0901 E938 V.17. Library of Dei Videt Suh Ilumine Priuceton University. EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE Volume XVII JULY to DECEMBER, 1 907 ----- - -- NEW YORK THE RIDGWAY COMPANY, PUBLISHERS OPANY, PUBLISHED 1907 090 tur V.17 (JULY - DEC 1909) COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY INDEX PAGE . 723 · · · · · · 104 248 · · 361 · · · · · . 538 · · · · · · · · · · 136 · · 665 · · · · 324 · · · 512 · · · · · · · · · · · · 58 844 192 387 186 562 · · . · · · · 568 · ABBOTT, ELEANOR HALLOWELL. The Happy Day . . . . . . ADVENTURER, THE. By Lloyd Osbourne. Chapters XIII-XVI . . • . . . . . . . Chapters XVI-XIX. . . . Chapters XIX-XXV . . Chapters XXV-XXIX . . . . . . . . . . AFTER SUMMER RAIN (Poem). By V. F. Boyson : ALCHEMISTS, THE. By Katharine Holland Brown . . ALEXANDER. By Ben Blow . . . . . . . AMATEUR SKIPPER, THE. By Bert Leston Taylor . . ANDREWS, MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN. The Forgiveness of Sins ARISTOCRACY OF THE CIRCUS, THE. By Hartley Davis. . AS TO THE BLIND. By Will Irwin . . . . . AT DAYBREAK (Poem). By Charles Buxton Going . . . . . . . AUGUST (Poem). By Edward Wilbur Mason .. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE HUSBAND OF A CELEBRITY, THE . Cerpen:. . . . . . AUTUMN (Poem). By Arthur Stringer . . . . . . . . . . AWAY FROM TOWN (Poem). By Harry H. Kemp . . . BAITING OF ROSENTHAL, THE. By Henry C. Rowland BALANCE, THE (Poem). By Witter Bynner . . . BARRIERS (Poem). By Theodosia Garrison . . . . BECHDOLT, FRED R. On the Spur of the Moment. BINGHAM, EDFRID. Sangre de Cristo , . BLOW, BEN. Alexander . . . . . . . BOLCE, HAROLD. The Mystery of Bird-Flight. . BOYSON, V. F. After Summer Rain (Poem). . BRAIN AND BODY. By William Hanna Thomson, M.D., LL.D. BRAINERD, ELEANOR HOYT. A Damsel in Distress . . . . . . BRANDENBURG, BROUGHTON. Orealis McGoogin and the Fighting Wallaby . BROWNE, PORTER EMERSON. Doyle's Début BROWN, KATHARINE HOLLAND. The New Strong Wine of Spring . . . . . . . . . . The Alchemists . . . . . BUSINESS SIDE OF VAUDEVILLE, THE. By Hartley Davis BYNNER, WITTER. The Telegraph-Poles (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . The Balance (Poem) 615 . · · · 707 · . · · · · · . · · . . · · · · . · . 704 302 324 175 · · . · . . . . · · · · · . · · . 42 · . . . 672 414 · . · . . 68 665 · . · . . 41 . . . 707 . 86 . 212 . . 755 CABALLERO'S WAY, THE. By 0. Henry . CANFIELD, DOROTHY. A Pyrrhic Victory . . CASSON, HERBERT N. The Romance of the Reaper. I. CAT, THE (Poem). By Arthur Colton J onationAL EXHIBITION AT CELEBRATING A NEW IRELAND: THE INT DUBLIN. By Maude L. Radford . . 93 . . . . . . . 408 DEC :3:919 426350 Index 388 · . $32 · . · . Os 526 . · · . . · · . · . · . · . · . · . · . . · · . .. .. · . · . · . .. · .. ·· · PAGE CHANNING, GRACE ELLERY. “In An Even Balance." . . . . . 78 CHEAT OF OVERCAPITALIZATION, THE. II. By Will Payne . . . . . 17 CHILDREN OF THE LONG-AGO. By Vance Thompson. 745 CHILD, RICHARD WASHBURN. The Money . . CHRISTMAS AND THE SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY. By Samuel McChord Crothers. 794 CLARK, EDWARD B. Real Naturalists on Nature Faking . . 423 CLEGHORN, SARAH N. My Sister's Jane (Poem) . . . COLTON, ARTHUR. The Cat (Poem) . . . . . . COREY, ALICE. The Roads (Poem) . . COURLANDER, ALPHONSE. Twenty Francs . . . . . 847 CROTHERS, SAMUEL MCHORD. Christmas and the Spirit of Democracy . 794 CRUSADE AGAINST WAR, THE. By Vance Thompson . . . . . . CUTTING, MARY STEWART. The Measure . . . . . . . DAMSEL IN DISTRESS, A. By Eleanor Hoyt Brainerd . DAUGHTER OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION, A. By Leroy Scott. DAVIS, HARTLEY. The Aristocracy of the Circus . . . . . . . . . . . The Department Store at Close Range. The Business Side of Vaudeville . . 527 DEPARTMENT STORE AT CLOSE RANGE, THE. By Hartley Davis 312 DOYLE'S DEBUT. By Porter Emerson Browne . . . 833 DURANT, H. R. How Moriarty Escaped . . . . 222 EATON, WALTER PRICHARD. A Refuge in the Bronx. 519 ERROR OF CIRCUMSTANCE, THE. By Joseph Kocheli . . . . . . 130 “FANS" AND THEIR FRENZIES. By Allen Sangree . . . . . . . 378 FENOLLOSA, MARY. White Iris . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 FIFTH WHEEL, THE. By O. Henry . . . . . . . . . . 193 FILLMORE, PARKER H. The Hickory Limb . . 477 FISH, STUYVESANT. What Caused the Panic? A Symposium. Distrust of Wall Street Methods : : . . . . . . . . . 8320 FORGIVENESS OF SINS, THE. By Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews, . . . 3 GAGE, LYMAN J. What Caused the Panic? A Symposium. Weuk Currency System . 832a GARRISON, THEODOSIA. Barriers (Poem) . . . . . . . . . 85 GOING, CHARLES BUXTON. At Daybreak (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 Heart's Seasons (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 GOOD HUNTING (Poem). By Burges Johnson . . . . . . . . . 466 GOOD SHOT, A. By Charlotte Wilson . . 274 “GRAN'MA'S.” By Charlotte Wilson . . 132 GUEST OF QUESNAY, THE. By Booth Tarkington. Chapters I-IV . 601 Chapters V-VII . . . . . . . . . . . . HAPPY DAY, THE. By Eleanor Hallowell Abbott 723 HARD, WILLIAM. Making Steel and Killing Men . . 579 HARRIS, ELMER B. The Seamy Side of the Curtain . . 343 HEART'S SEASONS (Poem). By Charles Buxton Going . . . . 301 HENRY, O. The Caballero's Way . . . . . . 86 The Fifth Wheel . . . . . . . . . Phæbe . . . . . . . . . . . . 592 “Next to Reading Matter” . . . HEROISM OF MR. PEGLOW, THE. By E. J. Rath HIBBARD, GEORGE The Lawn Mower . . . . . . . . . . 458 HICKORY LIMB, TIE. By Parker H. Fillmore . . . . . . . . . 477 · · · · · ..... · · · · · ..... · . · · · . . · . . · · .. · · .. . 782 '. · . · . . · · .... · · · · .... · . . · . · . · · · · 193 . · · · · · · · · . · · . ....... · · ....... · 735 646 . · · · · · · · · · Index . · PAGE HILL, J. J. What Caused the Panic? A Symposium. There Is Plenty of Money 832d HOFFMAN, ARTHUR SULLIVANT. Patsy Moran and the Orange Paint . . 121 HOLT, BYRON W. What Caused the Panic? A Symposium. The Declining Value of Money 832d HONK-HONK BREED, THE. By Stewart Edward White . . . . . . . 34 HOOVER, BESSIE R. Opal's Half-Holiday . . . . . . . . . . . . 563 No Merry-Go-Roundin' . . . . . . . . . . . . . 699 HOW MORIARTY ESCAPED. By H. R. Durant , 222 HUNEKER, JAMES. Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty ? HUNTINGTON, HELEN. To Fire (Poem) . . . . . 774 HUSBAND OF A CELEBRITY, THE. An Autobiography . . . . . . 186 “IN AN EVEN BALANCE.” By Grace Ellery Channing . . IN BLACKWATER POT. By Charles G. D. Roberts, . 449 IN CLOAK OF GRAY (Poem). By Alfred Noyes . . 754 IRELAND, ARCHBISHOP. What Is a Good Man? A Symposium. A Lover of God 852 IRWIN, WILL. As to the Blind . . . . . 844 IS THERE AN AMERICAN TYPE OF FEMININE BEAUTY? By James Huneker . ...... · · 78 · .. · · · · 238 . . JOHNSON, BURGES A Llyric of the Llama (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Good Hunting (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . 466 JUDGMENT OF EVE, THE. By May Sinclair . . . . . . . . . 394 KATSURA, GENERAL COUNT TARA. What Is a Good Man? A Symposium. The Japanese Ideal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 858 KEMP, HARRY H. Away from Town (Poem) 568 KENNETT, JULIA. The Old House Beyond the Hills . . 767 KEYSTONE "CRIME: PENNSYLVANIA'S GRAFT-CANKERED CAPITOL. THE. By Owen Wister . · · · · · · · · · · · 435 KINGS OF HATE, THE. By Arthur Stringer . . . . . . . . . 810 KOCHELI, JOSEPH. “The Error of Circumstance . . . . . . . . 130 “LADIES' GAME, THE." By Gertrude Lynch . . . . . . . . . 627 LAWN-MOWER, THE. By George Hibbard . . . . . . . . . 458 LAWSON, THOMAS W. What Caused the Panic ? A Symposium. Fictitious Wealth .. · · · 832f What Is a Good Man? A Symposium. An Epigrammatic Composite. . 856 LITTLE STORIES OF REAL LIFE . . . . . . . . 130, 274, 699, 840 LLYRIC OF THE LLAMA, A (Poem). By Burges Johnson . LULLABY (Poem). By S. Weir Mitchell. .. LYNCH, GERTRUDE. “The Ladies' Game" : . MACKAY, JESSIE. Song of the Driftweed (Poem) . · . · · · · · · · 23 MAKING STEEL AND KILLING MEN. By William Hard MASON, EDWARD WILBUR. August (Poem) . 387 MEASURE, THE. By Mary Stewart Cutting . . . MITCHELL, S. WEIR. Lullaby (Poem) . MIRACLE WORKERS: MODERN SCIENCE IN THE INDUSTRIAL WORLD, THE. By Henry Smith Williams, LL.D. . . . . . . . . . 497 MONEY, THE. By Richard Washburn Child . . . . . . . . . . 388 MORRIS, GOUVERNEUR. The Parrot 278 MORTON, JOHNSON. The Saving Sense . . . . . . . . . . 333 MY SISTER'S JANE (Poem). Sarah N. Cleghorn . . MYSTERY OF BIRD-FLIGHT, THE. By Harold Bolce. · · · · · · · 554 793 · · · · . · ..: .... ...... . · · 832 175 . · . NATION OF VILLAGERS, A. By G. Bernard Shaw . . “NATURE FAKERS." By Theodore Roosevelt . . . NEWEST LAND OF PROMISE, THE. By G. W. Ogden . . . . . . . . . . : . 861 427 654 . Index 68 · ... · · . . ... · · · 563 D. PAGE NEW STRONG WINE OF SPRING, THE. By Katharine Holland Brown . . . “NEXT TO READING MATTER." By O. Henry . . . . . . . . 735 NO MERRY-GO-ROUNDIN'. By Bessie R. Hoover . . . . . . . . 699 NOYES, ALFRED. In Cloak of Gray (Poem) . . . . . OLD HOUSE BEYOND THE HILLS, THE. By Julia Kennett OGDEN, G. W. The Newest Land of Promise . . . . ONE VIEW (Poem). By Theodora Wilson Wilson . . . . . . . . . 185 ON THE SPUR OF THE MOMENT. By Fred R. Bechdolt. . 704 OPAL'S HALF-HOLIDAY. By Bessie R. Hoover OREALIS MCGOOGIN AND THE FIGHTING WALLABY. By Broughton Brandenburg 414 OSBOURNE, LLOYD. The Adventurer. Chapters AITAV Chapters XIII-XVI . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapters XVI-XIX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapters XIX-XXV. . . Chapters XXV-XXIX . . . . . . . . . . . . 538 PARROT, THE. By Gouverneur Morris . . . . PATSY MORAN AND THE ORANGE PAINT. By Arthur Sullivant lloffman . . 121 PAYNE, WILL. The Cheat of Overcapitalization. II . . PENDEXTER, HUGH. The Probationer and the Pennant. PHEBE. By O. Henry . . . PLAIN LABELS ON GERM ENEMIES. By William Hanna Thompson, M.D., LL. PLAYERS, THE . . . 682, 822 PROBATIONER AND THE PENNANT, THE. By Hugh Pendexter . . . . 265 PYRRHIC VICTORY, A. By Dorothy Canfield . . . . . . . . . 212 RADFORD, MAUDE L. Celebrating a New Ireland: The International Exhibition at Dublin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 488 RATH, E. J. The Heroism of Mr. Peglow . . . . . . . . . . 646 REAL NATURALISTS ON NATURE FAKING. By Edward B. Clark. 423 REFUGE IN THE BRONX, A. By Walter Prichard Eaton . . . . . . 519 RETURN OF SANTA CLAUS, THE. By Edwin L. Sabin 840 RICHARDSON, JAMES E. Within This Heart of Mine (Poem) . . . . 200 The Swamp Dogwood (Poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . 635 ROADS, THE (Poem). By Alice Corey , . ROBERTS, CHARLES G. D. In Blackwater Pot . . . . . . . 449 ROMANCE OF THE REAPER, THE. I. By Herbert N. Casson . . . . . 755 ROOSEVELT, THEODORE. “Nature Fakers " . . ROSS, PROF. EDWARD ALSWORTH. What Is a Good Man ? A Symposium. A Knight of Conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . 859 ROWLAND, HENRY C. The Baiting of Rosenthal . . . . . . . . 615 ROW OF BOOKS, A. By Johan Barrett . . . . . . . 137, 281, 569, 713 RUSSELL, CHARLES EDWARD The Suez Canal . · · · · · · · · · · · 94 Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? Chapters I-II . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 Chapters III-IV . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348 Chapters. V-VII . . . . . . . . . . 503 Chapters VIII-IX . Chapters X-XII . . . . 832g . . · . · . . . · · · . . 526 · · 427 . . . · . . . . . . . · . · . 636 . · · . . · · . . . . . . · . . · . · . SABIN, EDWIN L. The Return of Santa Claus SANGRE DE CRISTO. By Edfrid Bingham. . SANGREE, ALLEN. “Fans” and Their Frenzies . SAVING SENSE, THE. By Johnson Morton . SCHEFFAUER, HERMAN. The Sunken Admiral . · . 840 302 378 333 159 · . . . . . . . . . . · . . . . . . · Index · . . · . . · · . . . . . · · . . . . · · . . . . · . · . . . · · 810 . . . .. · · . . · · · 601 +92 · ..... . ..... ..... .... · · . · · . · PAGE SCOTT, LEROY. A Daughter of the Russian Revolution . . . . . . 467 The Travesty of Christ in Russia . . 800 SEAMY SIDE OF THE CURTAIN, THE. By Elmer B. II m . By Limer B. Tarris . . . . 343 SHAW, G. BERNARD. A Nation of Villagers . . . 861 SINCLAIR, MAY. The Judgment of Eve . . . . . 394 SMEDLEY, CONSTANCE. A Study in Emotions . . . . 218 SOME AMERICANS ABROAD. By Booth Tarkington . 168 SONG OF THE DRIFTWEED (Poem). By Jessie Mackay . - 23 STRAIGHT TALK. By “Everybody's" Readers . . . . 708 STRINGER, ARTHUR Autumn (Poem). . . . . . . . . 562 The Turn of the Year (Poem) . . 744 The Kings of Hate . . . . . . . . . . . . . STUDY IN EMOTIONS, A. By Constance Smedley. 218 SUEZ CANAL, THE. By Charles Edward Russell . . 94 SUMNER, W. G. What Caused the Panic? A Symposium. Indiscreet Denunciation and Laws 832b SUNKEN ADMIRAL, THE. By Herman Scheffauer. . . . . . . 159 SWAMP DOGWOOD, THIE (Poem). By James E. Richardson . . . . . . 635 TARKINGTON, BOOTH. Some Americans Abroad . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 The Guest of Quesnay. Chapters I-IV . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapters V-VII . . . . . . . . . . . . TAYLOR, BERT LESTON. The Amateur Skipper . . 512 TELEGRAPH-POLES, THE (Poem). By Witter Bynner . 41 THOMAS, EDITH M. The White Bell-Mare (Poem). 191 THOMPSON, VANCE The Crusade Against War . . . . . . . . . . . 291 Children of the Long-Ago . 745 THOMSON, WILLIAM HANNA, M.D., LL.D. Brain and Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 Plain Labels on Germ Enemies .. 691 THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. By Eugene Wood . . . . . . . 49 TO FIRE (Poem). By Helen Huntington . . . . . 774 TOMPKINS, JULIET WILBOR. Young Lady . 229 TRAVESTY OF CHRIST IN RUSSIA, THE. By Leroy Scott . 800 TURN OF THE YEAR, TIIE (Poem). By Arthur Stringer . . . . 744 TWENTY FRANCS. By Alphonse Courlander . . . . . . . • 847 UNDER THE SPREADING CHESTNUT TREE . . . . . 140, 284, 572, 716 WELLS, H. G. What Is a Good Man? A Symposium. The Socialist Ideal . . . 854 WHAT CAUSED THE PANIC? A Symposium. Weak Currency System. By Lyman J. Gage . . . . . . . . . 832a Indiscreet Denunciation and Laws. By W. G. Sumner. : : : : : : 832b Distrust of Wall Street Methods. By Stuyvesant Fish. 8320 There Is Plenty of Money. By J. J. Hill . . . . . . . . . . 832d The Declining Value of Money. By Byron W. Holt . 832d Fictitious Wealth. By Thomas W. Lawson . . . . . . . 832f WHAT IS A GOOD MAN? A Symposium. A Lover of God. By Archbishop Ireland 852 The Socialist Ideal. By H. G. Wells . An Epigrammatic Composite. By Thomas W. Lawson . . . . . . 856 The Japanese Ideal. By General Count Tara Katsura A Knight of Conscience. By Professor Edward Alsworth Ross . . WHAT IS THE HOUSE OF LORDS? By Arnold White . . . . . . . 24 · · .. .. .. .. · . · · · · ... . · .... · · . · ........ ........ · . · · . · . · · . · · · · . · · · · · · . · · · · . · · . · · · 854 · · . · · · · · · . · · · · 59 · · viii Index · · · 348 · · · · · · · · . . · · . · · · 24 . · 191 . . · · · PAGE WHERE DID YOU GET IT, GENTLEMEN? By Charles Edward Russell. Chapters I-II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 Chapters 111-IV · · · · · · · · · · · · · · Chapters V-VII . . . . . . . . . . . . . 503 Chapters VIII-IX . , 636 Chapters X-XII . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 832g WHITE, ARNOLD. What Is the House of Lords ? . WHITE BELL-MARE, THE (Poem). By Edith M. Thomas . . . . 191 WHITE IRIS. By Mary Fenollosa . . . . . . . . 147 WHITE, STEWART EDWARD. The Honk-Honk Breed.. . . . 34 WILLIAMS, HENRY SMITH. The Miracle Workers : Modern Science in the Industrial World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 497 WILSON, CHARLOTTE “Gran'ma's” . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 A Good Shot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 WILSON, THEODORA WILSON. One View (Poem). . • • . . . . 185 WISTER, OWEN. The Keystone Crime : Pennsylvania's Graft-Cankered Capitol . . 435 WITH “EVERYBODY'S” PUBLISHERS . . . . . 143, 287, 431, 575, 719, 866 WITHIN THIS HEART OF MINE (Poem). By James E. Richardson . . . .. 200 WOMEN OF THE BIBLE. Pictures in Color . . . . . . . . 775 WOOD, EUGENE. Three Hundred Years Ago . . . . . . . . . 49 YOUNG LADY. By Juliet Wilbor Tompkins . . . . .•. . · 229 July 17 DADS HOMES SALOON 500 w. Herber Dunjon HE SHOT UP A SALOON, KILLED THE TOWN MARSHAL AND THEN RODE AWAY -" The Cavallero's Way," page 80. EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE Vol. XVII. JULY, 1907 No. 1. The Forgiveness of Sins By MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS Author of "Bob and the Guides," "The Perfect Tribute," etc. Illustrations by Hermann C. Wall THE black-browed doctor, introspective of twenty is the exception. I've run over a bit I gaze, keen of glance, stared thought into the business of souls, which is your affair.” fully at the end of his cigar as he knocked the A swift glance shot from the dreamy eyes ash from the rail into the St. Lawrence River. and rested a moment on the younger man's The panorama of great hills swept slowly clean-shaven face—in spite of the tweed suit backward to the sound of the ship's steaming. that clothed the large limbs inconspicuously “That would be all very well,” he said, "if one knew that he was a clergyman. The you were sure of the equality of human re- doctor went on: sponsibility. But to my mind that's one of “I consider that a straight and sound soul the things of whose negation we may be sure. without twist or disease is as rare as that sort Your argument claims that all human beings of body. And I hold”—he stopped and must be answerable alike. You might as puffed slowly—“I hold that the moral sick- well set the first dozen of men picked from a ness is often as blameless, as much to be city street to a scratch high-jumping contest. pitied, as little to be condemned, as the phys- The chance is that you would strike a cripple ical.” He hesitated a second and spoke on crutches and a boy of ten and a chap with deliberately. “I believe in two or three things heart-disease-perhaps three out of twelve that some men of science do not: a personal would be approximately on a level. It's my God-forgiveness of sins—a life to come. business to do with men's bodies, and I find I am glad to think, and I think of it rather that a perfectly straight and healthy one after often, that if a limited vision such as mine sees Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. Everybody's Magazine more sadness than horror in the criminal the fair way with mixed entries?” The long records, it is quite likely that an infinite in- silver of the cigar ash, knocked against the telligence—the good Lord-knowing causes rail, fell into the sliding river. "I hope” — and excuses that we miss, may find mighty he added swiftly, and the odd, impersonal few cases beyond pardon. I believe in a for- eyes gathered a sudden suffusion of light- giveness of sins and a “I hope indeed we may life everlasting broader all win the prize, every than we dream. I be- pitiful soul of us, poor lieve that more than the beggars. You hope so, saints get to heaven." too,” he challenged the The big young clergy- clergyman, and as he man had pulled the hat said it he flung the last from his blond head as word from him, as if to if to leave his brain free get to a thought farther to catch the doctor's along. "There's a cir- thought. The curve of cumstance I remember his powerful elbow sup- at this moment which ported him on the rail illustrates. A man, a as he tilted forward; his patient of mine, ap- brows were dissenting; peared to change his he took up the thread entire moral nature in quickly as the other's the course of a few voice dropped. The years. He married a Calvinistic tradition woman who was high- and training that ruled bred and gentle – no his kindly personality, one ever doubted her like a backbone of iron loveliness of character. in a human-frame, And he seemed at first might not bend at once to be a good fellow and to the older man's broad devoted to her. With- doctrine. The white out apparent reason of heat of a close knowl- any sort the man de- edge of suffering is veloped into a fiend of needed, perhaps, to refined cruelty. It is melt such iron to flesh no use telling you what and bone. he did, but no devil “You're taking away from hell could have all moral responsi- been more ingenious bility,” he answered, and more merciless, and and the sweeping dis- it was his wife around approval in his look and whom centered his dia- tone carried the weight bolical brilliancy. of his friendly, large There was such shad- being. “You're elimi- ing, such subtlety—so nating right and wrong skilfully did he play up and faith and repent- and down the scale of ance. You're reducing the woman's conscience life to a race run by A STRONG SWIMMER, SURE OF HIS STRENGTH. and heart and breeding puppets, pulled by un- to make her suffer the seen strings, who, however they run, must all keenest anguish, that you couldn't help ad- receive the prize." miring the working of his brain, while your "I think”—the doctor spoke slowly—“I'm instincts made it difficult to keep your hands only appreciating the fact that we are not off him. This was no secret; he humiliated puppets who might all be carved alike; I'm her publicly and privately, though always, I only enunciating the theory that the starter believe, with a poised discretion—there never makes the handicaps balance for the race. was a scene there never was even an awk- You're an athlete, to look at you: isn't that ward moment. He slipped from a knife- The Forgiveness of Sins thrust that turned her white to a good story so pect, and before he reached the end of the easily told that you followed him fascinated. long quay, the spell of the indefinite gaze, He seemed inspired of an evil spirit. Of with its lightning flashes of keenness, had course I, being the family physician, got dissolved in the joy of a new sight of old closer to this than others, and gradually I friends. It was six years since he had seen came to have a theory concerning his physical Malbaie, and he had loved the place for years condition, although he went about his busi- before that. It was easy to forget a passing ness and seemed in fair health. I'm making stranger in the sight of it. Yet once again a long story—you're bored?” the doctor de David Gillespie was to see as if in reality, for manded suddenly, his unexpected luminous a sharp intense moment, that inscrutable, glance flashing on his listener. notable face, black-browed, dreamy-eyed. The young man's shake of the head, the annoyed blink of his interrupted, intent gaze Of a January evening a person who goes answered. The strident voice went on to Malbaie for his summer playtime will fall “The end was this: the man was accidentally to staring at the fire with a misty tenderness, killed. His body was sent home and I asked reminiscent, smiling. Then those who know permission for an autopsy. His father and him enough to guess, have a suspicion that brother allowed it, and I discovered a con- his waking dream is of crisp August days; dition of brain that turned my disgust of of reaches of blue and silver river; of steep him into pity. He was as irresponsible as mountains and quaint habitant cottages and any patient in Bloomingdale. It happened the jingling of a calèche jolting up and down merely that his mania was an extreme hilly roads; in a word, such a midwinter variety of a vice too common to lock up. dream is likely to be of a midsummer Mal- Against my judgment this finding of mine baie picnic. was not told-even his wife never knew it. On a blue and silver day, in such a picnic She had been through much, and the father David Gillespie was engulfed the morning and brother believed this new thought would after his arrival. With his sister he set off merely bring new agitation—she might blame at ten o'clock for a jog of ten miles to the herself for not having found out in time. I Fraser River. Strapped to the wagons were think they were wrong, for it would have tea-baskets and provisions against drought given her husband's memory to her, but it and famine; the carters sat on the mitigated was not my affair. There's Malbaie,” the dashboards that are the box-seats; little doctor announced quietly, dropping the Canadian horses tugged at old harnesses entire conversation behind him as he dropped mended with rope; the sun shone; the water his burned cigar into the river. “You're glistened; all was right with the world. getting off here?” In its hurry to get to the St. Lawrence the The younger man's gaze was still on the little river called the Fraser scooped in past impenetrable face, and he held it there for ages a tunnel through the mountain. Over a moment as if he could not at once follow the gorge of it black cedars hang; down the the sharp tangent. Then he sprang to his sides of it tumble square-jawed rocks; through feet. the bottom of it brawls the yellow clear stream, “Good-by," he said and caught the other's and splashes impetuously against boulders, hand in a big grasp. “This ‘passing in the and whirls into foam-dotted pools in deep night' has been a great pleasure to me. hollows. It is the fiercest, most uncontrolled You've not convinced me, you know I still of little rivers, so full of shadows and so set believe there's a difference between good in sunny woods and sudden chasms, that pic- people and bad people. But you've inter- nics go all of ten miles to watch its spirited ested me so much that I forgot about Malbaie. performances. I shall have to hurry now. Good-by.” David Gillespie, having eaten broiled Ten minutes later, as the doctor lifted his chicken and stuffed eggs with a sincere hap- hat with his slow-coming, swift-vanishing piness, wandered into the path that followed smile, the broad-shouldered, fair giant saluted the bold assertion of the stream. For a time with a wide wave of his own hat from the the way led along a shadowy level, to debouch dock, and swung away wondering why he on a mass of rocks, bold and final. Yet a had not asked the name of this man who had thread of path lay down the descent, and down so impressed him. That the unasked name scrambled Gillespie, his big weight dropping was known to two continents he did not sus- light from foothold to foothold. Half-way of "IT WAS YOU WHO SAVED ME," HE WHISPERED. The Forgiveness of Sins the fall a makeshift bridge sprang across six in the rough shelf on the wall, the writing feet of emptiness, and over this went the ad- table with its large ink-well, its orderly litter venturer-on and on. The spirit of the moun- of recent use—he turned his eyes in surprise tain seemed calling him—and moreover he to the man who bent over him. At once he had a plan. The day was warm, and the saw that he had happened upon something scramble had heated him—when he had left extraordinary, for the face, whose lines worked the picnic well behind, when he should find a this way and that with painful nervousness, pool large enough, he would get rid of his whose blood rushed at Gillespie's look and clothes and plunge, and let the running water ebbed as swiftly, was that of a gentleman, of wrap him with sweet sharpness. a student—and again a dim likeness, a fa- Around a turn he came upon the place. In miliarity stirred Gillespie with a vanishing a white curtain the river fell forty feet; like memory. a curtain, too, its noise, steady, unhurried, “It was you who saved me,” he whispered. shut out the world. Closed on three sides “I was so glad of the chance," the stranger with sunlit rock walls, the pool lay in brown stammered, and his speech was the speech shadow in the hollow, swift, and a hundred of breeding, but Gillespie had trouble not to feet across. Gillespie saw that the current stare again when he saw the muscles of the might well be dangerous, but, a strong swim- mouth twist spasmodically with the effort of mer, sure of his strength, did not think of the few words. The man's features were of hesitation. In five minutes he was playing like uncommon chiseling and in themselves hand- a great fish, diving, floating, treading water. some, intellectual, but this exaggerated nery- Suddenly something happened. There was ousness made him dreadful to see. a sharp pain—he tried to kick out, and the leg In less than half an hour the young clergy- would not go. In alarm he put the force of man, a trifle shaken, but clothed again and fit his body into the other leg, but the cramp for exertion, stood outside the cabin, and, had got it-it was more than he could do to looking about, took in the situation. The take a stroke. Beating the water with his house was of two rooms only and was built hands he shouted—and knew that his voice of logs with the bark left on; it stood so hid- was as nothing against the fall; that it might den in the wood that it could not be seen not by any chance reach his friends up the from anywhere twenty feet away, nor from river. Yet he sent the cry frantically against the water; yet the water almost lapped its the pitiless sound of the stream--he could wide gallery, and standing there one saw all not, would not die in this useless way, he of the shadowy pool. . with his soul and body filled with life and “You have a lovely place for your camp, energy for half a century's work. David Gillespie said in his great, musical, With the torture of the cramp locking every friendly voice; and turned for his host's muscle, he shouted again, and knew that he answer, and stood astonished. was going under, and then as his head sank- There was no one there. The man had did he dream it, or was there an answer? disappeared as suddenly as he had come, As he came up, half conscious, did his eyes see while Gillespie thought him but a few feet the figure of a man bounding down the bank away. “He has probably gone to get wood, where the rocks gave way to woods? Dark- or something of the sort,” the young man ness shut over him. considered, and sat down to wait. Five min- When, half an hour later, the young man rutes he waited, fifteen, twenty; consulting his groped back to consciousness, he looked up watch he knew that he could not delay longer; into a face that did not belong to any one the picnic would be starting home; his sister of the picnic, that he did not know-yet would be alarmed. He stood up and hailed that seemed to him vaguely familiar. The the hills in tones of thunder. stranger was caring for him efficiently, and he “Hello there! Hello, hello!” he shouted. lay quiet for moments, exhausted, without There was no answer. Once more he sent curiosity. Then, as strength flowed back, he out a call, and again—but without response. gazed about in surprise. Then he started up-stream with a puzzled He was lying in a rough log room, yet mind. There was a turn of the path about plainly not the room of a French-Canadian a little bay which brought him back close to farmhouse, which he might have expected. the camp, but above it and across water. Gil- It was barer than any habitant room he had lespie halted here for a moment and looking seen, but the air of it—the handful of books down tried to see the cabin. It was hidden in “LET THE LIGHT COME! O LORD, LET THE LIGHT COME!” The Forgiveness of Sins trees, but he could place the spot, and sud- know about him, but no one has ever got denly, as he looked, there arose to him close enough to talk to him before-at least, thence the sound of a voice. Clear, power- only the habitants, and not many of them. ful, sweet as a trumpet-call it carried above Mark Martel—here he is— " the unflagging roar of the rapids. The sharp face of the French carter smiled “Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow from a near background. Mark Martel liked of death,” came the words, “being fast bound to be considered as knowing everything, and in misery and iron.” And then, slow and he had been listening no farther away than distinct and twice repeated, “Let the light respect demanded. He shook his head come! Let the light come!” wisely. Gillespie was aware of cold creeping over “M'sieur is fortunate to have encountered him as at something unearthly. The voice, the hermit. It is known that there is danger as had the face, caught at a sleeping mem- in that pool-three men have been drowned ory that it could not reach. It seemed to him there in my memory. But yes, M'sieur. It that he had heard this voice before. What is true that I have spoken to the hermit—the sort of an adventure was this that he had mad hermit one calls him. Only a few have lighted upon? He hurried along with his done that, for when one goes to his cabin he whole soul given to the question. That the hides himself—il se cache-in the woods. man was American and of the higher classes He will not encounter persons—yet he is not was evident from his speech; of a scholarly savage--farouche-not he. He is most gen- calling seemed likely from the fact that a tle and of a harmlessness. And if any one is room bare of furnishing should have in it ill on the farms, for miles about, he seems books and writing materials. What struck to know it at once-one says that the spirits him more than all else was the quality of the tell him—and he appears, and cares for that man's voice. That it should carry with such sick person like the doctor-better than the ease above the muffing boom of the rapids doctor, many say. But yes, it is a good luna- was significant not only of power but of train tic. As for me, I hurt my back once carrying ing. The young clergyman's own big mu- baskets down for a picnic party. I was alone, sical tone was a gift of heaven, and he had and I lay and groaned, for it hurt, though made the most of it, knowing how fine a tool I was little injured. And the hermit came it might be in his craft of shaping souls; he suddenly and rubbed me so that the pain had spoken in large places and to large au- went like magic-it may well be that it was diences; and he knew that the effortless purity a sort of magic-it was curious how that of a tone that so lifted words across the noise pain went. When the others came, before of water meant a knowledge of the play of I heard them, he had slipped into the woods. sounds that had become second nature; it Comment, M'sieur-how long? Eh bien, it meant a man used to public speaking. There is something like three years he lives there was more: the personal element of it sent a -yes, quite three or four years.” thrill to his heart fibers; this voice which was In a few days David Gillespie came again, strong and carrying like a general's, was alone, to the headland that looked down to reedy like a child's, appealing like a woman's the hermit's cabin, and stood hidden there in -it was of such a quality, of such a com- the trees and halted to plan his approach. bination of qualities, as set Gillespie un- The heavy roar of the fall, impersonal, in- awares to reviewing the names of the famous evitable, crowded the air; there seemed no speakers of the day. By a subconscious ar- room for other sound. Suddenly_easily, gument it seemed to him that a man might clearly-over the volume of it there came to not own this voice and be unknown. More- David's hearing the tones that had thrilled over the vague familiarity of it haunted him. him before. Every word, now as then, dis- As he climbed up and down the rocky hill- tinct, every accent pure and effortless, the sides, below his thought the words echoed: sentences lifted to him. “Let the light come! Let the light come!” “Clouds and darkness are round about With noisy relief his party greeted him, me—clouds and darkness—clouds and dark- but at his story the clamor quieted. ness,” the voice repeated, and then as before: “I can't imagine who such a man can be “Let the light come! O Lord, let the light -does any one know him?” he demanded, come!” and two or three voices answered: There was no hurry or passion in the cry “Of course--it's the mad hermit. We all the tones were calm with a dreadful calm- 10 Everybody's Magazine ness, as if hope were too far away to stir the pulse of them. Gillespie, heated from his walk, felt a chill as he listened. This voice, coming out of the dense woods, dominating the voice of the river, seemed supernatural. He crashed out of the shadow and swung down headlong around the trail and to the camp. The door stood wide; he went in; there was no one there. Quietly he sat down and waited in the empty place, which yet was alert with recent occupation. There was the same litter of papers on the table by the win- dow; the uncovered inkstand; the pen lying as if just fallen from a hand; a book turned face downward, open. He did not look at the books, the handful of books on the shelf; one may look at every one's books in common life, but to do it here would be stealing the man's secret. In this bare place where were hardly the small necessities, the books must mean their owner's soul. David turned away his eyes, and respected the helplessness of the absent. So he waited, gazing from the door, from the window, at the pool outside, at the high rock wall encircling it. From everywhere in this camp one saw the pool; the building was so placed that one might not step outside, one might not look through door nor window with out seeing that constant picture of dark water. David waited. An hour went past, and he sat patiently, for he had come with fixed purpose, but at the end of the second hour he began to believe it hopeless, and another thought came to him. He went across to the table and sat down to write a note to his in- visible host, pushing away, with an effort not to see the words on them, the papers scat- tered to right and left. But he could not help being aware of a clear, square writing, finished, individual; and suddenly, against his will he caught the words large at the top of a page-a big page such as he himself used for his sermons: “They grope in the dark without light. XII Chapter Job, 25th verse." His hand dropped. The pencil fell from it to the floor. He knew with a certainty not founded on logic that this was a sermon, and that this madman was of his own profession. If it had come to him that here was a brother of his flesh and blood, his heart could not have leaped with a hotter shock of longing to help him. Then, as if by right of a brother, he lifted his eyes to the pathetic little library and reading the titles, knew that he was right. The madman, the furtive outcast of mankind, living a shadowy under-life in this wild place, was a scholar who read Greek and Latin and Hebrew, was a servant of the church even as himself. He turned from the rough shelves weighted with so extraordinary, so plain a story, and standing by the window, his hands deep in his pockets, the big fellow, with his heart stirred to its depths, stared out at the omnipresent dark pool. What shipwreck could have come to this bark built to carry good tidings, what shipwreck utter, final, to have so battered and overturned it and torn away its white sails, and left it floating, a helmless derelict, in strange seas? He might not conjecture-he put the question from him. What he could do to right the battered hull, to help it move once more on its course, this was a nearer question he must answer this. As if breathed into his mind, inspired, words came to him that he must say now, at this moment. He strode across the floor and stood outside on the gallery, and facing the silent woods he threw his great voice toward them. “The Lord has sent help out of Zion," he announced loud and clear. “The Lord has sent help out of His sanctuary." There was a moment of hush, as it seemed to Gillespie, and then, without sound, on the edge of the wood the man stood. The two gazed at each other for a long moment of time, and David, moving slowly over the rocks and through the underbrush, was close to him, held his hand. When he lay in his bed at the cottage on the Malbaie bluff that night, the young clergy- man wondered what had happened next. He never remembered. His every faculty was so absorbed in the delicate task of keeping the strange confidence so hardly won that his memory forgot to write down the record. The next thing that he could think of, going back over the day's events, was a quiet half-hour in the cabin, rational and friendly. The man said little enough, but it was said in a manner of charming gentleness, with an evident, frightened joy to be in speech with Gillespie which went to the visitor's heart. There was tragedy here, no doubt, but that it came from misfortune, not from wrong-doing, seemed certain. Gillespie kept the talk at an every- day level, doing most of it himself. He spoke of the woods, of the little animals living in them; of the birds of Canada that he had studied; he referred to a book of those on the shelf, and offered to bring another of the same sort; but at this suggestion of a second visit The Forgiveness of Sins the man stirred restlessly and his brilliant pure line of thought that went unhampered dark eyes fixed themselves on his guest's face and swift from premise to conclusion as if with a question, a terror. He could not bear on wings which rose above the clouds that the pressure of human touch, even from obscure most men's logic. What a mind, the large, gentle nature that had made him the clergyman reflected-his profession ever for a moment forget himself. David rose first in his thoughts—what a mind in a pul- quietly and stood holding the thin, twitching pit! what a force lost for good! And against hand. his will the question pressed upward in his “Good-by," he said. “I am coming to see consciousness more than once-who could you again. I am coming Thursday morn- this madman be? One day David was tell- ing." ing a story about himself in the course of The man's face worked as he looked up which he used his own name. He stopped, into the calmness of David's, but he did not considering that his hearer did not know it draw away his hand nor say a word, and so as his. Gillespie left him, heavy-hearted to leave him, "My name is Gillespie, David Gillespie,” standing in the cabin. he explained. To Gillespie his vacation was now inspired The dark, sad eyes looked quietly at him. by an object, and every few days found “Yes," he answered. “I think you know him in the lonely home of the strange being mine, for you mentioned it the other day. who had saved him from death. Little by I am Hector Hampton." little, with many retrogressions, with delicate For all the watch that he kept over himself care, he built up a friendship between them, David caught his breath. Of course! How a friendship with such reserves that in three had he missed it? Hector Hampton! The weeks he did not know, did not dream of wonderful young priest, the orator, writer, asking his friend's name. That the man a meteor that had swung in a glowing path was ill and needed him physically as well as across the sky to be suddenly quenched. mentally was a strong tie. David dared once This explained all, even the vague note of to suggest bringing a physician, but the idea familiarity, for David remembered well when was met by an attack of nervous trembling, he had heard Hampton preach. He had and at a second attempt the hermit without traveled three hundred miles to hear him; he a word vanished into the forest, not to reap- recalled the crowded church, the intent mul- pear that day. The young man learned that titude, the white-robed, slender figure and he must make shift to heal body as well as inspired young face that dominated the scene. soul. That the one as the other was beyond The voice with its flexibility, its character as his skill he feared more than once, yet he of all human natures, child, man, woman; its had at times the joy of seeing steadiness of close touch on the stuff of a heart; its extraor- speech and of thought for perhaps an hour; dinary, unexpected intonations, as if it rang control of the twitching muscles giving back from a soul lightly tied to the things of earth- strength and poise to the spiritual and Gillespie had thought he could not forget beautiful face. The conviction grew on him that voice. Hector Hampton! Five years that this personality, gifted, full of charm before he had suddenly resigned his parish- even in its ruin, must have held a no- given up his work; the papers said he was table place in the world before the blow traveling for his health. David had heard came that shattered the machine and left nothing of him since; persons whom he had only bits, brilliant and finished, yet working asked had known nothing. There was hard- no more together. There was about him, ly any one in the United States who had not with all his shrinking annihilation of self, an been familiar with his name, and yet he had unconscious air of one used to having his sunk into the sea of past things with only a words weigh, and the deepest note of tragedy ripple to mark his going. Hector Hampton! to the man of thought and study was the “I heard you preach once,” Gillespie said, evident fact that unreason had here over- and hesitated, and added, “I have always turned a mind of the clearest reason. The been glad that I heard you, and I have never pleasure of discussion of the abstract ques- forgotten it. You must have done more good tions that formed the larger part of their in a few years than most men in a lifetime." talk was so keen to the hermit that often The painful flush, the twisting muscles Gillespie feared its effect on his slight strength; warned him. He rose swiftly, his manner often he stood astonished at the straight, changing to an every-day tone. 12 Everybody's Magazine “I wish you would remember to take the happened to me-I preached to others, and I medicine,” he went on. “I take pride in my myself am a castaway. It was an awfully new practise, and it is unfair of you not to sudden flood, Gillespie. I saw red and my help me. Try to remember.” hands went out—that was all. I didn't know Two days later he came again, of an after- I'd killed the man for five minutes after." noon, and Hampton's face so lit up at the As if under a weight of cold iron David's sight of him that he felt a glow of joy. No heart sank. Hector Hampton a murderer! one could know this man, broken, more than He drew a gasp of relief as the thought flashed half mad, without loving him, and that he upon him that this was part of the madness seemed better to-day meant happiness to -hallucination. Gillespie. The unbalanced mind was in a “Hampton,” he said, and tried to speak clearer, more rational state than at any time convincingly, “this isn't true. You've before. Hampton spoke calmly of his for- wrought yourself up over some painful mem- mer work, of its scope and aim, and, in easy ory until you've come to accept as fact a sequence, of its abrupt ending. Suddenly, thing that is only a nightmare. Tell it all to with a quiet sentence, he made David's heart me--it will relieve the pressure—but try to stand still. believe me that it is merely a bad dream." “I want to tell you what happened,” he And he knew as he spoke that his words were said. “No one has ever known, but I should inadequate. like you to know.” The eyes of the hermit flamed. “Don't “Are you sure you want to tell me to-day?” make me argue that,” he pleaded. And then, his friend asked gently. “Won't it upset you “But there's no need. You'll understand in to talk about it? I am coming again and a minute. The thing happened. I killed a again, I will gladly listen at any time.” man. And I know that I could not have But the other smiled his radiant, trans- done it had not the evil in me been stronger parent smile. “No.” He shook his head than the good. That is clear reason-you with decision. “I should like to tell you to see it? That moment was the test-it was day if you don't mind listening to a painful the duel, the death-grapple between the story. I am not going to live long and I want holiness I had selfishly labored for and the you to talk to me. It may help me to cross wickedness that was in me. The right went the water when the time comes.” down. It is not in me to do the right against He paused, and David laid his great hand an instant's temptation—that is proved. on the wasted shoulder. Never in the four Therefore, as I am weighed and found want- weeks of their friendship had Hampton ing, I am lost beyond saving. That I know.” seemed more composed, more as he must have David stumbled over rushing words of been in former days; the pitiful working of protest, and the other stopped him. the muscles of his face had stopped; his dark, “Don't argue that-I know. I know that. melancholy eyes were sane; his hands lay If you should argue till doomsday it wouldn't quiet. It startled Gillespie the more to hear, affect me. You'll call it insanity, probably, when it came, the vehemence of his low a phase of mental disease. Whatever it is, speech. it's so. But it isn't that which has made me “We talk of elemental passions, we civil- a madman. Did you think I didn't know I ized people," he began, plunging at random was mad?” he asked, and his face and his into the heart of his narrative, “and we think smile were like the smile and the face of a we speak intelligently, but I tell you there is sorrowful child, and an icy shaft struck to not a man dreams what it means except the David's soul. Hampton went on. “I didn't man who has been for a moment a brute even know I'd killed him at first." He beast. A brute beast, with one blind, savage stopped and seemed to pull up his plurging instinct that has got him in its grip. Heaven thoughts. “I must talk more coherently or help you if that thing, an elemental passion, you won't understand. To-day is my chance catches you off your guard, for it's only -I can do it to-day-my brain is clear. heaven then that can. Not civilization nor Mostly, you know, it is that lack which is un- tradition is going to help you. If you're to be bearable—the lack of light-I can't think- saved, it's by the grace of God and the soul my mind seems in thick darkness. But just that you are. It's the final test of how much now there's unusual light. I can see, and I heaven is in you. I didn't stand the test. can tell you, I believe, plainly." What St. Paul warned our profession against He lifted a hand and pushed back the hair The Forgiveness of Sins 15 that had grown long over his forehead, as if suddenly the world reeled. I 'the rapids to give the struggling brain room; then he men mean when they say they see biur. clasped his fingers tightly together-to hold There were scarlet lightnings before my eyes the nerves firm, David thought. -but I saw him-I saw only that man. It "The man was my sister's husband-my was 'as I told you just now. A primeval twin sister. She and I had been close to passion swept me and my will like atoms gether all our lives, and I felt her joy and on a tidal wave, and the sea wall in me of sorrow as keenly, I think almost as quickly, good and heaven was too flimsy a thing to as my own. The man was "-he shuddered resist it. I did what it made me do. I caught uncontrollably-"was a fiend to her, to my him as he swam near me, and pushed him sister. Not at first, but by slow degrees, till down and held him under water till his body at last her life was a long agony, and I suf- became limp. Then I dragged him ashore, fered with her, helplessly. We were at Mal- and then, only then, I knew that I had killed baie together that summer, five years ago, and him. For an hour I could not believe it, finally I couldn't bear it. I made up my and I worked, trying to revive him. But he mind that I must have it out with him, and I was dead-I had killed him. I dressed him asked him to come for a day's fishing here, on in his clothes and took him back to Malbaie, the Fraser, with me alone. I meant to talk and there was no need of a word of explana- to him, to use all the force that was in me, and tion. No one ever suspected me. That he I hoped I should be given a power beyond was drowned while swimming in a place what I had ever had. I had helped men out known to be dangerous was enough. 'Ac- of evil as fixed as his-I hoped that this time, cidentally killed while swimming with his when I cared most, the power might be in me. brother-in-law'—that was what the papers So we came here. On the bank, where this said. Even my sister never dreamed the cabin stands, we sat and talked, and he truth. I could not, of course, go back to my jeered at me for my helplessness and cursed work-I, a criminal-so I traveled for a me for my interference. I am not a stolid year, not knowing what I could do, trying man by nature- to find how I could go on living. Then the David's big hand went without his volition thought came to me that this was the ex- over the locked fingers. piation, to bring my wrecked soul and body “—and I felt his insults to the reach of and stay always here, seeing that water by every nerve. But I pulled myself together, day, hearing it by night. If I could have and changed the subject. I thought that given myself up to justice it would have made later, perhaps, I might have more success- me almost happy, but I could not bring shame I might be inspired to say what would touch on the church. Perhaps I was wrong to him. He might see that I was patient, and think so, perhaps it was part of the darkness take some account of that, and listen more that thickened on me, but that way seemed kindly. I suggested that we should go into closed. So I have made my own punishment the pool for a swim before lunch. I knew it has been harder than electrocution, it to be dangerous water, but I was an ex- Gillespie.” He turned wistful, tragic eyes pert swimmer-better and stronger than he on his hearer. --and I had no fear for either of us. We A s the man told his story it recalled an un- went in, he singing a vaudeville song that set formed memory to David's mind. He could my nerves on edge, that he meant to set my not place the association, but the thought nerves on edge-1, still shivering from his seized him strongly and held through the last speech. He dived, and as he came up horror of the tale-yet the horror was first close to me the words he said- ” and most. The fingers under David's suddenly threw Staring at him, dazed, he tried to believe off his clasp and flung themselves aloft. that what he had been told was not true; “The words he said," Hampton cried that it was part of the man's insanity. But and gave a gasping groan. Then, with in- there had been truth and fact in every accent stantaneous reaction, “I must not lose my of the story-it was one that must be be- head,” he whispered, catching his breath. lieved. And at length he gave up—this was “I must tell it all to you. I cannot repeat not the way out. He laid his hand again on those words, and it is not necessary. They the bent shoulder. were an insult to his wife, to my sister, too “Hampton,” he said, "you mustn't de- horrible to be thought. When I heard them, spair. This life may be wrecked, as you say, 12 Everybody's Magazine “I wisłe is only a bit of a long eternity. I do but think all the time of that man mak- ma while there's faith and repentance pos- ing his own hell, through the ages—that sick sible, the happiness of eternity is possible. soul that I should have cured, that I killed.” If I, knowing this, can yet forgive you and The shattered nerves had lost their hold love you, don't you know that God can do now; the muscles of his face worked fright- so infinitely more easily? You mustn't de- fully; the eyes closed and opened with un- spair-your soul may yet be saved alive.” meaning rapidity; the lucid interval was end- Then Gillespie had a shock. The dark eyes ing. David, astonished at the man's attitude met his with a smile. “My soul?” Hampton toward his own fate, yet felt humility before repeated in surprise. “I'm not worrying the high unselfishness that could put aside about my soul, Gillespie. That's lost for his everlasting future in an all-absorbing ever-I have reasoned it out over and over- anxiety for that of another. And suddenly as over and over-long, long nights,” he whis- he searched in his mind for help, in the dark pered, his eyes glowing with a retrospective places of memory he came upon the asso- pain. “God will forgive me I know myciation that had baffled him. The story of Master. But the power isn't in me to be the unknown doctor on the boat-it was the forgiven. That moment showed I was sinful story of Hampton. The two sides fitted to- at the core-I could never trust now any gether without a jar. In his own mind he longing for goodness that I might seem to was certain, from the moment that the mem- have-any sorrow for my crime. I can bear ory recurred to him, of the identity of the my punishment, Gillespie; I always could cases. The bearing of the doctor's evidence bear my own punishments, even as a child. on Hampton's tragedy flashed clearly before But even then it was a possession with me to him—the murdered man had been insane-the go wild at seeing another child punished; it autopsy had proved it. He was irresponsible- wasn't unselfishness, it was a temperamental the doctor had used the words “as irresponsi- peculiarity. I think it was that feeling which ble as any patient in Bloomingdale”—and led me into the ministry-I was driven by an the statement carried authority. This would intense desire to save souls from the con- be medicine indeed. Gillespie turned to the sequences of their sins--all the souls I could. hermit impulsively, joyfully, and stopped with I could not bear to let one go. It grew to be a the words on his lips. Could he prove his manner of madness with me,I was unbal- certainty? Could he risk a mistake? Was anced at my best, I'm afraid," and he smiled Hampton in condition to be questioned, on again with an appeal in his eyes, as they the chance that two stories were identical lifted to his friend. “I know-I've preached whose identity would seem a miracle? The it—what you say—that God will forgive us thought stopped him. He must think it out; till we lose the power of repentance. I've he must reason out as far as he might its lost it. I seem to have no feeling about my effect on his friend; not for anything in the future-I've been in eternal misery five years, 'world would he add to his suffering, nor raise a you see. I'm in it now-I can bear it. But hope to be disappointed. With that, clutch- the unbearable thought is that he is lost-the ing desperately after a thought of comfort, he man I killed. O God! O God! the darkness found himself saying words that seemed to and the suffering!” he wailed, sending his come from beyond himself, the very words voice out like the peal of a mournful bell. over which he had taken issue with the strange Then he caught himself sternly. “I will doctor. Without conscious volition they flew not let my brain go. I must talk to you, and to him out of dimness like birds from the sky. know what you say. But don't you see, “You speak the word of hope yourself, Gillespie, my salvation isn't the point. It's Hampton," he began. “A sick soul,' you that lost soul that drags me down. It was say. There lies the chance for him. Isn't it my affair to save souls—for that I was trained possible that the man was as helpless to live ---for that I worked and hoped-it was my right as a cripple is helpless to walk straight? high business-the highest a man can assume. Isn't moral disease often as blameless, as And I sent a being black with sin straight to much to be pitied, as little to be condemned damnation. The man was steeped in vice, as physical? Can't we believe that an steeped in selfishness and cruelty worse than infinite intelligence—the good Lord-know- vice-he went with that rotten soul from mying the causes and excuses that we miss, may hand to judgment. How is there a chance for find few cases beyond pardon?” him? If I were in highest heaven what could Saying such words, he wondered. Did The Forgiveness of Sins 15 he believe these ideas that he was offering O Lord, let the light come!” And the rapids earnestly to a desperate need? As he con- thundered a passionless amen. sidered, his heart sank, for his conscience At times also he came back to the story he questioned him. But when he saw Hamp- had told, and wandered pathetically in the ton's face he could not but be glad that from mire. But it was always that other lost soul, an unknown heaven the winged message had never his own, for which he sorrowed. Part descended upon him. The quivering fingers of his madness it must have been, yet it was stiffened to stillness, the eyes fixed their gaze, a heavenly distortion of reason by which a intent, inquiring, on David's. man forgot his own eternity in another's. "I have never had that thought,” he said "I sent a soul to hell-a lost soul-a lost slowly. “Do you mean that it is possible soul. It is dark. I can see but a lost soul that the man was so warped-mentally, that sits in darkness and in the shadow of morally—perhaps by physical causes, that death-in the shadow of death." he wasn't responsible? That his sin was in And David, agonized, did not know if he that case not sin, but in a manner insanity? might tell him what he believed, did not dare That, being so, he was not wicked but only hold the cup of healing to his parched lips pitiful, not to be judged but to be forgiven, for fear that the draught within might prove not condemned but— ". to be not healing, but poison. Yet he kept He stopped, gasping. Slowly there was the thought that had brought comfort in- dawning on his face a radiance such as David sistent before the sufferer's mind. had not seen on a man's face before. “Listen, dear Hampton," and he took the “The light, the light!” he whispered, and jerking hands in his strong hold. “Listen! then, throwing the pure, great tones of his He may be forgiven-he may be happy. voice from him he filled the small room, Try to think that.” That other question of filled the gorge of the rushing river with hope, Hampton's own eternity, so great to his own with jubilation. “Let the light come! O mind, he did not even touch upon to this Lord, let the light come!” tortured unselfishness. His head fell back; the luminous eyes “You mean he may have been irrespon- closed. David, leaning over him in anxiety, sible?” The invalid harked back to the idea saw that the strain had been great, and that as eagerly as if it were the first time. he was indeed very ill. There was desperate “Surely, surely I mean it! Souls cannot need of a doctor here, but there was no time be equally responsible any more than bodies now to get one. Tenderly he put Hampton can be equally strong. The great starter into his cot bed, and the afternoon wore on makes the handicaps balance." The words and it came to be evening as he cared for him. astonished him as he spoke them. They were He saw that he could not leave him that not his-his whole belief had been otherwise. night, and as it grew late he lighted candles But he went on: “He may have been as blame- about the darkening room, and marshaledless as you or I. Try to remember that.” the bare resources of the place as efficiently “Bless you, Gillespie. Thank you for as he could for a night of anxious care. saying it over and over. Thank you for be- The long hours were crowded with such ing so patient. He may be blameless," he incidents as a man might not forget--no whispered to himself as if to fix the thought. moment of that night ever grew dim in Gil And David had ceased to ask himself lespie's memory. At times the dying man sternly, “Do I believe this?” He only asked put out his hand and held David's coat anxiously, “Can I make him believe it?" sleeve as if he clung to his only anchor; at About midnight, after a troubled, short times he smiled radiantly at him and blessed sleep, the dark eyes opened wide and stared him for his friendship—more than all for the at David, brilliant, questioning. “Clouds thought that had brought hope, going back and darkness are over me," he whispered, to it over and over; but at times the blackness and his friend bent and said clearly: again held him, and the wonderful voice, “The light is coming, Hampton-surely calm, hopeless, as Gillespie had first known it is coming.” it, rang from the little cabin into the night. With the flash of a smile the thin hand "Clouds and darkness! Clouds and dark- slipped to David's face. “Let the light ness are round about me,” he announced come," and again, with a last breath of the over and over as if from the pulpit, to David voice that had swayed multitudes, “O Lord, and the still 'hills. “Let the light come! let the light come.” The hand fell. 16 Everybody's Magazine And David stood, and with arms lifted said the near-by bushes white and ghostly. With a prayer for the soul so close, so far, and a that, to his overstrung imagination rose a prayer for his own soul. Had he lied to this picture of himself as he must look standing in pitiful dead-did he believe what he had told the doorway of this solitary cabin, facing him, what the other had clung to as he went dark mountains, with his momentary torch of under the dark waters; did he believe it? As birch bark tossing over him—what was life if another's voice spoke through his lips he itself but a lonely flame of a moment—what said aloud: did it matter to him if he had light or not to "I believe in a forgiveness of sins and a life guard the broken lamp of life that had gone everlasting broader than we dream. I believe out? He threw down the bark and stamped that more than the saints get to heaven.” it out. All at once he knew he did not care. His nerves were keyed to their highest note He was too tired to make another effort for and it was as if in reality that there arose any reason. before him, for a tense, sharp moment, a There was no chair in the bare little room vivid picture of a face, dark-browed, strong, where Hampton lay, and David went into the introspective of gaze, keen of glance-the farther room, setting the door wide between, face of the unknown doctor on the boat, but closing carefully the outside door to the whose words had been on his lips through the gallery. There must be no chance that any drama of the evening, whose words, as he wild thing of the forest might enter here. He remembered them, he believed. He had dropped, worn out, into a seat; his arms lived through experience to conviction; theory stretched over the table, he laid his head on and logic were as winds powerless to shake them and fell deeply asleep. foundations that had been sunk into the deep He never knew how long he lay there, but, reality of his being. Then and after he waking suddenly, as if a hand had been pressed believed that no human being may judge on him, he was aware of a current of cold air, another, that God alone knows the secret and he lifted his head, startled, and looked springs, and, knowing, forgives. up. The dying candles had gone out, the When he had done the little that might place was dark, but there in the open outer be done that night, he wandered about the door, facing him, stood Hampton, one hand small place for a few minutes in a great rest- lifted high holding a bright light, and on his lessness and loneliness. He went out on the face such a glory as David had not known how gallery and gazed at the serene stars question to dream. For a long moment the two looked ingly as though to find if the freed soul had at each other, and then the man who was of risen to their distance and their calmness. the earth stirred, and the vision was gone. That the one black moment of a white life Shivering with cold he got up and made his was forgiven, he trusted, yet he felt such an way, stumbling, to the spot where his friend urgent need to know how it was with his friend had stood. The door indeed was open, the that he went back and took a listless hand in door that he had himself latched firmly, and both his and bent over, asking. The worn gazing out he saw that over the mountains face was at rest, but an unspeakable sadness was creeping a gray brightness of dawn. At lay on it, and he turned away heartsick. “If his feet gleamed the curl of birch bark that you would come back for only one minute to he had left. For moments he stood motion- tell me,” he cried, as others have cried through less, watching the day rise steadily behind the all centuries. It seemed unendurable that he giant outlines of the hills. Then with a peace might not know what lay beyond that shadow beyond understanding in his heart, he turned, into whose depths he had gone down, where and stepping softly, as if not to waken a quiet his friend had slipped from him. That the sleeper, he went to Hampton. The pale pure light so longed for was there he hoped, but he morning came in now at the window and wanted passionately to know. flooded the place with a dim radiance, and by The candles had burned low, and he that brightness he saw his friend's wasted wandered vaguely about trying to find others, face glorified. The tragedy of sadness had but he could not see where they were in the faded and in its place lay that which those dark. A roll of birch bark gleamed from a who have seen it may not forget, the bene- rough seat by the open door-he tore a curl diction of the smile of the dead. from the end of it, dripping silver slivers, David knelt softly by the bed with a put a match to it and held it above him, and thanksgiving, for Hampton had answered his the light flared over the gallery and turned question. The light had come. The Cheat of Overcapitalization By WILL PAYNE II EDITOR'S NOTE.--Who gives to individuals the right to dispose of posterity ? When the Billion Dollar Steel Trust took over Andrew Carnegie's Steel Company, worth eighty mil- lions, and issued upon it 500 millions of stocks and bonds, what were these securities but solemn pledges that as long as law and order shall endure, so long shall thousands and thousands of human beings toil so many hours a day, so many days a week, until death or incapacity releases them, and that the product of this toil shall be the property of these holders of pieces of paper? When the Moore Brothers and their associates sold to the public 189 millions of similar pieces of paper upon seventy millions of Rock Island stock, it meant that the farmers and merchants through all the Rock Island territory must continue for years to come to yield tribute in the shape of extortionate freight and passenger tolls to the holders of these pieces of paper. By the mere fiat of some great financier, the product of unborn thousands is pledged to the descendants and beneficiaries of the present holders of those bits of paper. Aladdin's lamp could do no more. M R. A. B. STICKNEY, president of the summer resort because it is much less dis- | Chicago Great Western, recently dis- agreeable than Panama. cussed railway rates before the Transporta- I think every kindly person is sad when he tion Club of St. Paul. Taking the complete hears railroad men allege that their business statistics for 1905, he found that the average is upon a competitive basis. The falsehood rate of interest paid on all the railroad bonds is so palpable. Until recently there was some in the United States was 3.65 per cent., and competition that is, one road might offer a the average rate of dividends paid on all the big shipper a larger illegal rebate than an- railroad stock was 3.02 per cent. other had offered. As to the small, local “Here," said Mr. Stickney, “is the average shipper, the business was always a monopoly. margin of profit of all the railways in the It is now a monopoly to everybody. Being United States. . . . There is no other busi- a monopoly it is entitled to earn only a fair ness in the country which is done on so small return upon the investment. How anybody a margin of profits as 3.02 per cent. dividend. can determine whether rates are reasonable No other invested capital gets such small re without knowing what the investment is, turns as the capital invested in railroads." is beyond merely mundane comprehension. Obviously, if the capital invested in rail. Yet nobody does know what the investment roads can now earn only a little over three per is. Railroad men do not wish to know and cent, a year, railroad rates are as low as they do not wish anybody else to know. Only they ought to be. When anybody men- by an elaborate and costly federal investiga- tions freight rates, the railroads always trottion can the amount of bogus capitalization out these average dividend statistics—and that the railroads are carrying be discov- prove thereby that rates are already so low ered. But one fact is rather significant. that there's no profit at all in railroading. That is, there are not many spots in the vast If anybody asks how much of the stock mass of capitalization where you can sink a upon which average dividends of 3.02 per drill without striking water. cent. are paid is water and therefore entitled Take, for instance, that conspicuous group to no dividend whatever, they reply that there of railroads known as the “hard coalers.” can't be any water because the capitalization The anthracite industry naturally invited per mile of American railroads is much less monopolistic ambition. The supply is con- than that of English railroads—which is fined to a region in Pennsylvania all of which exactly like arguing that Florida is an ideal could be put within an area twenty-two miles 18 Everybody's Magazine square. This region, roughly speaking, is the powerful friendship of Mr. Morgan. only a hundred miles from Philadelphia and Thanks largely to him, a spirit of amity began a hundred and fifty from New York. Trans- to pervade the hard-coal roads; but this portation, of course, is the key. better understanding among the carriers did Eight railroads tap the territory-namely, not increase the happiness of the “inde- the Reading, Erie, Pennsylvania, Lehigh Val pendent” operators who depended upon them ley, Delaware & Hudson, Delaware, Lacka- for transportation. Certain of these oper- wanna & Western, New York, Ontario & ators projected an independent railroad to Western, and the Central of New Jersey. tidewater. But the project failed. There were, early, various fragile pools and Still the independents were dissatisfied gentlemen's agreements; but the first really with freight rates. Presently, led by the important step toward monopoly was made Pennsylvania Coal Company, they projected in 1871 by F. B. Gowen, then president of another road, to be built along the old Dela- Reading. He began buying all the inde- ware and Hudson Canal. The Pennsylvania pendent coal lands he could get hold of. Coal Company was a comparatively small He seems to have had the right idea— concern. Its output amounted to only five namely, that it doesn't make any particular per cent. of the total. It had $5,000,000 difference what price you pay for property pro- capital stock—a good deal of it scattered in vided it enables you to get a monopoly of a rather small holdings. Morgan & Co. quietly staple commodity. Having a monopoly, you gathered in the majority of the stock. can easily make consumers pay dividends on Now just what Morgan & Co. paid for the purchase price. He bought about a hun- that $5,000,000 of Pennsylvania Coal Com- dred thousand acres of undeveloped coal lands, pany stock has never been disclosed; but the therefore, or a third of the amount in sight. house turned the stock over to the Erie Rail- In so doing he loaded up Reading with an road, which issued therefor $32,000,000 of increased debt to the amount of $50,000,000. four-per-cent. bonds and $5,000,000 of four- Hereafter there existed 50,000,000 additional per-cent. preferred stock. It was supposed motives for monopolizing hard coal. that this $5,000,000 of preferred stock repre- The result was a pool in 1873, among the sented the bankers' commissions, or bonus; hard coalers, limiting output and fixing prices. but that is neither here nor there. The Penn- This continued, with many vicissitudes, until sylvania Coal Company was the key to a mo- 1884, when the Pennsylvania broke away. nopoly of hard coal. The monopoly has been The price of coal fell, and Reading, with its in perfect working order ever since. Interest load of debt representing undeveloped coal and dividends on the securities issued by the lands, went into the hands of receivers. Erie road in payment for Pennsylvania Coal When an individual goes into bankruptcy Company stock amount to sixty cents on the water is squeezed out of him. When a each ton of that company's output. But what railroad goes into bankruptcy not only is the of that? They might as well have amounted water not squeezed out, but more is put in to $1.60. Consumers of monopolized hard The process is called “reorganization.” coal would have had to pay it. Every important railroad reorganization in- volves an inflation of capital. THE WATER-LOGGED ERIE Reading was reorganized and set going again. A. A. McLeod came into control, and Reading had been staggering for years promptly took up the plan to monopolize under a debt created to buy undeveloped coal hard coal. Some brilliant financiering fol- lands in the hope of a monopoly. As soon lowed. Unfortunately the courts upset some as this Morgan deal made monopoly effective, of the McLeod leases. The whole structure Reading figured that on the basis of the price fell. The fall touched off the panic of 1893. paid for the Pennsylvania Coal Company's Once more Reading went into the hands of lands, its own coal lands were worth $125,- receivers and was reorganized. Of course 000,000—so it wasn't overcapitalized at all! none of the water was let out. On the con Erie's previous experiences in the stock- trary, true to the basic principle of reorgani watering line had been extensive and pictur- zation, more was put in. This time the esque. From 1868 to 1872, in the able hands capitalization was lifted above $300,000,000, of Daniel Drew, Jay Gould, and James Fisk, or about $316,000 per mile of road. its share capital was increased from $17,000,- This reorganization, however, brought in 000 to $78,000,000. Nearly all of this in- The Cheat of Overcapitalization 19 crease was mere fiat, put out for speculative Hartford has bought $29,000,000, or one- purposes and with scarcely a pretense that any half, of the common stock of the New York, actual value lay behind the issue. Reams of Ontario & Western, thereby putting it also stock were printed and put out by night for in the way of becoming a form of capitaliza- the pious purpose of breaking Commodore tion bearing fixed charges—for these pur- Vanderbilt's corner in the shares. chases by one road of the stock of another In 1895 the road, being bankrupt, under- are generally financed in the end by an issue went a typical reorganization, conducted by of bonds. Mr. Morgan. There were outstanding, for example, $33,597,000 second-mortgage bonds. THE LOOT IN UNION PACIFIC In the reorganization these bonds received seventy-five per cent. of their face value in new How could all this watered stock be so four per cent. bonds, and fifty-five per cent. in handsomely supported and become so agree- new four per cent. preferred stock, or 130 per ably valuable unless the railroads were charg- cent. in all. The old $77,837,000 bogus com- ing the public for coal and for transportation mon stock was converted into a like amount of much more than enough to yield a reasonable new common stock. There was issued $63,- return upon the actual investment? 000,000 of first and second preferred stock, a It is true, as Mr. Stickney says, that the large part of which was distributed as sweet- average investor in railroad securities gets eners and bonuses to reconcile the old security only a moderate return. The railroad monop- holders. olizes the commodity and charges more for MR. MORGAN'S GAME it than it is fairly worth; it issues four per cent. stocks and bonds to the full amount This preferred stock entailed no fixed that the monopolistic earning power will sup- charge upon the road. Dividends were to port, and sells them to the public; then it be paid on it only if earned. So Mr. Mor- argues that the charges cannot possibly be gan was liberal in handing it out. The prin- too high because the investor is getting only ciple upon which he proceeded was thus ex- 3.65 or 3.02 per cent. plained by an admirer: “In reorganizing a After the Credit Mobilier scandal, Con- road Mr. Morgan takes care to cut down gress investigated the Union Pacific and fixed charges to an amount within the mini- found that mum earning power. After that is accom- plished everybody can pretty much help It had cost the contractors a little under himself.” $51,000,000 to build the road. In defending the capitalization of the hard- coal roads in 1901, Mr. McLeod pointed out For this there was issued, that four of them-namely, Reading, Erie, $27,000,000 Government Subsidy Bonds New York, Ontario & Western, and Lehigh $27,000,000 First Mortgage Bonds Valley --- had outstanding $382,554,000 of $18,000,000 Land Grant and Income stock upon which no dividend had ever been Bonds paid and which had a merely nominal value $36,000,000 Common Stock in the market. So, if this was water, who was hurt by it- $108,000,000 no dividends being paid and the stuff being of little value? Why bother about the old- The government and first-mortgage bonds rags heap? But to-day dividends are paid covered the cost of building the line. The upon all of this stock with the exception of other $54,000,000 of securities represented Erie common. Last year the prospect of a profits. Presently Jay Gould took a hand dividend on Erie common seemed so bright in Union Pacific. He controlled the Kansas that the stock sold at above $50 a share, while Pacific and Denver Pacific, which together Reading's watered common sold at $164 a had $25,000,000 of common stock-all water share. The Baltimore & Ohio and the Lake and of little current value. He persuaded Shore roads have jointly bought over sixty the directors of Union Pacific to buy these million dollars of Reading stock, out of a lines and to exchange Union Pacific stock at total of $140,000,000—thereby passing it on par for their bogus shares. toward a form of capitalization with fixed Overloaded Union Pacific went into bank- charges. The New York, New Haven & ruptcy in 1893, and was reorganized. Hold- 20 Everybody's Magazine ers of the old bonds received in most cases par in new four per cent. bonds with a bonus of fifty per cent. in new preferred stock. There was issued $75,000,000 of new preferred stock, practically all of which was given in bonuses to the old security holders and to the reorganization syndicate. The $61,000,000 of old common stock was converted into the same amount of new common. Dividends of ten per cent. a year are now paid on this new common stock. Some part of this is due to Mr. Harriman's brilliant speculations in the stock of other roads. The rest of it is due to a heavy traffic carried at rates higher than would yield a fair return upon the in- vestment. Incidentally, the road received the gift of an empire in public lands. The moiety remaining unsold at the time of the reorgani- zation was valued at $13,358,500. The Northern Pacific fared even better in this regard. The government gave it 40,000,- 000 acres of public lands—a piece of gener. osity which in no wise restrained the stock- watering proclivities of the builders and reorganizers. The old stock, practically all water, was ex- changed for new stock of the same amount. The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fé has been reorganized twice. In the last reor- ganization The Old 75% in New General General Received Mortgage Mortgage 4s 40% in New 4% Bonds Adjustment 45 Thus $129,320,770 was converted into $148,718,983 in New 4%. Old Second) Mortgage Received { 1113% in New "A" Bonds Preferred Stock Second 118% in New Mortgage Received Preferred Stock "B" Bonds 4 NORTHERN PACIFIC'S WATER-CURE The road has been reorganized three times, and is now capitalized at more than $65,000 a mile, excluding the bonds that it issued jointly with the Great Northern to pay for Chicago, Burlington & Quincy stock. Canadian Pacific is capitalized at only $29,- 000 a mile. Northern Pacific's funded debt per mile, excluding the Burlington bonds, is greater than the entire capitalization per mile of the Canadian road. To understand how Northern Pacific's capitalization has been boosted to this figure we need only glance at the last reorganization. There were $42,000,000 of first-mortgage bonds out- standing. In the reorganization { $1,350 in New Each $1,000 Received Prior Lien Bond Bonds ( 1181% of face value in New All Second Prior Lien and Third Received Bonds. Mortgage Bonds 500 face value in Preferred Stock Each $1,000 Bond received $1,685 in New Securities. Of the “A” and “B” bonds there were $87,937,500 outstanding, and they drew four per cent. a year interest. The holders paid in a cash assessment of four per cent., and received $99,869,375 of new preferred stock which draws five per cent. a year in dividends. The old common stock, about all water and of very little value at the time of the reorgani- zation, was exchanged for the same amount- $102,000,000 of new common stock. This new common stock now draws five per cent. a year in dividends, and until the re- cent deplorable slump in stocks it sold above par. They will tell you that it would not be fair to squeeze out the water in a reorganization. For example, a great many small investors had bought Union Pacific, Northern Pacific, and Atchison stocks during boom times. Times turned bad. · The roads could no longer carry the overcapitalization and the profitless branch lines with which financial geniuses had loaded them. Bankruptcy fol- lowed. But the small, innocent investors must not be frozen out. They must be per- mitted to exchange their old stock for new, and so given a chance to recoup when good times come again. Such is the argument. As a matter of fact, it doesn't work that way. The ordinary innocent investor gets frightened when he sees the road approaching insolvency, and dumps his stock on a falling market for what little it will fetch; or he is pinched in his own small business and has to sell; or he can't pay the assessment. In any event, he throws over the stock. The opulent The Cheat of Overcapitalization 21 “ reorganization syndicate” or individual each $1,000 receiving from $1,050 to $1,400, financiers scoop it in. Thus Kuhn-Loeb and according to priority. their reorganizing associates, including Har- The Southern Pacific railroad was origi- riman, emerged from the Union Pacific re- nally a quite modest enterprise. To build organization with great blocks of the stock, the road from which the present flourishing which they had taken in at bottom prices. system grew, cost, according to testimony, Northern Pacific reorganization landed al- less than $7,000,000, while the syndicate that most half the stock in the hands of Morgan, did the building issued to itself $40,000,000 Hill, and their crowd. in various securities. The Southern Pacific, which is a holding company, at present has ALWAYS WALL STREET WINS over nine thousand miles of road. Its funded debt and preferred stock issue amount to After the panic of 1893, about thirty thou $44,000 per mile of road—which, in all hu- sand miles of road underwent reorganiza- man probability, is more than was ever ac- tion. One might mention Baltimore & Ohio, tually invested in constructing and equipping in which old first preferred stock got 52 the lines. In addition, it has $197,849,253 per cent. of face value in new preferred and common stock. On this common stock divi- 75 per cent. in new common; the old second dends are paid at the rate of five per cent. a preferred received 20 per cent. in new pre- year. Last year, after meeting all expenses ferred and 150 per cent. in new common; and charges, the road earned more than and the old common got 20 per cent. in new eight per cent. on this common stock. How preferred and 100 per cent. in new common. could it possibly do that unless it were charg- The general effect of the reorganizations was ing higher rates for transportation than would to inflate further capitalizations that already yield a fair return upon the investment? contained water and to concentrate stock ownership in the hands of Wall Street syndi- STILL THE SAME OLD GAME cates and big operators. Of course, the syn- dicates and the operators have since, in They say that stock-watering in the rail- many cases, sold out the stocks, to their own road field, though practised with regretta- vast profit. If ever hard times come again, ble vigor in the early days, is now a thing of or other conditions arise that made it im- the past. But saying so doesn't make it so. possible for the roads to support the over- The process continues, but, in the main, in capitalization, the same syndicates, with the somewhat subtler forms. The year 1901 was same machinery, will kindly intervene and not an early day. Somebody then bought, put the concerns through reorganization, in- in the market, great quantities of the stock cidentally gathering in the stocks again at of the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy road- bottom prices. at about $125 or $130 a share. Presently The four famous builders of the Central it was announced that, under the auspices Pacific came out of that enterprise with four of Messrs. Hill and Morgan, the Great large fortunes. There is only one way in Northern and Northern Pacific roads would which they could have made these fortunes, jointly buy all the Burlington stock offered that is, by causing the railroad to issue to at $200 a share, payable in four per cent. them securities vastly in excess of the money bonds. Those two roads did buy $107,000,- they put in, and then by charging such rates 000 of Burlington stock, out of a total of for transportation as would make the artifi- $110,000,000, and issued therefor $214,000,- cial securities valuable. The common stock, ooo of four per cent. bonds—which were then certainly, was all water. In 1899, when the sold to investors, who, to be sure, got but a Central Pacific settled its debt to the govern modest return upon their money. Say, for ment by giving three per cent. notes, it was the sake of the argument, that there was no deemed expedient to "readjust” its capital- water whatever in Burlington stock. The ization and its relationship with the Southern capital invested in it would then show as re- Pacific. So holders of $67,275,500 Central ceiving eight per cent. a year. Thanks to Pacific stock exchanged their shares for the the Hill-Morgan operation of converting it same amount of Southern Pacific stock and into double the amount in bonds, the capital received in addition a bonus of twenty-five invested now actually shows as earning only per cent. in four per cent. bonds. The old four per cent.—which helps out arguments bonds were exchanged for new securities, before the Interstate Commerce Commission 22 Everybody's Magazine and elsewhere that railroad rates cannot pos- sibly be too high because the capital invested gets such a small return. In 1902 the Messrs. Moore and their friends bought up $70,000,000, in round numbers, of the stock of the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific—which had paid from two to three and a half per cent. a year in dividends through the hard times. By the simple de- vices of a lease and a holding company, They converted this $70,000,000 of Rock Island into $70,000,000 4 per cent Bonds $49,000,000 4 per cent Preferred Stock $70,000,000 Common Stock $189,000,000 In short, a capitalization of $70,000,000 was converted into a capitalization of $189,000,000 out of hand and without adding a single dollar to the actual in- vestment in the road itself. in railroad securities, the large sums that have been taken out of earnings and applied to per- manent improvements have made this good -so no harm, finally, has been done. In the last two years Chicago & Northwestern, after meeting all expenses and charges, in- cluding very liberal appropriations for main- tenance of track and equipment, has earned net and clear fifteen per cent. on its total issue of capital stock. But it has actually paid rather less than half of this in dividends. The remainder it has devoted to extensions and permanent improvements. In the last four years, the amount taken out of earn- ings for permanent betterments, over and above the regular and liberal appropriations for maintenance, is $23,321,604. If one goes back eight years the amount reaches $50,000,- ooo, or half the total stock outstanding at the date of the last annual report. And during all that time the road has paid dividends on its stock averaging about seven per cent.- surely a fair return upon the capital invested. In other words, the Chicago & North- western has charged rates for transportation in the last eight years that have plainly yielded more than $50,000,000 over and above a fair return upon the capital invested. And it is alleged to be a signal virtue that this $50,000,000, instead of being distributed among the stockholders in dividends, has been devoted to extensions and permanent improvements—thereby relieving stockhold- ers, to that important extent, from the ne- cessity of supplying the additional capital that the growth of the system and the in- creased demand for transportation facilities required. And this $189,000,000 enters into Mr. Stick- ney's calculation as part of that poor, starved railroad capital that gets hardly any return because rates are so low. Being criticized in some quarters for this rank inflation, the Rock Island people then issued a comparative statement proving that, with $119,000,000 of pure water just added, the capitalization of their road, per mile of line, was still decidedly smaller than that of many other Western roads—which is quite significant. Following this inflation, Rock Island bought $29,000,000 'Frisco common-all water; never paid a dividend-and gave in exchange 60 per cent. in bonds and 60 per cent. in stock, or 120 per cent. in all. 'Frisco bought control of Chicago & Eastern Illinois by issuing certificates at $250 a share for the common stock and $150 for the preferred. Mr. Morgan obligingly relieved Colonel John W. Gates of $30,600,000 Louisville & Nash- ville stock and sold it to Atlantic Coast Line for $10,000,000 cash, $35,000,000 in four per cent. bonds, and $5,000,000 in stock, or $50,- 000,000 in all. The manner in which Mr. Harriman trebled the capitalization of Chi- cago & Alton has been extensively explained and commented upon of late. Just here one is reminded of another argu- ment on the railroad side of overcapitalization, put forth by the Chicago & Northwestern, which may as well be noticed here. They say that if there was originally a good deal of water TAKING IT OUT OF THE SHIPPER The public-shippers and travelers—has been compelled to furnish the road, in eight years, with $50,000,000 of capital. But the public gets no return upon the capital that it has thus supplied. The average rate charged per passenger per mile in 1906 was 2.05 cents against only 2.02 cents in 1903. And the average rate charged per ton per mile for freight was the same in 1906 as in 1903, namely, 8.9 mills. Probably some conces- sions to big shippers were cut down mean- while, but the ordinary shipper actually paid more. The public gets no representation in the management on account of the capital that it furnishes. Clearly, it ought to control at least one-third of the board of directors. Song of the Driftweed 23 The Chicago & Northwestern is merely ately made. That the general effect was to one example out of many. Practically all the inflate capitalization is obvious, however. big roads yearly take great sums out of earn- You can hardly bore into this subject any- ings and devote them to permanent improve where without striking water. The last re- ments and extensions. This is held to be port of the Interstate Commerce Commission an exceedingly virtuous practise, and to atone shows that the par value of all outstanding in great part for whatever stock-watering has railroad securities was $13,805,258,121, or been indulged in. The idea really is that if $65,926 per mile of road. I think it doubtful the financiers have created great quantities of that more than two-thirds of this represents bogus stocks and palmed them off upon the any legitimate investment of capital in the public, it doesn't matter, because the same properties. The gross earnings of the railroads public can be made to pay such rates for for 1906 were $2,319,760,030, or an average transportation as will give substantial value of $10,543 per mile. The dividends paid in to the watered securities. 1906 were greater by $34,248,605 than were It is not possible to trace directly the in- paid by substantially the same roads in 1905. flation of capital that has resulted from The gross earnings of the railroads in 1906 much of the financial strategy of the railroad amounted to nearly $30 per capita of the in late years—such as the Pennsylvania Rail- entire population. The gross receipts of the road's purchase of Baltimore & Ohio, Norfolk federal government were less than $9 per cap- & Western, Chesapeake & Ohio; Baltimore, ita. It seems worth while to inquire whether & Ohio's purchase of Reading; Reading's railroad rates are too high; but there can be purchase of the Central Railroad of New Jer- no satisfactory answer until we know what sey, etc., because no new issue of securities to relation outstanding securities bear to the finance each distinct purchase was immedi- actual investment. The third of Mr. Payne's articles, dealing further with watered Railroad Securities, will appear in the August number. Song of the Driftweed By JESSIE MACKAY L ERE'S to the home that was never, never ours! 11 Toast it full and fairly when the winter lowers. Speak ye low, my merry men, sitting at your ease; Harken to the drift in the roaring of the seas. Here's to the life we shall never live on earth! Cut for us awry, awry, ages ere the birth. Set the teeth and meet it well, wind upon the shore; Like a lion, in the face look the Nevermore! Here's to the love we were never meant to win! What of that? A many shells have a pearl within; Some are mated with the gold in the light of day; Some are buried fathoms deep in the seas away. Here's to the selves we shall never, never be! We're the drift of the world and the tangle of the sea. It's far beyond the Pleiad, it's out beyond the sun Where the rootless shall be rooted when the wander-year is done! What is The House of Lords? By ARNOLD WHITE Author of "English Democracy," "For Efficiency," etc. IN England we have, socially speak- (ing, no individuals. Who plays a "lone hand,” plays to lose. We are caste-ridden; the rich peer is the Brah- man, the penniless commoner the pa- riah. Speaking broadly, we are servile to the castes above us, overbearing to inferiors. Were it not so, the fragment from the wreck of feudalism known as the House of Lords would never have floated safely into the twentieth century. How completely the caste principle still dominates English society is clear to any competent observer. School- masters, navy and army crammers, and other experts in preparing the middle and upper classes for their careers, openly state that direct connection with the peerage gives a young man ten years' start in the handicap of life. In the political arena the cadet of a noble house who becomes a candidate for Parliament is already half a winner. Essential details concerning him are in “Debrett”-a guide-book to the peer- age. His rival may have the grace of Mercury, the strength of Sandow, the tongue of Savonarola, the virtue of St. Anthony, and the wisdom of Solon; but if he be a middle-class Smith or Jones, he is required to prove himself in public for ten years before he ceases to be furtively regarded as a scheming adventurer with nefarious designs on the public. This public's desire to know who a man is, its dislike of strangers, and its reverence for caste, partially account for the feline vitality. of the House of Lords—these things, together with the reverence paid to the Upper House as representative of prop- erty, and the actual grip of the Lords on the land. In theory indefensible, the House of Lords as a Senate seems in fact ir- replaceable. England has no Supreme Court to guard the Constitution; the Royal veto has fallen into disuse; no Alexander Hamilton has planted in our constitution the fundamental principles of liberty, life, and ownership. Noth- ing forbids legislation that would im- pair faith in contracts. Any Jack Cade or Jack Straw who can secure a ma- jority in the Commons could alter the laws of life and property-after getting rid of the House of Lords. In fact, our only existing safeguard against des- potism, socialism, and extravagance, or other results of brain-storm in a dema- gogue who has captured the House of Commons—to our shame be it said, is the Hereditary House. Legal power to suggest second thoughts to the omnipotent, but never unanimous proletariat belongs to the Lords alone. And—an extremely im- portant point, since it means an assur- ance against arbitrary use of the veto —the one condition of existence to the Lords is that they shall always be right in the view of the majority of the people. For the hereditary principle is abhorred by sensible people, whether philoso- What is the House of Lords? 25 phers or demagogues, and the fact of land- The House of Commons is about to pass a ownership in town and country creates among resolution abridging the powers of the Upper Radicals and Socialists permanent hostility House. In 1886, a similar resolution was de- to the House of Lords; the Lords, therefore, feated by 202 to 106; in 1888, by 223 to 162; legislate with a halter round their necks. An by 201 to 160 in 1889; by 201 to 139 in 1890. important bill sent up from the House of Even if the resolution is carried this year, Commons can be rejected only when the unless the Commons are supported by the political barometer is at “set fair.” In other army and navy commanders having author- words, the Peers will sign their own death ity to vote, it will have no result. But the warrant the first time they fail to discern the fact remains that the position of the Peers is true feelings of the country more accurately now seriously challenged for the first time than the House of Commons. When they since the great Reform Bill; and the agita- err, they fall. Twice in the last fifteen years tion gives fresh reason for an examination of General Elections have confirmed the view the House of Lords, as it now is. taken by the Lords and have contradicted the assumption of ministers in the Lower House II that they, and not the Peers, represent the peo- ple. The House of Commons represents our Battle is joined on the issue of the land. moods; the House of Lords our settled opin- During the nineteenth century the dedica- ions. A Sloth when the Tories are in power, the tion of land to pleasure and sport advanced Upper House is a Porcupine with the Liberals. by leaps and bounds, greatly increasing the DE SUASANA Copyright by H. C. White Co. INTERIOR OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS, SHOWING THE THRONE AND THE OFFICIAL SEAT OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR. 26 Everybody's Magazine power of the House of Lords by restoring plenty. The absence of the vine and olive in the worst features of that feudalism which, this climate simplifies the agricultural prob- throughout the eighteenth century, was crum- lem. No Jacquerie is likely to occur in our bling. The Lords now own in the aggre- time among rural laborers who are without gate 15,500,000 acres of land with an an- the revolutionary instinct, and who prefer the nual rent roll of $65,000,000, or an average glow of great cities to the monotony of the of $115,000 a year each. Children who are spade. to inherit this land are labeled lawmakers in Yet when all this is said, the fact remains their cots. And a bankrupt, a voluptuary, that it is the resentment by masses of people or an idiot, though himself suspended, hands who are neither Socialists nor Radicals, of on to his son or successor the power of their exclusion from the land and of the legislation. It goes without saying that no enormous unearned wealth accruing from legislature so composed can act impartially in the land to the Lords, that is prompting the dealing with questions affecting the land laws. efforts now being made to abridge the power It is the demand of the people for rights in of the Peers. And these efforts are not likely this vast territory that is threatening the ex- to fail. istence of the House of Lords. The Prime The powers of the Lords already have Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, been restricted until the control of the in beginning the long-pending assault on the Commons in all the great affairs of State is land system, has declared that a strong de- practically supreme. The Lords may not mand for small holdings exists in many parts meddle with money bills; have no control over of the country, and that in one district after the navy or army; may not interfere with the another official returns show that the request control of the House of Commons over foreign for land was met and colonial af- by a blank refusal fairs, matters re- on the part of the lating to peace and Lords. These as- war, treaties nor sertions are, how- internal adminis- ever, vigorously tration. The denied by the Lords cannot up- Marquis of Lans- set the Cabinet nor downe on behalf exercise control of the Peers. over the monarch. Whatever the All these things truth as to this are in the domain may prove, it is of the elected certain that the House. Practically immediate hin- the only power left drance to the dis- to the Lords is that tribution of rural of the veto, which land in England is, is now threatened. contrary to general As individuals, belief, less the un- however, the willingness of Lords have the landlords to sell sa me personal Copyright by H. C. White Co. than the inordi- THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT FROM ACROSS THE THAMES. privileges as for- nate cost of trans- merly — they are fer caused by the opposition of the lawyers free from arrest in civil process in "coming, go- to the simplification of the land system. The ing, or returning"; every peer has the right great leaders of the legal profession are peers of access to the crown, and dukes are officially themselves, and a sinister alliance exists be- the king's cousins. A peer accused of crime tween hereditary privilege and the trades- may refuse to recognize the courts. He then union instinct of ennobled lawyers. · must be tried by his fellow members of the To be sure, there is no land hunger in Upper House. But this has come to be re- England of the kind with which Ireland is garded as a dangerous practise, since the familiar. Almost anybody content to satisfy majority of the peers themselves seem to the attorney and the landlord can buy land in resent such use of privilege. A recent in- What is the House of Lords? stance of this was the trial of Earl Russell, creations are resented by peers of ancient accused of bigamy. The evidence tended lineage as a dilution of the privileges that to show that he had remarried after an their ancestors monopolized. American divorce that was proved invalid. If the peers are to-day ten times as numer- Lord Russell de- ous as they were manded a jury of his under the Tudors, peers, and although the Liberals are re- there was good rea- sponsible. Mr. Glad- son to believe that a stone, despite the common jury would fact that his farewell have dealt leniently speech in Parliament with him, on the was a solemn warn- ground that his of- ing to the Heredi- fense was purely tary House that its technical, the House days were numbered, of Lords sent him to created more Peers prison. than any one min- ister since the Revo- III lution, while the se- cret favor with which The title to nobili- the peerage is re- ty in England rests garded by the rich on two conditions- members of the Lib- upon the royal sum- eral Party contrasts mons to Parliament sharply with the and, according to menaces commonly modern doctrine, up- uttered from the on taking the seat. platform. Since the Unlike the continen- great Reform Bill, tal noble, therefore, Liberals have creat- who is noble by birth, ed 232 peers to 131 children of a British created by the Con- Peer are commoners servative and Union- THE DUKE OF NORFOLK AT TEA, AFTER THE during the father's ist governments. lifetime. Sons of the The Radical, Mr. higher nobility are by courtesy permitted Cyril Flower, for instance, won a seat in to use the prefix "Lord,” as in the case the Commons by the eloquence with which he of Lord Charles Beresford, but they are not condemned the House of Lords. He then peers. Eldest sons of peers are often given accepted a peerage—is now Lord Battersea. titular rank because courtesy permits them Including three princes of the royal blood, to use their fathers' lesser titles—as in the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Connaught, the case of the Earl of Yarmouth, who is not and Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, and will not be a peer until the death of his there are now 618 peers. There are also father, the Marquis of Hertford. Irish and eleven Imperial peeresses, and three Scottish Scotch peerages do not of necessity give mem- peeresses in their own right, of whom Mona bership in the House of Lords. For instance, Josephine T. Stapleton, Baroness Beaumont, Lord Curzon has an Irish peerage, but is a girl of thirteen, has the most ancient title, eligible to membership only in the House of her barony dating back to 1309. Commons. In the reign of Elizabeth there for two decades past the peer-making were only sixty lay Peers. The Stuarts power has belonged to the leading men of a created 108, Pitt 141. Taking the whole party who were of much the same strain of House there are only sixty Peers who can blood. Lord Salisbury's government and boast of old titles. There are, in fact, two that of Mr. Balfour—with the exception of orders in the House of Lords, and the Peers Mr. Chamberlain in the Cabinet and Mr. themselves never forget the difference be- Andrew Bonar Law, Under Secretary for the tween the old and the new men-although it Board of Trade-consisted of a coterie of is concealed from the outer world. New peers and peers' relations. The Lords ruled GOODWOOD RACES. Everybody's Magazine the Cabinet. So intimate was one minister with another that almost everybody was known and addressed by col- leagues as Freddie, Algy, Arthur, George, Alfred, Gerald, or Victor. These ministers never mixed on terms of equality with the middle classes. They had no violent likes or dislikes; they worshiped “good form" and decorum; and regarded vice and immorality with less aversion than a breach of etiquette. With a Cabinet that was practically a sub-committee of the Lords, the recommendations submitted to the King for the creation of peerages were governed by two considera- Photograph by Messrs. Bassano, London. LORD JAMES OF HEREFORD. THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, ONE OF THE RICHEST AND MOST INFLUENTIAL OF ENGLISH PEERS. tions-political convenience and national advantage. It has never been denied that the late Lord Salisbury's rather sudden retirement from office was the result of a difference of opinion with the Sovereign on the subject of the eleva- tion of a certain financier to the House of Lords. The Marquis of Salisbury is reported to have said, “I am an old man, Sir, and would ask permission to leave my suc- cessor the privilege of recommending the elevation of Sir - to the House of Lords." Many peerages are granted as the result of bargains between party managers and aspirants to hereditary honors. In the majority of cases there is some ostensible reason which an easy-going public opinion accepts as sufficient to justify the appointment. Does a man brew an ocean of THE DUKE OF RICHMOND, What is the House of Lords? arsenical beer, amassing a great fortune thereby—a small sum given to charity and a large sum to party funds are counted as justifying the elevation of that brewer to the red benches of the Upper House. Occasionally the creation of a peer is accompanied by mystery. A case in point is a barony created last year. The recipient was a rich man, but there was no reason known to the public for conferring on him even the honor of knighthood. This peerage is still the subject of angry comment and may some day see the light as a chronique scandaleuse. The new peer is not a politician. He was 8.8 THE DUKE OF PORTLAND, THE DUCHESS OF ALBANY AND THE BISHOP OF LONDON AT A FULHAM PALACE GARDEN PARTY. unknown in any of the spheres in which men acquire such distinction as is conferred in Great Britain on an admiral who has won a battle, a statesman who has ruled a great department, or a philanthropist who raises a down-trodden class. The real fact was, I am informed on good authority, that it was necessary to provide an annuity for a lady who has played a prominent part in smart society during the last few years, and that the peerage was payment to one of the two men who would consent to provide the money required to prevent a colossal scandal. It is true, of course, that exceptional ability in science, marked success in the law, or distinction in army or navy, still qualifies a man to a place in the Upper House. But nevertheless the sale of peerages and other titles has Photograph by Lafayette, i ondon. LORD WILLIAM CECIL. 30 Everybody's Magazine IV now reached such a point that the man in House except in obedience to special Whips the street has begun to grumble. Mr. Gib- from their party, are just like average well- son Bowles has publicly declared without groomed men. Others are fusty eccentrics contradiction that a very large sum was who might be mistaken for curio dealers in a placed at the disposal back street in a cathe- of Mr. Balfour and dral town. One such his chief Whip before is the Marquis of Clan- the last election. Mr. ricarde, whose treat- Bowles supports his ment of his Irish ten- statement by saying ants has been a subject that the election fund of Parliamentary de- has been enriched by bate for more than two the recipients of titles decades, and who is now who have paid sums the subject of a disinher- varying between $150,- iting bill. Others prove 000 for a knighthood in their bearing that and $1,000,000 for a they have risen from new peerage. Mr. the ranks, like the Bowles goes on to say cheerful orator at the that it was calculated Mansion House ban- a year ago that at least quet, who began his $2,500,000 must have oration in the following been encashed from terms: “Sprung, my various sources by the Lord, as you and I are, party fund. from the dregs of the people " It would be a mis- take, however, in spite of appearances, to The Upper House, think that the House thus constituted, con- of Lords is composed tains the best and the largely of degenerate worst of the nation; the scions of an effete aris- richest and the poor- tocracy, or that the est. I know a peer of ability displayed by its ancient lineage who members either in de- has just been expelled Photograph by Lafayette, London. bate or in the transac- from his club for not THE DUKE OF ABERCORN. tion of business in com- paying his annual sub- mittee or in the Cabinet scription. The claims of the club committee falls below the standard of the best men in were unmet because the peer in question did the House of Commons. Outside the land not possess the money and could not get it; yet question or their own privileges, the Lords are he is not included among the “black sheep." more impartial than the Commons. I once Collectively, the Lords are a strange sight, had occasion to give evidence before a com- and a rare one, for four out of five seldom mittee of the House of Commons on the alien attend a debate. Stand in St. Stephen's question and before a committee of the House Hall and watch the demeanor of the peers as of Lords on the sweating system. they file out into the night after a great division T he impression left on my mind by the two on a national crisis. A more extraordinary committees was that the majority of the body of men to invest with the power of members of the Commons' committee were Constitutional veto cannot be imagined. The always looking over their shoulders in the leaders, of course, look like other people, but direction of their own constituencies, with an among the others retreating chins and fore- eye to the effect their report might have upon heads, the affectation of monocles, rickety their electoral prospects; while the Lords' legs, dried-up physique and vacant faces committee seemed to have no other object than are unpleasantly numerous. Certain noble the investigation of truth. The late M. C. lords, of the sort who never enter the Bradlaugh, one of the Commons' committee, What is the House of Lords? 31 for instance, used his great forensic powers to About two years ago one of the scandals that browbeat me into admissions that might be afflict all highly organized and wealthy so- of electoral value to the party to which he cieties became public in consequence of pro- belonged. On the other hand, courtesy, cedures before a criminal court. In the course patience, energy, wisdom, and impartiality of this trial correspondence was impounded in characterized the labors of the Lords' com- which the names of no less than six peers were mittee, of which such men as the late Lord implicated. Blackmail to the extent of $200,- Derby, Lord Dunraven, and Lord Rothschild 000 was paid by one of them to the accused were members. The report of the Commons' to prevent the mention of his name. As for committee, being a compromise of political the other five peers, the decision of a com- opinions, was worthless; even intellectually it mittee composed of a law officer of the Crown, contrasted unfavorably with the report of the a representative of the King, and a Cabinet Lords. Minister, was that it was better that no prose- cution should take place, as the public scandal V would be so great as to counterbalance the advantages of bringing to justice a group of On the vices and follies of individual peers coroneted debauchees. —the so-called "black sheep”—are founded Of the twenty-two English dukes in the the most telling attacks upon the Hereditary peerage of England, there are only five whose House. circumstances, abilities, and career entitle It is only fair to say that “black sheep" in them to be regarded as possible leaders of the House of Lords are, however, not more the nation. The Dukes of Norfolk, Bedford, numerous than in other walks of life. Among Devonshire, Portland, and Richmond have the twelve apostles was a Judas-nearly nine maintained the best traditions of public TEA ON THE TERRACE OF THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. per cent. of the apostolate. Among 618 well- fed men of leisure, there will always be a certain number who are unworthy, nor can more be expected of peers than of apostles. Some of the blackest of the flock are those whose crimes never reach the newspapers. service. As for the other dukes, matrimonial scandals, impecuniosity, or dissoluteness are, or should be, disqualifications for member- ship of an assembly that confers hereditary powers of government upon its members. But the best of the House of Lords is very 32 Everybody's Magazine good. Repose, straightforwardness, courtesy, $21,152,680, and a balance sheet for that coolness, and courage are the characteristics time shows nothing on the credit side of the of these English gentlemen who happen to account; but the critics point out that such a be peers. Probably as good an example as system is impracticable for other owners. any other of what is best in the House of Among the dukes, the only other great Lords is the Duke of Bedford. He is a personality is the Duke of Devonshire, whose middle-aged man who is without ambition, combination of common sense, patriotism, who shuns public notice and refuses office. and lethargy gives him a unique position. He is very shy and silent, but buoyant in Enormously wealthy, and married to a for- spirits, with the bearing of a man who lives eign wife, he has cosmopolitan tastes, and much in the open air. When he was urged to spends a portion of the year abroad. By the take office and to come to public he is credited the front in politics, the with perennial somno- unfitness for leadership lence, but really he is of all the other dukes was alert and astute. Cold represented to him. This in nature and tempera- one was a drunkard, that mentally indisposed as one was an incompetent, he is to express his feel- the other one had a for- ings, the superficial ob- eign wife. “Ah," said server attributes to him the Duke of Bedford, want of earnest purpose. “you wish to act on the The late Right Hon. principle that among Powell Williams was blind men a one-eyed wont to repeat a say- man is king." But so ing to the effect that he well and so quietly has had only once seen the he served that shrewd Duke of Devonshire in judges speak of him in earnest, and that was country houses and club when he said “Cham- smoking - rooms as a pagne ought to be future Prime Minister drunk out of a pail.” when the country may The Duke of Devon- be really in extremity. shire is a great English- In command of the man and has played a smartest militia battal- part in public life for ion in the country, the half a century. Duke of Bedford has Among the mar- set himself to save the quises, Lord Lansdowne militia, an institution stands first. During the founded a thousand early part of the Boer years ago by Alfred the War, when he was War Great, and marked down Secretary, and British for destruction by a Generals were retreat- Chancery barrister, Mr. ing before a Boer po- Haldane, last March. The militia, like the tato-dealer, Lord Lansdowne was held House of Lords, is an institution that must responsible by public opinion for the hu- have in it something harmonious with the miliating fiasco. With the gay unwisdom English character, or it would not have lasted of his order, he went salmon fishing in Ireland for ten centuries, surviving dynasties, revolu- in August, 1899, when Lord Wolseley and tions, and time. Whether the Duke will suc- the staff officers at the War Office were ceed remains to be seen, but his courage, reso- entreating him to mobilize an army corps lution, and industry have been phenomenal. with the object of preventing the disasters In money matters the story of the Bedford- that afterward happened. Lord Lans- shire estates writes like a romance. In downe's impeachment was called for, and eighty years the Dukes of Bedford have spent the case against him has never been dis- on education, churches, schools, pensions, proved; but at the height of his unpopu- compassionate allowances, etc., no less than larity the Prime Minister-Lord Salisbury- LORD ROSEBERY AND HIS SON AT THE ASCOT RACES. What is the House of Lords? 33 nominated Lord Lansdowne to succeed him camp as a militia officer and took a strong as Foreign Minister, believing him the strong- part in the work of tariff reform. It is safe est man in the Cabinet. And as Foreign Min- to predict for Lord Ampthill a great future. ister Lord Lansdowne has done well, while He is a giant and an athlete, good looking, as Leader of the House of Lords, he is inimi- dangerous when roused. I remember an in- table. His advice will be followed by the cident at the annual meeting of the Liberal majority of the Peers, and in his hands prac- Union Club. A member used to attend ap- tically rests the fate of the House of Lords. parently for the sole purpose of insulting Lord Among the 124 earls there is no rival to James of Hereford, thus stopping the busi- the mysterious and delightful “public ora- ness of the club. This happened for three tor,” Archibald Philip Primrose, Earl of or four years, until, upon one occasion, the Rosebery, who sits in the Upper House in eccentric rose as usual to wreck the meeting. virtue of his English barony. Lord Rose - After he had stopped the proceedings for bery's mysterious eclipse in political life has three or four minutes, Lord Ampthill, without not dimmed national appreciation of his emotion or haste, quietly rose from his seat, charm. In private life he is no less attrac- walked to the place where the orator was mis- tive than as a statesman. A grand seigneur, conducting himself, clasped him in his arms, with cultured taste, knowledge, and great and bore him struggling from the room. The wealth, his hospitality is splendid without os- difficulty thåt had puzzled some of the finest tentation. An omnivorous reader-he has legal brains in the United Kingdom was been known to read while washing his hands thus solved by the decision of a young man -he remembers what he reads; and since who may always be trusted to do the right the death of Lord Randolph Churchill, and thing. the accession of King Edward to the throne, All bishops of the Established Church are there has been no man in public or private members of the House of Lords, to which they life to approach him in the war of the wits. add no strength. They were originally created Mystery broods over Lord Rosebery; some peers because they were territorial magnates, unseen hand holds him back. not because of their ecclesiastical rank, and Earl Roberts, of course, is the great soldier since they parted with their landed possessions who is endeavoring to persuade Englishmen their presence in Parliament is an anachron- to accept virtual conscription, thereby bring- ism since the nonconformist ministers, Cath- ing many recruits to the Socialist ranks. olic priests, and Jewish rabbis are excluded. Among the eighty viscounts, the names of St. Aldwyn and Wolseley are the only two In all nations that have become great of distinction. As Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, powers particular families have stood out Lord St. Aldwyn, when Chancellor of the conspicuously for generations as personifying Exchequer, sold to himself his own property principles; they receive homage voluntarily on Salisbury Plain for the sum of $2,325,000, offered; their fame is jealously guarded and and he also drew a pension which is granted cherished by the people. So whatever on the ground of poverty, although he had re- future may be in store for the Lords, the past ceived nearly $2,500,000 in salary besides the is their own, and England is proud of it. If revenues of his estates. the hereditary principle is abolished, if black There are no less than 336 imperial barons, sheep are excluded, and access to the patrician forty-four Scottish and sixty-five Irish crea- order is limited to men of real merit, the tions. I incline to pick Arthur 0. Villiers Upper House, in some form, will be left, in Russell, G.C.S.I., Baron Ampthill, as the spite of the ballot, for generations to come. most capable and promising of the company. As I have said, the general sentiment is Some people would prefer Alfred Harms- against the continuance of the hereditary worth, Lord Northcliffe, but Lord Ampthill's principle. The resistance of the Conserva- achievements are unique. Not yet forty, tive leaders to its extinction is unintelligible. for four years he was Governor of Madras, They must be aware that it can last only and for nine months he was Viceroy of during quiet times—when the country is India during Lord Curzon's absence. This prosperous and contented. Unless the hered- position of tremendous responsibility Lord itary principle is surrendered when times are Ampthill occupied with perfect success. quiet, it will be violently withdrawn in the When he returned home, he went into next crisis of British national life. . The Honk-Honk Breed By STEWART EDWARD WHITE Author of "The Blazed Trail," "The Silent Places,” etc. Illustrations by Horace Taylor IT was Sunday at the ranch. For a won- Smith catched it. He named this yere bull I der the weather had been favorable, the snake Clarence and got it so plumb gentle it windmills were all working, the bogs had followed him everywhere. One day old P. T. dried up, the beef had lasted over, the remuda Barnum come along and wanted to buy this had not strayed-in short, there was nothing Clarence snake-offered Terwilliger a thou- to do. Sang had given us a baked bread- sand cold-but Smith wouldn't part with the pudding with raisins in it. We filled it in-a snake nohow. So finally they fixed up a deal wash basin full of it-on top of a few inci- so Smith could go along with the show. They dental pounds of chile con, baked beans, soda shoved Clarence in a box in the baggage-car, biscuits, air-tights but after a while and other delica- Mr. Snake gets $o cies. Then we ad- lonesome he gnaws journed with our out and starts to pipes to the shady crawl back to find side of the black- his master. Just smith's shop where as he is half-way we could watch the between the bag- ravens on top the gage - car and the adobe wall of the smoker, the coup- corral. Somebody lin' give way told a story about right on that heavy ravens. This led to grade between road-runners. Custer and Rocky This suggested rat- Point. Well, sir, tlesnakes. They Clarence wound started Windy Bill. his head round one "Speakin' of brake wheel and snakes,'' said "SPEAKIN' OF SNAKES," SAID WINDY. his tail around the Windy, "I mind other and held that when they catched the great granddaddy of train together to the bottom of the grade. But all the bull snakes up at Lead in the Black it stretched him twenty-eight feet and they Hills. I was only a kid then. This wasn't had to advertise him as a boa-constrictor." no such tur'ble long a snake, but he was Windy Bill's history of the faithful bull more'n a foot thick. Looked just like a snake aroused to reminiscence the grizzled sahuaro stalk. Man name of Terwilliger stranger, who thereupon held forth as follows: 34 The Honk-Honk Breed Wall, I've see things and I've heerd things, human race for one year was to be collected some of them ornery, and some you'd love to and subjected to hydraulic pressure it would believe, they was that gorgeous and improb- equal in size the pyramid of Cheops?” able. Nat'ral history was always my hobby “Look yere,” says I, sittin' up. “Did you and sportin' events my special pleasure—and ever pause to excogitate that if all the hot air this yarn of Windy's reminds me of the only you're dispensin’ was to be collected together, chanst I ever had to ring in business and it would fill a balloon big enough to waft you pleasure and hobby all in one grand merry- and me over that Bullyvard of Palms to go-round of joy. It come about like this: yonder gin mill on the corner?” One day a few year back I was sittin' on the He didn't say nothin' to that,just yanked beach at Santa Barbara watchin' the sky stay me to my feet, faced me toward the gin mill up and wonderin' what to do with my year's above mentioned, and exerted considerable wages, when a little squinch-eye, round-face pressure on my arm in urgin' of me forward. with big bow spectacles came and plumped “You ain't so much of a dreamer, after all," down beside me. thinks I. “In important matters you are “Did you ever stop to think,” says he, plumb decisive." V 32 umbes TUSKY AND ME SET AROUND WATCHIN' THE PLAYFUL CRITTERS CHASE GRASSHOPPERS. shovin' back his hat, “that if the horse-power delivered by them waves on this beach in one single hour could be concentrated behind washin' machines, it would be enough to wash all the shirts for a city of four hundred and fifty-one thousand, one hundred and thirty- six people?” "Can't say I ever did,” says I, squintin' at him sideways. “Fact,” says he, “and did it ever occur to you that if all the food a man eats in the course of a natural life could be gathered together at one time, it would fill a wagon train twelve miles long?" "You make me hungry,” says I. "And ain't it interestin' to reflect,” he goes on, “that if all the finger-nail parin's of the We sat down at a little table, and my friend ordered a beer and a chicken sandwich. “Chickens,” says he, gazin' at the sand- wich, "is a dollar apiece in this country, and plumb scarce. Did you ever pause to ponder over the return chickens would give on a small investment? Say you start with ten hens. Each hatches out thirteen aigs, of which allow a loss of say six for childish accidents. At the end of the year you has eighty chickens. At the end of two years that flock has in- creased to six hundrea and twenty. At the end of the third year- He had the medicine tongue! Ten days later him and me was occupyin' of an old ranch fifty mile from anywhere. When they run stage coaches, this joint used to be a road- 36 Everybody's Magazine house. The outlook was on about a thousand little brown foot-hills. A road two miles, four rods, two foot, eleven inches in sight run by in front of us. It come over one foot-hill and disappeared over another. I know just how long it was, for later in the game I measured it. Out back was about a hundred little wire chicken corrals filled with chickens. We had two kinds. That was the doin's of Tuscarora. My pardner called himself Tuscarora Max- illary. I asked him once if that was his real name. “It's the realest little old name you ever heerd tell of,” says he. “I know, for I made it myself—liked the sound of her. Parents ain't got no rights to name their children. Parents don't have to be called them names.” Well, these chickens, as I said, was of two kinds. The first was these low-set heavy- weight propositions with feathers on their laigs, and not much laigs at that, called Co- chin Chinys. The other was a tall, ridiculous outfit made up entire of bulgin' breast and gangle laig. They stood about two foot and a half tall, and when .they went to peck the ground their tail feathers stuck straight up to the sky. Tusky called 'em Japanese games. “Which the chief advantage of them chickens is,” says he, “that in weight about ninety per cent. of 'em is breast meat. Now my idee is, that if we can cross 'em with these Cochin Chiny fowls, we'll have a low-hung, heavy-weight chicken runnin' strong on breast meat. These Jap games is too small, but if we can bring 'em up in size and shorten their laigs, we'll shore have a winner.” That looked good to me; so we started in on that idee. The theery was bully; but she didn't work out. The first broods we hatched growed up with big husky Cochin Chiny bodies and little short necks, perched up on laigs three foot long. Them chickens couldn't reach ground nohow. We had to build a table for 'em to eat off, and when they went out rustlin' for themselves they had to con- fine themselves to hill-sides or flyin' insects. Their breasts was all right, though—"And think of them drumsticks for the boardin’- house trade!” says Tusky. So far things wasn't so bad. We had a good grub-stake. Tusky and me used to feed them chickens twict a day, and then set around watchin' the playful critters chase grasshoppers up an' down the wire corrals, while Tusky figgered out what'd happen if somebody was dumfool enough to gather up all the grasshoppers in the world, and find out how many baskets they'd fill. That's about as near's we come to solving the chicken problem. One day in the spring I hitched up, rustled a dozen of the youngsters into coops and druv over to the railroad to make our first sale. I couldn't fold them chickens up into them coops at first, but then I stuck the coops up on aidge and they worked all right, though I will admit they was a comical sight. At the railroad one of them towerist trains had just slowed down to a halt as I come up, and the towerists was paradin' up and down, allowin' " CLARENCE HELD THAT TRAIN TOGETHER, BUT IT STRETCHED HIM TWENTY-EIGHT FEET." The Honk-Honk Breed they was particular enjoyin' of the warm Californy sunshine. One old terrapin with gray chin whiskers projected over with his wife and took a peek through the slats of my coop. He straightened up like some one had touched him off with a red-hot poker. “Stranger," said he, in a scared kind of whisper, “what's them?” “Them's chickens," says I. He took another long look. “Marthy," says he to the old woman, “this will be about all! We come out from Ioway to see the Wonders of Californy, but I can't go nothin' stronger than this. If these is chickens, I don't want to see no Big Trees." Well, I sold them chickens all right for a dollar and two bits, which was better than I expected, and got an order for more. About ten days later I got a letter from the com- mission house. I RUSTLED GREASEWOOD. We is returnin' a sample of your Arts and Crafts chickens with the lovin' marks of the teeth instinct like the love of a mother for her young still onto them. Don't send any more till they stops and it can't be era dicated! Them chickens pursuin' of the nimble grasshopper. Dentist bill will is constructed by a divine Providence for the foller. express purpose of chasin' grasshoppers, just With the letter came the remains of one of as the beaver is made for buildin' dams and the chickens. Tusky and I, very indignant, the cow-puncher is made for whisky and faro- cooked her for supper. She was tough, all games. We can't keep 'em from it. If we right. We thought she might do better biled, was to shut 'em in a dark cellar, they'd flop so we put her in the pot overnight. Nary after imaginary grasshoppers in their dreams, bit. Well, then we got interested. Tusky and die emaciated in the midst of plenty. kep’ the fire goin' and I rustled greasewood. Jimmy, we're up agin the Cosmos, the over- We cooked her three days and three nights. soul—" Oh, he had the medicine tongue, At the end of that time she was sort of pale Tusky had, and risin' on the wings of elo- and frazzled, but still givin' points to three- quence that way he had me faded in ten year old jerky on cohesion and other uncom minutes. In fifteen I was wedded solid to the promisin' forces of Nature. We buried her notion that the bottom had dropped out of the then, and went out back to recuperate. chicken business. I think now that if we'd There we could gaze on the smilin' land- shut them hens up, we might have-still, I scape dotted by about four hundred long- don't know; they was a good deal in what laigged chickens swoopin' here and there after Tusky said. grasshoppers. “Tuscarora Maxillary," says I, “did you . “We got to stop that,” says I. ever stop to entertain that beautiful thought -“We can't,” murmured Tusky, inspired. that if all the dumfoolishness possessed now We can't. It's born in 'em; it's a primal by the human race could be gathered to- gether and lined up alongside of us, the first Borice feller to come along would say to it, “Why, hello Solomon!'" We quit the notion of chickens for profit right then and there; but we couldn't quit the place. We hadn't much money, for one thing; and then we kind of liked loafin' around and raisin' a little garden truck, and- oh, well, I might as well say it; we had a notion about placers in the dry wash back of the house—you know how it is. So we stayed on, and kept a-raisin' these long-laigs for the 38 Everybody's Magazine mivo IT WAS A PURTY SIGHT TO SEE 'EM SAILIN' IN FROM ALL DIRECTIONS. it had growed up from the soil like a toad- stool.” fun of it. I used to like to watch 'em pro- jectin' around, and I fed 'em twict a day about as usual. So Tusky and I lived alone there together, happy as ducks in Arizona. About onct in a month somebody'd pike along the road. She wasn't much of a road; generally more chuck- holes than bumps, though sometimes it was the other way around. Unless it happened to be a man on horseback or maybe a freighter without the fear of God in his soul, we didn't have no words with them; they was too busy cussin' the highways and generally too mad for social discourses. One day early in the year, when the 'dobe mud made ruts to add to the bumps, one of them automobеels went past. It was the first Tusky and me had seen in them parts, so we run out to view her. Owin' to the high spots on the road she looked like one of these movin' picters as to blur and wabble; sounded like a cyclone mingled with cuss-words; and smelt like hell on house- cleanin' day. “Which them folks don't seem to be en- joyin' of the scenery," says I to Tusky. “Do you reckon that there blue trail is smoke from the machine or re- marks from the inhabit- ants thereof?” Tusky raised his head and sniffed long and inquirin'. "It's langwidge,” says he. “Did you ever stop to think that all the words in the dic- tionary hitched end to end would reach----" But at that minute I catched sight of sor e- thin' brass lyin' in the road. It proved to be a curled-up sort of horn with a rubber bulb on the end. I squoze the bulb, and jumped twenty foot over the remark she made. "Jarred off the machine," says Tusky. "Oh, did it?” says I, my nerves still wrong. “I thought maybe About this time we abolished the wire chicken corrals because we needed some of the wire. Them long-laigs thereupon scat- tered all over the flat searchin' out their prey. When feed-time come I had to screech my lungs out gettin' of 'em in; and then some- times they didn't all hear. It was plumb dis- couragin', and I mighty nigh made up my, mind to quit 'em; but they had come to be sort of pets, and I hated to turn 'em down. It used to tickle Tusky almost to death to see me out there hollerin' away like an old bull- frog. He used to come out reg'lar, with his pipe lit, just to enjoy me. Finally I got mad and opened up on him. “Oh,” he explains, “it just plumb amuses me to see the dumfool at his childish work. Why don't you teach 'em to come to that brass. horn, and save your voice?” “Tusky," says I, with feelin', “sometimes you do seem to get a glimmer of real sense." W ell, first off them chickens used to throw back-somersets over that horn. You have no idee how slow chickens is to learn things. I could tell you things about chickens-say, this yere bluff about roosters bein'gallant is all wrong. I've watched 'em. When one finds. a nice feed he gobbles it so fast that the pieces foller down his throat like yearlin's through a hole in the fence. It's only when he scratches up a measly one-grain quick-lunch that he calls up the hens and stands noble and self-sacrificin' to one side. But that ain't the WANY nous, The Honk-Honk Breed 39 point; which is, that after two months I had them long-laigs so they'd drop everythin' and come kitin' at the honk-honk of that horn. It was a purty sight to see 'em, sailin' in from all direction's twenty foot at a stride. I was proud of 'em, and named 'em the Honk-honk Breed. We didn't have no others, for by now the coyotes and bob-cats had nailed the straight-breeds. There wasn't no wild cat or coyote could catch one of my Honk-honks; no sir! We made a little on our placer; just enough to keep interested. Then the supervisors decided to fix our road; and what's more, they done it! That's the only part of this yarn that's hard to believe; but, boys, you'll have to take it on faith. They plowed her, and nearer. Then over the hill come an auto- mobeel, blowin' vigorous at every jump. “Great blazes!” I yells to Tusky, kickin' over my chair as I springs to my feet. “Stop 'em! stop 'em!” But it was too late. Out the gate sprinted them poor devoted chickens, and up the road they trailed in vain pursuit. The last we seen of 'em was a minglin' of dust and dim figgers goin' thirty mile an hour after a dis- appearin' automobeel. That was all we seen for the moment. About three o'clock the first straggler came limpin' in, his wings hangin', his mouth open, his eyes glazed with the heat. By sundown fourteen had returned. All the rest had dis- appeared utter; we never seen 'em again. I SONT I YELLS TO TUSKY, "STOP "EM: STOP 'EM!" crowned her, and scraped her, and rolled her, and when they moved on we had the fanciest highway in the State of Californy. That noon-the day they finished the job -Tusky and I sat smokin' our pipes as per usual, when, 'way over the foot-hills we seen a cloud of dust and faint to our ears was bore a whizzin' sound. The chickens was gathered under the cottonwood for the heat of the day, but they didn't pay no attention. Then faint but clear we heerd another of them brass horns: “Honk! honk!” says it, and every one of them chickens woke up and stood at atten- tion. "Honk! honk!” it hollered clearer and reckon they just naturally run themselves into a sunstroke and died on the road. It takes a long time to learn a chicken a thing, but a heap longer to unlearn him. After that two or three of these yere auto- mobeels went by every day, all a-blowin' of their horns, all kickin' up a hell of a dust; and every time them fourteen Honk-honks of mine took along after 'em, just as I'd taught 'em to do, layin' to get to their corn when they caught up. No more of 'em died, but that fourteen did get into elegant trainin'. After a while they got to plumb enjoyin' it. When you come right down to it, a chicken don't have many amusements and relaxa- tions in this life. Scratchin' for worms, 92 1 st RACE TO THE FORCE AFTER THE THING GOT KOWED. WE MADE MONEY HAND OVER FIST. chasin' grasshoppers and wallerin' in the dust chines by chicken-power. Some of them is about the limits of joys for chickens. used to come way up from Los Angeles just It was sure a fine sight to see 'em after they to try out a new car along our road with the got well into the game. About nine o'clock Honk-honks for pacemakers. We charged every mornin' they would saunter down to the them a little somethin', and then, too, we rise of the road where they would wait patient opened up the road-house and the bar, so until a machine came along. Then it would we did purty well. It wasn't necessary to warm your heart to see the enthusiasm of work any longer at that bogus placer. Eve- 'em. With exultant cackles of joy they'd nin's we sat around outside and swapped trail in, reachin' out like quarter-hosses, their yarns and I bragged on my chickens. The wings half spread out, their eyes beamin' with chickens would gather round close to listen. delight. At the lower turn they'd quit. They liked to hear their praises sung all Then after talkin' it over excited-like for a right. You bet they sabe! The only reason few minutes, they'd calm down and wait for a chicken or any other critter isn't intelli- another. gent is because he hasn't no chance to ex- After a few months of this sort of trainin' pand. they got purty good at it. I had one two Why, we used to run races with 'em. Some year-old rooster that made fifty-four mile an of us would hold two or more chickens back hour behind one of those sixty-horse power of a chalk line, and the starter'd blow the Panhandles. When cars didn't come along horn from a hundred yards to a mile away, often enough, they'd all turn out and chase dependin' on whether it was a sprint or for jack-rabbits. They wasn't much fun at that distance. We had pools on the results, gave for 'em. After a short brief sprint the rabbit odds, made books, and kept records. After would crouch down plumb terrified, while the thing got knowed, we made money hand the Honk-honks pulled off triumphal dances over fist. around his shrinkin' form. Our ranch got to be purty well known them The stranger broke off abruptly and began days among automobeelists. The strength to roll a cigarette. of their engines was hoss-power, of course, “What did you quit it for, then?” ventured but they got to ratin' the speed of their ma- Charley out of the hushed silence. 40 The Telegraph-Poles 41 “Pride,” replied the stranger solemnly. grasshopper balls, race-meets, and afternoon “Haughtiness of spirit.”. hen-parties. They got idle and haughty, just “How so?” urged Charley after a pause. like folks. Then come race suicide. They “Them chickens,” continued the stranger got to feelin' so aristocratic the hens wouldn't after a moment, “stood around listenin' to me have no eggs.” a-braggin' of what superior fowls they was Nobody dared say a word. until they got all puffed up. They wouldn't “Windy Bill's snake" began the narra- have nothin' whatever to do with the ordinary tor genially. chickens we brought in for eatin' purposes, “Stranger," broke in Windy Bill with great but stood around lookin' bored when there emphasis, “as to that snake, I want you to wasn't no sport doin'. They got to be just understand this: yereafter in my estimation like that Four Hundred you read about in that snake is nothin' but an ornery angle- . the papers. It was one continual round of worm!” The Telegraph-Poles By WITTER BYNNER DALE in the jostle of men, Passed by the panic of souls, Prophets are wandering again- See them?—the telegraph-poles! Naked, prophetical trees, Miles over field, over fen, Swift beside rails to the seas, Motionless move among men. Chained a miraculous way, Rounding the world in their flight- Prophets of death in the day, Warning of life in the night. Sometimes the file on its march Pauses with piteous look- Threading a murmurous arch, Touching a curious brook. Sometimes a palpitant sound Falls on the marshes—but now Whispers of roots underground, Mourns an invisible bough. Birds, to renew weary wings, Come as of old—but the wires Never respond like the strings Woven in greenly hung lyres. “Strip all the leafage from life- So let its profit increase! Then, when you turn from the strife, Where is the shadow of peace?” Brain and Body By WILLIAM HANNA THOMSON, M.D., LL.D. Author of "Brain and Personality." Physician to the Roosevelt Hospital; Consulting Physician to New York State Manhattan Hospitals for the Insane; Formerly Professor of the Practise of Medicine and Diseases of the Nervous System, New York University Medical College; Ex-President of the New York Academy of Medicine, etc. THE world for ages did not know that the upon these areas. Take for instance the great brain had anything special to do, and faculty of speech, which is a generic and ex- least of all that it had everything to do with clusively human endowment, so directly con- the mind. On that account the brain is nected with thought that when a man thinks, never mentioned in the Bible, and the great he can think only in words. Now, after cer- physiologist and philosopher Aristotle, when tain brain injuries, commonly attendant upon he carefully examined the brain, concluded apoplexy, a person may remain speechless for that its only business was to cool the blood the rest of his life, and the explanation of for the heart! Every other important organ this was found to be that a very special re- of the body does something visible, either in gion of the brain had been physically ruined. its action or secretion; but the quiet brain A man was brought to Bellevue Hospital, has kept its greatest secrets so well, even wholly unable to speak a word, though he down to our own day, that most educated could hear words with his ears and read with people are still ignorant of the significant his eyes as well as ever. The story told by discoveries that recently have revealed its his friends was that in a drunken row a man particular connection with certain mental had poked the tip of an umbrella into his eye: operations. Indeed, although Galen, about But instead of seriously injuring that organ, a hundred and sixty years after Christ, de- it had passed over the ball into his brain just monstrated that the brain is the bodily seat of where the uttering speech center lies, separated the conscious mind, yet so little advance was from the eye by only a very thin plate in the made for seventeen hundred years after him bony roof of the orbit. While I was describing that when I graduated in medicine none of his case to a large class at my clinic, he saw a the great teachers of the day was aware of student with an umbrella in his hand, and any specific relations of the human brain to pointing to it, he burst into tears. As far as processes of thought. They all taught that we could learn, he never recovered his speech. the brain in its relation to mind was one or- That the place injured in this and similar gan, acting as a unit in all mental operations, instances was the sole seat of spoken language just as the lungs, in which each air-cell does was proved by the fact that not only did in- what all the other air-cells do. Hence, it was jury there invariably abolish speech, in the the whole brain that saw, or heard, or felt, precise meaning of the word, but that a like or thought. injury elsewhere had no such effect, whatever One reason for this long delay was that other effect it might have. physiologists could experiment only with the To make this clear, we might liken the brains of animals, such as dogs or monkeys, brain to a great department store, supplied but not with the brain of man. It was re- with water - pipes distributed to different served for physicians to make the great dis- floors, each foor having its own kind of covery that some distinctly mental functions goods. Now, if a pipe on one of the floors are absolutely dependent upon the physical happens to be too weak to resist the pressure integrity of particular areas of the brain sur- in it and, therefore, suddenly bursts, it may face. This they did by noting what might be flood and wholly spoil the stock, say, of wom- termed the experiments of disease or accident en's hats, while the rest of the store escapes. 42 Brain and Body 43 So, the integrity of all parts of the brain brain, as was the case with a patient of depends upon its supply of blood, which mine, a gentleman who one morning lost comes through its arteries at such a pres- not only all power of utterance, but also all sure that I have seen the blood spurt six ability to read. He could, however, hear feet from an artery in the arm when it was words perfectly and, strange to tell, he proved cut across. Let the walls of an artery in the that the place for arithmetical figures is in brain become weakened in structure by poi- a different brain locality from that for words, soned blood from unsuspected chronic kidney because he could read and write figures and disease, and they may some time give way, calculate every kind of sum in large business and the gush of blood may tear up the sur- transactions, which he successfully conducted rounding delicate brain tissue with resulting for seven years afterward, without once being symptoms according to the special location able to speak a word or even to read his own of the accident in the brain. I have often signature. warned patients, after examining their arter- ies, of their liability to the terrible calamity of a "stroke,” and have urged the supreme WORD-SHELVES IN OUR BRAINS importance of its prevention. Likewise, music notes are registered in a still The discovery of a special speech region different place, as is demonstrated by numer- in the brain was truly a great find, for it ous published instances of skilled musicians furnished a key for unlocking one chamber who suddenly lost all power to read music, after another of this mysterious physical or- though they could read everything else; while, gan of the mind. Even as regards the fac- vice versa, others have been found who became ulty of speech itself, it was soon revealed that word blind, but still could read music notes. it had three separate anatomical seats in the Still other facts that demonstrate the actual brain. One place is in the auditory region relations of the brain to the mind should be of the brain, where words coming to us mentioned, because they prepare us the better through the ear are registered; another place to understand the relations of the brain to is in the visual area, where words coming the body. Disorders of speech, due to phys- through the eye in reading are registered; ical damage in the brain, show that words and by means of a third place, in the motor are there arranged somewhat like books on area, we utter words by the movements of library shelves. When a man, therefore, the muscles of the larynx, tongue, or lips. learns a new language, he has to provide a It was this center that was destroyed in the new shelf for its words. This is proved by case of the umbrella accident. the case, among many others like it, of a man who, besides his mother English, learned French, Latin, and Greek. He became POWER TO READ LOST IN A NIGHT word blind in English, but still could read How separate and distinct from this utter French, though with some mistakes, and ing center the brain place for reading is, wils Latin with fewer mistakes than French, illustrated by a lady patient of mine who was while Greek he could read perfectly-show- astonished one morning at finding that she ing that his English shelf was ruined, his could not read a word in anything, whether French shelf damaged, his Latin shelf less newspaper or book. She thought something so, while his Greek row escaped entirely. must be wrong with her eyes, but she saw Other instances show that the books may everything about the room as well as ever and be so jammed sidewise, so to speak, that not could sew and knit. I tested her speech one of them can be got out, in which case the carefully, and found that she could hear event proves that on each shelf the verbs are every word addressed to her and could talk placed first, the pronouns next, then the remarkably well. Her reading brain center, prepositions and adverbs, and the nouns last. however, had been destroyed in the night A man was brought to my clinic who could without her waking, by a plug in the little not utter a word. My diagnosis ascribed artery which supplies that place, and she his disability to a tumorlike swelling in the forthwith became as illiterate as a Papuan speech area, which might be absorbed by sayage, nor did she learn to read again, suc- giving him iodide of potassium. I then cumbing to apoplexy two years afterward. had him removed so that he could not Generally more than one speech center is hear what was said, while I told the class injured by an apoplectic hemorrhage in the that if he recovered he would very likely get 44 Everybody's Magazine his verbs first and his nouns last. When he college who did not discover until his sixth returned two weeks afterward, on my show- lecture that the brain which he had been ing him a knife he said, “You cut”; a pencil, demonstrating to the class was the brain of “You write," etc. Three weeks later he had an ape and not of a man. But the chief all his prepositions, but he could name no reason that science now has for hesitation is noun for several weeks afterward. The rea- the recent discoveries which show that the sons are that verbs are our innermost and brain is not the source of thought, but is first learned words, because we know that we purely the instrument of the thinker, just as see, we hear, etc., before we know what it is the violin is the instrument of the musician that we see or hear; while nouns represent who plays it, and by itself cannot give forth things outside of us, to which we later give a single note of violin music. names. The nouns that we learn last, and The first approach to this conclusion came therefore forget soonest, are the names of through the comparative weighing of various persons; that is why elderly people are ever brains. Some of the heaviest and largest complaining that they cannot recall names. healthy brains on record were found post mortem in paupers, who during life had only the minds of paupers, while an examination HOW MAN DIFFERS FROM THE APE of the brain of von Helmholtz, perhaps of all Now, facts like these are much more than our age in Europe the man most eminent for curious or interesting, because they really intellect, showed that it was a full tenth lead to the answer of the great question, What below the average weight of the adult male is man? Zoologically, the animal homo is European brain. Plainly, then, the mental closely allied to the other primates, as they capacity of an individual bears no necessary are called, the orang-outang, the gorilla, and relation to the amount of brain matter that the chimpanzee. He is thus allied in his he has in his head. body and all its organs, but particularly in But further and more decisive evidence on his brain, for Huxley demonstrated that the this point is the fact that, strictly speaking, human brain does not contain a single lobe all of us use in thinking only one half of the nor convolution that is not present also in brain we have. For the fact is that the the brain of a chimpanzee." brain is a pair organ consisting of two per- But mentally, not anatomically, man is as fectly matched hemispheres, but only one of far removed from the highest apes as is a them becomes a human brain, that is, a brain fixed star from the earth. No chimpanzee with the special mental endowments that are could be taught to pass an examination in human, while the other remains thoughtless Greek or English literature, nor to compute for life. Indeed, cases have been reported a comet's orbit, nor make a bank-note, nor by eminent neurologists who had made post- argue as a Free Trader or as a Calvinist mortem examinations, of persons who had But man can become anything, a scientist, lived for years after the destruction of one a scholar, a mathematician, an artist, a entire hemisphere, without showing any men- statesman, or what not. And above all, man tal defect. But in each case it was the is a true creator, by his own intelligent purpose thoughtless hemisphere that had been ruined. originating things that otherwise would not exist. That tremendous structure, the bridge over the Firth of Forth, for instance, existed ONE THOUGHTLESS BRAIN IN EVERY HEAD down to its smallest detail in the mind of Now, if brain matter were itself the source its engineer before any part of it existed on or producer of thought, then the more brain earth. Now, any one of these tests suffices matter we had, the more thought we should to prove that the difference is not one of de- have, just as two bushels of wheat will make gree, but of kind, and that man is an animal twice as much flour as one bushel. But not only physically. so as to brain and thought. As a man does Science is now estopped from all attempts not see twice as far with his two eyes as with to explain the incalculable superiority of one eye, so his pair of brains does not dou- man's mind by his having an exceptional ble him mentally, because either hemisphere brain. We have mentioned that Huxley (when taught) can do the whole business of showed that the difference between the human both, just as a man who has lost one eye can and the chimpanzee brain is too insignificant yet become an astronomer with the other. : to count, and I knew a teacher in a medical Now, it is of great importance in our dis- Brain and Body PREFROM AREA HEAD AND EYES SENSIBILITY CUTANEOUS MUSCULAR 1?) WORD SCR UTM SLIPS THR OTONS cussion to consider why it is that we use brain matter is like the wax leaves of a only one of our two brains to think with. phonograph. Suppose that you have two When we come into this world we have a phonographs with the leaves all ready. One pair of quite thoughtless brains and nothing has been prepared with an impress of sounds more. To become intelligent beings, we upon the wax; the other is blank. Now, must acquire a whole host of mental faculties should the talking phonograph be smashed and endowments, not one of which does a by an accident, the crank of the other might human being bring with him at birth. No be turned never so vigorously but not one one was ever born speaking English nor any word would come out of its brazen throat, other language. No newly born babe knows the reason being that this instrument never anything by sight nor by any other sense. imprints words nor anything else on its leaves Every kind of knowledge has to be gained by of its own accord. And so this man tried his personal education. But only recently have best to get his right Broca to talk, but as he we found that this education necessitates the had never taught his right hemisphere, he creation of a local anatomical change in brain could not now find a word there. Besides, matter to make it the special seat for that the difference between phonograph leaves and “accomplishment.” Thus, no one can be- brain layers is that the latter, as we shall see, come a skilled violin player until by long fash- need unwearied talking at by the month or ioning he has at last made a violin- playing place in his cerebrum. But all this brain fashioning takes so much time and trouble that for mere economy of labor, as one hemi- sphere will do all that is necessary, the individual spends his efforts on one of them only. As both hemi- spheres are equally good for this pur- pose, which of the two he will educate depends on which one he begins with. This is settled for him when as a child he begins all his training by the hand that he then most easily uses. Hence it is that all the speech centers and all the knowing and educated places are to be found only in the left hemisphere of the right-handed, year before words can be imprinted on them and in the right hemisphere of the left so that they will stay. handed. It is by gesture that the child first T he accompanying plate is given to repre- tries to communicate with others, and gesture sent the left cerebral hemisphere of a right- language remains an important accompani- handed man, and the first things to note are ment of speech throughout life. Now it hap- the locations of the brain places whose func- pens that the motor centers in the brain that tions are congenital, that is, those that are move the hand are in proximity to the centers born with the individual. Such centers are that move the muscles of the face, lips, and found equally in both hemispheres. Take, tongue, and so movements of lips and tongue for example, the function of sight. The eye soon are added to gestures to utter sounds that itself no more sees than an opera-glass sees. the human child learns as words. Speech Instead, the image formed on the retina is centers once formed, thought centers have to conveyed along the fibers of the optic nerves follow, and lastly knowing centers. to those two convolutions in the posterior Now consider again the case of the man lobes of both hemispheres marked cuneus; whose speech-uttering center was destroyed and it is in those two collections of gray matter by the tip of an umbrella. This brain place that all seeing is done; when this convolution was his left Broca's convolution. But since is destroyed in both hemispheres, total blind- he had a Broca's convolution in his right ness results, though the two eyes and all their hemisphere, and neither the umbrella nor nervous connections be intact. Likewise in anything else had injured that, why could the auditory area is the center for hearing, he not talk with it? The explanation is that destruction of which in both hemispheres WORD CUNEWS AUDITORY AREA TEARING OBJECT SEEING OULUT EARINO VISUAL AREAN MUSIC HEARING 46 Everybody's Magazine causes deafness, though everything connected other place in the auditory area has the with both ears is uninjured. The brain cen- wider duty to perform of recognizing what ters for smell, taste, and touch lie under different sounds mean. Let that be dam- neath and on the inner face of the hemisphere, aged, and all sounds become alike noises and so that they do not appear on the plate. nothing more to the man, so that he cannot One region, however, on the surface in front distinguish the sound of a dinner-bell from of the visual area is a meeting-ground of that of a lowing cow. Just the same with various kinds of common sensation. Then the sight center; in the visual area the con- comes a very important tract constituting a volution called the angular gyrus knows what zone lying near the middle of the cortical letters and words mean when it sees them, surface, whose function is motor, that is, its and, therefore, it alone can read; and the centers govern and direct those muscular place near the cuneus knows objects in gen- movements of the body that are in response eral by sight; when it is damaged no per- to commands of the will. The nerve fibers son can be recognized by sight, nor can that proceeding from these brain centers cross ignorance of what the eyes report be in the over in their course to the opposite side, so least helped by the same convolution in the that it is the left hemisphere motor centers other hemisphere, though it be uninjured. that govern the muscles of the right, and the Why, therefore, do we have two brains right hemisphere centers that govern those when the mind needs only one? This ques- of the left side of the body. tion might be asked about any of our pair organs. I know a man who lived a long WHY WE HAVE AN EXTRA BRAIN time without once suspecting that he had only one kidney that would work, the other I have gone into this description of the kidney having been destroyed thirteen years congenital functions of both the brain hemi- before by a stone plugging its outlet tube. spheres, because I am often asked, if one Likewise an eminent financier lived for forty hemisphere is not used for thought, then of of his years with virtually but one lung doing what use is it? It is of every use in the business. So we have an extra brain which, working of the bodily machine, as far as if the individual is yet young, and his brain feeling or motion is concerned. Paralysis matter therefore still teachable, will learn and numbness, or loss of sensation, of the everything after its fellow which was first left side of the body are serious misfortunes taught has been irreparably damaged. Thus, to a right-handed man, though he still can cases have often been reported of children talk and think as well as ever. who suffered paralysis with destruction of Now we come to what, without any mis- the speech centers, but who in a year had take, we find in an adult's brain-the marvel- taught the speech centers in the other brain ous additions of brain places which can do to talk as well as those first educated. so much more than the congenital centers could. Around each of the congenital cen- ters, but in only one of the two hemispheres, AMBIDEXTERITY? are wholly new centers, each with its own knowing specialty. A remarkable group of I have received numerous letters, among those, for example, is found around the them three from college professors of psy- original center for hearing. One of these- chology, asking why these facts, which we and a divine center it is—knows what music have been reviewing, do not constitute an is when it hears it, and this center may all of argument for teaching children ambidexterity, a sudden be put out of commission. Thus so that they will use both their brains instead Lichtheim reports the case of a teacher and of only one. These questions seem to imply journalist who after a second stroke of apo- that it would be a great gain mentally if we plexy heard plainly enough when any one thought with both hemispheres. We might sang or whistled, but he did not recognize as well expect that our visual power would the melodies and he was particularly annoyed be increased by using both eyes, or our hear- at concert - singing by his children, because ing by always listening with both ears. The it was "so noisy.” Another center is for implication of such questions seems to be hearing words and, as we have seen, a man that the more brain matter is exercised, the may waken some morning and find that he more ideas we shall have. But since brain has become word deaf overnight. But an- matter does not itself originate a single idea, SHALL WE TEACH CHILDREN · Brain and Body 47 nature had better not be meddled with. I made to acquire a mental faculty according know of a left-handed girl who had that hand to the purpose of this unmistakable creator. tied to make her right-handed. The result There is no word about which the fogs was that her speech centers seemed to become of metaphysics have gathered so thickly as confused in their education, so that she did about this word “Will.” It is these misty not speak as plainly at six years of age as did conceptions that make it difficult for many an elder sister, no brighter mentally, when minds to accept the facts which prove that eighteen months old. Ambidexterity is doubt a purely spiritual agency such as they imag- less a convenience, especially at a billiard- ine the will to be, could cause any definite table, but it confers no intellectual advantage. material effects. A perfectly material thing, like a brain speech center, which can be de- stroyed by a pointed stick, must somehow, HOW WE MAKE NEW BRAIN CENTERS they think, be made by the brain itself, though Finally, the important question remains, if how any other part of the brain can make a the human individual starts just like the chim- mechanism for words, without itself giving a panzee, with those congenital brain equip- sign of having a word in it, is hard to un- ments, both sensory and motor, that have derstand. been described above, and then creates those But there are definite proofs that the will is a different places in one hemisphere that are specific and positive stimulus to nervous mat- endowed with such transcendent mental fac- ter, which are made plain when we learn ulties, how does he do it? This perform- what a specific nerve stimulus is. A ray of ance is best illustrated by the example of a light, for instance, is a specific stimulus to the young man, not a child, concluding to learn nerve cells of the retina, because no other to speak and to read a language new to him. nerve cells or fibers, except those mentioned, In the first place, he must do it all himself. are affected by it. Now we can show that No foreigner can learn German by proxy; the will is a definite thing by just the same nor can he do so by any purely mental proc- proofs which demonstrate that the actinic ray esses, such as by imagining, or thinking, or in a sunbeam is a definite thing, namely, by reasoning. Instead, he must hammer away its effects. Though we cannot see either the at the task, until after months upon months actinic ray nor the will, both these agents of continuous repetition the new words be- produce three specific kinds of effects, phys- come imprinted upon a new cell layer in his ical, chemical, and physiological. speech area, so that they will stay there and be of use when he wants them. But the task NERVE MATTER TURNED TO FAT BY WILL is grievous and calls for a great amount not of mental, but of will power. First, as to the actinic ray. To experiment So irksome is this will-making of brain with it, we must first isolate it from the other centers that many give the undertaking up rays in a sunbeam. This we can readily do before the desired object is half attained, by means of a glass prism, which gives us a leaving the unfinished brain center as useless long spectrum of bands of red below and the for its own purpose as a wagon left unfinished other colors in their order, till they end in a because its wheels proved more troublesome violet band above. Now, take a glass vial to make than all the rest of it. No excellence filled with a mixture of chlorine and of hy- without labor, we now perceive, means no ex- drogen gases; you may pass the vial up from celling brain without labor, though of course one color band to another, and nothing will there are differences in the fineness of brains happen until just above the violet the vial as instruments, just as there are differences will explode, with the physical result of shat- in violins. tering the glass. The chemical working of this invisible ray is seen in photography; Rutherford by the actinic ray took fine photo- ? THE WILL A DEFINITE THING graphs of the moon in the dark. The physi- We are now face to face with the great Ex- ological effects were shown by an experiment ecutive in man, which is not the mind, but a of Lubbock's with ants. He constructed a power higher in rank than the mind, namely, series of little chambers, with glass roofs the Personal Human Will. Like clay in the through which the prism-separated colored hands of the potter, so is brain matter fash- bands of light were made to fall on the ants. ioned by the Will, bit by bit, each small area They seemed indifferent until the actinic 48 Everybody's Magazine ray was turned on them, when they im- office is to restrain and to check the workings mediately bolted into the other chambers. of other nervous structures or functions. Now the will can produce the physical Thus the heart is kept in check by an im- effects of wasting a muscle to shreds, but i portant nerve; if this is cut, the heart bounds must be what is called a voluntary, or will- off to most tumultuous beating, like a horse worked, muscle. Such muscles are those that has thrown its rider. Physiologists, that are attached by one or by both ends to a therefore, call this nerve the heart's bridle. bone or to a cartilage. All such muscles are Likewise, it is the business of all the higher worked by one or more motor nerves, and if nerve-centers to control and to regulate those these nerves are cut, forthwith the muscle is below them in rank. The powerful centers paralyzed and rapidly atrophies. But both in the spinal cord would rack us to pieces the motor nerve and the muscle may be but for their being checked by the brain ruined by the will's simply overstimulating above, and they actually do so when the them. Now the only difference between the poisons of strychnia or of tetanus overcome will stimulus and other nerve stimuli is that the restraint of the brain. the latter come from outside the brain, as a ray of light may come from Arcturus or WHY MEN FAIL Sirius, while a will stimulus comes only from inside; and yet it is so specific that it may be But nowhere is restraint and direction so focused on only the small spot in the brain- needful as when the mind is thinking. motor region which orders the right thumb Thoughts pour into the mind from every and forefinger to hold a pen. If the will direction, and the faster the weaker we hap- does not let up on this order enough to allow pen to be. Let a man be prostrated by the nerve and muscles to rest from its stim- a fever and he finds it hard to keep his ulation, we then have a case of writer's or thoughts from running to the ends of the bookkeeper's palsy, in which the thumb and earth, until he may actually “wander" in forefinger hang limp and permanently par- delirium. In ordinary life desultory thoughts alyzed. These effects are the same as those are not only of no use, but may be as inju- produced by other nerve stimuli. rious as they are worthless. When, as in The first effect of such stimulation is to worry, they are of a disturbing nature, they cause the nerve cell to swell by absorption may jar the mental machine till it wears out of lymph, but as it becomes fatigued the by its own friction. The paramount need, cell shrinks, its nucleus becomes displaced, therefore, is for some great steadying gover- and at last the whole cell becomes disorgan- nor, as that part of a steam-engine is well ized into dead stuff. The chemical results named; or, in other words, we need a will of this degeneration have been studied and too strong to be diverted by any thoughts reported to be a change from the normal from its purpose. Anyone who thinks, protagon with its phosphoreted fat into cho speaks, and acts only according to purpose, line and a neutral and non-phosphoreted fat. is a giant among scatterbrains, because it is So, in the case of writer's “palsy,” the will the will only that achieves. We are ever has ended its activity by turning precious meeting men with brilliant mental gifts who nerve matter into poor neutral fat, this fat are sad failures merely because they lack. being no more a thing of metaphysics than tenacity of purpose, which means lack of will- is a tallow candle. power. To exert influence over his fellows, a man must have a constant inner power of self-control, while he who goes about “half- THE MIND'S BRIDLE cocked” shoots and brings down himself But the will does much more than bring oftener than any one else. about such changes; for its right is to rule the As the best statement of what one really mind in its thinking, just as the mind in turn amounts to, and also of what one most needs rules the body; in other words, the will should in this risky world, we would quote from that not only direct but control thought. This is old Hebrew collection, the Book of Proverbs: but in keeping with the great law of organi- “As a man thinketh, so is he," and "He zation of a nervous system, where we con- who hath no rule over his own spirit is like stantly meet with structures whose particular a city that is broken down and without walls." Copyrighi, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation, THE MAIN AUDITORIUM AND EDUCATIONAL BUILDING. Three Hundred Years Ago By EUGENE WOOD Author of " Back Home" Illustrated with Photographs made especially for “Everybody's Magazine" by Clarence H. White THREE hundred years ago to- some guess as to what became of day (provided you pay me her and the others. At about the the appreciated compliment of same time as the settlement at reading this article the first chance Jamestown, another colony land- you get) the ships that brought ed at the mouth of the Kennebec them over sailed for home, and the River in Maine. Finding no gold hundred and five original James- and silver (oddly enough) but re- town settlers watched them swim, markably hard sledding, they took like swans with outspread wings, the next boat home, where they beyond their vision, and then—with what proclaimed it loudly that the situation in heart-throbs who can tell?—turned to the grim Maine was practical prohibition. The James- realization that they were in for it. town settlers experienced a frost, too, for the This was the third try the Englishry had latitude had fooled them into supposing they made for footing in North America. Of were in the semi-tropics, a belief they laid aside Raleigh's attempt nothing remains but the after the winter of 1607-8—a record-breaker euphonious name—Virginia Dare—of the first for low temperatures and high winds, which white child born in this country, and the grue- went a-whooping through their pole shanties. 49 Everybody's Magazine The topic of hard, tight frosts naturally got tired of squabbling as to whether a brings up that of expositions in general. The grandson's nephew was more entitled to the question is sometimes asked: Why celebrate throne than a second cousin's husband's half- the recollection of a great event, like the settle brother, and had newly lighted on the dis- ment of Jamestown, with raised hotel-rates covery that it was possible to get more out of and lowered accommodations; with stuffing the magician's bag of Industry than had been prospectors' pockets full of price-lists and ad put into it. They wanted a hack at the Orien- vertising circulars; with roller-coasters and tal trade. The confounded Turks had shut flying-horses, popcorn balls and hot frank- off the overland route to the Orient; the Por- fürters; with sideshow barkers and their tuguese had a quit-claim deed, signed, sealed, staccato raps of canes on door-posts, their and delivered, to the route around South cheerful cries of: “Right this way, good peo- Africa, and the Spaniards had another deed ple all! Loosen up, loosen up. Aw, spend to all the rest of the world. There was a a nickel, can't youse?” Why, it is inquired, straightaway passage to the Indies and Ci- join history to huckstering, Clio to Coney pango beyond a doubt, if only somebody Island? would stir around and find it. Why, land The answer is not simple, but it is very easy: of love! Look at the map. All you had to We can't think of any other way to do. do was to sail and sail and get there. So the When I say “we,” I mean the folks who hundred and five set forth. run things for us. Were they preachers, ex- Now, it must not be thought that these ex- positions would be one string of sermons all peditioners were a bit like the bold brave fel- through the pleasant weather, from frost to lows who swarmed over the mountains into the frost; lawyers, a series of discourses on the Dark and Bloody Ground, and thence on to applicability of the laws of James the First to Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. Nor were they trolley-road franchises; baseball cranks, a like those others, just as bold and brave, who series of games with a crossed the Great score of 2 to 2 in the American Desert after first half of the ninth '49. These last were inning; musicians, a gold - seekers, like the succession of chords of Jamestown bunch, it the diminished second, is true, but they were à la Richard Strauss- more than that; they and so on and so on. were home-seekers, and You can imagine the home - builders, utterly expositions devised by shameless in the matter each occupation and of manual labor, and caste. But they who not at all concerned run things for us are with social status. I'll men of affairs, whose have you know the formula of life is: Jamestown settlers M CM+m. That were no such common is to say, their cycle of trash. Indeed no! They activity is, putting out were men who thought Money for Commodi- some pumpkins of ties with the intent to LOOKING INTO THE GARDEN themselves, to whom it OF THE OHIO BUILDING. put out those Com- was the cruelest of mis- modities for the orig- fortunes to be obliged inal Money plus more for the welfare of the money (m.). And so on interminably. Since enterprise to associate with dreadful bound- such as these bear the scepter of sovereignty, ers, “whose company in England they would what other process of celebrating the old folks' think scorn to have their servants of." golden wedding is conceivable than auctioning They had sooner die than work; they didn't off the bar-privileges ? On festival occasions know how to hunt; the rules of the Corpora- everything and everybody should be trimmed, tion forbade their planting, though Captain if possible. John Smith seems to have overridden the About the time the Jamestown Expedition prohibition. They were expected to main- started out, the home folks in England had tain themselves and pile up dividends by Copyright, 1007, by the Jamestown Official Pho- tograph Corporation. Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation. THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE BUILDING (INDEPENDENCE HALL). force and barter; by force against an over- -Scotch tribal organization being exactly like whelming number of savages far superior to Indian tribal organization, or Roman or Greek themselves in war-craft and strategy, inferior or Australian or Hawaiian or that of any only in arms and armor; by barter with a people at a corresponding period of savagery. people who had no need of trade, and hadn't After the old gentleman died, they learned anything to swap except provisions, grown that his name was Wahunsunakok. And and prepared by their only servile class, the Matoaca was the name of her we know as women, the men folks among the Indians Pocahontas, a pleasant nickname that means being something in the gentry line themselves. "little wanton," or as we should most likely Only, there were no grades among them, one say; "skeezicks." What you were called male Indian being as much entitled to loaf as was one thing, your name another, which it any other, and old Powhatan himself holding was a foolish thing for you to tell. Somebody his job only so long as he gave satisfaction. might set to work at "mental malpractise,” And by the way, that wasn't his name but his and you'd take sick and die. After the poor tribe's, just as Rob Roy was the MacGregor girl blabbed her name and pined away, the 51 Everybody's Magazine zine e try to tell you the story of the original James- town settlers. It's too mixed up, too long, and I don't think it's very pretty. There is a whole lot nicer read- ing to be had than narrations of how they rowed and jowered among themselves, how they tried to kill Captain John Smith, the only man that kept them going, the only man equal to the sit- uation. This Smith had annoying ways of bringing back his ex- ploring parties fat and Copyright, 1907. by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation. hearty and happy, THE OHIO STATE BUILDING. while those who stayed in Jamestown and conducted the daily trials for treason and conspiracy were thin Indians who heard the news pursed up their and quarrelsome about who hid the two lips and nodded: “A-ha! What'd I tell you? bottles of “sallet oyle,” where, and by what Never knew it to fail.” right. He was smart enough to save his scalp Oh, yes, they had their troubles, these and theirs from the Powhatans—yes, that's settlers. Listen to this: They were in the all well enough, but don't you see? by his country of the Paspeheghs, who never did demagogy he got a crowd with him that quite take to them. Every once in a while some settler, thinking about something else, would holler “Ouch!” and fall over with a clat- ter. When the others ran up to see what ailed him they would find an arrow sticking in him. Stung again! So an- noying. Really, some one ought to write to The Times about it. And finally, old Pow- hatan (accent on the "tan”) sent word to them: “For pity's sakes, mow down the tall weeds around your fort!” He must have Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official l'hotograpii Corporation. thought they didn't have the gumption they OLD CHURCH TOWER ON JAMESTOWN ISLAND. were born with. But I'm not going to Three Hundred Years Ago 53 thought he was all right, and so prevented him piece of agricultural machinery whose rich from being hanged, although he was thirteen red rust imparted just the touch of color weeks under indictment. And so on. But needed by the gray and dripping day. we'll let it go at this. Furthermore, Jamestown isn't very gay. Its tendency is to make a person think, and everybody wants to avoid that if he can. There is a lesson in these scanty ruins, and THE Jamestown Exposition is not on the everybody "cuts” lessons at the earliest op- original site. Hotel accommodations on the portunity. The church tower, surrounded Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation, VIRGINIA BUILDING. MARYLAND BUILDING. island (it is an island now) are quite in- by a high wire fence and flower beds, has been adequate. The secular structures there are neatly plastered with cement, and a new brick a two-story frame cottage for the man in church is being built upon as much of the charge, and an extra large-sized packing-box ancient foundations as the architect, in his provided with a door and a window, where, in zeal, has not had torn down and cast upon the his capacity of postmaster, the man in charge dump. This is no structure known to the puts in a good part of the day scratching out early colonists. What they built was but the *Jamestown” and writing in “Norfolk” on flimsiest shelter of green lumber, long ago the letters addressed: “Jamestown Exposi- dissolved into the earth from which it sprang. tion, Jamestown, Virginia.” By what is The tombs about are also of later date, for the known as “comity,” the postmaster at Nor- original implantations died much faster than folk forwards him all such letters to help him tombstones could be got, only thirty-eight out pass away the time. of the original 105 outlasting the first eight And I don't think an exposition crowd months. In nineteen years, out of 7,289 the could get board and room in the neighborhood. mortality was 6,040. Three thieves under Riding out from Williamsburg, the nearest sentence of death in London in 1616 had their town, eight miles away, I counted five houses, choice of hanging or going to Virginia; one of exclusive of the barn situated alongside a them preferred being choked to death. 54 Everybody's Magazine MACHINERY Some earnest-minded persons scold and ness, and fight for markets, not for the royal fume because the Tercentennial is less an succession. Barter employs Force to run its exhibition of how skilled we are in bringing errands and carry in the coal. Three hundred forth with the least possible trouble things years ago to-day Barter was just getting the to eat and wear and make us comfortable upper hand. I guess we pretty nearly all can mentally and physically, than of new and im- make a guess as to who'll have the upper proved devices for blowing men into Hamburg hand three hundred years from to-day. steaks and splattering them over the land So I should say it would be all right to have scape, or for sinking ships so suddenly that war-ships thicker than leaves on a tree out on stokers and coal-passers cannot hope to have a that patch of water that looks like any other chance to swim for it. I won't go so far as to water but really ought to have a Maltese cross apply to such the offensive epithet of “molly- on it, as in the newspaper illustrations, mark- coddles." It isn't my word anyhow. But I ing the spot where the Monitor and the Merri- will say this: There's such a thing as enough mac banged away at each other all one Sunday of militarism, isn't there? Well, how are morning, demonstrating that you can make armor so that a can- non-ball won't pierce it, thus necessitating a kind of cannon - ball that can pierce any armor, thus necessitat- ing a still better armor, thus necessitating a still better cannon- ball, thus-oh, what's the use? You know. As a result of the Mer- rimac - Monitor affair the war-ships of to-day are all hard-shelled so that no projectile can hurt them, and all are able to throw projec- tiles that can go through anything. Great sight a war-ship is for anybody that likes to look at machinery. The whole inside of one is so chock-a-block with rig-a-ma-jigs that you have to go up on the gun-deck to sneeze. There isn't room for Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation. that between decks, AN ENTRANCE TO THE MACHINERY BUILDING. and, besides, you might throw some of the mechanism out of kil- ter. Nothing can be you going to find out when you've had enough more interesting than a fleet thus lying of anything unless you first find out when at anchor. When a new ship comes in, or you've had too much? Be reasonable. the governor arrives, or the President or There's no occasion for alarm, no reason to some other personage under whose feet the suppose Feudalism once licked by the Bour- earth-crust sags a little, he's so important, geoisie is ever going to come into power again. they fire salutes. Something grand! Sounds All these dukes and counts, all these generals like kicking on the door of an empty room, and admirals are only the hired men of Busi- only more so. You get kind of tired of it, Three Hundred Years Ago though, in the course of an hour or two. red flabby cheeks that everybody's there or And then it's wonderful to see the admirals otherwise accounted for, and the serious and captains and commanders and all such, business of war begins, holding guns this diked out in hats with feathers in them like a way and that way and t'other way. The lady's, go calling on each other. The bo’s'n's command I like the best is that one where he whistle squeals and pipes to sides, the ship's says: “Ordarrr . . . Hump!” and all the company lines up, and the marines (who are rifle-butts hit the turf together in just one soldiers engaged to shoot the sailors if they go thump. I like that because it shows you how on strike) present arms, and the drums ruffle, and why we conquer. Thus are battles won. or, if there is a band, it strikes up: “Hail And there's an antiquarian interest in to the Chief who in tri-i-umph ad—” when these drills too. If Captain John Smith were the caller puts up his hand as much as to say: to rise out of his lost grave in old St. Sepul- “Oh, for the Lord's sake, stop! I've heard chre's in London, he would be right at home. that till I'm sick of it.” It's a grand spectacle. With the exception that the soldiers carry rifles But perhaps you'd like to see the soldiers on instead of pikes and halbërds, and the officers the parade-ground. It is a beautiful piece of turf as even as a bil- liard-table, just for all the world like a battle- field. And the man with the white mus- tache and the red flab- by cheeks has 'em walk this direction a way, and then he has 'em walk that direction; he strings 'em out in a line and he bunches 'em up. And how beautifully they do it! Why, the Uniform Rank K. of P. at home is nothing to them. Nothing at all! See how stiff their necks are, and how their chests look as if they were blown up with a quill; how evenly they step together, and how their alinement is that of a typewriting ma- chine just back from Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation, the repair shop! And LOOKING TOWARD THE EDUCATIONAL BUILDING, the colors proudly LIBERAL ARTS BUILDING IN FOREGROUND. waving in the sun, ac- couterments winking and twinkling, uni- forms so neat and clean and gay! That's omit one or two commands, it's the same old the way to do. Be fair to the enemy. drill; he could do it as well as the fellow with Give him a chance to spot you on the land- the white mustache. scape. But best of all is when the man III with a sword, who cannot possibly walk in other than straight lines nor turn corners of ABOUT the most discouraging proposition, more or less than ninety degrees, informs it seems to me, is for a man named John the man with the white mustache and the Smith to win an everlasting fame. There's 56 Everybody's Magazine such a lot of Smiths, and so many of them are christened John. That a hero should have some sort of honorific title is perhaps inevita- ble, but when you consider how cluttered up the records are with kings tabbed off by Ro- four seas he labored, no hand is outstretched to receive sixpence for showing Captain John Smith's grave. And if there were sixpence in it, you can bet they'd find that grave. It was he who caused that section of the JE Copyright, 1907, by the Jamestown Official Photograph Corporation. LOOKING ALONG COMMONWEALTH AVENUE, STATES EXHIBIT IN BACKGROUND. man numerals, and popes likewise; with dukes country where the dried codfish sheds its and earls and marquises and lords and counts subtle fragrance on the air to be called New and viscounts, barons and baronets; with gen- England. What we now call Cape Ann he erals and near-generals; admirals, rear and named Cape Tragabigzanda, after the young fore; bishops, arch and plane; judges, presi- woman who softened his lot for him when dents, and governors, and all the hierarchy of he was taken prisoner by the Turks. The big-bugs that swell up in huffiness if you islands near he called The Turks' Heads, omit to tip your hat to them or to send them in memory of his exploits when in single com- free tickets to the best seats, it is as much as bats on successive days before the walls of ever democracy can expect that he, who is Regall, he slew three champions who came among the most admired of all historic per- out to meet this stripling of one-and-twenty. sonages, should be just Captain John Smith. One of them is now Thatcher's Island, the I have a hammer right where I can put my rest are nameless. Only a Smith's Island at hand on it for most of these historic person- the mouth of Chesapeake Bay preserves the ages, people for whose funerals the band commonplace cognomen of the brave young turned out and all the stores in town closed up, fellow who, just three hundred years ago to- but it kind o' looks to me as if Captain John day, took up the task of saving from their Smith was considerable of a man. Oftentimes own darn foolishness the most cantankerous a man's memorial outlasts the memory of him. lot of quarrelsome incompetents that ever But in the land for whose extension beyond the landed on these shores. Which is as strong Three Hundred Years Ago 57 a statement as I dare make. And at this were, who prized you for your worth. The exposition to celebrate the wonderful event heart swells to read them now as his must there isn't enough of Captain John Smith have swelled who penned these lines: mentioned to be an annoyance to anybody. “What shall I say then? but thus we lost Captain John, they've been right stingy him that in all his proceedings made justice with you in the matter of tangible fixings on his first guide, experience his second; ever the order of when-this-you-see-remember-me. hating baseness, sloth, pride, and indignity But don't you care; don't let that worry you more than any dangers; that never allowed a little bit. In the minds of all who've gone more for himself than for his soldiers with to school long enough to get the first ten him; that upon no dangers would send them pages of American history, you have builded where he would not lead them himself; that you a monument than brass more lasting. would never see us want what he either had or For near on to 300 years adventurous youth could by any means get us; that would rather has reveled in the story of the tight places want than borrow, or starve than not pay; you have got into and got out of; has hol that loved actions more than words, and lered “Whoo-ee!” when you poked your hated falsehood and cozenage worse than trusty falchion plumb through Bonny Mul- death; whose adventures were our lives and gro right after he hit you that awful clout whose loss our deaths.” with his battle-ax; has understood just how Gentle reader, there is no “advt it pd” it was the Princess Trag-etc., fell dead in under this tribute; it is no “marked copy” of love with you (what woman wouldn't that a press notice; it is no excerpt from “Captains had half sense? You run mostly to whiskers of Industry.” It is taken from the chronicle in your picture, but that was taken fifteen of Potts and Phettiplace, who knew how years after); has gritted its teeth to read how John Smith could administer, and who lived mean your Tartar master was to you, and has through The Great Starving Time, the result exulted when you killed him and ran away; of the administration of “the better classes." felt ashamed and un- Read it over again. easy about the way the Note that each phrase Jimtown crowd be- is a specific dig at a haved, but chuckled particular manifesta- when you came it over tion of the selfishness of old Powhatan with the those who thought then mysterious compass (and think now) that whose needle pointed society exists for them ever to the north; has and not for society. rejoiced when little In this Fourth of July Pocahontas threw her season, I'm kind o' arms about you and bothered in my mind. told her papa he just I'm inclined to admire mustn't mash your head Captain John Smith in with a club - ah, and his principles, but Captain John Smith, all the men of un- what finer monument doubted probity and would you have? As Copyright, 1007, by the Jamestown Official Pho- integrity, all the practi- for remembrancers, cal men, all the big- calcareous and vitre- bugs who are running ous, they shall perish things, are running but thou shalt endure. them just exactly cross- That epitaph they wise of Captain John gave you in St. Sepulchre's—all Smith's method. I don't know. I gone now, church, monument, don't know whether their fame and all—is pretty fair. It was will last as long as his or not. well meant. But we've got so we Sometimes I think not. don't take much stock in epi- What do you think? Of which taphs. Better far the words of can we say most surely: “They those who knew you well in trying shall perish, but thou shalt en- times, who loved you for what you dure"? tograph Corporation. JAMESTOWN ISLAND. MES. TRANK OAKLEY ("Slivers "'). Tlie premier clown. DALLIE JULIAN, THE MEERS SISTERS, AND CARRIE ROONEY, " Dainty, daring, dextrous equestriennes." LOTTIE CHAMBERLAIN. A noted aerialist. The Aristocracy of the Circus By HARTLEY DAVIS With photographs made especially for “Everybody's Magazine" by Heyworth Campbell THE question was about a certain per- every member of my family has been a circus I former's antecedents. Frank Melville, performer. Practically all the best performers now equestrian director of the New York before the public all over the world have come Hippodrome after forty-six years in the saw- from about twenty different families.” dust ring, curled his lip under the little gray T hese twenty great circus families make up upturned mustache, and shook his head. an aristocracy as completely recognized, as “They have been in the business only closely hedged by tradition, as carefully safe- seventy-five years," he said, "so you can guarded in its own world as that of any mon- hardly call them more than interlopers.” archy. No member of a royal clan has great- "And how long must a family be in the er pride in his ancestry, in the achievements business to be one of you?” I asked him. of his forbears than the circus folk. Their “Oh, a hundred and fifty years or so. Some annals are not to be found in books; they are of us are a good deal older than that. For handed down from one generation to another, instance, I am of the fifth generation of per- plus a little artistic embellishment born of formers. We go back more than one hun- great admiration, and thus are kept alive in dred and fifty years, and during all that time the tenacious memories of those who read 58 The Aristocracy of the Circus 59 little and write scarcely at all. Not always are all the members of a so-called “fam- ily" blood kin, but the exceptions are children who were apprenticed or adopted when very young, usually at the age of six, whose training was the same as that of the sons and daughters, and who hold the family traditions in as high regard. And in the end, the tie is usually made people who are the world's nomads — living in tents a great part of the year, wandering over the face of the earth, in South America, South Africa, India, Aus- tralia, Mexico. A people freed from the conventions that rule our familiar life, who are re- quired by the public only to startle and entertain, and yet who hold high and sacred the family idea and all that goes " HOME IS WHERE THE TRUNK IS." A GROUP OF STAR PERFORMERS The woman is Isabelle Butler, who does the Dip of Death. READY FOR THE GRAND ENTRÉE. The man in the middle is the famous clown "Slivers." stronger by marriage with some blood member of the family. Here is presented the ex- traordinary spectacle of a with it; and of whose real life the public knows very little. A social philosopher will tell you that the family is the very foundation of our trad THE WHIRLING DERVISH IN REPOSE. THE WHIRLING DERVISH IN REPOSE. A CLOWN ACT THAT "GOES GREAT." The Kennards and “Slivers " bringing down the "elk." civilization, that society has thrown be bound by the ties of nationality; about it greater safeguards in the form they know nothing of the beneficent of laws, statutory and conventional, influence of a fixed habitation; the than about any other institution. The tights they wear when performing are home, the conventions of clothes, the but a single step from actual nudity, separation of and in per- the sexes forming most under certain feats the sexes conditions, are in close the warfare proximity. against di- Yet, with- vorce-all out the arti- these and ficial safe- more has so- guards that a ciety come to conventional look upon as society has or- essential to dained, circus the preserva- performers tion of the are, as a class, family. the most mor- Now, by the al folk on the very necessi- face of the ties of their earth. Frank existence the Melville ex- circus folk are pressed the cut off from all fact in this these things. "SO THAT YOU CAN GET A GOOD PICTURE OF BOTH OF US." way: They cannot Josie DeMott, "the only somersault equestrienne in the world." **For two 60 The Aristocracy of the Circus 61 hundred years there has not been a domestic scandal nor a divorce among us when both husband and wife were from recognized circus families. In every case where there has been a scandal, either- one or the other has been an outsider.” In this morality you have the full flowering of the family idea, so strong among these people. They are proud of their record; and it is not strange that, with so strong a regard for family ties, they succeed in investing their active life with a home atmosphere, independent of environment. In this country the circus families are fast dying out. The reasons are many. Primarily, circus parents, in- stead of bringing up their children to become performers, encourage them to adopt some other calling, because the opportunities for success are greater in business or the professions, and the danger is less. For in most of the acts a circus performer is constantly risk- ing life and limb. Moreover, salaries are not commensurate with the long years of preparation, the hard work, SUNDAY FOR BOTH OF THEM. Ella Bradna and her favorite mount. and the brevity of a performer's active life. It is impossible to make a really good performer unless training is be- gun very young, say at six. Of course a hereditary aptitude helps, but it is early training that counts most. A performer will not take a child to train unless he can be sure of the services of the youngster for a certain number of years after he becomes proficient. Under the laws in most states a boy cannot be apprenticed until he is six- teen, and he is free in a few years. Thus his training begins ten years too late, and even if he could be made valu- able he might leave his master when his services became sufficient to pay for his training and support. Further- more, the big circuses, with more than one ring, do not tend to develop really finished performers, since no act has the undivided attention of the specta- tors. All these influences are divert- ing circus people from their hereditary employment. So we go to Europe for the big acts. JENNIE WERTZ AND HER CHARIOT TEAM. H OLD JAPAN IN THE PAGEANT OF THE NATIONS. The Geisha girls are the bareback riders, Dallie Julian, Carrie Rooney, and one of the Meers Sisters, There, a child may be apprenticed at six; and there is still a high standard for the fine points, since they have but one ring. Also, and this is highly important, the rule is to give only one afternoon performance a week, thus allowing the performers the whole day for practise. A real circus performer, trained in one of the old families by one of the masters (for so the great virtuosos of the circus ring are called, with the respect and reverence that is given to great teachers of music or painting), can do any- thing that is familiar in a circus. Thus, he can do acrobatic work on the ground, ride bareback, or perform in the air; but he has distinction in one feat, which constitutes his principal act. The real performers have a pro- found contempt for “specialists" who can do but one thing. The circus folk are frugal and saving. When their active life in the ring ends, the men often secure executive positions with a circus, or as managers of troupes, which they train and to which they give their names. An instance is “Ted” Leamey, an old- timer, who has invented many novelties, like that of four girls working on trapezes attached to a great circle that revolves. He gets $400 a week for the act and pays the four girls who perform $25 a week each. There are few performers who do not save a competency; but one finds them living in small towns, and usual- ly with an occupation, for the habit of industry is strong upon them. ELLA BRADNA, A DARING RIDER. 62 The Aristocracy of the Circus Consider some of the per- formers now before the public and see how they hark back to the old families. With the Bar- num & Bailey show are the Sie- grists, now combined with the Silbons, who go back so many years that they are credited with being the first family to work on a trapeze. The Siegrists have furnished hundreds of dancers, riders, acrobats, and what not, but always they have held their supremacy in the air. The Meers sisters, bareback riders, have a name that has been familiar to two or three generations, yet they in turn come from the Oshanskis, one of the most famous families abroad. And these are related to the Bonairs, who are to-day recognized as the greatest of acro- bats and who were lately seen at the New York Hippodrome. Josie DeMott, the somersault rider, with the Barnum & Bailey show, has similar distinguished connections, for the DeMotts have long been well known as performers. Her sister, also a rider, is mar- SOME OF THE CIRCUS FAMILY OFF DUTY. HIS ACT ried to young “Bob” Stick- ney, son of the great "Bob" Stickney, who is now equestrian director of the Ringling circus, and whose REHEARSING family has been in the circus for six generations. Robert Stick- ney, Sr., was the greatest athlete of his time. Six feet tall, weigh- ing 170 pounds, he had a per- fectly formed body. Not only was he a master of bareback riding, but he could turn a somersault over twenty-one horses. The Florenz family is one of the oldest acrobatic troupes be- 'fore the public. Madame Florenz, who can bear an unbelievable weight of human beings on her broad shoulders, is the daughter of a famous Italian circus director, and is related to the Chirinis, who for nearly 250 years have furnished the best women riders in Europe. DALLIE JULIAN WAITING TO GO ON. UNDER THE "BIG TOP." A thrilling moment in the high wire act. Minnie Tournier, a tra- peze performer with the Ringling show, is a mem- ber of one of the most famous of all circus fami- lies; her name is familiar wherever performers are found. Indeed, it goes so far back that the grand- sons of the Frenchwoman who is looked upon as the founder of the family were the first to introduce tra- peze acts in this country. The three brothers known as the Clarkon- ians when they work as a erialists, and as the Clarks when they ride, formerly with the Barnum & Bailey show and the Hippodrome, and now with the Ringling show, are at the very front among performers. No other tra- peze performers do the double somersault and twist in the air; no others present the somersault from the ground, landing on a horse's back stand- ing. Their forbears have owned a circus in Ireland for at least five genera- tions, and every member of the family has been a performer – men and women. The father now owns a circus there and in time the boys will go back to assume proprietor- ship of it. The Cottrell-Powers troupe of three, a man and his wife and his sister-in- law, who do the most dif- ficult and spectacular carrying act on horseback, and receive the highest salary of all performers in the business, also belong to Irish families that owned circuses perhaps two hundred years ago. The Crockett brothers, with the Ringling show, belong to a gipsy family that has furnished per- 22 KID" KENNARD DESCRIBES THE NEW ACT TO HIS TEDDY BEAR. The Aristocracy of the Circus 65 formers for nearly three hundred years. Ma- dame Dockerill, who was the most finished of all women bareback riders in America and who received a salary of $750 a week the year round, “work or play,” was a Kenable, a name prominent in circus history. Madame Saki, the famous dancer, was a member of this family. Madame Dockerill's husband is now assistant to William Ducrow, also of a cele- brated family of riders, with the Barnum & Bailey show. W. W. Cole, the managing director of “the greatest show on earth,” is not nearly so proud of the fact that he has risen from per- former to millionaire and is recognized, es pecially within the circle of the circus, as one of the greatest of showmen, as he is of being the son of Mrs. Cook, the foremost bareback rider of her day. Riding on a broad pad strapped on a horse's back is very old; bareback riding is compara tively new. It was no longer ago than 1854, on the Fourth of July, that E. B. Wash- burne's circus, playing in Boston, was packed to suffocation by the announcement, spread broadcast, that, on that particular day, for the first time in the history of the world, a man would ride three times around the ring standing upright on the bare back of a gal loping horse! The rider, Robert Almar, actu- ally accomplished this feat, and also he carried an American flag, which he waved uncertain ly, thereby arousing tremendous enthusiasm. Contrast that with the present, when there are scores of riders who can turn a somersault on horseback. A clever boy can be taught, in about three days, to stand up on a horse and ride around the ring. Yet the changed conditions resulting from the three-ring circus have already lowered the standard of bareback riding. This coun- try has always furnished men riders of the best class. But there is no longer demand for the perfection, finish, ease, and grace that gave distinction to a few men like James Rob- inson, James Melville, Charles Fish, and their successors, Frank Melville and Robert Stickney, Sr. They were kings of the bare- back art. I have heard old circus men say that they would rather see “Jim” Robin- son walk into the ring than see any other man ride. He was one of the best dancers that ever lived, yet he learned dancing merely to perfect his riding. He was one of the few exceptions in that he did not come of a circus family. He was born in New York, and his real name was James Fitzgerald. Adopted by John Robinson, he was trained by a suc- cession of masters-trained how to walk as well as how to dance, how to posture-taught everything that would give him distinction in his act. Never was there a woman with finer grace than his, never a grande dame with greater ease of manner. A little before his time James Glenroy had turned the first somersault on a horse's back. That was on the Bowery, within the memory of a large number of people now living. Robinson per- fected the act. As long as he rode he was a great star. At the height of his fame he re- ceived $500 a week in gold, equivalent to about $1,000 now, for fifty-two weeks in the year. He retired with a fortune, which is largely invested in the Lewis department store in Louisville, Kentucky. Starting when they were six, in the old days performers were trained for four years on the ground before they were permitted to stand on a horse. It is harder to teach a girl to ride than a boy, one reason being the former's lack of strength and stamina. Only a girl with a physique very like a boy can hope to succeed. It is difficult for any woman to turn a somersault and it is possible only for those who have the adolescent figure. No adequate idea can be conveyed of the hard work that brings a rider like Josie DeMott to such a position as hers. For ten years she worked each day until she reached the abso- lute limit of her strength, being careful not to overtax. It is all practise, practise, practise. Nowadays all riders are taught by the use of a “mechanic," an apparatus to which they are attached by a strap suspended from a beam which revolves with them. It saves them many a hard fall in the early stages, and makes the progress in rudiments much faster, but saves no time in mastering fine points. After ten years of preparatory work, the few that show superior excellence are ready to ride as principals. They must own at least three horses, and usually they have four, in order to be proof against any emergency. The best care is taken of these animals. There is a horse with the Ringling show, known as Gipsy, that hasn't taken a step ex- cept under canvas for fifteen years. As soon as she has finished her work in the ring she is placed in a wagon to be carried to the train. A few years ago any good, strong animal- of course the better looking the more desirable -might be taken to be trained. Then a horse could be bought for $125. Now a good one, such as a circus would use as a draught- 66 Everybody's Magazine horse, costs about $300. After they are trained for bareback riding these horses are worth from $1,500 to $2,000, and some of them could not be bought at any price. The Cottrell-Powers trio carry six horses that they have insured for $5,000 each. The most difficult training stunt is to make a good bare- back horse, because it must be taught to travel at a pace that never changes, to take a stride that doesn't vary an inch in length. All circus rings the world over are forty-two feet in diameter. A bareback horse upon which a performer turns a somersault should take just twenty strides in making the circuit of the ring. If it can be taught to take twenty-two, it is so much more valuable. If it takes fewer than eighteen, it is useless for fine riding, though in the finish act, which goes with a rush and hurrah, it may circle the ring in twelve to fifteen strides. In turning a somersault on horseback, the rider rises with the horse, landing when the quarters are descending on the second strike after the rise. If there is a variation in time or in length of stride, it means a fall and very often a broken limb.. A man rider receives from $75 to $125 a week, and his career as a principal bareback rider lasts about ten years. It is short, not so much because these men get stiff and lose their agility, as because they lose their nerve. Nearly all circus folk marry young, and with their added responsibilities comes a lively sense of constant danger which they ignored in younger days. A man rider who cannot turn a somersault on a horse cannot command more than $50 a week. A woman rider who can perform this feat gets from $150 to $200 a week if she is a finished rider. This isn't much when all the disadvantages of the calling are taken into consideration, but it should be remembered that all the expenses are paid, including the care, feeding, and of course the transportation of their horses. All they have to provide is their own clothing. For the men riders clothes do not constitute much of a factor, and the women nearly always make their own, except those pro- vided by the management. It does not take so long to train acrobats or aerialists as riders. If they hope to accom- plish anything, they start as children. When a circus performer wishes to damn another he says: “Started to learn after his feet stopped growing.” Take the Siegrist troupe, now combined with the Silbons in the Barnum & Bailey show. Old-timers with the show remember when Toto Siegrist was the “top- mounter” of an acrobatic act in which his father was the “understander" and a brother the middle man. This is the usual arrange- ment. Siegrist worked abroad for years be- fore he was old enough to appear in this coun- try without being molested by the authorities. Like the riders, the boys and girls who do acrobatic and aerial feats begin with the rudiments of tumbling and balancing. They must have control of their bodies to a degree not realized by “outsiders." A really fine acrobat can stand in the middle of five circles whose peripheries touch, start to turn a somersault, and land in any one of the five circles that is indicated while he is in the air. In the aerial acts the first thing taught and the part of the performance most practised is falling into the net. It is difficult tó mas- ter but, once learned, it gives the performer absolute confidence. I remember Robert Hanlon telling me years ago that he could fall from any height to the ground and if he were not killed outright, he would escape serious injury. If he had a net, he could plunge from a height governed only by the strength of the net. I remember seeing him dive from the top of the Crystal Palace in London, a distance of at least one hundred and fifty feet, making the turn which landed him on his shoulders when he was scarcely fifteen feet above the net. Incidentally most of the aeri- alists make their own nets, partly for the sake of economy, partly because they want to make sure that the nets are safe. One member of a troupe doing big aerial or acrobatic acts is the manager, practically the owner. He devises the act, trains the people, and transacts all the business. He is paid a lump sum. In the Siegrist troupe this man- ager is Toto Siegrist. He does the catching, that is, he swings on the short trapeze and catches the man who does the leaping. The catching is the more difficult, and equally im- portant, although the catcher never gets any applause. Toto's brother, Charles Siegrist, does the leaping. The Silbons do the same side by side with the Siegrists. Both Charles Siegrist and Eddie Silbon finish the act with a somersault into the net. Their wives take part in the act. Sometimes a woman does leaping or catching in an aerial act, and these, if they are not married to members of the troupe, can command from $40 to $75 a week and all expenses. The other women in the act are always referred to as “just catchers," their principal business being to catch the The Aristocracy of the Circus 67 leapers as they come back to the perch. women's dressing-tent during a performance Between times they do a few stunts on the in any of the big shows in the last ten years. “safety traps," as performers usually desig- Each performer has two trunks, one for the nate the trapeze. The “just catchers” get “hotel,” which may be opened once a week, from $15 to $25 a week, and their chief reason on Sunday, and the other for the circus. for being, aside from the catching, is to fill out This is always put in exactly the same place, the picture and to hold the attention of the spec- with a bit of rope above it on which clothing tators while the other performers are resting is hung to air. Not an inch of space is The troupe of eleven people with Siegrist wasted, nor a minute of time lost. The gets about $900 a week and expenses. What women are marvelously industrious needle- division the members of the family make women and most of them are highly skilled among themselves is never known, but usu- in the art. Some of the finest costumes worn ally it is on the basis of their importance as in the show are the handiwork of the wearers. performers. The one amusement to which the men The apparatus used by the troupe is ex- of the circus are most devoted is fishing. pensive. The net is about seventy feet long Nine circus men out of ten carry a complete and twenty feet wide, and it costs $2.50 a angler's outfit in a trunk where every inch square foot. The trapezes, the frames that of space is precious. Next to fishing comes support them, and the guy wires are of the baseball. If they cannot see a professional finest steel, and the whole represents an out- game they have one of their own. “Slivers” lay of about three thousand dollars. Oakley, the great clown with the Barnum & The amount of physical work done by Bailey show, is also a mighty hunter and the performers of the circus is scarcely be- carries three or four guns with him, always lievable. These people make the care of their placed at the top of his trunk where he can bodies their religion, and they will do nothing fondle them when he cannot use them. that militates against their strength or their I should like to say a great deal about the health. The Barnum & Bailey show has clowns, those human, wise, lovable men, abandoned parades because of the hardship least understood of all performers. Years they entail on stock and people, but the others ago, in the days of the one-ring circus, the cling to them. When the performers rise in clown was one of the most important perform- the morning they hurry to the cook-tent for ers—with his jibes and songs. The three-ring breakfast. Then they must get into their circus drove the talking and singing clown trappings for the parade, failure to report at out of business and for years he was relegated ten-thirty involving a fine of $5. If the to obscurity. Now the pantomime clown is big tent is up early, the chances are that the waxing in importance. “Spader” Johnson, arena will be filled with performers practis- who divides with “Slivers" the leadership of ing for an hour before the parade. After the Barnum & Bailey clowns, has been with the street display, the performers have their the show for twenty years and no man is dinner and then they must dress for the better loved or respected. His wife rides one grand entrée, from which none is excused.. of the high-grade horses. She learned so that Only a very few of the circus folk escape with she could travel with him, for the circus never a single act. Nearly all of them do two and carries anybody who does not work. It al- most of them three acts, for each of which ways makes a place, however, for the wife or they must change their costume. A woman husband of a good performer. Isabelle But- performer often works in a gymnastic act on ler, who risks her neck by riding the automo- the ground, another in the air, rides in a bile that turns somersaults in the Barnum & ménage act or two, and in the flat races at the Bailey show—"L'Auto Bolide,” it is called end of the performance. In addition she will officially—and who is a trick bicycle rider and very probably “do a turn” in the concert a teacher of fancy skating in the St. Nicholas after the show, and she must change her cos Ice Rink in New York in winter-time, is mar- tume for each appearance, ried, and a place was made for her husband The dressing-tent is a crowded, busy place, in the box-office. The managers always en- filled with horses, performers, trappings, yet courage keeping families together, and their without confusion. When a man swears in success is shown by the fact that practically the dressing-tent of a circus it must be under every woman of the circus is either married his breath or it will cost him money. And and has her husband with her, or is accom- no man has ever stepped foot inside the panied by her father or a brother. P3 The New Strong Wine of Spring By KATHARINE HOLLAND BROWN Illustrations by Franklin Booth IF you happen to stroll up the Avenue now tiquity around the edges-books whose meek I and then of a bright morning, you may dilapidation, in the face of her otherwise have already met Mr. Lucius Willingham rigorously ordered library, his wife has often Coplow, pacing with sedate little steps deplored. So loudly did she deplore, indeed, through the seemly, elegant portals of the that on one memorable day, harried to the Unity Club, or halting meditatively before incredible verge of actual protest, Mr. Cop- the alluring banquet spread by a bookseller's low turned upon her and mildly requested window. You may have encountered him the privilege of taking his treasures to the to-day; you may have encountered him every attic, where he might enjoy them in peace. day for the past quarter century; but, if so, . The ethereal irony of his plea was sadly lost it may be safely averred that the impression upon the material Lavinia. She promptly he has made in all that time has never been conceded him a corner of the fourth-floor other than one of dim, sedate neutrality. In trunk-room. Thereafter, in that airless, fact, the probabilities are that he has made penitential cell, full of the chastening odor no impression at all. of moth balls, Mr. Coplow might frequently For Mr. Coplow's gentle, ineffectual pres be found, poring over his disreputable jew- ence, despite all its fineness of detail, its pol- els, or tenderly remounting a beloved en- ished courtesy, sets no more imprint upongraving upon a grimed and priceless page. the casual eye than does the passing footstep, These, however, are but subdued and triv- the vagrant breeze. He is a small, retiring ial interests. Tastes grow by talking about gentleman, with many grandfathers, and a them; and Mr. Coplow seldom talks very confiding expression. His principles are as much, having had most of that done for him impeccable; albeit as unaggressive, as his during the thirty-seven years of his married raiment; his tastes as staid as his cravats. life. When he does venture to express him- He has an eye for an etching, a vague, sur- self, it is often in the light armor of quotation. reptitious fondness for old books, preferably To those who know him well, he looks sur- of the leathery, musty sort, chewed by an- prisingly like a quotation himself; with his 68 The New Strong Wine of Spring 69 mild, studious air, his exquisite clothes, his "Perhaps I can.” Lavinia plucked the pleasant, irresolute face, he might pass for sheets ruthlessly from his grasp. “If you one of the gentle couplets in which he so of- would only listen when I address you— At ten garbs his modest thought. three o'clock to-day, 'The Right Rever- From a less frivolous point of view he end Lucius, you are not taking a second gives the aspect of a man submerged in life. cup of coffee! After all Dr. Holbrook's His slender initiative was drowned out in warnings !” early years by his inherited fortune; and now “You gave me such a very scant serving, he is, as it were, swept along, often out of my dear- " breath, now and then rolled over and over, “Take the urn away, Peters. I must say, on the big, resistless wave whose bulk is his Lucius " great wealth, and whose impetus is Lavinia. Whereupon the worm essayed a feeble Thus Mr. Coplow. And yet, as this chroni- turn: cle shall set forth, not a twelvemonth since “Lavinia, my love, I really must have a there came to him an hour when all the tides little more. It is so chilly this morning. of life turned and beat high and reverberant; And moreover, I cannot relish my breakfast when all the winds of romance called aloud without it. I must request another " in his ears; when he arose to his full stature, “Take the urn away, Peters. How you and did brave deeds, flushed and afire with can be so childish, Lucius, as to cling to that that deep, headiest nectar, the new strong habit! Isabel, where are you going?" wine of spring Isabel halted in the doorway, with a mu- tinous click of staccato heels. Her dark head “Have you finished reading the Times, tossed high; but her black eyes, all too heavy Lucius? Your omelet is getting cold.” beneath their shadowing lashes, wavered and Mr. Coplow halted midway of an inspired fell before her aunt's unswerving gaze. editorial, and blinked toward the head of the “Molly Percival and I are to try her new table with a deprecating eye. motor-car this morning,” she said sulkily. “Certainly, my dear. I mean, in one “We planned to go every forenoon this moment-ah- week, but you always made me go shopping, “Because, if you have, I must glance or to be fitted, or something. And here it through the funerals.” Mrs. Coplow but- is Friday— " tered her muffin with august calm. “I find “Peters, call Miss Percival's number, and that Isabel has thoughtlessly neglected to leave word that Miss Isabel cannot keep her send a card of condolence to the Cornelius engagement." Lavinia rose, with majestic Wilbours, and I fear that the services have mien. “I would not limit your pleasures, already occurred.” Isabel. But for a girl whose wedding-day is : “Certainly, my dear.” Lucius was gulp- hardly a month hence, you show a lamentable ing the climax. indifference to your responsibilities! I doubt “Why, Lucius, has it really taken place? whether you have even asked your brides- Just as I thought! Isabel, you must write maids. Molly Percival must be maid of immediately, and explain to old Mrs. Wil honor, I suppose. But have you decided on bour that our apparent negligence was due the others?" entirely to your carelessness. Who officiated, “No, Aunt Lavinia." Lucius?" Lavinia regarded her with blank displeas- Isabel flounced. ure. “William Travers Jerome," murmured “Really, Isabel, you are too careless. Sit Lucius vaguely. He was wolfing the last down, child. Lucius, you, too. I want to lines in piteous haste. “Stern adherence' discuss the decorations. Harrod advises -'uncompromising integ— "" white roses and stephanotis, everywhere save “Lucius Coplow! Did you hear what I in the dining-room, for which he suggests yellow tulips. What do you say? By the Mr. Coplow dropped the mangled frag- way, what flowers were used at Clara Var- ments in despair. He pushed his gray wig ney's wedding?" askew with a bewildered hand; the gesture "Er-ah–I couldn't be certain. Gera- made him look even more like a harassed niums, was it not, my dear?” chipmunk than before. “Geraniums! What nonsense. Isabel?” "My love, I really cannot understand-/" "I didn't notice. Pink somethings.” said?” 70 Everybody's Magazine “You never do notice, either of you." when in black velvet and diamonds. From Mrs. Coplow's tone rang chill reproach. “I every point, she presented an invincible for- may as well settle it myself. The yellow tress-front. Even her high, gray pompadour sounds rather garish. Perhaps he had better had a granite, Ptolemaic cast. Without being do it in greens. Ferns, and trailing as- a large woman, she appeared of towering im- paragus " mensity; of the impenetrability of steel. You “He can do it in trailing spinach, for all I could not climb over her; you could not care," said Isabel, under her breath. For- tunnel through her, any more than through tunately, Lavinia did not hear her heresy. the Rock of Gibraltar; and, thus far, no She had turned to her desk, and was search- human being had ever been known to get ing with capable hands through serried around her. memoranda. Isabel, on the other hand, was a creature of Mr. Coplow glanced with mild interest moods. from wife to niece. He thought vaguely that She sat now in thunderous silence; her their slight resemblances had never been slender young body, built on long, clean, more marked, even though the two were, as swaying, modern lines, reared rigidly erect usual, in supremely opposite moods. Lavinia on the slippery brocaded chair. She was an was tranquil and composed; Lavinia was olive-and-pomegranate girl, with much luster- never anything else, for that matter. Her less black hair, uprolled superbly from her steady, dominant temperament was as im- dark, sulky face. Wine-crimson burned in mutable as were the tones of her assured, her round cheeks; her soft mouth pouted; her commanding voice. Mr. Coplow yielded a eyes drooped, shadowed by curled, childlike furtive sigh. That was so essentially the lashes. Always upon her glowed dusky word for Lavinia-commanding. On this bloom, breathing of warm autumn orchards, April morning, even in chaste frippery of of odorous baskets, heaped with purpling lilac house-gown and lisse frills, she gave the fruit. This morning, however, she looked same impression of pyramidal inexorability as more like a damson plum than like any other MATE G LILAR HU Cecro Tranklin Booth " ISABEL! WHAT ON EARTH- The New Strong Wine of Spring horticultural treasure, her uncle considered; Archibald were sweethearts from their dan- and he felt uneasily that to disturb her would cing-school days? And that they were en- give the same sensation as a deep bite into gaged all the time he was at West Point?” a somewhat unripe specimen. Certainly, “Why, to be sure. I had quite forgotten. Isabel was not herself, her uncle considered. But they quarreled and broke it off. And She had been inexplicably discontent these she is engaged to Samuel Witherspoon now, many days. my dear." “Lucius!” Lavinia turned briskly. “You “Yes. She is engaged to Samuel.” La- and Isabel may meet me at St. Timothy's, at vinia's voice took on the menacing ring of one exactly five o'clock. I want a final decision wearied out in well-doing. “And no one, as to decorations. Also, we will have a least of all that ungrateful girl, will ever ap- rehearsal.” preciate the pains I took in bringing it about. Isabel turned with a gasp. The dull flame If Archibald had not been ordered to San leaped in her cheek. Francisco just after their final quarrel, I “Aunt Lavinia, please, we'll do no such doubt whether even I could have managed thing. It's—it's bad enough to be married it. But, as it was, everything went perfectly. at all, without going over all that ghastly Samuel is not interesting, I know. But he silliness beforehand, just to make sure that is thoroughly good, and, with his money and my train doesn't flip over, or that Samuel's his position, he can make her far happier knees don't knock together—though, for that than that penniless boy could ever do. And matter, when the time comes, they will knock! here her trousseau is bought, the day set, They'll rattle like castanets! You'll see! everything arranged—when lo and behold, And the whole affair is odious enough, as it Archibald is transferred to Governor's Island, is " literally under our feet! Of course he must She stopped short, crimson and furious, dash up here the moment of his arrival. yet quelled as always by her aunt's impassive And in fifteen minutes more Isabel came eye. flying into my room-Lucius, to think any “He's out of town to-day, anyway,” girl could so lack in proper pride!-and she added, grumblingly. cried, and stormed, and commanded-yes, "Then there will be no rehearsal—for the commanded—that I should send her ring present.” Lavinia yielded with visible reluc- back to Samuel, and dissolve the engagement. tance. “But we'll decide about the church I promptly made it clear to her that a mo- decorations-promptly at five, remember.” ment's whim could hardly supplant her Only Isabel's rebellious footsteps re- plighted word. Also, I forbade her to re- sponded as she clattered away up-stairs. ceive Wallace, or to communicate with him, “Upon my word, Lucius Coplow, was there in any way. She obeys, apparently; but I ever a more unreasonable, ungrateful child!” know that they meet, nevertheless. The Lavinia snapped her despatch-box with af- whole affair is too exasperating. If there fronted energy. “And in the face of all we had been a serious affection between them, I are doing for her!” should say nothing. But a puppy-love affair “Were you, perhaps, a little—a little—per- like that! And Isabel is so obstinate! She emptory about the motor, my love?” flatly refuses to see that all my interference "About the motor!” Lavinia turned on is for her best good.” him with blinding scorn. “So you think it is Lucius thought vaguely that he wouldn't just rides and rehearsals! If that were all - want to marry Samuel Witherspoon either. Hadn't you heard that Archibald Wallace is in He had always detested that estimable youth town? Of all the wretched complications!” since the days when Lavinia's intimacy with “Archibald Wallace?” Lucius fumbled Samuel's mother had obliged him to kiss the obediently for a clue. “Old Admiral Wal- pasty baby at frequent intervals. The fact lace's grandson? The red-headed army that Samuel was now sole heir to all the one? Why, what of that, my dear?” Witherspoon millions was of little weight. Lavinia fixed him with a stare of frank However, Lavinia could do no wrong. alarm. Lavinia meanwhile had turned with a final “Lucius, sometimes I wonder if your ab- resentful sniff to her mass of letters. Pres- sent-mindedness can possibly be developing ently Lucius gathered up his books and went into what your Grandfather Willingham's slowly away, up the many stairs to his little did. Can't you remember that Isabel and den. 72 Everybody's Magazine The door of his tight, moth-bally study scarcely consoling, philosophy. Yet that stood ajar. Somewhat blinded by the sud- anguished young face, that look of utter den change from the light hallway to its desolation, drifted before his eyes, and chafed gloom, he stepped cautiously in-to tread his thought throughout the day. squarely and horribly upon a soft, limp A t four o'clock, he laid aside “Pendennis” heap." reluctantly, and betook himself down the "Isabel! My dearest child! Did I hurt club staircase and across the Avenue to St. you? What on earth- " Timothy's. Lavinia would be already there, Isabel crouched by an open trunk, her face he thought, with a sigh. Lavinia was always buried in a heap of frilly chiffon, scarlet, be- prompt. diamonded with jeweled dew. Her uncle St. Timothy's, a dim, jewel-lit cavern after gaped down at her; to his dim masculine the glittering Avenue, was deserted, save memory the red flounces brought the fleeting for the assistant organist, who sat afar, vision of a far-away Christmas dance, years fingering an uproarious prelude. Lucius's gone, and of a broad, red-headed young man, dazzled eyes sought the auditorium to the very much buttoned. . . . Isabel was cry farthest corner, but in vain. In the midst of ing. Not in high, hysterical, feminine fash- his amazement, a sudden recollection smote ion, but slowly, heavily, with long, snatching, him. He looked at his watch with a shamed ugly sobs, that seemed as if they might tear grimace. even her strong, splendid, young body. "Four o'clock! And Lavinia distinctly Mr. Coplow hopped back and stood look- said five!” The memory of Grandfather ing down at her, terrified. Willingham's “development” smote him with . "Isabel! My dear! Why, Isabel, are you irritating force. “I'll go back to the club. -crying? There, there!” He patted her How careless!” apprehensively with three fingers. “If you The vestibule door resisted his hand: he could just give me a coherent explanation, my gave it a vigorous shove. It yielded suddenly love " and swung out with a thump, squarely into Isabel was too quenched to resent even the back of a very large young man.' this fond, maddening sympathy. She dragged The breath of Mr. Coplow's apology died herself to her feet, shut the trunk, and on his lips. For on the young man's shoulder stumbling to the stairs, blundered down them lay Isabel's head and Isabel's small cling- heavily, like a blind woman. ing hand. Mr. Coplow sat down dazedly. “La- Mr. Coplow gulped. The man turned with vinia has perhaps been a little—a little too a jerk; his set young face glared haggard in decided,” he pondered. For a breath, keen the dim light. The girl's arms fell; she faced resentment toward Lavinia's merciless de- her uncle with the same grim, white-lipped crees shook his mild bosom. “Lavinia is composure that her lover's face declared. often rather-decided. And it seems a pity “Isabel! My dear child! What does this to separate two young people, if they are mean?” really so fond of each other as-as Isabel's “It doesn't mean anything, I suppose.” melancholy behavior would indicate. Lavinia Isabel's cold lips slowly formed the words. certainly should have considered Isabel's “Only that I don't want to marry Samuel, happiness in this affair as well as her material Uncle Luscious. I hate him. I want Arch. prospects.” A faint pink rose in his delicate I've loved him all my life. And we were old cheek. His gentle eyes grew a little dim going to be married, only I had to quarrel “Isabel is nothing but a child. It is too with him, like the silly goose I was, and he severe of Lavinia to dominate her so. And went away. And now " yet- " Her white face did not waver. But her And yet, alas! for all her stern, unflinching straight young shoulders took on a piteous tyranny, Lavinia had been undeniably sensi- droop. ble. Isabel and Wallace had not a penny “But, Isabel, my dear! You know your between them; nor, still worse, the ability to aunt is trying—she is seeking your best in- save a penny between them. Moreover, terests in this thing.” Lucius found himself “if they have quarreled seriously once, they defending Lavinia with twenty frantic argu- will assuredly quarrel again. And that alone ments—Lavinia, whose righteousness could would show the folly of such an attachment,” never need defense! “You—forgive me, concluded Lucius, with determined, although child, but this seems very ill-advised. Your MIT RO NGUNI ALES Arhiti B ULT OR LO W0 AUDI THAN WATU IN MIN WH UMO WYMI VRUTY IIVRI DE VAN WIE Dul Franklin Bootin “TUT, TUT, LUCIUS. DON'T KEEP THEM WAITING." marriage is all but concluded. You, a Coplow, cannot break your word— ” "I broke it to Arch first,” said Isabel dully. “And you must consider Samuel's feelings. He has a right to some-consideration. And your own future, my love, most of all.” Lucius spluttered, eloquent. “You cannot step out of the life that you have always lived; you cannot take up an untried existence, where you must renounce every luxury, every comfort, even— " “Cut it out,” said young Wallace curtly. His big shoulders squared; his voice rang harsh on a breaking edge. “Isabel, he's dead right. We can't smash everything, just for our two selves. We did the whole mischief for ourselves, anyway, when we were fools enough to break it off. That gave your aunt her chance. It's all up now. I shan't spoil the rest of your life. Good-by.” Isabel listened, blanched and moveless. She put out one little gloved hand. Young Wallace stooped and caught it to his lips, then strode to the door. But at the door, he glanced back. Their eyes met. Isabel did not speak. Her trembling hands lifted, then fell at her side. The pitiful gesture of broken will brought the man at one leap, to catch her in his arms with a low passionate cry. “My love! My own love! My darling! 73 174 Everybody's Magazine I won't give you up. Never. Be quiet. I one life, and it's mine to give as I choose. tell you, they shan't take you away from me. And I've given it to Arch.” Oh, my love, my love, my own!” There was a poignant silence. Overwhelmed and shaken, Mr. Coplow “Isabel, of all the mad, impossible " dodged through the swinging door again, and “It isn't impossible. It isn't even in- stood alone in the dusky auditorium. He was convenient,” Wallace broke in cheerfully. divided between a shocked disapproval of the “Here's church, and organist, and bride, and tempest raging beyond that green baize, and groom, and the rector right next door, and an impassioned yearning to put his ear to the the maid of honor lives around the corner. crack. This must not go on. In half an And, best of all, here's the Next of Kin, to hour Lavinia, the punctual, would surely ar- give the bride away. Hike your necktie rive; and while this scene might be distress- straight, Uncle Luscious, and make up your ing, the one that would ensue, should she sud- mind to it. It's up to you.” denly appear, would be past endurance. He For a long minute Lucius looked from one must recall poor Isabel to her unhappy part. to the other. The girl, grave, rose-flushed, He must send young Wallace, who was really confident; the boy, crimson to his auburn a very well-intentioned young man, lugubri temples from excitement, yet with unflinching ously about his business. Lavinia had de- purpose set like a flint in steady eyes and creed this thing. Lavinia could do no wrong. tightened mouth. Then, as if swept past Yet a queer flutter stirred his dry pulses at his own command on the wind of their dar- thought of their splendid young despair. ing, Lucius shut his mild little grasp upon He had best interrupt them immediately. their eager hands. To break in upon that tragic tumult made “Command me, children,” he said with him feel as if he were calling a halt on an an uncertain smile. "If you are really d-de- earthquake; but he stiffened his wavering termined-I suppose it is up to me." knees and nerved himself for the fray. “Go get the rector, Arch.” Isabel re- Even as his unsteady hand sought the knob, leased Uncle Luscious from a hug that left the door swung back. him limp and dazed. “You come to the Isabel stood before him, erect, flushed, vestry with me, you old precious. I've got glowing, incredibly transformed from the some telephoning to do.” white, shattered thing of a moment before. As in some weird dream, Lucius beheld “Why, Isabel " himself seated upon a Gothic bench beside "Listen, Uncle Luscious.” Isabel bent the telephone stand. He shivered a little. and gripped his wrists with both strong With the first tones of Isabel's voice he knew hands. Young Wallace towered behind her; the die was cast. the two young faces shone as with some un- “Is that you, Molly Percival?” Isabel's earthly flame. “It's all settled. I'm not head was high, her voice a clarion. "I'm going to marry Samuel. I'm going to marry right close by, in the entry at St. Timothy's. Arch. And you've got to help. There, now!” Yes, dear, we dropped in for a-rehearsal. “Wh-wh-what!” And-Molly, are you alone? Horrors! “It will look so much decenter if you back They've stopped for tea? Well, who in the us up, don't you see?” urged young Wallace. world—Mrs. Wilson? Mrs. Schuyler Wil- He flung a beguiling arm round Uncle Lu- son, you mean? And Nancy and Judy cius's narrow shoulders. All passion, all mar Barnes, and Neddy Rutherford? H’m. of pain was swept from his face; he looked Now, Molly, listen. It's a quarter to five. like an ecstatic, overgrown boy. “You see, At five exactly, I'm going to be married, and Uncle Luscious, it's going to be an elopement, you and all those people must drop your the best we can do; but with you along, to teacups and come straight over for the cere- give a sort of odor of sanctity, it won't be mony. If you don't stop gasping, Molly, I half so scandalous. See?" can't go on. Bring a fresh handkerchief for “Elopement!” me. Molly, what are you screaming so for? “Listen, Uncle Luscious.” Isabel thrust Of course it's Arch. Who else? Good-by.” her lover aside, and took Lucius's blank, “Great scheme.” Wallace dashed in, fol- stricken face between her satin palms. lowed by the bewildered old rector, and seized “We're going to be married, right here, and the receiver. “1001-38th Street, please. now. For this is our last chance at hap- Hello! This the Khaki Club? Run to the piness, and we're going to snatch. I've only billiard-room, Thomson, and see if Captain W The New Strong Wine of Spring Kent or Atterbury or Buchanan or Ned Win- His shoulders lifted to superb erectness. His throp is there, any one of them—or the whole faded eyes took on a radiant gleam. The high, gang, for that matter. Tell them to hit the exhilarating draught of responsibility leaped trail for St. Timothy's like blazes. Tell 'em to his brain and burned in fiery currents to his I'm to be married at five, sharp-married, finger-tips. For once in his life he was a at five, you idiot! Who's what? Oh, Wal- part of Life itself. With the two awaiting him lace, of the 64th. Hike, will you? And say behind that door he knew himself divinely that the one who gets here first shall be best young. man,” A deafening throng of wedding guests con- Isabel stood before the vestry glass, se- fronted him as he entered. Molly Percival, renely arranging her hair. The rector, gen- bareheaded, shrieking wild questions; Mrs. tlest and most guileless of superannuated Schuyler Wilson, dazzling in miraculous rai- shepherds, after one or two hazy inquiries, ment of heliotrope and silver; the pink and had accepted the situation, and had retired ruffly Barnes twins; Neddy Rutherford, for his vestments. He was a little puzzled leathery and redolent of gasoline. And facing by this oddly informal consummation of their frantic pleas, a pale and determined Miss Coplow's supposably elaborate wedding bride; a red and determined groom. plans. However, it was given to people to “We can't wait for your friends, Arch, change their minds. Besides, the rector had dear. Please don't shout so, Molly. You're been literally snatched from a sea of transla- to be maid of honor. Certainly. Yes, I know tions, and mind and soul were still adrift in you're not dressed. But look at me! And, the fourteenth century. Little wonder that Mr. Rutherford " he could not perceive a trifling discrepancy The door swung open; there hurtled in four in the way of a bridegroom! breathless, laughing men. They stopped on “Darling Uncle Luscious!” Isabel dropped the threshold, amazed and spluttering. They her hatpins and put out her hands to him. gaped, witless, at Wallace's terse explanation "You aren't going to see your Isabel walk and the hurried introductions that ensued. up that aisle without a single flower, are you, “You'll be best man, Kent, please. If the dear? Trot over to the Friesland and tell rest of you will chase in-er--walk up the the florist to give you bride roses, or else aisle— " Wallace stopped, with a helpless white lilac. And hurry, please.” gurgle. The rôle of Master of Ceremonies Lucius fled thankfully upon his quest. In is a difficult one, at best. How much more action he could escape the gibbering terrors difficult when the wedding is one's own! of retribution that now mocked and mowed Isabel cast a beseeching glance upon at his ear. He purchased the flowers (not Uncle Lucius. Head aloft, chest expanded, at the florist's, but from a friendly push cart, Uncle Lucius rose to her appeal. being nearest at hand) and strode back loftily, “Major Buchanan, will you escort Mrs. humming a triumphant tune. Wilson to a pew? Mr. Rutherford, will you Alas, his fiends of prescience awaited him, take Miss Barnes? Captain Kent, if you and even at the lych-gate. Even as he stepped Lieutenant Wallace will repair to the chancel, within, the full horror of his wretched yield- Miss Coplow and I will meet you there im- ing, his injustice to poor Samuel, worst of all mediately. You gave instructions to the his treachery to Lavinia-Lavinia !-swept organist, Archibald? Ah, that is right!” over him in drowning waves. Panic caught For the familiar strains of Lohengrin were at his gasping throat. Wild-eyed, his arms floating down from the dim organ-loft. still heaped with the crimson roses and callas “Now, we are all ready. Let me take that of his judicious choice, he bolted through pink string off that rose, my love. If only the gate and started to run. your poor aunt- Eh?" At the curb, he stopped short, teeth chat- For once again the door swept open. The tering, yet suddenly himself again. The situa- sunlit space was darkened by a regal bulk tion was dreadful beyond words. The family in trailing carriage-cloak and billowing would never forgive him. Samuel would be plumes. his enemy for life. Lavinia-Heaven alone “Why, Lucius, this is very prompt, for you. could know what Lavinia would do! Never- Dear me, how dark it is, coming in from the theless, as Wallace had said, it was up to him. street! Is Isabel — Why, are you having a He was Isabel's next of kin, her Natural Pro rehearsal, after all? Samuel has returned, tector. He must do or die. then, and insisted upon it? Oh, go on, both S 24 21 HE WHIHA Women 18 TO JWHVELFI IS NI Wisiors will please not walk UDON i a rankher Boolit I HEAD UP, CHEST EXPANDED, HE TRAMPLED GAILY THROUGH. of you! I'll follow, and get the effect from beaming group in the front pew. Sally behind.” Wilson, her arch-rival, her dearest foe; those “But, Lul-Lul-Lavinia— " forward Barnes chits; Major Buchanan, that Mr. Coplow shut his eyes. Mr. Coplow's grinning house-party clown, whose chief tongue was sticking to his teeth. His neat accomplishment was the portrayal of his most heels beat an anguished tattoo upon the floor. decorous acquaintance in most indecorous “Tut, tut, Lucius. Don't keep them wait- guise. Aghast, infuriate, yet keenly conscious ing. Go on. Now, don't strut so, Lucius. that a scene was the thing of things to be Keep your elbows in, Isabel. Go right on." avoided, she blundered into the nearest pew. Up the aisle went the wedding procession The organ softened, fell silent. The of the year. A flushed and open-mouthed rector's voice lifted in deep, mellow cadences. maid of honor, in a charming white lace tea- “... Let him speak now, or else forever gown; a royal bride, her dark head high, her after hold— ” cheeks ablaze, carrying her sheaf of battered Lavinia half rose, choking in her anger. blossoms like a scepter; and, following close She caught Major Buchanan's popping, upon her calm proud loveliness, a stately anti- ecstatic eye; she sat down again, with the climax, lorgnette in hand, whose smile of thud of utter defeat. Even that hovering bland criticism froze to glaring amazement sword of ridicule might not have quelled her. as they neared the chancel. But Lucius's rebuking glance would have “Where's Samuel Witherspoon?” Her stricken yet a stronger soul to blind dismay. astounded whisper shrilled through the silent It was madness in those others. But for church. “What! Lieutenant Wallace, may Lucius so to defy her—Lucius! I inquire - Lucius Willingham Coplow! The music rose again, in the triumphant What does this mean?”. thunders of the Mendelssohn. As in a Mr. Coplow turned to her flaming wrath dream, the two silent young creatures turned, with the face of a reproachful cherub. hand in hand, down the long aisle. The “This is the House of God, Lavinia. radiance of their joy shone round them; it Please take a seat.” drifted like incense through the shadowy “Lucius Coplow, have you lost your wits? room and hushed the waiting group. The Who-when- " laughter, the reckless mischief, was stilled to Her wild eye turned imploring upon the tender awe. The men stood with bowed 76 The New Strong Wine of Spring heads. Mrs. Wilson's eyes grew dim. Molly. Lucius collapsed against the brougham Percival whimpered candidly into her hand- door. One miracle a day was bad enough! kerchief. "I ought to be angry with you, Lucius." In the vestibule, they all kissed Isabel Slowly he realized that Lavinia was melt- reverently. Even Lavinia, dazed and blink- ing in abject tears upon his thin little shoul- ing from the icy shock of revelation, held her der. He put a tentative arm around her. in her arms a moment, and gave Wallace an The tears overflowed. agitated pudding-cheek. “I ought to be displeased. B-but to think “We shall expect you to dinner, children," you'd really dash ahead, and act on your own said Lucius, the pontifical. He lifted Isabel's convictions, no matter what the results might cold fingers to his lips; he shut Wallace's be! Lucius, it was m-masterly!" hands in a capable, fatherly grip. There was Lucius felt a little faint. a ruddy flush on his thin cheeks; he had put “I'm a trifle tired, Lavinia,” he said pres- on inches of the rankest growth. “Come, ently, releasing his arm. “A walk across Lavinia. Careful of that step, my dear.” the Park might brace me up. One moment, Lavinia bumped obediently into the car James.” He stooped, with curt masculine riage. Half-way in, she bethought herself. brutality, and gave her a pecking kiss. Then "But, Lucius- " he stepped from the brougham, blind to her “Go on, my love. You are a little over- clinging hands, her all but spoken pleas. wrought. No wonder. Home, James.” “Go home and try to compose yourself, my Lavinia subsided into the far corner. The love. This has been a trying hour. Good-by.'' brougham swung away up the avenue. He strode away through the gay green “But, Lucius, I don't understand. Where Park, beneath the soft late sunshine. His did he come from? Whatever possessed knees felt cold; there was a curious hollow Isabel? What will become of poor Sam?” place inside him; his head was queerly light. “Please try to be sensible, Lavinia. Sam- “Masterly!!” The word broke from his uel could never have made Isabel happy. I lips at intervals, as if in ecstasy that must perceived that. So did Isabel. That is why have vent. “Masterly!' And to think- we-eloped.” if I'd only taken that tack with her before!” “Then you arranged it!” Half an hour later he turned homeward, Deep in Lucius's soul there fluttered a walking straight and calm, yet with an ex- mounting, hideous qualm. But his gaze did ultant little scuffle. Some distance from his not flinch. His voice rang clear. path lay a little patch where the grass was "I arranged it, yes. It was expedient, badly trodden. It had been recently re- Lavinia. It is not necessary for me to say seeded; a little green frost of blades just more." showed above the mold. Around it stood a “But why in the world did you want to? tiny fence of stakes, reenforced by a polite Why should you yield to Isabel's whim? yet peremptory signboard: Why could she so overrule you?” “Why?” Lucius considered. Then he VISITORS WILL PLEASE NOT spoke out, with the awful frankness of his WALK UPON THIS LAWN supreme hour. “I don't know, Lavinia. Unless it was because Isabel reminds me so much of what you were, at her age. And she Lucius put on his glasses and read the sign has a good deal of your temperament, my carefully. love." Then he gave his shoulders a hitch of “Why, Lucius! I don't-I can't believe abandoned defiance. He did not deign to -how l-lovely of you! Though I never had cast a glance at the policeman standing not Isabel's complexion. My n-nose is better twenty feet away. Head up, chest expanded, than hers, though. And to think you were he kicked the slender paling aside, and tram- really thinking all the time just of me-- " pled gaily through. “In an Even Balance" By GRACE ELLERY CHANNING Author of "The Sister of a Saint," "The Fortune of a Day," etc. Illustrations by A. de Ford Pitney ERTRUDE threw down the letter jov- it in a frown of attention, he rose, and walking u ously; there was an air of victorious to the window, looked out on what struck him exultation about her. this morning as a rather dreary prospect. “Six readings-fifty dollars each and ex- The quick rustle of Gertrude's gown and her penses! That will cover all I have planned impetuous footsteps—all Gertrude's move- for the house and more too. Why don't you ments were a little over-energized-prepared say something, Will?” Her tone was slightly him for the contact of her arm slipped within aggrieved. “You don't seem a bit pleased.” his own, and the bright decision of her face. Carroll roused himself with an effort; he “Of course, dear, there is only one thing to too was reading a letter. be done,” said Gertrude. “Of course I am pleased-delighted. When And Carroll had known perfectly well that did you say the readings are to be?” There she would say that too. was a certain constraint under the obvious “It comes hard, of course,” continued geniality, but Gertrude beamed at once. Gertrude, “especially after all you have done; “The first two weeks in September, Mrs. but you certainly can't leave an aunt who has Van Ness says—and that's just right for the been a mother to you, and a cousin who has work too; I do hate tearing up a house in been a sister, in straits. You'll have to carry winter. Now I can have it all ready when them through the winter somehow-perhaps the children come home at Christmas-I be- by spring Louise will be able to teach again- lieve I'll make this room Pompeian.” She poor Louise." glanced about the pleasantly worn carpet and “I have just paid up the insurance,” said furniture. “Besides,” she added, “the trip Carroll slowly, with apparent irrelevance; will serve for a vacation as well. I wish you then he looked straight at his wife. “Frankly, were going to have it, dear.” I don't see my way. Nelson has a year more “Thanks,” said her husband. at college, and Nell-I don't see how I can Of the two, he looked indeed the more in send her this vear." need of it. He was not yet fifty, but his “But I do," Gertrude broke in triumph- shoulders stooped slightly and he had the antly. She waved Mrs. Van Ness's letter. fagged appearance of the man who saves “Have you forgotten? There's a beginning, everything-even his vacations—and whose and I shall make a lot more—you'll see.” work is more routine than joy. Gertrude “You wanted that--for the house,” said was not a woman of quick perceptions, but as Carroll. she glanced across the breakfast-table, where “So I did," said Gertrude gaily, “but- the two were enjoying one of those early meals bless me—don't you suppose I'd rather send that precede the suburban business man's my own daughter to college? Why, I shall rush townward, something in the unusual glory in it. I can help with Nelson too. dejection of her husband's bowed shoulders Cheer up, dear!” There was again that ring stirred an instinct of compassion. of exultation in her voice and Carroll winced, “What is it, dear?” she asked, leaning while he said quickly: toward him. “It is your usual generosity." After a bare moment's hesitation he put the “There is nothing generous about it," letter into her hand. He had known all along Gertrude replied. “It is no more than just. that there was nothing else for him to do. What reason is there why I shouldn't do my While his wife's brows came together over part?” “In an Even Balance". "No reason, of course,” said Carroll, imagine it—that chance church entertain- smiling faintly. He pressed his wife's hand ment for which in an unusually happy mood and kissed her twice, in his desire to make he had written a monologue for her to read. plain his gratitude. • Her success had been instantaneous, and, to "I shall just fall to and work up some more Gertrude, dazzling in its opening vista of readings," said Gertrude enthusiastically, possibilities and possible releases. She had “and you go and see aunty, and set poor been asked to repeat the monologue on several Louise's mind at rest this very day.” She occasions. Carroll, too, had had his momen- patted his shoulder affectionately, and waved tary vision of releases, of the joys of author- him a gay farewell from the window. ship; he had written other monologues; but Carroll spent the forty-five minutes' transit just then a period of special expense incident to his newspaper office in wondering if he had to illness, plumbing, and other minor matters, sufficiently manifested his gratitude to his fell upon the household, and the peculiar wife, and loathing himself that there could be felicity of his first attempt was not repeated. any question of it. So Gertrude had looked farther afield for Before the desk where for sixteen years he monologues. Her vision, at least, had come had spun out daily columns, this question true—that was something, at any rate; and nevertheless pursued him. Ought not any the transfiguration her husband witnessed in man to give thanks for a wife like that? And her constituted accusation enough against nobody could appreciate more than he those half longings of Carroll's for the earlier Gertrude's generosity, her capacity; nobody days. believed more devoutly than he in woman's There was no tinge of envy in that feeling; independence or respected more its terms. he was proud of his wife—even without the And a poor devil like himself had reason to be continual reminders that he ought to be so. twice thankful for Gertrude. His pride in her was the offspring of love, and When Carroll had entered the office it had not of that duty to which friends and relatives been with other ambitions, but he had ended so frequently invited him. Sometimes, in- by being thankful if he could merely hold on deed, he felt it would have been a purer pride to the post. It had not seemed indeed as if without these reminders.. the cost of maintaining one man, one woman, “It is thanks to Gertrude that I can," he and two children, with the decent demands of told his cousin, in the after-office visit that a modest home-life, ought to take all a man's restored peace of mind to a conscientious and brain-power, but it had taken pretty much all worn-out worker. his; that, with the increasing care of his aunt, “If it weren't for Gertrude, we couldn't let the life-insurance he felt it a duty to keep up you," had been Louise's grateful acknowl- for Gertrude and the children, and a few other edgment; while the aunt who was Carroll's unconsidered trifles of similar nature. only remembered mother drew down his head In those early years Gertrude, of course, to murmur with a last kiss: had not been earning, and perhaps things had “Thank Gertrude too.” cost rather more than if she had been con Yes, it was thanks to Gertrude, thought spicuously gifted domestically; but she had Carroll, as he passed under the dripping door, been always an admirable wife and mother, noting with a mechanical glance at the porch sharing with a bright fortitude in all the rubs roof that a carpenter was imperative. As he and restrictions and denials of their common walked down the narrow path, he felt himself life. It was the more to her credit as she was so little of a success that his humility would not conspicuously domestic; she must always have led him to pass with a mere bow the he reflected now, have beaten, more or less, lady who was coming up it. She had, how- silently against the bars; the swiftness of her ever, no idea of being passed. She was one adaptation to the other life showed that. But of those privileged distant relations who had they had been very happy through it all. known Gertrude and himself all their lives. Sometimes—Carroll scorned himself for the “You've been to see poor Louise," she said, selfish thought-it seemed to him, they had firmly opposing his progress. “I thought been happier than now. Then the vision of you'd be down as soon as you heard. I said, Gertrude's brilliant delight in achievement whatever others might say, I'd never believe rose silently to accuse him, you would see an aunt that had brought you It must have come to her as a release from up and a cousin that had been a sister to you prison-a prison so narrow that he could not put on the streets.” 80 Everybody's Magazine “There is not the slightest danger of such The man commuted with Carroll daily, an emergency,” said Carroll, stiffening.. and had often spoken admiringly of Mrs. “Well, I should hope not,” said the distant Carroll to him afterward. He was soon relative, scrutinizing him with an eye that used to being congratulated upon Gertrude's Carroll felt took in the worn place on his coat cleverness, and if he was conscious of a grow- collar and his mended glove, and, for aught ing lack of response in himself, he was each he knew, correctly gauged the thinness of time ashamed of it. Women rejoiced uni- his flannels. “After being such a worker as formly in their husbands' successes, why Louise has been. How's Gertrude? I al should a man be less magnanimous? ways say if ever a man was lucky in his Once Gertrude had insisted upon taking women folks, it's you.” them all for an outing to the Maine woods. "A fact that nobody, I believe, appreciates “I wish my wife would take me," said an- so keenly as myself,” responded Carroll, other of Carroll's associates. raising his hat and passing with a skilful Gertrude made a great jest of their reversed effort. relations on that occasion, and Carroll af- He was annoyed with himself all the way fected to treat it with an equal humor. That home for being annoyed by an incident so the whole trip was distasteful to him, he set trivial, but it left him with a sense of soreness down as another proof of man's moral in- to which his wife's greeting was as a tingling feriority. Of late, indeed, it had begun to plaster, applied before he had so much as occur to him, in the very sickness of his self- removed his overcoat. defense, that perhaps these things did not cost In the fervor of her maternal helpfulness, women quite so much-the opinion of man- she had, it appeared, bethought herself of kind concerning their independence not yet Mrs. Laybrooke, the wife of Carroll's editorial having been cast in the mold of centuries. chief, a lady of wide social and philanthropic The man-unless he belonged to the Four instincts, a kind of millionaire mother in Hundred or to a foreign title-who traveled Israel to clubs, causes, and individuals. They at his wife's expense, confessed himself but had had, Carroll gathered, a heart-to-heart a poor creature in the eyes of other men. talk-he could see his wife in the very throb Carroll had occasional encounters with those of it, retrospectively—and Mrs. Laybrooke eyes. He faced them with fortitude; it was had undertaken to arrange a course of local part of a long adjustment of the sex-relation; readings in her magnificent parlors. somebody must undergo these painful begin- “I knew she would be interested,” Ger- nings—why not he? He would not have trude said, “because she feels as we do about abridged nor abated one jot of his wife's these things; she believes in a woman's help- successes; only-being mere man-he craved ing, and agrees with me that it is something inconsistently the respect of his fellow men. to be proud-not ashamed-of. I am proud He craved still more his own; and there of it; and sha'n't you be just a little proud were times when he had strangely to combat too—of my helping?" she asked, slipping an in himself the impression that Gertrude was arm about her husband's neck, with that curi- doing it all. Gertrude's spendings were ous little accent of reproach which so often always so decorative. It was she who took recalled Carroll to his duty. them to the theatre, she who paid for the rare “I am always proud of you,” he answered. outings, she who embellished the house; it And it was true. It was only of himself that required an effort of the mind to realize the he was not proud. barren items of rent, groceries, plumbing, He could not have put an exact date to insurance, and the rest as equitable assets in this loss of self-pride, but he could follow back the balance. its process with an almost painful accuracy. And now it was so natural that she should Gertrude had always been generous; all she pay the college expenses! Yet nothing had had asked was to share her earnings with the ever cut Carroll quite so deeply before. He family, and she had shared them resolutely, had the sensitive desire of the man who has determinedly, openly. One of her first per- not become all he intended, that his children formances had been to buy tickets for a at least should see in him the utmost that he famous actress's first night and take them all was. Particularly in regard to Nell. As to to the theatre, explaining to a neighbor whom his son, he had an instinctive trust that life they met on the car: . would somehow even up things; that man to “This is my party," with gay, frank pride. man, it would somehow come right; but he 4F Part "WHAT REASON IS THERE WHY I SHOULDN'T DO MY PART?" would have liked Nell to be able to feel for him something of the same pride that Ger- trude claimed so frankly. Frankness, indeed, was Gertrude's great quality. She had a way of taking into a bright confidence all their circle of friends; of buying Carroll, for instance, coveted articles of pleasure or of utility, and laughingly ex- hibiting her purchases to their intimates with the explanation that as Carroll never would buy things for himself, she must; or of gaily announcing at lunch, or dinner, or indiscreet tea-tables, that she had earned a hundred dollars the past week, or was going to earn two hundred the next. Carroll had never felt impelled to tell any one what he was earning, but then it is true he was not earn- ing anything like a hundred dollars a week. Neither was Gertrude, as a permanent salary, but the impression left was commensurate. So with the children, she had a way of call- ing upon their recognition of her achievement, to which they responded with laughing ca- resses and praises. Gertrude never looked more beatified than when her tall son, with an arm thrown round her, was merrily ex- alting her for “the very cleverest little mother in the world,” or Nell, with both hands on her shoulders, was exhorting her not to be puffed up-to leave that to her children. She asked-and it was all she did ask of her husband and children in return for her lav- ished money and thoughts—their recognition of her worth to them; and the occasional hurt tone in her voice was a signal to which the whole family rallied with unconscious swiftness. Carroll, therefore, was prepared for the expansion with which at dinner the family problem was laid before the family, together with Gertrude's final exordium: “Now, isn't it a good deal better to have a mother who can help you through college than one who can only make doughnuts?” “Well, I should say!” laughed Nelson. He took his mother's hand and squeezed it affectionately. Gertrude beamed upon the little circle. “Why need I go to college at all?" asked Nell suddenly, who had sat silent. “Because," said Gertrude decisively, “you want to be a woman able to help your children some day, in your turn. Your father and I," she nodded across at Carroll, "have talked it all over and it is all arranged.” The very next day Gertrude began prepara- tions for the reading-trip. She was using last season's gowns, but she took the edge off 81 82 Everybody's Magazine pearance of a meanness like that. Some- thing might show Gertrude. Meantime, he lived in a strained consciousness of those daily franknesses of hers, relieved only by a transient perception of the humors of the situation, its justice and its injustice, and the altogether curious femininity with which in the very act of proclaiming strict equality Gertrude achieved superiority. It was almost a relief when she went away on the round of readings, from which the first fruits came back to him in a strange hand. Carroll winced as he read the brief masculine note. At the request of Mrs. Carroll, who left some- what hurriedly, I forward the enclosed check. Mrs. Carroll left in excellent health and spirits, consider- ing the fatigues of the trip and readings. She has won cur heartiest admiration. Truly yours, S. S. VAN NESS. this by explaining gaily to every one why she was using them, why she would not afford a new one. All the little sacrifices, the post- poned house-furnishings, the foregone vaca- tions, she explained in the same way: “You see, this year I am sending my babies to college.” · That Mrs. Carroll was sending the children to college became one of the reverential facts of their suburb; it became a fact of almost oppressive magnitude to Carroll himself; and it was only at rare moments that he wondered about this, that he was able to recall to him- self a Past in which the sending of the children to college had been a fact so ordinary that nobody had paid any particular attention to it. A college man himself, why shouldn't Carroll send his children to college? Letting himself in with his latch-key one day, Carroll was arrested by the sound of his wife's suave tones; he halted irresolutely on the door-rug. Gertrude was just letting some one out. “Yes," she was saying—and Carroll's nerves quivered sensitively, for he knew that peculiar, intense tone of his wife's voice- “you see I must make at least that a month, and so—" She pushed aside the portière and Carroll found himself face to face with Mrs. Laybrooke. "Ah, it's you. I've just been telling Mrs. Laybrooke "-Gertrude took him into the confidence with a smile—"why we have given up doing anything to the house this year; the children come first." Carroll could only assent with rather a pale smile. He was not, however, surprised when his chief the next day congratulated him, with what Carroll felt to be but faintly restrained irony of manner, upon his wife's prospects. He had brief impulses to explain to Ger- trude that this kind of thing did not help him, that even frankness could be overdone, but a sure instinct withheld him. There was no aspect under which he could have presented it that would not have created in his wife's mind exactly the idea he dreaded above all. Why shouldn't she be frank about her own affairs? she would have asked. Wasn't it all true?— and why shouldn't a woman glory in doing her share?-above all, why shouldn't her hus- band glory in it too? Had they not prin- ciples? Of course, if he had any feeling- and here Carroll invariably imaged the first dawning in his wife's eyes of a suspicion that he would never henceforth be able to exorcise. No, anything was preferable to even the ap- Carroll had a rare moment of irritation. Might not Gertrude have taken the slight trouble to send the check herself and save him that particular pin-prick? He himself would have gone a good many blocks to send to her in like case. But then-he did her swift justice-it would never have occurred to Gertrude that it was a pin-prick; he reflected, too, that she would probably have despised him if she could have known that it was one. Moreover, the money was undeniably timely. In paying for his aunt's winter coal supply the day before, he had said to himself that there went Nell's Christmas furs, unless Gertrude could buy them. Gertrude bought most of the agreeable Christmas presents. Carroll had, at most, the somewhat inadequate sat- isfaction of feeing the janitor and the post- man. But then-Gertrude loved to give. A second letter, from Gertrude herself, announced her return in company with Mrs. Van Ness, who was to winter in the Eastern city and would pass her first night with them. Nell would please have all in readiness. “She wants to meet you and the children,” Gertrude wrote. Carroll's sense of pleasure in this announce- ment was but feeble. He did not conceive Gertrude's friends as altogether friendly to himself, especially—and this was curious- those who held most firmly to woman's duty to share man's labor; but he partly excused them; probably they had no grounds for think- ing he shared hers. He carried the letter to Nell, where she sat reading in the front room. “In an Even Balance” 83 “You'll do your best,” he said with a little “My dear,” he said gravely, "you are not smile, “for your mother.” He put out a hand quite fair. There is a difference. You must and stroked the pretty brown hair fondly. try to be just.” The girl's brows, which had come together “Yes," said Nell quietly, as if speaking to in Gertrude's way, over the letter, lost their herself, "that is what I mean to be—just." frown. She looked up at Carroll. She lifted her head again with that gesture “I shall do my best,” she said, "for you, which meant so many things, flung two arms father,” and Carroll had a curious sense of about her father's neck, brushed his cheek shock in the way she said it. with two warm lips, and was gone. “There are not many mothers like yours," Carroll stood where his daughter had left he began. him. In a few, incalculable moments, he was Nell lifted her eyes again. . aware, the whole face of his universe had “Are there many fathers like you?" she been changed for him. Everything that had asked, and again Carroll had that curious been wrong, his daughter with one touch of shock. her vigorous young hands had somehow made “Millions and millions,” he answered, af- right; she had reconciled all antagonisms, fecting to turn it lightly. .“Fa- thers who do things are in the common course, but mothers- Besides,” he added with a brief sigh, "you know I couldn't do this thing for you, which your mother is doing.” “But you have done things always,” said Nell, “done things and gone without things, and if you can't now it is be- cause of other things; and no- body has ever considered any of it in the least remarkable. But when mother does it—then it's wonderful!” There was an angry sternness in the young voice. “My dear!” Carroll ex- claimed aghast, “it is wholly different!” “Then if it is different, why do they pretend it is the same?” asked Nell. She con- fronted him with an inexorable gaze—the more startling that she looked at him with Ger- trude's eyes, not his—and Car- roll remained like one electri- fied. The explosion of the traditional mine beneath his feet would have been a little thing in comparison. To see his own questionings reflected in his daugh- had renewed all her father's earlier faiths. ter's eyes was a stunning experience. The Since Nell—the next woman, understood, sweetness, the astonishment and the wonder would understand, the present became a thing of it held him dumb, till in the sudden realized of no importance, negligible wholly, a mere reversal of their spiritual position an immense matter of personal adjustment. Carroll real- wave of loyalty toward his wife rose and sweptized with an intense relief that for himself, away all else. Resolutely he pushed from him personally, there was no longer any sting or the cup his daughter's hand offered. trouble left. With an even intenser thanks- WHERE FOR SIXTEEN YEARS HE HAD SPUN OUT DAILY COLUMNS. YOU SIET'S MAKE AT LEAST THAT A MONTH." giving he realized that henceforth his only possible jealousy would be for Gertrude; the only possible fear of injustice-for Ger- trude. It was an extraordinary experience; one that went with him by day and by night and had lost nothing of its power over him when he went to meet his wife; it informed the last waiting moments on the platform with an impatient tenderness, and he consumed them in buying a little bunch of violets for her from the station florist. She stepped from the train radiant with renewed life. The trip had been for her one sequence of fresh interests, triumphs, pleas- ures; she had successfully accomplished her purpose and was overjoyed to be again with her husband and children. “Poor Will, you do look tired and thin!” she exclaimed, and Carroll was able to assure her with truth that he had not felt so well in a long time. He listened, with an interest which this time had in it no effort, to her recounted triumphs, and smiled with their children over the fat pile of bills with which she more triumphantly crowned the tale. “There!” she exulted, "that means college! —a whole big, splendid year of opportunity for you two! We'll have a few beautiful days together, and then-off you go, to win your laurels!” “Which means, making a wreath of them for you," said Nelson teasingly. “You will look very well in a wreath, vain little mother!" He spread out two long hands till the fingers met behind her braids, and over her head he 84 Barriers 85 shot a laughing glance at Nell. The girl's eyes darkened suddenly. "Don't, Nelse!” she exclaimed, drawing away her brother's hands. “Don't pull down mother's hair—such pretty hair!” She smoothed it softly with protecting gentleness. Carroll caught with a pang the significance of the little scene. When Gertrude, laughing at her tall son and daughter, looked across to him also with her unconscious, inveterate demand for tribute, he met it with instant, overflowing tenderness. There was an in- finite pathos in her unconsciousness. In this mood the coming of Mrs. Van Ness was nothing to him. There might have been ten of her-if necessary, he felt he could have met them all with equanimity, even with enthusiasm, for Gertrude's sake. Their guest loomed upon him at the last moment before dinner merely as a vague mass of velvet out lined in lace, to which he gave his arm with the mild ceremony Gertrude demanded. About the pretty dinner-table, the talk fell naturally upon the recent trip, and not unnaturally upon those portions in which Gertrude had borne a becoming part, but Carroll scarcely heard it. The one thing of which he was intensely conscious was neither the guest upon his right (although they did not often have a guest so distinguished), Nelson's light-hearted sallies, nor Gertrude's brilliant enjoyment of both, but the silent presence of his daughter at the end of the table farthest from him. His neighbor had addressed him twice before he leaned toward her with quick apology. “I was saying," she repeated in a low, pleasantly clear tone, “that we are not quite such strangers as we seem, Mr. Carroll. Your aunt and I were school friends; perhaps you didn't know?” . Carroll looked up in some surprise; for the first time he realized that it was a beautiful elderly lady who sat beside him. “No," he said, “I didn't know.” “I spent the afternoon with her—and Louise," continued Mrs. Van Ness easily. Then out of a pair of expressively sweet and penetrating eyes she gave him a glance of liking. “On the whole, Mr. Carroll, I think it a piece of fortune you have a clever wife.” A gain Carroll was caught unguarded. In the flash of wonder his sensitive face changed swiftly; then it changed again. He glanced across the table, where his wife sat between their children, and answered with quiet dig- nity: “It is indeed the fortune of my life.” Barriers By THEODOSIA GARRISON NOW who art thou, between me and my Life, V My Life that beckons me? “I am thy Heritage. Oh, young heart rife With hope and dreams and daring, let these be Silent forever. I, who may not tire, With old arms bar the way to thy desire.” Now who art thou between me and my Life, My Life that calls, that calls ? “I am thy Duty. Far from mirth or strife, A withered beldame shut within dull walls, I ask that service thou shalt not deny And my least plaints are thongs to hold thee by." Now who art thou between me and my Life, My Life that cries for me? “I am thy Love. In thy hand rests the knife That slays and sets thee free. Mine are these feeble fingers at thy heart- Strike if thou hast the courage, and depart.” The Caballero's Way By O. HENRY Author of "Cabbages and Kings," "The Four Million," etc. Illustrations by W. Herbert Dunton THE Cisco Kid had killed six men in more knowledge of her man in her soft mélange of or less fair scrimmages, had murdered Spanish and English. twice as many (mostly Mexicans), and had One day the adjutant-general of the State, winged a larger number whom he modestly who is, ex-officio, commander of the ranger forbore to count. Therefore a woman loved forces, wrote some sarcastic lines to Captain him. Duval of Company X, stationed at Laredo, The Kid was twenty-five, looked twenty; relative to the serene and undisturbed exist- and a careful insurance company would have ence led by murderers and desperadoes in estimated the probable time of his demise the said captain's territory. at-say twenty-six. His habitat was any The captain turned the color of brick-dust where between the Frio and the Rio Grande. under his tan and forwarded the letter, after He killed for the love of it-because he was adding a few comments, per ranger Private quick-tempered—to avoid arrest-for his own Bill Adamson, to ranger Lieutenant San- amusement-any reason that came to his dridge, camped at a water-hole on the Nueces mind would suffice. He had escaped capture with a squad of five men in preservation of because he could shoot five-sixths of a second law and order. sooner than any sheriff or ranger in the serv- Lieutenant Sandridge turned a beautiful ice, and because he rode a speckled roan couleur de rose through his ordinary straw- horse that knew every cow-path in the mes berry complexion, tucked the letter in his quite and pear thickets from San Antonio to hip-pocket, and chewed off the ends of his Matamoras. gamboge mustache. Tonia Perez, the girl who loved the Cisco The next morning he saddled his horse and Kid, was half Carmen, half Madonna, and rode alone to the Mexican settlement at the the rest-oh, yes, a woman who is half Car Lone Wolf Crossing of the Frio, twenty miles men and half Madonna can always be some- away. thing more—the rest, let us say, was hum- Six feet two, blond as a viking, quiet as a ming-bird. She lived in a grass-roofed jacal deacon, dangerous as a machine gun, San- neur a little Mexican settlement at the Lone dridge moved among the jacals, patiently Wolf crossing of the Frio. With her lived a seeking news of the Cisco Kid. father or grandfather, a lineal Aztec, some- Far more than the law, the Mexicans what less than a thousand years old, who dreaded the cold and certain vengeance of herded a hundred goats and lived in a con- the lone rider that the ranger sought. It had tinuous, drunken dream from drinking mes- been one of the Kid's pastimes to shoot Mex- cal. Back of the jacal a tremendous forest icans "to see them kick": if he demanded of bristling pear, twenty feet high at its worst, from them moribund Terpsichorean feats, crowded almost to its door. It was along the simply that he might be entertained, what bewildering maze of this spinous thicket that terrible and extreme penalties would be cer- the speckled roan would bring the Kid to see tain to follow should they anger him! One his girl. And once, clinging like a lizard to and all they lounged with upturned palms the ridge-pole high up under the peaked grass and shrugging shoulders, filling the air with roof, he had heard Tonia, with her Madonna “quien sabes” and denials of the Kid's ac- face and Carmen beauty and humming-bird quaintance. soul, parley with the sheriff's posse, denying But there was a man named Fink who kept 86 The Caballero's Way 87 a store at the Crossing—a man of many na- tionalities, tongues, interests, and ways of thinking. “No use to ask them Mexicans," he said to Sandridge. “They're afraid to tell. This hombre they call the Kid-Goodall is his name, ain't it?-he's been in my store once or twice. I have an idea you might run across him at-but I guess I don't keer to say, my- self. I'm two seconds later in pulling a gun than I used to be, and the difference is worth thinking about. But this Kid's got a half- Mexican girl at the Crossing that he comes to see. She lives in that jacal a hundred yards down the arroyo at the edge of the pear. Maybe she—no, I don't suppose she would, but that jacal would be a good place to watch, anyway." Sandridge rode down to the jacal of Perez. The sun was low, and the broad shade of the blanket on the grass, already in a stupor from his mescal, and dreaming, perhaps, of the nights when he and Pizarro touched glasses to their New World fortunes—so old his wrinkled face seemed to proclaim him to be. And in the door of the jacal stood Tonia. And Lieutenant Sandridge sat in his saddle staring at her like a gannet agape at a sailorman. The Cisco Kid was a vain person, as all eminent and successful assassins are, and his bosom would have been ruffled had he known that at a simple exchange of glances two per- sons, in whose minds he had been looming large, suddenly abandoned (at least for the time) all thought of him. Never before had Tonia seen such a man as this. He seemed to be made of sunshine and blood-red tissue and clear weather. He seemed to illuminate the shadow of the pear WHET DENYING KNOWLEDGE OF HER MAN IN HER SOFT MÉLANGE OF SPANISH AND ENGLISH. great pear thicket already covered the grass- thatched hut. The goats were enclosed for the night in a brush corral near by. A few kids walked the top of it, nibbling the chap- arral leaves. The old Mexican lay upon a when he smiled, as though the sun were ris, ing again. The men she had known had been small and dark. Even the Kid, de- spite his achievements, was a stripling, no larger than herself, with black, straight hair 88 Everybody's Magazine day. and a cold, marble face that chilled the noon- moodily shot up a saloon in a small cow vil- lage on Quintana Creek, killed the town mar- As for Tonia, though she sends description shal (plugging him neatly in the center of his to the poorhouse, let her make a millionaire tin badge), and then rode away, morose and of your fancy. Her blue-black hair, smoothly unsatisfied. No true artist is uplifted by divided in the middle and bound close to her shooting an aged man carrying an old-style head, and her large eyes full of the Latin .38 bulldog. melancholy gave her the Madonna touch. On his way the Kid suddenly experienced Her motions and air spoke of the concealed the yearning that all men feel when wrong- fire and the desire to charm that she had in- doing loses its keen edge of delight. He herited from the gitanas of the Basque prov- yearned for the woman he loved to reassure ince. As for the humming-bird part of her, him that she was his in spite of it. He wanted that dwelt in her heart; you could not per- her to call his bloodthirstiness bravery and ceive it unless her bright red skirt and dark his cruelty devotion. He wanted Tonia to blue blouse gave you a symbolic hint of the bring him water from the red jar under the vagarious bird. brush shelter, and tell him how the chivo was The newly lighted sun god asked for a thriving on the bottle. drink of water. Tonia brought it from the The Kid turned the speckled roan's head red jar hanging under the brush shelter. up the ten-mile pear flat that stretches along Sandridge considered it necessary to dis the Arroyo Hondo until it ends at the Lone mount so as to lessen the trouble of her Wolf Crossing of the Frio. The roan whick- ministrations. ered; for he had a sense of locality and direc- I play no spy; nor do I assume to master tion equal to that of a belt-line street-car the thoughts of any human heart; but I as horse; and he knew he would be soon nib- sert, by the chronicler's right, that before bling the rich mesquite grass at the end of a a quarter of an hour had sped, Sandridge was forty-foot stake-rope while Ulysses rested his teaching her how to plait a six-strand raw- head in Circe's straw-roofed hut. hide stake-rope, and Tonia had explained to More weird and lonesome than the journey him that were it not for her little English of an Amazonian explorer is the ride of one book that the peripatetic padre had given through a Texas pear flat. With dismal her and the little crippled chivo, that she fed monotony and startling variety the uncanny from a bottle, she would be very, very lonely and multiform shapes of the cacti lift their indeed. twisted trunks and fat, bristly hands to en- Which leads to a suspicion that the Kid's cumber the way. The demon plant, appear- fences needed repairing, and that the adju ing to live without soil or rain, seems to tant-general's sarcasm had fallen upon un- taunt the parched traveler with its lush gray- productive soil. greenness. It warps itself a thousand times In his camp by the water-hole Lieutenant about what look to be open and inviting Sandridge announced and reiterated his in- paths, only to lure the rider into blind and tention either of causing the Cisco Kid to impassable spine-defended “bottoms of the nibble the black loam of the Frio country bag,” leaving him to retreat if he can, with prairies or of hauling him before a judge the points of the compass whirling in his and jury. That sounded business-like. Twice head. a week herode over to the Lone Wolf Crossing To be lost in the pear is to die almost the of the Frio, and directed Tonia's slim, slightly death of the thief on the cross, pierced by lemon-tinted fingers among the intricacies of nails and with grotesque shapes of all the the slowly growing lariata. A six-strand fiends hovering about. plait is hard to learn and easy to teach. But it was not so with the Kid and his The ranger knew that he might find the mount. Winding, twisting, circling, tracing Kid there at any visit. He kept his arma the most fantastic and bewildering trail ever ment ready, and had a frequent eve for the picked out, the good roan lessened the dis- pear thicket at the rear of the jacal. Thus tance to the Lone Wolf Crossing with every he might bring down the kite and the hum- coil and turn that he made. ming-bird with one stone. While they fared the Kid sang. He knew While the sunny-haired ornithologist was but one tune and sang it, as he knew but one pursuing his studies, the Cisco Kid was also code and lived it and but one girl and loved attending to his professional duties. He her. He was a single-minded man of con- The Caballero's Way ventional ideas. He had a voice like a co- began to talk of their love; and in the yote with bronchitis, but whenever he chose still July afternoon every word they uttered to sing his song he sang it. It was a con- reached the ears of the Kid. ventional song of the camps and trail, run- “Remember, then," said Tonia, "you ning at its beginning as near as may be to must not come again until I send for you. these words: Soon he will be here. A vaquero at the tienda said to-day he saw him on the Guada- Don't you monkey with my Lulu girl Or I'll tell you what I'll do- lupe three days ago. When he is that near he always comes. If he comes and finds and so on. The roan was inured to it, and you here he will kill you. So, for my sake, did not mind. you must come no more until I send you the But even the poorest singer will, after a word.” certain time, gain his own consent to refrain “All right,” said the ranger. “And then from contributing to the world's noises. So what?” the Kid, by the time he was within a mile or “And then," said the girl, "you must bring two of Tonia's jacal, had reluctantly allowed your men here and kill him. If not, he will his song to die away-not because his vocal kill you." performance had become less charming to his “He ain't a man to surrender, that's sure,” own ears, but because his laryngeal muscles said Sandridge. “It's kill or be killed for were aweary. the officer that goes up against Mr. Cisco the officer tha As though he were in a circus ring the Kid.” speckled roan wheeled and danced through “He must die," said the girl. “Other- the labyrinth of pear until at length his rider wise there will not be any peace in the world knew by certain landmarks that the Lone for thee and me. He has killed many. Let Wolf Crossing was close at hand. Then, him so die. Bring your men, and give him where the pear was thinner, he caught sight no chance to escape.” of the grass roof of the jacal and the hack- “You used to think right much of him," berry tree on the edge of the arroyo. A few said Sandridge. yards farther the Kid stopped the roan and Tonia dropped the lariat, twisted herself gazed intently through the prickly openings. around, and curved a lemon-tinted arm over Then he dismounted, dropped the roan's the ranger's shoulder. reins, and proceeded on foot, stooping and “But then,” she murmured in liquid Span- silent, like an Indian. The roan, knowing ish, “I had not beheld thee, thou great, red his part, stood still, making no sound. mountain of a man! And thou art kind and The Kid crept noiselessly to the very edge good as well as strong. Could one choose of the pear thicket and reconnoitered between him, knowing thee? Let him die; for then I the leaves of a clump of cactus. will not be filled with fear by day and night Ten yards from his hiding-place, in the lest he hurt thee or me.” shade of the jacal, sat his Tonia calmly plait “How will I know when he comes?” asked ing a rawhide lariat. So far she might surely Sandridge. escape condemnation; women have been “When he comes,” said Tonia, “he re- known, from time to time, to engage in more mains two days, sometimes three. Gregorio, mischievous occupations. But if all must be the small son of old Luisa, the lavandera, told, there is to be added that her head re- has a swift pony. I will write a letter to thee posed against the broad and comfortable and send it by him, saying how it will be best chest of a tall red-and-yellow man, and that to come upon him. By Gregorio will the his arm was about her, guiding her nimble letter come. And bring many men with small fingers that required so many lessons thee, and have much care, oh, dear red one, at the intricate six-strand plait. for the rattlesnake is not quicker to strike Sandridge glanced quickly at the dark mass than is 'El Chivato,'as they call him, to send of pear when he heard a slight squeaking a ball from his pistola." sound that was not altogether unfamiliar. “The Kid's handy with his gun, sure A gun-scabbard will make that sound when enough,” admitted Sandridge, “but when I one grasps the handle of a six-shooter sud- come for him I shall come alone. I'll get denly. But the sound was not repeated; and him by myself or not at all. The Cap wrote Tonia's fingers needed close attention. one or two things to me that make me want And then, in the shadow of death, they to do the trick without any help. You let me 90 Everybody's Magazine know when Mr. Kid arrives, and I'll do the Besides his marksmanship the Kid had an- rest." other attribute for which he admired himself "I will send you the message by the boy, greatly. He was muy caballero, as the Mexi- Gregorio," said the girl. “I knew you were cans express it, where the ladies were con- braver than that small slayer of men who cerned. For them he had always gentle never smiles. How could I ever have thought words and consideration. He could not have I cared for him?” spoken a harsh word to a woman. He might It was time for the ranger to ride back to ruthlessly slay their husbands and brothers, his camp on the water-hole. Before he but he could not have laid the weight of a mounted his horse he raised the slight form finger in anger upon a woman. Wherefore of Tonia with one arm high from the earth many of that interesting division of humanity for a parting salute. The drowsy stillness of who had come under the spell of his polite- the torpid summer air still lay thick upon the ness declared their disbelief in the stories dreaming afternoon. The smoke from the circulated about Mr. Kid. One shouldn't fire in the jacal, where the frijoles blubbered believe everything one heard, they said. in the iron pot, rose straight as a plumb-line When confronted by their indignant men above the clay-daubed chimney. No sound folk with proof of the caballero's deeds of in- or movement disturbed the serenity of the famy, they said maybe he had been driven dense pear thicket ten yards away. to it, and that he knew how to treat a lady, When the form of Sandridge had disap- anyhow. peared, loping his big dun down the steep Considering this extremely courteous idio- banks of the Frio crossing, the Kid crept back syncrasy of the Kid and the pride that he to his own horse, mounted him, and rode took in it, one can perceive that the solution back along the tortuous trail he had come of the problem that was presented to him But not far. He stopped and waited in by what he saw and heard from his hiding- the silent depths of the pear until half an place in the pear that afternoon (at least as hour had passed. And then Tonia heard to one of the actors) must have been obscured the high, untrue notes of his unmusical sing- by difficulties. And yet one could not think ing coming nearer and nearer; and she ran to of the Kid overlooking little matters of that the edge of the pear to meet him. The Kid seldom smiled; but he smiled and At the end of the short twilight they gath- waved his hat when he saw her. He dis- ered around a supper of frijoles, goat steaks, mounted, and his girl sprang into his arms. canned peaches, and coffee, by the light of a The Kid looked at her fondly. His thick lantern in the jacal. Afterward, the ances- black hair clung to his head like a wrinkled tor, his flock corralled, smoked a cigarette mat. The meeting brought a slight ripple of and became a mummy in a gray blanket. some undercurrent of feeling to his smooth, Tonia washed the few dishes while the Kid dark face that was usually as motionless as a dried them with the flour-sacking towel. Her clay mask. eyes shone; she chatted volubly of the incon- “How's my girl?” he asked, holding her sequent happenings of her small world since close. the Kid's last visit; it was as all his other “Sick of waiting so long for you, dear one,” home-comings had been. she answered. “My eyes are dim with al- Then outside Tonia swung in a grass ham- ways gazing into that devil's pincushion mock with her guitar and sang sad canciones through which you come. And I can see de amor. into it such a little way, too. But you are “Do you love me just the same, old girl?” here, beloved one, and I will not scold. Que asked the Kid, hunting for his cigarette mal muchacho! not to come to see your alma papers. more often. Go in and rest, and let me "Always the same, little one,” said Tonia, water your horse and stake him with the long her dark eyes lingering upon him. rope. There is cool water in the jar for you.” “I must go over to Fink's," said the Kid, The Kid kissed her affectionately. rising, "for some tobacco. I thought I had “Not if the court knows itself do I let a another sack in my coat. I'll be back in a lady stake my horse for me,” said he. “But quarter of an hour.” if you'll run in, chica, and throw a pot of “Hasten,” said Tonia. “And tell me- coffee together while I attend to the caballo, how long shall I call you my own this time? I'll be a good deal obliged.” Will you be gone again to-morrow, leaving kind. Herbert-Dunian WOMEN HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO ENGAGE IN MORE MISCHIEVOUS OCCUPATIONS. 91 92 Everybody's Magazine me to grieve, or will you be longer with your the brown mantilla over the head, and thus ride Tonia ?” away. But before that he says I must put on his clothes, his pantalones and camisa and hat, and ride “Oh, I might stay two or three days this away on his horse from the jacal as far as the big trip," said the Kid, yawning. “I've been road beyond the crossing and back again. This before on the dodge for a month, and I'd like to he goes, so he can tell if I am true and if men are rest up.” hidden to shoot him. It is a terrible thing. An hour before daybreak this is to be. Come, my dear one, and He was gone half an hour for his tobacco. kill this man and take me for your Tonia. Do not When he returned Tonia was still lying in try to take hold of him alive, but kill him quickly. the hammock. Knowing all, you should do that. You must come "It's funny,” said the Kid, “how I feel. long before the time and hide yourself in the little shed near the jacal where the wagon and saddles are I feel like there was somebody lying behind kept. It is dark in there. He will wear my red every bush and tree waiting to shoot me. I skirt and blue waist and brown mantilla. I send never had mullygrubs like them before. you a hundred kisses. Come surely and shoot Maybe it's one of them presumptions I've quickly and straight. THINE OWN TONIA. got half a notion to light out in the morning before day. The Guadalupe country is Sandridge quickly explained to his men the burning up about that old Dutchman I official part of the missive. The rangers plugged down there." protested against his going alone. “You're not afraid-no one could make “I'll get him easy enough,” said the my brave little one fear." lieutenant. “The girl's got him trapped. "Well, I haven't been usually regarded as And don't ever think he'll get the drop on a jack-rabbit when it comes to scrapping; me.” but I don't want a posse smoking me out Sandridge saddled his horse and rode to when I'm in your jacal. Somebody might the Lone Wolf Crossing. He tied his big get hurt that oughtn't to.” dun in a clump of brush on the arroyo, took “Remain with your Tonia; no one will find his Winchester from its scabbard, and care- you here." fully approached the Perez jacal. There The Kid looked keenly into the shadows was only the half of a high moon drifted over up and down the arroyo and toward the dim by ragged, milk-white gulf clouds. lights of the Mexican village. The wagon-shed was an excellent place "I'll see how it looks later on," was his for ambush; and the ranger got inside it decision. safely. In the black shadow of the brush shelter in front of the jacal he could see a At midnight a horseman rode into the horse tied and hear him impatiently pawing rangers' camp, blazing his way by noisy the hard-trodden earth. “hallos” to indicate a pacific mission. San- He waited almost an hour before two fig- dridge and one or two others turned out to ures came out of the jacal. One, in men's investigate the row. The rider announced clothes, quickly mounted the horse and gal- himself to be Domingo Sales, from the Lone loped past the wagon-shed toward the cross- Wolf Crossing. He bore a letter for Señor ing and village. And then the other figure, Sandridge. Old Luisa, the lavandera, had in skirt, waist, and mantilla over its head, persuaded him to bring it, he said, her son stepped out into the faint moonlight, gazing Gregorio being too ill of a fever to ride. after the rider. Sandridge thought he would Sandridge lighted the camp lantern and take his chance then before Tonia rode back. read the letter. These were its words: He fancied she might not care to see it. “Throw up your hands,” he ordered loud- Dear One: He has come. Hardly had you ridden ly. stepping out of the wagon-shed with his away when he came out of the pear. When he first talked he said he would stay three days or more. Winchester at his shoulder. Then as it grew later he was like a wolf or a fox, and There was a quick turn of the figure, but walked about without rest, looking and listening. no movement to obey, so the ranger pumped Soon he said he must leave before daylight when it in the bullets--one--two-three-and then is darkest and stillest. And then he seemed to sus- pect that I be not true to him. He looked at me so twice more; for you never could be too sure strange that I am frightened. I swear to him that of bringing down the Cisco Kid. There was I love him, his own Tonia. Last of all he said I no danger of missing at ten paces, even in must prove to him I am true. He thinks that even that even that half moonlight that half moonlight. now men are waiting to kill him as he rides from my house. To escape he says he will dress in my The old ancestor, asleep on his blanket, clothes, my red skirt and the blue waist I wear and was awakened by the shots. Listening fur- The Cat 93 ther, he heard a great cry from some man in mortal distress or anguish, and rose up grumbling at the disturbing ways of moderns. The tall, red ghost of a man burst into the jacal, reaching one hand, shaking like a tule reed, for the lantern hanging on its nail. The other spread a letter on the table. “Look at this letter, Perez," cried the man. “Who wrote it?” “Ah, Dios! it is Señor Sandridge,” mum- bled the old man, approaching. “Pues, señor, that letter was written by 'El Chivato, as he is called-by the man of Tonia. They say he is a bad man; I do not know. While Tonia slept he wrote the letter and sent it by this old hand of mine to Domingo Sales to be brought to you. Is there anything wrong in the letter? I am very old; and I did not know. Valgame Dios! it is a very foolish world; and there is nothing in the house to drink-nothing to drink.” Just then all that Sandridge could think of to do was to go outside and throw himself face downward in the dust by the side of his humming-bird, of whom not a feather flut- tered. He was not a caballero by instinct, and he could not understand the niceties of revenge. A mile away the rider who had ridden past the wagon-shed struck up a harsh, untuneful song, the words of which began: Don't you monkey with my Lulu girl, Or I'll tell you what I'll do- The Cat By ARTHUR COLTON THE cat believes that she can sing Like bobolinks in June; She sticks to this like anything, She hankers for a tune; The lyric joys that in her throng, She takes them for the gift of song. I wish that she would put aside This vanity from her; I wish she might be satisfied To purr, and only purr, Seeking no operatic fame, Quiet, domestic, void of blame. zna 22s THE GIANT DRY DOCK DEWEY WAITING TO ENTER THE SUEZ CANAL. The Suez Canal By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of "Soldiers of the Common Good," etc. DORT SAID, baking in the sun: a sandy, T sizzling, raucous place, compact of all the tribes and redolent of all the evil smells of earth. Alongside the coal-barges, great and dirty-a thousand of the maniacs of four brown nations shrieking and dancing over the coal; on the other side a massed flotilla of petty pirates; in an ill-conditioned boat, charg- ing the pirates, a squad of the red-fezzed and white - jacketed policemen of his debilitate Majesty, the Khedive of Egypt; clouds of coal-dust to offend the eye, and a Babylo- nian horror of gabbling tongues to stun the senses and weary the soul. And above all this seething tumult and mad revel of con- fusion stands forth the serene image of or- der, system, of cold, calculating, relentless method, the colossal statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps. So you go from the West into the East; out of the European world into the Asiatic; and that statue, imperturbable before the gateway, marks the dividing line. On this side you are in your own country; on the other the thin silver cord of the great canal stretches out over the yellow desert to alien things and peoples. You look up at the statue, as below on the steamer you slide by at quarter speed, and in some occult way the calm, masterful face, the long, strong jaw, the pose of command and authority, touch the easy springs of racial pride. Below are the squalling hordes of Asia; above the reserve and strength of the Caucasian; and the essence of the contrast is good to taste. Here is the race that does things, your race and mine; here is effi- ciency against inefficiency; power and con- centration against ineptitude; and that, you tell yourself, is the story of the Suez Canal. From the clouds of dust and the shrieking bedlam, you, making terms with a petty pirate, flee to the shore to wander the sandy streets, and watch the human kaleidoscope turning and turning beneath your eye. Arabs, Egyp- tians, Turks, Syrians, Greeks, Italians, Rus- sians, Frenchmen, Germans, English are in that mass, with anthropological odds and ends unidentified. The street signs are a study in polyglot; men lie and steal and gamble in all the tongues from Babel; and the variety of costume makes you think of something stagey and theatrical until you hit upon the exact 94 - The Suez Canal 95 word your mind has been groping for to proper antithesis to the howling wretches on describe all this-vaudeville. Port Said is the barges, a proper complement to the beau- a kind of vaudeville; it is the show place of tiful statue. Between lies Port Said. When nations. The Arab sheiks, white-turbaned, the canal days dawned, the company built it tall, austere of countenance, lithe of step, to house the vast army of workmen while seem placed on show for your delectation; the alive and to serve as a convenient pit to gaudily attired water-seller seems a fantastic throw them into when dead. It has thriven impostor; the Parsee money-changer appeals mightily since; for to all the vast trade of the to you as a piece of stage setting, and the red boundless East it holds the door, and takes fezzes seem donned for the occasion. But tribute. It began as a charnel-house; it will two things are genuine enough to any appre- end as one of the great cities of earth; and hension: the hot dry wind of the desert that if the sands whereon it is built could speak, strikes with a material impact on your face, they might tell awful tales. and the incessant bawling of the men that But now in the manner of our kind we swarm about you offering to be guides. And think of no such thing. All night the steamer these drive you in the end to a café on the lies at Port Said, while the café orchestras shore where you can sit, and from a safe blare and the roulette wheels turn; and in the distance watch the maniacs and the eddying morning, with the clear dry air sweeping in life of the water-front. from the desert, the sky full of the bewilder- The sun slants westerly, and the maniacs ing wealth of far Mediterranean color, you break into a chant, the whole mad gang are carried past the straggling town, past the singing together as they pass up the coal company's beautiful white office into the very in baskets hidden in a choking nimbus of canal itself; for so far you have been in but coal-dust. It is one of the primeval tunes the artificial harbor at its mouth. This of Asia. I have heard the same thing in the ditch, 137 feet wide, 31 feet deep, cut straight streets of Canton. There are four notes in for league upon league through level desert it-maybe five-and the maniacs sing it hours or banked across shallow lagoons-how sim- together while they pass up the coal. As ple it seems when you think of Culebra Cut for the words, heaven knows what they are, and the manifold terrors of Panama! You can for the four nations speak four different stand on the forecastle head and the banks tongues and each maniac screams in his own meet in front of you and again far behind, so vernacular, but all to the same tune-more straight it is. But for the passing-station or less. And all the while the foremen or every five miles, with its little house and drivers or bosses or whatever they may be, cluster of palms and telegraph signal, and with blows and oaths incessantly drive the maybe a waiting steamer, there is no change workers onward. Broad - nosed negroes, in the dead uniformity. Arabs, Egyptians, and Syrians are in that Anything that has steam must be passed gang. You remember, doubtless, the pictures at a passing-station; there is no room in the from the old Egyptian temple walls, the canal. But the native boats, the Arab slender, bare men with a strap about the dhows, lateen-rigged, manned by naked loins and a strange cylindrical head-dress that brown and black men, you may pass any- made their heads seem projected far back- where, provided you stop your engines long ward, their strange lips and strange eyes? enough to let them go by. Your steamer There they are, shoveling coal on that barge, may move six miles an hour through the the same loin-cloth, the same strange cylin- canal, but at no faster rate. The dhows drical head-dress, the same thin, naked bodies.' pitch mightily in your swell, threatened with Thirty centuries have passed over earth sooner disaster against the near-by banks; but the than the habits of one race. These are the brown, naked men care naught, and only sit men that built the pyramids; with such drivers in the sun and stare. and such blows and such misery of hopeless Lo, where the sand insatiate drinks toil. And now they coal the R.M.S. Mol- The steady splendor of the air- davia at the entrance to the Suez Canal. Down at the other end of your panorama, you say; for all about is flat desert. And away from Europe, down toward the desert leaning over the rail, staring at the flat, yel- and the silver canal line, is the great, glorious low, glaring expanse, you are aware that the office-building of the Canal Company, white lady next to you is talking. stone, glittering in the sun, very imposing, a “Henry, dear,” she says (not to you; to 96 Everybody's Magazine her husband), "just see how fresh and cool those trees look out in that sand!” You look, too, and the trees certainly do seem wonderfully fresh and sweet, and you wonder at them in such a place. Before them is an expanse of water, and that looks fresh and sweet also; but strange in a way you cannot define. And presently, as you gaze, trees and water vanish, and where they were is only the sand insatiate and the steady splendor of the air. It was naught but mi- rage; reappearing and vanishing wherever you look, until you are not sure whether even the sand itself, the stretches of smooth, oily la- goons, or the very camel trains be real But to the camel trains, indeed, you may swear with full assurance, for by the might of these, and the bawling boys that drive them, and the brown laborers, and the great black reptiles of dredges here and there, you use the canal or have a canal to use. The great insistent problem of Suez is the sand and the wind that forever blows and blows it into the canal. But for endless toil and sleepless vigilance the ditch would fill up. Such was the fate that overtook its prede- cessors. For this is no nineteenth-century nor European project, as a matter of fact, but a thing two thousand years old, or more. Then from the time of the Moors, in the ninth century, down to fifty years ago there was no canal, and all the huge traffic to the Orient came and went by the Cape of Good Hope. Some time when we are celebrating the sur passing wisdom of the Caucasian mind, let us put this in: The ancients cut the isthmus; we went around the Cape, taking six months, to get to India. I read the other day that some- where in England there is a monument in memory of Lieutenant Waghorn of the British army. One monument!-to the man that first drove into the British intelligence the fact that, canal or no canal, the Cape of Good Hope route was not necessary. His idea was to steam to Alexandria, carry the passengers, mails, and freight overland to Suez, and reembark them on the Red Sea. It was so simple and obvious that any child with a map could have hit upon it; but Waghorn hammered for years at the British Government before he could get any- body to listen to him. At last, he was gra- ciously allowed to see what he could do, and in 1845 he got letters from London to Bombay in thirty days. When that fact had sufficiently permeated safety, sanity and conservatism, the Waghorn route was adopted—for the mails. So moves the world. The demonstration that the thirty-day plan was feasible gradually centered attention upon a certain mad French- man, ceaselessly shouting about his canal project; the great Indian Revolution of 1857 showed the British public that quick transit was more desirable than conservatism, and so at last De Lesseps raised his money and began to dig sand and kill fellahs. The dredges scoop from the bottom of the canal the blown-in sand and dump it along the shore; the camel trains bring up rocks and supplies for the army of workmen that must toil always to keep this highway clear. Egyp- tians and Arabs are the workmen, Scotchmen the engineers, naked savage boys the camel- drivers, clinging with one hand to the first camel's tail and with the other beating the beast ceaselessly. One boy manages eight or ten camels, tethered in a string—their loads on their backs. When the steamer comes, invariably he drops the tail to which he has been holding and races along the shore screaming for bakshish and revealing to the interested passengers the amazing extent of his professional skill in picturesque profanity. That other and narrower stream to star- board there is the fresh-water canal built to supply Port Said and the laborers while the Suez was being built. It reaches up toward the Nile somewhere. Close beyond it is the embankment of the railroad from Port Said to Cairo, along which American-built locomo- tives flip the swift express trains past the slow- ly moving steamers. And still farther are the endless lagoons and dreary sands. That is the scenery. More monotonous country is not known to man, but from every steamer the passengers study the prospect with un- flagging interest. The hot sands stretch far away, unvaried, unrelieved, the air radiates visibly from their blistering surface, the sun burns madly in a sky of perfect violet, the whole thing is tiresome, but you watch every mile of the way and think it too short. Be- cause here is the work of man's hands that has done most to further trade and bind to- gether peoples and to contract the round earth to the hollow of your hand. In the mid-afternoon you pass the place where the great caravan track to Cairo crosses, and maybe, if you are lucky, there is a caravan, trains of camels heavily laden, black negroes, and the Arab on his horse-not very different from his pictures; dirty, maybe, but always a respectable-looking figure. No towns, no villages, and, except for the passing-stations, no human habitations; un- “THE PALMS AND STATIONS ARE DONE IN SILVER, AND THE SHORES SEEM STRANGELY UNREAL." 98 Everybody's Magazine less by some assault upon speech you can call the distance is traversed through the Bitter those things human habitations wherein, back Lakes, where there is ample room and good of the station-houses, the brown men live, water and the chief below hooks up the en- where the savage women are always cooking gines to full speed; but all the canal proper before a fire, and the savage children are al- is traversed at quarter speed or less to save ways swarming about. At the first turn, at the banks from being washed clean away. Lake Temsah, in the late afternoon there is a Soon the picturesque passing-stations will glimpse of the town of Ismailia far away, but be of time gone by and will no more delay the steamer no more than slackens her speed steamers; for the company has undertaken to to change pilots, with the pilot boat steaming widen the entire canal until two vessels can alongside, and plunges between the sandy anywhere pass in it. Then the speed limit walls again. may possibly be raised and the time of pas- Sunset is the supernal glory of the Suez day sage be shortened. Even now the work of -a Mediterranean sunset intensified; redder widening is well in hand. Easily enough the reds, more vivid saffrons, a more gorgeous company can afford the great though expen- and intoxicating riot of colors, against which sive improvement, for the profits are goodly. the palms of a passing-station are painted In 1904 the receipts were $23,163,695—that with a sudden stroke likely to take away your is all. For a passage through the canal the breath. And when, in the excellent phrase charges are 7 francs 25 centimes ($1.45) a ton of the old Roman, Night rushes in from the for vessels and 2 francs 25 centimes ($.45) for ocean, and the great search-light on the bow each passenger. The profits are such that turns its flood up the canal, there are other sur- they pay seven per cent. to the stockholders prises. Then the palms and the passing-sta- after numerous fixed charges have been met. tions are all done in silver and the shores seem Among the odd items of the charges are a pay- strangely unreal; and all the ship's company ment to the employees of two per cent. of the gathers on the forecastle or on the forward net earnings and another of ten per cent to the promenade to watch this memorable pageant. board of managing directors, of whom there You do the ninety-nine miles of the canal are fifteen, six being French and six British. in about seventeen hours if you are not held By the crowning triumph of the wily Dis- up anywhere at a passing-station. Part of raeli's career, the government of Great Brit- THE STATUE OF DE LESSEPS AT PORI SAID. "THE MANIACS OF FOUR BROWN NATIONS SHRIEKING AND DANCING OVER THE COAL." YEAR Tons 6,576 .......... 1886..... ain in 1877 became the principal owner of and results of Suez, the next greatest canal in the canal. Quietly and without asking the the world, in what it cost in money and human permission of Parliament, Disraeli bought for lives and human suffering, and what it has $20,000,000 the entire holdings of the Khe- meant for the world; for these things indicate dive of Egypt. At once arose a mighty howl what may be ahead for us. of protest by indignant Britons, for England First, about the results to the world; here is had always looked askance upon the canal. an outline of the business that the Suez Canal But Disraeli bought the stock, and the Brit- has done: ish Government has ever since raked off the Number goodly profits and held its ownership as a Fees of Ships secret menace against the world's commerce. All the nations of Europe have solemnly 1869....... 10 agreed that the canal is to be open to all 1870.... 486 436,609 ships at all times, and all the nations know 3,100 8,180,000 $11,300,000 1891..... 4,207 12,200,000 16,700,000 that the British Government might seize the 2,986 I1,120,000 14,2 20,000 whole thing if it chose. 1901..... 4,237 18,661,092 23,163,000 We are about to go heavily into the canal business as builders and operators. The TONNAGE task we have undertaken is the most colossal (of its kind) in history. Compared with the 1886 1896 difficulties at Panama the difficulties at Suez seem trifling. Instead of the dead levels and British.. 6,260,000 8,060,000 easy sand of Suez, Panama presents terrific German.... 320,000 1,120,000 rock cuttings and puzzling problems in en- French..... 700,000 820,000 Italian....... 190,000 590,000 gineering; instead of a fairly healthful climate, 310,000 520,000 Panama has malarias and deadly pestilences. Various........ 400,000 930,000 Here, then, is something for us in the records 1897. ... Dutch 99 “BUT FOR THE PASSING-STATION, THERE IS NO CHANGE IN THE DEAD UNIFORMITY." The Suez Canal 101 In 1904, 210,849 persons were passengers through the canal. This is an analysis of the tonnage that year: COUNTRY Vessels Gross Tonnage 2,679 542 Great Britain.... Germany..... France...... Holland.. Austria... Italy.... Russia....... Norway........ Spain...... Denmark....... Turkey........ United States.... Greece....... Japan... Egypt..... Belgium... Sweden. Portugal... Chile......... Total......... 12,164,591 2,736,067 1,167,105 814,204 632,323 306,395 249,801 194,278 125,116 77,204 65,679 39,220 32,305 32,813 7,866 6,060 3,812 4,408 1,545 18,661,092 one of those dirty, slovenly tubs that go lime- juicing around the world, and she managed to sink herself in the canal about twenty miles from Port Said. To have a steamer sunk in a 137-foot channel is bad; but this was worse, for the inconsiderate Chatham had on board 600 tons of dynamite. No contractor would essay the task of raising her; no diver would go down into the hold. So while the engineers deliberated traffic stopped, for no steamer could pass the obstruction. For eleven days the embargo lasted, and the ships accumulated at each end of the canal, until shipping stuck out from the Port Said break- water into the Mediterranean and from Suez down the Red Sea. Bitter cries went up from all the commercial world because of shipments delayed and dealings paralyzed. In a moment it was revealed that the Suez Canal was the main artery of the huge Oriental commerce, vital to the interests of millions upon millions of men. At last the engi- neers were forced to act. So they tenderly sent down batteries and more dynamite into ... "TO ALL THE VAST TRADE OF THE BOUNDLESS EAST, PORT SAID HOLDS THE DOOR." But you could pile up the figures without end and give no idea of the real value of the thing. No one in this generation glimpsed what it meant until the affair of the Chatham It takes an object lesson like that to drive into these heads of ours almost any simple fact The Chatham was a common English tramp, the sunken Chatham and touched the whole thing off. T he roar of the terrific explosion was heard in Port Said and beyond. And the Chatham —where was she? Splinters of her covered the area of a western county. And about half a mile of the canal bank she took with 102 Everybody's Magazine her. But the canal was cleared, the ships who describes the first of these enterprises, resumed their several ways and the com- and it must have been so when Darius mercial world rejoiced. It had learned what completed the work, when the Romans the canal really means to mankind. repaired it, when the galleys of Cleopatra It ought to mean much, for it cost enough. sailed through it, when the Moors of the To say that every spadeful dug from it was ninth century, to whom we owe the founda- soaked with human blood were hardly an ex- tions of our science, maintained here a aggeration. In that region of earth human canal eighty miles long and by it passed from blood has always been cheaper than water. the Red Sea to the Mediterranean. In the THE ENORMOUS MAIL FROM THE OCCIDENT TO THE ORIENT IS HANDLEDAT PORT SAID. More monuments than that to Ferdinand de Lesseps symbolize this great work and the others are not less significant because they are unseen. One of them is to the huge unprofit and huge cruelty of cheap labor. Many an- other such monument has been built on this same spot in this same fashion. The history of all these canals has probably been written in blood, and though all the letters are now effaced, the message is still understandable. Such is the clear intimation of Herodotus, intervals between successive waves of civili- zation the desert winds invariably filled all these works with sand. When Napoleon visited Egypt his discerning mind saw at a glance the immense importance of such a canal, and he ordered it to be dug; but having many people to kill, went off about that more important matter and forgot the other. Then came 1854 and De Lesseps, who chiefly re- vived the plans of the ancients. Most of the wise modern world, and chiefly The Suez Canal 103 England, thought De Lesseps insane, and mind. He instantly ordered the whole labor declared the scheme to be utterly impossible. system abolished, broke up the camps, and One of the many curiosities of their conten- sent the laborers home. tion was their childlike faith in the doctrine Now invention and progress are the prod- that the level of the Red Sea was 30 feet ucts of high-paid labor. So far the canal had higher than the level of the Mediterranean. been dug by hand, the earth being brought No man may say now where this fantastic up in rude baskets. But when slave labor was notion was bred; but somebody asserted it abolished the contractors were obliged to sup- and everybody believed it, and used it to ply steam machinery. In ten months 18,000 bowl over De Lesseps. So the French had cheap laborers had removed only 4,000,000 to go ahead and build the canal themselves cubic metres of material. The steam ma- with the assistance of Mohammed Said, Vice- chinery and the paid labor did more than that roy of Egypt, who was a clever ruler and an in one month. Some Europeans came and intellectual beast. earning by piece-work $1 to $1.20 a day, The Viceroy undertook to furnish the labor, pushed the canal toward completion. Yet or most of it, and that was where the evil came to the end the state of the native laborer in. De Lesseps is dead; let us charitably continued to be deplorable. For the slave- suppose that he was never aware of all the driver was substituted the contractor's boss; horrors that followed. The Viceroy's method for forced labor a small wage. But the of obtaining labor was to send to an Egyp- deaths were many and the bones accumu- tian village, seize all the fellahs, or serfs, tie lated in the sand-pits. How will it be at their hands, put ropes about their necks, and Panama ? march them off to the canal, into which they In 1867 the thing was done. In money were driven by armed guards, and where they it had cost for construction close to $100,- labored under the lash until they dropped 000,000. The first estimate, made by a sol- dead. emn conclave of expert engineers, was $40,- Of how many were slain, there is no record. 000,000. The time consumed was about We have tacitly agreed in modern government twice as long as was estimated. And the to the suppressing of disagreeable details. canal was dug with far more slaughter than How many persons perish of famine in mis- ten ordinary battles cause. ruled and plundered India? How many Yes, the colossal statue of Ferdinand De natives are slain at Kimberley? What are our Lesseps symbolizes the Caucasian order, meth- death-lists at Panama? But search among the od and success; also other things. European dusty and neglected Suez reports shows this, self-sufficiency, for instance, that we praise at least, that the mortality was frightful. ourselves for doing what the half-savage peo- The digging of the canal began April 25, 1859. ples did many ages ago. Also our exceeding By 1863 the complaints about the slaughter great competence, that it took us so long to of the serfs had made such an impression begin to do what was not only obvious but that observant and kind-hearted men began merely imitative. And, above all, our hu- to protest. The British Government, which manity and intelligence, that we should cele- at first had insisted that only slaves should brate with joy a work done so badly and be employed on the work, now demanded an bloodily, so clumsily and stupidly. It is a investigation. The Sultan went in person. great statue; it fills us all with pride and He found the men dying like flies. Not only happiness, but with all its beauties it seems were they killed in the ditch (under the lash) to lack something. Perhaps the deficiency but the Mecca pilgrims had kindly intro- would be supplied if we were to erect by duced cholera in the camps and the victims the side of it another statue of the same size died faster than they could be buried. The representing a scrawny and naked fellah dig- Sultan was not noted for humane or gener- ging under the lash. For, after all, that seems ous feelings, but the horror of the situation to tell more truly than the other the story of made an impression upon even his obtuse the Suez Canal. OSO ANO TE LURCHING, GROANING, DISCORDANTLY PROTESTING, WITH A FULL GALE BEHIND HER, SHE FLEW ONWARD. -" The Adventurer." 104 THE ADVENTURER By LLOYD OSBOURNE Joint Author with Robert Louis Stevenson of “The Wrecker" and “ The Ebb-Tide"; author of "Motormaniacs," “ Baby Bullet," etc. Illustration by L. A. Shafer SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS INSTALMENTS.-Lewis Kirkpatrick, by nature a wanderer and adventurer, is stranded in London-only a few shillings in his pocket, and all his outfit lost in the selling up of his landlady's goods. Hunting gloomily through the newspaper “want" columns, he comes upon a singular advertisement, signed “Desperate Enterprise," calling for well-educated young men inured to hardship and danger. Kirk applies; and after an anxious, hungry wait, receives an answer appointing an interview with a man wearing a green tie, at a Vienna bakery. Arrived there, he finds a Mr. Smith, who puts him through a stiff examination, assures him of a favorable report, and fixes the time and place for a second meeting. On the following morning, Friday, Kirk presents himself at the designated house, where he passes a severe medical examination and, as the third test, receives a hundred-pound note, which he is to return intact on Monday afternoon. Having sewed the note into his waistcoat, he settles for the night on a park bench, for he has less than two shillings to live on. Here he falls asleep and is attacked by thieves, who kick him into insensibility just as the police arrive. He regains conscious- ness on Sunday in a hospital, and finds that his clothes have been given by mistake to a discharged patient named Betts. He at once seeks out Betts and bullies him into confessing that he had found the note and had spent eight pounds of it, which he could not repay. Kirk forces him to give up the remainder, and then, desperate under the necessity of completing the amount, finally makes an appeal to Homer Kittredge, the literary lion of London, who willingly provides the money. Triumphant, Kirk returns to Mr. Smith and is given a ticket to a port in the West Indies, but no clue to the nature of the “desperate enterprise." Indeed, it is not until the day after reaching Port-of-Spain that he receives directions to proceed up the Orinoco. On the same boat with him is a Miss West- brook whom Kirk had seen, disguised as a housemaid, at Mr. Smith's. Shortly after sailing she speaks to him, begging his protection, and letting him understand that she is in some way connected with the mystery. An inti- mate comradeship, soon deepening to love on Kirk's part, is established between them, and lasts and lasts throughout the long journey by boat and wagon into the heart of South America. They are not separated until their arrival, on a dark night, at their destination, a sort of military camp called Felicidad. Before dawn, Kirk is up investigating, and at length finds out part of the long-guarded secret. For he comes upon an enormous, but uncompleted, land- ship, built of aluminum, and evidently designed to traverse the vast South American savannas. At the mess-tent, he is given a description of all the leaders. The ship, he learns, is the property of a queer old American woman, and the inventor is Vera Westbrook's father. In the afternoon while Kirk is working with the others on the ship, Vera and her father appear. At Mr. Westbrook's invitation, Kirk calls that evening at their tent, CHAPTER XIII (Continued) “Papa is furious with me! I've had an awful time. I've been crying all day!” ERA rose, and ran over to Kirk with out- “My poor darling!” stretched hands. She had realized his “Hush, you mustn't say that. You mustn't mortification, his forlornness, his dejection. even think it to yourself. Don't you see how It was an impulsive moment of sympathy, terrible my eyes are—all swelled up and red? of girlish tenderness, of sweet concern for her I was embarrassed every time you looked poor lover. Kirk took her hands, and their at me. I kept my head sideways all I could.” touch transported him into a sort of heaven. Kirk said she had exaggerated; that they He forgot the curves, the coefficients, even were the prettiest, brightest, starriest eyes- the interruption that had made a tête-à-tête “But no, listen." possible. He drew her down beside him on “I'm listening." the sofa. He bent over and kissed her warm “I've done a dreadful thing in coming out. round arm. She tried to free herself, but he Papa's at his wits' end. He can't send me clung to her hands and kissed them passion- back, and he can't leave me here, and he ately, stopping only when she threatened to swears he won't take me along. I'm a little go back to her former place. white elephant-and-and-I'm glad of it. “No, you must be good,” she said, glowing O Mr. Kirkpatrick, he is so ill, so changed and trembling in an exquisite distress. “I —that it breaks my heart. I'm trying to per- didn't mean that at all-only I felt so sorry suade him to throw it all up and go home at for you, and wanted you to forget. What a once. But he is so obstinate, so wilful. In poor silly stupid you are! Besides, I wanted England he didn't take the ship so seriously. to be pitied too. I'm in disgrace!” He used to laugh at it even when he was “Disgrace?” working at the plans. It was a sort of toy 105 106 Everybody's Magazine to him. He and I used to play for hours in the attic, fanning little land-ships along the floor, and laughing like children. But now it's all different. He's absolutely absorbed in the idea. And you can see yourself how ill he is. But he won't listen to a word of reason; he is going to sail in that ship if it kills him. That's where the inventor comes in, I suppose. His pride, his honor are in- volved-and an insane jealousy that grudges the glory to anybody else. He invented the Fortuna, he built it—and he has to go, too! He says that's his reward, and that he would not forfeit it for anything in the world; that it would look cowardly to turn back now, as though he had not the courage of his own convictions." She broke off, and began to cry, rolling her handkerchief into a little ball, and dabbing her eyes with it. Kirk tried in vain to say something comforting. “It's just this,” she went on. “Either I go with him, sharing the risks and taking care of him-or we go home together di- rectly. I have told him that a hundred times, and I'm going to stick to it. He's the only father I have, and I think he owes it to me to take care of himself. Don't you think he does? Surely one's only child is more im- portant than a ship? But it's terrible to argue with him when he is so ill and broken. Yet I have to. For his own sake I must- " “Can't you get the others to help you?” “The others! That's the worst of it. They would be only too glad to get rid of him -Captain Jackson and Mrs. Hitchcock, that is. The captain's only idea is to marry the old lady, and return home—while as for her, she is so fussy and dictatorial that there is a constant clash between her and papa. She interferes in everything, and demands all sorts of impossibilities in spite of the agreement that papa was to be responsible for the ship, and was to have a free hand. But papa is too shrewd to be tricked, and he fights every inch of his ground, though it tells on him horribly, and jangles his nerves all to pieces.” “But there is von Zedtwitz.” “The doctor! It's all papa can do to keep him tractable under the constant nag- ging he gets from those two. He isn't any help at all. And he's the most important man of all, you know-as he is the originator of the expedition, and holds the secret. If we lost him we should not know where to sail to. And that's what Captain Jackson wants, to goad him and insult him till he finally throws it all up in disgust. Oh, it's an awful tangle, and if papa weren't papa, I'd want him to stick right here, and force the project through. But since he's my father his health comes first, and I would willingly see every- thing go to pieces-gladly see it-just to get him away. But he won't look at it in that light. I can see his side of it-but he can't see mine. I have to admit this, and this, and this—while he admits nothing. Oh, dear, oh, dear, I'm the most miserable person in the whole world!” “God knows, I wish I could help you,” said Kirk. She looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. “I know you would if you could,” she ex- claimed, with a gratitude that he felt was un- deserved. “You are a great consolation to me. I haven't any one but you. You-you can understand.” They drew apart as they heard Mr. West- brook's step outside. He entered, looking very white and perturbed, and threw himself wearily into a chair. But he answered Vera's questioning glance in a voice that he at- tempted to make easy and unconcerned. “It's all right-all right-my dear,” he said. “I smoothed him down. I made him laugh at himself. He won't murder anybody to-night. He is a great big honest child, with all of a child's, resentment of chicanery and injustice. But if they go on treating him like a dog, somebody will end by getting bitten.” Kirk rose and said he ought to be going; but to his surprise Mr. Westbrook demurred, and pressed him, with some insistence, to stay a little longer. "I'd like to show you the plans of the For- tuna,” he said. “Vera, get them out of the other tent; they are in the long canister be- side my bed.” Kirk sat down again, com- plimented, and not a little surprised. He was in a state of exultation, his head whirling with intoxicating recollections that he tried to piece together into some coher- ency. He hardly knew how much he had gained. He was dizzy with wonder, with rapture. Mr. Westbrook spoke to him, and he spoke to Mr. Westbrook. What they spoke about he scarcely knew. He saw the old man, benignant and courteous, through a sort of mist, and he awoke to reality only when Vera returned. The canister was opened, and a roll of The Adventurer 107 blue prints was taken from it. The prints were large and unwieldy. It was not easy to spread them out, and the corners had to be weighted down with books. The table was not big enough, and so the floor was used, Mr. Westbrook leaning forward in his chair while Kirk and Vera knelt at his feet. Their hands met more than once, and parted re- luctantly. Kirk's interest in the plans was genuinely unaffected. There was the For- tuna as she was going to be, and for the first time he grasped the design as a whole. Everything was carried out to the last detail, with a precision and foresight that delighted him. There was something very reassuring to him in the sight of those plans, elevations, and working drawings. The Fortuna, at least, was not the child of a haphazard en- thusiasm, built conjecturally; nothing had been left to chance. She had been evolved by a man of a trained mechanical mind, whose name in itself was a guarantee of scientific perfection. Kirk was outspoken in his admiration. He had no intention of flattering Mr. Westbrook, and his sincerity was too transparent to be questioned. But the old man was keenly alive to the praise, and his manner thawed and grew increasingly cordial as Kirk pored over the plans, and expressed his extreme satis- faction with them. When at last they were rolled up and put back in the canister, Kirk could not but feel that he had advanced in Mr. Westbrook's opinion. He shook hands with Vera and said good night. But Mr. Westbrook got his hat, and said that he would come too-part of the way. “I'd like to have a little talk with you,” he said. “I may not have another opportunity. There are several things, Mr. Kirkpatrick, that-that-" He did not finish the sen- tence. He seemed confused and at a loss how to proceed, fumbling at the shawl Vera placed about his shoulders. He led the way out in silence, while Vera, standing in the shadow of the threshold, looked after them until they disappeared in the darkness. "That is a very reassuring fact," continued Westbrook. “It makes it much easier for us to come to an understanding." Kirk wondered what he meant, but for- bore to ask. “My daughter has done a very foolish thing in coming out here. It was a wild and impulsive action, which was to some extent justified by the news of my illness reaching her, in spite of my precautions. I am hor- rified, less at what she has done than at what she has escaped. It was a most reck- less and desperate proceeding-and it makes my blood run cold even to think of it. She has told me a great deal about yourself- about your kindness, your extreme consid- eration, your vigilance and chivalry. But as a man of the world I probably appreciate all that even more than she does. You have put me under a great obligation. And this sense of obligation makes it difficult for me to go on. I hesitate to risk offending a man for whom I have so strong a regard. You will forgive me if I speak plainly?” “Why, certainly,” said Kirk, not a little mystified. “Proceed, by all means." “My daughter has unconsciously placed herself in a very ambiguous position-a very cruel position, Mr. Kirkpatrick, though, of course, I have kept the knowledge from her. It is largely in your power to stop gossip and chatter, and in appealing to you I feel that I am appealing to a man of honor. By your conduct she will be judged. Do you under- stand?”