0&TUNES Or A
 
 UNIV. OP CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS
 
 44 mm. m 
 
 "Nun ade du mein lieb Heimathland .'"
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Being a faithful narrative of the 
 fortunes of a little "Greenhorn" 
 in America. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GRIMM. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY MARK FORREST. 
 
 GERMANIA PUBLISHING CO., 
 Milwaukee, WIs.
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1904 
 
 BY 
 GEORGE GRIMM.
 
 Dedicated 
 
 To My 
 
 German- American Friends. 
 
 2130357
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 preparing this narrative, my constant earnest 
 wish has been to awaken a slight pride of 
 blood in the hearts of our foreign born citi- 
 zens particularly our German-Americans 
 which will cause them to cling to the good traits of 
 their ancestors and engraft them on their "seedlings" 
 sprouting on Freedom's soil. 
 
 While to some the story may seem mere fiction, 
 there are hundreds of thousands still living whom, if 
 it should chance to meet their eye, it would be impos- 
 sible to convince that it is other than a truthful nar- 
 rative of facts as indeed it is the like of which they 
 have themselves in part experienced or witnessed. And 
 there are others, of different blood, thoughtful, ob- 
 serving men who have keenly followed the evolution 
 which has created from manifold elements a splendid 
 whole who will see in Phillip Bertram one typical of 
 a people who have done much to stamp principles of 
 economy, industry, perseverance and integrity upon 
 
 V
 
 the American national character. I have endeavored 
 to present him as he was ; but it is quite possible that 
 I may have overlooked some of his shortcomings in- 
 deed for me none ever existed and presented to the 
 reader only his best side. If I have it is but natural, 
 for we are all prone to forget the little faults and re- 
 menber only the good traits of admirable men. 
 
 GEORGE GRIMM. 
 
 VI
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. "That little German Home across the 
 
 Sea" 1 
 
 II. On the Ocean - 21 
 
 III. "In dot city wot de peobles call Nuw 
 
 York" 47 
 
 IV. New Friends - 60 
 V. Lost in New York 69 
 
 VI. The search successful 75 
 
 VII. "Learning the ropes" u - 86 
 
 VIII. The Night School - 94 
 
 IX. The Fight between Chums 106 
 
 X. Why Phillip left New York - 115 
 
 XL Peter Gross 143 
 
 XII. A Year in Philadelphia - 166 
 
 XIII. A Good Friend Gone Forever 172 
 
 XIV. In the Woods of Wisconsin - 182 
 XV. The Mass Meeting at Glauber's Hall 195 
 
 XVI. An Expert Witness 210 
 
 VII
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVII. Jack Makes a Trade - 219 
 
 XVIII. He had to shout - - 231 
 
 XIX. The War - 242 
 
 XX. Doctor Lawrence and Bessie - 253 
 
 XXI. Phillip and Bessie 260 
 
 XXII. Happy, Happy Days - 269 
 
 XXIII. In the Old "Heimath" - - 276 
 
 XXIV. A Last Look 279 
 
 INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Nun ade da mein lieb Heimathland", - Frontispiece 
 
 " 'You let the Kid alone'", 60 
 
 "Two men were driving- ox teams", - - 182 
 
 " 'Halt, Landsleute !'" 202 
 
 "'You don't think they've got the heaves?"' - 224 
 
 "He made a dash for liberty, into the darkness". 246 
 
 1 'Look at me darling! 1 " 266 
 
 " 'Look 1 , and he placed his arms about her" - 282 
 
 VIII
 
 PLUCK. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 'THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA/' 
 
 T was early in the year 1844, before the rev- 
 olutionary wave which culminated in the 
 flight or exile from the Fatherland of so 
 many of the freedom-loving Teutons had 
 reached its climax, and many years before the great 
 King Wilhelm and the iron Bismarck cemented into 
 one grand, powerful empire the many petty German 
 states or kingdoms. 
 
 In a little village, picturesquely situated at the 
 edge of a valley in the midst of the famous "Fichtel- 
 gebirg" of upper Bavaria, there were sitting around 
 a rude table on equally rude benches and chairs, 
 Adam Bertram, his wife Barbara, and his five chil- 
 dren, ranging from seventeen down to five years of 
 age. The look of deep earnestness resting upon the 
 faces of the parents and the older children hushed to 
 seriousness even the youngest member of the family ; 
 and the deep emotion which had just vibrated in the 
 father's voice found its emphasis in the subdued sobs
 
 PLUCK 
 
 and tearful eyes of the mother. Little "Fritzie" did 
 not know what it all meant ; but the solemnity of the 
 others oppressed him and he huddled up to his mother 
 in quiet awe. 
 
 The room in which they were seated was cleanly, 
 but small, and bore evidence of great poverty. Ad- 
 joining this were two others, one used as sleeping 
 room by the older children; the other by their par- 
 ents and the baby. Adjoining the house, and, in fact, 
 built under the same roof, was a small stable accom- 
 modating a cow, a goat and some chickens. This lit- 
 tle home with its contents comprised the worldly 
 possessions of Herr Adam Bertram, the schoolmas- 
 ter of the village. 
 
 Mr. Bertram was a man of fair education fully 
 equal to the requirements of his position and pos- 
 sessed that happy combination of firmness of char- 
 acter and kindness of heart which always wins re- 
 spect and love. His ready advice and quick solici- 
 tude in misfortune had long since endeared him to 
 the villagers ; and it was only dire present necessity 
 that compelled them to cause their beloved school- 
 master the increased cares which now burdened him. 
 
 But Adam Bertram was not a man to succumb to 
 adversity. The school of life in which he had been 
 reared was one of constant struggle, and each victory 
 had increased his confidence in ultimate success. 
 Thrown upon his own resources in early childhood, 
 losing his parents when he was but nine years of 
 age, he stood alone in the world, dependent upon the 
 scant and grudging charity of relatives. The 
 burden of supporting him was shifted from one to 
 
 2
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 another the one having the most work on hand be- 
 ing usually the most willing to take temporary charge 
 of the boy. Being looked upon as an intruder, he 
 received no more than was absolutely necessary to 
 protect his body with tolerable decency and to par- 
 tially appease the healthy appetite of a sturdy, grow- 
 ing lad. But even at that time little Adam made 
 friends, and the good minister of the village under- 
 took to enlarge the boy's education, which had been 
 interrupted by the death of his parents. Little time 
 was left him for amusements, and the hours usually 
 devoted by other children to recreation were given to 
 study and instruction. This brought about the nat- 
 ural result of early maturing the strength and earn- 
 estness of character which afterwards distinguished 
 him. 
 
 When he was twelve years of age, his relatives re- 
 fused to further support him, and he was apprenticed 
 to a blacksmith, a man of cruel disposition and rigid 
 mles. He no longer had leisure time to study, and 
 was often obliged to work beyond his physical ability. 
 In less than a year after being apprenticed he quietly 
 and secretly bade good-bye to the good old minister 
 and a few confidential friends, and thereafter 
 was seen no more in his native village. He drifted 
 about from town to town, sometimes obtaining em- 
 ployment, more frequently, however, dependent on 
 charity, and still oftener suffering from want of the 
 ordinary necessaries of life. When he was fifteen 
 years of age he finally secured permanent employment 
 from an old widowed lady whom he had asked for 
 aid during his wanderings. She gave him to eat, 
 
 3
 
 PLUCK 
 
 and with kindness and open sympathy, gradually 
 elicited from him the story of his life. When she 
 found that he had a fairly good education, she em- 
 ployed him upon her farm, and long before he reached 
 the age of twenty he was overseer, with sufficient in- 
 come to enable him to lay aside a little for future 
 wants. 
 
 It was during this period of his life that he first 
 became acquainted with his present wife, Barbara, 
 then a bright, cheerful girl, the daughter of a book- 
 seller in a neighboring village. They learned to love 
 one another, and many an instructive book was se- 
 cured from her father's store for Adam's use, who 
 strenuously labored during his leisure hours to per- 
 fect his neglected education. 
 
 For years he saved up his small earnings and long 
 they looked forward to the happy time of their union 
 when he would be able to provide a home. The death 
 of his benefactress and the subsequent division of her 
 estate threw him out of employment, and he was 
 obliged to look about for other work. As yet he had 
 not saved up sufficient to provide for a wife and fam- 
 ily; but he courageously said good-bye to his sweet- 
 heart and started southward, finally drifting to this 
 little village among the hills of Bavaria. Here he 
 was offered the position of schoolmaster, and prompt- 
 ly accepted. The times then being good, he was able 
 to save up some of his earnings, and within a year 
 thereafter he sent for his bride, and they were mar- 
 ried in the little home where we find them at the 
 opening of this story. 
 
 4
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 That they were happy it is needless to say, and 
 their union was blessed with five children. Thus far 
 there had been no extreme difficulty in supporting 
 them, as the children were brought up to work and 
 assist in their own support. But things had changed. 
 The turbulent times referred to, which took their 
 rise in the depressed social conditions and the pov- 
 erty of the people, were beginning to be felt with 
 increased intensity. Rigid economy became a neces- 
 sity ; wages and salaries had to be reduced ; and Adam 
 Bertram found himself in a position where his pay 
 was insufficient to support, his family at a time when 
 his children were still too young to shift for them- 
 selves. 
 
 It had been the practice of Mr. Bertram always to 
 take the whole family into his confidence and consult 
 with them on all questions pertaining to their wel- 
 fare; and the many moments of earnest considera- 
 tion, advice and admonition had borne their fruit 
 upon his young sons. Though some of them lived to 
 a. ripe old age, they never forgot the teachings in- 
 stilled into their youthful minds, and ever blessed 
 their father as the cause of their life's success. The 
 broad charity and Christian faith, which he taught 
 them, moulded their minds and shaped the course of 
 their future lives. To-night's meeting was, however, 
 the most serious consultation they had ever had, be- 
 cause it involved the breaking up of the family. The 
 father had just told them of the action of the village 
 trustees, which reduced his salary so that he would 
 be unable to support them all in the future, and ha.d 
 concluded his remarks with the following words:
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Many years have I served them faithfully, and 
 they would do more for me if they could ; but they 
 cannot without starving their own families. I have 
 foreseen this since last summer when the hail de- 
 stroyed so much of the crop, but hoped that it could 
 be put off until riper years and understanding would 
 be a stronger safeguard to you, my children. I have 
 no fear for your physical welfare; you are healthy 
 and industrious; but your character is only half 
 formed, and I can but pray God that my past teach- 
 ings and your mother's prayers may have left a deep- 
 er imprint upon your hearts than temptation can 
 efface. You, William, are the oldest and most pru- 
 dent, and under the watchful eye of Uncle Hilgedorf 
 will have little opportunity to go astray. He stands 
 alone in the world, and his love for your mother, his 
 only sister, will assure you a kindly reception. See 
 that you do your duty and repay with gratitude the 
 old man's kindness. Who knows, but some day you 
 may have the, opportunity to take charge of his busi- 
 ness, and blessings result to you from that which now 
 seems such misfortune. 
 
 "And you, Charles, shall finally have your wish 
 to go as builder's apprentice to Master Arnold at 
 Munich. You would have had an easier road to suc- 
 cess had I been able to instruct you a few years 
 longer; but who knows, the very obstacles you en- 
 counter and the laborious road you must travel, may 
 spur you to greater effort to reach the summit. Let 
 self-reliance, with trust in God, be your watchword. 
 You know I have often told you that the oak stand- 
 
 6
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 ing isolated and exposed to the whole force of the 
 storms grows the toughest fibre. 
 
 "Eda, my little girl," and the voice of the school- 
 master broke, while huge tears rolled down his fur- 
 rowed cheeks, "how can we let you go ! And yet 
 how grateful we must be to the kind lady who offers 
 you so good a home. Yes, go to her, God bless her ! 
 She will watch over you like a mother, although your 
 own mother's heart will nearly break. You will re- 
 ceive a good education, far better than we could have 
 given you, and eventually stand elevated to a social 
 sphere aibove your mother and me. Keep but pure 
 your heart, and the sorrow of this separation will 
 blossom into joy for your parents. For a time you 
 can come to see us often ; after that well, we will 
 not meet further trouble until it comes to us. 
 
 "Phillip and Fritzie we must keep ; and with a lit- 
 tle closer economy we will not starve, although we 
 may sometimes go hungry." 
 
 This was but a typical scene of thousands of others 
 occurring in the old Fatherland in those times. Dire 
 necessity severed the warmest family ties, and scat- 
 tered its members in search of subsistence. Thou- 
 sands came to America, and finding here welcome and 
 plenty, made it their home. 
 
 The separation in the Bertram family followed 
 very shortly after the meeting above referred to. 
 William went to his Uncle Hilgedorf in Dresden, 
 who, as the only other child of Barbara's father, haid 
 become his successor in the book business. Charles 
 went as apprentice to Master Arnold in Munich, and 
 Fda was taken into the home of Mrs. Baldwin, the
 
 PLUCK 
 
 wife of U. S. consul Richard Baldwin, then stationed 
 at Hof. Mrs. Baldwin was of German descent, in 
 fact, her parents had been born in that very village. 
 One day while searching out their native hearth, 
 she met little Eda and was charmed by the sweet, 
 earnest face and sensible answers of the child. Hav- 
 ing no children of her own, and hearing of the Ber- 
 trams' trouble, she concluded to offer the little one 
 a home and opportunity for education. This left the 
 schoolmaster's family reduced to himself and wife, 
 the little ten-year-old Phillip and five-year-old 
 "Fritzie." 
 
 The summer came and passed, and the following 
 winter brought added distress to mainy families. 
 Adam Bertram toiled and starved himself in order 
 that his wife and the little ones might not suffer too 
 much. After his daily labors in school were con- 
 cluded, he would often work into the still hours of 
 the night at some drafting or copying he had secured 
 from the neighboring town, while his eyes ached for 
 want of proper light and his fingers grew stiff with 
 the cold. He looked thin and careworn, but the com- 
 pressed lips showed that his spirit did not flinch. 
 
 Thus the winter slowly passed, and with the dawn 
 of spring new courage awoke. Many determined to 
 exhaust their last means to purchase a passage to 
 America, whence most cheerful news reached them 
 from those who had gone before. Among others, a 
 neighbor with his family were going, and the sons 
 were daily exciting their comrades by glowing de- 
 scriptions of this land of promise which they had 
 never seen, but which their imagination, aided by 
 
 8
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 letters from friends, caused them to believe to be 
 like unto the "promised land." The long trip on the 
 sailing boats and the fear of the great, unknown 
 ocean caused many to hesitaite ; but the dread of mil- 
 itary service, to which they were liable to be called, 
 in a measure offset this ; and, added to it all, was the 
 spice of secretly evading the authorities because 
 military law would not permit the emigration of 
 able-bodied youths after they had passed their 
 fifteenth year. 
 
 Little Phillip listened eagerly to the older boys 
 and men, and the pictures of the new world had an 
 enchanting attraction for him. He knew that his 
 father was hardly able to support him, because, al- 
 though he had himself suffered little want, he had 
 often seen his mother weep, and once in reply to his 
 sympathetic question she had answered between her 
 sobs : "Oh, Phillip ! father is working and starving 
 himself to death!" Since then he had eaten less, 
 claiming he was not hungry, and had found he could 
 really get on very well with much less than he was 
 formerly wont to. 
 
 But his father's and mother's looks still worried 
 him and he thought that with one less to feed they 
 might have more to eat themselves. Phillip was a 
 bright, sturdy little fellow, and, while never quar- 
 relsome himself, was looked up to by his little school- 
 mates as the quickest and strongest boy of his age 
 in the village. Many a time had boyish injustice or 
 cruelty in another brought a flash to his blue-gray 
 eyes and caused a quick blow of a solid little fist to 
 emphasize his disapproval. 
 
 9
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Then, too, he had often heard from his mother the 
 adventures and hardship through which his father 
 had passed when but a boy, and the fact that at that 
 time his father was a few years older than he him- 
 self now was did not dampen his courage. Fear he 
 had never known; not even when the angry eye of 
 that father rested upon him for some boyish prank 
 and he knew to a certainty that the strap would meet 
 him in the evening. He had always taken his pun- 
 ishment with far less emotion than words of praise. 
 
 What wonder then that the little fellow, one even- 
 ing, after hearing the plans of the others all arranged, 
 rushed into the house and startled his parents with 
 the statement : "I'm going to America !" His mother 
 looked up in alarm, but the father only smiled and 
 answered: "Well, Phillip, you can go after supper, 
 but be sure to be back by bed-time." Phillip was not, 
 however, to be so lightly put off. He was in dead 
 earnest, and sturdily repeated his statement. Herr 
 Bertram then thought best to treat the boy with more 
 seriousness. "My son," said he, "do you know where 
 America is?" 
 
 "Yes, father," was the quick response, "it is on 
 the other side of the big water." 
 
 "And have you any idea how big this water is? 
 Let me show you," and he reached for an old atlas 
 that had seen many years' service in his school. 
 "Look, here is a map of the world; here is Ba,varia; 
 right here on this spot is where we live; here is 
 Munich, which looks as though you could reach it 
 with one step, and yet you know how many days we 
 had to walk to get there when you and I visited your 
 
 10
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 brother last fall. You have heard of Berlin and 
 Paris, and how f ar away they are from us ; but, look, 
 here on the map they seem close by. And England, 
 which you know is still farther away, and that, to 
 reach it, one must cross a part of the big water; see 
 how close to us that looks on the map. And the holy 
 land even, where our Saviour lived, does not seem so 
 far away when you look at this map. But America ! 
 See this body of water, bigger than all Europe, lies 
 between it and us. Why, roll this map to make it 
 round like the world, thus, and you will see that 
 America is on the opposite side. This greait ocean 
 one must cross in a ship which the storms will toss 
 like an egg shell, and often those that set out upon it 
 are engulfed with the ship, and never heard from 
 again. Drive the thought from your mind, my son, 
 until you are older and better able to face dangers." 
 
 Phillip had eagerly followed his father's explana,- 
 tiou of the map, which, for the first time, became a 
 representation of living realities to him; and that 
 evening he studied it as never before. But not for a 
 moment did its vast distances disturb him. Others 
 had crossed the great ocean in safety, and their let- 
 ters kept coming safely back; why could not he do 
 the same? 
 
 The next morning he again went to his father with 
 the request to let him go. The latter began to realize 
 that the boy was in eiarnest, and sternly told him to 
 think no more about it, because he would never con- 
 sent. He knew the persistence of the little fellow, 
 and thought best to crush the desire at once. 
 
 11
 
 PLUCK 
 
 But that evening Phillip began anew and begged 
 that they should let him go with the neighbors who 
 were to start in two weeks while his mother wept 
 and the father observed him in stern silence. Every 
 boyish argument that his imagination suggested in 
 support of his safety and future success be brought 
 to bear, and finally, weeping, poured forth his grief 
 at the suffering of his mother and father in order 
 that he and his little brother might have enough to 
 eat. The sternness faded from the father's looks, as 
 he impulsively clasped his son to his breast, and for 
 a moment all three silently wept. 
 
 "It eanot be, my child," he finally said, "it would 
 break your mother's heart to let you go from her 
 with so little chance ,of seeing you again in this 
 world. And how could I ever again rest with easy 
 conscience if I permitted a child, which God has 
 given me to guide to maturity, to go out penniless 
 into an unknown world with its dangers, its suffer- 
 ings and tempations. !No, no! It cannot be; give 
 up the thought, my son. We have at least enough 
 to live and in time a change for the better may come." 
 
 "Father, fear not for me. Have you not often told 
 me 'Gott verlaesst die Seinen nie !' And I know He 
 will care for me if I go with your and mother's bless- 
 ings. Oh, consent, dear parents, and, although we 
 will miss each other much, the day will come when 
 you will bless the hour you let me go." The tears 
 had not ceased to flow, but his voice had in it a 
 prophetic ring and irresistible pleading. 
 
 "Go to bed now, my Phillip, and leave me alone 
 with your mother," was his father's only response. 
 
 12
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 Obediently the boy left them. His heart was 
 heavy, and long he lay awake listening to the sub- 
 dued sound of the voices of his parents in the adjoin- 
 ing room. Fritz had gone to bed, and father and 
 mother were alone. Sometimes he could hear his 
 mother sobbing, and again his father's deep voice in 
 tones of encouragement. At last he heard a heavy 
 step in his parents 7 bed room and knew they were 
 retiring. A moment later he heard the door of his 
 own room softly open and his mother gliding up to 
 his bed, sink down, upon her knees, weeping bitterly. 
 
 "Mother," he whispered. 
 
 "My son, my son, how can I bear it! You have 
 won over your father to believe it best for you to go 
 and that he can trust you. I, too, trust my little boy, 
 and know God will protect him wherever he may be. 
 But, oh ! It breaks my heart to part with you, per- 
 haps never to see you again !" 
 
 Almost was he won from his purpose, though he 
 now knew his father no longer opposed. And often 
 he was tempted to cry out: "Don't weep, mother, 
 dear, I will not go." But an unknown influence 
 seemed to seal his lips and cause him to bear his own 
 grief as a necessity. 
 
 Long mother and child wept, clasped in each oth- 
 er's arms. Finally she kissed him again and bade 
 him go to sleep, while she returned to her husband. 
 
 In the morning Phillip awoke late and found his 
 parents and little brother sitting at their breakfast. 
 It was not much "coffee," made of browned rye and 
 maize, and "black-bread," composed the fare. He 
 greeted his father and brother and kissed his mother. 
 
 13
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Her eyes were swollen aiid she looked as though lit- 
 tle slumber had visited her pillow. He said grace 
 silently, as he had been taught, when late at table, 
 and started at his frugal meal. 
 
 After a short time, his father, who had quietly con- 
 tinued his meal, said : "Phillip, if we consent to let 
 you go, how do you expect to get the means to carry 
 out your purpose ?" 
 
 The memory of the midnight visit of his mother, 
 and emotions of grief were still strong within him, 
 and he answered timidly, "Father, if you will let me 
 go to Mr. Baldwin, I know he can help me, and Win- 
 ters will take care of me on the way if I need it." 
 
 Mr. Bertram's eyes brightened. He had not 
 thought of Mr. Baldwin. He knew, of course, that 
 Winters, who were soon to start, would do all they 
 could to help his son and care for him on the trip ; 
 but Mr. Baldwin, whose home was in America, could 
 do much to help him after he got there. It gave him 
 more confidence, too, in the sagacity of Phillip, and 
 he readily gave the requested permission. "Kemem- 
 ber, however, I do not yet consent to your going to 
 America. Go to Mr. Baldwin, go alone it mil be 
 good experience for you and we will determine 
 when we hear the result of your visit." 
 
 There was no time to be lost Winters were to 
 start in two weeks, and Hof was at least a three days' 
 tramp distant. One day Phillip would rest there, 
 and it would take him three more days to return. 
 Mother Bertram tied a small loaf of bread in a blue 
 cotton handkerchief, while his father gave him direc- 
 tions a to the route; and, as soon as breakfast was 
 
 14
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 finished, he started on his long tramp. Neither par- 
 ent feared that harm could come to the boy on the 
 way, or that he would suffer want. Though poverty 
 prevailed throughout the land, the weary traveler 
 was never refused sustenance or a place to rest. 
 Warm hospitality, which no degree of poverty could 
 chill, was one of the ruling traits in the character of 
 these people. 
 
 Steadily Phillip trudged along, carrying his little 
 bundle in one hand and a stout staff in the other. At 
 night he obtained shelter and a warm bed from some 
 kind heart in whatever village he would happen to 
 be, and when in reply to the many questions that 
 were put to him, he would tell them of his errand, 
 fthe pluck of the boy made many a mother's heart 
 throb with emotion, and her sympathy speed him on, 
 well laden with food for the day. 
 
 Thus he arrived at Hof on the evening of the third 
 day, and though weary and foot-sore, he had nearly 
 all of his little loaf of bread left. He had no diffi- 
 culty in finding the home of Mr. Baldwin and was 
 received with warm welcome. Eda shed tears of joy, 
 and Mrs. BaldAvin gave him a cup of genuine coffee 
 and a good supper. 
 
 During supper he told the reason of his coming, 
 and great was the astonishment of the consul and his 
 good wife ! That was a case of American pluck ! "Yes, 
 sir, you are the boy for America. Such timber we 
 want. Such spirit is building America and making 
 it great I'll help you, my boy, with all my heart." 
 And the jovial face of Uncle Sam's representative 
 fairly beamed with pleasmre. 
 
 15
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Now have your visit out with your sister, and 
 to-morrow I'll take you to iny office and we'll arrange 
 the whole business. I'm going out for a while, and 
 maybe I can interest someone else who can do even 
 more for you than I." 
 
 After Mr. Baldwin had left, the three sat amd 
 talked for a long time. Phillip had to tell his sister 
 all about home and his parents and little Fritzie; 
 and, when he told of the careworn looks of the for- 
 mer, she could not restrain her tears. Mrs. Baldwin 
 talked much of America and endeavored to give him 
 such insight into the life there as she thought he could 
 comprehend. lie listened eagerly and stored away 
 many useful suggestions. And when Mrs. Baldwin 
 informed him that they would probably return to 
 America in three years and bring Etda with them, and 
 that with the consent of her parents they expected to 
 adopt her as their own, he was happy enough to cry 
 for joy. 
 
 That night he slept in the finest and softest bed 
 he had ever seen in his life. He awoke late, and was 
 surprised that he was not too late for breakfast Ac- 
 customed to arise at the break of day, city life showed 
 him its first distinction. Mr. Baldwin was the last 
 to appear, a,nid he greeted him with a hearty, "Good 
 morning, my little man; up bright and early, I 
 see; well, when you get to be my age you'll think 
 more of comfort and less of sunrise; good morning, 
 Katie, I missed your soft arms, or I might have slept 
 longer. And Eda, did you sleep well, are you glad to 
 see your brother ? Well, you see now you have got to 
 go with us and adopt me for a papa. We can't let 
 
 16
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 Phillip die of homesickness, or get into mischief in 
 the strange world to which he is going. And going 
 he is, ain't you, Phillip? I've got it all arranged. 
 But let's have breakfast first, then I'll show you the 
 city and tell you all about it," and with a happy smile 
 he led the way to the breakfast table. 
 
 During breakfast he informed his wife that he 
 intended to introduce Phillip to Dr. Lawrence, who 
 was expected to return that day from Karlsbad, 
 where he had been with, his wife. If it should so 
 chance that the doctor would take the same boat on 
 his return trip to New York as the one the Winters 
 were going to take, he could be of great help to 
 Phillip. Besides this, on the following day he would 
 hire a coach and take Phillip home, as he wanted to 
 have a talk with Phillip's father and mother. He 
 thought he could overcome their last scruples and 
 make the parting less hard. He saw no reason why 
 such a boy should not succeed in making his way in 
 America ; why, there were hundreds of little urchins 
 swarming in the streets of New York City, who were 
 earning a living and often helping a sick parent. All 
 it required was pluck, and of that Phillip showed he 
 had plenty. 
 
 With such hopeful words he spiced the meal, and 
 when after breakfast he took Phillip to see the great 
 sights of the little city, and rolled off an endless stock 
 of information and advice, the boy Was perfectly 
 happy. 
 
 They did not see Dr. Lawrence; but a letter ar- 
 rived that his party had engaged passage in the 
 "Salier," which was to leave Bremen on the 29th, 
 
 17
 
 PLUCK 
 
 and that he would come to say good-bye before he 
 sailed. This was joyful news, because it was the 
 same boat Winters were to take. 
 
