201cI should have liked\nyou very much if we had lived.\u201d\n\nWe returned to the trap-door, but the staircase was choked with the weed.\nAs we looked down it seemed to be a pit of twirling gray snakes. We\ncalled to her mother and father, but there was no answer. Viva would have\nflung herself among the weed, but I held her and carried her back to the\nroof. The weed was beginning to crawl over the gutters. Long rope-like\nfilaments were surrounding the other people who were on the roofs. They\nhuddled together and did not attempt to escape. The tendrils overran them\nand bound them round and round. I think they had mostly fainted. There\nwas only one cry.\n\nThe tendrils lashed one another and fought over their prey. Their\nstruggles made a repulsive, \u201cscrooping\u201d noise\u2014a noise like the sound of\nstroking silk, only louder. There was also a sound of crunching bones.\n\nI did not notice the weed closing round us till Viva clutched my arm.\n\n\u201cHold me,\u201d she begged. \u201cHold me tight! I thought life had only just\nbegun\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI supported her on one arm, and backed toward the Strand end of the roof,\nwhere the weed had encroached less. We stumbled against a skylight. The\nattic below was empty. I opened the frame, lowered Viva and jumped down\nafter her. We crouched in a corner watching the window. One\u2014two minutes\npassed. Then the gray weed, with the bulges that simulated eyes, pressed\nupon it. The glass shivered upon the floor. I lifted Viva in my arms\u2014she\nwas too faint to walk\u2014and carried her out on the landing.\n\nThe light was bad, and I saw no weed till we reached the next landing.\nThen it stretched toward us from the broken window-frame. A dozen gray\nropes crept toward us from the stairs when we approached them. The lift\nwas standing open. I pushed Viva in, jumped after her, slid the steel\nrailing to and lowered us. A tendril caught at the lift as we started. I\nheard it snap.\n\nIn my excitement I lowered the lift too fast. We were thrown against the\nsides and almost stunned when it stopped. There was barely a glimmer of\nlight, and we did not know if we had reached the bottom of the shaft or\nhad been stopped by the weed. We listened for a long while and heard\nnothing. Then we let ourselves out and advanced a few inches at a time,\nfeeling round us with our hands. We seemed to be in the hall of the\nbasement. We came upon a table and found a tray on it with biscuits and\nmilk. We drank the milk and Viva stuffed the biscuits in her pockets,\nas mine were full. There was a dim, barely perceptible light from an\narea window. We peered up through the grating into the forest of huge\nweeds. The trunks, which had grown to the size of young elms, only swayed\na little; but the branches above twisted and twined incessantly. Viva\nshuddered when she saw them, and I took her away.\n\n\u201cWe are safe down here,\u201d I assured her; but she pressed her hand over my\nmouth.\n\n\u201cHush!\u201d she whispered. \u201cHush! It may hear.\u201d\n\nWe wandered about in the darkness till we found a caretaker\u2019s room. We\nsat there on a sofa, holding hands. We never lost touch of each other all\nthe time. I do not know how long it was. It seemed years. The basement\nwas very quiet, but the sound of the india-rubbery motion came down\nto us. Once or twice we thought we heard a human cry. Once a mouse\nsqueaked, and a spider dropped on the couch beside us with a thud. We\nwere always listening.\n\nAfter an unknown time we groped our way into the scullery to get water.\nWe had just drunk when we heard the sound of india-rubbery tentacles\ndragging themselves over the walls. Something clung to my hand. Something\nheld her skirt. It tore as I pulled her from it. Something was in the way\nwhen we tried to close the door. It followed us across the room and into\nthe passage. We felt along the walls for the door that we thought led to\nthe cellars\u2014found it\u2014fastened it after us\u2014groped down the stairs. It was\ndarker than the darkness of the basement above\u2014darkness that could be\nfelt. We stumbled over some coals\u2014and a rough, hoarse voice came out of\nthe darkness.\n\n\u201cGive us your hand, guv\u2019nor,\u201d it said, \u201cjust a touch of your hand. I\u2019ve\nbeen alone here for\u2014for a thousand years!\u201d\n\nSomething staggered toward us\u2014stumbled against us; and a huge rough hand\ngripped my arm.\n\nI put myself between him and Viva and pressed her arm for silence. The\nvoice and grip were not reassuring, and I hoped he did not know she was\nthere.\n\n\u201cHere is my hand,\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cAnd mine,\u201d said Viva eagerly. \u201cYou are a friend\u2014of course you are a\nfriend. God bless you.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod bless you, lady.\u201d The rough voice softened strangely. \u201cI\u2014I\u2019m sorry\nto intrude.\u201d\n\nHe drew back a little way from us and sat down. I could not see him,\nbut I could hear him breathe. Another unknown time passed. Then Viva\nwhispered that she was thirsty.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a pail of water,\u201d the man said, \u201cif I can find it.\u201d He moved\nabout in the darkness till he kicked it. Then he brought it to us. We\ndrank from the pail and ate a few biscuits. I offered him some, but he\nsaid that he had a crust left. Viva and I explored the cellar and found\na shovel and a pick. I suggested that we should try to break through\ninto the next cellar, on the chance of finding food; but Viva and the man\nfeared that the weed might hear us.\n\nShe and I sat on an empty packing-case, and she laid her head on my\nshoulder and slept. After a time I slept too. The man woke us.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s something moving, guv\u2019nor,\u201d he said hoarsely. \u201cI think it\u2019s\ngrowing out of the floor. Strike a match, and give me the shovel.\u201d\n\nWe found forty or fifty weed plants growing. He beat some down with\nthe shovel, but others clutched him round the legs. He was a strong,\nrough-looking man and he fought furiously, but they pulled him down. I\ngave Viva the matches and went to his rescue with the pick. The weeds\nseized me too, but he cut us both free with a clasp-knife, and at length\nwe destroyed them all.\n\nWe saw by the matchlight that the wall was cracking in one place. So we\nresolved to try to get through it. The man dislodged a few bricks with\nthe pick, and we pulled others away till our fingers bled and the last\nmatch gave out. At length he managed to crawl through.\n\n\u201cYou come next, sir,\u201d he proposed. \u201cThe lady would be frightened of me.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear friend,\u201d Viva said, \u201cI am not in the least afraid of you.\u201d\n\nSo he helped her through, and I followed. We discovered a passage, and\nalong the passage another doorway\u2014and people. I do not remember our words\nwhen we found one another in the dark\u2014only the gladness of it.\n\nThere were about twenty of them\u2014men, women and children. They had food\nand drink which they had collected before they fled to the cellar.\nProfessor Newton was among them. He seemed acknowledged as their leader,\nand he proposed me as his second. He wanted the aid of an intelligent and\neducated man, he whispered, in fighting the weed.\n\n\u201cWe _must_ fight it,\u201d he declared, tapping me on the arm with his finger,\n\u201cbut I don\u2019t know how. I\u2014don\u2019t\u2014know\u2014how!\u2014I can\u2019t even guess what it\nis; still less what it is going to be. It may be mere vegetable life\u2014a\nman-eating plant. It may be brute animal life\u2014a _carnivorous_ animal!\nIt may be intelligent\u2014diabolical intelligence. Whatever it is, it will\ndevelop as it grows, develop new organs and new powers, new strength and\nnew weaknesses. We must strike _there_. What weaknesses? Ah-h! I don\u2019t\nknow! It may outgrow itself and wither. It may perish from the little\nmicrobes of the earth, like the Martians in Wells\u2019s romance. We thought\nthat an idle fancy _then_. It may grow into an intelligent\u2014devil! It\nmay be one now and merely lack the organs to carry out fully its evil\nwill. On the other hand, its malevolence may be purposeless\u2014a blind\nrestlessness that it will outgrow\u2014after we have stifled in the darkness\nat its feet. We must fight it anyhow. To fight it we must understand it.\nTo understand it we must study it. Will you risk your life with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d I said.\n\nViva cried softly when I told her I must go; but she did not try to keep\nme from my duty. The professor and I crawled up the stairs into the\nbasement, and finding nothing there went up in the lift in the dark. We\nheard the weed moving about on the second landing. I jumped out, turned\non the electric light, and jumped in again. The tendrils followed me and\nclutched at the steel curtain, but could not break it. We hacked with\nour pen-knives at those that crept through. The juice which ran out from\nthem had an oily smell. They beat furiously on the curtain. The professor\nstudied them calmly with a microscope. The bulges were the beginning of\neyes, he thought. He pronounced some feathery sprays sprouting from them\nto be the rudiments of organs like hands. I do not know whether he was\nright, but he always maintained that they would develop organs of sense.\nAnyhow the character of the weed was clearly changing. It had grown\nharder and drier, but without losing its flexibility or strength.\n\nAfter a time the professor decided that I should return to the others.\nHe went up again in the lift when he had lowered me. Viva was waiting for\nme in the dark just inside the door.\n\nI had obtained some candles. We lit one and stuck it in a bottle. I shall\nnever forget the group in the low, wide cellar, huddled together on boxes\nor on the floor. The man we met first was nursing an ailing child. Lady\nEvelyn Angell had gathered a young flower-girl under her opera cloak.\nA policeman was binding up a wounded hand with his handkerchief. A\nshivering old match-seller wore his cape. Viva took a little boy on her\nlap and told him about Jack and the Beanstalk. Steel\u2014a card sharper, I\nlearned afterward\u2014who had been indefatigable in helping everyone, was\nchatting to Lady Evelyn. Some ill-clad youths had draped themselves in\nsacking. A rouged and gaudily dressed woman was mothering some younger\nones. She had comforted Viva while I was away, I heard, and had offered\nto accompany her in a search for me, but the others had persuaded them\nthat they would only be a hindrance to us.\n\nAfter a couple of hours\u2014I had wound my watch again\u2014the professor\nreappeared. His clothes were torn and his face and hands were bleeding.\n\n\u201cThey broke the steel curtain at last,\u201d he explained, \u201cbut I got away.\nGood heavens, how it grows! I can\u2019t make up my mind about it.\u201d\n\nAfter a time, when most of us were dozing, a portion of the roof and\nthe wall fell in. The growth of the roots under the street had pressed\nthe earth upon it, the professor conjectured. A faint light streamed\ndown the tall weeds and through the opening. The branches overhead were\nstill moving, but the lower stems seemed inert. The professor decided to\nventure among them in search of knowledge. I went with him. There was\njust room enough between the weeds for us to pass.\n\nThe houses upon the other side of the street were all down. So were many\nin the Strand. In Fleet Street we saw the way it was done. The huge weeds\nleaned upon them, till they fell with a crash. The Law Courts went\nso. We found the clock among the weeds. Sometimes the branches pushed\nthemselves through the windows and walls of houses which were still\nstanding. Once or twice we heard human cries. We found a woman, with a\nbaby and a dog, walking among the weed-trees, and took them with us.\n\nThe light which straggled down through the waving branches overhead was\nfeeble and patchy, and we lost our way for a time. At length we found\nNorfolk Street; but as we were entering it, some of the tendrils, which\nseemed to be fighting one another viciously overhead, broke off and\ndropped at our feet. They writhed upon the ground like huge gray snakes,\nand wound themselves round the weed-trees and lashed out blindly. One of\nthem caught the woman and dashed her against a trunk. We pulled her away\nfrom the tendril as its violence lessened, but she was dead. The baby was\nnot hurt and still slept. I carried it in my arms.\n\nA moment later a broken tendril dropped right upon the dog. He howled\nloudly, and in his fright bit at an unbroken tendril hanging down among\nthe trees. (There were a good many such, but we had succeeded in avoiding\nthem hitherto.) It shook as if with rage and pain, wrapped its extremity\nround the dog, and bore him aloft, still howling. Hundreds of tendrils\nstretched toward it, and fought with it for the dog. They still fought\nafter his cries ceased; and other tendrils began reaching downward, in\nevery direction round us, as if searching for further prey. The professor\nwatched them intently, oblivious of danger.\n\n\u201cThey make a different sound now,\u201d he remarked abstractedly. \u201cIt is no\nlonger the scroop-scroop of clammy india-rubber\u2014they _rustle_. It doesn\u2019t\nseem like decay. They are stronger\u2014stronger. There is always weakness in\nexcess of anything\u2014even strength. Let me think!\u201d\n\n\u201cQuick!\u201d I cried. \u201cQuick! They are falling upon us. Run!\u201d\n\nWe dodged rapidly among the weed-trunks. He was slow and I pushed him.\nTendril after tendril rustled downward, and the trunks themselves swayed.\nTwo almost fixed the professor between them\u2014he was a stout man\u2014but I\ndragged him through. The light from above was entirely shut out by the\ndescending tendrils, and we must have been lost but for an electric lamp\nburning in one of the houses. As it was, the descending tendrils must\nhave caught us but for their struggles among themselves. Broken pieces\ndropped and wriggled madly all round us, and we had to dodge them. One\ncaught at my foot, and dragged my shoe off as I pulled myself away.\nSeveral touched us as we slid down the debris into the cellar. They\nfollowed us there.\n\nA few of the people screamed. A few fainted. The rest backed in a\nhuddled, wide-eyed crowd toward the farthest wall. Lady Evelyn stood in\nfront of the children, holding out her arms as if to shelter them. Steel\ncame and stood in front of her.\n\n\u201cDear lady,\u201d he said, \u201cthese have been the best days of my life\u2014since we\nmet. I should have been a better man if I had met you before.\u201d She smiled\nvery sweetly at him.\n\n\u201cI like you greatly, Mr. Steel,\u201d she said.\n\nThe rouged woman came and took the baby from me, and I tried to pull the\nprofessor back; but he would not come. Viva ran out from the crowd and\nput her arms round me. The tendrils drew nearer and nearer. Some came\nalong the ceiling, hanging their heads like snakes. Others crawled along\nthe floor, raising themselves as if to dart at us. I do not know whether\nthey saw us, heard us or smelt us, or how they knew where we were; but\nthey knew.\n\nThey were within a yard of the professor, and still he did not move; only\ntook the burning candle from the bottle, and railed at them as if they\ncould hear. I thought that he had gone mad.\n\n\u201cDo you think man has learned nothing in his thousand generations?\u201d he\nshouted. \u201cThat you can crush him with the brute strength of a few days?\nCome and see! Come and see!\u201d\n\nThe foremost tentacle wound round him; began to lift him. He felt it\ncarefully with his hands. \u201cIt is dry,\u201d he shouted\u2014\u201c_dry!_\u201d\n\n_Then he put the candle to it!_\n\nThere was a wilderness of white light. Then a purple darkness. I heard\nthe professor fall. When our eyes recovered from their dazed blindness\nthe weed was utterly gone. The daylight was streaming into the hole in\nthe wall, and the professor was picking himself up from the floor. His\nhair and beard were badly singed, and his eyebrows were gone.\n\n\u201cIt dried too fast,\u201d he told us, with a queer angry chuckle. \u201cThat was\nits weakness. It dried\u2014dried\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHe kept on repeating the word in a dull, aimless tone. The rest repeated\nit vacantly after him. Viva was the first to speak coherently\u2014a faint\nwhisper in my ear.\n\n\u201cMy dear!\u201d she said. \u201cMy _dear_!\u201d\n\nLady Evelyn spoke next\u2014to ex-card sharper Steel.\n\n\u201cThe world begins afresh,\u201d she said; \u201cand\u2014you _have_ met me, Mr. Steel.\u201d\n\nThe tears rolled down her cheek and his, and they stood smiling at each\nother.\n\n\u201cThe world begins afresh,\u201d the professor called in a loud voice. \u201cCome\nwith me and make it a better world.\u201d He strode toward the light, but some\nheld back.\n\n\u201cThe weed!\u201d they cried timorously.\n\n\u201cThe weed has gone\u2014burned in an instant, from the end of the world to the\nend of the world!\u201d he assured them. \u201cFollow me.\u201d\n\nWe followed him out of the darkness into the sunlight. It was a mild,\nbright day for November, and a pleasant air.\n\nThe weed had disappeared entirely, as the professor predicted; and,\nspeaking generally, the conflagration had been too sudden to do much\nharm; but most of the buildings had subsided upon the sudden destruction\nof the weed-roots which had undermined them. Here and there houses,\nstones and timber had caught fire; and in many districts the fire spread,\nand lasted for days.\n\nThe statistics, which are being prepared in the New Department for the\nService of the People, over which I have the honor to preside, are not\nyet quite complete; but I may mention that seventeen per cent. of the\nbuildings on the north of the Thames are found to have been destroyed,\nand ninety-three per cent. on the south\u2014the wind having blown mainly in\nthat direction; and that the destruction of property in Great Britain and\nIreland generally is roughly estimated at fifty-five per cent.\n\nThe adventures of our little band, after we came out from our\nhiding-place, scarcely belong to this story; but I must set down a few\nevents which stand out in red letters in our calendar of the world after\nthe Gray Weed.\n\nUpon the first afternoon we learned that there were other survivors\u2014which\nwe had not dared to hope\u2014by finding a man, woman and child nearly dead\nwith hunger and fright, hiding in a basement. We formed ourselves at once\ninto small parties to go round London, wherever houses yet stood, and\nrang the church bells, and blew trumpets, and beat drums, and shouted\nto all those who remained to come out. Here and there frightened groups\nof white-faced, famished, disheveled people answered the call. As our\nnumbers increased we sent parties to search the cellars and other\nhiding-places, and rescued many at their last gasp. The total number of\nsurvivors in London, where the percentage of deaths was highest, amounts\nto some 35,000.\n\nUpon the second day we obtained several replies to our calls by telegraph\nto the provinces; and the next day we were in telegraphic communication\nwith most parts of the United Kingdom and even the Continent. In almost\nall towns at least one or two persons had escaped. In some parts\nthe Gray Weed had left open spaces, or a few houses, to which people\ncould flee, and only a portion of those who reached them had died from\nstarvation. In a few instances it was alleged to have refrained from\ninjuring those with whom it came in contact. Also it failed to crush many\nof the ships which it seized at sea\u2014the sea-growths generally being less\nvirulent than those on land. So far as our statistics go at present, we\nhope that nearly one-eighth of the population of Europe has survived.\n\nOn the fourth day the first train from the provinces to London was run;\nand several ships, which the weed had overgrown without injuring, came\ninto port. After this, traffic was rapidly re-established.\n\nA fortnight later our present government was provisionally established.\nThe professor, whom all hailed as their deliverer, refused office\nhimself; but upon his nomination I was appointed to my present position.\nSeveral of our little band were assigned important posts, including\nSteel\u2014now known by another name, and married to Lady Evelyn\u2014and Viva, who\nis presiding over the London Homes for Orphans, until our marriage. The\nday after tomorrow a newspaper appears.\n\nWe have toiled unremittingly to reconstruct the social and commercial\nlife of the country, and not without success. We have few luxuries, but\nno wants; fewer workers, but no drones; fewer to love\u2014but we love more\u2014I\nthink the world will go well, now, because we love one another so much.\n\n\u201cThe Gray Weed has solved the problems of poverty, envy, crime and\nstrife, which have puzzled mankind for ages,\u201d the professor said, just\nbefore he died. \u201cDon\u2019t cry, little Viva. Ah! But I felt a tear on my\nhand! There is nothing to cry about, my child. _They_ have gone; and _I_\nam going; but _you_ have learned to love. It is all for the best!\u201d\n\n\u201cAll\u2014for\u2014the\u2014best,\u201d he repeated at the last, and smiled. That is his\nmessage to you to whom I write, dear friends.\n\n\n\n\n                        _With Caste Against Him_\n\n                            BY HUGH PENDEXTER\n\n\nTiberius Smith in love was a spectacle I had never conjured up. Billy\nCampbell, the strolling actor and his patron\u2019s Boswell, had pictured the\nold showman to me as being arrested for a spy in Russia, for a madman\nin France, for a too active Carlist in Spain and for smuggling opium in\nChina, but he had never hinted at sentiment. I had taken it for granted\nthat Smith\u2019s many wanderings over the face of the earth with his various\ntheatrical enterprises and circuses had eliminated any inclination for\nlove-sickness, and it seems it had until he met the lord\u2019s daughter.\n\nThat was like Smith. It was impossible to conceive of him as married and\nsettled down, and when he did fall in love it was his characteristic\nto indulge in a hopeless passion. For all that, the lord\u2019s daughter\nwas forced to see him at his best, sturdy and resourceful, when others\nfailed her, and I doubt not but that this knowledge was sadly sweet to\nthe old showman, and that in after years he enjoyed diagnosing the climax\nand realizing it was superbly dramatic. If she ignored his existence at\nfirst, he had the keen pleasure of knowing she had only him to rely on at\na most critical finale and that her world was better, much better, for\nhis having lived.\n\nPossibly the trick could have been turned without him, turned in a\nprosaic manner with some bloodshed and a great waste of gunpowder. But\nwhen a lovely girl is the stake, be she a lord\u2019s daughter or a queen\nfrom the masses, it is sometimes advisable to finesse. And Tiberius, if\nslightly melodramatic, solved the problem as he could only do, and as\nonly he could do\u2014that is, in an unusual manner. Campbell used to style\nhim the \u201cassassin of adversity,\u201d and his peculiar faculty of rescuing the\nweak from undesirable situations was, perhaps, never better demonstrated\nthan when, with cutter bars down, he restored the English girl to her\npeople and incidentally introduced the uses and abuses of modern farming\nimplements to some unsophisticated savages in a lonely Pacific isle.\n\nI had recurred to the time when Tiberius piloted an Uncle Tom\u2019s Cabin\ncompany up and down the land, and Billy, gazing sadly into my open grate,\nirrelevantly observed:\n\n\u201cYes; and that was when Tib ought to have won her and settled down. He\nwas clear daffy over that girl, and I\u2019ll admit she was a hummer; one,\nyou know, that would make a man abandon his grandmother in a blinding\nsnowstorm if it pleased her. But I reckon Fate had other work cut out for\nTiberius besides spooning, love in a cottage and no money for the iceman\nand all that sort of stuff. Yes, it was fully ten years ago that the\n_Kalanke_ broke her propeller.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are speaking of a boat?\u201d I inquired.\n\n\u201cLord bless you, yes. The _Kalanke_ was one of Lord Blam\u2019s boats; ran\nfrom the Coast to Australia. You see, Tib got the bee that an Uncle\nThomas show would take in Australia like four squaws in a no-limit\ngame; and once he had outlined the bill of fare, there were plenty of\nus come-ons pushing out our plates and begging for a helping. I suppose\nthat when it came to the realm of pure \u201ccon\u201d there wasn\u2019t a hypnotist\ndoing a mail order business that could lay it on quite so succulent and\nplausible as he. Lord, we _had_ to believe him. He believed in himself.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, Harriet,\u2019 he cried, drawing up his dear, fat old form and looking\nmore honest than any real estate dealer you ever kenned; \u2018why, Harriet,\ndon\u2019t linger over the paltry twelve dollars a week I\u2019m supposed to\npay you. Don\u2019t even hesitate. Forget that part of it. Imagine you are\npaying me for the chance to go. Picture, if you please, Opportunity,\nclean-shaven and bald-headed, gliding by your door in a seventy-eight\nhorse-power gasolene romp-about at the mirk hour of midnight with you\nchloroformed and locked in your gilded cage. Picture me with a jiu-jitsu\nstrangle hold on Oppo, detaining him until you can come to, slip into\nyour Horse Show gown and come down and relieve me. Then you are feasting\nyour magnetic orbs on truth. Why, the people down there will be so worked\nup over your \u201cPapa, dear papa, set Uncle Tom free,\u201d that they\u2019ll wreck\nyour hotel with showers of gold.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe was a slim, ingrowing woman, who always played the Little Eva parts\nand was the teariest thing ever between the wings. Clarence, her husband,\nbooked for Legree, balked a little and said he\u2019d stand a blankety,\nblank, all blanks, nice chance of getting his showers in lead after he\u2019d\nmassacred Thomas. But Tib poured a little balm into his wounds, and that\nwas how we came to hop the _Kalanke_ for Australia.\n\n\u201cThe boat was one of Lord Blam\u2019s new line and was fixed up regardless.\nBesides the passengers, she did quite a freight business and carried our\nlots of horses and farm implements. Our troupe traveled second class\nexcept Tib, who always went the limit\u2014or walked. Besides the company\nthere weren\u2019t many passengers aboard, as it was in the dull season; but\nwe hadn\u2019t cuffed the deep blue for more than two days before Tib met his\nfate.\n\n\u201cShe was the English girl, all blue eyes, and peaches for complexion;\nand Tib haunted her usual promenade like a mosquito. She was the lord\u2019s\nonly daughter and was making a flying trip to Sydney, where her father\nlay ill. She had hurried from Washington to \u2019Frisco and caught the boat\nwith her maid. The Captain was the rest of her bodyguard. But Tib had the\nCaptain solid at the go-in, and through him and his own gall he managed\nto speak to Miss Mary.\n\n\u201cShe was about as approachable as the Eiffel Tower. She was the first bit\nof peerage I had ever seen traveling alone, and I would prefer trying to\nget chummy with an iceberg to speaking to her. But a man or a woman had\nto be armor plate to withstand Tib when he put himself out, and at the\nend of one day he had made her laugh; then she got a bit interested in\nhim and I knew he was spinning romance.\n\n\u201cWhen he got to giving his Vermont family an old chateau environment\nand spoke of the good old days at \u2018The Oaks,\u2019 and his father\u2019s pack of\nhounds, aristocracy wanted to crawl into a safe deposit vault and slam\nthe door or get scalped. He could jam more poetry and _p\u00e2t\u00e9 de foie\ngras_ breeding into his round form and look more dreamy passion from his\npleading eyes than any man that ever made a house believe a bum show was\na good one. He was all right, I tell you, and if Little Eva hadn\u2019t butted\nin when we were doing things to the equator, and asked him to come down\nand play stud-poker in the smoking-room, I reckoned he\u2019d have won a few\nplighted troths anyway. I shall always believe he had her clinging to the\nropes when Eva made the fatal stab.\n\n\u201c\u2018Do you know those people in the second cabin?\u2019 demanded Her Lordship\nwith an eighty-two degrees north voice.\n\n\u201cTib groaned and tore his brown hair and admitted he owned us. \u2018The vase\nis broken,\u2019 he cried. \u2018I\u2019ve got the bell and it\u2019s back to the barriers.\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, he felt so bad over that girl that he almost wept. It wa\u2019n\u2019t her\ntitled papa, or the coat of arms; it was just a case of She. When he was\ntalking to her he forgot he was merely a showman. He believed all about\nthe old ivy-covered manse and the hounds. Why, I\u2019ve even heard him call\nthe pups by name. And his father never owned anything more blue-blooded\nthan a sheepdog.\n\n\u201c\u2018Billy,\u2019 he said to me as we smoked down aft, \u2018I never met a girl yet I\nfelt so soft over. I know I\u2019m older than she by some years, but I keep my\nage locked up in the baggage-room and we might have been happy if not for\nLittle Eva.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd Miss English was mad. She scolded the Captain for presenting Tib,\nand told him her father would do things once we\u2019d sighted old earth. And\nthe Captain was on the anxious seat, for her father was his meal ticket\nand had delegated him to fetch out his daughter O. K. But on the next\nnight we began to forget it, when we steamed into the heart of a flying\nwedge of terrific winds.\n\n\u201cI decided that if ever we got ashore it would be to have the folks come\ndown to the beach and look at us and say, \u2018How natural they look.\u2019 Some\nof the gingerbread works were carried away the first night of the blow,\nand whenever the wind let up a bit the live stock would throw in a few\n_ensembles_ that made one pray for more breeze. Yet the boat behaved\nwell, and if something hadn\u2019t happened to the propeller we\u2019d have come\nthrough in rare form. But when the chief engineer began to parade out his\nkit and try to mend things while standing on his head I knew the game was\ngetting serious. Now we were bumped by every billow, and I heard a petty\nofficer whisper that we were being driven far from our course.\n\n\u201cAt last the kick stopped, or else we\u2019d slipped out of the storm zone,\nand at about three o\u2019clock in the morning we dropped anchor near a dear\nlittle island that the Captain couldn\u2019t name with any great degree of\nexactness.\n\n\u201cThe anchorage was so good and the water so smooth that our engineer said\nit would be easy to take the boat to pieces and put it together without\nlosing even a shingle nail. Well, you can indulge in a small wager that\nwe were all up and happy when we came near enough to smell the land. The\nsky was clear and peppered over with incandescent lights, and Tib felt so\ngood that he waltzed up to the She Saxon and observed: \u2018I regret you have\nbeen inconvenienced by the storm.\u2019\n\n\u201cSay, she just turned and dragged her two sapphires up and down his\nanatomy as if he were a seven-leaf clover. Then she stabbed him four\ntimes with as many glances and turned and walked forward to the Captain.\nCap wheeled around with his lips pursed up to say something unwholesome,\nbut seeing who it was he swallowed it, and it hurt. Then she asked\nsomething in a low voice and he shook his head slowly. Then she stamped\nher hoof and he seemed to give way. At last he called a man to him and\ngave some orders. The next thing we knew a boat was dropped and she was\nbeing rowed ashore by four sailors.\n\n\u201c\u2018Isn\u2019t it rather dangerous to let the lady go ashore?\u2019 asked Tib of the\nCaptain.\n\n\u201cThis gave the Captain a fine chance to ease his mind, and he did it by\npouring out his whole heart to Tib in a comprehensive flow of profanity.\nHe cursed Tib up hill and down, but Tib was so round it all glanced off.\nCap told him that Miss Mary had gone ashore to get rid of his presence.\nTib shuddered. Then the Cap reminded him that a British skipper takes\nsass from no one except the owners, and ordered him back with the rest\nof us. Another gilt braid sneaked up and told Tib the Cap meant nothing,\nthat he was only feeling cross at being delayed. As to Miss Mary, he\nswore she was as safe when guarded by the four tars as she would be on\nher father\u2019s deck. Besides, the island was probably vacant, he added,\nand she would take a short stroll on the beach beneath the stars and\nthen return. But Tib was uneasy. He said no one could ever diagnose the\ndisposition of the average cut-up residing on an oceanian isle. \u2018Billy,\u2019\nhe concluded, \u2018I\u2019m cut to the heart. She won\u2019t even look at the same\nocean with me.\u2019\n\n\u201cIn about an hour\u2019s time, just as the sun was lazily crawling out of his\nbed of blue\u2014say, old chap, that sounds voluptuous as well as poetic,\ndoesn\u2019t it?\u2014well, as the sun appeared there came to our ears a loud cry\nfrom the beach, and we could see some dots bobbing up and down trying\nto act intelligent. In two jumps the Captain shot off in a boat, and,\nwithout seeming to touch land, was back again on the run.\n\n\u201cThe lord\u2019s daughter had been carried off by the natives, was the\nstartling intelligence he fed out to his officers. It seems she wanted\nto walk up a little hill and get a view of the sea, and, although the\nsailors protested, she had ordered them to remain behind; and, like\nidiots, they obeyed her. Then they heard a smothered scream and ran to\nthe rescue, only to meet with a shower of spears and clubs and to witness\na large band of barefooted taxpayers making off with the skirts. One of\nthe sailors had his arm broken, another had a spear through his shoulder,\nand all were badly bruised and battered. The Captain was crazy. He\nordered his men to arm and rush to the rescue. At first he was going to\nlead them, but some of his officers soothed him down a bit and made him\nsee his place was with the boat. It was not only necessary to rescue Miss\nMary, but the tub must be in condition to carry her away when she was\nrecovered.\n\n\u201cBut when Tib asked permission to join the posse the Captain broke loose\nagain and swore he\u2019d have the boss in irons. If it hadn\u2019t been for Tib\nit never would have happened, he cried. I chipped in then and reminded\nhim Her Lordship was too high and mighty to hunt for an exit just to\navoid a mere man, and I closed with the Stars and Stripes and our consul\nin Australia. This distracted his attention a bit, for he forgot Tib in\nswearing at our consular service.\n\n\u201c\u2018Billy,\u2019 groaned Tib, \u2018I guess the Cap is right, and I\u2019m to blame for\nher going ashore. But these volunteers will never get her by hunting the\nbrownies with a brass band.\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, we put in several long hours of waiting, and then two men returned\nand said reinforcements were needed, as the men had discovered a large\nvillage a few miles inland, which they didn\u2019t dare to attack alone.\n\n\u201c\u2018Guess you\u2019d better let some of the passengers chip into this game now,\u2019\nadvised Tib.\n\n\u201cThe Captain began to rave again, but, seeing that the men left were\nneeded in making repairs, he had to give in. Just then some more of the\ncrew came back to the beach and, once aboard, panted that the colored\nfolk were getting aggressive and wouldn\u2019t even wait to be attacked.\n\n\u201c\u2018To the boats, men!\u2019 cried the Captain, while the steward served out\nhowitzers.