. “Well, no,” said Kirk, “I don't. Frank- ly, I don't.” “Well, it is just this, Mr. Kirkpatrick. These people here will have you both under a microscope. They will misconstrue your friendship with her. Malice and envy are rife here, as they are everywhere. Does it not suggest itself to you to make some sacrifice for my daughter's sake? To govern yourself so as to nullify all criticism?” “By doing what?”. “Nothing! I mean by staying away from us—by not calling-by losing yourself among the others, and tacitly adopting their attitude. In this way the gossip will soon be silenced, especially if you are reserved and careful in your speech. Is it too much to ask?” Kirk's fairy castle was tumbling about his ears. “Does it not occur to you," he asked, "that her-Miss Westbrook’s-feelings may be wounded? That she may feel slighted by CHAPTER XIV “THERE are several things I wish to tell you,” said the old man, "and the first is that I think you are an uncommonly nice fellow." “Thank you," returned Kirk, not without misgiving at so strange and unexpected a preface. 108 Everybody's Magazine the course you have outlined for me? Are you not making me appear very rude? You are good enough to put the favor on my side -but it is really the other way about. I've led a rough life, Mr. Westbrook, and her kindness has meant a great deal to me. I value it exceedingly. I cannot do anything that would lose me her good opinion.” “Do you think that I ought to tell her of this request?” “Oh, you must." “Then the other is agreed?" Kirk assented sadly.' “I would do anything for her, Mr. West- brook—anything except to seem to wound her. It is a great blow to me. I was foolish enough to-to-" He broke off. West- brook pretended not to notice his agitation. The old fellow had a pretty clear idea as to how matters stood, and was more than dis- pleased. He had fully determined, should he fail to carry his point, to throw over every thing and return with his daughter to Eng- land. It was a hateful alternative, but he felt that he had no choice. This affair had to be nipped in the bud, and if Kirk had proved recalcitrant, the Moltke would have slipped her moorings on the morrow with the Westbrooks on board. Dear as the For- tuna was to the old man, his daughter was dearer, and he knew the folly of temporizing. —and long silent evenings that he chose to pass alone, far out on the prairie with no companionship but the stars. He saw Vera often, but had never spoken to her since that night in her father's tent. Every day she visited the ship, and smiled at him as she passed on her rounds with her father-a ten- der smile, full of vague messages for him, compassionate and beautiful, and mutely ap- pealing. She had grown paler, more sub- dued, and her eyes, as they sought his, had a curious pathos that haunted him long after she had gone. Her father's prohibition had been hard to bear, and Kirk felt a somber satisfaction in the thought that he was not the only one to suffer. The ship was progressing rapidly toward completion. The main deck was almost habitable. Doors and windows were in. Bunks, shelves, tables, lockers, racks, and other such details were taxing the energies of the carpenter's staff. The commissary department, under the direction of Mr. Mc- Cann, the paymaster, was arranging for the ship's equipment, and was accumulating mountains of stores beside her. The upper deck was now trim and smart. Four West- brook quick-firers, using 303 service ammu- nition, were in position, two forward and two aft, in steel shields. The chart-room below the bridge was a miniature arsenal, the walls lined with Martini-Henrys and pasteboard boxes containing 20,000 rounds of ammunition visible through wire screens. The galley was being finished and painted; a light wire rail was in process of construc- tion around the ship; the companionways, accommodation-ladders, etc., were receiving their finishing touches. Every one was animated with the thought that sailing-day was fast approaching. The talk ran constantly on the absorbing theme of how many men were to be taken, and how many left at Felicidad. It got about that the number to embark would be about fifty-five. Including the sick, there were more than twice that number in camp, and a weeding- out process was inevitable. The thought of it caused no little anxiety and distress. No- body wanted to stay behind. St. Aubyn man- aged to fool the doctor and get back on the active list. He was very shaky and ill, and had shivering spells when his teeth would chatter like castanets—but with indomitable courage he stuck to work, in the hope that his ill health would be overlooked and that he would be taken. he said at last. “You appreciate that, I hope. You have an honest face—an honest voice. There is such a thing as keeping the letter of an agreement and violating the spirit. But I am taking it for granted that you're too sincere and too manly to be un worthy of my confidence.” “No, no, that's all right," said Kirk. “You've convinced me. I was a fool ever to think otherwise. It's the only thing to do, and-and-I'll do it!” They shook hands under the starlight, and then separated. Westbrook slowly returned to his tent, not a little relieved at the success of his endeavors. Kirk dejectedly sought his cot, and lay half the night with wide-open eyes, in such a turmoil of longing and wretch- edness that sleep was out of the question. He had won, and he had lost-and now it was all over. He had chained himself with promises, and the future was black indeed. The succeeding days were filled with hard and exhausting work, periodically relieved Glare, heat, clang, and sweat-noisy meals The Adventurer 109 There were many conjectures as to the Beale, like all sea-lawyers, was as suscepti- appointment of officers and petty officers. ble to flattery as a schoolgirl. Kirk was Every one was in the dark as to the selection, willing to play him to the top of his bent, for and it became a subject of constant bick- the fellow had a tremendous potentiality for ering. It was often suggested, with much mischief. The occasion seemed to justify intemperance of language, that officers ought dissimulation. to be chosen by vote, and the question of “The great thing is to get started,” Kirk leaders thus left to the men who furnished continued. “Let's subordinate everything to the bone and sinew of the expedition. that, old man. A rumpus just now would Indeed, it did not escape Kirk that there be fatal. We couldn't spite Jackson more was a very wide-spread feeling of unrest and than by acting like lambs. Don't you see, dissatisfaction in the ranks of the Fortunas, old boy, that he would jump at the chance as the men called themselves. A fault- of backing out-would welcome it? Mrs. finding spirit was engendered by Jackson's Hitchcock would side with him—and then dictatorial manners and exasperating petty where should we be?” tyrannies; and as with all mobs, demagogues “There's old Westbrook,” said Beale. arose to organize personal parties and fan the “Westbrook and Zedtwitz. Why shouldn't flames. The most noticeable of these was a they carry it on-the pair of them?” fellow named Beale, a lanky Australian, with "It's the old lady's money, you know." a most wonderful vocabulary of vituperation. “Westbrook has barrels of his own." He was a passed master in his nefarious “But I doubt whether he would consent business, and got together a very substantial to assume the outlay already made. Think following. It was he who suggested the what all this must have cost! She would be vote—with the evident intention of heading too vindictive to make him a present of it. the ticket. This undercurrent of politics The ship's her property, Beale. Don't for- and wire-pulling was very distasteful to get that.” Kirk. He foresaw fresh difficulties and fresh “There's something in that,” assented complications. When all, as he knew, was Beale. “But my stars, Kirk, it galls me to trembling in the balance, it seemed a shame have Jackson put in all his little pets to strut to provoke further troubles, which, so far the quarter-deck and domineer over us. from thwarting Jackson, would be likely to There's Haines now, bragging as how he's aid him in his desire to wreck the expedition to be first officer. The pasty-faced little in port. squirt, I'd like to take him by the scruff of the Kirk said this to Beale very plainly when neck and break his back. And the other one day the plausible Australian drew him favorites and toadies, all promoted and brass- to one side and attempted to enlist him in bound, while we'll have to pulley-haul their the ranks of the rebels. Beale was no fool, dirty ropes, and 'Sir' them, and take their in spite of his officiousness and conceit, and tomfool orders!” Kirk was surprised at the impression he man- Kirk knew Haines, and disliked him pro- aged to make on him. In fact, Kirk turned foundly. He was an ex-yacht officer of the the tables completely, and in a quiet way funky species, who aped the supercilious lectured Beale severely. manners of the class he had served; a drawl- “What do you want to do?” he demanded. ing red-headed nincompoop, with irritating “Kill the expedition and send us all home airs and graces. Kirk's face showed his dis- whipped out? That's a fine idea, isn't it- gust at such a creature being put over them. because you don't like the coffee, and have “I care for Haines as little as you do,” he discovered Jackson to be forty different kinds admitted, “but the only right thing is to obey of a wild ass? I tell you, Beale, we fellows orders and go ahead.” on the lower deck ought to pull together and The Australian ruminated. show a good spirit. It's to our interest to do “Well, I'll go slow, anyhow," he said, with it. What are we to gain by upsetting the unexpected submission. “That's the sense of apple-cart? Now see here, the boys all look talking things over beforehand. They aren't up to you, and go a good deal by what you all as cool as you are, Kirkpatrick. But say. This is a mighty critical moment in you're right-you're right. It's no good our affairs, and it rests with you more than burning down the factory to spite the owners, you think to make or mar the whole expe- is it? Well, we'll see," and he walked off, dition.” looking thoughtful. 110 Everybody's Magazine Apparently he had taken part of Kirk's who in the least way satisfied it-except warning to heart. At any rate, there was less Haines, and a few other particular pets—the whispering and muttering in corners, and swollen old fellow warmed to him mightily. Beale's name was more seldom mentioned. It made Kirk feel a good deal of a hypocrite. Kirk was uneasy, nevertheless, and de- But he was human, too; and he slightly bated with himself whether he ought not to modified some of his first opinions. report the conversation to Westbrook. But He little realized to what all this was tend- he hesitated to add this new weight of trouble ing. One day, as he stood to attention in to the old man's already overheavy burdens, front of Jackson's desk, the latter laid his and determined that he would wait until hand on a closely written list of names with a later on to put him on his guard. humorous pretense of screening them from During these concluding days of the For- view. tuna's preparation, there occurred another in- “No peeping,” he exclaimed. “This is a cident that demands attention. Occasional state paper!” ly in the course of their work, questions arose Kirk smiled vaguely. He did not know that required a reference to Captain Jackson. what the joke was, but it was discipline to This was the more necessary as the captain look amused. seldom visited the ship, except after hours. “You might happen to see your own The disinclination of the crew to rise and name," went on the captain, pompously jocu- stand at attention as he passed was the lar. “Oh, yes—and in a good place, I can reason for his keeping aloof. He attached tell you. I am making up the list of officers, an inordinate value to this formality, and petty officers, and leading seamen!” after repeated failures to enforce it with Kirk's heart gave a bound. He could tell man-of-war rigidity, he had at length retired by the captain's air that he had been marked from the contest in disgust. There was a out for promotion. For the first time he general tendency, from Crawshaw down, to realized that Jackson's good-will might mean shirk the task of carrying him messages, and substantial favors. Strange to say, it had submitting to his overbearing and insulting not occurred to him before that he was a manners. Kirk, as a newcomer, was slyly "pet.” victimized by the little engineer; and as the “You're very good, sir," he said. “I-I former made no objection he gradually be- —had no anticipation of this. I looked for came the messenger between the mechanical nothing better than not being left behind.” staff and their majestic commander. Often “Kirkpatrick,” said the captain senten- he had to beard the lion in his den three or tiously, “the man who learns to take orders four times in the course of one day. is qualifying himself to give them. When Now Kirk was as little in love with Jackson this is made public I fancy you will be sur- as was anybody else, but he was free from the prised.” vanity of considering himself degraded by “Thank you, sir,” said Kirk. obeying his superior's orders. Privately, he thought it silly to make such mountains of Kirk kept this wonderful piece of intelli- fuss over trifles; but he was there to do what gence to himself. He hardly knew what to he was told, and for the time being to sub- hope for. He shrank from setting his am- ordinate himself to the will of others. Be- bition too high, dreading to disappoint him- sides that, being a gentleman, it was natural self. What he wanted, of course, was to be for him to be polite, even to people that he near Vera; to have the privilege of addressing did not like. her; to share, however humbly, the life of the It all led to the extraordinary result of the after-guard. Quartermaster, gunner, boat- captain's taking a fancy to him. His Majes- swain, storekeeper-he ran over all the possi- ty unbent. His Majesty, accustomed to a bilities repeatedly with an anxious particu- great deal of veiled insolence and a very per- larity. functory deference, appreciated the genuine- At length the time came for all these teas- ness of Kirk's courtesy. He was insufferably ing speculations to be set at rest. One blaz- vain and arrogant—but very human. He ing noon, as they were tramping back to grew to like Kirk's open face, his agreeable dinner, they were diverted by a great paper voice, and his alert, respectful manner. poster, six feet by four, that had made an Here was his man-of-war ideal, and as Kirk unexpected appearance in front of the head- was the only one of a hundred and eighteen quarters tent. Here was the list for all to The Adventurer 111 read, in big black letters an inch high. It the hope of being taken. He had counted was instantly surrounded by a jostling throng, on it with all of a sick man's stubbornness pushing and shoving to get close to it. There and irrationality. And now the decree had was a confused hum of voices—of ejacula- 'gone forth, and he was condemned to remain tions, jeers, protests, and growling notes of behind! disappointment and chagrin. Kirk elbowed . his way in. He was in the throes of an CHAPTER XV overmastering excitement. He dared not ask what he had been given. He expected every THREE days later the Fortuna was ready instant that some one would call out: “Say, to start. Her enormous and varied cargo Kirk! you're one of the quartermasters"-or was all on board. Her water-tanks were whatever it was. On some of the returning full. Her accommodations were complete faces he seemed to detect a savage resent for the fifty-five human beings who com- ment against himself-envy, anger, contempt. prised her officers, passengers, and crew. On But perhaps that was only fancy. He got the upper deck, lashed securely in place, were closer and closer. The letters were swim- a pair of spare wheels, several spare axles, and ming before him, obscured by shoulders and a dozen spare springs of gigantic proportions heads. What if his name were not there at -all by way of reserve in case of accident all? No, that was incredible—had not Jack to the trucks on which the fabric of the son said ? ship was supported. In addition to this Ah, here it was! unwieldy mass, there were forty specially constructed bamboo-cages, compactly and LAND-SHIP FORTUNA. powerfully built, which were intended, in con- junction with jacks, to be used in making Directing Council: MRS. POUL-' repairs to the sustaining mechanism. The TENEY HITCHCOCK, MR. EZRA H. weight of the ship could be thrown on these WESTBROOK, DR. C. VON ZEDT- hollow dice while axles and wheels were re- moved, or broken springs were replaced. WITZ. Abaft the foremast were two large automo- Captain, HORATIO H. B. JACKSON. biles, also lashed to the deck, about which there was as much conjecture and chatter as First Officer, PERCY HAINES. there was about the mysterious purpose of the expedition itself. They were big French cars, Second Officer, LEWIS KIRKPAT with an unusually high clearance, and racing RICK. bodies. They presented an incongruous ap- pearance in a scene so wild and strange-SO Kirk got no further. “Second officer, Lewis emphatic an emblem of civilization in a say- Kirkpatrick. Second officer, Lewis Kirkpat- age landscape as trackless as the sea. What rick.” In his wildest imaginings he had never was their purpose? Were they to serve as soared so high. It put him in the cabin-in life-boats in case of need? The means of the aristocracy of the after-guard-made him getting news back in the event of disaster? one of those glorified beings who might meet T hese perplexing questions were answered Vera Westbrook on terms almost of equality. by a phrase that was fast becoming a com- He might sit by her side, speak to her with monplace: out reproach, share her radiant companion- “Well, we shall soon know now!” ship. Kirk was dazed with delight. He was aroused only by the sight of St. Aubyn's Tuesday, the day set for their departure, thin, screwed-up, woebegone face. broke stormy and threatening. The barom- “Oh, chum,” he exclaimed, “they've gone eter had been steadily going down, and the and left me out! I'm not to go at all. I've prolonged spell of good weather had come got to stay in this rotten hole, and kick myto a sudden end. The wind was whistling heels while you fellows sail away!” through the rigging of the Fortuna with the Kirk attempted to comfort him, but there strength of a rising gale, and the loosened was not much that could be said. St. Aubyn sails bellied and thundered in the blast. It was pitiably upset. It had cost him agony had been intended to make something of a to keep at work, but there was heroic stuff gala of that momentous morning — with in the fellow, and he had been sustained by speeches, the firing of salutes, and the dress- 112 Everybody's Magazine ing of the ship in flags. At the right moment, “J. Henshaw!" amid cheers and salvos, she was majestic “Here!” ally to move away, dipping her ensign in a “C. T. Hildebrand!” stately farewell as she rolled south on her “Here!” perilous voyage. “Thomas Mackay!” The reality, however, was sadly different. “Here!” The wind had veered into the north and And so it proceeded, amid the rush and was blowing great guns. Squall after squall thunder of the gale, the ship shaking under rose black to windward, and burst over the the repeated buffets, and the men steadying ship in torrential downpours of rain. Every- themselves by the shrouds and backstays. thing was wet and cold and dripping, and the It was a stirring sight—the storm-tossed hair, lash of the storm fell mercilessly on the oil- the brawny arms folded across Herculean skinned figures clustered about the decks. chests, the bronzed and bearded faces, the Felicidad was half under water, and a dozen unflinching eyes, the universal look of hardi- tents had been blown down, with the prom- hood, recklessness, and courage. Here were ise of more to follow. To leeward there no boys, no graybeards, no weaklings. All were incessant flashes of sheet-lightning, zig- were tried and seasoned men in the very zagging the horizon with streaks of fire. flower of their age—broad-shouldered, deep- Everything was in confusion. Inevitable chested, muscular, and stalwart—the pick of occasions for delay cropped up at the last ten thousand. No ship afloat ever had carried moment. No one was very sure, indeed, a finer crew. The pride of leadership surged that the attempt would be made at all. within Kirk. He vowed that he would show The captain sulked in his cabin, his dignity himself worthy of his promotion, and earn insulted by some unguarded word of West- the respect and confidence of his erstwhile brook's. Emissaries of peace moved back comrades. and forth, arguing, explaining, smoothing The captain was on the bridge, speaking- down. Kirk, in raincoat and sou'wester, trumpet in hand. At his right stood Haines. paced up and down the bridge, waiting im- Behind them, well out of the way, were West- patiently for orders. The gale was in their brook, Mrs. Hitchcock, Vera, McCann, Dr. favor, and he grudged every minute that held Phillips, and von Zedtwitz-six black, cling- them back. ing figures in mackintoshes. There was ex- Beside the ship was the melancholy, be- pectancy on every face-anxiety, excitement, draggled group of those who had to remain foreboding. At last the Fortuna was to be behind. Soaked to the skin, bunched to- tried, and that under adverse and dangerous gether for protection, the sick and ailing sit- conditions. Was she, after all, a gigantic ting on packing-cases in sullen defiance of the folly—a preposterous conception, doomed to doctor's orders to remain in camp—they pre- the most mortifying of failures? A few min- sented a picture of misery and desolation utes would determine. not easily to be described. In vain they were “I have to report that the roll is called, told to go back, and try to keep their town sir, and that all hands answered their names." from blowing into space. They listened apa- “Very good, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Get the thetically and shook their heads. The only gangway up, and lash it.” luxury that remained to them was disobedi- “Very good, sir.” ence. They stuck together like sheep, and For the first time Jackson was beginning passively defied the speaking-trumpet. They to show to advantage. He seemed to put by were determined to see the last of the For- that meaner self—that touchy, cross-grained, tuna, to share at least in her departure, even half-hearted Jackson that they had learned if Felicidad were laid flat. to know and hate—and asserted a side of his A quartermaster mounted the bridge, bear- nature that had hitherto been unsuspected. ing a paper in his hand. Standing there on the bridge, conspicuous “Captain's orders, sir—you're to call the and masterful, he dominated the situation; roll, hoist in the gangway, and see all clear his commanding figure, his harsh and inci- forward." sive voice, his cool, resourceful air-all in- Kirk went forward and roused the fore- spired confidence, and compelled some of his castle. The men came pouring up, and bitterest enemies to an unwilling admiration. grouped themselves about him, joined by The Fortuna lay in a fairly good position the cooks and stewards from the ship's waist. for the start. It had not been thought nec- The Adventurer 113 essary to kedge her round to make a fair and was likely to rip free and fly away. At wind of the gale. It was blowing enough every gust Kirk thought to see the last of it. abaſt the beam to insure her against capsiz- But it was new and stout, and held firmly to ing; and once she was moving she could eas- the bolt-ropes. Then to his amazement the ily be set on a better course. That is, if she deck beneath him began to shake and pitch. did move. By George, they were moving! Bump, bump, Seven men were sent aft to the wheel-six bump—with men slipping and staggering all to steer, and the seventh to be in speaking- about him. But he had no time to look tube communication with the foretop and over the weather-rail. His eves were fixed the bridge. Haines was despatched aloft on the captain. He steadied himself against with a couple of hands to con the ship. the mast. Kirk was engaged in taking treble reefs in "Pull, you beggars, pull!” he roared, as the foresail and foretopsail-no easy matter, the long cue of men flopped over, and the for the loosened sails were caught by the sheet slackened in their hands. He ran in gale, and beat furiously as the men strug- among them himself, and laid his own weight gled with them. The silk was new and to the rope. Four or five others jumped to coarse, and the wet had made it like sheet help him. Everyone was shouting and steel. It was only by taking advantage of laughing with exultation. Kirk had a mo- every lull that the task was at last accom- mentary view of the flat wet prairie speeding plished. The captain bellowed to them again by-pools of muddy water—the diminishing and again through his speaking-trumpet to crowd behind, waving their caps. make haste. The windward sky was black- “That will do, Mr. Kirkpatrick!” ening with another squall, and he was im “Make her fast, boys! Now, you lubbers, patient to get away before it could burst. what are you doing with that sheet? Here, “All ready, sir!" yelled Kirk. like this!” “Man the foretopsail-halyards!” Then, at last, he was at liberty to see what “Sheet home! Hoist away!” was going on. The sails shook and thundered. Reeling across the deck he attained the “Tend the braces! Vast hoisting! Belay! shrouds, and sprang up the ratlines. Yes, Man the jib-halyards! Clear away the down- indeed, she was moving! Her ponderous haul! Hoist away! Belay!” wheels were sending up a spray of mud and The topsail threatened to blow itself out earth, and every time the great hull dipped of the bolt-ropes. It seemed incredible that by the head there was a slush as of some it could withstand the terrific strain. The mighty automobile a thousand times magni- Fortuna did not move an inch; but her fied. Under that press of sail the Fortuna wheels, deeply rutted in the soft earth, quiv- pounded on with a wild and lumbering ve- ered with a sort of life. The vast fabric locity that brought the heart to the mouth. creaked, and the backstays tautened omi Lurching, groaning, discordantly protesting nously. It was a moment of suspense, of ag- in every part of her fabric, and with a full ony. Something had to give. Kirk held his gale behind her, she few onward with an breath, and waited for the topsail to split to indescribable jarring and bumping that ribbons. seemed at every instant to threaten her de- “Quick with the foresail! Up with her, struction. Braced against the rigging, hold- Mr. Kirkpatrick!” ing on for dear life, Kirk had the startling Thirty men laid hold of the throat- and sensation of scudding over the prairie. As peak-halyards, and hoisted the sail with a the squall burst the Fortuna freshened her rush. The boom crashed to leeward. The pace, and dashed before it, amid rain and sail reverberated deafeningly, drowning for a lightning, at a speed so terrific that there time even the gale itself. Up, up it went went up a cry to shorten sail. But the cap- with a lusty yo-heave-oh. The throat-hal- tain, swaying on the bridge, and searching yards were belayed. The loose peak was the lee horizon ahead with his glass, held on lashing to and fro, spilling and filling with a undismayed. furious noise. It was stubbornly conquered, Behind them were the tents of Felicidad, and got into position. fitfully seen and half lost again in the murk “Haul aft the fore-sheet!” and gloom. The poor deserted fellows had The sail resisted, giving way only inch by shrunk to mere specks. One of them was inch. It carried the weight of the storm, waving a tiny flag on a stick--the only at- 114 Everybody's Magazine tempt to celebrate in any way the departure of disaster-a hoarse and fitful murmur-as of the Fortuna. A pitiful leave-taking, though any moment they might tear them- that widow's mite of bunting—hardly more selves free. Jackson, with the speaking- than a striped and gaudy handkerchief. trumpet to his lips, attempted in vain to make But the sight of it struck a responsive chord himself heard above the storm. Hardly a in the captain's bosom. He raised the word could be understood. But his con- speaking-trumpet to his lips. vulsed face and gesticulating hand showed “Mr. Kirkpatrick ?” that something was amiss. He gave the “Yes, sir!" trumpet to one of the men clinging to the rail “Break out the ensign at the main!” beside him, and made unmistakable gestures Kirk bellowed a repetition of the order. A to take in sail. quartermaster staggered aft to get the flag Kirk slipped down the rigging, and routed from the chart-room rack. Another cleared out his men from the nooks where they had the signal-halyards. The little ball went up taken shelter. He let fly the foretopsail- swiftly and jerkily, all eyes watching it. halyards, and allowed the sail to beat and Then, as it reached the truck, it was broken thunder while he applied himself to getting and blew out its vivid colors to the storm. down the foresail. He put every man he It may be that it was not seen by those they could muster on the clew-rope and soon had were leaving; but the sight of the Stars and the great sail on deck, where it gave them a Stripes to the Fortunas themselves, various lively tussle as it bellied and floundered. The as were their nationalities, was salutary and forecastle men hauled down and stowed the inspiring. If Jackson could bother about a jib. The Fortuna came to a gentle stand- mere flag why should they be in such a sweat still. Her deck became solid under foot, and for their lives? There was no longer any the relief after the peculiar jarring movement mutinous outcry to shorten sail. A pipe or that baffled every attempt to walk was in- two appeared. There was a scramble to find describably welcome. sheltered places. Men grinned at one an- Kirk strode aft to see what was the matter, other, and even laughed outright as they were after first clewing up the foretopsail with a slung hither and thither by the violent and dozen hands and then ordering them aloft to sudden movements of the ship. furl it. And all the while, she held on her way, The captain met him at the break of the the men struggling at the wheel, the sails poop. straining madly; the wind howling; the in “Very smartly done,” he said approvingly. defatigable wheels racing and plunging as “Has anything happened, sir?" they cut into the sodden earth, and tore a “No, it's only those speaking-tubes. Craw- path to the southward. The ship yawed shaw will have to do something with them. wildly. Kirk mounted half-way up the mast. The thing gives only a little squeak. Haines His first feeling of dread had given way to a up there is no more use to me than if he were strange elation. It was magnificent thus to in a balloon. What if we ran into a hum- be borne along. Danger was forgotten in mock, or struck a gully! Find Crawshaw, the exhilaration, the excitement, the thrilling and send him to me." delight of that mighty rush before the gale. Kirk turned away, only to meet the little Fear had disappeared. Standing there be- engineer himself. He was beaming from ear tween earth and sky he gave himself up to to ear, and this in spite of the fact that he the enjoyment of a sublime and extraordinary looked half drowned, and the coat was half spectacle: below him, the crouching figures of ripped off his back. his companions, the careening decks, the whirl "Isn't she splendid!” he cried. “I've of those steel-rimmed wheels; before him, the been logging her, and would you believe it, vast emptiness of the plains, bounded only by she's been doing seventeen!” the sky; behind him, the fierce alternations The captain grimly brought him back to of haze, gloom, and driving squalls, with rifts earth. of wintry light, and bleak, passing vistas of a “We've been running blindfold,” he said. tempestuous horizon. “Heaven only knows what we've escaped! Lightning forked and flashed, accompanied See here, Crawshaw, you've got to fix those by ear-splitting detonations. The heavens speaking-tubes better. We can't trust our opened. The close-reefed sails strained furi- lives to a tin squeal. Call them up aft, and ously in the bolt-ropes with a menacing note see for yourself how rotten bad they are!" The Adventurer 115 Jackson's scornful and faultfinding tone teeth-chattering motion recommenced. The angered Crawshaw. He pursed his lips to Fortuna plunged forward with an increasing gether, and without another word went over acceleration, bumping and quivering--lung- to the apparatus. ing, rolling, and sending up a spray of clods “How long will it take you?” demanded and dirt. Once more she was off, and every the captain. one on board braced and settled himself for Crawshaw reflected. the nerve-racking ordeal that had to last till "I'll have to rig up a sort of telephone sundown. harness," he returned at length. “One for Eight bells were struck. a man here, one for the foretop, and another Kirk, gazing aloft, perceived Haines way- for the wheel. Say an hour. Yes, all of an ing his hand to him. They had now to hour.” change places. Kirk, with the port watch, “Mr. Kirkpatrick!” was to relieve the starboard. He sent his “Yes, sir." two quartermasters, together with five other “Tell the cook to start his fire, and serve hands, to take the wheel; two more to the out hot coffee and biscuits to all hands. bridge; while he, with Phelps and Haggitty, And- both dependable men with some sea experi- “Yes, sir.” ence, laid aloft to keep their watch in the “Get that storm trysail out of the sail- foretop. locker, bend it, and be ready to run it up!” Haines and his two companions were very “Very good, sir." glad to come down. They were wet to the “Oh, I say," put in Crawshaw, “I wish bone, and so chilled and cramped that their you'd tell Gibbs and Henderson to look over hands could hardly hold to the ratlines. To the trucks, and see how the springs are stand- make matters worse, they were all more or ing it. Tell them also to examine the jour- less seasick with the violent whipping move- nals, and make sure they're lubricating.” ment of the mast. Kirk watched them de- “Yes, you see to that, too, Mr. Kirk scend with some anxiety, and breathed a sigh patrick," added the captain, with jealous of relief when they safely reached the deck. authority. Phelps was put into the harness that Craw- Kirk darted down the ladder and hastened shaw had improvised. Kirk spoke through about giving orders. The galley stovepipe him. began to smoke. The storm-sail was bro “Quartermaster, do you hear me?” ken out and bent. Kirk moved hither and “Yes, sir.” thither, an energetic second mate-routing “Quite plainly?” out skulkers, directing gear to be coiled, “Yes, sir.” tarpaulins lashed, and the disordered decks “What's your course?” straightened up. He asked and obtained “Sou’-sou’-east.” the captain's permission to run life-lines fore "Is she hard to hold?” and-aft, so that when they should be again “Very difficult, sir. Bucks like a bronco. under way the men might be able to move the Jerks the fellows off their pins, sir." length of the ship without being spilled into “Shall I send you two more hands?”. the scuppers. He sent one of the mechanics “We'd be very glad to get them. Could to report on the chains of the steering-gear, use four, I think.” and find out how they were standing the “All right-I'll see to it." strain that had been put upon them. Busied Then he called up the bridge. with these and innumerable other details the “Hello! Bridge! Can you hear me hour passed swiftly for him, and he was al- plainly?” most surprised when the orders came down “Every word, sir.” to make sail again. “Tell Captain Jackson that the helmsmen The gale was still raging, but their second are short-handed, and that they need four start was less beset with terrors than the first. more hands." They knew now for certain what the Fortuna “Aye, aye, sir." was capable of. The storm-trysail, too, was Kirk took up the binoculars that Haines sent up first, and the wind being now on the had left him and swept the horizon. port quarter, it steadied the ship, and as she From that great altitude the limitless, deso- gathered way, relieved the two other sails late plains seemed as flat as billiard-boards. that followed. The sickening, jouncing, It required very close inspection to pick out 116 Everybody's Magazine hollows and inequalities of surface. But by into his bunk. Sleep, of course, he could dint of searching, and aided by Haggitty, not. The motion was too racking, too vio- whose eyes were sharper than the glass, Kirk lent for even the pretense. But he could gradually learned to detect bad places, and close his eyes, and alleviate to some degree to avoid them. Haines had simply allowed the fatigue of body and nerves so long kept the ship to roll over everything, lickety-split, at tension. bump, bump, bump, with a slavish adher- The day's work was practically over; for ance to his course as though any deviation although it would fall to him to stand the from it were a crime. But Kirk tried to ease second dog-watch from six to eight, and then the running all he could. Under his direction the middle anchor-watch from midnight to the vessel yawed to the right and the left, with four, it would not be in the same arduous not only some increase of speed, but a most circumstances. The ship-blessed thought noticeable improvement in her motion, -would be still; and there would be no “Foretop, there!”. course to watch, no sails to worry over. “Aye, aye, captain.” After a while—a long while-he heard the “I'm going below, and turn over the com tramp of feet overhead; hoarse, inarticulate mand to the second officer.” cries; the pounding of blocks; the fury of “Very good, sir." loosened sails thundering in the wind. The “You are to call me if the gale freshens.” heavy, lurching, exasperating movement “Shall do so, sir.” abruptly ceased. Kirk flung himself out at “How is it to windward?” full length, his tormented frame free at last “Seems all clear, sir." to lie at ease. Oh, the glorious relaxation “Well, keep her going." of weary muscles! How soothing the pillow “Aye, aye, sir.” that supported his tired head! His eyes Kirk, leaning from his dizzy perch, watched closed. Respite had come at last. The the captain disappear. It gave him a strange long, long day was over. sense of loneliness-of paralyzing helpless- He was awakened a little later by Haines. ness verging on fear. The whole responsi- He sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. Where bility of the ship was now upon his shoulders, was he? He blinked under the light of and he had no one to rely on but himself. Haines's lantern, wondering dully at the un- He took a deep breath and pulled himself familiarity of the cabin. Then his recollec- together. But if command had its terrors, tion returned, and he jumped out, getting it had also its delights. Swaying there in the down on his knees to search for his rubber sky, with one arm clasped about the mast, boots. Haines was divesting himself of his he was thrilled to think that his will was now oilskins, and was raining water all over the supreme. On his skill, judgment, and cau- floor. He was surly and uncommunicative, tion was staked the safety of all. He re- growling out that it was a beastly dirty night doubled his vigilance, and kept his eyes fixed when Kirk asked him how it was on deck. on the unrolling savannas before him. Kirk went up on to the bridge, and added his hearty agreement to the description. The storm was blowing with unabated strength, CHAPTER XVI with now and then a lull when rain would drown the decks and overflow the scuppers. By four o'clock his watch was over. It A black, wild night it was, wet and raw, with was blowing as hard as ever, and the bleak, a deafening note of menace as the great gusts wild day was darkening fast. But the cap- burst against the ship. tain's orders were to press her to the utmost, Pacing up and down the bridge, Kirk and take every advantage of the favoring finally wore out the two hours of his dog- gale. The search-light was lighted, and its watch. Eight bells were struck, and he went dazzling rays were projected far ahead, open below, happy to think that dinner was await- ing before them a path of weird and startling ing him. The main cabin was brightly brilliancy. Kirk worked his way along the lighted; and in contrast with the desolation life-lines to the after-companion, and stag- he had just quitted, it appeared extraordina- gered below to the cabin that he had been rily comfortable, cozy, and homelike. The allotted to share with Haines. He managed long center-table had been cleared, except to change his clothing, and then, all dressed for a solitary place that had been set apart except for his boots, he wedged himself for him. At the end an American flag had The Adventurer 117 been laid crosswise as though in preparation “They insist on knowing where we are for a religious service; and about it were going. If they are not told they threaten gathered Jackson, Westbrook, Mrs. Hitch- to put back the ship. The whole conspiracy cock, and Dr. von Zedtwitz, all with their was hatched in Felicidad before we started— heads together, talking in low and anxious Treacherous of them, wasn't it?-and so tones. In their absorption they took no disloyal and underhanded! And the horrid notice of Kirk, who gazed at them curious things want to know what they are to be ly beginning to understand that some very paid.” disagreeable matter was under discussion. “It's that fellow Beale," cried Kirk. “He Their excitement, their heightened color, sounded me himself only a week ago, the their angry and emphatic gestures filled him rascally sea-lawyer. I might have known with vague misgivings. Westbrook held a that he was going to spring something on us. crumpled paper in his hand to which he sev- If I were Jackson I'd put him in irons, and eral times referred with flashing eyes and by George, if they want volunteers to do it, fierce whispering. I'll- " In a corner McCann and Phillips were “There's more-listen. They say that pretending to play a game of chess, but it Jackson and Mr. Haines have to resign, and was evident that they were covertly watching that they will elect their own officers.” the others. They, too, looked perturbed and “Their own officers, eh? Oh, I see- ill at ease. Near them was Crawshaw, Captain Beale! A nice thing that would be! hunched over a book, in so intense a preoc- Well, I hope they gave them a stiff answer.” cupation that he seemed oblivious to the “No, they didn't give them anything. We general appearance of alarm and mystery. can't fight them, Mr. Kirkpatrick. How Vera was absent, and Kirk's heart fell a little can we? There were thirty-seven names as he looked about for her in vain. signed in a big, round circle. Papa has The steward brought him a plate of soup. asked them to come in and talk it over. He Kirk swallowed it ravenously. He had not is only waiting for you to finish your dinner known until then how famished he was. The to have them all in here. I don't know soup was followed by a curry of mutton, and what he has decided to do. He would not some admirably cooked rice; and Kirk was tell me when I asked him.” busily getting away with these when he heard Kirk pushed away his plate. a rustle behind him. It was Vera, gliding "I'm done,” he said. “I can't sit here and to the seat beside him. She was very pale, eat with half a mutiny on our hands. Stew- and she leaned her chin on her hand as she ard, clear away. Ought I to go over and turned and looked at him. She was smiling, speak to them? Would it be wrong, do you and her soft, lustrous eyes did not drop as think?” they met his own. It was Kirk who faltered “No, no, let them alone. They're having under that tender scrutiny, oppressed as he an awful quarrel. I believe the captain is often was, and somehow hurt within, by the secretly pleased at the deadlock. He wants spell of her beauty. It was ever a fresh rev- to do the talking, but papa won't let him. elation, a fresh torment, filling him with a Papa is for compromise and reasonableness, jealous rapture that grudged even the sight and I believe he suspects that Jackson would of her to another. intentionally try to make things impossible. "Have you heard the news?” she asked, The old lady taunts papa with being weak, in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper. and seems to think all that's necessary is for “News? What news?” her to get up and give everybody a good “There's trouble forward.” scolding.” “Trouble- ?" “Hadn't we better get out of the way?” “Hush-not so loud. The men have sent said Kirk. “It makes me fidgety to sit here in a round robin. A deputation brought it and feel that I am prolonging the suspense.” in at dinner-time-four of them-that's what V era assented, and they both rose and papa has in his hand. Wasn't it too bad, went over to the side of the cabin, seating when we were all so happy, so delighted themselves near the chess-players. It was the and the whole thing so tremendously suc- signal for the others to arrange themselves cessful?" formally at the head of the table, a grim little “But I don't understand. What do they party, with the light of battle in their eyes. want?" The steward was sent on deck with a message. 118 Everybody's Magazine He had been gone hardly a minute before the “But,” expostulated Beale. bell began to toll on the bridge. It had a “I'll leave the speaker to the good sense disquieting, alarming sound. All talk and of you men,” interrupted Westbrook fiercely. whispering ceased. There was a general air "Such language is intolerable, and can only of anxiety. Then the men filed in silently, make matters worse. This is no time for as though daunted by the brilliancy of the personalities and insults. You have sub- great cabin, and by their own presumption in mitted a proposal-well, we meet it with a invading it. An instinctive respect kept them counter-proposal. That's the question for standing. They massed together about the the meeting-and the only one." mainmast, some with folded arms, others Beale tried to speak, but was dragged back, with their hands in their pockets, others struggling and expostulating, by his comrades. lounging carelessly against the bulkheads There were shouts of: "Shut up, Beale! with an affected bravado-a formidable Put a stopper on him! What Mr. West- crowd, filling nearly half the cabin-brawny, brook says is right!” The big Australian muscular, and defiant. subsided as he saw his men turning against Mr. Westbrook rose to his feet. His man him, and folded his arms across his breast in ner was that of a director at some share- an aggressive submission. holders' meeting-dignified, calm, courteous. “Now, gentlemen," continued Westbrook, “Gentlemen,” he began, in a deep, reson "we shall tell you everything, if in return you ant voice, “I have here a petition signed by pledge yourselves to support our officers will- thirty-seven members of this expedition. It ingly and cheerfully. Yes or no, if you asks for some things that are possible, and please.” others that are impossible. We count on your T here was a shout of assent that swelled good sense and forbearance to make some into cheers. The cabin rang with hurrahs. kind of compromise possible. You cannot go Beale, flushed and scowling, seemed alone in on without us—we cannot go on without you. withholding his consent. He stirred uneasily There must be concessions on either side. on his feet, and his lips tightened as though It is inconceivable that a scheme so boldly in mute protest. projected, so laboriously carried out, so aus- “Let us hear from the nays,” exclaimed piciously begun-should be permitted to per- Westbrook, fixing a withering glance on him. ish in ignominy. You wish to know the ob- “I have not heard Mr. Beale's decision. ject of our search? Well, you shall be told!” Considering that he is our principal critic, his There was a hum of eager expectancy. answer is important." Heads craned forward. The loungers “I'm with the crowd,” returned the Aus- straightened up. tralian insolently. “If they are ready to put “But on one condition." up with— " Westbrook stopped, and regarded them “You're getting away from the point," steadily. cried Westbrook, interrupting him. “You “We will brook no interference with the mean that you give your word of honor with- control of this vessel. Captain Jackson will out any reservation whatever, to obey Cap- remain in command, Mr. Haines will remain tain Jackson and the other officers we have first officer. We expect from every man of appointed? Is that so?” you his individual word of honor to obey “It is, if you carry out your part of the them loyally and unquestioningly. If you bargain.” are not prepared to concede this, the expedi “We are ready to do that now!” tion is at an end, and we shall return to “All right then,” said Beale, in a choking Felicidad and disband.” sort of voice. “Hold on a minute!” cried Beale, pressing “Then, gentlemen, I shall call on Dr. belligerently to the front, and raising his von Zedtwitze to put you in possession of the hand for attention. “We don't think that facts that induced us to embark on this costly Jackson is a fit and suitable person to have and hazardous undertaking." charge of us. Not only is he no seaman, but In a profound silence, broken only by the his inflated and overbearing ways " droning of the gale above, Dr. von Zedtwitz “Silence!” cried Westbrook. “Captain rose, and solemnly regarded the assembled Jackson is not to be discussed. Another crew of the Fortuna. With his blond beard word, and I'll wash my hands of the whole that forked into fierce tusks; his deep-set and affair." piercing eyes; his strong, harsh features, sug- The Adventurer 119 gestive of a mind as rugged as his face, he account. I early recovered some of my in- was a solid and impressive figure. struments, a few of my books, my chronom- "Gentlemen,” he began, without preamble, eter watch. I was enabled to make obser- “fourteen years ago, under instructions from vations thereby, greatly to the astonishment the Imperial Scientific Society of Heidelberg, of the natives and to my own satisfaction. I had the honor of guiding a party from the I laid these observations for safe-geeping in city of Quito into the unexplored region of the the only segure place I had-my head, gen- southern llanos. After many hardships and tlemen. I made systematic exploration of misadventures, we were one day set upon by this ancient and half-buried city. a band of those savage aboriginals that had “There was one building in particular, of made this gountry the dread of the explorer, prodigious extent, and of notable and gloomy and the despair of those ardent thirsters after splendor, on which I goncentrated the ma- geographical, anthropological, and etymolog- jor part of my efforts. Deep below in the ical knowledge, to whose efforts, in every ground was a labyrinth of subterranean glime, we owe so sincere a debt of scientific chambers, empty, dark, and given over to gratitude. They stripped us of everything, bats and reptiles. They had so long been though they spared our lives, and treated us exposed to the ravages of my friends, the in other ways not ungindly. Unfortunately, Piapocos, that naught remained of their thinking to beguile them and win their friend- primitive occupancy. It occurred to me to ship, I exerted myself to amuse them with chart them carefully, in the expectation that, my flute. It was a fadal action. I succeeded they being laid out in a mathematical form only too well. My companions they left, but of remarkable strictness and regularity, I me they carried with them away. Professors might in this manner recover the architec- Engelhardt and Blumm contrived to retrace tural scheme, and know where to look for their steps and reach the outposts of civiliza- other chambers that possibly had been hidden tion. But I, on the bare back of a horse, was and lost for forty centuries. led by my captors into the recesses of their “I was rewarded beyond my hopes. This unchartered country, playing the flute for seeming labyrinth, when measured and them to dance when we rested from the chase, drawn to scale, showed precision and exact- or camped at night on the naked prairie. ness. I had now in my hand the key to the “I was carried, in the gourse of time, to a whole; and there remained only the difficulty place called Cassiquiare, situated on rising of removing débris--which was, however, an ground to the southeast-at the first break almost insurmountable one-and of tunnel- of the prairie into low hills, which by grada ing to where I was gonfident of striking the tions assume the character of mountains. gontinuation of a certain passage. Ah, gen- Imagine my sensations on finding here the tlemen, it was an undertaging such as few remains of one of those vast and mysterious men would ever have attempted. I had no cities that antedate the Christian era, and tools but my hands, no helper save a female. were possibly contemporaneous with Baby- But I was sustained by the gonviction of ul- lon and Tyre. Yes, my friends-enormous timate success. I was as positive as though I buildings of an antique epoch, moldering stood before a door, and had only to achieve in decay, overgrown with jungle, in many its opening. cases mere shapeless ruins lost to all form “We broke through. We entered, as I had the wreck of a perished and forgotten civiliza- thought we should, a replica of the side al- tion. One could not move in those great ready open. With a thrice-torch in hand, I gourtyards, nor view those fronts of fantastic penetrated those cavernous interiors, and trod garving and embellishment without an ar beneath my feet the dust of treasures of a by- cheological thrill—those golossal erections of gone age. Ranged about me were great chests vanished hands--the work of artists and ar- that crumbled as I touched them; great rolls, chitects of no mean order, who had labored in presumably of cloth, that fell to nothingness the dim past to raise what was, perhaps, the under the breath of the outside air; enormous gapital of an empire. earthenware jars, filling galleries Iio meters “For three years I was gaptive with these long, which had contained wine and honey. savages, roaming the llanos in the dry season, I was in an ancient storehouse of enormous returning periodically to Cassiquiare in the extent-an arsenal-a commissariat depot. wet-but busy always, you may be sure, to In one chamber I afterward gounted over turn my personal misfortunes to a scientific seven thousand bronze axes. In another, I 118 Everybody's Magazine He had been gone hardly a minute before the “But," expostulated Beale. bell began to toll on the bridge. It had a "I'll leave the speaker to the good sense disquieting, alarming sound. All talk and of you men," interrupted Westbrook fiercely. whispering ceased. There was a general air “Such language is intolerable, and can only of anxiety. Then the men filed in silently, make matters worse. This is no time for as though daunted by the brilliancy of the personalities and insults. You have sub- great cabin, and by their own presumption in mitted a proposal—well, we meet it with a invading it. An instinctive respect kept them counter-proposal. That's the question for standing. They massed together about the the meeting—and the only one." mainmast, some with folded arms, others Beale tried to speak, but was dragged back, with their hands in their pockets, others struggling and expostulating, by his comrades. lounging carelessly against the bulkheads There were shouts of: “Shut up, Beale! with an affected bravado - a formidable Put a stopper on him! What Mr. West- crowd, filling nearly half the cabin-brawny, brook says is right!” The big Australian muscular, and defiant. subsided as he saw his men turning against Mr. Westbrook rose to his feet. His man him, and folded his arms across his breast in ner was that of a director at some share an aggressive submission. holders' meeting-dignified, calm, courteous. “Now, gentlemen,” continued Westbrook, “Gentlemen,” he began, in a deep, reson "we shall tell you everything, if in return you ant voice, “I have here a petition signed by pledge yourselves to support our officers will- thirty-seven members of this expedition. It ingly and cheerfully. Yes or no, if you asks for some things that are possible, and please.” others that are impossible. We count on your There was a shout of assent that swelled good sense and forbearance to make some into cheers. The cabin rang with hurrahs. kind of compromise possible. You cannot go Beale, flushed and scowling, seemed alone in on without us—we cannot go on without you. withholding his consent. He stirred uneasily There must be concessions on either side. on his feet, and his lips tightened as though It is inconceivable that a scheme so boldly in mute protest. projected, so laboriously carried out, so aus- “Let us hear from the nays,” exclaimed piciously begun-should be permitted to per- Westbrook, fixing a withering glance on him. ish in ignominy. You wish to know the ob- “I have not heard Mr. Beale's decision. ject of our search? Well, you shall be told!” Considering that he is our principal critic, his There was a hum of eager expectancy. answer is important." Heads craned forward. The loungers “I'm with the crowd,” returned the Aus- straightened up. tralian insolently. “If they are ready to put “But on one condition.” up with " Westbrook stopped, and regarded them “You're getting away from the point,” steadily. cried Westbrook, interrupting him. “You “We will brook no interference with the mean that you give your word of honor with- control of this vessel. Captain Jackson will out any reservation whatever, to obey Cap- remain in command, Mr. Haines will remain tain Jackson and the other officers we have first officer. We expect from every man of appointed? Is that so?”. you his individual word of honor to obey “It is, if you carry out your part of the them loyally and unquestioningly. If you bargain.” are not prepared to concede this, the expedi “We are ready to do that now!” tion is at an end, and we shall return to “All right then,” said Beale, in a choking Felicidad and disband.” sort of voice. “Hold on a minute!" cried Beale, pressing “Then, gentlemen, I shall call on Dr. belligerently to the front, and raising his von Zedtwitz to put you in possession of the hand for attention. “We don't think that facts that induced us to embark on this costly Jackson is a fit and suitable person to have and hazardous undertaking.” charge of us. Not only is he no seaman, but In a profound silence, broken only by the his inflated and overbearing ways— " droning of the gale above, Dr. von Zedtwitz “Silence!” cried Westbrook. “Captain rose, and solemnly regarded the assembled Jackson is not to be discussed. Another crew of the Fortuna. With his blond beard word, and I'll wash my hands of the whole that forked into fierce tusks; his deep-set and affair." piercing eyes; his strong, harsh features, sug- The Adventurer 119 gestive of a mind as rugged as his face, he account. I early recovered some of my in- was a solid and impressive figure. struments, a few of my books, my chronom- “Gentlemen,” he began, without preamble, eter watch. I was enabled to make obser- “fourteen years ago, under instructions from vations thereby, greatly to the astonishment the Imperial Scientific Society of Heidelberg, of the natives and to my own satisfaction. I had the honor of guiding a party from the I laid these observations for safe-geeping in city of Quito into the unexplored region of the the only segure place I had-my head, gen- southern llanos. After many hardships and tlemen. I made systematic exploration of misadventures, we were one day set upon by this ancient and half-buried citv. a band of those savage aboriginals that had “There was one building in particular, of made this gountry the dread of the explorer, prodigious extent, and of notable and gloomy and the despair of those ardent thirsters after splendor, on which I goncentrated the ma- geographical, anthropological, and etymolog- jor part of my efforts. Deep below in the ical knowledge, to whose efforts, in every ground was a labyrinth of subterranean glime, we owe so sincere a debt of scientific chambers, empty, dark, and given over to gratitude. They stripped us of everything, bats and reptiles. They had so long been though they spared our lives, and treated us exposed to the ravages of my friends, the in other ways not ungindly. Unfortunately, Pia pocos, that naught remained of their thinking to beguile them and win their friend- primitive occupancy. It occurred to me to ship, I exerted myself to amuse them with chart them carefully, in the expectation that, my flute. It was a fadal action. I succeeded they being laid out in a mathematical form only too well. My companions they left, but of remarkable strictness and regularity, I me they carried with them away. Professors might in this manner recover the architec- Engelhardt and Blumm contrived to retrace tural scheme, and know where to look for their steps and reach the outposts of civiliza- other chambers that possibly had been hidden tion. But I, on the bare back of a horse, was and lost for forty centuries. led by my captors into the recesses of their “I was rewarded beyond my hopes. This unchartered country, playing the flute for seeming labyrinth, when measured and them to dance when we rested from the chase, drawn to scale, showed precision and exact- or camped at night on the naked prairie. ness. I had now in my hand the key to the "I was carried, in the gourse of time, to a whole; and there remained only the difficulty place called Cassiquiare, situated on rising of removing débris—which was, however, an ground to the southeast-at the first break almost insurmountable one—and of tunnel- of the prairie into low hills, which by grada- ing to where I was gonfident of striking the tions assume the character of mountains. gontinuation of a certain passage. Ah, gen- Imagine my sensations on finding here the tlemen, it was an undertaging such as few remains of one of those vast and mysterious men would ever have attempted. I had no cities that antedate the Christian era, and tools but my hands, no helper save a female. were possibly contemporaneous with Baby But I was sustained by the gonviction of ul- lon and Tyre. Yes, my friends—enormous timate success. I was as positive as though I buildings of an antique epoch, moldering stood before a door, and had only to achieve in decay, overgrown with jungle, in many its opening. cases mere shapeless ruins lost to all form- “We broke through. We entered, as I had the wreck of a perished and forgotten civiliza- thought we should, a replica of the side al- tion. One could not move in those great ready open. With a thrice-torch in hand, I gourtyards, nor view those fronts of fantastic penetrated those cavernous interiors, and trod garving and embellishment without an ar- beneath my feet the dust of treasures of a by- cheological thrill-those golossal erections of gone age. Ranged about me were great chests vanished hands—the work of artists and ar- that crumbled as I touched them; great rolls, chitects of no mean order, who had labored in presumably of cloth, that fell to nothingness the dim past to raise what was, perhaps, the under the breath of the outside ajr; enormous gapital of an empire. earthenware jars, filling galleries 110 meters “For three years I was gaptive with these long, which had contained wine and honey. savages, roaming the llanos in the dry season, I was in an ancient storehouse of enormous returning periodically to Cassiquiare in the extent-an arsenal-a commissariat depot. wet-but busy always, you may be sure, to In one chamber I afterward gounted over turn my personal misfortunes to a scientific seven thousand bronze axes. In another, I 120 Everybody's Magazine galculated that there could not be less than split up into small parties, the better to sub- four hundred thousand arrow-heads. And so sist; and some, including my own, boldly it was with everything—the equipment of an penetrated to the northward, hoping to do Inca's army-for thousands, many thousands better on the banks of the river. We reached of men. the Inirida. Here at last was my opportu- “Do not think this examination was the nity, desperate and full of peril though it was. matter of an hour. I was gonfronted with One night I fled, and proceeded to follow many difficulties: poisonous gases, lack of down the river. I lived on what fish I illuminating means-above all, with what I gaught, and at night slept in trees to guard might call my professional engagements, myself from tigers. Ten days I existed thus, which made irritating demands on my time with diminishing strength, and many sad Gonstantly I had to play the flute. The na- reflections on my foolhardiness. Then, in tives were insatiable for my humble efforts. In my last extremity, I was so fortunate as to the intervals I gontinued my explorations. I fall in with a party of Mituas, who were shall not weary you with the details of them. I descending the stream in a canoe. These will come to that extraordinary moment when Indians brought me to San Fernando de I attained a high and vaulted chamber, and Atabapo, whence in due gourse, and after found myself in the actual strong-room of the many tedious delays, I returned to my native citadel. Here were ingots of metal, com- Heidelberg. pactly stacked in serried rows that reached “As to the treasure I said nothing. I the ceiling. I took one up. Gentlemen, it cherished dreams of some day returning; and was a bar of gold!” in the intervals of my professorial duties at The doctor paused as though to enjoy the Heidelberg—where I became assistant lec- sensation of his announcement. Nor was turer on the prehistoric races of South Amer- he disappointed. The company, breathless ica-I turned over many projects, which one and silent, had been standing like statues by one I had to give up as not feasible. The under the spell of a dawning comprehension. problem of transporting such a mass of metal Now, with a sudden, ungovernable impulse, through a hostile, almost waterless desert, they broke into cheers. Again and again appeared insolvable. This colossal weight, there arose a' mighty shout that shook the requiring four hundred pack-horses to bear it, skylights overhead. and an attendant army to defend it, defied “Zeddy, forever! Hurrah for Zeddy! every endeavor of my imagination. No Now, boys, all together, hip, hip- !” means suggested itself to me by which success The uproar was quelled by the doctor's might be achieved. Yet I said nothing. I upraised hand. kept my secret buried in my bosom. But “To resume," he said. “Yes, gentlemen, I pondered incessantly—and in vain. a bar of gold! Even with my imperfect “One day in Paris, at the house of our means of verification, I soon satisfied myself common friend, the justly celebrated and of its integrity. Then I set myself painstag- world-famed Max Nordau, I had the great ingly to determine the value of my disgovery honor and good fortune to be presented to It was at best but a grude estimate that I Mrs. Poulteney Hitchcock. This gracious could maig; but with scientific gonservatism lady put many questions to me about Cassi. I erred, if at all, on the side of gaution. In quiare, and betrayed an interest so eager, so that vault there lie to-day between four and sympathetic, that after repeated visits to her five hundred ingots of gold of a minimum charming salon, I at last unfolded to her my value of forty millions of marks-or, in Ameri- perplexities, and besought her aid. can money, almost ten millions of dollars! “Thanks to this noble lady's energy and "In the succeeding year, beginning the money, to Mr. Westbrook's inventive genius, fourth of my gaptivity, there was a season of and to my own humble though ardent go- such excessive drought that we were threat operation, this daring and audacious scheme ened with starvation. Game, formerly so was successfully incepted. It rests with you plentiful, had all but disappeared. The to carry it to a triumphant gonclusion; and parched savannas were whitened with the God willing, we shall soon return to Felici- bones of those immense herds that had fallen dad like a galleon of old Spain, deep-laden and died in ungounted thousands. We had with the plundered treasures of the Incas!” The sixth instalment of “The Adventurer” will appear in the August number. Patsy Moran and the Orange Paint By ARTHUR SULLIVANT HOFFMAN Illustrations by Henry Raleigh I HAVE no great likin' for thim mesilf,” “It was me and Dinnis O'Toole with the I said Patsy Moran, skilfully lighting his eyes of the two of us on the same polayce job, pipe from the one that Tim had silently good frinds as we was—sure, I loved him like handed him and settling back comfortably a brother and he treated me like wan, bad cess on his end of a Central Park bench; "yet to him! But we was frinds thin, and whin 'twas only me good luck saved me from bein' the word come to us that the man holdin' the wan of thim.” wires to the givin' of that job was old Michael The phlegmatic Tim smoked peacefully on O'Grady up in Westchester County, Dinnis without comment, but Patsy, who required no comes to me and says he, with wan of thim other response from Tim than his presence, lady-trust-me looks from the big eyes of him: continued reminiscently: 'Patsy,' says he, 'it's frinds we are first, and “Yis,” he said, “but for good luck and a bit wan of us is a polayceman afterwards,' he of me own good judgment I'd be tremblin' for says, noble. me job on the polayce force this minute-de “Yis,' says I, swellin' with pride at bein' pindent for the rint on whether I could git it so honorable. from Hinissey for not seein' his place was open “We're playin' fair and the best man wins,' Sunday mornin' whin I was takin' a drink he says. over his bar, or whether me sergeant had “Yis,' says I. already took ivrything Hinissey had for the “Thin,' says he, ‘let the two of us go up • offinse of havin' it, tellin' him he might keep togither to old man O'Grady's place in the the rest if he would report me for drinkin' on country and settle it wanct and for all like duty. Sure, and in the place of that I'm me gintlemen, lettin' him choose atween us. Are own master of mesilf, livin' free and comfort- ye with me?' able by industrious burglin' and drivin' the “I wouldn't be lettin' ye go alone for polayce distracted, may the divil dance on the worlds,' says I, still feelin' honorable and blue backs of thim-hiven forgive me for say- turnin' cold at the thought of him goin' to in' so! O'Grady unbeknownst to me. It's the true “But they was a time whin I was timpted frind ye are and I'll not be goin' back on ye.' into wantin' a job on the force, and this was “Will it be this afternoon, thin?' he says. the way of it. 'Twas in me early twinties, “Sure,' I says, takin' quick thought of the and faith, it's the fine, upstandin' lad I was in new clothes I was wearin' and knowin' Dinnis thim days, with all the women gittin' beyond couldn't raise the money by afternoon for thimsilves entirely over me, and me that care better than the shabby wans on the back of less and go-lucky. It was only me good luck him. saved me from wan of thim the same day it “So up we wint. O'Grady, havin' made kept me from throwin' mesilf away on the his pile, was livin' comfortable on his own polayce force, and if iver a man made his way place in the country and addin' to it, bein' a with a woman with ivrything ag’inst him, capacious man, by keepin' his hold on politics well, I'll be tellin' ye. on the East Side. He was so rich his home 121 122 Eveverybody's Magazine was a matter of a mile from the statioss tiid and can sit with your back ag'inst this tree and we wint the way on foot, takin' no sorrow so your legs flat out along the concealin' ground. it, for the sun was shinin', the flowers bloom- à venad don't move annything but your tongue in'ivrywhere, and the bees hummin' soothin' whilser ut he's with us! I'll do what I can. but and pleasant-like-and the country's a fine for the lovda. of hiven, sit tight! place to go to whin ye can come back ag'in. “With theats first words of him me brains “We was trudgin' along through a bit of threw the sleep froitua thim and me heart woods, nayther of us talkin' much by reason stopped beatin' with the stirkenin' fright of of thinkin' how he could git a medal from what he was sayin'. I could sere immediate O'Grady for bein' fair and honorable whilst that thim words painted on the back of me he was makin' the other look like the last would murder all me chancts with O'Grady words of a drunken man afore he falls into the -and me fine new suit, besides! Young as I ditch and quits speakin', whin who should we was, I seen it was no time for mere thinkin'- be meetin', drivin' along in his bit of a cart, me wits was quick to tell me that-and in less but old man O'Grady himsilf! time than it takes a potaty to roll into a bar- “We stops him, both talkin' to wanct, but rel I was scrunchin' and wormin' and wigglin' afore we could tell our business he says he along on me back—alanna, thim poor clothes! must be goin' on after the mail and for us to —and was sittin' tight ag'inst a big tree with wait for him where we was and ride home me legs flat out along the ground and niver with him whin he comes back. Which we wan of thim yellow letters showin', praise be. done, or begun to do, only by this time we “And with that, old man O'Grady, havin' was so nervous about each other that Dinnis come close by with his head down a-studyin', wandered around in the woods and I stretched looks up and sees us. “Whoa!' says he. out on the grass by the roadside. 'Well, gintlemen, here I am and ready for ye. “I was watchin' him, suspicious, but pris. Will ye be gittin' in with me, or has your frind intly I rolled over and wint to sleep, with the changed his mind, Mr. O'Toole?' he says, warm sun shinin' down on me back, knowin' put out over a young man like me showin' him me wits would carry me through with no more respict than not to git up whin he O'Grady if I didn't wear thim out with usin' come. thim aforehand. "Well, sor,' says Dinnis, 'it ain't his mind "It was Dinnis woke 'me, and the eyes of he's wantin' to change. Ye see, sor,' he says, him was bulgin' out like eggs. givin' me a black eye right in the start of it and “'Tare and ages!' he says, 'what's hap- leavin' me no chanct to tell me own lies, “it's pened ve?' not over strong he is—Moran's the name, sor, "Me?' savs I, blinkin' me eyes. Patrick Moran-and the walkin' was a bit too "Who's done this to ye, Patsy?' he goes much for him. The sun makes him this way, 'on, fairly yellin' at me. “What divil has been sor, but he gits all right ag'in whin he can rest at ye whilst I was away? Oh, wirra, wirra, his back ag'inst something for a bit.' man, if O'Grady iver sees ye now it's more “Did ye iver hear the like of that from wan like he will be killin' ye than annything ilse! that was a frind! It made me so blunderin' Here,' he says, 'roll over ag'in and let me see mad that niver a word could I say ixcipt the back of ye wanct more. Holy saints, look to take off me hat polite, prayin' the saints at that, now! “Down with Tammany!” they was no orange paint on the back of across your shoulders! And runnin' crooked me arm, and not darin' to move from where down from it-hold still but wan minute-no I sat! true Irishman iver done that—“Bless Boyne “Sure,' says Mr. O'Grady, "and that's a Water!” And down wan leg is “ Ireland for pity. What can we be doin' for ye?' he says, the English!” and along the other “Down gittin' down from his cart. with the Popel” and startin' from your hip- “There was me chanct and I took it. 'Mr. pocket is a blaspheemous suggistion to the O'Grady,' I says, “sure, it's troublin' ye too polayce! Ivry letter of it all in orange paint! much I am, sor, but if ye could just be settin' Och, man, if O'Grady iver sees but wan letter down and talkin' to me soothin' a few minutes of that ye're lost intirely, and by all the pow- I'd be right ag'in in no time. It ain't wanct a ers here he comes now, jauntin' along in his year I git these spells, and thin only from eatin' bit cart, though he ain't seen us yet! Keep pickled beets with horseradish on thim,' says your face to him-no, they's no time to be I, knowin' they ain't no chanct for invalids lookin' at it now--and crawl back where ye on the polayce. "PATSY,' SAYS HE, IT'S FRINDS WE ARE FIRST. AND WAN OF US IS A POLAYCEMAN AFTERWARDS.'" “Och, it's mesilf will do that same,' says sorrowful, ‘for if it's much worse ye're gittin', Mr. O'Grady, and little enough.' I'll have to ask Mr. O'Grady to hilp me roll “Just a minute, sor, and axin' your par- you on to your stummick and pound your don,' puts in Dinnis. “Patsy, Patsy,' says he, back like Dr. Ryan said!' tinder as a woman, the divil snatch him! - “It's a wise man that knows whin a fool has 'don't ye mind how Dr. Ryan says the wan the best of him. I give up; besides, the two of thing ye're not to do whin ye're this way is to thim was already movin' toward the cart. I talk with annybody whativer?' comminced callin' Dinnis all the evil names “Ye lie, ye dirty blackguard!' I says, that come to me—which was all they was- losin' hold of mesilf, but keepin' pasted to the but I seen him touchin' his head with his finger tree. 'I niver wint to Dr. Ryan in me life, and whin I shut me mouth to listen, he was and they ain't anny such man annyways! sayin' to Mr. O'Grady, says he: ‘Oh, no, sor, Don't I know what — he don't mean nothin' by all that. 'Tis only “Patsy dear,' says Dinnis, like it was hurt the fit that's on him and they's no offinse to in' him, 'quiet yoursilf down! Och, come be took. Other times he's a daycent man, away, Mr. O'Grady, sor! It's killin' him though- we'll be after doin'. If ye'll be takin' me into “And with that they climbed in and away your cart I'll be acceptin' your kind bid to go they wint, leavin' me blind and chokin' with home with ye where I can be settlin' the busi- me anger. ness the two of us come out for, with no trou “I was so busy cursin' to mesilf that it was ble to me frind. It's what the doctor says is some minutes afore it come to me to look at best for him—to be left quiet by himsilf. thim blamed letters on me back. And thin, “Now the black curse of Shielygh on ye, so hilp me, I was afraid to look! Sure I was Dinnis O'Toole!' I yells at him, bein' beyond that it was Dinnis himsilf put thim on me—it mesilf, though not movin' me back and legs. stood to reason no one would be wanderin' And if iver- round the country with a can of orange paint “Don't be ragin' at thim as is doin' their waitin' for some Irishman to come along and best for ye, Patsy dear,' he says, still lookin' go to sleep on his stummick so he could paint 123 124 Everybody's Magazine nefarious writin's on the innocent back of him! that made me heart feel like a repeater. But At the thought of thim I fell to swearin' ag'in is it in trouble ye are?' her voice fillin' out with prodigious, and was just goin' to draw up wan kindness so I nearly forgot the paint that was leg and read it whin I heard some wan singin'. keepin' me where I was. A woman's voice, and a sweet wan, it was, "I was till you come,' I says, laughin' back and I begun prissin' me headlines to the at her, 'and now I'm like to git in it worse than ground closer than iver. iver,' I says. “Thin I seen her through the trees comin' “Och,' says she,'go long with ye! Can't I down a bit of a lane into the road, and faith, be stoppin' long enough to be civil but ye must few is the women I've laid me eyes on afore or begin blarneyin' like ye'd known me all me since could equal that wan! Her hair was life long?' blacker than annything ilse ixcipt her eyes, "Sure,' I says, still settin' tight ag'inst me and the red cheeks and lips of her would 'a' tree and all the earth me legs could cover, made the berries in her pail look like they was 'I've knowed ye iver since I first met ye, and snowballs. And as saucy as ye please, she was. that's all anny wan has done. And as for “She spoke to me social as she wint by in blarneyin', was they iver a man laid eyes on ye the road, bein' nayther afraid nor too much without tellin' ye what he saw?!. the other way, and I could see the looks of me "Yoursilf,' says she, laughin', with the was by no means hurtin' her. dimples comin' all over the face of her. "A fine afternoon to ye,' she says, goin' “Mesilf indeed!' says I, and I could see right along on her way. she was bein' drawed to me by the way I was "Sure,' says I, 'and if ye'd said that same settin' there indifferent whilst she stood in the afore ye come, I'd 'a' been answerin' that it road. “Wasn't I just sayin' I saw a worse was not like to be!' trouble for me than anny that have gone “Och,' says she, laughin' a bit of a laugh afore?' WA UT1 LE BUH Rueyre "IT'S A WISE MAN THAT KNOWS WHIN A FOOL HAS THE BEST OF HIM." Patsy Moran and the Orange Paint 125 “She give me a look out of thim black “Do what?' says she, but doin' it. "Be eyes of hers that set me strainin' at the careful of yoursilf there!' she goes on, for I tree-trunk I was leanin' me back ag'inst. was movin' me legs back and forth like they ‘Meanin',' says she, “the trouble of gittin' up was pendulums, but keepin' thim tight to the on your feet whin a lady speaks to ye?' she ground and not alarmin' the ants to speak of. says, tossin' her pretty head and leadin' me on. “It's goin' for help I'll be,' she says, still com- “Faith,' I says, 'I'd be up on me feet and in' toward me. down on me knees the same minute if-'says “At thim words me stummick collapsed I, ‘if-'I says, surprised at where I'd got me- with fright of me bein' picked up and her silf to and castin' round for anny kind of sin- readin' thim mortifyin' letters on me, and sible reason for bein’a bit of stickin'-plaster on right on top of that she come close enough to the face of the earth whin they was a girl like see it was low shoes I was wearin' and both that callin' to me from the road. mc ankles as trim and tidy as iver they was. "Ye seem to be in trouble ag'in,' says she. “Ye big gomeral, ye was lyin' to me!' she 'It's like to become a habit with ye, and says, stoppin’ short. where's the glib tongue was waggin' so easy “Yis, I was,' says I, 'but in the name of a minute gone?' hiven give me the stick!' I says, the sicond "It ain't me tongue's at fault,' I says, ant havin' gone over the idge of me trousies' meanin' to blame it on me heart and quiet the leg. 'And what might your name be, so I poor girl, only just thin I begun noticin' how can be thankin' ye?' I says, reachin' for the manny of thim big black ants they was stick. “And won't ye set down and rist crawlin' around the ground and wanderin' yoursilf?' over me hilpless form. It's me that hates “Take it!' she says, throwin' it at me. bugs worse than the blissed St. Patrick hates “And it's none of your business and I want no snakes and 'twas me immediate intintion to thanks from the likes of ye and I won't!' says jump straight up in the air, brushin' the little she, answerin'ivrything at wanct. divils off me with all me hands and feet, but “Thank ye annyways,' I says, beatin' me I raymimbered thim murderin' yellow letters shins with the stick without movin’ me back printed up and down the back of me, and call from the tree, “and ye will and what is it?' in' up all me will-power, I set where I was.. “The saints in glory be among us!' says Mind ye, it was fair wild I was with thim- she, watchin' me whippin' mesilf. “What they was eight of thim animals on the wan leg ails ye?' of me—but such will the pride in him do for a “It's punishin' mesilf I am for lyin' to ye,' man, and the love of women! And good I says, 'but I misdoubted would ye believe me come of it, for it was wan of thim lunytic ants if I told ye the truth.' scourin' up the toe of me shoe and down the “Ye might be tryin' the truth wanct to sole of it, not havin' sinse enough to go find out,' she says, forgittin' to stay mad from around instead of climbin' over, that give me bein' a woman and curious, and lookin' pret- a idea; and so quick was all this that 'twas tier ivry minute. but a sicond after she was done askin' that I “Will ye set down frindly-like, thin, and outs with the answer. what was it ye didn't say your name was?' “It ain't me tongue,' I says, wan eye on says I, brushin' a ant off me shoulder and her and the other wan on the biggest of thim shiverin' at the thought of him gittin' down ants what was ballyhootin' round the bottoms me neck. of me trousies, debatin' would he be explorin' “I'll be stoppin' a minute, havin' time on inside, “and hiven knows it ain't me heart me hands,' says she, her curiosity killin' her, that's keepin' me here, but me foot,' I says. and me name is just what ye said I didn't say 'I sprained me ankle on that stone forninst ye it was, me not knowin' yours annyway,' she in the road and would ye mind throwin' it as says. far as ye're able into the woods?' says I. "Oh, mine,' says I. 'The last of it's “Och, ye poor man!' she says, comin' Moran,' I says, tellin' her the truth by reason toward me as I knowed she would. “And of knowin' she wouldn't believe it, but that why ain't ye takin' off your shoe afore your don't matter since it's just like ivry other foot swells in it?' man's—your own at the word from ye. Me "Bring a stick with ye!' I says, the wan own name is Patrick,' I says, “but Patsy's big ant havin' disappeared from me view and easier. And I'm not wantin' the last of yours another wan startin' to hunt for him. the day, seein' as it's not likely to stay so unless 126 Everybody's Magazine ANE all the single men loses the power of speech a divil afterwards. 'Twas a big oath I took, and can't make signs. And if I'm not know- and niver in all thim years was they need of it, in your own sweet name,' I says, wonderin' but this day, Katy darlin',' I says, makin’ me was it the old granddad ant ticklin' me over voice rich and sweet, and lookin' at her in a me knee, there's naught left but to call ye way I'd learned was worth doin', 'but this mavourneen and other things that come out of day, Katy darlin', the time has come on me! the heart of me,' says I, givin: her a look and The minute me eyes was blissed by the sight sighin' painful. of ye comin' down the lane I begun sayin' “It's Katy, thin,' says she, dimplin' so I over and over to mesilf, “Patsy, me boy, had to keep me eyes on me own back to ray. Patsy, me boy, if ye move but wan inch from mimber thim purgatorial letters on it, “and ye where ye are, ye'll spind all the rest of your needn't be beatin' yoursilf anny more with life after ye're dead in purgatory!” And me- that stick,' she says, 'it ye'll be tellin' me the silf answers me back immediate, “And if ye real truth intirely.' let that girl go by, ye'll spind it in a worse "Niver mind that, Katy dear,' I says. 'I place, and God pity ye!” Faith, Katy dear, can't forgive me- I'm cursin' the day silf for lyin' to ye I made that big and it keeps the oath, for it's glad bugs off, but will I'd be to put me ye be offinded at face in the dirt at the truth if ye have your little feet, ma- it?' I says, me wits vourneen,' I says, furnishin' me with thinkin' right in a splendiferous the middle of it reason for bein' a what the bedivilled porous-plaster. back of me would 16"If ye can be lookin' like if I stand tellin' of it was to do it, 'but wanct, it's me will I know ye'd not be tryin' to put up be havin' me break with the hearin' of me oath and I'm it,' she says, smilin' too much of a man at me and showin' for that, anny- the white teeth of ways,' I inded up, her so I was mind- sighin’tremindous. ed to git up with “It was a long all that outrageous speech, but a good printin' on me and wan, and it made take me chanct the pretty face of of lookin' a fool. her red as thim red “Thin here it flowers, whativer is,' says I, solemn and trembly-like, 'in three the name of thim is, and her lookin' at me like words. I've seen the world, Katy darlin', she was tryin' to see into me heart itsilf. and the most contimptible creature in the “Are ye a lunytic?' says she, gaspin' for whole of it is him that makes a fool of breath. himsilf runnin' round after a woman, bleatin' “Yis,' says I, shakin' wan of thim divil- like a sheep whin she takes notice of him, chasin' ants off me bare hand, “but not till ye and squealin' like a litter of pigs whin she come,' I says. pretinds she don't. I was but the makin's of “And thin she comminced to laugh, though a man whin I took me solemn oath that if I couldn't be tellin' was it from the quick wit iver the heart of me wint out to a good woman of me answer to her or just by reason of her and a pretty wan, divil the step would I be bein' a bit hysteric over the man's strength of traipsin' after her, leastways till she'd come to me courtin'. But me own face I kept lookin' me first. Lad as I was, I knowed 'twas only mortal sorrowful, though the whole of me a good woman would have sinse to see that was squirmin' all over with the ants I could belike I was the better man for not bein' a feel on me, and was they real or not I don't fool afore marriage, and the less likely to be know, but they might as well 'a' been. "ARE YE A LUNYTIC:' SAYS SHE, GASPIN' FOR BREATH." Patsy Moran and the Orange Paint 127 “But not all of it—thim armies of bugs bein' alive, goin' home ivry night to me father- and thim fool paintin's on me back that kept in-law's sumpchus risidince in the country me nailed down to wan spot like I was a lid to and sindin' out the servants to kill all the ants it-wasn't holdin' me from makin' me way they was on me estates. with a woman. She was pretindin' to be a bit “Thim ants was wonderful ristless, and by proud at the first, but I ixplained to her how this time I could feel crowds of thim scram- me settin' still was but a complimint to her and blin' round all over me underneath me if she would be humorin' me oath for the wan clothes, playin' they was Coney Island and day, after that I would be crawlin' around for Wall Street and eliction night all to wanct. I her like all thim other fools did, which suited niver knowed they was so many ants, and ivry her complete and tremindous. It wasn't long wan of thim was barefoot and diggin' his toes afore she come over close enough for me to in. The cold chills run up and down me back be holdin' wan of her hands, me still usin' and me stummick felt like it was a Charlotte me free wan to knock off thim owdacious Roose. Ivry wanct in a while wan of thim ants. would bite me, meanin' no harm, but just in- “And now, Katy darlin',' says I, “it's busi- vestigatin'—and me all the time nailed down ness I'll be havin' in these parts to-morrow to the seat of me own trousies be thim painted and belike after that, and,' I says, 'ye didn't and blaspheemus letters I was settin' on, niver git all the berries they was, did ye, mavour darin' to move me back from the tree for all neen? Couldn't ye be comin' by here after the ants nor all Katy's inticin' ways. Anny more of thim to-morrow?' I says, squeezin' other man would 'a' run screamin' and claw- the soft hand of her, encouragin'. in' from the place, but me will power is me “And do ye think Katy O'Grady has no strong point, and I stayed where I was, makin' more to do than go wanderin' about waitin' love to a woman and the polayce force, and for some wan that will forgit he iver met her?' lyin' like the father of all lies to prove all thim says she. I'd told afore and was intindin' to tell later on. “Whin I heard 'O'Grady' me blood quit But I will say this: If I was thrown into the circulatin. tormints of hell this minute I would but wave “Do ye think that?' she goes on, lookin' at me hand easy-like and make enemies on ivry me, pleadin'. side by findin' fault with the feeble way they “I ain't thinkin',' I says. But I was, and was doin' things. at wanct me wits told me that if she was old “Katy was makin' it no easier for me. man O'Grady's daughter, here was me chanct 'Give ye a kiss, is it?' says she, replyin' to wan to beat Dinnis out after all by workin' on the of me suggistions I'd made whilst tryin' to poor girl's heart and makin' an alley of her. siparate two of thim ants what had met on a “And is it Mr. Michael O'Grady is your street-corner and was havin' a free-for-all on father?' I asks, careless-like. me bare skin. “Come over and give ye a kiss, “The same, says she, “and do ye know is it? And ye settin' there mumblin' about a him?' oath ye took whin ye was drivin' the pig home "Thin I told her as much of the truth as I in the Old Country! And did ye take anny thought would be doin' her no harm, but also oath about makin' the woman do the run- narratin' imprissive how Dinnis had been nin' after? Och, Patsy dear, if ye was after persuadin' me to take a bit of a nap, me meanin' the half of what ye've been sayin' to bein' tired from workin’so hard, and thin wint me—and faith, 'twould not be runnin' after and slipped off to the old man, tellin' him I me to move over but the few feet they are was just a frind who'd come along for com atween us!! pany, which would 'a' been true if it had hap “Can ye guess bein' put like that, and me pened, and maybe it did. with the back of me lookin' like a plate of “Annyways, I wint to work in earnest and alphabet soup! And wouldn't ‘Down with if I'd been makin' love to her afore, after that the Pope and Tammany!' be a fine card for I fair drawed the heart out of her. It was the daughter of Michael O'Grady, and her almost like makin' love to old man O'Grady blushin' and waitin' for me to come and kiss himsilf, though the face and winnin' ways of her! her was enough in thimsilves. I'm not the “At the sound of some wan comin' along man to be boastin' of such things, but it was the road I begun givin'thanks to all the saints, but a short time till I could see mesilf in a wan by wan and all togither, and Katy come polayceman's uniform arrestin' Dinnis for to her feet, grabbin' up her berry pail, but "SO HILP ME HIVEN, THEY WASN'T A MARK ON ME!" afore she could reach the road she give a little out of his head. “Why,' says she, ‘he was squeal: tellin' me he'd took a oath-I was but passin' "Och,' she says, stoppin' in her tracks, the time of day to him as I wint by,' she 'it's me father himsilf!' says, seein' she was makin' trouble for hersilf. “And him it was, and Dinnis O'Toole, 'He said he'd took a oath to-to-but- walkin' arm in arm as thick as ye please. "Oath?' says Dinnis, laughin', the spal- "I'm glad of that same,' says I. "Now do peen! 'Faith, I'm bettin' all me hopes of ye be leavin' it all to me, Katy darlin', and Paradise I can be guessin' it was wan of two we'll give Mr. O'Toole what he's deservin', things! Come, now, Patsy me boy,' says he, bad scran to him, and me oath would 'a' been actin' like he was payin' me a frindly compli- busted to smithereens if they'd waited but the mint, 'which wan was it? Have ye been wan minute more!' swearin' off ag'in on gallivantin' after the “Just thin old Mr. O'Grady claps his eyes girls, or is it the liquor ye put your oath on on her. "And what are ye doin' here, now,' this time? Sure,' he says, turnin' to the oth- he calls out to her, 'gabbin' with a man what's ers, 'it's his tinder conscience makes me like a stranger to ye? If I wasn't knowin' him too him, and if the girls would be leavin' him sick to move, I'd be boxin' both thim ears of alone and he wasn't so good-lookin', he'd make less trouble for the hearts of thim. As "Sick?' says she, lookin' first at me and regardin' the liquor, now, I'm not sayin' but thin at him. what- “Yis,' says the old man, close to her by “Ye're a murderin' liar, Dinnis O'Toole!' now, ‘he was so sick in the head of him that I yells at him whin I could catch me breath his frind Mr. O'Toole here—me daughter from the treach'ry of him, mixin' the truth Katy, Mr. O'Toole—had to leave him here with black lies to ruin me chanct with Katy like the doctor said, till he come to. And are and the old man! 'If I could be gittin' on me ye feelin' a bit better, Mr. Moran, and no feet I'd break ivry bone in your sneakin' offinse to ye?' says he, lookin' down at me body!' I says, chokin' with the rage that was ag'inst me tree. on me and cursin' the paint on me back that "Sick!' says she ag'in, disgusted, but kept me from killin' him. barely noddin' to Dinnis, who was bowin’and “Oh,' says he, swellin' up the chist of him, scrapin' to her with the eyes of him stickin' 'words is easy things, but I'd be makin' ye eat yours!' 128 Patsy Moran and the Orange Paint 129 thim ye've just spoke if ye wasn't out of your oily lips of him, but omittin' about Katy and head with the sickness, and can't ye take a wan or two other things. bit of jokin' from a frind?' he says. “And “It done me good to see O'Grady beginnin' what is the matter with ye, annyways? to scowl at Dinnis as I wint on with me story, “Hell was hiven be the side of that minute. though Katy laughed a bit wanct or twict. As Here was that big lyin' gomach insultin' me for Dinnis himsilf, ye couldn't tell what was and spoilin' me last chanct with Katy and the goin' on inside him, but his face was red and polayce force, and me growin' in the ground his lips twitchin' so I thought he was on the like I was a toadstool! I could see she was idge of cryin'. talkin' to Dinnis a bit from spite, believin' I'd “But the impidence of him! The minute been de sayvin' of her and thinkin' me a cow- the last word was out of me mouth he steps ard and a lunytic besides that, and O'Grady up to old man O'Grady, bold as ye please, himsilf, the old spancelled goat, was regardin' though his mouth was still trimblin' round me like I was two lunytics and drunk wans at the corners. that. Dinnis, the wretch, was smilin'wan “Mr. O'Grady,' says he, his voice shakin', of thim sweet smiles of his and whisperin' to 'whin ye are through listenin' to me ixcited Katy confidintial, seein' himself on the po- frind Mr. Moran, I'll be askin' another word layce force foriver by reason of bein' mar with ye about whin I'm to join the force. And ried to O'Grady's own daughter. And that at the same time, sor,' he says, sinkin' his not bein' enough to tormint me, I begun voice so Katy couldn't hear him, but I could, feelin' thim ants ag'in crawlin' all over me, bein' nearer, 'and at the same time, sor,' says furious. he, easy and cheerful, “I'll be askin' your per- “All to wanct me quick wits and me good mission to pay me court to your daughter!' judgmint come back to me and I seen that “Old man O'Grady spun round on him havin' nothin' to choose from, they was but and give him a look like he would bite him, wan thing to do. I couldn't in anny way look and Dinnis turned his back and run, throwin' more of a fool than I was lookin' already and himsilf down on the ground a little ways off I might as well be showin' Dinnis up for an- and rollin' about with his face covered with other, and maybe,, by destroyin' his chanct his hands and his body shakin' like his with the both of thim, I could build up me troubles was murderin' him. The old man own ag'in. And annyways, whin ye've fell turned to me wanct more: from the elivinth-story window they ain't no “Git up, thin, and let's see thim letters on more can happen ye after hittin' the ground. ye, me frind,' says O'Grady. “Listen, Mr. O'Grady, and you, Miss “Faith,' I says, blushin', 'they're that O'Grady,' says I, lookin' up at thim, and with humiliaytin' I ain't seen thim mesilf yit, but the sound of me own voice I seen how fine me the shame's none of me own for all that, plan was and that Dinnis was as good as done though I'm wishin' Miss O'Grady would be for. 'I'll tell ye the whole truth from the lookin' the other way,' I says, gittin' up slow beginnin' and ye can judge atween the two by reason of wan of me legs bein' asleep, and of us!' turnin' me back round to him. “At wanct Dinnis quit whisperin' and wint “Just thin Dinnis let out a laugh like he a bit white in the face, but I wint right on, was a lunytic entirely and the nixt minute keepin' me eyes on all three of thim and tellin' O'Grady busted out himsilf and Katy joined thim all of it-how Dinnis betrayed our agree in with thim, laughin' so it made me weak mint and painted thim blaspheemous letter with the shame of it! in's on me, so he could ruin me with his lyin' "I made wan grab at me coat, tearin' it off tongue whilst I was helpless—me Irish pride me and twistin' round at the same time to see keepin' me from movin’so anny wan could see the backs of me legs, and so hilp me hiven, me back-clean down to the lies just off the they wasn't a mark on me!”. Little Stories of Real Life 10 The Error of Circumstance ticed a cab tearing toward her from the left. They both yelled, and the motorman clanged By Joseph Kocheli a tattoo on the bell as rapidly as his stiffened leg permitted, but the driver seemed neither M OST of the day “Big” Kerrigan had to hear nor to see. driven “2059" through a wild storm The woman looked up startled, made as if of hail and slush, and the last hour he had to dash ahead, faltered, and turned back; been obliged fairly to cling to his brake. The then in bewildered fright she slipped to her front of his heavy, high-collared ulster, his knees close to the side of the track on the draggled beard, and the big mitts encasing his right, and in another second Kerrigan had stiffened fingers rasped and crackled under sent the current full into the car so that it their iced coating with his every movement. leaped ahead and pushed its big, round nose When the car swung around the last curve in just between the woman lying there and the of the run, the wind caught him at such an hoofs of the horse that would have trampled angle that it nearly pulled him from his grip, on her. A moment after, from a jumbled but he bent over a little more and pushed the mass of splintered wreckage, the horse kicked car along with all the speed she would take. free and bolted into the night, and the driver A thousand yards away blinked the lights of scrambled to his feet unhurt from where he the sheds, at the end of the trip, where it was had been pitched into the street, and came warm, and where there would be coffee black at Kerrigan with a curse. and hot. Jimmy Allen had swung down, picked up Then, just before the last crossing, he the woman and carried her to the curb, and jammed on the brakes so hard that Jimmy when he came back the other two were Allen, the conductor, busy inside with the clenched in a wild struggle. count of fares, was carried completely off his With the heel of his left hand under the feet and sprawled upon the floor. other's chin and one knee doubled against “What in blazes!” he muttered as he got him, Kerrigan broke his hold, shoved him up dazed and with his sleeve rubbed a spot away, and stood panting. Suddenly the clear on the frosted window behind the plat driver stooped and snatched up his whip, form. He peered out, but it was too dark which a near-by sputtering arc light disclosed to see, so he impatiently pulled open the at his feet. Then, even in the act of straight- doors and stepped out behind Kerrigan. ening up, he lashed Kerrigan across the face. It was a woman on the track ahead, strug- Kerrigan howled as he felt the cut. He gling against the wind, with head down, to rushed in and struck out furiously with his get across from their right, for whom Kerrigan right, forgetting the brass controller it had stopped. They watched her for a mo- clenched. The driver ducked, but caught the ment, then in the same instant they both no- blow fairly between the eyes. He stiffened, 130 Little Stories of Real Life 131 then crumpled up limply, like a rag, and A huge barrier of a lumber pile rose before Kerrigan bent over him, horrified, watching him. It would have to be surmounted. He entranced a thin line of blood creep slowly dared not make his way around it outside down the upturned face. the line of trucks. The tapping of many police sticks ahead and to the rear, beyond A crowd collected. Men ran over from the that line, told him that they had guessed his car sheds. Others near by, who had heard way of escape. the crash of the collision, came hurrying to Unobserved the storm had been rapidly the scene. Over the way, a man pulled open clearing away overhead. When he had clam- the door of a saloon and half shut it again bered half-way up on the projecting ends of as the cold air struck him. But he noted that the boards, the moonlight filtered through the something unusual had happened and turned clouds and silhouetted his figure sharply, and spoke to others in the room. Then out suspended as he was. He loosed his hold of a little entrance at the side there emerged and dropped quickly back to the ground, a policeman, surly at having been disturbed, but they had seen him. A reaction from the pulling at his belt. terrible overstrain swept over him and left As he pressed his way through the crowd him exhausted. He doubled back along the from one side, Kerrigan rose hurriedly from path for a moment, then dragging his feet the heap on the road, plunged through the wearily, he crept in among a number of large other side, and ran. Some one shouted that trucks. he had killed a man, but he had gained a He got into one and pulled himself for- block before the shrill blast of a whistle be- ward, crouching under the overhanging seat. hind him told that they had taken up the He was no more than half conscious of the chase. search that was drawing in a narrowing line He threw off his heavy coat and doubled his about his refuge. He felt that he did not care. speed, searching out He heard their as he ran the places curses as they where the lights searched. He was from the street lamps giving them a bad fell the least. He night's work, and he abruptly changed his was somehow glad course, as he thought of it. of the near-by river- When they reached front. It was lucky his truck they saw he did so. From the him immediately. direction in which he With a hoarse shout had been traveling two of them sprang came an answering up on the tail end. blast, and the sharp When they saw that distinctive rap of a he was barehanded, police night-stick on they slipped their the flagging. He pistols back into their gained a great space pockets. With a stretching along the beastly snarl they river edge where rows came at him, their upon rows of trucks long clubs ready. and carts were sta- Then the answer- tioned for the night ing lust of battle in the open. flared up passionately He dashed among in Kerrigan, and them. There he had when they had come to move more slowly, half-way he dashed picking his way. Between the last row of carts at them full breast to breast. Perhaps there and the water a narrow path extended for a was still a way of escape. But though this distance, and realizing that, he tried to run unexpected move sent them blundering back more quietly. It was the warehouse district, and off the truck in a tangle, he saw that there possible night-watchmen had to be avoided. were too many others scattered around below SMITHS Louis FANCHEN THEN HE HAD NO FURTHER CHANCE. 132 Everybody's Magazine for him to cope with. They swarmed about was hurrying along close to my home, and like a pack of hounds, and he realized that it I'd have run her down, cap', my own wife.” would go hard with him for the fight he had Kerrigan heard the talk of many voices made. Well, he would make them pay. breaking out at once, and then they hushed. He had wrenched the club from one of the The people were all looking at him. He had men he had tumbled off, and standing tensely drawn himself away from hands that regret- waiting for them, his back to the driver's fully slipped from his shoulders. He stood up seat, he held them irresolute. A head and with an effort, and tried to see clearly through arm rose cautiously over the edge of the seat the ruddy mist gathering before his eyes. behind him, and while they rushed him from This was the man who had struck him all sides, a night-stick thudded against his with the whip—what came after that did skull, and then he had no further chance. not seem to matter. And the woman was his After a while, when they had done their wife. That's what had brought them there duty as they knew it, they dragged him, piti- to speak for him. And they would let him fully mud- and blood-bespattered, to the pre- go; he was slowly trying to grasp it all. Of cinct station. From a distance they saw that course they'd let him go. The woman was outside in the glare of the lights from the the driver's wife; that seemed to count. windows had gathered a crowd. Word of What if she had been some other wom- their coming was passed along. Some one an- ? The pitiful injustice of the price met them at the door. he had paid ... “He's in there--the man he hurt,” he Agroan tore from his heaving chest. With volunteered as they dragged Kerrigan up the clenched hands he raised his arms impotently steps. So the man had not been killed, and before him, and fell forward on his face un- was there to enter a complaint-well, they conscious. had had their satisfaction for their trouble. It was a job well done. A young surgeon from an emergency hos- “Gran'ma's” pital near by passed by them on his way out. He glanced at their captive, and then stopped By Charlotte Wilson and followed. He would be needed. They yanked Kerrigan through the door JT was the cackling of the speckled pullet way and stood blinking in the light inside. I that did it. Until that moment I had Two of them pushed him forward, but he supposed myself to be an ordinary grown swayed and they had to hold him up. He person, passing by a cluttered yard in a stared dully before him. grimy suburb, where a few draggled chickens He had killed a man and fought the police. were scratching about, and a black-and- They had beaten him, and would throw him white goat was engaged in the commendably into a cell, and maybe beat him again. He orthodox pursuit of devouring the label on an had nothing else to expect. He was dimly old tomato can. I have never heard, even in conscious of the crowd around him. A a fairy-tale, of a magician's assuming the woman's voice cried, “Oh, my God!” and form either of a speckled pullet or a black- there seemed to be some commotion. and-white goat. Nevertheless, the speckled The police captain was leaning over the pullet cackled, and behold! it was—it is-a desk. Before him stood a woman, the one summer morning, and I am just waking up who had cried out. She was pointing at the at gran'ma's. pitiable prisoner, and sobbing. She clung It is one of the finest things in life to wake to the arm of a man who, at her gesture, up in the morning and find that I am at turned a bandaged face to Kerrigan and gran'ma's. There is a golden meaning in started toward him. To Kerrigan it seemed the air. For the first radiant instant I am that his voice came from afar off, muffled, quite bewildered; then I remember it all- through the folds of the white linen strips, and my arrival last night with gran’pa in the he had a dull sense of having heard it before. wagon, the blissful feeling in my cramped · The man turned back excitedly to the legs as he lifted me down, the shepherd dog's police captain. joyous yelp of welcome, gran’ma's smile- “It's wrong, cap', I tell you; it's wrong!” wrinkled face as she came down the steps to he exclaimed. He motioned at the woman. take me in her arms, and-oh, vividest vision “I'd have killed her but for what he did. I of all!—the glimpse, as we passed under the Little Stories of Real Life 133 LOUIS FANCHER honeysuckles on the porch, of the lighted She was the red chief's only child supper-table, laden with all the delectables And sought by many a brave; But to the gallant young White Cloud sacred and peculiar to gran'ma's. It all Her plighted troth she gave- comes back to me as I lie looking about the little chamber, all aglow with the sunlight and so on to the catastrophe. The tune is a that bursts through the cracks in the shutters. sort of dirge or chant, weird and moving; and Gran'ma is gone the total effect is from my side, heartrending, and and there is the much to my taste. finest aroma of So I lie and watch coffee creeping the spear of sun- into the chamber; light that strikes and by these to- across the tawny kens I know that deer in the pic- she has slipped ture, until my out long since to eyes close again, get breakfast, and I am in dan- leaving me sleep- ger of floating ing. The air is back into that dim sweet with linden- region of golden blossoms, and dreams whence I full of the busy, came, taking the cheerful noises I Spotted Fawn love so: the "po- with me; when, of track! po-track!” a sudden, I hear of the guinea- the rattle of the fowls, the hysteric tin milk-pails, cackle of an over- and the sound zealous pullet, brings me bolt the pompous, upright at once. foolish enthusiasm of a strutting gobbler; Should I miss the milking, one of the events the clatter of dishes in the kitchen; the noise of my day would be lost. So I hurry into of the iron pump; the cow-bells with their my clothes, putting a stocking on wrong side cheerful morning tinkle, so different from out, and leaving unbuttoned the difficult and the pensive little thread of sound that tangled inaccessible buttons between shoulder-blades; itself among my heart-strings last night; the give a dab or two with the brush at my tangled whistling and laughter of the negroes, and curls, and, as a heroic measure, prepare to one of my uncles singing, already far afield. wash my face in order to get the happy sleep I lift the corner of the curtain and peep out, out of my eyes. The very water at gran'ma's with happy eyes blurred with sleep; it is all is different; for we use water out of a mere a blaze of sunshine across the yellow dog- prosaic well, while gran'ma gets it out of a fennel. My heart leaps in answer to the rain-barrel at the corner of the house. It invitation; I must be up, and dressed, and has a faint, pleasant, pungent odor; and as I out, at once! Yet it is so pleasant here in the plunge my face into it I see in imagination little sun-bathed chamber, with the drowsy the water tumbling down the gutter and fragrance of the linden-blossoms, where the foaming into the barrel as I have often de- bees are humming outside! How well I lightedly watched it do in the fragrant fury know the pictures on the wall, every one of a summer rain-storm. But I am glad it One is a little picture of deer feeding; and I is not raining this morning; I am glad that always associate it with a song gran'ma sings the sun is dazzling across the dog-fennel, called “The Spotted Fawn." As I lie look and that the path down to the cowpen is ing at it, I seem to hear gran’ma's sweet, dusty and white and soft-ah! transporting solemn, quavery voice singing the song: thought! Suppose gran’ma says I may go barefoot—"barefooted," I always say. A On Maccatua's flowery marge little girl may not go barefooted at home; The Spotted Fawn had birth; And grew as fair an Indian girl but at gran'ma's— As ever blest the earth. I emerge at last upon the sunlit porch, I PEEP OUT WITH HAPPY EYES BLURRED WITH SLEEP. 134 Everybody's Magazine just in time to see a ruby-throated humming- that rapture is redeemed by its intensity! At bird dart away from a honeysuckle spray, gran’ma's breakfast-table I take the de- over gran’pa's head. Gran’pa is sitting lighted response of the palate with the primal there with his chair tilted back, mending greed and innocent sense of proprietorship harness and singing a funny tune to himself. with which I lay hold upon any other joy. I He is trying to look very preoccupied and am not of those who have eaten of the tree unconscious, but I know the tune is for my of knowledge of the digestible and the indi- benefit; and as for the harness-mending, I gestible, and become as pessimists; who have regard it, as I do all the other work about thought a raw turnip to be sin, and behold! it the farm, in exactly the light in which I am was sin. Indeed, it is not only from gran’- later on to regard the comic-opera peasants- ma's sunny breakfast-table, and from her merely as picturesque adjuncts to the main savory dinner-table, where chicken and dump- business of my entertainment. (Indeed, ling is but the sumptuous prelude to a crown- when I come to see otherwise, the glory will ing glory of lemon-pie; and from the sweet have departed from gran'ma's; but I am dark supper-table, lighted by a solitary kero- spared that knowledge.) sene lamp, where the smell of the lindens and As I slip into the place gran’ma has saved honeysuckle without blends with the poetry of for me at the breakfast-table, I inquire anx hot biscuits and honey and pear preserves iously whether they have gone to milk yet; within—it is not only from these lawful pleas- for I hear a warning clatter of the pails, and ures that I seldom take harm, but it is the my uncle's receding voice singing in exact rarest thing in the world that my foragings in imitation of the negro intonation: orchard and berry-patch, and along the very O! nebber min' dat win' an' rain, roadside, leave behind them a reminiscent A-ridin' on dat gravel-train! pang. The primitive man, “dependent,” as Put me off an' I'll a-git on again, my school-books of later years are to inform O! a-gwine on to Glory! me, “upon roots and herbs for subsistence," And then, as the same irresistible strain comes could not have found more things, and more back, in a glorious lilt- unlikely things, to eat ing, still receding than I do. I peck at whistle, ending in a still “peppergrass” as per- more distant clatter of sistently as a canary; the pails, I know before for the pods and stalks gran'ma tells me that of the wild oxalis, which they have just gone, and I call “sour-grass," my that if I make haste appetite is insatiable; I with my breakfast I roam the fields chewing may watch them. And sassafras bark, though then, indeed, I am torn I am dimly aware that between two desires; for I do not like the taste before me is a saucer of it; and I have an of oatmeal, and a little odd, unchildlike con- pitcher of thick yellow sciousness, sometimes, cream — the cream at that even after I am home, of course, is white grown up, the flavor of —and a plate of gran'- “mint” will always ma's biscuit, and a dish take me back to the of gran’ma's own gold- shady lane where it en butter, and oh! grows—one of the dear- crowning joy! a cup of est haunts of all, where actual coffee, mild and the birds sing all day rich with cream, which AT HOME I AM NEVER ALLOWED TO DRINK long and the grape- gran'ma assures me vines swing from tree will “do me good”; to tree. I should drink whereas at home I am never allowed to drink the milk of the milkweed if it were not bit- ter, and I must have tasted it at some for- Oh, appetite of first innocence, when eating gotten time to know that it is. I do not know is still an experience, and the grossness of how it happens that I never eat anything A DROP. a drop. Little Stories of Real Life 135 fot. I CREEP INTO MY UNCLE'S ARMS AND NESTLE THERE. violently poisonous, for I have been warned against most of the things I do eat-being, with all my outward docility, the kind of child who catches a bee in her sunbonnet to find out if it will sting, and eats things to see if they are dangerous-nibbling away with the dubious lips and introspective gaze of the taster. But if, by chance, something in the mixture does prove disastrous, there is still balm in Gilead; for on such occa- sions gran'ma gives me Jamaica ginger, weakened with water and sweetened —which I like better, if possible, than any of the offending substances I have eaten. At home mother sometimes gives me Jamaica ginger, but it is a stinging, unattractive dose; for she gives it sternly un- sweetened, objecting on principle to offering a reward for affliction. But at last I tear myself away from the breakfast-table and its delights, and hasten down to the cowpen, where the pretty, thin, shaky little calves, wabbling around on their tentative legs, are huddling about the gate. I am never weary of petting and admiring them. But gran’pa or one of my uncles discovers me and calls to me that I may come in-an invitation I have been shyly awaiting. I draw the bolt and make my way across, past meditative Bess and Cherry and Star and the rest, chewing their cuds and regarding me with a calm and hostile disdain. I will not show that I am afraid, nor would I forego the journey; but my small gingham breast shelters the highest quality of courage, for I have a vivid expectation of being whisked aloft on a pair of sharp horns at any moment, until I am safe at gran’pa's side. Sometimes he lets me milk; but I never penetrate far into the mysteries of the art. He prefers to have me stand by—and I am well content, watching the two strong white streams shoot- ing down into the foaming pail. When at last the bars are raised, and the long file of cows winds down the sumach-bordered road to the pasture, I roam away to seek other diversions. It would be long to tell how I spend the day—the longest, goldenest, brightest day in all the world. I am free to roam where I please: the pastures, the meadows, the garden, the woods—where once in a while I catch a flash of bright eyes and gray tail as a squirrel whisks to the opposite side of a tall live-oak, and where there is always the exhilarat- ingly awful possibility of stepping on a water moc- casin or a rattlesnake. I never grow lonely and never tired—unless it be with the happy weariness of eyes and feet that sends me to rummage in the old bookcase in the little dark room where a picture of my mother as a very little girl hangs upon the wall: a very round-eyed little girl, holding in her hand a flower-stalk out of which several distinct and novel species of flowers are romantically blossom- ing. Ah, the smell of the old volumes, and the delightful sensation of knowing I may read what I choose! I usually choose some immoral work I am forbidden to read at home, because it is "too old for me”- “Bracebridge Hall” or “David Copperfield,” for instance—and more often than not I take it out under the “big basswood” behind the house; and while the white butterflies drift across the dog-fennel, I read, and read, and read, to my heart's content. And then I am off again across the orchard, or perhaps to the field where my uncle is plowing; there to sit on the fence-rail, in a perfect affliction of happiness, sniffing in the odors of the new-plowed ground, while my uncle's voice as he sings at his work comes back across the furrows, and my eye follows the jaunty figure, in flannel shirt and blue overalls, with a passionate ardor of hero- worship. Then, some time in the long brightness of the day comes the dinner-horn; and later on, through the endless hours, a great dark green watermelon is brought cool and dripping from the milk-trough, and we all assemble under the honeysuckle on the porch and discuss its merits as we eat; one uncle being the partizan of the melon we had yesterday, and the other crying up the merits of to-day's, and I, teasingly pressed for my 136 Everybody's Magazine opinion, torn as usual between my two allegiances. The uncle who pets me is my idol; but the uncle who teases me appeals strongly both to the feminine respect for a man who snubs one, and to the infantile passion for a tormentor; and though I am ever loyal to my hero, I am occasionally in sore straits between the two. And while we eat, the chickens and turkeys crowd noisily around the steps, quarreling and scrambling over the seeds; and Bruce, the collie, sits at the teasing uncle's elbow and exhibits his acquired taste for watermelon with great gravity and decorum. And then, at last, as the day wears on, I begin to feel the approach of that time longed for and dreaded—the ineffable coun- try evening, with its loveliness, its loneliness, its unspeakable sweetness. The odors begin to rise; the sun sets across the lane where the mint grows, again for the milking; this time I sit silent upon the fence in the darkness, listening to the foaming milk, and to the contented sighs of the cows, and to the whippoorwill calling, calling, calling. And I look off at the black encircling woods round about me, and up at the fathomless opal blue of the sky, and at the stars looking down. And when the milking is done and supper is over, and the "smoke" is made on the porch to keep off the mosquitoes, and the chairs are drawn out, I creep into my uncle's arms that open for me, and nestle there, silent, the whole evening through- grateful for this dear, partial refuge from the insupportable sweetness of the night. Then, when bedtime is announced, how cheerful and quaint and comforting the old sitting-room looks, with its pictures I cannot remember ever seeing for the first time- pictures of Jesus and Mary and the Beloved Disciple, standing wrapped in purple dra- peries upon clouds of silver. And how good it is to know that I shall sleep with gran’ma in the little chamber, and not alone with the Spotted Fawn as I awakened; and I lift the curtain after I am ready for bed and take a scared peep out across the dark, ghostly yard, where the bees were humming and the dog- fennel was all adazzle this morning. And then, safe in bed, I cuddle close to gran’ma. The smell of the lindens is still in the cham- ber. And outside the whippoorwills call, and the owls hoot, and I fall asleep. Attracting as to an eternal home The yearning soul- with one tall, blasted tree in the field across the road silhouetted black and stark against the west. The far-off tinkle of the cow-bells begins; the first whippoorwill sends its lovely cry piercing swiftly through the dusk. I want my mother, my home—something, I know not what. In a sort of disconsolate ecstasy I follow the men down to the cowpen After Summer Rain By V. F. BOYSON THE wind passes by The still trees and plain, Cool with rain, To the sky. Comes a rift across the wide cloud spaces, Cloud-waves breaking, breaking, breaking, Showing dream worlds in the making, Changing, passing, passing, leaving for last traces Wonders of rainy gold and swan-soft whiteness Lifted far and fair In the luminous air Till the blue has won. Sheer through the living, sparkling brightness, In rainbow gleams across the distance, On the near trees' wet boughs, young leaves, shadow, fire, and earth scent, Streams the sun. PALLS es A Row of Books By JOHAN BARRETT IN the May number of EVERYBODY's Mr. with defiant and inspired passion to voice the bit- Brand Whitlock arraigned the justice and efficacy ter knowledge of his own experience and that of of our penal system in an article entitled “What his inarticulate fellows. His narrative (one can Good Does It Do?" He has, in terms of a differ- hardly call it a story, so completely does it disdain ent medium, expressed the same convictions and the factitious aids of plot and climax and dénoue- asked the same question in his novel “The Turn ment) gives us the history of a Russian mill hand of the Balance" (Bobbs-Merrill). The article, in his struggle for social and intellectual inde- if one may so express it, was his brief in a case in pendence. But the artist in the author has not equity; the novel is his bill of particulars. It as allowed him to discard these traditional supports sumes to lay bare for the inspection of its readers without supplying an element of cohesion to re- a typical cross-section of life in an American city place them. And this element, as the title indi- of the middle West, illustrating in concrete form cates, is the wonderful study of the protagonist's his claim that "there is no criminal class; there is mother. This character is the artistic center of the simply a punished class, or a caught class.” It work; and this ignorant old peasant, who belongs has, and one must assume that it was intended to to another and a less rebellious generation, who have, the effect of a big slice cut at random from understands nothing of her son's studies, or plots, the social layer-cake; a slice which happens, quite or self-dedication, and yet gives herself heart and by accident, to compose into a story. Its real body to his aims, invests the whole grim, plodding interest is sociological, not fictional. Its real tragedy with a pathetic and appealing beauty. achievement is its enabling us to focus the every- day human in the professional thief. It has the temerity to extend itself over some six hundred pages of print, yet so sprinkles them with intrin- sically interesting material as to make them It is eloquent of our attitude toward reading in readable. these helter-skelter times that one instinctively qualifies one's recommendation of any book which, whatever may be its charm of atmosphere or exhalation of personality, does not come There is, however, another new book which, quickly to its particular point and have done with while it belongs, broadly speaking, in the same it. Yet there are, surely, thousands of us to fictional category as Mr. Whitlock's novel, towers whom any book which expresses the leisure that head and shoulders above it both in its artistic we lack is a boon, and to whom quiet intercourse qualities and as a plea for justice. This is Maxim (even in print) with a non-strenuous personality Gorky's “Mother” (Appleton). It also presents, is a rest-cure and a refreshment. Such a book was as it were, a rough chunk, hewn out of life just as “The Belovéd Vagabond," already referred to in it lay and allowed to speak its own message. these notes and well worth referring to again; But it is a chunk of a very different ore, fused and and such a book, on totally different lines, is crystallized in the heat of an inspiration far more Charles D. Stewart's “Partners of Providence" elemental. This method, this "chunk" method, (Century). This represents the attempt of a is essentially modern; it was first developed by young pilot's “cub" on the Missouri River of the European writers; and, skilfully used, it is an in 'Bo's to tell how he played a part in a romantic tensely effective adaptation of art to the purposes episode of the frontier. But the story is only the of propaganda. Mr. Whitlock used it with only rudimentary backbone that prevents the narra- half-hearted courage and to gain a hearing for an tive from being an invertebrate. The boy is altruistic enthusiasm. Gorky has employed it as shrewd, as curious, as inconsequent as any 137 138 Everybody's Magazine other cub. He is off on every tangent. His tions, that it is worth while to read it, though stubby finger is in every pie. And as we follow necessary to read it at the right time. It intro- him, laughing and rejuvenated, the whole river, duces us to an interesting coterie of students and with its rough, haphazard, kaleidoscopic life, un- their elders in the Edinburgh of some fifty years folds before us and takes on the form and color of ago, when the first waves from the religious up- reality. The story is, of its kind, one of the very heaval of the Oxford Movement were breaking on best things of the year. the rocks of the Scotch kirk. It induces us, for no other reason than pure liking for the individuals themselves, to follow their lives for some years, and although the story dwindles to a deferred and negligible conclusion, its impress will linger But the fact remains that the great number of most agreeably as part of our conception of the old city. readers have, in the conditions, neither the op- portunity nor, any longer, the inclination to yield themselves to a book. Except, indeed, in the sense in which we yield ourselves to an electric car-in order to get to some definite place as There are few things that impress themselves quickly as possible. We take a book, as we take more pleasantly upon our minds than the shock a headache powder or a strychnin tablet, for a of being “agreeably disappointed.” When, for definite purpose at a particular moment; and in instance, circumstances throw us into the com- both cases we now have the formula of ingredients pany of an acquaintance whose uttermost depths and the directions for use plainly printed on the we had thought to have fathomed, and the outside of the package. Such books are not result is a revelation of unguessed possibilities. legitimate subjects of criticism. The only office There is some such fillip as this to one's enjoy- of the reviewer in their respect is to try them and ment of Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick's amusing story declare whether, in his opinion, they work. Take, called “The Kinsman " (Macmillan). One dis- for instance, "Poison Island” (Scribner), by A. covers, almost at the beginning, that the story, T. Quiller-Couch. This is a literary strychnin whatever it is to be, turns upon the startlingly tablet, one-thirtieth grain. Its exhilarating ac- perfect physical resemblance between a good-for- tion is almost instantaneous. It is an exciting nothing, self-complacent cockney clerk and his and realistic tale of mysterious (and, incidentally, distant cousin, a gentleman of means and breed- impossible) horrors in the mid-Pacific, told with ing from Australia. And one almost shies at the “Q.'s" quick and accurate grasp of character and clank of the familiar mechanism. The assump- complete absorption in his own inventions. Or, tion, one feels, has been worn until it is positively take "Felicity," the story of the making of a great baggy at the knees, and one hesitates to put it on. comedienne (Scribner), by Clara E. Laughlin. But already something about this cockney Mr. This is a mild and perfectly safe sedative, which Gammage has caught one's attention, and the will induce, without any after-reaction, a grateful further one follows his unspeakable career the consciousness of sensibility and sentiment. It more laughingly does one acquiesce in his ability cannot, however, be swallowed hastily, but must to compensate one for the poor excuse his chroni- be allowed to melt on the tongue-four hundred cler offers for the introduction. The plot wears and odd pages of it. the cap and bells quite frankly from first to last. But Mr. Gammage and his lady-loves are flesh and blood beneath the motley. From a certain point of view, and very casually speaking, we may, I take it, classify the returns that we draw from the common run of current It might now be a good plan to take a turn fiction under the two heads of entertainment and through that part of the literary field where the companionship. We may, for instance, draw short-story crop is waiting to be harvested-or entertainment (and that of the liveliest order) would it be more appropriate to say picked? since from a story whose characters concern us no one does not harvest garden truck and the com- more than the tumblers at a circus. Or we maymon or garden short story makes up an over- find the pleasure of almost actual intimacy with whelming proportion of the season's yield. In characters whose story, in outline, has neither fact, while the total visible supply is more abun- dramatic force nor sympathetic appeal. The dant this spring than for several years, there is but choice is a matter of temperament; or, if one is one volume that may be classed with the grains fortunate enough to have a catholic taste, of mood rather than with the vegetables. This is Israel and the moment's need. "Growth” (Henry Zangwill's “Ghetto Comedies" (Macmillan), a Holt), by Graham Travers, is a novel that belongs collection of some fifteen studies and stories so indisputably in the second division and yet of London and New York types. They are offers such pleasant company in spite of its limita- comedies only in the sense of being based upon A Row of Books 139 the humor of pathetic things or upon the pathetic incongruity of tragic ones. But it is here that Mr. Zangwill's humor excels. His forte is the Jew d'esprit, not the jeu d'esprit, as those who recall “The Celibates' Club" will confess. No more tenderly clear-sighted picture, for instance, was ever given us than that of the bafflingly guile- ful guilelessness of the expatriated Hebrew in the first story of this volume, “The Model of Sor- rows.” nish of Carl Ewald, and called “The Spider” (Scribner). It is written in the attitude of respect- ful seriousness toward nonsense that children love, and at the same time illustrates very subtly the author's ideas in regard to educational candor. But the humbler tales, no less than the radishes and lettuces, have their uses and their welcome. F. Hopkinson Smith spins a characteristically genial lot of his half-reminiscent yarns in “The Veiled Lady” (Scribner); yarns that he has spun from a glimpsed face or a chance word, caught in passing up and down the world. As always, his writing carries with it the cozy sug- gestion of drawn blinds, a crackling fire, and the personal presence of the narrator." And Robert W. Chambers, in “The Tree of Heaven” (Ap- pleton), has let his versatile enthusiasm play for a while in the ghostly precincts of the Society for Psychical Research. His tales vary greatly in the measure of their convincingness, but several of them are quite successfully and satisfactorily creepy. “The Pickwick Ladle" (Scribner) includes a half-dozen stories by Winfield Scott Moody, which are striking chiefly on account of their novelty. They deal with the joys and perils of the chase of antique furniture and oriental porcelains; and what they lack in crispness of construction they make up in the presentation of the happy hunting-grounds and the esoteric jar- gon of this engrossing hobby. OTHER BOOKS “Ackroyd of the Faculty”—(Little, Brown). A story of considerable merit by Anna Chapin Ray, depicting a difficult adjustment between the professional democracy and the social exclusive- ness of a university town. “Langford of the Three Bars”—(A. C. Mc- Clurg). A story of cattle thieves and the open range, written by Kate and Virgil D. Boyles, and a pleasant variant of the conventional ranch fiction. “Where the Trail Divides”—(Dodd, Mead). By Will Lillibridge. Another cowboy fiction, but with an Indian hero and a grandiloquent manner that suggests a cross between the Last of the Mohicans and Pizen Spider Bill. “As The Hague Ordains”—(Henry Holt). An interesting volume which purports to be the diary of a Russian lady attending her husband in the Japanese war prison at Matsuyama. Jo “Studies in Pictures"-(Scribner). By John C. Van Dyke. A handbook on the European galleries for the conversational guidance of the traveling Philistine. “The Efficient Life”—(Doubleday, Page). By Doctor Luther H. Gulick. One of the best of the recent horde of guides to health, which we read with enthusiasm and forget with alacrity. “The Truth about the Congo”—(Forbes). A reprint of reprint of Prof. Frederick Starr's articles in the Chicago Tribune, giving his opinions based upon a year's residence and investigation. “The Ferry of Fate" _ (Duffield). By Samuel Gordon. A story of two Jewish students of southern Russia, which works itself laboriously into an unimpressive tragedy. “Under the Sun”-(Doubleday, Page). A vol- ume of impressionistic but enjoyable chapters upon various cities of India, by Percival Landor. More confidently recommended to travelers than to stay-at-homes. This by no means exhausts the supply. “Ti supply T. berius Smith” (Harper) is the title of a volume of Munchausen-like tales by Hugh Pendexter, told in a vein of sustained high-pressure slang that is more amazing than the adventures of their hero. “Smith of Bear City” (Grafton) is a book of Western stories written by one George T. Buffum, who has made very bad fiction out of some very good facts, under the mistaken im- pression that the only difference is one of diction; very much as some people keep a special voice to read aloud in. Finally, there is a little volume of stories for children, translated from the Da- MAA Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree EDITOR'S NOTE.-A good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. Our read- ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. Though the sign is the Chestnut Tree, no story is barred by its youth. The younger the better. We shall gladly pay for available ones. Address all manuscripts to “The Chestnut Tree." The following appeal of a Western editor is “Whereupon the old soldier immediately drew still going the rounds, although it is to be hoped his sword and cut off his other arm." that by this time the writer's only trouble is in There is no particular reason to doubt this having his vest made large enough: story. The only question is, how did he do it? “We see by an esteemed contemporary that a young lady in Chicago is so particular that she kneads bread with her gloves on. What of that? The editor of this paper needs bread with his coat on; he needs bread with his trousers on; in “Don't you want to buy a bicycle to ride around fact he needs bread with all of his clothes on. your farm on?" asked the hardware clerk, as he And if some of his creditors don't pay up pretty was wrapping up the nails. “They're cheap quick he'll need bread without anything at all now. I can let you have a first-class one for on, and this Western climate is no Garden of $35.. Eden." “I'd rather put $35 in a cow," replied the farmer. “But think,” persisted the clerk, "how foolish you'd look riding around town on a cow." "They thought more of the Legion of Honor “Oh, I don't know," said the farmer, stroking in the time of the first Napoleon than they do his chin: "no more foolish. I guess, than I would now,” said a well-known Frenchman. "The milkin' a bicycle." emperor one day met an old one-armed veteran. “How did you lose your arm?' he asked. "Sire, at Austerlitz.' "And were you not decorated?' Shortly after two o'clock one bitter winter "No, sire.' morning a physician drove four miles in answer "Then here is my own cross for you; I make to a telephone call. On his arrival the man who you chevalier.' had summoned him said: “Your Majesty names me chevalier because “Doctor, I ain't in any particular pain, but I have lost one arm! What would your Majesty somehow or other I've got a feeling that death is have done had I lost both arms?' nigh." "Oh, in that case I should have made you The doctor felt the man's pulse and listened to Officer of the Legion.' his heart.. 140 Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree 141 “The husband takes off his coat, draws a re- volver, and in the midst of the silent embrace of hero and heroine, fires. “The young woman falls dead. "He fires again. The young man falls dead. "Then the murderer comes forward, puts on a pair of eyeglasses, and proceeds to contemplate his sanguinary work. “Great heavens!' he exclaims, 'I am on the wrong floor."" “Have you made your will?” he asked finally. The man turned pale. “Why, no, doctor. At my age-oh, doc, it ain't true, is it? It can't be true “Who's your lawyer?” “Higginbotham, but- “Then you'd better send for him at once." The patient, white and trembling, went to the 'phone. “Who's your pastor?” continued the doctor. “The Rev. Kellogg M. Brown," mumbled the patient. “But, doctor, do you think- " "Send for him immediately. Your father, too, should be summoned; also your— " "Say, doctor, do you really think I'm going to die?” The man began to blubber softly, The doctor looked at him hard. “No, I don't," he replied grimly. “There's nothing at all the matter with you. But I'd hate to be the only man you've made a fool of on a night like this." A wizened little Irishman applied for a job loading a ship. At first they said he was too small, but he finally persuaded them to give him a trial. He seemed to be making good, and they gradually increased the size of his load until on the last trip he was carrying a 300-pound anvil under each arm. When he was half-way across the gangplank it broke and the Irishman fell in With a great splashing and spluttering he came to the surface. “T'row me a rope!” he shouted, and again sank. A second time he rose to the surface. “T'row me a rope, I say!” he shouted again. Once more he sank. A third time he rose struggling. "Say!” he spluttered angrily, “if one uv you shpalpeens don't hurry up an' t'row me a rope I'm goin' to drop one uv these damn t’ings!” In a New York street a wagon loaded with lamp globes collided with a truck and many of the globes were smashed. Considerable sym- pathy was felt for the driver as he gazed ruefully at the shattered fragments. A benevolent-look- ing old gentleman eyed him compassionately. "My poor man," he said, "I suppose you will have to make good this loss out of your own pocket?” “Yep," was the melancholy reply. "Well, well,” said the philanthropic old gentleman, "hold out your hat-here's a quarter for you; and I dare say some of these other people will give you a helping hand, too." The driver held out his hat and several per- sons hastened to drop coins in it. At last, when the contributions had ceased, he emptied the contents of his hat into his pocket. Then, pointing to the retreating figure of the philan- thropist who had started the collection, he ob- served: “Say, maybe he ain't the wise guy! That's me boss!” Tactful and delicate, even for a Frenchman, was the reply made by a Parisian who had not found "a life on the ocean wave" all for which one could wish. He was sinking, pale and haggard, into his steamer-chair when his neigh- bor cheerily asked: “Have you breakfasted, monsieur?” “No, m'sieur," answered the Frenchman with a wan smile, “I have not breakfasted. On the contrary!” “What I want,” Francis Wilson told an ama- teur dramatist, “is a bright, frothy tragedy- something crisp and snappy.” “How do you mean?" asked the would be author, slightly puzzled. “Can you give me an idea?” "Oh, yes,” said Wilson. “Here's one. Just a little thing in one act, you know. “When the curtain goes up two persons are discovered on a sofa, one a pretty young woman, the other a nice-looking young man. They embrace. Neither says a word. Then a door opens at the back and a commercial traveler enters. He wears an overcoat and carries an umbrella. You can tell at once by his manner that he is the husband of the young woman. At least that would be the natural inference of every discriminating playgoer. A pompous Bishop of Oxford was once stopped on a London street by a ragged urchin. “Well, my little man, and what can I do for you?” inquired the churchman. “The time o' day, please, your lordship.” With considerable difficulty the portly bishop extracted his timepiece. “It is exactly half past five, my lad." “Well," said the boy, setting his feet for a good start, “at 'alf past six you go to 'ell!”—and he was off like a flash and around the corner. The bishop, flushed and furious, his watch dangling from its chain, floundered wildly after him. 142 Everybody's Magazine can possibly get, and then burning out. Do I win my bet?" “Vell,” replied Abe, "you don't egsactly vin, but the idea is worth de money. Take id." But as he rounded the corner he ran plump into the outstretched arms of the venerable Bishop of London. “Oxford, Oxford,” remonstrated that surprised dignitary, "why this unseemly haste?” Puffing, blowing, spluttering, the outraged Bishop gasped out: “That young ragamuffin- I told him it was half past five--and he-er- told me to go to hell at half past six.” “Yes, yes,” said the Bishop of London with the suspicion of a twinkle in his kindly old eyes, “but why such haste? You've got almost an hour." A Boston lawyer, who brought his wit from his native Dublin, while cross-examining the plaintiff in a divorce trial, brought forth the following: “You wish to divorce this woman because she drinks?" “Yes, sir." “Do you drink yourself?” “That's my business!”-angrily. Whereupon the unmoved lawyer asked: “Have you any other business?” A certain young society man was much given to telling exaggerated stories and was rapidly gaining a reputation for untruthfulness which worried his friends and particularly his chum, who remonstrated with him and threatened to disown him if he did not mend his ways. “Charlie,” said he, "you must stop this big story business of yours or you are going to lose me as a friend. Nobody believes a word you say, and you are getting to be a laughing-stock.” Charlie admitted that he was aware of the fact but complained that he could not overcome his fault, try as he would. He suggested that had he but somebody beside him when he started to elaborate upon his tale, to tread on his foot, he was sure he could break the habit. A few days later they were invited to a dinner party and his chum agreed to sit next to Charlie and step on his toe if he went too far. All went well until the subject of travel was brought up. One of the company told of an immense building that he had seen when on a trip up the Nile. This started Charlie, who at once began to de- scribe a remarkable building he had seen while on a hunting trip on the northern border of India. "It was one of the most remarkable buildings, I presume, in the world," said he. “Its dimen- sions we found to be three miles in length, two miles in height, and”-as his watchful friend trod on his toe-"two feet wide.” Uncle Toby was aghast at finding a strange darkey with his arm around Mandy's waist. "Mandy, tell dat niggah to take his ahm 'way from round yo'waist,” he indignantly com- manded. “Tell him yo'self,” said Mandy, haughtily. "He's a puffect stranger to me.” While an Irishman was gazing in the window of a Washington bookstore the following sign caught his eye: DICKENS' Works ALL THIS WEEK FOR ONLY $4.00. "The divvle he does!” exclaimed Pat in dis- gust. “The dirty scab!” No amount of persuasion or punishment could keep Johnnie from running away. The excite- ment of being pursued and of being brought back to a tearful family appealed to his sense of the dramatic and offset the slight discomfort that sometimes followed. Finally his mother determined upon a new method. She decided, after many misgivings, that the next time Johnnie ran away no notice whatever should be taken of it. He should stay away as long as he pleased and return when he saw fit. In a few days the youngster again disappeared. His mother was firm in her resolve and no search was made. Great was poor Johnnie's disap- pointment. He managed to stay away all day, but when it began to grow dark his courage failed and he started for home. He sneaked ignominiously into the kitchen. Nobody spoke to him. Apparently his absence had not been noticed. This was too much. As soon as opportunity offered he remarked casually, “Well, I see you've got the same old cat.” A Jew crossing the Brooklyn Bridge met a friend who said, “Abe, I'll bet you ten dollars that I can tell you exactly what you're thinking about.” "Vell," agreed Abe, producing a greasy bill, “I'll haf to take dot bet. Put up your money." The friend produced two fives. “Abe," he said, "you are thinking of going over to Brooklyn, buying a small stock of goods, renting a small store, taking out all the fire-insurance that you With “Everybody's" Publishers W E have been asked so often, “How do But this stream that flows in by way of the V you get the material for your maga- morning mail, even when swelled by the zine, anyway?" that it has occurred to us that tributaries of solicited manuscripts, proves our readers, as a whole, might like to hear the deficient in certain qualities essential to a answer. You know that, with about twenty good popular monthly. It is the articles items to a monthly table of contents, we use that give a magazine its distinctive quality. in a year only 240 contributions. And when And when it comes to getting articles that we tell you that a stream of something like shall be timely and vital, that shall deal 13,000 manuscripts not directly solicited by with the big problems of the day, we have us flowed into our office last year, you may to do more than select and solicit. We think that all we needed was a dipper. But have told you how “Frenzied Finance" it isn't really so easy. For one thing, we have was suggested to one of the publishers by a to be careful where we dip. newspaper clipping, and how our editor-in- These manuscripts are read by editors who chief camped outside Mr. Lawson's door for know a good story or a good idea whether it three days till he got a hearing. You know, bears the name of John Smith or Booth too, how we sent Mr. Russell around the Tarkington, and who, above all else, are world to report on “Soldiers of the Common perpetually hopeful of making “discoveries.” Good.” Most of our shorter series and When they find something that they consider single articles on important subjects have also good, they pass it on to the rest, each editor originated in the office, or have been carefully voting. If the final decision is negative, the developed here from outside suggestions. For writer gets a courteous and interested letter, our editors are constantly alert to suggestion and an invitation to try again. This is one from any source-newspaper, letter, or con- way to keep the stream flowing. If the versation. We suggest to one another, and manuscript is almost good enough, the editor then follows a process of weighing, discussing, becomes a volunteer prescribing physician, and reweighing. We have a card on which and suggests a way to make it right. our employees outside of the editorial depart- Names alone do not count, and a good per ment may make suggestions, to be paid for if cent. of our best contributors have been available. And, on the same terms, we invite “dipped” up when their names had no all our readers to submit ideas for consid- value. More than twenty per cent. of thé eration. stories that we bought from May, 1906, to A subject once agreed upon, we must find May, 1907, and thirty-three per cent. of the a man to handle it. And there's the rub. poems, were by unknown authors. That “The Players ” is always written by the same doesn't agree with the picture of editors flip- man, the book reviewing goes to another, and ping the stories of obscure writers back into the editors lend a hand, but for the rest we do the mail-basket, does it? Yet, since we want not employ a fixed staff of writers. Author, the best material obtainable, we must seek subject, and method have to be fitted to- out, too, the trained writers. To be sure, their gether — and it's a constant puzzle, often volunteer contributions make up no incon taking a long time to solve. For instance: siderable proportion of the 13,000, but to help we decided upon a series on Overcapital- matters along, we have one editor whose ization, a subject that we believed was im- chief business it is to ask experienced writers mensely important. We decided how we to submit manuscripts for consideration. We wanted to treat it. But we could not decide have, besides, an agent who works to the on a man. The right man must be un- same end among English authors. But we prejudiced, must understand financial con- seldom order a story, and never without the ditions in the United States both broadly and provision that it may be returned if not up to minutely, and must know how to describe our standard. them so that all could comprehend. It was 143 144 Everybody's Magazine thot actually weeks before we found him-in Mr. side? Have you stood appalled on the brink Will Payne. of the Grand Cañon? Have you seen Yo- Really a good deal more complex than semite and Yellowstone? Have you--but dipping, isn't it? what's the use?—the catalogue would fill an entire magazine. The point is—make your plans to see your own country. Not rushing VACATIONS round like a lunatic, trying to take it all in at HAVE you ever stopped to think of the one gulp, but leisurely, giving yourself time remarkable change that has taken place in the to digest what you see, and above all to get last few years in the matter of vacations? acquainted with your countrymen. What's Nowadays nearly everybody gets his annual that?—you can't afford it? You can't afford outing. Business men have come to realize not to do it. that it is good business for employers and While the railroads are getting hammered employees alike to get away from the grind, for so many things, it is well to remember if only for a little while. that they more than any other agency have Perhaps no one needs the annual change developed our country, and that with their so much as the housewife, with her never- inexpensive and comfortable tourists' trains ending round of unvarying duties-seeing the and their extensive advertising, they are same faces, however beloved, day in and day to-day doing more than any other agency to out; the same dishes; the same pictures; the educate America broadly and to refine her. same carpets; the same books; the same But, you say, they are doing it to make neighbors; the same church. It's a wonder money. So they are. So all of us do what she doesn't join a union and go on a strike. we are doing to make money. We need it Fortunately, her man has waked up to the in our business. Fortunate we, if, while we fact that the burdens of life bear hardest upon are making money, we have the satisfaction her. He is more and more insisting that of knowing that we are also helping along a she get away a few weeks every year for a good work; and the railroads and summer complete rest. It is well. Only infrequently resorts certainly are doing that very thing. will you run across a man who hasn't sense Shouldn't the man who is tempted away from enough to give and take vacations. His his work long enough to take one of these trips, family is to be pitied. Now and then you and who returns with a beautiful memory, a find a man who knows the value of an outing bigger knowledge, and a new zeal-shouldn't and insists that wife and children have theirs, such a man be grateful to the railroad or the but says he just can't afford to go himself. His summer resort that spent money to place the wife should refuse to budge without him. That tempting advertisement where he would see it? type of man can always be brought round. Have you any idea of the amount of money America is destined to be, if she is not that is spent in this kind of advertising? already, the greatest nation on the footstool. Let's see. We have in this July EVERY- Reading and travel will do wonders for BODY'S 15 pages at $500 a page; that's over America during the twentieth century. And $7,500 in one magazine one month. When the travel that will do the most good is not you add what all the magazines carry globe-trotting but travel in our own country. and multiply it by twelve months, you Whenever an Eastern man goes West, or will begin to get some idea of the enor- a Western man East, or a Middle States mous sums spent in this sort of advertising. man East or West, North or South, he is Our magazine is hardly the best measuring binding the tie that blesses. Whatever busi- stick, however. We carry considerably more ness or profession a man is engaged in, a trip than the average. You see, we believe in to any other section of his country enriches this business especially because it permits us while it entertains him. in our advertising pages, as well as in our Friend, have you ever seen Washington's editorial pages, to help along what we con- Tomb or Bunker Hill, Grant's Tomb or the ceive to be the common good. On that Statue of Liberty? Have you toured the Great account we have worked harder to get this Lakes or sailed down the Mississippi? Did business than the other magazines. Would you go to Niagara on your wedding-tour? you mind just thumbing through the fifteen Have you seen the Mardi Gras at New Or- pages, if only as a favor to us and a com- leans or the Rose Carnival at Pasadena? Have pliment to our advertising patrons? Inciden- you driven through the orange groves of River- tally, you may solve your vacation problem. August “You should be flogged for theft; the gods do not let those flowers bloom for such as you!” -“White Ius.' EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE VOL. XVII AUGUST 1907 NO 2 WHITE TRIS A ROMANCE OF THE NEW JAPA:V бу MARY FENOLLOSA (SYDNEY M CALL) AUTHOR OF TRUTH DEXTER", THE BREATH OF THE GODS eta ILLUSTRATIONS By C.B.1A.L.S. AMONG the nobles of the the name “Ayamè,” trans- A Shogun's Court at Yed- mitting, in human form, the do, just before the demolition beauty and delicacy of a floral of that exotic dynasty in the sisterhood. At the present year 1868, there was none time there was but one child more proud, conservative, or in the big besso, a daughter self-satisfied than Goji Suyè- with the family name and the mon Nota no Kami, Daimyo traditional loveliness for sweet of the Province of Nota. Be- inheritance. sides his castle with its fortified town and But Goji himself was of sterner stuff. agricultural villages, he owned a city resi- He desired ardently a son, and was not dence surrounded by military barracks always at pains to conceal his disappoint- called yashiki. Also, in the outskirts of ment. The interests of the court, rather the capital, at the edge of the broad than of home, engrossed him. His loyalty Sumida River, stood his besso or country to the Shogun was remarkable even in a villa, and this, with its beautiful gardens race of idealists, and blinded him to com- where the white iris grew, was the favorite ing dangers, which others had begun to spot of earth to Goji Suyèmon. discern. Rumors of national dissatisfac- Now about these particular white blos- ; ? tion with the Shogunate did not reach his soms a delicate fancy hung. Other flower- haughty eminence; plots to restore the loving noblemen might possess varieties boy-emperor Mutsuhito to his throne of the rare and valuable a yame, but none had no whisper keen enough to find the of them could be brought to equal the daimyo's averted ear. kind that clustered about the edges of The Revolution, when indeed it came, the long, pear-shaped pond of the Goji was to Goji an unheralded lightning garden. From father to son, through stroke of ruin. He fought blindly, throw- seven generations they had come; and it ing men and wealth into the service of his was current belief that they could not: master. When the struggle was ended and flourish except in this one spot and under the daimyoates were abolished, Goji, like the care of a blood descendant of the many others of his class, soon lost through Goji clan. So intimate, indeed, was the ignorant speculation the national bonds family relationship to the blossoms that ! given as compensation for his lands. He a daughter of the house had always borne found his retainers scattered, his castle Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. 148 Everybody's Magazine and yashiki taken, and his income practically hatred. It was addressed to “Mr. Goji gone. Dazed and astounded by these suc- Suyèmon, ex-daimyo of Nota," and went as cessive blows of fate, he emerged, broken follows: in mind and body, from a contest not yet clearly realized. Only a single home, his Having ascertained from your creditors that the A yamè-besso, where, through their clemency, you are country besso, was left to him. To this he still allowed to live, is soon to be put up at public and the Lady Goji, with the child Ayamè sale, I wish to inform you that I have secured, in and a ragged little train of servitors, now re- my own person, sole right to be your purchaser. I tired. now write to offer you the sum of 5,000 yen. This will cover your present mortgages and various finan- Meanwhile, to the despised heimin, the la- cial obligations (with which I am minutely ac- borers, merchants, and artisans of Japan, quainted), and will leave a few hundred yen between the political turmoil brought great opportu- you and beggary. This liberal offer is made, how- nities. A quick wit, agile adaptation to new ever, strictly under the following conditions: I am to receive the place exactly as it is at this moment conditions, intelligent apprehension of what of writing. No article of furniture, rug, mat, screen, this “foreign" influence was to mean, opened shoji, or fusuma is to be removed, and from the highroads to swift material advance. And garden nothing taken, no stone, tree, slip of plant, just as poor Goji was one of those most surely root, bulb, or blade of grass. Especially the roots of the white iris must not be touched. For further predestined to ruin by the downfall of the particulars communicate with my lawyer, S. Uno, feudal caste, so, from his lower stratum of No. 16 Kobayashi-machi, Tokio. life, was Mori Jingoro one of those most in- evitably to rise. The two had known each As if this epistle, with its hideous foreign other in boyhood—that is, Mori had known twang and lack of honorifics, were not insult- the young daimyo by sight, and had gazed ing enough, he signed himself, “Your cred- enviously upon him at those times when itor-in-chief, J. Mori.” It was on foreign the shoemaker to whom he was bound sent paper, in a square envelope crested in gold him to the Goji-yashiki with clogs for the with the name of his bank. He folded, common soldiers. The injustice of inequali- sealed, and stamped the missive in slow en- ties of birth had stung the apprentice even joyment, and then sent it to the post-office, then. well knowing that, before the Restoration, he On one occasion he had gone, tingling might have been imprisoned for a lesser of- with excitement at the privilege, to the beau- fense. tiful Ayamè-besso itself. It was at the time Goji, alone in the great cool guest-room of of iris flowering. He had never forgotten his villa, sat with folded arms and lowered the wonder of that fringe of bloom. Re- chin, brooding, as had become his habit, upon turning through the garden to the servants' the evil of the days around him. The for- quarters, he had found lying in his pathway eign-looking letter, presented by a servant, a single, long-stemmed flower; plucked, doubt- gave him a premonitory thrill of antipathy, less, by some high-born hand, fondled a mo- even before a glimpse of the vulgar, unknown ment, and then cast aside. The plebeian handwriting brought a deeper disgust. He boy lifted it reverently, gloating over it with tossed it aside, and would have resumed his all the inherent beauty-love of his race. A mournful reverie, but the square thing on the rude awakening had come with a blow from mats troubled him. With an exclamation of a flat sword, and a loud, indignant voice impatience he tore it open. Twice he read- commanding, “Put down the ayamè, lout! thrice-a slow, dull rage mounting upward to You should be flogged for theft; the gods do his brain. Sudden passion seized him. He not let those flowers bloom for such as you!” rent the insulting pages, thrust them into his Even now, years after, as Mori sat writing a mouth, chewed and spat them forth. He letter to the unfortunate Goji, the old scar tried to clap his hands to summon an attend- glowed across his heart, and the memoryant, but his twitching muscles refused obe- of young flashing eyes (now, indeed, dull and dience. He called aloud, “Wife! Ayamè!” sad enough) roused in him a bitterness that At the sound of the strained, thickened voice sought to soothe itself with insult. Mr. J. the two came like light, but, even then, were Mori had become a man of business, a money- too late. Goji Suyèmon no Nota had fallen, lender and a banker. He approved of the face down, to the mats, and lay there a pur- foreign method, and aped its externals. This pled, convulsed mass. Before midnight of letter he now wrote was the last act of a that day, still speechless, and apparently long revenge, the triumph of an implacable without recognition of the two agonized faces White Iris 149 w loc leaning above him, the last male of the race something in the lady's cool, level gaze, in of Goji passed from earth. the young girl's slightly uplifted chin, that J. Mori had long since fortified himself made him feel as he used to feel, years be- with an attorney, the fore, when cringing at “S. Uno" referred to the roadside to let the in his letter. This daimyo's train pass young man was in- by. There was no deed a valuable assist- help for it! Bow and ant, having set him- squirm he must-and self to acquire all this he did, the tail methods of sharp of his eye licking the practise in law known while rare screens and to our Western courts. lacquered surfaces. The delicate business So, like an assassin, of negotiating with the rather than a con- bereaved Goji ladies queror, he delivered now fell to his lot. his last blow. The He soon ascertained chief motive for his that they knew noth- call, he now informed ing of Mori's letter them, was pure gen- to the dead master. erosity. Since it would He found too, much be impossible for any to his gratification, cash payment to be that though the ladies made until the late were connected more owner's liabilities were or less distantly with known, he wished to half the noble families offer the afflicted of Japan, they wished ladies the shelter of to keep their present a certain little cottage straitened and humili- just in the rear of the ating circumstances as A yamè-besso — some- secret as possible. what damp as a resi- All this was pleas- dence, to be sure, ant hearing to the rich since the large iris J. Mori. In his new pond emptied just capacity of generous there, but, at least, purchaser of an en- a place of retirement cumbered piece of and seclusion until property, he even ven- more favorable ar- tured the familiarity rangements could be of a personal call. He made. drove to the Ayamè- Something in the besso in his carriage, oily voice made newly arrived from Ayamè look at him France, and bore with with keener scrutiny. him as a gift of con- Sorrow was beginning dolence a huge box of to teach her a little of highly colored sweet- this new world into meats. which they were driv- The ladies received en. Could it be that him simply, bowing A SLOW, DULL RAGE MOUNTING UPWARD the parvenu wished to to him as they might have them near that to any plebeian to . he might more con- whom their misfor- veniently gloat upon tune had given approach. Strangely enough, the family ruin? When it came to her that in their presence his self-satisfaction began he was offering them a little darkened hut to diminish. In spite of effort, there was under the north bank of the garden, where TO HIS BRAIN. 150 Everybody's Magazine formerly only stable boys had been allowed “We cannot leave too soon, now that you to live, her suspicions of his personal enmity say the place is yours!” were confirmed. She met his eyes with scorn, “To-day!” faltered the Lady Goji. The and would have refused at once the hypo- sudden pallor of her face was balm to J. critical boon, but that the Lady Goji, with a Mori. gesture, restrained her. “Oh, such very great haste is not neces- “Mother, do you honorably understand sary! To-morrow—or even the day after" what place it is that the person offers us?” He waved a fat and condescending hand. she asked in a low voice. The Lady Goji shivered. “Ayamè is The elder lady bowed. Her whisper did right. We go to-day!” not reach Mori's ear; but Ayamè heard- “Even so, dear child, rather would I be a few hours later, in the wretched hut at little longer near the home your father loved." the northern end of their former estate, the Again the girl flashed scorn upon her vis- two high-born ladies, just arrived, gazed itor. “For the present we accept your most about them with eves that, at first, seemed noble offer, Mr. J. Mori,” said she, with incapable of realizing the squalor. The one curling lip. old servant, Su, whom they had allowed to Mori bowed far over. His own mouth share their poverty and exile, burst into tears twitched. The scar was red on his heart. and then, aghast at her own indelicacy, re- “How like she is to her father when he struck me on that day so many years ago," the successful man was thinking. Mumbling some commonplace re- mark, he gained his feet. Immedi- ately the ladies rose, and one of them clapped for a servant who should escort him to the door. He knew well enough that, with a visitor of their own class, they would have followed to the threshold of the en- trance, bowing, smiling, and calling out “Sayonara!!! until the carriage or jinrikisha rolled from sight. He hated himself that such an omission could sting him, and, in the hurt of it, asked rudely, “When can you get out?” “At once! To-day!" flashed Ayamè. tired in haste to a blackened closet that eventually turned out to be the kitchen. "Mother, mother!” cried the girl aloud; then, despairing of giving voice to so huge a woe, she fell into sobbing silence, and hid her face against her mother's sleeve. Not a tremor came to the slender, upright figure of the elder woman. When she spoke, her words had the same slow, measured sweetness, the same overtones of nobility and high breeding that her speech had always held. “Look up, my flower. These are not things to suffer for. What surrounds us, what we wear and what eat, so that it serve to nourish life, has no reality. Even in such a place as this I am content to live White Iris 151 and be not too far away from memory.” "I could endure it-and old Su San—" the girl broke out again passionately. “But for you!” Lady Goji patted the shining head. “Yet it would appear that I am less rebellious than either my daughter or our good Su.” “Yes—I am not worthy of you -I will be!" said the girl, clench- ing her hands, and making a long, defiant survey of the wretched house. “When the place is clean, with flowers and a poem in the tokonoma- But, mother, that open grave of a garden!” She flung a hand outward, and an hysterical relinquishments," assented the other. “The young lawyer as- sured me that the iris-blooms were the chief attraction to that person. And, my child, though an unhappy fact for us, the motive is not incomprehensible. You have often heard how, in the old days, many noble friends desired in vain a growth of those same flowers. Why not, then, this churl, who, with his great wealth, hopes to imitate a class he can never enter?” “Well, they are his now, and I pray heartily that they may all die for him as they did for that proud Shogun a hundred years laugh met the sob in her throat. ... “Is ago when he forced my great grandfather to that to be our garden?” send him half the roots!” It was a depressing view indeed; a shape- “My daughter!” admonished the Lady less pocket of soggy earth shelving upward to Goji in a voice meant to be severe; but there an oozing bank; with a few tumbled stones was an answering flash in her dark eyes. She and spires of rank weeds for all its planting. hesitated a moment, and then said slowly: “In “We will summon our old ka go-bearer, truth the flowers may never bloom for their Shika, to delve for us," said the mother new master unless his gardeners know the se- soothingly. “We will fashion for ourselves cret of their care. Most kinds of iris demand a fairy pond, set the stones aright, and have a flood of water to open their buds; these him bring us tufts of fern and wild grasses alone reach perfection through a decrease of from the hills beyond the city. Even a poor moisture. On the day before full opening, place like this may grow fair, if one believe we always drained the water quite away in it and love it." from the roots, and strewed a thick snow of “Yet it must always be without a yamè white pebbles. I did not think to mention blooms, without the flower for which I am this to the advocate Uno, nor to his master. named," said the girl sadly. “Mu-a ! but it Perhaps it is still my duty ”. was the nudge of a demon that made the “Oh, no! dearest Okusama, it is not your parvenu Mori so strictly claim all roots and duty. I assure you it is not in the least your seedlings of our family flower!” duty!” cried out' the girl. “Oh, it is some- "It was truly the keenest pang of all thing saved to us. The blessed flowers may 152 Everybody's Magazine not open; and think of his frog-like face when they refuse. It will be one thing that his usurer wealth cannot buy. Oh, O-kusan, O-kusan, they are my sisters; they belong to me. You must not give away our secret!” In the reaction from her late despair, this poor triumph mounted like wine through the girl's young veins. "Promise, promise!” she insisted, seizing her mother's hands and shaking them impetuously. “It is all you can do now for Ayamè of the Gojis. Say you will not betray us!” And the mother, reluctant to give sanction to a thing unworthy, yet half glad that the strong young soul before her forced the pledge, nodded a shamed assent. Then Avamè, laughing aloud, leaped to the very center of the mud plot of a garden, dancing the iris dance, and giving the beautiful words of the classic song: The iris flower is set with swords Let him who fears, stand far- 05 I ON THE MOTHER HAD CAUGHT ONE GLIMPSE OF A YOUNG GIRL ON A TINY VERAN. DA. Not to be outdone by any such swiftness of decision as had been shown by the Goji ladies, J. Mori, assisted by the invaluable S. Uno, at once had hired and turned into the precincts of the A yamè-besso a small army of house-cleaners, carpenters, and gardeners. His usual explanation of the indelicate haste was that he had set his heart on having the property in perfect order before displaying it to his heir, the boy Hiro, now at school. As yet no blade of iris leaf had pricked the leaden borders of the pond. J. Mori was anxious to be there at the beginning of growth, to gloat, at his leisure, over each successive stage of acquirement. And, apparently, just because he had willed it, upon that very day on which he and his retinue took possession, the buried iris-roots sent up their first green rapier point of chal- lenge to the sun. Overhead, ancient cherry-trees were out to welcome his coming. They sent down a benedic- tion of rosy petals impartially alike upon the new master, and upon the familiar flagstones of the walk. The hillocks at the farther side of the pond, banked high with fantastic stones, were dotted thickly with dwarfed maple-trees that were pruned into round shapes of cloud, or into pointed tongues of flame. They were now in the first wonder of crimson foliage. Later they would pass slowly into green, only to burn again, through golden autumn days, with an intenser fire. Across one end of the pond a bamboo trellis stretched far, leading thick ropes of wistaria vines already tufted with silvery-green leaves, and touched with the hazy amethyst of buds. The busy and important days went by. Mrs. Mori, a timid, deprecating woman of much better birth than her husband, but terribly afraid of him, gained new White Iris 153 SUURE approval from her lord by her excellent management. In truth her one thought was her tall boy, Hiro, now soon to return. His home-coming was the next occurrence. This, too, eventuated just as it should. Everything was in readiness, the day proved fair, and Hiro arrived, glowing with health and excitement, bringing prizes and special commendation with him. He was received in state, in the large corner guest-room where the broken-hearted Goji had so often brooded alone. A fringe of respectful, wondering servants sat listening against the walls. This, after all, was the center of J. Mori's pride, of his hope, and of a future race—this tall, graceful boy who was, happily, so much more like his mother's family than his father. About four in the afternoon an important business summons drew the master from the house. As he went, the servants following in a train to bow a ceremonious sa yonara from the door-step, Mrs. Mori sent a glance toward her boy, and made a slight outward gesture. He responded with a nod and a smile. Before the jinrikisha wheels had ceased to fret the pebbles of the entrance court, the two were out under the blue sky together. Already the sun was close to the great cone of Fujiyama, on the western rim of the world. Shadows lay blue and thin upon the pear-shaped lakelet as they stood beside its brim. A little, humped, stone bridge spanning it at its narrowest point and reflected in the water without blemish, made to the eye a great, continuous, granite “O.” All about the pond grew a thicket of iris swords, with buds gleaming white among the stems. “Yes," answered the mother to a question, “these are the augustly famous ayamè of the Goji clan. It is said that they will flourish only in this place.” Hiro looked thoughtfully around the pond. “My schoolmate, the young Marquis Hachida, who is a relative of the family, says they will grow nowhere unless tended by one of the Goji blood.” “Yet you see for yourself how they are growing. The buds are as flakes of snow for thickness.” “The buds are not opened yet,” said Hiro. "I know your thought; but your august father desires them to open and so they will open," said the mother, with a queer little laugh. “What he wishes, comes to be. And did you know, he is to give a great festival of flowers within the next two weeks, in your honor and in honor of the iris blossoms. You are to compose the invitations in poetry!” “Ara !” cried the young man in consternation. “My father commanded me to study practical things—now he wishes me to be a poet!” “And you will write as he wishes,” stated the mother with conviction. The two moved slowly along the bank toward the southern extremity of the pond, where, like the stem to a pear, a tiny drainage ditch carried off the excess of water. The garden here ended abruptly in a thick hedge of growing bamboo, bound with long, horizontal strips of the same wood. In the silence they could hear the feeble trickle of water among the hedge roots. “Does it empty directly into the street, or pass through another garden?” asked Hiro. "I do not know. Being contented with what is here, I have never thought of looking beyond the hedge." “That is the chief use of hedges, the looking through, for those bold enough to dare it,” laughed the boy in a masterful way that reminded her, for the first time, of his father. Already he was plunging ruthlessly through iris stalks, and with strong hands he now parted the bamboo stems. The mother watched him eagerly. His back was turned, and he stood so long, with down-bent head, that she called out to him. He showed . 154 Everybody's Magazine 10 Poud. dazed eyes an instant, and resumed his atti- a few inches higher, so that all plants now tude. A little frightened, she called again, stood knee-deep in liquid light. and, gaining no response, hurried to his side. J. Mori had thrown around his bulky form Suddenly he allowed the hedge to close, and, one of those thin summer robes called yu- crimson of face, turned back into the garden. kata. He parted his shoji stealthily, wishing The mother had caught one glimpse of a to enjoy, alone, this initial triumph. The young girl on a tiny veranda, and, for some morning air struck chill against his throat reason, shared her son's embarrassment. so that with one hand he gathered the folds Not until they reached the humped stone of the robe closer, while with the other he bridge did either speak, and then the mother lifted his skirts high from the early dews. As said, as if to herself: “They must be people he emerged, a huge, blowsy red sun was just of very great nobility, recently impoverished.” clearing the maple hill. This Lord of a New After another long interval she continued: Day J. Mori saluted affably, as equal to “I wonder who they can be. I have never equal. . . . For a moment his eye regarded seen such beauty!” Still Hiro San said noth- approvingly the rosy light among the maple- ing, but his companion, venturing a look into trees where thin, spreading cobwebs twinkled the irradiated face, knew that he would write with gems. With a deepening smile his full his father's poetical invitations. gaze lowered and began to sweep the edges Next day Mrs. Mori questioned one serv- of the pond. ant, then another, concerning the occupants The smile vanished. He dropped his hand of the little cottage under the north bank. from his throat, and gave an incredulous Apparently no one had heard of such a place. start, straining his vision through the shim- Even after giving orders that they should in- mering morning mist. In all the ring of quire, Mrs. Mori learned only the bare facts green leaves not a white iris banner waved. that two women lived there in poverty with Hurrying nearer, he took a seat on one of the a single servant, and that they were, unfortu round stones at the edge of the pond. All nately, social outcasts of a sort that permitted about him was lush, vigorous foliage, with no familiarity from members of the Mori fluffy buds that should be now expanding, family. but were not. Impatiently he broke one, Preparations for the great Ayamè-Viewing- tearing at the tissue and the strips of gold. Party now claimed the interest and the ener- He spread out an unwilling petal on his palm. gies of the establishment. Hiro's verses of Nothing was wrong with the formation of the invitation, each different from all others, yet flower; why, then, in the name of Em-ma, each with some delicate allusion to the flower Lord of hell, did the thing refuse to open! involved, surprised even the writer with their With an angry exclamation he tore a plant beauty. The youth now spent much of his from the soil. It came up with a shiver and time at the far end of the garden; and was a little sob. The knotted rhizome had seldom without his lacquered writing-box, snapped, showing a yellow scar. He slit the containing strips of stiff paper for the proper stem, full length. No blight or insect ap- making of verse, pliant pen-brushes, and a peared in the clean, juicy cells. Why, then, cake of hard ink easily prepared by rubbing should the flowers shrink and cringe, as if with a few drops of lake not daring to display their water on a flat stone. beauty? Before sunrise of the im- For once in his life the portant day, Mr. J. Mori successful man was baffled. arose in the dawn to super- Even anger was denied him, intend personally the proper for there was no human vic- unfolding of his iris-flowers. tim on whom it could fall. Of course they would open. If he destroyed the flowers Had not this special day it was his own loss. And been set aside for them? yet the anger was mount- And, besides, had not the ing! He struck his knee, most famous gardeners of gave a low, fierce cry, and Tokio assured him that would have risen but that they would open? To make the sound of wooden clogs it all the more certain, on gravel told of an ap- they had brimmed the pond proaching presence. It was White Iris 155 Hiro, his young and tying his obi face bright with as he came. the new day. Mori “Uno," said his would not meet his master in his most eyes, and the boy, arrogant and gazing with in- domineering tone, terest on the phe- “go at once to the nomenon before Widow Goji and him, remarked in- her daughter in nocently, “They that hovel under will not open!" the north bank. “No, they will Accuse them of not. May the in- poisoning the sect gaki feed on water of my pond them in hell!” so that my flowers “I had been told will not open." that they would Uno gasped, and not bloom except for a moment was for one of the Goji silent. race. It seems to The eyes of Hiro be true," said Hiro. and his mother “Medieval stuff met for a flashing and superstition!” instant, and fell roared the other, apart. “The Wid- glad of this oppor- ow Goji and her tunity for vehe- AYAMÈ. daughter - the mence. “Is that hovel under the what they teach you at college in return for north bank.” Everything was clear to them. the money I give? Old women's chatter, Mori, intent on his one grievance, noticed servants' gossip! This is the age of enlighten- nothing. ment, not of witchcraft! Yet, what explana- “I am to accuse those ladies of—water tion can there be? The buds were perfect at poisoning. Why, sir—" stuttered the embar- the twilight hour of yesterday. Witchcraft, rassed Uno. black magic_” His anger went as sud- “Yes,” bellowed his master. “Do as I denly as it had come. He huddled himself say. It is surely through them that the together on the round stone, muttering, star- flowers will not open." ing now with a new, almost fearful wonder “But, sir—" began the advocate again. at the multitude of helpless buds. “If you can't, I can!” roared Mori, and “Father!” cried the boy, “why do you began pitching about the walk. “What! look so strange? I spoke merely in thought- Am I to lose face before the entire commu- less jest." nity? Half Tokio is to be here to-day, I say. "No," said Mori in his thick, dull voice. The flowers shall open! - " “You may have found the truth. It is black "Father," said Hiro's quiet voice, “I will magic, or water poisoning, a vengeance from accompany Mr. Uno, and see what can be those haughty beggars under the north bank; done.” but I'll show them; I'll show them. We'll J. Mori hesitated; his bloodshot eyes wa- call it water poisoning!” Springing to his. vered upon the face of his son, his only son. feet he almost ran in the direction of his house, The pauper, Ayamè, was fair. crying, “Uno, Uno!” as he went. Uno actually gasped with eager commen- Hiro, believing his father to be mad, fol- dation. “Ah! If the young master will ac- lowed closely. company me, giving me the sanction of his Mrs. Mori's frightened face showed at a illustrious presence- " parting of the shoji. “What has gone wrong, “Go, then,” said Mori to his son. "First master?" threaten, then bribe. They are beggars; per- “Rout Uno for me. I don't pay him to haps they have not even food. It is not yet sleep like a sot all day.” too late to have the flowers open, and they Uno appeared, exuding rills of apology, must-I say—they shall unfold, each one of 156 Everybody's Magazine them. Half Tokio is to come—” Mutter- turn bearing a tray with tea service, and fresh ing curses, the angry man strode into the tea, and a few cheap cakes. “My mistress, house, into the wide guest-chamber, and the Lady Goji, will receive you instantly," slammed the shoji behind him with a force she murmured, and withdrew. that made the very gargoyles of the roof-ends The tiny space about them was immacu- shiver. late. The matting, if not new, had been The two young men went out in silence, scrubbed and sunned until it was pale-green side by side, from under the portals of the satin. New paper was spread on all the big, red gate, turning at a sharp angle to the shoji. In the pygmy tokonoma or recess, in- left, and proceeding along the tiled and plas- dispensable to the guest-room of any home, tered wall that bounded the front of the however poor, hung a scroll on which was estate. Not until they had turned again, written, in beautiful calligraphy, a Chinese also to the left, and had entered a narrow classic poem. Under this, in a vase of plain street enclosed in hedges, did Hiro speak. ware, beautiful in shape, stood a cluster of “How is it that these ladies, having re- newly gathered iris flowers. cently sold a splendid home, should be in “The Goji iris,” said Uno's low voice with possible need of-food?” The thought hurt a sneer. “And it was set down in strictest him like a brier. terms, and sworn to, that no bulb, slip, root, “Your Excellency, my dear young master, or seed of them should be taken from the you could not understand— " besso." “How do you know what I can understand “If so, that word has been kept. There and what not?” interrupted Hiro with a look will be found other explanation—" Hiro was that frightened the sycophant. beginning angrily, when a shadow across the “There were mortgages, preliminaries—er, threshold announced the Lady Goji. what our foreign friends would call the red Both men bowed very low. Before seating tape ” herself, the lady, fixing her eyes on Hiro's pros- “But common decency, after the death of trate form, said slowly: “Young sir, your Lord Goji, would demand an instant payment words are true. There is another explana- in cash. Why, my friend, young Marquis Hachida has been searching everywhere for his kins- women. I wrote my father of it and you an- swered, saying that they had taken the money and gone to some distant province. Has tion. As for you, Mr. S. Uno!” she con- there been no payment of cash at all?” tinued, with a change of voice and pose, “it is “I believe not. You see, young sir, the your right to know. We did agree, indeed, preliminaries—Ah, here is the gate!” Uno under the hard terms of your master's sale, wiped the drops of perspiration from his to take no plant or root of this, our own clan brow, thanking the fates that this cross- flower. That was our promise, and it has questioning must cease. been kept; but look ” Here, with a dra- “This the gate of the Goji's widow!” matic gesture she pulled to one side the pa- thought Hiro, burning with shame and in- per shoji that had shut them from the gar- dignation as he viewed the single panel of den. “The flowers, more true than human rotting and worm-eaten wood. A garden friends, have followed us!” She pointed, coolie in the employ of his father would and then letting her hand fall heavily, stood, scarcely have been allowed to live in such a with uplifted chin and quivering lids, re- spot. garding the wonder of her guests. Uno knocked briskly, supplementing the Where the drainage from the great pond summons by the usual call, “O Tanomi Mosh- had formerly seeped and trickled through imasho!” bamboo roots embedded in gray mud, shely- Old Su San opened, and, although much ing stones were now set, and tufts of fern, surprised by the coming of visitors so early and beautiful wild grasses, making a harmony in the day, led them at once to the tiny re- of filmy green, with the glint of slow water ception-room. She disappeared, only to re- through cool stems. The overflow, carried White Iris 157 off by underground bamboo tubes, left dry so, his hostess had called aloud, “Ayamè! and clean the small flat garden space, and come to me!” this was covered by a flooring of white peb- A young girl entered the room. It was as bles gathered by night from the river bed if one of the flowers had taken human shape. beyond. But the chief wonder and beauty Her eyes met the look of Hiro, and she of the space centered in a blossoming cluster flushed, drooping her face. of white iris, springing outward from an al- “Gather the iris-flowers, child, and present most perpendicular bank. Like a little band them to our guests." of cirrus clouds they rose, the three central “O mother, the flowers? Our only flow- petals of each flower curved into a diapha- ers. Shall I gather all?” nous balloon–a tissue bubble blown full of “All!” repeated the other almost fiercely. phosphorescent moonlight. The three lower “Each blossom, each bud; and if it were pos- petals curved outward and then down. These sible, each green leaf. Burrow the roots of them from out the dark bank where they creep, and these thoughts of bitterness from out my heart. Alas, gentlemen, I forget myself. I am quite an old woman, as you . see. Permit me to retire.” She swept past them and would have vanished, but that Hiro, literally throwing himself at her feet, de- tained her with the passion of his pleading. “Madam, listen. It is but right that you should listen, for a moment, to what I have to say. I am the son of J. Mori, and as such I owe him duty. But the name he gives me must be clean. Madam, oh, believe that I did not know you were here. Each hour, each moment that you and your daughter have spent in such a place is a degradation to the son of J. Mori. This very day the great wrong done you shall be righted. Your kinsman, the young Marquis Hachida, is my friend. He has been seeking you. I wrote to my father asking where the ladies of the Goji house had gone, and received an an- swer from this rascal, saying you were in retirement in a distant province.” “You—you are kind,” said the lady slowly. "THE FLOWERS, MORE TRUE THAN HUMAN FRIENDS, “And are you indeed J. Mori's son?” He felt the implied sting, and flushed under it; were tipped and veined with a pale-green but his eyes met hers squarely. ichor, and along the center of each petal was “Each name and family, however great, a luminous yellow mark, like the stroke of a had some time a beginning." finger first dipped into the bowl of the sun. “True,” she said, with her rare, beautiful Uno found voice. “They are beyond all smile. “And I like you the better for the saying of their beauty, but-but-my noble saying." patron's buds will not open-no, not a single Ayamè had gone from the room and now one!” reentered at a mournful pace, bearing the The Lady Goji seemed not to hear. flower-shears and a flat wicker basket. Hiro “Since you gentlemen have now beheld started and caught his lip between his teeth; unmistakably how they are growing, I shall then again he boldly met the Lady Goji's summon my daughter to gather them, that eyes. “I cannot take the iris-flowers. Will you they may be sent as a fête gift to our neighbor, humiliate me by having the Lady Ayamè Mr. J. Mori.” ruthlessly destroy their beauty?” Hiro winced at the scorn of her voice. He The two gazed silently each into the eyes himself was pale, and had begun to tremble. of the other. It was a battle of old and new; He strove to speak; but before he could do a conflict between patrician and plebeian HAVE FOLLOWED US." 158 Everybody's Magazine claims. Uno, still seated, stared up, breath- less. Even to his emmet-like intelligence this soundless struggle above him had a mean- ing. And Ayamè, too, gazed, gazed with all her untutored, childish heart at the face she had seen so often smiling down upon her from a parting of the bamboo hedge. At first she had resented the intrusion, but soon had be- gun to watch for it. Her infrequent, fleeting, upraised look had often seemed to say: "I have no weapons against your boldness. I wish you would go away so that etiquette and conscience would cease to trouble me; but, oh, it is good to see another face that is young, that is not already stamped with suffering!” Suddenly the lady's dark eyes turned upon her daughter. Again she looked at Hiro. There had been no time for concealment. Both souls lay bare before her. Shame, sweetness, prejudice, the phantom barriers of caste, the stirrings of emotions far below, “Never mind what you told my noble father. Fall back a few paces. I want to forget you till we reach the house!” Uno fell back; and Hiro, forgetting him instantly, paced once more the bridge of heaven. “How beautiful she is! How more than beautiful when one is near her," he mused. “The mother, too, is fair and of noble judgment. She would not hold back her daughter from happiness solely because of lack of noble birth. Japan is topsy-turvy in the matter of nobility and titles. Young Marquis Hachida is my friend. I can con- tinue visiting his home. Ara! Perhaps next year the iris-buds by the garden pond will open!”. Whether through overbrimming of th or whether, indeed, as old Su was afterward fond of telling, the indignant family spirit of the Goji clan, not yet weaned from its an- cient haunts, had warned the flowers, it is certain that not one single bud opened for far deeper than, all social reservations, trem- bled together in that moment. To steady herself the Lady Goji leaned forward and caught Ayamè's arm. “She need not pluck the flowers," came the strained whisper. “And now good-by!” J. Mori's fête. The guests came in numbers, partaking of the costly foreign food and champagne, but every curious or amused glance of the eye toward his pond shot through J. Mori like an arrow tipped with acid. With a grinning, greenish mask of a face fastened over his furious disap- pointment, J. Mori moved among his noble friends, received their congratulations on the acquisition of so beautiful a home, and, as his one compensation, presented to them his son and heir, the tall youth, Hiro. Hiro's pleasant smile was painted on no mask. Modest, tactful, self-assured, he returned the greetings, winning for himself commendation everywhere, and friendship in more than one important quarter. Young Marquis Hachida kept close to him. Hiro could well afford to smile, for all the day his heart was singing, “I think the blossoms will open wide next year!' Outside in the narrow street once more, Hiro seemed walking on the bridge of heaven. When Uno's voice tugged at his senses he felt as one who touches a leper- beggar on a bridge. “We did not even make the accusation we were commanded by your father.” “Leave that to me!” cried Hiro. “And, you cringing dog,” he added, "if you wish any tolerance from me at all, use your mean wits to cancel this wrong you have helped to make." "I will, young sir. I have always told your noble father O ISRAL LOSKUW The Sunken Admiral By HERMAN SCHEFFAUER Author of "Of Both Worlds," etc. Illustrations by Denman Fink OSTELLO? Costello?” both. Costello was a small man; his hair was “Aye, Costello," said white and long, his eyes were black and bright; the old man, the Barber they were like the eyes of a young man. But of Tobermory. his face was aged, true, full of wry wrinkles, his “But that is an Irish step was slow, his back a little bent; he carried and not a Scotch name." seventy-two years upon it. His voice was “Aye, Irish I am,” re- strained, its volume spent and broken, and his plied the barber, “but the hand trembled so that the covert blood came name is not Irish. It has when he shaved me. For full fifty-two years been trimmed Irish, aye, had he been barber in Tobermory. Tober- but it is Spanish of old. mory was the name given to threescore flint By my forefathers I am houses in angular disarray perched in a Spanish-a Castillo.” hollow of the stony cove that fronted the “Costello? Castillo?” I entrance to the Sound of Mull. There was a echoed; “how comes it a weary rain without and a storm that troubled Spanish name is now an the sea. The roads were forlorn with mud, Irish one?” and so my onward quest in search of sketches Thus I began speech suffered interruption in Tobermory here. with old Costello, the village From the next room, low-ceiled and dark, barber in obscure Tober- came spicy smells of cookery. The barber's mory on the Isle of Mull off the west coast of wife, a dame becapped and stout, of some Scotland. Barber and village were ancient sixty-eight years, was there preparing supper. 159 160 Everybody's Magazine In an angle of wall and ceiling hung an osier valiant dead embalmed in history. Not cage in which a lively starling hopped to and rendered Irish by birth nor made Scotch by fro. Now and again the bird cried with a environment, Costello or Castillo stood there, wild crescendo on the second line that ended Spaniard of Spain as though he had emerged almost in a shriek and subsided suddenly in from some canvas by Velasquez or Murillo. the third: The genius of the man as it suddenly shone Into the sea, out of the sea, forth was all Iberian, and Hibernian not at all. All that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, A haunting like the obsession of the ancient Comes back to me. mariner was upon him. An impulse from within bade the tale be told, the message “The goodwife is Scotch,” said Costello, be delivered. So, phrase by phrase, the old “from Tobermory here. I married her when descendant of the Armada's men heaped con- I was twenty-six. I came hither when I was fidence upon me. I had earned it by my but a score years old, a green lad.” interest in him and by my rapid pencil sketch “But how came it that Castillo, Spanish, of his picturesque head as he stood and shaved became Costello, Irish?” I asked, my mind the villagers. The last yokel, trimmed and busy with that mystery. tonsured, was gone. Still the storm held wild The barber was a man well read. Some and grim. So, as he bade me, I resolved to rows of books lined a corner of his shop and stay the night with the barber of Tobermory. the books were of great and good names. His When the sound, delicious supper was done, speech, though partly burr and partly brogue, we three såt about the snapping fire whose was in fair and seemly English with a trace of light overwhelmed that of the brass hanging- the olden forms. lamp. The starling muttered drowsily in its “In your far land of America you have cage. often heard of Armada the Invincible?” “The great ship of an admiral, the almi- “Yes, “the winds blew out of Heaven and ranta San Martin, was storm-driven out of the it was scattered!'”. wreck of the fleet. She came flying north, “The winds scattered it and Drake and blown blindly about the Irish Sea. She was Howard shattered it. The English are fond a mighty galleon, built high, a great sea-castle to say it was by Heaven's right arm. Some with upper works musket-proof, and she had of the ships sank, some burned, some went been baptized by the archbishop of Cordova. broken on the Flemish coast, some were She struck and went down, went down at To- driven on the shore rocks of Ireland and Scot- bermory not a mile and a half from here. Some land. Of a hundred and thirty vessels, but of her sister ships went to pieces along the fifty-three, galleons and galleasses, crept back north Irish coast. But the almiranta San to Spain and to Philip, all heart-broken. Martin was the biggest of them all. She flew From the ships of battle stranded in Ire- the flag of Diego Florez, one of Sidonia's land many sailors were saved. Some were admirals. She was the treasure-ship of the slaughtered by the ferocious peasants; some fleet. Her hold was fast with ingots and escaped, remained in the land, and married doubloons and ducats of Spain. And she it peasant women. Many called themselves was that went down at Tobermory in the Castillo as coming from Castile. From night. No one knew it; only three men Castillo came Costello and there are many escaped and one of them came to Ireland to Costellos now. So were my forefathers Cas- find his mates, those saved from the broken tillos and so am I a Costello." ships. Of these one was my ancestor. So Truly this was all simple, yet strange and the secret of the lost admiral has rested with wonderful. The voice of the past fell from us for more than three hundred years. But the old man's lips. The eyes in the wrinkled - none of my people ever left Ireland. I was face shone brilliantly with something that was first to leave and came swift to Tobermory magical, eyes like the night that had gazed when I was young. I came to find the wreck from under freebooter's brows centuries ago. of the almiranta in the shallows off Tober- A bardic and prophetic strain lay in the voice mory—and perhaps the treasure—mine and of the hoary-headed barber; he seemed a link my people's—in the belly of the ship. Gold between two peoples and two epochs far never rots, Spanish oak never rots-and the asunder. He was like a high priest grown almiranta was built of the stoutest. My old in the strict service of Time, an oracle search was secret, for were it known the vocal before the altar of great deeds and the treasure was found, then the crown would The Sunken Admiral claim it as trore of the king, even from the sea." Into the sea, out of the sea, All that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, Comes back to me, screamed the starling, suddenly alert. "Yon bird always cries when he hears speech end with the word sea,'” said Costello. “So, day by day, year by year, mile by mile, as the tides were low, I plumbed the shoals and shallows along the coast. Every foot I fathomed, I studied the course of the currents, I scanned the bottoms with a water-telescope. So for twenty-five years I worked and found came upon the scabbards of swords, barrel. harquebuses and copper nails in their rets I bought of these —see, here they are." The canister was incrusted with a thick coat of verdigris; the cipher of the Spanish king stood embossed upon it. The scabbards and harquebus-barrels were bars of solid rust with here and there a glint of bright metal. The nails were misshapen, writhen, and greeil, I seemed to touch the hands that had touched them once. "All this," said the barber, “came from the almiranta, but where was she?" "A wrecking company with divers and dredgers might have found her,” I suggested, Derink01 "SO THE SECRET OF TIL LOST ADMIRAL HAS RESTED WITH I'S FOR MORE THAN THREE 'XDRED YLARS." no sign of ship. Money and hope were quite gone. Then at last-you see many things were cast up on the shore. One day a light- house man found a copper canister with the cipher of Philip, then some of the fishermen “Aye, and gained all the gold and the glory, too-after sharing with the crown. Nay, if the Costellos could not find and keep the treasure, then should it stay in the cea and the sea should keep it till doomsday.” 162 Everybody's Magazine The wind clamored about the house and sea-treasure of the flagship San Martin of the charged the casements, and the rain beat in Invincible Armada, was silent then. The sea muffled volleys against the panes bright with made answer for him. Its hoarse, thunder- the hearth-light. Dully out of the distance ous trumpets sounding in the rock-caves came a rumbling, a hollow and intermittent along Tobermory's shores proclaimed its reverberation. watch and dominion over the ship in its "Hearken the sea,” said Costello, his white depths and the gold in the ship. No more hair ruddy and his young eyes sparkling in the the old Costello spoke that night of ship or fire-shine. treasure. His confidence in me went so far, Instantly the wakeful bird began, as if but seemed to go no farther. He longed to bewitched: hear of America. Into the sea, out of the sea, “Aye,” said he, “in that land they say gold All that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, is almost found in the streets, and the hills Comes back to me. and fields are full of it. But here there is none of it-only the sea has it-only the sea." “Those are the waves of the Sound. They Once again the bird repeated its eter- are beating upon the shore and eating it away. nal rhyme, but thickly and mechanically as They are eating away the land here and piling though in sleep. Then the goodwife with her it up there. It takes and gives-does the lace cap and head of silver read from a pon- water. It will give us back the gold of our derous Bible. Her quavering, monotonous people, the gold that was theirs. The big voice was uplifted in the ancient room, and admiral is still there and holds her treasure the cry of the sea was like a far-off echo to that in her hulk and the deeps will give it up." voice. The sonorous Scripture phrases added Impressively spoke the barber of Tober solemnity to the hour. Then gravely we said mory; the voice of all his swarthy ancestors good night and the Barber of Tobermory led rang in his own. The starling stirred in its me to the tiny bedchamber wherein I was to cage, fretful because of the unusual sound of sleep. evening talk and the noisy tempest. Again In the bright and sunny morning the gray- the present parted like the halved curtain of a head was full of sprightliness like the chatter- theatre and the past broke brilliantly on the ing starling itself. imagination. Visions came crowding up the “Oh, a fair day,” he said, "and the sea is years: the storm-harried magnificent ships, glad of it and I'm glad of the sea.” the proud enormous sea-castles with pen The bird pealed forth with an early vigor: nants and glorious oriflammes and emblazoned sails going down in despair on unknown Into the sea, out of the sea, All that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, coasts, bearing with them in their descent the Comes back to me. hope, the glory, and the wealth of imperious Castile. A faith and hope indestructible and Very fatherly in manner the old man grew. enduring as the warm, yellow gold and the He seemed to overflow with an irrepressible salt sea lay in the words of Costello, Barber desire to communicate something to me. I of Tobermory and heir of the admiral. knew it fretted him from within and called for “On the east coast of England," he re- utterance. He looked out toward the sea sumed, “so I have read, the German Ocean where it shone like silver mail between the is biting away miles of land. At Lereness, houses, and many times he glanced at the two miles from the shore, all crumbling down, clock. At length when the few morning far out in the tide you can see a rock and on customers had gone he said: that rock a post, a hitching-post that once “Come. Ere ever you go, I'll show you a stood before an inn. They are building wonderful thing the most wonderful thing granite bulwarks along the shores, but the you ever saw. Soon you'll be off to the waves grow never weary and men do. In States. I pledge you to secrecy--give me some places the sea tears down land, in some your hand upon it. No man knows, nobody it builds up land from the bottom. Ever here saving the goodwife and me.” in Tobermory with its swirling tides it tears Costello took up a long conical trumpet- down and it builds up." shaped thing of black tin and clapped a frieze “But the almiranta," I said, “and the tam-o’-shanter upon his snow-white poll. treasure—what of them?" Down the crooked village street to the tiny Costello, Barber of Tobermory, heir to the pier where the fishermen tied their craft, Denmalerie “SOME OF THE FISHERMEN CAME UPON THE SCABBARDS OF SWORDS IN THEIR NETS." where the lazy seas lapped against granite “Yon falls more of Scotland into the sea," centuries old, green as jade in its coats of sea- said Costello; “day by day the sea is eating moss and crimpled weed, we went side by away the land. Lookee! the face of the cliff is side. Costello slipped into a slight boat and a new one-new since last week when I saw took up the oars. Of these I relieved him it. The storm of yesternight tore down tons since I was the younger. of it. Four ells shorter than a month ago is Strongly I pulled and we ran over the un- that bluff now. But it is a good work. What broken sea that heaved with its low sluggish old Britain loses I gain. Here the sea is swells. The sun smote the waves with un- tearing it down and yonder it is piling it up. usual power. Was this the same sea that That is where we are going.” had played so mighty and solemn an organ He pointed toward two black bull-headed threnody upon the stops and vents of the rocks that thrust their blunt domes above the shore-caves the night before? Then it was a sinuous sea not far offshore. He steered the black sullen monster wrestling with gigantic boat directly between the two stone caps that winds amidst the bellowing thunder and the rose for thirty feet above the water. Together flare of heavenly swords; this morning it was we threw out a heavy block of granite which, a wanton, luxurious creature outstretched to fastened to a rope, served for an anchor. the amorous rapture of the sun. The sea- “The sun is right, the sun is just right,” gulls swung and shot about us, the wind was said the old man mysteriously, upturning his but a breath. A mile we rowed and came to a wrinkled face and sloe-black eyes to the day- great curve in the bluff of the coast. One of star. the horns of the cove was of a slaty rock Now he grasped the tin water-telescope, and mixture of shale and the undulating plunged it into the sea, and bent over the swells licked up against its base. As we rocking bow. The young eyes in the old face rowed by, not a dozen feet away, a rust- were actively alive. I sat in a fisher's dory ling mass of disintegrating earth and peb- off the Scottish coast with a freebooter of old bles fell from its crest and splashed into Spain. the sea, dashing us with spray and rocking “What do you see?” was my query after a the boat. long wait. 163 164 Everybody's Magazine The white-haired man was silent. His little galleries that run around her stern, deck eyes remained fast to the double eyepiece of on deck. Do you see the big bronze lantern the water-telescope. A violent curiosity con- where the thick kelp hangs heavy down, and sumed me. For many minutes he was silent; the cannon with black heads stuck forth from then he raised his face illumined with a the bows? Iron cannon are they for fighting strange rapture in the sparkling eyes. ahead. Now turn the tube to the right. Look “You shall see—the sun will be in perfect how her broadside leans upward, slanting on position in a few minutes." her beams. See you the big ports, big as a I seized the water-telescope with eager house's windows, and the muzzles of cannon straining hands and bent above the glistening —some score and a half out of forty, the rest swells. The sun beat warm upon my back. sunk in the sand or her hold? Forty guns on The green blur of the sun-shot waters the larboard and forty on the starboard and mounted quivering to my eyes. The glazed ten on deck and stern-ninety guns the almi- depths palpitated with the restless uncertain ranta bore. Those long green things you mark light and I saw naught clearly. But soon out streaming from the broken mast in the flow of the bright liquid haze emerged a shadowy are kelp and sea-tangle. I call them the thing, outstretched beneath the boat prone battle-flags of my almiranta, red and green, along the bottom of the sea that glimmered up yellow and purple, flapping in the thick of the with its yellow sands. How great, how small, tides. Ever, ever I think of the large San how deep, how shallow it was, what might Martin, golden galleon and mighty sea- be substance and what shadow, I could not fortress, going down, as I would have it, all say. Then, as my eyes were adjusted to the sails set, all flags flying, all guns flaming, with shifting medium and pierced the currents red battle-lanterns all litten, fighting to the crossing in the deeps, detail after shadowy last, fighting the English sea-hounds, fighting detail stood vaguely forth, shaded and re- the storm. Down in the dark storm-night lieved by the transmitted sunbeams. Un- she went with all her brave blest souls, all certain, nebulous, phantasmal like some those undaunted men of Spain, and only three mystic monster in a green fog or a sulphur- were left-only three! There they are all ous smoke the spectral bulk declared itself. lying now, down in the cold, Diego Florez and In my ears, close and clear, rang the voice all his men and officers, duke and marquess, of the aged Costello. The outer world van- admiral, sailor, and fighting man, all sons of ished and the present time; all senses fled sunny mother Spain, on the floor of these cold save sight and hearing. Scotch seas right under us, under those decks “Do you see her," spoke that voice out of you see, holding guard of the treasure." the grayest past, “do you see her, the great The wonder-wrought voice of the de- almiranta under us? Those flat yellow scendant of the Castillos ceased, while still spaces that look like shelves of the sea-bottom with aching eyes and bent back I lay across are her decks, loaded with drift-sand. Do the hot seats and sent my vision through the you see her three masts, broken off sharp and emerald sun-lighted deeps. short? One of them lies slant athwart her “Look close, look hard under the admiral's decks at an angle. Mark its fighting-top deck. Two openings there all broken out. leaning against the face of the rock. That Farther forward mark you a great hatch mass of weed is a tangle of cordage, all slimy where now and then the fish and crabs pass green it is. Mark you the steps that go to out. There the treasure lies. From the old the admiral's deck, all carven they and gilt. Castillos I have the tale and tally of all her When the sun is right-and it is right now, treasure. Ingots a-many-ingots of African you can see the gilt so well. Do you spy those gold and Peruvian silver, and pearls from the green things lying about the decks where the Antilles. Gems, too, she carried in oaken sand is low near the broken balustrade? chests bound with brass, and a store of the Brass cannon those, deck cannon of brass crown jewels. In specie there were thousands torn loose and rolling about her decks when and thousands, ducats and pistoles and Span- she went down. I have read the old Spanish ish double pistoles called doubloons. All chronicles and Calderon's account of the these lie there under the decks safe and armament, and I know! Do you see the high sound in the belly of the galleon, safe in her poop, fretted and decked like a booth at hull of black oak. Michaelmas fair-all colors and coats of “Now look quickly while I tell, for the arms? You can spy the windows and the sun is bringing the shadow of the rock. See Derman Fink - 07 OUT OF THE BRIGHT LIQUID HAZE EMERGED A SHADOWY THING PRONE ALONG THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA. 16: 166 Everybody's Magazine longer-it must not belonger, for it must come to me—for never a bairn have I. In seven years, some seven years more. I shall be but nine-and-seventy then, and I shall not leave the earth till my almiranta comes. Every day I come and gaze and every week I sound her with a plummet. When it storms I sit at home and say: Into the sea, out of the sea, All that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, Comes back to me. you how the almiranta lies between the two rocks like a wagon between two hayricks? Down she went and caught in the jaws of these rocks. And there she hung wedged tight. There I saw her first when by chance I came upon her seven-and-twenty years agone. Then she hung free and rested not on any sand-bank as now. Then her deck was sixteen fathoms down from the face of the bay. And now it is but six. By wash of the changing currents and the drift of the cliffs crumbling into the sea, the sand-bank piles higher year by year. Year by year the hulk of the almiranta San Martin, all water-logged, with her gold, her armature, and bony frames of men, is lifted higher and higher as the sand rises under her bulging hull by urge of the currents. So she keeps to her rising, hour by hour, day by day, year by year, up to the day and the sky and to me! So it is that I wait all patient for her coming. The sea took her and the sea gives her back. From the old hidalgos to me, a Castillo to take what is our own. For seven-and-twenty years since I first found her have I waited and watched. And seven years more will it be ere her decks take the air. She is safe here; no boats come hither now-only mine-mad Costello's who is fishing for a ship! Every year she rises more than the year before, but it will be at least seven years. Perhaps ten, but not Now the shadow comes." Slowly, as the beams of the sun were with- drawn, the magic spectacle revealed beneath the fathoms of water grew obscure. The shadow flung from one of the enormous tusks of stone erased the vision in the sea. The dull sand-burdened decks of the sunken galleon seemed slowly to fall back into the dusky profound and the dark floods em- braced the great black bulk until it was seen no more. The shape of a great fish passed over the wreck. Then I lifted my throbbing eyes from the water-tube and looked blinking upon the old man smiling at my side in the stark sunlight. The face and form were the face and form of the white-haired Costello, Barber of Tobermory, but the young eyes with their light from the past were the eyes of Castillo, fighter and freebooter of Hispania. A Llyric of the Llama By BURGES JOHNSON EWARPE BLATSOEK EHOLD how from her lair the youthful llama Llopes forth and llightly scans the llandscape o'er. With llusty heart she llooks upon llife's drama, Relying on her late-llearnt worldly llore. But llo! Some llad, armed with a yoke infama Soon llures her into llowly llabor's cause; Her wool is llopped to weave into pajama, And llanguidly she llearns her Gees and Haws. My children, heed this llesson from all llanguishing young Illamas, If you would lllive with Illatitude, avoid each llluring May; And do not lllightly Illleave, I beg, your Illlonesome, Illoving mammas, And Illiast of allll, don't spelllll your name in such a silllllly way. 167 NULU OVORO TALYAN CAL RYTM IN UN L ILUL LIC Wellen Relief-round in front of custom house, Naples. Attributed to Andrea del Toucherino. esa 30.after photo, Napoli. 1906. Some Americans Abroad By BOOTH TARKINGTON Author of “The Gentleman from Indiana," "Monsieur Beaucaire," "The Conquest of Canaan," etc. Illustrations by Lawrence Mazzanovich E stood on the pier in front of He was an elderly man in dusty black; his the custom-house at Naples, hat, overlarge, was of black felt; he wore a waiting for the Deutschland black "string" tie, half-curtained by a strag- to send her passengers gling gray beard, and his expression indicated ashore. She lay inside the that for an indefinite period—perhaps for distant breakwater, panting months—he had been without a hope of any and relaxed after her long kind. His melancholy eyes were bent upon once - a - winter scoot from the steamer and he spoke apparently to the America to the Mediterranean; her passen- air, not directly addressing anybody, but there gers, detained on board by the health of was no doubt that he had approached us be- ficers, crowding the landward rails like flies on cause we were so evidently Americans; there- a thin slice of cake. There was a long wait, fore it seemed incumbent on us to reply. but the February sky was clear, the air warm, “I think they're delayed because of some the sun jovial; Vesuvius smoked his friendly difficulty about giving them a clean bill of pipe overhead; Sorrento smiled across the health,” I said. way; Capri lay, a leviathan of carved ame- “Well, sir, you may be right," he sighed. thyst, on the horizon. That is to say, all “If it's so, you can bet that's the only bill round and about was the Bay of Naples, they'll have any trouble gittin'! Still, I wish where it is sweet to do nothing, and we on they'd hurry and let the pore things off.” the pier did our waiting unimpatiently. And “You have friends aboard?” yet there sounded at my elbow a note of sor “Oh, no. I always come down when a row and complaint: steamer lands. I don't have much else to do, “I suppose the Dagoes are keepin' them and I kind of like to see folks that are sort of pore Americans out there”-it was a voice of fresh from home and be'n in God's country weary querulousness—"to see if they've got within a week or so. And then, besides”- enough money left after their trip to make it his dull eyes showed a glimmer of something worth while to let 'em come ashore." not unlike vindictive anticipation—"some- 168 Some Americans Abroad 169 times a good many of 'em have be'n seasick all kinds of doin's and ceremonies in that ca- on the way over, and they look like it.” He thedral up-town a ways, yonder. I fergit how paused. A slight change came over his face, much the feller said they was goin' to spend and he added: “I always feel mighty sorry for on it; but She knows and She'll write it all out them!” fer Her literary club at home. I took Her up If I had known him better I might have there and left Her, before I come down here, hurled the lie in his face. Instead, however, this morning. She tried to keep me, but I I asked: broke out as soon as She wasn't lookin'. “You suffered, yourself, when you She'd landed me before, in a place called crossed?" Milan, where they was layin' away one of His gaze shifted slowly and piteously to these Dago generals, and once again in Rome meet mine. “Did I suffer?” he faltered. She got me—a child, that was. There's too “Did I sur—" The word choked him. much about all kinds of dead people in this “Young man," he went on, when he had re- country, especially old dead people that of gained his self-control, “I'm from central be'n dead ever sence Scripture times, or worse. Iowa; I've crossed the Mississippi River I don't see why they can't let 'em alone and plenty of times—on a railway bridge--and quit talkin' about 'em. And look at their pub- that's the nearest to bein' on the water I ever lic buildings; they don't take any pride in 'em come till She persuaded me to take this trip. as long as they're any livin' use in the world! Did I suffer? I wouldn't of stayed a week Soon as there's nothin' left but a few chunks, in the Old Country if it hadn't be'n fer that they try to drag you around to admire 'em! I'm only waitin' till my homesickness gits so 'No, ma'am,' I told Her, ‘no more funerals much worse than my fear of seasickness that I for me!' I don't say that this funeral ain't jest can't stand it! Then, I reckon there'll goin' to be an expensive one, but I druther go be another old fool go back to Iowa with down and see a ship-load of live folks from the sense enough never to leave it again!” United States!” “You don't like it over here?” The tender from the Deutschland had at “Like it?” Almost he laughed, albeit last been allowed to leave the steamer, and, from heart-bitterness. “We landed at a place crowded with passengers, it now sidled along called Bremen, 'way up yonder, and come the broad steps that lead up from the water, all the way down here, stoppin' off every lit and the voyagers began to spring ashore. The tle while, and the countries and towns gittin' voice of the friend we had come to meet called more heathenish and tumble-down and dirtier our names from the tender; we waved a greet- and smellin' worse every step of the way. And ing and turned to descend the steps. A hand nowhere a single thing I ever want to see on my shoulder detained me for a moment. again! We'd come to a town; I'd hire a hack “There!” said my melancholy acquaint- and ask the hotel people to tell the driver to ance, with a note of cheer in his voice, pointing take me around the residence section first to the bow of the boat. “Up there in front, and the business section afterward. Usually settin' on a trunk-see that pore, white-faced, they thought I was crazy, and sometimes, limp-like feller? He looks to me”-he dis- what with the lonesomeness and everybody tantly approached a chuckle—“like he's had hollerin' in all these languages, they come a pretty mean time of it on the way over. I near being right. O Lord, I want to git back feel mighty sorry fer him, but I can't say it to a country where I can read the signs!” don't pretty near serve him right. Wasn't “You mean the street-signs?” there enough sights in his own country fer him “Yes, sir! The signs over the stores; and to look at?" where an empty house has got jest a good, plain, old 'For Rent' on it and where they After dinner, that evening, we were going don't call a hotel office a ‘Bureau'! All that over the Iowan's complaint, repeating and don't bother Her the way it does me, but She dwelling upon it, so that we should not for- and I never did like things so much the same get it, when one said: way. She's puttin' in a great morning right “Wasn't he the typical American abroad now. You heard about that big Catholic though!” that's dead here lately?” But another disclaimed this. “No, he was “A little. He was a Monsignore " so far from being typical that you knew him at “Bishop, or something. She heard last once for a ‘character'. If he had been typi- night they was goin' to bury him to-day, with cal, you wouldn't have noticed him.” 170 Everybody's Magazine While that, of course, was true, our friend tence lacks construction because it is the of the morning was far from unique. He has writer's wish to present only the essentials of hundreds of fellow-sufferers every year upon what he is trying to report. the Continent; like him in their loneliness, Such people see not only too much but dazedness, and comprehensive protest, though too little in “the life over here,” which life few are so articulate, most of them bearing means to them a really interesting and thrill- their woe in silence, and only turning the eyes ing struggle for what they believe to be of a sick dog upon the women-folk who have "position” and “social recognition.” How- dragged them down to the sea in ships. ever, their “climbing" upward through the England is painful enough for them, but the Continental “foreign colonies” and out into Continent is a revelation of cruel and unusual native Continental society is more picturesque punishment. The Continent holds no charm than most climbing at home, because upon for them; they plaintively hate it, seeing the Continent it is more visible and conspicu- “nothing in it"; yet they form a pleasing con- ous. The rungs of the ladder are sharply de- trast to those Americans who see too much in fined. And, of course, a climbing American it. To the cursory eye the latter class appears finds his task much easier in a European to be increasing very rapidly; the class of the city than he would find it in his own home alienated, of those who say: "Shawly you town, since (so far as origin goes) all Ameri- never intend returning to the States to live! cans look alike to most of the worldly people It's all very well to run back for a few weeks of Europe and are “taken up” for what they now and then to see one's friends—but living are worth—and not seldom taken in for all there? Oh, quite impossible!” they are worth. Perhaps this seems exaggerated. Perhaps It may work little real harm that the it may be thought founded not on reality but climbers have taught most of the people upon a comic weekly. On the contrary, talk toward whom they climb to believe that all of the kind is exceedingly common in the Americans are snobs. But it is a fact un- “American colonies" on the Continent, and pleasant to contemplate. In some European SO WIG BIO 773MTV ORL CHAPNV LORENC 24 just 0O NA.COM. APOLI .06 the people who say such things are those who usually manage to mention, in the course of any conversation you may have with them, that “dear Countess Blank was saying” to them, “only yesterday," and also that "Lord Feathersonhaugh—" The foregoing sen- cities it is notorious that philanthropists of title have learned to count upon our snob- bishness to help them with their charities. Perhaps they believe anything is justified that is done for the poor. One day last winter, in one of the larger Italian cities, I had gone to 4 PROM A DESCRIPTION BY BI FLON BY BILL CLOU FLORENCE 06 see an American friend who was staying at my wife will be glad to take their notes and the most expensive hotel, and as we sat talk- cards home with her and casually show them ing in the lobby, a boy brought him a note, to her friends. Now, where did these peo- the envelope of which bore a crest. ple get the idea ? It must have been from “A messenger from the Marchesa B— the Americans that they've known. That's bring this for you, sir. The messenger wait the thing that outrages me! They've been answer.” taught !” “I don't know the Marchesa B- ," said To Rome, a few weeks later, came some my friend, opening the envelope, “but I know Americans presenting an electrifying con- what her note is. Yes, I thought so.” He trast to the “teachers” who enraged my handed the enclosure to me. The message friend. Buffalo Bill's “Wild West” rough- was in French, and to this effect: rode under the walls of the Eternal City, and toward the great scout's whooping arena we The Marchesa B has the pleasure of enclos- bent our steps. The dance was on when we ing eight tickets for the approaching Kermess, for the benefit of the Blank Society in the Blankese arrived, but we found an usher who was Gardens. The Marchesa B— has not had the shoving and haranguing a confused, seat- pleasure of meeting Monsieur A— but is assured seeking crowd of Italians, exhorting them in that his well-known benevolence will be attracted homelike Nebraskan words. His attitude by so worthy a charity. The tickets are twenty-five lire each. toward them was that of an irritated drover, but when he accepted the coupons for our box Mr. A- placed the tickets upon the boy's and looked our party over, he showed a cer- tray. “Return these to the messenger with tain relief in meeting fellow-countrymen my regrets,” he said, and then to me, “That whom he could admit-at least in Italy—to is perhaps the tenth time the thing has hap- terms of equality. pened in the last week or so. You see we “Everything's gone all to thunder to-day," have a large suite in the hotel and a big tour- he remarked crossly. “That there King and ing-car- and we are Americans. That's Queen's here.” (His manner of alluding enough for these people to hear—and so the to the royal personages suggested that he Marchesas and Principes begin sending in thought of them as cards in a deck.) “We their requests for contributions to their pet never got word they was comin' till half an charities. The point of it is that not one of hour before we opened; the boxes were all these requests has come from an untitled took and we've had one blank of a time person: you see they count on impressing us fixin' things up an' gittin' that King and with their nobility, count on our being silly Queen settled right. These coupons call for and cheap enough to subscribe to a charity, the next box beyond 'em, and the Dago not for its own sake, but on account of these ushers have gone and stuck some people in titles and names. I suppose they think, too, there, somebody that belongs to the King and that they give us our money's worth, and that Queen, I reckon, and— ” 171 KOK WATTEAY KO SI THIS PICTOORWUZ PAINTED BYMITCHELLANGLO GREATMARSTER OF THE R BLARBURZONACOLE HITIS DONEINOILVER TYFINE. al 080 LOUVRE PARIS TUESDAY, OCTOBER IT 1906. 230 PM WIATY FAIR BUT SLIGHTLY CLOUDY “Then we'll have to give up our box?” of his self-control: “YOL GIT 'EM OUT some one asked nervously. O' THERE!” “Naw! You got the tickets, ain't you? We interfered at this point and effected a You git it! Come on.” compromise by squeezing more chairs into He led the way across the enclosure, be- the box, to the pained surprise of our usher, stowing, as he passed before the royal box, a who, as he slouched away, manifested his brief glance of annoyance upon Victor Em- opinion of us as “easy.” “It seemed to take manuel II. We followed. me right back to the Courthouse Square," re- A lady and three gentlemen were seated in marked one of our party. “That boy was so the box numbered upon our coupons. They homelike, I can't believe I'm in Rome. It'sim- were smilingly interested in the performance possible! My willing soul has fitted back to of Irontail and his friends. “You git out o' a day, fifteen years ago, when one like him put there,” said our guide informally. “That me out of the grand stand at the trotting-races ain't your box.” at the Illinois State Fair, for having the wrong The four occupants, not having the faintest ticket. I went as quietly and quickly as I idea of what he was saying, paid no attention. could, but two thousand people were looking Thereupon he tapped one of the gentlemen at me before I got to the foot of the steps." brusquely upon the shoulder. “Git!” he re- After an hour or so, we heard the voice of peated with a bitter frown. “Git out o' here, our champion again. He was working all of you!” through the upper tiers of seats, about seventy The gentleman drew back, offended at feet from us, selling tickets for the concert the touch, indignant at the tone in which that was to follow. he was addressed, and otherwise entirely at “Here you are, good people!” he shouted. sea. “Ching-quanty chentessmy. Here's your There was an exclamation of horror from billetty per grandy conshirto after the show. an upper tier and one of the English-speaking Grandy conshirto! Ching-quanty chentess- Italian ushers came rushing down an aisle my per grandy conshirto! There you are, with a blanched face; he bent himself double old hyena-face! Dewy billetty. Ching- before the occupants of the box, uttering quanty chentessmy, ladies and gents, per stricken apologies in Italian, which were ab- grandy conshirto!” ruptly checked by our guide. His roving eye fell upon our upturned faces “Here! I ain't got no more time to waste. and he saw that we were watching him. These folks got coupons fer the whole box. “You hear me, boys!” he shouted to us with Tell them people to git out o' there an' tell a grin, perfect in its serenity. “You hear me 'em to hurry." and this Dago langwidges! Ain't I good ?” “Get them out?” repeated the Italian, im- measurably shocked. “Imposs-s-sible! You An aversion to the tourist is to be found, I do not understand! It is the Prince and suppose, everywhere in the world. No doubt Princess di " the feeling could be traced to the hatred for a Our guide cut him off “in no uncertain nouveau that animated the breast of some terms." He bent upon him a look of wither- primordial mud-turtle as he watched a mi- ing pity. “That cuts all the ice in Hudson's grating dragon-fly skimming superficially Bay, don't it?” he replied with venomous dis- down the creek and away. Thus, in water- tinctness, and then, exasperated to the extent ing-places, in summer resorts or winter re- 172 Some Americans Abroad 173 Bishop Potter was entirely correct in his es- timation of English sentiment toward us. At its average that sentiment seems to be one of more or less tolerant dislike, perhaps tinged with pained amusement. For one thing, the English do not understand the American's "offhand” ways, his ease of mind in regard to informal acquaintanceship, his lack of sus- picion. ... One day, not long ago, two American travelers were sitting in the buffet of an Italian hotel, when an Englishman came in, an Englishman not remarkably un- like the rare “Pawtucket" type. Some one had happened to introduce the two Ameri- cans to him the day before and they were anxious to see more of him; his voice alone was a treat. One of them said: “Lord H- , won't you join us? Won't you have tea at our table?" sorts, those who live in houses somewhat disdain those who are lodged in hotels, and those who are lodged in hotels despise the day. excursionists. And so it is with our country- men abroad: the permanent fixtures of a col- ony, following a seemingly universal law, show a certain consciousness of superiority (often expressed by graciousness) to those who take villas or apartments for the season; the latter exhibit the same feeling for the people who come to the hotels for a month or so; and here kindliness ends, for all unite to exe- crate the tourist. Exactly what a tourist is, one finds it difficult to ascertain; but it is widely assumed that he is a blot. In Eng- land he is sometimes called a “tripper." However, you will more often hear sensitive Americans and English alluding to him as a “Dreadful Pahson.” From many sources of information it is to be inferred that the shameful term “tourist” applies to: 1. Traveling Americans or Ger- mans. 2. Persons traveling in charge of a guide or a “lecturer.” 3. Persons carrying a Baedeker. 4. Persons who stay less than a week in any one place. 5. Persons interested in "sight- seeing” or the landscape. In a rough classification of de- grees of unpopularity, the German appears to lead; at least you hear more abuse of “Those Terrible Ger- mans” than of the travelers of other nationalities. It is difficult to de- termine the reason for this unless it is that our honest Teuton is sel- dom beautiful to alien eyes; and is apt to wear a costume unappre- ciated out of its own country; also, the hearty guttural sputterings of the good old German language are almost ludicrously painful to un- German ears, especially in Italy. However, if it were not for the American's anxiety to be rid of his money, I believe he might lead even the German in the race for unpopularity. But the German is thrifty; it takes some ingenuity, and more persist- ence, to overcharge or cheat him. Certainly the American traveler is not loved for himself alone. “Beneath I think they all really dislike us,” is a common enough phrase on the lips of thoughtful Americans, and I believe that most of these agree that se stutti MER OM W MC # TRE CLIE E NA TIBERIUS VSD 3 DEAR O. CAPRI I MO".06 The Englishman looked languidly upon him. “No, thank you," he sang quietly, and then, turning to the steward, “Tommy, are none of the usual gentlemen about this after- noon?”. . That was the result to have been expected, and the sequel was quite as inevitable in its way. The “usual gentlemen” (a cosmopol- itan group), coming in presently, elected to sit with the two Americans. Lord H- then calmly joined them. One of the Ameri- 17+ Everybody's Magazine cans was from the central West, and before Is it, possibly, because they fear their fellow- the afternoon was over Lord H— had ac- countrymen may do or say something absurd cepted his invitation to come to shoot over and thus discredit themselves? However that his big game preserves in the mountains of may be, it is, as the farm-hand said on the Ohio. The American told him that the paw- fifth of July, “a mighty pore feeling." paw shooting was particularly good. Alas for the tourist! He is unaware of his Tourists who do their touring in an auto- low estate; he knows nothing of the disdain in mobile escape opprobrium; they are not called which he is held by his fellow-countrymen of “tourists,” but “automobilists," or "motor- the colonies, for he is made welcome by every ists." (N. B. It is not absolutely necessary to one with whom he comes in contact-by inn- have an automobile for this; often the clothes keepers, guides, porters, waiters, cab-drivers, alone will suffice.) That is the only escape; shopkeepers, musicians, chambermaids, beg- and the sensitive definition of the tourist is not girs, stewards, and ticket-agents. Those limited to “Dreadful Pahson"; far from it: who regard him with disdain, keep him in for it is only in guide-books and railway ignorance of his shame by holding aloof from posters that he escapes the adjective damna- him, and so, having no consciousness of the tory. He is called “odious," "horrid,” “low," need of improving his condition, he carries (as etc. In this connection, one of the strangest a rule, though I do not forget my friend of things in the world is the inflection with which the Naples pier) a merry and interested face some of our countrymen speak the word over Europe, and the air resounds pleasantly “American,” as if it meant something un- to the hearty voices and laughter of all his pleasant or grotesque; and those who so use kind. it are not always expatriates. They come by the many thousands; every Half a dozen Americans stand at one end year their numbers mightily increase; greater of an aisle of Notre Dame in Paris, another and greater grow the enormous ships, built half dozen at the other end. The two par- and launched, one directly after another; but ties exchange glances of hostility at first sight. they can hardly be built fast enough to carry Says a lady of the first half dozen: “The the multitudes that overspread England und place is spoiled. One can never come here France and Germany and Switzerland in the without finding a lot of Americans!" . spring and summer and early autumn. In Says a lady of the second half dozen, with winter all who have not gone home seem to be a shiver: “Let us go. Here come a lot of crowded into Italy, so that the country is Americans!” scarcely big enough to hold them. And more The Englishman, of course, feels that we coming every day by the Mediterranean route! spoil the great monuments with our intru- One afternoon last February a young mem- sions. His mental and emotional process ber burst into the lounging-room of the Cos- might be conceived as follows: “I wish to mopolis Club in Rome and called to a group look at the monument; I do not wish to look at of friends in a corner: you, whoever you are, and it is an added an- “Hi! You'd better come quick if you noyance that you are Americans.” But it is don't want to miss it!” astonishing to find that this seems to be ex- “What is it? What is the matter?". actly the feeling of hundreds of travelers and “I just saw two Italians in the Piazza di “colonists” who are themselves Americans. Spagna. If you don't hurry they'll be gone!” S OOS BACK TO PADUCAH The Mystery of Bird-Flight By HAROLD BOLCE Author of "The New Internationalism," ete. With photographs copyrighted by Doubleday, Page á Co., · and from the American Museum of Natural History. HE study of the flight of ger ships, so this early form of air-craft, deli- birds is of vast impor- cately framed, will probably be supplanted tance to civilization, for by sturdy carriers transporting cargoes of all it is leading to man's kinds across the sky. actual navigation of the Aerial piracy will then succeed smuggling. air. If aerial ships suc Navigation of the air will swing wide the ceed in sailing at will gate to the most alluring field ever invaded against the wind, that tri- by daring buccaneers. umph, which now seems possible, will revo- Imagine the immediate results: If a pirate lutionize the economic and political conditions craft can descend from the sky and turn loose of the world. a bandit crew to rob a bank or a railway Assuming that the present promises of train in America one day, and, scuttling aerial flight will be fulfilled, this is the prob- through the clouds, can reach safety in the able result: The pioneer craft of the sky now Balkans, the Carpathians, or in Darkest Africa commanded by daring scientists will give way the next, the present sense of international to aerial pleasure-ships cruising at high speed. security will be destroyed. The next step, if no great wars in the mean Nations will be compelled in self-protection time divert attention from the value of aerial to convene a world congress and to declare navigation in promoting international trade, common warfare upon aerial brigandage. will be an air-ship traffic in light-weight The conquest of one civilized state by another merchandise, like silks, perhaps, from Yoko- will be a thing of the past. All countries hama to America and Europe, and diamonds will realize that the only enemy to be fought from Antwerp to New York. is the aerial outlawry that must menace the Smugglers will almost instantly take ad- stability of every civilization. vantage of air-ship navigation to evade cus- In consequence, every air-ship will be toms frontiers, and the effect will be to obliged to have an international license. The make foolish the nearly two hundred tariff world, become an economic unit, will com- walls that now divide the nations. It will bine against all the ships of the air that be impossible for any nation to keep out know no law. An international system of contraband craft, which could cross an ocean aerial squadrons will be organized to destroy or a continent in a night. No country can the highwaymen of the heavens. maintain a sufficient number of aerial revenue There are many skeptics who doubt the cutters to patrol the sky. That would be coming of the air-ship. It has already flown almost like attempting to control the move- short distances. Despite this, the unbelievers ments of migratory birds. have their eyes fixed upon the ground. The As the next step, just as the caravels of same men scouted the possibility of horseless Spain and the Yankee packets have given vehicles. Their forbears laughed at the tele- way to trade steamers and turbine passen- graph. Samuel Morse told them at Wash- 175 176 Everybody's Magazine ington that if he could send a message ten Further, they assert that up to at least two miles, he would ultimately flash one around thousand pounds, the accidents of flight will the world. But when Congress reluctantly diminish as the weight of the air-ship is in- voted a few thousand dollars to build an creased. Recently, Alexander Graham Bell experimental line from the national capital authorized the publication of his prediction to Baltimore, one of the class of doubters that within ten years war-ships will follow that now laughs loud at the promise of the birds in the air, and that passengers on aerial air-ship, moved as an amendment that part liners can eat breakfast as they leave the of the appropriation be used for the survey American continent and dine the same day in of a railway route to the moon. Liverpool or Berlin. The great fortune that The air-ship has vast possibilities. It will this inventor has made out of the tele- bear watching. phone acquits him of having been a visionary in the past, however staggering his present Man has been studying the flight of birds prophecy. for centuries. He has attempted to imitate The most determined leaders of the new it, and has gone deep into biology trying to school now candidly confess that since the ascertain the principles involved. Yet all. Mongolfier brothers sent up their balloon but one of these principles has remained un- in France, more than a century has been discovered. Truly, it has seemed that the wasted in aerial experiments totally foreign exclamation of the philosopher in the Book to the laws of bird-flight. If birds were lighter of Proverbs, “The way of an eagle in the than air, they would be blown about as bal- air! This is too wonderful for me," was to loons are now. Even the dirigible balloon, remain for all time the epigrammatic sum- though provided with a sail-like rudder and ming up of man's inability to unravel the propelled by a wheel operated by a motor, mystery of travel across the heavens. can be guided about only in a calm. These The one fact in regard to the flight of birds craft, lighter than the atmosphere, are not air- that has struggled for recognition through- ships. They are merely modified balloons. out all the years of theorizing and discussion Last year I witnessed an experiment in is that these creatures are not buoyant. navigation of the air by one of these buoyant Alive they weigh practically the same as when vehicles. From a window in the East Room dead. Shot in mid-air they fall like meteors of the White House I saw it sail over the A bird is not a balloon. Indeed, the bulk of Washington Monument and come down to a bird is nearly one thousand times heavier visit President Roosevelt. I saw the Presi- than air. dent go out and greet the aeronaut and later This fundamental principle, that all winged I saw the daring voyager rise in his craft, creatures are heavier than the bulk of the which he guided at will over the Treasury air they displace, has vast significance for Building and down Pennsylvania Avenue to aeronauts, who are now for the first time put- the National Capitol. There his advent cre- ting it in operation. It is on this basis that ated such excitement that it broke up a 'ses- bold experimenters, abandoning balloons, are sion of the Senate. So thoroughly stirred launching aeroplanes and other aerial craft was the city that the captain of this aerial actually heavier than air. It was the pio- vessel was asked by the superintendent of neers who, disregarding gas and gossamer the schools to fly from his country park to bags, went to the condor and the tawny vul- Washington again the next day for the de- ture for instruction that paved the way for light and edification of the children. This the current successes of Santos Dumont in was agreed to, and twenty-four hours later Paris and of the Wright brothers in America. fifty thousand little ones crowded the ellipse, A new interest has now been awakened the parks, and the open spaces around throughout the world in the physics of bird- Washington Monument and by special per- flight. Reasoning from the Nubian vulture, mission were allowed to clamber to the bal- which, weighing from seventeen to twenty- cony around the Capitol's dome. two pounds, moves majestically in its course On the first day there had been a dead undisturbed by tempests, advanced students calm. On the children's day, there was a of aerial navigation predict that an aero- slight breeze blowing, just enough to give plane weighing ten times as much as a vul- definite direction to the smoke from chimneys ture will ultimately move through the air and to make the flags wave, but that breath with even greater security and steadiness. of wind was too formidable for the fragile The Mystery of Bird-Flight 177 balloon - supported ship. It did not appear, though the thousands of children re- mained until nightfall, their eager gaze fixed on the heavens. I understood then what the most progressive ornith- ologists and students of aeronautics meant by insist- ing that the balloon has no analogue in nature and that if any bird were lighter than the air, it would be unable to determine the course of its flight whenever a slight wind was stirring. creature, this network of air- chambers, becoming filled with air warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, en- ables the bird to rise. It is true that the gannet, the pigeon, the pelican, the al- batross, and other flying birds are equipped with air-cham- bers, but the Australian emu, which flies, when at all, with the greatest difficulty, as well as the ostrich and the apteryx, which cannot fly at all, are also provided with these air-cells —and so, too, is the orang-utan! Moreover, notably good flyers-swiſts, martins, snipes, the gloss starling, the spotted-flycatcher, the wood-wren, and the black-headed bunting, have bones destitute of air, some of them, in fact, being filled with marrow. No fallacy in science has been more diffi- There have been decades of dispute over the value of the hollow bones and the air- sacs in many species of birds. It has been contended that inasmuch as the temperature of birds is higher than that of any other THE BLACK SKIMMER DARTING DOWN FOR PREY. " ROWERS" PROCEEDING BY KAPID BEATING OF WINGS. cult to puncture than this air-cell or balloon only during the period of courtship. It then theory of flight. The great air-pouch of the assumes a bright red color or takes on its sur- man-o'-war bird and the gular pouch of the face the blue tints of the sky. Then as this bustard, both strong flyers, have been fre- bird balloon begins to subside it assumes a quently cited in support of the theory that translucent orange shade. All this perform- the inflation of suitable receptacles is an indis- ance, naturalists employed by the United pensable factor in the most successful flight. States Government have set forth in a recent It is true that the pouch of the man-o'-war report, is merely a theatrical display on the bird when inflated resembles a toy balloon part of the male to attract attention to his tied to his neck. The curious thing about charms. After he wins his mate and the eggs this is, however, that the pouch is blown up are laid, he ceases to inflate his toy balloon. 178 The Mystery of Bird-Flight 179 The explanation of bird-flight that occurs The sharp-shinned hawk in pursuit of prey to the casual observer is that these winged maintains an unerring flight. If the pursued creatures fly by flapping their wings. But all wheels suddenly, so does the pursuer; and birds do not do so. In fact, the birds that fly Cooper's hawk, in pursuit of small birds, the best and most fearlessly can proceed for speeds through the undergrowth of a forest, hours and sometimes for a whole day, and not darting in and out like a shadow, and never infrequently against the force of a storm, with coming in contact with a limb. out making the slightest perceptible move- As a further illustration, selected out of ment of their wings. numberless instances, take the marsh hawk. Considerable study has been devoted to In the nesting period, the female, sitting on the remarkable ability of vultures to fly with her eggs, waits for the male, who forages out beating their wings. Field observations about, seeking what he may bring to his in Northern Africa reveal that some of the mate. At the instant he appears overhead, larger species of vulture leave their perches in the female rises with great power, poises at the morning and soar about all day over the proper point, and dexterously seizes the mountains and valleys, covering a distance food he drops into her talons. There is no of many leagues, and return to their eyries at waiting for a favorable air-current. night, without a single stroke of their wings This theory of necessary air-currents may throughout the whole day's voyaging. have been as serious a hindrance to the prog- Although the secret of flight on motionless ress of aeronautics as has been the fallacy wings is at present beyond the solution of that, in order to sail, a ship must be lighter science, the principle involved gives promise than air. But the fact that there is among of being the one that would be most success- the myriad of bird species a number that fully applied by man in aerial travel. It is wing their way without effort in either calm true that nearly all insects and most of the or storm, some of them sailing on motion- small birds proceed by beating their wings, less pinions, furnishes the hope and possi- sometimes with almost incredible velocity. bility that man may also be- Possibly the air-ships of the future, par- come absolute master of the ticularly those designed for short trips, air. The air-ship may some- may pro- time be as ceed by this indifferent method. But to wind as the present is an ocean tendency is liner. toward sail- ing flight. • Another The most theory to com mon which stu- theory in dents of explanation of flight on bird - flight have devoted motionless wings is that years is that the secret of the birds take advantage flight lies in preliminary of air-currents. It is true momentum gained by run- that birds like the alba- ning or by leaping from a tross need an unfailing height. breeze to enable them to The advocates of this sail, but the man-o'-war interesting theory claim bird can rise in the calm, that the little birds, like and can sail without move- the blackbird, the lark, ment of its wings. and the tomtit, have to Another consideration make a prodigious leap that weakens the air-cur- before they can get safe- rent idea is that birds of ly a - wing, and that the prey will dart instantly in larger ones, like plov- any direction, quite re- ers and tringas, get into gardless of air-currents, action in the air by first when a victim appears. THE COWBIRD. running on the ground. 180 Everybody's Magazine the pigeon's. Walter K. Fisher, the nat- uralist who explored the Laysan and the Leeward Islands for the United States Government, reports that these birds when roused from the nest first sprawled a wkwardly over bushes in the attempt to get aloft, but that cnce a-wing they rose with power and grace, SOARING. THE BARN SWAL- LOW IN FULL Far from this law being universally true, there are many species of winged Flight. creatures, particu- larly some of the hawks and the eagles, that can rise at will into the air without preliminary running. This law of initial energy, however, while not a universal one in flight, has been utilized to great advantage in experiments with air-ships. A review, therefore, of some of the experiments and observations of ornithologists in this connection may be profitable. The tawny vulture has been de- scribed as the king of soarers, but he must get initial energy. Let him leap from a crag and he can sail upward on motionless wing until his great bulk seems to dwindle to the dimensions of an insect and finally disappears. Yet this matchless flyer, adopted by progressive experiment- ers as the model for aerial craft, if put in a roofless cage twenty yards high and twenty yards wide, is un- able to escape! The frigate-bird also supplies con- spicuous proof that the wing alone does not contain the whole me- chanical principle of flight. Con- fined in a certain area this bird, whose aerial evolutions have excited the admiration of every naturalist and mariner that has beheld them, is absolutely powerless. It cannot rise verti- cally. Its pectoral muscles are weaker than THE TERN IN VARIOUS STAGES OF FLIGHT, almost disappearing in the profound depths of the sky. THE TERN LIKE THE GULL BOTH BEATS ITS WINGS AND SAILS. Take another instance: A naturalist visiting took the second petrel to an upper story and Algeria bought from a sailor four captive launched it from a window, but having no in- stormy petrels. They weighed about 1.65 itial velocity it too fell like a stone. The third pounds apiece, their wings were five inches bird he took to the top of an observatory, and wide and had a spread of four feet. The pushed it out into space. It flapped its wings ability of the petrel to breast the most furi- desperately but nevertheless lunged down- ous storms has been universally admired. ward and broke its wings against a post. Its name is derived from its power of walking The naturalist was now convinced that the stormy petrel's feats at sea are made possible because it first gets up momentum by running along the top of the water. Wishing to give the remaining bird a chance to demonstrate his theory, he took it out into a desertlike plain bare of grass, smooth as the surface of a calm sea. “Here,” the naturalist reports, “I set my fourth petrel down. It squatted at first and then turned with its beak to the wind and its wings outstretched, and started running, beat- ing its wings, not hampered by any herbage. It ran a hundred yards, carrying its weight less and less on its feet, and finally all on its wings, but all the time skimming the ground. on the waves, like the Apostle Peter, and its At last with a single bound, catching the wind, courage and strength in planting its foot- the petrel rose sixty feet, careened around and steps on the crests of the most tempestuous flew past me overhead and glanced at me on sea, have given a text to many writers. The its way, as if to say: ‘Success in flight is all naturalist, wishing to release his captive pet based upon momentum.”” rels, threw one of them into the air. It tried But the scientists who pin their faith to to fly but fell headlong, went crashing against initial momentum omit explanation as to how a stone wall and battered out its brains. He sailing-birds can hover in a certain spot on THE TODY. 181 THE PIGEON AT THE MOMENT OF STARTING: SHOWING THAT INITIAL VELOCITY IS NOT AN INVARIABLE LAW OF FLIGHT. motionless wing, and then proceed, without for some birds, but the law is not universal. any need of initial velocity, on their mysteri- Air-ships employing some power outside of ous flight. the craft itself at the start, have already been Even the little sparrow-hawk can perform launched successfully, thus showing that the this seeming miracle. The naturalist Bendire principle can be made to apply. But that describes how these handsome, diminutive fal- all air-ships of the future must invoke this cons, even when flying at full speed, have the law and be shot out of aerial harbors on power to arrest their flight instantly and to headlong voyages is by no means evident. suspend themselves in midair over some spot where they have located their prey, and then, if In the attempt to discover some universal occasion requires, to resume their rapid flight. law of flight scientists have disclosed concern- The goshawk, too, one of the most sangui- ing a number of species a most puzzling nary bandits of the air, whose flight is swift paradox, perhaps, the most mysterious of the and amazingly strong, does not bother with enigmas of bird-flight. It is that in a number preliminaries. It sits in a secluded spot, and of birds and insects the size of the wings de- at the instant a ptarmigan passes, the gos- creases in proportion to the increase in size hawk rises like a rocket and seizes its quarry. of the body of the flying creature. The Aus- It has, besides, been seen to sail for hours in tralian crane, for instance, weighs over three the Alaskan sky, without the slightest motion hundred times more than the sparrow, but of its pinions, and then suddenly to rush in proportion has only one-seventh the wing across the azure when a bird victim ventured area of the smaller bird. within sight. This curious law is equally striking if we I have before me a scientist's report of the compare birds with insects. If the gnat were striking spectacle of an eagle launching him- increased in size until it was as large as the self from an ash-tree and rising steadily for a Australian crane and if the wings of the insect hundred yards into the air, “while he also were enlarged to maintain the proportion they advanced some fifty yards against the wind, now bear to its body, they would be about one without a single beat or impulse of his mighty hundred and fifty times larger than the crane's. wing." It requires 3.62 square feet of wing area Obviously the way of a frigate-bird and a per pound to float the bank-swallow, but to petrel is not the way of an eagle and a hawk. sustain the tawny vulture, a monstrous bird in Initial impulse, therefore, may be necessary comparison, requires only .68 of a square foot 182 The Mystery of Bird-Flight 183 .: of wing surface per pound of body. The alba- necessary to amplify wings in keeping with tross, weighing eighteen pounds, has a spread the increase in size of the body, a big air-ship of wing of eleven feet and six inches, while would be impossible, as its sailing area would the trumpeter swan, weighing twenty-eight have to be gigantic. The enormous size of pounds, has a spread of wing of only eight the wings of insects, in comparison with their feet. The stork weighs eight times more than bodies, will appear if the weight of these tiny the pigeon but in proportion has only half as creatures is multiplied to a pound, and their much wing surface. wing area is proportionately increased. Thus, The following table, which has been care for example, if the gnat weighed a pound, its fully compiled by a scientist, furnishes further wings would have to cover 49 square feet! reason for the acceptance of the law of wing The dragon-fly would require 30 square feet surfaces. The table discloses that the screech- of wing area, the ladybird 26.6 square feet, owl, the sparrow-hawk, the blackheaded gull, the tipula, or crane-fly, 14.5 square feet, and the goshawk, the fish-hawk, and the turkey- the bee, 5.25 square feet. If this multiplication buzzard all have greater proportionate wing of wing surfaces went on, as weight increased, surface than the condor! through the bird kingdom to the condor, and 'finally to air-ships, the hope of man's aerial flight would have to be greatly limited. Wing Square Feet. It seems apparent that in some strange way of Weight. gravity, instead of being a handicap, con- Screech-owl...... tributes to the forward movement of the body 0.776 2.35 Sparrow-hawk ... .69 2.05 of the bird. One theory is that the wings Blackheaded gull. .619 .92 1.49 act as kites, and that the body, held to earth Goshawk........ .641 .84 1.31 by the invisible cords of gravity, serves the Fish-hawk....... 2.80 3.01 Turkey-buzzard.. same purpose that the string does in the hand 5-33 Flamingo........ 6.34 3-50 of a boy. If the boy runs against the wind, Griffin-vulture ... 16.52 11.38 the kite rises. Thus, the heavy body, lung- Condor.......... 16.52 9.80 ing forward, acts upon the kite-like wings and facilitates the upward journey of the The value of the data set forth in the above bird. It is a somewhat difficult speculation table cannot be overestimated, for if it were to accept. Square Fect of Wing Surface per Pound Weight in Pounds. NAME. Surface in 0.33 -336 1.108 5.6 .95 50 THE GULL-BILLED TERN; ILLUSTRATING FLIGHT WITH MOTIONLESS WINGS. 184 Everybody's Magazine There is another speculation in regard to the puzzling mystery of bird-flight, which is more suggestive and even startling. It is that the bird is a sort of dynamo, and that it very valuable in restoring equilibrium. It is known that the wing is joined to the body of the bird by what is called a universal joint, enabling the creature to make almost every TO THE MOMENT OF ALIGHTING, PERFECT BALANCE MUST BE MAINTAINED. absorbs power from the atmosphere. Ac- cording to this idea, an elemental force, akin to the secret something that conveys wireless messages, is utilized by the bird. It is likely that the bird's superb ease and grace in the air are due to its ability to main tain absolute balance. If a gull makes the mistake of bending until the wind strikes its head and wings on the top, it will tumble in- stantly. And the sailing-birds, though they make no flapping motion with their wings, are constantly balancing themselves, like a man on a tight rope. Some scientists have main- tained that the air-sacs make it possible for the bird to manage minute changes that are possible motion. The body of a man is heavier than water, but if he gets into a po- sition of perfect balance, he will float. In some such way, it is claimed, the bird floats in the air. But as the bird would fall much more rapidly in the air than a man's body would sink in the water, the necessity for a far more subtle ability to keep the center of gravity on the part of the bird is apparent. Hence, according to this theory, the bird is provided for this purpose with the most sen- sitive equipment, made up of nerves and mysterious air-ducts; many of the wing feathers, perhaps, acting as sentinels, warn- ing instantly of the slightest approach of shift- ing currents. One View 185 Nor is this speculation as fantastic as at modern man that the winged messengers of first it might seem to be. We believe that the the sky fly about in utter abandonment of three semicircular canals of the inner ear of freedom, and beckon him to follow. human beings in some inexplicable way pre- All the governments have become vastly side over the balancing of our bodies. If interested in trying to discover the principles these canals are removed or injured, coordina- of this mysterious aerial flight. Germany tion in walking is impossible, and the victim and France have established schools in which is unable even to sit erect. It is, therefore, the physics of bird-flight and the engineering not utterly unbelievable that the air-cells or problems of aeronautics are studied. Under hollow bones of birds may facilitate the rare a grant from the Smithsonian Institution at power of balancing possessed by these winged Washington, Dr. von Lendenfeld, of the creatures. Zoological Institute, of Prague, is conducting Yet, even in this phase of the mystery of advanced experiments to discover all the se- bird-flight, we are brought back to the value crets of bird-flight. He has been at this fas- of weight, for without it the greatest feats cinating and significant work for six years, of balancing are impossible. “The eagle," and the facts disclosed have warranted the says one ornithologist, “remains motionless United States Government in advancing him in the air, on rigid wings, using only his tail a further sum to continue the experiments. to balance himself. He is as if fixed to the The researches will now include a study of sky. The falcon (a lighter bird) also remains the mechanical laws in the flight of insects. at a fixed point, but he must beat his wings. Of the most vital importance at the present The lark cannot perform the maneuver, un- stage of progress in aerial flight is the con- der the same atmospheric conditions, without clusion of scientists that successful flight will painful effort, as it is constantly carried away be achieved in craft vastly heavier than the by the wind.” air displaced; and its corollary—the law of If all birds were extinct, and some paleon- wing surfaces — though not indeed funda- tologist should announce that creatures 1,000 mental, is only second in importance. times heavier than air once winged gracefully. It is not the fact that these principles are through it, that the heavier they were the newly discovered that makes them significant, smaller was the relative wing area required, but that aeronauts have daringly accepted and that the very heaviest of these marvelous them as part of the secret of successful flight. creatures were able, without the slightest mo- The auspicious thing is that man is begin- tion, to maintain themselves balanced be- ning to follow the way of the eagle in the air tween earth and sky, he would excite the without waiting to understand all the mys- merriment and even the ridicule of man- tery of its flight. A Marconi editor, sitting kind. at a wireless desk and receiving news out of "If the stars,” Emerson said, "should ap- the sky for the ship's daily paper, confessed pear one night in a thousand years, how would to me a few months ago that he and his col- man believe and adore, and preserve for leagues were unable to understand the mys- many generations the remembrance of the terious agency they invoked. It is possible city of God which had been shown.” The that when man flies successfully, he will know orderly law in the march of the planets we little more about the law that sustains him have fathomed. It is more suggestive to than the bird knows. One View By THEODORA WILSON WILSON LOR Life is wider than an open eye, 1 Is deeper than an unshed tear. The Heart moves swifter than the pulse can fly- Yet Wisdom hides in Laughter clear. The Husband of a Celebrity An Autobiography I WAS once a celebrity. Not an eminence. every suggestion that I could she always 1 No fingers pointed at me, nor did hands availed herself of my suggestions, and she still clap when I appeared in public places. Some- seeks them, now that I am almost ashamed to times a head turned—not often enough to offer them. She began after some months to make me so accustomed to the tribute that I get illustrations for small magazines, and she did not take notice. But in my own set, I made a good deal of money. She said, frankly, was in view; almost arrivé. I had entered the that she didn't care for the art of the thing, so promising class. Two of my landscapes had long as she could feel that she was satisfving been well hung on the wall of the Society of her editors. In hours when I wasn't pon- American Artists. One of these had pre- dering over my own ideas, I helped her with viously received a médaille at the Salon; the the illustrations; they were surprisingly good, newspapers gave a good deal of attention to it, to begin with. Illustration, however, was and a well-known amateur of pictures bought hardly my metier, and gradually I ceased to it. He paid well for it, and I felt that I could concern myself with my wife's work. At first afford to spend time in inviting my soul and in I didn't care to have her going about to visit expressing it in a great work-something that the offices of art editors, but presently, when should make me immortal. I had ideas—I I found that she always came back with rosy must resist the temptation of exposing them cheeks and a fresh bit of gossip, I grew here. I have thought them over a great deal, to tolerate her enterprises. When we both and I have spent some years in perfecting broke down in health, it was a surprise to me them. They may bear fruit in the future. to find that she had a bank-account sufficient But while I was working them out, I began, in to send us to Italy for a year. off moments, to give hints to my wife. At the I had never been in Italy—she had. The risk of disclosing my identity, I shall have to galleries and churches were new to me, and explain that she was one of my students in a while I was wandering about them and as- life class; our marriage made a noise in our sembling new modifications of my ideas from small world, and stories about it are still the Florentine school, she found some models afloat. That I should marry one of my pupils and amused herself with painting them. I was a great honor for her. She felt it-she let her go on, pleased that she was entertain- still feels it. She has always preserved a pro- ing herself; but one day she asked timidly if I per enthusiasm for my theories. She wants would criticize a little beggar girl that she had me to do great works; she thinks that I can, done-and I couldn't have done her so well and so do I. But so far as the practical gain- myself. It wasn't in my style, but it was ing of bread and butter by painting is con- good. It was so good that I began to pay cerned-yes, and more than that—I have per- careful attention to my wife's work. When we force to confess that she has eclipsed me. came back to New York, I found that I had to That I am not jealous of her fame is evident pay still more careful attention to it. Our -otherwise I shouldn't be writing this. health had come back. But my ideas had She began by doing advertisements. There become confused with the multitude of new wasn't a financial need of it. With the cache impressions that I had taken in from a new that we had received for my picture, and country which had been a haunt of child- what pot-boilers I could do, we had enough to hood with her; being quite familiar, it hadn't keep us contented; but she liked to win her disturbed her. I couldn't paint-to please own pin-money, and as long as she didn't let myself. But she went right on. She got por- the household go wrong, I had no objections traits to do. I helped her with them. I still to offer. On the contrary, I helped her with help her with them-but I couldn't do them. 186 The Husband of a Celebrity 187 She is, in her own style, bevond me. She bring in, though, is mighty little in compari- went forth among her friends and got por- son. She knows nothing of it; I keep my traits to do, and presently orders for portraits little bank-account secret; she wouldn't ap- began to come to her. I sent some of them prove of my doing pot-boilers. to the Society—and three of them were ac- The very fact that I say that she wouldn't cepted and well placed-and my own land approve of it shows the reversal of our atti- scape, on which I had worked for a year, tudes. It has come about gradually and in- came back to me. I am not growling. I sensibly—through no desire of hers; she is not have had a landscape exhibited since then in a hen-pecker, by nature. It has come partly the Society-hung not far from three por- through my own growing respect for her traits by my wife. My particular personality work. It is not my kind of work; not so per- in art doesn't please the committee. It does sonal; not, I think, and so does she, so original please my friends, and they comfort me as as mine; in short, not on so great a scale. But best they can. But I notice that whenever I it has grown so fast that I don't know where meet one of them he greets me with, “How she may arrive. My own style, I repeat, is are you, Jones; how's your wife?" Among personal. If I ever fill a niche in the temple artists who are not of my movement, it is, of art, it will be a niche of my own-unless “How are you, Jones? You aren't badly public opinion comes around to my point of hung, old chap. I congratulate you. I say! view, as it has to Whistler's. But her style is Mrs. Jones doing pretty good work, isn't she?" obvious. She paints as others have painted- I don't mind that; I can make allowances according to the old traditions, which every for the cattishness of minor artists. But when one knows and understands, and buys; and I confront at a reception-I go to them some- she does it better and better. I should have times, because a painter is supposed to de- been glad to produce in half a year any one of rive benefit from meeting people—when the portraits that she knocks off with such I confront an empty-headed girl, six feet amazing rapidity. And my new realization of tall, whose golf chums have deserted her, and her increasing greatness has quietly changed who tries to be polite to me with, “Mr. Jones, all our relations. For example, nowadays, I are you related to the Mrs. Jones who paints do not like to make the growl that used to be portraits?”—then I go home and think. the inalienable right of a husband, if I don't There is no jealousy in my thoughts—there find fresh underclothing, mornings. Her was no malice in the golf girl. She was simple mood mustn't be disturbed; a clear mind on enough; she was trying in the hurry of her life, her part is of economic importance to us. which is so much faster than mine, to be This brings me to the great point of polite. Often, she adds, “The bright Mrs. change. Our whole life has to be adjusted Jones, you know," before I can manage to ex- to meet her engagements. She hasn't time to plain that I am Mr. Sarah Jones. keep house; we live at an apartment hotel- It has come to that; I am Mr. Sarah Jones. when we are at home at all. We are in other Even financially, I am the husband of my wife. homes a great deal. My wife's portraits lead We have changed places. It is she that makes us far and wide over the country. Her cult is the money for the firm. I haven't sold a among the rich and great, and there is a theory picture for three years-not a real picture; but that she ought to study her subjects in their -oh, well, any painter will understand the own homes, in order to catch their character- bitterness of it-I have, under the rose, done istic moods. She is invited, therefore, to some advertisements lately. It isn't that there visit for indefinite periods of time, often run- is any need of money. She has orders, now, ning up to six or seven weeks, in great houses. that will keep us going for a year or so to I go, too, because we do not like to be sepa- come; she has a waiting-list. But I am in rated, and she has taken from the outset of “ Who's Who' and she isn't, yet-her rise has her career the stand that even for purposes of been too rapid-and just as a matter of pride, business she cannot accept invitations that I feel bound to try for my own pin-money. do not include me. It's our way in America. Sometimes I think But in spite of her loyalty, we are grow- that it's a false way. They understand ing apart. She explains to every one that across the water that a wife may nourish her I am a genius, and every one treats me pet husband. But I can't part from my na- with courtesy-too much courtesy. Because tional traditions--that a man must do some of her enthusiasm I have even sold one or thing every day to bring in wages. What I two pictures to patrons who didn't under- 188 Everybody's Magazine stand them, and who, I fancy, after we went For there is some dinner on every night. away hung them in the cellar. My wife's When we are visiting Sally's patrons, we patrons are polite to me, but they do not talk late at night, in our rooms. We gossip seek me out for talk, after a day or two. over the events of the day. I think that They are mainly interested either in society we look forward to these talks as the great or in affairs, or in both, and I don't know pleasures of our lives. Certainly I do, and much about those things. I can talk about she says that she does, and I believe her. She pictures, and a little about fiction and music; has native wit, and I have acquired from her I suppose that the tongues of all painters a certain facility in epigram, which I venture waggle freely on these subjects. But I am to use, however, only with timidity, except to not concerned about the price of stocks— her. But our bedtime confabs are divert- even of the stocks in which our money is ing to both of us; and we turn in, proud of invested—nor about the good points of a ourselves because we have turned out such horse, or a gasoline engine. Moreover, I interesting phrases. I am revealing this hate bridge, and all other games of cards. because I wish to insist upon the perfect The consequence is that my hosts do the best understanding that exists between me and the they can with me, after they take my meas- celebrity that owns me; an understanding ure. With my hostesses, I get on a few days that has helped to keep up my self-respect. more, and there is usually a voung girl or two But the fact remains that we haven't that who adopts my wife's view that I am a genius, intimacy of life which was ours in the first and adores me. They insist on coming out six years of our marriage, when she used to with me mornings in the country, when we are come into the studio, after she had done her in the midst of house parties and I am sketch marketing, and draw or sew in silence, or ing our host's plantations of decorative trees- when we took our kits out into the woods and faute de mieux—but I don't care much for sketched together, all day. We had our life young girls. Our main point of sympathy is together then. Nowadays, I have my hour that they adore my wife, too, as every one with her. In New York we have separate does. She has always been more facile in talk studios. I saw that her sitters didn't care to than I; by facile, I don't mean merely me- have me around, and, besides, I believe, there chanical; she isn't a person of small-talk, ex- was some idea that two artists working in cept incidentally; she has ideas; I have seen one room suggested an economy that didn't her surprise statesmen with them, and even please the class of picture-buyers whose taste captains of industry. She is not concentrated my wife satisfies. I say that I believe it; as a on one purpose, as I am. The consequence matter of fact I know it, for I overheard some is that her patrons have become her friends; advice given to her by a hard little climber, she is a personage; to be painted by her has as metallic as the steel that her husband's become a kind of cachet of nobility. To me father used to manufacture. Sally will paint they are merely acquaintances, and many of any one who can give her price. She takes then I don't meet at all. out her extra pay for the patronizing airs of When we are in New York, she is not often some of her clients by painting them as they at home for luncheon. Commonly she has are. Some of them don't know it, and the some engagement having to do with a por- others don't dare to complain—I'm using trait or perhaps an investment-for a year, Sally's phrase. This climber woman prof- now, our money has been invested according fered her counsel one morning just as I was to the advice of her friends, and we are pros- coming in from the Palisades; there is a perous. I could go with her to those lunch screen to shut off drafts from the door. eons at Sherry's or the Martin, but I don't “I'm so glad to have found you alone to- want to. I prefer to come from the studio to dav,” said the sitter, from the other side of the have an hour or two with the kiddie and his screen. “Will you mind if I tell you that grandmother. There is no unpleasant insinu- when one's posing mornings in an evening ation in this. My wife is not neglecting the frock, one doesn't care to be seen by a man, kiddie; she has her hour with him at the end even if he's only—” Yes, she went as far as of his day, and she has never once missed it. that, but she caught herself up; I dare say She has her hours with me, too; long hours at that Sally glared at her; she bristles up in the end of our days-in New York they come defense of me like a hen with a chicken. after dinner parties given either at some house “Don't misunderstand, my dear Mrs. Jones," or, if we are entertaining, in a restaurant. she went on. “You see, our husbands are The Husband of a Celebrity 189 PUM all down-town; it's the fashion in America for plete without her. I even knew about her men to be occupied, and we don't see them myself, and had some curiosity as to her in the mornings, except foreigners. Of fascination. Our visit to her house-our course, artists are different. But we aren't newspapers call it a palace, but it isn't, accustomed to appear in sunlight with bare judged by European standards of palaces; necks before men. And, besides—you won't it is just a comfortable house-happened to be offended—it looks so mean for two artists fall in the midst of a large party. We to have the same studio. You must be were eighteen or twenty or so at dinner, making enough to keep a place to yourself. and a mob of celebrated persons came after- It would do you good—I hope you don't mind. ward; there was some question on of an I'm telling you this for your own sake—" I exposition. It included a picture gallery, don't know what was said afterward, for I and I knew that my wife would be mad to slipped out. Sally did not tell me about this have me represented and would be pulling talk, and I didn't tell her that I had over- wires. I can't pull wires; with her, it is ap- heard. But after a couple of weeks I decided parently a joyous part of the game. She to have a hut to myself in the country. On flirts outrageously with foolish old men who the whole, I dare say the separation is best know what they like in pictures, and so have for the work of both of us. I work harder been chosen on committees to select can- myself when I am separated from Sally, and vases for presentation before the public. I develop my own ideas farther—when I am When she is doing that, I don't interfere; she with her I find myself unknowingly influenced doesn't like to have me around; I can't re- by her stronger personality. As for her, she strain myself from what I suppose is dog- is freer to concentrate her forces without me- matism about paint, and I make enemies. she made no objection to my proposition of On this occasion I sought my usual refuge separate workwoms; she even welcomed it from chatter—the smoking-room. If I could for my sake. She understood that it would write, I should make an essay about smoking- be better for me to have my plant of paints rooms; I've seen a good many. When they and canvas, etc., out among the trees and are infested with golf, or football, or tennis, I rivers that I have chosen to represent. Her sit in my corner, and puff. This time there own studio is hung with my pictures-hers were no college students, nor were there any are too precious to stay there. We can't middle-aged raconteurs of impossibilities. afford to have them, even if others hadn't The meeting outside was a serious matter, paid retainers for them in advance. and the guests were particularly invited to Her portrait of the little climber woman be interested in it, and most of them didn't was a sinful piece of vindictiveness. But I dare not to be. Nevertheless, there drifted have a soft spot in my heart for the climber into the realm of whisky and cigars four or woman. She aroused me to look about at five men. I knew some of them. One was, husbands, and my observation has in the ļn a way, a painter; he had given up painting long run given me some consolation. I had for illustration, and he wrote articles to set begun to believe that I was unique in America off his work. Another I knew as a news- -the only man who slunk along under the paper man. Presently our host, a whole- shadow of his wife. But before I had my some man, paused at the door and burst out own shop out on the Palisades in good run- into a haw-haw. ning order, our ménage-except the kiddie, “I thought so," he said. “Here we are, all who stays with his grandmother—was trans- together, the husbands!” ferred to a very great house indeed, in another I don't know how I took it. In my city. It was our hostess that my wife was curiosity as to how the others would take it, summoned to paint. She is a world-figure. I relapsed out of the self-consciousness that She has been called the best hostess in Amer- has been fast enveloping me of late, into the ica; she has entertained the most exalted per- mood of alert observation that used to be sonages, here and abroad-even royalty itself, mine when I was my own man, with a wife to in those realms where rulers dine with any support. I fancy that I didn't even blush. but their subjects and visiting sovereigns. The painter-man did, though, and fung She has been the representative of Ameri- away his cigar. The journalist turned can women wherever American womanhood haughtily from his prints, with a “Good needed to be officially represented. No evening, Mr. Rathborn.” I have since found world's congress, nor world's fair, is com- out that he lives in an atmosphere of combat; 190 Everybody's Magazine he interviews his wife's managers, and makes into a creature-comfortable condition, such her contracts, and states her grievances. Our as, according to the traditions of chivalry, host didn't notice him; he was joining up- women used to be supposed to hold. At all roariously in the bursts of laughter that his events, there are not many of them. But of witticism caused at the whisky table. No men like our host and his companions, there galled jades winced there. And yet, in the are, I find comfort in observing, a vast course of the evening, I found out that the number. Apparently, for example, one of wife of one of the men sitting there was a them exists in every town in this country famous wit and leader of society, never out of where there is a woman's club. He is a the newspapers, the adoration of every one minor butcher or grocer, and he appears in who knows her, and the scandal of every one the public prints—the arbiters of distinction who doesn't, and that the other was the hus- -only in the advertising pages; but his wife's band of the president of a national organiza- election to the secretaryship of the women's tion of women. Both of them must have club, or as a delegate to the National Con- been called Mr.—whatever their wives' vention of Women's Clubs, is proclaimed in Christian names are—for years, but they the society column, which is read with respect tolerated that, even with amusement. They by his townspeople. Her receptions, too, had their own resources, in Wall Street, command attention in the local record of where they are respected, just as I am re- public events. I believe it to be a very good spected by a few persons who know about arrangement; it cements the marriage tie. If paint. It so happened that a man presently my new observation of what some one has brought in sandwiches. He tripped against called the “submerged” husband isn't awry, the leg of the table, and spilled every one's he is increasingly kind and attentive to his whisky-by this time we were gathered wife, as he sees that other persons value her together. After he had gone out for cloths more highly. And it is kindness and atten- to wipe up the mess, our host's shoulders tion that keep wives devoted to their husbands. came down from the level of his ears. The "misunderstood” woman, who is look- "I can't let him go,” he apologized. ing out for an “affinity,” is she whose husband “He's one of us. His wife's my wife's maid, treats her as though she were a nonentity- and she's too perfect to lose.” am I not right? Take the wife of the butcher That was a precious evening to me; it or the grocer who gets him into the higher took me out of myself, revealed to me that society of his town, if you wish to be cynical, others are overshadowed by their wives and or who makes his shop the vogue, and thereby are not ashamed-and incidentally that those holds him a little in awe of her. In return who are ashamed do not have that self- for this respect and attention, she gives him control that we are accustomed to expect of a certain quality of wifely affection that is a man in his relations with his fellow men always half motherly, and that insures a -in short, good breeding. The journalist happy home for him. Mrs. Jellyby may and the painter were unmistakably ill at exist among us, but she doesn't pervade ease; the stock-brokers hadn't a thought of us. being ill at ease. They had their interests For a time, I thought that to our new apart; they left what they are comfortably nineteenth-century emancipation of woman ready to acknowledge as the “higher" realms was due the submergence of husbands, and of art, literature, music, and polite con- it may be that the wife has never been so versation, to their wives, the superior beings. dominant as she is to-day. But I have found They were even proud of their wives, being some small consolation in the reflection that at the same time content to wallow-as they from time to time, throughout the ages, hus- easily put it-in stocks and politics. But my bands have had to play the moon. At least, aesthetic friends hadn't the consolation of a they treat us better than they did in the days life by themselves; they had been outstripped of the Egyptians, when Hatshepsu wore the in their own higher realm by beings that were clothes of a man and sported false whiskers, undoubtedly superior, but incongruously and Cleopatra killed off her spouse. Nowa- female; and they didn't like it. I dare say days they cherish us. And particularly in that the men of affairs whose wives are America, where there is still so much to presidents of banks, or perhaps deal in South be done in the “development of our re- American franchises, don't like it either- sources,” we may well stand upon our own unless, indeed, they are content to relapse muddy feet, and let them spread their wings. The White Bell-Mare 191 I am presuming to speak for those of us who are standing upon economic feet. For the others, like myself, who are trying to soar- well, I can only speak for myself. I am happy. I am free to do my own work—to develop my own ideas-by grace of my wife. I am not jealous of her success. But I shall be glad, when the time shall come the time when the world shall see that I paint land- scapes right, and she will be glad, too. The White Bell-Mare By EDITH M. THOMAS (Suggested by a picture by Frederic Remington.) A CROSS the plains I see them sweep, Against the ebbing light. The pace they keep they still will keep At silent noon of night: A fleet foot rules the caravan, And sets the pace for beast and man! The bell-mare takes the dusty road, No rowel pricks her side; She knows no rein, she owns no goad, Save in her mettled pride. The steeds that follow need no scourge, So well they feel her vanward urge! For her is neither lash nor check, She keeps the pace she will! A single bell about her neck Sounds sweet, when all is still- When all is still, and night is deep; And they that ride, ride half asleep! She sets the pace—that leader fleet; The rest—they but pursue. ... They have their fate from her swift feet, Yet fate o'errules her, too; For 'tis the pace—the pace—the pace Controls her fleet and snowy grace! They vanish on the glimmering plain, Beneath the western verge. ... And all our life is like that train, That heeds a vanward urge: We deem we travel as we will--- But 'tis the pace controls us still! At Daybreak By CHARLES BUXTON GOING S the faint dawn crept upward, gray and dim, A He saw her move across the past to him- Her eyes as they had looked in long-gone years, Tender with love, and soft with thoughts of tears. Her hands, outstretched as if in wonderment, Nestled in his, and rested there, content. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “what glad dream is this? I feel your clasp—your long-remembered kiss “Touches my lips; I hold your tender form Close in my arms again-yea, close and warm “As in the days when first you used to creep Into my heart; and yet, this is not sleep- “Is it some vision, that with night will flv?" “Nay, dear,” she answered; “it is really 1." “Yea, little sweetheart, it is you, I know! But it is strange the dead can meet us so, “Bodied as we are; see, how like we stand!" “Yea,” she replied, “in form, and face, and hand.” Silent awhile he held her to his breast, As if afraid to try the further test- Then, speaking quickly: “Must you go away?” “Nay, dear,” she murmured; “neither night nor day!”. Close on her bosom then she drew his head, Trembling: “I do not understand!” he said. "I thought the spirit world was far apart. ..." “Nay!” she replied; “it is not, now, dear heart! “Quick! let me close your eyes with kisses . . . so... Cling to me, dear! 'tis but a step to go!” The white-faced watchers rose, beside his bed: “Shut out the day," they signed; “our friend is dead!” ** SS 192 Folna The Fifth Wheel By 0. HENRY Author of "The Four Million," "The Trimmed Lamp," etc. Illustrations by James Preston THE ranks of the Bed Line moved closer I together; for it was cold, cold. They were alluvial deposit of the stream of life lodged in the delta of Fifth Avenue and Broadway. The Bed Liners stamped their freezing feet, looked at the empty benches in Madison Square whence Jack Frost had evicted them, and muttered to one another in a confusion of tongues. The Flatiron Building, with its impious, cloud-piercing architecture looming mistily above them on the opposite delta, might well have stood for the tower of Babel, whence these polyglot idlers had been called by the winged walking delegate of the Lord. Standing on a pine box a head higher than his flock of goats, the Preacher exhorted whatever transient and shifting audience the north wind doled out to him. It was a slave market. Fifteen cents bought you a man. You deeded him to Morpheus; and the re- cording angel gave you credit. The Preacher was incredibly earnest and unwearied. He had looked over the list of things one may do for one's fellow man, and had assumed for himself the task of putting to bed all who might apply at his soap box on the nights of Wednesday and Sunday. That left but five nights for other philan- thropists to handle; and had they done their part as well, this wicked city might have be- come a vast Arcadian dormitory where all might snooze and snore the happy hours away, letting problem plays and the rent man and business go to the deuce. The hour of eight was but a little while past; sightseers in a small, dark mass of pay ore were gathered in the shadow of General Worth's monument. Now and then, shyly, os- tentatiously, carelessly, or with conscientious exactness one would step forward and bestow upon the Preacher small bills or silver. Then a lieutenant of Scandinavian coloring and enthusiasm would march away to a lodg- ing-house with a squad of the redeemed. All the while the Preacher exhorted the crowd in terms beautifully devoid of eloquence- splendid with the deadly, accusive monotony of truth. Before the picture of the Bed Liners fades you must hear one phrase of the Preach- er's—the one that formed his theme that night. It is worthy of being stenciled on all the white ribbons in the world. “No man ever learned to be a drunkard on five-cent whisky.” Think of it, tippler. It covers the ground from the sprouting rye to the Potter's Field. A clean-profiled, erect young man in the rear rank of the bedless emulated the terra- pin, drawing his head far down into the shell 193 At Daybreak By CHARLES BUXTON GOING As the faint dawn crept upward, gray and dim, A He saw her move across the past to him- eves as they had looked in long-gone years, Tender with love, and soft with thoughts of tears. Her hands, outstretched as if in wonderment. Nestled in his, and rested there, content. "Sweetheart,” he whispered, “what glad dream is I feel your clasp—your long-remembered kiss 66 Touches my lips; I hold your tender form Close in my arms again-yea, close and warm 66 As in the days when first you used to creep Into my heart; and yet, this is not sleep- a nd look me to be at "Is it some vision, that with night will fly?" "Nay, dear,” she answered; “it is really I." i to welcome 6 Yea. little sweetheart, it is you. I know! But it is strange the dead can meet us so, t exactly a case that Cupid is a - Bodied as we are; see, how like we stand! isely, according to “Yea,” she replied, “in form, and face, and ving relatives. I've aar because I don't Silent awhile he held her to his breast. i I've been sick in As if afraid to try the further test- spitals four months. Then. speaking quickly: “Must you go aw go back to her mother. “Nay, dear,” she murmured; "neither nigh se hospital yesterday. That's my tale of Close on her bosom then she drew his he Trembling: “I do not understand!” he sa Thomas. "A man "I thought the spirit world was far apara ich all right. But I hate “Nay!” she replied; "it is not, now, de od kids get the worst of “Quick! let me close your eyes with ki summed up Fifth Avenue Cling to me, dear! 'tis but a step to endid, so red, so smoothly y demolishing the speed The white-faced watchers rose, beside i drew the attention even of “Shut out the day,” they signed; Liners. Suspended and was an extra tire. ortunate company ame loosed. It rolled rapidly an opportu- the Preach- The Fifth Wheel 195 't Chaldean (hiroscope has availed. Could it I be possible?" die car. On Then he addressed less mysterious words le were shout- to the waiting and hopeful Thomas. mes at the red "Sir, I thank you for your kind rescue of rprising Thomas my tire. And I would ask you, if I hav, a question. Do you know the tamils of ad estimated, was Van Smurthes living in Washington Square grand an auto- North?" M. SAID THE PROFESSORER D E O hrt Its Pesliert Thema. I ald offer for the service te bard and save his pride. is way the car led stoppest little, brown, multed chaitent and an imposing gentleman wearing ent sealskin coet and 2 sillt hat in The Frek neri rentleman ceter d the Cit o r pen PP t profiered the cadencer tre rrite -coachman manner and 2 7 Lighter of his redderet eres tras Te t te to be suggestive to the entene pa - the 197 p rITP 11 - FOL Dominations. at the look tras o construer TT linned gentleman terapi liced it inside the car, et intern coachman, and materet o 111 PBB annble words. ' l mote it when IP hely paper para Te a set casinon - TD wice even Isselt rare ancient o est 194 Everybody's Magazine of his coat collar. It was a well-cut tweed coat; and the trousers still showed signs of having flattened themselves beneath the com- pelling goose. But, conscientiously, I must warn the milliner's apprentice who reads this, expecting a Reginald Montressor in straits, to peruse no further. The young man was no other than Thomas McQuade, ex-coach- man, discharged for drunkenness one month before, and now reduced to the grimy ranks of the one-night bed seekers. If you live in smaller New York you must know the Van Smuythe family carriage, drawn by the two 1,500-pound, Ioo to i-shot bays. The carriage is shaped like a bath-tub. In each end of it reclines an old lady Van Smuythe holding a black sunshade the size of a New-year's eve feather tickler. Before his downfall Thomas McQuade drove the Van Smuythe bays and was himself driven by Annie, the Van Smuythe lady's maid. But it is one of the saddest things about ro- mance that a tight shoe or an empty com- missary or an aching tooth will make a tem- porary heretic of any Cupid-worshiper. And Thomas's physical troubles were not few. Therefore, his soul was less vexed with thoughts of his lost lady's maid than it was by the fancied presence of certain non-exist- ent things that his racked nerves almost convinced him were flying, dancing, crawl- ing, and wriggling on the asphalt and in the air above and around the dismal campus of the Bed Line army. Nearly four weeks of straight whisky and a diet limited to crackers, bologna, and pickles often guarantees a psy- cho-zoological sequel. Thus desperate, freez- ing, angry, beset by phantoms as he was, he felt the need of human sympathy and intercourse. The Bed Liner standing at his right was a young man of about his own age, shabby but neat. “What's the diagnosis of your case, Fred- dy?” asked Thomas, with the freemasonic familiarity of the damned—“Booze? That's mine. You don't look like a panhandler. Neither am I. A month ago I was pushing the lines over the backs of the finest team of Percheron buffaloes that ever made their mile down Fifth Avenue in 2.85. And look at me now! Say; how do you come to be at this bed bargain-counter rummage sale?” The other young man seemed to welcome the advances of the airy ex-coachman. "No," said he, "mine isn't exactly a case of drink. Unless we allow that. Cupid is a bartender. I married unwisely, according to the opinion of my unforgiving relatives. I've been out of work for a year because I don't know how to work; and I've been sick in Bellevue and other hospitals four months. My wife and kid had to go back to her mother. I was turned out of the hospital yesterday. And I haven't a cent. That's my tale of woe.” “Tough luck," said Thomas. “A man alone can pull through all right. But I hate to see the women and kids get the worst of it.” Just then there hummed up Fifth Avenue a motor car so splendid, so red, so smoothly running, so craftily demolishing the speed regulations that it drew the attention even of the listless Bed Liners. Suspended and pinioned on its left side was an extra tire. When opposite the unfortunate company the fastenings of this tire became loosed. It fell to the asphalt, bounded and rolled rapidly in the wake of the flying car. Thomas McQuade, scenting an opportu- nity, darted from his place among the Preach- Rolan B'GEE!" MUTTERED THOMAS, " THIS LISTENS LIKE A SPOOK SHOP." The Fifth Wheel 195 er's goats. In thirty seconds he had caught Chaldean Chiroscope has availed. Gould it the rolling tire swung it over his shoulder, be possible?” and was trotting smartly after the car. On T hen he addressed less mysterious words both sides of the avenue people were shout- to the waiting and hopeful Thomas. ing whistling, and waving canes at the red “Sir, I thank you for your kind rescue of car, pointing to the enterprising Thomas my tire. And I would ask you, if I may, coming up with the lost tire. a question. Do you know the family of One dollar, Thomas had estimated, was Van Smuythes living in Washington Square the smallest guerdon that so grand an auto- North?” "MADAM," SAID THE PROFESSOR, "WE HAVE DISCOVERED THE TRUE PSYCHIC ROUTE." mobilist could offer for the service he had “Oughtn't I to?" replied Thomas. “I rendered, and save his pride. lived there. Wish I did yet.” Two blocks away the car had stopped. The sealskinned gentleman opened a door There was a little, brown, muffled chauffeur of the car. driving and an imposing gentleman wearing “Step in, please," he said. “You have a magnificent sealskin coat and a silk hat on been expected." a rear seat. Thomas MEQuade obeyed with surprise Thomas proffered the captured tire with but without hesitation. A seat in a motor his best ex-coachman manner and a look in car seemed better than standing room in the the brighter of his reddened eves that was Bed Line. But after the lap-robe had been meant to be suggestive to the extent of a sil- tucked about him and the auto had sped on ver coin or two and receptive up to higher its course, the peculiarity of the invitation denominations. lingered in his mind. But the look was not so construed. The “Maybe the guy hasn't got any change,” sealskinned gentleman received the tire, was his diagnosis. “Lots of these swell placed it inside the car, gazed intently at the rounders don't lug about any ready money. ex-coachman, and muttered to himself in- Guess he'll dump me out when he gets to scrutable words. some joint where he can get cash on his mug. “Strange-strange!” said he. “Once or Anyhow, it's a cinch that I've got that open- twice even I, myself, have fancied that the air bed convention beat to a finish." 196 Everybody's Magazine guy." Submerged in his greatcoat, the mysteri- about. · Wonder what became of the furry ous automobilist seemed, himself, to marvel at the surprises of life. “Wonderful! amaz Suddenly a stuffed owl that stood on an ing! strange!” he repeated to himself con- ebony perch near the illuminated globe slowly stantly. raised his wings and emitted from his eyes When the car had well entered the cross- a brilliant electric glow. town Seventies it swung eastward a half block With a fright-born imprecation, Thomas and stopped before a row of high-stooped seized a bronze statuette of Hebe from a cab- brownstone-front houses. inet near by and hurled it with all his might “Be kind enough to enter my house with at the terrifying and impossible fowl. The me," said the sealskinned gentleman when owl and his perch went over with a crash. they had alighted. “He's going to dig up, With the sound there was a click, and the sure,” reflected Thomas, following him in room was flooded with light from a dozen side. frosted globes along the walls and ceiling. There was a dim light in the hall. His The gold portières parted and closed, and host conducted him through a door to the the mysterious automobilist entered the left, closing it after him and leaving them in room. He was tall and wore evening dress absolute darkness. Suddenly a luminous of perfect cut and accurate taste. A Van- globe, strangely decorated, shone faintly in dyke beard of glossy, golden brown, rather the center of an immense room that seemed long and wavy hair, smoothly parted, and to Thomas more splendidly appointed than large, magnetic, orientally occult eyes gave any he had ever seen him a most impres- on the stage or read of sive and striking ap- · in fairy stories. pearance. If you can The walls were hid- conceive a Russian den by gorgeous red Grand Duke in a hangings embroidered Rajah's throne - room with fantastic gold fig- advancing to greet a ures. At the rear end visiting Emperor, you of the room were will gather something draped portières of dull of the majesty of his gold spangled with sil- manner. But Thomas ver crescents and stars. McQuade was too near The furniture was of his d t's to be mind- the costliest and rarest ful of his p's and q's. styles. The ex-coach- When he viewed this man's feet sank into silken, polished, and rugs as fleecy and deep somewhat terrifying as snowdrifts. There host he thought vague- were three or four ly of dentists. oddly shaped stands “Say, doc," said he or tables covered resentfully, “that's a with black velvet dra- hot bird you keep on pery. tap. I hope I didn't : Thomas McQuade break anything. But took in the splendors I've nearly got the wil- of this palatial apart- liwalloos, and when ment with one eye. he threw them 32- With the other he candle-power lamps of looked for his impos- his on me, I took a ing conductor—to find snap-shot at him with that he had disap REDUCED TO THE GRIMY RANKS OF THE ONE that little brass Flat- peared. NIGHT BED SEEKERS. iron Girl that stood on “B'gee!” muttered the sideboard.” Thomas, “this listens like a spook shop. “That is merely a mechanical toy,” said Shouldn't wonder if it ain't one of these the gentleman with a wave of his hand. Moravian Nights' adventures that you read “May I ask you to be seated while I explain : The Fifth Wheel 197 why I brought you to cuits and a glass of my house. Perhaps miraculous wine; and you would not under- Thomas felt the glam- stand nor be in sym- our of Arabia envelop pathy with the psy- him. Thus half an chological prompting hour sped quickly; that caused me to do and then the honk of so. So I will come to the returned motor car the point at once by at the door suddenly venturing to refer to drew the Grand Duke your admission that to his feet, with an- you know the Van other soft petition for Smuythe family, of a brief absence. Washington Square Two women, well North.” muffled against the “Any silver miss- cold, were admitted at ing?" asked Thomas the front door and tartly. “Any joolry suavely conducted by displaced? Of course the master of the house I know 'em. Any of down the hall through the old ladies' sun- another door to the shades disappeared ? left and into a smaller Well, I know 'em. room, which was And then what?" screened and segre- The Grand Duke gated from the larger rubbed his white front room by heavy hands together softly. double portières. Here “Wonderful!” he the furnishings were murmured. “Wonder- even more elegant and ful! Shall I come to exquisitely tasteful believe in the Chal- than in the other. On dean Chiroscope my- a gold-inlaid rosewood self? Let me assure the busiester table were scattered you,” he continued, A STURDY GIRL WITH WIND-TOSSED DRAPERY. sheets of white paper "that there is nothing and a queer, triangu- for you to fear. Instead, I think I can lar instrument or toy, apparently of gold, promise you that very good fortune awaits standing on little wheels. you. We will see." The taller woman threw back her black “Do they want me back?" asked Thomas, veil and loosened her cloak. She was fifty, with something of his old professional pride with a wrinkled and sad face. The other, in his voice. “I'll promise to cut out the young and plump, took a chair a little dis- booze and do the right thing if they'll try me tance away and to the rear as a servant or an again. But how did you get wise, doc? attendant might have done. B’gee, it's the swellest employment agency “You sent for me, Professor Cherubusco," I was ever in, with its flashlight owls and so said the elder woman, wearily. “I hope you forth.” have something more definite than usual to With an indulgent smile the gracious host say. I've about lost the little faith I had in begged to be excused for two minutes. He your art. I would not have responded to went out to the sidewalk and gave an order your call this evening if my sister had not to the chauffeur, who still waited with the insisted upon it.” car. Returning to the mysterious apartment, “Madam,” said the professor, with his he sat by his guest and began to entertain princeliest smile, “the true Art cannot fail. him so well by his witty and genial converse To find the true psychic and potential branch that the poor Bed Liner almost forgot the sometimes requires time. We have not suc- cold streets from which he had been so re- ceeded, I admit, with the cards, the crystal, cently and so singularly rescued. A servant the stars, the magic formula of Zarazin, nor brought some tender cold fowl and tea bis- the Oracle of Po. But we have at last dis- 198 Everybody's Magazine covered the true psychic route. The Chal- “May I ask what your name is?” he said dean Chiroscope has been successful in our shortly. search.” “You've been looking for me," said The professor's voice had a ring that Thomas, “and don't know my name? seemed to proclaim his belief in his own You're a funny kind of sleuth. You must be words. The elderly lady looked at him with one of the Central Office gumshoers. I'm a little more interest. Thomas McQuade, of course; and I've been “Why, there was no sense in those words chauffeur of the Van Smuythe elephant team that it wrote with my hands on it,” she said. for a year. They fired me a month ago for “What do you mean?” -well, doc, you saw what I did to your old “The words were these," said Professor owl. I went broke on booze, and when I Cherubusco, rising to his full magnificent saw the tire drop off your whiz wagon I was height: “'By the fifth wheel of the chariot he standing in that squad of hoboes at the shall come.' " Worth monument waiting for a free bed. “I haven't seen many chariots,” said the Now, what's the prize for the best answer to lady, “but I never saw one with five wheels.” all this?” "Progress,” said the professor—"progress To his intense surprise Thomas felt him- in science and mechanics has accomplished self lifted by the collar and dragged, without it-though, to be exact, we may speak of it a word of explanation, to the front door. only as an extra tire. Progress in occult art This was opened, and he was kicked forcibly has advanced in proportion. Madam, I re- down the steps with one heavy, disillusion- peat that the Chaldean Chiroscope has suc- izing, humiliating impact of the stupendous ceeded. I can not only answer the question Arabian's shoe. that you have propounded, but I can pro As soon as the ex-coachman had recovered duce before your eyes the proof thereof." his feet and his wits he hastened as fast as he And now the lady was disturbed both in could eastward toward Broadway. her disbelief and in her poise. “Crazy guy," was his estimate of the mys- “O professor!” she cried anxiously - terious automobilist. “Just wanted to have “When?—where? Has he been found? Do some fun kiddin', I guess. He might have not keep me in suspense.” dug up a dollar, anyhow. Now I've got to “I beg you will excuse me for a very few hurry up and get back to that gang of bum minutes," said Professor Cherubusco, “and bed hunters before they all get preached to I think I can demonstrate to you the efficacy sleep.” of the true Art.” When Thomas reached the end of his two- Thomas was contentedly munching the mile walk he found the ranks of the homeless last crumbs of the bread and fowl when the reduced to a squad of perhaps eight or ten. enchanter appeared suddenly at his side. He took the proper place of a newcomer at “Are you willing to return to your old the left end of the rear rank. In the file in home if you are assured of a welcome and front of him was the young man who had restoration to favor?” he asked, with his spoken to him of hospitals and something courteous, royal smile. of a wife and child. “Do I look bug-house?"answered Thomas. “Sorry to see you back again,” said the “Enough of the footback life for me. But young man, turning to speak to him. “I hoped will they have me again? The old lady is you had struck something better than this.” as fixed in her ways as a nut on a new “Me?” said Thomas. “Oh, I just took axle." a run around the block to keep warm! I see “My dear young man,” said the other, the public ain't lending to the Lord very fast “she has been searching for you everywhere.” to-night.” “Great!” said Thomas. “I'm on the job. “In this kind of weather," said the young That team of dropsical dromedaries they call man, “charity avails itself of the proverb, horses is a handicap for a first-class coach- and both begins and ends at home.” man like myself; but I'll take the job back, And now the Preacher and his vehement sure, doc. They're good people to be with.” lieutenant struck up a last hymn of petition And now a change came o'er the suave to Providence and man. Those of the Bed countenance of the Caliph of Bagdad. He Liners whose windpipes still registered above looked keenly and suspiciously at the ex- 32°, hopelessly and tunelessly joined in. coachman. In the middle of the second verse Thomas "O MR. WALTER :- AND THE MISSIS IIUNTING HIGH AND LOW FOR YOU!" saw a sturdy girl with wind-tossed drapery without any singing and preaching for a battling against the breeze and coming nightcap, either.” straight toward him from the opposite side- “Listen, you big fool. The Missis sai's walk. “Annie!” he yelled, and ran toward her. she'll take you back. I begged her to. But “You fool, you fool!” she cried, weeping you must behave. And you can go up to and laughing, and hanging upon his neck, the house to-night; and your old room over “why did you do it?” the stable is ready." “The Stuff,” explained Thomas briefly. “Great!” said Thomas earnestly. “You “You know. But subsequently nit. Not a are It, Annie. But when did these stunts drop.” He led her to the curb. “How did happen?” you happen to see me?” “To-night at Professor Cherubusco's. He "I came to find you,” said Annie, holding sent his automobile for the Missis, and she tight to his sleeve. “Oh, you big fool! took me along. I've been there with her Professor Cherubusco told us that we might before.” find you here.” “What's the professor's line?” “Professor Ch- Don't know the guy. "He's a clearvoyant and a witch. The What saloon does he work in?”. Missis consults him. He knows everything. “He's a clearvoyant, Thomas; the greatest But he hasn't done the Missis any good yet, in the world. He found you with the Chal- though she's paid him hundreds of dollars. dean telescope, he said.” But he told us that the stars told him we “He's a liar," said Thomas. "I never could find you here." had it. He never saw me have anybody's “What's the old lady want this cherry- telescope.” buster to do?” “And he said you came in a chariot with “That's a family secret,” said Annie. five wheels, or something." “And now you've asked enough questions. “Annie,” said Thomas solicitously, "you're Come on home, you big fool.” giving me the wheels now. If I had a chariot They had moved but a little way up the I'd have gone to bed in it long ago. And street when Thomas stopped. 199 200 Everybody's Magazine “Got any dough with you, Annie?” he asked. Annie looked at him sharply. “Oh, I know what that look means," said Thomas. “You're wrong. Not another drop. But there's a guy that was standing next to me in the bed line over there that's in a bad shape. He's the right kind, and he's got wives or kids or something, and he's on the sick list. No booze. If you could dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed I'd like it.” Annie's fingers began to wiggle in her purse. “Sure, I've got money," said she. “Lots of it. Twelve dollars.” And then she added, with woman's ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence: “Bring him here and let me see him first.” Thomas went on his mission. The wan Bed Liner came readily enough. As the two drew near, Annie looked up from her purse and screamed: “Mr. Walter - Oh-Mr. Walter!” “Is that you, Annie?" said the young man weakly. “O Mr. Walter!—and the Missis hunting high and low for you!” “Does mother want to see me?” he asked, with a flush coming out on his pale cheek. “She's been hunting for you high and low. Sure, she wants to see you. She wants you to come home. She's tried police and morgues and lawyers and advertising and detectives and rewards and everything. And then she took up clearvoyants. You'll go right home, won't you, Mr. Walter?” “Gladly, if she wants me," said the young man. “Three years is a long time. I sup- pose I'll have to walk up, though, unless the street cars are giving free rides. I used to walk and beat that old plug team of bays we used to drive to the carriage. Have they got them yet?” “They have,” said Thomas, feelingly. “And they'll have 'em ten years from now. The life of the royal elephantibus truck- horseibus is one hundred and forty-nine years. I'm the coachman. Just got my re- appointment five minutes ago. Let's all ride up in a surface car-that is-er-if Annie will pay the fares.” On the Broadway car Annie handed each one of the prodigals a nickel to pay the conductor. “Seems to me you are mighty reckless the way you throw large sums of money around," said Thomas sarcastically. “In that purse,” said Annie decidedly, “is exactly $11.85. I shall take every cent of it to-morrow and give it to Professor Cher- ubusco, the greatest man in the world.” “Well,” said Thomas, “I guess he must be a pretty fly guy to pipe off things the way he does. I'm glad his spooks told him where you could find me. If you'll give me his address, some day I'll go up there, myself, and shake his hand.” Presently Thomas moved tentatively in his seat, and thoughtfully felt an abrasion or two on his knees and elbows. “Say, Annie,” said he confidentially, “may- be it's one of the last dreams of the booze, but I've a kind of a recollection of rid- ing in an automobile with a swell guy that took me to a house full of eagles and arc lights. He fed me on biscuits and hot air, and then kicked me down the front steps. If it was the d t's, why am I so sore?” “Shut up, you fool,” said Annie. “If I could find that funny guy's house,” said Thomas, in conclusion, "I'd go up there some day and punch his nose for him." Within This Heart of Mine By JAMES E. RICHARDSON TITHIN this heart of mine a garden lies,-a sere And sunless close Wherein from year to year No blossom is of lily pale and tall, sweet rose Or violet mere; But yet where one like me may grieve an hour, and pray, Perhaps, for kinder dav; Or in some wakeful tide Keep vigil 'twixt the sunset red and dawnlight gray, And dream of years forgotten, and abide. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen? By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of "Soldiers of the Common Good" EDITOR'S NOTE.—Habitually we think of this as the most prosperous of nations. It has the greatest individual fortune; it has the largest number of great fortunes. Here in the lifetime of a generation men have attained to wealth so great that its potentiality is almost incalculable. All this we commonly look upon as part of our prosperity. Is it really so ? Do these fortunes represent in any way a general welfare ? Are they the outgrowth of splendid enterprise honorably managed, of great productive industry, of unprecedented commercial expansion ? Or are they born of trickery, of financial piracy, of gambling with marked cards, of the union of greed and dirty politics for the exploitation of public utilities, of vast overcapi- talization at the expense of our national good name and our financial stability? The follow- ing is the first of a series of articles in which Mr. Russell will relate the origins of some of these fortunes. He will deal with them fairly and impartially, but he will show how thin is the veneer of respectability that covers some vast and illegitimate commercial achievements. CHAPTER I upon another mile after mile in the business region-in all the world where can you find an GOLDEN TIDES ABOUT THE GOLDEN CITY equal expression of power and energy? And the palaces grouped about the park-how TERE, at the gateway of a world, sits the plainly they speak of the ceaseless tide of gold 1 imperial city of New York, and about that sweeps into this unique habitat of men! her and over her is piled such wealth as No, not elsewhere can you find such men have never before dreamed of. wealth; in few places such tremendous How wonderful it all is! Daily in this and thought-compelling contrasts. How richest of cities you can see the golden strange to go from upper Fifth Avenue flood rising and never ebbing. So much and stand before that block in Orchard wealth, so much luxury, such a bewilder- Street that is the most densely populated ing display, such a concentration of the spot on this earth! The utmost ex- power for which money is only a symbol tremes of attainable magnificence and has not been known in the records of endurable misery seem bent around to the race. No other men have been so touch within this marvelous city. rich as some New York men; so many If the figures and analyses of the so- rich men have not gathered in another ciologists hold true here are 10,000 per- place. With pride and awe we count sons that are rich, 500,000 that are well- here one man whose wealth is reputed to-do, 1,500,000 that are poor, 2,000,000 to be one thousand million dollars, five that are very poor. Take, then, these men whose wealth is estimated at more 3,500,000 of the poor and very poor. than three hundred millions each, ten How comes it that the golden flood men whose wealth is reported to be one misses them? Here it runs all about hundred millions each, four thousand them, so deep and wide a current that men whose wealth is computed at one the imperial city wantons in it and million or more each. In face of these wastes it and plays with it. And here stupendous totals the mind staggers and are 2,000,000 that seem to have little or hardly apprehends the significance of none of it. Why so little? Or why the figures; but everywhere the eye can none? The fact is apparent enough. see the physical and enduring monu- Do but walk through the district east of ments of existing conditions. Those the Bowery and south of Twenty-third strange gigantic structures, massed one Street; you shall have evidence convinc- 201 202 Everybody's Magazine ing. Go into some of the courts and rear tene- economies of the wife, and all they have to- ments in the region, let us say, between the gether, are worth $1,639. He has an annual two bridge terminals. The filthy and vilely salary, perhaps $2,000, the good man. From over-crowded dwellings, the poisoned air, the that in a city where the cost of living is greater than in any other city of men, he must feed and clothe the family, pay his rent (which shows steadily a tendency to increase), maintain his life insurance, if he be prudent, and lay by for the day when he shall be no longer able to earn. And his rent alone is one-fourth or more of his income. How does life go in that little flat? From where he stands and toils, if he looks up to no more than a ledge of security the distance seems impossible; up to a competence, over- whelming; to wealth, a mere dream. Yet men have traversed it; he knows that. By what incomprehensible genius, by what great gifts of mind wholly distinguish- ing them from other men, by what totally differing structure of brain cells have they achieved it? He knows that in his country opportunity must be for all men equal. Often he heard it declared to be thus equal when he was a THOMAS FORTUNE RYAN. boy and went to Fourth of July meetings in the coun- moldy dampness of ancient and dark passage- try; often he has read the same statement ways, the malarial areas, the ragged crowds, since. So that the trouble with him is in the ill-developed children-you know all these himself. Clearly he lacks the mental capacity things well if you have ever strayed into that to be rich. noisome territory. Plainly, no golden flood And he finds that this is the opinion of the touches these sodden and unclean shores. world also. He finds that in the opinion of And how is it with the 1,500,000 of the next mankind the inequality between his state and above stratum, upon whom is laid a need only the state of the 10,000, and the still more ter- less harsh? In thousands of modest flats in rible contrast between the 10,000 and the the better regions dwell these families that 2,000,000 are perfectly explained, perfectly win larger incomes, the families of the em- justified, perfectly established as eternally ployed men, the clerks, the salesmen, the right, reasonable and moral, by this difference regulars and non-commissioned officers in in brain cells. the army of industry. The average wealth M oreover, he learns that there is another among these, we are told, is $1,639. How reason. The men that are deepest in the far that bears us from the plashings of the stream are, by common report, further en- golden stream! The furniture in the little dowed than with merely this rare wondrous flat and the savings of the good man and the gift of ability. They have done something. From stereograph. Copyright, 1007, by Underwood & Underwood, New York. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 203 These are the men upon whom rests the foun- dations of prosperity. Like an inverted pyramid, the 500,000, the 1,500,000 and the 2,000,000 repose upon the things done by the 10,000. Thus, by the gift of this ability that so sets them apart and marks them from other men, they have developed the railroads, built the factories, established the commerce, cre- ated the industries of the land. Upon these railroads, factories, commerce, industries, de- pend the employment and therefore the lives of the 1,500,000 that have little ability and of the 2,000,000 that have none. Therefore, on all grounds of the strictest moral principle, the 10,000 that are blessed with ability are en- titled to all else they have possessed them- selves of. I am a plain man from the West and I have in the golden imperial city a friend among the 1,500,000 of the little able, and he takes me forth to view the wonders of the vast human hive about us. We see very many things that instruct my ungifted mind. We tra- verse these miles of gigantic buildings, and I glimpse a little of the incalculable, indomi- table, abnormal force that they represent; and then he takes me to view the region where dwell the 4,000 men that control this force. It is all very wonderful. The great white gleaming palaces remind me of the pictures I have seen of stately structures in European capitals. Here is a house with a broad driveway sweeping clear to the front door and with no other exit, as if the inmates never walk when they go abroad. Under a kind of beautiful canopy, all glass and bronze-like metal, a carriage is waiting, a great shining chariot, with much silver and crystal, very handsome. The driver has a sort of uniform with a dark green coat and very big silver buttons and a high silk hat with something on it and very white trousers that look as if they were made of some kind of white leather, and high boots with yellow tops; and by the carriage door is another man dressed exactly like the driver. We pass another house, very large and commanding, with a little patch of ground about it and a very high steel fence on all sides. We pass other magnificent houses, stone, of an even brown color, very pleasing; enormous houses of a solid and serious archi- tecture. Then we come to large and beau- "IT SEEMS TO ME TYPICAL OF THE WEALTH AND GREATNESS OF MY COUNTRY." 204 Everybody's Magazine tiful buildings that are pointed out to me as And the next house is the house of a man the homes of different clubs of successful men; that developed the coal industry. He im- and again to many others, almost or quite as proved and cheapened coal production, he large, that are merely residences. I see innu- made fuel cheaper in the world, he lessened merable automobiles; everybody in this smil- the burden of the ungifted. By his ability, ing and prosperous region seems to have an energy, and foresight he built a great and use- automobile. I am told that many of the resi- ful business; he served society well, and by dents have a dozen automobiles apiece, dif- the rules of the war game this is his reward. ferent styles for different occasions. And the next house is the house of a man There are no cheap nor mean nor repulsive- that developed a great manufacturing enter- looking houses here, nor ill-fed people, but all prise. By his ability, energy, and foresight things betoken comfort and prosperity. The he constructed a system whereby something sidewalks are never crowded, there is plenty should be supplied that all men needed- of air and sunlight, the people are always well shoes, perhaps, or hats. He made these dressed and look gentle and happy. The sun things cheap and plentiful for all mankind, shines and the rows of palaces gleam in the he was of use to society, and this is his re- keen light. Across the street is the park and ward. that is beautiful too: the white houses make With pleasure I reflect upon all these an agreeable contrast against all that mass of things: they prove again the greatness of my vivid green. I look at the whole extraordi- country and the triumph of that free oppor- nary spectacle and it seems to me typical of tunity of which we have ever been proud. the wealth and the greatness of my country. True, I cannot see exactly wherein my un- I say to myself that the men that built all gifted friend at my side has much share in these beautiful houses were the gifted gen- this glorious opportunity. True, it appears erals on the commercial battlefield, and their certain that all his life he will struggle du- dwellings are emblematical of their victories, biously for each day's bread and be pursued as of old time men used to win suits of armor by the specters of rent and butchers' bills. in the tourney. True, we have jour- Doubtless, I say, in neyed up - town by the first house lives a way of Attorney great merchant. By Street and Columbia his ability, energy, Street and Avenue B, and foresight he built and while I rejoice a great business, he at the scene now be- brought together pro- fore me, there is a ducer and consumer, memory I could well he established a great spare of scenes lately mart, he supplied a passed, and a traitor- want of society. By ous suggestion that the rules of the war the rewards are dis- game and of our civ- proportionate. But ilization this is his here they are admi- reward. rable and rich, and And the next house that is the true belongs to a man that American way, to developed the rail- give with liberal road service of the hand. Indeed, how United States; he typically American it built new lines and all is! These men improved old. By his were the free archi- ability, energy, and tects of their own foresight he made fortunes. Doubtless transportation cheap most of them began and easy. He served poor; now they are society well, and bythe rich. This that they rules of the war game have, they earned. this is his reward. THOMAS F. RYAN'S RESIDENCE AT 60 FIFTH AVENUE. How admirable was THE HOMES OF DIFFERENT CLUBS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN. the wisdom of the forefathers that established And the man that lives in the second house here the broad and unrestricted fields that did not help to develop the railroad system, he invite and encourage gifted men! How su- has built no lines nor extended nor improved perior to anything known abroad are these them, though he owns many railroads; he has conditions of opportunity and reward! in no wise facilitated transportation, but only So I think, with a sense of profound grati- made it difficult. tude that I am of this country that secures And the man that lives in the third house these blessings. had nothing to do with developing the coal But am I right? industry. Coal mines he owns, many of them, Hardly. If I remain long enough in New but he has never dreamed of extending them York and gain instruction in things as they for the general good nor of making them use- really are, I shall learn, perhaps to my dis- ful to society. He has not made coal cheaper may, that not one of the beautiful houses I but dearer; he has not served society, he has have been admiring represents a fortune injured it. gained in any such way as I have fondly And the man that lives in the fourth house supposed. has built no great manufacturing enterprise, The proprietor of the first house was not a he has had nothing to do with any system great merchant: he established no mart, he whereby anything is supplied that men need. brought together no producer and consumer, He owns great manufactories, but their prod- he assisted in no way to supply any demand. uct he has not made cheaper but dearer. He Wealth he has in huge superfluity, wealth that has not helped men to supply their needs, but increases upon him until he knows not what only hindered them. to do with it; but not a dollar of it represents Then how were these vast fortunes ac- any service done nor any want supplied. quired? By what means were these white 205 CHO TIIE ROWS OF PALACES GLEAM IN THE KEEN LIGHT ACROSS THE STREET IS THE PARK: THE WHITE HOUSES MAKE AN AGREEABLE CONTRAST AGAINST ALL THAT MASS OF VIVID GREEN. 