 During the day Mr. Baldwin bought the lad a good 
 suit of clothes and a little wooden trunk. He said 
 he would also give him some money before he started, 
 which he could return when he had grown rich ! This 
 Phillip readily promised, never doubting, with the 
 assurance of youth, his future ability to do so. 
 
 After another happy evening with the family and 
 a tearful and affectionate farewell from his sister 
 and Mrs. Baldwin in the morning, Phillip started 
 with his new-found friend for his parents' home. 
 The kindness of the Baldwins, what he had seen and 
 heard, the trip he was now making, were like a reve- 
 lation of a new life to him. Though years of trials 
 and disappointments followed, in which he met many 
 good and kind people, as well as ill-disposed ones, 
 the vision of a better human existence than he had 
 heretofore seen, which was now presented to his view, 
 did much to form his ideal and nerve him to accom- 
 plishment. Many times in after years his heart beat 
 with gratitude at the recollection of that kindly, jolly 
 face; and the confidence in the protecting hand of 
 Providence which the experience of these few days 
 imperceptibly inspired, enabled him to bravely meet 
 adversity when it came. 
 
 I will not dwell upon the visit of Mr. Baldwin at 
 the schoolmaster's house, nor upon the preparations 
 for the voyage, nor yet upon the parting ! There are 
 moments in life so sacredly sad and laden with grief, 
 that every touch, of thought, even, seems like tearing 
 
 18
 
 THAT LITTLE GERMAN HOME ACROSS THE SEA 
 
 the bandages from a half-healed wound. Anguish 
 may open the fountain of tears at the deathbed of a 
 beloved child, yet the consoling thought of its re- 
 moval from the cares, dangers, temptations, and sor- 
 rows of human life to the bosom of the Heavenly 
 Father, casts its balm into the wounded heart. But 
 the loving parent who sends his little child, too young 
 to be safe, yet old enough to be tied with every heart- 
 string to his own, out into the dangers and tempta- 
 tions of life, without an earthly guiding hand, and 
 under the belief never to meet it again in this world 
 because forsooth it is its only chance for a success- 
 ful life that parent is a hero at heart and has 
 greater faith in Providence than he who intrusts to 
 Him his dead. 
 
 Let it, therefore, suffice to briefly relate that Mr. 
 Baldwin's visit resulted in convincing Phillip's par- 
 ents that it was their duty to the boy, while the op- 
 portunity offered, to let him go ; and he was so enthu- 
 siastic and spoke so encouragingly of the future, that 
 they were almost cheerful while he remained. He 
 did not deem it wise to say anything about his inten- 
 tions as to Eda at present; but Phillip told his 
 mother. While this added to her sorrow, it was still 
 a consolation to know that at least two of her chil- 
 dren would be near each other. The money for the 
 trip was advanced by Mr. Baldwin, and Phillip was 
 also provided with letters of introduction to friends 
 in Detroit, who would undoubtedly assist him in ob- 
 taining employment or a home. 
 
 Whatever a mother's love could suggest and their 
 circumstances permit was provided for him. The 
 
 19
 
 PLUCK 
 
 linen she had made and saved up for years, and all 
 that might be useful for her boy, was yielded up. 
 They never knew how they loved this little fellow 
 until now when he was going away, probably never 
 to see them again ! And when the awful day of part- 
 ing came ; when the last prayer had been said together 
 on bended knees, and the last blessing given, and kiss 
 bestowed upon the beloved child, how dreary and 
 desolate did father and mother fall into each other's 
 aa*ms and weep ! 
 
 Let us drop the veil ! Phillip, to his dying day, 
 saw his dear old parents standing in that sacred door- 
 way, where he had known much childish happiness, 
 and the sight of their grief and love ever steeled him 
 to walk the path of rectitude. 
 
 It was Tuesday, March 17th, 1845, when Phillip 
 looked upon his little village for the last time; and 
 many eventful years should pass ere he would see it 
 again. How sad was his heart, while incessantly the 
 tears coursed down his cheeks. But the thought of 
 abandoning his purpose never arose. 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE OCEAN. 
 
 T 
 
 HE three Winter boys had quietly left by 
 different routes two days before, and un- 
 less intercepted by the military author- 
 ities, were to meet the rest of the party 
 at Bremen. The trip northward to the sea-coast 
 passed without incident. A part of the way was trav- 
 eled by team, and, when the nearest railway was 
 reached, continued by rail to Bremen. 
 
 Everything was new and interesting to our young 
 friend, and he found little time to indulge his grief. 
 When he saw the great ships at the wharves and the 
 blue and seemingly limitless sea beyond, a sense of 
 awe at the vastness of the world and the daring of 
 men took possession of him. He was not afraid, but 
 he began to realize how great a step he had taken. 
 
 John and Adam Winter had already arrived, but 
 they had no news of their brother Joseph. It was 
 time to go on board ship and they could not Wait for 
 hirau He was the oldest and had his passage ticket 
 for the voyage, so that, if he succeeded in eluding 
 capture, he could follow in the next boat, which was 
 to leave two weeks later. This was a common exper- 
 ience, and the officials of the ship company promptly 
 
 21
 
 PLUCK 
 agreed to transfer his ticket to another boat when he 
 
 O 
 
 arrived. Even if caught^ Mr. Winter knew that 
 Joseph would, sooner or later, succeed in escaping 
 the vigilance of the authorities and would follow. 
 
 The party, therefore, went on board, whence their 
 luggage had already been transferred, and were 
 shown to their quarters in the steerage. There they 
 found several hundred other emigrants busy arrang- 
 ing their effects. There, too, they found aai odor 
 such as their nostrils had never before ventured to 
 communicate to their stomachs! Oily smelling, 
 mephitic, impregnated with the clinging impurities 
 left by thousands who had preceded them, and which 
 no amount of washing could entirely eradicate it 
 was an atmosphere very much tending, well to 
 economy of diet among the passengers. 
 
 Phillip hurried back to the deck and saw the 
 anchor being raised and the sails set Soon the big 
 ship began to glide smoothly through the glittering 
 water. There was only a light breeze and the motion 
 of the vessel was barely perceptible. The passengers 
 now crowded to the deck to take a long last look at 
 the shores of the Fatherland, that land of their birth, 
 of the happy days of childhood and youth their 
 home till now and still the home of those that were 
 dearest, the land they loved and ever would love, 
 though now it could no longer nourish them ! Many 
 a tear attested the emotion that filled their hearts; 
 and when one sad, powerful voice was heard start- 
 ing that magnificent song commencing: 
 
 "Nun ade du mein lieb Heimathland, 
 
 Lieb Heimathland, ade !" 
 
 22
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 it was taken up by the whole crowd of assembled 
 emigrants, and in magnificent volume and overpower- 
 ing emotion sung to the finish, only to be repeated 
 again and again until the last glimpse of land had 
 disappeared below the horizon. 
 
 Gradually the crowd dispersed, most of them going 
 below to complete their arrangements for the night. 
 The sun would soon set, and Phillip stood leaning 
 against the rail sad at heart. He was thinking of 
 home; he realized that now he could not turn back 
 if he would, and the release from the resolution which 
 had brought him thus far, left him weak and for the 
 first time afraid of the future. And when the real- 
 ization of all he had left and lost came over him, 
 what wonder that he wept as though his heart would 
 break. He was after all but a child, and though 
 strong, intelligent and naturally brave, his heart was 
 wrapped up in the mother on whose loving breast his 
 childish sorrows had always found relief. Others, 
 too, were weeping, and when Phillip saw them scat- 
 tered about, singly or in groups, he remembered his 
 mother's parting injunction, always to pray when in 
 trouble, and keep it up until he felt relief. And 
 then he silently prayed, while the tears dried on his 
 cheeks and he felt courage returning to his heart. 
 
 He had been thus engaged until the sun's golden 
 rim touched the western waters, when a hand was 
 laid gently on his shoulder and a kindly voice said 
 to him: 
 
 "Is this Phillip Bertram f" 
 
 The boy looked up and saw before him a gentle- 
 man of medium height, about thirty years of age, 
 
 23
 
 PLUCK 
 
 with a rather pale and studious-looking face. He 
 wore a pair of gold rimmed spectacles and his eyes 
 and mouth had that gentle expression that mirrors 
 a sympathetic soul. Somewhat startled that this 
 stranger should know his name, he slowly answered : 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I thought so from the description my friend gave 
 me. I am Doctor Francis Lawrence, of whom Mr. 
 Baldwin told you, and would have looked for you be- 
 fore had I not been detained by a sick passenger 
 whom I chanced to meet Come down below now 
 and let me present you to my wife and little daughter, 
 My wife cannot speak German very well, but I be- 
 lieve you will get along together." 
 
 He smiled with his closing remark, and led the 
 way to the saloon of the cabin passengers. 
 
 Phillip followed and was introduced to Mrs. Law- 
 rence. She was a delicate looking woman, and the 
 pallor and spirituality of her countenance was only 
 equalled by the intensely vivid portrayal of a lovely 
 soul. She took and held the lad's hands while she 
 talked in fairly good German, asking him about his 
 friends, his parents and his former life, until in her 
 motherly way she had coaxed him to tell her his 
 whole past. Dr. Lawrence listened with interest, and 
 little Bessie sat silently in her mother's lap. 
 
 Phillip thought he had never seen so sweet a child. 
 And truly she was a little da,rling ! Just four yea,rs 
 old the previous Tuesday; a little body perfect in 
 its proportions; eyes round and blue as the skies; 
 lips red as cherries and hair like gold darkened with 
 copper alloy ; and such a happy, lovely smile ! No, 
 
 24
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 he had never seen a child so beautiful. Just like a 
 little fairy, as he had seen them pictured, without 
 that vacant doll-like expression the fairy pictures al- 
 ways hald. 
 
 And then, this part of the ship was as neat and 
 cleanly and almost as well furnished as Mr. Bald- 
 win's house. The awful smell of the steerage was 
 not there. How he would like to spend a part of 
 his time with this good lady and the sweet little 
 child ; and perhaps he could learn some English from 
 her. 
 
 Thus, when Dr. Lawrence asked him whether he 
 could do anything to make him more comfortable on 
 the trip, his quick response was a request to be per- 
 mitted to visit them often, which was, of course, read- 
 ily granted. 
 
 That night, when Phillip retired to his berth, 
 without taking any supper and be it told very many 
 had no appetite that evening he included three more 
 in his prayers. And long those prayers were! All 
 his little life he reviewed, where he had done wrong 
 and had been forgiven, where he had been in. trouble 
 and had been helped out, until his heart overflowed 
 with gratitude and he prayed that no matter what 
 trouble might come to him that he be permitted to 
 keep his faith in God's love, and he would bear all 
 the rest. Finally, with prayer still in his heart, the 
 gentle rocking of the boat put him to sleep. 
 
 In the morning a violent jamb of his knees against 
 the rear of his berth awoke him, only to find a new 
 sensation taking possession. He felt as he did when 
 he and other boys used to have great sport jumping 
 
 25
 
 PLUCK 
 
 from the cross beams in the neighbor's bam down 
 upon the hay, or as he felt when in the great swing 
 at the "Wiesenfest." What a delightful sensation 
 to be thus lifted high up and as suddenly let down to 
 an unknown (depth, only to be again unexpectedly 
 lifted! 
 
 He jumped out of his berth and started to dress. 
 In a moment he became aware of sounds of distress 
 in every direction. Almost all were still in their 
 berths. He hastily put on his clothes and, somewhat 
 dizzy, sought the fresher air of the deck. The sight 
 that met his astonished gaze was alarming, but grand. 
 The big vessel was tossed up and down by huge waves, 
 which, as they came along, looked as though they 
 would bury it out of sight. But it would always rise 
 to the top only to be let down into a deep hollow, 
 from which it would rise again the next moment. 
 
 Phillip saw that there were less sails set than on 
 the evening before, and, suddenly, he was startled to 
 see sailers away up on the mainmast at work draw- 
 ing in sail. He had no idea that men would dare 
 climb up there in such wind and heavy sea, and his 
 face flushed to see such courage. He heard the cap- 
 tain giving commands and watched the sailors' quick 
 responsive acts. Here was battle with uncontrollable 
 elements, fearlessly fought, in the face of constant 
 danger to life. For a while he observed them ; then 
 feeling refreshed by the air, he carefully worked his 
 way to the first cabin saloon. It was deserted, and 
 he was about to retire, when a steward approached 
 and informed him that steerage passengers were not 
 permitted to come in there without invitation.
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 "But he has a standing invitation," spoke up Dr. 
 Lawrence, who just then came out of his stateroom 
 and overheard the steward's remark. "I have seen 
 the captain and this young man is to be permitted to 
 come and go in and out here as he may wish. Good 
 morning, Phillip, did you rest well, and are you not 
 seasick ?" 
 
 "Thank you, I slept very well and am not sick, al- 
 though I was dizzy when I first got up. How is 
 Mrs. Lawrence and Bessie ?" 
 
 "They are not very well this morning," said Dr. 
 Lawrence, with a troubled look. "But I hope it is 
 only seasickness. I am glad you are not seasick. Do 
 you wish to go in to see them ?" 
 
 Phillip answered that he did, and the doctor led 
 the way to his wife's stateroom. He found! Mrs. 
 Lawrence very much distressed by the motion of the 
 ship, and unable to arise. Bessie looked pale, but 
 did not seem sick. Mrs. Lawrence greeted Phillip 
 kindly and complimented him on his seamanship. 
 
 "The first requisite of a good sailor," she said, "is 
 not to get seasick." 
 
 Phillip was full of sympathy and wished to wait 
 on them. He said he had always waited on his 
 mother when she was sick. He offered to get them 
 something to eat, whereupon Mrs. Lawrence turned 
 her face to the wall and groaned, at the same time 
 motioning him to retire from the room. The doctor 
 soon followed and smilingly enlightened our young 
 friend that in seasickness the last thing the afflicted 
 Wanted to hear or think of was "something to eat." 
 Phillip had not the benefit of personal experience 
 
 27
 
 PLUCK 
 
 and we can readily forgive his mistake on account 
 of his good intentions. 
 
 He went back on deck with the doctor, and found 
 that the storm had somewhat increased. Occasion- 
 ally a wave would splash its foam onto the deck and 
 it was dangerous and difficult to move about They 
 had been there but a few moments when the steerage 
 breakfast bell sounded. Phillip's appetite had been 
 growing ever since he got over his first dizziness, and, 
 when the doctor told him of the meaning of the bell, 
 he excused himself and started forward. 
 
 He found that but few had responded to the call 
 and most of those promptly turned back when the 
 smell of the victuals greeted them. Not so Phillip ! 
 He had not eaten supper the evening before and the 
 salt air seemed to give him a ravenous appetite. The 
 steward was his friend from the moment he saw 
 him eat! 
 
 After breakfast he hunted up his friends, the Win- 
 ters, but found them all prostrate, without particular 
 wish of any kind for him to gratify, except to be let 
 alone or be permitted to die. He left them and 
 returned to Dr. Lawrence's stateroom. The wind 
 was still increasing, and he had great difficulty to 
 make his way along the deck. But he reached there 
 safely and entered, after the feeble response of "Gome 
 in" had followed his knock. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence was feeling worse and was glad 
 to have him come and keep Bessie company. The 
 child was still pale and now looked ill, but gave no 
 sign of seasickness. Dr. Lawrence had been called 
 to see the sick passenger he had met the day before. 
 
 28
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 All that day Phillip spent with Mrs. Lawrence and 
 Bessie, barely taking time for his meals. Their com- 
 panionship was so homelike to the boy. Dr. Law- 
 rence came in now and then to see whether he could 
 do anything for them, but spent most of the day with 
 the sick passenger, whose symptoms he was anxiously 
 watching with Dr. Reinhart, the ship's physician. 
 
 The wind had shifted and steadily increased the 
 farther the ship advanced into the North Seai, until 
 now it was blowing a gale from the east Enormous 
 waves were chasing each other and tossed the ship 
 from crest to valley as though it were a feather. A 
 chilling mist and flying storm clouds completed a pic- 
 ture of as wild a scene as man ever beheld. Gulls 
 were flocking by the hundreds aibout the ship, and 
 now and then resting themselves upon the spars and 
 rigging. The passengers were not permitted to go 
 on deck for fear of being washed overboard by the 
 waves, which continually swept it with vast volumes 
 of water. The skylights were securely covered with 
 heavy oak plank, and the only light permitted came 
 from little metal lamps, burning an ill-smelling lard 
 oil, which were here and there securely fastened to 
 walls or other supports. 
 
 The night that followed this day few of the pas- 
 sengers ever forgot; because, although it was par- 
 alleled by others equally terrible during their long 
 voyage, it was their first experience, and fully met 
 the predictions so often made by those whose interest 
 opposed emigration, and who had endeavored to dis- 
 suade them from it by working on their fears. 
 
 29
 
 PLUCK 
 
 It must be remembered that during those years 
 their government used every means in its power to 
 prevent the people from emigrating, and the terrors 
 of the sea were exaggerated to the utmost Local pa- 
 pers were permitted to publish only disasters, deaths 
 and misfortunes occurring on the trip and in Amer- 
 ica ; and it was only the private letters of friends, who 
 had preceded them, that in a measure counteracted 
 this influence. But dread and fear remained ; and the 
 emigrants on the "Salier" therefore felt their courage 
 deserting in the face of such vivid corroboration of 
 predictions of evil. Pitched and tossed about, death- 
 ly sick, confined below, with only the dim oil-light 
 serving rather to make darkness more perceptible 
 than to dispel it, they were a prey to mortal terror; 
 and loud weeping and praying took the place of 
 sleep. 
 
 Phillip remained with his friends until Dr. Law- 
 rence returned at about eleven o'clock that night. 
 He had been taking turns with the ship's physician 
 in watching with the sick passenger. The symptoms 
 were so extraordinary that the closest observation 
 was necessary to determine the nature of the disease 
 so as to discover it in time to take precautions 
 if necessary for the safety of the rest of the pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 When Phillip reached the steerage he called at 
 the berths of his friends, the Winters, and found them 
 all overcome with terror except Mrs. Winter, who, 
 from sheer exhaustion, had fallen asleep. He knew 
 not how to encourage them, nor did he feel very cour- 
 ageous himself. The weeping and wailing in the 
 
 30
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 midst of sucli violent tossing and groaning of the ship 
 were sufficient to make many manly hearts quail; 
 and Phillip sought his bed, or properly speaking, 
 shelf, and wedging himself in place with the pillows 
 to keep from being thrown back and forth with each 
 motion of the ship, forgot his surroundings in prayer, 
 which, as usual, eoided in sleep. 
 
 In the morning the storm had not decreased, but 
 neither had it increased ; and the dreadful night hav- 
 ing safely passed and daylight come again, hope re- 
 vived. All were still confined below; and it was 
 three days later before the storm had sufficiently 
 abated to admit of passengers coming onto the deck. 
 
 During the three days the symptoms of the sick 
 passenger left no further doubt that he was afflicted 
 with that disease so much dreaded on ship-board, 
 smallpox. The general breaking out of this disease 
 meant not only danger to all and death to many, but 
 it might compel the survivors after reaching America 
 to be detained in quarantine for many weeks. The 
 passengers were happily in ignorance of this new 
 danger, until the worst of the storm had passed, or 
 their terror would have known no bounds. Every pos- 
 sible precaution was taken to prevent the spread of 
 the disease. So far as could be done the sick man 
 was isolated from the rest, and a guard, stationed at 
 his door, who kept all but the physicians at a distance. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence remained confined to her berth and 
 Bessie was listless and feverish. Phillip was their 
 constant attendant. It kept his mind from dwelling 
 too much on thoughts of home and helped him keep 
 up his spirits. There was little inclination for con- 
 
 31
 
 PLUCK 
 
 versation, and for hours at a time he sat beside little 
 Bessie's berth, gently stroking her burning hands or 
 bathing her feverish brow with cool water. At night 
 Dr. Lawrence attended to them and Phillip sought 
 his steerage bunk. 
 
 On the third day of the storm Dr. Lawrence called 
 him aside and told him that he could not come to the 
 cabin department any more, at the same time in- 
 forming him that smallpox had broken out and a 
 strict quarantine would be maintained between them 
 and the steerage passengers. He also ca,utioned him 
 to say nothing about it to the emigrants. 
 
 The boy was startled, but instantly begged that he 
 might be permitted to come little Bessie was sick 
 and his presense always seemed to soothe her. Be- 
 sides, Mrs. Lawrence was almost helpless with sea- 
 sickness, while the doctor's services would be much re- 
 quired by the passengers. His father had him and 
 all the family vaccinated the year before, when small- 
 pox had broken out in their village, and he was not 
 in the least afraid. 
 
 Dr. Lawrence thought for a moment, then told 
 him to wait there until he had seen the captain. In 
 a snort time he returned, and, to Phillip's joy, in- 
 formed him that the captain consented that he might 
 have all his effects transferred to the cabin depart- 
 ment, and might occupy the vacant berth in the doc- 
 tor's own stateroom ; but that thereafter he could not 
 again visit the steerage until all danger of the spread 
 of the disease was over. This the captain had readily 
 granted without extra compensation on account of the 
 
 32
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 assistance the doctor was rendering the ship's phy- 
 sician. 
 
 Phillip returned to the steerage after his effects, 
 and told the Winters that the captain had given him 
 permission to remove to the cabin so that he could 
 more readily wait on the little sick girl of Dr. Law- 
 rence; and that he would visit them again as soon as 
 he could. Their condition was such that they took 
 little interest in anything, and Phillip, therefore, 
 had no difficulty in concealing from them the true 
 state of affairs. 
 
 How happy he felt that he could now be with his 
 sick friends by day and night; and how he would try 
 to repay them with devoted attentions ! And the op- 
 portunity soon came. 
 
 For a week there was no evidence of the spread of 
 the disease, and hope was entertained that the threat- 
 ening calamity would be avoided. By order of the 
 captain every passenger had been promptly vaccina- 
 ted ; the emigrants simply being informed that it was 
 one of the regulations of the ship, so as not to arouse 
 their apprehensions. And it was owing to these wise 
 precautions, promptly taken, that the subsequent 
 mortality was so light The emigrants or steerage 
 passengers, though surrounded by the most adverse 
 conditions of ventilation and attendance, really suf- 
 fered the least from the disease when it reached them, 
 because nearly all had been vaccinated before under 
 the compulsory laws of their country. 
 
 During these first ten or eleven days of the trip 
 the weather had repeatedly changed. After the three 
 days' storm, commencing on the early morning of the 
 
 33
 
 PLUCK 
 
 second day, comparatively fair weather followed, al- 
 though the wind still kept the sea in sufficient commo- 
 tion to confine those inclined to seasickness to their 
 berths. Many of the passengers, however, availed 
 themselves of the privilege of again visiting the deck 
 and seeking amelioration of their "gastronomic" dis- 
 turbances in the bracing salt air. There was no dif- 
 ficulty in keeping the emigrants from mingling with 
 the cabin passengers without arousing inquiry as to 
 its cause, because even under ordinary circumstances 
 steerage passengers are rarely allowed to trespass on 
 that part of the deck allotted to the cabin passengers. 
 
 Our young friend seemed to have forgotten all 
 his boyish desire for observation of what was occur- 
 ring about the ship, so assiduously did he apply him- 
 self to watching his little charge. Mrs. Lawrence 
 was too weak to arise or talk much and often would 
 only press his hand in silent gratitude. Once she 
 drew his face down to hers and kissed him, while 
 he, in his unskilled way, attempted to allay her fears 
 for the little one. 
 
 The child's symptoms had soon convinced her ex- 
 perienced father that her fever was of a typho- 
 raal.'irial nature, but he concealed it from his wife, 
 while he exerted every effort to direct its course to 
 a favorable termination. For five days she was de- 
 lirious, and it was pathetic to see her little self-con- 
 stituted nurse hold her hand and listening to her 
 wandering talk, which he could not understand, while 
 the tears stood in his eyes and his mute lips were 
 compressed to choke down the great lumps that arose 
 in his throat; or to see the anxiety with which he 
 
 34
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 watched her father, to read hope from his counte- 
 nance if he could, as he made one of his frequent ex- 
 aminations. Twice a day when the weather permitted 
 the doctor ordered him on deck to drink in the in- 
 vigorating air, but ho always returned before his 
 time was up only to be softly chided by the good doc- 
 tor. 
 
 On the fourteenth day after leaving Bremer 
 Hafen, Southampton was reached, where the last 
 mail Was taken on board, and their own letters sent 
 back home. Phillip had been told of this oppor- 
 tunity and had, during his watches, written his par- 
 ents the experiences through which they had passed. 
 He dwelt much on the kindness of his new friends. 
 Again and again he urged his parents to have no fear 
 for him ; he would write often and felt confidence in 
 the future. He wrote much about little Bessie, but 
 would not alarm them by mentioning that there was 
 a case of smallpox on board. With many expressions 
 of love he closed, again urging them not to worry even 
 if they did not hear from him for several months. 
 
 What joy that letter created when it reached his 
 home! The news of the storm which swept sea and 
 land so soon after the vessel sailed had already 
 reached them and left them overwhelmed with anx- 
 iety. This was suddenly removed, their darling boy 
 was still safe and among kind friends. What parent 
 would not lift his heart in gratitude to God for such 
 
 joy! 
 
 The stop off Southampton was very brief, and, the 
 wind being favorable, the last sight of land quickly 
 disappeared. 
 
 35
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Phillip's heart had been gladdened at the oppor- 
 tunity of sending news of his safety to his parents; 
 and when now he went below and saw the happy look 
 on the father's face and looked at Bessie and saw that 
 she knew him and softly called him by name, 
 "Phillip," his heart was full he wept Dr. Law- 
 rence whispered him to go on deck for a while, as 
 Bessie must now sleep and he would remain with her. 
 
 Obediently he went, and, still weeping, sat down 
 on a bench to indulge not his grief, but his joy. After 
 a little he heard footsteps approaching, and looking 
 up he saw the captain standing before him. He had 
 been spoken to by the captain before and liked him 
 because he looked so great and powerful and fear- 
 less. Erect as an arrow, with a face like bronze, 
 except where it was covered with a blonde, curling 
 beard, heavy eyebrows at times half covering a pair 
 of steely blue eyes, he looked like the typical Teuton 
 from the northern shore that he was, like a man born 
 to command and do battle with nature's powerful 
 forces. 
 
 "Homesick ?" ho inquired in a not unkindly voice. 
 "!N"o, sir ! Oh, no !" Phillip answered. 
 "Well, why then are you crying?" he questioned 
 further. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Bessie knows us again, and 
 I am so happy !" 
 
 The captain looked at him and then recollected 
 that this was the lad who had so untiringly nursed 
 Dr. Lawrence's little child. He had not at first rec- 
 ognized Phillip, because he looked thinner and paler. 
 
 36
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 "Well, sir, you are a brave little man. You have 
 done what few boys of your age would think of do- 
 ing. If you want anything on this trip that I can 
 give you, come and see me." 
 
 So saying, the captain left him. 
 
 Such words coming from such a man might well 
 cause boyish heart to swell with pride ; and they were 
 not wholly without that effect on Phillip. But it was 
 more the thought of his father, than self-conscious- 
 ness, which made him feel it. He sat there for half 
 an hour longer ; then impatience drove him below. 
 
 He found Bessie quietly sleeping and father and 
 mother conversing in low tones. When Phillip came 
 up to them, both embraced and kissed him. The doc- 
 tor had just told his wife for the first time the danger 
 through which their little Bessie had passed, and the 
 mother's heart, aye, and father's, too, might well em- 
 brace within their love this brave little fellow who had 
 helped so much to save their darling child. 
 