\n\n\u201cBefore the order could be obeyed the officers and the rest of the gang\nrushed down to the beach. Their news was worst of all. They said the\nheathens had produced Her Lordship in view of all and had threatened to\nkill her if her friends didn\u2019t beat a retreat.\n\n\u201c\u2018If we show violence she\u2019s lost,\u2019 sobbed one of the men.\n\n\u201cThe Captain was dazed. He was brave enough and would gladly fight to\nthe last gasp; but he didn\u2019t want to recover Miss Mary dead. He tried\nto mumble something about strategy, and Tib caught it. It was the\npsychological moment for him.\n\n\u201c\u2018If you\u2019ll turn the management of this show over to me I\u2019ll go and get\nher,\u2019 he said simply.\n\n\u201cSome jeered him in wild anger, some eyed him in amazement, and others\nwere ready to grasp at any suggestion.\n\n\u201c\u2018I mean it,\u2019 he repeated firmly, drawing up his fat form and beginning\nto radiate heart waves. \u2018Force will avail nothing, except to kill the\nlady. Do as I say and let the galleries back me and a few of my men, and\nI honestly believe we can turn the riffle.\u2019\n\n\u201cDiscipline was lost sight of as all clamored for pointers. \u2018Hoist up a\nfew mowing machines from the hold, drop twice as many horses over into\nthe surf, while the carpenters are knocking together a float. Then ferry\nthe grass clippers ashore and have your mechanics put them together.\nThat\u2019s the scenario.\u2019\n\n\u201cSome said he was crazy, but I believed he could fill his hand if they\nlet him alone, and the Captain asked if he intended to palm off the\nmowers as machine guns.\n\n\u201c\u2018If they can\u2019t recognize a mowing machine you don\u2019t expect \u2019em to be\nconversant with Maxims, do you?\u2019 groaned Tib. \u2018No; I\u2019ll play \u2019em as\nmowing machines and win out at that. I believe they\u2019ll be big medicine\nwith the natives.\u2019\n\n\u201cOf course the Captain pooh-poohed the scheme. He said the niggers would\nkill the lass before the paraphernalia could be thrown together.\n\n\u201c\u2018And while you\u2019re doing nothing and can think of nothing to do, they\nmay kill her,\u2019 cried Tib. \u2018And her blood be upon your head! Mine is the\nonly plan that\u2019s been advanced, and it is practical. It\u2019s unusual, but\nyou can\u2019t impress these folks with shotguns. It\u2019s got to be something\nnew in the way of scenic effect. If I had an airship I\u2019d use that. But I\nhaven\u2019t. We can use the mowing machines and stagger the banditti. We can\nstart in three hours if you\u2019ll only give the word. Besides, I shall want\nthe full chorus to follow with their batteries. You lose nothing, unless\nit be me and some of my friends and the machines.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hoist \u2019em up,\u2019 commanded the Captain, and the gang caught Tib\u2019s\nenthusiasm.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, who\u2019s game for a little romp?\u2019 asked Tib gently of us actors, his\nbrown eyes collecting in two needle points. \u2018I want my own men for the\nleading parts in this deal. Now, who\u2019s game?\u2019\n\n\u201cOf course I said I was, as I owed him poker money. Little Eva\u2019s husband\nsaid if he could have one more drink he\u2019d play tag with the devil, and\nUncle Tom was on if he didn\u2019t have to black up. Tib wanted one more\noperator, and a young fellow that was coming out to hold down a stool in\nhis father\u2019s branch house in Sydney agreed to chip in if he could have\ntime to write something sad to his parents. Tib reminded him the postman\nwouldn\u2019t have time to collect the mail before we returned, and so the\nfive of us made ready. The Captain ached to go, but Tib reminded him he\nmust take command of the rear-guard.\n\n\u201cI was for grabbing up a papaw root and dashing blindly into the weeds,\nbut Tib held us all back as he outlined his scheme more fully. The mowing\nmachines would dazzle the natives, he contended, and while he and his\nmen were trifling with the aborigines\u2019 superstitions the Captain and\nhis bullies were to rush in, surround the captive, or else cover Tib\u2019s\nretreat, once he had rescued her. And say! You never saw men work as did\nthose boys on the _Kalanke_. The donkey engine was mounted in a trice and\nthe big crates, containing the mowing machines, intended for peaceful\npastoral scenes, were yanked out on deck. By that time the carpenters\nhad put a raft together and the clippers were soon ashore with a bevy of\nmechanics impatiently waiting to get in their work. When the different\nparts of the machines had been assembled and joined each to his neighbor,\nsome half-crazed draft horses came through the surf and were promptly\ncaught. Then boxes of harness were ripped open, and there we were, as gay\na cluster of charioteers as you would meet with outside a star production\nof \u2018Ben Hur.\u2019\n\n\u201cTib, as the head Mazeppa, jumped onto the first auto completed and\ntested the gearing. Then with his hat tipped jauntily over his right ear\nhe reminded the Captain that the crew should loiter not too far in the\nrear, but always out of sight of the enemy, until we gave the signal to\nadvance, three pistol shots. Then he cried, \u2018Cutter bars up!\u2019 and away we\nclanked around the base of the low hill.\n\n\u201cWe had received tips as to the course to take, and it would\nhave done your heart good, sir, could you have seen us in that\nbringing-in-the-sheaves effect. We only needed wide-brimmed straw hats,\nwith handkerchiefs knotted carelessly about our throats, to be the\nvillage heroes in the average rural melodrama.\n\n\u201cThe land, lucky for us, lay flat and hard baked by the sun, once we\nwere around the hill. Then Tib\u2019s good sense in picking his own men was\ndemonstrated. Always in the lead as we trundled over the hard ground,\nhe had only to move his hand to cause us to catch the signal and obey.\nBack of us, scuttling through the occasional brush, was our bodyguard,\nand the glint of the sun on the gun metal was a wonderful antidote for\nhomesickness. In advance a fringe of woods told where the English girl\nwas held captive. We expected to encounter outposts, but I reckon the foe\nmeasured our love for a woman by their own standard and couldn\u2019t conceive\nof a man risking his life to save a squaw.\n\n\u201cAt last we struck the shade and sure enough found a broad avenue between\nthe trees, just as the boatswain had mapped out. Then came another level\nstretch, only not so long as the first, bounded by a slight rise. It was\njust beyond this that the village was located. We approached as slyly\nas we could and cautiously gained the top without being interrupted.\nJust below us was the encampment, consisting of several scores of low\nhuts. They were arranged like the spokes of a wheel, with broad streets\nradiating from the centre. The voters were having a big powwow, and they\nmade so much noise that they had failed to catch the sound of our steeds\nor wheels.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, children, list,\u2019 commanded Tib. \u2018I\u2019m going to drive straight\nahead. Billy will wend his way to the right and pick up the first spoor,\nfollowed by Simon Legree, who takes the second trail. Uncle Tom takes\nthe first left aisle, followed by young Add Six and Carry Two. And we\u2019ll\nform a cluster, God willing, in the centre of the exposition, where there\nseems to be a commodious green. Attention! Cutter bars down! Forward,\ntrot!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd we five chauffeurs dashed into the hippodrome in the most ridiculous\nfashion. Tib bounced up and down like a rubber ball, and to fall\nfrom the seat meant a badly sliced up white man. But the effect was\nstupendous. I reckon the brunettes never before gazed on such wags as\nwe must have appeared to be. Bang! Smash! we rode through their rotten\nvillage, and the machines needed oiling. Of all the rasping, clattering\nnoises you ever heard, sir! Black nightmares rushed to get out of the way\nas we cleaned out the lanes.\n\n\u201cSnip! snip! and Tib had shaved off the corner of a mud villa. Crunch!\nand Simon picked up a totem pole. Every tooth in those five cutter bars\nwas working and the collateral we chewed up didn\u2019t do \u2019em a bit of good.\nBut, as Tib said, it was only a one-night stand and our game was to\nsell tickets and ramble away. So on we careened, the horses wild with\nfright, now and then the shears picking up a brown toe as some devotee\nfell prostrate in his flight and babbled a cast-iron prayer to some\nburglar-proof god. It simply swept them off their feet, sir. Before they\nwoke up we had entered the middle square.\n\n\u201cAnd if there wasn\u2019t Her Lordship, trussed up between two poles, white as\ndeath!\n\n\u201c\u2018If you\u2019ll pardon the bucolic style of my turnout, dear lady, I should\nbe felicitated to have you accompany me back to the ship,\u2019 cried Tib\ncheerily as he slashed her free and held her so she would not fall. And\nduring it all he was apparently oblivious to the frescoes of black faces\nstaring in stupid awe in the background.\n\n\u201c\u2018Can it be I\u2019m saved!\u2019 she whimpered, brushing back her twenty-two-carat\nhair with an uncertain gesture.\n\n\u201c\u2018Tut, tut,\u2019 cried Tib heartily as he took her hand and tripped a merry\nmorris toward his chariot. \u2018I guess there\u2019s no danger. These people\nare simply crude in their deportment and evidently believed you some\nwandering goddess and would detain you awhile.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You are a brave and a good man,\u2019 she choked.\n\n\u201c\u2018I guess your hosts think me the devil. Excuse me, lady,\u2019 salaamed Tib.\n\n\u201c\u2018Never a man took greater risk,\u2019 she murmured.\n\n\u201c\u2018An Uncle Tom\u2019s Cabin company, lady, will take any risk, or anything\noutside a church,\u2019 replied Tib. \u2018Whoa, Montezuma. Now hop up here on my\nknee. These bronze pieces will come to their senses in a second.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd when Her Lordship jumped up into his arms the wonder-stricken gang\ngave a howl and came out of their trance. We countermarched in those\nrigs so that Tib had the lead when we quit the plaza, but not before one\nbig buck, attired in a war club and a workmanlike spear, gave a grunt of\ndisapproval and raised his trowel behind Tib\u2019s back. I had been expecting\none of them would draw to that card, and while his arm was pulled back I\npinked him from the hip, and the sunlight was turned off so far as he was\nconcerned. But they didn\u2019t mind crowding into hell so long as they could\nregain the woman, and my shot took the Japanese out of only one of them.\nAnd as we swarmed up the slight rise they came yowling along behind us,\ndisturbing the peace in a variety of ways. But just as Simon Legree fired\nthree shots in quick succession a fringe of strained-faced tars popped\nover the crest in front, preceded by the busy end of their repeaters.\nUnder cover of their diversion we gained the top and bounced down on the\nother side with the neighbors renewing their pursuit.\n\n\u201cJust as everything began to look cozy and homelike my pair of Jaspers\ndecided they were afraid of the ocean, and, hang me, if they didn\u2019t\nturn about and caper back right in the face of the dancing spearmen. I\ncouldn\u2019t hold \u2019em, and so I just dropped the cutter bar and pulled out my\njunk, only expecting to muss a few of \u2019em up before I was registered. My\nfriends began to howl behind me, and I tossed a glance over my shoulder\nand beheld old Tiberius coming along after me like a madman, his machine\njumping and swaying, and he with a big gun in each hand yelling like a\nfiend. He had tossed Her Lordship to the sailors and was back to play\nin my drama. Then the heat of it got into my blood, and as Tib drew up\nbeside me I gave a war cry and urged the brutes onward still faster.\n\n\u201cI knew if we tried to turn we were down and out, and that our only show\nwas to put up a bold front and scare the enemy off the ridge. The sailors\nwere now popping away merrily, and just as we had gone the limit the foe\nthrew up the sponge and scampered back down the other side of the rise.\n\n\u201cMaybe we were several hours retreating to the beach! When we got\nthere the whole bunch fell on Tib\u2019s neck and pawed his round form\naffectionately, the Captain leading in the demonstration. Tib drove\nthem away, but when we got aboard and Her Lordship rushed upon him and\nthrowing both arms about his neck, pressed her red lips with a resounding\nand most plebeian smack on his chin, you could have heard him blush. It\nwas the first time I had ever known him to lose his nerve. He made a\nclean break-away and bowing low said something in a murmur and it was all\nover. Of course she thanked us all, but she realized that Tib was the\nguiding light.\n\n\u201cTo ring off; we left the machines and horses for the natives to get up\nguessing parties with, and with our machinery repaired steamed out to\nthe open water. Tib never made any advances to Her Lordship after once\naboard, although she eyed him with a soft look whenever they met on deck\nduring the run to port.\n\n\u201c\u2018My old heart got foolish, boy,\u2019 he remarked to me the night we landed,\n\u2018but it\u2019s beating all right now.\u2019 Yet he always kept a handkerchief she\ndropped.\n\n\u201cAnd wherever the show played Tib coined money by the barrel, for\nHer Lordship\u2019s people boomed his game early and late. But Tib got to\nbelieving it was because the show was so good. For, you see, he\u2019d explain\nto me as he counted the receipts, \u2018Little Eva is dying better every\nnight.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                    _Corrupt Practices in Elections_\n\n                       BY HON. LUCIUS F. C. GARVIN\n                      _Ex-Governor of Rhode Island_\n\n\nEfforts to expose bribery and other corrupt practices in elections are\nmet with the cry, You are defaming the state! If there are governmental\nevils, we are told, prove them to the bottom and correct them quietly.\nSuch a course may be feasible if applied to a private business, but in\npublic affairs, in the nature of the case, it cannot be successful.\nCertainly none of the persons who directly profit by such practices will\ncorrect them\u2014not the \u201crespectable\u201d men of means who furnish the funds and\nwho do so with a view to recouping themselves in some way as a result\nof the election; not the workers who handle the corruption fund, taking\ngood care to see that they themselves are rewarded for the trouble and\nrisk involved; not the individuals who pocket the money disbursed, and\nin this way become always morally, and often criminally, confederates;\nnor, finally, the few who secure the offices through fraudulent methods.\nIn fact, nothing has been found effective outside of that strongest of\nall influences in a free country, the force of public opinion. The many,\nwho are made aware of the iniquity by suffering from it, have every\ninducement to end it.\n\nOver and over again, in great crises, the American people have shown\nthemselves to be patriotic, honest and wise. This has happened whenever\nthe masses have been aroused by serious threats of danger, either\nexternal or internal.\n\nThe real danger to our institutions lies, not in great crises, but\nrather in a gradual, almost insensible, deterioration of the government,\ndue either to a lack of vigilance on the part of the people or to a\nparalysis of their latent powers.\n\nWhile it is possible that the immense fund of good will and good sense\npossessed by the American people may be expended in private pursuits\nand thus diverted from a control of their own government, the far\ngreater danger is that the mighty influences being put forth at almost\nevery election will rupture completely the natural dependence of public\nofficials upon the electorate.\n\nIn order to cure any wrongdoing it is needful, first, to ascertain\ndefinitely wherein the wrong consists, and, secondly, to fix with equal\ndefiniteness upon an adequate remedy.\n\nThe crudest, the most demoralizing and the most common method of\nwithholding the hands of the sovereign people from the control of their\ngovernment is the direct bribery of voters. This means of thwarting the\nwishes of the majority dates back to the early history of the country.\nOur system of so-called majority election by districts, placing, as it\noften does, the balance of power in a small minority of the electorate,\ninvites the purchase of the votes of individuals. It has proved easy both\nto estimate the number of votes needed to turn the scale and to find out\nthe particular voters who can be so influenced.\n\nUpon the original plan of buying individual voters at retail, the\nimprovement has been made of purchasing _en bloc_\u2014the money to be paid\nover only in case of delivery of the goods. In this modern bribery\nby wholesale the venal voters organize, choose an agent to conduct\nnegotiations and sell the entire block of votes to the highest bidder.\nWhen success is achieved, as shown by the count of the ballots, hundreds\nof dollars are paid to the agent and by him distributed to the members of\nthe gang.\n\nBut, whatever the details of the transaction, a long experience has shown\nthat, in a multitude of small constituencies a few dollars placed in\nthe hand of a voter are sufficient to outweigh every consideration of\npatriotism or enlightened self-interest. Wherever this habitually occurs,\nthe rule of a few moneyed men has been substituted for a government by\nthe people.\n\nIn the elections of large cities, of populous states and of the nation at\nlarge, it can seldom happen that bribery of voters, either by retail or\nwholesale, is sufficient to alter the result. To supply this deficiency\nother means are more and more being resorted to. To assure success,\nwhere the number of voters renders the simpler measure for overcoming\nthe people\u2019s will unreliable, party managers now make use of finesse and\nfraud.\n\nThe finesse consists in \u201cpacking\u201d the primary meetings and conventions of\nthe rival party for the purpose of nominating weak opposing candidates.\nNearly every local party may be differentiated into two factions, both\ndesirous of success, but the one occupying morally a very much higher\nplane than the other. The rich party, taking advantage of this division\nin the ranks of its opponents, furnishes funds and votes to aid the baser\nfaction, upon condition, of course, that, having gained control of the\nnomination, candidates will be put up of such a character as to drive\naway the better element from their support.\n\nIn consequence of these manipulations, when election day comes around,\nthe poorer party is found with a so-called \u201cyellow dog\u201d ticket in the\nfield\u2014that is to say, a ticket composed of unfit and unknown men,\nclearly inferior to the pliant respectabilities who have been placed in\nnomination by the richer party.\n\nIt sometimes happens that even this political trick fails to assure\nsuccess. Either the better faction of the opposing party wins, or,\nnotwithstanding the inferiority of the ticket named, it may promise to\nreceive a majority of the votes cast. In this exigency the managers of\nthe party which is fully supplied with the sinews of war do not hesitate\nat direct fraud. That is to say, they expend large sums of money in\nhiring election officials to betray their trusts at the risk of going to\njail.\n\nOne method adopted, where the law provides an official ballot, is to get\nfrom the officials having charge of the ballots one or more to be marked\nfor the voter by heelers outside of the polling-room. This furnishes a\nsure method of bribery, for the venal voter, after depositing the ballot\nthus prepared for him, returns an unmarked ballot to the briber, as a\nguarantee of good faith, to be marked by him for the use of the next\nperson bought. In this way one or more endless chains of purchased votes\nmay be run all day, through the connivance of some election officer. This\nwas done in Pawtucket, R. I., and at other places in that state, on the\neighth of last November.\n\nBut as the number of venal voters in a polling precinct is limited, so\nthere is a limit to the effect attainable by giving out to heelers the\nofficial ballots designed for use in the voting booth only.\n\nWhat more, then, can be done in the way of modern chicanery and\ncriminality?\n\nElection officers may be bought, and are bought, to defraud their\nfellow-citizens in a variety of ways. For instance, there is a very\nconsiderable percentage of illiterate voters in most states, many of\nwhom desire to give their suffrage to the candidates of one of the\npoorer parties. But the richest party has paid the election officials,\nwho assist the illiterate voters, to mark all such ballots for its\ncandidates. Evidence exists that this was done systematically at the\nrecent Presidential and state election in the city of Providence, R. I.,\na sufficient number of voters thus being deceived to turn the scale in\nthe filling of one or more important offices.\n\nInasmuch as there is a limit to the number of illiterate voters, even\nthat base fraud, added to direct bribery, may not effect the desired\nreversal of the people\u2019s will. But the moneyed party has other resources.\n\nIn order to annul votes already cast for opposing candidates, it may hire\nthe election officers to make additional marks upon the ballots before\nthey are counted. In this way in the city of Providence, R. I., at the\nlast election many votes for Augustus S. Meller, the Democratic candidate\nfor mayor, were rendered void\u2014fortunately, however, not in sufficient\nnumbers to prevent his election.\n\nAnd not even yet has the corrupted election officer reached the full\nextent of his ability to defraud. It still is possible for him to\nmiscount votes; or he may announce the result falsely\u2014for example, by\nrevising the total number of votes given to the candidates, when the real\nmajority proves to be adverse to his suborned wishes.\n\nIn case there is a Returning Board, whose duty it is to make a second and\nfinal count of the votes cast, as is the law in the city of Providence\nand the state of Rhode Island, that board, too, or its controlling\nmembers, may be partisan and corrupt.\n\nAt the late election in Rhode Island all the ballots for state officers\nand for Presidential electors were in possession of a partisan Returning\nBoard, of which the chairman of the Republican State Central Committee\nwas the head, for a period of three full weeks before the counting began.\nIf there were miscounts in certain voting districts on election day,\nit was easily possible for members of that Returning Board to open the\nsealed packages of ballots, make such changes as were necessary in order\nto have the ballots conform roughly to the previously announced figures,\nand then to reseal without the fraud being detected.\n\nBut, it may be asked, where are the courts while such frauds are being\nperpetrated? Why are not these criminal election officers punished?\nUnfortunately, the courts, too, are frequently partisan, especially the\nlower courts, before which the cases are first brought.\n\nAfter the election of last November in Rhode Island, three cases were\nbrought before the inferior courts\u2014one for bribery, one for posing as\nan illiterate voter and one against an election officer in charge of a\nballot-box for allowing the deposit by voters of sham instead of official\nballots. Each of these causes was brought before a different local judge,\nand all were thrown out of court. Several days before election it was\nknown that immunity had been promised to hesitating and apprehensive\nelection officers. \u201cThe Republican Party controls the courts,\u201d they\nwere told, \u201cand would see that no punishment was meted out to them for\nunlawful acts.\u201d\n\nIt is needless to say that, if corrupt practices in elections continue\nto increase, the end of popular government in this country is in sight.\nAlready there exists a widespread and deep-seated distrust of the result\nof elections. Instances could be given, occurring within the past ten\nyears, in which a very large proportion of the voters interested, perhaps\na majority of those voting, believe that the wrong candidate was inducted\ninto office.\n\nCertainly no duty is more pressing than to see to it that in every\nelection the unbiased and unbought will of the people be recorded.\n\nIs there a remedy? And, if so, what is it? My conviction is, that we only\nneed to carry out the intent of the founders of this government. They\nblazed the way; we must make a clear and beaten track along that way.\n\nBy a republican form of government the Revolutionary statesmen meant two\nthings, which now are not carried out. They meant that every state, and\nthe nation as well, should possess a legislative body, representative of\nthe will of the people. Nowhere does this exist, not even where honest\nelections assure a free ballot and a fair count. Neither in ability nor\nin opinion do state legislatures by their acts represent a majority of\ntheir constituents, except by accident. Nor will they represent the\npeople until each political party, whether large or small, elects its due\nproportion of the members. That is to say, a party which casts forty-five\nper cent. of the total vote for representatives must have forty per cent.\nof the legislature, and the party which casts five per cent. of the total\nvote must have five per cent. of the legislature. Then only will statute\nlaw be framed in accordance with the will of a majority of the people.\n\nThe other part of our republican form of government, as understood and\nintended by American statesmen of the eighteenth century, was that a\nmajority of the people should directly control the organic law. To this\nend they had the state constitutions framed by the people, acting through\ndelegates chosen to conventions for that sole purpose, but not in effect\nuntil submitted to the electors and adopted by a majority of the votes\ncast for and against. In like manner the referendum was provided for in\ncase of subsequent amendments.\n\nIt was thought, also, that a popular initiative for constitutional\nchanges was created, in the authority given to legislatures to submit\namendments; but, alas, time has shown that those legislatures, being\nunrepresentative of the people, refuse to submit amendments, however\nextensively demanded by public sentiment.\n\nHence the necessity of giving the power to propose constitutional\namendments, as has lately been done in South Dakota, Utah and Oregon, to\na reasonable minority (in those states eight per cent.) of the voters.\nWhen the popular initiative shall thus have been added to the referendum\nalready existing for making changes in the organic law of our states, all\nelse will take care of itself.\n\nThe amendment pending in the Rhode Island Legislature, and known there\nas the constitutional initiative, reads in substance as follows:\n\n        Eight per cent. of the legal voters of the state may\n      propose specific and particular amendments to this\n      constitution by filing with the Secretary of State, not\n      less than three months nor more than nine months prior\n      to any state election, a petition that the electors may,\n      at such election, cast their ballots for or against such\n      amendments. Any proposition thus made shall be submitted to\n      the electors by the Secretary of State at said election,\n      and, if then approved by a majority of the electors of the\n      state present and voting thereon, it shall, ninety days\n      thereafter, become a part of the Constitution of the state.\n\nTo elect a legislature in any state committed to such an amendment calls\nfor not only a widespread but an aggressive public sentiment in its\nfavor. As a rule the organization of the party dominant in the state will\nstrenuously oppose the adoption of the amendment.\n\nA party continuously in power, no matter what its name or avowed\nprinciples, is sure to frown upon radical measures. The complete control\nof the organic law of a state by a majority of its voters means a future\npolitical situation hitherto unknown. The effect upon present party\nleaders and upon partisan organizations cannot be foreseen in full, but\nthat it will be tremendous no one can doubt.\n\nBut if the individuals, who are enjoying the state offices, are opposed\nto a political upheaval of any kind, the parties which are permanently in\nthe minority feel very differently. Their organizations and their members\nwill welcome any reasonable reform which promises to alter materially\nthe existing unsatisfactory situation. Also in sympathy with a reform so\nmeritorious and non-partisan would undoubtedly be found a considerable\nportion of the adherents of the dominant party.\n\nYet even with a clear majority of the voters of any state earnestly in\nfavor of a given amendment to the constitution, it does not follow that\nits adoption would be easy. In every state, with scarcely an exception,\nit is the party whose membership comprises nine-tenths of the total\nwealth, which, with few brief and partial interruptions, controls every\ndepartment of the government. For the past decade this has been the\nsituation more than ever before, and every year finds the power of money\nto determine the results of elections gaining in strength\u2014notwithstanding\na rising public sentiment against abuses which are ignored, if not\nencouraged, by the authorities.\n\nThe situation seems almost hopeless, as is very near being the case, if\nthe reforming elements pursue for the future the same course as in the\npast.\n\nIf the leader of the party in power were permitted to dictate the action\nof opponents, his command would be: \u201cDivide your forces.\u201d Its boss would\nsay: \u201cSplit among yourselves into several separate and distinct parties,\nattack one another with the same virulence that you attack me. Call\nyourselves Democrats, Populists, Socialists, Prohibitionists, Labor, and\nhave whatever platforms or principles you please. In fact, the stronger\nand nobler the men and the issues over which the small parties wave\ntheir banners the better I am pleased, for the more minute will be the\nsubdivision and the more attractive and combative each fractional part.\u201d\n\nAnd these hopelessly minor parties offer few inducements to the\ndissatisfied members of the major party to change their political\naffiliations. Such a transfer is altogether too much like removing one\u2019s\nbed on a bitter cold night from a warm room to a vacant lot. Discomforts,\nand even hardships, patriotic citizens may be willing to endure, but they\ncan scarcely be blamed for refusing to embrace them merely for the fun of\nbeing come-outers.\n\nIn order to contend successfully against the party in power, however\nwell known its abuses, there must be a co-operation of the dissatisfied\nand antagonistic voters. By co-operation it is not meant that an attempt\nshould be made to create a single party with a platform composed of\nthe planks of half a dozen parties. Such a composite is but a rope of\nsand; and, in fact, the stringing together of a collection of unrelated\nquestions, such as prohibition, socialism and labor, is quite as likely\nto end in mutual hostilities as in a combined charge upon the common\nenemy.\n\nThe use of money for carrying a state election by corrupt practices can\nonly be offset by the exercise of great wisdom on the part of those who\ndepend upon other agencies. The second party, which in the Northern\nstates generally means the Democratic, must furnish the nucleus about\nwhich the third, fourth and fifth parties gather. Indeed, it devolves\nupon the second party to invite the other minor parties to join forces\nwith it. And, in order to have such invitation accepted, it must fix upon\none or two paramount issues so fundamental and important as to attract\nstrongly all who are offended with the doings of the party in power.\nIf two issues are elected, one of them may well be a constitutional\namendment such as has been outlined in this article, the other might be a\nlegislative measure\u2014such, for instance, as direct primaries, which serve\nexcellently the purpose of a corrupt practices act.\n\nEach of the minor parties, besides educational work, wishes to preserve\nits organization and to measure its strength at each succeeding election\nby the number of votes cast in its support. The wish is natural and\nproper; but the objects aimed at can be accomplished in a state election\nwithout putting full tickets into the field. The nomination and support\nof a single candidate for a minor state office will fully answer both\npurposes.\n\nThe means of stopping most surely and speedily corrupt practices by\nthe party in power, lies in an open and aboveboard fusion of all its\nopponents upon a few issues, together with a united support of one set\nof candidates for all offices whose incumbents can aid or hinder the\nadoption of the measures agreed upon. This, I believe, offers the best\nchance of accomplishing the very difficult task of establishing in a\nstate good and pure government.\n\n\n\n\n                              _Pole Baker_\n\n                            BY WILL N. HARBEN\n            _Author of \u201cThe Georgians,\u201d \u201cAbner Daniel,\u201d etc._\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I\n\nThe planter alighted from the dusty little train under the crumbling\nbrick car-shed at Darley, turned his heavy hand-luggage over to the negro\nporter and walked across the grass to the steps of the Johnston House.\nHere he was met by Jim Thornton, the dapper young clerk, who always had a\ncurled mustache and hair smoothed flatly down over his brow.\n\n\u201cOh, here you are, right side up, Captain Duncan!\u201d he cried. \u201cYou can\u2019t\nstay away from those level acres of yours very long at a time.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Jim.\u201d The short, thick-set man smiled as he took the extended hand.\n\u201cAs soon as I heard spring had opened up here we left Florida. I had a\nbad case of homesickness. My wife and daughter came a week ago. I had to\nstop on business in Jacksonville. I always want to be here in planting\nseason; my men never seem to know exactly what I want done when I am\naway. Jim, I\u2019ve got a lot of land out there between the river and the\nmountains.\u201d\n\n\u201cI reckon you have,\u201d laughed the clerk as he led his guest into the hotel\noffice. \u201cThere\u2019s a neighbor of yours over there at the stove, old Tom\nMayhew, who runs the big store\u2014Mayhew & Floyd\u2019s\u2014at Springtown.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I know him mighty well,\u201d said Duncan. \u201cHow are you, Mayhew? What are\nyou doing away from your beat? I thought you\u2019d be behind your counter\nsuch fine weather as this.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrade\u2019s dull,\u201d said the merchant, who was a tall, spare-made man about\nsixty-five years of age, with iron-gray hair and beard. \u201cFarmers are all\nat the plow, and that\u2019s where they ought to be if they expect to pay\nanything on their debts this fall. I had to lay in some stock, and so I\nran down to Atlanta day before yesterday. My young partner, Nelson Floyd,\nusually does the replenishing, but the books got out of whack, and I left\nhim to tussle with them; he\u2019s got a better head for figures than I have.\nI\u2019ve just sent to the livery-stable for a horse and buggy to take me out;\nhow are you going?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I hardly know,\u201d answered the planter as he took off his straw hat\nand wiped his bald head with a silk handkerchief. \u201cI telegraphed Lawson,\nmy head overseer, to send somebody to meet me, and I was just wondering\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you\u2019ll be attended to all right, Captain Duncan!