206 Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 207 palaces secured? What does this wealth rep- But surely, you say, this is very exceptional; resent? How were the ability, energy, and men do not often make money in this way; foresight manifested? In just what way have the loud clamor of denunciation that followed the gifted proved their different molding from this particular revelation showed how very the ungifted? rare such achievements must be. One of the heroes of this field, a mighty Rare? I say, not at all; and nothing is general of these battles, one covered with the stranger than that there should have been any glory of innumerable victories, one whose denunciation on this occasion. It reminds gifts are deemed exceptional, whose ability, one of what Macaulay said about the British energy, and foresight all men admit, has lately public in one of its periodical spasms of virtue. furnished far better answers to these questions Rare, are they? Dear reader, some of the than any I can hit upon, and furnished them great, the very great fortunes of New York under oath. He sat one day on the witness City have been the accumulation of genera- stand while a patient inquisitor drew from tions through the gradual increase in the value him, reluctant word by word, the full story of of real estate; some have been inherited. one of these great fortunes in the making, one These may be omitted from the present con- of these white palaces in the building. It ap sideration. Aside from these all the stupen- peared, to give but one chapter of his narra dous fortunes quickly acquired have been tive, that with three other men he had secured gained in some such way as this captain of in- control of a certain railroad: that thereupon dustry described on the witness stand; in some they had arbitrarily increased the capitaliza- such way because there is no other way in tion of that railroad from $39,000,000 to which they can be gained. Nor, if convention $122,000,000; that at be a basis of morals, the price of 65, which does this way of gain- arbitrarily they had ing them involve re- made, they had sold proach, for we have the added securities much more than con- to themselves; that doned it: we have these securities thus warmly lauded its re- acquired they had sults and agreed that immediately resold to the men that practise the public at go to it are excellent men 96; and that from and model citizens, these operations they and doubtless it has had made a net profit been viewed abroad of $23,000,000. as characteristic of Itappeared further our financial opera- that in all these trans- tions. actions these gifted Without prejudice men had violated the and merely as illus- laws and the consti- trations of these mat- tution of the State in ters and as examples which the railroad of the methods by was situated; that which ability therein their profits were ut- manifests itself I pur- terly illegal; that the pose here to state additional capitaliza- some of the memora- tion was not needed ble achievements in for any purpose of high finance of that developing, extend- group of gifted men ing, or improving the that formerly cen- railroad; that it had tered around William no significance to the C. Whitney, and of property except as an whom the colossus enormous burden and master mind now that for years to come appears in Thomas the public must bear. LOOKING DOWN MOTT STREET FROM GRAND. Fortune Ryan. 208 Everybody's Magazine CHAPTER II Congo, in London and San Francisco, from the northern limits of civilized Canada to and THE BEGINNINGS OF A GREAT FORTUNE beyond Mexico, men are employed by him and are subject to his will; he says to them, HERE is a man whose career has been the Do this, and they do it. On the affairs of the romance of success, who has climbed to the nation he exercises a potent and constant in- heights of wealth and fluence. His own at- almost imperial power, torney is Secretary of a king of finance, a State; he has his own Inarvel of enterprise and men in the Senate and commercial wisdom. He the House of Repre- began poor, he is very sentatives; he has his rich; he began obscure, own way about Panama he is the partner of a Canal contracts. He can king and the confidant sway the actions, affect of rulers; he was a servi- the voting, and lead the tor at a pittance, he is thinking of many thou- the employer of millions; sand men. He selects he was an obscure and candidates for partisan nameless molecule in nomination; men of his the human tide, now he choosing sit in high dictates legislation and places in. local and other controls policies, he com- governments. Until very mands enormous enter- lately he was a director prises, he is known or trustee in thirty-two about the world, he is to great corporations. He the history of commerce owns life insurance as a famous strategist is companies, banks, trust to the history of war. companies, railroads, Surely this is a won- mines, gas companies, derful story. How ad- electric light companies, mirably it shows the traction companies; he possibilities of that free owns the Tobacco and unhampered oppor- Trust, he owns the tunity of which we have Seaboard Air Line. On just spoken! The poor the chessboard of finance boy starting upon his he makes strange, secret, career with no help but and astounding moves, his own will and his two and wins. Nothing im- hands, with no advan- portant can now be done tage but the free field in that game without before him; and do but consulting him. observe the fortune, esti- He lives most quietly mated at hundreds of in a great unpretentious millions of dollars, the house at No. 60 Fifth endless range of profit- Avenue. In the mad able investments, the rush to shower and huge industries that are splash the golden flood now his! With no ex- he has no interest. His GLEAMING PALACES REMIND ME OF PICTURI:S OR travagance we may STATELY STRUCTURES IN EUROPEAN CAPITALS. Tie is business. ne goes life is business. He goes think that scarcely an- to his office early, he re- other man in the commercial world stands mains late; he works in his study at night. A in a position so commanding. His mind tall, erect, powerfully built man, in the best of determines upon a certain line of action, his strength; a very silent man, with no confi- and the next day the poor cigar dealer in dants nor close associates; a secretive man of Australia or the cabinet of Belgium feels whose plans and intentions nothing is sur- the effects thereof. In Kentucky and on the mised until they are recorded in events; a Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 209 cool and self-mastered man that never says a Do not smile. It is all sober earnest and word in heat nor does an act without consid- part of the record of a sober, earnest life. eration-Wall Street fears him and puzzles The errand boy labors early and late at $3 a over him, but never understands him. He week. Presently he becomes a salesman. has a great square jaw and face as relentless Then he is taken into partnership. Event- as an axe and yet his characteristic policy is to ually he marries the proprietor's daughter. win by indirection. With hands and arms It is the very apotheosis of commercial ro- and skill to wield a broadsword his fancy is mance. for the finest rapier. No man has more cau- Meantime, he had been looking far beyond tion; no man will thrust more boldly when Baltimore and the dry-goods business. From the time comes, and for skill in extricating the beginning he had made up his mind to himself from a threatened position he has no be, if possible, the richest man of his times. equal in the Wall Street game. Upon that determination the wide, square, He gives with liberal hand to church and bulldog jaws came down like a clamp. It school; his skill, tact, and measureless success was the time of Jay Gould and Erie, of Jim are praised of all men. Newspapers pave his Fisk and the first Vanderbilt. The road to way with laudations. His word has bound fortune was a turnpike to Wall Street. His less weight; with a sentence he stays a panic employer was interested in some banking and and helps to restore confidence. brokerage firm in New York; the young man Is not this success indeed ? secured a transfer of his activities from Balti- Ah, yes; it is a marvelous story. Here was more to the golden city of his dreams. There the poor boy facing the world alone, and none we find him in a humble place as clerk or was poorer. The Ryans, an old family of Nel capper or runner or croupier for some respect- son County, Virginia, an old family of the able house in the Street, and his energy, tire- indomitable Scotch-Irish strain, had been ut- less industry, and profound interest in his terly ruined by the Civil War. The old work soon win him advancement. No firm estate swamped with debt; the wolf looking in can afford to overlook the worth of a youth at the window; the boy, sixteen or seventeen that does nothing but study and strive in his years old, left alone with his aged grand business. After a time he feels able to make mother; the problem of daily bread real and a start for himself. He becomes a partner uncompromising before them; all this sounds in a firm: Lee, Ryan & Warren. Then he like the first chapters of an old-time romance, marries. Soon afterward he buys a seat on and yet it is but a recital of biographical the Stock Exchange. facts. And there is more to come, as if culled Then came times bad for gambling--1874. deliberately from the roseate fiction of our Black Friday, the Jay Cooke smash and the youth. The poor boy, striving to battle with collapse of so many fair firms were only a few the depressing situation, wins his way to the months behind, and before was a long, dreary great city in this instance, Baltimore) to season of prostrate business, silent mills, and look for work. From one place after another unemployed hosts. Depreciated paper cur- he is turned coldly away. Still he persists. rency and inflated credit had done their worst. At last, almost at evening, he enters a dry. Under such conditions the public, having bit- goods store. The proprietor needs an errand ter memories and no money to lose, will have boy. He engages young Thomas, whose looks none of Wall Street, and the youthful capper please him, to go to work the next morning at finds but barren pickings. Yet young Mr. seven o'clock. Young Thomas takes off his Ryan, faring in a small, careful way through cap and hangs it on a peg. He says: those lean years, did well enough. He saw “If you please, sir, I would rather go to his little operations slowly grow and the tilth work now," and seizing a broom begins to thereof was the accumulations that were the sweep out. joy of life to him. Certain qualities com- Does it not sound like a page from the old mended him to men that sit in the high places Fourth Reader? about the Wall Street game. He was intelli- “What are you doing there, little boy?". gent, he understood the market, he moved asked the good banker, looking over the quickly—and he was silent, always; a grave, counter. self-contained, taciturn young man. That was “Picking up pins, sir,” said Henry. And a great matter; anything once committed to his on the last page he is taken into partnership keeping oxen and wain ropes could not drag and marries the banker's daughter. beyond those iron jaws. Gentlemen having 210 Everybody's Magazine delicate negotiations in finance found that Mr. those that having means used wealth to get Ryan was a good man to operate through. He more wealth for which they had no need. knew his business and he could be trusted im- So many long-forgotten chapters of history plicitly. He began to win attention and hang about these records! The old New commissions; and after a time he undertook York Cable Railroad, for instance-how some little things on his own account that many years have passed since we have heard resulted well, both in profits and reputation. a mention of that once menacing specter, or of He used to search out the properties that were Charles P. Shaw, the eccentric genius that so bad that they must needs be remade or created it and with it scared New York perish, and get in on the upward wave when from its rest? The thing actually had a the remaking began. He won no great sums, charter covering almost every down-town but was steadily getting closer to the leaders street in the city and extending north to that controlled millions and obtaining their Yonkers, all to be operated by steam cable. approval as a young man of the right Only one other man in New York had looked sort. so far ahead as Charles P. Shaw into the street One of these leaders was of a mind and railway possibilities and that was Mr. Whit- character unusual; the rest fade away into the ney. He had been Corporation Counsel of dull mists of commonplace. In a time that the city from 1875 to 1882, and among the has for its distinguishing trait the union of things he had learned while in office was a rotten business with rotten politics, William respect for the urban transportation business. C. Whitney was a conspicuously able financial He made up his mind then that he would get exploiter and a conspicuously able political into that business and be rich. Shaw and his manipulator. I suppose that without doubt associates were exploiting the proposed cable he had the best mind that ever engaged in road as a rival of the old Arcade scheme (of Wall Street affairs, and without doubt he was which a section was once constructed in lower equipped for better things than he achieved. Broadway), when Mr. Whitney forced his way He had a big doming head, not very broad into the concern. He needed somebody to but long and high, strange blue-gray eyes, assist him in certain lines of endeavor, and for very cold, very steady, and utterly fearless; a such labors chose Mr. Ryan, whom he made masterful and confident disposition; and a treasurer of the company. knowledge of, and I think contempt for, men, Mr. Ryan was at that time nearing middle beyond any other man I have known. He life and known among the discerning as one of was at will the most fascinating and polished the shrewdest and safest of the small opera- man of the world or the most overbearing and tors in the Street. He had no foolish pride intolerable bully. In his way he had extraor about accepting small orders nor about per- dinary mental capacity; his mind was an un forming duties not usually esteemed a part of resting engine, his ambition was inordinate, the brokerage business, provided the orders or and but for some providential tempering by the duties involved proper recompense and spendthrift and luxurious habits would have the good-will of those that it was well to know. made him monstrously rich. I need not pre Furthermore, some advantages lay in his com- tend that he had any overnice scruples about parative obscurity and his silence. He prac- methods. He could see a little farther than tised assiduously the scriptural injunction the grubbing moles about him, and discerning concerning the intercommunication of right an object he moved relentlessly toward it, and left hands, and even at that time no one sometimes trampling heads and sometimes ever knew what he was doing until it was mire and regarding neither. done. Hence he went upon any matter un- Therein lay for him the talisman of ability, remarked, and his noiseless and unobtrusive the badge that distinguished him from the presence drew none of the newspaper or other 500,000, from the 1,500,000, and from the attention that might be undesirable. 2,000,000. The divine gift had this sub- For years there had been talk of a street car stance and none other. Mr. Whitney dwelt line in Broadway below Union Square, but his days among the palaces; he was born to a the wise men of the city (of whom there was sense of superiority; he married wealth; the even in those days no lack )always proved con- burden of life was easy upon him. No one clusively that a street railroad in Broadway may say that the goad of poverty drove him to was utterly impossible because of the crowded climb from among the 2,000,000 or the 1,500,- traffic. Mr. Whitney and Mr. Jake Sharp ooo. But he was a conspicuous example of were among those that scorned the argu- Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 211 ments of the wise. Sharp was a heavy-jowled, After Mr. Whitney went to Washington the heavy-bearded and scowling man of a type whole scandal of the purchased aldermen now practically extinct, part bullying con- burst upon New York. The public was tractor, part rough politician, and part shrewd shocked at the revelations, many aldermen and unscrupulous schemer and manipulator. were indicted, many fled, three confessed, a It was a strange turn of fate that pitted this few were convicted. Sharp himself narrowly thick-skinned, crude, and violent person escaped Sing Sing. Ostensibly as an act of against the polished and courtly Whitney. righteous retribution upon all this shameful Sharp had long wanted the Broadway fran- misdoing the legislature was induced to the chise from Fifteenth Street to Bowling Green very unusual step of annulling the charter of for his Broadway Surface Railway Company, Sharp's company, which necessarily went into a concern with a merely paper existence; Mr. the hands of a receiver. The franchise was Whitney desired it for the Cable Railroad. still there and immensely valuable, but the Mr. Sharp won the prize-for $500,000 in company had no legal existence and the rail- bribes paid to the New York Board of Alder- road was operated by another concern. From men. The Cable Railroad is said to have this chaotic and (as you can readily under- made another offer, not quite so good. Mr. stand) much depreciated state it was rescued Sharp got his franchise and built his road when Mr. Daniel S. Lamont, acting for the practically in a night. He was a thick-headed Whitney - Widener - Elkins - Ryan syndicate, man of one idea, but he knew what an in- bought the property for $50,000. junction was and took no chances. The history of public utilities in the United This was in 1884. The next year Mr. States has always reeked with the corruption Whitney went to Washington as Secretary of of public officers, but it has few chapters the Navy in the first Cleveland cabinet, but he that equal the story of business politics in retained his notions about the street railroad the Broadway franchise deal. Previous to as a source of wealth. When, four years later, Sharp's victory the gift of the franchise lay in he returned to his active career in New York, the hands of the aldermen. Several com- it was to lay hands upon that very Broadway panies (one of them a mere blind for another) surface franchise that Sharp had wrenched composed of gentlemen of the most eminent from his grasp-so strangely do things come respectability, engaged in a furious compe- about in this world-and to get it for a small tition for the prize. The bidding rose and fraction of the sum Sharp paid. As he won rose until in the scramble bidders and bidden this long-coveted prize, he cemented likewise alike lost their heads. Truly it was a mad, the most remarkable combination that has mad race. On both sides all thought of the ever been known in our financial affairs. Mr. statutes was forgotten while the companies Whitney had closely observed the amazing bid against one another and the aldermen achievements (to be related later) of P. A. B. raised their prices. A more extraordinary Widener and William L. Elkins in the Phila- spectacle has not been seen in any legislative delphia traction field, and he rightly estimated body; a mania seized upon all persons con- these gentlemen as desirable partners in his cerned: there was scarcely any conceal- enterprise. With these he naturally associ- ment; you would have thought the selling ated Mr. Ryan. of votes was as legitimate as the selling of The syndicate thus formed endured for peanuts. many years, exercised almost boundless pow- At last one of the companies made a bid of er, came, as we shall see later, to deal in many $750,000, of which $250,000 was to be in things besides street railroads, in more than cash and $500,000 in stock. Sharp met this one way became historic, and made more with an offer of $500,000 in cash on the nail, money, more easily, more rapidly, and on and he won. The money was handed about smaller investments than any other associa- as if it had been buns. Very strange things tion of men ever formed in this world. were witnessed while the fit of dementia Of these great deeds we shall have to tell lasted. One alderman attempted to take by hereafter. For this present I want to go back force another alderman's share, and in the to the story of the Broadway franchise, be very aldermanic chamber, practically in the cause that contains matter highly edifying to public view, one that thought he had been all desirous of knowing the secrets of sudden overlooked assaulted the distributor of bribes wealth. and tried to strangle him. . “Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ?" will be continued in the September number. HE DELIVERED HIMSELF OF A FIERY BURST OF TEMPER. A Pyrrhic Victory By DOROTHY CANFIELD Illustrations by F. R. Gruger VOUNG Mrs. Macarren looked after her jangling conversation at breakfast, she heard Y husband's figure retreating stormily the clatter of hoofs, and her husband went down the hall, with so acute a perplexity in dashing past the window, his ruddy, handsome her mind that the desolate ache in her heart face gleaming with the exertion of holding in was for a moment deadened. She asked her- his spirited favorite, Spitfire. There was no self as tragically as brides have asked since the trace of the irritation in which he had pushed beginning of the world, what was the trouble away from the breakfast-table, delivered him- between her and her husband; but the fact self of a fiery burst of temper, and gone that there was no trouble at all was so patently stamping down the hall. Constance re- and bewilderingly plain to her that her mind flected bitterly that his horses and dogs knew whirled helplessly. Her husband was de- the trick of pleasing him better than his wife, votedly attached to her. In her most un- and turned again to the wearisome search happy moments she could not doubt his love, after her fault. nor think his passionate affection a whit less If she only knew what it was in her that so than on the day, now six months ago, when he rubbed him the wrong way, why it was that on married her. There was nothing in their life certain days, in spite of clumsy and well- to annoy nor trouble him. He delighted in the meant efforts, he could not contain his quick free out-of-door existence that the superin- irritation at everything she said and did tendence of their large estate gave him, and or did not say and do! She went over and they had plenty of money to humor his whim over the various phases of their life together for fast horses and fine dogs. Indeed, as she with the piteously scrutinizing eye of an un- stood miserably turning over in her mind their happy woman, in the attempt to see herself 212 A Pyrrhic Victory 213 from his standpoint. Was it that she was and returned again to the feeling that some- dull? But sometimes he seemed to resent her how she should be able to conquer the situa- high spirits. Was it that she was too gay? tion. She must conquer it or sink overwhelmed But on some days she had been horrified to by her misery. But since she could not at all find that her most subdued and heartfelt see what was the force against her, how could tenderness seemed unwelcome to him. No, she even set to work to prepare herself for the not unwelcome, only somehow not what he conflict? She never knew what it was that wanted then. Was it that she was irre- started Michael off on one of these day-long sponsive to his moods? But during these periods of sardonic dissatisfaction, and she miserable periods of friction and disagree- knew as little what it was that brought him ment, which were the more intolerable to her out of them, his mobile face alight with because they were slight in surface indica- an affection and gaiety that made her on tions, his mood seemed to be only anything his “good days" the most supremely happy that was not hers. of women. She could only thank Heaven The clock struck eleven heavily behind her blindly that the bad times were rare, pray and she realized with a start that she had not that they might be short, and enjoy to the moved from the chair into which she had highest pitch of intoxication her husband's sunk listlessly after breakfast. There was unrivaled charm when his mood was buoyant. indeed no reason why she should move. In Never once in all the expedients she had the expensive, well-appointed household she tried had she hit upon anything that seemed was like a guest at an infinitely comfortable to strike the right note. She told herself hotel, whose material wants were supplied humbly that the fault must be hers, that she by the pushing of a button. Accustomed to a must fail in some way; but she despaired of vague, wandering life of summer resorts and learning how to improve. Nothing she could visits and European travel with an adoring do was of any avail. aunt, the absence of household cares seemed Her maid came into the room, a discreet to her the natural condition of things; but of smile on her face. “Please, Mrs. Macarren,” late, going far afield she said, “Mr. Ma- in her search for ex- carren's old nurse planations, she had is down-stairs and wondered if both would like to see she and her hus- you. She's just band would not be passing through on happier if they had her way back to more to do. With a Ireland and wanted native energy and to see Mr. Macar- good sense wholly ren, but he's left undirected, she re- word he won't be flected that it was home till evening, not a healthy state and she must go on of things when she right after lunch- could sit from nine eon, and she said to eleven brooding she thought maybe undisturbed over you'd see her." the fact that every- Constance wel- thing at the table comed the break in had gone wrong, her vacant, listless and that every at- day. “Yes, I'll see tempt of hers at her; Mr. Macarren pacification had but will be sorry to miss acted as a greater her. She really irritant. brought him up un- But such their til he went away to life was; she had school. He's very the vaguest concep- fond of her.” tion of any other SHE COULD SIT FROM NINE TO ELEVEN The last words form of existence, BROODING UNDISTURBED. were lost in a rush 214 Everybody's Magazine upon her from the door. “Ah! sure I wasn't an' no mistake. I know all about it, bein' afther waitin' down-stairs all this time while afflicted with the warst set av thim that iver the swate craytur my darlin' Michael married mortal man had to put up with though ye'd was up-stairs. You dear! You dear! You're not think it to look at me. They was different purtier than he said-and he said all that wan from yours-mine was the kind that got tied language will hold. Here, now, kiss me in bow-knots. I spake of 'em as though I once an' I'll unloose me bonnet-strings and had thim no more, now since I'm a wid- stay wid ye a while, for a cozy talk from wan der so long, for what difference do nerves married woman to another. Go away, now, make if they don't have a man-body to run you gur-rl! We're goin' to talk men-folks, an' into?” it's talk no gur-rl shud hear, for thin she'd She settled herself in her chair, patted the niver marry, an' by that she'd lose the greatest snowy bands of hair about her round, rosy blessin' Heaven has, which the same is a good face, and launched comfortably into a rem- husband. All men are good husbands if you iniscent, garrulous monologue. do but beat it out of thim." “The funny thing is that, though ivery- At this the maid retreated, echoing aloud, in body has nerves, no two folks as has the same a rare departure from discipline, the shout of kind of nerves iver git married. You'd think laughter that the old woman gave at her own just once, as the exciption to the rule, 'twould philosophy as she lowered her bulky form happen-but niver! Now, Michael's father carefully into a chair. an' mother-I niver see her, but I know from “Now, then, you darlin'—what's your the talk what she was like-they was a fair name? Constance? Sure an? I'm not goin' example. Mr. Macarren's nerves tuk it out to call little Master Michael's wife any stiff on him in making him that milancholy that, Mrs. Macarren. That's the name of his whin he had a black fit on, iverybody in the sainted mother that died before iver I knew house had to hold iverybody else from goin' the spalpeen. And so ye're married a bit of and jumpin' in the river. 'Twas as ketchin' a child like you? An' how do ye make out? as smallpox, an' about as bad to have. An' I suppose about now you're thinkin' Michael his wife, her nerves was the kind that makes is a cross between a divil and an archangel folks what they call spirited, and what is aren't ye?-an'that ye're explorin’in a coun- spiteful. I know, for me own set is on that try no wan else iver discovered before, an' that order. Could she iver have a rale com- there ain't no map to it. Come, now, let me fortable quarrel wid her husband and have it hear all about it. Ye ain't got no mother, so out? Not she, poor craytur! It'd run on I hear, an? I'm safe to tell, for I'm goin' back for days, making her miserable and smolderin' to Ireland the marnin', an' for all I talk so an' smokin' the house all up; whin, if he'd loose there's nobody can get a word out o' me just a-set a match to it, in two minutes of whin it's not his business." blaze 'twould ha' been all out, an' she happy Constance had scarcely caught her breath ag'in. Could he iver ralely enjoy wan of thim after the first onslaught, and at this dashing milancholy spills as long as she was alive? attack on her reserve she suddenly began to Not he! She was always pokin' at him to laugh loudly and then found herself crying. cheer him up, and remind him that there The old woman heaved herself up from her wasn't a mortal thing in the wurrld that he chair like leviathan, and going over to the couldn't have if he wanted it-an' to say other, she put her arms about her in a close that to a person that's havin' a lovely fit grasp which seemed unexpectedly welcome to of nerves is the most hard-hearted, cruel, the shaking, hysterical young creature. torturing invintion av Ol' Nick. "Cry it out, cry it out,” she said heartily. “Now, me an' me ol' man he was a “ 'Twill do ye good-all ye foine ladies don't Yankee, an' the bist man God iver made- know what a trate a rale good cry is—some- God rist his sowl where he now is—it tuk me times I think shtampin' a little hilps, too.” exactly siven years to find out what kind of At this Constance began to laugh again nerves he had, whin 'twas as plain as the nose weakly, wiping her eyes and explaining that on me face is now, what they was like. I her tears were purely nervous. dunno' what it is that makes a person so blind “Yis, yis,” returned the other comfortably, to things that concern 'em the most. I'd have seeking her chair again; “sure I know that done anything in the wurrld for Ezra, but, as talk. And there's more in it than any of ye I say, 'twas siven years before I found out that says it belave. Nerves is the very divil that my harmless little explosions that I let A Pyrrhic Victory 215 off steam wid, was loike death an' the ind av niver had no doubt about what tools to use in the wurrld to him. that trade, and the fit of thim to me hand “I was that way. Some marnin's I'd wake used to make up for always usin’ th' other up backward, as ye might say, an' the only kind at home with Ezra. Did Master Mi- way I could git turned around was to set off chael rise up in the marnin' wid everything all the fireworks in me till I'd just whirl like black to him an' start in makin' iverybody a top for a minute or two-an' thin there I miserable, his rid hair just glistenin' with was in the straight path. But Ezra-once I diviltry an' his blue eyes impish and milan- remimber I felt like as though a banshee had choly at once, as though his father and his started up before me, whin I found, weeks mother was both strugglin' to come to th’ top, after wan ay thim little whirls av mine, that I'd lit him run on about so long, and thin Ezra was still broodin' over it and wonderin' I'd slap his face good, and shake him just as what was wrong. I'd forgotten all about it, hard as me arms would do it, an' set him down as clane as though the Judgment Day had –bang!—in a chair-an' he'd be as happy as happened since. Now, I'm tillin' ye th' a king for two weeks afther. Ah, we got on so “ MY HARMLESS LITTLE EXPLOSIONS WAS LOIKE DEATH AN THE IND AV THE WURRLD TO HIM." truth, I ain't niver yit ralely understood what foine togither! 'Twas Mr. Macarren's won- was the matter that day—and most like 'twas der how I managed th' bye. An' how we did just nothin' at all—but it turned the marrow love each other, my little Michael an' me! stiff in me bones to find Ezra layin' it up ag'in He loved his father, but the man niver cud me; for thinkin' about it and remimberin' it git the hang o' his son. He'd try givin' him is layin' it up, anny way ye fix it. That was what he wanted, to calm him down, an' that the beginnin' av me larnin’ me trade—siven was the warst thing possible. An' he was years it tuk me before I could lay me hand to always tormintin' himself to find out what th' simplest tool av it without danger av was the rayson, which th' same is thryin' to cuttin' meself an' me man-an' I'm no fool count . hin's teeth, since there's no rayson ayther! there at all, at all. “But now your man- your Michael-my “I knew, for I was made so mesilf. If only Michael-he was the comfort av me life. I Ezra could have larned to swear at me once niver did get rale clear-through sure I knew or twice, or maybe heave a plate or two, whin about Ezra, because his nerves was so differ- me nerves was gettin' th' bist o' me! But ent from mine—but little Master Michael! I thin, it's like waitin' for the brook to run by knew him as though he was me own son. I to expect that kind of sinse from a man-body. 216 Everybody's Magazine An’thin think av the hours out av Purgatory swung out of the house, her eyes wide and I've earned by holdin' an to mesilf-an' there vague. was always little Master Michael-Lord save When Michael Macarren dismounted wear- us! 'Twas like seein' mesilf in wan av thim ily from Spitfire, stiff from an all day's ride littlefyin' lookin'-glasses to see him start in on and damp with autumn dew, he was told that a tantrum, an' it done me as much good to his wife was in her little writing-room. He shake him as if it was Ezra growed wise doin' fumbled along the hall to the door and opened it to me.” it, expecting to see the usual pleasant scene She turned a startled head toward the door, of a blazing fire and a wife in a pretty house- suddenly opened, and exclaimed, “By the gown reading under the lamp. The hearth Powers above! if there ain't my niece Rosy was black and in the twilight he could just Donohue come to till me I must go, and this I see his wife sitting upright in a chair. The must till mesilf—I'm the worst tonguey old aspect of things struck him as singularly woman in the Lord's wurrld-me that have · cheerless, and he began—"No fire? On an run on so the few minutes I have to stay, and evening like this?” niver heard a word of news about Master From the dusk came a bullet-like mono- Michael, only I'd heard it all below-stairs syllable, weighted with significance. "No," annyhow: that he's well and handsomer than said his wife. iver. And whin I see you, the second sight “Why in Heaven's name a damp night like I have that comes of my father's bein' the this should be selected to go without—" A sivinth son and me bein' born in October, let bombshell exploded in the little room. His me know that you was fitter to listen to anny wife's voice rose in an accent he had never kind o' talk than to open your mouth, bein' heard before—“There's no fire because I in a fit av nerves yoursilf, whativer kind don't wish to have one--and if I don't wish yours are, which Heaven guard ye from one that's reason enough, and the less you havin' the kind called sensaytive!” say about it the better." Without a pause in the flow of words, she H e stopped short, amazement striking his tied her bonnet on tightly, rose heavily from face blank of all expression. There was a her chair, kissed the young wife firmly and moment's silence. In the dark he could not loudly on both cheeks, and disappeared down see that his wife was trembling uncontrollably. the stairs, her cheerful voice rising from the He caught his breath and began again: depths in incoherent salutations and wishes “Well, of all the greetings for a man when he for good luck. comes home tired and wet and—” This Constance stood alone in the empty room, time the bombshell exploded in his very face, her ears still ringing with confusion. The so that he recoiled against the wall. His clock behind her struck twelve. It was just little Constance had sprung toward him till an hour since she had roused herself from her she was close upon him, and she spoke in apathy to notice that time still marched, a whirlwind of unrestrained, raging temper although there was nothing in the hours for that beat about his ears like something pal- her. She felt a sudden need for action, rang pable. for her luncheon to be served at once, and “You tired!—you come home and want summoned her maid to dress her for a long comfort! What do you think of me left here tramp. All through her was a new tingling all day long with nothing to look back on but restlessness, as though into a close room had your beastly bad temper at breakfast, and suddenly rushed a blast from an October nothing to look forward to but more of it at hillside. Her maid, in dressing her, remarked dinner? The idea of your thinking that I'll on her improved looks. always be here ready to endure your cross- “Old Mrs. Mahoney quite cheered you up, grainedness and bearishness until you're ma'am, didn't she?” she ventured, with the ready to get over it!” friendly interest that Constance's servants al- She was so close to him that he could now ways took in her. “She's such a funny old see that she was trembling, but she held her- thing. She kept everybody down-stairs laugh- self fiercely erect and the tears in her eyes ing while we were sending around to see if might very well have been tears of rage. Mr. Macarren could be found. So Irish, isn't “By Jove!” he exclaimeď in an amazed she?” (The maid's own name was Mary voice, “I never knew you'd look so handsome Malone.) in a fury!” Her mistress nodded an absent assent and She cast a strange look at him and flashed "BUT NOW YOUR MAN-YOUR MICHAEL-MY MICHAEL-HE WAS THE COMFORT AV ME LIFE." out of the door, down the hall, incoherent With the blessed soaring ease of women passionate exclamations streaming behind who love, Constance's mood changed between her stormy passage. Arrived in her own breaths. She was transfigured; she shivered room she stopped short, waiting. Her breath for joy under his caressing hand, her whole came hard, both hands were pressed on her being warmed and opened out into happiness temples, and her very soul seemed directed in in the miracle that only her husband could her straining eyes down the darkened cor- effect. Hiding deep in her heart an ache she ridor. did not recognize, she responded with the When Michael Macarren's large form and exhilaration of relief to all his projects. alarmed perplexed face loomed through the He rose to make the arrangements for their dusk, and she felt about her the clasp of his journey, and bending over her fondly, he strong tender arms, she gave an hysterical kissed her with a new ardor. “Ah, Constance gasp of laughter and shook in a frenzy of dear, there's just nothing you couldn't make nervous tears. The man melted into self- me do! It's true that a man's wife winds reproach, expressed ardently in the most in- him around her little finger-and it's all right, coherent words and fondest caresses. He too!”. was beside himself with remorse. The words still rang in the silent room “You poor dear! You poor darling!” he after he had left her. Yes, she had con- exclaimed. “I am a brute to leave you so. quered him, she told herself, and ruefully I don't know what was the matter with me summoned all her determination to put out this morning—the very devil seems to get into of her sight the cost of her victory. She was me—but it's all gone now. I feel like another quivering still from his caresses, but her person. Ah, Connie dear, I love you so—I knees shook under her with another agitation can't tell you how I love you! And how as she stood before the tall pier-glass trying, beautiful you are--I never saw you look with shaking fingers, to arrange her hair. She handsomer than- See, sweetheart, what do looked resolutely at her own face and past it you say to a few days in the city ?—we've into the years to come, accepted once and for been dull here—the theatres are just open- all a new sadness in her eyes, and turned ing-let's go and have another honeymoon.” joyously to meet her husband. 217 A Study in Emotions By CONSTANCE SMEDLEY Author of " An April Princess,” “ For Heart o' Gold,” etc., etc. THE study window was open, and the cool, who was never more defiant than when he was I rain-scented air entered refreshingly. most deeply repenting. The reading-lamp cast a circle of light upon “You're an ungrateful little beast!” said the litter of books and papers on the table; Margaret, and swept out of the room, while Nina was repeating French verbs, Margaret's Noel laughed a reckless laugh. But the face was bent over a crabbed looking exercise, laugh was mirthless, and the equations danced Noel sprawled in the armchair with his feet upon the page unmeaningly. The accusing over the side, languidly trifling with his silence became painful; Noel rose. Euclid. “Where are you going?” asked his younger “Oh, by the by, what did they say about sister. my bicycle?” asked Noel's sister, looking up Nina was twelve and assertive of her wom- from her books with a start of recollection. an's privileges. Between her and Noel Margaret was sixteen, had just attained the stretched a gulf of mutual irritation. Now dignity of long skirts, and in a year would she followed him into the hall, and hung proceed to college from the high school; she on the banisters in an offensively watchful viewed life with proportionate earnestness. fashion. “Your bicycle?” “What's that to do with you?" said Noel, Noel put down his Euclid suddenly. Col- hunting for his cap. lege is a vague shadow on the indefinite hori- “I only asked,” answered Nina. zon of fourteen, but Margaret's bicycle rose “If you'd mind your own business now and up with horrible distinctness. then, it would be a good thing!” growled “I don't believe you've ever taken it!" said Noel, finding his cap in a soaked umbrella. Margaret. "Really, Noel, your temper is getting “The fact is—" said Noel, and stopped. worse and worse each day," said Nina, with No fact presented itself at the moment except sisterly concern. “And you know mother the damning one that he had completely for- doesn't like you to go out so late. Have you gotten the bicycle's existence from the moment finished all your lessons?” that Margaret had wheeled it out to him in “Go and play with your dolls,” said Noel the garden, with strict injunctions to take it between his teeth, and slammed the door po- at once to the cycle-mender. litely in his sister's face. “You don't mean it's been out in all that The breath of summer whispered in the storm!” said Margaret, with a rising inflection darkness; the leaves of the trees that stood in her voice. “My new free wheel!” along the sidewalk were dripping and fragrant “It won't have hurt it," said Noel sulkily. after the rain; far in the distance sounded the Conscience was gripping him with iron fin rattle of the trams. Noel hesitated, then gers. “Anyhow, it's no use rowing, now the turned and walked slowly up the road. The thing's done!” scent of the lime trees was intense in the dark- “Do you think I don't know that!” ex ness. Presently the houses ceased; Noel had claimed Margaret with indignant bitterness. reached the bridge, whose low parapet afford- “You never do a thing for any one! After ed a convenient place for meditation; he sat all the trouble, I've had coaching you, you down and kicked his heels against the stones. deliberately leave my cycle out in that fear- What if he had forgotten Margaret's bi- ful storm, and you haven't even the grace to cycle? Could he help his memory? Why, be sorry!” only yesterday he had assisted her to develop “I never wanted to be coached,” said Noel, photographs for two hours! Of course, that 218 A Study in Emotions 219 was forgotten. Sisters remembered only grier- have rendered it unfit for use; then he could ances! easily have offered to push the cycle home. The water gurgled soothingly between the His feet led him mechanically to the red arches; he felt a melancholy that was not un house at the corner. It stood back from the pleasant. It was at least more bearable out sidewalk; between the laurel trees the lights here in the moonlight than in the lamp-lit streamed forth. As he watched, the church study, with Nina's shrill voice nagging, and clock chimed ten; there was no chance that the endless scratching of Margaret's pen. the Vision would emerge again that night. How petty a man's life became, lived under Noel turned his steps toward his home. sisters' criticizing eyes! “Where have you been?” Margaret opened Noel began to throw stones in the river. the door to him. “It's after ten, and you've What he wanted was romance and adven- not touched your algebra! Mother's been ture! worrying like anything! What have you been If only there were some desperate deed to doing?” do! Some criminal to track! Some girl to Noel swung past her savagely into the hall. rescue! Words that a gentleman might employ to- Noel rose up from the wall and rammed his ward a sister seemed pitifully inadequate. hands into his pockets. “When do you mean to do your algebra ?” Action! That was what a man wanted! asked Margaret, as Noel snatched up his The ting-ting of a bicycle bell sounded candlestick and made for the staircase. across the bridge. A whir of wheels, and a “I'll get up in the morning,” Noel vouch- cycle whizzed up to him and stopped. safed from the landing. “Have you a match, please?" “I know what that means! Come down at A small girl in a scarlet tam-o’-shanter was once, you naughty~" Noel's door slammed addressing him: she stood beside her bicycle, to. The click of the key was heard within short-skirted, trimly shod, black stockinged. the lock. Sweet are the uses of a lock and In calmer moments and by the light of day key! Noel would have noticed a certain assurance “I don't know what we're going to do with and a propensity to toss her head similar to him," said Margaret, with the hopelessness of the traits he disapproved of so strongly in his sixteen weary years, as she sat down opposite sister Nina. But to-night he was athirst for her mother in the study. “He ought to be romance! punished!” “I don't like going into the town unless my “My dear, he's fourteen!” said Noel's lamp is lit," said the Vision, with the haughty mother meekly. “You can't punish a boy air of one who is accustomed to give orders, who's as tall as Noel!” “I'll light it for you," murmured Noel, ad- “What has he been doing to-night, I should vancing with a match-box. He opened the like to know," said Margaret, sorely hurt at lamp as slowly as possible. Noel's reticence toward her, his sworn ally. “Your wick's nearly through. Have you “Why couldn't he tell me?" far to go?" asked Noel with a beating heart, Why indeed! Up-stairs Noel gazed out of and marveling at his own courage. the window into starry solitude. What “St. James's Road," replied the stranger. should a sister understand about a Vision! “It's that big red house at the corner. We've only just moved to Jeunessetown, and I lost my way, and got caught in the storm and had to shelter. I meant to be home before dark. Won't the wick light?" NOEL sat on a plank in the tool-shed; his The Vision bent an imperious head above chum stood beside the rabbit-hutch and poked the handle-bar. Noel rose up hastily. a lettuce leaf between the bars. Distant “Yes, it's all right now,” said he. murmurs floated from the open windows of “Thank you so much! Good night!” the house, suggesting to the initiated that A flash of patent-leather shoes twinkling on Margaret and Nina were skirmishing in the a muddy wheel, and the bicycle had whirred stormy field of Euclid. away between the row of lamps and lime Outside in the sunshine, the heliotrope and trees, while Noel stood in the roadway, blam- verbenas sent up sweet perfume from the bor- ing himself heartily for having lighted the ders. The tool-house was of corrugated iron, wick. With a little management he might and the sun beat down upon it mercilessly, II 220 Everybody's Magazine while the presence of the rabbits made itself in like that, and leave your guest so far felt in the odorous atmosphere: but the tool behind; it looks so greedy!” said his mother; house had the surpassing charm of privacy. and Noel sat down at the table, loathing all “I'm not rotting or anything," concluded mankind. Noel, “but you never saw such a ripping girl “Crosspatch, draw the latch!” hummed in all your life!” Nina sweetly. Clem passed her the marma- “Tall?" asked Clem, abstractedly pushing lade with an understanding smile. Naturally a stick between the bars. Noel had no course left but to refuse all food. "Fairish! She's not small,” said Noel “I wouldn't sulk with the bread and but- quickly. ter,” said Nina. “Dark?” Clem was insinuating the stick “Be quiet, Nina; just leave him alone," beneath an elderly rabbit and beginning to said Margaret, and Noel knew not which he raise it deftly. hated most. It is well known that love makes “I've grown out of dark girls,” said Noel men moody; Noel sat, a perfect Study in loftily. “It's her fair hair that's so pretty.” Emotions, throughout tea-time. “As pretty as Nina's — your sister's - I “What's the matter with Noel?” he heard mean?" inquired Clem, jerking the stick sud Nina whispering to Clem; Noel in his dark denly. The rabbit pawed the air and fell corner, ground his teeth, and hated friend and over with a squeal. family inclusively. “Look out!" said Noel. “Of course she's Somewhere in the twilight a bicycle was prettier than Nina! I shouldn't have looked wheeling! Somewhere in the twilight a Vis- at her if she wasn't!” ion in a scarlet cap held up an imperious Clem resumed his operations with the let head! And he was doomed to sit still in a tuce leaf. stuffy study and watch his friend and Nina “Where does she live?” he asked, drawing playing ping-pong! What mad whim had back the lettuce with tantalizing skill. prompted him to ask Clem to tea? He re- “In the big red house at the corner of St. fused to be drawn into the conversation; James's Road.” Clem's geniality maddened him. “The house that lawyer chap has come to?”. “Noel is becoming quite impossible," said queried Clem. “If it's that girl, she goes to Margaret, when he had withdrawn his gloomy Miss Vincent's; but no one could call her tall!” presence from his family, on Clem's depart- “I believe she has a little sister,” lied Noel. ure. “I'm ashamed for any one to come “She's not a giantess, of course!” here!" “The girl that lives in the red house has Noel's mother sighed. “I do hope the no sister, beastly short skirts, and a perfect poor boy isn't sickening for anything," she mop of hair," said Clem, drawing up the rab- said. “He looks so yellow!” bit after the lettuce leaf till it stood upon its Upstairs Noel feverishly sorted out his ties. hind legs against the bars. If she went to Miss Vincent's school, he might “Please leave off stuffing my rabbits," see her in the morning. The tie he chose was gasped Noel. “They'll burst in a minute!” flaming scarlet. “This is the identical lettuce leaf I started with," protested Clem, rightly injured. “I III haven't let 'em have a single mouthful.” “Then you're ruining their tempers. I FOR three mornings running Noel had been won't have them fooled like that. It's most late for school. Three mornings running a dangerous!” said Noel with a prompt flank Vision on a bicycle had flashed past Noel as movement. he hung about the corner of St. James's Road. “Did 'ems tease his rabbit then because For three evenings Noel had absented himself they had a flaxen mop and dolly petticoats!” from his anxious family, and had promenaded jeered Clem, shooting the lettuce leaf be- fruitlessly in front of the red house. tween the bars with dizzy swiftness. On the fourth morning he sat at breakfast, “Did you hear me tell you to leave them morose and heavy-eyed. Food was of small alone?” said Noel, his face white with anger. interest. Nina and Margaret chatted on, “Tea, tea, tea!” sang a sisterly voice from but their voices had no power to disturb his the window, and Noel stalked out of the tool- dreams. shed in haughty silence. “I think it's most unwise to encourage Nina “Noel dear, it's such bad manners to race in these sudden friendships," he heard Mar- A Study in Emotions 221 garet's decisive voice remarking to her mother. “He doesn't in the least know what to say," "We know absolutely nothing about the girl!” murmured Nina. “Just look how red he is!” He gathered vaguely that Nina had invited Voel made for his seat blindly; a piercing somebody to tea. He was not interested; he bayonet would have been an ineffective had slept too late to see the Vision on her way weapon at the moment. to school this morning. . “Do you play cricket?” whispered Nina to His Byronic gloom accompanied him to the Vision, and the Vision shook her head. school; he greeted Clem with little enthusi- “I bowl to Noel sometimes, but he gets so iasm; Clem, however, hopped around him cross I soon give up,” confided Nina artlessly. with irritating cheerfulness, and declined to “He has a fearful temper. He's hardly be rebuffed. spoken to us for the last three days. He left “I say, your girl knows Blenkins Minor," Margaret's new free wheel in the garden, and said Clem. it got drenched, and— ” Blenkins Minor! A sudden cold sensation There is a time in the affairs of all men struck to the deepest depths of Noel's youthful when the most nervous must assert his dignity. heart. Blenkins Minor! His pet bête noire! Noel raised a desperate head: he was tayed A little tubby chap with fat pink cheeks and and smarting to the limit of endurance. There knickerbockers! was only one ally at the table, an ally whom he “She asked him to light her lamp," chir- had treated with scant consideration. He ruped Clem, trying unsuccessfully to pirou- dared not look at Margaret: his voice came ette upon one toe. “She lives with her pater roughly. and a housekeeper; Blenkins Minor is going “Seen what Notts has done?” he asked. to get her some white mice!” And Clem H is heart gave a bound of relief at the in- struck out wildly with his left foot, maintain- stantaneous reply. ing an upright poise. “No, dear. What?" Shattered to its foundation, Noel's castle Margaret had responded nobly. Noel lay in the dust, and Blenkins Minor trampled plunged into a sea of information. through its ruins. Then a faint hope crept The Vision and Nina were whispering to- in consolingly. The first respect and awe gether, but Nina's home thrusts failed to hurt had vanished; but he still felt interest in the him when Margaret, superior and stately, ad- Vision, and there is always pleasure in humil- mitted him an equal to her grown up plane. iating an enemy. Blenkins Minor could soon Presently he discovered that the little girls be disposed of. He walked home with curi- were sitting silent, listening. Noel pushed ously pleasurable excitement, and only when still further into complicated scores and bat- he was in the hall did he remember that Ninating averages. had a visitor. Through the dining-room Tall! Why, she was only Nina's size! To door he recognized the giggle Nina adopted the jaundiced eves of disillusion, she did not on such occasions; to-night it did not irritate seem a day older than thirteen. And she was him so much as usual. a confidante of Nina's! Noel averted his He pushed open the door, entered, and eyes in cold disgust. stood still. A flaxen tangle shook itself across “Are you doing anything to-night?” he the table; two blue eyes shot a haughty glance asked of Margaret. at him, a pair of rosy lips whispered to Nina, “Why?" who hid her mirth with ostentation. “I wondered if you'd come for a ride?” said The Vision sat at his own table, Nina's Noel, holding out a final olive branch. friend! Margaret accepted gratefully. Noel felt tides of crimson sweeping, over The road lay white and still in the quiet him; he stood awkwardly within the doorway. summer's twilight; pleasant was the whir of Ought he to recognize her? How was he to the wheel as the bicycles bowled along over greet her? the bridge, where the river lay, a sheet of “Isn't Noel shy?” whispered Nina, in an gold. audible aside. “That's 'cause of you, you Pleasantest of all was it to chat of Nina's know!" delinquencies and to regret with Margaret her The Vision tossed her curls. propensity for these rash friendships. After “Let me introduce my brother,” said Mar- all, love is a troublesome pursuit; Noel was garet. Noel found himself grunting confused not wholly sorry that his brief romance was words that seemed to him to have no meaning. ended. How Moriarty Escaped By H. R. DURANT Illustrations by M. Stein ITE opened his eyes with a start, blinked beer and talk about him-him that had to go I like an animal gazing into the blinding to the chair before the factory whistles blew noonday sun, and then sat up in his narrow at noon. bed with a jerk. From the tiny window over His beady eyes shot fierce beams of im- his head the early morning light stretched potent fury around his steel-sheathed cage and across his cell and cast shadows of the two then rested fixedly on a bundle of black clothes steel window-bars on the white partition near the door. Învoluntarily he gasped with opposite. He could tell by the nearness of uncertain terror, and then deep down in his the two shadows to the bolt-head sticking barrel-like chest came a sickening sense of from the wall that it was six o'clock. The the nearness of death. Heretofore his hazy bolt was his daily sun-dial. Turning his head, thoughts of the end had been in a dim per- he peered with two ratlike eyes through the spective; it had been an abstract question, steel grating of his door into the stone corridor one unsuggested by any material symbol, but beyond, where sat the alert, silent, grim death- now those black, shiny garments in such a watch. The prisoner's bullet head shrank into quiet, orderly pile on the cold metal floor his massive shoulders, then slowly dropped were frightfully tangible. Here at his very forward and remained motionless, like that feet was a beckoning finger from the grave of a bulldog surveying a dead opponent in that yawned for him. He slunk against the the blood-splashed pit. His protruding chin wall and drops of chilling perspiration dotted formed one triangle point from which a his apelike forehead. Between the somber straight line could be drawn over a wide sensual coat and trousers was a layer of white, and mouth, a long upper lip, a pug-nose flattened in the gloomy light of his cell, to his lim- and twisted like a bent corkscrew, and across ited and distorted imagination the bundle a forehead hardly high enough to separate the changed from its shroudlike form and sud- knitted, bushy eyebrows and the black, bris- denly loomed beside him in fiendish mockery, tly hair, to the domelike crown of his head, a veritable grinning death's-head. For an which formed another triangle point, and then instant he snarled at it in a spasm of deadly straight down to the back of his bulging neck. hate, but when it seemed to dance forward, What had once been ears were now two toad, his knotted fingers convulsively clutched his stool-like projections sticking from his head in throat to stifle the wild scream of nameless ghastly prominence. Somewhere afar a bell fear that arose to his thick lips, and then, tolled, and then the answering stillness was throwing the blanket over his head, he grov- rent sharply, as a child's shrill, laughing treble eled among the bedclothes in a paroxysm of came through the window and drummed its helpless and immeasurable terror. 'way into his slow brain. He shook his head As he lay thus and shook, there was little pugnaciously and his repulsive face expressed to recall the invincible champion of two- the mighty sullen rage within, as he recog score prize-rings, a man who had dared and nized the sound. defeated all who sought his title, but instead Yes, outside were children playing in the there was the cowardly brute who had vicious- June sunshine, he reflected, with a consuming ly pounced like a wild beast upon his patient, bitterness. This afternoon bands would play faithful woman companion, for some fancied at the race-tracks, and to-night-where would wrong, and had clubbed her head into an un- he be to-night?—the bunch would meet in recognizable mass. It was for this that he McGlory's joint over big glasses of foaming must die. 222 How Moriarty Escaped 223 His condition of abject fear slowly gave “But you broke his crucifix and drove him way to a strange and growing inspiration of from your cell yesterday. He said he would new courage and a keen animal cunning. not come again.” He cautiously slipped the blanket from his “I want Father Ryan," he repeated dog- round head and his snaky eyes narrowly gedly. searched the figure of the imperturbable “Very well—I'll have to telephone and it death-watch outside in glittering malevolence. may take ten minutes to get him. The rest Ah-the glistening chain ran from a button- of the keepers are in there." He pointed to hole in his watcher's coat to a side pocket the end of the passage where Moriarty knew where rested, he knew, the great prison was a door that opened upon that dreaded keys. His sluggish intellect was marvelously chair, now literally waiting to infold him with quickened by the resolute thought of escape. its arms of death. Again was he the cool, resourceful fighter, “It won't be long now, Moriarty. Keep mentally deliberating upon the complete up your courage,” the warden added, in a physical annihilation of an elusive antagonist. low voice, as he turned and passed from view. Now he no longer thought of the package Sol—the prison keepers were all in the of black clothes at his feet! Already in his death-chamber? Of course, the guards were mind's eye the June sun was warming his outside on the walls, but only this—this guy shaven head, cool within six feet of hills of waving green him was between were gloriously him and the sun- greeting his vision, light! and fresh breezes "Hey, Bill!” he fanned the prison called, and the pallor of his cheek watcher came to the into a joyous flush door, “s'pose we of anticipative free- shake a good-by now dom. The jailer's -here's me left head had dropped hand-it's nearest forward a little. He me heart." was dozing! Midway in the The prisoner door was an aper- stepped from his ture about eight bed and laying hold inches square, of the steel bars of through which food his door, violently could be passed shook it like an en- without unlocking raged gorilla. At the the door. The watch- sound of the loud rat- er smiled sym - tling the death-watch pathetically as he sprang up, and the reached through the warden hurried bars and then, when down the corridor. his charge leaned “What's the mat- forward as though ter, Moriarty?" to whisper some- asked the warden, thing, he bent his not unkindly; "you own head and aren't losing your turned his ear op- nerve at the last posite the opening minute, I hope. in the door. The Your breakfast will next instant a be here soon. Did gnarled fist shot you want some- through the hole and thing?" landed with unerr- "I want Father ing aim and fearſul Ryan,'' he said force directly under sulkily. THE PRISONER SHOOK IT LIKE AN ENRAGED GORILLA. the keeper's ear. He 224 Everybody's Magazine sank insensible, and Moriarty, still holding one hand in an iron grip, pulled the inert body toward him against the bars. A hairy hand tore the keys from the keeper's coat, a bolt clinked in its socket, and-Moriarty sprang into the corridor! At his feet was the unconscious death- watch in a huddled heap. With his fanglike teeth showing in a murderous smile of glee Moriarty glided over the stone pavement with tigerish grace, noiselessly slipped a key from the bunch in his hands to the keyhole in the door leading to the death-chamber, and half turned it, thus effectually preventing any one from opening it except from his side-then- back again with stealthy tread to where the keeper lay. He stooped over him, felt for his revolver, and then-once, twice, three times the heavy butt of the weapon fell on the watch- er's head, leaving a jagged, crimson track. “That puts th’ kibosh on you,” he muttered as he lifted the unconscious form and slammed it upon his bed. When he again leaped from the cell he wore the keeper's blue trousers and flannel shirt, and the black coat that the State had provided as part of his own grave clothes. The trousers of the black suit he had found slit behind from knee to ankle and consequently useless. He ran down the corridor and back again. Nobody could get in, but-he couldn't get out! The house of execution was a small building apart from the main prison, consisting of two cells in which crimi- nals were placed when their time for electrocution grew near. Its other condemned occupant had gone to the chair the week before. “There's where they fatted me like a prize hog fer th' slaughter," he growled, with a curse, as he eyed his cage again. Thirty feet above his head the corrugated sheet-iron roof sloped gradually downward to the rear wall. He had never before noticed that small wood- en skylight in the roof. There might be a way! From wall to wall ran a round iron bar as a support to the building. It was high above his head and fully seven feet beneath the skylight. If he could only reach that bar Lif he only could! His little eyes gleamed and he drew in his breath with a hissing noise as he saw a water-pipe running down one wall from roof to floor. In four jumps he had reached the pipe and with another spring had fastened upon it with the nimbleness of a cat. Up-up he climbed, clawing with hands, digging with feet, and gripping with knees, inch by inch, until the bar was gained. As he grasped it and swung clear in the air like a gymnast, there came a banging on the steel MORIARTY PULLED THE INERT BODY TOWARD HIM. assailed his ears from below, and as he desperately strove to gain his equilibrium on the slippery iron surface his eyes grew blood- shot, foam came to his mouth, and his teeth gnashed incessantly like the frantic snapping of a mad dog. Slowly he arose to an upright position on the bar, weaving to and fro dizzily for a perfect balance, leaped for the skylight edge, held on for a second, and then wriggled his way up through the hole. Sliding to the edge of the roof, he hung for an instant and IN HIS HEADLONG RUSH KNOCKING OVER A WOMAN. then dropped to the ground. He saw two chil- dren look up from their playing in wide-eyed door of the death-chamber. Hand over hand wonder at a hatless man who had apparently he went along the bar with the agility of a fallen from the sky. He knew they were the monkey, swinging back and forth through warden's children and that their father's house space in his passage like a pendulum, until he was before him. The high prison wall joined saw he was beneath the skylight. The pound the house on each side, but the house itself ing in the corner grew louder. He snarled in fronted on—the street! To the right on the wolfish rage and muttered defiling oaths as he massive stone abutment a man had just began to jerk his body forward-backward, stepped from a turret and stood silhouetted each time gaining momentum, until at last he against an azure background. Simultane- was under full headway, and circling like an ously with a puff of smoke from the man's acrobat on a horizontal bar. Then as his rifle came a shower of brick-dust on his own body soared high, poised in mid-air for the head—the bullet was six inches too high, fraction of a second, and began a descent of He dashed through the door, in his headlong appalling celerity, his legs straightened out rush knocking over a woman in the kitchen and on the upward swing his feet landed full who was standing as one petrified, tore against the skylight with irresistible force. through the dining-room and hall, and out It broke from its fastenings as from the im- upon the sidewalk. In front a boy had just pact of a battering-ram, and then-overhead ridden up on a bicycle and dismounted. In was the gold of the sun, the blue of the sky, another moment the boy was stretched out on the flocculent white clouds and–freedom! his back and Moriarty was riding the wheel The sharp ring of metal against metal at a furious pace toward the open country. 225 226 Everybody's Magazine On and on he sped, up hill and down with stops there fer water. Make that Flyer an' undiminished speed, beside green meadows yer git a start, anyway.” As he spoke the and through stately woods until at last every train slackened speed and had hardly come to blistering breath seemed a red-hot iron burn- a full stop when the express rolled alongside. ing a hole in his chest, and tearing pains The brakeman peered between the trains, coursed through his legs with an untold and then tapped Moriarty on the shoulder. agony. Just ahead railroad tracks crossed “Now!” he said. “Scoot fer that Pullman the highway, and here he fell from his bicycle, an’ straddle a truck. Yer'll be in Chicago panting and numb. Then on his hands to-night. S’long.” and knees, dragging the wheel behind, he From his uncomfortable position on the crawled into the thick laurel and alders, and rear truck of the Pullman, sprawled out and. plunged forward on his face as one dead. hugging close lest he be shaken off and pulver- Far away a whistle shrieked and the hills took ized by those ringing, spinning wheels, Mori- up its echoing wail. He heard it again, this arty caught fleeting glimpses of rivers below; time much nearer, and accompanied by the and stretches of thick forests and undulating increasing roar of pounding wheels. He fields came to his blurred vision in a lightning- staggered to his feet to see a long freight train like panorama. As the ties rushed under- approaching and slowing up, and he dived neath in an endless stream, the keen, ecstatic forward toward it. Vines and roots tripped joy in his regained liberty soon changed to a him, thorns and brambles stung him like a sense of dreary monotony, and with the pass- nest of wasps, low branches lashed his face ing hours his unvarying, cramped position into livid welts, but still he reeled ahead. brought acute suffering that at last wore At last he reached the long row of empty coal- down even his dense, unimpressionable cars, scrambled over the side of the nearest nature, so that at times his dull faculties one, and tumbled breathlessly to the floor. awoke to half hysterical ravings. In rational The train backed up a hundred yards and periods he was torn with longing for man's then resumed its way as a brakeman swung help and a deadly fear of capture. That up on the car and dropped beside him. hideous chair was then before him, seemingly “Whatcher doin' here?” he growled to the surrounded by millions of electric sparks, haggard-faced man at his feet. The latter's with flashes of death-dealing bolts shooting reply was to grin as a maniac grins and then from it into space. Whenever the engine, crouch as if to spring at the other's throat. without abating its flashing speed, scooped “Hold on!” yelled the brakeman; "yer kin water from the reservoirs between the rails, ride all right. I don't want t' put yer off.” he was soaked through and through. The Moriarty settled back, but his glittering eyes stinging dust blinded him, cinders bored into never left the railroad man, who stood trans- his flesh and scorched his face like hot needles, fixed, with icy waves creeping along his spine. and soon a raging thirst consumed him. In He knew there was murder in that hulking his racking punishment he shrieked aloud, figure. He could see it in the twitching but the grinding wheels gathered up his fingers, in the gleam of those eyes through agonizing scream and ricochetted it back to slitted lids, in the clicking teeth of the orang- him. Still he hung on. The sunlight faded. outang jaw, in the bullet head, dovetailed At long intervals the train stopped, and then deep between spreading shoulders—and he came blackened imps who carried torches of made haste to show his good-will. He bent fire which stifled him, and who swung huge over and raised his voice above the roar of hammers against the wheels about him un- the train. til their pounding of the resounding metal “Just broke out th’ pen, didn't yer?” rang through his ears and brain in a wild Moriarty silently glared at him. “That's all tumult. The weight of the whole car seemed right, pal; keep mum if yer want 1'. I'm a on his back, his legs could brace no more, and wise gazabo-an' I'm yer friend, at that! his hands had not power left to grip a wet Are you listening?” The other nodded. sponge. Then—then his teeth closed on a “This down freight always stops here to pick protruding bolt and he held on like a bulldog, up an empty or two. They'll tumble yer as the car pitched from side to side, swerved made this train an'lay fer yer at Pough- around curves, and . w on with uncanny keepsie. Yer want t go th’ other way. velocity through an inferno of sounds. 'Bout two miles below here we pick up more A lifetime of unspeakable misery was near- empties at a sidin' an' th’ Chicago Express ing its end. The train gradually lessened How Moriarty Escaped 227 from a drunken man sleeping beside a bill- board and place it on his own head, then lurched on. At a cross street he paused to survey a crowd of men standing under an arc light in front of a barnlike structure. It at- tracted him and then-intuitively—he knew that a prize-fight was taking place inside. “What's doin'?” he asked the nearest man. “Looks like a fakerino,” was the dis- gusted reply. “Prelims' went off all right, but th' star bout is all t'th' bad. Half past 'leven now an' th’ stiff from St. Louis what was goin' on tdo a final 'f fifteen with th' Chicago 'Cyclone' ain't showed up. If he don't flash pretty quick th' mob'll be squealin' fer their mazuma.” Moriarty quickly elbowed his way through speed and the hissing air-brakes blocked the wheels to a full stop. He had endured to the utmost of his being. Dragging him- self clear he fell helplessly between the rails. The train remained motionless, yet at any moment it might proceed, and as the thought of his extremely precarious position dawned upon him he gritted his teeth and crawled clear of the rails. His feeling of complete exhaustion grew less as his blood quickened into renewed life, and, after two fruitless efforts, he stood waveringly upon his feet. He was in a freight-yard. The flaring engine headlights leered at him men- acingly from the somber night; the rhyth- mic gasp of escaping steam was like the labored panting of hidden monsters; bells rang; cars rattled and smashed against one another, and in front of him myr- iads of electric lights were dancing like fireflies. The railroad depot must be there. The muscles of his legs were twitching through the relaxing of his tense position, but after a few steps he was able to resume his old swagger. A queer sounding bell, striking spasmodically, a long, white bar soaring heavenward, and a heavy truck bounding across the tracks ahead, told him that he was at a grade crossing. He left the ties for the darkened street, one hand clutching the keeper's re- volver, and his eyes, now bright as an owl's, pene- trating hallways and alleys. He stopped once, to remove the hat UCK the crowd and stood before the ticket sel- ler, who scowled at the grimy, repellent face framed in the small window. “Whatcherwant?” growled the official. “Just left me job in th' coal yard,” he answered. “If yer want any one t' go on wi' th’ Cyclone—I'm it!” “You?” in exasperated derision; "why, he'd knock yer dead. Ever do any scrap- pin'?" “Just a few. Show me some clothes an' if I don't beat his block off I don't git a sou- HE CRAWLED INTO THE THICK LAUREL AND ALDERS. 228 Everybody's Magazine After a hurried conversation within he was him, and he sought to jump, but too late!— escorted to a dressing-room, and while he was those chair arms held him fast as in a vise and making ready he heard the announcer bawl- in another instant the quivering wire had ing the welcome news that the management coiled around him with the speed of light, had arranged a bout between the Chicago wrapping him tight with red-hot bands that “Cyclone” and an unknown. burned to the bone. The sputtering head of The familiar roar of applause that arose the molten snake struck at the back of his at his appearance was like rich wine to his neck, searing its way to his brain, his eyeballs blood, the smoke-laden atmosphere was sweet split in twain, and his legs were encased in a incense to his nostrils, and he sprang through withering furnace fire of white heat. He the ropes with a set expression of ferocity on caught the odor of sizzling flesh, strove with his ugly face. Everything was unchanged one supreme effort to escape the horrible, in- to him except the chair in his corner-for the tolerable torture, and- first time in his ring career he found a seat provided that had arms to it. That was. The bright incandescent light over the funny! A chair with wide arms in a fighter's straining figure in the high-backed chair went corner! Well, his handlers didn't seem to out as the current was shut off, and the life- mind it. He thought it was peculiar that less body of Moriarty, the murderer, relaxed they should press him back in his chair and limply. The State physician made the usual whisper words of advice in his ears. Across death tests and, stepping back, said, with a the ring his antagonist daintily shuffled his sigh of relief: feet in the powdered resin, danced nimbly “Well, he's dead at last!” about on his toes, and tested the taut ropes. The attendants unstrapped the warm body Overhead the arc lights shed blinding rays and stretched it upon the table. The trem- upon the padded floor, and Moriarty noticed bling, white-faced witnesses slowly filed out. that they were fed by a long, swaying wire “Never in my experience," declared the that ran from the side of the building. Mid- physician, “have I seen such power of resist- way in the air a tiny spark played along its ance as he possessed against the voltage we surface. The twinkling light fascinated him, gave him. These animal-like beings are nat- and though when the gong clanged for the urally incapable of keen, quick impressions. call of time he advanced toward his op- They are not immediately susceptible to pun- ponent in his usual menacing manner, he ishing sensations as are you and I. The was still holding that flashing spark above prize-fighter becomes successful in his pro- with the corner of his eye. fession because a hard blow on the jaw is He feinted, led, countered, and clinched not telegraphed to his brain with the result with the easy mechanical movements of all that would follow were a man of a deli- boxers in every opening round, and returned cate, nervous organism to receive the same unruffled to his corner for the moment's rest blow." all in the usual way, except for an inexpli “Doctor, do you imagine these criminals cable desire to keep that bright electric spark suffer any when electrocuted?” asked the overhead within his vision. warden. He grasped the arms of his chair again, “Not at all,” he answered; "they never such hard, wide arms!—and then observed know what strikes them.” that the spark had grown larger and was “Well, this prize-fighter, Moriarty, was a sputtering belligerently in a blue flame. He great surprise to me. We found him moan- gazed at it first in wide-eyed amazement, ing with his head under the bedclothes when watching its increasing glow fearfully with his time came. He was too weak with fright staring eyes, and then fairly shaking with to dress himself. We got him ready and vague terror. Suddenly there was a lightning- hurried him here as fast as we could. He like flash, a sharp cracking noise, and the wire lost his nerve completely-in fact, I am sure parted. Writhing and snapping, the glowing his mind was wandering. Yes, doctor, that end, alive with death-dealing fire, fell toward is all-I am glad it's over.” Young TOMPKINS by Juliet WILBOR. Lady HAARY BLACHMAM 07 VOU can say what you like about pov- hateful optimists, who see good in everything; Y erty," declared Mrs. Seaver, substitut- you had a touch of it at college, but I hoped ing a white apron for a blue-checked and a life had cured you.” Nanny pulled a cushion baby for a duster with brisk, capable move- from a chair and stretched her thin length ments. “Of course, it has its deprivations; on the floor, looking up at her hostess with but I tell you, Nanny, it means freedom. moody amusement. “I have seen the poor Not dreadful, slum poverty—I don't mean taking their humble pleasures, my dear Laura, that; but honest, scrimping, hopeful, one-girl and felt not one pang of envy. I want a full, poverty, like ours." rich, padded life — good-looking, well-bred Nanny knelt before the baby and made love people coming and going, and beautiful sur- to his curled-up feet while he stared at her roundings and-and-oh, well, I take my dispassionately over his bottle. poverty philosophically; I don't whine. But “It may be good for your character, but I I am not going to pretend that I like it or that don't see where the freedom comes in,” she I spell freedom that way." objected, lifting heavy, unsatisfied eyes to the Mrs. Seaver looked down thoughtfully at contented face above her. “Why, you can't the small, delicately cut face. The big, rest- even get away from town in summer.” less, gray-black eyes still held the look of “And that is just it—we don't have to," smoldering darkness that had awed and was the triumphant answer. “If we were a allured her at their meeting, nine years ago, little better off, we should be struggling to in the first strangeness of college halls; but the manage it. But, as it is, we have this nice, mouth had learned an ironic smile for smoth- cool little flat, and the square for baby, and ered fires. any number of amusing people to drop in on “Do you like your teaching?" she asked us, and Ned and I have all sorts of sprees- abruptly. oh, you have no idea what fun the poor have “No. What a silly question!” in summer. We'll show you. It isn't as if They both laughed. “What part of your we hadn't the east wind, you know; we don't life do you like?” Laura persisted. “There swelter like New York.”' must be gleams somewhere.” “Oh, you are growing into one of those Nanny considered. “The half-hour after I 229 230 Everybody's Magazine ne get to bed," she said finally. “I can always the bay. Two little boys with mouth-organs be a princess in the dark. Yes, that half- seated themselves near by and began to play hour almost makes up for everything." rival tunes. Presently an ambling and un- “Nonsense!” Laura exclaimed. “That's clean old man joined them and volunteered morbid. Half-hours in bed indeed—and at information about the harbor. Then a shrill your age! Here, take baby a minute.” game was organized on the bank above them. Nanny held out her arms in wide welcome. And yet only an hour and a half had gone by. “What are you going to do?” she asked “Did you ever feel anything as heavenly as amusedly. this breeze?” asked Laura. "I hate to move, “Send for Peter Croft,” was the emphatic but we really ought to be starting back before reply. very long." “Why Peter Croft?” Nanny rose as though on springs. The Mrs. Seaver paused in the doorway. glare still sent stabbing pains through their “Because he is a vagabond, a wanderer on the eyes as they plodded back with the ceaseless face of the earth; because he hasn't a cent to procession over the long pier. The open cars his name, but gets more out of life than any were crowded, but Mrs. Seaver cleverly found padded millionaire that ever breathed gold seats for both and beamed congratulations as dust; because he can teach you a thing or two, they wedged themselves in. Nanny, not to Nanny Oliver!” appear unappreciative, endured the over- Early that afternoon, while the sun was still flowing of the loosely corpulent person beside boring mercilessly through the dense trees of her until his head drooped drowsily toward their little twisted street, the two women came her shoulder; then she sprang up with a out in cool summer dresses, with parasols and shudder. The conductor, grinning, roused magazines. her neighbor. Every one was grinning, and “Grand people have a complicated time even Laura looked amused. Nanny set her getting to the seashore, but the poor can just teeth and tried to take an interest in the dingy, go,” Laura had boasted. “You'll see.” downtrodden streets with their look of greasy They took an open car that plunged through poverty and their stands of shriveled fruit. squalid streets and smells until, half an hour The clean, fresh little home opened to her like later, it brought them to the water-front; then, a sanctuary. Without comment, she flew to with eyes narrowed against the glaring, quiv- the bath-tub. ering light, they followed an interminable “Laura says you had a nice excursion this wooden pier that finally deposited them on a afternoon,” Ned congratulated her as they sat small green island. On the far side of this down to dinner. they came abruptly upon a surprise: cool blue “At least, I think she enjoyed it,” Laura waves were rippling in straight from the ocean, amended. Nanny's native frankness could and white sails, slanting past, left a trail of bear no more. romance. The city had completely disap- “Well, she didn't!” was the explosiv peared. Nanny exclaimed with pleasure. “Laura, if you thrust any more humble “Didn't I tell you?” Laura demanded. pleasures on me, I shall go home by the next “Now if we can find a spot a little apart from train! It was horrible. Oh, the smells, and the crowd " the jarring voices, and the ugly sights, and the There undeniably was a crowd. They crowd jammed into one, touching one at every settled themselves in a nook that suggested side-I did my best, Laura, and I am any- seclusion, but the number of visitors to the thing you want to call me; but if I had to live square yard of island increased with every through it again, I should die!” ten minutes. Children ran shrieking across Laura laughed ruefully but with perfect their grassy hollow, mothers spread their good nature. shawls to right and left, newspapers and “Oh, poor Nanny! I am so sorry. But banana skins blossomed in the trodden grass, you must not give up just yet, must she, Ned? resounding punishments and stolidly open Don't you think, with Peter Croft to help love-making went on about them; and the educate her—" Some expression on her entire island seemed to be eating. husband's face made her pause and glance “It is such a decent, good-humored crowd, over her shoulder. In the doorway behind one doesn't mind it,” said Laura. her stood a long, loose figure looking quizzi- “Yes,” said Nanny, fixing her eyes per- cally down on Nanny's dark braids. sistently on the reviving, leaping sapphire of "Ah, no, I can't help her," he said as Laura Young Lady 231 started up with a laugh. “She is a young lady, and young ladies don't like the masses.” "Remember, it is her first plunge, Peter,” Laura urged as she introduced him and set a place for him opposite Nanny. He shook his head dubiously. “That was perfect young-ladyism, that little cri du cæur I overheard,” he objected. “I am helpless before it. While I was ex- pounding my great doctrines, she would be noting my bad manners.” Nanny's eyes met his with a hint of chal- lenge. “That is wholly possible,” she said coolly. "Still, if you are a great enough teacher- just what is it you teach?” A smile lit his thin, lined face into a momentary lovableness. “I teach the art of curiosity,” he said, and would explain no further. . A faint breath of coolness had come with evening. After dinner they went eagerly to the windows and leaned out. “Peter, take Miss Oliver out and give her a good time," Laura commanded. “I can't leave baby to-night, and Ned can't leave me.” Mr. Croft glanced at Nanny in whimsical alarm. “But I don't know how to amuse a young lady," he protested. . . "But it is precisely to cure her of being a young lady that a wise Providence has sent her here. Do what you like with her, Peter; I give you carte blanche and a latch- key." “You dare risk it?” he asked Nanny. “If I don't like it, I shall say so," she as- sented. They walked slowly down the little twisting street, the warm darkness, silver-tipped with cool, resting deliciously on their faces and bare hands. "What is a young lady, from your stand- point?” Nanny began abruptly. He considered. “I should say it was one in whom the little senses had been developed at the expense of the big sensibilities.” . “The little senses-sights and smells and sounds-oh, yes, then I am absolutely a young lady,” she admitted. “No, not absolutely,” he corrected her. MB LACHMAN OF NANNY ENDURED TIE OVERILOWING OF THE LOOSELY CORPULENT PERSON BESIDE HER. 232 Everybody's Magazine “If you were, you would be angry now. apprehension when they turned into an Vanity is one of the little senses, you know.” obscure side street and, entering a lighted “Oh, I am-furious, only I am too proud to doorway, paused before a ticket window. show it.” He bent his head to glance under The ruddy German within greeted Peter her hat brim and their eyes met with amused cordially by name and handed him two tickets serenity. in return for fifty cents. . “No; I begin to consider you a hopeful "Up here,” said Peter, turning to a bare case,” he decided. “Do you like to dance?” and dusty flight of stairs. The strains of a “Very much. Is that a good symptom or band came to them as they mounted, and the a bad?'. young-lady feet faltered. He smiled but did not explain. They had “What sort of place is it?” The question turned, not toward the trees and the open would come, and it brought him to a halt. places, but into small back streets that brought “Perfectly respectable," he assured her, a them presently to a wider thoroughfare where latent twinkle in his eyes. “A German open cars crashed and jolted by crowded with dancing-club—they are friends of mine, so I shirt-waisted women and coatless men, where can get in. But if you " the sidewalk couples strolled in leisurely prom “Oh, no," said Nanny politely. enade and the windows showed remnants of It undeniably was respectable. She had what had been a crowd still dining at counters a momentary impression of sedate German or at marble-topped tables in a white blaze of faces smiling above high-necked gowns or light. It was curiously stimulating, this great perspiring above every-day coats. Then she common stream of life, so complete in itself, forgot everything but her starved love of so indifferent to a passing young lady. dancing. Waltz after waltz they danced in Nanny liked the lights, the great blocks of ice happy silence; it was like a deep draft of holding clams and the scarlet shine of lobsters something heretofore only tasted. The in- in the windows; the ripple of a belated street- toxication of it was brimming in her eyes piano tempted her feet. A novel sense of when at last they stopped. freedom, coming in part from her linen dress “So the poor do have good times in their and. gloveless hands, gave a touch of reck- way?” he ventured. His eyes kept coming lessness to her gaiety. back to her lighted face. “Who are you?" she demanded. “No one “Perfectly beautiful!” She laughed at her has explained you to me. Do you belong own complete surrender. “And they are all here?” so nice and kind and friendly-everybody “Here and everywhere." likes everybody, and I lɔve them all!” “What do you do?”. “Ah, and I called you a young lady! For- “For my living? Write.” . give me.” “Write well?” “What am I now?” “Altogether too well. The papers won't His lovable smile warmed and lit his thin, leave me in peace.” lined face. “A remarkably good dancer," “What do you want to do with your peace?” he said. “Here comes the master of cere- “Live and learn. And teach!” monies. Will you meet him?" “Teach-young ladies?” “Surely. And dance with him, too!” He laughed. “Yesterday I should have Her elation carried her flying through the said, God forbid!” introduction and presently well out on the “Whom, then?” floor in the arms of Herr Schwartz. And “Any one who wants to know the things then a curious thing happened. Once out of other people have taught me. I am a clear- sight of Peter Croft, her gaiety dropped as ing-house for wisdom and experience-by though struck with a stone. Cold dismay the grace of curiosity!" clutched at her like a physical illness. What “What shall you do with it all?” was she doing here in this vulgar hall, held “Wait ten years and see.” against the stuffy coat of a pompadoured, red- “I suspect that you are trying to arouse the faced barber or grocer, merged in this dread- grace of curiosity in me.” ful, alien crowd? What right had any one to “I wish I could. Don't you even wonder put her in such a position-and how came where we are going?” she to be there with a man she had scarcely “Oh, I will trust it to you,” she said con- met? She was furious at herself, at Peter, at fidently. Nevertheless she felt a pang of the Seavers. Young Lady 233 After one turn about the hall she came to a halt. “I am tired," she explained, and looked desperately about for Peter. He joined her very soon, but the wait had seemed intermi- nable and she met him coldly. "I wish to go home,” she said, and led the way out, ignoring his presence. Peter's keen eyes probed her profile, but his only outer recognition of her mood was to take her home by devious quiet streets, avoid- ing the lighted thoroughfare and the summer- night crowds. He did not talk, and some quieting element of his presence gradually soothed her alarmed fastidiousness and made her even a little ashamed of it. She glanced up at him as they passed a street-lamp, and their eyes met. "I am a young lady," she confessed. “I only like the masses when I'm a little-a little--" “Drunk,” he finished, with humorous understanding. "Exactly. Thank you. But why do I have to like them?” “Ah, you don't; but you have to be open to all things human, high or low, to be eternally conscious that-well, that everybody is some- body. Once you have realized that, you for get all about liking'-it doesn't matter any more. You may rather love them, that's all.” A slow motion of her head expressed skepticism. “What is it you are going to do in ten years?" she asked. “Wait and see!” In the weeks that followed Nanny had numberless excursions, up and down the coast by boat, by trolley out into the country, by canoe along a still, moonlit river. She also went to a socialist meeting, a political rally, a police-court Monday morning, and a Metho- dist tent-meeting. She was frequently in crowds; and when these came too close for her nerves, Nanny said scornfully to herself, “Young lady!” But Peter had a way of deftly putting himself between her and the worst of it. Once settled, he was as apt to talk to the stranger on the other side as to her. When this stung she called herself “Young lady!” more scornfully than ever, and bent forward to listen and take part. It was good talk, for Peter was quite clear as to what he wanted, and knew how to get it. “Will it really be ten years before you have written your book?" she asked one day in a casual voice. He started and gave her a sharp look, then answered simply, “Ten at least. How did you find me out?” he added presently. She laughed but offered no ex- planation. He talked to her about it some- times, after that, and her respect for him took on a humble admiration. Mrs. Seaver was openly triumphant about the progress of her education; yet the phe- nomenon that had spoiled the dance still per- sisted. With Peter, she found the world full of interesting individuals; without him, these at once became blurred into alien and re- pugnant masses. She was too dreamily happy to ask herself the reason for this. When at last the explanation was thrust upon her, it acted like a sudden draft on a fire that has been stealing unsuspected behind blind walls. Peter himself, all unconsciously, supplied it, coming in one evening with an alert air of good news. “Lucia is back," he announced. Mrs. Seaver was enthusiastically glad. “Nanny must meet her,” she added. They told her a great deal about Lucia that evening. She had been West on behalf of the women's trade-unions, for which she was an ardent worker. She had a wonderful brain-and the dearest, merriest brown eyes-and a nature as big as all outdoors-and she adored the baby-and she understood social conditions better than any woman east of Jane Addams. Laura would have gone on with her part of the duet after Peter had left-he stayed only a little while--but Nanny escaped to her own room. The smoldering conflagration had leaped out at her from every side and she crouched in the midst, frightened, tortured, and desperately angry. "I won't, I won't,” she cried, her face crushed against the bed, beside which she had flung herself. “It is absurd, impossi- ble. I couldn't lead his life-I don't want to! I have gone mad. That hateful para- gon woman with her trade-unions—I hope he does care for her. That will make it easier to get away. She would probably like living in the slums. Oh, the dirt and the smells and the sordid ugliness-” She forced her mind to picture the scenes in which the woman whom Peter loved must pass her - life and above the squalor suddenly ap- peared his face, the keen, honorable eyes looking straight into hers. “Oh, he is a man,” she exclaimed breathlessly, and the pain caught her again so sharply that she nearly cried out. All the summer glamour had been torn off the world when at last the dawn came. She had decided that she 234 ne Everybody's Magazine ACHMAN together. would not love ing to meet her, Peter, and that she caught her breath would go away. away. Peter thrust Laura combat- out his hands, and ed her intention to Рим even before they leave at once so closed over her vigorously that own she knew with she compromised a stab of joy that on the end of the he too was suffer- week, and felt a ing and fighting. contraband relief From their meet- in the respite. The ing hands the tide first sight of Lucia swept up into their —that evening, at faces. Then he a meeting on be- drew away from half of women's her almost impa- trade-unions- tiently. was another relief. "I came out for For an hour a breath of air,” Nanny stared at began Nanny, not the squarely built, knowing what she plain - featured said. woman on the “Yes, it is platform with a warm,” he admit- fierce, wicked, and ted stiffly, and inexplicable satis- they walked slow- faction — inexplic- ly down the hill able since she her- self was leaving on "I AM A YOUNG LADY," SHE CONFESSED. “Ah, he's fight- Saturday. Yet she ing hard, the dar- had scarcely shaken Lucia's hand, afterward, ling!” she thought, glad and amused and very when the knife was thrust back into her leftº tender of him. Aloud she said pleasantly side with triple force. Perhaps it was those that they had missed him. “I am going on kindest, merrièst brown eyes, and the whole- Saturday,” she added, glancing up to see how souled sweetness of the mouth beneath them; deeply it hurt. perhaps it was some intangible look in them “I am very sorry to hear it,” he said com- when they were turned on Peter, or the vast posedly. This was fighting rather too well. amount he and she had to say to each other Moreover, he had turned back at the end of when the crowd gave them a chance. the block as though to deposit her at her door “Isn't she splendid?” murmured Laura as as quickly as possible. they stepped back to make room for others. “Won't you give me a last adventure?" she “She would be perfect for Peter, wouldn't asked. “I am sure you haven't wholly finished she?-only he is too thorough a vagabond to my education-have you? I want something marry, I am afraid.” exciting this time, something I shall always Peter did not come near them for three remember,” she went on. “A fire or a mur- days; and she was leaving on Saturday. On der, perhaps. Can't you manage it for me?” the third evening, when the hour for expecting “Why, I think I can find something of the him had gone by, Nanny slipped out by her- sort." His voice was persistently dry. “I self and walked slowly down the little twisted will look it up." street. She did not know where she was “Do you think I am any less of a young going; she simply said to herself that she lady?” she pleaded. “couldn't bear it.” “Decidedly less-almost cured; I should Half-way down the second block a long think. Though perhaps it is I that am turn- figure was leaning against the trunk of a ing into a young gentleman,” he added with horse-chestnut. He lifted a pale, lined, tired an irritable jerk of his shoulder. She laughed face at her step. at the idea, with a deeper note for what was “Nanny!” The smothered word, spring- implied. Young Lady 235 660 "I don't believe you are,” she said mildly. A pool-room did not look so very dreadful “No. I am a vagabond to the end. I at first sight. There was a crowd of men, have no right to be anything else, and no here and there a woman; a blackboard with a desire. It is my life. Good night.” list of names; a sort of booth with a window, He shook her hand briefly and left her with- through which the man within seemed to be out a glance. Nanny slipped undiscovered doing brisk business. Nanny understood into her own room and when she had closed nothing except that she and Peter had both the door stood motionless in the darkness for backed a horse named Blackberry, whose a blind interval. Then she roused herself prowess was to be transmitted from telephone with a long sigh. to blackboard. The crowd interested her far “She is worth six of me, that Lucia," she more than her stake-shabby derelicts, cheap said, half aloud. “She is the right person for sports, vapid, unwashed young men, a stout, him. I'm not. And he knows it. But just overdressed woman who breathed audibly as the same”- she caught her breath sharply, the writing on the wall progressed, a little “I can be anything on earth, if he cares! If bent Italian who scowled so heavily at Peter I can have him, I promise by everything that that she drew his attention to it. binds promises that I will give him what she “Oh, yes, Joe hates me all right,” he said would give.” Her hands caught and clung indifferently. “I bore witness against him to each other. “Oh, there's nobody like in a police court not long ago. Do you him!” she whispered. realize that Blackberry has drawn the rail?” He was his usual alert, kindly, impersonal “Too bad,” said Nanny vaguely, and re- self when he came for her early the next flected without understanding his sudden afternoon. She would have been cast down smile. Her eyes went back to the Italian, but for the tired lines about his eyes and who was whispering vehemently to the man mouth. in the booth with a quick jerk of his head “You said you wanted an adventure," he toward Peter. She heard the answer: reminded her warningly as they set out. “Oh, he's all right, Joe; he's with us. I “So I do.” know him like a book. Don't you worry.” “Very well. Do you know what a pool- The words recalled to her with a start of room is?” fright the reason for their presence. For the “Something that is always being raided by moment she had blessedly forgotten the the police.” coming raid. Suspense was always as in- He laughed. “Exactly. It is a place tolerable to her as bodily pain; moreover, she where people bet on the races, and is contrary felt ashamed, as if she were meanly conspiring to the law. Now can you guess?" against these unsuspecting waifs and strays. “We are to see a raid!” After that, every opening of the door, every “We are. I don't as a rule have anything movement of the crowd, brought a cold wave to do with the police--it would hamper me; of apprehension. The excitement before the but I have an intimate at headquarters and blackboard grew more intense, there were he put me on to this. Whoever is caught, you muttered exclamations, now and then a know, we sha'n't be. That is all arranged. smothered cheer, but her blurred senses could Only we shall have to dash for liberty as not take in what was written nor follow what briskly as anybody, for the sake of appear- was said; she could only wait in blind terror. ances. Does that meet your requirements?” She longed unspeakably to go away; but It so much more than met them that for the pride, and the fact that she was standing moment Nanny was appalled. All her joy in close beside Peter, kept her there, white but Peter was needed to keep her spirits up as outwardly composed. they turned to obscure back streets under a “Well, Blackberry wasn't among the also- soft gray sky of coming rain. rans, anyway,” said Peter. “Shall we try A commonplace brick house admitted them Morgana or- to what seemed to be merely a cheap restau- It was coming. Her strained senses divined rant. A little stealing excitement began to rather than heard scurry and confusion in lift Nanny above her inner repugnance to her the house below. surroundings as she followed Peter along a “O Peter!” she gasped, thrusting her passage and up a steep flight of back stairs, hand into his. At the top a youth threw back a door with a Through the door was flung a warning word of recognition for Peter. exclamation that seemed to explode like 236 Everybody's Magazine a bomb in the compact crowd, scattering it whispered. The hand on her knee was mutely into a dozen scrambling batches. Men took begging, and she put one of hers into it. desperately to the fire-escape and the passages “It isn't that I could not provide properly as heavy boots came trampling up with the for my wife," he went on presently. “God bold stride of the law. Peter whirled Nanny knows, I could—I could earn a good living through a side door and up a breathlessly any moment. But I have no right to. I steep Aight to an attic in the wake of a dozen have set myself to a piece of work; dearest flying. men and women. Up the ladder to the woman, I can't turn away from it. Can you roof they swarmed, swearing, panting, trip- understand?” The hand within his seemed ping, and stumbling. very small and cold, and he bent his cheek Rain was already pattering on the roof. to it. “The board and roof I could offer are They ran along it in crouching file between not fit for you, Nanny. I have fought it all lines of clothes ostensibly hung there to dry, out. Don't let us—" His voice faltered. and popped down like gophers through the “O Peter, they are fit,” she cried, sud- open scuttle-hole of the next house. Peter, denly finding her strength. “Don't you scrambling down, swung Nanny to her feet suppose I have fought it out, too? There beside him and they stood facing each other isn't one inch of your life too hard or too poor in the mellow brown dusk of an empty garret, or too ugly for me. I should not ask one thing breathless with laughter. Then the scuttle more. How can I make you believe me?" darkened, and Nanny saw the bent form of He had drawn away his hand and they con- the Italian for an instant against the gray sky. fronted each other through the brown dusk “Peter, look out!” she called with a swift in a silence broken only by the rain on the intuition of danger. She saw a quick swing roof while a flash of hope sprang up in his of Joe's arm as he flashed down the ladder, eyes, then died away again. and there was a sound of a blow, dull but “You think so now," he said sadly. ominous. Then he was swallowed down a “When it was too late—for God's sake, black opening, and Peter lay crumpled at Nanny, don't tempt me, don't make it too her feet. hard. Have you grown to like the sort of When Peter came drifting back from long surroundings where I must spend my life?”. reaches of darkness, he found himself lying "No." She paused, gathering herself to- in passionately tender arms, while a white gether for, one great effort. “Let me say face, wet with tears and wholly unconscious: everything, just once. Don't interrupt till I of them, bent over him. It was very good have finished, and then I won't say another He closed his eyes again with a deep breath of word, whatever you decide. No-I have to content and pressed his cheek closer to the be honest with you, I haven't grown to like soft shoulder that mothered him.' Then with your surroundings; I've only grown not to the realization of an ache in his head came care what I like or don't like. My little senses other unpleasant realizations. He drew him- have been swallowed up, not in—what did you self up somewhat giddily, propping himself call it?-my big sensibilities, but in you—in against the ladder, and attempted a smile. you. Ah, no one will ever give you a bigger love "Well, Joe got even,” he commented, feel than this—you can't let it go. And it wouldn't ing his head with cautious fingers. “Glad be a burden--I should be a wise lover, dear- he didn't use a knife.” est; only you have to see it all just this once. "I am afraid you are badly hurt.” Nanny's “Now listen. The promises of the marriage voice was helplessly unsteady. service will be so many wasted words from “Oh, no, thanks to you. I turned when me to you; I could no more help loving and you called out and the blow glanced. I shall honoring and obeying you than I could help be all right in a moment or two, if you don't breathing. But here is my real marriage vow mind waiting in this vile place." to you”-she was kneeling beside him, her “I don't mind anything on earth if you're hands clasped against her breast: “I, Anna, not hurt”; and she dropped her face into her solemnly and in the sight of God, dedicate hands. He watched her in silent distress for myself, my love, and my labor to your work. a moment. Then, as though he could bear it I promise to serve it both by deed and by no longer, he laid his hand on her knee. forbearance to the uttermost limit of my “Ah, Nanny, Nanny, why am I a vagabond strength, from this time forth and forever- and you a lady!” more. And thereunto I plight thee my “But I am not, I'm not any longer,” she troth.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, I FRIGHTENED, TORTURED, AND DESPERATELY ANGRY. know what it means, what it will cost-I am Her palms were pressed against his coat, not afraid! And you will go farther and her eyes lifted to his, all their dark fires ablaze faster because there is some one who believes at last. The white humility of his face was in you like this. Don't you see that? And if burned away in an answering flame. As he, ever I fail you, if I forget, you can say to me, bent toward her she crept into his arms, to You have broken your marriage vows and lie there very still while the summer rain beat vou must go away.' And I will go away and on the roof, taking unto itself for all their stay until I am worthy to come back. My lives a marvelous sound of heavily beating great love, isn't this—all?” hearts. 237 Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty? Being an Excursion into the Unknown By JAMES HUNEKER Author of "Iconoclasts-A Book of Dramatists," "Visionaries," etc. Illustrated with photographs of the principal winners of the state beauty contests conducted by newspapers TS there an American type hesitates in declaring his prefer- I of feminine beauty? The ences as to his mother's sex is question has been often asked, lost. We either view his judg- although never answered in a ments suspiciously or reject satisfactory manner. I frankly them outright. Consider the admit that I shall not make a present writer with a merciful, new attempt, for several rea- even pitying eye. He can swear sons; ' the principal one being that for him there are no ugly an inability to comprehend the girls; some are prettier than oth- meaning of the word "type.” ers. (This epigram was first This is not a quibble over its etymology; rather uttered in the praise of fire-water-alas!) a disbelief in any such thing. Old Flaubert Therefore he is precisely the kind of man who swore, when any one spoke of synonyms. should not write about feminine types. Each “There are no synonyms!” he grumbled. woman is of her own type. She is an indi- When we say of a woman that she is of a vidual entity. We did not have to wait for certain type of beauty we are only adopting Max Stirner to apprise us of this platitude. a formula of the lazy-minded. No two per- In America to disentangle the swarm of races sons are alike on our globe; yet for the sake of is a heavy enough task, without accounting for convenience we speak of racial type. It is a the innumerable specimens that fire the brains method of scientific stenography, invaluable to and blood of young men. Let us, taking our the ethnographer who deals in broad group- courage in our trembling hands, venture upon ings of the human race, but misleading for a rash undertaking. Let us forget the talk those students who see in each soul a distinct about types and utilize as a starting point a re- cosmos. And when you say “the American cent feminine manifestation in this country- type of beauty” you further complicate the the “most beautiful girl” contest started by question: admitting that there is a type, how the New York Sunday World and the Chicago hopeless it is to search for it in the whirlpool of Tribune. We may, peradventure, compass nationalities boiling over our continent. The our end by this elliptical, withal dangerous, American woman is recognized at once in Eu- route. rope because of her gowns and good looks. This is not the time to delve into antique Yet there are in America several women who tales of beauty "contests.” Doubtless there are neither “stylish” nor beautiful. What is were experiments made in this perilous game she, then, this American "type"? Is she a long before Paris awarded the apple; or be- product of Kentucky or must she hail from fore Phryne, a "one-woman show," provoked Baltimore? Does Chicago send her across the critical ardor of her judges on the sea the waters to dazzle British peers, or has strand. In a sense the medieval courts of love New York that monopoly? Perhaps the girl were beauty tournaments. And it is unneces- of the golden west! Perhaps the cerebral sary to recall the joyous deeds of derring-do, beauty from New England! Perhaps— ! the doughty feats of arms undertaken to vindi- But this fumbling at classification is a sure cate the tastes of gallant knights. All beauty sign of masculine weakness. The man who contests these, in a simple forthright style. It 238 Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty ? 239 yet remains for America to produce a newer that the photographs of the various winners version. The beauty contest by committee were acknowledged to be sufficiently lifelike. we have; why not let the readers of the I confess I prefer the old-fashioned beauty ubiquitous Sunday newspapers vote for their contests of St. Louis or New Orleans, of idea of feminine beauty? It would be an in- Vienna or Arles, where the woman, life size, spiring spectacle. It would prove that the radiant, smiling, vital, walks before the en- torch of the ideal, still alight, is being passed raptured eyes of the judges. At Arles, years down the corridor of the ages. It would be ago, I participated in a local contest and saw also a testimony to our highly developed ar some of the handsomest creatures in the tistic sense. What could be a more astonish- world, women who had by a miracle retained ingly easy way to solve the hitherto insoluble the Roman cast of features, the proud Roman problem—Who is the most beautiful girl?— bearing. Small in head, elastic of carriage, than to vote en masse on the question? Demo- wide-hipped, with sloping shoulders, they cratic institutions would be thereby vindicated, paraded in their poor finery like goddesses and Emerson, with his crude notions on the suddenly descended from the clouds; while subject of individual selection, taste and cul the men of the place, for the most part under- ture, would be completely confuted. sized and ugly, were wofully lacking in interest. But already the newspapers, assisted by Picture to yourselves this wholly human modern photography, have added one pro fashion of deciding such a momentous ques- gressive feature: they have made the beauty tion-and what can be more momentous for contest comprehensive. Beautiful girls all the human race than the beauty of women?- over the United States, from Gloucester to the transposed to America, and, in some intimate Golden Gate, were publicly invited to enter amphitheatre, where one would not have to use into this friendly competition. Their photo a celestial eyepiece to an opera-glass, let us graphs were begged and were forthcoming. assemble five hundred or a thousand beauti- Not portraits in oil nor black-and-white, but ful women. Pagan as is the proceeding, it the tale-telling photograph. Nor were full would attract an audience bigger than a lengths as welcome as vignettes or profiles. Wagner music-drama at Bayreuth. Then Everything that might tempt or mislead the let an ideal jury be selected to render judg- guileless committees astray from Draconian ment, a jury composed of master painters judgments was sternly suppressed. and writers who are noted for their predi- After the signal had been flashed over the lection in matters feminine, genuine critics land the response was cataclysmic. Letter and admirers of the sex. Henry James, carriers staggered under gigantic burdens. George Moore, D'Annunzio, Paul Bourget, Special mail deliveries were inaugurated. Paul Hervieu-all féministes, as the literary Wailings were heard at midnight in rural and slang has it; John Sargent, Boldini, Zuloaga, metropolitan post-offices. It was like a blight, Zorn, Renoir, Degas, for the painters, six these tons of photographs in newspaper build- men who have interpreted the charms and the ings. Park Row was aghast when over forty defects of women of many climes, each ac- thousand cardboards were dumped on the cording to his temperament. And as fore- World sidewalks. The curiosity of men was man of this extraordinary jury, President stimulated. Were there forty thousand beau- Theodore Roosevelt, conservator of the hearth tiful girls in New York State? And if so— and cradle. (Little danger of the anemic where? The ungallant query never reached woman being a winner under his eagle gaze; the types, but without being put under oath, Brunhildes and Walt Whitmanic amazons some of the juries on selection timidly ad would have a sure chance of victory.) Are mitted that-that-well, that all of the forty- you doubtful that the result would be mag- odd thousand were not peerless beauties. nificent? What a standard would be set for Naturally I am not responsible for this state- future generations. No woman could pass ment, nor do I credit it. Henry James without having her speech and The chief question is: How can you judge deportment subjected to keen examination. a woman by a photograph? No hesitation was What subtleties of temperament would not shown, as these portraits prove. Setting aside George Moore demand! D'Annunzio would as slanderous openly expressed hints that a not be satisfied unless there were a dash of photograph may be so retouched, manipu- the exotic; while Bourget and Hervieu could lated and altered that a mother would not pass no one woman if she did not possess so- recognize her daughter, it must be conceded cial grace and moral perfection. The paint- 240 Everybody's Magazine ers would be less concerned with things below er; the sexes are perfectly poised. (It is the the surface; for them, and rightly too, beauty man of the twentieth century who, trembling- is only skin deep. Sargent would see that his ly, makes this assertion; a hundred years ear- selections were big, handsome, florid; Boldini, lier the woman was the claimant—thanks to that they were capricious and chic; Zuloaga, the courageous Mary Wollstonecraft God- that they were brunettes with coal-black hair, win.) The greater variational tendency of sparkling eyes, and the indolent swing of the man has made our civilization what it Seville; Zorn, that they were massive, broad- is. Woman is more precocious, more rapid bosomed, bucolic Junos; Renoir, that they in growth, and her development is arrested were melting, luscious, dazzling in hue; Degas earlier. As Ellis says: "The subjugation of would search for character, for the clean- nature by man has often practically involved limbed, vivacious, wiry woman whose very the subjugation, physical and mental, of meagerness reveals special beauties. And women by men. The periods of society most Theodore Roosevelt, swinging his presiden- favorable for women appear, judging from tial club, would cry aloud: “You have, all the experiences of the past, to be somewhat of you, but selected the American woman. She primitive periods in which the militant ten- is the composite of all your types. The Ameri- dency is not strongly marked. Very militant can woman wins the universal prize. Let there periods and those so-called advanced periods be peace!” The millennium would occur soon in which the complicated and artificial prod- after this event. ucts of the variational tendency of men were How barbarously remote seems the mascu held in chief honor, are not favorable to the line attitude of Gavarni, who responded to freedom and expansion of women. Greece Goncourt's question whether he ever really and Rome, the favorite types of civiliza- understood a woman: “Woman is quite im- tion, bring before us emphatically masculine penetrable, not because she is deep, but be states of culture. Morgan has remarked that cause she is hollow.” Goncourt capped this the fall of classic civilization was due to cruel remark by stating that “there are no the failure to develop women. But women women of genius; the women of genius are never could have been brought into line with men.” Such examples of feminine genius as classic civilization without transforming it Sappho, Erinna, Hypatia, Mrs. Browning, entirely. ... The hope of our future civiliza- Christina Rossetti, St. Teresa, Madame de tion lies in the development in equal freedom Staël, George Sand, Jane Austen, Charlotte of both the masculine and feminine elements and Emily Brontë, George Eliot, Duse, Miss in life. ... In the saying with which Goethe Herschel, Mrs. Somerville, Sonia Kovalevsky, closed his ‘Faust' ('The woman-soul leadeth Constance Naden, Berthe Morisotto men- us upward and on,') lies a biological verity tion a few-refute Schopenhauer's claim that not usually suspected by those who quote it." women are the unesthetic or unscientific sex. But what has all this to do with the Ameri- Yet even to-day Tertullian's description of can type of beauty? Everything. America woman as janua diaboli still persists. It was is the field in which will be harmoniously ad- the medieval idea. justed the differences of das Ewig-Weibliche If Lombroso by a series of tests tried to and the eternal domineering male. Woman is prove that woman was man's inferior in sen- not inferior to man but different from him, as sibility (her capacity for enduring suffering Stendhal would say. Nevertheless the two being construed as a tactile deficiency, not sexes are slowly approaching. The man of to- as superior personal bravery), in hearing, see- day is more feminine than his predecessors; ing, touching, tasting-in the perception of that is, he is more gentle, civilized; while the odors she was allowed not to be man's inferior woman, casting away old-fashioned encrust- -Professor Jastrow demonstrated almost the ing prejudices, is more masculine; i. e., she is opposite. The time has gone by, and forever, not only more athletic in her tastes than her when man can call woman "undeveloped grandmother-she is mentally broader and man.” Women are nearer to children than firmer in her judgments. (Some day she will men; but do not let us forget that the child be so far evolved” that she will be charitable represents a higher degree of evolution than to her own sex.) The franker association of the adult; for, as Havelock Ellis puts it, “the the sexes has proved tonic to the woman, re- progress of the race has been a progress in fining to the man. These are schoolboy youthfulness.” It is, nevertheless, absurd to truisms, but they will always stand quotation. speak of the superiority of one sex over anoth- And America, as a vast and roaring emigra- Photograph by Adeline De Lux, Denver. Copyrighi, 1907, by the Post Printing and Publishing Co., Denver, Col. MISS MARGUERITE FREY, COLORADO. 241 242 Everybody's Magazine tional conflu- Irish descent, ence which of German catches and re- blood, an occa- tains peoplessional French- from every woman, a stray where, is also Italian, and, of an educational course, numer- center never ous representa- ending in its tives of the labors. Semitic race. Women from Norwegian, Italy, women Swede, Dane Photograph by linasuy. Copyright, 1907, by the Boston llerald Co. MISS M. E. SYLVAIN, Photography i huse, Copyright, 1907, by the Salt Lake Tribune. MISS NETTIE B. CROWTHER, UTAH. NEW ENGLAND. Copyrighi, 1907, by the Press Publishing Co., New York. MISS ETHEL MCDONALD, NEW YORK from Hungary, the Russian woman who treads the steer- age deck barefoot and the woman who hails from Scan- dinavia; the Hebrew and the Slav, Huns, Croats, Czechs, Servians; also women from Ireland, Germany, Spain, France, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, Finland, and England-they all come here, and in a day, a week, a month, a year, are transformed. They are become American women. Twenty-five years ago you could walk the streets of New York and note women of steered westward; you can see their ruddy-cheeked, faxen- haired descendants in the middle West, in Wisconsin and adjacent states. There were few Italians in New York as compared with the large and increasing popula- tion of to-day. The Slavic army was just beginning to stir; now it is covering the land locust-like. Blonde women (real blondes) were far from rare; a careless ob- server can see at the present that American women in pig- MISS PEARL SEBOLT, CLEVELAND. mentation are becoming Photogrph by Bakudy. Berter. Copyright, 1007, by The Cleveland Leader. Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty ? 243 darker. Up in New England, out in certain parts of the West, the thin, nervous, plain- featured, earnest, un- derfedand overworked female was in the ma- jority. Her voice reached us across picket fences, her hand was in every pie. Above all, she sang in church on Sundays! When Mr. James and Mr. Howells began to write of her she was already va nishing. Where has she gone? You encounter iso- lated specimens to- day; and her feminine contemporaries make Photograph by Charles (. Smith. Copyright, 1907, by Buffalo Times. MISS PEARL MEYER, BUFFALO. conscience. Every decade is adding its quota of derange- ment of the normal national woman-as we once saw her. What has become of this average American woman? Where is the waist of yester-year? Women's hands and feet are larger; the skeletal for- mation is said to be bigger. They are not afraid of the winds that tan, the sun that freckles. They motor and golf; they swim, row, wres- tle. They play Chopin, de- spite all these things- mirabile dictu! They stand the strain of col- lege study, and there seems to be no marked diminution in the birth rate. They are taller, broader of chest, and their eye is as soft as their mother's (for the happy chap, of course). Is there an American type? It would seem So, after these state- ments. Unluckily for the statistician, the same girl may be seen to-day in Germany, in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Italy, Austria. North- ern women are of splendid physique. The truth is that the feminine movement is world-wide. I have seen the supposed languid Italian women swim, fence, ride bicycles and horses. Play tennis with a young German woman in Berlin and remark her supple wrist, her energetic manner of exclaiming “Love!” No, robustness is not the key to that riddle we call “the American type.” Isn't it rather her calm attitude toward the facts of creation that makes her distinctly American? We are sick of Photograph by Stein. Copyright, 1907, by the Sentinel Co., Milwaukee, Photograph by Montrose. Copyright, 1907, by The Columbus Dispatch. MISS FLORENCE CLURE, COLUMBUS. Photograph by Hansbury. Copyright, 1907.by The Philadelphia Inquirer. MISS CARRIE L. SHAW, PHILADELPHIA. MISS GABRIELLA WORSLEY, WISCONSIN (First Prize). 244 Everybody's Magazine hearing that she wears her clothes better than ica. A quarter of a century ago, or a half all the world; that all the world envies and century, the German Hebrews were in the imitates her. What availeth it if a woman majority of emigrants; to-day it is the Russian- garb becomingly and sport a vacuous mind? Polish. Haggard, persecuted, of miserable physique, exploited even now on the East Side, nevertheless they struggle toward the light. They educate their children. They develop their artistic gifts —who knows? they may be the artistic leaven in the huge loaf of prosperous American Philistinism. The children of the men who reached our shores poor and ambitious a few dec- ades ago may be seen at the Saturday theater matinées, at piano recitals, Wagner operas, and picture galleries. They are dressed like Parisiennes, but their eyes and coloring are of the East. Their children will not be puritanic. America will profit, has profited by this exotic strain; art has been bene- fited. In this conglomerate we recognize Italian, Semitic, Celt, Slavic, little English or French, much Scandinavian. Where is the American type? Ask a cen- tury hence. The original Yan- kee man and woman, the descen- dants of those who fought in the Revolution, will soon be as ex- tinct as thedodo. Even the direc- tory is losing its familiar Ameri- MISS MARTHA A. PROUTY, MASSACHUSETTS. can names. Some day there may be a Japanese president. Whether it is the climate, or the tradition C old-blooded physicians say that mankind of independence (which ruins in forty-eight is as old as its arteries. The regulation hours after landing the best servants in the aphorism is, that a man is as old as he feels, world), or the mental training in our schools, a woman as she looks. In America this certainly the American woman does not think could be thus amended: a woman is as old in the same way as the women of other races. as her figure, a man as old as his eyes; the She reads the newspapers more frequently. advent of fat in the one and the absence of Mr. James questions her pronunciation; but fire in the other, tell tales of the approaching she continues to discuss every problem of end. Any verdict that we might be disposed creation with unfailing volubility. to pass upon the faces of the two dozen and As to her outward appearance, we believe more women of the National Beauty Contest that she will approximate more to the Slavic is balked by the fact that we see only their and the Italian in fifty years than to Anglo- faces. But they are a comely lot of young Saxon or Celt. But there is the solid founda- women, the majority from the so-called tional support of Teutonicand Dutch-health, “middle class” of life, therefore the salt of sanity, common sense, thrift. More marvel- our country. Many of them are said to ous still is the racial conquest of the Semitic. work for their bread; but they do not betray In no country have Hebrew physical peculiar- this by any meek or lowly airs. Several are ities been so profoundly modified as in Amer- married. Almost every style of girl is repre- Photograph by Litchfield Studio, Arlington, Mass. Copyright, 1907, by The Boston Herald Co. Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty ? 245 sented. The New York phia girl is a vision, sure- miss has wide-open eyes of ly born south of Market wonder—at least, in the Street; while the girl from photograph; there is the San Francisco wears "an girl with the exquisite pro- air of combed resignation” file, and Jane Hading hair; -as Maurice Hewlett has a Maxine Elliott girl gazes it. She has also the strange with eloquent dark eyes; air that Ethel Barrymore there is a farmer's daughter made popular. Is the Salt from Ohio who looks like a Lake City girl representa- Newport aristocrat; grave tive—she of the Edna May girls, languorous girls with coiffure? What of the Co- tip-tilted noses, girls that hasset beauty with the swan are intellectual, girls with neck and patrician pose! the eyes of princesses, girls If the St. Louis girl does who might be Perditas- not go on the stage, then one has the delicate, pure hair and eyes and oval face profile of Mary Anderson- count for naught. New a Chicago girl who has Copyright, 1907, óy The San Francisco Call. Hampshire does not look studied Ibsen, maternal Yankee. St. Paul looks as girls and saucy—what man- if reared in New York. ner of girl is not present Again are we bewildered in ihis medley of maidenhood and matri- by the variety, by the evidences of social monial ambitions? Sadie Martinot of ten adaptability. The American woman is a years ago seems to be here; the Philadel- social evolutionist. To speak plainly, how- Photograph by Bushnell. MISS HAZEL THARSING, CALIFORNIA. Photograph by Rinehart. Copyright by Omaha Daily News. MISS MAE BOVEE, NEBRASKA. Photograph by Rosch. Photograph by Rembrandt. Copyright, 1007, by Publishers: George Knapp & Co. (St. Louis Copyright, 1907, by Publishers: George Knapp & Co. (St. Louis Republic.) Republic.) MISS JEANNETTE WILSON, MISSOURI. MRS. EUGENE H. SCHLANGE, MISSOURI. (First Prize.) (Second Prize.) ever, there are few in the a happier balanced tem- list that suggest distinction; perament. She is poetic, American women are gen- she is sane. I once said erally too strenuous to that her dimple—that cleft aim for that highest prize in her finely modeled chin which is something more —was her destiny. This than culture, something sadly impertinent remark less than beauty. Few, I withdraw—it is the pro- too, show eyelids, which, mulgation of her rare voice as Alice Meynell declares, that is her destiny; that give the real eloquence to mellow, musical speech of the glance. “There are hers in the accents of no windows of the soul, which there is no spoor of there are only curtains.” America provincial. Her And I should have liked voice is not so poignant as to see the hands, the true Duse's, but it is moving index of character; the and expressive. Nazimova hands, which are so sig- stands before you the Photograph or Charles H. Allen, Copyright, 1907, by the evening Neus Association. epitome of the Semitic- MISS MILDRED A. BALDWIN, MICHIGAN. we cover all except them Slavic. She is a tiger cat and our face. And why in the leash of art. A the absence of ears? How- hundred nuances are at soever, why look a gift her control; she plays up- photograph askance? on her temperament as Three pictures stand on does a violinist on his my desk. One is of Duse, strings. She vibrates, she taken at Genoa; one of rages, she is cruel, sleek, Julia Marlowe; the third subtle, never tender. of Alla Nazimova. The These three women are for- first is the mater dolorosa eign born: Italy, England, of our days; in her features Russia. They are very un- is embodied the suffering American. Yet I am not of highly constituted wom- afraid to write that they an, for whom existence is might have been, all three, like an open wound; the born here and accepted as woman with nerves and Copyright, 1907, by the Sentinel Co., Milwaukee. American “types,” so cos- heart. Julia Marlowe is MISS NELLIE HUNT, WISCONSIN. (Second Prize.) mopolitan is our land. home and Photograph by Garrell. 246 Is There an American Type of Feminine Beauty? 247 That most men when writing of women be- wore regal shabby robes. She sang Chopin's tray an obtuseness almost monumental, I have “Maiden's Wish” in a quavering, sweet, true helped to demonstrate in the foregoing pages. voice that brought tears to one's eyes. She Consequently I shall not answer the very per- tinkled with a still small touch a Field Photograph by Matsene. Copyright, 1907, by The Chicago Tribune Co. MISS DELLA CARSON, CHICAGO. tinent question: Which American girl do I admire the most in this bevy? Wild auto- mobiles shall not drag from me such a fatal admission; besides, it does not very much matter. The tact of omission I do not possess in things feminine. I recall an afternoon at Auteuil, near Paris, a few years ago, when I met some superannuated ladies and gentle- men, inmates of one of those benevolent fondations, in which France knows so well how to cloak offensive charity. The company was of noble origin, though decayed because of fortune's ill favor. Among the rest was a marquise, a Polish dame, with lovely white hair and brilliant eyes. She nocturne upon a pianoforte whose ivory keys looked as if they could exhale yellow sighs. She coquetted gently, with a touch of Polish evasiveness. She was adorable, though if she had smiled her face would have cracked like Rembrandt's “Hille Bobbe" at the Metro- politan Museum. Yet she was adorable, was this Diane de Poitiers of the nineteenth century. What fire, malice wit in the glance of her faded blue eyes! She was at least eighty. What a magically youthful heart she had! In America a woman's heart usu- ally grows old before her waist. And there you are! as that mas- ter metaphysician of fiction, Henry James, so often remarks. LAVIAFE THE SHIP DROVE THROUGH A SEA OF REARING HORSES, AND NAKED, SHRIEKING HUMANITY. -"77e Adenturer." 248 THE ADVENTURER By LLOYD OSBOURNE Joint Author with Robert Louis Stevenson of “ The Il’recker" and "The Ebb-Tide"; author of “Motormaniacs,” “ Baby Bullet,” etc. Illustration by L. A. Shafer SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS INSTALMENTS.-Lewis Kirkpatrick, by nature a wanderer and adventurer, is stranded in London. Hunting gloomily through the newspaper "want" columns, he comes upon a singular advertisement, signed “Desperate Enterprise," calling for well-educated young men inured to hardship and danger. Kirk applies; and after an anxious, hungry wait, receives an answer appointing an interview with a man wearing a green tie, at a Vienna bakery. Arrived there, he finds a Mr. Smith, who puts him through a stiff examination, and appoints a second meeting. On the following morning, Friday, Kirk presents himself at the designated house, where he passes a severe medical examination and, as the third test, receives a hun- dred-pound note, which he is to return intact on Monday afternoon. Having sewed the note into his waistcoat, he settles for the night on a park bench, for he has less than two shillings to live on. Here he falls asleep and is attacked by thieves, who kick him into insensibility just as the police arrive. He regains consciousness on Sunday in a hospital, and finds that his clothes have been given by mistake to a discharged patient named Betts. He at once seeks out Betts and bullies him into confessing that he had found the note and had spent eight pounds of it, which he could not repay. Kirk forces him to give up what he has, and then makes an appeal to Homer Kittredge, the literary lion of London, who willingly completes the hundred pounds. Triumphant, Kirk returns to Mr. Smith and is given a ticket to a port in the West Indies, but no clue to the nature of the “desperate enter- prise." Indeed, it is not until the day after reaching Port-ot-Spain t aching Port-of-Spain that he receives directions to proceed up the Orinoco. On the same boat with him is a Miss Westbrook whom Kirk had seen, disguised as a housemaid, at Mr. Smith's. Shortly after sailing she begs his protection, letting him understand that she is in some way con- nected with the mystery. An intimate comradeship, soon deepening to love on Kirk's part, is established between them, and lasts throughout the long journey by boat and wagon into the heart of South America. They are not separated until their arrival, on a dark night, at their destination, a sort of military camp called Felicidad. Before dawn, Kirk is up investigating, and at length finds out part of the long-guarded secret. For he comes upon an enormous, but uncompleted, land-ship, built of aluminum, and evidently designed to traverse the vast South American savannas. At the mess-tent, he learns that the ship is the property of a queer old American woman, and that the inventor and one of the leaders is Vera Westbrook's father. Kirk is put to work, and, becoming a favorite with the captain, is appointed second officer of the ship. Three days later, in the midst of a threatening storm, the “ Fortuna" sails. The same evening the men threaten to put back the ship if the object of the expedition is not revealed. Thereupon one of the leaders tells them they are bound for an ancient city in the ruins of which he himself, when a captive of the Indians, discovered a vast treasure in gold ingots. CHAPTER XVI (Continued) division of our profits. If Mr. Allen would kindly stop talking to Mr. Brice, I think my TON ZEDTWITZ took his seat amid labors would be facilitated. That's all right, 'new outbursts of cheering. The men, Mr. Allen! And those other gentlemen at in their enthusiasm, pressed forward and the back! Thank you. Well, I shall now crowded about him-clapping him on the outline roughly what we consider an equi- back, shaking his hands, and lustily vocif- table arrangement for all parties. First, there erating their good-will with lungs of brass. is a royalty of five per cent. due, by special It was some time before Westbrook, beating arrangement, to the government of Vene- his fist on the table for silence, was able to zuela. Strictly speaking, President Castro is make his voice heard above the din. not entitled to a penny, as Cassiquiare lies “Please, please," he protested. “Gentle- outside the Venezuelan frontiers, in a deba- men, come to order!” table territory claimed also by Brazil and The noise subsided. The men scrambled Colombia. But the Venezuelans have shown back to their former positions about the us great consideration, particularly in afford- mainmast, laughing and skylarking with ing us the free and unhampered passage of boisterous good nature. They were bub- our material. Second, the cost of the ex- bling over with high spirits, and were as un- pedition must be charged against the capital ruly as a pack of schoolboys. account. This cost is an immense sum, not “Now, gentlemen,” continued Westbrook, yet accurately defined, but it cannot be much “let us proceed to financial details. Doubt under half a million dollars. Deducting these less you will be interested in the proposed two items, twenty-five per cent. of the resi- 249 250 Everybody's Magazine due should go to Mrs. Poulteney Hitchcock; twenty-five per cent. to Dr. von Zedtwitz; and we shall apportion the remaining fifty per cent. as follows: To myself, fifty shares; to Captain Jackson, fifteen shares; to the first officer, Mr. Haines, and Mr. Crawshaw, chief engineer, each five shares; to the second officer, Mr. Kirkpatrick, three shares; to Mr. McCann and Dr. Phillips, each three shares; to all petty officers one and a half shares; to everyone else, one share. We shall give to the heirs of those who have died, or who may die, before the expiration of the expedition, one-half of the share that the de- ceased member would have been credited with. Should any officer or petty officer be disrated, he will receive the share due to his lower rank. We shall add together the total of the shares, and by this number divide the general sum at our disposal. In the event of our safe return, I propose, before the ac- counts be worked out accurately, to advance from my private purse ten per cent. of the amount approximately due to each man. In conclusion, let me say that I shall be happy to answer any questions.” “How about them fellows in Felicidad?” piped up some one. “What is there in it for them, mister?” “Oh, they will share just as we do. Did I not make that plain? It surely would not be right to penalize them, and we don't propose to do so. Any other question?” “May I speak?” asked Beale. “Why, certainly-go ahead.” “What's our guarantee that this arrange- ment will be lived up to? A verbal agree- ment doesn't count for a row of pins. Speaking for the lower deck, I think it ought to be put on paper, hard and fast.” "I neglected to say that of course this will be done,” said Westbrook, again rising to his feet. “Mr. McCann will take the matter in hand, and draw up the whole thing in the form of a contract. A copy of this, each one properly signed and witnessed, will be given to every individual on board. Nothing could be more businesslike than that, surely?”. There was a loud murmur of approval. “Well, it depends on how soon it's done,” objected Beale. “Mr. McCann has no watch to keep--why shouldn't he set to work to night?” "That's unreasonable,” replied Westbrook. “It will be done as soon as possible.” “Speaking for the lower deck," resumed Beale, “I— " But Westbrook angrily cut him short. “You're speaking only for yourself," he cried. “I believe the men will take my word for it, and show a little patience. Am I not right, gentlemen?” He was answered by a friendly roar that completely discomfited Beale. “Anybody else?” inquired Westbrook. “Only me," came a voice at the back. “Well, speak up, 'only me!” A little, pale man elbowed his way to the front. He was an ex-jockey named Weaver, a silent, melancholy creature, who used to snuffle audibly at the evening singsongs when- ever there were allusions to home and foam, or the letter that never came, or kindred tender subjects. “There's one thing that's been overlooked 'ere,” he said, in a high, squeaking voice. “We ’ave one person on board who ain't to get nothink, and I think it's a sin and a shame. It would be an everlasting reflection on our manhood if Miss Vera Westbrook was left out. I propose she share and share with us, and have her pretty name down with the rest. What say, mates?”. It was carried by hearty acclamation. “In the capacity of mascot to the ship!” exclaimed von Zedtwitz, his burly form shak- ing with merriment. “If the presence of a young and beautiful woman will not bring us lug, I know not (lacking the conventional goat) how we could get it. Gome, my dear, and bow your acknowledgment to these good friends of yours!” He went over to Vera, and offering her his arm, brought her to the head of the table. Blushing furiously, and yet delighted and complimented, she stood there beside the stalwart German, inclining her head to the storm of applause that greeted her. And thus in harmony and good-will the great meeting terminated. “But we must keep an eye on that fellow Beale,” said Westbrook. CHAPTER XVII It was a bleak prospect that met their eyes the next day. The gale had blown itself half out, but the weather-sky was still dark and lowering; and over the prairie were expanses of dirty yellow water that promised hard going. It was a scene of acute loneli- ness and desolation, depressing to spirits not yet recovered from the discomforts of the The Adventurer 251 previous day. Every one was tired and sore, the Fortuna was soon moving under both and disinclined for another jolting. But the foretopsails, and the foresail, but slowly. wind was too good to lose, and the orders Indeed, she acted so sluggishly that the main- were to get away promptly at eight o'clock. sail was next hoisted, with a considerable It was drawing toward this hour, and the improvement of her speed. But her wheels afterguard were all assembled on the after- sank deeply into the miry ground, and she deck to view the start, when a seaman came toiled and floundered along at a bare eight aft and tipped his cap to Jackson. miles an hour. Later on, as the sun came “Stowaway on board, sir!” he said, out and the going hardened, she picked up a grinning. little, but this was in turn offset by the decline “Stowaway!” roared the captain. “What of the wind. With less speed, however, there do you mean?” was less motion, and the violent gyrations of "He's just come out of the hold, sir.” the day before were succeeded by a lumbering “Send him aft at once!” unsteadiness that was easier on the nerves. There was a stir forward, and almost the At six bells they hove to in order to take the whole crew advanced in a body, escorting in sun, using an artificial horizon, and at noon their midst the most woebegone figure im- another stop gave them their exact position. aginable. It was St. Aubyn, dirty and di- They had run 184 miles, or, as the crow flies, sheveled, with his monocle forlornly stuck in more than half the way to Cassiquiare, a won- his eye. But weak as he was he bore himself derful performance all things considered. with bravado, and joined, shamefacedly, in But at four bells of the afternoon watch their the laughter that broke out at the sight of him. fine progress was suddenly cut short. A “What's the meaning of this insubordina- shallow dried-up watercourse forced them to tion, sir?" haul their wind, and for several miles they “Oh, piffle,” returned St. Aubyn, with the skirted it, looking for a passageway. At most ingratiating impudence. “I wasn't go- length, finding none they dared to attempt, ing to be left behind, captain. I crawled in and reluctant to put the Fortuna about after among some barrels, and had a pretty nasty all this wasted distance, they squared away time, I can tell you! Some filthy stuff ran out again and stopped short at the likeliest look- all over me, and cases dropped on my head.” ing place. Sail was taken in, and preparations “And so we are to be burdened with a sick were made to kedge across. This was a most man?” exclaimed the captain. “You are in tedious operation. As there were no rocks to no state to stand all this, and you know it. make the kedge fast to, a pair of giant crow- A nice fix you've got us all into with your bars had to be driven into the ground to thoughtless selfishness!” afford the necessary purchase. To these wire “Oh, don't be hard on me," pleaded St. cables were carried from the forward winch; Aubyn.. “I'm not going to be any trouble to and when all was ready, with men stationed anybody-and-and I feel better already.” at the brakes to guard the descent, the enor- His white, drawn face gave the lie to his mous hull was worked forward foot by foot. assertion. In this manner the Fortuna was laboriously “And what if you die?” bellowed Jackson. drawn across the declivity and piloted over the “I ask you that, sir. I ask you that! What lumpy ground beyond-length by length- if you die?” the crowbars driven in, and dug out again, “Oh, that's all right,” said St. Aubyn. eight separate times. It was gruelling work “I'll take my chances. I don't want any fuss for the men and used up precious time. made over me even if I do. Throw me over- Once it seemed almost as though the great board, and keep on.” wheels would stick forever in the mire. For The quiet sincerity of his speech made those not actively engaged in the task, it was even the captain relent. Such pluck com- most agreeable to escape from the confine- pelled admiration. ment of the ship and stroll about, watching “All right; go forward. I'll send the doctor the strange spectacle. Mrs. Hitchcock flitted to you." here and there with a camera, taking snap- The poor fellow saluted and walked away. shots; and Vera, escorted by Dr. von Zedtwitz and the paymaster-an animated little party The winches were both set in action, re of three-boldly walked on in advance, with lieving the men of the hard labor of hoisting something of the sensation of abandoning a the sails. The reefs were shaken out, and steamer in mid-ocean. 252 Everybody's Magazine By half past four they were under sail again only at the last extremity. It would be to and on their course. With the extraordinary their everlasting disgrace, he declared with aptitude of human beings for adjusting them- flashing eyes and shaking hands, to massacre selves to circumstances, they were beginning these wretched savages on mere suspicion. to feel at home on the Fortuna, and in some After a heated debate in which the doctor, degree to make themselves comfortable. with the dreary monotony of another Cato, Fear had disappeared. Attempts were made kept reiterating, “Mow them down! Mow to read, to play cards, to talk, to take naps. them down!”-it was finally decided to offer A concertina started up forward. Clothes the enemy the Fontenoy privilege of the first were hung out to dry. Hildebrand, with his shot. sleeves rolled up, was valiantly tackling a “In that case their blood will be on their mountain of dough, and filling innumerable own heads," said Westbrook. little tin coffins with what was to become Afterward, on deck, the German drew bread. Crawshaw, on orders from the cap- Kirk to one side. tain, was getting the covers off the automatic “My dear boy,” he said, “mage not the guns, and having them polished and oiled. mistake of underestimating these fine people Order was slowly emerging out of chaos. Mr. Westbrook gonsiders so highly. I have The routine of ship-life was asserting itself. refrained with care from dwelling on their There was a noticeable cheerfulness. Every- numbers and ferocity, lest our friends might body was "shaking down.” have hesitated at blunging into such a hornets' Late in the afternoon there was a rush to nest. But if the pinch ever comes, remem- the side to watch a herd of antelope. They ber”—and here he lowered his voice—“self- were at a considerable distancea blurred, preservation is the first law. You have more dark mass, tailing out to mere specks—and to lose than any of us. Ach, I am not blind- as their ways diverged the Fortuna soon lost there are other brizes than bars of gold- them over the horizon. Later still, the look- Kirgpatrick, you listen to nothing, but open out reported smoke to the southwest-a on them with everything you have. And I significant reminder that they were in a say this particularly to you, because " country of wild men as well as of wild animals. The guttural voice sank still lower. It was only a thin, faint spiral of blue, but “Did you notice Jagson's face when we it caused a great stir on the Fortuna. Rifles were talking there below?" and cartridge-belts were served out to the “Why, IM ". watch. The hoppers of the machine guns “Kirgpatrick, he's a coward!” were filled with ammunition. Each officer received a revolver, with instructions to carry Thursday, the third day out, found them it constantly, night and day, strapped to his becalmed. The gale had blown itself out waist. Extreme vigilance was enjoined; and there was every indication of settled and and at a council of war, held in the main seasonable weather. The sky was blue and cabin, a rough scheme was drawn up for without a cloud; the sun, as it slowly rose fighting the ship, should the necessity un- into the zenith, made the air as oppressive fortunately arise. Gun crews were appointed; as a furnace. The morning passed without marksmen were told off to the foretops and even a whisper of wind. Under rough awn- maintops; every man on board was to know ings, fore and aft, the Fortuna lay or sat in exactly what he was to do, and where he was lethargic discontent. It was intolerably hot; to go at the call to general quarters. the horizon shimmered with heat; the metal At this meeting something of a clash took deck blistered the feet, and reflected the place between Mr. Westbrook and Dr. von glare of the heavens above. The whole ship Zedtwitz. The latter turned out to be a seemed to glow like an oven. Toward half regular fire-eater, and the memory of his past three a few catspaws rustled through the three years' captivity made him merciless. awnings. The Fortuna began to come to Shoot to kill was his motto; and he derided, life. Then a light breeze sprang up, fitful with clumsy sarcasm, Westbrook's plea for and refreshing--the lightest of trades. It forbearance. But the inventor stood his gradually strengthened, encouraged to do so ground, and insisted hotly that not a life by the sibilant slir-i-i-i of the seafaring con- should be taken unless in absolute self-de- tingent. The ensign fluttered out bravely at fense. Kirk had never seen the old man so the main as the captain mounted the bridge. roused. The order to fire was to be given The men eagerly sought their stations. The The Adventurer 253 Hiti HIHIHIHIHIHI grumble of the winches was heard, and the of range. But they halted within a mile of creaking of gear and blocks. Sail was made. the Fortuna, and in fancied security boldly Outer jib and flying jib were all got out for gazed at the monster that had invaded their the first time. The square sails were hoisted fastnesses. They were mounted on scrubby and braced. The great fore-and-aft sails little horses, and two of them carried rifles, filled and bellied. But all to no purpose. which, however, they showed no inclination The Fortuna would not budge a foot. Stay- to use. Few though they were, there was sails were run up, and the club-maintopsail- something formidable in their appearance. but still she stuck. Their glistening bodies, their matted hair, It was Kirk who discovered the cause. He their bows and arrows, their dark, sullen ran aft and found that one of the brakes was mien-all were disquieting. Von Zedtwitz set. Hurriedly releasing it, he had the satis- declared that they were a patrol from a larger faction of feeling the ship begin to move. body, and urged the utmost circumspection. But it was at a snail's pace-a bare three miles Indeed, if he had had his way, he would have an hour. In lumpy places it dwindled to turned one of the machine guns on the nine. even less. The Fortuna was a very poor His conviction was borne out by their be- sailer in light airs. She rolled along pon- havior. As the ship got under way they derously, threatening again and again to trailed after her persistently, refusing to be come to an absolute standstill. By easing shaken off. Whether at a walk, a canter, the sheets and bearing up a point or two she or a gallop, they kept doggedly behind her, was made to pick up somewhat, but the gain altering their pace and their direction to suit thus achieved was hardly counterbalanced by hers. At noon, when the wind died down, the loss of direction. She traveled faster, but they made no attempt to come closer, but added little to her southing. By sundown, dismounted, and huddled together on the when the wind sank, the dead reckoning ground. As the breeze sprang up again, showed that she had made only about seven they resumed the pursuit, tirelessly following miles—a pitiful advance when compared with the Fortuna as she tacked across the prairie. the actual amount of ground covered. Late in the afternoon, when the wind had Friday was better. The wind was fresher, again failed and the Fortuna lay becalmed and she was enabled to lie up closer to it. for the night, they circled around her several During the morning she averaged five knots, times, and then, galloping away to the south- with occasional spurts of seven and eight. ward, finally disappeared over the horizon. She was pressed to the utmost, and was given “Marg my words," said Von Zedtwitz, “to- every stitch they could raise. The trades morrow there will be drouble!.” were almost due east, and seldom veered more But his forebodings seemed unlikely to be than half a point into the south. The helms- borne out. The breaking day showed the men were told to steal every bit they could to vast expanse as lonely as the sea. From the windward; and as there was no leeway to crow's-nest the searching glasses revealed not contend with, every yard counted. But it a sign of life-nothing but desolate immensity, was anxious work, for she was very cranky, rimmed by sky. By ten they were zigzagging and had to be carefully nursed. She acted to the south with a stiffish breeze, and log- well in stays, however, and swung around ging a good nine. There was every pros- smartly as the helm was put down. A good pect of a splendid run, and a general exhil- place had always to be chosen for this aration animated the ship. She bowled maneuver, for it would never have done to along with a dip and a swing that made it risk her in the hummocks. They were learn- impossible to keep one's feet without sup- ing her ways now, and could forecast her port; but little thought was taken of such behavior with some certainty. The labor of discomfort, since it was always in proportion sailing her was consequently less harassing, to the speed attained. The harder she was though it was still arduous enough. pressed, the bumpier and more violent was Saturday was remarkable for their first the motion. It was all the helmsmen could sight of the savages that Dr. von Zedtwitz do to hold her on her course, and at times feared so profoundly. At dawn, the watch the backlash of the wheels flung them off had been alarmed by the tramping of horses their feet. beside the ship; and with a couple of pistol- Five bells had hardly struck, when Haines, shots had dislodged a band of nine naked who was conning the ship from the foretop, Indians who had forthwith scampered out reported: “Horsemen on the port bow!” 254 Everybody's Magazine This electrifying intelligence caused a great compactly massed, and plunging on their commotion. The men ran to quarters; the wild ponies as though ready to dart on her covers were stripped off the guns; rifles were flank. Cries, yells, and the pounding of served out from the chart-house. The cap- hoofs vied with the clatter and bang of the tain sent aft for Westbrook, Mrs. Hitchcock, enormous hull as she swept on with an earth- Dr. von Zedtwitz, and Kirk; and a hurried shaking rush. Kirk felt his hair rising be- consultation was held on the bridge. The neath his cap; he seemed to have forgotten question was eagerly debated as to what they how to breathe; it was frightful to think of ought to do. It was decided to hold on, and plunging through all that flesh and blood. ascertain the number of the savages before As in all moments of excessive tension, his eye going about. In the meanwhile, Haines took in some pictures with an extraordinary kept the speaking-tube busy.. vividness—Westbrook, with his white hair "Raising them fast. disheveled, crouching over his gun—the “They're separating into two bodies as captain's face, withering with terror-a couple though to intercept us. of men scrambling for cartridges that had “Can't say how many—but there must be been spilled from a canvas bucket. hundreds. The savages scattered pell-mell to open a “They're opening out into a fan. lane for the Fortuna to pass. The ship drove “Yes-rifles—lots of them. Can see them through a sea of rearing horses, and naked, quite plainly.” shrieking humanity-an avalanche of canvas Even from the bridge a dim, dark line was and metal, bristling with death. There was becoming visible in front. Then specks a flit-flit of little arrows. Kirk, with wonder, tumultuously moving like a herd of wild ani- saw some sticking in the mast. He pulled one mals. Then unmistakable horses with naked out of his coat. He felt the whiz of others riders, walling the horizon. past his ears. The man beside him fell on Westbrook sent word to Vera to go below, his knees, and then rolled over, twitching and then coolly descended the ladder to take convulsively. charge of the forward port gun. His last But there was no time to think of him. On. words to Jackson were: “Don't fire unless either hand the savages, in hundreds, were you have to.” galloping beside the ship, and straining to The captain was looking very pale and keep pace with her. Patter, patter, patter helpless, and he only nodded in reply. Mrs. came the little arrows. Then shots, fewer, Hitchcock, with an old bonnet tilted on one but more deadly, the fellows rising in their side of her head, was almost dancing with saddles, and aiming with deliberation. Up excitement, and loudly pooh-poohed the no- till then the Fortuna had made no reply, but tion of seeking safety. Von Zedtwitz, with now Westbrook's gun opened with an ear- a very grim air, was examining the sights of splitting crash. The others followed, belching a rifle that had been handed up to him. He flame. The deck shook with reverberations, had a three years' account to settle with the and an acrid smell of powder filled the air. Piapocos, and he wore an air of somber sat- Fore and aft, every rifle was cracking furi- isfaction. Kirk was holding to the weather- ously. It seemed as though nothing human rail, watching the swarming savages through could long withstand such a fusillade; and his glass. He distrusted Jackson, and dis- Kirk, looking back, saw their wake dotted trusted Haines, and was silently considering with horses and men, lying limp and bloody the situation. The danger steadied him, and on the receding ground. But yet there was no gave him an uplifting sense of responsibility. sign of the pursuit being abandoned. The At any moment he might become answerable torn ranks filled up. The great horde clung for the safety and lives of all on board. He on like wolves to either flank, and volleyed could see the men looking up at him, as men arrows and bullets with ferocity. always will when their leaders are to be Jackson stood there as though he were tested, and he tried to bear himself with made of stone. He did not answer when resolution and confidence. Kirk spoke to him. He did not even turn his The Fortuna was coming up hand over head. He gazed straight before him into hand, as though to drive right through the vacancy, and nothing could rouse him from a wide array before her. There were at least sort of paralysis of fear. Kirk snatched the eight hundred horsemen wheeling across her speaking-trumpet from his unresisting hand. track; and on her port bow was another mob, The men were firing wildly; and, except for The Adventurer 255 Westbrook's gun, and some of the sharp- Fortuna was a formidable antagonist, but shooters like von Zedtwitz and Bob St. Aubyn, becalmed what was she but a rather rickety were wasting a terrific amount of ammunition. fort? The Indians had not been beaten. In “Starboard gun, ahoy! Starboard gun, spite of their losses they had hung on with there!” desperation, and were as full of fight as ever. “Aye, aye, sir!” In a couple of hours the ship, stationary as a “Lower, lower! Aim lower! Lower, I rock, would again be attacked. With no tell you! wind to move her she would have to bear a “What's the matter down there, Beale? terrific onslaught with every point in the Why aren't you firing? Port gun aft, why enemy's favor. Machine guns and all, she aren't you firing?” would be hard put to it—with less than fifty A man came running up to say that it was men—to withstand a horde of nigh a thousand. jammed. No, the wind was the biggest weapon they “Then pass the word for Crawshaw. Get possessed, and the poorest use they could put Crawshaw!--Hold on!” it to was to flee. “Yes, sir!” “Stand by to go about!” shouted Kirk. “Stop that jackass in the red shirt from The cheering ceased. Men stared at him shooting in the air." with open mouths, unable to believe that he “Very good, sir!” could mean to renew the combat. Such ap- It was hard to make the speaking-trumpet parent foolhardiness struck them dumb. heard above the din. There was a great “All hands to your stations!” deal of confusion--of purposeless running to His voice was so decisive that after an and fro—of conflicting orders from those who instant of hesitation there was a general had no right to give any. For a few minutes movement to obey. The note of resolution the ship was utterly out of hand. But Kirk and self-confidence was irresistible. rapidly brought back some degree of control. “Ready about! Above the pandemonium his resonant voice, “Round in the weather braces. Flatten in magnified by the speaking-trumpet, thundered the main-sheet there! Tend the jib-sheets!” forth his orders. He sent three men to the “Helms alee!” wheel to replace those that had fallen. He The great hull swung round with a bump eased the sheets to try to outdistance the and a crash, and paid off on the other tack. pursuit, and, finding that of no avail, ran up “Flatten in the head-sheets. Lively, boys, the club-topsail, and a couple of other kites. lively! Belay the lee-braces-haul taut the He ordered the wounded and dying to be weather-braces, trim in the main-sheet! carried amidships where the doctor could “All hands to quarters!” best serve them. He suppressed much ran The enemy was about half a mile distant, dom firing by those who did not know one and it could be seen that this unexpected end of a rifle from the other, and whose crazy maneuver of the Fortuna had thrown them antics were a menace to every soul on board. into confusion. A hoarse, low humming Crowded with every yard she could carry, rose from their midst, and for a moment Kirk the Fortuna gradually forged ahead of the hoped that this was a signal for their flight. foam-flecked horses and their panting riders. But, on the contrary, they stood their ground, The few that managed to keep her pace were and opposed a defiant front to the oncoming shot down. The rest, straggling out for a ship. Kirk aimed her at the place where mile, were little by little dropped behind they seemed thickest, at the same time order- Then, altogether losing heart, they drew rein, ing his men to hold their fire till every shot and sullenly watched their prey escape. could be made to tell. But Kirk's elation was short-lived. Amid Tense and breathless the gun crews stood the cheering and congratulations that cele- ready to open with their hail of death. A file brated their deliverance, his face alone failed of men were passing up ammunition from be- to reflect the universal joy. He knew they low, the supply in the chart-room having be- were bound soon to lose the wind; and even gun to run short. Here and there, the sharp- by squaring away to the westward, the best shooters, braced against the rigging, were that could be hoped for was a run of a dozen covering living targets with their rifles. Such miles. The battle would have to be begun of the wounded as had the strength to do so again in circumstances a thousandfold more were standing up, holding to what they could disadvantageous than before. Under sail the clasp. One, too weak even for this, managed 256 Everybody's Magazine to roll himself to the scuppers, and was see- him in the blue of the horizon. Unnerved ing as much as possible through a hawsehole. and shaken by the terrible ordeal, it was with Lurching and plunging, her great wheels spin- profound relief that he saw the battle-ground ning like those of a locomotive, the Fortuna fade and disappear. Though they might sped forward with ponderous velocity. The now have counted themselves secure from savages scattered to open a way for her as molestation, and could have camped in se- they had done before, but this time Kirk did curity where they were, there was, in every not shrink from harming them. Within fifty heart on board, a consuming eagerness to feet of the lane he put up his helm, and sent escape to another region. the Fortuna crashing through a mob of men The captain, whose corpse-like face had and horses. With her enormous headway never moved a muscle throughout the action, she ground through them with unimpaired and who had stood there as speechless and speed, jolting violently, and reddening her inert as a wooden figure, now slowly recovered wheels with blood. Even as she did so, the his benumbed faculties. guns opened with murderous uproar, and “Kirkpatrick," he said, with pitiful bra- from stem to stern every rifle was spitting vado, in which there was a note of entreaty, flame. “I think we may congratulate ourselves on But in the instant of her passage arrows the way we fought the ship!" flew thick and fast, and from a hundred guns or more repeated volleys swept over her deck. St. Aubyn fell, shot through the neck. A CHAPTER XVIII couple of men in the. fore-rigging dropped like sacks of coal. One poor fellow ran KIRK did not know, until he descended screaming the length of the ship, holding from the bridge to assure himself of Vera's his shattered jaw to his face. safety, and to learn the extent of their losses, With her guns detonating, her crew cheer- that in one brief hour he had become a hero. ing, her cordage groaning and creaking, the This fact was borne in on him by the tumul- Fortuna tore through the screeching, yelling tuous cheering that greeted his appearance. throng, and raced into the comparative secu- There was a rush to acclaim him, to shake rity of the prairie beyond. Many still clung his hand, to overwhelm him with vociferous to her flanks, but the main body, disorganized admiration. Powder-blackened men, naked and appalled, made no attempt to follow, to the waist, with disheveled hair, and shrinking together in a panic-stricken crowd. splashed with blood and dirt, surged about When Kirk again went about and flung the him in mad enthusiasm. It was all he could Fortuna at their very center, they broke and do to force his way amidships, struggling in fled. At first, even in flight, they kept some the most undignified manner with those who cohesion. But as the ship plowed through would have raised him on their shoulders and their frenzied ranks, her huge wheels striking borne him aloft in triumph. down dozens at a time and crushing them, Tasting for the first time in his life the most the survivors scattered in every direction like intoxicating pleasure the world can give, autumn leaves in the wind. his bewilderment was equaled only by his Thinking that the slaughter had gore far surprise. It had not dawned on him before enough, Kirk gave the order to cease fir- that he had done anything extraordinary, ing, and applied himself to breaking up the and he had even feared that his assumption smaller parties, which in tens and twenties of command might later on be resented. still kept together. Circling like some mon- But here he was the hero of the ship, with strous vulture, he cut off these in turn, and great bearded fellows exalting him to the scattered them to the four winds, till the skies, and huzzahing like so many lunatics. savanna, as far as the eye could reach, was Amidships, he was acclaimed with similar dotted with fleeing figures. In these maneu- outbursts. Wounded men raised themselves vers, he refrained as far as he could from to call out faintly: “Well done, Kirkpatrick!” taking more lives, being content to harass “Good for you, old man!” Old Zeddy had and terrorize the fugitives till he was satisfied one arm around him in a bear-like hug. Mrs. that they were utterly routed. Hitchcock was covering his hand with kisses Then, setting the vessel once more on her and crying hysterically. He was pushed and course, he thankfully drew away from such jostled and almost torn to pieces. As in a scenes of carnage, and let them sink behind dream he looked for Vera. He was too human The Adventurer 257 not to long that she might be there to see him Kirk was for temporizing, and with his at this wonderful moment. new-found authority he had little difficulty Ah, there she was, kneeling beside St. in carrying his point. They were all tired Aubyn, and gazing up at him with eyes like out, he said, and neither cool nor collected stars. Huddled about her on blankets and enough to settle such a vital matter offhand. mattresses were the wounded men she had He wrung a reluctant consent from von Zedt- been tending, hemming her in so closely that witz and Westbrook that decision should be she could not rise without disturbing them. postponed for twenty-four hours. But there was something in her glance that He himself was utterly exhausted by the Kirk thought he had never seen before strain of the battle. The reaction had left something that stirred him inexpressibly, and him limp as a rag. In return for their con- filled him with a sudden and wild delight. cession, he consented to seek his bunk and But disturbing duties crowded on him fast get a little repose. Not, however, until he and robbed him of those ecstatic moments. had made the round of the ship; put her in It was extraordinary how every one deferred trim to renew the fight, if need be; and sta- to him, and made him at once the arbiter of tioned some of his trusty men on guard. all their destinies. It was as though he had Even then, it was only at the most urgent in- suddenly been elected king. His will was sistence of his two friends that he allowed supreme, and authority was positively forced himself to be ordered below. But they prom- upon him. The poor, disgraced captain had ised that he should be called at the first sign hidden himself out of sight, and Haines had of danger, and with this he had to be satisfied. similarly disappeared. It seemed that the “See here, Kirkpatrick," said Westbrook latter had lain throughout the battle on the bluntly, "you've shown us that you are the floor of the top in a state of abject terror. best man on board, and it's only common The news had run round the ship, and he sense to take good care of you. Now shut had been hooted and hissed as he made his up and go below!” appearance on deck. Fortune, as usual, had Kirk obeyed. The old man's paternal favored the brave; and in the time of stress tone touched him. Praise from Vera's father the true leader had arisen. The cowardice was praise indeed, however roughly it might of Jackson and Haines had been the means be uttered. He threw himself on his bunk, of exalting Kirk. and, turning his face to the wall, fell fast Their loss had been frightful. Eleven asleep. He had been up the greater part of killed and wounded out of a complement the night before, and this had added to his of fifty-six. Bence, Farquer, and McCann fatigue. Body and brain were both weary, killed; St. Aubyn dying; Weaver, the little and he nestled his face to the pillow as a jockey, hanging between life and death, his child nestles to its mother's breast. only chance a difficult operation that would He had no idea how long he had slept when have to be carried out in the most trying and he felt his shoulder shaken, and looked up to unfavorable circumstances; Johnson, Wick- see his cabin crowded with men. He sprang ersham, Stubbs, Forsyth, Niedringhaus, and up instantly in a sweat of apprehension, Stanley all more or less seriously hurt. thinking that the Fortuna was again in It was hard to decide what was best to do. danger. To expose these unfortunate men to the “Good heavens, what's the matter?" cruel buffeting of the ship was manifestly, “It's all right. Don't worry- We've for a while at least, impossible. The con- come to have a talk with you.” dition of St. Aubyn and Weaver absolutely It was Westbrook who spoke, and Kirk's precluded it. Yet time was precious, and the alarm vanished as he regarded that grave, ship could not be tied up indefinitely. West- kind face. But his surprise rose by leaps brook and Von-Zedtwitz were for going on and bounds at the unexpected sight of a dozen at once at any hazard. They were sustained of the crew invading his room, and peering in by the wishes of the injured men themselves, at him through the doorway. What did it who, with magnificent courage, were unani- mean? mous in their desire not to hamper the ex- “We've just come from a big meeting in pedition. Mrs. Hitchcock was in no state the forecastle," said Westbrook. “These to take part in the discussion, and had locked gentlemen are a committee who have been herself in her cabin, sobbing and moaning appointed to bring you the news.” on the floor. iNews?" 258 Everybody's Magazine “You have been elected captain.” breeze still held. He regretted the necessity Kirk was speechless. He was still half for losing the mileage they might so easily asleep. The committee solemnly regarded have made had it not been for the wounded. him, while he drowsily regarded the com- But this was in passing; there were more mittee. The silence was broken by Hilde- peremptory things to claim his attention. brand. Grouping himself with his two officers on the “There's been the deuce to pay,” he said. bridge, he sent for Beale. The Australian Then the situation was gradually explained. came swaggering aft, and mounted the ladder Mrs. Hitchcock, egged on by Jackson, had with a jaunty air. flatly announced her determination to throw “Hello, Kirk," he said. “What's up?" up the expedition. The disasters of the day “Don't call me that again,” exclaimed had completely cowed her, and she was Kirk. “I'm the captain of this ship, and the frantic to turn back. She and Jackson had sooner you know it the better." been among the crew, promising enormous Kirk's hand was on his revolver, and he sums of money to those who would side with looked so ready to use it that Beale's little her. Unfortunately, there were only too ironical speech died still-born at the first many who themselves had lost heart. The syllable. pair had secured at least sixteen adherents; “I haven't much to say to you, Beale,” Kirk and had it not been for the drastic action of went on, "except to tell you that if you don't Westbrook and the cooler heads, the con- toe the line, I'll clap you in irons and keep spiracy would soon have assumed dangerous you there. Do you understand? No tamper- proportions. As it was, it was bad enough, ing with the men; no dickering with Mrs. though the bolder spirits had rallied, and had Hitchcock; no hole-and-corner politics. If defied the cowardly minority. Taking the I hear another word about turning back, I'll bull by the horns, they had deposed Jackson know who's at the root of it, and I'll give you and Haines, placed stanch men in charge short shrift. You can go forward.” of the arms, and had asserted their determina- Beale hesitated as though to argue the tion to proceed at any cost. But they were matter, but the row of resolute faces daunted now confronted by three powerful enemies, him, and he turned on his heel without a Beale, Jackson, and the old lady's money. word. It was no little victory for Kirk, and It was said that she had offered the Australian saved him from the disagreeable course of $50,000 and the command if he could head putting his threat into execution. the ship back again to Felicidad; together Then he sent for Jackson and Haines. with ten thousand to every recruit. This The latter appeared first. He was a sad- price put upon timidity threatened to under- looking object; his features swollen with mine the resistance of those who otherwise weeping, and every line of his body articulate would have remained firm. Why should they with dejection and shame. He acquiesced risk their skins for problematical treasures, humbly in his disrating, and took his lecture while safety and an assured competence could in a snuffling silence. When he was told he be so pleasantly combined? had to shift his things forward and take up Kirk inquired the names of the two other his quarters in the forecastle, he broke down officers. completely, and went away, crying like a “Wicks and Goltz.” baby. He could not have asked for better. “Well, where's Jackson?". Wicks was a middle-aged merchant-service “Won't come, captain!” man holding a captain's papers. A bit of “Won't come, eh? What did he say?" Devonshire granite, burly, slow of speech, The answer was unprintable. with unflinching blue eyes—a fellow to be “Take four hands with you and bring relied on to his last breath. Goltz was an ex- him." Uhlan, a bitter, brilliant, irascible creature, “Aye, aye, sir.” who in his palmy days had been a fop and a Alas for the fall of the mighty! Was this bon vivant, and whose broken fortunes had the erstwhile magnificent being who had left him nothing but a daredevil courage. lorded it in the high places—his coat ripped He held his life cheap, and loved danger for down the back, his face purple with passion, its own sake. his shapely legs kicking and struggling like Kirk buckled on his pistol, and went on a recreant schoolboy's in the grasp of the deck. It was nearly five o'clock, and the usher? A cursing, reviling maniac, fighting The Adventurer 259 every inch of his enforced progress, bellow- ing, biting, scratching with superhuman fury, dragged in front, boosted from behind, the late ornament of the transport service was ingloriously hoisted into view. Kirk was alive to the fact that he owed his own promotion, in the first instance, to the liking Jackson had taken for him; and he was consequently desirous of being as easy with his former commander as he possibly could. Yet at the same time he had to assert, in no equivocal fashion, the power that had been vested in him. Swift and decisive action was needed to stem the incipient mutiny be- fore it could gather greater headway. The ringleaders had to be taught, and taught promptly, that any attempt to turn back the ship would not be tolerated. Any paltering with the situation would assuredly result in disaster. As in every assembly of men, the mass were on the fence ready to side with the winner. It was a case of taking time by the forelock, and of striking hard. Kirk made no effort to check Jackson's tirade. He patiently endured insults, threats, and vituperation, which grew louder and more incoherent, for the man's fury seemed to burst all bounds. Storming and raving, he was fairly beside himself, frothing at the mouth, shaking his fist in the air, defying everything and everybody with a hoarse, spluttering torrent of invective that stopped at nothing. Kirk let him roar himself out, and when at last, spent and breathless, he paused from sheer exhaustion, he himself bore in. “You've had your turn, Mr. Jackson,” he said, "and now, I guess, it's mine. All this noise won't do us any good. I've stood it once, but I don't intend to stand it again. Either you've got to make up your mind to take your medicine quietly, or, by George, I'll bundle you forward and keep you there. You're nothing now on this ship but a pas- senger-do you hear?-a passenger!” Jackson was plainly working himself up for a fresh explosion. “I–I-I—" he began in a choking voice. “Silence!" thundered Kirk, and advancing on him, he shouted to Goltz for the handcuffs. The jingle of steel unmanned Jackson. He gazed wildly about him, and jerked his hands to his breast as though to save them from profanation. His bold front gave way to a cringing and pitiable submission. "Hold on, boys,” he pleaded in a broken voice. “For God's sake, don't put those things on me. I-I couldn't stand it. I'll try to do what you think best.” Kirk motioned Goltz back. “Very well,” he said. “We don't want to humiliate you if we can help it. If you will make it easy for us, we'll make it easy for you—and let bygones be bygones all round. Only remember this — you have more influence with Mrs. Hitchcock than any of us, and if I learn of any more bribes being offered to our men, I shall hold you personally responsible. That kind of thing has to stop. You must make it your duty to see that it does. We are determined to push the expedition through, and croakers and hangers-back will get no mercy. Everybody went into this with open eyes-and now that they're in, they'll have to stay in! That will do. You may go below!” “He's whipped,” said Westbrook, as they watched the ex-captain descend the ladder with forlorn deliberation. “Hope so," assented Kirk. “But the ship's full of loose powder, and a spark may set it off.” “Well, we have two of our firebrands in list slippers-Beale and Jackson.” “And the hose ready," added Wicks with a grin. "If poor St. Aubyn goes, it will have a very bad effect," said Kirk. “How is he?" “Very low.” “And Weaver?" “No better.” Kirk shuddered as his eyes swept the limitless expanse about them. “What a place to leave your bones in!” “Take care, my friend,” said Westbrook, tapping him affectionately on the back. “If you lose heart, what will become of us?” “I'd give half my share to be under way again,” exclaimed Kirk somberly. “This inaction is killing. We are going to be tied up here for days and days. Gentlemen, the coming weeks will prove a greater strain than our fight to-day, and they will test our courage a good deal more." Dinner that night was the gloomiest of rites. No one could eat, and McCann's empty place stared at them like a specter. The worthy, jolly fellow, with his hackneyed jokes and unending prattle, was now still forever. In life he had been an amiable bore, full of puns and quips and clumsy, good- humored chaff. It was hard to associate him with death, or to think that he lay stiff 260 Everybody's Magazine and stark, with a sheet drawn over his livid face. Mrs. Hitchcock kept to her cabin, but Jackson took his accustomed seat, and in a crushed, stricken manner showed a sort of gratefulness at finding he was not to be sent to Coventry. They were all at some pains to ease his fall, and to treat him with considera- tion and respect. Vera sat beside her father, but she was downcast and silent, and soon excused herself and slipped away. Dinner was altogether a hushed, melancholy perform- ance, and every one was relieved when it was over. Kirk made his rounds; ordered the search- light lit; stationed a couple of men at each of the machine guns; and then, turning over the command to Wicks, buried himself in a dark corner to smoke a cigar. So many things had happened that he wished to draw on one side, and think them over-wanted to have some time to think, alone and undis- turbed. It was very hard for him to realize the topsy-turvy changes of the last twelve hours—the battle, the deposition of Jackson and Haines, his own unexpected elevation, the unforeseen and alarming stand taken by the old lady to break up the expedition. Through all the random pictures thus recalled there persisted always a vivid, girlish face, with haunting eyes, and a look so troubled and strange that he trembled at his own presump- tion of its meaning. Did it not reflect some- thing of his own heart-sickness, of his own wild longing? Ah, this love that was supposed to be so sweet, it was the cruelest thing in the world! Voices drew near him—two shadowy fig- ures in close and confidential talk-Vera and the tall, thin, boyish doctor. “It will be an hour before I dare to try perhaps two. I can do nothing until he rallies a little. It's what's called a capital operation." “But he has a strong constitution.” “That's almost a drawback, Miss West- brook. A vitality lowered by long illness is preferable to that of a strong, hearty fellow struck down in the full tide of health and strength. The violent arrest is equivalent to wrecking an express train with its own brakes.” “You will call me when I'm wanted?" “Oh, yes, That is, if you think you're brave enough to-to- " “I'm not afraid, doctor. I'd despise myself if I allowed my squeamishness to stand in the poor fellow's way. I may faint afterward, but until the operation is over you can rely on me.” “Miss Westbrook, you are a thorough- bred.” “No-just a woman.” “And shaming the men as your sex al- ways does. Those chaps mean well, but you can see yourself how stupid and useless they are. I'd rather have you in the sick-bay than a dozen of them.” “Thank you, doctor." “Get a little air, then come back. I want to put Bence on the table and find that bullet. I'm sure it's in there." “Very well. I'll stay here till I'm wanted.” Phillips turned, and left her standing there alone. Kirk called to her softly. She started, and then came toward him in the darkness. In an instant she was in his arms, her face burning under his kisses, her little hot hands clinging to his. He pressed her to him in a fever of delight and exultation. She was his. He had snatched her from all the fates, and would never let her go again. He had no thought of her distress, her shame, her panting whispers to be released. He kissed her until she forgot everything in an ecstasy of love, till her lips were as eager as his, till in that resistless torrent of emotion she was swept headlong, powerless to save herself. He told her that he loved her. Oh, how he loved her! He had loved her from the first day-loved and hated her-both. Hated her for her beauty, which had tortured him without ceasing. But she was his now. He extorted the admission from her. He put . the most endearing words into her mouth, and crushed her until she repeated them- repeated them again and again, with tender, mocking variations. The primitive woman in her wanted to be coerced, to flutter in the bonds of an irresistible strength, to rouse to frenzy that most savage of all egoisms. To submit was rapture-to believe that one had no choice-to feel a delicious helplessness, and swoon in an iron grasp. “Kirk, darling?” “Yes, sweetheart." “You would do anything for me, wouldn't you?”. “Of course I would.” “Even if it were very disagreeable?" “What do you mean, Vera? I don't understand.” “Kirk, Captain Jackson is right!” “Right!” “It's crazy for us to go on. Oh, don't The Adventurer 261 hate me for saying it. But, Kirk, please, for won't touch us again. Zedtwitz is positive my sake. No, you must listen-you must, of it.” you must. It is too dangerous and terrible “He'd be positive of anything—to go on.” to go on. Think of all those poor fellows “No, no." lying there. Nothing is worth such a price “It's my first favor. The only thing I've -no, not all the treasure in the world! It ever asked of you—and you refuse it." was all very well before. It was delightful “I have to. Good heavens, I have no then. It was inspiriting and splendid. But choice!” now it would be wicked-criminal, Kirk. “Even after all I've said?” If it were in a better cause I'd say nothing. “Oh, my darling, try to put yourself in my But what is it all for?-just money." place. The disgrace of it—the disloyalty—! “But that's everything." The decision must rest absolutely with your “No, it isn't!” father." “It is to me. To lose it would mean losing "Nothing can shake him. He's incredibly you. I must have it." obstinate. His whole heart's bound up with “O Kirk, papa is worth ever so much. this wretched ship and his childish pride in He will take care of us.” it. You're just the same. I count for noth- “Oh, that's impossible. You would not ing with either of you." have me a dependent." “That isn't true. It's a question of “I thought you wanted me so much." honor." “But a beggar?" “And what of love? Is that not more?" “But he'll make you something—find you “Don't put it like that!” something to do." “But I do.” “Besides, Vera, I couldn't be so disloyal. “Then I'm helpless.” It's more even than the money-lots more. “Yes or no, Kirk?”. I'd be a cur to back out now. What could “Oh, you know I can't." be more treacherous, more ignominious! As “So that's the test of your love for me? long as your father and von Zedtwitz wish to Well, I shall plead no longer. I have some go on, don't you see I have no other course?” pride too, and you have trampled it under “But talk it over with them. Explain it foot. It's a bitter thing to find that you have to them. I know they will listen to you. given your heart to a man who is unworthy Papa defers all the time to your judgment. of it. No, no, don't—that's all over!” You are the one person he would yield to." She gently freed herself, and left him be- “I simply couldn't.” fore he could realize the full significance of “O Kirk, you could-you could!" their quarrel. Then he followed her, beg- “Besides, we are more than half-way there, ging incoherently for her forgiveness. much more than half-way. It would be “There's nothing to forgive,” she said in a cowardly to turn tail now." sad little voice. “You've disappointed me “And if we meet more savages?” —that's all. 1-I thought you cared, Kirk.” “Fight them!” “But I do, I do!” “And if I were hurt? Suppose I had to “I don't wish to talk about it any more. have my foot cut off like poor Stanley?" It's too heart-breaking. But if to-morrow “Next time I'll see that you're out of you don't change your mind, I'll never speak harm's way. We're going to armor one of to you again.” the cabins for you and Mrs. Hitchcock, and With that she was gone. make certain that you both stay there. It was frightful how you exposed yourself to- day.” CHAPTER XIX "And if the ship were carried? You know the horrors that a woman is exposed to? I The next day at dawn the mournful should have thought that that might have preparations had to be made to inter the weighed with you. Think of my- " dead. St. Aubyn had died during the night, “Stop-Vera, stop. 1- ". and four graves had to be dug a little way “Is it not true?” from the ship. All hands were assembled to “No, I'd kill you first.” pay the last honors to their fallen comrades; “And if you were dead?” and the four bodies, sewn in hammocks, were “They've learned their lesson. They reverently borne to their last rest. The flag 262 Everybody's Magazine was half-masted, and from the Fortuna's Weaver's condition put them indeed in a lofty deck, the little handful of the guard, dilemma. grouped about her guns, looked down at the “And he may die after all?” asked Craw- slow procession wending its way across the shaw. prairie. Westbrook read the burial service, “Oh, certainly,” assented Phillips. “He and never had it sounded to his hearers more has hardly three chances in ten.” beautiful or impressive. The vastness and There followed a prolonged discussion that desolation of the scene, the rugged figures of brought matters no nearer a climax. Kirk, the men leaning on their rifles, the stately who had held back and said little, was the measure of the words—all made an impres- one to resolve their perplexities. sion that could never be forgotten. “Gentlemen," he said, "it seems to me It was not a sight to strengthen hearts not a matter for us, but for the poor fellow already faint; and on their return a council of himself. Let it be laid before him quite war was held in the chart-room to discuss the frankly, we pledging ourselves to abide by very serious situation that now confronted his wishes. We will stay here, or go on, them. Phillips, previously the least consid- or go back to Felicidad, just as he desires. ered of the party—a gawky, boyish, diffident This is the only way to evade a responsi- fellow, fresh from the medical schools of bility that I, for one, will not take on my Edinburgh—had now become a powerful fac- shoulders.” tor in their plans. He was listened to with “The captain's right," put in Wicks. great respect, and his proposals were atten "Is he in any condition to consider it?" tively considered. inquired Goltz. He expatiated on the harm to their morale “Oh, he is conscious," said the doctor. that would result from remaining where they “This morning he dictated a letter to his were. The constant sight of those graves, he mother." said, would have a depressing effect on every “Then in that case I think we are unani- one on board, and sickness would indubitably mous," exclaimed Westbrook. “Has any follow. He was for putting in another day's one an objection?” sail, and then forming a comfortable camp His question, though including them all, beside the ship where the wounded might was more particularly addressed to von have the necessary space so lacking on the Zedtwitz. The German was tugging at his Fortuna itself, and at least two weeks for whiskers in a sullen, fidgety manner. The recuperation. The one difficulty in the way plan did not suit him at all. To put the was Weaver's extremely precarious condi expedition in jeopardy for the sake of one tion. man irritated him profoundly. It struck "I cannot assume the responsibility, single him as a bit of silly sentimentalism. This handed, of moving him,” went on the young made his answer all the more unexpected. doctor. “Even a few hours of jolting and “I bow to the majority," he said grimly. racking might cost him his life. But it Phillips was sent away to submit the matter seems to me that this is a case of considering to Weaver. the greater good of the greater number.” A little later he returned. “When do you think he would be in a state “You're not to consider him at all!” he to endure it safely?" It was Westbrook who cried. “By George, I take my hat off to that asked. fellow. If that isn't pluck for you!” “Gentlemen, not under two months.” “He consents to go on?” inquired West- · This was a thunderclap. brook. The two months would trespass seriously “Insists on it. I had to tell him the risk. on their reserves of provisions and water, not ‘Hang the risk,' he said; ‘a man can die only to speak of bringing them perilously near the once-just keep me alive as long as you can, wet season when the flooded savanna would doctor, and when my time's come, let me go turn to bog. easy!'” “It is a peety,” said von Zedtwitz. “Weaver There were exclamations of approval, of was a fine man, but- " admiration. The dilemma no longer ex- His pause spoke volumes. isted. Weaver had freed them from a terrible “And the others, doctor?" responsibility. “Oh, I'll have them fit to travel in a fort “After all, it's only what any of us would night.” have done,” said Crawshaw simply. The Adventurer 263 By ten o'clock the Fortuna was under way as well as the courage and good humor with again, lying up close-hauled against a stiff which he bore his frightful sufferings, stirred breeze. Cots had been slung for the wounded, his companions with a limitless compassion. alleviating in some slight measure the trying The new camp was to be named Weaver- motion of the ship. The hatches were off Camp Weaver-and the poor, stricken little the main hold, and tents and other parapher- jockey derived much satisfaction from the nalia were being hoisted out in readiness honor. for the camp. All was bustle and animation, “How good you boys are,” he whispered. and it was apparent that the men's spirits rose “Camp Weaver! I say, that's the sort of with every mile that separated them from thing to make a chap feel proud!” those four lonely mounds behind them. Kirk, Mrs. Hitchcock appeared at table that day alone, showed none of the buoyancy that was for the first time since Jackson's deposition. everywhere else so manifest. He was in a She was very subdued, though there was a bitter and dejected humor. Vera had been gleam in her sunken black eyes that be- true to her word, and had cut him to the tokened mischief. But she was civil to ev- quick by her coldness and disdain. He had erybody; inquired the day's run; and com- tried to reinstate himself, hoping that on ported herself with a sort of stiff dignity that second thoughts she would relent. But she became her very well. Westbrook thought had listened to him in silence, and then had to patch up peace with her, mistaking her turned away. He was no match for her in carefully calculated manner for an overture such a contest. He could not affect a similar of friendship. But he was quickly unde- cold attitude. His face could not hide how ceived. cruelly he had been hurt. For him it was the “You fail to appreciate my position,” she end of the world, the end of everything, and said coolly. “You have everything your he went about his duties with a benumbing own way just now, and I am powerless. sense of despair. But I'll find a means to assert my rights long But there was too much on his shoulders before you reach Cassiquiare." to allow him for long to dwell on his misery. “My dear Mrs. Hitchcock," cried West- Orders had to be given, a hundred things brook, “it is most painful to hear you speak seen to, and the ship vigilantly watched to like that! May I not appeal to your good coax every yard out of her. He pressed her sense, your generosity—to do away with this as hard as he dared, finding a somber pleas- miserable misunderstanding? This is a time ure in scaring his command out of their seven for us all to stand together, shoulder to shoul- wits. Never before had the Fortuna been der, and drop all our differences for the so audaciously handled. Again and again general good.” her weather-wheels lifted, and the whole He rose, and came over to her, holding out enormous fabric careened over with a sick- his hand. ening lurch that brought the heart to the “For heaven's sake, let us be friends!” he mouth. Every stitch drawing-a mountain exclaimed. of humming, bellying, straining yellow silk Her sallow face hardened, and two little -he kept her racing at a breakneck pace, spots of red showed in her cheeks. with a rush and thunder in consonance with “We are not friends,” she said, “and we his own harsh thoughts. He had learned never can be again. This vessel is my prop- every trick of her now. He knew to a hair erty; the food you are eating was bought with what she could stand. He could feel and my money; I have the legal right to demand trust her as he could his own body. But to our return to Felicidad. You choose to defy the others, who had no such assurance, it was me—well, I will make no threats, but I warn as though they had given themselves over to you I am submitting to compulsion, and will a madman. seize the first opportunity to turn the tables Toward noon the declining wind left them on you." becalmed. There was the usual long, sul Westbrook went back to his place, and sat try interval, to be borne with what patience down again. they might. The good news was passed It was an unfortunate moment for Jackson around the ship that Weaver was better to remark that he himself intended to sue him positively better. He had suddenly become for a quarter of a million damages. “For ab- a very important personage; and the desper- duction,” he said, “not to speak of barratry, ate fight he was making to keep death at bay, piracy, and wrongful dismissal.” 264 Everybody's Magazine At this Westbrook's temper leaped all to use the greatest vigilance, and to see to it bounds. that discipline was not slackened. In idle- “Then sue away!” he roared. “Sue, sue, ness there is always a disintegrating leaven to sue! And I'll show you up in court for the contend with; and a considerable body of coward you are! Yesterday we took your men is more apt to suffer from doing nothing measure, Jackson, and if you ever say sue than from doubled tasks. Little injustices again, or as much as raise your little finger assume the proportions of mountains; grum- against us, we'll give you the swiftest trial a blers get together and contaminate the rest; man ever got, and a frog-march forward! the food, the commonest cause of all dis- Sue, indeed! By heavens, we'll give you content, becomes the subject of furious something to sue for- !” criticism. Kirk was so well aware of this Jackson bent his head before the storm; that he proposed that they should all fare his cheeks, his ears, the back of his head and fare alike, fore and aft, and evenly slowly turned to crimson. Mrs. Hitchcock divide such little delicacies as jam and butter took up the challenge he dared not accept, and canned fruit. A rigorous and impartial and, trembling with passion, let fly the lash allowance, without favoritism to any but the of her tongue. sick, would go far toward keeping the mal- The party broke up in disorder. The old contents in order. woman's onslaught could be evaded only by They all foresaw, Westbrook, von Zedtwitz, flight. There ensued a general sauve qui Crawshaw, Wicks, Goltz, and Kirk himself, peut, her strident voice pursuing them as they that Camp Weaver was likely to become a hurried up the companion. All compro- hotbed of treachery and disloyalty. With mises had become impossible. It was to be every safeguard it would be impossible to war-war to the knife. prevent Jackson and Mrs. Hitchcock from carrying on a propaganda for retreat. With Later in the day the wind sprang up as the dazzling inducements the latter could brisk as before. Sail was again made, and offer-so tangible and sure, in comparison the Fortuna resumed her course. It seemed with a treasure that was conceivably a myth- too bad, when the weather conditions were this period of delay was fraught with extreme so favorable, that they should be condemned danger. To many of these needy adventur- to the tedious period of inaction that they ers a sum of five or ten thousand dollars was had agreed should begin at sundown. By a veritable fortune in itself, and the bait was that time the dead reckoning showed them likely to be greedily taken. The situation to be within 110 miles of Cassiquiare, or had to be faced with all the coolness and reso- hardly more than three days distant. lution the leaders could muster; and it was The camp was begun at once beside the determined to keep a close watch on the pair, ship, and though it was not completed before and nip anything of the nature of a con- dark, a comfortable shelter was soon raised for spiracy in the bud. Beale especially was to the wounded, and the men were lowered under be under surveillance, though Wicks told the supervision of the doctor. There was them that the fellow had lost much of his some disagreement as to whether the camp authority among the crew, and that they were should be fortified or not. One idea was to overrating his capacity for evil. entrench it, and dismount the machine guns For Kirk the trying and deadly monotony from the Fortuna. But after much consider- of the days that followed had the added bitter- ation it was decided that the mobility of the ness of his estrangement from Vera. He had ship was too precious to lose; and that in case apparently affronted her too deeply for for- of emergency it would be wiser to get on giveness. She steadfastly refused his ad- board of her, and repeat, if they could, the vances, kept out of his way all she could, and tactics of the previous battle. Under sail she did not even pay him the compliment of be- was a terrible antagonist, and offered them, traying either anger or chagrin. In public- besides, the advantage of flight. Even and he never saw her alone-her manner standing she was a better fort than any they toward him was undistinguishable from that could build, and provided them an incom she showed the others. She did not pointedly parably securer refuge. avoid him; she addressed him just enough to A strict routine was outlined, and the petty give the rest no chance for remark; and yet officers, after being assembled, were cautioned her girlish armor was impenetrable. The seventh instalment of “The Adventurer" will appear in the September number. ANAL The Probationer and the Pennant By HUGH PENDEXTER duthor of "Tiberius Smith," etc. Illustrations by Horace Taylor CHE met her husband at the porch door in J sour anxiety and, with thin lips pursed, waited for him to speak. He surveyed her harsh face and gaunt figure with twinkling eyes for a few seconds, and then nodded his white head delightedly and, catching her about the waist with one brawny arm, lightly swung her to the window. Exultantly he pointed to three men receding down the road, one of them with flowing whiskers streaming sideways, which gave him a fluffy and one- sided appearance. “Yas, Sarah,” cried he, “it's Brother Sedg- wick and several of the class members." “Drat the man!” she exclaimed, disen- gaging his arm and returning to add vinegar to her steaming pickles. “I seen 'em call at the barn, didn't I? But as I've seen 'em call on you many times before, when their errand brought sorrer to my heart, I want to know what they've decided.” He straightened complacently and was pre- paring to give her a leisurely account of the interview, when she noisily dropped a stick of wood into the stove and fixed on him a look of impatience that was accentuated by the veil of sparks, and he hurried to add, “It's all right this time. I'm to be taken into full membership this coming Sunday.” “Thank the Lawd!" she cried, counterfeit- ing a sob. “Then, Emory Annit, your long probation is ended at last and you'll quit worrying me and can now have the blessed privilege of worshiping in my church.” His face drew down and he plucked at his clean-shaven chin dubiously. “Why, Sarah, I thought it had been my church all along, seeing how I've been on probation all the time- " “For a mighty long time," she interrupted. “Wal, my dear, it's been over long, I'll admit,” he sighed. Then, brightening, “But it shows I was set on breaking in some time. Now be fair; ain't I tried my dangdest to join the church?” “No, Emory,” she denied with artificial evenness. “You've always allowed some- thing to crop out to hinder.” He coughed apologetically and hung his head, while the fine old face struggled between a whimsical smile and a contrite expression. “Wal, we'll waive that p’int,” he said, eying her furtively. “I'll only say I've been on the ragged edge of being taken in a dozen times.” 265 266 Everybody's Magazine et “Gambling is a sin and taking part in trivial things is onreligious,” she reminded him sententiously. “Of course ye remember why ye wa'n't taken in last year.” “Not in particular," he returned, knitting his brows as if endeavoring to recollect. "Is'pose not,” she said in her best sarcastic vein. “Nor any- thing about win- ning a hoss race by waving your hat in the face of Lem Tib- betts's hoss and making him bolt when ye was at the back of the track." He stifled a frightened grin and frowned heavily. “I was protecting my- self,” he pro- tested earnestly. “We was going it neck and neck and Lem's hired man was hiding in the bushes to throw a rock at me so's I'd lose. I waved my hat like this," and he fluttered a hand lightly, pantomimic of a falling leaf, or the lazy drifting of rifle smoke," jest to distract his attention.” “Then why did the poor brute try to climb over the fence?” she inquired skeptically. “And why did ye offer to bet Lem a doller ye could best him again?” “I knew he wouldn't bet, my dear,” he said in mild deprecation, now seeking to retreat. “And it all happened on a Saturday,” she continued in a dry monotone, “and on the next day ye wa’n't taken into the church.” “That's so," he groaned, his mouth describing a downward curve. Then he pleaded, “But, Sarah, jest because a man loves a hoss trot and a baseball game and to see the cattle pull, and is foolish enough to wageronce in a very great while-a measly five-cent seegar on a result, he ain't so awful wicked. Ye really don't believe the Lawd loves me any the less for that, do ye?”. “I was brought up to believe He frowns on such rinktums,” she returned. He met her steady, convincing gaze for some seconds as she stood with spoon poised above the kettle. Then as the spoon fell he bowed his head ruefully, and declared, “Wal, it's all over now. I'm through. As such carrying-ons is foolish and have kept me out of the church, I've quit.'em. I wouldn't bet a seegar on the best race ever pulled off — no, not if I was driving. I wouldn't go across the road to see the best ball ever pitched -that is, I don't think I would.” "And know- ing your weak- ness, and re- membering how many times you've backslid at the last min- ute, you'll keep a way from temptation, such as the ball game to-morrer," she suggested almost pleasantly, but very firmly. He winced slightly and drummed several tattoos on the window-pane before replying faintly, “I s'pose I'll have to. I really don't care much about going; only, I don't want to seem to doubt my moral strength. Of course there's no harm in my standing in the back- ground and quietly looking on. A church- member who has to scuttle to cover every time a high-stepper sweeps by, or when a man steals second base, can't be of much value to the Lawd. I might as well be in a convent if I can't walk abroad like other men.” She straightened her pessimistic lips in a determined line and removed the vinegar quietly, as if fearing to disturb a sleeper. “Ye think it ain't safe for me to go?” he per- sisted anxiously. “Ye think I really care about going and will hoot and cut up and dis- grace myself and be refused membership on the Sabbath?” In a low discord she began humming a hymn, and proceeded to fill little bags with spice. He gazed long and vacantly on the hearth, all enthusiasm blotted from his face. A NUTMEG-GRATER DROPPED WITH A CLATTER. The Probationer and the Pennant 267 Gradually, however, his eyes snapped as he himself hoarse and disporting his sixty-odd happened upon some pleasing retrospect, and years in a manner sure to arouse the class- half fearfully he asked, “S’pose young Whit- leader's condemnation. So he bowed to his ten's going to pitch for our boys to-morrer?” fate and a broken gate by the roadside. A nutmeg-grater dropped with a clatter “O Mr. Annit”-a youthful voice caused and she turned a gaze of grim suspicion on his him to look up—“Jim Whitten's arm is gone averted face. He scowled at the stove and, lame and we ain't no one to take his place this still avoiding her accusing eyes, sought refuge afternoon.” in the observation, “Of course I don't care; Emory dropped his hammer and raised only, I was thinking, in a dreamy sort of a himself on his knees with sympathetic dismay way, that with the Whitten boy pitching, we creasing his face. “Arm gone back on him, -er, Peevy's Mills oughter win.” Wilbur?” he cried. Still no comment from her, rigid and dis- The youth, seeing in the old man only trustful. “Not that I care much about it, another of his kind, approached nearer. “It as my thoughts are elsewhere,” he con- has,” he almost sniveled; "but we mustn't fidentially explained to the stove. let on, Mr. Annit." “Your thoughts," she suggested bitterly, “Sh-h-h, not a word,” agreed Emory, “are probably on the time ye was put on tapping his nose knowingly. “Who pitches further probation for threatening to lick the for the others ?” empire.” "Watkins.” "Never intended to harm a hair of his “Huh!” groaned Emory, his mouth sinking head,” he began earnestly. “He robbed— " another notch. “Wal, I'm glad I'm not “Wal, ye won't going to see it.” be robbed this "Mr. Annit!” time," she broke gasped the boy, in, now confront- dropping in de- ing him in ulti- spair on the mate assurance. bank. “Not go- “To-morrer ye ing to see it?" keep away from "No, Wilbur," that game and replied Emory be ready Sunday gently, resuming with a clear con- his work and science and a whistling me new shirt to go chanically. “No, with me to Wilbur, I have church. We more serious don't want no things to think church-members of." who act like cir- “Not going to cuses. To-mor- be there?" rer ye can fuss choked the boy, with the garden tearing up the fence.” grass. And the mor- Emory felt a row found him sharp twinge of fetching his tools pain as he stole from the barn; a glance at the but despite the half-crying face, glory of the day "XO, WILBUR, I HAVE MORE SERIOUS THINGS TO THINK OF." and in a tremu- and the anticipa- lous voice he said tion of the Sabbath's reward, there was the soothingly: “Of course my sympathies will shadow of a cloud upon his face. Temp- be with ye, and I shall hope, as I think of tation whispered that he could view the it whenever I hear the cheering, that our game in placid, dignified quiet; but his boys win.” honest old heart warned him that he would “The game is lost already,” said Wilbur be in the thickest of any argument, yelling bitterly, rising. “I never could have believed, . 268 Everybody's Magazine Mr. Annit, that you'd ever forsake us. But stay to Sunday-school. I'll be there to teach there, we've got a losing team, which makes the class, ye know.” some difference." “I'll tell them and I'll be there for one,” “Wilbur!” cried Emory, staggering to his sighed the boy, his face softening. feet and shaking a finger before the upturned “That's right,” cried the old man heartily. “It's a bully lesson, Wilbur. All about the Saviour and the children. He never forgot the younkers." "I guess that's so,” muttered the boy, half abashed. “No, sirree!” continued Emory joyously. “And I guess I love Him best when he had the children around Him. He never sent 'em away, ye see, and He never kept away from 'em, either.” "I know," mumbled the boy bashfully. Emory stroked his chin in silence for a few seconds and looked up into the blue. “Never kept away from 'em,” he repeated only half aloud. Then abruptly, “What time does the į game begin?" “Two o'clock," was the listless response. “Umph. Never quit 'em when He could be with 'em, in their study or in their play, did He? No, sirree! Of course not. Two o'clock, eh? All right, Wilbur. Have a brave heart and tell Jim Whitten to daub on a little more liniment. Good-by.” NNN A DEEP VOICE BOOMED ACROSS THE PASTURE. The rough pasture lot was fringed with spectators as the two nines opened the last freckled face, “if ye ever say anything like game of the season. The year before, the that again I'll larrup ye, jest to prove I still visitors had won the series. Now the teams have ye and them other younkers in mind. were tied and with young Whitten in poor Why, what d’ye mean, ye ungrateful young form, it looked as if a second defeat would be Forsake the boys! Why, God bless my soul! scored for Peevy's Mills. The men lounged when did I ever forsake 'em?” quietly abouton knolls and rocks and “Never till now," whimpered Wilbur. whittled thoughtfully. The women frowned “Wal, I ain't doing it now," defended at the deft practise of the visitors and openly Emory weakly. “I'm preparing for weighty exchanged expressions of condolence, careless things and a more serious life. I'm gitting that supporters of the visitors might overhear. too old to be chasing after such rinktums." Now it was a curious thing that though Then, with pride, “Ye see, I'm to be taken Mrs. Annit had prohibited her husband from into the church to-morrer, and I can't go attending the game, she herself had yielded to there fresh from howling myself hoarse and the pleadings of Mr. Sedgwick's wife and had sassing the empire at a ball game. I'm com- joined the outer ring of bystanders. She posing my mind to-day, for to-morrer will be had not deemed it necessary to inform her a proud day for me." And the hint of a tear spouse of her destination when she left the glistened in his boyish blue eyes. “And, house, and was now calm and complacent in Wilbur, I want ye to tell the others I ain't the knowledge that she was ever immune forgot 'em, and that this strong right arm,” from unseemly enthusiasm. It was also and he bunched corded muscles that time comforting to realize that though she had had only increased, “and this old voice is denied him the spectacle, she could make it always at their sarvice when it don't interfere possible for him to enjoy an eye-witness's with Christian grace and dignity. And, report of the game. Only, he must not be Wilbur, tell 'em all to be at church to-morrer thus delectated until safely within the church. to enjoy my victory over the flesh, as well as to At the outset, young Whitten pitched with The Probationer and the Pennant 269 ranks and assumed control of the home team. So could all the others hear him. Some said his voice carried a mile that day. Anyway, not a word was lost to the joyous players, as his shrewd old mind engineered a triumph out of difficult and dangerous situations for several innings. Then it became obvious that young Whitten was failing fast. Instead of snapping the ball in hurriedly he paused after each de- livery, as if collecting his strength, and in the eighth inning it was only the loud-voiced advice of Emory that kept the score down to five to four in favor of the enemy. “I can't pitch another ball,” sobbed the exhausted youth, throwing himself on his face as the home team was about to take the field for the last inning. "Jest once more," coaxed Wilbur. “I'd do it if it killed me, if I could. But I can't,” choked the boy. “Hurry along with another pitcher," advised the umpire.. “We ain't got another one,” bitterly ad- mitted Wilbur, his face grimacing as he all his old-time vigor, but the knowing ones detected a disposition to hurry through the game, as if he had just so much energy to be used within a given period of time. For two innings not a man on either side passed first base, and Peevy's Mills began to wax confident and to discredit all rumors of a lame arm. But in the third, one of the visitors made a two-base hit and was advanced to third on a single, with none out. "I can't see how folks with mature minds can enjoy a thing like this,” Mrs. Annit was yawning as the spectators gloomily awaited the first score, apparently inevitable, when a deep voice boomed across the pasture, "Remember the play, Wilbur." Mrs. Annit, with an ejaculation of angry sur- prise, craned her neck to scan the outskirts of the crowd across the diamond. “D'ye hear that voice?" she mutured grimly to her com- panion. “D'ye hear that pesky man of mine? And him expecting to be admitted to-morrer.” But Mrs. Sedgwick, with mouth agape and with eyes only for the sport, was eagerly noting the swift change now apparent in the home team's demeanor, and heard nothing. Every man had stiffened at the first word and the infield was grinning with new courage. Young Whitten almost made a balk as he followed the crowd's example and swiftly turned his head. His arm was completing a final circle as the real significance of the shouted words filtered home, and Wilbur, be- hind the bat, gave a sharp yelp of ecstasy -and changed his signal. And the arm, entering upon another circle, made a pretense of cutting the plate, but in reality threw wide and swift, and the man on first, confident in a goodly lead and the man on third as a deterrent, scuttled for second. But Wilbur, heeding the old man's call, shot the ball not to second, but to the short-stop; and the man on third, deceived by the short throw, started to score. Before the spectators could remember to cheer, the ball was re- turned home and smacked on Wilbur's mitt- the runner was out. The next two batters went down quickly. The shouting of the happy crowd at first drowned Mrs. Annit's remarks, but when the clamor had subsided she repeated, “I see him now. And I left him at home, reading his Bible.” And in sour derision she pointed at her husband's sturdy form, now approach ing the side lines. She could hear him, too, as throwing aside all caution he edged his way to the front UN W IN! su Robes "AND I LEFT HIM AT HOME, READING HIS BIBLE." fought back tears of chagrin. “This is a small village and poor Jim was our only man. That's what's done him. He's pitched his arm off.” 270 Everybody's Magazine “We've got this game," cried Emory, found the glooming face of his class-leader, kneeling beside the disconsolate youth, “if but the work before him must now be done, we can only make a shift. There must be and swinging and doubling his arm a few some one." times he cautiously tossed a rainbow that “There ain't no one," said Wilbur in Wilbur in complete dejection caught with one despair. “Even if we could play with eight hand. “Try them a little harder," begged men, there isn't a man on the team who the boy. would amount to shucks--not against these “Can ye hold me?” beamed the old man, fellers.” now evidencing a degree of elasticity with his “Can't stay here all day. If you don't want right leg that caused his wife to gasp in to play it out, we'll take the game," drawled astonishment as she peeped through her the captain of the visitors. “If I had a extra fingers, man, I'd lend him to you. Either put in “I could hold a cannon-ball if there was another pitcher-we don't care who-or else only someone to shoot it," lamented the quit." catcher. “Play ball, or lose the game," agreed the Emory clumsily pivoted on one heel, umpire. “I'll give you two minutes.” stabbed his toe forward, and delivered one “We must git some one,” whispered Emory that cut the edge of the plate and sharply in a shaky voice. snapped Wilbur's feet and head forward. "Talking is all right, but who?” said Wil- “That's better,” stuttered the youth; "those bur, jeering, for very bitterness of spirit. are the kind!” “Who is there in all Peevy's Mills that can “Batter up!” cried the umpire, and young throw even a swift, straight Watkins, shaking with laugh- ball? This is the dodrotted- ter, selected a stick and care- est, dangdest " lessly took his position. “Here! Quit that, young Then did the old man's man,” ordered Emory sternly. eyes bulge and before the “I played ball before your bat could be lifted the ball father was old enough to play slapped in Wilbur's mitt and marbles. So there's one. Only the umpire in a hushed voice we threw nothing but those was saying, “Strike one!” straight, underhand balls. I Young Watkins braced him- don't know anything about self and gazed with new in- these curves you're all learn- terest on the pitcher. The ing nowadays.” next ball went high and was Play ball!” cried the um- ignored. Then, smack! it pire, snapping his watch was shot back almost as soon cover. And Mrs. Annit gave as it touched the old man's one low cry of horror as pawing, calloused palms, and she beheld her husband the striker realized that he pulling off his coat as he had swung a second too late. walked awkwardly toward “Wal, I never!” grunted the box. Mr. Sedgwick, adjusting his “And he was going to be glasses more firmly and took in to-morrer," exclaimed frowning heavily as he ad- Mrs. Sedgwick, while her hus- vanced a few paces. band, who had joined them, “Oh, the burning disgrace removed his spectacles and of it!” moaned Mrs. Annit, examined the lenses before as the jeers and cheers swept he believed that his eyes were “TRY THEM A LITTLE HARDER." DER." over hor over her. reporting truly. Then he “Look!” shrieked Mrs. grew red of face and ejaculated, “Huh!” Sedgwick, brushing her husband aside. The monosyllable pierced Mrs. Annit like “He's got two strikes on the young varmint. a knife and she bowed her head in shame And, mercy! ain't he going to send in a hot as the grinning umpire generously offered, one now!” “I'll give you a few seconds to limber up in." “Bet ye a good five-cent seegar ye don't The old man winced a trifle as his eyes strike him out, Emory," challenged some one. The Probationer and the Pennant 271 “Take ye!” cried the old man excitedly, caused him to wheel just in time to see a long working both arms in a bewildering manner fly captured in center field. And no scores. as he crouched over the ball, and then spin- “I know," she whimpered; "he's lost his ning about like a gigantic teetotum as he chance. He's lost his chance. And him a held it on high. old man.” “What!” gasped Brother Sedgwick, drag- “It's too bad,” condoled Mrs. Sedgwick ging yet a step nearer. piously, relaxing in rigidity as the teams “That settles all,” said Mrs. Annit dully. crossed on the diamond. “Of course the “Mister Smarty church must frown loses his seegar," on such actions, es- jeered Mrs. Sedg- pecially in the wick, dancing wildly. old " For Emory, after ap- "And especially parently collecting gambling,” reminded every atom of her husband gloom- strength in his tall ily, as he scanned the frame, compressed it preliminary maneu- into his strong right vers of young Wat- arm, and with a final, kins. spasmodic show of “He's lost his last fierceness, delivered chance,"sobbed Mrs. the ball, but released Annit. it so easily and slowly "Mebbe,” sighed that young Watkins Mrs. Sedgwick, nod- swung viciously when ding her head. Then it was three feet from starting forward, the plate. “But I really believe "Abigail!” ejacu- he's going to win the lated the horrified game.” class-leader. For now that “Nothing matters Peevy's Mills was at now," said Mrs. bat, Emory, oblivious Annit, sadly, but " LOOK! HE'S GOT TWO STRIKES ON THE YOUNG to all but the task with quickening eye before him, was limp- as the crowd hoarse- ing painfully along ly applauded her husband's prowess. the base-line, coaching and kicking up dust “He struck him out,” repeated Mrs. as if it had been his daily work from child- Sedgwick joyously, as one imparting an ex hood, while young Watkins scowled in nerv- clusive news item. ous uncertainty. But the first man up hit It was several seconds before Wilbur could short and was beaten by the ball to first. control himself sufficiently to attend to his “Don't try to strike 'em so hard. Take duties, and even as the ball was being de- it easy,” begged Emory of the next youth. livered he stretched forth his arms in an This advice resulted in a leisurely effort and ecstatic desire to embrace the perspiring old the ball just cleared the short-stop's head. man. But the first ball to the next batter “Oh, what has he sacrificed!” moaned was only moderately swift and was promptly Mrs. Annit, wiping her eyes and leaning knocked to short with the runner retiring at forward. first. “He shouldn't sacrifice," snarled the class- “Well pitched!” cheered Mrs. Sedgwick leader. “He should bang, But, anyhow, as the next man dodged. that's one man on base.” “I'm surprised at ye,” grieved her husband, A pop-fly retired the next batter and sent pushing a small boy aside. Then decisively, the spectators back from the pasture into the “He ain't gitting 'em high enough.” shadows of the fringing trees. As he spoke, a two-bagger was pounded out “Pretty didoes for a would-be church- and he sniffed heavily and frowned on the member to be cutting up," growled a towns- staring Mrs. Annit. “Sister, I'm sorry," he man standing near. began in his official voice, when a shout “It's all over. We might as well go home," VARMINT!" ZA TA Пора "I AM HERE ON A SAD ERRAND, BROTHER ANNIT." said Mr. Sedgwick testily, clutching his He caught her words even above the up- wife's arm. Then to the sad-faced Mrs. roar and in pleased wonder glanced up the Annit, “Try and bear up, sister. I'm sorry third base-line where three figures, apart from my duty called me here to witness his lack the others, were prancing stiffly and madly of grace, of—ah-moral fiber. Ahem. But waving handkerchiefs. some one must act the spy-ah-in order that With a broad smile of renewed confidence gossip shall not-ahem-wrong a man. Now he turned to his work, but the second of that we know of our own knowledge " inattention cost him dear, as already the “Hooray for Emory!” broke in the frenzied umpire was reluctantly calling a strike. crowd, and in the middle of a word Sedgwick “Robber!” cried a voice, which some said stopped and stared as one fascinated at the old resembled Sedgwick's. man approaching the plate. “Keep watch of it, Emory,” shrieked a “It'll soon be over. It is over-" began woman. Mr. Sedgwick, wetting his dry lips and un- “Hooray! hooray!" clamored the crowd. consciously crowding forward to the base-line, And Emory, catching the fever, stepped up closely attended by his wife and Mrs. Annit. and down as if treading on live coals, and “Naturally a good man, too,” he con- pounded the plate hungrily. tinued in his wife's ear, and then added, “One ball!” cried the umpire. “But the sun's in his eyes and he's a goner.” “Wait for a nice one, husband." Mrs. Annit, catching only the last word, “Two strikes!” continued the umpire. changed in demeanor and countenance most “Hit it! Swat it, brother!” wonderfully. With flashing eyes she con “Two balls!" barked the umpire. fronted the astounded class-leader and “Hooray! hooray!” shouted, “Ye think so, do ye? Ye think so, And Emory, setting his jaws, allowed no eh? Wal, let me tell ye, church or no church, more to pass him, but met the next with a my man ain't lost yet- mighty crash, and the man on first began “Why, he may make first,” spluttered cantering home. Sedgwick. “One will tie! two will win!” sobbed Mrs. “Go it, Emory!" encouraged Mrs. Annit Sedgwick, and the crowd, realizing that a shrilly, now ignoring the Sedgwicks. “Go home run meant victory for Peevy's Mills, it! Whang that contraption out of sight.” ran imploringly along the base-line and 272 The Probationer and the Pennant 273 pleaded for the slow-footed runner to ac- celerate his gait. “Oh, faster, faster, Emory!” cried his wife, as she stood wringing her hands at third and in agony watched him slowly turn second base, while the center-fielder was speeding swiftly after the ball. "Faster. Jest a mite faster, Em,” she sobbed, as with a strained, exultant face he staggered toward her, while his class-leader, with body rocking, extended his arms and gave an excellent pantomime of a man rescuing a fellow creature by pulling in a rope. "He's got the ball!” bawled the crowd in warning as Emory turned the last corner and pounded heavily along for home. "Slide!” bellowed the class-leader, as the fielder shot the ball to second, whence it was hurtled home. A cloud of dust answered the warning. "He never teched him," choked Mrs. An- nit, who had tottered along beside her spouse until he plunged headlong for the plate. "Not by a foot," agreed the red-faced umpire. “Wife, come home," commanded Mr.Sedg- wick sourly as he straightened her bonnet. An hour later Mrs. Annit stood by the kitchen sink anxiously studying her husband's bowed and dusty form. “Emory,” she said softly, "it was a nice game and ye played beautifully.” “Thanks,” he returned dully. “But I want ye to promise ye'll never play it again." "I've quit,” he sighed, not lifting his head. “Quit when it's too late.” “And-and, I want to say,” she faltered, “I rather liked the dashing way ye played.” "I used to be a hummer," he confided in sad complacency. “And—but Lawd! Here's Brother Sedg- wick and some o' the other brethren." "I'll meet 'em in the yard,” he announced ruefully, as he rose. "No," she begged, her face softened. “I'm to blame, too; I cheered ye on a bit. Let's meet it together-here." He turned to her in wonder and rubbed his head dubiously. "I thought ye'd have it in for me- Come in.” Brother Sedgwick headed the delegation and without accepting a chair said, after coughing dryly, “I am here on a sad errand, Brother Annit. Ye was at a ball game to-day.” The accused bowed his head meekly. “And we also hear ye played in a ball game to-day and displayed a lack of dignity that ain't becoming to a church-member," Brother Durgin harshly took up the charge. “He won the game,” wailed Mrs. Annit, taking her husband's hand. “And we hear ye wagered a seegar," com- pleted Brother Weevy sternly. Emory sighed deeply and made an affirma- tive noise. “All of which is very bad,” said Brother Sedgwick sorrowfully. “The game might be overlooked, but the seegar is bad, very bad." “He said a good five-cent—" began Emory, who had been lost in introspection. “It's all very bad,” repeated Brother Sedgwick, with a slight touch of temper. “I know what ye mean," groaned Emory. “But it's the hardest on my wife, here. My intentions was good— ” “Ahem!” broke in the class-leader, study- ing the floor thoughtfully. “The ball playing could be overlooked, if ye'd promise never to play it again, or football, without the church's consent. But of course—I'm sorry to say it—the gambling " “I suppose it would help some if he refused to take the seegar," suggested Durgin softly. “Refuse to take it!” cried Emory. “Why, I bet with Bill Hussey an' he'll never pay it. Wild hosses couldn't drag it from him. I know, because once " “Tut, tut," broke in Brother Sedgwick. “Why, then,” declared Brother Weevy, "there really wa’n't no wager made. I believe, Brother Sedgwick, we-eh?”. “Why, I'm inclined to say-ahem! Mr. Annit, are ye using any liniment on that arm?” inquired the class-leader anxiously. “No," sighed Emory. “Wal, ye'd better. Anyhow, if it's lame to-morrer, don't let that keep ye from church.” “I'm-I'm-ye don't mean—" stuttered the old man wistfully. “He's to be took in?" gasped Mrs. Annit. “Yaas," drawled Brother Sedgwick, grin- ning lamely. “All the boys will be there. Good day.” And the delegation departed. But before the astounded couple could find words, the door creaked open a few inches and Brother Sedgwick's face, radiant with ad- miration, was thrust in to observe, “Great game, Em. Simply g-r-e-a-t." * 394123 * AX LITTLE STORIE OF REAL LIFE A Good Shot “Whew! reg'lar bronco-buster!” said a good-natured jeerer at the girl's elbow. By Charlotte Wilson “Plumb woolly, ain't she?" responded his companion heartily. W OW! look at the cow-lady!” “Good leg,” contributed a third, clinching Mr. Dial, riding at the girl's right, the matter laconically. turned fiercely upon the speaker. The wag The girl's imperturbable face showed no was a well-dressed young man, with his hat change of expression, but for the fraction of on one side, leaning against a post. He a second, it wavered upward toward the face laughed, but made no further comment. Sis of her big companion. Bill wore his usual herself turned her unbetraying gaze upon easy-going smile. him for an unmoved instant, then she glanced Mr. Dial was already clearing his throat, at the rider on her left. He was looking in preparation for his congenial duties. He back over his shoulder at a girl who had was a wiry, smooth-shaven man of about paused in a shop door to gaze after the passing fifty, with a sort of grudging agility in his trio. movements. Nature had designed him for It was small wonder that she looked at Bill. a showman; never was his small, stiff figure so In spite of his buckskin shirt and breeches, effective, his shrewd blue eyes were never so his spurs, his sombrero-above all, the long, alert, as when he stood in the center of a circle black, artificial curls falling crisply about his of incredulous, smiling faces. First, he in- splendid shoulders—not a man on the street troduced Bill, giving a lively sketch of his ear- would have mistaken him for a real cowboy. ly life which that desperado—had he been He was too realistic to be convincing, too listening-would have been the last to recog- spectacular, too complete. Of his remark- nize. Next, he reached the place in his stream able good looks, however, there could hardly of picturesque hyperbole where the girl, be two opinions. A fine smile lurked in his knowing her cue, stepped forward. lazy eyes; his huge body fell naturally into “This here," proceeded Mr. Dial, “is my lines of shiftless grace. little girl. Me an' her usually assists more or Sis was thin and young, with a sort of less at the Great Wild Bill's performances. weather-beaten hardihood and reserve. She For a lady ropist and rider, she is as remark- had a trick of smiling with her blue eyes out of able as her famous prototype.” Mr. Dial a face half contemptuous, half indulgent, that was evidently under the impression that that was strangely winning. Her usual attitude, substantive indicated Bill very neatly and however, was one of businesslike severity. euphoniously. “But her main accomplish- When the three reached the improvised ments is in the shootin' line. I'll guarantee exhibition-grounds, their destination, Bill that she'll show you gentlemen some shootin' flung his huge body dramatically from the to-day that'll raise your hair!” saddle, and Sis dismounted with the exagger- Finally, Mr. Dial outlined his unique plan ated sprightliness that her uncle and manager, of proceeding. Denuded of verbal ornament, Mr. Dial, had been at such pains to teach it was simply this: First, Bill was to give “a her. They tied their ponies to a straggling few specimens of his shootin'." Next, he and fence and made their way through the scat- Sis were to pass among the crowd and pin a tering crowd to the open place whither Mr. pink ticket, such as Mr. Dial held aloft as he Dial had impatiently preceded them. talked, on every man's coat. “Ladies," con- 274 Little Stories of Real Life 275 ceded Mr. Dial with a gallant flourish, "is D uring the interval Mr. Dial had allowed free." After the performance, the decorative for the distribution of the pink tickets, it pink tickets were to be collected, together with caused her to look up involuntarily from her “two bits” from every honest spectator they businesslike attention to her task. She had adorned. Well aware of the weak point glanced across at the group, just in time to see in his scheme, Mr. Dial artfully insinuated Bill replacing his sombrero. The young men his unshakable faith in the crowd's incorrupti- were still laughing hilariously. It seemed ble honesty, and his contempt for “them as that one person in the crowd had seized would take somethin' fer nothin'.” As a the opportunity to shake the hand of the special reward for fair dealing, he added that Celebrity. any one who felt so inclined would have the At last the time came for the collection of golden opportunity to “shake the hand of the the tickets. Bill and Mr. Dial had shot from Celebrity.” every possible point of disadvantage. Bill “One word more, gentlemen," he con- had even given his great exhibition of horse- cluded. “This here little girl," he said taming, which consisted in dashing elabo- slowly, “ 's I said before, is my little girl. It rately around the ring a few times upon a ain't necessary to say more'n that to gentle- perfectly moral and conservative animal hired men.” His keen blue eyes glittered mean- from the livery-stable, whose only claim to ingly over the crowd. Then he called out viciousness rested upon the possession of a briskly, “Wild Bill, the Great Texas Cowboy, mane and tail of Stygian black. The girl, will now begin on the First Act: out from in her collecting, had reached a point not under, gentlemen!” far from the laughing group, when she was The exhibition went off with a flourish. startled by an angry oath. The man chal- The two men shot between legs and over lenged promptly retorted in kind. Suddenly shoulders; shot marbles tossed into the air the altercation dropped as abruptly as it had into little whiffs of dust; begun, and Sis followed and performed other im- the general movement of possible feats with stu- heads and craning of died ease. Sis stood necks to see Bill passing quietly by, handing her quietly on, and to hear uncle the small accessories his soft drawl, this time of the performance, and with a peculiar edge to surveying the crowd. its good humor, saying They were arranged in a contemptuously, “Didn't pretty compact semicircle you see that lady yonder, about the little grassy de- you fool?” pression. There were The last great act was not many women among about to begin. Bill lay them. On the extreme stretched on the grass, left tip of the crescent, reclining on one elbow, however, a smart little in an attitude of the equipage had just drawn most approved pictur- up, containing one femi- esqueness. His head was nine figure that Sis in- piu kolcandiata) thrown back, his splendid stantly recognized. The chest displayed to the rough wind blew long, best advantage, his eyes graceful wisps of the girl's dark hair across were traveling recklessly across the inter- her face. She had a pretty, irritated way of vening stretch of grass to the girl on the putting it back as she talked to the young edge of the crowd. Sis stood a few yards men who had gathered about her. Sis did away, alert, waiting. Her face, unrelieved not miss a detail of her dress, the victorious by that surprising blue-eyed light of her poise of her little head, the soft, musical rush smile, was weather-worn and unenchanting. of her chattering voice. It was the girl who Yet it was very young; its very hardness had paused in the shop and smiled at Bill rendered the fact of its youth more ap- as he passed. Again and again her soft, gay parent. Her hair was sunburnt to the lus- laugh was blown across to the girl in the terless straw color of her face, and strag- arena. gled into her eyes in straight wisps. She AS NU THE PASSING TRIO. 276 Everybody's Magazine wore a short corduroy skirt, with the un- dishes came intermittently from somewhere lovely hitch in the front and despondent in the rear. droop in the back that is the unpardon- Without stirring, Bill opened his eyes. He able sin in such a garment. Yet there was turned them idly to the window, where they something in the slight, rough figure and un- rested upon the small profile, with its short smiling face that inspired respect. nose and drooping mouth. It was a young “We are now ready, ladies and gentle- girl's face, a very young girl's face; but it had men,” announced Mr. Dial impressively, “for all the repression, the uncomforted patience, the last great act. I must request you to be of a woman's. Something like this passed quiet fer a few minutes, as this here's a tick- through Bill's mind as he lay staring at it; lish performance. I call yer attention to the it roused a strange, slow interest there. He fact that the Great Texas Cowboy is smok- felt strange, anyhow ; curiously clean and ing a cigar. This here little girl will, in a comfortable, detached from everything he minute, shoot the ashes off'n that there had ever seen or known, even from his ac- cigar slick as a whistle, without disturbin' customed self. his enjoyment of its superior flavor in “Sis!” he called softly. the leastwise.” Then, under cover of the The girl turned. After a moment's hesi- ripple of amusement that followed, he mut- tation she rose from her place and crossed tered kindly, “Dang it, Sis, watch out fer the the room to the bed. Her heels struck wind!” sharply on the bare floor. As she came The girl answered with a curt nod, and within the circle of light from the lamp, the took her station in silence. The crowd be- man saw that her eyes were red. Again he came very still. Bill lay motionless, osten- was conscious of a strange stir of feeling. sibly gazing across at the hazy trees of “Sit down, Sis,” he commanded gently. the distant, encircling woods. Sis took aim The girl sat down upon the side of the bed, steadily, her trained eye upon the cap of near the foot. ashes on the tip of the half-finished cigar. “Bone-tinkers gone?” asked the man. Suddenly, across the wind-whipped silence, His voice, always slow and gentle, had that rippled the soft rush of that laughing voice, additional quality that pain so soon puts “Oh, please tell her not to kill him! Isn't into a man's voice--a helpless note that goes he splendid?” swiftly home to the hearts of women folk. Her eye wavered involuntarily. At the same The girl nodded without raising her eyes. instant came Mr. Dial's familiar “Ready- A gleam of Bill's old fun shone in his eyes. go!” and the next, the crowd heard the sharp “Say you'd kil't me, Sis?”. report, and began rushing toward the center “No," she answered shortly. of the arena. In an instant Mr. Dial was Bill laughed sympathetically. “Well, that's upon the spot, waving the crowd away with all right, Sis," he said kindly. “Told Hep an authoritative arm, while he slipped the he'd ought to do that there Cigar Act his- other with swift skill under the fallen head of self, to-day. Best shot can't always 'low the man on the grass. The girl stood un- jest right fer the wind.” noticed, watching the scene with wide eyes, There was no answer. It was part of Bill's motionless, until she heard Mr. Dial's voice strange state that he began to feel embar- sing out cheerily: rassed. Sis sat staring down at her hands, "Clear the way now, please, gentlemen! twisting them together in her lap. He's comin' to—it's nothin' but the shoulder. Suddenly he felt the bed shake. There My little girl here, she fergot to 'low fer the was the strange sound of a sob in the room. wind!” “Why-Si-is!” said the man, stupefac- tion in his voice. He tried to raise himself Sis sat at the window of the Oak Leaf on his elbow, but the pain in his shoulder Hotel. Sometimes she cast a quick glance caught him, and he dropped back, white across the room, to where, by the low-turned through his tan. light of the kerosene lamp, the huge figure “Come here, Sis,” he said weakly. outlined under the bedclothes could be seen The girl obeyed. He laid his free arm lying perfectly still. At the restaurant across about her heaving shoulders. the way they were chopping chilli-meat. In “Why, Si-is!” he repeated helplessly. the house there was the savory, pervasive S he only shook convulsively, while the smell of cooking; and the cheerful clatter of sound of her sobbing filled the room. He Little Stories of Real Life 277 "THIS HERE IS MY LITTLE GIRL." took his arm from her shoulders and patted slow, strange thoughts. The smells and the rough head clumsily. sounds of cheerful preparation in the house as- “Why, Sis!” he expostulated at last, in his sailed his senses, and gradually made their way soft, slow voice. “I never seen you take on into his thoughts, connecting them in a new like this—never did, sure! I thought you way with good, wholesome, homely things. wasn't the cryin' “Sis," he said kind, Sis-sure I did! softly. An' here you go, tak- She crept a little in' on 'cause you give closer, but made no old Bill a scratch- answer. he ain't no good no- “I've knowed you how-all on account ever since you was a of a pesky wind that baby, Sis," said Bill, nobody-" in a slow, husky At last she broke in voice. Then an odd wildly. "It wa’n't note of bashfulness the wind!” she said. crept into it. “I Bill's eyes widened reckon I've been a in the dim light. considerable fool, “What you mean, Sis,” he said. Sis?” heasked gently. The girl made a “O Bill, don't little, violent move- you know?" she ment. It gave Bill burst out despairing- a twinge, but in his ly. Then, with a eyes there dawned fierce change of atti- lokas Wolcott Adam the wan forerunner tude, “There there of a grin. “I'm ain't nothin' to tell! darned sure I have, Only—” She stopped short, strangling her Sis,” he amended gently. sobs. She suffered him to draw her back to him, The man's face had taken on a curious and Bill grew grave again, as if he were look- change. His big hand shook a little as he ing into the future, and his slow vision saw patted her shoulder. “Go on, Sis,” he said new pictures there. He patted the girl gently, soothingly. “Tell old Bill all about it.” from time to time, as he followed his thoughts. She spoke at last, in a strange voice, shaken After a while he spoke again. "Look at now and then by a hard, recurrent sob. “It me, Sis,” he said. was that girl,” she said, her face turned away. She lifted her head—the small, fierce face “She had black eyes. When we was col- and the telltale eyes. He looked at her for a lectin' an' men joshed about me in the crowd, long moment. you never paid no attention; you never do. “Sis,” he said presently, and though he Hep, he always jumps on to 'em when he spoke jocularly, his voice shook, “that was a hears 'em, but you never care whut they say good shot o'yourn. Far's I can see, it blew But when that guy kicked up that row near up the whole bloomin' rejeem.” Then the old where she was, you jumped on to him, quick odd note of embarrassment crept in. “Look enough! She's a lady. I wasn't three here, Sis,” he blurted at last, “what d'you say yards away, but I've heard cussin' before, and to us gettin' married right off-soon's we can I ain't got black eyes ner fine clothes—" She patch up this here offendin' member-an' checked herself with a hard sob. quittin' this here fake-show business fer “Go on, Sis,” said the man. good, an' livin' sort o’genteel an' respectable? The girl was silent. Then, at last: “There Think that'd suit you any better-eh, Sissy?” ain't nothin' else. But-it wa’n’t the wind!” For once she acted without repression or The man's sick body was trembling. restraint. She took his face between her “Come up here, Sis—come closer,” he said. hands with a fierce movement of possession With a broken sob she obeyed; and for a and kissed him. Then she rose unsteadily long time he held her as she crouched beside to her feet. him, her face hidden, while he stared up into Bill held fast to her hand. “Wher the dim-lit room with eyes that mirrored many goin' now, Sis?” he asked reproachfully. 278 Everybody's Magazine A strange smile of woman-wisdom looked bors might not wish to become an architect, down at him out of the girl's blue eyes. but if he were transported to Paris or Vienna “I'm goin' to see to yer supper,” she an to a confrontation of what is excellent in swered huskily. proportion, it might be that art would stir in his spirit and, after years of imitation, would come forth in a stately and exquisite proces- sion of buildings. So in his native woods The Parrot the parrot recognizes nothing but color that is worthy ci his imitation. But in the By Gouverneur Morris habitations of man, surrounded by taste, which is the most precious of all gifts, his LTE had been so buffeted by fortune, ambition begins to grow, his ignorance be- 01 through various climates and various comes a shame. He places his foot on the applications of his many-sidedness, that when first rung of the educational ladder. His I first met Leslie it was difficult to believe him bright colors fade, perhaps; the eyes of his a fellow countryman. His speech had been mind are turned toward brighter and more welded by the influence of alien languages to ornamental things. What creature but a a choice cosmopolitanism. His skin, thick parrot devotes such long hours to the and brown from blazing sunshines, puckered acquirement of perfection in each trivial stage monkey-like about his blue, blinking eyes. of progress? What creature remembers so He never hurried. He was going to Hong- faithfully and so well? We know not what kong to build part of a dry dock for the we are, you and I and the rest of us; but if English Government, he said, but his am we had had the application, patience, and bitions had dwindled to owning a farm some ambition of the average parrot, we should be where in New York State and having a regu- greater men. But some people say that par- lar menagerie of birds and animals. rots are mean, self-centered, and malignan, His most enthusiastic moments of conver- They have, I admit, a crust of cynicism whic. sation were in arguing and might lead to that impres - anecdotalizing the virtues sion, and not unjustly, buv and ratiocinations of ani- underneath the parrot's mals and birds. The crotchets there beats a monkey, he said, was next great and benevolent to man the most clever, heart. Let me give you but was inferior to the an instance. elephant in that he had “In '88 my luck was no sense of right or wrong. down, and as a first step Furthermore, monkeys to raising it I shipped were im modest. Next before the mast in an came certain breeds of English bottom outward dogs. Very low in the bound from Hongkong to scale he placed horses; Java. Jaffray was the very high, parrots. cook, a big negro who “Concerning parrots,” owned a savage gray par- he said, “people are un- rot-a mighty clever bird der erroneous impressions, but to all intents and pur- but copying and imitation poses of a most unscru- are not unreasonable proc- pulous and cruel nature. esses. Your parrot under Many a time her clever- his bright cynical feathers ness at provoking a laugh is a modest fowl that phu Wolcotton was all that saved her grasps at every opportu- "I WAS FIERCELY ATTACKED." from sudden death. She nity of education from the bit whom she could; she best source-man. In a native state his intel- stole what she could. She treated us like ligence remains closed: the desire to be like a dogs. Only Jaffray could handle her without woodpecker or a humming-bird does not pick a weapon. Him she loved and made love to at the cover. Just as a boy born in an Indiana with a sheepish and resolute abandon. From village and observing the houses of his neigh- him she endured the rapid alternations of NTS Little Stories of Real Life 279 whippings and caressings with the most sto- failed. Polly sat in the stern sheet' timidly ical fortitude and self-restraint. When he cooing and offering to shake hands. At an- whipped her she would close her eyes and other time I should have burst laughing at say: 'I could bite him, but I won't. Polly's her—she was so coy, so anxious to please. a bad girl. Hit her again. When the But I had just arrived from seeing my cap- whipping was over she tain's head broken to would say: 'Polly's pieces by a falling spar sore. Poor Polly! How and a good friend of I pity that poor girl!' mine stabbed by an- Love - making usually other good friend of succeeded a whipping mine, and I was nearer in short order, and then to tears. she was at her best. “It was cold for that She would turn her part of the world, and head to one side, cast rain fell heavily from the most laughably time to time. Polly provoking glances, hold complained bitterly all one claw before her night and said that face, perhaps, like a she would take her skeleton fan, and say: death o'cold, but in Don't come fooling the morning (I had round me. Go away, fallen asleep) she you bad man.' waked me in her pleas- "I tried my best to antest and most satis- be friends with her. fied voice, saying, But only to prove that lobus Wolwi (issus “Tumble up for break- the knack that I am •• POOR POLLY," SAID SHE." fast.' I pulled myself supposed to have with out of the rain-water birds and beasts has its limitations. With into which I had slipped, and sat up. The one long day following another and oppor- sky and sea were clear from one horizon to tunity constantly at hand, I failed utterly the other and the sun was beginning to in obtaining her friendship. Indeed, she scorch. was so lacking in breeding as to make “Bully and warm, ain't it?' said Polly. public mockings of my efforts. There was “Right you are, old girl,' said I. no man before the mast but stood higher “She perched on my shoulder and began in her graces than I. My only success was to oil and arrange her draggled feathers. in keeping my temper. But it was fated that “What a hell of a wreck that was,' she we should be friends and comrades, drawn said suddenly, and, after a pause: ‘Where's together by the bonds of a common suffering. my nigger?' "I will tell you the story of the wreck an- “'He's forsaken you, old girl,' said I, ‘for other time. In some ways it was peculiar. I Mother Carey's chickens.' will only tell you now that I swam for a long “'Poor Polly,' said she; 'how I pity that time (there was an opaque fog) and bumped poor girl.' my head against one of the ship's boats. I “Now I don't advance for a moment the seized the gunnel and said, 'Steady her, theory that she understood all that she said, please, while I climb in,' but had no answer. nor even a part of what I said. But her state- The boat, apparently, had torn loose from ments and answers were often wonderfully her davits and gone voyaging alone. But as apt. Have you ever known one of those I made to climb in I was fiercely attacked in tremendously clever deaf people whom you the face by the wings, beak, and claws of may talk with for a long time before dis- Jaffray's graceless parrot. In the first sur- covering that they are deaf? Talking with prise and discomfiture I let go and sank. poor Jaffray's parrot was like that. It was Coming up, choking with brine and fury, I only occasionally—not often, mind—that her overcame resistance with a back-handed phrases argued an utter lack of reasoning blow, and tumbled over the gunnel into the power. She had been educated to what I boat. And presently I was aware that suppose to be a point very close to the limit violence had succeeded where patience had of a parrot's powers. At a fair count she had 280 Everybody's Magazine memorized a hundred and fifty sentences, a the wickedness of it. All the sins I had ever dozen songs, and twenty or thirty tunes to sinned, all the lies I had told, all the mean- whistle. Many savages have not larger vo- nesses I had done, the drunks I had been cabularies; many high-born ladies have a less on, the lusts I had sated, came back to me gentle and cultivated enunciation. Let me from the bilge-water. And I knew that if I tell you that had I been alone in that boat, a died then and there I should go straight to young man, as I then was, who saw his am- hell if there was one. I made divers trials bitions and energies doomed to a watery and at repentance but was not able to concentrate abrupt finish, with a brief interval of starva- my mind upon them. I could see but one tion to face, I might easily have gone mad. hope of salvation—to die as I had not lived But I was saved from that because I had like a gentleman. It was not a voluminous somebody to talk to. And to receive confi- duty, owing to the limits set upon conduct dence and complaint the parrot was better by the situation, but it was obvious. What- fitted than a human being, better fitted than a ever pangs I should experience in the stages woman, for she placed no bar of reticence, of dissolution, I must spare Polly and I could despair as I pleased and on my “In view of what occurred it is sufficiently own terms. obvious that I read my duty wrongly. For, “My clothes dried during the first day, and when I was encouraging myself to spare the at night she would creep under my coat to bird I should rather have been planning sleep. At first I was afraid that during un to save her. She, too, must have been suf- consciousness I should roll on her. But she fering frightfully from the long-continued lack was too wary for that. If I showed a tend- of her customary diet, but it seems that while ency to sprawl or turn over, she would wake enduring it she was scheming to save me. and pierce my ears with a sharp 'Take your “She had been sitting disconsolately on the time! take your time!' gunnel when the means struck suddenly into “At sunrise every day she would wake me her tortuously working mind and acted upon with a hearty “Tumble up for breakfast.' her demeanor like a sight of sunflower seeds, “Unfortunately there was never any break- of which she was prodigiously fond. If I fast to be had, but the rain-water in the bot- follow her reasoning correctly it was this: tom of the boat, warm as it was and tasting The man who has been so nice to me needs of rotting wood, saved us from a more fright food. He can't find it for himself; therefore ful trial. I must find it for him. Thus far she rea- “Here is a curious fact. After the second soned. And then, unfortunately, trusting night I realized and counted every hour in too much to a generous instinct, and disre- all its misery of hunger and duration, yet I garding the most obvious and simple calcu- cannot, to save my soul, remember how lation, she omitted the act of turning around, many days and nights passed between the and instead of laying the egg that was to wreck and that singular argument for a par- save me in the boat, she laid it in the ocean. rot's power of reasoning that was to be ad- It sank.” vanced to me. It suffices to know that many days and nights went by before we began Long voyages make for dulness. I had to die of hunger. listened to the above narrative with so much "In what remained of the rain-water (with interest as to lose for a moment my sense the slow oscillations of the boat it swashed of what was patent. In the same absurd about and left deposits of slime on her boards) way that one man says to another whom he I caught from time to time glimpses of my knows perfectly well, “What-is this you?" I face as affected by starvation. said to Leslie very eagerly, And it may interest you to know “Were you saved?" And he that it was not the leanness of answered, “No; we were both my face that appalled me but drowned.” Time M sit 18EU LE falsas TLEMIN A Row of Books By JOHAN BARRETT Mr. George Ade's humor is, I think, very generally regarded as a wine that needs no bush. But the truth is that much of it has been diverted to uses for which it was neither fitted nor in tended. Mr. Ade's fables, like Mr. Dooley's dissertations, do not bear transportation in bulk. They are vins du pays, refreshingly welcome in the open at harvest-time, or at the inn as one rests in passing; but it is a mistake to lay them down in bottle. In fact neither Mr. Ade's fables, nor Mr. Dooley's commentaries, nor, for that matter, any racy humor intended for singular and intermittent enjoyment, should be done into books. They cannot be read seriatim without cloying, and it is almost beyond ordinary con- tinence to pick up a book of such things and not sicken oneself of them before laying it down. But Mr. Ade has just published a story which, since it is written to be read as a whole, and since it has all the point and flavor of his most spon- taneous moods, may be enjoyed without fear of surfeit. It is called “The Slim Princess" (Bobbs-Merrill) and sketches the career of the ugly duckling of a Turkish harem, a young lady whom, to her family's despair, no treatment could bring to a marriageable fatness. The book is most alluringly illustrated and is altogether a witty and laughable bit of nonsense. out the grossest injustice, be likened to any portion of a “boiled dinner," it may stand for an excellent and creamy rice pudding. The basis of the story, which is written by Margaret P. Montague, is a mission of vengeance laid upon a young boy in the mountains of West Virginia by his dying father. The tale is full of variety, of action, and of a distinctly individual if somewhat idyllic responsiveness to nature. Its characters and its descriptions both show the author to be moving on fondly familiar ground. Yet one never-and here is the novel's determining flavor by which, according to one's taste, one may safely take it or leave it-one never doubts that one is being guided under the good old considerate rules of fiction and not under the ruthless laws of life. An unsmiling and sober proposal to incorpo- rate the Brotherhood of Man under the laws of the State of New Jersey is not, on its face, an announcement one is apt to regard overseriously. Yet this, as far as one can judge from the brief prospectus at the end of a bulky introductory volume just published, is to be the approximate modus operandi of “Gillette's Social Redemp- tion" (Turner). The temptation to dub the affair "The Millennium, Limited,” and pass it up with a laugh or a shrug is obvious. But in spite of its openness to ridicule, in spite of its unfortunate failure to give any adequate ex- planation of the promised “redemption,” the volume is neither valueless nor negligible. Civilization as we practise it is in need of a re- deemer; and, God-sent or Devil-sent, it is sooner or later going to find one. It is not that condi- tions to-day are more heinous in their unjustness than they have been in times past, but that a more intelligent, a more organized, and a more wide-spread conviction of the necessity of doing something about it is taking hold upon the popu- lar conscience. The more people that are in- I remember once, in the long ago when the Fifth Avenue Hotel still stood for the ultimate attainment in the possibilities of the "American plan," seeing a sturdy individual who was seated at my table wade confusedly through the all- embracing bill of fare and then ask for corned beef and cabbage with the relief of one who plays a safety in an unfamiliar game. The incident seems to emphasize the wisdom of including a homely and wholesome dish or two even in a literary menu, and, while “The Sowing of Alderson Cree” (Baker & Taylor) cannot, with- 281 282 Everybody's Magazine duced to realize this, the smoother will be the conversion of the world when the day of revela- tion dawns. Mr. Melvin L. Severy, the author of the book in question, has undertaken to com- pile for his readers what one might call a gazetteer of contemporary injustice. It is not entertaining It is not literature. It is not sensationalism. It is simply a stupendous recapitulation of more or less familiar facts and conditions, quoted from more or less authoritative sources, and connected by the author's running comment. Without therefore, passing any anticipatory judgment upon Gillette's redemption Trust, we venture to call the body of Mr. Ševery's book to the atten- tion of those who are willing to look the facts and the future in the face. with professional accuracy. Charles Wagner has flattered us. And many less distinguishable voices have said their less audible say about us. But no one of them has quite managed to catch us unawares, to eliminate from our portrait the stern frown or the conscious smirk of him who is sitting for his photograph. It has re- mained for Albert Kinross, in a delightful volume of informally connected sketches called “Daven- ant” (Dodd, Mead), to contrive with a wholly disarming courtesy, and with all the convincing- ness of the unexpected, to hold up a mirror for us to look into. The scheme of the book is as ingenuous as are most successful ambuscades. Davenant was an English writer, a scholar, and an idealist, wholly unsuccessful and unrecognized at home, but supported, not only physically, but in his ambitions and self-respect, by a scattered and occasional recognition across the Atlantic. America and the Americans had thus come to stand to him for the land of his desires and the blood-brothers of his dreams. Now and again one of these distant admirers, or one of their emissaries, came to him in his retreat, and it is by elaborating these encounters that Mr. Kinross fills out his estimate of America by one who had never seen it. The whole thing is so charmingly done; is so complete in its apparent fragmentari- ness and so direct in its seeming obliquity, that one commends it with assurance to all who ap- preciate the delicacy of a flank attack. Two volumes descriptive of widely differing but equally successful achievements of individual daring and resourcefulness are found among the recent publications and make, each in its own way, interesting or absorbing reading. One of these is Dillon Wallace's “The Long Labrador Trail” (Outing), a modest and unassuming record that will thrill the most intrepid lover of the portage, the rapid, and the open sky. Mr. Wallace was Leonidas Hubbard's companion in his tragic attempt upon this same wilderness in 1903. The present volume describes how, with four others, he returned to the attack, followed a lost Indian trail to Lake Michikamau, and thence, with a single companion, penetrated the unknown wil- derness, found the upper waters of the George River, and followed that tumbling torrent to its mouth on the north coast. The other is called “The Events Man” (Moffat, Yard), and is written by Richard Barry. It contains an account of Stanley Washburn's three months' cruise in the tugboat Fawan while acting as news- scout and despatch-bearer during Japan's war with Russia. The story is set down much as Washburn told it to the author later on, in Man- churia. It is decidedly more picturesque than literary, but in its spicy and idiomatic vocabulary, a conglomerate of colloquialism, pidgin-English, and journalese, it both expresses the daredevil spirit of newspaper enterprise and presents a panorama of the human riffraff that watched for plunder on the coasts of the Yellow Sea. Katherine Cecil Thurston's truncated novel. "The Mystics” (Harper), is even more disap- pointing than “The Gambler,” which itself failed to keep the promise of “The Masquerader.” The Mystics are a small sect of religious fanatics whose stock in trade consists of a book of revela- tions, a hidden temple in Scotland, a head- quarters in London the fittings of which smack of black paper cambric and phosphorus, and a firm belief in the present appearance of an in- spired prophet. The hero of Mrs. Thurston's tale is the nephew of one of the inner council who, when his uncle disinherits him in favor of the hierarchy, impersonates the prophet in order to regain his patrimony. The elaborate stage setting for the presumably coming drama has just been set up and the actors have but made their several entrances and indicated their rôles, when the final curtain is suddenly rung down upon a tableau hurriedly contrived and strongly sug- gestive of an accident behind the scenes. There is, however, no use in advising us not to read “The Mystics." We may have every confidence in the alertness of the literary lookout who sounds the warning. We may, and probably will, con- firm his judgment after the event. But the piquancy of "The Masquerader” is still fresh enough in our recollections to make most of us We Americans have had many chances lately of seeing ourselves as others choose to see us. Mr. James has used us as a reagent to test the freshness of his own acumen. Mr. Howells has poured over our achievements and our ideals the almost emollient lotion of his gentle satire. Mr. Wells has looked us over and sized us up A Row of Books 283 want to find out for ourselves, not only whether, but why, the author's latest story is a blank. In other words we are in like case with the setter pup which, having once unearthed a woodchuck from a hillside, can never pass the hole without a hopeful investigation. and the atheist minister converted to orthodoxy by a successful prison revolt, one finishes the book convinced that the experiment ought to be tried again and the guards doubled. Dolf Wyllarde is also out with a new novel called “As Ye Have Sown” (John Lane), which is the story of a young lady of wealth and position in London society, who, not being a wise child, does not know her own father. The book contains a great number of characters, and as the author seldom draws a character without making it something of a living soul, it is enjoyable on account of their life-likeness. The story, however, as regards its evident intention of being hortatory and im- proving, is void of effect. The hands are the hands of Esau, but the voice is Jacob's voice. OTHER BOOKS “The Siamese Cat” (McClure, Phillips)—A lively tale of the East by Henry M. Rideout. An entertaining and amusing bit of light literature. Guy Thorne and Dolf Wyllarde, whoever and whatever these names may connote off the literary stage, are, in their public and articulate capacities, essentially two of a kind. St. Louis used to tell the story of a Chicago girl and a Chinese girl who met, looked at each other's feet, and fainted. This is probably the way Guy Thorne and Dolf Wyllarde would regard each other's most salient characteristics. But they are none the less com- parable because, like the deuce of clubs and the deuce of diamonds, one of them is black and the other red. The author of “When It Was Dark” and “The Lost Cause," and the author of “Captain Amyas” and “The Rat Trap," are each possessed of ability and each lacking in balance. Each, if one may judge from the internal evidence of their writings, is sincere and imagines himself (or is one of them herself?) to be inspired and to have a mission. Yet each has gained a hearing, not because of his message but on account of the fortuitous sensationalism of its delivery; and each, without conscious charlatanism, is enjoying a charlatan's short-lived success. Guy Thorne's mission is to bring forgotten or neglected religious truths home to the reading public by a sort of dramatic reductio ad absurdum; stating, that is to say, in terms of realistic fiction, and as an ac- complished fact, some popular or anti-Christian assumption and then attempting to prove its dire and cataclysmic consequences. Dolf Wyllarde's aim is less obvious, but appears to be the shaming of the lusts of the flesh by pillorying them in the market-place. Both writers are enjoyed chiefly by those whom they attack. “John Glynn” (Henry Holt)-A story of charity committee work in the London slums. A good cotton-wool fabric of the near-Dickens variety. “The Mayor's Wife” (Bobbs-Merrill)—A new detective story by Anna Katharine Green. Verbum sat sapienti. "The Stolen Throne” (Moffat, Yard)—By Herbert Kaufman and May Isabel Fisk. Zenda's latest grandchild. Strong family resemblance, but a fine boy, with a way of his own. “The Smiths” (McClure, Phillips)—A com- monplace story of two commonplace Londoners, by Keble Howard. A misdirected attempt to practise the simple literature. “The Prado” (John Lane)—An interesting critique of the paintings in Madrid's famous gallery, by A. F. Calvert and C. G. Hartley, with over two hundred illustrations. Guy Thorne's latest work, “Made in His Image" (Jacobs), describes the introduction into England, by a socialistic Minister of Industrial Affairs, of a law condemning to slavery and segregation, in a penal colony established in Cornwall, all irreclaimable criminals, degenerates, and incapables. The object of the legislation is to solve the problem of the unemployed, and the whole situation is developed with the author's convincing plausibility. But when the iniquity of the proceeding is supposedly demonstrated, “The Castle of Doubt” (Little, Brown)—By John H. Whitson. A novel with a well-concealed mystery. Good enough reading at a pinch, but do not read the end first. “The Truth About the Case” (Lippincott)- Some curious incidents from the experiences of M. Goron, ex-chief of the Paris detective force. Edited by Albert Keyzer. FILE BALDI Mawla 2TLEMING LEMING Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree EDITOR'S NOTE.-A good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. Our read. ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. Though the sign is the Chestnut Tree, no story is barred by its youth. The younger the better. We shall gladly pay for available ones. Address all manuscripts to “The Chestnut Tree." The editor of a little Western paper' was in the hand, and, supposing Whistler to be a clerk, habit of cheering up his subscribers daily with a angrily confronted him. column of short pertinent comments on their "See here,” he said, "this hat doesn't fit." town, their habits, and themselves. The depart- Whistler eyed the stranger critically from head ment on account of its intimate personal flavor to foot, and then drawled out: was the most popular thing in the paper. “Well, neither does your coat. What's more, The editor, as he saw it growing in favor, if you'll pardon my saying so, I'll be hanged if gradually allowed himself a wider and wider I care much for the color of your trousers.' latitude in his remarks, until the town passed much of its time conjecturing “what he'd das't to say next.” On a hot day, when a simoom whistled gaily up the streets of the town, depositing everywhere One dark, gloomy day a well-known lit- its burden of sand, the editor brought forth this erary light (right name, Sydney Porter; gem of thought: write name, O. Henry) brightened up our "All the windows along Main Street need office with this little ray of sunshine: washing badly." The next morning he was waited on by a An effeminate young man daintily placed two platoon of indignant citizens who confronted cents on a drug-store counter and asked the clerk him with the paragraph in question fresh from for a stamp. The clerk tore one off and slid it the hands of the compositor and informed him over to him. The young man drew an envelope fiercely that he had gone too far. After a hasty from his pocket. and horrified glance he admitted that he had. “Would you mind licking it for me and placing It now read: it on here?" he lisped. “All the widows along Main Street need wash- “Sure," said the clerk, as he started to stamp ing badly." the letter. “Oh, stay!" cautioned the young man in great alarm. “Not that way, I beg of you. Kindly place the stamp with the top toward the outer The late James McNeil Whistler was stand- edge of the envelope." . ing bareheaded in a hat shop, the clerk having "Sure," said the obliging clerk. “But what in taken his hat to another part of the shop for com- thunder's that for?" parison. A man rushed in with his hat in his “Why, you see," confided the youth blushingly, 284 Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree 285 “I'm a student in the Cosmopolitan Corre- spondence School and that's our college yell.” Here is a faithful reproduction of the back of the check with its seven indorsements: This pleased us so that we printed it in “Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree," for June, giving Mr. Porter due credit for it under his write name. To show our appreciation further, we mailed him a check for $1.98, hay- ing deducted two cents, the price of the stamp referred to above, from our regular rate for such material. The rest of the story is best told in the following letter to Mr. Ridgway from Mr. Robert H. Davis, who does ground-and- lofty thinking for an esteemed contemporary: I Say to order of lichara Duffy Sysu Sorter to the order of Robert Davis The handlashy Pay to the neler Dammski Imenii } ти би одоо of Troy Kinney, 1. Bannister Merin, 1 May 16, 1907. MR. E. J. RIDGWAY, EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, Manhattan. My dear Ridgway: The enclosed check for $1.98, drawn to the order of Sydney Porter and issued from your counting-room in payment of one joke osten- sibly emanating from the said Porter, is herewith returned to you uncollected. You will observe that this check contains seven indorsements, all of which is bound to fill you with wonderment-stupefaction, perhaps that the check is not yet cashed. The situation is this: Porter permitted the joke to escape in EVERYBODY's office. It was printed in “Un- der the Spreading Chestnut Tree," and payment was promptly made. Porter, having received the joke originally from Richard Duffy, sent the check on to Duffy Duffy, affected by the unprecedented Por- terism, indorsed it over to the writer, through whom it came to Duffy. The writer, greatly affected by the tidal wave of punctiliousness that seemed to have submerged Porter and Duffy, reluctantly passed it along to Bannister Merwin. And then the torrent of conscientiousness backed up, seeking its true source. From Merwin it went to Troy Kinney, from Troy Kinney to Alice Duer Miller, from Alice Duer Miller to Hamilton King. King affixed his signature and burst into tears. At this juncture all efforts to find the missing link failed. The problem has become an issue. Perhaps gov- ernments may be drawn into it. Who can tell? Somewhere the all-unconscious author of this classic may be in absolute want. It is not improb- able that the $1.98 will save him from going to work. The sires of some of our very best jokes are in need of money most of the time. The waif must be brought back to its parent. It is your duty to set the wheels of your vast machine in motion to stir the pulse of the people and straighten this thing out. No man has ever yet got on the trail of a joke and brought up anywhere in particular. Perhaps a corporation would succeed. I speak for the six gentlemen and the one lady of record, who will be obliged if you will exhaust all honorable means to put the blame where it belongs, and to balm some willing hand with $1.98, which each and every one of us has possessed with mo- mentary joy and reluctantly released. Very truly yours, R. H. DAVIS. Pay to the raw of Alice Duen milieu Tray Kinney Pay to the order of Mamilton King Alice Deur Miller taunetowking. Let Diogenes anchor his tub in literary circles and behold-not one honest man, but six honest men and one honest woman! We take this occasion publicly to place on record 286 Everybody's Magazine “You do, indeed!” promptly assented the Britisher, as if pleased by the admission. But his exultation was of brief duration, for the Missouri man immediately concluded with: “But there ain't nobody can do it!" our firm belief that even had the check called for the full $2, the result would have been the same. But the great question still remains to be answered. Who is the man who told the joke to the man who told it to the man who told it to Mr. King? And who told it to that man? Wanted: information leading to the discovery of that man or his heirs. In the mean time we are holding $1.98 in trust. A jolly old steamboat captain with more girth than height was asked if he had ever had any very narrow escapes. Yes.” he replied, his eyes twinkling; "once I fell off my boat at the mouth of Bear Creek, and, although I'm an expert swimmer, I guess I'd be there now if it hadn't been for my crew. You see the water was just deep enough so's to be over my head when I tried to wade out, and just shallow enough”—he gave his body an explana- tory pat—"so that whenever I tried to swim out I dragged bottom." A prominent railroad man hurried down the lobby of a Binghamton hotel and up to the desk. He had just ten minutes in which to pay his bill, and reach the station. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had forgotten something. “Here, boy," he called to a negro bellboy, “run up to 48 and see if I left a box on the bureau. And be quick about it, will you?" The boy rushed up the stairs. The ten min- utes dwindled to seven and the railroad man paced the office. At length the boy appeared. “Yas, suh,” he panted breathlessly. “Yas. suh, yo' left it, suh.” “My boy,” admonished the minister, “don't you know that it is wicked to fish on Sunday?”. “Fish on Sunday?” repeated the boy in in- jured tones. “Why, mister, I'm only teachin' this 'ere poor little worm how to swim.” “My rubber," said Nat Goodwin, describing a Turkish bath that he once had in Mexico, “was a very strong man. He laid me on a slab and kneaded me and punched me and banged me in a most emphatic way. When it was over and I had gotten up, he came up behind me before my sheet was adjusted, and gave me three resounding slaps on the bare back with the palm of his enormous hand. “What in blazes are you doing?' I gasped, staggering. “No offense, sir,' said the man. 'It was only to let the office know that I was ready for the next bather. You see, sir, the bell's out of order in this room."" Dorothy was visiting her grandparents in the country for the first time. Seeing a quantity of feathers scattered about the henyard she shook her head in disapproval. “Grandpa," she told him gravely, "you really ought to do something to keep your chickens from wearing out so.” “Tommy,” said his mother reprovingly, “what did I say I'd do to you if I ever caught you steal- ing jam again?" Tommy thoughtfully scratched his head with his sticky fingers. “Why, that's funny, ma, that you should for- get it, too. Hanged if I can remember.” Speaking of the policy of the Government of the United States with respect to its troublesome neighbors in Central and South America, “Uncle Joe” Cannon recently told of a Missouri congress- man who is decidedly opposed to any interference in this regard by our country. It seems that this spring the Missourian met at Washington an Englishman with whom he conversed touching affairs in the localities mentioned. The West - erner asserted his usual views with considerable forcefulness, winding up with this observation: “The whole trouble is that we Americans need a -- good licking!” Two country women, mother and daughter, were at the circus for the first time. They were greatly taken with the menagerie. At last they came to the hippopotamus, and stood for several minutes transfixed in silent wonder. Then the mother turned to her daughter and said slowly and solemnly, “My! Ain't-he-plain?” EmtyhodiTagazine PUBLISHED BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY ERMAN J. RIDGWAY, President John O'Hara Cosgrave WM. L. JENNINGS, Sec'y and Treas. RAY BROWN, Art Director Editor Robert FROTHINGHAM, Ado. Mgr. 31 EAST 17TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY With “Everybody's" Publishers ARE you at all interested in the subject man. Do you think he would go on spend- A of advertising? Interested to know ing his good money if he didn't know it paid? how some firms make barrels of money every Of course not. There, now; that's a better year by spending a barrel of it in advertising? tone. Now, if you'll ask the question real We are often asked—“What do you get for polite-like, we'll turn you over to Robert your advertising?” The answer is—"$500 Frothingham, our advertising manager, who a page.” Almost invariably the questioner thinks he knows the answer. He ought to. says—“That's a lot of money for one page for If Frothingham, with his staff, can argue a year.” “Yes, but it isn't for a year. It's $90,000 into EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE in one $500 for one page one month.” The ques- month, he ought to be able to give you a line tioner is either so flabbergasted that he can't on how he does it, and not charge you for it say anything, or he asks more questions. either; although it's proper to warn you that “How many pages do you run?” “Oh, some he'll have you all advertising, if he gets his months we get as many as 180 pages!" Then finger in your buttonhole. his mental arithmetic gets to work. “That's Let's hear what he has to say. $9,000 a month!” “No, that's $90,000.” “What, you mean that you are carrying The other day a plot of ground on Fifth $90,000 in one number of your magazine?” Avenue, New York, changed hands at a We blush. His tone indicates doubt of our record price. The record price was $277 per word and of the advertisers' sanity. When he square foot. Now you undoubtedly know of finally decides that we are not playing “cross- places where you can buy for $277 a lot large questions and silly answers,” but answering enough to build a house upon. Therefore, it his questions truthfully, his thought naturally may seem to you an enormous price to pay for turns to the poor, deluded advertisers who a plot of ground so small that you could cover pay us all that money, and the inevitable it with your pocket handkerchief. The reason question follows—the question that is prob- that this particular piece of ground is worth ably on your mind this minute: How, in so much is not its intrinsic value as earth, Heaven's name, or the other place (according but the fact that it happens to be on Fifth to the creed of the church to which you be- Avenue—the most distinguished street of long, or don't)-how can the advertisers afford the greatest metropolis in the world. The to pay such prices? We object to having the man who bought this lot at such a high price question poked at us in that tone of voice, intends to erect a building upon it that will and we ought not to have to answer it, any- be occupied by the stores and offices of people how. The big advertiser is a clever business who wish to do business with the throng that The names at the head of this page are placed there not solely to gratify vanity, but to comply with the new law of the New York Legislature, that requires publication, on the editorial page of every newspaper and periodical, of the names of the chief officers of the publishing corporation. We have gone farther here than the letter of the law prescribes, and have set forth the names of the men who are the actual publishers of "Everybody's Magazine." 287 288 Everybody's Magazine passes up and down Fifth Avenue. These of the day, by our obvious fairness and earnest- tenants will know that they can get more ness and high standards. Indeed, is it not customers and get a higher price for their reasonable that our interest in the great, goods on Fifth Avenue than anywhere else vital, timely subjects that the world is talking in the world, because the people who go to about should attract a class of readers that are Fifth Avenue to buy are discriminating in alert, progressive, and keen, and consequently taste and supplied with money. winners at what they are doing? However Now the variation in the price of building- obtained—and I know of no publication that lots is paralleled by the variation in prices of is more carefully "made" from the editor's advertising. If you inquire into the price of point of view than EVERYBODY's—that is the advertising space you will find that values type of people who read the magazine. This are determined on about the same principle. the advertiser has discovered for himself. A page of advertising space is worth more Furthermore, the successful advertiser is in one publication than in another only in mighty particular about the company he keeps. proportion to the number of people who are He appreciates our policy of excluding from bound to see that page, in proportion to the the advertising pages patent medicines, character of those people, and in proportion whisky, cigarettes, and catchpenny invest- to their attitude toward the magazine of ments. We really go farther than this. We which that page is a part. Let us see how do not permit any advertiser who is willing to this applies to EVERYBODY'S $500 rate. pay $500 to use our pages unless his goods are The successful advertiser does not buy the right kind and his promises are reasonable. space at random. He knows what he wants, When an advertiser gets permission to use and before he puts out a large sum for a page one of our pages at $500, it means that we in a periodical, he has calculated just what think that his goods are right, his prices hon- return he should have for his investment. est, and that his promises will be redeemed. Nowadays all the great advertisers in the A pretty large order, you will say. Well, we magazine field have some fixed method of realize our responsibility to our odd three tracing results, both direct and indirect. To millions of readers, and as best we may, we meet their expectations, a large circulation is live up to it. That is so far as it is in our not enough; it must be a large circulation power, we exclude the trickster and the false among people who can afford to spend money pretender. on things that they see advertised. The successful advertiser knows this—the EVERYBODY's circulation averages about appearance of his advertisement in one of our 550,000 a month, and that means about five pages is practically a guarantee to the readers readers for every copy. Its price of fifteen of the magazine that we have reason to be- cents per copy and $1.50 per year, which has lieve that the statements he sets forth are true. been maintained for two years, indicates that Here you have the relationship in a nut- it is purchased by a class of people who don't shell, a relationship that we have been at mind an extra five cents for their magazine, great pains and cost to bring about: Our and who may therefore be supposed to have readers are "selected"; our advertisers are sufficient money to spend on the comfortable "selected"; and the result is that whatever of equipment of their homes. Here then is speculation there is in an advertising cam- Quantity combined with Quality to a degree paign is reduced to a minimum in our pages. unequaled by any of the contemporaries of It has therefore come about that the adver- EVERYBODY's. And the advertiser has tiser in EVERYBODY's is enabled to purchase learned by actual experience that in the his space with something of a certainty that majority of instances he secures a greater vol- he will get back his costs, together with a ume of patronage from EVERYBODY's read- large profit of publicity on the investment. ers at a lower proportionate expense than from And finally, when you realize that $500 the readers of any other monthly magazine per page means only eighty-four cents for in the field. every thousand pages circulated, and com- But why should EVERYBODY's readers pare this with the cost of printing and mail- prove more responsive than those of other ing 550,000 leaflets to a selected list—if the magazines ? advertiser knew where to find such a list- They are selected readers—selected by the you'll appreciate that in proportion to the kind of matter we put into the magazine. vast publicity gained, the cost is almost a neg- Selected by our treatment of the big questions ligible quantity. OVE racy LASEPTEMBER SEPTEMBER “YOU'LL HAVE TO EXCUSE ME NOW, MISS BARNARD, I ALWAYS HOLD THIS THING FOR MISS EMMY WHEN SHE CUTS FLOWERS." _" The Saving Sense," page 333. EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE Vol. XVII. SEPTEMBER, 1907. No. 3. The Crusade Against War Second Conference of the Peace at The Hague By VANCE THOMPSON N the corner of the railway carriage a tall empire, to be sure; but only a few govern- mulatto, with a diamond in his necktie, ments took part. The pacification of hu- slumbered peacefully. Next to him sat a manity!” he said, lighting a fresh cigarette. little Japanese in a frock coat; gradually he, “I am proud that this noble idea is Russian. too, began to nod; then his head fell over on We owe it to the celebrated Prince Gor- the mulatto's shoulder, and together they tschakoff. He was the first statesman who slept. brought about a peace conference. It was at The other passengers smiled, but not un Brussels in 1874. Ah, in that day they did kindly; for even so the delegates of peace not dare to ask for very much! Disarma- should journey to The Hague. ment was undreamed of. They aimed at "It is in the tone of the time," an English- little more than stripping war of its worst man said. savagery-explosive bullets and the poison- The train ran on through the flat meadows ing of wells. But that day began the move- of Holland and we talked of the congress of ment for peace--and the growth of the idea peace. There was a pale young Russian who has gone on and on smoked cigarettes and spoke with authority, The extremely young diplomat waved his for he was the third or perhaps the fourth cigarette and showed us how three mighty secretary of some embassy. He said: “The forces were making for universal peace. He meeting of forty-five sovereign states—it called them science, democracy, and the new would be hard to find in history a diplomatic spirit of international brotherhood, and he assembly of such importance. There was the said: “The universal conscience of mankind congress of Vienna, which remade the map of has risen against the barbarism of war.” Europe after the downfall of the Napoleonic No one said him nay; it seemed very true Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. 292 Everybody's Magazine Ecuador-or Bolivia—who had been his pillow; and the train stopped at The Hague. and very beautiful. In one corner of the carriage sat an old German, smoking a bad cigar in a long amber holder decorated with garnets. He told us, in bad French, a legend of Walhalla. It was something like this: The gods sat in council and the debate was grave and long, for on earth men were slaughtering one another and would not keep the peace. At last one of the wise old gods cried out: "Eisen, throw your sword into the P erhaps you know the little royal city of Holland. Its boulevards, its avenues of ancient trees, its venerable lawns lend it a far-off likeness to Versailles — but a very Dutch Versailles, with angular roofs and shining house fronts. A city of flowers and of lazy canals. Small yellow trams wind Photograph by Underwood & Underwood, New York. THE PEACE CONFERENCE IN SESSION. world that men may learn where peace is to be found!” And old Eisen hurled earth- ward his mighty sword. The old man had put in a nutshell the German theory of peace; and no one answered him. We looked out into the quiet fields and thought of the last time we had journeyed to The Hague for the sake of peace—with hopes as high. That was in 1899. A few weeks after the peace- makers had separated-October of the same year—the Anglo-Boer war began; a few years later came the signal for the battles in the Far East. After all, the cynics and the ironists have much on their side. Then the little Japanese woke up in con- fusion and apologized to the man from through the shady streets and out through the forest and on to Scheveningen with its wooden pavilions and the sea. A quiet little city. Kindly faces look from the windows. Under the trees swarms of children play at some queer game of tag-sturdy youngsters with fat legs and butter-colored hair. Now and then a gentleman of the court passes; he has a blue coat and a sword with a mother- of-pearl handle. Or the blonde queen rides about in a landau drawn by black horses, and her subjects take off their hats and smile in a friendly way. For life at The Hague is like a page from a story-book. Then that morning in June the quiet of the little city was shattered by the coming of the peacemakers. They filled the serene hotels HAARLEM GATE, THE HAGUE, and the pavilions by the sea. Their motor- cars and victorias wheeled through the shady streets. Delegates, secretaries, attachés, up- per and under servants, journalists, dark- going members of the secret police of all nations—it was the cosmopolis. And the afternoon of June 15th this alien throng went toward the Hall of the Knights, which stands in the Binnenhof. Do you know this old court of somber brick and gray stone? For six centuries the history of Holland has been written there. This day-dull and cold under MAJOR YOSHIFURU AKUJAMA. The Japanese Military Delegate. HON. JOIN W. FOSTER. One of China's delegates at the Conference. 293 THE HAGUE “A CITY OF FLOWERS AND OF LAZY CANALS." a northern sky—it had a little air of gala. sat on their great horses. There were not Dutch flags floated in the wind and a great many spectators—a few citizens smoking their red banner swayed to and fro. Without, the pipes, and women, and groups of barelegged cavalrymen-little and blond and gentle— children. (Perhaps after all it was not for you and me, but for these barelegged youngsters that the nations of the world gathered in the Second Conference of the Peace- for them, or, it may be, for their far-off children.) A dozen police sergeants held the gates of the Binnenhof. They scanned your card of admission and let you pass; and you came to the Rid- derzaal, tall and red and grim, an ancient castle with pointed towers. On the broad stone steps stood the ushers in dress coats and gilt chains, and the attend- ants in brass-buttoned liv- eries. They stood to right and left as the delegates- old men in frock coats and silk hats—went slowly up the steps into the hall. It was not impressive. The ARRIVAL OF JOSEPH H. CHOATE AND SOME OF HIS COLLEAGUES. low old palaces had looked 294 The Crusade Against War 295 out upon more splendid scenes — when the golden coaches of the Stadthouder and the Duke of Alba rolled under the archway with a cortège of princes and knights, in the old days of banners and halberds. These great ambassadors of peace had discarded their uniforms braided with gold, their crosses and ribbons and orders; they were hum- ble and democratic in their black coats. They might have been so many old in- surance agents—so many old commercial travelers- going up to an annual meet- ing. No, this was not im- pressive. And within the Hall of the Knights—you entered to the left of the tower and found yourself in a space ARRIVAL OF COUNT NELIDOFF, PRESIDENT OF THE CONFERENCE. railed off from the con- ference hall—there was the same impression Only a little light came through the ten of cold simplicity. For the Ridderzaal with windows, for the panes were darkened with its naked walls and lofty roof, crossed with the escutcheons of the cities of Holland. At rafters of massive wood, was dim and cold. the far end rose an enormous chimney of BARON MARCHELL VON BIEBERSTEIN AND OTHER GERMAN DELEGATES. WHERE THE PEACE CONFERENCE CONVENED. white and green, its hood projecting far into covered desks and green chairs at which the the hall. And this was all that broke the delegates took their places. austere monotony of oak and plaster. To I leaned on the railing and watched them the left of the chimney was a little door, so enter, by one and two. There came the little inconspicuous that you could hardly make it Japanese, absurd and melancholy in his out. It was closed but not lccked; the only European clothes, and his friend from Ec- fastening was a band of tape drawn across it uador-or Bolivia-wearing a white waist- and sealed at either end with red wax-so coat and many diamonds. This old, old that it would open to man, white - bearded, the touch of a hand. - wearing a red fez, is Behind that door wait- Turkhan Pasha; and ed the men of the secret with him is a little smil- police-French and ing Turk whom I do Spanish, Russian and not know, but in that German — for fear of dark face is infinite pos- the anarchist was upon sibility of warfare and all those old, wise men trouble—perhaps it is who had gathered to Mohammed Said Bey, give peace to humanity. whose reputation is And that was curious. made. Mandarins in A tall chair with armor- blue silk, in amaran- ial bearings stood in thine silk, a half dozen front of the old chim- of them, lend the only ney; from it radiated note of color to the the long lines of baize- THE JAPANESE AND THE CHINESE DELEGATES. gloomy assembly. 296 The Crusade Against War 297 Their seats are far to the rear, next to the railing. And always the old men file in -Austrians with drooping white whiskers, Germans with full-blooded faces and up- twisted mustaches, timid, down-looking Si- amese in ill-fitting frock coats; they go softly to their seats. Here pass the slim, dark- hued men from South America; that Span- ish-looking man of forty is Drago, who has a doctrine of his own. He is one of the celebrities of the moment. Then the Ameri- can delegation goes down to its seats near the dais-Mr. Choate has many friends in the conference and he smiles to right and left What is curious is the way that his good Ar- yan head-the face made fine by the habit of thought-stands out in this assembly of all the races, white and yellow and brown. The delegates are seated in alphabetical order, and this brings “America” well down to the front, second only to Germany (“Allemagne”). There are 250 accredited delegates, but secre- taries and technical delegates bring the num- ber up to 500. The United States, for example, has sent ten; for with Mr. Choate are General Horace Porter, General George B. Davis, Admiral Sperry, Mr. Uriah Rose, Mr. David Jayne Hill, Mr. Buchanan, and the secretaries and attachés. It is not yet three o'clock and the som ber hall is filled from end to end; what you see are the gray heads, or bald, and row after row of black-coated shoulders; here and there the red of a fez or the coiled cue of a mandarin; only one military uniform-it is worn by a Dutch officer, Lieutenant Surie. It is a dim and agitated world, humming with hopes and intentions. Suddenly there is a silence. The Dutch Secretary of Foreign Affairs takes his place in front of the monu- mental chimney. His Excellency the Jonk- heer van Tets van Goudriaan is a robust old man, buttoned up in a frock coat, white- bearded, imposing. He waves a quadrangular sheet of paper and reads aloud Holland's welcome. It is in French, the language of the conference. The phrases ring out clear and metallic: First it is Queen Wilhelmina’s welcome and then a reference to the work accomplished by the first conference and the progress that the cause of peace has made since then; and—“At this hour I cannot omit to offer the tribute of our gratitude to the eminent statesman who presides over the destinies of the United States of America, the President Roosevelt.” Whereupon an odd thing happened in this decorous assembly. A ripple of applause started in the French seats; it spread to the English section and the Russian; in a moment the whole hall was humming with well-bred acclamation. A compliment to the Czar of all the Russias, a reference to the historical Hall of the Knights, and the Jonkheer was done. In his place rose the president of the conference, Monsieur Nelidoff, the Russian ambassador. He, too, was old and white, with flowing whiskers and drooping mustache. Rapidly he read a long, long address. Sometimes he faced his audience; then he turned sidewise to get the light from the dim windows; but always he read on-and it was like the drone of an old moujik sitting under the shade of a tree, telling his village of far-off unhappy things. A severe old man, with his shining scalp and the tufts of gray hair above his ears and the long beard; a tone of ironic pessimism ran through his speech. It is the habit to praise America. Monsieur Nelidoff praised Mr. Carnegie for his “gift of fortune to erect at The Hague a sumptuous palace” for peace. But this dream of universal peace? The lean and haughty old diplomat shook his head. It is a pretty ideal. “Excelsior" is the motto of progress. And so we may as well pursue the dream of world-wide peace and fraternity- “the luminous star of universal peace and justice which we shall never attain — but which will always guide us for the good of humanity.” That was all. It was the last word. And it was perhaps the ironic summing up of all this mighty conference of sage and aged men. Peace? It is luminous as a star-luminous as red Antares yonder, clinging to the neck of the Scorpion-but quite as far away; beautiful and unattainable. And we went out into the Binnenhof, the melancholy words ringing in our ears-nous n'arriverons jamais! In front of the steps two lines of Dutch policemen in black coats and silvered helmets were drawn up. They looked like mutes, ready to follow the coffin wherein old Nelidoff had laid away the dead Ideal of Universal Peace. Then the carriages rolled up for the diplomats; and the lackeys shouted; and a few troopers rode wildly round the edges of the disorder. On the steps of the Ridderzaal, between the two towers, the ambassadors waited. They were many, but they did not impress them- selves. Great Britain's delegate, Sir Edward Fry, was lifted into his carriage-a very ancient man, eighty years of age, it may be ninety. Monsieur Bourgeois, obese and 298 Everybody's Magazine brilliant and French; the Italian Count it was he who prevented hostilities between Tornielli with his high-domed head; the England and Russia at the time of the Hull quaint little Japanese Baron Tsudzuki, with a incident-when Russian cruisers fired wildly mustache that seemed pasted on; and many into a fleet of fishing-smacks. The ambassa- a vague figure of diplomacy besides. Then a dors of Great Britain, Austria, and Brazil huge man bulked out among them; a giant of were chosen as honorary presidents; as vice- a man; his enormous shoulders were squared presidents the commission had representatives in an ample overcoat, which was thrown back of Germany, Italy, and Mexico. Upon this so that you could see the silk-faced frock question of the settlement of disputes by coat, swollen by the big chest. For he was arbitration all the nations were agreed. The big of chest, of shoulder, of abdomen. A low, creation of a practical and authoritative court turned-down collar left room for the massive rested with the jurists—Renault of France neck. Before he put on his hat you saw the and Zorn of Bonn-and the patient diplomats. gray hair, thick and parted in the middle and It was immediately after this commission was combed out over the temples. And you instituted that the United States first inter- studied the cold, heavy, intelligent face and the vened. General Horace Porter informed the steady, cynical eyes. So colossal and calm conference that America desired to submit the he was that he seemed to be less a man than question of the non-employment of force for an edifice; and he was the ambassador and the collection of debts. With unanimous the symbol of the German Empire. A tiny courtesy the matter was referred to the first cigarette between his lips, a silver-headed commission. It was the entering wedge of cane in his hand, he went down the steps of the Drago doctrine—the first notable satis- the Hall of Peace. He seemed to see neither faction given to the United States and South the photographers who sighted their lenses America. on him, nor the policemen in black and silver T he second commission had to do with who made a way for him- questions affecting war by land; the Belgian Way for the Baron Marchell von Bieber- delegate presided and General Horace Porter stein- was made one of the honorary presidents. A huge man; bearing about him mysteri- Of more importance was the third commission, ously the burden of peace-or war. upon which Mr. Choate found an honorary place, dealing with maritime warfare and all The result of the first peace conference was the complex problems of bombardments of rather formless and hazy. It drew up an open ports, contraband, capture of private agreement for the pacific regulation of inter- property, and the status of neutrals. As I national conflicts. Now this agreement was have said, I wish only to outline-as on a full of good intentions, but unfortunately map—the scope of the conference; but it is there was no way of enforcing it. In the significant that the proposal for the creation second place, thanks to Monsieur Léon of an international prize-court-to decide Bourgeois, it declared for the desirability of upon the fate of captured vessels—was made limiting military expenditures—a resolution by the Baron von Bieberstein, of Germany, equally platonic. and supported by Sir Edward Fry and Mr. What may be hoped for from this second Choate. conference? It was Mr. Roosevelt who took The fourth commission was occupied with the initiative of calling it together. England the changes to be made in the Geneva con- approved, and Russia drew up the program vention for the care of the wounded in war. that has been submitted to the delegates for This was, then, the groundwork of the discussion. The second plenary meeting was conference. held on the 19th of May, and upon that day It was noteworthy that the four great the diplomatic forces were divided into four powers, Germany, the United States, Great commissions. If you glance at the work al- Britain, and Japan, were given only honor- lotted to each of these divisions you have be- ary representation on the commissions. This fore you—as on a chart—the scope and pur- was not due to their imperfect command of pose of the conference. And that is worth French, as unkind critics averred. General while; indeed clarity is always worth while. Porter, who speaks the language extremely The first commission was that of arbitration well, was offered a presidency; he refused it and the presidency went to Monsieur Bour- as he wished to stand without, where he could geois. That was an honor fitly bestowed, for fight his country's fight unhampered. As The Crusade Against War 299 though there could be fighting in a conference poor Latin folk have come to the conclu- of peace, you say? Ah, this wedding-ring sion that this conference was called for the of nations has to be forged out of multiple purpose of regulating in advance the condi- antagonistic metals. And each nation has its tions of a naval war in the Pacific.” own peculiar needs, economics, or dynastics; I shall not name the delegate who said that; for instance, when General Porter urged I write it merely that you may understand the acceptance of the Drago doctrine—that the ironic attitude of many of these peace- corollary of the doctrine of Monroe-he found makers—who were without hope and without aligned against him the money-lending nations zeal. They saw in the conference only a of the Old World. And the broaching of that battle of the diplomats, each of them fight- splendid ideal of disarmament? The decla- ing subtly and patiently for his own. More ration of the Chancellor von Bülow in the than any others the technical delegates were Reichstag of Germany left no doubt as to fond of saying these things; perhaps they the intentions of Germany; and the French knew. minister of foreign affairs pronounced it Had you wished to know the full sweep and Utopia come again. With cautious curiosity, trend of the pacific movement, you had gone, as hares approach a trap, the old experienced as I did, among the unofficial delegates. diplomats went round that question. No one, They were many. Mr. W. T. Stead presided I think, expressed this universal state of mind over a club in the Princessengracht. The better than Monsieur Bourgeois. It was Baroness von Suttner, who wrote that epoch- when he came back from that first inter making book, "Lay Down Your Arms!” had national Diet of a score of nations. her pacific circle. The peace associations “I have no illusions," he said; “you see I were represented by men and women from belong to a generation which accepted Dar- every land. Among them you met neither win and sees in the struggle of nations, as of irony nor disillusion. As you listened to men, the fatalism of a law of equilibrium.” them you realized that the Great Ideal has They are still with Darwin, these delegates made its way into the remotest parts of the of peace; it seems to them a far-off ideal that earth, that it has become part of the in- nations should cease to brawl with knives—as tellectual life of mankind. The most potent civilized men have ceased—and should carry delegates were those unaccredited members their quarrels to juries and judges. And they of the Peace Leagues and Associations, who are not idealists. But everything comes to represented the hopes of far-off Java, of far- pass-even Utopia. Only, it is difficult for off Kansas, of Norway, of England. They a generation of statesmen, bred in the creed were not worrying about Darwinian laws of that the fittest survives by reason of his equilibrium. It may be that they are not prac- fighting power to plot the curves of a saner tical. But they are preaching a crusade--in and milder law. all languages-against war. They are strip- I spoke with old diplomats in the serene ping it of its glory; they are demonstrating hotels and the rococo palace by the sea. its absurdity in an age when men know one And some were friends of British preponder- another—and may freely discuss their differ- ance and some of German rule. And each ences; and they are familiarizing the peoples had a theory whereby peace might be made and above all the governments with the theory to the advantage of his own land; nor did he of peace. There was something very charm- view his neighbor without suspicion. ing about these little gatherings--with their “It is upon the rights of neutrals, on enthusiasms and lawless idealism. You see, private property in naval warfare that the they discussed only how peace might be made conference can most usefully expend its permanent and universal; not upon them was activity-and its sagacity," said the Baron laid the diplomatic duty of seeing how peace von Bieberstein. And I heard the same might be made-profitable. thing from Baron Tsudzuki, of Japan. “The inviolability of private property in Some day there will be a pathology of case of naval warfare,” said my Latin friend, nations; then we shall understand many as we came away from the hotel where the things that are now dark. Centuries ago the French and German flags were flying side by Chinese discovered the absurdity of prowess side, “ seems to be about the only question and the futility of war. They disdained to that really interests the conference-notably fight. They preferred to yield to the un- you Americans and Japanese. In fact we civilized invader, knowing that the influence 300 Everybody's Magazine of a higher race would in the end perfect him there will be no war. That is the only solu- and make him like themselves. And that is tion. War is made by the classes. Mr. understandable. But I spent a Sunday after- Carnegie has given a million in order to build noon at The Hague with two thousand pacifi- here a Palace of Peace; but if any one should cators whose logic was hard to follow. So des- offer his steel trust five millions, or a hundred, perately they loved peace that they were ready for casting cannons, do you think he would to dynamite humanity into a state of eternal refuse? No-well, that's the way the capital- tranquillity; for they were the anarchists. ists understand peace.” Again they began They met on the Vaillant-plein, a green to sing a hymn to the Deity of a new creed; meadow out beyond the southern suburb of and as they sang I talked to Domela Nieu- the town. There was a stand for the speak- wenhuis; or rather I listened: ers; high above it rose a pike with a Phrygian “The conference over yonder—'tis a huge cap-that old symbol of revolution; and a comedy," he said, “a huge hypocrisy. That score of scarlet banners flapped in the air, is why we protest. There will never be displaying inscriptions: “Militarism is a peace, until the present society is destroyed- crime,” “Geen Vaderland /” A huge cartoon utterly destroyed.” showed the sovereigns of Europe, offering He had the strange pale eyes of Upton palms to one another, while behind their backs Sinclair and when he spoke of destruction they held drawn swords; beneath it was they filmed over in a way at once unex- written: “People beware! They present the pected and menacing. A dingy, stout man palm of peace in order to hide more success- took me by the arm; there were tears on his fully the swords they hold ready.” cheeks. It is a peculiarity of the anarchists that they “We must destroy war," he said; he was a are extremely mild-mannered. This crowd captain who had had thirty years' service in was made up of young mothers with babies, of the Dutch colonies; he had killed a great many clean working men, of gentle old men. While negroes and he wept again as he thought of the band played the young folk danced two it; and “You are too cruel to them in the by two on the soft turf. The children romped. United States—you burn them at the stake," The gentle old men drank lemonade. Were he said. it not for the scarlet banners and the hawkers A little blonde girl came up to him and selling pamphlets advising “Direct Action” plucked his sleeve. He wiped the tears out of and “the sowing of picric-acid seeds” it his eyes, and smiled at her. might have been a picnic of bourgeois citizens. “I want some milk,” she said. Or a camp-meeting of the old sort. Twenty We went over to a long wooden bar, where, voices took up a hymn-a grave liturgic song under an awning, the milk was sold. Except to the new strange Deity of anarchy. It was the lemonade there was nothing else to be not a parody; it was intense-a passionate had, for these enemies of society are enemies, hymn as of a new religion. The women sang too, of alcohol. The milk was sold at two it; and the children lifted their shrill voices, cents a glass. I bought a handful of tickets while they paused in their games and stood and gave them to the little blonde girl. With with folded hands and serious eyes. Then great industry she collected her friends- orator succeeded orator on the speaker's forty youngsters, fifty of them. Solemnly stand-yonder where the Phrygian cap and they held up their glasses, waiting for the the pike were. One of them told us that a hun- toast. The stout captain, who had taken to dred international organizations were repre- anarchy — as heart-broken girls enter a sented there — Belgian, German, French, convent—by way of penance for his thirty Scandinavian. Another cried: “If you want years of negrophobia, proposed the toast. peace, make war on capitalism. Can you He took off his hat, he raised his glass, and imagine the Russian delegation in any con- said: “Vive le Président Roosevelt," and the vention where it would not leave traces of children piped: “ Vive le Président Roose- blood?” Then a slender old man took the velt," and drank their milk. platform. It was Domela Nieuwenhuis, who It was a charming compliment, but I do had just come from a German prison. He not pretend to understand the logic of it, had the air of an old aristocrat, of a Nelidoff, with his haughty face and white and silky So then there were three ideals of peace beard. He said: “If the working men go on at The Hague. The gentle-mannered “inter- strike one and all when war is threatened, why, nationalists” saw it rising, white-winged and Hearts' Seasons 301 beneficent, out of a chaos of picric-acid, of the Knights (whence a crusade set out to wherein thrones and governments and capital conquer the Holy Land) the sage old states- should have been dissolved, and only the men sat in a peace conference where was natural man be left. debated the subject: Another ideal was that of the unaccredited “How may war be made less unpleasant delegates, for whom peace-a thing beautiful for every one concerned?” and splendid as a flag—was to be won by a Three ideals. kindly crusade of spoken and printed words; Down which path, think you, will peace and they foresaw, after the reign of force, the come? After all, that is not of supreme reign of feudality, the reign of commerce, the importance. What is evident is that the new reign of intellectuality, which will be nations are thinking peace—that it has be- also that of peace. And yonder in the Hall come a part of the world's thought. > Hearts' Seasons By CHARLES BUXTON GOING IHEN the Earth was flushed and the trees were young V And the bluebirds called from an April sky, Beyond where the moon's slim cradle swung Life's long, long vistas before us hung Half-veiled in tears, though we knew not why; For hearts were yearning—but on the tongue The slow words faltered, and lips were shy. When the Earth was green and the trees were strong And the river sang to the warm, white sun, The hours were blithe and the days were long, For life was working, and work was song- No wailing minor of things undone And no black discord of hopes gone wrong; Life's sands were many, and slow to run. When the Earth is bleak and the trees are pale And the east wind cries through the falling rain, Draw close, dear heart, from the rising gale; We'll measure bravely our meager tale Of wide, poor stubble and scanty grain. But, dear, we have tried; if the harvest fail The Lord of the Harvest will count our pain. When the trees are gray and the Earth is white And the north wind sings in the chimney stone, Then, hand in hand, we will wait the night; With quiet hearts, we will say good night. Dear heart, was not all the year our own? There is no darkness Love cannot light- We'll face, together, the great Unknown! Dearmuliet hearts, d. we will "wathe chim Sangre de Cristo By EDFRID BINGHAM Illustrations by Dan Smith THEN your luck drops you down in outlay. I rose and leaned against the bar to Salt Lick overnight, and there's no watch my cowboy in his astonishing company. stage till morning, you have just three ways The last time I'd seen Thad Brinker he to pass the time until you're sleepy: you can was breaking a red-eyed bronco in front of watch old Hegenbeck and “Doc” Breen play ten thousand gaping people at the Denver cribbage in the hot and stuffy office of the Carnival. About two-thirds of the crowd “hotel,” or listen to cattle-talk at Snyder's thought he should have had the belt, and saloon, or buy chips at Greaser Joe's. There's said so at the top of their voices, but the music at Joe's, too, and that takes some of the judges declared that Brinker was too rough, wail out of the wind, which is insolent and and gave the championship to a quiet, slip- mad across Lost Wagon Flats. pery fellow from Wyoming. So I wandered into Joe's, and was idly “Come and take a drink, Brinker," said I, placing two whites on the Double 0 (that's when they'd finished some fandango thing. a folly of mine) when my eyes fell on the He untwisted himself slowly, and rose like musicians against the wall on the other side a man caught in a petty crime. There was a of the room. Two were the regulation snaky, sheepish grin on his handsome, if now un- black-haired Mexicans in their tawdry plu- kempt, face as he walked over to the bar and mage of black velvet and spangled brass. reached out a hand to me. The third was a straw-colored fellow in the “What's this monkey business, Brinker?” garb of a cowboy. A guitar was supported asked I reproachfully. on one of his legs, crossed over the other; he “Doin' time!” he answered, with frank, was crouched low in his chair; and his faded almost defiant disgust. sombrero was so far down over his forehead "Pretty bad time, too, what I heard of that only the lower part of his blond stubble- it," was my flippant rejoinder. He merely bearded face was visible. But I knew him. grinned again. “What does it mean?” "Playin' fur fun, I surmise!” I heard the “Same as if I'd hired a greaser to lay about roulette man say, with rough sarcasm. two hundred strokes of a quirt on my bare “Let them stay where they are," I replied, back," he replied, as he tossed into his mouth quite uninterested in the stack of whites on a slug of Joe's awful whisky. “I'd 'a' done top of my two. The next whirl very properly that, only this is worse." took them, and two more plays finished my He turned and looked with a shudder at his 302 Sangre de Cristo 303 companions, who were eying us with that most pain, that look of tense incomprehen- curious Mexican stare that is half malev- sion breaking now and then into a short, olence and half something indeterminate. nervous laugh of acute chagrin. “I don't “What was it, Brinker? A woman?” I know how, nor why, but it's made a good questioned strategically, knowing it wasn't. cowpuncher into a two-bit guitar picker, “No. A sunset.” an'- Well, listen!” “What!” • He got into that crouching position again “A red sunset.” as if he wanted to make himself very small I stared at him in rude unbelief, and to my in accordance with his own recently formed complete befuddlement his face was swept by and abiding opinion of himself. a flush that was nothing else but shame. And “I'm comin' up from Chama, after the I stood there feeling the most astounding pity round-up on the K.S.T., headin' for Alamosa, for the man. where I'm goin' to sell Bony Part an' take a One of the velvet fellows twanged his train for Denver to spend my summer wages mandolin viciously, and Brinker started. findin' out new things 'bout faro. I've been “After the music?” I said, with assurance. ridin'in a deep arroyo, not payin' attention to Brinker nodded, and returned to his much of anything, an’I come out sudden into penance. Not to embarrass him needlessly, the heart of one of them sunsets. There's a I went back to the "hotel" and had an hour's cold gush of air down the valley, an' it's red. enlightenment on the belligerencies of crib- In the south is purple patches, but the dunes bage. Two hours later Brinker and I found is red, an' the peaks—there's no tellin' you a table in a corner at Snyder's. the color of them peaks. The air's shiverin' “Ever been in the San Luis?” he began. cold an' it's blood warm, too. There's a kind “Ever seen one of them red sunsets that's of sweat on my forehead, an' I take my hat off, called “Blood of Christ'? Then you ain't an’ it seems proper to pull up Bony Part, an' never seen anything red. Them pious old sit very still, murmurin', like them Spaniards, Spaniards, ridin' up from Mexico huntin' 'Sangre de Cristo! Sangre de Cristo!' more lands for the King of Spain-can't you “But I'm wantin' to make the Bar Two see 'em, that evenin' in September, at sun- Spot for eatin' an' sleepin' that night, so I down, crossin' their hands on their breasts, throw off that unnecessary feelin' and put an’ cryin' out, 'Sangre de Cristo! Sangre de Bony Part to the lope again. You've never Cristo!' I'm much bedoubt if any cow- been in the San Luis, so you don't know boy'd 'a' thought of that if he'd seen the big there's a green strip along the river, an' then mountains first. on both sides sage-brush flats, an' then, as “There's days an' days when the Sangre far as the mountains, the sand dunes, where de Cristo range is only white an' cold, an' nothin' grows but cactus an’ mesquite an' days when it's black with storms, an' days sage, an' maybe some thin, tough grass after when it's dismal gray. An' then there'll the spring rains. In summer the dunes is a come an evenin' with the sun goin' down red parchin', blisterin' torment an' in October behind old San Juan an' makin' the snows on they're raw, gray desolation; I ain't never had Sangre de Cristo run like blood. You're all any business there in winter, an’ want none. alone, maybe, in the chaparral, but you know The wind never stops blowin' there, an' it there's brakemen settin' the brakes on builds the dunes into new hills every day, an' squealin' ore-trains on Marshall Pass who're the sage-brush is always bent an’ lopsided an' lookin', too, and miners comin' out of the tun- torn. But when the sunset's on the dunes nels above Creede who stop to look, an' the’ ain't anything so wild an' passionate nor Mexican sheep-herders in Conejos crossin' so beautiful—that is, if you ain't been brought themselves, an' ranchmen by their lonesome up among lily ponds an' rose gardens in the corrals up an' down the San Luis, an' cow- ee-fete East. punchers in the saddle on the open range, all “You mustn't mind my goin' on like this, got it as bad as you, an' havin' queer feelings you wouldn't understand if I didn't. You while they see the blood run an' flow till won't anyhow, but then-well, I'm gazin' night comes an’ puts soft wrappin's over it, across them dunes as dopy as any Spaniard, like a wound. an’ sudden something hits me in the eye. “That's what done me," he went on It's a flash, an' gone. You've had the sun in slowly, after a pause, wrinkling his forehead a window miles away flashed into your eyes? and biting his lips impatiently. It was al Like that, only unnatural an’ odd. I jerk 304 Everybody's Magazine up Bony Part, an' shade my eyes against the “D' I ever tell you about Marvin, Jake red, an' there's nothin' but the dull red dunes Marvin? No? Well, we had a triflin' dif- reachin' north an' south, an' the wind kickin' ference of opinion in a poker game at Lara- up long curlicues of sand. mie onct, an' while they was holdin' us “That's funny!' says I, ridin' on. My we crossed our hearts an' promised each eyes 's pasted to that spot, an' purty soon I other some nice target practise next time we get it again, like before, very sharp, an' gone. meet. That's two years ago, an' I'm not I give Bony Part the steel, an' it must 'a' been thinkin' of Marvin, an' he comes out of a mile before I see it again. You've seen an Baxter's saloon an’ wings me. What d'you antelope shiny in the sun? Well, it's yel- think of that now? Marvin wings me! lower than an antelope, not red-yellow like fire, You'd think I'm pullin' a tooth 'stead of a but like gold, or maybe the bottom of a brass gun. He puts my right arm out of business, kettle when the cook's been busy on the job. an’ while I'm swingin' the gun to the other It comes an' goes, so I make up my mind it's hand he's pumpin' lead at me, an' keepin' an animal, an' I'm diggin' Bony Part in the his promise the best he can. It's a good flanks till he wonders what in the dickens's up. thing for me 't Marvin shoots like old Mis' “Well, I lope up to the top of a sand dune, Jermin throwin' rocks at her hens. He drops an' there, not more'n half a mile away, on me, an' don't take time to see what kind of a another little hill, stands a horse. C’n you job he's done, but hits the trail. imagine a horse with a hide made of ham- “I'm on somebody's blankets in the back mered gold? It ain't the kind of gold you see room at Baxter's when I come to, an' I've mostly in jewelry, but pale gold, California got a promisin' lead mine in my shoulder, gold. There's plenty of buckskins an' plenty an' the's a beautiful irrigatin' ditch along the horses of a dirty yellow, with the color streak- side of my head—there. Looks highly orny- in' through into their measly souls. But this'n mental, don't it? But that's nothin' to the is clean an' bright an' yellow; the yellowest hurt inside. I'm sick an' morterfied. I thing 't ever made a man's heart ache. He's turn my face to Baxter's dirty plank wall, an' standin' on the dune, like a golden statue of don't say a word, hopin' they'll go away an' a horse, an' me there gapin' and quiverin'. let me die. Me! Marvin!” There's horses all around him, all colors an B rinker's face was crimson again, so I sizes, nibblin' at whatever there is to nib- ministered to him as best I could with ble in that God-forsaken place, an' feelin' Snyder's unsympathetic whisky, and waited proper safe with him up there on guard with averted face for his resuscitation. An' right, too. For I ain't no more'n clapped “Next I'm lettin' two Christian sheep- eyes on him before there's a flash an' some herders dig me out of a snow-drift on the dust, an' he's gone with the rest of 'em after Red Desert. That's what I get for foolin' him, out of sight among the dunes. round in a sheep country, anyhow. Ever “I stand starin' after 'em, an' just then the been snow-blind? It's blackness with fire in red fades from the dunes, an' when I turn to it, an' you get crazy an' ride around in a circle look at 'Blood of Christ' there's only a pink an' die unless somebody finds you. I'm near tinge on the snow, an' that turns white, an' frozen stiff when they get me an' carry me to the wind down the valley's bitter cold. So their wagon, an' I lay there till a storm takes Bony Part an’I make for the Bar Two Spot, the shine out of the snow an' I c'n look at it thinkin' our own thoughts. again. Then I finish my job, which is takin' “Well, I sell Bony Part at Alamosa for word to a fellow at the Sunset Mine that his thirty plunks, which is givin' him away, but wife's sick in Lander, an' I don't go back to I'm loco on learnin' new things about faro. Lander but make for Casper an' the railroad, So I'm in Denver a week—just eight days, if an' it's me for the Black Hills, which I've you want to know. Then I hain't nothin' been aimin' for more or less all the time. left but gun an' blankets an’ a lot of new “It's easy ropin' a job with the big Star K ideas about faro, so I go out to the stock- outfit, an' the's a bunch of sassy debytanties yards, an' get a job up in Middle Park. But to be broke that spring. I'm showin' off to that's a baled-hay country, an’ I'm no farmer, beat time before a fash'nable aujence of the so, soon's I get a horse, I jump the barb-wire smartest bronco-busters there is between the an' hike north where there's cattle. I'm at Red River an' the Rio Grande. An' I let Sheridan, Wyoming, when things begin to a nice little mouse of a cayuse 't looks as if happen. it'd been born in a stable dump me like an Sangre de Cristo 305 amachoor. My left elbow hits a stone, an' the “It's all plain now as I lay there thinkin', bone's split into about forty joyous, singin' an' after a spell of dull wonder at bein' so slivers. Bud Sparks, my old partner, leans took with a horse I just give up to him an' he over me an' says, more in sorrow'n anger, fills the room with his golden shine till my "What in hell's the matter'th you!' eyes hurt an' the back of my head aches as if “That's what I'm askin', layin' on my he'd torn a big hole there gettin' out. An' bunk an' reflectin' on my busted reputation. the grand circus performance he gives to Me, Thad Brinker, 't ought t' had that belt at keep me entertained while I'm done up like Denver, an 't had busted broncos from the that! Leapin' through hoops as silver as the eyes 10 A STRAW.COLORED FELLOW IN THE GARB OF A COWBOY. Brazos to Bear Paw Mountains an' back again, an' let a snide yearlin' do this to me! An' then sudden it comes to me what ails me. It's that horse! It's that yellow devil in the San Luis. I ain't never forgot him, an’ when I ain't thinkin' of him he's dancin' around somewhere in the back part of my head, like a fire. If it hadn't been for him d’you sup- pose I'd 'a' let Marvin plug me in Sheridan? An' 'twasn't the snow 't blinded me in the Red Desert, though that helped. It was him. An' 'twas him I was tryin' to ride when that little rat throwed me on the Star K ranch. moon, an' ridin' round suns that ain't as bright as him, an' rompin' through the sky tramplin' the stars, an' comin' up out of black pits like flame-pale flame that's hot an' cold together. So it goes for days an' days, an' then he goes away very swift, like a flash, an' Bud Sparks is settin' by the bunk holdin' my hand, an' sayin'" you're all right, old man.” Everything seems queer an' light an' trembly, an' I find out I've been sick with fever, an' near done for. “Have I been talkin'?' I ask Bud. “Some,' says Bud with a grin. “About a horse?' 306 Everybody's Magazine “If you'd ever seen such a horse,' says Bud, 'I reckon you wouldn't been foolin' round with these ornery broncos.' “But I have seen him,' says I, gettin' excited, an' raisin' up on my well elbow. 'An' I'm goin' to- “Bud grabs me, an' lays me back, an' says with a scart look, 'No, you don't! You're goin' to lay still an' not talk, or I'll just about beat your fool face in.' “Then he leaves me, an' the yellow horse comes prancin' around, very dim an' pale, an' then I sleep. An' sleepin' or wakin' I can't think of anything but that horse, an’I see it ain't any use procrastinatin'. He owns me or I own him, an' the sooner it's settled the better. I'm layin' there plannin' it all out when somethin' happens that almost brings back the fever. “Mr. Larabee, owner o' the Star K, comes in, an' sets on the edge of my bunk, an' says, ‘Brinker, don't you think it's time you settled down?' “What kind of settlin' down is the' for a cowpuncher?' I ask him. “I've a mind to make you foreman of this ranch,' he says. “That makes me set up an' stare at him. 'What kind of a joke's this?' I ask, feelin' my face turn red. “I'm waitin' for an answer,' Mr. Larabee says, very quiet, an' I'm dazed. It means more money'n I ever had before, or ex- pected to have, an'a chance to get some cattle "IT SEEMS PROPER TO SIT VERY STILL, MURMURIN', 'SANGRE DE CRISTO! SANGRE DE CRISTO!'" Sangre de Cristo 307 of my own, maybe, an' lots of things 't a fellow likes. Then I laugh, disgusted. ««You didn't see me get dumped t’other heat an' the sage-brush runs under your eyes like quicksilver, an' the lizards are lyin' dead- like in the sand. "THERE'S A FLASH AN' SOME DUST, AN HE'S GONE." day by that measly yearlin'?' I ask him. 'I “It's the toughest kind of work, but I ride can't even ride! an' ride, an' don't see any wild horses. It's “Never mind that,' he says. 'I know the last of August before I catch sight of 'em, what you c'n do. I've no objection to your an' then it's only a glitter of gold against the puttin' your savin's into cows, an' gettin' a dull red of the dunes, an' gone. But that's good start for yourself right here.' enough to burn me, an' I spend a good many “Well, I'm feelin' extraordinary proud for more days, such as I may, studyin' the a minute. Then I lay too hard on my rotten country. elbow, an' a pain jerks me back like a frisky “There's a horse down there in the dunes horse on his haunches. I ask Mr. Larabee 't I reckon I need,'I announce, casual-like, to if I can think it over till to-morrow, an' he's a Carney, the foreman, one night. He looks shade huffy at that, an' goes out sayin' to take at me a minute, an' grins. all the time I want, as it's certainly more im- “So that's what you've been up to, is it?' portant to me'n 'tis to him. An' that's the he says. Then he turns to the cowpunch- truth. Mr. Larabee's a man t hitch up to if ers hangin' round the corrals, an' says, with you've got any sense, which I hain't, an' I'm a lot of unnecessary sarcasm, 'Hi, men, a coward besides. I don't want to tell him Brinker's goin' to saddle Sunny Sides!' why I'm not takin' that job, so I write a letter “The's a laugh all around, an' that learns an’ leave it on my bunk, an' that night, when me several things, one of them bein' that all's quiet, I saddle Jack Pot, an' that's an Carney's too familiar to be much of a foreman. hour's job, I'm so weak—an' ride away, “Always glad to be entertainin',' I say, hangin' on to the horn with both hands like a very soft. 'Has any of you got any money? woman. -Beggin' your pardon for askin' personal “That's in May, an' in July I'm five hun- questions on short acquaintance.' dred miles south, ridin' up to the Bar Two "The's not much doin' for a minute, but Spot an' askin' for a job. The foreman re the bunch comes sidlin' up to me an’ Carney, members me, an' I go to work, sayin' nothin' an' Carney's lookin' me over right critical, about what I'm thinkin', an' whenever I get a scentin' a game. chance I ride into the sand dunes. They're “Not havin’ been specially industrious fifty miles north an' south, an' crossways lately,' says I, “an' bein' a kind of prodigal twenty, an' all cut up by arroyos, an' in July son of a gun anyhow, I ain't got as much the scattered mesquite's curled up by the money's I ought to have to talk business to 308 Everybody's Magazine such a distinguished company of sports, but I'll mention what I've got. The's $147 in money, an'a gun, an' two horses 't you c'n put your own price on, an'a saddle, an' “An' that belt you won at Denver?' chips in Pulver, like the flea-bitten little pup he is. An' that makes another laugh. "No," I answer, slow an' quiet, though things is workin' inside. "That went to a better man, but I've got- “Then I stop, not wishin' to brag. Be- sides, the notion of chancin' them spurs ain't sweet. “You've got them gold spurs you won at Cheyenne, with di'monds in 'em,' says Weatherby. He's a new man, only been on the Bar Two Spot a few days, an' he lands a jolt all around. Carney looks queer, an' the ain't nary a laugh. . “Wasn't that black one a cyclone!' says I, forgettin' the bunch in sudden rememberin' o' that day, an' smilin' at Weatherby. “But I didn't know you was there.' "I was an' I wasn't,' says he. "I thought I was a bronco-buster, an' I turned out to be only one of the aujence. That was bronco- bustin' 't made the Denver show look like a dance at Mother Smedley's.' “I was hesitatin' about them spurs,' says I, ‘for reasons, but I reckon it'd be a gen'rous an’ Christian act t' give this bunch of sports a safe an easy chance to win a prize without bustin' anything. The spurs's in the pot. “We'll cover it,' says Carney. “I'll take all 't's left after you men have bit off yours.' "Count me out,' says Weatherby. “I'll put my horse an’ saddle anholster with Brinker's, if you don't object.' “Help yourself!' says Carney“But you ain't seen Sunny Sides.' “I've seen Brinker,' says Weatherby. “Then we begin puttin' up the cash an' the goods, an' puttin' prices on things. “Of course there ain't no man c'n rope a wild horse alone,' says I, when it's near done. Do I get the usual help here, or do I go down to the K. S. T. for some of my friends?' “Carney figures a minute, then he says: 'We'll play fair. You get this whole outfit to round 'em up an' to cut Sunny Sides out from the bunch. If you rope him you get the same help you'd get right here bustin' a bronco, no more'n no less. An' you're to saddle an' ride him. Is that square?' “Fair an' square,' says I, shovin' the gold spurs into the heap. “I don't mind tellin' you, son,' says Carney, his eyes glistenin', 'that I've hunted that Sunny Sides some myself, an' the rope ain't made yet't's long enough to catch him.' “Mine reaches from the Black Hills,' says I, an’ we all grin at one another very formal, an' go lookin' after our horses. The ain't much conversation around the Bar Two Spot for some days, an' the never was so much ice-cream politeness on a Colorado ranch since Lord What's-his-name had a bunch of knights an' squires an' younger sons for his cowpunchers on the Coronet. “It's three weeks before I get so much as a flash in my eyes again, an' I give the word to Carney immejit. Three hours before day- light we start. We're 'leven men an'a dozen extra horses, which little Pulver's to keep close up for fresh mounts. Carney an' four men ride away out to come up from the south, drivin' the herd on to us. Weatherby an' 'Slim’ Baker I send out toward the valley to come in from the west, an' the other two men's near me. So we're drawin' a net around the herd 't's somewhere down there in the dark among the dunes. “By 'n' by the's the queer little shiver in the air that comes before the dawn, an' then a big black peak of the San Juan blooms pink like a wild rose away off in the west. It's a long wait yet in the dark before the sand hills raise out of the blackness, red-gray an' cold an' still. There's dim figures right an' left where my men are waitin', and nothin' else but empty-lookin' sand heaps rollin' away into the shadows. “We move south as slow as the horses c'n walk, searchin' the dunes as the light finds 'em one after another. The sun's a long time climbin' the Sangre de Cristo range, an' the first thing he does, I reckon, is to say good mornin' to Sunny Sides. Anyhow, the's a flash out of a dull red spot maybe two miles south of us, an' I hear a yell from Caley off to my left, an' next minute the sun's in our faces. “We ride another mile very slow, an' then sudden ahead of us is a cloud of dust, an' the herd comes stormin' up out of a hollow to the top of a sand hill, an' stops at sight of us. An' the blood's tearin' through my veins again, for there's my horse, at the head of the bunch, shinin' an' bright as ever he was in my fever- dreams. It's only a minute, an' then they're chargin' away to the west, that gold thing trailin' blacks an’ browns an' bays an' grays behind him, an' the colts havin' an awful hard time keepin' up with the procession. But "TEN TOUGH COWPUNCHERS PUTTIN' THEIR MUSCLES AN' NERVES AN' BRAINS AN' MACHINERY AGAINST HIM!" Weatherby an' Baker head 'em, an' they sandy park as tight as a corral. Him an' wheel toward the mountains again. me'll fight it out right there.' “We keep closin' in very watchful, but “Carney looks most onhappy for a minute, twice they almost break through. The's only an' says, 'Goin' to give him a written invite, one thing the matter with Sunny Sides. He I s'pose!' don't know how grand he is, or he'd 'a' "If the Bar Two Spot ain't eq'al to the charged right over us, an' left us bleedin' in job, I c'n get some real busters down at the the sand. But he don't. He's got the fears K. S. T.,'I answer, an’ we grin at each other of his forefathers in his blood, an' he has to some more. be cornered before he fights. “If you're as eq'al as the Bar Two Spot, “So we're closin' in, an' he's leadin' the the'll be some sport,' says Carney, an' he scart herd in smaller'n smaller circles as rides around the line givin' orders, which he we're workin' 'em in toward the mountain. c'n do well enough when he makes up his Carney comes ridin' round an' up to me, an' contrary mind. says, 'Reckon you want us to run him till he's “Well, it's the devil's own time for five tired out, an' then you'll take him.' He was hours, an' the sand's in our eyes, an' our own tryin' to be smilin' nasty. horses's actin' loco, some of 'em, an' Baker's “D'you ever see a wild horse 't was any got a busted shoulder rollin' into an arroyo. good after you'd caught him that way?' says But the chase's got into every man's blood, I. 'It kills 'em.' an' the's no more grinnin' sarcasm an' no “You'll find enough fight left in him any thinkin' about them bets. So it's done, an' time, son,' says Carney. "What glitterin' Sunny Sides an' about half the rest of the idee've you got?' band 't we couldn't get shet of is penned up in “I'm illuminatin' you now,' says I, with the hot little park. Then we fling ourselves one eye always on Sunny Sides, as he's down in the neck of the bottle an' rest, an' whirlin' this way an' that, with the crazy Sunny Sides stands at the other end watchin' band behind him. “See that red rock yan- us, an' his head's high, an' he lifts one fore der standin' out against the granite? Well, foot an' paws the air. We stand still a long there's a little gulch there, an 't ends in a time lookin' at him. 309 "THE ROPE SETTLES AROUND HIS NECK AN' SINGS TIGHT, AN' THEN THE REAL FIGHT BEGINS." “Gee! That's a horse!' pipes little Pulver, an' the ain't nothin' more said till I get up an' begin tightenin' my saddle girths an' coilin' my rope more careful. The rest of 'em get ready, too, except Baker, who's propped against a rock swearin' outrageous. I put Weatherby an' five others to hold the openin', an' Carney an' Smith's with me after the yellow fellow. “There never was such another fight. You've seen some bustin', an' you know what a lively bronco c'n do with a bunch of cow punchers, eh? F'r instance, that job at Haley's. Don't ever tell about it again! It was a shame to treat gentle stock that way. But this devil in the San Luis—this war- whoop thing we got penned up in a nice little park, on a soft sandy floor, an' ten tough cowpunchers puttin' their muscles an' nerves an' brains an' machinery against him! . . . What's the matter 'th this whisky? It don't bite. “Well, Carney an' Smith run him around to me, an' I throw, an' miss him about fifty feet. He's chargin' the gate, an' six cow- boys wavin' their hats an' firin' their six- shooters don't no more'n stop him. Then he's drivin' at the rock sides of his pen, an' my heart flops around for a minute, thinkin', by Hannah! he's goin' to climb the mountain. 310 Sangre de Cristo 311 But he circles around an' I try the rope again. than before, 'I've got twenty dollars less'n a It's disgraceful to throw like that! I see a thousand in bank at Alamosa. Will that buy. small grin on Carney's face, an' so I click him?' An' yet I don't answer him. An’ why? my teeth together an' settle down to real work. “The's come a red-queer red color on "In about an hour my arm's achin', an' everything. I'm lookin' out through the gate the rope ain't even touched his shiny side. of our little park, an' I see a great white peak So I take a rest, an' go at it again. An' that's turnin' the color of blood. Sangre de Cristo! the way it is, hour followin' hour. He's Sangre de Cristo! It's over us an' around us chain lightnin' an' creamery butter mixed. an' under us-rocks an' sand an' sky an' air. Once he steps into my noose, an' kicks it off An' through the gap I see the big white peak his toe like a show-dancer, so dainty. Another gettin' redder 'n' redder, like a white bandage time it's over his head an' tightenin' as I stained with blood. ... I turn an' look at jerk my horse back on his haunches, but he my horse—at Sunny Sides. The's real blood does an acrobatic turn 't draws a yell of in his nostrils an' his golden coat is torn in downright admiration from the cowpunchers spots and dusty, an' he lifts his head an' looks lined up at the gate. Such tricks's he shows me straight in the eye. I don't know what us with that rope! Smooth? He's got 'leven we say to each other, but I stand up. cowpunchers eatin' their hearts out wantin' “Weatherby,' says I, 'loose them hind him, an' wonderin' where in heaven an earth feet.' an'hell he come from, leadin' a bunch of “He does it, an' the horse's still, watchin' Indian ponies and outlaw mustangs an' fuzzy me. runaways like that. His coat's like silk, pale “Carney,' I say again, 'take the ropes off yellow, an' his mane an' tail's pure white, an' his fore feet.' he's built like one of them thoroughbreds at “You've got nerve,' says Carney, thinkin' Overland Park, an' he's the proudest thing 't I'm goin' to try saddlin' him with all feet free. ever danced outside a governor's reception. “Caley's still got the rope that's around “But I land him. The rope settles around his neck, an' for a minute, lookin' at Sunny his neck an' sings tight, an' then the real Sides, I'm all shot to pieces—I'm weak in the fight begins. It's all over the park, an' I knees, an' trembly like a woman. I don't think the rope's goin' to break every minute know why, but I turn an' look through the till Carney, in about an hour, gets his rope on gap again, an' out a little way on the dunes the his front feet, an' then we down him. He's bunch of wild horses's standin' still, their up again and he's down, he's on his hind feet heads all this way, an' their manes tossin' scrapin' at the sky, he's chargin' at me like a red in the wind. An' beyond is—Sangre de mad steer, he's draggin' me an' Carney an' Cristo! our horses half-way across the little park, he's “I draw my knife, take the rope out of givin' us a fight 't they'll be talkin' about in Caley's hands, an' cut it at Sunny Sides's the San Luis for years an' years. throat. The's nothin' but dust in our eyes “Then he's down on the sand, with so an'a flash of yellow in the red, an' some shrill many ropes on him t' even he can't fight any whinnying, an' they're gone.” more, an’ we're lyin' back breathin'an? Brinker spread both hands out on the pine watchin' him. The's a long silence, an' I table, flat and helpless, and leaned over seem to hear Carney sayin' very far away toward me, with flushed face and troubled 'I'll give you five hundred for him.' I don't eyes. answer, an' soon I hear him say, farther off “Say, what's ailin' me?” he asked. The Department Store at Close Range By HARTLEY DAVIS D ESOLUTELY the Shopper from the to make some calls. Besides, she couldn't I Suburbs turned her eyes away from the see that it made any difference to the store; enticing displays in the windows of the big their delivery wagon passed her house every department store as she made for the main day. So the saleswoman said that the hooks entrance with the briskness of set purpose. and eyes would be delivered, and the Shopper But inside, temptation was inescapable, for from the Suburbs, bound to live up to her one may not walk through a department store resolution, fled by a side door. with one's eyes fixed on the floor nor turned The hooks and eyes were sold to her at a toward the ceiling, unless one wishes to be price perhaps a little less than the store made a shuttlecock. And straightway the actually paid the manufacturer for them Shopper was checked by certain dainty articles nearly all the staples at the notion counter are seductively displayed at the jewelry counter. sold at cost, or below. The cost of selling For ever so long she had craved one of those them was at least two cents and the cost of fan-chains and here they were offered at the suburban delivery was twenty-five cents, so bargain she had been waiting for—a ridicu the net loss to the store on the transaction lously low price, just half what- was twenty-seven cents. Hardening her lips and her resolution, the How can department stores afford to make Shopper from the Suburbs passed on-with this sort of sale? a gratulatory sense of virtue mingled with They couldn't if all shoppers resisted the regret, a not unusual concomitant of tempta- alluring displays in the windows, on the tion resisted. ... But really she must have counters and tables. Like the lady in Her- one of those belts. . . . And that aigrette was rick's poem, the department store shows just what she needed to wear with her new everywhere gown at the dinner on Thursday. She paused An enchantment and a snare guiltily for a second and then hurried on. For to catch the lookers-on. The material in that shirt-waist must have cost more than the price asked, and it was And this is an effect that great pains are stunning. Really, it would be saving money taken to produce. Indeed, the arrangement to buy it-just like putting it in the bank of departments is of such importance that it One never can have too many shirt-waists. may mean the difference between success and And those stockings- The Shopper from failure. Henry Siegel, who has started and the Suburbs felt her determination oozing developed some of the biggest department from her at the sight of each bargain table, stores of the country, has devoted years of and in self-defense she hurried toward the thought and experiment to this matter, and rear. he always decides personally where the de- She bought the paper of hooks and eyes for partments shall be placed and what space which she had come to the store, paid five they shall occupy. In other stores the ar- cents for it, and asked to have it delivered rangement of departments is determined by at her home in Orange, New Jersey. The many conferences. The general rule is saleswoman diplomatically asked if the lady simple, though each store of course has its couldn't take the little package with her, difficult individual problems. Articles that they didn't like to deliver parcels so easily come under the head of luxuries, like jewelry, portable. But the Shopper from the Suburbs are always pushed to the fore, where they will really couldn't think of carrying the package, be the first things to attract attention when because her purse was full and she was going people enter the store and the last things 312 The Department Store at Close Range 313 to catch their eyes when leaving. Depart- very considerable profit, the whole can be made ments like those devoted to cloaks and suits to show a fair return on the business done. and millinery are on the upper floors, where The popular idea is that a department store they can have plenty is merely the group- of space and custom- ing together of a ers can be served large number of comfortably, without separate businesses crowding. under one roof. But Now the notion the experiment of counter can sell ar- assembling busi- ticles at or below nesses in one store cost because it feeds to minimize the cost the more attractive of rent and other departments. No fixed charges has KELLNERS other department FURNIT been tried and dis- draws such a steady CARPETE continued as a fail- stream of people in- ure. The success of to the store, without the department store advertising. This is rests upon an entire- because it sells the ly different principle particular articles —upon standardiza- that women continu- tion. The depart- ously need, day in ments are not inde- and day out, and a pendent, but highly good notion section, specialized activities cleverly placed at the conforming to cer- rear, will thus keep tain fixed laws that busy several depart- govern the whole es- ments that might tablishment. otherwise struggle The old way of for existence. The doing business was under-cost prices, it simple and the should be said, apply methods were highly only to the staples; elastic. The pro- by adding to the de- prietor bought as partment, novelties, cheaply as he could, on which there is a THE "L" ENTRANCE TO “THE BIG STORE," NEW YORK. usually in quantities PHOTOGRAPH STUDIO 112 A CONSERVATORY IN THE SIEGEL-COOPER COMPANY'S NEW YORK STORE. 