 After a little Dr. Lawrence requested Phillip to 
 go on deck again until supper time, as he had been 
 confined so much and needed the air, assuring him 
 that the best tha.t could be done for Bessie now was 
 to let her sleep. 
 
 For several hours the little fellow wandered about, 
 observing the arrangements on a ship's deck, and 
 making some acquaintances among the passengers. 
 Long he gazed at the seia and endeavored to reckon the 
 speed of the ship. Then again he watched the sailors 
 busy in the rigging. Some of the sails seemed to re- 
 quire frequent changing to get the full benefit of the 
 breeze. Finally his inquiring mind prompted him 
 
 37
 
 PLUCK 
 
 to ask one of the sailors a question, whereupon he re- 
 ceived a short, gruff reply that he "had no time to 
 satisfy the curiosity of boys." One of the passen- 
 gers, however, a short, elderly gentleman, by the name 
 of Gross, who overheard the remark, kindly answered. 
 
 Mr. Gross was an importer of wines, living in 
 Philadelphia, who had crossed the ocean several 
 times and was well informed. He told Phillip they 
 expected to reach the south coast of Ireland early 
 next day, and were now pressing on all sail possible 
 to take advantage of the favorable winds to pass the 
 dangerous cliffs of that coast. He was a German by 
 birth, and his rotund figure and florid face confessed 
 his gracious care of himself ; while his mirthful eyes 
 told of great good nature. He had emigrated to 
 America more than twenty years ago, and, by indus- 
 try and economy, accumulated sufficient to start his 
 present successful business. 
 
 The two conversed for a while, each asking and an- 
 swering questions in turn. The old gentleman was 
 evidently interested in the boy and impressed him 
 with the necessity of learning to speak English. 
 Phillip, of course, was eager to do so when opportun- 
 ity would offer. Mr. Gross, who spoke English but 
 in/differently himself, nevertheless prided' himself on 
 his accomplishment, and told Phillip that hereafter 
 he would give him instructions every day ; "und you 
 see," he added in English, "wen we get. to New York 
 you can shpeak English den." He translated this into 
 German for Phillip and said that was the way he 
 would learn it quickest. 
 
 38
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 After supper Phillip sat at Bessie's bedside. She 
 looked at him so gratefully, as if she knew how he 
 had prayed for and watched over her. She slept 
 throughout that night and Phillip himself had the 
 first night of complete rest since she was taken sick. 
 
 In the morning the child was much improved. Her 
 mother also was recovering. While her attack was 
 chiefly seasickness, the enfeebled condition in which 
 her previous disease, for which she had taken the 
 waters at Karlsbad, had left her, did much to ag- 
 gravate its effect. However, the continued steady 
 weather of the last few days permitted at least a par- 
 tial recovery, and she was able to arise and enjoy a 
 few brief periods on the deck. 
 
 Dr. Lawrence, descending from the bluest blood 
 of old Boston, was not a rich man. He had made 
 his way from a condition bordering on poverty to a 
 position that brought him a living income with 
 promise of more for the future. His wife was the 
 daughter of a deacon of the church he used to attend 
 while working his way through college, and he had 
 married her soon after he started in practice. It was 
 uphill work, for a while, to make a living, but grad- 
 ually his ability began to be appreciated by the pub- 
 lic and his practice enabled him to live well and lay 
 up a penny for the future. Just about that time his 
 wife was taken sick, and, knowing the only chance for 
 her recovery, he sacrificed his practice and little sav- 
 ings to give her the benefits of the waters of Karls- 
 bad. Happily the experiment was at least a partial 
 success, and, when his savings were exhausted, they 
 were able to return to their home to start anew. 
 
 39
 
 PLUCK 
 
 That evening Dr. Lawrence was summoned to a 
 hasty consultation with Dr. Reinhart. Another pas- 
 senger showed symptoms of the dread disease, and it 
 did not take long to determine their nature. When 
 Dr. Lawrence returned to his cabin, its inmates were 
 asleep. Before they awoke, and early in the morn- 
 ing of the next day, he was summoned to another case 
 disclosing the same symptoms. On his return he in- 
 formed his wife and Phillip of the situation. He 
 had little fear for either of them, as both had been 
 successfully vaccinated and would at most have the 
 disease but lightly ; but Bessie had never been, having 
 escaped the captain's order by reason of her severe 
 illness. However, Dr. Lawrence was hopeful that 
 the previous disease had' sufficiently cleansed her sys- 
 tem to make her proof against this new malady. 
 Nevertheless he vaccinated her at once, and it was 
 fortunate that he did, because it subsequently devel- 
 oped that the virus worked excellently. 
 
 Before the close of the succeeding day seven other 
 cases developed among the cabin passengers, and the 
 following day, five more. It was no longer possible 
 to keep knowledge of the fact from the emi- 
 grants in the steerage. Nurses and attendants were 
 needed, and Dr. Reinhart, under directions of the 
 captain, went to the steerage and frankly told them 
 all the situation, at the same time urging them not to 
 be alarmed, as the danger to life, owing to the pre- 
 viously taken precaution, was not great. He asked 
 for volunteers to nurse the sick, promising liberal 
 compensation. Half a dozen men, mostly young, and 
 three women promptly offered their services. It was 
 
 40
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 determined that, so long as the disease did not spread 
 to the steerage, the quarantine limits should be main^ 
 tained, and the volunteer nurses made their arrange- 
 ments accordingly. 
 
 At first there were but few severe cases, all of 
 whom nevertheless required constant attention. It 
 was, however, but a week later, when practically the 
 whole ship was infected. The disease first gave evi- 
 dence of a general outbreak on a Sunday morning, 
 and on Friday evening of the same week the first 
 victim was buried in the sea. Only two others fol- 
 lowed. All the rest eventually recovered. 
 
 The officers of the ship and the sailors were nearly 
 all immune, and as many of the latter as could be 
 spared were ordered to assist as nurses. 
 
 Phillip had insisted from the first in helping wait 
 on the sick, and the captain had, at his request, given 
 him a berth in a stateroom occupied by an infected 
 passenger. He would not expose his friends to closer 
 danger than that which already surrounded them. 
 All day and late into the nights he moved about fear- 
 lessly from one to the other, doing a little kindness 
 here and there, such as only a gentle hand and kind 
 heart could bestow, and when, late at night, he sought 
 his pillow, exhaustion brought him sleep often before 
 he could finish his prayers. 
 
 He could now visit his friends in the steerage, and 
 many a dainty morsel he brought them from the kind 
 stewards of the cabin, to cheer them in their con- 
 valescence. 
 
 The fat little wine merchant grumbled constantly 
 to the doctor, when Phillip could not be with him. 
 
 41
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Send me dot boy, doctor ; he does me more goot tan 
 all your medicines." He had a very mild attack, but 
 thought he would certainly die, and commissioned 
 the boy with all manner of messages and errands, un- 
 til the little fellow's head throbbed with bewilder- 
 ment and, sometimes, pain. 
 
 It was a horrible experience, though it might have 
 been worsa Only three succumbed to the disease, as 
 already stated, while the others gained by this trial 
 in an awakening and strengthening of brotherly love 
 and charity towards distress and misfortune, as well 
 as in a purified body. 
 
 Finally our young friend also had to pay the pen- 
 alty of such reckless exposure to danger; but the at- 
 tack was so light that had it not been for his general 
 exhausted condition, he might not even have been 
 obliged to go to bed ; as it was he did not take to his 
 bed until after the eruptions were well advanced, and 
 was up again within ten days, much rested withal, 
 and happy to find that no new cases had appeared 
 since his prostration. His labors with the sick had 
 endeared him to many, and every attention and pos- 
 sible kindness was shown him. Mrs. Lawrence had 
 insisted on nursing him in person much of the time, 
 as Bessie was almost well and would always will- 
 ingly remain alone when mamma wanted to go to see 
 her "dear Phillip." 
 
 Thus, after a lapse of little more than four weeks 
 from the first general outbreak of the disease, it had 
 run its course and died out for lack of further nour- 
 ishment 
 
 42
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 They had now been seven weeks on board ship, and 
 had experienced many kinds of weather. After leav- 
 ing Southampton they had fair weather for nearly 
 two weeks; then showers and occasional short storms 
 followed each other for a while ; and, during the last 
 week, they were sailing in the face of a strong head 
 wind which made progress very slow. They were 
 but little more than half way across, and with the 
 most favorable winds could hardly expect to reach 
 New York in less than three weeks. The "Salier" 
 was a stout three-master, but clumsy, and not built 
 for speed. 
 
 With the exception of one terrific storm which 
 struck them off the coast of New Foundland and car- 
 ried them far out of their course, the remainder of 
 the trip passed without noteworthy incident. The 
 emigrants and other passengers were now all ac- 
 quainted with each other, and the former spent days 
 discussing their future hopes and prospects. Most 
 of them had friends in some part of America and 
 were going direct to them, while others who had none, 
 arranged to join one or the other of their shipmates. 
 Whole days were spent singing in chorus the songs of 
 the old home, and even the storms could not wholly 
 repress their new courage. 
 
 Phillip, after his recovery, had been reinstated in 
 Dr. Lawrence's stateroom, and Mrs. Lawrence and 
 Mr. Gross gave him daily lessons in English. The 
 time was, however, too short to learn more than a 
 few things of general use. 
 
 Dr. Lawrence was to return to Boston to endeavor 
 to regain his practice, and, if unsuccessful, intended 
 
 43
 
 PLUCK 
 
 to try some western state, while his wife and child 
 temporarily remained with the former's widowed 
 sister. 
 
 Mr. Gross, who had taken such a liking to Phillip, 
 insisted that he should accompany him home. He 
 "wood send him to shcool und make a man off him," 
 he told the doctor. Phillip liked this proposition bet- 
 ter than to proceed to Mr. Baldwin's native town, 
 where, at best, his chances were uncertain, even 
 though the letters of recommendation which he car- 
 ried were of the warmest nature. Thus it was ar- 
 ranged that he should accompany Mr. Gross to Phil- 
 adelphia. 
 
 The days did not, after all, seem to drag as slowly 
 as might be believed ; and, when the parting between 
 these new-found friends finally came, a backward 
 look upon the voyage made it seem almost short, al- 
 though it had lasted eleven weeks. 
 
 One day the captain, whom Phillip now often vis- 
 ited in his office, said to him : 
 
 "Phillip, would you like to become a sailor ? I'll 
 tell you what I will do; if you stay with me I will 
 train you to a life of courage and daring such as will 
 develop all the manhood within you. I'll take you 
 in my charge and make you a leader and commandor 
 of men. I have often wished for a son like you, and 
 if you do your duty I will treat you as my son." 
 
 Phillip grasped the extended hand, hardly able to 
 articulate words of thanks for the generous and un- 
 expected offer. Finally, however, he found voice to 
 say: 
 
 44
 
 ON THE OCEAN 
 
 "Sir, I thank you. Every one is so kind to nie, 
 and now you, too !" 
 
 "My father and mother do not know the sea, and 
 only fear it. It would make their sorrow still greater 
 if they knew me constantly exposed to its dangers. 
 For their sake I cannot, although I am indeed grate- 
 ful to you." 
 
 The captain said no more on the subject; but he 
 squeezed the little fellow's hand in his bear-like paw 
 in a manner that fully expressed his admiration. 
 After that the captain gave Phillip particular in- 
 structions about the landing in New York, saw to 
 the exchanging of his money by the purser, and in- 
 structed him as to its value. 
 
 One day some of the passengers presented him 
 with a leather wallet and memorandum book as a 
 token of their gratitude, and when he opened it he 
 found a considerable sum of money therein. He ac- 
 cepted it, as any boy would under the circumstances, 
 and placed in it the rest of his money and his letters 
 of introduction. In the memorandum book he care- 
 fully wrote the addresses of his several friends ; and 
 promised each to write them from time to tima He 
 also wrote to his parents all that had occurred since 
 his last letter, and told them that its receipt would 
 be a sure proof that he had arrived safely in New 
 York, as that would be the first place reached where 
 he could mail it. 
 
 In the morning of the second day of June it was 
 noised about the ship that land had been sighted ; and 
 true enough, at about ten o'clock it became visible to 
 the naked eye. A tremendous shout arose. Wildest 
 
 45
 
 PLUCK 
 
 of all were those of the passengers who were Amer- 
 icans either by birth or adoption. The Stars and 
 Stripes were run up, and cheer upon cheer greeted 
 the emblem of liberty. It was evening, however, be- 
 fore they had approached close enough to observe 
 anything but dim outlines. 
 
 The pilot arrived during the night, and in the 
 morning all passengers were informed that the ship 
 was ordered detained in quarantine for inspection 
 and disinfection. It w r as ten days later before they 
 were released and landed at Hoboken.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK. 
 
 THE agents of the various railroad and trans- 
 portation companies were at hand and 
 promptly took charge of the emigrants 
 and their baggage. There was noise and 
 confusion in plenty. A few had friends to re- 
 ceive them, but the greater number intended to 
 go farther west, where their friends or rel- 
 atives were already located. Winters started for Wis- 
 consin and settled in Milwaukee county, at a place 
 which is now one of its most prosperous towns. 
 Phillip bade them farewell and promised a visit on 
 some future day. Few of the newcomers had any 
 suspicion of the vast distances that would separate 
 them. 
 
 The parting with the Lawrences was more affect- 
 ing. It seemed as though another loving family was 
 being broken up. Little Bessie clung to Phillip and 
 did not want to let him go. Over and over again 
 he had to promise to come on a visit as soon as he 
 could, and keep them posted of his whereabouts. 
 Peter Gross cried and promised everything for his 
 young charge, and the captain even left his duties 
 long enough to bid them a last farewell. 
 
 47
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Mr. Gross had his baggage and Phillip's little 
 trunk checked direct to Philadelphia, but, having 
 some business to perform before he left for home, 
 which would take him several days, proceeded up the 
 city and took a room at one of the hotels. 
 
 It was too late in the afternoon to do anything that 
 day. They, therefore, contented themselves with a 
 long walk up Broadway, after supper. The city 
 seemed to swim in a sea of light, and to be endless. 
 Wherever they went or looked it was the same. A 
 dense throng of people moving rapidly; show win- 
 dows brilliantly illuminated, displaying things new 
 and wonderful to Phillip's sight; all manner of 
 vehicles rushing up and down the streets ; and such a 
 noise of mingled sound as he could not before have 
 imagined. 
 
 After their return to the hotel, Phillip was unable 
 to sleep, such was the rushing whirl in his brain. Mr. 
 Gross, however, was unaffected and soon snored glor- 
 iously. At length, tired nature asserted herself, but 
 confused dreams took possession, and it was not until 
 toward morning that the lad's sleep became sound 
 and refreshing. It was ten o'clock when he awoke, 
 and Mr. Gross had already started out on his errands, 
 leaving a note for Phillip to get his breakfast and 
 wait for him until he returned at dinner time. 
 
 Hastily dressing, he went below to the office. There 
 he asked one of the uniformed boys where he could 
 get breakfast. He was shown to a large dining hall 
 and given a seat. His appearance must have sug- 
 gested his nationality, for, after a little while, a gen- 
 tleman wearing a white apron approached him and 
 
 48
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 asked in German for his order. Phillip said he 
 wanted to eat, whereupon the gentleman smiled and 
 started away, soon to return with a splendid break- 
 fast. 
 
 After satisfying his healthy appetite Phillip re- 
 turned to the office to await Mr. Gross' return. He 
 sat there looking out through the large window at 
 the busy throng in the streets until nearly noon, when 
 he heard some one speaking to him in German. He 
 turned and saw a young fellow a few years older than 
 himself, well dressed and smoking a cigar. 
 
 As Phillip turned to see who spoke to him, the 
 stranger addressed him again, with the inquiry 
 whether he had not just come from Germany. 
 
 Upon receiving an affirmative reply he asked fur- 
 ther where his father was. 
 
 Phillip replied that his parents were in Germany ; 
 and by adroit questioning the fellow, who gave his 
 name as John Krumm, soon elicited much of the 
 boy's story without the latter knowing it. He strolled 
 up after a little to look at the register and saw the 
 entry, "Peter Gross & boy, Philadelphia." It being 
 the only entry of such nature he concluded that this 
 was the boy and that he was in Mr. Gross' charge. 
 
 After a little he came back to Phillip and asked, 
 at a hazard, "Are you waiting for Mr. Gross ?" 
 
 Phillip brightened up instantly and answered: 
 "Yes, sir, do you know him ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, very well," Krumm answered ; "he used 
 to stop often at father's hotel." 
 
 49
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "I am so glad," said Phillip. "He will soon be 
 back, as it is nearly noon now, and he left \v >rd ho 
 Avould be back for dinner." 
 
 "But they don't have dinner at noon here. Their 
 dinner is served from two until five," the other an- 
 swered, smiling, as he had gained the information 
 he wanted. "Besides, I met Mr. Gross at the office 
 of Blannheim & Co. a little while ago, and he told 
 me to call here and tell you, if I found you, that he 
 could not return until this evening, because he was 
 unexpectedly delayed." 
 
 Phillip, never doubting the other's truthfulness, 
 was disappointed, because he had hoped to accom- 
 pany Mr. Gross in the afternoon and thus see more 
 of the city. 
 
 "If you want to look about the city for a while 
 I'll show you around," continued Kraimm, after a 
 pause. "Mr. Gross knows I am posted and trusts 
 me." 
 
 A moment's hesitation, and Phillip accepted the 
 offer. Before starting he buttoned up his coat tight- 
 ly, pressing the outside of the pocket to see that his 
 wallet and memorandum book were still there. 
 
 The other watched his movements and a quick 
 sparkle came to his eye ; but when Phillip looked up 
 he smiled good-naturedly and remarked that it was 
 not at all cold. 
 
 They started out, Krumm keeping up a constant 
 stream of talk and leading the boy, on one pretense 
 or another, from street to street. He showed him 
 many noteworthy things, but everything Phillip saw 
 
 50
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 was new and strange to him, and it was easy to keep 
 up his interest. 
 
 Once Kritmm took him into a saloon, where he 
 claimed Mr. Gross often visited when in the city, 
 and ordered wine for both. Phillip drank because his 
 early education was not opposed to stimulants in 
 moderation for grown people, and he felt that he 
 must now learn the ways of men. But when the fiery 
 fluid, which was probably some cheap concoction, 
 made him glow with internal heat, he firmly refused 
 a second, which was repeatedly urged upon him. 
 
 After secretly exchanging a few whispered words 
 with the bartender, and then loudly saying they 
 would return and requesting that if Mr. Gross called 
 he should wait here for them, Krumm again started 
 out with Phillip. 
 
 The sights were so new and novel to our young 
 friend that he did not observe the flight of time until 
 he suddenly became aware that the street lamps were 
 lit. Then he immediately asked his conductor to take 
 him back to the hotel. 
 
 "Oh, there is no hurry," Krumm replied ; "here is 
 my father's hotel. See that sign, 'Deutsches Gast- 
 haus' ?" he read, pointing to a large sign suspended 
 across the walk. "Come in and rest for a while, then 
 we'll go back." 
 
 So saying he led the way and Phillip had no 
 choice but to follow. He observed, before they en- 
 tered the large wooden structure, that they were in a 
 rough-looking part of the city, where there were no 
 nice, large show windows, and fewer people on the 
 streets. When they entered the office, strong tobacco 
 
 51
 
 PLUCK 
 
 odor greeted them, and sounds of revelry were heard 
 through the doorway of an adjoining room. 
 
 Kruinm told Phillip to sit down while he would go 
 to find his father, the landlord. 
 
 After waiting for half an hour, a burly, red-faced 
 man approached and asked his business. 
 
 Phillip replied that he was waiting for Mr. 
 Krunim, the landlord's son, who had gone to find 
 him. 
 
 The man laughed and roughly said, "I am the 
 landlord and my name is Pfeffer. I don't know any 
 man by the name of Krunim. What do you want 
 here?" 
 
 Phillip was scared at his manner, but told him that 
 John Krumm brought him here; that he had taken 
 him out to see the city, and that he promised to take 
 him back to the hotel where Mr. Gross stopped. 
 
 The landlord reiterated that he did not know Mr. 
 Krumm or Mr. Gross, and asked to what hotel he 
 wanted to go. 
 
 Phillip did not know the name of the hotel ; where- 
 upon the landlord informed him that he could stay 
 there for the night if he had money to pay. It was 
 too late to find his hotel now, as it was nearly dark, 
 and possibly Krumm, whoever he was, would conic 
 back in the morning after him. 
 
 Reluctantly Phillip submitted to the apparent 
 necessity; but he had lost all desire for supper and 
 sat all evening, lonely and desolate, in the office, until 
 he was directed to go to bed and was shown to a 
 chilly little bedroom. 
 
 52
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 He feared that Mr. Gross would worry about him, 
 and was beginning to doubt the good faith of Krumm. 
 Once during the evening he thought he caught a 
 glimpse of the latter conversing -with the landlord be- 
 hind the bar in the next room ; but, when he jumped 
 up to run to see, the figure disappeared through a back 
 door before he could see the face. He was almost 
 sure it was Krumm, but the landlord, whom he ques- 
 tioned, said he was mistaken, and ordered him to 
 return to the office. 
 
 Thus, between doubt and fear, he disrobed and 
 went to bed, first carefully putting his wallet under 
 the pillow, as he had been told to do when in a strange 
 place. He was very tired from the long tramp, and, 
 in spite of a growing uneasiness of mind, soon fell 
 into the sound sleep of boyhood. 
 
 His sleep was so deep that, when he awoke in the 
 morning, it took him a few moments to collect his 
 thoughts and remember the occurrences of the prev- 
 ious day. When he did, he speedily dressed, intend- 
 ing to start out alone to find Mr. Gross, if no one 
 would help him. 
 
 There was a pitcher of hard water, a bowl and a 
 coarse towel on a stand at one end of the room, but 
 no comb. Phillip washed, and smoothed his hair as 
 best he could, and turned to go down stairs, when he 
 remembered his wallet and memorandum book. He 
 reached under the pillow and did not find it. At 
 first he thought that it might have slipped onto the 
 floor or lower down in the bed, and he searched every 
 nook; he pulled the bed clothes off one by one and 
 
 53
 
 PLUCK 
 
 shook them ; then he felt in his pockets, thinking per- 
 haps he had absentmindedly put it there. 
 
 Finally the awful fact dawned upon him that he 
 had been robbed. All his money, even the addresses 
 of his friends, were gone. The conduct of Krumm, 
 his assumed knowledge of Mr. Gross' movements, the 
 manner in which he had been led to this den and the 
 landlord's assumed ignorance, all appeared in a new 
 light to him. Like a flash the suspicious circum- 
 stances passed before him, and he knew that he had 
 been the dupe of scoundrels, of whom he had heard ; 
 who preyed upon the ignorance and innocence of poor 
 imigrants, to rob them of the little which they had ; 
 and he sank down upon a chair and wept. 
 
 Suddenly he jumped up and rushed down stairs. 
 He met the landlord coming into the office from an 
 opposite door, while Krumm stood leaning against 
 the counter. Passionate anger at the wrong inflicted 
 controlled him, and he demanded his money and wal- 
 let. He accused the two or robbing him and threat- 
 ened dire punishment through Mr. Gross if his prop- 
 erty was not restored. 
 
 The landlord grabbed the boy by the back of his 
 coat collar and, pretending to be furious, shook him 
 until his teeth chattered. "You accuse me of steal- 
 ing, of robbing, you little cub; you want to beat me 
 out of your board and lodging, eh, don't you ? Oh, I 
 know them tricks. I'll fix you ! John, go call the 
 policeman Danter, quick he is over at Mike Hoola- 
 han's." 
 
 So saying, he continued to shake our little friend 
 and 1 curse him by turns until Krumm returned with 
 
 54
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 the policeman, whom he informed in English that 
 this boy had swindled him out of his board, claiming 
 to have money to pay for his lodging when he had 
 none, and that he had just caught him sneaking out 
 of the house. 
 
 Phillip did not understand the charge and could 
 make no defense even had he been given opportunity. 
 The policeman took him roughly by the arm and 
 marched him off to the station, where he was ushered 
 into a crowded prison to await his trial in due turn. 
 
 When released from the hand of the officer, he 
 sank upon a rude bench running along the stone wall. 
 He was faint and overcome by his fast, lasting since 
 yesterday before dinner, as well as by the varying 
 emotions to which he had been subjected. 
 
 Offenders of all kinds were constantly being 
 ushered into the prison room. Drunkards, male and 
 female, human beings true but votaries of every 
 manner of vice ; the outcasts, the scum of the city 
 were gathered in as usual after a night of debauchery. 
 Cursing and maudlin attempts at speech filled the 
 room with discordant sound. 
 
 After a short time several prison attendants ap- 
 peared, carrying huge buckets and tin dishes. Each 
 prisoner was given a tin plate and a fairly liberal al- 
 lowance of boiled potatoes and meat. Phillip, in spite 
 of his surroundings, ate the whole of his portion and 
 felt considerably better. Good drinking water was 
 passed around to such as wished it, and in other re- 
 spects also the prisoners were not treated inhumanely. 
 
 A fat German woman of middle age, who had been 
 in from the preceding day and somewhat recovered 
 
 55
 
 PLUCK 
 
 from her drunk, began to talk to a man, evidently 
 also a German, in the only language which Phillip 
 understood. They were discussing their chances of a 
 speedy trial. Phillip listened for a time, then 
 plucked up courage to speak to them. 
 
 He asked how long he would have to stay there. 
 They laughed and asked what he was "in for." He 
 told them he did not know, only that he had been 
 robbed and the landlord had then accused him of at- 
 tempting to beat him out of his pay for the night's 
 lodging. In reply to further questions he told how 
 it all had happened. 
 
 "Poor boy," said the woman, "you will get your 
 eye-teeth cut after a while. You are not the first fel- 
 low that met such a reception in this miserable coun- 
 try. Oh, I wish I was back to Germany again," She 
 had not lost every grain of sympathy, even though she 
 had drifted into the paths of vice. 
 
 They could give no information as to how long he 
 would have to stay there ; all that he learned was that 
 probably in a day or two he would be taken before 
 the judge and given a trial. The woman advised him 
 to tell the judge all about it because the judge had a 
 kind heart, although he was very strict ; and that lie 
 could speak through an interpreter. 
 
 Phillip was disconsolate ; he thought how Mr. 
 Gross would worry, not knowing what had become of 
 him; and even if he now got out, how could he find 
 his way to the hotel knowing neither its name nor 
 location. He finally thought that when released he 
 would inquire his way back to Castle Garden, where 
 he might find some information as to Mi*. Gross' 
 
 56
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 whereabouts, or, at least, could try to follow the 
 course they had taken to the hotel as near as he re- 
 membered. This eased his mind somewhat, but the 
 uncertainty as to how long he would be kept in prison 
 and as to whether Mr. Gross would still be at the 
 hotel when he would be released, kept him in suffi- 
 cient anxiety. 
 
 In conflicting hope and fear he waited. The day 
 passed, and a second and a third. All those who had 
 been there when he came had been called up for trial 
 and discharged or transferred to a different prison, 
 and many who had been brought in later. Still no 
 call was made for Phillip. 
 