\u201d said the clerk,\nwith a laugh as he stood at the register behind the counter. \u201cPole Baker\nwas in here last night asking if you had arrived. He said he had brought\na buggy and was going to drive you back. You will make it all right\nif Pole sobers up long enough to get out of town. He was thoroughly\n\u2018how-come-you-so\u2019 last night. He was in Askew\u2019s bar raising holy Cain.\nThe marshal ordered Billy to close at twelve, but Pole wouldn\u2019t hear to\nit, and they were within an inch of having a fight. I believe they would\nif Mrs. Johnston hadn\u2019t heard them and come down. Pole has more respect\nfor women than most men, and as soon as he saw her at the door he hushed\nup and went to bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s as straight as a shingle this morning, Captain,\u201d put in Charlie\nSmith, a mulatto porter, who was rolling a pair of trucks across the room\nladen with a drummer\u2019s enormous brass-bound trunk. \u201cHe was up before day\nasking if you got in durin\u2019 the night.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m glad he\u2019s sobered up if he\u2019s to take me out,\u201d said the\nplanter. \u201cHe\u2019s about the biggest daredevil out our way. You know him,\ndon\u2019t you, Mayhew?\u201d\n\n\u201cKnow him? Humph! to the extent of over three hundred dollars. Floyd\nthinks the sun rises and sets in him and never will close down on him.\nThey are great friends. Floyd will fight for him at the drop of a hat. He\nsays Pole has more manhood in him to the square inch than any man in the\ncounty, white or black. He saw him in a knock-down-and-drag-out row in\nthe public square last election. They say Pole whipped three bigger men\nthan he is all in a bunch, and bare-handed at that. Nobody knows to this\nday how it started. Nelson doesn\u2019t, but I heard it was some remark one of\nthe fellows made about Nelson himself. You know my partner had a rather\nstrange start in life\u2014a poor boy with nobody to see to his bringing up,\nbut that\u2019s a subject that his best friends don\u2019t mention to him.\u201d\n\nThe Captain nodded understandingly. \u201cThey tell me Pole used to be a\nmoonshiner,\u201d he said, \u201cand I have heard that he was the shrewdest one\nin the mountains. His wife got him to quit it. I understand he fairly\nworships the ground she walks on, and there never was a better father to\nhis children.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe thinks well enough of them when he\u2019s at himself,\u201d said Mayhew, \u201cbut\nwhen he\u2019s drinking he neglects them awfully. I\u2019ve known the neighbors\nto feed them two weeks on a stretch. He\u2019s got enemies out our way. When\nhe quit moonshining he helped some of the government officers find some\nstills over there. That was funny. Pole held off from the job that was\noffered him for a month, during which time he sent word everywhere\nthrough the mountains that he would give all his old friends plenty of\ntime to shut up and quit making whisky, but after his month was up he\nintended to do all he could against law-breakers. He had to testify\nagainst several, and they now certainly have it in for him. He\u2019d have\nbeen shot long ago if his enemies weren\u2019t afraid of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see him coming now, Mr. Mayhew,\u201d said the clerk. \u201cCaptain, he walks\nsteady enough. I reckon he\u2019ll take you through safe.\u201d\n\nThe tall countryman, about thirty-five years of age, without a coat, his\ncoarse cotton shirt open at the neck, a slouch hat on his massive head\nand his tattered trousers stuffed into the tops of his high boots, came\nin. He had a brown, sweeping mustache, and his eyebrows were unusually\nheavy. On the heel of his right foot he wore an old riding-spur, very\nloosely strapped.\n\n\u201cHow are you, Captain Duncan?\u201d he said to the planter as he extended his\nbrawny hand. \u201cYou\u2019ve come back to God\u2019s country, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Baker,\u201d the planter returned with a genial smile; \u201cI had to see\nwhat sort of chance you fellows stand for a crop this year. I understand\nLawson sent you over for me and my baggage. I\u2019m certainly glad he engaged\na man about whom I have heard such good reports.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know about that, Captain,\u201d said Pole, his bushy brows\nmeeting in a frown of displeasure and his dark eyes flashing. \u201cI don\u2019t\nknow as I\u2019m runnin\u2019 a hack-line, or totin\u2019 trunks about for the upper-ten\nset of humanity. I\u2019m a farmer myself, in a sort of way\u2014smaller\u2019n you are,\nbut a farmer. I was comin\u2019 this way yesterday, and was about to take my\nown hoss out o\u2019 the field, where he had plenty to do, when Lawson said,\nsaid he, \u2018Baker, bein\u2019 as you are goin\u2019 to make the trip anyways, I\u2019d\nfeel under obligations ef you\u2019d take my rig and fetch Captain Duncan back\nwhen you come.\u2019 By gum, to tell you the truth, I\u2019ve just come in to tell\nyou, old hoss, if you are ready right now, we\u2019ll ride out together, if\nnot I\u2019ll leave you an\u2019 go out with Nathan Porter. Engaged, the devil! I\u2019m\nnot goin\u2019 to get any money out o\u2019 this job.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I meant no offense at all, Baker,\u201d said the planter in no little\nembarrassment, for the group was smiling.\n\n\u201cWell, I reckon you didn\u2019t,\u201d said Pole, slightly mollified, \u201cbut it\u2019s\nalways a good idea fer two men to know exactly where they stand, and I\u2019m\nhere to say I don\u2019t take off my hat to no man on earth.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the right spirit,\u201d Duncan said admiringly. \u201cNow, I\u2019m ready if you\nare, and it\u2019s time we were on the move. Those two valises are mine and\nthat big overcoat tied in a bundle.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere, Charlie!\u201d Pole called out to the porter, \u201cput them things o\u2019\nDuncan\u2019s in the back end o\u2019 the buggy, an\u2019 I\u2019ll throw you a dime the next\ntime I\u2019m in town.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right, boss,\u201d the mulatto said, with a knowing wink and smile at\nMayhew. \u201cThey\u2019ll be in by the time you get there.\u201d\n\nWhile the planter was at the counter, saying good-bye to the clerk, Pole\nlooked down at Mayhew. \u201cWhen are _you_ goin\u2019 out?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIn an hour or so,\u201d answered the merchant as he spat into a cuspidor.\n\u201cI\u2019m waiting now for a turnout, and I\u2019ve got some business to attend to.\u201d\n\n\u201cCollections to make, I\u2019ll bet my hat,\u201d Pole laughed. \u201cI thought mighty\nfew folks was out on Main Street jest now; they know you are abroad in\nthe land an\u2019 want to save the\u2019r socks.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you reckon that\u2019s it, Pole?\u201d said Mayhew as he spat again. \u201cI thought\nmaybe it was because they was afraid you\u2019d paint the town, and wanted to\nkeep their skins whole.\u201d\n\nThe clerk and the planter laughed. \u201cHe got you that time, Baker,\u201d the\nlatter said, with a smile.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll acknowledge the corn,\u201d and the mountaineer joined in the laugh\ngood-naturedly. \u201cTo look at the old skinflint, settin\u2019 half asleep all\nthe time, a body wouldn\u2019t think his tongue had any life to it. I\u2019ve seed\nthe dern thing wiggle before, but it was mostly when thar was a trade up.\u201d\n\n\n                               CHAPTER II\n\nAs they were driving into the country road, just beyond the straggling\nhouses in the outskirts of the town, going toward the mountains, which\nlay along the western horizon like blue clouds nestling against the\nearth, the planter said:\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve seen you fishing and hunting with Mayhew\u2019s young partner, Nelson\nFloyd. You and he are rather intimate, are you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cJest about as friendly as two men can be,\u201d said Pole, \u201cwhen one\u2019s rising\nin the world an\u2019 t\u2019other is eternally at a standstill, or goin\u2019 down like\na round rock on the side of a mountain. Or maybe, I ought to say, when\none of \u2019em has had the pluck to educate hisself an\u2019 t\u2019other hardly knows\nB from a bull\u2019s foot. I don\u2019t know, Captain, why Nelson Floyd\u2019s friendly\nto me. I like him beca\u2019se he is a man from his toe-nails to the end o\u2019\nthe longest hair on his head.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard a lot of good things about him,\u201d remarked the planter, \u201cand I\nunderstand, too, that he has his faults.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey\u2019re part of his manhood,\u201d said Pole philosophically. \u201cShow me a\nfeller without faults and I\u2019ll show you one that\u2019s too weak to have \u2019em.\nNelson\u2019s got some o\u2019 the dust o\u2019 the broad road on his coat, an\u2019 yet I\u2019d\ntake his place in the general bust-up when old Gabe blows his trumpet\nat the millennium a sight quicker than I\u2019d stand in the shoes o\u2019 some\no\u2019 these jack-leg preachers. I tell you, Captain Duncan, ef the Lord\u2019s\ngoin\u2019 to make favorites o\u2019 some o\u2019 the long-face hypocrites I know, that\nis robbin\u2019 widows an\u2019 orphans in the week an\u2019 prayin\u2019 an\u2019 shoutin\u2019 on\nSunday to pull the wool over folkses\u2019 eyes, me an\u2019 Him won\u2019t gee in the\nhereafter. You know some\u2019n about that boy\u2019s start in life, don\u2019t you,\nCaptain?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot much, I must own,\u201d answered the planter.\n\n\u201cThar it is!\u201d said Pole, with a condemning sneer; \u201cef the pore boy had\nbelonged to one o\u2019 the big families in yore ring out in Murray\u2014the high\nan\u2019 mighty sort, that owned niggers, you\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 heard all about him.\nCaptain, nobody on earth knows how that feller has suffered. All his life\nhe\u2019s wanted to make some\u2019n of hisself an\u2019 has absolutely to my certain\nknowledge had more to contend with than any man alive today. He don\u2019t\neven know the exact date of his birth, an\u2019 ain\u2019t plumb sure that his name\nreally is Floyd. You see, jest at the close of the war a woman\u2014so sick\nshe could hardly walk\u2014come through the Union lines in East Tennessee with\na baby in her arms. The report is that she claimed that her name was\nFloyd, an\u2019 that she called the baby \u2018Nelson.\u2019 She put up at a mountain\ncabin for the night, a shack where some pore razor-back whites lived\nby the name o\u2019 Perdue. Old man Perdue was a lyin\u2019, treacherous scamp,\na bushwhacker and a mountain outlaw, an\u2019 his wife was a good mate to\nhim. Nelson\u2019s mammy, as I say, was tuck in, but thar wasn\u2019t no doctor\nnigh, an\u2019 very little to eat, an\u2019 the next mornin\u2019 she was ravin\u2019 out\nof her head, and late that day she died. I\u2019m tellin\u2019 you now all that\nNelson Floyd ever was able to find out, as it came down to him from one\nperson\u2019s recollection to another\u2019s. Well, the woman was buried som\u2019ers,\nnobody knows whar, an\u2019 old Mrs. Perdue kept the baby more beca\u2019se she\nwas afeared to put it out o\u2019 the way than fer any pity fer it. She had\na whole litter of brats of her own goin\u2019 about winter an\u2019 summer in\nthe\u2019r shirt-tails, an\u2019 so they left Nelson to scratch fer hisself. Then\nthe authorities made it hot fer Perdue on some charges agin \u2019im, and he\nleft the child with another pore mountain family by name o\u2019 Scott and\nmoved clean out o\u2019 the country. The Scotts couldn\u2019t remember much more\nthan hearsay about how Nelson got thar an\u2019 they didn\u2019t care, though they\ntried to raise the boy along with three of their own. He had a tough\ntime of it, for he was a plucky little devil and had a fight mighty nigh\nevery day with somebody. And as he growed up he naturally fell into bad\ncompany, or it fell into him, like everything else did, an\u2019 he tuck to\ndrinkin\u2019 an\u2019 become a regular young outlaw; he was a bloodthirsty rowdy\nbefore he was fifteen; shot at one man fer some cause or other an\u2019 barely\nescaped bein\u2019 put up fer life\u2014nothin\u2019 but bein\u2019 so young got \u2019im off. But\none day\u2014now I\u2019m givin\u2019 it to you jest as Nelson told me\u2014one day he said\nhe got to thinkin\u2019 about the way he was a-goin\u2019, and of his own accord he\nmade up his mind to call a halt. He wanted to cut clean off from his old\nset, an\u2019 so he went to Mayhew and told him he wanted to git work in the\nstore. Old Mayhew would skin a flea fer its hide an\u2019 tallow, an\u2019 seein\u2019\nhis money in the boy, he bound \u2019im to an agreement to work fer his bare\nboard an\u2019 clothes fer three years.\u201d\n\n\u201cLow enough wages, certainly!\u201d exclaimed the planter.\n\n\u201cYes, but Nelson didn\u2019t grumble, and Mayhew will tell you hisself that\nthar never was sech a worker sence the world was made. He was a general\nhand at ever\u2019thing, and as bright as a new dollar and as quick as a steel\ntrap. The Lord only knows when or how he did it, fer nobody ever seed a\nbook in his hands in business hours, but he l\u2019arned to read and write\nand figure. An\u2019 that wasn\u2019t all. Mayhew was sech an old skinflint, and\nso hard on folks who got in his debt, that nobody traded at his shebang\nexcept them that couldn\u2019t go anywhars else; but lo and behold! Nelson\nmade so many friends that they flocked around \u2019im from all directions\nan\u2019 the business of the house was more than doubled at a jump. Mayhew\nknowed the cause of it, fer lots o\u2019 customers throwed it up to \u2019im. The\nprosperity was almost too much fer the old skunk; in fact, he got mighty\nnigh scared at it and actually tried to dam the stream o\u2019 profit. To\nkeep up such a business big credit had to be extended, and it was a new\nventure fer the cautious old scamp. But Nelson had perfect faith in all\nhis friends, and thar it stood\u2014a beardless boy holdin\u2019 forth that it was\nthe old man\u2019s chance fer a lifetime to git rich, and old Mayhew half\nbelievin\u2019 it, crazy to act on Nelson\u2019s judgment, an\u2019 yet afraid it would\nbe ruination. That was at the close of the boy\u2019s three-year contract. He\nwas then about twenty year old, and I was in the store and heard the talk\nbetween \u2019em. We was all a-settin\u2019 at the big wood stove in the back end,\nme an\u2019 the old man, an\u2019 Nelson and Joe Peters, a clerk, who is still with\nthe firm. I shall never forgit that night as long as I live. I gloried\nin the boy\u2019s spunk to sech an extent I could \u2019a\u2019 throwed up my hat an\u2019\nhollered.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ve been waitin\u2019 to have a talk with you, Mr. Mayhew,\u2019 Nelson said.\n\u2018Our contract is out today, and you an\u2019 me disagree so much about runnin\u2019\nthe business that I hardly know what I ought to do an\u2019 not stand in my\nown light. We\u2019ve got to make a fresh contract anyway.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I knowed that was comin\u2019,\u2019 old Mayhew said, with one o\u2019 his big,\nhoggish grunts. \u2018People for miles around have made it the\u2019r particular\nbusiness to fill you up with ideas about what you are wuth. I\u2019ve thought\nsome about lettin\u2019 you go an\u2019 see ef me an\u2019 Joe cayn\u2019t keep things\na-movin\u2019, but you know the trade round here, an\u2019 I want to do the fair\nthing. What do you think yore time\u2019s wuth?\u2019\u201d Pole laughed. \u201cThe old skunk\nwas usin\u2019 exactly the same words he\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 used ef he was startin\u2019 in to\nbuy a load o\u2019 produce an\u2019 wanted to kill expectation at the outset.\n\n\u201c\u2018I want fifty dollars a month, under certain conditions,\u2019 the boy said,\nlookin\u2019 the old skinflint straight in the eye.\n\n\u201c\u2018Fifty\u2014huh! yo\u2019re crazy, stark\u2019 starin\u2019 crazy\u2014plumb off yore base!\u2019 the\nold man said, his lip twisted up like it is when he\u2019s mad. \u2018I see myse\u2019f\npayin\u2019 a beardless boy a Broadway salary to work in a shack like this out\nhere in the mountains.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, I\u2019ll jest be obliged to quit you then,\u2019 Nelson said as steady as\na millpond on a hot day in August, \u2019an\u2019 I\u2019d sorter hate to do it. Moore\n& Trotter, at Darley, offer me that fer the fust six months, with an\nincrease later.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Moore & Trotter!\u2019 the old skunk grunted loud enough to be heard clean\nto the court-house. They was the only firm in this end o\u2019 the state that\ncontrolled as much custom as Mayhew did, an\u2019 it struck the old chap\nunder the ribs. He got up from his chair an\u2019 walked clean down to the\nfront door. It was shet an\u2019 locked, but thar was a lamp on the show-case\nnigh whar he stopped, an\u2019 I could see his old face a-workin\u2019 under\nthe influence o\u2019 good an\u2019 evil. Purty soon he grunted, an\u2019 come back,\nthumpin\u2019 his old stick agin barrels an\u2019 boxes along the way.\n\n\u201c\u2018How am I goin\u2019 to know whether they offered you that much or not?\u2019 he\naxed.\n\n\u201c\u2018Beca\u2019se I said so,\u2019 Nelson told \u2019im, an\u2019 his dark eyes was flashin\u2019\nlike lightnin\u2019. He stood up an\u2019 faced the old codger. \u2018I\u2019ll tell you one\nthing, Mr. Mayhew,\u2019 he let fly at \u2019im, \u2019ef you don\u2019t know whether I\u2019m\ntellin\u2019 the truth or not you\u2019d better let me go, fer a man that will lie\nwill steal. I say they offered me fifty dollars. I\u2019ve got the\u2019r written\nproposition in my pocket, but I\u2019ll be hanged ef I show it to you.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed Duncan.\n\n\u201cWell, it knocked the old man clean off his feet,\u201d Pole went on. \u201cHe sat\ndown in his chair again, all of a tremble an\u2019 white about the mouth.\nStingy people git scared to death at the very idea o\u2019 payin\u2019 out money,\nanyway, an\u2019 stingy don\u2019t fit that old cuss. Ef Noah Webster had known him\nhe\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 made another word fer that meanin\u2019. I don\u2019t know but he\u2019d simply\n\u2019a\u2019 spelled out the old man\u2019s name an\u2019 \u2019a\u2019 been done with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat answer did Mayhew give the young man, Baker?\u201d asked the planter in\na tone which indicated no little interest.\n\n\u201cWhy, he jest set still for awhile,\u201d said Pole, \u201can\u2019 me an\u2019 Joe Peters\nwas a-wonderin\u2019 what he\u2019d say. He never did do anything sudden. Ef he\never gits thar he\u2019ll feel his way through heaven\u2019s gate. I seed \u2019im keep\na woman standin\u2019 in the store once from breakfast to dinner-time while\nhe was lookin\u2019 fer a paper o\u2019 needles she\u2019d called fer. Every now an\u2019\nthen he\u2019d quit huntin\u2019 fer the needles an\u2019 go an\u2019 wait on some other\ncustomer, an\u2019 then come back to \u2019er. She was a timid sort o\u2019 thing, an\u2019\ndidn\u2019t seem to think she had the right to leave, bein\u2019 as she had started\nthe search. Whenever she\u2019d go towards the door to see ef her hoss was\nstandin\u2019, he\u2019d call \u2019er back an\u2019 ax \u2019er about \u2019er crap an\u2019 tell \u2019er not\nto be in a hurry\u2014that Rome wasn\u2019t built in a day, an\u2019 the like. You know\nthe old cuss has some education. Finally he found the needles an\u2019 tuck\nanother half an hour to select a scrap o\u2019 paper little enough to wrap \u2019em\nup in. But you axed me what Mayhew said to \u2019im. You bet the boy was too\ngood a trader to push a matter like that to a head. He\u2019d throwed down the\nbars, an\u2019 he jest waited fer the old man to go through of his own accord.\nFinally Mayhew axed, as indifferent as he could under all his excitement,\n\u2018When do you intend to answer the letter you say you got from Moore &\nTrotter?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ve already answered it,\u2019 Nelson said. \u2018I told \u2019em I appreciated the\u2019r\noffer an\u2019 would run over an\u2019 see \u2019em day after tomorrow.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cGood, very well said, Baker!\u201d laughed Captain Duncan. \u201cNo wonder the\nyoung man\u2019s become rich. You can\u2019t keep talent like that down. But what\ndid old Mayhew say?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was like pullin\u2019 eye-teeth,\u201d answered Pole, \u201cbut he finally come\nacross. \u2018Well,\u2019 said he, \u2018I reckon you kin make yorese\u2019f as useful to me\nas you kin to them, an\u2019 ef you are bent on ridin\u2019 me to death, after I\npicked you up an\u2019 give you a start an\u2019 l\u2019arnt you how to do business, I\nreckon I\u2019ll have to put up with it.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I don\u2019t feel like I owe you anything,\u2019 said Nelson as plucky as a\nbanker demandin\u2019 good security on a loan. \u2018I\u2019ve worked for you like a\nslave for three years for my bare livin\u2019 an\u2019 my experience, an\u2019 from now\non I am goin\u2019 to work for Number One. I said that I\u2019d stay for fifty\ndollars a month on certain conditions.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Conditions?\u2019 the old man growled. \u2018What conditions do you mean?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, it\u2019s jest this,\u2019 said Nelson. \u2018I\u2019ve had my feelin\u2019s, an\u2019 the\nfeelin\u2019s o\u2019 my friends, hurt time after time by you turnin\u2019 folks off\nwithout credit when I knowed they would meet the\u2019r obligations. Now, ef\nI stay with you it is with the distinct understandin\u2019 that I have the\nauthority to give or refuse credit whenever I see fit.\u2019\n\n\u201cThat knocked the old man off his perch agin. He wilted an\u2019 sat thar as\nlimp as a dish-rag. Joe Peters worships the ground Nelson walks on, an\u2019\nas \u2019feard as he was o\u2019 the old man, he busted out in a big chuckle, an\u2019\nrubbed his hands together. Besides he knowed the boy was talkin\u2019 fer the\ninterest o\u2019 the business. He\u2019d seed no end o\u2019 good customers sent off fer\nno reason in the world than that Mayhew was scared o\u2019 his shadow.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll never consent to _that!_\u2019 Mayhew said, mighty nigh clean whipped\nout.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, Moore & Trotter _will_,\u2019 Nelson said. \u2018That\u2019s one o\u2019 the things\nlaid down in the\u2019r proposition.\u2019 An\u2019 the boy went to the desk an\u2019 drawed\nout a sheet o\u2019 paper an\u2019 dipped his pen in the ink. The old man set\nquivering awhile, an\u2019 then got up an\u2019 went an\u2019 stood behind the boy. \u2018Put\ndown yore pen,\u2019 said he, with a sigh from away down inside of \u2019im. \u2018It\nwould ruin me fer you to go to Darley\u2014half the trade would follow you. Go\nahead; I\u2019ll keep you an\u2019 run the risk.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe planter had been listening attentively, and he now said admiringly:\n\u201cEven at that early age the boy was showing what developed later. It\nwasn\u2019t long after that before he became the old man\u2019s partner, I believe.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe next year,\u201d answered Pole. \u201cHe saved every dollar of his wages,\nand made some good investments that turned out money. It wasn\u2019t a big\nslice of the business at fust, but he now owns a half, an\u2019, countin\u2019 his\noutside interests, he\u2019s wuth a great deal more than old Mayhew. He\u2019s rich\nalready, Captain.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I\u2019ve heard the women say,\u201d smiled the planter. \u201cWomen always keep\ntrack of well-to-do unmarried men.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt hain\u2019t spiled Nelson one bit, though,\u201d added Baker. \u201cHe\u2019s the same\nunselfish friend to me as he ever was, and I hain\u2019t hardly got a roof\nto cover me an\u2019 mine. But, as solid as he always was, he had a serious\nback-set about three years ago, and all his well-wishers thought it was\ngoin\u2019 to do him up.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean when he took to drinking,\u201d said Captain Duncan interrogatively.\n\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I mean. He\u2019d formed the habit when he was a boy, and,\nalong with his prosperity an\u2019 late work hours, it begun to fasten its\nclaws on \u2019im like it has on some other folks I know, Captain. He had a\nlot o\u2019 night work to do, an\u2019 Thigpen\u2019s bar was right j\u2019inin\u2019 the store.\nNelson used to slide in at the back door whenever the notion struck \u2019im,\nand he made the trail hot, I tell you. Old Mayhew kept a sharp eye on\n\u2019im, an\u2019 ever\u2019 now and then he\u2019d git powerful blue over the way things\nwas a-goin\u2019. Finally the old cuss got desperate an\u2019 called a halt. He had\na straight talk with Nelson, an\u2019 told \u2019im they would have to divide the\u2019r\ninterests, that he wasn\u2019t a drinkin\u2019 man hisse\u2019f, an\u2019 he didn\u2019t want to\nbe yoked to one that was soaked half the time. It fetched the boy to his\nsenses. He come over to my house that night an\u2019 called me out to the\nfence.\n\n\u201c\u2018I want to make a deal with you, Pole,\u2019 said he.\n\n\u201c\u2018With me?\u2019 says I. \u2018What sort of a deal?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why,\u2019 said he, \u2018I\u2019ve made up my mind to swear off fer good an\u2019 all, an\u2019\nI want you to j\u2019ine me.\u2019\n\n\u201cI agreed all right,\u201d Pole laughed. \u201cIn fact, I was sorter in that\nbusiness. I\u2019d promised every preacher an\u2019 temperance worker in the\ncounty to quit, an\u2019 I couldn\u2019t refuse a friend what I was dispensin\u2019 so\nfreely right an\u2019 left. So I said, said I, \u2018All right, Nelson; I\u2019m with\nyou.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how did it come out?\u201d questioned the planter as he bowed to a wagon\nfull of farmers going in an opposite direction.\n\n\u201cHis vaccination tuck,\u201d Pole smiled. \u201cHe had a mighty sore arm fer a week\nor so, but he held out. As fer me, I was so dern glad to see his success\nin abstainin\u2019 that I started in to celebrate. I did try at fust, though.\nOne mornin\u2019 I went in the store an\u2019 seed Nelson have sech a clean,\nprosperous look an\u2019 so well satisfied with his stand that I went out with\nfresh resolutions. What did I do? I went to the barroom an\u2019 bought four\npint bottles o\u2019 red rye an\u2019 tuck \u2019em home with me. I set \u2019em all in a\nstraight row on the mantel-shelf, nigh the edge, in front o\u2019 the clock,\nan\u2019 was standin\u2019 lookin\u2019 at \u2019em when Sally, my wife, come in. She seed\nthe display an\u2019 jest set kerflop down in her chair an\u2019 begun to whimper.\n\n\u201c\u2018You hold on,\u2019 said I; \u2018don\u2019t you cross a foot-log till the tree\u2019s\ndown. I\u2019m tryin\u2019 a new dicker. I\u2019ve always heard that familiarity breeds\ncontempt, an\u2019 I\u2019ve also heard that the hair o\u2019 the dog is good fer the\nbite. Now, I\u2019ve tried my level best to quit liquor by stayin\u2019 away from\nit an\u2019 I\u2019m a-goin\u2019 to see ef I cayn\u2019t do it with its red eye on me all\nthe time.\u2019 Well, Captain, the sweet little woman\u2014she\u2019s a sweet, dear\nlittle creature, Captain Duncan, ef I do say it myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve always heard so, Baker,\u201d the planter said. \u201cShe\u2019s very popular with\nyour neighbors.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 I\u2019m jest t\u2019other way,\u201d said Pole. \u201cWell, Sally, she got up an\u2019\nkissed me, an\u2019 said that somehow she felt like my plan would work.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd did it\u2014I mean,\u201d the Captain recalled Pole\u2019s spree of only the night\nbefore, \u201cI mean did it work for any length of time?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was goin\u2019 on to tell you,\u201d answered the mountaineer. \u201cThat night fer\nthe fust time sence my marriage I woke smack dab in the middle o\u2019 the\nnight, an\u2019 as I laid thar in the room filled with moonlight I couldn\u2019t\nsee a blessed thing but that row o\u2019 bottles, an\u2019 then my mouth set in\nto waterin\u2019 at sech a rate that I got afeard I\u2019d ketch my death from\nsleepin\u2019 on a wet pillow. It was certainly a struggle with the flesh.\nI\u2019d put my thirst, when she\u2019s good an\u2019 dry, agin any that ever tickled a\nhuman throat. It \u2019ud take the blue ribbon at a state fair. It\u2019s a rail\nthing; it kin walk an\u2019 talk an\u2019 kick an\u2019 squirm, but it won\u2019t be dictated\nto. Finally Sally woke up an\u2019 said:\n\n\u201c\u2018What\u2019s the matter, Pole? Hain\u2019t you comfortable?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Comfortable, the devil!\u2019 said I. I\u2019m usually polite to Sally, but I\nfelt like that wasn\u2019t no time an\u2019 place to talk about little matters.\n\u2018Comfortable, nothin\u2019,\u2019 said I; \u2018Sally, ef you don\u2019t take that \u201cdog-hair\u201d\nout o\u2019 this house an\u2019 hide it, I\u2019ll be as drunk as a b\u2019iled owl in ten\nminutes.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2019\u201cDog-hair?\u201d\u2019 said she, an\u2019 then the little woman remembered an\u2019 got\nup. I heard the bottles tinkle like sorrowful good-bye bells callin\u2019\nwanderin\u2019 friends back to the fold as she tuck \u2019em up an\u2019 left. Captain,\nI felt jest like\u201d\u2014Pole laughed good-naturedly\u2014\u201cI felt like thar was a\nplot agin the best friends I ever had. I actually felt sorry fer them\nbottles, an\u2019 I got up an\u2019 stood at the window an\u2019 watched Sally as she\ntuck \u2019em away out in the lonely moonlight to the barn. I seed \u2019er climb\nover the fence o\u2019 the cow-lot an\u2019 go in the side whar I kept my hay an\u2019\nfodder an\u2019 roughness fer my cattle. Then I laid down in bed agin.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was certainly a courageous thing to do,\u201d said the planter, \u201cand you\ndeserve credit for putting your foot down so firmly on what you felt was\nso injurious, even, even\u2014\u201d the Captain came back again to reality\u2014\u201ceven\nif you did not remain firm very long afterward.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll tell you one thing,\u201d the ex-moonshiner laughed again, and his\neyes twinkled in subtle enjoyment, \u201cit tuck Sally longer, it seemed to\nme, to git to sleep after she got back than it ever had in all her life.\nOf all times on earth she wanted to talk. But I shet \u2019er off. I made\nlike I was breathin\u2019 good an\u2019 deep an\u2019 then she set in too. What did I\ndo? Captain Duncan, I spent the best half o\u2019 that night out in the barn\nlookin\u2019 fer hens\u2019 nests. I found two an\u2019 had to be put to bed at sun-up.\u201d\n\nThe planter laughed heartily. \u201cThere is one good thing about the\nsituation, Baker,\u201d he said, \u201cand that is, your making a joke of it. I\nbelieve you will get the under-hold on the thing some day and throw it\nover. Coming back to your friend Floyd; it\u2019s a fact that he gave up\nwhisky, but if reports are true, he has another fault that is almost as\nbad.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you mean all that talk about Jeff Wade\u2019s sister,\u201d answered the\nmountaineer.\n\n\u201cYes, Baker, a reputation of that sort is not a desirable thing in any\ncommunity. I know that many brainy and successful men hold that kind of\nthing lightly, but it will down anybody who tampers with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, look here, Captain,\u201d Pole said sharply, \u201cdon\u2019t you be plumb\nfoolish! Ain\u2019t you got more sense \u2019an to swallow everything that passes\namongst idle women in these mountains? Nelson Floyd, I\u2019ll admit, has got\na backbone full o\u2019 the fire o\u2019 youth an\u2019 strong-blooded manhood, but\nhe\u2019s, to my positive knowledge, one o\u2019 the cleanest young men I ever come\nacross. To tell you the truth, I don\u2019t believe he ever made but that\none slip. It got out, an\u2019 beca\u2019se he was rich an\u2019 prominent, it raised\na regular whirlwind o\u2019 gossip an\u2019 exaggeration. If the same thing had\nhappened to half a dozen other young men round about here, not a word\nwould \u2019a\u2019 been said.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I see!\u201d smiled the planter. \u201cHe\u2019s not as black as he\u2019s painted,\nthen?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot by a jugful!\u201d said the farmer. \u201cI tell you he\u2019s all right, Captain,\nan\u2019 folks will know it \u2019fore long.\u201d\n\n\n                               CHAPTER III\n\nSpringtown was about twelve miles west of Darley, only a mile from\nCaptain Duncan\u2019s house, and half a mile from Pole Baker\u2019s humble cottage\nand small farm. The village had a population of about two hundred souls.\nIt was the county seat; and the court-house, a simple, ante-bellum brick\nstructure, stood in the centre of the public square, round which were\nclustered the one-storied shops, lawyers\u2019 offices, cotton warehouses,\nhotel and general stores.\n\nChief among the last mentioned was the well-known establishment of Mayhew\n& Floyd. It was a long frame building, once white but now a murky gray, a\ntone which nothing but the brush of time and weather could have given it.\n\nIt was only a week since Captain Duncan\u2019s talk with Pole Baker, and a\nbright, inspiring morning, well suited to the breaking of the soil and\nthe planting of seed. The village was agog with the spirit of hope. The\npost-office was filled with men who had come for their mail, and they\nstood and chatted about the crops on the long veranda of the hotel and\nin the front part of Mayhew & Floyd\u2019s store. Pole Baker was in the store\ntalking with Joe Peters, the clerk, about seed-potatoes, when a tall\ncountryman in the neighborhood of forty-five years of age slouched in and\nleaned heavily against the counter.\n\n\u201cI want a box o\u2019 forty-four cartridges,\u201d he said, drawing out a long\nrevolver and rapping on the counter with the butt of it.\n\n\u201cWhat! you goin\u2019 squirrel huntin\u2019?\u201d Peters laughed and winked at Pole.\n\u201cThat gun\u2019s got a long enough barrel to reach the top o\u2019 the highest tree\nin these mountains.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou slide around behind thar an\u2019 git me them cartridges!\u201d retorted the\ncustomer. \u201cDo yore talkin\u2019 to somebody else. I\u2019ll hunt what an\u2019 whar I\nwant to, I reckon.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, come off yore perch, Jeff Wade!\u201d the clerk said, with another easy\nlaugh. \u201cYou hain\u2019t nobody\u2019s daddy. But here you are. Forty cents a box,\nfull count, every one warranted to make a hole an\u2019 a noise. Want me to\ncharge \u2019em?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t; by God\u2014I don\u2019t! An\u2019 what\u2019s more, I want to know exactly how\nmuch I owe this house. I went to a dozen money lenders \u2019fore I found what\nI wanted, but I got it an\u2019 I want to pay what I owe Mayhew & Floyd.