314 Everybody's Magazine TINN that were measured only by his capacity to sell and by his credit. He marked the goods in cipher, sometimes giving the actual cost and the minimum selling price, sometimes only the latter, and left it to his clerk to get as large a profit as could be wheedled from the customer. The proprietor was therefore ab- solutely dependent upon the cleverness of his clerks for his profit; the clerk who im- posed most upon the cus- tomer was the best salesman and commanded a relatively high salary. The percent- age of selling cost was thus enormous. Relying consid- erably on his own person- ality to win business, the proprietor usually stationed himself at the entrance of the store to greet customers and to settle disputes. Now the difference between the old way and the new is the difference between the old- time workshop, where everything was made by hand, and the factory, where machinery does the work. The machine makes articles exactly alike in standard sizes and the cost of produc- tion is enormously reduced, as every one knows. The modern methods of conducting a department store represent the introduction into mercantile life of this factory idea, in so far as it stands for uniformity, automatism, and cheapened production. Like the factory, the department store is itself a huge, ex- tremely complicated machine, and the store that most nearly approaches automatic perfection in its operation is the most suc- cessful. Probably the most im- portant factor in the devel- opment of the department- store machine is the idea of “one-price articles marked in plain figures.” This makes it possible for the goods practically to sell themselves. The element of bargaining, the most im- portant feature of the old system, is almost wholly eliminated. The chief func- tion of the clerk is to see that the machine works properly. He has no more to do with fixing the selling price than has the purchaser. I do not know who originated this idea. There is a story that a glovemaker in Paris first put it into execution and grew rich thereby. The first of the great department stores—the Bon Marché in Paris, which does more than double the business of any other store in the world—adopted the plan when it first opened its doors. A. T. Stewart introduced it into this country before the Civil War, and IN THE SHOE SHOP IN WANAMAKER'S PHILADELPHIA STORE. A DISPLAY IN THE MARSHALL FIELD COMPANY'S STORE, CHICAGO. A MUSICALE IN WANAMAKER'S PHILADELPHIA STORE, John Wanamaker was swift to realize its value. Another important principle of the system of standardization in the department store is that all departments shall make practically the same percentage of profit. Manufacturers who sell to department stores are often puzzled by the operation of this principle. I know of one of these who sought the merchandise manager of a big New York store with a novelty that made a direct appeal. “It looks promising," said the cautious merchandise manager. “How much?” “We can supply you in quantities at six cents apiece," said the manufacturer. “The selling price is twenty-five cents.” “Very good," said the manager; “I'll give you an order. But we will sell it at fifteen cents." “No, the selling price must be twenty-five cents,” insisted the manufacturer. “We have taken large orders with that stipulation." 315 316 Everybody's Magazine “We can't handle it at that price,” said the make practically the same percentage of manager. profit. A little later the same manufacturer sought It is then the volume of business and not the same merchandise manager with another the individual profits of departments that article that also pleased, and the manager make the great prosperity of a department was ready to buy until the question of the store. Many owners of big stores main- selling price came up. The manufacturer tain that the fundamental principle is to gave the figures, explaining that they meant a reduce the whole selling machinery to the profit of forty per cent. to the store. smallest possible cost and to fix prices so that “Can't handle it,” said the manager; there will be no actual profit on the goods. “there's not enough profit in it.” That is to say, these stores try to sell goods The manufacturer went away persuaded at exactly the price at which they are billed to that each department in that store did busi- them, plus the cost of selling. For their profit ness according to its own notions. As a they depend upon their discounts, the five, matter of fact, it was standardization that six, or seven per cent. allowed for cash pay- fixed the percentage of profit. ment. If they followed the custom that The first article would have been placed in prevails in practically every other commercial a department that turns over its capital many activity of letting accounts run from ten to times in a year; the second, in a department thirty days, they would not make a profit at that turns over its capital very slowly. Now the prices at which they sell goods. it is obvious that a department that does a The actual figures as to the volume of busi- business of, say, $100,000 a year on a capital ness of the big stores are rather closely of $10,000, can sell each article for a much guarded, and, except in one instance, those smaller margin of profit than a department here presented are estimates. They are rea- that does a business of $40,000 on the sonably near the truth, however. Marshall same capital. And the manager's appar- Field & Company of Chicago lead the de- ent inconsistency is perfectly reasonable partment stores of the United States. The when one remembers that standardization death of the head of the firm resulted in the requires that all departments shall in a year publication of the total for 1906, which VIEW OF THE SHOPPING DISTRICT ON SIXTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. The Department Store at Close Range 317 reached $26,500,000. This is the retail busi- ness, it should be remembered, the whole sale business being twice as much more, and bringing the total up to about $70,000,000. John Wanamaker's Philadelphia store comes next, with a volume of business that approximates $20,000,000, while the New York Wanamaker store ranks third in this store in Chicago, the Simpson Crawford store and the Fourteenth Street Store in New York, and the Henry Siegel Company store in Boston. James Stillman, president of the National City Bank in New York, is heavily interested with him. The two big McCreery stores and the Adams-O'Neill stores, the latter formerly separate businesses TELEPHONE SWITCHBOARD IN THE MARSHALL FIELD COMPANY'S STORE. country, with something like $17,000,000. The Siegel Cooper Company and R. H. Macy & Company are close rivals, with very little difference between them, while the Simp- son Crawford Company, B. Altman & Com- pany, James McCreery & Company, and Stern Brothers of New York, rank high. If one knows the volume of business of a department store, one can estimate the net profits pretty accurately. They range from five to seven per cent. of the total sales. The profits of the two Wanamaker stores are about $2,500,000 a year, while the Macy and Siegel Cooper stores each make between $800,000 and $1,000,000 a year. The ownership of these great businesses is mostly in the hands of a few men. Since the retirement of Robert C. Ogden, who was the head of the New York store, John Wan- amaker and his sons own all of the two big establishments. The Siegel Cooper store is controlled by B. Greenhut and his son, B. J. Greenhut, who is the active head of the busi- ness, and by four members of the Cooper family, although a considerable part of the $10,000,000 worth of stock is divided among small shareholders. Two brothers, Isidore and Nathan Straus, own the Macy store, but the latter's sons, Jesse, Percy, and Harry, have an interest. Henry Siegel is president of the company owning the Siegel Cooper each having its own great building, the Hahne store in Newark, and the McCreery store in Pittsburg are owned by H. B. Claflin & Company, the great wholesale dry goods house that entered the retail trade chiefly to protect its wholesale business. Because it is volume of business that counts, every department store of course tries to keep its stock as low as possible. Every- thing must be kept moving. Under the old system a store would buy a whole year's supply of staples and a season's supply of other goods. But it is not so now; and the modern method throws upon the shoulders of manufacturer and wholesaler the risks that formerly were assumed by the retail store, to the grave disorganization of the businesses of those who supply the big stores. Most women know that as a rule the things offered in bargain sales are sold below the actual cost of manufacture. Now the bargain sale is popularly supposed to serve a double purpose—to attract people to the store and to get rid of old goods. The first proposition is always true, while the latter applies to only about one-tenth of the bargain sales. The manufacturer stands the loss, for there is a very considerable loss, of the other nine-tenths. It is axiomatic among department store owners that there is always a manufacturer ALTE SLAR MACY'S CORNER AT BROADWAY AND THIRTY-FOURTIL STREET, NEW YORK. who is willing to sell some of his output at a selling, and he can make or break a great great sacrifice. It may be because he finds establishment. He takes over a part of the himself stocked with goods for which there is duties that formerly fell on the general no demand at the prices for which they were manager, the advertising manager, and, made to sell; oftener, he is hard pressed for frequently, one of the members of the firm. ready money. But whatever the cause, the Primarily, his business is to see that goods result is a bargain sale in a department store. are bought to the best advantage and sold And in all cases, except the one bargain sale as quickly as possible. in ten by which the store is getting rid of its The work of the merchandise manager own goods that haven't sold, the establish- is extremely varied, his knowledge extraor- ment makes its regular standard profit. dinarily wide. The price of raw silk in The buying for a department store has Italy, the weather at home, an advance been as carefully standardized as the selling, in furs in London, the efficiency of a $12-a- although the process has been slower. In the week clerk in his store are matters of daily old days the owners of the store did all the concern to him. In the course of a morn- buying. Then, as departments increased, ing that I spent with a merchandise mana- this part of the work was turned over to the ger in New York, he authorized, after five heads of departments, who were called buyers minutes' talk, the purchase of $35,000 worth and who were responsible to the general man- of goods beyond the buying limit allowed a ager or to one of the proprietors—a method department. A few minutes later he refused that still prevails in many of the biggest stores. to sanction the purchase of $100 worth of Something like half a dozen years ago the goods for another department. And then astute John Wanamaker saw that there was he devoted nearly an hour to investigating a a weakness in this system and he further complaint made by a customer that a silver standardized the buying by introducing the purse for which she had paid $10.50 could merchandise manager. Other establish- be bought in another store for $7.50. He ments have followed his example. knew offhand what this particular article had To the merchandise manager is deputed cost in Vienna and the duty on it. the supervision of both the buying and the It is the ambition of the merchandise mana- 318 The Department Store at Close Range 319. ger to keep stocks down and to increase sales; that is, the volume of business. He is therefore continu- ally between the Scylla of running out of stock al- together and the Charyb- dis of being overstocked. He has his eye on every department, and each morning at nine o'clock there is handed him a statement of exactly what was sold on the previous day and what stock is on hand. Every article in the store is marked with a tag MACY'S HAS THE LARGEST DEPARTMENT STORE RESTAURANT IN NEW YORK. showing when it was re- ceived and when it was put on sale. If a very important factor. The amount of certain goods are not moving, he sends for money that shall be expended in advertising the buyer in charge of the department to is decided by the heads of the concern-in explain. When the explanation is unsatis- these days the proprietors are almost wholly factory, the merchandise manager directs occupied with the finances and with deter- two or three of his own particular staff of mining questions of policy that give each experienced salesmen, employed exclusively store its particular character. The advertis- in this sort of work, to go into that depart- ing is the largest single item of expense of ment and find out what is the trouble. If the a department store, apart from the money prices are too high, they are lowered. If the spent for goods. Last year the daily news- salespeople are inefficient, they are replaced. papers in New York were paid $500,000 If the styles or colors are not popular, there by the Siegel Cooper Company; $480,000 is pretty sure to be a bargain sale of those by John Wanamaker; $400,000 by R. H. goods. For it is better business to sell articles Macy & Company; $300,000 by the Simp- for next to nothing than to carry them in- son Crawford Company; Altman & Com- definitely. pany spent the least of the great establish- The merchandise manager also governs ments—under $100,000. But Altman & the advertising, deciding which department Company have other expenditures that might shall be exploited and what space the others legitimately be charged up to advertising, one shall have; he also determines the window of which is the enormous sum spent on the displays. In both cases the weather is delivery system. All of their wagons and automobiles are as fine as money can buy and the horses used for the wagons cost about $1,200 a pair. In establishments with- out a merchandise man- ager, the advertising manager has much au- thority. His chief busi- ness is to make sure that every five cents spent on advertising shall bring in a dollar's worth of busi- ness. One of his hardest duties is the distribution of charities. Some of the big stores appropriate $10,000 A DEPARTMENT IN WANAMAKER'S PHILADELPHIA STORE. every year for charities, in 320 Everybody's Magazine addition to giving away many articles. The the business in books. If the buyer is reason- advertising manager is paid anywhere from ably sure that he can sell 200 copies of a cer- $4,000 to $10,000 a year and he earns more tain novel, he doesn't buy that number at once. than he gets. The salary of the merchandise The publisher usually gets seventy-five cents manager is a variable quantity, ranging from for a book that is listed at $1.50, retail. $15,000 a year up to $50,000, the maximum The department store buyer orders ten books, being paid in the store known as The Fair in for which he pays $7.50. He sells these Chicago. Frequently the merchandise chief books at $1.08 each—the selling price is as gets a salary and a percentage of the total carefully standardized as everything else in a business. Next to him department store, as I are the buyers, the ac- shall presently ex- tual heads of depart- plain. When the first ments, whose relative ten books are sold, standing depends up- the buyer orders ten on the importance of more, paying for the department in a them out of the sales particular store, for of the first ten, and so each has its features. on until the demand Most buyers receive for the novel is ex- from $5,000 to $10,- hausted. If he sells 000 a year, but the the whole 200, he has range is from $2,500 done a business of to $35,000, the latter $216 on a capital of sum being paid the $7.50, and he has the linen buyer of the profits made on each Marshall Field store ten to apply to buy- in Chicago. Siegel ing other books if he Cooper Company wishes. paid its former gro- Of course most of cery buyer $20,000 a the articles sold in year. He began as a department stores are clerk at $10 a week. not to be had in the Subject to the rules open market. Certain that standardize the things have to be or- whole establishment, dered a long time in the buyer has much advance; before they leeway. He is appor- are made, in fact. tioned a certain part THE FAMOUS FOUNTAIN IN THE SIEGEL COOPER The buyer arranges to of the store and a COMPANY'S STORE, NEW YORK. have deliveries made proper proportion of every month or at the rent is charged against him. This is based shorter intervals, paying spot cash on each upon the cost of the building, when the con- delivery, and thus avoids tying up capital cern owns it, or upon what the concern pays, in the whole order. when it leases the property. He is also as- The manner in which the selling price is signed a share of the general expense of heat, fixed varies in different stores, but the prin- light, delivery, bookkeeping, advertising, and ciple is the same. The merchandise mana- other things. He is given a certain amount ger, where there is one, always fixes the of capital with which to do business and his selling price. Oftener, this is the duty of the purchases each month are regulated by the buyer of the department. Everything is de- sales of the preceding months. Within cer- termined on a percentage basis. To the tain limits he can determine the number of price at which the goods are billed to the store salespeople and the salaries that shall be are added the fixed charges, which include paid in his department. rent, delivery, bookkeeping, selling expense, Like the merchandise manager, the buyer etc., the range being from eighteen to thirty makes every effort to keep stocks low, in order per cent., and the average about twenty- that the capital invested in the department five per cent. The most variable of these may be kept working. For illustration, take items is the rent charged. Manifestly, de- The Department Store at Close Range 321 partments like furniture, pianos, and house. But when an employee steals goods to sell hold utensils, which require a vast amount of and is caught, arrest follows. space, must pay a high rent in consequence. Professional shoplifters have been largely To these fixed charges is added the net eliminated, owing to systematic prosecution. profit, which in most stores varies greatly By far the greatest number of thefts commit- in different departments. It is not based ted by outsiders are traced to women, usually upon the highest price that the public can reputable, who yield to a sudden temptation. be persuaded to pay, as in the old way, but A curious thing is that they seldom take on the number of times that the stock—that articles of any value. They keep on stealing is to say, the working capital-can be turned until they are caught-each store employs over in the course of a year. In some de- from five to fifteen detectives, of whom partments the profit placed on particular about half are women and then the guilty articles may be only two or three per cent. ones are invited to the manager's office, where In others it may run as high as forty per cent. they are searched, and closely questioned. Yet at the end of the year the two depart. They are detained until investigation is made, ments will show about the same percentage of but if their stories are proved and it is shown net profit. An article that sells for seventy that they are not professional thieves, they cents in one department may be shifted to are allowed to go. They seldom offend a another and sold for fifty cents, without second time. Incidentally, the newspapers making the slightest difference in the net never name a store in which a person is profit of the store at the end of a year. . arrested for shoplifting, for the simple reason Most people think that the custom of that it would frighten away customers. A fixing prices in odd cents is to make goods retail store on Broadway that did a large appear cheaper, but that isn't the reason for it. business was actưally ruined by the publica- When one deals in percentages there are tion of the details of several arrests within bound to be odd figures. Take the books as its doors. an illustration again. The store pays seventy- At least a hundred kleptomaniacs are five cents for each volume. It adds twenty- known to New York department stores. five cents for the fixed general expenses and Most of the managers admit that klepto- eight cents, for the profit. If the department mania is a disease, to be dealt with as such. were not compelled to carry thousands of There is a certain grim humor, affording food dollars' worth of standard works, which sell for thought, in the fact that two of the worst slowly, the percentage of profit charged would offenders belong to the families of high in- be lower; if it were not for the enormous surance officials and another is the wife of a holiday trade, the percentage of profit charged bank cashier!. There is one pitiful case of would be higher. Standardization again. a woman whose daughter, a child of ten, This charge that I have called net profit always accompanies her and promptly in- isn't all net by a good deal. It must cover the forms someone in authority when her loss of breakage and general destruction, the mother enters a store. . failure of goods to sell, and theft. The Let me return to the employees of the big cheaper stores suffer more seriously from stores. Under the buyer is the assistant thieving than the higher-priced ones, because buyer, whose salary is sometimes very large, their employees are less trustworthy. For depending on that paid his chief, and next years the proprietors estimated that their to him is the stock clerk, who gets anywhere theft losses were due half to their dishonest from $25 to $60 a week. Then come the employees and half to outsiders, but not salespeople. Among the men the best paid one of them would venture to estimate are in the furniture and piano departments, the total. There is a curious standard of where they usually receive a drawing ac- ethics among some of the employees. They count, that is, a minimum fixed weekly sal- do not regard taking articles for their own ary, and a commission, computed at regular use as theft, whereas to take them for some intervals; and in the clothing department, one else, even a member of the family, is where the best salesmen get $25 a week. plain robbery. Almost never are these guilty For women the millinery department is the ones prosecuted even if they are detected best, the salaries ranging from $15 to $35 a and the proof is conclusive. They are dis- week, but there are two long seasons of idle- charged, of course, and notices are posted ness. Sales women in the cloak and suit de- in the dressing-rooms explaining the reason. partment get from $15 to $30 a week. 322 Everybody's Magazine The wages paid the senior salespeople in directs the clerk to deliver her purchases, she the general departments of the best stores are has little notion of the highly organized ma- from $o to $18 a week. The juniors range chine that carries them to her home. Let us from $6 to $8. Below these are the cashiers, take the Macy store, which claims to have wrappers, checkers, cash girls, and errand the most perfect delivery system in the coun- boys. In Macy's and Wanamaker's begin- try. The whole basement, two acres in extent, ners are started at $3 and $3.50 a week; in is given over to the packing and delivery de- Siegel Cooper's no employee receives under partments, with a small space for the com- $4 a week and those whose wages are under plaint bureau, which employs sixty persons $7 have luncheon free, a luncheon so good who investigate about 350 complaints a day, that even heads of departments take ad- written, telephoned, or verbal. About nine- vantage of it when they want to save time. tenths of them are due to errors made by cus- The demand for really good salespeople is tomers themselves, or to the non-delivery of greater than the supply and the chances of goods ordered but not in stock. If the com- promotion are excellent. The head cashier plaint bureau is given the date of a purchase of Macy's, who now gets $6,000 a year, began and the name of the purchaser, in five min- as a cash girl in that establishment at $3 a utes it can trace the package through all the week. persons who handled it. The actual mistakes The employees in any one of the big stores made by the delivery department of Macy's would make a fair-sized town. The present is about one-half of one per cent. Super- Wanamaker store in Philadelphia has more intendent Price, who has been in charge of than 7,000 employees and the new store will the department for thirty years, is extremely have 10,000, distributed over forty-two proud of that record. It is very remarkable acres of floor space. The Wanamaker store considering that Macy's deliver, on an aver- in New York employs about five thousand age, 35,000 packages a day under ordinary people. It has ten acres of floor space in the conditions and 70,000 in the holiday season. old A. T. Stewart building and twenty-two In this Macy store, when the parcels are acres in the new Wanamaker building, the wrapped they are tossed into a chute, where two being connected by subways. Macy's is they are picked up by a conveyor, working on still the largest store under one roof, with the principle of an endless belt, one belt twenty-six acres of floor space. On the day leading to another, from floor to floor and when I saw the actual figures—it was in a across the great spaces. Delicate glass is quiet season and the weather made it the carried as safely as a roll of muslin. When dullest month known in years—there were they reach the basement, the articles are 4,625 employees in the store. The general discharged upon four great endless belts public does not come in contact with half of arranged in the form of a rectangle, which the employees of a big store; for example, bring them to the sorters. These in turn the salespeople, floor-walkers, and such em- toss the packages into other conveyors, which ployees in the Macy store number only about carry them to the tables for the different parts two thousand. The non-productive staff, of the city and the suburbs. Here they are as it is called, is in round numbers thus again sorted into particular routes, each divided: delivery, 600; manufacturing, 350; having its own bin where a clerk makes an wrappers and checkers, 300; office force, 250; entry of every package. Either the superin- porters, cleaners, elevator men, etc., 200; tendent or his assistant unlocks the bin, and cashiers, 160; receivers, 150; packers, 150; the drivers and their helpers carry the pack- engineering force, 60. The general manager ages to the wagons. looks after them all with the assistance of the The C.O.D. system, which is such a con- general superintendent and his subordinates, venience to customers, entails a vast amount including the floor-walkers—or aisle mana- of trouble and expense upon the department gers, as they prefer to be called—who are a store. In the first place, it necessitates spe- sort of police officer. Incidentally, if the cial cashiers; each driver is bonded, the firm employees would make a town, the number paying the premium, and he is required to of people who enter one of these big stores settle up after every trip. Then, the per- daily would make a city. It seldom falls be- centage of people who order goods sent home low 150,000, and during the holiday season C.O.D. and change their minds when the it reaches 250,000. goods arrive is dismayingly large. Besides, When a customer in a department store ever so many people with a curiously per- The Department Store at Close Range 323 verted sense of humor think it a fine joke to with full pay and without a penny of expense order a quantity of goods sent to some one to herself. In the store is an emergency who knows nothing about them, and this of hospital, with a physician and trained nurses course results in endless bother. Sometimes always in attendance, and medicines are there is a different motive. One store had a furnished free. particularly flagrant case of a woman who or- The curse of all department stores is dered thousands of dollars' worth of goods tuberculosis and the physician at Siegel sent to different addresses before she was Cooper's watches the great army closely. finally caught. Her explanation took away When an employee's symptoms indicate the breath of the general manager. She was the dread disease, the sufferer is given the teaching her daughter how to shop! privilege of going to a sanitarium that Mr. The Macy store can deliver packages in Greenhut maintains at Summit, New Jersey, Manhattan for less than five cents. It costs to remain until cured, or, if the disease is too other stores from five to ten cents. Each Macy far advanced for cure, until the end. It is driver is supposed to make a certain number one of the finest benefactions I know of, and of trips a day, and he is paid if he makes one of its finest points is Mr. Greenhut's ret- additional ones. The drivers' uniforms are icence about it. furnished them and it is the custom of Nathan Also in this big store is a social secretary, Straus personally to present each driver with who is becoming an important personage. $25 and each helper with $15 after the holiday The employees call her “the welfare woman,” season, when the wagons are going from seven and I like that better. Certainly it is more in the morning until midnight. Also they descriptive of her infinite activities. None get a week's vacation with pay every year. in the great beehive is busier than she, none There is a growing disposition on the part more beloved. She is everywhere preaching of department stores to look after the welfare the gospel of clean living and cheerfulness. of their employees. The question of wages, She mothers the whole establishment. always a source of grave concern, is being The Wanamaker stores have clubs in which adjusted on the basis of accomplishment, the benefit idea is worked out in the form of that is, in many of the stores salaries are fixed education and social activities. These clubs by the quantity of goods that each clerk can go in for languages, literature, and other things sell—and the plan is likely to be universally that make for culture, and the firm contributes adopted. Filene's in Boston has a nearly liberally to them. Most of the fines that are complete system of what is practically profit imposed in department stores are turned over sharing. In New York the plan of paying to these organizations of employees. salespeople on a percentage basis is called It is the claim of department stores that paying them what they earn for the store. they have more eleemosynary features than If a clerk is paid $7.50 a week, and the any other big business. This isn't exactly selling-expense in the department is three true, but it is true that they give the public per cent., she is supposed to be selling $250 greater service for less cost than any other worth of goods a week. Now if she sells an institution. Witness the rest- and writing- average of $300 worth, she is worth $9 rooms, the restaurants that are usually con- a week, so the firm can afford to raise her ducted at a loss, the arrangements that are salary to $8 or $8.50 and can still reduce the made in most stores to care for babies. The selling-expense so far as she is concerned. It Wanamaker store is strong on these features. is worked out differently by each store, but In the new building in New York there is one that is the principle. In Saks & Company of the finest auditoriums in the country. It nearly all of the clerks receive a commission. seats 1,500 people and two concerts are given Most of the stores have a mutual benefit each week-day during most of the year. It association with a sick fund, which the firm has its own singers and instrumentalists and finds it a great economy to support liberally in addition employs some of the great masters. simply because it practically eliminates Richard Strauss was paid $3,000 for three shamming. That of the Siegel Cooper store concerts. It costs about $50,000 a year to in New York is very prosperous, with a large give these concerts and admission is free. surplus. In addition Mr. Greenhut main- Of course it pays-remember, the Wana- tains a large hotel at Long Branch, New Jer- maker stores lead in the volume of business sey, where every woman and girl employed in New York—but the public profits, never- in the store may have two weeks' vacation theless. ALEXANDER By BEN BLOW Illustrations ALEXANDER sat out in whackin' up to where the A the road, deserted, By MARTIN JUSTICE melons is, nine chances to whooping in desolation, as he one he's goin' to skyte out watched a crowd of barefoot an' whoop aroun' till every urchins trudge down the dis- guinea on the place squalls, tance in a haze of dust. His Water-melon-patch, water- ears, low, drooped, pictured melon-patch,' an' then " the misery that possessed him, and every Johnny Simmons cut in glibly, “An' then one in hearing distance knew that he was that blame waggle-legged hired man o old torn with sorrow. With agonized thumpings Harkinses'll come a-runnin' out an’ shoot us of his tail he beat up the dust behind him in full o' salt.” tiny spurts, and when the boys turned noisily Meantime, while his former friends were into a little by-lane-one of them lingering a congratulating themselves on his absence, moment to cast back an imaginary rock of Alexander still sat out in the road bewailing ponderous weight—he gave himself anew to his blighted life. Hoarse from much vocali- desolation and threw yet more pathos into zing, he emitted the long-drawn, excruciating the whoops that already wrenched his over- whoops with which he was accustomed to burdened soul. reproach the moon for being full. His eyes “If he ain't the durndest fool I ever seen," half closed in ecstasy of misery, his ears filled observed the urchin who had devoted a brief with melodious outpourings from his harassed moment of his valuable time to delivering a soul, he was absorbed, and did not notice an farewell threat, “he's clost kin. He kin chaw approaching vehicle until the soft thudding of off more trouble an? howl over it louder than horses' feet drew very close, and then, turning any pup I ever had, an' that ain't been no few. a mournful face over his shoulder, he was Pap says he kind o' thinks, sometimes, that galvanized into frenzied terror, and departed the pup wuz born noodle-headed an' it keeps down the road in vast, spraddle-legged leaps. gettin' worse, hey?" The glance had shown him Deacon Simmons The inquiry was addressed to a freckle- in his buggy, coming home from Warsaw, faced youngster who lacked two upper front while close at hand, with evil in his eyes, teeth. his neck scruffed up, was Deacon Simmons's “Yep,” was the reply. “You called the Boze, Boze the redoubtable, Boze who had turn, Fatty. That ain't no lie.” licked every dog in Macedon. “You bet it ain't no lie,” said Fatty. Terror lent wings to Alexander's some- “S’pose we took him 'n' what then? While what gawky paws. The dust he kicked up we're a-scrapin' our pants buttons off belly- made him resemble a whizzing comet, leading 324 Alexander 325 a nebulous yellow tail. His wails ceased. He needed all his breath for purposes of loco- motion. He fled silently, with fear palpita- ting in his heart. Reaching the lane, he bolted madly in, gathering yet more speed from hope that sprung anew. Close behind he heard deep breathing and the snick of awful jaws that snapped in lustful hungering for his blood. Around the corner swept Boze, almost nip- ping the frantic pup on the turn; then, know- ing that Deacon Simmons would not go that way, he slowed up, stopped, and sneezed away the dust that had settled on him from the cloud stirred up by Alexander. And then he laughed. His tongue hung out, his ribs heaved. Far up the lane he saw the pup, his legs spread in wide disorder, departing at a rate of speed that would have made a jack- rabbit envious. Boze straightened up, kicked out his hind legs, scratching up and casting far behind him little bits of turf, looked long- ingly again at his escaped prey, and said, “Woof! Woof-woof!” with great contempt. “Most got him that time, didn't you, old boy?” said Deacon Simmons, coming up. His face was humorous, and his tone caressing, for he knew that a thorough rolling in the dust was all that Alexander had escaped. Then, smiling happily, he drove on home, in blissful ignorance that close at hand, hid in a con- cealing elderberry thicket, was his son and heir, ringleader of a predatory band whose mouths watered and whose stomachs ached with hungering for the melons of his friend and neighbor, Peter Harkins, and that Alex- ander, in his flight, had traced their footsteps up the lane. Beset behind, abandoned by his friends roo, ar-roo!” A rock, dropped from the clear sky, lit between his paws, raising a puff of dust, and bounded against his stomach, drum-taut to give a better volume to his voice. The howl terminated in a frightened “Oof!" as his muscles, contracting involuntarily, cata- pulted him straight up until he cleared the ground. His ears, soaring under the impetus of his sudden leap, flapped skyward, setting off his frightened face, while with wild paws he clawed desperately at the intangible air. From the deep of the elderberry thicket, across the fence, the boys emerged. Checked in his impulse for flight by the memory of Boze, the pup assumed a mournfully apologetic air, and wagged his tail. “Dog rat his skin, d’you ever see sech a pup?” asked Fatty, with undisguised disgust. “S a lucky thing we seen your daddy comin' in time to duck into the elderberries, hey?”. This remark was directed to Johnny Sim- mons, who gave it unqualified assent, and then observed, “Ought to 'a' tied him in the first place.” “That's what,” said Fatty, blazing into wrath. “I've a durn good notion to climb over the fence an' lambast the stuffin' out o' him, right now. Did your durndest to git us noticed, didn't yuh!” He was speaking now to Alexander, who settled meekly into the dust and wagged a sad, apologetic tail. Johnny Simmons, with meditative mien, bent a stout elderberry, and when it popped, breaking, the pup cowered yet lower, shivered a trifle, be- thought himself of flight, and then remem- bered again that back of him was Boze, Boze the relentless, who even now might be sneak- ing on him unaware. He cast a hasty look around, then dropped his lean head to his TERROR LENT WINGS TO ALEXANDER'S SOMEWHAT GAWKY PAWS. before, nothing was left for Alexander but to howl some more. Seating himself, he glanced around, settled into comfort, pointed his nose skyward, and tuned again a wail of desolation from his dusty vocal chords. “Ur-roo, ur- dust-smeared paws, and hopelessly resigned himself to torture with appealing, mournful eyes. "Beatin' don't do no good,” said Fatty, softened at this sight of utter woe. “He'd 326 Everybody's Magazine howl so everybody in a mile an' a half'd think we wuz prying his back teeth out with a rat-tail file, an' he wouldn't go home; naw, you c'd beat him into pulp, an' all he'd do'd be to waller an' howl. We got to take him, sought his champion, and with hot tongue licked his dusty, brier-scratched bare feet. A kindly little hand patted the pup's muzzle, then closed firmly on one ear, while the other hand emerged from concealment, bearing the HE CLAWED DESPERATELY AT THE INTANGIBLE AIR. that's all they is to it. We jist got to, that's bull cord, and Alexander was tied, tied so all.” securely that a fringe of hair stood up around Then there arose before Alexander's ap- his neck like a spiked collar. The crowd re- prehensive eyes a champion in the person of sumed its march toward the melons, with “Whitey Wilkins," a tow-headed youngster Whitey Wilkins, dragging Alexander, bring- whose blue overalls, supported by a single ing up the rear. gallus, hung farther down one leg than the Across a field, over a rail fence, through other, making him seem to limp as he walked. which Alexander was forced with protesting “Aw, don't beat him, Johnny,” he begged, howls, into another field and down to a creek, "aw, don't. How'd you like to be left be- the march led. hind if you wuz the pup? I'll take care o “Now, fellers,” said Johnny Simmons, him, honest injun, if some o’ you fellers’ll “we foller up the creek till we git to a gully, lift me a melon.” then we take the gully an' that lands us in "I'll git you a melon, Whitey," Johnnyol? Harkinses patch, but we got to do some Simmons responded promptly, much re- awful snaky crawlin', cuz the grass ain't higla lieved, “but you got to swing on to the pup an' they's no tellin' but what that blame hired awful tight.” man o old Harkinses is settin' up right now Sliding his hand far into the depths of the a-layin' fur us, with his eyes peeled on them half-masted pants leg, Whitey Wilkins pro- melons." duced with great triumph a length of grimy With a view to future depredations, Johnny twine, hid in some moment of boyish inspira- Simmons had marked out the ground long tion for just such need. “Here's a piece o' before, and led by him, the boys trudged up bull cord,” he said; “I guess he ain't a-goin' the creek, Alexander joyful even in restraint. to bust that. Hyah, Sandy, hyah, Sandy, When they reached the gully they stopped hyah, puppy, come here, you durn fool.” and gathered close, and Johnny Simmons One hand patted the front of one blue leg spoke again. in irresistible invitation, while the other held “Say, Fatty,” he said, “better leave the in readiness the tether that was to bind. pup an' Whitey here. We don't want Sandy Alexander arose, reassured by Whitey's ad- no closter, cuz he might snake his head loose, vances, and squirmed between two lower rails hey?”. of the snake fence. Humbly crawling, he “How fur is it?" inquired Whitey, not the Alexander 327 least abashed at being mentioned second to "Durn your picture!” he gasped. “Don't the pup. you know who your friend is? Here I'm “Right smart piece up the gully, Whitey," a-missin' all the fun fur you an' you go actin' was the answer. “You better stay here. scratch. Mind now or you'll see what I do No tellin' what's goin' to happen when you to you.” go melon hookin'. If that blame hired man He got up, releasing Alexander's muzzle happens to skyte out after us you don' cautiously. The pup regained his feet and need to lose no sleep. Just turn the pup shook himself, beginning at his ears and loost an' make out you're crawfishin'. You ending at the very tip of his mud-smeared ain't had no hand in melon hookin', no, you tail, liberally bespattering his guardian with ain't. You just happened to pick this place ooze, and then glanced upward with one hu- cuz it's a likely lookin' spot fur crawfish. morous eye, entirely unabashed. The boy Crawfishin' ain't no crime, is it?” seated himself on a tuft of swamp grass, and “One spot's good as another spot," re the pup, snuggling close to him, rested his sponded Whitey. “ All the same to me. I'm head on his knee and looked up into his face the kind that changes spots when I git tired. with honest eyes. A muddy hand stole out Don't you lose no sleep over me, but don't you and gently patted the nestling head, and git excited an' furgit to lift me a melon, cuz I with perfect confidence that his words were ain't anxious to go back an' lift one all alone!" understood, the boy spoke. "Nough said," answered Johnny Sim “What in time makes you sech a fool, mons. “You git one if any one does. Come Sandy?” he asked. “You don't do nothin' on, fellers, snooks while we're in the gully, but waller in trouble from mornin' till night. belly-whacks to the ground when we git to I lay right now you're up to some devil- the patch; le's go!” Stooping, they went up ment." the gully, disappearing around a little bend, The pup wagged his tail, while his soft and Alexander and his guardian were alone. brown eyes denied utterly that he harbored The pup whimpered, looking after them, and any thought of evil, and the boy patted his when they had disappeared from view, looked head again. Far up the creek a cow came craftily at Whitey; then, without warning, down to drink. A bullfrog close at hand made a frantic leap, hoping to free himself. dived head first into the cool waters with a Off guard and utterly surprised, Whitey "plop.” The pup wriggled-his quick eye grabbed wildly, his bare foot slipped, and saw the cow, his quick ear heard the frog, he plunging heavily, he fell upon the pup, wanted to bark, longed to bark, started to squeezing out a howl. Swiftly, he clapped bark, when a hand clamped his jaws close HE FELL UPON THE PUP, SQUEEZING OUT A HOWL. a muddy hand over Alexander's muzzle, and then flaming with righteous wrath he belted him upon a mud-bespattered ear. and a second grimy, hard little hand dealt him another cuff on the ear. “They ain't no trustin' you,” said the boy. "COME ON, FELLERS," SAID JOHNNY SIMMONS. "LE'S GIT. NEVER LAY CLOST TO TROUBLE WHEN YOU KIN MOVE." “Durn you! Blame me if I don't git mad turning partially around within his clothes, at you yit. I ain't a-goin' to fool with you tethered the frisking pup to a button far much longer.” He raised the pup's head in the rear. Then Whitey Wilkins picked and looked down deep into his eyes. “Y' up his melon and Fatty Peters picked up his, hear?” he said. “Y' better mind.” and the crowd moved on to safety and the The pup wagged his tail. The cow de- feast. When they had reached the spring parted, her thirst slaked, and the bullfrog that marked the ending of their pilgrimage, lifted his round, knobby eyes which looked they put the melons in and piled cool leaves like tiny bubbles, above the water, and viewed and clinging mud upon them, released the his natural enemies with unconcealed dis- pup from bondage, and sat down to rest. And trust. A catbird, coming down to bathe, then the youngest member of the crowd, a perched close by with flirting tail, miawing at black-eyed urchin whose dark hair thatched the boy, whose arm ached with desire to get up a head of vast philosophy, made this pro- and paste a rock at her. The low-hung, fleecy found remark: clouds, swept wind-blown before the sun, “Sav, fellers, ain't it just nifty to be a made shadows that raced across the fields like kid?”. cavalry in charge. The pup wriggled again, “Oh, I do'know,” said Johnny Simmons. but the boy clung close to the string. “Goin' to school ain't no picnic, but it's got The pup wriggled yet more, looking up to be done. I never thought chores was much the gully. The boy followed suit, and saw fun, neither. Fur a good time in this world a sight of gladness: Five hot urchins, one kind o' seems to me I'd rather be a dog. struggling manfully under two huge, striped Look at Sandy. Does he have to scrabble melons, the others each with one as striped fur a livin'? Does he have to worry his and as huge, came into view, and Fatty, brains over spellin'? Ain't a place to sleep speaking thickly, replied to an inquiring give him? An' when he grows up he ain't look: never goin' to have nothin' to do but snooze “Naw, we didn't git 'em, naw.” in the sun an’git up now ’n’ then an' chase “Come on, fellers," said Johnny Simmons, a shoat out o' the yard. D'vou s'pose fur a not made the least bit reckless by success. minute it tastes bad to him when he's a-chaw- “Le's git. Never lay clost to trouble when in' a hog's ear? Not him; he likes it, he you kin move. Say you, Fatty! Tie that does.” string o' Sandy's to a pants button an’ let “Dogs can't talk, though,” said Billy Day, Whitey tote his melon. I ain't got no arms defending the niftiness of kidhood. “Kind left.” o seems to me I'd miss that.” Fatty, obedient, set his melon down, and “Naw, they can't talk, but they kin wag 328 Alexander 329 their tails mighty knowin'. Anyway, how nothin' but instinc'. Some o' you fellers tell d'you know they can't talk? My daddy says me what makes a dog put all four feet clost Doc Henderson told him that them big-bug together an' turn round three times 'fore he men in Wash'nt'n told him that even the lays down.' D’you ever see a cat do that-a- teeny little ants talk to each other. Now way? Maybe you did, but I say you didn't, what you got to say?" cuz cats don't do it.” . This inquiry was made triumphantly as if Evidently regarding the argument as too definitely settling the discussion, but Fatty strenuous for the occasion, Johnny Simmons arose in negation that was contemptuously created a diversion. “Where's that blame serene. pup?” he asked. “Aw, g'wan," he said. “Kin they hear As if in response to the inquiry, Alexander what the ants say? G’wan." spoke for himself. “Woof!” he said; “woof- “Animals is got sense though, 'n'I wouldn't woof!” Evidently he was far off, for the . be s’prised none if they could talk," inter- sound came faintly.. jected Whitey Wilkins. “Our ol' Maje got “I hear him," said Billy Day. “Maybe bit by a cott'nmouth onct, an' pap says here's he's got somethin'; le's see!” most likely where we have to raise another “Maybe," admitted Fatty, “an' maybe fool pup, but does he die? Naw, he don't not. Y'never kin tell. Sometimes he gnaws die. What does he do? He hunts up a hog holes in a brush pile till you'd think they wuz waller before the pizen gits to workin' good, a fambly meetin' o' swamp rabbits bein' held an' buries hissef till they ain't nothin' but his there 'n' nothin' comes out; then again he'll nose sticks out an'he cures hissef. How'd he let you kick a rabbit up between his paws an' know mud'd cure? Has he ever been snake- not say nothin' till he's got a safe head start, bit before? Naw, 'course he ain't, so some 'n' then he takes out after him hollerin' bloody dog friend o' hisn that had, must of told murder every jump.” him 'bout the mud. Now is they any answer "Tain't goin' to cost nothin' to see, to that? Kin they talk or can't they?” though,” said Johnny Simmons; "come on, The discussion of old Maje's snake bite ex- fellers, le's take a chanst.” perience was conducted with much asperity, The crowd arose and traced the sound of while the boys absorbed the water-melons, Alexander's frantic yelps. There he was, now lusciously chill, and Alexander, tired of dancing before a brush pile, attacking it furi- TETHERED THE FRISKING PUP TO A BUTTON FAR IN THE REAR. bombardment with melon seed, wandered away into the woods. Fatty Peters main- tained the negative with wise logic between vast mouthfuls of sweet pulp. “How'd the first dog find out mud'd cure?” he demanded. "He didn't have no time to git advice. Somethin' had to be done an' done durn quick. I tell you 'twasn't ously with his teeth, now and then pulling the brush aside from an aperture that led into the depths, and growling with deep rumblings between barks. “I bet you he is got somethin',” said Billy Day. “Look at 'im. Sic, puppy; git 'im, boy!” Alexander, enheartened, redoubled his ef- 330 Everybody's Magazine forts and his growls. Poking his. lean head into the hole, he pushed and squirmed, hump- ing his back up and shoving frantically with his hind legs, while with teeth and fore paws he strove to enlarge the opening. Gradually guished beyond the power of any sound to tell. “That's him,” gasped Fatty at a distance. “Oh, no, he ain't no fool. Oh, no, he don't hunt trouble any. Will he know a polecat SHE GRASPED THE BROOM AND SAID, "SCAT YOU!" ALEXANDER SCATTED. he went in, while the boys, drawing encour- agement from his evident sincerity, poked into the brush pile and jumped on it, cheer- ing him on, the while, with frenzied whoops. Burrowing desperately, the pup bored in and disappeared from view, save for a tail that quivered with excitement; and from the depths came fierce snarling and relentless growls. “Whoopee! Sic 'im, boy! Sic 'im, pup!” yelled Fatty, becoming excited. “Say, fel- lers, honest, he might 'a' holed a mink.” The wild chorus encouraging the pup to "sic 'im” rose noisily, the growls became more fierce, and then, in the unseen depths, there was an earthquake followed by a wail of utterly heart-broken misery and despair. Un- certain as to the exact nature of the quarry, the boys withdrew as the agonized yelps sounded louder and yet more loud, and then the pup burst from the brush pile, tail first, enveloped in an atmosphere that language is inadequate to picture or describe. “Gee, fellers," said Fatty, "it's a polecat! Y' better run, cuz if it gits on you it ain't never goin' to come off.” The crowd needed no further invitation to withdraw, while Alexander, blinded, wal- lowed in the dust, howling as if his heart would break, rubbing his nose, his eyes, an- nex' time, will he? Some o’you fellers hurry up and tell me, will he, hey?” There was no answer to this frantic appeal for information; they were all too full to laugh. But Alexander, by dint of much rubbing, had got one eye into condition to locate his com- panions, and with a deep yearning for com- fort, he made for Fatty, howling as he came. “G’way,” yelled Fatty: “g'way, blame you!” Alexander still came on, and Fatty, stop- ping swiftly, caught up a club and landed it with deadly aim upon his heaving ribs, still shrieking frantically, “G’way, g’home!” Staggered, the pup saw Johnny Simmons and made for him. A well-aimed missile tangled his legs and brought him to the ground, where he pawed wildly and raised a whoop of anguish greater than before. Then he saw Whitey Wilkins, and set sail for him. Whitey fled, accompanied by much advice. “Run, Whitey, run,” howled Fatty. “Don't let him git any on you. Run! Run!” “Git a club an' belt 'im,” screamed John- ny, while Billy Day, believing firmly that his turn would come next, wrapped his stubby legs around a sapling and shinned up, rubbing his watermelon-laden stomach woefully in- deed. In desperation Whitey, fleeing, seized a club, and belted Alexander once again. Alexander 331 With his last hope gone, the last thump still hurting his suffering ribs, the dreadful smell still in his nose, the dreadful smart still burning in his eyes, Alexander stopped, cast a wild look around him, pointed his nose sky- ward, delivered one parting wail of despair, and set off homeward, his tail frozen to his stomach, each frantic jump punctuated with a frantic howl. There was a riot of smell in the woods. There was a riot of howling that faded away swiftly, and then the boys lay down and rolled and yelled in an ecstasy, which was interrupted by Billy Day's falling out of his sapling in the effort to climb down. Finding that he wasn't hurt appreciably, the crowd slid back into convulsions of enjoy ment until Billy, sobered by his tumble, hold ing his stomach affectionately, said: “Gee, fellers, we better git; maybe it'll stick to our clothes!” Too much overcome to arise alone, Fatty was assisted into an upright position, and then the crowd departed with Billy still em- bracing his injured stomach, which, he as- serted, was more painful when it joggled. Now and then a wild laugh swelled up and set a hysterical example that was contagious, and at length Fatty, gasping, managed to speak. “Oh, no!” he said. “He ain't no fool, is he? D’you see him waller an’ waller an' scratch an' root, tryin' to wipe off the smell?” Peals of laughter greeted the words. The woods rang as the noisy troop set off home- ward under the low-swung, western sun, which threw slanting, stripy shadows through the trees. Alexander went homeward as the crow flies, went home to Macedon, because he knew no other place to go. He had no time to pick paths, he had no wish to loiter, he had no definite purpose. All he desired was to for- get, to forget himself, to forget everything, to be annihilated, blotted out. Accompanied by a tumult of howlings, enveloped in a halo of vivid smell, he tore wildly on, his voice merely suggesting the misery that he tried to express. His vocabulary was too limited by far, but striving nobly, he did his very best to tell the world the horror that was curdling his soul, and as he swept out into the big road, he added to his accompaniments a cloud of dust that almost hid him as he flew. Past Whitey Wilkins's, stirring up Nip, the Wil- kins' Irish terrier, into wild but hopeless chase, he sped. Chickens flew squawking away be- fore him, and if dogs do communicate orally, then the entire canine population of Macedon knew that some vastness of grief, some un- speakable woe unknown to all previous ex- perience, had overtaken one of them, as Alexander, shrieking, haled by the seven devils of despair, went home. Mr. Peters, in the barnyard, heard him coming, and turned in time to see him flash like a thunderbolt into the kitchen. There was a crash of crockery as he dived under the table, and Mrs. Peters, hardly recognizing the pup, lifted both floury hands appealingly, and ejaculated: “For the lan's sake!” Then nerved to act, and act quickly, by the atmosphere that Alexander had brought with him, she grasped the broom and said, “Scat, you!” accompanying the exclamation with a hearty thump. Alexander scatted. Out from the door he flashed like an arrow flitting from the bow of Robin Hood. Mr. Peters, stooping quickly, seized a chunk of stove wood, and as Alex- ander flew toward the spot that was sanc- tuary in his time of deepest trouble, heaved it at him and missed him by the fraction of an inch. As a flat stone drops edgeways into a still pool, Alexander dived head first into a hole under the barn. “Jeemses rivers,” exclaimed Mr. Peters, “what next? Blamed if I ever did see such a fool in all my life.” A smile spread over his face, widened into a great grin, and as a mournful wail came out from underneath the barn, he doubled up and laughed. Mrs. Peters came to the kitchen door. “Father,” she said, “ain't you ashamed of yourself, acting that way? You cut up like a big boy." Mr. Peters raised an appealing hand. “Don't, Elvira,” he said imploringly, “don't scold me. It's so durn funny, his tryin' to run away from hisself.” Another snuffling wail came from under the barn, and a lean nose appeared seeking fresh air. “ Jeemses rivers," said Mr. Peters, "that pup certainly is loaded down with the trou- bles that he's discovered. Look at ’im, El- vira; ain't he full o’grief!” Then the humor of it struck Mrs. Peters, and she sat down on the kitchen steps, and laughed until the tears streamed down her cheeks. F atty got home hungry, with a faint sugges- tion of the smell that Alexander had brought, clinging to his clothes. Stopping on the back porch long enough to dab his nose and cheeks with water, he added a polish from the roller towel and emptied the wash-basin upon the 332 Everybody's Magazine family cat, which departed, shaking its paws in absolute disgust. “Hello, mom!” he said. “Gee, I ain't nothin' but hungry; I c'd eat a keg o'nails.” "I expect you could," said Mrs. Peters, smiling. “I expect you could. Have you washed?” With one hand she elevated his chin. “Your face is clean,” she said, seeing traces of his recent ablutions. “Yep,” said Fatty. “Mom, we just had the dandiest time huntin'." Then he sniffed suspiciously. “Kind o' seems to me I smell somethin'!" "I guess you do,” said his mother. “What in the world you boys'll do to Sandy next is beyond me.” “We never done nothin' to him, mom," said Fatty, in earnest negation. “He didn't even stay with us long." Mr. Peters appeared in time to catch the last remark. "No," he said, "no. Of course he didn't. Jeemses rivers, I c'd hear him comin' half a mile!” Fatty laughed. “Say, pop,” he said, "seems to me that pup must have some grey- hound in him, cuz the last we seen o' him was a yeller streak. He wuzn't a-runnin'; he wuz a-flyin'. Gee, but he was a-burnin' up the dust.” Mrs. Peters smiled indulgently. “Come on,” she said; “supper's ready. Sit down while everything's nice.” Everything was nice. Great heaps of bread, thickly spread, faded away before Fatty's onslaught. The unskimmed milk, cool from the spring house, was rich and sat- isfying, and hot gingerbread and peach pre- serves brought on the peace that comes when healthy, boyish hunger is appeased. Fatty was happy. His eyes drooped. Sleep stole upon him until, at length, he arose and de- parted, staggering, to bed; soon silence set- tled down on Macedon and everything was peace. Under the barn, wide-eyed and sleepless, Alexander moaned. Perched high, the guin- eas smelt him and clucked little notes of flut- tering alarm. The moon came up, shedding a mellow light, and stilling the cicadas' drone. A stripy yellow moonbeam wandered into Fatty's room and rested on his face. He turned himself, flung one bare arm above his head, still wrapped in dreams, and took a happy, deep-drawn breath that ended in a sigh of great content. His long, dark lashes swept his round, tanned cheek, and his lips, smile-wreathed, expressed that beatitude of rest known only to happy, tired, and healthy boys. In the thrall of primal instinct, under the barn, the pup arose, turned thrice around, and settled down again, and then he, Alex- ander, worn out, himself found sleep and followed Fatty into the land of dreamless peace. THE SPOT THAT WAS SANCTUARY IN HIS TIME OF DEEPEST TROUBLE. The Saving Sense By JOHNSON MORTON Illustrations by J. A. Williams A N aggressive taste for responsi- became, so to speak, an attending as A bility, one of Laura Barnard's well as consulting physician of the salient characteristics, had entailed soul, and when her guiding presence upon her a career of activity and, was required at a scene of action, from the point of view of her world she cheerfully hurried thither. In a at large, of unselfishness. single season she had snatched a “She's really had no life of her brother-in-law from the jaws of nerv- own." "She immolates herself on the ous prostration, guided a widowed sister's family altar.” “It's beautiful, of course, rudderless bark into the harbor of a sec- but isn't it rather foolish?” “Oh, these ond marriage, and consigned to the safe penalties of devotion!” limbo of an obscure clerkship an incom- Her acquaintances, in varying degrees petent nephew who dreamed wild dreams of imagination, were fond of observations of an operatic career. of this sort. It was only the superfine So on the very day of her return from comprehension of an intimate or two that was this last campaign, when she was trying not to able to put a finger on the fact that the success lose her high spirits in the sordid task of oil- attending her well-directed efforts in the field ing the creaking machinery of her neglected of family service brought an amply compen household, she was in no wise surprised at sating glow to the heart of Miss Barnard the sudden descent of her eldest brother bent herself. Not that she ever touched compla- on the usual mission. cency; a sense of humor, unwonted yoke John Barnard was, perhaps, the most de- mate to her dominant quality, held her back tached member of the family. His wife, from that pitfall of the serious, and had, no dead for many years, had been a person of doubt, been largely instrumental in allowing firmer fiber than most of the Barnard mates, her at thirty-five the possession of a scarcely and had completely dominated her husband. impaired youth. A quiet, scholarly man, he lived, in accord- The youngest of a large and prosperous ance with her last wishes, in picturesque and family, whose other members shared dis- retired idleness on a large estate on the Hud- positions and tastes singularly alike and as son that she had bequeathed to him, varying pointedly variant from her own, she had, after his existence by occasional winters in Europe the deaths of her parents and the matrimonial and the East; his constant companion his flittings of her brother and sisters, become, by only child, Emily. And it was in regard to the division of the estate, possessor of an this daughter that he had come to seek his income adequate for need and desire, and sister's advice. mistress of the great family house in the That warm June afternoon he sat on the suburbs. Here, always to her satisfaction veranda in a straight-backed chair, holding a and often to her amusement, she found her- teacup in his slender, wrinkled hand. Op- self in the position, as she described it, of posite him, Laura, inwardly digesting the “Adviser Extraordinary to Hesitating Bar- purport of his visit, partially explained at the nards." To her came, from time to time, at luncheon-table, was piecing out her knowledge moments of doubt, various members of the by rapid and direct questions fired from be- family, pilgrims in quest of sympathy, at- hind the rampart of her silver urn. tention, and counsel, which they received in “And who is this Wallace Blair?”. ample measure. As the years went on she Mr. Barnard put down his cup to touch his 333 334 Everybody's Magazine twisted white mustache with his napkin, “But you don't know Emmy, Laura ! before he answered. You've seen her only three or four times in her “My dear Laura, I really don't know! At life, and really not since she was a child. least,” he went on, "he comes of no family She's different from what you imagine.” that I seem to have heard of. We met him But Laura had interrupted the sentence in Florence last winter at the house of an again with a favorite expression. English lady, a most agreeable woman, but “Nonsense,” she cried gaily; "you're all sometimes, I regret to say, none too abstemi- alike! I've had enough experience in this ous in the matter of friends. Emmy seemed family to know. From what you've told me to take a fancy to him at once. He is not at luncheon, and from what I've been able to bad looking, I must confess, in a certain extract from you this afternoon, I can evolve rather ordinary way, and he has a character- a more or less clear idea. I'll help you, istic Western-candor, I may describe it, that Johnny; you did right to come to me!” She is attractive to some minds.” spoke with decision. “Yes; I'll go back with “Does he seem to care for Emmy?”. you to-morrow. It's lucky that my trunks John Barnard coughed and hesitated. aren't all unpacked yet!” “Yes and no, Laura; but I'm free to say that I have not regarded his attitude with It was not until they were driving along much scrutiny; I have been altogether taken the curving miles of hillside that rolled above up with the deplorable fact that Emmy seems the great river to “Stonecrest," and Mr. Bar- to care, very pointedly, for him.” nard had leaned over the front seat to ply his “How about Georgy Trowbridge, John? coachman with questions as to the events of I've always supposed that Emmy'd marry his absence, that Laura found a first chance that child when he grew up!” and inclination for that arrangement of forces "That was just a boy-and-girl affair, I'm which an approach to a new scene and a new afraid, my dear, though George is twenty- opportunity makes essential even to the most three; just a passing fancy. He's at the house innocent of us. This time the process was as usual; but, come to think of it, in no very simple and readily concluded. The situa- good spirits. Emmy pays but the slightest tion held no complexity; it demanded no attention to him. This Blair absorbs her finesse. It concerned just a little girl, a utterly!” sweet, undeveloped child, lovesick at the Laura smiled. “Well, tell me just what most. There would be need of a word here, you want me to do.” a touch there; some control which she stood Her brother turned to her sharply. e sharply. ready to give; advice, probably; a compen- “Do?” he asked. “Why, I want you to sating pleasure or two, perhaps, and the thing stop it! Matters have come to a pretty pass was done! As for the man, there was no when a daughter of mine, delicately reared, need to think of him at all. She proposed to carefully educated, is ready to throw herself work along the line of least resistance. Her at the head of an aggressive, self-assertive, imagination exhausted the present com- wild Western bore of a man, who contradicts fortably and then left it to soar vaguely on- me at every turn, and doesn't let any one hold ward into a future golden with opportunity. an opinion but himself; a great, common, Just then the carriage turned in at the drive- middle-aged— ” way, and through the trees Laura caught “Oh, he's middle-aged, is he?” Laura's sight of a lad in white flannels hurrying across laugh broke in. “I'm afraid that compli- the lawn. Even at that distance his gait be- cates our situation somewhat. But it's not tokened irritation. At the sound of wheels hopeless,” she added decisively, as she came he looked up, without stopping, and lifted his toward her brother and put a protecting hand hat solemnly. The sight of his yellow head on his shoulder. “Don't worry, at any rate. brought a quick recognition to Laura. She I'll go back with you and do the best I can. touched her brother's arm. I'm afraid that Emmy sees too few men; “Why, John!" she cried, “that was Georgy leads too quiet a life. We must change all Trowbridge! Why on earth didn't he come that and make things a little livelier for her. to speak to me?" I can imagine what the trouble is; I know Mr. Barnard rested his eyes for an ap- young girls!” prehensive instant on the coachman's gray Mr. Barnard was looking at her curious- back. “Yes, that was George,” he admitted. ly. PIECING OUT HER KNOWLEDGE BY QUESTIONS FIRED FROM BEHIND HER SILVER URN. “I dare say he didn't make out who you elation, "we have all the characters on the were.” Then he turned his eyes on his stage at the going up of the curtain!” Then, sister, and they twinkled with meaning as he as her foot touched the ground, she felt that added, in a lower voice: she stepped at once into her own self-chosen “His mood, my dear Laura, would seem to rôle of leading lady. signify that Emmy is not alone!” Mr. Barnard was right. Emmy herself II had come down the steps to meet them, a slender, dignified girl with a manner that her Emmy insisted on taking her to her room aunt, watching her narrowly, found unac- and, with an arm affectionately at her waist, countably familiar. At her side stood a tall laughed off her protestations. “Nonsense!” man with laughing eyes, and Laura knew that she cried, and Laura turned suddenly at the it was Wallace Blair's firm hand that she word. “Of course you're tired. Such a long took as she sprang from the carriage. journey with poor dear papa talking all the “Ah!" she thought with a quick sense of way!” 335 336 Everybody's Magazine She closed the door behind them and began again. “This is the window that you'd better keep open at night; and do be careful that the screen is down; we are devoured by mos- people or so. To-morrow we go off into the country for an all-day jaunt. You ride, I hope? Afterward there's a dinner in the neighborhood that I trust won't bore you. I had to accept for you. On Thursday some "I SUPPOSE YOU MEN ARE USED TO BEING HEROES IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER." quitoes! That closet by the fireplace will be more people are coming and I'm planning a the best for your gowns, and I'll send a maid sort of fancy-dress party for the end of the to unpack for you, as soon as your trunks week, on Mr. Blair's last night, perhaps. I come. We dine at eight; there'll be a dozen think I can fit you with a costume." She The Saving Sense 337 looked at Laura, in a sort of whimsical criti- cism, for a moment. “Yes, I'm sure I can! Do you know, I think you're a dear; and there's something about you that makes me feel that I've known you all my life!” Laura was not proof against the touch of the girl's soft cheek on her own. She kissed her and smiled as she answered: "It's blood that tells, I suppose, and curi- ously enough, Emmy dear, I've quite the same feeling about you.” Then, as she took off her hat at the mirror, while the other watched her from the window-seat, she said casually: “By the way, tell me about Mr. Blair.” The girl's look seemed to darken, and for an instant she hesitated, but she answered easily enough: “Why, there's nothing to tell, Aunt Laura. He's a great friend of mine that we met a year ago in Europe.” Then, with a touch of roguery, she ran to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You are asking about him because he made an impression on you! He always does on a certain kind of person.” She laughed gaily. “Perhaps it's well he did, for he liked you awfully." "Liked me!” Laura turned to put down her hat. “What nonsense! How can you tell? He's hardly spoken to me!” “Oh, I know by a certain look in his eyes!” This time it was Laura who laughed; the same rippling notes of merriment that the other had used. She shrugged her shoulders. "How long does it take to know his eyes?" she flashed back. · Emmy made no reply. She was looking at her aunt with a sudden intentness and chose rather to send a question of her own. “It's the strangest thing, Aunt Laura; but did you notice how very much your laugh sounded like mine?” shadowy, half-comprehended, vaguely famil- iar impressions of Emmy crystallized all at once into tangible form. The men. stood lingering for a moment, as Mr. Barnard, with a fussy finger on the shoulder of each, suggested the smoking-room. Suddenly Emmy's voice rose with its brusque young authority. “Nonsense, papa dear!” She turned to the rest. “You shan't be banished. I'm sure nobody will mind and I think it will be great fun if you stay and smoke here." “Why, my child,” protested her father, “that will never do! What will Aunt Laura think us? Barbarians, no doubt!” But Emmy smiled and had her way; already the cigars had been brought in and Laura, nod- ding a far-away assent, was back in the past with a recollection of her own: a similar scene, a similar result, only it was a younger Laura who had spoken, and another father who had been shocked. She chose not to face her revelation till late that night. Then, ready for bed, she leaned her elbows on the dressing-table and, staring into the mirror, laughed aloud! “Was there ever a droller situation?" she thought. "I bargained for a comedy of manners, at the very least, and now I believe that I have a farce on my hands!” She stepped aside, mentally, to regard her- self. The picture that she saw was as clear as the physical reflection smiling at her from the glass. She straightened her lips to seri- ousness. “You idiot,” she cried, "you delicious idiot; you've always had your own way, you may as well confess it, but now there's a chance that you've met your match! That little girl, with a will of her own, undoubtedly has a way of her own, too!” she caught sight in the mirror of the reflection of her deepening frown. It fled away at the return of her smile. Yet, in the instant, even that had recalled its coun- terpart: a hint of a line on Emmy's smooth young forehead! “The likeness is really uncanny!” she cried. “It's stronger than a resemblance; it's almost identity. Laura Barnard, I believe you've got to recognize the fact that your niece is just a younger you! Was ever a woman forced before to look straight into the face of her own girlhood?” She drew in her breath sharply and shook her head. “Did I call this a farce? I'm not sure that it may not turn out a tragedy, for I shiver, though I Fortunate it was for Laura's mental com- posure that Wallace Blair did not appear at dinner, for Emmy herself proved quite enough to absorb all the thought and attention that the elder woman could detach from the de- mands of the occasion. As she watched the girl sitting at the head of her table, self- poised, alert, radiant, she recalled, one by one, the details of the picture that she had drawn so carefully only a few hours before; a mistake in every line! At the door of the drawing-room the 338 Everybody's Magazine laugh. Well, I'm not here to do either of while her hand tingled from the vigor of his these things; I'll face the situation frankly. clasp. I've come to help John as I promised, and to “If only I'd known that you and I had the keep that precious child from making a goose same good habit, Miss Barnard,” he went on, of herself. I can do it, too. Of course, she “I shouldn't have taken my morning ride has no chance with me.” alone!” His air of proprietorship at once Laura sat long in the silence of her mood, amused and annoyed Laura. She struggled and as she turned out the lights, she found against it. that, like a good general, she had marshaled “I'm not so sure of that, Mr. Blair," she well her forces against the other's. Knowledge smiled. “Virtues, if you call getting up faced Ignorance; Wisdom squared itself in early one of them, can't always be counted on, front of Inexperience; Fact opposed Fancy. you know. I'm a rather sporadic sort of Her battle-line seemed so invincible that she person, I'm afraid, especially when I find went to bed in a state of tired satisfaction. I'm expected to live up to a reputation.” But with the darkness came, instead of Blair looked at her quizzically for an in- sleep, a deeper contemplation, and, as she lay stant. Then he laughed and shook his head wide awake far into the night, she was acutely as if to dismiss the subject altogether. conscious that her mind had somehow left “I see you're inclined to make game of the consideration of Emmy far behind and, me," he said, “so let's talk of something else. instead, was busy with thoughts of Wallace Are you disposed, by the way, to give me a Blair. cup of coffee? Don't hesitate ”—he looked at her whimsically; “I'm not very used to people III who weigh their words. But I'll give you a chance to think it over; so please wait a • WALLACE BLAIR himself was the first moment until I take Conrad to the stable.” person that Laura saw in the morning. She He sprang easily to his horse's back and was had wakened early as was her energetic gone. habit, dressed quickly, and gone out-of-doors, When he returned, he found that Laura her destination the garden behind its vine- had placed herself at a small round table hung walls that she had noticed the day be- drawn into the shadow of the vines. She fore. But once on the veranda as she lifted pointed to a chair opposite her own. her eyes to the broad panorama of the valley, “I have decided that you are to sit there"- she had stopped breathlessly. Lawns of she spoke with much graciousness—"and very silken green, now elm-shaded, now vivid in soon you shall have some strawberries, three the sunlight, rolled to the very brink of the dropped eggs, and much toast. I have taken dipping bank below which lay the river, giv- Mary into my confidence; she knows your ing back the sky in deeper blue. Beyond the tastes, I find. Meanwhile, to put you at your farther shore rose hills with many a hamlet ease, I am inclined to be generous and con- sparkling on their slopes, and over them fess to sharing one good habit with you. I stood dusky forms of guarding mountains, mean that of not breakfasting in bed, like their heads hidden among the fleecy morning some others who shall be nameless." An clouds. So absorbed was Laura that she did instant later she wished that she had not not hear the sound of hoofs on the driveway, spoken, for as Blair turned to take the dish of and she turned suddenly as Blair reined in strawberries from Mary's tray, he laughed his horse at the steps. again. His eyes flashed wilfully. “Good morning, Miss Barnard,” he called “That's more like it, Miss Barnard,” he to her gaily. Then he sprang from his saddle, cried. “Now, I really believe that you very lightly, it seemed to Laura, as she watched would have gone riding with me if I had him, for so heavy a man. As he came up the asked you!” steps he took off his hat. His thick hair, “Odious, ill-bred person!” thought Laura, touched with gray, lay in damp curls on his and she even refused the strawberries that he forehead, and his eyes swept over her boldly offered her, though he put some on her plate and admiringly from head to foot. Laura despite her protest, and she ate them later. was acutely conscious of this, and she warmed "I shall not sit here a jot longer than is neces- to a satisfaction that her morning-gown was sary." But after breakfast, Blair lifted the becoming in the very instant that she de- little table bodily, and carried it, dishes and plored the color that sought her cheek. Mean- all, into the house. Then, after he had The Saving Sense 339 arranged cushions about her with uncommon hostess. The Winstons came so late last deftness, he drew her chair into the breeze night that they thought they'd be too tired to and, lying at length in another, proceeded to go with us to-day, so she begs that you will light a cigar and to talk. An hour later, count her and Rivers out as well. That interested despite her contrary intention, reduces us to four, doesn't it?” Then straight- Laura found herself in possession of most of way he took possession of the girl's basket the facts of his varied life: a motherless, and slipped it over his arm. neglected childhood, an errant youth spent “You'll have to excuse me, now, Miss on the Western plains; then the hot, adven- Barnard !” he cried. “I always hold this turous mining days that had brought him thing for Miss Emmy when she cuts flowers, fortune. His candor, always contagious, was I wouldn't miss doing it for worlds. It's one at once appalling and delightful. of my proud prerogatives." “Here am I”-suddenly he sat bolt upright His voice, boyishly happy, brought such an and his eyes looked straight into Laura's accession of meaning to his words that Laura “forty-three years old. I weigh a hundred looked up to see Emmy's color deepen, and and ninety-five pounds. I'm as hard as her hand cling for an instant to the sleeve of nails. There isn't anything that I haven't Blair's coat as he stood there. The girl may done that a half-way decent chap may do, have felt, perhaps, a hint of the other's and yet I've come through it all as sound as a scrutiny, for she came forward quickly and nut. I don't believe that I've even lost what kissed her. you Easterners call your “ideals.' I've got “Good morning, Aunt Laura; I hope that back of me one of the biggest mining prop- you slept well.” Then she caught playfully erties in the country. Honestly, Miss Bar- at her hand as if to draw her from her chair. nard, I can't tell you what I'm worth; it's “Come with us,” she begged; "it's quite such a lot that I don't know and I don't much worth while to see Mr. Blair reverse the usual care. I have a pretty fair time in my way. process and make work of play!” I've picked up a good deal of what may pass Laura, however, declined and, instead, for knowledge as I've knocked about the passed a long hour with her brother who, in world, and, though you wouldn't think it, I'm white ducks and under a green-lined umbrella, no end of a reader. But there are things I've escorted her on a tour of the grounds. His never had that I can't seem to get. Somehow ostensible purpose, the discussion of some new I've missed my chance of growing up with methods of tree-planting, could not, however, the kind of men that I like to be with now; conceal his eagerness to learn her impression you can never be taken in among them unless of what he referred to as the “situation.” as you may say, you're 'caught young'! Why, Laura, I am afraid, proved an unsatisfactory that brother of yours, for instance, Miss companion. She was preoccupied and silent. Barnard, regards me as quite uncivilized. Indeed, her brother, emboldened by the non- Funny, too, for I can see his good points, fast committal nature of her answers, was even enough! By Jove, it makes me hot to think inclined to accuse her of a change of base. I can't have this thing-intangible as it may “Really, Laura, if I didn't know you be--and when I see that yellow-haired cub better, I could believe that you'd fallen under that they call Georgy Trowbridge throwing the spell of that fellow yourself, as well as away like peanut shells the chances that I'd Emmy!” Then he looked at her quizzically. give good years out of my life to have had “Do you know," he added, “that you and she a show at, why, I could shake him in my are uncommonly alike? Don't you notice teeth, ungrateful little rat that he is!” it? I feel it all the more strongly now that I So Emmy found them deep in converse as see you together." she came through the door. She had a To Laura, this putting into words the basket on her arm and shears in her gloved impression that had for hours engrossed her hand. She peered at them from under a own thoughts brought a sudden realization wide-brimmed shade hat, and Laura fancied of a psychological probability. Was it not that she could detect a little surprise in the altogether natural that she should like Wallace glance. Blair sprang to his feet. Blair, like him almost in spite of herself, “Why, how the morning has gone! Here's since his attraction for Emmy was so marked, the little gardener already.” He fumbled and she and Emmy were so palpably of the in his pocket as he met her. “I've a note . same type? Carried a step further the de- for you somewhere,” he said, “from my duction halted abruptly at a conclusion that 340 Everybody's Magazine left her breathless and with beating heart. supposed—she was even inclined to push her Granted the premises, would it not then be show of disapproval to a degree that, had it equally natural that she herself, being what not been pitiful, would have proved amusing she was, should produce some effect on Wal to the older woman; and toward Blair she lace Blair? Instinctively she recognized that had developed an attitude in which reproach this might be true, and for one absorbed and indifference mingled fitfully. George moment she yielded herself unreservedly to Trowbridge's behavior was perhaps the most the conviction, and was glad! Yet, against trying of all, because, based on little reality, any manifestation of this feeling she brought as Laura had now come to feel sure, it was to bear all the forces of her training and ex- loudly complacent. How the young cocker- perience. Indeed, during the long miles on el exulted over Blair in glance and move- horseback to the distant Country Club where ment; how he crowed whenever Emmy hap- they went for luncheon, she contrived that pened to turn even so much as a hand in his George Trowbridge should ride constantly direction! Indeed, Mr. Barnard himself beside her; but her pleasure did not consist in was the only one whose mind and conduct any attention to the boy's ingenuous praises seemed normal. He had accepted the atmos- of Emmy's beauty and Emmy's charms. phere of unrest about him, which it seemed to These passed her by as she strained her eyes, Laura must affect even the most transitory at each turn of the way, for a sight of a straight, guest of the week, as a necessary element in broad-backed figure that rode in front, and the eliminating process for which he had called held his horse close by Emmy's side. upon his sister. He was disposed to waylay She longed to know just what he was say- her in corners and to compliment her, with a ing, to hear the tones of his voice, to see again sly playfulness, on her success. those clear gray eyes of his under their dark “Yes, yes, you're coming out all right,” he brows as they had looked into hers when he had said. “I can see that Emmy's getting spoke of himself. In spite of his success, he tired of the man already. She scarcely spoke was not altogether happy. He had told her to him this afternoon.” Then, with a so. He had not got just what he wanted. chuckle of delight, “You kept him with you, Would Emmy satisfy him, she wondered! clever woman! Do you know, I didn't think you had that sort of thing in you! I rather like it, too. Well, he's going off in the morn- ing and let us hope he won't come back.” But Laura's answering smile seemed rather As the night of the costume party drew weary, as her brother left her at her door. near, Laura was conscious that she awaited it It was the night of the party and they had with a sort of superstitious impatience as come up-stairs together to get ready for destined to bring an end, if not a solution, of dinner. the condition of excitement and uncertainty in the intervals of dressing, Laura's brain that had seemed for days to hang about every was busy. The very act of putting on the member of the household. She acknowledged gown of shimmering brocade, heavy with lace, openly to herself that her interest in Wallace that had once been worn by Emmy's grand- Blair, whetted by her self-imposed restraint, mother, gave fresh impression to the sensa- had grown steadily. She was equally sure tion that she was approaching the climax of that his interest in her had strengthened under a drama in which it was necessary to dress the same stimulus. She recognized it in a properly her part. This thought called back hundred ways; from the fact, for instance, again all the whimsical fancies that had come that he sought her presence constantly in a to her on the night of her arrival. Now, as new and unwonted humility, so out of char- she reviewed them, she was amazed to find the acter that it charmed her by its novelty all change that had come upon herself; to realize the more because she did not believe, nor that the necessity for achieving her own hap- want to believe, in it. She was pleased, too, piness had absorbed every other considera- by his attempts, as she grew more diffi- tion. Then, without warning, her mind cult, to follow the windings of her feminine seized the truth, and she recognized suddenly, moods with that direct, unbending, masculine clearly, irrevocably, and for the first time mind of his. As for Emmy, her manner without the complications of surrounding toward her aunt had hardened perceptibly. emotions, the nature of her feeling toward Unskilled in finesse-more so than Laura had Wallace Blair. She knew that it was love! IV The Saving Sense 341 The sun blazed where but a moment before please you?" she laughed from the waves of had been darkness. Her heart glowed in the her spreading skirts. Emmy turned; in the warmth of it, and its brightness lit up every fading light, her glance evaded Laura's eyes; corner of her soul. Her very body seemed to her smile fluttered but a moment. stir to a new pulse of life. “Really, Aunt Laura, you're very nice, “Stretch forth your hand and take your indeed!” Her voice was cool and her air own,” counseled her heart. “It is your right, preoccupied. In her hand she held a long your woman's right.” But into the silence of wax taper. She lighted it as she spoke. this paradise, where she lingered exultant “You see,” she went on as if in answer to with shining eyes, with flaming cheeks and an unasked question, “they've been stupid breast that rose and fell as if to the rhythm of enough to forget these lanterns that I wanted a song, broke at length the voice of reason. particularly to be seen through the windows “You are a woman,” it whispered, “and so while we are at dinner. Every one is busy, you may give, but you must not take until and there's only a moment before the people what you want is offered you.” Thus, come. I thought I'd see to lighting them through the triumphant symphony of her myself, but I don't believe I can reach them.” avowal rolled the first faint chord of reserva Laura gathered her skirts about her, and tion, and in her mind there formulated itself stepped to the low wall. gradually an idea, which later on became a “Nonsense,” she cried, “of course you purpose. As she closed her door and stood can! I'll help you!” She seized a lantern there for a wavering instant, she reached a and pulled it toward her. Emmy was al- decision that, though it in no way bound ready on the wall at her side. her happiness, yet held it anchored, as it were, “Touch each candle as I hold it out! There, to earth. A certain primitive instinct awoke like that! You'll find it much easier than within her. She would say no more, plan no taking down the whole string.” more, act no more. This was man's busi- In this way the lantern was lighted; a ness; let the women take their chance in the second, then a third; but the fourth proved to choosing! She brushed aside as carelessly be a trifle out of reach. Laura stood on tip- the thought of Emmy as of herself. They toe. At last she held it down, and Emmy's were women both of them, and they must taper touched the candle. Suddenly the in- await some sign from Wallace Blair; on what secure fastening yielded to the strain. The he should do hung the result. Yet she smiled flame of the shaken candle caught the paper confidently, as she passed down the stair, the sides and instantly the blazing lantern had gleaming silver of her robes trailing behind fallen on Laura's skirts. Rivers of fire seemed to run over the lace. She jumped The hall was empty. Through a half from the wall. "Emmy sprang after her, red drawn curtain she could see the servants busy sparks glowing on her own gown. Laura's with the dinner-table. She turned to the hands pushed her away. Neither of them glass doors that opened on the western terrace. spoke, but into the silence broke the sound of Outside it was not quite dark, for a linger some one running. A loud call came from ing sunset hung rosily through the twilight. the lawn: a man's voice shouting hoarsely: Strings of Japanese lanterns, as yet unlighted, “Stand still, I tell you, stand still!” followed the line of the wall and crossed the Then a hurrying rush, a leap over the wall, spaces of the lawns beyond, from tree to tree. and Wallace Blair, breathless, panting, was at As she opened the door Laura stopped sud- Laura's side. He flung his coat about her, denly. At the corner of the terrace stood a he tore at her smoldering skirts. She felt figure in white. It was Emmy. The quaint herself seized strongly, drawn close within his fashion of the gown she wore and her pow- arms and held there. She yielded unhesitat- dered hair lent to the girl a curious look of ingly, her face against his shoulder. His maturity that seemed to the other, staring voice was at her ear. fixedly at her, to accentuate with startling “My darling, my darling!” The vibrant distinctness their strange community of passion of his whisper thrilled her. “Thank resemblance. Yet she recovered herself in- God, I came in time!” His kisses covered stantly, and came forward smiling and with her neck, her cheek; and at their touch her outstretched hands. At Emmy's feet she soul awoke to triumph. Joyously she turned bent low in an exaggerated courtesy. “Pray, to meet his lips with her own and, smiling, madam, and how may your grandmother opened her eyes. her. 342 Everybody's Magazine Then, in the involuntary loosening of his “Go, go,” she whispered. “Don't stay grasp, in the hint of wide astonishment that with me another instant.” She pushed him she could not fail to catch in the gaze that gently in the girl's direction. “Go to Emmy bent upon her for an instant, and then left at once!” Then she turned and walked slow- her abruptly to rest on the shadowy figure of ly to the house. the girl standing, with averted head, proudly The closing of the door behind her had all aloof, by the wall beyond, Laura, with a sud- the effect of the fall of a curtain. It was over den blinding pain, through which yet worked now, this drama of her fancy; not farce, not a whimsical sense of a prophecy fulfilled, comedy, not tragedy, but a mingling of all realized the truth, cruel, inexorable, yet a three, like life itself! solution as definite as any her fancy had imagined. Wallace Blair, who stood now within her own room her mood changed. abashed and undeceived, had acted indeed; She Aushed warmly with a fresher, more but, in the tension of the moment of dan- vital remembrance. Wallace Blair's arms ger, their strange resemblance to each other were again about her; his face touched hers; heightened in the falling darkness by the his words caressed at her ear. That moment gowns they wore, he had mistaken her for had been her own; in balance with it every- Emmy! She disregarded the touch that would thing else rose valueless. It could never be restrain her like an apology, and detached her- taken from her. Hers the infinite dream, self quickly from Blair's arms. She laughed, though Emmy's the reality! as she busied herself with the shreds of black- "I might have taken that as well,” she ened lace that hung to her skirts. mused like the woman she was, “but I am “Now I know how it feels to have my life glad that I did not try!” Her stanch sense saved!” She looked up at him archly. of justice asserted itself. “He will love her, “Though I suppose you men are used to being he will be tender to her, yet he will rule her. heroes in one way or another. Well, I thank She needs just that kind of a man. I wish you!” She held out her hand. "Odd, that 1-" Then she checked herself and isn't it, that there should be but the one smiled happily, as with the unfinished thought phrase for everything? I couldn't say less if she became conscious of a curious appro- you had picked up my pocket handerchief! priation of some part of Emmy's happiness, No, don't explain ”—her seriousness flashed as if it belonged by right to her own lost quickly through her banter as Blair started to youth. speak —“because-oh, won't you see?—why, Then, suddenly, she Aung herself on her because you can't!” She touched his arm bed, in a passion of weeping; for the privilege with a sort of tenderness, her impulse big with of comprehension brings with it an inevitable pity. Her eyes met his squarely and in the penalty of pain, and to those whose smiles look was, perhaps, a clearer revelation than are readiest is given an especial heritage of she knew, for the man's eyelids fell before it. tears. The Seamy Side of the Curtain By ELMER B. HARRIS THERE is a tradition among older actors but was asked to "show up" for rehearsal I that the tricks of the trade should not at ten o'clock. The first act of “Sapho" be revealed to the public. In violating this had mushed together like a tray of caramels convention I have no desire to kill the goose in hot weather. At the theatre a long serpent that lays the golden eggs. I would merely of women waited patiently, its head in the illuminate the life behind the scenes, which, box-office. The company and "supers," in from the front, swims in hazy romanticism overcoats, boas, and muffs, were assembled on and often suffers from being misunderstood. an empty stage, and the work of toning up The world on the seamy side of the curtain is began. neither a better nor a worse world than the To an amateur of the gowns and glances of one on the picture side. The bond of human- a first night, an empty stage is as forlorn as a ity between the two is becoming stronger and last year's bird-nest. Scenery was mattressed stronger as time goes on, and all that strength- against brick walls. In the auditorium a ens it may be regarded as bringing the thea- lone white-haired woman woke to music with tre into closer sympathy with the needs of a wand of turkey feathers the crystal pendants the public that it entertains. of a chandelier. Rainbow motes eddied in a After the earthquake in San Francisco, single shaft of sunlight that penetrated the when the theatres were all burned down or gloom and revealed the tarnished furnishings closed, I availed myself of Olga Nethersole's of a box with five gilt chairs. The musicians' invitation to write her a play. In order that easels yawned with upturned eyes, and a crew she might be able to offer suggestions as the of ragged stage-hands grumbled at the inun- writing progressed, she offered me a small dation of "props.” part in her company. I accepted, and joined Grumbled also, though not so audibly, the Nethersole forces in Butte, a place the members of the cast, to whom the lines known among mining men as a large body of were stale and meaningless. A pale-faced, ready money entirely surrounded by whisky. weary band were they, after their tour of I was given no chance to enjoy the scenery, twenty weeks. The winter day, the bleak 343 344 Everybody's Magazine inhospitality of the barren stage with an act had religiously carried a bouquet of golf- drop bellying like a sail, made sufficiently sticks 26,000 miles—and used them once. difficult the simulation of the brilliant Paris As I entered he was sitting at the better ian carnival with which the play opens. of the two mirrors, rubbing cold-cream Lacking the customary hypodermic of foot into his face with crusty persistence. His lights and applause, the work was stagy, white gloves were tied on the steam-pipe to inevitably so—and that's where the shoe dry. I had met him before and he watched pinched. The “extras” were stupid, ne- my self-abasement to a footman with merci- cessitating an endless repetition of the same ful amiability. It was a moment for confi- lines and business," into which it was never- dences and commiseration. The account he theless incumbent upon the principals to put gave of the company, emphasizing the do- each time the maximum of feeling and fire, mesticity of the married folk and the naiveté for this was no mere “word rehearsal.” Her of the juveniles, surprised and amused me, private car and trained chef saved Madame and prepared me for things that followed. Nethersole the minor vicissitudes of travel, My costume fitted me like a strait-jacket. and she was, on the whole, merciful to her It was a blue livery trimmed with red, sup- limping followers. I can see her now, in a plemented by white stockings peeled over smart drab velvet coat and two-cornered, shockingly thin calves abnormally sensitive mink-fur hat, a little Napoleon as she paced to drafts—and breezy remarks-pumps, that dingy stage, her eyes ablaze, her clenched and powdered hair. A paper dickey con- hand quivering like a lance, hurling orders cealed my negligee shirt, and the ready-made into those fagged-out, stolid faces. white tie was reminiscent of noonday wed- "Life, good people! More life! Put ding processions on the Champs-Élysées. blood into it! The public won't pay two dol- Keeping the stockings up was a task the im- lars to see this piece unless you make it real!” portance of which I recognized esthetically I did not participate in the matinée, but but which I had not then mastered technical- watched it from the front, reporting for final ly. Unless I walked as if on eggs, they instructions at 7.30. Madame's dressing wrinkled. This mention of stockings is not room, which was barely large enough to frivolous. The actor who neglects his cos- contain her wardrobe, had been extended tume gets a note from the “Missus." by means of pieces of scenery. In this “Overture and beginners!" announced the annex, at the foot of the mirror framed in red, call-boy. blue, amber, and white lamps, to match I hurried on stage, but long before the cur- the lighting of the various acts, were de- tain rose the state of my nerves was such that ployed her silver paint and powder service, a chair or anything of that category looked manicure set, combs and brushes, and a like the Promised Land. To err was hu- jewel box emitting sparks of prismatic splen- man, to sit down-divine! Accordingly I dor. Over the mirror was a bit of brilliant perched on a sofa under a palm the leaves embroidery from Mexico; beside it a tall vase of which budded from screw-eyes. of American Beauties. On a small side table “Come off the rented furniture!” barked were the remnants of a broiled squab chicken, a little rat-terrier of a man dressed in a Chi- a grapefruit salad, and some champagne in a nese blouse and pigtail, as he padded by. silver goblet, for on matinée days Madame I obeyed grimly. remains in the theatre from twelve till twelve “Who's that?" I inquired of Mr. Golf- and dines in her dressing-room between per- sticks. formances. At that moment she was in the “The tenth assistant stage-manager,” re- hands of her hair-dresser. Her secretary- plied Golf-sticks, grinning. “Thirty per. companion, a clear-headed, unemotional Eng- Why didn't you knock his block off?”. lishwoman with a white Whistler lock like a "Places, please!" commanded the China- plume in her black hair, was busy beside her. man, returning from Madame's door on the A folio of bills lay between them. I have vivid memories of the discomforts The overture ended in a burst of hysterics of my own dressing-room in the basement and the curtain rose on the carnival. Cos- There were two freckled mirrors, two kinds tumed and framed in scenery, the rehearsal of cold water, and trunks for chairs. The was metamorphosed. The principals, bored writing on the wall was not Biblical. Into in the morning, were now on the qui vive, this I was crowded with a lean youth who while the “supers," who had shown consid- run. The Seamy Side of the Curtain 345 erable flippancy, as if acting were but a lark, “Aha,” said the audience. “Now!” There now evinced a tendency to congeal. Among was a rustle of expectancy. them the secretary-companion, arrayed in a At the sound of the bell the call-boy poked Watteau costume and wig, just descended, his head through the door. The lights were as it were, from one of the tapestries, moved dim and he passed as the concierge. Fanny, with stately stride, tuning her voice to the who had been talking to her business manager general hubbub and addressing them thus: and retouching her make-up while the change “Don't stand there like a cigar - sign! was made, handed the rabbit's-foot back to Dance! Make a noise like an actress! Wa- her maid, threw Jean's goatskin about her, la-wa-la-wa-la-wa-la! Whoop-la! Oh, you and entered. goat! Look as though you enjoyed it!” “Fanny Le Grand!” I circulated with my tray of pink cotton The concierge returned to bed. In reality ice-cream and gilded wooden goblets, the he returned to the stage entrance, rolled a damaged side of which I was instructed to cigarette, and wanted to bet a week's salary keep "up stage.” Next I carried on a that the “White Sox” could trim any picked papier-mâché brazier with incense for Ma- nine in the United States. Some one said he dame's rendition of Fanny's incantation to was drunk. love. That was the nearest I got to the Meanwhile, the people in front" held their footlights. For a detached moment I had breath as Jean threw Fanny across his bosom ventured over the firing-line and was con- and mounted the staircase-not to “ce nid scious of thousands of eyes. Between whiles ouaté, ca pitonné, où les boiseries se cachaient I paraded in front of the supper-tables where sous des satins tendres”-heavens, no!-but artificial tarts, rubber fruit, and bottles from into the maze of "drops," "sand weights," which even the ghost of champagne had de and “borders" that form the overhead equip- parted, did duty as a repast. ment of the stage. If any one smiled at this At one exit Madame's brother, the mana- procedure, it was not on our side of the cur- gerial headlight of the American tour, mettain, where the humor of the situation had long me in the wings, his overcoat on his arm, his since expired on the altar of bread and but- eye-glasses careening toward me. ter. At the top of the staircase Jean replaced "My dear fellow, your distinction is mar Fanny upon her feet and both hurried down, velous. Whenever you 'go on,' the audience Madame to kiss her jeweled hands to the clap- stops coughing. But”- and he lowered his ping assemblage and the leading man to step whisper to a tragic bass—"pull up your back and yield to her the cream of the ap- stockings!” plause. Fanny, graceful as a Grecian goddess in I had no part in the second act and, since her crown of Titian hair, clinging tunic, and the orders tacked on the “call-board” strictly sandaled, pink-tipped feet, was sitting by the forbade the presence on stage of all not ac- wooden fountain using a sad, fixed smile on tively concerned in what was going forward Jean, the “big country fellow,” who had just there, I spent the interval in the basement recited: among the waist-high wicker baskets into which the wardrobe mistress, wrinkled and To breathe the breath of life into the marble silent, was already packing the costumes of Of thy body, O Sapho- act one. Knots of men and women loitered about, resting after the dance. Life was here when, catching her stage-manager's eye, she again clothed in its right mind. All the erst- said sternly, her back to the audience: while flush and beauty of the carnival were “Send that girl in blue off stage; her dress gone. The joie de vivre, donned perfuncto- is too low!” rily with tights and vine leaves, was with Adenly, in the midst of shimmering con- them cast aside, and had given place to the fetti, pirouetting paper ribbons, dancing and petty platitudes of a half-blind, breadwinning song-darkness. The “set” melted away existence. like sails in a storm. Leaning shadows in Caoudal, whose statue of Sapho, for which shirt-sleeves rolled the infamous staircase into Fanny was model, won him admission to the position. The call-boy, an apron around his Academy, addressed Dechelette, who gave the neck like a bib, stood ready. In the prompt carnival: corner the Chinaman, minus pigtail, rang a “I say, old chap, how are you fixed ?” bell. “Oh, very agreeably. For supper I had a 346 Everybody's Magazine basin of soup, a cut of apple pie, and a mug out, both of you, and leave me alone with of coffee—thirty-five cents.” him!” "One and five," calculated Caoudal in At some unseen signal the orchestra stole English money. “Not bad, not bad.” And in among the baskets, where they fingered he doctored his mustache with spirit-gum. their instruments and gossiped over affairs Through an open door I caught a glimpse in the Musicians' Union. Presently an elec- of the gray-templed, bacchanalian cupid re- tric light winked twice and they began to moving his crown of pink cloth roses to mop play softly, like a street-band at dusk when his brow on a grease rag the color of the the lights prick through the trees, and studios Thames. are deserted for cabarets. “My word,” he was saying to the China- I crept to the trap and looked out. Here man, who had his face in the wash-bowl, and there in the cave-like murk were the eyes “'arf salaries again 'Oly Week--an' two of of opera-glasses. A tangible hush was upon my kiddies with birthdays in April!” the audience. In the air was the sense of a In the adjoining room Tina, the toe-dancer, crowd bound by a palpable web of attention the grapes still in her hair, was weeping silent that a single false tone or gesture would ly on her sister's shoulder. shatter irreparably. The mind of the “house" “What's wrong with the little danseuse?” was focused upon the spectacle of pride sur- I inquired of Golf-sticks. rendering to the despotism of sex. A flutter “Oh, her toes hurt her. She got an encore passed over it-Fanny's gown had caught on to-night!” a chair; but the web steadied, held firm, re- It was Saturday, and the “ghost walked,”. maining thus until the cry of triumphant love giving each one an envelope in exchange for brought down the curtain and loosened the a signature. From the comedian's room: rattling applause from the cliffs of shirt-waists "Fourteen bob for a sleeper! What a beyond. blawsted outrage!” In act three Fanny and Jean are installed Beside the filter a buxom, motherly look in the country, outcasts, Fanny in curl-papers, ing woman in stubby-toed English boots, Jean juggled between pity and disillusion. with the “Sentinel” and other pamphlets In the smock and overalls of a French railway strapped to her telescope basket, was ex- porter, I tripped over exhausted stage-hands pounding Christian Science to the popcorn- sleeping while they could, and strolled on to munching musical director. do my “bit,” which was to flirt with Fran- “Yes, but there's no need for any one to be cine, an engaging wench in cap and sabots— depressed. Life is just what we make it.” the Christian Scientist. Our flirtation had Near her another woman, one of a group in it more of art than instinct and degenerated was saying: at once into mere “business," like the stair- “Well, do you know, I stopped in front of case scene. She told me, as I chucked her a fruit-stand yesterday to get something for under the chin, that I was to fetch a child the journey, and I just couldn't make up my from the station. Every now and then the mind whether to buy red bananas or yellow. erstwhile Chinaman drew a whistle from his I prefer red, do you see? But 'e 'ates rich pocket and played train. The lime-lights, food-cawn't bear butter on his vegetables. each with an attendant, were singing softly, Wants a bit of pampering, does my old man. like kettles on the hob. Over a spirit lamp There we were: I wanted red and 'e wanted in the wings the wardrobe mistress was cook- yellow. Well, what d'you think I did? I ing an omelet into which the call-boy acci- decided to get some of each " dently dragged the end of his cravat. Fran- Suddenly, on the stage directly over our cine, coming off, slapped him and all three heads, Jean's voice: were shaken by silent merriment while, on “Sapho? To the devil with Sapho!" stage, Fanny was reading of the death of There was a crash; from the ceiling the little Alice Dorée, who threw herself from a dust sifted into my eyes. It was the statuette window because Dechelette left her—and in of Caoudal's "Sapho" doing its nightly “fall.” the “house” was silence. On the window- After a silence came Fanny's voice, choked sill a heart of lettuce awaited its cue with with tears of rage, driving into the street the astonishing composure, and a metronome men who had preyed upon her beauty in the acted the part of a sober-voiced clock mark- name of art: ing the relentless march of the great band- “You beast! You dog of a man! Get master. The Seamy Side of the Curtain 347 The child I had gone to fetch sat in the sleeping form with a lingering last look, came wings with his mother. Under the lash of bravely out into the falling confetti. Of this one-night stands the color had left his cheeks, she scooped up a handful quickly and scat- but he was saying to the quiet woman in tered it over her shoulders before reach- black: ing the window. Here she sobbed and "Mother, I love you so much I could just leaned against the sill for support. In the hurt you!” “house" there was an apparition of hand- Then, for the nonce forgetting his Teddykerchiefs like white butterflies. The tenth Bear, he tickled her with a straw and smoth- assistant stage-manager muffled his whistle: ered his giggles upon her shoulder. Inno- “Whe-W-whew-whew!” With a final effort cently he played the rôle of Fanny's unwel- Fanny dropped her veil, took the hand of come child, his one concern being to catch Duty, and trudged resolutely into the wings. the right inflection so that Madame should Back she came immediately to kiss her hands nod pleasantly or stop to coddle him as she to the women who held their hat-pins be- tiptoed by. tween their lips while they applauded. The His appearance and the fact that he is theatre was emptying rapidly. In the bal- Flamant's son, clench Jean's resolution to de- cony, alone in a row of seats, a plain woman sert Fanny. He tears loose from her desper- of uncertain age clapped earnestly, reach- ate hands, from the "grip of a drowning ing her hands to the artiste, while her hus- woman,” and leaves her in tears upon the band, rather bored, waited patiently in the floor, very sloppy and miserable, while her aisle. child, who neither knows nor loves her, whines “Take another, Madame!” and raises Ned generally in an adjoining More smiles, a little cooing note of appre- room. ciation from Madame, and from the thinning Through this noisy scene the stage-hands audience more pattering and once or twice- slept unbrokenly, their snores frequently “Brava!” A last buzz in the loft and the bringing the irate tenth assistant stage-mana asbestos dropped like a guillotine. ger fuming out of the prompt-box. One or In an incredibly short time the stage was two of the principals lounged about discussing cleared and swept. Scenery, baskets, trunks, the hotels of the next stop. were loaded on drays. A single hunch-light Besides being a noisy scene this last was threw its glare over the boards scarred by a also a strenuous one, requiring muscle and thousand "shows.” In the empty audito- endurance. In watching it from the front, rium a policeman searched the aisles with a or even the stage, it was difficult to realize dark lantern. Men donned coats and de- that the whole thing had been pieced together parted, the stage-door wafting back the tang like a game of blocks; that every gesture, po of cigarettes new-lighted. Actors, with a sition, intonation, tear had been planned, last look at the “call” for the number of their studied, perfected, until all had become habit, berths, followed into the snow. And the and the completed pattern had flowed place was deserted before the power and smoothly. Yet it was so. Building the scene purse of the organization, accompanied by her from blocks required energy none the less, faithful secretary-companion and her maid, and both Madame and her leading man were appeared from her dressing-room. Without panting when the curtain fell, both trembling a word and like one very tired, her jade brace- like reeds in a current. Also, there were tears lets clinking like manacles, she walked slowly in the woman's eyes. across the stage and out into the snow, nod- In act four, when I reached my conning- ding good night to the ancient doorkeeper. tower, Jean had returned to hover moth-like She stood on the threshold for a moment, round his passion for Fanny, who burned filling her lungs with the clear air, her eyes, then with the steady, lambent flame of ma- unpainted now, sweeping the stars. Before ternal affection and self-sacrifice. Jean at her stretched a far white satiny plain of that moment slept on the couch. The mu- spider-like mines with glowing eyes, the sicians came trooping in through the base- raison d'être of Butte. With another long- ment and played under the window, using the drawn breath, she stepped into the waiting backs of one another's coat-collars as music- brougham. racks. Fanny wrote the farewell letter--for “Depot!” commanded the secretary, hug- she was determined to marry Flamant and ging her bills. .give her boy a name--and, caressing Jean's “Yes, ma'am.” Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen? By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of “Soldiers of the Common Good" EDITOR'S NOTE.—This is the second of Mr. Russell's articles on the sources of certain of our vast sudden American fortunes. It shows how some of them were founded upon a union of corrupt politics and unscrupulous finance that gave possession of our streets to a few manip- ulators, presented them public property worth hundreds of millions of dollars and forced the real owners—the public—to pay exorbitant prices for poor service. CHAPTER III THE FIRST DEVELOPMENTS OF THE FORMULA FOR SUDDEN WEALTH SRB BLOUVAIN- IT is an agreeable dream to assume that I successful men create their own occasions and with skill and mighty mind build their fortunes in spite of fate and circumstance; whereas there is no other lesson of observation SO sure as this, that opportunity thunders long and loud at many a man's door before he wakes to have greatness thrust upon him. Take for an example this public utility business that is the chief source of sud- den wealth in America; for years and years it lay there in all men's sight and nothing came of it but the simple pub- lic utility. Street-cars were operated in this country for more than a generation before any one suspected that of all gold- mines the richest was concealed be- neath the humble five-cent fare; and when the discovery was finally driven into the heads of men, the process was infinitely slow and fortuitous and not due to any man's prescience. By chance · and by circumstance, for the greatest profits of the public utility arise from its union with corrupt politics, and that union was an evolution and had nothing to do with any man's gifts. If the public util- ity had grown up at a time when political bosses and devious financial games had been made impossible, there would never have been any great fortunes drawn from the street- railroad business, ability or no ability, gifts or no gifts; a fact that might possibly moderate our transports as we contem- plate certain of the glittering white palaces. Philadelphia saw the beginning of the real traction industry of America, and the Centennial Exposition of 1876 dis- closed the first sure glimpse of the golden treasure. Large numbers of people must be transported about the city; the horse-hauled street-car was the only vehicle for these migratory millions. Up to that time the street- railroad had been by capital despised and by the public tolerated as a curi- ous but necessary evil. The cars were slow and scarce; the service was in its infancy. In Philadelphia, as in other American cities, there was a separate company for every line of track, small companies of obscure and hardy invest- ors; for to capital sitting upon millions, these two streaks of rust and a jangling car that collected nickels seemed too small to deserve the attention of adult financiers. Slowly the fact became ap- parent that the business was not really Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 349 to be despised, for it contained two elements imprisonment; Marcer received a sentence that made it worth while. First, it built up about twice as long. Yerkes was pardoned suburbs and had theref_re within it the power after seven months. greatly and rapidly to extend itself without You will find now in the best residence effort, without care, without investment on the region of Philadelphia a magnificent marble part of its owners; for the more suburbs, the palace, as grand, as imposing, as costly as more people were to be carried. Second, it any in New York or elsewhere, and surely was actually possible by debauching public one of the most beautiful of private residences. servants, corrupting politics, buying elections. It contains a really wonderful art-gallery and and forming alliances with the bosses, to many rare books and tapestries; it is one of secure free and unrestricted possession of the show-places of the city; the natives point the public highways not for one year nor for it out with pride and strangers regard it with two, but for a hundred years or a thousand. just admiration. A child might see that these priceless privileges could be used toward fortune building, and in WIDENER ONCE A BUTCHER a short time a child might also see that far beyond even these bright prospects the true That house was born of the defalcation profits of the business lay in manipulation of Marcer and the plight of Charles T. Into this fertile and lovely field came now Yerkes. It belongs to P. A. B. Widener. the men that long reaped its golden harvests. About forty years ago he was a young butcher To speak disparagingly of such success is a in Spring Garden Market, in no way dis- form of lèse-majesté. Fain would I say that tinguished from two hundred other butchers the records of these achievements reveal re- there except that he took an interest in parti- markable qualities and amazing mental at- zan politics, belonged to the political organi- tributes, although it remains quite clear that zation of his vard, and worked at the polls on up to the very gates of their good fortune election day. As a reward for these services these men were driven and thrust by fate. To his party found use for him as a lieutenant the first of them, indeed. Charles T. Yerkes, and lobbyist at Harrisburg, and when Marcer belonged a certain combination of hardihood, was removed from the City Treasury the audacity, dexterity, and persistence that was young butcher got the vacant post. In those rather out of the common. But he had days the City Treasurer of Philadelphia was served some months as a convict in a Penn- allowed certain fat perquisites. Hence it sylvania prison, and that experience had was a good thing, and when young Widener doubtless, and in more than one way, re- relinquished the office, he was legitimately the sulted to his advantage. It gave him time richer. for reflection, taught him caution, and in- The butcher was a friend of Yerkes, who dicated how close with safety a man might had also mixed much in the odorous pool steer to the reefs of the penal code. In a of Philadelphia politics. Yerkes, being re- measure his trouble had been brought about leased from the penitentiary, looked about by the Chicago fire. for something to do and stumbled upon the street-railroad business. A piece of scrap- YERKES GOES TO JAIL iron known as the Seventeenth and Nine- teenth Street line was offered to him on credit Yerkes was a daring young broker, reputed at four cents on the dollar. He took it. The to have means, and noted for a brilliant suc- Exposition came on and traffic greatly in- cess in juggling state bonds with the old bank- creased. Mr. Yerkes needed money. It ing-house of Drexel & Company. With his may be supposed that he badly needed money. prestige and magnetism he induced Joseph Money was hard to come by. Mr. Yerkes tried F. Marcer, who was then City Treasurer a very doubtful experiment. On the rattle- of Philadelphia, to invest money in Chi- track contrivance he had bought he issued cago. Some of the money, much of it in a small amount of bonds—about $200,000 fact, was the city's. When the fire came it worth, it is said. Very likely to his great cleaned out Yerkes and Marcer and in that amazement, he found that these bonds could crash the theft of the city funds was dis- be floated. With the proceeds he secured covered. Yerkes was indicted as accessory another link of railroad and issued more to the embezzlement, convicted, and sen- bonds on that, and thus the whole system tenced to two years and four months' was started on its truly wonderful career 350 Everybody's Magazine through the choicest realms of finance. Mr. - required: the confiding public attended to all Yerkes had hit upon the great truths that in that. normal times somebody can be found to buy The Philadelphia gentlemen were not slow a bond on anything, and that with the power to understand the good thing thus opened to issue bonds the gathering of great fortunes before them. It was a golden snowball roll- is simpler than the gathering of ripe apples, ing down-hill and becoming an avalanche for they fall from the tree into your very hand of money. Each railroad acquired by them and while you sleep. in turn acquired another, without trouble, When Mr. Yerkes had made the discovery without labor, without effort, and without that he could issue bonds on his scrap-iron, cost. The owners of the device were made sell them, and with the proceeds buy more rich while they slept; the entire population scrap-iron, he added to his original purchases, and all the future labored for them while repeated the process, and in the end at a they toiled not nor span. For every bond goodly profit sold the whole collection, scraps, and every coupon on every bond issued to buy bonds, and all. At that time, Mr. Widener, these railroads the public must needs furnish being no longer City Treasurer, was also the money, now and for many years to come. looking for something to do. He learned But the gentlemen for whom the public from his old friend Yerkes how good the bought the road—they furnished nothing but street-railroad business looked, and with a their agreeable presence and their happy few friends, William L. Elkins, William H. homes. Kemble, and others, he bought some scrap- For all this, of course, they had abundant iron on his own account. In a short time warrant and shining examples in American they discovered that all Mr. Yerkes had financial history. Jay Gould had shown the said about this business was true, and that precious potency of the Agreeable Formula still more was true, because upon them also when he watered the stock of Erie from loomed the dazzling prospects of wealth that $17,000,000 to $78,000,000 and made him- lay behind manipulation. self rich. Since his achievement practically every great railroad corporation had followed THE SIMPLE RULE FOR GETTING RICH in his august footsteps until to overcapitalize an average railroad had become a far more From this you are not to assume that these important source of wealth than to operate it. gentlemen nor any of them originated the Mr. Yerkes and his friends imitated Mr. Great American Idea in finance. That were Gould and then bettered their instruction. to wrong history, to wrong the dead and Gould loaded two or three railroads with them. They merely applied to their pur- water and then departed with the bagged chases the principles of that Idea after re- proceeds. They made the loading of one peated exploits by others had brought it to railroad the means to secure a second and the the precision of a familiar scientific formula. loading of the second a means to secure a It might be called the Agreeable Formula third, and so on until everything in sight was for Making Something from Nothing, or it loaded—and theirs. might be called the Formula for Getting Rich by Levying Tribute on the Public. The essence of it is to gather money by com- QUAY SCENTS LOOT pelling millions of people in this and suc How easily this good thing could be worked ceeding generations to pay exorbitant prices was demonstrated by Yerkes's Seventeenth for poor services. A simpler device never and Nineteenth Street lines. That grimy entered the human mind; of ingenuity or genius, Matthew Stanley Quay, who had in- novelty it had just so much as there is in the fallible scent for graft, business and other, pistol of a highwayman. To get control of succeeded Mr. Yerkes in the Seventeenth and one piece of street-railroad, good or bad; to Nineteenth Street lines, which he helped to issue upon it all the bonds and stocks it “reorganize" into the Continental Street would bear; to sell these, regardless of their Railway Company. The Kemble-Widener- real value, to the confiding public; to use the Elkins people “reorganized” their Seventh proceeds to buy another piece of railroad; and Ninth Street lines into the Union Passen- to repeat the process as long as there was ger Railway Company, with which, by the anything worth buying - what could be handy processes already referred to, they simpler? No risk was incurred, no capital amalgamated one small line after another, un- Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 351 in the community had share in this colossal structure of fraud; the respectable stock com- pany went into partnership with the brothel for the maintenance of existing conditions. The money that stole elections and stuffed ballot-boxes and hired criminals to beat cit- izens, all to keep this gang in power, was supplied by the public utility corporations. For years they systematically made of the city government in Philadelphia something before which all patriotic Americans bowed themselves in humiliation and unutterable shame; they did it, these corporations with special privileges. til their system had swollen to a portly size. In 1880 they had accumulated enough wa- tered stock to lease Mr. Quay's company. In 1883 they took in the Tenth and Eleventh and Twelfth and Sixteenth Street lines. Then they leased the Chestnut Street and Market Street roads, among the most im- portant in the city. The next year they re- organized again, this time into the Philadel- phia Traction Company; capital, $30,000,- 000; nominal and ostensible cash investment, $7,000,000; actual cash investment, next to nothing. Good business. There were now in Phil- adelphia three street-railroad companies, and no more, the many little lines having one by one been swallowed by these anacondas. The Philadelphia Traction Company next pro- ceeded to swallow the other two and thus be- came possessed of the entire street-car service of the city, 426 miles of railroad. This, of course, necessitated another “reorganiza- tion” and equally, of course, another flood of water. “About this time look out for high tides,” says the financial almanac whenever there is a "reorganization” project about; “reorganizations” being invariably floated into success upon huge issues of fictitious securities. The “reorganized” and freshly watered concern took the name of the Union Traction Company. WELDING THE SHACKLES PHILADELPHIA'S GRISLY GRAFT It has meant much more to Philadelphia than a mere enterprise to transport passen- gers or a mere enterprise to manipulate stocks and bonds. Gradually the public utility corporations had come to own the city gov- ernment of Philadelphia just as absolutely as they ever owned any acres of land or team of mules. They elected city officers and de- termined city policies. They maintained the most perfect system for political corruption that has ever been known among our cities. The rest of the country has heard much about the “Philadelphia ring.” The very life and substance of the ring were the pub- lic utility interests and the foremost of these interests was the traction corporation. Under the system the ring established there were cast every year in Philadelphia from 60,000 to 80,000 fraudulent votes, and it was by means of these votes that the public util- ity interests retained their grasp upon the city government and upon the privileges that made them rich. Every criminal enterprise For years dishonest aldermen, crooked public officers, election thieves, repeaters, floaters, thugs, keepers of criminal resorts, the men that falsified returns, were actively leagued with them. Every protected dive in Philadelphia, every illegal drinking-place, every house of ill-fame, paid a regular trib- ute to the ring, not in money but in the votes that kept the grip of the ring upon the city. Each of these lawless resorts was recorded in a list with figures representing the number of illegal votes it must furnish. So long as it furnished these votes it could continue to break the law; if it failed to furnish these votes it must cease to do busi- ness. From these illegal votes and others was developed an autocracy practically as perfect as a satrap's. No man could ordi- narily be elected to anything except by the will of the men that wielded this power. In all these operations the traction com- pany was most conspicuous. It was to mis- government in Philadelphia what the Penn- sylvania Railroad was to misgovernment at Harrisburg. If its sole business had been to make the American city a symbol around the world for all things detestable and dis- honest it could hardly have done more to achieve that result. It has in its sinister history some of the most astounding legisla- tion ever secured under any form of free government anywhere, and a generation of flawless administration could not efface the stains it has fixed upon the city from whose people it has drawn its countless millions of profits. Such was the story of this development in Philadelphia, where, because of the vast ter- ritorial expansion of the community, street- railroads were become an absolute necessity 352 Everybody's Magazine of its chorus, which contained these sig- nificant lines: Hail! hail! the gang's all here! What the hell do we care! What the hell do we care! and where the Formula worked without a hitch. Some economies resulted from the consolidations effected and occasionally some slight improvements, but otherwise the public got nothing from the transaction except the pleasure of building the fortunes of the syndicate and the entrancing prospect of many bonds and coupons to be paid in the future. After a few years of these conditions only two defects therein marred the perfect joy of the syndicate gentlemen. One was that the motive power, which was still horse, cost sixty-five per cent. of the receipts, and the other was that no one could tell how long the people might submit to having their highways used for the private profit of the gentlemen. As to motive power, the over- head trolley was installed against the in- dignant protests of the outraged citizens), and that not only effected a saving of forty per cent. in expenses, but built vast new suburbs to the increasing of business and the swelling of dividends. And as to the highways, it presently appeared that anxiety on that score was wholly gratuitous. Later, as might be expected, the dummy company sold to the Union Traction Com- pany the amazing franchise thus secured and the anxiety of the company was relieved; there was no longer any question about pos- sessing the streets; it could go on to reap forever the golden harvest; it had won a great victory. B ut how, you of the ungifted and unable, was this momentous triumph won? The public utilities alliance had taken the money wrung from the people by one set of excessive privileges to obtain by corruption from the people's representatives far greater and more profitable privileges. That was all. A similar situation confronting the same interests some years later had slightly different results, a fact that casts some doubt upon the perpetuity of the Formula for fortune-build- ing. Among the vast concerns of the gentle- men that operated the traction trust was gas - the United Gas Improvement Company being one of their business aliases. About ten years ago, under pretense of supplying a new and better kind of gas, the United Gas Improvement Company secured a lease for ten years of the city gas-works. Instead of furnishing better gas or cheaper, the com- pany furnished poorer gas and dearer. By the terms of the lease a renewal for another period was possible after the expiration of eight years. The question of renewal came up in 1905 and the allied interests planned in their usual way to add to their fortunes by securing a lease monstrously to their benefit. GRAFT BY SPECIAL TRAIN. The public utilities combination had now far progressed in its arts of municipal cor- ruption; it could, in fact, do as it pleased with the city government. It had elected the mayor and most of the aldermen; had chosen them for reasons of its own, and knew upon whom it could depend. A dummy company was formed. It applied for a franchise covering all the remaining streets, avenues, and alleys in the city. Mr. John Wanamaker made an offer to operate the public's traction utility for the public good. The combination's mayor, with ostentatious r, with ostentatious contempt, flung the offer upon the floor. The legislature at Harrisburg met one night in extra session. The enabling act necessary to the granting of the franchise was rushed through both houses, which sat up until three o'clock in the morning to pass it. A special train carried it to Philadelphia. There the city council was convened in a special meet ing. As soon as the enabling act was received, the necessary ordinance was introduced, and passed, making to the dummy company a free gift in perpetuity of the public high- ways of Philadelphia. This done the al- dermen lolled back in their chairs and sang ribald songs. One of them long lin- gered in the memory of Philadelphia because THE VALUE OF A HANGMAN'S NOOSE But the public discontent for once broke over the barriers of custom and fraudulent elections and for once the allied interests were defeated; the force of public indigna- tion was plainly too great to be withstood. When mobs gathered in the placid Phila- delphia streets and with ropes in hand prom- ised to hang the aldermen there was evidently no time for gangsters considerate of their own welfare to be making further raids on the people's purses. So the precious scheme lapsed. In the height of the trouble the Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 353 residences of prominent men that supported council to meet in extra session that a mon- the gang were surrounded by threatening strous swindle might be enacted upon a mobs and for several days the inmates deemed community? it advisable not to appear on the streets, a fact that indicates the extent to which people CHAPTER IV were aroused. THE FORMULA FOR WEALTH AS IT WAS Philadelphia; it is the way it has gone else WORKED IN CHICAGO AND NEW YORK where. Rotten business and rotten politics —the two are invariably mingled in these All this is to forereach a little upon my triumphs. Without the corrupting of poli- narrative. Long before the Widener-Elkins tics, the sudden fortune builders could never combination had secured a grip on Philadel- have obtained their huge privileges; without their huge privileges, they could never have possessed their gleaming palaces. So, flat- dweller with $1,639 of total possessions, here is one way in which the difference in brain-cells manifests it- self. Rather poor, it seems -does it not?—and cheap and stained and tawdry look the gleaming palaces so gained, when you think of stuffed ballot-boxes, de- bauched public officers, and that soiled and wretched alliance with the dive-keeper and the broth- el. At least a man can live in a flat amid his $1,639 of possessions and die struggling hard with rent- bills and butchers' bills and yet know that he has done nothing to debase public virtue nor to lower his country in the eyes of the world. And there must be some- thing in that; when you stop to think of it, there must indeed be a great deal in possessing that con- sciousness. But power! Those miles upon miles of great sky- reaching structures massed Photograph by Gutekunst, Philadelphia, solidly in the business re- WILLIAM L. ELKINS. gion—we did well to take them for the emblems of huge, indomitable, phia, Mr. Yerkes, having enlarged in Dakota irresistible, abnormal power. And here are and Minnesota his experience with a gullible some of its manifestations, strange and sub- public, bent all his gained knowledge upon the tle. For what ordinary force could impel a street-car system of Chicago, which had never legislature to sit up all night and a city been exploited. He came to Chicago with SIDE VIEW OF THE ELKINS MANSION IN PHILADEPHIA. $20,000, said to have been borrowed money, it, got more stock, secured control, started and asked for an option on some scrap-iron the printing-presses on a bright new line of street-railroad on the North Side. He found stocks and bonds, and possessed himself of that someone else the whole institu- had an option that tion; gaining more- would expire on a over a surplus from certain day. which he repaid the “At what time on $20,000 he had bor- that day?" asked rowed for the option. Mr. Yerkes. He now proceeded “At noon,” said to apply his Phila- the cashier of the delphia experience, bank that was fi- issued more securi- nancing the deal. ties, bought more Mr. Yerkes went roads, milked them away and on the with construction specified morning company and other returned with his devices, and eventu- $20,000 certified ally, piling onecorpo- check in his hand. ration upon another He sat facing the and one "reorgani- clock, which he zation” upon an- watched patiently. other, emerged, with The instant the the Union Traction hands reached Company of Chicago twelve o'clock, he embracing all the leaped at the cashier lines of the city ex- with his check. The cept those upon the option gave him the South Side. As a required wedge into concrete illustration the concern. In a of his methods and short time he had hy- their results, I may pothecated the stock, say that the Union borrowed money on FRONT EXTRANCE TO THE WIDENER MANSION. Traction Company 354 Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 355 was capitalized at $120,000,000 and in the height of its prosperity it was estimated by an expert examiner to be worth as a going concern $16,000,000. Except for legisla- once observed, “is to buy old junk, fix it up a little, and unload it upon other fellows." I. may remark in passing that there was very little fixing up in the case of the Union Trac- P. A. B. WIDENER. tion, aldermen, and newspapers, it cost Mr. Yerkes nothing. As a system of transpor- tation it was the most picturesque lot of junk ever seen in this world and furnished un- doubtedly the worst service. Junk is the right word for it; Mr, Yerkes said so himself. “The secret of success in my business," he tion of Chicago. Why there should have been any more, indeed, is not apparent since the good people of Chicago not only endured Mr. Yerkes and his methods, but in fifteen years supplied him with $40,000,000 of net profits on an investment of nothing; with the which comfortable assets he presently left 356 Everybody's Magazine them and secured control of the underground public indignation followed its appearance system of London. and its sponsors in the legislature lost heart. But he had stayed long enough to make The bill was quietly allowed to die in com- an enduring place for himself in Chicago's mittee. Mr. Yerkes waited a little and pres- history. Only one cloud there obscured his ently the equally notorious Allen bill made success. The junk that he manipulated was its appearance, authorizing the City Council operated under franchises. That is to say of Chicago to grant Yerkes a fifty-year fran- that when the people of Chicago presented chise if it should see fit to do so. This bill their streets to the street-railroad companies, was passed-in haste. As there was in the a date was set at which the right of possession State of Illinois not one human being except should expire. For most of the roads the Mr. Yerkes that desired to have it enacted date was July 1, 1903, and its approach and as probably there were very few that did worried Mr. Yerkes. To his ability, energy, not fully understand the nature of the reasons and foresight the expiration of the franchises for its passing, the extent of the resulting seemed of very great importance. We know scandal is easily understood. now that in this his ability, energy, and fore- The battle was now transferred to the sight deceived him, for it was of very small city council. Mr. Yerkes had been long importance. In New York we have seen and skilfully at work and had secured a clear companies continue to occupy the streets majority of the aldermen. He looked, there- many years after fore, toward an easy their franchises have victory. But the expired and have popular wrath was even seen the ex- aroused. The thing pired franchises was too palpable, counted as assets of the corruption was great value. In Chi- too gross. Indigna- cago we have seen tion meetings began the expiration of to be held. The franchises become a newspapers were source of some an- flooded with pro- noyance to the pub- tests. Spontaneous- lic but of no concern ly men gathered and to the companies. declared that so Hence, Mr. Yerkes monstrous a bribery must certainly have was not to be en- been in error though dured. The atmos- he never suspected phere seemed the fact. stormy. On the The law of the night the vote was State forbade the to be taken an im- granting of any fran- mense crowd gath- chise for a longer ered about the city term than twenty hall. It was ob- years. Mr. Yerkes served that many went to the legisla- men were armed ture, which he well and some bore ropes knew how to manip- and clubs. The con- ulate, and secured stituents of one al- the introduction of derman marched a bill repealing the down - town with a twenty-year limit band at their head, and granting him a sent into the cham- franchise for fifty ber, dragged out years. This was the their representative celebrated Hum- and told him in the phrey bill. A tre- plainest of words mendous outburst of A CORNER IN THE WIDENER MANSION. what would happen From Town and Country, Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 357 to him. There were cries of “Lynch them!” and “Shoot them!” Even sober-minded men advocated violence if the ordinance should go goodly Chicago harvest were associated his old Philadelphia friends, P. A. B. Widener and W. L. Elkins. The only thing better By courtesy of the New York American and Journal. THE ART GALLERY IN THE YERKES RESIDENCE, NEW YORK. through. The gallery of the council chamber was packed to its limits with an angry and threatening crowd. The evening newspapers issued hourly extras; the entire city was aroused. The aldermen looked at the sinis- ter faces about them and heard the shouts of the crowd in the street and their courage failed them. Men that had doubtless bar- gained away their votes refused to stay bought and the ordinance was defeated. It had cost Mr. Yerkes, at Springfield and in Chicago, close upon $1,000,000, and for his expenditure he had nothing to show ex- cept some indisputable evidences of public hatred. The lesson must have sunk deep. He never repeated the attempt to have his franchises extended, and when he left Chi- cago the question of their future was still unsolved. Those that care to consider how surely we progress in such matters may be interested to know that the thing Mr. Yerkes desired and failed to get has now, in the main, been secured by Mr. Morgan and Mr. Ryan, and without any riots, disturbances, or indications of public wrath. All of which shows that there is more than one way to pull off a rotten franchise. With Mr. Yerkes in the fatness of the than to own the traction system of one city is to own the traction system of many cities. So when Mr. Yerkes let the others into the good thing of Chicago, all fared together exceedingly well. Mr. Yerkes was faithful to his friends and, in certain ways, generous with the vast sums of money that rolled in upon him. He had a picturesque way of dealing with aldermen, and then another picturesque way of talking about his deals that rather endeared him to those that fancy cynic humor. One of his compressed com- ments on a certain Chicago editor has passed into local history. So have other remarks of his. He cannot be said to have origi- nated the plan of running too few cars and overcrowding these, but he certainly gave that plan most extensive usage. Under this system the cars in Chicago customarily carried three times their normal capacity and the suffering inflicted as a result was great and general. The people complained at last of this method of fortune-building, and oc- casionally some one would arise to remark that as the streets Mr. Yerkes was using for the purposes of his aggrandizement were really the people's, and as Mr. Yerkes was there by sufferance, it would be decent for 358 Everybody's Magazine him to provide tolerable accommodations to a public from which he was drawing so many millions. Some one actually suggested that Mr. Yerkes should run more cars. conversation, and perhaps for that reason condoned in his career things not usually condoned nor discussed in a mixed company. But of Mr. Widener and Mr. Elkins no one A VIEW OF THE SUNKEN GARDEN IN THE WIDENER ESTATE. “Tush!” said Mr. Yerkes when these ever knew much. They kept aloof from the matters were called to his attention. “It is details and were known chiefly as recipients the strap-hangers that pay the dividends.” of the profits. Both were very quiet men. Mr. Dividends, however, were a small part of Elkins was retiring and eminently respectable. his profits, the most of which were made in He, too, built a marble palace, which rivaled issuing and selling vast masses of fictitious Mr. Widener's; he, too, installed an art-gal- securities and from construction companies lery. About the personal traits of Charles that were supposed to do work for the traction T. Yerkes linger a thousand reminiscences; company and really served as covers for the about his companions none. So far as any issue of more water. Two of these con- mark upon their generation is concerned struction enterprises organized by Mr. Yerkes they might exactly as well have been of the paid something like 500 per cent., which was unelect, of the unable and the ungifted that cheerfully added to the load of obligations have $1,639 of average wealth and fight the on the traction company. As Mr. Yerkes daily battle in the little flat. presently withdrew himself from the traction T hese were the men that now turned their company, the extent of these obligations was attention to the street-railroad situation in a matter of no concern to him. I may add New York, where, at the suggestion of Mr. that the people of Chicago have found them Whitney, they made their way through the of much more serious import. basement door. Mr. Yerkes was undeniably a huge element It was an inviting place to enter, and no for evil in the city, but some men liked him. one may deny that fortune was grossly and They liked his candid, genial, and breezy blindly with them. New York had not yet Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 359 awakened to traction potentialities. To the the sage counsel and able suggestions of Mr. typical New Yorker a street-car had always Elihu Root, then confidential attorney to Mr. meant a funny little thing that ran occasion- Whitney and Mr. Ryan, now Secretary of ally in a back street where there were no State. Under the guidance of this good man, stages. He was just beginning to understand the other members of the syndicate could the extent of that error. And before he fully doubtless feel at all times, and reasonably, realized what was going on about him, the that however unusual the course pursued and fortunate gentlemen of the syndicate had however it might be criticized by a harsh and made themselves very much at home on the unsympathetic world, it was at least not premises, where they fared quite well, thank pointed toward the door of the penitentiary. you. By the application of the Agreeable Anything that Mr. Root advised must be Formula, they succeeded in adding to their right. Mr. Root was accustomed to arise in frugal store one railroad after another that Cooper Union and other public places and had cost them nothing, until in a few years with brow of thunder and voice of righteous they were in a commanding position in the wrath, flay all forms of tergiversation and metropolis and exercising a very great and particularly those practised by Tammany very subtle influence upon politics and legisla- Hall. It must have been felt that ere such a tion. I have yet to find any instance where man would countenance the least compromise these delicate financial operations have gone with evil the heavens themselves would fall. forward without affecting politics. Tammany Hence with bland confidence the syndicate helped the syndicate and the syndicate helped gentlemen took Mr. Root's advice, harvested Tammany, and the fruits of this close alliance their profits, and justly esteemed their coun- were sometimes historic and nearly always a selor. Mr. Whitney said of him that he was direct injury to the public welfare. As to the historic part, I may cite that it was solely by means of this partnership that Mr. Whitney in 1892 drove Tam- many Hall to the loyal support of Grover Cleveland- a fact that Mr. Cleveland seems at times prone to for- get; and as to the other, the syndicate secured an intermi- nable list of great privileges and im- munities to which it had no right, but by which it profited im- mensely. Certain leaders of Tam- many Hall became largely possessed of syndicate stocks, and it is not yet forgotten that on a certain occasion a large block of them was one of the most valuable men alive. "Other found among the effects of a member of a lawyers tell me what I can't do,” said Mr. certain leader's family. Whitney. “What I like about Root is that From the beginning of its marvelous career he tells me what I can do and how to do it.” in New York, the syndicate was blessed with Prosperity beamed upon the syndicate as By courtesy of the Verw York American and Journal. THE GRAND STAIRWAY IN THE YERKES RESIDENCE. 360 Everybody's Magazine one property after another fell into its lap, At this juncture, about 1890, the Whitney without effort, without risk, without ex- syndicate came in. It organized a new penditure. At the end of its first ten years company called the Fulton Street Railroad, in New York City, the World, exhaustively and issued $500,000 of five per cent. bonds reviewing the history of these achievements, and $500,000 of stock, having incidentally declared that there had been added to the neither property, business, nor rights of any syndicate's traction possessions in the city kind upon which to base these securities. $19,000,000 of water, all of which repre- The syndicate then went to Dady & O'Rourke sented clear profits to the happy gentlemen, and offered $150,000 of the new bonds in ex- quite aside from dividends, interest, deals, change for the franchise and property of the and all other sources of income. old company. This offer was accepted. Mr. As to these other sources of income and Whitney then used his great influence with some cognate incidents, these chronicles will Tammany Hall and secured the reduction have to say much hereafter, but for the present of the tax from thirty-eight per cent. to one- I may as well give two illustrations that, eighth of one per cent. of the gross receipts. though small, may seem to indicate to per- This done, the syndicate sold at par to the sons in the 2,000,000 and to persons in the Metropolitan Traction Company the $500,000 1,500,000 just why they are classed among the of stock and had the Metropolitan Traction ungifted. Company guarantee the $500,000 of bonds. 1. Fulton Street is about a mile long, con (Remember, please, that the Metropolitan nects at one end with an East River ferry to Traction Company was the name of the Brooklyn, and at the other end abuts close corporation that the syndicate gentlemen upon a North River ferry to Jersey City. controlled in its operation of most of the It is an important line of cross-town travel. street-railroads of New York.) In the late eighties the North & East River From this transaction the net profits (with- Railroad Company was organized to build out the investment of a dollar) were $850,000 and operate a street-car line in Fulton Street. made in a few weeks. The time was to come One of the results of the Take Sharp scandal when it would look paltry compared with had been a law, called the Cantor Act, by other gains of these fortunate gentlemen. which the public's franchises for public 2. From bond issues made according to utilities were to be sold to the highest bidder the Formula upon only one of the properties instead of being given away by bribed alder- absorbed by the syndicate, the Houston, West men. When the Fulton Street franchise was Street & Pavonia Ferry Railroad, there was offered under this law, competitive bidding derived a net profit of $6,000,000. The ran the price up to thirty-eight per cent. of ability, energy, and foresight involved in this the gross receipts to be paid to the city. transaction consisted in picking up the money. The company was the first in New York to The service to society lay in loading an adopt the underground electric system. It already heavily burdened enterprise with failed, and the franchise passed into the hands more obligations that the public must pay. of a contracting firm, Dady & O'Rourke, of Certainly, in these instances, the gifts of the Brooklyn, which completed the road and gifted hardly shine forth as anything phe- operated it, but with horses, not electricity. nomenal; the brain-cells involved may be It was unprofitable chiefly because of the thought to be very much like other brain- heavy tax paid to the city. cells of which we have knowledge. “Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ?” will be continued in the October number. THE ADVENTURER By LLOYD OSBOURNE Joint author with Robert Louis Stevenson of " The Wrecker” and “ The Ebb-Tide"; author of " Motormaniacs," "Baby Bullet," etc. CHAPTER XIX (Continued) One afternoon there was a heavy squall of rain. Kirk took advantage of it to fill his V IRK grew moody and silent, and kept water-tanks, which were already seriously much to himself. He dreaded the mo- depleted. He had put all hands on a rigid ments that brought them together, and was half allowance, and this alleviation was most always the first to slip away. He had no welcome. Incidentally the squall drowned armor like Vera's—no means of hiding his out the camp, blew down several tents- dejection and he shrank from those enforced including his own-and incited every one meetings that brought home to him the reali- to laundry work. There was a scramble zation of all that he had lost. The days, once for soap, for buckets, pans, basins. Big so short, seemed now never to end; and he fellows, stripped to the waist, floundered in would pace for hours before his tent, up and soap-suds, rubbing and scrubbing under the down, up and down, in a blank preoccupa- downpour with the glee of children. It was tion. Time, for that matter, hung heavily the first washday in Camp Weaver—and the on every one. No one was permitted to pass fact that it might possibly be the last, as well, the camp lines, and in that illimitable solitude drove every one into the open with his arms they actually suffered from confinement. full. This stern rule was rendered necessary by As soon as the sun came out, Kirk had the the frequent sight of Indians. Once a party winches going on board the Fortuna, and of twenty galloped boldly round the camp, all her sails hoisted. He was afraid of their and were driven off only by a shot fired over mildewing on the booms and yards, and their heads. The lookout constantly reported wished to dry them thoroughly. Every sailor the presence of the enemy on the horizon, and knows what havoc damp plays on board a more than once all hands were called to arms. ship, especially in the tropics, and how dearly At night, the great searchlight moved restless- neglect is paid for. It cost Kirk a pang to ly in its orbit, flooding in turn, with a startling hear the slatting of the booms, and to watch brilliancy, every segment of a vast circle. No the uneasy sails, straining as though the old precaution was omitted to guard the camp, ship herself were fretting to be off. and at regular intervals Kirk made the rounds He sighed, and went back to his tent where to see that every sentinel was in his place. it lay collapsed in a good-sized puddle. He The irksomeness of it all was intensified got it up, pinned his soaking and bedraggled by the lack of improvement in Weaver. His wardrobe to the guy-ropes, and wondered if condition remained unchanged. While the the world would ever be dry again. The air others grew daily better, he hovered between of comfortlessness everywhere; the yellow life and death, and gave no promise of ever mud; the cigar that would not keep alight; releasing them from their predicament. The his slopping feet; the disagreeable sensation doctor said he might linger on for months, of water trickling down his back—all were and only shook his head when questioned as depressing to the spirit and hard to bear to his ultimate recovery. The uncertainty with equanimity. He returned to the For- told on every one's spirits. It seemed as tuna, and, swinging himself up the spidery though they were stuck there forever. The spokes of her front wheels, ensconced him- nervous tension showed itself in many dis- self on the truck. This was a favorite place agreeable ways-growling, faultfinding, quar- of his. For an undisturbed nap it had no rels, and fights. Kirk's authority was taxed equal. It was cool, silent, and peaceful, to the utmost, and he found it increasingly though a trifle hard to lie on. On this occa- difficult to preserve order. sion it had the added advantage of being dry. 361 362 Everybody's Magazine He took off his shoes and socks, unloosened undeviating course to the westward, her his belt, and bundling up his coat into a booms guyed out, her towering sails singing pillow, fell into a doze. The camp, with all as she plunged and rocked before the wind. its cares and discords, melted away. Basalt At first Kirk was convinced that the ves- islands rose out of the mist, rimmed with sel would soon heave to. The miscreants palms, and set in a pellucid sea. His boat could impose their own terms; and he never was grating on the shingle, and the natives doubted that there would be a parley—and were coming down to welcome him. What a surrender. Though consumed with anger, a pity they had brought all those pigs. He he had to admit that Jackson had the whip- appreciated the compliment, of course—but hand of them, and he tried to bring himself what should he do with them? Dozens of to the mortification of submission. It would pigs, borne on poles, and screaming as only be a hard pill to swallow; but what else was pigs can. Then the boat began to rock. there for them? The possession of the ship, The fools were letting it slip back into the the guns, stores, and water precluded any swell. If they weren't careful, the next com argument. The only alternative was to per- ber would roll them over! ish miserably like castaway sailors on a raft. He opened his eyes. Pigs, no—but men, But there was no sign of shortening sail. distractedly shouting and yelling. The wheels The camp had faded from view, and still the were moving! Through the rapidly revolv- ship was kept at a terrific pace. The situa- ing spokes he saw Wicks with a rifle at his tion began to assume a more ominous and shoulder, deliberately aiming at the ship. sinister aspect. Was there to be no parley, With this one exception the whole camp then? Were these fellows above cold- seemed to be in pursuit, as after a runaway, bloodedly deserting the party behind? It racing along a couple of hundred yards be- looked more and more like it. What could hind the ship in breathless and panic-stricken he do? He had his six-shooter, but much confusion. For a moment Kirk thought the good it was to him, crouched there on the Fortuna had broken away of herself; but he journals, and holding on like a bronco-buster. was quickly undeceived by the explosion of Should he drop, and take his chances of re- Wicks's rifle -- the threatening gestures of joining the camp? Risky, and worse still- the pursuers—the cries, the execrations - profitless. Should he wait till night, and more than all by the hoarse rattle of the then, in some way, disable the vessel? Ex- steering-chains as he watched them tauten cellent-if he but knew how. But how? He and slacken in obedience to the helm above. racked his head for ways. Almost any harm It was no unlucky accident! A directing within his power to inflict could be readily brain was guiding the mighty fabric, and repaired. It would take a stick of dynamite he could feel her speed quicken as the sheets to do anything irreparable—and he had no were paid out and she was put dead before dynamite. He knew there was some in the the wind. Doubled up on the journals, hold, but what likelihood had he of finding and holding on with a convulsive clutch, it? None. Kirk slowly began to recover possession of There loomed up before him a much less his faculties. Ah, he understood now those glorious rôle: to come out boldly at sundown, sly glances—Beale's unexpected willingness and appeal to the men's humanity. None and good humor in getting the gaskets off- of them was really bad. At least, he would the readiness of others of the malcontents to have said so the day before. Beale himself bear a hand for the common good while bet- was not at all one's idea of an absolutely ter men held back, intent on rescuing their heartless brute. He was blatant and vindic- sodden belongings. It was as plain as day- tive, and swollen with ideas of his own im- light now. portance—but it was impossible to believe he Jackson and Beale had run away with the would not listen to reason. No sane man ship! would care to blacken his soul with so terrible a crime. As he studied the matter from this CHAPTER XX side, Kirk realized how grossly he had ex- aggerated his fear; and the more he was re- The pursuing figures dwindled. The lieved the angrier he grew at such triumphant camp shrank to a few melancholy bits of treachery. It was on the cards that the white silhouetted far behind on the edge mutineers would signal the position of the of the sky. The Fortuna was held on an ship, to take the heart out of the majority The Adventurer 363 by forcing them to a frightful tramp across bare, sinewy arms, tattooed in a dozen places, many miles of prairie. Kirk's blood boiled sprawled over his wheel as though, as usual, at the thought of it. Not if he could help it, he was letting the others do all the work. by George. But the more he considered it, Forward on the bridge Kirk could make out the more likely it seemed that these fellows some figures, one of them a woman. From would perpetrate just such deliberate villainy. the crow's-nest protruded two tiny heads. The poor wretches, ready to drop with ex- The galley was shut; the long deck apparently haustion and thirst, would be gathered in by empty; and the fight seemed to resolve itself twos and threes, without the strength even to into one against four. If he could manage to reproach the scoundrels who had inflicted this land the first shot there was a good chance suffering upon them. The picture of Vera that he might win. on an all-night march roused Kirk to des. He scrambled over the rail, and even as peration. he did so Beale saw him, and with a yell He was a powerful man, in the prime of whipped out a revolver from his hip pocket, vigor and health. Better still, he had a and fired at him pointblank. Kirk was so revolver with six forty-four cartridges. Surely unprepared for the fellow's quickness that he could do something-surely—surely! Such three shots whistled by his head before he devilry ought not to be permitted to go un could reply. He had never been in a pistol punished. By heavens, he would find a way. duel before, and to make a target of a man He had to. He must. was a paralyzing sensation. His weapon He crept out on one of the axles, warily, seemed to go off of itself. The explosion holding tight, watching the play of those was terrific. There was a flash of flame, and terrible spiral springs through which he had agonized faces were seen through the smoke. to pass. They would crush together as the It went off again and again-bang, bang, vessel dipped, and then rebound again with bang, like a cannon. Where was Beale? disconcerting suddenness. To be caught here Was that he lying on the deck-face down- was to have one's body ground to pulp-it kicking? Shamming, maybe. Well, here was was a mouth, with snapping fangs of steel, one more. The bead of the pistol danced holding one at bay with unutterable horrors. over the huddled mass. The flame leaped The motion of the vessel was so irregular and again. Was there another cartridge left? violent that it was impossible to forecast it. He couldn't remember. Oh, he wished to Kirk nerved himself for the ordeal, and, wait- heaven he could remember! Why weren't ing for the moment of rebound, dragged him the other fellows shooting? Their hands self through with feverish agility. The fangs were all on the spokes. They did not dare closed behind him with a discordant grating to let go — they couldn't - deprived of and creaking that made him shudder. But Beale's help; the back-lash was almost un- he was safe. His head swam; he saw a dizzy masterable, and they were repeatedly lifted world through the whir of wheels; the flesh off their feet. The vessel was yawing, and seemed to cringe on his bones—but he was the wind was spilling out of the mainsail. safe. Kirk had a vision of Haines on the weather- He crawled out till he could see the end of the bridge, leveling a rifle at him. It channels above him, and the black, impend- was now or never. He would be killed like a ing rigging, where it was made fast below. dog. It was all he could do to speak, and He undid his holster, placed his pistol in his then his voice sounded strange and cracked. trousers pocket, and, with the grim resolve “Down with your helm!” to shoot first, pulled himself up the shrouds. The men gaped at him in consternation. Here he rested to get his breath, to toss away He flourished his revolver at their quailing his cap, to draw out his revolver and cock it. faces. Haines began pumping viciously Then with stealthy deliberation, foot by foot, with the rifle. Bullets were spattering every- he mounted till his eyes were on a level with where. the deck. “Down with your helm. Down! Down!” At the steering-wheels were four men The spokes were shot to starboard. The clinging to the spokes, and swaying with main-boom jibed, snapping the guy-ropes like every movement of the ship—Beale, Harding, packthread. Kirk lowered his revolver, and, Gibbs, and Mackay—so near that he could running aft, bent his own strength to putting see the whites of their eyes. The big Aus- the helm hard down-hard down as far as it tralian had a pipe in his mouth; and his would go. The Fortuna turned in her own 364 Everybody's Magazine length, and, with a crash like the end of the was a goner. Nesbit was lying stone dead world, rolled completely over. · beside him.” “Who's unaccounted for?” asked Kirk. When Kirk came to himself he was lying His tone took on its usual authority. He was in a tangle of gear. He felt sleepy and cold, reminded that it was time to assert it. and the full extent of the disaster dawned on “Beale." him only by degrees. There was a dull, “You can pass him," said Kirk grimly. grinding pain in his right shoulder, and the "He's lying under the main-boom, and it will arm itself was numb. He put his left hand take a jack to get his body out. Who else?” to his head, and drew it away all wet with “Matthews and Harding.” blood. He regarded it stupidly, and then in “Gibbs, you try to break your way into the the same bewildered way pinched his legs to doctor's cabin and find us a little whisky, and see whether they had suffered. No, his legs anything else you can see in the way of medi- seemed all right. He twiddled his toes, and cines and bandages. Smash open the lockers was gratified to find that they could move. with one of the fire axes. And get some He felt himself all over, prepared for horri- water if you can find any—there'll still be fying surprises; and, finding none, returned some in the butts." to the consideration of his arm. It seemed “Aye, aye, sir." to be broken. It was as lifeless as a piece “The thing for the rest of us to do is to find of wood. He pulled up his sleeve, and Matthews and Mrs. Hitchcock and Harding.” touched the flesh gingerly. It had a livid They began searching again, scattering, so look he did not like, and ugly, crimson as to cover the largest field. A cry from streaks. He felt his head again, and came Mackay brought them all together as fast as to the conclusion that it wasn't much hurt, they could run. He had discovered Harding though his hair was matted with blood, and and Matthews where they had been flung be- there was a persistent warm trickle down neath the mainsail. They ripped the canvas one ear. open and Matthews crawled slowly out, none He extricated himself, and staggered to his the worse, apparently, for his temporary im- feet. The wreck about him was frightful. prisonment. His companion, however, was The deck of the Fortuna rose before him, insensible; and it was no easy matter to drag sheer as a wall. He was standing in a chaos him through the wreckage to the unencum- of sails, ropes, splintered booms and yards, bered ground beyond. They were all very crates, barrels—from which he heard groans, shaky and bruised and exhausted. Kirk's and faint cries for help. Crushed under the shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and at times it main-boom he perceived the figure of a man was all that he could do to stand. Never was He went over to it. It was Beale--or what anything more welcome than the sight of once had been Beale, for the body was Gibbs with a bottle of whisky and half a pail mangled out of all recognition save for one of water. Some of the raw spirits were tattooed arm. Farther on, he pulled a lot forced down Harding's throat, and he was of stuff off Haines, and helped him up. The gradually revived. He opened his eyes, catastrophe had settled all their differences. asked where he was, swore feebly, and then He was quite glad to find Haines unhurt sat up. The others made cups of their hands, childishly glad-effusive. And this sullen, and greedily drank the allowance Kirk red-headed fellow, who a few minutes before served out. It was a scanty one, and Kirk had been doing his utmost to kill him, got refused their request for more. They could out a' handkerchief, and carefully tied it easily have obtained the bottle by force, and around Kirk's wound. they eyed it longingly as he kept it close be- “Let's try to find the old lady,” he said. side him--but no one stirred a hand. The “She's about here somewhere. I thought I swift retribution that had overtaken their heard her voice under that sail." mutiny, and the desperate part that Kirk had Together they started off to search for her. played in it, had cowed them into servile As they were doing so they were joined by obedience. Each was eager to ingratiate Gibbs and Mackay. The newcomers brought himself in the captain's favor, and to forestall news of Jackson. the day of reckoning. "I guess he's done for,” said Mackay. Kirk sent them back to look for Mrs. Hitch- “He was still breathing when we reached cock, while he made his way, painfully, and him in the foretop, but anybody could see he dragging every step, to where Jackson and The Adventurer 365 Charlie Nesbit were lying, still within the top. "I am sure Captain Jackson would ap- The great search-light, with its complicated prove of that,” she said. “Hadn't we better apparatus of lenses, generators, tubing, and go and tell him?" valves, had burst all over them, and was For a space no one answered. It was emitting an overwhelming stench of gas. Gibbs who was the first brave enough to The two men were locked in each other's answer. arms, both dead now. In Nesbit's face there “Why, ma'am,” he faltered, “the poor was a look of unutterable horror. His eye- gentleman was in the foretop when she " balls protruded; his mouth was open and Mrs. Hitchcock turned very pale, trembled, distorted; he had seen-and understood—the and pressed her hand to her heart. Gibbs death he was to die. would have said more, but she stopped him. Jackson presented a less repulsive spectacle. "I-I think I'll sit down here a little while, He had the air of being asleep. His withered and-and-rest,” she said at last. “No, cheeks, his bald head, his benignant mutton- don't stay with me; I would rather be alone. chop whiskers had miraculously escaped the That is, if there is nothing I can do for pollution of blood. They drew out his life- him?" less body and laid it on the ground, buttoning “There's nothing," said Kirk. “Nothing his uniform to hide his crushed and bleeding that you or any one can do for him now." chest. Kirk was in the act of covering his They left her sitting on a spar, and when face with a handkerchief when he heard they turned and looked back she was on her Haines calling out. Mrs. Hitchcock was knees, praying. found. Kirk followed Haines back to where “She allus thought a lot of Jackson,” said Mackay and Gibbs were bending over her Mackay. in bewildered astonishment. She was sitting “More than I ever did, the domineering, huddled up on the ground, giggling and overbearing be—" began Gibbs. grimacing as though it were all an excellent “Hush!” exclaimed Kirk. "He's dead joke. As the ship capsized she had been now, and has passed beyond criticism. The flung against a canvas ventilator, and carried thing for us to do is to dig the reflector out down on a veritable bed. “Like shooting of the search-light, and rig up an apparatus the chutes," she explained, bubbling over to swing it on." with hysterical merriment, "and then splash- “Aye, aye, sir,” said Gibbs deferentially. ing through eternity at the bottom!” “It can't be more'n twenty miles to camp," “I am thankful you are alive," said put in Mackay, “and in clear weather like Kirk. this the flash ought to carry all of sixty." “So am I, young man,” she returned with Haines shuddered. unimpaired sprightliness. “Moi aussi, je “And you won't let them be too hard on vous assure!” us, sir, will you, sir?" he pleaded. “I have He wondered whether he ought to tell her a mother, sir, and two young sisters that— " of Jackson's death, and on second thought "It all depends on yourself, Haines," in- refrained. She would find it out soon enough terrupted Kirk sternly. “You fellows will as it was. But her crazy gaiety, so discordant have to earn your forgiveness, and earn it amid the universal ruin, seemed at the in the next few hours. Do you understand? moment proof against all misfortunes. Gab- Earn it by hard work and rigid obedience bling, nodding, energetically gesticulating to orders!” with her hands, she persisted in a vivacity Heartily protesting their intention of doing that in the circumstances was hardly be- so, the three mutineers followed Kirk to the lievable. battered, blood-splashed top, and applied “Captain,” she cried, “I put myself at themselves with a will to the extrication of the your orders. It's your business to tell us reflector. what to do, and it's ours to do it-hee, hee- Half an hour later an improvised helio- isn't it, Gibbs?” graph was sending its dazzling message across "My idea is to find a mirror somewhere, the prairie, and with blinding flashes in- and keep flashing our position back to cessantly cutting the arc of the eastern sky. camp," said Kirk. “It will give them the general direction to reach us, and if night It was midnight. falls before they arrive, we'll build a fire, and The survivors were gathered about a fire, send up rockets at intervals.” whose beams lighted up their shadowy figures 366 Everybody's Magazine drowsing beside their rifles, ready at a word yards, and once more to entrust their fate to to spring to their feet and defend the wreck the willing winds. from Indian marauders. All about them And if they failed ? rose a wild tangle of masts, spars, and rig- A crushing sense that he was to blame for ging, seen and lost and seen again as the it all oppressed his heart. Not for having fire flickered or fell; to one side the im- capsized the vessel. That he gloried in. penetrable night, on the other the dim Better to have the wreck of the Fortuna mountain of the Fortuna's hull, and her than no Fortuna at all. It was some satis- wall-like deck, sheerly perpendicular, at once faction that Jackson's villainy had been so familiar and so fantastic in its altered rela- so appropriately punished. He had not a tion to the ground. particle of pity for him, nor Beale, nor Nesbit. Harding lay on a blanket, moaning faintly, They had got only what they deserved. His and occasionally calling out in a husky voice remorse went farther back. Had he only for water. Mrs. Hitchcock hovered over him, listened to Vera's pleadings, to her reiterated ministering to his wants, and whispering en- and passionate appeals—what an incalculable couragement. The old woman, in the hour amount of misery would have been prevented. of disaster, was showing good qualities hither. In the retrospect his own stubbornness ap- to unsuspected—the finer side of her irre- peared inexplicable. He cursed the stupid sponsible and contradictory nature. In the pride that had worked so great an evil. She presence of death and suffering she seemed loved him; she would have appreciated at its to rise superior to her inveterate triviality. full the sacrifice—had he made it for her. The incorrigible giggler and scatterbrained Westbrook, who on so many occasions had monologist for once stood awe-stricken before shown such marked and unmistakable regard the eternities. for him, would have been won over. They At intervals Kirk put a match to a rocket, would have returned the two happiest people and watched it shoot skyward in a streak of in the world. fire, till, halting in the dome of night, it ex- And now? ploded its little galaxy of stars. Here for an Oh, what a fool he had been! What a fool instant they would hang, sparkling brilliantly he had been! -crimsons, blues, greens, all intermixed in a vivid confusion—to vanish in the twinkling There was a shout in the darkness, the of an eye, leaving the night blacker for their sound of stumbling feet, faint far-away having been. voices calling. Von Zedtwitz strode into It was then, it seemed to Kirk, that the the firelight, revolver in hand, a formidable, poignancy of the disaster came home to him broad-shouldered figure, full of energy and most fully. These fiery signals, so identified ire. with the distress of ships, so long the appeal Kirk sprang up to meet him. of castaway and perishing seamen, forced “Doctor!” upon his mind an analogy of similar hopeless “Girkpatrick!” . ness and despair. Explanations hurriedly passed. The Ger- He asked himself how this vast mass was man was in a steaming sweat, and his voice ever to be righted again. What if those was vibrant and guttural from long run- gigantic masts were sprung, the mighty axles ning. His delight in finding Kirkpatrick twisted, the water-tanks burst asunder by the alive seemed to outweigh every other aspect frightful impact with which the Fortuna had of the disaster, and he grasped him in the struck the ground? In the universal ruin embrace of a bear. Though less effusive, about him he saw no means of their ever Kirk's heart, too, was full, and it brimmed extricating themselves again. Were they over with affection for the honest old German. doomed to perish miserably of starvation and With von Zedtwitz there seemed to come an lack of water-or, more appalling still, to atmosphere of resolution, sturdy courage, and become slaves to the savages? No, not that superb self-confidence. assuredly, for they would die fighting first. They were still excitedly talking as some Turn as they might, there was but one way of the others began to trickle in. Dusty, of escape, and that was the Fortuna. Their travel-worn, limping, they presented a sad lives depended on their power to right her, and disheartened appearance. For twenty- to repair her shattered fabric, to spread her odd miles, guided by Kirk's signals, they had torn sails on those splintered booms and toiled across the llano like an army in pre- The Adventurer 367 cipitate retreat. Guns, blankets, water bottles had been thrown away. Those who dropped out were left where they fell. The flight had degenerated into a mad scramble of every man to save himself. Kirk was half crazy to learn news of Vera. She, too, had started out with the rest. Only the wounded had been left behind. He eagerly questioned the weary throng as they arrived in twos and threes and threw them- selves on the ground. They could tell him nothing more of her, nor of her father. Spiritless and apathetic, they seemed not to care. All they wanted was water for their parched throats, and once they got it they rolled over on the ground like logs. Von Zedtwitz had disappeared to ascertain as best he could in the dark the probable damage to the ship. The only men Kirk could rouse into action were the recent mutineers. They knew on which side their bread was buttered, and showed an almost pitiful alacrity and zeal to serve him. - Taking two of them, with lanterns, Kirk went in search of the missing. The folly of the proceeding struck him before they had gone a quarter of a mile. He himself was so spent and ill that he could scarcely walk. They had no means of carrying water, no compass to guide them, no aid, in fact, to give beyond the little whisky that still remained in the bottle. They stood there helplessly under the stars, fearful of going on lest they should lose the direction, and calling out as loudly as they could. There was an infinite melancholy in the sound. It rose in the void like a wail of anguish. “Hallo-0-0-a! Hallo-0-0-a!”. “Hold on!” cried Haines suddenly. "It's nothing but the echo,” said Mackay. “Listen!” exclaimed Kirk. From far across the prairie, but clear and distinct in the silent air, they heard what seemed to be an answer to their call. Again their own shout went up. Again it was answered by a silvery note that thrilled in Kirk's ears with startling reassurance. He took hold of Mackay's arm, and began to run. Weariness and pain were forgotten. “Sing out, boys,” he panted joyfully. “Keep it going-keep it going!” “Hallo-o-o-a, there! Hallo-0-0-a!” Blundering through the darkness, shout answering shout, they at length discerned shadowy figures hastening to meet them. The first was Wicks, who on recognizing Kirk let out a roar like a bull. The Devonshire man wasted no time in greeting, but turned back, eager to pass the good news to his companions. “It's the captain himself !” he cried. “Right as a trivet, and no harm done!” There was an outburst of exclamation. Kirk found himself in the center of a little group of friends who seemed ready to pull him to pieces from excess of thankfulness-Wicks, Goltz, Phillips, Crawshaw, Westbrook, and Vera. The upraised lantern lighted their pale and haggard faces thronging all about him. Little Crawshaw wept unblushingly. West- brook, in that mellow voice of his, always so sincere and kind, and now tinged with a singular nobility, thanked God that Kirk had been spared to them. “I never thought to see you again,” he said. “It's like meeting one risen from the grave!” Kirk felt a little soft hand feeling for his own, and an insinuating girlish body nestling beside him. Vera had not spoken a word, but her eyes, luminous with a strange and tender light, had never left his face. She per- ceived, what had escaped the others, that her lover was suffering. “Kirk,” she said suddenly, "you're hurt!” “Oh, it's nothing," he returned. “Arm's a bit dicky, that's all.” And with that he fainted. CHAPTER XXI The days that followed were hardly more than a blank to him. Looking back on that misty period, his most pronounced memory was of lying with a clinical thermometer in his mouth. It had a peculiarly flat taste, and he recalled the inordinate amount of coaxing that was necessary to make him keep it there. There were also intervals of whisky in teaspoons, and nauseating messes of a gray, sticky complexion that he was persuaded, with extreme difficulty, to get outside of. There was a bitter taste always in his mouth that even water could not allay. There was Phillips, too. He hated Phillips. He and the thermometer seemed to go to- gether. To see him was to know that the glass-tasting process was to recommence. Once he actually chewed it and oh, dear, wasn't there a commotion! It had become the most natural thing in the world to have Vera about. When he opened his eyes and did not see her, he felt 368 Everybody's Magazine again?" a vague sense of indignation. He felt that badly smashed. The mainmast was sprung, he was being neglected. He would complain too, but they repaired the place by shrinking peevishly to the empty air, and the ache in on hoops of red-hot iron. The maintopmast his bones would grow worse. He had no couldn't be saved, but the foretopmast was idea what a tyrant he was—what an over- doctored into shape. It looks awfully patchy, grown and exacting baby. It was Vera's but Mr. Wicks is sure it will stand. Oh, place to love him, to caress him, to throw over they've been so busy, Kirk.” him the mantle of an exquisite maternity, “And the water-tanks held ?” above all to stay by him. As he grew better “I suppose so. Nobody has ever said a he used to lie for hours watching her. Her word about them. But we're getting the graceful head, the turn of her rounded chin, same old skimpy allowance." her fair hair, so glossy and thick and soft, “Thank God!” were an unending delight to him. “Now you must stop talking, and shut One afternoon he awoke from a long sleep. your eyes.” His drowsy eyes took her in with a strange “But you'll stay close to me, won't you?” and new understanding. He motioned her “Right here." to come over, and she knelt beside the cot “I should have died if it hadn't been for and took his wasted hand. you. I know I should.” “Vera,” he said, “I think I must be "Pooh! Go to sleep.” better." “Mayn't I be grateful?” He noticed her pallor; the dark rings un “Not till you are well.” der her eyes; her worn, wan face, beautiful “And it's true that you love me?" even after days and nights of watching. “Yes, dearest." “How long have I been here?” “And nothing shall ever come between us “Let me think-eight days." “And you have been nursing me?" “Never, Kirk, never.” “Yes." "I wonder if — " “Why didn't you leave it to somebody The rest of the sentence was never said. The hand in hers relaxed. He was asleep. “Because I love you, silly boy." It was the turning-point in Kirk's ill- A delicious contentment stole over him. ness. He improved rapidly. Little by little, He felt his hand fondled against her hand, he gradually learned all that had happened her cheek, her lips. It was sweet to lie since the night of the wreck. Harding had there, in a languor of weakness, and be lingered a few days, and then had passed petted. away, without regaining complete conscious- “It was my arm, of course?" ness. Strange to say, Weaver was on the “Compound fracture, with fever and de high road to recovery. The little jockey lirium.” said it was the doctor. The doctor modestly “What did the doctor say—will it be all ascribed it to a miracle. right?" The mutineers had been let off scot-free, “Oh, yes.” although there had been some wild talk of “Soon?” making an example of them. But every man “Pretty soon!” was precious, and it was policy, as well as “What's all that clanging and banging?” mercy, to deal easily with them. The fellows “That's papa and Mr. Crawshaw. Does had buckled down with such a will, and had it bother your poor head?”. shown such energy and good spirit, that at “No, I like it. What are they doing?” last, by universal consent, they were rein- “Working at the forge.” stated and forgiven. “Then they still have hopes of getting her to rights? The Fortuna ?” It was a wonderful day for Kirk when, “Hopes! Why, they've done it!” leaning on Vera's arm, he was permitted to “Done it, Vera? Do you really leave his tent, and see with his own eyes the mean ?" progress that had been made. The camp “You mustn't get excited.” was humming like a factory. Anvils were “Oh, but, my darling, you are keeping me thundering, bellows blowing, and the Fortuna, on tenter-hooks- She was not damaged?” now on an even keel, was overrun with men. “Not irreparably. The forward truck was The different gangs cheered him as he moved else?" The Adventurer 369 along, and crowded about him with hand- at all. Mine was to wait for the varnish shakes and hearty congratulations. It gave to wear off, and let my little girl see her him an inexpressible pleasure to find how admirer in his true light. Character was little he had been forgotten. It made him sure to come out. Well, the result of all my proud to receive before Vera the homage of waiting and watching was to discover that these rough fellows, and to see their faces Kirk here is one of the finest, truest, noblest gladden at his approach. It seemed to raise fellows I've ever known. He's a man, every him in his own estimation. How good they inch of him, and pure gold all the way through were—how good and kind and generous! -and there's nothing he could ask for that I And, by George, how they had worked! wouldn't give him. There! I've made it It was almost unbelievable. One might plain, I hope? Tried to, anyhow. And almost think, to look at her, that the Fortuna God bless both of you." had never turned over at all. There were “I don't know how to thank you,” said big jacks under her forward, and the lack of Kirk. “I was not prepared for-for- It the maintopmast gave her an unfamiliar look; means so much to me. It-it means every- but once on deck she was to all appearance thing." the same old ship, and not particularly “And I'm going to love you more than changed. ever," said Vera, throwing her arms around her father's neck. “You mustn't think it's “And so you two children are engaged?” going to make the least difference-because “Yes, papa.” it sha'n't!” “And friends are to accept this as the only “But we haven't finished with the thing intimation?" yet," said Westbrook, with dry humor. “I “Yes, papa." am interested in the young man's prospects. “And the other high-contracting party- A bit hazy, aren't they?" can't he speak?" “I've been thinking over that. You are "It was Vera's idea to do all the talking, going to put him in charge of the new plant sir.” in Jersey City," “And what am I to do-faint with sur "Oh, I am, am I? A post requiring every prise?” technical qualification, and employing eight “Yes, papa." hundred men!” “Do you suppose I haven't seen it all “Kirk can do anything!" along? Why, I've had you two under a “Ah, no doubt. Big gun construction microscope, and kept awake more nights being one of those simple things that any- thinking it over than you would believe.” body can pick up—twelve-inch rifles made “Mr. Westbrook,” said Kirk, “I know while you wait, and delivered daily in our very well that your daughter's choice is bound special van! Pom-poms and three-o'-threes to be a disappointment to you. She is left on your door-step with the milk!” throwing herself away in marrying a man like “Papa, you're mortifying Kirk.” me—but I love her, and she loves me.” “God forbid! Only let us get down to “Disappointment-humph! How do you earth. Falling back on the old man isn't know it's a disappointment, young man?” my notion at all. Silly too, when there is “She has the world at her feet.” a tidy little independence just over the “That usually means an earl.” horizon.” “Oh, papa, do be serious. It's a life-and- “Papa, you promised me that awful night death matter to us.” that if we pulled through you would go “Well, you two, listen to me. When I straight home.” first saw this thing beginning, it made me feel “That's what I'm getting to.” mortal bad, I can tell you. I hardly knew “No, I am going to hold you to your word. what sort of a man I wanted for you, Vera, It's all too dreadful and dangerous. I won't but frankly-it wasn't Kirkpatrick. But I let you beg off.” was a man of the world. I was too wise "Who's begging off?” to show any marked disapproval. The “You gave your solemn word of honor!” stern parent is answerable for half the un “I admit it. It was one of those impul- happy marriages. He supplies an element sive occasions when the best of us stumble. of romance, and helps to keep the little I lost my nerve-temporarily.” darlings in a flutter. That wasn't my idea “Kirk has promised me, too." 370 Everybody's Magazine cent. " "And so the expedition has to be aban- heart out. He thought it was all off. The doned?" tent door closes at ten o'clock sharp, young “Of course." lady.” “It's just as easy to go on now as to go back. Ask Kirk.” CHAPTER XXII “Are you going to break your word?” “No-o.” AFTER nine days' southward sailing the “I hold you to it, papa.” Fortuna lay awaiting von Zedtwitz's re- “And condemn Kirk to the bread of de- turn. To port were some low reddish hills, pendence, eh? Bitter bread, my girl. He rising tier upon tier, till the red melted in the has his hand almost on a fortune, and you will blue and purple of a distant mountain chain. not let him reach out for it?" To starboard was the prairie, shimmering “It may be all a myth.” like the sea, and as illimitable. Beneath “Hundred thousand pounds all his own! awnings, fore and aft, the crew and officers Half a million dollars, Vera! At four per of the ship were whiling away their time as best they could, and trying to keep the sus- “It's no good talking, papa. I won't, I pense from becoming unendurable. Through won't.” the winding gap in the near-by hills von “Isn't Kirk allowed to open his mouth Zedtwitz had disappeared three days before, on the subject?” leading a party of ten well-armed volunteers. “We're of the same mind.” Sixteen miles beyond, he believed, was “Now, see here, Kirk, if you hadn't been Cassiquiare. The doctor had been positive tied hand and foot in pink ribbon-what of it; had pointed triumphantly at the land- would your vote be?” marks in proof; had resented, with fiery im- Poor Kirk hesitated. He tried manfully to patience, the least doubt being cast on a liebut couldn't. memory that went back so many years. Un- “I-I'd see the thing through,” he said. fortunately, his observations had not agreed “How does this going back strike you?” with Kirk's. They differed by sixty-odd “Well, sir, if Vera insists— " miles-nearly a whole degree of latitude. “Now, own up, it's a frightful disappoint But there were the hills; there was the gap; ment to you, isn't it?” there the doctor, jubilant and vociferative. “I'd sacrifice more than that for her, sir.” Every assurance, in fact, that they had struck “Sacrifice-ah, that's the word. Frankly, the right place. So they had manned the side, isn't it a great pity to throw up the sponge and sent him forth with ringing cheers. That when we are on the very threshold of the had been at dawn on a Tuesday morning. place?” By Wednesday night they had fully expected “Yes, I have to admit it.” the party to return. By Thursday they grew “Did you hear that, Vera ?” anxious and apprehensive. Friday found “Yes, papa." them very gloomy indeed. “Doesn't it count with you at all?” “Foretop, ahoy!” "It's because I love you both so much." “Yes, sir.” “Didn't you tell me at Felicidad that the “Did you see a flash just now a couple of hardships would surely kill me? Why, I points off that cliff?” have fattened on them. Never felt so well “No, captain.” in my life! It seems to show that you are “Make out anything?" not always right, doesn't it?” “No, sir.” "I want to go home, and live happily ever “Keep a sharp lookout!” afterward." “Aye, aye, sir.” "Postpone it a few weeks. Oh, my dearie, This colloquy roused the ship. Dozing the game is in your hands. Be a little men awakened, and inquired what was the thoroughbred!” matter. Glasses were leveled at the place “We-ell-papa, I let you off your promise!" Kirk pointed out. But nothing could be “Hurrah, Kirk! Southward ho, for Cas detected. The air, quivering with heat, gave siquiare!” a strange unsteadiness to the bare and crim- * By Jove, sir, we'll make it this time!” son hills. They might have been painted on “You won't mind if I run round and tell some theatrical drop-scene, and wabbling Zeddy? The poor chap has been eating his in the draft. The Adventurer 371 breaking out the ensign at the main. It satis- fied his crying need for action-to do some- thing—to relieve in any way the tension that grew every instant more insupportable. The bright bunting drooped lifelessly at the mast- head, refusing to flutter. The sun beat down with an increasing fierceness. The toy soldiers were running now, at a heavy jog- trot. But keeping together, and finally show- ing for what they were-a string of shaggy, overburdened men-dirty as tramps—their wicked-looking rifles giving them the aspect of desperadoes. Von Zedtwitz put both hands to his mouth, speaking-trumpet fashion. The ship hushed. Tense and breathless, every one waited in a fever of impatience to learn the news. Was the treasure still there? Or had others got in before them? Or were they, after all, sixty miles out of the true position? “CRAWSHAW- Every ear was strained. Crawshaw! Had the doctor gone crazy? “WAS BITTEN- B ut there was the little man himself, spectacles and all, skipping like a colt! “BY A SNAKE!” "On deck, there!” “What is it?" “They're coming, sir!” There was a hoarse buzz of excitement followed by a rush up the rigging. Men who had never trusted themselves before beyond a score of ratlines now valiantly assailed the sky itself, racing one another to the tops. Some stuck midway, but yelling lustily, and swelling the hubbub that on every side greeted the good news. “Are they all there?” “All there, captain.” “Eleven?” “That's right, sir.” “Any sign of trouble?” “No, sir.” “Who's leading?” “Von Zedtwitz himself, sir." “What's he doing?” “Seems to be waving his shirt." “In distress?" “Can't say—more like he was dancing, sir.” These meager details were passed on with excited comment. Glasses were focused on the place where at any moment the little party might be expected to emerge. A tiny speck came into view. Behind it, in single file, gradually appeared ten other tiny specks. The sight of them was the signal for a mighty cheer. Then faces were picked out, with eager and noisy disagreement. It became a burn- ing question whether the fifth speck was Wicks or Jack Cohen - whether the ninth was Henderson or Crandall. “It's Wicks, you wall-eyed goat.” “Cohen, or I'll eat my hat! Tell him in a million." “It's Wicks, just the same.” “Wicks, nothing—it's Jack!” And so on, and so on. The human monkey must chatter. The specks grew bigger—now toy soldiers in size, stepping out briskly. Red faces bobbed into the glass-von Zedtwitz's taw- ny whiskers — rifles, cartridge-belts, water- bottles-dazzling bits of metal-work. It was exasperating to have to wait; to know nothing; to search vainly for any indication of how things had fared with them. Why had they not agreed on a signal? Von Zedtwitz, bare to the waist, continued energetically to wave his shirt. But that might mean anything. You could take your choice. To some it seemed a good omen. Kirk answered it by This extraordinary piece of intelligence, so remote from the subject that was desperately agitating them, overwhelmed them with an astonishment verging on dismay. What of Cassiquiare? Of the treasure? Of all those ardent hopes for which so much had been already sacrificed? They stared at the doctor in amazement, expecting him to bellow, in his resounding voice, the yes or no on which everything turned. But he seemed to con- sider that he had set all their curiosity at rest, and resumed his ponderous double-quick at the head of his men. The ship broke into a wild uproar. Disci- pline was forgotten. The gun-crews deserted their stations, to which Kirk, ever mindful of danger, had assigned them at the first am- biguous gesticulations of the old German. It had flashed across his mind that possibly the little party was being pursued; that they had roused a hornets' nest in that hollow of the hills. But the men raced pell-mell for the gangway, and with shouts and huzzas streamed over the prairie toward their com- rades. Kirk, too, caught the contagion, and darted down. The ship might take care of itself. The point was to reach Zeddy, and reach him quick. 372 Everybody's Magazine The old fellow stood panting in the center colossal picture in his mind could not be of a mob. described. Speech was inadequate. OA wiper " he was saying; “no longer “Corking,” said Wicks solemnly, filling than that, but flat-headed and wicious, and it the breach. stung him just above the ankle. Ah, but it was what you call a close shave. Many times CHAPTER XXIII I said: 'He will die. Assuredly he will die!' And ach, how he screamed! You wouldn't In the first flush of enthusiasm and joy, it think so little a fellow could scream so big. seemed as though the object of their voyage Had I not some potash permanganate, and were as good as already gained, and little most carefully rubbed it in, you would never thought was given to the obstacles that yet have seen him again!” had to be overcome before the Inca treasure “But Cassiquiare?” demanded Kirk, be- might in reality be called their own. To side himself. “What we want to know is have reached the limits of the llano was one whether you found Cassiquiare?” thing; to transport fifteen tons of metal from “Of course we found Cassiquiare," re- its mountain stronghold, thirty-one miles or turned von Zedtwitz, irritated at the inter more, was quite another. ruption. “Was I not sure? Did I not say A tentative effort, made with one of the it with positiveness?” automobiles, showed in a very disheartening “And the treasure? The gold?” fashion the impossibility of carrying out their “It was there where the snake was. I original plan. The powerful car, stripped thought I heard a hiss, and so, bromptly, I like a racer, and lightened of every superflu- said- " ous ounce, attempted in vain to force the “Oh, hang the snake! Good heavens, passage of the hills. The direction was con- man, is the treasure actually positively stantly lost; rocks and declivities intervened; there?” a day was spent in arduously accomplishing “Of gourse." nothing. “Just as you left it all those years ago? It became evident that such haphazard Just as you described it to us?” dashes were a mere waste of time. In going “Why, certainly, captain.” forward the circuitous road behind was for- “Bars and bars of it?” gotten. It was as hard to get the car back “Hundreds! Ask Wicks.” the dozen miles it had covered as it had been “Aye, that's a fact, sir,” said the first to push it on. That night, in a council of officer. “Lord, but I never saw such a war, it was determined to survey a track to mountain of metal in all my days, and stacked Cassiquiare, mark the way with guide-posts, so nice and tidy that it might have been the blast and level the bad places, and, if neces- Bank of England. It made a fellow blink sary, build some light bridges. It was a for- to think that every ingot of it was virgin gold, midable undertaking for so small a party, and enough to buy a row of cottages in the hampered besides by the need of guarding High Street of Appledore.” the ship, and having always to keep on board Crawshaw came bustling up to shake of her a sufficient crew to resist attack. hands. He looked not a penny the worse But they had come too far, and had en- for his bite, and was in uproarious spirits. dured too much, to shrink now before this “Captain,” he cried, his eyes shining last colossal task. For five weeks the dogged through his spectacles, “the treasure was the work went on. Shift hy shift, every hour least of it! But the crumbling buildings, of daylight was utilized. Axes rang, fell- acres big, all covered with figures and hiero- ing trees on the scantily wooded uplands; glyphs—the courts—the triumphant arches, blasts detonated, hurling boulders into the lopsided and toppling—the mystery and air; backs bent to shovel, crowbar and pick; gloom and vastness of it beggars all descrip- and the dusty cars, bearing tools, dynamite, tion. Imagine the grave of a vanished civ- food, water, and encouragement, incessantly ilization-a London of forty centuries ago, passed and repassed, honking good-will, and a forgotten Rome. It seemed to catch a fel- at times even proffering their strength to low by the throat. You were overawed in drag out a loosened rock, or to tug some spite of yourself. You stood in the middle timber into place. of it all - " Though his arm was out of splints, Kirk He paused, at a loss for words. The had been forbidden by the doctor to use it The Adventurer 373 much, and the poor fellow chafed at the cars leaving the ship, loaded with men and idleness that was thus forced upon him. He material. Dusk saw them returning with was condemned to stay by the Fortuna, where the exciting report of what had been ac- though he found plenty of things to occupy complished. In the stifling galley Hildebrand his leisure, he grudged to the others the in- stirred his great pots, scanned his bursting spiriting work he was not permitted to share. ovens, brewed his huge coppers of coffee for From the foretop, whose dizzy terrors he had that mighty supper when all hands reas- taught Vera to despise, the pair would sweep sembled on board. No Vikings in the past the hills with their glasses, and pick out, as ever did better justice to a board than the far as their eyes could discern it, the tortuous weary and voracious Fortunas after their day road that was to open the way to the golden of toil. Even under a torrid sky the white city. man can dig his black brother under, but he It was a matter of some bitterness to them makes up for it by an onslaught on meat and both that they were never to see Cassiquiare. vegetables, on coffee, marmalade, and pud- Westbrook had flatly said so in one of his ding, that is truly terrific. Kirk was inclined rare moments of asserted authority. Their to view with misgiving this frightful inroad divided forces kept him in a constant flutter on their provisions, but von Zedtwitz de- of alarm, and he, alone of the whole party, clared, with his deep laugh, that it would had Indian on the brain. A few of the abo- lighten the ship for the gold to come; and rigines had once been seen to the southeast, Westbrook affirmed the old truth that the darkening the horizon for an hour and then human engine responds in proportion to its sinking over it. The memory of them had fuel. remained to torment the old man with “Feed them up now even if it means short visions of attack and massacre, and he re- rations afterward,” he said. “To stint the peatedly declared that neither Kirk nor Vera boys now would be fatal.” should ever leave the ship. And the "boys”—not stinted-gobbled up It was hard, during those long, hot days, whole barrels of salt pork and beef, whole to be so closely confined on board. In the cases of marmalade, jam, and honey, moun- general sense of security engendered by the tains of new-made bread. Rough, homely profound peace about them, Westbrook's fare, but good for muscle, for endurance, for nervousness appeared more and more absurd prolonged and heavy labor under the fiercest and unreasonable. He was always insisting sun that ever shone. on vigilance, in season and out. The track crept up and up. The ten-mile Even Kirk and Vera grew a little impatient post was planted—the twenty-mile post—the under his restrictions. They pleaded and thirty. The excitement became tremendous argued with him in vain to be allowed to see as the end drew near. One night but one Cassiquiare before they should leave the place car returned; the other was in Cassiquiare! forever. They derided the thought of Indians; Yes, in Cassiquiare, its crew camping beside hotly denied that there was the least risk in the it, and eager for the honor of bringing down world; pointed out the injustice of this won the first load of treasure! The news, brought derful sight being withheld from them when by Crawshaw, set the ship wild with de- it was so freely accorded to the others. But light. Cheers rose on cheers. Bearded men the old fellow would not give way an inch. hugged one another, and capered on the His daughter was his daughter, he would deck like children. Pistols were fired in say—uncontrovertibly, and Kirk was needed the air. Everybody yelled himself hoarse to sail the ship. He could not afford to as though in duty bound to make all the let either out of his sight. Nor, to satisfy noise possible. Tin cans were beaten; pots, this objection, would he consent to go with barrels. One brazen-lunged individual got them. The very idea appalled him. Cool hold of the speaking-trumpet, and in deaf- and courageous in the face of real danger, heening tones, demanded cheers for West- was a veritable poltroon before that of his brook, for Kirk, for Mrs. Hitchcock, for own imagining. Phillips ascribed it to the Zeddy — till exhausted nature could no reaction following extreme mental excite- longer respond to the ear-splitting invita- ment; said it was common in soldiers after a tion. Ten minutes of pandemonium; of battle; gave it a Latin name. frantic, uncontrollable joy; of boisterous All this while, day in, day out, the work in abandonment of all restraint. Ten million hand went on indefatigably. Dawn saw the dollars was theirs to divide on the capstan- 374 Everybody's Magazine head. Ten million dollars-hip, hip, hurrah! the bars in duplicate. One he is to keep; Every one of them was rich-rich for life the other he will file with Mr. Westbrook." and in a few short days they would all be “I understand, captain.” homeward-bound! “You, too, Mr. Goltz, will follow the same At daybreak Crawshaw, von Zedtwitz, and instructions." Henderson got away, inaugurating a regular “Quite so, sir.” schedule that it was intended to maintain till the last ingot should be under hatches. At Westbrook, at the lazaretto door, saw the four bells of the morning watch the other car treasure safely deposited within its dim in- appeared in sight, swiftly darting over the terior. All but one bar, which he retained prairie, three men on the seat, five more and carried to the table, laying it carefully clinging as best they could to the long narrow on a towel to prevent its smirching the cloth. deck behind. Honking furiously, the car The afterguard silently and intently watched drew up under the Fortuna, and as the new him file a small surface clean, and drop a few comers sprang up the gangway they were globules of acid on the glittering place. received with outbursts no less loud and ju- “It's gold, all right,” he murmured. “Yes, bilant than those that had welcomed Craw- it's unmistakably gold.” shaw the night before. But the excitement Then he heaped a little mass of filings on was suddenly hushed to a breathless sus- his watch-glass. pense as Goltz, at the head of his little party, “I will assay these," he continued, looking marched aft, clicked heels, and saluted Kirk up. “I suspect silver, and perhaps a little with German punctilio. lead. The color is a bit light-you can all "Have the honor to report our arrival on see that, gentlemen-too light for absolute board, captain.” purity. But I hazard the opinion that it will “Very good, Mr. Goltz.” work out to about nineteen carats fine.” “Was too overloaded with men to bring down more than forty bars, sir." “Where are they?” CHAPTER XXIV “Alongside, sir.” “Mr. Wicks?” FOR the succeeding period everything was “Sir!” subordinated to the task of bringing down “You have rigged a block and tackle to the treasure. Each car was able to make the foreyard?” two round trips daily, covering a distance of “It's all in shape, sir.” 120-odd miles, and averaging 1,000 pounds “Then hoist in the stuff, and stow it in the to a load. Crawshaw, Henderson, Goltz, lazaretto." and Weaver were the chauffeurs-one on, “Very good, captain.” one off-each when on duty accompanied by A few moments later, as the first batch of a helper drawn in turn from the crew, who ingots dangled in the air, there rose shout vied with one another for the opportunity. upon shout that swelled to thunder, followed Goltz and Weaver owed this honor to their by a rush to see and actually touch the won- knowledge of cars, each having behind him derful prize that at last was within their a wild and spendthrift past, in which his grasp. The sling was opened on the deck, motor had been the most innocent of his ex- disclosing forty small, dark, flattish bars, travagances. Weaver had twice been winner uniform in size, and deeply pitted with the of the Oaks, once of the Derby, and for an corrosion of time and damp and mold. A hour the most courted little man in England; centipede scurried out of the heap, and was and von der Goltz, the dashing Uhlan, had forth with trampled on. There was a minute flung two fortunes to the wind inside a year, of tumultuous exclamations, of crowding in, and had been broken for an escapade that of rubbing the dirty metal with wet fingers, was the nine days' wonder of Berlin. of horseplay and boisterousness. Then rou How Kirk envied these four, as day after tine asserted itself. day they came and went, while he himself “Stand back, there! Stand back!” was condemned to a grinding inaction. It “Mr. Wicks?” was unbearable to watch the great gaunt “Sir!" cars leave the ship, and blithely fly across “The officer of the deck will tally off the the prairie in exhilarating freedom; more loads as they come, and will make a note of bitter still to see them return, dusty, panting, The Adventurer 375 sluggish with gold, the grimy pair on the had been fretting Westbrook for some little racing-seat fresh from wonders he was never time. It was but another example of his to behold. Vera was as chagrined as he, and increasing fidgetiness, since Kirk had trained hotly declaimed against her father's restric- Hildebrand into an exact system of book- tion. keeping, by which an account was kept of Their indignation was increased by the every pound used, and the store-list was night- fact that Westbrook, in spite of all that he had ly posted like a ledger. But at this juncture said, himself went up twice, and returned with the proposed examination, so long opposed as the most glowing account of his experiences. unnecessary, now appeared most fortunate. His assumption that he was immune from danger, while they would be sure to attract Luncheon was just over. The afterguard, the thunderbolts, was made the subject of a, under an awning, and with both quarters of fierce and unanswerable argument. But the the ship screened from the glare without, sat old man was inflexible. Vera should not go. drinking their black coffee on deck, and Neither should Kirk. Beauty might storm, lazily smoking and talking. Westbrook was and clench her little fists, and half cry with deep in a game of chess with von Zedtwitz. vexation—but it was no, always no. The Phillips, his long thin legs curled up, half climax was reached when Mrs. Hitchcock, lay in a hammock, humming contentedly to audaciously ignoring Westbrook's prohibi- himself, and occasionally reaching out a hand tion, choo-chooed off with Goltz, and spent a to feel for his cup. Mrs. Hitchcock, her rapturous day in the mountains. This was bonnet awry, and her eyes dancing with the last straw. It was unendurable that the mischief, was pretending to tell Wicks's old lady should achieve this while they re- fortune by his hand. The air was somnolent mained fettered. For nearly seven weeks, with heat. The drone of a concertina was remember, the pair had been confined to the wafted from the forecastle. Under the lee narrow deck of the Fortuna, wistfully eying of the galley, his bread marshaled about to the hills, and longing as only prisoners can rise, Hildebrand was sleeping the sleep of the long for freedom. The exacting old man just, and snoring melodiously. A profound would not allow them to stray from the ship, peace had settled on the ship. The moment nor even to walk up and down beside it. To for flight had come. defy him, in his nervous and highly worked- Kirk slipped away first. As Vera, a minute up condition, would have been to cause a later, rose quietly to follow, her father fixed scene from which they both shrank. But her with his gaze. It was so formidable that The conspiracy dated from Mrs. Hitch- she faltered and stood still. But absorbed cock's return. It was hatched that very in his game it was questionable whether he evening, after Westbrook had turned in. had even seen her. It was a stare of pre- There was no lack of confederates. The occupation, blind and introspective. sympathy of the whole ship was with Kirk “Check king,” he said. and Vera, in their enforced imprisonment She waited till the doctor moved, and then, aboard. If they were to see Cassiquiare at as her father again bent his head to the board, all, time had to be taken by the forelock, as frowning thoughtfully and tugging at his there was already nearly twenty-four thousand mustache, she mustered up all her courage pounds weight of treasure stacked, tier upon and walked away. tier, in the depths of the lazaretto, and the Kirk was waiting for her a dozen steps Inca's hoard above was fast being depleted down the gangway. Below him were Craw- The pair were to get away secretly with Craw- shaw and Henderson beside the car, looking shaw after the midday meal-one of the up expectantly, and smiling from ear to ear. regular times for a car to set out, and the best Vera was hurriedly assisted into the seat be- time, it was judged, for undetected flight- side the former. Kirk clambered up behind. and the others were pledged to distract the Henderson turned over the engine, and attention of the old man. jumped in beside him. There was a grinding Indeed, his whole afternoon was mapped sound of gears, a leap forward, and they were out for him in advance: chess with von Zedt- off. witz, developing photographs with Phillips, a They sped over the plain like an arrow. descent into the hold with Wicks for a rough The air beat deliciously against their faces, stock-taking of the provisions. It seemed a and roared loudly past their ears. The stroke of luck that this last-named matter powerful car, vibrating with an untamed 376 Everybody's Magazine Hill Hill vigor, flung itself forward with an impetuosity him talk when he ought to have concentrated that brought the heart to the mouth. At all his attention on his steering. But he times, intoxicated with motion, Crawshaw would insist on exhaling information in abrupt opened the throttle and seemed to shoot them sentences, turning his head to make sure that into space-easing down again in sudden Kirk heard him. “This was all blasted, terror for his springs. Behind him, holding captain. See that rock? Dislodged from on for dear life, Kirk snatched fleeting up there, and came down like an express glimpses of the Fortuna, and watched her train! This was the hardest bridge of all. diminish in their wake. There was no sign Yes, my idea to build it out, and strut it from of animation on board of her. All was life- beneath. Oh, it's solid, don't worry. Wait less and still. Her slanting masts quivered till you see it from up there, and it'll make in the heat, and her long awnings drooped you dizzy, though! I was let down on a rope, over the recumbent figures below. West- Miss Westbrook. Yes, swinging in the air brook had not detected their escape. with a mallet and cold chisel. Well, some- But as he looked back, Kirk could not help body had to do it, you know." feeling a certain uneasiness as to his own con- And all the while, at a pace that hardly duct in the matter. He almost regretted that ever relaxed, they twisted and turned on their he had not faced up to Westbrook, and boldly upward way. Before long they met Weaver demanded as a right that which he was now and Haines, who, in the second car, had been taking by subterfuge. But such a course, waiting for them at a sort of siding. The successful as it was sure to be, would have engineer explained that this was the regular been at the sacrifice of Vera. And after all, point for the cars to pass, thus insuring to her longing to see Cassiquiare was not a whiteach a clear road in either direction. Here less than his own. He was not the first man there was a short parley to take the new- who had paltered with his conscience and comers into the secret. They were to be sure put his honor in jeopardy to please the to keep their mouths shut about seeing Kirk woman he loved. Not that he put the blame and Miss Westbrook. The ex-jockey grinned on her-God forbid-but he had a sudden, indulgently. He was a perky little man with piercing realization that they were doing a puckered, fox-terrier expression, and an wrong, and might have to pay too bitter a appearance of withered youthfulness. penalty for their escapade. “I don't blyme you," he said, in his He tried to nerve himself to stop Crawshaw. chipped Cockneyese. “It's a plyce to see, He felt a singular tremor of alarm to see the and no mistyke about it. It's like having the ship dwindling so fast behind him. The im- British Museum set out in the grass, and the mensity and loneliness of the scene frightened first time I was up I felt like arsking for a him with a sense of evaded responsibility. check for my umbrella!” What was he doing? What was he risking? Haines gave a little shiver. Good heavens, his rash project verged on the “Anybody may have it for me, captain," disloyal, the dishonorable. But shame, the he exclaimed. “Gad, a fellow's all the time thought of Vera's disappointment, a sort of turning his head like a Zulu was going to embarrassment at showing indecision before jump out at him with an assegai-and as for his subordinates-all withheld the order on this gold business, it's about as gay as passing his lips. Well, he was in for it now. It coal on the orlop deck.” was too late to draw back. And- The two cars parted with a mutual honk- All qualms vanished in the exhilaration of honk of farewell, and the runaways were the ride. Crawshaw handled the car superbly speeding on and up again. Some miles along, and knew the track like the palm of his hand. Crawshaw began to expatiate enthusiastically Little by little the gradients increased; turns about a place they were nearing. multiplied; the backward view showed how “We call it the Lookout,” he said, “though swiftly they were mounting. The Fortuna the Inca's Chair is also one of our names was lost altogether. A scrubby vegetation for it. From there we can look straight appeared; an occasional cactus; a clump of down to the Fortuna, and open out a big part bluish aloes. The fifteen-mile post whizzed of the road we have been coming over. If it isn't the finest view you ever saw, I'd like “Half-way,” ejaculated Crawshaw, sizzling to hear the name of any that can beat it!” round a precipice that allowed them hardly a T hey were soon able to judge for them- foot to the good. It was hair-raising to have selves, emerging from the shadow of rocks H by. The Adventurer 377 and trees, to attain, with delightful unex- We call it that just to give it a name, you pectness, the high bare shoulder of the moun- know. Can't make it out? There, follow tain. Here there opened before them an un- my finger!” impeded view of the hills and valleys that Kirk followed the finger too. separated them from the Fortuna, which, far B oth he and Vera cried out with a simul- below on the carpet of the plain, lay like a taneous exclamation. toy at their feet. Crawshaw stopped the Rising buttress-like against the sky was a engine, and allowed them to gaze without mighty arch, the first outpost of the dead city interruption at the panorama unrolled before beyond. them. The little party drew together, as though in the desolation and immensity of CHAPTER XXV the scene they felt an instinctive need of close human companionship. Kirk had stood on MURMURS of astonishment rose to their higher altitudes, and looked down on scenes lips as the great arch loomed larger. Colos- no less spacious and noble; but these had sal and solitary, fantastically carved with been in countries where men lived, where a hieroglyphs whose meaning had been lost for roof, a terrace, or some sinuous line of rails hundreds, possibly thousands, of years, it had softened the wild and untamed face of towered toward the sky, mysterious, savage, nature. Here, however, in the untrodden awe-inspiring. To the left was a building solitudes of a continent, the spirit had no of vast extent, and of the same crumbling, such solace. A vast loneliness oppressed him, grayish stone, its proportions undiscerni- a profound and daunting peace, a crushing ble and lost in the jungle that everywhere sense of abandonment. hemmed it in; that broke through massive For the first time he appreciated and un- walls; that with snake-like roots pried enor- derstood how Westbrook, more imaginative mous blocks of masonry asunder, and top- than himself, perhaps than any of them, had pled giant pillars off their pediments. allowed a not unreasonable fear to consume Above them could be seen a richly carved him. For a moment he himself quailed, and façade, its bold and primitive design of a his hand on Vera's turned cold. Thought- singular beauty, ennobled as it was by the lessness, he reflected, is the commonest mas- hugeness of its size, and the inordinate amount querade of courage. Yes, he had been of labor that had been lavished on its execu- thoughtless; he had not before realized the tion. The eye caught glimpses of intermina- precariousness of their situation; hundreds ble galleries, pillared and ghostly; of terrace- of miles of scorched and waterless desert di- like projections tottering crazily in the azure; vided them from all help; the smallest disas- of shattered, undistinguishable masses of ter to the Fortuna might easily cost them all stone, tumbled headlong into débris. There their lives. He had a vision of bones bleach- were other buildings frowning down on them, ing in the sun; of sand drifting over skulls as enormous, as crumbling, as weird as the and skeletons. one they skirted. These, too, teased the im- He exerted himself to throw off this som- agination with what was left unseen. There ber humor, and so far succeeded that he was seemed no ordered arrangement at all-no soon laughing and talking in complete for- coherency. They rose as capriciously as getfulness of his oppression. They got on rocks from the sea, fort-like and grim, in a board the car again, and in the best of spirits wild confusion of ruin, but always with the proceeded on their way. tantalizing suggestion that much was with- “Only three miles more," said Crawshaw. held, was hidden, that further mysteries lay “I say, Miss Westbrook, if you'll lean over a beyond, that the most wonderful of all was bit you can get a peep at the Arc de Triomphe. awaiting to be discovered. The final instalment of “ The Adventurer" will appear in the October number. DEWOLF HOPPER, "I:XALTED RULER OF FANDOM." "Fans" and Their Frenzies The Wholesome Madness of Baseball By ALLEN SANGREE With photographs by Heyworth Campbell THE visit of Clark Griffith and his New to-morrow.” Then, struck by a sudden idea, 1 York American Leaguers to the Fed- he suggested to Griffith that if he wanted one eral Prison at Atlanta on the occasion of stanch rooter at the next day's game he their southern practice trip this spring, fur- should write out a pass for the ex-murderer, nished a telling illustration of the intensity of forger, and counterfeiter. the American interest in baseball. I was Griffith, of course, made out the pass, and among the newspaper correspondents that we looked for the released convict with some accompanied the party, and all through the eagerness. There was no difficulty in noting corridors and workshops we marked the his arrival. He came from the top row of yearning with which the prisoners' eyes fol- the grand stand to a seat back of the visiting- lowed the leaguers, some of them moving bench in three bounds, emitting yells of their lips as they tagged off the various dia- peculiar ferocity, and immediately began a mond heroes filing by — Griffith, Chesbro, vicious roast of the New York team:“Rubes!” Elberfeld, and Jim McGuire. Dr. Nye, the “Lobsters!” “Yer can't put 'em over!” Bertillon expert of the prison, explained that “Back to Hackensack!” “They bought the though conversation is forbidden and newspa- empire!” “Run, you ice-wagon!" He had pers are excluded, the prisoners in some mys- every classic anathema, ancient and modern, terious way manage to learn the baseball scores at tongue's tip, and he so rattled New York's each day and even become familiar with the pitching tyro that the big leaguers were names and achievements of renowned players. defeated. As we were passing through the barber- “You're a fine sort of a fan, you are," shop, an employee made such excited gestures jeered Griffith bitterly after the game. “Had with a razor that Dr. Nye stopped and my way, you'd get ten years more. whispered: “That fellow has been in prison Excepting for the loss of his voice, the ex- twenty-six years and his time expires at noon convict appeared to be rejuvenated as he sat 378 “Fans" and Their Frenzies 379 FATHER FARLEY. there red-cheeked, throbbing with life, grinning happily. Not until Dr. Nye explained did he appreciate his blunder. “Cap'n,” he apologized in a wheezy whisper, “take my oath, I never even knowed who was playin'. Yes, sir,” he asserted earnestly, “that's gospel. What I let go"-he tapped his chest—“has been inside o' me twenty-six years, an' it had t come out.” Dr. Nye nodded at the some- what appeased Griffith with understanding sympathy: “It was either this or a spree for him, and the ball game'll do him more good.” Doubtless some thirty-third degree "fan” resents the use of the title for such an illogical crank as the ex-convict. It must, indeed, be admitted in all justice that, although lexicographers have not as yet devoted their acumen to the subject, there does exist a nice distinction among the terms “rooter,” “bug,” and “fan.” Any one may be a rooter if he attends a game only once in a lifetime and yells. A bug, too, need not be a steady patron; his chief requirement is ability to quote data and statistics dealing with averages, games, and players. But the fan—! He is as far above the others as a mahatma above a coolie. To him baseball is sleep, meat, and drink. It becomes a fetish. Having passed through the stages of rooter and bug, the soul of a fan frequently achieves a Nirvana that enables him to express untold passion by a mere eye-glint. Again, he may elect to roar. He is the sublimation of baseball fervor, getting out of it all there is in it. Now, the bug finds difficulty in transform- ing himself into the gorgeous, glittering, butterfly fan. He is too small- minded, cranky, absorbed in details. He is the chap who writes letters to the papers: “It's a wonder to me that you don't get a cigar-store Indian to do baseball for you. He couldn't make any more mistakes. Yesterday that asinine blockhead that calls himself a baseball expert said Dan McGann was born in Tennessee, instead of Ken- tucky. Day before he said Willie Keeler's batting average was.321. It should have been .324. If you want to keep your circulation, better get an expert that can tell a base- hit from a catcher's mask.” Even as a child, irresponsible and uncritical, the rooter blithely pursues his untrammeled course, howling at any- thing and everything—he is only a laborer in the cult, not an artist. It was in complaint of such a one that the New York baseball editors received numerous caustic letters just after Ira Thomas made his first appearance in "fast company” with the Highlanders. Detroit, the visiting team, had scarcely gone to bat when the rooter arose and in a voice blatant as Roland's trumpet, began to root for “ol' Jim McGuire,” who at that precise mo- ment was out in Michigan. “That's him! There he is, same ol' Jim. God bless the old fella’! I knowed him down in Washington—used t'eat at th' same table with him. Well, sir, did yeh see JOHN PHILIP SOUSA. that t'row to second? Great? W'y there ain't another man on earth 'at could do it! An’ say, jest t’ think--he's Who seldom misses a game. "After music, baseball." ON 201 020 Copyright by George R. Luwrence Co. THE BASEBALI. FAXATICS been twenty-five year in th' business. He's rooter; to them the incident was not even th' whole game, Jim is!” worth relating. This was really a serious offense, since Of the nation's fans, those to whom base- “Big” Thomas is perhaps a foot and a half ball has become synonymous with life and taller than McGuire and a score of years freedom, none has been so celebrated as younger. Along about the seventh inning “Hi-Hi ” Dixwell, of Boston and old “Well- when the rhapsody grew wilder, a bug stepped Well,” of New York. When the former down and touched the rooter's shoulder: died he was characterized as Boston's “Say, you, that isn't McGuire ketchin'; it's "most unique citizen." For a generation he Thomas. And if it was McGuire he hasn't had delighted and amused baseball patrons been in the big league but twenty years; you with his high-pitched, staccato “Hi-Hi," said twenty-five.” emitted only upon the accomplishment of Thomas?” questioned the other, not the some especially meritorious play. It was least abashed. “What's his first name?” considered something to boast of that one had “Ira.” been seated “right 'long side of Hi-Hi," and “Good boy, Ira! That's th' way! Make the ambitious novitiates in fandom were ac- it a home! Holy Smoke, look at him run! customed to wait for him to put his stamp of Ain't he th’ candy! What d' I tell you— approval on a throw, hit, or catch before they cleaned th' bases! Thomas! Thomas! joined in. Thomas!” The popularity of old “Well-Well” with Little wonder that the bugs were incensed laymen is undeniable. Verse writers have at this cheap demonstration. But the row long employed his name as synonymous with of fans behind-did they move a muscle? spring. Indeed, it is never reckoned a Hardly! In superb benevolence or perhaps genuine opening at the Polo Grounds unless pity, they silently regarded both bug and the long-drawn, sonorous bass notes, “Well, 380 SALONG BRANN 50 DAN SNEENAX. LEAVING THE POLO GROUNDS IN NEW YORK well, well!” caroming against Coogan's “Andy” bid for the score-card privilege, Bluff, usher in the season. But old “Well- Detroit's crack twirler helped him secure it. Well” has never been regarded as a criterion Rudolph was straightway in a delirium of and his lack of judgment will prevent his ever joy. He slaved to get out the most attractive ranking high among baseball mahatmas. score-card on the circuit, even though he was Another count against him is that in later losing $500 a year. The approach of ruin years he has “well-welled” for the enemy and in nowise daunted his zeal. On the con- the home club indifferently, a breach of trary, when half the Detroit club were crip- ethics that the forty-second-degree fan, who is pled, this astonishing fan volunteered as as- immovably loyal, will not overlook. sistant rubber, and after every game, though A more reliable and praiseworthy celebrity wearied from selling score-cards, he would in the fan cult was “Detroit Andy,” who died pitch in and employ what strength he had left about the same time as “Hi-Hi” Dixwell. in massaging the kinks out of Tom, Dick, and Under his real name of Andrew Rudolph, he Harry. When Andy came to die he was quite was just beginning to be successful in busi- impoverished, yet, like Nathan Hale, he had ness when the baseball mania seized him only one regret—that he could no longer with such relentless grip that he practically shout for the Tigers. abandoned everything in order that he Though fans are bound by no constitution might be in the ball-park day and night. nor code, there is, nevertheless, a hard-and- He attracted attention by his steadfast al- fast understanding among them that a candi- legiance to the Tigers whether they were date for the title must prove himself worthy losing or winning, and his clever advice in some noticeable way. Mere attendance at from the bleachers helped to win many a every game in a season will not suffice; and game. Pitcher Mullin in particular profited many a zealous and faithful enthusiast, fail- by “Andy's” observations, so that when ing to realize this, has suffered under the 381 382 Everybody's Magazine lifelong stigma of rooter or bug. But, like success, fan fame often comes without any effort. DeWolf Hopper, for instance, be- came the high exalted ruler of fandom as a result of reciting “Casey at the Bat.” And not only that—he made a deal of money out of that baseball poem. Other actors of that period, notably Henry E. Dixey and Digby is,” he testified, "the only case of a dog- gone run that has ever come under my ob- servation." Yet even with this authoritative boost, Dixey's baseball fame perished misera- bly at an early age. Taking liberties with a venerable truth, one might say that some persons are born fans, others become fans, and a few have had EVEN IF THEY HAVE TO TAKE THE BABY. Bell, knew more about the game and patron- ized it more frequently than Hopper, but the public did not care to hear of them. Consider what befell Mr. Dixey, who strove to clip away some of Hopper's laurels. On a gala day in Boston he attended the game in a purple-painted barouche accompanied by a party gorgeously appareled. The com- edian also had with him a favorite fox- terrier, which he loved like a child and would not have lost for at least a trifling fortune. In the ninth inning Bill Dahlen, playing short-stop for Chicago, smashed a terrific drive directly at Dixey's carriage. It came with such velocity that the agile terrier had no time to escape. The ball hit him squarely on the head and he tumbled on the green- sward a very dead dog. Next day every news- paper in America told the story, describing the actor's grief, his narrow escape, his de- votion to the national game; and “Pop” Anson, Chicago's captain, after vast mental labor, originated a historic bon mot. “It the honor of being fans thrust upon them. Before the American League was established, half a dozen years ago, there was but one object of devotion and therefore there was less chance than now to gain publicity among all the millions who patronize professional baseball. But with the shifting of famous players from the National to the American League, citizens were called upon to select a favorite, and a distressing upheaval fol- lowed. Husbands and wives parted; lifelong friendships were destroyed; children aban- doned their parents. In Philadelphia and Boston nearly all the illustrious fans attached themselves to the American League. Chi- cago and St. Louis made an even division, But New York, the cradle of baseball, re- mained loyal to the Giants and the National League. For a time it seemed that the in- vaders never would attach any but rooters and bugs, and then, suddenly, in a single game, two deserving fanatics won the degree. I t was the historic contest in the American PHILIO MORRO THE BENCH. Supreme Court Justice McCall on the left. THE BAR. THE "STREET." League when New York lost the pennant to Boston on account of Pitcher Jack Chesbro's anointing the pellet too lavishly. Jimmy Williams fielded a grounder and had he made his throw accurately, the game would have been won by Griffith's team. But as a result of the ball's being wet, he hurled it wild and Boston put the "pie over the coun- ter.” In this awful moment a Fulton Market fish dealer named Edward Leach stood up like thousands of others in agonized contor- tions, a cigar butt in his mouth. In the painful ex- citement he gasped and down went cigar, ashes, and all. Those who have ex- perienced this calamity say that the immediate results are harrowing. But Leach, recognizing the psychologi- cal hour, bore the agony without a groan. “It was nothing,” he declared, "to THE STAGE. Louis Mann, most demonstrative of "fans." 383 384 Everybody's Magazine losing the pennant.” Next day the papers men, and society notables he had small re- printed his picture and the order of Elks nown. He was determined to succeed with raised him to high estate. For the rest of the new league even at a financial loss and be- his life he will be pointed out as a fan. gan by presenting the Yankees with a safe wherein the players might stow their jewelry while on the field. It proved such a trump card that Bell's name went the circuit of the league and now he basks in deathless fame. Few of the gentler sex have had the desire to follow the game closely and fewer still the hardihood to work upward through the degrees of rooter and bug to fandom. In fact, the records mention but two- Helen Dauvrey, who arrived at full honors when she married that Achilles of the "diamond," John: Ward, and Mrs. Charles Wilson, of New York. Wherever the Giants are known, Mrs. Wilson and her son “Buster," mascot of the team, are also known. They are accom- panied by the husband and father, HERMAN RIDDER, OWNER OF THE NEW YORK STAATS-ZEITUNG. Charles Wilson, an extensive real- estate operator, and this trio of It was also in this game that Lawyer fans has traveled the country over, in training Wallace, a university graduate and an able and championship trips, missing only two barrister, first won general recognition. He games at the Polo Grounds in three years. had been casually mentioned during the season as the “Yanks' singing fan,” his hobby being to take position behind the home bench and lead the grand stand in song. For this occasion the lawyer arranged a parody on Auld Lang Syne: We're here because we're here because We're here because we're here. Hardly a masterpiece, but the words and melody were so simple that the whole arena joined in, and if song could have availed, Boston would have been defeated. Lawyer Wallace always occupies the same seat. He not only sings but coaches the home club so cleverly as to be of real service. Pitcher Mullin, of Detroit, admits that Wallace has caused him to lose several im- portant games by his continuous avalanche of song and speech. It required a certain amount of thought and craftiness to dim the luster of Leach and Wallace. But a manufacturer of safes in Harlem, one Edward Everett Bell, evolved an effective idea. Bell had been for many seasons a steady patron of the Polo Grounds, though by reason of the fame there of actors, states- "YOU SEE, THERE ARE NINE MEN ON A SIDE." They have been photographed, caricatured, and “roasted” for their extreme fanaticism, all of which merely amuses Mrs. Wilson, be- cause, as she told the writer, “Except for baseball I should not be alive to-day.” “Fans” and Their Frenzies 385 “Four years ago," runs her story, “I was evidence at Foreshaw Ranch, near Hutchin- quite ill, threatened with consumption. At son, Kansas, last summer. In the midst of the same time Mr. Wilson suffered a heavy the harvesting season all hands quit work to financial loss, and with eight children to rear, see the Joplin and Hutchinson teams fight for things looked desperately blue for us. We supremacy. The owner faced ruin if the crop were not in a position to take a sea voyage, and was not garnered immediately, and he could no other sort of diversion appealed to us, get no other workers. In this extremity the until one day I happened to see the following boss thought of building a huge score-board so verses: that the men might harvest and still read from the most distant fence corners. A "Let's get a bag of peanuts and be boys again and telegraph wire was run from town, a skilled shout For the men who lam the leather and line three- operator received and posted the scores, baggers out: inning by inning, and we have the word of a Let's go out and root and holler and forget that we truthful Missouri sporting editor that “Mr. have cares, Foreshaw's ranch was harvested in jig time." And that still the world has markets that are worked by bulls and bears. The fundamental reason for the popularity Every year they tell us that baseball's out of date, of the game is the fact that it is a nationala But each spring it's back in fashion when they line safety-valve. Voltaire says that there are no up to the plate; real pleasures without real needs. Now a When the good old, glad old feeling comes again to file its claim- young, ambitious, and growing nation needs When a man can turn from trouble and go out to to “let off steam." Baseball furnishes the see the game. opportunity. Therefore, it is a real pleasure. But the outsider comprehends nothing of “We forthwith resolved to turn from our this. “Baseball," he argues loftily, “is a troubles in this way. The result of our game for people whose minds are vacant, experiment sounds like a patent-medicine whose imagination is dull, who, of necessity, testimonial, but it is true that I recovered seek diversion because they have not enough my health, Mr. Wilson his cheerfulness, and soul leavening to be company for themselves. soon after everything prospered.” They remind me of the Southern darky who It is unfortunate that she who was Miss loves to crowd with twenty score of his kind in Alice Roosevelt did not continue her patronage a small space and be sociable.' Briefly, I last year of the Washington club and thus set think baseball is supported by persons in- the fashion for women fans. Instead, Mrs. tellectually poor and somewhat vulgar." Longworth attended only enough to get the In the face of what occurred at the opening name of rooter. A little more persistence game at the Polo Grounds this year, the en- and see what would have happened! Through- thusiast hardly knows how to gainsay this out the length and breadth of this broad land aspersion.. Commissioner Bingham having you could not have found a nagging matron unexpectedly withdrawn all police protec- nor a maid with nervous prostration. “For," tion, a whole army of fanatics-estimated at says a philosopher, “health contributes most 15,000-charged on the field just when New to cheerfulness, and to remain healthy one York was on the point of overhauling Phila- must have the proper amount of daily ex- delphia. What did that throng care for vic- ercise. . . . When people can get no exercise tory or defeat! Who was John McGraw at all, as is the case with countless numbers pleading that he might finish the game, when who are condemned to a sedentary life, there is 15,000 mortal dynamos surcharged with pent- a glaring and fatal disproportion between out- up emotion, energy, and democratic en- ward inactivity and inward tumult. For this thusiasm were bent upon expressing them. ceaseless internal motion requires some ex- selves! This way and that swept the mul- ternal counterpart. . . . Even trees must be titude—fans, bugs, and rooters-pommeling shaken by the wind, if they are to thrive.” one another with cushions, jubilating, yell- Fans, bugs, and rooters are shaken and ing, making a sieve of the welkin-physical- therefore thrive by baseball. The game ly and mentally getting everything “off the furnishes the required "external counter- system.” That is what baseball does for part.” humanity. It serves the same purpose as a Why, even watching the scores will stir the revolution in Central America or a thunder- blood, galvanize the heart, and rid one of storm on a hot day. distemper, a truth of which there was strange In commenting upon Commissioner Bing- 386 Everybody's Magazine ham's threat to close up the baseball parks “Peach! Great!” he yelled. “Wasn't in New York if the managements did not that a corker?” provide their own police protection, two “Nice hit,” agreed the justice, wincing metropolitan editorial writers alluded to base under the blow, “but he should have taken ball as a “harmless” sport. What a weak third base; he had plenty of time.” characterization of the exhaust-valve of a The “rooter's” face broke into grins of ad- great nation's spirit! Do you suppose either miration. “Say, that's what he could. Say, of those editorial pundits ever saw Louis you know this game-you do. You must be Mann, the German character actor, "explode" a fan! What's your name?” at a ball game, casting to the winds all thought “White." of propriety or criticism? Could they know “Mine's Dorgan. Well, White, ol' horse, the brain-storm surging within David B. Hill you certainly know baseball. He'd ought t' from the only outward sign visible—a nervous reached third!” tapping of the fingers? Would they under- Next day the justice was talking with three stand why Senator Winthrop Murray Crane, senators on Pennsylvania Avenue when the ex-Governor of Massachusetts, insists on his rooter and a friend passed. Another thump guests at the Dalton farm playing baseball, on the back and: “Say, White, it was a corker, making the game the principal feature of his eh? But you was right. The papers claim hospitality? Hickman ought twent to third. Well, A sport for the empty-headed? By no s’long." means. One of the country's pioneer fans Instead of administering a rebuke, the jus- was the late Arthur Pue Gorman, who tice, much to his companions' amazement, played professional ball with the old Wash- returned this familiarity with nod and smile. ington Nationals. He lauded the game as a Among the myriad prominent persons who national benefaction and declared that it had make a hobby of baseball-statesmen, phy- added years to his life. It is related of the sicians, clergymen, actors, and financiers Maryland statesman that while watching a Senator Crane has a niche all to himself. thrilling game in Baltimore some exuberant When Governor of Massachusetts he bought spectator unintentionally landed on him such a farm near Dalton ostensibly for raising a mighty fist-blow that Mr. Gorman"took the crops, but the gentlemen of his council on count." The offender was seized and thrown their first visit soon discovered that potatoes down, and though he was screaming apologies, and beans were of secondary importance. he would have been roughly handled had not “I have an idea, my friends," said the Mr. Gorman himself interfered. “Never governor, "that before we start wrangling mind, never mind,” he said; “I might have over perplexing questions it would be a wise done the same thing, I was so excited.” thing to play a game of baseball. If any one And then, how about Justice White, of the has a grouch let him take it out on the ball- United States Supreme Court! Would you and above all things yell yourselves hoarse.” call his a vacant mind? For years this He led his astonished council to a choice eminent American plodded, in company with bit of meadow where was a perfect diamond his associate Justice McKenna and scores of with a grand stand behind the home plate. statesmen, to win the title of fan. But base- Then, to the further amazement of his guests, ball crowds are so democratic that the mere he arrayed his farm employees-Swiss gar- enthusiasm of a national dignitary "gets him dener, Irish hostler, English groom, Danish nothing." He must convincingly prove that teamster-against the members of the council, he grasps the game's transcendent purpose who were thus put upon their mettle. Togged and understands its democracy. There are out in old clothes, they puffed, panted, and per- no honorary titles to fandom even for a spired, ever goaded by their chief, who was in president or a king. fine training. "Run, you Indian!” “Put it Jealously, therefore, the great jurist awaited on him!" "Take a lead!” “Come on home!” his hour, and although it came most unex- Only after full nine innings had been pectedly, he had the acumen to discern it. played did the governor let up. All ranklings, One day he was sitting beside an explosive jealousies, and bitterness having been worked rooter, who was a total stranger to him. Just off on the diamond, there resulted a most as Hickman rapped a two-bagger in right satisfactory conference. field, scoring a couple of runs, the rooter gave Another zealot is ex-Congressman Wads- Justice White a hard thwack on the shoulder. worth, of Geneseo N. Y., whose son, August 387 “Jimmy," Speaker of the New York Assem- When the Chicago and All America clubs bly, played first base on the Yale team. He completed their round-the-world Spalding held the same position on the Geneseo Valley tour in 1880, many distinguished fans of that Club, which was organized and backed by the period, including Chauncey M. Depew, Mark elder Wadsworth and has for years cleaned Twain, Daniel Dougherty, Henry E. How- up everything in the valley. Mr. Wadsworth land, and Erastus Wyman, joined in royally apparently takes keener interest in this ball banqueting the athletes at Delmonico's. club than in cross-country riding, at which In declaring that “civilization is marked, he is an adept. Two years ago the judges at and has been in all ages, by an interest in the the Madison Square bench show waited manly arts, and among those baseball is fretfully for the Geneseo pack of hunting supreme,” it was believed that Mr. Depew dogs to be brought into the ring. Stewards had summed up the case for baseball. But scurried about seeking them, and friends who the champions of cricket, football, polo, or had come to see the pack take first prize boxing might justly dispute this. A better also searched the building for the master, characterization would be: Baseball is chess who was finally found in a far corner demon- with athletics, a constant changing of situa- strating to a reporter how the Geneseo short- tion, a continuous excitement. These feat- stop checked a liner by throwing his glove ures, coupled with the fact that nearly every in the air and then making a double play. man has at some time been a player, the Like Senator Crane and Mr. Wadsworth, game's honesty, its democracy, and—the um- the astute and blithe E. H. Harriman prefers pire, unite to furnish a diversion that fills a to vent his feelings in semi-privacy, and the team that he and his seventeen-year-old son A tonic, an exercise, a safety-valve, base-> conduct near Tuxedo is said to be a “ripper.” ball is second only to Death as a leveler. Mr. Harriman does not play himself, but he so long as it remains our national game, knows the fine points of the game and has America will abide no monarchy, and anarchy long since passed the stage of rooter. will be too slow. August By EDWARD WILBUR MASON THE high gods took the rose's flame of fire; They took the drowsy poppy's breath of sleep; And shaped her woman's soul of mad desire, And lovely languor deep. They gave her for a voice the raptured lark, And set it singing in the quiet hush; They gave the dove to mourn at dawn and dark, And tender hermit-thrush. Rich Cleopatra of the months! a queen She rules the world with sun that southward swings. And see! like asp upon her bosom green, The tiger-lily clings! THE MONEY By RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD Illustration by Edmund Frederick 1 . CAWDER'S wife was giving a dinner party dancing through jungle verdure and calling to the evening I arrived unexpectedly from mind butterflies' wings poised in lazy flight New York; therefore he put me up at the over gorgeous flowers. I pushed through the Berlen Club and left me in his nervous little swinging door into the library. It was large, way, expressing over and over again the hope warm, and quiet. Enough of the arc light of that I would be comfortable. Not to be the street shone through the stained-glass comfortable at the Berlen is not to be human; windows to reveal the dignified and silent whether it is alive with greetings and chattings battalions of books on the highest shelves, and murmurings or whether it is silent, except but the white radiance slanted up, so that the for the gentle crackling of open fires in the lower part of the room was dark and mys- winter or the rustle of wind-blown curtains in terious. midsummer, it is by far the best club—- I was Sitting in a big leather chair I was wonder- about to say, in the world. ing that the upper part of the room should I got back to its doors somewhat after be so light in the sloping radiance from the twelve. Staying up late is most fascinating, window, and then that the lower part, deci- away from home; the streets of a strange city sively marked off, should be so impenetrably are particularly alluring after dark. I re- black, when there came to my ears a long and member that a lazy, feathered snowfall heavy sigh. So powerful a measure of sor- dimmed the lights at the corners, rare glows row and suffering was in this drawing of from window-panes became iridescent, men breath that the entire world seemed ready passed this way and that like shadows through to change its complexion and grow sallow, the storm, cab horses' hoofs beat on the wet and to shiver, just as I shivered. I realized asphalt-clop cloop, clop cloop! The sleeve that the horror in it was not inhuman nor of my overcoat was covered with a marvel of supernatural, which would have made it less intricate little stars, which melted when I terrible, but human and natural, which made stepped into the soft lighted warmth of the it the most vividly fearful sound I have ever club. One could almost imagine a sigh as heard. each slipped away. How life lives at mid- Thinking that my presence had not been night! Dreams become real; reality is like a noticed, for I had come in almost noiselessly, razor blade. The play I had seen became a I coughed. My cough was answered by a memory far astern; it was lost in the joy of movement. a good day's work still farther behind. I, “Oh,” said a voice, “I thought I was being a lawyer, had reorganized a corporation. alone here. It's late, isn't it?" Now it could go ahead on strengthened finan- “Rather late.” My startled answer was cial feet. The manufacturing plant would still in marked contrast to the deliberate, refined be hot and rumbling next week; six hundred tones of the gentleman who, I now knew men would still labor there; something would by his voice alone, sat at the other side of happen there; things would be made! I had the magazine table beyond the thick black- done that. I resolved to go there and see ness. smoke pour out of the chimneys. "Perhaps—since there are two of us here- Sleep was nonsense; it would awake me you would not mind the light,” he suggested. from this rich, fruity midnight life. I thought I could not offer an objection. With the of the library and climbed the stairs. It was snap of the electric fixture a flood of radiance snowing outside, but on the landing was a scampered into the corners of the room. tiger's skin suggestive of Indian sunlight I recognized John Hepplewhite. He had 388 The Money 389 been pointed out to me a few years before, as was not joking with me; I even laughed his tall, distinguished, disconsolate figure had nervously, and he frowned. passed down the gangway of an incoming “But,” I exclaimed, “your family- " steamer. At first glance his features had “Everything is quite well settled," said he. seemed to me strong. His hair was very “My son is all that is left me. A fine fellow thick and white, and carefully brushed so -just through college - Jack Hepplewhite." that it swung down behind his ears, smooth He smiled with pride. His eyes dimmed; as a bird's wing; his skin was firm and his his mouth twitched. “It would be rather nose very pale between red, glowing cheeks, cruel to let him see me go." which were still rounded out in his declining “But there is just one more thing," he years in evidence of a moderate and whole- cried, and threw his head back as if in agony. some life. I am used to observing too super- “I don't know what to do about it. I don't ficially. As I saw him in the club library I know what to do about it.” noticed more. I saw that a lifetime of some He raised himself a little. His fingers sort of regret had dulled his eyes and drawn played a tattoo over a French comic paper his upper lip tight, that a lifetime of some sort on the table. of weakness had made the corners of his “I'll send for her, I think,” he said finally, mouth droop helplessly. I had heard men as if finishing some long debate within his say: “There's Hepplewhite. Nothing to do mind. “There'll be time. What a fearful ex- but take care of his money.” And there, perience for her—so fresh, so fair, so young! in the library, Hepplewhite and I sat face to But I'll send for her. It must be done." face and I did not envy him. “The telephone?” said I. “Can I help “I'm dying,” said he, and folding his long- you?” I thought of the opportunity to call fingered hands, he looked at me steadily. a doctor. I cried out in alarm. You would not “You are too eager, young man,” said he have doubted his word had you heard in his clear voice. “Don't trick me, sir. I him. “What can I do for you, sir?” I ex give you my word as a gentleman that they claimed. could not hold me here until morning. Give He scowled slightly and his eyelids came me your word, sir, that you will not send for down. “You're not a doctor?” a doctor." “No,” said I quickly; "in the law. But Meeting his gaze, I saw that we must play the telephone fair. “I give you my word,” said I, “my “No-no-no!” he cried, raising his arm word to a dying gentleman." He smiled. as if he would oppose my plan with force. “May I engage you as my attorney?" said “Don't let's have any fuss about it. Provi- he." "I will explain to you. Miss Sheridan dence might have sent a doctor with his is at a dance. It is at Mrs. Dennison's res- strychnin, but, in fact, Providence sent a idence. Miss Sheridan is engaged to my lawyer. Providence is kind.” son. Tell the truth. Tell her not to tell “How do you know that you are to die?” Jack. Tell her to come alone. A beautiful, I asked, leaning across the table. noble woman-she has the courage. When He saw immediately what I meant. you come back there is a legal matter— " "Don't let's talk of it,” he said. “It's a hurried to go. I returned, wondering if trouble with a valve in the heart-a fungus I were to find him dead. He was staring growth, a breaking away-a very comfort- straight forward with unseeing eyes. It gave able slipping away—no pain. It happens, me a shock, but he was alive. “She is com- and then two hours later, more or less, there's ing at once,” said I; “she will inquire for a clutch at the base of the brain. Off you you, and I have given orders below that she go! I am not afraid, my dear sir.” I ad- be brought here to the library.” mired him for his brazen physical courage. He nodded. “How many witnesses are He settled himself comfortably in his chair. required for a will?” he asked calmly. “I was reading here at twelve. Then I felt “Two–in this State. Parties not in in- it go. The blood is impeded and accumu- terest." lates at the base of the brain. I preferred “Parties not in interest? She-- ?”. the dark. I turned out the light. Two “Will be a good witness,” said I. He hours' notice. Since then I have been nodded again. It was hard to realize that thinking." something had broken inside him. His It was difficult for me to believe that he cheeks were still so red. 390 Everybody's Magazine "I wish to draw a will,” said he. “I have floor from her bare arms and shoulders. She decided I will depend upon her—Miss Sheri- was indeed a perfect-a strong and beautiful dan. My present will leaves everything to woman. She was breathing like a hunted charities of one sort or another." creature. Her eyes were wide with appre- “Your son?" said I, raising my brows. hension. She uttered a little cry. “I tell you I've decided to leave him to John Hepplewhite rose and stood before her. He gets nothing under the present will. her with bowed head, expressing thus sim- Oh, there are problems! You will under- ply his gentility, his sorrow that he should stand more before we've finished-how I was cause her pain, and his profound affection for lost and how he must be saved from following the girl who had promised herself to his son. me.” John Hepplewhite's weakened mouth Then his old arms opened at the human call drooped; a look of terror came into his eyes, of his failing heart, and I turned toward the followed by redness, then tears. It is a fear window, upon which the sleet was beating a ful thing to see a refined old man go into gentle melody. weeping and shake off his emotion with a I heard the catch in her throat and Hep- body twitching like a horse's in fly-time. plewhite's voice saying jerkily: “It was bet- I realized the need for simplicity, and upon ter to let Jack know afterward, but there is a sheet of club-crested paper from the writing something that you and I must decide to- table I wrote with my fountain pen: gether." I heard him call to me. “Sir, you "I, John Hepplewhite, being of sound are my counselor; allow me to present you to mind, do give and bequeath-" I looked Miss Sheridan.” With courage I turned back up. into the flood of their two personalities. “Everything," said he.. “My will,” said he. I handed it to him “All my estate," I wrote, “real and per- and he wrote his name at the bottom. sonal, of which I am at present or will be in “Miss Sheridan,” said I. She read the future possessed, or of which I have an ex- paper. How her hand trembled and how it pectancy, to my son, John Hepplewhite, Jr. afterward steadied! I took the paper from This is my will and I hereby revoke all pre- her and made my signature beneath hers. vious wills whatsoever.” I confess my hand I remember that, having signed, a sudden re- trembled a little with the tenseness of the gard for the old man's comfort came over situation as I wrote. I read it aloud and I me. The air was heavy. I raised the win- confess my voice was unsteady. Matters dow and through the crack there sifted a seemed to shape themselves out of dream little flurry of snow. stuff. “The last will left nothing to my boy,” “Isn't it necessary to destroy the other?” announced Hepplewhite, regarding her with He looked up in the manner of one who asks close scrutiny. “Not a cent. All to various a silly question. “Generally the more money institutions. You and he would have had a man has to dispose of, the less he knows nothing to begin life upon-absolutely noth- about wills," he explained. ing." “This revokes it," said I. An expression of dismay drew her lips. “I'll sign it, then,” he said. Hepplewhite reached forward from his chair “No,” said I, “only in the presence of both and took her hand. “My love for him,” he witnesses. “She-Miss Sheridan-there is said simply, “that was why." His head, her cab, I think.” A horse's hoof beat hol- white and fine-browed, bent forward over her lowly as a vehicle came to a stop below us. fingers until his lips touched them. “I We spoke no more, waiting, and as we thought I must leave him to poverty, but I waited Hepplewhite's face became distorted will leave him to you." with the stress of some violent emotion. It “From what am I to save him?” she whis- fell easily into the lines of regretful years; he pered. She had dropped to her knees beside seemed to be taking no pains to hide from his chair; a loose end of her gown caught and me some personal disgrace that he had kept the delicate silk ripped with a screech of hidden from all the world till the hour of his pain. going. He was looking beyond the library, into The cab we had heard drawing up before time and space, and his face grew hard with the club did in fact bring the girl. . As she hate. “Idleness,” he choked. Oh, but the came through the swinging door of the li- sound of this word! It became a word of brary into the full light her wrap fell to the tragedy—the nickname of a horror. "FROM WHAT AM I TO SAVE HIM?” SHE WHISPERED. 391 392 Everybody's Magazine “There, there," he continued nervously, How little you who are so young and hopeful “let us all sit down and take it coolly.” He can realize how age chains a man to himself ran his long fingers through his white hair. as he has made himself. A terrible, un- “You, my dear," he went on, looking at her, breakable prison! I realized. And then “be brave for a few minutes. It will not be in agony — truly in agony - I envied the long." There was a convulsive movement mechanic beating rivets with a hammer—the in her throat, a tightening of her lips. man who hoed and leaned down to pick up “I inherited my money,” said John potatoes, the Russian Jew who sewed buttons Hepplewhite, “and it has fed upon itself, and on to clothes, They worked! But if I beat has grown fatter every year. Strange thing rivets or hoed or sewed buttons-mere play, -money. How it works for you! And how mere mockery! Too late, I say! Do you it corrupts! I inherited my money and I hear and do you understand? Too late! was glad, poor fool! I would to God I'd If I could only begin at the other end never had it. And now Jack-.” He again!” paused, and I, glancing up quietly to see if he S o he incoherently strove to voice his elu- were nearing the end, noted his widely ex- sive truth. And the girl sensed his shame and posed eyeballs. ignominy, and caught these ragged edges of “I've done no evil,” he cried. “I've led his awful failure to fulfil his human pur- my life morally. I've been generous. I've pose. She clenched her hands; she held her done no evil.” He turned toward me with breath. his appeal. “But oh, God have mercy- “So," thought I, staring with unwinking I've done no work.” He glared at us eyes over the gay-covered magazines of the grotesquely. His mouth quivered. At the library table, “this is to be his miserable instant he seemed loathsome, and it was going out.” loathsomeness for which there was no ac- He was looking up again, and turned as if counting, he expected to see his own life clutch at him “This is what I've done,” he went on more from behind. The room was very still; a calmly. “I've played hard when my blood clock in the hallway struck half past one with was young—the clean games young men its chimes. play. I've traveled the world. I've col- “The most I ever got out of life was raising lected books and pictures. I've raised fine fine Holstein bulls," said the old man in a animals, horses, dogs, and cattle. I've fitted whisper. “And yesterday Jack told me that out biological expeditions. I've patronized when he was married he would go to raising artists and musicians. But God have mercy, Jerseys. He said it was pleasanter to live I was playing! I've done no work.” in the country. God have mercy on him!" “But-” interrupted the girl with tears He twisted like a wounded animal, holding of compassion in her eyes. Hepplewhite out his thin hands toward the girl. “You raised his head, which had sunk down until understand?” he asked pitifully. his chin almost touched his coat. “I understand,” said she, “for the first “Wait,” he whispered. “I am not through. time in all my life.” And for the first time in I've founded a maternity hospital and given all my own life I, too, understood. scholarships to my college. I've been public- “Make him keep his manhood-make him spirited-that's what men call it. I trusteed dedicate himself!” cried Hepplewhite in a here and trusteed there—a director forty- cracked voice. “For, of all the tragedies, no eight times. A brilliant money figure! But tragedy is like this—living and dying without what have I made? The lure of riches-get a thing done by the sweat of the soul! God me a glass of water from that table, if you will have mercy on me, for I have only played.” sir- I was playing. And God have mercy The girl's soft lips moved; her eyes were on me!” fixed upon the old man, so broken and so The girl's eyes sought mine curiously and sickening with his manhood rotting along the in silence asked me to tell her that he was not roadway of his lifetime. sane, but I knew how sane he was and I could “Now there is Nansen, the surgeon," he not lie to her. I knew that she must bear exclaimed, with tears running down his red the truth. It was his wish. He took the cheeks. He pointed at an empty chair as if glass from me and swallowed the contents. Nansen sat there in person. “Master of the “When I realized all this,” he went on, human digestive system; living and dying a plucking at his chair arms, “it was too late. surgeon, praying at night for knowledge. I The Money 393 am no fit company for you, Nansen! You should be so. Little drafts of air hissed have wrestled with life, but I - We aren't across the window-sill. . the same kind of animal. After a minute, when I and the girl who “And there is Mandervan, too." Hepple- sat shaking beside me had heard the last white pointed again as if Mandervan were struggle in the chair, Hepplewhite raised with us, and smirked in a sickly fashion. himself to an upright sitting posture, and “Mandervan, you've done well as an archi- his face arose out of the darkness, as a face tect. A great reputation. You don't despise might arise out of a quicksand, into the white me, Mandervan, do you? We are both old foggy light. It bore the imprint of inex- members of this club. If it hadn't been for pressible sorrow and disappointment. the money—you understand, I think, I didn't “I fear that I cannot shape my life over have the stimulus to work as you did, Man- again," he said in a cool, even tone and bent dervan. And there are Cawder, and Oliver, his head. One might say he looked sheepishly and Kepple-Oliver with his chemical re- at the floor, and yet he gave the strongest im- search. You had nervous prostration, Oliver, pression that he was already dead. You drank, you played fast and loose with Presently his face, raised above the black- your health, Oliver. Your morals weren't ness, swayed and sank back beneath the sur- very good-remember that. Mine have been face and was lost in oblivion. The leather beyond reproach. Give me the credit for that seat of his chair exhaled air, as the weight of -all three of you. Kepple's a banker. He'll his body fell back upon it. It resembled an give me some credit. Only money? Tell expiring breath. me that Kepple is joking; don't say that he I turned on the light and met only Miss has drawn any damnable distinctions. I'm Sheridan's eyes. No deep perception was getting old and it won't do. Don't look at needed to see what struggle was going on me that way, old friends-old friends with within her; the last will and testament of distinctions-old friends— " John Hepplewhite was crunched up in her He caught at the table, his eyes turning hand and she held it out before her. Both loosely. “Miss Sheridan-Mary, my dear- of us knew the question must be decided at a little water, if you please," he whispered. once-on the moment. “Or you, sir, can get it for me. I will not “If I destroyed it?” she inquired with trouble you long. You are all very good to compressed lips. me. You will take care of my boy, Mary— “There would not be a cent for either of a fine fellow. Do not tell him of this matter you. Work for him for the son—would —that his father's soul left with no sweat of become a matter of necessity.” I watched life upon it. He must be saved from that. her narrowly. I am sure that her judgment I thank you all very heartily. I have been and her courage never really faltered. Her so very, very unhappy.” wet eyes became gradually alive with spirit. The girl rose and put one white, rounded She drew her shoulders back proudly and arm about the old man's shoulders. “Can't faced me with half-closed lids and parted lips. we do anything?" she whispered desperately. “I am no weakling!" she cried, after I had “Can't we make you more comfortable?" waited long for her voice. "I will make the “No, thank you, dear, except perhaps the son prove that great riches are not fatal to light.” My instincts were acreep beneath great manhood. Come, money,” and with my skin, as if he were a snake. “Sit down, both her hands she pressed the crumpled will my girl. Do you mind turning the light out, against her bosom. The color surged back sir? You understand?” I nodded. His into her cheeks; her voice rang clearly forth: manners were irreproachable to the end. “I am not afraid!” With the snap of the electric button the radi- I led her from the library and down the ance scampered back to the table from the far stairs; I called the son and did the other corners of the library, and was gone; once things necessary when a gentleman dies out more the arc light from the street entered and of his bed. But I rendered no attorney's bill slanted up toward the ceiling. We sat in the to the administrator, inasmuch as, for one thickest blackness, while above us, cut off in reason and another, I felt myself already a definite line of demarcation, was a stratum amply enriched by those keen memories that of misty light. Indeed, it was strange that it I have here set down. The Judgment of Eve By MAY SINCLAIR Author of “ The Divine Fire," “ Two Sides of a Question," “Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson," etc., etc. Illustrations by John Wolcott Adams I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea.-Nursery Rhyme. merchant's son, or the lawyer's nephew, or the doctor's assistant, or perhaps it would be JT was market-day in Queningford. Aggie one of those mysterious enthusiasts who some- 1 Purcell was wondering whether Mr. times came into the neighborhood to study Hurst would look in that afternoon at the agriculture. Anyhow, it was a foregone con- Laurels as he had looked in on other market clusion that each of these doomed young men days. Supposing he did, and supposing Mr. must pass through Miss Purcell's door before Gatty were to look in, too; why, then, Aggie he knocked at any other. said, it would be rather awkward. But Pretty Aggie was rather a long time in whether awkward for herself, or for Mr. making up her mind. It could only be done Gatty or Mr. Hurst, or for all three of them by a slow process of elimination, till the em- together, Aggie was unable to explain to her barrassing train of her adorers was finally own satisfaction or her mother's. reduced to two. At the age of five-and- In Queningford there were not many twenty (five - and - twenty is not young in suitors for a young lady to choose from, but it Queningford) she had only to solve the was understood that, such as there were, comparatively simple problem: whether it Aggie Purcell would have her pick of them. would be Mr. John Hurst or Mr. Arthur The other young ladies were happy enough if Gatty. Mr. John Hurst was a young farmer they could get her leavings. Miss Purcell of just home from Australia, who had bought the Laurels was by common consent the High Farm, one of the biggest sheep-farming prettiest, the best-dressed, and the best- lands in the Cotswolds. Mr. Arthur Gatty mannered of them all. To be sure, she could was a young clerk in a solicitor's office in only be judged by Queningford standards; London; he was down at Queningford on his and, as the railway nearest to Queningford is Easter holiday, staying with cousins at the a terminus that leaves the small gray town County Bank. Both had the merit of being stranded on the borders of the unknown, young men whom Miss Purcell had never Queningford standards are not progressive. seen before. She was so tired of all the young Neither are they imitative; for imitation im- men whom she had seen. plies a certain nearness, and between the Not that pretty Aggie was a flirt, and a jilt, young ladies of Queningford and the daughter and a heartless breaker of hearts. She of the county there is an immeasurable void. wouldn't have broken anybody's heart for the The absence of any effective rivalry made whole world; it would have hurt her own too courtship a rather tame and uninteresting much. She had never jilted anybody, be- affair to Miss Purcell. She had only to make cause she had never permitted herself to be- up her mind whether she would take the wine- come engaged to any of her young men. As 394 The Judgment of Eve 395 for flirting, pretty Aggie couldn't have flirted if she had tried. The manners of Quening- ford are not cultivated to that delicate pitch when flirtation becomes a decorative art, and Aggie would have esteemed it vulgar. But Aggie was very superior and fastidious. She wanted things that no young man in Quen- ingford would ever be able to offer her. Aggie had longings for music better than Queningford's best, for beautiful pictures, and for poetry. She had come across these things at school. And now, at five-and-twenty, she couldn't procure one of them for herself. The arts were not encouraged by her family, and she only had an “allowance” on condition that she would spend it honorably in clothes. Of course, at five-and-twenty, she knew all the "pieces” and songs that her friends knew, and they knew all hers. She had read all the romantic fiction in the lending library, and all Queningford would have considered that a young lady who could do so much had done enough to prove her possession of brains. Not that Queningford had ever wanted her to prove it; its young men, at any rate, very much preferred that she should leave her brains and theirs alone. And Aggie had brains enough to be aware of this; and being a very well-behaved young lady, and anxious to please, she had never mentioned any of her small achievements. Nature, safeguarding her own interests, had whispered to Aggie that young ladies who live in Queningford are better without intellects that show. Now, John Hurst was sadly akin to the young men of Queningford, in that he was unable to offer her any of the things which, Aggie felt, belonged to the finer part of her that she dared not show. On the other hand, he could give her (besides himself) a good " JOHN," SITE SAID SUDDENLY. "DID YOU EVER KILL A PIG?" whes Wollen Adaus the works of light popular science, and still lighter and more popular theology, besides borrowing all the readable books from the Vicarage. She had exhausted Queningford. It had no more to give her. income, a good house, a horse to ride, and a trap to drive in. To marry him, as her mother pointed out to her, would be almost as good as "getting in with the county." Not that Mrs. Purcell offered this as an in- 396 Everybody's Magazine ducement. She merely threw it out as a was full of beautiful thoughts, whereas vague contribution to the subject. Aggie John's head was full of nothing in particular. didn't care a rap about the county, as her Then, Mr. Gatty's eyes were large and mother might have known; but, though she spiritual; yes, spiritual was the word for them. John's eyes were small and-well, spiritual would never be the word for them. Then, all of a sudden, without anybody's advice, John was elimi- nated, too. It was not Aggie's do- ing. In fact, he may be said to have eliminated himself. It hap- pened in this way: Mr. Hurst had been taking tea with Aggie one market-day. The others were all out, and he had the field to himself. She always re- membered just how he looked when he did it. He was standing on the white mohair rug in the drawing- OVER THEIR COCOA HE DEVELOPED HIS THEORY OF LIFE. room and was running his fingers through his hair for the third time. wouldn't have owned it, she had been He had been telling her how he had first taken attracted by John's personal appearance. up sheep-farming in Australia, how he'd been Glancing out of the parlor window she could a farm-hand before that in California, how see what a gentleman he looked, as he crossed he'd always set his mind on that one thing- the market-place in his tweed suit, cloth cap, sheep-farming. Because he had been born and leather gaiters. He always had the right and bred in the Cotswolds. Aggie's dark-blue clothes. When high collars were the fashion eyes were fixed on him, serious and intent. he wore them very high. His rivals said that That flattered him, and the gods, for his un- this superstitious reverence for fashion sug- doing, dowered him with a disastrous fluency. gested a revulsion from a past of prehistoric savagery. Mr. Gatty, on the other hand, had a soul that was higher than any collar. That, Aggie maintained, was why he always wore the wrong sort. There was no wrong thing Mr. Gatty could have worn that Aggie would not have found an excuse for; so assiduously did he minister to the finer part of her. He shared all her tastes. If she admired a picture, or a piece of music, or a book, Mr. Gatty had admired it ever since he was old enough to admire anything. She was sure that he admired her more for admiring them. She wasn't obliged to hide those things from Mr. Gatty; besides, what would have been the use? There was nothing in the soul of Aggie that Mr. Gatty had not found out and understood, and she felt that there would be no limit to his understanding. But what she liked best about him was his gentleness. She had never seen any young man so gentle as Mr. Gatty. And his face was every bit as nice as John's. Jonni www Nicer, for it was excessively refined, and John's wasn't. You could see that his head THE BABY NEARLY CHOKE WITH LAUGHTER. "QUACK, QUACKI" SAID ARTHUR, AND IT MADE The Judgment of Eve 397 He had a way of thrusting out his jaw when Young Arthur Gatty, winged by some he talked, and Aggie noticed the singular divine intuition, called at the Laurels the next determination of his chin. It was so power- afternoon. The gods were good to young ful as to be almost brutal. Arthur; they breathed upon (The same could certainly him the spirit of refinement not be said of Mr. Gatty's.) and an indestructible gentle- Then, in the light of his ness that day. There was reminiscences, a dreadful no jarring note in him. He thought came to her. rang all golden to Aggie's “John,” she said suddenly, testing touch. “did you ever kill a pig?” When he had gone a great He answered absently, as calm settled upon her. It was his way when directly was all so simple now. No- addressed: body was left but Arthur “A pig? Yes, I've killed Gatty. She had just got to one or two in California.” make up her mind about She drew back in her him — which would take a chair; but, as she still gazed little time—and then either at him, he went on, well she was a happy married pleased: woman or, said Aggie coyly, "I can't tell you much a still happier old maid in about California. It was in Queningford forever. Australia I learned sheep- It was surprising how lit- farming.” tle the alternative distressed “So, of course,” said her. Aggie frigidly, "you killed sheep, too?” It was the last week in “For our own consumption April, and Mr. Gatty's Easter —yes." holiday was near its end. He said it a little haughtily. On the Monday, very early He wished her to under- in the morning, the young stand the difference between clerk would leave Quening- a grazier and a butcher. ford for town. "And lambs? Little By Friday his manner had lambs?” Jurno bivind chat women become, as Susie Purcell ex- “Well, yes. I'm afraid the SHE LISTENED WITHOUT A SCRUPLE, pressed it, “so marked” that little lambs had to go, too, JUSTIFIED BY HER MOTHERHOOD. the most inexperienced young sometimes." lady could have suffered no “How could you? How could you?” doubt as to the nature of his affections. But “How could I? Well, you see, I just had no sooner had Aggie heard that he was go- to. I couldn't shirk when the other fellows ing than she had begun to doubt, and had didn't. In time, you get not to mind.” kept on doubting (horribly) up to Saturday “Not to mind?” morning. All Friday she had been bother- “Well, I never exactly enjoyed doing it.” ing Susie. Did Susie think there was any “No. But you did it. And you didn't one in town whom he was in a hurry to get mind.” back to? Did Susie think such a man as She saw him steeped in butcheries, in the Mr. Gatty could think twice about a girl like blood of little lambs, and her tender heart her? Did Susie think he only thought her a revolted against him. She tried to persuade forward little minx? Or did she think he herself that it was the lambs she minded most. really was beginning to care? And Susie But it was the pig she minded. There was said: “You goose! How do I know, if you something so low about killing a pig. It don't? He hasn't said anything to me.” seemed to mark him. And on Saturday morning Aggie all but And it was marked, stained abominably, knew. For that day he asked permission to that he went from her presence. He said to take her for a drive, having borrowed a trap himself, “I've dished myself now with my for the purpose. silly jabber.” They went up to a northern slope of the 398 Everybody's Magazine Cotswolds, and during the drive Arthur afterward without thinking of him. A day found a moment when with a solemnity im- that was not only all wall-flowers and violets, paired by extreme nervousness, he asked but all Arthur. For Arthur called first thing Miss Purcell if she would accept a copy of before breakfast to bring her the Browning, Browning's Poems, which he had ventured and first thing after breakfast to go with her to order for her from town. He hadn't to church, and first thing after dinner to take brought it with him, because he wished to her for a walk. multiply pretexts for calling; besides, as he They went into the low-lying Queningford said, he didn't know whether she would fields beside the river. They took the Brown- really care- ing with them; Arthur carried it under his Aggie cared very much, indeed, and proved arm. In his loose gray overcoat and soft hat it by blushing as she said so. She had he looked like a poet himself, or a Socialist, or no need now to ask Susie anything. She Something. He always looked like Some- knew. thing. As for Aggie, she had never looked Aggie's memory retained every detail of prettier than she looked that day. He had the blessed day that followed. A day of spring never known before how big and blue her sunshine, warm with the breath of wall-flowers eyes were, nor that her fawn-colored hair had and violets. Arthur, walking in the garden soft webs of gold all over it. She, in her clean with her, was so mixed up with those delicious new clothes, was like a young Spring herself, scents that Aggie could never smell them all blue and white and green, dawn-rose and John Wol ct adama "NOW, ISN'T IT A PITY FOR YOU TO BE GOING, DEARIE." John Wolcott adams " THERE ISN'T AN UNSWEET, UNSOUND SPOT IN ONE OF THEM." radiant gold. The heart of the young man was quick with love of her. They found a sheltered place for Aggie to sit in, while Arthur lay at her feet and read aloud to her. He read “Abt Vogler," “Prospice," selections from “The Death in the Desert" (the day being Sunday); and then, with a pause, and a shy turning of the leaves, and a great break in his voice, “O Lyric Love, half Angel and half Bird," through to the end. Their hearts beat very fast in the silence afterward. He turned to the fly-leaf, where he had in- scribed her name. “I should like to have written something more. May I?” “Oh, yes. Please write anything you like." And now the awful question for young Arthur was: Whatever should he write? “With warmest regards” was too warm; “kind regards" was too cold; “good wishes” sounded like Christmas or a birthday; “re- membrances” implied that things were at an end instead of a beginning. All these shades, the warmth, the reticence, the inspired au- dacity, might be indicated under the veil of verse. If he dared— "I wish,” said Aggie, "you'd write me something of your own." (She knew he did it.) What more could he want than that she should divine him thus? For twenty minutes (he thought they were only seconds) young Arthur lay flat on his stomach and brooded over the Browning. Aggie sat quiet as a mouse, lest the rustle of her gown should break the divine enchant- ment. At last it came. “Dear, since you loved this book, it is your own—" That was how it began. Long after- ward Arthur would turn pale when he thought of how it went on; for it was wonder- ful how bad it was, especially the lines that had to rhyme. He did not know it when he gave her back the book. She read it over and over again, seeing how bad it was and not caring. For her the 399 400 Everybody's Magazine beginning, middle, and end of that delicate feverishly at shorthand in order to increase lyric were in the one word, “Dear.” his efficiency. His efficiency increased, but “Do you mind?” He had risen and was not his salary. standing over her as she read. Meanwhile, he spent all his holidays at “Mind?” Queningford, and Aggie had been twice to “What I've called you?”. town. They saw so little of each other that She looked up suddenly and his face met every meeting was a divine event, a spiritual hers. adventure. If each was not exactly an un- “Ah,” said Arthur, rising solemn from the discovered country to the other, there was consecration of the primal kiss, and drawing always some territory left over from last time, himself up like a man for the first time aware endlessly alluring to the pilgrim lover. of his full stature, “that makes that seem Wherever Arthur found in Aggie's mind a pretty poor stuff, doesn't it?” little bare spot that needed cultivating, he Young Arthur had just looked upon Love planted there a picture or a poem, that in- himself, and for that moment his vision was stantly took root, and began to bloom as it purged of vanity. had never (to his eyes) bloomed in any other “Not Browning?" asked Aggie a little anx- soil. Aggie, for her part, yielded all the iously. treasure of her little kingdom as tribute to “No. Not Browning. Me. Browning the empire that had won her. could write poetry. I can't. I know that Many things were uncertain, the rise of now." Arthur's salary among them, but of one thing And she knew it, too; but that made no they were sure, that they would lead the difference. It was not for his poetry she loved intellectual life together. Whatever hap- him. pened, they would keep it up. “And so,” said her mother, after Arthur They were keeping it up as late as August had stayed for tea and supper, and said his year, when Arthur came down for the Bank good-by, and gone, Holiday. He was “so that's the man still enthusiastic, you've been waiting but uncertainty had for all this time?” dimmed his hope. “Yes, that's the Marriage had be- man I've been wait- come a magnificent ing for,” said Aggie. phantasm, super- Three days later imposed upon a Queningford knew dream, a purely sup- that Aggie was go- posititious rise of ing to marry Arthur salary. The pros- Gatty, and that pect had removed John Hurst was go- itself so far in time ing to marry Susie. that it had parted Susie was not with its substance, pretty; but she had like an object re- eyes like Aggie's. tired modestly into space. After all, Susie They were walk- was married before ing together in the her eldest sister; for Queningford fields, joms holonna Aggie had to wait when Arthur till Arthur's salary THOUGHTS CAME TO HIM, TERRIBLE THOUGHTS. stopped suddenly rose. He thought and turned to her. it was going to rise at midsummer, or if not “Aggie," he said, “supposing, after all, we at midsummer, then at Lady Day. But mid- can never marry?” summer and Lady Day passed, Christmas “Well,” said Aggie calmly, “if we don't, and Easter, too, and Arthur's salary showed we shall still lead our real life together.” no sign of rising. He daren't tell Aggie that “But how, if we're separated?” he had been obliged to leave off reading the “It would go on just the same. But we classics in the evenings, and was working shan't be separated. I shall get something to The Judgment of Eve 401 do in town and live there. I'll be a clerk, or She turned on him the face of one risen go into a shop or something." rosy from the embraces of her dream. She “My darling, that would never do.” put a hand on each of his shoulders, and “Wouldn't it, though!” looked at him with shining eyes. “I couldn't let you do it.” “Oh, Arthur dear, it's all too beautiful. I “Why ever not? We should see each other couldn't say anything, because I was so every evening, and every Saturday and Sun- happy. Come, and let's look at everything day. We should always be learning some- all over again." thing new, and learning it together. We And they went, and looked at everything should have a heavenly time.” all over again, reviving the delight that had But Arthur shook his head sadly. “It gone to the furnishing of that innocent in- wouldn't work, my sweetheart. We aren't terior. She cried out with joy over the cheap made like that.” art serges, the brown-paper backgrounds, the "I am,” said Aggie stoutly, and there was blue-and-gray drugget, the oak chairs with silence. their rush bottoms, the Burne-Jones photo- “Anyhow,” she said presently, “whatever gravures, the "Hope" and the “Love Leading happens, we're not going to let it drop.” Life" and the “Love Triumphant." Their "Rather not,” said he with incorruptible home would be the home of a material pov- enthusiasm. erty, but to Aggie's mind it was also a shrine Then, just because he had left off thinking whose austere beauty sheltered the priceless about it, he was told that in the autumn of spiritual ideal. that year he might expect a rise. Their wedded ardor flamed when he showed And in the autumn they were married.. her for the tenth time his wonderful con- Aggie left the sweet gardens, the white trivance for multiplying book-shelves, as their roads and green fields of Queningford, to live treasures accumulated year by year. They in a side street in Camden Town, in a creak- spoke with confidence of a day when the ing little villa, built of sulphurous yellow shelves would reach from floor to ceiling, to brick, furred with soot. meet the inevitable expansion of the in- They had come back from their brilliant tellectual life. fortnight on the south coast, and were stand- They went out that very evening to a ing together in the atrocious bow-window of lecture on “Appearance and Reality," an their little sitting-room, looking out on the inspiring lecture. They lived in it again street. A thick gray rain was falling, and a (sitting over their cocoa in the tiny dining- dust-cart was in sight. room), each kindling the other with the same "Aggie,” he said, “I'm afraid you'll miss sacred flame. She gazed with adoration at the country.” his thin, flushed face, as, illumined by the She said nothing; she was lost in thought. lecture, he developed with excitement his "It looks rather a brute of a place, doesn't theory of life. it? But it won't be so bad when the rain “Only think,” he said, "how people wreck clears off. And you know, dear, there are the their lives, just because they don't know the museums and picture-galleries in town, and difference between appearance and reality. there'll be the concerts, and lectures on all Now we do know. We're poor; but we don't sorts of interesting subjects, two or three times care a rap, because we know, you and I, that a week. Then there's our Debating Society that doesn't matter. It's the immaterial that at Hampstead-just a few of us who meet matters." together to discuss big questions. Every Spiritually he flamed. month it meets, and you'll get to know all the “I wouldn't change with my boss, though intellectual people ” he's got five thousand a year. He's a slave- Aggie nodded her head at each exciting a slave to his carriage and horses, a slave to item of the program, as he reeled it off. His his house, a slave to the office " heart smote him; he felt that he hadn't pre- “So are you. You work hard enough.” pared her properly for Camden Town. He “I work harder than he does. But I keep thought she was mourning the first perishing myself detached.” of her illusions. "Some more cocoa, dearie?” His voice fell humbly. “And I really “Rather. Yes, three lumps, please. Just think, in time, you know, you won't find it think what we can get out of life, you and I, quite so bad.” with our tiny income. We get what we put 402 Everybody's Magazine into it-and that's something literally price. The intellectual life had lapsed; but only less, and we mustn't let it go. Whatever for a period. Not for a moment could they happens we must stick to it.' contemplate its entire extinction. It was to "Nothing can take it away from us,” said be resumed with imperishable energy later Aggie, rapt in her dream. on; they had pledged themselves to that. “No; no outside thing can. But, Aggie- Meanwhile, they had got beyond the stage we can take it from each other, if we let our when Aggie would call to her husband a selves get slack. Whatever we do,” he said dozen times a day, “Oh, Arthur, look! If solemnly, “we mustn't get slack. We must you poke him in the cheek like that, he'll keep it up." smile." “Yes,” said Aggie, "we must keep it up.” And Arthur would poke him in the cheek, They had pledged themselves to that. very gently, and say, “Why, I never! What Heavens, how they kept it up! All through a rum little beggar he is. He's got some the winter evenings, when they were not go tremendous joke against us, you bet.” ing to lectures, they were reading Browning And a dialogue like this would follow: aloud to each other. For pure love of it, “Oh, Arthur, look, look, look at his little for its own sake, they said. But did Aggie feet!” tire on that high way, she kept it up for Ar- “I say, do you think you ought to squeeze thur's sake; did Arthur flag, he kept it up him like that?” for hers. “Oh, he doesn't mind. He likes it. Then, in the spring, there came a time Doesn't he? My beauty, my bird!” when Aggie couldn't go to lectures any more. “He'll have blue eyes, Aggie." Arthur went, and brought her back the gist "No, they'll change; they always do. And of them, lest she should feel herself utterly his nose is just like yours." cut off. The intellectual life had, even for “I only wish I had his head of hair." him, become something of a struggle. But, It was a terrible day for Arthur when the tired as he sometimes was, she made him baby's head of hair began to come off, till go, sending, as it were, her knight into the Aggie told him it always did that, and would battle. grow again. “Because now,” she said, "we shall have To-day they were celebrating the first birth- to keep it up more than ever. For them, you day of the little son. At supper that night a know." solemn thought came to Aggie. I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, “Oh, Arthur, only think. On Arty's next And it was full of pretty things for Baby and for birthday" (they had been practising calling me. him “ Arty” for the last fortnight)“ he won't Aggie always sang that song the same be a baby any more.” way. When she sang "for Baby” she gave “Never mind; Arty's little sister will be the baby a little squeeze that made him laugh; having her first birthday very soon after." when she sang “for me” she gave Arthur a Aggie blushed and smiled. She hadn't little look that made him smile. thought of that. But how sad it would be for poor baby not to be the baby any more. There were raisins in the cabin, sugared kisses in the hold, Arthur gave an anxious glance at Aggie in her evening blouse. His mind was not set (Here the baby was kissed crescendo, pres- so high but that he liked to see his pretty tissimo, till he laughed more than ever.) wife wearing pretty gowns. And some of the money that was to have gone to the buy- The sails were made of silver and the masts were ing of books had passed over to the gay made of gold. The captain was a duck, and he cried drapers of Camden Town and Holloway. “You know what it means, dear? We “Quack, quack!” said Arthur. It was shall have to live more carefully.” Daddy's part in the great play, and it made “Oh, yes, of course I know that." . the baby nearly choke with laughter. “Do you mind?” Arthur was on the floor, in a posture of “Mind?” She didn't know what he was solemn adoration somewhat out of keeping talking about, but she gave a sad foreboding with his utterances. glance at the well-appointed supper-table, “Oh, Baby!” cried Aggie, “what times where coffee and mutton-chops had succeeded we'll have when Daddy's ship comes home.” cocoa. For Arthur had had a rise of salary 404 Everybody's Magazine the magazine he was trying to read, not be- cause it interested him in the least, but be- cause it helped to keep the noises out. But the children were clamoring for an encore. “Again, again!" they cried; "oh, Mummy, do do it again!” “Hsh-sh-sh. Daddy's reading.” And Aggie drew the children closer to her, and went on with the rhyme in her sad weak whisper. “If you must read aloud to them, for good- ness' sake speak up and have done with it. I can't stand that whispering." Aggie put down the picture-book, and Arty seized one half and Catty the other, and they tugged, till Catty let go and hit Arty, and Arty hit Catty back again, and Catty howled. “Can't you keep those children quiet?” “Oh, Arty, shame! to hurt your little sister!” At that Arty howled louder than Catty. Arthur sat up in his chair. “Leave the room, sir! Clear out this in- stant!” His weak face looked weaker in its inappropriate assumption of command. "Do you hear what I say, sir?" Arty stopped crying, and steadied his quivering infant mouth till it expressed his invincible determination. “I'll g-g-g-go for Mummy. But I w-w-w- won't go for Daddy. I doeshn't 'ike him.” “Hsh-sh-poor Daddy-he's so tired. Run away to the nursery, darlings, all of you.” “I can't think why on earth you have them down here at this time,” said their father, as the door slammed behind the last retreating child. “My dear, you said yourself it's the only time you have for seeing them. I'm sure you don't get much of them." “I get a great deal too much sometimes.” “If we only had a big place for them to run about in--" “What's the use of talking about things we haven't got and never shall have? Is supper ready?" She raised herself heavily from her sofa and went to see, trailing an old shawl after her. Arthur, by way of being useful, put his foot upon the shawl as it went by. After supper he felt decidedly better, and was inclined to talk. “I met Davidson this morning in the city. He said his wife hadn't seen you for an age. Why don't you go and look her up?" Aggie was silent. “You can't expect her to be always running after you." “I can't run after her, I assure you. I haven't the strength.” “You used,” he said reproachfully, “to be strong enough." Aggie's mouth twisted into a blanched, un- happy smile—a smile born of wisdom and of patience and of pain. “My dear, you don't know what it is to have had six children.” “Oh, don't I? I know enough not to want any more of them." “Well—then—” said Aggie. But Arthur's eyes evaded her imploring and pathetic gaze. He turned the subject back to Mrs. Davidson. A clumsy shift. “Anyhow, it doesn't take much strength to call on Mrs. Davidson, does it?” “It's no good. I can't think of anything to say to her.” "Oh, come, she isn't difficult to get on with." “No, but I am. I don't know why it is I always feel so stupid now." "That,” said Arthur, “is because you haven't kept it up." “I haven't had the time," she wailed. “Time? Oh, rubbish, you should make time. It doesn't do to let things go like that. Think of the children.” “It's because I'm always thinking of them.” They rose from their poor repast. (Coffee and mutton-chops had vanished from the board, and another period of cocoa had set in.) He picked up her shawl that had dropped again, and placed it about her shoulders, and they dragged themselves mournfully back into their sitting-room. She took up her place on the sofa. He dropped into the arm-chair, where he sat motionless, looking dully at the fire. His wife watched him with her faded tender eyes. “Arthur," she said suddenly, “it's the first meeting of the Society to-night. Did you forget?” They had never admitted, to them- selves or to each other, that they had given it up. “Yes,” said Arthur peevishly, “of course I forgot. How on earth did you expect me to remember?” “I think you ought to go, dear, sometimes. You never went all last winter." “I know." “Isn't it a pity not to try a little—just—to keep it up? If it's only for the children's sake.” “My dear Aggie, it's for the children's The Judgment of Eve 405 sake—and yours—that I fag my brain out, as it is. When you've been as hard at it as I've been, all day, you don't feel so very like turning out again-not for that sort of in- tellectual game. You say you feel stupid in the afternoon. What do you suppose I feel like in the evening?" His accents cut Aggie to the heart. “Oh, my dear, I know. I only thought it might do you good, sometimes to get a change; if it's only from me and my stupidity." "If there's one thing. I hate more than an- other," said Arthur, “it is a change." She knew it. That had been her conso- lation. Arthur was not as the race of dream. ers to which he once seemed to have be- longed. There was in him a dumb, undying fidelity to the tried and chosen. From the first, before this apathy came on him, he had hardly ever left her to an evening by herself. He had had neither eyes nor ears nor vcice for any other woman. And though her 'nce had become the face of another woman, and he hated changes, she knew that it had never changed for him. He loved her more than any of the six children she had borne him. “After all,” said Aggie, “do you think it really matters?” “Do I think what matters?”. “What we've lost.” He looked suspiciously at her, his heavy brain stirred by some foreboding of uncom- fortable suggestion; she had been thinking of Barbara, perhaps. “I don't know what you mean." He didn't. The flame in the woman's heart was not wholly dead, because he had kindled it, and it was one with her love of him. The dream they had dreamed together had lived on for her, first as an agony, then as a regret. But the man had passed over into the sensual darkness that is seldom pierced by pain. Of the pleasures that had once borne hin, buoyant and triumphant, on the crest of the wave, none were left but such sad earthly wrecizage as life flings up at the ebbing of the spiritual tide. They had come to the dark shores, where, if the captain wavers, the ships of dream founder with all their freight. A dull light was already kindling under his tired eyelids. “I don't know what you feel like," said he, “but I've had enough sitting up for one night. Don't you think you'd better go to bed?” She went, obediently. A year passed. It was winter again, and the Gattys had had sickness in their house. Aggie had been ailing ever since the birth of the baby that had succeeded Emmy. And one evening the doctor had to be summoned for little Willie, who had croup. Willie, not four years old, was the last baby but three. Yes, he was only a baby himself; Aggie re- alized it with anguish, as she undressed him and he lay convulsed on her lap. He was only a baby; and she had left him to run about with Arty and Catty, as if he were a big boy. She should have taken more care of Willie. But the gods took care of Willie, and he was better before the doctor could arrive; and Aggie got all the credit of his cure. Aggie couldn't believe it. She was con- vinced the doctor was keeping something from her; he sat so long with Arthur in the dining-room. She could hear their voices booming up the chimney, as she mended the fire in the nursery overhead. It was not, she argued, as if he ever cared to talk to Arthur. Nobody ever cared to talk to Ar- thur long, nor did he care to talk to anybody. So when the clock struck seven (the doc- tor's dinner-hour), and the dining-room door did not open, Aggie's anxiety became terror, and she stole down-stairs. She had meant to go boldly in, and not stand there listening; but she caught one emphatic word that ar- rested her, and held her there, intent, afraid of her own terror. “Never!" She could hear Arthur's weak voice sharp- ened to a falsetto, as if he, too, were terrified. “No, never. Never any more." There was a note almost of judgment in the doctor's voice; but Aggie could not hear that, for the wild cry that went up in her heart. “Oh, never what? Is Willie-my Willie-never to be well any more?” Then she listened without a scruple, justi- fied by her motherhood. They were keeping things from her, as they had kept them be- fore-as they had kept them when little Barbara sickened. “And if-if-” Arthur's voice was weaker this time; it had a sort of moral powerless- ness in it; but Aggie's straining ears caught the “if." “There mustn't be any 'ifs.”” Aggie's heart struggled in the clutches of her fright. “That's not what I mean. I meanis there any danger now?" 406 Everybody's Magazine “From what I can gather so far I should “My beauty," she murmured, “he will al- say--none." ways be my baby. He shan't have any little Aggie's heart gave a great bound of re- brothers or sisters, never any more. There covery. —there—there, did they? Hsh-sh-sh, my “But if,” the doctor went on, “as you sweet pet, my lamb. My little king-he say— " shall never be dethroned. Hush, hush, my “I know,” cried Arthur, “you needn't say treasure, or he'll wake his poor Daddy, he it. You won't answer for the consequences?” will.”. “I won't. For the consequences, a woman In another room, on his sleepless pillow, -in the weak state your wife is in-may an- the baby's father turned and groaned. swer herself. With her life.” All the next day, and the next, Aggie went Aggie was immensely relieved. So they about with a light step, and with eyes that were only talking about her all the time! brightened like a bride's, because of the That night her husband told her that her spring of new love in her heart. release had come. It had been ordained that It came over her now how right Arthur had she was to rest for two years. And she was been, how she ought to have kept it up, and to have help. They must have a girl. how fearfully she had let it go. "Arthur,” she said firmly, “I won't have Not only the lectures (what did they mat- a girl. They're worse than charwomen. ter?), but her reading, her music, everything, They eat more; and we can't afford it.” all the little arts and refinements by which “We must afford it. And oh, another she had once captured Arthur's heart- thing— Have you ever thought of the chil- “Things,” she said, “that made all the dif- dren's education?" ference to Arthur.” How forbearing and Thought of it? She had thought of noth- constant he had been! ing else, lying awake at night, waiting for That evening she dressed her hair, and put the baby's cry; sitting in the daytime, stitch- flowers on the supper-table. Arthur opened ing at the small garments that were always his eyes at the unusual appearance, but said just too small. nothing. She could see that he was cross :“Of course," she said submissively. She about something something that had oc- was willing to yield the glory of the idea to curred in the office, probably. She had never him. grudged him his outbursts of irritability. It “Well,” he said, “I don't know how we're was his only dissipation. Aggie had always going to manage it. One thing I do know- congratulated herself on being married to a there mustn't be any more of them. I can't good man. afford it.” Coffee, the beloved luxury they had so long He had said that before so often that Aggie renounced, was served with that supper. had felt inclined to tell him that she couldn't But neither of them drank it. Arthur said afford it either. But to-night she was silent, he wasn't going to be kept awake two nights for he didn't know she knew. And as she running, and after that Aggie's heart was saw that he (who did know) was trying to too sore to eat or drink anything. He com- spare her, she blessed him in her heart. mented bitterly on the waste. He said he If he did not tell her everything that the wondered how on earth they were going to doctor had said, he told her that Willie was pay the doctor's bills, at that rate. all right. Willie had been declared to be a Aggie pondered. He had lain awake all child of powerful health. They weren't to night, thinking of the doctor's bills, had he? coddle him. As if any one had coddled him! And yet that was just what they were to have Poor Aggie only wished she had the time. no more of. Anyhow, he had been kept But now that her release had come, she awake; and, of course, that was enough to would have time, and strength, too, for many make him irritable. things that she had had to leave undone. So Aggie thought she would soothe him to She would get nearer to her children and to sleep. She remembered how he used to go her husband, too. Even at four o'clock in to sleep sometimes in the evenings when she the morning, Aggie had joy in spite of her played. And the music, she reflected with mortal weariness, as she rocked the sleepless her bitterness, would cost nothing. baby on the sad breast that had never suckled But music, good music, costs more than him. She told the baby all about it, because anything; and Arthur was fastidious. Ag- she couldn't keep it in. gie's fingers had grown stiff, and their touch The Judgment of Eve 407 had lost its tenderness. Of their old tricks “Poor Aggie,” he said, “poor little woman.” they remembered nothing, except to stumble She lifted her head suddenly. at a “stretchy" chord, a perfect bullfinch of “It's poor you,” she whispered,“ poor, poor a chord, bristling with accidentals, where in dear.” their youth they had been apt to shy. Ar- thur groaned. “Oh, Lord, there won't be a “Now, isn't it a pity for you to be going, wink of sleep for either of us if you wake dearie? When the place is doing you so much that brat again. What on earth possesses good, and Susie back in another week, and you to strum?" all.” But Aggie was bent, just for the old love of Aggie folded up a child's frock with great it, and for a little obstinacy, on conquering deliberation, and pressed it, gently but firmly, that chord. into the portmanteau. “Oh, stop it!” he cried. “Can't you find “I must go," she said gravely. “Arthur something better to do?” wants me.” “Yes,” said Aggie, trying to keep her mouth Mrs. Purcell was looking on with un- from working, "perhaps I could find some feigned grief at her daughter's preparations thing.” for departure. Aggie had gone down to Arthur looked up at her from under his Queningford, not for a flying visit, but to eyebrows, and was ashamed. spend the greater part of the autumn. She She thought still of what she could do for and Arthur had had to abandon some of the him; and an inspiration came. He had al arrangements they had planned together; and, ways loved to listen to her reading. Her though he had still insisted in general terms voice had not suffered as her fingers had; and on Aggie's two years' rest, the details had there, in its old place on the shelf, was the been left to her. Thus it happened that a Browning he had given her. year of the rest-cure had hardly rolled by “Would you like me to read to you?" before Aggie had broken down in a way that “Yes,” he said, "if you're not too tired.” had filled them both with the gravest anxieties He was touched by the face he had seen, and for the future. For if she broke down when by her pathetic efforts; but oh, he thought, if she was resting, what would she do when the she would only understand. two years were up, and things had to be more She seated herself in the old place opposite or less as they were before? Aggie was so him, and read from where the book fell open frightened this time that she was glad to be of its own accord. packed off to her mother, with Willie and Dick and Emmy and the baby. The“ girls," 0, lyric Love, half angel and half bird. Kate and Eliza, had looked after them, while Her voice came stammering like a child's, Aggie lay back in the warm lap of luxury, and choked with tenderness and many memories. rested for once in her married life. All Aggie's visits had ended in the same And all a wonder and a wild desire . way. The same letter from home, the same “Oh, no, I say, for Heaven's sake, Aggie, firm and simple statement, “Arthur wants me, not that rot.” I must go," and Aggie was gone before they “You—you used to like it.” had had a look at her. “Oh, I dare say, years ago. I can't stand “John and Susie will be quite offended.” it now." “I can't help it. Arthur comes before “Can't stand it?" John and Susie, and he wants me.” Again he was softened. She had always been proud of that-his “Can't understand it, perhaps, my dear. wanting her; his inability to do without her. But it comes to the same thing." “I don't know," she said, “what he will “Yes,” said Aggie, “it comes to the same have done without me all this time.” thing." Her mother looked at her sharply, a look And she read no more. For the first time, that, though outwardly concentrated on for many years, she understood him. Aggie, suggested much inward criticism of That night, as they parted, he did not draw Aggie's husband. her to him and kiss her; but he let her tired “He must learn to do without you," she head lean toward him and stroked her hair. said severely. Her eyes filled with tears. She laid her fore- “I'm not sure that I want him to," said head on his shoulder. Aggie, and smiled. 408 Everybody's Magazine Her mother submitted with a heavy heart. one he was wearing, and she was afraid to let “My dear,” she whispered, “if you had it go another day, lest the wind should turn married John Hurst we shouldn't have had round to the northeast again. In such anxi- to say good-by." eties Aggie moved and had her being. For “I wouldn't have taken him from Susie for the rest she had given the little maid a lesson the world,” said Aggie grimly. She knew in the proper way of showing Mrs. John that her mother had never liked poor Arthur. Hurst into the room when she arrived. This knowledge prevented her from being Mrs. John Hurst arrived a little late. She sufficiently grateful to John for always leaving came in unannounced (for her appearance his trap (the trap that was once to have been had taken the little maid's breath away); she hers) at her disposal. It was waiting to take came with a certain rustle and sweep which her to the station now. was much more important than anything Aggie had only seen her sister, Mrs. John Susie had ever done in the old days when Hurst, once since they had both married. Aggie was the pretty one. Whenever Aggie was in Queningford John Aggie was moved at seeing her. She and Susie were in Switzerland, on the honey uttered a cry of affection and delight, and moon, that for the happy, prosperous couple gave herself to Susie's open arms. renewed itself every year. “Darling!” said Mrs. John Hurst. “Let This year it was agreed that when the me have a good look at you." Hursts came up to Islington for the Grand She kissed her violently, held her at arm's Horse Show, they were to be put up at the length for a moment, and then kissed her Gattys' in Camden Town. again, very gently. In that moment Aggie Aggie was excited and a little alarmed at the had looked at Susie, and Susie at Aggie, each prospect of this visit. Susie was accustomed trying to master the meaning of the other's to having everything very nice and comfort face. It was Susie who understood first. able about her, and she would be critical of Prosperity was very becoming to Susie. She the villa and its ways. And then, it would be was the pretty one now, and she knew it. awkward seeing John. She smiled. It alMarriage had done for her what maidenhood ways had been awkward seeing John. had done for her sister, and Susie was the But when the spring came a new terror was image of what Aggie used to be. added to Aggie's hospitable anxiety, a new But Aggie herself! Nothing was left now embarrassment to the general awkwardness of of the diminutive distinction that had caused seeing John. her once to be adored in Queningford. Susie After all, the Hursts put up at a hotel in was young at two-and-thirty, and Aggie, not town. But Susie was to come over for tea three years older, was middle-aged. Not that and a long talk with Aggie, John following there were many wrinkles on Aggie's face. later. Only a deep crescent line on each side of a Aggie prepared with many tremors for the mouth that looked as if it had been strained meeting with her sister. She made herself tight with many tortures. It was as if quite sick and faint in her long battling with Nature had conceived a grudge against Aggie, her hair. She had so little time for “doing” and strove, through maternity, to stamp out it, that it had become very difficult to "do," her features as an individual. and, when it was “done,” she said to herself “Poor darling,” said Susie under her that it looked abominable Her fingers shook breath. as they strained at the hooks of the shabby A moment later Aggie turned away, found gown that was her “best.” She had found the old coat she had been lining, and spread somewhere a muslin scarf, that, knotted and it on her lap. Susie's eye roamed and rested twined with desperate ingenuity, produced on the coat, and Aggie's followed it. something of the effect that she desired. “Do excuse my going on with this. Ar- Up-stairs in the nursery, Catty, very wise thur wants it.” for six years old, was minding the baby, while Susie smiled in recognition of the familiar the little nervous maid got tea ready. Aggie phrase. Ever since he had first appeared in sat in the drawing-room waiting for her sister. Queningford, Arthur had always been want- Even as she waited she dared not be idle. ing something. But, as she looked at the There was an old coat of Arthur's that she poor coat, she reflected that one thing he had been lining, taking advantage of a change had never wanted, or had never asked for, to milder weather; it was warmer than the and that was help. The Judgment of Eve 409 me." "Aggie,” she said, "I do hope that if you “There are very few who can say that." ever want a little help, dear, you'll come to Aggie tried to throw a ring of robust con- gratulation into her flat tones. Susie, preoccupied with the idea of liberal- “Very few. But there's no one like him.” ity, could not see that she had chosen her “No one like you, either, I should say." moment badly. Her offer, going as it did, “Well, for him there isn't. He's never had hand in hand with her glance, reflected upon eyes for any one but me, never." Arthur. Aggie cast down her eyes demurely at that. “I don't want any help, thank you,” said She had no desire to hurt Susie by reminding Aggie. “Arthur's doing very well now. her of the facts. But Susie, being sensitive Very well, indeed.” on the subject, had provided for all that. “Then,” said Susie, “why on earth do “Of course, dear, I know, just at first, he you break your back over that stitching, if thought of you—a fancy. He told me all there's no need? That's not my notion of about it; and how you wouldn't have him, he economy." said. He said he thought you didn't think Susie vas a kind-hearted woman, but nine him gentle enough. That shows how much years' solid comfort and prosperity had you knew about him, my dear.” blunted her perceptions. Moreover, she had "I should always have supposed," said an earnestly practical mind, a mind for which Aggie coldly, “he would be gentle to any one material considerations outweighed every he cared for." .. other. She knew, and Susie knew, that she had “My dear Susie, your notion of economy supposed the very opposite; but she wished would be the same as mine, if you had had Susie to understand that John had been re- seven children.” jected with full realization of his virtues, be- “But I haven't,” said Susie sadly. She cause, good as he was, somebody else was was humbled by the rebuff she had just re- still better. So that there might be no sus- ceived. “I only wish I had.” picion of regret. Aggie looked up from her work with a re- “Gentle? Why, Aggie, if that was what morseful tenderness in her tired eyes. She you wanted, he's as gentle as a woman. And was sorry for poor Susie, who had lost her there aren't many women, I can tell you, only child. who have the strength that goes with his But Susie had already regretted her mo- gentleness.” mentary weakness, and her pride was up. Aggie bent her head lower yet over her She was a primitive woman, and had always work. She thought she could see in Susie's feared lest reproach should lie upon her speech a critical and vindictive intention. among the mothers of many children. Be- All the time she had, Aggie thought, been sides, she had never forgotten that her John choosing her words judicially, so that each had loved Aggie first. Aggie, with her seven unnecessary eulogy of John should strike at children, should not set her down as a woman some weak spot in poor Arthur. She felt that slighted by her husband. Susie was not above paying off her John's old “I haven't had the strength for it,” said scores by an oblique and cowardly blow at the she; and Aggie winced. “The doctor told man who had supplanted him. She wished John I mustn't have more than the one. And that Susie would either leave off talking about I haven't had.” John, or go. Poor Aggie hardened her face before Su- But Susie still interpreted Aggie's looks as a sie's eyes, for she felt that they were spying challenge, and the hymn of praise swelled on. out and judging her. And Susie, seeing that “My dear-if John wasn't an angel of set look, remembered how badly Aggie had goodness and unselfishness- When I think once behaved to her John. Therefore she how useless I am to him, and of all that he was tempted to extol him. has done for me, and all that he has given “But then," said she magnificently, “I up—-" have my husband.” (As if Aggie hadn't Aggie was trembling. She drew up the hers!) “Nobody knows what John is but coat to shelter her. me. Do you know, there hasn't been one “-why, it makes my blood boil to think unkind word passed between us, nor one that any one should know him and not know cross look, ever since he married me eight what he is.” years ago.” Aggie dropped the coat in her agitation. 410 Everybody's Magazine As she stooped to pick it up, Susie put out an procession of three golden-haired couples, anxious arm to help her. holding each other's hands. First, Arty and Their eyes met. Emmy, then Catty and Baby, then Willie “Oh, Aggie, dear," said Susie. It was and Dick, all solemn and shy. Baby turned all she could say. And her voice had in it his back on the strange aunt and burrowed consternation and reproach. into his mother's lap. They were all silent But Aggie faced her. but Dick. Dick wanted to know if his auntie “Well?” she said steadily. liked birfdays, and if people gave her fings “Oh, nothing—" It was Susie's turn for on her birfday; pausing to simulate a delicate confusion. “Only you said-and we thought irrelevance before he announced that his -after what you've been told— ” birfday was to-morrow. “What was I told?” “Dickie dear,” said his mother nervously, Horror overcame Susie, and she lost her "we don't talk about our birthdays before head. they've come.” “ Weren't you told, then?” She could not bear Susie to be able to say Her horror was reflected in her sister's eyes. that one of her children had given so gross a But Aggie kept calm. hint. “Susie,” she said, “what do you mean? The children pressed round her, and her That I wasn't told of the risk? Is that what hands were soon at their proud and anxious you meant?” work; coaxing stray curls into their place; “Oh, Aggie" Susie was helpless. She proving the strength of the little arms; could not say what she had meant, nor slipping a sock, to show the marbled rose of whether she had really meant it. the round limbs. “Who should be told if I wasn't? Surely I “Just feel Emmy's legs. She's as firm as was the proper person?". firm. And look at Baby, how beautifully he's Susie recovered herself. “Of course, dearmade. They're all healthy. There isn't an of course you were.” unsweet, unsound spot in one of them.” “Well?" Aggie forced the word again “No, no, they look it. They're magnifi- through her tight, strained lips. cent. And they're you all over again.” “I'm not blaming you, Aggie dear. I “Barbara wasn't. She was the very im- know it isn't your fault.” age of her father.” Her love of him con- "Whose is it, then?” quered the stubborn silence of her grief, so Susie's soft face hardened, and she said that she did not shrink from the beloved nothing. name. Her silence lay between them; silence that “Susie,” she said, when the little proces- had in it a throbbing heart of things un- sion had, at its own petition, filed solemnly utterable; silence that was an accusation, a out again, "you can't say you've seen too judgment of the man that Aggie loved. much of them.” Then Aggie turned, and in her immortal Susie smiled sadly as she looked at the loyalty she lied. wreck that was poor Aggie. “No, my dear; “I never told him.” . but I haven't seen quite enough of you. “Never told him? Oh, my dear, you were There isn't much left of you, you know.” very wrong.” “Me?” She paused; and then broke out “Why should I? He was ill. It would again, triumphant in her justification: “No have worried him. It worried me less to matter if there's nothing left of me. They're keep it to myself.” alive.” "But-the risk?" She raised her head. Worn out and “Oh,” said Aggie sublimely, “we all take broken down she might be; but she was it. Some of us don't know. I did. That's the mother of superb children. Something all.” stronger and more beautiful than her lost She drew a deep breath of relief and satis youth flamed in her as she vindicated her faction. For four months, ever since she had motherhood. She struck even Susie's dull known that some such scene as this must imagination as wonderful. come, she had known that she would meet it Half an hour later Aggie bent her aching in this way. back again over her work. She had turned “Hush,” she said. “I think I hear the a stiff set face to Susie as she parted from children.” They came in, a pathetic little her. John had come and gone, and it had The Judgment of Eve 411 not been awkward in the least. He was kind at Camden Town as the Mammon of Un- and courteous (time and prosperity had im- righteousness. The brother had a big house proved him), but he had, as Susie said, no down in Kent; and into that house, though eyes for any one but his wife. it was the house of Mammon, Arthur pro- As Aggie worked she was assailed by many posed that he should be received for a week thoughts and many memories. Out of the or two. He took care to mention, casually, past there rose a sublime and patient face. and by way of a jest after the brother's own It smiled at her above a butchery of little heart, that, for those weeks, he, Arthur, would lambs. be a lonely widower. Yes, Susie was right about her John. The brother was in the habit of remember- There was no weak spot in him. He had not ing Arthur's existence once a year, at Christ- a great intellect; but he had a great heart and mas. He would have had him down often a great will. Aggie remembered how once, enough, he said, if the poor beggar could in her thoughtful maiden days, she had read have come alone. But he barred Aggie and in one of the vicar's books a saying, which the children. Aggie, poor dear, was a bore; had struck her at the time, for the vicar had and the children, six, by Jove (or was it underlined it twice: “If there is aught spir- seven?), were just seven (or was it six?) itual in man, it is the Will.” She had not blanked nuisances. Though uncertain about thought of John as a very spiritual person. the number of the children, he always sent She had dimly divined in him the possibility seven or eight presents at Christmas, to be of strong passions, such passions as make on the safe side. So when Arthur announced shipwreck of men's lives. And here was that he was a widower, the brother, in his Arthur-he, poor dear, would never be ship- bachelor home, gave a great roar of genial wrecked, for he hadn't one strong passion in laughter. He saw an opportunity of paying him; he had only a few weak little impulses, off all his debts to Arthur in a comparatively incessantly frustrating a will weaker than easy fashion, all at once. them all. She remembered how her little “Take him for a fortnight, poor devil? undeveloped soul, with its flutterings and I'd take him for ten fortnights. Heavens, strugglings after the immaterial, had been what a relief it must be to get away from repelled by the large presence of the natural “Aggie?!”