 On the fourth day the German woman was again 
 brought in, with her face cut and bleeding. When 
 she saw Phillip she exclaimed : 
 
 "What, here yet ? Why haven't you been let out ? 
 Oh, this miserable country there is no liberty, no 
 justice for an honest person here ! See here, when I 
 am called up I'll give the judge a piece of my mind. 
 To keep a boy like you here so long without a trial. 
 I'll skin the policeman who brought you here if I get 
 my hands on him !" 
 
 And she was nearly as good as her word. When 
 she was called up on the following day, she deluged 
 the court and officers with such a tirade of abuse for 
 keeping a little boy locked up in that infamous den, 
 as she called it, and was so evidently sincere in her 
 conviction of a great wrong having been done, that 
 the judge was impressed by her remarks, and instead 
 of increasing her sentence, ordered her to accompany 
 
 57
 
 PLUCK 
 
 an officer and point out the "boy and bring him into 
 court. 
 
 A moment later Phillip stood before the judge, 
 who, when he found he could not understand Eng- 
 lish, questioned him through an interpreter. Phillip 
 answered that he had been brought there five days be- 
 fore by an officer, and the woman loudly corroborated 
 this, and would have started another volley of abuse 
 had she not been ordered to be silent. 
 
 "What officer brought this prisoner to the station ?" 
 the judge sternly inquired, looking about tho court 
 room at the different policemen present. 
 
 "I did, yer Honor; and I neglected to prefer the 
 charge." 
 
 "Come forward and, state where you found him, 
 and why he was arrested and not speedily tried !" 
 
 Danter explained that Pfeffer, who runs the hotel 
 and saloon on Broom street, had caught him jump- 
 ing his board bill and handed him over. He had 
 no excuse to offer for violating his duty as an officer 
 of the court in not promptly preferring the charge, so 
 that the case might have been dealt with in its proper 
 turn three or four days before. 
 
 The Judge questioned the prisoner fully, and 
 Phillip answered truthfully what the facts were, with 
 such evident sincerity that the judge could not help 
 but believe him. The expression of his face showed 
 his rising anger and indignation, and when he had 
 all the information he wanted he said, in decisive 
 tones : 
 
 "The prisoner is discharged. Officer Danter, you 
 are convicted of contempt upon your own admission 
 
 58
 
 IN DOT CITY WOT DE PEOBLES CALL NUW YORK 
 
 made in open court, and sentenced to five days' im- 
 prisonment and three months' suspension from the 
 service." 
 
 "It is humiliating," he added sternly, "when courts 
 of justice in this land of equal rights must silently 
 submit to the denunciation of creatures like this wo- 
 man, because she is justified by the facts ! Out upon 
 such officers of the law who hold their duty to fel- 
 low-man so lightly as to allow their misconduct, or 
 even negligence, to bring reproach upon the admin- 
 istration of justice!" 
 
 It was no doubt a splendid sentiment which the 
 court expressed, and came from an honorable heart. 
 But it could not return to Phillip the lost opportun- 
 ities of those five days. 
 
 He wandered out through the open door, when in- 
 formed of his release, and started slowly down the 
 street. He did not know in what direction he was 
 going, nor did it then matter to him. Disheartened 
 and utterly depressed by the bitter injustice he had 
 suffered, he wandered along in an almost dazed con- 
 dition. 
 
 59
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 HILLIP had not gone a great way when 
 he became aware of a group of newsboys 
 coming out of a large building, a short 
 distance ahead of him, with bundles of 
 papers under their arms. 
 
 "Hello, Dutchy ! Oh, say, fellows, see that 
 greeny. Don't he 'carry the Fatherland with him 
 though ?" said one mischievous little fellow, pointing 
 to Phillip's clothes. 
 
 "Buy a paper ?" another shouted, shaking one close 
 to our friend's face; "All about the great fire on 
 Baxter street million dollar hotel destroyed great 
 loss of life buy a paper ?" and he laughed while re- 
 hearsing the morning's "battle cry" which the pub- 
 lishers had given him. 
 
 Several others started to tease him in boyish mis- 
 chief, while little Phillip, smarting under the recep- 
 tion he had thus far received in this country, and un- 
 able to understand the harmless nature of the boys' 
 attack, looked up at them with a feeling akin to hatred 
 at this new outrage. Without a second thought he 
 gave the fellows nearest him such a vigorous push that 
 they flew against each other, scattering their papers 
 on the walk, while he jumped at a somewhat larger 
 
 60
 
 'You let the Kid alone!' "
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 boy who stood behind the others observing their do- 
 ings with a smile, and attacked him with such vio- 
 lence that, in pure defense of self, the other gave 
 back a blow that made him stagger and fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 Immediately the little urchins, whom Phillip had 
 so roughly put aside as to make them drop and soil 
 their papers, attempted to jump onto the prostrate 
 boy to get even with him, but the one whom he had 
 attacked told them, "You let the kid alone, he's none 
 o' your puddin'." And when one about the size of 
 little Phillip, attempted, in spite of this command, to 
 get revenge, he took him by the collar and flung him 
 back, saying, "You know me, Jem Mace you touch 
 that boy and you settle with me, you sneak. The kid 
 wouldn't tackle you because you probably looked too 
 small, but when he's down you want to jump on him." 
 So saying he got down on his knees beside the still 
 prostrate figure of Phillip. 
 
 "Say, boys, I'm afraid I hurt him. That undercut 
 Pat Flynn showed me was too strong. Help me git 
 the kid up to the old woman's." 
 
 Two or three at once handed their bundles to their 
 chums and assisted in carrying the boy to a low 
 shanty in the next alley, where an old woman stood 
 in the doorway, and in a shrill voice and strong Irish 
 brogue greeted them with : 
 
 "An' phat divil of mischief have yez bin at now, 
 Jack O'Donnell? Ah, sure, it is some divilment of 
 yours that has laid the poor bye out, an' with your 
 fightin' an' fightin' yez will soon have yer poor ould 
 granina in the grave, same as your f ayther did !" 
 
 61
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Oh, quit yer whining an' git out of the way," said 
 Jack. His language was rough, but his voice not un- 
 kind, and in a few moments they had carried their 
 unconscious burden into the room and laid him on a 
 rough couch. 
 
 "Sammy, you stay here so that I can find out 
 where he lives in case he is a 'Dutchy,' as he looks to 
 be, an' the rest of you go along about yer business." 
 
 So saying, he proceeded to assist the old lady in 
 restoring Phillip by applying cold water to his tem- 
 ples. As soon as the latter began to revive he was 
 given a tablespoonful of whisky, which had the effect 
 of soon bringing him to a sitting posture. 
 
 "How do you feel, now?" asked Jack, and on re- 
 ceiving no reply he, ordered Sammy to ask him in 
 German. 
 
 Phillip, when the question was put in language 
 which he could understand, answered that he felt 
 dizzy, and wanted to know where he was. 
 
 "You tell him that I didn't want to knock him 
 down nor hit him so hard, but I had to he jumped 
 at me like a little divil. Tell him we brought him 
 to my house and as soon as he feels well enough he 
 can go home ; an' ask him where he lives." 
 
 This was duly communicated to Phillip ; but to the 
 question where he lived he made no answer; he 
 seemed drowsy and wanted to sleep, and almost be- 
 fore his request was repeated to Jack to fell back- 
 ward on the couch and was sound asleep. 
 
 Whether it was the blow he had received, or the 
 whisky, or both, Phillip slept a long time, keeping 
 Jack in great dread as to the extent of the injury 
 
 62
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 and possible result to him ; while his old grandmother, 
 though she knew that sleep was the boy's best med- 
 icine, and that he would probably wake up wholly 
 recovered, seized upon the occasion to augment his 
 anxiety and endeavored to dissuade him from his de- 
 sire for fighting. 
 
 A word of introduction here may not be amiss, for 
 this Irish- American lad plays no small part in Phillip 
 Bertram's subsequent career. 
 
 Jack O'Donnell was a warm-hearted, impulsive 
 boy, two years the senior of Phillip, considerably 
 taller, but more slender and exceedingly agile. His 
 eyes were hazel, his face shockingly freckled, and his 
 hair of that carroty red much in vogue among some 
 of the fiery sons of the Emerald Isle. His father, 
 Pat O'Donnell, had come from Tipperary, bringing 
 his young wife and his mother with him. Jack w r as 
 born a few days after their arrival. They had no 
 money and for half a year his parents and the old 
 lady lived in extreme poverty. Then Mr. O'Donnell 
 found steady employment on a new railroad exten- 
 sion and was able to support his little family in some 
 comfort. At the end of a year Jack's mother gave 
 birth to another child, but never arose from her sick- 
 bed. After an illness of a week she followed the baby, 
 which had lived but a few hours after its birth. Jack's 
 father, overcome with grief, became reckless and for 
 a time took to drinking. His old mother, however, 
 did not give up her efforts to reclaim him in her own 
 effective way. While she earned sufficient to support 
 herself and the baby, she refused to give him any- 
 thing to eat unless he brought home money. This 
 
 63
 
 PLUCK 
 
 soon forced Pat to work, and with it came better 
 thoughts. After a short time he again became in- 
 dustrious and saving, and in half a dozen years, with 
 the combined earnings of his mother and himself, 
 had saved sufficient to purchase and pay for the 
 shanty-like structure in which we now find Mrs. 
 O'Donnell and young Jack. 
 
 However, though he did not "bring her to her 
 grave," as his mother always said he would when he 
 didn't do as she wanted him to, he left her one day 
 the burden of supporting herself and the child alone ; 
 to be sure, without any fault on his part, because he 
 was buried by the caving in of a bank while digging 
 the roadbed along a hillside, but the old lady always 
 believed that she had suffered the greater misfortune 
 through the accident. 
 
 She was still a healthy, robust women at that time, 
 and, having a house, found little difficulty in support- 
 ing herself and Jack. One mistake she made, how- 
 ever: Instead of letting the child run about on the 
 streets, learning, all too young, the ways and habits 
 of the street Arab, she might have sent him to one 
 of the public schools ; but she preferred to add to her 
 little hoard, eventually intended for her grandson, 
 the scattering pennies which he early learned to earn 
 by selling newspapers. After a time he added a shoe- 
 blacking outfit, and thus increased his earnings con- 
 siderable. It is feared, however, his grandmother did 
 not see them all, for he quite naturally acquired some 
 of the vices of the class with whom he associated, and 
 could smoke like a sailor before he was ten years old. 
 As he grew older he remained no stranger to the taste 
 
 64
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 of liquor, though he rarely joined his chums in drink- 
 ing, simply because he did not like it ; and there was 
 hardly a dance-hall, saloon, or other place of amuse- 
 ment in that section of the city with which he was 
 not familiar. He knew all the policemen for miles 
 around and was on friendly terms with them as a 
 matter of policy, and consequently always escaped 
 punishment for his little escapades which were 
 numerous. 
 
 He had, however, one besetting sin which often 
 came near landing him in the police station and which 
 made the friendship of the policemen particularly val- 
 uable : He was always ready for a fight, and it mat- 
 tered little whether he got the worst of it or not, or 
 knew beforehand that he would get whipped, he was 
 always ready when opportunity offered. Thus, many 
 a time he had come home with his face scratched and 
 bleeding and his eyes black and blue, only to receive 
 an additional whipping from his vigorous grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Of late he had made the acquaintance of Pat 
 Flynn, a local celebrity of the prize ring, consider- 
 ably older than Jack, whose condescension to notice so 
 much younger a boy than himself, immensely flat- 
 tered Jack; so that for the time being Pat was his 
 hero whom he worshipped. Pat had given him a few 
 lessons in boxing and showed him where to plant the 
 "knockout" blows, one of which he had experimentally 
 used on Phillip with such eminent success. And at 
 present it was the ambition of his life to become a 
 prize fighter, greatly to the disapproval of his grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Go
 
 PLUCK 
 
 So that, when Phillip lay there sleeping on the 
 couch, looking very pale, and Jack did not know but 
 what he might die, she felt no compuction in increas- 
 ing his terror in the hope that it might have a salu- 
 tary effect. 
 
 He gave up his daily round and left his bundle 
 of papers, which one of the boys had brought in, lying 
 in the comer of the room, to become a dead loss, be- 
 cause in the afternoon when other editions were out 
 no -one would buy them. He even made Sammy 
 Dornbush remain to act as interpreter in case Phillip 
 awoke, promising to make up his loss on his papers. 
 Sammy was glad to oblige because he had any amount 
 of respect for a boy who could strike such a blow ; 
 and it is doubtful whether Jack would not in. his 
 anxiety have made him remain by force had he not 
 done so willingly. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Phillip finally 
 awoke. He sat up and at once recognized Sammy and 
 Jack. The former asked him in German how he felt 
 now, and he replied that he was hungry. 
 
 This brought great relief to Jack when the answer 
 was interpreted to him, and he at once hurried the 
 old lady to get the boy something to eat. He wanted 
 to give Phillip more whisky, but it was refused. 
 Water, he said he wanted, and, when he had drank it, 
 inquired of Sammy where he was. Sammy related 
 what had occurred and repeated what Jack had told 
 him to say when he had first regained consciousness. 
 
 At this Phillip looked long and half distrustfully 
 at Jack, as if to read his nature, while the latter felt 
 and looked uncomfortable ; but, finally, as if satisfied 
 
 66
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 with the scrutiny, he extended his hand to him. Jack 
 understood, and he shook the proffered hand warmly 
 then, rejoiced at the removal of the burden of 
 anxiety from which he had suffered all day, he danced 
 a jig around the room. 
 
 "Tell him, Sammy, we'll take him home. Tell him 
 to eat all he wants to and not to be in a hurry ; there 
 is plenty of time." 
 
 Phillip sat down to a little table and ate his fill 
 while answering all manner of questions. And the 
 more he answered the more the others became inter- 
 ested and continued to question. 
 
 By the time he had finished eating, his companions 
 were acquainted with the greater part of his exper- 
 iences since he landed in New York City, and he had 
 awakened their liveliest interest. 
 
 The old lady was full of sympathy for the poor 
 lad, and to think that her "Jack had knocked him 
 down !" 
 
 "Oh, now shut up, granma," said Jack. "If you 
 had seen the little devil go at me and he struck hard 
 you'd a'thonght I had better defend myself. He 
 was like a little whirlwind, and mad all through. But 
 he's a good lad and we'll help him find his friend, and 
 if Sammy and I can't do it, nobody can't." 
 
 He questioned Phillip as minutely as possible, but 
 could get no information as to the location of the hotel 
 where Mr. Gross was stopping, only that Phillip 
 thought it must be about a mile from the place they 
 called Castle Garden. 
 
 Jack knew Pfeffer, who kept a boarding house and 
 saloon, much frequented by tough characters, about 
 
 67
 
 PLUCK 
 
 fourteen or fifteen blocks to the southwest; but he 
 had never heard of his having a son or of any one by 
 the name of Krumm, and had no doubt the name 
 was assumed by one of the landlord's numerous stool- 
 pigeons employed by him to lure in "greenhorns" and 
 "suckers." 
 
 Suddenly Jack remembered that the daily papers 
 published the arrivals at the leading hotels. He 
 searched through a stack of "left over" copies and 
 found one of the date of Mr. Gross' arrival. But on 
 examining the lists carefully he did not find Mr. 
 Gross' name only such as were deemed to be "prom- 
 inent men." Of course some other paper might con- 
 tain them all, or at least have classed Mr. Gross among 
 the prominent men, but such were not at hand. 
 Then he thought that perhaps Mr. Gross might have 
 inserted an advertisement for Phillip, and he and 
 Sammy looked through all the papers in the stack 
 covering the recent dates, but could find nothing. It 
 was slow work, because neither of them could do 
 more than spell out the printed words; and it may 
 be that they overlooked the advertisement which Mr. 
 Gross had, in fact, caused to be inserted, or it may 
 be that it was contained in other dailies, as New York 
 had even at that time a large number of them. At 
 any rate they did not find it. 
 
 Finally nothing remained to be done except to start 
 out for Pfeffer's, where Jack would make careful in- 
 quiries while Phillip remained as much as possible 
 out of sight, in Sammy's charge. 
 
 68
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LOST IN NEW YORK. 
 
 T was already growing dusk when the three 
 started, and Mrs. O'Donnell called to them 
 to "be sure to bring the bye back if yez can- 
 not foind his frind." 
 
 Another day, the sixth, had passed since Phillip 
 had been lured from the hotel, and he was wondering 
 what Mr. Gross would think and do. Still, he was 
 hopeful now, as he had found friends to help him who 
 knew the city well. 
 
 They walked rapidly and reached Pfeffer's place 
 just as the street lamps were being lit. Phillip and 
 Sammy stopped a short distance before they got there, 
 while Jack proceeded on alone. 
 
 He entered at the saloon door, and, walking boldly 
 up to the bar, called for a glass of beer. There wc^c 
 few in the saloon at that hour. One man, evidently 
 drunk, was sleeping at one of the tables, while several 
 others, also the worse for liquor, were trying to pltiy 
 at cards. 
 
 Jack sipped his beer slowly and began to converse 
 with the bartender; and when, casually, he dropped 
 the remark that Pat Flynn was giving him lessons in 
 boxing, he held his interest in a moment. Pat Flynn 
 
 69
 
 PLUCK 
 
 was known as a good fighter, and any one whom Pat 
 patronized must be quite a fellow. He looked at 
 Jack's wiry figure with approval, and was very will- 
 ing to talk with him. Jack asked him whether they 
 ever had any "bouts" at this place, and was informed 
 that they frequently had, and invited in for next 
 Saturday night. To his question as to police inter- 
 ference, he received the answer that their regular pa- 
 trolman for this beat had been removed, and they had 
 a new man in his place, but that the new man was 
 "all right." 
 
 "Wasn't Mike Danter the cop who used to patrol 
 this beat?" asked Jack, "and what was he removed 
 for?" 
 
 Just then the landlord stepped from the hotel of- 
 fice into the bar room, and overhearing the last ques- 
 tion, suspiciously inquired : 
 
 "Who wants to know about Mike Danter ?" 
 
 Jack answered he did, and a few words of explana- 
 tion from the bartender soon satisfied his master. 
 
 "Danter is in the lockup for letting a kid get away 
 from him who had beat me out of his board bill," he 
 readily lied. 
 
 "Who was the kid, and where'd he cum from ?" 
 asked Jack. 
 
 "Oh, he was some greenhorn who lost his way, and 
 I kept him over night because he said he could pay 
 for it," was the reply. 
 
 "But didn't some one come with him and don't you 
 know where his friends live ?" continued Jack. 
 
 70
 
 LOST IN NEW YORK 
 
 The other looked at him more suspiciously and an- 
 swered sharply, "No, sir, he came alone and I know 
 nothing about him." 
 
 Jack interrogated further; but the landlord was 
 reticent; nor dare he mention the name of Krumm 
 for fear of disclosing his knowledge of the affair. He 
 therefore lounged about for a while in the hope of 
 seeing some one who would answer to the description 
 of Krumm as Phillip had given it, but without suc- 
 cess. 
 
 Finally he left and returned to his friends, who 
 were impatiently awaiting him at the corner, and in- 
 formed them of the f ruitlessness of his inquiries. 
 
 Nothing remained but to give up the search for 
 that day, and Sammy, after telling Phillip of the ar- 
 rangements made for him for the night and follow- 
 ing morning, as planned by Jack, was released until 
 the next day, while the other two boys returned to 
 the home of Mrs. O'Donnell. 
 
 Let us now, for a few moments, return to Peter 
 Gross. 
 
 On the day he started out to do his business in the 
 city, leaving Phillip sound asleep in his room, he re- 
 turned to the hotel shortly after one o'clock. He 
 looked for Phillip, first in the office and then in his 
 room. Not finding him there he searched the writ- 
 ing-, smoking-, billiard-, and other rooms, and not get- 
 ting sight of Phillip in any of them he inquired of 
 the clerk. The clerk had not seen the boy, but a bell- 
 boy standing near said that he had seen him sitting 
 in the front window until near noon and then start 
 
 71
 
 PLUCK 
 
 out with a young, smart-looking chap, whom he sup- 
 posed to be a friend. 
 
 Mr. Gross thought this strange, because he did not 
 know of any friends that Phillip could have in the 
 city ; but all he could do was to await his return. 
 
 When after an hour the boy had not come back, he 
 got his dinner and started out to complete his busi- 
 ness, thinking that on his return Phillip would be sure 
 to be back. He had with him samples of the wines 
 he had purchased in Southern Germany and was en- 
 deavoring to dispose of a part of the cargo to New 
 York dealers. Being a good judge and shrewd buyer 
 he had no difficulty in disposing of as much of his 
 stock as he had intended, at a good profit, and re- 
 turned to the hotel quite elated at his success, at about 
 seven o'clock. 
 
 On his arrival at the hotel he was very much sur- 
 prised to find his charge still absent ; and when, after 
 close inquiry, he found that the boy had not been back 
 during the afternoon, he became uneasy. 
 
 Now, Mr. Gross, although a man of considerable 
 ability in his line, was inexperienced in many other 
 matters, and but little acquainted with the dangers 
 surrounding the "green" immigrant in the City of 
 New York. He and his friends had met with a wel- 
 come reception when they came to this country twenty 
 years before, and none had cause to complain of any 
 attempts to defraud or rob them. The fact was, they 
 had nothing to be robbed of ; and "emigrant sharks" 
 rarely fail to promptly discover this and let such 
 alone. He had now and then heard rumors of emi- 
 grants being led astray, but none of his friends having 
 
 72
 
 LOST IN NEW YORK 
 
 ever fallen victim, he had paid little attention to 
 them. 
 
 When, therefore, on his return, he found Phillip 
 still gone, although feeling uneasy, he apprehended 
 no serious evil, and, after waiting a while, went to 
 supper. 
 
 After supper he sat in the hotel office and smoked, 
 and after a while quietly dozed in his chair. Hour 
 after hour rolled by, but Phillip did not appear. At 
 about ten o'clock Mr. Gross awoke, and, noticing the 
 lateness of the hour, made inquiries of the clerk. He 
 was informed that the boy had not been seen. A 
 messenger was sent up to the room, but returned with 
 the information that he was not there. 
 
 The old gentleman was now seriously alarmed and 
 asked the clerk what he had better do. The clerk, 
 when he heard the circumstances fully, advised Mr. 
 Gross to inform the police as speedily as possible, as 
 he suspected the boy had been lured away to be 
 robbed. Under the guidance of one of the bell-boys, 
 the old gentleman immediately went to the nearest 
 police headquarters and laid the matter before the 
 superintendent in charge. He gave the best descrip- 
 tion of Phillip that he could, and offered to pay all 
 expenses incurred in the search. 
 
 A vigorous investigation was at once set on foot by 
 the police and continued for several days. The next 
 morning Mr. Gross caused advertisements for the 
 missing boy to be inserted in a number of the leading 
 dailies, and himself travelled about the city in vain 
 hope of running across his young friend somewhere. 
 
 73
 
 PLUCK 
 
 That these efforts were all without success is but 
 natural when it is remembered that during the time 
 Phillip lay neglected in a distant police station, vainly 
 awaiting trial, without even an entry or record of his 
 name or description of his person having been made 
 which might have drawn the attention of the author- 
 ities to him. And on the day he was discharged, un- 
 der the unusual reprimand of the court to the officers, 
 none of them for the moment thought of the inquiry 
 set on foot for a boy of that description ; and if later 
 they did Phillip had disappeared. 
 
 When at the end of six days all search and inquiry 
 had been futile, Mr. Gross was very much disheart- 
 ened ; added to this came a telegram from home that 
 his immediate departure was imperative. His wife, 
 who was almost as rotund as himself, had an attack of 
 apoplexy, and her recovery was doubtful. 
 
 He again visited police headquarters and urged 
 them not to give up the search, at the same time leav- 
 ing his address and supplying money for necessary 
 expenses. In case the boy was found they were to 
 forward him to Philadelphia at once. And with a 
 heavy heart the good man took the next train for his 
 home. 
 
 The police faithfully continued the search, but 
 without success until nearly two weeks later, as will 
 be hereafter related.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SEARCH SUCCESSFUL. 
 
 the morning following Jack's visit to 
 Pfeffer's, Sammy showed up bright and 
 early, and it was agreed that they 
 should each get their usual bundle of 
 papers and, while selling them, make search for 
 the hotel where Mr. Gross had lodged in the lower 
 end of the city ; and in order to gain more ready ad- 
 mittance everywhere Phillip was also to take papers 
 to sell. Newsboys always gained admission when idle 
 loafers would be excluded. But Phillip's "green" 
 appearance must first be modified somewhat; Jack 
 therefore had him wear one of his own hats and leave 
 the little German cap at home, because it was too 
 distinguishing a mark of his nationality. The neces- 
 sary selling cry Phillip soon mastered, and, after vis- 
 iting the printing office, the three started down town 
 fully equipped. 
 
 That day was spent in visiting Castle Garden and 
 the lower end of the city ; but nowhere could Phillip 
 recognize any distinguishing mark which might help 
 him to identify the course they had taken ; and even 
 if he had, he retained but an uncertain recollection of 
 the distance they had walked to the hotel. 
 
 75
 
 PLUCK 
 
 The sights, however, which he saw all day, the surg- 
 ing, hurrying, busy mass of humanity, the great 
 buildings, the rushing street cars, and the thousands 
 of vehicles winding their seemingly perilous way 
 rapidly through the throng all together held a won- 
 derful charm for him. It was, indeed, a new world 
 into which he had been transplanted. At times he 
 half forgot his quest, so much was he entranced by 
 what he saw; and then again he would recollect and 
 be filled with anxiety. 
 
 That night when they returned to Jack's home, he 
 was very tired, and after a hearty supper, slept the 
 sleep of the innocent. The more he had reflected, the 
 easier he had felt, because after all no harm had come 
 to him except losing his money and letters, and in 
 place he found two warm-hearted little friends, to say 
 nothing of Mrs. O'Donnell. And Mr. Gross was un- 
 doubtedly safe and would soon be found. Besides he 
 had learned that day how he could earn enough to 
 live : The papers he sold, Jack told him, left a clear 
 profit of fourteen cents, and he had but half tried and 
 knew he could do better with practice. So that if 
 worse came to worst he still felt safe. 
 
 When he awoke in the morning Sammy was already 
 there, and, after a hurried breakfast, they again start- 
 ed out. To-day they intended to search directly for 
 the hotel, and it was again necessary that they stay 
 together, as Phillip was the only one who could 
 identify it if found. All day they trudged along from 
 street to street, entering many hotels to see whether 
 Phillip would recognize one of them as the right one, 
 but without success. This was continued day after 
 
 76
 
 THE SEARCH SUCCESSFUL 
 
 day, for a week, until it seemed that they must have 
 visited every leading hotel in the city. 
 
 Phillip had now about given up hope of finding 
 Mr. Gross. He had picked up many English words 
 during the last week and was learning to understand 
 Jack with very little aid from Sammy. Every even- 
 ing after Sammy went home the other two were cast 
 upon their own resources to make each other under- 
 stand their desires, and the force of necessity sharp- 
 ened intellect and memory. The last few days Phillip 
 had made quite rapid progress, and he felt certain 
 that in this way he would in a short time be able to 
 speak the English language well enough for his wants. 
 This life of excitement had an irresistible charm for 
 him, and had it not been for the thought of Mr. Gross' 
 possible anxiety he would have been quite happy in 
 his new surroundings. 
 
 Laboriously, for several days, Jack spelled 
 through the advertisements in a large number of the 
 city papers which he had managed to pick up in hotel 
 lobbies and like places during the day, but meeting 
 with no success, he gave it up. When all efforts re- 
 mained fruitless so long a time, he tried to encourage 
 Phillip. 
 