\u201d\n\nJust then Pole Baker stepped up to the man\u2019s side and, peering under the\nbroad brim of his hat, said:\n\n\u201cLooky here, Jeff Wade, what you shootin\u2019 off yore mouth fer? I \u2019lowed at\nfust that you was full, but you hain\u2019t drinkin\u2019; at least, you don\u2019t seem\nthat way to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cDrinkin\u2019, hell! No, I\u2019m not drinkin\u2019, an\u2019 what\u2019s more, I don\u2019t intend\nto let a drap pass down my throat till I\u2019ve done my duty to me an\u2019 mine.\nSay, you look an\u2019 see ef I\u2019m drinkin\u2019. See ef you think a man that\u2019s in\nliquor would have as steady a nerve as I\u2019ve got. You watch me! Maybe\nit\u2019ll show you what I\u2019m able to do.\u201d\n\nTurning, he stalked out of the store, and Peters and Pole followed,\nwatching him in wonder. He strode across the street to the court-house,\nloading his revolver as he went. Reaching the closed door of the public\nbuilding he took an envelope from his pocket and fastened it to the panel\nby thrusting the blade of his big pocket-knife into it several times.\nThe spectators heard the hollow, resounding blows like the strokes of a\ncarpenter\u2019s hammer, and then Wade turned and came back toward them.\n\n\u201cBy gum, he\u2019s off his nut!\u201d said Peters seriously. \u201cHe\u2019s as crazy as a\nbedbug.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s my opinion he\u2019s jest comin\u2019 to his senses,\u201d Pole mused, a\nthoughtful look in his eyes. \u201cYes, that\u2019s about it; he\u2019s jest wakin\u2019 up,\nan\u2019 the whole county will know it, too. By gum, I hate this\u2014I hate it!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou hate what?\u201d asked Peters, his eyes on the farmer, who was now quite\nnear them. Pole made no reply, for Wade was by his side on the brick\nwalk beneath the wooden shed in front of the store, his revolver swinging\nat his side.\n\n\u201cYou fellows keep yore eye on that envelope,\u201d said Wade, and he cocked\nhis revolver.\n\n\u201cLook here, don\u2019t make a dern fool o\u2019 yorese\u2019f,\u201d said Pole Baker, and\nhe laid a remonstrating hand on the tense arm of the gaunt mountaineer.\n\u201cYou know it\u2019s agin the ordinance. You know you\u2019ll git into trouble; you\nlisten to the advice of a friend. Put that gun up an\u2019 go home.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m my own boss!\u201d snarled the man with the weapon.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re a blamed fool too,\u201d answered Baker.\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s my lookout.\u201d Wade glared over his shoulder and raised his\nvoice significantly: \u201cI want to show this town how easy it will be fer me\nto put three balls into the blackest heart that ever pumped human blood.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019d better mind what yo\u2019re about, Jeff Wade.\u201d Pole Baker was pale, his\nlips were tight, his eyes flashing.\n\n\u201cI know what I\u2019m about. I\u2019m tryin\u2019 to draw a coward from his lair. I\u2019m\nnot shore\u2014I\u2019m not _dead_ shore, mind you, but I\u2019m mighty nigh it. Ef the\nguilty stand an\u2019 hear what I\u2019m a-sayin\u2019 an\u2019 don\u2019t take it up, they are\nwuss than hell-tainted. You watch that white mark.\u201d\n\nThe bystanders, several comprehending, stood rigid. Pole Baker stared.\nWade raised his revolver, aimed steadily at the mark and fired three\nshots in quick succession.\n\n\u201cThar!\u201d said the marksman, with grim triumph, \u201cas bad as my sight is, I\nkin see \u2019em from here.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy gum, they are thar!\u201d exclaimed Peters, with a strange look into Pole\nBaker\u2019s set face. \u201cThey are thar, Pole.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou bet they are thar, an\u2019 some\u2019ll be in another spot \u2019fore long,\u201d said\nWade. \u201cNow, Peters, you go in the house an\u2019 bring me my account. I\u2019ve got\nthe money.\u201d\n\nWonderingly the clerk obeyed. Pole went into the store behind him, and,\nas Peters stood at the big ledger figuring, Pole stepped up to Nelson\nFloyd, who sat near a window in the rear with a newspaper in front of him.\n\n\u201cDid you hear all that, Nelson?\u201d the farmer asked.\n\n\u201cDid I? Of course I did; wasn\u2019t it intended for\u2014?\u201d The young merchant\nglanced furtively at Peters and paused. His handsome, dark face was set\nas from some inward struggle.\n\nThere was a pause. Peters went toward the front, a written account drying\nin the air as he waved it to and fro.\n\n\u201cI was about to ask you if\u2014?\u201d the young merchant started to say, but he\nwas interrupted by Baker.\n\n\u201cHush, listen!\u201d\n\nThere was the sound of clinking coin on the counter below. The bell on\nthe cash-drawer rang as the clerk put the money away.\n\n\u201cThar, I\u2019m even with this dirty shebang!\u201d It was Jeff Wade\u2019s raised\nvoice. \u201cAn\u2019 I kin act when the proper time comes. Oh, you all know what\nI\u2019m talkin\u2019 about! Nobody kin hide a thing in these mountains. But you\u2019ll\nall understand it better ef it ever comes into yore families. I never\nhad but one little sister\u2014she was all the Lord ever allowed me to have.\nWell, she was married not more\u2019n a month ago, an\u2019 went off to Texas with\na man who believes in \u2019er an\u2019 swears he will make her a good husband\nan\u2019 protector. But no sooner was the pore little thing gone than the\ntalk set in. It was writ out to her, an\u2019 she writ back to me to stop it.\nShe admitted it was true, but wouldn\u2019t lay the blame. Folks say they\nknow, but they won\u2019t talk. They are afeared o\u2019 the influence o\u2019 money\nan\u2019 power, I reckon, but it will git out. I have my suspicions, but I\u2019m\nnot dead sure, but I will be, an\u2019 what I done fer that scrap o\u2019 paper\nI will do fer that man, ef God don\u2019t paralyze this right arm. Ef the\nblack-hearted devil is within the sound o\u2019 my voice at this minute, an\u2019\nstays still, he\u2019s not only the thief of a woman\u2019s happiness, but he\u2019s\nwuss than a coward. He\u2019s a sneakin\u2019 son\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nNelson Floyd, his face rigid, sprang up and went into Joe Peters\u2019s little\nbedroom, which was cut off in one corner of the store. Opening the top\ndrawer of an old bureau, he took out a revolver. Turning, he met the\nstalwart form of Pole Baker in the doorway.\n\n\u201cPut down that gun, Nelson; put it down!\u201d Pole commanded. \u201cJeff Wade\u2019s\ndeliberately set this trap to draw you into it, an\u2019 the minute you walk\ndown thar it will be a public acknowledgment, an\u2019 he\u2019ll kill you \u2019fore\nyou can bat an eye.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt,\u201d said Nelson Floyd; \u201cbut the fellow has his rights. I could\nnever draw a free breath if this passes. I owe it to the poor devil,\nPole, and I\u2019ll pay. That has always been my rule. I\u2019ll pay. Stand aside!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll be damned ef I do!\u201d Pole stood his ground firmly. \u201cYou must listen\nto reason. It\u2019s deliberate death.\u201d\n\n\u201cStand out of the way, Pole; don\u2019t make me mad,\u201d said Floyd. \u201cI\u2019m goin\u2019\ndown. I\u2019d expect him to pay me, and I shall him.\u201d\n\n\u201cStop! you are a fool\u2014you are a hot-headed idiot, Nelson Floyd! Listen to\nme\u201d\u2014Pole caught the revolver and held on to the barrel of it, while the\nyoung merchant clutched the butt\u2014\u201clisten to me, I say. Are you a-goin\u2019\nback on a helpless little woman who gets married to a man who believes\nin her an\u2019 goes away off an\u2019 is on a fair road to happiness\u2014are you, I\nsay, a-goin\u2019 to publicly advertise her shame, an\u2019, no doubt, bust up a\ncontented home?\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat God, Pole!\u201d exclaimed Floyd as he sank on to the edge of Peters\u2019s\nbed, \u201cdo you think, if I give him satisfaction, it will\u2014\u2014?\u201d\n\n\u201cWill it? It will be in every paper from Maine to California. Meddlesome\ndevils will mark the articles an\u2019 mail \u2019em to the gal\u2019s husband. A lot o\u2019\nfolks did the\u2019r level best to bust up the match anyway, by talkin\u2019 to him\nabout you an\u2019 others.\u201d\n\nNelson Floyd stared at the floor and slowly nodded his head.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s caught me in a more degrading trap than the other would have been,\nPole,\u201d he declared bitterly. \u201cMy conduct has branded me as a coward\nand left me without power to vindicate myself. That\u2019s one of the ways\nProvidence has of punishing a poor devil. He may have a good impulse, but\ncan\u2019t act upon it owing to the restrictions laid on him by his very sins.\u201d\n\nPole looked down into the store.\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d he said gloomily. \u201cWade\u2019s gone.\u201d\n\nFloyd dropped the revolver into the drawer of the bureau and went back to\nhis desk.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s only a question of time, Pole,\u201d he said. \u201cHe suspects me now, but\nis not sure. It won\u2019t be long before the full story will reach him, and\nthen we\u2019ll have to meet. As far as I am concerned, I\u2019d rather have had it\nout with him. I\u2019ve swallowed a bitter pill this mornin\u2019, Pole.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it wasn\u2019t a lead one.\u201d Baker\u2019s habitual sense of humor was rising\nto the surface. \u201cMost any sort o\u2019 physic is better\u2019n cold metal shoved\ninto the system the wrong way.\u201d\n\nThere was a step in the store. Pole looked down again.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s old Mayhew,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m powerful glad he was late this mornin\u2019,\nNelson. The old codger would have seed through that talk.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, he would have seen through it,\u201d answered Floyd despondently as he\nopened a big ledger and bent over it.\n\nMayhew trudged toward them, his heavy cane knocking against the long\ndry-goods counter.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll have the law on that fellow!\u201d he growled as he hung his stick on\nits accustomed nail behind the stove. \u201cNo rampageous daredevil like that\ncan stand right in my door and shoot for mere amusement at the county\ncourt-house. This isn\u2019t a fort yet, and the war is over, thank the Lord.\u201d\n\nPole glanced at Floyd.\n\n\u201cOh, he\u2019s jest a little hilarious this mornin\u2019, Mr. Mayhew,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\nmust \u2019a\u2019 met a mountain whisky wagon on his way to town. Anyways, you\nneedn\u2019t complain; he come in here jest now an\u2019 paid off his account in\nfull.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat? Paid off? Is that so, Nelson?\u201d\n\nFloyd nodded, and then bent more closely over the ledger. \u201cYes, he paid\nup to date.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s queer\u2014or I am, one or the other. Why, boys, I had that\nfellow on my dead-list. I didn\u2019t think he\u2019d ever raise any money, and if\nhe did I had no idea it would drift our way.\u201d\n\nFloyd left the desk and reached for his hat. Pole was watching him\nclosely.\n\n\u201cPost-office?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d The two walked part of the way to the front door and paused. Joe\nPeters was attending a man on the grocery side of the house, and a young\nwoman neatly dressed, with a pretty figure and graceful movement, stood\nwaiting her turn.\n\n\u201cBy gum,\u201d Pole exclaimed under his breath, \u201cthat\u2019s my little neighbor,\nCynthia Porter\u2014the purtiest, neatest an\u2019 best little trick that ever wore\na bonnet. I needn\u2019t tell you that, though, you old scamp. You\u2019ve already\nfound it out. Go wait on \u2019er, Nelson. Don\u2019t keep \u2019er standin\u2019 thar.\u201d\n\nPole sat on a bag of coffee and his friend went to the girl.\n\n\u201cGood morning, Miss Cynthia,\u201d he said, his hat in his hand. \u201cPeters seems\nbusy. I don\u2019t know much about the stock, but if you\u2019ll tell me what you\nwant I\u2019ll look for it.\u201d\n\nTurning, she stared at him, her big brown eyes under their long lashes\nwide open as if in surprise.\n\n\u201cWhy\u2014why\u2014\u201d She seemed to be making a valiant effort at self-control, and\nthen he noticed that her voice was quivering and that she was quite pale.\n\n\u201cI really didn\u2019t want to buy anything,\u201d she said. \u201cMother sent me to\ntell Mr. Peters that she couldn\u2019t possibly have the butter ready before\ntomorrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, the butter!\u201d Floyd said, studying her face and manner in perplexity.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d the girl went on, \u201cshe promised to have ten pounds ready to send\nto Darley, but the calves got to the cows and spoiled everything. That\nthrew her at least a day behind.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that don\u2019t make a bit o\u2019 difference to us, Miss Cynthia,\u201d the clerk\ncried out from the scales, where he was weighing a parcel of sugar. \u201cOur\nwagon ain\u2019t going over till Saturday, nohow.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, she will certainly be glad,\u201d the girl returned in a tone of\nrelief, and she moved toward the door. Floyd, still wondering, went with\nher to the sidewalk.\n\n\u201cYou look pale,\u201d he said tentatively, \u201cand\u2014and, well, the truth is, I\nhave never seen you just this way, Cynthia. Have you been having more\ntrouble at home? Is your mother still determined that we sha\u2019n\u2019t have any\nmore of those delightful buggy-rides?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t that\u2014_today_,\u201d she said, her eyes raised to his in a glance\nthat, somehow, went straight to his heart. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you. As I came on,\nI had just reached Sim Tompkins\u2019s field, where he was planting corn and\nburning stumps, when a negro\u2014one of Captain Duncan\u2019s hands\u2014passed on a\nmule. I didn\u2019t hear what he said, but when I came to Sim he had stopped\nplowing and was leaning over the fence saying, \u2018Awful, horrible!\u2019 and so\non. I asked him what had happened and he told me\u2014\u201d she dropped her eyes,\nher words hung in her throat and she put a slender, tapering, though firm\nand sun-browned, hand to her lips.\n\n\u201cGo on,\u201d Floyd urged her, \u201cTompkins said\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHe said,\u201d the girl swallowed, \u201cthat you and Jeff Wade had had words in\nfront of the store and that Wade had shot and killed you. I\u2014I\u2014didn\u2019t\nstop to inquire of anyone\u2014I thought it was true\u2014and came on here. When I\nsaw you just then absolutely unharmed I\u2014I\u2014of course\u2014it surprised me\u2014or\u2014I\nmean\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHow ridiculous!\u201d He laughed mechanically. \u201cThere must be some mistake,\nCynthia. People always get things crooked. That shows how little truth\nthere is in reports. Wade came in here and paid his bill, and did not\neven speak to me or I to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I heard pistol shots myself away down the road,\u201d said the girl, \u201cand\nas I came in I saw a group of men right there. They were pointing down at\nthe sidewalk, and one of them said, \u2018He stood right there and fired three\ntimes.\u2019\u201d\n\nFloyd laughed again, while her lynx eyes slowly probed his face. He\npointed at the court-house door. \u201cCynthia, do you see that envelope? Wade\nwas shooting at it. I haven\u2019t been over to see yet, but they say he put\nthree balls close together in its centre. We ought to incorporate this\nplace into a town so that a thing of that sort wouldn\u2019t be allowed.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that was it!\u201d Cynthia exclaimed in a full breath of relief. \u201cI\nsuppose you think I\u2019m a goose to be so scared at nothing.\u201d\n\nFloyd\u2019s face clouded over, his eyes went down. A customer was going\ninto the store, and he walked on to the street corner with her before\nreplying. Then he said tenderly: \u201cI\u2019m glad, though, Cynthia, that you\nfelt badly, as I see you did, when you thought I was done for. Good-bye;\nI shall see you again some way, I hope, before long, even if your mother\ndoes object.\u201d\n\nAs they walked away out of his sight Pole Baker lowered his shaggy head\nto his brawny hands, his elbows resting on his knees.\n\n\u201cFool!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cRight now with his head in the very jaws o\u2019 death\nhe goes on talkin\u2019 sweet stuff to women. A purty face, a soft voice an\u2019\na pair o\u2019 dreamy eyes would lead that man right into the fire o\u2019 hell\nitself. But that hain\u2019t the p\u2019int. Pole Baker, he\u2019s yore friend, an\u2019 Jeff\nWade is a-goin\u2019 to kill \u2019im jest as shore as preachin\u2019.\u201d\n\nWhen Pole left the store he saw nothing of Floyd, but he noticed\nsomething else. He was passing Thigpen\u2019s bar and through the open doorway\nhe caught sight of a row of bottles behind the counter. A seductive,\nsoothing odor greeted him; there was a merry clicking of billiard balls\nin the rear, the joyous thumping of cues on the floor and merry laughter.\nPole hesitated and then plunged in. At any rate, he told himself, one\ndrink would steady his nerves and show him some way, perhaps, to rescue\nFloyd from his overhanging peril. Pole took his drink and sat down. Then\na friend came in and gave him two or three more. Another of Pole\u2019s sprees\nwas beginning.\n\n                          (_To be continued._)\n\n\n\n\n                      _When Beauty Is a Fatal Gift_\n\n\nCRAWFORD\u2014It seems to be impossible to convict a pretty woman of a capital\ncrime.\n\nCRABSHAW\u2014It wouldn\u2019t be if they allowed women to serve on the jury.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                              _Still Hope_\n\nJAGGLES\u2014Even the doctors can\u2019t kill off the mosquitoes.\n\nWAGGLES\u2014Perhaps they haven\u2019t tried the same methods they use on the human\nrace.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                           _All for the Best_\n\nSMITH\u2014What do you think of the outcry against the childless rich?\n\nBROWN\u2014I don\u2019t blame them. Look how their children turn out.\n\n\n\n\n                   _How I Dined With President Grant_\n\n                             BY B. F. RILEY\n\n\nIt was in November, 1875. At that time I was a student in Crozer\nTheological Seminary, near Philadelphia. The country was just rallying\nfrom the effects of a long and disastrous war, and as the centenary of\nthe nation would occur the following year, preparations were being made\nfor the celebration of the event by a great exposition, which was to be\nheld the next year in the City of Brotherly Love. This was the first\nof our great American expositions. It will be remembered that this was\ncalled the Centennial Exposition.\n\nGeneral Hawley, now a senator from Connecticut, was made the\nsuperintendent of this first great national undertaking in the way\nof expositions. In order to procure an adequate appropriation from\nCongress, General Hawley and the Centennial Commission conceived the\nplan of bringing to Philadelphia all the dignitaries and celebrities\nfrom Washington. They were to be shown the grounds and the unfinished\nbuildings, as well as the scope of the mammoth undertaking. It was\nfurther proposed that the people of Philadelphia should give a banquet\nto the distinguished visitors from Washington. This banquet was given in\nHorticultural Hall, the only building that was sufficiently completed for\nsuch a function. The sound of thousands of hammers and the swish of many\nsaws resounded throughout the Centennial grounds in Fairmount Park.\n\nA magnificent train was to bring the distinguished guests from\nWashington, and it was to arrive in Philadelphia at a given hour of the\nevening. President Grant and his Cabinet, both branches of Congress and\nthe judges of the Supreme Court were to constitute the excursion. They\nwere of course the guests of the city of Philadelphia, and on their\narrival were driven direct to the hotels. As might naturally be expected,\nsuch an event and occasion set the city all agog, and the Philadelphia\npress was filled with the manner of their coming as well as the purpose.\nPublic excitement ran high, and the excursion was the subject of\nuniversal comment.\n\nAt that time I was an occasional correspondent of two Alabama papers, one\na religious journal and the other a secular one. Aware that this was the\nmost favorable opportunity I should ever have for seeing so many of our\ndistinguished men, I resolved to go to Philadelphia, and, if possible,\ncome into contact with them. No better plan was suggested than to present\nmyself as a member of the press. I imagined that there would not be the\nslightest difficulty in accomplishing this, and that all that was needed\nwas to represent myself as such, and the opportunity sought of mingling\nwith the great would be at once afforded. Decking myself in my best garb,\nwhich was none the better for its long service, I hied away to the city,\nfifteen miles distant, on reaching which the suggestion of a lean purse\nwas followed in going to a cheap boarding-house.\n\nAfter a scanty supper I went to the chief hotels where the great guests\nwere already arriving, bought an evening paper for two cents, and found\nthat a committee of citizens had been appointed to give information to\nall strangers relative to the trip and the banquet of the next day,\nwhich committee was to be known by the red rosettes which they wore. I\nthreaded my way as best I could through the jammed corridors of the\nhotel, jostling with army officers in brilliant uniforms, and elegantly\ndressed statesmen, until one of the committee wearing a rosette was found.\n\nWithout apology, and perhaps in rather an assertive way, I began in a\ndirect manner, telling him who I was, what I was, and what I wanted as\na representative of the Southern press. In reply to his question as to\nwhat papers I represented, I frankly told him, when he asked for my\ncredentials. But these were in the vocative, and so I could produce none.\nHe eyed me very closely and with a distrustful look while I sought to\natone for the absence of credentials by telling him that, being in the\ncity at the time of learning fully of the event, I had not the means of\nobtaining the desired credentials. After hearing my statement he told me\nthat he feared nothing could be done, and bluntly gave me to understand\nthat he could do nothing. Once again I met him in the jam, but he\ndeclined to notice me, of course.\n\nGoing across the street to the other hotel, I mingled with the crowd,\nand came upon two members of the committee standing together. I\npresented my request to them, and they said that they were members\nof the Philadelphia press and gave me a most cordial reception. When\nthey asked for my authority to represent the Southern papers, and I\nhad none, they requested my card, but I had not even a card. They were\nevidently embarrassed, for they showed a willingness to aid me, but\nfound themselves unable to do so. After some courteous explanation they\nexpressed regret at being unable to serve me, and one of them handed me\nhis card and asked me to apply at Centennial headquarters, on Walnut\nStreet, the next morning, at eight o\u2019clock, and said that if anything\ncould be done, they were sure the Commission would be glad to do it.\n\nSome time before eight I was at the Commission headquarters the next\nmorning, and when the doors were opened I strode in, asking for the\ngentleman whose name had been given me the night before, and when I was\npresented to him he looked at me with a gaze of curiosity. I told my\nstory as it had been now several times repeated; he listened with some\nimpatience, and asked for the credentials. He listened to my explanation\nwith a frown, which indicated that he thought me a fraud, and saying\nthat he could do nothing under the circumstances, swung his chair around\nand gave me no more heed, until I more than hinted that perhaps I would\nbe the only correspondent present from the South, and that I felt some\nconsideration was due me, especially if the Commission cared to have the\npeople of the South attend on the forthcoming exposition. The question of\nthe North and South was a sensitive one at that time, and he replied that\nthe South could come if it desired, and suggested that if I wished to\nremain away he did not object. I replied that the South was clearly being\ndiscriminated against in the matter, as representatives of the North were\naccorded the consideration which I sought. He demolished me with a single\nblow when he said that they came properly accredited.\n\nNothing seemed left now but to hasten to the hotels and see what could be\ndone there. I accosted another member of the committee of citizens, but\nin no wise succeeded. Already the carriages were drawn up along the side\nof the street for several blocks, awaiting the pleasure of the visitors\nfrom Washington to go out to Fairmount Park, where the buildings were\ngoing up. Baffled at every point here, I stepped into the street-car\nand reached the park in advance of the procession. Here I met a medical\nstudent from the University of Pennsylvania whom I had met before, and I\ntold him of my ups and downs, very much to his amusement.\n\nI had now practically given up the hope of being thrown with the national\nmagnates, but when they began filing through the great incomplete\nbuildings, and I stood with many others staring at them, without\ndistinguishing one from the other, there came an hour of growing anxiety,\nstronger than before, to know them, at least, by sight. I still felt\nwithin myself that I might succeed in getting into the banquet hall. I\nmentioned it to my companion, who sought to dissuade me from any further\neffort, and said that it was folly to attempt it. But when I saw the\nhorses\u2019 heads turn toward the Horticultural Hall, I bade the medical\nstudent good-bye, and scudded across the park through the cutting\nNovember wind toward Horticultural Hall, fully half a mile away. When I\nreached it, I found it strongly guarded by three cordons of policemen,\nstanding about twenty yards apart, and surrounding the building. This\ndid not inspire much encouragement, and nothing seemed so far away as\nthe possibility of getting into the hall. Meanwhile the carriages were\narriving, and the distinguished guests were alighting, and going rapidly\ninto the hall. An eager crowd of gazers stood near where the carriages\nstopped and were looking for dear life at everyone as he stepped from the\ncarriages. One Congressman raised a loud laugh when he leaped out and\nsaid:\n\n\u201cThat other fellow is Grant!\u201d\n\nWhile I was thinking what I might do next, several members of the\ncommittee wearing rosettes were seen coming toward the hall. With some\ndifficulty I reached them, and the many-times-told tale was repeated\nabout my being a correspondent from the South, to which they listened\nwith interest, and said:\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you go along in?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe policemen,\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cHave you a badge?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d I innocently replied.\n\n\u201cWe are out of them, or we would give you one,\u201d one of the group said.\n\n\u201cCome along with us, and we will take you within the first line and send\nsomeone out to show you in.\u201d\n\nWithin the first line of policemen they left me, promising to see to\nit that I at once be shown in. Several minutes, that seemed hours,\npassed, and apprehensions began to arise that at last I might slip in\nmy arrangements. My anxiety was quickened by a burly Irish policeman\napproaching me with his club, demanding to know what I was doing there.\nI assumed a great deal of courage and replied that one of the committee\nhad left me there on business; and when he threatened to put me out,\nI replied rather stoutly that he might get himself into trouble by\ntinkering with the official matters of the commission. He used some ugly\nlanguage, and said that he knew his business, and that he would let me\nstay only a few minutes longer and turned away on his beat. He again\napproached me and hinted that I had misled him by my statement, and that\nI must \u201cget out right away.\u201d\n\nJust at that moment a gentleman wearing a rosette, and one whom I had\nnot before seen, appeared at the entrance of the hall and was giving\nsome directions to policemen about the door, when I hailed him rather\nunceremoniously and laughingly told him that I was in a fix and he\nmust help me out, that I was where the owl had the hen, where I could\nneither back nor squall. His face was a perfect interrogation point as he\napproached me, and he evidently thought fast while I told him that this\nwas a funny predicament for a correspondent to be in. He listened to me\nthroughout and said:\n\n\u201cWhy, yes, this will never do,\u201d and, laying his hand on my shoulder, led\nme within the first door, and sent someone for somebody else to escort me\ninto the banquet hall.\n\nA gentleman soon appeared on the scene and asked for that correspondent\nwho wanted to get in. I told him I was the one, and he took my arm and\nled me straight into the hall of banquet. As I passed through suddenly\nI came wellnigh coming into collision with President Grant, who was\nstanding over a grate warming his feet. He stared at me as though he was\nafraid I might run over him, and I caught a snatch of a conversation\nbetween himself and another gentleman, who was obviously twitting\nthe President on the size of his feet by relating an anecdote of a\nCongressman on the streets of Washington, who was trying to trade with\na bootblack for a polish, and the shiner of shoes said that the job was\nsuch a big one he would have to take it by separate contracts. At this\nbit of pleasantry Grant grimly smiled and said nothing.\n\nThe improvised banquet hall was a scene of splendor. The walls were\nfestooned with flags and bunting and pictures, and the floors at the base\nof the walls were adorned with flowers and evergreens, while the long\ntables were covered with gold and silver plate, cut-glass and branching\ngolden candelabra. Running parallel with the wall on the left, on a\nraised platform, was a long table with sumptuous adornments stretching\nat right angles to the tables below. The seats of this elevated table\nfronted those occupying the seats on the floor. Immediately in the centre\nof the table was the chair in which John Hancock sat when he presided\nover the convention which adopted the Declaration of Independence. This\nantique and high-backed piece of furniture was overhung with silken\nbanners woven into appropriate designs and a field of stars. This was\nthe seat provided for the President. Just in front of him was an immense\nsilver laver filled with perfumes, while in the centre was a beautifully\ndressed roasted pig.\n\nWhen the band began playing the guests took their seats, and I sat on\nthe seat within easiest reach. When I looked over the hall I saw that I\nwas the only one without a badge or decoration of some sort. Luckily for\nme I had a seat near a Congressman from Arkansas, a gentleman who had\nbeen a Confederate brigadier. He was warm in his greetings to a young\nSoutherner and took great pains to point out to me the most distinguished\nof the guests. While we were admiring the dainty souvenirs a negro\nwaiter borrowed one of mine, promising to return it soon, and when he\ndisappeared the Congressman said:\n\n\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have allowed that rascal to fool you; he is not going to\nbring that back, but wants it for someone else.\u201d\n\nHe was correct, for I haven\u2019t seen the negro waiter since.\n\nThe banquet lasted more than an hour, and the effects of the champagne\nwere soon manifest from the increased boisterousness of the guests. So\nfar as I could observe, I was the only one who declined the wine. When\nthe cigars were passed the guests dived their hands deep into the boxes\nand took hands full and filled their pockets. As I did not smoke, I took\nmine to the boys at the seminary who did.\n\nThe banquet being over, the toasts began. After a neat speech by the\ntoastmaster, he announced the first toast: \u201cThe President of the United\nStates.\u201d\n\nIt was intended that this should be responded to by Grant, but he sat as\nunmoved as a statue. Cheer after cheer rang out, and Grant was called\nfor in deafening chorus, but he was imperturbable still. My Congressman\nneighbor remarked in a whisper:\n\n\u201cNow, wouldn\u2019t I feel ashamed to be unable to say a word in response to\nsuch a demonstration as this!\u201d\n\nAs the President would not reply, the other toasts were responded to by\nChief Justice Waite, the historian Bancroft, James G. Blaine, Senator\nOliver P. Morton and one or two others of less distinction.\n\nThe scene ended amid vociferous songs, oaths and other expressions of\ndrunken disorder, which were not calculated to inspire much respect in\nthe young theological student for the law-makers and statesmen of the\ncountry.\n\nMaking my way out of the hall, I found that it was already dark on the\noutside. I boarded a street-car and was soon on board a train going\ntoward Crozer, and at nine o\u2019clock was in my room surrounded by a host of\nthe boys, to whom I related the experiences of the day, while the smokers\nin the crowd smoked my fine cigars.\n\nAnd that is the way I dined with President Grant.\n\n\n\n\n                     _The New York Children\u2019s Court_\n\n                         BY HON. JOSEPH M. DEUEL\n  _Author of the legislation creating the Court and a Justice therein_\n\n\nA tribunal with an age-limit for jurisdiction is a modern innovation. For\ntwo years one of that character has been passing through an experimental\nstage in the city of New York. It has fully justified its creation. It is\nexperimental still, in the sense that two years have been insufficient to\nexploit all its useful possibilities. They are illimitable. More than any\nin the world, the success of this Court depends upon the personality of\nthe individual who wields its powers; and, however capable, resourceful\nand aspiring, he cannot be eminently successful unless back of him stands\na strong, healthy and encouraging public sentiment. This is rapidly\ndeveloping as parents come to know that each justice is a willing and\nenthusiastic ally, ready at all times to join heartily with them to\ncorrect and encourage the boy or girl who has been tempted to go wrong,\nrather than an ordinary minister of justice who measures each infraction\nof law with statutory precision.\n\nWhen it is widely known that the primary object is not one of punishment,\nbut of municipal and communal salvage, its possibilities for good will\nbe greatly enhanced. No one has ever sat with its presiding justice\nthrough an entire session without some expression of satisfaction with\nthe Court and the controlling policy in dealing with wayward youth. Said\na minister of the Gospel recently, at the close of a forenoon session:\n\u201cYou are doing more good than all the ministers in the city.\u201d This\nexaggerated commendation is cited simply to show that the experimental\nstage cannot be on the wrong tack when, after careful observation, men\nof intelligence give utterance to such convictions. But every member\nof the community cannot see and judge for himself, and this article is\ndesigned to give to all a correct idea of the Court, why created, and\nits policy in dealing with offenders. Many strangers, upon information\nnot first-hand, have been somewhat severe in criticism of a supposed\nsentimental leniency; they have become warm supporters when brought into\nclose range with its operations.