. man. It had been afraid to trust itself to And when Arthur got his brother's letter, his strength, lest its wings should suffer for he and Aggie were quite sorry that they had it. It had not been afraid to trust itself to ever called him the Mammon of Unrighteous- Arthur; and his weakness had made it a ness. wingless thing, dragged down by the suffering The brother kept good company down in of her body. Kent. Aggie knew that, in the old abomina- She said to herself, “If I had known John ble Queningford phrase, he was "in with the was like that— " county.” She saw her Arthur mixing in gay She stopped her brain before it could an- garden scenes, with a cruel spring sun shining swer for her, “You wouldn't be sitting here on the shabby suit that had seen so many now stitching at that coat.” springs. Arthur's heart failed him at the last She stitched on till she could see to stitch moment, but Aggie did not fail. Go he must, no more; for tears came and blinded her eyes, she said. If the brother was the Mammon and fell upon the coat. of Unrighteousness, all the more, she argued, That was just after she had kissed it. should he be propitiated-for the children's sake (the Mammon was too selfish ever to It was Easter, three weeks after Susie's marry, and there were no other nieces and visit; and Arthur was going away for a fort- nephews). She represented the going down night, his first real holiday in seven years. into Kent as a sublime act of self-sacrifice, by For some time he had been lengthening out which Arthur, as it were, consecrated his his office hours, and increasing his salary, by paternity. She sustained that lofty note till adding night to day. And now he had worn Arthur himself was struck with his own sub- himself out by his own ferocious industry. limity. And when she told him to stand up He knew, and Aggie knew, that he was in and let her look at him, he stood up, tired as for a bad illness if he didn't get away, and he was, and let her look at him. at once. He had written in his extremity to So, for three days of blinding labor, Aggie a bachelor brother, known in the little house applied herself to the propitiation of Mam- 412 Everybody's Magazine mon, the sending forth of her sacrificial lamb, ram good flannels into a filthy boot cup- properly decked for the sacrifice. There board.” never had been such a hauling and overhaul- “I didn't,” said Aggie, in a strange unin- ing of clothes, such folding and unfolding, terested voice. “You must have put them such stitching and darning and cleansing there yourself." and pressing, such dragging out and packing He remembered. of heavy portmanteaus, such a getting up of “Well,” he said placably, for he was, after shirts that should be irreproachable. all, a just man, “do you think they could be Aggie did it all herself; she would trust no made a little cleaner?” one, least of all the laundress. She had only "I—can't_” said Aggie in a still stranger faint old visions of John Hurst's collars to voice; a voice that sounded as if it were de- guide her; but she was upheld by an immense flected somehow by her bent body, and came belief, born of her will to please, and Arthur from another woman rather far away. It by a blind reliance, born of his utter weari- made Arthur turn in the doorway and look ness. At times these preparations well-nigh at her. She rose, straightening herself slowly, exasperated him. If going meant all that dragging herself upward from the table with fuss, he said, he'd rather not go. But if both hands. Her bleached lips parted; she he had been told that anything would hap- drew in her breath with a quick sound like a pen to prevent his going, he would have sob, and let it out again on a sharp note of sat down and cursed or cried. His nerves pain. clamored for change now; any change from He rushed to her, all his sunken manhood the office and the horrible yellow villa in Cam- roused by her bitter, helpless cry. den Town. “Aggie darling, what is it? Are you All of a sudden, at the critical moment, ill?” Aggie's energy showed signs of slowing down; “No, no, I'm not ill, I'm only tired," she and it seemed to both of them that she would sobbed, clutching at him with her two hands, never get him off. and swaying where she stood. Then, for the first time, he woke to a dreary He took her in his arms and half dragged, interest in the packing. He began to think half carried her from the room. On the nar- of things for himself. He thought of a certain row stairs they paused. suit of flannels which he must take with him, “Let me go alone,” she whispered. which Aggie hadn't cleaned nor mended, She tried to free herself from his grasp, either. In his weak state it seemed to him failed, and laid her head back on his shoulder that his very going depended on that suit of again; and he lifted her and carried her to flannels. He went about the house, inquir- her bed. ing irritably for it. He didn't know that his He knelt down and took off her shoes. Hei voice had grown so fierce in its quality that it sat beside her, supporting her while he let scared the children; nor that he was ordering down her long thin braids of hair. She Aggie about like a dog; nor that he was put- looked up at him, and saw that there was ting upon her bowed and patient back bur- still no knowledge in the frightened eyes that dens heavier than it should have borne. He gazed at her; and when he would have un- didn't know what he was doing. fastened the bodice of her gown, she pushed And he did not know why Aggie's brain was back his hands and held them. so dull, and her feet were so slow; nor why her “No, no," she whimpered. “Go away. hands, which were incessantly doing, seemed Go away.” now incapable of doing any one thing right. “Aggie " He did not know, because he was stupefied “Go away, I tell you." with his own miserable sensations, and Aggie “My God!” he moaned, more smitten, had contrived to hide from him what Susie's more helpless than she. For, as she turned sharp eyes had discovered. Besides, he felt from him, he understood the height and that, in his officially invalid capacity, a cer- depth of her tender perjury. She had meant tain license was permitted him. to spare him for as long as it might be, So, when he found his flannels in the boot because, afterward (she must have felt), cupboard, he came and flung them on to the his own conscience would not be so merci- table where Aggie bent over her ironing-board. ful. A feeble fury shook him. He undressed her, handling her with his “Nobody but a fool,” he said, “would clumsy gentleness, and laid her in her bed. The Judgment of Eve 413 He had called the maid; she went bustling “Thank God,” she whispered hoarsely, to and fro, loud-footed and wild-eyed. From “that you've always loved me." time to time a cry came from the nursery She struggled with her voice for a moment; where the little ones were left alone. Out- and then it came, brave and clear. side, down the street, Arty and Catty ran “Listen, Arthur. I wrote to mother three hand in hand to fetch the doctor, their sob- weeks ago. About this. I've made her bing checked by a mastering sense of their think that it was I who wanted the children, service and importance. always, from the very first. She'll under- And the man, more helpless than any child, stand that I couldn't be happy without a baby clung to the woman's hand and waited with in my arms. It is different. They're never her. quite the same after the first year. Even As he waited, he looked round the shabby Arty wasn't. Mother will understand. She room, and saw for the first time how poor a won't be hard.” place it was. Nothing seemed to have been She had provided for everything. provided for Aggie; nothing ever was pro- If she had not lied— It was her lie that vided for her; she was always providing things proved the extremity of her fear, her fore- for other people. His eyes fastened on the boding. Somehow, in the eight years of his Madonna di Gran Duca fading in her frame. married life, he had never seen this ca- He remembered how he had bought it for lamity in front of him. His dreams had Aggie seven years ago. Aggie lay under the always been of a time when their children Madonna, with her eyes closed, making be- should be out in the world, when he should lieve that she slept. But he could see by be walking with his wife in some quiet the fluttering of her eyelids that her spirit country place, like Queningford. If she had was awake and restless. not lied - He sought for calm words where- Presently she spoke. with to support her; but no words came. He “Arthur," she said, “I believe I'm going clutched at the bedclothes. His eyes were to have a nice quiet night after all. But blind with tears, his ears deafened by the when—when the time does come, you're sound of his own pulses. not to worry, do you hear? And you're to In a moment the eight years were unveiled. go away to-morrow, just as if nothing had He had a sudden vision of Aggie's incorrupti- happened.” ble love and divine tenderness, before his grief She paused. closed over him. “The flannels,” she said, “shall be washed Her eyes were resting upon his. and sent after you. You're not to worry." “I'm not afraid,” she said, “not the least She was providing still. little bit. I'd rather you went away to- “Oh, Aggie-darling-don't.” morrow. I don't-mind-being left.” “Why not? You ought to go to bed, be- But when to-morrow came, it was he who cause you'll have to get up so early to-morrow was left. morning.” He was sitting in the room underneath She closed her eyes, and he watched and Aggie's. He had a pen in his hand, and his waited through minutes that were hours. mind was unusually calm and clear. He It seemed to him that it was another man had just telegraphed to his brother that he than he who waited and watched. He couldn't go, because Aggie was dead. Now was estranged from his former self, the he was trying to write to Aggie's mother to tell virtuous, laborious self that he had once her to come, because Aggie was dead. known, moving in its dull and desolate rou- He had a great many things to see to, be- tine. Thoughts came to him, terrible, cause Aggie was dead. abominable thoughts that could never have All at once he raised his head, he listened; occurred to it. he started up with a groan that was a cry, and "It would have been better,” said this new went from the room. self, “if I had been unfaithful to her. That Up-stairs in the nursery a child's voice was wouldn't have killed her.” singing: As if she had heard him through some spir- I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, itual sense, she pressed his hand and an- And it was full of pretty things for Baby- swered him. and for me, Orealis McGoogin and the Fighting Wallaby By BROUGHTON BRANDENBURG Illustrations by Horace Taylor THERE!” observed Limpy Hawes as he a connectin' cord, anyway. I jest now 1 turned away from the stunned canvas- menshuned the name McGoogin-pore old man, who was slowly crawling out from under Orealis McGoogin, the finest little specimen the parrot wagon where the old trainer's of real red-headed Irish ire I ever seen. His mighty fist had sent him in a heap. “There! name mebbe was Pat, or it might 'a' been You will steal my rub-down alcohol, will you? Dennis or Terry, but no one knowed, for he Go 'long to the canteen and git some real got his name Orealis the first day he jined. licker, you rascally stake-pounder. Drinkin' “Ye see he was green as grass but was up the dope for the camel's rheumatiz! Say, makin' a bluff, specially about critters. Says you pig-brained son of a weak-minded goat, Doc Smith to him: if anybody asts ye, that was a Wallaby "Now there is some strange and delikit wallop I give you. Next time I ketch you in animals with this show. I bet you never even the critter tent, I'll hand you the McGoogin heard of an aurora borealis.' poke. Now, git out and mind that.” "Oi niver hard iv wan iv thim?' says he. I looked at the veteran's face as he sat down ‘Me respicted sir, whoile a-huntin' out West beside me. There was a hard light in his Oi've shot more orealis thin Oi've fingers and eyes, but no other sign of anger did he show, toes, and that same is the livin' truth.' though he had whipped Razzle Fogarty “So they called him Orealis then and there- soundly a moment before. Not even the tone from. But I'm a-goin' too fast, for in this of his voice was changed. I understood some yarn about Orealis and the Wallaby, the thing of his mastery over the men of the show. Wallaby comes first. None of them but dreaded his knuckles. “The Old Man's nephew Artie had been What had interested me most was the short, off snoopin' around where he could spend the sharp, infighting blow that had sent Fogarty most axpense money and show the least re- down and out. It was new to me, and, I sults in new attrackshuns, as usual, and this assumed, was what the veteran meant by particklar time when the dang young dude the Wallaby wallop. And what was the showed up he brung an Austraylian kangaroo. McGoogin poke? I knew better than to ask, This was so fur back that they didn' call 'em but I ventured a lead on the wallop. kangaroos yet, though, an' this one was the "That new one is a good right-handed first that ever come into the show. He was blow," I said. a big feller, seven foot six from tip to tip, “New one? My boy, that punch is as old an’ Artie'd picked him up in Singapore off o' as you be." some British sailor man who had larnt him There was a five minutes' silence; then he how to box and fight with the little gloves sent his quid hurtling over the backs of the they wore them days. He'd got so he could elephant herd and I realized with joy that I go a heap sight faster with his two fists than had provoked one of his rare tales. the sailor man could with both of his 'n' a “Old Staplinghan says, 'Don't rouse me club, and they wanted to sell him. ire,'” he began. “Rafferty says, “Don't “They called him Sockdolager, and I tell wake up me Irish. They both mean one ye what, he was a socker too. You had to and the same. Ire and Irish. If they didn' hit him jest onct on the ear and then, by the name the one for the tother, by heck, there's jumps o’ Juno, you had to be keerful and 414 Orealis McGoogin and the Fighting Wallaby 415 سا کے pick out the soft spots to fall down on; and you had to look out to keep him from breakin' your shins with his tail, too. You know Slicker Allen and Doc Smith ain't neither one no slouches with the gloves, and the day after Artie fetched him to us in Evansville, Indiany, we cleared the smallest round dressin’-tent- all sod under foot it was—and turned Sockie loose in there with a pair of five-ouncers on his paws. By Gosh A’mighty, he chased Early Jim Butts up the center pole in forty seconds, broke a rib for Nonesuch Rafferty, and Slicker Allen and Doc Smith had all they could do to stay two rounds apiece. “By Judas,' says Doc when he come out, 'we got to have a per-fessional. “Well, we hit Cincinnaty the next day, and jest before the parade the Old Man calls the performers, critter wallopers, and razor- backs together and says: “Boys, I want a first-class poogilist to stack up agin my new Fightin' Wallaby, the comin' greatest at- trackshun in this or any other show in this or any other country. Pass the word along when ye're down- town to-day and we'll see if we can scare one out of the tall Ohier grass.' “Well, sir, there wasn' no results by the time the afternoon performancegot goin', but about six o'clock that evenin' Jiggers Dolman, bein' about half sweet-pickled in red-eye, come up from down-town and says he'd found a man, the champeen of all the West. “Champeen pie eater?' says the Old Man sarcasticish. "No, honest, champeen light weight.' “What's his name?' “McGoogin.' “That's the right brand,' says the Old Man. “Go down an' bring him up. “Now, ye see times warn’t jest the liveliest in Cincinnaty, and, as come out in the second bilin' of this wash, Orealis McGoogin had been out of a job so long that a silver dollar looked as big to him as a pearl-handled dish- pan. He was willin' for anythin', but drivin’ pigs in Ireland and a coal cart in Cincinnaty was the limit of his edgekashun in the higher branches of enlightenment. He was Irish, though, as I s'pose you've guessed. “When he was standin' at one end of a bar on lower Walnut Street he hears Jiggers Dolman, who was standin' at the t'other, sayin' to the mixer-man: “D'ye know of a A No. 1, first-class poogilistic gent that wants a job at ten dollars a day fightin' a ferocious wild animal one- fourth rabbit, one-fourth mule, and two- thirds John L. Sullivan? He can hit ye and then jump six foot in the air. Say, do ye?' "Oi do thot,' says McGoogin, comin' up. “And where is he?' “Shure, you're lookin' at 'im.' “Jiggers looks at the size of 'im. "And who are you?' “Champeen McGoogin, unconquisted loight weight of the Wist,' says the Irish- man, makin' a few passes in the air and dancin' around some. “Is that straight?' says Jiggers to the barkeep. “The barkeep, not knowin' nothin,' but bein' agreeable, by nature of his business, to anythin' that didn' cost nothin', says: “Sure, I've never seen him whipped.' “The same, was true. “Well, now, Mc- Googin,' says Jiggers, who couldn'fight a tame clothes-rack, 'don't take no offense at what I say. I'm your friend. But you're durned little, and goldurned worse lookin'—now, now, now, wait till I get through your charms of face is something like those of a mildewed red punkin-whoa-up-stay where you are jest a minnit-but I'm goin' to git you the job. It's with the circus and I'm goin' back to the lot and see the Old Man. You be around here to-night.' “I've told you that the Old Man said to VOT "ARTIE'D PICKED HIM UP IN SINGAPORE OFF O' SOME BRITISH SAILOR MAX." 416 Everybody's Magazine $ skeerce. bring up McGoogin. Well, sir, Jiggers went you'll come purt' near pickin’a man when you down and got him after supper. I was out see one. The minnit I laid my two eyes on by the ticket wagon after the crowd had gone Orealis I knowed that Jiggers Dolman had in and jest then the two of 'em showed up. fetched to the circus-trouble--yes, sir-ee- The Irishman looked like his car- trouble ripe and ready to drop penters had struck when he's. for somebody. But I got to about fourteen. But he was full work. We had to rig up a of spring and bounce. His hair sort of a round cage with pads and beard was about the color on the bars for the two to git of one of them tangerine oranges together in and Orealis had and he had little shiny blue eyes to git a costume. He wouldn' same as one of them lay-me-down- cut his pink whiskers, but it to-sleep dolls. His teeth resembled didn’ make much difference horse-corn on the cob and he shut them days, smooth faces bein' his mouth over them as if they was hard to git all in. 'Peared “The next day was Sunday as though he done it with a draw and the cage bein' ready, I string. He come walkin' up like gets Slicker Allen, who was a bantam rooster, his stummick goin' to do the barkin', and stuck out, his hat on one ear and Jiggers Dolman, an' while his two hairy paws made into fists. everybody else was takin' a “The Old Man, Doc Smith, and mornin' off down-town and some more of the staff, was standin' there out on the river steamboats, we three sets up when Jiggers Dolman fetched in his cham- the cage and gets ready to give the Fightin' peen. Wallaby and Champeen McGoogin their first “This is him, sir,' says Jiggers; 'this is rehearsal. I found an old pair of tights for Mister McGoogin.' Orealis that was a dang sight too big for him. “Well, sir, in about ten minnits they had He kept a-swellin' out tryin' to fill 'em till he's named him Orealis, signed him, scheduled red in the face. We was in the center of the him and the Fightin' Wallaby for the side big animal tent, the four of us all alone by show, and turned him over to me to edgecate ourselves in the echoin' solitude, with the crit- in show larnin'. ters lookin' on. Slicker was backin' the kan- “Sufferin' Jews, ain't he ugly!' says the garoo's box up so as to let him into the Old Man. “But he looks like he can fight. cage, while Jiggers and I was fixin' Ory and Well, if he can, all right-and if he can't puttin' on his gloves. He took one look at well-all right,' and he grins and goes inside. them, then he says: “Now, my boy, when you been handlin' a "Bejee, Misther Hawes, now how the bunch o' critter wallopers as long as I have, divvle kin Oi spit in me ha-ands? “Jiggers give me one pitchus look, and purty soon he pulled me one side. "This is awful,' he groaned. “Somethin' told me he'd never had 'em on before. Don't tell the boys, Limpy, don't tell the boys. Be- sides, the little red-headed fake has borried twenty dollars off me. I been a friend of yours a long time, Limpy. Don't tell the Old Man. You won't see me stuck, now will ye, Limpy? Let's keep him in the game till pay night. I don't care if he gets seven different colors o' black an' blue before that. But keep him in.' “I thunk it over and said I would. Slicker ladn’ heard, an' I didn’ say nothin' to him; I ’uz askeered I'd bust 'f I tried to say any- thin' to anybody. “We let Sock into the cage and tied his gloves on. "HE CHASED EARLY JIM BUTTS UP THE CENTER POLE." Orealis McGoogin and the Fighting Wallaby 417 “Ory looked at him a minnit; then he sweet and bow. Understand? “He will walked clost up to the cage and looked at him now defy danger and dare death-before your agin. eyes.” Then you step back. I open the cage “ Is thot the baste?' door. You jump in. Jump in, you red- “That's the great boxer,' says I. headed whisper of a real man. Right you "And phwat may be the name iv it?' says are. Bing! I shut the door as if I ’uz afraid he, wettin' his lips as if they's dry. the critter would git out. Now you can do "The great Fightin' Wallaby, named the rest. Say, Limpy, I want-a go down- Sockdolager,' says I. town and I'm past all my part; you and “He watched him jumpin' around the Jiggers can finish up.' cage for a minnit. "He'd got Orealis inside and now away he ««« Wallaby!' says he. ‘An' phwat do Oi do went. to him?' “Durn lucky for you,' says I to Jiggers. “Jiggers looked like he was goin' to cry. “The Champeen McGoogin, when he seen “You git in there, put up your dukes, and the door was shut an’ locked and the kangaroo box with him till the a-sittin' up like a gong rings. You rabbit clean on the must fight him hard.' t'other side, squares "Oh, yis, Oi see, off and begins hittin' Oi foight him and smashin' the air ha-ard. Oh, yis, Oi and jumpin' side- will foight him ways. Mebbe he had dommed hard, thot's seen a boxin' match phwat Oi do to him. onct. He kep' it up An' say, Misther about a minnit, then Hawes, phwat will I hollers: he do to me?' “Say, you ain't 66.Gosh only s'posed to try to scare knows,' says I. him to death. Go “Are ye ready, over an' hit 'im.' McGoogin?' yells “He dances a kind Slicker Allen. “All of a sailor's horn- right. Git up here. pipe, makin' a reg'- Now s'pose this is lar buzz-saw out of the platform out in his dukes, all the time front. I'll open up whistlin' through his like this: teeth and edgin' "66"Oh - hoy! Oh- ; nearder and nearder hoy! Blood - stirrin' the Wallaby, who Battle Betwixt Man didn'know jest what and a Boundin', to make of this kind Batterin', Boxin' "I FOUND AN OLD PAIR OF TIGHTS FOR OREALIS THAT o'thing. Purty soon Beast. Champeen the Irishman got McGoogin and the square in front of Wonderful Wallo pin' Wallaby. McGoogin is the critter and—bing!—he swung one on the the victor in a thousand Sangweenary Set-toes beast that landed him agin the bars, smash! in Slashing Style. He has whipped”-say, bang! He hit him in the neck agin, right McGoogin, who have ye whipped? and left, and the poor thing turned a summer- “Oh,' says Ory, careless like, 'most annysault and started away around the cage six wan ye'd loike to minshun.' foot at a jump, goin' "Wenk! Wenk! Wenk!' "The dirty little liar,' says Jiggers to me. “By Gosh Aʼmighty, Orealis had toted “Shut up,' says I. his bluff clean on to the Wallaby. Round "All right,” Slicker Allen goes on, “I'll and round they goes. give 'em a string of names and line out the “Come back here, yez Injy-rubber alliga- Wallaby's prevyus career and then I'll say: tor or whativer yez be. Oi'll “wink” yez,' "" Ladies and gents, I beg to present the yells Ory. 'Come back and foight loike a peerless Cham peen McGoogin.” You smile man.' WAS A DANG SIGHT TOO BIG FOR HIM." ill - - - - TAK " AND STARTED ROUND THE CAGE SIX FEET AT A JUMP, GOIN' WENK! WENK! WENK!'" “Run the t'other way and ye'll meet him, and Tuesday. He really figgered he could I shouts, but jest then the Wallaby lept up on whip most anythin' and seemed kind o the bars and stuck there, and Orealis was peevish with hisself for not havin' found it out cussin' 'im and double-darin' 'im to come sooner. He didn' act nasty, kep' his mouth down and all that, when the Old Man himself 'shut, and minded his own bizzness, but tak’ stuck his head inside. m' oath, when he'd come walkin' inta the “Great! Great!' says he, ‘Old Sock has chuck tent with one o' the Old Man's cigars met his match, eh, Limpy? Stop it, Mc- in his mouth and swingin' a gold-headed cane Googin; remember it's only a poor dumb ani that he said his Cincinnaty follerers had give mal you're fightin' with your superior skill.' him for farewell, he's the finest imitayshun o' “Superior skill! Oh, my golly! hell-on-a-trolley I ever see. “I gets McGoogin out. He was still “Well, sir, Indianapolis got what no other boilin' with scrappin'-steam. town ever got. The old King kept me purty “Mebbe you'd like to have a little spendin' busy, he bein' off his feed, and I only got money before we leave Cincy,' says the Old away when I heard Slicker Allen barkin' like Man. "Come over and I'll give ye a week's a Erie bass freight whistle. advance.' "Oh-hoy! Oh-hoy! Behold the Blood- “And away they went. stirrin' Battle Betwixt the Boldest of Bravos “You go git your twenty,' says I to Jiggers and a Boundin’, Batterin', Boxin' Beast! "Oh, my Crismus,' says Jiggers, shakin' “By the time I got out and round to 'em, his head, jest s'posin' he'd hit the Wallaby he had told 'em all about the kangaroo and on the ear and got him mad, wouldn' it 'a' was introducin' Orealis: been awful?' “Ladies and gents, permit me to present “As I said before, you go git your twenty to your flattered attention the unconquered now,' says I. Champeen McGoogin, holder of the light- “Well, sir, the Old Man was tellin' Doc weight title of the West. The man who Smith and everybody how he seen Champeen whipped Ryan, Roberts, Ransom, Regan, McGoogin finish off the kangaroo and how Reedy, Ruddles, Robinson, Smith, Simmons, the Irishman was the ackshul reality; so that Samson, Solomon, Sturges, Thomas, Tabbits, let Jiggers out. The Old Man orders spe Tertus, Trumper, Tyding, andand-no one cial advertisin' in the Indianapolis papers, knows how many others. OH, the man seein' as how we'd be there Wednesday and whose mighty FIST can fell an Ox, whose Orealis's costume would be ready so the coursing COURAGE crowds his CHEST, champeen could make his dayboo. Nobody whose eagle EYE unerring ESPIES his knowed the real works but Jiggers and me, ENEMIES' embarrassment — OH, ladies and I never seen any man git the respect out and gents—the dashing, daring Champeen the show that that Irishman done Monday McGoogin. 418 Orealis McGoogin and the Fighting Wallaby 419 Sara 1-7 - 2 -.3 Away he went gallopin' around the areny. After him goes McGoogin hot foot, with the crowd yellin', 'Shame! Shame! Fake! Fake! Crool! Crool! “Hey! Hey! McGoogin! McGoogin! This ain't no foot race,' hollers the Old Man, so mad he couldn't stand still. “McGoogin slowed up and the Wallaby squatted clear acrost from him on the t'other side. "Wenk! Wenk!' he says, lookin' around for a hole. “Hit 'im on the ear,' says I quiet-like to McGoogin. “Orealis fiddles over slow, still a-whistlin' through his teeth, and then makes a quick jump and rap! rap! hits the kangaroo twict on the right ear. “My Gosh Aʼmighty! My boy, my boy, that critter pushed out with both gloves, his hind feet off the ground and only his tail touchin’and, tak’m' oath, McGoogin lit clean over in front. Up he got, Irish ire a-poppin' out all over; and, zippity zing! he goes back at Sockie, and I never in all my life see such fast and hard hittin' as them two done, fightin', fightin' all over the place, give and take, until the Mick banged the critter's head agin the bars and then Sockie handed him that short cross jab I give Fogarty awhile ago and, as the hymn feller says: “In hallered rest he laid him down, The peace that noble efforts crown.' "COME BACK HERE, YEZ INJY-RUBBER ALLIGATOR.'" “Now bow and smile, durn ye,' says Slicker betwixt his teeth. Orealis, in a tight fittin' green suit, with his hair plastered down with pomade and white shoes on his feet, steps forward, crooks his knees like a man dippin' for a low bridge and smiles. I don't want-a say that word, but I want ye to know what I mean and I can't tell ye what it looked like “Now he will boldly brave the dire dangers of this dreadful encounter.' “He swings open the door and in pops Orealis. I thought I smelt a familiar breath and turned around. The Old Man had come up beside me to see how things went. “The Wallaby set up jest like a rat in a corner, his eyes shinin' and watchful. When he seen that Mick in the shamrock green suit, he give one pitiful ‘Wenk!'and crowded back agin the bars. He knowed Orealis and was skeered of him, by heck, he was skeered of him. “Don't be crool to the critter, McGoogin,' says the Old Man, as the dirty little bluffer come a-jiggin' around in clost to us, his head down, whistlin' in that funny way through his teeth, his fists goin' and a no-hope-for-ye look in his eye. “One, two, three, and the champeen makes a rush like a bull pup after a cat, and smash! biff! bang! swat! he hit the Wallaby twict in the neck and twict in the stummick before the poor critter could git up his dukes. “Too durn perfessional. Reckon I better git an amateur,' says the Old Man. “Wenk! Wenk!' says Sockie, tryin' to git out backward through the bars. “Smack! Bing! Orealis jabbed him twict in the chest. That was too much for Sockie. IR ani 'st " WITH ONE O' THE OLD MAN'S CIGARS IN HIS MOUTH." 420 Everybody's Magazine “They got the door open in a hurry and carried him out before the kangaroo could begin pulverizin' him with his tail or shearin' off any souvenirs with his scissor teeth. fists the giant couldn't stay more'n three minnits, and twict-onct in Richmond, onct in Savannay~we had to haul him out o' the cage. "That winter the Old Man farmed the kangaroo out to variety, and he was stacked up agin all the best boxers round New York, Philadelphy, and Boston, and he come back in the spring jest a plumb rip-snorter. He was a mighty handy blacksmith and he knowed it. It cost the Old Man three hun- dred a week to git Kid Ryan to leave the stage 'n' come go 'long to hold that dang hop- pin' devil down for two minnits. 'Course it paid, the people goin' jest plumb crazy over the fight. “Well, sir, 'long in July Ryan resigned, sayin' he was sick, and I guess he was. The great Billy Smith took his place, and it was nip-and-tuck betwixt him an' the Wallaby. “One day, somewhere, no one never re- membered where, Ole Hoss Georges was short-handed with the razorbacks, and a feller come along and Ole Hoss put him on haulin' canvas and poundin' stakes. “Say, Limpy,' says Ole Hoss to me that night as we's turnin' in, 'I got a wonder in my gang. He don't show his lines till you look at him twict. He ain't got nothin' to say but he's jest plumb tarnation on the job. He outworked everybody two to one to-day and "THE OLD MAN JEST STOOD STILL AND MADE HIS REMARKS." “The Old Man jest stood still where he was and made his remarks. Tak' m' oath, I've seen him burn the paint offen the side of a buildin' with his langwidge, but this time he jest put out a line of impromptu angel- chasers that made the sparks come out o' my hair same as out of a cat's back. Oh, it was awful, awful, and my nerves is purty strong, ar rrrrizor too. “Well, sir, 'course they was a small Irish- man goin' down-town after a while with a towel around his head and his ears burnin' on the subject of light-weight champeenships and that kind o'glory. And now I got-ta take a little jump in my yarn—to git to the real part of it, which is pertainin' to the Irish and Irishness. "I took the Wallaby in hand after that and I watched him clost till I had that wallop down fine. I got a great big six-foot-six Pennsylvany railroader that'd done some fightin', and seein' as how he had arms on him like a rang-atang, he could outreach Sockie. Sailin' under the name of McGoogin, he finished the season, goin' in and stayin' up agin the kangaroo for five minnits. Come September, Sockie was gittin' so wise with his “HE'S JEST AN ANIMAL AND I HATE TO HIT HIM."" -- . va Hannes aylor 22 hung: Iz Baz “BING! BIFF! BING! THEY PASSES 'EM BACK AND FORTH." he moves like a kitten, he's that smooth and an animal and I hate to hit him.' 'He's got easy. I tell ye he's a wonder.' too much brace with that tail.' 'I don't “Aw, shucks,' says I, 'what's he doin' in want-a be crool,' and so on, they says, but I the stake 'n' chain line if he's such a much?' knowed durn well every one of 'em was glad "Well, you come around and look him to git away. Three days in one week the over. You'll see.' Wallaby was out of the bill and fourth day "Jest out o' curiousness I did go round Ole Hoss comes to the Old Man and says: the next mornin'. The lad—his name was "I got a feller named Henry in my gang, Henry-didn' look much at first peek. He sir, that reckons he can stay in the areny a was sawed off and foolish-lookin', but I couple o' rounds with Sock to-day if you want noticed he jest stuck out in lumps in the right him. places under his dirty old clothes. His head “What! A razorback with this show was cropped over bare to the skin and he willin' to fight that critter! Well, I'll be wore a big black mustache, one o' these reg'lar blamed! Put ’im in and we'll see some fun.' umbrellas fer yer chin. I watched him goin' “Well, sir, that afternoon the Old Man about not sayin' nothin' to nobody and I seen comes by and tells me to come along, and we how easy and clever he handled everythin' goes out. We's a little late and I didn'hear and how he swung a stake sledge, and I Slicker Allen's announcement, but jest step- reckoned Ole Hoss was right. Says I: pin' into the cage was that feller Henry. “I hain't had the pleasure of meetin' Mr. He was in a plain black suit o'tights, and I tell Henry in a soschul way, but let me tell ye, ye what, it was a fine show of muscular de- Ole Hoss, him an' me are goin' to be friends, velopment. He stepped in quiet and easy. if I've got my say, when we do meet.' Old Sockie was growsin' around the t'other “Well, sir, Henry never had no trouble side o' the cage payin' no attention, he bein' with nobody nor nothin'. He never said two dead tired of lickin' new bruisers every day. words a day, but there warn't a man in the All to onct he set up listenin' an' then he show but what give him all the room he jumped around. Henry was whistlin' soft needed. Nobody ever seen him show any through his teeth. Sockie didn' like that. sign of fight, but he'd 'a' had unanimous Maybe it made him think how Orealis had backin', by heck, if he'd ever said 'boo. bluffed him more'n a year before. Anyhow, “Jest about now the Wallaby broke Billy he squares off and looks nasty, and Henry Smith's jaw, and there wasn't no pug uglies edges up to him. we could pick up any place that'd stay for “Biff! The razorback hit the Wallaby more'n one fight with the critter. “He don't right plumb on the ear, and was back out of know nothin' about the rules.' 'He's just reach so quick you could hardly see it. Sock 421 422 Everybody's Magazine give one of his big jumps at Henry, but the “Dom yez. Yez will be tryin' your man wasn't there and Sock got a jim dandy in Owstralian wallops on your betters. Oi've the neck from the side for his trouble. taught yez the McGoogin poke now. How “Great! Great!' says the Old Man. “Jest d'ye loike it?' ' a common razorback, too.' “McGoogin! McGoogin!'hollers the Old “Bing! biff! bing! they passes 'em back and Man. 'What do you know about McGoogin?' forth, jumpin', side-steppin', and racin' 'crost, "Wid the koindly assistance of a little around and 'crost. Sockie was jest crazy trainin' and a bit iv hair-dye on me mustache, and was gittin' the worst of it all the time, but Oi am Hinnery McGoogin, champeen loight- kep' a pushin' into the mix-up. He had got weight iv the Unoited Sta-ates, bejee. Oi've so used to lickin' all creation he couldn' licked 'em all but him and now he's off me understand it. Now they was fair in the moind.' center of the areny and all of a sudden Henry “By jingy hickles! It was McGoogin- stoops a little and pokes in and up like a we didn' call him Orealis this time—and cannon-shot. Over goes the Wallaby—tail what's more, he really was champeen light- or no tail to brace him-and he lit agin the weight, under another name. We looked pads. There he wobbled a minnit, then he him up careful, rememberin' how he'd bluffed begun to holler, 'Wenk! Wenk! Wenk!' and us before. went a-staggerin', jumpin' away around the “Well, sir, no money'd keep him with the cage. show. But it's plain to me his actshul aim “Licked, by thunder!' says the Old Man. had been to git fit to lick Sockie and he'd jest “Say, wasn' that a peach of a poke? That's got to be champeen kind o' on the side. a new one. That man kin stay right with us Well, that's the Irish of it. Havin' got his if he wants to.' aim, he kind o' dropped back and prosperity “Henry was waitin' to see if Sock would was too much for him. Somebody licked come back at him, but he didn', so he says in him next year and I suppose he's keepin' bar thick Irish as he fires his gloves at the pore some place now-or maybe drivin' a coal- critter: cart in Cincinnati.” Oro III NUUWWW tes Mih, OI'VE TAUGHT YI:Z THE McGOOGIN POKE NOW." Real Naturalists on Nature Faking By EDWARD B. CLARK EDITOR'S NOTE.-President Roosevelt's quoted comments on Nature Fakers, in the June EVERYBODY'S, provoked a heated controversy. In this the President did not intend to take any part, except to append a note on the subject to a forthcoming volume of his public papers. But, upon being informed that EVERYBODY'S meant to continue the discussion by presenting a symposium of the opinions of established naturalists on nature faking, he decided to publish the projected note in these columns, as a contribution to the controversy. The sym- posium, which precedes President Roosevelt's article on “Nature Fakers," is made up of the opinions of men who are the most eminent working naturalists in America, and whose positions at the head of our leading scientific institutions, together with their practical work, give to their statements indubitable authority. IN an interview given to me and published misrepresentations of the fake natural history 1 in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE for June, writers. The recent article in EVERYBODY'S President Roosevelt asserted that some of the MAGAZINE expresses my sentiments and those of stories of certain nature writers, although my naturalist friends. Heretofore the actual working naturalists whose lives have been spent vouched for by them as the truth, were fiction mainly in the trained observation of animal life, rather than fact. The retort from one of the have scarcely been heard from in this contro- criticized was that the President was no nat- versy. In view of the outrageous character of uralist and therefore had no right to sit in the claims set up by the fakers, it seems to me judgment. Mr. Roosevelt, however, is a that a kind of symposium of the opinions of naturalist, the best kind of a naturalist, for working naturalists on the subject of the Long his studies have been followed in the field and style of natural history would be of some service not in the closet. Reiteration of this state in putting the matter on its proper basis. I have may be useless for the men who deny consulted various naturalist friends, and they probably will stick to their denials. There are coincide, and express a willingness to furnish material for such a set of statements. men in the country, however, whose right to be called naturalists is of international record. As a direct result of Mr. Nelson's letter, Some of these naturalists have a word to say the opinions of the men who know nature now about nature faking and nature fakers. as it is have been collected and are herewith What these scientists have set forth here is presented. Mr. Roosevelt knew nothing of said voluntarily. Not long ago, in a New the intention of these working field-students England paper, there appeared a statement to say their word of rebuke to those who from one of the writers who had felt the sting falsify nature's records, until he learned of it of Mr. Roosevelt's criticism, to the effect that by accident some time after Mr. Nelson's the President was writing to some of the letter to me was written. ralists of the country to ask from them The contributions from the naturalists are support for his published opposition to nature exhaustive, covering nearly every point in faking. the matter that has been in controversy. I This assertion was absolutely untrue. regret that it is impossible within the space To go straight to the facts in the case, let at command to print these letters in full. me say that, early in June, I received a letter Extracts only are given. The belief is that from Edward W. Nelson, who for nearly they will be found sufficient for their purpose. twenty years has been a field naturalist con- William T. Hornaday, director of the New nected with the Biological Survey. The sci- York Zoological Park, says: entists of the country know Mr. Nelson well. In his letter to me he said this: Contrary to the rule of indignant naturalists generally, I must say a good word for William J. In common with other American naturalists, I Long. His books (of which I have five) have have been much displeased with the persistent furnished me much amusement. His fiction tale na 423 424 Everybody's Magazine judges in the case. They proclaim as facts of their own observation statements as impossible as those of Mr. Long. They attempt thus to de- fend him, but they really show that, while pos- ing as experienced observers, they are not able properly to distinguish the very species of animals they suppose themselves to be writing about-as when in one case a writer attributes to a tree squirrel structural characteristics and habits that pertain only to the ground squirrel. T ouching Mr. Long's theory of the basis of the opposition of the naturalists to his stories, Dr. Allen writes: From his point of view, it is due to his success (commercially) as a writer of nature books: his wares, he claims, are forcing theirs out of the market and they are consequently envious and revengeful, and call him bad names to injure him with the great public to which he so successfully appeals. Unfortunately for this explanation. the naturalists who have watched the incoming of Long with deepest regret and concern, do not write popular books on natural history and are thus in no way his commercial competitors. In their opinion. the Long style of nature books is perniciou pernicious; hence and solely, their opposition. of “Wayeeses, the White Wolf” is on its face nothing but a plain fairy story, and the blunders in it are of little consequence, one way or an- other; but in the other four-modest-looking little school books, selling at forty-eight cents each-he has left “Sinbad the Sailor” and “Baron Munchausen” far behind him. Whenever Mr. Long enters the woods, the most marvelous things begin to happen. There is a four-footed wonder-worker behind every bush and a miracle every hour. His animals are of superhuman intelligence, and the “stunts” they do for him surpass all that have been seen by all the real naturalists of the world added together. fether: Furthermore, his tongue and pen are so plausible and entertaining that thousands of persons now believe in him and swear that what he says “rings true.” Look at L. F. Brown of the Canadian Camp-who writes by the yard about fishing and the woods-writing to the Times to indorse Long! Apparently there is no imaginable intimacy with wild beasts and birds that this gentleman has not struck up. To judge by “Wilderness Ways," "Wood Folk at School," “Ways of Wood Folk," and "A Little Brother to the Bear,” only God himself could know the wild creatures as the Rev. William J. Long claims to know them, and and only the Omnipotent eye could see all the things that Mr. Long claims to have seen. Mr. Hornaday, in his communication, takes up story after story in Mr. Long's books and puts each where it belongs, in the realm of fiction. The bear and her cubs; the car- ibou school; Cloud Wings, the Eagle; the woodcock that set its broken leg; the king- fishers that taught their young to catch fish, and others of the wilderness and waterside characters of Mr. Long's books, are touched upon scientifically, if mercilessly. In closing, Mr. Hornaday says: In my opinion, any board of education which places W. J. Long's books in the schools under its control, or leaves them there after they have found their way in, is recreant to its duty and de- serves severe censure. An unqualified approval of Long's books is, in my opinion, a sure index of profound ignorance regarding wild animals, their mental capacities and their ways. Dr. J. A. Allen, curator of mammalogy and ornithology in the American Museum of Nat- ural History, New York City, entitles his contribution, "The Real and the Sham in Natural History.” In part Dr. Allen says: Omitting for the moment any reference to the many extraordinary things Long has said in his own defense, it has been evident to the naturalist that most of Mr. Long's defenders show by their own statements their thorough incompetence as Edward W. Nelson, who spent four years in scientific explorations in Alaska, who was the Government's scientist accompanying the Corwin during her cruise on the Arctic search for the Jeannette, and who has studied the birds and beasts in nearly every North Amer- ican and Central American field, calls the writers whom President Roosevelt condemned, “the animal novelists." He says: A number of the so-called nature writers have earned the hearty contempt of all naturalists and others who know and love the truth, by their per- sistence in claiming the exact truthfulness of every detail in their exaggerated animal novels. The animal heroes of these tales are often cred- ited with sentiments which exist only among the more cultivated members of the human race. They are credited also with a marvelous degree of wisdom and prowess. Even granting the im- possible and accepting the animals as described, there follows the necessity of believing in the equally amazing powers apparently possessed by these writers alone—that of getting at will into the closest and most intimate and prolonged com- panionship with even the shyest of the wood folk. No such birds and beasts as appear in these books have been met by any of my many naturalist and hunting friends nor by myself, in all our wander- ings from Arctic to tropic America; and yet the least of these writers must be able, if taken at his word, to find them on almost any vacation inorn- ing. Real Naturalists on Nature Faking 425 widely introduced as reading books in public schools, and, knowing the importance of early im- pressions, he believes children should have the truth, and not fiction in the guise of truth. If good stories merely are wanted, we have Kipling, and no nature writer, me judice, has succeeded so well as Kipling in “ 'Er Majesty's Servants” in apparently looking at the world through the eyes of animals. A man holding an important position in a West- ern school said that although the “humanizers" might be wrong in their statements, he would use their books in teaching natural history on account of their interest. It so happens that this same man is a teacher of history, and one cannot but wonder if he considers that the same rule applies to his own branch of study. Personally, “I'd rather not know so much than know so many things that ain't so." move The claims made by the authors of these won der tales of having actually witnessed such re- markable doings, may be accounted for in one of two ways: either the animal novelists have the mystic power of creating about them a wonder- land in which the ordinary birds and beasts be- come gifted beyond the gifts of men, or they are overworking their imaginative powers. ... . The attractive style of some of the writers of false natural history gives their books a wide popu- larity. This renders it the more imperative that all who know the truth and who care for honest nature study or for literary honesty should raise their voices against such writings. Dr. C. Hart Merriam, who has been chief of the United States Biological Survey since the year 1885, writing on “The Rev. W. J. Long and His Nature Fables,” says: After prolonged study, I have at length hit upon what I flatter myself is the real secret of the proc- ess by which W. J. Long endows animals with new cunning and new habits. The Rev. Dr. Long is possessed of that rare gift which Dr. Carroll D. Wright called the Creative Memory. Now, the Creative Memory is not taught in the schools. Its germ is inborn and susceptible of development. A nature writer blessed with the Creative Memory does not have to go about wasting val- uable time waiting and watching for animals to appear and do something. For him it is quite sufficient to walk in the woods or fields until an animal is seen, or, if the animal is shy, until its track or other evidence of its presence is en- countered. He may then hie homeward with the assurance that the Creative Memory will do the rest. For when he is ready to write, all he has to do is to press his finger on the proper cerebral button and set the Creative Memory going. This tells him promptly, and with the minutest atten- tion to details, just what the animal did, when, where, and under what circumstances, and what it was thinking about before and afterward. Frederick A. Lucas, curator-in-chief of the Museums of Brooklyn Institute, uses the word “humanizer" instead of "faker” for the writers of certain kinds of nature books, and discusses the difference between the human izer and the real naturalist. At the close of his article, the Brooklyn scientist writes this: “Well,” says the reader, "after all, if the writer of nature books does make statements of doubt- ful accuracy, what harm is done?" Now in spite of the depravity of the age, of which we read so much in the daily papers, there is a general impression that it is best to tell the truth, and the naturalist merely asks that "nature books" shall present facts, and not give any one's ideas or im- pressions as being facts. He regards this as an important matter, since these books are being Barton W. Evermann, who is the author of a number of standard works on the fishes of North America and who is in charge of the scientific inquiry department of the United States Bureau of Fisheries, takes strong exception to several of William J. Long's salmon stories. Of one of them he says: In the National Bureau of Fisheries and in various State Fish Commissions are many fish- culturists and naturalists, men trained in the methods of science and skilled as observers, who have for years been studying the Atlantic salmon and the other species of the salmon family. They have studied the adult fish in the streams and on their spawning-beds and have hatched millions upon millions of salmon eggs in fish hatcheries. They have also watched the eggs hatching in the streams and have followed the migrating fish from salt water to their spawning-beds far toward the head-waters of our northern streams. They have camped on these streams for weeks and months solely for the purpose of learning the habits of the salmon, which they watched day and night. ... So regularly and carefully are these ob- servations made and so frequently has each one of them been repeated and verified, that these fish-culturists and naturalists have come to be- lieve that they know fairly well the facts in the life-history of the salmon. But it has remained for Mr. Long, a man evidently wholly unfamiliar with the methods of science and equally untrained in the methods of accurate observation, to see many things in the life-history of the Atlantic salmon which no fish- culturist ever saw or believes to be true. Salmon have hitherto not been regarded as possessed of any great amount of wisdom or common sense. Yet Mr. Long has evidently found them otherwise. Only a few of the as- tonishing things which his salmon do can be mentioned here. When ascending a stream and encountering a fall, before attempting to ascend 426 Everybody's Magazine it, they first jump out of the water a few times- simply" to get a good look at the falls” and pick out the best place to make the try, "to study the place and see where they must strike in order to succeed." Later, the salmon “springs out, flies in a great arc up to the rim of the falls, just touches the falling sheet, plunges over the brim, and disappears ... into the swift water above." And the place selected was where the “water was thinnest, so that his tail could strike the rock beneath, and, like a bent spring, recoil from under him.” And if, perchance, he knocks off a few scales, and bacteria get into the wound, he at once turns tail and starts for salt water, knowing, wise being that he is, that a salt-water bath will kill the bacteria and heal the wound; and, further, “he feels within him the need of recuperation," that he may have strength to perform the long journey to the sea, so he begins eating everything in sight, a thing which, according to our author, he never does unless injured! On the spawning-bed the female deposits her eggs and the male carefully covers them to “keep the current from washing them away.” Fish- culturists have found that the covering of the eggs is a purely incidental result of other acts. Then follows a marvelous account of the development of the little salmon in the egg. “Beginning his life with hunger, he had first eaten all that was left inside the egg besides himself, and was nibbling at the shell when it broke and let him out. . . . As the egg-shell wavered on his tail he whirled like a wink and swallowed it !” Fish-culturists tell us that salmon come out of the egg tail first, not head first, and that they are totally unable to eat until many days after hatching. The salmon that Mr. Long saw must, indeed, have been an exceptional and remarkable salmon. We are glad William J. Long saw it; for if we had seen it, we should not have believed it. But Dr. Long says that he saw it, and that "every smallest incident is as true as careful and accurate observation can make it." recent tale of the Newfoundland wolf will prove amusing, if not instructive. Here is what he says: “We came careening in through the tickle of Harbor Woe. There, in a disconsolate, rock- bound refuge of the Newfoundland coast, the Wild Duck swung to her anchor ... while far away, like a vague shadow, a handful of gray houses hung like barnacles to the base of the great bare hill . . . A long interval of profound silence had passed, and I could just make out the circle of dogs sitting on their tails, on the open shore, when suddenly faint and far away an unearthly howl came rolling down the mountain. ... Suddenly Noel pointed upward and my eye caught something moving swiftly on the crest of the mountain. A shadow, with the slinking trot of a wolf, glided along the ridge between us and the moon, turned a pointed nose up to the sky, and the terrible howl of the great White Wolf tumbled down upon the husky dogs and set them howling as if possessed.” So here we have the keen-eyed doctor, pen in hand, sitting expectantly on the deck of a schooner and telling his readers just how a wolf looked and acted at night, half a mile or more away on the mountain top, behind the fishing village. An owl with a telescope over each eye could not have done better. Having looked this midnight wolf over carefully, the doctor then remarks: “This was my first glimpse of Wayeeses, the huge white wolf which I had come a thousand miles over land and sea to study.” “All over the Long Range of the Northern Peninsula,” he goes on, "I followed him, guided sometimes by rumor, a hunter's story or a postman's fright." Since the island of New- foundland is considerably larger than Ireland, the idea of hunting a particular wolf by rumor or the aid of letter-carriers smacks of an originality that is most charming. As letter-carriers, wolves, and rumors were then unknown in the interior of Newfoundland—the doctor's triple alliance was a strong one. He also tells how wolves round up great flocks of migratory plover; how the wild ducks, over- come with curiosity by the wolves' playful antics on the beach, swim close enough to be seized by these hungry gymnasts; how they catch the wary wild goose at night and “trot back to the woods, each with a burden on his shoulders”; how they chase alleged seals all over the low out- lying reefs, in the broad glare of the sunlight, and how one “big seal tumbled into the tide, where the sharks following his bloody trail soon finished him.” Next he writes of a big bull caribou viciously assaulting a band of wolves and tells how they considerately side-step each deadly lunge-because, as the doctor says, “the caribou's time had not come yet: besides he was too tough." From the fleet-winged plover to the tough venison, all this is frenzied fiction, as rare as it is raw. Then he writes about the fearful raids made by the wolf upon certain fishing villages in New- foundland and relates how “by night the wolf The following letter is from George Shiras, 3d, who has hunted and photographed ani- mals in Michigan and Central Canada for thirty-six years, and whose ingenuity in se- curing flashlight pictures of wild animals by night has been of great value to naturalists: W. J. Long's latest book, “Northern Trails,” is largely devoted to the wonderful antics of the timber wolf, with Newfoundland for its stage. In a long trip through the wild, northwestern portion of Newfoundland I saw no signs of wolves and understood from the guides and trappers that they likewise had been unable to find any trace of these animals in recent years. Considering this, the beginning of the doctor's “Nature Fakers" 427 would come stealthily to prowl among the deserted lanes, and the fishermen sitting close by the stoves, behind barred doors, would know nothing of the huge, gaunt figures that flitted noiselessly past frosted windows. If a cat prowled about or an uneasy dog scratched to be let out, there would be a squall, a yelp—and the cat would not come back and the dog would never scratch the door again.” This is really pathetic, and accounts for the “barred doors" of the stove-hugging inhabitants. On the Newfoundland coast there reside about 250,000 brave, sturdy people, none of whom has ever seen a wolf or even a wolf track in the back yard, though they may have heard of these animals years ago from the lips of the midwinter trapper. The doctor, however, seeks to justify these wolf raids on the domestic pets by telling his readers that midwinter is the season of starvation for the wolf; although in fact, this is the very time when the myriad of caribou in Newfoundland would be utterly helpless, when, with the lakes and rivers frozen over, they could not escape the timber wolf if pursued. Ninety per cent of the deer killed by wolves meet their fate in midwinter for this very reason. About five hundred American and English sportsmen hunt big game in the island of New- foundland every year, and as none of these has killed a wolf, nor even seen one in recent years, they will unanimously vote that the doctor, having abandoned his degree of D.D., should have con- ferred upon him the new one of P.P.-Patron Prevaricator-of the Ancient Order of Ananias. “Nature Fakers"'* By THEODORE ROOSEVELT IN the Middle Ages there was no hard-and- ceeded best in this respect; as he has not only col- 1 fast line drawn between fact and fiction lected all the fictions into which other writers on the subject have run, but has so greatly improved on even in ordinary history; and until much later them, that little remains to be added to his account there was not even an effort to draw it in nat of the beaver besides a vocabulary of their language, ural history. There are quaint little books a code of their laws, and a sketch of their religion, on beasts, in German and in English, as late to make it the most complete natural history of that animal which can possibly be offered to the public. as the sixteenth century, in which the uni- There cannot be a greater imposition, or indeed corn and the basilisk appear as real creatures; a grosser insult on common understanding, than the while to more commonplace animals there are wish to make us believe the stories (in question] ... ascribed traits and habits of such exceeding a very moderate share of understanding is surely sufficient to guard [any one) against giving credit marvelousness that they ought to make the to such marvelous tales, however smoothly they may souls of the “nature fakers” of these degen be told, or however boldly they may be asserted by erate days swell with envious admiration. the romancing traveler. As real outdoor naturalists, real observers Hearne was himself a man who added of nature, grew up, men who went into the greatly to the fund of knowledge about the wilderness to find out the truth, they natu- beasts of the wilderness. We need such rally felt a half-indignant and half-amused observers; much remains to be told about the contempt both for the men who invented wolf and the bear, the lynx and the fisher, the preposterous fiction about wild animals, and moose and the caribou. Undoubtedly wild for the credulous stay-at-home people who creatures sometimes show very unexpected accepted such fiction as fact. A century and traits, and individuals among them sometimes a half ago old Samuel Hearne, the Hudson perform fairly startling feats or exhibit totally Bay explorer, a keen and trustworthy ob- unlooked-for sides of their characters in their server, while writing of the beaver, spoke as relations with one another and with man. follows of the spiritual predecessors of certain We much need a full study and observation modern writers: of all these animals, undertaken by observers I cannot refrain from smiling when I read the capable of seeing, understanding, and record- accounts of different authors who have written on ing what goes on in the wilderness; and such the economy of these animals, as there seems to be study and observation cannot be made by men a contest between them who shall most exceed in fiction. But the compiler of the “Wonders of Na- of dull mind and limited power of appreciation. ture and Art" seems, in my opinion, to have suc- The highest type of student of nature should * Special copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. 428 Everybody's Magazine be able to see keenly and write interestingly credited the marvels told of the unicorn, the and should have an imagination that will en basilisk, the roc, and the cockatrice. able him to interpret the facts. But he is not Of all these “nature fakers," the most a student of nature at all who sees not keenly reckless and least responsible is Mr. Long; but falsely, who writes interestingly and un but there are others who run him close in the truthfully, and whose imagination is used not "yellow journalism of the woods," as John to interpret facts but to invent them. Burroughs has aptly called it. It would take a volume merely to catalogue the comic absurdities with which the books of these TRUE NATURE LOVERS writers are filled. There is no need of dis- We owe a real debt to the men who truth- cussing their theories; the point is that their fully portray for us, with penor pencil, alleged “facts” are not facts at all, but any one of the many sides of outdoor life; fancies. Their most striking stories are not whether they work as artists or as writers, merely distortions of facts, but pure inven- whether they care for big beasts or small tions; and not only are they inventions, but birds, for the homely farmland or for the they are inventions by men who know so little vast, lonely wilderness, whether they are of the subject concerning which they write, scientists proper, or hunters of game, or lovers and who to ignorance add such utter reckless- of all nature—which, indeed, scientists and ness, that they are not even able to distinguish hunters ought also to be. John Burroughs between what is possible, however wildly and John Muir, Stewart Edward White, and improbable, and mechanical impossibilities. Frederic Remington, Olive Thorne Miller, Be it remembered that I am not speaking Hart Merriam, William Hornaday, Frank of ordinary mistakes, of ordinary errors of Chapman, J. A. Allen, Ernest Ingersoll, Wit- observation, of differences of interpretation mer Stone, William Cram, George Shiras—to and opinion; I am dealing only with delib- all of these and to many like them whom I erate invention, deliberate perversion of fact. could name, we owe much, we who love the breath of the woods and the fields, and who "UNCLE REMUS" WOLVES care for the wild creatures, large or small. And the surest way to neutralize the work Now all this would be, if not entirely of these lovers of truth and nature, of truth proper, at least far less objectionable, if the in nature-study, is to encourage those whose writers in question were content to appear in work shows neither knowledge of nature nor their proper garb, as is the case with the men love of truth. who write fantastic fiction about wild ani- The modern "nature faker” is of course mals for the Sunday issues of various daily an object of derision to every scientist worthy newspapers. Moreover, as a writer of spir- of the name, to every real lover of the wilder- ited animal fables, avowed to be such, any man ness, to every faunal naturalist, to every true can gain a distinct place of some importance. hunter or nature lover. But it is evident But it is astonishing that such very self- that he completely deceives many good people evident fiction as that which I am now dis- who are wholly ignorant of wild life. Some- cussing should, when advertised as fact, im- times he draws on his own imagination for pose upon any person of good sense, no matter his fictions; sometimes he gets them second how ignorant of natural history and of wild hand from irresponsible guides or trappers life. Most of us have enjoyed novels like or Indians. “King Solomon's Mines,” for instance. But if Mr. Rider Haggard had insisted that his YELLOW JOURNALISTS OF THE WOODS novels were not novels but records of actual fact, we should feel a mild wonder at the In the wilderness, as elsewhere, there are worthy persons who accepted them as serious some persons who do not regard the truth; contributions to the study of African geogra- and these are the very persons who most de- phy and ethnology. light to fill credulous strangers with impos- It is not probable that the writers in ques- sible stories of wild beasts. As for Indians, tion have even so much as seen some of the they live in a world of mysticism, and they animals which they minutely describe. They often ascribe supernatural traits to the ani- certainly do not know the first thing about mals they know, just as the men of the Mid- their habits, nor even about their physical dle Ages, with almost the same childlike faith, structure. Judging from the internal evi- “Nature Fakers" 429 dence of their books, I should gravely doubt if they had ever seen a wild wolf or a wild lynx. The wolves and lynxes and other ani- mals which they describe are full brothers of the wild beasts that appear in “Uncle Re- mus” and “Reynard the Fox," and deserve the same serious consideration from the zo- ological standpoint. Certain of their wolves appear as gifted with all the philosophy, the self-restraint, and the keen intelligence of, say, Marcus Aurelius, together with the lofty philanthropy of a modern altruist; though un- fortunately they are hampered by a wholly er- roneous view of caribou anatomy. STORY-BOOK BEASTS Like the White Queen in “Through the Looking-Glass,” these writers can easily be lieve three impossible things before break- fast; and they do not mind in the least if the impossibilities are mutually contradic- tory. Thus, one story relates how a wolf with one bite reaches the heart of a bull caribou, or a moose, or a horse--a feat which, of course, has been mechanically impossible of performance by any land carnivore since the death of the last saber-toothed tiger. But the next story will cheerfully describe a doubtful contest between the wolf and a lynx or a bulldog, in which the latter survives twenty slashing bites. Now of course a wolf that could bite into the heart of a horse would swallow a bulldog or a lynx like a pill. In one story, a wolf is portrayed as guid- ing home some lost children, in a spirit of thoughtful kindness; let the overtrustful in- dividual who has girded up his loins to be lieve this think of the way he would receive the statement of some small farmer's boy that when lost he was guided home by a coon, a possum, or a woodchuck. Again, one of these story-book wolves, when starving, catches a red squirrel, which he takes round as a present to propitiate a bigger wolf.* If any man seriously thinks a starving wolf would act in this manner, let him study hounds when feeding, even when they are not starving. The animals are alternately portrayed as actuated by motives of exalted humanitarian- ism, and as possessed of demoniac prowess and insight into motive. In one story the fisher figures in the latter capacity. A fisher is a big marten, the size of a fox. This particular story-book fisher, when pur- sued by hunters on snow-shoes, kills a buck by a bite in the throat, and leaves the carcass as a bribe to the hunters, hoping thereby to distract attention from himself! Now, foxes are continually hunted; they are far more clever than fishers. What rational man would pay heed to a story that a fox when hunted killed a good-sized calf by a bite in the throat, and left it as a bribe to the hounds and hunters, to persuade them to leave him alone? One story is just as possible as the other. In another story, the salmon is the hero. The writer begins by blunders about the young salmon which a ten minutes' visit to any government fish hatchery would have enabled him to avoid; and as a climax, de- scribes how the salmon goes up a fall by flopping from ledge to ledge of a cliff, under circumstances which make the feat about as probable as that the fish would use a step- ladder. As soon as these writers get into the wilderness, they develop preternatural powers of observation, and, as Mr. Shiras says, be- come themselves “invisible and odorless," so that the shyest wild creatures permit any closeness of intimacy on their part; in one re- cent story about a beaver colony, the alterna- tive to the above proposition is that the bea- vers were both blind and without sense of smell. FACT-BLINDNESS Yet these same writers, who see such mar- velous things as soon as they go into the woods, are incapable of observing aright the most ordinary facts when at home. One of their stories relates how the eyes of frogs shine at night in the wilderness; the author apparently ignoring the fact that frog-ponds are common in less remote places, and are not inhabited by blazing-eyed frogs. Two * This particular incident was alleged to have taken place in Newfoundland, the wolf being the same as the hero of the caribou-heart-bite episode. Mr. George Shiras had informed me that there were no red squirrels in Newfoundland, and that wolves were so scarce as to be practically non-existent, if they existed at all. He now writes me under date of July 19th as follows: time, wolves in Newfoundland, this animal was extinct, or prac- tically so. Squires is one of the best and most reliable trappers on this island, being one of the few who permanently reside in the interior, trapping in the most northerly and wildest por- tions of the country, where wolf sign would be instantly detected were the animals to be found on this island. Such audacity on the part of Dr. Long is simply astounding." The letter from the guide, W. T. Squires, runs in part as follows: “There are no squirrel of any kind here. Neither have I seen any sign of wolf in the last ten years." “I enclose a copy of a recent letter received from my guide in Newfoundland-which shows that I did not err regarding the wolves and red squirrel. “When Dr. Long alleges he was following, for weeks at a 430 Everybody's Magazine of our most common and most readily ob- they describe a bear, a moose, or a sal- served small mammals are the red squirrel mon. and the chipmunk. The chipmunk has It is half amusing and half exasperating to cheek pouches, in which he stores berries, think that there should be excellent persons grain, and small nuts, whereas the red squir- to whom it is necessary to explain that books rel has no cheek pouches, and carries nuts stuffed with such stories, in which the stories between his teeth. Yet even this simple fact are stated as facts, are preposterous in their escapes the attention of one of the writers we worthlessness. These worthy persons vividly are discussing, who endows a red squirrel call to mind Professor Lounsbury's comment with cheek pouches filled with nuts. Evi- on “the infinite capacity of the human brain dently excessive indulgence in invention to withstand the introduction of knowledge.” tends to atrophy the power of accurate ob The books in question contain no statement servation. which a serious and truth-loving studen, of nature can accept, save statements which have FABLE WEAVERS AND BELIEVERS already long been known as established by trustworthy writers. The fables they contain In one story a woodcock is described as ma bear the same relation to real natural history king a kind of mud splint for its broken leg; that Barnum's famous artificial mermaid it seems a pity not to have added that it also bore to real fish and real mammals. No man made itself a crutch to use while the splint who has really studied nature in a spirit of was on. · A Baltimore oriole is described as seeking the truth, whether he be big or little, making a contrivance of twigs and strings can have any controversy with these writers; whereby to attach its nest, under circum- it would be as absurd as to expect some gen- stances which would imply the mental ability uine student of anthropology or archeology and physical address of a sailor making a to enter into a controversy with the clumsy hammock; and the story is backed up by affi- fabricators of the Cardiff Giant. Their books davits, as are others of these stories. This carry their own refutation; and affidavits in particular feat is precisely as possible as that support of the statements they contain are a Rocky Mountain pack rat can throw the as worthless as the similar affidavits once sol- diamond hitch. The affidavits in support of emnly issued to show that the Cardiff “giant” these various stories are interesting only be- was a petrified pre-Adamite man. There is cause of the curious light they throw on the now no more excuse for being deceived by personalities of those making and believing their stories than for being still in doubt them. about the silly Cardiff hoax. If the writers who make such startling discoveries in the wilderness would really THE GUILTY ONES study even the denizens of a barnyard, they would be saved from at least some of their Men of this stamp will necessarily arise, more salient mistakes. Their stories dwell from time to time, some in one walk of life, much on the “teaching” of the young animals some in another. Our quarrel is not with by their elders and betters. In one story, these men, but with those who give them their for instance, a wild duck is described as chance. We who believe in the study of na- “teaching" her young how to swim and get ture feel that a real knowledge and apprecia- their food. If this writer had strolled into tion of wild things, of trees, flowers, birds, the nearest barnyard containing a hen which and of the grim and crafty creatures of the had hatched out ducklings, a glance at the wilderness, give an added beauty and health actions of those ducklings when the hen hap- to life. Therefore we abhor deliberate or pened to lead them near a puddle would reckless untruth in this study as much as in have enlightened him as to how much any other; and therefore we feel that a grave “teaching” they needed. But these writers wrong is committed by all who, holding a po- exercise the same florid imagination when sition that entitles them to respect, yet con- they deal with a robin or a rabbit as when done and encourage such untruth. Theodore Roosach Everybodhi Tagazine PUBLISHED BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY ERMAN J. RIDGWAY, President JOHN O'Hara CosGRAVE Wm. L. JENNINGS, Sec'y and Treas, RAY BROWN, Art Director Editor Robert FROTHINGHAM, Adv. Mgr. 31 EAST 17TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY With “Everybody's” Publishers AST month, Mr. Frothingham told you of the way in which he has trained his force to creep up stealthily and surround a wild but desirable advertisement, and how other attractive “ads." have succumbed to years of patient kindness, and have become so tame that they will almost walk into the back pages of the magazine by themselves. The month before, the editor, Mr. Cosgrave, presented some of the problems of the edi- torial department in the pursuit of elusive copy, and showed you the patient sifting process by means of which barrels of manu- script are gradually reduced in volume to the dimensions of a periodical that you can tuck into your side coat-pocket. This month, thinking you might be inter- ested in hearing something about the illus- trations, we have urged on the head of the art department, Mr. Ray Brown, the necessity of defending his hand. Let's listen to him: But the picture stays, irritating you by its mere passive endurance to the point where, after a while, you feel that if you don't say something to destroy its smug self-compla- cency, it will go on thinking that it's all right. So then you begin to work over it, and you say, “Yes, I see now; it looked pretty good at first, but that arm is hopelessly bad, and I don't quite like the face." There's nothing to be done if you don't “quite like the face"; there's no answer to that proposition. It's a clincher. Rembrandt himself couldn't have stood up against it. If some duke of his day had sauntered up to Rembrandt's finest por- trait and said, “I don't think I quite like the face,” Rembrandt would have wilted, and probably would have given up trying to be an “old master.” The getting of good illustrations is one of the problems of magazine-making; pictures that shall not only be intrinsically good in them- selves but shall also contain some of the germs of popularity for a large and varied mass of picture lovers. Merely to avoid stepping on the corns of our friends, to refrain from giving needless and apparently gratuitous offense, is a task. Politics, religion, art, the sciences, and the professions, all figure in illustration at one time or another; and when the finished result is submitted to several million people, some- where in that vast throng arises each month the expert with the critical mind, who points the accusing finger at us and says: “Now you've done it; don't you know anything at all about the commonest things of life?' An astronomer writes anent a luckless picture, in stern condemnation: “The full moon,” says he, “is not at that altitude above the horizon at eleven o'clock on the night of December 25th, nor on the 25th of any other Some liberal-minded people will admit to you that a slight preliminary training is re- quired before a serious attempt is made to criticize music, but almost anybody with eyes is willing to embark buoyantly on the job of tearing a picture to pieces. This seems to be because the picture will stand without hitch- ing. Moreover, it will patiently submit to all the verbal harpoons you find time and strength to throw, and the average friendly critic will find sufficient of both to make even a reasonably good painting look like a cross between a fourteenth-century St. Sebastian and a hedgehog. Music, on the contrary, is both prolonged and evanescent, and by the time the compo- sition is finished and the applause has quieted down, the critic has forgotten most of the good things he intended to say to its detriment. 431 432 Everybody's Magazine month in the year.” That settles it; he knows. reproductions of it are still being sold all A cleric, in fervent but decorous English, over the world. The artist has acquired a condemns a pictorial surplice, claiming, in handsome bank account in royalties from deed, that it is on hind side before. The that one picture alone. picture is so tiny that we didn't even know it And Vernon Howe Bailey's beautiful had a surplice. But he did; surplices are his pictures of San Francisco, coming, as they business. did, only a month after the earthquake-you Occasionally a critic in clear, curt speech may have wondered at their timeliness. In informs us that the pictures in a mining fact we did some wondering ourselves. We story portray a stope, where a shaft is clearly have more of his work coming. indicated in the story by the formation of the Next month we are starting a new series of lode and the locality of the scene. pictures by Wm. Balfour Ker, which he calls Or some honest sailorman writes in pained “The Story of an American Home.” They surprise to inquire why in a ship picture the are full of the most enchanting sentiment, artist rove the port mizzen royal buntline varied by touches of delicious humor. They through the main-brace bumkin block in- fairly radiate love and light and cheerfulness, stead of through the fair lead. and we feel sure you are going to be en- And the pretty girl problem. You know thusiastic over them. how hard it is in real life to collect even Dan Smith has done more of his horse and a corporal's guard out of a whole church hunting pictures, which go with such a rush fair who will openly acknowledge that any that you can almost feel the wind. And Will one girl is really pretty. And, at that, the Crawford-if you could only see the more real-life girl is able occasionally to vary the than Oriental splendor with which his Western monotony of her appearance in degrees ran- drawings arrive-anywhere from a week to a ging from a change in expression to a violent month late, usually, but borne in grandeur alteration in the way of wearing her hair, by a magnificent full-blooded Sioux, who is whereas the poor magazine girl, once done, is Mr. Crawford's model, fidus Achates, and, one done forever, and can present only the same is sometimes tempted to think, his trustee unblushing, monotonous face for praise or and board of directors as well. And there is blame. Horace Taylor with his irresistibly funny Now and then the clothes as well as the ideas about folks that wouldn't be funny at girl come in for a share of trouble. The art- all to us if he hadn't seen them first; and ist overlooks a single line, perhaps, and the Martin Justice, with his perfectly probable picture, widely separated from the vital sen- people in the most absolutely impossible situa- tence, goes blithely past the guards in the edi- tions, and Karl Anderson and Edmund Fred- torial rooms and you have a result like this: erick with their swagger grandes dames, and The story says: “Her bare arms stole softly . Herbert Dunton, Hermann C. Wall, Charles about his neck.” You turn over to the pic-, Falls, Thornton Oakley, Blanche Greer, and ture to see how her dress is made—having a host of others so good that not to recall their troubles of your own—and find that her names to you seems almost high treason. sleeves come beyond her wrists, with perhaps a frill of lace all but covering the hands. EVERYBODY's, from small beginnings, has Maybe she is wearing mittens. struggled up to a place of its own in the artis- But, on the other side, every now and then tic world; and though we sometimes sacrifice a simple picture or a set of illustrations wakes what might be called "pure art” for the sake a wide response. Some echo of the maker's of sentiment, or action, or humor, the maga- enthusiasm or loving care seems to touch zine has reached a position where artistic everybody, as if the artist had actually laid a names of the highest order are no strangers persuasive finger on their very hearts. to its pages, while the clever young people To glance back for a moment at some of look hopefully to it as a powerful aid in these successes: you remember Mucha's making their reputations paintings of the “Beatitudes” with their Just one word more. If, in reading this, quaint foreign flavor, their gorgeous color, you get a slight impression that it has an and their sincere feeling of devotion. And apologetic tone, rest assured that it does not. you can't have forgotten the “Dollies It's explanatory, that's all. The art depart- Prayer,” first published in EVERYBODY's, for ment is still hopeful and impenitent. On the page following is a picture by Mr. Ilm. Balfour ker. 7h15 is the first of a series of paintings, entitled "The Story of an American Home," which will be used as frontispieces during the coming months. COPYRIGHT 1901 BY W. BALFOUR-KER Copyright, 1907, by Wm. Balfour Ker. THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN HOME. 1. CASTLES IN SPAIN.-THE OLD HOME AND A DREAM OF THE NEW. VERYBODY'S MAGAZINE Vol. XVII. OCTOBER, 1907. No. 4. The Keystone Crime Pennsylvania's Graft-Cankered Capitol By OWEN WISTER EDITOR'S NOTE. — Owen Wister occupies a field remote from sociological investiga- tion or journalistic exposure of national evils. It happens, however, that having of late passed much time within his native state, he has become, through his identification with the Phila- delphia reform movement, or City Party, thoroughly familiar with the events leading to the scandal of the Capitol at Harrisburg. IVhen urged to present them in El’ERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, he felt it proper to accept. He has consequently devoted much of his time to the hearings of the Investigation Commission and to an examination of the whole sordid crime, believing that in giving these facts the widest publicity lies Pennsylvania's greatest hope. TF you will walk up the great staircase in contractor who furnished the Capitol. Fifty | the Capitol at Harrisburg, and proceed dollars would duplicate this stand, it has been left to the Senate side, and find your way to said; but its maker's profit is not the story of the Senate cloak-room, and look to the left the stand. Mr. Sanderson placed two wooden as you enter the door of that room, your eyes chairs and four brass foot-rests upon it, and will immediately fall upon a stand for black- resold it to Pennsylvania for $1,619.20. That ing boots. Nothing visible about this piece is the story of the stand. of furniture suggests its story; it is of decent A ten-per-cent. commission for a contract- dark wood, of dimensions convenient for its or is held to be generous; the commission purpose; two senators can be seated upon it here was 1,192 per cent.—and since he was with comfort and have their four boots black- dealing in figures of this size, why was Mr. ened simultaneously. Its maker, a Mr. Lan- Sanderson so precise about the $19.20? dis, sold it for $125 to Mr. Sanderson, the I n several rooms is a type of mahogany Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. 436 Everybody's Magazine office table 8 feet long, 4 wide, 2} high. The off by the inordinate cost of such a material. cost of each table to Sanderson was $40. He They were. Sanderson, the successful “in- charged the State $1,472, a commission of side" contractor, bid $3.85 a pound, which 3,580 per cent. Still more remarkable are two was later privately raised to $4.85; and he was rostrums, for which $2,060 were paid the paid at this rate—but not for “government builder, and for which the State paid Sander- statuary bronze," of which he furnished not a son $90,748.80, a commission of 4,305 per single ounce. Chemical analysis of forty-one cent. It appears that all this furniture, and different styles of his fixtures has disclosed a much more, was bought by Sanderson by the substituted alloy that saved an immense per- piece, but was sold to the State “by the foot,” centage, both as to raw cost and assembling at $18.40 a foot. If we now take the dimen- cost, and that is worth forty-four cents a sions of the mahogany table, which originally pound, still further constantly cheapened by cost $40, and compute its feet by multiplying the use of scrap, instead of new alloy. Hav- its length by its width, and the result by its ing now secretly raised his price and cheap- height thus: 4 times 8 is 32; 24 times 32 is 80, ened his material, Sanderson proceeded to and then multiply $18.40 by 80, we reach the make his chandeliers much thicker than was sum of $1,472, or the price of 80 cubic feet necessary, and further to load all possible of table paid by Pennsylvania to Sanderson. hollow places in them with hunks of metal not This gentleman by similar multiplications merely superfluous, but in some cases dan- found that there were 88 feet of blacking stand gerous-one chandelier having already broken —and so reached the price of $1,619.20 for several links of its badly cast supporting that article. The rostrums were dealt with in chains. These metal hunks cost Sanderson the same cubical way, as were the hundreds about twenty-five cents a pound, and it is and thousands of other objects that you will estimated that there are 12,000 pounds of such find distributed through the five stories of the loadings. The Senate and House chandeliers enormous building. We Pennsylvania tax- weigh 31 tons. Having superfluously loaded payers have paid for I don't know how many his fixtures, Sanderson now added imaginary thousands of feet of clocks, of umbrella-tubs, pounds to their weight; one type is charged as of clothes-trees, and of filing-cases. 900 pounds, but it weighs 755, while in the “You knew you were including a good Supreme Court room, four fixtures were paid deal of air in that measurement, didn't you?" for at 1,3021 pounds each; one has been found asked the counsel, Mr. James Scarlet, of a to weigh 802, the next 770. As to casting, witness on May 31st, during the morning pieces which should be solid turn out to be session of the committee that has been ap- of many soldered fragments. And finally, pointed to investigate this whole matter. there is the “solid mercurial gold finish” “Yes, sir, no doubt of that,” replied the called for in the specifications. This is a witness. process so handsome and durable, as well as But when any precise cubic content was expensive, that it is used almost altogether perplexing to calculate, measurement was dis- in Europe, and almost never here. Huston pensed with. and Sanderson have often mentioned its "Sometimes we would charge by the linear universal presence in their bronze. There is feet and sometimes by the square feet. We'd not a square inch of it anywhere. Dipping look at a piece of work and decide what it in acid and brushing with powder is their very was worth. Then we would divide the esti- cheap substitute, and this “gold finish” has mated price by the unit price ($18.40) to de- begun to wear off already. termine the number for which to charge.” Thus the Sanderson-concocted chandelier It is thus that some 1,100 chairs were paid is an emblem of six different kinds of cheat- for. Let us dwell upon one more item: the light (1) In material, his bronze is a fraud. ing fixtures. Sanderson sold these to the (2) In construction, his casting is dishon- state not “by the foot” but “by the pound.” est. The specifications called for "government (3) In finish, his gold-plating is a sham. statuary bronze,” 87 parts copper, 13 parts (4) He “loaded” his fixtures. tin, a thing unknown as a trade staple, with (5) He charged for weight that did not a name invented by the architect, Huston, exist. for the emergency. The emergency was (6) He charged, and got, one dollar a that “outside" bidders must be frightened pound over his bid. ing: EX-GOVERNOR PENNYPACKER. "I know of no graft; I do not like the term." mission spent only thirty-two cents a cubic foot. II The fixtures cost Sanderson $569,000, which included a fifty-per-cent. profit, di- vided between him, Boileau, and Kinsman, under the terms of contract of the Penn- sylvania Bronze Company. He then charged the State $2,041,522.97, of wnich his share, after paying a subcontractor, was $1,600,- 000. It remains to be said that to charge for pieces of furniture “by the foot” and “by the pound” is a method utterly unknown to the business world, and impossible to carry out fairly, coherently, or intelligently. As Huston observed, it was not carried out The total cubic-foot capacity of the Capitol is 12,131,666. To build it cost $3,970,000— including sculptures by Barnard, some of Ab- bey's paintings, and all of Miss Oakley's decorative paintings. To furnish it cost $8,588,740.55—that is to say, that under a schedule calling for “furniture, fixtures, and decorations,” the Board of Public Grounds and Buildings spent seventy cents a cubic foot (largely for fraudulent stuff), while for the building itself the Capitol Building Com- QUAY, late leader of political Pennsylvania, dead now, said once at election time: “I can sometimes do without a governor, but I al- ways need a treasurer"; and upon another occasion, very late in life, he advised a friend: “Keep out of the Capitol job. Everybody in that will go to the penitentiary.” Behind these remarks lie forty years of unpunished robbery, punctuated by occasional protests; for Pennsylvania is not rottener than she ever was, but merely as rotten as ever she has been. If anybody goes to the penitentiary this time, it will be because Quay is no longer alive to rob the penitentiary as well as the treasury. One protest was the new Constitution of 1874, making the office of treasurer elective. Pre- viously, he had been chosen by the legislature —then owned by Cameron. But what is law unless vitalized by vigilance? The Pennsyl- vanian does not vigil; he sometimes tosses in his sleep. 437 438 Everybody's Magazine Robbery continued for five years, when an- other protest elected an honest and indepen- dent treasurer, Samuel Butler. He looked into the Treasury and saw he had fallen heir to a deficit. Less servile than his prede- shirt-sleeves in his room, and grasping the weapon of death in the presence of the rightly selected person, he repeated again and again that his time had come. Chris Magee, of Pittsburg, was the selected person, and Quay Copyright, 1907, oy J. W. Koshon. THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE CAPITOL WHICH COST FOUR MILLION TO BUILD AND MORE THAN EIGHT MILLION TO TURNISII. cessors, he declined to receipt for $260,000, had understood his man. Magee's senti- which he found was represented by not one mental heart melted; he implored Quay to cent of cash, but by queer certificates of live (which Quay had not the slightest in- shares in queer mining and land companies, tention of not doing) and swearing to help and by politicians' promissory notes. It is him out, made good his word. He appealed now published and undenied history that this to Cameron, and not in vain. To quote an- money had been taken out of the Treasury other of Quay's felicitous phrases, here was by Quay, and lost in speculation. Expo- the man found “to get behind the Treasury sure loomed close; Quay fretted day and and make things look good.” Cameron night, closeted in consultation with his part paid the deficit, Butler took office, the peo- ners, Walters, the cashier of the Treasury, ple knew nothing, and Quay continued to live and Norris, the auditor-general of the State. and loot. Noyes, the retiring State treas- But as exposure loomed closer, Walters did urer, did not. He had been ignorant of the more than fret-he blew his brains out, and looting worked by his cashier, Walters, and he stands historic as Treasury suicide No. 1. soon followed him, dying of worry and shame His tragedy may have suggested to Quay in a few months. the little comedy that he himself now played. Butler unfortunately appointed William Struggle and search as they would, squeeze Livesey, of Pittsburg, his cashier. Livesey pennies from everywhere into the deficit, turned out a jailbird of the Quay feather, and more than $100,000 remained to find. May made the machinery of self-perpetuating theft ist was at hand, the reckoning day, when perfect, thus: Bailey succeeded Butler, Live- Butler should take his office—and he refused sey remaining cashier. Bailey was honest, to assume charge until the whole deficit was but ignorant of the nature of the banks where made up; meanwhile he promised silence. Livesey now deposited State money, and So Quay played his comedy. Seated in his where Quay and his friends freely drew on The Keystone Crime 439 it without security. When two of these were rendered needless. Thus the dark- banks failed, and Bailey's entire fortune ness beneath the Treasury lid was unbroken, was taken under a confession of judgment, and the machinery of theft worked smoothly exacted by the sureties who had gone on his on-but not smoothly for everybody. The bond at the time he entered office, his eyes Treasury had been recently crippled by a were opened and he understood. The poli- raid of $400,000, got from it for Quay ticians got him free transportation to his by Livesey, the cashier, assisted by Norris, home, where he soon after died in poverty. the auditor-general. With this money Quay Cashier Livesey now became treasurer, fol- had bought certain bonds carrying a stock lowed by Quay, who reappointed him cash- bonus. The bonds he sold in time, thus re- ier, but who resigned early in his second year, placing the $400,000, and the stock he kept when Livesey was appointed treasurer for the until it brought him $75 a share, when he unexpired term. He was made cashier again observed: “A man is a fool who does not take by his successor, Hart, probably an honest advantage of his opportunities.” But Nor- man. It is believed that what Hart discovered ris, who with a negro porter had brought the about the Treasury killed him. At any rate, State money in a cab to Quay, drank himself he died in office, and the perpetual Livesey to death, while the negro porter, oddly enough, was again appointed to fill the vacancy. He was soon after found at the bottom of the was again madecashier by his successor, Boyer. Susquehanna River. Before dying, Norris About this time a flood destroyed Johns- had written to Quay: town, and for such emergency the machinery MY DEAR COLONEL: In the event of my death I of self-perpetuating theft could not provide. wish as my last request that you see that Lizzie, for It was proposed to call herself and children, re- a special session of the ceives my $10,000 in the Chicago deal. This is the Legislature to enact re- only legacy I can secure lief for Johnstown. But them, and I trust you to the “insiders” knew look after it. better than to subject the Treasury to such a Mrs. Norris present- sudden test. It would ed this letter. Quay have lifted the lid off laughed in her face, re- the vacancy beneath. marking:“When a pol- The man was found itician dies, he leaves again-William H. only what is found on Kemble. He knew that him.” She put the pa- there was no money to pers in legal hands; and pay for any special ses- the sum of $10,000 was sion, nor for any appro- promptly paid for them, priation for Johnstown, and the lid was kept on. and he knew why. An- But Livesey, fearing other jailbird of the that the lid might some Quay feather (already day be lifted on himself, once convicted of bri- fled the State, and died bery and immediately in exile. The machin- pardoned by the State ery continued without board of which Quay him. No suicides, how- was chairman), he had ever, occurred when the coined a phrase as ex- - Chestnut Street Bank, pressive as any of the State Insurance Quay's: “Addition, di- Company, the West- vision, and silence." He chester Trust Company, paid his debt to Quay and the German Na- now, and came forward tional Bank of Pitts- openly with $50,000 for burg were wrecked by Johnstown, and there- the smooth running of THE ARCHITECT HUSTON, by a special session the machinery. But the and an appropriation lid, nevertheless, nearly Through whose office the machinery of the graft was operated. 440 Everybody's Magazine came off on March 25, 1898, when the evidently meant to be temporary, as it was. People's Bank failed, and Hopkins, the By Act of July 18, 1901, a Capitol Building cashier, blew his brains out, because he knew Commission was created to construct, build, more about the self-perpetuating machinery and complete the State Capitol," the total cost of theft than he could any longer bear. We not to exceed $4,000,000. Significant indeed pass by most interesting letters from the State is the proviso that none but Pennsylvania treasurer, Haywood, found in the cashier's architects would be eligible. A third com- desk, and quote only the famous telegram: petition was now invited, Mr. Ware, of Co- lumbia University, to perform the office of SAN LUCIE, FLORIDA, Feb. II, 1898. JOHN S. HOPKINS: If you buy and carry a thou- un professional adviser. No architects of stand- sand Met. for me I will shake the plum-tree. ing entered this competition, and over its M. S. QUAY. finish gathers a blur--that blur which in- Quay, his son Richard, and Haywood a variably shrouds all crucial moments in the were indicted for conspiracy to use the funds doings of the Quay political offspring. We of the Commonwealth for their own benefit. are now entering the crowded intricacies of When the trial began, April 10, 1899, Hay- this long and well-prepared plot. Out of wood had opportunely and suddenly died. the competition blur emerges Huston, whose Quay attempted no defense, but pleaded the premature boast that he was to be the chosen statute of limitations. Quay's plea excluded architect spoils the appearance of the simu- lated competition. Against this choice of all evidence antedating two years—all evi- dence of the transactions narrated above, all Huston the Institute of American Architects evidence but Haywood's books—the dealings formally protested. No notice was taken of with the People's Bank being kept secretly this protest. On his entering the competition, by Hopkins in a sort of cipher. The expert Huston's resignation from the T Square Club accountant explained the cipher and made was requested, and accepted—but he had got the secret and the open books of the bank fit the Capitol, and the Capitol had got him, an like hands in gloves, showing that between inexperienced novice, and consequently sure May 6, 1886, and October 31, 1897, Quay got to be amenable to the suggestion of those who $1,906,703 from the People's Bank, and paid had so distinguished him. only $2,418 interest thereon. But several of They had now got their man, and next they the jury could neither write nor read. On needed a little law. It was not lacking. By April 21st Quay was acquitted, and the ma- Act of March 26, 1895 (which enlarged and chinery of theft suffered no interruption, not bettered one of ten years earlier), it was pro- even during the trial. Meanwhile, the new vided that “the Governor, Auditor-General, and State Treasurer shall constitute a board Capitol had begun to rise, at least in the imagination of the politicians. “Everybody to be known as the Board of Commissioners in that job will go to the penitentiary,” re- of Public Grounds and Buildings, who shall marked Quay. have entire control of the public grounds and buildings, including ... the furnishing and refurnishing of the same.” Here legally we have the entering wedge, which very slight doctoring-imperceptible to the unperceiving By Act of April 14, 1897, provision had public-was to render a fine weapon of de- been made for the erection of a new Capitol fense for any amount of chandeliers and building,* and $550,000 had been the appro- blacking stands. Were not such things “fur- priation limiting its structural cost. Eight nishings”? And did not the Board of Public prominent architectural firms were invited to Grounds and Buildings have full swing here? compete. Suddenly the committee revoked Let the Building Commission scrupulously its program. From the political blur of all spend its four millions on the building; the this emerges a new competition-everybodyboard would attend to the furnishing. In- cordially invited. But the Institute of Ar- deed, under this very amply worded power, chitects passed a formal resolution, forbid- dating back to 1885, there is no doubt that ding any of its members to deal with the (in a small way) "addition, division, and politicians and their Capitol. There was silence” had been going on steadily, when- now built the $550,000 Capitol, a brick shell ever “furnishing and refurnishing” was to be done. The “by the foot” and “by the * To replace the one burned February 2, 1897. Few believe that this burning was accidental. pound” system turns up during these years, III The Keystone Crime 441 invented by one Delaney, who had sat at the feet of Quay and Cameron. Having un- limited power to furnish, all that was needed was authority to pay the bills. The plan was large and the men here engaged wanted full sway. So we find in the General Appropria- tion Acts of 1901, 1903, and 1905, what is known as Section 10: “The State treasurer is hereby authorized and directed to pay out of any moneys in the Treasury not other- wise appropriated . . . such sums as may be required . . . for furnishing, ... which ills," declared the judge, and proved it by naming the institutions founded by Franklin, and recalling how brilliantly General Meade had won the battle of Gettysburg. And when he came to Quay he wrote: “It is not for me to express an opinion concerning his political methods. ... Mr. Quay is a plain, simple, modest, and kindly man, with no propen- sity for the acquisition of riches, and with a genius for . . . organization ... like the gift of Shakespeare." Quay was flattered by this, and he forthwith took his cousin Pen- A SESSION OF THE INVESTIGATING COMMITTLE. shall be done only on the written orders nypacker from the bench, and made him of the Board of . . . Public Grounds and the next Governor of Pennsylvania in 1903. Buildings." No $4,000,000 limit here; no Quay had been in recent trouble (we omit the limit at all; but who would have been able to history of ex-Senator Quay, as it is not or- see that “any moneys not otherwise appro- ganically essential to the story of the Cap- priated” was going to mean nearly $9,000,000 itol), and he was glad to offer in his cousin for furnishing? Pennypacker a candidate of whom everybody And now Mr. Samuel Pennypacker comes could say “he is honest”; moreover this into this story. In the Allantic Monthly for cousin had been a perfectly reputable judge. October, 1901, appeared an article, “The By virtue of the Act of 1895, Governor Political Ills of Pennsylvania,” touching upon Pennypacker now found himself (with Audi- such methods as self-perpetuating machinery, tor-General Hardenburgh and State Treas- and other matters too, and speaking of Quayurer Harris) presiding officer of the Board with frankness unveiled. To this Mr. Pen- of Public Grounds and Buildings. The con- nypacker-Judge Pennypacker then—wrote tract for building the Capitol had been a reply, which the Atlantic declined, and awarded on September 30th, some three which he published in The Press, No months before; it was scarce yet time to think vember 29, 1901. “Pennsylvania has no of furnishings—though oddly, very oddly, 442 Everybody's Magazine orders for all the metal furniture had already entire furnishing, in accordance with the speci- been approved by the governor's predeces- fications prepared by the architect.” Now let sors. But quite aside from the question of the reader suppose that he is a manufacturer furnishings, which had not yet been presented of carpets, and that he puts in a bid; instantly to him, it did not take Governor Pennypacker he runs against the "joker”; his bid must long to fall under the spell of the glory that “cover the entire furnishings”-chandeliers, the new Capitol was sure to shed upon him. desks, thermostats, Venetian blinds, glass, He would still be governor at its completion in etc., etc.—and he makes only carpets. He 1906, would preside at the opening ceremo- cannot compete, unless in the six weeks given nies, would hear panegyrics from important him he can arrange with those who make the speakers, would add a little something in that other things to supply him, then get the archi- way himself; would in short stand at the doors tect's specifications, base his bids upon them, of the new house, its momentary master, and cover the forty-one items of the schedule, and flinging them grandly open, bid the world be ready on the day appointed for bidding. It walk in and be welcome. It is under the was impossible. Some went so far as to trust splendor of this vision that charity, and a the advertisement that “complete plans for all belief in his personal honesty, compel us to the furniture . . . can be seen at the office of suppose that Governor Pennypacker hence- J. M. Huston ... where full instructions forth walked in a trance of vanity. To this will be given.” They called and grew speedily trance Huston ably ministered. Governor aware of their innocence. All instructions Pennypacker secured Huston for his board were withheld; even civility was usually with- for the consideration of four per cent. on held. Plans for furniture they did see- everything. On April 12, 1904, we find him chained to the wall; but when they asked for offering what has since become famous as copies of these to take home to base their his "joker” resolution, regarding bids for the calculations on, they were refused. In short, furnishing. On April 13th they rescinded in the office of J. M. Huston they got not a this resolution—but when it came to letting clue to enable them to bid, and they gave it the contract it was let in strict accordance up, realizing that they were not of the elect. with the resolution. But how did the It was the archi- elect Sanderson tects' competition manage it, since J. over again, differ- M. Huston denied ently managed. A that he had ever certain man was known Sanderson needed to perfect until the bidding- the plot, but there day? Since that must be an appear- denial, J. M. Hus- ance of open bid- ton has written let- ding. Now, San- ters in which inad- derson had been vertent mention is supplying fur- made of his having niture to public known Sanderson buildings since the since 1899, and it Act of 1895, and has further been he was the needed shown during the man, and they got investigation that him by the simplest this pair were in device. In Govern- busy collusion or Pennypacker's over the bidding a "joker” resolution year before the was embedded the bidding took place. following, suggest- We complete this ed to him by no- transaction for the body knows who, reader by adding though we may all that besides San- guess: the bids derson there was must "cover the whose election in 1905 brought about the exposure of the Capitol graft. one general bidder. STATE TREASURER BERRY, The Keystone Crime 443 namely, “The International and Manufac- the Board of Public Grounds and Buildings, turing Supply Company.” It was a phantom. and perhaps spoil everything. They fought The probing hand goes through it, finding a desperately. They invited many distin- sort of vacuum, with several sets of shuffled guished strangers to come and speak for them; incorporators, and, as residue, a female type- they floated themselves on great banners as the writer, and some- party of Roosevelt, body now in Mexi- the party of the co. It was got up Square Deal, be- for appearances. sides employing Thus the second their usual meth- farce of competi- ods lavishlv; but tion was played, the distinguished and the scheme of strangers sent re- robbery made per- grets, the adminis- fect-a Capitol tration made no building to fur- sign, and they had nish, an unscrupu- to speak for them- lous rascal to fur- selves. This they nish it, a board with did at the Acade- unlimited control my of Music, Oc- of public money to tober 18th. Said pay for it, and an- . Senator Penrose: other unscrupu- “No one of all lous rascal with un- the states can ex- limited control of hibit such a wise the board. How and beneficent he turned them financial system as "TRIMMER" SANDERSON, round his finger, The principal looter in the Harrisburg crime. has been created how they were wax in Pennsylvania in his hands, how these official guardians of by Republican legislation and administered the enterprise guarded nothing, but impo- by Republican treasurers. ... The Republi- tently (or connivingly) sat still while millions can party has no apology to offer. . . . What were being squandered, shall presently be it has done in the past it will do in the future.” narrated. This promise was virtually simultaneous with another blowing out of brains. Out in Alle- IV gheny, T. Lee Clark, cashier of the Enterprise Bank, on that day had followed the steps of MEANWHILE Quay had died; and, bereft Walters and Hopkins, and by shooting himself of its chief, Pennsylvania's den of thieves fell had become Treasury suicide No. 3. While into trouble for a while, weakened by internal the looted bank added a new ruin to com- quarreling and menaced by the citizens from memorate the “wise and beneficent financial without. The storm-center was in Philadel- system,” the corpse of Clark added special phia. Three impudences greater than com eloquence to Senator Penrose's words: “The mon-Quay's appointment to the Senate one Republican party has no apology to offer. hour after his technical evasion of prison, the ... What it has done in the past it will do Salter jury, and finally the Gas Lease—had in the future.” gradually wakened the hibernating moral So Mr. Berry was elected State treasurer sense of the community, and the Gas Lease in November, 1905. He could not know threatened their pockets besides. In the en- what breathless doings his election had started suing revolt of May to November, 1905, pol- among Huston, Sanderson, and their puppet itics were disinfected by the City Party to a Board of Public Grounds and Buildings; but degree encouraging, but incomplete; and the when he entered office on May 6, 1906, he particular disinfecting which concerns the could have known, and did know at once, by Capitol was the election of an honest and what he found, that theft on a great scale had courageous State treasurer. This was a dan- been taking place. By a grave error of judg- ger that the conspirators had not foreseen. ment in keeping back this knowledge for four By their own law he would take his place on months, he hurt incurably the fall campaign BOOTBLACK STAND. MAHOGANY OFFICE TABLE. Market price, $40: cost to Pennsylvania, $1,472. Market price, $125; cost to Pennsylvania, $1,619.20. that he was endeavoring to before the bills were approved serve by his ill-timed postpone- and ordered to be paid." ment. But we must be very On September 17th, at grateful to him for what he Reading, Berry persisted: did accomplish. All was quiet “The Capitol has cost more meanwhile, so quiet, so hid- than $12,000,000.” den, that on August 16th, the On September 26th, Penny- Capitol being ready, a Phila- packer and his auditor issued delphia newspaper could say a statement: “Pennsylvania the following: "It is probably will be proud of it.” “The the only great structure put board believed . . . that it up in this country under pub- had made an advantageous lic auspices that was finished arrangement for the Common- within the specified time and wealth.” “No bill was finally the cost kept within the ap- settled until the article had propriation.” And true it been measured or weighed as seemed; it had cost $30,000 the schedule required.” “So less than the $4,000,000 ap- far as we know not a dollar propriated to "build” it, while has been misspent.” “The the $8,500,000 spent by Mr. board, conscious ... it has Pennypacker in “furnishing" faithfully wrought a good work it was, and would have re- ... awaits with entire con- mained, a secret hermetically fidence the approval of the sealed forever, but for the re- cent victory of the City Party. The Capitol is not a good Thus as late as August, 1906, work. Outside, it looks as HAT-TREE. the public suspected nothing. Sold to Pennsylvania at $18.40 a foot. much like all other Capitols as On September 10th, at Erie, any banana looks like the rest Mr. Berry said: “The Capitol has cost more of the bunch. Inside, it is a monstrous botch than $10,000,000." of bad arrangement, bad lighting, bad ventila- On September 11th, Auditor-General Sny- tion, and the most bloated bad taste. From der replied: “The department has nothing this must be excepted Miss Oakley's beautiful to conceal. Everything that was paid for paintings, Mr. Mercer's admirable tiles per- by the foot was measured, and everything petuating a historic State industry; the work that was paid for by the pound was weighed, of Van Ingen, and the sculptures of Barnard- :roll people.” 444 The Keystone Crime 445 Only twenty-seven days remained before election. Mr. Carson replied that he did not understand Mr. Berry's list. Let us have an example of what Mr. Carson did not understand: Specified in orig. inal contract Paid by Board of Described in con- Public Grounds and tract as Buildings Pages 56–74, Wainscoting (Wood) $889,940.00 and for their honest wares these artists were as much underpaid as the contractors were over- paid for their dishonest wares. On October 4th, the Capitol was dedicated, and Mr. Roosevelt made a speech there. On October 9th, Mr. Berry asked Penny- packer by what right he and his board had spent money to complete the building in dis- regard of the law: Section 10: “Expenditures shall not be so construed as to authorize the Commissioners of Public Grounds and Build- ings to complete the present Capitol building." The building contract had covered all fix- tures. It called for wood wainscoting seven feet high. Pennypacker put up wainscoting twelve feet high and paid Sanderson for this, while the building contractor was also paid for the same seven feet. Thus the State paid twice. This is one of many examples of Pennypacker's usurpation of the completing of the building. The governor did not put up the wainscoting himself, but he approved his agent's (Huston's) sanction of it, and must be regarded as the responsible principal in this as well as in all the similar transactions. To Berry's question as to what legal right he had to do so, he remained silent. On the same day Berry wrote asking the attorney-general. Hampton Carson, for an opinion as to the legality of this, adding that he should stop further payments until he was sure. He subjoined a list of items of usurpa- tion. Mr. Carson wrote that he could not under- stand this—but let us remember that it was only twenty-seven days before election. On October 20th, Mr. Carson said in a campaign speech: “The man who makes the accusations must sustain them ... the pub- lic is sick of these charges which never ma- terialize.” On October 24th, Mr. Pennypacker said: “I know of no graft. I do not believe there has been any. I do not like the term.” On October 31st, Berry again wrote Car- son, more fully as requested. (It will be ob- served that Mr. Carson had asked for de- tails, the gathering of which had covered twenty-one of the twenty-seven days remain- ing before election.) The vault doors and vestibules referred to on page 87 are included in the contract with Payne & Company (the building contractors) and paid for in the lump sum received by him. They have been paid for a second time by the Board of Public ATTORNEY GENERAL HAMPTON CARSON, Who attempted to absolve the gratters of wrong doing. 446 Everybody's Magazine Grounds and Buildings, as shown in the accompany ing voucher, and no allowance has been made to the State. . . . A special schedule of forty-one items and a general schedule of twenty-three items were made. . . . A bid was received from J. H. Sanderson on every item in both lists. . . . For instance: Special Schedule, Item 2. Leather-covered easy armchair (mahogany), Series F, $32.65 net. ... Some of these prices are fifty per cent. lower than any other bid. . . . Item 22 is ambiguously ... drawn as to cover all furniture . . . to be used. ... “Item 22. . . . Designed furniture, fit- tings, furnishings, and decorations, of either wood- work, stone, marble, bronze, mosaic, glass, and up- holstery"; and the bidder is asked to bid per foot, without a definite statement of what a foot of fur- niture is. ... The results: There are six "leather- covered easy armchairs (mahogany)” in my private office, which are accurately described in Item 2 (special schedule), and which are offered by Mr. Sanderson to the State under this item for $32.65 each, and which were furnished by him under Item 22 by the foot at $138 each, or more than four times the original offer. In plain words, Sanderson got up two lists of furniture, one to fool the public with, the other to rob the Treasury with. The first was like any ordinary price-list containing chairs, tables, etc., and their prices. In the second list, lurking unprominently, was “Item 22” with its tricky wording about designed furniture per foot. So the first list was not used (except to fool the public), and Sanderson put in all the furniture under “per foot” contracts. Thus Mr. Berry's “leather- covered easy armchairs” were made to cost $138 each, instead of $32.65. This was what Mr. Berry had shown Mr. Carson. The above extract is necessary to throw a clear light on the nature of Mr. Carson's re- ply, on the same day: “I again point out to you the importance of supplying me from the records of your department with the data which I have called for.” Mr. Berry was no lawyer; Mr. Carson was. The twenty-seven dangerous days were tided over, and on November 6th Mr. Carson's party triumphed. That day safely passed we find Mr. Carson saying on November ioth: “The time for talk has ceased. . .. These charges I intend to investigate, and nothing will be overlooked.” Mr. Carson did investigate the charges, and his manner of doing so was this: Through the ensuing weeks he addressed letters to Huston and Sanderson, asking them if the charges were true, and received replies that they were not. This form of investigation appears to have satisfied Mr. Carson. His report, published in January, 1907, says: “Upon the evidence thus far submitted-and speaking of that only—I do not hesitate to say that, in my judgment, there is no trace of crime. . . . In regard to overcharges ... the testimony is harmonious.” Thus Mr. Carson, having said to the thieves, “Please tell me honestly, did you steal anything?" and hearing the thieves harmoniously an- swer “No,” concludes: “Unless fraud is shown ... the attorney-general will have no function to perform. I submit these views. . . . To have withheld them would be trifling with a grave subject." It may be justly wondered how Mr. Car- son managed to think that he had not trifled with a grave subject when to cite one in- stance from his report) we find the follow- ing: On November 2, 1906, he asks Sanderson: “If there were subcontracts, please give the names of the subcontractors, and state the difference between the price paid by you to them and the prices charged the State.” And Sanderson answers, November 17th: “My rights . . . are in no way affected by the cost to me of the article, or by the fact that I did or did not sublet the con- tract." The attorney-general had put his finger on the vital point; and, being told that it was none of his business, was satisfied by this impudent withholding of what he had asked for. In February, 1907, the investigating com- mission was appointed, it having been a strong "plank” in the Republican platform during the fall campaign. In March the investigating commission be- gan its sittings, and, with James Scarlet as its counsel, became historic. It owed much at the outset to the North American, through whose help it speedily reached the subcon- tractors. Most of the papers, especially The Press, have played a public-spirited part throughout. In a very few days Pennsyl- vania knew that once more it had been the huge, laughable, contemptible dupe of those whom it had just put back into power after a momentary defection, a flash in the pan of in- telligent independence. Pennsylvania learned about the bootblack stand, the rostrums, the chandeliers. Pennsylvania learned that, It had paid for putty instead of mahogany. It had paid for plaster instead of marble. It had paid $73 for "special" andirons that had been sold everywhere for twelve years at $23. It had paid for mantels and fireplaces that had no chimnies. It had paid- The Keystone Crime 447 $625.60 for a corner cup- That in October, 1903, Huston had been suspected board........costing $50.00 by Mr. Green, superintendent of the building, and $6,292.80 for umbrella tubs.costing $1,851.00 the suspicion had been communicated. $18,160.80 for wardrobes...costing $1,645.00 That in December, 1904, Snyder had suspected $28,630.40 for mantels ..... costing $1,455.00 Huston, and had asked for more definite data, which $211,317.40 for desks .......costing $49,085.50 he did not get till the following fall, though he could $769,038.48 for painting and have stopped payments at any time. decorating....costing $175,042.70 That (and here is the darkest fact of all) im- $887,229.60 for designed mediately on Berry's election in November, 1905, woodwork....costing $136,685.75 money began to be paid out in greater and greater $1,426,705.71 for chandeliers..costing $526,948.29 haste. $2,072,450.55 for metallic filing That between March 1 and May 2, 1906, $3,476,- cases, etc.....costing $412,500.00 122.63 was paid out, partly for goods not yet delivered. Huston and Sanderson presently fled the That on May 2d, $950,912.72 was paid to San- derson, partly for work not yet done. state. And Pennypacker? Pennypacker, That the minutes of the board were approved next who declared: day, and so Berry on the 6th of May found matters “ The board has been more than ordinarily when he entered office. watchful in order to prevent possible abuse." “In several instances I personally . . . sent int Such, shorn of many details not essential two men to verify the measurements. ...". to its telling, is the story. Who really got the “The board ... has faithfully wrought a money? Will any one be punished? Or will good work. . ..” “I know of no graft. I this merely carry on successfully the tradition do not believe there has been any. ..." of “addition, division, and silence"? * In his testimony before the Investigation (page 2,829) this is what he says: I am not familiar with the details. I do not know that that could be expected of me.” And That the political case of Pennsylvania is a (page 2,846): “If we did not get good work, then I very sick one, both acute and chronic, can was deceived and we were all deceived ... and it is an especially wicked thing. scarce have escaped the notice of the reader who has followed this narrative down, from And Snyder? Snyder, the auditor-gen Cameron through Quay and the suicides, to eral, who joined Pennypacker in his report this point. And how, it will naturally be that “So far as we know, not a dollar has asked, and why, has any community of self- been misspent. ..." “The board ... respecting people tolerated such a state of awaits with entire confidence the approval things for forty years? The briefest answer of the people. ..." is—the people of Pennsylvania are not self- Let us see from his own words how he per- respecting. In the place of self-respect they formed his office: substitute an impregnable complacency. Yet this explanation is inadequate. Mere com- Testimony, page 2,967: Q. But you paid them without knowing whether they were correct or not? placency would hardly sit down and be robbed A. I did. for forty years, getting leaky reservoirs and (Page 3,011): Q. What did you understand was putty mahogany for its money; and we find the foot measurement? upon analysis that with complacency must A. I have never understood that. Q. Did you ever try to understand it? be joined also stupidity and cowardice. It A. No, sir. is a sweeping indictment, and of course it ap- Q. How would you understand the bills, how plies to by no means every voter in the State; audit them, if you did not understand that? but it does apply to the majority, since it is the A. I depended entirely on the architect. ... I may have been a little easy. majority that elects. Yet still the question (Page 3,048): Q. For my own satisfaction, just remains, How does all this come about? tell me what mental processes you underwent when How is it that Pennsylvania is not only dis- you audited a bill? honest-all states are that at times—but A. I ... saw that the additions and multiplica- tions were correct. ridiculous as well? The reader has heard of monopolies and The Investigation sat until the end of June, trusts. The Government of Pennsylvania has taking 900,000 words of testimony. It found been, since the Civil War, a monopoly, an enor- (among other things)— mous trust, almost without competition, like That millions had been paid on Huston's unsup- * Before these words are published, seventeen persons will have been named for indictment, unless the Commission change ported, unverified word. its present plan. 448 Everybody's Magazine Standard Oil, but greatly inferior, because he ran the whole way, glad to forget he owed Standard Oil gives good oil, while the Pennsyl- the Capitol exposure to the independent party, vania machine gives bad government. It shields pretending hard to believe that it was exag- and fosters child labor; we have seen how gerated. He elected, instead of the indepen- it steals; it has given Philadelphia sewage dent candidate for mayor, a machine mavor, to drink, smoke to breathe, extravagant gas, who in the words of a machine leader "has a vile street-car system, and a police well- been taking orders for thirty years,” and nigh contemptible. This monopoly rests whose latest act of obedience has been the upon two special causes-a special soil and signing—against strong protest--of a street- a special people; coal and iron and the tariff railroad bill that gives about as much to the could not by themselves have brought a com- interested few and about as little to the citi- munity so low. It required a people ready zens as the Capitol job itself-all this quite in and willing to be brought low, and the people the face of the mayor's paraded promises of were there—the Pennsylvania “Dutch," and independent watchfulness of the city's welfare. the Quakers. The former, to their good Were this mayor wholly harmless, he would qualities of thrift and a certain stolid horse- be wholly ridiculous. For this mayor neither sense, unite a servile acquiescence in things the “Dutch" nor the Quaker is to blame. as they are; no “Dutch” county has ever The Irish, moved presumably by the gifts to turned its boss out. The Quaker to his well- their church of the notorious leader of the known good qualities adds a timidity that “contractors'combine," voted for a despotism also acquiesces in things as they are. This far worse than that they had crossed the seas racial acquiescence is at the bottom of Penn- to escape--this to the disgust of the better sylvania's plight, and has drugged every Catholic element. Thus has Philadelphia, standard, save money. Lethargically pros- like the dog in Scripture, returned to its own perous, Pennsylvania is all belly and no mem- vomit. bers, and its ideals do not rise higher than the The people of Pennsylvania walked last belly. Of the traditional Philadelphian this autumn by thousands and thousands through is as true as of the rustic, only it is more shame their new Capitol, and to most of them it was ful. Well-to-do, at ease, with no wish but to superb and beautiful. Its total lack of in- be left undisturbed, the traditional Philadel- dividuality and distinction, its great aimless phian shrinks from revolt. When wrongs so bulk, its bilious, overeaten decoration, its outrageous as the Gas Lease are thrust at him, swollen bronzes, its varicose chandeliers, ex- he may rouse for a while, but it is grudgingly pressed their notion of the grand and the de- in his heart of hearts; and when the party of sirable. Now that they have learned that it reform makes mistakes, he jumps at these to was all another robbery, and that their carved cover his retreat back into the ranks of acqui- mahogany is mostly putty, they are not much escence. disturbed. Do not pity them. They After electing a reform party in Novem- deserve everything they get, for ber, 1905, he immediately began to notice all Pennsylvania is to-day a government that the party failed to reform and to ignore by knaves at the expense of fools. all that it accomplished. He jeered at every Black is the retrospect; the outlook some- piece of mismanagement of the City Party; it what brightens. Governor Stuart is so much made him happy; it was another pretext for better than his party that his candidacy saved him to return to the party that had been man- it. The State is fairly restless. Harrisburg aging the Treasury for forty years. One has shaken off the den of thieves. Pittsburg year of independence is trying to. Philadel- was too much for him. phia may bring up the Long before its close he rear; its spark of liberty was tired and fright- is not quite trampled ened of it. The next out; it may some day November, 1906, he cease to be the dirtiest began to run back; smear on the map of the following February the United States. J.N.MARCHAND In Blackwater Pot By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS Author of "The Heart of the Ancient ll'ood," "The Return to the Trails," etc. Illustrations by J. N. Marchand THE lesson of fear was one that Hender- into the slow swirls of Blackwater Pot, was T son learned late. He learned it well, not a dozen feet from the lip of the falls. however, when the time came. And it was Henderson sat at the foot of a ragged white Blackwater Pot that taught him. birch that leaned from the upper rim of the Sluggishly, reluctantly, impotently, the pot. He held his pipe unlighted, while he spruce logs followed one another round and watched the logs with a half fascinated stare. round the circuit of the great stone Pot. The Outside, in the river, he saw them, in a clum- circling water within was smooth, and deep, sy, panic haste, wallowing down the white and black, but streaked with foam. At one rapids to their awful plunge. When a log side a deep rent in the rocky rim opened upon came down close along shore, its fate hung the sluicing current of the river, which rushed for a second or two in doubt. It might shoot on, quivering and seething, to plunge with a straight on, over the lip, into the wavering roar into the terrific caldron of the falls. Out curtain of spray, and vanish into the horror of that thunderous caldron, filled with huge of the caldron. Or, at the last moment, the tramplings and the shriek of tortured torrents, eddy might reach out stealthily and drag it rose a white curtain of spray, which every into the sullen, wheeling procession within now and then swayed upward and drenched the Pot. All that it gained here, however, the green birches that grew about the rim of was a terrible kind of respite, a breathing the pot. For the break in the rim, which space of agonized suspense. As it circled caught at the passing current and sucked it around, and came again to the opening by 449 450 Everybody's Magazine which it had entered, it might continue on another eventless revolution, or it might, ac- cording to the whim of the eddy, be cast forth irretrievably into the clutch of the awful sluice. Sometimes two logs, after a pause in what seemed like a secret death struggle, would crowd each other out and go over the falls together. And sometimes, on the other hand, both would make the circuit safely again and again. But always, at the cleft in the rim of the Pot, there was the moment of suspense, the shuddering, terrible pause. It was this recurring moment that seemed to fasten itself balefully upon Henderson's imagination, so that he forgot to smoke. He had looked down into Blackwater before, but never when there were any logs in the Pot. Moreover, on this particular morning, he was overwrought with weariness. For a lit- tle short of three days he had been at the ut- most tension of body, brain, and nerve, in hot but wary pursuit of a desperado whom it was his duty, as deputy sheriff of his county, to capture and bring to justice. This out- law, a French half-breed known through the length and breadth of the wild backwoods county as “Red Pichot," was the last but one-and accounted the most dangerous— of a band that Henderson had undertaken to break up. Henderson had been deputy for two years—and owed his appointment primarily to his preeminent fitness for this very task. Unacquainted with fear, he was at the same time unrivaled through the back- woods counties for his subtle woodcraft, his sleepless endurance, and his cunning. It was two years now since he had set his hand to the business. One of the gang had been hanged. Two were in the penitentiary, on life sentence. Henderson had justified his appointment—to every one except himself. For while Pichot, and his gross-witted tool, “Bug” Mitchell, went unhanged, Henderson felt himself on probation, if not shamed. Mitchell he despised. But Pichot, the brains of the gang, he honored with a personal hatred that held a streak of rivalry. For Pichot, though a beast for cruelty and treachery, and with the murder of a woman on his black record—which placed him, according to Hen- derson's ideas, in a different category from a mere killer of men-was at the same time a born leader and of a courage that none could question. Some chance dash of Scotch High- land blood in his mixed veins had set a mop of hot red hair above his black, implacable eyes and cruel dark face. It had touched his villainies, too, with an imagination that made them the more atrocious. And Hen- derson's hate for him as a man was mixed with respect for the adversary worthy of his powers. Reaching the falls, Henderson had been forced to acknowledge that, once again, Pi- chot had outwitted him on the trail. Satis- fied that his quarry was by this time far out of reach among the tangled ravines on the other side of Two Mountains, he dismissed the three tired river men who constituted his posse, bidding them go on down the river to Greensville and wait for him. It was his plan to hunt alone for a couple of days, in the hope of catching his adversary off guard. He had an ally, unsuspected and invaluable, in a long-legged, half-wild youngster of a girl who lived alone with her father in a clearing about a mile below the falls, and who regard- ed Henderson with a childlike hero worship. This shy little savage, whom all the Settle- ment knew as “Baisley's Sis,” had an in- tuitive knowledge of the wilderness and the trails that rivaled even Henderson's accom- plished woodcraft; and the indomitable dep- uty “set great store," as he would have put it, by her friendship. He would go down pres- ently to the clearing and ask some questions of the child. But first he wanted to do a bit of thinking. It was while he was looking down into the terrible eddy that his efforts to think failed him, and his pipe went out, and his interest in the fortunes of the captive logs gradually took the hold of a nightmare upon his overwrought imagination. One after one he would mark, snatched in by the capricious eddy and held back a little while from its doom. One after one he would see crowded out at last, by inexplicable whim, and hurled on into the raging horror of the falls. He fell to personifying this captive log or that, endowing it with sentience, and imagining its emotions each time it circled shuddering past the cleft in the rim, once more precari- ously reprieved. At last, either because he was more deeply exhausted than he knew, or because he had fairly dropped asleep with his eyes open and had let his fantastic imagin- ings slip into a veritable dream, he felt him- self suddenly become identified with one of the logs. It was one that was just drawing around to the fateful cleft. Would it win past once more? No-it was too far out! It felt the grasp of the outward suction-soft and insidious at first, then resistless as the In Blackwater Pot 451 it had been held by a pike-pole, began to. move. A moment later the sharp, steel- armed end of the pike-pole came down smartly on the forward end of the log, within falling of a mountain. With straining nerves and pounding heart Henderson strove to hold it back by sheer will and the wrestling of his eyes. But it was no use. Slowly the head of the log turned outward from its circling fellows, quivered for a moment in the cleft, then shot smoothly forth into the sluice. With a groan Henderson came to his senses, starting up, and catching instinctively at the butt of the heavy Colt's in his belt. At the same instant the coil of a rope settled over his shoulders, pinioning his arms to his sides, and he was jerked backward with a violence that fairly lifted him over the projecting root of the birch. As he fell his head struck a stump; and he knew nothing more. When he came to his senses, he found him- self in a most bewildering position. He was lying face downward along a log, his mouth pressed upon the rough bark. His arms and legs were in the water, on either side of the log. Other logs moved past him sluggishly. For a moment he thought himself still in the grip of his nightmare, and he struggled to wake himself. The struggle revealed to him that he was bound fast upon the log. At this his wits cleared up, with a pang that was more near despair than anything he had ever known. Then his nerve steadied itself back into its wonted control. He realized what had befallen him. His en- emies had back-trailed him, and had caught him off his guard. He was just where, in his awful dream, he had imagined himself as being. He was bound to one of the logs, down in the great stone pot of Blackwater Eddy. For a second or two the blood in his veins ran ice, as he braced himself to feel the log lurch out into the sluice and plunge into the maelstrom of the abyss. Then he observed that the other logs were overtaking and pass- ing him. His log, indeed, was not moving at all. Evidently, then, it was being held by some one. He tried to look around, but found himself so fettered that he could lift his face only a few inches from the log. This enabled him to see the whole surface of the eddy, and the fateful cleft, and out across the raving torrents into the white curtain that swayed above the caldron. But he could not, with the utmost twisting and stretching of his neck, see more than a couple of feet up the smooth stone sides of the Pot. As he strained on his bonds he heard a harsh chuckle behind him; and the log, sud- denly loosed with a jerk that showed him J.N.M HE WATCHED THE LOGS WITH A HALF-FASCINATED STARE. a dozen inches of Henderson's head, biting a secure hold. The log again came to a stop. Slowly, under pressure from the other end of the pike-pole, it rolled outward, submerging Henderson's right shoulder, and turning his face till he could see all the way up the sides of the Pot. What he saw, on a ledge about three feet above the water, was Red Pichot, holding the pike-pole and smiling down upon him smoothly. On the rim above squatted Bug Mitchell, scowling, and gripping his knife as if he thirsted to settle all scores on the instant. Imagination was lacking in Mit- chell's make-up; and he was impatient-so far as he dared to be-of Pichot's fantastic procrastinatings. When Henderson's eyes met the evil, smil- ing glance of his enemy, they were steady and cold as steel. To Henderson, who had al- NYARCHAND WILAT HE SAW WAS RED PICHOT, SMILING DOWN UPON HIM SMOOTHLY. 432 In Blackwater Pot 453 ways, in every situation, felt himself master there remained now no mastery but that of his own will, his own spirit. In his estima. tion there could be no death so dreadful but that to let his spirit cower before his ad- versary would be tenfold worse. Helpless though he was, in a position that was igno- miniously horrible, and with an appalling doom close before his eyes, his nerve never failed him. With cool contempt and defi- ance he met Red Pichot's smile. “I've always had an idee," said the half- breed presently, in a smooth voice that pene- trated the mighty vibrations of the falls, “ez how a chap on a log could paddle roun' this yere eddy fur a hell of a while, afore he'd hev to git sucked out into the sluice!” As a theory this was undoubtedly inter- esting. But Henderson made no answer. “I've held that idee," continued Pichot, after a civil pause, “but I hain't never yet found a man, nor a woman nuther, as was willin' to give it a fair trial. Them as I've asked to try it jest chucked up their han's after the first round, an’ went on over with- out a word of apology." “I'm sorry I can't spit on you, Pichot," remarked Henderson at this point. “Don't mention it,” answered Pichot politely. “Aw, jab yer pole into his guts, an' shove him off!” interjected Mitchell. "You keep yer mouth shet, ye swine!” re- torted Pichot. “What do you know about how to treat a gentleman? You ain't got no repose. But ez I was about to say, Mr. Henderson, when we was so rudely inter rupted, I feel sure ye're the man to oblige me. I've left yer arms kinder free, least- ways from the elbows down, an' yer legs also, more er less, so's ye'll be able to paddle easy like. The walls of the Pot's all worn so smooth, below high-water mark, there's nothin' to ketch on to, so there'll be nothin' to take off ver attention. I'm hopin' ye'll give the matter a right fair trial. But ef ye gits tired an' feels like givin' up, why, don't consider my feelin's. There's the falls a-waitin'. An' I ain't a-goin' to bear no grudge ef ye don't quite come up to my ex- pectations of you." As Pichot ceased his measured harangue, he jerked his pike-pole loose. Instantly the log began to forge forward, joining the re- luctant procession. For a few moments Hen- derson felt like shutting his eyes and his teeth, and letting himself go on with all speed to the inevitable doom. Then, with scorn of the weak impulse, he changed his mind. To the last gasp he would maintain his hold on life, and give fortune a chance to save him. When he could no longer resist, then it would be fate's responsibility, not his. The log to which he was bound was on the extreme outer edge of the procession, and Henderson realized that there was every probability of its being at once crowded out, the moment it came to the exit. With a des- perate effort he succeeded in catching the log nearest to him, pushing it ahead, and at last, just as they came opposite the cleft, steering his own log into its place. The next second it shot quivering out into the sluice; and Henderson, with a sudden cold sweat jumping out all over him, circled slowly past the awful cleft. A shout of ironical congrat- ulation came to him from the watchers on the brink above. But he hardly heard it, and heeded it not at all. He was striving fran- tically, paddling forward with one hand and backward with the other, to steer his slug- gish, deep-floating log from the outer to the inner circle. He had already observed that to be on the outer edge would mean instant doom for him, because the outward suction was stronger underneath than on the surface, and his weighted log caught its force before the others did. His arms were so bound that only from the elbows down could he move them freely. He did, however, by a struggle that left him gasping, succeed in working in behind another log—just in time to see that log, too, sucked out into the abyss, leaving him, once more, on the deadly outer flank of the circling procession. This time Henderson did not know whether the watchers on the brink laughed or not, as he won past the cleft. He was scheming desperately to devise some less exhausting tactics. Steadily and rhythmically, but with his utmost force, he back-paddled with both hands and feet, till the progress of his log was almost stopped. Then he succeeded in catching yet another log as it passed, and maneuvering in behind it. By this time he was half way around the Pot again. Yet again, by his desperate back-paddling, he checked his progress--and presently, by most cunning manipulation, managed to edge in behind still another log, so that when he again came round to the cleft there were two logs between him and doom. The outer- most of these, however, was dragged instantly forth into the fury of the sluice, thrust upon, 454 Everybody's Magazine as it was, by the grip of the suction upon But what was now his utmost, he realized, Henderson's own deep log. Feeling himself would very soon be far beyond his powers. on the point of utter exhaustion, he never- Well, there was nothing to do but keep on theless continued back-paddling, and steering, trying. Around and around, and again and and working inward, till he had succeeded again around the terrible smooth, deliberate in getting three files of logs between him- circuit he went, sparing himself every ounce self and the outer edge. Then, almost blind of effort that he could, and always shutting and with the blood roaring so loud in his his eyes as the log beside him plunged out ears that he could hardly hear the thunder of into the sluice. Gradually, then, he felt the falls, he hung on his log praying that himself becoming stupefied by the cease- strength might flow back speedily into his lessly recurring horror, with the prolonged veins and nerves. suspense between. · He must sting himself Not till he had twice more made the cir- back to the full possession of his faculties by cuit of the Pot, and twice more had seen a log another burst of desperate effort. Fiercely sucked out from his very elbow to leap into he caught at log after log, without a let-up, the white horror of the abyss, did Henderson till, luck having favored him again, he found stir. The brief stillness, controlled by his himself on the inner instead of the outer edge will, had rested him for the moment. He of the procession. Then an idea flashed was cool now, keen to plan, cunning to hus- into his fast-clouding brain, and he cursed band his forces. Up to the very last second himself for not having thought of it before. that he could maintain his hold on life, he At the very center of the eddy, of course, there held that there was always a chance of the must be a sort of core of stillness. By a unexpected. vehement struggle he attained it, and avoided With now just one log remaining between crossing it. Working gently and warily he himself and death, he let himself go past the kept the log right across the axis of the eddy, cleft-and saw that one log go out. Then, where huddled a crowd of chips and sticks. being close to the wall of the Pot, he tried to Here the log turned slowly, very slowly, on its delay his progress by clutching at the stone own center; and for a few seconds of ex- with his left hand, and by dragging upon it quisite relief Henderson let himself sink into with his foot. But the stone surface was a sort of lethargy. worn so smooth by the age-long polishing He was aroused by a sudden shot and the of the eddy, that these efforts availed him spat of a heavy bullet into the log about three little. Before he realized it, he was almost inches from his head. Even through the sha- around again; and only by the most desper- king thunder of the cataract he thought he ate struggle did he succeed in saving himself. recognized the voice of his own heavy Colt's; There was no other log near by, this time, for and the idea of that tried weapon being turned him to seize and thrust forward in his place. against him filled him with childish rage. It was simply a question of his restricted Without lifting his head he lay and cursed, paddling, with hands and feet, against the grinding his teeth impotently. A few seconds outward draft of the current. For nearly a later came another shot—and this time the ball minute the log hung in doubt, just before went into the log just beside his right arm. the opening, the current sucking at its head Then he understood, and woke up. Pichot to turn it outward, and Henderson paddling was a dead shot. This was his intimation that against it not only with hands and feet but Henderson must get out into the procession with every ounce of will and nerve that his again. At the center of the eddy he was not body contained. At last, inch by inch, he sufficiently entertaining to his executioners. conquered. His log moved past the gate of The thought of getting a bullet in his arm, death; and dimly, again, that ironical voice which would merely disable him and de- came down to him, piercing the roar. liver him over helpless to the outdraft, shook Once past, Henderson fell to back-paddling him with something near a panic. He fell to again--not so violently now—till other logs paddling with all his remaining strength, and came by within his reach and he could work drove his log once more into the horrible himself into temporary safety behind them. circuit. The commendatory remarks with He was soon forced to the conviction that if which Pichot greeted this move went past he strove at just a shade under his utmost, his ears unheard. he was able to hold his own and keep one log Up to this time there had been a strong sun always between himself and the opening. shining down into the Pot; and the trees about BUT IN THE SECOND THAT HIS EYES MET HENDERSON'S, THEY MET THE FLAME-SPURT OF HENDERSON S RIFLE. 455 456 Everybody's Magazine its rim had stood unstirred by any wind. Now, however, a sudden darkness settled over everything, and sharp, fitful gusts drew in through the cleft, helping to push the logs back. Henderson was by this time so near fainting from exhaustion that he hardly realized the way those great indrawing gusts, laden with spray, were helping him. He was paddling, and steering, and maneuver- ing for the inner circuit, almost mechan- ically. When suddenly the blackness about him was lighted with a blue glare, and the thunder crashed over the echoing Pot with an explosion that outroared the falls, he hardly noted it. When the skies seemed to open, letting down the rain in torrents, with a wind that blew it almost level, it made no difference to him. But to this fierce storm, which bent almost double the trees around the rim of the Pot, Red Pichot and Mitchell were by no means so indifferent. About sixty or seventy yards below the falls they had a snug retreat that was also an outlook. It was a cabin, built in a recess of the wall of the gorge, and to be reached only by a narrow pathway easy of defense. When the storm broke in its fury, Pichot sprang to his feet. “Let's git back to the Hole!” he cried to his companion, knocking the fire out of his pipe. “We kin watch out jest as well from there, an' see him come over, when his time comes. It won't be yet a while, fer this blow'll keep the logs in.” “Let's jab the pike-pole into his back first!” urged Mitchell. But Pichot turned on him savagely. “It'd be too good fer him!” he snarled, letting slip, for the first time, his deadly smoothness. “D'ye fergit old Bill, with his neck stretched; an' Dandy, and the rest o' the boys, down yonder, where they won't never git a smell o' the woods no more? Come on, an' hold yer fool jaw. He's got a good while yet to be cursin' the mother what bore him.” Pichot led the way off through the strain- ing and hissing trees, and Mitchell followed, growling but obedient. Henderson, faint upon his log in the raving tumult, knew nothing of their going. They had not been gone more than two minutes when a drenched little dark face, with black hair plastered over it in wisps, peered out from among the lashing birches and gazed down anxiously into the Pot. At the sight of Henderson on his log lying quite close to the edge, and far back from the dreadful cleft, the terror in the wild eyes gave way to inexpressible relief. The face drew back; and an instant later a bare-legged child appeared, carrying the pike-pole that Pichot had tossed into the bushes. Heedless of the sheeting volleys of the rain and the fierce gusts that whipped her dripping home- spun petticoat about her knees, she clam- bered skilfully down the rock wall to the ledge whereon Pichot had stood. Henderson was just beginning to recover from his daze and to notice the madness of the storm, when he felt something strike sharply on the log behind him. He knew it was the impact of a pike-pole—and he won- dered, with a kind of scornful disgust, what Pichot could be wanting of him now. He felt the log being dragged backwards, then held close against the smooth wall of the Pot. A moment more and his bonds were being cut-but laboriously, as if with a small knife and by weak hands. Then he caught sight of the hands, which were little and brown and rough-and realized with a great burst of wonder and tenderness that “Baisley's Şis,” by some miracle of miracles, had come to his rescue. In a few seconds the ropes fell apart, and he lifted himself, to see the child stooping down with anxious ado- ration in her eyes. “Sis!” he cried. “You!” “Oh, Mr. Henderson, come quick!" she panted. “They may git back any minnit.” And clutching him by the shoulder, she tried to pull him up by main strength. But Hen- derson needed no urging. Life, with the re- turn of hope, had surged back into nerve and muscle; and in hardly more time than it takes to tell it, the two had clambered side by side to the rim of the Pot, and darted into the covert of the tossing trees. No sooner were they in hiding than Hen- derson remembered his rifle and slipped back to get it. His enemies had not discovered it. It had fallen into the moss, but the well- oiled, perfect-fitting chamber had kept its cartridges dry. With that weapon in his hands, Henderson felt himself once more mas- ter of the situation. Weariness and appre- hension together slipped from him, and one purpose took complete possession of him. He would settle with Red Pichot right there, on the spot where he had been taught the terrible lesson of fear. He felt that he could not really feel himself a man again, unless he could wipe out the whole score before the sun of that day should set. In Blackwater Pot 457 The rain and wind were diminishing now; footsteps. Then Pichot went by at a swing- the lightning was a mere shuddering gleam ing stride, with Mitchell skulking obediently over the hill-tops beyond the river; and the at his heels. thunder no longer made itself heard above Henderson half raised his rifle, and his face the tumult of the falls. Henderson's plans turned gray and cold like steel. But it was were soon laid. Then he turned to Sis, who no part of his plan to shoot even Red Pichot stood silent and motionless close at his side, in the back. From the manner of the two her big, alert, shy eyes watching like a hunted ruffians, it was plain that they had no sus- deer's the trail by which Red Pichot might picion of the turn that affairs had taken. return to learn his victim's fate. She was To them it was as sure as that two and two trembling in her heart, at every moment that make four, that Henderson was still on his Henderson lingered within that zone of log in the Pot, if he had not already gone over peril. But she would not presume to sug- into the caldron. As they reached the rim, gest any move. Suddenly Henderson laid Henderson stepped out into the trail behind an arm about her little shoulders. them, his gun balanced ready like a trap- “You saved my life, kid!” he said softly. shooter's. “However did you know I was down there As Pichot, on the very brink, looked down in that hell?” into the Pot and saw that his victim was no “I jest knowed it was you, when I seen longer there, he saw also that half the logs Red Pichot an' Bug Mitchell a-trackin' some that had swung there when he went away one," answered the child, still keeping her had been sucked out. The wind that had eyes on the trail as if it were her part to see held them back for a time had also crowded that Henderson was not again taken un- an unusual mass of water into the eddy. awares. “I knowed it was you, Mister Hen- So, when the wind fell, there was an unwont- derson-an' I followed 'em; an' oh, I seen it ed energy to the outdra ft. The Pot was all, I seen it all! An' I 'most died-because still emptying itself vigorously, log after log I hadn't no gun! But I'd ’ave killed 'em being shot forth into the horror below. It both some day, sure, ef-ef they hadn't went was all very clear to Red Pichot, and he away! But they'll be back now right quick.” turned to Mitchell with a smile of mingled Henderson bent and kissed her wet black triumph and disappointment. head, saying, “Bless you, kid! You an' But, on the instant, the smile froze on his me'll always be pals, I reckon!” face. It was as if he had felt the cold gray At the kiss the child's face flushed, and, gaze of Henderson on the back of his neck. for one second forgetting to watch the trail, Some warning, certainly, was flashed to that she lifted glowing eyes to his. But he was mysterious sixth sense with which the people already looking away. of the wild, man or beast, seem sometimes “Come on!” he muttered. “This ain't no to be endowed. He wheeled like lightning, place for you an' me yet !” his revolver seeming to leap up from his belt Making a careful circuit through the thick with the same motion. But in the fraction of undergrowth swiftly, but silently as two a second that his eyes met Henderson's, they wildcats, the strange pair gained a dense cov- met the white flame-spurt of Henderson's rifle ert close beside the trail by which Pichot -and then, the dark. and Mitchell would probably return to the As Pichot's body collapsed, it toppled over rim of the Pot. Safely ambuscaded, Hen- the rim into Blackwater Pot, and fell across derson laid a hand firmly on the child's arm, two moving logs. Mitchell had thrown up resting it there for two or three seconds, as his hands, straight above his head, when a sign of silence. Pichot fell, knowing instantly that this was Minute after minute went by in the in- his only hope of escaping the same fate as tense stillness-intense because the wind had his leader's. One look at Henderson's face, dropped so suddenly that the world appeared however, satisfied him that he was not going to have gone breathless. At last the child, to be dealt with on the spot; and he set his whose ears were keener even than Hender- thick jaw stolidly. Then his eyes wandered son's, caught her breath with a little indraw down into the Pot, following the leader whom, ing gasp and looked up at her compan- in his way, he had loved, if ever he had loved ion's face. Henderson understood, and every any one or anything. Fascinated, his stare muscle stiffened. A moment later and he, followed the two logs as they journeyed too, heard the oncoming tread of hurried around, with Pichot's limp form, face up- 458 Everybody's Magazine ward, sprawled across them. They reached the cleft, turned, and shot forth into the ra- ving of the sluice—and a groan of horror burst from Mitchell's lips. By this Henderson knew what had happened—and, to his immeasur- able self-scorn, a qualm of remembered fear caught sickeningly at his heart. But nothing of this betrayed itself in his face or voice. “Come on, Mitchell!” he said briskly. “I'm in a hurry. You jest step along in front; an' see ye keep both hands well up over yer head, er ye'll be savin' the county the cost o' yer rope. Step out, now.” He stood aside, with Sis at his elbow, to make room. As Mitchell passed, his hands held high, a mad light flamed up into his sullen eyes, and he was on the point of spring- ing like a wolf at his captor's throat. But Henderson's look was cool and steady, and his gun held low. The impulse flickered out in the brute's dull veins. But as he glanced at Sis, he suddenly understood that it was she who had brought all this to pass. His black face snarled upon her like a wolf's at bay, with an inarticulate curse more horrible than any words could make it. With a shiver, the child slipped behind Henderson's back and hid her face. “Don't be skeered o' him, Kid, not one little mite!” said Henderson gently. “He ain't a-goin' to trouble this earth no more. An' I'm goin' to git yer father a job, helpin' me, down somewhere's near Greensville, be- cause I couldn't sleep nights, knowin' ye was runnin' round anywhere's near that hell-hole yonder!” The Lawn Mower By GEORGE HIBBARD Author of "Iduna, and Other Stories," "The Governor, and Other Stories," etc. Illustrations by Edmund Frederick M ISS SALLY ELLICOTT was visiting V at “Fairlawns," on the hill, with the Stanways. Mr. Walter Barrington was the guest of the Arthur Penrhyns in their dimin- utive cottage without any name at all, set in a small grass plot behind a very white picket fence just outside the village. “This is more than the third time of ask- ing," declared Barrington as he stood looking at the top of Sally's hat. She was seated at the edge of the fountain in the “Fairlawns” sunken garden, gazing at the reflection of her pretty, distressed face in the water. “I know, Walter," she replied earnestly. “Ever so many more times. It's extremely good of you to do it so often." She laughed nervously. “I speak as if you were kindly solicitous about a bad cold in my head." “Instead of wanting you to give me your- self and your life.” “That's it,” she said insistently, as she watched the sparkling drops fall from her slender fingers, which she had been dabbling in the water. “It's so important and for so long-and-and I'm afraid." “You admit you—like me." : 459 The Lawn Mower on the “I love you, Walter," she answered frank- other young people slowly approaching-a ly. “I am quite sure of it. But don't you man, and a young woman whose hat and see, we aren't like our grandfathers and dress had the little mature touches that in- grandmothers when the country was younger dicate the very youthful matron. and there was greater-republican simplicity. “I'm so glad we've found you," she cried We belong to the present, when so much as she caught sight of them, and came for- more is really necessary. We belong to a ward more rapidly. “We're having a family state and condition of life that has accus- talk-almost a family row. Dick and I tomed us to so many luxuries, artificialities can't make up our minds." perhaps, which still are to us very real ne- “It's about the new automobile," Stanway cessities. We have tastes and traditions that stated gloomily. .. require such a lot. Could we manage it?” “We positively must have another," sup- “I'm not an absolute pauper," he urged. plemented Mrs. Stanway, as she sank down “I've got a very decent income.” on the grass with utter disregard of her gown “Yes, but for to-day? What should we and the demands of dignity. “The point is have? What should we have in comparison, what we can afford.” for instance, with the Stanwavs?” “But,” protested Sally, opening her eyes, She turned her head swiftly and viewed "vou can have what you want, can't you?” the elaborate gardens, glanced up through “Do you think so?” Mrs. Stanway an- the vista of clipped trees, and let her eyes swered almost sharply. “When we've all we rest on the white marble pile of the big coun- can do to make both ends meet-to see that try house. the cost of the town house and the country “Oh, the Stanway standard!” he pro- house doesn't leave a gap between income tested. and expenses that can't be filled? With the "That is the standard,” she insisted, "for box at the opera in winter and the green- those who have lived our life. Oh, Walter, houses and gardens here in the summer and indeed I do love you dearly, but I am a the endless extras, we're always at our purses' modern girl and I am afraid. Is love in a and our wits' ends. But we must have a new cottage possible? Not with the wolf at the automobile—that's certain." door—there might be something dramatic in “The old Great Comet we've been running that—but with the prosaic, uninspiring con- is always getting out of order, you know," ditions of narrow means inside.” argued Stanway, "and besides the inconven- “I think we'd do very well.” ience, there's the continual bill for repairs. “I can't be certain and I can't decide, and So really in a way a new car will be an econ- there seems nothing to help me to decide," omy. Only, what one shall we buy?” she cried helplessly, shaking her hand so im- He fumbled in his pocket. “I've got all patiently that some of the drops splashed on the documents in the case here,” he contin- her cheek; she wiped them away with her ued, producing a handful of emblazoned cir- filmy handkerchief as if they were tears. culars and highly colored pamphlets. “I've “Of course a lot of money's necessary for been flooded with literature ever since the anything these times,” he admitted; "but we agents knew I was in the market for some- could manage.” thing.” “Think of all the Stanways' fortune. “I've studied all of them,” Mrs. Stanway They haven't more than enough. The ques- interposed. tion is, Can two thoroughly modern young “Now here's the Ariel,” Stanway pro- people be happy with less?” ceeded, opening a small book, the cover of “The Penrhyns," Barrington urged ear- which depicted a dashing maiden, accom- nestly, “have only what Arthur makes with panied by a young man who devoured her his illustrating; and she was a thoroughly with his eyes, driving a motor at what ap- and typically worldly young person before peared to be a good deal over the speed limit. she made this love match, living on the top “It is," he read, “a positive assurance of of the wave and in the lap of luxury and on Power. Power at the Wheel. Power for Hills. the fat of the land—though I'll confess that's Power for Emergencies. Reserve Power.” a trifle mixed.” “But,” broke in Mrs. Stanway, picking up Before she could answer, the sound of a "folder” with a picture representing a voices in earnest discussion reached their party, each member of which wore a su- ears. As they glanced up they saw two premely fatuous grin, charging airily up a 460 Everybody's Magazine and in the evening it would be truly useful for dinners and the theatre.” : “One trouble with these very high-power cars is that going slowly about town heats the engine, so that they are almost useless for such work,” Stanway suggested. “I want it, anyway,” insisted Mrs. Stan- way. “Y-yes," agreed Stanway doubtfully. “I know that it's an enormous extrava- gance, but I do want it so." "I say, let's do it,” Stanway broke out all at once emphatically. “Can we-can we afford it?" wailed Mrs. Stanway, instantly veering toward caution. “But I'd give anything to have it. I can economize. We can cut off a month of Eu- rope next spring. Now, my dear,” she said, turning to Şally, "you can begin to realize something of the cares of married life. Let me warn you to be careful.” “I know," replied the girl with a greater seriousness than the half-jesting tone of her hostess demanded. “We haven't the money, I know that," Mrs. Stanway continued, resuming the dis- cussion where she had momentarily dropped it. small mountain, “every day adds to the practical triumphs of the Autocrat. Its re- liable air-cooled motor is a marvel of flexi- bility and quick responsiveness, to control. It is great in strength because of its lightness in weight and its perfectly correct mechanical construction.” "The Ariel's transmission and shafts," interposed Stanway vigorously, “are made of chromatic alembic steel. It has the most effective and noiseless chain drive yet de- vised, multiple disc ". “Still,” interrupted Mrs. Stanway rapidly, “there's the Aurora Borealis, with its sex- tuple opposed motor placed crosswise hori- zontally in front of the chassis and held in position by the three-point motor support, with the new pattern automatic carbureter and jump spark ignition from storage battery, Model AA, only $5,600." “I can have a six-cylinder sixty horse power Ariel, they write, for $8,500.". “Dick," announced Mrs. Stanway briskly, “I'm coming more and more to one conclu- sion, that if we're going in for a good machine we'd better have the best- " “What do you mean?” “A foreign, imported seventy horse-power Gaillard, for example,” she declared boldly. “If you're striking that level, why not the biggest Theresa and be done with it?”. “Do you think we could !”cried Mrs. Stan- way, clasping her hands rapturously. “I know! The seventy-two horse-power The- resa with the removable Limosine top, and with all the interior woodwork of Dutch mahogany. The upholstering is of dark-blue goatskin. The fixtures include a card-table, secretary, sideboard, clock, mirrors, incan- descent electric lights- “That has nothing to do with the real automobile," Stanway returned warningly. “The Gaillard is only $18,000 and can't be beat for the workmanship of the engine.” “The Theresa is $22,000, only $4,000 more, and if we get it, we can be sure there is nothing finer.” “Of course," assented her husband; "one can't make omelets without breaking eggs.” “The more I think of it," asserted his wife, “the more I feel that I can't be happy a minute without it. Imagine all the nice things we could do with it-going off by our selves for trips through the country, or run- ning away from the house here when it's full of stupid people. And in town in the winter I coud have it in the morning for shopping, “Never mind," answered Stanway reck- lessly. “Who cares?” . “Ought I to let you do it?” Mrs. Stanway groaned anxiously. “Is it right for us to spend so much? Shall I reproach myself afterward?” "I thought that you were urging that we should have it.” , “I was only saying that I wished awfully that we could," she maintained. “Think how perfectly delightful it would be!” “Well,” said Stanway with an air of final- ity, “to my mind there's only one point after all: You want it.” He rose deliberately. “That settles it.” Mrs. Stanway had sprung up also. “You're perfectly dear to say that, dear- est," she protested, “and of course if you think—" She receded promptly from her tentative renunciation. “I don't think,” he declared. “We're go- ing to have the Theresa, and the less we think about it the better. It's a time for shutting your eyes and jumping in. This is a case for deeds, not words or thoughts." “Should you rather,” Mrs. Stanway in- quired earnestly, “have me kiss you here and now or wait until we are on the other side of the hedge?” "WE AREN'T LIKE OUR GRANDFATHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS." 461 462 Everybody's Magazine “Personally," Stanway answered, “I am doubt doubly strong and has terrified me all not in favor of any delay and should much over again. Oh, Walter, I said that there prefer the present place and moment." was nothing that helped me to decide, but “But the convenances," said Mrs. Stan- this has-almost." way doubtfully, pointing at Sally and Bar- She stood up. rington. - “Oh!” she exclaimed with a swift little “Then I propose,” said Stanway, "that motion of her hand as if putting something we withdraw as quickly as possible, beating from her, “it's not to be thought of.” a hasty but orderly retreat." As he spoke she slipped her hand through his arm and together they moved down the ', II smooth path, she taking a few tripping: dancing steps by his side. Miss SALųY ELLICOTT had come to have “Children!” murmured the girl when they supper at “the cottage.” It was known by were out of hearing. no other name, nor did it require any, for “Married life doesn't seem so very appall- simply “the cottage” described it perfectly ing." and differentiated it accurately from all other "Is that your view of what we've just dwellings in the vicinity. To be sure, the heard and seen?” she inquired intensely. neat box-bordered path that led up from the “Oh, Walter, how can you look at it in that white wicket gate with the high dark-green way? I consider that we've been listening to posts was narrow, but it made an ideal walk a most significant and illuminating conver- for lovers. And there could be no more sat- sation." isfactory retreat-for lovers—than the tiny He shook his head in evident perplexity. porch with the crisscrossed lattice sides, “Don't you realize it? Think, if the Stan- covered by roses of an old-fashioned small- ways with all their wealth have to plan and ness and sweetness. The whole tiny build- consider like this, have really to pinch in ing with the low roof half embowered by the places—for them, that is what it would be overhanging elms and screened by the closer without their money. Suppose we were mar- lilac bushes was the very place for a prolonged ried and wanted things, as we should, just honeymoon. as they wanted the automobile-what could Nothing pleased the Stanways more than we do? She would have been terribly dis- to escape from their own elaborate feasts and appointed, heart-broken, though she would crowd into the narrow dining-room of the have been brave about it, if she had been cottage for one of the Penrhyns' somewhat obliged to go without that Theresa. In the informal suppers. That evening they had same circumstances we could not have been obliged to refuse, as they were com- dreamed of such a thing." mitted to a state dinner at a distant country "No," he admitted reluctantly. house of the same splendor as “Fairlawns.” “And, Walter, I am not thinking only of Having dropped Sally Ellicott at the little what going without things would be for my- gate they had whirred away in the automo- self. You do love me and I am thinking of bile, lamenting and waving backward hands. the pain there would be for you when I Now supper was finished; and Barrington wanted something and you couldn't help see- sat with Sally on the miniature veranda, the ing that I wanted it, even though I tried to scent of his cigar mingling with the sweet keep it from you.” summer evening smells of the garden. Not "Not having everything for you that the far away, for in the Penrhyn domain to get others had would be tough, I admit." far away from anybody or anything was im- She sighed softly. . possible, Arthur Penrhyn and little Mrs. “How happy and excited they were, talk Penrhyn occupied two steamer chairs on the ing about it. It-it made me jealous. Oh, edge of the narrow lawn, almost lost in the to think that we can never be planning like deepening dusk. To their love-enlightened that together!” minds, the finest courtesy they could offer to “You don't mean that you made up your their guests was to leave them alone to- mind definitely against-?” he exclaimed in gether, and they had done so without troub- dismay. ling to invent an excuse. “No, not quite, perhaps,” she interrupted A faint slip of a moon showed in the purple distressfully. “But it's brought back all the sky just over the elm-trees. The summer SALLY ELLICOTT AND BARRINGTON REMAINED ON THE VERANDA ALONE. 463 464 Everybody's Magazine breeze, wafting up from the river, brought no sound but its own soft rustle. In the security of the darkness Barrington put out his hand and laid it on the girl's fin- gers, which were resting on the arm of her chair. “I mustn't if I'm not going to,” she mur- mured ambiguously enough as she gently withdrew her hand. “But you are going to,” he urged. “After this afternoon," she whispered, for the influence of the evening and the proximity of the Penrhyns both prompted lowered tones, “how can I? How can I? Think of all the Stanways need, and we'd have so little." Her words trailed off, but he remained silent as if waiting apprehensively for her to go on. In the stillness little Mrs. Penrhyn's gentle voice could be heard distinctly. “Oh, Arthur!” she exclaimed, “if we only could. I have been looking up about them. I've got the advertisements and have read them until I know them almost by heart.” "I found what you had and took a turn at them, too,” Penrhyn confessed. “There's so much apparently to be said for each one of them, and of course every manufacturer claims that his is the best, which is certainly absurd. I suppose they really believe it, though, poor men, for they seem to be so in earnest and their feelings must be awfully hurt when they know of any one's buying any other make." “Minna," Penrhyn asserted, "you're a goose.” “I suppose I am,” she answered placidly, “but,” she added argumentatively, “a very nice goose.” "Oh, yes,” Penrhyn laughed, “a very nice goose.” Sally, up on the veranda, leaned toward Barrington. “Ought we not to cough or sneeze or something?" she asked. “They know we're here, so it's not really listening," he argued. Down on the grass the talk went evenly forward. “I wish we could,” resumed little Mrs. Penrhyn wistfully: “The Crescent seems an awfully good one,” Penrhyn suggested tentatively, “Or the Columbia Junior.” “Or the Halcyon.” Barrington held his lips close to Sally's ear-so close that a straying strand of her hair was carried against his cheek-as in- deed the nearness of the others compelled him to do in order not to be overheard. “Have we fallen upon another automobile discussion?” “Oh,” she whispered, "the Penrhyns couldn't think of buying one. It would be utterly beyond their means.” Unheedful of their guests in the interest of their subject, the Penrhyns continued animatedly. “The Nonpareil makes great claims,” he proceeded. “Do you know, dear,” she said, “I hate to doubt anybody, but I cannot quite bring myself to have utter confidence in all the Nonpareil man asserts. Three dollars and thirty-nine cents seems such a small price for so much." Barrington, maintaining his position of advantage at Sally's ear, commented cau- tiously: “Can't possibly be an automobile for three dollars and thirty-nine cents." “Hush!” she enjoined, putting out her hand, which he promptly seized and re- tained. Down below Penrhyn's voice broke the silence: “Doesn't seem as if they could make much of a lawn-mower for that.” Sally looked at Barrington, as he could just distinguish in the darkness, and nodded her head with a short motion of satisfied enlightenment. "No," agreed Mrs. Penrhyn sorrowfully. “We do need one,” Penrhyn went on. “Oh, we do!” his wife declared excitedly. “I positively cannot borrow the Johnsons'. I won't do it, and Jerry has broken his—if we only could have one of our own!” “The only question,”Penrhyn pursued, “is, can we afford it?” “There would be an economy in not hav- ing to pay Jerry all the time." “Yes; I could cut the grass myself," agreed Penrhyn thoughtfully, “and there'd be good exercise in it." “I could sit here and watch you and tell you how to do it, for of course you wouldn't do anything without my sage advice.” “Oh, certainly not,” Penrhyn assented promptly. “Perhaps I could help a little myself with the easy parts, and the lawn could be kept looking perfectly beautiful all summer-and it would make the greatest difference in the The Lawn Mower 465 appearance of the whole place. Arthur, we must have one if we can possibly manage it.” “Yes,” he agreed decidedly. “I've saved more than I thought here and there,” she ventured timidly. “I've that order I didn't expect," he contributed. “The Suburban is a nice machine, I'm sure. The price with the ten-inch width of cut is only thirteen dollars.” “I rather had my eye on the Creighton," Penrhyn interposed. “That is such a splendid one," objected Mrs. Penrhyn's soft tones. “Why, the cheap est of those are seventeen dollars at least.” “If we're going to plunge, we might as well do it." “Of course it's often cheapest to buy the best.” “Always," he affirmed boldly. “The Suburban has such a number of ex- cellent points. The ball cups,” she recited in an instructive manner, “balls and cones- I remember the exact words-are-the best that mechanical skill has produced up to date. It has an improved ball retainer. It has further a five-knife cylinder with guar- anteed tool steel knives. It is strongly made and light running and owing to the train of gears will do smooth work on the most uneven lawn! Not that ours is uneven.” “But the Creighton," continued Penrhyn vigorously, in defense of his favorite, “has an especial feature in the brass bushing on the intermediate gear, while the cylinder is fitted with ball bearings with the latest pat- ented adjustment for the cones, effected by means of a set screw with eccentric point.” “The Suburban,” Mrs. Penrhyn main- tained ardently, “has malleable iron reel heads and roller hangers, closed wheels, and gravity clutch. It will cut high and low grass “The Creighton,” broke in Penrhyn, “has solid steel cutter bar, cannot clog, is simply constructed " “The Suburban is self-sharpening.” “So is the Creighton. And it has duplicate parts." “Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Penrhyn suddenly. "even if we can't have it, to talk about it and discuss it is fun in itself.” “Yes,” he assented heartily. Sally's hand, which was still close in Bar- rington's, pressed his fingers slightly and suddenly. “What is it?” he asked curiously. “Nothing,” she said hastily; "hush!” The others were giving them no heed. “Doing anything together is fun,” Mrs. Penrhyn announced comprehensively. “It is," agreed Penhryn. “But this time we're going to eat our cake and have it, too. Talk about our lawn-mower and buy it also. There is the Republic.” “With everything,” Mrs. Penrhyn cried, almost in awe. “We never could hope for that." “The Republic," announced Penrhyn se- dately, “is what we are going to have. I'll give it to you," he chuckled, “as a present for myself.” “Oh, you are so good!” she exclaimed. “Twenty-five dollars may be a big lump sum, but we can make it up somewhere else, and a lawn-mower is imperatively demanded. We need it in our business. So that's finished.” Little Mrs. Penrhyn gave a small, con- tented sigh. “I never dreamed we could do it, and I'm so delighted." “That's all there is of it,” he assured her. “Oh,” she informed him, “I don't see how people who are not married live at all.” The night had fallen and under the elms the darkness was quite impenetrable. “Take care, dear,” the words came up very softly from the lawn, "Sally and Mr. Barrington are there.” “Then we can go down by the river,” the man's voice suggested. There was a soft rustling, then the flitting of two forms—one dimly white, the other densely dark. The sound of light steps stir- ring the gravel grew faint and was lost alto- gether. Sally Ellicott and Barrington re- mained on the veranda alone. “Well?” asked Barrington gently as he stood up. “Oh, Walter," she cried, rising also and unhesitatingly casting herself into his arms. “What a little coward I've been! No, what a little fool!” She fairly sobbed against his shoulder. “Not to see that when people truly love each other nothing else matters. That it's all relative and it doesn't make any difference what you have or haven't- what you can have or can't have " “So that if we can't have an automo- bile " “At least we can have a lawn-mower," she answered with gay earnestness, “and we'll get one at once." Good Hunting By BURGES JOHNSON Drawing by MARY SIGSBEE KER Copyright 2002 y Mary Sobe Copyright, 1907, oy Vary Sigsvee Ker. ABLE-LEG Jungle is dark and still, There's snakes in the Carpet Glade, And lions and tigers on Sofa Hill, But I'm never a bit afraid. My dog, I know, is a trusty brute, And I've got a gun that'll really shoot. Once there was Indians under the bed, But I hunted 'em all away; There's elephants hiding there now instead- They're perfectly safe to-day. 'Cause I'm near the cavern of Easy-Chair, And I scent the track of a Teddy Bear! If I was like nurse or like baby Sis, What never has fired a gun, I guess I wouldn't be brave as this! They'd both of 'em cry and run. But I'll stalk him down and I'll shoot him through, And I'll make him into a Teddy-stew. TYPES OF WOMEN WHO ARE SHARING THE DANGERS OF THE REVOLUTION. A Daughter of the Russian Revolution By LEROY SCOTT Author of "The Walking Delegate" and "To Him That Hath" | SAW her first at a mass-meeting at the and always her waist was of plain dark flan- I women's university in St. Petersburg, nel with one white button at each wrist and held to protest against the execution of a four white buttons at the side of the throat. fellow student charged with teaching revo- To her was but one thing in all the world- lutionary ideas to soldiers—a protest all in the lifting of her people's woes. vain, for next day the girl was shot. She A feature of Russia's struggle for freedom was high above the crowd on the speaker's that the centuries will not forget is that platform, solitary, dominant-a slight, round- women by the tens of thousands are sharing, ed, girlish figure, hands clasped behind her side by side and upon equal terms with the back. Her face, her whole being, was in men, the labors and the dangers of revolu- a glow of exalted anger; her rushing words tion; sharing too in its penalties—prison, of wrath and love and soaring hope were Siberia, death. ... One night in her poor the soul-speech of inspired youth. Just little room—in it was barely space for the so might have looked and spoken Joan of steaming samovar, the narrow cot, the two Arc. of us, and her adoring roommate (by turns I sought her out; I came to know her well. they slept upon the floor)—Vera told me her Her name was Vera Sazonova, and she was story: the story of one of these thousands of eighteen. She was all we most desire in women ready to suffer all things: told it in girlhood—simple, direct, gentle, sweet. And her low, soft voice, quietly, dry-eyed, mar- she was beautiful, with fathomless blue eyes veling that it should interest me, interrupting and the fresh bloom of youth—though al- again and again to exclaim, “Why, to us all, ways her brown hair was drawn plainly back, this seems so common!” 467 468 Everybody's Magazine I am a Jewess. I come from one of the large provincial cities, where my father is an army surgeon of the lowest rank. Few doc- tors are so able, and few have given such brilliant service. He is a veteran of the Turkish War, and his breast is bright with medals. Yet he has never been promoted. For thirty years and more young men, stupid men, inefficient men, have been passing him. White-haired, wise, deeply learned, he still ranks with the youngsters. Why this should be so I often wondered as a child. At ten I graduated from school and tried to enter the gymnasium. Though I graduated at the head of my class, though there was plenty of room, I was refused ad- mission. I began to understand my father's case. He and I, we were kept down because we were Jews. But we are of a wealthy family, though my father is poor, and for Jews we have much ing and clever; and she never wearied talking of what “my qualities," with her wealth and position, would do for me when I was grown. I tried to love her, but I could not. Even as a child I vaguely felt that she was vain and self-seeking. She had many friends among government officials, whom she often showily entertained, and to keep in their good graces was ever her foremost thought. All this while I was sheltered from political suffering, as are the rich who have official favor. And I knew no more about the real Russia than if I had been born in another world. The Czar was supreme-his rule was perfect, his will was God's will: so I was taught, and so the government, in church and school, strives that all shall be taught. I have always been eager for learning. When I finished the gymnasium two years ago, at sixteen, I came to Petersburg and entered the university. And in the begin- THE CZAR'S ANSWER TO THE CRY FOR FREEDOM. influence. After three months of begging ning here, too, I was sheltered from political and bribing and using pressure, my father ideas. I lived with a friend of my aunt, the got me into the gymnasium. Soon a rich, wife of a general. They had frequent parties childless aunt, the widow of a banker, pre- and often went out, and though so young vailed upon my parents to let me live with I was at my aunt's desire always with them. her. I was to be her heir, I lived with her The men at these dinners and balls were till I was sixteen, and here I had everything officers and government officials. I came to —the finest of clothes, the most comfortable know many of the younger men; they paid of homes, private masters in singing, draw- me attentions, of course, as they do to all ing, dancing, languages. My aunt was very girls. One wanted to marry me; he had proud of me, for she thought me good-look- many debts, and he knew I was to be rich. POVERTY, ISOLATION, STAGNATION-A TYPICAL RUSSIAN VILLAGE. They were proud, stupid, narrow, selfish, just to say: 'We as a body believe you are do- these officers—and they spoke of the people ing wrong. Here we are, unarmed; you can kill as ignorant beasts that could be ruled only us—but you cannot change our opinions.” by violence and tyranny. All these years revolt must have been This social life was repugnant to me, but latent in me: against my father's treatment for the first two months it so filled my leisure -more recently against the harsh, suffoca- time that I did not come in contact with the ting officialdom that enclosed me. Yes, re- life of the students. But one morning as I volt must have been in me—just waiting its crossed the Neva on my way to the univer- chance; for suddenly, without thought, with- sity, I saw emerge from the university quar- out volition, I found myself in step with ter and march along the river front a vast Sonia, singing words of freedom to the air of procession of men and women students, sing- the “Marseillaise.” My new life had begun. ing and bearing red flags. I could not guess Ten thousand strong we tramped across what all this meant; such a parade, save of the Neva River, past the great red Winter soldiers, was to me unheard of—was con- Palace of the Czar, past the open square be- trary to most stringent laws. I sat in my fore it in which a few months later thousands isvoschtchick staring, till the leaders of the of workmen led by Father Gapon were to procession had passed me. They were be shot down in cold blood, and on into flushed and exultant, and oh, how mightily the Nevski Prospect, Petersburg's chief street. they sang! I jumped out and ran to a girl Red flags by the hundreds made the air in the procession. It was Sonia here, my crimson-all their bearers were singing revo- roommate; ever since she has been my dear- lutionary songs. To hear 10,000 sing one est friend. song, sing it from their souls—ah, that is “Tell me, what is this?” I cried. I had wonderful! Many of us wept as we marched. to shout to make my voice heard above the ... Yes, we were telling the Czar: “You singing. may kill us, but still we tell you your govern- "You don't know!” she said, astonished. ment is wrong." “It's a de nonstration.” Suddenly, galloping toward us down the “What's a demonstration?” I asked. cross-streets in which they had been waiting, “It's the students' way of protesting came a troop of Cossacks, yelling, cursing, against the cruelties of the government. It's swinging nagaikas—the terrible whips whose 469 " THEY ARE VERY IGNORANT AND THEY ARE VERY POOR - thongs are loaded with pieces of steel and cession. Against Cossacks, what could we, lead. They charged straight in among us, barehanded, do? We broke-ran. As I striking right and left with their whips-guns turned, I saw over me a Cossack officer. He and pistols and swords ready for us-armed, swung his whip at my head; I dodged and it too, with their plunging horses' feet. Down came down on the soft part of my shoulder, came those terrible whips on arms, shoulders, tearing my dress and bruising and cutting faces, heads! Curses, cries of pain, shouts jaggedly into the flesh. I broke somehow of defiance—whirling whips, lunging horses, through the Cossacks—we now were all dart- helpless, dodging students-never, never can ing hither, thither—and I tried to escape I forget that awful tangle! I saw one pretty down a side street. But in the side streets girl, a medical student, with her cheek ripped were the house porters (you know they are open from eye to chin. Near me a Cossack forced to be a part of the police), who had rose in his stirrups and brought his whip been ordered out to back up the Cossacks. down on the head of a girl. She fell-dead; Everywhere they were running after the stu- dents, striking at them with nail - studded clubs. We were safe, easy game. A porter rushed at me—big, black-bearded, excited, with the face one sees in a nightmare. I ran, but he was the quicker, and his club came down on my head. I remember no more. And from that day I have been among the stu- dents. As soon as I was able, I moved my things from the general's, and Sonia and I took a room together. How different "A ROUGH LITTLE WAGON, WITH SQUEAKING AXLES." was the students' life from officialdom! The students went down beneath the feet of his horse. were full of belief in democracy, and in the The man marching beside her was her lover; near coming of an era when the people should he jerked out a pistol and the next instant rule; and they were busy in mysterious ways the Cossack, too, was dead. And the in- to hasten the coming of this era. I was stant after there was a sword-swish, and the reborn into a new world. I had left selfish- student dropped beside the girl, his head ness, death, and had come into life that is split almost to his chin. the youth of a great future. So it was along all the line of the pro- For a time I had one great desire—to learn 470 472 cine Everybody's Magazine -privilege, money, position. So be satis- pays everything; and besides from it I con- fied, and let things alone.” tribute, as we all do, for pamphlets and pa- I tried to argue and explain. But their pers to be distributed among the mass of interests were all on the side of the govern- the people. No, no, you mustn't pity me- ment, and they wouldn't please! I'm far, far hap- listen to me. My father pier than when I had my said nothing at all; just aunt's allowance, for now fingered his soft, white I live as do all my com- beard, and gazed at me rades. I don't mind being with his gentle blue eyes. poor, for when you are My aunt begged me to always working, think- give up the revolution- ing, over a great cause, made me every extrava- you don't know it's only gant offer. When I re- bread and tea you're eat- fused she became angry ing. And fine dinners, -hard. Unless I gave though paid for by rich up the revolution, of her friends, are to me utmost fortune, all of which she misery. Such a waste of had intended for me, I precious money, so much should get not one ko- needed by the cause!- pek; and furthermore, she such a waste of precious would no longer pay my time! expenses at the univer- Yes, I was very busy sity. But I could not yield. that winter. My pupil So that night I moved lived on the far side of back to my parents' home the city, and as I couldn't that I had left at ten. afford to ride, I spent two All summer mother hours each day in walk- complained at me. Poor ing. My university work mother!—she cannot un- was heavy, and then I derstand. But father! tried to do much read- Often of nights I would be ing, and at night, like out late, talking at some my comrades, I was now workingman's home, at- teaching little groups of tending a meeting of com- A VILLAGE MERCHANT. workingmen and soldiers. rades, and when I would So, altogether, I rarely get back the house would be dark and all got to bed before two. would be in bed. All but father. I never Toward the end of the winter I wanted a came home, no matter how late, but father book that proved the government's responsi- was waiting for me with a candle. He would bility for recent massacres—such a book is light me up-stairs to my room, kiss me on very “illegal” indeed—and I went one after- the forehead, say “Good night, my child," noon to a big book-shop where underground and tiptoe away. And never a question- literature was secretly sold. Several cus- never a reproach. In his gentle heart I'm tomers were in the store, among them three sure he believes as I do. other girls. While I was waiting, the room My aunt kept her threat not to pay my suddenly filled with gendarmes—the political expenses in the university; and my father police and the officer announced that the could not afford to, with his three other store was seized and that we were under ar- children and his meagre pay. But I came rest. All of us, customers, clerks, manager, back to St. Petersburg, and I took this room were taken to prison, and we four girls were with Sonia. If the greater part of the stu- placed in one large cell where already there dents could make their own way, so could were ten other girls—fourteen in one cell. I. I found a pupil, to whom I taught French You know our prisons are so choked with an hour daily; and for this I got the excep- "politicals” that there is hardly room to lie tional price of fifteen roubles a month—that's down; and thieves and other criminals are seven or eight of your dollars. I still have set free to make place for political offenders. one pupil and still get fifteen roubles. That Thirteen of us were student revolutionists, A Daughter of the Russian Revolution 473 and every day in that cell the government was destroyed. The fourteenth was a work- ing girl and was one of those taken in the book-shop. It developed that she had gone to the store without knowing its character, merely to ask a place as a clerk, and that she was not opposed to the government. She was pale and thin. She rarely spoke to us and often she was crying, for her mother was very ill-in fact, dying. After a few days she begged the officials to be allowed to go to her mother for an hour; but her request was denied. As the weeks passed word came that her mother was getting worse and worse. She begged again. But it was no use. Then for several days she had no news at all; then she was told that her mother was buried. . . . She is free now, and is a ter- rorist. We were not told the charge against us and we were never tried. A thief or a mur- derer may have a trial, but not a person suspected of speaking or writing against the government. Month after month dragged by while we waited decision in our cases. In the mean time the owner of the shop and two of his assistants were sent to Siberia, where afterward five from our cell were to be exiled. At length came the ist of May, the day that all over Europe is the great holiday of the working classes. We deter- mined that prison walls should not keep us also from observing it. One of the girls had a red petticoat, and from this we made a flag that we fastened to one of the upright pieces from the back of a chair that we took apart. This flag we thrust out the window, tying the staff to the bars with strips from the skirt. Then we put our faces to the bars. “Vive la revolution!” we shouted. And we shouted it again and again, till soldiers came running up beneath the window. We dropped to the floor and scrambled toward the sides, out of range. There were cracks without and bullets flattened on the opposite wall of the cell. But one girl had not dropped in time. She lay in a limp heap beneath the window. We crawled to her side-shook her called her name. But there was a round hole through one temple; she never so much as moved an eyelash. ... We were all put on bread and water for two weeks. The soldier who shot the girl was promoted. Nothing was discovered against me, and in June I was set free. I determined to spend the summer in spreading propaganda among the peasants, as hundreds of men and women are doing. You know our hundred million or more peasants all live in villages of from one thousand to five thousand persons-villages of straw-thatched cabins built of logs or clay- villages the greater part of which lie twenty- five, fifty, or a hundred miles from the nearest railroad, some even five hundred. Here the peasants are entirely shut off from the rest of the world; almost no one comes near them. They are very ignorant; the govern- ment has purposely kept them so, as it has tried to keep all Russia, for only an ignorant people will continue to stand oppression. And they are very poor. But they are gentle and generous and have rich souls. This going among the peasants has its danger, for the government spends millions to keep the hostile spirit of the cities from spreading into the country, and to be caught is to be sent to Siberia. And I had another danger. Our peasants have been taught by the Russian church to hate the Jews; many high officials of the church have publicly approved, even extolled, the Jewish massacres as righteous acts most pleasing unto God. “If the peasants find out you are a Jewess," said my friends, “they may tear you to pieces. You'd better wear a cross.” But this I could not do. For me that would be a lie. So I went into these remote, lonely villages. At first I could not help fearing. But the peasants received me almost as though I were divine—the prophetess of a happier time. When I entered a village, I would send forth word, and the brown and shaggy men and the women with their children would crowd about me in some dark, smoky hut; or would gather in the street or in a farmyard, and standing in one of their little wagons, I would speak to them-simply, touching only on things within their own experience. I reminded them that the gov- ernment took from them taxes, crushingly heavy, took a million of their sons for the Czar's vast army. And what did they get in return? Practically nothing! Always giv- ing-never receiving: that was their relation to the government. And so long as they remained silent, inactive, so long would that relation continue—just so long would they remain poor, ignorant, helpless. The only way to get juster taxes was to demand them. To demand them in the Duma—and to be ready to demand them by force, for in the 474 Everybody's Magazine end to force only would the government The old peasant realized this too. But it was yield. too late to turn back. He looked round at Often petty officials were in these crowds, me. His bushy face was full of cunning. and several times before I spoke they cried “Lie down, little lady," he said. “Pull your out: “She is against the Czar! Do not lis- shawl over your face and say not a word.” ten! Seize her!” But I would beg the He drove on, and soon I heard an officer crowd to hear me first, then decide. And curse him and order him to halt. “Come- always they listened, and always they were out of that wagon! You get twice the num- with me. Once, when I had finished, they ber of strokes for trying to run away like caught the accusing official, bore him strug- this!” gling to the village duck pond, and cast him The peasant was humble, cringing. “But, in. But if these officials had only known my lord, I am from another village. I am the truth-had cried out, “She is a Jewess!” taking my daughter to the doctor. My lord, -had called upon me to show my cross, had she is very sick. She has the smallpox.” incited the people on, then indeed my end I heard ejaculations, curses. “You old might have come. fool, why do you stop here, then!” shouted When I had finished speaking, the men the officer. And I heard the flat side of a would follow me about, asking me questions. sword crack on the little horse's bony sides. And they would beg me to eat and would set And away the horse went at a gallop out of before me their best—and their best was black the village, and as we went I heard the cries bread, and a soup of cabbage and water. of women, and smoke and sparks were all This is the diet of the peasants, year in and about me. out. Sometimes, as a luxury, they would Thus all during last summer I went from give me potatoes. But never meat. They village to village, usually speaking in two vil- themselves hardly know the taste of flesh. lages every day-visiting all told over one The terrible poverty of our peasants—you hundred and fifty villages, and traveling in must see it to believe it. In the famine dis- peasant wagons over a thousand miles. trict I have often heard mothers sob out Though in constant danger, never did the prayers to God to give the babies in their slightest ill befall me; and never in all my arms the blessing of death. . . . And at life was I treated with sincerer courtesy than night they would take me into their low, by our rough, ignorant peasants. And the one-room houses, in which from two to fif- same I have heard said by dozens of other teen lived, and in this we all would sleep-I girls who have done the work I did. in my clothes on the husband's sheepskin When the university opened last autumn winter coat spread on the clay floor. I started to work again among the soldiers. After each speech some volunteering peas. As you know, the revolutionists are at present ant would drive me to the next village—in a working very hard to win over the army, rough little wagon with squeaking wooden and one of the means is to talk freedom di- axles, drawn by a shaggy stunted horse- rectly to the soldiers. For this girls have been over rutty tracks (there are no real roads found to be more effective than men; the among the peasants) that wound across young peasant soldiers are more willing to dreary, houseless, unfenced fields. Usually listen to girls, and are far readier to protect I sat on the straw in the back of the wagon, them from arrest. So all over Russia hun- like a peasant's wife. Once as we thus came dreds and hundreds of girls are now nightly into a village, we saw fire spring from several meeting with groups of soldiers, in working- roofs and observed that the place was full of men's homes and in barracks. To go into Cossacks. Several days before a few men from barracks and talk revolution to the soldiers, this town had burned the house of a neigh- hardly anything is so dangerous-for the girl boring landlord who, in the frequent fashion caught is tried by court-martial and in a day of Russian landlords, had long been cheating or two is executed. and oppressing the village; and now, in pun Such is my work. I usually dress, as do ishment, the Cossacks had suddenly de the other girls, in a black jacket with a black scended with the purpose of burning homes shawl tightly over my head, so that I can indiscriminately and flogging the entire pop- pass as a soldier's working-girl sweetheart. ulation, men and women. Sometimes I meet five or six in a working- If I fell into the Cossacks' hands they would man's bare, one-roomed home-no more discover what I was, and all would be over. than five or six, for more persons coming to- A Daughter of the Russian Revolution 475 10 gether would excite police suspicion, and worry. You're safe; they won't tell who lead to the arrest of all. We huddle close you are.” and I speak to them in a whisper—that per- “But will anything serious happen to haps a crying baby interrupts. And when them?” I asked. the converted soldiers can arrange a meeting “They'll be shot,” he said. in the barracks, on nights when no officers I was astounded—though what was more are to be around, I go there. This is much natural? After he had gone I thought for better, for here instead of five I can talk to several minutes-hard. I could not let those fifty or a hundred. They are eager to learn two splendid fellows die in my stead. Never! -so eager! This underground fire is spread- But whatever I did I had to do at once, ing–I cannot tell you how rapidly it spreads. for I knew the awful quickness of courts- And the day will come when their captains martial. will order them to shoot, and they will not I decided to go to Prince M- I had shoot—when their guns will be with us. to dress finely in going to him that I might Two weeks ago I had it shown me how not attract attention; so I slipped into the loyal to us girls the soldiers can bemand one rich dress and the fur coat that I still also I came nearer death than ever before. have from the other days. Near two o'clock It was at a meeting in one of the barracks I reached Prince M- 's apartment. I ex- arranged for by two of my soldier friends. pected that I should first have to rouse a serv- The soldiers stood me on one of the long ant who would rouse the prince, but I was tables in the mess-room, set two candles at admitted immediately and ushered straight my feet, and gathered about me—a hundred into a brightly lighted dining-room. Before or more dim, earnest, heavy peasant faces. me was a table covered with rich foods, I had been speaking for perhaps an hour, glasses, and many bottles. Around the table the soldiers were hot with enthusiasm, when were Prince M- and three other young a voice rang out from the doorway: officers. And there were four women. The “Seize her!” women ... you know the kind of women We all looked. There stood one of the they were. young officers I had known well two years be- One of the officers rose and came unstead- fore-Prince M- He had forgotten some ily toward me. “Ha, Sergius, so you saved papers, had returned to the barracks for the prettiest till the last. Well, I get the first them, and had been drawn to the mess-room kiss!” by the strange sound of a woman's voice. But Prince M- , who recognized me, I sprang from the table with a blind in- sprang forward and pushed the officer away. tention of running. Instantly I was caught He opened a door at one side, pressed me by either arm-and I felt that my time was into a sitting-room, followed me, and closed come. But a voice sounded in my ear: the door. Then he turned and gazed at me. “Don't struggle--say nothing." I looked, In society he is considered a very handsome and saw that my captors were my two man-tall, straight, aristocratic, with white friends. cheeks and a dark mustache. He was now We marched to the door, many of the flushed with wine, but was sober compared soldiers crowding about us. I kept my head with the others. turned away so that the officer could not “I must apologize to you for that,” he recognize me. “Take her to the barracks stammered. prison,” he said. As we passed out into the I could say nothing for the moment. I snowy night, the hands on my arms loosened. was so shocked. I had regarded him as one “Run!” one of the men whispered. I darted of the best of my officer acquaintances-yet I out the gate-doubled in and out among the well knew that just so all Russian officials dark streets of that part of the city-and an live. hour later I was back here in my room. We sat down and I went straight at the Two hours afterward, toward one o'clock, business of my coming. “You arrested to- there was a knock on my door. I opened it, night two soldiers for helping a girl escape and was saluted by a soldier-a close com- from the barracks." rade of my two friends. He came in awk His embarrassment left him; he looked at wardly and told me that his two comrades me in amazement. “Yes. But you! how had been arrested. “They said for me to should you know it?” come to you," he went on, “so you wouldn't I did not reply. “And they will be shot?” 476 Everybody's Magazine me." “Such will doubtless be their sentence.” “That to-morrow I shall probably be un- “But if the girl, the real offender, could able to identify the two arrested men as the be delivered into your hands, would you not guilty ones.” set them free?" “You mean they'll be set free?" “I don't understand all this,” he said. “Yes.” “Those soldiers are my friends. I do not I thanked him with all my heart. I am want them shot.” ready to die, if need be, but still death is not “Well—at least they'd get off with a easy, and there is so much I want to do. He lighter penalty.” promised that all should be as he had said, “Then,” I said, “I have come to give and I started away. He asked if he might myself up.” not escort me home, but I refused; for him He stared at me. Presently he began to to be seen with me might place him in dan- understand. “You, Vera Sazonova, you ger. As we went through the hall, we again have become a revolutionist! . . . And you heard singing and the rattle of glasses. He mean to say you were that girl!” flushed-seemed to struggle a moment—then “Yes.” in a whisper asked if I would not some time “And you want to be executed so that talk to him about the aims of the revolution. they may get off!” I promised, and named a place of meeting. "I can't let them die for trying to save Then he let me out into the night, and after an hour of walking through silent, snowy He stared long at me. His face began to streets, I was again here in my room. glow; his head shook slowly. “Such stuff This work among the soldiers I still do. as you revolutionists are made of!” he And everywhere; secretly, such work goes whispered. on-among peasants, among soldiers, among Just then in the next room a woman's workingmen. In enlightenment, in under- voice rose in a snatch of a coarse song. The standing of their wrongs, here lies the free- officers cried, “Bravo! Bravo!” There was dom of my people. And enlightenment is loud laughter, clinking of glasses. The growing-growing rapidly; and freedom is prince dropped his face into his two hands. coming—painfully, perhaps slowly—but com- After a minute he looked up. “I can't let ing! ... But toward its coming I am help- you do this I can't!” he cried. “And why ing, oh, so little! When I think upon how should you? Those two soldiers are only very, very little, I am pierced with shame. peasants, and what difference is a couple of I am so ignorant! so weak! And how I peasants more or less?” want to help! Oh, that I had more power I spoke back earnestly, and I finally con- to help my people! vinced him that I was determined to die in place of the two soldiers. He was thoughtful She ended, her fresh young face aglow with for a long space. Then a queer look came hope, aquiver with her poignant yearning. into his pale face. ... But this was not her story's end. That “After all,” he said, “I'm not so sure that came to me a week ago in a letter from St. those two men were the ones that let you Petersburg, giving news of acquaintances escape. The mess hall was dark, and it's there. “And of course you remember Vera hard to tell soldiers apart anyhow when Sazonova. Two days ago she was caught in they're in uniform.” the barracks at Kronstadt, and yesterday at "What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered. daybreak she was shot." Celebrating a New Ireland 489 of the effect of space and largeness of the fairs English crowd, in that every one carries an at Chicago and St. Louis, though the build- umbrella, that the men wear flowers in their ings are smaller, less magnificent, and less buttonholes, that the women show gayer numerous. But in the American fairs there colors than one would expect in such a cli- was an appearance of system in the beauty, mate, and that even the poorest seems to an effect of business behind the esthetics, have some sort of feather boa or scarf. But and not the sense of natural background there are green ties and green caps not to be that is given here by the Dublin hills. In seen in England; the faces are simpler and the Irish Exhibition the character of the peo- less dogged than the English faces, and the ple has conquered the buildings. The Celtic eyes, whether blue, gray, or hazel, are the irregular beauty and charm have crept in. eyes of the Celt, changing from humor to The unexpectedness of the rough-cast, oak- sadness, sentimental, perplexed, and irre- beam style of the Home Industries Building trievably hopeful of some good somewhere- and of the Canadian Building is Irish; and the eyes of the race that gives the world ro- somehow these buildings coax away any ef- mance. They differ from an American crowd Photograph by Brown Brothers. ELECTRICAL DISPLAY AT NIGHT AT THE GRAND CENTRAL PALACE, SHOWING THE GREAT DOME. fect of incongruity with the severe white pal- in that they are slower of movement, more aces. No country but Ireland, not even It aimless, less intent, and though quite as good- aly, could give such a profusion of rich and humored, far more considerate. Strangers varied coloring, soft and brilliant both, like are always offering a helpful hand to one an- an Irish colleen's blue eyes and red cheeks. other. If information is wanted, some kind And the people, whether they represent of answer is willingly given. the old or the changing order, are pure Erin. A policeman was asked where a certain Their voices alone would make the Fair their building was. And while he hesitated, a lit- own. Even the Florentine Fine Arts Build- tle bunched-up countrywoman, in sagging ing turns almost into an Irish home when one homespun, said in a whisper: hears in it the quick throaty tones of brogues “Arrah, I'll show you the place mesilf. from Wexford to Galway, or the excited ar- You can't ever thrust a policeman or a soldier, guing of a cute Kerry man with a man from you cannot now," she added, as her feet Cork. They may look at first glance like an clattered a rough accompaniment to her soft l'hotograph by Brown brother's. KING EDWARD AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA AT THE EXHIBITION. southern tongue. “No, they're all stupid- ago at a meeting of the Irish Industrial Con- like, them that is recruited by Dublin Castle. ference, and was enthusiastically received by I have two byes: wan is a rale soldier, thank men of all creeds and all classes and of mani- God; he fought for the Boers, but while I fold political opinions. Yet it has always been was away in Carlow visiting me sick mother, the Irish habit (though the habit is breaking) the other was led asthray into the English for each man to want to save Ireland in his militia. When I came home, I was met wid own way; and there are people in Dublin- me shame be the neighbors, and when I some extremists of the Gallic League Party, stepped into the place, I saw his father had and almost all the members of the new politi- down the little tin picture of him off the wall, cal party called the Sinn Fein, the logical and it lies in the top drawer to this day. descendants of the Fenians—who refuse to Well, we don't shpake of it, but at night visit the Exhibition because they think it is when I'm in bed, me thoughts fly out to him not Irish. where he is, for I do be lyin' on the spot where “Irish it is not,” said a wrinkled, rosy old his little shmall head rested on the shoulder Sinn Feiner. “Four hundred thousand of me many an hour when I'd no thought pounds gone into English pockets; the build- he would live to disgrace me. Well, there's ing done by English conthractors; enough your building, and good luck to you." English exhibits to put the curse of Cromwell She walked quickly away, a pathetic little on it. Look at the Canadian Building, with figure-old Ireland in her prejudices. She its green board invitin' the immigration that turned back to wave confidently at the build them that love Ireland is thryin' to stop. ing. It proved to be the wrong one. And the catering—all done by the English. The idea of the Exhibition rose four years There's resthrants in Dublin could have done 490 Celebrating a New Ireland 491 it, so they could. What matther if they've not had the big experience? And why? Because the Irish think more of their souls and less of their insides than the English and Americans. But the Dublin men could soon have got their hands in. The Irish would be only too plazed to lend the loan of their stomachs for them to learn on, and the foreigners would be too polite to complain, and the English could lump it. Things is come to a bad pass when a man can't get a drink of whisky un- less it passes over an Erfglish bar." And he walked away, old Ireland to the core, in spite of his new political principles. Old and new Ireland meet in the huge entrance hall of the Central Palace. The spirit of the new Ireland greets the visitor in the little boys selling guide-books. They do not linger at one's elbow whining for one to buy—“And God bless you, for I've an ould mother to support." They take a businesslike look at one's hands to see if one has a book already, and at one's face to see if “no” is really meant, and then they brush past to another visitor. Old Ire- land shows first of all in a certain “cluttered” effect in the emerald hall, where the flags of all nations are fluttering, the green Irish flag with the harp predominating. The walls blaze with stained-glass windows, posters, and paintings. At the foot of a flight of steps stands a copy of the ancient Celtic cross of Drogheda, and behind this a roughly cast statue of Erin. And this, too, is Erin the new — no longer the dark Rosaleen, bowed and weeping. The figure represents youth (one forgets the sex). The right hand touches the harp of Ireland, but lightly, for Erin is done with brooding uselessly over the past, while the left arm holds high a torch; the eager head is thrown back, the eyes are full of purpose, the mouth is impulsive but self-reliant, and the wolf-dog watches intently and quietly at the feet. T here are various relics in the hall, such as old prehistoric boats, and a model of the bat- tle of Waterloo, which might just as well be somewhere else. The Celt is restless if you ask him why he has not one kind of exhibit in one place and another in another, instead of having home manufactures, for example, shown in three different buildings. “I don't see that we have to follow the hard- and-fast lines of other exhibitions,” said an official. “You may need to classify in Amer- ica; here we don't. Ireland is not America, though they say America is half Irish. And faith, considering the little time we had, we COUNTI KIKUUN IN Photograph by Brown Brothers. "THE CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE HAS CONQUERED THE BUILDINGS-THE CANADIAN BUILDING IS IRISH." 492 Everybody's Magazine just had to put things down where they were most convenient.” And, indeed, though the principle of the division of the nineteen classes of exhibits and the grouping of these exhibits in build- ings is not logical, it is convenient. The idea seems to have been to make the Irish look at their own products, and if they miss them in one hall, they'll be rather sure to fall upon them in another. The most conspicuous building is the furniture, of textile goods, of alimentary prod- ucts, and of miscellaneous exhibits of Eng- lish and of Irish manufacture, chiefly Irish, and chiefly from the country south of Boyne water and Dublin. This lack of equality in display probably means that the people of North Ireland thought until too late that the Exhibition was going to be a local affair. It does not mean that the bitter feeling, born of a sense of alien race and of differ- ence in religion, still exists in its old strength Photograph oy Brown Brothers, "THEY DIFFER FROM AN AMERICAN CROWD IN THAT THEY ARE MORE AIMLESS, LESS INTENT." great white Central Palace, with a towering between the north and the south. Some dome from which stand out four huge wings acute feeling there is yet, but it is dying out. that somehow give the effect of a Celtic The day was when, even at a loss, each cross. The dome, almost as large as St. section would buy a product of its own or a Paul's, can be seen far out in the Irish foreign product rather than patronize the Channel, and more than one fisherman has other section. But after countless attempts, said that at night the sight of its lighted head Boyne water is being bridged at last, and warms the heart of him with the feeling of the true lovers of Ireland hope that this time home. The ends of the supporting beams the bridge will not be swept away. of the roof are so shaped as to represent a “Ah, it's a fine place,” said a manufacturer, cluster of hanging shamrocks. The center on being congratulated on the splendid spa- of this building forms a hall large enough to cious effect of the center of the palace. “And contain almost any number of visitors. The of course the woolens and linens and leather four wings are crowded with specimens of and stills can't be surpassed, we believe. Potograph by Brown Brothers. DUBLIN DECORATED FOR THE OPI:NING OF THE EXHIBITION. The Americans ought to remember that our switchback; a helter-skelter, which is merely a tweeds are betther than the Scotch now. switchback arranged about a tower; a crystal But what's the use of that big hall in the maze; some Indian conjurers who have among middle? Sure, they won't let the people them three tricks only, and the “Rivers of dance there at all. The Irish are the great Ireland.” To see the latter, the visitor goes dancers. What harrm would it do?” What through a damp and drafty winding tunnel harm, indeed? Ire- in a boat, looking land could be put- here and there into ting her best foot semicircular plots forward in that set with small way as decorously shrubs reflected by as in walking mirrors placed on around and wish- the opposite side. ing, and more char- Many of the acteristically. serious well-wish- And certainly ers of Ireland, too little has been chiefly those of the done to amuse this cities, assert that pleasure-loving the amusements people. All the di- are quite sufficient; versions offered that it is better not them are shooting- to distract the galleries where minds of the peo- hares and pheas- ple from the edu- ants circle slowly cative value of the against a back- Exhibition. In any ground of green case, the native painted hills; spectators take a water - chute; a THE LAKE IN THE GROUNDS. amiably their lack Copyright, 1907, by I'm. Lawrence, Dublin. 493 494 Everybody's Magazine of chance to frolic, for in queer, unexpected America, the greatest space being given to ways the Irish are docile. They try their the work of English and Irish artists. All hackneyed amusements over and over again, branches of art are to be seen, from oil- and those who cannot afford them, walk about painting to photography, in which America and look at the electric lights and at the has rather a good collection of specimens. great dome. Old Ireland likes so much light In painting famous names are represented- because it is new to him, and pretty; young Corot, Millet, Rosa Bonheur, Watts, Rossetti, Ireland loves the beauty, but he is ready Burne-Jones, Abbey — and also unfamiliar to explain the scientific and mechanical ap- names. The committee tried to select works pliances which produce the beauty. The of promise in order to encourage rising tal- water-chute, how- ever, is the chief attraction. "Man alive," said the old Sinn Feiner, lingering outside the gates where he could get the best view of the spot, “if I could sneak in blindfold-like, and have a ride down the water - chute, I'd be tempted. Did ye hear how a boat upset in the wather the other day, and an Or- angeman from Belfast and an Englishman start- ed to bate the face off each other, not knowing at all they were both Unionists? They say 'twould have been grand if the police hadn't pulled them out. Copyright, 1907, by W'm. Lawrence, Dublu. Ah, well, I sup- pose I can't go in at all. But principles is cold comfort when ent. In the Irish section the spectator is a man'd rather be with his friends.” given a chance to buy. The Palace of Fine Arts shows best the But the international side is forgotten when international side of the Exhibition, though one sees, set in the middle of the galleries, the the word “international” cannot be applied glass cases full of objects that illustrate the in any large sense. Some Irishmen explain Irish past from medieval times down. And that it was made international because the here one day was found the old Sinn Feiner, pessimists said the Irish exhibits would make faithless to his principles at last. no real display—one more proof that Ireland “I don't be afther lookin’at annything isn't is only beginning to learn her real strength. Irish,” he explained, “but when I was tould The Art Palace is a long, beautiful building I could see the green coat of William Smith consisting of seven galleries. The pictures, O'Brien-may he live in glory forever!—I which are chiefly modern, represent speci- thought I'd come. Sure, the other Sinn mens from fourteen countries, including Feiners may live to see it other ways, but I'm THE FACADE OF THE FINE ARTS BUILDING. Celebrating a New Ireland 495 an ould man, and I had to take my chance “Will you belave me," said the old man, when I could." "there do be but two relics of Robert Emmet His logic pleased him for a moment, and in all the place. One is his blunderbuss, and then he added: what will you say when I tell you 'tis in that "Mind you, I've been looking at the grand case over there on the top shelf where you furniture and all, as my grandson gave me can hardly get a look at it, though it must the adwice. Did you know Watherford and be the fine blunderbuss entirely; and down Cork was famous for silver plate and cut on the middle shelf, in plain sight, ivory glass and jewelry and putting covers on handle and all, is the sword of Cromwell. books? We were a rale artistic nation in What do you call that but an insult? “The other rel- ic? A copy of the death - mask of him, and how the poor cheeks is sunk in. I'm thinking they did- n't thrate him anny too well in prison. Well, God knows enough good blood has been spilt in Ire- land to save us all, and yet I could hardly get me grandson to look at this mask at all. “An elegant patriot he was,' says he, “but come over and see the grand power-pro- ducing appliances in the Palace of Industries, and take a look at the copy of them fur- naces of the bat- tle-ship Dread- nought.' What THE PALACE RESTAURANT AND VIEW OF THE ESPLANADE. did the Dread- nought ever do the ould days, till England crushed it out of for Ireland? I sent him to the right-about us." to look at the chairs and mace and things All sorts of relics are to be seen, from the they used to have in the Irish House of ancient stone chair of the O'Neills of Clanna- Commons, that we'll have again some day, boye to the tiny first clothes of Lord Edward plaze God. Ah, well, the young don't love Fitzgerald; and from a copy of the Book of Ireland as we did in '48.” the Dun Cow to the green harp of Thomas The grandson had the body of one fed too Moore. And here again the old and the much on vegetables and poor bread, but he new Ireland showed. Many younger people showed the face of young Ireland, with the looked with patriotic interest indeed, but even new spirit of alertness and enterprise in the this was largely from the educational stand- eyes. point. They wanted to see how things were “Grandfather should get his shilling's made in the ancient days. They were inter- worth in the other buildings too,” he re- ested in the bronze vessels and the old swords. marked. “It's fine here. Did ye see the Copyright, 1907, 11 m. Lara reme, Dublin 496 Everybody's Magazine Irish sculpture? Did ye know thousands of green that give us the feeling of home and pounds of our money went to France and God both. We want to have our own coun- Germany for statues of saints, with the brains thry again every way.” here for making them and hands ready to “Do you think you are winning her back?” larn? But for them as wanted to larn there “I do. But the throuble with us is we've was nothing to do but emigrate--and us talked too much, and put our trust in others tryin' so hard to stop emigration. But we've and not done enough. Musha, if only our started sculpture now. You see, I've been hands had the skill of our tongues! So I taking the classes and so I am interested-like belave what the Department tells me that in all we do.” There spoke new Ireland. Ireland must educate its hands and brains.” The new Ireland shows best in the home “The Department” is the familiar term manufactures. These do not necessarily for the governmental Department of Agricul- promise that Ireland will be a great industrial ture and Technical Instruction. It holds country, but they do promise that if the in- classes in practical work for men, women, dustries go on growing, thousands of de- · and children all over the country, and will serving and really capable human beings will give expert advice free to any business man be saved from misery, starvation, emigration, who wishes to start an enterprise. and the lunatic asylums. Any one who has “Look round and see what they're doing left the beaten track of the tourist in Ireland, with their hands in here,” said young Ire- where the car-drivers display the joy in their land proudly. poverty and pigs that is expected of them by There were carpets from Kildare which the traveler, and who has seen the congested could be made either at home or in the fac- districts of the terrible west coast, knows that tory (preferably in the factory), and to look fisheries and boat-building and lace-making at some of them was like seeing the heart mean a chance for life to a brave and hapless of an Irish forest. There were hand-loom people. weaving and carding and spinning, as carried The exhibits are on view in the Palace of on in Donegal, Galway, and Kerry, under Industries and in the Home and Cottage the supervision of the Congested Districts Industries buildings, but in the former the Board — another government institution, effect is confused by the sight of manufac- which works hand in hand with “The De- tures from England, New Zealand, Japan, partment." There were beautiful arts and East India, Germany, Italy, by one cereal crafts work, carved furniture from Bray, del- display from America, and by countless icate enameling, copper work, and bookbind- booths for the sale of sham jewelry and gim- ing. A green book of Moira O'Neill's songs crackery without which no exhibition seems was itself a song. Above all there was case to be complete. In the buildings (too small, after case of embroidery and lace of varied by the way) of the Home and Cottage Indus- and beautiful design. tries stands out the splendid beginning of “Ah, the gurrls aren't behind," said young Ireland the new. There is a cottage hos- Ireland. “Sure, they don't like to lave home pital, typical of several hospitals on the west for service, so the great ladies of the land coast founded by the Countess of Dudley to started up the lace again. Such grand new educate hygienically the ignorant and de- pattherns, and our gurrls can sit over the pressed people. For the more prosperous, peat fire winter nights and make them. They there are models of cottages that can be built do toys and baskets, too. Yes, we'll all be for less than $700, and, above all, there are an educated counthry before long.” the new industries lifting their feeble heads. While the Exhibition has shown the many “You'll not forget," said young Ireland, foreign visitors what Ireland can do, it has after his grandfather had been left to look had the greater function of showing the Irish hungrily at the pikes of '48, “that our agri- themselves of what they are capable. Young cultural class is four times as great as any Ireland sees that he needs education for mind, other class; so don't be expecting too much. hands, and character, and he is eager for it. But look at the mosaic work the man's ma- Boys of the switchback age could be seen going king before your eyes; the king himself bought from plot to plot in the agricultural display, some. And the stained glass, quite a new noting what scientific farming could produce child to Ireland, you might say. We got sick in grains and flax, even on bog-land. Many of the fat German saints looking down on us a person at the Fair, the pessimists say, looked in church. We like the slim Irish figures in and learned nothing. But the attempt is The Miracle-Workers 497 significant. The Department, the Gaelic that has been one cause of the industrial in- League, and other associations-cooperative ertia in Ireland. leagues and banks literally in the hundreds— Though many are asking for more political in addition to the growing movement of tem- freedom, without at present much chance perance, are pushing young Ireland forward. of obtaining it, yet if the demands of oth- He knows he must not lean on any one staffers are summed up, it amounts to a little but must take help wherever he can find it comfort, a stop to the emigration, and a new Moreover, the Irish met one another at the industrial Ireland made by the hands of her Exhibition. The isolation of the island, the own sons on the hills and plains of old-storied neglect of it for centuries, and its lack of Erin. This last, at least, Ireland is slowly transportation facilities have made the people quarrying for herself out of hard substance. ignorant of themselves, to say nothing of the The white city at Dublin is the voice, to a world outside. The Exhibition has served to world often impatient with her, of an old, poor, introduce the parts to the whole. The pity and sick country struggling through many is that so many of the inhabitants were too difficulties to convalescence and working poor to attend. Some were there who had through various channels toward economic been saving for four years to come, people and industrial unity, and toward modern from Kerry and Galway who had never be- business methods. It would be a graceless fore ridden on a train. They may be among world that would not, in the Irish phrase, give those who will go home and help break her back a helping hand and a “Good luck through the crust of pessimism and prejudice to you.” The Miracle-Workers Modern Science in the Industrial World By HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS, LL.D. M ORE and more the world is coming to MI realize to what a startling and almost incredible degree the application of scien- tific knowledge has changed the aspect of the productive industries. In every direc- tion eager experimenters are on the track of new discoveries. It will probably not be long, for example, before a way will be found to produce electric light without heat, in imi- tation of the wonderful glow-worm's lamp. Then in due course we must learn to use fuel without the appalling waste that at present seems unavoidable. A modern steam-engine utilizes only from five to ten per cent of the energy that the burning fuel gives out as heat — the rest is dissipated without serving the slightest useful purpose. The new studies in radio- activity have taught us that every molecule of matter has locked up among its whirling atoms and corpuscles a store of energy com- pared with which the heat energy is but a bagatelle. It is estimated that a little pea-- sized fragment of radium has energy enough in store-could we but learn to use it-to drive the largest steamship across the ocean, taking the place of the hundreds of tons of coal now consumed. How to unlock this treasury of the molecule, how to get at these atomic and corpuscular forces, is what the scientists and mechanics of the future must learn. If problems of energy offer such alluring possibilities as this, problems of matter are even more inspiring. The new synthetic chemistry sets no bounds to its ambitions. It has succeeded in manufacturing madder, indigo, and a multitude of minor compounds; it hopes some day to manufacture rubber, starch, sugar-even albumen itself, the very 498 Everybody's Magazine basis of life. Rubber is a relatively simple compound of hydrogen and carbon; starch and sugar are composed of hydrogen, car. bon, and oxygen; albumen has the same constituents, plus nitrogen. The raw ma- terials for building up these substances lie everywhere about us in abundance. A lump of coal, a glass of water, and a whiff of atmosphere contain all the nutritive ele- ments, could we properly mix them, of a loaf of bread or of a beefsteak. And science will never rest content till it has learned how to make the combination. phere, but unlike oxygen it is not directly available for the use of plants or animals. Yet nitrogen is an absolutely essential con- stituent of the tissues of every living organ- ism, vegetable or animal. To be made available as food for plants, however (and thus indirectly as food for animals), it must be combined with some other element, to form a soluble salt. But unfortunately the atoms of nitrogen are not prone to enter into such combinations; under all ordinary conditions they prefer a celibate existence. In every thunder-storm, a certain quantity of nitrogen is, through the agency of light- ning, made to combine with the hydrogen of dissociated water vapor, to form ammo- nia; and this ammonia, washed to the earth dissolved in rain-drops, will in due course combine with constituents of the soil and become available as plant food. Once made captive in this manner, the nitrogen atom may pass through many changes and vicis- situdes. As animal excreta or as residue of decaying flesh it may return to the soil, to form the chief constituent of a guano bed, or of a nitrate bed-in which latter case it combines with lime or potash or sodium to form a rocky stratum of the earth's crust which may not be disturbed for untold ages. SCIENCE TRANSFORMS THE FARM More than any one class of workers, science has helped the farmer. The up-to-date farmer knows the chemical composition of the soil; understands what constituents are needed by particular crops, and what fer- tilizing methods must be employed to keep his land from deteriorating. He knows how to combat fungoid and insect pests by chemical means; how to meet the encroach- ment of the army of weeds. In the orchard, he can tell by the appearance of leaf and bark whether the soil needs more of nitrogen, of potash, or of humus. In barnyard and dairy he applies a knowledge of the chemis- try of foods to his treatment of flock and herd; he knows the importance of ventilating his stables that the stock may have an adequate supply of oxygen; he milks his cows with a mechanical apparatus, ex- tracts the cream with a centrifugal “separa- tor," churns by steam or by electrical power But science has done more than teach him these comparatively little things. It has solved for him a problem of vital signifi- cance; has rendered him a service that, in effect, is one of the greatest triumphs of modern times. A moment's reflection on the conditions that govern vegetable and animal life in a state of nature will make it clear that a soil once supplied with soluble nitrates is likely to be replenished almost perpetually through the decay of vegetation. But it is equally clear that when the same soil is tilled by man, the balance of nature is at once disturbed. Every pound of grain or of meat shipped to market removes a portion of nitrogen; and unless the deficit is artificially supplied, the soil soon becomes impoverished. As every one knows, nitrogen forms more than three-fourths of the bulk of the atmos- AN ARTIFICIAL FERTILIZER Now an artificial supply of nitrogen is not easily secured—though something like twenty-five million tons of it are weighing down impartially upon every square mile of the earth's surface. In the midst of this plenty, the farmer has been obliged to take his choice between seeing his land become yearly more and more sterile, and sending to far-off nitrate beds for material to take the place of that removed by his successive crops. The most important of the nitrate beds are in Chile, and have been in operation since 1830. The draft upon these beds has increased enormously in recent years, with the increas- ing needs of the world's population. In 1870, for example, only 150,000 tons of nitrate were shipped; but in 1890 the annual output had grown to 800,000 tons; and it now exceeds a million and a half of tons. Conservative es- timates predict that at the present rate of increased output the entire supply will be exhausted in less than twenty years. And for some years scientists and economists have been asking themselves, What then? But now electrochemistry has found means The Miracle-Workers 499 would produce outside the magnetic field. But obviously it adds enormously to the arc- light surface that comes in contact with the air -and hence in like proportion to the amount of nitrogen that will be ignited. In point of fact, this burning of nitrogen takes place so rapidly, in laboratory experiments, as to viti- ate the air of the room very quickly. to extract nitrogen from the atmosphere, in a form available as plant food, and at a cost that enables the new synthetic product to compete in the market with the Chile nitrate; and has thereby placed to its credit another triumph, second to none, perhaps, among all its conquests. The author of this truly remarkable feat is Christian Birkeland, a Scandinavian scientist, professor of physics in the University of Christiania. His experiments were begun only about three years ago, but already a large factory is in successful operation at Notodden. The significance of Professor Birkeland's accomplishment lies in the fact that he has demonstrated the possibility of making nitrogen combine with oxygen in large quan- tities and at a relatively low expense. The mere fact of the combination, as a laboratory possibility, had been demonstrated in an elder generation by Cavendish, and more recently by Sir William Crookes and Lord Rayleigh in England and Professors W. Mutjmann and H. Hofer in Germany. Moreover, the experi- ments of Messrs. Bradley and Lovejoy at Ni- agara Falls had seemed to give promise of a complete solution of the problem; had, indeed, produced a nitrogen compound from the air in commercial quantity, but not, unfortunate- ly, at a cost that made competition with the Chile nitrate possible. All these experimenters had adopted elec- tricity as the agent for extracting the nitro- gen. The American investigators employed a current of 10,000 volts; the Germans car- ried the current to 50,000 volts. The flame of the electric arc thus produced readily ignited the nitrogen with which it came in contact; the difficulty was that it came in contact with so little. Despite ingenious arrangements of multiple poles, the burning surface of the multiple arc remained so small in proportion to the expenditure of energy that the cost of the operation far exceeded the commercial value of the product. AND STORING IT IN CANS To the casual reader, unaccustomed to chemical methods, there may seem a puzzle in the explanation just outlined. He may be disposed to say: “You speak of the nitrogen as being ignited and burned; but if it is burned, and thus consumed, how can it be of service?” Such a thought is natural enough to one who thinks of combustion as applied to ordinary fuel, which certainly seems to dis- appear when it is burned. But of course even the tyro in chemistry knows that the fuel has not really disappeared except in a very crude visual sense; it has merely changed its form. In the main its solid substance has become gaseous, but every atom of it is still just as real as before; and the chemist could, under proper conditions, collect and weigh and measure the transformed gases, and even retransform them into solids. In the case of the atmospheric nitrogen, as in the case of ordinary fuel, “burning" con- sists essentially in the union of nitrogen atoms with atoms of oxygen. The province of the electric current is to produce the high tem- perature at which alone such union will take place. The portion of nitrogen that has been thus “burned” is still gaseous, but is no longer in the state of pure nitrogen; its atoms are united with oxygen atoms to form nitrous- oxide gas. This gas, mixed with the atmos- phere in which it has been generated, may now be passed through a reservoir of water, and the new gas combines with a portion of water to form nitric acid, each molecule of which is a compound of one atom of hydrogen and one atom of nitrogen with three atoms of oxygen. And nitric acid, as every one knows, is a very active substance. It is as marked in its eagerness to unite with other substances as pure nitrogen is in its aloofness. In the commerical nitrogen factory at Notodden, the transformed nitrogen com- pound is brought in contact with a solution of milk of lime, with the resulting formation of nitrate of lime (calcium nitrate). Stored in closed cans as a milky fluid, the transformed TAPPING THE ATMOSPHERE The peculiarity of Professor Birkeland's method is based on the curious fact that when the electric current is made to pass through a magnetic field, its line of flame spreads out into a large disk—"like a flaming sun.” The sheet of flame thus produced represents no greater expenditure of energy than the mo- mentary flash of light that the same current 500 Everybody's Magazine atmosphere is now ready for the market. A little subject to tarnishing; like iron it has certain amount of it will be used in other great hardness and tensile strength; and it has manufactories, for the production of various an added property of extreme lightness that is nitrogenous chemicals — for example, gun- all its own. Add to this the fact that alumi- powder; but the bulk of it will be shipped to num is extremely abundant everywhere in agricultural districts to be spread over the soil nature it is a constituent of nearly all soils as fertilizer, and to be absorbed in due course and is computed to form about the twelfth into the tissues of plants to form the food of part of the entire crust of the earth-while the animals and man. other valuable metals are relatively rare, and it will appear that aluminum must be destined PROGRESS IN EXTRACTING ALUMINUM to play an important part in the mechanics of the future. There is every indication that One of the most interesting and most im- the iron beds will begin to give out at no im- portant processes to which modern science measurably distant day; but the supply of has been applied is the method employed in aluminum is absolutely inexhaustible. Until extracting the metal aluminum from its ores now there has been no ready means known of by the electrolytic process. This process is extracting it from the clay of which it forms based on the discovery made by Mr. Charles so important a constituent. But at last M. Hall, while he was a student working in a electrochemistry has solved the problem; college laboratory, that the mineral cryolite and aluminum is sure to take an important will absorb alumina to the extent of twenty- place among the industrial metals, even though five per cent. of its bulk, as a sponge does it fall short of the preeminent position as water. The solution of this compound is then “the metal of the future” that was once acted on by electricity, and the aluminum is prematurely predicted for it. deposited as pure metal. A curiously in- In the case of the aluminum manufacture, teresting practical detail of the process is electricity operates according to the strange based on the fact that pulverized coke re- process of electrolysis, in virtue of which mains perfectly dry when stirred into a cru- certain atoms of matter move to one pole cible containing the hot alumina solution; of a battery while other atoms move to the moreover it rises to the surface and remains opposite pole, thus affecting a separation- there as a shield to protect the workmen the result being, in the case in question, the against the heat of the solution. It serves deposit of pure aluminum at the negative pole. still another purpose, as the powdered alumina In the case of the nitrogen factory, however, may be sifted upon it and left there to dry the manner of operation of the electric cur- before being stirred into the crucible. rent is quite different. Electricity, as such, A process as simple as this, contrasted with is not really concerned in the matter. The the usual methods of smelting metals in fiercely efficiency of the current depends solely upon heated furnaces, seems altogether wonderful. its production of heat. Any other agency Here a pure metal is extracted from the clayey that brought the atmosphere to a correspond- earth of which it formed a part, without being ing temperature would be equally efficacious in melted or subjected to any of the familiar igniting the nitrogen. But in actual practise, processes of the picturesque but costly, for this particular purpose, no other known laborious, and even dangerous blast-furnace. means of producing high temperatures could There is no glare and roar of fires; there are at all compete with the electric arc. no showers of sparks; there is no gush of fiery streams of molten metal. A silent and INCREDIBLE TEMPERATURES invisible electric current, generated by the fall of distant waters, does the work more There are numerous other industrial opera- expeditiously, more efficiently, and more tions involving the employment of high tem- cheaply than could any other method as yet peratures, in which electricity is equally pre- discovered. eminent. With the electric arc it is possible To appreciate fully the importance of the to attain a temperature of nearly 3,600 de- method just outlined, we must reflect that grees centigrade-and even this might be aluminum is a metal combining in some exceeded were it not that carbon, of which measure the properties of silver, copper, and the electrodes are composed, volatilizes at iron. It rivals copper as a conductor of that temperature. With ordinary fuels the electricity; like silver it is white in color and highest attainable temperature in the blast- The Miracle-Workers 501 furnace is only about 1,800 degrees; and long been a dream of the experimenter. The the oxyhydrogen flame is only about two conditions under which diamonds are pro- hundred degrees hotter. A mixture of duced in nature are pretty well understood; oxygen and acetylene, however, burns at a and on a small scale they have for some time temperature almost equaling that of the been duplicated in the laboratory, and even- electric arc; and this flame, manipulated with though here quite unwittingly–in the work- the aid of a blowpipe, offers a useful means shop. Nothing more is necessary than to of applying a high temperature locally, for reduce carbon-a bit of coal or graphite or such processes as the welding of metals. lampblack-to a liquid condition, combine it The very highest temperatures yet reached with a solvent, and maintain it under great in laboratory or workshop, however, are due pressure until it cools, when crystals of the to the use of explosive mixtures. Thus, a pure carbon will form just as do crystals of mixture of granulated aluminum and oxide of quartz or sugar or salt under like conditions- iron, when ignited by a fulminating powder, and these crystals of carbon constitute true readjusts its atoms to form oxide of aluminum diamonds. But the difficulty lies in the ex- and pure iron, and does it with such fervor treme reluctance with which carbon assumes that a temperature of about 3,000 degrees the liquid state. Under pressure, to be sure, is reached, and the resulting iron is not it will liquefy; but the pressure required is merely melted but brought almost to the about fifteen tons to the square inch. In the boiling-point. Practical advantage is taken depths of the earth, such a pressure may be of this reaction in the repairing of broken im- applied by the weight of geological strata; but plements of iron or steel, the making of con how may it be attained in the laboratory? tinuous rails for trolleys, and the like. A most ingenious answer to this question was found by Prof. Henri Moissan, of Paris. It is based on the well-known fact that the MAN-MADE DIAMONDS metal iron has the property — which it This reaction of aluminum and iron does shares with a few other substances, including not, to be sure, give a higher temperature water-of expanding instead of contracting than the electric arc. This culminating feat as it passes from the liquid to the solid state; has been achieved through the explosion of combined with the further fact that liquid iron cordite in closed steel chambers, the experi- absorbs or dissolves carbon, much as water 5 being the Englishmen Sir Andrew does sugar, in increasing quantity with in- Noble and Sir F. Abel. It is difficult to creasing temperature. Moissan fills an iron estimate accurately such heat and such pres- receptacle with pure iron and pure carbon sures as were attained in these experiments; obtained by calcining sugar, closes it tightly, but it is believed that the temperature ap- and rapidly heats it to the highest temperature proximated 5,000 degrees, while the pressure attainable in an electric furnace, bringing represented the almost inconceivable push of it to a degree of heat at which the lime fur- ninety tons to the square inch-a power nace begins to melt, and the iron volatilizes sufficient to lift the weight of an entire regi- in clouds. ment of soldiers. It may be of interest to explain that cordite CONTROLLING TITANIC FORCES is a form of smokeless powder composed of guncotton, nitroglycerin, and mineral jelly. The dazzling fiery receptacle is then lifted No doubt the extreme heat produced by its out and plunged instantly into cold water, explosion is associated with the suddenness of until its outer surface is cooled and hardened, the reaction; corresponding to the efficiency thus forming a shell of iron that holds the in- as a propellant that has led to the adoption of terior contents with an inflexible grip. As this this powder for use in the small arms of the molten interior matter cools, the carbon British army. No commercial use has yet separates from the iron solvent in liquid drops, been made of cordite as a mere producer of and under the almost unimaginable pressure heat; but there is an interesting suggestion of of expansion of the solidifying iron, these possible future uses in the fact that crystals liquid drops become solid crystals of dia- of diamond have been found in the residue of mond. . the explosion chamber-microscopic in size B y a long slow process the iron ingot and to be sure, but veritable diamonds. the various impurities are dissolved and fused The production of artificial diamonds has away, until nothing remains but the pure . m 502 Everybody's Magazine diamond crystals. These are but fragments, the crystals originally being under such a condition of internal stress as to break on the smallest provocation-a phenomenon some- times observed also in the case of the natural diamond. The mere liberation from the intense pressure under which the gems are formed appears to be enough to cause them to fly into fragments. The fragments them- selves, however, have all the characteristic stability and hardness of ordinary diamonds. proportion of the alleged rubies on the market, for example, have this defect, and would not be classed by legitimate dealers as true rubies, but as “spinel” or “balas” rubies. Gems of the true sapphire order are manu- factured by bringing alumina to a liquid state, through the agency of extreme heat: the gems crystallize from the solution on cooling. Fortunately it is not necessary, as in the case of the diamond, to have the operation per- formed under pressure; hence the relative facility with which these gems may be pro- duced. A practical difficulty is found, however, in the fact that the crystals tend to take the form of thin plates, unsuited to the purposes of the gem-cutter. This is the chief reason why artificial rubies and emeralds have not long been familiar in commerce; for it is almost seventy years since the first true rubies were made in the laboratory. The earliest successful experiments in this direction were made in 1837 by Gaudin, who produced true rubies of microscopic size. It was not till 1877 that MM. Frémy and Feil succeeded in making crystals of a size from which gems could be cut; and still another quarter of a century elapsed before a method of manufacture was devised that could put the enterprise on a commercial basis. DIAMONDS FOUND IN STEEL The conditions which may thus be estab- lished in the laboratory are duplicated to some extent in the commercial manufacture of certain kinds of steel, which are cooled from the molten state under intense hydraulic pressure; and steel so made may actually contain microscopic diamonds, as Professor Rosel, of the University of Bern, has demon- strated. It has even been suggested that the hardness of steel may be due, in part at least, to the presence of diamond particles every where in its substance. Ordinarily these diamond crystals, where they exist in steel, are almost infinitesimal in size; but in one case, in a block of steel and slag from a fur- nace in Luxembourg, a clear, crystalline diamond was found measuring about one- fiftieth of an inch across—this being the largest artificial diamond yet recorded. It would be futile to predict how soon diamonds of marketable size may be produced; but in the mean time the similar problem of manufacturing relatively large gems of other kinds-rubies, sapphires, emeralds, the Orien tal amethyst, and the Oriental topaz-has yielded its full secrets to science. Just as the brilliant diamond is only a particular state of so familiar and inexpensive a substance as carbon, so these sister gems some of them even exceeding the diamond in value, weight for weight-are merely crystal- line forms of the clayey earth alumina-a compound of aluminum and oxygen. If no coloring matter is present, this crystal is called a white sapphire. Usually, however, a trace of some chromium or cobalt salt is found, and then the gem becomes a true sapphire, a ruby, an amethyst, an emerald, or a topaz, according to color. The presence of a small percentage of magnesium and of silica may greatly mar the hardness and therefore the real value of the stone, without greatly altering the appearance to casual inspection. A large MAKING GEMS FOR THE MARKET The method was adopted of fusing alu- mina in the presence of some other substance such as borax or barium fluoride which would act as a solvent. As the solvent evaporated, the alumina crystals were de- posited, their color being predetermined partly by the quantity of chromium salts placed in the original mixture, and partly by the degree of heat employed. The great difficulty about the shape of the crystals was finally met through the ingenuity of M. Verneuil, who devised a method by which the alumina powder — prepared originally from a solution of common alum-is sifted down a tube through an oxyhydrogen flame. Thus fused, it is deposited drop by drop on a fixed point below the flame, where it builds up a pear-shaped crystal precisely as stalagmites are built up by dripping water in a cave. Unfortunately the gem thus formed breaks into fragments when touched; but the fragments are still of marketable size; and true rubies and emeralds thus manu- factured have now entered the field of com- merce. OSAS Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen? By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of "Soldiers of the Common Good" EDITOR'S NOTE.—In this, the third article in his series on the sources of certain sud- den American fortunes, Mr. Russell resumes his narrative of the financial adventures of Thomas F. Ryan. He shows how Mr. Ryan, the able but little known Wall Street operator, was graduated into the circle of the great and gifted financiers. Beginning with his first great victory, the story carries him through his connection with the Hocking Valley deal up to that conspicuous and historic financial achievement—the acquisition of the Seaboard Air Line. This is one of the most instructive examples of the modern art of fortune-making, and demon- strates the indubitable superiority of the New Finance over old-fashioned business methods, limited by honesty and good faith. CHAPTER V just pulled off a thing that showed he knew the Agreeable Formula and could work it as THE STORY OF THE GREAT MILWAUKEE DEAL well as anybody else could. On November 30, 1888, with Fahnstock & IF Thomas F. Ryan," said Mr. Whitney re- Co., of New York, Mr. Ryan bought the Mil- I flectively, one day in 1889, “lives out the waukee City Railway Company, the largest ordinary span of life, he will be the richest of the four street-railroad concerns then in man in the world.” Milwaukee. It owned thirty-six miles of Mr. Ryan was then a comparatively ob- track, 700 horses, and 100 cars. The price scure operator, whose achievements in New nominated in the deed of conveyance was $1 York had been small and who, except for one and other good and valuable considerations; thing, was chiefly remembered as the treas- but the price on which the purchase was urer of Mr. Whitney's unsuccessful New actually figured was $1,293,750. Mr. Ryan York Cable Railroad. and Fahnstock & Co., applying the Formula But Mr. Whitney had other knowledge of by which Something is made from Nothing, Mr. Ryan. As soon as Jake Sharp had won property is acquired without cost, and for- the Broadway prize, Mr. Whitney dropped tunes and golden palaces are built in a night, the cable project and wasted upon it no more immediately bonded their purchase for of his good time, so that it lapsed into a thing $1,000,000, and the next day, December ist, for financial faddists and for the charges of were filed the articles of incorporation of a the “black horse cavalry” at Albany. But new company with $1,500,000 capital, 4,000 when he saw his way back into the street-rail- shares of preferred stock, and 11,000 shares road business and founded his syndicate and of common. This gave a total capitalization regained the Broadway franchise, he placed of $2,500,000, against a nominal purchase his greatest dependence upon Mr. Ryan, who price of $1,293,750. In other words it became in all his deals his chief lieutenant enabled the purchasers to secure the railroad and executive. without expending one cent for it and also One reason why Mr. Whitney thought so provided a handsome balance in cash, or well of Mr. Ryan was that Mr. Ryan had its equivalent, all furnished by the in- 503 504 Everybody's Magazine dulgent public - a result for which the always in other hands. But his time was Formula is unrivaled. The Central Trust to come, and no man alive was better able of New York took the bonds. There were to wait, a fact that recalls another story, some claims against the old company, amount- also with a moral. ing to a few thousand dollars, that were assumed, and some other claims that were not assumed. Certain lawyers had bills to be CHAPTER VI settled, but Mr. Ryan and his associates from New York came into Milwaukee so quietly THE STORY OF THE HOCKING VALLEY LOOT and did their business so unostentatiously that they were gone before the sheriff had a This is a little story of the Agreeable chance to serve his writs. Formula as the veritable Philosopher's Stone Eighteen months later, in June, 1890, of wealth, and how easily it turns to gold through negotiations conducted by Henry C. whatever it touches. It is especially com- Payne, afterward Postmaster-General of the mended to the attention of the flat-dwellers United States, Mr. Ryan and Fahnstock & and others among the little able, because it Co. sold the entire stock of the Milwaukee contains many useful and informing lessons: City Railway Company to the Villard Syndi- one of them concerning the view that the cate for about $1,750,000, a sum that in view courts have taken of some of these perform- of the bond and stock issues, represented ances of the gifted, and another being the almost clear profits. The Villard Syndicate exact amount of ability required to make later went into the hands of a receiver. In these gorgeous fortunes. the proceedings the fact was disclosed that I suppose few of us whose memories go soon after the sale of the Milwaukee City back so far will need to be told that twen- Railway had been effected, the syndicate had ty-five years ago the railroad system of the offered a very large sum to be released from its United States, which is now controlled by bargain and allowed to return the property- seven men, consisted of hundreds of separate from which the actual condition of the goods properties, some of them exceedingly small may be surmised. and quite independent. Three of these little Then where the gentlemen concerned in this lines, the Columbus & Hocking Valley, the typical instance got their share of IT is clear Columbus & Toledo, and the Ohio & West enough. For the time that Mr. Ryan and his Virginia, existed in 1881 in the coal region associates held the Milwaukee City Railway of Ohio. Henry B. Payne, Chauncey H. they did nothing to improve it. The com- Andrews, Jeptha H. Wade, and three other munity gained from their ownership no shred Ohio capitalists united with one Stevenson of advantage. They made transportation Burke in a scheme to combine and possess no whit better, cheaper, nor easier. They these properties and others. Henry B. Payne performed no service to society. They simply was one of the controlling powers in the reached out their hands with the Formula Standard Oil Company, from which he had for Fortune-making and drew them back drawn an enormous fortune, and was the with $1,500,000, which the people of Mil- father-in-law of William C. Whitney. He waukee must supply and continue to supply has also a kind of fame in Ohio and elsewhere, many times over. So you can see in exactly through the charge brought against him that how much of utility or of public service lie he purchased his seat in the United States the foundations of at least one of the palaces. Senate, and for other reasons not necessary to discuss here. The other members of the RYAN TASTES BLOOD pool were rich, but not so rich as Mr. Payne. Included in the property of the three little This was Mr. Ryan's first great victory in railroads were some coal lands, and coal lands finance and it naturally gave him much de- are always good to have. The gentlemen of served reputation. Mr. Whitney heard of the pool earnestly desired to have the coal the achievement and doubtless thought well lands as well as the railroads. Presently of it, for it confirmed his previous high estimate they found themselves in possession of the coal of Mr. Ryan's capacity. lands, the railroads, and other good and Nevertheless, for a few years Mr. Ryan's valuable things, and without expending a cent share in the actual steering of the syndicate therefor, or performing any labor or making was small, and the laying of the course was any effort, or returning any equivalent, and Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 505 yet without risking the penitentiary. How reward the able. Net profits of $2,000,000 did this marvel come about? and a railroad are probably more than any In this simple but effective way: six or even seven flat-dwellers made that First, the seven eminent gentlemen forming year, but of course there is to be considered the pool executed twenty-four separate notes, the syndicate's services to society, presently aggregating $6,000,000. These notes Mr. to be disclosed in full. Burke took to New York, where they were The next chapter of the story introduces discounted by the banking firm of Winslow, two additional characters. So evanescent is Lanier & Co., acting with Drexel, Morgan & the glory of politics that I suppose not many Co. and the Central Trust Company. With men can now of a sudden find in their the funds thus secured the pool bought the memories the face and fame of James J. three little railroads and the coal lands apper- Belden, of Syracuse; yet of old time he was taining thereto. The railroads they con- a great figure in New York State and national solidated into the Columbus, Hocking Valley politics and in that peculiar and unillumined & Toledo, a name long and odorously fa- borderland where politics and business fare miliar in railroad history, and the coal lands hand in hand. "Jim" Belden, he was called; they reserved for other purposes. a smooth, suave, resourceſul gentleman of a Having thus secured control of the prop- varied, sometimes picturesque, and usually erty, the gentlemen issued upon it $14,500,000 successful career. of five per cent. bonds, whereof it was an- nounced that $6,500,000 were required to take TWO RESOURCEFUL GENTLEMEN up the outstanding obligations of the three little roads, and the remaining $8,000,000 were Mr. Ryan knew him well and he knew to be used for needed improvements, such as Mr. Ryan; they had reason to know each laying double track and increasing the equip- other, having some interests in common ment. At least this was the plain declaration and very likely some sympathetic views. of the resolutions of the directors authorizing In 1889 it occurred to one of them, which the honds and of the mortgage on which the one I do not know, that all the good bonds were based. There could hardly be a things were not gone out of Columbus, Hock- stronger covenant framed in words. Of the ing Valley & Toledo. Wall Street knew $14,500,000 bonds thus issued, $6,500,000 pretty well the operations of the Burke were duly used to pay off the existing obliga- Syndicate and generally believed them to be tions of the three little roads, but for a good questionable. Not because they differed in and sufficient reason there was no double their essence from one hundred other similar tracking, there were no other improvements. transactions by which great fortunes had been built, but because in this instance the thing had been done too boldly and with a brutal INVESTMENT, NOTHING; PROFIT, $2,000,000 candor repulsive to good taste. Wall Street The gentlemen in the pool had utilized the did not interfere with the achievement, be- coal lands that went with their purchase to cause such is not its way, but it held the game organize another corporation—the Continen- to have gone too far and to be subject to in- tal Coal Company. They now exchanged the vestigation by the courts. Mr. Ryan and Mr. stock of the Continental Coal Company for Belden must have become inoculated with this the $8,000,000 that still remained of the newly view. Mr. Belden went out into the Street issued Columbia, Hocking Valley & Toledo and bought $50,000 of the Columbus, Hock- bonds. With $6,000,000 of the bonds thus ing Valley & Toledo bonds. Then he sud- secured, they paid off the twenty-four original denly brought suit against Stevenson Burke, notes that had been discounted by Winslow, Winslow, Lanier & Co., Drexel, Morgan & Lanier & Co., Drexel, Morgan & Co., and Co., and the Central Trust Company, to the Central Trust Company. There was compel the return to the railroad's treasury left $2,000,000 of the bonds, which they di of the $8,000,000 in bonds that had gone to vided among themselves. pay off the syndicate's twenty-four notes and Their balance-sheet then showed an invest had otherwise been used for the benefit of the ment of nothing, capital nothing, expenditure pool. nothing; net profits, a railroad system and In advance of the bringing of this suit, Mr. $2,000,000—which might be termed fairly re- Ryan had gathered all his available means, munerative work and shows how liberally we and very quietly, as was his wont, he had laid 506 Everybody's Magazine in the stock of the railroad. It looked like a good thing, because there was no doubt that the original transaction was essentially dis- honest, and if the courts should so decide, the $8,000,000 would have to be returned to the treasury of the Columbus, Hocking Valley & Toledo (where it was badly needed), and the stock of that railroad would certainly go soar- ing. At the time, the stock was inert and the price very low, for the load of bonds placed on the property by the Payne-Burke pool had almost broken the road's back, and all it could squeeze, gouge, and trick from the patient public (which in every case pays for these amusements) could hardly provide the fixed charges. So with cheerful heart, no doubt, Mr. Ryan bought heavily. So did Mr. Belden-quietly, always quietly. ELIHU ROOT APPEARS FOR RYAN Winslow, Lanier & Co. bitterly fought the suit. On each side was a great array of counsel, and without surprise we find our old friend Elihu Root, now Secretary of State, fighting for Belden-and Ryan. After pro- found argument, Judge Ingraham, who heard the suit, rendered a decision that, while not held to determine definitely all the points at issue, ruled essentially against Belden--and Ryan. The ground on which Judge Ingra, ham based his decision was chiefly this, that the money that the plaintiff sought to recover had never been in the possession of the rail- road company, but had been appropriated by certain members of the pool to their own uses. Hence it was not covered by the mortgage and hence it was no concern of Belden's, whose claim was based upon the mortgage and upon nothing else. On appeal from this finding, the old General Term practically sustained Judge Ingraham, although it severely denounced the actions of Burke and his associates. It excluded from any liability the banking firms from which Belden and Ryan expected to recover and restricted their action to Stevenson Burke, who probably had no such sum of money. It is proper to add that Henry B. Payne and two other members of the pool were exempted from the suit, it having been shown that they received no part of the plunder. The case then went to the Court of Appeals. But now a very strange thing happened and one for which there has never been any adequate explanation. To this day it remains among the historic mysteries of high finance. Just before the Court of Appeals handed down its decision in the case, there came secretly from Albany a definite rumor that the findings below would be reversed and that the majority opinion would be for Belden- and Ryan. I may say that it is not usual for advance information to leak out concerning a decision by the Court of Appeals; not usual and not proper. As a rule, the decisions of this, the most solemn and august court in the State, are an inviolable secret until they are officially promulgated. But in this case Mr. Ryan seems to have believed that he had news of the impending decision, news that he, most careful and deliberate of men, felt that he could not doubt; and thus secure in his ability, energy, and foresight, he bought more and more of the stock, standing to make enormous profits on the advance that was to be. But when the decision came out, lo, it was against him! That Burke and his companions had looted the Columbus, Hocking Valley & Toledo of $8,000,000 of bonds the decision clearly admitted; but it held that since Belden had bought his bonds with a full knowledge of all the facts and subsequent thereto and had bought them for the sole purpose of bringing the suit, he was not entitled to re- cover. Somebody else might be so entitled, but not Belden. Something about the decision always seemed baffling and unsatisfactory. A story was circulated and eventually printed that the judgment handed down was not the judgment of the majority of the court, that the advance report that Mr. Ryan received of the decision was at the time well-founded, and that the opinion rendered was really the opinion of a dissenting minority of the court. RYAN'S PERTINACITY All this helped Mr. Ryan nothing. His ability, energy, and foresight had gone astray: there was no rise of Columbus, Hocking Valley & Toledo stock, no magnificent coup, no millions seized in a day. On the con- trary, he saw the ship of his fortunes driving toward a lee shore, and it was only by a changing wind that he could claw off. As to the plundered Columbus, Hocking Valley & Toledo, according to all precedent and all the logic of the situation, that, being a poor staggering concern overloaded with loot bonds and such things, should have gone to Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 507 the junk heap. But in the course of time there in a long, resolute, fiercely fought duel for a came a business revival through the country prize of property, one fighting with old- resulting in an increased demand for coal, fashioned ideas of business integrity, the and the wretched thing managed by sheer other with all the resources of the New good fortune to sustain itself. Years after- Finance. What do you think? That ought ward Mr. Ryan hooked to it some more rail- to be worth while, ought it not? for it will roads similarly broken-backed, blanketed show something about our new ways as these (if you will believe me) with more of the compared with the old, and will reveal still handy mortgage, and in the end sold the whole further to the flat-dweller the paths that lead curio collection at a profit-a consummation from his $1,639 perch to the high places of characteristic of the other side of fortune prosperity. making which consists of mere luck. But as to the light in which the courts view THE CREATOR OF THE SEABOARD AIR LINE these performances, which was the moral we started with, I cite these condensations from The financial agent of the Confederacy in the scalding opinion of the General Term the Civil War was a Richmond banking house reviewing the methods of Burke and his asso- of which an active member was Mr. John L. ciates. The court found that these methods Williams, greatly esteemed through the South were chiefly as follows: for his stainless reputation and his good 1. Purchasing stocks of other railroads works. He had six sons, whom he trained and getting bankers to advance money on to his own stern code of integrity and per- them by which the control of the roads was sonal honor, and of whom those that did not secured without further expenditure. In other choose professional careers entered success- words, the Formula. ively into partnership with their father. The 2. Buying contiguous coal and other lands eldest of these, John Skelton Williams, de- at less than their actual value and selling them veloped unusual capacity in revitalizing to the company at a large advance. broken-down properties and in endowing them with both honesty and success. Ile did this 3. Issuing the $14,500,000 of bonds for a specified purpose and then using $8,000,000 for a piece of railroad flotsam that his firm of the bonds for another purpose, namely, to had almost by accident become interested in. redeem the notes given to Winslow, Lanier & He put the thing together and made it go, Co., for the benefit of Burke and his asso- and using it for a nucleus, began to add other bits of distressed railroad. He had ciates. 4. Causing the company to mortgage all its energy and enthusiasm and profound faith property to support these bonds. in the future of the South. Thus he prospered 5. Concealing the use really intended to be with the South, and so did the banking firm of nade of these bonds and misrepresenting it in John L. Williams & Sons, Richmond. the covenant declarations of the mortgage. This was in the early nineties. In the eastern part of the Southern country were then All these actions the court held to be utterly many independent short railroad lines, mostly wrong. How they could be wrong in this indifferent and unprofitable. John Skelton instance and right in the many other instances Williams pulled together three or four of in which they have been used (to the decora- these short lines in Georgia and Alabama, tion of upper Fifth Avenue), will puzzle the organizing therefrom the Georgia and Ala- ungifted mind to discern. But anyway the bama Railroad with 460 miles of track, of gentlemen had got IT and continued to pos which he was elected president. He added, sess IT. in the next three or four years, other short lines, eighteen in all, built some hundreds of CHAPTER VII miles of connecting track, and made from it all the Seaboard Air Line Railroad, 2,600 THE STORY OF THE TWO VIRGINIANS miles long, of which in 1899, when he was thirty-three years old, he was made president A third instructive and moral tale might and thus became a powerful factor in the be used to illustrate the romance of modern railroad world. business as well as the road to wealth. wealth. Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan was then paying Here are two Virginians, two men of the especial heed to Southern railroads, and Mr. good old Scotch-Irish strain, and they meet Williams greatly annoyed him by getting 508 Everybody's Magazine possession of lines that Mr. Morgan wanted been informed of what was toward. Osten- for himself. At that time and for long sibly and for public consumption, the cause afterward, Mr. Morgan and Mr. Ryan com- of the trouble was mismanagement by the monly worked together harmoniously, and president of the company, one Beall, and its Mr. Ryan found that by assisting Mr. Mor- involution in the tangled affairs of Thomas gan's plans he was generally furthering his F. McIntyre, one of the directors. McIntyre own. In this instance Mr. Ryan, acting for had plunged on the futile Flour Trust and himself and for Mr. Morgan, undertook to lost. The Produce Exchange Trust Com- get control of the Seaboard Air Line, and pany had lent much money to the Flour thereby block the Williams game. To that Trust; but examination of the company's re- end he secured stock in one of the constit- sources seemed to show that these loans were uent roads and brought a suit (shown in the wholly insufficient to account for the failure. sequel to be baseless) the ultimate purpose A few days later there appeared in the New of which was to prevent the consolidation York Evening Post a carefully written and, and to oust Mr. Williams from his position. so far as one could tell, a well-considered Mr. Williams went out with joy to the conflict; letter from Norfolk, Virginia, in which the the legal battle that followed lasted for years, charge was made and maintained that the was fought with great bitterness and deter Produce Exchange Trust Company had been mination, and ended in the victory of Mr. Wil- dragged down by the Morgan interests in liams. order to embarrass the Williams-Middendorf syndicate, which controlled the Seaboard Air A MYSTERIOUS FAILURE Line. I have not been able to find that this While this was going on, a curious incident charge was ever refuted. occurring in New York caused Mr. Williams Mr. Edwin Gould, who had not before and (and others) a certain degree of perplexity has not since made the least figure in financial and might have had serious results upon his affairs, was the person that innocently pushed affairs. The firm of John L. Williams & over the concern. He had just been chosen Sons, Richmond, was closely allied with the its vice-president, and was led to believe that firm of J. W. Middendorf & Co., Baltimore, the management (by Beall and McIntyre) the two having joint interest in enormous had been very bad. When he had declined development investments in the South, of to go on unless these men resigned and they which the Seaboard Air Line was a part. had refused to resign, the collapse followed. These enterprises were heavily supported and An interesting discovery afterward made by in part financed by the Produce Exchange Mr. Williams was that just before the sus- Trust Company of New York, of which John pension all the papers in the Trust Com- Skelton Williams was a stockholder and pany's vaults that referred to the Seaboard director. One Sunday night in December, Air Line, or to the Williams-Middendorf 1899, Mr. Williams received, at his home in syndicate, had been removed to the office of Richmond, a telegram from the secretary of some one in the Morgan interests. They the company requesting his presence at a di- were subsequently returned but no explana- rectors' meeting in New York, the next morn tion was ever afforded for this peculiar trans- ing at nine o'clock. It was then after the time action. at which the last train should have left for For a few weeks the Trust Company was New York. Mr. Williams discovered that in suspension; then it resumed business. It the train was three hours late, caught it, and still sails the financial seas, though under reached New York at half past nine the next another name. morning. As he was hurrying from the ferry to the meeting, the newsboys were calling extras. He bought one and discovered that NASHVILLE the news was the collapse of the Produce Exchange Trust Company. Three years of fighting, fighting for busi- This failure was and still remains a mysteryness, fighting in the courts, and fighting off of Wall Street. To all appearances the in- the flank attack made through the Trust stitution was beset by no storms that it might Company, had ended in apparent victory for not easily have weathered. The Williams the Williams interests and apparent defeat firm and allies would have been glad to secure for Mr. Ryan. But to bring the Seaboard practically unlimited help for it, if they had Air Line to the full measure of its efficiency, THE FIGHT FOR THE LOUISVILLE AND Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 509 extension and connections were needed, for of miles of track at each end, it could be made course the Morgan lines continued upon it a a through line from Atlanta to Birmingham, relentless warfare. The Louisville & Nash- Alabama, and thus furnish the Seaboard Air ville was then a big, independent railroad, Line with a southwestern outlet. Mr. Wil- owned by conservative men who had no ambi- liams bought this road and began to build. tions toward railroad expansion. It would At this time it is probably better to omit the make an excellent addition to the Seaboard details of what happened next, but there ap- Air Line, and Mr. Williams and the Midden- pears too much reason to think that a game dorf firm quietly undertook to buy it. Before by no means unfamiliar in high finance was long they discovered that Mr. John W. Gates worked, by which the work was made un- was also accumulating the stock and had necessarily expensive and Mr. Williams was secured enough, with the holdings of the Wil- deceived about it. Anyway, the cost of the liams interest, to assure control. At this extensions far exceeded all the estimates juncture Mr. Morgan discovered what was in (just as had previously happened in the the wind. The Williams party had negotiated case of the Third Avenue Railroad in New with the Gates interest and had reached what York), and the Seaboard Air Line was soon seemed to be a definite agreement by which in a position where it must borrow money. the holdings were to be combined and the Louisville & Nashville was to become a part of ENTER THE GENEROUS MR. RYAN the Seaboard Air Line system. Mr. Morgan, who was then in London, was greatly an This was in the summer of 1903, when the noyed and worried by the situation. He sat money market was abnormally tight. Fi- up all of one night sending cable messages nancial stringency temporarily settled upon and receiving replies, that he might prevent the South. The firm of John L. Williams & the delivery of the holdings necessary to Sons had many lines out. It perceived clearly complete the Williams-Gates deal. that it faced a time of trouble. Therefore, having made arrangements to protect its SCHWAB WAKES UP GATES interests and its creditors, it announced in October, 1903, that it had suspended pay- At two o'clock the next morning, Charles ments and asked for seven months in which M. Schwab, the president of the Steel Trust, in to straighten its affairs. The creditors re- which Mr. Morgan was the controlling factor, tained their faith in the firm, no runs ensued came to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel where Mr. upon any of the firm's banks, and at the end Gates lived, awakened him, and told him that of the seven months it fully resumed pay- there had been that night a meeting of some of ments and business; but for the time being the most important banks in New York; that the financial prospects of Southern develop- they regarded the situation as serious; that ment looked dubious. they knew Mr. Gates had purchased great Things were in this situation when, one quantities of Louisville & Nashville; that he day, Mr. S. Davies Warfield, President of a was disturbing the market; and that they Trust Company in Baltimore, of which desired to know and thought they ought to Thomas F. Ryan had been a director, came know where he was depositing the stock as to Mr. Williams in New York and said: collateral. Mr. Gates gave Mr. Schwab the “I have seen Ryan." desired information, and Mr. Schwab went “Seen Ryan, eh?” said Mr. Williams, away. The next day the Morgan interests who was not much interested. had certain conferences with the Gates “Yes, and I think Ryan is the man to interests, and the Gates interests notified help you out of your troubles. He sympa- the Williams party that they could not con- thizes with you, and if it should be entirely tinue the negotiations concerning Louisville agreeable to you to take the matter up with & Nashville. The next thing the Street him, I think you can get from him whatever knew, Louisville & Nashville had been sold money the Seaboard may require." to the Atlantic Coast Line, a Morgan road. Mr. Williams is not a sentimental person, The Seaboard Air Line being thus debarred but here was a fellow-Virginian offering the from the connections it needed, Mr. Williams hand of Southern fraternity, here was a set about forming others. There was a rail- former antagonist coming (with a chivalry road that began nowhere and ended no- that seemed characteristic of the South) to the where, but so lay that by building about fifty relief of a distressed compatriot. Mr. Will- 510 Everybody's Magazine iams admits that he was somewhat moved by pro rata on their holdings. The so-called this act of kindness and gladly consented to a bonus stock, you understand, was a gift, or meeting. It took place at Mr. Ryan's house. premium to induce subscriptions to the bonds. Mr. Ryan greeted Mr. Williams like a long To this proposal Mr. Williams objected lost brother and spoke with strong feeling vehemently, on the ground that it was wholly of the unfortunate position in which Mr. unnecessary. He was convinced that the Williams found himself. actual situation warranted no such increase “You have done such great things," he in the road's indebtedness and that if left said, “and shown so much energy and abil- alone the property would right itself. Sub- ity that it would be most deplorable if you sequently, he discovered that the earnings were not able to go on with the Seaboard Air showed a surplus of $400,000 instead of a Line, and reap the just reward of your deficiency. labors.” When the directors saw that Mr. Williams A FRIENDLY LOAN was determined not to consent, they played their trump card. Then he suggested that they should talk “Very well,” they said. “It is either this over the matter with Blair & Co., which is a loan of $5,000,000 or a receivership. If you name under which Mr. Ryan does brokerage will not consent to the loan, we shall apply business. So Mr. Williams with Mr. Ryan for a receiver.” saw Blair & Co., and Blair & Co. arranged Mr. Williams knew that in the condition for a loan to the Seaboard Air Line of in which his firm stood, a receivership and the $2,500,000, on ample security and the con- consequent depression of Seaboard Air Line dition that certain changes be made in the stock would be a grave disaster. He was Voting Trust and the Board of Directors therefore forced at the pistol's point to ac- by which the Seaboard Air Line was managed. quiesce in the loan, but he stipulated that There was a distinct and explicit understand the bonus stock should not be thrown upon ing, Mr. Williams says, that he should not the market, which was agreed to and under- be disturbed in any way, that he should be stood on all sides. The loan was floated as free as before to carry out his policy, that through Blair & Co., who were to receive five the management of the road should remain as per cent, commission on all the bonds sold it was; but having advanced such a large sum, by whatever means, and who were a party to Mr. Ryan urged that it was only fair he the agreement that the bonus stock should should be represented. not be thrown upon the market. Mr. Williams agreed to this and communi- cated with his friends, some of whom readily AND THE INTEREST ON IT resigned from the board and from the Voting Trust, and other men were named in their Now, although the stock exchange lists places. were showing a strong recovery from the As soon as this had been effected, Mr. panic of the previous summer and prices Williams observed a great change in the were rising, Seaboard, through some myste- attitude of the new directors and quickly dis- rious pressure, was being forced steadily covered that instead of supporting him they down, in the face of increased earnings. were bent upon thwarting him. At almost Mr. Williams very soon discovered by in- the end of December, 1903, they notified him dubitable means that the agreement about that, with January ist close at hand, there the bonus stock was not being kept. Bonus was no money wherewith to pay the coupons, stock was coming out; he saw it with his that the earnings of the road were insufficient eyes and handled it with his hands. He to meet the fixed charges, and that it would went to Mr. Ryan, whom he knew to be the be necessary to effect a new loan of $5,000,000 principal in all these transactions, and com- of which $2,500,000 was to be used to repayplained. Mr. Ryan emphatically denied the loan of $2,500,000 from Blair & Co., a that any bonus stock had been sold. Mr. transaction only a few weeks old. They Williams said he knew better. Mr. Ryan had therefore decided to issue $5,000,000 said Mr. Williams was mistaken. worth of three-year 5 per cent. bonds, coup- “See your Mr. Dennis,” said Williams, ling them with a bonus of $12,500,000 of “and question him about it.” stock ($4,500,000 of it preferred). The “See him yourself,” said Mr. Ryan, and bonds were to be offered to stockholders left the room. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 511 Subsequently Mr. Williams confronted Mr. men got IT. These bonds, $5,000,000 of Dennis, and Mr. Dennis failed to deny that them, issued to save the Seaboard Air Line the bonus stock had been turned loose. from imaginary disaster, bore interest at five He could not very well deny it, for the per cent. With the bonus stock they were thing was palpable. The bonus stock con- offered to the stockholders—the Blair-Ryan tinued to come out, accompanied by the most syndicate to take whatever the stockholders depressing statements from the new direc- did not take and to receive, as a commission tors. for underwriting, $250,000 in cash. Mem- These statements and the flood of stock bers of the syndicate are said to have tried to filled the air with forebodings of impending frighten and dissuade the stockholders from trouble. Under this pressure Seaboard Air taking the bonds. Anyway, the stockholders Line stock was steadily hammered in the took only $2,800,000 of the bonds, leaving market until both common and preferred had $2,200,000 for the syndicate. Deducting its fallen to one-half the price quoted when the commission for underwriting and the interest new directors were chosen. Mr. Williams had that the syndicate received, amounting to long lines of the stock. In the embarrassed $450,000 in all, the cash that the syndicate condition of his firm he found it impossible actually invested was $1,750,000. longer to withstand the pressure, and after On September 1, 1904, the syndicate's ac- a brave but useless fight he was forced to count in the transaction looked like this: surrender. His stock was sold for $3,500,000 less than it was quoted at the year before $2,200,000 five per cent. bonds worth 96.. $2,112,000 Mr. Ryan brought Blair & Co. into the 35,200 shares of common stock (bo- nus) at 17.............. 598,400 property. Whereupon Mr. Ryan took pos 19,800 shares of preferred stock (bo- session of the Seaboard Air Line. nus) at 33.... ..... 653,400 One little incident I ought not to omit. In Total............... $3,363,800 the midst of the stress and strain, Mr. Ryan It had paid out..... ...... 1,750,000 continued to express solicitude for Mr. Williams's welfare and a desire to help and Profit............... $1,613,800 advise him. Mr. Williams, fighting a big battle single-handed, was willing to be ad Or more than ninety per cent. profit on the vised. transaction. This is, of course, exclusive of "Mr. Williams,” said Mr. Ryan one day, the profits made from hammering Seaboard “I have been thinking much about your af stock by means of the bonus issues. fairs, and I see the way out for you.” From which the inference seems clear that Mr. Williams felt glad. one of the ways to get IT is to maneuver your “The thing for you to do, I am con- man in a hole and squeeze him, and another is vinced,” said Mr. Ryan—and he paused to manipulate your generosity so as to get impressively while Mr. Williams gathered returns from it. new hope—“the thing for you is to go into And besides the profits on these operations, bankruptcy." Mr. Ryan had the Seaboard Air Line. But we started to find out where the gentle- Why should any man be poor? “Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen?” will be continued in the November number. The Amateur Skipper By BERT LESTON TAYLOR Author of "The Charlatans," etc. Illustrations by Martin Justico CHARACTERS LOVEST, the Amateur Skipper. GEORGE, their long-suffering friend. SWEETHEART, his wife. MR. TIMBY, a landlubber. Miss WILKINS, a lady landlubber. r the W HEN George rowed us over the George was instructed to make the W bright blue sea to the good dingey fast astern. “We're going to yawl Cauliflower, the Amateur Skip- drag it,” said Bilger. For the enlight- per and his wife were untying the enment of the unnautical it should stops of the mainsail. The jib and be said that a dingey or other small jigger were already set, and, in my boat is always “dragged”-never in landlubberly judgment, any further any circumstances towed. spread of duck held promise of a "Lively now, George,” said the ducking, for it was blowing two- Skipper. “Let's get the mainsail up. thirds of a gale out of the east, and Peak-halyards, old man.” Neptune's white ponies were kicking George had three guesses at the up their heels outside. peak-halyards, and finally got hold “Good sailing breeze," I remarked of them; and while the mainsail was conventionally to George. Anything short of going up, we landlubbers— . a typhoon comes under the head of a good (But I beg pardon, Reader: you have not sailing breeze. met Miss Wilkins. Miss Wilkins, may I "Fine,” replied George. “Beam ends for present Mr. Reader? You know the Read- Bilger to-day." ers—a very large and interested family.) Personally, I am not keen for beam ends. We landlubbers stowed ourselves aft, in a Like honest Gonzalo, I would fain die a dry welter of ropes, and Mrs. Bilger relieved our death. Give me a ten-foot skiff with a leg- minds of any doubts we may have entertained of-mutton sail, a gentle breeze, and a bathing- concerning the stanchness of the good yawl suit, and I don't care what happens—I am Cauliflower. I gathered that she was built indifferent to danger to the point of reckless- on the conservative lines of a cyclone-cellar; ness; but when I put forth in a thirty-foot it was impossible to capsize her; she would yawl, with an amateur skipper and a land- accept a knock-down as cheerfully as a pugil- scape artist for crew, I prefer a dry sheet to ist, and bob up serenely before one could a wet one, and am no fonder of a “snoring count ten. Truth crushed to earth rose not breeze" than of a snoring drummer in a more inevitably. sleeping-car. While we were absorbing these comforting “So glad you could come,” said Mrs. details, Miss Wilkins suddenly clutched my Bilger sweetly, as she hauled us aboard the arm to avoid going over the side; at the same Cauliflower. The Amateur Skipper looked moment there came a sound of ripping canvas. up from his work and nodded cordially. An uncommonly violent gust had slammed “How are you, Timby?” said he. “Great against the wall of the spread mainsail, and day for a sail, isn't it?” His eyes were as the main-sheet had not been cast off, nor bright as were the Ancient Mariner's. The even slackened, the yawl, still at her mooring, prospect of putting the cabin windows under heeled over. Something had to give, and water flooded his strenuous soul with antici- the mainsail tore at a place which, I later patory delight. ascertained, is called the clew. 512 THE INSTINCT OF SELF-PRESERVATION LED ME TO GRASP THE BOBSTAY. 513 514 Everybody's Magazine “Oh, Lovest, what a shame!” exclaimed Mrs. Bilger, her heart in her voice. “Tore out the grommets!” said the Skip- per, in hollow tones. jigger of wind? “The jigger-sail,” said I, first ascertaining that Mrs. Bilger was not listening, “is so called because it holds a measured quantity of wind.” " NEVER MIND ME! I'LI. ROW HOME. IT'S ONLY ELEVEN MILES." “Grommets? What a funny word!” said “How interesting!” murmured Miss Wil- Miss Wilkins. kins. “Nautical terms are perfectly fasci- “Yes,” said George, with a jarring levity; nating, aren't they?" “sounds like something for an English break- I remarked that the terminology of sailing fast, toasted and buttered, doesn't it?” was by far its most interesting feature, and “Drop it, George,” said Bilger dismally, we stood up to watch George slip the mooring. referring to the mainsail. “We'll have to I hope that phrase is correct; it clinks well. go out under the jib and jigger.” I remember reading not long ago, in one of I murmured my regrets, but they were in our smartest metropolitan journals, of a bat- sincere, hollow as a popover. Secretly I was tle-ship that "weighed and slipped her an- not sorry that the big sail had been put out chor”—a feat as difficult of accomplishment of commission. The danger of an upset was as to eat your cake and have it. Now Nep- now reduced to a minimum. tune preserve me from such a paradox! But “Which is the jib?” Miss Wilkins asked it is easier to gibe at the blunders of others me. I pointed it out, and explained its than to be nautically correct oneself. unique function, which is to aid and abet . George gaily tossed the tin buoy overboard the mainsail. “And that funny little hind- and the Amateur Skipper took the wheel. sail—that must be the jigger,” she pursued. “Start the engine, Sweetheart,” he in- “I supposed a jigger was something used in structed. mixing cocktails. My brother has one.” “Yes, Lovest,” replied Mrs. Bilger, and I assured Miss Wilkins that her supposition disappeared below. and her brother were correct; but there are We were informed that it was necessary to jiggers and jiggers, not counting the insect use the gasoline auxiliary because the chan- that makes its lair beneath the human skin. nel was so narrow. One speaks of a jigger of gin: why not a The engine chugged responsive. The Amateur Skipper 515 LEDIG “Why, I don't believe we are moving," said Miss Wilkins, peering over the side. Nor were we. George had heaved over- board the buoy with the small rope attached, but the hawser was still catted. “You're a great sailor, George," Bilger observed in good-natured contempt. George laughed shamelessly. As a matter of fact, he was no sailor at all, but a landscape artist. Devoted to art for art's sake, he cared nothing for sailing for sailing's sake. He appreciated certain po- etical features of sailing, which are to be observed in the golden mean between a hurri- cane and a flat calm; but sailing per se inter- ested him no more than sawing wood, or washing dishes, or automobiling through a landscape at forty miles an hour. But George was amiable and long-suffering; he was one of those rare spirits that an ama teur skipper too infrequently happens on—a friend who will suppress a groan when asked if he would like to go a-sailing, and answer: “Why, yes, I'd be delighted.” The engine stopped abruptly, of its own accord, as commonly auxiliaries will; but we cleared the channel and began to bump the ground-swell bumps with our decks at an angle of forty-five degrees. “The jig and jibber do very well, don't they?" said Miss Wilkins, as we retreated to the main-hatch to keep our feet out of the wet. “What a lot of ropes. I suppose they all have names.” “How many ropes," spoke up the Skipper, who was enjoying a moment of leisure, “how many ropes do you suppose there are on the biggest sailing ship afloat?” I started the guessing match at a hundred. George doubled the number. Miss Wilkins was sure there must be at least a thousand. “Only four," said the Skipper: “the man- rope, the foot-rope, the bucket-rope, and, occasionally, the mast-rope. All the other hemp things are called halyards, sheets, braces, stays, guys, lines, tacks, clew-garnets, spanker-vangs, downhauls, and so on.” “There's wisdom while you wait!” said George, who was coiling about a quarter of a mile of main-sheet. M iss Wilkins turned to me: “How many hemp things do you know, Mr. Timby?” “Only one—the jib-downhaul,” I replied modestly. But I am strong on the jib-downhaul. You will observe me grasping it firmly as we approach a mooring. The man with the boat-hook is nervous; he is afraid he will miss the mooring, and he usually does. The skip- per's nerves are taut as fiddle-strings; he has no confidence in the man with the boat- hook. I alone am imperturbable.“ Jib-down- haul!” is my cue. Four or five yeo-ho yanks, and the jib is in the water, from which the THE CAULIFLOWER HIT THE DINGEY A GLANCING BLOW. 516 Everybody's Magazine skipper, cursing softly, later extricates it. a breathless nook in an angle of the cliff. It In all my sailing I do not think that I have was wholly pleasant. I could have stood it once missed putting the jib in the water. for several hours. And the artist soul of “George,” called the Amateur Skipper, George was steeped in content. “will you take one more pull on the jib- But the Amateur Skipper was restless. halyard?” George hastened forward. “Trim After one cup of tea and a bite at a bis- the jigger-sheet, Sweetheart.” Mrs. Bilger cuit, he was back on the yawl, puttering braced herself against the cockpit wall and about above and below, fussing with the hauled. hemp things, and squinting learnedly at the “Mrs. Bilger is a sweet little woman, isn't sky. she?” whispered Miss Wilkins, as we bal Bilger's fad possessed him utterly. He anced ourselves atop the furled mainsail, and could work a lunar observation, calculate an spread a raincoat over our knees. azimuth, find the arithmetical complement of “Sweet as they come," I agreed, and ob- a logarithm, build a sea-anchor, and tie all served that Mr. Bilger was a remarkable skip manner of recondite knots; and there was not per. For I know dilettante mariners, the a drop of salt water in his veins. Calmly most amiable of men ashore, whose natures ecstatic, he would talk sailing by the hour, or seem to undergo a sharp change the in- day, or week. Ask him what a “grommet” stant that they tread the decks of their obses- might be, and his eye would light up and roll sions. They become imperative; their tem- in a fine frenzy. Inquire politely as to the pers shorten to pie-crust brittleness; they meaning of the occult term “leech,” and you treat their wives shamefully. But Bilger, had leech and luff, head and foot, peak and beyond a certain nervous tension and a stac- throat, clew and tack, explained to you in cato manner of speaking, behaved very well; one breath. Bilger's heart was in his yawl; and Mrs. Bilger was the most obedient and his mind was concentered on his mainsail's uncomplaining of helpmeets. Some of the weather-edge; he thought in reaches; his soul tasks he laid upon her seemed beyond her was forever beating to windward. strength, for she was a frail little woman; “What does Mr. Bilger do in winter?” in- but if Bilger were to say, “Sweetheart, fetch quired Miss Wilkins, passing her cup. up the five-hundred-pound anchor," she “He talks of going south for a cruise," said would hasten below, and presently her cheer- Mrs. Bilger; “but I always discourage the ful voice would be heard: “Coming, Lovest, idea. Mr. Bilger needs to rest a few months. and it isn't a bit heavy." He gets so dreadfully thin in summer.” The outward run of the good yawl Cauli At this point tíe emaciated Bilger returned flower, with the wind abeam, consumed two to our tea-party to announce that it was high hours; and from the view-point of the Ama- time we were starting homeward; the wind teur Skipper it may have been a most excit- was dropping. We rose reluctantly. ing trip; he was as busy as a puppy chasing The wind was not only dropping, but it an autumn leaf, and he communicated his had hauled into the north; and we made lit- feverish activity to George and Mrs. Bilger. tle progress beating up with only the "jig and But from my limited view-point there was jibber," as Miss Wilkins persisted in calling only a slosh of sea-water. them, drawing. Bilger started in to repair Yachting is a pastime for the well-to-do; the torn mainsail; but the wind was run- but any one may have the pleasures of it and ning out like tide-water, and with sunset the still remain ashore. All you need do is don last zephyr expired. The Cauliflower lay as a yachting cap and sit on a soap box and idle as a painted ship upon a playhouse cur- have somebody throw water on your feet, tain. with now and then a pailful in your lap; that “You'll have to start the engine, George,” will do nicely for hard-weather sailing. For said the Skipper. “Careful of your hand, the other sort, you may sit on a wooden old man; she may reverse on you." bench in a hot sun and tie knots in a clothes. But nothing so exciting happened. “She" line. declined to start, though George toiled over When the Cauliflower rounded the lee of her like Sisyphus over his stone. From the Gooseberry Island, I for one was glad of the sulphurous haze that began to fog the hatch- chance to go ashore and stretch my legs. way I knew that George was breathing out Mrs. Bilger took along the afternoon-tea profanity with every futile revolution of the things, and we sipped the wine of Ceylon in fly-wheel. Dr. Bilger made a diagnosis, The Amateur Skipper 517 which revealed the fact that the engine was flooded. Precisely what this meant he ex- plained, with a wealth of technical detail. “Suppose,” I suggested to George, “that you and I row the dingey and tow the yawl." water in the cabin up to my knees. Now, that's too much like hard labor." “Well,” said I, pausing to wipe the steam from my spectacles, “this isn't exactly a Book of Verses underneath the Bough.” WE HEARD AN OMINOL'S SPLASH, “Good idea," the Skipper answered for At this moment the Amateur Skipper shot him. “You fellows go ahead, and I'll see into the field of our vision, coming out of the what I can do with the engine.” yawl's depths like jack-in-a-box. And it was so ordered. “Cast off!” he yelled. “This,” remarked George, after we had We were a few seconds late in grasping the pulled for half an hour with none too en- fact that the Skipper had succeeded in start- couraging results, “this is something like ing the engine, and the Cauliflower just towing a brick-yard." missed the dingey as she went by us. For- “At least,” said I, “we are getting some tunately, George had fastened the tow-line action. Not much plot or heart-interest with one of the fancy knots that Bilger had as yet, but you can't tell what may de- taught him, a knot that came loose at the velop." first yank. As it was, the line in snapping “I'm glad to get off the yawl, at least,” clear spun us sharply round. George confided in an undertone, for the The Cauliflower faded in the dusk. ladies were sitting forward, watching our “Now," said George, “if Bilger will only back-breaking labors. “Every time I go out keep going and let us row home in peace- with Bilger I swear it will be the last; but I “He's coming back," said I. never have the heart to refuse him-he's a “Can't stop the engine!” shouted the good soul. But he'll have to shanghai me Skipper, as he passed us; “afraid she after this." He dropped his oars to fire a won't start up again. But I'll pick you pipe. “The first cruise I took on the Cauli- up." flower,” he pursued reminiscently, “she was He began circling us, and in the fast-gath- bran-new, and she leaked like a landing-net. ering darkness the yawl loomed as big and I had to bail for three mortal hours, with the menacing as a battle-ship. 518 Everybody's Magazine “Can you swim, Timby?” asked George and munched tea-biscuits, while the indefat- resignedly. igable Bilger sweated over the inert mechan- "If I'm not crippled,” said I. ism of the auxiliary, prattling cheerfully the “Then we'd better go overboard now. while of batteries, spark-plugs, carbureters, We don't really need Bilger's assistance." and other foolish things. “Look out!” called the Skipper. “I'm Never have I known such exhaustless coming!” patience, such unfailing good-temper. He The instinct of self-preservation led me to worked over that lifeless engine as one would grasp the bobstay of the Cauliflower and over a drowned man. Now and then a spark swing clear of the dingey. I landed on the of life leaped up; he fanned it tirelessly, and deck in an ungraceful sprawl, breathless. we made, perhaps, another mile. In this “Isn't this exciting!” cried Miss Wilkins. snail-like fashion we crawled to port. Mrs. Bilger was kind enough to inquire “George,” said the Skipper, “would you whether I was hurt. mind picking up the mooring?”. “Now for George!” said the Skipper, “Delighted,” replied George morosely. spinning the wheel to port. “Don't miss it,” adjured Bilger, with the “Never mind me!” shouted the artist, first touch of anxiety in his voice I had ob- scarcely discernible in the gloom. “I'll row served that day. “The tide is out, and we home. It's only eleven miles.” might hit the mud.” “Nonsense!” returned the Skipper, circling George got down on the bobstay, and like a hawk. “Mind your eye, old man!” peered low for a sight of the tin buoy. ... “See here, Bilger," bawled the doomed We heard an ominous splash. and exasperated George; “I'm not a mar- “I'm afraid George has fallen overboard," ried man, but I have an aged mother de- said Mrs. Bilger. pendent on me for support. I tell you, I “How unfortunate!” said Miss Wilkins. don't want to be rescued. Keep off, or I'll It was inevitable. I understood that per- sue you for damages.” fectly; so did George. I leaned over the side The Cauliflower hit the dingey a glancing and caught his upflung hand. He still had the blow, and we had a glimpse of George cling- boat-hook, hooked in the ring of the mooring. ing to the upturned gunwale. Nothing of consequence was said. Words “Now you have done it!” he yelled after are symbols of ideas, but their emotional con- us witheringly. “The oars are gone." tent is limited. Music would have better “Keep cool, old man!” rejoined Bilger. served, but there was no pianola aboard the He drew another bead on the dingey. “Sweet Cauliflower. heart, take the wheel.” We bundled silently into the dingev. Hap- “Yes, Lovest,” said Mrs. Bilger tremu pily one oar remained, caught under a thwart; lously, and the Skipper went forward. and George, to keep warm, paddled us up He got George this time with a boat-hook. the river. If you have ever navigated a Then the inevitable happened: the engine, dingey containing five persons, you can guess that had been working like a demon, sud- within an hour or so, how long it takes to do denly quit. a mile with one oar, counting zigzags. The Oh, no; not a bit of fiction inserted for dra- clock in the steeple struck two when we made matic effect; not at all. If you believe, as I the landing. do, that a malign spirit inhabits the shells of “Thank you for a very interesting day," inanimate objects, you will understand that said Miss Wilkins to the Bilgers. I added nothing could be more natural than that the my conventional appreciation, engine should stop at that precise moment. “I wish,” said the Amateur Skipper ear- I pass over the next few hours. The plot nestly, “that you could get away for a cruise petered out, the action dwindled to an irre- of four or five days. George and I have a ducible minimum, and as my sentiments for trip all planned.” Miss Wilkins never could be more than those George and I walked homeward together. of a friend, there was a total lack of heart- “Where are you and Bilger going?” I in- interest. quired. George, disgruntled, sat on the heel of the “I don't know where Bilger is going," re- bowsprit and smoked pipe after pipe. Mrs. plied George slowly, “and I don't know as Bilger, Miss Wilkins, and I gathered in the I care a damn. But I'm going up in the cabin, where not a soul would care to sleep, Berkshires for the rest of the summer.” A Refuge in the Bronx By WALTER PRICHARD EATON Illustrations by J. A. Williams CENTLE READER East Side of Manhattan, J -may I address you it was the poorer classes as Gentle Reader, inviting that began to fill it up; you by the old-fashioned rank on close rank, their term to the contemplation squalid tenements ad- of an old-fashioned spot vanced with each year and the perusal of an old- farther into the peaceful fashioned tale? Thank estates of the old aristoc- you!-Gentle Reader, racy. The aristocracy fled, have you any notion of what or where the leaving the weeds to grow in their splendid Bronx may be? If you are a New Yorker, of drives, the Sunday rabble to roam over their course you know. But if you have the good acres of lawn and orchard. One by one fortune not to be a New Yorker, how shall the Georgian mansions fell to make way I explain to you? If you are from Boston, for streets of tenements. But a few lone I can make it almost clear: the Bronx is our champions stood out, proud as Custer 'mid Charlestown. But if you are from Chicago the circling Sioux; and one of them, farther or Denver, where I have never been, or from east than the rest across the muddy Bronx some comfortable little city or town that Creek, became a golf club house, the links doesn't even have suburbs, I don't know what skirting the marshes which at that point make to do. Think of the section or suburb of your up from the Sound. A curving driveway led city where you'd least like to live; multiply up to the mansion, between old cedars and its objectionable traits by twenty-five and maples and lindens, and from the broad divide the attractions by an equal number, veranda the eye swept out across the course, and mayhap you'll come somewhere near an dotted on a summer day with players and understanding of the Bronx. But even so, caddies, to the sparkling surface of the Sound. you will not have allowed for the dust and the And as long as the house stood and the course squalid uniformity of the flat-houses. You could be rented, the members refused to must have lived in New York City to realize desert their old club, coming out from New fully what it can do when it spawns, when it York by elevated or trolley, and later by the spills across the Harlem River and becomes subway which ran close by, to finish their the Bronx. matches with a Scotch and soda in the great Yet the Bronx was not always so. Long oak-paneled dining-room that still breathed ago, before ever it became annexed to Man- the perfume of a vanished aristocracy. hattan, it was a vast, rolling, wooded garden, And I was one of those members. dominated by great stone mansions in the But I will not linger over the memories of Georgian style or the Tudor, which crowned that club, which was famous in its day and the knolls and looked from their long, slim boasted the finest turf in the metropolitan windows out across the blue Sound to Long district. It is no more. If you should seek Island. There were pretty villages with to find it now, you would discover only pretty names—Westchester Village, Van Nest, tenements on the tees. I wonder if our West Farms, Casanova-odd name for a re- champion's ghost does not wander over the spectable abiding place. But the city grew old course by night, and startle some Italian and needed room, so the trolleys and the baby's slumbers with his unearthly cry of elevated road crossed the river into the “Fore!" which even in the flesh was sufficient- aristocratic country, and as it lay north of the ly terrifying. No, my story is not of golf, but 519 A Refuge in the Bronx ! 521 that all the life one were being filled up, lives is so different and when she spoke from this yielding to again there was an the primitive sensa- intimacy in her tone. tions. One is always But her words were under some sort of re- commonplace enough. straint in church and “Do you see those in society and at home. poplars in a row be- Nobody ever does hind the club house? yield to primitive sen- What are they doing sations. Now, I like” there?” -she hesitated a bit, “There's just one colored, but went on- way to find out,” said “I like to feel the hot I, helping her to her sun on the middle of feet. my back better than We followed a path anything in the world, around the servants' but somehow I feel it's wing of the mansion, wrong! I'm blushing passed to the right of while I tell you this, the stable, and came you see. You'll think upon a hedge of it silly of me, but I shrubbery in fragrant can't help it.” bloom. Within this “Indeed, I'll not shrubbery we could think it silly," I an- see a high board fence, swered. “Anybody gray and green with who is sensitive alike age, and over its top to sense impressions TAVIT here and there a rose and to what we might peeping or a tender call moral impressions green shoot of grape- if they weren't really vine. The poplars merely social, knows were on the other side. exactly your dilemma. We walked on till a I know it very well; I break appeared, dis- was reared in New closing a little door in England. But did it the fence. There was ever occur to you that a rusty padlock over the sense impressions the latch, but a strong came first in the his- yank pulled the staple ROLLING WHITE CUFFS OVER HER PRETTY tory of the race, and out of the rotting wood perhaps have quite as and the gate creaked good a right to be attended to as the others? open on its rusty hinges. We stepped swiftly Did it ever occur to you that we don't have through and closed the gate behind us. Then to be lopsided to be good?” we stopped still in sudden amazement. “It's occurred to me, yes, but it would For we had slipped into another generation, never occur to my old-fashionedly ecclesi- another order of life, and with the closing of astical family," she answered. “I've got, I that gate we had shut out the world! We fear, their point of view in my blood.” were alone in a square enclosure, perhaps half “The man who wrote "The Song of an acre in extent, which was so shut in by Solomon' wasn't lopsided,” said I. "I'd fence and hedge and poplars that not a sight comfort you with apples if this tree were as it nor even, it seemed, a sound of the outer will be in the fall.” world penetrated to its utter quietness. It She looked at me slantwise, with a sudden once had been an old-fashioned garden, and self-revelation in her eyes, an instant unveiling somebody-a ghost, perhaps-still raised a that subtly said something intimate, though it few vegetables in the rich soil near the center had no words. In the silence that followed where the paths converged into a depression. it seemed as if a long gap in our acquaintance These paths now were choked with weeds ELBOWS. 522 Everybody's Magazine between the ruins of box hedges. Bright across the abandoned flower beds, shadows poppies flared up carelessly here and there, that finally took on a tint of lavender, re- side by side with milkweed and wild mustard. minding us that in the world outside Time did The heavy scent of syringa was on the air; not stand still. So we slipped once more, and over the surrounding fence, shedding with a farewell, lingering look, through the their perfume prodigally and half hiding the little door in the fence, drove back the staple delicate gray of the boards, roses were every with a stone, and sneaked into the club house where clambering untrained, almost as wild by a rear entrance. Walking down the drive as their cousins of the country roadside. In in our street clothes, we met a group of mem- one corner stood a small abandoned green- bers coming in from the course, who inquired house. Half the glass panes were broken, and where we had been all the afternoon. “In through the ragged holes grape-vines had the day before yesterday,” we answered, pushed long, leafy tendrils, that trailed over laughing, and hastened on. As we entered the roof, in some places keeping it from fall- the subway train she took one contemptuous ing in. The row of poplars just inside the sniff and groaned. “The Pagan play is fence on the southern side had been long un- over,” she said. “This is reality!”. trimmed, and was shaggy with little shoots But when I left her at her door in town I like beards almost to the ground. The air said, “There will be another matinée next was so still that the faint rustle and shiver of Tuesday.” their polished leaves was the only sound or She was half-way in the door before she motion, save for a single robin that hopped answered, with a backward glance, “Not till across a bed of lettuce heads, pulled up a then?” worm, and flew to his nest near the fence, “Make it to-morrow!” I cried-but the whence we heard the ripple of his call. door was closed. For a long moment we stood in a hush as And it was not until the next Tuesday, deep as the great peace of this forgotten Gentle Reader, and not more frequently after garden. Then slowly we turned toward each that, for she was a psychologist and knew that other, and as our eyes met her bosom drew a sensation, a mood, frequently repeated, up and her lids half closed and she expelled loses its tingle, its charm, its emotional con- her breath with a sigh that told more than tent. And she did not want to lose the words can ever do, for when we are possessed emotional effect of that forgotten garden, for by a strong emotion it is always our bodies it was to her a refuge from all the tyrannies that must speak. And at the same time she and uglinesses and the dust and noise of daily instinctively put out her hand to mine. The life. For me it was a refuge, too; but with peace, the warm, sun-drenched, sense-sub- true masculine intemperance and unrestraint duing silence that was in our hearts passed I would have sought it all the time, since it through our clasped fingers like a thrill. gave me her in her pagan mood when she Words would have been a profanation. But seemed to draw closer to me in some in- from the touch of her fingers there rose in tangible way, as if with the closing of that me a stirring of personal affection-and I little door she opened a door in the bodiless would have prolonged the clasp; but she fence that every fine woman builds about her withdrew her hand gently and we rambled, personality, and her soul came forth to play. still in silence, out through the weed-choked Often on the fifth tee I would pause to con- paths. template our line of poplars visible from that She gathered a poppy presently to put in point, standing tall and straight against the her hair. “Am I not in a flowered gown," sky. But she would shake her head and say: she said, “with old-fashioned slippers on my “Quitter, you are one down.” Or, if I were feet? Am I not a ghost?”. one up: “Quitter, you're afraid you can't hold “You have old-fashioned slippers on your your lead.” Either way, she had me. But feet,” I answered, looking at her stout, hob sometimes she would look toward the pop- nailed shoes. “But you are not a ghost," I lars, too, and say, "Perhaps, after the ninth added, looking into her eyes. hole. . ..” And then she was always up She flushed a little and moved on. So we when the ninth hole was reached! loitered, speaking but seldom and then in So the summer waxed, and the staple grew hushed voices, while the robins sang and the loose in the gate-post till a touch would re- poplars whispered about us each to each and move it. The roses faded and fell, the weeds the westering sun sent lengthened shadows out grew higher and thicker, the forlorn remnants John Avilliony THE PEACE THAT WAS IN OUR HEARTS PASSED THROUGH OUR CLASPED FINGERS LIKE A THRILL. 523 524 Everybody's Magazine of box were quite -hidden. Little green thing, except this forgotten garden and the bunches of grapes began to form under the ache of peace.” hothouse roof. Only the tall poplars did not .. "The ache of peace!” she whispered back. change, nor the silence and the peace and the “To have beauty till it hurts! To drink sense that we had shut the world out when we moonlight and silence till one is drunk! To closed that door. One evening in town I die in such a dream!” And her fingers found her tired, hot, nervous, despondent- tightened, perhaps unconsciously, on mine. life had got in under her guard and stabbed Then suddenly I lifted the little hand to deep. For the first time her spirit seemed my lips and kissed it. Her eyes closed as I frail to me, all feminine, like her sweet little did so, then they opened and looked hard into body. I felt toward her a sudden surge of mine. Her fingers renewed their pressure, protecting pity. There was no talk that night like a sob of joy-and my hand was empty. of art and books, no debates on the subjects But her elbow leaned hard to mine as we that lay nearest to us—for our occupations moved like warm ghosts amid the pale were along similar lines, lines that some folk poppies and milkweeds, and all the way fancy are not work at all because they are not home we were very silent, curiously like a followed at stated hours on the “working- bashful girl and boy who do not know how days” of the year! And there was no ques- to manage a conversation. tioning on my part as to her desires. I led Then she went away to the seaside some- her forth peremptorily, and she came as if where and the town grew intolerably hot and she were glad to be rid of all initiative. It dirty and ugly and lonely, and I went away was stifling in the subway, but once at the too, finding what comfort I could in the fat, course a breath of air came off the Sound to bright letters she wrote, though she never fan us, and under the dark trees of the drive dared be quite a pagan with a pen in her the earth seemed damp and cool. The moon- hand. I had to return some weeks before light fell full on our little door in the fence, so her, and found that the inevitable, the long- that it shone white amid the black shadows dreaded, had at last happened: our course of the hedge on either side. It was some had been sold to a “Bronx Improvement mysterious gateway to a dream, some portal Association”-ironic name!-and on the fifth to an Arabian Night's adventure. We looked day of September we should play our last back at the great, silent mansion that stood sweepstake. I wrote her nothing about it, dark and grim and proud amid its trees but carried her togs home with mine that sad and lawns, like an olden castle. “Or is evening when we all sat in the great oak it some gate," I whispered as we turned dining-room of the club-house mansion till a once more, “that ope'd for Madeline and late hour, mournfully narrating tales of the Porphyro?” past. Three weeks later she returned to She drew closer to me. “And they are town, and still without telling her I took her gone; aye, ages long ago ...” she barely north by the familiar route. breathed. She suspected, of course, what was coming, I pulled the staple and we slipped through and asked question after question which I and closed the door hastily behind us as if dodged as well as I could. As a matter of against pursuit. “... These lovers fled fact, I did not myself know what changes away into their secret garden,” I finished for had been made since we had vacated the club. her, and the shade of Keats forgave my mis- But we saw the first change from afar. The quotation. The garden was soaked with links still spread their green velvet along the moonlight and silent with an aching peace. marshes, but the magnificent trees that had The gaudy poppies were pale, almost color- lined the drive to the club house were down; less, and only a tiny flash of light now and then they were not only down, they were split and from a poplar leaf that shivered up against the stacked into cords! She uttered a little cry moon broke the hush of suspended life and of pain when she realized what had happened, motion. My hand sought hers and found and hastened toward the house over the chip- and held it, and the dream spell worked strewn path. Sounds of pounding came out around us till presently her face looked up to to us, and even as we passed under the porte- mine with a question in the eyes, and I cochère there was a crash overhead and we answered smiling, in a whisper, “No, there knew that a chimney had fallen. The work of has been no to-day, and there will be no to demolition had begun. She uttered another morrow. It's all a myth-New York, every little moan of pain and hastened round the IT WAS SOME MYSTERIOUS GATEWAY TO A DREAM. wing. The garden was no more! The fence material power of New York. And now this was down, the hedges chopped away, the power was crushing her in her most tender feel- poplars vanished, and where the poppies and ings. No speech was possible but an oath; so the silence had been were piles of steel girders I spread out my hands in impotent silence. and brick and lumber. We fled the scene. Cutting across lots to “Oh, Boy," she cried, “why did you let the nearest point of the course, we almost them do it! Why did you let them do it!” ran over the heavy turf—that in three brief I spread out my hands impotently; it was weeks of inattention had become long and all I could do. Not even in passing through hubbly, a parody of its former perfection to the cañon slit of Broad Street when the curb the seventh tee, which was almost a mile market was in full cry have I ever felt such away toward the Sound, out of sight of the a futile atom opposing myself to the titanic house, where big ledges of rock crop up from 525 526 Everybody's Magazine the marsh, forming perilous natural hazards. Behind one of these ledges we crept, and kindled a little fire against the stone to cheer us up. There was a touch of autumn in the air. The wind soughed in the scrub oaks overhead, and the tall marsh grass that stretched out from our feet to the Sound was bent eastward, as if fleeing in a host from the wave-crest of the invading town, frozen in brick and stone all along the western sky. We too turned our backs instinctively to the west, and looked into the red heart of the little blaze without speaking. Our shoulders leaned together, and presently I found her hand in mine, and looking up I saw her lashes wet. “Dearest,” I said, “there are other gardens somewhere in the world, and we will seek till we have found one, you and I-together.” She lifted our two hands to her eves and I felt moisture on my knuckle. Then a little smile crept over her mouth. “It isn't so much the lost garden-any more," she said. “It's because I'm so glad to be back with you, Mr. Adam." Out in the gathering twilight the shadowy host of the marsh grass was still fleeing east- ward when we spoke at last of going. She leaned hard on my arm as we loitered back over the thrice familiar course, stopping affectionately at each once execrated bunker, and even searching a few moments in the dusk for a remembered lost ball. As we crossed the first tee, the club house came into view again through the dusk. The roof had gone since early afternoon. The old house stood a desolate ruin against the cold sky. And down behind it was our garden, a pile of bricks and lumber! We stood still for a moment, looking up. “Yet it hasn't been such a sad afternoon," I said almost gaily. “We had our little fire and ..." Her arm tightened on mine as I broke off speaking. “It hasn't been sad at all, dear boy," she whispered. "No," I answered, “the old garden has done its work; it has given me you. That is what it was designed and planted for. May all old gardens do as much!” I felt a cheek brush against my shoulder and a final pressure on my arm. Then we stepped out upon the sidewalk and moved briskly toward the train. The Roads By ALICE COREY Co many, many roads lie traced D. Where wanderers may strav- Roads twining, weaving, interlaced, Roads sorrowful and gay. Running through countryside and town They climb the mountain steep, Through storied realms of far renown l'nceasingly they creep. When silver moonlight floods the nights- O hark! across the sea These roads, the wanderer's delights, Are calling you and me, Singing their challenge sweet and clear, For wanderers to roam; But, all at once, I only hear The road that leads me home. The Business Side of Vaudeville By HARTLEY DAVIS V AUDEVILLE performers are a class of Langtry, $2,500. Vesta Victoria, who first V highly paid specialists. They receive came to this country for $400 a week, and from one dollar to ten dollars a minute for Vesta Tilly, another English performer, both the time they are on the stage. command $2,500. This explains why so many prominent, Please bear in mind that these extrava- highly successful stars are persuaded to take gantly paid stars present but one of the eight a flier in vaudeville. We no longer gasp at or nine "turns” that make up a performance, the announcement that a famous player is to and that the lesser lights are also highly paid become a variety actor—for, after all, vaude specialists. Indeed, of all people who work ville is merely a modern name for the variety for their living, vaudeville performers are the performance. best paid. Of three-fourths, yes, seven- With casual unconcern a vaudeville man- eighths of the traveling theatrical com- ager will remark that he can get any star in panies, the whole salary list does not amount the theatrical firmament to do a “turn "; that to $2,500 a week, and yet in vaudeville that is, any one he happens to want. It is simply much is paid to one performer who gives an a question of how much he is willing to pay. eighth of the performance. It is true that a There are a few, as many as can be counted $2,500-a-week performer doesn't appear often on one hand, who could not be tempted. The in any one theatre, but an act that costs vaudeville manager would remark in his airy, $1,000 a week has become the rule rather cheerful way that he doesn't want those than the exception in every bill, while a great When one considers the salaries that are paid, majority of the acts cost from $250 to $500, this willingness of the stars isn't so remark and in the best vaudeville houses no act costs able. less than $75 a week. “ Chasers,” employed to If May Irwin, who is about to return to drive audiences out of houses giving continu vaudeville after many years' absence, chooses ous performances, get that much. In the good to work as many weeks in the year as Mr. vaudeville houses, the salary list of performers Corey is supposed to work, she will receive ranges from $2,500 to $4,000 a week, and a salary more than double that of the presi- the maximum is paid more often than the dent of the Steel Trust. If she elects to work. minimum. Occasionally the cost will run to only twenty weeks in the year, her salary will $5,000 a week. The standard in practically equal that of the President of the United every first-class vaudeville house in the coun- States. Her salary for two weeks equals that try is $3,200 a week, and each manager tries paid a congressman for a whole year. In to keep as close to that as possible. It has other words, Miss Irwin will receive $2,500 been found that this will provide an attractive a week for appearing on the stage for twenty bill and yet leave a fair margin of profit. minutes twice a day. Now, by way of contrast, consider that the When Lillian Russell appeared in vaude- prices charged in these vaudeville theatres ville, she was paid $3,150 a week, which is, I are just one-half, or oftener one-third, the believe, the largest salary ever given to a per- prices of admission charged in the theatres former. Elsie Janis got $3,000, and Mrs. presenting first-class attractions. In New 527 528 Everybody's Magazine York, for instance, the highest price for or- chestra seats is one dollar, with box seats fifty cents more, and the downward range is to twenty-five cents. And this is the schedule of only a few houses. The usual rule for first-class vaudeville houses is fifty cents for the best seats, except those in boxes, which are twenty-five and fifty cents more. Often the gallery seats are only ten cents, and when two performances a day are given, it is the universal custom to cut in half the higher prices for matinées. But what about the profits of the vaude- ville managers who charge these low prices and pay these high salaries? Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre in New York made a net profit last year of $250,000, and the Orpheum in Brooklyn, and Keith's theatre in Phila- delphia have made more than $200,000 net in a year. Men who have handled the busi- ness end of vaudeville for many years soberly say that the vaudeville theatres in this coun- try made $30,000,000 last year. That is mani- festly absurd, because there are only about 350 houses that have a recognized standing, and they cannot average $85,000 in profits each year. But the total is so big that, if you are seeking explanation for the war that is now disorganizing vaudeville, you need look no farther than these profits. The men who have practical control of the theatres that play the high-priced attractions, realizing how enormous is the revenue derived from vaudeville, and how certain it is, have set about getting control of that also. Naturally, those who control it at present wish to keep their profits. And each side has millions to spend in the struggle. Conditions are changing so rapidly that it is useless to predict what the situation will be a week in advance. The possession of theatres appears to be the key. There is no such thing as cornering the market in per- formers; they are developing too rapidly The “amateur” nights, the cheaper vaudeville theatres—often nothing but halls or stores, the places especially popular in the West, where the admission is from five to twenty- five cents and four to six performances a day are given-are bringing forth new performers all the time. And even the best of the theatres are willing to give applicants a "try- out” in the morning, and, if the act is promis- ing, a trial at a regular performance. The foreign field is open to any manager who thinks he can guess correctly. The best acrobatic acts are not available in America, because children who are under the legal age are important factors in the turn. With a few exceptions, like Chevalier, Vesta Tilly, and one or two others, the big English music- hall performers have not been successful in this country, the big hits having been made by importations who are considered second- and third-rate performers at home. In vaudeville, the agency where performers are booked—that is, have engagements made for them-is not nearly as powerful as in the dramatic field. Formerly there were many of these agencies. Now practically all the book- ing is done in two offices in New York, these being closely affiliated with Western circuits that work in conjunction with them. It is a common thing to book a vaudeville act for eighty weeks—two theatrical years—and fix the exact dates. This centralized booking system has many advantages to the performer, the chief of which are the long engagements and the short railroad jumps. Except on the Orpheum circuit, where two weeks are lost in traveling and where transportation is paid by the management, the vaudeville perform- ers pay all their own expenses. They are thrifty folk, as a rule, and it pains them to. pay railroad fares, especially big fares. Apart from the cost of the performers, the actual running expenses of a vaudeville the- atre are greater than those of the high-priced houses. The rent charge is, of course, an im- portant item. If a vaudeville manager wishes to acquire a successful combination house*— that is, one that makes money playing legiti- mate traveling attractions-he must pay a very high rent, which becomes exorbitant when the cost of repairs is added. If the vaudeville manager takes a house that is not successful and makes it highly profitable, the owner reaps an enormous advantage without effort on his part, and usually shows his ap- preciation by demanding a largely increased rental when the time comes to renew the lease. Nowadays, most of the houses are owned by those operating them, because the system makes such a theatre one of the best possible investments. But whether the vaude- ville theatres are owned or leased, the rent charge must be considered. There is a wide range, from $10,000 or $12,000 to $20,000 * A combination house is one that plays a different company each week or twice a week. It is the general descriptive term for practically all theatres playing traveling attractions, no matter what the grade, to distinguish such theatres from those that have stock companies and those where plays have long runs. A theatre is like a hotel. li it is established thoroughly and does a big business, it can rent for more than one that is a failure. The Business Side of Vaudeville 529 in the smaller cities, up to $60,000 in New a good vaudeville house, and the salary list York. is between $1,500 and $1,600 a week. In The repair bill is enormous, and the lessee Keith's theatre in Boston the house staff has to pay it. It is good business to keep the numbers 139 persons. In the Majestic in theatres in the best possible condition, and Chicago there are upward of a hundred, ten the wear and tear resulting from two per- of whom are maids for the care of women formances a day necessitate constant re- patrons. Vaudeville managers never at- newals everywhere. Frequently the cost of tempt to economize on the comfort of wom- repairs exceeds the rent. In the larger cities, en and children who come to the theatre. the average is not far from $25,000 a year. In the New York theatres the “house Next to the salaries of performers, the lar- charges," as they are called, are usually esti- gest expense of a vaudeville theatre is the paymated at $2,500 a week; this is supposed to of employees, which also amounts to more than cover everything except the repairs and the in the high-priced houses. The number em- salaries paid to performers. As a matter of THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC Photograph by White, New York. JESSE L. LASKY'S "PIANOPHIENDS."-AN EXPENSIVELY DRESSED ACT. ployed is astonishing, and includes resident fact, in the best of the theatres these charges manager, press-agent, two treasurers, door- probably exceed that estimate. keepers, ushers, carriage-man, coat-room With the prices of acts ranging from $75 attendants, maids, water-boys, orchestra, to $3,000 a week and with something like stage-manager, electricians, property-men, 7,000 performers to choose from, there is scene-shifters, clearers—the union rule will naturally wide latitude in the making up of not permit a scene-shifter to touch anything a "bill," as the selection of acts for a particu- but scenery, and the clearers may handle only lar week is called. The pumber of “turns” properties—the engineering staff, and clean- or acts is always eight or nine, exclusive of ers. About sixty is the minimum number in the moving pictures, and the average act 530 ne Everybody's Magazine lasts twenty minutes. New York, and by far Occasionally an excep- the larger number of tionally clever playlet attractions are well may run forty minutes. content to make From the figures $5,000 a week on the here presented it is road. This usually plain that from $250,- means a comfortable ooo to $300,000 a year profit for the theatre is required to run a and the company. But high - class vaudeville vaudeville houses, theatre in the larger charging far lower cities, exclusive of New prices, have to take in York, and $350,000 a that much money to year in the metropolis. pay expenses. The difference is chief- Granted that the ly in the rent and ad- vaudeville managers vertising rates, al- are at a disadvantage though the higher in the matter of high wages paid the house expenses and low prices staff also count. In of admission, there are New York, then, a many compensations, vaudeville theatre must chief of which is the take in $7,000, and, comparative absence of outside of New York, risk. Of all branches an average of $5,000 a of amusements, an es- week before there are tablished vaudeville any profits. theatre is the most Those who come in stable. It is more of contact with the the- a business and less of a atrical game hear gamble than any other much about the enor- kind of show, except mous receipts of differ- certain stock com- ent attractions. It is HOUDINI, THE "HANDCUFF KING." panies in Brooklyn, true that “The Lion where enough seats to and the Mouse" averaged $10,000 a week for' insure a profit for a whole season are sub- a straight year at the Lyceum in New York; scribed in advance. that David Warfield played to something like Vaudeville makes a wider appeal than any $25,000 a week at the spacious Academy of other form of stage entertainment, and this Music, which was built for grand opera; but is the fundamental reason for its success. Yet these are the rare exceptions. An average the fact was not recognized until within a business of $7,000 a week is very good in dozen years or so. Formerly, variety theatres Photography Hall, Aci Bork. C. B. BARNOLD'S DOG AND MONKEY PANTOMIME. Photograph by the Matzene Studio, Chicago. PAPINTA, MIRROR DANCER. 