 "Never mind, Phil," he said one day, when the 
 boy looked tired and downhearted; "if we can't find 
 Mr. Gross you can stay with me and granma and 
 earn your own living. I always liked the kids better 
 who had to hustle for their pennies, than such little 
 dandies as we see every day whose pop is rich, and 
 who do nothing but play and loaf all the time. I'll 
 
 77
 
 PLUCK 
 
 teach you how to shine shoes, too, and with that and 
 selling papers you can live like a king." 
 
 Phillip agreed with him. He was so much enam- 
 ored of this free, easy and exciting life, that he had 
 already made up his mind to ask Mr. Gross' consent 
 to remain in New York a while longer, in case they 
 found him. 
 
 It was Sunday evening, and, since they had labored 
 hard at their search all week, Jack proposed that they 
 take a ride on the street car down to the central part 
 of the city and visit some place of amusement. They 
 accordingly set out, first calling on their friend 
 Sammy, who had become almost inseparable from 
 them, to take him along. 
 
 Sammy was just having a hard time of it at home. 
 His father, who had as usual been carousing all day, 
 had returned, much under the influence of liquor, 
 and had seized the boy and beaten him for bringing 
 home less money than usual, during the preceding 
 week. Owing to the fact that he had helped so dili- 
 gently in the search, Sammy had been unable to de- 
 vote as much effort as formerly to selling his papers 
 and shining shoes ; and consequently his earnings had 
 fallen off considerable. His mother was crying and 
 begging the brute to let the child alone ; but this only 
 infuriated him the more, and he flung her aside and 
 fairly threw the little fellow out of the door, telling 
 him he could have no lodging there unless he brought 
 home some more money. 
 
 Jack and Phillip happened along just as Sammy 
 was picking himself up from the rough board walk 
 leading past the house. He ceased crying as the boys 
 
 78
 
 THE SEARCH SUCCESSFUL 
 
 canie up and to their inquiries answered that his 
 father would not let him sleep there that night be- 
 cause he had not earned enough money the week be- 
 fore. 
 
 "Never mind," said Jack, "you can sleep with me ; 
 and now we want you to go down town with us to have 
 a good time. And say, Sammy, if your dad is so ugly 
 why don't you run away ? I wouldn't stand it for a 
 minute." 
 
 Sammy only shook his head and answered, "Ma 
 cannot spare me." He was glad, however, to avail 
 himself of the double invitation for that night, and 
 with the buoyancy of youth soon forgot his pain and 
 distress in the fun of the evening. 
 
 They visited a number of places which furnished 
 amusements such as boys would enjoy, and, after a 
 lapse of several hours, thinking they had had suffi- 
 cient fun for one night, they started for home. They 
 were going to ride back on a stret car and were walk- 
 ing toward the nearest street corner to wait for a 
 friendly conductor, when Phillip suddenly stopped 
 and stood staring into a large open window across the 
 street. The crowd had thinned down considerable 
 because it was getting late and Phillip had, therefore, 
 an unobstructed view. 
 
 "What are you looking at ?" said Sammy, who was 
 the first to observe his actions. 
 
 "Oh, Chak, I denk das ist de hotel !" Phillip ex- 
 claimed, excitedly. 
 
 Jack glanced in the direction of Phillip's look and 
 in fact saw a hotel building with its first story almost 
 entirely composed of stores and mercantile establish- 
 
 79
 
 PLUCK 
 
 merits. Only one space on the first floor seemed to 
 be occupied as a part of the hotel, and this was the 
 part Phillip was looking at. It was evidently the of- 
 fice, as one could see chairs placed about the room 
 and a long desk for the clerks at the further end. 
 This hotel had been entirely overlooked in their 
 search, nor was it surprising, owing to its peculiar 
 construction which made it resemble rather a row of 
 store buildings than a hotel. 
 
 They crossed the street and entered. At the same 
 moment Phillip shouted "Das ist es," forgetting his 
 newly acquired English in his excitement. 
 
 Jack went up to the clerk and inquired whether a 
 gentleman from Philadelphia by the name of Gross 
 was stopping there. The clerk glanced at the register 
 and answered in the negative. Jack asked him when 
 he left, and on ascertaining the time of his arrival 
 the clerk soon recalled the gentleman and stated that 
 he had been summoned home more than a week ago. 
 
 Jack asked him whether he had left any word for 
 the little boy who had come there with him, and the 
 clerk on noticing Phillip recognized him and remem- 
 bered the fact of his disappearance and the unsuccess- 
 ful search. 
 
 He gave them all the information he could and 
 directed them to the police department, where they 
 would find full instructions from Mr. Gross as to the 
 boy. They were too excited to answer fully as to 
 where Phillip had kept himself all this time, and only 
 told him they had been searching in vain for this hotel 
 for more than a week, and then rushed away to the 
 department the clerk had designated. 
 
 80
 
 It was getting late and when they got there the 
 superintendent had left for the night, so that they 
 found only a subordinate officer in charge, who, al- 
 though he remembered the affair, could not give them 
 much information, and requested them to call again 
 in the morning, at which time the superintendent 
 would be there. 
 
 Nothing remaining to be done the boys returned 
 home, a happy and excited lot. Jack and Sammy felt 
 inclined at times to be depressed, because they had 
 become attached to their young friend and hated to 
 have him go away. 
 
 Phillip, however, was happy, and fairly boiling 
 over with glee. He had already made up his mind 
 that he would not at once go to Philadelphia, but 
 would write Mr. Gross his present situation, and that 
 he intended to remain in New York for a short time 
 longer. 
 
 When he told his friends of his intentions, in his 
 mixed German and English, so that Jack understood 
 as soon as Sammy, they were almost as happy as he. 
 
 Jack proposed that in the morning Sammy should 
 devote himself to his newspapers and "shines," while 
 he and Phillip called on the Superintendent of Police, 
 in order that he might not again risk the anger of his 
 father; but Sammy wouldn't listen to it. He would 
 go with them even if he earned nothing and had to 
 take a whipping. 
 
 When they arrived at home Mrs. O'Donnell let 
 them in and when she heard the good news she hugged 
 Phillip in her joyous excitement ; but suddenly recol- 
 
 81
 
 PLUCK 
 
 lecting that this probably meant Phillip's departure, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Oh, but it's ill news ye air bringin' me all the 
 same. But, Phillip, yes want lave yer granny, will 
 ye me bye," she added, coaxingly. "Shtay with us, 
 Phillip, because we can't shpare ye at all at all," and 
 the good creature started to cry. 
 
 When Jack informed her of Phillip's intentions 
 she hugged him again, and for once found no further 
 cause for lamentation. 
 
 The next morning the three repaired to the super- 
 intendent of police. When they arrived he was al- 
 ready busy in his office, but, being informed that it 
 was the boy whom they had searched for in vain, 
 who was waiting to see him, he soon disposed of his 
 other visitors and directed our friends to be admitted. 
 
 His experienced eye immediately recognized 
 Phillip from the description furnished by Mr. Gross, 
 although he was not surprised that others had failed 
 of recognition on seeing him on the streets. The two 
 weeks of city life of the kind experienced by our 
 friend, coupled with the change of headwear, cut of 
 hair and partial change of clothes, adopted at the sug- 
 gestion of Jack, left him little of the appearance of 
 the newly landed little "Dutchman," as described by 
 Mr. Gross. 
 
 He was familiar with the German language, and 
 after questioning Jack to some extent, requested 
 Phillip to relate all that had happened to him since 
 that morning at the hotel. 
 
 Phillip complied, relating all from the time of 
 being approached by Krumm until his discovery of 
 
 82
 
 THE SEARCH SUCCESSFUL 
 
 the hotel on the preceding night. The superintend- 
 ent was much interested and questioned him fully as 
 to his relations with Mr. Gross and his past and 
 present friends. Of his parents, too, he had to relate, 
 and the cause of his leaving home. For a full hour our 
 hero answered his friendly questions as well as he 
 could; and finally the superintendent informed him 
 that Mr. Gross had arranged that he was to be sent 
 on to Philadelphia as soon as found, and had left a 
 sum of money at his disposal for that purpose. 
 
 The boy answered that he wished to stay with his 
 new friends in New York for a time, because he could 
 learn English here very quickly and had already 
 found a way to support himself by selling papers and 
 shining shoes. He begged the superintendent to in- 
 form Mr. Gross, and that he also would write to him. 
 
 The superintendent did not attempt to dissuade 
 him from his purpose, because he knew Mr. Gross had 
 no legal rights over him, and because he admired the 
 pluck the lad had shown; and also because he knew 
 that the experiences natural to his present life would 
 be one of the best schools to teach the way to success. 
 He therefore telegraphed Mr. Gross that the boy 
 was found safe and well and that a letter would fol- 
 low. He gave Phillip Mr. Gross' address and directed 
 him to report to him when he wanted the money for 
 the trip to Philidalephia. Another thing he did, on 
 the impulse of the moment for Phillip's truthful 
 recital of his past had disclosed to him the founda- 
 tions of a manly character he gave him a card di- 
 recting any officer to immediately communicate to 
 him any request made by the bearer thereof, and told 
 
 83
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Phillip to make use of it if he should get iuto further 
 trouble. He then dismissed them. 
 
 Thus it happened that Phillip was led to spend sev- 
 eral years of his young life as a "street Arab" in 
 New York City; not, perhaps, as that word is some- 
 times applied, not as a child of the slums, but as one 
 of those energetic, wide-awake, dare-devil young fel- 
 lows, whose life is spent midst the crush and crowds 
 of the streets, exposed to rains and storms, risks and 
 dangers, and temptations of every nature, while 
 "crying" their papers, or kneeling in the dust to shine 
 the shoes of dude or gentleman. 
 
 And thus, too, a friendship was formed between 
 three lads which blossomed to bear joyous fruit to 
 them all in the years to come. 
 
 It is not my intention to weary the reader with an 
 attempt to detail the manifold experiences of our 
 young German friend during the next few years in 
 the life he has just chosen to follow. This history is 
 intended rather to direct the reader's attention to the 
 labors and experiences of his maturer years under 
 surroundings more common to those who have had 
 their source in the "Fatherland" and, who transposed 
 to America, have pushed forward through hardships 
 and misfortune to eventual success. 
 
 And yet I cannot wholly omit reference to his life 
 in New York City during the next four years; be- 
 cause the experiences of the boy during those years, 
 though of little importance taken singly, were a potent 
 influence and force in developing and moulding the 
 character which afterward distinguished the man. 
 Many times, in after years, Phillip remarked that of 
 
 84
 
 THE SEARCH SUCCESSFUL 
 
 all his experiences in life those of New York City 
 had been the most fruitful. 
 
 Briefly, therefore, and only briefly, permit me in 
 the next few chapters to sketch his career from the 
 time he left the office of the Superintendent of Police 
 until the day, nearly four years later, when he and 
 Sam Dornbush bade farewell to Jack and grandma 
 CXDonnell to seek their fortunes in the great West. 
 
 85
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LEARNING THE HOPES. 
 
 w 
 
 the boys returned to Mrs. O'Donnell's 
 it was after twelve o'clock ; so they ate their 
 dinner, and then Jack and Sammy started 
 out to put in an afternoon of hard work at 
 their trade of shining shoes and paper selling, which 
 latter would begin as soon as the afternoon editions 
 were issued. 
 
 Phillip remained at home and wrote letters to Mr. 
 Gross and to his parents. He had written the latter 
 but once since he left shipboard, and felt that it was 
 time to write again. He wrote a fairly good hand in 
 German, thanks to the persistent drill of his father, 
 and there was certainly no lack of experiences to re- 
 late. To Mr. Gross he wrote a full account of all that 
 had happened to him since that morning at the hotel. 
 He was extravagant in his praise of Jack and Sammy 
 and Mrs. (^Donnell, and related all he could think 
 of to show that he was safe and among good friends. 
 He then asked permission to remain in New York for 
 a while longer. At the last he begged the favor to 
 draw the money left in the hands of the superintend- 
 ent of police for his use in making the journey to 
 Philadelphia, in order that he might send it to his 
 
 86
 
 LEARNING THE ROPES 
 
 father, assuring Mr. Gross very earnestly that he 
 could soon earn enough himself to pay for the trip, 
 and pay back the money. 
 
 The reply from Mr. Gross was characteristic of the 
 man. He was jubilant that no harm had come to 
 Phillip, and was willing he should stay for a short 
 time ; but the money in the hands of the superintend- 
 ent must remain there until he came. He had, how- 
 ever, by the same mail sent some more money to the 
 superintendent, which the latter would help him for- 
 ward to his father. The old gentleman was evidently 
 in a very happy state of mind. His wife, whose sud- 
 den illness had compelled his hasty return home, was 
 recovering, and he himself never felt better in his life. 
 
 The fact that Phillip had asked his consent to stay 
 in New York for a time, flattered him immensely, 
 and he felt almost a fatherly regard for the boy ; and 
 after much good advice he wound up his long letter 
 with his best effort at English probably expecting 
 that Jack would be called to to interpret it and thus 
 at the same time become impressed with his wishes 
 "und don't forget dat you must komm home as gwick 
 as you haf seen de hull cidy." 
 
 Phillip was duly rejoiced at this kind letter and 
 called on the superintendent, who showed him a draft 
 for one hundred dollars, which he had been requested 
 to have converted into European exchange and send 
 to Mr. Bertram. This was done, and, with a note of 
 explanation, it in due time reached its destination. 
 
 If the previous letter had gladdened the parents' 
 hearts by telling of the safety of their darling boy, 
 this filled them to overflowing, for it seemed as 
 
 87
 
 PLUCK 
 
 though blessings were already beginning to flow from 
 their self-sacrificing act. The money came as a god- 
 send and seemed almost a fortune to the poor school- 
 master in his pinched circumstances. Of the many 
 gifts Phillip later sent them, none ever gladdened 
 their hearts more, or came more opportune. 
 
 After sending this letter to his parents and another 
 to Mr. Gross, Phillip's mind was at ease, and he was 
 ready to devote himself to business. 
 
 From that time on the boys worked industriously 
 at their trade. Early in the morning and until late 
 at night they cried their papers or solicited shines 
 from the passers-by. The little greenhorn rapidly 
 acquired the street English of his fellows, and before 
 three months had passed could speak it with tolerable 
 readiness. He had a quick, retentive mind, and was 
 a close observer of his surroundings, and soon knew 
 as much of the streets of New York as many of his 
 young friends who were born there. 
 
 He was surprised to find the little urchins of the 
 trade, who had given him such an uncomfortable re- 
 ception at his first encounter with them, so nice to get 
 along with. They were a lot of impulsive, reckless, 
 warm-hearted little fellows, and he soon learned to 
 like their companionship. His connection with Jack, 
 as his chum, gained him good treatment, even from 
 the few who might otherwise have been inclined to 
 annoy him ; but his own ready sympathy for each lit- 
 tle fellow's troubles did more to gain him friends 
 among them than Jack's protection. 
 
 Also he was earning more money each day than his 
 father's week's salary amounted to. He had agreed
 
 LEARNING THE ROPES 
 
 with "Granina" O'Donnell, as both boys called her, 
 to pay her a regular sum for his board, and he and 
 Jack slept together in one bed which had been consid- 
 erably improved since the addition of some of the 
 linen from Phillip's little trunk which Mr. Gross had 
 forwarded to him at his request. 
 
 Thus the summer passed and winter came with all 
 its storms and hardships. Mr. Gross had written sev- 
 eral times requesting Phillip to come, but the latter 
 persistently begged for leave to remain a while longer, 
 until Mr. Gross reluctantly consented. Mrs. O'Don- 
 nell had laid in a good stock of fuel and Jack and 
 Phillip earned all the money necessary for a com- 
 fortable living ; but Phillip had ample opportunity to 
 witness want and suffering among those who lived 
 lives of vice and crime. Associating, as he did, only 
 with boys of the poorest classes some of whose par- 
 ents fed their appetites for strong drink on the hard- 
 earned pennies of their young offspring, without a 
 thought for the future he saw them experience the 
 sufferings of hunger, cold and disease without means 
 to help them. 
 
 Often the women were as bad as the men ; and the 
 children readily drifting into the same paths, in emu- 
 lation of their elders, presented, altogether, a picture 
 of moral disease, that needed but the addition of 
 physical suffering to make it wholly revolting and piti- 
 able. 
 
 Sometimes, however, it was only the father's weak- 
 ness that had dragged his wife and children to pov- 
 erty, and such cases appealed so strongly to Phillip's 
 sympathetic heart, that his little gifts of charity left 
 
 89
 
 PLUCK 
 
 him no savings during the bitter cold months of his 
 first winter in New York. He would have given away 
 all his daily earnings had not Mrs. O'Donnell insisted 
 upon the prompt payment of his board. As it was, 
 his little previous savings were gone long before 
 spring opened. Sammy was taken sick and he and his 
 feeble mother would probably have been left to starve 
 by the drunken father and husband had not Phillip 
 and Jack supplied their daily wants. 
 
 But, in spite of hard work and long hours, the boys 
 found time for fun. Jack would not give up his pu- 
 gilistic ambition. Every fight or boxing bout found 
 him an intensely interested spectator, and soon he in- 
 duced Phillip to acompany him. Pat Flynn still gave 
 him lessons now and then and they were faithfully 
 rehearsed at home with Phillip, in spite of gran-ma's 
 remonstrance. Jack had bought a set of soft gloves 
 and many hours of the long winter evenings were 
 passed in the healthy exercise of boxing, Granma 
 O'Donnell, although she was constantly scolding 
 about it, was always an excited spectator, and some- 
 times when one or the other got in a "scientific" blow 
 she would forget herself and shout : 
 
 "Oh, but that was a daisy, wasn't it, byes. Ye 
 can't do it agin, I'll bet !" 
 
 Jack had the best of Phillip for a long time. He 
 was taller and had greater "reach," although the lat- 
 ter was as quick of movement as he, and no amount of 
 "punishment" seemed to affect him. But, when now 
 and then he got one of his solid blows in on Jack, it 
 had a tendency to make the latter wince. Gradually 
 
 90
 
 LEARNING THE ROPES 
 
 it became a question hard to determine which of the 
 two would come out best in case of a test to the finish. 
 
 Thus the winter slowly passed and spring came 
 with its warming sunshine and balmy days. The poor 
 suffered no longer from exposure to cold, and the 
 power of disease felt the conquering effect of the 
 vitalizing spring air. 
 
 Phillip had received two letters from home, each 
 breathing a wealth of love, and laden with gentlest ex- 
 hortation to industry and virtue. Each brought on a 
 spell of homesickness, which it took several weeks to 
 overcome. He had written of his progress in Eng- 
 lish, his earnings and his experiences and observa- 
 tions; and had always pictured his future in rosiest 
 light. He now got a letter that set him to thinking. 
 His father urged him to endeavor to continue his edu- 
 cation, because, he wrote, "Without a good education 
 your dreams of future success will never be realized." 
 
 Phillip felt that the life he was leading and his 
 associations tended to lead him to forget much of his 
 father's good advice and his mother's prayerful teach- 
 ings, and he resolved to do better in the future. He 
 had often wished to be able to read the newspapers, 
 and with Jack's assistance had even learned the alpha- 
 bet and to spell out the headlines; but he knew he 
 needed much more ; and with the awakening of con- 
 science came also the desire to progress. 
 
 One morning he almost knocked Jack over with the 
 remark : 
 
 "Ghack, I'm going to school." 
 
 This was such an unheard-of resolve that Jack 
 could only gasp in astonishment: 
 
 91
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Going where?" 
 
 "Going to school," Phillip repeated; "I want to 
 learn to read and write." 
 
 "But how will you earn your living if you go to 
 school ?" Jack queried. 
 
 "Oh, I'm not going to de day school ; I read a sign 
 de odder day over on Broome Street where it said 
 'Night School, 7 to 10 efery night/ and I'm going 
 dere to-night and see wedder I can't tchoin," 
 
 "Of course you can join," said Jack, "but then 
 what's to become of all our fun, evenings ?" 
 
 "I can't help dat, Chack; I want to learn some- 
 ding. I can't efen read de newsbabers wat we sell 
 efery day, and you can't nieder. You go along and 
 maybe we have some fun dere too." 
 
 Jack looked dubious ; and he didn't like to miss his 
 companion during the evenings, because without him 
 it didn't seem as though he could have much fun. At 
 first he tried to talk Phillip out of the notion, but 
 when he found him obdurate he finally said : 
 
 "Well, how long do you propose to go ?" 
 
 "Oh, dill we get dired of it," Phillip replied. 
 
 The old lady seconded Phillip so heartily that Jack 
 at last yielded. 
 
 "I'll go with you to-night, but if I don't like it, I 
 won't promise to go again. Work all day and go to 
 school at night is too much." 
 
 This conversation took place one morning at the 
 breakfast table; and during the day they communi- 
 cated their new resolution to a number of their young 
 companions, with the result that half a dozen more 
 agreed to join. Sammy, who had recovered from his 
 
 92
 
 LEARNING THE ROPES 
 
 illness, was as enthusiastic as Phillip, if it only didn't 
 cost too much. Phillip promised to help him out if 
 it was necessary, and Jack, on the theory that "mis- 
 ery likes company," argued energetically to the others 
 of the great benefit of being able to read the papers 
 which they sold so as to be able to better announce 
 their contents to their prospective customers. 
 
 When evening came a little band of nine as bright 
 and some dirty young future millionaires and 
 bank presidents assembled in the alley in front of 
 Jack's house to march down to the "night school," as 
 could be found in the city. 
 
 93
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL. 
 
 TJHE building in which the school was kept 
 I was a large three-story affair, the lower 
 floor of which was used as a grocery store, 
 the second for offices, and the third by the 
 night school. 
 
 The boys clambered noisily up the wooden stair- 
 ways, and the "Professor" must have thought a squad 
 of police coming, for he met them at the door with a 
 startled look. He was not less startled when he saw 
 the little band file boldly by him and heard their re- 
 quest. 
 
 Quickly recovering himself, however, and in reply 
 to their questions as to his charges, he informed them 
 of his very reasonable fee, and they answered they 
 could pay that and were ready to begin. 
 
 There were but four or five scholars present when 
 our young friends entered, and two of them were 
 very tidily dressed little girls. The professor assigned 
 each of the boys to a seat behind a little desk, and 
 proceeded to examine them as to the extent of their 
 present knowledge. He was a tall, thin man with a 
 large bald spot on the top of his head, wearing silver- 
 rimmed spectacles on his prominent nose ; a bachelor, 
 a little hard of hearing, living in the same building, 
 
 94
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 at the rear end of the second floor, with his maiden 
 sister; and his name was Jonathan Yale a fact 
 which led some of his young pupils, in later years, to 
 jocosely remark that "Yale" gave them their early 
 education. It may be that some of them afterward 
 attended that famous institution, but it is not likely. 
 
 After the examination the professor gave a general 
 outline of what he proposed to teach them, and he pos- 
 sessed the gift of making his remarks interesting and 
 the prospects of further knowledge alluring to his 
 new pupils, so that when they left they were all 
 strongly confirmed in their desire to proceed. After 
 telling them what books to purchase and where they 
 could be had, he dismissed them for that night, with 
 the request to be prompt on the next, and adding with 
 a very kindly smile : "And, boys, if you will all wash 
 your hands and faces real clean before you come you 
 will please me very much." 
 
 This request, made in the manner in which it was, 
 had the desired effect and at once called these little 
 "Arabs' " attention to the necessity for improvement 
 in their personal appearance. 
 
 The boys started for home, which was nearly a 
 mile distant, talking and laughing, and thinking it 
 great sport to come out every night together ; for they 
 knew they would always have some kind of fun on 
 the way. But this evening in particular should not 
 pass without making them all, and especially Jack, 
 almost fall in love with going to school. 
 
 They had proceed a few blocks eastward and just 
 turned to the south, when Phillip seized Jack by the 
 coat sleeve and excitedly whispered in his ear : "Dere 
 
 95
 
 PLUCK 
 
 is Krumm,Chack,see him?" and pointed in the direc- 
 tion of two young fellows, about the age of Jack, com- 
 ing directly toward them. 
 
 "Which one ?" Jack exclaimed, equally as excited 
 in an instant. 
 
 "Dere, dat one nearest de lamp bost, wid de blug 
 hat on." 
 
 Just at that instant the two approaching figures 
 passed into a saloon but a few paces ahead of the 
 boys. 
 
 Phillip in all these months had not seen Krumm, 
 although he was ever keeping a sharp lookout for 
 him; and, although the latter was now dressed like 
 a swell and had grown considerable, Phillip recog- 
 nized him at once. 
 
 "Come, boys," said Jack, jumping to the front and 
 taking the lead, "here is that skunk that helped to rob 
 Phil. Now let's get even with him." 
 
 So saying he led the way into the saloon Krumm 
 and his friend had just entered, followed by the rest. 
 
 There was not one of the little band who had not 
 heard of Phillip's initiation into New York life and 
 Krumm's connection with the same, and they were all 
 anxious to see what Jack would do with him, and if 
 possible to take part in punishing him. 
 
 When the group entered the saloon, Krumm and 
 his friend were standing at the bar taking a drink. 
 No one else was present in the room, except the bar- 
 tender. 
 
 Jack walked straight up to the young crook and 
 slapped him on the shoulder, at the same time turn- 
 ing him partly around so as to face him. 
 
 96
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 "So you are Krumm, Mr. Jacob Goldluchs ! That is 
 the way you get your money to wear such fine clothes, 
 you crook ! You got the right name this time. Phil- 
 lip says Krumm is German for crooked. Now I'm 
 going to help straighten you out a little, Mr. 'Krumm,' 
 and maybe soil your clothes, too." So saying Jack 
 drew off his coat and threw it to one of the boys, who 
 quickly formed a semi-circle around the pair, while 
 Krumm's partner, or rather Jacob Goldluchs, as his 
 true name was, as quickly edged away from the latter 
 and made his way unmolested to the door. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" said the bartender, 
 roughly, hurriedly coming around the end of the bar 
 to where the boys stood. 
 
 "I'll tell you what's the matter," said Jack, loudly, 
 while "Krumm," seeing no way of escape, still stood 
 leaning against the counter without understanding 
 Avhat Jack was alluding to, so completely had the oc- 
 casion when he had assumed the name of Krumm 
 passed from his mind, although he felt that it must 
 be one of the many crooked acts which he had com- 
 mitted, "that is the skunk who got my chum into 
 Pfeffer's a year ago and had him robbed. You re- 
 member Danter, the policeman, whom he fooled too, 
 and who afterwards got locked up for five days and 
 was suspended from the force for three months be- 
 cause he forgot to enter the boy's name ? Well, there's 
 Phillip, he's the boy they robbed, and we've been 
 looking for that stool-pigeon ever since, hain't we, 
 boys; but we couldn't find him because we didn't 
 know that the handsome dandy there, Jacob Gold- 
 luchs, was 'Krumm'." 
 
 97
 
 PLUCK Jf 
 
 "Yes, Banter told me all about it only a week ago 
 last Sunday afternoon, when I met him at Sander- 
 son's on Stair Street. Square up there, 'Krumm,' 
 and let's see if you can fight as well as rob people. 
 I'll look the door till we see the result." And suiting 
 the action to the word the bartender proceeded to bolt 
 the door to prevent interruption of a sport he 
 enjoyed. 
 
 Goldluchs had turned pale when he heard of the 
 particular offense for which he was to be taken to 
 account, but recovered himself when he observed that 
 Jack was certainly no older or stronger than himself. 
 He was no coward and would not take a whipping 
 without resistance, and the bartender would probably 
 want to see fair play; at any rate to fight was his 
 only chance. 
 