\n\nNo useful purpose will be served by tracing the origin of the Court or\nsingling out and naming those who were instrumental in its creation. It\ncame naturally by the process of evolution in the matter of juvenile\nlegislation. Its advent was timely, for our civic conditions, three\nyears ago, were breeding criminals more rapidly than at any other time\nin our history; and a court to deal solely with the source of criminal\nsupply was imperatively demanded. One of the strongest arguments at\nAlbany for the bill was based upon these conditions, and it was urged\nthat when fairly in progress the prophylactic value of the Court would be\nmanifested in a reduced crime rate for the city.\n\nNo one then anticipated the volume and character of immigrants that have\nsince deluged our ports. Parents with large families of growing children\nhave edged into overcrowded tenement centres, where their native tongue\nis almost exclusively spoken, and have produced unwholesome social\nconditions, that destroy the American theory of home, by packing men,\nwomen and children into one or two small and ill-ventilated rooms. They\nare without means of subsistence. The market demand for their labor is\nalready supplied. No employment at wages can be found, and, however\nabundant in that respect may be the prospects in other localities,\nhere the parents find themselves, and here they insist on staying and\ntaking chances. Children swarm the streets, not only to get sunlight\nand air, but to pick up pennies, from whatever source available, to pay\nrent and buy food. And they are to become American citizens under such\ncircumstances.\n\nThe fault is not with parents, who are lured here by golden hopes,\nheld before them by competing transportation agents, but is with the\ngovernmental policy that permits immigration to go on without intelligent\ndirection. Possibly these people cannot be induced to go to parts of the\ncountry where there is a demand for the kind of labor they can give, but\ntheir crowding into New York is working endless mischief in the men and\nwomen produced.\n\nThe records show that boys and girls who have lived here but a short\ntime, many less than a year, others one, two and three years, get into\ndifficulties and find their way to the Children\u2019s Court, some for\nserious crimes and others for contravening state or local regulations\nof which both parents and child are ignorant. The child stays away from\nschool to peddle, or beg, or get money in other ways, and, if he or\nshe succeeds in evading the police, is hunted by a truant officer or\nruns foul of a \u201cGerry\u201d agent. Be the infractions serious or trifling,\nthey add materially to the volume of child prisoners, swell the inmates\nof reformatories, increase the expense of city government and furnish\nmaterial for keeping up the army of criminals.\n\nDr. David Blaustein estimates that the square mile of territory bounded\nby the Bowery, Mangin, East Houston and Cherry Streets contains a Jewish\npopulation of 350,000, largely composed of Russian immigrants. If it\ncontained no other races there would be a superficial area for light,\nventilation, business, recreation and living less than three yards square\nfor each individual. Now for results. Mr. Coulter, Deputy Clerk of the\nChildren\u2019s Court, in a published article recently stated that twenty-six\nper cent. of child prisoners were of Russian parents, ninety-eight per\ncent. of them coming from the lower East Side and the largest majority\nfrom the square mile above mentioned.\n\nThe Italian contingent is estimated at 400,000, which yields twenty-four\nper cent. of the juvenile arrests. Russian and Italian immigrants have a\npredilection for hiving like bees rather than for living like Americans.\nThey have no inclination to go to those parts of the city where room,\nlight and ventilation are in abundance, but select a locality where\nothers speaking the same tongue have settled. Then begins the crowding\nprocess which drives other races from the neighborhood. Children run wild\nin the streets, form undesirable associations and become easy victims\nto rapacious Fagins everywhere abounding. The parents do not learn our\nlanguage with any degree of efficiency, and acquire slight knowledge\nof our government, its policies or ideals. Instances occur daily of\nwitnesses that have lived here fifteen to twenty years who require an\nofficial interpreter to give testimony.\n\nRussian and Italian nationalities furnish more than half of the business\nof the Children\u2019s Court. It is not wholly racial, because ordinarily the\nJew is devoted to his family, is law abiding and is not prone to active\ncrime. Upon this point Mr. Coulter calls attention to the fact that\nwith an estimated population of 75,000 Jews in the Bronx that borough\nfurnishes but few juvenile criminals of this race. He might have added\nthat such as came were of a mischievous or trivial character except\nwhen boys from the congested centres made predatory excursions to that\nneighborhood.\n\nThe statistics gathered at the Court do not furnish data from which\nto compute the length of time delinquents have been in the city. This\nis generally brought out in the course of trial or investigation. I\nhave before me the trial record of several cases of recent occurrence.\nIn December last Mrs. Rosie Rosenthal, of No. 329 Stanton street,\nbrought Isidore Weinstein into Court and asked that he be committed as\nincorrigible and ungovernable. In the course of the proceedings it was\ndeveloped that the boy was so bad at home in Hungary that his parents\nsent him here to get rid of him. He came in September, 1904, with a man\nliving in Nashville, Tenn., stopped one night with the aunt and then\nwent South. Six weeks later the man shipped the boy back to the aunt\nbecause he was hopeless. Instead of committing him to an institution at\nan expense of two dollars a week to the taxpayers, the whole power and\ninfluence of the Court were bent on having him returned to Europe.\n\nAnother case was Robert Pries, who pleaded guilty, January 13, to\nstealing jewelry valued at one hundred and fifty dollars from a guest in\na city hotel where the boy was employed. He came from Germany alone last\nAugust and had no relatives in this country. He had been a bell-boy at\nthe hotel three days and used a pass key to commit the offense.\n\nRaffael Basignano, illegitimate, came from Italy last July with a friend.\nHe was brought up in San Malino by a woman, not his mother, known as\nPhilomena. She came here, settled at Flushing and then sent money to pay\nhis passage. She died before his arrival; he drifted to New York, and\nthen reached the Children\u2019s Court. Efforts to deport these last two are\nin progress.\n\nThese are types of many coming to this Court for disposition. Taken\nin connection with the localities whence comes the largest amount of\nbusiness, it may be concluded that two factors are producing prisoners\nto an extent dangerously menacing the future good order of this city:\nImmigration laws and congested tenement centres. If there be any fault\nwith the former or in their administration the remedy lies with Congress;\nas to defects in the latter we must look both to Albany and the local\ngovernment for relief. The Children\u2019s Court is battling against odds not\nanticipated when created, and with creditable success. Scarcely a session\npasses without definite results, and a parole day never goes by without\nsome demonstration of the Court\u2019s usefulness.\n\nWhen the bill to create the Court was pending, its theoretical value\nhad to be appraised by contrast with the system to be displaced. Its\npractical value is better understood by the same method. In fact, no\ntrue conception of its potency and usefulness otherwise can be realized.\nFormerly all children charged with crime, delinquency, want of proper\nguardianship or found in a state of destitution were taken to the various\npolice courts. In the matter of guardianship, destitution and some of the\nminor offenses the magistrates had power to hear and determine. In cases\nof felony and misdemeanor the police court was simply a sieve to separate\nthose crimes and to send the former to General Sessions and the latter\nto Special Sessions for trial. In General Sessions the cases had to be\nsubmitted to a grand jury and, if indicted, a trial followed before a\npetty jury.\n\nThere were discouraging delays. Few were indicted and scarcely any\nconvicted. Those youthful offenders on returning home unscathed became\nheroes in the estimation of companions; in their own minds they were\nimmune to punishment because of superior skill and deftness. They did\nnot understand that escape was due to sympathy. Each became a missionary\nin crime to corrupt others; became a chief of admiring associates and\nspent his time and energy in devising methods of pillage and robbery.\nIn consequence organized bands of youthful desperadoes sprang up in\nvarious parts of the city which were known as \u201cde gang.\u201d A vicious boy\nwith goodly sums of money in his pockets to flash before and spend upon\nimpecunious associates can do more moral damage in a week than Sunday\nschools can correct in a year.\n\nTen years ago pickpockets in the teens were a rarity; a few years later\nfrequent arrests made the subject somewhat conspicuous; in 1900 the\narraignment of several in one day in the Essex Market Court was quite\nusual. Several youngsters acted in concert, each performed some important\npart in the process, and all shared in the spoils: a small percentage\nsatisfied the younger lads who had slight experience in handling money.\nReady money for theatres and cigarettes, besides something to quiet\nparental inquisitiveness, is an alluring bait to a child with slight\nmoral supervision and guidance\u2014far more fascinating than hard work or\nschool drudgery and with promises of more freedom and luxury. And it is\nsuch a simple matter to deceive unsuspecting parents who are unable to\nspeak our language. Besides, the young culprit knows how to weave fairy\ntales about some alleged employer that head off all investigations.\n\nIt is charitable to assume that confiding parents in their simple\ntrustfulness have no conception of the temptations to which their\nchildren are subjected, but the facts far too frequently indicate supreme\nindifference. I have known fathers of girls just verging into womanhood\nto appear in Court and testify that a disorderly house next door, or in\nthe same building one flight down, was not a nuisance. A father of this\ncharacter whose child, boy or girl brings home money never cares to know\nits source. If the money comes no questions are asked, or, if asked, the\nanswers are never verified.\n\nThis kind of parent is typical of many now coming here, and it is he\nor she whose progeny furnishes business for the Children\u2019s Court and\nrecruits for the criminal ranks. The youngster having started in with\nsome weekly amount to carry home had to maintain it. If it was not\navailable when Saturday came desperate chances were taken which often\nresulted in detection and arrest. But conviction and punishment were\nrare. Fagins multiplied and recruits were plentiful. Picking pockets with\nso many pickers at work was a little overdone and larceny in all its\nforms was studied and operated. We soon had the youthful burglar, highway\nrobber, forger, till-tapper, wagon thief and pilfering employee.\n\nThe old system was making no headway against crime, for the simple reason\nthat it did not effectively operate against the source and lacked the\nrequisite machinery for dealing therewith. Sympathetic leniency was too\nprevalent; the time and thought of judges were taken up with adult cases;\nlittle attention could be given to restraint and supervision. Even if\nthese judges had the time and the inclination they were powerless because\ngrand jurors failed to indict and petty jurors could not be persuaded to\nconvict.\n\nOnly recently a grand juror, speaking of his work, criticized a\nmagistrate for sending a boy of seventeen to trial for larceny because\nthe amount stolen was but a few dollars; it did not dawn upon him that\nthe boy was not at fault for stealing so little; he probably took all he\ncould. It is the thieving propensity in the young, not the amount stolen,\nthat most vitally concerns the community. The amount, by statute and by\nCourt custom, is one factor in admeasuring sentence in adult cases; with\njuveniles it is inconsequential, and in no way decisive of treatment\nafter conviction. This is the spirit of the law also that permits\nfelonious acts to be tried as misdemeanors if committed by children under\nsixteen.\n\nTreatment wisely can be determined only with some insight of the boy\u2019s\ndisposition, knowledge of his tendencies and information of home\nenvironment. In other words, thieving to some extent is a preventable\nevil, and the treatment several boys should have may vary as much as a\nphysician\u2019s prescriptions among an equal number afflicted with a like\nphysical ailment. The old judicial plan, as it had continued for years,\nsent the youngster home without a reprimand or a warning, kept it up\nuntil all too late a hardened and confirmed criminal was the result,\nand upon him were visited punitive and vindictive powers. Criminal\npropensities are akin to physical appetites in that they become habits\nby indulgence. It is easier to keep a boy from smoking cigarettes than\nto break him of the habit after long practice. On the same principle a\nyouthful offender may be checked much easier than a hardened criminal can\nbe redeemed.\n\nSuch were the conditions when the Children\u2019s Court was created, and such\nwere the principles upon which it was founded. It has been in existence\nand operation since September 2, 1902. Its policies, plans and methods,\nwhile not perfect, stand in refreshing and encouraging contrast to\nthose that preceded, and it is exerting power and influence that may be\nmeasured with some degree of accuracy and satisfaction.\n\nInstead of delay ending in failures, we have promptness bringing results.\nChildren are not lugged from court to court, often going to each several\ntimes before a hearing; they come up for trial not later than the day\nfollowing arrest, and they do not have to return unless convicted; even\nthen many are permitted to go home with some sense of what they have\ndone, the reasons making it objectionable and the consequences sure to\nfollow a repetition. The quickness with which conviction follows the\ncommission of an offense is of the highest importance; especially if it\nbe a serious crime, such as larceny, burglary, etc. It is one of the\nCourt\u2019s most valuable assets.\n\nThere is a total suppression of sympathy or sentiment during trial.\nThe prisoner is arraigned, the charge is explained and then he or she\nmust plead guilty or not guilty. Each has the benefit of counsel\u2014if\nnot employed by a parent the Court invariably assigns one; the trial\nproceeds at once if the plea is \u201cnot guilty,\u201d and at its close comes\nacquittal or conviction. During all this time a dispassionate and\nmethodical inquiry is pursued by strict legal methods, in which the\nprisoner has the advantage of every technicality known to criminal\npractice. The justice presiding is both judge and jury. He has absolute\ncontrol over future proceedings; if there be a conviction, therefore, he\ndivests himself entirely of pity or prejudice. With him it is simply the\nelucidation of facts by strict legal evidence and reaching a conclusion\nthat is logical and just. There are objections and rulings, demurrers\nto pleadings, motions for new trials and motions in arrest of judgment.\nFrequently some bright boy defendant watches the progress of the trial\nwith interest and learns something which, never injurious, may be of\nadvantage. The sad and possibly harmful thing is that he is on trial for\na crime; and yet that one feature may save him from a disastrous career.\n\nThe time for pity, sympathy and sentiment on the part of the justice\ncomes when he pronounces the defendant guilty. Then the character and\nattitude of the man upon the bench undergo a complete change, for a\nduty far transcending that of weighing facts and reaching conclusions\nnow devolves upon him. This duty is to determine what to do with the\nyoungster who has been convicted, and upon this question the greatest\nmistakes may be made; it is the one that weighs most heavily on the\nconscience of the Court and is the most perplexing to the judicial mind.\n\nThe controlling principle in the solution is, what is best for the boy\nis best for society; he must either be committed to some reformatory\npresided over by persons of like religious faith as the parents, or he\nmust be permitted to return home. Either course may be dangerous. To\ncommit may blast his future; to release may be iniquitous to him and\na positive menace to others. In order to decide the judge must learn\nall that is possible about the individual; his habits, disposition,\nassociations, reputation, home environment and previous record. If the\nboy attends school his record there is obtained; if at work the opinion\nof the employer is sought, but in a way not to produce injury. Happily\nthe law upon this subject permits the Court to get information through\nany channel, not even gossip, rumor or hearsay is excluded. In many cases\nseveral days are necessary to gather the material upon which the Court\nfinally acts.\n\nThe majority of the cases do not require postponement for this purpose.\nThe records of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children are\nso complete and instantly available as to enable us to know at the close\nof the trial whether there has been a previous conviction, which is of\nthe first importance. If there be none, a suspended sentence or a parole\ngenerally follows, for it is believed that with the majority better\nresults are obtainable through fear under freedom than by discipline\nunder restraint.\n\nThere is a misunderstanding in the public mind, and unfortunately with\nsome of the police officers, as to \u201csuspended sentence.\u201d It means that\ncriminal punishment is not then inflicted, but may be the following\nweek or month or some time thereafter, but will not be so long as the\nyoungster is of good behavior. The boys understand that they will not be\nmolested so long as no bad report reaches the Court, and the most of them\nact accordingly. Quite recently several on parole for engaging in street\nstone fights were separately asked what they did during the epidemic of\nstone battles that broke out in January. They replied that they ran home\nand stayed there while the fight lasted. A suspended sentence is quite\napt to work in the same way with most boys, for a second conviction would\nsurely disclose the former, and punishment then is severe.\n\nOccasionally a boy is sent to an institution on his first conviction as a\nsafeguard against parents whose depravity and shameless indifference are\npositively detrimental, and sometimes a child is permitted to go home\nand remain so long as the mother avoids drink. Good work has been done in\nboth directions\u2014the boy removed from iniquitous surroundings, or these\nmended through parental affection.\n\nA child is rarely committed for the first offense, no matter how serious\nit may be; there is a remand to the Society for its officers to gather\nand report information of the individual and environment, and then\nsentence is deferred and the child put on parole. He goes home with an\nopportunity to earn a suspended sentence by his individual conduct, which\ncovers a wide range. It is intended to correct every bad trait; evil\nassociations are to be avoided; staying away from home nights must cease;\nconduct everywhere\u2014in the house, on the streets and at school\u2014must be\nexemplary. During this time he is under the supervision of the parole\nofficer, to whom there must be a report each week and at the end of the\nperiod\u2014four, five or six weeks\u2014appearance and report in Court. If a\nhigh standard of excellence is reached, sentence is suspended; if there\nis improvement, parole is continued; if the boy continues in his old\nways, sentence is imposed, or there may be a short parole with certain\ncommitment at the end if a radical change is not shown.\n\nBy these means the boy sees that others are interested in his welfare,\nand he gets encouragement in all directions, for neighbors, noting the\nchange, treat him accordingly. Frequently he gets sufficient satisfaction\nout of the experience to determine that he will continue in the same way,\nand in all cases he learns what he can do by exercising self-control; it\nnever works harm and often produces most gratifying results. I mention a\nfew as indicative of many within the experience of every justice holding\nthe Court.\n\nIn October last a widow had her only child, a boy of fourteen, taken\ninto custody by the police for absolute incorrigibility; he stayed out\nnights, associated with bad companions, would not work and was rude and\ninsolent. On the following morning the mother appeared in Court to press\nthe charge under oath and insisted that the boy be committed forthwith.\nThe usual practice was followed; the boy was remanded to the Society and\nan investigation ordered; the report confirmed everything the mother\nhad alleged, and the few days of separation had in no way changed her\ndetermination to have the boy committed, for, as she declared, she was\ncompletely discouraged, and he was past redemption. Something about the\nboy led me in the opposite direction and I said to her, \u201cI think we had\nbetter give this young man just one more chance,\u201d and, turning to him, I\nsaid, \u201cDon\u2019t you think so, my boy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Judge,\u201d was the quick response.\n\nAfter some conversation with the mother, who finally relented, a five\nweeks\u2019 parole was ordered. On the return day both were in Court. The\nboy, tidy in appearance, stood erect and looked me manfully in the eye\nas he took his place before the bench. The parole officer\u2019s report, in\nwriting, told me that immediately following parole the boy had secured a\nposition in a hardware store, and by industry, attention and intelligence\nhad obtained a voluntary promise of increased wages; that he had spent\nhis evenings, during parole, at home, which the mother confirmed and with\nmoistened eyes she added:\n\n\u201cI could not ask for a better boy, and we are both happy.\u201d The boy\nhad found what he could do by trying, and was satisfied. It would be\ndifficult to determine which was the prouder and happier, the mother or\nson, as they left Court together.\n\nA disorderly boy at school, and an habitual truant, coming up for\ncommitment asked me to try him on parole. He came back a month later\nwith a school certificate of 100 per cent. in attendance and deportment.\nA father brought his boy of fourteen to Court for commitment because of\nprolonged disobedience, which could not be corrected by chastening; he\nwas a nuisance in the neighborhood and the complaints sent to the house\nhad utterly destroyed paternal confidence. He was put on parole against\nthe father\u2019s protest. A month later the father reported a satisfactory\nchange, which, as the parole officer\u2019s report stated, had been noticed by\nthe neighbors. On request the parole was continued for a month, when the\nreport of father and parole officer showed almost perfect conduct. On the\nfather\u2019s special request the parole period was extended two months. While\nthese are exceptional cases they are by no means rare.\n\nFrom this extreme there is a gradual shading downward to the point\nof absolute hopelessness, when the subject is turned over to the\ndisciplinary methods of a reformatory. During the year 1904 out of 1,098\nparoles 170, or 15\u00bd per cent., were subsequently committed, which shows\nsatisfactory results of 84\u00bd per cent. Nineteen hundred and three was a\ntrifle better with its 1,117 paroles, of which 13\u2155 per cent. refused to\nbe benefited. But if one-half of the lads can be redeemed or kept within\nreasonable bounds during character formative period, the Court will prove\na success, and intelligent citizens will regard the parole system as\nworthy of continuance and extension. It is harmful to none and gives each\na fair chance to test self-reliance and manhood; it does not injure the\nboy past redemption, but simply postpones commitment, and is a wholesome\ndemonstration to him that his misfortune is of his own choosing.\n\nThe boys generally understand that but one chance can be expected, and\ncoming back a second time on a serious charge the benefit of parole\nwill be withheld. This is not an inflexible rule. If there are good\nprospects a second or even a third parole would not be refused. But there\nmust be more than mere possibility to secure a second and exceedingly\nstrong assurances for a third parole. One good test of its beneficence\nis the frequency with which parents ask that it be extended rather than\nterminated; always on the same ground that the boy is better behaved at\nhome and at school, and is more careful of his associations.\n\nThere is another factor that gives the boys considerable worry and\nserves somewhat as a deterrent: the \u201cGerry Society,\u201d with its complete\nup-to-date record running back for thirty years. When the time comes for\npronouncing judgment a Society representative\u2014one or more always being in\nCourt\u2014is called upon for the record of the boy and his family. This is\ngiven in his presence, and sometimes involves older brothers or sisters.\nSo that the youngster goes out of Court convinced that it is impossible\nto hide any misdeed. The services of the Society and its officers are of\ninestimable value in the conduct of this Court.\n\nA feature of the Court which would occur only to one who is a frequent\nvisitor and careful observer of its proceedings is that of a practical\nkindergarten in civics to those most in need of instruction. As to\noffenses involving moral turpitude\u2014larceny, burglary, picking pockets,\netc.\u2014the child and the parents know the act is wrong and why it calls\nfor arrest and punishment. But this is not true of a great many arrests;\npossibly one-third of those made during any year. There are many acts\nforbidden in a crowded city that would be unobjectionable elsewhere. An\narrest is sure to bring to the Court a surprised and indignant parent.\nSuch acts come under the classification _mala prohibita_ and include\nbonfires, ball playing, craps, cat, throwing missiles, jumping on and off\nstreet cars, truancy, peddling, etc. It is for the justice to explain why\nthe act is condemned and forbidden.\n\nBonfires may be taken as an illustration. Many arrests were made on the\nday of the last election, and each boy confessed that the fires were\npolitical. The boys assiduously gather fuel for days in advance and will\nburn it election night, whoever is elected. The lads were commended for\npolitical zeal, and were asked whether they wanted to become good or\nbad politicians. The answer, of course, was \u201cgood,\u201d and then they were\ninformed that they had started out wrong, because a good politician\nalways studied how to save the people from needless expense; that fires\non asphalt pavement ruin an area that may require twenty-five, fifty or a\nhundred dollars to repair, which has to be raised by taxation, and some\nportion of it each individual boy or man must pay either directly as a\nproperty owner or indirectly in the increased cost of rent, clothing,\nfuel, groceries and other purchases. Other matters are explained on\nsimilar lines, and often the eyes of some youngster will brighten as the\nexplanation proceeds and at its close he will say, \u201cI didn\u2019t know it\nwas so bad; I\u2019ll never do it again.\u201d Such a boy rarely comes back on a\nsecond charge. These explanations are not made purely for instruction,\nbut to inform the child that behind all law interdicting ordinary acts\nthere are good reasons and to state them so as to come within youthful\ncomprehension.\n\nThe child is not the only beneficiary, for the English-speaking parent\nabsorbs some of the information, and each goes away knowing why it is\nunlawful to build bonfires, play crap or ball, or do other things which\nresult in arrest. When time permits, the non-English-speaking parent\ngets his information on these topics through the official interpreter.\nTo punish a child, or through him the parent, for an act when neither\nunderstands why it is forbidden, is extremely distasteful; but such\ninstances occur, and punishment is inflicted because it is the only\nmethod for impressing clearly on their minds that the act must not be\nrepeated.\n\nThus far boys only have been mentioned; but a like method of treatment\napplies to girls whenever there is occasion, which is not often.\nFortunately for the world in general and this city in particular,\nthe female sex is far less prone to crime and venality. This is\nspecially prominent in the Children\u2019s Court, for, eliminating improper\nguardianship\u2014neither boy nor girl being responsible therefor\u2014girl\nprisoners constituted but four per cent. of the cases. In the police\ncourts women make up twenty per cent. of arrests. There were but\nthirty-eight girl defendants in a total of 1,055 larcenies, six in a\ntotal of 2,870 disorderly conduct cases, two in the 50 robberies, two in\n197 assaults, two in the 346 burglaries; of the three attempts at suicide\nall were girls. It may truthfully be said that womankind is the crowning\nglory of the race and the sheet-anchor of progressive civilization.\n\nMuch time is consumed with questions of improper guardianship, of which\nduring the year there were 1,983 cases; during 1903, 1,582. These\ncomplaints are rapidly increasing, partially because of ignorant and\nindifferent aliens. But the machinery for dealing with such matters is\nso much better than formerly existed that more attention is given to\nthe subject. During the year preceding the establishment of this Court\nthere were but 539 such cases in the seven City Magistrates\u2019 courts of\nthis division. There is greater firmness in dealing with them than with\nsome transgression of the child. While the subject of inquiry is under\nsixteen years of age the cases practically are of parental adjudication;\nthe fathers and mothers are on trial, and it is one or the other that\nis disciplined if the complaint is well founded. If the evil be drink,\nwhich is true as to many of the cases, it sometimes may be overcome if\nparental affection and desire to retain custody of the child are well\ndeveloped; if in surroundings coming within parental means to correct\nor in restraint and supervision which parents neglect to exercise, the\nobjection is overcome with most parents by a warning. While testing\nsincerity and ability the child is permitted to remain at home. In this\nway children are given approximately fair opportunity to develop proper\nand becoming tendencies. The world would be tremendously shocked if it\ncould know how many of its criminals, paupers and vagrants are caused\nprimarily by home environment and improper parental conduct.\n\nA short time since a visitors\u2019 book was opened at the Court and in it\nthose who remained long enough to form an opinion have given expression\nthereto. In closing I append the following excerpts:\n\n\u201cA life-saving station\u201d; Morris K. Jesup, president New York Chamber\nof Commerce. \u201cProfoundly impressed with an institution in which there\nis the highest promise\u201d; Bishop Henry C. Potter. \u201cIt does one good to\nappreciate how great an advance has been made as is evidenced by such\ncourts\u201d; Seth Low, ex-Mayor of New York. \u201cThe spirit of Christianity\npractically expressed\u201d; Rev. Wm. C. Bittings. \u201cA most pathetic and\ninteresting scene\u201d; R. Fulton Cutting. \u201cA superb illustration of\nsanctified common sense and of applied religion\u201d; Rev. R. S. MacArthur.\n\u201cThe Court is doing most excellent work\u201d; George L. Rives, ex-Corporation\nCounsel. \u201cA practical application of justice and Christian charity\u201d; Dr.\nNorman Fox, ex-Mayor of Morristown. \u201cImpressed by the hopefulness of\nthe Children\u2019s Court\u201d; Adolf Hartmann, Berlin. \u201cThe best work is always\nthe preventative work\u201d; Rev. W. Merle Smith. \u201cOne of the best of the\ncity\u2019s methods of improving the conditions of the future citizens of\nNew York\u201d; Chas. R. Lamb. \u201cA long step in advance in social progress\u201d;\nRev. Gaylord S. White. \u201cThis Court should be better understood\u201d; Wm. T.\nWoods. \u201cThe work this Court is doing in sustaining the discipline of the\nDepartment of Education is invaluable\u201d; Frank H. Partridge. Hon. Jacob\nH. Schiff, Rev. Rufus P. Johnston, Rev. E. S. Holloway and several other\nwell-known citizens have visited the Court since the book was opened, but\nunfortunately their entries are so mixed with personal compliment as to\nmake reproduction here inappropriate.\n\nArguments on behalf of the Court from those officially interested in\nits success are not needed when its ordinary sessions call forth such\ncommendations from representative men.\n\n\n\n\n                      _What Buzz-Saw Morgan Thinks_\n\n                             BY W. S. MORGAN\n\n\nMuch of our modern civilization is nothing more than refined savagery.\n\nThe yellow metal kills more people than the yellow fever.\n\nHarmony is simply stopping the wheels of progress to get rid of the noise.\n\nSaying that a thing is settled does not settle it.\n\nAll old party roads lead workingmen to roam.\n\nShall our financial system be American or British?\n\nDon\u2019t surrender until you see the size of the enemy\u2014and then don\u2019t\nsurrender.\n\nA man must open his eyes in order to see even as bright an object as the\nsun.\n\nCorruption in the best form of government makes it the worst of all.\n\nThe trusts owe their existence to yellow-dog politics.\n\nWith the control of the currency turned over to the bankers, it will be\nin order to allow the hawks to feed the chickens.\n\nThe independent vote is a nightmare to the yellow-dog politician.\n\nThe Beef Trust is living in constant defiance of the law. It is a greater\nmenace to the rights of the people than a thousand highwaymen.\n\nDemocratic statesmanship has gone to seed, and the seed has germinated\ninto a howl.\n\nJefferson and Jackson placed the mark of Cain on bank money, and the\nbankers have never been able to remove it.\n\nThe men who talk the most about \u201csound money\u201d and the \u201cnation\u2019s honor\u201d\nare the greatest tax-dodgers.\n\nTake the corporation lawyers out of the important offices in this\ncountry and about two-thirds of them would be vacant.\n\nThe banker has no more right to regulate the quantity of currency that\nshall be used by the people than he has to limit the number of cattle\nthat shall be raised.\n\nEnforced poverty is taking many a man out of the ranks of yellow-dog\npolitics and making an independent voter out of him.\n\nIt always gives me a pain in the left hind foot to hear a man who wears\na hoot-owl look on his face, a quid of tobacco in his mouth and a\ndouble-barrel patch on the bosom of his pants talk about \u201cmoney that is\ngood in Yurrop.\u201d\n\nAbout the only thing that Bryan can reorganize out of the Democratic\nParty is a bob-tail flush, and that is just what the Republicans want him\nto do.\n\nA stand-patter is a fellow who is too lazy to move, or who has plenty of\nfeed in his own trough and doesn\u2019t care for anyone else.\n\nThe Beef Trust might possibly make good its plea of innocence, were it\nnot for the fact that it has been \u201ccaught with the goods.