531 Photograph by kiyiwaru Straio, St. Louis. TOBY CLAL'DE. gave performances that were supposed to be ness of the performance rather than because for men, and with a few exceptions, like of it. He set about proving this, and so Tony Pastor's in New York, the Howard revolutionized the whole business. Vaude- Athenæum in Boston, and the Olympic in ville is now dependent upon women and Chicago, which were respectable, they were children, and the managers think more about mostly disreputable resorts, especially in the pleasing them than the men. smaller towns. The fact that the few really good variety houses did an enormous busi The only systematic censorship of stage ness had no significance for other managers, performances in this country is in the vaude- who slavishly followed the custom of per- ville houses. Whereas managers of companies mitting vulgarity and indecency to dominate playing in first-class houses frequently depend their stages. At length B. F. Keith, a New upon indecency to attract audiences, vaude- Englander who had worked with a circus ville managers have made it impossible on for years and had begun with a small "hall their stages. The latter have established stand- show” in Boston, made the discovery that ards that the performers have accepted and variety theatres prospered despite the coarse- that they are as keen to maintain as the man- 532 The Business Side of l'audeville 533 agers themselves. There may be a question sizes. And by the way, these shows are now as to taste; indeed, refined souls are often being opened in towns of 40,000 to 50,000 painfully shocked at vaudeville performances, people, whereas formerly it was supposed but the shows are always clean, according that no city of less than 200,000 population to the standards of the vaudeville manager. could support a good vaudeville theatre. They may not be your standards nor mine, Even in New York, it was four years before but evidently they are accepted by the mil- the Victoria Theatre, transformed by Oscar lions that support this form of show. Hammerstein into a vaudeville house, really When I said that vaudeville makes a very paid. But now the returns yield a profit of a wide appeal, I did not mean that everywhere quarter of a million a year, which enables the people are eager and anxious to go to per- versatile manager to face a loss in his in- formances of this kind. Time and time dividual grand-opera venture with equa- again it has been proved that communities nimity. . unfamiliar with the modern variety show Nothing more clearly illustrates the differ- evince small interest in it. For one thing, ence between the old-time manager and his there has been the prejudice that is the logical successor than this ability and willingness to result of the days when the name variety show make a large investment and face a loss for was a synonym for disrepute. And this has four years. There is a familiar story that been difficult to overcome. People didn't illustrates the spirit of the older days. An know that they want- actor approached his ed vaudeville; the manager with a re- taste for it was dor- quest for a loan of mant, not active. The twenty-five dollars. managers found that, “Twenty-five!” in nearly every in- repeated the man- stance, a systematic ager. “Twenty-five campaign of educa- dollars?" tion was necessary. “Yes," said the It takes about four actor, “I want you to years to make a new lend me twenty-five vaudeville theatre dollars. Youcan take pay. Now and then it out of my salary.” there is an exception, “Twenty-five dol- like Minneapolis, lars,” reiterated the where the new Or- manager. “Say, pheum, costing don't you know that $350,000, paid from if I had twenty-five the very start. But dollars I'd put out a the immediate suc- No. 2 company?" cess of the Minne- Perhaps the Or- apolis theatre is ex- pheum circuit, which plained by the fact owns ten theatres that a large part of west and south of the city's population Chicago and is close- was continually visit- ly affiliated with ing Chicago, where a twenty-five more, of- taste for the varied ers the best example form of entertain- of the modern busi- ment had already ness organization of been developed. vaudeville. The Or- These sophisticated pheum Company is ones then acted as so a close corporation, many press-agents. with a capital stock Such exceptions, of $75,000 and some- however, are very thing like $5,000,000 few, and the rule ap Photograph by Hall's Studio, Notu York. of assets. It has built plies to cities of all NAT M WILLS. nearly all its theatres, DONT GIVE A WHOOP FANYBODY TMENT ROOF | THE WYOMING WHOOP PUATOR, DUTCA THE WYOMING IS THE CHAMPION OF THE PEOPLE AT THE EO TORINO CHECK: UNLESS YOU USHED OTOONS S HOME WITHOUT NEWS PAPER TAIR STI RE CRESSY AND DAYNE IN “THE WYOMING WHOOP," A SUCCESSFUL ONE-ACT PLAYLET. which cost from $250,000 to $350,000 each. last, and it is a part of that business to have Its prices range from seventy-five cents for a thorough knowledge of the show game. box seats to ten cents in the gallery. The His eyes are cast far ahead. He doesn't orchestra seats sell for fifty cents at night and think about what the business will be next twenty-five cents for the mati- week or next month, but what née. The ten cents admis- it will be two years from now. sion to the gallery is designed He knows that his theatres chiefly to attract children, be- cannot succeed unless they cause it has been found that play to full houses, because they go home and tell their of the small price of admis- parents about the excellent sion. Therefore he must show, thereby increasing the make the theatres themselves attendance at subsequent per- as attractive as possible, pro- formances. The booking is viding generously for the done from the Chicago office, women and children, and also and the closest tab is kept must give them the best show on all the acts, so that it is he can arrange. known exactly which ones When a manager books an please most. Contracts for act that costs $2,500 or more scenery, decoration, carpets, a week, he generally expects all the supplies, and the re- to lose money on that par- pairs, are made in the Chicago ticular week, though in this office for the ten theatres, and New York may prove an ex- the cost is thus much reduced. ception, on account of the The Orpheum circuit pays higher prices of admission. the railroad fares of perform- These expensive acts, by ers and it has a high-priced “two - dollar stars," as the railroad expert to look after vaudeville manager calls those the transportation. who have headed companies “I am a business man, and that have always played in my business is to amuse peo- the high-priced houses, are ple," explained Martin Beck, put on chiefly for advertising the general manager of the purposes. Now, one might Orpheum Company, and that suppose that with one act get- Photograph by l'hite, Nece l'ork. ting perhaps $3,000 a week, him it is business first and MARY ANN BROWN. the manager would cut down 534 The Business Side of Vaudeville 535 the cost of the other acts to the smallest possible sum, and depend upon the people attracted by the big star to make a profit on the week. But, on the contrary, when one prone to look down upon a variety perform- ance. They are lured in by the chance of seeing a star at a cost of fifty cents instead of two dollars. Once there, they are surprised Photograph by Il'hite, New York. MEREDITH MEREDRO, OF "THE STUNNING GRENADIERS." of these extravagantly expensive acts heads a bill, the astute manager is extraordinarily careful to engage the best performers he can secure to round out the bill, regardless of cost. For the star is pretty certain to draw a large number of people who have never before been in the vaudeville theatre and who are to find that the other acts are as entertaining, as interesting as the star's; indeed, it is the exception rather than the rule for a two- dollar star to “make good” unless he has had a vaudeville training. But the failure of a big star with a great reputation in an at- tempt at vaudeville helps rather than hurts 536 Everybody's Magazine the house, for those hazard, made their first whom he has drawn success in vaudeville, generally leave the the- and these are but a few atre with vastly in- of a long roll. creased respect for The rapidity with straight vaudeville. which salaries jump af- One of the few ex- ter a success is scored ceptions to the rule is remarkable. When that two - dollar stars Sam Bernard was a fail, is May Irwin. monologist, better Her first big hit was known on the Bowery made in vaudeville be- than on Broadway, he fore she went into musi- received about $200. cal comedy. She knows His success with Weber the game. She has an & Fields trebled this enormous following salary. Then he went that will flock to the into musical comedy as theatre to see her in a star for a salary of vaudeville; she can de- $1,000 a week. Now light audiences to their he is willing to return capacity for enjoyment. to vaudeville for $3,500 The most popular a week. He can get acts are those that $2,500. make people laugh, Within the last dozen whether they be mono- years or so, Houdini, logues, sketches, or bur- ihe “handcuff king,” lesque acrobatic stunts, was appearing in a and to make vaudeville dime museum in New audiences roar, it is nec- York and was glad to essary to make a very get $50 or $60 a week. simple, very direct ap- The good vaudeville peal. Effects must be houses would not give secured quickly and him a chance, despite must follow each other the fact that he pre- in rapid succession. sented one of the most There are standard remarkable acts on the teams like Mr. and stage. Houdini went Mrs. “Jimmy” Barry, abroad and made his Will Cressy and name known the world Photograph by Il'ilson's Studio, Pueblo, Col. Blanche Dayne, and a ARNOLDO, THE ANIMAL TRAINER. over. Now he gets score of others that are $1,500 a week, and his absolutely fixed in the affections of vaude- engagements are made two years ahead. ville audiences because they can make fun. Vesta Victoria, who occupied about a third- McIntyre and Heath did “The Georgia Min- rate position in the London music halls, came strels” in variety and vaudeville for thirty to New York two seasons ago at a salary of years and they are now doing the same act $400 a week, which she thought enormous. with a few others in musical comedy. Her skill in singing one song, “Waiting at the It is rather curious that the stars who were Church,” gave her a tremendous vogue, and graduated from the variety theatres years her salary jumped to $2,500 a week. Alice ago have been more successful than the Lloyd, a dainty little English girl, was glad later ones who have tried to break into to come to New York for $350. She made a the legitimate from vaudeville. Tony Pastor very great success and now her American has a list of some forty famous people, like salary is $1,500 a week. She was content N. C. Goodwin, Lillian Russell, and May with about $150 a week in London. Irwin, who practically started in his theatre. Henry Lee, for years recognized as a par- Weber & Fields, the Rogers Brothers, Sam ticularly fine actor in legitimate rôles, entered Bernard, Elsie Janis, to give names at hap vaudeville with a specialty that he called The Business Side of Vaudeville 537 “Great Men Past and Present.” His skill in these imitations made him one of the most popular "head-liners," as the aristocrats of vaudeville are called, and now he gets $800 a week. Nat Wills, who presents a tramp specialty that is howlingly funny and who is classed as a monologist, gets $750 a week for making people laugh, and the fact that he made an unsuccessful attempt to star in musical comedy hurt him not at all. Early in the summer a young girl who had been in the chorus of musical shows for a couple of years without attracting any atten- tion, decided that she could give imitations of the kind that made Cissie Loftus and Elsie Janis famous. For weeks she besieged managers for a chance, at any salary at all. Finally, William Hammerstein, being short an act for a Sunday afternoon concert, gave her an opportunity. Within a week Belle Blanch as she calls herself, was booked for a whole year at $500 a week. Clara Wieland, a serpentine dancer, was widely known in vaudeville a dozen years ago. The serpentine dance ceased to be a novelty, and managers refused to book it. Miss Wie- land was clever. She saw that imitations were exceedingly popular, so she practised them, and when she thought she was pro- ficient she changed her name to Mary Ann Brown. The name caught the fancy of the managers as much as the act, and now Mary Ann Brown is a “head-liner" with all the engagements she cares to fill. An animal performance always pleases; and occasionally one like Barnold's Dog and Monkey Pantomime scores a big hit. In this act not a human being appears on the stage. Dogs and monkeys only are seen; and a yellow “mutt” that plays a drunken man is a real actor. This act was engaged for the Victoria roof garden in New York at $300 a week. It made such a success that it was booked for two years at $1,000 a week. The newest development in vaudeville is the presentation of eiaborate ensemble acts with fine scenery and costumes. These have been so successful that there are regular pro- ducers of them, like Ned Wayburn, George Homans, and Lasky, Rolfe & Company. For “The Stunning Grenadiers," Lasky, Rolfe & Company imported a bevy of strap- ping English girls, provided them with three changes of costume and three sets of scenery, as well as lighting effects. At least $5,000 was invested in this single act, which runs the usual twenty minutes. “The Pianophiends” cost nearly as much, for the young men and women who play six pianos in concert wear fashionable and expensive clothes and the scenery is as fine as can be painted. George Homans imported Italian opera singers for his Zingari troupe, and the stage setting, with its elaborate lighting effects, is as artistic as that seen in high-priced regular theatres. It takes twelve people to present “A Night with the Poets,” including a male quartet that wears evening clothes costing $90 for each member, people who pose as living pictures, and an actor who can read poetry. Ned Wayburn, an old minstrel man, has put on a great number of successful acts in which he employs at least a dozen people and three changes of costume, and three sets of scenery. Sometimes he has twenty people, and the principal performer receives $100 a week. “The Minstrel Misses,” “The Rain Dears,” and “The Fu- turity Winner" have become widely familiar in vaudeville theatres. These big acts usually receive from $750 to $1,500 a week. The producer, who is also the manager, must pay the original cost, the salaries of the people he employs, and the transportation of the people and the scenery. His net profit on each act when it is playing averages about $100 a week. It is easier to book one of these big ensemble acts that costs a great deal than to book a cheaper one, because the vaudeville managers have found that audiences have been educated up to demanding the best that can be given them, and when people are pleased it means full houses. The managers make the audiences feel that they are receiving about double their money's worth. It's all business. THE ADVENTURER By LLOYD OSBOURNE Joint author with Robert Louis Stevenson of “The Wrecker" and “The Ebb-Tide"; author of " Motormaniacs," “ Baby Bullet,” etc. (Conclusion] CHAPTER XXV (Continued) can of kerosene, some broken packages of dynamite, sulphur matches, an old overcoat, (TERA and Kirk had talked of "seeing” a tin basin, towel, and cake of soap, a smeary V Cassiquiare. See it, indeed! Why, to drum of cylinder oil stoppered with a small do that one would need an army of laborers, funnel, dirty gunny-sacks, a bucket of water. machetes, dynamite, ladders, a permanent Crawshaw and Henderson jumped down, and camp, and months of time. In no more as though following an invariable routine, than a few hours, what could one do except each began to light a lantern, shaking them gape at several of the façades, peer into to see if they were full. some cavernous interiors, trail through the “Of course you will want to come down dense undergrowth on a search for fresh with me, captain,” said Crawshaw, picking wonders, with the possibility of getting lost up a sack, and eying Vera doubtfully. "But beyond all finding? if it is too much for Miss Westbrook to at- As the automobile impudently broke the tempt, we'll leave Henderson with her.” quiet, its exhaust echoing with startling dis- “Mayn't I have a sack?” inquired Kirk. tinctness, and shivering the air with an in- “No reason why I shouldn't bear a hand, congruous modernity, Kirk perceived that too, is there?" he had come on an impossible errand. He “All right; take that one, captain.” would carry away with him no more than a “Let me have one too!” cried Vera, her blurred memory of gloom, grandeur, and eyes dancing with pleasure. "Sacks of decay; a haunting recollection of cliff-like treasure-just think of it! Crammed full of façades, mossy, bulging, grotesquely carved, bars of gold-it's like a melodrama! Oh, staring down at him over intervening jungle; Kirk, isn't it wonderful?” and an undying regret to have to content “Banks will seem tame after this,” he himself with so little. replied gaily. “You don't have to be identi- Guiding the car with a sure, deft hand, fied here, and you draw what you can carry!” Crawshaw drove it forward with the noncha. He seized the lantern Crawshaw had given lant air of one who knew every inch of the him, threw the sack over one shoulder, and road. Adroitly picking his way round mounds impatiently demanded to be led on. of tumbled masonry, dipping into gullies, and They proceeded in single file, Crawshaw opening the throttle on the rise, shaving with leading, Henderson and Kirk in the center, a fine eye trees and stumps and rocks, he at Vera last, entering a dim corridor whose length reached the entrance of the building, twilight gradually turned to darkness as they rumbled through its damp and tunnel-like advanced. Behind them, through the jagged interior, and with much winding and turning, aperture that von Zedtwitz had made so picked a diagonal path across the courtyard many years before, the streaming sunlight beyond, to the arches of a gray and devastated diminished to a speck of fire. The lanterns, wing. . at first so feeble, grew steadily brighter. Here, as they came to a stop, were seen The pin-point of day vanished as the gallery some mean evidences of the invasion. A turned, narrowed, and sank deeper into the twentieth-century litter lay scattered on a rocky depths. The footfalls of the little stone floor whose slabs had been hewn and party reverberated with a hollow, mourn- set, as like as not, some centuries before our ful sound, giving the sense of hundreds softly Saviour's birth: picks and axes, an array of marching before and after them in an un- smoky lanterns, coils of line and rope, a ending tramp. 538 The Adventurer 539 The air was peculiarly lifeless, as though scant of oxygen and contaminated with poisonous exhalations. It was hard to resist the conviction that the vaulted roof might at any moment give way-either to crush them beneath untold tons of rock, or, falling behind them, to block their exit forever. That this dread was not altogether chimerical was proved by several places where they had to crawl on their hands and knees over masses of fallen rubble; or squeeze past dislodged boulders-leaving between them and their retreat obstacles that in retrospect grew increasingly formidable and terrifying, as though door after door had closed behind them, and the bolts had been drawn on a living tomb. The gallery ended in a lofty chamber of vague and unknown extent. The upraised hand touched nothing, and the voice re- echoed with richer vibrations. Crawshaw warned them to walk carefully, and led them to a sort of square well in the center. Here some steps descended into a void of impene- trable blackness—narrow, slimy stone steps, not two feet across, on one side hugging the wall, on the other unprotected by rope or railing. Kirk peered into the gloom over Crawshaw's shoulder. The little engineer started briskly to descend, but was suddenly arrested by an iron grip on his arm. "For heaven's sake, hold on a minute!” cried Kirk. “I want to know where this thing stops.” “At the bottom," returned Crawshaw, grinning at his own repartee, and enjoying the captain's undisguised alarm. “Great Scott, and where's that?” "Stay here, and I'll show you,” he said. “It reaches what we call the main level about forty feet below. I'll light you from down there, and Henderson from the top, and then you can see your way without trouble.” Man and lantern descended into the abyss. At the foot there was a wild flurry of bats, and a vision of flapping black wings, ribbed and skinny, flung hither and thither by the swirl of the engineer's lantern. Its light danced over the cavernous entrances of more underground passages, and was reflected in pools of water that partly concealed the floor. The thought of following cost Kirk a shudder, and Vera was clinging to him as though she had reached the limits of her courage. It was Henderson, more than Kirk, who rescued her from a shameful panic. “Don't tak’ on, young leddy,” he said with kindly concern. “It's always the way with those new to it to balk here, and wish to gie back as fast as may be. It's but a passing qualm, and ye ought to know we've all felt it, even them that's now so bold and venturesome.” His voice itself was as reassuring as the words he uttered. There was not a shade of nervousness in that broad drawl; merely a sympathetic matter-of-factness that was in- finitely encouraging. “Aren't you coming?” cried Crawshaw from the depths. “Do you dare?” whispered Kirk. Vera assented tremblingly. “If you like, we'll- “No, no, Kirk; only hold my hand tight, won't you?" He went in front of her and cautiously guided her down the treacherous steps. Henderson, hanging over the edge above, slowly swung his lantern to and fro. At the foot was Crawshaw holding up his. The descent was safely made, and they found themselves in an atmosphere of penetrating cold and damp. An unwholesome moisture bedewed the walls, and oozing from a myriad pores, trickled to the floor, where it gathered in dismal pools. The blackness seemed to grow more profound, more intense, and the glimmering lanterns were shrouded in an inky pall that closed on them like something tangible. As Crawshaw led on, their feet splashed in unseen water, and stumbled over obstructions that disconcerting'y blocked their way. It was a nightmare of slime and wet and darkness; of groping and falling; of sudden starts and terrors. All sense of direction was lost. They mounted. They descended. It was a labyrinth, without end or beginning. At times the rocky ceiling almost touched their heads; at others their outstretched hands closed on air, and it was as though they were passing through the vast aisles of a subterranean cathedral. Craw- shaw would have stopped to elucidate these mysteries, and perkily show them some of the hidden wonders—but they urged him on with a vehemence that sprang from despera- tion. His willingness to strike aside, to abandon what was apparently the main thor- oughfare, for radiating catacombs, to lose them still farther in the horrible maze, froze their blood. The little man was proud of his knowledge, and insistent on putting it at their disposal. He stepped out as surely as though the sun were shining overhead, and 540 Everybody's Magazine his eyes actually saw the things he described. view. The first feeling of astonishment gave But Kirk and Vera could not be tempted. way to unspeakable relief. The long-drawn They never put fout in the famous arsenal, tension snapped. They could hardly take in where in serried thousands the primitive arms what Crawshaw was saying. He wished to were said to be ranged. They turned deaf have his improvised generator admired, his ears to his wish to stop in the store chambers ingenuity applauded; they could see for them- and explore their musty recesses. They re- selves that the generator consisted of nothing fused to shiver, with the pressure of a finger, more than an old meat-can, with a seepage those chests that fell to dust at the merest of water through a core of unglazed earthen- touch. ware. Kirk was on fire to finish the whole ad- But there were more exciting things to venture. He bitterly took himself to task exclaim over. On one side, methodically for .ever having led his sweetheart into it. stacked against the wall, was an array of dark, He was oppressed by the darkness, the cho- moldy, familiar-looking bars, built up in a king air, the hideous possibilities of disaster. crisscross fashion sixteen inches or so above His heart beat quickly, and his brain was in the floor. The inroads already made upon a whirl of apprehension. What would hap- the treasure were apparent from the moss and pen if the oil gave out? If Crawshaw were to discoloration that rose, not unlike a sort of lose his way, and suddenly confess with hor- wainscoting, to a much greater height, clearly ror that he knew not how to extricate them? defining a recent line of demarcation. But What if they were left, without light or food enough still remained, a fraction though it or water, to face a lingering and dreadful was of the original hoard, to constitute death in those underground caverns? He a fortune running into the hundreds of tried to put these thoughts from him, to af- thousands. fect the tourist-like interest that Crawshaw Kirk and Vera, in fascinated silence, gazed seemed to demand—but it was in vain. He at the ingots that had lain thus lost and for- could do neither. His one consuming desire gotten for incalculable years. To touch them was for the free air of heaven. was as though to bridge the chasm of centuries At length they stopped. and close hands with the phantoms of the “Here we are,” cried the engineer, raising past. Even in that far-off time, gold had his lantern to look at his watch. “How long been the symbol of all that was precious and do you suppose it has taken us, captain?” desirable. Ease could be purchased with it Kirk hazarded an hour. Vera, on being —pretty women, luxury, power, palaces, and pressed, faintly guessed a half hour more. slaves. The fortunate were esteemed those Crawshaw burst out laughing. who could find it, who could take it, who “Seventeen minutes," he said. could keep it. The ages had rolled over this Kirk, incredulous, confirmed the extraor- vanished people, and the mocking emblem dinary fact with his own timepiece. for which they had struggled, schemed, and “It's an illusion,” went on Crawshaw. fought, alone survived them. At what a cost “It's hard to account for. You are closer of human misery it had doubtless been within the mark than most of them. I've gathered together! What countless backs, known them to say three hours." . : bleeding under the lash, had won it of mother Snapping his watch shut, and bidding them earth! What wars, what crimes, what tor- remain where they were, he took a dozen tures had not the amassing of it involved! steps from them; and bending down, was Gold! the immemorial incentive, the imme- seen to fumble with a small apparatus on a morial curse of all human activity-where wooden box. Then he struck a match, and can you find the least piece of it that is not held it to what was apparently an acetylene splashed with blood! gas-burner. There was a tiny flicker, a Crawshaw and Henderson loaded their sound of escaping air, and two dancing specks bags. Kirk, in a sort of maze, followed their of flame swelled into one, and suddenly rose example. It all made for him an inefface- in a little fan. The effect was dazzling in able picture—the sunken chamber; the ingots; the extreme to eyes grown accustomed to the white, intent faces; Vera's slender figure, obscurity. They found themselves standing so incongruous and beautiful against the dark in a high and brilliantly illuminated cham- stone; the blinding fan of flame fed from a ber, some thirty feet square and a dozen high, tin can that still bore a Chicago label. with every nook and cranny of it bared to Crawshaw extinguished the gas, and as he The Adventurer 541 did so, the scene vanished forever. The dull "It's thunder,” persisted the engineer, gleam of the lanterns hardly more than suf- petulant with misgiving. ficed to light their feet, and they were again en- “Hardly likely on a day like this,” said gulfed in an all-pervading night. In single file, Henderson. “Why, there wasn't a cloud in the men bending under their sacks, they began the sky.” to retrace their way, and follow out the tor- “Well, it has to be thunder, for there's tuous passages through which they had come. nothing else it can be,” exclaimed Crawshaw It was as eerie a progress as the one before, sharply. as ghostly and full of tremors. The rock “I am not so sure," put in Kirk. “I'm seemed to crush them in as though with an not sure at all that it is thunder.” intolerable weight. They were entombed; Then raising his lantern, he looked the the coffin-lid was descending; they were others squarely in the face. suffocating in a horrible, clammy darkness. “Crawshaw,” he cried, “those are the Such at least, as nearly as they can be put machine guns of the Fortuna.” into words, were their sensations, which no amount of will-power could altogether dispel. The best that resolution could do was to CHAPTER XXVI keep them at bay, and coerce the shrinking flesh with appeals to reason, to sanity. For a moment they were too stunned to Courage returned only as they mounted the move. Then flinging down their sacks, they side of the well, and found themselves on the began to run, urging one another to a frantic upper level. Instantly their hearts lightened; haste. The reverberation of their feet on the air grew less oppressive; the rays of their the stony floor drowned all other sound. lanterns seemed to penetrate a greater dis- The consuming thought was to reach the tance and bathe the party in an increased open air, and verify Kirk's terrible surmise. effulgence. It became possible for the first If it were the guns, it meant that the ship time to talk and laugh with unconcern, to was beset and fighting for her life. It throw aside all apprehensions, to regard the meant that their own retreat was cut off. whole adventure as already finished. At sight of the opening, they redoubled Indeed it almost was. A few minutes more, their pace. The twilight made their lanterns and they might expect to see the crack of sun- no longer necessary, and they dashed them shine at the end of the last tunnel. They aside to lie smoking where they fell. Kirk redoubled their pace. It was good to think of loosened the revolver in his holster, and the daylight beyond, and of the fresh wonders warned the others to do the same. They awaiting them. Crawshaw promised them a knew not what they might find outside, and stay of two hours more, and was himself to be it was well to be ready for the worst. As their guide. They were to climb to the very they darted into the open, and gathered, pant- top of the building, exploring it as they went, ing and breathless, about the car, the boom and then look down on the entire city. They of the distant guns broke with unmistakable were to- .. meaning on their ears, rolling and rerolling His eager voice was silenced by a long, low with a harsh, furious splutter that told of a rumble, so faint, so mysterious, that it was desperate battle below. impossible to determine from what direction No time was lost in taking counsel or in it came. making plans. Crawshaw started up his en- The little party halted instinctively, and gine, and they were off in the twinkling of an drew closer together. eye, with a headlong rush that tossed caution "It's thunder,” said Crawshaw, straining to the winds—Vera beside the engineer; Kirk his ears. “Yes, it's thunder!” huddled on the floor at her feet, his long The rumbling died down. forty-four glistening across his knee; Hender- They went on, slowly and uneasily, whisper- son standing up behind, his, tall figure sway- ing conjectures. Perhaps it was a landslide. ing with every lurch of the car, his face set Or could one of the galleries behind them and grim, as he stared ,unblinkingly ahead have fallen in? They shot down the track at a lightning “Hush!” cried Kirk suddenly. “There it pace, with a grind of brakes at the turns, and goes again.” skids that threatened to pare the tires off the The rumbling recommenced, dully and rims. Crawshaw handled the car like a racer, fitfully. which meant that he took his own life in his 542 Everybody's Magazine hands, and forgot that the others had any to lose. But fast as he went, the straining hearts he bore wished for faster still, and voices shouted to him madly to let her out Every second was unendurable that kept them from the lookout point. They tore like a whirlwind down the last stretch, and ran out on the shoulder of the mountain as though to bound over the preci- pice beyond. The brakes, set hard, failed to bring the car to a standstill, and the metal screeched shrilly as she glided, with barely checked momentum, toward the yawning brink. Had not Crawshaw meshed his re- verse in the very nick of time, they would all have plunged into eternity. But they had no time to commend him, nor to shudder at the narrowness of their escape. Their eyes were fixed on the Fortuna far below; and her plight, now startlingly visible, engrossed their whole and undivided attention. She was bearing away under full sail, hotly pursued on either flank by black, seething masses of mounted savages. Flame was spitting from her sides, and the air was rent by sharp, low detonations that rose and fell irregularly like the popping of distant fire- crackers. The wind, though steady, was far from strong. The horsemen easily kept pace with the ship, and occasionally some even outran her, and attempted to head her off as they might a wild bull. But the Fortuna drove into them with resistless force, and her wheels jolted over those that failed to escape in time or were shot down from the foremast rigging as they turned to fly. At first sight, it seemed a most unequal contest, with every thing in favor of the ship. But the perti- nacity of the savages, their fanatical resolu- tion, their enormous numbers, unthinned and undismayed by that hail of death—all shook the confidence of the onlookers as to the ultimate outcome. These wolves of the llano, individually so harmless, with nothing but bows and arrows, spears, and an occasional flint-lock to op- pose smokeless powder and steel-tipped bul- lets, were in the mass a most formidable en- emy, and terrible to withstand. They were capable of beating down all resistance by sheer weight and intrepidity. As Kirk gazed down at that tornado of battle, he was stag- gered to see how slight an impression, after all, the Fortuna was able to make on the dark sea encompassing her. Her guns mowed down wide swaths of men and horses; they fell as trimly as grass before a scythe; but the shattered ranks refilled, the scythe cut and cut apparently in vain; the swarming horde neither slackened its pursuit, nor showed, in the aggregate, the smallest lessening of num- bers. Had the breeze freshened, which, alas, there was no sign of its doing, the tactics of the previous conflict might have been re- peated with terrific advantage. The ship might then have been put about, and her vast bulk been utilized to tear repeated pathways through her enemies, and grind untold num- bers beneath her wheels. But what wind there was hardly sufficed to keep her moving at more than six or seven knots an hour-a speed prohibitive of all such tactics—and thus her most powerful weapon, her mobility, was unfortunately unavailable. But more alarming than anything else was the unaccountable confusion that seemed to reign on board. The firing became fitful and unsteady. Several times she yawed wildly, and narrowly escaped jibing. Tiny figures could be seen slipping down the rigging, seemingly abandoning their posts in panic. The machine guns stopped altogether, though a persistent rifle-fire could be plainly heard, and with it a faint, muffled sound of undis- tinguishable import. Could it be cheering? But the wake showed no signs of increased slaughter. On the contrary, the dribble of bodies nearly ceased, and the melancholy ribbon of them, stretching far across the plain, began to widen with great gaps-ominous portent of the ship's ebbing resistance. Suddenly she wore ship, and the maneuver opened her broadside to view. Then was learned the reason for her apparent abandon- ment of the fight. Her forecastle was black with men, and a hand-to-hand battle was taking place on her forward deck. The savages had gained a foothold on her bow, and were obstinately holding their own, while their numbers were constantly reenforced from below. Figures could be seen struggling frantically to clamber aboard; occasionally one would fall back into the boiling, swirl- ing mass from which he had arisen. Axes sparkled in the sun; rifles cracked; pistols rained incessant bullets. But the savages seemed not to give an inch. The battle, like some wild sea squall, drove steadily to leeward. The Fortuna dwindled in the immeasurable expanse. The reverberations lessened; her decks grew in- distinct; the galloping savages shrank to a mere stain on the red-brown earth. The The Adventurer 543 wan issue was lost on the dark rim of the horizon, Kirk, ignoring his surly manner. “We're all above which nothing showed but the upper in the same box, aren't we? There's no use spars, and the lofty kits still full of wind. giving up before we have to. Keep your Thus she melted into the uttermost haze, a brains for a better purpose.” feather against the sky-line, a speck, the Henderson laughed mirthlessly. He was mystery of her fate still unknown as she a tall, spare, reddish creature of a harsh passed from sight, perhaps forever. geniality, who was ordinarily rated one of In the intensity of his preoccupation, Kirk their best and stanchest men, always cool, had completely forgotten himself and the always resourceful, always the first to volun- others with him. He awoke from a sort of teer for anything disagreeable or dangerous. dream, and, trembling in every limb, drew To have him falter now was to Kirk like a his hand across a forehead wet with sweat. blow in the back. His heart grew heavier For a moment he was absolutely unmanned. than ever as he accompanied him back to Vera had sunk to the ground beside him, and Vera and Crawshaw. Together they made her shoulders shook with an occasional sob- a forlorn little group about the car. bing breath that quavered like a child's. “Now, see here, everybody," began Kirk. Crawshaw was seated on the step of the “I want you all to listen to me, and listen automobile, staring into vacancy with a look hard. We can't go back to Cassiquiare- of unspeakable despair. Henderson lay on that's plain. No food, no hope, no anything. the track, his face hidden by his arm as though We certainly can't stay here, waiting like for him the world had ended, and he realized ninnies for angels to descend and help us. the hopelessness of any further effort. effort Well, what's left? Why, to take the gamble Kirk put his arm about Vera and drew her —to chance the savages, and chance picking up. He pressed her close to him with a tragic up the ship.” pity. He kissed her as he might on the edge “They've got her by this time,” said of the grave, with the tenderness and poign- Henderson. ancy of an eternal farewell. His warm lips “How do you know that?”. seemed to break the spell that benumbed her. “It's a thousand to one, anyhow." She clung to him, clasping her hands about “Then you don't know. How can you his neck and giving way to uncontrollable possibly know? The last we saw of her she emotion. His cheeks were wet with her was still under control. There was still a tears; her slender, girlish body nestled against white man at that wheel, Henderson. How him, solaced by the sense of his strength and long could she have laid a course if our fel- courage and resolution-and, as is the way of lows had been bested? Not a minute, by woman-calling them all into being by her George! The masts would have been out of very faith in their existence. her before you could say Jack Robinson.” Soothed and comforted, she gradually “And what when the wind falls at sun- recovered some degree of composure; and down?” though still deadly pale, and at times quiver- “She may have fought herself clear by that ing with violent tremors, she managed, with time.” the help of Kirk's supporting arm, to totter “Or not.” over to Crawshaw, and take a seat beside him “Yes or not. That's one of the chances on the long step. The little engineer made we have to take. We have to go on the sup- no movement, not even turning his head. position that she has pulled through. Admit "What's to be done?” asked Kirk, break- that she has, for argument—isn't it our policy ing the intolerable silence. to reach her?” “I don't know," returned Crawshaw in a “But we may never pick her up at all,” listless tone. “We're done for, I suppose. said the engineer, putting in a word for the We'll never get out of this.” first time. “We've no compass, no means of Kirk next tried Henderson. He roused letting them know our predicament, no cer- him from his stupor of dejection, and forced tainty of even following her in the right him to get up. direction. What's to prevent our getting “Don't lie there like a log,” he cried. “If stuck out there in the middle of nowhere?” this is the end, meet it like a man." “No worse than this, old fellow.” Henderson, risen to his feet, glowered Crawshaw shuddered. stupidly at him. “It's something to die in peace,” he said. "Come along, and talk things over,” said “There are no Indians here.” 544 Everybody's Magazine “No great difference in the long run,” re- to the horrors awaiting them below was it not turned Kirk stoutly. “There will be fewer better, after all, to submit to the inevitable, Indians—I'll answer for that, How are and choose the easier way? To choose their we off for cartridges ?” death, instead of having to accept it in some There ensued a grim counting. horrible and agonizing form, amid shrieks Seventy-nine. A pitiful supply and powder-smoke and raining arrows and “These are as good as a thousand,” said thrusting spears? The cowardly flesh would Henderson, poking the little heap with a have it that Crawshaw was right. The soul stubby finger. “I take it, the captain's idea within said no, and again no; a brave man ain't to fight-it's to get through somehow- fights to the last, and then falls, if he must, and if we hammer off the exhaust pipes the with unconquered intrepidity. noise will be worth more to us than any Vera's eyes, so brilliant, so wild, so in- pistol-popping.” satiably fixed on his own, pierced him with “A good suggestion,” cried Kirk. “We indescribable pangs. Her beauty, her youth, can make a frightful racket by stripping off her grace and delicacy had never seemed to the hood, and letting the cylinders exhaust him so precious as at that moment, when, into the open air.” with a breaking heart, he mutely took farewell “And get an increased efficiency,” ex- of her. claimed Crawshaw, awakening to technical "Boys,” he said in a husky voice, “it's interest. “At least fourteen per cent.” time to be off!” He jumped up as though to set about the The engine, at the throw of the switch, task. began to explode and roar. Kirk hastily “Oh, not yet," protested Kirk in alarm. changed places with Vera, making her crouch “We don't want to start off shooting like a at his feet while he took her former, more cannon. We don't want to attract any more dangerous seat beside Crawshaw. The pon- attention than necessary. There may be no derous car leaped back, leaped forward, and savages at all, remember; or they may be at with a sharp turn of the wheel and a clang of such a distance that we can slip through gears, sped swiftly down the incline. without detection.” “But the hood can come off directly,” said Henderson with eagerness; "and then it will CHAPTER XXVII take only a few taps to do the rest when the time comes." REVOLVERS in hand, Kirk and Henderson What a help it was to do something! It is each watched the road in front like hawks, inaction that kills. The task of breaking off and at every turn of its twisting course drew a the hinges made a welcome diversion. Craw- breath of relief to find it still unbarred and shaw fumbled in his tool-chest, and handed uncontested. It was so narrow in places out tools with a matter-of-fact air as though that a single good-sized boulder could have he drew confidence from their very touch. held them prisoners, while from above a Henderson briskly seized the hammer and shower of rocks might easily have been dis- cold chisel, and neatly parted the brass. lodged to destroy them. As they skirted The two covers were flung away, revealing crags and precipices, they kept looking above below the compact and powerful engine. in involuntary terror, lest with crashing fury Then Henderson took a look at the tires, and some unseen enemy might let fly at them gave each one a friendly kick. with this primitive artillery. But nothing “The auld limmer's ready if you are," he disturbed their downward passage, and the said, smiling at Kirk. “It won't be her deep silence was unbroken save by the drone fault if we don't make it." of the coils and the sound of their panting For a while Kirk stood silent, unable to engine, echoing and reechoing through the utter the command to start. The unknown rocky gorges. loomed before him, pregnant with terrible Their courage rose. Their fingers tightened possibilities. He paused on the threshold on their weapons with a surer grip. They less from indecision than to pull himself to- began to feel a certain exhilaration in their gether and steel his nerves for the worst that own hardihood and daring. Man—and the might befall. Crawshaw's wail returned to white man most of all-is indeed a fighting him with tempting significance. “To die in animal, and once his first tremors are over- peace! To die in peace!” Ah, in contrast come, he draws a long breath and is good till The Adventurer 545 he drops. Kirk grew conscious of the change of the savages on their prey. Its own de- in himself. He seemed to see it, too, in the struction was the price of those few minutes, visage of the gaunt Scotchman; in little Craw- at most not more than an hour, that had shaw, bent over the wheel, with lips com- filled the tragic interval. pressing at every jolt, and a new light shining The rifles-service Mausers with side-clips through his spectacles. -were hastily loaded; the boxes of car- Mile after mile rolled away behind them, tridges were transferred to their own car; and still they were unchallenged. They had the provisions and demijohn were replaced the solitude to themselves, and seemed to in their original wrapping, and carefully share it with no other living creature. They packed in the locker beneath the seat. All were engulfed in a vast loneliness, which this was done in a fever of haste and impa- was but intensified by the measured beat of tience—the thunder of both engines seeming the motor, and the rhythmic purring of the to urge them on with a thrilling reminder that chains. every moment was precious. Crawshaw Of a sudden, shooting round a curve, they jumped up beside Weaver's body, and, push- were electrified by the sight of the other car, ing it to one side, backed the car to the edge -its nose rammed into the hillside, its en- of the ravine. Then all three men laid hold gine racing furiously, and the overheated of the wheels, and with a united effort tumbled radiator boiling out torrents of water and it over. It crashed down the steep incline steam. The seat was empty, but over the like an avalanche, no one looking to see where dashboard, in a limp and dreadful attitude, it finally landed. It was enough that the there hung the ghastly apparition of a man. road was clear, and they were free to pro- They jumped out and ran to him. The ceed. face, as they raised it, and looked into the Then they were off again, the engine hum- staring, sightless eyes, was that of Weaver, ming as Crawshaw advanced the spark to a the jockey. His neck had been pierced by a twenty-mile clip. The track was too rough spear; blood was oozing from a dozen other to bear more, for they were now on the lower wounds, discoloring his shabby khaki suit levels, where often for considerable lengths with great splotches of crimson; one hand the ground was untouched by either pick or still clutched an arrow that he had torn from shovel. Jolting and bumping on their doub- his living flesh. They gazed at the corpse ling springs, they held on their way with with awe, gripping their revolvers, and asking fierce vigilance, their rifle-barrels covering one another, in hushed voices, what his er- every rock and bush that enfiladed them. rand could have been. There was something peculiarly trying in the A closer inspection gave the answer. sense of unseen foes surrounding them, of At his feet there was a rough package of unseen hands bending back venomous bows, sailcloth, which, when pulled out and opened of unseen eyes measuring distances and aim- on the ground, showed them what he had ing at the heart. Those that had done for died to bring. Here, tumbled together, were Weaver could not be far afield. The wilder- biscuits and cartridges, some cans of pre- ness seemed peopled with lurking phantoms. served meat, a demijohn of water, and four The country grew more open, as, with rifles-snatched, as one might a life-belt, to lessening billows, it gradually attained the throw to a drowning man. This bundle had plain. Rocks and bushes disappeared, and cost poor Weaver his heart's blood. His had with them the apprehensions of which they been the thought, his had been the devotion, had been the cause. No ambuscade was pos- and now, as it were from his dead hands, they sible on the sun-baked earth, unbroken by reverently received his charge. even a blade of grass. What enemy there Presumably with a dying effort, he had might be, had to show himself a mile or more disengaged the clutch, and pushed both spark away. The rifle, in cool hands, was now a and throttle into the last notch, with a view to hundred times more formidable than it had daunting his pursuers by the ensuing uproar. been. With its long reach, it could laugh But whether this had been done by design at the puny arrows brought against it. Num- or by accident, there was little doubt as to bers would still tell, of course; but it was its effect. The sixty-horse engine, reverber- good to think that it was no longer in the ating with unchecked and terrific velocity, power of the savages to surprise them, and had been left to rack itself to pieces, and to that before succumbing they could sell their stem, with ear-splitting menace, the final rush lives most dearly. . 516 Everybody's Magazine At length they drew near the familiar place where for so many weeks the Fortuna had stood, immovable and towering, like a ship becalmed on a glassy sea. They slowed down, and gazed with a sort of disconcerted wonder, and a strange feeling of homeless- ness, at the spot they knew so well. All about them was the disordered litter of their camp-empty drums of gasoline; bottles; stacks of tin cans; some piles of firewood; a tarpaulin, freshly painted and pegged out to dry; tools still lying where they had been dropped; the pit for the automobiles; spades, picks, and crowbars in a heap; and those inevitable scraps of paper, fluttering in the wind, that everywhere seem to accom- pany civilized man on his wanderings, and mark his deserted resting-places. Beyond, they passed the first body, the forerunner of those fallen hundreds that were to guide them so many gruesome miles across thellano. The savage had been caught beneath one of the Fortuna's wheels, and lay crushed and hideous, his outstretched hands clawing the earth as though in a despairing effort to draw_himself away. Near him was a horse, weltering in blood; and a dozen yards farther on were more naked and prostrate forms huddled thickly together as though one volley had brought them down. And so it continued, with a horrible monotony, a hor- rible sameness, till the attention grew callous, and the flesh no longer shuddered nor sick- ened at horror upon horror. Occasionally a head lifted itself, and snarled at them. Figures were passed, with matted hair and dark gleaming eyes, crouching and nodding on the blood-stained earth; others could be seen writhing, crawling, convulsively strug- gling to extricate themselves from the heaped- up dead that smothered them. There was a grim satisfaction in the thought of the diminished numbers to encounter. To the white man, in his extremity, the dead Indian is always the best Indian. The trail of corpses seemed to promise that the Fortuna might vet save herself. Surely the men who had defended themselves thus valiantly would not go down before that last onslaught they had witnessed on her decks! Surely the sav- ages must have been weakened and the mass of them discouraged hy so terrible a slaughter! There were horses everywhere. Tough, thin, wiry little broncos, caught from the wild herds that roamed at will over the prairie. A fine stock that had reverted to nature-as thrifty as goats, as indomitable as Arabs, as tireless and spirited as their far-off sires in Andalusia. The car, grinding on its second speed, startled many into floundering and in- effectual attempts to rise. Others, dragging themselves miserably on three legs, snorted, reared, and tried to run, only to fall ex- hausted before they had covered a dozen yards. The sun set in a wild and fiery splendor, the warning of heavy weather soon to come. The wake of battle thinned, and at last abruptly ended. Before them stretched the plain, as pathless, as illimitable as the sea. They stopped the car, and, getting out, put ear to the earth in the hope of some guiding sound. But there was none, and they had no alternative but to blunder forward and keep as straight a course as they could-the sun their compass till dusk, and then the starry constellation of the Cross. But where? To what? The Fortuna lay somewhere in that vast void, but how slender the chance of ever finding her; and if she were found, might not their success be more terrible, more heart- rending than any failure? What if they came upon her, ghostly, gray, and silent in the night, her decks a charnel-house, her crew sleeping their last sleep beside her guns? T hey moistened their throats with a draft of the warm, vapid water. Eat they could not. They had neither the time nor the inclination. On, on, on—that was the impelling impulse. To put, if possible, their awful doubts at rest; perhaps, God willing, to find the ship all well and safe, and friendly hands outstretched to grasp their own. They started again, their spirits descending with the sun, the long shadows darkening their souls. Cramped with long sitting, worn out by devastating emotions, dejected, despair- ing, body and brain alike spent, they re- sumed, with gloomy acquiescence, their rack- ing, toilsome way. The twilight deepened into dusk. The Cross glimmered in the southern sky. Mov- ing, always moving, yet they seemed to make no progress. The dome above, the flat below, they themselves seemed to remain in the very center of an unshifting world. They swept the pitiless horizon in vain for the least break, for the faintest outline of spars and rigging that lay somewhere or other beyond in the infinite solitude. But nothing re- warded their straining sight. The engine began to splutter and gasp. It took no expert to tell that something was seriously wrong with it. The car slowed The Adventurer 547 down. It stopped. Crawshaw made no reply to the anxious questions addressed to him. He ran behind, bent down, and then reappeared with a haggard face. “Tank's dry," he explained curtly. “Been leaking for miles. The old wagon has run her last yard!” He leaned both elbows on the dash-board, and looked up at them. The action was eloquent of hopelessness. “Run her last yard!” They were castaways, indeed. The radiator was boiling sullenly. The smell of roasting metal and hot oil was wafted to them. It was hard to realize that their willing giant had given up the struggle, and was now no more than an inert mass of steel. Kirk was the first to put a good face on the matter—the cruelest and hardest duty of leadership. “I don't know that we need cry about it,” he said. “Perhaps we are as well off here as anywhere. The ship is sure to beat back for us to-morrow." "If anybody is alive to do it,” muttered Henderson in sinister agreement. “We're going on that idea,” exclaimed Kirk angrily. “If she's gone-well, so are we—and all the gasoline in the world wouldn't help us!” Crawshaw nodded. “Captain's right,” he said, pulling out his pipe and lighting it. “That is, if the rest of those beggars aren't too close to us. (Puff, puff.) If they are (puff, puff), we are in a nasty place (puff, puff), and no doubt about it.” (Puff, puff.) Kirk and Henderson followed his example. For several minutes the talk ran back and forth on the same subject—the risk of going on, were such a thing possible; the risk of staying, which now had to be accepted as unavoidable; and the chance of the ship's picking them up. It was determined to de- molish the deck of the car, and keep a small fire burning all next day. Here was another peril, but what other means did they have of signaling their position? A column of smoke would carry twenty miles at least, and though the savages might see it, so also might the ship. It was Vera's voice that thrilled on them with a startling interruption. “Hush,” she exclaimed. “I am sure I heard something." There was an instant silence. “Over there,” she whispered." "Listen.” From the gathering shades there came the faint and measured tramp of innumerable feet, the sound of horses' hoofs, the clank of metal, and an undistinguishable humming as of a marching company, drawing nearer and ever nearer. They sprang to their rifles, and waited, with thickly beating hearts, for what was to befall. Cock, cock, cock-back went the triggers. Death was approaching with muf- fied tread. Teeth clenched, and muscles tightened. It was the end at last. From out of the night there rose a dark line of men and horses, the foremost ranks of a dim and straggling battalion behind. The course of the savages was not directly toward the car, but rather as though to pass it within a distance of twenty yards. The breathless little party waited for it to swerve and face about; waited for the yell of exultation at dis- covering them; waited for the terrific on- slaught that should roll up to the very muzzles of their weapons and carry them before it. But to their stupefaction there was no sign of turning. The long and plodding band held on its way in silence. Impassive faces regarded them. A hand was pointed; that was all. It was only by degrees that they pene- trated the mystery, and understood the reason of that grim, slow, and stumbling progress through the dusk. There was hardly a man there who was not wounded, hardly a horse that could move out of a walk. That was why those naked figures swayed in their saddles, supported by the upraised arms of others trudging on foot beside them; why, hanging to every stirrup, some wretched, limp- ing creature held himself from dropping, and clung with the tenacity of despair to what for him meant life itself. It was the shattered remnants of the horde that only a few hours before had pressed the ship so hard. Spent and broken, maimed, bleeding, and hardly able to drag one foot after the other, they passed in slow procession, and silently dis- appeared into the darkness. CHAPTER XXVIII It was some time before any one spoke. In spite of the witness of their eyes, they could not at once shake off an instinctive feeling of apprehension. Their rifles followed their vanished enemy, and they waited breath- lessly for some act of treachery or guile. It 548 Everybody's Magazine was only as the shuffling footfalls died en- put out their lamp; here ease and certainty, tirely away that they were able to comprehend with nothing to do but wait, with what patience the full extent of their good fortune. Not they might, till the ship beat back for them. only immunity from attack; that, incredible It was a hard conclusion to come to. The and surprising though it was, seemed as Fortuna's light beckoned to them with an nothing compared with the assurance of the almost unendurable insistence, bidding them Fortuna's safety. For surely that was what to hasten. was implied. How otherwise could they T hey settled themselves on the ground as explain the forlorn and spectral retreat of comfortably as they could. The terrible day those dejected hundreds? The ship had was over, with all its shuddering horrors. triumphed! The good old ship, so long given up for lost, They shook hands on it with the fervor of was winking and blinking at them with daz- men reprieved at the foot of the gallows. zling encouragement. “She's safe, she's safe!” they repeated in an Winking and blinking, indeed. Why was ecstasy of delight. They laughed uproari- it never still? What could explain those ously in a revulsion that verged on delirium. incessant alternations, so regular, so irregu- Rescue was close at hand. A few hours, lar, so baffling and capricious? Kirk, much that was all-a few hours, and then-! tantalized, was roused to time the periods Before they could get back to earth, and with his watch. The short flashes averaged while they were still in the throes of a feverish three seconds apart, the blanks thirty. He and almost agonizing elation, their attention grew immensely excited. was suddenly held spellbound by a flash of “Crawshaw,” he cried, "they're signaling light. It shot into the sky before them, a us!” thin, brilliant shaft like that of a far-distant “Of course they are," returned the little beacon, and moved restlessly to and fro. It engineer indifferently. “I've noticed it all was the ship calling to her children across along, only as we haven't the key I thought it the night! It was the Fortuna, questioning would be too disappointing to tell you." the blackness with her vivid searchlight, “You don't know the Morse code?” seeking news and sending it! "No." Ah, with what a shout they greeted her, “Nor you, Henderson?” as though no long miles lay between, as “The dot and dash wigwag business? though the spacious prairie had shrunk to a No, captain." few yards! Crawshaw was the first to re- “Who on board the ship does know it?” cover himself. With trembling fingers he “I can't think of anybody but Mr. West- loosened one of the lamps from its bracket, brook,” said Crawshaw. “It would be just and, putting a match to the gas, placed it like him, at least, to have it poked away in his back at such an angle that ray answered rav, head somewhere. There's nothing in ap- and the two inet and crossed each other in the plied electricity that he hasn't mastered at one sky above. If good news came, good news time or another." also went, and deeply anxious hearts com- Kirk cried out delightedly. forted one another in mute communion. “Then he's unhurt! Vera, your father The first thought was to abandon every- must be safe! That's what he is telling us!” thing, and push forward at any cost; to His words were received with a chorus of throw aside guns and food, and defying ex- enthusiastic agreement. The Morse code, haustion, distance, and danger, reach the ship however unintelligible in detail, had yet con- as fast as their weary limbs could bear them. trived to pierce the night with one precious But on maturer consideration the risk seemed bit of news. too great, and the chance of success too un All at once Kirk called for pencil and certain. They were utterly worn out, and in paper. no condition for a tramp of twenty, thirty, “I've an idea,” he exclaimed breathlessly. perhaps forty miles. The prospect of sinking His voice was vibrant, almost harsh. The on the way, with nothing to sustain them, and others, thrilling with astonishment, hurriedly no means of making their position known, sought their pockets. Henderson had a stub was too desperate to be hazarded. Here were of pencil. Kirk snatched it from his hand. food, water, weapons, ammunition in abun- “Paper, paper!” he demanded in an agony dance; planks with which to make a fire, and of impatience. raise a pillar of smoke when the sun should There was no paper. Not a scrap any- The Adventurer 549 where. Henderson volunteered to soak off “Y-0-u—you. Yes?” one of the meat-labels. “Nineteen, one, six, five.” “Can't wait for that,” snapped Kirk. “S-a-f-e-safe.” “Good heavens, I must have it, and have it “Any more?" quick! Look again, boys. Look, look!” “No, Kirk." “Would sandpaper do?” asked Craw He read over the four words. shaw doubtfully. “Safe are you safe?” “Yes—splendidly!” There was no time to waste in further con- Crawshaw ran to the tool-box, and got a gratulations. The pressing need was to couple of sheets. answer the ship, and so systemize their work “And bring one of the lamps,” cried Kirk that it should be as little cumbersome as after him. “One of the kerosene lamps.” possible. The engineer, with a chamois- The contagion of his excitement had seized skin that had been used for straining gasoline, them all. They, too, were in a tremble of was appointed signaler; Vera, timer; Hender- expectancy and wonder. They watched him son, recorder; Kirk, sender and decipherer. take one of the sheets of sandpaper, turn it “Twenty-five, five, nineteen,” was Kirk's over, spread it flat on his knee, and, lighted by first message. “Yes." the lamp Crawshaw held beside him, scribble. The following messages are copied ver- scribble, scribble as though his life depended batim from Henderson's sheet. It was pre- on it. Then he stopped, handed the second served as among the most highly prized sheet to Vera, together with the pencil, and relics of the expedition. The writing is asked her, with the same mysterious intensity coarse and blurred, and very difficult to of voice and expression, to write down the make out. The paper, originally of a light numbers he would give her. fawn color, has turned to dirty gray, and is so Retaining the first sheet, and mumbling to creased and broken that in some cases the himself as he slowly counted the flashes, he words have been only guessed at. The ship's at intervals called out the following numbers: telegrams, if they may so be called, are in each “Nineteen, one, six, five, blank. One, case marked by an X to distinguish them eighteen, five, blank. Twenty-five, fifteen, from the others. twenty-one, blank. Nineteen, one, six, five, X “Is Vera safe?” blank.” “Yes who asks?” “Now let's see what we've got,” he went on, X “Westbrook give casualties.” scanning his key. “What was your first “Weaver killed.” number?” X “Any wounded?” “Nineteen.” “None." “S-go on.” X “Ship hard pressed escaped do you “One." need help?" “A-go on." “No." “Six." X “In danger?” “F-go on." “No." “Five.” X “Can you 'hold out till wind rises to- “E—that's right!” morrow?" “Blank.” "Yes." “S-a-f-e-safe!” X "Have you food and water?” There was a tumultuous outcry at his “Yes." ingenuity. X “How can you mark your position?” “No Morse code about it!” he explained “Will make fire to guide.” rapturously, as they pressed about him. X “ Very good we will find you.” “Just the old alphabet, numbered regularly “We ask news specially yourself.” down the line. A, one; b, two, and so on! X“Am unharmed Phillips Emms Ford Transparently simple and obvious. Here, Webster Bruce killed Cohen dying.” don't bother me. Shut up, Henderson. A “Convey to Cohen wounded and all admira- little lower with the glim, Crawshaw. What tion of heroic defense.” are the next numbers, girlie?” X “Will obey good night.”. “One, eighteen, five." “Good night." “A-r-e-are.” The signals ceased on either side, and soon “Twenty-five, fifteen, twenty-one." after the ship's light sank, flickered, and went 550 Everybody's Magazine out. Their own, too, was extinguished, and with it seemed to go the stars. The all-en- compassing darkness resumed its sway, sultry, brooding, and heavy with a sense of impend- ing disturbance. Not that the little party gave these indications more than a passing thought. There were other and more en- grossing matters to absorb their whole at- tention. In hushed voices they repeated the roll of death; recalled this one and that; mourned for them all, these comrades now no more. A passionate gratitude animated them, a passionate relief-the inexpressible sensations of a soldier who has emerged from the battle unscathed, at once happy and wretched-tears and laughter, equally sincere, succeeding each other in a whirl of con- Alicting emotions. It was long after midnight before they began to nod. Sleep came upon them so stealthily that no watch was set, no pre- cautions were taken. The tired eyes closed. The tired limbs relaxed. One Indian might have butchered them all. Kirk awoke with warm rain-drops pattering on his face. The hoarse note of a squall broke on his ears. He sat up, and even as he did so the heavens reverberated with terrific explosions, and flash after flash of lightning illuminated the slumbering figures about him. They were on their feet in an instant, and clustered about him. The rain descended in torrents, and the wind whistled and shrieked. Wet to the skin, clinging to one another to withstand the violent gusts, apprehensive every moment of being struck by the lightning that incessantly played about them, they waited in misery for the squall to pass and vent its rage on the black night beyond. But another followed it, and another. The wind freshened to a steady gale. The rain stung their faces as it drove to leeward as though blown from cresting waves. The fear of thunderbolts gave way; standing in the blast grew too acutely uncomfortable to be borne; they sheltered themselves under the lee of the car, willingly accepting the chances of its being struck, all crowding together on the step like shipwrecked sailors on a rock. Here the dawning day found them, the wind blowing harder than ever, the tropic rain sop- ping their thin clothes, their feet ankle-high in a muddy pond. The weather horizon was wild and stormy, and part of it was hidden by fiercely advanc- ing curtains of rain. Ragged clouds scud- ded across the sky, dilapidated, fragmentary, lashed to fleecy shreds. Under the equator the outlook was as bleak and wintry as the North Sea itself, and a penetrating chill froze the little party to the bone. It was idle to talk of fire. Everything was soaked and dripping. An attempt was made to obtain a little heat by lighting the lamps. But the heads of the matches rubbed off in sodden paste, and they dared not persevere lest their slender stock should become exhausted. Even in their extremity they had to take thought of the future—of whole days perhaps before the ship could find them. Famished nature demanded food. Two cans of meat were opened, and biscuit were handed out, making a terrible breakfast, never to be forgotten, devoured in circum- stances of inconceivable discomfort. But it proved sustaining, nevertheless, reviving a sorely needed strength and courage. Then, as the only means left in their power to attract attention, they decided to fire a rifle in the air at minute intervals. The flash might be seen, even if the report were lost in the roar and bluster of the gale. The dreary fusillade began, carefully timed by a watch-surely the most despondent minute-guns ever fired, if not the most hope- less. And as the barrel grew hot with repeated explosions, hands were eagerly warmed on it, and another rifle was taken in its place. Kirk twice shot his revolver empty, and gave it, all smoking as it was, to Vera to put in her bosom. Suddenly through the gloom, on an on- coming squall, as unexpected and startling as the fabled phantasm that haunts the stormy seas below the Cape, there loomed into view the towering masts and closely reefed sails of the Fortuna, driving mistily on the wings of the gale. Gesticulating figures pointed wildly at them. The boatswain's whistle piped shrilly. Men were rushing to their stations and letting everything fly. The huge brakes screamed as steel was ground to steel, and the enormous fabric slowed and stopped. Aladder was thrown over her side. Beard- ed faces could be seen, clustering in a yellow, glistening mass of oilskins and sou’westers. From the bridge other figures were darting down, their voices lost in the bursting of the squall that at this moment opened with all the roar of heaven's artillery. Lightning flashed and forked. Thunder pealed. The wind swelled to fury, and howled through the rigging as though to carry the very masts before it. The Adventurer 551 ill, but his mouth was as firm as ever, and his expression as benignly unconquerable. As Kirk finished, he leaned forward, and their hands met and clasped. “My boy, my boy," he murmured. “I thank God for this-I thank God!” “We couldn't have stood it much longer, sir." Westbrook bowed his head in tragic as- sent. “We'll leave this horrible place as soon as you are rested,” he said at length. “When do you think you will be fit to travel?” “This minute,” cried Kirk. “That is, if Kirk supported Vera in his arms, and, pre- ceded by Crawshaw and Henderson, the little party struggled against the blast, and toiled laboriously across the cable's length that separated them from the ship. They pain- fully mounted the ladder, their muddy feet slipping on its rungs, their icy hands hardly able to hold the wet and slippery rope. One by one they reached the rail and were drawn aboard, to be swallowed up in a mad hurly- burly of streaming oilskins. Kirk had a confused vision of Vera clinging to her father -of the old man's face, pinched with suffer- ing, and rapt and tremulous with thanks- giving; of von Zedtwitz forcing his burly way to him, his eyes, beneath their grizzled brows, wet with other moisture than the rain; of Goltz, of Wicks, of Hildebrand, of all those tried and devoted comrades, surging and vo- ciferating about him in an ecstasy, in the ex- cess of their joy. As in a dream he found himself borne aft, jostled, crowded, almost lifted off his feet; found himself in the great cabin-warm, brightly lighted, disordered with blankets and cots, and reeking like a hospital. Wounded men called out to him. Feeble hands were raised to clasp his own. He stood there dazed, bewildered. Mrs. Hitchcock emerged from a cabin door with an armful of dripping clothes. She dropped them to the floor as she beheld Kirk, running to him in a whirlwind of giggles and exclamations. The incorrigible old egoist was as talkative as ever, and just as delighted to pounce on a new victim. She was the doctor now, she cried. Kirk had to obey her now. Everybody had to obey her now. He was to go to bed at once and tuck himself in with a hot bottle. Every- thing was ready. Hot blankets, hot bottles, hot broth! Hadn't it been sensible of her to see to it? Fortunately for Kirk, Crawshaw foolishly blundered into the fire-zone, and in the mo- mentary confusion that ensued Kirk took to flight, and escaped to his cabin. His teeth were chattering as he stripped off his clothes and hurried into bed. He lay all doubled up for warmth, and tried to over- come the chill that mantled him in ice. There was a tap at the door, and Westbrook entered, bearing a steaming bowl of soup. He sat down gravely on the edge of the bunk, and waited for Kirk to drink it, which the latter did sip by sip, each one a trickle of delicious warmth. The old man looked very frail and “She has borne it surprisingly well. It all turns on you." “Then lay the ship on her course at once. It would be a shame to waste such a 'gale as this when it is in our favor." “Then I may tell Goltz?" “The sooner the better, sir.” “That foolish girl wants a message. Said I wasn't to come back without it.” “Tell her I'm the happiest man in the world-and the tiredest." “No doubt about either.” “And that-that- " The weary head sank. The weary eyes closed. Westbrook gazed down at the hand- some face long and earnestly. A smile still lurked in the corners of the well-shaped mouth; the breathing was as soft and regular as a child's; a veil of contentment covered the careworn features now softened in sleep. The old man tiptoed silently from the room and held a whispered colloquy with Goltz and Wicks outside. few minutes later the Fortuna, under storm-trysail and treble-reefed foretopsails, was tearing her way through the dark and flooded llano. Her great wheels shot up a blinding spray; her great hull rocked and bounded on the groaning springs; her masts bent as though the tortured wood could not long hold back the weight of the gale. Wicks, his thick legs wide apart, one hand clenched on the rail, the other on his speak- ing-trumpet, dominated the uproar from the lofty bridge, and with masterful eye and rousing voice sped the ship on her perilous course. Gloom in front. Gloom behind. Dreary, watery stretches of sodden earth. Dripping ropes and thundering sails. A world of wet and wind and emptiness, through which the Fortuna lumbered in headlong flight, jolting, 552 Everybody's Magazine bumping, lurching; discordantly creaking in every rivet of her fabric. Homeward bound! CHAPTER XXIX THE gale held. The Fortuna outdid her self. Every bit of daylight was taken ad- vantage of, and she was pressed to the utmost. On the afternoon of their sixth day out, as they drew near Felicidad, it was decided to lighten her of superfluous weight in the hope of getting her in by dusk. Tents, chains, spare chandlery were cast overboard; casks of lubricating oil, of petroleum, of gaso- line, extra bolts of canvas, tools, anvils, jacks. It was like the stripping of some fleet runner for a supreme and final effort. She picked up with the loss of every ton-fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen miles an hour! Part of the treasure was shifted forward to trim her better. Tables, chairs, mattresses, ventilators, hatches, even the doors were wrenched from their hinges, and enthusias- tically sacrificed. Von Zedtwitz, whose cabin was crammed with Aztec remains, had to mount guard to prevent them from following. A crated idol, lashed to the foremast, was saved only in the nick of time from being shot overboard. And all the while the Fortuna with loosened reefs, with buckling yards, and backstays tautened till they whimpered and moaned, swept on with an increasing fury as though to outstrip the storm itself. “Felicidad ho!” “Where away?" “Three points on the starboard bow!” “Quartermaster!” “Aye, aye, captain!” “Luff a bit!” “Luff it is, sir!" “Trim in the sheets a bit, Mr. Goltz!” “Very good, sir!” “That will do. Belay there!” It was after five o'clock. The setting sun was hidden in banks of cloud. The wide savannas stretched away on every side to an unbroken sky-line, gray, monotonous, never so lonely as at that hour of declining day. The bow was crowded with men watching for the first sign of the settlement. On the bridge a smaller but no less eager party was trying to pick up the flagstaff with their binoculars. Felicidad, once so distant, so inconceivably remote, the end of the universe—now stood, by force of contrast, for civilization itself. A speck of flag, blowing out bravely! A blur of tent-tops ! The tall and rusty smokestack of the Moltke! Then frantic arms waving hats! The Fortuna rolled on majestically, dis- daining to shorten sail, or to slacken her head- way by an inch. Kirk aimed her at the center of the settlement, determined to bring her up, all standing, in the great court itself. He would give Felicidad a spectacle that would live in their memories forever, and bring the expedition to a magnificent and sensational close. In vain Westbrook urged him to be careful-pleaded-almost com- manded. “Leave it to me,” laughed Kirk. “I'm going to land her alongside the marquee!” There was a hail of orders. A rush to stations. Expectant faces waiting for the word. Up shot Kirk's hand. “Stand by! Shorten sail!” he thundered. The sails came down, lashing and re- verberating, flooding the decks with yellow billows. “Brakes!" “Aye, aye, sir!” “Easy, boys, easy!” The towering hull sped nearer the rows of tents, dwarfing them into insignificance. “Hard down!” “Hard down it is, sir!" There was a grinding jar, the groan of metal on metal, a shrill screech dying to a moan. The ponderous wheels slowly came to rest. The voyage was over. A waggish voice, from the merry, noisy, hilarious crowd below, yelled out: “What ship’s that?” Then came the answer in a stentorian voice: "Topsail schooner, Fortuna, Captain Kirk- patrick!” “Where from?” “Six days out of Cassiquiare, in treas- ure!” Any further questions were drowned in the salvos of cheers and counter-cheers that burst forth from every throat. The lowered gang- way swarmed with an incoming throng, shouting at the top of their lungs. . Wicks, elbowing vigorously, forced his way up to Kirk. “What orders, captain?” he asked, in his usual blunt, cool, sailor-like way. The Adventurer 553 “My dear old chap,” said Kirk, “I have given my last order and," turning to Vera, "the only captain I know now is this young lady. I've signed on for a life's cruise, and all you have to do is to wish me luck!” “With all my heart, sir,” cried Wicks, “and if I may take the liberty—may God bless you both!” Kirk's share was $437,000. He invested the four hundred thousand in first-class securities, and devoted the odd thirty-seven to his honeymoon. Vera and he worked their hardest to spend it, but had to admit at last, with great reluctance, that the task seemed beyond them. They were both of simple tastes, and, as Kirk remarked, neither of them had been expensively enough educated. Af- ter a few months' wandering in Europe, they returned to America, and settled in Long Island in order that Kirk might be close to the Westbrook works in Jersey City. He goes there every day in a small steam-yacht, and on summer afternoons Vera is usually aboard to meet him on his return. It must be admitted that among their fashionable neighbors they have the reputation of be- ing rather poky people in spite of their ro- mantic history, going out but seldom, and not caring to extend a very narrow acquaint- ance. It is large enough, however, to include Homer Kittredge. His arrival in America was made such a triumph that Kirk hesitated to obtrude himself into the blaze of limelight that surrounded him, and did so at last only with the utmost diffidence. But when he sent up his card at the St. Regis, the novelist came down in a rush, as gay and boyish and unspoiled as though he were quite an ordi- nary person, and greeted Kirk with an exuber- ance of regard. In a very few moments, the celebrity was outward bound in a spanking hansom, Kirk's promised guest for a week, and his warmest friend for all time. The visit lengthened into months, and was the beginning of an intimacy that grows closer with every year. The crew of the Fortuna scattered to the ends of the earth. News trickles in from them at long intervals, mainly in the form of a photograph of a baby. At the present moment there are sixteen tiny Kirks growing up in various parts of the world, and a lot of little Vera and Fortuna girls. Next year von Zedtwitz is to hold a grand reunion at Heidel- berg, where as many of the old hands as possible will be gotten together to celebrate his marriage to Mrs. Hitchcock. Yes, the secret is out, though his friends long guessed whither events were tending. When the old lady quitted Paris and built that famous re- production of the Trianon on the outskirts of the old German town, it was felt that she was laying siege in form, and that the rugged Herr Doctor would soon succumb. His outer works gradually crumbled before the persistency of her attack, and a steel-engraved card, in Gothic characters, now publicly flies the signal of his complete surrender. At present he is working hard on his book, which, when completed, will run to five large quarto volumes, aggregating two thousand closely printed pages, with sixty-two colored plates and one hundred and ninety pho- tographic reproductions, and will appear simultaneously in three languages. It is entitled “A Brief Record of the Voyage of the Land Ship Fortuna, with Observations and Notes Relating to the Ancient Ruins of Cassiquiare, together with an Account of the Author's Captivity among, and Subsequent Escape from, the Piapoco Aborigines, with some General Remarks on the Flora, Fauna, and Anthropology of the Mid-South American Region.” Intending purchasers had better order early, as an enormous sale is predicted. In the meanwhile, this unassuming and less authoritative narrative is offered to the in- dulgence of the public merely as a stop-gap for the more extended work to follow. THE END "CALLIE HAS COME TO ANNOUNCE HER ENGAGEMENT TO MR. BLOUDPOLE." THE MEASURE By MARY STEWART CUTTING Author of "Little Stories of Courtship," "Little Storiesoof Married Life," etc. Illustrations by Edmund Frederick M R. FRENCH is coming to dinner again in her mind with one of the most distressing M this evening?" events of her married life, for which she Mrs. Derwent's tone showed an annoyance held him partly responsible. But as she that she wished she could control-it added turned now from her husband, who was to her dislike of the man that the mere men- stooping over sorting out his golf clubs, her tion of his name made her speak like this eye caught sight of the corner of an envelope to her husband. protruding from under some papers on the “Yes. But bear up, Vera; he goes to Aus- Flemish oak table, and her face instantly tralia next week. Poor old Ellison, you softened. won't see him again in many a long day.” It was a very charming face, with a pe- Poor old Ellison, indeed! Vera Derwent culiarly high-bred cast in the slender arch of met her husband's smiling eyes with a look the brows, the little straight nose, and the that refused to take Mr. French into account full yet delicate lips. There were reasons with any pleasurable thought; apart from her why the glimpse of that purple, gilt-lettered dislike of him personally, he was associated missive from the Descendents Club should 554 The Measure 555 give her that sensation of having been drawn way his simple, friendly brightness always back from the brink of one of the deeps of affected people. She smiled herself for the life-she felt gratefully, as she had felt any fond pleasure of it, until the thought of the time these three years, that she oughtn't to coming of Ellison French clouded her once mind doing anything that Murray wanted her more. How Murray could like that man- ! to do; the letter stood now for the sign of a There had been a time three years ago, large relinquishment on his part. soon after their marriage, when he had taken "Please don't be late for dinner if Mr. Murray to one of the great dinners at the French is coming,” she pleaded as he bent Descendents Club-gorgeous affairs, duly over her to kiss her good-by. “I can't stand exploited in the papers. She had no thought talking to him without you.” of any danger beforehand, but when Murray “Why, I thought you'd quite got to like came home, near morning—there were things him," he suggested smilingly. she couldn't stand it to remember. Murray! “Got to like him! That's just the way She couldn't believe at first, she couldn't you are, Murray. If I don't say all the time realize why. Oh, perhaps some women just what I think, you fancy– No, I'd never wouldn't have thought it was anything! But like him, if I lived to be a hundred. How that it should have been at all! Murray! you can care for a man of his low caliber I It was like having something killed. She cannot see. And he exasperates me so by had never said a word to him about it. She always acting as if he knew you better than I couldn't, couldn't put him in the wrong. did! I don't suppose I could ever make him There had been only a mute confession and believe that you tell me everything, though a mute forgiveness, with afterward his whis- you do, don't you, dearest?”. pered, “You make me love you more every “Almost everything." day.” “Why do you always say that?" Her face The only time she had alluded in any way flushed. “It teases me dreadfully, though to the incident was when he had received the I know you don't mean it. Why won't you letter soon afterward, saying that he had been be serious?" put up for membership at the Descendents. "I tell you everything you'd care to hear,” He couldn't help being proud of the honor. he answered, putting his arms around her He hadn't known until somebody went to with something tender and secure in their searching old records that he, once a country embrace that shamed her little fierce pretense boy in Ohio, was the descendent of one of the of striving. “I'm always telling you that I heroes of a past age. love you! Why do you want to work yourself “But you wouldn't accept?” she had asked up into being unhappy?”. in horror. “I don't, I don't," she murmured, resting His slow, pondering gaze had tortured her her head an instant against his shoulder be before he answered: “I suppose not, but it's fore jealously relinquishing him. If he were a pretty big thing to feel that I could. You to have his Saturday afternoon sport he must don't know how much it means to me, Vera. go now. I'm so proud of it. If you had seen those As he went out he glanced casually at the banners and trophies and felt that they were hall table and then came back as if from an yours in a way, too!” afterthought, and taking up the purple en “Oh, Murray!” She clung to him pas- velope put it in his pocket, with an odd mo sionately. “Please, please, don't.” mentary change in his whole bearing, a haz- He held her to him silently for a time and arding shade of something not there before. then said, “Very well.” His wife stood by the mullioned window and She knew he would give up to her; yet she watched him striding off under the yellow did not belittle his giving up. She knew that clustered leaves of the winter oaks, his golf she had asked a great deal. There were clubs slung over his shoulders. He was a moments when the incident came back to very goodly person to look at, tall, springy, her as an absolutely benedictory proof of her and athletic, with dark eyes, and what his husband's love for her-but when any one wife thought very beautiful dark hair on his spoke of the Descendents Club, she seemed well-lifted head. Every one who met him, to see Ellison French's face sneering at her. the Lester girl, little May Rogers, and old It was one of the trials of Vera Derwent's Mr. Drum, all had a sort of reflected glow married life that she disliked her husband's on their faces after passing him. It was the friends. Before marriage she had always 556 Everybody's Magazine hotly disapproved of the wives who had no place in their scheme of things for the men and women who had been their husbands' comrades. She had pictured charming scenes in which she, becomingly arrayed, had made Murray's friends welcome in heart-to-heart fashion, winning their admiring gratitude as well as his. But when these nebulous friends stood out crudely as Mrs. “Callie" Brainerd and Mrs. Topham and Oli- ver Webb and El- lison French that was a very different thing And it was also a different thing that while these people were all so impossibly uncon- genial to her, Mur- ray never had the slightest idea of giving them up. He was as simply and frankly a friend as he had always been. For eight years prior to his mar- riage Murray had indeed lived in Mrs. Topham's house where the others were fellow boarders — per- haps they had some reason for that irritating habit of acting as if he belonged to them. As far as Vera could find out, Murray was Murray who, as a lawyer, had helped her to get her divorce from the man who afterward indubitably had married her. She was a pretty, shallow, clinging little woman, cased in a tin-like unperceptiveness that no expe- rience could remove. It was a foregone con- clusion that she would marry whenever she found herself free, and as disastrously as ever. But for all her shallowness and com- monness she had an indestructible kindness of heart. She loved, as she truly said, to wait on sick people; she was devoted to her delicate child with an un- reasoning affec- tion that kept him up late when he should have been in bed and would almost have fed him on poison if he had cried for it; and she was as capable herself of frightened misery as a child-her flesh and her heart cringed when she was hurt. As for Oliver Webb, there was nothing against him now except that there was nothing to him. He could sit like a fat, moon-faced dead - weight for hours without opening his mouth, though he always glowed from within when he was in the same room with Murray. They all did, even Ellison French, who in spite of his indisputably good birth was to Vera the most unpleasing of all. Through all his unvarying politeness to her there were times when his mere presence in the room seemed an insult to her, because she couldn't help feeling the manner of man that he was. That these should be Murray's chosen friends and companions seemed un- SHE FELT THAT SHE COULD NEVER GO BACK TO THE HOUSE. the establishment. It was he who fraternally “helped out” Mrs. Topham when she agonizingly “came short"; it was he who placated tradesmen, and as- sisted her out of all sorts of queer dilemmas with queer boarders. It was Murray also who had found a position for little Mrs. Brainerd when she returned with her child after two years of marriage with a man who had just been found to have another wife, and it was The Measure 557 accountable, and lowering to him. And it always have everything in such beautiful or- was the same wherever they went, all the der. Mr. Derwent used to be a great one for rag-tag and bobtail portion of the community upsetting things; you could always track him inevitably gravitated toward Murray's gen- by the newspapers he left on the floor.” tle, unjudging, honest cleanness. He con “Oh, he was the life of the house!” chimed sorted openly with publicans and sinners, in little Mrs. Brainerd, who in a very short and the worst of it was that he never seemed skirt and a pink hat with a white dotted veil to know that they were publicans and sinners. sat on a low ottoman near the fire. “It He never looked at them from an upper seems as if we could never get used to having plane. He had such a simple, illimitable him away. Earl often asks, ‘Mamma, when humanity that he saw only the human streak is Mr. Derwent coming back to live here?"" in all these people, and loved it, with a heal “How is your little boy?” asked Vera ing compassion for the defacing seams and coldly. She could never get over an extreme scars. irritation at these proprietary reminiscences. His wife admired the quality in him, but it "He isn't quite up to the mark,” Mrs. made her impatient, too. It seemed incom Brainerd answered with a clouded brow. prehensible that Murray, who was fit to com- “He had one of his faint spells this morning, pany with kings, could enjoy a long evening and he had seemed so well just before it. once a week smoking and playing pinochle He ate up the bagful of crullers that I with Ellison French, while she sate up-stairs brought him and then all of a sudden he and heard Murray laugh as he never laughed could hardly breathe. That's the way it with her. takes him; he can't breathe.” She was still standing by the window in the “When you can't breathe it seems as if long, wainscoted hall, trying to solve this every minute would be your next,” said Mrs. unending puzzle, with the purple edge of Topham feelingly. “I know how it is my- that envelope remaining oddly in her mind, self. But that isn't what we came to talk emphasized by the altered air of Murray as he about now. We had just a little hope that went out the door. Was it another appeal we might find Mr. Derwent here, as it is Sat- to him to belong to that club? Her heart urday afternoon, and then we saw him in the stood still and then beat again, with the joy distance, going to the golf club. I said, and gratitude of her recovered faith. As she ‘Callie, Mrs. Derwent will do just as well if was turning to go up-stairs she gave an ex- we can't see him.' Callie has come to an- clamation of dismay. Two of the subjects nounce her engagement to Mr. Bloudpole.” of her thoughts, Mrs. Topham and Mrs. “Oh!” said Vera blankly, conscious of a Brainerd, were coming up the piazza steps. sort of under-appeal in Mrs. Topham's voice. “At half past two!” she murmured, in vexa- “I don't think I've met him.” tion at the impossibility of the hour, and then "No, I don't think you have,” corroborated resignedly opened the door herself to the Mrs. Brainerd. “I've only known him a visitors, leading them into the library, where month myself; he's very distinguished-look- there was a log fire burning on the large, ing—so dark. I didn't want to marry again, arched, stone hearth. but I always did love a dark man, and then “Callie thought it was too early for us to Mr. Bloudpole is a real New York gentleman, come, but I had to get back early to see about and I think that makes such a difference. I dinner, and I said I knew you wouldn't make always said when I was a girl that I wanted strangers of us,” announced Mrs. Topham, to marry a real New York gentleman. It's whose blackly sparkling appearance in a singular how your dreams do sometimes come spangled hat and prehistoric beaded cape true at last, isn't it? Mr. Bloudpole's a reg- was offset by the lines of her tired face, and ular club man; he belongs to the Descendents, an indescribable air of having arrayed her- and you know what that means!” self hurriedly in shadowed corners. She “I thought perhaps Mr. Derwent might leaned back in the big mission armchair and have met him there,” suggested Mrs. Topham. gazed around as one whose eyes seldom “My husband doesn't belong to any clubs rested on a new interior. in town,” said Vera coldly. She was spurred “This is a pretty room, isn't it? It always by the surprise in Mrs. Topham's eyes to reminds me of a church, with those dark a statement that she felt afterward was beams, and the stained-glass windows, though entirely too intimate. “We go everywhere the ceiling is pretty low, to be sure. You together.” 558 Everybody's Magazine “Oh, I thought he belonged to ” Mrs. piled cushions invited her to rest; only to Topham stared at her unseeingly, as if trying hear, a few moments later, her husband's to reconstruct her ideas. “I fancied I saw. familiar footstep bounding up the stairs. his name. ... Well, of course, you'd know. “You!"' she cried delightedly, starting up. Perhaps then it's of no use our coming over. “Why, what made you come home so soon?” Still, Mr. Derwent might be able to find out “Oh, I don't know!” He took a strand something about Mr. Bloudpole, anyway. I of her hair and drew it through his fingers. really think it would be better for Callie to “I thought I didn't care to play, after all. know something about him, though she doesn't Come and sit down here again on the lounge. feel that it's necessary.” You don't want to get dressed yet.” “Oh, I think you know at once when a “Mrs. Topham and Mrs. Brainerd were person's congenial,” Mrs. Brainerd said in here,” said his wife, looking at him a little her little light voice. “If a person is con- wonderingly. His kind dark eyes, his half- genial that means everything, I think. It smiling lips were just the same; yet she was doesn't make the slightest difference what aware of some hazarding change such as she they do! Now, there's Mr. Derwent. I'd had felt when he had gone out of the door love him just the same if he was a-a-mur- with the purple envelope. derer. Wouldn't you? Mr. Bloudpole is “I met them on my way back,” he an- immensely wealthy—not that that makes anyswered absently.“We had a little talk. difference to me. I'd work my fingers off for That man they spoke of-Bloudpole-was any one I cared for, and I told him so! He kicked out of the Descendents Club four years brought Earl the cutest little toy bear the day ago, and I fancy out of every other club he he came out here. He wanted to buy one of belonged to, poor devil. He's no more busi, the big ten-dollar ones, but they were all out of ness coming around Mrs. Brainerd than- them in the shops. Mr. Bloudpole is very But I'll stop that off in short order. She'll delicate; that's why I don't want to put off do as I say." our marriage longer than next week.” Mrs. “Mrs. Topham seemed to have such an Brainerd's light eyes suddenly became moist. odd idea that you belonged to the Descend- “Mrs. Derwent, he looks like he'd ought to ents, Murray.” have somebody to take care of him right “Yes, sweetheart.” now." She had put her arms around his neck as “I really think she ought to know some she raised her face to his. “There's some- thing about him," argued Mrs. Topham with thing I've never spoken about to you, but an anguished note of appeal. “Callie's been I'm going to speak now. I saw you take up through so much, Mrs. Derwent, and she's that envelope, and when Mrs. Topham said just about as much of a child as Earl. If that-Murray, I've been proud because you you oppose her she gets so set. She won't had the right to belong to the Descendents, listen to me or to Mr. French. If you'd speak but I've been, oh, so much prouder, because to Mr. Derwent, Callie'd listen to him.” you gave up your right, because you are the “I'll tell him to find out everything he can,” man I wanted you to be. Darling, please said Vera. The attitude of these visitors don't speak yet! I've got to say it all now. toward her was like that of all her husband's I want to tell you that there hasn't been a friends—woman of intellect and beauty and day in all these three years that I haven't distinction as she was, they frankly regarded remembered it some time during that day, her with interest only because she stood the and loved you for it.” Her voice fell to a nearest to him. They saw him through her, whisper. “It's put something into our life and him alone. She tried to be large-minded together. I can't explain; it's been like a enough to be leniently amused at the atti- sign, like a sign of blessing. When I've tude, and busied herself now not only in wanted to be selfish or exacting I've always giving her sympathy, but in ordering some remembered that. Why do you look at me light refreshment, although it was so early, this way?" because Murray liked her to offer it to them. “You're making it very hard for me, “Mrs. Topham always has to get things for Vera,” said her husband. other people to eat, poor soul,” he had ex- She saw, with a fearing contraction of her plained. heart, that his eyes had a sort of a mist over . After they had gone she went up at last them as he took her face in both his hands to her room, where the lounge with its high- and raised it up toward his. “Do you know N “I THINK I'LL LEAVE YOU TWO TOGETHER NOW," SAID VERA. 559 560 Everybody's Magazine why I couldn't play golf to-day? It was be- cause I had to come home and tell you some- thing. Maybe you won't like me any more when I've finished, Vera. I've belonged to the Descendents Club for three years." “You!” “Yes.” He stopped short. There was a silence that seemed as if it could never, never end, before he went on at last, slowly: "I don't know whether I can make you under stand, dear. Somehow I couldn't give it up; that's the whole story. When I thought of the honor of it-it meant so much to me, it had come down through such a long line to me, the last of the blood, and I'd never known it before!—I couldn't let it go. I didn't mean to keep it from you at first. I've always decided things for myself; it seemed only natural. And then I wanted to show you, dear, that though I belonged to the club, I'd never go to another dinner there unless you were willing. I wanted to prove myself—and I never have been, not once. I never will go unless you feel that you are willing—that you can trust me. I had to have all the notices from the club sent to the office. I don't know how that letter got here to-day. When you kept asking me if I told you everything, oh, it hurt, Vera! It made me feel such a- " “And you've deceived me all the time,” said his wife with white lips. She had been flushing and paling alternately beneath his intense, searching gaze. “You've deceived me all the time.” “Yes.” “How strange! When I believed - How strange!” She pushed him from her, and rose, pushing him again from her mechan- ically as he tried compassionately to put his arms around her. “No, please don't touch me. I've got to think. It seems as if it couldn't be you. Oh, I mustn't talk that way!” She looked at him, struggling to make some wonted loving effort in the midst of her anguish. “You have told me now- haven't you?-you needn't have—you could have deceived me always-so very easily!” Her mouth trembled piteously. “You needn't have told me at all. I must remem- ber that. I ought to be very nice to you now, because you won't want to tell me anything ever again if I make it so hard for you. Will you? I don't want to make you afraid to tell me things.” “Don't, dear, don't!” He had snatched her to him, and was holding her head against his breast as if to shelter her from everything that could hurt; with little murmurs of love and remorse between his kisses, to which she made no response. It seemed as if she didn't hear him, as if she could listen only to her own thoughts, which fought together so hard that they were nearly killing her. She wanted only to be left alone. Even when he was called out of the room by a message, she was not enough alone. She hurriedly put on her little blue felt cap and her fur-lined jacket, and slipped down the stairs and out of the door very softly, and then up the path that led to the wooded slope behind the house. Never since her marriage had she gone out of the house and left him alone in it. She walked swiftly until she came to the edge of the slope where a jutting rock made a seat under an oak-tree. With her back against the brown tree trunk and a pool of crackling yellow leaves at her feet and under her hand she sat sheltered, looking into the pale blue, misty vista of the sky, trying to be alone enough to think. It seemed as if all that had made their married life was crumbling into ruin. If it were ever to stand firm again there must be some new element to keep it steady; she didn't know what. She couldn't get rid of this sense of confusion through which she was trying to pierce. Murray had been deceiving her all these years. Had she only imagined that she understood her hus- band? Did a woman ever really understand a man? Did he ever understand her? What quality was there about Murray that was beyond all but her most momentary, most heroically striving comprehension? What made him enjoy the company of all those low people, enjoy different things from those she liked, made it possible for him to laugh and joke as he did with Ellison French, and decide without thinking about her "as he always used to do.” He had been a man grown, no boy, when he married her. Why should he naturally seem to make a plane of separateness for himself to which she could never follow? She wanted no separateness for herself? Oh, it wasn't the deception that gave the worst, the most rankling thought! That made a clear wound that she knew she could love enough to heal, after a while, that she must love enough to heal. The deepest, rankling thorn was that underthought that this didn't end the matter—that perhaps more still, something else, was required of her. He would not go to any of those ban- The Measure 561 quets unless she were willing. He had his black hair, large thin nose, and full- wanted, however clumsily, to prove himself lipped mouth-been more repugnant to her. to her. For what end? That thought was She could always feel that he held her slight- torture. How could he ask it of her? Could ingly, and was impatient of her presence, she ever be willing? Would it be right for through all his outward respect. His very her to be so, even if she could possibly bring glance cheapened her. How could Murray herself to it? All those days and nights when care for him? she had believed one thing and he had known Yet to-night as she sat there, she tried the other kept coming up and pushing her with almost theatrical heroism to be carelessly husband from her. Wasn't that enough? gay. Her husband's eyes sought her hum- He had hurt her so much! Yet she knew he bly, pityingly at intervals, beseeching her not was suffering more almost than she in that to suffer so much. She felt as if it were the anguished knowledge that she was hurt, and old, old game of souls, and as if she were play- by his hand. ing for something very high. The table set She felt that she could never go back to the itself grotesquely before her as a chessboard. house, yet she went at last. The dishes of olives and almonds and candies He was looking out for her and came to were pawns, the long thin vase in the center meet her himself, with clasping fingers that with its crimson flowers was the queen; the she felt had been longing to touch hers. two candelabra were the kings. She must “Where have you been?" move something, but she didn't know what, "Just out in the woods." any more than she knew what she was saying “You never went off like that before." or listening to, until toward the close of the His dark eyes bent upon her searchingly. long meal some words of Ellison French beat “Vera, oh, Vera, my poor, poor girl, my poor, stingingly through that outer guard of un- darling girl. How can you ever forgive me?” consciousness. “Oh, I have, I have forgiven. Don't talk “For Heaven's sake, Murray, let Callie that way,” she murmured painfully. “I Brainerd make a fool of herself in her own must be worthy of your confidence. There's way if she wants to. She's bound to do it only one thing I must know.” She tried to some time, anyway. But if you're set on keep her tone natural, but it changed, in seeing Bloudpole, kick him all you like, but spite of her, to a tense appeal. “You said don't give him money. He'll only keep you wouldn't go to one of those dinners un- bleeding you if you do." less- Was that a notice of one that you . “Why should Murray give him money?” got to-day? Did you want to go to it?” asked Vera. He met her gaze with instant candor. Mr. French's eyebrows went up. “When “Only if you are willing, dear. It's Ellison's you've known your husband as long as I last night there for a good many years. have, Mrs. Derwent, you won't ask that They'll give him a send-off. I'd like to be question." with them. But I wouldn't care for it an “It seems to me that I know him better instant, it wouldn't give me any pleasure than any one else can,” said Vera, flushing. unless I could feel that you were really will- “Don't pay any attention to him, Vera," ing; believe that." said her husband, laughing. “I'd hate to "I do,” she whispered with a cessation of think that either of you two knew me as well pain for a moment. “But I must do what as that. I'm really quite a complicated char- is best. You won't mind if I don't decide acter!” until later, until after dinner?” “Oh, a man's friend knows him as no one “No, no,” he responded. else ever does,” said Ellison in a superior Ellison French came early to talk to her tone. “Look at Stillwell. You and I know husband. She herself didn't go down until that a finer fellow never breathed, yet that dinner was ready, dressed in the black lacy miserable little twopenny wife of his wants gown that made her white fairness, the blond to leave him. Why, if I'd been a woman, profusion of her hair, and the purity of her I'd have been crazy over that man!”. profile the more apparent. Yet even the “I think I'll leave you two together now,” candle-light couldn't gloss over the little fine, said Vera formally, though she was trembling. nervous wrinkles on her temples, and at the side of her mouth. Never bad Mr. French's She had been up-stairs a long while, in the presence—the sinewy perfection of his figure, half-darkness of the dimmed lights, listening 562 Everybody's Magazine , " to the murmur of the voices below. Once When they went down-stairs to Mr. French, she heard Murray laugh-he had a dear she saw by the questioning eyebrows of the laugh-in that absurd, surprised, infectious latter, as Murray shook his head, that Mur- way that Mr. French always made him laugh. ray was telling that his wife wouldn't let him Yet after a time she was aware of Murray's go to the dinner. step once more coming up the stairs. In all “I'll meet you at the wharf on Tuesday this fateful day no interview with him left morning,” he said, and, Vera's light farewells the world as it had been before. What spoken, the two men struck hands in a long change was there to be now? clasp that seemed to hold in it the very heart He sat down on the edge of the lounge of friendship. gropingly. His hand felt for her face and French took off his hat to her as she joined rested against her cheek. There was some- her husband in the open doorway, where thing in the delicious gentleness of his touch Murray stood looking after his friend. There that seemed to hold in it the very finest, the was a mocking, discrediting smile on the face very dearest quality of love, and to give prom- of the departing guest that flicked her like a ise of unknown joys to come, before he said: stinging whip. It said, “You've won,” not “Dear, will you come down-stairs and bid with congratulation, but contempt. Ellison good-by?” She and Murray went back into the library. “Yes, in a minute. Murray, oh, Murray, He yawned slightly, and took up a large book you know I want you to do everything you on steam boilers as he seated himself in a want, but, It isn't because you didn't, big isolated chair away from the arched fire- didn't tell me, my dearest" Her anguished place. With his unfailing sweetness he held eyes, seen now in the dim light, besought him out his hand absently to her once as she with all her soul in them to understand, and passed him on her way out, and then became his soul met hers clearly, helpfully, half-way. absorbed in his book. In spite of his sweet- “No, no, I know that.” ness he seemed, as she looked at him, to have “But it doesn't seem right for me to lost something, some possibility of power It's letting you run into temptation if I do! which had been always felt as his greatest, if Oh, Murray, I can't say yes! I can't. Dear, latent, charm. He seemed to have shrunk believe me that I would if I could, but I to a lesser content. can't. I could never, never be happy if I Oh, she had decided rightly, her woman's did.” reason and her earnest conscience approved, “All right,” he assented instantly. “I and yet, and yet-she had a strange, momen- thought you'd feel that way. We won't say tary, appalling vision of some clear, trans- any more about it, sweetheart.” figuring height of comprehension and trust “Oh, do you mind very, very much?” beyond, that she hadn't been able to reach- She clung to him. as if for that instant she saw what endless “Oh, no. It's all right. We won't say beauty there might have been for both her any more about it.” He kissed her tenderly and Murray in that pathway if she could -so tenderly. What was there that seemed have reached it! If life had shrunk, was it to be gone from his kiss? to her measure? Autumn By ARTHUR STRINGER THE thin gold of the sun lies slanting on the hill; 1 In the sorrowful grays and muffled violets of the old orchard A group of girls are quietly gathering apples. Through the mingled gloom and green they scarcely speak at all, And their broken voices rise and fall unutterably sad. There are no birds, and the goldenrod is gone. And a child calls out, far away, across the autumn twilight; And the sad gray of the dusk grows slowly deeper, And all the world seems old! 564 Everybody's Magazine “Besides I'm always afraid that some of rather dispirited, but she had not reached the my young ones will fall into that lake," said sidewalk when her mother appeared hurriedly Ma; “I shan't have a minute's peace while at the door. she's gone.” “Opal,” yelled Ma Flickinger, “wait a "If she goes and falls into the lake and minute." drowns, she won't feel so funny over her “Yes, Ma.” * trip,” was Jule's parting shot as she started “Don't go close to the lakeI'm as 'fraid home. as death of it; and don't take off your shoes "I dunno as you ought to go, Opal,” said and stockings no matter what the Webers her mother, when the little girl came down say; and keep your hat on your head; it's stairs, gorgeous in her pink shirt-waist, wine- safest there if you lay it on the sand some- colored worsted skirt, shiny vermilion belt, body might steal it while you wasn't lookin'; and great flapping straw hat, heavy with and don't spend anything but for car fare; faded cotton roses. and come home as early as you can.” “Why?” Opal's heart beat distressingly. “Yes'm," answered Opal, and started “Well, it's hot; and I need you here to pull again. But she had a dull feeling that she bastings out for me; and Jule wants to sew was doing a very selfish thing, and that her on her new green lawn, but there's nobody father had not really wanted her to have the to tend the babies; and Mandy said somethin' money. about your lookin' after Butch while she Ma Flickinger cut and basted, and basted went down-town. It seems about the worst and cut, then with a whirring abstraction time you could have took-but I don't know,” rushed her sewing through the machine. gave in Ma, noticing Opal's downcast face. Flies gathered on the outside of the screen “Yes,” she added suddenly, “go on; Pa give door. The air in the close, stuffy house, you the money. Take it and go. We'll git heavy with the odors of many meals and along some way. dusty carpets, "But that dulled her head twenty-five cents and made her would git me a listless, but she new calico Moth- kept nervously at er Hubbard her work. a pron,'' con- “Opal! Where's tinued Ma Flick- Opal?” shouted a inger absently to boy's voice. herself; “my old “Opal's gone one is in slits; I to St. Joe,” said haven't washed it Mrs. Flickinger on a board for a as her small month--it'd fall grandson, Clar- to pieces if I ence Augustus, did. What're you commonly called waitin' for, Butch, looked in Opal?” through the “Maybe I'd screen. better not go,” "Where's said Opal, stand- that?" asked ing irresolutely in Butch idly. the doorway. “You know “Go! Land where it is,” an- sakes, ain't I said swered Ma;“over 'yes' a dozen by the lake.” times; ain't you “When'd she got that quarter оu dосон аалал go?” continued your pa give you Butch, undis- tied in your hand- couraged by his kerchief? Goon.” grandmother's Opal started, " YOU'LL BAKE THEM TWINS," CRIED JULE. shortness. ZA Opal's Half-Holiday 505 “After dinner.” have led one to suppose that he was sorry; “What'd she go over there for?” inquired it was with conscious pride and vainglory Butch. As an interlocutor he might have that he went about crying, “Opal's drowned!” made a fortune if mere number of ques- Soon the yard was full of voluble neigh- tions counted. bors, questioning, "To see the sympathizing, lake,” said his pa- commenting. Jule tient grand- was in her ele- mother. ment. It is doubt- “She'll fall in," ful if she had ever observed Butch experienced a sagely, sitting more triumphant soberly on the half-hour. For her porch and striking mother seemed at the flies on the dazed and only screen with a spoke brokenly switch. now and then; As his grand- while Elvie, com- mother said noth- ing over with ing, he asked, Beulah in her “Won't She fall arms, sobbed in, Gramma; say, openly; and Man- Gramma, won't dy, Butch's moth- she?" er blubbered "I dunno-yes, & You Wol.com adams dolefully; so to I suppose so," an- Jule it was left to swered Ma ab- entertain the sently, without crowd on the realizing what he "I DUNNO AS YOU OUGHT TO GO, OPAL." lawn. Of course, said. Jule felt sorry, too; A shrill cry broke through the buzzing of but the joy of being for once in her life im- the machine. “Good gracious!” cried Ma portant outweighed grief. For poor Jule, who Flickinger, starting up from her work, had married at fourteen, was scarcely less of “who's hurt?" and darted out of the house a child than Butch, and she still longed with just in time to meet Jule, breathless and very all the force of her starved nature for notice red in the face, pushing one baby in the and praise. rickety old cart and carrying the other doubled “Opal was such a good little thing,” said over her arm. soft-hearted Elvie between her sobs; “Beu- "Ma, oh, Ma! Opal's drowned in the lah'd go to her as quick as she would to me lake!” cried Jule wildly. or her pa." “Drowned!” Ma Flickinger sank weakly “Opal took more care of the twins than on the porch steps and wrapped her hands ever I did,” declared Jule truthfully. in her apron; for suddenly she was cold and “She never complained and she worked sick and unable to stand. She had known like a slave all the time," moaned Ma Flick- all the time that one of her children would be inger. "I never had a cross word from that drowned in Lake Michigan. child. And I fairly begrudged her that “Yes,” shrieked Jule, “Opal's drowned twenty-five cents," she added remorsefully. herself. Somebody over there 'phoned to “Opal's looked after Butch ever since he Fairy Jones's mother, and she jest came over was a baby," said fat Mandy; “Butch'll miss and told me. And they've 'phoned to Pa at her awful.” the factory, and he's gone over.” “And she never went nowhere,” cried Jule, Butch eyed his Aunt Jule in open-mouthed transferring her own pet grievance to Opal. astonishment. At last, however, getting it “Pa's been promising her to go to St. Joe into his somewhat thick head that Opal was for years." drowned, he immediately proceeded with the Butch was enjoying himself to his fullest important news to the nearest neighbors; extent. “Opal's drowned!” he yelled, spy- but nothing in his mode of delivery would ing Fairy Jones, who was coming toward the 566 Everybody's Magazine house. Fairy's red pigtails, which hung in hungry, washed silently at the hydrant, and, thick braids from her top-heavy head, were slouching with awkward clatter into the almost the same color as her fat, freckled, house, took their places at the table. They red cheeks. took no interest in Jule's account of the ex- “She ain't neither drowned,” contradicted citement; they had heard it all from sympa- Fairy, with placid superiority. thetic neighbors before they got home; now “She is, too,” shouted Butch angrily. they wanted to eat. “Shut up," advised Fairy loftily. "Mis Opal came hurrying in just as the family Flickinger," she began importantly, having began their supper. made her way through the crowd till she “Did you muss your hat?" demanded her stood in front of Opal's mother, “my mamma mother. told me to tell you that it ain't Opal that's “Not much," answered Opal. But as one drowned at all; they just 'phoned from St. of the Weber girls had inadvertently sat upon Joe that it's somebody else.” it while she had it off for a moment to smooth The burden of her errand removed, Fairy her hair, it looked rather lopsided.. stared with great, wondering pale-blue eyes Ma grabbed the hat and eyed it critically; at Ma Flickinger, who suddenly slumped in but she spoke so kindly that Opal was sur- a heap on the porch steps in a faint. prised: “Well, it won't last more than this Jule, grabbing up a decapitated drum that summer anyway; cotton roses fade som Butch had left on the grass, filled it with they're too delicate to last a day in the hot water at the hydrant and, with the help of sun. Set down and eat, Opal; you must be officious neighbors, brought Ma back to con- hungry.” sciousness. “Think you're smart, don't you, Opal," “It give me a turn," said Ma shortly, when remarked Jule, "to have folks 'phoning all she could talk, evidently displeased with her- over the country that you're drowned in the self for showing so much emotion. “I hope lake, and then turnin' up without a drop of Opal didn't muss her hat or have it stole; I water on you? It seems to me--" worried all the afternoon about letting her “That's enough of that blab," interrupted wear it.” Pa Flickinger gruffly. “Opal ain't to blame The neighbors trailed off one by one, re- for a fool kid thinkin' it was her and 'phon- calling other cases of people who had been ing in." drowned or reported drowned in Lake Mich “I suppose there wasn't nobody drowned igan, while Ma made hasty preparations for at all,” observed Jule sourly. supper. “A kid did fall in—but she come to-about "Folks talk more foolishness through the the size of Opal; that's how it was, if you've 'phone," declared Jule, who was surrepti- got to hear every blamed detail,” growled tiously crying for joy over a piece of bread Pa, who, himself knowing just how every- and jam, which she was eating with much thing had happened, was through with the relish in Ma's pantry. “All this fuss came whole matter, and wanted to eat his supper through the 'phone. Some folks'd 'phone in peace. for the police if a fly fell into the water-pail.” Butch stood outside, pressing his nose Just then Pa Flickinger, tall and bowed, against the screen. Nobody noticing him, he shuffled into the house. yelled absent-mindedly, “Opal's drowned!” Ma and Jule looked at him expectantly; “Shut up," shouted Pa Flickinger. but he only said shortly, “Supper ready?” “Had your supper, Butchie?" questioned “Where's Opal?” demanded Jule. Ma, whose chief pleasure in life was to feed “Back a piece, talking with Mis' Jones. people. Supper ready, old woman?” “Naw,” grunted Butch. “Wash yourself and it will be," answered “Opal, get a plate. Here, Butchie, crowd Ma from the kitchen where she was flying your chair in between me and Opal.” swiftly about to make up for lost time. “Jule here?” inquired a meek voice out- “Better eat with us, Jule, seein' you're here.” side. “I guess I will,” said Jule, who was dying “Yes, I am," answered Jule. to know how it happened that Opal was not “I ain't saw no supper down our way.” drowned. Milo, the father of Janice and Jasper, spoke Bill, the eldest son, and Jed, next older mildly. He was a stooped young fellow, and than Opal, came home from work, tired and looked dead tired. Opal's Half-Holiday 567 "No," called Ma hospitably,“ Jule's eatin' bread and jam: “St. Joe's a mighty slick lit- here. Opal, git another plate. Wash your- tle place in the summer-time." self at the spout, Milo, and come in.” “Bill's got a girl over in St. Joe," unex- “What you got to eat?” inquired Milo, pectedly announced Butch, who was a per- rather to be polite than because he wanted fect treasure-chest of precious bits of gossip. to know. “Shut up,” growled Bill, but he could not “Pork and beans and johnny-cake," an- help grinning to think that the knowledge of swered Ma briskly. “Come on.” Sophie Budzbanowsky had percolated into “Don't care if I do,” said Milo, and sham- Loretta Avenue. bled out to the hydrant; and soon returning “They've got a baby railroad train over with very red hands and face, was wedged there,” went on Pa Flickinger, “drawed by in between Bill and Jed. a engine no bigger than half a decent-sized The family all ate ravenously-excepting one." Ma, who scarcely touched her supper—with “Well say!” cried Ma, interested at once. a great clatter of knives and forks and dishes. “And a toboggan slide, and a big pavilion Opal sat eating silently, wondering over the with a band, and walks that's fairly lined strange tale that the neighbors had told her with tintype galleries. I was a-goin' to say of her mother's fainting. She had expected that is—I ain't been over there for ten to get a good cuffing-a favorite mode of year,” concluded Pa lamely. He had evi- punishment in Ma's family—or even a whip- dently intended to say something else, but ping, for causing so much trouble; but she could not work himself up to the point. found every one strangely friendly; nobody “I ain't been to St. Joe but once since the even scolded her. day I was mar- Ma had not ried,” remarked minded about the Jule gloomily. crumpled roses. “There's the Pa had stopped dangdest little long enough in merry-go-round his hasty stowing there,” continued away of victuals to dump her out "Is't got real such a generous horses, Gram - supply of beans pa?'' asked that, had she Butch. eaten them all, “No, Butchie, they would have they're only taken her off with fakes.” Then Pa as much despatch cleared his throat as Lake Michi- unnecessarily, gan, had she real- and blurted out: ly fallen in. Jed, “I've got an in- with untold self- vite over to St. sacrifice, stuck on Joe to a picnic." her plate a pork “What pic- rind which he nic?"gasped Ma, had found in his utterly surprised. beans, a courtesy It was years since that he had not she had been to a shown her since picnic. she had the “The boys in measles. And "OPAL'S DROWNED IN THE LAKE!" our factory is Bill, after help- goin' to have a ing himself liberally to jam, spooned out picnic on Labor Day, and we're all invit- almost as much for Opal. Coming from ed.” Bill, this was a wonderful condescen- “Are you invited, Milo?" questioned Jule sion. breathlessly. Finally Pa broke out between his bites of “Pears like it,” mumbled her husband, Pa. 568 Everybody's Magazine with his meek eyes deep in the cracked cup "I'm goin' home to work on my green that held his tea. “I work where your Pa lawn,” cried Jule, starting up from the table. does.” “Bring it over here and I'll help," volun- “Then out with it. Why didn't you tell teered Ma generously. me before? I'm goin'.” As for Opal and Butch, they said not a “Of course we can't any of us go,” said word, but listened greedily. Opal for once Ma regretfully; “but it would be nice if we was really happy; in fact, the whole family could. I ain't been to St. Joe since Opal was happy; and clumsy pleasantries were ex- was a baby.” changed as Pa and the boys slouched out- “It's only a mile on the street-car from doors to rest. down-town,” grinned Bill. The air was full of plans for the picnic, “I kinder thought, seein' the boss men- though Labor Day was a week off. Elvie tioned me and the family particular-like, that and Mandy, hearing the news, came over to we'd better see if we couldn't go,” said Pa. discuss the basket dinner; and Pa Flickinger, “And then when I went over and got Opal peacefully smoking his pipe on the porch, and saw how they've got things laid out there, helped out with a word now and then, acting I jest made up my mind that we'd all go.” as an authentic encyclopedia, corrected to “'Twon't cost nothin',” said Milo, unex date, on the attractions of the resort. pectedly supplementing his father-in-law;“the Ma Flickinger, forgetting the presentiment boss he pays for the street-car." that one of her children would be drowned “We might go,” said Ma, uncertainly, to in Lake Michigan, stitched away on Jule's herself. green-striped lawn by the flickering light of “If we wa'nt asked special-like” began a small, smudgy kerosene lamp, a very happy Pa, and then weakly stopped. woman indeed. For life—just life—toil- "That does make a difference,” admitted some as it was, with everyone safe and well, ма. was not such a bad thing after all. Away from Town . By HARRY H. KEMP I TIGH-PERCHED upon a box car I speed, I speed to-day; 1 I leave the gaunt steel city some good green miles away, A terrible dream of granite, a riot of streets and brick, A frantic nightmare of people until the soul grows sick. Such is the high, gray city with the green live waters round, Oozing up from the ocean, sobbing in from the Sound. I'd put up down in the Bowery for nights in a hobo bed, Where the dinky “L” trains thunder and rattle overhead; I'd tramped the barren pavements with the pain of frost in my feet; I'd sidled to hotel kitchens and asked for something to eat. But when the snows went dripping and the young Spring came as one Who weeps because of the winter, laughs because of the sun, I thought of a limpid brooklet that bickers through reeds all day, And made a streak for the ferry, and rode across in a dray, And dodging into the Erie, where they bunt the box cars round, I peeled my eye for detectives and boarded an outward bound; For you know when a man's been cabined in walls for part of a year, He longs for a place to stretch in, he hankers for country cheer. FIT Visita VILE TLEMING A Row of Books By JOHAN BARRETI SOMEWHERE in his “De Profundis” Oscar Whatever may be our responsiveness to art Wilde says, “We are no longer, in Art, concerned (whether of the big or the little A) and however with the type. It is with the exception that we ready we may be to be carried out of ourselves have to do." This is one of the keenest and most by its large simplicities or to have our atten- explanatory of his critical observations. It lays tion turned inward by its later self-analyses, we the unhesitating finger of the skilled diagnos- are all at one in the demand to be amused or tician upon the seat of both the strength and the entertained between the acts. And fortunately weakness of modern literature. It places “The we are not forced to go unsatisfied. For those Ambassador” no less accurately than “David who like aristocratic “turns,” C. N. and A. M. Harum.” However, since the late comers in litera- Williamson offer “ The Princess Virginia” (Mc- ture must take the vacant seats, it is necessity, not Clure, Phillips) as a sort of “Zenda” a la 1907. choice, that has driven us, so to say, to the micro- I suppose we all have a lingering weakness for scope and the X-ray for our study of life. But we princes and princesses, carried over from our still listen gladly to the man who has something fairy-tale days. Else it were hard to explain the unsaid to say on the bigger issues. This, I take it, long line of successful stories of this type. The is the distinctive element in the work of William present one is both brightly told and passably de Morgan, whose “Alice-for-Short” (Henry original. Indeed, there is little that is reminis- Holt), least formal and academic of recent fic- cent or réchaufje about it, beyond “Rhætia's” tions, has yet certainly made the most catholic Ruritania-like vagueness on the map of Eu- and profoundly human appeal of any novel of the rope. Another pleasant rehandling of a much- present season. If you ask what it is about, one handled theme is Richard Harding Davis's “The can only shrug one's shoulders and say that it is Scarlet Car" (Scribner). Mr. Davis enjoys a about men, women, and ghosts. But one can reputation that is interesting because, to the eye add that it deals with sentiment without being of the sober-minded, it is without visible means sentimental; with pathos without being pathetic; of support. He is, as it were, the matinée idol that it treats of weaknesses but is never bitter; of current literature, whose sole function, ap- with virtues and is never maudlin; that it is full parently, is to be debonair and to wear his fiction of humor yet is never witty. I think, too, that as though it were the adornment and not the one may indicate the book's greatest shortcom- source of his attraction. The present story meets ing, from the point of view of fiction at its best these requirements to perfection. It is an auto- and broadest, by saying that the most vital per- mobile love story in three rides, written with fin- sonality that one meets with in its pages is that ished offhandedness, and breaking through the of Mr. de Morgan himself. It is less his charac defenses of the public's susceptibilities at their ters than his attitude toward them, less their weakest point—their ready sympathy with a traffic with life than his comments on it, that pair of lovers who are up to date. touch the fundamental and stamp him an inter- preter of the type and not an expounder of the exception. But, for all that, he has a touch of greatness. Let us therefore feast and be thank “The Wingless Victory” (John Lane), by M. ful. We are told that he is a man of over sixty P. Willcocks, is another of the recent novels and we are sorry to hear it. Had he begun to which, while it ranges itself very definitely on the write younger he might not have written so ripely; modern side of Oscar Wilde's line of artistic but, beginning to write so late, we are conscious cleavage, is of more than average merit. It is a of a selfish fear that he may not write enough. book which one reads with growing absorption, 569 570 Everybody's Magazine even with a passing enthusiasm of acquiescence in the author's insight. And if its characters are, after all, likely to lose themselves quickly in the crowd of our memories, our sympathies and our judgments are likely to retain the impress of their acquaintance. It occupies, in fact, the middle ground between the common, or garden, novel and the fiction of full literary and interpre- tative achievement. It is a story of homely De- von folk whose special problems and individual struggles between the weaknesses of the flesh and the strength of the spirit are no mere daub in local colors, but are allied to the special struggles and problems of us all. Its women, especially, are presented with a clearness that holds the in- terest and with an understanding that broadens our own. But the book is unfortunate in what (in a literary sense) may be termed the social self-consciousness of the author. She begins each chapter, as some people begin each conver- sation, with the weather; and one has, as it were, to remake her acquaintance after every interrup- fession. His book is certainly open to no such accusation. He wrote a good deal of it on the spot while accompanying an ill-assorted, caught- as-catch-can party, led by a moon-gazing and unpractical professor, making an unsuccessful assault upon Mt. McKinley, Alaska, over an un- known trail from the coast. It is written in an atmosphere of wet horses, burned flapjacks, sub- arctic mosquitoes, and sweat; and has the interest which attaches to any genuine and "shameless” self-revelation. It gives, very graphically, the reverse of the explorer's medal. But it is no less one-sided for that, and we are willing to wager that Mr. Dunn himself will, a year hence, look back upon his own experiences with much of the pleasant illusion which he decries. tion. W. W. Jacobs is possessed in full measure of that most comfortable attribute, dependability. When we pick up a new volume of his amphib- ious sketches, we address ourselves to them with much the same satisfied anticipation of famil- iarity and surprise with which we prepare to lis- ten to a well-known air rendered, with variations, by a virtuoso. The waterside gentlemen and coastwise skippers who meet us in his pages are the air. The troubles in which they proceed to entangle themselves, and which follow upon their characters as inevitably as the laws of har- mony, are the variations. And Mr. Jacobs him- self, with his inimitable technique, is the virtuoso. His new book is called “Short Cruises” (Scrib- ner) and its twelve stories move on characteristic lines. The quizzical oddity of his characters and the absurd likelihood of their adventures still end in sudden and conventional bow-knots of dénouement which should, but do not, spoil the humor of them. And if his latest work is no better than his first, it is (which is really sufficient ly remarkable) just as good. The horrible and the uncanny are so seldom evoked with anything approaching artistic or psychologic effect that, as one looks back upon the experience of reading a story by H. G. Wells called “The Island of Dr. Moreau” (Duffield), one is more and more inclined to call emphasized attention to it. The story, which is a reprint, having originally been published a few years ago-is horrible, uncanny, and gruesome. But the horrible and the uncanny undoubtedly pos- sess a well-defined and, I think, a legitimate attraction for the mind. They are bound up with the experiences of the race. They, or the possibility of them, lurked always in the un- known, and, even now, they lend to the mys- terious its chief esthetic thrill. Are not most of us conscious of an emotional loss in outgrowing our terror of the dark? This account of the island of Dr. Moreau, and what went on there, is supposed to have been found among the papers of an English gentleman, who was ship- wrecked in the South Seas and was picked up, apparently deranged, from an open boat some eleven months after his disappearance. The period of his absence had been passed on a small island where a scientific fanatic and his assistant had for many years been experimenting in vivi- section and surgical patchwork. They had, if one may so express it, manufactured a commu- nity of monstrous animals endowed, more or less bunglingly, with human form, and imbued with a more or less tentative travesty of human in- telligence. In the description of these monsters, in the glimpsing of their bestial yet cunning minds, and above all in the subtle hinting of the whole tale at a satirical and sardonic double meaning, Mr. Wells has called to his aid both his vivid and constructive imagination and that ar- tistic restraint that knows the value of suggestion. We were speaking, a month or two ago, of Dillon Wallace's “The Long Labrador Trail,” an interesting account of difficult pioneer ex- ploration. Mr. Wallace, I think, conveys in his narrative a fair composite impression of tne ex- plorer's sufferings in the endeavor, and gratifica- tion in the retrospect, of his achievement. But Mr. Robert Dunn, the author of “The Shame- less Diary of an Explorer” (Outing Co.), evi dently thinks that all explorers are liars in that, once safely home again, they wilfully minimize the discomforts and magnify the glories of their pro- The literary career and personality of Mr. Thomas Dixon, Jr., have borne more than a super- A Row of Books 571 ating theses with blue ribbons. There has crept into Mrs. Black's later work a subtle but unes- capable flavor of disintegrating sensibility, which is neither disguised nor made up for by the rather obviously grandiloquent strain of symbol- ism and the supernatural which ran through “The Genius” and is continued in “The Prin- cess.” The present novel is effective and en- grossing; it reaches, once at least, a striking height and fulness of dramatic situation; but it dies in the memory intestate and without issue. ficial resemblance to a comet. Not only did his first and spectacular appearance from outer space, some five years ago, excite feelings of ad- miration and awe in the minds of the impression able, but it even aroused recurring discussion in speculative circles as to whether, if the literary world ever actually met the nucleus of the new luminary, it would burst into flames or pass through unconscious of the encounter. Mr. Dixon has just published the third novel in his Trilogy of Reconstruction. It is called “The Traitor” (Doubleday, Page) and deals with the suppression of the Kuklux Klan in North Caro- lina. And it enables us to pronounce with con- siderable definiteness that the elements of this particular comet's effulgence are gaseous matter and momentum. “The Traitor," to drop the simile, is an essentially theatrical story, effective enough in outline, but deliberately loaded with cheap sentiment and tawdry sensationalism. It has swing to it. It moves in an environment full of the possibilities of passion. Yet one cannot but feel that its crudities are calculated and its solecisms intentional. In short, taken in con- junction with the author's previous work, it sug- gests, not a mere following of the line of least re- sistance toward spectacular superficiality, but a purposed pandering to the cravings of shallow emotionalism. OTHER BOOKS “Beatrix of Clare”—(Lippincott). A revival of the earlier form of the historical romance of chivalry and love. A graceful tale by John Reed Scott "Jerry Junior”—(The Century Co.). A bright little comedy-romance by Jean Webster. Utterly ephemeral, but suited to an inconsequent mood. “Through the Gates of the Netherlands” — (Little, Brown). A volume of appreciative “snooping” through the highways and byways of Holland by Mary E. Waller. “East of Suez" (The Century Co.), by Frederic C. Penfield. The record of a trip from Egypt through the Orient, by a traveler of an ob- servant and statistical bent, who enjoyed excep- tional opportunities. "Bar-20” (Outing Co.), by Clarence E. Mul- ford. A cowboy story whose pages are a human shambles. “My Life as an Indian”—(Doubleday, Page). A volume of authentic and interesting reminis- cences by J. W. Schultz, who spent many years with the Blackfoot Indians and married one of Readers of an investigative turn of mind-the kind who never meet a solar eclipse in a work of fiction without turning up the almanac to verify the date--will need to provide themselves with the latest edition of the Almanac de Gotha before sitting down to enjoy Margaret Potter's story of Russian royalty, "The Princess" (Harper). The author, with her remarkable knack of what small boys call “boning up” upon any subject that has arrested her versatile imagination, seems to have persuaded herself, and goes far toward persuading her readers, that she is the confidante of all the Romanoffs from the reigning Czar to the humblest cousin of the house. The tragic story of a double liaison in St. Petersburg which has resulted is magnificent as an example of “cheek" and is by no means without its human interest as an emotional drama. But Margaret Potter is paying the penalty of precocious talent. One does not, with impunity, write “Uncanon- ized” when one's generation is binding gradu- them. “To the Credit of the Sea”—(Harper). A connected series of good stories from the life of a Gloucester fishing skipper, written by Lawrence Mott. “German Ideals of To-day” -(Houghton, Miffin). A collection of excellent papers upon modern German art and literature, by Kuno Franke. 1 PON LOVE ILLMING Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree EDITOR'S NOTE.-A good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. Our read. ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. Though the sign is the Chestnut Tree, no story is barred by its youth. The younger the better. We shall gladly pay for available ones. Address all manuscripts to “The Chestnut Tree." An aged Jersey farmer, visiting a circus for the first time, stood before the dromedary's cage, eyes popping and mouth agape at the strange beast within. The circus proper began and the crowds left for the main show, but still the old man stood before the cage in stunned silence, appraising every detail of the misshapen legs, the cloven hoofs, the pendulous upper lip, and the curiously mounded back of the sleepy-eyed beast. Fifteen minutes passed. Then the farmer turned away and spat disgustedly. “Hell, there ain't no such animal!” This last was too much. “I'll not,” the candidate declared defiantly. “I'll stay single.” “Single?" inquired the doctor, puzzled. “Single," repeated the Irishman with determi- nation. “Sure an' what's all this funny business got to do wid a marriage license anyhow?” He had strayed into the wrong bureau. “John, John," whispered an alarmed wife, poking her sleeping husband in the ribs. “Wake up, John; there are burglars in the pantry and they're eating all my pies.” "Well, what do we care,” mumbled John, roll- ing over, “so long as they don't die in the house?” A big, husky Irishman strolled into the Civil Service room where they hold physical examina- tions for candidates for the police force. “Strip,” ordered the police surgeon. “Which, sor?” “Get your clothes off, and be quick about it,” said the doctor. The Irishman undressed. The doctor measured his chest and pounded his back. “Hop over this rod," was the next command. The man did his best, landing on his back. “Double up your knees and touch the floor with your hands." He lost his balance and sprawled upon the floor. He was indignant but silent. “Now jump under this cold shower.” “Sure an' thot's funny," muttered the ap- plicant. “Now run around the room ten times. I want to test your heart and wind.” The foreman and his crew of bridgemen were striving hard to make an impression on the select board provided by Mrs. Rooney at her Arkansas eating establishment. “The Old Man sure made a funny deal down at Piney yesterday," observed the foreman, with a wink at the man to his right. “What'd he do?” asked the new man at the other end of the table. “Well, a year or so ago there used to be a water-tank there, but they took down the tub and brought it up here to Cabin Creek. The well went dry and they covered it over. It was four or five feet round, ninety feet deep, and plumb in the right of way. Didn't know what to do with it 572 Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree 573 In May she generally goes away for a week or two and returns with a tall, red calf with wabbly legs. Her name is Rose. I would rather sell her to a non-resident." until along comes an old lollypop yesterday and gives the Old Man five dollars for it.” “Five dollars for what?” asked the new man. "Well,” continued the foreman, ignoring the interruption, “that old lollypop borrowed two jacks from the trackmen and jacked her up out of there and carried her home on wheels." “What'd he do with it?" persisted the new man. “Say, that old lollypop must've been a Yank. Nobody else could have figured it out. The ground on his place is hard and he needed some more fence. So he calc'lated 'twould be easier and cheaper to saw that old well up into post- holes than 'twould be to dig 'em." Thereafter the new man bit more on his food and less on the conversation. A new cabby had taken up his stand at Union Square. “Gettin' in a new horse?" asked one of the old- timers, eying the bony nag critically. “Aw, wotcher givin' us!” "See yer got the framework up already.” A Southern lady who had been frequently annoyed by her darky cook's having company in the kitchen, remonstrated with the girl, telling her that she must entertain her friends in her own quarters after working hours. One evening soon after this the lady left the girl arranging the dinner-table and went to the kitchen for something. A great, hulking darky was sitting in the kitchen rocker. Indignant, the lady hurried back to the dining-room. "Cindy," she demanded, “what have I told you about having your beaux in the kitchen?” "Laws, miss, he ain't no beau! Why, he's nuffin' but my brudder.” Somewhat mollified, the lady went back to the kitchen. “So you are Cindy's brother?” she said kindly. “Law bless yo', no, miss," he answered. "I ain't no 'lation 'tall to her. I's jes' keepin' comp’ny wif her.” The lady, angry through and through, sought out Cindy again. “Cindy," she asked sternly, “why did you tell me that that man was your brother? He says he is no relation to you." Cindy looked aghast. “Fo’ de Lawd's sake, miss, did he say dat? Jes' yo' stay here a minute an' lemme go look agʻin!" It had been anything but an easy afternoon for the teacher who took six of her pupils through the Museum of Natural History, but their enthusiastic interest in the stuffed animals and their open- eyed wonder at the prehistoric fossils amply repaid her. "Well, boys, where have you been all after- noon?" asked the father of two of the party that evening. The answer came back with joyous prompt- ness: “Oh, pop! Teacher took us to a dead circus." A Coney Island fortune-teller was trying to persuade a farmer to have his fortune told. “It's only a quarter,” she urged, “and if I don't tell you your name right you get your money back.” “Humph,” grunted the farmer suspiciously. “What in tarnation do I want you to tell me my name for? I know it already." One of our readers, looking over an old scrap- book recently, came across the following ad- vertisement written by the late Bill Nye: “Owing to ill-health I will sell at my residence in township 19, range 18, according to govern- ment survey, one plush raspberry-colored cow, aged eight years. She is a good milker and is not afraid of the cars nor anything else. She is of undaunted courage, and gives milk frequently To a man who does not fear death in any form she would be a great boon. She is very much attached to her house at present by means of a stay chain, but she will be sold to any one who will use her right. She is one-fourth short-horn and three-fourths hyena. I will also throw in a double-barreled shotgun which goes with her. “Once when I was going out to visit some friends," says Mark Twain, “I told George, my negro servant, to lock the house and put the key under a certain stone near the steps. He agreed to do so. “It was late at night when I returned. I went to the stone under which the key was supposed to have been hidden. It was gone. I hunted around for about fifteen minutes, but still no key. "Finally I went to George's house-he roomed 574 Everybody's Magazine outside-and rapped vigorously upon the door. A black head, which I had no difficulty in recog- nizing as George's, popped out of an up-stairs window. “Where did you put that key, you black rascal?' I roared. "Oh, massa,' answered George, 'I found a better place for it.”” In “Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree,” in the August number, we told the true story of the now famous Postage-Stamp Joke and the Seven Honest Persons. Incidentally, we announced that we were holding in trust a check for $1.98 for the man who could prove himself the lawful parent of that joke, or his heirs. Now comes a sequel to the story, from which it would seem that at last we have found the man who told the man who told the man-etc. Anyhow, the following letter looks to us like a good claim for the $1.98 and the authorship of a Good Thing: A teacher in a New England school had found great difficulty in training her pupils to pronounce final g. One day when a small boy was reading, 18 he came to a sentence that he pronounced as follows: “What a good time I am havin'!” “No, Johnny,” interrupted the teacher, "you made a mistake. Don't you remember what I've been telling you? Try that last sentence again." Johnny reread as before, “What a good time I am havin'!” “No, no," said the teacher a little impatiently. “Don't you know all I've told you about pro- nouncing the g?” Johnny's face lightened, and he began again, confidently: “Gee, what a good time I am havin'!” When Mr. Jones's seventh son was born, there was great rejoicing. Two or three days after the event, one of the neighbors, meeting Tommy, the eldest son, asked if he were not sorry that his baby brother was not a baby sister. Tommy shook his head. “No ma'am, not me!” he replied with great decision. “Y' see we're tryin' for a baseball nine." Editor of EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE. DEAR SIR: Concerning the joke about the young man, the postage-stamp, and the correspondence school: One morning last January, Ralph Tilton, whose originality no one doubted, came into my studio and told Franklin Adams and me of a young man whom he had just seen in a drug store buying a stamp, and who interested him by the queer manner in which he stamped an envelope. Ralph gave an elaborate imitation of the lisping chap and of the finicky care he exercised in licking and placing the stamp. This convulsed both Adams and me. “Now, what do you suppose the fool was trying to do?" asked Ralph. I suggested that he probably had been studying the Language of Flowers, or Handkerchief and Stamp Flirtation, and maybe it meant “We must part” or “Beware of a tall dark man." Tilton replied, "No. I think he belonged to a correspondence school, and that was his college yell.” This is the joke that Ralph built. We all agreed that there was a story. I handed it around for sev- eral days and it finally reached Hamilton King, who is the first recorded narrator of the yarn. There may be a thousand indorsements yet to go on the check, and it might look like a paving petition if one tried to trace through all the missing links between its inception and the time it got to King, for verily a new story travels faster than does scandal. “Where do all the jokes come from?” is a bro- midic query even among traveling salesmen, and Mr. Robert H. Davis truly says that “no man ever yet got on the trail of a joke and brought up any- where in particular.” But I should like it recorded that Franklin Adams and I are probably the only liv- ing persons who really sat right there and officiated at the birth of a joke. The pity of it all is that the creator of this jest can- not take part in this merry quest, even though I feel that his natural modesty would have deterred him from revealing what he would call his " guilt." Therefore I beg you to accept this as authority, and to credit this comparatively meager mot-con- sidering his many other brilliant accomplishments- to the late Ralph Tilton. Very truly, SEWELL COLLINS. New York, July 22, 1907. Senator Knox told this story at the Elks' con- vention in Philadelphia: A delegation from Kansas visited President Roosevelt at Oyster Bay not long ago. The President met them with coat and collar off, mopping his brow. "Ah, gentlemen,” he said, “dee-lighted to see you. Dee-lighted. But I'm very busy putting in my hay just now. Come down to the barn with me and we'll talk things over while I work." Down to the barn hustled President and delegation. Mr. Roosevelt seized a pitchfork and-but where was the hay? “John!” shouted the President. “John! where's all the hay?" "Sorry, sir," came John's voice from the loft, “but I ain't had time to throw it back since you threw it up for yesterday's delegation." Everybodystoagazine PUBLISHED BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY ERMAN J. Ridgway, President John O'Hara Cosgrave Wm. L. JENNINGS, Sec'y and Treas. Ray BROWN, Art Director Editor ROBERT FROTHINGHAM, Ado. Mgr. 31 EAST 17TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY With “Everybody's" Publishers THIS country,” an old man once said to Then we'll run the line up to take in La Fol- 1 us, “is just like an overgrown boy. lette of Wisconsin, and Johnson of Minne- It's awkward and ungainly; it's as full of sota, and bring it back to Folk in Missouri. conceit and bumptious knowledge as a Social. Then we could jump to Denver for Ben Lind- ist; it has a tremendous smoldering strength, say, and end in San Francisco. We are and”—he paused a second—"and all the moving some. Perhaps we can overturn the pimples are on top.” lid metaphor, so familiar in recent cartoons. Often since we've thought of that. Mr. It's the grafters who are struggling to keep Wister's article on the scurrile graft in the the lid down just now. building of the Capitol at Harrisburg- -in Let's look the question in the face and re- this number—reminded us of it. The more port progress. There's no danger of over- we think of it, the truer it seems. Now, we confidence from a recital of the few victories as a country are 131 years old; 131 is to 15— we have won. The fight has only just be- for a pimply boy might be guessed at as 15 gun. Does anyone know where we are? -131 is to 15 as x is to 25—the age of de- To-day, we're in a position of some precari- veloped manhood. Breathing hard over the ousness. The stock market has broken bad- algebra, we find that x=87,—why, we won't ly. Credit—the breath of business life—is be a full-grown nation, really civilized, and hesitant. The future looms up uncertain. in our young manhood, ready fully to assume What we need is coolness, temperance, san- our responsibilities, till 1994! And in the ity. We have passed through the first bitter mean time, there are a good many pimples stage in which our prejudices and passions in sight; now, aren't there? have been involved. We should now move Aren't we a busy people? There is scarce- forward justly, sincerely, with the work. We ly a state or city that hasn't its crusade against want clear thinkers for our leaders. We need Graft. It is bubbling up in most unexpected Matthew Arnold's places. We have Winston Churchill fighting One common wave of thought and joy the railroads in New Hampshire, and Heney Lifting mankind again. and Spreckels fighting municipal corruption in San Francisco. They're 3,000 miles apart. And it is this clear thinking that is our aim We could plot a line-if plotting a line were for the magazine for 1908. We shall do the not so much a bore-following the course of best we can to present the sanest type of crit- anti-graft agitation. New Hampshire, Rhode icisms on national conditions, and to point Island—both losing fights. Hughes in New out with the clearest minds we can get the York with his Public Utilities Commission, diseases and the cures; but we can only do probably the most remarkable feature of this it gropingly. It is hard to see the way. It ten years' fight; Colby and Fagan in New is still harder to get the right people to show Jersey; the half-smothered revolt in Penn- it to us. But in the November number we sylvania; Tom Johnson and Brand Whitlock have an article by William Hard, on “Mak- in Ohio; Judge Landis and his $29,000,000 ing Steel and Killing Men,” which is exactly suggestion to the Standard Oil in Illinois. the type of material we want—the presenting 575 576 Everybody's Magazine of a case with discernment and justice and is not like de Maupassant except in the re- fearlessness. When you get through with markable cleverness and brilliancy with which Mr. Hard's article, you will know both sides his plots are worked out; but in his expression, of the story, and you will be able to reach an in his individuality, and in his humor, he is honest judgment. pure American. To know 0. Henry is a joy. But if we wish to reflect in our pages the We were at work to-day trying hard to get state of the country, we must show both sides a trenchant characterization of Mr. Wister's of the shield. You must have noticed in the article on the looting of the Capitol at Har- magazine for the last twelve months a num- risburg. We were making progress-back- ber of articles that were intended for up- ward, when Mr. Henry came in. builders. You saw stories of James J. Hill "Help! Help!” we called to him. “We and of George Westinghouse-upbuilders of want a sharp epitome of our Harrisburg ar- the Republic. These men are not perfect. ticle. Come on in.” You know that. So do we. But we claim H e thought a short minute and then said, that they are essentially creators, and not “Why don't you call it ‘The Capital Crime manipulators. Admitting his faults, what a by Harrisburglars'?”. wonderful empire Hill has added to our Mr. Henry is a slow producer; many country; and in these days of American lead- magazines to-day are claiming stories of his ership in engineering works, how high stands for publication. They can't get them. We Mr. Westinghouse in his vast contribution have published more O. Henry stories in to our added wealth. We have now under 1907 than all the other magazines put to- way more of these studies-in individual con gether. We now have two more of his stories tributions to our civilization. on hand, and both the November and Christ- If you subscribe for EVERYBODY's for 1908 mas numbers will contain his work. you will stand behind this policy; you will find, we believe, some explanation and illu Our love of a laugh has helped and will mination of our present troubles; and more help this nation over rough places and dan- than all, you will get suggestions for con gerous situations. The case of Mr. Eugene structive methods of correcting these evils. Wood might well typify our national use of humor to ease the ugly spots of life. Mr. Wood boarded a car one night on his way TARKINGTON AND O. HENRY home, seating himself near the front door. We mean to reflect the literary life of A burly and combative-looking chap, stand- the country. We mean to get for you the ing against the door, was whistling badly out best fiction of our writers. Whether their of tune. Mr. Wood stood it for a time and names are known or unknown, we want the then began to give signs of annoyance. best. We have begun by securing from “Maybe you don't like my whistling," Booth Tarkington a serial written during his said the man threateningly. last year in Paris. We should say that if there “I don't,” replied Mr. Wood. is any man among the young writers of Amer- “Perhaps you're man enough to stop it,” ica to-day whose work in breadth of view, said the fellow angrily. in characterization and in technique, can well "Perhaps not, but I hoped you were,” be compared with the best modern French replied Mr. Wood. writers, it is Tarkington. Perhaps the most And he was. distinguishing element in the story is its We've had a strong blend of humor in the charm. It is nearer “Monsieur Beaucaire” last year. We're planning to have more of than “The Gentleman from Indiana"; but it it. We've told you of Mr. Henry. We shall is not like either of them. It is new and have Mr. Wood. Joe Lincoln, with his original, working out a dramatic and absorb- • homely, lovable Cape Cod characters and ing problem, and throughout it runs a sweet clean-cut and wholesome fun, has won a warm and wholesome bit of love-making. We are place in all hearts. Broughton Brandenburg congratulating ourselves that Mr. Tarkington has more of his circus stories to tell. Hugh has selected our pages for his story. And there is O. Henry, who is perhaps the Emerson Browne, who wrote. “Daly, the purest type of short-story writer in America Troubadour,” are closely allied to us. to-day. His work has been compared with There'll be lots of humor in the coming year. de Maupassant's. But this is not fair-he GILMAN HALL, Associate Editor. melure that Mr. Tarkington Pendexter, with his ingenious sun, com V IVA Ver SUM NOVEMBER Our new serial, begun on page bor, is by Booth Tarking ton. That is guarantee of a story at once charming, subtle, and finely writ- ten. But"The Guest of Quesnay" is all that and more-actually a problem, a mystery, much entanglement, and the second birth and regeneration of an individual under conditions as curious as they are romantic. But don't dream it is another adventure story. This drama occurs amid still waters. A group of the most en- gnging and delightful cosmopolitans leisurely unravel its com- plexities. A love affair quite strange and beguiling is the woof of the web, and there emanates from it all something of that same delicacy and exquisiteness of feeling which made the fascination and the triumph of "Monsieur Beaucaire." cor .1 WEBIURK Copyright, 1907, by Wm. Balfour Ker. THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN HOME. II. THE NEW HOME-ALONE AT LAST! EVERYBODY'S MAGAZ INE Jouse Vol. XVII. NOVEMBER, 1907. No. 5. Making Steel and Killing Men By WILLIAM HARD EDITOR'S NOTE.—“The English idea with regard to blast-furnaces is to run mod- erately and save the lining. What do we care for the lining? We think that a lining is good for so much iron, and the sooner it makes it the better."— Charles S. Price, Superintendent of the Cambria Steel Works at Johnstown, Pa. Forty-six men were killed in accidents last year in the South Chicago plant of the United States Steel Corporation. There was no great casualty. The largest number killed at any one time was four. Two other accidents accounted for two men apiece. All the rest were killed singly. During the course of the year, therefore, there were forty-one separate accidents that resulted in the destruction of the one valuable thing in the world, human life. - From records of Chicago Coroner's Office. Have we in America the same attitude toward human beings that we have toward the linings of blast-furnaces ? Do we think that a man is good for so much iron and steel, and the quicker he makes it the better? Must he then go to the graveyard just as the lining of the blast-furnace goes to the junk-heap? THE South Chicago plant of the United prisonment, like fleeting spirits, to the clear 1 States Steel Corporation stretches along air above. But these things are mere modi- the shore of Lake Michigan for a distance of fications of the central theme, which is smoke, about two miles northward from the broad a mountain of smoke, or, rather, a cave of mouth of the Calumet River. smoke. For the mountain is hollow, and in This plant, as you see it from the deck of a its interior ten thousand men are at work. yacht out in the lake, is just an opaque mass Here, in the smoke on the north bank of the of smoke, thirty million dollars' worth of Calumet, forty-six men performed their final smoke. You may descry, it is true, certain earthly act last year. Here, at the edge of the dim outlines of multitudinous buildings, like plant, just inside the high white board fence, the faint surmises of a dream. You may be stands the company's private hospital, with diverted by the long rows of slender smoke- fifty beds, a chief surgeon, two assistant sur- stacks, rearing their heads through the smoke geons, an interne, and three nurses. Here, in and standing shoulder to shoulder at rigid the inquests held in the undertakers' shops in attention as if they were about to salute. You the neighborhood of the plant, the United may be thrilled by the three thin, wavering States Steel Corporation, in the person of the tongues of flame that spurt up from the Illinois Steel Company, was censured six throats of the Bessemer converters and fight times last year by coroner's juries. Here, at their way through the thick layers of their im- the time when ten men were injured in the Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. TEET GENERAL VIEW OF BLAST FURNACES. The furnaces show ſaintly on the left. In the rounded structures is heated the air afterwarıls criven through the furnaces. pig-casting department, the Building Depart for every man killed, four were disabled ment of the City of Chicago was forced to in- temporarily, which, in the German statistics, tervene and to admonish the company that “a means for at least thirteen weeks. little diligent thought and precaution on your If the law of averages is the same in Chi- part would minimize the occurrence of such cago as it is in Berlin (and there is no reason to accidents.” Here the number of the dead, suppose that it isn't), the record of casualties who are reported to the coroner, furnishes the at the South Chicago plant of the United only clue to the number of the merely burned States Steel Corporation would read as fol- crushed, maimed, and disabled, who are re- lows: ported to nobody. Dead.. ............ ....... 46 But let us make an estimate (and it will Disabled temporarily (for at have to be a rough one, for there are no local least 13 weeks)............ 184 statistics) of the number of men burned and Disabled permanently........ 368 crushed and maimed and disabled in the plant of the Illinois Steel Company last year, as Total. ................. 598 compared with the number of men actually killed. The record of the long battle in the cave of The best statistics on such subjects are smoke on the north bank of the Calumet those of the German Government, which, as it River for the year 1906 would therefore pre- has established a system of compulsory in- sent 598 killed and wounded men to the con- surance, is in a position to know exactly what sideration of a public which would be ap- is happening in the manufacturing establish- palled by the news of the loss of an equal ments within its jurisdiction. number of men in a battle in the Philippines. From these statistics (covering a period of And it should be remembered that the esti- twelve years) it appears that for every man mate here given does not include any of those killed in Germany there were eight who suf- men who suffered injuries which disabled fered a permanent disability of either a partial them for a period of less than the thirteen or a total character. It further appears that weeks above mentioned. If such cases were 580 A RAIL-MILL IN OPERATION. The white streaks which show so vividly in the foreground are hot rails. included, the total number of casualties would exceptional proves nothing. But the plant in be enormously increased. Minor accidents South Chicago is just an American plant, are far more numerous than those of a serious conducted according to American ideals. Its nature. The total number of all accidents, officials are men whom one is glad to meet major and minor, at the plant of the Illinois and proud to know. And yet in the course of Steel Company would certainly be more than one year in their plant they had at least 1,200 twice as large as the number of major acci- accidents that resulted in the physical in- dents which we have already computed. jury, the physical agony, of human beings. If, therefore, 598 men were involved last Must we continue to pay this price for the year in major accidents, entailing, at the least, horor of leading the world in the cheap and a disability of thirteen weeks each, there must rapid production of steel and iron? Must we have been at least 1,200 men who were in continue to be obliged to think of scorched volved in accidents of all kinds. Doctors and scalded human beings whenever we sit on who have been employed in the hospital of the back platform of an observation-car and the Illinois Steel Company place the number watch the steel rails rolling out behind us? even higher. They have said that there are Is this price necessary, or could we strike a at least 2,000 accidents every year. But better bargain if we were shrewder and more many of these accidents extend only to the careful? painful scorching of a leg. If the figure be A partial answer to these questions will kept at 1,200, it will be a conservative esti- suggest itself as we go along. We shall learn mate, including only those injuries that may something by leaving general statistics at this be legitimately regarded as being of material point and by descending to particular indi- consequence. vidual instances. When the American Insti- Here, then, is the record of one American tute of Social Service tells us that 536,165 industrial establishment for one year! It is not Americans are killed or maimed every year in an establishment that enjoys any pre-emi- American industry, our minds are merely nence in heartlessness. If it were, there would stunned. But the specific case of Ora Allen, be no use in writing an article about it. The on the twelfth day of December, 1906, has a 581 SS333333 CASTING-FLOOR OF A BLAST-FURNACE. The tapping-hole is under the big pipe in the center. The very white place on the floor is molten iron flowing from the tapping-hole across the casting-floor to the ladles. THE INTERIOR OF A PLATE-MILL. The picture was taken by the company's photographer just after one of the plates had fallen on a man's foot. 582 THE POURING-FLOOR OR PIT IN THE NORTH OPEN HEARTH MILL. The furnaces are on the right. The pouring-stand is on the left. It was on this floor that Ora Allen lost his life. The traveling crane, operated by his brother, may be seen overhead. " HOT TAMALES." Massive Steel Ingots being transferred inside the yard by a dinky engine on a narrow.gauge track. 583 584 Everybody's Magazine poignant thrust that goes through the stunned Allen, up in the cage of his 100-ton electric mind to the previously untouched recesses of crane, was requested by a ladleman from be- the heart. low to pick up a pot and carry it to another Ora Allen is Inquest 39,193 in the Coroner's part of the floor. This pot was filled with the Office in the Criminal Court Building down- hot slag that is the refuse left over when the town. On the twelfth of last December he' pure steel has been run off. was a ladleman in the North Open Hearth Newton Allen let down the hooks of his Mill of the Illinois Steel Company, twelve crane. The ladleman attached those hooks miles from down-town, in South Chicago. to the pot. Newton Allen started down the On the fifteenth he was a corpse in the floor. Just as he started, one of the hooks company's private hospital. On the seven- slipped. There was no shock or jar. Newton teenth his remains were viewed by six good Allen was warned of danger only by the fumes and lawful men at Griesel & Son's undertak- that rose toward him. He at once reversed ing shop at 8,946 Commercial Avenue. his lever, and, when his crane had carried The first witness, Newton Allen, told the him to a place of safety, descended and hur- gist of the story. ried back to the scene of the accident. He On the twelfth of last December Newton saw a man lying on his face. He heard him Allen was operating overhead crane No. 3 in screaming. He saw that he was being roasted the North Open by the slag that had Hearth Mill of the Illi- poured out of the pot. nois Steel Company. He ran up to him and Seated aloft in the turned him over. cage of his crane, he · “At that time,” said dropped his chains and Newton Allen, in his hooks to the men be- testimony before the neath and carried pots jury, “I did not know and ladles up and it was my brother. It down the length of the was not till I turned pouring-floor. him over that I recog- That floor was 1,100 nized him. Then I saw feet long, and it looked it was my brother Ora. longer because of the I asked him if he was dim murkiness of the burned bad. He said, air. It was edged, all 'No, not to be afraid along one side, by a -hewas not burned as row of open-hearth fur- bad as I thought.'” naces, fourteen of Three days later Ora them, and in each one Allen died in the hospi- there were sixty-four tal of the Illinois Steel tons of white, boiling A BLAST-FURNACE. Company. He had told iron, boiling into steel. his brother he wasn't From these furnaces “burned bad,” but Ira the white-hot metal, Miltimore, the doctor now steel, was withdrawn and poured into big who attended him, testified that his death ten-ton molds, standing on flat-cars. When was due to a “third-degree burn of the face, the molds were removed, the steel stood up by neck, arms, forearms, hands, back, right leg, itself on the cars in the shape of ingots. These right thigh, and left foot.” A third degree ingots, these obelisks of steel, cooled to solid burn is the last degree there is. There is no ity on their outsides but still soft and liquid fourth degree. within, were hauled away by locomotives to But why did the hook on that slag-pot slip? other parts of the plant. Because it was attached merely to the rim of It was a scene in which a human being looks the pot, and not to the lugs. That pot had no smaller than perhaps anywhere else in the lugs. It ought to have had them. Lugs are world. You must understand that fact in pieces of metal that project from the rim of the order to comprehend the psychological aspect pot, like ears. They are put there for the ex- of accidents in steel-mills. press purpose of providing a proper and secure On the twelfth of last December, Newton hold for the hooks. But they had been broken This photograph was taken just after an explosion that killed five men. Making Steel and Killing Men 585 off in some previous accident and they had utterance to the whole philosophy of Ameri- not been replaced. On the twelfth of last De- can business life. He said: cember the ladleman had been obliged to use “We guess that when a trestle's built it the mere rim, or flange, of the pot, and with ought to last forever. And sometimes we that precarious attachment the pot had been guess ourselves into the depot. And some- hoisted and carried. times we guess ourselves into hell.” "Is it dangerous to carry a pot by its The company will tell you, very straight- flange?" asked the deputy coroner. forwardly and very honestly, that it is impos- "It is,” said Newton Allen, “but it is the sible to prevent the men from being reckless, duty of the ladleman to put the hooks on the that it is beyond human power to prevent pot. I work on signal from him.” the men from hooking up slag-pots by their Mike Skiba, the ladleman, being sum- flanges. The men get in a hurry and they moned, testified that he had attached the become careless. hooks to the pot by the flange, but that he There is a good deal of truth in this obser- had no orders against attaching them in that vation, as I shall show later. The men do get way. careless and, under our outdated but unre- John Pfister, the boss ladleman, Mike pealed laws, the carelessness of a ladleman, Skiba's superior, said, on oath: “I have no resulting in the death of a fellow ladleman, orders not to raise the slag-pots when the lugs will relieve the company from all money lia- are broken off.” bility for that ladleman's death. It is impos- George L. Danforth, the superintendent of sible that men in steel-mills should not grow the North Open Hearth Mill, an expensive careless. It is part of the inevitable psycho- man, who might himself have been killed on logical consequence of working next to a the occasion in question, because his duties three-mouthed monster with sixty-four tons of oblige him to frequent all parts of the mill, boiling metal in its insides. But suppose, just testified that “pots had been raised in the suppose, that instead of being relieved from manner described for three or four years and all money liability by the carelessness of a that this was the first time that one of them ladleman toward a fellow ladleman, suppose, had fallen." just suppose that the company had to pay a What did the jury think? It thought as flat fine of $20,000 every time a ladleman was follows: killed. Do you think that any slag-pot would “We, the jury, believe that slag-pots should ever be raised by its flange? not be handled without their lugs, and we That is the real question. And the answer recommend that the lugs be replaced before is, No. The United States Steel Corporation the pots are used in the future.” has too much ability, it has done too many So came to an end the case of Ora Allen, wonderful, too many almost impossible things, burned to death by the slag from a pot that to fail in such a project of prevention. But was being hoisted by his brother. Was it a the cold fact is that there is no adequate necessary tragedy? Was all that agony, all incentive to the prevention of carelessness the horror that filled the soul of Ora Allen's among employees. There is a perfectly ade- brother when he turned him over and recog- quate incentive to the prevention of laziness. nized him, was all that wait of three days for The lazy employee is discharged. Let society death in the hospital, a necessary incident in once provide the capable intellect of the the production of steel? The coroner's jury United States Steel Corporation with a suffi- evidently did not think so, although such a cient reason for preventing carelessness, and it jury is notably reluctant to utter a censure. will be the one best bet of the age that there As I read the testimony and afterwards will be no more carelessness in any of the looked at that gigantic, that deafening and United States Steel Corporation plants. hypnotizing North Open Hearth Mill, my T he forty-six men who were killed last year mind was carried back to the American loco- in the South Chicago plant of the United motive engineer who astonished Mr. Kipling States Steel Corporation went to their deaths when he was on his first visit to this country. by a large number of different and divergent The train was just starting across a trestle routes. Twelve of them were killed in the that looked as if it were ready to crumble neighborhood of blast-furnaces. One of away, on the slightest provocation, into the them was hurled out of life by a stick of mountain torrent beneath. Mr. Kipling re- dynamite. Three of them were electrocuted. monstrated, and the engineer, in reply, gave Three of them were killed by falls from high 586 Everybody's Magazine places. Four of them were struck on their but who fortunately recovered. He described heads by falling objects. Four of them were his accident succinctly as follows: burned to death by hot metal in the Bessemer “No choo choo! No ling ling! No God Converter Department, where, as in the Open damn you get out of the way! Just run Hearth Department, iron is transformed into over!” steel. Three of them were crushed to death. One of them was suffocated by the gas from a The only death-dealing force that ex: gas-producer. One of them was thrown from ceeded the railroad last year in the Illinois an ore-bridge by a high wind. One of them Steel Company plant was the blast-furnace. was hit by a red-hot rail. One of them, Ora There are eleven blast-furnaces in the plant. Allen, was scorched to death by slag. And Each of them is a fire-brick and cast-iron ten of them were killed by railroad cars or giant a hundred and fifty feet high and con- by railroad locomotives. taining from six hundred to a thousand tons This last fact seems most extraordinary, of tumultuous material. When you feed it at most inexplicable, until an inspection of the its top with coke, limestone, and iron ore, you plant is made. There are about one hundred cannot tell exactly what is happening inside and thirty miles of track in that plant, broad- it, until, from the tapping-hole at its base, you gauge track, narrow-gauge track, stretching withdraw the pure iron and the refuse that across open spaces, wiggling between dead is called slag. Its digestive tract is too long walls, swerving around corners, darting and too well concealed. A blast-furnace is through buildings, running in twenties, run- like a human being. When it is in trouble ning in couples, climbing up to the mouths of you have to make a diagnostic guess from the the Bessemer converters, descending to the outside. level of the lake shore, creeping across the On the ninth of last October, at about ten Calumet down and away to Indiana. o'clock in the evening, Walter Stelmaszyk, a And there are cars, cars carrying coke, cars sample-boy, went to one of the blast-furnaces carrying limestone, cars carrying ladles of to get a sample of iron to take to the labora- liquid iron, cars carrying pots of hot slag, cars tory. He stood at one of the entrances to the carrying ingots of red steel. platform. The bright, liquid iron was run- And there are locomotives, all kinds of ning out of its tapping-hole and flowing in a locomotives, all the way from the through sparkling, snarling stream along its sandy bed freight locomotive that can haul eighty cars of to the big twenty-ton ladle that stood beside coke to the little “dinky” locomotive that the platform on a flat-car. Walter Stelmaszyk looks like a toy and that hauls the steel ingots stood still for a moment and gazed at this from the Bessemer and Open Hearth Depart- scene. It was well for him that he hesitated. ments to the rail-mill, the slabbing-mill, the Suddenly there came a flash, a roar, and a blooming-mill, the billet-mill, and the struc- drizzle of molten metal. Milak Lazich, An- tural-shape mill. drew Vrkic, Anton Pietszak, and Louis Fuer- . At the south end of the plant there is a high lant lay charred and dead on the casting- bridge that spans a series of switching-tracks. floor. Elsewhere the men go across at grade. What was the cause of the accident? There are danger signs, but it is useless to The expert witnesses, employed around the expect a Slovenian who has worked all day blast-furnace, all agreed that the hot metal in the heat and glare and stress of a blast- had come in contact with water. furnace to pay much attention to a danger And how did it come in contact with water? sign, especially if he doesn't know how to Here, again, the expert witnesses were in read, which he usually doesn't. There will agreement. be more bridges and a few subways in the About two months before the accident, the South Chicago plant of the United States keeper of the furnace had called the attention Steel Corporation before that corporation is of the foreman to a little trickling of water many years older. As things stand to-day, around the tapping-hole. An examination the men have come to expect the danger signs was made and it was found that some of the to be supplemented by the puffing and clang- fire-brick at one side of the tapping-hole had ing of the locomotive and by the cries of the fallen out. The foreman reported this fact engineer. to his immediate superior. But the fire-brick This point of view was admirably illus- was not replaced. Patches of fire-clay were trated by a man who was injured not long ago substituted for it. These patches were re- Making Steel and Killing Men 587 newed from time to time. They wore out nace was evidently in a dangerous condition. very rapidly. After the accident it was apparently in a still On the night of the ninth of October, ac- more dangerous condition! cording to all the experts at the trial, the How can the Illinois Manufacturers' Asso- fierce molten iron ate its way through the ciation think, when such evidence, given un- fire-clay and came in contact with a water- der oath, is public property, that the State of coil. The union of the hot iron with the Illinois or the United States of America will water resulted in the explosion and in the continue to regard the killing and maiming of sacrifice of four human lives. employees as an entirely private matter be- It is true that no similar accident had ever tween those employees and the company in before happened. The company did not whose service they were slaughtered or in- mean to kill those men. I am making no jured? All sentiments of humanity offer an such foolish charge. But, as in the case of invulnerable negative to that proposition. Ora Allen, I ask the question whether or not And so also, as I shall show later, do all con- the company would exercise a stricter sur- siderations of enlightened selfishness. veillance over the recklessness of its foremen The total number of men killed last year by and workingmen if it had a stronger pecu- blast-furnaces in the plant of the Illinois Steel niary incentive. In other words, if the com- Company was twelve. Not all of these men pany were offered a prize were burned to death. of a million dollars for Some were struck by fly- getting through a year NOTICE ing objects and some were without one single fatal asphyxiated by the gas accident, would it then This building contains DANGER. which constantly escapes allow patches of fire-clay OUS ELECTRICAL APPARATUS. from the pores of a blast- to be used as a substitute All persons not especially author. furnace and which can izod to work on the apparatus are for fire-brick around the hereby prohibited from entering. sometimes be seen, burn- tapping-hole of any fur- FAILURE TO COMPLY ing with a ghastly blue nace in its plant? Would MAY RESULT IN DEATH. flame, along the crevices it not find a way to pre- between the bricks. vent such makeshift NEBEZPEČNO: I am perfectly willing methods effectually and NE CHOC DNUKA BO TAM NEBEZ. PECNO, MOZE TIA UBITI ELEKTRICKA to admit that it is ex- finally? ceedingly difficult to pre- When the accident had VESZEDELMES: vent all exhibitions of happened, the water in recklessness even in cases the coil just next to the SZELYES. NE NYULYON HOZZA, MERT in which the company ROKTONI HALALT OKOZHAT. place where the fire-clay has provided certain had been eaten away and OPAZNO: measures of precaution. where the explosion had OVDJE SE NALAZI OPAZNA ELEK. This is intended to be a TRICKA MASINA (STROJ) NEMOJTE originated was shut off. ICI U NUTRA, MOZE DA VAS UBIJE. fair article. It would do The man who shut it off NIEBIESPECZYNSTWO: no permanent good un- was a pipe-fitter, G. H. less it were fair. And Hunter. JEST NIEBESPECZNA MASZYNA. KTORA WAS MOZSE ZABIC NAMIESTU. recklessness is certainly a “In your opinion,” said psychological characteris- the deputy coroner, 1, A POLYGLOT WARNING DISPLAYED IN THE tic of men in steel-plants. “would it have been safe ILLINOIS STEEL COMPANY'S PLANT. All tradition teaches them to run the furnace before to be reckless. The very this accident with the water a little bit further example of their superiors teaches them to be away from the tapping-hole?” reckless. The assistant superintendent of the “No, sir.” plant that the Illinois Steel Company main- “Is the furnace running that way now?" tains at Joliet stepped on an unprotected gear “Yes, sir.” and lost his leg just after he had warned his “Is it safe now?" men not to be guilty of any such culpable “No, sir, not as safe as it was when the negligence of their own safety. I am willing water was running.” to admit the existence of culpable negligence And it was while the water was running altogether apart from the negligence of the that the accident happened and that the four company. And not only that, but I am also men were killed. Before the accident the fur- willing to give a specific illustration. MASINA. EZ A VILLANYOS GEPEZET VE. NIE CHODZIE DO SRODKA, BOTAM n4-7-07-600 588 Everybody's Magazine I was standing one day on the platform of a blast-furnace. All at once, unexpectedly, I heard the four whistles that indicate danger. There was a “hang” in the furnace. The whirling, eddying mass of ore, coke, and lime- stone in the high interior of that furnace had got caught somewhere, somehow, and was refusing to come down. When it did come down, there would be a crash, and, perhaps, an explosion. I ran and got behind a brick pillar. On coming into the plant that morning I had signed a piece of paper, just the same kind of piece of paper that every visitor signs, saying that I would not hold the Illinois Steel Com- pany responsible for anything that might happen to me. I reflected that nobody would profit by my demise. But observe what the other men around that blast-furnace did! I could see them as I peered out from be- hind my brick pillar. Those of them who were already in front of the furnace looked up at it with an expression of profound curiosity on their faces Two other men who had been standing at the back of the furnace ran all the way around it and came out in front! There they all stood, hurling their mute interroga- tories at the crafty, reticent volcano that might nevertheless the next moment hurl forth an indignant answer at their heads! In a steel-mill there is still another element besides recklessness to be considered. It is this: Most steel-men have come up from the ranks. They have themselves risked their lives. They have become hardened to scenes that chill the blood of the fresh observer. Most steel-men in the United States to-day (and I am talking of steel-men, not financiers) have themselves leaped those flaming streams of angry metal, have themselves dodged the red-hot, writhing steel snakes that hiss through the big cast-iron rolls of the rail-mill on their way to the straightening-beds, have themselves fallen dizzy to the ground with the gaseous breath of the blast-furnace stoves in their lungs. Steel is War. When it is finished it brings forth, for the victors, Skibo Castles and Peace Conferences. But while it is in process it is War. The superintendent of the South Chicago plant of the United States Steel Corporation is a young man named Field, William A. Field. I investigated his career. When he came to the South Chicago plant from Kentucky via Stevens Institute, his first day's work lasted twenty-four hours. When he had worked twelve hours, his foreman said to him: “Run home now and get a bite to eat and be back here as soon as you can." He came back and worked twelve hours longer. To-day they have a fiendish institution at the South Chicago plant called the twenty- four-hour shift. Eighteen hundred men in that plant work for twenty-four hours without stopping, on every alternate Sunday. They begin on Sunday morning and work through without a pause till Monday morning at seven o'clock. In order to keep awake, some of the men cultivate a keen intellectual inter- est in the mechanical processes about them. Others swallow chewing tobacco. It is a frightful stretch of time. But William A. Field not only worked that twenty-four-hour shift on his own account when he was scull- ing ladles (which means cleaning the slag out of them) but, even after being promoted from that menial employment, he has worked seventy-two hours at a stretch without sleep- ing, and has worked one hundred and sixty- eight hours without any other kind of sleep than that which can be gathered from a hard chair in a dark corner. What is the use of talking to a man like that about the severity of a twenty-four-hour shift? When two sheets in the steam-pipe in the pump-room of the rail-mill were blown out and three men and a boy were killed, Field worked from Sunday evening to Wednes- day evening without ever closing his eyes. And then he spent the rest of Wednesday evening at the opera. And when the rail-mill at Joliet was frozen up by a cold winter, Field stayed in the mill a whole week, with a chair for a bed, and kept that mill from complete stagnation at the cost of seven nights' sleep and also at the cost, in all probability, of three or four years of his life. On one occasion Field was knocked twenty feet by a stray crowbar and experienced some difficulty in recovering. On another occa- sion the top of his hat was shaved neatly off by a hot rail which just missed shaving off his scalp. On still another occasion he walked off a dock into the Calumet River and was pulled out just in time. I admire such a man. There is no man I admire more. But I deny that he constitutes a good judge of ordinary human safety for ordinary human beings. He is an exceptional man who enjoys an exceptional reward. He therefore risks his life and becomes superin- Making Steel and Killing Men 589 tendent. The ordinary man risks his life and made in the construction of the plant for the does not become superintendent. It is for purpose of preventing future accidents. The him that measures of safety are demanded. motive in this case is, I fully believe, disin- His only possible reward is a continuance of terested. The present laws of Illinois on the the life that God has given him. subject of industrial accidents furnish no Nevertheless, if you want to understand the other adequate motive. And, on the basis of psychology of a man like Field, just stand in the recommendations of its Safety Depart- front of the three converters in the Bessemer ment, the Illinois Steel Company made three Department. There they swing and sway thousand changes last year in the construction and tip, shaped like the enormous, mythical of its plant. This fact is an eloquent com- eggs attributed to that strange and never-yet- mentary not only on the present awakenment discovered bird called the roc by the Oriental of the company but also on the previous con- authors of the “Arabian Nights.” It is only dition of the plant. the roc that could have laid such eggs. They The operating men who manage the Illinois contain fifteen tons apiece. They receive Steel Company are human beings. They do iron. They produce steel. The metal with not wish to commit either murder or suicide. in them, tossed by currents of compressed But Steel is War. And it is also Dividends. air, boils and bubbles. When they tip over All the operating men in South Chicago, from to discharge their burdens into the ladles be- William A. Field down to the lowest “Huniak" neath, they fill the whole building with flut- who now sculls the ladles that Mr. Field tering sparks and thick, whirling fumes which used to scull, are bound, hand and foot, by the vary in color from light gray to deep orange. desire to produce more steel this month than The clothes of the men in this department are was ever before produced in South Chicago. filled with fine holes burned in them by the The figures that indicate production and sparks. When the ladles are filled, the boil- profits are the only figures handled and ing metal exudes queer little tender blue scrutinized by the members of the board of flames all over its white surface. The men directors of the United States Steel Corpo- call this weird display “the devil's flower- ration. Steel is War. And it is a war in which garden.” With less apparent poetry they the commanding officers as well as the privates have nicknamed the steel ingots in which the are exposed to the immediate fire of the enemy. metal finally leaves the Bessemer Department The greatest steel-man that America ever on flat-cars, calling them “hot tamales.” produced, Bill Jones, was killed by a blast- I make all due allowance for the diabolical furnace. At the time of his death he was draw- hypnotism exercised over the men in a steel- ing a salary equal to that of the President of mill, from highest to lowest, by the over- the United States. He went from this world to whelming majesty of the instruments with the world beyond in company with a dollar-a- which they work. And for that very reason day Hungarian laborer. Bill Jones was the I believe in the intervention of the public au- man who put the United States ahead of thorities, and in the supervision that is ex- Great Britain in the rapid and economical ercised over industrial establishments in many production of iron and steel. And if Bill of the countries of Europe by public officials Jones was killed by a blast-furnace, why not who have not been hypnotized by daily inter- Steve Bragosimshamski? course with Bessemer converters. That is the spirit of the War of Steel. And at the same time I wish to give all due It is not surprising, therefore, that on the credit to the present management of the Illi- sixth of February, this year, the Building De- nois Steel Company. It has shaken itself partment of the City of Chicago, being a de- almost awake from the hypnotism of the partment of peace, was forced to intervene in Bessemer converters. It has devoted itself, the aftermath of an accident in the pig-casting so far as its lights extend, to the reforma department of the Illinois Steel Company. tion of its plant. It has established a Safety Ten or twelve men had been injured. A Department. This department is partly thirty-ton ladle had tipped all the way over selfish, partly philanthropic. It has photog- and had wrecked the roof and sides of the raphers who take a picture of every accident, building, besides subjecting the ten or twelve just as soon as it has happened, for the pur- men above mentioned to considerable bodily pose of furnishing evidence in the courts if the discomfort. relatives of the deceased should sue for dam- During the previous year the company had ages. But it also suggests changes to be made those three thousand changes in its 590 Everybody's Magazine plant. But it hadn't been able to make that for these things society pays. For poverty, pig-casting department safe. Building Com- demoralization, vice, and crime, the price is missioner Bartzen suggested that the thirty- laid down by society either through the gen- ton ladles of hot iron should be anchored to erosity of private individuals or through the the columns of the building in order to pre- expensive and cumbrous action of public vent them from tipping over. The company officials. apparently had not thought of that. Accord- Nothing is gained without its price. If it ing to the public records of the Building is cheap to kill Steve Bragosimshamski, it is Department in the City Hall in Chicago, the expensive to support his wife and family. Illinois Steel Company accepted almost every And since society, in the long run, supports suggestion made to it by the Building Departs that wife and that family, it is inevitable that ment during the régime of Building Com- society shall seek to understand and to pre- missioner Bartzen. But it did not divine vent the industrial accidents which encumber those suggestions on its own account before it with such burdens. they were made. There are two remedies, therefore, that I do not blame the Illinois Steel Company will certainly be applied to situations of the for failing to divine those suggestions. A kind that we have been studying. company whose nose is close up against a The first is complete publicity, including a thirty-ton ladle of molten iron has an almost report to the public authorities on every acci- sufficient excuse. But it is for that very rea- dent, fatal or non-fatal. And the second is son, as I have previously indicated, that I here the granting of power to the public authori- make an argument for public supervision. ties to supervise all machinery in all industrial This argument is based only in part on con- establishments and to suggest and enforce siderations of humanity. For practical pur- such changes, within specified limits, as shall poses it rests on solid motives of self-interest. seem necessary. There is not a single accident that happens A law embodying the first of these reme- to a laborer in the plant of the Illinois Steel dies was passed through the Illinois state leg- Company or in any other industrial plant islature this year in the teeth of violent oppo- without tending, directly or indirectly, to sition. If it is enforced, it will do a world of loosen the strings of the public purse. good. A full public report on every indus- What happens to Steve Bragosimshamski's trial accident happening in the State of Illinois widow? What happens to his orphans, will inform the people as to the character and twelve years, ten years, eight years, six years, proportions of one of the greatest modern four years, two years, six months old? They sources of pauperism, vice, and crime; it will do not evaporate. They do not comfortably stimulate the public demand for the disappear. regulation of all dangerous machinery; it will In eight cases out of ten, as I am prepared cxcite the manufacturers to greater careful- to prove by competent authority, the death ness; and, above all, it will remove that veil of of a Steve Bragosimshamski throws no legal secrecy and mystery behind which the great money-liability on the company. What do manufacturing corporations now operate and the widow and the orphans do? through which the public eye discerns all the Ask the South Chicago Charitable Associa- faults of those corporations with indistinct- tion. Ask the South Chicago Women's Be- ness, suspicion, exaggeration, and hatred. nevolent Association. Ask the Catholic Aid When there is complete publicity with regard Association. Ask the authorities at Glen- to all accidents, the manufacturing corpora- wood, at Feehanville, at the St. Charles Home tions will be more popular than they are to- for Boys. Ask the superintendent of the Hud- day. One of the strongest fostering causes of leston Home for Boys at Ewing. Ask the pro- class antagonism will have been eliminated. bation officers of the Juvenile Court. Ask the I can give an apposite illustration of what I County Agent who distributes coal in winter- mean. time. Ask the police officers of the Fifteenth It is commonly believed in Chicago (and I Precinct station just off Commercial Avenue. have heard it given as a plain fact by scores Ask the officials of the County Poorhouse at of citizens) that the Illinois Steel Company Dunning. Ask the women who keep the conceals a large number of the deaths that houses of ill fame which line the street that happen in its plant and that it buries its vic- runs along beside the high white fence of the tims secretly in mounds of slag. It is also re- company's plant south of Eighty-ninth Street. ported that in the Illinois Steel Company hos- Making Steel and Killing Men 591 pital the patients are barbarously treated, and that while still in the delirium of pain they are forced to sign legal documents releasing the company from all legal money-liability for the accidents in which they were injured These stories are currently reported and im- plicitly credited. And they are absolutely un- true. The company does not, and cannot if it would, conceal any death in its plant. Its hospital is excellently appointed and superbly managed, and the chief surgeon, Dr. Burry, is a man of the highest professional standing and of the most sensitive self-respect. And there is no proof of any kind that Mr. Haynie, the lawyer in charge of the company's dam- age suits, has ever countenanced any extorting of releases from delirious or infirm patients. But I had to disprove these stories by my own efforts. I should never have been obliged to go to that trouble, and the com- pany would never have been suspected of any such abominable practises, if there had always been complete publicity for all industrial acci- dents in all the manufactories of Illinois. The second remedy I have suggested (namely, public supervision of dangerous machinery) was defeated in the last legislature by the Illinois Manufacturers' Association after a long fight in which the representatives of the Illinois Steel Company bore a conspicu- ous part. It was a selfish, short-sighted, in- human fight. The manufacturers claimed to be in favor of the spirit of the bill but alleged that it was unreasonable. Nevertheless they did not exert themselves to suggest amend ments that would have removed its unrea- sonable features. They simply fought it. And they defeated it. In doing so they pre- pared a day of judgment for themselves. By their actions, if not by their words, they have taken the position that the public is not con- cerned with what happens in their plants. I have shown that the public is vitally con- cerned. And when such facts as I have pre- sented in this article, without exaggeration and without malice, are completely under stood, some even more severe bill than that which the Illinois Manufacturers' Associa- tion defeated at the last session of the legisla- ture will be enacted into law and will place all dangerous machinery in all manufacturing establishments under the inspection and su- pervision of public experts. lection of South Chicago will be the under- takers. They made a kind of raid last year on the Illinois Steel Company plant in order to get the trade that comes with the inquests that are held on the corpses from the Illinois Steel Company hospital. Every corpse goes to the nearest under- taker unless the relatives intervene. In con- sequence of this custom it is extremely de- sirable to have a location near the company's big gate. Hence the raid. First Mr. Finerty, from 345 Ninety-second Street, moved down to 168. That move gave him precedence. But it did not last long. Mrs. Murphy abandoned her original loca- tion, moved along the street and settled down between Mr. Finerty and the mills. So far, so good. Mrs. Murphy was ahead of the game. But then came Mr. Adams, all the way from the outside of South Chicago, and swooped down on the corner of Mackinaw and Eighty-ninth. He is the final winner. He is closer to the plant to-day than either Mr. Finerty or Mrs. Murphy. This comic interlude in the grim tragedy of South Chicago remains firmly fixed in the memory of the spectator, like the antics of the grave-digger in Hamlet. More essential in- cidents, more important facts, may fade away and disappear. But when you leave the cave of smoke on the north bank of the Calumet River; when you gaze at all that abomination of desolation in the foreign quarter of South Chicago, where no steel magnate, even though blessing a multitude of distant prairie towns with libraries, has ever left a single discernible trace of benevolence for the people who actu- ally make the steel that pays for the libraries; when you send your mind back over the won- derful, gigantic machinery, the superhuman processes, hidden in the cave of smoke behind you; why, even then, even while all these things are pressing upon your attention, they suddenly slip away from you, and as you take your seat in the train the last image that is presented to you is the race of those under- takers on toward the great gate of the plant. You see them coming closer and closer. You see them settling down and waiting. And then you see the dead bodies coming out from the plant and being carried into the back rooms and being lawfully viewed and having true presentment made as to how and in what manner and by whom or what they came to be what they are now. Is the public concerned? If it says it is, then it is. The only persons who would ultimately suffer by the enactment of such a law would possibly be the undertakers. My last recol- "I RISCUED HIM FROM A HEAP OF SOFT COAL BELOW." PHEBE By O. HENRY Author of "The Four Million," "The Trimmed Lamp," etc. Illustrations by H. Raleigh VOU are a man of nany novel adven- like any other well-dressed man of thirty- I tures and dubious enterprises,” I said five whom you might meet, except that he was to Captain Patricio Maloné. “Do you be- hopelessly weather-tanned, and wore on his lieve that the possible element of good luck chain an ancient ivory-and-gold Peruvian or bad luck-if there is such a thing as luck charm against evil, which has nothing at all -has influenced your career or persisted for to do with his story. or against you to such an extent that you "Mv answer to your question," said the were forced to attribute results to the opera- captain, smiling, “will be to tell you the story tion of the aforesaid good luck or bad luck?" of Bad Luck Kearny. That is, if you don't This question (of almost the dull insolence mind hearing it." of legal phraseology) was put while we sat in My reply was to pound on the table for Rousselin's little red-tiled café near Congo Rousselin. Square in New Orleans. Brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed “Strolling along Tchoupitoulas Street one captains of adventure came often to Rousse- night,” began Captain Maloné, “I noticed, lin's for the cognac. They came from sea without especially taxing my interest, a small and land, and were chary of relating the things man walking rapidly toward me. He stepped they had seen—not because they were more upon a wooden cellar door, crashed through wonderful than the fantasies of the Ananiases it, and disappeared. I rescued him from a of print, but because they were so different. heap of soft coal below. He dusted himself And I was a perpetual wedding-guest, always briskly, swearing fluently in a mechanical striving to cast my buttonhole over the finger tone, as an underpaid actor recites the gipsy's of one of these mariners of fortune. This curse. Gratitude and the dust in his throat Captain Malone was a Hiberno-Iberian seemed to call for fluids to clear them away. creole who had gone to and fro in the earth His desire for liquidation was expressed so and walked up and down in it. Ile looked heartily that I went with him to a café down 592 Phoebe 593 the street where we had some vile vermouth uprisings in those little tropic republics. and bitters. They make but a faint clamor against the “Looking across that little table I had my din of great nations' battles; but down there, first clear sight of Francis Kearny. He was under all the ridiculous uniforms and petty about five feet seven, but as tough as a cypress diplomacy and senseless countermarching knee. His hair was darkest red, his mouth and intrigue, are to be found statesmen and such a mere slit that you wondered how the patriots. Don Rafael Valdevia was one. His flood of his words came rushing from it. His great ambition was to raise Esperando into eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and peace and honest prosperity and the respect the hopefulest that I ever saw. He gave the of the serious nations. So he waited for double impression that he was at bay and my rifles in Aguas Frias. But one would that you had better not crowd him farther. think I am trying to win a recruit in you! No; “Just in from a gold-hunting expedition it was Francis Kearny I wanted. And so I on the coast of Costa Rica,' he explained. told him, speaking long over our execrable 'Second mate of a banana steamer told me vermouth, breathing the stifling odor from the natives were panning out enough from the garlic and tarpaulins, which, as you know, is beach sands to buy all the rum, red calico, the distinctive flavor of cafés in the lower slant and parlor melodeons in the world. The of our city. I spoke of the tyrant President day I got there a syndicate named Incorpo- Cruz and the burdens that his greed and in- rated Jones gets a government concession to all solent cruelty laid upon the people. And at minerals from a given point. For a next that Kearny's tears flowed. And then I dried choice I take coast fever and count green them with a picture of the fat rewards that and blue lizards for six weeks in a grass hut. would be ours when the oppressor should be I had to be notified when I was well, for the overthrown and the wise and generous Val- reptiles were actually there. Then I shipped devia in his seat. Then Kearny leaped to his back as third cook on a Norwegian tramp feet and wrung my hand with the strength of that blew up her boiler two miles below a roustabout. He was mine, he said, till the Quarantine. I was due to bust through that last minion of the hated despot was hurled cellar door here to-night, so I hurried the from the highest peaks of the Cordilleras into rest of the way up the river, roustabouting the sea. on a lower coast packet that made a landing “I paid the score and we went out. Near for every fisherman that wanted a plug of the door Kearny's elbow overturned an up- tobacco. And now I'm here for what comes right glass showcase, smashing it into little next. And it'll be along, it'll be along,' said bits. I paid the storekeeper the price he asked. this queer Mr. Kearny; 'it'll be along on the "Come to my hotel for the night,' I said beams of my bright but not very particular to Kearny. “We sail to-morrow at noon.' star.' “He agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to "From the first the personality of Kearny cursing again in the dull, monotonous, glib charmed me. I saw in him the bold heart, way that he had done when I pulled him out the restless nature, and the valiant front of the coal cellar. against the buffets of fate that make his "Captain,' said he, 'before we go any countrymen such valuable comrades in risk further, it's no more than fair to tell you that and adventure. And just then I was wanting I'm known from Baffin's Bay to Terra del such men. Moored at a fruit company's Fuego as “Bad-Luck” Kearny. And I'm pier I had a 500-ton steamer ready to sail the It. Everything I get into goes up in the air next day with a cargo of sugar, lumber, and except a balloon. Every bet I ever made I corrugated iron for a port in—well, let us call lost except when I coppered it. Every boat the country Esperando—it has not been long I ever sailed on sank except the submarines. ago, and the name of Patricio Malone is still Everything I was ever interested in went to spoken there when its unsettled politics are pieces except a patent bombshell that I in- discussed. Beneath the sugar and iron were vented. Everything I ever took hold of and packed a thousand Winchester rifles. In tried to run I ran into the ground except when Aguas Frias, the capital, Don Rafael Val- I tried to plow. And that's why they call me devia, Minister of War, Esperando's great- Bad Luck Kearny. I thought I'd tell you.' est-hearted and most able patriot, awaited “Bad luck,' said I, ‘or what goes by the my coming. No doubt you have heard, name, may now and then tangle the affairs with a smile, of the insignificant wars and of any man. But if it persist beyond the 594 Everybody's Magazine estimate of what we may call the "averages sparklers to help hand it out. They're cir- there must be a cause for it.' culating and revolving and hanging around “There is,' said Kearny emphatically, the main supply all the time, each one throw- ‘and when we walk another square I will ing the hoodoo on his own particular district. show it to you.' “You see that ugly little red star about “Surprised, I kept by his side until we eight inches above and to the right of Saturn?' came to Canal Street and out into the middle Kearny asked me. “Well, that's her. That's of its great width. Phæbe. She's got me in charge. "By the “Kearny seized me by an arm and pointed day of your birth,” says Azrath to me, "your a tragic forefinger at a rather brilliant star life is subjected to the influence of Saturn. that shone steadily about thirty degrees above By the hour and minute of it you must dwell the horizon. under the sway and direct authority of Phæbe. “That's Saturn,' said he, 'the star that the ninth satellite.” So said this Azrath.' presides over bad luck and evil and disap- Kearny shook his fist viciously skyward. pointment and nothing-doing and trouble. “Curse her, she's done her work well,' said I was born under that star. Every move I he. 'Ever since I was astrologized, bad make, up bobs Saturn and blocks it. He's luck has followed me like my shadow, as I the hoodoo planet of the heavens. They say told you. And for many years before. Now, he's 73,000 miles in diameter and no solider Captain, I've told you my handicap as a man of body than split-pea soup, and he's got as should. If you're afraid this evil star of mine many disreputable and malignant rings as might cripple your scheme, leave me out of it.' Chicago. Now, what kind of a star is that to “I reassured Kearny as well as I could. I be born under?' told him that for the time we would banish "I asked Kearny where he had obtained all both astrology and astronomy from our heads. this astonishing knowledge. The manifest valor and enthusiasm of the man “From Azrath, the great astrologer of drew me. 'Let us see what a little courage Cleveland, Ohio,' said he. “That man and diligence will do against bad luck,' I looked at a glass ball and told me my name said. “We will sail to-morrow for Espe- before I'd taken a chair. He prophesied the rando.' date of my birth and death before I'd said a “Fifty miles down the Mississippi our word. And then he cast my horoscope, and steamer broke her rudder. We sent for a the sidereal system socked me in the solar tug to tow us back and lost three days. When plexus. It was bad luck for Francis Kearny we struck the blue waters of the Gulf, all the from A to Izard and for storm clouds of the At- his friends that were lantic seemed to have implicated with him. concentrated above us. For that I gave up ten We thought surely to dollars. This Azrath sweeten those leaping was sorry, but he re- waves with our sugar, spected his profession and to stack our arms too much to read the and lumber on the heavens wrong for any floor of the Mexican man. It was night- Gulf. time, and he took me “Kearny did not out on a balcony and seek to cast off one iota gave me a free view of the burden of our of the sky. And he danger from the shoul- showed me which Sat- ders of his fatal horo- urn was, and how to scope. He weathered find it in different bal- every storm on deck, conies and longitudes. smoking a black pipe, “But Saturn wasn't to keep which alight all. He was only the rain and sea-water man higher up. He seemed but as oil. And furnishes so much bad he shook his fist at the luck that they allow black clouds behind "KEARNY POINTED A TRAGIC FOREFINGER AT him a gang of deputy which his baleful star A RATHER BRILLIANT STAR." Phobe 595 winked its unseen eye. When the skies cleared told myself that although he might be a man one evening, he reviled his malignant guardian to shun, he was also one to be admired. with grim humor. “I gave orders to the sailing-master that the “On watch, aren't you, you red-headed arms, ammunition, and provisions were to be vixen? Out making it hot for little Francis landed at once. That was easy in the Kearny and his friends, according to Hoyle. steamer's boats, except for the two Gatling Twinkle, twinkle, little devil! You're a lady, guns. For their transportation ashore we aren't you?-dogging a man with bad luck carried a stout flatboat, brought for the pur- just because he happened to be born while pose in the steamer's hold. your boss was foorwalker. Get busy and "In the meantime I walked with Carlos to sink the ship, you one-eyed banshee. Phoebe! the camp and made the soldiers a little speech H’m! Sounds as mild as a milkmaid. You in Spanish, which they received with enthusi- can't judge a woman by her name. Why asm; and then I had some wine and a cigar- couldn't I have had a man star? I can't ette in Carlos's tent. Later we walked back make the remarks to Phoebe that I could to a to the river to see how the unloading was man. Oh, Phæbe, you be-blasted! being conducted. “For eight days gales and squalls and “The small arms and provisions were waterspouts beat us from our course. Five already ashore, and the petty officers had days only should have landed us in Espe- squads of men conveying them to camp. rando. Our Jonah swallowed the bad credit One Gatling had been safely landed; the other of it with appealing frankness; but that was just being hoisted over the side of the scarcely lessened the hardships our cause vessel as we arrived. I noticed Kearny dart- was made to suffer. ing about on board, seeming to have the “At last one afternoon we steamed into the ambition of ten men, and to be doing the calm estuary of the little Rio Escondido. work of five. I think his zeal bubbled over Three miles up this we crept, feeling for the when he saw Carlos and me. A rope's end shallow channel between the low banks that was swinging loose from some part of the were crowded to the edge with gigantic trees tackle. Kearny leaped impetuously and and riotous vegetation. Then our whistle caught it. There was a crackle and a hiss and gave a little toot, and in five minutes we a smoke of scorching hemp, and the Gatling heard a shout, and Carlos—my brave Carlos dropped straight as a plummet through the Quintana-crashed through the tangled vines bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in waving his cap madly for joy. twenty feet of water and five feet of river mud. "A hundred yards away was his camp, “I turned my back on the scene. I heard where three hundred chosen patriots of Es- Carlos's loud cries as if from some extreme perando were awaiting our coming. For a grief too poignant for words. I heard the month Carlos had been drilling them there in complaining murmur of the crew and the the tactics of war and filling them with the maledictions of Torres, the sailing-master- spirit of revolution and liberty. I could not bear to look. “My Captain-compadre mio!' shouted “By night some degree of order had been Carlos, while yet my boat was being lowered. restored in camp. Military rules were not 'You should see them in the drill by com- drawn strictly, and the men were grouped pañias-in the column wheel—in the march about the fires of their several messes, playing by fours—they are superb! Also in the games of chance, singing their native songs, manual of arms—but, alas! performed only or discussing with voluble animation the con- with sticks of bamboo. The guns, Capitan tingencies of our march upon the capital. -say that you have brought the guns! “To my tent, which had been pitched for "A thousand Winchesters, Carlos,' I me close to that of my chief lieutenant, came called to him. “And two Gatlings.' Kearny, indomitable, smiling, bright-eyed, "Valgame Dios!' he cried, throwing his bearing no traces of the buffets of his evil star. cap in the air. 'We shall sweep the world! Rather was his aspect that of a heroic “At that moment Kearny tumbled from the martyr whose tribulations were so high- steamer's side into the river. He could not sourced and glorious that he even took a swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew splendor and a prestige from them. him back aboard. I caught his eye and his “Well, Captain,' said he, 'I guess you look of pathetic but still bright and un- realize that Bad-Luck Kearny is still on deck. daunted consciousness of his guilty luck. I It was a shame, now, about that gun. She 596 Everybody's Magazine only needed to be slewed two inches to clear laughed until the woods echoed. Kearny the rail; and that's why I grabbed that rope's grinned. 'I told you how it was,' he said. end. Who'd have thought that a sailor- “To-morrow,' I said, 'I shall detail one even a Sicilian lubber on a banana coaster- hundred men under your command for would have fastened a line in a bow-knot? manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. Don't think I'm trying to dodge the re- You will rank as lieutenant. Now, for God's sponsibility, Captain. It's my luck.' sake, Kearny,' I urged him, 'try to combat "There are men, Kearny,' said I gravely, this superstition, if it is one. Bad luck may 'who pass through life blaming upon luck be like any other visitor-preferring to stop and chance the mistakes that result from their where it is expected. Get your mind off stars. own faults and incompetency. I do not say Look upon Esperando as your planet of good that you are such a man. But if all your fortune.' mishaps are traceable to that tiny star, the "I thank you, Captain,' said Kearny sooner we endow our colleges with chairs of quietly. 'I will try to make it the best moral astronomy, the better.' handicap I ever ran. “It isn't the size of the star that counts, “By noon the next day the submerged said Kearny; “it's the quality. Just the way Gatling was rescued, as Kearny had prom- it is with women. That's why they gave the ised. Then Carlos and Manuel Ortiz and biggest planets masculine names, and the Kearny (my lieutenants) distributed Win- little stars feminine ones—to even things up chesters among the troops and put them when it comes to getting their work in. Sup- through an incessant rifle drill. We fired pose they had called my star Agamemnon or no shots, blank or solid, for of all coasts Bill McCarty or something like that instead Esperando is the stillest; and we had no of Phæbe. Every time one of those old boys desire to sound any warnings in the ear of touched their calamity button and sent me that corrupt government until they should down one of their wireless pieces of bad luck, carry with them the message of Liberty and I could talk back and tell 'em what I thought the downfall of Oppression. of 'em in suitable terms. But you can't ad “In the afternoon came a mule-rider bear- dress such remarks to a Phæbe. ing a written message to me from Don “It pleases you to make a joke of it, Rafael Valdevia in the capital, Aguas Frias. Kearny,' said I, without smiling. But it is no “Whenever that man's name comes to my joke to me to think of my Gatling mired in lips, words of tribute to his greatness, his the river ooze.' noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius "As to that,' said Kearny, abandoning his follow irrepressibly. He was a traveler, a light mood at once, 'I have already done what student of peoples and governments, a master I could. I have had some experience in of sciences, a poet, an orator, a leader, à hoisting stone in quarries. Torres and I soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and have already spliced three hawsers and the idol of the people of Esperando. I had stretched them from the steamer's stern to been honored by his friendship for years. It a tree on shore. We will rig a tackle and was I who first turned his mind to the thought have the gun on terra firma before noon to that he should leave for his monument a new morrow.' Esperando-a country freed from the rule of "One could not remain long at outs with unscrupulous tyrants, and a people made Bad-Luck Kearny. happy and prosperous by wise and impartial “Once more,' said I to him, 'we will legislation. When he had consented he threw waive this question of luck. Have you ever himself into the cause with the undivided zeal had experience in drilling raw troops?' with which he endowed all of his acts. The "I was first sergeant and drill-master,' coffers of his great fortune were opened to said Kearny, ‘in the Chilean army for one those of us to whom were entrusted the secret year. And captain of artillery for another.' moves of the game. His popularity was "What became of your command?' I already so great that he had practically forced asked. President Cruz to ouer him the portfolio of “Shot down to a man,' said Kearny, Minister of War. during the revolutions against Balmaceda. “The time, Don Rafael said in his letter, “Somehow, the misfortunes of the evil- was ripe. Success, he prophesied, was cer- starred one seemed to turn to me their comedy tain. The people were beginning to clamor side. I lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and publicly against Cruz's misrule. Bands of Phoebe 597 citizens in the capital were even going about of nights hurling stones at public build- ings and expressing their dissatisfaction. A bronze statue of President Cruz in the Bo- tanical Gardens had been lassoed about the neck and overthrown, It only remained for me to arrive with my force and my thou- sand rifles, and for himself to come for- ward and proclaim himself the people's savior, to overthrow Cruz in a single day. There would be but a half-hearted re- sistance from the six hundred govern- ment troops stationed in the capital. The country was ours. He presumed that by this time my steamer had ar- rived at Quintana's camp. He pro- posed the 18th of July for the attack. That would give us six days in which to strike camp and march to Aguas Frias. In the meantime Don Rafael remained my good friend and com- padre en la causa de la libertad. “On the morning of the 14th we began our march toward the sea- following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to the capital. Our small arms and provisions were laden on pack mules. Twenty men harnessed to each Gatling gun rolled them smoothly along the flat, alluvial lowlands. Our troops, well-shod and well-fed, moved with alacrity and heartiness. I and my three lieutenants were mounted on the tough mountain ponies of the country. "A mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, THE RIVER." broke away from the train and plunged from the path into the thicket. The alert Kearny spurred quickly after it and intercepted its flight. Rising in his stirrups, he released one foot and bestowed upon the mutinous animal a hearty kick. The mule tottered and fell with a crash broadside upon the ground. As we gathered around it, it walled its great eyes almost humanly toward Kearny and expired. That was bad; but worse, to our minds, was the concomitant disaster. Part of the mule's burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee to be had in the tropics. The bag burst and spilled the priceless brown mass of the ground berries among the dense vines and weeds of the swampy land. Mala suerte! When you take away from an Esperandan his coffee, you abstract his patriotism and fifty per cent. of his value as a soldier. The men began to rake up the precious stuff; but I beck- oned Kearny back along the trail where they would not hear. The limit had been reached. “I took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some bills. "Mr. Kearny,' said I, 'here are some funds be- longing to Don Rafael Valdevia, which I am ex- pending in his cause. I know of no better service it can buy for him than this. Here is one hundred dollars. Luck or no luck, we part company here. Star or no star, calamity seems to travel by your side. You will return to the steamer. She touches at Amotapa to discharge her lumber and iron, and then puts back to New Orleans. Hand this note to the sailing-master, who will give you passage.' I wrote on a leaf torn from my book, and placed it and the money in Kearny's hand. “Good-by,' I said, extending my own. It is not that I am displeased with you; but there is no place in this expedition for—let us say, the Señorita Phæbe. I said this with a smile, trying to smooth the thing for him. “May you have better luck, com- pañero.' “Kearny took the money and the paper. "It was just a little touch,' said he, just a little liſt with the toe of my boot—but what's the odds ?—that blamed mule would have died if I had only dusted his ribs with a powder puff. It was my luck. Well, Captain, I would have liked to be in that little fight with you over in Aguas Frias. Success to the cause. Adios!' " KEARVY TUMBLED INTO 598 Everybody's Magazine "He turned around and set off down the were always bananas and oranges. Higher trail without looking back. The unfortunate up it was worse; but your men left a good mule's pack-saddle was transferred to Kear- deal of goat meat hanging on the bushes in ny's pony, and we again took up the march. the camps. Here's your hundred dollars. “Four days we journeyed over the foot. You're nearly there now, Captain. Let me hills and mountains, fording icy torrents, in on the scrapping to-morrow.' winding around the crumbling brows of “Not for a hundred times a hundred would ragged peaks, creeping along rocky flanges I have the tiniest thing go wrong with my that overlooked awful precipices, crawling plans now,' I said, 'whether caused by evil breathlessly over tottering bridges across bot- planets or the blunders of mere man. But tomless chasms. yonder is Aguas Frias five miles away, and a “On the evening of the 17th we camped clear road. I am of the mind to defy Saturn by a little stream on the bare hills five miles and all his satellites to spoil our success now. from Aguas Frias. At daybreak we were to At any rate, I will not turn away to-night as take up the march again. weary a traveler and as good a soldier as you "At midnight I was standing outside my are, Lieutenant Kearny. Manuel Ortiz's tent inhaling the fresh cold air. tent is there by the brightest The stars were shining bright fire. Rout him out and tell in the cloudless sky, giving the him to supply you with food heavens their proper aspect of and blankets and clothes. We illimitable depth and distance march again at daybreak.' when viewed from the vague “Kearny thanked me briefly darkness of the blotted earth. but feelingly and moved away. Almost at its zenith was the “He had gone scarcely a planet Saturn; and with a half- dozen steps when a sudden flash smile I observed the sinister red of bright light illumined the sur- sparkle of his malignant attend- rounding hills; a sinister, grow- ant—the demon star of Kearny's ing, hissing sound like escaping ill luck. And then my thoughts steam filled my ears. Then fol- strayed across the hills to the lowed a roar as of distant thun- scene of our coming triumph der, which grew louder every where the heroic and noble Don instant. This terrifying noise Rafael awaited our coming to culminated in a tremendous ex- set a new and shining star in plosion, which seemed to rock the firmament of nations. the hills as an earthquake “I heard a slight rustling in would; the illumination waxed to the deep grass to my right. I a glare so fierce that I clapped turned and saw Kearny coming my hands to my eyes to save toward me. He was ragged and them. I thought the end of the dew-drenched and limping. His world had come. I could think hat and one boot were gone. of no natural phenomenon that About one foot he had tied some would explain it. My wits were makeshift of cloth and grass. But his staggering. The deafening explosion trailed manner as he approached was that of a man off into the rumbling roar that had preceded who knows his own virtues well enough to be it; and through this I heard the frightened superior to rebuffs. shouts of my troops as they stumbled from "Well, sir,' I said, staring at him coldly, their resting-places and rushed wildly about. if there is anything in persistence, I see no Also I heard the harsh tones of Kearny's voice reason why you should not succeed in wreck- crying: 'They'll blame it on me, of course, ing and ruining us yet.' and what the devil it is, it's not Francis “I kept half a day's journey behind,' said Kearny that can give you an answer. Kearny, fishing out a stone from the covering “I opened my eyes. The hills were still of his lame foot, ‘so the bad luck wouldn't there, dark and solid. It had not been, then, touch you. I couldn't help it, Captain; I a volcano nor an earthquake. I looked up at wanted to be in on this game. It was a the sky and saw a comet-like trail crossing the pretty tough trip, especially in the department zenith and extending westward-a fiery trail of the commissary. In the low grounds there waning fainter and narrower each moment. "PHCE: BE'S GONE!' HE CRIED." "THE PROFESSOR LOOKED QUICKLY UP AT THE CEILING." ""A meteor!' I called aloud. “A meteor had visions of him riding as commander of has fallen. There is no danger.' President Valdevia's body-guard when the “And then all other sounds were drowned plums of the new republic should begin to fall. by a great shout from Kearny's throat. He “Carlos followed with the troops and sup- had raised both hands above his head and plies. He was to halt in a wood outside the was standing tiptoe. town and remain concealed there until he “PHEBE'S GONE!' he cried, with all received the word to advance. his lungs. “She's busted and gone to hell. “Kearny and I rode down the Calle Ancho Look, Captain, the little red-headed hoodoo toward the residencia of Don Rafael at the has blown herself to smithereens. She found other side of the town. As we passed the Kearny too tough to handle, and she puffed superb white buildings of the University of up with spite and meanness till her boiler Esperando, I saw at an open window the blew up. It'll be Bad-Luck Kearny no gleaming spectacles and bald head of Herr more. Oh, let us be joyful! Bergowitz, professor of the natural sciences and friend of Don Rafael and of me and of “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; Humpty busted, and that'll be all.' the cause. He waved his hand to me, with his broad, bland smile. “I looked up, wondering, and picked out “There was no excitement apparent in Saturn in his place. But the small red Aguas Frias. The people went about leisure- twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which ly as at all times; the market was thronged Kearny had pointed out to me as his evil star, with bareheaded women buying fruit and had vanished. I had seen it there but half carne; we heard the twang and tinkle of an hour before; there was no doubt that one string bands in the patios of the cantinas. of those .awful and mysterious spasms of We could see that it was a waiting game that nature had hurled it from the heavens. Don Rafael was playing. “I clapped Kearny on the shoulder. “His residencia was a large but low build- “Little man,' said I, élet this clear the ing around a great courtyard in grounds way for you. It appears that astrology has crowded with ornamental trees and tropic failed to subdue you. Your horoscope must shrubs. At his door an old woman who be cast anew with pluck and loyalty for con- came informed us that Don Rafael had not trolling stars. I play you to win. Now, get yet arisen. to your tent, and sleep. Daybreak is the "Tell him,' said I, 'that Captain Maloné word.' and a friend wish to see him at once. Perhaps “At nine o'clock on the morning of the he has overslept.' 18th of July I rode into Aguas Frias, with “She came back looking frightened. Kearny at my side. In his clean linen suit “I have called,' she said, “and rung his bell and with his military poise and keen eye he many times, but he does not answer.' was a model of a fighting adventurer. I "I knew where his sleeping-room was. avens. 599 600 Everybody's Magazine Kearny and I pushed by her and went to it. I put my shoulder against the thin door and forced it open. “In an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books sat Don Rafael with his eyes closed. I touched his hand. He had been dead many hours. On his head above one ear was a wound caused by a heavy blow. It had ceased to bleed long before. “I made the old woman call a mozo, and despatched him in haste to fetch Herr Bergowitz. “He came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the awful shock. Thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from one man's veins drain the life of a nation. “Presently Herr Bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone the size of an orange which he saw under the table. He ex- amined it closely through his great glasses with the eye of science. "A fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. The most remarkable one in twenty years exploded above this city a little after midnight this morning.' “The professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. We saw the blue sky through a hole the size of an orange nearly above Don Rafael's chair. “I heard a familiar sound, and turned. Kearny had thrown himself on the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, blood- freezing curses against the star of his evil luck “Undoubtedly Phæbe had been feminine. Even when hurtling on her way to fiery dis- solution and everlasting doom, the last word had been hers.” to a friend who holds a professorship in Tulane University. “When I had finished he laughed and asked whether I had any knowledge of Kearny's luck afterward. I told him no, that I had seen him no more; but that when he left me, he had expressed confi- dence that his future would be successful now that his unlucky star had been over- thrown. “No doubt,' said the professor, “he is happier not to know one fact. If he derived his bad luck from Phæbe, the ninth satellite of Saturn, that malicious lady is still engaged in overlooking his career. The star close to Saturn that he imagined to be her was near that planet simply by the chance of its orbit —probably at different times he has regarded many other stars that happened to be in Saturn's neighborhood as his evil one. The real Phæbe is visible only through a very good telescope.' “About a year afterward,” continued Captain Maloné, “I was walking down a street that crossed the Poydras Market. An immensely stout, pink-faced lady in black satin crowded me from the narrow sidewalk with a frown. Behind her trailed a little man laden to the gunwales with bundles and bags of goods and vegetables. “It was Kearny--but changed. I stopped and shook one of his hands, which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers. “How is the luck, old compañero?' I asked him. I had not the heart to tell him the truth about his star. “Well,' said he, 'I am married, as you may guess.' "Francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, "are you going to stop in the street talking all day?'. “I am coming, Phæ- be dear,' said Kearny, hastening after her.” Captain Malone was not unskilled in narrative. He knew the point where a story should end. I sat revel- ing in his effective con- clusion when he aroused me by continuing: “Of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. There was no one to take Don Rafa- el's place. Our little army melted away like dew before the sun. “One day after I had returned to New Or- leans I related this story Captain Maloné ceased again. “After all, do you be- lieve in luck?” I asked. “Do you?” answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded by the brim of his soft straw hat. "IT WAS KEARNY." Mary Greene-Blumenschein Paris 1997 SHE WAS THOROUGHLY ALIVE, BOLD, PREDATORY, AND SAVAGELY GRACEFUL. -"The Guest of Quesnay." The Guest of Quesnay By BOOTH TARKINGTON Author of "The Gentleman from Indiana," "The Two Van Revels," "Monsieur Beaucaire," etc. Illustrations by M. G. Blumenschein THERE are old Parisians who will tell prelates; shabby young priests; cavalrymen Iyou pompously that the boulevards, in casque and cuirass; workingmen turned like the political cafés, have ceased to exist, horse and harnessed to carts; sidewalk jesters; but this means only that the boulevards no itinerant vendors of questionable wares; longer gossip of Louis Napoleon, the Return shady loafers dressed to resemble gold-show- of the Bourbons, or of General Boulanger, ering America; motor-cyclists in leather; pur- for these highways are always too busily stir- ple-faced, glazed-hatted, scarlet-waistcoated, ring with present movements not to be for- cigarette-smoking cabmen, calling one an- getful of their yesterdays. In the shade of other “onions," "camels,” and names even the buildings and awnings, the loungers, the more terrible; hairy musicians, blue gen- lookers-on in Paris, the audience of the boule- darmes, baggy red zouaves. And women vard, sit at little tables, sipping coffee from prevalent over all the concourse: fair women, long glasses, drinking absinthe or bright- dark women, pretty women, gilded women, colored sirops, and gazing over the heads of haughty women, indifferent women, friendly throngs afoot at others borne along through women, merry women. Fine women in fine the sunshine of the street in carriages, in clothes; rich women in fine clothes; poor cabs, in glittering automobiles, or high on women in fine clothes. Handsome old women, the tops of omnibuses. reclining befurred in electric landaulettes; From all the continents the multitudes hoydenish old women pushing carts full of come to join in that procession. Americans, flowers. Wonderful automobile women, tagged with race-cards and intending hilari- quick-glimpsed, in multiple veils of white and ous disturbances; puzzled Americans, worn brown and sea-green. Women in rags and with guide-book plodding. Chinese princes tags, and women draped, coifed, and be- in silk. Queer Antillean dandies of swarthy frilled in the delirium of maddened poet- origin and fortune. Ruddy English, thinking milliners and the hasheesh dreams of ladies' of nothing; pallid English, with upper teeth tailors. bared and eyes hungrily searching for sign- About the procession, as it moves intermi- boards of tea-rooms. Over-Europeanized Jap- nably along the boulevard, a blue haze of fine anese, unpleasantly immaculate. Burnoused dust and burnt gasoline rises into the sun- sheiks from the desert, and red-fezzed Semitic shine like the haze over the passages to an peddlers. Italian nobles in English tweeds. amphitheatre toward which a crowd is tram- Soudanese negroes swaggering in frock coats. pling; and through this the multitudes seem Slim Spaniards, squat Turks. Travelers, to go as actors passing to their cues. Your idlers, exiles, fugitives, sportsmen. All the place at one of the little tables upon the side- tribes and kinds of men are tributary here walk is that of a wayside spectator: and as to the Parisian stream which, on a fair day in the performers go by, in some measure acting spring, already overflows the banks with its or looking their parts already, as if in prep- own much-mingled waters. Soberly clad bur- aration, you guess the rôles they play, and gesses, bearded, amiable, and in no fatal name them comedians, tragedians, buffoons, hurry; well-kept men of the world swirling by saints, beauties, sots, knaves, gladiators, ac- in glittering limousines; legless cripples flop- róbats, dancers; for all of these are there, and ping on hands and leather pads; thin-whis- you distinguish the principals from the un- kered students in velveteen; walrus-mus- numbered supernumeraries pressing forward tached veterans in broadcloth; keen-faced old to the entrances. So, if you sit at the little 601 602 Everybody's Magazine tables often enough-that is, if you become together; in truth the man appeared to be al- an amateur boulevardier--you begin to rec- most in a semi-stupor, and, contrasted with ognize the transient stars of the pageant, this Silenus, even the woman beside him gained those to whom the boulevard allows a dubi- something of human dignity. At least, she ous and fugitive rôle of celebrity, and whom was thoroughly alive, bold, predatory, and in it greets with a slight flutter: the turning of spite of the gross embonpoint that threat- heads, a murmur of comment, and the incred- ened her, still savagely graceful. A purple ulous boulevard smile, which seems to say: veil, dotted with gold, floated about her hat, “You see? Madame and monsieur passing from which green-dyed ostrich plumes cas- there-evidently they think we still believe caded down across a cheek enameled dead in them!” white. Her hair was plastered in blue-black This flutter heralded and followed the pass- waves, parted low on the forehead; her lips ing of a white touring-car with the procession were splashed a startling carmine, the eye- one afternoon just before the Grand Prix, lids painted blue; and, from between lashes though it needed no boulevard celebrity to gummed into little spikes of blacking, she make the man who lolled in the tonneau favored her companion with a glance of care- conspicuous. Simply for that, notoriety was lessly simulated tenderness, a look all too superfluous; so were the remarkable size and vividly suggesting the ghastly calculations of a power of his car; so was the elaborate touring- cook wheedling a chicken nearer the kitchen costume of flannels and pongee he wore; so door. But I felt no great pity for the victim. was even the enameled presence of the dancer “Who is it?" I asked, staring at the man who sat beside him. His face would have in the automobile and not turning toward done it without accessories. Ward. My old friend, George Ward, and I had “That is Mariana—'la belle Mariana la met for our apéritif at the Terrace Larue, by Mursiana,'” George answered; “—one of the Madeleine, when the white automobile those women who come to Paris from the came snaking its way craftily through the tropics to form themselves on the legend of traffic. Turning in to pass a victoria on the the one great famous and infamous Spanish wrong side, it was forced down to a snail's dancer who died a long while ago. Mariana pace near the curb and not far from our table, did very well for a time. I've heard that the where it paused, checked by a blockade at revolutionary societies intend striking medals the next corner. I heard Ward utter a half- in her honor; she's done worse things to roy- suppressed guttural of what I took to be alty than all the anarchists in Europe. But amazement, and I did not wonder. The face her great days are over: she's getting old; of the man in the tonneau detached him to that type goes to pieces quickly, once it begins the spectator's gaze and singled him out of to slump, and it won't be long before she'll the concourse with an effect almost ludicrous be horribly fat, though she's still a graceful in its incongruity. dancer. She danced at the Folie Rouge last The hair was dark and thick; certain ruin- week.” ous vestiges of youth and good looks remained; “Thank you, George," I said gratefully. but whatever the features might once have “I hope you'll point out the Louvre and the been, whatever they might have shown of Eiffel Tower to me some day. I didn't mean honor, worth, or kindly semblance, had dis- Mariana.” appeared beyond all tracing in a blurred dis- “What did you mean?" tortion. The lids of one eye were discolored What I had meant was so obvious that I and swollen together-patently from a blow, turned to my friend in surprise. He was and one guessed how he got it—those of the nervously tapping his chin with the handle of other sagged; the nose lost outline in the dis- his cane and staring at the white automobile colorations of the puffed cheeks; the chin, with very grim interest. tufted with an absurd “imperial,” trembled “I meant the man with her," I said. beneath a swollen and hanging lower lip. “Oh!” he laughed sourly. “That car- Massaged, powdered, and doctored as it was, rion?” by some valet of infinite pains, it was the face “You seem to be an acquaintance!" of a sodden tramp and would have frightened “Everybody on the boulevard knows who a child. he is," said Ward curtly, paused, and laughed The figure was fat, but loose and sprawl- again with very little mirth. “So do you," ing, seemingly without the will to hold itself he continued; "and as for my acquaintance The Guest of Quesnay 603 with him, yes, I had once the distinc- Every event, no matter how trifling, in this tion of being his rival in a small way—a way man's pitiful career had been recorded in the so small, in fact, that it ended in his becoming American newspapers with an elaboration a connection of mine by marriage. He's which, for my part, I found infuriatingly tire- Larrabee Harman.” some. I have lived in Paris so long that I That was a name somewhat familiar to am afraid to go home: I have too little to show readers of American newspapers even before for my years of pottering with paint and its bearer was fairly out of college. The pub- canvas, and I have grown timid about all the licity it then attained (partly due to young changes that have crept in at home. I do Harman's conspicuous wealth) attached to not know the "new men," I do not know some youthful exploits not without a certain how they would use me, and fear they might wild humor. But frolic degenerated into make no place for me, and so I fit myself brawl and debauch: what had been scrapes more closely into the little grooves I have for the boy became scandals for the man; and worn for myself, and resign my mind to stay. he gathered a more and more unsavory rep. But I am no “expatriate." I know there utation until its like was not to be found out is a feeling at home against us who remain side a penitentiary. The crux of his career over here to do our work, but in most in- in his own country was reached during a mid- stances it is a prejudice which springs from night quarrel in Chicago when he shot a ne- a misunderstanding. I think the quality of gro gambler. After that, the negro having patriotism in those of us who “didn't go home recovered and the matter being somehow ar- in time” is almost pathetically deep and ranged so that the prosecution was dropped, real, and, like many another oldish fellow Harman's wife left him, and the papers re in my position, I try to keep as close to things corded her application for a divorce. She at home as I can. All of my old friends was George Ward's second cousin, the daugh- gradually ceased to write to me, but I still ter of a Baltimore clergyman; a belle in a sea- take three home newspapers, trying to follow son and town of belles, and a delightful, the people I knew and the things that happen; headstrong creature, from all accounts. She and the ubiquity of so worthless a creature had made a runaway match of it with Har- as Larrabee Harman in the columns that man three years before, their affair having I dredged for real news had long been a point been earnestly opposed by all her relatives- of irritation to this present exile. Not only especially by poor George, who came over to that: he had usurped space in the Continental Paris just after the wedding in a miserable papers, and of late my favorite Parisian jour- frame of mind. nal had served him to me with my morning The Chicago exploit was by no means the coffee, only hinting his name, but offering end of Harman's notoriety. Evading an him with that jocose satire characteristic of effort (on the part of an aunt, I believe) to the Gallic journalist when writing of Amer- get him locked up safely in a "sanitarium," icans. And so this grotesque wreck of a he began a trip round the world with an orgy man was well known to the boulevard—was which continued from San Francisco to Bang- one of its sights. That was to be perceived kok, where, in the company of some congenial by the flutter he caused, by the turning of fellow travelers, he interfered in a native heads in his direction, and the low laughter ceremonial with the result that one of his of the people at the little tables. Three or companions was drowned. Proceeding, he four in the rear ranks had risen to their feet was reported to be in serious trouble at to get a better look at him and his com- Constantinople, the result of an inquisitive- panion. ness little appreciated by Orientals. The T he dancer was aware of it, and called State Department, bestirring itself, saved him his attention to it with a touch on the arm from a very real peril, and he continued his and a laugh and a nod of her brilliant plu- journey. In Rome he was rescued with diffi- mage. culty from a street mob that unreasonably At that he seemed to rouse himself some- refused to accept intoxication as an excuse what: his head rolled heavily over upon his for his riding down a child on his way to the shoulder, the lids lifted a little from the red- hunt. Later, during the winter just past, we shot eye, showing a sort of ugly pride when had been hearing from Monte Carlo of his his gaze fell upon the many staring faces. disastrous plunges at that most imbecile of Then, as the procession moved again and all games, roulette. the white automobile with it, the sottish 604 Everybody's Magazine er." mouth widened in a smile of dull and cynical that the first time he brought her to my contempt: just the look of a half-poisoned studio, she declared she hadn't seen anything Augustan borne down through the crowds so like Bring-the-child-to-the-old-hag's-cellar- from the Palatine after supping with Calig- at-midnight since her childhood. She is a ula. handsome woman, large, and of a fine, high Ward pulled my sleeve. color; her manner is gaily dictatorial, and she “Come,” he said, “let us go over to the and I got along very well together. Prob- Luxembourg gardens where the air is clean- ably she appreciated my going to some pains with the clothes I wore when I went to their house. I went there seldom, not for fear of CHAPTER II wearing out a welcome, but on account of Miss Elizabeth's “day," when I could see WARD is a portrait-painter, and in the nothing of George because of the crowd of matter of vogue there seem to be no pinnacles lionizing women and time-wasters about him. left for him to surmount. I think he has Her “day” was a dread of mine; I could sel- painted most of the very rich women of fash- dom remember which day it was, and when ion who have come to Paris of late years, and I did she had a way of shifting it so that he has become so prosperous, has such a po- I was fatally sure to run into it—to my mis- lite celebrity, and his opinions upon art are ery, for, beginning with those primordial in- so widely quoted, that the friendship of some dignities suffered in youth, when I was of us who started with him has been danger- scrubbed with a handkerchief outside the ously strained. parlor door as a preliminary to polite usages, He lives a well-ordered life; he has always my childhood's, manhood's prayer has been: led that kind of life. Even in his student From all such days, good Lord, deliver me! days when I first knew him, I do not remem- It was George's habit to come much oftener ber an occasion upon which the principal of to see me. He always really liked the sort of a New England high school would have crit- society his sister had brought about him; icized his conduct. And yet I never heard but now and then there were intervals when any one call him a prig; and, so far as I it wore on him a little, I think. Sometimes know, no one was ever so stupid as to think he came for me in his automobile and we him one. He was a quiet, good-looking, would make a mild excursion to breakfast in well-dressed boy, and he matured into a the country; and that is what happened one somewhat reserved, well-poised man, of im- morning about three weeks after the day pressive distinction in appearance and man- when we had sought pure air in the Luxem- ner. He has always been well tended and bourg gardens. cared for by women; in his student days his We drove out through the Bois and by mother lived with him; his sister, Miss Eliza- Suresnes, striking into a roundabout road to beth, looks after him now. She came with Versailles beyond St. Cloud. It was June, him when he returned to Paris after his dis- a dustless and balmy noon, the air thinly appointment in the unfortunate Harman af- gilded by a faint haze, and I know few things fair and she took charge of all his business, pleasanter than that road on a fair day of the as well as his social arrangements (she has early summer and no sweeter way to course been accused of a theory that the two things it than in an open car, though I must not be may be happily combined), making him lease giving myself out for a “motorist”; I have a house in an expensively modish quarter not even the right cap. I am usually ner- near the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. Miss vous in big machines, too; but Ward has never Elizabeth is an instinctively fashionable wom- caught the speed mania and has a strange an, practical withal, and to her mind success power over his chauffeur; so we rolled along should be not only respectable but "smart." peacefully, not madly, and smoked like the She does not speak of the “right bank” and car) in hasteless content. the “left bank” of the Seine; she calls them “After all,” said George, with a placid wave the "right bank” and the "wrong bank." of the hand, “I wish sometimes that the land- And yet, though she removed George (her scape had called me. You outdoor men word is “rescued”) from many of his old have all the health and pleasure of living in associations with Montparnasse, she warmly the open, and as for the work-oh! you fel- encouraged my friendship with him-yea, in lows think you work, but you don't know spite of my living so deep in the wrong bank what it means." The Guest of Quesnay 605 paint?” “No?” I said, and smiled as I always lows that get into the pa- Oh, Lord! meanly do when George "talks art." He There they go!" was silent for a few moments and then said Swinging out to pass us and then sweeping irritably, “Well, at least you can't deny that in upon the reverse curve to clear the narrow the academic crowd can DRAW!” arch of the culvert were too much for the Never having denied it, though he had white car; and through the dust we saw it challenged me in the same way perhaps a rock dangerously. In the middle of the road, thousand times, I refused to deny it now; ten feet from the culvert, the old woman whereupon he returned to his theme: “Land- struggled frantically to get her cart out of the scape is about as simple as a stage fight; two way. The howl of the siren frightened her up, two down, cross and repeat. Take that perhaps, for she lost her head and went to ahead of us. Could anything be simpler to the wrong side; and the machine-made shriek drowned the human scream as the automobile He indicated the white road running be- struck. fore us between open fields to a curve, where The first shock was muffled. Then the it descended to pass beneath an old stone mass of machinery hoisted itself in the air as culvert. Beyond, stood a thick grove with a if it had a life of its own and had been stung clear sky flickering among the branches. An into sudden madness. It was horrible to see, old peasant woman was pushing a heavy cart but so grotesque that a long-forgotten mem- round the curve, a scarlet handkerchief knot- ory of my boyhood leaped instantaneously ted about her head. into my mind, a recollection of the evolutions “You think it's easy?" I asked. performed by a Newfoundland dog that “Easy! Two hours ought to do it as well rooted under a board walk and found a hive as it could be done—the way you fellows do of wild bees. it!” He clenched his fingers as if upon the The white car left the road for the fields handle of a house-painter's brush. “Slap, on the right, reared, fell, leaped against the dash—there's your road.” He paddled the stone side of the culvert, apparently trying to air with the imaginary brush as though paint climb it, stood straight on end, whirled back- ing the side of a barn. “Swish, swash—there ward in a half-somersault, crashed over on go your fields and your stone bridge. Fit! its side, flashed with fame and explosion, Speck! And there's your old woman, her and lay hidden under a cloud of dust and red handkerchief, and what your dealer will smoke. probably call the human interest, all com- Ward's driver slammed down his accel- plete. Squirt the edges of your foliage in erator, sending us spinning round the curve, with a blow-pipe. Throw a cup of tea over and the next moment, throwing on his brakes, the whole thing and there's your haze. Call halted sharply at the culvert. it 'The Golden Road,' or 'The Bath of Sun- The fabric of the road was so torn and dis- light,' or 'Quiet Noon. Then you'll prob- torted that one might have thought a steam ably get a criticism beginning, “Few indeed dredge had begun work there, but the frag- have more intangibly detained upon canvas ments of wreckage were oddly isolated and so poetic a quality of sentiment as this ster- inconspicuous. The peasant's cart, tossed ling landscapist, who in number 136 has so into a clump of weeds, rested on its side, the ethereally expressed the profound silence of spokes of a rimless wheel slowly revolving evening on an English moor. The solemn on the hub uppermost; a big brass lamp, hush, the brooding quiet, the homeward crumpled like waste paper, had fallen in the plowman " middle of the road; beside it lay a gold rouge- He was interrupted by an outrageous up- box; some tools were strewn in a semicircu- roar, the grisly scream of a siren, and the lar trail, and, as I sprang out of Ward's car, cannonade of a powerful exhaust, as a great my foot crunched a pair of smashed goggles. white touring-car swung round us from be The old woman had somehow saved her- hind at a speed that sickened me to see, and, self-or perhaps her saint had helped her- snorting thunder, passed us “as if we had for she was sitting in the grass by the road- been standing still.” It hurtled like a comet side, wailing hysterically and quite unhurt. down the curve and we were instantly chok. The body of a man lay in a heap beneath the ing in its swirling tail of dust. stone archway, and from his clothes I guessed “Seventy miles an hour!” gasped George, that he had been the driver of the white car. swabbing at his eyes. “Those are the fel- I say “had been” because there were reasons 606 Everybody's Magazine why it needed no second glance to know that The smoke had cleared a little, though a the man was dead. Nevertheless, I knelt rivulet of burning gasoline ran from the wreck beside him and placed my hand upon his to a pool of flame it was feeding in the road. breast to see if his heart still beat. After The front cushions and woodwork had wards I concluded that I did this because I caught fire and a couple of laborers, panting had seen it done upon the stage, or had read with the run across the fields, were vainly be- of it in stories, and even at the time I realized laboring the flames with brushwood. From that it was a silly thing for me to be doing. beneath the overturned tonneau projected Ward, meanwhile, proved more practical. the lower part of a man's leg, clad in a brown He was dragging a woman out of the suffo- puttee and a russet shoe. Ward's driver had cating smoke and dust that shrouded the brought his tools; had jacked up the car as wreck, and after a moment I went to help high as possible; but was still unable to re- him carry her into the fresh air, where Ward lease the imprisoned body. put his coat under her head. Her hat had “I have seized that foot and pulled with been forced forward over her face and held all my strength,” he said, “and I cannot there by the twisting of a system of veils she make him move one centimeter. It is neces- wore; and we had some difficulty in unravel- sary that as many people as possible lay hold ing this; but she was very much alive, as a of the car on the side away from the fire and series of muffled imprecations testified, lead- all lift together. Yes,” he added, “and very ing us to conclude that her sufferings were soon!” more profoundly of rage than of pain. Fi- Some carters had come from the road and nally she pushed our hands angrily aside and one of them lay full length on the ground completed the untanglement herself, reveal peering beneath the wreck. “It is the head of ing the scratched and smeared face of Ma- monsieur,” explained this one; “it is the head riana the dancer. of monsieur which is fastened under there." “Cornichon! Chameau! Fond du bain!” “Eh, but you are wiser than Clémenceau!" she gasped, tears of anger starting from her said the chauffeur. “Get up, my ancient, eyes. She tried to rise before we could help and you there, with the brushwood, let the her, but dropped back with a scream. fire go for a moment and help, when I say the “Oh, the pain!” she cried. “That imbe- word. And you, monsieur," he turned to cile! If he has let me break my leg! A pretty Ward, "if you please, will you pull with me dancer I should be! I hope he is killed.” upon the ankle here at the right moment?”. One of the singularities of motoring on the The carters, the laborers, the men from main-traveled roads near Paris is the preva- the other automobile, and I laid hold of the lence of cars containing physicians and sur- car together. geons. Whether it be testimony to the op “Now, then, messieurs, LIFT!” portunism, to the sporting proclivities, or to Stifled with the gasoline smoke, we obeyed. the prosperity of gentlemen of those pro- One or two hands were scorched and our fessions, I do not know, but it is a fact that eyes smarted blindingly, but we gave a mighty I have never heard of an accident (and in the heave, and felt the car rising. season there is an accident every day) on one “Well done!” cried the chauffeur. “Well of these roads when a doctor in an automo- done! But a little more! The smallest bile was not almost immediately a chance fraction-HA! It is finished, messieurs!” arrival, and fortunately our case offered no W e staggered back, coughing and wiping exception to this rule. Another automobile our eyes. For a minute or two I could not had already come up and the occupants were see at all, and was busy with a handkerchief. hastily alighting. Ward shouted to the fore Ward laid his hand on my shoulder. most to go for a doctor. “Do you know who it is?” he asked. “I am a doctor," the man answered, ad “Yes, of course," I answered. vancing and kneeling quickly by the dancer. When I could see again, I found that I was “And you—you may be of help yonder.” looking almost straight down into the up- We turned toward the ruined car where turned face of Larrabee Harman, and I can- Ward's driver was shouting for us. not better express what this man had come “What is it?” called Ward as we ran to be, and what the degradation of his life toward him. had written upon him, than by saying that “Monsieur," he replied, “there is some the dreadful mask I looked upon now was one under the tonneau here!” no more horrible a sight than the face I had The Guest of Quesnay 607 seen, fresh from the valet and smiling in ugly ter my departure from Paris I had but one pride at the starers, as he passed the terrace missive from him, a short note, written at the of Larue on the day before the Grand Prix. request of his sister, asking me to be on the lookout for Italian earrings, to add to her We helped to carry him to the doctor's collection of old jewels. So, from time to car, and to lift the dancer into Ward's, and time, I sent her what I could find about Capri to get both of them out again at the hospital or in Naples, and she responded with neat at Versailles, where they were taken. Then, little letters of acknowledgment. with no need to ask each other if we should Two years I stayed on Capri, eating the abandon our plan to breakfast in the coun- lotus which grows on that happy island, and try, we turned toward Paris, and rolled along painting very little just enough, indeed, to almost to the barriers in silence. be remembered at the Salon and not so much “Did it seem to you," said George finally, as knowing how kindly or unkindly they “that a man so frightfully injured could have hung my pictures there. But even on Capri, any chance of getting well?” people sometimes hear the call of Paris and "No," I answered. “I thought he was wish to be in that unending movement: to dying as we carried him into the hospital.” hear the multitudinous rumble, to watch the “So did I. The top of his head seemed procession from a café terrace and to dine at all crushed in- Whew!” He broke off, Foyot's. So there came at last a fine day when shivering, and wiped his brow. After a pause I, knowing that the horse-chestnuts were in he added thoughtfully, “It will be a great bloom along the Champs Elysées, threw my thing for Louise.” rope-soled shoes to a beggar, packed a rusty Louise was the name of his second cousin, trunk, and was off for the banks of the Seine. the girl who had done battle with all her fam- My arrival-just the drive from the Gare ily and then run away from them to be Larra- de Lyon to my studio—was like the shock bee Harman's wife. Remembering the stir of surf on a bather's breast. that her application for divorce had made, I The stir and life, the cheerful energy of did not understand how Harman's death could the streets, put stir and life and cheerful en- benefit her, unless George had some reason to ergy into me. I felt the itch to work again, believe that he had made a will in her favor. to be at it, at it in earnest—to lose no hour However, the remark had been made more of daylight, and to paint better than I had to himself than to me and I did not respond painted! Paris having given me this impetus, I The morning papers flared once more with dared not tempt her further, nor allow the the name of Larrabee Harman, and we read edge of my eagerness time to blunt; therefore, that there was “no hope of his surviving.” at the end of a fortnight, I went over into Ironic phrase! There was not a soul on Normandy and deposited that rusty trunk earth that day who could have hoped for his of mine in a corner of the summer pavilion recovery, or who—for his sake-cared two in the courtyard of Madame Brossard's inn, straws whether he lived or died. And the Les Trois Pigeons, in a woodland neighbor- dancer had been right; one of her legs was hood that is there. Here I had painted badly broken, and she would never dance through a prolific summer of my youth, and again. I was glad to find-as I had hoped-nothing Evening papers reported that Harman was changed; for the place was dear to me. Ma- “lingering.” He was lingering the next day. dame Brossard (dark, thin, demure as of yore, He was lingering the next week, and the end a fine-looking woman with a fine manner and of a month saw him still “lingering.” Then much the flavor of old Norman portraits) I went down to Capri, where--for he had been gave me a pleasant welcome, remembering after all the merest episode to me-I was me readily but without surprise, while Amé- pleased to forget all about him. dée, the antique servitor, cackled over me and was as proud of my advent as if I had been a new egg and he had laid me. The CHAPTER III simile is grotesque; but Amédée is the most henlike waiter in France. A GREAT many people keep their friends He is a white-haired, fat old fellow, as neat in mind by writing to them, but more do not; as a billiard-ball. In the daytime, when he and Ward and I belong to the majority. Af- is partly porter, he wears a black tie, a gray 608 Everybody's Magazine waistcoat broadly striped with scarlet, and, barrows. There was a long arbor, offering from waist to feet, a white apron like a skirt, a shelter of vines for those who might choose and so competently encircling that his trou to dine, breakfast, or lounge beneath, and sers are of mere conventionality and no real here and there among the shrubberies were necessity; but after six o'clock (becoming al- unexpected, straw-thatched bowers. My own together a maître d'hôtel) he is clad as any pavilion (half bedroom, half studio) was set other formal gentleman. At all times he in the midst of all and had a small porch of its wears a fresh tablecloth over his arm, keeping own with a rich curtain of climbing honey- an exaggerated pile of them ready at hand suckle for a screen from the rest of the court- on a ledge in one of the little bowers of the yard. courtyard, so that he may never be shamed The inn itself is gray with age, the roof by getting caught without one. sagging pleasantly here and there; and an His conception of life is that all worthy old wooden gallery runs the length of each persons were created as receptacles for food wing, the guest-chambers of the upper story and drink; and five minutes after my arrival opening upon it like the deck-rooms of a he had me seated in spite of some meek pro- steamer, while boxes of tulips and hyacinths tests) in a wicker chair with a pitcher of the make the gayest of border lines along the gal- right Three Pigeons cider on the table before lery railings and window ledges. me, while he subtly dictated what manner of Beyond the great open archway, which dinner I should eat. For this interval Amé- gives entrance to the courtyard, lies the quiet dée's exuberance was sobered and his badi- country road; passing this, my eyes followed nage dismissed as being mere garniture; the the wide sweep of poppy-sprinkled fields to a questions now before us concerning grave and line of low green hills; and there was the edge inward matters. His suggestions were def- of the forest that sheltered those woodland erential but insistent; his manner was that interiors which I had long ago tried to paint, of a prime minister who goes through the and where I should be at work to-morrow. form of convincing the sovereign. He greet- In the course of time, and well within the ed each of his own decisions with a very loud bright twilight, Amédée spread the crisp “Bien!” as if startled by the brilliancy of my white cloth and served me at a table on my selections, and, the menu being concluded, pavilion porch. He feigned anxiety lest I exploded a whole volley of “Biens" and set should find certain dishes (those which he off violently to instruct old Gaston the cook. knew were most delectable) not to my taste, That is Amédée's way; he always starts but was obviously so distended with fatuous violently for anywhere he means to go. He is pride over the whole meal that it became a a little lame and his progress more or less temptation to denounce at least some trifling sidelong, but if you call him, or new guests sauce or garnishment; nevertheless, so much arrive at the inn, or he receives an order from mendacity proved beyond me and I spared Madame Brossard, he gives the effect of run- him and my own conscience. This puffed- ning by a sudden movement of the whole uppedness of his was to be observed only in body like that of a man about to run, and his expression and manner, for during the moves off using the gestures of a man who is consumption of food it was his worthy cus- running; after which he proceeds to his des- tom to practise a ceremonious, nay, a rever- tination at an exquisite leisure. Remember- ential, hush, and he never offered (or ap- ing this old habit of his, it was with joy that I proved) conversation until he had prepared noted his headlong departure. Some ten feet the salad. That accomplished, however, and of his progress accomplished, he halted (for the water bubbling in the coffee machine, he no purpose but to scratch his head the more readily favored me with a discourse on the de- luxuriously); next, strayed from the path to cline in glory of Les Trois Pigeons. contemplate a rose-bush, and, selecting a leaf “Monsieur, it is the automobiles; they have with careful deliberation, placed it in his done it. Formerly, as when monsieur was mouth and continued meditatively upon his here, the painters came from Paris. They way to the kitchen. I chuckled within me; would come in the spring and would stay it was good to be back at Madame Brossard's. until the autumn rains. hat busy times The courtyard was more a garden; bright and what drolleries! Ah, it was gay in those with rows of flowers in formal little beds and days! Monsieur remembers well. Ha, ha! blossoming up from big green tubs, from red But now, I think, the automobiles have fright- jars, and also from two brightly painted wheel- ened away the painters; at least they do not The Guest of Quesnay 609 come any more. And the automobiles them- upper floor of the left wing they have taken selves; they come sometimes for lunch, a few, the grand suite-those two and their valet- but they love better the seashore, and we are de-chambre. That is truly the way in modern just close enough to be too far away. Those times—the philosophers are rich men.” automobiles, they love the big new hotels and “Yes," I sighed. “Only the painters are the casinos with roulette. They eat hastily, poor nowadays." gulp down a liqueur, and poul off they rush “Ha, ha, monsieur!” Amédée laughed for Trouville, for Beuzeval-Houlgate, for cunningly. “It was always easy to see that heaven knows where; and even the automo- monsieur only amuses himself with his paint- biles do not come so frequently as they did. ing." Our road used to be the best from Lisieux “Thank you, Amédée,” I responded. “I to Beuzeval, but now the maps recommend have amused other people with it too, I fear." another. They pass us by, and yet yonder- “Oh, without doubt!” he agreed gracious- only a few kilometers-is the coast with its ly, as he folded the cloth. I have always tried thousands. We are near the world but out to believe that it was not so much my pic- of it, monsieur.” tures as the fact that I paid my bills the day He poured my coffee; dropped a lump of they were presented which convinced every- sugar from the tongs with a benevolent ges- body about Les Trois Pigeons that I was an ture—“One lump: always the same. Mon amateur. But I never became happily sieur sees that I remember well, ha?”—and enough settled in this opinion to ask; and it the twilight having fallen, he lit two orange- was a relief that Amédée changed the subject. shaded candles and my cigar with the same “Monsieur remembers the Château de match. The night was so quiet that the Quesnay—at the crest of the hill on the road candle-lights burned as steadily as flames in north of Dives?” a globe, yet the air was spiced with a cool “I remember.” fragrance, and through the honeysuckle leaves “It is occupied this season by some rich above me I saw, as I leaned back in my Americans.” wicker chair, a glimmer of kindly stars. “How do you know they are rich ?”. “Very comfortably out of the world, Amé- “Dieu de Dieu!” The old fellow appealed dée,” I said. “It seems to me I have it all to heaven. “But they are Americans!” to myself.” “And therefore millionaires. Perfectly, “Unhappily, yes!” he exclaimed; then ex- Amédée.” cused himself, chuckling. “I should have “Perfectly, monsieur. Perhaps monsieur said that we should be happier if we had knows them.” many like monsieur. But it is early in the “Yes, I know them.” season to despair. Then, too, our best suite “Truly!” He affected dejection. “And is already engaged.” poor Madame Brossard thought monsieur “By whom?" had returned to our old hotel because he liked “Two men of science who arrive next week. it, and remembered our wine of Beaune and One is a great man. Madame Brossard is the good beds and old Gaston's cooking!” pleased that he is coming to Les Trois Pigeons, “Do not weep, Amédée," I said. “I have but I tell her it is only natural. He comes come to paint; not because I know the people now for the first time because he likes the who have taken Quesnay." And I added: quiet, but he will come again, like mon- “I may not see them at all.” sieur, because he has been here before. That In truth I thought that very probable. is what I always say: 'Any one who has been Miss Elizabeth had mentioned in one of her here must come again. The problem is only notes that Ward had leased Quesnay, but I to get them to come the first time. Truly!” had not sought quarters at Les Trois Pigeons .“Who is the great man, Amédée?” because it stood within walking-distance of the “Ah! A distinguished professor of sci château. In my industrious frame of mind ence. Truly." that circumstance seemed almost a draw- “What science?” back. Miss Elizabeth, ever hospitable to "I do not know. But he is a member of those whom she noticed at all, would be the Institute. Monsieur must have heard of doubly so in the country, as people always that great Professor Keredec?” are; and I wanted all my time to myself--no “The name is known. Who is the other?” very selfish wish since my time was not con- "A friend of his. I do not know. All the ceivably of value to any one else. I thought 610 Everybody's Magazine it wise to leave any encounter with the lady knowingness. “Ah, truly! When that lady to chance, and as the by-paths of the country- drives by, some day, in the carriage from the side were many and intricate, I intended, château-eh? Then monsieur will see how without ungallantry, to render the chance much he has to live for. Truly, truly, truly!” remote. George himself had just sailed on He had cleared the table, and now, with a a business trip to America, as I knew from final explosion of the word which gave him her last missive; and until his return, I should such immoderate satisfaction, he lifted the put in all my time at painting and nothing tray and made one of his precipitate de- else, though I liked his sister, as I have said, partures. and thought of her-often. “Amédée,” I said, as he slackened down Amédée doubted my sincerity, however, to his sidelong leisure. for he laughed incredulously. “Monsieur?” “Eh, well, monsieur enjoys saying it!” “Who is Madame d'Armand?” “Certainly. It is a pleasure to say what “A guest of Mademoiselle Ward at Ques- one means." nay. In fact, she is in charge of the châ- “But monsieur could not mean it. Mon- teau, since Mademoiselle Ward is, for the sieur will call at the château in the morning” time, away." the complacent varlet prophesied—“as “Is she a Frenchwoman?” early as it will be polite. I am sure of that. “I think not. In fact, she is an American, Monsieur is not at all an old man; no, not yet! though she dresses with so much of taste. Even if he were, aha! no one could possess Ah, Madame Brossard admits it and Ma- the friendship of that wonderful Madame dame Brossard knows the art of dressing, for d'Armand and remain away from the châ- she spends a week of every winter in Rouen teau.” —and besides there is Trouville itself only “Madame d'Armand?” I said. “That fifteen kilometers distant. Madame Bros- is not the name. You mean Mademoiselle sard says that Mademoiselle Ward dresses Ward.” with richness and splendor and Madame “No, no!” He shook his head and his d’Armand with economy, but beauty. Those fat cheeks bulged with a smile which I were the words used by Madame Brossard. believe he intended to express a respectful Truly.” roguishness. “Mademoiselle Ward”—he “Madame d’Armand's name is French," pronounced it “Ware”-“is magnificent; I observed. every one must fly to obey when she opens “Yes, that is true," said Amédée thought- her mouth. If she did not like the ocean there fully. “No one can deny it; it is a French below the chateau, the ocean would have to name.” He rested the tray upon a stump move! It needs only a glance to perceive near by and scratched his head. “I do not that Mademoiselle Ward is a great lady- understand how that can be,” he continued but Madame d'Armand! AHA!” He rolled slowly. “Jean Ferret, who is chief gardener his round eyes with an effect of unspeakable at the château, is an acquaintance of mine. admiration, and with a gesture indicated that We sometimes have a cup of cider at Père he would have kissed his hand to the stars, Baudry's, a kilometer down the road from had that been properly reverential to Ma- here; and Jean Ferret has told me that she dame d'Armand. “But monsieur knows is an American. And yet, as you say, mon- very well for himself,” he concluded archly. sieur, the name is French. Perhaps she is “Monsieur knows that you are very con- French after all.” fusing-even for a maître d'hôtel," I re- “I believe,” said I, “that if I struggled a turned. “We were speaking of the present few days over this puzzle, I might come to chatelaine of Quesnay, Mademoiselle Ward. the conclusion that Madame d'Armand is I have never heard of Madame d'Armand." an American lady who has married a French- “Monsieur is serious?" “Truly!” I answered, making bold to The old man uttered an exclamation of quote his shibboleth. triumph. “Then monsieur has truly much to live “Ha! without doubt! Truly she must be for. Truly!” He chuckled openly, convinced an American lady who has married a French- that he had obtained a marked advantage man. Monsieur has already solved the puz- in a conflict of wits, shaking his big head zle. Truly, truly!” And he trulied himself from side to side with an exasperating air of across the darkness, to emerge in the light of man." LEARN THE MASS OF MACHINERY HOISTED ITSELF IN THE AIR AS IF IT HAD A LIFE OF ITS OWN AND HAD BEEN STUNG INTO SUDDEN MADNESS. 611 612 Everybody's Magazine the open door of the kitchen with the word greets me with a familiar speech or bit of still rumbling in his throat. nonsense, or an unseen orchestra may play Now for a time there came the clinking of music that I know. From here I go into a dishes, sounds as of pans and kettles being spacious apartment where the air and light scoured, the rolling gutturals of old Gaston, are of a fine clarity, for it is the hall of rev- the cook, and the treble pipings of young elations, and in it the secrets of secrets are “Glouglou," his grandchild and scullion. told, mysteries are resolved, perplexities After a while the oblong of light from the cleared up, and sometimes I learn what to kitchen door disappeared; the voices departed; do about a picture that has bothered me. the stillness of the dark descended, and with This is where I would linger, for beyond it it that unreasonable sense of pathos which I walk among crowding fantasies, delusions, night in the country brings to the heart of a terrors and shame, to a curtain of darkness wanderer. Then, out of the lonely silence, where they take my memory from me, and there issued a strange, incongruous sound as I know nothing of my own adventures until an execrable voice essayed to produce the I am pushed out of a secret door into the semblance of an air odiously familiar about morning sunlight. Amédée was the ac- the streets of Paris some three years past, quaintance who met me in the antechamber and I became aware of a smell of some dread- to-night. He remarked that Madame d'Ar- ful thing burning. Beneath the arbor I mand was the most beautiful woman in perceived a spark which seemed to bear a the world, and vanished. And in the hall of certain relation to an oval whitish patch sug- revelations I thought that I found a statue gesting the front of a shirt. It was Amédée, of her—but it was veiled. I wished to re- at ease, smoking his cigarette after the day's move the veil, but a passing stranger stopped work and convinced that he was singing. and told me laughingly that the veil was all that would ever be revealed of her to me- Pour qu'j' finisse of her, or any other woman! Mon service Au Tonkin je suis parti- Ah ! quel beau pays, mesdames! C'est l' paradis des p'tites femmes ! CHAPTER IV I rose from the chair on my little porch, I was up with the birds in the morning; to go to bed; but I was reminded of some- had my breakfast with them-a very drowsy- thing, and called to him. eyed Amédée assisting-and made off for the “Monsieur?” his voice came briskly. forest to get the sunrise through the branches, “How often do you see your friend, Jean a pack on my back and three sandwiches for Ferret, the gardener of Quesnay?”. lunch in my pocket. I returned only with the “Frequently, monsieur. To-morrow morn- failing light of evening, cheerfully tired and ing I could easily carry a message if — ". ready for a fine dinner and an early bed, “That is precisely what I do not wish. both of which the good inn supplied. It was And you may as well not mention me at all my daily program; a healthy life “far from when you meet him.” the world,” as Amédée said, and I was sorry “It is understood. Perfectly.” when the serpent entered and disturbed it, “If it is well understood, there will be a though he was my own. He is a pet of mine; beautiful present for a good maître d'hôtel has been with me since my childhood. He some day." leaves me when I live alone, for he loves “Thank you, monsieur." company, but returns whenever my kind are “Good night, Amédée." about me. He is called Interest-In-Other- “Good night, monsieur." People's-Affairs. One evening I returned to find a big van Falling to sleep has always been an intri- from Dives, the nearest railway station, cate matter with me, and I liken it to a night drawn up in the courtyard at the foot of the ly adventure in an enchanted palace. Weary- stairs leading to the gallery, and all of the limbed and with burning eyelids, after long people of the inn, from Madame Brossard waiting in the outer court of wakefulness, I (who directed) to Glouglou (who madly at- enter a dim, cool antechamber where the tempted the heaviest pieces), busily installing heavy garment of the body is left behind and trunks, bags, and packing-cases in the suite where, perhaps, some acquaintance or friend engaged for the “great man of science" on The Guest of Quesnay 613 the second floor of the left wing of the build- “Have they come to seek out monsieur ing. Neither the great man nor his com- and disturb him? Have they done anything panion was to be seen, however, both having whatever to show that they have heard mon- retired to their rooms immediately upon their sieur is here?” arrival—so Amédée informed me, as he “No, certainly they haven't,” I was obliged wiped his brow after staggering up the steps to retract at once. “I beg your pardon, under a load of books wrapped in sacking. Amédée.” I made my evening ablutions, removing “Ah, monsieur!” He made a deprecatory a Joseph's coat of dust and paint; and came bow (which plunged me still deeper in shame), forth from my pavilion, hoping that Professor struck a match, and offered a light for my Keredec and his friend would not mind eat cigar with a forgiving hand. “All the same,'' ing in the same garden with a man in a cor-' he pursued, "it seems very mysterious—this duroy jacket and knickerbockers; but the Keredec affair!” gentlemen continued invisible to the public “To comprehend a great man, Amédée," eye, and mine was the only table set for din- I said, “is the next thing to sharing his great- ner in the garden. Up-stairs the curtains ness." were carefully drawn across all the windows He blinked slightly, pondered a moment of the left wing; little leaks of orange, here upon this sententious drivel, then very prop- and there, betraying the lights within. Glou- erly ignored it, reverting to his puzzle. glou, bearing a tray of covered dishes, was “But is it not incomprehensible that peo- just entering the salon of the “Grande Suite," ple should eat indoors this fine weather?” and the door closed quickly after him. I admitted that it was. I knew very well “It is to be supposed that Professor Ker- how hot and stuffy the salon of Madame edec and his friend are fatigued with their Brossard's “grande suite" must be, while journey from Paris?” I began, a little later. the garden was fragrant in the warm, dry "Monsieur, they did not seem fatigued,” night, and the outdoor air like a gentle tonic. said Amédée. Nevertheless, Professor Keredec and his “But they dine in their own rooms to friend preferred the salon. ... night." When a man is leading a very quiet and “Every night, monsieur. It is the order isolated life, it is inconceivable what trifles of Professor Keredec. And with their own will occupy and concentrate his attention. valet-de-chambre to serve them. Eh?” He The smaller the community, the more blowzy poured my coffee solemnly. “That is mys- with gossip you are sure to find it; and I have terious, to say the least, isn't it?” little doubt that when Friday learned enough “To say the very least," I agreed. English, one of the first things Crusoe did “Monsieur the professor is a man of was to tell him some scandal about the goat. secrets, it appears,” continued Amédée. Thus, though I treated the “Keredec affair" “When he wrote to Madame Brossard en with a seeming airiness to Amédée, I cun- gaging his rooms, he instructed her to be ningly drew the faithful rascal out, and fed careful that none of us should mention even my curiosity upon his own (which, as time his name; and to-day when he came, he spoke went on and the mystery deepened, seemed of his anxiety on that point.” likely to burst him), until, virtually, I was “But you did mention it." receiving, every evening at dinner, a detailed "To whom, monsieur?” asked the old report of the day's doings of Professor Kere- fellow blankly. dec and his companion. “To me." The reports were voluminous, the details “But I told him I had not,” said Amédée few. The two gentlemen, as Amédée would placidly. “It is the same thing." relate, spent their forenoons over books and "I wonder," I began, struck by a sudden writing in their rooms. Professor Keredec's thought, “if it will prove quite the same voice could often be heard in every part of thing in my own case. I suppose you have the inn; at times holding forth with such pro- not mentioned the circumstance of my being tracted vehemence that only one explanation here to your friend, Jean Ferret of Quesnav?” would suffice: that the learned man was de- He looked at me reproachfully. “Has livering a lecture to his companion. monsieur been troubled by the people of the “Say then!” exclaimed Amédée, "what château?” kind of madness is that? To make orations ""Troubled' by them?" for only one auditor!” 614 Everybody's Magazine He swept away my suggestion that the turned after an hour or so, entering the inn auditor might be a stenographer to whom the with the same appearance of haste to be out professor was dictating chapters for a new of sight, the professor always talking, "with book. The relation between the two men, the manner of an orator, but in English.” he contended, was more like that between Nevertheless Amédée remarked it was certain teacher and pupil. “But a pupil with gray that Professor Keredec's friend was neither hair!” he finished, raising his fat hands to an American nor an Englishman. heaven. “For that other monsieur has hair . “Why is it certain ?" I asked. as gray as mine." “Monsieur, he drinks nothing but water, "That other monsieur” was further de- he does not smoke, and Glouglou says he scribed as a thin man, handsome, but with a speak's very pure French.” “singular air," nor could my colleague more “Glouglou is an authority who resolves the satisfactorily define this air, though he made difficulty. That other monsieur is a French- a racking struggle to do so. man.” “In what does the peculiarity of his man- “But, monsieur, he is smooth-shaven." ner lie?” I asked. “Perhaps he has been a maître d'hôtel.” “But it is not so much that his manner is “Eh! I wish one that I know could hope peculiar, monsieur; it is an air about him to dress as well when he retires! Besides, that is singular. Truly!” Glouglou says that other monsieur eats his “But how is it singular?” soup silently." “Monsieur, it is very, very singular.” "I can find no flaw in the deduction,” I “You do not understand," I insisted. said, rising to go to bed. “We must leave “What kind of singularity has the air of it there for to-night.” 'that other monsieur'?” The next evening Amédée allowed me to “It has," replied Amédée, with a powerful perceive that he was concealing something effort, “a very singular singularity." under his arm as he stoked the coffee-ma- This was as near as he could come, and, chine, and upon my asking what it was, he fearful of injuring him, I abandoned that glanced round the courtyard with histrionic phase of our subject. slyness, placed the object on the table beside The valet-de-chambre whom my fellow my cap, and stepped back to watch the im- lodgers had brought with them from Paris pression, his manner that of one who de- contributed nothing to the inn's knowledge claims: “At last the missing papers are be- of his masters, I learned. This struck me not fore you!” only as odd, but unique, for French servants “What is this?” I said. tell one another everything, and more-very “It is a book.” much more. “But this is a silent man,” “I am persuaded by your candor, Amédée, said Amédée impressively. “Oh! very silent! as well as by the general appearance of this He shakes his head wisely, yet he will not article,” I returned as I picked it up, “that open his mouth. However, that may be be- you are speaking the truth. But why do cause”-and now the explanation came you bring it to me?" “because he was engaged only last week and “Monsieur,” he replied, in the tones of an knows nothing. Also, he is but temporary; old conspirator, “this afternoon the professor he returns to Paris soon and Glouglou is to and that other monsieur went as usual to walk serve them.” in the forest.” He bent over me, pretending I ascertained that although “that other to be busy with the coffee-machine, and low- monsieur” had gray hair, he was by no means ering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “When a person of great age; indeed, Glouglou, who they returned, this book fell from the pocket had seen him oftener than any other of the of that other monsieur's coat as he ascended staff, maintained that he was quite young. the stair, and he did not notice. Later I Amédée's own opportunities for observation shall return it by Glouglou, but I thought it had been limited. Every afternoon the two wise that monsieur should see it for himself." gentlemen went for a walk; but they always The book was Wentworth's “Algebra”- came down from the gallery so quickly, he elementary principles. Painful recollections declared, and, leaving the inn by a rear en- of my boyhood and the binomial theorem trance, plunged so hastily into the nearest rose in my mind as I let the leaves turn under by-path leading to the forest, that he caught my fingers. “What do you make of it?" I little more than glimpses of them. They re- asked. The Baiting of Rosenthal 615 His tone became even more confidential. were two grown men-one an eminent psy- Part of it, monsieur, is in English; that is chologist and the other a gray-haired youth plain. I have found an English word in it with a singular air-carrying about on their that I know, the word 'O' but much of the walks a text-book for the instruction of boys printing is also in Arabic.” of thirteen or fourteen? “Arabic!” I exclaimed. The next day that curiosity of mine was “Yes, monsieur, look there.” He laid a piqued in earnest. It rained and I did not fat forefinger on “(a + b)2-a2 + 2ab + b2.” leave the inn, but sat under the great archway “ That is Arabic. Old Gaston has been to Al- and took notes in color of the wet road, geria, and he says that he knows Arabic as drenched fields, and dripping skv. My back well as he does French. He looked at the was toward the courtyard, that is, “three book and told me it was Arabic. Truly! quarters” to it, and about noon I became Truly!” distracted from my work by a strong self- “Did he translate any of it for you?” consciousness which came upon me without “No, monsieur, his eyes pained him this any visible or audible cause. Obeying an afternoon. He says he will read it to-mor impulse, I swung round on my camp-stool row." and looked up directly at the gallery window “But you must return the book to of the salon of the “Grande Suite.” A man night.” with a great white beard was standing at the "That is true. Eh! It leaves the mystery window, half hidden by the curtain, watching deeper than ever, unless monsieur can find me intently. some clue in those parts of the book that are. He perceived that I saw him and dropped English." the curtain immediately, a speck of color in I shed no light upon him. The book had his buttonhole catching my eve as it fell. been Greek to me in my tender years; it was The spy was Professor Keredec. a pleasure now to leave a fellow being under But why should he study me so slyly and the impression that it was Arabic. But the yet so obviously? I had no intention of in- volume took its little revenge upon me, for truding upon him. Nor was I a psycholog- it increased my curiosity about Professor ical “specimen,” though I began to suspect Keredec and “that other monsieur.” Why that “that other monsieur” WAS. The second instalment of Mr. Tarkington's story, “The Guest of Quesnay," will appear in the December number. The Baiting of Rosenthal By HENRY C. ROWLAND Illustrations by George Wright THE feud between Klein and Rosenthal had begun in Buenos Ayres over Adèle Tremont, the singer. Klein was at tached to the German Legation and little more than a boy; Isidor Rosenthal was a Czechian Jew who had got rich in various West Indian schemes, from the lending of money on a pearl shirt-stud to the financing of revolutions. To escape Rosenthal, Klein resigned his office and escorted Miss Tremont to Rio. Rosenthal, persistent in love as in finance, followed them, for he knew that Klein did not have money enough to retain the lady's interest for any length of time. Klein knew it also and it made him desperate, especially as Rosenthal was too good a man of business to fight when all that he had to do was to wait. The Jew was not afraid; it was simply that the dueling idea was not framed on sound commercial principles. The result was that Klein waited for his chance and publicly insulted him at the club, pulled his nose, and then, when the Jew brushed him aside with one sweep of his great arm, threw a glass of wine in his face. HE SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY IN HIS HAMMOCK. Even then Rosenthal would not fight, but consigner; he went at once to the health neither would he leave the lists; he continued officer of the port and told him that he hap- his not entirely unwelcome attentions to Miss pened to know that there was smallpox in Tremont. This kept Klein in so furious a Aquin, where the coffee had been taken on. state of impotent rage that the lady became The sloop was quarantined, pending investi- frightened and accepted an invitation from gation, and before her captain could procure the Count Stigiliano to go to Jamaica in his a tug to pump, the water reached the cargo, yacht. which promptly swelled and burst the vessel Rosenthal, with a sardonic grin, threw up open, thereby costing Klein about ten thou- his hand and got back to business, while sand dollars. Klein, almost ruined, and, if the truth were When the whole story got to Klein's ears, known, heart-broken, for he was very young, he turned as white as chalk and the pupils German, and had really loved the woman, of his eyes grew so large that one could see was prevented from suicide only by the de- only a rim of blue the breadth of a knife's sire to be revenged upon Rosenthal. edge. Then he got purple and the pupils Eventually he accepted a position as agent contracted to pin-points, while the blue eyes of the Hamburg Line and was sent to Grand themselves became glazed like the eyes of Goâves, Haiti, where he settled down to ex- a dead pompano. A Teuton blood-rage, la- port coffee and cacao and brood over the tent since the cycle of stone clubs and great day when he should square his account with cave-bears, seethed up in him and shook him Rosenthal, who, he learned, had taken his until he grew sick and giddy. He spent the invalid brother Jacob to Capri. rest of the day in his hammock, his eyes band- Rosenthal's hatred was of the sardonic aged and a negress fanning him. His phy- sort that goes with a bare-toothed grin and a sique could not stand the strain of such a twinkle of the eyes that is mostly gleam; rage as his enemy's act had stirred within nevertheless it was potent, as potent as him. Klein's, and much more effective. A year T he following day all emotion had van- later he scored against his enemy. ished and Klein's German brain began to Klein had loaded a sloop with coffee, on calculate. To his surprise he found that he his own account, and sent her to Curaçao, could think of Rosenthal quite unemotion- where the cargo was to be transshipped to an ally. Klein's problem was a difficult one. Italian boat with a low freight tariff. Rosen- He did not want to murder the Jew; killing thal happened to be in the Dutch colony a man is a poor sort of revenge at best. On when the sloop arrived, leaking badly from the other hand, Klein did not see how he the straining received in a rough passage. could do Rosenthal physical damage. The The water was gaining on the pumps and Jew would not duel and he stood six feet the captain was frightened, for he knew that two, weighing about two hundred pounds, if it once reached the coffee, all would be up most of which was heavy bone covered with with vessel and cargo. The news reached great bands of sinewy muscle. His lean Rosenthal, together with the name of the wrist was as thick as Klein's forearm, and he 616 The Baiting of Rosenthal 617 could have squeezed the life out of the highly thick mustache went up, and he bared his strung little German with one of his hairy yellow fangs in an expansive grin. paws; also he was far too rich for Klein to “Py Jingo!” he exclaimed, for he usually harm in any business way. made it a point to speak the language that Klein was unable to find a solution, but he was being spoken about him, “it is my old decided that his best chance lay in keeping frendt, Mr. Klein!” near his enemy. He learned that Rosenthal Like Rosenthal, Klein spoke most of the was in Caracas, so he went there, only to hear languages with which the Powers have that the Jew had run over to Colon to dis- crammed the West Indies, so he answered in pose of some Margarita pearls bought from English, and their conversation proceeded in a Dutch negro, who did a sort of kite business that tongue. among the pearl pelicans having illicit gems “So ...! It is our practical joker, Isidor to dispose of. So Klein took the next steamer Rosenthal!” from Porto Cabello to Cartagena and thence A flash of surprise crossed the mocking to Colon. face of the Jew. He had not looked for so The day of his arrival he saw Rosenthal much sang-froid in the young German. He boarding the train for Panama, so Klein made room beside him. followed. The car was packed with tour “Will you not share my seat? Ah, you ists from the Royal Mail steamer, who were have reference to that matter of the coffee! making an excursion to see the canal; and Py Jingo! I acted very badly! I afterward in the crowd Klein, who was slender and was ashamed of myself ... because, you polite, found himself jammed against his en- see, I gave way to an impulse . . . and had emy's back. A man in a seat beside them not a dollar to gain by it!” vacated it to join a friend ahead; Rosenthal “It did not much matter," said Klein. slid into the seat, then looked up and saw He sat down beside the Jew and pulled a Klein. His bushy, black evebrows and his Colon Star from his pocket. “The stuff EVEN THEN ROSENTHAL WOULD NOT FIGHT. 618 Everybody's Magazine did not belong to me, although it was in my “Do you want a receipt?” he asked. name. I was acting for a friend--a Dr. “Oh, no,” said the Jew. “If Leyden was Leyden.” willing to trust you, I can.” He made an- Rosenthal started upright; his big yellow other wry face. “Let us talk of something teeth came together with a crack, and he swore else.” a violent Czechian oath beneath his breath. Klein pocketed the money with an odd “Leyden! My good friend Leyden! There, feeling of chagrin. The passion of his re- what an ass a man can make of himself venge seemed suddenly to have been cooled by a blind impulse! That little joke will without being in any measure satisfied, and cost me . . . how much? What did he lose? he felt himself defrauded. Presently he He shall have back every dollar! Leyden reached into his pocket and pulled out his once saved the life of the little Jacob ... wallet. my brother!” “Here,” he said to Rosenthal, “take your Klein glanced at the Jew in surprise. He filthy money. I lied to you. The coffee had lied instinctively, as one does to conceal belonged to me. Leyden had nothing what- a hurt given by an enemy. Rosenthal's big, ever to do with it." savage face was seamed with lines of the most Rosenthal sta red; his great, muddy, hazel unutterable chagrin. He continued to swear eyes, shot with brown spots, opened wide; softly to himself. the bushy eyebrows went up, the big mouth Klein made pretense of reading his paper. fell open. Without a word, his hairy paw went His eyes followed the English words while out unconsciously for the notes; and, still his ears gathered in Rosenthal's self-revilings. staring, he folded them and tucked them into Klein's brain was working rapidly in German. his pocket as if acting under a reflex. Then Gentle-born though he was, all principles all at once expression swept into his wolfish of honor were dead in him where his enemy face, and he threw back his head and roared was concerned. He wondered at the Jew's with laughter. gullibility. Rosenthal was, as a matter of “Py Jingo, but you aristocrats are funny! fact, a keen judge of human nature. His You tell me a lie to save your pride; then, estimate of Klein was of a man too proud to still to save it, you pay $10,000 for the privi- stoop to Levantine methods, and this was a lege of telling the truth! Ha, ha, ha! ..." true estimate had Klein been in his normal Klein sat stiff as a ramrod. His face was condition. very pale and all of his former hate and re- “Look here,” Rosenthal said suddenly, pugnance welled up until it came near to “how much did that little joke of mine suffocating him. He had bought back his cost?" blood-lust in full measure. “A little less than ten thousand dollars,” “Py Jiminy!” said Rosenthal when his said Klein. ' “The boat was chartered, and laughter had subsided, “I would like to give so the loss of her fell upon the captain.” you back this money! It would spoil a good "And serve him right!” snarled Rosen- joke, but still I would like to give it back; thal. “He had no business to load a valua- but,” he looked searchingly at Klein, “I do ble cargo into a rotten vessel!” He made a not believe that you would take it. You wry face. “Py Jingo, but a too keen şense would rather get square on your own hook, of humor can be expensive! Ha . . .!” He scowled, then plunged his hand into his Klein looked out of the window without pocket and pulled out a roll of crisp Amer- answering. He was reflecting curiously on ican bank-notes. “Leyden is too good a the fact that the Jew's sense of injury done fellow to have suffer. I owe him now more and received referred entirely to the mone- than I can ever pay for his efforts with the tary loss of the coffee. The matter of Miss little Jacob!” Tremont and the affront rendered by Klein Klein watched him in amazement as he were apparently unworthy of consideration. peeled off ten notes for $1,000 each and “Yes,” said Rosenthal, nodding vigorous- handed them to him. ly, “that was a nasty act of mine. I acted “Give these to Leyden,” he said, “and tell on impulse. I considered that you would him that, if he likes, he can add six per cent have done as much for me. You wanted to interest for the loss of his profit.” kill me, and I wanted to ruin you. Each one In a state of bewilderment Klein thrust to his taste. You hold that a man's money the money into his wallet. is no good to him without his life, and I that yes?” 620 Everybody's Magazine his life is even less than no good without money. It all comes to the same thing." “Then you value your money more than you do your life?” Klein asked. “By no means. It is not a question of values but of what hurts one the most, the loss of life or of money. I claim the latter, because one has longer to think about it. The loss of life is all over in a minute, like the blowing out of a candle ... pouf!” and Rosenthal puffed his hairy cheeks and nearly blew the hat from the head of the woman tourist in front of them., “I suppose," said Klein, “that to a man like you the loss of money gives an almost physical distress.” Rosenthal grinned. “It hurts,” he ad- mitted, “but very much it depends upon how it is done. If I gamble and lose it hurts, but not much if the game has been a fair one. But if I were to lose and discover af- terward that I had been tricked . . . Ach Gottl . . . Py Jingo! That would be terri- ble! That happened to me once . . . that I was befooled, and it made me sick ... sick to vomiting, and afterward I had such an attack of the liver that I had to go to Carlsbad for a cure.” When they parted in Panama, Rosenthal clapped Klein on the shoulder and said: "When you want that $10,000 back, you have only to ask for it. It is nothing to me. I make it in a day, but you aristocrats are children in business beside us Jews!” He gave his harsh, explosive laugh, and just for a second the blood surged up into Klein's temples, while the gale of hatred that swept through him gave him an instant of giddiness. that revealed a set of perfect teeth. “A de- lightful evening, is it not?" He seated him- self in an embrasure facing Klein. “It is very pleasant," said the German stiff- ly. He rose to his feet with a nod and turned away. “Pray do not go,” said the other. “Let us indulge in a little discourse. Are we not both in the same predicament ... alone?” “But I do not find it a predicament,” said Klein coldly. “Ah, then you are not blessed with my social nature. I am of those who, like Abou- ben-Adhem, asks only to be written as one who loves his fellow men.” Klein paused and glanced at him curi- ously. The man's face was weak but intelli- gent. Klein's eyes dropped to the hands, which were moving nervously. They were fat, but graceful as a girl's, with supple, taper- ing fingers, carefully kept. They were hands with an expression, albeit not a pleasing one; a something suggesting technical skill of a furtive sort; the hands of a pickpocket, a safe- breaker, or a prestidigitator. The man observed Klein's scrutiny and smiled. His voice lost its suave formality and assumed a vulgar tone. “You're tryin' to dope me out by my fins," he said. “Well, pard, what am I?” Klein flushed. “A barber?” he asked. “Not quite," said the man. “I'll tell ye. My name's Blake an' I'm a sleight-o’-hand artist. Card tricks 're my specialty." His face grew eager. “For ten dollars, my frien', or even five dollars, I can put you next to a trick that will enable you to limit your gains an' losses in poker, euchre, or écarté only by the amount of money that your helpless ad- versary is willing to stake!” T he fellow's voice returned to the pseudo- educated drawl of the “gentleman grafter." Klein's lip curled in disgust and he stepped back. “I am not interested,” he said. “I never play cards. Good day.” “Say, just wait a minute!” cried Blake. “Let me show you something . . . just for fun!” He whipped a greasy pack of cards from his pocket and stepped to the broad rampart, where he seated himself. Klein lingered unwillingly. “You know écarté?” asked Blake, shuf- fling. “Well, then, let's deal a few hands just as if we were sittin' in a little game, and if you pipe anything phony I'll chuck the cards into the wet an' apply for a job loadin' Klein spent several days in Panama, but got no nearer the solution of his problem. He saw Rosenthal often and discovered that the Jew gambled every evening with one of his friends in the Hotel Marina, where he was quartered. So, to be nearer him, Klein went to the same hotel. Then one day opportunity walked up to him with smooth steps. He was sitting on the ramparts of the old fort watching the pelicans diving for fish, when there ap- proached a bland and unctuous individual with the look and manner of an itinerant evangelist. He was long-haired, smooth- shaven, and bulbous with the pallid fat that adversity seems to put upon some men. He stopped on reaching Klein. “Good afternoon,” he said, with a smile The Baiting of Rosenthal 621 flat-cars in Culebra. Then I'll lay down a Blake's flabby face was doubtful. few cold poker hands, and if after that you “Oh, I guess if I was sure—” he began. feel like buyin' ten dollars' worth of useful “Once or twice I've sat opposite some guy education in the tin-horn line, I bet you'll like myself and put it all over him; but then never be sorry!” I'd want to be dead sure," he added. “Any- Klein found himself listening to and way, that kind of a man ain't apt to play for watching a remarkable card trickster. Each much.” of the man's supple fingers seemed to possess “Are you known at all here in Panama ?” a separate intelligence. He could pick a card asked Klein, his blue eyes beginning to gleam. from the top of the pack with the back of “No; I just got in last night, busted. his hand, hold and play ten cards as though Slung dishes down here from San Diego.” there were but five, while on the draw he “I will make you a proposition," said could apparently get any cards necessary to Klein. “It is the chance of your lifetime. "fill." All of the while he kept up a running There is a man in this city, a big Jew named conversation, the tone of which lapsed in a Rosenthal, who has caused me to lose a great peculiar way from that of the man of com- deal of money. He is a gambler, very rich, parative education to that of the cheap, bar- and willing to play for almost any stake. room gambler, or suddenly assumed the He is big and black and fierce-looking, but stilted expressions and popular slang of the he will not fight. I pulled his nose and threw side-show “barker.” Klein was alternately a glass of wine in his face and he took it interested, repelled, and amused. The crea- before a roomful of players. Now I will ture seemed formless as a jelly-fish in all but stake you with $10,000. We can play to- his marvelous craft. gether in the Hotel Marina, where he comes “But I do not understand!” cried the Ger every evening, and you can appear to win man, when Blake had finished. “Why do all of my money at écarté and then he will you for ten dollars teach men to swindle one want to play with you and you can taunt him another when you might gain thousands by into playing for very large stakes. I will swindling them yourself?” give you half of all that you win until my Blake smiled and his shifting glance fell. share has reached $10,000, which is the “Well, pard," said he, “to tell you the amount that he cost me. After that you can truth, I haven't got the nerve." keep for yourself all that you make; and the “What do you mean?”. more that is, the better it will please me.” “Just that. When I've got a deck in my Blake listened with his eyes upon his hands for exhibition purposes, I'm right at cards. Once or twice he lifted them in a home; I defy any one to get wise; but the quick, shifting glance to the German's face, minute I sit in a game I lose my sand. I then dropped them again. get shaky and nervous, and if I ain't careful “Humph!” said he, when Klein had fin- I give the whole graft away, especially if I'm ished. “It sounds all right, but how do you leary of my crowd, if I think that maybe know he'll play up?" He shuffled the cards there's a gun man in the bunch. Twice I've nervously. got mauled so's I could have passed myself “Because," said Klein, "he has the repu- on the street without recognition, and once tation of being the most daring gambler in the I was nearly killed . .. but that ain't any West Indies-at cards, that is. He is too lack of skill,” he added eagerly; “it's jest clever to play the wheel or faro or any game becuz I'm a soft-hearted grafter and wise where the odds are against him.” enough to know it. I could put you next “You're dead sure he's sandless?” asked so's you could win thousands, becuz you ’re a Blake suspiciously. “You ain't lettin' me in nervy proposition. Any fool could see that.” for no rough-house?” His flaccid face was Klein did not at once answer; he was think- filled with distrust. ing deeply. Presently he turned to Blake. “No," said Klein. “I believe that he has "You say that you are afraid,” he said courage enough, but he will not fight; it is with a tinge of contempt; “but what if you not his nature.” were playing a two-handed game with a man “Where's your money?” asked Blake who you knew would not employ violence, sulkily. who, if he discovered you, would simply de- “Here is a thousand in my pocket," said mand his money back and call you a few Klein, "and drafts up to the value of ten hard names? Would that affect your skill?” thousand." “LET ME ALONE!" HE SHRIEKED. “LET ME GO!" Blake began to lick his dry lips. watched idly until at the end of the game “Let's walk along a spell," he said. “I they saw Klein shove a fifty-dollar bill toward sort of want to think it over. ...". his opponent; then their backs straightened and they watched with interest. In a spacious stone-walled room of the old Presently a heavy tread sounded on the Hotel Marina, with the lap of water under stairs, and Klein thrust his foot against neath the window and the strum of a guitar Blake's. Rosenthal came in, glanced about coming faintly from somewhere in the murky the room with his wolfish glare, and his distance, Klein and the card trickster sat at eyes lighted as they fell on Klein sitting at a table and played their profitless game. play with the sleek-faced stranger. Presently some loungers entered and “Py Jiminy!” muttered the Jew, and 622 The Baiting of Rosenthal 623 walked up to the table. “Ecarté? For how much?” Neither of the players answered. “Fifty dollars a game!" whispered a man. “Py Jingo! That is not a bad game," said Rosenthal, and set himself to watch. As a game of écarté takes but a few minutes to play, the stake was a high one. Klein and Blake played on, Klein losing steadily. A few others drifted in to watch the play. At ten o'clock Klein had appar ently lost over $800. The poor light was favorable to Blake, who manipulated the cards for practise under the eyes of the spec- tators. Although the game was but a blind, Klein's sensitive nature reflected the tension of the crowd. His face was pale, his pupils dilated, and he sipped nervously at the glass of beer at his elbow. No one would have believed that the play was only a lure. At twelve o'clock Klein turned a pallid face toward his opponent. He had lost, as it ap- peared, $1,000. He drew out his wallet and laid down his losings in ten bank-notes of $100 each. “Mr. Blake,” he said, “this is practically all of the money that I have at my disposal. Honor will not permit me to continue a game the losses of which I might be unable to pay." A murmur ran around the room. Rosen- thal gurgled. “He played his hands like a schoolboy," he whispered harshly. “He does not know how to discard. Ecarté is all in the draw." Blake, an able actor, shifted uneasily in his chair, chewing the end of his cigar. “Oh, well,” he said, “I don't like to clean out a good sport. You had darned bad luck, Mr. Klein. ...” He reached for Klein's money, then thrust toward him a fifty-dollar bill. “I always leave a man a stake,” he said with boorish generosity. “Panama's a poor place to go broke in ... hey, boys?” He glanced at the crowd. "He's all right," said a voice from some- where. Rosenthal, his big face working with eager- ness, leaned over the table. To fleece a man like Klein seemed to the world-wise Jew like tearing money from a child. Keen observer that he was and schooled in human character, he read Blake's face at its real value, and it cut him to his Semitic soul to see so weak a vessel taking money from a novice. “Would you like to play a little more?” he asked. “It is a good game, écarté.” Blake glanced at his watch. “Not to- night, thanks,” he answered with a yawn. “Too late, ’n’ I got to go out to Culebra to- morrow. I'm a contractor, you know,” he continued with a clever imitation of a bibu- lous confidence which embraced the roomful. “I come down here to make a bid on movin’ dirt out o' the big ditch." “It is not very late,” said Rosenthal; “only twelve o'clock.” Blake yawned, then looked the Jew over with a slow indifference that would have been insulting to a dog. “Oh, well,” he said, with another yawn, “I don't mind playing for an hour more ... that is, if you want to play for something." He looked again at Rosenthal as though to assay him socially and financially. “You people,” he said, with an easy inference of the man's unmistakable race, “don't like to lose your money very well. Better let it alone, m’ friend. You're up against an old hand.” The blood rushed into Rosenthal's fierce, Mephistophelian face; his huge black eye- brows were drawn down over his odd hazel eyes with their dark-brown dots. In his anger his accent lapsed. “Mein Gott !” he burst out. “I vill play you for a t'ousand a game if you like!” Blake laughed sneeringly. “That's nearer my figure,” he said; “I wish you had it.” “I vill show you vhat I have," snarled the Jew. “It is easy to see you are a stranger in the West Indies. Do you know who I am?" He threw out his great chest. “I am Isidor Rosenthal.” Blake summoned all of his rabbit's courage to give vent to a sneering laugh. The aspect of the big Jew was alarming. The red blood burned through his swarthy skin; his face was such as a master sculptor might have cut in half a dozen deep gashes; fierce, dominant, savage, almost demoniac. The whole torso was tense, big deltoids bunching under his black mohair coat, forearms putting the sleeves upon the stretch, and his brown, gem- laden fists cracking as he clenched them. Blake admirably hid his fright; his flaccid face was white and his eyes had the look of a child about to be chastised; vet the man was an actor, an artist in all but spirit, and he was playing for a big stake. He summoned all of his feeble courage to brazen the thing out. “Oh, well,” he said, shuffling the cards, “I'll play with you for a thousand a game if 624 Everybody's Magazine you like. I guess your money is as good as it back untouched. He threw the cards upon anybody's, if you've got it with you. I the table and they cut for deal, Rosenthal thought maybe you had it all lent out at cutting high, which in écarté makes the deal. eighteen and a half per cent.” “For how much?” asked Blake as Rosen- A ripple of nervous laughter went around thal dealt three, then two, cards to each. the room. Rosenthal, his yellow teeth shin- The Jew shrugged. “For what you like," ing, reached in his pocket and hauled out a he said; then before laying down the trump bulging wallet. Klein gazed at him in amaze- glared at the trickster from under his black ment. Not when he had pulled his nose in eyebrows. “Did I not hear you say some- the club at Rio had the Jew's face ex- thing about a thousand a game?”. hibited such ferocity. Then a boy was try Blake gulped in his dry throat. ing to taunt him into a silly act; here a craven "I... I'm game,” he answered huskily. hearted Gentile was daring him to stand “Good,” said Rosenthal, and they began forth armed with the Jew's own weapon, to play. money, and fight him on his own field, the. The Jew was a born gambler; he played field of chance. . honestly but with an acumen that discounted “You are right," snarled Rosenthal, “it cheap trickery; but Blake, although no true is all out at interest, but I still carry with me gambler, was no cheap trickster. He was a little with which to amuse myself of an a master of legerdemain, and his manipula- evening.” tion of the cards while playing with Klein He began to peel off bills of $100 each; still under the eyes of the Jew had given him deeper he came to the five hundreds, all with confidence. the flourish of a ringmaster and a swing that Rosenthal, for all his experience in games should show those present what he held in his of chance, did not suspect his adversary. hands. The man was in his element. He His instincts were keen as those of a woman loved to show his money; not in horses nor or a wild animal. He felt Blake's lack of yachts nor railroads nor ships, but concretely, force and the resulting contempt blinded stamped in official type upon negotiable paper. him to the danger in the man. An experi- He gloried in the dazzling effect of absolute ence of many years had taught him to asso- money, whether it crackled or rang or scintil- ciate clever trickery with cool nerve. lated from the facet of a stone. Rosenthal won the first game and took A quiver ran through Blake at the sight of $1,000 from Blake. The trickster's odds the naked money so shamelessly bared by were two to one; he might win on the Jew's the Jew, but it was a quiver of fright rather deal; if he willed it so, he was certain to win than of lust. Klein caught the weakening on his own. Yet with these odds in his favor flicker on Blake's face and kicked him under his face was ashen and bathed in sweat; and the table. It was like putting the spur tó an this, too, was, as far as appearance went, all able but poor-spirited hunter confronted by a in his favor, for Rosenthal chuckled inwardly brush fence. Blake began to shuffle the cards. at the trepidation of his adversary. Rosen- “All right,” he said, a bit tremulously; thal himself was entirely honest. He could be “when you get through waving that dough cruel, cunning, and remorseless as a weasel, around the room I'll give you a run for some as in the matter of Klein's coffee, but he had of it; only”—he leaned over and reached out never stolen a cent in his life, nor had he his fat, gracile hand—“let's have a look at needed to do so with his genius for money- one of those big uns, pardner.” getting It was a master insult. Rosenthal grew The game went on. Blake, cheating only white about the lips and just for a second when it became necessary, began to take Blake's fat throat was dangerously near the thousand after thousand from the Tew. grip of the Jew's strong fingers. But Rosen- Rosenthal's savage features became set in thal was a man of the world. a puzzled scowl. Perhaps because of confi- “Py Jingo!” he cried, “I see you are not dence in his own skill, or because of some used to playing with real money. Here” subtle instinct, before long he became sus- he tossed the entire roll to Blake-"examine picious. He began to watch, not openlı, them all; I will not even count them when but with the baffling intentness of a cat they come back.” drowsing before a stove and peering through His thick lips parted in a dog-toothed the slits of her eves at a rat-hole across grin. Blake glanced at the roll, then thrust the room. He looked less and less at the The Baiting of Rosenthal 625 trickster; he appeared to be concentrating "No," said Rosenthal, "you are a fool to every faculty upon his own play in a des- play. You have not the nerve for a gam- perate effort to recoup; yet his eyes, shifting bler, my frendt, even with Gentiles! But to and slanting under their bushy black eye- play with a Jew who is afraid to lose his brows, did not miss the minutest detail in the money and does not vant to stake much movements of Blake's hands, and the trick- on a game . . . that is all right!” And again ster, conscious of this close scrutiny in some the harshlaugh crashed out. Rosenthal impalpable way peculiar to gamblers, stopped leaned forward across the table until his cheating. bearded face was less than a foot from that Klein, closely watching the man, saw that of the trickster. something was amiss, for Blake was becom “I tell you vat we do!” he rasped out; ing frightened and could feel his assurance "we cannot afford to waste all of this time oozing from every pore. There was some for not'ing. We play one little game for ten subile emanation from the half-tamed Hebrew t'ousand dollars and stop!” that seemed to paralyze in the trickster all of Blake reached in his pocket and drew out the quickness of mind and hand necessary a bandanna handkerchief, with which he to the deception that he practised. It was mopped his humid face. Under the table simply that his weak will was squeezed of its Klein was crushing his foot beneath his own, feeble essence by the dominant vital force of but Blake did not feel it. His brain was the Jew. Rosenthal himself felt in some whirling; he pulled himself together with vague way his growing ascendency, and his difficulty. It seemed as if the Jew had merciless strength began to swell within him. played directly into his hand in his daring Blake had been cheating but rarely, when proposal. Blake was holding the cards; it ever it was necessary to make a gradual gain, was only necessary for him to shuffle, fling but the knowledge that he could win at any them upon the table to cut for deal . .. and time had given him confidence and helped he knew that he would cut high. Then he his game. Now, with the scant nerve wrung would deal, and once the cards were in his from him, he began to falter and to play in a trained hands there could be no question of dazed way, gray in the face, blue about the his winning if-if-if he could summon the lips, the dew standing in drops under the nerve to do his part! long, straight hair falling over his forehead, He drew a deep breath; Klein was still while his mild, dishonest eyes were filled with crushing his foot beneath his own, and all at the pained expression one sees in the eyes of once Blake felt the pain of it and the faintest a sheep in the shambles. Klein watched him tinge of color crept into his flaccid face. with a nauseated loathing. “All right,” he said with a gulp. “Here Game by game the score drifted back to she goes then for ten thousand! You're a its starting-point and presently a sigh went better sport than I took ye for, frien?!" He up from the watchers when, after such a began to shuffle with the beautiful and uncon- juggling of fortune as few of them had ever scious dexterity of the accomplished card- seen before, a game won by the Jew brought player. Rosenthal nodded and dropped his the players back to their original positions. eyes from his opponent's face to the pack ... Rosenthal brought his big fist down upon and Blake felt the prying glance of the Jew the table with a blow that made the floor spraying his hands like a tongue of icy flame. tremble. He threw the cards upon the table and “Mein Gott!” he roared. “Py Jiminy! they cut. Blake cut a king; he was taking A full hour we play and I lose eighteen t'ou- no chances; on this final game he was pre- sand and win it back again; and I have such pared to accept suspicion if only he could excitements as alone are vort' all the money avoid detection. He gathered up the cards, on the table, and my frendt here is nearly threw them together, shuffled rapidly but dead of heart disease, and the color of fresh with infinite care, and had commenced to caviar ar-roundt his mout—and all wit' deal, when something happened. noting done!” No one knew just what it was, not even Blake leaned back in his chair. “I guess Rosenthal, whose eyes were like those of a that's about enough,” he said feebly, and his lynx; nevertheless, in the high tension of the face was that of an old man. “My heart moment the knowledge that something was ain't so good as it might be, and I can't stand amiss flashed around the table like an electric much nervous excitement.” current. Only Blake knew that he had Copyright, 1907, by J. A. Millar. MISS GIULIA MOROSINI, She wears princess gowns adorned with diamond buttons, and extends her love of rich garniture to her horses. The Ladies Dames anse by Gertrude Lynck “ Next to the gentleman's game of hunting, we must put the ladies' game of dressing. It is not the cheapest of games.”—RUSKIN. CORALIE and I have been friends for fails to impress me. Not that Coralie had years. Indeed, our intimacy began ever been the ugly duckling of the fairy story long ago in a certain New England village, far from it; but her painstaking mind and when, as small girls, we occupied adjoining her studious industry had seemed to promise desks at school. That little Jennie B— . for her a future no more brilliant than the no, after all, I won't disclose Coralie's iden- Normal School and a teacher's career. What tity-should have developed into the most passed for Providence intervened, however, famous, the most successful, and, perhaps and now our paths lie far apart. For the crowning distinction, the most expensive profession by which I exist has forced me to dressmaker in New York, is a fact that never deal critically with those very frailties f 627 628 Everybody's Magazine modern life to which it is Coralie's business to known presence, past tables shining with glass cater. Yet, sometimes, I am inclined to think and silver and crowned with roses and or- that, in her shrewd way, my friend is really chids as if for some rite. Gay hats nodded the better observer, the keener critic. like more splendid flowers under the droop- It was shortly after her latest visit to the ing palms, jewels flashed in the radiance of a shops of London, Paris, Berlin, and Vienna hundred shaded lights, and the deep pulse of that I accepted Coralie's invitation to dine violins, played in a waltz, throbbed through with her at Sherry's on a Sunday evening. the murmur of many voices. We glided along Fifth Avenue in a smart The impression was of a very abandon of little electric brougham — Coralie's latest luxury. “Extravagance, extravagance!” I acquisition, fresh proof of her success—past exclaimed almost involuntarily, as we sat dimly lighted houses, palaces in size and sug- looking about. “Think, if you dare, how gestion. Sharper nebulæ of light ſell beneath much money there is in this room in mere the raised shades of great windows in the clothes! Where do you suppose it all comes pretentious hotels that seemed to punctuate from? It's overwhelming!" the street like exclamation points. Within “Extravagance?” Coralie picked up the were glimpses of gay colors, white shirt fronts, word defensively. “Yes, but it's New York, confusion and feasting. Everywhere there remember. Here's where the wealth of the was a crowd; for nation centers; it was the dinner here's where the hour on New greatest fortunes York's favorite are; why not then night for dining the most lavish ex- abroad. penditure? It's a We waited our matter of re- turn in the mov- lations." ing line of motors She paused to and carriages that look at a group of stretched along persons about to the avenue and seat themselves at into Forty-fourth the square table Street, like the next to our own. curve of some There were six- splendid serpent three men and with eyes of fire. three women. The We left our former classified brougham at the themselves, in entrance of the res- their well-groomed taurant. The soft sleekness, their path of carpet pride of posses- brought us up the sion, and their air steps and within of imperturbabili- the doors, and we ty, as types of the stood for a mo- New Yorker of ment, our wraps club and Wall taken from us as Street manufac- if by magic, to sur- ture. The women, vey the kaleido- all of them gowned scopic groups of with studied and men and women luxurious elabora- in the great en- tion, had given my trance hall. We companion smiles threaded our way of recognition. Photograph by J. A. Millar. under the guid- Dropping her ance of a head Made for Miss Morosini. It is lavishly embellished by sequins jeweled lorgnette, waiter to whom Coralie turned Coralie's is a well- again to me. “I A $5,000 COSTUME put on by hand and represents several months' labor. “ The Ladies' Game” 629 can't tell you where the money all comes from,” she said, “but how much is spent on the clothes we see here—that is my subject. I know about clothes. Take these people next us, to begin with. They are all cus- tomers of mine in a way. That woman with the gray hair, who is helping her husband order dinner, has been coming to me for years.” I raised my eyes to a vision in Nile green crêpe de chine. Panels of white chiffon, charm- ingly embroidered with jet and opalescent beads, followed the princess lines of the gown from throat to train. The elbow sleeves were finished with ruf- fles of rare Italian lace, and garnitures of pearls and opals were cunningly introduced. The gown suited its owner to perfection-a woman neither young nor old-in whom the grace of youth and the dignity of middle age had met. “That costume came from my house." Coralie was saying. “I am rather pleased with it” -a note of professional satis- faction colored her tone—"and it cost Mrs. C— exactly $700. I consider her a very well- dressed woman, by the way, and not extravagant—as extravagance goes. She always gets the worth of her money; and if one has the money and chooses to spend it, what matters! I don't believe her bills for clothes come to more than $18,000 or $20,000 a year." “Twenty thousand dollars a year! Seven hundred dollars for a frock!” "Don't be alarmed,” Coralie's hand waved back the interruption; "that is noth- ing unusual! The perfectly plain, perfectly simple, Doucet gown that Mrs. C— 's sister —the young girl nearest us—is wearing, didn't cost a penny less than $700, over here; and I'm inclined to think that the other woman she's worth $10,000,000 in her own right, I'm told-paid rather more for her gown of point Venise ; it came from Maurice Meyer's. And there are a dozen gowns of the same sort in this room. There's a woman over there— Mrs. M— , whose wardrobe, it is said, con- MRS. ALFRED GWYNNE VANDERBILT And some friends at the Hollywood Horse Show. Mrs. Vanderbilt dresses siinply, and her costume, including hat and parasol, probably did not cost over $150. The gowns worn by her companions cost several times that amount. tains over three hundred gowns! She declared in a newspaper interview that she spent $200,000 a year for her clothes! “That seems excessive, even to me,” Co- ralie ran on, “but I know the possibilities. For instance, I was in the house of the three Callat sisters in Paris only last year, and I saw, with my own eyes, a New York wcinan order twenty-five gowns for the season. I know the prices charged there, and those gowns couldn't have cost less than $300 apiece. That represents the average for such women as are here to-night much more nearly than Mrs. M— 's $200,000; yes, and the average for gatherings such as this in other great capitals, too. For there is no truth in the common notion that American women dress more extravagantly than those of any other nation. It may be that more American women dress well, but extravagance is an interna- tional characteristic, not merely national. 630 Everybody's Magazine trips to Paris costumers. Oh, it's a mistake, believe me, to suppose that the wives of American millionaires are the sole support of the rue de la Paix." Coralie paused, smiling at her own ear- nestness in defense of her countrywomen. “But I must give you more facts," she be- gan again, “since $700 seemed to you so astounding a sum for one frock. What will you think when I tell you that a woman who wishes the name of being well dressed, as fashion knows the term, must have at least five or six of these imported costumes; also an equal number of domestic afternoon and evening dresses and of tailor-made gowns. There must be an appropriate hat for every out-of-door gown; and these cost anywhere from $50 to $100 or $200 apiece. In sum- mer, a fashionable woman must have forty or fifty lingerie gowns, ranging from the cobweb of lace to the simple mull, costing not more MRS. HARRY BROOKS SARGEANT, At the Casino at Deal Beach, in an embroidered gown which, with the hat, could not have cost less than $500. And I believe that wealthy Russian women, at least, spend rather more on clothes than do Americans. Their furs alone cost fortunes. Once on the train going from St. Petersburg to Paris I noticed a party of Russian women all wearing coats of sable, and not one of those coats, I am sure, could have cost less than $40,000. In Berlin, the same winter, the manager of a great dressmaking house told me that he had been at infinite pains, really scouring Europe, to get an extra sable skin to match some others used in the trim- ming of a gown ordered by a South American. For that skin alone he had to charge his customer $3,000! That's not an exceptional illustration of extravagance among South Americans, either. From Rio Janeiro and Buenos Ayres the women make their annual MRS. HERMAN P. TAPPÉ AND MRS. E. V. HARTFORD, A hand-embroidered linen gown such as the one Mrs. Tappe wears will cost $300, while her hat probably cost between $50 and $75. Mrs. Hartford appears in a lingerie princess gown showing elaborate hand. work, which cost in the neighborhood of $300, “The Ladies' Game” 631 than $150. She must have morning gowns maker-that we must turn for comparisons. —she will pay $125 for a simple muslin with We soon find that in almost every instance perhaps two yards of inexpensive lace on it. prices are higher here in America than there, Half a dozen evening coats for winter, and an even when liberal allowances for the payment equal number of lace or silk for summer, are of customs duties are made. For instance, a matter of course. When the Irish lace the French model gown sells for from one- AN ECCENTRIC COSTUME Made from a French model. It cost $300, while the plumes on the hat are valued at $50 each. A HAT WORTH $100, Which is only one of many that a fashionable woman must have. The coat, of hand-wrought imported lace, cost $3.). crochet coat first became popular, one shop third to two-thirds more in New York than here sold 450 in a month, no one of them in Paris. Indeed, the Parisian dressmaker priced less than $200. And the accessories demands a higher price from an American are in proportionate extravagance; for lin- professional buyer than from an ordinary gerie, handkerchiefs, scarves, and fans $5,000 French customer. There is reason in this: or $6,000 a year is a conservative estimate the dressmaker knows perfectly well that the We are living in an age of luxury, indeed; model will be copied hundreds of times in but what would you have? It is good for America—that Eldorado of careless luxury us dressmakers, at any rate; and one must by the buyer, who will reap tremendous live!” harvests of profit with no very great outlay.* II For the model can be repeated in domestic * The profit on simple dresses is greater than that on elaborate REGARDING the prices of clothes, it is of ones, the profit on an ordinary shirtwaist suit being almost 200 per cent. On coats and evening gowns the profit is reckoned course to Paris—the habitat of the dress from 75 to 150 per cent. of the cost and labor. AN EVENING COAT OF EMBROIDERED SATIN. The ermine lining alone cost $1,000. The embroidery is exqui. site hand work and added $200 to the cost of the garment. THE NECESSARY TAILOR GOWN. The plainest tailor gown costs $150 or more. The cost is counted not so much in materials as in perfection of fit and beauty of lines. materials; and it may even be sold again, establishments. But, nowadays, our New when the exclusive dressmaker is through York dressmakers have developed wonder- with it, to the wholesale dealer, who will use fully; they display real originality; indeed, it as a model for his ready-made stock. one of the real leaders of fashionable New Profiting by experience, and knowing the York recently declared that she is now buy- recklessness of rich Americans in the pursuit ing her clothes in America because it is no of what they want, most of the Parisian cou- longer necessary to get them abroad. turières, milliners, and makers of lingerie Coralie admits candidly that, like most have arranged a special scale of prices, which other trades, dressmaking is a game-"a affects not only the professional buyer, but game," she says, "played by cautious and the casual shopper as well. For example, skilful hands. If our rival gets a good idea, a gown that a Frenchman may secure for a new color scheme, we must get a better one; $150, $175, or $200 may bring $300 from an we must know the tricks of our opponents; American. we must spend money without stint to keep Perhaps fewer New York women buy their ourselves au fait in the world of dress. clothes in Paris now than in the past. It New York is Mecca to thousands of wom- had long been the fashion to bring home a en who come from all over the United season's dresses with the mark of Parisian States to buy or to obtain ideas for home makers on them; it still is certainly possible consumption in the dressmaking establish- to get great "value" for the money spent in ments from coast to coast. Women are some of the smaller and less well-known employed at handsome salaries by the big 632 634 Everybody's Magazine “You mean," I questioned, “that when whose energies and attention are turned to we buy a $50 gown in a Sixth Avenue depart- the subject of dress are seldom of the type ment store, we are really buying a French that stops to think of reasons, economical or gown so far as essentials are concerned?” altruistic. So if, in their kindly and careless “Certainly,” said Coralie, “for there are sowing, some of the seed fall on good ground, only a few dressmakers in this country who are why, let us be simply grateful and not ask a daring enough to originate. Manufacturers question that philanthropists and cynics alike go abroad for models. Yet, on the other hand, have never been able to answer. the French often borrow from American cus- tomers their original ideas. Years ago, when pretty Juliette Paquin appeared one famous III day at Armenonville in a simple white linen suit with Eton jacket, distinct among the “CORALIE,” said I, when we found our- elaborate gowns that represented millions of selves in the trim little brougham again, dollars, she said frankly to her admirers that rolling almost noiselessly downtown, “ you she had taken the idea from an American have given me a strange jumble of facts and girl. It is not only our American dollars, fancies. Tell me, isn't there anyone whose but the clever caprices of American customers dress is not worth computation in figures, that have helped in making these establish- whose jewels are not described in newspapers, ments.” who can walk unseen and talk unheard, and who does not insist on dining in public every A New York woman, whose extravagance night of her life?" in dress is equaled by her candor, once ex- Coralie laughed and patted my hand. “Of plained-she did not seem to think an course there is, my dear, and there are many “excuse” necessary—that she regarded any more than you think! There are women who criticism of her expenditure as uncalled for. rarely see the inside of Sherry's, and of whose “I dress as well as my taste and my in- existence the paragrapher is quite ignorant, come allow, for two reasons,” she is reported yet who are figures of power, influence, and as saying. “The first is a woman's reason: authority in the world of society. Only the I like to look well. And the other is this: other day, in speaking of this very subject, a It is the best way I know of to do good with woman of wealth, position, cleverness, and the money that fortune has so kindly bestowed fashion, who is noted for the beauty of her on me!” own gowns, is said to have declared that There is, of course, a grain of truth in this among her acquaintances she knew of many last statement. The circulation of great who dressed admirably on $5,000 a year. sums of money certainly conveys a benefit at “But women of this sort,” Coralie went large. It makes employment possible and on, “cannot be called typical of modern insures the acquirement of the necessities of American civilization. Although they stand life by many. But in the case of a profession for the best side of it, if you will, and certainly so dependent as is that of the dressmaker the most conservative, they do not represent on long credits and large surpluses of capi- the great restless entity that we call New tal, it is easy enough to see that the profits York. My dear, it isn't New York alone; go to the sharp brains, the calculating heads it's Chicago, it's Pittsburgh, it's a score of of the business. Certainly the little tailor individual civilizations that merge in this on the East Side of New York who received great metropolis of ours.” six dollars for the entire making of a suit “One thing more, Coralie," I interrupted, that the Fifth Avenue tailor who employed “before you develop some startling conclu- him sold to the wife of one of our Presidents sion on these broad lines; does this extrava- for $200, has small reason to be satisfied with gance in dress, to which it would seem that his share of the profit! Nor can the little American women are all too prone, tend in apprentices in a fashionable establishment, any way to the demoralization of the Amer- who get from $3 to $5 for a week of toil, feel ican man?" any particular enthusiasm for this especial Coralie laughed. “How can it help doing manner of distribution.