 When, therefore, Jack approached him again he 
 threw off his coat and told him to "come on, you liar 
 I never saw that boy before and had nothing to do 
 with robbing him." 
 
 But he hadn't sized up Jack exactly right ! To be 
 called a liar in addition to his righteous indignation 
 at the outrage perpetrated on his friend was like 
 touching a match to a pile of tinder, and all his scien- 
 tific pugilistic training leaped like lightning to his 
 control. 
 
 With the rapidity of thought he sprang at his oppo- 
 nent and showered the blows like hailstones upon him. 
 There was no chance to feint or guard. Mouth, jaws, 
 ears, nose, eyes and neck got it; the left and right fist 
 were doing equal service ; an upper-cut would be fol- 
 lowed by a stunner from underneath, until, fairly be- 
 
 98
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 wildered, Goldluchs simply held up both arms to 
 ward off as much as possible the terrible punishment 
 he was receiving. 
 
 "Ye would rob the poor bye, would ye," panted 
 Jack, between blows, falling back into his natural 
 brogue while doing such splendid execution, "ye 
 skunk, ye thief, ye scoundrel; ye would take him to 
 yer fayther's hotel, would ye, and bring him back to 
 Mr. Gross, would ye, you miserable cur ! Oi'll tache 
 yer to rob poor innercint lads whin they came to this 
 counthry. Oi'll tache yer to have thim thrown into 
 jail ! Whiniver Oi mate ye we'll have the foon over 
 and over agin !" 
 
 With words like these, and I fear some worse, Jack 
 interlarded his fine exercise, while his friends looked 
 on with a delight they had rarely experienced. 
 
 Phillip had called to Jack several times to "quit, 
 he's got enuff," but Jack didn't hear or didn't want 
 to hear him, until Goldluchs sank to the floor exhaust- 
 ed and bleeding from almost every inch of his face. 
 
 Jack turned round to Phillip; "Is it enough, you 
 say ? No, I'll repeat this dose every time I meet him. 
 Oh, I could have given him a knockout blow long 
 ago," he said, proudly, "but I didn't want to knock 
 him out, I wanted to punish him." 
 
 Neither the bartender nor any of the boys had 
 heard the loud knocks and shaking of the door during 
 the excitement until now, when they were repeated 
 with a violence which threatened to force an entrance. 
 The bartender hastened to open. 
 
 99
 
 PLUCK 
 
 A policeman entered, accompanied by Goldluch's 
 friend, who had called him to his assistance as soon 
 as he found trouble liable to ensue. 
 
 Jack promptly confessed himself the guilty party 
 and gloried in his work. He was marched off to the 
 nearest police station, followed by all the boys, feel- 
 ing "happy as a clam." He had never enjoyed him- 
 self so much in his life, and did not care if he was 
 locked up for a month. 
 
 "You take care of granma, Phil, till I get back, 
 and tell her what a glorious time I've had. When I 
 get out I'm going to school every day." 
 
 All the boys felt inclined to credit their adventure 
 to their new-born educational aspirations, and felt 
 that if they could have such a treat now and then they 
 would willingly put up with a few hours of daily re- 
 straint. 
 
 When they left the station Phillip determined to 
 see the magistrate in the morning and tell him why 
 Jack had whipped the fellow. It was the same place 
 where he had been locked up for five days, a year ago, 
 and his sense of justice told him that if the judge only 
 knew all about it he would be likely to let off Jack 
 with a lighter sentence than otherwise. 
 
 When he reached home he found old "granma" 
 waiting for them as usual; and great were her la- 
 mentations when Phillip told her that Jack was at 
 the police station and how it came about. 
 
 "Oh, that bye, that bye ! Sure he'll bring his ould 
 granma to the grave with all the sorrow and inxiety. 
 Oh, Lor', an' they may hang him and Oi'll niver see 
 him inny more!" 
 
 100
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 Phillip tried to console her, but could make no head- 
 way until he accidentally mentioned that he had never 
 seen Jack look so fine or do such beautiful work as 
 when he was punishing Krumm, when she brightened 
 up in a moment. 
 
 "An' did the bartinder see it, too ; an' did he give 
 him wan of his foine lift hand swings as always used 
 to make ye dizzy before ye learned to guard; an' ye 
 soiy he shtruck ivery blow fair an' niver below the 
 belt?" she asked, excitedly; but quickly added as 
 though she felt she had betrayed herself : "Ah, Jack 
 is me darlint bye, but the poor lad can't let fightin' 
 alone, an' kapes me in constint terror an' throuble." 
 
 However, she wanted to know all about the fight, 
 and Philli^ had to describe it again and again; and 
 when she finally sent him to bed she was humming 
 "Saint Pathrick's Day in the Mawrning." 
 
 Next day Phillip went early to the station, but 
 found that court was not yet in session. At about ten 
 o'clock the judge came, and the clerk and other offi- 
 cers took their places. 
 
 "Call No. 1, Mr. clerk," said the judge. Two 
 names were read aloud, and an officer quickly 
 brought in the prisoners. They were two Italians, 
 and a sight to behold ! One had a bandage over the 
 left eye, and the nose and lips swollen to twice their 
 natural size. The other had both eyes and his whole 
 face so swollen and cut and discolored that he bore 
 little resemblance to the "image of God." 
 
 They were laborers, who, in returning from their 
 work early in the evening of the previous day, had 
 stopped to take a drink, and, though good friends, got 
 
 101
 
 PLUCK 
 
 into a quarrel resulting in a fight which only police 
 interference finally terminated. During the night 
 they got entirely over their quarrel and each was 
 willing to admit that the fight had been his fault. 
 
 When the magistrate had briefly heard them ho 
 turned to the clerk. "Enter; No cause for judicial 
 interference prisoners sufficiently self punished 
 discharged." Then he added with a smile, "You 
 might also enter a description of their appearance in 
 support of the judgment of the court." He was evi- 
 dently in good humor that morning, and it was lucky 
 that Jack's case was called before others had a chance 
 to spoil it. 
 
 "Call the next," he commanded, and Phillip heard 
 the "Jack O^Donnell, assault and battery," an- 
 nounced, and a few moments later saw his friend con- 
 ducted into the court room. 
 
 Phillip sat in the rear of the room in one of the 
 seats provided for the spectators, and Jack did not 
 at first see him. After the charge had been read and 
 the officer, who made the arrest, had stated what he 
 knew of the matter, the judge turned to Jack and 
 asked : 
 
 "Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself ?" 
 
 "Nothing," was Jack's short answer. 
 
 "Eh, do you confess yourself guilty?" said the 
 judge, evidently much surprised at such an unusual 
 occurrence. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I licked him as hard as I could, and you 
 would think it was a pretty good job if you'd seen 
 him, your Honor," he added with a half smile as the 
 recollection of Krumm's face came to him. 
 
 102
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 "Then, sir, you are not sorry for your violation of 
 the law, and have no excuse to offer ?" continued the 
 judge, sternly. 
 
 "No, sir, an' I'll do it agin wheriver Oi'l foind 
 him," answered Jack, falling back to his brogue in 
 the excitement induced by the bare remembrance of 
 the scene of the night before. 
 
 "Thirty days first half bread and water," the 
 judge dictated to the clerk. "Call the next !" 
 
 Before the clerk had time to do so, however, a dis- 
 turbance was heard in the back end of the room. 
 Phillip no sooner observed the defiant attitude of his 
 friend and heard the sentence of the court, when he 
 jumped from his seat and started to rush up to where 
 Jack stood before the bar, on the inside of the railing. 
 But an officer intercepted him and held him back. 
 
 "Leave me go, I want to dalk to de chudge," he de- 
 manded loudly, while struggling to free himself. 
 
 "Well, what's the rumpus now," the magistrate ex- 
 claimed, glancing up over his spectacles. 
 
 "Here's a bye, yer Honor, as wants to talk to yer 
 Honor." 
 
 "Then bring him up here," the judge commanded. 
 "Well, what do you mean by such conduct in the court 
 room ?" he continued, looking sternly at Phillip when 
 he had been brought before him. 
 
 "Blease, sir, I want to go to chail. Chack done it 
 for me. Oh, blease let him go home his granma will 
 feel so bad," Phillip answered, the tears coming to 
 his eyes. 
 
 103
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "What's that! you want to go to jail in place of 
 this fellow ; and why, my boy ? What do you know 
 of this matter ?" 
 
 "Oh, sir, Ohack only licked dat Krumm who dook 
 me to Pfeffer's last year, where dey shtole all wat I 
 had, and den got Mr. Danter, de boliceman, to lock 
 me up here for fife days, and den you let me go and 
 locked up de boliceman," Phillip answered hurriedly. 
 
 Happily the magistrate recalled the circumstance, 
 which had at the time so outraged his sense of justice, 
 and his voice was kindly when he again spoke. 
 
 "And Jack licked him because he led you to Pfef- 
 fer's to be robbed? How is this, Jack, tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 Jack now promptly told how he had long kept a 
 sharp lookout for Krumm, but not knowing him by 
 sight, could never find him till last night, when they 
 accidently ran across him as they were coming home 
 from the night school ; and that when Phillip pointed 
 him out he saw it was Jacob Goldluchs ; and then he 
 related with flushed face how he had whipped him; 
 "and, your Honor," he finally wound up, "I'm not 
 sorry and want to go to jail." 
 
 "So this is the little 'Dutchman' they received so 
 warmly in this country," the judge said, turning to 
 Phillip. "Well, you seem to be making pretty good 
 progress, and I'm glad to see you are none the worse 
 for your rough reception. Mr. Clerk, just strike out 
 that entry and make it 'justifiable manslugging'," he 
 added, while a broad smile enveloped his face at his 
 modification and adaptation of a legal term. "And 
 you, Mr. Officer, we'll forgive you because you 
 
 104
 
 THE NIGHT SCHOOL 
 
 couldn't know the circumstances; but you got the 
 wrong boy. Goldluchs is the fellow you should have 
 brought in." Then, turning to our friends, added 
 with more seriousness, "Boys, you can go, and don't 
 be too sure that you will always get off as easy when 
 you take the law into your own hands." 
 
 The boys thanked him and went out, while the 
 judge looked after them with approval in his eyes; 
 then, glancing around at the officers, said : "A regu- 
 lar Damon and Pythias pair. Such incidents are as 
 refreshing as a spring shower. Call the next case." 
 
 105
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHUMS. 
 
 s 
 
 UMME.R passed rapidly, and the long even- 
 ings of fall and winter were again at 
 hand. The boys, with the exception of 
 one, still stuck faithfully to their school. 
 Although they did not again enjoy such great 
 fun as that first evening on the way home, yet rarely 
 an evening passed without sport of some kind. They 
 were full of life and quick to see and appreciate the 
 humorous side of things. Jack, strange to say, was the 
 promptest pupil of them all, though not the most per- 
 fect in his lessons. His deportment had undergone a 
 marked change. His face and hands were always well 
 washed, and he was bound to wear his best clothes. 
 The reason, of course, was not long a secret to the 
 others. It was found in the bright eyes and comely 
 face of Fanny Manners, one of the little girl pupils. 
 But Jack had a quick temper and none dared tease 
 him further than by an occasional veiled allusion. 
 
 Phillip, as a rule, paid good attention to his studies 
 and was making rapid progress. His quite thorough 
 start in education at home came to his advantage now, 
 and he found that all general knowledge was equally 
 as much one's own in whatever language it may have 
 
 106
 
 THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHUMS 
 
 been acquired. He had therefore soon outstripped his 
 classmates and was receiving separate instructions. 
 Only one thing was a constant stumbling block, his 
 tongue persistently refused to assume the right shape 
 for the "v's" and "th's". This annoyed him so that 
 he practiced constantly, sometimes in his sleep even 
 disturbing his chum with his efforts at "v" which al- 
 ways assumed the sound of "fee'. He was happy 
 when he finally got the control, and promptly and 
 joyously wrote the good news to his father. 
 
 He kept his parents well informed of all that he 
 did or that happened in his little circle. To Mr. 
 Gross, too, he wrote now and then and received re- 
 plies. He had about made up his mind to remain in 
 New York at least several years. He liked the life 
 he was leading, though often he longed for the green 
 fields and rustling forests of the country. He did not 
 care to go to Philadelphia, because it was only ex- 
 changing one city for another, and involved leaving 
 all his young friends. He had received no informa- 
 tion concerning the Lawrences, except once Mr. Gross 
 wrote that they left Boston to seek a suitable location 
 in the West, but did not then know where they would 
 settle. They had enquired kindly about Phillip, 
 thinking him with Mr. Gross, and sent their love. 
 Phillip's heart beat at the recollections called up. He 
 could see little Bessie's sweet face near his and her 
 rosy lips uttering some endearing remark which he 
 did not then understand, while her soft young arms 
 were clasped about his neck thus he had held her in 
 his arms when he kissed her good-bye on the wharf at 
 Hoboken more than a year ago. It seemed a long 
 
 107
 
 PLUCK 
 
 time, but the recollection of it was so fresh it often 
 made him cry from sheer homesickness and longing. 
 
 He was saving all that he could, because Christmas 
 he wanted to send his parents some more money, when 
 he got a letter from his father requesting him to keep 
 his little earnings for future needs, as they had now 
 no difficulty to live, and even the sum Mr. Gross had 
 sent them was over half intact. He therefore gave 
 his savings to granma O'Donnell to keep for him. 
 
 Thus nearly three years passed with little change 
 in Phillip's circumstances, except that he gained 
 daily in experience and knowledge of life and men. 
 He stuck to his school, and Jack and some of the oth- 
 ers also. Only once did he have any trouble with his 
 chum. It was on a Fourth of July. There was an 
 excursion and picnic up the Hudson. 
 
 Thousands availed themselves of the opportunity 
 of enjoying the fresh air of the country. Landings 
 were made at different placed devoted to amusement. 
 Phillip and Jack were with a party that landed about 
 fourteen miles north of the present site of Sacred 
 Heart Convent; and when they reached the picnic 
 grounds, Jack was overjoyed to find Fanny Manners 
 there in the company of Miss Yale, the professor's 
 sister. 
 
 He was head over heels in love with Fanny, or 
 thought he was, which made it just as important to 
 him; and he at once went up to Miss Yale and Fan- 
 ny, followed by Phillip, and greeted them, while 
 making his handsomest bow. 
 
 Miss Yale was very friendly to the boys ; she knew 
 them well and her brother had often sounded their 
 
 108
 
 THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHUMS 
 
 praises to her. Fanny was a dear little girl whose 
 parents had hard work to support their large progeny, 
 and Miss Yale had proposed to take her out for a pic- 
 nis, a proposition which her parents accepted hardly 
 less gladly than Fanny. The only other girl pupil 
 of her brother, Nellie Bronson, had gone with her 
 parents on a visit to some relatives in the country. 
 
 Phillip wanted to have some fun and take part in 
 games with the other boys, but Jack was filled with 
 no such desires. He could not bear the thought of 
 leaving his sweetheart, possibly to some other, and 
 hung about her constantly. The other did not want 
 to desert his chum, so to Jack's very serious annoy- 
 ance he remained and gave close company. 
 
 Finally Fanny sent Jack off on an errand and, dur- 
 ing his absence, asked Miss Yale for permission to 
 wander about the grounds for a few minutes with 
 Phillip. Miss Yale, deeply engaged in reading a 
 very interesting novel, gave her consent, and Fanny 
 and Phillip started off. Fanny said she sent that dis- 
 agreeable freckled fellow away purposely as she de- 
 tested him, and she wanted to be for a few minutes 
 with some one she liked. "Oh, he's such a bore; I 
 can't look up without his looking at me as though he 
 wanted oh, I can't tell how ; I wish he'd pay atten- 
 tion to Nellie and that little minx is all the time 
 teasing me when she knows I can't bear him !" and 
 she showed all her disgust and impatience in voice 
 and face. 
 
 Phillip felt sorry for Jack, and he told her he was 
 an awful good boy. 
 
 109
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Well, I don't care, I just hate him ! and I wish 
 I'd never see his face again !" she exclaimed almost 
 angrily. 
 
 Just then she saw Jack returning with a flushed 
 face and angry look ; and when she did she put on a 
 look of the greatest sweetness and affection she was 
 capable of and bent toward Phillip and looked up in 
 his face with the appearance of confidence and inti- 
 macy. 
 
 Jack could not help seeing it, and the little vixen 
 did it purposely for him to see. His face grew darker 
 still, and without addressing them he turned on his 
 heel and walked away. 
 
 Phillip soon took Fanny back to Miss Yale and 
 left her there. She was satisfied ; she had gained her 
 main purpose, that is, had gotten rid of Jack. 
 
 Jack was nowhere to be found. Phillip looked 
 through the crowd again and again ; finally he strolled 
 farther into the woods and found his friend sitting 
 on a stone near a little brook. When he saw Phillip 
 he jumped up, his face red and his fists clenched. 
 
 "You are a sneak, a puppy you are no friend of 
 mine," he burst forth, and strong passion controlled 
 him. "Pretend to be my friend and try to steal my 
 girl behind my back, you coward," and he fairly 
 hissed the last words between his teeth. "Come, now, 
 we'll have it out; if you are the best man you can 
 have her, if I am, then I'll break every bone in your 
 body if you come near her again." 
 
 Phillip was startled at first; but he soon guessed 
 the cause of his friend's passion Jack was insanely 
 jealous ; and while he grew pale at the insulting words 
 
 110
 
 THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHUMS 
 
 hurled at him he kept his temper and endeavored to 
 explain. 
 
 But Jack would hear no explanation, called him a 
 coward, and threatened that if he would not fight like 
 a man he would whip him anyway. When Phillip 
 saw that he would not listen to reason, he threw off 
 his coat and faced his infuriated friend with a pale 
 face and compressed lips. 
 
 Jack rushed at him like a mad bull, throwing his 
 scientific acquirements to the wind, and had his chum 
 then been so inclined he might have easily planted a 
 few blows that would have brought about a speedy end 
 of the encounter; but he did not want to hurt Jack 
 but only to defend himself, and therefore slowly gave 
 way sufficient to make good his guard. 
 
 The asault was, however, so terrific that in spite of 
 his utmost skill he could not help receiving a number 
 of severe blows. Finally he saw that he must strike 
 back, or be quickly done up. In turn he therefore 
 began to give as well as take ; and this sufficiently 
 brought the other to his senses to realize that blind 
 rage would not avail against Phillip, and that he 
 needed all the "science" he had mastered. He was 
 angry through and through, and the occasional hard 
 thumps which he received did not improve his tem- 
 per. It was by no means his first "to a finish" fight ; 
 and many friendly contests with Phillip had shown 
 him that the latter would be no mean opponent when 
 forced to act. 
 
 Phillip saw the change in the other's tactics and 
 read an ugly determination to conquer, in his face. 
 He only clinched his teeth the harder, and seemed to 
 
 111
 
 PLUCK 
 
 groAv more cool, as though supported by an inward 
 confidence in himself. In after years he often said 
 that the experience of those few moments, when there 
 came upon him the conviction that he could win if he 
 would, was one of the most valuable of his life. 
 Though in boyish struggle with his bosom friend, that 
 moment made him almost a man ; he knew he could 
 win if he kept cool and used his skill, and that con- 
 viction prompted his actions. 
 
 ISTot a word had been uttered by either since the 
 battle began. Each was now saving his breath. Jack 
 in his turn read the look of confidence in the eye of 
 the other, and it did not tend to cool his own desire 
 to win. He pressed on to finish his opponent. But 
 Phillip had been an apt scholar, and while now and 
 then a blow landed, most of them fell short "struck 
 wind." Finally Jack made a desperate rush, think- 
 ing to take advantage of an "opening" several times 
 given; but he made a mistake. It had been but a 
 feint, and before he could recover to guard, Phillip's 
 right landed with such terrific force on his left jaw 
 that he staggered back and fell to the ground. 
 
 No sooner did Phillip see him fall than remorse 
 overcame him. What had he done ! Struck down his 
 best friend! The friend who had stood by him 
 through his early bitter experiences in the city! 
 Quickly he knelt down beside him and begged for- 
 giveness. 
 
 "Get me some water quick," gasped Jack, "I feel 
 faint." 
 
 Phillip rushed to the creek and brought his hat 
 full of water, from which Jack drank greedily. Then 
 
 112
 
 THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHUMS 
 he bathed the latter's face and head while he lav on 
 
 */ 
 
 his back with his eyes closed. 
 
 Finally Jack looked up, and seeing the expression 
 of remorse on his comrade's face, raised himself on 
 his elbow and said: 
 
 "Oh, you needn't feel bad about it. It was a fair 
 fight and you bested me. You can have the girl and 
 I'll give you all the show you want." 
 
 "But, Jack, I don't want her," answered Phillip, 
 almost in tears. "You can have her, I don't care for 
 her at all." 
 
 "Is that so ! then why didn't you say so before ?" 
 Jack cried, jumping to his feet in a moment. 
 
 "You gave me no chance to explain," Phillip re- 
 plied, and then he told him that Fanny had said she 
 wanted to get away from him because he hung around 
 her all the time, and Nellie teased her so, and 
 
 "Then she don't care for me, darn her," Jack inter- 
 rupted angrily, "and I'll never look at her again." 
 
 He looked at Phillip and saw the bruises in his 
 face, felt of his own and knew that his eyes were 
 growing smaller by reason of the rising swelling, and 
 suddenly burst out laughing with delight. 
 
 "Oh, but wasn't it a beautiful fight, Phil! You 
 should have seen yourself. I admired your coolness 
 so, it made me only the more angry at my own loss 
 of temper; and I really believe I had forgotten all 
 about what we were fighting for before we were half 
 through. I only thought of besting you ; but I know 
 now I never can do it. You take the blows like love 
 pats till you get the other fellow winded, when you 
 bring in your work." 
 
 113
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Phillip was happy to see his old friend himself 
 again; and both sat down at the brook and bathed 
 their faces to keep down the swelling as much as pos- 
 sible. This was their first and only unpleasantness, 
 and on Jack's side, at least, the recollection of it was 
 not unalloyed with pleasure he did so love a fight ! 
 
 From that time on, and until many years later, 
 Jack, however, steered shy of girls, and Fanny cer- 
 tainly had no further cause to complain of his atten- 
 tions. 
 
 114
 
 w 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK. 
 
 HEN" the boys got home that night Sammy 
 was waiting for them. "Wouldn't one of 
 them come and help him with his mother 
 to-night; she was sick and he had been up 
 two nights with her and feared he could not keep 
 awake another." 
 
 Both were ready at once, but granma said only one 
 should go that night and the other the next. So Jack 
 went with Sammy. The poor little fellow looked thin 
 and sick himself. He peddled his papers about the 
 streets all day, covering miles and miles, only to have 
 his drunken father take away his earnings when he 
 got home late in the evening, all tired out. Of late 
 his mother's condition had grown worse. The doctor 
 whom Sammy had begged to come only shook his 
 head; she had no distinct malady; her vitality was 
 simply succumbing to the strain of years of hardship 
 and suffering. Sammy's father now often stayed 
 away several days at a time. This was a relief 
 while he was gone, but generally he was only the more 
 brutal on his return when he found less money await- 
 ing him than he expected. 
 
 The boys took turns for a week in watching nights 
 with the sick woman; while in day time she had to 
 
 115
 
 PLUCK 
 
 remain alone, except when a kind-hearted neighbor 
 called in to supply her simple wants. At the end of 
 a week she had sufficiently recovered to relieve our 
 friends of further trouble for a time. 
 
 Jack had quit school, and no argument of Phillip's 
 could induce him to go back where his erstwhile flame 
 still attended. He now had a new ambition. Prize- 
 fighting was all right for some, those with little brains 
 and a thick skull and strong jaws ; but he had learned 
 to read and write, could cipher quite rapidly, had 
 read the history of the United States, and of late 
 some very exciting novels he was fit for something 
 higher. He would be a detective. He applied at the 
 different detective bureaus, but they only laughed at 
 him. His persistency, however, was so lasting, that 
 in desperation and to get rid of him Chief Norton 
 one day said : "Look here, boy, if you can find out 
 who stole this lady's purse I'll give you a job," and 
 he proceeded to give the details of the case as far as 
 known to the department. It was a common case of 
 pocket-picking in one of the crowded mercantile estab- 
 lishments of the city, and, owing to the lack of all 
 clew, one of the hardest to discover. The loss was 
 small and the lady was not even certain whether she 
 had not after all lost the purse or left it lying on the 
 counter. 
 
 Jack listened eagerly. He knew the territory 
 where the supposed theft had occurred and pretty 
 nearly all the crooks, old and young, who frequented 
 the locality. His future, as he viewed it, depended 
 on his success. He hunted up Jem Mace, who did a 
 little work in the line of "picking" himself now and 
 
 116
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 then, and, although Jack did not like him, he thought 
 that perhaps he could make use of him for once. 
 
 "Jem," he said, when he had taken him aside, "I'll 
 make it worth your while if you find out for me who 
 hooked a certain lady's pocketbook last Thursday aft- 
 ernoon over in Hooper's store." He went on to de- 
 scribe the lady and the purse from the information 
 given him by the chief. 
 
 "What'll ye give?" said Jem, after he had heard 
 sufficient. 
 
 "I'll give you ten dollars," Jack answered. 
 
 "Hookey!" Jem exclaimed, "that's more'n there 
 was in it. There was only four dollars and some 
 cents in it. What you want to know for ?" 
 
 "Oh, that makes no difference, so's I find out," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you, 'cause they won't give a fellow 
 more than ten days fur that. Where's yer money ?" 
 
 "Right here," Jack answered, showing two five 
 dollar bills. "But I want proof. When you show 
 me where the pocketbook can be found safe I'll give 
 you five and when we have the thief in limbo I'll give 
 you tLa other five. You know me, Jem, an' what I 
 say I'll do." 
 
 "Nuff said, Jack, here's the thing, gimme the fiver," 
 was Jem's ready response. 
 
 "What, did you take it ?" queried Jack, in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Sure thing, an' 'twas dead easy. Gimme the 
 fiver." 
 
 Jack did so and received the purse in return. He 
 started back in high glee to report to the chief. Jem 
 
 117
 
 PLUCK 
 
 was hauled in and confessed; his sentence, however, 
 was somewhat of a surprise to him, as he got thirty 
 days instead of the anticipated ten, while Jack got 
 his place on the force as a regular employee, though 
 at very small wages. He managed to slip Jem the 
 last of the two five-dollar bills and went home happy. 
 Phillip, too, made a change. One day he was 
 offered a job as clerk in a grocery store, at a salary 
 which looked large to him until he found out his 
 duties; then it looked small enough. He had re- 
 served two hours in the evening for study when he 
 hired out for a six months' term; but found he was 
 expected to make them up by work earlier in the 
 morning. At five o'clock he was obliged to be at 
 hand to sweep the store and help arrange the goods ; 
 after that, and until seven at night, it was a constant 
 rush, with but half an hour for each meal doing up 
 packages, delivering, waiting on customers, unpack- 
 ing goods and the like, until his back ached. But he 
 stuck it out; and when spring came again he was 
 richer in knowledge of humankind, and in dollars. 
 His employer was kind, but strict and sharp as a 
 whip. He insisted on promptness and absolute obe- 
 dience. He wanted the services of the brain of his 
 employees as well as their hands and muscles, and 
 when he saw Phillip's readiness and application to 
 duty, he relieved him of many worse jobs to detail 
 him for waiting on customers. Nor did he lose by 
 it. Phillip's ever pleasant face, cheerful smile and 
 quick perception of his customers' wishes soon made 
 him a favorite. 
 