\u201d\n\nThe cotton growers who met in New Orleans in January decided that the\nWall Street \u201cbear\u201d was worse than the Texas weevil.\n\nYellow-dog politics is the spirit that moves a man to ride to hell in\na two-wheel cart drawn by the Democratic mule or Republican elephant,\nrather than to go to heaven by the independent route.\n\nIt is gratifying to know that a real effort is being made to \u201ccontrol\u201d\nthe railroads. The failure of such an effort is the best evidence that\nit can\u2019t be done. Then will come public ownership.\n\nThe government has no more right to farm out to the bankers the privilege\nof issuing money than it has to grant to a few rich farmers the exclusive\nprivilege of breeding short-horn cattle.\n\nIt is said that gold furnishes a stable currency, but history teaches\nthat it is the most cowardly money ever used. In time of war, when it is\nneeded most, it hides itself and paper money fights the battles.\n\nThe glory of war is a relic of barbarism. It differs only in form from\nthe ghoulish dances of the aborigines, or the fiend-like performances of\nthe Dervishes. \u201cWar is hell.\u201d Its spirit is of the devil. Nine-tenths of\nthe wars could be avoided. They are caused by the selfishness of man.\n\nIn this day of progress and invention no man can define radicalism. That\nwhich appears radical today is conservative tomorrow. The leaven of a\nhigher and better civilization is working in the hearts of the people,\nand the day of emancipation from false systems draws near.\n\nIn the past ten years in this country the railroads have killed and\ncrippled more people than all the wars in which this government was\never engaged. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, and then howl against\ngovernment ownership.\n\nIt is urged that the greenbacks should be retired, because they\nconstitute an \u201cendless chain\u201d to deplete the gold reserve in the\nTreasury. It should be remembered that no one ever uses the \u201cendless\nchain\u201d but the bankers. The people don\u2019t want the gold; they would rather\nhave the greenbacks, and they will take them without any gold behind\nthem. The way to break the \u201cendless chain\u201d is to abolish the gold reserve.\n\nBryan seems bent on building up a straw party for the Republicans to\nknock down. In doing so he is playing into the hands of the Republicans,\nand he is using some good men for straw. He is doing just what the\nRepublican bosses want him to do. Whether he has sense enough to see it,\ndoes not alter the situation. Every move he makes tends to divide the\nDemocratic Party and help the Republicans.\n\nThe bold and brazen bag-barons of the Beef Trust will in all probability\nfind some way to dodge the injunction issued against them. There is an\nold saying that runs something like \u201ccatch your cottontail before you\ncook it,\u201d or words to that effect. If there is no change in prices of\ncattle and beef, you may rest assured that the beef barons are still\nrobbing the people at both ends of the line.\n\nFor thirty years I have heard this talk of the better class of men in\nthe Democratic Party getting control of it and bringing it back to its\nold-time moorings, but the party is in a much worse condition today than\nit ever has been before. That there are good men in it, no one will\nattempt to deny. The rank and file of the party are honest and sincere,\nbut the party is controlled by the most unscrupulous set of buccaneers\nthat ever existed, and, under the system of primaries and conventions,\nthe people have no more show to win against the professional politicians\nthan a goose would have in a running match with a red fox. The party\nis not only divided and demoralized, but it is disgraced in the eyes\nof the people. The attempt of the party in the recent campaign to ape\nthe methods of the Republican Party as practiced by Mr. Hanna in 1896\nand 1900, and its bid for Wall Street support, were despicable beyond\ndescription. A party that has for years laid claim to being a reform\nparty, that will stoop to such contemptible methods, deserves not only\nthe distrust of the people, but their everlasting condemnation.\n\n\n\n\n                     _The Heritage of Maxwell Fair_\n\n                            BY VINCENT HARPER\n\n\n                      SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS\n\n        Maxwell Fair, an Englishman who has amassed a colossal\n      fortune on \u2019Change, inherits from his ancestors a\n      remarkable tendency to devote his life to some object,\n      generally a worthy, if peculiar one, which is extravagantly\n      chivalrous, even morbid. The story opens with Fair and Mrs.\n      Fair standing over the body of a man who has just been shot\n      in their house\u2014a foreigner, who had claimed to be an old\n      friend of Mrs. Fair. Fair sends her to her room, saying:\n      \u201cLeave everything to me.\u201d He hides the body in a chest, and\n      decides to close the house \u201cfor a trip on the Continent.\u201d\n      Fair tells the governess, Kate Mettleby, that he loves\n      her, that there is no dishonor in his love, in spite of\n      Mrs. Fair\u2019s existence, and that, until an hour ago, he\n      thought he could marry her\u2014could \u201cbreak the self-imposed\n      conditions of his weird life-purpose.\u201d They are interrupted\n      before Kate, who really loves him, is made to understand.\n      While the Fairs are entertaining a few old friends at\n      dinner, Kate, not knowing that it contains Mrs. Fair\u2019s\n      blood-stained dress, is about to hide a parcel in the chest\n      when she is startled by a sound.\n\n\n                         CHAPTER V (_Continued_)\n\n\u201cHss\u2014hss,\u201d once more came the noise, and this time she realized that it\nproceeded from the doorway. With a frightened look she saw a man peering\nand smiling at her between the porti\u00e8res.\n\n\u201cWhy, who are you?\u201d she asked, involuntarily retreating toward the bell.\n\n\u201cSh-h. They are at dinner\u2014a very good dinner, from the smell, too,\u201d\nanswered the stranger, entering the room with an air of such thorough\ngood-nature and easy friendliness that Miss Mettleby gained courage. He\nwas a little, wiry, dapper, insinuating fellow whose cockney smartness\nof attire and knowing, \u201cbetween ourselves\u201d manner suggested almost\nanything, from an upper groom or a veterinary\u2019s assistant to a rising\nyoung follower of the turf or a successful burglar with aristocratic\nconnections.\n\n\u201cI will ring,\u201d said Miss Mettleby, puzzled whether to scream or laugh.\n\n\u201cOh, I wouldn\u2019t do that, you know,\u201d suggested the visitor pleasantly,\nmore like one throwing out a friendly suggestion than a burglar\nintimidating a very frightened young governess. \u201cYou see, miss, I have\nbusiness with Mr. Fair\u2014rather nasty business, too, and I never broach a\ndisagreeable subject until after dinner, do you?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what do you mean by prowling about people\u2019s houses?\u201d asked Kate,\nwith a dignity born of growing assurance that the man did not contemplate\nher immediate murder.\n\n\u201cOh, I say, let up, miss, you know,\u201d deprecated the invader ruefully.\n\u201cYou see, when you have passed a few hours back of pianos and under beds\nand in wardrobes you grow attached to a house, don\u2019t you, miss? I\u2019m that\nattached to this house that you\u2019d be surprised if I was to tell you how\nmuch. You\u2019ll be the governess now, I dare say?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but on my word, you are the coolest thief\u2014\u201d replied Kate, and the\ncool one broke in:\n\n\u201cOh, oh, pretty young lady, recall that there wile insinuation, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, since you are so cool about it and come here where you are sure\nto be seen, I\u2019ll believe you,\u201d answered Miss Mettleby. \u201cBut what do you\nwant? Really, this is refreshing.\u201d\n\n\u201cAin\u2019t it just, miss?\u201d acquiesced the cool one, sitting down. \u201cAskin\u2019\nyour pardon, I\u2019ll smoke. Now, miss, that we\u2019re so cozy like, I\u2019ll ask you\na few questions. A dark foreign gentlemen called here about an hour ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he did\u2014what of it?\u201d asked Kate, with a very feeble effort to\ncover the alarm which his words created.\n\n\u201cYou saw him?\u201d went on the stranger, with an exasperating coolness.\n\n\u201cIf I did, I don\u2019t see what business that is of yours,\u201d retorted Kate\nhaughtily enough, but inwardly quaking. \u201cWho are you, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Ferret, miss,\u201d he answered, rising and bowing; \u201cMr. Samuel Ferret,\nof the Scotland Yard private detective force\u2014your servant.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood gracious,\u201d cried Miss Mettleby, springing up in spite of her effort\nto betray no feeling. \u201cA detective? But why should you come here?\u201d\n\nPoor Kate\u2019s alarm would have been considerably heightened had she only\nknown that three or four other insinuating and evanescent gentlemen had\nbeen in and out of the premises for the past hour, and that still more of\nthem were at that moment watching the house, front and rear.\n\n\u201cWell, you see, miss,\u201d replied Ferret, trying by his manner to reassure\nthe young woman, \u201cI\u2019ve been taking an interest in my foreign friend for a\nweek. He came here today. I haven\u2019t seen him go away again? Have you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Kate, with an indifference which she did not feel; \u201cbut he\nmust have gone, of course. There is no such person about the premises. I\nmust ring and advise Mr. Fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, really, you know,\u201d exclaimed Ferret, jumping up to intercept her;\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t do that, would you? When a gent goes into a house and don\u2019t\ncome out again, it is just possible to imagine that he is somewhere\nnear that house, not to say in that house. You follow me, I hope?\nWell, my dear foreign friend came into this here very elegant mansion\nand he didn\u2019t go out of it again, so by a stretch of fancy I think he\nmay be in London yet, and in that part of London which is up in your\nattic. Now, don\u2019t jump. If you make a row, you\u2019ll frighten the great\nfolks at dinner\u2014such a deucedly good dinner, too\u2014and besides give my\nforeign friend advance knowledge of my little surprise party\u2014I just love\nsurprises, don\u2019t you? And them there foreign gents can get out through a\nsmaller hole than a self-respecting Englishman, let me tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut who is the man?\u201d asked Kate, forgetting her alarm as Ferret, with\nthe oddest winks and gestures with his long thumbs, delivered his speech.\n\u201cAnd what is he doing here? And what do you propose to do about it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMe? What do I propose to do about it?\u201d inquired Ferret as if the thought\nthat he would be expected to do something about it had just struck him.\n\u201cWell, first of all, I propose to ask you to be a nice young lady and\nhelp me a bit. You see, miss, my friend don\u2019t mean any great kindness to\nMr. and Mrs. Fair. Not a bit of it\u2014that ain\u2019t like my friend. In fact,\nthere\u2019s going to be a row\u2014now, now, don\u2019t jump, you know\u2014I was saying\nthat there is going to be a row, unless you and I prevent it, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I insist upon telling Mr. Fair at once\u2014this is awful,\u201d cried Kate,\nbeginning again to believe that the alleged detective was simply a clever\nsneak-thief who was playing upon her ignorance.\n\n\u201cHawful is it?\u201d smiled Ferret, warning her to remain seated with a hand\nlifted eloquently; \u201cbut it won\u2019t be hawful, but just a pleasant little\npicnic if you will do just what I tell you. Come now, don\u2019t be a fool,\nmiss, but a dear, good, cool-headed young lady. Will you help me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Miss Mettleby; \u201cof course I will do anything to help Mr.\nFair\u2014I mean, Mrs. Fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course you will,\u201d said Ferret encouragingly. \u201cI knew you was a\nChristian the minute I see you, miss. You stop in this room until I come\nback. I am going out to telephone, you see.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we have a telephone in the house, you know,\u201d eagerly remarked Kate,\nnot liking the idea of being kept a prisoner in the library while this\nman roamed about the house at his leisure.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d jeered Ferret; \u201cand it would be a fine thing, wouldn\u2019t it, for me\nto yell through your telephone downstairs that I wanted the Yard to send\nme six constables at once to nab a foreign gentleman\u2014with the foreign\ngent himself lying under the very mat on which I was standing. Innocent!\nNo. I must go out to telephone\u2014and if you sort of want to see me safe\nout of the house, why, come down to the door with me\u2014yes, that\u2019s it. I\nwant you to sit in the little room by the street door, and when my friend\ngoes out the door follow him\u2014follow him, miss, you understand. He will go\nacross the street, down the next street to the square, turn to the left,\nand call a cab at the corner. You call the next cab and direct the driver\nto follow the first one. Watch him, follow him, don\u2019t lose sight of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he wouldn\u2019t be such a fool as to go out by the front door,\u201d replied\nKate, thoroughly puzzled by Ferret\u2019s mysterious instructions, which she,\nof course, did not understand were merely attempts on his part to get her\nout of his way and fixed permanently in some known room.\n\n\u201cNever fear,\u201d answered Ferret; \u201cthat\u2019s just what he will do. He\u2019ll go out\nof the front door as if he owned the house. In all likelihood I\u2019ll be\nover the way when he and you come out, and then of course I\u2019ll follow him\nmyself, but if I ain\u2019t there, you must do as I say. Follow him no matter\nwherever he goes\u2014and then come to Scotland Yard and report.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know about all this,\u201d stoutly returned Kate, shaking her head.\n\u201cWhy can\u2019t Mr. Fair be advised at once? This is all wrong\u2014and strange.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you see, miss,\u201d quickly protested Ferret, \u201cMr. Fair has private\nreasons for not wishing us to trouble the foreign gent, so he wouldn\u2019t\nhelp us to nab him. Funny, isn\u2019t it? But it often happens that we poor\ndetectives has to catch all sorts of gents in spite of the very parties\non whose accounts we wants \u2019em. The aristocracy has objections against\nappearing in court even against their own murderers. Now Mr. Fair does\nnot know this gent\u2019s little game and so he trusts him. We\u2019ve got to do\nall this business ourselves\u2014and, I tell you, it\u2019s life and death. So, is\nit a go? Will you be a sensible young woman and not make a row, and help\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d answered Kate, convinced by the fellow\u2019s irresistibly frank\nair\u2014and moved by the comforting thought that her consent to his plan\nwould at least get him out of the house\u2014when she would of course advise\nMr. Fair of the whole matter, even if it did spoil a good dinner.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a real lady for you,\u201d gallantly remarked Ferret. \u201cNow I\u2019m off.\nCome downstairs if you want to see me out of the house\u2014you suspicious\nyoung thing. No? All right. Thanks, but you really must sit in that\nlittle room, you know, for he may be leaving the house at any minute.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll get my hat first,\u201d replied Kate, \u201cso that I can be ready to follow\nhim if he goes out.\u201d\n\nFerret slid noiselessly out of the library with a warning finger at his\nlips, and Kate congratulated herself upon having so cleverly deceived\nhim. She would hide the parcel containing the surprise and then send word\nto the dining-room that she must see Mr. Fair at once.\n\nShe sat for a moment trying to think out the impressions which had been\npouring in upon her in this hour of cataclysm and departure. What had\nbrought the foreign gentleman to the house? What had he done to make him\nthe subject of police suspicion? And why should Mr. Fair wish to protect\nhim from the law? And\u2014oh, how the thought came crushing back into her\nheart after being dislodged by the detective\u2019s sudden appearance\u2014of what\ncrime had Mr. Fair spoken? The temporary calmness that the diversion had\npurchased for her gave way now to all the torment that had preceded it.\nSpringing up to carry out her resolution\u2014action being at all events less\ndreadful than idle horror\u2014she took the parcel from the table, and going\nhurriedly across the room, lifted the lid of the old carved chest. She\ndropped the parcel into it\u2014and fell.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAllyne had just elicited a laugh by one of his characterizations of a\ncertain great personage, when the party at dinner heard a shriek that\nbrought them all to their feet. Mr. and Mrs. Fair dashed upstairs with\nwho can say what horror of expectancy in their minds. They found the\ngoverness lying beside the chest in the library. Fair acted promptly.\n\nHe heard the others running up the stairs, so as he raised Kate from the\nfloor he said to Mrs. Fair; \u201cSit on the chest, Janet\u2014never mind why\u2014and\ndo not rise from it until I get them all out of here. It is only Miss\nMettleby, the governess\u2014she has fainted,\u201d he added as Mrs. March and\nAllyne entered followed by Travers.\n\n\u201cOh, my dear Mrs. Fair, how pale you look\u2014what has really happened?\u201d\nasked Mrs. March anxiously.\n\n\u201cMiss Mettleby has had a bad turn\u2014that\u2019s all. Pray, all of you go,\u201d\nreplied Fair, for Mrs. Fair, with a white face and vacant look, sat as if\nunconscious of what passed.\n\n\u201cAllyne, take Mrs. March down, won\u2019t you?\u201d asked Travers, to relieve the\nsituation, and then, after Allyne and Mrs. March were gone: \u201cIs there\nnothing that I can do, Fair? My God, man, what does it all mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, old chap,\u201d answered Fair as he laid Miss Mettleby upon the\nleather lounge; \u201cnothing. Go down now, or Lady Poynter will fear there is\nsomething serious the matter. Janet, my love, let Travers see you down.\u201d\n\nMrs. Fair suffered Travers to lead her away, walking in a trance.\n\n\u201cKate\u2014Kate,\u201d said Fair, bending over the governess and chafing her hands\nwhich now began to twitch convulsively.\n\n\u201cHas he gone?\u201d asked Kate, opening her eyes and staring nervously around\nthe room.\n\n\u201cThere is nobody here, Miss Mettleby,\u201d quietly answered Fair, helping her\nto her feet. \u201cAre you better?\u201d\n\n\u201cI must have fainted\u2014how stupid of me,\u201d replied Miss Mettleby, getting\nherself together and shuddering as the reality came back upon her. \u201cIt is\nnothing, Mr. Fair. Now please go back to your dinner\u2014oh, how foolish and\nannoying of me to disturb you all in this way! I will get my hat and take\nthe air for a few minutes. Come.\u201d\n\nThey walked slowly out of the library, and in the passage Kate insisted\non his returning to the dining-room while she ran up to her own room.\n\nFair went down accordingly, tortured with the fear that she had opened\nthe chest. Miss Mettleby, hastily preparing for the street, slipped out\nof the house and fled along to the corner, where she took a cab and was\ndriven off at a mad pace.\n\n\n                               CHAPTER VI\n\nAbout nine o\u2019clock that evening Mr. Inspector Sharpe sat in his little\noffice, running his eye over the records of a day\u2019s departures from the\nsteep and thorny path on the part of the very mixed and sorely tried\npeople of London. At that hour he was on duty also on emergency cases\nthat might be reported at the ever-expectant Yard. So he glanced at his\nreports casually, as one does who looks to be interrupted at any moment.\nThe bells in the steeples were chiming nine when a constable entered,\nconducting a very agitated young woman who showed not only the usual\nnervousness of the layman in police offices, but also a great deal of not\nvery clearly defined personal anxiety.\n\n\u201cWell? Well?\u201d asked the Inspector, without looking up from his reports.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon\u2014but is this\u2014?\u201d asked a timid voice in return.\n\n\u201cAh, a lady,\u201d exclaimed the Inspector on seeing her. \u201cBeg pardon, ma\u2019am.\nHave a seat, ma\u2019am. And now what can I do for you?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this where they report things?\u201d asked the girl apologetically.\n\n\u201cBless us all,\u201d cried out Sharpe, with a smile; \u201cthey report some things\nhere, miss. Who are you, now?\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes it matter? Must I say who I am?\u201d inquired the lady anxiously.\n\n\u201cReally, you know, I can\u2019t say as to that, you know, miss,\u201d replied the\nInspector, with a merriment which he frowned at when the constable began\nto join in it. \u201cIf you have something to report, I must know who it is\nas reports it, wouldn\u2019t you say? But there, now, miss, don\u2019t you be\nafraid of nothing. Out with it. What seems to be a-troublin\u2019 of such a\nquiet-looking young person as you, miss?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d answered the girl, much encouraged by the humanity of the\nterrible officer whose uniform and surroundings appalled her at first,\n\u201cI just wanted to report that he did go out and I followed him, but he\nwalked so fast that I couldn\u2019t keep up with him, and he disappeared\naround the corner, please, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did, eh?\u201d laughed the Inspector. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t have no objection to\nmentionin\u2019 the gent\u2019s name, now, would you? Must have somebody\u2019s name.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you know who I mean,\u201d answered the girl, with surprise, as it did\nnot of course occur to her that a number of young women had been asked to\nfollow strange gentlemen about the streets that very evening. \u201cYou know\nwho it was\u2014the foreign gentleman, you know.\u201d\n\nThe Inspector burst into a hearty laugh at this, but said sharply to his\nsubordinate: \u201cBellows, if you laugh again, I\u2019ll report you. No, miss, I\nreally can\u2019t say as I do know just who you mean. You see, we has such a\nlot of foreign gents to look after one way or another, that we gets \u2019em\nsort o\u2019 mixed like, sometimes, you know. Who was your particular foreign\ngent and why did he walk so fast and why was you so keen to catch \u2019im?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is very strange,\u201d replied the girl, beginning to think that, after\nall, she had been played upon by that horrid, suave thief. \u201cMr. Ferret\ntold me to come here and tell you all about it, you know. At Mr. Maxwell\nFair\u2019s, you know\u2014Carlton House Terrace\u2014please say you understand.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, I see,\u201d exclaimed Sharpe, at once showing the keenest interest and\nbristling with alert readiness both to hear and to act. \u201cIt\u2019s Ferret, is\nit? Bellows, go and ask Ferret to come here.\u201d The constable departed to\ndo as he was bid in spite of a gesture of protest from Miss Mettleby and\nher statement that Mr. Ferret was not here but at Mr. Fair\u2019s house.\n\n\u201cNow, miss,\u201d began the Inspector, when Bellows closed the door after\nhim, \u201chow do you come to be interested in this Spanish conspiracy? It\nwas Se\u00f1or Mendes that you followed, eh? Why? Speak out, now, plain and\nsquare. It\u2019s an ugly business for the likes of you to get mixed up in.\u201d\n\nMiss Mettleby heard all this with a rapidly deepening feeling of guilty\ncomplicity in some dark plot, and yet, beneath this sickening dread, she\nfelt a vague hope that now she would glean some intelligent idea of the\nmystery into which she, Mr. Fair\u2014all her world, had been so suddenly\nplunged by the hurrying events of the past two hours.\n\n\u201cOh, you see, sir,\u201d she began; \u201cI assure you that I know absolutely\nnothing at all about what Mr. Ferret was about\u2014nothing. I am the\ngoverness in Mr. Fair\u2019s family, that\u2019s all. And this evening when the\nfamily were at dinner Mr. Ferret came into the library\u2014nearly frightening\nme to death\u2014and told me that a foreign gentleman was in our house who\nintended some sort of mischief to my kind employer. So he asked me to\nwatch the street door and to follow the man if he should go out before\nMr. Ferret returned from telegraphing or something. And, of course, the\nwhole thing is non\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHer pitiful little plot to divert police suspicion from her knight until\nthe horrible evidence of someone\u2019s guilt\u2014not his, not his!\u2014could be\nremoved was nipped at this point by the entrance, to her unspeakable\nsurprise, of Ferret himself, smiling and unruffled.\n\n\u201cFerret, do you know this young lady?\u201d asked the inspector perfunctorily.\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d replied Ferret, with a salute\u2014military to his chief and\ncavalier to the trembling Kate. \u201cShe\u2019s the governess, sir, at Mr. Maxwell\nFair\u2019s. How are you again, miss? You are here rather earlier than I\nlooked for you. She\u2019s a regular corker, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence!\u201d snapped the Inspector, to whom discipline was all. \u201cThis young\nperson was telling me that she watched as you requested. Go on, miss.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Ferret had scarcely gone out when the foreign gentleman passed\nout of the street door and I immediately followed him,\u201d went on poor\nKate, with oozing hope that her blundering lie would be believed, now\nthat that gimlet-eyed Ferret was here to observe her. \u201cThe man crossed\nthe square and walked quickly down the next street.\u201d\n\nShe stopped. Ferret seemed to be whistling in mild but growing\nunbelief\u2014conduct which he suddenly abandoned on receiving a wireless\nmessage of caution from the Inspector. The nimble mind of Ferret caught\nhis superior\u2019s point at once, so he fell in with his policy and said, as\nif to encourage Kate to proceed bravely with her transparent and useful\nlie: \u201cDidn\u2019t I tell you he would do so?\u201d\n\n\u201cBe quiet, Ferret!\u201d cried Sharpe, fearing that Ferret would develop some\nnew indiscretion. \u201cGo on, miss, go on. You saw the gent turn the corner?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Kate, with fresh courage; \u201che turned the corner and I ran\nafter him. There were many people in the narrow street into which he had\nturned, but I kept him in view and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you jumped into the next cab as quick as a flash\u2014\u201d put in Ferret,\nwhen he noticed that her powers of creation were ebbing, \u201cand followed\nhim until you saw him go into\u2014go on, go on, miss\u2014you\u2019re great, you are.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, no,\u201d sighed Kate, fearing to venture to be so specific as to\nlocate the mysterious man in a definite house anywhere. \u201cAlas, no. When I\nreached Pall Mall he had disappeared.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, dam\u2014that is, you know, I beg pardon\u2014what a pity you missed him,\u201d\nexclaimed Ferret, rapidly calculating what her game was.\n\n\u201cIt is only just gone nine,\u201d remarked the Inspector sternly. \u201cWhen was it\nthat you were at Mr. Fair\u2019s house, Ferret? This is very strange.\u201d\n\nIt was Ferret\u2019s turn now to fear that the course of affairs reflected on\nhis discretion, and, while he could hardly believe that the Inspector\nhad failed to perceive that the governess was fibbing, he could not risk\nbeing thought a bungler, for Sharpe was a man of few words, quick action,\nand little given to reopening cases once he had decided them.\n\n\u201cI am afraid the young lady has made a mistake,\u201d Ferret continued\ncarefully. \u201cIt was dark and she probably mistook somebody else for the\nforeign gent. You see, sir, I changed my mind and didn\u2019t go to telephone,\nbut stood immediately opposite Mr. Fair\u2019s house until ten minutes ago,\nand the gent had not come out of the door\u2014that I can swear to.\u201d\n\nFerret hoped that this bit of information would so shake the girl\u2019s\nconfidence in her story that she would begin a new and contradictory one.\n\n\u201cBut he _did_ go out,\u201d sobbed Kate, truly shaken, but with a woman\u2019s\ndetermination to see a thing through; \u201cI say he did go out. Oh, Mr.\nInspector, tell me that you believe me! There is no foreign gentleman at\nMr. Fair\u2019s house\u2014so it will be very foolish for you to send any of those\nawful detectives there. Do, _do_ believe me! I tell you, sir, that there\nhas been no foreign gentleman at our house, and anyway I saw him go out.\u201d\n\n\u201cFerret, come into my private office a minute,\u201d said Sharpe, trying to\nretain his customary solemn and impressive expression. \u201cPlease wait here\nfor us, miss. Nobody will come in to molest you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy God, what have I done now?\u201d cried Kate, when the two terrible men,\nwith their cold, businesslike, lynx ways, had gone. \u201cBut he did not do\nit\u2014he did NOT!\u201d she moaned as she leaned her poor reeling head upon the\nedge of the Inspector\u2019s desk.\n\nThey came back after a few minutes.\n\n\u201cWe believe your story, miss,\u201d began the Inspector kindly; \u201cand Ferret\nwill be severely reprimanded in the morning for having annoyed you by\ngoing into your house. Now tell me anything more that you may know about\nthis silly rumor\u2014but be careful what you say, for you may have to swear\nto the truth of it all in a court of law. I shall take down what you say.\nCome, now, what is your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cKate Mettleby,\u201d she replied, with uneasiness as she thought of perjury;\n\u201cbut really, truly, honestly, there has been no murder at our house, so I\ndon\u2019t see why you should want me to\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course not, of course not,\u201d interrupted the Inspector, with a\ncordiality and candor that brought her immense relief; \u201cbut, you see,\nthe law compels us to look sharp into the ways of all foreigners. The\nlaw is that all foreigners are guilty until they can prove themselves\ninnocent\u2014which is very seldom possible.\u201d\n\nFerret made a little movement as if he were going to protest against\nquite such a bald bit of cruel treatment of an innocent baby, but he\nremembered his duty and held his tongue.\n\n\u201cOh, is that the law?\u201d asked Kate, with wide eyes. \u201cBut surely there must\nbe some foreigners who are as good as English people.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere may be,\u201d admitted the Inspector sorrowfully; \u201cbut the law don\u2019t\nbelieve it if it can help it. Now, Miss Mettleby, governesses and\nservants has opportunities. They sometimes hear and see a good deal\nthat is said and done by the gentry. Mr. and Mrs. Fair never quarrel, I\nsuppose, about a party by the name of Mendes, do they?\u201d\n\nThe shrewd officer of the law regretted his words as soon as he had\nspoken them, for Kate sprang to her feet, burning with shame and\nindignation.\n\n\u201cYou mistake, sir!\u201d she cried fiercely. \u201cI am not a servant, but the\nfriend of Mrs. Maxwell Fair. And if I were a servant, do you suppose\u2014I\ndespise your insulting innuendo! And I tell you that Mr. Fair is utterly\nincapable of the crime which I can see that your bloodhound, Mr. Ferret\nthere, thinks he has committed. I am going.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are going in a moment\u2014when I allow you to do so,\u201d returned the\nInspector, anxious to retrieve his mistake, but also desirous to let her\nunderstand that he had authority. \u201cNow don\u2019t be foolish, miss. You fly\noff into a rage quite unnecessarily, I assure you. Mr. Ferret neither\nmakes nor implies any charge of any sort against Mr. Fair, you know. Now\nbe calm and simply answer my questions\u2014you will have to answer them here\nor in court, remember. You have heard Mr. and Mrs. Fair speak of one Don\nPablo Mendes, I suppose?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u2014many times, but always with kindness,\u201d replied Kate stiffly.\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d said Sharpe benignly. \u201cNow we are getting on. And this Don Pablo\nMendes has been at the house frequently, has he not?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, as far as I know, until today,\u201d answered Kate, still far from\nmollified. \u201cMrs. Fair has been\u2014but, no, I sha\u2019n\u2019t say that.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I say, don\u2019t half say things in that way, you know,\u201d exclaimed the\nInspector, nettled. Then, coaxingly: \u201cYou see, miss, when a witness says\nhalf of a thing, the law compels us to piece it out as we think best. So\nout with it. Mrs. Fair has seen Mendes somewhere away from home\u2014you were\ngoing to say?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Kate, scarlet with shame at the man\u2019s seeming implication,\nand not a little annoyed by his almost supernatural ability to piece out,\nas he put it, her half sentences; \u201cbut, sir, I\u2019d have you understand that\nMrs. Fair always consulted Mr. Fair before meeting Mr. Mendes\u2014always.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt,\u201d answered Sharpe, with a look of lofty elevation above her\nimplied rebuke. \u201cNow, miss, don\u2019t please see more than is in my words.\nAnd don\u2019t be afraid either. Remember, it is this Spanish gent, Mendes,\nand not either your Mr. or Mrs. Fair, that we are looking for.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank God for that,\u201d murmured Kate, beginning to break down visibly.\n\nSharpe, on a wink from Ferret, waited a few seconds while Ferret fetched\na glass of water, which the wretched girl drank eagerly\u2014with a poor\nlittle smile of thanks that made the susceptible Ferret wish Mendes had\nnever been born. This diversion greatly cleared the atmosphere at once.\n\n\u201cDo you happen to know who Mendes is and why we want him?\u201d asked\nthe Inspector finally, with the air of a gossip rather than that of\nan inquisitor, which had the effect he desired, for Kate looked up\nfearlessly now.\n\n\u201cI have no idea,\u201d she answered promptly, glad to be able again to tell\nthe truth. Then, adding with the former tone of apology to truth: \u201cAll\nI ask is that you send nobody to our house\u2014now that Mr. Mendes has gone\naway from it. You won\u2019t, will you? Please, please, do not!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be nonsense to look for him when he\u2019s gone, wouldn\u2019t it?\u201d\nlaughed Sharpe. \u201cAnd you know we never do nonsensical things when we know\nit. That will do, I think, miss. You may go, if you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, sir,\u201d gasped Kate, with alacrity. \u201cAnd don\u2019t you see that if\nMendes has committed some great crime he would be very likely to commit\nsuicide? So I don\u2019t see why you should think that\u2014now, don\u2019t laugh.