* Indeed, the women so?” she cried. “It is from the American man * The scale of wages is practically the same in the majority and figure-models, from $15 to $25; and saleswomen, from $15 of the large American establishments, and the staff may number to $50. Ordinary d from $3 to $5 a week; helpers, from $6 to $10; sleeve-hands $10,000. from three hundred to five hundred persons. Apprentices earn ners get from $1,500 to $2,000 a year, and expert and exclusive designers are paid from $5,000 to The Swamp Dogwood 635 that the necessary money comes; it is, per- haps, largely to please him that it is spent in this way. And, if he is the source and the beneficiary, why shouldn't he, by all that is just, be sometimes the sufferer? Undoubt- edly, certain bankruptcies, separations, di- vorces, and even suicides may be laid at the door of many a woman whose passion for fine clothes has led her to desperate expedi- ents. I remember hearing of one million- aire in the West who really was reduced to poverty by his wife's love of dress. But I do not believe that instances in which this ex- travagance has been the direct cause of dis- aster are very common. There are all too many other and larger ways,” she added knowingly, “in which a man may ruin himself without the aid of our poor sex. Awoman isn't necessarily extravagant merely because she happens to spend great sums of money. She is extravagant, as far as real harm is concerned, only when she spends beyond her income. I've seen wives and daughters of poor professional men who in their limited way were far more of a drain on the family resources and a far more serious menace to the family integrity than many rich women. It's all a question of degree, and if we can only hold to some just sense of proportion-in this ostentatious, fast-moving age I grant you that's not an easy thing to do—I don't be- lieve that we shall ever find ourselves beyond the reach of remedy." From the top of the steep steps at the door of my little house, I stood a moment looking into the night. Already, with the ever less- ening whir of Coralie's brougham, the im- pressions of the evening were taking their proper places in the background of my mem- ory. The gorgeous room, the scent of flow- ers, the esthetic grace that refines even our hunger, the rhythm of violins against mur- muring voices, the rosy lights that fell in splen- dors of form, color, and radiance—the whole riot of luxury, at once barbaric in its splen- dor and ultra-modern in its manifestation, seemed gradually to crystallize into an entity. “Ah,” I thought, “it is a wonderful thing, this luxury! It means the possession of ease, comfort, and beauty. Does that imply the ab- sence of anxiety, care, and ugliness, I wonder? I'm afraid not; for, in its excess, luxury spoils not only itself but its good qualities, and de- mands the payment of an inevitable penalty. It is right that those who have much should pay much; but how about those who work that others may possess? Is there a pay- ment for them to make, too, in this strange system of life's economy?” And, suddenly, I was reminded of the poor little child who, working in a shop every day for a wretched wage, turned drearily from the artificial violets over which she was toil- ing. “I hate flowers,” she said, “and I wish God had never made them, so that I needn't have to do this!” The Swamp Dogwood By JAMES E. RICHARDSON THIS is mine hour and my glory. See 1 These red, red leaves of mine that bar thy way! Thou knowest me; for 'twas not yesterday I found thine arms and paid thee for the glee Wherewith my stems were torn. In amity I warn thee, then, from far; this wild display Of these my leaves' incarnadined array Is wrought thus for a sign ’twixt thee and me: That in thy circuits thou shalt know me well; And when at summer's end there is the dull Bassoon-call of strange insects in the lull, And every marsh is brimming with the stale Of long sun-harrowed months implacable, Beware of me, lest madness end thy tale. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen? By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of “Soldiers of the Common Good" CHAPTER VIII money. Now to have ready money instead of credits to handle is a great thing in the Wall THE OFFICE BOY IN HIGH FINANCE Street game. One that has control of the in- vesting of much ready money can do well and In this world,” says the old philosophy, lawfully although the money be not his. The I "man may not get something for noth- gentlemen back of the American Şurety Com- ing, but renders a return for all he may pany thought it was a great deal better to in- acquire.” vest the premium money than to have it in a But where? Not in the fertile regions of bank subject to somebody else's investing. high finance, certainly. There to get valu- But the law rigidly restricts the investing of able properties and to pay nothing for them is insurance funds by insurance companies. the essence of the game. Hence the utility of a trust company that is True, you cannot always play that game really a branch of the insurance company but without disagreeable half-hours, but sitting operates under another name—an advantage tight and abiding in your faith in the Ameri- thoroughly appreciated by the big life-insur- can tolerance, you shall still win at the end. ance companies in the palmy days before 1905. As you may observe in this story, told here to The capital stock of the State Trust Com- illustrate other phases of the ability that dis- pany was $1,000,000, subscribed at 150, so it tinguishes the successful man in these pleas- began business with a surplus of $500,000 in ant regions. addition to its capital. In New York we have banks that are called In order to secure permanently the control banks and banks that are called trust com- of the trust company by the insurance com- panies, the difference lying in a more lib- pany, and to perfect the alias under which the eral attitude of the law toward the banks insurance company was also to do business as that are called trust companies. Many trust a bank, more than one-quarter of the trust companies have been organized in the last company's stock was held in the treasury of twenty years, and some of them have had the surety company, and with more than historic careers. One, called the State Trust another quarter there was created that beau- Company, was founded in 1890 by Mr. Willis tiful and efficient device, a Voting Trust. S. Paine, as a kind of collateral enterprise of That is, the subscribers to this part of the the American Surety Company, of which Mr. stock surrendered their voting rights to trus- Paine was a director. The business of the tees that were bound to vote as the surety American Surety Company being chiefly to company might direct. Mr. Paine was presi- bond employees and to indemnify employers, dent of the State Trust Company and a ma- the premiums from its policies constantly jority of the trustees were connected also with produced for it a considerable stream of ready the American Surety Company. 636 Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 637 For some years the State Trust Company if you refuse to sell, you understand, we shall sailed an even and uneventful course, being have to remove you from the board of the reputed a good conservative institution and surety company. performing agreeably its functions as the Mr. Kling-You go to the devil. banking alias of an insurance company. In Whereupon, he said, he hung up the re- 1898 it had a surplus and undivided profits of ceiver. $1,250,000, and deposits of $10,000,000, hav- Immediately afterward he was dropped ing paid six per cent. dividends and kept on from the directorate. the windward side of the law. But in that year the Whitney-Ryan syndicate, under the “PROMOTERS' PARADISE” inspiration of Mr. R. A. C. Smith (a gifted gentleman with a career in connection with Mr. Kling clung (to speak in the manner of the business side of the Spanish-American a conjugation) to his stock, and observed the war) secured possession of the American sailing of the reorganized company. He may Surety Company and therewith, of course, have had other motives than pure philan- control of the State Trust Company. thropy; I do not know. It may be admitted It is well to control a trust company that is that in these days pure philanthropy seldom making good dividends, but better to own it, journeys in New York below Fourteenth particularly if you have many schemes and Street. And he may not have been the only design to use the trust company as a financial person that for unpublished reasons regarded adjunct of your scheming. The syndicate with suspicion the new owners. Anyway, had the one-quarter block of stock. This it neither Mr. Ryan nor Wall Street was yet used as a nucleus. It then went to the other through with Mr. Kling, whose name was stockholders and persuaded or coerced them destined in the next few years to become rea- into parting with one-half of their holdings sonably well known to both. at 200, which was about the current price, Meantime, the syndicate took possession of promising that after the programmed reor the ship and put in charge thereof officers de- ganization the price would be raised to 400, pendable for syndicate purposes-Mr. Walter so that the half each stockholder retained S. Johnston as president, and a serviceable would then be worth as much as his entire secretary. On the new board of directors ap- holdings had been worth before. Next it peared the names of some gentlemen already effected on the Real Estate Exchange some well known to us-Elihu Root (now Secretary ostensible sales of the stock (made by one of State), Thomas F. Ryan, H. H. Vreeland syndicate member to another) at 400, which (president of the Metropolitan Traction established a market rate at that figure. Then Company), William C. Whitney, P. A. B. it borrowed money on the stock as collateral, Widener, and R. A. C. Smith. Of these, Mr. at or near this artificial price, and with the Root, Mr. Vreeland, Mr. Ryan, and Mr. money thus obtained it paid for the stock it Smith were also directors in the American had secured from the other stockholders—a Surety Company. small but pleasing illustration of the game The office of the State Trust Company was before referred to, and tending to show that no No. 100 Broadway. So was the office of the man need go without any property if he will American Surety Company. So also was the take the right way to get it. office of Mr. Thomas F. Ryan. So also, pleasantly enough, were the offices of many ENTER ABRAM KLING stock companies, real, imaginary, plausible, potential, projected, prospective, and decoy, Among the original stockholders of the that the syndicate found useful to it in its State Trust Company and directors of the business. The more companies, the easier American Surety Company was one Abram becomes the application of the Formula for Kling. He had 190 shares in the trust com- Wealth and the issuing of securities for other pany and 400 in the surety company. He people to pay. Some of these companies were said that one day Mr. Ryan called him on the schemes of an exceedingly light and airy na- telephone and cordially invited him to sell ture, having, in fact, no other substance than one-half of his holdings in the trust company. some sheets of paper. Captain Gulliver He declined. Subsequently he gave the fol- would have found much subject for remark lowing version of the rest of the conversation among them, for they strongly recalled the Mr. Ryan-Well, in that case, Mr. Kling, Island of Laputa. They gave to No. 100 638 Everybody's Magazine Broadway a certain distinction not, perhaps, the governor, but what was still worse, the wholly desirable for serious enterprises whose next day he made it public. The governor object is ordinary business and dividends. was much stirred by the revelations it con- The place was known as the “Promoters' tained. He declared at once that he must Paradise.” know the facts and all of them, and to that end he appointed as a special commissioner FIVE HOURS OF HOUSE-CLEANING to investigate the company, former Adjutant- General Avery D. Andrews, of New York Under its new management the State Trust City. General Andrews had been a member Company seemed to fare excellently well. Its of the Police Board under the Strong adminis- deposits increased; so did its loans. It gath- tration, and in the incessant squabbles of that ered much money of other people for the dis- board had taken some part. In more recent position of the syndicate. It was known as times he became one of the directing spirits of the financial agent for many of the syndicate's the Asphalt Trust, rather unpleasantly promi- multifarious enterprises. It was a bank of nent in the Venezuelan troubles. His instruc- deposit for the syndicate's Metropolitan tions in the State Trust matter were to go to the Traction Company. To the outside world bottom of it “no matter whom it might affect." it looked like a portly and well-conducted in Now the State Trust matter properly be- stitution; inside its doors, as we know now, longed to the official care of Mr. F. P. Kil- business went swimmingly and to the satisfac- burn, who was then superintendent of the tion of the gentlemen whose ability, energy, State Banking Department. For some rea- and foresight had created much of the prop- son not officially disclosed, the governor erty out of nothing. In November, 1899, the totally ignored Mr. Kilburn and entrusted state bank examiner looked upon the com- all his house-cleaning to General Andrews. pany's affairs and said that they were good, Whereupon Mr. Kilburn started upon an in- and the company's statement, January 1, vestigation of his own. There were thus two 1900, showed that its deposits had increased inquiries proceeding at the same time, while nearly $5,000,000, for on that date it had the New York newspapers, taking the scent, $14,829,116.55 of other people's money to conducted a third deal with and total resources of $17,122,- General Andrews finished first. His ap- 411.57. Its profits in the preceding year had pointment was telegraphed to him on the 12th, been $830,920.50, and it had paid six per and he began work on the 13th. His investi- cent. dividends. All was well, therefore, at gation lasted somewhat less than five hours. No. 100 Broadway. He then ceased from his labors and returned Suddenly, in the midst of this fair day and two documents. One was a report on what cloudless sky, a bolt fell. On January 11, he had found, and the other was a personal 1900, Mr. Kling presented to the Governor of letter asking to be relieved from further re- New York a long communication in which he search in the matter. made specific and very grave charges against the management of the State Trust Company, PUBLIC REPORTS SUPPRESSED and petitioned for the appointment of a commissioner to investigate the company's This seemed to press and public a startling affairs. He declared that the directors, in turn in the affair, and great curiosity was violation of the express mandates of the law, aroused as to its occasion. People generally had repeatedly lent to themselves the com felt that here was something exceedingly pany's assets; that they had lent money to strange and even mysterious, and they desired themselves under other persons' names upon to know more about it. The public curiosity questionable or worthless security and upon was not gratified-at that time. General none at all; that they had lent to individual Andrews was relieved according to his re- borrowers sums in excess of the legal limits, quest; no one was appointed in his place; his and that their general course had been lawless report was locked up in Albany; and Superin- and such as to imperil the safety of the in- tendent Kilburn's report coming in shortly stitution and the stability of business. These afterward, that, too, was consigned to oblivion. charges, if true, were enough to send the In spite of all demands, the government re- whole board of directors to the penitentiary fused to make either public, to give any idea for long terms. of the contents of either, or to take any action Mr. Kling not only delivered his petition to on either. The only information disclosed Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 639 was that both reports. had found the com- urgent demands that the state administration pany solvent. should make public the Andrews and Kilburn Meantime, the third investigation, that of reports, orat least one of them. This the state the newspapers, directed toward burrowing administration still refused to do, although into the specific allegations of Mr. Kling, urged on every ground of duty and obligation, seemed to establish in the State Trust Com- and although in the beginning there had been a pany a condition rotten almost beyond prece- promise that the public should know every- dent and lawless enough to demand stern thing of interest concerning the company, and retribution. Mr. Kling had affirmed many General Andrews had been ordered to go to astounding things about the management, the bottom of the inquiry "no matter whom it giving picturesque details and illustrations, might affect.” Mr. Kilburn and General and of these at least the following seemed to be Andrews as steadily refused to give an inkling undeniably true: of the nature of their discoveries. A very strange but most potent influence seemed to A REVELATION OF ROTTENNESS have mastered all the authorities. In New York City the district attorney and in 1. The company had made a loan of Albany the attorney-general declined to act. $2,000,000 to one Daniel H. Shea, and this A committee of the State Assembly was in- loan appeared to be either unsecured or sup- duced to demand a copy of the Kilburn re- ported by very questionable collateral. On port, but by the time it was produced the inquiry, Daniel H. Shea was found to be an committee had voted 6 to 5 to return it with office boy in the employment of Mr. Thomas the seals unbroken. A demand for a legisla- F. Ryan and in receipt of a salary of $15 a tive committee of investigation was similarly week. ineffectual. And against this blank wall of- 2. This loan was $900,000 in excess of the ficial inquiry seemed to have come to an end. limit fixed by the law, and was further illegal because it was really made (in violation of the NO PENALTY FOR BIG CRIMES express prohibition of the law) to directors of the company. That it was so made was ex Yet for some days the developments gave plicitly acknowledged by three of the direc- to the story daily a worse aspect. That loan tors, who, upon the publication of these facts to Louis F. Payn, for instance, seemed a and upon some signs of rising popular wrath, thing that absolutely demanded more light returned to the company the shares they had upon it. Men recalled that the State Trust received of the loan. Company was owned by the owners of the 3. There was a loan of $435,470.48 on in- Metropolitan Traction Company, and that sufficient and doubtful collateral to Louis F. certain advantages secured by the Metro- Payn, who was the state superintendent of politan Traction Company at Albany the insurance. The State Trust Company was previous winter made it inappropriate for owned by the Whitney-Ryan syndicate; so that company to deal much or openly with also was the American Surety Company, politicians. In those days the Third Av- which, as an insurance concern, was directly enue Railroad was still an independent con- under the official supervision of Mr. Payn and cern and was engaged in fighting the Metro- capable of receiving benefits at his hands, a politan. Both companies secured what they fact that made this loan, which was improper were pleased to call rights in Amsterdam in other ways, look and smell exceedingly ill. Avenue and a furious battle began between 4. There was a loan of $412,000 to William them for the possession of that part of the F. Sheehan, also on very doubtful security. People's highways. Mr. Payn was a political Mr. Sheehan was, and still is, a person of great leader of much power in the state; that is, he influence in the Democratic Party of the State was supposed to "swing" several votes in the of New York. He was also of counsel legislature, where the deciding contest was (though not often appearing in court) for the fought. For reasons never divulged, the Metropolitan Traction Company and for Mr. Third Avenue Company counted securely Thomas F. Ryan. upon the support of Mr. Payn, and with the There were reasons to believe that this votes that he “swung" it expected to have a was far from the extent of the questionable majority narrow but sufficient. But when transactions. the final vote came, to the amazement of the Some of the papers now renewed their spectators the votes that Mr. Payn was said 640 Everybody's Magazine to "swing" appeared in the Metropolitan fidential adviser of Mr. Whitney and Mr. Traction coiumn, and the Third Avenue Ryan. Company was defeated. John W. Griggs, then Attorney-General of Soon afterward, a trust company owned the United States. by the Metropolitan Traction Company lent Thomas F. Ryan. to Mr. Payn a very large sum of money on William C. Whitney. very inadequate security. To the average P. A. B. Widener. man this fact would seem to constitute a R. A. C. Smith. situation that no public officer sworn to en Anthony N. Brady. force the law could ignore. Particularly when the money thus lent was not the money DIRECTORS' LOANS TO THEMSELVES of the Traction Company, but of depositors that had innocently confided it to a trust com It appeared that of the $14,829,116.55 of pany in ignorance of the fact that this trust other people's money confidingly deposited company was an alias for a surety company, with this trust company, $5,133,270.48 had and the surety company was an alias for the been swept into improper or utterly illegal traction company, and the traction company loans for the benefit of the gentlemen whose was an alias for something else. And again, ability, energy, and foresight had created particularly when such loans, made in utter something from nothing. defiance of the law, threatened the whole Among these loans were the following: structure of business confidence. Daniel H. Shea...........$2,000,000.00 Yet at Albany would no man move. Moore & Schley........... 1,000,000.00 In the criminal courts of New York City Louis F. Payn............. 435,470.48 that month there were tried and sent to pris- Anthony N. Brady........ 285,000.00 William F. Sheehan....... on hundreds of men whose offenses against 435,000.00 Metropolitan Traction Co.. the law and society were trivial compared 500,000.00 with these. Therefore, it appeared, the ma It appeared that the loan to the office boy chinery of justice was in regular working Shea had been negotiated by Elihu Root, di- order. rector of the company, member of the execu- Yet in New York against these offenders tive committee, and its personal and confi- would no man move. dential adviser, and that it had been kept off the directors' minute books. "Beyond all question," said the report, CHAPTER IX “this loan was illegal, because excessive and because, in part, it was made directly to di- ADDITIONAL LIGHT ON THE JUDICIOUS MIX- rectors of the company." TURE OF POLITICS AND BUSINESS THAT IS Illegal! Well, is it possible to conceive of ESSENTIAL TO THE BEST PLAYING OF THE anything more illegal? For how reads the law GAME upon this subject? “No loan shall be made by any such cor- Bad as all this was, worse remained be- poration (trust company] directly or indi- hind. On the 12th of March the New York rectly to any director or officer thereof."- World managed to secure, in some surrepti- General Banking Act, section 156. Passed tious way, a copy of the Kilburn report (so in 1892. sedulously suppressed at Albany), and pub- And further: lished it, practically in full. The whole coun- “Every director of a moneyed corporation try gasped at the official confirmation it con- who wilfully does any act as such director tained of the worst charges made by Kling or which is expressly forbidden by law, or wil- hinted by the newspapers. There seemed no fully omits to perform any duty imposed upon longer a chance to doubt that the official in him as such director by law, is guilty of a mis- vestigation had been muzzled because of “the demeanor, if no other punishment is pre- prominence of the persons involved,” who scribed therefor by law.”—Penal Code, sec- now stood forth in a white light, painfully tion 603. conspicuous. They were: It appeared further from the report that the Elihu Root, then Secretary of War, now collaterals securing the Sheehan loan were Secretary of State, a director in the State "not currently quoted," and that Mr. Kilburn Trust Company, long the personal and con- could not estimate their value, which was, of Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 641 LOA course, a polite way of saying that they were made by the Metropolitan Traction Company rubbish. It appeared further that this loan to the order of Louis F. Payn and marked was in reality made in the interest of—what, “construction account.” But Mr. Payn, who for a guess? Why, our old friend the United is merely a professional politician, never had Gas Improvement Company of Philadelphia, anything to do with any “construction” work the corporation that afterward became so for the Metropolitan and never could have popular that the people gathered to hang some had. Moreover, it is perfectly well known of its advocates. The United Gas Improve- that the construction account” is among ment Company got that loan and was to repay railroad companies a common and favorite it, presumably out of the money gathered in disguise for rebates, graft, boodle, and other such questionable ways in Philadelphia. But illegal payments. No one could doubt there- the United Gas Improvement Company was fore that here was something more than sus- the syndicate, and the syndicate (and Mr. picious. Root) composed the directorate of the State Nor is even this all. The check to Payn Trust Company. So that when we have was an advance or an accommodation, and in traveled the circle of ability, energy, and fore the law of the state (the poor old forgotten sight we have nothing but the directors (in and neglected law!) corporations are for- violation of the law) lending their depositors' bidden to make such advances or accommo- money to themselves. dations. So that here was lawbreaking. It appeared further that the loan of $285,- ooo to Anthony N. Brady was without secur- LOANS TO THE OFFICE-BOY TYPE ity of any kind, and that Mr. Brady, who was and is the autocrat of that popular and favor Again, the State Trust Company held ite institution, the Brooklyn Rapid Transit, $500,000 worth of the stock of the Metropoli- was the close associate of the syndicate in tan Traction Company, and, by the law of the many of its operations. state, trust companies are forbidden to hold And it appeared further that the loan of in excess of ten per cent. of their capital the $500,000 to the Metropolitan Traction Com stock of other corporations. The capital pany was without security of any kind, and stock of the State Trust Company was that the Metropolitan Traction Company was $1,000,000; ten per cent. out of that would the syndicate. have been $100,000. So that here was law- All this was only the beginning of the story. breaking. Examination of the collateral reported as se And again, the loan to office-boy Shea was curing some of the loans showed remarkable in excess of the legal limits. So that here was things. Thus, in the case of the loan of $435,- lawbreaking. 470.48 to Louis F. Payn (who was perfectly And again, the last statement of the com- well known to be of small means), the col pany declared that the loans on personal lateral had at the most a nominal value of only notes were only $10,000, whereas the loan to $350,000, so that $85,000 of the loan was not Anthony Brady and a loan to Miner C. Keith even nominally secured. Most of the col- were on personal notes. So that here was lateral that was deposited consisted of the lawbreaking. so-called securities of corporations like the But, indeed, there seemed to be no end to New York & North Shore Railroad, which the lawlessness that had rioted at No. 100 astonishing as it may seem, were the doubtful Broadway. Nobody believed that the so- and obscure properties of the syndicate itself. called “Moore & Schley loan” had been made for Moore & Schley, and examination of the other "loan cards” revealed the names THE POOR NEGLECTED LAW! of many friends of the syndicate (some of Hence, it was to be assumed that none of them penniless) that under various devices the securities deposited had ever been owned appeared to have been favored with large by Mr. Payn, and that the whole transaction amounts on syndicate or other airy collat- was merely a blind to cover something else, erals. All of these transactions had exactly some other operation, very likely with other the look of the Shea loan; that is to say, so people's money. Nor is even this all. Besides far as one could judge, the obscure borrow- these alleged securities, which were to the loan ers that apparently had been entrusted with exactly what a Raines Law sandwich is to a great wealth were mere dummies or lay fig- Sunday drink, there was a check for $100,000 ures to cover further illegal advances to the 642 Everybody's Magazine directors of the company. We need not here go into these matters, but I offer another list of loans and the securities therefor that will to the discerning tell its own story: Borrower Amount Collateral John W. Griggs $14,000 Chicago Union Traction John W. Griggs 8,000 Electric Storage Street when it was found that money had actually been risked upon such stuff. Thus, one of the companies had no property, no rights, no business, and no existence except upon paper, and others were recognized as exceedingly dubious enterprises. A list of securities on which loans had been made by the State Trust was submitted to the loaning officers of four reputable trust companies of New York. Each declared instantly that his company would not under any circumstances advance a dollar upon such collateral. (Mr. Griggs was then Attorney-General of the United States. Union Traction is the final company by which Mr. Yerkes looted the street-railroad serv- ice of Chicago. Electric Storage was one of the syndicate's stocks.) N. D. Daboll $35,000 1,000 American Tobacco (Mr. Daboll was secretary of a syndicate com- pany. American Tobacco is owned by Thomas F. Ryan.) Miner C. Keith $70,000 Unsecured notes (This loan has never been explained. Mr. Keith was not generally known in Wall Street.) Sharp & Bryan $100,000 ( Securities of various 3 syndicate decoy com- panies ( Bonds of the American ? Mail Steam ship Company Henry P. Booth $60,000 (The American Mail Steamship Company was a syndicate concern and Mr. Booth was one of its di- rectors.) Alden M. Young $76,000 Various securities (Mr. Young was employed in one of the syndicate offices at No. 100 Broadway.) W. A. Marburg $81,400 Chicago Union Traction WAR OVER ELECTRIC VEHICLE One of the syndicate companies, Electric Vehicle, seems at the time to have had too lit- tle attention, for it played a momentous but silent part in the drama and had a history both interesting and illuminative. Several years before the State Trust Com- pany moved into the center of the stage, Mr. Isaac L, Rice, of New York City, became the owner of many valuable patents on storage batteries for electricity. To use them, he formed and was president of the Storage Bat- tery Company, which had close business rela- tions with the original Electric Vehicle Com- pany. Between them a contract was made, stipulating that the Electric Vehicle Company should have the right to use the patents owned by Mr. Rice, and that the Storage Battery Company should furnish mechanical equip- ments to the Electric Vehicle Company at a discount from the market prices. Among the ventures of the syndicate, which had now ramified in a hundred directions, it had secured possession of an electric auto- mobile concern at Hartford, and it found, therefore, that it needed storage batteries. This drew its attention to Mr. Rice's com- pany, and in a short time Mr. Rice found that the syndicate was undermining his control. He resisted, but vainly and, seeing what was at hand, retired to the Electric Vehicle Com- pany, of which he became president, while the syndicate took possession of the Storage Battery concern. Its first purpose, of course, was to get cheap storage batteries for its Hartford factory, but as soon as it was in possession it discovered the contract by which the Storage Battery Company, its heirs and assigns, was bound to sell storage batteries at a cheaper price to the Electric Vehicle Company than to anybody else. This would, of course, defeat the very object the syndicate most desired, so the syn- (Mr. Marburg was a director in the American Mail Steamship Company.) H. G. Runkle $309,260 Chicago Union Traction and other stock (Mr. Runkle was secretary of the American Mail Steamship Company.) R. C. Peabody $80,000 N. Y. Gas and Electric and other securities (R. C. Peabody was a brother of G. F. Peabody, who was a director of the State Trust Company.) David B. Sickles $12,250 American Surety and other securities Many of the securities supporting the loans made by the company were securities of com- panies floated by the syndicate or promoted by individual members thereof, and some of these startled the conservative element in Wall Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 643 bringing about the treaty of peace, Mr. Keene was promised 2,500 shares of Electric Vehicle stock. This promise was never kept. Subsequently, without informing Mr. Keene, the syndicate made a beautiful move by which the $2,000,000 in cash that had been paid into the treasury of the Electric Vehicle for the $4,000,000 of preferred stock, was de- posited in the State Trust Company, thus bringing the money directly back to the place from which it started. This working of the game, coupled with the refusal to pay him for his labors, undoubtedly nettled Mr. Keene. It was afterward asserted that he instigated the attack of Kling and secured the informa- tion that Kling laid before the governor. dicate declared that it would not recognize nor be bound by the contract. Mr. Rice in- sisted (as was his indubitable right) that the contract was perfectly legal and proper and must be enforced. The syndicate gentlemen responded that they would not observe it any, way. A bitter row ensued. Mr. Rice pur- posed to enforce the contract in the courts, which would probably have been not to the fancy of the syndicate. Anyway, Mr. James R. Keene was called in to try to effect a settle- ment without litigation. He met the gentle- men of the syndicate, Mr. Elihu Root, their confidential adviser, and Mr. Rice. Mr. Keene considered the financial condition of Electric Vehicle and finally proposed a com- promise that would secure Electric Vehicle financial assistance and give the syndicate in effect some of the advantages it demanded. The capital of Electric Vehicle was $10,000,- 000, of which $4,000,000 in preferred stock was in the company's treasury. The syndi- cate agreed that its Storage Battery Company should take over the $4,000,000 of preferred Electric Vehicle stock then in the Electric Vehicle treasury, at a price that was less than its market value. This stock was to be held by the Storage Battery Company. Then Electric Vehicle was to issue $2,000,000 of ad- ditional common stock, which the syndicate was to purchase at par, thus effecting to all practical intents an amalgamation of the two companies. OFFICE-BOY STORY, CONTINUED There was still much more to the story of Daniel H. Shea, office boy. Mr. Kilburn in his report quoted the full text of the obliga- tion on which an office boy secured $2,000,- 000. It read thus: TO THE STATE TRUST COMPANY. Gentlemen: Please take up and pay for 20,000 shares of the preferred stock of the Electric Vehicle Company which will be delivered to you by that company at par, and hold same for my account. I will reimburse you on demand for the amount paid, with four per cent. interest from the date of payment and all expenses, including revenue stamps. DANIEL H. SHEA. We hereby guarantee the performance of the above promise. P. A. B. WIDENER, THOMAS F. RYAN. SYNDICATE SLIPPERINESS Accordingly, on May 13, 1899, the Elec- tric Vehicle Company issued $2,000,000 of additional common stock, which the syndi- cate took. It also possessed itself of the $4,000,000 of preferred stock that had been in the Electric Vehicle treasury. Instead of placing this $4,000,000 of preferred stock in the Storage Battery treasury, the syndicate placed there $2,000,000 of the preferred stock and the $2,000,000 of new common stock that had just been issued, and thus had the remaining $2,000,000 of preferred stock to manipulate. It was to carry out this deal that the $2,000,000 loan was made through office-boy Shea, the money thus secured from the State Trust Company's resources enabling the syndicate to make a $1,000,000 transaction and secure possession of the Elec- tric Vehicle Company, As an interesting corollary of this narrative, it may be mentioned that for his services in On this extraordinary document Mr. Kil- burn made the following significant com- ment: “President Johnston testified before me that the guarantee was made at the time the loan was made, but by this I think he must have meant to be understood that the guaran- tee was made at the time the obligation was given by Mr. Shea and the transaction trans- ferred from advances to loans." Which was the only reference in the report to the highly interesting fact of the transfer from “advances” to “loans" and the only hint at another state of facts still more impor- tant. For the New York World charged (and was never contradicted therein) that the ad- vance to Shea was really made at an earlier date, that it had then no endorsement of any kind, and that there had already been a default in the interest, which had been added to the principal. 644 Everybody's Magazine Nothing but devious twistings and turnings them to restitution, and finally to the most whichever way one looked! extraordinary steps to cover their tracks. · Mr. Kilburn, reviewing some of these things and obviously trying to put the best “BLUFFS”—FEEBLE AND FRANTIC face upon them, says in his report: “If the individuals merit severer treatment Some of the men involved in the mess tried the courts are open, and public officials may to "bluff" a way through the situation by be called upon to take cognizance of illegal averring loudly that the attack on the State acts." Trust Company had been made to rig the But no public officials ever took cognizance stock market or was malicious and unjust. of these illegal acts, though repeatedly called But reporters to whom these statements were upon. Here were a dozen instances of open, made tell me the men that made them talked defiant, and wanton violation of the laws that like men with unstrung nerves and that chill are made to preserve financial honesty and to concern looked out of their eyes the while. In protect innocent depositors, laws fundamental a way almost pitiable, they seemed to have lost to the essential security of business; and yet their heads, and in the stress of their painful against the men guilty of these offenses not a situation to be no more "kings of finance" public officer lifted a finger nor said a word. nor “captains of industry," but very ordi- More than that, it was well understood from nary persons trying with cheap and foolish the first that no one would be punished for devices to escape the consequences of their these crimes, and that so far as these offenses own misdoing. In their confusion they even were concerned the law was a thing of shreds attempted to defend the office-boy Shea loan. and patches. First they said it was secured by a large block of valuable stock, very valuable. What THE SYNDICATE FRIGHTENED stock? Electric Vehicle stock. But as Elec- tric Vehicle was now known to be one of the And yet from the first there was a strange side issues of the syndicate, that would hardly terror upon all the eminent gentlemen con- do. Then they said that the loan was all cerned. Mr. Kling's petition was made pub- right because it was guaranteed; but a belated lic on January 12th; the newspapers began to guarantee on a loan without consideration or get hold of the basic facts in the case about the real security, made by gentlemen that are 14th. On the 15th Mr. Whitney paid back obtaining the proceeds of the loan, hardly the $300,000 that had been his share of the seemed worth bothering about. Finally, one Shea loan, and on the next day Mr. Widener of the officers of the company said the loan returned his portion. It appeared that on was all right because it was secured by a de- the day of the publishing of Kling's petition a posit of Consolidated Gas bonds. This made frantic effort had been made to reduce the a stir, Consolidated Gas being a very valuable Payn loan, and even after General Andrews Security. Investigation showed that these so- had begun his investigation, $100,000 had called bonds consisted of promissory notes been hastily paid in to reduce the illegal loan issued by the Consolidated Gas Company to the Metropolitan Traction Company. One when, at Mr. Ryan's direction, it took over member of the syndicate, who had enjoyed the New York Gas & Electric Light, Heat much political experience and influence, sent and Power Company, both companies being a New York politician to Mr. Kilburn with an syndicate concerns, and that this transaction urgent plea that the superintendent should do occurred subsequent to the Shea loan. What as little in the matter as possible. Mr. Kilo really happened between the two gas com- burn violently expelled the politician from his panies is too long and too remote a story to office. Yet the gentlemen could hardly have tell here, but the alleged interposition in the been in fear of the penitentiary they had Shea affair was at most a mere matter of earned; they must have known they were in bookkeeping, was too late to avail anything little danger of that. Mr. Elihu Root, now anyway, and was, as a matter of fact, gro- Secretary of State, was daily in communica- tesquely absurd because the directors had tion by telephone and otherwise with Albany, made confession of the real nature of the loan and the syndicate knew Mr. Root well and had when they made restitution—a singular indi- a reasonable faith in his ability and success in cation of the fright that had seized upon the such delicate affairs. It was something else gentlemen making this blunder. that shook them all with visible alarms, drove Further signs of trepidation were seen in Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 645 the hurried rush of the syndicate to secure its through with a rush. And so, behind the fortifications at Albany. When Mr. Charles respectable figurehead of Levi P. Morton, P. Bacon, Kling's attorney, found that Elihu the State Trust Company passed from sight. Root had persuaded the state administration And with it disappeared the evidence in the to take no steps in the matter, and that the books. For this was what the syndicate, prosecuting officers were resolved to protect with such manifest signs of agitation, was the lawbreakers, he appealed to the attorney striving so frantically to bring about. It had general to begin an action to revoke the Trust received one lesson; never has it needed to be Company's charter. To all impartial minds , taught anything twice. this seemed a reasonable proposal. The com- pany had openly and in many dangerous WHAT WERE THEY AFRAID OF? ways violated the law. Nothing was clearer than that it existed to gather funds from the As to what would have happened if Kling unsuspecting public and deliver such funds had not suddenly thrust his petition into the to the mills of the syndicate. As the law wheels, that is a matter of opinion. There is officers refused to punish the men that had not the slightest doubt that the money of the done these things, therefore the game had depositors had been used to help the syndicate best be stopped, the house closed, and the in some of the ramifications of its enormous tools broken up. operations. One may believe that the syndi- But the syndicate's move upon Albany cate intended to replace the money it had forestalled any such action—it has always taken, or one may believe that eventually, but had the most marvelous success in getting for the appearance of Kling, the Trust Com- what it wanted at any seat of government, big pany would have been depleted and ruined. or little. In this case the law department There are precedents for either supposition. would take no action and the legislation de- But however that may be, this combination manded in the interest of the depositors was was caught with its hand in the till and was blocked by a band of expert lobbyists. obliged to make abject confession, hurried One of these, a man named Dinkelspiel, restitution, and an extremely awkward and was particularly active at Albany in the syn- humiliating exit from the premises. When the dicate's behalf. Mr. Bacon observed him man in your community that has prated most at work one day and protested against his about law, order, the welfare of society, and the methods, which were exceedingly frank as sublimity of honesty is discovered some night well as energetic. Mr. Bacon said he would in somebody else's chicken coop, he presents call the matter to the attention of the authori- a very unseemly spectacle, and so did certain ties and have Dinkelspiel put off the floor of gentlemen of the syndicate. When with much the house. Dinkelspiel said: good-will they kicked the obdurate Kling out “You make me tired.” of the American Surety Company, they never Which, I suppose, was true, for he was dreamed what was in store for them. And never interfered with by the authorities. when Kling, who had been watching all the time from a crack in the coop, suddenly EXIT STATE TRUST COMPANY leaped at them out of the dark with a con- stable, there was a shriek of agony and such The legislature declined to interfere in be- genuine terror that it was literally a tremb- half of the public, and the syndicate put in ling syndicate that the constable held up to its track-covering measure. It was a bit of the world's scornful gaze. clever bill-drawing, pretending to amend the But what was it that the gentlemen were banking act and really authorizing the State so much afraid of ? . Trust Company to lose its identity by amal Let us not consider too curiously of this, gamating with the Morton Trust Company, but fix our admiring attention on the services whereof the chief owner is Mr. Ryan. “The to society and the ability, energy, and fore- real purpose of this bill,” said Mr. Bacon bit- sight involved in breaking the law, evading terly, “is to enable the State Trust Company prosecution, and diverting to our own profit to burn its books and destroy the evidence the money entrusted to us by others. For contained in them.” But he wasted his therein lies much instruction concerning the breath in protests. Under the active guid- golden palace and other subjects pertinent ance of the Republican whips, the bill went to this inquiry. “ Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ?” will be continued in the December number. The Heroism of Mr. Peglow By E. J. RATH Illustrations by Frederic R. Gruger D'VEN though the door to the inner office fortably fat. They shared a serenity that C was closed, the ears of Simeon Hobby nothing had ever disturbed-until Miss could not escape from the maddening peck- Pickett came. peck-peck that came from beyond it. For at It was Mr. Hobby who was really responsi- least the tenth time that afternoon he straight- ble for her. In a deferentially shy manner ened up wearily from his desk, sighed, and Mr. Peglow had let it be known that he con- shook his head slowly. Then he looked in the sidered her advent a dangerous innovation. direction of Mr. Peglow, who was shifting rest. He might even have carried the day had he lessly on the top of his high stool. There was been firm, but Mr. Peglow was far too con- some satisfaction in knowing that Peglow siderate of his employer's desires to dream shared the misery. of anything like open opposition. So, in a Mr. Hobby wondered if ever again the firm moment of weakness, Mr. Hobby had yielded of Hobby & Hoople would know the joy of to the insidious advance of that thing called quiet, peaceful concentration, safe from the Progress. Henceforth, the letters of Hobby distracting peck-peck-peck that issued from & Hoople would be typewritten. behind the glass door. For three months Miss Pickett was young and brisk and now he had been unable to figure an estimate, smiling, in sharp relief to the dinginess of the write a letter, or even read a newspaper ex office. Mr. Hobby and Mr. Peglow did not cept to the accompaniment of Miss Pickett's mind that so much-although when two men typewriter. have passed the fifty-year mark together, For sixty years Hobby & Hoople had without marriage, they are apt to be “set." prospered, in spite of the fact that their It was the noise that hurt. That was some- correspondence was not typewritten. The thing to which they had given no considera- original Hobby and the original Hoople were tion. But for three months now they had dead these many years, but the firm, which been able to give consideration to little else. was now none other than Simeon Hobby, They had never spoken to each other about solely and exclusively, had never seen any it. Secretly, Mr. Hobby pitied Mr. Peglow, reason to change its sign. It was not much whose annoyance he had furtively watched given to change, in fact. It had the same for some time. Secretly, also, Mr. Peglow office, the same furniture, the same habits. had observed the misery of his employer, and It was highly respectable, deservedly prosper- his grief had an added poignancy because he ous, and enjoyed such a fame for conservatism realized that, at the crucial moment, he had that some people said it was old-maidish. failed to be sufficiently outspoken against the The buying of a typewriter and the employ- impending evil. Miss Pickett, who observed ment of a young person to manipulate it had nothing of their distress, conscientiously been a matter of long and serious considera- pecked away at the typewriter with what tion by Mr. Hobby and Mr. Peglow. By seemed to be a daily increasing ardor. birth, instinct, and long training, Mr. Peglow On this particular afternoon Mr. Hobby was even more conservative than his em- watched the trim figure of Miss Pickett de- ployer. Together, he and Mr. Hobby had part from the office with a feeling of relief. grown up in the business, one to become the Then he was seized with sudden resolution. firm, the other its chief clerk and bookkeeper. “Mr. Peglow," he said quietly. Together, they had pursued an even tenor of Mr. Peglow slipped from his high stool and commercial placidity. Mr. Peglow was little approached his employer's desk. and thin and bald. Mr. Hobby was com- “Sit down, Mr. Peglow," said Mr. Hobby. 646 The Heroism of Mr. Peglow 647 pened. Mr. Peglow sat down, with full understand “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Peglow promptly. ing that something of importance had hap Mr. Hobby looked surprised. He did not know that Mr. Peglow had been observing "Mr. Peglow," said Mr. Hobby, folding him. After another pause he cleared his his hands across his waistcoat, “Miss Pickett throat and said very firmly: has now been with us for three months.” “We both owe a certain duty to the house “Yes, sir," confirmed Mr. Peglow. of Hobby & Hoople, Mr. Peglow.” “And we are having our correspondence “We do, sir; most assuredly." typewritten." “The duty of always doing our best," “Yes, sir." added Mr. Hobby. “Is our business increasing, Mr. Peglow?” Mr. Peglow confirmed it with a nod. “It is normally good, sir,” said Mr. Peglow “On the other hand, Mr. Peglow, the firm” conservatively. -Mr. Hobby always spoke impersonally of “What I am getting at,” explained Mr. the firm—"owes to us an opportunity to do Hobby, “is whether, as a result of having our our best work. It owes us quiet and freedom correspondence typewritten, we are increasing from interruption, and a fair chance." the volume of our business." “Yes, sir; I think so, sir." "Hum,” said Mr. Peglow reflectively. "I “But we are not getting that opportu- - I think it's about the same, sir." nity, Mr. Peglow," said his employer, with The house of Hobby & Hoople remained sudden and significant emphasis. silent for several mo- Mr. Peglow nodded ments, thinking deeply. his head mournfully. At last he observed: “We are being an- “I have been watch- noyed,” continued Mr. ing you at odd times, Hobby. Mr. Peglow, ever since A shrug. Miss Pickett came.” “Our nerves are be- “Yes, sir.” ing destroyed,” added “I think she annoys Mr. Hobby, in further indictment of the firm. "Oh, indeed,” pro- Another shrug from tested Mr. Peglow, “I Mr. Peglow. am sure Miss Pickett is “Very good, then," quite ladylike.” said Mr. Hobby. “The “Certainly, certainly, duty of the firm is clear. Mr. Peglow,” said Mr. We-1-shall dismiss Hobby hastily. “I did Miss Pickett.” not mean that. Miss Mr. Peglow gazed Pickett is, indeed, a out of the window and genteel person. What felt uncomfortable. I mean is, I think the Never in his day had noise of the typewriter the firm of Hobby & is distressing to you.” Hoople discharged any- Mr. Peglow shrugged body. Lifetimes were his shoulders. spent in its service, "I think it distracts rather. The very idea THE ORIGINAL HOBBY AND THE ORIGINAL your mind,” continued of a discharge was a Mr. Hobby. shock to Mr. Peglow. Mr. Peglow waved his hands in a depre- To be sure, Mr. Hobby had softened the cating way. word, but he could not soften the fact. "In short, I think you no longer work in “The firm owes it to us, Mr. Peglow,” said comfort, Mr. Peglow.” Mr. Hobby judicially. “I shall dismiss Miss “Um-m-well-possibly,” admitted Mr. Pickett to-morrow. Er-how long do you Peglow. think it is customary to give notice?" "And do you know that I have the same Mr. Peglow shook his head helplessly, for feeling myself?” said Mr. Hobby, eying his this was another innovation. chief clerk. “A week?” asked Mr. Hobby doubtfully. you." i FER IIOOPLE. 650 Everybody's Magazine Mr. Peglow sighed and returned to his “But, Miss Pickett, spelling " books, while Mr. Hobby, firm in his resolu “I know; I know, sir,” interrupted Miss tion, immediately sent for Miss Pickett. Pickett, nodding her head vigorously. "Spell- “Sit down, if you please, Miss Pickett,” ing is very important. I always did have he said, waving her to a seat. He took a trouble with it. But I've just thought of a letter from his desk. scheme." “This letter, Miss Pickett,” he began, “is “Yes?" said Mr. Hobby faintly. addressed to one of our oldest customers, the “Couldn't you buy me a dictionary?”. firm of Gammidge & Tillson." Miss Pickett's eyes were sincere and ap- Miss Pickett indicated her comprehension pealing, and as Mr. Hobby met their friendly with a nod. gaze he faltered. “Gammidge & Tillson,” repeated Mr. “Even a small dictionary would do,” added Hobby. “But I find that you have spelled Miss Pickett. Gammidge without a 'd."" Mr. Hobby turned an uneasy glance in the “Did I?” asked Miss Pickett, in a tone of direction of Mr. Peglow. That faithful little surprise. “Why, so I did. But now I think man was bent low over his ledger. The head of it, sir, I have always been spelling it that of the firm stirred nervously in his seat, and way." then said, in a low voice: "You have, indeed,” said Mr. Hobby, his “Certainly, Miss Pickett. You shall have task lightened by the frank admission. a dictionary to-morrow.” "I never knew there was a 'd' in it," added “That will be lovely,” said Miss Pickett Miss Pickett. gratefully, rising and picking up the offending “You didn't?" exclaimed Mr. Hobby in letter. “Did you say there ought to be two amazement. 'l's' in 'respectfully'?". “You never told me,” said Miss Pickett “Yes, two,” said Mr. Hobby, turning to his simply. work with a sigh. Mr. Hobby showed traces of embarrass- The following morning Mr. Peglow un- ment. wrapped a large package at the office. When “I-I guess you are right, Miss Pickett,” his employer arrived he hastened to an- he said, fumbling for another letter. “We nounce: will pass that over, if you please. It was quite “A dictionary has been sent to us, sir. my fault; I should have told you. But here Doubtless there is some mistake.” is a letter where the case is quite different. “No, there isn't any mistake,” said Mr. Here, where you make us say 'we would beg Hobby humbly. to state that we are shipping to you,' etc., you "Is it meant for us?” asked Mr. Peglow in have spelled 'beg' with two 'g's' and you surprise. have put only one 'p'in ‘shipping.” "It's for Miss Pickett.” Miss Pickett leaned over and examined the Mr. Peglow, mouth open, gazed at his letter. employer for several seconds. Then he “So I did," she said apologetically. shook his head slowly from side to side and “And down here," continued Mr. Hobby, went back to his stool. "you have spelled the word “transmit' with The pecking noise from the inner office two 't's,' and 'quote' as if it were 'quoit, continued to destroy the peace of the firm of and you have put but one'l'inrespectfully."" Hobby & Hoople. Mr. Hobby and Mr. Miss Pickett again examined the letter with Peglow endured it in silence, as a sort of interest. penance. For a fortnight they spoke no "I am a bad speller,” she admitted. “A more of it. Each knew that the other's heart dreadful one.” was full, but each possessed such an acute "I fear so, Miss Pickett,” said Mr. Hobby sense of delicacy that he refrained from al- in a regretful tone. “Yet it is necessary lusion to an unpleasant topic. Miss Pickett that our correspondence should be correctly continued to be conscientiously punctual in spelled.” the mornings, and thumbed the pages of her “Of course it is,” declared Miss Pickett. dictionary so persistently that spelling be- “I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll write that came a dead issue. There was more type- letter all over again.” writing than ever now, for Miss Pickett wrote Mr. Hobby looked startled and began each letter twice. From the original copy hastily: she would carefully compare doubtful words The Heroism of Mr. Peglow 651 with the bulky volume at her elbow; then she Mr. Hobby brightened. would rewrite each letter in accordance with “Yes, I could, I suppose-and, by Jove, the accepted standard of orthography. The I will! I will do it at once. Miss Pickett! educational value of the undertaking was No, no, Mr. Peglow; remain here, if you great-for Miss Pickett—but it was wrecking please.” the nervous systems of Mr. Hobby and Mr. Mr. Peglow shifted uneasily from one foot Peglow. to the other as Miss Pickett appeared with "Cannot you think of any other reason, her notebook. Mr. Peglow?” asked his employer one day, “Er-Miss Pickett," said Mr. Hobby. when his mood had become desperate. “Yes, sir?" “For what?" asked Mr. Peglow, temporiz “Mr. Peglow and I”-it was cowardly to ing weakly. bring Mr. Peglow into it, but his employer “For dismissing Miss Pickett." felt the need of moral support—"Mr. Peg- FRGAUGER “WHERE DID YOU EVER GET THE IDEA THAT THE TYPEWRITER NEEDED A NEW RIBBON, MR. PEGLOW?" Now, Mr. Peglow gladly would have been of assistance, but he could think of nothing, so he shook his head to signify that fact. "But, don't you see," said Mr. Hobby, “that you and I cannot stand this much longer? You are going to break down under it. So am I. We shall never become ac- customed to it. We are too old to learn. We must think of some other way." "I wish I could,” said Mr. Peglow un- happily. “But you must,” declared Mr. Hobby, with unwonted emphasis. Mr. Peglow thought long and deeply, and then said: “Couldn't you just do it on account of the real reason?" low and I think—that is, we have come to the conclusion—that the typewriter is-er—why — By the way, what was it we were saying about the typewriter, Mr. Peglow?" Mr. Peglow gave his employer a glance of bitter reproach. Then he looked at Miss Pickett. “I think we were saying, sir,” he said slowly, “that the typewriter was in need of a new ribbon." Mr. Hobby gazed at his clerk in amaze- ment. Mr. Peglow was slightly flushed. Had he been anybody other than himself, his expression might have been interpreted as one of defiance. The head of the firm ventured to look at Miss Pickett. Then he groveled. 652 Everybody's Magazine “Does it need a new ribbon?” he asked, “There is one other thing," added Mr. swallowing hard. Hobby. “I have been thinking of it for a “Why, I hardly think so," said Miss long time, Mr. Peglow. I am going to make Pickett, puzzled. “I put on a new one you an offer of partnership.” yesterday afternoon." Mr. Peglow was too overcome for speech. Mr. Hobby bent his head over his desk and There was an almost painful silence, broken began to examine only by the peck- minutely a letter that peck-peck from the he had just signed. inner room. “So you did; so "You have long you did,” he mur- been a faithful em- mured. “Where did ployee, Mr. Peg- you ever get the idea low," his employer that the typewriter continued at last. needed a new ribbon, “I have reached the Mr. Peglow?" point in life where I “I–I don'tknow, wish to share the sir,” said Mr. Peg- burdens - and the low awkwardly. profits-of the busi- “Perhaps I was ness. I can think mistaken." of none so deserving “Yes, you were as you." mistaken,'' said Mr. The chief clerk Hobby almost se- was still speechless. verely, still exam- “Therefore,” said ining the letter. Mr. Hobby, “I in- “The ribbon seems tend to make you quite new. I guess "AH!" EXCLAIMED MR. HOBBY, “ SO SHE WENT IN my partner—on one that's all, Miss Pick- HAPPINESS AND NOT IN SORROW." condition.” ett, thank you.” He looked up at Miss Pickett went back to the inner office. Mr. Peglow very gravely, then over his Mr. Hobby and Mr. Peglow ventured to look shoulder to see whether the glass door was at each other. Not a word was spoken. closed. After that he leaned forward and The chief clerk sighed eloquently and re- whispered hoarsely: turned to his high stool. The firm shook his . “On condition that you dispense with that head slowly and bent over his desk. —that noise.” They endured another week of it, during Mr. Peglow swallowed hard, his face show- which Mr. Peglow made no further allusions ing an expression of mingled joy and anguish. to the pay-roll. What they suffered neither "Mr. Hobby," he began, “I am so deeply confided to the other, though each continued grateful to you that I cannot find the right his surreptitious and sympathetic observa- words to say. But— " tions. “Good-by, Mr. Peglow," said Mr. Hobby Then, late one day, Mr. Hobby summoned abruptly, rising from his chair, slamming his chief clerk. down the lid of his desk, and reaching for his “Mr. Peglow," he said, “I shall not be here hat. “Good-by, sir. I am going at once. to-morrow." I may be gone a couple of weeks—or a month; Mr. Peglow looked incredulous, for this I don't know. I leave it all in your hands." was another innovation. He seized Mr. Peglow's unresisting hand, “No," continued Mr. Hobby. “And I wrung it warmly, and walked briskly out. shall not be here probably for several weeks.” Mr. Peglow gazed after him stupidly. A Mr. Peglow stood in mute amazement. partnership! The dream of his life was to “I am going away, Mr. Peglow,” said become a reality. No longer would he be the firm wearily. “Going away for a rest. with Hobby & Hoople; he would be of them. My nerves demand it. I can endure it no He drew a deep breath and straightened his longer. You will have to look after the little figure manfully. He glanced about the business.” dusty office with the old feeling of tender- Mr. Peglow bowed his head submissively. ness, and an entirely new sensation of proud The Heroism of Mr. Peglow 653 possession. Then his eye fell on the glass fault, and he reproached himself for it. door and his ear caught the sound that came He never should have made such a condition. from within. The joy faded out of his He had forced Peglow to do it. He had countenance and he became a picture of de- shirked his own duty, and had offered the jection. For a full minute he stood thus, performance of it as a sort of bribe to another. his hands twitching nervously. Then Mr. The old-time silence of the office no longer Peglow did something that no man had ever seemed so joyful as it did in other days. seen him do before. He doubled up his fist, Actually, he seemed to miss that maddening raised it over his head, and shook it in im- peck-peck-peck. potent rage. Mr. Hobby stepped into the outer office The head of the firm of Hobby & Hoople again and closed the door behind him softly. was gone for a full three weeks, during which Mr. Peglow was laboring over his accounts, time he wrote not a single letter to Mr. Peg- his conscience apparently easy. The head low, greatly to that gentleman's alarm. Then of the firm studied his back in silence for half he appeared one forenoon, as suddenly as a minute. · Then he said almost sharply: he had departed. Mr. Peglow found him “Mr. Peglow!” self whacked heartily on the shoulder, and “Yes, sir?” said Mr. Peglow, slipping off whisked about to view a rejuvenated Mr. his stool. Hobby, ruddy and smiling and almost boyish. “I believe you are my partner now, Mr. “And how are you, Mr. Peglow?” said the Peglow.” firm heartily. The little man dropped his eyes modestly. “I am well, Mr. Hobby, and I am indeed “By that I mean,” said Mr. Hobby, "you glad to see you, sir.” have-er-dismissed Miss Pickett.” “You are looking fine," commented Mr. Mr. Peglow did not lift his eyes, but made Hobby. “Has everything gone all right?” a slight inclination of the head. “Oh, yes, sir; I think so." “Would you mind telling me, Mr. Peglow, Mr. Hobby swept a glance around the how you accomplished it?” office and nodded his head, as if in confirma- “Why,” said Mr. Peglow, in a low voice, tion. The door to the inner office was closed. “Miss Pickett left to be married.” No sound came from beyond it, although he “Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Hobby, his face listened almost fearfully. Then he tiptoed brightening. “So she went in happiness and toward it softly, listened again, and finally not in sorrow. I am glad, very glad, sir.” opened it and entered. Mr. Peglow himself looked pleased. There was nobody there. The typewriter “And whom did she marry?" inquired Mr. stood pathetically on Miss Pickett's desk. Hobby, with polite interest in the affairs of He ran his finger along the top of the frame his late amanuensis. and found it thick with dust. Another layer “Me," said Mr. Peglow, with a blush. of dust coated the dictionary. Mr. Hobby The head of the firm of Hobby & Hoople contemplated the scene for a moment and stared open-mouthed at the junior partner. then sighed deeply. Mr. Peglow's eyes fell again and he shifted Peglow had done it, after all. Peglow was his weight to the other foot. There was a a braver man than he. There was something long, embarrassed silence. Then Mr. Hobby unpleasant in the thought. Peglow was his roused himself and stepped forward im- partner now. Why shouldn't Peglow have pulsively. He seized Mr. Peglow's hand in been brave? He had a motive, an ambition. a viselike grip, shook it violently, and turned For the sake of the ambition he had-Mr. to his desk without a word. Hobby tried not to think about it. Of course, Five minutes later he paused midway in the he wanted Peglow for his partner, but he dis- task of opening a pile of letters, and muttered: liked to reflect that his desire had been won “I wonder why in the world I didn't think in such a way. At any rate, it was his own of that myself.” The Newest Land of Promise Exodus of a Million Farmers Annually into the Southwest By G. W. OGDEN Illustrated with Photographs EDITOR'S NOTE.— The Southwest alone is recruiting one hundred thousand men each month to the army of American prosperity. And ninety-six per cent. of these are American born. Practically all of them go from the territory lying between the Alleghanies and the Mississippi. Their cry is “ A quarter-section and independence, and some of them, from the cities, add “Let the foreigners have the packing-house jobs.” This movement is not a boom, It is the nation maintaining its balance; moving on to the last frontier. Where a million immigrants settle in the cities, a million American citizens, obeying the call of awakened man- hood, go back to the land. Within ten years all the available cheap lands will be occupied, but they will be occupied by men and women grounded in the best traditions of Americanism; they will produce the surplus foodstuffs that insure us a balance of trade. This means continued national prosperity. Mr. Ogden gives us a brilliant picture of the movement. IMAGINE a million people sixty years ago I shifting from east to west yearly over the Oregon trail by wagon and ox-team! What a furor such a migration would have occa- sioned, what an epoch it would have marked in history! A few thousand in a decade of those far years made history of a most im- pressive and lasting kind. But in our time a million people shift each year from between the Alleghanies and the Mississippi, and dis- appear-as the turgid flood of the Red River sinks from sight in the desert sands—ab- sorbed by that deep-breathed, level-hori- zoned country which lies down yonder under the haze of the Southwest. Almost a hundred thousand a month stream through Kansas City and St. Louis, the gateways that ward the highroads lead- ing out into the great Southwest, and ninety- six per cent. of them are American-born. Nor is this all. It is but one branch of a divergent stream, which splits its current at the edge of what was once the “plains," the other branch running up into the Northwest, as this one bends down into the mesas and vegas and llanos of a more salubrious clime. What is the meaning of this migration, this apparent unrest and discontent? wherein lies the cause? what is the effect? In homely phrase, it is the people of the country swarming. It is the nation main- taining its balance; the increase pouring out, like liberated flocks, into new pastures; the pioneers of the plow moving on to the last frontier. It is the unprecedented race for cheap lands, the last of which, suitable to the needs of husbandry, are disappearing at a rate that in ten years-many well-informed persons say five-will have absorbed them all. The past two years have witnessed a won- derful awakening in the Southwest, and especially in Texas. The railroads, which formerly built into the Southwest for the pur- pose of handling the live-stock traffic, lately became plagued with the notion that they were overlooking something. As a result of their cogitations, they became active in in- ducing the immigration of agriculturists, and to their wonderfully well-organized and far-reaching bureaus of information and ad- vertising the quick growth of this new em- pire is primarily due. Twice each month "home-seekers' excursions” are run, tickets from the principal gateway cities being sold at a great reduction. One Western railroad has carried as many as ten thousand land-seekers on a single excursion into Oklahoma and Texas, conveying them in special trains. On home-seekers' days, all trains on the roads reaching the Southwest from Kansas City, the assembling-point, are run in several sections each, supplemented by many specials 654 The Newest Land of Promise 655 of from seven to ten coaches. Much of this cally all entered, that cheap tracts were dis- travel goes into the Pecos Valley of New appearing like snow before a chinook. Mexico, much to Arizona, but there are sev- There are several potent factors to be con- eral great trunk lines pouring into Texas, and sidered as leading up to this situation, to this Texas is the center from which this marvelous growing scarcity, this unprecedented de- transformation is spreading. mand. Foreign immigration, indirectly, has Modern methods in empire building have a bearing, but only in so far as it crowds the caused vast changes in Texas during the past industrial marts of the East and pushes Amer- two years. The biggest cattle-ranches in the ican-born men—who find it harder and state have been cut up and sold, or are being harder, more painful, more degrading, to sold, and hundreds of comparatively big ones adjust their ideas of manhood and freedom to which remain are being surveyed and staked. the ever-growing exactions of capital-out The farmer is coming, and the day of the long- into the open; out into the promise of a horn is past. In place of the lean-flanked chance at life where it is not all give on their steer is found the complacent white-face, side and all take on that of the other man. round and comely and sleek; in place of the But as for the foreign-born taking away the belted, ammunition-weighted cowboy, the American's birthright of land, it hasn't come bland German farmer who raises Bermuda to that to any great extent. Government onions on the shores of the Rio Grande. A figures show that out of the total of 1,100,735 recent journey from Amarillo to El Paso, immigrants who entered our ports in the year from El Paso to Nueces Bay, did not discover ending June 30, 1906, only four per cent. a man who wore his weapons in sight. found their way into the Southwest. Ninety The whole Southwest is changing, fast. In per cent. of them remained in the East, that is, the Panhandle, the cattleman has given place east of the Alleghanies, crowding just that to the cattle-raiser (a significant distinction in many others a little farther along toward the Texas), and in the southwest gulf coast coun- fringe of the West. As for the Southwest, it try the truck-gardener has pushed him out of would welcome any kind of foreigner, save a the plain entirely, or driven him, by virtue of yellow-tinted one, who would turn his hand to example, to put his hand to the plow. In the soil. Texas a “truck-patch” is any kind of a farm Another cause--and it is the biggest one not devoted to cotton. It may comprise five outside the shifting of practical farmers from acres or five thousand, but unless it grows expensive land to cheap-is the discontent cotton it is a truck-patch, just the same among the wage-earners of the cities of the But to come back to the text. This is a middle states. The biggest demand on real- big country-BIG, when a million people can estate dealers in the Middle West to-day is for go trapesing around over it and not cause any- small tracts within reach of market. The body to get up from the supper-table to see easiest kind of a trade to make to-day is city what's kicking up all the dust. And a million property for farm land. The increased cost is only part of the army hustling out to set the of living, out of proportion to the increase in stakes mas alla, as the Mexicans say-hus- wages; the socialistic propaganda, which is tling out and humping off into the chaparral enabling men to weigh scientifically the cause and flat leagues of prairie, to grow more and effect of industrial conditions; the realiza- wheat and corn, cotton and alfalfa, and the tion that, as long as a man must stay in the fifty-nine other useful varieties of crops, producing class he would better arrange it so there are sixty-three in Texas—to make the that the greater share of his product may nation bigger and happier, and fatter and benefit himself; the awakening of the man- better. hood in men-all these tend to call them back Land hunger laid its grip on the nation to the ground. about three years ago, and for two years “A quarter section and independence” is it has been acute. Its first symptoms were the cry of the shop-worn, shambles-wasted apparent in the jostling rush into the opened toilers who are at last beginning to come into Indian lands of the Northwest, where the their own. It's a big thing for the muscle and rule was ten candidates for every quarter- the nerve of this country. It will do more section the government had to parcel out toward solving the labor question than unions This seemed to bring the people to a realiza and associations; it will breed a new race out tion of the situation, of the undeniable fact on the prairies; it will cut down the output of that public lands worth having were practi- spindle-shanked, sallow, anemic children. 656 Everybody's Magazine “A quarter-section and independence for asking an unreasonable price for your land, us! Let the foreigners have the packing- based on what you paid for it a year ago, Mr. house jobs!” Agent, but what it is worth to me. The mat- Land is being sold in the Southwest on con- ter of buying a section, or ten sections, of land ditions which, assuredly, place it within the comes down to an exact and equitable ex- reach of any man disposed to own it. Large change of values. There is no flurry, no companies which acquired the land several excitement about it. The brass band, red- years ago, or the owners of ranches, and in lettered canvas, and free refreshment methods some cases railroad companies, are prepared of the town-site boomer have no place in the to sell almost any sized tract on a small initial peopling of the Southwest. payment and long time on the balance. If a Of course the city man, who doesn't know man doesn't want a section or a quarter-sec land, must depend on the integrity of the land tion, he can get what he does want, even down agent, or on the information supplied him by to ten acres. This amount, in the truck- the railroad. The railroads guard his inter- gardening gulf coast country of Texas, where ests, too. They want producing people along he may grow anything from beans to bananas, their lines, and are careful to inform all in- is enough to make him rich. And Texas and quirers fully regarding whatever locality they Oklahoma can take care of five million people may desire to visit. So there is practically no yet without crowding. All over Texas they're blind buying wearing “five-million” buttons now, setting The railroads assume the speculative load that as their mark for 1910. in latter-day colonization. Vast amounts of money are spent by them in rendering acces- The men who are developing the Southwest sible lands that are straining their fecund come mainly from the middle states east of the acres toward the hands of the husbandman; Mississippi River, and from Iowa, Kansas, in spanning leagues that may lie untouched and Nebraska on the west. For the most and unprofitable for a generation, to tap the part they have been pioneers in the communi- promised abundance of a region beyond. It ties they leave who have profited by acquir- isn't a game that bunco can enter, because it ing cheap lands. These lands they have doesn't pay to build a railroad for the mere farmed and improved and grown comfortably purpose of selling off land. It is the product rich from, and at last they have sold them at of the land, under skilful manipulation, that big prices to the overflow from the East. To makes a railroad pay. such men as these, and their sons, coming There is here none of the slow develop- into the Southwest, land at from $10 to $25 ment that characterized the old West. Okla- an acre is cheap, and they have the adven- homa has accomplished in fifteen years what turous spirit and the tried courage for facing a it took Kansas forty to attain. In the first new country and hewing it into shape, to place, these modern frontiersmen generally gether with the restless desire to be always have the railroad to carry them to their new crowding on, which is so eminently lacking in homes. Then it transports their machinery the far Easterners who supplant them. and goods to them; and it carries away their When they go into the Southwest seeking first crop. No need to stint the output be- a new location, they are met at Chicago, St. cause of lack of market. The land may be Louis, Kansas City, or Omaha by the real urged to its greatest capacity from the very estate men with whom they have been in cor start; there is the market, north and southeast respondence, and are conducted on the home- and east, calling for all that the new land can seekers' excursions — an agent having in give it; there is the new railroad, panting to charge from five to one hundred prospective carry the riches away. As a result, pros- customers—to the localities they desire to in- perity sits at the table with the colonists of spect. But the thing hasn't the aspect of in the Southwest from the beginning. You will nocents being led to the slaughter, as past find a bank in many a town where there is impressions of speculative real-estate dealers neither a saloon nor a church. would naturally lead one to believe. The farmer who is tired of growing $15 For these home-seekers are men-and not crops on $100 land; the young man who has a infrequently women-who know land values, little capital and enough grit to face the raw- not only from the standpoint of the seller, ness of the first year or two, will find in the but thoroughly from the standpoint of the Southwest riches more certain than the sun- buyer. The question is not whether you are cursed sands of Death Valley or the bleak A PARTY OF HOME-SEEKERS AND THEIR AUTOMOBILE. wastes of Alaska can offer, where, at the best, The railroads made Oklahoma, just as only one in thousands finds reward for his they made Kansas and Colorado. There is travail and heart-sickness. There is sure no gainsaying that. In spite of all their rep- prosperity, and ease, and affluence, in a clime rehensible features of financial sculduggery, blessed by nature, for every man who will put there are always good men somewhere around forth the effort to attain them. the railroads, working honestly, and for big ends. So we must give the railroads credit Oklahoma has such a friendly face. It for our lubberly brother, Oklahoma. His smiles an invitation, in all of its great expanse, railroad facilities, together with the best of the in every mile, at every beaten cross-road, to nation's youth who came to him, put him in get right out of the wagon and make yourself the seventh grade in shorter time than ter- at home. There is something familiar and ritories ordinarily require to finish the primer. homelike in the landscape, no matter where Here a man commonly buys a farm, pays for you hail from, that just makes you take a long it with the first crop, builds a big house and breath and want to stay. The invitation is barn with the next, then settles contentedly so cordial that it causes thousands of home- down to enjoy the plush parlor set and the seekers, who set out with the intention of mechanical piano on the yearly increase. going farther, to cheaper lands, to break their I t is said that there is a claimant for every journeys and cast their lines in Oklahoma. quarter-section in Oklahoma, proper. This Here cheap lands are a thing of the past; that being the case, the wonder grows where all is, as the term is understood among investors. the newcomers find standing-room, until in- Twenty dollars an acre is as low as the price vestigation reveals the fact that thousands are drops within profitable reach of transporta- leaving Oklahoma annually for the promise tion, and $50 is about the average for farm of something better beyond. You always and fruit land well located. find that kind of people, everywhere. You Oklahoma has been the land of the specu- would encounter them in the promised land, lator to a greater extent than any other ter- going through the motion of hitching up and ritory in the Union. Its history is one of suc- driving on. Oklahoma is to-day a land of cessive rushes, dating from the first on April thrift and rapid fortunes, and the sifting-out 22, 1889, down to the latest, April, 1904, process makes room in it each year for at when the Oto, Ponca, and Missouri reser- least a fifth of the migrating million whose vations were opened. The speculator came course we are following. with the dawn of opening and left with the The territory holds everything within its sunrise of solid development; capital fol- borders necessary to make it an independent lowed, like blackbirds along a fresh-turned principality. Cut off from all the world, it furrow, at the farmer's heels, and Oklahoma would suffer no want that its own resources grew mighty at one well-gathered bound. could not supply. The streets of its cities are 657 658 Everybody's Magazine being paved with its own asphalt; its business that city a wonderful story of cotton. Recog- houses, schools, churches, and court-houses nizing in the black-jack soil a close similarity are built of its own granite and marble, held to that of the Georgia cotton lands, some of together by its own cement; its people cook them had planted a few seeds, which, some- and heat with its own coal and gas, while its how, had clung to their effects when they oil, poured out in the greatest volume ever migrated to the new country. The result had discovered anywhere, goes out to illu- been a prolific yield of extra-fine cotton, and minate and lubricate the earth. In the pro- the committee had come to Guthrie to solicit duction of cotton it ranks sixth among the aid in sending South for seed enough to plant states. In 1906 it produced one million crops the following spring. bales, and this year will probably bring it up No one knew about cotton in Oklahoma, to fourth place. and for a long time no one would listen to Oklahoma very nearly overlooked cotton, them. But at length they found a man who too. The northern men who came in with was interested. He drew others in, a car- the rush didn't think of it as a cotton load of seed was bought and distributed country, didn't think of it as much of any- among the negroes, and in the spring of 1893 thing, in fact, when they saw the red soil, red the first cotton crop was planted in Okla- as a clay bank where a log pile has been homa. burned. It remained for a band of obscure Oklahoma is, right now, the marvel of the Georgia negroes, in dire misfortune, to dis- world as a producer of petroleum. Though cover its cotton qualities and give it one of its the oil-wells are located in the Creek nation of chief sources of wealth. the old Indian Territory, they will be in Okla- It was along about 1890 that a negro, E. P. homa under statehood. Already the people McCabe, ex-auditor of Kansas, with two as- write it “Tulsa, Oklahoma.” The great sociates, acquired 320 acres of land near Glenn pool, the most extensive petroleum Guthrie, laid out a town site, and induced some deposit ever discovered, lies near the city of 2,000 negroes from the South to settle there. Tulsa. From an eminence in the pool it is But the town, having nothing to support it, possible to count 250 derricks, standing, it was a failure; the inhabitants were scattered. seems, as thick as bean poles, and the field Still, a few remained, some of them even ac- is still only fairly blocked out. In earthen quiring land which the white man had passed “tanks" and great steel receptacles are stored over as worthless. One day in the fall of millions of barrels of crude oil, and the wells 1892 a committee of these negroes visited are more than half idle for want of an outlet Guthrie and laid before the business men of for their product. OKLAHOMA CITY AS IT WAS IN 1889. OKLAHOMA CITY AS IT IS TO-DAY. There are $2,000,000 turned loose in Tulsa under the provisions of recent enactments, every month, $2,000,000 in a town of 15,000 most of the lands held by the Indians may be people. Somebody is getting some money disposed of by them. In anticipation of the there; you can figure it up yourself. The inrush which must surely follow, certain com- freight business of the 'Frisco railroad at panies and wealthy individuals are already Keifer, the oil-field station, runs about $160,- on the ground, binding the Indians up in 000 a month, the passenger traffic $15,000 a leases. It is another conspiracy against the month, and it is all handled in a box car poor man. When the time comes for him to standing beside the track. Oil speculators drive into the new country, he will find all from all parts of the earth are there; grafters the land lease-covered. If he gets any of it he and boomers and sure-thing men from East will have to pay dearly. and West throng the one slant, raw street of In the Middle West there is little public the town of Keifer during the day, returning land left. Missouri has less than 90,000 at night to the comforts of Tulsa and the acres subject to homestead or cash purchase two-per-cent. alcohol beverages which an in- from the government, and the one-fourth of dulgent government allows to be sold within that suitable to cultivation is bound in by the territory of its wards. rugged hills, much of it 100 miles from a rail- The Creek Indians are fast becoming rich road. The Kansas public lands, what few from royalties, and many a simple-minded are left, are isolated, also, and well out to the white man, who scarcely realized the possi- extreme western corners of the state. Ar- bility of his action when he secured a lease kansas has plenty of land, much of it so un- on oil land, has become suddenly burdened even that a man can graze his flocks on both with the worry of much wealth. Frequently sides of it, they say down there, but it is far they are more harassed by the constant care from railroads, and does not meet the re- of their money than ever they were by the quirements of the colonist of to-day. load of poverty they have so suddenly cast for the home-seeker of these times is not off. One fellow was encountered in the seeking a refuge, merely. He wants a good mud-spattered street of Keifer with $18,000 many of the comforts of life, and a few of in currency bulging his pockets, which he the luxuries. He is a man of the minute; he · was afraid to trust to a bank. There is means business. Quick and reliable means of room in the Indian Territory—as it is still transportation are essential to his success; known in other parts of the United States; therefore, he would rather pay $20 or $40 an down there it is all Oklahoma—for a multi- acre for the right kind of land near a railroad tude of energetic agriculturists. Very soon, than to homestead it in the Ozarks of Missouri 659 660 Everybody's Magazine or Arkansas, or in the arid fastnesses of New and then the seed is sown. The Campbell Mexico or Arizona. There are more men method has produced fifty bushels of wheat among the colonists of the new Southwest to the acre in the Panhandle of Texas, and who go there with a thousand to twenty corn, oats, alfalfa, Kafir corn, and milo maize thousand dollars, than who attempt it with in like proportion. one hundred. This fact accounts for the Some of the far-sighted cattlemen, seeing tremendous growth of the Texas Panhandle, the result of these experiments and the in- Any time you want to, you can draw a con- evitable consequences, caused a break in the tinuous straight line 900 miles long in Texas. traditions of their caste by cutting up their It would be undignified to descend to such a ranches and offering them for sale. Immedi- scale of comparison as Rhode Island when ately the flood of immigration, which Okla- speaking of Texas. Six states as big as Iowa homa had ceased to absorb, broke over the could be cut out of Texas, and good measure Panhandle, and land values took an enormous given to each of them. There is more corn leap. The cattlemen sat back and chuckled. land in Texas than in Illinois, more wheat It was all right; let the suckers come. Selling land than in the Dakotas, while in the mat- land that cost them a dollar for from four to ter of fruit lands Texas has California sub- eight dollars would do; they could stand that merged and heaped over and buried out of indefinitely. They thought they were getting reckoning. even. The piece of Texas called the Panhandle Then along came another crowd of far- is the neck in the northwestern part of the sighted men, who snapped up the big ranches, state. It contains about 25,000 square miles, all they could buy, at the $4, $7, and $8 or nearly one-third the area of Kansas. It is prices. That was less than three years ago. a short-grass country, similar to west-central Many of them have sold out entirely at a mini- Kansas—where, within the memory of a not mum of $15 an acre, and much of the land very old man, it was said that corn and wheat brought $20. The stories they tell of land would never grow-and it has been a grazing- fortunes are staggering, but they have the land for a long time. It used to be a country banks and mansions, Japanese servants and of rangers, rascals, rattlesnakes, and remit automobiles, to prove them. tance men, and the biggest cattle-ranch on The X IT ranch in the Panhandle is the earth was there. biggest cattle-ranch in Texas; therefore, the The cattlemen liked the Panhandle—and biggest in the world. It is the property of they like it yet—although they used to sit and the New York Land and Cattle Company, spit in the hotel lobbies at Omaha and Kansas and comprises ten counties, as the letters City and curse its name. It took five acres signify-Ten In Texas; and this vast tract of there to maintain a steer, against two in land was given in payment by the state of Kansas, they said. It was a place of bitter Texas thirty years ago to the company which winds, prairie-dog holes, and no rain. Why built the magnificent state-house at Austin. any man that wasn't there wanted to go there, Texans, as well as a good many others, be- beat them! And that kind of talk went for lieved in those days that they had made a a good many years. The stockmen had the bargain. The cattle company grazed its farmers bluffed. But a man named Camp- herds over this land for many years, free of bell, of Colorado, with a little dab of whiskers taxes, and to-day it is being cut up and sold on his chin and a turmoil of new ideas in the in tracts varying from 1,000 to 5,000 acres. back of his head to balance them, got to fool. The land near railroads is bringing from $15 ing around in that nice level country with to $25 an acre. certain experiments. The LX ranch was another big one. Three This Campbell has a way of tilling semi- years ago it contained 1,200 unbroken sec- arid lands and getting amazing crops with- tions; to-day it is all sold in comparatively out irrigation. He makes no secret of the small tracts. A colony of German farmers method, which he calls “dry farming." from Missouri bought seventy sections of this Briefly, the plan is to work the top of the soil land. with disk plows and harrows until it is a bed Scores of smaller ranches have been sold of dust. This acts as a mulch, just as straw, out, and the range stock-grower, who de- but far more effectually, and prevents the pended on the open prairie to feed his herds rapid evaporation of the moisture from the all the year, is being speedily eliminated. soil. The rainfall is stored in this manner, The Panhandle is undergoing an adjustment; A CHOCTAW LAWYER AND CAPITALIST. L. C. Hill and his seven children, all famous hunters. THE BEGINNINGS OF A NEW HOME IN TEXAS. 661 662 Everybody's Magazine under the new order the old cattleman will he sets his hand to any other business. But a have no place there. The expert growers of day among the real-estate men, tearing here blooded beef cattle, from Iowa and Illinois, and there in quivering automobiles to look at are coming into his kingdom. Five years land, helps to familiarize one with this new and the Panhandle will see him no more. country. A man believes he may get big A great wheat country is coming on there. enough to grasp it in time. In a little while the Panhandle yield will fig. When twilight falls over the somber flat- ure in the world's output as prominently as ness of the Panhandle country, it is gray and that of Kansas. The people are streaming vast, with the awesome sweep of the sea. The thither; all that is required is a year to break wind comes treading over it out of the dim the sod and get it in shape for grain. southeast and steals into the stranger's heart Amarillo is the metropolis of the Panhandle. and works its charm. In the morning he Up there they pronounce it just as it is spelled wakes and wants to stay. It doesn't seem, in English, although it is a Spanish word and somehow, to require the stories of forty-nine pronounced, properly, Am-a-ree-o. But don't bushels of wheat to the acre, or of four cut- go calling it anything but Amarillo—or tings of alfalfa, a ton and a half to the cut- Amariller, if you pre- ting, to convince him. fer — up there. It's He seems to know at too far north. Down once that he has but in San Antonio they to strike the iron into know better, but in the heart of the land Amarillo they think and the fountain will you're trying to gush forth. strain the amenities. Anyway, the word It is a long leap means yellow, which from the Panhandle is not at all inappro- to the gulf coast priate for the town. country around Cor- Things are a bit yel- pus Christi and low in Amarillo, but Brownsville, and not the yellow of in- there is such a change sincerity. The tint in the face of nature might properly be that it is hard to con- charged to the intoxi- ceive how one state cation of rapid may be big enough to growth. They're the admit the diversity. same way in Okla- A FARMER'S HOME IN OKLAHOMA. From short-grass and homa, a little heady, alfalfa and grain, to a little rash about tilting the ash end of their sugar-cane, cassava, oranges, bananas, and cigars up toward their noses, a little frothy, the boring intensity of a tropical sun, is like but sincere. Five years ago nothing but a a change from Kansas to Florida. But Texas name; to-day a population of 14,000, and doesn't have to exert itself to give its people a rich agricultural country developing all climatic extremes. around it. That's Amarillo. Its hotels and Along the southwestern gulf coast of Texas, boarding houses are always full, swarming another lodging-place for northern immi- with home-seekers. If you want to make grants, a marvelous transformation is going sure of sleeping in Amarillo, make your reser- forward. This region is becoming the win- vation some days ahead. ter garden of the North and East, and an Home-seekers' excursions are usually timed industry, unique for Texas, is growing up so that they reach Amarillo in the early there with astonishing rapidity. There the morning, and the first sight of that flat coun- truck-gardener has, indeed, pushed the cattle- try, with the sky pressing down against it man out of sight. Not much remains of him sharply and evenly on every side, is over- now, save the names of his ranches, which are whelming. It is something like coming sud- being parceled out at an average of $25 an denly, for the first time, to the brink of a acre to energetic incomers from the North. tremendous cañon and looking down. A man T he southwestern gulf coast was once be- feels that he needs some time to grow before lieved to be as unarable as the Panhandle, THE SINEWS OF OKLAHOMA. "Boomers" at Lawton, waiting to join in the rush for land. owing to a stinted rainfall. It was a grazing- country, some of the big ranches of Texas being located there, among them the King ranch, through which it was possible to ride forty miles in a straight line. The herbage was indifferent, from seven to ten acres being re- quired to maintain a steer. Land was cheap, almost too cheap to bother about owning at all, and things went along at a picturesquely indifferent pace until somebody tried irrigat- ing a little patch of ground. The awakening was violent and sudden. UT TIT ST. LOL IS A ANCISCO 19467 THREE SPECIAL COTTON TRAINS COME TO OKLAHOMA CITY EACH DAY DURING THE RUSH SEASON. 663 664 Everybody's Magazine Three years ago a bit of a railroad, with a name almost as long as its main line—the St. Louis, Brownsville & Mexico, it is called was finished between Brownsville and Corpus Christi, being the first section of the road that now reaches Houston. At that time there were five houses in which white people lived on the 150 miles of road between Brownsville and Corpus Christi. Now there are above 20,000 heads of families, landhold ers, living in the same area, tilling the pro- ductive soil. Of these, 16,000 settled within the past twenty months. Some of the ranchers, convenient to water transportation, had been growing sugar-cane a long time before the railroad came, and now sugar-making appears to be one of the des. tined large industries of this prolific state. The lower valley of the Rio Grande, for a distance of 100 miles inland from the gulf, is said by sugar-cane experts to be the most favorable spot in the United States for the cultivation of that plant. Owing to its ex- treme southern latitude, 400 miles south of the Louisiana cane-fields, the crop may de- velop fully without danger of frost. Planters in the lower Rio Grande valley give their cane a full twelve months to mature, against eight or ten in Louisiana, where frost is always a menace later than October. The combined richness of the Texas soil, un- equaled even in Cuba, and favorable climatic conditions, place the yield of this region above that of Hawaii. A planting of cane-"joints" will yield in Texas profitably for eight years, against three years, at the extreme, in other cane-growing sections of the United States. Texas has great plans for coming into the sugar-market of the United States, and com- ing in strong. Great plantation companies are being organized, and the most extensive irrigation works on this continent are under process of construction in the Rio Grande valley. Refineries are springing up there, and the companies building them are offering every inducement and assistance to industri- ous men of small means to come in and begin producing cane. The poor man's chance lies down there to-day on the Texas frontier. Another big business in the Rio Grande valley is that of growing Bermuda onions. It is a recent industry there, but Texas holds the market for Bermuda onions in her hand to-day, so far as the United States is con- cerned. The planters who are engaged in this business are organized under the name of the Western Texas Truck Growers' Associa- tion, and they pay an exclusive agent in San Antorio a salary of $10,000 a year to market their product. One grower at Laredo made from this year's crop of twenty-one acres, $350 an acre, net. Others in the onion belt realized as much as $400 an acre, net, and this from land which some of them bought five years ago for a dollar and a half an acre. T ruck-gardeners in the vicinity of Kings- ville, Mercedes, and Corpus Christi have done as well with cabbage, tomatoes, cucum- bers, and other green stuff, which they ship North and East during the winter months. The evidences of Nature's prodigality are stunning to the home-seeker who goes wading through fields of green vegetables in January. It is a land of such palpable richness that the newcomer is undecided upon one particular only—that is, where he shall stoop and begin filling his sack. The long-headed Iowa and Illinois farmers who visit this peculiarly fa- vored region almost invariably invest in land. Ground at $30 and $40 an acre, which will give a yearly return of not less than $100 per acre, net, looks good to them. All the southwestern gulf coast country of Texas must be irrigated in order to make it productive. Water underlies it in a broad river, which is reached at depths varying from 500 to 1,200 feet. This underground river has its source far enough north to cause all the artesian wells which tap it to flow. The water comes forth from the deepest wells quite warm, and must be cooled for drinking. Two years more will find this portion of Texas a thickly populated, wealthy district, with land values more nearly based on the productiveness of the soil than at present. Greater progress is being made there than in Oklahoma, owing to the fact that the land buyers are generally well supplied with money at the beginning. They are for the most part the sellers of high-priced land in the North, and they are not obliged to await returns from their new possessions to improve them. Like the West, and extreme Southwest, this country long hid its generous heart under a grim and forbidding exterior, concealing its riches until the time when man should need them most. Just a little while and the journey from sea to sea will be one unbroken picture of culti- vated lands. Even now almost every moun- tain glade has its tenant, almost every moun- tain stream pours out its waters upon some green spot where the far-blowing seed of a crowding, restless race has lodged. The Alchemists By KATHARINE HOLLAND BROWN Illustrations by E. M. Ashe THE last flurry of guests stepped from the | broad Georgian portico, and trailed rainbow draperies across the shallow marble steps and through the silence of the deep gar- den to the wide rose-screened terrace that overlooked the sea. The two groups already assembled, standing in admirably careless differentiation, casually aloof, viewed their coming with a fleeting glance, then turned their faces again toward the great house, silent, intent. The bishop fidgeted with his prayer-book, and balanced first on one stout gaitered leg, then on the other, petulantly conscious of the moist rheumatic turf. The bride's mother, serene as an ivory goddess, drew a shade closer to her husband and looked up, smiling faintly, into his dry, im- passive face; the little gesture had the effect of a flawlessly executed bit of classic panto- mime. A swift breeze tossed the wreathed white orchids on the impromptu altar, then faltered and fell silent, as if the day itself drew a quick, hurrying breath of anticipation. For it was now close upon the Hour. Ranked as they were, in these two groups, so sharply defined and so inimical, yet seem ingly so chance in their division, the wedding guests were as two grim, powerful phalanxes, met on the common ground of a deep mutual demand, yet armed and watchful, even in the face of their neutrality: Dutifully their faces had put on the holiday ease, the bridal cheer, like smiling masks. But here and there a mask had slipped awry, and the face of truth revealed itself: alert, fear-stricken, infuriate, exultant. T he bridegroom's clan stood massed against a tall rose hedge, flaunting, hostile, forlornly ill at ease. His elder sister, a splendid overblown beauty, arrayed as for a Court presentation, towered to the fore. Her regal head flung high; her shrewish crimson lips pouted, arrogant. With slow, dark, insolent gaze she stared disdainfully past the group across the lawn, up the broad flower- strewn path down which the bride's pageant must come. At her elbow shuffled her hus- band, pasty-cheeked, fretful, slinking. His dull eyes, set deep in puffy hollows, blinked peevishly; the crown of his pink bald head barely grazed his wife's imperial shoulder. With his loose, podgy body, his aimless hands, his greedy mouth of a fish, he seemed a ludicrous blood-brother to the fat, spoiled English pug which, escaping the servants' vigilance, now sniffed at his heels. One was irresistibly tempted to throw the two a bone, and watch them snatch. The bridegroom's father, suffocating but defiant, in unwonted pomp of Prince Albert 665 666 Everybody's Magazine and circumstance of rigid linen, clenched his gracious ease around the flower-wreathed broad mottled fists, and stared into vacancy sapphire of the fountain, loitered the bride's with straining, cruel eyes. The bridegroom's people, stately, debonair, bland. Her mother mother cowered behind her daughter, a scared stood in lily silence, one slim hand resting little shadow against the younger woman's upon her husband's arm. In her far youth sumptuous bulk. She stared toward the she had been a woman nobly planned for westering sun with blank, belligerent eyes; sweetness and for honor. But with her her stubbed little hands, betraying for all her sweetness was interwoven the dull indolence care the pitiful toil-scars of her youth, picked of thought, the calm indifference to every and fluttered among her stranded pearls. duty, that tarnished all her race. With Utter terror, the blind, craven fear of her gentle, vacillating hands, she still clung to the caste, the dread of the stabs They could give, outworn illusions of her girlhood; and in her those cool, proud, pitiless Others, pulsed in wilful blindness she could not see how tat- her heaving breast. Yet she stiffened her tered they had become. Fair, listless, charm- twitching mouth, and wryly smiled. ... ing, shallow as the fountain-basin at her feet, Her husband never glanced her way. He she stood among her guests, and waited for stood as at the head of his forces, chest erect, the bridal of her child. harsh mouth unblenching, the very mark and The bride's father held his pose with pattern of grim, merciless triumph. To-day immovable self-control. Now and then faint his was a world of triumph. This supreme, amusement glinted across his mouth. As this transcendent marriage for his boy, his he stood facing the blossomy wedding altar, only son, his darling, was the last tourney, his flat cold eyes half shut, his narrow tem- the final field. After all his years of struggle, ples drawn in languid scrutiny, he gave the of heaped defeat, of slow, heart-sickening toil, impression of a man so atrophied by some in- the conquest now lay in his hand. And all exorable inward force that scarcely a vital the fruits of conquest were for the boy, the pulse remained. That ruling egotism which boy alone. For himself—it did not matter. was the key to his nature, whose imprint was Whether the locked gates of the World- stamped on every line of his face, had Rulers should ever open to him, was of small crushed out every finer sense. Like the account. For now his mighty wealth, flung mystics of the Orient, he went self-slain. like a battering-ram against the weakened Among all the men and women gathered fortifications of this loftier household, had to-day around him, he counted not one friend; forced those gates for his son; and the splen- for he bargained with life empty-handed of dor of this master-stroke outweighed twice even the smallest coin of patience or regard. over all that it had cost. Even this man opposite, his opponent, so soon True, the price had been heavy; a sum to be hatefully tied to him by the indissoluble made up of laden days and endless slaving bond of their two children, he had humiliated nights, of hurtling combats, ruthless hand and affronted, day after day, year upon year. to throat, of lies and theft and inmeshed Until at last—and again that baffling laughter treachery. However, the sum was paid. slackened his thin gray mouth-until had Across from him, gray, exquisite, assured, come the incredible turn of the wheel, which stood the man who had crouched to snatch had lifted this bustling vulgarian, this new- that price, to save his own worthless name. comer, to the farthest heights, and had And in return this man had yielded this thrown him, heir of stately centuries, dazed daughter, the girl-bride, who, with the magic and helpless at the feet of this ignoble of her beauty and her lineage, was to make master. ... all ways smooth for this, his son. He slid his tongue stealthily along his ... For the moment, he forgot his rôle parched lips. If it had not been for this of the complacent parent: he passed a waver- miscreant's son, and his instant wild infatua- ing hand across his forehead, wet as with the tion for Edith, he would now stand' face to sweat of his long fight. Conqueror though he face with ruin. And worse than ruin. was, the chill of the failure that might have Shame-ostracism-judgment- been, caught at his halting breath. Coward However, the fool's determination to ad- to his blustering throat, he shrank and vance his son had bought rescue. He trembled before the face of this victory that could felicitate himself upon his own wise he had spent his soul to win. handling of the affair. Clutching at the Across the sweep of turf, clustered at straw of chance, he had invited his enemy and THE WEDDING GUESTS WERE AS TWO GRIM, POWERFUL PHALANXES. 667 The Alchemists 669 head. Slowly, in the gold silence of the failing tightened on her hand; but his dark gaze day, the ancient, noble ordinance began. turned steadfastly to the east, where, side by side, the two great stars flamed ever “No, we don't really need any more con- deeper, twin beacons against the thickening fetti, thank you. There's a gallon down my night. neck, as it is. And we're not going to take “Thatcher Island lights,” breathed the Peters along to run the car, either. Jimmy girl. Her sweet face grew wistful; for a and I are going to Beech Hill all alone, just breath she leaned her cheek against his arm. we two." The bride pushed her rumpled “Jimmy, dear! Won't you just always love floss of curls from her eyes, freed herself from them! Do you remember?” the distracted embrace of half a dozen brides- “Remember? Remember what?” drawled maids, and swung into the driver's seat. the boy maddeningly. He ducked her in- “No, we'll be all right on our wedding-trip stant infuriate blow with lightning skill, then just by ourselves. Truly!” wheeled with the same movement to silence “But Jimmy won't watch his steering-gear her tempest of reproach with masterful kisses. with you along!” “And he'll scorch! He “Jimmy, you little beast! To think you'd always does!” “And he'll spill things, or even dare pretend that you'd forgotten—that break things, or else run over somebody.” you could forget!” She pushed him away, “Oh, Jimmy, do be careful!” and plucked at the crushed folds of her veil, "Jimmy will be careful,” vowed the bride- with airy preening. But again her eyes grew groom, leaping up beside her, with a little grave; her rosy laughter dimmed. laugh of sheer delight. His serious sun “Do you know, Jimmy, ridiculous as it browned face was flushed and afire; his black sounds, Í-I almost wish we were going there eyes overflowed with rapturous sparkles. now? Just we two together-and the sea, “No scorching, no breakdowns, no murders, and the wind, and the stars! It would be no nothing. Good-by, everybody! And almost as wonderful as it was—Then. That a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New other day.” Year!” “Would it?" pondered the boy, under his He dodged the heavy rose-sheaf aimed at breath. He slackened the car to a creeping his head by an excited bridesmaid, and flung pace. Then he turned to her, gravely up his free arm to shield Edith from the fare- smiling. well storm of blossoms and confetti. As “Do you honestly think you'd like it, over though borne on viewless mighty wings, the there, Edith? Wouldn't it be lonesome, and great car leaped beneath his hand. Down cold, and scary, after a while?. You know through the last sunset afterglow it sped, there's not a soul on the whole island but the across the spray-drenched lawns, then lighthouse-keeper; and that little fishing- plunged deep into the folding shadows of the shack of mine is all of a mile from the lights, twilight woods. at that. And it's a regular tepee; no furniture, “This isn't so bad,” he ventured, after a no telephone, no wall-paper-- while. “Oh, Jimmy, you stupid, that wouldn't The car had dropped to a long rocking matter. But— Oh, Beech Hill will be glori- swing, easeful as the liſt of an anchored boat ous, I know, Jimmy. And your father was a upon the summer tides. The narrow white darling, to fit it all up for us, and give it to us road gleamed like a ribbon of silver between for our very own. And we'll just adore it, far darkening fields. The late sea-fog every minute, that I know.' And it'll be drifted, gray trailing smoke, before their faces, grand and splendid, and we'll feel like people cold and sweet, and soft as down. Away to in some wonderful play. But I couldn't help the east, two vast white stars pricked move thinking what fun it would be if we could run less flame against the dusky amethyst of ocean away from all of it, Beech Hill and everybody, and sky. and just stay by ourselves, all alone there- “No, this isn't so bad,” assented the girl. just we two!” She freed one strong brown hand from its “Honest, Edith?” The car had stopped glove, and slid it dexterously beneath his own now. The boy faced her, eyes aglow, brown upon the wheel. “You were a dear, Jimmy, cheeks deep crimsoned in the waning light. to insist on our leaving Peters behind. It's “Honest true, Jimmy, dear. And yet- loads more fun, just ourselves.” Why, Jimmy, what are you speeding so for? The boy did not reply. His fingers You'll break- Why, how did we happen to THE MOMENTS SLIPPED LIKE JEWELS THROUGH THEIR CLASPING HANDS. ever be, their House of Love, the place where gesture. The man looked down at her; the they had found their white-starred Eden. color dropped swiftly from his face, leaving it Mercifully holden by their own innocence, very white beneath the tan. He pulled her their eyes beheld in it no shadow and no closer to him. His boyish face grew suddenly flaw. Neither harsh greed, nor cruel reckon- older, graver, purer; upon it flowed a light ing, nor slow web of low-flung trickery, could that made it almost sublime. The girl looked they see. The golden aura of their love il- up unknowing, a little awed; then the wonder lumined all those smirched lives to the in her gaze changed to secure content. unstained radiant seeming of their own. Its Silently, like two children, they kissed and heavenly alchemy transmuted even the dark- clung, rapt in the glory of the new day open- ness behind them to fair light. ing before them, blind to the shadow-world The girl leaned to him, with a little clinging that lay behind. 671 A Damsel in Distress By ELEANOR HOYT BRAINERD Author of "The Misdemeanors of Nancy," "Bettina," etc. Illustrations by Maginol Wright Enright L'UPHROSYNE leaned back in the crotch administer justice, but to secure quiet. Since C of the old apple-tree that was her the youngest of his offspring was the only one chosen refuge in time of trouble and gave her- who dared to disturb his peace, it was vitally self up to the luxury of brooding over her woe. important that she should be suppressed; and Being so deplorably miserable was the next the quickest and most effectual way of sup- best thing to being very happy; but the child pressing her was to give her what she wanted. was too young to know that. It is only late Hence, Euphrosyne's tears. One by one, her in life that one quotes, “Ah, les beaux jours most cherished possessions had been handed quand j'étais si malheureuse." over to the obstreperous baby, at her father's About one thing Euphrosyne was quite stern command. To-day, even the beloved positive. She must not hate her little sister. doll, with real hair, and eyes that would open That would be wicked, and the blood of a and shut, had been surrendered; and the for- long line of Puritan ancestors ran in this small lorn little mortal in the apple-tree felt that she woman's veins. Moreover, if she should hate had plumbed the uttermost depths of grief. Maia, it would be just like the horrid little A big apple, sun-warmed to rosiness, hung thing to get crippled, or die, or something, and just within reach of the Woeful One's hand. then it would be awful to have hated her. She picked it and sank her teeth in it ap- The ground was familiar. Euphrosyne had preciatively before she remembered that she been over it often; for that four-year-old sister, was too unhappy to find consolation in apples. though lovable in the rare intervals when she It is hard for even grown-ups to be consistently was good, was very, very horrid when she tragic; and childhood is a buoyant age. After was bad, and she was bad most of the time. all, Euphrosyne argued, she might as well eat Whatever her older sister held dearest, that the apple. Of course it wouldn't taste very the baby invariably set her heart upon hav- good and she was just as miserable as ever; ing, and she always got what she wanted; for but there was no use in wasting a perfectly she had a system, a system solidly founded good apple. Perhaps it would make her sick to upon precocious observation of cause and eat it when she was so sad, and, if she should Cifect. be sick, perhaps she would die. It was an The one fundamental law of the Converse attractive idea, and she fell to composing household was that the scholarly father who death-bed utterances, deeply religious but shut himself in his library day after day, and calculated to make Maia and Janet and her whom his motherless bairns encountered only father writhe in the pangs of remorse. at the dining-table, must not be disturbed. "FROZZIE!” Janet, the old nurse, housekeeper, general The call came clearly to her ears, across the factotum, went on tiptoe past the library neighboring hedge, and her sullen little heart door. Euphrosyne hushed her voice to give an extra throb of resentment. Her name whispers in the hall. Maia's method was was one of her heaviest crosses. It is an different, quite different. Whenever any one awful thing to have a father steeped in Greek crossed her or withheld what she wanted, she sentiment and without consideration for the sat herself down on the hall floor, before the feelings of posterity. Maia was bad enough; study door, and howled lustily. The ex- but everybody called the baby May; and that pected promptly happened. The closed door was really rather nice--not stylish like Gladys was sure to swing open abruptly and reveal a or Dorothy but a sensible, pretty sort of name. coldly irate father whose one desire was, not to Euphrosyne had always felt that, if her father 672 A Damsel in Distress . 673 it. was determined to make her Greek, he might A voice from the rectory called Rhoda, and have chosen a name capable of being short- she ran away down the garden path; but ened and sweetened for every-day use. turned to shout farewell and encourage- What could one do with “Euphrosyne" save ment. shorten it to “Frozzie?” Such a horrid, un “I wouldn't wonder a bit if Gladys asked tidy sort of a nickname! Its owner loathed you. She isn't a particle stuck up and she told me Friday that she thought you were real "FROZZIE!” sweet, even if you did look kind of queer.” Euphrosyne looked across the hedge into Euphrosyne accepted the sting in the tail Dr. Wilson's garden, where her chosen friend of the compliment cheerfully for the sake of of friends, Rhoda Wilson, stood among the the phrase that went before. That Gladys asters, her upturned face brimming with Marbury should notice her at all was much. excitement. That she should call her “real sweet” was “Have you heard about the party?" Rhoda good beyond belief. Rhoda must have mis- asked in her high treble. Euphrosyne felt a understood—but if she hadn't-if Gladys had sudden surge of returning interest in life. said just that- The little girl in the ugly “No; where?” she answered, leaning down pinafore leaned her cropped head back from her perch, at hazard of life and limb. against a convenient pillow of rough bark “At Gladys Marbury's. It's going to be and gave herself up to rose-hued dreams. If grand. They're going to have ice-cream and Gladys had said “real sweet," why perhaps- things from Boston, and a real band to dance The wind swayed the arms of the old tree and to, and all sorts of surprises, and a young lady the dreamer, cradled in them, spun wonderful who just manages hopes and visions, children's parties is until, from far away, coming to run every- sounded the tinkle thing." of a tea-bell, which “How d' you sent her scurrying know?" houseward. “The Marbury's As she trudged to cook told our El- school the next len." morning, the golden “Hasn't anybody glamour of possi- got invitations yet?” bility faded from “Oh, no; the both hopes and vi- party isn't till a week sions. Of course from Saturday.” Gladys wouldn't ask For a moment her. Why should Euphrosyne looked she? She was a won- relieved. Then she derful creature, that sighed-a sigh that Gladys. Euphrosyne made her checked had adored her ever pinafore heave since the first day stormily. she drove up to the “Well, I won't be school in an amaz- invited.” ingly smart little Rhoda inclined to cart, handed the optimism. reins to a groom in “Oh, I guess livery, and a n- Gladys will invite nounced to Miss you,” she said en- Curtis, the teacher, couragingly; but Euphrosyne shook going to stay at the her head. Oaks until Christ- “No, she won't. It's different about you, mas and that she was to attend school while because your father's the Episcopal rector they were there. and you have lovely hair ribbons and every- It was Gladys herself, not the pony and thing; but I couldn't expect her to invite me.” cart nor the groom, that had moved Euphro- MAGINCLWRIGHT-CNRICHT MAIA'S METHOD WAS DIFFERENT. 674 Everybody's Magazine syne to passionate admiration. Here was the little girl of her dreams, the little girl who was all that Frozzie had longed to be. Gladys was slender, fair, graceful, golden-hạired, beautifully dressed. Her thick blonde hair curled softly and was tied with wide, lustrous ribbons, her stockings were fine and showed no darns at the knees, her shoes were beauti- ful, her finger-nails were rosy and shiny and immaculately clean, her lips, when she smiled -and she did it very often-parted to show two rows of pearly white teeth, and her manners—well, her manners outsoared praise. Small wonder that the beauty-loving little grub in the ugly school frock-chosen from a remnant counter by Janet for wearing qualities rather than esthetic merit, and made up by that same dour Janet with a view to economy of labor-fell down before this Fairy Princess and worshiped her. There were other worshipers, and most of them were more self-confident and aggressive than Euphrosyne. They made the Beautiful Being from the Oaks the center of a clique; and, though Gladys herself was prone to smile impartially on all her schoolmates, her court circle drew hard and fast lines between the elect and the unworthy. Euphrosyne was among the unworthy. To be sure, Rhoda and other good friends were within the lines; but children are shocking little snobs, and even these friends, while recog- nizing Frozzie's merits, admitted that her clothes put her beyond the pale of the Gladys cult. Euphrosyne had accepted the verdict with out a murmur, and she realized now, as she hurried toward the little white schoolhouse, that she had been silly even to dream that the Fairy Princess might step down from her throne and hold out a gracious hand to the least of her subjects. She stopped behind the big elm tree to pull off the brown wristlets which Janet insisted upon her wearing to school for the purpose of saving her frock sleeves from wear and soil. How she hated those wristlets! They were the sign and symbol of all that shut her out from court circles, and the strength of her feeling about them had led her to the unusual length of deceit and disobedience. Wear them before Gladys? Never. Better to perish under punishment here and hereafter. She tucked the offending wristlets into her pocket and joined a group in the school yard. Every- body was talking about the party. Rumor of it had spread like wild-fire, and invitation possibilities were being discussed in hushed voices by eligibles and non-eligibles. The Fairy Princess drove up in her red- wheeled cart, and a number of the insolently sure ran forward to greet her effusively. Euphrosyne looked at the adored one from afar and made no sign; but her wistful little face grew more wistful, and her kissable little mouth drooped mournfully at the corners. Rhoda Wilson came running along the road from the rectory and joined the group of courtiers. Then, suddenly, the Princess said something. Euphrosyne could not hear what it was, but the attendant satellites melted away and Gladys and Rhoda stood alone, talking earnestly together. A moment later, both looked searchingly around the play- ground, and, locking arms, strolled across the yard to where a small girl sat digging her heels into the ground and staring gloomily at the holes they made. Her mind was con- centrated upon the advantages of having a clerical rather than a scholarly father. Of course Rhoda was a dear; but if her father hadn't happened to he a rector—and just there Rhoda's voice spoke her name, and, looking up, she saw the rector's daughter and the Fairy Princess standing before her. Her eyes widened to the point of caricature, her voice stuck in her throat; but Rhoda was smiling happily and the Princess was smiling, too, in the friendliest fashion. “Some way or other, I haven't got very well acquainted with you,” she was saying, half frankly, half shyly. “I thought you didn't like me, but Rhoda says it's just a way you have with strangers. I wanted to ask if you'd come to my party. Mamma is going to send invitations; but I thought I'd like to invite you specially, because I was afraid you wouldn't come unless I got you to promise." Didn't like her! Wouldn't accept an in- vitation to her party! Euphrosyne's brain reeled; but her big eyes were smiling radiant- ly and her mouth had lost its mournfulness in a riot of dimples. “I'd just love to go," she said eagerly, "and it's sweet of you to ask me.” The school - bell rang and-marvel of marvels!—the Princess slipped a friendly arm around the waist of the despised plaid frock, and Euphrosyne found herself walking into the schoolhouse with royalty, while her world turned topsy-turvy and playmates who had snubbed her looked on with undisguised envy. Just how she got through that school day she hardly knew; but, when school was dis- . AGINEL WRIGHT ENRIGHT SHE SAW THE RECTOR'S DAUGHTER AND THE FAIRY PRINCESS STANDING BEFORE HER. missed, she shot homeward like an arrow factory. There's no reason why you shouldn't from a bow. She must know her fate at once. go to her party, if you choose to forget that Surely Janet and father couldn't be cruel her family came up from nothing. I'll ask enough to say “No.” your father for you to-night.” In the front hall she dashed full into Janet Just here Maia created a diversion. with Maia at her heels. "I ’ants to doh pahty!” she announced “Save us!” gasped the woman, when she vociferously. “'Ants to doh pahty!” had regained her breath. “What's happened Euphrosyne's happy face fell. She had a that you come into the house like a wild swift premonition of impending woe. “Stop Indian?” that,” commanded Janet in ferocious but Euphrosyne's cheeks were red, her eyes muttered tones. Maia's “tantrums” were a sparkling. She did not waste time upon sore trial to her, and her disciplinarian soul apologies for, assault and battery. rebelled against the accepted method of deal- “Oh, Janet! Gladys Marbury is going to ing with them, but even she stood too much have a party, with a band and ice-cream and in awe of the cold-eyed, thin-lipped scholar to things from Boston, and she's asked me—and argue with him. she wants me to be a special friend of hers- “Stop that, you young screech-owl," she and, oh, Janet, you do think father'll let me repeated, stooping to pick up the screaming go, don't you?" child and carry her away; but at that moment The Scotch woman's grim face softened a the study door opened and Mr. Converse little. She loved these wee lassies whose stood surveying the scene. young mother, dying, had left them in her “Janet, who has upset that child?" care; and, if her régime was harsh, it was so “She's upset herself, sir, and I do say—” from conviction, not from cruelty. began the woman, taking her courage in “And why shouldn't she want you for a both hands—but Mr. Converse cut her special friend? Your grandfather was college short. president when hers was skimming soap in a “What is she crying about?” 675 676 Everybody's Magazine “Well, sir, Miss Euphrosyne's invited to a “What's the matter, little woman?” he party and the baby wants to go, too, and-" said gently to the checked gingham back. "Ridiculous!” The word came with a snap Euphrosyne sat up suddenly, disclosing a and warmed the cockles of Euphrosyne's tear-stained babyish face and tragic wet eyes. heart; but she had misunderstood. She had not heard him coming, and astonish- “Ridiculous that I should be interrupted in ment checked the fount of her tears. my work by such trivial matters. Maia will “Nothing,” she asserted mendaciously, in a be ill if she is allowed to cry like that, and you small, wobbly voice. know nothing disturbs me like illness in the The man smiled down at her, but the smile house. Euphrosyne will take her sister to the was one of sympathy, not of amusement. party, of course.” That smile had won him many things from “But, father, it's a very special party and women of all ages, and it worked its spell she isn't invited and upon the heart-broken little woman at his “That's a matter of no consequence among feet. children. You heard what I said. You will “It's about the p-p-p-arty,” she said, with take your sister or you will stay at home your- a catch in her voice. He sat down on the self--and don't allow another scene of this ferns beside her; and, some way or other- kind to occur outside my door.” she scarcely knew how she found her cheek He was gone, and Euphrosyne was staring resting against a rough but comforting coat at a closed door-a door behind which not lapel and an arm holding her cozily in a crook only her father, but a radiant vision of tran- made for that purpose. scendent joy had vanished. Janet laid a not “Now tell me all about it,” the man said, ungentle hand in sympathy upon one of the with such an air of being used to cuddling her small heaving shoulders, but the child shook and hearing about her troubles that it seemed it off and ran out of the house, valiantly chok- quite natural to tell him and she did. ing down the sobs that rose in her throat. She It was a long story. She had to tell him couldn't cry before any one and she must cry. about Gladys, and there was so much to say The orchard was not remote enough for a about Gladys; and then she had to make him grief like this. She ran past her favorite understand about father. It seemed hard for apple-tree without giving it a look, burrowed him to understand about father and, when he through an opening in the hedge, crossed the did, he muttered something between his teeth, road, climbed a fence, tearing a yard or two but she couldn't hear what it was. At last, from her skirt in transit, and plunged deep however, he knew the whole dreadful truth, into the shadowy woods beyond. She was and Euphrosyne felt amazingly relieved by trespassing; but the owner of Waldhurst was the telling. never at home and all her life she had tres- The man gave her a gentle little hug of passed here, unchidden. On she stumbled sympathy and whistled softly for a moment until the road was left far behind and the or two. woods grew hushed and mysterious. When “No chance of your father's changing his she came to a little brook, gurgling over mind?” he asked abruptly. Euphrosyne gnarled tree-roots and mossy stones, she threw shook her head. herself, face downward, among the thick ferns “Nor of the baby's changing hers?" along its bank and let the smothered sobs “No; she never stops till she gets things. have their way. She was a quiet child and Course I can't take her. Gladys didn't invite even her crying was not noisy; but all the her. I'd rather die than take her when she lavish misery of childish grief was in the isn't invited. There aren't going to be such choking sobs; and a young man, sauntering little girls there. I-I'll just have to stay among the trees, stopped to listen to the alien home--and nobody will ever invite me again, sound mingling with the brook's low chuckle. and Gladys will be mad; and I've never been As he listened, his surprise melted into sym- to a real party.” She hid her face against the pathy. A child somewhere and in trouble! tweed-clad shoulder and cried again, while Dudley Martin loved children in an incon- the man patted her back encouragingly. sequent, bachelor fashion, and he hated un “Couldn't she be bribed?” , happiness wherever he found it. Stepping “Bribed?” Euphrosyne stopped crying and across the little stream, he followed the sounds turned a questioning face toward him. of woe, until he came upon the small girl “Yes; couldn't we give her something she'd among the ferns. rather have than the party?” 678 Everybody's Magazine "I don't know of anything. She's got all “Never you mind. I'm a wizard at rescu- my things, anyway, and ing damsels in distress." “But she hasn't got all my things. Not by She caught at the phrase. a long sight. When is this party?” “Like Sir Lancelot?" “Next Saturday.” “Well, more or less like Sir Lancelot.” “Oh, we have lots of time! What's your “Are you a knight?” name, little one?” “Fair Lady, I am.” “Euphrosyne." She would have hated “Knights don't wear clothes like those.” him if he had laughed, but he didn't. “They do nowadays. Where did you find “Why, she was the goddess of joy, wasn't out so much about knights?" she?” he asked quite seriously. “It won't do “Father left a book in the sitting-room once. at all for you to cry. What's your father's It was spelled perfectly crazy; but it made name?" sense after you got used to it-and it was “Richard Ordway Converse." lovely—all about King Arthur and beautiful “Oh, he's the Greek shark, isn't he?" ladies and fairies and fighting and Sir Lance- Euphrosyne didn't altogether understand; lot and lots of things. And then, just as I but she knew and hated the word Greek, so was in the very best part, father came along she nodded. and took the book away. It's in the study Once more the young man lapsed into now and I'm not allowed in the study.” silence, but finally he laughed. She told it all quite cheerfully; but once "It will jar Dixon," he said to himself, more the man said something bad-tempered “but I guess it will do the trick.” Then under his breath. he patted the round little head on his shoul “Well, I'm your knight,” he added, spring- der. ing to his feet. “Sir Dudley of Waldhurst, “Cheer up. I have a scheme. Has that at your service. A gage, Lady! A gage!" baby ever been to Boston?” She looked up at him with puzzled eyes. Euphrosyne, great eyed and wondering, “A knight must wear his lady's favor," he shook her head. explained; and, “Has she ever stooping, he tore ridden in a big off a tiny shred motor car?" from the pinafore “No, sir." hem with which The wonder was the fence had growing, buthope worked such was springing in havoc. Smiling its wake. down at her, he “You would drew the little rather go to the piece of checked party than do gingham through anything else?" his buttonhole "Oh, yes, sir.” and fastened it “Well, you are there. going. Now don't "Run home, bother that little lady mine, and head another trust me. The minute. It's all baby won't want settled. That to go to your baby is going to party.” scorn your party. She sped swift- She wouldn't go ly away through with you at any LADY! A GAGE!" the woods. Once price.” she stopped to The small girl's face was breaking out in look back. He was standing where she had smiles, but her eyes were still incredulous. left him and he waved a friendly hand. “You can't.” For several days nothing unusual happened “I can.” in Euphrosyne's little world; but the child “How?" went breathlessly, waiting for a sign and “WELL, I'M YOUR KNIGHT," HE ADDED. "A GAGE, A Damsel in Distress 679 dwelling 'twixt hope and fear. Then, late one sanctorum, an honor seldom accorded to afternoon, as she and Maia were making acorn guests, while out in the hall a small, excited dolls on the front stoop, a gorgeous, big red girl watched the study door. . motor car swooped down the street and A half hour later Mr. Martin went down brought up suddenly before their gate. Maia the path to his car, accompanied by his host, dropped her acorns and scrambled to her feet, who was talking earnestly, and who shook half frightened by the apparition; but hands with the departing guest in a fashion Euphrosyne sat still, a vivid color creeping almost cordial. into her cheeks. Her knight had kept faith A t the tea-table that night Mr. Converse with her. He was coming up the walk. spoke to Janet about the caller of the after- What, oh what, was he going to do? She noon. was prepared for anything, but her heart “Young Mr. Martin was here to-day, beat fast as she screwed up her Janet. Yes, Mr. Martin who toes inside her shoes to steady owns Waldhurst. He hasn't been her courage. And, after all, noth- here before in years — traveling ing startling happened. Sir Dud- most of the time, I gather. He is ley hardly looked at her; but he just back now from a year in the stopped where Maia stood poised Orient with a friend — a young chubbily 'twixt retaining curiosity Professor Dixon of Harvard. The and impelling fear, and he smiled professor had come across some at the baby—the smile that had early Greek manuscript about won Euphrosyne's confidence in which he was in doubt, and know- the woods. ing me by reputation, Mr. Martin "How do you do, baby?” he took the liberty of asking me to said, very politely; and then, drop- clear up the matter. A very ping into a confidential tone, he agreeable young man, very agree- added: “Could you tell me of any able, indeed. I wish he might one who would eat some choco- settle down in Waldhurst. It is late creams I happen to have in refreshing to find in a young man my pocket?” of this generation a proper rever- Maia promptly abandoned all ence for a superior intellect. He idea of flight. MAINEL WRIGHT CARIANT has left the manuscripts with me “Ess!” she said condescend- "I KNOW TOMEBODY ... and will come back for them Fri- ingly. “I tould eat 'em.” The TANDY!" day afternoon. Please remind me man looked surprised, but pleased. of that fact on Friday morning.” “Could you really? Now that is lucky. “Yes, sir,” said Janet. Wasn't it fortunate I thought of asking you Euphrosyne listened, steeped in guilt but about it?" happy. She didn't understand, but she had He brought out a bag from one of the faith. Maia listened, too, and made a mental pockets of his big motor coat and handed it note to the effect that Friday was chocolate- to Maia, who put two chocolates into her cream day. mouth at once and momentarily lost the Immediately after dinner on Friday, the power of speech. two children settled themselves upon the "Is Mr. Converse at home?” asked the front stoop of the Converse house; but it was visitor. not until four o'clock that, with a whir, a roar, Euphrosyne sprang to her feet. and a dying groan, a motor car stopped at the “Yes, sir. I'll ask if he can see you." gate, and Sir Dudley, dispenser of chocolates, "Thank you—if you will kindly give him Greek manuscripts, and succor for damsels this card.” in distress, came briskly up the walk. Maia. Mr. Converse usually resented being inter- met him half way. rupted and Euphrosyne delivered the card in "I know tomebody tould eat tandy,” she fear and trembling; but as he read the name announced in a guileless, impersonal manner. and the few lines added in pencil, her father's “Will you look her up and give her these face cleared and took on an expression of with my compliments?” asked the man flattered interest.. gravely. “Show Mr. Martin in,” he said; and Sir “Ess, I will." Dudley was welcomed to the sanctum The greedy baby toddled away with the TOULD EAT 680 ine Everybodyer 's Magazine 7 ATTA 1331 AVA bag, and Mr. smiled his frank, Martin turned to disarming smile. Ja net, who ap- “I'm tremen- peared in the dously fond of doorway. children, sir. I • “Mr. Converse wonder if you said to show you would put me still in, sir.” further in your “Thank you.” debt by making Once more the this little woman little accessory over to me for a before the fact Maps while to-morrow. waited, while the I'd like to give her wheels of fate a ride in my car, spun round. and I'd be very Maia came back careful of her. My without a bag and chauffeur could with a smile of re- drive and I could pletion upon her just look out for baby face. It was her. We could go a long time before down to Boston visitor and host and get a big doll came out into the and — I'd really hall; and, when take very good they did, Euphro- care of her, sir.” syne held her If he thought breath. Surely that the baby's something would father was hesi- happen now. The tating from any party was but concern as to the twelve hours SUCH A HURRYING AND SCURRYING AS THERE WAS. safety of his child, away. the petitioner was “It has been a pleasure,” her father was altogether mistaken. Sheer surprise had re- saying, with a frosty little laugh that tinkled duced Mr. Converse to silence, and he stared sharply like ice against a glass. “I am de- incredulously at the speaker. That any one lighted to have cleared up the difficulty for should actually desire a child's society for an the professor. If he should be in this neigh- afternoon was beyond his understanding, and borhood at any time, I should be glad to go this young man had seemed a very rational over the matter with him in person. Thank fellow, too, serious and intelligent beyond his you. I seldom make visits but I shall be years. However, since he had his weaknesses glad to see you whenever you can find time and since a longing for Maia's company was to drop in, and I should be much interested one of them, there was no particular reason in seeing those other manuscripts if you why he should not be indulged. should ever have them here." “It is very good of you, I'm sure. You are He was almost effusive. Even Baby Maia quite welcome to her,” said the fond parent, looked at him wonderingly. Then she trans- in a tone from which he failed to eradicate all ferred her attention to the young man who the contemptuous amazement. leaned over to put a hand under her fat chin “Would you like to go, baby?” asked the and tilt her face up toward his. man in the motor coat. Maia looked as sur- “Did you ever have a motor ride, baby?” prised as her father-also a trifle suspicious. he asked. She was not used to amiability in men and Maia shook her head and rolled a wary eye she "feared the Greeks bearing gifts." toward her father, whose theory that, in the “In vat?” she asked, pointing a chubby presence of company, children should be finger at the car. neither seen nor heard, had been impressed “Yes." upon even her volatile infant mind. “Fast?" The visitor turned abruptly to his host and “Well, pretty fast.” MAGINEL WRIGITT ENRIGT A Damsel in Distress 681 “And a drate bid doll?” of ruffles and shining of shoes slightly scuffed “Yes.” at the toes! Janet had laundered the little “Wiv open and shut eyes?” white frock with consummate skill. Janet “Certainly.” produced, too, from some unknown source, “In Boston?" a blue sash ribbon of surpassing grandeur “Yes." and a little gold locket which Euphrosyne's “Well, I dess I'll doh,” said the young lady, mother had worn to child parties in old Boston with infinite condescension. Euphrosyne town. And this same grim but loving Janet gulped down a very large lump in her throat. escorted a happy little girl, somewhat awed by "I'll come around about two o'clock to- consciousness of her own elegance, to the morrow,” Mr. Martin said as he hurried door of the Marbury house. away. “Indeed, your mother's daughter doesn't It never occurred to Mr. Converse that his go to parties without a maid to take her and older daughter might have been included in the fetch her,” she said haughtily, when Euphro- treat; but Janet, when she heard of the affair, syne protested. resented hotly the slight to her favorite bairn. That was a glorious afternoon, an after- "Well, I must say I don't think much of his noon to furnish dreams for years to come. heart or his manners, if he is a millionaire,” Euphrosyne's cup of joy was full, pressed she announced stoutly, when she had heard down, running over. Didn't Gladys choose all the story from the two children, Euphro her for partner in the very first game, and syne acting as narrator and Maia coming in, didn't she sit between Gladys and Rhoda at like a Greek chorus, with echoes of the im the table, and didn't Mrs. Marbury call her portant phrases. a dear little thing and ask her to come and see "He never said a word about taking you, Gladys often, and weren't there paper caps Miss Euphrosyne? Well, of all the " and favors and baskets of candy to carry Euphrosyne pulled the irate woman's head away? But the best thing of all was await- down and whispered something in her ear. ing her at home. “Oh!” said Janet, with sudden compre- Maia, tired, dusty, but garrulous and gay, hension. “Oh, you'd rather-I see, I see.” was sitting on the steps when her sister came Then she added diplomatically, with a side- back from Wonderland. In her arms was a long glance at the triumphant Maia: “Well, doll almost as large as herself and beside her it's a great thing for the baby, and a shame lay a white package. She boiled over into re- that you can't go, too." cital of her adventures as soon as Euphrosyne The day of the party dawned cloudless and and Janet came within hearing. bright; but no word of the important function “And vere was a chicken and we wunned was spoken in the Converse household. wight over it and it said squawk, and vere Maia had quite forgotten the affair in her was ice tream at a drate bid hotel, and vere brilliant prospects; Mr. Converse never bur- was dolls and dolls, and vis was ve vewy dened his mind with details which did not biddest one—and vat's for oo!” She came immediately affect him; and Euphrosyne and to a sudden full stop and pointed at the Janet cannily refrained from reminding the white package. Wonderingly, Euphrosyne sat baby of her original plans for the day. There down upon the steps, untied the string, un- was no knowing. Even the motor ride and wrapped the paper, and brought to view a Boston and the big doll might not prove large volume bound in blue. One glance told counter attractions strong enough. her what it was, for the words“ King Arthur” At two o'clock Sir Dudley appeared and shone bravely golden against the blue. For bore off his dimpling and excited young lady; a moment she hugged the book to her heart. but as he went he turned to smile at a small Then she laid it gently upon her knees, and, girl who was watching from the dining-room as she did so, it opened at the fly-leaf. There, window, and he gave a friendly little pat to a written in clear, round letters, she read: queer shred of blue and white checked cotton "FOR THE LADYE EUPHROSYNE, that he wore in his buttonhole. FROM HER FAITHFUL KNIGHT AND TRUE Such a hurrying and scurrying as there was FRIEND, in Euphrosyne's little room when the auto- mobile had disappeared in a cloud of dust! DUDLEY OF WALDHURST.” Such . remorseless cleaning and scrubbing, And the afterglow of that day of happiness such brushing of stubborn hair and pinching was better than its high noon. Photograph by Hall, New York. JOHN DREW AND BILLIE BURKE IX "MY WIFE." ShPlayers r UN-PLAY drama seems to be the thing. Leader” so conscientiously, so enthusias- U No fewer than six such explosive playstically, as theatrical managers. Any play opened the present theatrical season in New that makes a real success is bound to be York, and still there's more to follow. The trailed by many that try for a similar ap- daily slaughter is frightful, and the expendi- peal. Western drama has had first place ture of ammunition so prodigal as to console for several seasons, and it appears to be cartridge manufacturers for the absence more popular than ever. William A. of actual war. Brady, one of the most astute of the There isn't a boys' gang in the coun- managers, says that the vogue of this try that plays the game of “Follow My kind of play is largely due to President 682 The Players 683 Roosevelt, who has done so much to arouse I ever saw incorporated in a play, saves interest in the West and to make out-of- “The Round-Up" from being merely a rather doors attractive. cheap melodrama. The play has comedy, In these advanced days, when one rather too, real comedy. expects to hear babes babble about psychology “The Round-Up" was written by Edmund -so familiarly is the word bandied about— Day, formerly an actor who filled in with gentlemen who think professionally and draw newspaper work between engagements, and salaries for it will probably tell us that the who latterly has been writing vaudeville reasons for the popularity of gun-play drama sketches. He has devised some excellent lie deeper than the explanation given by Mr. scenes and situations, but they are strung Brady. The propaganda of a popular presi- along in an incoherent fashion, and the story dent helps, of course, but the thinking gentle is wabbly and impossible. If he had men would probably assure us that these plays eliminated the plot altogether, keeping the have a breadth, a bigness, a generousness- comedy and that gorgeous fight, I am not especially if they are redolent of the soil— sure but that the audiences would have liked that are lacking in modern plays of the draw- the play better. Clearer characterization would ing-room. When a have helped greatly. people is prosperous, Except where the when the wolf doesn't players have come to dream of venturing the rescue, Mr. Day's from the tall timbers, people seem to be individual human be- mere puppets - Cow- ings are peculiarly boys mostly—taken receptive to fine, big, out of stories and primitive emotions. other plays. And They like to feel the cowboy seems to themselves in close be as elusive as he is contact with nature. popular for stage pur- Then, too, these poses. The only gun plays are melo- characteristics upon dramas, and melo- which the play- dramas are the best wrights agree appear plays of all. Real to provoke the sharp- melodrama produces est criticism from thrills that have high those supposed to commercial value, know the ranchman especially on the intimately. stage. People are Never has Mack- willing to pay hand- lyn Arbuckle made somely for them in a part stand out so time and money. prominently as he “The Round-Up" does “Slim” Hoover, proves that. It has the sheriff, although about two and a half he is not on the stage hours of play and a great deal. His possibly fifteen sec- own opinion of “The onds of thrill, and Round-Up," private- these seconds make ly expressed, is inter- it a rattling, banging, esting: whooping success. “The actors jump There is a fight that out of their holes, starts one's blood to run down to the galloping, that makes footlights, bark a one want to yell with few minutes, and frantic abandon; and LULU GLASER IN THE TITLE ROLE OF then run like — this fight, really the to give the scenery a finest stage spectacle chance." Photoniph by Hall, New York "LOLA FROM BERLIN." 684 Everybody's Magazine Copyright, 1967, by F. C. Bangs, New York. WRIGHT LORIMER AS AUSTIV IN “THE QUICKSANDS." As a matter of fact, the scenery is working all the time, for this play is one of the most magnificent scenic productions that New York has seen. Mr. Arbuckle himself doesn't bark at all. He gets humorous effects without the slight- est apparent effort. He knows the kind of character he portrays, as he proves by a score of details—his costume, the toeing-in when he stands, his manner of handling revolvers. Incidentally, it is a relief to see stage cowboys and Western gun-fighters who ignore triggers when they shoot. If there is anything the real Westerners despise it is a self-cocking revolver. They either snap the hammer with a thumb or "fan” it. Mr. Arbuckle gives the finishing touch to his portrayal when he rolls a cigarette with one hand, and it is rather curious that this is always roundly applauded. Despite the fact that he oozes fun and good nature, the actor gives the im- pression that back of it all “Slim” Hoover is a man of great force. Orme Caldara does the hero as well as such an impossible person could be counter- feited, while Harold Hartsell makes Buck McKee, the bad man, nearly human. The comedy cowpunchers, especially the Fresno of Charles Abbe, are highly entertaining. In the language of the stage, Mr. Abbe is a great “bit” actor, which means that he can make a minor character, one that is on the stage but a few minutes at a time, impress itself in- delibly on the minds of an audience, but is not neąrly so successful in sustaining a long part. The author has made the women of “The Round-Up” mere abstractions; they are only necessities of the dull plot. Florence Rock- well struggles hopelessly with Echo Allen, while Julia Dean, lately the star in “The Little Gray Lady,” has more success with Polly Hope, the poor relation. Apart from Mr. Arbuckle, it is the produc- tion—which means the superb scenery, the costuming, the color, the massing and handling of a great number of people, in short, all the spectacular effects, especially that wonderful fight — that makes “The Round-Up" the success that it is. It has been three years since a new play has come from the pen of Augustus Thomas and much was expected of him. When it be- came known that he had chosen the border for his theme, it was expected that he would give us a drama as fine as “Arizona." That Dustin Farnum, who emerged from obscurity to make a remarkable hit in “The Virginian,” was to star in the new Thomas play added to the pleasure of anticipation. It is uncom- fortable to record that “The Ranger” failed to meet expectations. Of these two new gun plays, one is strong where the other is weak. “The Ranger” has a good story, logically told, a really interesting story, but the situations are mere episodes, and the climacteric scene doesn't get hold of one. It is a melodrama with only near- thrills. Yet there are ever so many things about “The Ranger” that are worth while. For Photograph by lawyer, Chiungo. FLORENCE ROCKWELL, LEADING WOMAN IN " TIE ROUND-UP." The Players 685 one thing, it shows how civilization is driving ro- mance out of the United States. The playwright, therefore, who is seeking it, must either go back into history or cross the border to find those primitive con- ditions where romance can flourish, where elemental passions have full play- those passions that have so direct and powerful an appeal. There is no doubt of the primitive quality of a country that produces a heroic figure like Captain Esmond, and at the same time fosters a deep-dyed villain like Harrington, who would be ridiculous in a modern drawing-room play. Long ago Augustus Thomas took rank with the masters of stagecraft, and never has his art shown to greater advan- tage than in “The Ran- ger.” Merely as a picture of life and conditions across the Rio Grande- the scene is laid in Mexico, just over the border-it is worth while. The charac- terization, the scenery, the costuming, the property ac- cessories—all impress one that stage art could go no farther and keep within truth. Mr. Thomas has half a dozen Spaniards or Mexicans in the cast, and the best touch of all is the pompous little Mexican policeman, barefooted, with soiled white trousers, and an old uniform blouse and cap. The man who takes the part is a cigar- maker by trade, and has had no previous stage ex- perience. He alone is al- most sufficient to give the production the hall-mark of fidelity. Certainly he is the finest touch in the play. Photograph by Hall, New York. IIUXTLEY WRIGHT AS JOE MIVENS, FLOSSIE HOPE AS ELIZA, AND THE CIORI'S IN THE DAIRYMAIDS." NU Paulupit by Vurant, Vew lozk. FLORENCE NASH In "The Boys of Company B.” 686 GRACE GEORGE Playing in “Divorcons." 688 Everybody's Magazine The dialogue is of the kind that Mr. Thomas has led us to expect from him, terse, clear, vigorous—but he has carefully re- frained from letting any humor creep into it, and humor is perhaps Mr. Thomas's strongest asset. Certainly, the character of Captain Esmond would be vastly improved by humor, and possibly Dustin Farnum would not then shooting. It is a curious mixture of strength and weakness, and shows the antagonism of themes that was so irritatingly noticeable in “Strongheart.” William C. De Mille wrote “Strongheart” all alone; in writing “Class- mates" he had the assistance of Margaret Turnbull. The first act of “Classmates." takes place at West Point and has the horse-play l'hotograph by Hail, New York. WALTER PERCIVAL SINGING "STORY BOOK DAYS" IN "THE LADY FROM LANT'S." play the heroic Texas ranger in such highly supposed to indicate joyous, effervescent heroic fashion. The naturalness, the repose, vouth, but the actors are sad imitations of the simplicity that made his Virginian so ad- cadets. The second act, in a New York draw- mirable seem to have disappeared. He poses ing-room, has interest, while the third, in the and swaggers outrageously. Mr. Thomas heart of the Amazon jungle, has originality goes in for naturalness, which may explain and great strength. It is in an altogether dif- why he has his actors speak in so low a tone ferent key from the rest of the play, so far re- that they can scarcely be heard, and Mr. moved from the mushy first act that one Farnum, who has one of the finest voices on marvels how an intelligent mind could put the the stage, is the worst offender in this re two together. This third act grips one and gard. He can read with fine intelligence, saves the play, making one almost willing to sure phrasing, and real feeling, and there is forgive the counterfeit youth in the preceding no excuse for his indistinctness. acts. But it is impossible to escape the regret It is misleading to call “Classmates” a gun that the authors did not have greater skill play; in fact, it is difficult to classify it at all. in getting the characters into this situation. There is a liberal display of weapons but no Robert Edeson has the heroic rôle, but there The Players 689 are two other fine acting parts. It is unusual as a light comedian. In fact, some of us had for a star to accept a play that gives others forgotten that in this field Mr. Drew has better opportunities than his own rôle, so un- no equal on the American stage. usual that actors think it never happens inten The theme of "My Wife” is old enough: tionally. But Mr. Edeson is not only an a bachelor marries a young girl out of pure honest, sincere actor but a manly man who kindness, to save her from another match, isn't disposed to "hog everything in sight”- and with the understanding that they shall to drop into the stage vernacular. He is very be divorced so that she can wed a man with willing that others shall have every chance to whom she believes herself in love. Of course distinguish themselves. He does fine work as husband and wife really come to care for each Duncan Irving. other in the end. It is the treatment, not the So far as prominence goes, Bubbie Dumble theme, that gives the comedy real distinction. should be the star part. He has all the laugh- To begin with, all the characters are people ter-provoking situations, all the bright lines- of flesh and blood, clearly drawn and always and they are bright. There is a scene in the interesting. Then, the play is remarkably last act where Bubbie is waiting to be married well constructed. It moves swiftly and lo- and where he interrupts a dozen times to ask gically; there is significance as well as humor “What time is it?” that is delicious. Frank in its situations, in the play of personalities. McIntyre plays Bubbie with a natural unctu- The story is developed naturally and force- ous comedy, a fine sense of humor, and a fully. The dialogue is immensely clever, naturalness that stamp him as a real actor without being in the least forced and arti- To be sure, no fourth-year cadet was ever ficial, and there isn't a dull moment in the so fat as Mr. McIntyre, not by a hundred four acts. It isn't much of a stage produc- pounds or so—they train them to the bone at tion, but the play is so good that one forgets West Point—but no one bothers about that, the scenery—and that is most astonishing in for Mr. McIntyre keeps the audience bub- these days. bling when it isn't roaring at him. Mr. Drew is on the stage most of the time, The villain of the play, who after all is only and it has been long since he has been seen a weak cad, falls to the lot of Wallace Ed- to such excellent advantage. His intelligent dinger, who proves that he is really an able reading of the crisp dialogue, his by-play, his and versatile actor. This is notable because subtle naturalness in scoring points, remind he was a youthful prodigy, one of the three one of the old Augustin Daly days. Truly, far-famed children who played Little Lord he is “everything that goes with evening Fauntleroy ever so many years ago, the others dress.” He is that rare thing, an absolutely being Tommy Russell, who long since retired finished actor. from the stage, and Elsie Leslie, who is still He has a new leading woman who doesn't acting in a sweetly pretty way. In the third seem in the least depressed because she is act of “Classmates” Mr. Eddinger is shown called Billie Burke. Miss Burke came to wandering about in the jungle, crazed by New York fresh from London triumphs in fever and hunger, and haunted by delusions, comedies with and without music. She is an which he portrays with a graphic, repressed American-by birth, at least—and she began realism that is most impressive. The women her stage career in this country. She didn't in the play are rather insipid, hardly worth make a marked impression, so she went to the trouble that is taken for them. London, where she developed rapidly. It is most difficult to adapt successfully a Miss Burke is really a fine type of what is French comedy into English, because the usually referred to as the “onjynoo,” but not standards of the two peoples are so different. the pert, pretty, and insipid kind recently Now, and then, as in “The Marriage of most familiar, for she is a real actress. She Kitty," the English version is really better has originality, naturalness, and personal than the original because of the elimination of charm. She is a trim little woman with a things that appeal to the French and that we round face, questioning eyebrows, a delicate don't discuss publicly. And one may believe mouth, and a nose that should be tilted if it that this is also true of “My Wife, which is not. One of the best things about her is Michael Morton has Anglicized with great her laugh, a rippling, spontaneous laugh that skill, to the immense benefit of John Drew. compels others to join in-a blessed thing For he is given an opportunity he has not to possess. known in years to display his marvelous finish All the players in “My Wife” are ad- Plain Labels on Germ Enemies By WILLIAM HANNA THOMSON. M.D., LL.D. EDITOR'S NOTE.-Do you know that three-fifths of all human deaths are caused by germ diseases ? Suppose some one were to say to you, “I can tell you all about germs and contagious diseases in such a manner as to enable you to understand once and for all what they are, and exactly how and why they affect our bodies." Wouldn't you tell him to go ahead ? That is just what Dr. William Hanna Thomson has done here. The article is a marvel of simple exposition and is the spirit extract of many thousand volumes. N OTHING in our age has equaled the diseases. But this view was then received progress of medicine in the knowledge with general incredulity and ridicule, which of that large class of accidental diseases which continued for years. It was but lately that I may be grouped together as “The Infec- learned that the eminent pathologist Henle tions.” It is well to emphasize their accidental took a similar position in a paper published nature from the start, because accidents are thirteen years before mine. preventable, and we should not cease insisting I make this historical reference because that the great havoc which these diseases both the community and the profession are occasion, amounting to at least three-fifths of still suffering from the influence of old errors all human deaths, scarcely need occur if about infections in delaying the formation of proper precautions were taken against them. a popular terminology which would define The human body, by none of its processes, clearly the different classes of these diseases. normal or abnormal, can give origin to a Thus to the misuse of the term “conta- single one of these deadly agents, any more gious" may truly be ascribed not only the loss than a field does to whatever grows in it; of unnumbered lives, but also the infliction they are living things, and all the body does upon multitudes of needless suffering and in- is to furnish the soil for their development. justice. The State Medical Society of Massa- It is curious how slow the medical pro- chusetts, for example, issued in 1855, a cir- fession was in accepting the doctrine that cular for the information of the public assert- these agents are living things and owe their ing that Asiatic cholera, then beginning to be properties wholly to that fact. This should epidemic, was not at all contagious, but was have been surmised long before it was de- due to a miasm pervading the atmosphere. monstrated by the microscope, because the Both these statements operated as mis- distinctive features of the most familiar in- chievous mistakes, the first because it implied fections-namely, a first period of incubation that if a disease is not "contagious” it is not specific to each, followed by a similar period communicable, whereas cholera, which is in- of development, which ends at last in a great deed not contagious, may be carried thou- reproduction of the original agent in the body, sands of miles. From the sway of the second thus showing that it always breeds true— error the profession has only lately been are all characteristics of living things only delivered. There is no miasm. The whole and never of any mere physical or chemical conception which formerly filled the minds of agents. medical men, of noxious vapors or gases After beginning my professional life as causing disease by rising into the air from Acting Physician of the New York Quaran- miasmatic swamps, ditches, or soils, has been tine Hospital in 1859, I published a paper in finally dispelled by the demonstration that 1862 (American Medical Times, September, there is no such thing as malaria in the sense 1862) in which I maintained that nothing of a bad air, but that the disease is due solely but the action of living organisms could to a hypodermic injection, by a mosquito, account for the phenomena of communicable of a dose of micro-organisms. There are, 691 692 Everybody's Magazine therefore, no unhealthy places nor climates, fully examined the Kansas soil, water, and as such, but localities instead which medical air without finding any explanation therein, science can make as salubrious as any, by dis- but they found a Kansas tick, which crept infection. up the hoofs of the cattle and bit them The need, however, of an adequate just above the fetlock. They took some of terminology which would enable the com these ticks, first down to Texas and then munity to discriminate at once between the others to Illinois and Ohio, and let them bite different kinds of infections, cannot be over- cattle in those widely separated places, with estimated. Both the slowness of the public to the unvarying result of killing the cattle with cooperate with the profession for the preven- billions of these parasites eating up their tion of epidemics, and the disgraceful panics, blood-corpuscles. often entailing great commercial losses, which they occasion, are largely due to a prevailing THE MALARIAL MOSQUITO confusion about the meaning of terms. We need not wonder at the uncertainty of the The last step completed the demonstra- public on this subject when, but a few years tion, when they discovered that these ticks ago, the New York Academy of Medicine themselves were infected about their mouths had to call the medical officials of the New with the identical parasite which afterward York Board of Health to account for a public multiplied in the cows' blood, and which the announcement, by them, that tuberculosis is ticks thus communicated when they bit. a contagious disease. The public under- The question, therefore, at once arose, stands what a contagious disease means from What creature bites us? Of course, that smallpox. Everybody, including his dearest nocturnal musician, the mosquito. But there ones, should fear to approach such a patient. are 125 varieties of mosquitoes, and the in- Acting on the suggestion that tuberculosis also quiry was halted for a long time by the in- is contagious, employers have mistakenly vestigators' failing to find any kinds of discharged scores of unfortunate consump- mosquitoes which were worse than mere tives, for them and their families to starve. nuisances, until finally it was decided to try What we particularly need, therefore, are the mosquitoes which lived and bit in par- terms that will indicate the ways by which ticularly malarious places. The Pontine these diseases are usually propagated. When marshes in Italy had always been celebrated the ways are understood, then, and only then, for malaria, and so some of the local insects the devising of means for preventing their there with handsome spots on their wings propagation becomes feasible. were caught by Italian savants and sent to a convent in the Apennines whose inmates never had malaria. When the mosquitoes TEXAS CATTLE AND KANSAS TICKS were let loose there upon some men, straight- For it is by no means enough to know what way the men had ague. Likewise, a batch of the offending micro-organism is; we must also Pontine mosquitoes was sent to London, know how it manages to get in. Thus where two medical students volunteered to Laveran, a French surgeon in Algiers, in 1880 have their hands bitten by them. Both these demonstrated that malarial fever is caused by young men had their blood filled with La- an animalcule that eats up our red blood- veran's animalcules in thirty-six hours. An corpuscles. But how it comes to enter the English commission of doctors was sent to blood could not be imagined, until the dis- camp in those deadly swamps for a year, which covery in 1892 of the cause of Texas cattle they did, protected by wire netting, without fever, by two American surgeons, Kilburn one of them becoming infected. and Theobald Smith, threw light on the Now, in daily practise nothing is often so subject. The cattle, when they started in puzzling to decide as whether the ailments of a droves from Texas for Chicago, had nothing patient are due to malaria or not, for it can the matter with them, but while passing wear more disguises than any sneak-thief; through a district in Kansas they caught a but if it is malaria, then a drop of blood under pernicious fever which these surgeons, de- the microscope tells that the patient has been puted by the United States Government to visited by that hungry mosquito called investigate the subject, found to be due to a Anopheles claviger, after he has gorged blood parasite similar to Laveran's parasite himself with the blood of another already in- of human malaria. The surgeons care- fected human being. Therefore, the im- Plain Labels on Germ Enemies 693 portant facts are settled that the malarial para- CLASS II site must always come first from an infected human being and that the winged carrier from Those which are communicated from the the infected to the healthy must be an sick to the healthy indirectly, that is, by some Anopheles. Which, however, was the first intermediate carrier of the infection, and not in history to harbor these sickening things by simple proximity. These diseases, there- is like the old question whether the egg fore, are not "contagious," and those sick preceded the hen or the hen preceded the with them can be personally attended without egg. danger. This particular aspect of the question, viz., CLASS III how our microbic enemies get into us, is practically so all-important that we will add Those in which the infection gains entrance another illustration. Malta or Mediterranean by inoculation, that is, through a wound of fever, as it is called, is a serious infection the skin or mucous membrane, or by some which causes an exhausting fever character- equivalent lesion thereof. These affections ized by numerous relapses. The British likewise are not contagious. Government found that in 1905 it was re- sponsible for the expensive item of the loss of TRAVELING DISEASES 80,000 days of service by soldiers of the Malta garrison, besides those who died from it or Now, every infection can be communicated who were invalided home. The Government by injection into a vein, and some of the con- requested the Royal Society to send a com- tagious diseases, like smallpox and scarlet mission to find out what could be done about fever, may be carried by clothes, or even by it, for though the bacterium of this fever letter, from one person to another. But had been identified since 1887, or for eighteen neither of these modes of infection is com- years, yet its origin and mode of propaga- mon, and therefore, practically, need not tion were still unknown. The commission militate against a classification which is in- established the fact that this bacterium first tended for general use. attacked goats and then passed into the I. The term “contagious” need not be ob- milk of these animals. As this article was jected to because, strictly speaking, it defines the only milk used by the soldiers, imported the mode of communication to be by personal cows' milk was substituted, with the result contact. This probably is not the actual that in 1906 the epidemic entirely ceased in mode in the majority of cases, but the ex- the garrison. planatory term "proximity” is amply suffi- Such illustrations suffice to explain why cient; and, moreover, points out the only physicians chafe so at the fact that while the adequate means of prevention, namely, organisms which cause those most terrible of quarantine. The practical question, then, infections, pneumonia and cerebro-spinal becomes how long the quarantining of the meningitis, are known and can be cultivated sick should be continued, and this can be on suitable media outside of the body, yet settled only according to the particular infec- how they get into the body is not yet settled. tion itself. The chief members of this class are: smallpox, scarlet fever, measles, whoop- A PROPOSED CLASSIFICATION ing-cough, diphtheria, influenza, typhus (not typhoid) fever, the bubonic plague, mumps, The term “Infectious” should be ap- besides some other minor contagious com- plied to all diseases caused by the entrance plaints. into the body of their specific micro-organ- II. It is with the mode of propagation of the isms. A brief and easily remembered classi- second class, or those diseases which are com- fication of these diseases might be formulated municated by some intermediary carrier, that as follows: the public needs the most instruction. The CLASS I chief members of this class are typhoid fever, Asiatic cholera, and tuberculosis. None of Those which are communicated from the them is contagious—the person sick with sick to the healthy directly. That is, simple them may be attended all through the ill- proximity is sufficient to convey the disease. ness by physicians, nurses, or friends, with- To this class only should the term “Con- out their contracting the disease. And yet no tagious” be applied. person ever has any one of these affections 694 Everybody's Magazine without having got it from some one who has grimage in 1891 was seriously discussed, it. Thus a consumptive lawyer of my ac- and many officials of great experience re- quaintance did not communicate tuberculosis ported that the most complete sanitary ar- to his wife and several children at his own rangements would be powerless to prevent home, but at his down-town office he expector- the spread of cholera if the fair were held. ated freely on the bare floor, with the result that the janitor of the building, with his wife TYPHOID IN CITY WATER and daughter, who in turn daily swept his office floor, all contracted tuberculosis. As no “As this prohibition might entail the danger other office in the building was occupied by a of a general insurrection, the British Govern- consumptive person, it is fairly certain that ment decided to hand the management over he was the propagator of the malady. to the Indian Medical Staff. The latter, now These diseases, therefore, instead of hang- knowing just how cholera infects, and that, ing around the first scene of their activity, are without being taken in food or drink, it given to travel, sometimes to long distances cannot travel six inches, allowed the fair and by hidden ways, to their next victims. to be held. They promptly removed to ap- Modern medicine may well pride itself that its pointed tents every case of the disease in this scientific detectives have at last caught each Asiatic crowd as soon as reported. All one of them by finding just what carriers they discharges from the patients were quickly use on their trips. Deal understandingly disinfected, with the result that the cholera with those carriers and these miscreants are was stamped out as effectually as a fire can done for. be extinguished if taken just at its begin- A striking illustration of this fact is fur- ning.” nished in the case of Asiatic cholera. The W hen cholera visited the port of New York, present generation hardly knows how the being imported from Hamburg, which had dread specter of this epidemic once made all suffered from a severe epidemic in the sum- the Western nations tremble when the news mer of 1892, the New York Academy of came that it had started afresh on its travels Medicine appointed a committee, of which from its native India. The British Govern- I was chairman, to lay before the Senate ment had discovered there that its chief Committee on Cities at Albany the objec- outbursts coincided with the great Hindu pil- tions of the Academy to the plan devised by grimage, which occurred once in twelve years, Tammany Hall to buy up a continuous strip to Hardwar on the Ganges. How cholera of land on each bank of the Croton River might abound on such an occasion is well and prevent thereby the contamination of the shown by the description of Dr. Simpson, the river with cholera germs. We were to show able health officer of Calcutta. that this real estate project would not pre- vent the contamination of the Croton by a A CHOLERA TANK single brook which flows into it, on the Harlem Railroad, after passing the cabins of "At this pilgrimage, which is also held as a Italian laborers. Some of these laborers, we fair, from 800,000 to 1,000,000 Hindus collect learned, had already landed with suspicious to drink the holy waters of their sacred Ganges, bowel complaints from an infected steamer. and to bathe in the great tank constructed As I began, in my remarks, to refer to the at the riverside. From April 8 to April 12, extensive British experience with the dis- 1891, it presented the spectacle of a seething ease, the chairman of the Senate committee mass of humanity in constant motion through roared out: “We do not want anything the pool at the rate of 400 to 500 per minute. English here! God Almighty Himself con- Now, it can easily be imagined that a few taminates the Croton when He sends His cases of cholera introduced into such a rain!” As it was plain to our committee multitude would easily induce not only an that we might as well address a bench of outbreak of cholera there and then, but by the Mohammedan muftis as this body of Senators, returning pilgrims would be carried far and we withdrew. In the next morning's papers, wide. Thus a sanitary commissioner says of the Academy published to the panic-stricken previous Hardwar gatherings that very little city a statement showing what a danger to remains on record, but that little is a record of public health politicians can be in such disease and death. So grave was the outlook emergencies. that the question of prohibiting the pil- We cited, at the time, what I was not al- Plain Labels on Germ Enemies 695 lowed to show to our Senators, the official like the shade, particularly if damp, and being reports that had been sent to me by the heavier than air, gradually sink downward, Hamburg authorities. The latter, when they so that bread crumbs rubbed down the walls found that one side of a street had many of a hospital ward will collect more of them cases of cholera, if it was supplied by water as the floor is approached. From the floor from the Elbe, while the opposite side of where consumptives have been expectorating, the same street, which had a different water- millions of them will rise with the first sweep- supply, did not have a case, at once ordered ing, to infect by way of throat and lungs. scientific engineers to construct great sand How many enter also by being swallowed in filters to purify the Elbe water. On the com- tuberculous meat and milk has not yet been pletion of these filtering plants, cholera ceased, settled, but enough is already known to but not until ships infected with it had indicate where this destroyer is to be found, already started for New York. The Tam- and, therefore, how he is to be fought. All many authorities, alarmed by the newspapers, this knowledge is comparatively recent, asked for another conference with our com- because it was not till 1882 that Koch mittee, promising to adopt any bill that the demonstrated that tuberculosis is a germ Academy would draft. But when the Academy disease. But already its victims are yearly proposed that a filtering plant for the Croton diminishing in number in every country, in should be constructed by experts chosen proportion to its civilization, and it is not a from the American Institute of Engineers, fanciful expectation that in another century instead of by the City Board of Public Works, consumption may become as uncommon as the city officials were much incensed. As leprosy is now. the cholera scare meantime had died out, New York City to this day continues to INFECTION BY INOCULATION drink unfiltered Croton water, with the re- sult that thousands die here from typhoid III. Not since history began has medical fever, which, like cholera, is a water-borne science bestowed such a boon upon mankind disease and which every year becomes more as that which our own generation has wit- rife as the Croton runs low. Philadelphia nessed, in the discoveries of the nature and also has its yearly epidemics of typhoid, prevention of those diseases which infect by which the medical profession there has pro- inoculation, and which constitute our third tested might be obviated by filtering the class. Schuylkill waters. So it might, but for the To impress upon his youthful mind the im- politicians making a job of the construction portance of guarding against this third class of of the filter works, so that they get the money infections, the medical student at the laboratory out of it but leave the typhoid germs in. The is given this object-lesson: Two test-tubes, drainage of Connecticut towns also infects nearly filled with a clear meat broth and then the oyster beds of Long Island Sound, and I closed at the top with a cotton plug, are given have been called in consultation to patients to him, with directions to wash his hands at our most fashionable hotels, ill with ty- with soap and water and clean his nails with a phoid from their habit of eating raw oysters brush as thoroughly as he can for some ten for their first course at dinner. minutes. After he thinks that his hands have become altogether clean, he removes the plug CONSUMPTION LOSING POWER from one of the test-tubes and barely touches with a finger-tip its contained broth, after There remains the so-called Great White which he restores the cotton plug and puts Plague, which might as well be called the both tubes away on a shelf for twenty-four Yellow or the Black Plague, for it is the most hours. What he will see then is that the fatal of diseases in Japan, and negroes are broth in the test-tube which received his sup- particularly susceptible to it. It is doubtless posedly pure touch is turbid from the presence the greatest single cause of death in the of millions of microbes, while the other tube world. The bacteria of tuberculosis choose to remains perfectly clear. ride about on the motes in the air, which can Some years ago Dr. Hermann Knapp, the be seen in a ray of sunshine coming through a distinguished oculist of New York, in order to window. But we now know that sunshine remove the incredulity of some medical men kills them in seven minutes; likewise fresh on this subject, presented at the Academy of air, that is, oxygen, disagrees with them. They Medicine six rabbits on which he had per- 696 Everybody's Magazine formed the operation of extracting the lens of undertaken at Bellevue. The reason given the eye, as is done for patients with cataract. was that he and others of his colleagues lost at Three of the rabbits had their lenses removed Bellevue all their cases of amputation, while by instruments taken bright and clean from at the newly constructed New York and his operating-case; the other three had their Roosevelt Hospitals the same surgeons were lenses dug out with an ordinary carpet tack. uniformly successful. The supposition, there- The result was that the three rabbits that fore, was that the plastering and floors of old were operated on with his usual instruments hospital buildings had somehow become in- for the purpose had lost their eyes by purulent fected with so much going on in them, but ulceration, while the eyes of the three on just how no one could guess. This resolution which the carpet tack was used had healed seemed like going back to the wisdom of the perfectly. The explanation was that the ancients, as reflected in a passage in Leviticus, carpet tack was first sterilized by passing it which directs that the plaster of the house of a through the flame of an alcohol lamp, while leper be taken down and burned because the the instruments were used directly from their plaster itself had leprosy, a fact which modern velvet-lined case. science proves to be literally true. The same thing is true also of that first cousin of leprosy, DANGER IN HOSPITAL PLASTER the bacillus of tuberculosis, which is quite fond of abiding on a shaded plaster wall. But These micro-organisms, therefore, which at present the most serious surgical operations always must be watched against, cover us in are performed at Bellevue with as good a layers from head to foot, besides settling record of success as in any other hospital, upon everything about us, and in such num- simply because the days of antiseptic surgery bers that Surgeon-General Sternberg, in his have come. book on bacteriology, estimates that one kind, What antiseptic surgery means is this: especially dreaded whenever the skin is to Each of us has a great defensive barrier, be cut-the Staphylococcus pyogenes aureus, called by anatomists the basement membrane, can hold a mass-meeting of eight billions of which is continuous, both outside and inside them on the end of a lancet. If it be asked of us. On it grow layers of cells arranged how this enumeration can be made, the in- thickly on the skin, much like shingles, while quirer is referred to the device used by they rather resemble a pavement on that in- microscopists called the cytometer, which ternal skin called the mucous membrane, consists of a plate of glass on which micro- which lines all our tubes and the cavities scopic squares have been scratched by a which are enlargements of those tubes. Now mathematically working machine. A drop of not until our innumerable germ enemies the culture containing the microbes is poured break through this barrier can they set fire upon this plate, and the average number to us with inflammation and abscesses or found in a square is counted. Multiplying poison us outright to death. And antiseptic this average by the whole number of squares surgery represents the methods by which this on the plate will give a more accurate return membrane is protected. than most census-takers make of the popula- tion of New York. IN THE TEMPLE OF MODERN SURGERY Until these our enemies were revealed by that marvelous human invention and bene- The scene at an operating-table in one of factor, the modern microscope, surgeons were our hospitals now would make one of the old in a pathetic state of perplexity how to ac- masters of surgery stare. The operator him- count for a number of puzzles; among them, self and all his staff are dressed like the old the existence of what was then called hos- holy priests of Solomon's Temple, wearing pitalism. By this was meant that there white caps and gowns, with the nurses stand- was something about old hospital buildings ing around like priestesses all in spotless which made it dangerous to perform amputa- white, while every one about the table has tions or other serious operations within their gone through as many ablutions as befits walls. At my first sitting as a member of the the occasion of a bloody sacrifice under Bellevue Hospital Medical Board, the late the auspices of the immaculate Goddess of Dr. H. B. Sands introduced a resolution, Cleanliness. A minute and elaborate ritual which was unanimously passed, that there has been observed of sterilizing everything- after no major surgical operation should be towels, threads, needles, forceps, instruments, Pla 697 Plain Labels on Germ Enemies and what not, while the floor itself is made of has now to be a diligent student of bacteri- glass or glazed tiles, rather than of wood. ology. The surgeon himself does not venture to cut But the record instance, so to speak, of the victim till he has put on his sterilized life-saving still remains to be mentioned. gloves, because he cannot possibly clean his When I came to New York, a great discussion own fingers enough. Should any onlooker was going on at the Academy of Medicine, take his hand out of his pocket to reach for the which lasted for four sittings and was par- gaping wound, he would be ejected instanter ticipated in not only by the most eminent for spoiling the whole performance with his New York men in the department involved, defiling touch. but by distinguished men invited from other The results of this vigilant war against cities. The subject was the nature and treat- microbes are simply marvelous, and can be ment of puerperal peritonitis, or child-bed fully appreciated only by those who, like fever, in which the mortality was then simply myself, can remember the surgery of former awful. Those published debates are now days in hospital wards and on the battle-field. curious reading, for they show that not a man present knew what he was talking about. LIFE-SAVING BY DISINFECTION Suffice it to say that, in that same year, the mortality from puerperal fever in the Vienna When I came to New York, no surgeon Hospital, the largest maternity hospital in the dared to operate for appendicitis, because to world, was fifty-seven per cent. of the mothers open the abdomen then meant almost certain attacked and twenty-eight per cent. of all death, and as for opening the skull to extract a deaths there, while last year in the same insti- brain tumor, none but a lunatic would have tution it had fallen to one-quarter of one per thought of such a thing! Appendicitis oc- cent.! The record of the maternity wards in curred in those days as often as now, but the Bellevue that year was even worse. At patients were left to die with what was then present we can say that this disease is wholly called peritonitis, for which only opium in extinct in the institutions of New York. heroic doses was given. At present, whenever The fearful tetanus, or lockjaw, was as- the symptoms of peritonitis develop, some- cribed in all the books when I was a student thing in the nature of a surgical accident to puncture or irritation of a nerve, and both within the abdominal cavity is suspected. If hands and feet were sometimes cut off to stop nothing else will explain the matter, an ex- the irritation going up the nerve to the spine. ploratory operation opening this once sacred Now we know that it is due to a fatal poison cavity is gone through with, quite unconcern- in the blood, which acts like strychnia, though edly, because if need be the surgeon is ready more painfully, and which is produced by a then to sew up a hole in the stomach caused bacillus lodged in a punctured wound made by an ulcer, or to resect a yard of the in- by some stick, nail, or pistol wad on which this testine. As to that big bag, the peritoneum evil bacillus happened to be. It is a soil —which, if its folds were all opened out, bacillus and swarms in rich garden earth, would be four times the extent of the skin, particularly where guano or fish manure is if he finds that pus-making microbes have got used. All wounds, therefore, into which into its cavity, he will then flood it with earth has entered should be promptly cau- gallons of water, sterilized by being well terized. boiled. Though the reader can now imagine what HYDROPHOBIA PREVENTABLE unnumbered lives have been saved by this vigilance against infection by inoculation, the Hydrophobia also presents another illustra- triumphs by the same means of what is called tion of what modern science can do. A conservative surgery are no less complete. recent remarkable discovery by Dr. Ira Van Limbs or other parts terribly injured in rail- Giesen, of the Laboratory of the New York road accidents, or in machine shops, or in war, Board of Health, makes it possible now to which formerly would have been dealt with determine in a few minutes what used to take by immediate amputation, are now preserved weeks to decide. As dogs are so generally to their owners almost as a matter of course. shot if they bite people in the streets, it then And all on principles of disinfection of such becomes an anxious question whether the dog wide application that every specialist in was mad or not. Formerly, to settle this affections of the eye, ear, nose, throat, etc., question, rabbits were inoculated with the 698 Everybody's Magazine saliva or blood of the suspected dog, to see if it gave them the disease. But it might be necessary to wait a month to be sure on this point. But Dr. Van Giesen has discovered that a slice of a mad dog's brain shows an ap- pearance in the brain-cells never found except in rabies. If this is found, the serum treat- ment initiated by the illustrious Pasteur should be commenced at once, because it very rarely fails to prevent the development of this dreadful malady if begun in time. MARTYRS OF SCIENCE and breeds in household water receptacles, such as tubs, or even tin cans. The city of Havana for several centuries has been the yellow-fever pest-hole for infecting North America; and every summer our Southern cities have been in fear of this undesirable Cuban importation. As soon as the Spaniards were put out by our army, Havana was cleansed of its dirt and became a healthy city, except that it still produced yellow fever. In 1900, the United States Army Commission, of which the lamented Dr. La- zear was one, by a series of ingenious inves- tigations proved that Stegomia was the cul- prit. Straightway Surgeon Colonel W. C. Gorgas, the Sanitary Superintendent of Havana, suffocated all the mosquitoes with smudge in the houses, and dosed their larvæ with petroleum in 26,000 domestic water receptacles which his inspectors discovered, with the result that on September 28, 1901, the last case of yellow fever in Havana was re- ported, and for two years not a single new case occurred in that city. Colonel Gorgas has remarked in a recent address that medical science will yet make tropical countries the most desirable places in the world to live in. Last, but by no means least, is yellow fever. When I was physician of the New York Quarantine Hospital, we all were possessed with imaginary fears that this deadly agent was a something which clung to clothes and such things, and we were afraid even of the silk ribbons tied around bunches of Havana cigars. All articles too valuable to burn were wheeled into cast-iron ovens to be superheated, while a big iron scow was laden with the cheaper goods from the in- fected ships and towed down the Lower Bay to make a blaze of them at night. And all the while, yellow fever cometh only through the proboscis of a mosquito! All our fuss was needless, and we might have accepted presents of cigars from ships' captains without a tremor. But never should it be forgotten that the knowledge that has abated this fearful scourge—in the epidemic of 1793, one-tenth of the inhabitants of Philadelphia died from it—was bought at the expense of heroic lives in scientific searching for its real cause. As Dr. Osler says, the deaths of Dr. Lazear of the American Com- mission of 1900, and of Dr. Myers of the Liverpool Commission, from this disease, add two more names to the already long roll of the martyrs of science. This yellow-fever mosquito is not our above- mentioned acquaintance Anopheles Claviger, who gives us chills and fever, but is dubbed Culex Stegomia, and is remarkable for its domestic habits, because it stays in houses MEDICINE AND REAL ESTATE But how does the world reward such great and brave life-savers ? New York spent three days celebrating the advent of Admiral Dewey, because he had destroyed whole ships' crews of Spaniards without himself losing a man. In contrast, all that medical science can say to her votaries is: Do not expect to have people thank you for the dis- eases they do not have, though but for you they would have them badly. But you may receive some consideration if you show that vast tracts of now worthless real estate may become marketable, if only your profession be allowed to make them healthy at the cost of one-hundredth of the sums now spent by civilized men in finding the best means to shoot or to drown their fellows! LITTLE STORIES OF @REAL Alla® LIFE 9 No Merry-Go-Roundin' “Ma!” called the deep voice of Bill from the stairway. By Bessie R. Hoover “Hey?" answered Ma absently, deeply considering whether she ought to cut the N Labor Day morning, in the dingy yel lemon pies now or wait till dinner-time. “If low tenement that the Flickingers called they're cut now they'll drip," she said, think- home, the wildest chaos reigned, with the ing aloud. “But if I don't cut 'em-and storm-center in the pantry where Ma was there never is no knife at a picnic—then the packing the picnic dinner. boys'll claw 'em to pieces." . For Pa Flickinger, partly out of politeness “My jack-knife ain't been out'n my pocket to his employer, who was giving a picnic to for ten year—that cuts summat,” suggested the men in his factory, but mostly because he Pa; then he asked: “Could them socks be in himself wanted to go, was preparing to take the clothes-basket?” the whole family for a day's outing at St. “That's jest where they be; git 'em on to Joe, a summer resort just across the river on yourself; and then hunt up a collar- You Lake Michigan. make me nervous! Let me see, what was I Pa and his two sons, Bill, the autocrat of worryin' about? Oh, yes, a knife " the family, and Jed, who founded himself on “My jack-knife ain't been out'n—" began Bill, and the boys' ten-year-old sister, Opal, Pa, returning with so radiant a face that Ma came and went in all stages of apparel; knew he had found his clean socks. jerked open reluctant bureau drawers, pawed “Ma! can't you hear nothin'?” yelled Bill the contents wildly over without seeing the in stentorian tones. He was the eldest son, things that lay uppermost, and hunted ex- and his pampered spirit could not easily citedly for their best clothes. brook delay. “It does seem as if all the duds we've got “Yes, Billy, in a minute." is lost," cried Ma. “Git out of them bureau “Come now," shouted Bill; “I want to ast drawers, Jed; a fool'd know his shoes wasn't you somethin'." there." "I'm busy; spit it out.” Pa's clean socks were also missing. “You “Anybody down there?” questioned her come in here," declared Ma, mashing butter six-foot son cautiously, having a request to into a cup, “as if the pantry was your regular make that could not be aired before the whole dressing-room;" for Pa was standing meekly family. by with his best shoes in his hand. “Nobody here but me and your Pa and “Take your time, old woman, take your Jed and Opal; no, there's nobody here." time-no hurry.” Pa spoke placidly enough, “Come to the stairway a minute. Hustle but it could be seen at a glance that his very up!” ordered Bill. Worn out by his impor- soul was anxious about socks. tunity, Ma went, to get rid of him. 699 700 Everybody's Magazine Bill stood half-way down the narrow stairs, “Well, I guess not; your brother ain't no holding at arm's length a fire-red necktie, bootblack; git out!” He could be very gra- and a green one sprinkled with purple stars. cious to grown people or to company, but “Which?” he inquired mysteriously. even civility to Jed and Opal was seldom “Which what?” snapped Ma; “we won't compatible with his lordliness. git to St. Joe till doomsday if we fool “Lemme in!” shouted a small boy, pulling around so." frantically at the screen door. “Which tie shall I wear? Sophie sorter Opal hastily admitted Butch, her little likes the red one; but she's never saw the nephew, who lived in the next house. Once green-it's a beaut!” inside he began to wail with noisy and pre- “Put 't on-you look like a speckled pig— conceived earnestness. take 't off. Wear the red one, Billy; that's “What ails you, Butch?” inquired Pa. jest enough color to set you off.” Butch blubberingly replied that company Ma went back, smiling to think that Bill had just come from Indiana on an excursion, cared for her advice on so delicate a matter so none of his folks could go to the picnic. as pleasing his girl. For Sophie Budzban- “Ain't that provokin'!” exclaimed Ma. owsky had been invited to eat dinner with "Elvie can't go neither on account of Beu- the family that day, and although she and lah's bein' exposed to the measles; and now Bill had been "going together” for some Mandy's folks is kept to home. We might time, they had never seen her. take Butch- What say, Pa?” “Who's got the shoe-blackin'?” yelled “Couldn't keep Butch out'n Lake Michi- Bill, still on the stairs. gan; he's the worst there is,” declared Pa. “Jed—and he won't let me black my Whereupon Butch became inconsolable. shoes," returned Opal. “I found it first.” “I wanter see Bill's Budzbanowsky," “Shut up,” snarled Jed, who treated his sniffed Butch. This was his way of refer- little sister in the same manly fashion that ring to Bill's girl. Bill treated him. "Shut that up, kid,” commanded Bill, “Shut up yourself,” roared Pa; “no cater- secretly pleased. “Of course you can go. waulin' or neither of you don't go to St. Your Uncle Bill'll see that you don't fall into Joe.” the drink. I'll look after Butch, Ma." “You kids hand that blackin' over to me Butch ran home to get ready, recognizing or git cuffed,” threatened Bill. in Bill a royal patron whose word was law in “Take Billy the shoe-blackin', Opal," the family. supplemented Ma, fearing a scene with her By slow degrees the Flickingers donned high-handed son. their best clothes, and at nine o'clock crowded “Bill gits ornerier every day," grumbled into the front room to wait for Ma, who was Pa. laboriously jerking on her black alpaca. Just then Milo, the husband of an older Jule had come over, resplendent in a new daughter, Jule, who lived in another row of striped green lawn, feeling that for once she tenements on the same street, tapped on the was correctly dressed; Milo was with her, screen door with a modest knuckle and said: peacefully chewing a grass stem and minding “She wants the shoe-blackin' if youse got the twins, Janice and Jasper. Butch was any." also there, uncomfortably packed in a tight, " Jest a minute, Milo,” called Bill genially stuffy little suit, with his heart dancing for from the parlor, where he was polishing his joy under his padded vest. shoes with one great foot on the organ stool. “I've got a word to say before we start," “I ain't blacked yet," growled Jed. announced Pa, raising his voice formally to “Me neither," echoed Opal. address the assembled family. “We're poor “It's only my shoes, anyhow," apologized folks and can't spend no fortune on this pic- Jule's husband with his habitual mildness; nic. The boss of the factory, he pays the “let 'em go.” car fare, and your Ma, she supplies the din- “Why, no,” cried Bill cordially; “don't be ner. So far-good. But now I'm comin' to a slouch jest because you're married. Come them attractions at the resort that ain't so in, and I'll shine 'em up for you.” good for us—leastways for our pocketbooks. “Black me, Bill," petitioned Jed when “I've got a little spare change,” went on Milo was gone. Pa,“and I suppose you boys have-so if any- “Me, too,” demanded Opal. thing should happen—. But we ain't goin' "I DIDN'T KNOW THIS FAMILY COULD TURN OUT SUCH A STYLISH OUTFIT!" to spend it on nonsense. Everybody hear that? No merry-go-roundin', no tintypin', no paddlin' in the lake and drowndin' in a holeno foolishness whatever. All mind your Ma; look sharp for pickpockets; keep your hats on your heads, and remember you've got on your best clothes. And we'll all keep together, avoidin' merry-go-rounds and things afore-mentioned, and I guess we'll come home right side up. “But”-here Pa smiled and gave a sigh of relief to think that his lecture, in which Ma had privately instructed him, was over— “well all take a ride on that there baby rail- road—that ain't more'n half as big as a real one; and that's about as much dissipation as we can stand in a day—that and the dinner.” All listened respectfully to Pa's ultimatum, except Bill, who grinned and said: “Sorry, Pa, but I couldn't keep to your little old program for five minutes—it wouldn't do.” “Well, Billy, I dunno as 'twould,” gave in Pa good-naturedly, "seein' you've got sixty- five cents to burn; besides, you've got to treat your girl like a gent ought; but the rest of us, we've got our work cut out.” “I declare I didn't know this family could turn out such a stylish outfit!” cried Ma, as they started down the street toward the car line. “Fares,” said the conductor, as soon as they were safely seated in the street-car. “Fares!” echoed Pa with a stare; "the boss he pays for this ride.” “This ain't the picnic car-git off or pay.” “We git off,” returned Pa. B utch thought that was all there was go- ing to be of the ride. “Can't we go, Aunt Jule?” he asked, as they were climbing off the car. “It don't look like it," snapped Jule. “I go right on," sang out Bill, and paid his fare and sailed away. “That's a nice way for Bill to take care of Butch," grumbled Ma. “When did Bill ever do what he said he would?” inquired Jule tartly. “I dunno but we're on a fool chase,” wor- ried Ma. “I always was afraid of Lake Michigan–I don't feel jest right about tak- in' Butch over there. I'd go back home for a penny, What say, Pa?" “I say wait a bit," advised Pa; "there'll be another car along." “But how'll we know it's ourn?” asked Ma. “Probably it'll have a banner on it sayin' “Picnic car,'” suggested Milo. “Probably it won't,” contradicted Jule crossly. “I don't suppose we'll git to go-I never do go nowhere." But the very next car bore the welcome tidings that it was reserved for the factory crowd. Milo hailed with a relaxed palm, Pa hailed with a lusty arm, and Jule hailed with Janice as a signal. And Butch's face, which had been puckered into a dismal scowl during the enforced wait, gradually unpuckered itself after they were aboard the car, while he held on to his hat with both hands and breathed in long deep breaths of pure joy as the bell 701 702 Everybody's Magazine tinkled alluringly and the bobbing houses In three minutes they were seated in the shunted by small compartments behind the little engine The loaded car fairly flew across the that dragged its heavy load of picnickers marshes between the two towns, rumbled up around a none too steady track, which made the long viaduct over the puffing steam an uneven circle in the sand. engines, and when Butch thought they were Butch was so delighted that he scarcely yet miles away, stopped at the park in St. Joe. touched the seat, but vibrated on the edge like The family had been sitting on a park seat a mechanical toy with a wabbly spring. but a few minutes when Bill and Sophie Opal leaned back in placid enjoyment-for Budzbanowsky came up. Bill led the girl once there was no baby for her to tend. And straight to Ma and said: “Mis' Flickinger, Jed tried to look as if he were not intensely Miss Budzbanowsky," and felt that he had enjoying himself. done the correct thing. Suddenly, in the midst of this general con- Sophie Budzbanowsky was a neatly tentment, the engine coughed, made several dressed, good-looking Polish girl of eighteen, uncertain lunges, and then came to a stand- with dark-brown hair and a fair complexion. still. And no amount of coaxing on the part of She worked in the knitting factory that the engineer affected the balking steam horse. crouched like a huge black monster on the “I know summat about machinery," ven- sands below the park; and so far she consid- tured Pa modestly, climbing over the side of ered Bill perfection. the car to investigate; “let me take a squint.” “I hope we don't set here on a bench all With his family looking proudly on, Pa day,” remarked Ma. found what caused the trouble, corrected it, “No law ag'in movin' on," grinned Pa. and the engine was soon puffing reluctantly “You sure must see Silver Beach," said around the track again. Sophie. “What'd you do?” inquired Ma. "We can't take it in if we set here,” de “Nothin' much; jest tinkered.” Pa spoke clared Bill, and rose and conducted them to easily, but his assumed humility was the very the lake. acme of pride. Butch, being in a foreign country, clung “You and your folks git extra rides for closely to Opal's helpin' me out,'' hand, as they made called the engineer, their way down the and they rode on and bluff and through the on; while Pa, having deep white sand to earned additional where a huge pavilion rides in so neat a spread its wing-like manner, began to roofs beside the criticize the road and waves, while tobog- tell Milo how it might gan slides, a minia- be improved. ture railroad, a noisy When at last they merry-go-round, and willingly left the baby kindred attractions railroad, it seemed as allured the public. if they had been rid- Beyond Silver Beach, ing for hours. But which was already they were caught by thronged with peo- another lure farther ple, lay Lake Michi- down the board walk. gan, a rippling semi- It was the merry-go- circle of sparkling round, and its jangl- blue. “MIS' FLICKINGER, MISS BUDZBANOWSKY." ing music ground out Bill soon trailed off a catchy tune as the with Sophie, remarking that they would be family neared it, while the gay animals flew back by dinner-time. by at giddy speed. "The first thing—and the last thing, re For some time they stood in a little member-on our program to-day,” announced group, mutely admiring this prohibited Pa, “is a ride on the baby railroad. All attraction; then the twins, Janice and Jas- hands pike that way.” per, stretched out fat arms, asking in inar- Little Stories of Real Life 703 KE "I AIN'T DROWNED!" ticulate but unmistakable baby talk for a After dinner they started out again to see ride. the sights, and tintype galleries fairly yawned Pa Flickinger silently withdrew from the with hungry jaws as they went down the family, motioning for Milo to follow. board walk. “Them kids of yourn is crazy for a turn “Oh, how I'd like a picture of the babies!” on that merry-go-round,” said remarked Sophie, who was walk- Pa. ing between Pa and Bill. “They sure is stuck on the This touched Pa. “I'd like a thing,” replied Milo, his own eyes picter of the little rats, too,” he helplessly glued on the revolving responded. hobby-horses. “Let's have 'em took,” sug- The miniature railroad had gested Bill, wishing to play the been as a sip of inspiriting liquor generous lover. “I'll pay.” to Pa, creating a desire for more "If we ever did anything like and swifter locomotion. “As a other folks, we'd have ourselves rule I'm dead ag'in merry-go- all took in a group," observed roundin' in any form,” he af- Jule, after the babies' picture was firmed; “but if I've got the finished. change, I'll take us all.” Then Pa, who until that time Jule, who had edged near, had steadfastly kept up the fic- nudged her husband, saying, tion that he was protecting his “Pay your share, Milo.” family from too much merry-go- So in a happy dream the eager rounding and from all tintyping, children and babies were bundled with their came out in his true colors, counted his loose elders on the gaudy animals for a number of change, conferred a moment with Ma, and dizzying revolutions. boldly proclaimed that he would pay for pic- The dinner, which was eaten on the beach tures for the whole gang. in the shade of the pavilion, was the crown The photographer worked quickly, hud- ing success of the day; for besides the good dling the family into a ragged group that things to eat, there were Sophie Budzban- overflowed at the edges; but every one was owsky and Bill, adding to the prosaic life of taken entire except Jed, who was represented the family the glamour of their budding only by a portion of an empty-looking sleeve. romance. The Flickingers were by this time demor- “Gimme your jack-knife," demanded Ma, alized into a regular picnic crowd out for a when it was time to cut the lemon pies. good time, trailing happily along, joking and “My knife" Pa felt in his pocket- laughing. Instinctively they made toward felt in all his pockets, then turned very the merry-go-round, and again Pa disengaged red. himself from his folks and crooked a sug- “Spit it out,” snapped Ma; “where's your gestive finger at Milo. knife?" “Mebbe the children'd like another ride," “Home-in my old clothes,” admitted Pa, hinted Pa, “and it'd be nice to have Miss crestfallen. Budzbudz — budz — Bill's girl, to go with “There never is no knife at a picnic," ob- us.” served Ma with settled pessimism. Milo cheerfully counted his change and Sophie Budzbanowsky silently slipped handed it all over to Pa with an appreciative something into Pa's hand. grin. Pa added his money to Milo's and Clearing his voice he proudly exclaimed, said that there was just enough to give them “I've found my knife!” all one ride. A sigh of relief, audible above the gentle “I dunno,” hesitated Pa, “but what it murmur of Lake Michigan, went up from looks foolish to spend our last cent. We've the waiting family. rid on the thing onct to-day.” Pa held up the penknife that Sophie had “The boss he pays our fare home,” en- lent him. couraged Milo. “If it only could do,” said Sophie anx- "If summat should happen,” argued Pa iously. weakly, “a little money wouldn't be a bad “Of course it'll do.” cried Ma, delighted, thing." and began snipping at the pie. "Nothin' can't happen if you ain't got no on pies. 704 Everybody's Magazine change,” interrupted Jule, who had been on the Spur of the Moment listening. “Here goes, then!” shouted Pa recklessly; By Fred R. Bechdolt “all hands come on!” They went gaily; Jule and Ma making a TOMMY SCOTT was a burglar. Men joke about riding on their last cent. 1 of his craft spoke of him as “fly," “I thought we'd ought to do the fair thing which means that he was skilled and bold- by Butch, seein' we brought him along,” skilled to the point of uncanny caution; bold explained Pa Flickinger to Ma. “He don't to the point of fierce recklessness. He had get to go nowheres so often.” been a burglar since he was a little boy. A As they dismounted from the last round, policeman had caught him in a candy store dazed and unsteady, they saw a crowd col- one Sunday and the judge had sent him to the lecting a short distance away at the water's reform school. There he learned the princi- edge, and started down to see what had hap- ples of the business thoroughly. Subsequently pened. he kept adding to his knowledge. His entire "A little boy's fell into the lake about the after-life was a sort of postgraduate course. size of Butchie,” said Pa, catching sight of a In prison-he served three or four terms small limp form. before he died-he spent his spare time read- “Where is Butch?” shrieked Ma; “who ing books from the library. Among these had him on the merry-go-round?”. were encyclopedias, biographies, historical The family stared blankly at one another; works, and treatises on engineering science. nobody had had Butch. Thus he became a crook of wide education, “It's Butch that's drowned,” said Bill with and doubly dangerous from a policeman's solemn bluntness. point of view. He was really a wonderful “Break away there," he growled to the man. crowd; “let his folks through.” In all his career, which embraced at the “I might 'a' knowed better,” moaned Ma time of my story two continents and thirty wildly; “I always said that some of our years, he had never trusted man nor woman. family would get drowned in Lake Michi. He was slight and short of stature, with quick. gan.” cold, blue-gray eyes. He was active as a cat, “I ain't drowned, Gra’ma,” sniffed Butch, and his ears were strangely acute. The law suddenly sitting up at the sound of her voice. he knew well so far as it applied to crimi- He had only dropped into a few inches of nals. Its officers and administrators he looked water from the railing of the pavilion, and upon as enemies, to be eluded when possible; had been pulled out so quickly that he was otherwise to be overcome. Twice he had re- scarcely wet; but seeing the strange faces sorted to this last extremity-and the result about him, he had been too frightened at first had each time brought him newspaper head- to speak or move. lines. “You ought to be cuffed,” cried Ma angrily, To him burglary was not merely a craft; it wiping her eyes. “What'd you go an’ fall was an art. In this day of electric alarms, into the water for? And what'd you run special bank watchmen, and extensively cir- away from us for, anyway? Bill, you prom culated Bertillon measurements, such men as ised to look after Butch.” Tommy Scott are growing scarce. However, “I had my eye on him-off and on--all there are still a few. day," answered Bill soberly. Times come to the best of us when things “Particularly off! I'd ruther have a go slowly. Such a time had come to Tommy n'elephant tend the twins than Bill,” scolded Scott. Not that inspiration was lacking; but Jule. circumstances made the artist idle. His deeds “And a n'elephant'd ruther do it," re- in the outside world had driven him back to torted her offended brother. the city, where, in spite of being well known, “It's been a day without a blot,” moralized he could better hide. He was occupying a Pa, as they started home a little later, room in a quiet house in the residential dis- “barrin' Butchie's mishap. We didn't ex- trict. Nightly he passed among busy crowds, actly carry out the program that was laid skilfully avoiding those officers, plain-clothed down,” he admitted, "about merry-go- and uniformed, who knew him. Hewas doing roundin' an' such, but you know, Ma, cir- nothing. And he chafed. cumstances alter folks-summat.” His fingers itched to grasp certain tools. Little Stories of Real Life 705 His ears tingled when he heard the chink of the thrill of eluding men of alert brains and money, counted by cigar-stand proprietors sharp eyes—these things had set him afire. about to close their places. Passing down. He could not withstand the call of his art. town fur stores, he looked at open transoms For though he loved the loot, it was the ac- and fell to watching the patrolman of the quirement that brought him joy, and tempted block; then fumed because he must see op- him at times when he should have remained portunity go by. And when he walked on idle. He left the district early. By midnight the hills among the homes of the rich, he was he was on his hands and knees in a third-floor tormented by glimpses of families at dinner- bedroom. tables, glimpses caught through French win- The house stood back from a street lined dows, where well-shaded porch pillars showed on either side with depressingly substantial safe and easy access to upper chambers and mansions. He had studied it casually from their jewel boxes. the outside many times. He had picked its Such things as these made him angry, and points of vantage—the proper place for a his anger naturally turned against his enemies "get-away"; the situation of the bedchambers; —the law-abiding half of the world and its the quarters of the servants; the sort of protectors. thing that men of ordinary discernment must On the particular evening of which I am have crossed the grill-barred threshold many about to tell, anger and restlessness had times to learn. He had seen a vulnerable win- driven him into a section of the city that was dow, unprotected because it was small and especially dangerous for him and his kind. high. This night the window had beckoned. This is a district where lights burn bright A bit of planking from beside a sewer ex- until dawn's coming dims them, where music cavation in the street served as his ladder. from basement halls alive with men and As he drew himself into the window he women, and from upper chambers heavy kicked this to the ground, where it lay un- with silken hangings, comes to the street in noticed when the patrolman passed. His bursts through open doors. Here men stand shoes, removed before entrance, he wore pen- in long lines before polished bars of mahog- dent from their strings about his neck. He any; and though these men may come and go, glided like a little bent shadow to the rear the lines are always there. The sidewalks are door and unlatched it; then went swiftly up crowded as long as darkness lasts, and closed the stairs—two heavily carpeted flights. carriages with drawn curtains constantly H is goal—the bedchamber of the mistress whirl mysteriously about corners. In this of the house-was near the front. He lis- district a man like Tommy Scott may always tened at the door; then entered on hands and find companionship. And knowing this, soft- knees. His ears did double duty, serving as footed, well-groomed detectives from the cen- eyes in the half-light. tral office lurk in the doorways or swagger They caught a faint stirring, the sound of a slowly through the barrooms. Their eyes are hand moving against cloth. He dropped and ever open. They wait for the lure of the lay prone, face down, on the floor. The sound place to bring those in hiding from their lairs. stopped. But the breathing that followed Tommy Scott had spent the evening here. was quick and uneven. Then came the slight To tell how he passed the men from the central noise of some one swallowing hard. No one office, unknown and unnoticed, would take ever makes this sound, asleep. too long, though it would, I doubt not, be In the flash of an eye Tommy Scott realized interesting. It would also take too long to that he must make developments, not wait tell how he helped two "peter players” to for them. He rose to his feet, his revolver in remove a chloral-steeped victim from Fisky his hand. Harriett's cellar beer-hall to the back door of “Keep quiet and don't move, or I'll shoot," Charley Jones's place and there deposit him, he said, and pulled up over his nose the hand- limp, with pockets turned inside out. Tommy kerchief that he wore loose on his throat. Scott owed this and much more to Fisky The woman swallowed hard again. But Harriett, who was a power in the ward; as she did not even plead. He watched her as Charley Jones was not. he rified the jewel box on the dresser, and then All this was too much for the burglar. bade her lie silent as he slunk from the room. The slang of the “peter players”; the thieves' He was out of the rear door before her hand gossip that he had got from Fisky Harriett could reach the electric button beside her bed. in the latter's close-curtained private office; He walked many blocks to the sand lots and 706 Everybody's Magazine buried his plunder. He hurried back almost smooth-cropped scalp. He felt the warmth of to the harbor front; then went straight up the blood on his hand, but the man eluded his steep hill toward his room. Half-way there he grasp. caught an owl car and thus avoided the trio of “It's all right,” he called loudly as he patrolmen who walked that street. heard footsteps. “Stand by in front o' the The house in which he roomed was one of house. I'll get him.” a number exactly alike in appearance. Be The thief leaped from the open window tween each and its neighbor was a scant ten as he calted, and Tommy Scott followed, mad feet of bare ground. There were no fences. with the fight that was in him and the wave As he entered his front door, Tommy Scott of hatred that had swept over him. noticed that the side window on the ground The people in the house had been too slow floor of the next house was open. This win- or too frightened to gain the front door. He dow was directly opposite that of his bed- cursed them as he ran. The bent form of his chamber. He remembered-for details never quarry was just ahead, speeding down the escaped him—that this window had never sidewalk. From behind came the beat of been open before. And the night was cool heavy footsteps. Tommy Scott heard, and with a good breeze stirring. recognized the patrolman on the block. He began to undress. He placed his re- “Come on, you," he called; "he's just volver beneath his bed, just where his hand ahead.” could drop easily to the floor. He had never The quarry dashed round a corner at the carried the weapon home before. But the call. Tommy Scott and the patrolman fol- penalty for robbery by violence goes as high lowed. In this order the three of them ran as life imprisonment. And he had just com- down two blocks, through an alley, across a mitted that crime. vacant lot, and on into the next street. The As he sat on his bed to unlace his shoes, he patrolman began to lose distance. thought over the affair. He was sorry he “Shoot him," he called. Tommy Scott had done it-for it was injudicious. He was dropped to his knee and leveled his weapon. wanted badly enough already. Yet, think He swore as the smoke cleared and he saw ing over the details, he felt satisfaction at the the other still running swiftly. He sprang to , manner in which he had carried out the rob- his feet and renewed the chase. The patrol- bery. man had gained his side now. “An’ she never opened her mout',” thought The run was beginning to tell on Tommy Tommy Scott. The woman, he knew, was Scott, even though his lungs were accustomed gray-haired and feeble. But that did not to such severe tests. His breath came short count in his business. His blue-gray eyes and pains racked his chest. His limbs grew gleamed coldly as he thought how well he heavy. He set his teeth stubbornly and had handled her. doubled his fists—the right one tightly over A long shrill scream made him leap from the handle of his revolver. He thought of the bedside—the scream of a woman in mortal the scream he had heard-shrill and carrying terror. proof of awful terror. He seized his revolver, as his landlady “You dirty thief,” he gasped, as though the rushed to his door. “It's in the next house, man whose footfalls sounded far ahead could she cried. “It's burglars." hear him; and then—"The -- prowler!” By this time Tommy Scott had run from In fresh wrath, he leaped ahead, for the the front door, revolver in hand. As he ran moment forgetting his aching limbs. For he thought of the open window opposite his the moment, too, his muscles limbered and own. the weight lifted. Abreast of him the heavy- “His get-away,” he muttered; "the — coated patrolman panted distressingly. His prowler." feet fell heavily, and he labored hard. Tom- He climbed nimbly into the window. As my Scott began to outdistance him again. he gained his feet in the dark house he saw, Far ahead glinted dully the light of red coming toward him, a dimly outlined shape, lanterns in the roadway. Trained to grasp de- and an uplifted arm, menacing. He stepped tails in a hurry, Tommy Scott realized on the to one side and bent his head as the revolver instant what they meant. He pointed to butt descended. Then, like a flash, he the lights and shouted to the patrolman; but straightened and beat downward with his own the words fell behind on the empty air. weapon. The pistol barrel glanced along a The fleeing thief was running close to the The Balance 707 inner edge of the sidewalk. Tommy Scott smoke enwrapped him. He sprang forward smiled to himself at the man's shrewdness. and found the hand that grasped the revolver. Strangely enough, no fellow feeling came to They fought over and over one another in him as he remembered that this was the the slime of the trench. And finally, after a proper thing to do. He was mad with the few seconds that seemed a long time, Tommy lust of hunting another man, a strange over- Scott felt the burglar lying beneath him, powering passion, born of savage human in- stunned and limp. He dragged the man to- stinct. ward the end of the trench and called for On the edge of a patch of blue-white light help. For his feet were slipping many ways from a corner arc-lamp, the burglar, bent at once, and it seemed to him as though all low, raced diagonally across the street. He the blood in his body had run into his legs, reached the cluster of red lanterns, and there weighting them down. His head rang with vanished, silently, as a black silhouette dis- lightness. appears from the canvas. Tommy Scott "Ye done a good job, lad.” The big looked over his shoulder—the patrolman was patrolman was fumbling for more weapons in a block away. Farther behind came the the prisoner's pockets and the prisoner was forms of other men whom the chase had rocking to and fro, dazed, on the car track. drawn into its wake. "I want ye to help me to the box wit' him.” When he reached the red lanterns Tommy While they waited for the wagon his first Scott was in sore distress. It had been a opportunity for reflection came to Tommy hard run even for him, who had distanced Scott. The hoof-beats of the horses were more than one officer in his time. His body sounding far away on the asphalt when he was all but exhausted, but his mind worked turned to the officer, removing a hand, light cool and quick. So far as his brain was con as a feather, from the crook's twisted gar- cerned his blood might have been running on ments. even pulses instead of pumping until every “I'm sick,” he said; “I'll just step 'round artery throbbed so that he could feel it. the corner for a drink o'water.” Revolver in hand he crept to the edge of The wagon had long been gone when the the excavations. Sewer connections were patrolman started in search of the prisoner's being made with a tall building, and the captor. He was not prone to deep thought, black gulf yawned in the roadway. From this patrolman. But he puzzled long over its hidden bowels came a voice, vibrant with his failure to find this other. For he had passion, and menacing: "Another step an' the fairly general habit of looking at things I'll blow yer head off!” from a single view-point, of starting from one Tommy Scott licked his lips and crouched. premise and reasoning in a straight line. That The defiance wakened his anger anew. At one character might be complex enough to once the thief's rule of doing what the im- include both a thief and a zealous captor of pulse calls for, demanded obedience. He thieves he began vaguely to understand when leaped into the blackness. the prisoner in court charged him with steal- A crash, and a blinding smother of pungenting a $10 bill from his pocket. The Balance By WITTER BYNNER I OSE your heart, you lose the maid, L It's the humor of her kind; Trim the balance to a shade, Keep your heart and keep the maid! Keep your heart, you keep the maid, But yourself you never find- Fling the balance unafraid! Find your heart and lose the maid! STRAIGHT TALK By “EVERYBODY'S" READERS If at any time there are statements in EvERYBODY'S MAGAZINE which you believe to be incorrect, or views expressed to which you take exception, or subjects discussed upon which you can throw additional light, write to us. We shall not be able to publish all the letters. Do not write at too great length. We may use excerpts from your letter and sign your initials unless otherwise instructed. For every letter which we are able to publish we will present the writer, as evidence of our appreciation and in no sense as compensation, with a year's subscription to EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, to be sent to the writer of the letter, or to any one selected by the writer.—THE EDITOR. HOPE HALL ing to trust to friends who did not pilot his course wisely, and that he would have fared better My attention has been called by some of our through Hope Hall. men in prison to an article which appeared re- The whole idea of our work has been to save the cently in your magazine. It is called “The men from the brand of “ex-convict.” A man Tragedy of the Released Convict," by I. K. going from Hope Hall is not in any sense a marked Friedman. The men within prison feel very man. His residence at our home does not put a strongly that a wrong has been done to our work, brand upon him nor draw any lines between him in which many thousands of them are deeply inter- and the outside world. Our idea has always been, ested, by the paragraph which I will quote. in finding positions for these men, to place them Speaking of a paroled convict, Mr. Friedman with good Christian business men who will keep writes as follows: their secret. If it becomes known that they are "Our paroled convict realized, too, that in hav- Hope Hall boys, it is simply because they them- ing had work secured for him by friends, he was selves have talked of their past. more fortunate than those who had to depend for We believe that one of the grave errors of the employment either on one of the bureaus sup- released prisoner in the past has been the fact that ported by the state or else on Hope Hall, which he has gone out into life under false colors. Real- owed its existence to the beneficence of the Vol- izing the prejudice in the world, he has lied to unteers of America. To Hope Hall, though it obtain a position, and indeed, in many instances, did what good it could, there were serious objec- he could not have obtained a living chance had tions, for here a man came into contact every he told the truth. Now, we do not believe in night with other ex-convicts; and if things went marking these men nor proclaiming them as wrong with him, or if he were thrown out of work, reformed prisoners, but we do believe that the he would be tempted to fall in with a comrade's first employer should know of the past, in justice suggestion that, since honesty didn't pay, it was to himself and in justice to the man. Then, should wiser to make 'easy money' by a return to crime. a detective “spot” him or should some old com- Moreover, in so far as he could see, there was panion out of spite inform against him, his em- little difference between coming from Hope Hall ployer cannot be prejudiced, for he already knows and from the penitentiary—both branded a man the facts and he will be the first to protect the man a member of the criminal class and put up hard against hounding. and fast lines between him and the outer world Now, as over five thousand men have passed where his one hope lay.” through my two Hope Halls, a large majority The paroled man of whom this story is written of them having done well, and many of them was laboring under a very unfortunate misappre- having done splendidly in their new careers, I hension and, as the story turns out, it proves feel that I can speak with authority. The only conclusively that he was most unfortunate in hav- safe way for the returning prisoner is to sail 708 Straight Talk 709 under true colors, and the precaution to be taken this matter, would it not help to solve the question is the forming of a friendship which will stand by of our future supply of cherry, walnut, oak, chest- him in the many vicissitudes of life. nut, and other kinds of timber? It will take time, A man may find that his first position is not of course, but if we begin now don't you think a suitable for him; the firm to which he goes may good start could be effected within the next twen- fail in business; or he may find perhaps that there ty-five years? M. S. T. are others working with him whose lives are such Caledonia, N. Y. that contact with them means temptation. In the case of our Hope Hall boys, they will immediately refer to us. We find for them other positions and stand by them in hours of stress and difficulty. If FROM A PRISONER'S WIFE they have not come to Hope Hall and trust merely MR. BRAND WHITLOCK. to the personal friend who has recommended Mayor of City of Toledo. them to such a position, they often find them- Dear Sir:-I want to thank you simply, kindly, selves adrift once more, as did this unfortunate for your splendid article, as seen in the May num- man whose record shows that he returned to Joliet. ber of EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, regarding the In regard to these men being subject to tempta- prison system in the United States; andif you don't tions arising from association with others while in think this presumption, I would like to urge you to Hope Hall, it should be remembered that Hope continue writing about and probing this matter Hall is not a refuge for criminals but that the ma- until the whole world must realize and recognize jority within our homes are earnest, reformed the terrible injustice of the present administration men. Instead of filling a discouraged comrade's of affairs both in the United States of America and mind with ideas of the desirability of returning to in Canada concerning the disposal of the unfortu- the old life, they would try to encourage him in nate classes “who are caught.” The most damn- his efforts and dissuade him from an evil course. ing blot on all civilization is where it is possible The men within the prison walls have spoken for man to sit in judgment on his fellow man and very strongly in their own prison paper, “The Star send him away into moral oblivion and darkness of Hope,” in contradiction to this inference made for years and years. It would be more merciful against their loyalty to the purposes and princi- if all punishment were made capital, than to send ples of the Volunteer Prison League and the Home men where they herd them as they do beasts, which so many of them look upon with loyal af- starve their bodies and slowly but surely kill their fection. souls. Can nothing be done to reform this bar- Believe me, barian practise of sending people to prison for Very cordially yours for our country's prisoners, long terms? MAUD BALLINGTON BOOTH. To-night away in Stony Mountain Peniten- 38 Cooper Square, New York. tiary my husband is undergoing the long weary sentence of seven years. I am only twenty-two years of age; four years ago we were married, and THIS IS TRUE PATRIOTISM three years of that time he has spent in prison. Last June he was discharged, and I met him in Can you not interest your readers, especially Winnipeg; we were buoyant and full of hope; but those residing in the country or on farms, in it was the same old story; we had not money taking up the matter of planting trees so that enough to leave the locality of his first offense; no there may be a future supply of timber suitable for matter where we went, we were always recognized lumber? by those vigilant servants of the law; like the poor, I understand that some of the railroads are they are always with us. It was, “What are buying up old abandoned farms and lands that you doing here? You had better move on. We have ceased to be useful for cultivation, and re- don't want you here.” If work was obtained it planting them for timber supplies in the years to was only a matter of weeks, sometimes only days, come. until the superintendent, or man in charge, would Without doubt there are thousands of farms come to my husband and say in conciliatory tone: everywhere throughout the country whose owners “Well, F ..., we are very sorry but we have could be interested in reforesting their lands. I heard, and you know for the sake of the business am sure there is scarcely a farm but has some we cannot have you here.” Hard toil was out of portion that could be utilized for tree planting, the question; prison life makes sure of that. some hilly field, or wet pasture, or stony lot, that What spirit had not been destroyed by the incar- is practically of no value to the farm. Why could ceration died within him, and, as it were, he was this not be reset with suitable trees? I knew of a forced back to the old life. One night, with a maiden lady in New Hampshire who had a hill lot companion (who had also just finished a term at that could not be cultivated, on which she planted the same retreat), he burglarized a house to the acorns with the full expectation of having an oak extent of fifty dollars, and they sent my husband grove there some day; and why not? back to Stony Mountain for seven years. If all of our land owners could be interested in And now listen as to how they deal out so- 710 Everybody's Magazine called justice here. Several weeks later, his com- realize the importance of having students sit in panion was also caught and brought up on the the correct position when studying? Undoubt- same charge, and they sent him to the common edly emphasis on this matter would help greatly. jail for three months. Singular code of fairness At all events, we must do something. What can this. They were both repeaters, both on the you suggest ? E. R. A. same charge, yet one goes down for three months Detroit, Mich. and the other for seven years. And why? Be- cause one had money to get a lawyer and the other-well, you understand. And this, at least PRISONS NECESSARY in Canada, is a fair illustration of what they call I READ with a great deal of interest, as many justice. The drunkard and criminal of all grades thousands of your readers must have done, Mr. are kept where they are by the conditions made by Brand Whitlock's article, “What Good Does It the no less drunken and criminal men in power. Do?” published in a recent number of EVERY- The salvation of the world must be the religion BODY's. of Love, not Fear. Mr. Whitlock, teach men That Mr. Whitlock is evidently sincere in his that they are brothers and you will do more for hatred of our penal and correctional system, the world than all the Carnegie libraries or there can be no doubt, but does he supply a rea- churches either, for those that need help do not sonable and practicable remedy for the system he go to church. So scathingly attacks and condemns? Again thanking you for having voiced your Mr. Whitlock admits the necessity for crim- opinions on the subject, I am always, inal courts and prisons; near the end of his Your sincere friend, article, after denying the right of society to in- • ONE ON WHOM THIS BLIGHTING CURSE flict punishment on any of its members, he says, HAS FALLEN. “All that society has a right to do is to protect Toronto, May 12, 1907. itself by restraining those of proved dangerous tendencies.” With that statement his expressed idea that courts and prisons are wrong in theory THE HEALTH OF SCHOOL CHILDREN and practise, must fall. How can society know who of its members have proved dangerous ten- For some time past I have viewed with alarm dencies unless society itself sits in judgment? the rapidly increasing number of sickly school Therefore we have courts. How can society re- children, and as a result I have devoted a great strain those of proved dangerous tendencies un- deal of time and thought to an effort to devise or less society by physical force places them under suggest something that will ameliorate this condi- restraint? Therefore we have prisons. tion. Surely no one will gainsay the need of im- Instead of attacking the evils that exist in the provement in this direction. The number of system of courts and prisons, Mr. Whitlock at- children whose eyesight is defective is appalling. tacks the system itself, though he admits the ne- Recently out of 60,000 school children examined cessity for it. From his article one would sup- in New York City, 20,000 were found to have pose that all society out of prison hated or was imperfect vision. indifferent to its unfortunate members in prison How many of our children are round-shoul- and took delight in placing and keeping them dered and have contracted chests! What is the there. That the prisons were filled with persons reason for this? I believe the way students are whose only crime was poverty. That every per- allowed to sit at their desks has a great deal to do son connected with a court of law, from the judge with this condition. It is only too evident to on the bench to the janitor who cleaned it, took teachers, and those who have the opportunity of personal pleasure in punishing fellow human seeing children in school, that very few, indeed, beings. Mr. Whitlock complains that judges sit erect in their seats. The position they assume become hardened. Hardened - No. Accus- and retain for five hours a day certainly tends to tomed-Yes. The experienced judge is better make them round-shouldered. Not only that, able to bear the horror and pity of crime than the but the eyes are affected because their heads are young law student. So is the experienced sur- not held erect, and the focal distance to their work geon who saves hundreds of lives a year better is not the same for both eyes. How often do we able to bear the horror and pity of blood than the see students with books on their knees or in their young medical student at his first clinic. Shall we laps. Could any position be more detrimental to therefore abolish surgery? their general health? To me, as to Mr. Whitlock, one of the saddest A great many instances similar to the above sights in the world is the interior of a police court, could be enumerated, but the ones mentioned but I cannot help feeling inspired by the personal should suffice to make parents and those inter- knowledge that usually the man on the bench is ested give this important matter their earnest conscientiously doing his best in his arduous duty consideration. to society on the one hand and to the unfortunate The question is—what can we do to improve ore before him on the other. these conditions? Can teachers be brought to Abolish the courts and prisons, policemen then Straight Talk 711 become almost figureheads. Their power of ar- rest is gone. Imagine the resulting automobile accidents on Fifth Avenue alone. Automobilists as a class can hardly be said to be poverty stricken or to have proved dangerous tendencies, and yet experience shows we must have policemen and courts and prisons to keep automobilists in rea- sonable check. No, when all is said and done Mr. Whitlock reaches blindly for the impossible. He states that society punishes for the sake of punishment, ig- noring throughout his article the tremendous re- forms and progress which are accomplished facts, not •theories. The intelligent extension of the probation system is but one of a hundred in- stances. It is made possible by the efforts of thousands of noble men and women throughout the country who scientifically study the courts and prisons with a view to correcting their existing defects and evils instead of applying wholesale abuse and condemnation to a system necessary for poor human nature. T. F. S. New York. idea run away with you so fast as to rattle you. Do not help an agitation that is already too ex- cited. State legislatures seem to forget that in passing laws to punish lines that may really de- serve punishment, they are also insuring those lines against competition. It may be you are really only after increased circulation, and that by shouting the popular cry the loudest, you may get it. If so, of course there is nothing to be said. But if you want to lead rather than follow, while it sounds contradictory, I believe the way to lead now is by putting on the brakes and going slow. S. M. Avery Island, La. SMALL vs. BIG STORES I HAVE carefully read your article on "The Department Store at Close Range." It is written in the interest of the “big stores," and is most un- fair, misleading, and inaccurate. Said stores are “fooling the people all the time.” EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE is supposed to be fair and generally against trusts (which these stores substantially are; carrying on the business on the principles of the Standard Oil Company). Will you publish some facts showing how the public are cheated and deluded, and proving that they are better served by small stores? The sham of the big stores, their special sales and bargains, ought to be exposed; will you do it, or some other maga- zine? On page 316 you say that the department stores' profit is “only the cash discount"; your contrib- utor, Hartley Davis, evidently has not tried to learn facts or he would have learned that some of the big stores are “slow pay” and do not take ad- vantage of discounts for this and much more he has drawn on his imagination. A customer will be more fairly treated in the small stores and, with the exception of “fakes,” get the same goods for less money there. T. S. Springfield, Mass. PUT ON THE BRAKES JUDGING by your recent articles on overcapitali- zation, you seem to be willing to stand responsible for calling it a steal to increase capitalization. , Let me ask you: If you were now to sell stock in EVERYBODY's, and make it a regular stock company, would you be in any way governed or influenced by the price paid for the magazine by the present owners? Why should you? If you now set a higher value on the property, would you consider others justified in calling the present owners thieves? Mr. Harriman may be no better morally than a dealer in gold bricks. But though he may be truly a thief, all railroad men are not necessarily also thieves. As a body, they are honorable men, even as you and I, and their methods are not all to be condemned, merely because at the moment one of the most prominent cares more for personal gain than for public good. Even the Southern Pacific has good men who work for it, and do what they can within their powers to help the people unfortunate enough to depend on it wholly for transportation. This agitation against railroads, and inciden- tally against all great combinations of wealth and power, is doing great injury to many who are hon- estly trying to build up industries. What we need in the section where I am writing is more rail- roads, more competition in transportation facili- ties. Present conditions only discourage every attempt to obtain relief, and, while making it prac- tically impossible to obtain subscriptions to stock in competing lines, also lessen the efficiency, while forever tending to strengthen the monopoly, of ex- isting powerful combinations. There is always another side. Do not let an THE SEAMY SIDE OF THE CURTAIN I am always interested in articles upon the stage, and, I may add, usually disgusted by them. So often they remind me of stories of “high society”-the doings of Sir Harold and Lady Gwendolyn-as written for a public of maid servants and factory girls. The writers seem to have that same cheap, false-colored, hysterical imagination — that evident lack of knowledge which makes an article so tawdry. So it was with the greatest pleasure that I read Mr. Elmer B. Harris's “The Seamy Side of the Curtain” in the August EVERYBODY's. Its re- straint and fidelity were excellent, and yet the writer did not lose sight of the humorous and picturesque. I know it must be interesting to the outsider. To 1712 Everybody's Magazine me it brought that curious little "pang" that the odor of grease paint does or the sound of the orchestra going out to their places-or a load of scenery going through the streets. M. N. With Mr. Tim Murphy, en route. the same proportionate shape, and that all birds are equipped with the same power of flight-both assumptions being correct only in a very general way–we have the following equation for deter- mining their wing area: The wing surface in square feet equals the square of the cube root of twice the weight in pounds. If we apply this law to some of the birds as given in the table of wing areas in Mr. Bolce's article, we obtain the following figures: NAME Weight in lbs, Actual Wing Theoretical Surface Wing Sur- in sq. ft. face. Sq. ft. 0.33 0.619 6.776 0.92 2.80 “THE ADVENTURER” PRAISED “The Adventurer" is all right. As we say out here in California, it is a "find." Your “Little Stories of Real Life" are very good reading, your articles are above the standard, but what we want is a rattling good story, not too short, that will keep us from becoming drowsy while we are reading it, and will act as a tonic for overworked nerves when the reader picks it up in the evening, after a hard day's work. We have found such a story. It is “The Adventurer.” We are hard to please out here-indeed, East- erners think we are too independent; but if we are critical, we also know when we have found some- thing worth while, and are not slow to say so. And “The Adventurer” is worth while. Mr. Editor, we want more of its kind. H. W. LaD. Hermon, Cal. Screech-Owl..... Black-Headed Gulll Fish-Hawk...... Turkey-Buzzard.. Griffin-Vulture...! Condor. ........ 5.60 16.52 16.52 0.757 1.00 3.13 5.00 10.24 10.24 11.38 THE MYSTERY OF BIRD FLIGHT In the excellent article on “The Mystery of Bird Flight,” by Harold Bolce, in EVERYBODY'S for August, allusion is made to the fact that the size of the wings decreases in proportion to the increase in size of the body of the flying creature, and it is called "a most puzzling paradox, per- haps the most mysterious of the enigmas of bird flight.” As the solution of the problem of aerial naviga- tion depends largely on an accurate knowledge of the principles governing bird flight, and as the problem is daily becoming of greater popular in- terest, it may be well to state that the proportion of wing surface to weight follows a very simple and easily understood law. The sustaining power of the wings depends not on their area, but on their displacement. If we take two wings of equal width, but one double the length of the other, and move them through the segment of a circle, the larger one will dis- place four times the air that is displaced by the shorter one. But if we keep the wings of equal length, but have one double the width of the other, the wider one will displace only twice as much air as the narrower one. The sustaining power, therefore, varies directly with the width of the wing, but varies as the square of the length. If we assume that the wings of all birds are of Mr. Bolce states that "the Australian crane, for instance, weighs over three hundred times more than the sparrow, but in proportion has only one-seventh of the wing area of the smaller bird." Under this law, with a wing area of only one-sev- enth proportionately, it should weigh 343 times more. Mr. Bolce also states that “the stork weighs eight times more than the pigeon but in propor- tion has only half as much wing surface." This agrees exactly with this law. I do not know whether this law governing wing areas is known to others studying aerial naviga- tion. I found it necessary to reduce it to a definite formula in my investigations. Applying this law to human flight, if man should equip himself with artificial wings, and the combined weight of man and wings should be 200 pounds, he would need a wing surface of 54.17 square feet. A flying machine weighing 2,000 pounds would require a wing area of 250 square feet. H. R. New York. A HAPPY HOOLIGAN DOG I WANT to thank your artists and your writers for the story of “Alexander" in your September magazine. It is unapproachable. The expres- sion on the dog's face, that Happy Hooligan dog; from sitting on the torn umbrella, with a piece in his mouth, to looking out from under the barn!-and the knowing look of the cock! There is no nature faking in “Alexander.” Your mag- azine is good from the first page to the last, from Roosevelt to Alexander. E. E. B. Elk Grove, Cal. FLEMIN A Row of Books By JOHAN BARRETT A FEW weeks ago I spent a night in a small he thereupon sat him down quickly and wrote manufacturing city in New England, and in “Anna, the Adventuress," whereby he made unto walking about after dinner I came upon a crowd himself friends of the mammon of unrighteous- packed ten deep about an itinerant merchant who ness and was received into their houses. Nor had set up a small rostrum under a glaring torch. has he ever lost the entrée. He has, instead, As I stopped to listen, he was saying: “And developed into one of the most consistent per- friends, just to show you that I am no miser, I formers in the ring, and his latest story is always am slipping into the box with this five-dollar a safe selection when one is in search of polite stylographic pen an extra nib, solid gold, worth a excitement. “The Lost Leader” (Little, Brown), dollar and a half; and a vial of this indelible like “The Betrayal” and several others of Mr. marking fluid; and this set of quadruple plate, Oppenheim's novels, is a story of English politics, patent detachable shirt studs; and," I did not or, to be more correct, since it bears the same re- wait to hear the full list of his generosity. But I lation to real life as does a melodrama staged by smiled as I turned away, because I had just Daly, it has to do with cabinet ministers, leaders finished “Satan Sanderson” (Bobbs-Merrill), by of the opposition, an influential duchess, and Hallie Erminie Rives. And she, in addition to a Machiavellian intrigue. The author has the blind heroine who, ten minutes after marrying magnetism of the born story-teller; he writes the villain, recovers her sight and mistakes the always well within his powers, and he is sure hero for her husband, had slipped into the plot both of himself in his chosen rôle and of his (as a guaranty of good measure), one case of audience, such as it is. double personality; one complete loss of memory; one set of mistaken identities, founded upon duplicate countenances carelessly issued by Dame Nature; one poker game played upon the Mr. Forman, on the other hand, began with no communion table for a man's soul; one mysterious more serious intent than that of voicing his very murder, and one vicarious atonement. I dare genuine and very delightful sense of sentiment, say that ten per cent. of the population of Clinton, his artistic appreciation of youth, and his con- Massachusetts, is to-day signing the pay-roll with viction that this is a good world to live and love stylographic pens; and doubtless a new printing in. He, too, was endowed with the story-teller's of "Satan Sanderson” will be announced in the magnetism. “Journey's End” gained him the near future. Competition is assuredly a great public's attention and “Tommy Carteret” satis- civilizer. fied it that he had found his métier. But Mr. Forman refuses to see it so. He is determined to be tragic. He is, indeed, very like a master of Mr. E. Phillips Oppenheim and Mr. Justus the piccolo who insists upon performing on the Miles Forman are two popular writers in whose bass viol. And in “Buchanan's Wife," and respective employment of their talents one sees now in "A Stumbling Block” (Harper), we find exemplified the wisdom of the children of this him busy breaking the butterfly of his talent upon world and the unwisdom of the children of light. the wheel of his ambition. “A Stumbling Block” Mr. Oppenheim began his career by writing is the story of a young writer in whom one cannot “Enoch Strone," a creditable attempt at serious but trace a resemblance to Mr. Forman himself. fiction which, however, bored the many without Certainly Davie Rivers writes real Forman especially edifying the few. Mr. Oppenheim fiction and faces life with the true Forman spirit. apparently took the hint of its small success, for He gets into trouble, however, not by writing the 713 114 Everybody's Magazine wrong kind of books, but by marrying the wrong woman, and it is in trying to extricate him that Mr. Forman lapses into tragedy. Now, the truth is that none but seers and pessimists can afford to be tragic, and, at that, the pessimist generally makes a mess of it. We wish Mr. Forman would come back home. small tempest in the critical teapot. But his “Nineveh, and Other Poems" (Moffat, Yard), only serves to place him, very definitely, in the cellar school. Indeed, so far from being modern, or from offering any hope of the resuscitation of Cock Robin, Mr. Vierick is really medieval. They say that, biologically speaking, each in- dividual rehearses in his own person the history of the race. If this is true artistically, Mr. Vierick has reached the stage of morbid develop- ment represented by an eleventh century monk. The greater part of his verse is devoted to gloating over visions of St. Anthony temptations and to accusing Mother Eve of having bribed the serpent to offer her the apple. This sort of thing is hardly calculated to get much of a grip on the practical idealism of the twentieth century. practical ideali: Before we bid a none too sorrowful farewell to the fiction of the summer season, there are a couple of its novels that may easily have escaped notice in the crowd and that are each worth a word of commendation; one for its amused but appreciative sizing up of an attractive weakling, and the other for its open-hearth, hammer-and- anvil forging of a situation peculiarly recalcitrant to modern handling. The first of these is by Jean Wardle and is called, most happily, “The Artistic Temperament” (McClure, Phillips). It deals with a social and amatory crisis in the career of a young London painter; a situation sufficiently commonplace and sordid were it dealt with as mere realism, but saved and savored by the author's nice discrimination between the inherent weakness of her characters and the humor of their self-deception. The other is “The Penalty” (Dodd, Mead), by Harold Begbie. It is a story whose dramatic impulses spring from religious convictions, and is rather remarkable in that it makes good on these lines in a day when religious convictions are seldom dramatic. The plot, the successive scenes of its rapid unfolding, the underlying atmosphere of the story itself, are all near to being vociferous and are close to the border line of poor taste. But they are held in subor- dination by the adequacy of the characters whom Mr. Begbie has created for the several róles. In he plot is like a red gown, saved from conspicuity by the way in which it is worn. Biographies are like muskmelons. There are few things better than a fine one, but they run poor so much of the time that one gets tired open- ing them, not to mention paying for them. But they have the advantage that, since we may par- take of one without consuming it, we can exclaim, “My, but this is a good biography!" without appearing selfish. The “Life and Letters of Edwin Lawrence Godkin” (Macmillan) is worth exclaiming over and worth partaking of. Mr. Godkin was one of those Irishmen who wielded the pen as boldly, as skilfully, and as joyously as others of his countrymen wield the shillalah. There were few questions upon which he did not take sides; there never was but one side of any question for him; and for over forty years, in the columns of The Nation and of the Evening Post, he pitted his judgment against all comers and left his adopted country in his debt. Mr. Rollo Ogden, the editor of the present work, found him- self faced by a dilemma and confronted with an opportunity. He had to bring us into touch either with the intellectual or with the personal side of Mr. Godkin's career; and he chose the former. With the mass of Mr. Godkin's written criticism, con- troversy, and comment before him, he saw that he had the chance, instead of writing his life, to edit his memoirs; and he embraced the chance. The result passes in review for us, through the medium of a cool, keen, and aggressive mentality, most of the prominent men and most of the big issues of the past sixty years. It would really be a very interesting thing if some adequately clear-eyed critic would under- take, quite seriously and simply, to explain the estrangement, apparently due to incompatibility of temper, that has arisen between poetry and modern thought. It has some connection, one is inclined to believe, with the fact that we live in an age that is so enamored of definite answers that it names most of its new religions "sciences.” In other words, if we ask “Who killed Cock Robin?” we rather expect to hear“I, said Charles Darwin.” Of course, every once and again, we hear great things about some new poet. But they are mostly, come to examine them, cases of arrested development; hold-overs from the past, sprouting rather obnoxiously, like potatoes kept too long in the cellar. Just now it is George Sylvester Vierick who, by the rather gorgeous efflorescence of his decay, is the exciting cause of a There are some books that one is, in a sense, constrained to speak of for the paradoxical reason that there is little to say of them. This is the case with Robert Hichens's new story, “Bar- bary Sheep” (Harper). It is an acceptably en- tertaining short story of a capricious and spoiled beauty's midwinter madness in the Algerian desert. But it is more of a curtain raiser than a novel, and, so considered, it achieves its effect of A Row of Books 1715 Grimm, Helvetius, Turgot, Beaumarchais and Condorcet. Decidedly the séance is worth sitting through. glamour and solemnity more from the stage setting than from the acting. Indeed, the one conscious memory that one carries away from it is its picture of the desert at night; vast, pulsating, cosmic. Had it preceded “The Garden of Allah," however, or if it bore the name of Jones upon the title-page, we should not be asking each other what we thought of it. It follows that our real interest is in Mr. Hichens, and “Barbary Sheep,” by its very sketchiness, enables us to put our finger upon a fact that we have all felt more or less in his more important work without ascrib- ing to it its real value and its actual power of limitation. Mr. Hichens, allowing for the differ- ence between the North and the South, and be- tween the analytical bias of to-day and the senti- mental bias of twenty years ago, is the logical successor of William Black. He is a novelist of sorts, but he is more especially an artist who, although his medium is words instead of pig- ments, is essentially a colorist. His artistic merit lies in the fact that he explains his characters by his landscapes, while Black only made of the one a valid excuse for introducing the other. OTHER BOOKS “The American Idea” (A. S. Barnes). An informed and rational discussion of the ideals and conditions that have led to the cry of “Race Suicide.” An interesting book, by Lydia K. Commander. "The Brass Bowl” (Bobbs-Merrill). A bright, romantic detective story with more romance than detection. All quite unlikely and entertaining. Written by Joseph Vance. “Bachelor Betty” (Dutton). A young Aus- tralian's account of writing for a living in London. A fresh, unpretentious, and enjoyable story by Winifred James. "Fräulein Schmidt and Mr. Anstruther” (Scribner). Letters from a jilted fräulein to a re- pentant jilter, by the author of “Elizabeth and Her German Garden.” Low-grade ore. A great deal of reading for a very small clean-up. “John Bull's Other Island” and “Major Bar- bara” (Brentano's). Two of George Bernard Shaw's plays, published with clever introductory essays which, as usual, are well worth reading. “Abe Martin” (Bobbs-Merrill). A book of misspelled Indiana aphorisms and humor by a new Artemus Ward named Kin Hubbard. A good deal of it is genuinely funny. I had lived several months with S. G. Tallen- tyre's volume of essays, “The Friends of Voltaire" i (Putnam), facing me from the shelf, before find- ing the mood to dip into what might prove to be another grist of literary gossip about dead writers. For the mills that produce this particular kind of grist for market, though they grind not slowly, do assuredly grind exceeding small, and their output, while filling for the price, is far from nourishing. There are doubtless others who, through a like hesitancy, are by the way of missing a considerable treat. For, having finally opened the book in dubious inquiry, one stays to finish it with growing enjoyment. This author is one of those searchers of the past whose quest is living personalities, not dead facts. She he has a trenchant style and a radically construct- ive imagination; offering us, not the pros and cons of historical evidence, but her own conclu- sions, personified. In short, she has something of the "medium" about her, and, in a sense, materializes for us the spirits of the brilliant coterie with which she deals: of D'Alembert, Diderot, Galiani, Vauvenargues, d'Holbach, "Three Weeks” (Duffield). A study, by Elinor Glyn, of a young Englishman's love for a great lady who was "beyond ordinary morality.” Not to be mentioned before the young person." "England and the English, an Interpretation" (McClure, Phillips). A volume of impressionism, chat, gossip, and what not. exceedingly well done, by Ford Madox Hueffer. “The House of Quiet” (Dutton). One of A. C. Benson's delightful studies of type, done in an autobiographical form. The supposed writer is a man of some ambition and culture, forced into invalidism. Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree EDITOR'S NOTE.- A good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. Our read- ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. Though the sign is the Chestnut Tree, no story is barred by its youth. The younger the better. We shall gladly pay for available ones. Address all manuscripts to “The Chestnut Tree.” The old housekeeper met the master at the door. “If you please, sir, the cat has had chickens.” “Nonsense,” he laughed. “You mean kittens, Mary. Cats don't have chickens." “Well,” inquired Mary, "was them kittens or was them chickens that you brought home last and brought him to the ground, burying his knees deep into the sawyer's chest. Biff! Bang! Thump! Biff! “There,” he said, letting him have one parting blow square on the nose, “now m'bbe ye'll let the little felly hev it!” night?" “Why, they were chickens, of course." “Jus' so, sir. Well, the cat's had 'em." A Congressman's secretary, thinking he heard burglars in the house, woke the Congressman. "Sir, sir," he whispered sharply, “there are burglars in the house!” The Congressman stirred uneasily in his sleep. “Well," he mumbled drowsily, so there are in the Senate.” “Sir," said the bank president to a clerk whose face showed a three days' growth of beard, "you will have to get shaved.” “But, sir,” protested the clerk, “I am growing a beard.” "Do what you like at home," snapped the president, “but I'll have you understand that you can't grow a beard during office hours." A big, burly, fierce-looking man and a meek, inoffensive-looking little chap were sawing timber with a cross-cut saw. A strapping Irishman, passing that way, stopped to watch them. Back and forth, back and forth, they pulled at the saw. Finally, the Irishman could stand it no longer. With a whoop and a yell he rushed at the big man "I don't want to be too hard on this dangerous contrivance of yours," said Lincoln Beachy, the aeronaut, in criticizing the airship of a rival. “It's a bad affair from every standpoint, but I'm willing to let it down as easy as the man did the careless barber. “The barber had evidently been out late the night before, for his hand was shaky and he cut his patron's cheek four times. After each offense he said, as he sponged off the blood, 'Oh, dear me, how careless!' and let it go at that. “The patron said nothing, but when the shave was over he went to the water-cooler and filled his mouth with water. Then, with tightly com- 716 1718 Everybody's Magazine second year my two little boys made up their minds to get a taste of one anyhow, so they took turns carryin' one along with the vine and But his companions had already started toward the bar-room door. looked up for himself. Even Cleveland's patience had an end. One day as his friend entered he remarked: "There are my books. Help yourself to them. You can look up your own case.". The lazy lawyer stared at him in amazement. “See here, Grover Cleveland,” he said in- dignantly, “I want you to understand that you and your old books can go to thunder. You know very well that I don't read law. I practise entirely by ear.” “Please, mum," began the aged hero in ap- pealing tones, as he stood at the kitchen-door on washday, “I've lost my leg— " “Well, I ain't got it,” snapped the woman, slamming the door. “What little boy can tell me the difference between the 'quick and the dead'?” asked the Sunday-school teacher. Willie waved his hand frantically. "Well. Willie?" “Please, ma'am, the 'quick’ are the ones that get out of the way of automobiles; the ones that don't are the dead.'” A wealthy man, revisiting his native village, was telling his old cronies around the store stove how he had achieved his great success. At the close of his recital an old village character that he had known as a boy entered. "How are you, Tom?” said the great man, holding out his hand. “And how have you been getting along all these years?" The old fellow shifted his quid and spat. “Wa'al,” he said, “when I hit this town more'n forty years ago I didn't have a red cent, an' now—wa'al, I guess I'm holdin' my own all right." A colored parson, calling upon one of his flock, found the object of his visit out in the back yard working among his hen-coops. He noticed with surprise that there were no chickens. "Why, Brudder Brown,” he asked, “whar'r all yo'chickens?" "Huh,” grunted Brother Brown without look- ing up, "some fool niggah lef' de do' open an' dey all went home." A traveler, finding that he had a couple of hours in Dublin, called a cab and told the driver to drive him around for two hours. At first all went well, but soon the driver began to whip up his horse so that they narrowly escaped several collisions. “What's the matter?” demanded the passen- ger. “Why are you driving so recklessly? I'm in no hurry." “Ah, g'wan wid yez," retorted the cabby. “D'ye think thot I'm goin' to put in me whole day drivin' ye around for two hours? Gitap!” A sickly lady, who was visiting a Minnesota health resort on the advice of her physician, was seated at the table next to a ruddy-faced, robust- looking young man. "Have you improved much since you came here?” the lady asked. “Wonderfully, ma'am,” replied the young man. “And were you in very bad health when you came?” she persisted. “Bad health? Why, ma'am, when I first came here I was probably the weakest person you ever saw. I had practically no use of my limbs nor the use of a single faculty.” "Dear, dear! And you lived?” “I certainly did, ma'am, although you really have no idea of how bad I was when I first arrived. I was absolutely dependent upon others for every- thing, being entirely without power to help my- self. But I commenced to gain immediately upon my arrival, and haven't experienced a serious setback since.” “Wonderful, wonderful!” murmured the lady. “But do you think that your lungs were really affected?" “Well, I suppose you'd call them sound, but they were possessed of so little vitality that if it hadn't been for the most careful nursing they'd probably have ceased their functions entirely." “I trust you found kind friends here, sir?" “Indeed I did, ma'am. It is to them and to the pure air of Minnesota that I owe my life. My father's family were with me, but, unfor- tunately, my mother was prostrated with a severe illness during the time of my greatest weakness.” “How sad! Surely, sir, you must have been greatly reduced in flesh when you arrived here?” “Yes, ma'am. They tell me that I only weighed nine pounds at the time of my birth here." When Grover Cleveland was practising law in Buffalo one of his friends was a lazy young lawyer who was forever pestering him with questions about legal points that he could just as well have Everybody imuagazime PUBLISHED BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY Erman J. Ridgway, President John O'Hara Cosgrave Wm. L. JENNINGS, Sec'y and Treas. Ray Brown, Art Director Editor Robert FROTHINGHAM, Ado. Mgr. 31 EAST 17TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY With “Everybody's" Publishers S IF you had a magazine, what would you print in it? There's a question for our readers. Secretly, most people think they could make a better newspaper than their favorite daily. At least they could correct its obvious defects. And a daily has to be brought out 365 times a year. The man who believes he could run an abler daily than its editors would make a nouthful of a magazine that has but one appearance every month. Tust twelve magazines a year, and everyone knows that the stories and articles to put in it come in Uncle Sam's mail-bag. Too easy, say all the host of stern critics whose habit it is to comment on the defects of institutions with which they come in contact. We don't take quite this view of our work here in EVERYBODY's, but we are well aware that there are scores of able persons among our readers who feel that if they were in our shoes they could show us a thing or two. We work pretty hard to do as well as we do, and-be- tween us and you—we think we are doing rather nicely, but distinctly there are people who don't agree with us. Some of you will recall our September number. It had an article on the Peace Conference by Vance Thompson, an article on Department Stores by Hartley Davis. The President of the United States replied to Dr. Long. There was a story by May Sinclair, who wrote “The Divine Fire,” besides half a dozen yarns, including a dog story, a horse story, and some other things. Apart from our trouble in assembling these features, they actually cost us a pretty penny in real money. It was one of the most ex- pensive issues of the year. A week later this letter came in the mail: CUPERTINO, CAL. Mr. Editor: How could you ever have been in- duced to accept and publish such abominable trash as this September EVERYBODY'S contains, from cover to editorials? The only possible explanation to my mind is that you got “back to the grind" too soon from your summer vacation and that you are suffering and want us to suffer from your absorp- tion of the summer-girl and Cholly-Tennis fever, which conduces to softening of the brain. Reform or you're lost. The "artist" who perpetrated the cover ought to be shot, or, better, made to seek cover with “Alexander.” Cannot some of those silly writers be brought to time, or snuffed out? Really, it is a crime to make up such a conglomera- tion and call it a magazine worth fifteen cents. I am suffering with a spell of mental and physical in- digestion brought on by this awful September hash that I've been obliged to feed upon. Obliged, because I live ten miles out of town and depend upon the old and reliable magazine that I have known to fill the void that country life always con- tains. Please tell our President that it is not polite or Christian to knock a real man or use his name in such a way as he uses Mr. Long's. May God bless you and restore you to health and poise again. Most sincerely, E. G. C. Isn't that a scorcher? This lady found nothing good in any of our 144 pages, and ob- viously she is sincere in her strictures. She says we didn't make good, and she is sure about it. When some one person feels strongly enough about a thing to express con- demnation so sternly, depend upon it that there are scores of others who agree but who won't take the pains to express their censure. When we read this letter—and all of us did—we proceeded to look into ourselves and ask questions. We have no divine right to edit EVERYBODY's. We can't make anyone read it. Ours is chiefly a news-stand circulation, and we have to make every number so attract- ive and interesting that you'll feel bound to 719 DET 146 STE lo hristmas COSY 1906 WM. BALFOVR KER Copyright, 1907, by Wm. Balfour Ker. THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN HOME. III. LOVE AMONG THE RUINS-THE FIRST PIE. I verybody's Jagazine VOL XVI Christwas 1907 NOVA happray bu Eleanor Hallowell Abbott Illustrated by Emilie Benson Knipe T was not you, yourself, who invented gaunt old clock that loomed in the darker- your Happy-Day. It was your Father, most corner of the alcove. You could not long ago in little-lad time, when a tiptoe to the candy box without plunging Happy-Day or a Wooden Soldier or headlong into a stratum of creakiness that High Heaven itself lay equally tame puckered your spine as though an electric and giftable in the cuddling, curving devil were pulling the very last basting thread hollow of a Father's hand. out of your little soul. Oh, it must have been Your Father must have been a very a very, very aged room. The darkness was great Genius. How else could he have abhorrent to you. The dampness reeked invented any happy thing in the black with the stale, sad breath of ancient storms. oak library? Worst of all, blood-red curtains clotted at the The black-oak library was a cross- windows; rusty swords and daggers hung looking room, dingy, lowering, and al- most imminently from the walls, and along together boggy. You could not stamp the smutted hearth a huge, moth-eaten tiger your boot across the threshold with skin humped up its head in really terrible out joggling the heart-beats out of the ferocity. Copyright, 1907, by The Ridgway Company. All rights reserved. Through all the room there was no lively chair and pushed you way out on his knees spot except the fireplace itself. and scrunched your cheeks in his hands and Usually, white birch logs flamed on the ate your face all up with his big eyes. When hearth with pleasant, crackling cheerfulness, he spoke at last, his voice was way down deep but on this special day you noted with alarm like a bass drum. that between the gleaming andirons a soft, “Little Boy Jack," he said, "you must red-leather book writhed and bubbled with never, never, never forget your Dear Mother!” little gray wisps of pain, while out of a charry, His words and the bir-r-r of them shook smoochy mass of nothingness a blue-flowered you like a leaf. muslin sleeve stretched pleadingly toward “But what was my Dear Mother like?” you for an instant, shuddered, blazed, and you whimpered. You had never seen your was-gone. Mother. It was there that your Father caught you, Then your Father jumped up and walked with that funny, strange sniff of havoc in your hard on the creaky floor. When he turned nostrils. round again, his eyes were all wet and shiny It was there that your Father told you his like a brown stained-glass window. news. “What was your Dear Mother like?” he When you are only a little, little boy and repeated. “Your Dear Mother was like- your Father snatches you suddenly up in his was like—the flash of a white wing across a arms and tells you that he is going to be stormy sea. And your Dear Mother's name married again, it is very astonishing. You was 'Clarice.' I give it to you for a Memo- had always supposed that your Father was rial. What better Memorial could a little boy perfectly married! In the dazzling sunshine have than his Dear Mother's name? And of the village church was there not a thrilly there is a date—" His voice grew suddenly blue window that said quite distinctly, “Clar- harsh and hard like iron, and his lips puckered ice Val Dere” (that was your Mother) on his words as with a taste of rust- "there “Lived” (Lived, it said!) “June, 1860-De- is a date—the 26th of April — No, that is cember, 1880"? All the other windows said too hard a date for a little boy's memory! “Died” on them. Why should your Father It was a Thursday. I give you Thursday for marry again? your-Happy-Day. 'Clarice' for a Memo- In your Dear Father's arms you gasped, rial, and Thursday for your Happy-Day.” “Going to be married?” and your two eyes His words began to beat on you like blows. must have popped right out of your head, “As-long-as-you-live,” he cried, “be for your Father stooped down very suddenly very kind to any one who is named 'Clarice.' and kissed them hard—whack, whack, back And no matter what Time brings you- into place. weeks, months, years, centuries-keep Thurs- "N-0, not going to be married,” he day for your Happy-Day. No cruelty must corrected, “but going to be married-again.” ever defame it, no malice, no gross bitterness.” He spoke as though there were a great dif- Then he crushed you close to him for the ference; but it was man-talk and you did not millionth, billionth fraction of a second, and understand it. went away, while you stayed behind in the Then he gathered you into the big, dark scary black-oak library, feeling as big and 724 The Happy-Day 725 achy and responsible as you used to feel ly to your Father if the Housekeeper-Woman when you and your Dear Father were carry- had not made you cry so that you broke your ing a heavy suit-case together and your Dear explainer. But later in the night the most Father let go his share just a moment to light beautiful thought came to you. At first per- his brown cigar. It gave you a beautiful haps it tasted a little bit sly in your mouth, feeling in your head, but way off in your stom- but after a second it spread like ginger, warm ach it tugged some. and sweet over your whole body except your So you crept away to bed at last, and toes, and you crept out of bed like a flannel dreamed that on a shining path leading ghost and fumbled your way down the black straight from your front door to Heaven you hall to your Dear Father's room and woke had to carry all alone two perfectly huge suit- him shamelessly from his sleep. His eyes cases packed tight with love, and one of the in the moonlight gleamed like two frightened suit-cases was marked “Clarice" and one dreams. was marked “Thursday.” Tug, tug, tug, “Dear Father," you cried — you could you went, and stumble, stumble, stumble, hardly get the words fast enough out of your but your Dear Father could not help you at mouth—“Dear—Father—I-do-not-think all because he was perfectly busy carrying a —Bruno-is-a-very-good-name-for- fat leather bag, some golf sticks, and a bull- a-big-black-dog-I-am- going — to— terrier for a strange lady. name-him-Clarice-instead!” It was not a pleasant dream, and you That was how you and Bruno-Clarice screamed out so loud in the night that the happened to celebrate together your first Housekeeper-Woman had to come and com- Happy-Day with a long, magic, joggling fort you. It was the Housekeeper-Woman train journey to Massachusetts—the only or- who told you that on the morrow your iginal boy and the only original dog in all the Father was going far off across the salt world. seas. It was the Housekeeper-Woman who The Grandmother-Lady proved to be a told you that you, yourself, were to be given very pleasant purple sort of person. Exactly away to a Grandmother-Lady in Massachu whose Grandmother she was, you never found setts. It was also the Housekeeper-Woman out. She was not your Father's mother. who told you that your puppy dog Bruno- She was not your Mother's mother. With Bruno the big, the black, the curly, the wag- these links missing, whose Grandmother gy, was not to be included in the family gift could she be? You could hardly press the to the Grandmother-Lady. Everybody rea- matter further without subjecting her to the soned, it seemed, that you would not need possible mortification of confessing that she Bruno because there would be so many other was only adopted. Maybe, cruelest of all, dogs in Massachusetts. That was just the she was just a Paid-Grandmother. trouble. They would all be "other dogs." The Grandmother-Lady lived in a per- It was Bruno that you wanted, for he was the fectly brown house in a perfectly green gar- only dog, just as you were the only boy in the den on the edge of a perfectly blue ocean. world. All the rest were only “other boys.” That was the Sight of it. Salted mignonette You could have explained the matter perfect was the Smell of it. And a fresh wind flap- - - - - 726 Everybody's Magazine TA ping through tall poplar trees was always and forever the Sound of it. The brown house itself was the living im- age of a prim, old-fashioned bureau backed up bleakly to the street, with its piazza side yanked out boldly into the garden like a riot- ous bureau drawer, through which the Rising Sun rummaged every morning for some par- ticular new shade of scarlet or yellow nas- turtiums. As though quite shocked by such bizarre untidiness, the green garden ran tat- tling like mad down to the ocean and was most frantically shooed back again, so that its little trees and shrubs and flowers fluttered in a perpetual nervous panic of not knowing which way to blow. But the blue ocean was the most wonderful thing of all. Never was there such an ocean! Right from the faraway edge of the sky it came, roaring, ranting, rumpling, till it broke against the beach all white and frilly like the Grandmother - Lady's best ruching. It was morning when you saw the ocean first, and its pleasant waters gleamed like a gorgeous, bright blue looking - glass covered with paper ships all filled with Other Boys' fa- thers. It was not till the first night came down — black and mournful and moany- it was not till the first night came down that you saw that the ocean was Much Too Large. There in your chill linen bed, with the fear of Sea and Night and Strangers upon you, you discovered a very strange droll thing—that your Father was a Person and might therefore leave you, but that your Mother was a feeling and would never, never, never forsake you. Bruno-Clarice, slapping his fat, black tail against your bedroom floor, was some- thing of a feeling too. Most fortunately for your well-being, the Grand- mother-Lady's house was not too isolated from its neighbors. To be sure, a tall, stiff hedge separated the green garden from the laven- der-and-pink garden next door, but a great scraggly hole in the hedge gave a beautiful prickly zest to friendly communication. More than this, two children lived on the other side of the hedge. You had never had any playmates before in all your life! One of the children was just Another Boy –a duplicate of you. But the other one was- the only original girl. Next to the big ocean, she was the surprise of your life. She wore skirts instead of clothes. She wore curls instead of hair. She wore stockings instead of legs. She cried when you laughed. She laughed when you cried. She was funny from the very first second, even when the Boy asked you if your big dog would bite. The Boy stood off and kept right on asking:“Will he bite? Will he bite? W-3-1-1 he bite?” But the Girl took a great rough stick and pried open Bruno-Clarice's tusky mouth to see if he would, and when he g-r-0-w-1-e-d, she just kissed him smack on his black nose and called him “A Precious," and said, “Why, of course he'll bite." The Boy was ten years old-a year older, and much fatter than you. His name was Sam. The Girl was only eight years old, and you could not tell at first whether she was thin or fat, she was so ruffledy. She had a horrid dressy name, “Sophia.” But everybody called her Ladykin. Oh, it is fun to make a boat that will flop sideways through the waves. It is fun to make a windmill that will whirl and whirl in the grass. It is fun to make an education. It is fun to make a fortune. But most of anything in the world it is fun to make a friend! You had never made a friend before. First of all you asked, “How old are you?” “Can you do frac- tions?” “Can you name the capes on the west coast of Africa?” kin's Father kept a huge candy store. It was “What is your favorite color? Green? Blue? mortifying to have to confess that your Father Pink? Red? Or yellow?” Sam voted for was only an Artist, but you laid great stress green. Ladykin chose green and blue and on his large eyes and his long fingers. pink and red and yellow, also purple. Then Then you three went off to the sandy beach you asked, “Which are you most afraid of, and climbed up on a great huddly gray rock the Judgment Day or a Submarine Boat?” to watch the huge yellow sun go down all Sam chose the Submarine Boat right off, shiny and important, like a twenty-dollar gold so you had to take the Judgment Day, which piece in a wad of pink cotton batting. The was not a very pleasant fear to have for a pet. tide was going out, too, the mean old “injun- Ladykin declared that she wasn't afraid of giver,” taking back all the pretty, chuckling anything in the world except of Being Home- pebbles, the shining ropes of seaweed, the dear ly. Wasn't that a silly fear? Then you got salt secrets it had brought so teasingly to your a little more intimate and asked, "What is feet a few hours earlier. You were very lone- your Father's business?” Sam and Lady- some. But not till the gold and pink was al- 727 1728 Everybody's Magazine most gone from the sky did you screw your gulping sob, she kissed you warm and sweet courage up to its supreme point. First you upon your lips. threw four stones very far out into the surf, It was not a Father-kiss with two tight then- arms and a scrunching pain. It was not a “What-is-your-Mother — like?” you Grandmother-Lady kiss complimenting your whispered. clean face. It was not a Bruno-Clarice kiss, Ladykin went to her answer with impetuous mute and wishful and lappy. There was no certainty: pain in it. There was no compliment. There “Our Mother,” she announced, "is fat was no doggish fealty. There was just sweet- and short and wears skin-tight dresses, and ness. is President of the Woman's Club, and is Then you looked straight at Ladykin, and sometimes cross.” Ladykin looked straight at you, looked and A great glory came upon you and you looked and LOOKED, and you both gasped clutched for wonder at the choking neck of right out loud before the first miracle of your your little blouse. life, the Miracle of the Mating of Thoughts. "M-y Mother,” you said, “m-y Mother is Without a word of suggestion, without a word like the Flash of a White Wing across a of explanation, you and Ladykin clasped Stormy Sea!” hands and tiptoed stealthily off to the very edge of the water, and knelt down slushily You started to say more, but with a wild in the sand, and stooped way over, oh, way, war-whoop of amusement, Sam lost his bal- way over, with the cold waves squirting up ance and fell sprawling into the sand. “Oh, your cuffs; and kissed two perfectly round what a funny Mother!” he shouted, but Lady- floaty kisses out to the White Sea-Gull, and kin jumped down on him furiously and be- after a minute the White Gull rose in the sky, gan to kick him with her scarlet sandals. swirled round and round and round, stopped “Hush! hush!” she cried, “Jack's Mother for a second, and then with a wild cry is dead!” and then in an instant she had swooped down again into the blue- Once! clambered back to your side again and snug- Twice! and then with a great fountainy gled her little soft girl-cheek close against splash of wings rose high in the air like a yours, while with one tremulous hand she white silk kite and went scudding off like pointed way out beyond the surf line where a mad into the Grayness, then into the Black- solitary, snow-white gull swooped down into ness, then into the Nothingness of the night. the Blue. “Look!" she gasped, “L-o-o-k!” And you stayed behind on that pleasant, safe, and when you turned to her with a sudden sandy edge of things with all the sweetness 730 Everybody's Magazine his head off if he ever hit a gull, but fortu- puffy, scorchy-looking smoke tree, where nately-or unfortunately–Ladykin's aim was you could cuddle up on the rustic seat and not so sure as Sam's. It was you who had rest your Honesty. And when you were to stay behind on the beach and pommel thoroughly rested, you used to stretch your more than half the life out of Sam while Lady- little arms behind your yawning face and kin, pink as a posy in her best muslin, scared beg: to death of wet and cold, plunged out to her “Oh, Ladykin, wouldn't you, couldn't little neck in the chopping waves to rescue a you please say something curly?” quivering fluff of feathers that struggled Ladykin's mind seemed to curl perfectly broken-winged against the cruel, drowning naturally. The crimp of it never came out. water. “Gulls are gulls!” persisted Sam Almost any time you could take her words with every blubbering breath. “Gulls are that looked so little and tight, and unwind Mothers !” gasped Ladykin, staggering from them and unwind them into yards and yards the surf all drenched and dripping like a and yards of pleasant, magic meanings. bursted water - pail. “Well, boy-gulls are There were no magic meanings in Sam's gulls!” Sam screamed in a perfect explosion words. Sam, for instance, could throw as of outraged truth. But Ladykin defied him many as a hundred stones into the water, yet to the last. Through chattering teeth her when he got through he just lay down in ihe vehement reassertion sounded like some hor- sand and groaned, “Oh, how tired I am! rid, wicked blasphemy: “Nnnnnnnnnnnn-oo! Oh, how tired I am!” But Ladykin, after Bbb-o-y ggggg-ggulls are MMMMMM- she'd thrown only two stones—one that hit Mothers too!” Then with that pulsing the beach, and one that hit you—would stand drench of feathers cuddled close to her right up and declare that her arm was “be- breast, she struggled off alone to the house witched.” Tired? No, not a bit of it, but to have the Croup, while you and Sam went “be-witched!” Hadn't she seen, hadn't you cheerily up the beach to find some shiners seen, hadn't everybody seen that perfectly and some seaweed for your new gull hospital. awful sea-witch's head that popped out of the Not till you were quite an old boy did you wave just after she had thrown her first stone? ever find out what became of that gull. Oh, indeed, and it wasn't the first time either Sacred Bruno-Clarice ate him. Ladykin, it that she had been so frightened! Once when seems, knew always what had happened to she was sitting on the sand counting sea-shells, him, but she never dreamed of telling you till hadn't the Witch swooped right out of the you were old enough to bear it. To Ladykin, water and grabbed her legs? So, now if you Truth out of season was sourer than straw- wanted to break the cruel spell, save Ladykin's berries at Christmas time. life, marry Ladykin, and live in a solid tur- Sam would have told you anything the quoise palace—where all the walls were pa- very first second that he found it out. Sam pered with foreign postage-stamps, and no was perfectly great for Truth. He could tell duplicates—you, not Sam, but you, you, chosen more Great Black Truths in one day than of all the world, must go down to the little har- there were thunder-clouds in the whole hot bor between the two highest, reariest rocks summer sky. This quality made Sam just a and stick a spiked stick through every wave little bit dangerous in a crowd. He was al- that came in. There was no other way! ways and forever shooting people with Truths Now you, yourself, might possibly have in- that he didn't know were loaded. He was vented the witch, but you never, never would always telling the Grandmother-Lady, for have thought of harpooning the waves and instance, that her hair looked exactly like a falling in and drowning your best suit, while wig. He was always telling Ladykin that Ladykin rested her arms. . she smelled of raspberry jam. He was al- Yet in the enforced punishment of an early ways telling you that he didn't believe your bedtime you were not bereaved, but lay in Father really loved you. Oh, everything rapturous delight untangling the minutest that Sam said was as straight and lank and detail of Ladykin's words, till turquoise cities honest as a lady's hair when it's out of crimp. blazed like a turquoise flashlight across your Nothing in the world could be straighter than startled senses; wonderful little princes and that. princesses kowtowed perpetually to royal But sometimes, when you had played Mother Ladykin and royal Father Yourself; sturdily with Sam for a good many hours, and life-sized postage-stamps loomed so lus- you used to coax Ladykin off all alone to the ciously large that envelopes had to be pasted The Happy-Day 731 to the corners of stamps instead of stamps Geometry, and Ladykin subscribed to a to the corners of envelopes. And before you Fashion magazine for the benefit of her paper- had half straightened out the whole thought, dolls. you were fast asleep, and then fast awake, Most astonishing of all, however, your and it was suddenly morning! Oh, it is very Father had invited you to go to Germany comforting to have a playmate who can say and visit him. It was a glorious invitation. curly things. You were all athrill with the Geography and Sometimes, too, when Sam's and Ladykin's Love of it. Already your nostrils crinkled to Mother had been rude to them about brush- the lure of tar and oakum. Already your vis- ing their teeth or tracking perfectly good ion feasted on the parrot-colored crowds of mud into the parlor, and Sam had gone off Come-igrants and Go-igrants that huddled to ease his sorrow, scatting hens or stoning along the wharves with their eager, jabbering cats, you and Ladykin would steal down to faces and their soggy, wadded feet. the gray rock on the beach to watch the white, Oh, the prospect of the journey was a most soft, pleasant sea-gulls. There were times, beautiful experience, but when the actual you think, when Ladykin wished that her Eve of Departure came, the scissors of sep- Mother was a sea-gull. Then you used to aration gleamed rather hard and sharp in the wonder and wonder and wonder about your air, and you hunched your neck a little bit own Mother, and tell Ladykin all over again wincingly before the final crunching snip. about the creaky, black-oak library, and the That last evening was a dreadful evening. smoky, smelly hearth-fire with the hurt red The Cook sat sobbing in the kitchen. The book, and the blue-flowered muslin sleeve Grandmother-Lady's eyes were red with beckoning and beckoning to you; and Lady- sewing. The air was all heavy with going- kin used to explain to you how, very evidently, awayness. To escape the strangle of it, you were the only souvenir that your Father you fled to the beach with Bruno-Clarice did not burn. With that thought in mind, tagging in mournful excitement at your heels, you used to guess and guess what could pos- his smutty nose all a-sniff with the foreboding sibly have happened long ago on a Thursday leathery smell of trunks and bags. There to make a Happy-Day forever and ever on the beach in a scoopy hollow of sand Ladykin said that of course it was something backed up against the old gray rock, were about “Love," but when you ran off to ask Sam and Ladykin. Sam's round, fat face the Grandmother-Lady just exactly what was fretted like a pug-dog's, and Ladykin's “Love” was, the Grandmother-Lady only eyes were blinky-wet with tears. laughed and said that "Love" was a fever It was not a pleasant time to say good-by. that came along a few years after chicken- It had been a beautiful, smooth-skied day, pox and measles and scarlet fever. Ladykin crisp and fresh and bright-colored as a “Sun- was saucy about it. “That may be true,” day supplement”; but now the clouds piled Ladykin acknowledged, “but taint so!” gray and crumpled in the west like a poor Then you went and found Sam and asked stale, thrown-away newspaper, with just a him if he knew what “Love” was. Sam knew sputtering blaze in one corner like the kin- at once. Sam said that “Love" was the dling of a half-hearted match. feeling that one had for mathematics. Now "Please be kind to Bruno-Clarice,” you that was all bosh, for the feeling that you and began; “I shall miss you very much-very, Ladykin had for Mathematics would not very much. But I will come back- have made a Happy-Day for a cow. “N-, I do not think you will come But even if there were a great many back," said Ladykin. “You will go to Ger- things that you could not find out, it was a many to live with your Father and your Play- good deal of fun to grow up. Apart from Mother, and you will gargle all your words a few stomach-aches and two or three gnaw- like a throat tonic till you don't know how ing pains in the calves of your legs, aging was to be friends in English any more; and even a most alluring process. if you did come back Bruno-Clarice would Springs, summers, autumns, winters, went bark at you, and I shall be married, and Sam hurtling over one another, till all of a sudden, will have a long, black beard.” without the slightest effort on your part, you Now you could have borne Ladykin's mar- were fifteen years old, Bruno-Clarice had riage; you could even have borne Bruno- grown to be a sober, industrious, middle Clarice's barking at you; but you could not, aged dog, Sam was idolatrously addicted to simply could not bear the thought of Sam's 732 Everybody's Magazine growing a long black beard without you. Father so suffering; yet when he took you in Even Ladykin with all her wonderfulness sat his arms and raised your face to his and utterly helpless before the terrible, unexpected quizzed you: “Little Boy Jack, do you love climax of her words. It was Sam who leaped me? Do you love me?" you scanned him into the breach. The clutch of his hand was out of your Mother's made-over eyes and an- like the grit of sand-paper. "Jack,” he swered him out of your Mother's made-over stammered, “Jack, I promise you-anyhow mouth: I won't cut my beard until you come!” “N-o! N-o! I don't love you!" And he jumped back as though you had It was certainly only the thought of Sam's knifed him, and then laughed out loud as faithful beard that sustained you on your though he were glad of the pain. rough, blue voyage to Germany. It was cer “But I ask you this,” he persisted, and the tainly only the thought of Sam's faithful shine in his eyes was like a sunset glow in the beard that rallied your smitten forces when deep woods, and the touch of his hands would you met your Father face to face and saw have lured you into the very heart of the flame. him reel back white as chalk against the “It is not probable,” he said, “that your Dear silky shoulder of your Play-Mother, and hide Mother's child and mine will go through Life his eyes behind the crook of his elbow. without knowing Love. When your Love- It is not pleasant to make people turn white Time comes, if you understand then, and for- as chalk, even in Germany. Worse yet, every give me, will you send me a message?” day your Father grew whiter and whiter “Oh, yes," you cried out suddenly. “Oh, and whiter, and every day your pretty Play- yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!” and clung to him Mother wrinkled her forehead more and frantically with your own boyish hands, and more in a strange, hurty sort of trouble. kissed him with your Mother's mouth. But Never once did you dare think of Ladykin. you did not love him. It was your Mother's Never once did you dare think of Bruno- mouth that loved him. Clarice. You just named all your upper So you went away to school in England teeth “Sam," and all your lower teeth “Sam,” and grew up and up and up some more; but and ground them into each other all day long somehow this latter growing up was a dull -“Sam! Sam! Sam!” over and over and process without savor, and the years went by over. There were, also, no Happy-Days in as briefly and inconsequently as a few dis- Germany, and nobody ever spoke of Clarice. missing sentences in a paragraph. There You were pretty glad at last after a month were plenty of people to work with and play when your Father came to you with his most with, but almost no one to think with, and beautiful face and his most loving hands, and your hard-wrought book knowledge faded to said: nothingness compared to the three paramount “Little Boy Jack, there is no use in it. convictions of your youthful experience, You have got to go away again. You are a namely, that neither Coffee nor Ocean nor wound that will not heal. It is your Dear Life tasted as good as it smelled. Mother's eyes. It is your Dear Mother's And then when you were almost twenty- mouth. It is your Dear Mother's smile. one you met “Clarice"! God forgive me, but I cannot bear it! I am It was at a Christmas supper party in a going to send you away to school in England.” café. Some one looked up suddenly and You put your finger cautiously up to your called the name “Clarice! Clarice!” and eyes and traced their round, firm contour. when your startled eyes shot to the mark and Your Mother's eyes? They felt like two saw her there in her easy, dashing, gorgeous heaping teaspoonfuls of tears. Your Moth- beauty, something in your brain curdled, and er's mouth? Desperately you poked it into a all the Lonesomeness, all the Mystery, all the smile. “Going to send me away to school in Elusiveness of Life pounded suddenly in your England?” you stammered. “Never mind. heart like a captured Will-o'-the-Wisp. “Člar- Sam will not cut his beard until I come.” ice?” Here, then, was the end of your jour- “What?"cried your Father in a great voice. ney? The eternal kindness? The flash of “W-h-a-1?" a white wing across your stormy sea ? “Clar- But you pretended that you had not said ice!" And you looked across unbidden into anything, because it was boy-talk and your her eyes and smiled at her a gaspy, astonished Father would not have understood it. smile that brought the strangest light into her Never, never, never had you seen your face. 734 Everybody's Magazine And then at last you stood again on your to me! I am so lonesome I cannot wait to Native Land, alive, well, vital, at home! make love to you. Oh, please, please love With the sensation of an unbroken mir- me n-o-w. I need you to love me N-O-W!" acle, you found your way again to the little Ladykin frowned. It was not a cross Massachusetts sea town, along the peaceful frown. It was just a sort of a cosy corner for village walk to the big brown house that her thoughts. Surprise cuddled there, and turned so bleakly to the street. There on the a sorry feeling, and a great tenderness. steps, wonder of wonders, you found two “You have not been a very good boy?” elderly people, Bruno-Clarice and the Grand- she repeated after you. mother-Lady, and your knees gave out very T he memory of a year crowded blackly suddenly and you sank down beside Bruno- upon you. "No," you said, “I have not Clarice and smothered the bark right out of been a very good boy, and I am very suffer- him. ing-sad. But please love me, and forgive me. “Good lack!” cried the Grandmother- No one has ever loved me!” Lady, “Good lack!” and made so much noise The surprise and the sorry feeling in Lady- that Sam himself came running like mad kin's forehead crowded together to make room from the next house; and though he had no for something that was just womanliness. beard, you liked him very much and shook She began to smile. It was the smile of a and shook his hand until he squealed. hurt person when the opiate first begins to With the Grandmother-Lady plying you overtake the pain. with questions, and Sam feeling your muscle, “Oh, I'm sure it was an accidental bad- and Bruno-Clarice trying to crawl into your ness," she volunteered softly. “If I were ac- lap like a pug-dog baby, it was almost half cidentally bad, you would forgive me, wouldn't an hour before you had a chance to ask, you?" “Where is Ladykin?" “Oh, yes, yes, yes," you stammered, and “She's down on the beach,” said Sam. reached up your lonesome hands to her. “I'll go and help you find her.” “Then you don't have to make love," she You looked at Sam speculatively. “I'll whispered. “It's all made," and slipped give you ten dollars if you won't," you said. down into your arms. Sam considered the matter gravely before But something troubled her, and after a he began to grin. minute she pushed you away and tried to re- “I'll do it for five,” he acquiesced. nounce you. So you went off with Bruno-Clarice hob “But it is not Thursday," she sobbed; "it bling close at your heels, to find Ladykin for is Wednesday; and my name is not ‘Clarice'; yourself. When you saw her she was perched it is Ladykin.” up on the very top of the huddly gray rock T hen all the boyishness died out of you- playing tinkle tunes on her mandolin, and the sweet, idle reveries, the mystic responsibil- you stole up so quietly behind her that she ities. You shook your Father's dream from did not see you till you were close beside your eyes, and squared your shoulders for your own realities. Then she turned very suddenly and looked "A Man must make his own Happy-Day," down upon you and pretended that she did you cried, “and a Man must choose his own not know you, with her color coming and go- Mate!" ing all luminous and intermittent like a pink Before your vehemence Ladykin winced and white flashlight. In six years you had back against the rock and eyed you fear- not seen such a wonderful play-matey face. somely. “Who are you?" she asked. “Who are “Oh, I will love you and cherish you,” you you?" pleaded. “I am 'Little Boy Jack' come back to But Ladykin shook her head. "That is marry you,” you began, but something in the not enough,” she whispered. There was a wistful, shy girl tenderness of her face and kind of holy scorn in her eyes. eyes choked your bantering words right off T hen a White Gull flashed like an appar- in your throat. ition before your sight. Ladykin's whole fig- “Yes, Ladykin," you said, “I have come ure drooped, her cheek paled, her little mouth home, and I am very tired, and I am very quivered, her vision narrowed. There with sad, and I am very lonesome, and I have not her eyes on the White Gull and your eyes been a very good boy. But please be good fixed on hers, you saw her shy thoughts jour- her. “Next to Reading Matter”. 735 ney into the Future. You saw her eyes smile, sadden, brim with tears, smile again, and come homing back to you with a timid, glad surprise as she realized that your thoughts too had gone all the long journey with her. She reached out one little hand to you. It was very cold. “If I should pass like the flash of a white wing,” she questioned, "would you be true to me-and mine ?" The Past, the Present, the Future rushed over you in tumult. Your lips could hardly crowd so big a vow into so small a word. “Oh, YES, YES, YES!” you cried. In reverent mastery you raised her face to yours. “A Man must make his own Happy- Day," you repeated. “A Man must make his own Happy-Day!” Timorously, yet assentingly, she came back to your arms. The whisper of her lips against your ear was like the flutter of a rose petal. “It will be Wednesday, then,” she said, "for us and-ours." Clanging a strident bell across the magic stillness of the garden, Sam bore down upon you like a steam-engine out of tune. “Oh, I say," he shouted, "for heaven's sake cut it out and come to supper.” The startled impulse of your refusal faded before the mute appeal in Ladykin's eyes. “All right,” you answered; “but first I must go and cable 'love' to my Father.” “Oh, hurry!” cried Ladykin. Her word was crumpled and shy as a kiss. “Oh, hurry!” cried Sam. His thought was straight and frank as a knife and fork. Joy sang in your heart like a prayer that rhymed. Your eager heart was pounding like a race horse. The clouds in the sky were scudding to sunset. The surf on the beach seemed all out of breath. The green mead- ow path to the village stretched like the pal- triest trifle before a man's fleet running pace. “But I can't hurry," you said, for Bruno- Clarice came poking his grizzled old nose into your hand. “Oh, wait for me," he seemed to plead. “Oh, please, please wait for me." “Next to Reading Matter" By O. HENRY Author of "The Four Million,” “The Trimmed Lamp,” etc. Illustrations by Martin Justice LTE compelled my interest as ness and irregularity of feature IT he stepped from the ferry that spellbound you with wonder at Desbrosses Street. He had the and dismay. So may have looked air of being familiar with hemi- afrites or the shapes metamor- spheres and worlds, and of enter- phosed from the vapor of the ing New York as the lord of a fisherman's vase. As he after- demesne who revisited it after years of ab- ward told me, his name was Judson Tate; sence. But I thought that with all his air, and he may as well be called so at once. he had never before set foot on the slippery He wore his green silk tie through a topaz cobblestones of the City of Too Many Caliphs. ring; and he carried a cane made of the He wore loose clothes of a strange bluish- vertebræ of a shark. drab color, and a conservative, round, Pan- Judson Tate accosted me with some large ama hat without the cock-a-hoop indenta- and casual inquiries about the city's streets tions and cants with which Northern fanciers and hotels, in the manner of one who had disfigure the tropic head-gear. Moreover, he but for the moment forgotten the trifling was the homeliest man I have ever seen. details. I could think of no reason for dis- His ugliness was less repellent than startling praising my own quiet hotel in the down- -arising from a sort of Lincolnian rugged- town district; so the mid-morning of the night 736 Everybody's Magazine found us already victualed and drinked (at daughter of the alcalde of Oratama, as chief my expense), and ready to be chaired and actors. And, another thing—nowhere else tobaccoed in a quiet corner of the lobby. on the globe except in the department of There was something on Judson Tate's Treinta y tres in Uruguay does the chuchula mind, and, such as it was, he tried to convey plant grow. The products of the country I it to me. Already he had accepted me as speak of are valuable woods, dyestuffs, gold, his friend; and when I looked at his great rubber, ivory, and cocoa.” snuff-brown, first-mate's hand, with which he “I was not aware," said I, “that South brought emphasis to his periods, within six America produced any ivory.” inches of my nose, I wondered if, by any “There you are twice mistaken,” said Jud- chance, he was as sudden in conceiving en- son Tate, distributing the words over at least mity against strangers. an octave of his wonderful voice. “I did not When this man began to talk I perceived say that the country I spoke of was in South in him a certain power. His voice was a per- America-I must be careful, my dear man; suasive instrument upon which he played I have been in politics there, you know. But, with a somewhat specious but effective art. even so—I have played chess against its He did not try to make you forget his ugli- president with a set carved from the nasal ness; he flaunted it in your face and made it bones of the tapir-one of our native speci- part of the charm of his speech. Shutting mens of the order of perissodactyle ungu- your eyes, you would have trailed after this lates inhabiting the Cordilleras—which was rat-catcher's pipes at least to the walls of as pretty ivory as you would care to see. Hameln. Beyond that you would have had “But it was of romance and adventure and to be more childish to follow. But let him the ways of woman that I was going to tell play his own tune to the words set down, so you, and not of zoological animals. that if all is too dull, the art of music may “For fifteen years I was the ruling power bear the blame. behind old Sancho Benavides, the Royal High “Women,” said Judson Tate, "are mys- Thumbscrew of the republic. You've seen terious creatures.” his picture in the papers-a mushy black My spirits sank. I was not there to listen man with whiskers like the notes on a Swiss to such a world-old hypothesis—to such a music-box cylinder, and a scroll in his right time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, feeble, il- hand like the ones they write births on in the logical, vicious, patent sophistry—to an an- family Bible. Well, that chocolate potentate cient, baseless, wearisome, ragged, unfounded, used to be the biggest item of interest any- insidious falsehood originated by women where between the color line and the paral- themselves, and by them insinuated, foisted, lels of latitude. It was three throws, horses, thrust, spread, and ingeniously promulgated whether he was to wind up in the Hall of into the ears of mankind by underhanded, Fame or the Bureau of Combustibles. He'd secret, and deceptive methods, for the purpose have been sure called the Roosevelt of the of augmenting, furthering, and reenforcing Southern Continent if it hadn't been that their own charms and designs. Grover Cleveland was President at the time. “Oh, I don't know!” said I vernacularly. He'd hold office a couple of terms, then he'd “Have you ever heard of Oratama?” he sit out for a hand-always after appointing asked. his own successor for the interims. "Possibly," I answered. “I seem to re- “But it was not Benavides, the Liberator, call a toe dancer-or a suburban addi- who was making all this fame for himself. tion-or was it a perfume?—of some such Not him. It was Judson Tate. Benavides name.” was only the chip over the bug. I gave him “It is a town,” said Judson Tate, "on the the tip when to declare war and increase im- coast of a foreign country of which you know port duties and wear his state trousers. But nothing and could understand less. It is a that wasn't what I wanted to tell you. How country governed by a dictator and controlled did I get to be It? I'll tell you. Because by revolutions and insubordination. It was I'm the most gifted talker that ever made there that a great life-drama was played, with vocal sounds since Adam first opened his myself, Judson Tate, the homeliest man in eyes, pushed aside the smelling-salts, and America, and Fergus McMahan, the hand asked: “Where am I?' somest adventurer in history or fiction, and “As you observe, I am about the ugliest Señorita Anabela Zamora, the beautiful man you ever saw outside of the gallery of “Next to Reading Matter” 737 photographs of the New England Early out a lot of political unrest and chop off a Christian Scientists. So, at an early age, I few heads in the customs and military de- perceived that what I lacked in looks I must partments. Fergus, who owned the ice and make up in eloquence. That I've done. I sulphur-match concessions of the republic, get what I go after. As the back-stop and says he'll keep me company. still small voice of old Benavides I made “So, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we all the great historical powers-behind-the- gallops into Oratama, and the town belonged throne, such as Talleyrand, Mrs. de Pompa to us as much as Long Island Sound doesn't dour, and Loeb, look as small as the minority belong to Japan when T. R. is at Oyster Bay. report of a Duma. I could talk nations into I say us; but I mean me. Everybody for four or out of debt, harangue armies to sleep on nations, two oceans, one bay and isthmus, and the battlefield, reduce insurrections, inflam- five archipelagoes around had heard of Jud- mations, taxes, appropriations, or surpluses son Tate. Gentleman adventurer, they called with a few words, and call up the dogs of war me. I had been written up in five columns of or the dove of peace with the same birdlike the yellow journals, 40,000 words (with mar- whistle. Beauty and epaulettes and curly ginal decorations), in a monthly magazine, mustaches and Grecian profiles in other men and a stickful on the twelfth page of the New were never in my way. When people first York Times. If the beauty of Fergus McMa- look at me they shudder. Unless they are in han gained any part of our reception in Ora- the last stages of angina pectoris they are tama, I'll eat the price-tag in my Panama. It mine in ten minutes after I begin to talk. was me that they hung out paper flowers and Women and men-I win 'em as they come. palm branches for. I am not a jealous man; Now, you wouldn't think women would I am stating facts. The people were Nebu- fancy a man with a face like mine, would chadnezzars; they bit the grass before me; you?” there was no dust in the town for them to “Oh, yes, Mr. Tate,” said I. "History is bite. They bowed down to Judson Tate. They bright and fiction dull with homely men who knew that I was the power behind Sancho have charmed women. There seems " Benavides. A word from me was more to “Pardon me,” interrupted Judson Tate; them than a whole deckle-edged library from “but you don't quite understand. You have East Aurora in sectional bookcases was from yet to hear my story. anybody else. And yet there are people who “Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine spend hours fixing their faces-rubbing in in the capital. For a handsome man I'll ad- cold cream and massaging the muscles (al- mit he was the duty-free merchandise. He ways toward the eyes) and taking in the slack had blond curls and laughing blue eyes and with tincture of benzoin, and electrolyzing was featured regular. They said he was a moles—to what end? Looking handsome. ringer for the statue they call Herr Mees, Oh, what a mistake! It's the larynx that the god of speech and eloquence resting in the beauty doctors ought to work on. It's some museum at Rome. Some German an- words more than warts, talk more than tal- archist, I suppose. They are always resting cum, palaver more than powder, blarney and talking. more than bloom that counts—the phono- “But Fergus was no talker. He was graph instead of the photograph. But I was brought up with the idea that to be beautiful going to tell you. was to make good. His conversation was “The local Harrylehrs put me and Fergus about as edifying as listening to a leak drop- up at the Centipede Club, a frame building ping in a tin dish-pan at the head of the bed built on posts sunk in the surf. The tide's when you want to go to sleep. But he and only nine inches. The Little Big High Low me got to be friends—maybe because we was Jacks-in-the-game of the town came around so opposite, don't you think? Looking at the and kowtowed. Oh, it wasn't to Herr Mees. Hallowe'en mask that I call my face when They had heard about Judson Tate. I'm shaving seemed to give Fergus pleasure; “One afternoon me and Fergus McMahan and I'm sure that whenever I heard the feeble was sitting on the seaward gallery of the output of throat noises that he called con Centipede, drinking iced rum and talking. versation I felt contented to be a gargoyle "Judson,' says Fergus, “there's an angel in with a silver tongue. Oratama.' “One time I found it necessary to go down “So long,' says I, “as it ain't Gabriel, why to this coast town of Oratama to straighten talk as if you had heard a trump blow?' “JUDSON,' SAYS FERGUS, YOU KNOW YOU ARE AS BEAUTILESS AS A RHINOCEROS." “It's the Señorita Anabela Zamora,' says usually confine my side of the argument to Fergus. 'She's-she's—she's as lovely as- what may be likened to a cheap phonographic as hell!' reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.' “Bravo!' says I, laughing heartily. "You “Oh, I know,' says Fergus, amiable, 'that have a true lover's eloquence to paint the I'm not handy at small talk. Or large beauties of your inamorata. You remind me, either. That's why I'm telling you. I want says I, 'of Faust's wooing of Marguerite you to help me.' that is, if he wooed her after he went down “How can I do it?' I asked. the trap-door of the stage. “I have subsidized,' says Fergus, the “Judson,' says Fergus, 'you know you services of Señorita Anabela's duenna, whose are as beautiless as a rhinoceros. You can't name is Francesa. You have a reputation have any interest in women. I'm awfully in this country, Judson,' says Fergus, 'of gone on Miss Anabela. And that's why I'm being a great man and a hero.' telling you.' “I have,' says I. 'And I deserve it.' “Oh, seguramente,' says I. 'I know I “And I,' says Fergus, 'am the best-look- have a front elevation like an Aztec god that ing man between the arctic circle and the guards a buried treasure that never did exist antarctic ice pack. in Jefferson County, Yucatan. But there are . “With limitations,' says I, as to physiog- compensations. For instance, I am It in nomy and geography, I freely concede you to this country as far as the eye can reach, and be.' then a few perches and poles. And again, “Between the two of us,' says Fergus, says I, 'when I engage people in a set-to of “we ought to land the Señorita Anabela Za- oral, vocal, and laryngeal utterances, I do not mora. The lady, as you know, is of an old 738 “Next to Reading Matter” 739 Spanish family, and further than looking at be seen, and make love to her for him—for her driving in the family carruaje of after the pretty man that she has seen on the plaza, noons around the plaza, or catching a glimpse thinking him to be Don Judson Tate. of her through a barred window of evenings, “Why shouldn't I do it for him--for my she is as unapproachable as a star.' 'friend, Fergus. McMahan? For him to ask “Land her for which one of us?' says I. me was a compliment—an acknowledgment “For me, of course,' says Fergus. "You've of his own shortcomings. never seen her. Now, I've had Francesa "You little, lily-white, fine-haired, highly point me out to her as being you on several polished piece of dumb sculpture,' says I, occasions. When she sees me on the plaza, “I'll help you. Make your arrangements and she thinks she's looking at Don Judson Tate, get me in the dark outside her window and the greatest hero, statesman, and romantic my stream of conversation opened up with figure in the country. With your reputation the moonlight-tremolo stop turned on, and and my looks combined in one man, how can she's yours.' she resist him? She's heard all about your “Keep your face hid, Jud,' says Fergus. thrilling history, of course. And she's seen me. 'For heaven's sake, keep your face hid. I'm "THE ALCALDE LEADS ME UP TO ANABELA." Can any woman want more?' asks Fergus McMahan. “Can she do with less?' I ask. "How can we separate our mutual attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?' “Then Fergus tells me his scheme. “The house of the alcalde, Don Luis Za- mora, he says, has a patio, of course—a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street. In an angle of it is his daughter's window—as dark a place as you could find. And what do you think he wants me to do? Why, knowing my freedom, charm, and skilfulness of tongue, he proposes that I go into that patio at mid- night, when the hobgoblin face of me cannot a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment; but this is a business deal. If I could talk I wouldn't ask you. But seeing me and lis- tening to you, I don't see why she can't be landed.' “By you?' says I. “By me,' says Fergus. “Well, Fergus and the duenna, Francesa, attended to the details. And one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar, and led me to the house at midnight. I stood by the window in the patio until I heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's whisper on the other side of the bars. I could see only a faint, white-clad shape in- 740 Everybody's Magazine Du SICC. side; and true to Fergus, I pulled the collar glance that I must be hers and she mine for- of my cloak high up, for it was July, in the ever. I thought of my face and nearly wet season, and the nights were chilly. And, fainted; and then I thought of my other talents smothering a laugh as I thought of the and stood upright again. And I had been tongue-tied Fergus, I began to talk. wooing her for three weeks for another man! "Well, sir, I talked an hour at the Señorita “As Señorita Anabela's carriage rolled Anabela. I say 'at,' because it was not slowly past, she gave Fergus a long, soft 'with. Now and then she would say: 'Oh, glance from the corners of her night-black Señor,' or 'Now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'I eyes, a glance that would have sent Judson know you don't mean that,' and such things Tate up into heaven in a rubber-tired chariot. as women will when they are being rightly But she never looked at me. And that courted. Both of us knew English and Span- handsome man only ruffles his curls and ish; so in two languages I tried to win the smirks and prances like a lady-killer at my heart of the lady for my friend Fergus. But side. for the bars to the window I could have done "What do you think of her, Judson?' it in one. At the end of the hour she dis- asks Fergus, with an air. missed me and gave me a big, red rose. I "This much,' says I. “She is to be Mrs. handed it over to Fergus when I got home. Judson Tate. I am no man to play tricks “For three weeks every third or fourth on a friend. So take your warning.' night I impersonated my friend in the patio at “I thought Fergus would die laughing. the window of Señorita Anabela. At last she “Well, well, well,' said he, 'you old dough- admitted that her heart was mine, and spoke face! Struck, too, are you? That's great! of having seen me every afternoon when she But you're too late. Francesa tells me that drove in the plaza. It was Fergus she had Anabela talks of nothing but me, day and seen, of course. But it was my talk that won night. Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you her. Suppose Fergus had gone there and for making that chin-music to her of evenings. tried to make a hit in the dark with his But, do you know, I've an idea that I could beauty all invisible, and not a word to say have done it as well myself.' for himself! “Mrs. Judson Tate,' says I. 'Don't for- “On the last night she promised to be get the name. You've had the use of my mine—that is, Fergus's. And she put her tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. hand between the bars for me to kiss. I be- You can't lend me your looks; but hereafter stowed the kiss and took the news to Fergus. my tongue is my own. Keep your mind on "You might have left that for me to do,' the name that's to be on the visiting cards says he. two inches by three and a half—“Mrs. Judson "That'll be your job hereafter,' says I. Tate.” That's all. 'Keep on doing that and don't try to talk. "All right,' says Fergus, laughing again. Maybe after she thinks she's in love she 'I've talked with her father, the alcalde, and won't notice the difference between real con- he's willing. He's to give a baile to-morrow versation and the inarticulate sort of droning evening in his new warehouse. If you were that you give forth.' a dancing man, Jud, I'd expect you around “Now, I had never seen Señorita Anabela. to meet the future Mrs. McMahan.' So, the next day Fergus asks me to walk “But on the next evening, when the music with him through the plaza and view the was playing loudest at the Alcalde Zamora's daily promenade and exhibition of Oratama baile, into the room steps Judson Tate in new society, a sight that had no interest for me. white linen clothes as if he were the biggest But I went; and children and dogs took to man in the whole nation, which he was. the banana groves and mangrove swamps “Some of the musicians jumped off the as soon as they had a look at my face. key when they saw my face, and one or two “Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling of the timidest señoritas let out a screech or his mustache-'the one in white, in the open two. But up prances the alcalde and al- carriage with the black horse.' most wipes the dust off my shoes with his “I looked, and felt the ground rock under forehead. No mere good looks could have my feet. For Señorita Anabela Zamora was won me that sensational entrance. the most beautiful woman in the world, and “I hear much, Señor Zamora,' says I, 'of the only one from that moment on, so far as the charm of your daughter. It would give Judson Tate was concerned. I saw at a me great pleasure to be presented to her.' lartin duslin "I REACHED ACROSS THE COUNTER AND SEIZED HIM BY THE THROAT." “There were about six dozen willow rock- son Tate, and what a big man he was, and ing-chairs, with pink tidies tied on to them, the big things he had done; and that was in arranged against the walls. In one of them my favor. But, of course, it was some shock sat Señorita Anabela in white Swiss and red to her to find out that I was not the pretty slippers, with pearls and fireflies in her hair. man that had been pointed out to her as the Fergus was at the other end of the room try great Judson. And then I took the Spanish ing to break away from two maroons and a language, which is better than English for cer- claybank girl. tain purposes, and played on it like a harp of “The alcalde leads me up to Anabela and a thousand strings. I ranged from the second presents me. When she took the first look G below the staff up to F-sharp above it. I set at my face she dropped her fan and nearly my voice to poetry, art, romance, flowers, and turned her chair over from the shock. But moonlight. I repeated some of the verses I'm used to that. that I had murmured to her in the dark at “I sat down by her and began to talk. her window; and I knew from a sudden soft When she heard me speak she jumped, and sparkle in her eye that she recognized in my her eyes got as big as alligator pears. She voice the tones of her midnight mysterious couldn't strike a balance between the tones wooer. of my voice and the face I carried. But I “Anyhow, I had Fergus McMahan going. kept on talking in the key of C, which is the Oh, the vocal is the true art—no doubt about ladies' kev; and presently she sat still in her that. Handsome is as handsome palavers. chair and a dreamy look came into her eyes. That's the renovated proverb. She was coming my way. She knew of Jud- “I took Señorita Anabela for a walk in the 741 742 Everybody's Magazine lemon grove while Fergus, disfiguring himself “This happened for five evenings consec- with an ugly frown, was waltzing with the utively. claybank girl. Before we returned I had “On the sixth day she ran away with Fer- permission to come to her window in the gus McMahan. patio the next evening at midnight and talk “It was known that they fled in a sailing some more. yacht bound for Belize. I was only eight “Oh, it was easy enough. In two weeks hours behind them in a small steamer be- Anabela was engaged to me, and Fergus was longing to the Revenue Department. out. He took it calm, for a handsome man, “Before I saïed, I rushed into the botica and told me he wasn't going to give in. of old Manuel Iquito, a half-breed Indian “'Talk may be all right in its place, Jud. druggist. I could not speak, but I pointed son,' he says to me, “although I've never to my throat and made a sound like escaping thought it worth cultivating. But,' says steam. He began to yawn. In an hour, ac- he, 'to expect mere words to back up suc- cording to the customs of the country, I would cessfully a face like yours in a lady's good have been waited on. I reached across the graces is like expecting a man to make a counter, seized him by the throat, and pointed square meal on the ringing of a dinner-bell.' again to my own. He yawned once more, “But I haven't begun on the story I was and thrust into my hand a small bottle con- going to tell you yet. taining a black liquid. “One day I took a long ride in the hot "Take one small spoonful every two sunshine, and then took a bath in the cold hours,' says he. waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town “I threw him a dollar and skinned for the before I'd cooled off. steamer. “That evening after dark I called at the “I steamed into the harbor at Belize thir- alcalde's to see Anabela. I was calling reg teen seconds behind the yacht that Anabela ular every evening then, and we were to be and Fergus were on. They started for the married in a month. She was looking like shore in a dory just as my skiff was lowered a bulbul, a gazelle, and a tea-rose, and her over the side. I tried to order my sailormen cyes were as soft and bright as two quarts of to row faster, but the sounds died in my cream skimmed off from the milky way. larynx before they came to the light. Then She looked at my rugged features without I thought of old Iquito's medicine, and I got any expression of fear or repugnance. In- out his bottle and took a swallow of it. deed, I fancied that I saw a look of deep ad “The two boats landed at the same moment. miration and affection, such as she had cast I walked straight up to Anabela and Fergus. at Fergus on the plaza. Her eyes rested upon me for an instant; then "I sat down, and opened my mouth to tell she turned them, full of feeling and confi- Anabela what she loved to hear—that she dence, upon Fergus. I knew I could not was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness speak, but I was desperate. In speech lay my of earth. I opened my mouth, and instead only hope. I could not stand beside Fergus of the usual vibrating words of love and com- and challenge comparison in the way of pliment, there came forth a faint wheeze such beauty. Purely involuntarily, my larynx and as a baby with croup might emit. Not a epiglottis attempted to reproduce the sounds word — not a syllable — not an intelligible that my mind was calling upon my vocal sound. I had caught cold in my laryngeal organs to send forth. regions when I took my injudicious bath. “To my intense surprise and delight the “For two hours I sat trying to entertain words rolled forth beautifully clear, resonant, Anabela. She talked a certain amount, but exquisitely modulated, full of power, ex- it was perfunctory and diluted. The nearest pression, and long-repressed emotion. approach I made to speech was to formulate "Señorita Anabela,' says I, 'may I speak a sound like a clam trying to sing 'A Life on with you aside for a moment?' the Ocean Wave,' at low tide. It seemed “You don't want details about that, do that Anabela's eyes did not rest upon me as you? Thanks. The old eloquence had often as usual. I had nothing with which come back, all right. I led her under a co- to charm her ears. We looked at pictures coanut palm and put my old verbal spell on and she played the guitar occasionally, very her again. badly. When I left, her parting manner “ Judson,' says she, 'when you are talking seemed cool-or at least thoughtful. to me I can hear nothing else, I can see “Next to Reading Matter” 743 nothing else—there is nothing and nobody else in the world for me.' “Well, that's about all of the story. Ana- bela went back to Oratama in the steamer with me. I never heard what became of Fergus. I never saw him any more. Ana- bela is now Mrs. Judson Tate. Has my story bored you much?” "No," said I. “I am always interested in psychological studies. A human heart, and especially a woman's—is a wonderful thing to contemplate.” “It is,” said Judson Tate. “And so are the trachea and the bronchial tubes of man. And the larynx, too. Did you ever make a study of the windpipe?". “Never," said I. “But I have taken much pleasure in your story. May I ask after Mrs. Tate, and inquire of her present health and whereabouts?" “Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. “We are living in Bergen Avenue, Jersey City. The climate down in Oratama didn't suit Mrs. T. I don't suppose you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of the epiglottis, did you?” “Why, no," said I, “I am no surgeon." "Pardon me,” said Judson Tate, “but every man should know enough of anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. A sudden cold may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation of the pulmonary vesicles, . Wordla "JUDSON,' SAYS SHE, WHEN YOU ARE TALKING TO ME, THERE IS NOTHING AND NOBODY ELSE IN THE WORLD FOR ME." 744 Everybody's Magazine which may result in a serious affection of the had poured gently upon me a story that I vocal organs.” might have used. There was a little of the "Perhaps so," said I, with some impa- breath of life in it, and some of the synthetic tience; “but that is neither here nor there. atmosphere that passes, when cunningly tink- Speaking of the strange manifestations of ered, in the marts. And, at the last it had the affection of women, 1- " proven to be a commercial pill, deſtly coated “Yes, yes," interrupted Judson Tate, with the sugar of fiction. The worst of it “they have peculiar ways. But, as I was was that I could not offer it for sale. Ad- going to tell you: when I went back to Ora- vertising departments and counting-rooms tama I found out from Manuel Iquito what look down upon me.. And it would never was in that mixture he gave me for my lost do for the literary. Therefore I sat upon a voice. I told you how quick it cured me. bench with other disappointed ones until my He made that stuff from the chuchula plant. eyelids drooped. Now, look here.” . I went to my room, and, as my custom is, Judson Tate drew an oblong, white paste- read for an hour stories in my favorite mag- board box from his pocket. azines. This was to get my mind back to “For any cough," he said, “or cold, or art again. hoarseness, or bronchial affection whatsoever, And as I read each story, I threw the mag- I have here the greatest remedy in the world. azines sadly and hopelessly, one by one, You see the formula printed on the box. upon the floor. Each author, without one Each tablet contains licorice, 2 grains; bal- exception to bring balm to my heart, wrote sam tolu, to grain; oil of anise, zo of a minim; liltingly and sprightly a story of some par- oil of tar, ao of a minim; oleo-resin of cu- ticular make of motor-car that seemed to bebs, of a minim; fluid extract of chu- control the sparking plug of his genius. chula, i of a minim. And when the last one was hurled from “I am in New York,” went on Judson me I took heart. Tate, "for the purpose of organizing a com- “If readers can swallow so many propri- pany to market the greatest remedy for throat etary automobiles," I said to myself, “they affections ever discovered. At present I am ought not to strain at one of Tatc's Com- introducing the lozenges in a small way. I pound Magic Chuchula Bronchial Lozenges.” have here a box containing four dozen, And so if you see this story in print you which I am selling for the small sum of fifty will understand that business is business, cents. If you are suffering " and that if Art gets very far ahead of Commerce, she will have to get up and I got up and went away without a word. hustle. I walked slowly up to the little park near my I may as well add, to make a clean job of hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with his it, that you can't buy the chuchula plant in conscience. My feelings were lacerated. He the drug stores. The Turn of the Year By ARTHUR STRINGER THE pines shake and the winds wake, And the dark waves crowd the sky-line! The birds fly out on a troubled sky; The widening road lies white and long, And the page is turned, And the world is tired! So I want no more of twilight sloth, And I want no more of resting, And of all the e^rth I ask no more Than the green sea, the great sea, The long road, the white road, And a change of life to-day! CHILDREN OF THE LONG AGO BY-VANCE-THOMPSON MAGIC AND THE MOVSE DRIVER ROUGH field, yellow a tailor, singing a song about herself—“la with whin-flowers, then belle Marguerite.” Her small brother lay on a plantation of ancient his stomach near-by and drummed his heels trees, and, beyond, the together. The ennui of life was upon him. He little river, with an old had been about everything that afternoon- flat-bottomed boat nosing the bank. There soldier and pirate, brigand and chauffeur; were three of the Wise Folk sitting there one he had been even, for a while, the King of afternoon. One of them was nine years old. Lilliput, what time I lay a furious, helpless She had yellow hair and her eyes were the Gulliver, tied up with grass. All these things color of a bee. She had woven herself belt and Jack had enjoyed immensely for the time bracelets of the long grass that grows by the being. It was easy play. All he had to do, river. And now she was sitting on her feet like for instance, when he was a pirate, was to 745 746 Everybody's Magazine remember what piracy our eyes and Margaret really was. For the nor- “magicked” us. Three mal boy is the sum-total times she repeated certain of his race. And when mystic words known to all he is let alone -- when the Wise Folk. 'Tis an the Grown-ups don't evident fact that children bother-he can remem- know things, remember ber all things his ances things, long ago forgotten tors have been, back to by the Grown-ups. So the yellow-toothed, when we were properly hairy, vehement thing magicked we opened that chattered in a tree. our eyes and found our- And that was the way with Jack. Now, selves walking, two by two, in a narrow street however, the weight of life was upon him that led to an open garden with seven trees --tedium vita. “I want to do someving and four marble seats and wide paths radi- else," he said gloomily; “why don't you find ating from a fountain. And there a dozen someving else?” The third of the Wise children, kilted in white wool, played im- People was Jill, a two-year-old, supple and memorial games. Had it not been for the white and fat. It was her destiny in life to way they were dressed, I do not think we repeat whatever Jack said first; she added should have known that we were in the Rome “somevin' else" and grinned cheerfully. of Augustus, for the games and the toys were Whereupon Margaret stopped singing and those of the world we had sailed away from said gravely, almost reprovingly, “Yes, it is in the flat-bottomed boat. One little Roman time you found something else, now.” whipped a boxwood top; and another trun- (That is the beautiful thing about the Wise dled a metal hoop hung with tiny bells; and a Folk. They have a calm conviction that third rode a stick with a horse's head. Little everything is due them. This belief is im- Roman girls were playing hide-and-seek among bedded in child nature as a triangle is in a the ancient trees. No one paid any attention circle. They have, rightly enough, an in- to us; indeed, we had been so well magicked stinctive feeling that they are superior to the that they could neither see nor hear us. Jack Grown-ups; so they order them about and tagged after a young Roman who was driv- claim what is due.) ing a team of mice hitched to a little wagon “All right, something else!” I said, and lay of wood. He saw delightful possibilities of on my back and thought darkly. The Wise trouble in that game. The rest of us sat down Folk respected the operation. At last I an- soberly and watched the hide-and-seekers. nounced: “We'll go to Rome.” 