 118
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 At the end of the six months his employer offered 
 to re-engage him for a year at an advance in salary, 
 and Phillip was debating in his mind whether or not 
 to accept, when an incident happened that changed 
 all his present plans, and probably his future career. 
 
 He was now nearly fifteen years of age and had 
 been in New York City almost four years. While 
 the noteworthy incidents of his experience there had 
 been few, he had learned a vast number of things. 
 He could speak the English language readily and 
 possessed a fair general education. He had come in 
 contact with thousands of people and observed their 
 manners and to some extent their character. Preju- 
 diced against Americans by his experience imme- 
 diately upon his arrival in their country, he had, 
 nevertheless, learned to respect them most of all. Al- 
 though he could not understand how a people so gen- 
 erous and charitable could allow the poor at their 
 own door to suffer hunger and cold, it thrilled him 
 with admiration to see their quick and lavish re- 
 sponse to the call of distress, which a flood, or famine, 
 or disaster of any kind had caused in this country or 
 elsewhere. He admired their energy, shrewdness and 
 enterprise; and since he had learned some of the 
 history of this country, that record of past heroic 
 deeds, he had unbounded faith in America and its 
 future. He knew well the haunts and habits of the 
 lowly, but he had also seen much of the life of the 
 great or wealthy ; he had been on the stock exchange, 
 had even gambled once in a poolroom to his sorrow ; 
 had watched with keen interest the active life of the 
 great banking institutions, the custom house, the 
 
 119
 
 PLUCK 
 
 shipping ; and many of the massive commercial estab- 
 lishments were no strangers to him. As a newsboy 
 for over three years he had ready access everywhere, 
 and his quick observation stored much valuable in- 
 formation in his memory. Once he had even wit- 
 nessed an execution through the favor of a deputy 
 sheriff; and when he saw the awful distortion of the 
 features of the victim in his death-struggle, and real- 
 ized that the life that God had placed in this body 
 was thus forcibly expelled in punishment for crime, it 
 made an impression that could never fade ; nor did he 
 ever feel desire to attend at another such occasion. 
 
 His judgment was ripening early and his physical 
 development kept pace. At fifteen he was the pic- 
 ture of a healthy, symmetrical youth, with a face like 
 the index of a good heart. 
 
 He had not been an entire stranger to all the vices 
 of youth. Early he learned to smoke, and could 
 drink his beer with a relish ; but economy rarely per- 
 mitted him to indulge, and his early training, com- 
 bined with an inward restraint of his nature, had 
 steered him clear from many other temptations. True, 
 he drifted somewhat from the good precepts of his 
 childhood; he rarely went to Sunday service and he 
 sometimes forgot his evening prayers; but is it to 
 be wondered at when we consider the surroundings 
 into which he had fallen and the society in which his 
 lot was cast? Some day his early teachings would 
 come back again with renewed strength and influence ; 
 the day would come when he would fall on his knees 
 in grateful prayer to the God that had guided and 
 watched over him through a stormy life of danger 
 
 120
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 for the seed sown in the human heart by the mother's 
 hand retains its life principle to the grave, and often 
 germinates only after the winter frosts of life have 
 passed, and the threshold of eternity confronts the 
 weary wanderer, and at all times, though apparently 
 lifeless, it sends a fragrance forth to beautify the 
 world and influence men's actions. 
 
 The praise of God remained in Phillip's heart, 
 though he rarely heard His holy word, and the prin- 
 ciples of honor remained which his father had taught 
 him. Honesty, industry and economy were elemental 
 in his nature, and he could not see departure from 
 either in others without experiencing a shock. 
 
 He had saved enough now to pay back Mr. Gross 
 the hundred dollars and had recently sent his par- 
 ents fifty dollars more. At the same time he had 
 paid his schooling and kept himself neatly dressed. 
 
 This, briefly, was his situation on the Sunday, the 
 day before his six months' time expired with the 
 grocer. 
 
 He spent most of the forenoon wandering about 
 Central Park, his favorite Sunday resort, and was 
 proceeding down Fifth Avenue toward the new Art 
 Museum, which had just been thrown open to the 
 public, when he met Sammy Dornbush walking alone 
 and looking pale and sad. He accosted him with : 
 
 "Hello, Sam, where're you going?" Then notic- 
 ing his mournful look, added, "What, got the blues ?" 
 
 "Yes, Phil," Sammy replied, "mamma is very 
 sick. Mrs. Walther, our kind neighbor, is with her 
 now and she made me go out to get some fresh air. 
 The air is so close at home," and he sighed and looked 
 
 121
 
 PLUCK 
 
 so wearied that Phillip passed his arm for a moment 
 around his friend with the impulse to support him. 
 
 "I will help you to-night, so that you can get some 
 rest," he said, sympathetically. "Come sit down and 
 tell me when this last attack began," and Phillip led 
 the way to the edge of a green lawn adjoining the 
 walk, where they sat down on the grass, in the shade 
 of a tree. 
 
 Sammy related how his mother had taken to her 
 bed again three days ago, and that the doctor whom he 
 called in said she needed strengthening food, but that 
 no medicine could help her. His father was serving 
 a ten days' term in jail for participating in a drunken 
 riot, and he, himself, could not leave his mother's 
 bedside to go to earn sonie money. 
 
 Phillip offered to help him and gave him most of 
 the little change he had with him. He could not do 
 much more, however, than keep them from positive 
 want, while he realized that good nursing alone might 
 here be able to help. But he had not the means to 
 provide a nurse, and a deep pity filled his heart. 
 
 "To think," Sammy finally burst forth bitterly, 
 "that there are thousands of people in this city who 
 have so much more wealth than they know what to 
 do with, while my poor mother is starving. That 
 lady," pointing to one in a stylish turnout fondling 
 a pet dog, while the liveried coachman guided a pair 
 of handsome steeds between the crowding carriages, 
 "surely lavishes more on that cur than would keep 
 my poor mother from suffering. Oh, I wish I could 
 make them give up some of their wealth to help the 
 poor!" 
 
 122
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 Phillip did not contradict him. At that moment 
 he felt with Sammy that there was some injustice 
 somewhere ; but he knew no remedy. He was, there- 
 fore, silent for a few minutes, thinking of how he 
 could cheer his friend. 
 
 Finally he said, ''Well, if you have rested let's go 
 down to a restaurant and get something to eat, it is 
 nearly one o'clock ; I'll pay the bill." 
 
 Sammy had not eaten much that day and readily 
 accepted the offer. They proceeded to the nearest 
 cheap restaurant and had their dinners. After dinner 
 Phillip proposed that they visit the new museum, 
 which was open until four o'clock, and then it would 
 be time for Sammy to return home. 
 
 They had been walking about in the spacious apart- 
 ments, viewing the beautiful paintings and marble 
 statuary for some time, when Sammy laid his hand 
 on Philip's arm, and whispered to him to observe the 
 handsomely dressed lady standing a short distance 
 from them. 
 
 Phillip looked in the direction indicated, but saw 
 nothing unusual in the lady's appearance. 
 
 "See, see, it's falling," the lad whispered excitedly ; 
 "that will save mother," and before Phillip could 
 realize it Sammy darted away from him to where the 
 lady had stood a moment before, stooped to the floor 
 to pick up something, and started for the door. 
 
 Phillip just caught the flash of a glittering object 
 lying on the floor before Sammy's hand closed on it, 
 and he rushed after his friend and caught him just as 
 he was about to descend the outer steps leading to the 
 
 123
 
 PLUCK 
 
 sidewalk. He seized him my the arm to stop him and 
 said: 
 
 "Sammy, what have you done; this is stealing 
 let me have it and I'll return it" ; and he took the 
 object from the culprit's hand. 
 
 "Oh, I could not help it I only thought of mother 
 the lady could spare it and it would have helped 
 mother so much," Sammy answered, while a deep 
 flush of shame suffused his usually pale face. 
 
 Phillip stood looking, for a moment, at the glitter- 
 ing diamond brooch he held in his hand; it must 
 have cost a great sum of money. Presently he heard 
 a commotion inside, and the cry of "Stop the thief" 
 reached him. 
 
 "Quick, Sammy, run! Don't let them catch you, 
 you must get home !" he urged. 
 
 The latter needed no further urging than the 
 thoughts the word "home" suggested he was needed 
 there. He sped down the steps and dashed along the 
 street to the nearest corner, where he turned and was 
 lost to sight. 
 
 His friend, still holding the brooch in his right 
 hand, was standing at the top of the steps near the 
 door and looking in the direction in which Sammy had 
 fled, when the door burst open and a guard rushed 
 out. Instantly he found himself seized and forced 
 back into the gallery. 
 
 "Here is the thief," the guard exclaimed ; "I saw 
 him run to the door; and here are the diamonds !" he 
 added, as he unclasped Phillip's hand and took the 
 brooch. 
 
 The lady took her ornament, at the same time 
 
 124
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 measuring the young man with a look of intense dis- 
 dain. Her face seemed familiar, and in a moment 
 he recalled that he had seen her several times, while 
 she was waiting in her carriage for her servant to 
 make some trifling purchase at his employer's store. 
 She, too, recognized him, but, as it turned out later, 
 to his sorrow. 
 
 A policeman was promptly called and the guard in- 
 formed him of the affair. None knew whether the 
 brooch had fallen and been picked up by the thief or 
 had been taken direct from the person of the lady. 
 
 Phillip did not at first intend to explain, but when 
 he felt certain that Sammy had made good his escape, 
 he endeavored to convince the policeman and guard 
 of the true facts without mentioning his friend's 
 name, as he had no desire to spend a term in prison. 
 
 His captors, however, gave no credence to his words. 
 He had been practically caught in the act, and his 
 story was an invention. . He was ordered to come 
 along peaceably or he would be taken by force. 
 
 Phillip now realized that he was in desperate 
 straits, and for a moment almost regretted his inter- 
 ference. Conviction meant disgrace, loss of position, 
 and sorrow to his friends, to say nothing of the forced 
 companionship of felons for many months. 
 
 Unconsciously his hand touched his pocketbook, and 
 with it came the recollection of a little treasure he 
 had kept and constantly carried as a souvenir of his 
 first adventure in America. It was the card the 
 Superintendent of Police had given him four years 
 ago when acting under an impulse of kindness. 
 
 "Wait a moment," he said, and reached in his 
 
 125
 
 PLUCK 
 
 pocket. He found the card, carefully wrapped in pa- 
 per, in a separate compartment of his pocketbook. It 
 was somewhat bent, but little soiled, and plainly still 
 could be read the words : 
 
 "Police officers will promptly communicate to me 
 any request made by the bearer hereof 
 
 (Signed.) John Parker, Sup't of Police." 
 
 Phillip handed it to the policeman, who slowly read 
 it while his prisoner demanded, "I request that you 
 take me straight to the Superintendent." 
 
 The policeman looked at Phillip, then again at the 
 card. Finally he called the guard back and showed 
 it to him. 
 
 "He probably stole that, too," was the latter's opin- 
 ion. 
 
 "If I did would I request to be taken before the 
 Superintendent to expose the theft ?" was the prompt 
 rejoinder. 
 
 That argument was unanswerable. Parker had the 
 reputation of enforcing strict obedience to his orders ; 
 and if the order was genuine it might mean dismissal 
 to refuse compliance, and the fact that the prisoner 
 requested to be taken into the very presence of the 
 Superintendent indicated that such was the case. 
 
 With far more courtesy, therefore, the policeman 
 declared his willingness to conduct our young friend 
 to the chief, and the two were soon on their way to 
 headquarters. 
 
 Before they arrived there the policeman said that it 
 was unlikely that the Superintendent would be at his 
 office, this being Sunday afternoon, and suggested 
 that they proceed direct to his residence if Phillip felt 
 
 126
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 certain of the nature of his reception ; otherwise they 
 had better wait until next morning, as the Superin- 
 tendent did not like to be annoyed with business at 
 his home. 
 
 The answer was a prompt request to be taken to 
 the Superintendent's residence the prisoner would 
 take the consequences upon himself. 
 
 When they arrived there they found that the Super- 
 intendent had just returned from a drive and retired 
 to the library. 
 
 The policeman left Phillip in charge of the foot- 
 man in the hallway and proceeded to deliver the card 
 and communicate the request. 
 
 He returned after an absence of a few minutes and 
 directed the young man to accompany him to the 
 library. 
 
 When they entered the Superintendent sat at his 
 desk scrutinizing the card and evidently endeavoring 
 to recall when and to whom he had given it. It was 
 his handwriting and his signature but he could not 
 remember anything connected with it. 
 
 He turned after a moment and looked sharply at 
 Phillip standing near the door ; finally he spoke : 
 
 "Come forward ; where did you get this card ?" 
 
 "You gave it to me four years ago, sir," was the 
 respectful answer. 
 
 "What is your name ?" 
 
 "Phillip Bertram." 
 
 The Superintendent looked at him steadily for a 
 moment, trying to recall the face, then brightening, 
 exclaimed : "Why, sir, I think I remember you now. 
 Are you not the little 'Dutchman' who was lost and 
 
 127
 
 PLUCK 
 
 whom a gentleman from Philadelphia let me see, 
 what was his name Gross, yes, Peter Gross, got us 
 to search for ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir,'"' Philip answered, "and yon gave me 
 that card the day I called at your office." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember now. Sit down. The po- 
 liceman has just informed me that you are under ar- 
 rest on a most serious charge and the circumstances 
 look black against you. I am willing to hear your 
 explanation, for I should be sorry to learn you had 
 gone wrong." 
 
 Phillip proceeded to truthfully relate all that had 
 taken place at the museum, without, however, men- 
 tioning Sammy's name. And he did more, he told the 
 motive thui prompted the act and the home circum- 
 stances of his friend which gave birth to the motive. 
 "Do not punish my friend," he pleaded, "his mother 
 has no one else to support her or wait on her in her 
 sickness. I never knew him to be dishonest before, 
 and I don't think he will be again. He acted under 
 the impulse of the moment and to help his mother ; 
 and, sir," he added, almost defiantly, "I would steal 
 myself to keep my mother from starving !" 
 
 The Superintendent made no reply for a moment ; 
 a fellow feeling for human suffering may have caused 
 him to think that perhaps the young man's sentiments 
 were not so wholly wrong. Finally he began to ques- 
 tion Phillip minutely as to his doings during the last 
 four years, and was soon in possession of the young 
 man's little history and a pretty good knowledge of 
 his friends. He had no need to ask the friend's name 
 who took the brooch he sufficiently recognized him 
 
 128
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 as Sammy Dornbush ; but he did not intend to make 
 use of this knowledge. 
 
 When he had concluded the examination he ex- 
 tended his hand, and at the same time returned the 
 card, saying: 
 
 "Keep this, my young friend, and never hesitate 
 to use it when you need my help. I am glad that I 
 can still retain my good opinion of you." 
 
 Then, turning to the policeman, he said: "This 
 young man is released, and you will drop the inquiry 
 into the affair." 
 
 Phillip thanked him warmly and turned to go, 
 when the Superintendent again spoke : 
 
 "By the way, your coming here reminds me that 
 the money for your trip to Philadelphia is still on 
 deposit. I might as well put it in your charge now, 
 I know you won't squander it." He looked for a few 
 moments among the papers in his desk and pulled 
 out a certificate of deposit, and endorsing it over to 
 Phillip, handed it to him. 
 
 "Do you ever hear from Mr. Gross ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir, once in a great Avhile. He is well and 
 intends to retire from business." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad to hear good of him ; a very fine 
 old gentleman." 
 
 He shook hands with Phillip again when he left 
 and reminded him of the card. But the latter never 
 had occasion to make use of it after that, although to 
 his last day it rested among the little treasures in his 
 home which derived their chief value from the mem- 
 ories with Avhich they were associated. 
 
 129
 
 PLUCK 
 
 When our young friend reached Gramna O'Don- 
 nell's it was supper time. Jack had just returned 
 and was delighting the old lady with the recital of his 
 week's adventures many of them imaginary in 
 helping to trace down criminals. Mrs. O'Donnell had 
 grown stout and slow of motion during the last few 
 years. She had ceased to threaten Jack with his 
 bringing her to the grave; in fact, she was growing 
 immensely proud of her ambitious grandson. She 
 approved generally of all he did and nothing gave her 
 more pleasure than to hear him relate his imaginary 
 blood-curdling adventures. 
 
 While eating supper Phillip told them of Mrs. 
 Dornbush's severe illness and of his intention of sit- 
 ting up with her that night; but he said nothing of 
 the afternoon's adventure. Jack said he would walk 
 over with him and stay a little while for company. 
 
 They met the doctor coming out of the house and 
 asked him about his patient's condition. 
 
 "I do not think she will live through the night. She 
 is sinking fast ; and she will be better off when she's 
 gone," was his quiet reply. 
 
 The boys were shocked, because they had not 
 thought the situation so grave. They entered and 
 found Sammy alone with his mother. He was kneel- 
 ing at her bedside and weeping bitterly. Mrs. Dorn- 
 bush seemed asleep or unconscious. 
 
 When Sammy saw the boys he arose and beckoned 
 them to rude chairs. Then he told them in a whis- 
 per what they already knew from the doctor. The 
 little fellow bore up bravely, but some hidden grief 
 seemed to weigh him down. 
 
 130
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 After a few minutes he motioned Phillip to come 
 outdoors with him, and when they were out and the 
 door closed, he besought his friend in a subdued and 
 imploring voice : 
 
 "Don't tell her, Phillip. It was my only crime, 
 and shall be my last. I did it for her, but you see it 
 would have been useless. You won't tell her, will 
 you ?" he pleaded eagerly. 
 
 "Never," Phillip answered; "nor will I tell any- 
 one else, and no one will ever know unless you tell 
 it yourself." 
 
 Sammy pressed his hand and silently they re-en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 Presently they heard the feeble voice of the sick 
 woman: "Sammy," and quickly he went to her side 
 and bent over her. 
 
 "Sammy, I'm going to leave you, my son. Don't 
 cry for me. I could not bear it longer here. Be good, 
 be honest, my boy, and God will take care of you. 
 Kiss me," and her voice grew fainter; "you have 
 been so good to me God bless you," she breathed, 
 as he bent over her to bestow a kiss upon her dying 
 lips. 
 
 The boys had risen and silently approached the 
 bedside. Once more the lids that had almost closed 
 opened she saw her son's two faithful friends 
 "You will not desert him ?" she whispered. 
 
 "No, no," came the subdued, but earnest answer 
 from both. 
 
 For a moment a sweet smile lit up her face, then 
 there was a flutter of the breath, a slight tremor of 
 
 131
 
 PLUCK 
 
 the body and the lids fell partly over the glassy eyes 
 the soul had fled. 
 
 Weeping the boys led Sammy to a chair. Jack 
 called Mrs. Walther, whose kind heart had lightened 
 many sorrowful hours for the deceased, and she un- 
 dertook to attend to the duties which she could best 
 perform. Jack persuaded Sammy to go home with 
 him, while Phillip remained to assist Mrs. Walther 
 during the night. 
 
 The funeral was held next day. In the crowded 
 districts of the poor, with no means of staying rapid 
 disintegration, health regulation made speedy burial 
 a necessity. The mourners were few, consisting of 
 our three young friends, Mrs. Walther and a few 
 neighbors ; but the tears that fell upon her grave were 
 born of grief more sincere and love more true than 
 many a petted child of wealth and fortune ever left 
 behind. 
 
 "Now, Sammy," Jack said on the way back from 
 the funeral, "you get your duds and come with us; 
 until you can find some other place we three can 
 manage in one bed, even if it is crowded. I don't sup- 
 pose you want to keep on supplying your father with 
 whisky money now?" 
 
 "No," said Sammy, whose ideas of filial duty did 
 not go so far as to make him believe that he must 
 continue to supply his father with the means to nour- 
 ish his vice; he had heretofore borne the cruelties 
 of this unnatural parent in silence for his mother's 
 sake, whom he loved, but now that she wos gone he 
 felt no tie binding him to his former home. He, 
 therefore, gladly accepted Jack's oifer. 
 
 132
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 The next morning, Tuesday, Phillip returned to 
 his work. He had about made up his mind to accept 
 his employer's offer, and also to ask for a place for 
 Sammy. Mr. Carson was in his. office, and looked 
 up in surprise when Phillip entered. 
 
 "Well, sir, what do you want ?" he asked sharply. 
 
 "I came to tell you that I have made up my mind 
 to accept your offer, and to ask you to give a young 
 friend of mine employment as delivery boy ; he is well 
 acquainted and not lazy," Phillip answered. 
 
 "I have no further use for you and your friends, 
 and must say that I am surprised to see you back so 
 soon," was Mr. Carson's cold answer. 
 
 Phillip looked at him in astonishment. For a mo- 
 ment he did not know what to make of it; then the 
 explanation dawned upon him: Some one must have 
 told Mr. Carson of his trouble on Sunday, the recol- 
 lection of which the sad event of the night and day 
 following had nearly driven from his mind, and his 
 thoughts reverted to the lady. 
 
 "I suppose you have been told that I was a thief 
 and expected me to be serving a term in prison now ?" 
 he said, with some bitterness. 
 
 "I confess such are the facts," was the short an- 
 swer. 
 
 "Does not my presence here indicate that I was in- 
 nocent of the charge ?" 
 
 "May it not also indicate that you succeeded in 
 escaping from the officer ?" 
 
 "If you will hear my explanation I can satisfy you 
 of the contrary," Phillip replied. 
 
 133
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Well, I am willing to believe the contrary with- 
 out explanation, because I have always found you 
 honest in my business, and because my judgment tells 
 me you could hardly be guilty of crime without strong 
 inducement. However, that does not alter the situa- 
 tion. I must either discharge you or lose the patron- 
 age of that lady and of a large number of her wealthy 
 friends." 
 
 Phillip thought for a moment of calling on the lady 
 and explaining it all to her; but his pride rebelled. 
 If she had already judged him unheard, he would not 
 humiliate himself to attempt a defense. 
 
 He, therefore, took the check which Mr. Carson 
 handed him in payment of the balance of wages due 
 him, and left the onice^ and store with the bitterness 
 of unmerited injury in his heart. 
 
 Slowly and without a thought of whither he was 
 going, he walked along the busy streets. He did not 
 know what to turn to next. He had no inclination to 
 go back to selling newspapers and blacking shoes ; he 
 was too big and strong a boy for that now ; he could 
 read and write and had a fair education in general ; 
 he must find employment of some other kind. 
 
 Thus, thinking over the situation, he had walked 
 for a long time when he became aware that he was 
 approaching his favorite haunt in Central Park, 
 whither his feet had mechanically carried him. He 
 sat down upon one of the benches, sad at heart and 
 gloomy of thought. 
 
 A squirrel came and jumped on his knee, expect- 
 ing the usual treat of a few nuts. Phillip felt in his 
 pockets, but found none ; he had not expected to come 
 
 134
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 here to-day. His little friend coaxed, smelled of 
 his hands, poked its head down the empty coat 
 pockets, and, finding nothing, started in search f 
 acorns or stray morsels dropped by visitors. Finally 
 it foimd something, and scampering up the nearest 
 tree, sat on a limb and began to eat. 
 
 Phillip watched it for some time; then his loJc 
 drifted to the tree ; there was a wealth of green foliage 
 catching the warm sunshine and gently swaying \n 
 the breeze; he looked about him all nature seemed 
 to have responded with gratitude to the welcome sun- 
 shine of spring and bedecked herself with richest 
 robe to meet the advancing summer. Other thoughts 
 took possession of our friend. Vividly the little vil- 
 lage in the midst of timber-mantled hills lay before 
 his vision. He saw again the little home across the 
 sea, the father and the mother standing in the door- 
 way, with love speaking from every look, the little 
 comrades of his boyhood clustering about him and 
 he felt a great longing come over him. Oh, what 
 would he not give if he could see them all again, if he 
 v-oi;M transport himself on the instant back to that 
 day of parting ! And would he, if he had it all to do 
 over again, would ho leave them as he had done be- 
 fore ? 
 
 He hesitated then the answer came: Yes, he 
 would ! Father and mother had not suffered want 
 since, because he had helped them; and what had 
 he to complain of had he suffered want or hunger ? 
 'No I On the contrary he had prospered had fallen 
 in with more kind people than unkind had been 
 happy oftener than unhappy. He had had troubles 
 
 135
 
 PLUCK 
 
 but they never overwhelmed him; and he thought 
 again of his father's words with which he himself 
 had overcome the latter's resistance to his departure : 
 "Gott verlaesst die Seinen nie !" 
 
 What though he had lost his situation! Had he 
 not started out when younger in years and exper- 
 ience, with the determination to make his way in 
 the world, and had he not many times since felt the 
 conviction that he could overcome all difficulties if he 
 but would ! Again he felt that self-confidence com- 
 ing over him which gave him the victory over Jack in 
 their fistic encounter at the Fourth of July picnic, 
 and he arose with the blood warming through his 
 veins. 
 
 As he stood there a new thought came to him. How 
 long had he not yearned for the green fields and 
 mighty forests of the west, which the Tribune had 
 so often pictured to its readers. Why not take the 
 advice of its noble editor and go west now. At some 
 time he had always intended to go. Independence and 
 fortune awaited the industrious, Mr. Greeley wrote, 
 and Phillip believed him. 
 
 His resolution was formed: He would visit Mr. 
 Gross first and then strike out for Ohio, or possibly 
 Michigan or Wisconsin. Sammy should go with him 
 until he could find steady employment. He mentally 
 calculated the amount of his funds and found he had 
 sufficient for his purposes, that is, to pay his own and 
 Sammy's fare to Philadelphia and for some distance 
 farther west. 
 
 With head erect and a new light in the eye he pro- 
 ceeded home. It was not quite noon and Jack and 
 
 136
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 Sammy had not yet returned. Grandma O'Donnell 
 was busy getting dinner, and was surprised at his 
 early appearance. 
 
 "Ah ! phat brings yez home so airly ; sure an' 
 phat appitite ye byes do have !" she said, assuming her 
 own explanation to be correct. 
 
 "Granma," Phillip said, "how much of my money 
 are you keeping for me now?" 
 
 She stopped and looked at him in great surprise. 
 
 "An' is it afraid ye be that Oi'll shquander it?" 
 she bristled up. "If yer afraid why don't ye kape 
 it yersilf or put it in a bank an' let the cashier shtale 
 it?" 
 
 "Why, granma, you mustn't get mad ; I know my 
 money is perfectly safe with you; but I need it all 
 now, because I'm going to leave the city, I'm going 
 out west." 
 
 The bowl of boiled potatoes the old lady was about 
 to place on the table came down with a thump, while 
 she threw up both hands and sank down in a chair. 
 
 "Goin' to lave the city goin' out wist !" she echoed, 
 and looked at Phillip as much astonished as though 
 he had been suddenly transformed into a mountain. 
 But she recovered quickly, and her apron came to 
 her face, while she swayed her fat body from side to 
 side, moaning out her grief. 
 
 "Ah, me bye to think yez would lave yer oukl 
 granma all alone in the worruld with no wan to sup- 
 port and comfort her, afther me bein' so koind to 
 yez, and tindin' yez loike me own baby ! Don't ye do 
 it, Phillip! Shtay with me, don't lave yer ould 
 
 137
 
 PLUCK 
 
 granma !" and the affection that showed in voice and 
 words made tears come to Phillip's eyes. 
 