\u201d\n\nHer last words were addressed to Ferret, who did not know that she had\nan eye on him. When she closed the door and they heard her pass into the\nouter passage, it was with anything but a smile that Ferret looked up at\nhis chief and said: \u201cWell, by all that\u2019s holy\u2014did you ever?\u201d\n\n\n                               CHAPTER VII\n\nMiss Mettleby took a cab and was soon stretched upon her bed more than\never torn and tortured by the perfect vortex of vague conjecture and too\nactual knowledge which now dragged her and the man she loved and her\nwhole world down to some indefinite but certain ruin.\n\nIn the meantime Inspector Sharpe disposed of two cases that had just\nbeen brought in, and then sending for Ferret, the two penetrating, cool,\nkeen-scented gentlemen sat on opposite sides of the little table in the\nInspector\u2019s private office and discussed the rapidly developing situation.\n\n\u201cBut what the devil does it all mean?\u201d inquired Sharpe, showing by his\ngraver and tenser expression that the case was passing from an ordinary\npiece of blackmail, involving a few unimportant foreigners, to a very\ngenuine mystery of much more serious aspect, involving not an English\ngentleman merely, but the particular English gentleman who was at that\nmoment in the eye of the public.\n\n\u201cMean? Mean?\u201d answered Ferret, leaning back with an air of immense\nprofessional eagerness. \u201cWhy, man, can\u2019t you see what it means? In the\nfirst place, something happened after I left the house that changed the\ndear little governess lady\u2019s mind. She was told to leave the house, to\nfollow the Cuban, you see. Well, the Cuban didn\u2019t go out as the little\none so prettily lied to you. I know this because I had five of our\ntrustiest men watching every entrance to the house. So, for some reason\nthe girl has joined Fair in his unaccountable effort to keep the rum chap\nout of our hands. There was a row of some sort just after I left the\nhouse, for Wilson, whom I let into the place, saw them all suddenly rush\nup from the dinner-table, but, as they came back presently, Wilson didn\u2019t\ngo up to the library\u2014especially as he saw pretty Kate slip out into the\nstreet. Getting thickish, eh? Well, sir, the shot that we heard about\nseven o\u2019clock was fired in Fair\u2019s house, for I saw his revolver lying\non the library-table with one chamber empty. How\u2019s that for your little\ngame?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is getting interesting,\u201d muttered the Inspector.\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it just?\u201d answered Ferret, sitting up triumphantly. \u201cAnd what did\nI tell you? I knew there was a deal more than just an innocent bit of\nMendes\u2019s regular little practice. The papers will be worth reading, sir,\ntomorrow or the day after. I wish this governess, though, was out of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have the house well watched?\u201d asked the Inspector.\n\n\u201cRather,\u201d answered Ferret, with one of his expressive winks. \u201cWilson and\nBanks and Thorpe and two others. They won\u2019t let very much get through\ntheir fingers. Another thing. The Fairs are closing the house tomorrow\nmorning all of a sudden. All the servants have been notified. Fair\nhimself will spend the day at Drayton Hall\u2014you know, old Sir Nelson\nPoynter\u2019s place in Surrey\u2014and the missis and the kids will go to Paris.\nI quietly read the two telegrams that Fair sent off to engage the rooms\nfor them in Paris. Wilson will follow them, while Thorpe will run down\nto Drayton Hall tonight to see how things lie. Tomorrow after they have\ngone I shall give the house a thorough looking over, I can promise you.\nSharpe, my lad, we\u2019ve struck a gold mine!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what do you make of it all?\u201d asked Sharpe. \u201cI confess that I\u2019m in\nthe dark. Have you got at the real situation?\u201d\n\n\u201cWalls have ears\u2014and even minor police officials have a liking for\nknowing what their superiors are at\u2014so, your ear,\u201d replied Ferret, going\nto the Inspector\u2019s side and whispering to him.\n\n\u201cLord! You don\u2019t mean that?\u201d exclaimed Sharpe, jumping up.\n\n\u201cHow\u2019s that for a bit of sensation for the newspapers? Maxwell Fair\u2014Phew!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how ever did you come to talk to the young lady at the house? Was\nthat quite prudent, do you think? Isn\u2019t she a bit skittish?\u201d asked the\nInspector when he resumed his seat. \u201cPoor little innocent!\u2014what a fool\nshe was to come here and tell us that he didn\u2019t do it, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, the governess\u2014ain\u2019t she a circus?\u201d laughed Ferret. \u201cWhat a deep one\nto come and tell us not to send any horrid detectives! You see, she was\nin the library when I went up there during their dinner to have a look\nround for the cause of the shooting, and, incidentally, for the Cuban,\nthough I knew he must be higher up in the house somewhere\u2014attic probably.\nI had to get the blooming girlie out of the library, so I opened up my\nlittle plan about having her watch for the Cuban, and she took to it like\na trout after a fly. That was before whatever happened a little while\nafterward which opened her eyes and changed her bearings. When I went out\nof the house I let Wilson into it, to be ready to investigate the library\nwhen pretty Kate came down to watch the door\u2014but the row that sent them\nall hurrying from the dinner-table altered that. I stood just over the\nway under a tree, when out comes my little lady, not following the Cuban,\nfor he hadn\u2019t come out of the house, but all by her lone and all of a\nblue funk. She hops into a cab at the corner and I into the next one\u2014and\nshe got here half a minute ahead of me. Glory what luck we\u2019re playing to;\nwhy, it\u2019s better than\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHe was interrupted by the telephone bell. The Inspector answered it:\n\u201cWell? Who? Yes. Yes. Ferret is here\u2014with me in my office. What? No?\nWait\u2014Ferret will speak to you. Good. All right.\u201d\n\nSharpe turned to Ferret: \u201cHere, Ferret, it\u2019s Wilson\u2014says something\u2019s up.\nBetter get it yourself.\u201d\n\nFerret grabbed the instrument eagerly. The case was developing a trifle\ntoo rapidly. What could Wilson, whom he had left under the stairs at Mr.\nFair\u2019s, want so soon?\n\n                          (_To be continued._)\n\n\n\n\n                       _The Say of Reform Editors_\n\n\nWhen the German Emperor rides on the railroads a detailed bill for every\nlocomotive and every car used is sent him and he pays the bill. In the\nUnited States when the President rides on the railroads no bill is sent\nhim and no charge is made. In Germany the government owns the railroads\nand in this country they are private property.\u2014_Nebraska Independent._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGovernment ownership would adjust the matter of railroad rebates\nequitably. And it would do more. It would prevent the railroads extorting\nfrom the government untold thousands of money which they at present filch\nfrom the public treasury by excessive charge for hauling mail cars. This\nmoney would come mighty handy in extending the rural free mail delivery\nsystem. And it could be spent to good advantage in raising the salaries\nof the postal clerks who deserve so well at the hands of the people. Or\nit could be turned to account in lowering the price of letter postage.\nThere\u2019s a thousand and one better ways to spend the people\u2019s money than\nhanding it over to the corporations that are always soaking it to the\ngovernment every time they get a chance.\u2014_What\u2019s The Use?_\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf President Roosevelt sincerely and vigorously attempts to obtain any\nreform legislation during his administration, two-thirds of his support\nwill come from the opposition. His own party, owned by and mortgaged\nto the few, is absolutely powerless to effect any good. There are a\nfew prominent kittens in the party who simulate a little independent\nthinking, but when the mother cat gives them a collective swat in the\nface, they lie down and put their chins on their paws and mew in obedient\naccents that they are now good cats.\u2014_Chadron (Neb.) Times._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA certain Wall Street firm was engaged in doing business as curb brokers\nand \u201cwashing\u201d a certain stock.\n\nDo you know exactly what \u201cwashing\u201d stock is? It is simply a fake auction\non a big scale. It is the kind of thing that puts a little man in jail\nif he is caught doing it. It is the kind of thing that makes respectable\nfortunes for some of the big men.\n\nThis firm was engaged in \u201cwashing\u201d a certain copper stock. An officer of\nthe dignified National City Bank was interested in this stock. He had\nagreed to take a certain amount of it at a very low price, and he wanted\nto unload it on the public at a very much higher price.\n\nThe brokers proceeded to \u201cwash\u201d the stock accordingly.\n\nLet us say that the stock was worth fifty cents per share. One broker\nbid fifty-five cents for a thousand shares, and they all pretended that\nit was a legitimate transaction\u2014in reality it was a fake bid and a fake\ntransaction.\n\nThe other broker engaged in the skin game would then bid sixty cents for\nanother thousand shares\u2014and so it would go.\n\nNot one person engaged in the swindle was actually buying a single share\nof stock. They simply bid back and forth, pretending to buy it, and\nputting the price up day by day.\n\nThe crowd of poor fools that believe in the \u201chonor\u201d of these disreputable\nWall Street gamblers looked on at this mock auction, this fake selling\nand buying of stocks, amazed and excited by the constantly increasing\nvalues.\n\nOccasionally some gullible creature outside the combination that was\ndoing the stock \u201cwashing\u201d would come in and in good faith buy some\nshares, actually paying his good money for the worthless stuff.\n\nThis went on until they had forced the price of the stock up to a high\nfigure, ten times what it was worth. During this \u201cwashing\u201d operation,\nthey had succeeded in working off a good deal of this stock on the public\nthat believed the crooked sales were really genuine.\u2014_New York Journal._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Chicago Union Traction Street Railway Company has issued bonds and\nstocks to the amount of $112,500,000, or at the rate of $135,507 a mile.\nThe capitalization of all the street railways in Massachusetts only\namounts to $110,000,000. In Massachusetts, stock watering is prohibited,\nand the average capitalization of trolley lines in that state is only\n$390.67 per mile. The sort of work done in Chicago is theft, and the men\nwho did it, although they occupy the chief seats in the churches, are\nthieves. There is not a preacher in the whole city that dare say so, and\nthat makes them accomplices of the thieves.\u2014_Nebraska Independent._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Chicago _Record-Herald_, a Republican paper, refers to the fact that\nthe Federal Grand Jury returned indictments against Senators Mitchell,\nBurton and Dietrich, and says: \u201cIn each of these deplorable instances the\ncharges involve corruption and moral turpitude\u2014a bitter reflection for a\nlegislative body proud of its traditions and jealous of its prerogatives\nand reputation. The low tone of political morality receives a painful and\nstriking illustration in these successive blows to senatorial prestige.\u201d\n\nThe _Record-Herald_ adds: \u201cThe possibility of further disgrace and\ndegradation would be greatly diminished by substituting for indirect\nelections the plan of popular election of Federal senators.\u201d\n\nThe _Record-Herald_ might also have said that the fact that there are a\nnumber of prominent United States senators who have not yet been reached\nby indictment and will perhaps never be reached by indictment, who serve\non the Senate floor as the representatives of special interests, provides\nanother striking argument in favor of the popular election of senators.\n\nThe _Record-Herald_ might also have said that the fact that New York,\nMinnesota and Nebraska have during the present year elected to the Senate\nmen who were picked by the railroads provides another strong argument in\nfavor of the popular election of senators.\u2014_The Commoner._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn Eastern woman, who \u201cwants to do something for the poor laboring man,\u201d\nthreatens to start a school of physical culture for them in New York\nCity.\u2014_Rocky Mountain News._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBee stings cure rheumatism, but a more drastic treatment is necessary for\nthe man troubled with politics.\u2014_Eastern Sunday Call._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are persons who, with their backs to the future, see no objects but\nthose that are past. Of history in the making they know nothing. Such\nare those public men, editors and statesmen who are now asserting that\nJeffersonism has given way to Hamiltonism. The truth is that Jeffersonism\nhas been giving way to Hamiltonism ever since Chief-Justice Marshall\nbegan on the judicial bench to retrieve for Hamiltonism the utter defeat\nit had suffered at the polls. Step by step the Hamiltonian principle was\nbuilt up by judges until the Civil War, and by judges, Congresses and\nPresidents of all parties after that war. But the day of Hamiltonism is\nnow passing. A new regime is setting in. The pendulum is poised for the\nswing back to Jeffersonism. Those who think they see Hamiltonism looming\nup ahead are really looking backward.\u2014_Chicago Public._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe blame men for bribing legislators; yet sometimes they are in the\nposition of the fellow who is \u201cstood up\u201d by a footpad, with the demand\nfor his money or his life.\u2014_San Francisco Star._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe pretentious Apes, in either finance, literature, religion or moral\nphilosophy, are making faces at Thomas W. Lawson, of \u201cFrenzied Finance\u201d\nfame.\n\nMaking faces, through such mediums as _Collier\u2019s Weekly_ and others of\nthat ilk, is all they can do. The weekly tasks of a half-dozen of such\nwriters, the rapidity and the versatility of Thomas W. Lawson shows that\nhe could walk all over them in ten minutes. The exhibitions of these\nhirelings exemplifies the old story of the frog trying to swell himself\nup to the size of the ox.\u2014_The Patriarch._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Populist ideas are well to the front. It is difficult to pick up a\nmagazine or newspaper of any kind now without finding favorable opinions\nof some Populist measure, particularly as to the reforms in voting and\nthe management of monopolies. The Populists never stood so high in\nthe respect and admiration of the people. It is a time when state and\nlocal committees should be up and stirring. Whenever and wherever an\nimprovement comes, the Populists will be the kernel of the problem. The\nPopulists will be required to furnish the working plans and should be\nprepared to receive their friends.\u2014_Joliet News._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt is a lamentable fact, but true nevertheless, that there is more\nabsolute want and poverty in these United States than ever before.\n\nNotwithstanding we have made so much cotton here in the South that\nwe cannot sell it for enough to pay the cost of production, there\nare thousands in our Southland who are shivering with cold for want\nof needed clothing. Though our prairies have furnished trainloads of\nchoicest cattle, our people are forced to go hungry or pay robber prices\nfor meat. Our coal mines have yielded coal enough to warm every hut in\nall the land, yet thousands are freezing for want of fuel. Our charity\nassociations are snowed under by the inordinate demands for help from\nthe unemployed. Even in New York there are forty per cent. more idle men\ntoday than ever before.\n\nWe Southern people know but little of the effects of the concentration of\nwealth in the hands of a few men; of the grinding poverty which prevails\nin the congested centres of population; of the lavish extravagance of the\npampered spawn of plutocracy and its parasites. It will come to us later\nunless we set to work measures to check it at once.\u2014_Southern Mercury._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhile the bacillus of populism is still at work in the Democratic Party,\nit has also attached the railroad arm of the Republican machine.\u2014Our\nStandard.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur readers will remember the article we printed a short time ago by\nMr. Eltweed Pomeroy, showing how the voters of one ward of the city of\nLos Angeles, Cal., \u201crecalled\u201d an alderman charged with corruption. That\nwas the first time in the United States the Recall has been used. About\nsix weeks ago San Diego voted to amend its constitution by adopting the\nInitiative, Referendum and the Recall, and the Legislature has just\nratified this. We understand that Pasadena has also just adopted the\nRecall, though it has had the Initiative and Referendum for about a year.\nThus government by the people extends itself. The evils of democracy can\nbest be cured by more democracy.\u2014_Independent (N. Y.)._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nReports of suffering from poverty in London are harrowing. At a relief\nmeeting on the 31st it was reported that 200,000 people in that city\nalone are living on the verge of starvation. In the midst of all this\nsuffering there is something shocking, in spite of the evident good\nintentions of those in attendance, about the self-satisfaction of the\nluxurious persons constituting the relief meeting at which this report\nwas made. The meeting was held in the house of a duke, whose great income\nflows unearned into his private coffers from the common inheritance of\nall Londoners. A duchess, whose family lives in luxury on incomes also\nwrung unearned from people who work, occupied the chair. Among those\nparticipating were other titled personages whose luxurious incomes are\nenjoyed at the expense of their starving fellows whose sufferings they\nhad assembled to relieve. But all they proposed to do was to spend\npennies here and there for sweet charity. Sweet charity! Yes, sweet;\nso sweet to those who dole it out, and so bitter to those who must\nhumbly take it or starve. Not one word escaped the lips of any of this\ncharitable assemblage in recognition of the element of justice. To know\nthat 200,000 fellow men and women were on the verge of starvation excited\ntheir human sympathies; but that the starving horde were starving because\nprivileged drones and titled parasites revel in unearned incomes,\nclearly manifest as is the relation here of cause and effect, did not\nconcern the relief meeting. It was something like this that Tolstoy had\nin mind when with characteristic simplicity and directness he said: \u201cThe\nrich are willing to do anything for the poor people but get off their\nbacks.\u201d\u2014_Chicago Public._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Democratic mule is dead.\n\nThe last echo of his heroic brays has died away.\n\nHis tail lies limp on the bare ground, like the banner of a defeated army.\n\nHis ears lop together and lie stiff and lifeless, like fallen flagstaffs\nfrom the conquered walls of a dismantled fortress.\n\nThere is no breath to moisten the lips that gave forth such pleasant\nmusic.\n\nAround him stand the doctors.\n\nThe autopsy begins.\n\nDr. Bryan gently, almost lovingly, lifts the tail of the corpse and\nexamines it carefully.\n\n\u201cIt was Spinal Belmontitis,\u201d he says. \u201cThat\u2019s what killed him.\u201d\n\nDr. Gumshoe Stone is down on the ground examining the ears.\n\n\u201cI think it was Parkeritis.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt might be a complication of both,\u201d answered Dr. Bryan.\n\nDr. Tillman gritted his teeth and spit like a cat.\n\n\u201cI know a name for it,\u201d he hissed, \u201cbut I have no language to express it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI pronounce it damphoolishness,\u201d answered Dr. Hogg, of Texas.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a slow disease,\u201d chimed in Dr. Daniel.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s had it a long time,\u201d said Dr. Hearst.\n\n\u201cBut it never affected his voice,\u201d suggested Dr. Williams.\n\nDr. Bryan blushed and dropped the mule\u2019s tail.\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s try a reorganization battery on him,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s been organized and reorganized too often now,\u201d grunted Hogg.\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s prop him up anyhow; maybe we can ride him again,\u201d insisted Dr.\nBryan.\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s rest,\u201d the others said, and they all sat down.\u2014_Morgan\u2019s Buzz-Saw._\n\n\n\n\n                         _Influence of Letters_\n\n\nJOHNSON\u2014What do you think of those correspondence schools?\n\nBRONSON\u2014I guess love is about the only thing in this world you can learn\nby correspondence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                              _A Bad Break_\n\nSUITOR\u2014I\u2019d marry your daughter if she didn\u2019t have a single dollar.\n\nROCKSEY\u2014Then you\u2019re a bigger fool even than I thought you were. Get out\nof my house at once.\n\n\n\n\n                              _News Record_\n\n                    FROM FEBRUARY 7 TO MARCH 7, 1905\n\n\n                        _Government and Politics_\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014The Navy Department awards contracts for armor plate to two\ncompanies belonging to the Steel Trust, notwithstanding the fact that the\nMidvale Steel Co., which is outside the Trust, underbid the other two\ncompanies $56 per ton, or over $75,000 in the aggregate. Secretary of the\nNavy Paul Morton says the award was made because he feared the Midvale\nSteel Co. could not furnish the plates on time.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014The charge is made in the Wyoming Legislature that United\nStates Senator Francis E. Warren has three persons on the payroll who are\nnever in Washington and that the salaries are turned over to Warren. A\nresolution to investigate the charge is tabled.\n\n    The National Red Cross Society is reorganized with Honorable\n    William H. Taft, Secretary of War, at its head.\n\n    Honorable Judson Harmon, of Cincinnati, and F. M. Judson, of\n    St. Louis, are appointed special attorneys to investigate the\n    granting of rebates by the Santa F\u00e9 Railroad.\n\n    Representative Comerford is expelled from the Illinois\n    Legislature for making charges of graft against the members.\n\nFebruary 9.\u2014The President signs the bill providing for the building of\nrailroads in the Philippines.\n\nFebruary 10.\u2014The United States takes over the custom house collections at\nMonte Cristi, Santo Domingo.\n\nFebruary 11.\u2014It is announced at the White House that all the members of\nthe Cabinet will be reappointed except Postmaster-General Wynne, who will\nbe made Consul-General at London. George B. Cortelyou, Chairman of the\nRepublican National Committee, will be the new Postmaster-General.\n\nFebruary 13.\u2014Secretary of State Hay announces that the arbitration\ntreaties, because of Senate amendments, will not be presented to the\ngovernments with which they were originally negotiated.\n\n    President Roosevelt, speaking at a Lincoln Day banquet in New\n    York, defines his position on the race question.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014The President sends the Santo Domingo treaty to the Senate,\nwith a letter upholding the Monroe Doctrine, but insisting that the\nsmaller American republics must pay their debts.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014President Roosevelt orders a thorough investigation of the\nStandard Oil Trust in accordance with the House resolution.\n\n    Secretary of the Interior Hitchcock calls the lease of the\n    oil lands of the Osage Indians to the Standard Oil interests\n    \u201ca public scandal.\u201d This lease was made during President\n    Cleveland\u2019s second term.\n\nFebruary 17.\u2014Six supporters of J. Edward Addicks desert him in the\nDelaware Senatorial fight.\n\n    Government agents start to Kansas to conduct the inquiry into\n    the Standard Oil Co.\n\n    The West Virginia State Senate appoints a committee to\n    investigate the charges that the Governor of the State has been\n    in collusion with Standard Oil agents.\n\nFebruary 18.\u2014Isthmian Canal Commissioners assert that they are authorized\nby the President to retain fees received as directors of the Panama\nRailway.\n\n    President Roosevelt receives a portrait of the Empress Dowager\n    of China, sent as an evidence of China\u2019s good will to the\n    United States.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014Ex-Chief-Justice Alton B. Parker appears before the New\nYork Court of Appeals to argue a case in favor of the New York City\nInterborough Railway Company, whose chief owner is August Belmont.\n\n    The United States Supreme Court sustains the Kansas Anti-Trust\n    law, affirming sentence of fine and imprisonment against Edmund\n    J. Smiley, an agent of the Missouri Pacific Railway Company.\n\n    A special committee of the California Legislature recommends\n    the expulsion of five State Senators on the charge of\n    soliciting and accepting bribes.\n\n    The Kansas Legislature, by concurrent resolution, asks the\n    annulment of the Government\u2019s blanket lease of Osage lands to\n    the Standard Oil Company.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014The Government begins criminal prosecution of the Beef Trust\nbefore a Grand Jury at Chicago called especially for that purpose.\n\n    Despite the protests against it, Secretary Hitchcock decides to\n    extend the leases of the Osage Indian oil lands.\n\n    The Illinois Legislature orders an investigation of the oil\n    pipe lines of the State, and offers to loan the State of\n    Kansas $100,000 to aid in the fight against the Standard Oil\n    monopoly.\n\n    While J. Edward Addicks has lost all but about fifteen of his\n    supporters in the Delaware Legislature, these decide to make\n    the deadlock permanent and thus prevent the election of a\n    United States Senator at this session.\n\n    President Truesdale, of the Lackawanna Railroad, criticizes\n    President Roosevelt\u2019s attitude on rate legislation.\n\n    At a dinner of the National Roosevelt League given in New York\n    a criticism of the President\u2019s message of condolence on the\n    death of the Grand Duke Sergius was loudly cheered.\n\nFebruary 23.\u2014The Interstate Commerce Commission hands down a decision\nthat the Santa F\u00e9 and Southern Pacific railroads have violated the law by\nentering into a pool.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014The Department of Justice begins an investigation of the\nTobacco Trust.\n\n    The Board of Trade of New York City decides to begin a campaign\n    to force an investigation of the Telephone Trust.\n\n    Governor Edwin Warfield, of Maryland, in a speech in New York\n    warmly commends President Roosevelt\u2019s policy on the negro\n    question.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014The Isthmian Canal Commission reports in favor of the Panama\nCanal being constructed at sea level with two or three sets of locks.\n\n    Despite the higher offer made by Kansas citizens, President\n    Roosevelt decides that the lease of Osage oil lands to the\n    Standard Oil interests must stand.\n\n    The Democrats of Chicago nominate Judge Edward F. Dunn for\n    Mayor on a municipal ownership platform.\n\n    Secretary of the Treasury Leslie M. Shaw defends the action of\n    his predecessor, Lyman J. Gage, in selling the New York Custom\n    House to the City Bank.\n\n    Joseph V. Quarles, of Wisconsin, whose term as United States\n    Senator ends March 4, is appointed United States District\n    Judge. The La Follette men bitterly oppose the appointment.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014Four members of the California State Senate are expelled\nfrom that body for accepting bribes.\n\n    The United States Supreme Court sustains the Texas Anti-Trust\n    Act under which two oil companies were forced to give up their\n    licenses as a penalty for pooling.\n\nFebruary 28.\u2014Word is received at Washington that Colombia will resume\ndiplomatic relations with the United States.\n\nMarch 1.\u2014Secretary of State Hay, in a letter to the Haytian minister,\nsays that the United States has no intention to annex Santo Domingo and\n\u201cwould not take it as a gift.\u201d\n\n    In the contest for the Governorship of Colorado, thirteen\n    Republican members of the committee appointed to conduct\n    the contest report in favor of seating ex-Governor James H.\n    Peabody, nine Democratic members sign a report favorable to\n    Governor Alva Adams and five Republican members refuse to sign\n    either report.\n\nMarch 3.\u2014Commissioner of Corporations James R. Garfield reports on the\nBeef Trust, his findings generally favoring the packers.\n\n    Former Land Commissioner Binger Hermann, of Oregon, is indicted\n    in Washington for destroying public records.\n\nMarch 4.\u2014Theodore Roosevelt is sworn in as President of the United States\nin the presence of the largest assemblage and the most elaborate military\ndisplay ever seen at an inauguration.\n\n\n                        _The Doings of Congress._\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014The Senate passes the Statehood bill, but amends it to admit\nNew Mexico as one State, leaving Arizona as a Territory. Oklahoma and\nIndian Territory constitute one State, as in the House bill.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014The electoral vote is canvassed by a joint session of the\nHouse and Senate, and the result is declared as 336 for Roosevelt and\nFairbanks, to 140 for Parker and Davis.\n\n    The Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs disregards the wishes\n    of the President and amends the arbitration treaties by\n    striking out in each the word \u201cagreement\u201d and substituting\n    therefor the word \u201ctreaty.\u201d\n\n    C. W. Post, of the Postal Progress League, asks the Senate to\n    expel Thomas C. Platt, of New York, on the ground that Platt is\n    the President of the United States Express Co., and is not a\n    fair representative of the people on any question involving the\n    interests of that corporation.\n\nFebruary 9.\u2014The Townsend-Esch bill, giving the Interstate Commerce\nCommission power to fix railroad rates, passes the House by a vote of 326\nto 17.\n\nFebruary 10.\u2014The Senate begins the impeachment trial of Judge Charles\nSwayne, of Florida.\n\n    The House Republicans decide to stand by their own Statehood\n    bill, refusing to concur in the Senate amendments.\n\nFebruary 11.\u2014The Senate, by an overwhelming vote, amends the arbitration\ntreaties, thus virtually breaking with the President. It insists that all\ntreaties must be ratified by the Senate.\n\n    Testimony was introduced in the Swayne impeachment trial to\n    show that the defendant had falsely certified his expenses.\n\nFebruary 13.\u2014Representative John A. Sullivan, of Massachusetts, makes a\nsensational attack on Representative William R. Hearst, of New York, and\nMr. Hearst in reply shows that Sullivan was once indicted for murder in\nMassachusetts.\n\n    Senator Bacon, of Georgia, introduces a resolution calling for\n    the facts relative to the United States seizing custom houses\n    in Santo Domingo.\n\nFebruary 14.\u2014Senators Lodge and Spooner defend the action of the Senate\nin amending the arbitration treaties.\n\n    Representative Littlefield, of Maine, warns Congress that it is\n    riding for an $80,000,000 deficit.\n\n    The Senate passes the Agricultural Appropriation bill, but\n    amends it by prohibiting drawbacks on wheat imported to make\n    flour for export.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014The House, by unanimous vote, adopts a resolution introduced\nby Representative Campbell, of Kansas, which directs the Department of\nCommerce and Labor to investigate the Standard Oil Trust.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014The House declares the Senate\u2019s amendment of the\nAgricultural Appropriation bill a violation of the Constitution.\n\n    The House passes the bill for the government of the Panama\n    Canal zone.\n\nFebruary 17.\u2014The House Committee investigating the Panama Railway hears\ntestimony to the effect that the commissioners pocket the fees paid them\nas directors. The Senate withdraws its amendment to the Agricultural\nAppropriation bill.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014By the aid of 46 Democratic votes the Naval Appropriation\nbill, providing for two new battleships, passes the House.\n\n    Representative Baker, of New York, denounces President\n    Roosevelt for having sent a message of condolence on the death\n    of the Grand Duke Sergius.\n\n    Representative William R. Hearst introduces a bill to make\n    oil pipe lines common carriers, thus taking them out of the\n    exclusive control of the Standard Oil Company.\n\n    Friends of the freight-rate bill announce that they have\n    abandoned hope of its becoming a law at this session.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014A letter is made public from former Senator William E.\nChandler, of New Hampshire, to Senator Elkins, Chairman of the Senate\nCommittee on Interstate Commerce, urging the passage of the rate bill and\npredicting that, if this is not done, government ownership of railroads\nwill result.\n\n    The Senate Committee on Naval Affairs decides to report\n    favorably the House bill providing for two additional\n    battleships.\n\n    Senator T. M. Patterson, of Colorado, says that if the\n    government does not control the railways the people will demand\n    absolute government ownership.\n\nFebruary 23.\u2014The House Indian Committee decides to investigate the Osage\noil land lease.\n\n    Senator Chauncey M. Depew declares in favor of government\n    regulation of railroad rates.\n\n    Stuyvesant Fish, President of the Illinois Central Railroad,\n    tells the Senate Committee on Interstate Commerce that\n    President Roosevelt, in a private conference, urged reduction\n    of freight rates as long ago as 1902.\n\n    The House and Senate conferees on the Army Appropriation bill\n    decide to give General Miles retired pay instead of full pay,\n    as at present.\n\n    The Senate passes the Panama Canal bill with the clause\n    destroying the Panama Canal Commission stricken out.\n    Representative Bishop, of Michigan, attacks the River and\n    Harbor bill and accuses fellow-members of being under the\n    influence of the Great Lakes dredge owners.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014The item of $130,600 for the rent of the old New York Custom\nHouse from the City Bank (Standard Oil) is stricken from the Civil\nAppropriation bill by the Committee of the Whole House. Mr. Sulzer (Dem.)\nleads in the attack on this item, and the vote striking it out is 90 to\n77.\n\n    Representative Vandiver, of Missouri, attacks the Armor Plate\n    Trust and asks the Attorney-General why it has not been\n    prosecuted.\n\n    Senator Morgan, of Alabama, starts a filibuster against the\n    Statehood bill.