'Twas the same way we had played it by the “Rome?” Jack said dubiously, and Jill river. One little girl covered her eyes with echoed "Wome?" and grinned. her hands and waited until the others were hid But I insisted. I knew what I was talking away; then she shouted “Ready!” and darted about. Anything may happen in Rome! about trying to discover them and “tag" 'Tis a strange place! (Once I was smoking them before they could reach “home.” We a cigar in the Colosseum, when night fell; knew that game, and we watched it with ap- suddenly the silence was torn by the noise of proval; we might have been sitting there yet trumpets, and a cohort of skeletons in gilded if Jack had not appeared, breathless and chariots came rushing by with screams of stammering with excitement. triumph; behind the chariots hung “Vat boy is goin' home,” he said; broken weapons and fading laurel "hur-r-ry! hur-r-ry!” leaves and crowns. In dust and He set off running and of course windy speed they passed, and, for we followed. Jill grinned in her a moment, Rome triumphed once placid way, but Margaret's face again; then in the Colosseum there was dark with care. was only darkness, and silence fell.) “If Jack gets lost or gets 'un- Anything may happen in Rome. magicked' or something, I'll never So we set out. We climbed into dare to face my kind parents," she the flat-bottomed boat and pushed said. “Oh, do keep up with him!” it out into the stream to the length So we ran. Jack's blue and white of the rusty chain. Then we shut sailor suit was just disappearing Children of the Long Ago 747 under the portico of a brick house with a big running, and the great orator thrust his head wooden upper story. There were some bigger out of a wooden window and roared. Jack, children-half Grown-ups of twelve and thir like all other boys, has plenty of courage if you teen-playing “court” under the portico; at give him time to think it over, but this was far least that is what it looked like, for there were too abrupt. He dived at Margaret for pro- a prisoner and a judge and a lanky boy mak- tection and we swept him out into the street. ing a speech; but of course we couldn't stop There Margaret shook him and threatened to listen. Jack had followed the mouse-driver to unmagic him and send him home if he let into a big open courtyard beyond and-for- go her hand once; only Jill was unperturbed getting he was magicked-had squatted down —she grinned cheerfully and said: "I thaw a by his side and joined in a game of marbles. bwack man.” 'Twas played with nuts, but 'twas the same Of course after that we were very careful. game the little Italian children play to-day We even talked in whispers, though that was with marbles. And this was the way of it. perfectly ridiculous, as nobody could hear us, The mouse-driver had drawn a triangle on the because we shouldn't be born for thousands of, ground; like this: years. There was a toy-shop, I remember, at a corner, near a big, oblong space that Margaret said was a forum. The little street going by the front of the shop was called the Vicus Tuscus, but why it was called that we couldn't find out. It was narrow and shady and many people walked there. It was hard work dodging them, for we didn't dare let go hands. There were women with flowers in their hair, who smiled at the old senators; On the first line he had placed two nuts, on and there were young men in loose togas the second three, on the others four and five. coming from the baths; and slaves in brown Then he knelt down a yard away robes; and philosophers in sandals, from the apex of the triangle, and and water - sellers, and boys who shot a nut out of his curled fore- pretended to read the circus adver- finger. Now his object was to roll tisements on the pillars. Then there the nut across as many lines as was the shop with an awning of possible without sending it out of light cloth, and rows upon rows of the triangle. If he passed the first dolls, lying down or sitting up or line he gained two nuts, while if he hanging by the hair. 'Twas won- passed all the lines he won all the derful. Some of the dolls looked nuts. Jack watched him try it three like the old senators and some like times. Then when the nuts were the women with garlands of flowers. nicely arranged he stepped in ahead And some could bend their knees of the mouse-driver and fired away. and elbows; and some had legs like Of course that Roman boy couldn't matches. Those with real hair, and see Jack. There were several rea- eyes made with bits of blue sea- sons. In the first place Jack was shell, were so beautiful they made magicked. In the second place, this hap- Margaret's heart ache; she called them pened in the Rome of Augustus-indeed “motherless darlings." Jill of course only 'twas in the atrium of that great orator stood on her fat legs and grinned. That's Asinius Pollio—and Jack couldn't possi- her way, and there's really no use in mag- bly be born for some two thousand years. icking her. There was one doll, with corn- Anyway, those are reasons enough why the colored hair and a red Phrygian cap, that mouse-driver couldn't see him. What he did looked so much like Margaret that Jack and see was a nut that lifted itself in the air and I winked at each other. He still felt rather was shot by an invisible thumb and fore- angry about the shaking (but after all if a finger straight into the triangle, driving the fellow's sister can't shake him for his soul's well-ordered nuts to right and left like nine- good, who can?); however, he said: “You pins. Roman as he was, he started up with a can r-r-reach it-nip it for-r-r her-r-r!” scream that echoed round the atrium. All (Jack has the rolliest "r's" to be found out in a second a black slave in a while shirt came of Scotland.) 748 Everybody's Magazine I nodded back approval of petty larceny. into the big space that Margaret insists was But the shopkeeper was leaning against the the Forum Vetus. There Jill sat down with- door-post, cutting his finger-nails with a little out warning, beat her knees together, and knife. He was a big, fat man in a dark tunic, wailed: "I want my milk! I want my muy- and looked as though he loved his property. ver— muvver!” So, regretfully, Margaret Moreover, we hadn't sight-seen round the unmagicked us. Three times she said the shop yet. There were all kinds of gay- mystic words backwards; and lo, we were colored balls, hard-stuffed with feathers so sitting in the flat-bottomed boat by the bank they would bounce divinely; there were tops of the little river in far-away Normandy. and swings and hoops. Jill rubbed the tears out There were beds and of her eyes and repeat- couches and tables for ed: “I want my milk! dolls; there were toy I want my milk!” The chariots, and whistles rest of us looked at one made to look like wolves another and pretended and pigs and cocks and we had been dreaming horses; there were jump- – as indeed we might ing - jacks and wooden have been had it not Roman soldiers; there been for the Roman doll were “jacks”-only they with the corn - colored were made of bones hair and the Phrygian from the feet of sheep. cap and the eyes like Then the rattles and Margaret's eyes — and drums hers are the color of a As we stepped out past bee. There was no the toyman, Jack nudged dream about that. You me and pointed to the never saw a dream that doll that looked like moved its arms and Margaret. legs and had hair that “Nick it!” he said, would curl. We made and because I subtly a bed for the doll knew he meant it for a peace-offering—and in the locker of the boat; for we thought anyway it was two thousand years ago and I it just as well not to take it up to the wasn't born yet—I turned petty larcenist and house yet—Grown-ups ask such silly ques- nicked it. Then we ran; and we came out tions. THE. SWALLOWAND-THE-AMBER-MONKEY F course that was only our with a wooden crocodile that opened and first journey. There were shut its awful, crimson jaws—and cracked nuts many others. Oftener than like mad. I might as well confess though, o not we left Jill at home. She that no matter how potent the magic is- was a mere child-aged two and Margaret's was the best and strongest -and no matter how severely you magicked white magic ever made—there must be one her, she'd spoil everything by howling for of the magicked who knows just where to go milk and “muvver” at most inopportune and what to see. Now I happened to be that times. There never was such an appetite one who knew where to go. That was because as Jill's. She'd turn the Appian road into a during a shameful period of my life I was a milky way. Margaret and Jack and I, how- Grown-up and fooled my time away on books ever, magicked ourselves into all sorts of instead of playing reasonable games with the places—why, once we sat with little Tahoser, Wise Folk. So I knew many things. For the daughter of the High Priest Petamunoph instance, how ghoulish Grown-ups had gone in far-away Egypt, and played for a long time down into the ancient tombs of Egypt and Children of the Long Ago 749 found a little girl wrapped in world-old cere- ments. (So long ago she lived that then the sunlight in which we walk had not yet started upon its journey toward the earth.) And beside the little girl they found a mirror of metal and ivory rings and all her toys. There was her ball; and beside it a little jumping jack, dressed like a fisherman, and a quaint wooden doll, draped in a yellow linen dress— a familiar little doll, for the paint has been kissed off the cheeks and one wooden foot has been broken and mended again. That was why we magicked ourselves to Egypt—to play with the little daughter of the High Priest and with her crocodile and her doll and a wonderful rattle with a head of lapis lazuli. And unless I had known of these things beforehand, how could we have found them? Every holiday, of course, I had to discover something new. It was not always easy, for the musty old historians — they are all on the bookshelves yonder in Latin and Greek-never took the trouble to write about children. Read them from one end to the other and you will come to the absurd conclusion that the affairs of that old world were carried on solely for Grown- ups. What the Wise Folk said to one an- other; what games they played; what toys .—with inquiring wisdom—they broke; what perils they faced in dark corners of the nursery—there is hardly a word of all this. Fortunately the artists, who never quite grow away from the Wise Folk, painted and carved these things for us. They are recorded in terra-cotta. And then those sad little tombs of the Wise Folk, whose very dust has van ished, have given up their secrets. See, here is a tiny ivory alphabet. They laid it beside their little man in his tomb, with his lead centurions and his toy buckler. And I know another child who played at "priest," as children play "church” in these days; in his box of toys were found miniature statues of the divinities, miniature oxen and sheep, miniature knives for the sacrifice; and there, too, was a terra-cotta pig that made a noise when he blew through it-perhaps to summon the faithful. Childhood has always been the same. The Wise Folk are the eternal con- servatives. The baby's rattle is primeval. And what games were played in Babylon are played to-day in Omaha—the top spins and the ball bounds.. There was one fair custom of old. Toys were cheap or costly, but they were all marked with the good workman's fancy, for machine-made things did not exist; so each toy-doll or drum, sistrum, or floating duck —was stamped with in- dividuality. Now the kindly Grown - up had the toys of his tiny son or daughter reproduced in miniature in silver or lead; and these dainty re- productions of the child's toys were hung (like ban- gles) on a necklace which was worn all day. Do you know what purpose it served? Margaret and Jack and I found out one afternoon when we were magicking in Athens. There was rumor of a lost child. And the town-crier, jangling a mighty rattle, halted and cried aloud-not a description of the Lost One, but a list of the toy images she had worn on her necklace. They found her and comforted her with white figs. (The name of that lost child was Pa- læstra, and Plautus wrote one of his hundred and twenty plays about her.) Eternal conservatives—here is a painted ser- pent and the mask of that bogey man, Orestes, that a Greek boy played with before there was any Christmas in the world; and here are his toy hatchet, the cutting edge dented deep in desperate play; a mule with panniers, a scorpion in painted wood, clay pigs and horses and birds out of what Ark I know not. You see the Wise Folk who go back into that antique world would feel quite at home, for nothing has really changed for them. Why, one afternoon Margaret, Jack, and I met a band of barefoot children singing through the Athenian streets. It had been St. Basil's day when we magicked ourselves, so it must have been in the spring. Each of the barefoot youngsters held in his hand a wooden swallow. 'Twas a curious toy with a hollow handle in 750 Everybody's Magazine which was a wheel; round the wheel ran a string which flut- tered the swallow's wings. Shouting and whirling the wood- en birds, they trooped along. At each door they paused and sang: “She comes, she comes, the swallow, The messenger of Spring; White on the belly Black on back and wing." “They are like the Christmas waits," said Margaret. And always they laughed and shouted: “Here is the swallow! Spring has come! Rejoice, re- joice! Give us fried nuts—for we have come to tell you Spring is here! Our swallow promises you much wine and oil. Give us a tart for the swallow-a roasted cake for the swallow who brings back the Spring!” So with nuts and cakes they went their way. (The Scottish children play that game to-day; once a year when hogmenay comes round.) That was very interesting. Another day we watched the girls playing cot- tabus, which is the prettiest game in the world, as we saw it played by slim maidens. They were in a white marble court and the sunlight fell upon them. There was a queer sky over- head. It was pale and blue as Sheffield steel. Neither Mar- garet nor I can ever forget the sky or the marble court or the sunlight on the slim girls; and when we are Grown-ups and learn to paint we shall make a picture of it. Especially of Kinné. For she had sca-colored eyes and copper-colored hair; and she wore a short white chiton and had laid aside the outer garment which Margaret told me was a chlanis; and per- haps it was. I think Kinné was ten years old, but she was play- ing at cottabus in order to find out if some Greek lad loved her true. This is the way it was: There was a small statue of Eros standing upon a white pillar. Above him was suspended a sil- ver balance, one scale being ex- actly over the mocking bronze head. Now Kinné, standing quite five feet away, filled a wine-cup and threw the wine so that it struck the balance and bore it down till it touched the head of Eros. Then Kinné screamed with delight and the other girls cried: “He is true to you, O Kinné! Praise be to Eros!” “Praise be to Eros!” Kinné repeated. “And here, O Kinné, is the prize you have won by your skill and good fortune.” The girl who said that had black eyes and red lips; laughing, she gave Kinné the prize. 'Twas a tiny amber monkey, with his thumb in his mouth. (He grins at me from a corner of the inkstand as I write, for a French archeologist found him in Kinné's tomb- the amber monkey — and be- cause I was there when she won it at cottabus, he kindly gave it to me.) Very marvelous were the toys of Kinné. She showed them to us that day, though she thought she was quite alone. There were mechanical toys; Margaret called them “eolipyles"; — the Wise Folk know these things. One of them was a copper vase, with a long thin neck sticking straight up in the air; when Kinné put it on the fire, the water boiled and the steam came up through the neck and atop of it a light ball danced the mad- dest dance imaginable. And there was a wooden dove; it had to be wound up and then it flew round the room and clicked its wings as it flew. What we liked best were the ivory toys. Above all, the ivory chariot, so wee, so wee-a fly could have covered it with his wings. (Shakespeare might have given it to Queen Mab.) That was the day—or perhaps it was another time-it rained in Athens; so, because Children of the Long Ago 1751 Margaret had promised to be careful of her new hat with the green ribbons and leaves, we ran for shelter. There were a lot of boys going that way. They were bare-legged, sandaled little fellows; over their chitons they wore short round cloaks and on their heads they had big, broad- rimmed hats like sombreros. They were all talking at once, but not very loud. And they kept looking at a bigger boy with eyes full of respect. They went into a kind of temple-a small one—and we dodged after them. There was a priest, too, who had word with the bigger boy, but his Greek was so bad we couldn't make out what he said. At last the bigger boy strode manfully up to a white divinity in marble, who, by the winged hat and winged heels, we knew to be the roguish god Hermes; and very distinctly the boy said: "I am Philokles, O Hermes, and I consecrate to thee my re- bounding ball, my loud-sound- ing rattle, the jack-stones I liked so well, my swift-going top, all the toys of my childhood.” At the god's feet he laid his toys and went away—a Grown- up. And this seemed very sad, even when it had become quite familiar to us. We knew that Philokles had gone out of our magic world forever. Such things happened more than once. Once upon a time Mar- garet and I walked hand in hand down an avenue of pop- lars. High above us towered a mountain of white marble; be- low us was a sandy shore, yel- low as wrapping-paper, and, beyond, an azure sea stretched away to Asia. Somewhere we heard young voices, chanting a grave song; and between the tree-stems white-clad figures moved like shadows; but when we came to the place, they had vanished. What we found was a shrine of Aphrodite, and at her feet were spread the tiny dresses of a doll. And the votive prayer read: “O Aphrodite, do not despise the purple dresses of my dolls! I, Sappho, consecrate to thee these precious offerings!” So we knew that we had come to Lesbos the very day when Sappho ceased to be one of the Wise Folk and entered the ab- surd Grown-up world. Somehow or other as the days went by—for school interferes seriously with the important business of life - our magic seemed to lose a little of its power. Jack and I once went to Sparta to witness a tug-of-war. And that was worth while! Then we heard them talking about something they called sphæromachia. Jack thought that meant a ball-battle, so we went along. It turned out to be football. The girls played, too, which disgusted us at first, for girls are useful but not strong. Then just as we were getting warmed up to the game—a young Spar- tan with a fox gnawing at his breast had made a stunning touchdown — just at that mo- ment, I say, something snapped and we found ourselves back in front of the wood-fire and the old chimney-place in Normandy -staring at each other, Jack and I, like idiots. We couldn't make out what had happened to us. So we consulted Margaret. She said: “Since I've begun German I'm not so good a magicker as I used to be." Jack said: “You br-r-ung us back too quick!” “What if I couldn't have brought you back at all! Think of that! What if the magic had stopped short while you were in Sparta and you could never come home again to your kind and gen- erous parents and would have to stay there forever and ever " Jack looked serious. “And of course none of the Spartans could see you because 752 Everybody's Magazine away you'd still be a magicked copper-colored hair, nor child, and they couldn't the Lesbian twilight-it give you anything to was stained with amber eat and you'd starve and violet-through which Sappho fled like a doe. These awful words Never again. Only we seemed to find a way to shall think of them very Jill's sense of trouble; she often, as we think of the flopped down in her firm other Wise Folk we have and sudden manner and known on our way through knocked her knees together and roared for the world. In the years, perhaps, Jack will milk. When she was fed and her grin had come to think of it as a dream; that will be reappeared, we considered the matter. There when he is a Grown-up. But Margaret and was a great deal in what Margaret had said. I-always we shall know better. And if ever Even Jill saw that. At last we all stood up a faint doubt comes to her, she will go to the Then we spun round on our heels three times: old chest of drawers in the Norman nursery -it was a solemn and tragic moment—and and take out a yellow-haired doll in a red said something that unmagicked us forever. Phrygian cap; then the doubt will vanish; Forever and ever. And we shall never see the for that is the doll we nicked in Rome (the mouse-driver again, nor the waits who sang shop was in the Vicus Tuscus) two thousand the song of the swallow, nor Kinné with the years ago, in the reign of Augustus. T.H.E · W·H•l·T·E · A•R•M•Y NLY childhood is eternal. one ends and the other begins. And it seems When I had written those like an endless procession, ever-changing and words I laid down my pen eternal—the white army of childhood. Some- and stared into the wood times magic falls upon them. That hap- fire; a minute passed. It is pened once seven hundred years ago. There strange, when you come to think of it: in that were thousands of very small children. Some- minute a hundred human thing called to them like beings were born, a hun- the voice of a bird. From dred died; the calculation Germany and Flanders was made long ago; it is and France they set out exact; in one hour six on a pilgrimage to the thousand corpses fall on Savior's tomb in Jeru- your way through life and salem. Tiny pilgrims six thousand new voices they were, with birchen take up the wistful song of humanity. Every staves and crosses of wooden flowers; tiny hour this little army of the Wise Folk marches pilgrims in white garments. They filled the into the world. I had never road like a swarm of thought of it that way be- white bees. And as they fore. So it marches down marched toward the sea the road of the years—with —to death or captivity- games and laughter, with they sang the songs of tears and cries—and Him they sought in far- crosses the frontier of off Judea. Now, in all Grown-up-Land and is lost history there is nothing so from sight in the shadows. inexplicable as this Chil- And another white army dren's Crusade. It has follows in an hour. You always been a stumbling- can hardly make out where block to the historian; it Children of the Long Ago 1753 is a dark riddle to the scientist; to the theo- brought us word of furtive slave-children logian it is a divine mystery. Perhaps after playing a silent game with shells and verte- all it was only a symbol of this army that bræ in the corner of a muddy court; the wall marches each hour down the way of the world was made of bricks and an African sun beat —the army of those who march, singing, into down. I never saw those slave-children, but the captivity of Grown-up-Land. when Margaret told me about them I knew it Only childhood is eternal. Only the Wise was true for she is one of the Wise Folk. Folk live forever And for the Wise Folk neither time nor space Always there are three children dreaming nor other grim fictions of the Grown-ups exist in a flat-bottomed boat on the river or yonder at all. They wander where they will and in front of the great Norman chimney-piece, bring back strange old truths-like handfuls and what they dream is true. Once Margaret of flowers. EN D In Cloak of Gray By ALFRED NOYES I OVE'S a pilgrim, clothed in gray, L And his feet are pierced and bleeding; Have ye seen him pass this way Sorrowfully pleading? Ye that weep the world away, Have ye seen King Love to-day? Yea; we saw him, but he came Poppy-crowned and white of limb! Song had touched his lips to flame And his eyes were drowsed and dim; And we kissed the hours away Till night grew rosier than the day. Hath he left you?-Yea; he left us A little while ago; Of his laughter quite bereft us And his limbs of snow! We know not why he went away Who ruled our revels yesterday! Because ye did not understand Love cometh from afar, A pilgrim out of Holy Land Guided by a star; Last night he came in cloak of gray Begging! Ye knew him not! He went his way. 754 . ..au AN OLD-FASHIONED REAPER IN SOUTH GERMANY. The Romance of the Reaper By HERBERT N. CASSON Author of “ The Romance of Steel and Iron in America,” etc. EDITOR'S NOTE.—Bread is a nation's first essential. Cities, railways, factories, must all be built upon Bread. It is on this basis that Mr. Casson, in the series of which this is the first article, attributes America's prosperity in large measure to the Reaper. For it is the Reaper, born of the brain of young Cyrus H. McCormick, on a backwoods Virginia farm, that has made America the best fed nation in the world, that gave us twelve thousand million loaves of bread to eat in 1906. The account of its origin, of the inventor's heroic crusade, of the great wheat-fields that the Reaper has developed, and the great industries that have sprung up in its wake, is an absorbing romance, a true fairy tale of American life. THE Story of the Reaper is a story of leviathan bites a twelve-foot roadway through U modern magic. The magicians are the grain with its sharp teeth and ties the plain, unmysterious American farmers. Their sheaves with its steel fingers. Four strong wand, their enchanted lamp, is a great, noisy, horses may be needed to move it—this giant bright-painted mechanical monster. And machine—but in all the great yellow field is the magic that has been wrought is the miracle no human being save the man who sits of modern civilization and the alleviation of comfortably on the harvester, driving. Or the world's hunger. it may be a woman, or even a child. And in For tens of centuries men garnered their seventy-six years the Reaper has reduced harvests by hand, stooping—a score or more the time-price of harvesting wheat to ten of them in a small field—to snip, snip with minutes a bushel! hand-sickles at the stalks that should yield There you have it: the secret of the magic. them bread. Behind these workers came Again of two hours and fifty minutes for others, laboriously binding the grain into every bushel of wheat, and a release to other sheaves. And every bushel required in the industries of nine laborers in ten. Or even gathering three hours of a man's time, a larger number, for in the far West there are Then came the Reaper—and to-day a harvesters that do more work in a day than 755 1756 Everybody's Magazine salt or a glass of water. There is no "penn'orth of bread” in the bill, as in Falstaff's day. To-day, when the human race is growing wheat at the yearly rate of ten bushels a family, we can hardly believe that until recently the main object of all nations was to get bread; that life consisted in a search for food. Yet, cut the kings and their retinues out of history and it is no exaggera- tion to say that the human race was hungry for ten thousand years. Even of the Black Bread, burnt and dirty and coarse, there was not enough; and the few who were well fed took the food from the mouths THE VIRGINIA WORKSHOP WHERE THE FIRST MCCORMICK of slaves. Even the nations REAPER WAS MADE IN 1831. that produced Galileo and La- place and Newton were haunted twenty laborers using the sickle's big and by the ghosts of Hunger. Merrie England swifter brother, the scythe. was famine-swept in 1315, 1321, 1369, 1438, Translated, this means, primarily, vastly 1482, 1527, 1630, 1661, and 1709. To have more wheat. That is a simple matter of enough to eat was to the masses of all nations mathematics, a problem too obvious to require a dream-a Millennium of Prosperity. statement. It means for America the de- This long Age of Hunger outlived the velopment of the magnificent grain-lands of great nations of antiquity. Why? Because the West, where three States—Minnesota and they went at the problem of progress in the the Dakotas—to-day produce enough wheat wrong way. to feed all the people of England. It means If Marcus Aurelius had invented the the New Farmer and the wonders of scien- reaper, or if the Gracchi had been inventors tific agriculture. It means great cities, with instead of politicians, the story of Rome gigantic mills, and manufacto- ries that create new wealth at the rate of sixteen billions a year. It means American pros- perity. And, above all, the Reaper has not only made the Ameri- can nation the best fed in the world, but it has moved all the civilized peoples up out of the bread-line, and raised the whole struggle for existence to a higher plane. Life is still a race-al- ways will be; but the prizes now are gold watches and steam- yachts and automobiles, not merely bread. Even the hobo at the back door scorns bread, unless we accompany it with meat and jam. In our hotels it is thrown in free of charge, as though it were a pinch of IN THE NEW WHEAT-FIELDS OF ARGENTINA. The Romance of the Reaper 757 would have had a happier ending. But Rome said—The first thing is empire. Egypt said —The first thing is fame. Greece said–The first thing is genius. Not one of them said —The first thing is Bread. a stolid drudge—“brother to the ox.” Even the masterful old Pilgrim Fathers had no plows at all-nothing but hoes and sharp sticks, for the first twelve years of their pioneering GATHERING IN THE HAY HARVEST AT THE FOOT OF THE HIMALAYAS. Why this was so, why agriculture, the first industry to be learned, and so obviously (from this side of the Reaper) the most fundamental, was the last to be developed, is one of the most baffling mysteries of history. One marvels at it afresh as one stands before a certain glass case in the Egyptian quarter of the British Museum, wherein is a little group of farm utensils—a fractured wooden plow, a rusted sickle, two sticks tied together with a leathern thong, and several tassels that had hung on the horns of oxen. To be sure, these implements were used three thousand years ago—they were found in the tomb of Seti I.— but one remembers that when Egypt was using these bread-tools, no better than those of the barbarians about her, she had a most elaborate government, an army and navy, and art and literature. The records and relics of other nations, down through history, show the same strange incongruity. For thousands of years the wise men of the world absolutely ignored the problems of the farm. A farmer re- mained either a serf or a tenant. He was And therefore for thousands of years there was Hunger. Hunger, moreover, not only in far-off ages and countries, not only in the England of 1709, but in America, within the memory of men and women now living. In 1837 there were wheat bounties in Maine and bread- riots in New York City. Flour-mills were closed for lack of wheat. Starving men fell in the streets of Boston and Philadelphia. Mobs of laborers, maddened by the fear of famine, broke into warehouses and carried away sacks of food. Even in the Middle West —the prairie paradise of farmers—many a family fought against Death with the seri's weapon of Black Bread. But, six years earlier, the click of the first reaper, on a backwoods farm in Virginia, had sounded a menace to famine and a promise of future plenty-a promise of the year 1906, when we eighty-five millions of people should eat twelve thousand million loaves of bread — seven bushels of wheat apiece, and should yet send a thousand mil- lion dollars' worth of food to other nations. 758 Everybody's Magazine At that time, 1831, the American people champagne. Chicago was a twelve-family were free, but they held in their hands the village. There was no West nor Middle West. land-tools of slaves. They had to labor and Not one grain of wheat had been grown in sweat in the fields, with the crude implements Minnesota, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Colorado, that had been produced by ages of slavery. Kansas, Washington, Nevada, Idaho, Mon- For two generations the sick.es, flails, and tana, New Mexico, Oregon, Utah, Arizona, wooden plows, with which they had tried to Wyoming, Oklahoma, or Texas. build up a prosperous republic, had held This was the America to which came the back agricultural progress. Let us try to re- Reaper. Like most great things, it had its construct mentally the America of those days. origin among humble people. No one man Enterprise was not then a national charac- made it. It was the product of a hundred teristic. The few men who dared to suggest brains. improvements were persecuted as enemies of The exact truth about its beginnings is not society. The first iron plows were said to known and never will be. What few facts poison the soil. The first railroad was torn there were have been torn and twisted by up. The first telegraph wires were cut. the bitter feuds of the Patent Office. Every The first sewing-machine was smashed. And letter and document that exists is contro- the first man who sold coal in Philadelphia versial. So I cannot say that the story, as was chased from the state as a swindler. I give it, is exact in every detail, but only Even the railway was a dangerous toy. that it is as near as I can get to the truth The telegraph was still a dream in the brain after six months of investigation. of Morse. John Deere had not invented his The first patent for a practical reaper was steel plow, nor Howe his sewing-machine, given to Obed Hussey, an inventive seaman nor Hoe his printing-press. There were no of Nantucket, in 1833. The second was stoves nor matches nor oil-lamps. Petroleum given to Cyrus H. McCormick, the son of a was peddled as a medicine at $1 a bottle. Virginia farmer, in 1834. But there is Iron was $75 a ton. Money was about as enough evidence to show that young McCor- reliable as mining stocks are to-day; and all mick had completed his reaper and given a the savings in all the banks would not now public exhibition of it in 1831. buy the chickens in Iowa. Nearly a hundred people saw this exhibi- The total exports amounted to no more tion. But not one of them is now alive; and than we paid last year for diamonds and the story was told to me by their children. A MODERN SELF-BINDER THAT SIMULTANEOUSLY CUTS AND BINDS THE GRAIN. CYRUS H, McCORMICK, THE CHIEF PIONEER OF THE REAPER. It was in the fall of 1831, they say, that that threatened to deprive them of the right Cyrus McCormick hitched four horses to his to work—the precious right to work sixteen unwieldy machine and clattered out of the hours a day for three cents an hour. barnyard into a field of wheat near by. The field was hilly and the reaper worked Horses shied and pranced at the absurd badly. It slewed and jolted along, cutting object, which was unlike anything else on the the grain very irregularly. Seeing this, the face of the earth. Dogs barked. Small boys owner of the field—a man who was Ruff by yelled. Farmers, whose backs were bent and name and rough by nature-rushed up to whose fingers were scarred by the harvest McCormick and shouted -“Here! This labor, gazed with contemptuous curiosity at won't do. Stop your horses. Your machine the queer contraption that was expected to is rattling the heads off my wheat.” cut grain without hands. “It's a humbug,” bawled one of the A little group of negro slaves had spasms laborers. “Give me the old cradle yet, of uncomprehending delight in one corner of boys!" exclaimed a round-shouldered farmer. the field, not one of them guessing that The negroes turned handsprings with de- “Massa” McCormick's comical machine was light, and the whole jeering mob gathered cutting at the chains that bound their chil- around the discredited machine. dren. And a noisy crowd of white laborers Just then a fine-looking man rode up followed the reaper up and down the field with on horseback. The crowd made way as he boisterous enmity; for here was an invention came near, for they recognized him as the 759 The Romance of the Reaper 1761 reap, and which lay in rusty disgrace near the the world needed was a man who was strong barn-door. and dominating enough to force his reaper “Often I have seen Robert McCormick upon the unwilling laborers of the harvest standing over his machine," said one of his fields. neighbors, “ studying and thinking, drawing Tenacity! · Absolute indifference to defeat! down his under lip, as was his habit when he The lust for victory that makes a man un- was puzzling over anything." His friends conscious of the blows he gives or takes! ridiculed him for wasting so much time on a These were what was needed, and what gave foolish toy, until he became half ashamed to Cyrus McCormick his high place among of it himself and quit his experimenting in the men of genius and power who have made the daytime. But at night he and Cyrus America what she is. hammered away in the little log workshop, Tenacity! It was born in him. Back of like a pair of conspirators. him was the hardiest breed that was ever The romantic mystery of these midnight mixed into the American blend—the pick of labors made an indelible mark on the brain the Scots who fought their way to the United of the boy. He grew up serious and self- States by way of Ireland. These Irish Scots, contained — quite unlike the boys of the few as they were, led the way across the neighborhood, unpopular, and indifferent to Alleghenies, founded Pittsburgh, made a trail his unpopularity. Abhorring the drudgery to Texas, and put five Presidents in the of the farm, he delighted in any work thatWhite House. had an idea behind it, and was always busy And tenacity was bred, as well as born, into making or mending some piece of machinery. Cyrus McCormick. He went barefooted as One morning he surprised his teacher by a boy, not for lack of shoes, but to make him bringing to school a tough. “I want my twenty-inch globe of boys to know how to wood, which turned endure hardship,” on its axis as the earth said his mother. He does, and had the seas sat on a slab bench and continents out- in the little log school- lined in ink. house and learned to “That young fellow read from the Book of is ahead of me,” said Genesis. He sang the amazed teacher. psalms with forty At fifteen Cyrus verses, on Sundays, had invented a new and sat as still as a grain cradle. At graven image during twenty - one he im- the three-hour ser- proved a machine mons, for his father that his father had was a Presbyterian of made to break hemp. the old Covenanter And at twenty-two brand. this country boy, So it came to pass who had never seen a that Cyrus McCor- college, a city, or a mick clung to his railroad, constructed reaper, as John Knox the first practical clung to his Bible. The American rea per. It making of reapers be- was a clumsy make- came to him more shift, as crude as a than a business. It Red River ox-cart, but was a creed-a relig- it was built on the ion—an eleventh com- ONE OF McCORMICK'S RIVALS. right lines. It was mandment. By the not at all handsome nor well made nor sat time he was thirty he had become a nine- isfactory, but it was a reaper that reaped. teenth-century Mahomet, ready for a world crusade. His war-cry was-Great is the McCormick soon discovered, however, that Reaper, and McCormick is its prophet. , it was not enough to invent a reaper. What Like Mahomet, he had his visions of future OBED HUSSEY, 762 Everybody's Magazine glory. On one occasion, while riding on Best of all, an order for eight had ccme horseback through a wilderness path, the from Cincinnati. These were the first reap- dazzling thought flashed upon his mind- ers that were sold outside of Virginia. They “Perhaps I may make a million dollars from were seen by the more enterprising farmers this reaper.” This idea remained for years of Ohio and created a sensation wherever the driving-wheel of his brain. they were used. Cyrus, who was now a pow- Also, like Mahomet, he had a period of erful, broad-chested man of thirty-six, caught preparatory solitude. Soon after the first ex- a glimpse of his opportunity and sprang to hibition of his reaper, he bought a tract of seize it. He saw that the time had come to land and farmed it alone, with two aged leave the backwoods farm-forty miles from negroes as housekeepers. Here he lived for a blacksmith, sixty miles from a canal, one more than a year with no companion except hundred miles from a railway. So, with his reaper. . $300 in his belt he set out on horseback for The two things of which he stood most in the West. need were money and cheaper iron. So, Here he saw the prairies. To a man who after thinking over the situation in his lonely had spent his life in a hollow of the Alle- cabin, he decided to build a furnace and ghenies, the West was a new world. It was make his own iron. His father and a neigh- the natural home of the reaper. The farmers bor joined him in the enterprise. They built of Virginia might continue forever to harvest the furnace, made the iron, and had taken their small, hilly fields by hand; but here, the first steps toward success when the finan- in this vast land-ocean, with few laborers and cial earthquake of 1839 shook them down an infinity of acres, the reaper was as indis- into the general wreckage. The neighbor, pensable as the plow. To reap even one of who had been made a partner, signed over these new states by hand would require the his property to his mother, and threw the whole working population of the country. whole burden of the bankruptcy upon the Also, in Illinois, McCormick saw what McCormick family, crushing them for a time made his Scotch heart turn cold within him- into an abyss of debt and poverty. he saw hogs and cattle feeding in the autumn Cyrus McCormick gave up everything he wheat-fields, which could not be reaped for owned to the creditors-everything except his lack of laborers. Five million bushels of reaper, which nobody wanted. With the wheat had grown and ripened-enough to rest of his family, he slaved for five years to empty the horn of plenty into every farmer's save the homestead from the auctioneer. home. Men, women, and children toiled day Once the sheriff rode up with a writ, but and night to gather in the yellow food. But was so deeply impressed with their energy the short harvest season rushed past so and uprightness that he rode away with the quickly that tons of it lay rotting under the dreaded paper still in his pocket. hoofs of cattle. Up to this time Cyrus had not sold one It was a puzzling problem. It was too reaper. As Mahomet preached for ten years much prosperity-a new trouble for farmers. without converting any one except his own In Europe, men had been plentiful and relatives, so Cyrus McCormick preached the acres scarce. Here, acres were plentiful and gospel of the reaper for ten years without men scarce. Ripe grain—the same in all coun- success. Then, in 1841, he sold two reapers tries—will not wait. Unless it is gathered for $100 apiece. The next year seven daring quickly, in from four to ten days, it breaks farmers came to the McCormick homestead, down and decays. So, even to the dullest each with $100 in his hands. minds, it was clear that there must be found This brilliant success brought the whole some better way of snatching in the harvest. family into line behind Cyrus, and the The sight of the trampled wheat goaded farm was transformed into a reaper factory. McCormick almost into a frenzy of activity. Twenty-nine machines, “fearfully and won- He rode on horseback through Illinois, Wis- derfully made,” were sold in 1843, and fifty consin, Missouri, Ohio, and New York, pro- in 1844. There were troubles, of course. claiming his harvest gospel and looking for Some buyers failed to pay. A workman who manufacturers who would build his reapers. was sent out on horseback to collect $300, From shop to shop he went with the zeal ran away with horse, money, and all. But of a Savonarola. none of these things moved Cyrus. At last, One morning, in the little town of Brock- after thirteen years, he was selling reapers. port, New York, he found the first practical binor let 764 Everybody's Magazine clouds, and McCormick found his path and cramming the barns with 50,000,000 flooded with sunshine. He was no longer a bushels of grain. wanderer in the night. He was the Reaper N o history of the reaper can be complete King—the founder of a new dynasty. As without a reference to Mrs. McCormick, soon as possible he bought out Ogden and formerly Miss Nettie Fowler, of New York. established a one-man business. By 1851 he She has been for fifty years, and is to-day, was making a thousand reapers a year, and one of the active factors in our industrial de- owned one-tenth of the million dollars he had velopment. Her exact memory and keen dreamed of in the Virginian wilderness. His grasp of the complex details of her husband's pioneer troubles were over. There were no business made her practically an unofficial more thousand mile rides on horseback, no manager. She suggested economies at the more conflicts with jeering crowds, no more factory, stopped the custom of closing the reapers smashed by farm laborers. The re- plant in midsummer, and on several occasions peal of the Corn Laws in England had opened superintended the field-trials in Europe. up a new market for our wheat; and the dis- covery of gold in California was booming the MRS. McCORMICK AND THE BIG ENGINE reaper business by making money plentiful and labor scarce. Chicago may not know it, but it is true that Suddenly McCormick looked up from his the immense McCormick factory there owes work in the factory, and saw that he was its existence to Mrs. McCormick. After the not only rich, but famous. One of his reap- Big Fire of 1871, when his $2,000,000 plant ers had taken the Grand Prize at a World's was in ruins, McCormick thought of retiring. Fair in England. Even the London Times, He still had a fortune of three or four millions which at first had ridiculed his reaper as “a and he was sixty-two years of age. His cross between an Astley chariot, a wheel- managers advised him not to rebuild, because barrow, and a flying-machine," was obliged of the excessive cost of new machinery. to admit, several days later, that “the McCor- As soon as the fiery cyclone had passed, he mick reaper is worth the whole cost of the and his wife drove to the wrecked factory. Exposition.” Several hundred of the workmen gathered Seventeen years later, on the imperial farm about the carriage, and the chief engineer, near Paris, Napoleon III descended from acting as spokesman, said: “Well, Mr. his carriage and fastened the Cross of the McCormick, shall we start the small engine Legion of Honor upon McCormick's coat. and make repairs, or shall we start the big There was a picture that some American- engine and make machines?” souled artist, when we have one, will delight Mr. McCormick turned to his wife and to put on canvas. How splendid was the said: “Which shall it be?” It was a breath- contrast, and how significant of the New less moment for the workmen. Age of Democracy, between the suave and “Build again at once," said Mrs. McCor- feeble Emperor, enjoying the sunset rays of mick. “I do not want our boy to grow up in his inherited glory, and the strong-faced, idleness, I want him to work, as a useful rough-handed Virginian farmer, who had citizen, and a true American.” built up a new empire of commerce that will “START THE BIG ENGINE," said McCor- last as long as the human race shall eat bread! mick. The men threw their hats in the air and cheered. They sprang at the smoking débris, and began to rebuild before the cinders A DREAM REALIZED were cold. From first to last, the stout-hearted Reaper S uch was the second birth of the vast King received no favors from Congress or the factory, which, in its sixty years, has created Patent Office. He built up his stupendous fully 5,000,000 harvesters, and is now so business without a land grant or u protective magically automatic that, with 6,000 work- tariff. By the time that his Chicago factory men, it can make one-third of all the grain- was ten years old, he had sold 23,000 reapers, gathering machinery of the world. and cleared a profit of nearly $1,300,000. Practically nothing has been written about The dream of his youth had been realized, Mr. McCormick from the human nature and more. All told, in 1859, there were 50.000 side. He was one of those Cromwellian men reapers in the United States, doing the work who can be appreciated only at a distance. of 350,000 men, saving $4,000,000 in wages, He was too absorbed in his work to be The Romance of the Reaper 765 genial and too aggressive to be popular. But bed against his doctor's orders, that he might most of the really great men of his day were pay tribute to his former antagonist. his friends – Horace Greeley, for instance, “McCormick's first reapers were a failure,” and Peter Cooper, Junius Morgan, Abram said he, speaking slowly and with great S. Hewitt, Cyrus W. Field, and Ferdinand de difficulty; "and he owed his preeminence Lesseps. Among the men of his own trade, mainly to his great business ability. His however, he stood hostile and alone. enemies have said that he was not an inven- “McCormick wants to keep the whole tor, but I say that he was an inventor of reaper business to himself. He will not live eminence.” and let live," said his competitors. And they McCORMICK'S MISSION had reason to say so. He did want to dominate. He wanted to make all the So, as in the gray haze of years we trace harvesting machines that were made-not one the larger outlines of his work, we can see less. He was not at all a modern “com- that McCormick was especially fitted for munity-of-interest” financier. He was a a task that, up to his day, had never been man of an outgrown school-a consistent done, and that will never need to be re- individualist, not only in business, but in peated during the lifetime of our earth. His politics and religion as well. There was no business was his life. On one occasion, when compartment in his brain for mergers and a friend was joking him about his poor judg- combines, for theories of government own- ment in affairs outside of his business, he ership, for higher criticism and the new whirled around in his chair and said emphat- theology. He was a Benjamin Franklin ically—“I have one purpose in life, and only commercialist, a Thomas Jefferson Democrat, one-the success and widespread use of my and a John Knox Presbyterian. machines. All other matters are to me too He had worked harder to establish the insignificant to be considered.” reaper business than any other man. He He made money-ten millions or more. was making reapers when William Deering, But a hundred millions would not have who was to be his chief competitor, was bribed him to forsake his reaper. It was as five years old, and before Ralph Emerson much a part of him as his right hand. In and William Whiteley were born. He had several of his business letters he writes as graduated into success through a fifteen- though he had been a Hebrew prophet, year course in failure. The world into which charged with a world message of salvation. he was born was as hostile to him as the “But for the fact that Providence has Kentucky wilderness was to Daniel Boone, seemed to assist me in all our business," he or the Atlantic Ocean to Columbus. He was writes on one critical occasion, “it has at hard-fibered, because he had to be. He was times seemed that I would almost sink under the thin end of the wedge that split into the weight of responsibility hanging upon fragments the agricultural obstacle to social me. I believe the Lord will help us out.” progress. Not that he left to Providence any detail to which he could personally attend. He was a “A BULLDOG ” Puritan of the “trust-in-God-and-keep-your- powder-dry” species. A little farther along Of all the men who fought him in the in this same letter he writes—"Meet Hussey earlier days, there are only two now alive— in Maryland and put him down." Ralph Emerson, of Rockford, Illinois, and William N. Whiteley, of Springfield, Ohio. REAPER KING AND NATION-BUILDER Both of these men to-day generously give. the old warrior his due. The fountain-springs of his life were wholly “McCormick was the first man to make the within. He acted from a few basic, un- reaper a success in the field,” said Whiteley, changeable convictions. If public opinion the battle-worn giant of Ohio, where I found was with him, he was gratified; if it was him still at work. “McCormick was a against him, he thought no more of it than fighter-a bulldog, we called him; but those of the rustling of the trees in the wind. were rough days. The man who couldn't “When any one opposed his plans and fight was wiped out.” showed that they were impossible,” said one Ralph Emerson, now one of the most of his superintendents, "I noticed that he venerable figures in Illinois, rose from a sick- never argued, he just went on working." 766 Everybody's Magazine Small and easy undertakings had no believe it. They shook their heads and said, interest for him whatever. It was the im- “Another American story!" when they were possibility that enraged and inspired him. told that we were supporting two vast armies When the Civil War was at its height, he and and yet selling other nations enough grain to Horace Greeley, who was very similar to him feed 35,000,000 people and sending three in this respect, actually believed that they times as much wheat to England as we could stop it. They had several long con- had ever sent before. Naturally, no country ferences in the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New that clung to the sickle and flail could be con- York, and in 1864 McCormick went so far vinced of such a preposterous miracle. as to prepare a statement of principles that he fully believed would restore peace and THE WORLD'S DINNER-TABLE harmony between the North and the South. Such was this massive, unbendable Ameri- After the war, the mighty river of wheat can. It would make many a book to tell in that flowed from the West began to turn the detail the effect of his life-work upon the wheels of 14,000 flour-mills. Rich cities progress of the United States. Truly, it was sprang up, like Aladdin palaces, beside its a New World that had been created, for the banks-Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Mil- people alike of the farms and of the cities, waukee, Minneapolis, Kansas City, St. Paul, in the year that the victorious old Reaper Omaha, Des Moines. All of these, and a King was carried to his grave, with a sheaf hundred lesser ones, were nourished into of wheat on his breast. prosperity by the rising current of reaper- As Seward once said, it was the reaper that wheat, as it moved from the Mississippi to “pushed the American frontier westward the sea. at the rate of thirty miles a year." The By 1876 we had become the champion reaper clicked ahead of the railroad, and food-producers of the world. A Kansas civilization followed the wheat, from Chi- farmer was raising six bushels of wheat with cago to Puget Sound, just as the self- as little labor as an Italian spent to produce binder is leading the railroad to-day-three one. And one doughty Scot, Dalrymple of hundred miles in front in Western Canada, Dakota, was cutting more wheat with 400 and eight hundred miles in Siberia. Even laborers and 300 harvesters, than 5,000 peas- so unyielding a partizan of the railroads as ants could garner by hand. Marvin Hughitt admitted to me that “the Inevitably, the American farmer became reaper has not yet received proper recognition a financier. In 1876 he earned twenty-four for its development of the West.” per cent. He had twenty-seven hundred During the Civil War the reaper was doing millions to spend. By 1880 he had begun the work of a million men in the grain-fields to buy so much store goods that the United of the North. It enabled a widow, with five States was able to write a Declaration of In- sons, to send them all to the front, and yet dustrial Independence. Every year he has gather every sheaf into the barn. It kept the grown richer and wiser, until now he is the wolf from the door, and more-it paid our owner of a billion-acre farm, worth $30 an European debts in wheat. It wiped out all acre, operated with farm machinery that cost necessity for negro labor in the wheat states, him $900,000,000 and producing yearly 7,000 just as a cotton-picker will do, some day, in times the value of a millionaire. the South. Such, in one country, is the amazing result that the Reaper has helped to create. And MECHANICAL SLAVES this is not all. It is fighting back famine in fifty countries. Its click has become the "The reaper is to the North what the music of an international anthem. The na- slave is to the South,” said Edwin M. Stan- tions are feeding one another, in spite of ton in 1861. “It releases our young men their tariffs and armies. The whole world to do battle for the Union, and at the same takes dinner at one long table; the fear of time keeps up the supply of the nation's hunger is dying out of the hearts of men; bread.” and the prayer of the Christian centuries is Lincoln called out every third man, yet being answered—“Give us this day our the crops increased. Europeans could not daily bread.” In the January number Mr. (asson will tell the story of The Bałtle of the Reaper Kings. The Old House Beyond the Hills By JULIA KENNETT Illustrations by Alonzo Kimba 11 THERE'S a little story of De Maupas- loose girth or a gate to be opened, as one might 1 sant's that I always specially liked — speak to a groom. But he wasn't a groom. If and doubted, until a while ago. Now I know he had been, it would have been better, they it might really have happened, and I'm glad said one could at least have had the satisfac- to be sure, for it's the nicest little tale about tion of being able to classify him. He was not two people who ran away together from the quite a farmer, either, though he bred a few “beau monde" and lived forgotten in Corsica, horses somewhere and sold a hunter now and just as peasants, without any of the things that again. At this point whoever was relating they'd been used to—and they'd had about the tale would lower her voice and draw closer all there was. Years and years after, some to me. “My dear, all this is not the worst of man of their own world, but of a generation it," she would murmur; "he was a particularly later, found them very old and perfectly impossible young man, marked with an un- happy, caring just as much for each other deniable bar-sinister; it was always rather try- as they had when he was a brilliant young ing to know that he was about at all. You officer with a racing stable, and she was a see, thirty years ago or thereabouts there was great lady and a beauty, regretting nothing a most hideous scandal here; we needn't rake but that they were old, and could not expect up the details of it; they were sordid enough. to be together very much longer. It was fairly well kept in hand at the time, I don't know why this idea should par- however, and had been nearly forgotten when ticularly have appealed to me. I couldn't do all this brought it up again. There is not the what that woman did; I should know better shadow of a doubt that the young man—they than to try. But perhaps my just under- never mentioned him by any name, perhaps standing it a little was why I was allowed because he hadn't a real one—is the son of to see something that has been good to re- the man who was of the most importance in member ever since. this part of the world in those days. He is dead now, and the boy was provided for in the When I married Bob and came to the Hill- will in a small way; this is known absolutely. river country, I found the last echoes of a Taken all together, could one imagine a more romantic tale—not a scandal exactly, and not thoroughly unpleasant situation?" so very romantic either, as it was told to me- I was obliged to admit that I could not. dying out among the local gossip. It seemed Naturally, the place had rocked upon its that a girl who had spent the autumn hunting foundations when the thing first became with the Hewitts (they had left Hillriver before known. The Hewitts, feeling responsible, I came) had married and run away with a had nearly gone out of their minds, all the young man whom Hillriver pronounced im- more that Miss Maitland had no people of possible. No one had supposed that she even her own, except a terribly austere and high- knew him to speak to, unless, perhaps, about a born aunt who expected to marry her bril- 767 768 Everybody's Magazine liantly. The girl was a beauty-one in a person had pulled out and gone home, we thousand, it appears; the equivalent of a coro- suddenly found, and the pack split. I clung net or several millions at the lowest. I never to Hale, the huntsman, and his band of heard what the aunt did; nothing, probably hounds; and we were almost immediately con- Miss Maitland was of age and unhampered, fronted by a horribly sheer gully-a veritable having no money of her own and so no chasm. Hale went into it, and as for the trustees. And besides, she and her husband others, whether they slipped down or went on had utterly vanished; no one seemed to know purpose I'm not sure, but at any rate we saw what had become of them. I fancied, that the them no more that day. “We” meant world at large and one intensely aristocratic Donovan — the whip — and I. We went family in particular were not ill pleased to round the gully, and thinking we heard the have it so. All this happened about two hounds just ahead, sped toward the sound- years before the November day when the at least Donovan sped. I suppose Bob has hounds met at a place called Wilderness his reasons for appreciating Monitor; cer- and rightly named it was !-miles beyond our tainly he's a fine type of heavyweight to look regular country. at, very painstaking, and he can jump-in his Bob was away, and all my own horses own fashion-but he gives one the sensation being laid up with various small mishaps, I that I imagine trying to cross country on a sent one of his on overnight with a groom. traction engine might. While he was solemn- I heard later that the horse spent the night in ly dragging his great feet out of the sticky a cowshed, and I observed for myself that the plow and heaving himself ponderously over man had spent it in the local bar. By start- little stone walls about two feet high, Donovan ing at dawn, I got to the meet partly by on his weedy little thoroughbred disappeared. driving and partly by a loathsome little train, Then I distinctly heard hounds in a bit of as did every one who was rash enough to wood to the right. Monitor and I got there try the experiment. The less said of that in time, but the hounds were no longer either day's hunting the better. The country was in sight or in hearing. We lumbered out over impossible to ride-steep gullies in every a broken-down fence with a ditch on the far direction, which you had to follow to the end side, well masked by briars, into which Moni- once you were in them-and sometimes there tor blundered badly, and then I found my- wasn't any end. The native who was sup- self on one of the streaks of bottomless mud posed to be our guide, mounted on a woolly that represent roads in those parts. Not a white horse whose legitimate occupation was soul was in sight, so I turned in what seemed betrayed by glaring collar and trace marks, the general direction of home and set out was a poor witless creature who constantly for it. kept getting lost. We wandered drearily With some effort I roused Monitor to his about for hours and lost a lot of hounds. unspeakable trot, which sent clods of mud and Sometimes we went through groves of huge showers of yellow water all over me, only to old pines and up little streams where the find that he was lame. The scramble in the horses climbed staircases of slaty blue rock- ditch had done it, of course. As we went on, I was afraid finally to hang over Monitor's he grew lamer, on purpose probably, though shoulder any more to scan his stout gray legs one might have supposed he'd have wanted for cuts; I was only too likely to find them- his evening meal. I wanted mine. sometimes we burst through primeval under- I hadn't the slightest idea where we were, growth and came out on high places, where we nor how far from any village. The sun had saw divinely lovely lines of violet-blue hills gone down and there was only a long strip of stretching away against the pale autumn sky. cold greenish sky under the heavy clouds in At other times we plowed through fields, the west, which threw a steely reflection on up to the horses' hocks in the holding clay of the water in the yawning wheel-ruts; presently the little valleys; we'd had a lot of rain it would be pitch-dark. that year. But there seemed to be no such Far down the road was something that thing as a fox anywhere. Whoever had looked like a barn, and back from it there lured the master into bringing his hounds to seemed to be a house with trees almost hiding that forsaken country was an admirable judge it. Obviously, ihe thing to do was to get of scenery, but a grim humorist on the subject there as soon as possible; but by the time that of hunting. we had plodded through the sucking, slippery Late in the afternoon, when every sane clay to it, the darkness had pretty well come. The Old House Beyond the Hills 769 Monitor turned in willingly at the gate. need." I was terrified at the idea of some There was a gleam of light under the great ancient and probably irritable dame, out- double doors of the barn, and as if he had raged at having a strange and muddy woman heard me, a man came out with a lantern, a thrust upon her by the reckless hospitality collie rushing past him in a frenzy of barking of the master of the house. at the big horse. The man quieted it with He unbuckled the girths and took the a stern word, and I waited for him to recover saddle off Monitor, felt his clipped coat, and from his astonishment as Monitor and I threw a heavy rug over him. stood before him, flooded in the light of his “He's dry,” he said, "all but the mud, lantern. We were far beyond the zone of Where is he lame?" farmers who are used to the sight of lost “Behind," I answered; "it's a strain, I hunting people. Before I could speak, he think.” said, “You have been hunting and lost the “We'll let it alone for the present,” he said, hounds? Let me—” but I interrupted to watering the horse and turning him into a box, ask how far I was from Wilderness. Eleven where he instantly began tearing down the miles, he said. And the nearest village? hay in the rack. He had no disquieting Whitechurch; and it was only a church and a delicacy. My host bolted the door and post office and a cottage or two. I explained picked up his lantern. that my horse was lame-could he let me have “I'll give him his grain presently," he said; a horse and trap of some sort ? It would have “you must let me take you to the house now.'' been a dreadful thing to ask, considering those I noticed that he had put my saddle down roads, even if I had offered to give him the right end up. He hadn't a farmer's way with value of the conveyance afterward. And horses, either. Could he have been in a good somehow I couldn't say anything of the kind stable at some time or other, I wondered. to this man, though he looked like the ordi- But he certainly hadn't addressed me as nary small farmer. "madam.” On the way up to the house I Instead of answering, he took Monitor by told him who I was and where I lived. There the bridle and led him into the barn; then, was a pause. “My name is Whitby," he said coming round to the near side, he unfastened in a curiously colorless voice. The name the straps from my boot-heel and slipped my conveyed absolutely nothing to me, but I saw foot from the stirrup. that I was expected to recognize it. “Let me take you down,” he said simply; “I'm very bad at remembering names,” I "you won't think me disobliging, but I am said; "you know my husband, perhaps?” alone here—the only man, I mean—and there “Yes,” said he, "I've met Mr. Forcyth.” are reasons—I can't leave the farm to-night. That was all. Besides, you couldn't get to Wilderness for We were at his doorstep by now. It hours over these roads, and there's no fit was a very old house, white and square. All place for you to stay if you did. And you I could really see was an exquisite fan- couldn't reach Hillriver to-night in any case.” shaped transom above the door, and long He seemed to know everything, and I meekly strips of leaded glass at the sides, with light let him break my descent from Monitor's streaming through them. mighty back, having long since learned not to “You must be tired and hungry," he said, oppose Fate, whose representative this un- as he opened the door. known man appeared to be. The hall was bare, and a flight of stairs "I am sure we can make you comfortable with a graceful curving hand-rail of dark here,” he went on;“at least it's much the best polished wood went up at the far end. You thing for you to do. We should be only too know the instant impression the atmosphere glad,” he added quickly. He seemed hesitat- of a house makes as you come into it? In ing and hospitable, both at once. Naturally, this one the air was very fresh and pure, I protested, but it was quite idle-I couldn't a little cold, with a faint scent of wood-smoke; sit in the mud all night, and there was nothing short of real violets--not hothouse ones- to do but accept what was offered me. I nothing is better. And I knew what the could only thank this firm and kindly person, air of most farmhouses is like. while I felt most keenly the awkwardness of a From above there came a little sound-a self-invited guest, as one may well imagine. sound that no one misiakes who has once “My aunt is with me,” continued my host; heard it. I'm not a creature of sentiment; "she will be able to give you whatever you but what woman who has ever had a child mize it. The Old House Beyond the Hills 7771 does not give a little start at the cry of a glad if you would go up to see her, Mrs. quite new baby? My Robin was then eight Forcyth, after you've had your tea.” months old. I suppose I must have been burning with I turned quickly to my host. “Yes," he unconscious curiosity, since the suggestion said, “a little daughter-iwo days old.” pleased me so much, but I felt bound to say, “Oh,” I said, "you should have told me. “Surely it will disturb her to see a stranger; I must be a dreadful trouble-just now.” had I better not stay away?” “It was time enough to tell you when you “Please go," he said, “if you are not too got to the house,” he said. “My dear lady, tired. She asked me to bring you.” He went could I let you spend the night on the road?” before me up the stairs and knocked at a door By this time he had brought me into a very softly. Some one answered, and he pushed beautifully proportioned old room, with very the door open and stood aside to let me pass, little in it but a heap of rose-red coals in a not going in himself. I can't tell what made fluff of white ashes on the wide hearth. I me feel the reverent tender way of it so keenly suppose I should have uttered more useless -it was nothing, and it was exquisite. The protests and apologies, but he was gone. room was dimly lighted by a low, smoldering I sat down before the fire, realizing that I fire and a candle in an old bell-glass on a little was very tired. Every muscle in my body table. clamored with aching memories of Monitor's “Thank you for coming; it's good of you,” hideous trot and too conscientious methods of said a low-pitched voice from the pillows of jumping; and I had had but one small sand- the great bed. My hostess turned her head, wich since seven o'clock that morning. and in the soft candle-glow I saw her face. I looked about me. The few pieces of old It made me catch my breath. We all furniture were admirable. Then a book on dream loveliness, I suppose, but so seldom the table caught my eye. In spite of my see it, that when we do it is with a kind of stiffness I had it in my hand in a moment. keen shock. I could not believe that any one Was I dreaming? It was Bédier's Tristan was as she seemed to me, all white and golden; et Iseut. I certainly was dreaming, for a her face was like a pearl. You hear that said motherly old person with her hair screwed of surfaces as opaque as cream. But her face into a button above her benevolent face, and a —the light seemed actually to shine through it; figure flowing away into vastnesses happily or had it a soft light of its own? Her hair was undefined in her gray print gown, came a pale gravish gold, like some rare metal that bustling in, full of homely hospitality. She might be gold and silver together. But it let me know at once that she was totally deaf. wasn't merely her perfect tinting nor the But evidently her nephew had made her lovely lines of her that made me feel as if a understand the situation very clearly, for she hand had suddenly taken tight hold of my led me away to where were poached eggs and heart and squeezed it; it was the look tea and toast-the best I ever tasted. While she gave, first at me, and then downward I was having tea, though it couldn't have been where a tiny red crumpled face and a downy far from my normal dinner-hour, my host little head showed close against her shoulder, came back. He was full of kindly interest in all swathed about in flannel. The little face my appetite and told me that Monitor's was seemed crimson as she touched it with her even better. I was consumed with com- white hand. punction for all the trouble I was giving, and “My daughter would apologize to you if she said so. could, for the poor welcome we give you, I could see him distinctly now, as he sat since it's her fault,” she said, looking up at across the table from me: a thin, lightly made me again through her eyelashes, which were man of about thirty, with a sharply cut, ir- of an incredible length. regular face, all evenly colored the faint clear She motioned to a low chair beside the bed. red that fair skins turn with outdoor life. “Will you sit there?” she said. “You must His hair was reddish, too, and he was not in be so tired, you and the big horse.” Evident- the least good-looking, intrinsically, but quite ly she knew all about us. “Tell me about apart from his hospitality-and no grand your adventures.” I thought she spoke as seigneur's, given the circumstances, could a very great lady, some wonderfully gracious have been greater-I liked him to a quite un- princess. might. reasonable extent. “There were no adventures," I answered; Presently he said: “My wife would be very “only a very bad day's hunting, and I was *2 Escritory's Viazazise 18*, *** - 55" mt B is an 15.3., 6.6 .T K - e " THE ...: E.-2.4 -2 % . PP22 , I., fa'e. I rare er ***, ;';' ,'* 7*. V. Err.ba I .K 97474; 12.6 1. Á me; serta 142%" he a . Te aza...- Der wif, ra':.*?! , at me- gentie. 07*. 1 . "Yes " tener! 05."1:s 220 , 11, v aririino (ne sike it. reitner a sinqe feron nor ite *rd at larze. V *161 062 ha, marind that comioratie od word. OLEM , withdraw, as quickly as f* , buiting the door very softly and Carofilis behind one-- if one had distured ar, ciderly irritable person." Then I knew this was Elizałyeth Jaitland. "A few vers courteous people may do that." I maid. “But mort of the others sit down before the world to sold it for being stupid and irritable.” "They're unjust then,” she said. “How should it understand anything but its own plans and arrangements? It's a kindly old pen really, it fully intends that there shall b plenty of happy women who have found l'umi in the appointed places. But iſ some one woman finds him where the world did not expect her to, it's naturally surprised and annoyed; and since it is only regretfully that we annoy re-pected old persons, the least we can do iting not to be put out with them for bring annoved." I thought that iſ the world, even the austere old dowager that we pictured it, could have ween her on the serene Jovely good-humor of her, for all its dislike of inconvenience it must have understood a little, as I did. I could only be as simple as she was. “Yes, I've heard something of you-natu- rally," I said, “but perhaps I understand bet- ter than the others, just seeing you here—you two). May I have her to hold a little?" I asked, stretching out my hands for the baby. She let me take her, very carefully, and I sat and held the delicious soft bundle, which uttered wonderfully grown-up tiny sighs and sniffs, and blinked at the candle rays until I pulled a fold of Mannel between the little face and the light. The flannel smelled of iris, and the little head, when I laid my cheek against it, was like heavenly warm velvet. The baby's mother lay sull, watching us; I don't think she knew how tender hereves were. Quite sudden- ly she said: “It will be red, don't you think?" There was anxiety in her voice, as though all oi aiseeece S TA I . e m . *** ce - Ter** Wes el "It wiele szed cirocre taa t ceece." ce sa: "bas i 74: "ee- ír me tu a-s; # Jarin mas there. V taas tat icere 125.** te voke her busbard - pare, we beard t sies in the 12-a ze 00: e. He v think Ian with you too long," I said, getting uşard lazing the baby beside her. "No," he said, taking my hard and locis irg up at me. I never imagined such ever- the grar of a summer rair-cloud. "It's been good to see you; you seem like a messenger, a very kindly, understanding messenger from that old word we spoke of. Oi course the world did not mean to send one, and has forgotten me, so I send no message in return. If I were to send one, it would only be that I am happy-without anything it can give. But that would not be a polite message to an old queen, would it? Marin!"-she raised her voice a litile. He came in and stood beside the bed's head, looking down at her. As his wife's face turned to him with the light on her clear throat and cheek and the upward sweep of her shining hair, I saw a little quiver about his mouth and chin, but that was all. She said: “Do you think we could make our guest believe how glad we are of her coming, if we told her both together, Martin?" He put out his hand and just touched hers. “Mrs. Forcyth will believe anything you say, dear, I think,” he said, smiling at me. I liked hearing him say it, and I knew that I was seeing a beautiful thing- just seeing with- out really understanding. I was still thinking of it when I was alone in the bare white room ther gave me. And that good old aunt! She had brought me a great blue jug of really hot water, and while the dressing-table was spread with a coarse cloth embroidered in red cotton with an art- less design of kittens, there was a brush of tortoise-shell with a little gold E. M. on the back, laid out upon it, with other neces- sities. Folded on my pillow was a night- gown of sheerest batiste, worn to cobweb soft- ness, and I saw that the fine lace of its frills was all raveled away. I don't know why a little thing like that should have touched me so. Perhaps I was not quite myself, for after I had put out my light I lay awake, aching with fatigue and listening to the rush of the SHE SPOKE AS MIGHT A VERY GREAT LADY-SOME WONDERFULLY GRACIOUS PRINCESS. 773 Bomen of the Bible) g ang . Hugo Ballin Judith Andre Castaigne Ruth 1.0. Tanner 758 Everybody's Magazine At that time, 1831, the American people champagne. Chicago was a twelve-family were free, but they held in their hands the village. There was no West nor Middle West. land-tools of slaves. They had to labor and Not one grain of wheat had been grown in sweat in the fields, with the crude implements Minnesota, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Colorado, that had been produced by ages of slavery. Kansas, Washington, Nevada, Idaho, Mon- For two generations the sick es, fails, and tana, New Mexico, Oregon, Utah, Arizona, wooden plows, with which they had tried to Wyoming, Oklahoma, or Texas. build up a prosperous republic, had held This was the America to which came the back agricultural progress. Let us try to re- Reaper. Like most great things, it had its construct mentally the America of those days. origin among humble people. No one man Enterprise was not then a national charac- made it. It was the product of a hundred teristic. The few men who dared to suggest brains. improvements were persecuted as enemies of The exact truth about its beginnings is not society. The first iron plows were said to known and never will be. What few facts poison the soil. The first railroad was torn there were have been torn and twisted by up. The first telegraph wires were cut. the bitter feuds of the Patent Office. Every The first sewing-machine was smashed. And letter and document that exists is contro- the first man who sold coal in Philadelphia versial. So I cannot say that the story, as was chased from the state as a swindler. I give it, is exact in every detail, but only Even the railway was a dangerous toy. that it is as near as I can get to the truth The telegraph was still a dream in the brain after six months of investigation. of Morse. John Deere had not invented his The first patent for a practical reaper was steel plow, nor Howe his sewing-machine, given to Obed Hussey, an inventive seaman nor Hoe his printing-press. There were no of Nantucket, in 1833. The second was stoves nor matches nor oil-lamps. Petroleum given to Cyrus H. McCormick, the son of a was peddled as a medicine at $1 a bottle. Virginia farmer, in 1834. But there is Iron was $75 a ton. Money was about as enough evidence to show that young McCor- reliable as mining stocks are to-day; and all mick had completed his reaper and given a the savings in all the banks would not now public exhibition of it in 1831. buy the chickens in Iowa. Nearly a hundred people saw this exhibi- The total exports amounted to no more tion. But not one of them is now alive; and than we paid last year for diamonds and the story was told to me by their children. SC A MODERN SELF-BINDER THAT SIMULTANEOUSLY CUTS AND BINDS THE GRAIN. 760 Everybody's Magazine Honorable William Taylor-a conspicuous and famous, he was rudely disappointed politician of that day. The local excitement soon died out, and one "Pull down the fence and cross over into old woman expressed the general feeling by my field,” he called to young McCormick. saying that young McCormick’s reaper was THI: LARGEST OF HARVESTERS, CALLED A HEADER, WHICH CUTS TWELVE FEET OF GRAIN AT A TIME. “I'll give you a fair chance to try your ma- “a right smart curious sort of thing, but it chine." won't come to much." McCormick promptly accepted the offer, McCormick was at this time a youth of drove into Taylor's field, which was not so twenty-two. Like Lincoln, he was born hilly, and cut the grain successfully for four in a log cabin—but in Virginia. He was or five hours. This was the first grain that bred from a fighting race. His father had had ever been cut by machinery in the wrenched a living from the rocks of Vir- United States. ginia for his family of seven children. His When he arrived home that evening, grandfather had fought the English in the Cyrus thought that his troubles were over. Revolution. His great-grandfather had been He had reaped six acres of wheat in less than an Indian fighter in Pennsylvania; and his half a day—as much as six men would have great-great-grandfather had battled with a done by the old-fashioned method. He flint-lock against the soldiers of James II., had been praised as well as jeered at. “Your at the siege of Londonderry. reaper is a success," said his father, "and Robert McCormick, the father of Cyrus, it makes me proud to have a son do what I was himself fairly famous in his county as could not do." the inventor of a hemp-brake, a clover- Two Big Men had given him approval - huller, a bellows, and a thrashing-machine. William Taylor and a Professor Bradshaw, The one persistent ambition of his life was of the Female Academy in the town of Lex- to invent a reaper. It is also true, and a tid- ington, Virginia. The professor, who was a bit of a fact for those who believe in pre- pompous and positive individual, made a natal influences, that during the year in which solemn investigation of the reaper, and then Cyrus H. McCormick was born, his father announced, in slow, loud, and emphatic tones: first began the actual construction of a reap- —“That-machine-is worth—a hundred- ing-machine. “Reaper" was one of the first thousand-dollars!" words that baby Cyrus learned to say, and But if Cyrus McCormick hoped to wake up his favorite toy, when he grew older, was the the following morning and find himself rich wreck of his father's reaper, which wouldn't The Romance of the Reaper 1761 reap, and which lay in rusty disgrace near the the world needed was a man who was strong barn-door. and dominating enough to force his reaper “Often I have seen Robert McCormick upon the unwilling laborers of the harvest standing over his machine,” said one of his fields. neighbors, “studying and thinking, drawing Tenacity! · Absolute indifference to defeat! down his under lip, as was his habit when he The lust for victory that makes a man un- was puzzling over anything." His friends conscious of the blows he gives or takes! ridiculed him for wasting so much time on a These were what was needed, and what gave foolish toy, until he became half ashamed to Cyrus McCormick his high place among of it himself and quit his experimenting in the men of genius and power who have made the daytime. But at night he and Cyrus America what she is. hammered away in the little log workshop, Tenacity! It was born in him. Back of like a pair of conspirators. him was the hardiest breed that was ever The romantic mystery of these midnight mixed into the American blend--the pick of labors made an indelible mark on the brain the Scots who fought their way to the United of the boy. He grew up serious and self- States by way of Ireland. These Irish Scots, contained — quite unlike the boys of the few as they were, led the way across the neighborhood, unpopular, and indifferent to Alleghenies, founded Pittsburgh, made a trail his unpopularity. Abhorring the drudgery to Texas, and put five Presidents in the of the farm, he delighted in any work that White House. had an idea behind it, and was always busy And tenacity was bred, as well as born, into making or mending some piece of machinery. Cyrus McCormick. He went barefooted as One morning he surprised his teacher by a boy, not for lack of shoes, but to make him bringing to school a tough, “I want my twenty-inch globe of boys to know how to wood, which turned endure hardship,” on its axis as the earth said his mother. He does, and had the seas sat on a slab bench and continents out- in the little log school- lined in ink. house and learned to “That young fellow read from the Book of is ahead of me,” said Genesis. He sang the amazed teacher. psalms with forty At fifteen Cyrus verses, on Sundays, had invented a new and sat as still as a grain cradle. At graven image during twenty - one he im- the three-hour ser- proved a machine mons, for his father that his father had was a Presbyterian of made to break hemp. the old Covenanter And at twenty - two brand. this country boy, So it came to pass who had never seen a that Cyrus McCor- college, a city, or a mick clung to his railroad, constructed reaper, as John Knox the first practical clung to his Bible. The American reaper. It making of reapers be- was a clumsy make- came to him more shift, as crude as a than a business. It Red River ox-cart, but was a creed-a relig- OBED HUSSEY. it was built on the ONE OF McCORMICK'S RIVALS. ion—an eleventh com- right lines. It was mandment. By the not at all handsome nor well made nor sat time he was thirty he had become a nine- isfactory, but it was a reaper that reaped. teenth-century Mahomet, ready for a world crusade. His war-cry was—Great is the McCormick soon discovered, however, that Reaper, and McCormick is its prophet. it was not enough to invent a reaper. What Like Mahomet, he had his visions of future 762 Everybody's Magazine glory. On one occasion, while riding on Best of all, an order for eight had come horseback through a wilderness path, the rom Cincinnati. These were the first reap- dazzling thought flashed upon his mind- ers that were sold outside of Virginia. Ther “Perhaps I may make a million dollars from were seen by the more enterprising farmers this reaper.” This idea remained for years of Ohio and created a sensation wherever the driving-wheel of his brain. they were used. Cyrus, who was now a pow- Also, like Mahomet, he had a period of erful, broad-chested man of thirty-six, caught preparatory solitude. Soon after the first ex- a glimpse of his opportunity and sprang to hibition of his reaper, he bought a tract of seize it. He saw that the time had come to land and farmed it alone, with two aged leave the backwoods farm-forty miles from negroes as housekeepers. Here he lived for a blacksmith, sixty miles from a canal, one more than a year with no companion except hundred miles from a railwar. So, with his reaper. S300 in his belt he set out on horseback for The two things of which he stood most in the West. need were money and cheaper iron. So, Here he saw the prairies. To a man who after thinking over the situation in his lonely had spent his life in a hollow of the Alle- cabin, he decided to build a furnace and ghenies, the West was a new world. It was make his own iron. His father and a neigh- the natural home of the reaper. The farmers bor joined him in the enterprise. They built of Virginia might continue forever to harvest the furnace, made the iron, and had taken their small, hilly fields by hand; but here, the first steps toward success when the finan- in this vast land-ocean, with few laborers and cial earthquake of 1839 shook them down an infinity of acres, the reaper was as indis- into the general wreckage. The neighbor, pensable as the plow. To reap even one of who had been made a partner, signed over these new states by hand would require the his property to his mother, and threw the whole working population of the country. whole burden of the bankruptcy upon the Also, in Illinois, McCormick Saw what McCormick family, crushing them for a time made his Scotch heart turn cold within him- into an abyss of debt and poverty. he saw hogs and cattle feeding in the autumn Cyrus McCormick gave up everything he wheat-fields, which could not be reaped for owned to the creditors-everything except his lack of laborers. Five million bushels of reaper, which nobody wanted. With the wheat had grown and ripened-enough to rest of his family, he slaved for five years to empty the horn of plenty into every farmer's save the homestead from the auctioneer. home. Men, women, and children toiled day Once the sheriff rode up with a writ, but and night to gather in the yellow food. But was so deeply impressed with their energy the short harvest season rushed past so and uprightness that he rode away with the quickly that tons of it lay rotting under the dreaded paper still in his pocket. hoofs of cattle. Up to this time Cyrus had not sold one It was a puzzling problem. It was too reaper. As Mahomet preached for ten years much prosperity-a new trouble for farmers. without converting any one except his own In Europe, men had been plentiful and relatives, so Cyrus McCormick preached the acres scarce. Here, acres were plentiful and gospel of the reaper for ten years without men scarce. Ripe grain--the same in all coun- success. Then, in 1841, he sold two reapers tries—will not wait. Unless it is gathered for $100 apiece. The next year seven daring quickly, in from four to ten days, it breaks farmers came to the McCormick homestead, down and decays. So, even to the dullest each with $100 in his hands. minds, it was clear that there must be found This brilliant success brought the whole some better way of snatching in the harvest. family into line behind Cyrus, and the The sight of the trampled wheat goaded farm was transformed into a reaper factory. McCormick almost into a frenzy of activity. Twenty-nine machines, “fearfully and won. He rode on horseback through Illinois, Wis- derfully made," were sold in 1843, and fifty consin, Vissouri, Ohio, and New York, pro- in 1844. There were troubles, of course. claiming his harvest gospel and looking for Some buyers failed to pay. A workman who manufacturers who would build his reapers. was sent out on horseback to collect $300, From shop to shop he went with the real ran away with horse, money, and all. But of a Savonarola. none of these things moved Cyrus. At last, One morning, in the little town of Brock- after thirteen years, he was selling reapers. port, New York, he found the first practical The Romance of the Reaper 763 men who appreciated his invention-Dayton S. Morgan and William H. Seymour. Morgan was a handy young machinist who had formed a partnership with Seymour, a prosperous storekeeper. They listened to McCormick with great interest and agreed to make a hundred reapers. By this decision they both later became millionaires, and also entered history as the founders of the first reaper factory in the world. Altogether, in the two years after he left Virginia, McCormick sold 240 reapers. This was big business; but it was only a morsel in proportion to his appetite. Neither was it satisfactory. He found himself tangled in a snarl of troubles because of bad iron, stupid workmen, and unreliable manufacturers. He cut the Gordian knot by building a factory of his own at Chicago. Lakes-a central market where wheat was traded for lumber and furs for iron. It had no history-no ancient families clogging up the streets with their special privileges. And, best of all, it was a place where a big new idea was actually preferred to a small old one. Chicago did not look at McCormick with dead eyes and demand a certified check from his ancestors. It sized him up in a few swift glances and saw a thick-set, ruddy man, with the physique of a heavy-weight wrestler, black hair that waved in glossy furrows, and strong eyes that struck you like a blow. It glanced at his reaper and saw a device that would give the country more wheat. More wheat meant more business, so Chicago said: “Glad to see you. You're the right man and you're in the right place. Come in and get busy.” William B. Ogden, the first THE EARLIEST TYPE OF SELF-RAKE REAPER. This was one of the wisest decisions of his life, though at the time it appeared to be a disastrous mistake. Chicago in 1847 showed no signs of its present greatness. As a city, it was a ten-year-old experiment, built in a swamp, without a railway or a canal. It was ugly and dirty, with a river that ran in the wrong direction; but it was busy. It was the link between the Mississippi and the Great mayor of Chicago, listened to his story for two minutes, then asked him how much he wanted for a half interest. McCormick had little money and no prestige. Ogden had a surplus of both. So a partnership was ar- ranged, and the new firm leaped toward prosperity by selling $50,000 worth of reap- ers for the next harvest. At last there had come a break in the 1: Eserybody's Magazine - ܗܳܝ ; t : - - r ܪ-:&- : 8ܪ ܃ ܃ rit In *ܫܶܪܕ ii ;; ; ;£: *2ever. 1tas iht "Ao SCT. TE T Kere 5 starine "2ETIZZK 2-0 i 110621 Te TEST SOR V ETES 2 ** C12:12:21 begrebeac 20 s e cs en cui. 26 Gibt , 7532. Ten C i cec 5.000.000 UE 200 Sem Tu siera 1.036 tacere site de 12 : SCI jeret, eos e FS Are He les 23: 56 SI OCCUOC- Stk. ait : ) Comi* TE 50 12 TCC s o ses 25 are a surement of Princeshat Be a ted Tere pere 2.0 EE NISINERJI 12.5. betar te Sin S a mmanste, vecanje Ameri- After be is, be TSTE Jbti: (a 1: rake mara *** to té in a speci. I 5e la beg- ise deale et Á Eis fe-work u be betis ::.000 9. 0 5 tonia P erselrited States. Tr*, it was $ITET e capazes se is a New W hat Lad y created. irite artis.S. Lui TEE - Le ate the faces and of the cities. Wazie. Vincas • Kansas C .S.FI is de star ca: tte siciones vd Reaser Orada. Les Mise e obese, ses Kisgnas carried 10 tis grare, with a staf burcred Set (be teme Derived it Uncat o urtasi. prosent iibe CTEN: TRI- As a Fe said, it sas the reader that wbea:, as i: cted in the V i o toppested the American írnier weiward ibe sea. al ise rate of biry ries a sear." The Br 150 we i tecome e Camisa rea! Cand aread of ite rais ad, and foOC-produces the së Kansas ciri izatiin í ned the wheat, irrom Chi- ja ter was raising si besi bezmá cage 10 Paget Sud, jest as the seli- as lise I as an 1:a ja se:: c c e birder is leacir.g tre raiirad todas-three ore. Add coe dieger Su Danted brdred miles in front in Western Car.ada, Dakta, Fas curing I re a i 100 ard eight hundred mies in Siberia. Even latcrers ard zoc bateses 5.000 35- sur leiding a parizan of the railroads as aris coc.d garder bs tard. Marin Hegritt admitied to me that "the Irevitab, the Azerican ia ser decare reaper has not yet received proper recognition a financier. In is-s be earned iweni-iour for its development of the West.” per cent. He tad trenir-gerer bundiai During the Civil War the reaper was doing millions to sperd. Br is he toc began the work of a million men in the grain-fields to buy so much store goods uda: the tried of the North. It er.alled a widow, wiih five S:ares was able to wriie a Declarati r. Gila- suns, 10 send them all to the front, and vet dustrial Ir.deper.dence. Every year he has gather every sheai into the bam. It kept the grown richer and wiser, ur:il he is the woli írom the door, ard more-it paid our Owner of a billon-acre iarm. werk Sio an European debts in wheat. It wiped out all acre, operated with iarm machinery that cust necessity for negro labor in the wheat states, him Suoc.000.000 ard producing rear...000 just as a cotton-picker will do, some dav, in times the value of a millionaire the South. Such, in one country, is the amazir.g result that the Reaper has helped to create. And MECHANICAL SLAVES this is not all. I: is fighting back famine in fiity countries. Iis click has become the “The reaper is to the North what the music of an international anthem. The na- slave is to the South," said Edwin W. Stan- tions are feeding one another, in spite of ton in 1861. “It releases our young men their tarifs and armies. The whole world to do battle for the Union, and at the same takes dinner at one long table; the fear of time keeps up the supply of the nation's hunger is dying out of the hearts of men; bread.” and ihe prayer of the Christian ceniuries is Lincoln called out every third man, vet being answered—“ Give us this day our the crops increased. Europeans could not daily bread." In the January number Mr. Casson wil ie!l the story of The Ba:tle of the Reaper Kings. 768 Everybody's Magazine liantly. The girl was a beauty-one in a person had pulled out and gone home, we thousand, it appears; the equivalent of a coro- suddenly found, and the pack split. I clung net or several millions at the lowest. I never to Hale, the huntsman, and his band of heard what the aunt did; nothing, probably. hounds; and we were almost immediately con- Miss Maitland was of age and unhampered, fronted by a horribly sheer gully-a veritable having no money of her own and so no chasm. Hale went into it, and as for the trustees. And besides, she and her husband others, whether they slipped down or went on had utterly vanished; no one seemed to know purpose I'm not sure, but at any rate we saw what had become of them. I fancied, that the them no more that day. “We” meant world at large and one intensely aristocratic Donovan — the whip — and I. We went family in particular were not ill pleased to round the gully, and thinking we heard the have it so. All this happened about two hounds just ahead, sped toward the sound- years before the November day when the at least Donovan sped. I suppose Bob has hounds met at a place called Wilderness- his reasons for appreciating Monitor; cer- and rightly named it was !--miles beyond our tainly he's a fine type of heavyweight to look regular country. at, very painstaking, and he can jump-in his Bob was away, and all my own horses own fashion-but he gives one the sensation being laid up with various small mishaps, I that I imagine trying to cross country on a sent one of his on overnight with a groom. Traction engine might. While he was solemn. I heard later that the horse spent the night in ly dragging his great feet out of the sticky a cowshed, and I observed for myself that the plow and heaving himself ponderously over man had spent it in the local bar. By start- little stone walls about two feet high, Donovan ing at dawn, I got to the meet partly by on his weedy little thoroughbred disappeared. driving and partly by a loathsome little train, Then I distinctly heard hounds in a bit of as did everyone who was rash enough to wood to the right. Monitor and I got there try the experiment. The less said of that in time, but the hounds were no longer either day's hunting the better. The country was in sight or in hearing. We lumbered out over impossible to ride-steep gullies in every a broken-down fence with a ditch on the far direction, which you had to follow to the end side, well masked by briars, into which Moni- once you were in them-and sometimes there tor blundered badly, and then I found my- wasn't any end. The native who was sup- self on one of the streaks of bottomless mud posed to be our guide, mounted on a woolly that represent roads in those parts. Not a white horse whose legitimate occupation was soul was in sight, so I turned in what seemed betraved by glaring collar and trace marks, the general direction of home and set out was a poor witless creature who constantly for it. kept getting lost. We wandered drearily With some effort I roused Monitor to his about for hours and lost a lot of hounds. unspeakable trot, which sent clods of mud and Sometimes we went through groves of huge showers of yellow water all over me, only to old pines and up litile streams where the find that he was lame. The scramble in the horses climbed staircases of slaty blue rock- ditch had done it, of course. As we went on, I was afraid finally to hang over Monitor's he grew lamer, on purpose probably, though shoulder any more to scan his stout gray legs one might have supposed he'd have wanted for cuts; I was only too likely to find them- his evening meal. I wanted mine. sometimes we burst through primeval under- I hadn'the slightest idea where we were, growth and came out on high places, where we nor how far from any village. The sun had saw divinely lovely lines of violet-blue hills gone down and there was only a long strip of stretching away against the pale autumn sky. cold greenish sky under the heavy clouds in At other times we plowed through fields, the west, which threw a steely reflection on up to the horses' hocks in the holding clay of the water in the yawning wheel-ruts, presently the little valleys; we'd had a lot of rain it would be pitch-dark. that year. But there seemed to be no such Far down the road was something that thing as a fox anywhere. Whoever had looked like a barn, and back from it there lured the master into bringing his hounds to seemed to be a house with trees almost hiding ihat forsaken country was an admirable judge it. Obviously, the thing to do was to get of scenery, but a grim humorist on the subject there as soon as possible; but by the time that of hunting. we had plodded through the sucking, slippery Late in the afternoon, when cvery sane clay to it, the darkness had pretty well come. The Old House Beyond the Hills 769 Monitor turned in willingly at the gate. need." I was terrified at the idea of some There was a gleam of light under the great ancient and probably irritable dame, out- double doors of the barn, and as if he had raged at having a strange and muddy woman heard me, a man came out with a lantern, a thrust upon her by the reckless hospitality collie rushing past him in a frenzy of barking of the master of the house. at the big horse. The man quieted it with He unbuckled the girths and took the a stern word, and I waited for him to recover saddle off Monitor, ſelt his clipped coat, and from his astonishment as Monitor and I threw a heavy rug over him. stood before him, flooded in the light of his “He's dry," he said, “all but the mud. lantern. We were far beyond the zone of Where is he lame?” farmers who are used to the sight of lost “Behind," I answered; "it's a strain, I hunting people. Before I could speak, he think.” said, “You have been hunting and lost the “We'll let it alone for the present,” he said, hounds? Let me—” but I interrupted to watering the horse and turning him into a box, ask how far I was from Wilderness. Eleven where he instantly began tearing down the miles, he said. And the nearest village? hay in the rack. He had no disquieting Whitechurch; and it was only a church and a delicacy. My host bolted the door and post office and a cottage or two. I explained picked up his lantern. that my horse was lame—could he let me have “I'll give him his grain presently,” he said; a horse and trap of some sort? It would have "you must let me take you to the house now." been a dreadful thing to ask, considering those I noticed that he had put my saddle down roads, even if I had offered to give him the right end up. He hadn't a farmer's way with value of the conveyance afterward. And horses, either. Could he have been in a good somehow I couldn't say anything of the kind stable at some time or other, I wondered. to this man, though he looked like the ordi- But he certainly hadn't addressed me as nary small farmer. "madam.” On the way up to the house I Instead of answering, he took Monitor by told him who I was and where I lived. There the bridle and led him into the barn; then, was a pause. “My name is Whitby,” he said coming round to the near side, he unfastened in a curiously colorless voice. The name the straps from my boot-heel and slipped my conveyed absolutely nothing to me, but I saw foot from the stirrup. that I was expected to recognize it. “Let me take you down,” he said simply; “I'm very bad at remembering names,” I “you won't think me disobliging, but I am said; “you know my husband, perhaps?”. alone here—the only man, I mean—and there “Yes," said he, “I've met Mr. Forcyth.” are reasons-I can't leave the farm to-night. That was all. Besides, you couldn't get to Wilderness for We were at his doorstep by now. It hours over these roads, and there's no fit was a very old house, white and square. All place for you to stay if you did. And you I could really see was an exquisite fan- couldn't reach Hillriver to-night in any case.” shaped transom above the door, and long He seemed to know everything, and I meekly strips of leaded glass at the sides, with light let him break my descent from Monitor's streaming through them. mighty back, having long since learned not to “You must be tired and hungry,” he said, oppose Fate, whose representative this un- as he opened the door. known man appeared to be. The hall was bare, and a flight of stairs "I am sure we can make you comfortable with a graceful curving hand-rail of dark here,” he went on; “at least it's much the best polished wood went up at the far end. You thing for you to do. We should be only too know the instant impression the atmosphere glad,” he added quickly. He seemed hesitat- of a house makes as you come into it? In ing and hospitable, both at once. Naturally, this one the air was very fresh and pure, I protested, but it was quite idle-I couldn't a little cold, with a faint scent of wood-smoke; sit in the mud all night, and there was nothing short of real violets-not hothouse ones- to do but accept what was offered me. I nothing is better. And I knew what the could only thank this firm and kindly person, air of most farmhouses is like. while I felt most keenly the awkwardness of a From above there came a little sound-a self-invited guest, as one may well imagine. sound that no one mistakes who has once “My aunt is with me," conunued my host; heard it. I'm not a creature of sentiment; “she will be able to give you whatever you but what woman who has ever had a child “MY WIFE WOULD BE VERY GLAD IF YOU WOULD GO UP TO SEE HER, MRS. FORCYTH." 770 The Old House Beyond the Hills 771 does not give a little start at the cry of a quite new baby? My Robin was then eight months old. I turned quickly to my host. “Yes,” he said, “a little daughter-two days old.” “Oh,” I said, "you should have told me. I must be a dreadful trouble-just now.” “It was time enough to tell you when you got to the house,” he said. “My dear lady, could I let you spend the night on the road?” By this time he had brought me into a beautifully proportioned old room, with very little in it but a heap of rose-red coals in a fluff of white ashes on the wide hearth. I suppose I should have uttered more useless protests and apologies, but he was gone. I sat down before the fire, realizing that I was very tired. Every muscle in my body clamored with aching memories of Monitor's hideous trot and too conscientious methods of jumping; and I had had but one small sand- wich since seven o'clock that morning. I looked about me. The few pieces of old furniture were admirable. Then a book on the table caught my eye. In spite of my stiffness I had it in my hand in a moment. Was I dreaming? It was Bédier's Tristan et I seut. I certainly was dreaming, for a motherly old person with her hair screwed into a button above her benevolent face, and a figure flowing away into vastnesses happily undefined in her gray print gown, came bustling in, full of homely hospitality. She let me know at once that she was totally deaf. But evidently her nephew had made her understand the situation very clearly, for she led me away to where were poached eggs and tea and toast—the best I ever tasted. While I was having tea, though it couldn't have been far from my normal dinner-hour, my host came back. He was full of kindly interest in my appetite and told me that Monitor's was even better. I was consumed with com- punction for all the trouble I was giving, and said so. I could see him distinctly now, as he sat across the table from me: a thin, lightly made man of about thirty, with a sharply cut, ir- regular face, all evenly colored the faint clear red that fair skins turn with outdoor life. His hair was reddish, too, and he was not in the least good-looking, intrinsically, but quite apart from his hospitality—and no grund seigneur's, given the circumstances, could have been greater-I liked him to a quite un- reasonable extent. Presently he said: "My wife would be very glad if you would go up to see her, Mrs. Forcyth, after you've had your tea.” I suppose I must have been burning with unconscious curiosity, since the suggestion pleased me so much, but I felt bound to say, “Surely it will disturb her to see a stranger; had I better not stay away?” “Please go,” he said, "if you are not too tired. She asked me to bring you." He went before me up the stairs and knocked at a door very softly. Some one answered, and he pushed the door open and stood aside to let me pass, not going in himself. I can't tell what made me feel the reverent tender way of it so keenly it was nothing, and it was exquisite. The room was dimly lighted by a low, smoldering fire and a candle in an old bell-glass on a little table. “Thank you for coming; it's good of you," said a low-pitched voice from the pillows of the great bed. My hostess turned her head, and in the soft candle-glow I saw her face. It made me catch my breath. We all dream loveliness, I suppose, but so seldom see it, that when we do it is with a kind of keen shock. I could not believe that any one was as she seemed to me, all white and golden; her face was like a pearl. You hear that said of surfaces as opaque as cream. But her face —the light seemed actually to shine through it; or had it a soft light of its own? Her hair was a pale grayish gold, like some rare metal that might be gold and silver together. But it wasn't merely her perfect tinting nor the lovely lines of her that made me feel as if a hand had suddenly taken tight hold of my heart and squeezed it; it was the look she gave, first at me, and then downward where a tiny red crumpled face and a downy little head showed close against her shoulder, all swathed about in flannel. The little face seemed crimson as she touched it with her white hand. “My daughter would apologize to you if she could, for the poor welcome we give you- since it's her fault,” she said, looking up at me again through her eyelashes, which were of an incredible length. S he motioned to a low chair beside the bed. “Will you sit there?” she said. “You must be so tired, you and the big horse.” Evident- ly she knew all about us. “Tell me about your adventures.” I thought she spoke as a very great lady, some wonderfully gracious princess. might. “There were no adventures," I answered; "only a very bad day's hunting, and I was 1772 Everybody's Magazine most stupid and contrived to get us com- her happiness depended on its being so. I pletely lost-Monitor and me. But for all looked at the just perceptible down. “Yes,” that, we've been very lucky-in the end." I answered truthfully, “it certainly will be She smiled a little; then she said, with her red." serious gray eyes on my face, “I have never We both laughed. seen you before, of course, Mrs. Forcyth, but “All this while I've not asked you if you've I think you may have heard of me; perhaps had all that you needed,” she said. “But not.” She stopped and smiled again—to it was useless for me to ask; if Martin was herself, rather than at me-a gentle, thought there, you had all that there was.” ful smile. “You see,” she went on, “it's dis As she spoke her husband's name, we heard agreeable to be startled; no one likes it, neither his step in the passage outside. “He will a single person nor the world at large. So think I am with you too long," I said, getting when one has startled that comfortable old up and laying the baby beside her. world, one simply withdraws as quickly as “No," she said, taking my hand and look- possible, shutting the door very softly and ing up at me. I never imagined such eyes- carefully behind one-as if one had disturbed the gray of a summer rain-cloud. “It's been an elderly irritable person.” good to see you; you seem like a messenger, a Then I knew this was Elizabeth Maitland. very kindly, understanding messenger from "A few very courteous people may do that,” that old world we spoke of. Of course the I said. “But most of the others sit down world did not mean to send one, and has before the world to scold it for being stupid forgotten me, so I send no message in return. and irritable.” If I were to send one, it would only be that I “They're unjust then,” she said. “How am happy—without anything it can give. But should it understand anything but its own that would not be a polite message to an old plans and arrangements? It's a kindly old queen, would it? Martin!”—she raised her person really; it fully intends that there shall voice a little. He came in and stood beside be plenty of happy women who have found the bed's head, looking down at her. As his l'ami in the appointed places. But if some wife's face turned to him with the light on her one woman finds him where the world did not clear throat and cheek and the upward sweep expect her to, it's naturally surprised and of her shining hair, I saw a little quiver about annoyed; and since it is only regretfully that his mouth and chin, but that was all. we annoy respected old persons, the least we She said: “Do you think we could make our can do is not to be put out with them for guest believe how glad we are of her coming, being annoyed.” if we told her both together, Martin?". I thought that if the world, even the austere He put out his hand and just touched hers. old dowager that we pictured it, could have “Mrs. Forcyth will believe anything you say, seen her so—the serene lovely good-humor dear, I think,” he said, smiling at me. I of her, for all its dislike of inconvenience it liked hearing him say it, and I knew that I must have understood a little, as I did. was seeing a beautiful thing—just seeing with- I could only be as simple as she was. out really understanding. "Yes, I've heard something of you-natu- I was still thinking of it when I was alone rally," I said, “but perhaps I understand bet- in the bare white room they gave me. And ter than the others, just seeing you here-you that good old aunt! She had brought me a two. May I have her to hold a little?" I asked, great blue jug of really hot water, and while stretching out my hands for the baby. She the dressing-table was spread with a coarse let me take her, very carefully, and I sat and cloth embroidered in red cotton with an art- held the delicious soft bundle, which uttered less design of kittens, there was a brush wonderfully grown-up tiny sighs and sniffs, of tortoise-shell with a little gold E. M. on and blinked at the candle rays until I pulled the back, laid out upon it, with other neces- a fold of flannel between the little face and the sities. Folded on my pillow was a night- light. The flannel smelled of iris, and the gown of sheerest batiste, worn to cobweb soft- little head, when I laid my cheek against it, ness, and I saw that the fine lace of its frills was like heavenly warm velvet. The baby's was all raveled away. I don't know why a mother lay still, watching us; I don't think she little thing like that should have touched me knew how tender her eyes were. Quite sudden- so. Perhaps I was not quite myself, for after ly she said: “It will be red, don't you think?” I had put out my light I lay awake, aching There was anxiety in her voice, as though all with fatigue and listening to the rush of the SHE SPOKE AS MIGHT A VERY GREAT LADY-SOME WONDERFULLY GRACIOUS PRINCESS. 773 1774 Everybody's Magazine wind in the pines outside my window, and when I reached home at last, I had had I thought of all sorts of things that never so many small adventures by the way that come into my head ordinarily. There was they made a sufficiently amusing tale to cover something in the air of that old house to make up the fact that I never actually mentioned one dream. I went to sleep at last with a where I had spent the night. Bob had line of old French running in my head among come back, and though my mind was still full the dreams, “Nous avons perdu le monde, of the memory of Elizabeth Maitland's gray et le monde, nous; que vous en semble, Tristan, eyes, and of all that I had seen in the old ami?” house beyond the hills, I realized that there is Next morning I saw my hostess a moment more than one way of being happy. I had to say good-by. And when I found myself brought home Bob's best horse useless for the saying, “Will you understand that what I rest of the season, but he did not seem even thank you for most is something I am taking to be aware of it; he was only consumed with away?" she smiled in comprehension. anxiety to know if I had been warm and fed “That I am not to see you again is part of and had escaped taking cold. the price I have to pay the ‘old queen’for my Elizabeth Maitland was right: there are happiness,” she said; "it's the first time I've women happy in the scheme of things that the not paid gladly. But you understand?” world arranges for them, and she has given me I understood. The world was not to be a very lovely memory to add to a most solid reminded. and comfortable reality. I'm grateful for both. To Fire By HELEN HUNTINGTON FIRE, thou free one! Thou god unspoiled, Attaining swiftly, Where man has toiled! Thy formless glory No mind may see, Nor brooding fathom Thy.mystery. All foul corruptions Thou makest clean, In flame they vanish To space unseen. The shames of nature, The taints of earth, By thee transfigured Have airy birth. Destroyer, Father, Creator, King, Thy raging beauty A living thing; In desolation, Bright wings unfurled, Thy barren pathway Lies round the world. O force supernal! O rose of heat! Incarnate wonder, Unrest complete, Remote from knowledge, Defying sense, Ah, whither speedest? And comest—whence? More strange than jewels, More fierce than hate, Consummate wonder Thy flames create. O perfect passion! O great desire! I, bowed, salute thee, Resistless fire! Anopheres, the Persian sentry outside the tent of Holofernes, leaned upon his spear and watched the old moon thrust its horn above those easterly mountains where Israel, penned in like a wounded lion, lay awaiting the grapple —and the end. To him came the little body- servant of the General, frightened and with twitching hands. "She is a witch, I tell you, that dark woman of Israel,” he muttered. “She eats not of our food; she carries always that sack of hers that is never empty. To-night I saw her shudder as she passed before the General's gold-hilted fauchion that hung upon the wall. No witch can look straight at steel. Each night at this hour she fares forth into the wilderness, to gather herbs for her spells, perhaps. Hark—some one moves within the tent!” The gaudy leathern tent-door opened, the moon. light fell full on Judith's face. The dark eyes that had seen deliverance for Israel glowed with strange and brooding fires; the round breast below the robe that muffled head and figure heaved and fluttered and was still. And her face was the face of tragedy; high, aloof from the little cares of men, purified with the flame of martyrdom that lighted it. Woman she was, and with a woman's knowledge of her beauty and its power, but man she was also, in her fierce courage; casting aside the traditions of her ser, and ready to do a man's red work of slaughter if she might so gain her ends. Passionate, stormy in her loves, relentless in her hates, daring all for either love or hate, of the blood that has run in the veins of patriots since man first died for man, she stood, elemental and untamed, painted against the background of the night. A moment her face was a blase of eager triumph, of fierce joy, of a high pride in lofty achievement; then the mask fell. With full, certain stride she stepped out into the moonlight and was gone down the dark path. “Did you see her eyes?" whispered the body-servant. “They are bloody eres-she is a witch. Did you see the bag? It is full to-night." “ But, ah, her form is as a cedar in the King's garden," said Anopheres, the sentry, “and her brows are horns of the crescent moon." And he who died next day upon the sword of Israel ran his fingers through his love-locks and blew a kiss into the air, still fragrant with perfume from her passing “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; : . . thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” Three women stood on the hillside, in the yellow light of that ancient evening; and one was Naomi, she who had carried the blood of Israel beneath her heart. One, walking away in the distance, bowed with grief under her muffling robe, was Orpah, returning to her own kindred in the land of Judah. And one was Ruth, she who had con- tinued faithful. Ruth of the tender eyes and the clinging hands, with the softness that makes un. conscious claim to service and protection, yet that gives over freely of each of these; with young, pliant strength to bear the burden of another's bitterness;-the type of all womanly sweetness in gentle steadfastness and quiet courage, trained through the ages to acceptance of the woman's pas- sive part. Ruth, the gleaner, patiently stooping for what careless hands have dropped, asking but to "glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves," yet receiving all of honor and chivalry that the world may give. She looked deep into Naomi's old, world-worn eyes. “The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." The older woman swayed with a gesture of surrender; Ruth took Naomi in her arms, and kissed her with the kiss of holy women. West- ward the two have turned. It is not only the road to Bethlehem that they walk, but the road of those whose feet are blessed. A Babe was to be born in Bethlehem because one troubled woman of the people, humblest of all who walked that day in Palestine, had made the good decision; had bent her head to the thorny crown of self-sacrifice, sac- rifice that receives no applause, demands no re- ward, and is content to only stand and wait. “ Whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." The shepherds, bringing their flocks homeward in the dusk, beheli two weary women trudging westward on the road to Bethlehem, and looked wonderingly at the younger, she was so fair to walk unprotected. 2 கமலாவகைவைணவ - ரை | = The Chuest of Quresma by Booth Tarkington BRO Author of The Gentleman from Indiară. The Ivo Van Revels Monsieur Beauraire, ez a Sllustration by MG.Blumenschein Se SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING INSTALMENT.-Three threads, later to be twisted together in the mys- tery of “The Guest of Quesnay," are spun in the first instalment. First, the American artist who tells the story, and his friend, George Ward, witness the wreck, near Paris, of an automobile in which are a Parisian dancer and Larrabee Harman, an American who is notorious for a career of dissipation. Harman, whose divorced wife is Ward's cousin, is seriously injured. Here this thread of the story is dropped. Two years later the artist establishes himself at an inn in Normandy, where he learns that the neighboring Château de Quesnay, which had been leased by the sister of George Ward, is for the time in charge of her guest, a certain very charming Madame d'Armand. The third element is furnished by the arrival at the inn of a distinguished scientist accompanied by a younger man who is invested with an air of great singularity and deep mystery. CHAPTER V to do the whole thing in the woods from day to day, instead of taking notes for the studio- HAD been painting in various parts of and was at work upon a very foolish experi- the forest, studying the early morning ment: I had thought to render the light- along the eastern fringe and moving farther broken by the branches and foliage-with in as the day advanced. For the stillness broken brush-work, a short stroke of the kind and warmth of noon I went to the very wood- that stung an elder painter to swear that its land heart, and in the late afternoon moved practitioners painted in shaking fear of the westward to a glade—a chance arena open concierge appearing for the studio rent. The to the sky, the scene of my most audacious attempt was 'alluring, but when I rose from endeavors, for here I was trying to paint my camp-stool and stepped back into the foliage luminous under those long shafts of path to get more distance for my canvas, I sunshine which grow thinner but ruddier saw what a mess I was making of it. At the toward sunset. A path closely bordered by same time, my hand, falling into the capacious underbrush wound its way to the glade, pocket of my jacket, encountered a package, crossed it, and wandered away into shady my lunch, which I had forgotten to eat; dingles again; with my easel pitched in the whereupon, becoming suddenly aware that I mouth of this path, I sat at work, one late was very hungry, I began to eat Amédée's afternoon, wonderful for its still loveliness. good sandwiches without moving from where The path debouched abruptly on the glade I stood. and was so narrow that when I leaned back Absorbed, gazing with abysmal disgust at my elbows were in the bushes, and it needed my canvas, I was eating absent-mindedly- care to keep my palette from being smirched and with all the restraint and dignity of a by the leaves; though there was more room Georgia darky attacking a watermelon-when for my canvas and easel, as I had placed them a pleasant voice spoke from just behind me: at arm's length before me, fairly in the open. "Pardon, monsieur; permit me to pass, if I had the ambition to paint a picture here- you please.” 782 The Guest of Quesnay 783 less. That was all it said, very quietly and in be ashamed to withhold the truth out of my French, but a gunshot might have startled me fear to be taken for a sentimentalist: this woman who had passed was of great and in- I turned in confusion to behold a dark-eyed stant charm; it was as if I had heard a sere- lady, charmingly dressed in lilac and white, nade there in the woods—and at thought of waiting for me to make way so that she could the jig I had danced to it my face burned pass. Nay, let me leave no detail of my again. mortification unrecorded: I have just said With a sigh of no meaning, I got my eyes that I "turned in confusion "'; the truth is that down to my canvas and began to peck at it I jumped like a kangaroo, but with infinitely perfunctorily, when a snapping of twigs less grace. And in my nervous haste to clear underfoot and a swishing of branches in the her way, meaning only to push the camp-stool thicket warned me of a second intruder, not out of the path with my foot, I put too much approaching by the path, but forcing a way valor into the push, and with horror saw the toward it through the underbrush, and very camp-stool rise in the air and drop to the briskly too, judging by the sounds. ground again nearly a third of the distance He burst out into the glade a few paces across the glade. L'pon that I squeezed from me, a tall man in white flannels, liberally myself back into the bushes, my ears singing decorated with brambles and clinging shreds and my cheeks burning. of underbrush. A streamer of vine had There are women who will meet or pass a caught about his shoulders; there were leaves strange man in the woods or fields with as on his bare head, and this, together with the finished an air of being unaware of him (par- youthful sprightliness of his light figure and ticularly if he be a rather shabby painter no the naive activity of his approach, gave me a longer young) as if the encounter took place very faunlike first impression of him. on a city sidewalk; but this woman was not At sight of me he stopped short. of that priggish kind. Her straightforward "Have you seen a lady in a white and lilac glance recognized my existence as a fellow dress and with roses in her hat?” he de- being; and she further acknowledged it by a manded, omitting all preface and speaking faint smile, which was of courtesy only, how with a quick eagerness which caused me no ever, and admitted no reference to the fact wonder-for I had seen the lady. that at the first sound of her voice I had leaped What did surprise me, however, was the in- into the air, kicked a camp-stool twenty stantaneous certainty with which I recog- feet, and now stood blushing, so shamefully nized the speaker from Amédée's description, stuffed with sandwich that I dared not speak. a certainty founded on that item which had so “Thank you,” she said as she went by; dangerously strained the old fellow's powers. and made me a little bow so graceful that it This sudden gentleman was strikingly good- almost consoled me for my caperings. looking, his complexion so clear and boyishly I stood looking after her as she crossed the healthy, that, except for his gray hair, he clearing and entered the cool winding of the might have passed for twenty-two or twenty- path on the other side. I stared and wished three, and even as it was I guessed his years —wished that I could have painted her into five short of thirty; but there are plenty of my picture, with the thin, ruddy sunshine handsome young fellows with prematurely flecking her dress; wished that I had not cut gray hair, and, as Amédée said, though out of such an idiotic figure. I stared until her the world we were near it. It was the new- filmy summer hat, which was the last bit of comer's “singular air” which established his her to disappear, had vanished. Then, dis- identity. Amédée's vagueness had irked me, covering that I still held the horrid remains but the thing itself—the “singular air”-was of a sausage-sandwich in my hand, I threw it not at all vague. Instantly perceptible, it into the underbrush with unnecessary force, was an investiture; marked, definite-and in- and, recovering my camp-stool, sat down to tangible. My interrogator was “that other work again. monsieur.” I did not immediately begin. The passing In response to his question I asked him of a pretty woman anywhere never comes to another: “Were the roses real or artificial?” be quite of no moment to a man, and the pass- “I don't know," he answered, with what I ing of a pretty woman in the greenwood is an took to be a whimsical assumption of gravity. episode-even to a middle-aged landscape “It wouldn't matter, would it? Have you painter. “An episode?” quoth I. I should seen her?” The Guest of Quesnay 1785 He stooped to brush the brambles from his a white hat and I thought it might be the trousers, sending me a sidelong glance from same. She wore a dress like that and a his blue eyes, which were brightly confident white hat with roses when she drove by the and inquiring, like a boy's. At the same time inn. I am very anxious to see her again.” it struck me that whatever the nature of the “You seem to be!" I murmured, quite singularity investing him (and now that I was dumfounded. in the presence of it I found myself as unable “And haven't you seen her? Hasn't she as Amédée to define it) it partook of nothing passed this way?" that was repellent, but, on the contrary, He urged the question with the same measurably enhanced his attractiveness, strange eagerness which had marked his making him “different" and lending him a manner from the first, a manner which con- distinction which, without it, he might have founded me by its absurd resemblance to that lacked. And yet, patent as this singularity of a boy who had not mixed with other boys must have been to the dullest, it was some- and had never been teased. And yet his ex- thing quite apart from any eccentricity of pression was intelligent and alert; nor was speech or manner, though, heaven knows, I there anything in the least degree abnormal was soon to think him odd enough. or “queer” in his frank, good-humored gaze. “Isn't your description," I said gravely, “I think that I may have seen her," I thinking to suit my humor to his own, began slowly; “but if you do not know her I "somewhat too general? Over yonder a few should not advise miles lies Beuzeval-Houlgate. Trouville it. I was interrupted by a shout and the sound self is not so far, and this is the season. A of a large body plunging in the thicket. At great many white hats trimmed with roses this the face of “that other monsieur” flushed might come for a stroll in these woods. If slightly; he smiled, but seemed troubled. you would complete the items -” and I “That is a friend of mine," he said. “I waved my hand as if inviting him to continue. am afraid he will want me to go back with “I have seen her only once before," he him.” And he raised an answering shout. responded promptly, with a seriousness ap- Professor Keredec floundered out through parently so genuine as to make me doubt that the last row of saplings and bushes, his beard he had meant to be whimsical at all. “That embellished with a broken twig, his big face was from my window at an inn, three days red and perspiring. He was a fine, a mighty ago. She drove by in an open carriage with- man, ponderous of shoulder, monumental of out looking up, but I could see that she was height, stupendous of girth; there was cloth very handsome. No,” he broke off abrupt- enough in the hot-looking black frock-coat ly, but as quickly resumed — "handsome he wore for the canopy of a small pavilion. isn't just what I mean. Lovely, I should say. Half a dozen books were under his arm, and That is more like her and a better thing to be, in his hand he carried a hat which evidently shouldn't you think so?” belonged to “that other monsieur,” for his “Probably-yes--I think so," I stam- own was on his head. mered, in considerable amazement. One glance of scrutiny and recognition he “She went by quickly," he said, as if he shot at me from his silver-rimmed spectacles; were talking in the most natural and ordinary and seized the young man by the arm. way in the world, “but I noticed that while “Ha, my friend!” he exclaimed in a bass she was in the shade of the inn her hair ap- voice of astounding power and depth, “that peared to be dark, though when the carriage is one way to study botany: to jump out of the got into the sunlight again it looked fair.” middle of a high tree and to run like a crazy I had noticed the same thing when the lady man!” He spoke with a strong accent and a who had passed emerged from the shadows of thunderous rolling of the "r.” “What was I the path into the sunshine of the glade, but I to think?” he demanded. “What has arrived did not speak of it now; partly because he to you?” gave me no opportunity, partly because I was “I saw a lady I wished to follow,” the other almost too astonished to speak at all, for I answered promptly. was no longer under the delusion that he had “A lady! What lady?” any humorous or whimsical intention. “The lady who passed the inn three days "A little while ago," he went on, "I was up ago. I spoke of her then, you remember.” in the branches of a tree over yonder, and I “Tonnerre de Dieu !” Keredec slapped his caught a glimpse of a lady in a light dress and thigh with the sudden violence of a man who The Guest of Quesnay 787 upon the present opportunity but gild it, for and that men had knowledge of the right the adventure of the afternoon left me in a celestial turpentine. After that I cleaned study which was, at its mildest, a greenish my brushes, packed and shouldered my kit, purple. and, with a final imprecation upon all sausage- The confession has been made of my sandwiches, took up my way once more to curiosity concerning my fellow-lodgers at Les Trois Pigeons. Les Trois Pigeons; however, it had been com Presently I came upon an intersecting paratively a torpid growth; my meeting with path where, on my previous excursions, I had them served to enlarge it so suddenly and to always borne to the right; but this evening, such proportions that I wonder it did not thinking to discover a shorter cut, I went strangle me. In fine, I sat there brush-pad- straight ahead. Striding along at a good gait, dling my failure like an automaton, and say- and chanting sonorously, “On Linden when ing over and over aloud, “What is wrong the sun was low," I left the rougher boscages with him? What is wrong with him?" of the forest behind me and emerged, just at This was the sillier inasmuch as the word sunset, upon an orderly fringe of woodland "wrong" (bearing any significance of a where the ground was neat and unencum- darkened mind) had not the slightest applica- bered, and the trimmed trees stood at polite tion to that other monsieur.” There had distances, bowing slightly to one another been neither darkness nor dulness; his eyes, with small, well-bred rustlings. his expression, his manner, betrayed no hint The light was somewhere between gold and of wildness; rather they bespoke a quick and pink when I came into this lady's boudoir of a amiable intelligence--the more amazing that grove. “Isar flowing rapidly” ceased its he had shown himself ignorant of things anytumult abruptly, and Linden saw no sterner child of ten would know. Amédée and his sight that evening: my voice and my feet fellows of Les Trois Pigeons had judged stopped simultaneously-for I stood upon wrongly of his nationality; his face was of Quesnay ground. the lean, right, American structure; but they Before me stretched a short broad avenue had hit the relation between the two men: of turf, leading to the château gates. These Keredec was the master and “that other stood open, a graveled driveway climbing monsieur” the scholar-a pupil studying thence by easy stages between kempt shrub- boys' text-books and receiving instruction in beries to the crest of the hill, where the gray matters and manners that children are taught roof and red chimney-pots of the château were And yet I could not believe him to be a simple glimpsed among the tree-tops. The slope case of arrested development. For the matter was terraced with strips of flower-gardens and of that, I did not like to think of him as a intervals of sward; and against the green of a “case” at all. There had been something rising lawn I marked the figure of a woman, about his bright youthfulness — perhaps it pausing to bend over some flowering bush. was his quick contrition for his rudeness, per- The figure was too slender to be mistaken for haps it was a certain wistful quality he had, that of the present chatelaine of Quesnay: perhaps it was his very “singularity"--which in Miss Elizabeth's regal amplitude there was appealed as directly to my liking as it did never any hint of fragility. The lady upon urgently to my sympathy. the slope, then, I concluded, must be Ma- I came out of my varicolored study with a dame d'Armand, the inspiration of Amédée's start, caused by the discovery that I had “Monsieur has much to live for!” absent-mindedly squeezed upon my palette Once more this day I indorsed that worthy the entire contents of an expensive tube of man's opinion, for, though I was too far cobalt violet, for which I had no present use; distant to see clearly, I knew that roses and sighing (for, of necessity, I am an trimmed Madame d'Armand's white hat, and economical man), I postponed both of my that she had passed me, no long time since, problems till another day, determined to in the forest. efface the one with a palette knife and a rag I took off my cap. “I have the honor to soaked in turpentine, and to defer the other salute you," I said aloud, “and to make my until I should know more of my fellow- apologies for misbehaving with sandwiches lodgers at Madame Brossard's. and camp-stools in your presence, Madame The turpentine rag at least proved effective; d'Armand.” I scoured away the last tokens of my failure Something in my own pronunciation of her with it, wishing that life were like the canvas name struck me as reminiscent: save for the 188 Everybody's Magazine prefix, it had sounded like “Harman,” as a mas; therefore, discovering that the very Frenchman might pronounce it. (Foreign pedestrian gentleman was making some sort names involve the French in terrible difficul- of inquiry concerning Les Trois Pigeons, I ties. Hughes, an English friend of mine, came to a halt and proffered aid. has lived in France some five-and-thirty years “Are you looking for Madame Brossard's?” without reconciling himself to being known as I asked in English. “Monsieur Ig.”) “Armand "might easily be The traveler uttered an exclamation and Jean Ferret's translation of “Harman.” Had faced about with a jump, birdlike for quick- he and Amédée in their admiration conferred ness. He did not reply to my question with the prefix because they considered it a plau- the same promptness; however, his delibera- sible accompaniment to the lady's gentle tion denoted scrutiny, not sloth. He stood bearing? It was not impossible; it was, I peering at me sharply until I repeated it. concluded, very probable. Even then he protracted his examination of I had come far out of my way, so I retraced me, a favor I was unable to return with any my steps to the intersection of the paths, and interest, owing to the circumstance of his back thence made for the inn by my accustomed being toward the light. Nevertheless, I got route. The light failed under the roofing of a clear enough impression of his alert, well- foliage long before I was free of the woods, poised little figure, and of a hatchety little and I emerged upon the road to Les Trois face, and a pair of shrewd little eyes, which Pigeons when twilight had turned to dusk. (I thought) held a fine little conceit of his Not far along the road from where I came whole little person. It was a type of fellow- into it, stood an old, brown, deep-thatched countryman not altogether unknown about cottage-a branch of brushwood over the certain "American Bars” of Paris, and door prettily beckoning travelers to the knowl- usually connected (more or less directly) with edge that cider was here for the thirsty; and what is known to the people of France as as I drew near I perceived that some one “Le Sport." was availing himself of the invitation. A “Say," he responded in a voice of un- group stood about the open door, the lamp pleasant nasality, finally deciding upon light from within disclosing Père Baudry, the speech, "you're 'Nummeric'n, ain't you?” head of the house, filling a cup for the way. “Yes," I returned. “I thought I heard farer; while honest Mère Baudry and two you inquiring for- " generations of younger Baudrys clustered "Well, mfriend, you can sting me!” he close, not to miss a word of the interchange of interrupted with condescending jocularity. courtesies between Père Baudry and his “My style French does f'r them camels up in chance patron. Paris all right. Me at Nice, Monte Carlo, It afforded me some surprise to observe that Chantilly-bow to the p'fess'r; he's right! the latter was a most mundane and elaborate But down here I don't seem to be gud enough wayfarer, indeed; a small young man very f'r these sheep-dogs; anyway they bark dif- lightly made, like a jockey, and point-device ferent. I'm out lukkin’ fer a hotel called in khaki, puttees, pongee cap, white-and- Les Trois Pigeons.” green stock, a knapsack on his back, and a “I am going there," I said; “I will show bamboo stick under his arm; altogether you the way." equipped to such a high point of pedestrian “Whur is it?" he asked, not moving. ism that a cynical person might have been re I pointed to the lights of the inn, flickering minded of loud calls for wine at some hostelry across the fields. “Yonder-beyond the in the land of opera bouffe. He was speak second turn of the road," I said, and, as he ing fluently, though with a detestable accent, showed no signs of accompanying me, I in a rough-and-ready, picked-up dialect of added, “I am rather late." Parisian slang, evidently laboring under the “Oh, I ain't goin' there t'night. It's too pleasant delusion that he employed the dark t' see anything now," he remarked, to French language, while Père Baudry con- my astonishment. “Dives and the choo- tributed his share of the conversation in a choo back t’ little ole Trouville f'r mine! I slow patois. As both men spoke at the same on'y wanted to take a luk at this pigeon-house time and neither understood two consecutive joint." words the other said, it struck me that the “Do you mind my inquiring," I said, dialogue might prove unproductive of any “what you expected to see at Les Trois highly important results, this side of Michael Pigeons?” Christmas and the Spirit of Democracy 795 thing was written up, all Anglo-Saxondom courage to tell them so. Then they got tired was smiling through its tears and saying: of clutching, and their hearts warmed and "That's just like us. God bless us, every one.' their hands relaxed and they began to give. “But it's different now. Something has Never was such giving known before. It got into the Christmas Spirit. Doing good was a perfect deluge of beneficence. A mere doesn't seem such a jolly thing as it once was, catalogue of the gifts would make a Christmas and you can't carry it off with a whoop and carol of itself. hello. People are getting critical. In these “But would you believe it, they never have days a charitable shilling doesn't go so far as it got the fun out of it that I got when I filled used to, and doesn't buy nearly so many God- the cab full of turkeys and set out for Camden bless-you's. You complain of the rise in the town. The old Christmas feeling seems to price of the necessaries of life. It isn't a circum- have been chilled. The public has grown stance to the increase in the cost of luxuries critical. Instead of dancing for joy it looks like benevolence. Almost every one looks suspiciously at the gifts and asks: 'Where forward to the time when he can afford to did they get them?' It has been so impressed be generous. And when he is generous he by the germ theory of disease that it foolishly likes to feel generous, and to have other fears that even money might be tainted. It's people sympathize with him. It's only human a preposterous situation. Generosity is a nature. A man can't be thinking about him- drug on the market, and gratitude can't be self all the time; he gets that tired feeling had at any reasonable price.” that your scientific people in these days call “Yes,” I said, "you are quite right, public altruism. It is an inability to concentrate his sentiment has changed. Gratitude is not so mind on his own concerns. In spite of himself easily won as it was in your day, and it takes his thoughts wander off to other people's longer to transform a clutching, covetous old affairs, and he has an impulse to do them sinner into a serviceable philanthropist. But good. Now in my day it was the easiest I do not think, Scrooge, that the Christmas thing in the world to do good. The only Spirit has really vanished. He is only a little thing necessary was to feel good-natured, and chastened and subdued by the Spirit of there you were! Nowadays, the way of the Democracy.” benefactor is hard. It's so difficult that I “I don't see what Democracy has to do understand you actually have Schools of Phi- with it,” said Scrooge. “I'm sure that no- lanthropy.” body ever accused me of being an aristocrat. Scrooge shrugged his shoulders and seemed What I am troubled about is the decay of to shrivel at the thought of these horrible gratitude. If I give a poor fellow a shilling, institutions. I ought to be allowed the satisfaction of hav- "Just fancy,” he continued, “how I should ing him remove his hat and say “Thank'ee have felt on that blessed Christmas night if sir,' and he ought to say it as if he meant it. instead of starting off as an amateur angel, The heartiness of his thanksgiving is half the feeling my wings growing every moment, I fun. It makes one feel good all over.” had been compelled to prepare for an entrance “But," I answered, “if the fellow happens examination. I suppose I should have been to have a good memory he may recall the put with the backward pupils whose early fact that yesterday you took two shillings education had been neglected, and should from him, and he may think that the proper have had to learn the A B C's of charity. response to your sudden act of generosity is, School of Philanthropy! Ugh! And in the “Where's that other shilling?' That's what holidays too! the Spirit of Democracy puts him up to. It's "I have been visiting some elderly gentle- not so polite, but you must admit that it goes men who have had something of my ex- right to the point.” perience with the Spirit of Christmas. Like “I don't like it,” said Scrooge. me, they were converted somewhat late in life. “I thought you wouldn't. There are a They never were in as bad a way as I was great many people who don't like it. It's a for I did business, you may remember, in a twitting on facts that takes away a good deal narrow street with quite sordid surroundings of the pleasure of being generous.” while they were financiers in a large way. “I should say it did,” grumbled Scrooge. Yet I suppose that they, too, were ‘squeez- “It makes you feel mean just when you are ing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, most sensitive. Just think how I should have covetous old sinners,' though nobody had the felt if, when I gave Bob Cratchit a dig in the 7796 Everybody's Magazine waistcoat and told him that I had raised his the level. Everybody is either looking up or salary, he had taken the opportunity to ask looking down, and they are taught how to for back pay. It would have been most do it. I remember attending the annual inopportune.” meeting of the Society for the Relief of “You owed it to him, didn't you?” Indigent Children. The indigent children “Yes, I suppose I did, if you choose to put were first fed and then insulted by a plethoric it that way. But Bob wouldn't have put it gentleman who addressed to them a long that way; he wouldn't take such liberties. discourse on indigence and the various duties He took what I gave him; and when I gave · that it entailed. And no one of the children him more than he expected, he was all the was allowed to throw things at the speaker. happier, and so was I. That's what made it They had all been taught to look grateful. all seem so nice and Christmasy. We were “Now these inequalities do exist, and so not thinking about rights and duties; it was long as they exist all sorts of helpful offices all free grace.” have place. The trouble is that good people “Now, Scrooge, you are getting at the are all the time doing their best to make point. There is no concealing the fact that the inequalities permanent. You have heard the Spirit of Democracy makes himself un- how divines have interpreted the text, “The pleasant sometimes. He breaks up the old poor ye have always with you.' The good pleasant relations existing not only between old doctrine has been that the relation be- the Lords and the Commons, but between tween those who have not and those who you and Bob Cratchit. Man is naturally a have should be that of one-sided dependence. superstitious creature, and is prone to worship The Ignorant must depend upon the Wise, the first thing that comes in his way. When a the Weak upon the Strong, the Poor upon the poor fellow sees a person who is better off than Rich. As for the black, yellow, and various himself, he jumps to the conclusion that he is particolored races, they must depend upon a better man and bows down before him, as the White Man, who gaily walks off with before a wonder-working Providence. When their burdens without so much as saying 'By this Providence smiles upon him, he is glad your leave.' and receives the bounty with devout thank- “Now it is against this whole theory, how- fulness. It is what the old theologians used ever beautifully or piously expressed, that the to call 'an uncovenanted mercy.' protest has come. The Spirit of Democracy “All this is very pleasant to one who can is a bold iconoclast, and goes about smashing sign himself by the grace of God king, or our idols. He laughs at the pretensions of president of a coal company, or some such the Strong and the Wise and the Rich to have thing as that. The gratification extends to created the things they possess. They are not all the minor grades of greatness as well. the masters of the feast. They are only those The great man is ordained to give as it of us who have got at the head of the line, pleases him and the little men to receive with sometimes by unmannerly pushing, and have due meekness. The great man is always the secured a place at the first table. We are not man who has something. I suppose, Scrooge, here by their leave, and we may go directly that in your busy life, first scraping money to the source of supplies. They are not together and then dispensing it in your joyous benefactors, but beneficiaries. The Spirit of Christmasy way, you have not had much Democracy insists that they shall know their time for general reading or even for listening place. He rebukes even the Captains of to sermons?” Industry, and when they answer insolently, "I have always attended Divine Service he suggests that they be reduced to the since my conversion," answered Scrooge ranks. Even toward bishops and other piously; "as for listening--" clergy his manner lacks that perfect reverence “What I was going to say was that if you that belonged to an earlier time; yet he had attended to such matters, you must have listens to them respectfully when they talk noticed how much of the literature of good sense. will is devoted to the praise of the Blessed “It is this spirit that plays the mischief Inequalities. How the changes are rung on with many of the merry old ways of doing the Strong and the Weak, the Wise and the good. To scatter turkeys or colleges among Ignorant, the Rich and the Poor; especially the a multitude of gratefully dependent folks is Poor, who form the hub of the philanthropic the very poetry of philanthropy. But to sat- universe. Nobody seems to meet another on isfy the curiosity of an independent citizen Christmas and the Spirit of Democracy 797 So as to your title to these ing to help. He comes to things is a different mat- the conclusion that if you ter. The more indepen- really wish him well, you dent people are, the must wish him to be at harder it is to do good least as well off and as to them. They are apt to well able to take care of have their own ideas of himself as you are. The what they want.” first thing you know, you “It's a pity then to are wishing to have him have them só indepen- reach a point where he dent,” said Scrooge; "it will not look up to you at spoils people to get above all. “There is a certain their proper station in friendliness by which we life.” desire at one time or an- “Ah! there you are," I other to do good to those answered; “I feared it we love. But how if there would come to that. With be no good that we can all your exuberant good do? We ought not to will you haven't alto- wish men to be wretched gether got beyond the that we may be enabled theory that has come to practise works of mer- down from the time when cy. Thou givest bread the first cave-dweller to the hungry, but better bestowed on his neigh- were it that none hun- bor the bone he himself gered and thou hadst didn't need, and estab- none to give to. Thou lished the pleasant rela- clothest the naked; oh, tion of benefactor and that all men were clothed beneficiary. It gave him and that this need existed such a warm feeling in not! Take away the his heart that he naturally wanted to make wretched, and the works of mercy will be at the relation permanent. First Cave-dweller an end, but shall the ardor of charity be felt a little disappointed next day when quenched? With a truer touch of love thou Second Cave-dweller, instead of coming to lovest the happy man to whom there is no him for another bone, preferred to take his good office that thou canst do; purer will pointed stick and go hunting on his own that love be and more unalloyed. For if account. It seemed a little ungrateful in thou hast done a kindness to the wretched him, and First Cave-dweller felt that it perhaps thou wishest him to be subject to would be no more than right to arrange leg- thee. He was in need, thou didst bestow; islation in the cave so that this should not thou seemest to thyself greater because thou happen again. didst bestow than he upon whom it was be- “Christian Charity is a very beautiful stowed. Wish him to be thine equal.' thing, but sometimes it gets mixed up with “There, Scrooge, is the text for the little these ideas of the cave-dwellers. Some- Christmas sermon that I should like to preach times it perpetuates the very evils that it to you and to your elderly wealthy friends laments. Perhaps you won't mind my read- who feel that they are not so warmly ap- ing a bit from a homily of St. Augustine preciated as they once were. "Wish him to on this very subject. St. Augustine was a be thine equal'—that is the test of charity. man who was a good many centuries ahead It is all right to give a poor devil a turkey. of his time. He begins his argument by But are you anxious that he shall have as saying: 'All love, dear brethren, consists in good a chance as you have to buy a turkey wishing well to those who are loved.' This for himself? Are you really enthusiastic about seems like a harmless proposition. It is the so equalizing opportunities that by and by sort of thing you might hear in a sermon and you shall be surrounded by happy, self-reliant think no more about. But St. Augustine goes people who have no need of your bene- to the root of the matter and asks what it factions? means to wish well to the person you are try “Do you know, Scrooge, I sometimes think 798 Everybody's Magazine that it is time for some one to write a new and his airs of superiority. He is not teach- 'Christmas Carol,' a carol that will make the ing at all, so far as you can see. He is the world know how people are feeling and some center of a group of eager learners, who are of the best things they are doing in these days. using their own wits and not depending on It should be founded on Justice and not on his. They are so busy observing, compar- Mercy. We should feed up Bob Cratchit ing, reasoning, and finding out things for and put some courage into him, and he should themselves that he can hardly get in a word come to you and ask a living wage not as a edgewise. And he seems to like it, though it favor, but as a right. And you, Scrooge, is clear that if they keep on at this rate they would not be offended at him, but you would will soon get ahead of their teacher. sit down like a sensible man and figure it out “And the Spirit of Democracy will take with him. And when the talk was over, you to a children's court where the judge you wouldn't feel particularly generous, and does not seem like a judge at all, but like a he wouldn't feel particularly grateful; it big brother who shows the boys what they would be simple business. But you would ought to do and sees that they do it. He like each other better, and the business would will take you to a little republic where seem more worth while. boys and girls who have defied laws that “And then, when you went out with the they did not understand are making laws of Spirit of Christmas, you their own and enforcing would ask the Spirit of De- them in a way that makes mocracy to go with you and the ordinary citizen feel show you the new things ashamed of himself. They that are most worth seeing. do it all so naturally that you He wouldn't wait for the wonder that nobody had night, for the cheeriest things thought of the plan before. would be those that go on He will take you to pleasant during business hours. He houses in unpleasant parts would show you some sights of the city, and there you to make your heart glad. He will meet pleasant young would show you vast num- people who are having a bers of persons who have got very good time with their tired of the worship of the neighbors and who are get- Blessed Inequalities, and ting to be rather proud of who are going in for the their neighborhood. After Equalities. They have a you have had a cup of tea, suspicion that there is not so they may talk over with you much difference between the the neighborhood problems. Great and the Small as has If you have any sensible been supposed, and that suggestion to make, these what difference there is does young people will listen to not prevent a frank com- weby you; but if you begin to talk radeship and a perfect un- about the Poor, they will derstanding. They think it change the subject. They is better to work with people are not philanthropists- than to work for them. They they are only neighbors. think that one of the inalien- "I hope he may take you, able rights of man is the 1 Scrooge--this Spirit of De- right to make his own mis- mocracy - to some of the takes and to learn the lesson from them with- charity organizations I know about. I realize out too much prompting. So they are a little that you are prejudiced against that sort of shy of many of the more intrusive forms thing, it seems so cold and calculating com- of philanthropy. But you should see what pared with your impulsive way of doing good. they are up to. And you will probably quote the lines about "The Spirit of Democracy will take you “Organized charity scrimped and iced to visit a school that is not at all like the In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ.” school you used to go to, Scrooge. The “Never mind about the statistics; they only teacher has forgotten his rod and his rules mean that these people are doing business Christmas and the Spirit of Democracy 799 on a larger scale than did the good people scholar's scorn of 'the aggregate mind.' He who could carry all the details in their heads. thinks that it is a very good kind of mind What I want you to notice is the way in which if it is only rightly interpreted. He has the the scientific interest does away with that idea that what all of us want is better than patronizing pity that was the hardest thing what some few of us want, and that when all to bear in the old-time charities. These mod- of us make up our minds to work together ern experts go about mending broken fortunes we can get what we want without asking any- in very much the same way in which surgeons body's leave. He thinks that what all of us mend broken bones. The patient doesn't feel want is fair play, and so he goes straight for under any oppressive weight of obligation, he that without much regard for special inter- has given them such a good opportunity to ests. It is a simple program, but it's won- show their skill. And the doctors have derful what a difference it makes. caught the spirit too. Instead of looking wise “There never was a time, Scrooge, when the and waiting for people to come to them in the message of good will was so widely interpreted last extremity, they have enlisted in Social in action, or when it took hold of so many Service. You should see them going about kinds of men. Perhaps you wouldn't mind opening windows, and forcing people to my reading another little bit from St. Augus- poke their heads out into the night air, and tine: 'Two are those to whom thou doest making landlords miserable by their calcula- alms; two hunger, one for bread, the other for tions about cubic feet, and investigating righteousness. Between these two famishing sweat-shops and analyzing foodstuffs. It's persons thou the doer of the good work art their way of bringing in a Merry Christmas. set. The one craves what he may eat, the "And the Spirit of Democracy will take you other craves what he may imitate. Thou to workshops where you may see the new kind feedest the one, give thyself as a pattern to of Captain of Industry in friendly consultation the other, so hast thou given to both. The with the new kind of Labor Leader. For one thou hast caused to thank thee for the new Captain is not a chief of banditti, satisfying his hunger, the other thou hast interested only in the booty he can get for made to imitate thee by setting him a worthy himself, and the new Leader is not a con- example.' spirator waiting for a chance to plunge his “It is this hunger for simple justice that knife into the more successful bandit's back. is the great thing. And there are people who These two are responsible members of a are giving their whole lives to satisfy it. What great industrial army and they realize their we need is to realize what it all means, and to responsibility. They have not met to ex- get that joyous thrill over it that came to change compliments. They are not senti- you when you found for the first time that mentalists, but shrewd men of affairs who life consisted not in getting, but in giving. have met to plan a campaign for the common It's a wonderful giving, this giving of one's welfare. They don't take any credit for it, self, and people do appreciate it. When you for they do not expect to give to any man have ministered to a person's self-respect, any more than his due; yet there are a good when you have contributed to his self-reli- many Christmas dinners involved in the cool, ance, when you have inspired him to self- business-like consultation. help, you have given him something. And “Afterward, the Spirit of Democracy will you are conscious of it and so is he, though take you to a church where the minister is you both find it hard to express in the old preaching from the text, ‘Ye are all kings terms. All the old Christmas cheer is in and priests,' as if he believed it; and you will these reciprocities of friendship that have believe it too, and go on your way wondering lost every touch of condescension. We need at the many sacred offices in the world. some genial imagination to picture to us all “You will hurry on from the church to the happiness that is being diffused by peo- shake hands with the new kind of politician. ple who have come to look upon themselves He is not the dignified 'statesman' you have not as God's almoners, but as sharers with read about and admired afar off, who has others in a Common Good. I wish we had every qualification for high office except the a new Dickens to write them up.” ability to get himself elected. This man “If you are waiting for that, you will wait knows the game of politics. He is not fasti- a long time,” said Scrooge. dious and likes nothing better than to be in "Perhaps so, but the people are here all the thick of a scrimmage. He has not the the same, and they are getting in their work.” The Travesty of Christ in Russia By LEROY SCOTT Author of "The Walking Delegate," "To Him that Hath," etc. L'VERYWHERE in Russia is the pres- dom that has been convulsing Russia these L ence of the Holy Church. last few years? In the heart of every thatched village of Searching out the answers to my questions, I clay or rough logs stands a white, domed found that the gorgeous, omnipresent Church, edifice, magnificent in its setting of supreme so imposing to my eyes, was but a gorgeous, poverty. In every city block, it seems, rises omnipresent lie. The Church does not, be- a stuccoed church, its azure domes outrival- fore all else, represent Christ and His teach- ing the sky, its gilded domes outgleaming the ings; before all else it represents the Govern- sun; and always the reminding jangle of bells ment and its desires. The Holy Synod, the beats over the city. And these churches, at ruling body of the Church, might as well be service hours, are packed with people-giv- ' called the Ministry of Religion, for it is as ing ear to the glorious chant-watching the much a department of the State as is the elaborate ceremonials of the long-haired, gor- Ministry of War. The members of the Holy geous priest misted about by heavy, sweet in- Synod are directly or indirectly chosen by the cense from swinging censers on their knees, Czar, and are ultimately responsible to him bowing till their foreheads press the chill alone. It chooses the higher dignitaries of stone floor-passing the gold-margined icons the Church, and these appoint the officials at the foot of the altar, to kiss the hand of of a lower grade; and so on down to the village the mighty St. Nicholas, or the pierced feet priest, who gets his parish through the ap- of Christ crucified. And everywhere in the proval of his bishop. The Holy Synod is a streets walls are hung with icons, and in front religious autocrat-rather, a subautocrat to of them the passers-by uncover and cross the holy Czar. Thus the Church is made their breasts; and before icons famed for to harmonize with the State; nay, more-is their potency as miracle - workers, street made its servant. crowds prostrate themselves, even though Since the dignitaries of the Church are also snow or rain be falling, or the earth be coated essentially officials of the State, it is not sur- with slush. prising to discover in them a likeness to the Yes, everywhere is the Church, and every- regular Government officials, who have set a where are the signs of worship. Truly, the model of corruption and harshness for all the Government's claim that all Russians are world. Many are the ecclesiastics who find devotees of the Orthodox faith seems wit- worth to be on the side of the highest bidder, nessed by the facts. And yet...! Well, and even in the very courts of the Church after I had seen a few drunken priests, after decisions are determined, not by merit and I had heard a thief, kneeling at an altar, beg justice, but by the Church's interest, or often God's blessing on his enterprise, after I had by frank bribery; and so general is this cor- listened to a church dignitary proving to ruption that it is considered an established the people by the Scriptures that for them condition and excites but little comment. education and advancement are fruits of the And as for harshness, the fiercely repressive devil, I began to be stirred by wonderings. Plehve, who was hated beyond all other mas- Beneath its surface show of gold and cere- ters of modern Russia, and whose death by a mony, what was the real character of the bomb raised his slayer to the rank of a demi- Russian Greek Church? Beneath their for- god, had his ecclesiastical counterpart in the mal worship, what was the religious charac- late Pobedonostsev. As head of the Holy ter of the people? And what was the attitude Synod for more than a quarter of a century, of the Church toward the aspiration for free. Pobedonostsev opposed with his powerful 800 The Travesty of Christ in Russia 801 personal influence every measure that made prayers, if kneeling before and kissing icons- for freedom or enlightenment, and hesitated if the frequent performance of these physical not even to interpret God as approving this acts constitutes religion, then the ignorant bitter oppression. To be sure, many officials masses are devoutness itself. But I soon strive to be kind and just; but the dominant learned that though the forms are necessities type is approximately the same in Church to the peasant's superstitious soul, yet to him and State. they are nothing but forms. Of the whole Between these higher clergy and the village spiritual significance of religion he has no idea. priests stretches a gulf deep and wide. The The reason for this is obvious. The Church former have opportunities for education and has taught the people form alone. have open to them all the higher positions in Even concerning the meaning of the com- the Church; the latter are barred from enter- monest forms, the commonest insignia, of ing the higher clergy and from attaining the his religion, the average Russian peasant is higher positions, and as a class are very poor blindly ignorant. In St. Petersburg I asked a and very ignorant. And even worse. On gray and bearded guard at the Church of Alex- all sides I heard stories of bribe-taking, of ander II.-erected in memory of that monarch drunkenness, of cheating, of lying, of lowest on the spot where he was killed by a bomb immorality, even of plain stealing. in 1881—why the lower bar of the three- Now what is the influence of such a armed cross on the cupolas was set aslant. religion, and such (According to a priesthood, up- Eastern legend, on the masses and Christ, that He upon the intel- might suffer the lectuals? When I utmost of human first began my in- ills, was born a quiries among the cripple, so the intelligent class, lower bar on the I went about St. cross is set at an Petersburg for angle to accom- two weeks seek- modate His un- ing an educated equal legs.) The layman who had old ex-soldier, intimate knowl- who had been on edge of the guard at the Church. I sought church for twen- him in vain. All ty-three years, I questioned had smiled his open but one answer peasant's smile -“I know noth- and shook his ing." And all shaggy head. were surprised “The good God that the Church knows! We don't should interest know anything. me. The intel- We are all poor, lectual class dark [ignorant] simply ignores the people.” Church, or thinks Photograph by C. O. Bulla, St. Petersburg. The following of it only as one incident, though of the prime evils it deals specific- of the country. The dead formalism of ally with the lowest element of the popula- Orthodoxy, the embargo against any other tion, is significant of the general religious faith, have borne their logical fruit. Edu- ignorance of the masses. It is a custom cated Russia is without religion. when a massacre of the Jews is impending The hold of the Church is almost entirely for the faithful who live in the endangered on the peasantry, who compose four fifths quarters of a city to nail a crucifix upon their of Russia's population. And if crossing the door, or to display in their windows a picture breast, if burning of candles, if mouthing set of St. Nicholas or of the Virgin Mother-and FATHER ALEXEI POYARKOFF, A liberal priest who was a inember of the First Duma. 802 Everybody's Magazine of course the murderous mob passes by houses hood. And, prompted no otherwise by the thus marked. Now at the time when a mas- Church, such sharp attention have they given sacre broke out in one city, Cléo de Merode, that in general the peasants regard them the notorious French dancer, whom freakish as greedy, grasping merchants, having a fortune has gifted with a face that to crude eyes monopoly of certain necessities of this life looks that of a saint, was performing at a local and of eternity, and striving always to extort theatre, and lithographs of her were every- the highest possible prices for their wares. where in shop-windows, even in the Jewish Consequently, before a child is christened, or quarter. When the mob, raging through this a couple married, there is fierce bargaining section, saw in a window a picture of the between peasant and priest as to the fee. famous dancer, they crossed themselves and Often the wrangling pair will at length be went not into that house to rob and wreck separated by but half a penny or a pound of and slaughter. They supposed that Cléo de flour—and still continue haggling. Babies Merode was the Virgin Mother. have gone unchristened, the dead have been Though the peasant considers the forms of buried without religious service, couples the Church a necessity, he has, speaking gen- have left the church unmarried, because the erally, little respect for the priest who ad- priest's demanded price was regarded as ex- ministers those forms. Not only have the vil- tortion. lage priests as a class neither the moral nor the It can readily be perceived that this relig- mental qualities to inspire esteem, but regard ion of forms, administered by such a priest- for them is reduced yet lower by their economic hood, has little relation to right living. There stands out sharply in my mind a working man's living-room, hung with exactly thirteen icons, beneath which on the floor was sprawled the work- ing man in a drunken heap. The naive peasants are as ready to ask God's blessing on an evil deed as on a good one. The form alone to them is religion -it is everything. The re- sult is that when they perceive how empty and lifeless is form, everything is gone. At the present time, when the intel- ligence of the people is being roused as never before, just this process of losing religion is going on rapidly among the masses-especially among the working people of the large cities, who are most accessible to intellectual stimulus. Often this loss of religion springs from a cause almost incredibly child- ish. I met a factory worker A PROCESSION FROM THE CATHEDRAL OF THE ASSUMPTION, THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW, AFTER THE CEREMONY OF who years before while living in a village had conceived of God as a white-haired, white- relations with the peasantry. They are paid bearded old man who ruled in the nearest beggarly salaries, often as low as $20 a year; large city—a common peasant conception, the rest of their maintenance they must get in by the way. On coming to the city and the form of fees and gifts from their parishes, finding no such man, he had concluded that and since the peasants are as poor as scraped there was no God and that religion was a bones, only the sharpest attention to business humbug. by the priests will gain them a decent liveli- But let it not be deduced that the Russian BLESSING THE APPLE. TYPICAL PRIESTS OF THE HIGHER CLERGY. peasant has no capacity for true religious fold. The history of the monastic prisons, feeling. He is gentle and generous, is rich in which exist for the discipline of heretics, is spiritual qualities; but that which is really black with the stories of men who have been good in him proceeds not from the influence cast into cells because of their beliefs, there of the Church but from his own natural en- to rot out the best years of their manhood, or dowments. And let not the ultimate blame for by harsh treatment to be driven insane; and of the peasant's lack of true religion be placed some nothing has ever been heard again with- wholly on the priests, ignorant, greedy, and out the heavy walls. The records of the Solo- immoral though they often are. “We dare vetzkaya Monastery contain an account of a not teach our people true religion,” bitterly man who was cast into its prison at the age of complained to me a village priest of the better twenty-five, and held there, because he re- type, a fine, broad-minded man. "Church fused to recant, till he was ninety. He was spies have their eyes always on us. If we do then (about 1880) offered his freedom, but as more than merely go through the prescribed relatives and friends were gone, and life meant forms, the spies report on us, and our reputa- nothing to him, he begged and was granted the tions are blackened with the authorities, or favor of remaining in the prison till his death. worse befalls us. The good we try to do-it T he case of Father Tzvetkoff is an exam- is that that ruins us!” ple of the fate likely to befall a man who Such, briefly, is the Russian Church, and sincerely, devoutly, begins to question the such the relation between it and the people. teachings of the Church. A simple and loved Among the elements of this relation two an- priest, who tried to fill his life with good cient policies of the Church stand out at this deeds, Father Tzvetkoff had long been trou- period of Russia's travail with dominant dis- bled by doubts over certain of the Church's tinctness: The opposition of the Church to dogmas. For the easement of his perplexity freedom of conscience, and its rabid hostility he went on a pilgrimage in the early part of to any degree of political freedom. With a 1901 to several chief cities, where he asked rigor that recalls the Spanish Inquisition does the opinion of high officials of the Church the Church punish any open searching after upon his doubts. He was merely a seeker the higher truth, any unsanctioned attempt to for the truth. At no time did he express his apply practically the teachings of Christ, questionings publicly, nor try to disturb the especially on the part of those within its own faith of others. 803 TERET anon DITU THE KREMLIN AT MOSCOW, The Holy of Holies of Russia. The cathedrals were erected during the fifteenth century. At the left is the royal palace, maintained for the occupancy of the Czar when he visits the city. From a painting by Refin, A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. The crowds of poor are kept back by Cossacks armed with whips. In the foreground a gendarme may be seen in the act of lashing a peasant 806 The Travesty of Christ in Russia 807 the poor grew stronger and stronger, to the litical freedom by its religious instruction great betterment of their morality and habits to the people. It teaches that for Russians. of work. And by them he was regarded the Czar is God's representative on earth; almost as one sent from God. that the Czar's word is God's word, the Czar's But again came interference. The Church laws are God's laws; that to disobey the took alarm at the spiritual power he was Czar is to disobey God; that when misfortune gaining. His various establishments were falls through act of the Czar, such misfortune searched for evidence against him, but noth- must be regarded as merited punishment; that ing incriminating was discovered. Never- the people deserve nothing, and if the Czar theless, the clergy accused him before the gives anything, his gift is a mercy; that God civil authorities, by whom he was tried and made some to be masters and some to be exonerated. But the clergy, not to be servants, some to be rich and some to be poor; balked, petitioned that and since God so he be delivered into planned, to try to their hands. The pe- change these condi- tition was granted, and tions is a heinous and in 1894, without unforgivable sin being allowed even to against God. bid his parents good- Now these teach- by, Rachoff was des- ings, the fundamentals patched to the prison of which have been in the monastery at dinned into the peo- Sudal. His mother ple's ignorant minds soon died of grief at for long generations, his fate, and his father exert a profound in- shortly followed. For fluence—though, to be eight years he was held sure, this influence is in the prison, and rapidly waning. Out when he finally came in the vast famine dis- out, though still young, trict, I saw an age- he was broken and ex- scarred, hunger- hausted — harmless to gnawed old woman, the Church, useless to whose misery and that man. of her wea zened And just as rigor- grandchildren (one of ously does the Church whom lay dying in fight those who spend a corner of her hut) their efforts for polit- was due to the grind- ical freedom. Tolstoi ing taxation and the is in a way the arch- utter neglect of the illustration of the Czar, and who was re- Church's hostility. ceiving her portion of More definitely, with a the rotten and clay- sincerer idealism than adulterated flour that any other man in A VILLAGE PRIEST OF THE BETTER TYPE. the grafting officials Russia, he has stood were sending to the for political freedom and freedom of religion; famine victims as "relief.” And this old with the result that he has been excommuni- woman crossed herself and said with grateful cated, fiercely denounced again and again tears: “We'd be dead had our good Czar by the Church, and years ago was in im- not remembered us. May he reign forever!” minent danger of monastic imprisonment to The Church is the most subtly difficult quiet his fearless words and terminate his enemy that the champions of liberty encoun- influence. From this fate he was saved only ter when they go among the masses. They by his great reputation and by the inter- hesitate to attack the Church and its re- cession of an aunt, a court favorite, with the pressive teachings for fear of alienating their Czar. audiences. I myself came into peculiar con- The Church begins its opposition to po- tact with this difficulty. The priests have TYPE OF RUSSIAN VILLAGE CHURCH. spread the report that the revolutionary run back to the business of murder—this was movement is instigated and financed by the no rare incident of those stupendous tragedies. English, Russia's hereditary enemies, for the After the great massacre at Kishineff a sub- purpose of disrupting the fatherland and then scription was taken for the benefit of “Chris- easily taking possession of it. A cautious tian victims of the massacre"—that is, those agitator hesitated long one night before taking who had received injury while murdering the me to a secret meeting of ignorant work- Jews; and it is significant of the Church's men, lest my English speech might somehow attitude that the bishop of the diocese gave rouse this priest-begotten suspicion and be $250 to this fund. the ruin of his effort. The difficulty was Here is another little bit of history to the finally met by my going in the rôle of a dumb same point. A common way of inciting the Russian author, and remaining soundless for massacres was for the police themselves, in three interminable hours. obedience to orders from higher powers, to How completely the Church is the servant rouse the ignorant masses against the Jews. of the State, how completely it approves In a village in the province of Tchernigoff, in even the unholiest deeds of the State, is 1905 (when in a period of two months there well illustrated by its attitude toward the were hundreds of separate massacres), this Jewish massacres of recent years—many of method was attempted by the local police. which, as has been indubitably proven, were But in this village there was but one Jew and conceived and initiated by the Government, no anti-Semitic feeling; and so the people, and, where not actually participated in by perplexed, came to the village priest, who the police and troops, were at least not was generally loved, and asked if they should hindered by Government forces. Against attack the Jew and destroy his home. “No, this wholesale murder of unarmed men, indeed,” said Father Velegodsky. “He is a women, and children, the Church has not worthy man; he works hard, yet is barely lifted its voice; it has not dared to protest, even able to keep his family alive.” And the peas- if horror were felt by its dignitaries, because ants, instead of burning and murdering, were the massacres were approved by the State, moved by pity at the Jew's poverty, and and their leaders were honored and promoted. carried to him bread and potatoes. The And individual dignitaries and priests went consequence of Father Velegodsky's advice the length of openly justifying the massacres. was prompt: he was seized and thrown into For hoodlums to rush from a Jew-pursuing prison. He was soon released, but by order mob at sight of a priest, to bow, Jew-bloody of the bishop of the diocese was excom- before the clergyman and cry, “Father, your municated and unfrocked. A body of his blessing!” and then, after the benediction, to fellow-priests made an investigation of his case 808 The Travesty of Christ in Russia 809 and completely exonerated him; but the bish- him to abandon his lofty patrons for the op's order stood unchanged-an order that masses. He began to preach to the people- meant for Father Velegodsky not only expul- to preach the Christianity of the Ten Com- sion from the Church, but the loss of civil rights mandments and the Sermon on the Mount. -practically his reduction to vagabondage. Also he published a paper called God's Truth, The Church considers sympathy with the filled with simple teachings inspired by the people on the part of priests as an illegal in- Bible. The paper had a wide circulation, terference with the Government, and priests and Petroff soon became immensely popu- who so offend are disciplined as a salutarylar and immensely influential. Then came example to others. I met several liberal to pass what might have been expected. The priests who opened their secret bitterness to Holy Synod deprived him of his pulpit and me. “Here is an instance of how we are had God's Truth suppressed. punished," exclaimed to me the pastor of a But Petroff was not done for. He began to snowy village on the border of Siberia. write popular sermons, which were printed “Three months ago the priest in the next in practically all the liberal newspapers of village, who had served that village for a gen- Russia, and his influence continued una- eration, saw from his window a gendarme, bated. He became a candidate for the Second in a state of intoxication, fall upon a man and Duma, and easily led in the voting. But begin to beat him. The priest rushed out and neither the Church nor the State wanted the remonstrated with the officer. And what hap- powerful, liberal Petroff in the Duma, so the pened? A few days later he was thrown into Holy Synod removed the danger by throwing a monastic prison. The charge was that he him, upon a pretext, into the Cherementski had acted in a manner to lessen the public's Monastery. As part of his punishment there, respect for the police. And he is still in his he had, standing up, to chant psalms and re- cell and in his stead is a priest of no such peat pravers for seven hours each day, with dangerous sympathies. the eyes of spies constantly upon him. He was “In another town, where some score of kept prisoner till shortly before the dissolution men had been condemned to death for slight of the Duma, then released. There has been political offenses, several priests went in a a determined effort in the Holy Synod to un- body to the governor, humbly petitioning a frock him, but his wide popularity and his lighter punishment for the prisoners. And influence in high circles have saved him thus what happened here? The condemned men far from being made a religious outcast. were executed, and the priests, save two or Yes, everywhere is the Church. And its three who groveled and apologized, were omnipresent might seems to exist solely to stifle seized and thrown into prison for their trea the intellectual awakening of the people, their sonable impudence. soul-development, their agonizing aspiration “And see this paper. It is an order from for political liberty—to throttle the Christ the Holy Synod. It says that any priest who struggling within them. ... And yet, de- uses his influence in behalf of a liberal candi- spite all its malign endeavor, true religion in date for the Duma, or votes for such a candi- Russia is not dead; it is not dead even in date, will be cast out of the Church. And if the Church itself. There is within the Church we disobey, the Church will know. Nothing a younger generation of priests, of whom escapes its spies! Fairness, justice, mercy, Father Petroff is the most distinguished ex- the spirit of Christ-ah, these things our ample, whose ideal is the reorganization of Church knows not!” the Church upon a basis of true Christianity. In higher ranks the attitude of the Church is Many such priests I met - broad-minded, the same. The five liberal priests who were earnest men, serving Christ up to the very members of the Second Duma were unfrocked boundaries of the Church's restrictions. But by the Holy Synod for not supporting the op- these are a helpless minority, and their pressive policy of the Government. And the dream will remain a hopeless dream till that case of Father Petroff, at present the most vague time when the impatient political vision popular Churchman in Russia, is another of the people shall have been fulfilled. For so pertinent illustration. Father Petroff in his long as Autocracy stands, so long will the young manhood had favor in the highest Church continue to rank with the army as court and official circles. But their indiffer- a mere prop of Czarism-so long will it re- ence to the misery of the country, together main a religion of hollow forms, a religion with his natural democratic instinct, impelled that is true religion's worst enemy. CHES Dan “THEY MET FACE TO FACE IN FRONT OF THE OLD ROSSMORE." 810 The Kings of Hate By ARTHUR STRINGER Author of "The Silver Poppy," "The l'ire-Tappers,” etc. Illustrations by W. Herbert Dunton THE fog hung over the city like a blanket, deep-set eyes, the grim and down-drawn T unbroken, engulfing, stippled by the mouth that slashed across the bony face, white and yellow of the street-lamps. Beside almost mummy-like with its cada verous me, well back in the doorway, lounged yellowness of skin. A sharp-spoken word "Lefty" Lynch, the Central Office stool- or two cut the silence. The cab crept on pigeon. We stood and smoked there, placid- along the gutter-edge and once more came to ly, and with singularly disengaged minds. a stop, half-way down the block. It stood And while we smoked we gazed out at the there, motionless, silent, mysterious. . . mist-draped solitude of Seventh Avenue and Lefty caught me by the arm. Then - he casually watched a lonely and funereal four- emitted a subdued little whistle. “What is wheeler as it crept along the wet asphalt. it?" I asked. I watched him edge out to Yet somewhere just beyond Broadway a where he could command a clearer view of fire was raging. Already above the house thạt waiting carriage. tops we could see the “sky-flare,” red and “What is it?" I repeated. sullen through the muffling fog. We could His answer came in two words: “Butch hear the clang and rumble of engines thun Adams!” dering down the deserted cañon of Broad- It took me a minute or two to place the way and shrieking and scolding at the cross- name. It brought back to my mind the streets. A second and a third alarm had Albany Post-Office affair and the Biff Mc- gone in. The precinct patrolmen had been Cabe case and the Fenton shooting in the called for and would be off their beats until Rossmore. I began to understand why Lefty the “reserves” were posted. . So we knew had whistled. that very much as rats swarm up through a “But I thought he was in Mattea wan for deserted warehouse, the furtive shadows of the life?" Underworld would come swarming up over “And I thought the same, my friend! And the unguarded city. so did most of us! But the man sitting in that So we smoked and waited, gazing idly at cab is Butch Adams--Adams, alias Yeamans, the funereal four-wheeler, as it drew up at the alias Buggsey Ballard, the trickiest con-man, curb, scarcely five paces from where we stood. the crookedest fighter, who ever bucked The driver, in his wet rain-coat, sat on the against Byrnes and McCluskev!” box, impassive, motionless, like a figure “Will you gather him in?” I casually carved out of ebony. The wheels grated and inquired. locked against the curb; the lines drooped; Lefty, the stool-pigeon, stood smoking for a the horses steamed in the moist air. moment or two, his eye on the black shadow Out of the black cavern of the carriage of the waiting cab. Then he laughed a little, hood, suddenly, we saw the spurt of a lighted quietly, meditatively, before he answered. match. As the flame caught and the circle “Not for me, thank you!” he murmured. of light widened, I could see a head within, “I've had enough shake-downs buiting in on bent low over a slip of white paper. Then . Fenton's business!” the match burned away, and the cab was “But what has Fenton to do with it?”. once more a cave of darkness. But I had “He's got just enough to do with it to have made out the face of the man distinctly. the private tip go out to every one from the Blocked out in that momentary aura of light captain down, that there is to be no cake- I had seen the wide, ape-like shoulders, the walking across any o’ his personal trails! 8u The Kings of Hate 813 “Funk? Fenton funk? I guess not! bullet through the neck, and another in the There were reasons why he couldn't carry on shin-bone. Being gamblers, neither man'd his scrapping-match. So he sloped north, give any information, or lay a charge. So to let Adams cool down. But Adams was nothing was done, though Schmittenberg and after him, hot as a hornet, following him to the District Attorney had a powwow with Denver, and keeping up with him on a second Fenton. It was that, I guess, made Adams jump to San Francisco. From there Fenton think the other man was a ‘snitch.' For the skirted up the coast to Seattle, and turned up reward was posted a week later for Fenton's next in Minneapolis, where they knew his old partner. It was based on the Gideon record and headed him off toward Mil- Syndicate case and the Albany Post-Office waukee. From there he took a night-boat job. Adams had to migrate, and keep low. for Chicago, where he was rounded up by a But he got even in his own way. Fenton was Pinkerton man, and put aboard a St. Louis plunging in Coney Island real estate those express, with Adams one train behind him. days. Adams worked back, got the lay of At the Planters', they say, he went down on Fenton's place, blew the door off his safe, and one elevator as Adams went up on the other. carried away $1,800. He also left the word But he got to "Squealer'chalked Washington, and nice and plain then to Baltimore, across the cash and there he sent drawer.” his wife through to I recalled the New York by robbery. That, boat, thinking the too, had been ro- strain was too manced about and much for her. enlarged upon, up Then he dodged and down the back to Philadel- Rialto, for years. phia, and caught It took my gaze an express from back to the wait- Germantown to ing carriage, where Jersey City. And the principal of the an hour after he'd long and tangled crossed the Hud- drama sat hidden són, he had a even as we talked. promise from the “My, my, but man higher up, Big Bob took the backed by instruc- loss of that money tions to Schmit- hard,' went on tenberg, that New Lefty, close beside York City should me. “But once he be kept too hot for got his head he be- Butch Adams!” gan working the “But they did ropes again, slow come together?” I and careful, fixing broke in, for the the right people Tenderloin still W. Herbert Duncan and oiling the right talked of that interests-doing flight and chase everything to across a continent. make himself safe. "Sure they Two weeks later a came together! me together. "A GIRL WHO HAD A HISTORY THAT LEFT JOAN OF ARC wire went out for Adams got in over the arrest of Harlem Bridge, Adamson sight. and they met face to face in front of the old Butch saved his scalp by getting across the Rossmore. Fenton got his shot between the border to Montreal. He killed time there for a eyebrows, on the bridge of the nose and the couple of years smuggling Chinamen over into frontal bone. Adams, as you'll recall, got a Vermont. So Big Bob was left alone with his A FOUR-FLU'SHLR." 814 Everybody's Magazine family, and went on making money and getting "I guess they're enough wise guys on the deeper into East Side 'politics,' and took over force to keep a finger out of that pie!” he a tenement or two and a half-interest in an ruminated aloud. I demanded to know automobile factory, and bought a theatre, and what he meant. prospered and grew respectable, and even “You'll have to do a little investigating of laid plans for an aldermanic nomination. your own, if you want to know what I mean,” And did you ever hear what the man in the was his answer. cab yonder remarked when he read about I looked out at the fog-bound city, at the Fenton's first clam-chowders down the Sound still waiting cab. I remembered the grim and his naming his second boy after the and vindictive face I had seen behind its Mayor? He just handed the paper back to curtains. I recalled the strange and gruesome his hoosier room-chum and said: 'I'll sweeten story, the years of hate and intrigue, the em- his pie for him!'" bittered hearts and blighted lives, the whole We sat for a moment, side by side, in dark and still unended drama. silence, looking at the cab. Lefty relit his “I am going to follow this thing out for cigar before he spoke. myself!” I said, with a sudden determination. “But you remember what happened. Big The Central Office man laughed easily. Bob's eyesight began to fail him, from that “All right,” he said, flinging away his cigar- old wound along the frontal bone. When end and stretching himself. “But be careful Adams heard of that he descended on the of just one thing when you're investigating island so full of glee that he had to load up in a that game: Don't get shoved into the ring Third Avenue joint, and was rounded in with and stepped on!” half a gallon of nitro under his arm by a I looked at him, bewildered. He laughed a Fenton lookout. So Big Bob started work- little, and turned up his coat-collar. "Well, ing the wires again, still more slow and I've got my ward to look after,” he mur- thorough this time. Inside of a month, some mured, and with that he drifted southward way or other, Adams there was sent up to through the fog, and was lost to sight. Matteawan. A month later Fenton went I no longer hesitated, once I had decided stone blind, still fretting and worrying about on my plan of action. A little shop, with Adams. And he kept on fretting, until he drawn blinds, seemed the only port into which bought that old Penfield club-house and got that furtive figure of five minutes before might it barred and walled off into a kind of fortress, have beaten a retreat. And where that and had a walking-track and a swimming- stranger who had spoken through the cab pool built up on its roof, where he's kept him door went, I intended to follow. So I rolled self for two years, and that's where he is going out through the fog, with the gait of a mid- to keep himself—and I guess that's about night drunkard. When I saw lights behind where my story ends!” the drawn blinds I veered about to the shop “But you said the man in the cab there door and calmly opened it. The next moment was Adams!” I broke out. I had as calmly and casually stepped inside. “Did I?” he said indifferently. He began A companionable smell of mingled warm buttoning up his overcoat. air and cigar smoke, of bay rum and soap and “And if that's Adams, what's he doing Florida water, greeted my nose. Tilted back here in New York ?” in a row stood three barber's chairs of worn “D'you suppose I'm paid for knowing and faded plush. Each chair, so wide-armed things like that?" answered the stool-pigeon. and inviting, was empty. A kettle steamed “But you must have a suspicion, haven't and sang from a little coal-stove behind them. you, that he's here for trouble?—that he might Near a white boarded partition that cut off want to settle that old score with Fenton?” the back of the room lounged a small-bodied Lefty did not answer my question at the Calabrian, thrumming a guitar. He was in moment. Instead, he pulled me deeper into his shirt-sleeves, and his face was pitted with the shadow of the doorway, for the figure of a smallpox. From a tin cage above him sang man had edged out across the sidewalk, had and trilled a yellow canary. Two other men, remained talking for a minute or two at the sallow and neutral-tinted, bent over a table cab-door, and had as mysteriously edged beside the stove, silently playing a game his way back and disappeared. There was of cards. One was low-browed and short- something very knowing in Lefty's smile, as nosed, ſat-handed and placid and sleek. The he stood there peering through the fog. other was nervous and lean; his face reminded WHerhaT ORT 7 THE STREET-DOOR OPENED WITH THE SUDDENXESS OF A PISTOL-SHOT. me of a hawk's. On the partition, between the crack of the drawn blind I could still see two pink-tinted and pornographic wine-ad- the faint lamps of the waiting cab outside. vertisements, was a telephone. And I could at least wait until I had made The men, after one quick glance up, played sure of my ground. on in drowsy silence. There was something Slowly the sleek and fat-handed man rose warm and quiet and homelike about the little to his feet. Quite as slowly he lolled over to shop, something soothing in the steaming where I sat, with sleepy and indifferent eyes. kettle and the slowly curling smoke, some It was after hours, ḥe told me; the shop was thing conciliating in the low throb and drone closed. of the guitar and the comfortable music of No sign of life came into his face until I the bird. flashed my "put-back” roll, and flung a five- I began to see that I was mistaken. But I dollar bill on his mirror-shelf. Then, in the peeled off my coat and staggered over into arbitrary tones of intoxication, I told him I · one of the faded plush chairs. For through wanted everything from a Belgian hair-cut to 815 The Kings of Hate 817 circuit, a wire once used, perhaps, for pool- “What?" demanded the wire. room purposes, but now out of active racing “Count me out, I have big things doing- service. Where it led to I could not even Adams is out of Matteawan!” Then came a surmise. But its obvious immunity from in second or two of silence. terruption left me with the impression that it “What Adams?” was a strictly limited circuit ending in some “Adams-Butch Adams-Buggsey Bal- well-screened companion dive beyond the lard.” ward. Of one thing there could be no mis- “I guess I understand—but what is he take: this weasel-faced man behind the par- doing out of dump?" tition was nursing no fears as to his own “Centre Street people tipped them off up safety, for the trend of the talk between the there, maybe, to make it easy for him—ther operators at each end of the wire, as clear to me want to get him loose and see if it won't be a as though I had been reading it line for line case of dog eat dog." from a printed page before my eyes, had “You don't mean get at Fenton?” already branded him as the middleman” of “Sure I mean Fenton--those two men have a band of forgers. The shop itself was an had it hot and heavy for seven years—to-night innocent-fronted “dump,” I next discovered, they're going to fight it out to a finish.” for the meeting of “scratchers” and “go “But is Fenton wise?” asked the wire. betweens” and “layers-down”. And I soon “Not if we know it.” understood, as I listened to the quick ex “Then you mean Adams and Fenton will change of question and answer, how essential get together, after all! How about bulls?” that wire was for their operations. Bulls, I knew, was yeggman argot for police But the matter of the patiently waiting cab officers. was still a mystery. And a mystery it re- “They daren't touch the case,” was the mained, until I knew, by the change in the answer. “The Old Man dropped the hint, “send," that a new man was at the far end of and they're all wise—so it's just dog eat dog the wire. I realized by the quick ease with until something is chewed up, and no in- which he slung off the hog-Morse, that I was terference.” listening to still another operator who was The little dot-and-dash instrument clicked both adept and experienced. out a mirthless “Ha-ha!” There seemed "Is this Shorty?" asked the key behind the something almost Satanic in that metallic partition, after its bridging and introductory Morse symbol for laughter, something cruel double “I's,” like the call to attention of a and calm and dispassionate. telephone bell. “But what's this gamblers' row to you?” “Yes,” answered the sounder. “Who's asked the wire. sending?" “I get five hundred for getting Adams into The answer I could not make out: it was Fenton's.” I sat up a little, involuntarily, at given in cipher. But the rest of the message the words. Then I listened to the key again. was plain. “I drop out of the Buck Creegan “And another fifty from outside when the move to-night.” business is finished up proper." “You can't drop out!” complained the “Is deal square?” asked the wire. sounder, for to the experienced ear "tele- “Square enough for two lunatics, I guess," graphese” can be made as mobile and ex- answered the sounder behind the partition. pressive as the tones of the human voice. “They're dead ones now in everything but “Is everything clear to talk over this wire?” that old scrap of theirs—I guess they'll die was the next sentence. happy as bulldogs if they get their teeth set in “Everything safe as a cellar-go on," each other.” answered the key behind the partition. Then came another brief silence. I “Pinkertons nipped Creegan's layer at noticed for the first time that the barber no noon to-day on a one-hundred raised note- longer stood beside me. He was placidly he bought a drink to pass the bill and the reading a pink-tinted evening paper behind booze spilled on his brush-work and made the the stove. color run-let Sullivan know and see what “The Chief wants to know what you're can be done." doing now?” asked the wire again. “You see what comes of boozing,” an- “Waiting here with Adams until Fenton's swered the mirthless key. “But I can't touch men get away and Everhardt is off the beat. Creegan or Sullivan-this is my busy night.” He's uncertain.” 818 Everybody's Magazine “Well, enjoy yourself,” answered the mirth- less wire, followed by a crisply sent “30," the “telegraphese” for “Good night.” “Thirty,” answered the key, and a moment later I heard the sound of steps on the floor inside. I was snoring audibly as the door opened. Although I could not see the weasel- faced man as he stepped out and stood there, I knew he was peering over at me. I also knew he had made some peremptory sign to the man reading the newspaper, for a moment later I heard the rustle of the fallen pages and the sound of his steps coming toward me. He shook me roughly. I was hard to waken, and gaped up at him mumblingly, and then wrathfully. I settled back, and he shook me again. But in the meantime I had seen two things. One was the glimmer of the lamps of the still waiting cab, through the blind-cracks, and the other was the weasel- faced individual standing impatiently in front of the telephone on the partition. I pulled myself together, yawning and stretching. Much as I wanted to stay and hear just what message would go over that telephone, I saw my presence there longer was impossible. I lounged over toward my hat and coat, sleepily adjusted my collar and tie, and even essayed to feed a cuttlefish bone to the drowsy canary. But I saw by the face of the fat-handed man holding the door for me that patience was exhausted. And I had no desire to cross any one of the worthies in that placid little shop. So I stumbled out into the foggy street, turning aimlessly southward past the waiting cab. I had just time to round the first corner when the man with the weasel face darted out across the sidewalk and sprang through the cab-door, which had opened for him as he came. Then I heard the horse's hoofs pound the asphalt, and the ratile of wheels. I swung about, and sprinted toward Sixth Avenue, in the wake of the hurrying carriage. Under the shadow of an “L” station stood three “night-hawks." The man on the last cab, a claret-skinned buccaneer in an oilskin coat, caught sight of me as I ran toward him through the fog. Being a Tenderloin cab man, he snatched up his whip and reins without questioning, before my foot touched the steps. The other carriage was out of sight. “The old Penfield club-house, quick!” I called out, as the hoofs clattered, the door slammed, and we jolted over the car tracks. Even the l’nder Groove has secrets of its own. But bit by bit and fragment by frag- ment, as I sat back on those foul and moldy- smelling cushions, I pieced together what I had heard and what I had already known, bridging each fissure with inference and deduction. And as the strange and mottled story of those two lives that had been given up to hate bickered through my brain, with the flashing speed of a kinetoscope film, it filled me with a certain awe at the primordial and epic-like ferocities, the dogged and bar- baric malignity, of its two grim protagonists. The weasel-faced man at the wire had been right; they were “dead ones.” The slow and corroding poison of that long hatred, of that sullen and sinister virulence of soul, had already done its work. They were mere derelicts on the sea-lanes of actual life. One was a man without sight; the other had al- ready paced the cells of a criminals' asylum. They were already dead; they were nothing now but madly contentious shadows, un- wholesome phantoms crowned with the swamp-glow of decaying hatreds. Yet as I recalled certain rumors and whispers that had traveled up and down the Under Groove, certain stories of how the blind Fenton guarded and nursed his strength and daily and most patiently practised with his re- volvers, shooting at targets from which bells sounded, training his ear to detect the minutest change of distance by sound variation, I began to foresee that this lonely Samson in his city fortress might still make his stand against the circuitous assault of Adams. Whatever form that assault might take, it was clear that there would be no outside interference. One of the laws of the lawless is to let every man finish his own fight. And Fenton, the poli- tician, had become a menace to his opponents. With the police, apparently, it was to be fire fighting fire. I decided, during that wild drive, that it would be better for me to drop out within a square or two of Fenton's place. My approach would have to be indirect and unnoticed. Yet I felt convinced that some secret and un- foreseen avenue of attack had been left open for Adams. It was plain that he did not intend to strike openly. His entrance to that stronghold of the enemy would have to be an unsuspected and illicit one. My first task was to discover that way of entrance. Once away from my cab, I made a careful circuit of the block. The fog had lifted by this time, and now a cold rain, slashing across the city from the east, left the undulating The Kings of Hate 819 pavements full of puddles. Seeing nothing, my backbone as I heard the squeak of the I crossed the street to the shadowy and drier grating-hinge, and the momentary rattle of corners of the shop-fronts. From there I the chain-lock, and then the heavy breathing looked up, studying the blurred sky-line before of the intruder, as he groped his way in me. While I stood there, well back in the through the darkness. And that man, I knew, gloom of a cloak factory's delivery door, as he felt about for the stairway, was Adams buttressed by empty packing-cases, a little himself. There was no mistaking the ape- man with a weasel face went by. like shoulders, even in dim silhouette. He I watched him guardedly, shadowing every was alone, and he had locked the grating move he made. I saw him cross to the other behind him. I waited there without moving. side of the street, and beat back again in the I found it hard to relish the thought that the direction from which he had first appeared. man before me was Butch Adams. Three doors west of the Fenton building I Then I heard him ascend, step by step, and saw him come to a sudden stop. I had time, open a door at the head of the stairway. I as he looked cautiously up and down the knew, from the sound of those quick and un- street, to dip back behind a flight of door hesitating footsteps, that he was afraid of steps. Then I saw the gaunt figure stoop neither discovery nor interference. He must and quickly test with one hand the iron have known, I surmised, that the building grating that opened to the sidewalk on which was empty. he stood. Then he peered up and down the Something in the fate-like tread of those rain-swept street again, and went scurrying unhesitating feet, as I crept up after him, around the nearest corner, northward. stairway by stairway, seemed as blind and I directed my attention to this building implacable as the homing instinct of animals, before which he had stopped. It was one of as the spawning-passion of salmon climbing those shabbily staid Knickerbocker residences wild and bruised to their almost inaccessible so common in the lower parts of New York, head waters. Even as I stood on the iron belatedly surrendered to commercial pursuits. ladder under the carefully replaced hatch The lower half of it, I could see by the sign- through which he had disappeared, and board, had been converted into a cigar heard the rain beating and pounding on the factory. The two upper stories had been flat tinned roof, I did not hesitate to follow made into fur lofts. close at his heels. For I felt that he would Thirty seconds after that furtive figure had never stop until he had reached his goal. passed the street-corner, I was testing the same The thought came to me, as I cautiously iron grating with my own fingers. For I had emerged from the narrow hatch and peered reason to suspect that the coming intruder, about, through the sting of the rain, at that when once inside, would see to it that this broken and lonely sky-line of roofs so high particular grating was locked after him. above the city, that this arena of coming It was still unlocked, and swung outward struggle was to be as isolated as though it lay without resistance. So, drawing it back, I on some rock-plateau of a desert. It seemed dropped down into the cellar-like opening another world—that city of sleepers, of light closing the little iron-rodded door after me. and life and warmth, only five short stories Then I listened for a second or two, and, below me. Yet there on the crest of that hearing nothing, struck a match and made lonely sky-line, three roofs to the westward, my way cautiously forward into the cellar. blocked out against the midnight gloom, stood I blanketed the flame with my hands so the Fenton building. And as I crouched and that the merest pencil of light went out be- peered toward it I could see a dim figure fore me. It fell on rows of moldy-smelling creeping cat-like along the rising tiers of in- tobacco-leaf bales, with here and there a bar- tervening roofs. rel and a pine box or two. From the inner- I advanced as he advanced, only I went on most corner ascended a broken and dirt- my hands and knees through pools of water, littered stairway. I should have preferred and under the dripping rods of a broken iron getting up that stairway, and on up to the roof fence, scrambling slowly up four feet of roof even, at once. But I was uncertain as wet brick wall, squirming through still other to what might confront me above-stairs. So rusty iron bars, and always seeking the I waited well back behind the rank-odored shelter of the house-chimneys where they tobacco bales, knowing it would not be long. offered shelter. A little tingle of shock ran up and down B efore me stood what I knew to be the 820 Everybody's Magazine roof-top gymnasium, the walking-track and life cheap and reveled in its risks and dangers, swimming-pool, of the blind gambler. It at last were confronting each other, were was little more than a clumsily improvised to essay once more that fight which had em- superstructure, imposed on a portion of the bittered and stunted their minds and warped original Penfield building, and now guarded and wrecked their lives. They were alone by a sort of chevaux-de-frise of pointed there, at last, face to face, on that lonely wrought-iron rods. It was little more than a housetop, shut off from the rest of the world. rectangle of bald brick wall surmounted by destined to fight out their fight without earthly two huge skylights. And from no part of it interference, without possible help. There did a glimmer of light come. seemed something legendary and Neolithic I wormed my way slowly across to the in it all to me, as I crept up the iron ladder wrought-iron rods. The ninth rod that I and dropped down beside the open skylight. tugged at was loose. It had been sawn There was something so ferine and untamed through at the base with a burglar's steel and ruthless in it all, something so aboriginal saw. As I stooped there, waiting, I heard a and adamitic, that it seemed almost absurd to faint but unmistakable noise. It was the me that each man should hold in his hand a sound a pocket jimmy might make in forcing revolver, a delicate instrument, a glimmering a window sash. The man before me had in firearm, a complicated and highly developed some way mounted the bald brick wall and tool of an age that calls itself civilized. Be- pried open one of the skylights. low me lay the garishly lighted gymnasium, Minute by minute crept by, but no further as bare and bald as a barn. From end to end sound came down to me. A quarter of an stretched the limpid surface of the swimming- hour lengthened to a half-hour, and still I pool, circled by its narrow wooden track. crouched there in the driving rain, waiting. Behind this again stood the plain walls of Then above each skylight suddenly flow- whitewashed brick. At the far end was a ered and hung a thin glow of light. The door. On one side of the pool stood the electrics in the gymnasium below had been great giant-like figure of Fenton. He waited turned on. I could distinctly hear the slow there, alert and challenging, poised and and steady tramp of feet. It was Fenton. listening, and as I peered down at him I It was the blind man, pacing the lonely could scarcely believe that the man I saw was ramparts of his fortress. I pushed up the blind. He stood there so unflinching, so loose rod and squeezed in between the wet ominous, holding in his hand a long-barreled irons, circling the brick wall cautiously, step Colt “repeater." by step. On the remoter side of it my T hen, as I watched, I understood for the groping hands came in contact with a little first time the cat-like intruder's bewilder- segment of iron roof-fencing, standing on end ment. Not only did the Colt point directly against the wall. It had been used as a at the crouching figure of Adams, but as ladder, to gain the gymnasium roof. Adams stepped to one side, the gun-barrel My moment of hesitation, as I stood with followed him, foot by foot, at the sound of one foot on the first rung of that improvised eich more. As he stepped to the other side, ladder, was broken by a muffled scrape and the ever-menacing barrel still followed him. a soft thud. It sounded through the beating I once more remembered the talk about rain, little more than a cat-leap on a bare Fenton and his revolver-practise: how, after floor. It was followed by a second unmis- sight had left him, he had made a laborious takable sound, an involuntary, irrepressible study of sound-direction, month after month wolf-like snarl of hate. But even before volleying at targets from behind which signals I heard the blind man's sharp answering had sounded, day by day sensitizing his ear challenge, his animal-like cry of alarm, to detect the minutest refraction and direction I knew that the intruder had let himself of sound. down through the opened skylight, that the Adams stood there, hesitating, in wonder, two were together. realizing that the other man's barrel covered him, fearing, I took it, that this barrel might Adams was in the stronghold of the man bark out at even the telltale click of a trigger- he hated. Those two old and unrelenting · spring. But he was more than crafty. I saw enemies at last were together, face to face. him take out his knife, and quietly cut his Those two spirits of crime and adventure, shoe laces, from top to bottom, and even down who had lived fast and loose, who had held into the leather of the uppers. Then he The Kings of Hate 821 stepped silently out of the shoes, and went pulsating roar of sound that was almost padding and crouching noiselessly along the deafening. But I saw, as those bullets wooden track, toward the door at the end of flattened against the whitewashed bricks, that the pool. Once opposite it, he dropped to his he was quickly yet deliberately raking the hands and knees, darted out a hand, and length of the pool, from east to west, foot by foot. turned the key in the lock. Quick as a fash Adams poised there motionless, knowing he flung the key into the pool—for he wanted the slightest sound might still betray him, and no interruptions. watching that relentless volley come nearer The result of those two actions more than and nearer, puzzled, bewildered, knowing he startled me. For each movement was followed must act and act quickly. by a shot from Fenton's repeating Colt. The Why he did what he did in his unreasoning first tore through the door panel, a foot above passion for escape only he and his Maker where Adams crouched. The second spit and will ever know. But suddenly he dived head cut into the water of the swimming-pool, foremost into the pool. within two feet of where the key had splashed. Fenton waited and listened only one Adams crouched there, transfixed. Equally second. It was, perhaps, merely to make motionless stood the other man, waiting for sure of his bearings. An exultant little cry the least sound. There was nothing, for a of satisfaction, of triumph, escaped him. moment or two, to break the dead silence. Then the sound of his great body as it cut the It was a tableau that might be seen only water rose even above the calling and the once in a lifetime—the two waiting and frantic pounding on the door. challenging and menacing figures, facing each The two enemies at last had met, body to other across that unruffled pool of water. . body, barehanded; they were fighting it out How long that tableau might have lasted it with the tooth and nail and sheer muscu- is hard to say. But it was ended from a lar strength of primitive man. The water quarter least expected. It was broken by the thrashed and churned, where they met and frenzied call of a woman's voice, a cry of fear locked together. The battling bodies rose that filled the place with a sudden tumult and and went under, and rose again, and still riot of noise, followed by a quick and terrified once more went under. Then the churning pounding on the locked door. water quieted; nothing but an air-bubble or It was then, as Fenton half turned toward two came to the limpid surface. the door, that Adams fired! He fired madly, I drew back, for the door had been broken insanely, clutching one of the stanchions and in. I turned away, and climbing down the leaning far out over the pool, emptying every section of roof-fencing, staggered away across chamber of his revolver in one wide volley. the wet housetops, down some unknown fire- Fenton returned his fire, not wildly, but escape, and out into the muffling and shelter- calmly, methodically, filling the place with a ing blackness of the night. W.HD 07 THE BATTLING BODIES ROSE AND WENT UNDER, AND ROSE AGAIN. Che Players CLORIFIED theft of “The Thief” that one is U seems to appeal to tempted to describe it as an theatrical audiences. intellectual drama, though “Raffles” and “Leah it is far from being anything Kleschna” are still en- of the kind. joving enormous pros- Those who know most perity on the road, al- about the difficult art of though they are now only playwriting are loudest in memories in New York, their praises of the technic- where the foundation of their success al perfection of this drama, and it is was laid. But these memories are this perfection, more than anything sharply revived by a new play, frankly else, that explains its success. It may called “The Thief,” which has made surprise you to know that it is infinitely an impression that approaches a sensation. easier to write a play with many char- It is an extraordinary drama, one of acters than one with only a few; that the those that command interest at the very four-act form is much easier than the start and hold it to the end, while at the three-act form; and that the introducticn same time tempting people of an analytic- of a sub-plot is, in some sort, a confession al turn of mind into long discussion- that the author cannot sustain interest effects that do not always go together. in his main theme throughout the play. The heroine is just what the title calls There are very few modern plays in which her-a thief. Heretofore it has been held are not introduced scenes whose real that a play with such a central figure object, more or less skilfully disguised, is could not succeed on the American stage. to kill time, for a play must run approxi- We are supposed to demand that heroes mately for about 120 acting minutes- and heroines be possessed of virtue-pure, 130, if it is a three-act play. twenty-four carat virtue—on the stage. Now “The Thief” has but seven char- "The Thief” smashes this cherished tra- acters all told, one of whom is a servant. dition, for it is not only the most talked It has not the suggestion of a sub-plot, about but the most successful, financially, and no comedy. It is in three acts, and of the new plays. Let us see why. there is not a scene that is irrelevant; in- The author, Henri Bernstein, a native 2 deed, not one that doesn't seem to be of Paris, shows a marvelous mastery of the 26 absolutely necessary. The action takes art of making plays. One is sure that, in place within twelve hours. There is no the beginning, his object was to give an actress delving into history to make it plain; every- opportunity for what is known as emotional thing happens before the audience. And work, an ambition that has inspired some there is action all the time, with continual thousands of plays, I suppose. To this end surprises, even in the long second act where he invented an absorbing melodramatic story; only two people are on the stage. The au- and he develops the situations with an inge- thor's powers of invention seem to be without nuity all the more remarkable because logic limit, and yet, when it is all over, one feels is not sacrificed. M. Bernstein has, be- that the drama has developed logically and sides, the scholarly touch, the capacity for naturally, that it could have followed no clear and exact thinking, for forceful expres- other course. ,sion. In fact, so brilliant is the handling In my opinion, the success of this play 822 natural enough, but the wonderful acting of Nazimova has been noised about, and those who are attracted to the theatre become her captives. The G. P. is willing to accept the drama for the sake of the actress. If one is interested in trying to find out how others think, in tracing out intellectual proc- esses, then this “soul study," as Mr. Archer calls it, of a man with a sickly conscience that is continually getting in its deadly work, is really absorbing. But if one has small in- terest in psychology, preferring to feel rather than to think, then the Ibsen play is the most depressing horror the stage has known. I am sure it is not Ibsen but the genius of Nazimova that crowds the theatre nightlv: The marked improvement in her English makes it possible for her to reveal more con vincingly her great power as an actress, to give the most delicate shadings, and to make the spoken word as eloquent as are her facial expression and her gestures. She is so natu- ral, so real, so thoroughly alive, that she never seems to be acting at all. Indeed, one of the secrets of her success with Ibsen's heroines is that she makes them human flesh and blood people, and not mere psychological ab- stractions, vague symbols of shadowy truths. And along with her consummate art, her great versatility, she has the wonderful quality of personal attraction that is called magnetism. At twenty-eight Alla Nazimova must be ranked with the half-dozen greatest actresses of the past quarter of a century. In every character she plays she seems a wholly different woman. Valiantly and not unsuccessfully does Wal- ter Hampton struggle with the difficult part of Solness, the master builder. He looks the part, especially in its splendid virility, and he reads with much intelligence, but he has not the magic giſt of portraying illusion; one cannot forget that he is acting. On the other hand, H. Reeves-Smith, so thoroughly dis- guised by make-up that his best friend would not recgonize him, is very real as Dr. Herdal. On the whole, “The Master Builder" is very much better acted than any other Ibsen play that I have seen. “The Struggle Everlasting” is not nearly so great a novelty as the exploitation of the idea led one to believe it would be. Edwin Milton Royle, an honor man in his univer- sity, who studied for the bar, turned actor, and then developed into a playwright, at- tempted a daring thing—to write a "modern morality play.” Like his earlier play, “The Squaw Man," it was originally in one act and was presented at a gambol of the Lambs' Club, the most powerful of the actors' social organizations in New York. It was after- wards elaborated into a prologue and three acts. The result is curious and interesting. The program prepares one for symbolical drama, inasmuch as the chief characters are called Mind, Body, Soul, Worldly Wise, A Banker, and so on. The prologue, in a very elaborate and beautiful forest setting, is supposed to strike the key. In this, Body is a mysteriously fascinating woodland sprite and Mind is a young student. But in the first act Mr. Royle plunges boldly into modern drama. If one did not see the prologue, it would not be missed at all; and without the program to guide, one would never suspect that “The Struggle Everlasting” was meant to be a symbolical play. It is merely a modern drama with an unpleasant theme which de- velops powerful situations, none too closely knit together. In brief, the story is that of a young student who has been carrying on an affair with a servant girl whom he takes to the city upon his graduation. There the girl develops into a very thorough, prosper- ous courtesan, who wrecks the life of a dozen people: a prizefighter, a musician, a banker, and an actor; the student who is Hind alone escaping destruction. In the end she falls in love with a young preacher, who is Soul. He converts her to the extent of making her realize the error of her ways, and she com- mits suicide to save the clergvman's career. Now the old morality plays deal with broad TUR . 824 abstractions, are more or less independent of time and place, and have an austere dignity, often a lofty grandeur. “The Struggle Ever- lasting” is concrete; it does not have general significance, not because its problem is per- sonal, but because its characters are individ- uals, rather than types, despite the abstrac- tions suggested by the names on the program Mind might be John March, and Body might be Flossie Montmorency. For the most part, the dialogue is written in the colloquial speech of the college and of the Great White Way in New York, and some of it is brilliant. One might well believe-although I do not think it is true—that Mr. Royle had employed the morality play idea to give him greater license, to enable him to say things that might offend without the disarming morality play hall-mark. “The Struggle Everlasting” is exceedingly well acted. Florence Roberts is the star, and she again shows herself one of the best trained of modern actresses, displaying about as high a degree of mechanical perfection as a player can hope to attain. She seems to know every trick of the stage: the exact value of the movement of a finger, of every inflec- tion. But there is no inspiration in her acting, none of the magic something that gets hold of one. She lacks the art of concealing her art—to use a hackneyed phrase—so that one is reminded of General Horace Porter's definition of a mugwump as a person "edu- cated beyond his capacity.” Arthur Byron doesn't look like Mind; neither does his acting suggest the domination of intellectual force. But he is highly intelli- RENA VIVIENNE AND CORA MALVERN IN "MADAM BUTTERFLY." 826 Photograph by White, New York. ETHEL JACKSON AND THE "SHOW GIRLS" IN "THE MERRY WIDOW." gent and forceful, even if he is rather calls “The Evangelist.” Really, it is another fleshly. DeWitt Jennings, the preacher, who edition of “The Hypocrites.” Stripped to is called Soul in the program, is remarkably the essentials, both are rather commonplace effective; as the stage preacher who stands melodrama. Both have fine characteriza- for the old-fashioned pietistic religion always tion, brilliant lines, and scintillating satire. is. The manly preacher is one of the most. In both there are two women guilty of the dependable of the playwright's characters, unpardonable sin, of which, it appears, only and he is a stupid dramatist who cannot put women can be guilty. Mr. Jones has in his mouth effective scriptural quotations. Sent more women to the bad for the sake of Mr. Jennings is a strong actor and he plays redeeming them than has any other living with real earnestness and sincerity. Robert dramatist; and he handles them to the great Peyton Carter as Worldly Wise, Edwin Holt delight of minds of a certain conventional as A Banker, Joseph Adelman as An Actor, order—especially in England, where his pop- and Franklin Roberts as A Pugilist stand ularity is enormous. out in a cast wherein the smallest part is as In this latest play he lampoons the clergy carefully presented as the most important. mercilessly, that is, the regular clergy, from Henry Arthur Jones also depends upon a a bishop of the established church down to preacher to carry his latest play, which he the narrow, belligerent pastor of Ebenezer GRIND 828 Photograph by White, New York. FLORA JULIET BOWLEY AND ROBERT EDESON IN “CLASSMATES." 829 The Players 831 extravagance for the sake of a laugh. Apparently re- membering every bit of horse-play, every inflection, every twist and turn that produced an effect, he cuts up monkey shines to his heari's content. And peo- ple like it. He has very excellent material provided him by the author, Charles Marlow, especially in the second act, where Sir Guy De Vere, waking up to find he has gone back 700 years, nevertheless tries to run his castle according to modern ideas. Mr. Wilson has a gorgeous time clowning it, and there is nothing he does so well. The George Cohan school of musical comedy has many imitators, which is not to be marveled at, con- sidering the success attained by the young Irishman. Mr. Cohan introduces in his musical mixtures what is supposed to be "pathetic heart interest," but what is nothing but commonplace melodrama of a rather cheap sort. His imitators have not discovered the im- Photograph by Otto Sarony Co., New York. portant fact that a Cohan LOTTA FAUST. show succeeds despite this incongruous element and not because of it. He has a real gift for producing catchy songs, creat licious since the days of “Fritz" Emmett. ing mirth-provoking situations, and arranging “The Hurdy Gurdy Girl” is, in a way, an them so that his show goes with a rush. imitation of another Cohan show, “Little "Lola from Berlin,” which John J. Mc- Johnny Jones.” It goes in strongly for melo- Nally wrote for Lulu Glaser, suggests the drama and “heart interest,” neither of which Cohan success, “Forty-five Minutes from carries. It is not altogether lacking in fun: Broadway.” There is a valiant attempt at a there are some lively songs and a great deal plot, but it is in many details absurd without of chorus-girl activity. Richard Carle is being amusing. chiefly responsible for it, and his rather lim- Miss Glaser deserves a far better ited type of humor seems to have missed comedy and one hopes that some day fire. John W. Ransome did his best in a she will secure a vehicle familiar German dialect part, but the ap- as fine as her German plause was mostly for Annie Yeamans, who dialect, for there has been is soon to retire after something like half a no broken speech so de- century of stage life. y " 322 STUGRS NTT BY SARAH N NU CLEGHORN EARE little Jane is Tall for Seven; Her Legs are Long, her Arms are Thin; She runns about from morn to even, Runns & plays, out Doors & in. DVD Her hair is Black, her eyes are Gray, High is her Forehead, short her Chin. No Blowzy Red Cheeks take away The Lady Whiteness of her skin. In Church how still, how like a Mouse! In School how quick, yett Modest too- How nimbly sewing in the house! How faire Abroad in Bonnet blue! One only Fault in her wee find (& that must Chease & Butter cure), She runns & plays soe like the Wind, It keeps her Spindling, Thin & Poore. TUNT - MAGINEL WRIGHT ENRIGHT 832 832b Everybody's Magazine were the final result of the movement sketched. This was a natural and inevitable consequence from the lack of a proper system of currency. Its destructive force has been immensely aggra- vated, by the wholesale, undiscriminating denun- ciation of sensational writers and the wild words of some whose duty it was to conserve instead of to destroy. Indiscreet Denunciation and Laws By W. G. SUMNER Professor of Political and Social Science at Yale University. in gunpowder or fed to soldiers during a bloody campaiga. It has been further evident to thinking persons that the pressure for the use of capital has out- measured the supply of capital. It is much eas- ier and quicker to plan schemes, pass resolutions in directors' meetings, print and offer bonds and stocks for sale, than it is to gather the capital to exchange for them, no matter how meritorious an enterprise may be. That we lately reached a period when the deadlock between capital and the de- mand for it was manifest is shown by the higher terms of interest offered by conservative enter- prises. In fact, long-time bonds could find no buyers during the past year. Syndicates privately formed, which had taken blocks of securities in the expectation of selling them to the investing public, found that there was no public that would or could buy. In the exigency thus revealed, the great borrowing enterprises, finding it impossible to negotiate long-time bonds, resorted to the de- vice of issuing short-time notes running for one, two, and three years, at the most tempting rates of interest. Under these unusual inducements, the controllers of capital represented by money and credits in bank, who would have considered it imprudent to invest funds in long-time bonds, felt justified in taking over hundreds of millions of dollars of short-time securities, and thus the delicacy of the situation was greatly aggravated. This was about the situation in the early fall, when the annual harvest put in its inex- orable demand for the temporary use of capital, or its representative money, to pay the incidental expenses of its gathering. It is a known fact that the thousands of banks standing next in proxim- ity to the agriculturist, and relied upon by him to supply his needs, keep a large portion of their funds on deposit in reserve cities. Upon these reserve centers, then, the country banks from Louisiana to Minnesota made their usual ari- tumnal requisitions. The situation thus created found the banks in reserve cities, for the general reasons above considered, especially weak in their money reserves. With a proper system of cur- rency in the United States, this strain from the country would have been met by bank credits issued in the form of circulating notes, fully quali- fied and entirely adequate to meet the temporary requirements of the crop period. But in the ab- sence of any such system, these requisitions from the interior upon New York banks had to be met out of the already scant supply of their legal money reserves. The withdrawal of these reserves op- erated upon the great superstructure of bank credit like the removal of foundation-stones from under some great building. To restore equilib- rium, the banks in reserve centers were obliged to turn upon their borrowers and force payment from their debtors with little regard to the incon- venience or the loss incidental to liquidation by the debtor class. All the phenomena of shock-a hor- rible fall in the price of securities--fright and panic, Is it true that a period of prosperity tends to a crisis, which must therefore be accepted as fairly to be expected? The answer to this question is, No. There is no reason to expect calamity in the train of consequences of pros- perity. In a country situated industrially as the United States is, prosperity means expansion, and that means constant new demands for capital. Demands for capital soon cause operations of credit, and these may run to a crisis. If there are mistakes or abuses of credit, the crisis is more certain and it comes quicker. Has there been any abuse of credit in our recent industrial history? It is possible that evidence of such abuse may appear later, but we have no such evidence yet. The failures have been very few, and very rarely have they been great. The “speculators” have been chiefly wanting. Only two or three have attracted attention. We have had eight or ten years of very great expansion of industry, and it might reasonably be expected that an important number of persons would have made mistakes, and must fail when the money market became stringent. We should then know that an im- portant amount of capital has been lost, and a crisis would be produced in which there would be no mystery. It would be an old and familiar phenomenon. This is not what has happened. Something of that kind has been presented, but it has been limited in amount, as far as the public yet knows, and does not account for the trouble. There has been one great and important inter- ference with industrial activity and prosperity. It may best be called ethical. Some people of influence have become convinced that great capitalists and captains of industry are in the habit of making operations which are wrong in morals and harmful to private investors and to other individuals whose interests are modest and not easily defended. It is true that there have been cases of such operations. They have caused fright and have given rise to a popular belief that great operators control the affairs of great corpo- rations in such a way that small investors incur risks if they become stockholders in the same corporations. Legislators have also tried to in- What Caused the Panic 832c tervene in the struggle of interests on behalf of one party and against the other. The rates of freight and passage on railroads have been fixed by legislation, as the freighters and passengers would like to have them, without knowledge of the cost of the service to the carrier, or ap parent care about that. Other laws have de- fined other duties of carriers in such a way as to make them heavier and more costly. These acts have alarmed the stockholders in the railroads. The President of the United States has made himself the foremost in denouncing capitalists and masters of industry as corrupt and dis- honorable managers of the interests under their control. He has declared that he means to use all his legal powers to the utmost to punish the wrongdoers. As a consequence of the laws men- tioned and the executive will which has been ex- pressed,, it has been a fact that for two years past new attempts to raise capital by any of the most approyed and usual methods have met with difficulty and unwilling response, due to timidity. The ethical and political interferences would not have been very important if the situation had not been critical. There is an increased production of gold, and an advance in prices, the effects of which cannot be ignored. Wages have advanced very seriously, and the demands of laborers have been increased. These changes affect the profits of industry and the outlook of new enterprises. They increase the timidity of petty investors and they present problems which are real. Now, while the misconduct of powerful masters of industry is not to be excused or made light of, they have not appeared to deserve the attention which has been given to them. The laws which aim to put a stop to such misconduct in obedience to some ethical ideas will only produce far worse evils by throwing the entire financial system into confusion. The fears of the petty investors will cause new acts of folly on the part of the crowd, with wide-reaching results. Respect for law will be overthrown by the weight put upon it. What we have seen is but the beginning of what is to be expected-confusion and wrangling, with stagnation of industry, suppression of enterprise, and a loss of the great and joyous energy which has hitherto characterized our people. think I can better comply with EVERYBODY'S request for an analysis of the causes of the money stringency of this fall and winter, than by sending to you a copy of a letter written by me to the editor of a financial journal almost a year ago, for pub- lication in his annual symposium of opinions as to the outlook. It was written at a time of great buoyancy of the market; Wall Street was highly optimistic; since then we have had three “ pan- ics": the market collapse of March, the “silent panic” of August, and the present period of wreck and depression involving banks and other fiduciary institutions. This letter seems to me ample proof that the present crisis was easily dis- cernible to myself and others at least ten months before it came; and I have no change to make now in my apportionment of the causes respon- sible for it: DECEMBER 27, 1906. Dear Sir: Replying to your question, “Are we approaching a Great Industrial and Political ay: In point of time a great industrial crisi and there are many indications of its being im- minent. Despite the unprecedented output of gold, money is dear the world over, and dear because of high prices and activity in trade. Nor are other causes for dear money wanting. Great Britain has not fully made up its losses in the Boer War; Japan and Russia, particularly the latter, have scarcely begun to recover from the effects of their recent war. Indeed it would look as if Russia had not fully financed the cost thereof, and may be on the verge of civil war. Within the past year there have been tremendous losses of capital in the destruc- tion of San Francisco, and in the less awful calamity at Valparaiso, and at its close we have famine in China. Looked at the world over, the volume of the crops of 1906 was not above an average, despite the phenomenal yield in the United States. Prices of commodities are above the normal and rising. Labor all over the world is dearer than ever before; and the tendency is toward higher wages and shorter hours; conditions which are economically wasteful as regards product, what- ever their effect may be on the laboring class. Turning now to our own country, New York, especially that part of it known as “Wall Street," has absorbed, and is absorbing, more than its share of the loanable fund. While our Western and Southern banks-indeed all banks which are “out of town” to New York—are lending more freely than usual at this season, that which they lend' is instantly and persistently absorbed by Wall Street. The New York Stock Exchange has ceased to be a free market, where buyers and sellers fix prices through the ebb and flow of demand and supply, and has become the plaything of a few managers of cliques and pools to such an extent that for months past every announcement of increased dividends, of stock distributions, and of rights, has been met by a fall in prices. The investing public is and remains out of the market, not because of ventures in industrials, in electric railways, or in suburban real estate—the specula- tion in each of which was checked months ago-- Distrust of Wall Street Methods By STUYVESANT FISH Ex-President of the Minois Central Railway. · THE strain which the financial institutions and the great corporations of this country are un- dergoing at this writing is not the result of sud- denly formed or suddenly precipitated conditions. It is the breaking of a storm which has been vis- ibly rising for many, many months. I do not What Caused the Panic 832e and countries that do not do business largely on a credit and margin or equity basis, do not have financial panics. The causes of this, as of all other similar crises, are economic and fundamental; they are not at all psychological and hysterical, unless the almost common desire to speculate when prices are rising may be termed psychological Economic conditions were ripe for a panic in 1907. Numerous professors and other financial students forecast, even before last March, “The Irrepressible Crisis," as Secretary W. H. Lough, Jr., of the New York University School of Commerce, wrote of it in a financial magazine. Some of our greatest financiers began in 1906 to curtail credits, to stop unnecessary improvements, and, in other ways, to trim sail and prepare for the coming storm: They saw, all over the world, credit expanded to the danger point; they saw a tremendous expansion of loans and discounts, not only actually but as regards deposits; they saw demand deposits increasing rapidly and cash reserves becoming inadequate; they saw liquid capital being changed to fixed capital, at an unprecedented rate.' · A rapid and long-continued rise in prices, such as we have had since 1897, always results in speculation and inflation. The cause of the present great rise in prices is the rapidly increas- ing output and supply of gold. This has caused its exchange value to depreciate. This depre- ciation is also largely responsible for the very high interest rates of to-day, which, in turn, are responsible for the present world-wide decline in the prices of bonds and other securities. · Present financial and industrial conditions, as to gold, prices, interest rates, business and credit, closely parallel those of 1857. If our banking conditions were not very much better than were those of 1857, we might now expect to see dupli- cated the avalanche of failures of banks and commercial houses which then laid business pros- trate. The greater soundness and stability of our present banking institutions, together with better management and concert of action, have probably averted for us a panic which would have been as much greater than previous panics as our business expansion is greater than that of any previous period. As happened in 1857, we may expect to see a sudden and sharp business depression follow in the wake of our financial crisis. We may be well through this depression in six months. It can hardly last more than a year, with gold depreci- ating in value and with prices tending strongly upward. Liquidation in commodities, real es- tate, and labor is not likely to go nearly so far as it has gone in bonds and stocks. Not only will a shortage in the world's food supply prevent a heavy decline in the prices of foodstuffs, but the flood of gold from our mines—amounting to more than $1,000,000 a day-tends to check any fall that may occur in the prices of real property. But few persons realize the very great sig- nificance of this outpour of gold. In 1887 the world's annual output of gold was $105,774,900. In 1897 it was $236,075,700. In 1907 it will be about $430,000,000. The output is increasing rapidly because the cost of producing gold is de- clining more rapidly than is the cost of producing most other commodities. The cost of producing a thing fixes, or tends to fix, its exchange value with other things. As gold is the universal standard of value, and the prices of all other commodities are quoted in gold, we have no way of judging the changing values of gold except by the quoted prices of other commodities; that is, by the change in the level of average prices. As the price level has been rising rapidly for ten years, we know that the value of gold is depreci- ating equally rapidly. The effects of the declining value of gold are far-reaching. They are revolutionary in the financial, industrial, economic, political, and social worlds. Not only are they seen in the rising prices of all tangible property, in high interest rates, in higher nominal but lower actual wages, and in lower prices of all securities bearing fixed rates of income, but they are upsetting all cal- culations in savings and insurance, based upon averages. Because of these effects debts are shrinking, to the benefit of debtors and the injury of creditors, and many new problems are pre- sented to investors, employers of labor, poli- ticians, and legislators. Average prices will probably not decline more than ten or twelve per cent. A decline of more than fifteen per cent. is necessary to cause a wide- . spread failure of banks, mercantile houses, man- ufacturers, and real-estate interests. Inside of two years the cost of living, measured by gold, will almost certainly be higher than now and will be rising rapidly. In view of all the facts, it is absurd to credit the present panic to President Roosevelt, to anti- corporation legislature, to “muck-raking," or to socialistic agitation. It would, perhaps, be more reasonable to suppose that, together with the ex- posures in insurance and other industries, these factors, by causing distrust, in 1906, checked speculation and inflation and thus prevented an even greater collapse and panic than would other: wise have occurred. The sooner corruption is uncovered and crime exposed, the safer are our institutions and the less danger there is of panic and disaster. Even "muck-raking,” by prevent- ing present bad management from becoming worse, may do more good than harm. Two contributing causes of the present crisis are found in our inelastic currency system and our uncivilized tariff laws. Nearly two years ago Mr. Jacob H. Schiff de- clared that if we did not reform our "hodge- podge, clumsy currency system” we should have one of the worst panics we had ever seen. Such a currency famine as we are now having is im- 832f Everybody's Magazine possible in Canada, Scotland, or any other coun- is the token of value which all the people recog- try with an asset currency. We can save our: nize and which passes current among them. selves now only by devising clearing-house certifi- This is because it is created by all the people, cates and other forms of asset currency which we and cannot be created by any individual or will use, some illegally, until confidence is re- section of the people. The values of all the other stored. sections are created by individuals. • Our excessive tariff duties on imports are Well and good. Now suppose that at a probably largely responsible for the fact that say thirty years ago, a given amount of wealth was average prices have risen about fifty-five per cent. held by the American people, say $60,000,000,000, in this country, since 1897, against a rise in Eng- and that it consisted of thirty-nine sections of land of about thirty-five per cent. This greater $1,500,000,000 each, which could be passed rise has induced greater speculation, has put a from man to man only through some form of greater strain on our capital, and has caused in- paper title, and one section of $1,500,000,000, terest rates to go higher here than in any other money, which could be passed among all the country. A sound and elastic currency and a people at face value. That with this money a reasonable tariff system would most certainly system of credit was established which enabled have mitigated, if they would not have prevented, every one to transact all necessary “trading”; our present financial crisis. that A, owning $1,000 of land, and B, owning This highly enlightened country should be as $1,000 of railroad stock, wished to make ex- well prepared to weather a financial storm as is change. That A sold his land to C, the broker, Canada or England or Germany. and C, to pay for it, borrowed from E, the bank, the $1,000. That A then paid the $1,000 to B for his railroad stock, and B paid the $1,000 over to C, the broker, for the land, and C, the broker, returned the $1,000 to the bank. When the Fictitious Wealth transaction was completed, all the rules and safe- guards of the people had been complied with. By THOMAS W LAWSON Theorists who are prescribing for the im- Author of "Fronzied Finance." mediate break down would have you believe that the money which entered into these transactions WHAT I showed to Joseph Pulitzer in was the foundation factor therein. This is not London in 1894, what I began showing the so. The confidence of all parties to the trans- people in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE ten years actions in the legitimate value of not only the later, in 1904, has at last materialized. The money, but the land, the stock, and the bank is System, having worked its trick machinery to its the foundation factor. limit, has brought the entire business structure of If confidence in any one of the sections fails, the people to the edge of the abyss. then that section is blacklisted, provided it What can be done? There can be but one can be identified and the damage remedied by permanent cure for present diseased conditions treating it separately from the other sections. ---amputation of the gangrened parts. The But if the rotten section cannot be segregated System's wise men say: "No, we will treat the from the other sections, all holders of “wealth". crisis as we have treated like crises in the past, tokens, other than the money form, doubt the by salving and painting the surface sores until legitimacy of the value of all their paper titles and they no longer show, until the people, seeing them rush to exchange them for the one thing of whose no longer, believe the patient well.” value they are sure-money. The whole struc- Let us diagnose the situation from its elements. ture tumbles, because there is not, and cannot be, There is to-day in America, roughly speaking, money enough in existence to enable all the people $120,000,000,000 of “wealth." to get money for the form of “wealth” in which For clearness' sake, I will divide this "wealth” they have lost confidence. into thirty-nine sections of $3,000,000,000 each: Right here I would call to the attention of Land, raw material, machinery, finished material, President Roosevelt and those eminent bankers railroads, steamships, business buildings, ho“ , and financial experts who are urging him to pass farms, etc., etc.; and one section of $3,000,000,000 new money laws, this basic fact, that in no such of money. measures can a real remedy for the present evil be This money section is the vital element by which found. all “trading" in the other sections is done. It is The total of the money of the American people the blood, and therefore the basis of the necessary may be doubled, and in a given time, if present structure of credit, by which all the people, owning underlying conditions continue to exist, it will the $120,000,000,000 of “wealth," can carry on have to be doubled again and again without end. their “business." To hark back. Suppose that, thirty years ago, This money section is a fixed and understood the value of each of the forty sections of American factor. It is also the measure by which the “wealth” was legitimate-that is, that the value value of all the other sections is arrived at. It of each section had come into existence through Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 832g compliance with the rules and regulations for the control of the people's money, and that each sec- tion had continued to grow legitimately, until to-day they were doubled. Then if the people, becoming panic-stricken, insisted on calling for real money, the measures of relief fathered by Mr. Morgan and his associates might represent permanent relief, because they might restore con- fidence in the real value of each of the thirty-nine sections. But, during the past thirty years, a few men, the “System," have invented and worked a trick, by which there have been manu. factured billions of paper tokens of "wealth," which in fact is not "wealth," and these paper . tokens have been passing in and out among the people as the exact equivalent of real money. Because of this manufacture there exist billions of this fictitious.“wealth” which so counterfeits real.“ wealth as to make it impossible for people to distinguish it from the “wealth” represented in the other sections. This being so, there is but one possible way to restore the confidence of the people in the combined wealth represented by their paper titles, and that way is, first to expose , and then to-eliminate the fraud-made “wealth,” the "wealth” which is really not "wealth.” I assert, and without fear of successful con- tradiction: wil First. That the trouble of to-day was generated by a few men, arbitrarily creating and putting into circulation billions of fictitious "wealth.” Second, That when this “wealth” was put into circulation it was made to appear the equivalent of the money of the people. Third. That because it was so made to ap- pear, its makers were able to place it in banks and trust companies in place of billions of the people's money deposits, which the men who created this fraud "wealth” took over to them- selves. Fourth. That the climax—the crash line-was reached because the people, having been shown how this could be done and had been done, de- manded, and are demanding, and will continue to demand, real money for the real money deposited by them. Fifth. That it is not possible to cure the present evil until there has been thrown out of banks and trust companies this fraud “wealth," and until the loss which has already been made is exposed and assumed by whomever it legally falls upon. Sixth. That any attempted government relief along the lines of additional money will only make the loss greater, and when final exposure comes, as come it must, the destruction will be more terrible. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen? By CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL Author of "Soldiers of the Common Good." EDITOR'S NOTE.-In Wall Street they call the recent crash of their card structure the “Roosevelt panic." All the rich malefactors, their newspaper allies, and some others, are say- ing that the President has unsettled the confidence of the people in the nation's banks and trust companies; that he is responsible for the tremendous fall in the values of securities and the rush of depositors for their money. What has the President done? He has enforced anti-trust and anti-rebate laws, and attempted to curb corporate abuses by publicity. He has dared interfere with “The System.” “The System" retaliates by accusing him of injuring the country. But what about the Metropolitan Traction scandal, the Alton deal, the life-insurance exposures ? Every intelligent man knows that the trouble is world-wide, and that so far as the United States is concerned, the greatest contributing cause is the monstrous overcapitalization of our in- dustries. There could be no more glaring example of the abuses that the President has pointed out than the American Tobacco Company, the story of which follows. CHAPTER X ABILITY, energy, foresight! Upon this A blessed trinity we believe to rest the beautiful palaces, the spacious pleasures, the vast and swelling fortunes of the 10,000; from this origin comes the golden tide on which so gloriously they sail. Ability, energy, fore- sight! Precious qualities, for the lack whereof the 1,500,000 flat-dwellers and the 2,000,000 832h Everybody's Magazine below them must be condemned forever and and mortgaged, of all the firms (if you will irretrievably to their respective stations. believe me) amounted to less than $400,000, So we are accustomed to think. Perhaps and none of them being financially prosper- we shall understand more clearly the dif ous, there was, strictly speaking, little to base ference between flat-dweller and palace- solid securities upon. The remaining $23,- builder if we consider impartially the history 000,000 of stock was distributed among the of a very successful and in some ways a firms. As an illustration of the ability, energy, typical instance of the centralizing of cap and foresight that characterized these proceed- ital, the American Tobacco Trust. ings, I may mention that the apportionment of stock was effected by the gentlemen pres- ent writing figures on slips of paper that were THE HAT IN HIGH FINANCE deposited in a hat, shaken, and drawn out; This institution dates back to 1890, and and, lest it be doubted that such a perform- really owes its existence to the growth of ance be possible in high finance, I add that it the cigarette habit that infected this coun- has been solemnly sworn to by men that took try after the Centennial Exposition of 1876, part in it. when the cigarette was obligingly exhibited . Upon the slips being drawn from the nat, to us by some of our admired foreign vis- the Duke firm and Allen & Ginter received itors. By 1885 many houses were engaged the largest allotments, the Kinney Company in supplying the rapidly growing demand. less, and the remaining concerns secured These houses competed-and, in the end, only $2,499,000 each. extravagantly, so that none of them could The firms then put part of their holdings make money. Five of the leading cigar- on the market—which they could easily do ette-making firms, to wit: W. Duke, Sons without impairing their control of the enter- & Co., of Durham, N. C.; Allen & Ginter, prise. They found that the public could be of Richmond; Goodwin & Co., and the induced to buy the stock at 117. In a day, Kinney Tobacco Company, of New York; therefore, without effort, without investment, W. S. Kimball & Co., of Rochester, N. Y., without expenditure or risk, they had been and Oxford, N. C., met in New York in presented with millions and had still their January, 1890, to consider ways of limiting business exactly as before, only better, be- competition. With no intention to speak cause now competition among them was unfairly or disparagingly, I suppose it was eliminated. as commonplace a lot of men as ever got From the first the new Trust was blessed together. Some of them had been in business with a singular and certain instrument of a very long time and had nothing to show prosperity that lay in a fixed habit of the but mortgages and harassing debts, and at American cigarette smoker. No cigarette least one of them was hard upon the shoal consumer ever went into a shop and asked of practical bankruptcy. merely for a package of cigarettes, but in- But they met and stumbled upon a plan of variably he demanded a certain brand. As organization, modeled baldly upon a hundred a rule he would not be content with anything other such combinations then and now but this brand; hence every dealer was com- in existence. This American Tobacco Com- pelled to maintain stocks of all the brands pany was launched (congenially) in New most called for. Jersey, where it put to sea January 31, 1890. Capital, $25,000,000; assets, chiefly A TREASURE-MAKING HABIT speculative and paper; investment, nothing, -literally nothing, for the men that formed This one little fact made treasures for the the company did not contribute one cent American Tobacco Trust and would have of money to it. They put in their respec- made them if the managers of the Trust had tive and unprofitable businesses, but these, been wholly incompetent. The Trust con- while important to the total cigarette product trolled the supplies of many of the most popu- of the country, were trifling compared with lar brands, “Sweet Caporal,” “Old Judge,” the total tobacco manufacture. Of the cap- “Richmond Straight Cut," and the like. ital stock, $2,000,000 was set aside for what Dealers must have these or cease from were called the “live assets” of the five com- business. Here was a power incalculable. bining firms. Nobody ever knew what “live The Trust was engaged in suppressing assets" meant; for the total real estate, free its competitors. Any dealer that would Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 832k that one source of profit had been over- The first moves by the Union Tobacco looked, and thereafter the tobacco producer Company were very disconcerting. It began began to feel a steady contraction of his by operating on a bold and big scale the in- market and a decline of the prices that he stitution known as the subsidiary company, obtained. and showed the Duke party how much had been overlooked concerning that device. CHAPTER XI The exact method by which the subsidiary company device is worked I can show best by THE SYNDICATE COMES IN relating a particular instance. One of the firms that had remained outside of the Trust MEANTIME, Mr. Ryan and his friends had and continued to fight it was W. T. Blackwell noted well the progress of the Tobacco & Co., of Durham, N. C., makers of smok- Trust, and at the beginning of 1899 they seem ing-tobacco. The Ryan-Widener-Root syn- to have thought that the time had come for dicate bought out W'. T. Blackwell & Co. them to participate in this good thing. Ac- for $2,300,000. They then formed the Black- cordingly, they organized the Union Tobacco well Tobacco Company as a subsidiary con- Company of New Jersey. Old friends of ours cern of the Union Tobacco Company and appear in the list of incorporators-Thomas capitalized it at $9,000,000. They then sold F. Ryan, P. A. B. Widener, W. L. Elkins, to the public at par $6,800,000 of this stock, Thomas Dolan, and R. A. C. Smith, and with retaining the rest for their own purposes. The gratification we may observe that the new net result of this transaction was that they enterprise had the sage advice and directing had secured a profit of $4,500,000 in cash counsel of Elihu Root, now Secretary of State and yet had $2,200,000 in stock. of this nation, then confidential adviser of Why should any man be poor? Thomas F. Ryan. The capital stock of the Union Tobacco THE TRUST STRIKES COLORS Company was $10,000,000, of which, kindly note, only $1,350,000 was ever paid for. The T hese operations caused additional misery news of its forming occasioned many painful to Captain Duke and his friends. In making moments on board Captain Duke's ship. of something out of nothing they had been The navigators there easily foresaw trouble. enormously successful, and yet, it must be Mr. Ryan and his friends quickly found the admitted, in a crude and blundering way. talent necessary to embark on a large scale Opposed to them were men that had been all in the cigarette and tobacco business. Among their lives engaged in making something from the experienced men that they secured was nothing and had shown in the process both William H. Butler, who had been vice-presi- finesse and industry. From the Duke ship the dent of the American Tobacco Company and outlook seemed stormy indeed. Meanwhile the originator of the "Sweet Caporal”cigarette. the Ryan-Root syndicate proclaimed that it It was evident, therefore, that the Union To- purposed to press resolutely ahead and to com- bacco Company was equipped for formidable pete vigorously in every department of the rivalry. Besides, the making and selling of tobacco trade. With hand upon heart, so tobacco was only a part of the business of to speak, it declared to the public that its the American Tobacco Company. Manu- one dear object was to combat monopoly. facturing was a good cover to the issuing and Before the agonized gaze of the retail trader, manipulating of securities from which the groaning and sweating under the screws of bulk of the great profits were derived, and the Trust, the coming of the new company the men in the Duke party knew very well was a joy unspeakable. To the persecuted that in the issuing and manipulating of se- consumer, who for some years had been no- curities the Ryan-Widener-Elkins-Root syn- ticing a decline in the quality of his tobacco, dicate had no equals in this world; also that there showed at last a promise of relief and to such experts $10,000,000 of capital was as fair treatment. To break the monopoly- good a foundation as $100,000,000. A still that was the thing. Mr. Ryan, Mr. Widener, greater danger lay in the proved and un- and Mr. Root (whose sympathies against equaled power of the Ryan party to influence monopoly in all its forms can be readily un- legislation and manipulate government-a derstood) bent themselves assiduously to matter of the first importance to the Trust's this congenial task. And this is how they welfare. did it. For six months or less the gentlemen Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 832m tax to the peace basis. It also determined to simplest operation of the smallest country make in the revenue laws certain changes that store. would be greatly to the benefit of the Trust N or have we, by any means, seen the last and to the disadvantage of the Trust's com- of this easy fortune-making. In June, 1901, petitors. These were changes (difficult to the gentlemen in control, under the pre- make clear in this limited space) in the re- tense of extending to foreign and less favored strictions governing the sizes of packages, lands the blessings of the trust principle, changes that had the effect of enabling the formed a new concern, the Consolidated To- Trust to undersell makers of brands then on bacco Company, and of course out came a the market by offering larger packages for new flood of water. The capital stock of the the same price. Consolidated Tobacco Company was $40,- Knowledge of these impending changes was 000,000, and it issued $157,378,200 of four kept a profound secret-except from the men per cent. bonds, making its total capital- that controlled the Trust. ization nearly $200,000,000. With these Immediately these men went into the market fresh tokens of something from nothing it took and bought all the Continental stock they over the American and the Continental, giving could find. When they began to buy it was $100 in four per cent. bonds for every $50 of quoted at 12 and was inert. Unluckily, the American and $100 in four per cent. bonds for time was short and they had no chance to every $100 of Continental. The public toler- work the device by which a man buys while ance being not yet exhausted, the same old he pretends to sell and thus keeps the price game was worked again on these issues, and from rising. The gentlemen were compelled, again the insiders, having knowledge of what for once, to buy outright, and after a time the was toward, picked up Continental stock stock began to feel the effects. The price rose in advance and added further millions to to 17, 18, 20, 22,—but not before, at bottom their vast hoards. prices, the gentlemen had secured vast loads How the Trust now sailed for British of it. waters, how Captain Duke made a sad mess of his voyage, how the ship was rescued from an attacking party of Englishmen that A GREAT SOMETHING FOR NOTHING threatened to sink her, and how she now sails They then prepared a new issue of Con unmolested and taking toll on those busy seas tinent.' Tobacco Company bonds bearing are things not unfamiliar and not part of my five p .ent. interest. These bonds, they ar- story. What I desire to point out is that the ranged, should be exchangeable for Continen- Consolidated Tobacco Company is by no tal stock. means the last illustration of high finance that When all this was ready, out came ihe news these records afford. If I may be believed from Washington that the revenue duties by the uninitiated, the device that had been were to be reduced, and up bounded the worked so often to the injury of the public prices of all tobacco stocks. and the ruin of the retailer was employed But the gentlemen that managed the Trust again. On September 9, 1904, there appeared had secured theirs beforehand, and they now a new American Tobacco Company, which, proceeded to exchange the stock they had se- with another flood of water, took over the cured at 12 and thereabouts for bonds at 70, - Consolidated, the Continental, the old Amer- an operation in which they cleared about ican, and all the rest of the outfit, and again $15,000,000. multiplied the capitalization on which the Meantime, the capital stock of the Ameri- country must furnish the profits. can Tobacco Company, which had been $25,- 000,ooo in 1890, was nominally $68,500,000 in WHO PAYS THE INTEREST? 1900 and with the subsidiary and other com- panies amounted to $200,000,000 and more. For instance, the new company retired the With every desire to be temperate and $157,378,000 of the Consolidated Company's fair, I am obliged to say that, so far as I can four per cent. bonds by giving one-half six per discover, the creating of this colossal some- cent. preferred stock in the new company and thing from nothing had involved no risk, no one-half four per cent. bonds. Six per cent. effort, little or no investment, no development bonds were given for old American Tobacco of any industry, no economic equivalent, and preferred stock at the rate of 133} a share, and no higher type of mentality than controls the for Continental preferred at 1165. Besides all 832n Everybody's Magazine MAKING MACHINE these securities the new company had $100,- CHAPTER XII 000,000 of common stock of its own, and in the year of grace 1906, on this stock thus THE TRUE DIMENSIONS OF A GREAT MONEY- made of nothing, it paid 22 per cent. in divi- dends. At the present time, the total capitalization I OFFER here for consideration two isolated of the whole enterprise, including the dummy, facts: subsidiary, fraudulent, decov, alias, stool- 1. At one o'clock on the morning of De- pigeon, and other companies is about $500,- cember 1, 1906, three hundred armed men rode 000,000, all created from $25,000,000 of into Princeton, Ky., seized the night-watch, speculative and paper assets put together by locked up the town's fire apparatus, and pro- Captain Duke and his friends in 1890.. ceeded to burn two tobacco warehouses As an indication of how the thing has grown, owned by the Tobacco Trust. While the I quote figures from the American Tobacco fires were under way the armed men were Company alone, showing nine years expan drawn up in lines of defense about them and sion: prevented any attempt to extinguish the Balance Sheet Liabilities flames. As soon as the warehouses were destroyed, the men released the watch and Dec. 31, 1897. Dec. 31, 1906. the fire apparatus and rode away. Three Preferred stock........ $11,935,000 $78,689,100 hundred thousand pounds of tobacco had Common stock........ 17,900,000 10,242,400 been burned. Scrip................. 3,762,340 .......... Six per cent. bonds...... .......... 55,208,350 The men engaged in this, outbreak of vio Four per cent. bonds.... .......... 61,052,100 lence were not bandits nor ruffians; they were Profit and loss surplus.. 7,447,849 30,353,888 peaceful farmers. They did not desire wan- All balance-sheet lia- bilities.............. 42,289,236 278,628,564 tonly to destroy property; they : had been 42,209,23° -1° goaded by extortions and fraud, against Balance-Sheet Assets which they had no protection, to revenge themselves in the only way in their power Real estate, etc......... $4,009, 143 Patents and good-will... 24,867,263 $123,331,600 upon the men that had oppressed them. Leaf tobacco and manu- 2. In April, 1907, Hermann Beck, a well- facturing goods...... 8,591,777 31,187,814 known retail tobacconist of Portland, Ore., Stock of foreign com- having lost his once flourishing business, panies.............. 1,264,655 21,495,085 Stock of other compa- committed suicide. He had lost his busi- nies........ ....... 70,451,549 ness because he had been driven out of it Cash................. 1,538,751 5,163,965 by the Tobacco Trust. 2,017,645 26,998,551 The first of these incidents illustrates what the Trust has done for the producer; the sec- So stands this colossal and astounding ond, what it has done for the retailer. The structure erected upon the good-natured tol- two being multiplied and extended indicate erance of the American people. The like where the money has come from that paid successful exploitation has never been known the dividends and interest on the watered in any land at any time. One of the men that American Tobacco securities. have drawn golden fortunes from it, a man The United Cigar Stores Company, a that in 1890 was penniless and harassed with branch of the Trust, has more than 500 retail debts, now counts more than $40,000,000, cigar stores in the country (183 of them in made without labor, without effort, with- New York City), and speaking roughly, each out investment, without risk, without the of these represents a former retailer that has vestige of any return to society been deprived of his business. The method On the increasing mass of stocks and bonds, by which he has been deprived of it is one of the issuing of which has occasioned this the few operations of the Trust that have man's fortune, there have been paid, and are been visible to the eyes of the layman. It now being paid, colossal sums in dividends is a process that most observant persons and interest charges. must have seen or known of—the little in- Where do these dividends and interest dependent dealer overpowered and crushed charges come from and who pays them? by the big Trust store next door-but few And now we reach the heart of the whole are aware, I suppose, of the tragedies that are matter. sometimes involved in the crushing. Some Bills receiv: ble. Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ? 8320 on which Liebman's store stood and bought the building. As soon as his term expired, the Trust put him into the street with his stock and fixtures, which he was obliged to put into storage until he could find quarters at No. 201 West 125th Street. Now he has to operate a barber's shop to make a living. This is a typical case; wherever the Trust has appeared it has achieved similar triumphs; its pathway to success and profits has been over ruined tradesmen. On a certain stretch of Broadway where ten years ago were thirty- six independent cigar stores are now but six; and the former proprietors of the other thirty are either salesmen for the trust, servitors, dependent for their bread upon whim, fancy, and caprice, subject to espionage and sus- picion, or they have sought other work, or they have died. And so the Trust has wrought everywhere. THE TRUST-SOLE BUYER OF TOBACCO of the crushed dealers have been old men, whose one source of livelihood lay in their little shops. Some have been Civil War vet- erans, some have been for many years in the one place and the one trade, some have been cripples and invalids. All have gone the one way when the Trust started to capture their business. Sometimes the Trust has re- sorted to extreme measures to pull them down. It has induced their landlords to raise their rent to unendurable figures; it has bought the property they rented; very often it has pushed them to ruin by giving tobacco away or selling at prices that made compe- tition impossible. A certain Broadway deals er that has for years bravely resisted the Trust has been fought from two cigar stores adjoining him. For one of these the rental is $20,000 a year, which is more than the year's total sales in that store. On the morn- ing that this particular place opened, the man it was designed to crush walked into it and saw behind the counter four salesmen that had formerly been independent cigar- dealers and had been driven out of business by the Trust. It was now using them to drive out others. Such as are young and active among the ruined tradesmen can usu- ally find (for a time) employment with the Trust, employment at small salaries and un- der humiliating conditions. The older men shift for themselves or go to the poorhouse. I do not know how many suicides like that of Hermann Beck have resulted from these operations. The remaining retailers say there have been very many. Certainly Beck's is not the only case. The whole his- tory of the development has been a story of cruel hardship. I will give one example, from many. A VICTIM OF MONOPOLY Joseph Liebman kept for many years a cigar store at No. 264 West 125th Street, New York City. Agents of the Trust came to him about four years ago and told him that he had better retire from that neighborhood, as the Trust was about to open a store there. Lieb- man declined to move. The agent said that he would be crushed as other small dealers had been crushed before him. He replied that he had a good trade and plenty of strong friends and was not afraid of competition. The Trust opened a store next door. Lieb- man did not budge. The Trust store began to give away cigars and tobacco. Liebman held on. Then the Trust leased the ground As for the producer, that is a still more melancholy story. From time immemorial tobacco leaf had been sold in the tobacco- raising regions at the free competition of buyers. There was never any quoted price for tobacco as there is for wheat or cotton, but the farmers brought their tobacco to market and the buvers were wont to bid for it. The Trust has changed all this, for now in a great part of the tobacco region there is but one buyer. The Trust makes the price what it pleases, and the farmer must accept this price or take his tobacco home again. Under the operation of this system, such tobacco as for years had brought in a free and open market six to eight cents a pound sells for three cents a pound or less. The land that had formerly produced $75 to $200 an acre now yields less than half of its former returns, and a distinguished Kentuckian has calculated that in his state, because of the operation of the Trust, the returns to the tobacco farmer are less than twenty cents a day for his labor. In four of the countries of Europe-France, Italy, Austria, and Spain-tobacco is a goy- ernment business, and these four governments buy in the United States every year about one million pounds of tobacco. The Trust ar- ranged with the buyers for these governments that they should have a certain fixed territory in the South in which they might buy without opposition, provided they should buy nothing outside of that territory. 832p Everybody's Magazine When this arrangement was made it de- by the Trust; you can hardly tell when you are stroyed the last chance of competition, and buying of the Trust and when you are not. gave over the producer bound to his despoiler. Great, glittering, brilliantly lighted stores, Against these conditions the farmers of the cleverly worded advertisements, specious South have protested to Congress, to the De- promises of low prices, attract and delude the partment of Commerce and Labor, and to consumer; it does not seem possible that bad the courts, for every step in the Trust's pro- goods can come from such imposing places. ceedings has been wholly illegal and specific With much cunning the Trust has brought ally prohibited. Yet the law has never been into the business the influence of women. enforced upon this Trust, nor has the gov- Imitating the trading-stamp device, it holds ernment until lately given it any greater forth bribes in the shape of coupons that heed than is involved in some feeble, per- are exchangeable for articles of household functory, and quickly abandoned inquiries. use, and thus it induces women to urge their husbands to buy at Trust stores. As the THE BUSINESS OF BRAND-KILLING Trust, by the use of inferior tobacco, by mak- ing large purchases, and by robbing the pro- Meantime, there is the consumer, of whom ducer, has an abnormal margin of profit, it nobody seems to think much. What does can of course well afford these bribes. it mean for him that competition has been eliminated, that the profits of the American FORTUNES FOR THE FEW Tobacco Company have been swollen to these colossal figures, that the owners of the Trust So that herein at last is displayed in the are becoming the richest men in the world? clearest colors the exact meaning and results This is what it means for him: of the Formula for Wealth-making when that The Trụst has secured the ownership of al- formula has done its perfect work. The bonds most every well-known brand of Havana, Key are issued, the stock is floated, the syndicate West, and domestic cigars, brands that have is enriched, the palace arises. And every been familiar for years upon years to all cent thus represented we furnish: we that smokers and that for years upon years have consume the tobacco, ship the freight, grow maintained an even degree of excellence. the crops, eat the beef, hang to the straps of Many good judges of tobacco claim that the Subway; we upon whose backs is piled under the names of these brands the Trust the whole vast mass of watered stocks, puts forth steadily a worse quality of goods, fictitious bonds, fraudulent scrip, gambling until at last the brand dies. Their theory is securities. And the only profit obtained by that before its death the Trust has sold great society in all these operations is the spectacle quantities of the brand, these goods have of five or six men accumulating vast fortunes, been produced at perhaps one-third of the fortunes beyond computation, fortunes for a original cost, and the profits have been enor- few comprising the sum of available wealth mous. that should be for all. So far has this work been carried that Such are the facts. Sorry and stained and some of the brands of cigarettes and smoking- wretched, in the light of them, looks this par- tobaccos formerly best known have disappear- ticular palace among the golden houses of the ed entirely from the market. Why should the fortunate. Built out of the enforced contri- Trust not do as it pleases in these matters? butions of the public, the steady violation of Every day the consumer finds greater diffi- the law, the sweat of the defrauded farmer, culty in discovering a cigar store outside of the the blood of the small dealer, what interest Trust; every day a greater proportion of has mankind in the mounting millions that it the retail business is seized by the Trust. represents? Or wherein have we gained from Many stores that pretend to be independent its existence, we whose unexampled patience and do not fly the Trust flag, are really owned renders all these things possible? " Where Did You Get It, Gentlemen ?” will be continued in the January number. 834 Everybody's Magazine With the easy though somewhat artificial “They don'know nothin' about it an' never walk of her sort, the girl nonchalantly ap- will.” She beamed upon the girl. “I've proached the piano, and, tossing over a pile hoid many a fine singer,” she said sweetly, of sheet music, carefully selected a song. “an' I tell you, Maggie, dear, you've got 'em Spreading it open upon the rack of the piano, all beat a block. They ain' no knowin' tuh she seated herself before the instrument and what heights you'll climb wit' that voice o' played the introduction through twice. Then yourn." she sang. “An' tuh think of her wastin' all these Doyle listened raptly and with mingled years behind a counter!” cried Mrs. Timothy emotions-admiration, disappointment, and Riordan indignantly. “It's a shame! That's hopelessness; and when, at length, she had what it is, all right, all right! A boinin' finished the three verses and the six choruses shame!” of the song, he rid his burdened breast of a “Yes, ain't it?” returned the girl's mother sigh that was long and loud and heartfelt. cheerfully. “Many's the time I told Mr. “Gee!” he exclaimed with awe. “Ain't Cassidy as we had a unknowed genius in our that great! Ain't that immense!” He fam’ly. "Patrick,' says I, ‘Patrick,' I says, sighed again, a sigh that was even longer, ‘our darter ain't none o' this common clay,'I louder, and more heartfelt than its predeces says. “She's destinated fer great things,' says sor. I." She turned to her husband. “Di'n' I, “When them big managers hears her," he Patrick?" she demanded. thought dolefully, “it'll be all up wit' me. Her husband opened one eye. “Ain't we I won't have no more chanct o' marryin' her got nothin' tuh drink in de house?” he asked. 'n a rich man would o' duckin' through a His wife gave him a glance of withering camel's eye. ... Gran'opera an’ nuttin' scorn. But he was witherproof. else f'r her-an' a lemon f'r me," and he “If we ain't,” he continued, “put a dime in sighed yet again. th' big pail an' send Robert Immitt over to Most of the others in the little audience Shaughnessy's. Maggie'll lend youse de were as appreciative as Doyle; and they gave money." And he closed his eye again. themselves over heartily to expressing their Mrs. Cassidy surveyed him in deep and admiration. utter disgust. "Ain't that singin' jes' grand?” inquired “That's him," she cried tragically, “allus Mrs. Malachi O'Grady, folding fat hands on thinkin' about his stummick! an' forgettin' a comfortable embon point. “Why, I di'n' that he has a progeny f'r a darter! 14" with know Maggie had it in her!” infinite self-restraint she held herself from tell- She stopped to scowl unutterable things at ing her husband for the hundredth time that her much whiskered spouse, who was mut- day what she thought of him, and, remember- tering something about being glad “it was out ing her duties as hostess, turned conversation- of her at last," and continued, “Why, she's ally to her guests. got them gran' operer singers skun a mile.' I “We got a gran' costume f'r Maggie,” she s'pose in a year or so we'll be goin' down tuh said. “It's a jet gownd, cut decolletay. We the operer house tuh hear Maggie sing an’then got it at one o' them stores where all them so- come home an' tell each other how we use’ tuh ciety women sends their clothes which they know her in them days when she di’n’amount don't never wear more 'n oncet an' then to nothin' an' her father use' tuh make her throws away. An' they're jes' as good as rush the can,” and she beamed about, happy new. We've made the skoit short-Maggie's in her prophetic fancies. goin' tuh dance, too, yuh know-an' it “She cer'nly is so’thin' won'erful,” com- cer'nly's a dream." mented Mrs. Delia Slattery enthusiastically. “When is she goin' tuh make her deebue?” "Ain't she, Mike?” and she turned for cor- inquired Mrs. Riordan. roboration to her worse half, who was sitting “She's goin' on at the next amachure night on the middle of his spine with an unlit cigar at the Pavilion,” replied the proud mother. between his lips. “The manager's give her a gran' place on the “I has hoid woise,” admitted her husband bill." grudgingly. “What's a amachure night?” queried old Mrs. Slattery scowled at him for an instant. Mrs. Conolly. “Men ain't got no appreciation for reel Mrs. Cassidy gazed at her in patient pity. music, anyhow," she commented caustically. “Amachure night,” she explained painstak- 838 Everybody's Magazine home of the gods, the rest of the house only with one swing of his arm he drove the or- too willingly broke into a roar of scornful chestra into a scared heap beside the piano. abuse and biting comment. And then high In another instant his foot was on the key- above all the tumult came the shrill cry so board, his heavy hand on the piano top, and dreaded of amateur-night performers: he had vaulted on to the stage. “Git th’ hook! Git th' hook!” The large stage-hand had just time to swing The hook, be it known, is a sort of shep- at him once with the hook when Doyle's fist herd's crook with which the unpopular en- struck on one ear and he tumultuously joined tertainer of amateur night is removed from the orchestra in a heap beside the piano. the stage. A second later Doyle had his arms about the Obedient to the demands of his insistent girl and she was sobbing bitterly, brokenly, clientèle, the management “got the hook," upon the shoulder of the hired dress suit. and a large, lumpy stage-hand, with a jaw like The audience, at the sudden turn of affairs, a cobblestone, came forth from the wings to had stopped its wild shriekings for the hook apply it to the helpless girl now beginning to and was watching with silent intentness the sob in weak hysteria. unexpected happenings taking place before it. Throughout it all Doyle had been sitting The way in which Doyle had handled the clutching the arms of his chair. That any stage-hand had won its admiration. The bit one could fail to admire Maggie was utterly of romance had won its sympathies. It was beyond his comprehension. That any one the psychological moment for the strategist to could speak unkindly to her or criticize her rise to unknown heights of public favor. But was unthinkable. And that an entire audi- Doyle was no strategist. He was a man, and ence could abuse and revile and torture one a lover. And he was mad—mad through and in whom he could see no flaw-one who was through. to him in every way the absolute perfection He turned to the audience. Holding the of womanhood-left him stupefied, bewil- girl to his breast with his left arm, he clenched dered, helpless. his right fist and shook it at the dusky mass of But when he saw the hook, his self-posses- indistinct faces across the footlights. sion returned to him, and that far more sud- “Dam' ver!” he cried from between denly than it had left him. The hook was as clenched teeth. “Dam’yer! Ye're a crowd a red rag to a bull; and, with a deep, choking o' cowards an' four-flushers! They ain't a bellow of rage, Doyle leaped from his chair. man among yer! Ye're all right tuh set there EX DANT THE CONFLICTING SENTIMENT IN THE HOUSE GREW FRENZIED. FUMING Little Stories of Real Life By Edwin L. Sabin The Return of Santa Claus “And daggers and sleds and " “An' Noahzarks?" From swords and daggers to Noah's arks is a long stretch, but remembering the scope of COME “kid,” your contemporary, but, ah, Santa Claus's magic pack, you may answer D grown so worldly-wise, said shrilly: assuredly: “Aw, there ain't no Santy Claus!” And “Yes, indeed; Noah's arks " after a few struggles Santa Claus, it seemed, “An' gum-drops an' lemon-sticks?" died. That was almost twenty years ago, “Yes, every kind of candy and every kind yet now here he is again, revivified! Done to of toy!” death (as it appeared) by youth, youth has “Isn't there a mamma Santy Claus?" resurrected him. Good old Santa, thus to Memory falters. A“mamma Santa Claus" bob up serenely, and to accept for his sponsor does not appeal as a part of your original even such a renegade as yourself! conception. However, in the light of your Without, grim-toothed, pitiless Winter be- own experience she does appeal as quite sets you hard, trying door and window, thrust necessary, and you rather owe it to Santa ing prowling fingers into every crack; within, Claus to assign him such happiness. the traditional evening lamp spreads its “Yes, there's a mamma Santa Claus." beams, and in the grate sturdily glows the The Littlest One sighs luxuriously. fire, holding Winter at bay. Clad in his “I wish I was their little boy." pink flannel pajamas, wide-eyed upon your The Gentle One, listening with amused knee, bids the Littlest One: smile as her needle leads a silken thread “Tell me 'bout Santy Claus.” hither and thither to weave some wondrous Upturning the sod of memory, you tell him. pattern, queries with sudden jealousy: “Santa Claus lives away off at the North “Aren't you glad you're our little boy?” Pole "—you congratulate yourself that the “Y-yes.” initial setting sounds strictly orthodox—“and The Littlest One wriggles, torn between all the year he is busy making toys and candy cupidity and filial love. and—-" “But you are Santa Claus's little boy, if “Swords?” you are good. All the good little boys in the The Littlest One is born to be an illustrious world are Santa Claus's little boys." general; martial is his disposition. The Littlest One takes time to ponder “Yes, swords and pistols- ” upon the remark. “An’ daggers ?” “Go on," he commands at last. 840 Little Stories of Real Life 843 11 “Well," she says. “Once upon a time, Very quiet it is, for a few minutes. All the ever and ever and ever so many years ago, world seems hushed while, safe from Winter, there was born a little boy just like you— " in the lamplight before the glowing fire, upon “Just like me?" repeats the Littlest One. somebody's lap the Littlest One drifts to “Yes, just like you. And he was born- slumberland. Rocking contentedly, the Gentle where do you think? Out in a stable, among One croons a lullaby: the cows!” “O little town of Bethlehem, “Didn't the cows bite him?” quavers the How still we see thee lie! Littlest One anxiously. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep "No, the cows didn't bite him. They The silent stars go by; loved him." Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light; “Was he Santy Claus's little boy?" The hopes and fears of all the years “N-no, he wasn't Santa Claus's little bov, Are met in thee to-night! but he was born on Christmas Day. And—4" “For Christ is born of Mary; “Were Chris'mus Day an' his birſday all And gathered all above, the same?" While mortals sleep, the angels keep Again cupidity is manifesting itself in the Their watch of wond'ring love. Littlest One. The disadvantage of having O morning stars! together Proclaim the holy birth— " Christmas and birthday come together is vaguely dawning upon him. The Littlest One's eyes are fast sealed; “There wasn't any Christmas, then. That the lids unclose not. The crooner looks was before Christmas. across at you, and sig- But he was such a good nificantly smiles. She little boy, and he grew rises. up such a good man In his pink flannel [by reason of the limita- pajamas the Littlest tions of her audience One, unconscious of the the Gentle One is nec- liberty being taken with essarily also limited in him, is borne to bed. expression, and we are so thankful that God The chubby stock- gave him to the world, ings are much chub- that we celebrate his bier, swelled by a birthday and we call it strange affliction of Christmas. What do lumps and knobs. A you think was his rocking-horse has mi- raculously appeared “Santy Claus.” upon the tiles, together A slight incoherence with a sled and a large is noticeable in the curly dog. The grate- Littlest One's articula- fire has faded to a dull tion — the response is crimson, and the Lit- mechanical and mur- tlest One would realize murous. that Santa Claus might "No, not Santa alight upon it without Claus. It was Jesus. danger. The last foot- AROUND ABOUT IS THE EXPI:CTANT, HOLY Don't you remember steps, homeward-bound that mamma has told from festivity, have you about Jesus, the friend of all little chil- passed; only old Winter's tread crackles, as dren because he was a little child himself ?” he maintains his round, ceaseless and futile. "Santy Claus. Come, Santy Claus." From the Littlest One's quarters emerges a The Littlest One is far gone, and 'tis quite liquid babbling; the Gentle One steals up, useless to wrestle with his evident worldliness and steals down again. The Gentle One adapts herself accordingly "Dreaming," she vouchsafes. -and at the same time adapts her lap. With a shy side glance, and a blush, she “Yes, darling,” she encourages. “Santa slips à package into your stocking. Claus is coming." “You mustn't look,” she admonishes. name?” STILLNESS OF CHRISTMAS EVE 844 Everybody's Magazine You slip something into hers. "The natural reaction from such an evening “And you mustn't, either,” you return. as we have had. We are a little jaded of Your arm encircles her waist, and thus nerves. Then, too, we have the stage setting united you stand, you and she, without speak- which recalls the supernatural-an old house, ing. Round about is the expectant, holy just opened after long vacancy, firelight, a stillness of Christmas Eve. But before the dying moon, and the hours before day.” His fireplace you are not waiting for Santa Claus; voice seemed softer than usual. no. He has come; already has he entered Presently young Powell, the Englishman, your hearts, at the call of the Littlest One. was speaking: “It is a singular thing about this house. At home, we'd scarcely call it old, you know. They say it was built only in 1836 or there- As to the Blind abouts. Yet it's ripened and colored with life like an old meerschaum.” By Will Irwin “The glory of our West,” I heard Judge Marvin say. “Not so old in years as your JUDGE MARVIN, with his reverence for English houses, but just as old in the human things ancient and historic, had bought march. I was born before San Francisco was the old Spanish Hacienda de Los Gatos, founded, yet San Francisco is three hundred long disused, and had made it over for his years old in spirit. So with this house. The country house. To the housewarming, he in- Spaniards built it, and it has seen a whole vited a company selected for their appreciation people die. Isn't it entitled to its ghost?" of his fancy_lovers all of the ways and tradi- I do not remember how long we were silent tions which Spain left to California. Later, after that. ... Judge Marvin said, he would have the young, “Perhaps this house has its ghost," said the careless, the people of to-day; but for Señora Ulistac from her seat beyond the fire- this festival of renewals he wanted those screen. We turned to her; she had not spo- whom years or art had softened into har- ken before. She was sitting forward on a mony with the crumbled adobe, the long couch, and out of direct light from the fire. jasmine vines, the worn sun-dial, and the Now and then, a spurt of flame would reveal stately ceilings of his hacienda. something of her little graceful head, her All day and nearly all night, we had dwelt coarse black hair, and the flower-like gentility with beauty and the past. Now it was very of her attitude. Never did it reveal her alto- late, and we had sat long before the great gether; the uncertain light merely touched stone fireplace, whose burning driftwood, our one feature after another, suggesting the rest. only light, pierced the far corners with strange, I remember how my artistic sense was grate- metallic shadows. A chill of dawn came in ful for that; it made a harmonious whole through the open windows; and a coyote, with her soft, plaintive voice. A wonderful beast of the devil, was howling out in the dis- woman, such as only Castile could make and tance. From old tales, the conversation had Angleland love enough; mature now, but also fallen off to silence; for minutes we had all forever virginal. sat and stared into the fire, each dreading lest H er voice held us all. I felt, too, a little some one should make that first move which thrill, a catch in my throat. The gaieties of might close an evening of such pleasant and Mrs. Collins on the subject of ghosts, the in- perfect communion. I remember that I was tellectual speculation of Judge Marvin, had in a half sleepy state; yet hardly was it the produced no such effect. Doubtless, the drowsiness which precedes normal sleep. It Señora was moved, I thought; and I specu- was as though weariness had dropped a slight lated idly on the strange power of emotion to veil over my five senses. produce emotion. Mrs. Collins, gay, talkative, fanciful, was A log shifted in the fire. The room became of course the first to break silence. bright, and afterward fell to a deeper black- “Why, how thoughtful and serious we've grown!” she said. “It is the time for ghost “Tell me,” pursued Señora Ulistac, "if a stories!” ghost should come among you now, would Judge Marvin, who needed only a touch you be frightened?” upon his conversational elbow to set him gen- Mrs. Collins, I noticed, huddled closer to eralizing in any direction, cleared his throat. the fire. ness. 848 Everybody's Magazine PURCHASE. the Boulevard des Capucines, and him he fol- mufflers. One was gray, and he rejected it lowed for several paces, pleading and praying scornfully. Not because it was too dear for in the Highest Name for some money. And him-oh, no! He told the proud assistant the opulent one stopped and fumbled in his so. He looked poor, perhaps, but-well, he pocket, while the beggar waited with a dog- wanted a gayer color. That purple one, for like air of expectancy. A small coin was instance. Three francs fifty? H'm, and that pressed into his palm-fifty yellow one? Two francs. centimes! thought the beggar, Yes, that would do. The and he called down blessings beggar coughed as if his according to value received. throat were shattering. Yes, The opulent one walked on, to-morrow he would buy a and the beggar moved toward neckcloth. Most certainly. a lamp that he might assure And after that? Now it himself of his money. Ten was necessary, he told him- sous wasn't a bad haul; that, self, to consider matters together with the five - sou thoroughly, and realize just piece that a lady had given what he could buy. He would him, and odd ten - centime go through everything in his pieces, made up a franc. mind. Of course he would Enough until to-morrow. have a drink or two. Some- He came under the lamp, thing warm and grateful. and looked at the coin. Sacré They sold excellent white ab- nom de Dieu! Was it his sinthe at Durot's in the Rue fancy? Was the light turn- Degas. Thirty centimes and ing the coin yellow? Was this as much sugar as you wanted. really a twenty-franc piece? Then that would give him an He looked closer. It was a appetite for déjeuner. The WONDERING WHAT HE SHOULD louis! There was the Na- Café des Cochers in the same poleon's head, and there was street served a good meal, he 20 FRANCS engraved on the scroll on the ob- believed. He had the pickings free some- verse side. It was a louis! Twenty francs! times, and very good pickings they were. More than twenty times as much money as Say one franc twenty-five. That would make he had in his pocket. More money than he a trifle over three francs fifty. After dinner a had ever held between his fingers. smoke. Why, he could afford good ca poral He wrapped the coin up in a dirty rag that tobacco at fifty centimes the packet, and the served as a pocket-handkerchief, and sham- best cigarette papers. Or why not buy a bled away. The sergents de ville, it seemed, pipe? Not a common clay, but a tolerably looked at him with suspicion. Suppose good briar for a franc. That would be they arrested him for loitering? They would quite enough extravagance for one day. He search him. They would find this twenty- thought he would spread the enjoyment of his franc piece on him, and they wouldn't believe riches over four or five days. him—who would ?-if he said that it was He fell asleep, and by the smile on his face given him in charity. Oh, they were a disbe- many a man or woman that night would lieving lot, those sergents de ville! He walked have paid twenty times his twenty francs for along, looking at no one, lest there should arise his dreams. in his eyes a suggestion of his great wealth. In the chill morning, when the street- He kept his hand on his pocket, clasped sweepers were yet at work, and the boule- tightly over the rag containing the louis, until vards were bleak and bare of people, he he came to a certain doorway, in a side street awoke. Some of the larger cafés still had near the Madeleine, where he knew he could their lights burning—they were preparing for sit down and think, for there all was dark and the early customers the petit déjeûner, having quiet. packed the night customers to their homes. To begin with, what should be done with The beggar shuffled down a street that cut twenty francs? He could buy a woolen into the Place de la Concorde and made for neckcloth; that would be good. How much? the riverside. A commis, going to work, im- He imagined himself in a shop of which he pressed by the early sight of poverty, gave him knew, over the river, inspecting the stock of a copper. The beggar smiled. If the clerk WHAT IS A GOOD MAN? A Symposium by ARCHBISHOP IRELAND THOMAS W. LAWSON H, G. WELLS GENERAL COUNT KATSURA PROFESSOR EDWARD ALSWORTH ROSS come will the Lor erstborn for Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God ? shall J come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? Þe bath shewed thee, 0 man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ? THE Edi- - an enrich- tor had ment of read that morning of a doctor who one's experience of life. had died in Bellevue Hospital the He was really very deeply im- previous evening, and the brief de- pressed; all day the subject persisted tails of the man's life recorded a in his mind. So it was not so irrele- story of extraordinary self-sacrifice vant as it sounded that he should star- and devotion. He might have been a fa- tle the Editorial Conclave by seriously inquir- mous man with a millionaire clientele, but ing: “Has any of you ever known a good he had been only an overworked physician man?” “Why?” asked one of the group, after practising in a poverty-stricken quarter of the a pause. “What is a good man, anyway?” lower East Side of New York. Patients he “There's — ," said another, mentioning had had in droves—the wives, the children, the name of a big Wall Street man who had the fathers of the most overcrowded plot of rendered striking service in the recent finan- God's earth. He had worked night and day. cial crisis. “I should think he figures out as All that skill and genius which had caused good according to the average standard. He his class at the Medical College to regard him works hard and has succeeded honestly. He as its most promising member had been goes to church on Sundays, contributes liber- freely bestowed on the unfortunate. He had ally to foreign missions and the Y. M. C. A., lived humbly in a tenement flat, on call day neither smokes nor drinks, stays home at and night, and in that swarming human hive nights, and is decent to his wife and children." there had seldom been an hour in which some “All that and much more is true of John one of his suffering people had not demanded D. Rockefeller, the most generous man in the his service. Literally, this man had put aside world,” objected the Editor; "yet you'll all the joys and prides of the flesh and had hardly put forth the president of Standard Oil devoted himself to unremunerated service. as a good man.” Thinking over all that this record involved “What about my janitor?” came from of generosity, of discomfort, of self- the next man. "He's dead square in abnegation, the Editor had a convic- all his dealings, does his work faith- tion that this physician must truly fully. Ours is the best-run apartment- have been a rarely good man and house I've ever lived in. He supports that to have known well such a his wife's old father, and has two of man would his sister's have meant children liv- 850 What Is a Good Man? 851 man?" ing with a in an interior him. Yes, city whose he does drink a bit, but not more talent is so distinguished that one of than is fair. Isn't he a mighty good the great firms in New York offered him a partnership. This man has “What's the matter with all of exhausted the possibilities of his pres- us?” here interrupted the man who ent environment. To accept would had asked for a definition of a good man. have meant happiness to him, and might “We are making good on our jobs, we are have meant new shapes of beauty to gladden sober, we tell the truth, live decent lives. the eyes of many millions. But he has an How much more do you want, anyway?” elder sister who gave her youth to toil to It seemed to the Editor that goodness- obtain for him the education he coveted. real goodness-is something more than liv- Now in her later years she has only her home ing up to one's human obligations. So he and her friends. Her transplantation to a said: “All of you have confused respectabil- great strange city would entail the surrender ity with goodness. Let me tell you of a man of that atmosphere which is her life. The who died last night.” man refused the chance. There is the sac- “But that doctor was a hero and a devotee," rifice of a great career, and the world is the objected the Art Editor, when the Editor poorer therefor. Is he a good man? had finished his tale. “You can prove noth- Let us take the instance of — , who made ing by him. He is a counsel of perfection.” some five millions in a tricky deal. Two “Suppose some man with a wife and millions of his winnings he employed in family and a business depending on him, erecting a model tenement in the Ghetto, in should attempt to follow such a precedent? which a hundred families find comfortable Would he be a good man?” inquired another. housing. The newspapers advertise him as Goodness—it's a complex proposition a philanthropist-is he a good man? Isn't Sometimes its ultimate seems to be found in such a benefaction mere restitution? Yet self-abnegation; but abstinence per se is a who can deny that the hundred families im- barren form of virtue. To live in a desert, mensely benefited? Andrew Carnegie is in- sequestered from one's fellow beings, scourg- vesting the proceeds of some extraordinary ing one's body, fasting and praying, may and successful ventures in iron and steel in be the routine for saintship, but how does Carnegie libraries and hero funds, and is gain- the hermit enrich the world or his kind? ing the return he desires in present fame and The monk's office is the subjugation of his future immortality. But despite his strutting own body for the benefit of his own soul and posturing, is he not playing a big part Is it not the other man's soul that counts? in educating this generation and those to fol- One can conceive of no lives nobler than low? Is not that great service? those of the ministers and priests whose days The farther one presses the problem, the are spent in visiting the sick, succoring the deeper is one involved in contradictions. The widow and the orphan, finding work for the President demands of a good man that he unemployed, encouraging the struggler. This must be able to hold his own in rough con- is surely the very soul of Christian service, flict with his fellows: It is God's work, and these are God's soldiers. “No man is worth much to the commonwealth All honor to those that have the courage to if he is not capable of feeling righteous wrath and enlist. But the average man, who, having just indignation; if he is not stirred to hot anger by given hostages to fortune, finds his com- misdoing, and is not impelled to see justice meted out to the wrongdoers.” pelling duty the housing, feeding, and clothing of wife and children, how must he Life is more complex than it was. The comport himself in the workaday world to growth of population, compelling closer re- rank as a good man? If his service is no lations between individuals, the creation of greater than making some woman great manufacturing interests that and some home happy, does he ful- have concentrated millions of men in fil his whole obligation? Does he cities, the increasing fierceness of owe nothing to that greater family, competition between commercial or- humanity? ganizations fighting for supremacy- There is all have an architect brought What Is a Good Man? 853 · and purpose - an infidel.” become The good pleasure and personal aggrandize- man is ever mindful of his family. ment. Intellectual concepts of mo- Nothing, whatever else is done for rality, unsupported by a living au- society or for country, makes up for thority from which there is no escape, the neglect of the home. The good do not build up the strong soul, able man provides for the material and to beat down the rising billows of tempta- moral wants of wife and children; he is kind tion and to impose silence upon the wild and loving: while the master in authority, he clamorings of passion. Human interests, in is the servant in ministration. . the last analysis, reveal themselves as selfish Say what some will, tolerate as they may interests. The service of society or of hu- what civil law reluctantly tolerates, the in- manity at large, so freely invoked by a school dissolubility, as well as the oneness, of the sac- of modern philosophy, is a misty dream, from ramental tie of wedlock remains not only the which the sin-burnt heart turns in derision. dictate of the Christian religion, but also the The good man will be a devout worshiper natural and necessary protection of the family of the Almighty: he will be a religious man hearthstone. Where the good man rules, true He will kneel often in adoration and prayer; and faithful, benignant and forbearing, there he will seek out in earnest study the law of is seldom need even of separation; where the Supreme Master, and will loyally con separation is deemed urgent, it must never be form to it in his private and social life. supplemented by the rupture of the marital The good man has his duties to himself. bond. That he is a good husband and a good Chief among these is the utter cleanliness of father is one of the highest encomiums before heart, the righteousness of the inner soul. God and men that the good man may am- Mere exterior morality is a sham and a bition or hope for. pretense. It does not last: it withstands no The good man's relations with his fellow- severe trial. At best, it is a hypocrisy, a lie men within the social organism will be char- acted out by the man himself, an effort to acterized by absolute justice and charity. deceive his fellow men. “Avoid evil.” Do no harm to rich or to Clean of heart, the good man will be clean poor. Be honest and honorable. The acqui- of mouth. Vulgar and obscene language, sition of wealth, be it of one dollar, or of a oaths, and blasphemies will never pollute his million dollars, is praiseworthy when it fol- speech. He will be clean of act, respecting lows upon industry, the use of high talent, his body as the very handiwork of God. He the vigilant observation of opportunity. To will be clean of hand, never reaching out to be poor through slothfulness, wastefulness, the things that are not his by strictest rules of or wilful ignorance, is a sin and a disgrace. social justice. The good man will not be But, throughout, justice must prevail: nothing the lazy and indolent servant; he will improve must be taken that belongs legitimately to his mind by thoughtful study; he will im- others: no methods must be employed that prove, as circumstances permit, his condition law and equity reprove. “Avoid evil; do in life, bringing into active exercise the good.” When acquired, wealth must be put latent talents given to him by the Creator, to good use. Let it, indeed, serve in fair that they be developed and put to profit. He abundance the owner and his dependents. will be brave in effort, resigned in failure, Let it be stored up in view of future contin- calm and self-possessed in success. gencies. To reduce the use of wealth to mere “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” necessities, to put the rich in this regard on Man is necessarily a social being: he has the plane of the less successful, is to eliminate absolute need of others. Altruism, the love from society the spirit of enterprise, to of the neighbor, is imposed upon him by his smother in the human breast the promptings very nature, and by the author of that nature, to hard work and to sacrifice of ease and the Almighty God. The neighbor pleasure. But in its exuberance means family, society, country. wealth must go beyond the owner “And if any man have not care and the owner's family. It must of his own,” says St. Paul, “especially never be forgotten that society is not for those of his house, he hath denied without claims upon one's surplus the faith and revenue. is worse than The miserly 856 Everybody's Magazine ist and look y have a mind forward to exercised the time when the economic machin- finely and flexible and alert, he will ery of the community will not be a not be a secretive man. Secretiveness field for private enrichment but for and secret planning are vulgarity, and public service. men and women need to be educated, He will be good to his wife and chil- and he will be educated, out of them. dren as he will be good to his friends, but he He will be intensely truthful, not simply in will be no partisan for wife and family against the vulgar sense of not misstating facts when the common welfare. His solicitude will be pressed, but truthful in the manner of the for the welfare of all the children of the com- scientific man or the artist, and as scornful munity; he will have got beyond blind in- of concealment as they; truthful, that is to stinct, he will have the intelligence to under- say, as the expression of a ruling desire to stand that almost any child in the world may have things made plain and clear, because have as large a share as his own offspring in that so they are most beautiful and life is at the parentage of his great-great-grandchil- its finest. ... dren. His wife he will treat as his equal A nd all that I have written of him applies - he will not be “kind” to her, but fair and word for word, with only such changes of gen- frank and loving, as one equal should be with der as are needed, to the woman citizen also. another; he will no more have the imperti- nence to pet and pamper her, to keep painful and laborious things out of her knowledge, to "shield” her from the responsibility of political and social work, than he will to make An Epigrammatic Composite a Chinese toy of her and bind her feet. He and she will love that they may enlarge and By THOMAS W. LAWSON not limit each other. Author of " Frenzied Finance." Consciously and deliberately the good citizen will seek beauty in himself and in his Ours is an age of individualism. Every way of living. He will be temperate rather man king, with the king's prerogative of than harshly abstinent, and he will keep him- whittling out the yardstick by which his own self fit and in training as an elementary duty, goodness is to be measured. On this count He will not be a fat nor an emaciated person. there are in America almost as many good Fat panting men and thin enfeebled ones men as there are grown males, but as no cannot possibly be considered good citizens, two of their yardsticks are alike, the true any more than dirty or verminous people. measure must be some sort of average of all He will be just as fine and seemly in his of them. person as he can be, not from vanity and self- I have known clergymen and statesmen, assertion, but to be pleasing and agreeable to a lot of dollar-charmers and penny-a-liners, his fellows. The ugly dress and ugly bearing and some gamblers and horse-traders, who of the “good men” of to-day will be as in- were good men, when you allowed them to comprehensible to him as the filth of a manipulate at least one end of the divining- paleolithic savage is to us. He will not rod, while every woman I have known was speak of his "frame" and hang clothes like so good that I contracted eyeache trying to sacks over it; he will know and feel that he locate her wing joints. But I have never and the people about him have wonderful and known a good man whose goodness lay not beautiful bodies. in some excess of credits over debits on a And—I speak of the ideal common citizen balance-sheet of which his own conscience -he will be a student and a philosopher. was auditor. To understand will be one of his necessary Having made a special study of polished duties. His mind, like his body, will bad men, I early discovered that be fit and well clothed. He will not many gems--misplaced, perhaps, but be too busy to read and think, though yet gems-entered into their make- he may be too busy to rush about to ups, and I can do no better than get ignorantly and blatantly rich. It give to EVERYBODY's readers my idea follows that of the good since he will man as I What Is a Good Man? 857 have con- bits from his structed it neighbors' out of the treasures rescued from the ears, but neither does he allow them base metals of such souls. to mix omelets in his headgear. He Every good man says “May I?” knows two and two make four, not to the weak and “I will” to the three or eleven. He deals from the strong, and he never forgets that his top, gives the other fellow his cut, body, as well as his soul, is his charge, which never welches on the kitty, but he does insist must be returned undefiled. upon checks being redeemed at pot value. A good man approaches a king on his feet No good man ever gets his gambling and and women on his knees. He curses and his business money tangled, or his Bible and commands in prose, and grants and courts his card-case mixed, or ever drops an unre- in poetry. deemed poker-chip into the contribution-box. He wears a brake on his passions, and A good man shivers when left alone with gears his love to the sun, the moon, and the his success. “Here's to the next bout,” is a stars. toast he keeps on tap for his failures. A good man dedicates his heart and soul A good man crosses himself, as, at mid- to his wife, his conscience to his mother, and night, he gazes up at God's daisy-field, and his very being to his country. with the ecstasy of a child in imagination he A good man loves children and horses, and sails the swirling clouds as the lightnings flash the dogs mistake him for the Santa Claus of and the thunders crash. their fireside dreams. Steal a good man's dreams and he will yell Good men's clubs always have a wife or "Murder”; make off with his purse and you mother for steward, and children for bell- will hear him whistling, “There is more where boys. that came from.” No good man ever asked the old folks from When country calls, good men hear the echo the country to present their visiting-cards at though it comes to them in the bowels of the servants' hall during receptions. the earth, on the mountain peaks, or in the The good man engraves his friendships on middle of the ocean; and instantly they find his own heart, his hatred on his enemies', wings. and keeps all edges sharp and all lines deep A good man always votes, first removing his until death. hat. An all-round good man picks his antag- A good man knows a liar would be a thief onists with extreme care, and follows them or a murderer if he had the nimbleness and to the grave to get their location in hell for the nerve. future use. Good men kneel to God, the flag, their A rattling good man counters the com- mothers, and their children's mothers. mand “Turn the other cheek” with “An A good man carries no brass drum to eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” and church, and burns no candles trying to re- he speaks to blackguards and bullies with his write the Ten Commandments. fist instead of his tongue. A good man keeps in mind when traveling A good man is always sorry for his own the Cradle-to-the-Grave Turnpike that he can tininess and glad of the other fellow's big- carry through the ferry-gate only what his ness. mother brought in over the toll-bridge, and He measures his wants by his possessions refuses to load up as he journeys. and his friends' necessities; he knows no hun- A good man can swim the Styx if he misses ger or thirst, no happiness while his women- the ferry. folks or his friends seek, and he insists that He is one who talks in the “I-think”- the obligation of his friend be written in chalk “You-know” language. while he styluses his own in indelible ink. He writes i small and You large, yells After making a promise a good “Them” and whispers “me.” man never sleeps until he has ful- An Ai good man is mighty skittish filled it. about life, but settled and ready at all A good man seldom has three eves, times to shake hands with death. and abominates double-decked sleeves. When a good man is undecided, he He never ex- recalls that he tracts rab- w is here for a A Nation of Villagers 863 Oil Trust were a terrible discovery of his form of industrial Laissez Faire, or Let It own. The facts were not new to me, nor to Rip. If you point out these facts to an any of the writers with whom I was associated American, he first puts you in the stocks for as editor of the essays. What Clarke, though mentioning improper subjects, and then he had traveled and lectured in America, did thanks Heaven that America is purified not fully realize, was the stupendous dense- and protected from all such Old-World ness of the Americans' ignorance of their filth by those two straight questions to all own country—the childishness which enables comers: Are you an Anarchist? Are you a them to remain simple New England villagers polygamist? in the complicated hustle of New York and What are we Europeans to do with such a Chicago, never revising their ideas, never people? How are we to govern them? How enlarging their consciousness, never losing are we to establish the anti-Monroe Doc- their interest in the ideals of the Pilgrim trine, now clearly necessary to the world's Fathers. A year or two ago, however, it welfare, that all Americans must be entirely suddenly occurred to them that the village disfranchised and declared incapable of pub- shopkeeper was in difficulties. To their sym- lic employment or office, and their country pathetic inquiries he replied that “the Trust" taken over, regulated, and governed by us? was to blame. And so the simple villagers Such a measure would, of course, not apply said: "How wicked! let us put the Trust in to the negroes, who are reported a com- the stocks at once.” And that is what they paratively well-mannered, serviceable, rea- are trying to do at present, not having yet sonable race. Probably the best plan would noticed that the Trust is too strong, the be some modification for the white American stocks too small, and Standard Oil none the of the reservation system now applied to the dearer or harder to get. red Indian. I have myself observed the In- American political naiveté would be inex- dian cheekbone reappearing in the American; haustibly amusing if the results of it were and they tell me that a party of Americans not so tragically serious. Like all villagers, passing along the street instinctively walk in the American believes everything he sees in single file. Also, they torture their enemies the papers, and sums up all social peril under in the Philippines; but let me be just and the heads of Anarchism and Free Love. He admit that they do not scalp them-at least feels that he must take steps to put down not yet. these two heresies. Accordingly, he asks B ut as Europe is not yet prepared to take everybody who wants to come to America America in hand, hoping, perhaps, that Ja- the two questions: Are you an Anarchist? pan will save it the trouble, there is nothing Are you a polygamist? And the emigrant's to be done at present but look on at the tragi- reply is, “Certainly not, sir. I assure you I comedy of the Virtuous Villager and the Bold would not think of such a thing," whereupon Bad Trust, and to try neither to despair of America solemnly says, “Then you may humanity nor to laugh. After all, America come in.” A European child of six can see is not submitting to the Trusts without a that the effect of this infantile precaution is struggle. The first steps have already been not to exclude Anarchists and Free Lovers, taken by the village constable. He is no but to make sure that they shall be liars as doubt preparing a new question for emi- well. You exclude Martin Luther, who de- grants: “Do you approve of Trusts?” but fended polygamy on principle; and you ex- pending this supreme measure of national clude Kropotkin, who professes Anarchism, defense he has declared in several States that and is none the less a valuable asset to Eng- Trusts will certainly be put in the stocks and land and a serious loss to his own country. whipped. It is to be hoped for his own sake You admit the profligate nobleman with his that he will not be as silly as his word, be- steam yacht carrying a cargo of half a dozen cause as the village shopkeeper has already ladies; and you admit whole cargoes of Czol- either put up the shutters and become an goszes. Also, you manufacture Free Love employee of the Trust, or converted his shop at home on such a scale that I can buy it in into a "tied house" completely dependent any American city as easily as I can buy a on it, the constable, if he succeeds in stocking typewriter; whilst as for Anarchism, the the Trust, will presently be reduced to eating American Constitution as interpreted by the his own boots in the absence of any other Supreme Court and by popular opinion is provisions. simply a charter of Anarchism in its worst I write with a sort of desperate levity be- 864 Everybody's Magazine cause I feel how useless it is to attempt to brigand, a tyrant, an octopus, a hydra, a explain the matter in an American magazine. Bluebeard. If you come to that, the village The only result would be a discussion on the shopkeeper often enough finds his biography utterly irrelevant and trivial question whether ready written for him in Bunyan's "Life and I am serious, without a word as to the vitally Death of Mr. Badman.” Besides, the moral important question whether the solid facts I comparison is not to the point. Louis XI. am dealing with are serious. was not so amiable a person as Louis XVI. Were I writing for European readers I or President Garfield; but he was enormously should explain the situation somewhat in this more beneficent politically than either of fashion: When a country has to be newly them. My deceased colleague, William cleared and settled by casual ambitious col- Clarke, pointed out in the very essay I have onists without any common industrial tra- referred to, that the thrones of capable scoun- dition or body of custom, and society is in drels are built on the rock, and those of silly the village stage, the anarchical plan of let- philanthropists and amiable nincompoops on ting every man mind his own business and the sand. do the best he can for himself is the only If the Trust magnates were ten times practicable one. The guarantee, such as it wickeder men than the village shopkeepers is, against cheating, adulteration, and over- -and there is no evidence that they are at charge in the shops, is the competition of the all wickeder relatively to their opportunities shopkeepers for custom; and to maintain and temptations—that would not make it a this guarantee as against the inevitable final whit more possible for America to boycott tendency of the shopkeepers to conspire the Trusts and buy everything it wants at against the customer instead of competing the one-man village shop unless at the same for his custom, attempts are soon made to time it reduced its wants to those of its set up a political theory that combination great-grandfathers' shepherds. Your rail- among producers acts in restraint of trade, way bosses may-in fact they do-make rail- and to enforce the competition of the rival way traveling in America more dangerous shops in the village street as a permanent than war; but the village shopkeeper cannot condition. At the same time, as the village provide you with railways: a wagon once a shopkeeper is largely himself a customer week to the nearest country town is the best of the village farmer, a flatly contradictory he can do for you. Your alternatives are: political theory is also set up that the shop. I, to give up railway traveling and be content keeper must buy his wares from the village with the wagon (facing the incidental famine farmer and not import them from cheaper and depopulation and financial crisis); 2, in- sources. Thus you get an utter confusion sure against accidents if you can afford it, of principle in industry, production being and grin and bear it if you can't; 3, impose regulated ruthlessly by Protection, and dis- conditions of public safety and convenience tribution delivered over to the anarchy of on the railway companies as in England; or, competition. 4, nationalize your railways as most Euro- Fortunately, the anarchical part of the pean countries do. I is ridiculous; 3 requires mixture will not work. Anarchy never does a stronger government than a democracy of work. If the village shopkeeper can handle villagers who are all anarchists at heart only one factor, or fragment of a factor, in can produce; 4 requires not only a powerful wholesale buying and retail selling; and government but highly capable administra- brains, borrowing the accumulating capital tive departments of permanent civil servants. of the luckier landlords, can integrate and So you accept 2 as Hobson's choice. It is handle = dozen factors, and annex the pre- the same with the other industries, more or liminary production at the same time, they less. will undersell him and offer the consumer It is indeed the way of the world. If you better quality and service; so that the con- want a thing done in your own interests you sumer, whilst giving his moral support to the must either be strong enough to master those competitive villager, will buy his groceries who do it, or else do it yourself. The Amer- from integratory brains and capital, alias icans are capable of neither; so, since they “the Trust." In vain does the competitive cannot live without their industries, they villager plead that he is a hard-working, God- must submit to be mastered by the Trusts, fearing, poor man struggling to bring up a which are capable of both. No doubt they family respectably, and that the Trust is a feel mean under the circumstances: they are A Nation of Villagers 865 mean. But it is no use kicking. All they obvious that the President is trying to redeem can do is to keep their attention off the inci- the United States solely because a man must dents of their slavery, and keep it on the in- assume that things can be bettered, or else cidents of such petty tyrannies as slaves are lie down and die of despair. The Socialists, allowed to indulge in. Thus, when a million as voiced by Mr. Upton Sinclair, hope still and three-quarter American children of from more desperately that Capitalism will break six to twelve are being debauched, murdered, down for want of markets, and that Socialism sweated as no horse can be sweated in a will step in and build on the ruins: a very London street without the arrest of the mad hope indeed, because, first, Capitalism sweater by the police, it is a comfort to for- is not in the smallest danger of any such get all about it, and to rejoice in asserting the breakdown, and suffers much less from tem- determination of America to keep her family porary crises than it did a century ago, when life pure by sending Mr. Comstock with a this discredited prophecy began to be bandied force of police to seize on the usual annual about; and, second, Socialism is only possible exhibition of ordinary drawings made by as the consummation of successful Capital- students in an art school from statues and ism, which, with all its horrors, will be undraped models. adored by history as the pathfinder of Social- The press is no help, because the villagers ism and the ruthless reducer to absurdity of are too simple-minded to run a newspaper, village Unsocialism. and must take those which the Trusts pro- No; things in America will have to get vide them. They can, however, ask the worse before they get better. Socialism is the village postmistress to open and read all the remedy; but Socialism is only possible where printed matter which passes through her Individualism is developed to the point at hands, and not deliver anything that is wrong which the individual can see bevond himself -another of those humanity-staggering pre- and works to perfect his city and his nation cautions which convulse Europe with laugh- instead of to furnish his own house better ter and convulse intelligent Americans with than his neighbor's. Short of that point In- helpless rage and shame. For, as the Trusts dividualism is not Individualism, but Idiocy virtually appoint the village postmistress, her (a word which idiots cannot understand), and natural silliness and rusticity are complicated Idiocy and nothing else is just what is the by corruption; and she discriminates in favor matter with America to-dav. of the Trusts and against all freedom of Therefore I advise Mr. Roosevelt to come thought and writing, which are the only pow- across the Atlantic and live in some compara- ers that can prevail against the tendency of tively civilized country, where he can tell his Trusts to abuse their power. countrymen what is good for them without There is, I fear, nothing to be done. A being lynched, or deposed and put in prison nation-of 80,000,000 villagers which is inca- by a Pinkerton army. His fit successor- pable of developing beyond the village stage, whose appointment should be made per- or even making as good a job of that as a manent by a constitutional amendment-is handful of Russians would with their Mir Mr. Anthony Comstock. Mr. Comstock is traditions; which has a morbidly democratic the Villager of Villagers: he is America's constitution because it mistrusts its Govern- epitome. There is no esoteric side to him, as ment even more than it mistrusts its people; there must be to Mr. Roosevelt. There is which is too big to be conquered by a Euro- no schoolboyish, rough-rider legend attached pean Power; and which, when the natural to him. Mr. Comstock as a barelegged law of economic rent begins to operate on a child on a barebacked horse is an unthink- huge scale, cannot form a government strong able impropriety. Mr. Comstock is under- enough to socialize it, must fall helplessly stood, approved, and obeyed by the Amer- into the hands of its exploiters and bosses, icans. All Americans who are not criminals and outface its disgrace by tall talk as best or artists are Comstocks, and are proud of it may. it. It would be at once a graceful act and a President Roosevelt cannot realize his penetrating social criticism for Mr. Roose- dream of making America a real national velt to nominate him and retire in his favor. organism, sovereign over all anti-social pow. In doing so the President would haul down ers within its own frontiers, and forcing all his own flag and hoist the true American men to climb to prosperity instead of rooting flag. It should be a white flag, black on the for it as hogs root for truffles. Already it is other side. Everybody's Talagazine PUBLISHED BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY Erman J. Ridgway, President John O'Hara Cosgrave WM. L. JENNINGS, Sec'y and Treas. Ray Brown, Art Director Editor Robert FROTHINGHAM, Ado. Mgr. 31 EAST 17TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY With “Everybody's” Publishers IVING Christmas presents is a pleasure given by a certain feature in the last num- U that we all indulge in. Picking them ber. EVERYBODY's is the kind of a Christmas out sometimes amounts almost to a hardship. present that stays right through the year, and How often have you balked at the smallness the last copy may be a better present than the of the amount you are able to spend on a first. It gives a pleasure out of all propor- certain gift, and wondered if the gift would tion to the price, it shows a loving thought- not seem too picayune; wondered if the friend fulness, and it never looks niggardly. or relative who received it would have Christ- Try it this year on some of your friends mas charity enough to look beyond the amount and let us know the kind of thanks you get. expended and realize the loving thought that We have had printed a very handsome an- accompanied it. There are not so many nouncement to accompany magazines sent things, when you come to think of it, that as Christmas presents. All you have to do you can buy for a grown-up for $1 or $2 that is to send the name and address of the friend seem absolutely worth while. Of course, the to whom you wish the magazine sent, your stores are full of beautiful things, but so many own name, and $1.50, and we will forward of them are of such an ephemeral nature. the magazine and Christmas card direct from They are nice for trimming, pretty to hang on this office. The card carries an announce- a Christmas tree, but after Christmas is over, ment as follows: where do they go? Probably 50,000,000 people puzzle over this problem every year, each in his own way, and come no nearer a solution than before. Each year there is a multitude of pleasant friends REQUESTS whom you don't feel that you can overlook, and THE RIDGWAY COMPANY the list seems to grow rather than contract. And TO ANNOUNCE THAT vet, each year there is the pocketbook as nar- row and unexpansive as it was the year before. EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE Sometimes it seems to shut up even tighter. WILL BE SENT TO YOU FOR ONE YEAR What's the answer? Send a year's sub- COMMENCING WITH scription to EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE to THE FIRST ISSUE OF THE NEW YEAR your friend that you don't want to forget. THE PUBLISHERS Think of the pleasure that will come from it WISH TO JOIN THE DONOR IN THE HOPE THAT all through the year! How often do you get YOU WILL RECEIVE FROM EVERY NUMBER sincerely thanked for the average Christmas THE SAME ENJOYMENT present six months after it has been given? THAT PROMPTED THE GIFT It has been our personal experience to have a friend turn up months after the magazine was sent, and thank us warmly for the pleasure 866 No. Vo. 70318 PRINCETVIUI Princeton University Library 32101 077260857