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014Senator Hale, of Maine, makes sarcastic references to the\nAdministration policy of \u201cbrowbeating smaller Powers.\u201d\n\n    Arguments are concluded in the impeachment case of Judge\n    Charles Swayne.\n\n    Senator Morgan, of Alabama, lodges with the Senate Foreign\n    Affairs Committee a formal protest against the action of\n    President Roosevelt relating to Santo Domingo.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014Senator Dryden, of New Jersey, at the supposed request of\nthe President, introduces a bill establishing Federal supervision of\ninsurance.\n\n    Democratic leaders bitterly attack the President\u2019s foreign\n    policy in both the House and Senate.\n\n    The Senate votes in favor of the House appropriation for two\n    additional battleships.\n\n    The Democrats of the House prevent the reinstatement of the\n    appropriation for rent to the City Bank of New York, enough\n    Republicans joining them to reverse the ruling of the Chair.\n\n    The Senate, sitting as an Impeachment Court, declares Judge\n    Charles Swayne, of Florida, innocent of all the charges against\n    him.\n\n    The House Committee on Interstate and Foreign Commerce resumes\n    its investigation of the Panama Canal and Railroad, and brings\n    out testimony to the effect that supplies were bought without\n    bids, and that the President\u2019s instructions were not always\n    heeded.\n\n    The Naval Appropriation bill, as amended by the Senate, directs\n    the Secretary of the Navy to investigate the cost of armor\n    plate and report to the next Congress.\n\nFebruary 28.\u2014The Senate votes an amendment to the Indian Appropriation\nbill providing that a portion of the educational fund may go to sectarian\nschools.\n\n    Senator Kearns, of Utah, in his farewell speech, makes a\n    sensational attack on the Mormon Church, which he says is ruled\n    by a \u201cmonarchy.\u201d\n\nMarch 1.\u2014The day is spent on the appropriation bills, a large number of\nwhich are agreed to in conference, and pass both houses. The Senate does\nnot attempt to reinstate the item for the rent of the New York Custom\nHouse from the Rockefeller bank. An objection by Representative Baker, of\nNew York, prevents the President\u2019s salary from being raised to $75,000.\nThe House votes itself $190,000 for mileage for the \u201cconstructive recess.\u201d\n\nMarch 2.\u2014Both houses spend the day on the appropriation bills. The Senate\nadopts the Kean resolution for a railroad rate inquiry during the recess.\n\n    The Senate kills the $190,000 mileage grab of the House.\n\nMarch 3.\u2014The Fifty-eighth Congress practically completes its work, both\nhouses agreeing on all appropriation bills. Freight-rate legislation and\nthe Statehood bill go over to the next Congress.\n\nMarch 4.\u2014The Fifty-eighth Congress ends and the new Senate convenes in\nspecial session.\n\n\n                           _General Home News_\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014August W. Machen and the Groff brothers, the Post-Office\nDepartment officials convicted in the postal fraud cases, and whose\nsentence has just been confirmed by the United States Supreme Court, are\ntaken to prison.\n\n    It is announced that an international parcels post is to be\n    established between Great Britain, France and the United States.\n\n    The Standard Oil interests are reported to have made a\n    $20,000,000 purchase of stock, thus securing control of the\n    Santa F\u00e9 Railroad system.\n\n    The Interstate Commerce Commission hears the charges brought\n    against the Coal Trust by the Honorable William R. Hearst.\n\n    The Board of Aldermen of New York City takes steps for the\n    construction of a municipal electric-lighting plant.\n\n    The State of Kansas continues its war on the Standard Oil\n    Trust, the State Senate passing three bills providing for the\n    erection of a State oil refinery, for making pipe lines common\n    carriers, and for fixing freight rates in oil.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014Henry C. Frick, of the Steel Trust, and Henry H. Rogers, of\nthe Standard Oil Company, are elected directors of the Santa F\u00e9 Railroad.\n\n    Elihu Root, former Secretary of War, leads an attack on the\n    constitutionality of the New York State Barge Canal, which is\n    opposed by the railroads, and which was supported by such an\n    overwhelming majority in last fall\u2019s election.\n\nFebruary 10.\u2014In the hearing of the Hearst case against the Coal Trust,\nthe attorney of the Trust says in effect that the United States has no\npower over the corporation.\n\nFebruary 13.\u2014The Federal Grand Jury returns new indictments against\nSenator Mitchell and Representatives Hermann and Williamson, of Oregon,\nin the public land fraud cases.\n\nFebruary 14.\u2014A sensational war in high finance is begun between President\nAlexander, of the Equitable Life Assurance Association, and James H.\nHyde, its First Vice-President and majority stockholder.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014The Kansas House of Representatives passes the bill for a\nState oil refinery already passed by the Senate.\n\n    The New York Legislature adopts a resolution directing an\n    investigation of the Telephone Trust.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014A truce is patched up between the warring factions of the\nEquitable Life Association on the promise of Vice-President Hyde to\nmutualize the company.\n\nFebruary 17.\u2014Governor Hoch, of Kansas, signs the bill appropriating\n$400,000 for the erection of a State oil refinery.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014Mrs. Jefferson Davis, in a letter to the public press,\nscores General Nelson A. Miles for having placed her husband in irons,\nand asks General Miles to publish a photographic copy of her alleged\nletter of thanks.\n\n    An explosion in a coal mine at Virginia, Ala., entombs 160 men.\n\n    Thomas W. Lawson, in _Everybody\u2019s Magazine_, continues his\n    story of the formation of the Amalgamated Copper Company,\n    outlines its devious operations under Standard Oil, accuses\n    James M. Beck, ex-Assistant Attorney-General of the United\n    States, of perjury, and attacks James H. Eckels, ex-Comptroller\n    of the Currency, for his part in the infamous Cleveland bond\n    deal.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014Mayor George B. McClellan and ex-Mayor Seth Low, of New\nYork, appear before the Legislature at Albany to plead for a larger\nwater supply for New York City, claiming that a few dry years would bring\na water famine to the metropolis.\n\n    President Mellen, of the New York, New Haven & Hartford\n    Railroad, refuses to arbitrate with the firemen who threaten a\n    strike.\n\n    Fifty of the 160 miners entombed by the explosion at Virginia,\n    Ala., are known to be dead, and little hope is entertained for\n    the remainder.\n\n    A manuscript copy of one of Edgar Allan Poe\u2019s poems sells for\n    $1,000 in New York.\n\n    John W. Gates and Joseph H. Hoadley claim to have secured\n    control of the Tennessee Coal & Iron Company.\n\nFebruary 22.\u2014Washington\u2019s Birthday is generally celebrated throughout\nthe United States and foreign nations. President Roosevelt is the chief\norator at the University of Pennsylvania, which institution confers\nthe degree of LL.D. on himself and Emperor William of Germany. A bust\nof Washington is presented to Congress by M. Jusserand, the French\nAmbassador.\n\n    A \u201cboodle fund\u201d of $60,000 is produced in court at the trial\n    of Charles Kratz at Butler, Mo. Thomas K.. Niedringhaus,\n    Republican nominee for United States Senator, is summoned as a\n    witness in the case.\n\n    Professor William Osler, in his farewell address to Johns\n    Hopkins University, states that men after forty years of age\n    are \u201ccomparatively useless,\u201d and after sixty are entirely so.\n\n    President William R. Harper, of the University of Chicago,\n    undergoes an operation for cancer while thousands of students\n    and friends pray for his recovery. Physicians find cancer, but\n    are unable to remove it.\n\n    Colonel William F. Cody, \u201cBuffalo Bill,\u201d says he will apply\n    to Howard Gould, the millionaire, for $125,000 furnished Mrs.\n    Howard Gould when she was an actress.\n\nFebruary 23.\u2014General Nelson A. Miles, in the _Independent_, makes a\nrejoinder to those who had criticized him for placing Jefferson Davis\nin irons, publishing several letters, among them a note from Mrs. Davis\nthanking him for \u201ckind answers,\u201d and begging him to look after her\nhusband\u2019s health.\n\n    Standard Oil stocks drop 10 points, or $41,000,000 in nine days.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014The New York State Factory Inspector finds immigrant boys\nwho are virtually made slaves and compelled to work twenty hours a day\nwithout pay.\n\n    Governor Vardaman, of Mississippi, employs troops to protect\n    from lynching a negro accused of having assaulted a white girl.\n\n    Frank H. Monnett, ex-Attorney-General of Ohio, reaches Topeka,\n    where he will assist in framing a case in the Supreme Court to\n    oust the Standard Oil Company from the State.\n\n    The plan for mutualizing the Equitable Life Assurance Society\n    fails, and the war between the Hyde and Alexander factions goes\n    on.\n\n    The Vanderbilt interests purchase a majority of the stock of\n    the Boston & Maine Railroad.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014Wall Street sees a wild day on the stock market because of a\nreported merger of the New York Central and Union Pacific railroads.\n\n    Independent crude oil producers and refiners of Kansas, Ohio,\n    Illinois and Indiana unite to fight the Standard Oil Company.\n\n    A two-million-dollar fire sweeps Hot Springs, Ark., causing\n    several deaths.\n\n    Richard Croker, former chief of Tammany Hall, sails for Ireland.\n\n    The Engineering Committee of the Isthmian Canal Commission\n    estimates that a sea-level canal can be constructed for\n    $230,500,000, and that the time occupied in building it will be\n    ten or twelve years.\n\nFebruary 26.\u2014A five-million-dollar fire sweeps the river front at New\nOrleans. Elevators and piers destroyed, entailing future loss of export\ntrade.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014By the collapse of the second floor of the African Methodist\nEpiscopal Zion Church, of Brooklyn, N. Y., eleven persons are killed and\nseveral score injured.\n\n    The Alexander-Hyde fight in the Equitable Life Assurance\n    Society is carried into the courts.\n\n    After making from $5,000,000 to $8,000,000 in wheat, John W.\n    Gates and his associates throw their holdings on the market,\n    causing a sharp decline.\n\nMarch 1.\u2014Three New York thieves testify that they have been dividing\nproceeds with the police to secure immunity from arrest.\n\nMarch 2.\u2014H. Rider Haggard, the celebrated British novelist, visits the\nUnited States for the purpose of studying colonization plans for the poor.\n\nMarch 6.\u2014A general strike is declared on all the Subway and Elevated\nlines of New York City.\n\n\n                        _The Russo-Japanese War_\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014A growing peace sentiment is manifest in Russia, and press\nand public are becoming more outspoken against the further prosecution of\na losing war.\n\n    General Kuropatkin sends word of a raid in which fifty Japanese\n    were killed.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014Admiral Togo returns to his flagship, and resumes sea duty.\n\n    Tokio hears of skirmishes near Mukden, in which the Russians\n    were defeated.\n\nFebruary 10.\u2014The Russians retire from Songchin in Northeastern Corea.\n\n    The Russian Baltic fleet is reported off Madagascar on its way\n    to the Far East.\n\n    General Stoessel says in answer to critics that he sacrificed\n    glory to humanity in surrendering Port Arthur.\n\nFebruary 12.\u2014Field Marshal Oyama reports two skirmishes in which the\nRussians are defeated.\n\nFebruary 13.\u2014General Kuropatkin reports that a Japanese cavalry raid\nhas destroyed several miles of railroad north of Mukden; also that the\nJapanese have resumed the bombardment of Lone Tree Hill.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014A large force of Russian cavalry moves against the Japanese\nleft in the vicinity of Heikontai.\n\n    The Russian third Pacific squadron sails from Libau on its way\n    east.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014Russian attacks at Waitao Mountain are repulsed, and the\ncavalry force, which moved against the Japanese left, is forced to\nretreat.\n\nFebruary 17.\u2014General Grippenberg, who was removed from his command in\nthe Russian army after the battle of Heikontai, is given an audience by\nthe Czar, and says that General Kuropatkin refused to support him when\nvictory was within reach.\n\nFebruary 18.\u2014The Russian strike closes a number of Government factories\nand interferes with manufacturing and shipping of war supplies.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014Russian cavalry passes Japanese left flank near Hun River.\nMovement of no special importance, and losses insignificant.\n\n    Russia\u2019s third Pacific naval squadron passes through the Great\n    Belt off Denmark on its way to join the Baltic squadron.\n\n    Tokio gives out semi-official statement that Japanese\n    casualties at the battle of Heikontai were near 10,000.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014Lieutenant-General Stoessel, former commandant at Port\nArthur, lands at Kaffa, Russia, on his return from the Far East, and is\nreceived by a cheering crowd.\n\nFebruary 22.\u2014A Cossack raid reaches nearly to the Yalu River, and\ndestroys a Japanese depot of supplies.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014The Japanese move northward along the eastern coast of\nKorea, fortify Port Lazareff and threaten Vladivostok.\n\n    The Japanese move forward in the Tsinkhetchin district, and\n    after desperate fighting force the Russians to abandon their\n    base at Beresneff Hill.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014A battle involving General Kuropatkin\u2019s left flank opens\nsouth of Mukden.\n\n    Mr. Kogoro Takahira, Japanese Minister to the United States,\n    says that his country has made no peace advances to Russia.\n\nFebruary 26.\u2014The battle brought on by the flank movement of the Russians\nis continued, and General Kuropatkin admits another defeat. Japanese\ncapture the city of Tsinkhetchin, drive in the Russian outposts and cross\nthe Sha River. It is reported that Oyama\u2019s artillery is even throwing\nshells into Mukden.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014A number of Russian naval officers returning from Port\nArthur are entertained by Count Cassini in Washington. Other Russian\nofficers from the same siege land at Victoria, British Columbia; in\ninterviews they speak disparagingly of General Stoessel, one expressing\nthe opinion that Stoessel showed himself to be \u201cnot a hero, but a coward.\u201d\n\n    Fighting continues about Mukden, the Japanese being the\n    aggressors. It is now certain that General Kuroki has captured\n    Tie Pass from the Russians.\n\nFebruary 28.\u2014The battle near Mukden becomes general along a 100-mile\nfront, and involving 700,000 men.\n\n    It is stated that the Cossacks lost 2,000 men at Tsinkhetchin.\n\nMarch 1.\u2014The Japanese make a terrific bombardment of Lone Tree or\nPutiloff Hill, employing for the purpose the great siege guns used at\nPort Arthur.\n\n    Fierce fighting rages over the Sha River bridge, which is\n    finally held by the Japanese.\n\n    Field Marshal Oyama gradually forces the Russians back in the\n    general battle about Mukden.\n\nMarch 2.\u2014The Russian flanks are pushed backward and Kuropatkin\u2019s entire\narmy continues to retire before the onslaughts of the Japanese.\n\nMarch 3.\u2014General Kuropatkin is in retreat toward Tie Pass and a portion\nof Oyama\u2019s army reaches a point eleven miles west of Mukden.\n\n    The battle around Mukden continues, the results generally\n    favoring the Japanese.\n\nMarch 4.\u2014General Kuropatkin\u2019s left flank suffers and his position grows\nstill more critical.\n\nMarch 5.\u2014A fierce artillery engagement rages throughout the day and\nMarshal Oyama continues his flanking movement.\n\nMarch 6.\u2014General Kuropatkin is hemmed in and vigorously attacks the\nJapanese left centre. Marshal Oyama relentlessly tightens his lines in an\nendeavor to trap his foe.\n\n\n                         _General Foreign News_\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014As a result of the massacre of Russian citizens on January\n22, the Social Democratic Party of Russia calls on workmen to march on\nthe Czar\u2019s palace with arms in their hands instead of ikons and petitions.\n\n    Father Gapon, the Russian revolutionary leader, is reported to\n    have escaped to Switzerland.\n\n    General Trepoff, the \u201cman of iron\u201d who has been placed at the\n    head of the police system at St. Petersburg, threatens to close\n    the universities because of the revolutionary sentiment there\n    existing.\n\n    Disorders continue in Russian Poland, and several strikers are\n    killed by the troops.\n\n    The assassin of Soisalon Soininen, Procurator-General of\n    Finland, is identified a former student at one of the Finnish\n    universities.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014Because of the failure of the employers to concede the\ndemands of their workingmen, new strikes are declared at St. Petersburg,\nVassili Ostroff and other points in Russia.\n\n    Strikers tear up the Siberian Railway east of Irkutsk.\n\n    Maxim Gorky, the Russian novelist, is questioned in court and\n    afterward returned to prison.\n\n    The students of one of the St. Petersburg schools refuse to\n    attend lectures because of police interference.\n\n    Because of the continued state of disorder in Russian Poland,\n    many refugees leave the country.\n\n    The new protocol between the United States and Santo Domingo\n    is signed at Santo Domingo. It provides for the territorial\n    integrity of the island republic and for ratification by the\n    United States Senate.\n\n    The British Government decides that John H. Gaynor and Benjamin\n    H. Greene, American refugees in Canada, may be extradited and\n    returned to the United States.\n\n    King Oscar, of Sweden, turns over the government to Crown\n    Prince Gustav.\n\nFebruary 9.\u2014Many strikers are killed by the troops at Sosnovice, Russian\nPoland.\n\n    M. Rouvier, the new Premier of France, submits a bill\n    absolutely divorcing church and state.\n\n    German mine strikers denounce the action of their leaders in\n    voting to return to work, and thousands decide to continue the\n    struggle.\n\nFebruary 10.\u2014Over sixty strikers are killed and hundreds are wounded by\ntroops at Sosnovice and Lodz in Russian Poland.\n\n    Strikes are being renewed to such an extent in St. Petersburg\n    that the authorities are growing apprehensive.\n\nFebruary 11.\u2014Prince Paul Dolgorouki says that the Czar must call a Zemsky\nSober (a popular assembly) if he would avoid a revolution.\n\n    The strike at Lodz now involves 100,000 men.\n\n    Four thousand ironworkers strike at Kharkoff.\n\n    Disquieting conditions are reported at Batoum in the Caucasus,\n    with a general tie-up of railway lines in the vicinity.\n\nFebruary 12.\u2014Three aeronauts make a balloon voyage from London to Paris\nin a little over six hours.\n\n    The Czar promises a commission, including workingmen, to deal\n    with the labor problem.\n\n    Russian conscripts and reserves mutiny in several provinces.\n    Cossacks kill eighteen at Kieff and wound over eighty.\n\n    Franz Kossuth, the leader of the Hungarian Independence Party,\n    is received in audience by the Austrian Emperor.\n\nFebruary 13.\u2014The Russian Cabinet decides to adopt reform measures,\nincluding some sort of concessions to the workingmen.\n\n    Arguments are concluded in the North Sea case before the\n    International Commission at Paris. Decision, it is announced,\n    will be handed down at a later date.\n\n    It is reported from Essen that the German coal strike, which\n    has been one of the most important industrial struggles in\n    German history, is ended.\n\nFebruary 14.\u2014King Edward opens the British Parliament. The speech from\nthe throne contains no significant passages.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014The strike in Warsaw again becomes general.\n\n    The Emperor of China approves a plan for a parliament of the\n    empire\u2019s leading officials.\n\n    President Castro, of Venezuela, refuses to arbitrate the\n    asphalt claims and other disputes between that country and the\n    United States.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014The strike at St. Petersburg, which was reported to be\nabating, breaks out with renewed force.\n\n    On a test vote the Balfour government is sustained in the\n    British House of Commons by a majority of 63.\n\n    The Venezuela Supreme Court reaffirms its order sequestrating\n    the lands belonging to the American Asphalt Company.\n\nFebruary 17.\u2014The Grand Duke Sergius, uncle and brother-in-law of the Czar\nand the most reactionary and influential of the Grand Ducal clique, is\nblown to pieces by a bomb in the Kremlin, Moscow. The assassin, who is\ndressed in the garb of a workingman, is arrested.\n\nFebruary 18.\u2014The Russian strike spreads to the employees of many railways\nand to the telegraphers.\n\n    Two Russian officials are assassinated in Transcaucasia.\n\n    Consternation reigns among the rulers of Russia, and members of\n    the royal family do not venture to appear in public.\n\n    The British Government announces that in 1911 it will take over\n    the entire property of the National Telephone Company.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014Three thousand Russian students and professors, in mass\nmeeting, denounce the Czar, demand constitutional government and shut up\nthe University of St. Petersburg till September.\n\n    Martial law is declared at Tsarskoe-Selo, the residence of the\n    Czar.\n\n    China expresses the desire to pay all her indemnity at once,\n    but some of the Powers object, as it deprives certain officials\n    of commissions and interest.\n\n    Sir John E. Redmond leads an Irish attack on the British\n    ministry.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014The Home Rule amendment offered by Sir John E. Redmond is\ndefeated in the British House of Commons, and the Balfour government is\nsustained, but by the reduced majority of 50.\n\n    A general revolt against the Russian Government is reported\n    throughout the entire Caucasus region.\n\nFebruary 22.\u2014The Armenians seize three towns in the Caucasus.\n\n    Sir John E. Redmond renews his attack on the Balfour ministry,\n    and the government majority is still further reduced to 42.\n\n    Polish disturbances continue, and all trains from Warsaw on the\n    Vienna line are discontinued.\n\n    Many bodies of slain strikers are found in the streets of Baku,\n    a town in the Caucasus.\n\n    Workmen destroy factories at Riga, Southern Russia.\n\nFebruary 23.\u2014The London _Times_ states that the Czar has decided to call\na Zemsky Sober, or popular assembly, to decide, among other things, as\nto the continuation of the war in the Far East. The German Court, on\nthe other hand, gives out the statement that the Czar is determined to\ncontinue the war.\n\n    The Tartars are turned loose on the Armenians in the Caucasus\n    revolt. The number of corpses found in the streets of Baku is\n    reported as high as 300. The revolt continues in other towns in\n    the region, 40,000 Georgians being involved.\n\n    The strike extends at Warsaw and more railway lines are tied up.\n\n    Leonide Andreef, a famous Moscow author, known as \u201cThe Little\n    Gorky,\u201d is arrested.\n\n    Funeral services are held over the remains of Grand Duke\n    Sergius at Moscow. The Czar attends a requiem at Tsarskoe-Selo.\n    Both ceremonies pass without special incident.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014An unsuccessful attempt is made to assassinate President\nMorales, of Santo Domingo. Five persons are arrested.\n\n    The famous Simplon Tunnel through the Alps, leading from\n    Switzerland to Italy, is completed.\n\n    It is announced from London that Sir Henry Irving, the famous\n    actor, is so broken in health that he may never again appear on\n    the stage.\n\n    A coffin believed to contain the long-sought remains of John\n    Paul Jones, the American Revolutionary naval hero, has been\n    found in Paris.\n\n    Strikes and rioting continue practically throughout the entire\n    Russian empire, many railway lines are tied up, and moujiks are\n    becoming fired with the idea of a general land division.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014The International Commission to inquire into the North Sea\nincident concludes its sittings in Paris and hands down its decision\nthat the action of Admiral Rojestvensky, commander of the Russian Baltic\nfleet, in firing on the British fishing vessels was unjustified.\n\n    The Warsaw railway strikes are reported partially settled, but\n    a street railway strike begins and disturbances continue.\n\n    Severe fighting between the Armenians and the Mussulmans\n    continues in the Caucasus region; leading officials and\n    merchants are assassinated at Batoum, and revolutionary\n    manifestoes in favor of a republic are circulated broadcast.\n\n    The Countess of Warwick begins an automobile tour of Great\n    Britain for the purpose of assisting the various labor\n    candidates for Parliament.\n\n    A general railway strike begins in Italy, the workmen being\n    dissatisfied with the treatment proposed to be given them under\n    the bill creating State management of railways.\n\n    It is announced that the Czar has decided not to call the\n    Zemsky Sober, and that he has irrevocably decided that the war\n    with Japan must go on.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014Maxim Gorky, the famous Russian novelist, is released from\nprison only to be rearrested by order of General Trepoff and banished to\nRiga.\n\n    President Morales lays before the Dominican Congress the\n    protocol with the United States.\n\n    Berlin\u2019s new cathedral is dedicated in the presence of the\n    Emperor and delegates from all parts of the world.\n\n    The Czar, in an effort to break the strike, orders a raise of\n    wages on State railroads and in Government arsenals.\n\n    The disturbances in Russian Poland are augmented by a serious\n    revolt of the peasantry in fifty villages.\n\n    A second Kishineff horror is reported from Theodosia in the\n    Crimea, where forty-seven Jews were killed and many more\n    injured in a recent massacre.\n\nFebruary 28.\u2014The strike situation in Russia grows steadily worse,\nespecially in Poland, where a coal famine is threatened.\n\n    The Russian Council of Ministers decides on more repressive\n    measures and definitely refuses to call the Zemsky Sober.\n\nMarch 1.\u2014The workmen selected by the Czar to organize a commission on the\nlabor situation meet and demand concessions from the Government before\ntaking further action.\n\n    Lord Selbourne is chosen British High Commissioner in South\n    Africa in place of Lord Milner, resigned.\n\nMarch 2.\u2014The Russian ministry votes to grant the people religious freedom.\n\n    The majority for the present British ministry is reduced to 24.\n\nMarch 3.\u2014The Czar calls a representative assembly, but without power\nexcept to consult and advise.\n\n    Rioting continues in Russian Poland and a general strike is\n    ordered at St. Petersburg.\n\nMarch 4.\u2014Cossacks kill nine students and wound many more at Tomsk.\n\nMarch 5.\u2014The Czar\u2019s action in calling an assembly has little or no\ninfluence on the Russian situation, which grows more grave.\n\n\n                               _Obituary._\n\nFebruary 7.\u2014Joseph H. Manley, prominent Republican politician, dies at\nhis home in Augusta, Me., aged 62.\n\nFebruary 8.\u2014Rear-Admiral Frank C. Cosby, of the United States Navy, dies\nat the age of 65.\n\nFebruary 9.\u2014Adolf von Menzel, famous German painter, dies in Berlin.\n\n    Chief-Justice Pardon E. Tillinghast, of the Supreme Court of\n    Rhode Island, dies at the age of 68.\n\n    Henry W. Blodgett, former United States District Judge, dies at\n    the age of 84.\n\nFebruary 11.\u2014Sylvester Scovel, the well-known war correspondent, dies in\nHavana, aged 36.\n\nFebruary 14.\u2014James C. Carter, leading New York lawyer, dies at the age of\n78.\n\nFebruary 15.\u2014General Lew Wallace, the celebrated author, dies at his home\nin Crawfordsville, Ind., aged 78.\n\n    William Cullen Bryant, publisher of the Brooklyn _Times_, dies\n    at the age of 56.\n\nFebruary 16.\u2014Jay Cooke, once famous as a financier, dies at the age of 83.\n\nFebruary 20.\u2014Norton P. Otis, Member of Congress from New York, dies at\nthe age of 65, at his home in Yonkers, N. Y.\n\nFebruary 21.\u2014Jacob Worth, well-known Brooklyn politician and race-track\nman, dies at Hot Springs, Ark.; age, 67.\n\nFebruary 23.\u2014W. F. G. Shanks, a well-known New York newspaper and\nmagazine editor, dies in Bermuda, aged 68.\n\nFebruary 24.\u2014Sidney Dillon Ripley, Treasurer of the Equitable\nLife Assurance Society, dies from the effects of an operation for\nappendicitis, at New York.\n\nFebruary 25.\u2014Edward Cooper, ex-Mayor of New York and only son of Peter\nCooper, dies at New York City, aged 81.\n\nFebruary 27.\u2014Honorable George S. Boutwell, former Governor of\nMassachusetts, United States Senator and Secretary of the Treasury, dies\nat his home at Groton, Mass., aged 87.\n\n    Harry Morris, well-known American comedian, dies at New York,\n    aged 49.\n\n    Henry C. Whitney, formerly one of Chicago\u2019s leading lawyers,\n    dies at Salem, Mass., aged 74.\n\n    Richard A. Donnelly, Quartermaster-General of New Jersey since\n    1890, dies at his home in Trenton, aged 64.\n\nMarch 1.\u2014Mrs. Jane Lathrop Stanford, widow of Leland Stanford and famous\nfor her gifts to education, dies suddenly in Honolulu. Subsequent\ninvestigation shows she was poisoned.\n\n    Edward O. Wolcott, former United States Senator from Colorado,\n    dies at Monte Carlo, Monaco, aged 56.\n\nMarch 4.\u2014H. L. Muldrow, Assistant Secretary of the Interior under\nPresident Cleveland, dies at Starkville, Miss.\n\n\n\n\n                            _Gobbled It All_\n\n\nSMITH\u2014Some of our rich men claim it isn\u2019t right to leave anything behind\nthem.\n\nSMYTHE\u2014That\u2019s their way exactly. Wherever they have been they have left\nmighty little behind them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                           _The Legal Acrobat_\n\nJUDSON\u2014How did that expert come to contradict himself on the second trial?\n\nBLUDSON\u2014The other side hired him.\n\n\n\n\nExtract from a three-column review in the _San Francisco Examiner_:\n\n          \u201cMr. Hastings has touched the very core of the\n        matter respecting the proclivities of our doddering\n        plutocracy. Throughout his book he has revealed\n        that plutocracy in its true light and shown it to\n        be something utterly conscienceless and debased.\n        No more scathing review of the situation, as it is\n        seen at present, could possibly be given in a work\n        of fiction.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                     =SHALL WE\n                            HAVE A\n                                KING?=\n\n          Will the United States be a monarchy in 1975?\n        Have you read \u201cTHE FIRST AMERICAN KING,\u201d by George\n        Gordon Hastings? It is a dashing romance in which\n        a scientist and a detective of today wake up\n        seventy-five years later to find His Majesty,\n        Imperial and Royal, William I, Emperor of the\n        United States and King of the Empire State of New\n        York, ruling the land, with the real power in the\n        hands of half a dozen huge trusts. Automobiles\n        have been replaced by pha\u00ebrmobiles; air-ships sail\n        above the surface of the earth; there has been a\n        successful war against Russia; a social revolution\n        is brewing. The book is both an enthralling\n        romance and a serious sociological study, which\n        scourges unmercifully the society and politics of\n        the present time, many of whose brightest stars\n        reappear in the future under thinly disguised\n        names. There are wit and humor and sarcasm\n        galore\u2014a stirring tale of adventure and a charming\n        love-story.\n\n                 Net $1.00, postpaid. All Booksellers,\n               or sent postpaid upon receipt of price by\n\n                       =TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE=\n             121 West 42d Street,           NEW YORK CITY\n\n\n\n\n=\u201cTOM WATSON\u201d=\n          is the one historian through whom we get the point of\n          view of the laborer, the mechanic, the plain man, in a\n          style that is bold, racy and unconventional. There is\n          no other who traces so vividly the life of a _people_\n          from the time they were savages until they became the\n          most polite and cultured of European nations, as he\n          does in\n\n=THE STORY OF FRANCE=\n\n       In two handsome volumes, dark red cloth, gilt tops, price $5.00.\n\n            \u201cIt is well called a story, for it reads like a\n          fascinating romance.\u201d\u2014_Plaindealer_, Cleveland.\n\n            \u201cA most brilliant, vigorous, human-hearted story\n          this: so broad in its sympathies, so vigorous in\n          its presentations, so vital, so piquant, lively and\n          interesting. It will be read wherever the history of\n          France interests men, which is everywhere.\u201d\u2014_New York\n          Times\u2019 Sat. Review._\n\n=NAPOLEON=\n          =A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, STRUGGLES\n          AND ACHIEVEMENTS.=\n\n          Illustrated with Portraits and Facsimiles.\n            Cloth, 8vo, $2.25 net. (Postage 20c.)\n\n            \u201cThe Splendid Study of a Splendid Genius\u201d is the\n          caption of a double-column editorial mention of this\n          book in _The New York American and Journal_ when it\n          first appeared. The comment urged every reader of that\n          paper to read the book and continued:\n\n            \u201cThere does not live a man who will not be enlarged\n          in his thinking processes, there does not live a boy\n          who will not be made more ambitious by honest study of\n          Watson\u2019s Napoleon * * *\n\n            \u201cIf you want the best obtainable, most readable, most\n          intelligent, most genuinely American study of this\n          great character, read Watson\u2019s history of Napoleon.\u201d\n\n=\u201cTOM WATSON\u201d=\n          in these books does far more than make history as\n          readable as a novel of the best sort. He tells the\n          truth with fire and life, not only of events and\n          causes, but of their consequences to and their\n          influence on the great mass of people at large. They\n          are epoch-making books which every American should\n          read and own.\n\n             Orders for the above books will be filled by\n TOM WATSON\u2019S MAGAZINE, 121 West 42nd Street, New York City.","title":"Tom Watson's Magazine, Vol. I, No. 2, April 1905","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":84189}