 He threw his arms around her neck and kissed the 
 kind old soul while he said : 
 
 "But, granma, you won't be alone ; Jack will stay 
 and take care of you. And just think what a great 
 man he will be and what a great name he will have, 
 and how proud you'll be of him." 
 
 He touched the right key. She lowered her apron, 
 and, while the tears were yet wet on her cheeks, a 
 smile of pleasure spread o'er her face. 
 
 "Yis, faith, an' I had forgotten. It's a great man 
 Jack is, an' a good son. Only yisterday he tould me 
 how he caught a whole gang of bank robbers sur- 
 rounded thim all alone and made them surrinder." 
 
 Just then Jack came in, and, overhearing his grand- 
 mother's repetition of his last extravagant yarn, 
 flushed deeply. Those adventures were usually in- 
 tended for the old lady's ears alone, because she was 
 the only one to lend credence to them. He thought 
 best, however, to offer no explanation, because his 
 friends knew of this little failing of his. Sammy also 
 arrived just then, and Mrs. CXDonnell hastened to 
 place the remainder of the dinner on the table. 
 
 "Jack, old friend," Phillip spoke up, after they 
 were seated, "I have just told granma that I'm going 
 to leave you ; I'm going out west." 
 
 Jack was no less surprised than his grandmother 
 had been, but he did not indulge in useless lamenta- 
 tions. He was silent a moment, then extended his 
 hand across the table and grasped Phillip's. A tear 
 
 138
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 glistened in his eye, as he said, "I will stay with 
 granma." 
 
 He also had been touched by the "western fever," 
 but he knew that for the few years of her remaining 
 life his duty was to be at the side of his old grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Not so with Sammy, however ; his eyes sparkled the 
 moment he heard the announcement, and eagerly he 
 asked, "Take me along, Phillip, won't you ?" 
 
 "I will if you wish to go," was the ready response. 
 
 "Are you tired of clerking?" Jack asked after a 
 while. 
 
 "No, but I have been discharged." Then he told 
 them of his reception by Mr. Carson and the cause, 
 relating his whole experience of the previous Sunday, 
 without telling who the friend was whom he saved. 
 
 "Yes, and I was that boy," burst out Sammy ; "to 
 think that after all you have done for me I should 
 cause you to lose your job and drive you out of the 
 city." 
 
 Jack and Mrs. O'Donnell were astonished, and full 
 of sympathy; but our hero was cheerful and told 
 them he didn't care. 
 
 "Never mind, Sammy, it's all for the best. Who 
 knows what would have become of me if I had re- 
 mained here. Now I'm going out west and will make 
 my fortune." 
 
 His cheerfulness and confidence infected the oth- 
 ers, and soon they were discussing their trip and 
 plans for the future. Jack proposed a week's vaca- 
 tion to visit again all the old places of their youthful 
 adventures in the city ; but Phillip's impatience would 
 
 139
 
 PLUCK 
 
 admit of no delay. When his mind was made up he 
 had to act. He could be ready to start Thursday 
 morning, and start then he would. 
 
 That afternoon Phillip wrote a long letter to his 
 parents, telling them of the change in his plans and 
 requesting that they direct his letters in care of Mr. 
 Gross until they heard from him again. He also en- 
 closed a few short lines to his older brothers, to be 
 forwarded to them. To Eda he wrote more at length. 
 Contrary to expectation, Mr. Baldwin had been re- 
 appointed for another four-year term, and he would, 
 therefore, not return to America for several years to 
 come. He wrote his sister that he expected to visit 
 Detroit and would call on Mr. Baldwin's friends ; but 
 expected to go still farther west. 
 
 To Mr. Gross he would not write. He wanted to 
 surprise him, and was sure of a hearty welcome at 
 any time. 
 
 Jack came home in the evening and announced that 
 he had obtained leave of absence for the next day. 
 They would spend the day visiting old friends and 
 playmates. Sammy was all excitement with antici- 
 pation of his trip; coupled with this was the fear 
 that his father, whose term of imprisonment expired 
 that day, might find him out and put a stop to it. 
 He slept very little that night or the next ; every lit- 
 tle noise startled him, and he was in a constant fever 
 of anxiety lest his father might suddenly show up. 
 
 Wednesday was spent in visiting friends, as had 
 been planned. They called on many of their former 
 young comrades, some of whom they found at the old 
 haunts. The parting with Professor Yale and his 
 
 140
 
 WHY PHILLIP LEFT NEW YORK 
 
 sister was affecting; they never expected to see each 
 other again, and Phillip felt under a deep debt of 
 gratitude to his kind teacher. Fanny and Nellie, too, 
 his little schoolmates, he hunted .up, and they blush- 
 ingly accepted his farewell kiss. 
 
 Phillip proposed that they visit the Superintend- 
 ent of Police; although he had seen him but a few 
 days before, he thought he ought to say good-bye to 
 so great a man who had been so kind to him. Sammy 
 would not go along he had his doubts as to what 
 might be done to him if the Superintendent found out 
 he was the boy who took the diamonds; so that the 
 other two went alone. 
 
 They were promptly admitted, and, when the 
 Superintendent looked up and recognized our hero, 
 he smilingly exclaimed, "What ! In trouble again ?" 
 
 "No, sir," Phillip answered, "I thought I might 
 come and say good-bye to you ; I'm going to leave the 
 city to-morrow." 
 
 "Leave the city? But why so sudden, what has 
 happened ? Sit down." 
 
 Phillip flushed, but promptly answered without 
 changing his position, "I have lost my job. My em- 
 ployer discharged me because because of what hap- 
 pened Sunday." 
 
 "Because of what happened Sunday? Didn't I 
 release you because you were not the thief? Why 
 should he discharge you ?" said the chief, irritated and 
 in great surprise ; then, seeing Phillip still standing, 
 added : 
 
 141
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Sit down and tell me briefly all that has happened 
 since Sunday to cause you to change your plans so 
 suddenly." 
 
 Phillip complied with the request. When he had 
 concluded the Superintendent said, thoughtfully, 
 "Well, you may be right, although you would have 
 come to the front in this city as well." 
 
 Then, turning to look at Jack, he added, "Is this 
 your friend Mack,' who is now in the employ of Mr. 
 Morton ?" and on receiving an affirmative answer, he 
 said to the latter : 
 
 "I may have occasion to use you soon in a matter 
 that may affect your young friend's former acquaint- 
 ances, Pfeffer and Krumm, although under different 
 names. Tell Mr. Morton when I send for you to 
 release you at once from any work you may be en- 
 gaged in and send you to me." 
 
 "Well, my young friend," again turning to the 
 other, "I wish you good luck; always keep a stiff 
 upper lip, and you'll be all right. If you ever come 
 to New York again, hunt me up; I shall be glad to 
 see you." So saying, he shook hands with Phillip 
 and the boys departed. 
 
 When they had left the room the Superintendent 
 turned to his secretary and said: "Remarkable boy, 
 that young Bertram got the right mettle ; he'll make 
 his mark some day." 
 
 "A scion of good old stock," was the laconic reply.
 
 CHAPTER XI. I 
 
 PETER GROSS. 
 
 AKLY next morning Phillip and Sammy 
 bade farewell to their kind friends. The 
 former wept, while the good old lady held 
 him to her expansive breast; she had been 
 good and kind to him, had given him a home when 
 lost and shelterless in the great city, and cared for 
 him like a mother; and his heart overflowed with 
 gratitude. 
 
 "God bless ye, me bye! Ye'll niver see yer ould 
 granma agin ; and when Oi'm gone Jack will follow 
 ye, Oi know. His heart is with ye now, but I can't 
 let him lave me yit," and she hugged and kissed him 
 over and over again. 
 
 Finally, with a sad heart, he left her to weep alone. 
 She had learned to love him in her own fashion like 
 an own son, and it seemed terrible hard to say fare- 
 well forever. 
 
 Jack accompanied the other two as far as Jersey 
 Oity, where they bought their tickets, and, after a 
 long, warm clasp of the hands, the friends parted 
 and Phillip and Sammy entered the waiting train. 
 
 "I'll follow you some day, Phil," were Jack's last 
 words as they entered. 
 
 143
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "A 11 aboard !" the conductor shouted, and slowly 
 the train pulled out, carrying the erstwhile little 
 "greenhorn" away from the scenes and surroundings 
 that for four years had witnessed and contributed to 
 his growth, development and transformation. A lit- 
 tle boy, ignorant of the language of the country, 
 "green" and inexperienced, he had entered the city ; 
 a youth of fifteen, whose pronunciation of English 
 hardly gave a hint of his foreign birth, strong, healthy 
 and courageous, rich in observation and experience, 
 he left it a thousand times better equipped to take 
 up single-handed the battle of life. 
 
 The trip was one of unalloyed pleasure to Sammy. 
 He was brimming over with happiness; he had 
 eluded his father if the latter had, indeed, searched 
 for him, which was doubtful and was now on the 
 way to freedom. A new existence seemed to dawn 
 before him, and wherever he looked he found cause 
 for delight. 
 
 Phillip could not long resist contagion, and soon 
 forgot the sorrow of parting in the attraction of the 
 scenes of country life constantly displayed to his 
 view. Each stop that was made the boys rushed out 
 onto the depot platform and mingled for a few min- 
 utes with the villagers assembled to witness the train's 
 arrival und departure. The stops were not very fre- 
 quent, but often quite long, and the speed of the 
 train, when at its best, was far from making one 
 dizzy. They did not cross the Delaware until two 
 o'clock in the afternoon, and the ride southward along 
 the west bank took fully three hours longer. But it 
 was delightful ! For miles they could see the shining 
 
 144
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 waters far ahead and behind them glitter in the sun- 
 light and the scenery was at times wildly grand and 
 beautiful. 
 
 It was five o'clock when they arrived at Philadel- 
 phia and were once again in the midst of the noise 
 and bustle of a great city. But it was not like New 
 York ; it seemed to lack the rush and excitement and 
 nervous tension of the American metropolis. The 
 newsboys, even, did not seem to show the aggressive- 
 ness to which our two friends were accustomed. The 
 hack and 'bus drivers alone could be said to equal 
 those of New York in their shouting and importuni- 
 ties. 
 
 Our friends, with their carpet bags in their hands, 
 approached one of them and asked whether he* could 
 take them to No. 724 Twenty-First street. 
 
 "Yes, sir; yes, sir; get right in, gentlemen take 
 you right to the door," he assured them. 
 
 The boys got into the 'bus and were soon bowling 
 along at a good rate. After riding about half an 
 hour he halted in front of a large frame building of 
 somewhat disreputable appearance, and opened the 
 door for them to alight. 
 
 "What place is this?" asked Phillip, peering out 
 at the building and its surroundings. It did not look 
 like a wholesale wine merchant's establishment, nor 
 did the surrounding buildings seem to indicate that 
 this was a "wholesaling" district. 
 
 "It's all right, get right out ; they'll show you the 
 place when you get into the hotel," was the driver's 
 answer. 
 
 145
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Phillip was alert ; he read the driver's number and 
 saw from his looks that he was a scoundrel. 
 
 "No. 29, you will take us direct to 724 Twenty- 
 first street without an instant's delay," he said sharp- 
 ly ; "and see that you make no mistake !" 
 
 The driver looked at him for a moment, gave a 
 long drawn thoughtful whistle and jumped onto his 
 seat. 
 
 "All right, gentlemen," he called back; "I made 
 a mistake." 
 
 He evidently had that of taking them for "suck- 
 ers." 
 
 It was after six o'clock when he again stopped, 
 and, looking out, Phillip read the sign in large gilt 
 letters, "Peter Gross & Son. Wholesale Wines and 
 Liquors." He and his friend alighted, paid the 
 driver and started for the door, while the latter drove 
 away. 
 
 They found the door locked, but after several times 
 rapping a man, evidently the night watch, appeared 
 and asked what they wanted. 
 
 "We want to see Mr. Peter Gross," Phillip replied. 
 
 "Mr. Peter Gross has retired from business and 
 lives over in German town ; his son Adolph now runs 
 the business and he has gone home for the day." 
 
 "Can you give us his street and number ?" Phillip 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir ; if you will wait a minute." he answered, 
 and went back into the store. In a short time he re- 
 turned with the required address, and after having re- 
 ceived the necessary directions, our friends started 
 out. 
 
 146
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 "It will be dark before you get there if you walk 
 better hire a 'bus," he called after them. 
 
 Our young friends did not care to spend more 
 money than necessary, and, therefore, preferred to go 
 on foot. After an hour's brisk walking and much in- 
 quiring, they finally reached the correct address. 
 
 Phillip boldly took the lead and sounded the 
 knocker. A servant girl, evidently of German ex- 
 traction, answered the call and wished to know what 
 they wanted. 
 
 "We want to see Mr. Gross," Phillip replied. The 
 girl asked them to wait, closed the door and returned 
 into the house. 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Gross, who for many 
 years had been a "high liver," just at this time had a 
 most painful attack of the gout. In spite of the doc- 
 tor's strict orders, however, he could not deny his ap- 
 petite ; and his wife, who was almost as stout and as 
 a rule as good-natured as he, upheld him in it. 
 
 "Wat's de use of killing yourself by shtarving. You 
 always eat und drinked all you want for de last 
 dwenty years und it nefer hurt you. Dat ain't wat 
 ails you. I dink it's de rheumatiz !" she gave as her 
 decisive opinion ; and Peter was only too happy to 
 believe it. As a result his pain increased instead of 
 diminishing. 
 
 That evening he had just finished a hearty supper, 
 and, with it, a bottle of his fiery "Burgunder," and 
 was now lying back in his massive easy chair, smoking 
 a pipe and reading the evening paper, while his 
 heavily bandaged foot rested on a comfortable stool, 
 when the servant announced: 
 
 147
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Mr. Gross, dare are two poys at de door wat want 
 to seen you." 
 
 "Dell dem to go away. I won't see nobody to- 
 night," he said, angry at being disturbed. 
 
 The girl returned to our friends and told them 
 they could not see Mr. Gross that night; he was in- 
 disposed and they could call in the morning. 
 
 "But we must see him at once, if only for a few 
 minutes. Tell him we'll go right away then if he 
 wants us to," Phillip rejoined. 
 
 She re-entered and reported, "De poys won't go, 
 dey say dey must seen you to-night shure." 
 
 "Wat de dewil you say?" shouted the now thor- 
 oughly angry lord of the house, "dey won't go away 
 wen, I dell dem to go! Ho, fetch dem in here, I'll 
 make dem go double gwick !" and he thumped his cane 
 violently on the floor. 
 
 Phillip was already in the hallway, closely fol- 
 lowed by Sammy, as the old gentleman began to 
 speak the servant not having latched the door when 
 she closed it the second time and, just as old Peter 
 finished the last sentence, he pushed open the door 
 of the sitting room and appeared before his irate 
 friend, with Sammy at his heels. 
 
 The old gentleman stared as though he saw a ghost. 
 Suddenly he shouted : "Himmel alle Welt ! Phillip, 
 is dat you ? Ou ! ! Ou ! ! Au ! ! Au oo ! ! ! Oh, Lord !" 
 he groaned and gasped the next instant; "Oh, die 
 verdammte rheumatiz ! Ach, nch, how dat hurts !" 
 In his joy at seeing Philip he had jumped from his 
 chair, forgetting all about his inflamed foot. "Oh, 
 my. Oh, I'm so glad you come ! Oh, my, how dat 
 
 148
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 hurts/' and between his exclamations of mingled pain 
 and pleasure, Sammy was not at all sure that their 
 appearance had been welcome. 
 
 Phillip went up to his old friend, who seized his 
 extended hand and squeezed it with pleasure, empha- 
 sized no doubt by the agonizing twinges in his foot. 
 
 Then he shook hands with Mrs. Gross, whom he 
 had never met, but who was easy to recognize from 
 Mr. Gross' description of her. 
 
 "Sit down boys, sit down ; ma, dell Clara to bring 
 de boys someding to eat, dey must be hungry und 
 a bottle of wine, too ; dell her to bring it all right in 
 here on de little dable, so I can see dem wile dey eat." 
 
 "Und who is your young frient dere?" he con- 
 tinued; "looks like a nice boy; did you bring him 
 from New York wid you ?" 
 
 "Yes, uncle, that is Sammy Dornbush, about whom 
 I wrote you several times. His mother died last Sun- 
 day and he has come with me to seek his fortune," 
 Phillip replied. 
 
 "De boor boy, to lose his modder so young," and 
 the tears stood in his eyes at once. "Come here, my 
 boy, shake hands," and he extended his fat red hand 
 to Sammy. 
 
 "Go ofer to ma, und she will make you feel at 
 home ; she is a goot woman," he directed, and Sammy 
 went and was soon sitting on the lounge beside Mrs. 
 Gross, answering her kindly questions until supper 
 was served. 
 
 "Now, boys, sit down und eat," Mr. Gross urged 
 as soon as the table was set ; "but first we'll drink a 
 glass of wine to dis happy day; ma, fill de glasses. 
 
 149
 
 PLUCK 
 
 De doctor says I must not drink any wine on account 
 of my rheumatiz; but I dink a little, wonced in a 
 wile, don't make no differentz." 
 
 "Prosit, boys, und a long life and happiness to 
 you," he continued, as they touched glasses ; "if you 
 nefer drink more den I, it will nefer hurt you." 
 
 Our young friends did ample justice to the good 
 meal set before them, their long walk and the late- 
 ne.ss of the hour having given them a vigorous appe- 
 tite. 
 
 During the whole meal old Peter plied his young 
 friend with questions, and now and then, when the 
 latter showed some reluctance in relating a personal 
 experience, Sammy would be drawn into the conver- 
 sation, and relate matters certainly not to Philip's 
 discredit. 
 
 The latter had to tell again in all detail how he 
 had been lost in New York City, although he had 
 long since written Mr. Gross full particulars; and 
 the exclamations of the old gentleman now and then 
 were more expressive than elegant. 
 
 "Dem tarn schoundrels ought to be hung!" he ex- 
 claimed, striking his cane violently on the floor, when 
 Phillip had related the manner in which Pfeffer and 
 Krumm, after robbing him, had him locked up in the 
 police station. 
 
 "Now dat chudge was a good man ; dat was right ! 
 De whole bolice force ought to haf been sushpended," 
 was his comment on the police magistrate who dis- 
 charged Phillip and locked up and suspended the of- 
 ficer. 
 
 150
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 The Superintendent of Police was "a chentleman, 
 ef ery inch of him ; he is a great man und do anyting 
 for me." 
 
 But the climax of his approval was reached when 
 Phillip related how they had met Krumm, a year 
 later, and how Jack had thrashed him. "Hurrah for 
 dat boy ! Dat is a boy after mine own heart ! He's 
 a brick, he's a whole brickyard ! Wy didn't you bring 
 him along ? He must come und see me ; I will write 
 to him. Lord knows wat would haf become of you 
 if he hadn't been your frient. Und Sammy, you was 
 a f aitful frient, too ; I will make a man off you. Did 
 you see de fight, too, Sammy ?" 
 
 And Sammy had to tell the whole thing over again, 
 which he did with many boyish embellishments. 
 
 Briefly then Phillip sketched the remainder of his 
 experiences up to that day, reserving many little in- 
 cidents for future evenings. 
 
 Now and then Mr. Gross urged them to drink an- 
 other glass of wine, but the boys steadily declined; 
 this did not, however, deter him from cheerfully fin- 
 ishing the bottle alone. 
 
 "Well, I'm glad, anyhow, dat you are demperentz," 
 he remarked at one time, rather earnestly; "I wish 
 my Adolph would not drink so much," and after a 
 moment's pause, added, in the utmost good faith : "If 
 he would only drink moderately like his fadher, he 
 would be all right ; but dat young America you can't 
 do noting wid dem." 
 
 It was near midnight when Mrs. Gross finally sug- 
 gested that they retire. 
 
 151
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Yes, go wid ma, she'll show you to your room; 
 und to-morrow we can haf a long dalk. Did you bring 
 a drunk? No? Well, dake your satchels up along, 
 und we'll see wat you need in de morning. Goot 
 night, boys! Ma, come back und help me wid nay 
 foot; dat tarn ding is beginning to hurt again like 
 blazes," he added with a grimace, as he endeavored 
 to shift his position. 
 
 Our friends enjoyed a good night's rest, and the 
 sun was shining brightly into their room when they 
 awoke. 
 
 "Are you awake, Sammy?" asked Phillip, lightly 
 shaking him by the shoulder. 
 
 "Yes, Phil, just woke up. Say, Phil, I've been 
 thinking you won't mind, will you ? but I wish you 
 wouldn't call me 'Sammy' any more. Call me 'Sam,' ' 
 he said entreatingly. "You know I'm small enough 
 anyway, without constantly calling attention to my 
 size." 
 
 "Very well,, old boy; you shall be Samuel or Sam 
 to me hereafter, barring an occasional slip from old 
 habit. Reckon you are right ; we have started out to 
 make our fortunes as men, and we must assume the 
 manner of men 'though we'll slip up often enough ! 
 Well, let's get up." So saying, Phillip jumped out of 
 bed and proceeded to wash. 
 
 "Oh, look !" exclaimed Sam, as in deference to his 
 wishes we must hereafter call him, "isn't this a beau- 
 tiful neighborhood?" and his friend joined him at 
 the open window, while wiping his face with a towel. 
 
 It was, indeed, a pleasant scene that met their view. 
 The many quaint, old-fashioned residences, with here 
 
 152
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 and there one of more modern architecture, half con- 
 cealed by the massive shade trees that lined the streets 
 and studded wide green lawns, the sun just high 
 enough to cast fantastic shadows and make the dew 
 drops sparkle like ten thousand crystals, the fragrance 
 of the morning air, sweet scented by the flowers 
 blooming in every dooryard, all lent a charm to cap- 
 tivate the senses of our young friends who had long 
 lived in a crowded district of the poor in a large city. 
 
 "Let's hurry up and get out," Phillip exclaimed 
 eagerly, after gazing on the scene for a few minutes. 
 "This is too nice to stay indoors." 
 
 When they reached the sitting-room they found 
 Mrs. Gross, true to her early habits, already up and 
 giving directions for breakfast. She greeted them 
 very heartily and inquired how they had rested, and 
 whether their dreams had been pleasant. "I didn't 
 dream at all," Phillip answered laughingly ; "the bed 
 was so soft and nice, I could only sleep." But Sam 
 said he had beautiful dreams all night, and just when 
 he was sure he owned such a nice home himself he 
 awoke. 
 
 "Well, I'm so glad," Mrs. Gross rejoined, "because 
 you know," she added impressively, "wat one dreams 
 wen he schleeps in a house de firsht time always comes 
 true!" 
 
 Mr. Gross had not yet arisen; his ailment was 
 worse that morning, and he had just dropped off into 
 a second sleep. So Mrs. Gross said they would not 
 wait with breakfast. 
 
 If the old lady had found reason to admire our 
 friends' appetites on the evening before, she found 
 
 153
 
 PLUCK 
 
 renewed cause for delight in the manner in which 
 they did justice to her cooking that morning. 
 
 "It pays to cook for such boys as you. Dat's de 
 way pa used to eat, und Adolph but it's a long time 
 since he eat like dat it was before he took to drink- 
 ing so much," she added, sadly. 
 
 She told them that Adolph was married and lived 
 farther down town, so as to be near the business. His 
 wife was "a good woman, but she could do noding 
 wid him eider. Rosa," that was his little girl, twelve 
 years old, "she comes up here often, und she is the 
 best little girl wat it gives. She got her fodder's good 
 heart, but she looks just as pretty as her mudder did 
 wen she was a little ding like dat." 
 
 After breakfast, Phillip suggested a walk, and Mrs. 
 Gross urged them not to be gone too long, as "pa" 
 would be sure to want them when he got up. "Und 
 don't get lost boys," she cautioned them as they 
 started, "because dis is a large city." 
 
 Our friends smilingly assured her that they would 
 be careful, and would come back early. 
 
 For three hours they strolled about the beautiful 
 residence portions of the ancient city ancient at 
 least compared with many others that were then 
 rapidly approaching it in population and throbbing 
 life. Many of the houses bore evidence of bygone 
 years and carried the memories of the past like liv- 
 ing history. Here and there still stood a cherished 
 relio of revolutionary times to waft the thrill of 
 patriotism to the human heart. Some of the sights 
 impressed our young friends because they knew their 
 
 154
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 import from what they had read or heard much 
 more, however, their imagination supplied. 
 
 After a long tramp and a happy time, they re- 
 turned to Mr. Gross'. They found him up and 
 dressed, and resting comfortably in his easy chair, to 
 which the old lady and Clara, the stout German ser- 
 vant girl, had assisted him. 
 
 "Goot morning, boys," he greeted cheerfully ; "been 
 out to see de city ? Well, you will find Philadelphy 
 a fine old blace. I only wish I could show you 
 around, but my rheumatiz is so bad dis morning, I 
 can't walk at all." 
 
 "Never mind, uncle," Phillip replied, after return- 
 ing the greeting, "we will do very well alone. Sam 
 and I are no 'greenys' and we will know a good deal 
 about Philadelphia before the week is out. I'm sorry 
 your foot is so much worse this morning; is there 
 anything I can do for you ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, sit down and dalk to me. Wen ma is 
 busy I get awful lonesome sometimes." Then, turn- 
 ing to a flaxen-haired, bright-eyed little girl sitting 
 quietly listening on the sofa, he called to her, "Come 
 here Rosa und shake hands wid Phillip; dat is my 
 young frient from the ship; you two must be good 
 frients. Dat, Phillip," addressing the latter, "is my 
 little grandchild Rosa, und de best girl in de world." 
 
 "Ain't she pretty, eh?" he asked, as she came up 
 and blushingly extended her plump little hand to the 
 young man, who held it in his own for a moment, 
 while looking admiringly into her sunny face cov- 
 ered with the blush of roses, then turned and pre- 
 sented her to his friend. 
 
 155
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "This is my good friend, Sam Dornbush, a little 
 bashful at first, but true blue always. I know we 
 three will be friends." 
 
 Sam had been unable to withdraw his eyes from 
 her ever since he entered the room, and now flushed 
 crimson as he awkwardly touched the little hand ex- 
 tended to him and stammered that he was "glad to 
 make her acquaintance," or something equally elo- 
 quent. 
 
 The old gentleman soon engaged Phillip in con- 
 versation, while Rosa and Sam sat quietly listening 
 a short distance from them. She was interested, but 
 to Sam most of what he heard was not new. He 
 covertly watched the ever-changing expressions of 
 her face ; and, gradually forgetting all else, sat look- 
 ing straight at her, as though she were the only per- 
 son in the room besides himself. All at once she arose 
 and startled him by coming over to him and asking: 
 
 "Do I remind you of some one ?" 
 
 "N no," he stammered, blushing again. "I think 
 I have never seen any one like you ; you are so dif- 
 ferent." 
 
 "How different, ain't I as nice as other little girls, 
 those in New York ?" 
 
 "Oh, so much nicer," was Sam's enthusiastic, but 
 subdued response. 
 
 It was her turn to blush now, but she turned the 
 tables by saying: "Thank you, but mamma says it 
 isn't good manners to stare at people." And she left 
 him confused, to return to her seat, from which she, 
 however, observed him more closely than before. 
 
 156
 
 Mr. Gross and Phillip had not heard any of this 
 conversation, so engrossed were they in their own. 
 The latter had just stated that he now wanted to pay 
 back as much as he could of the loan, and that, after 
 a short visit, he would start for the west. 
 
 "Und I say you can't go !" finally almost shouted 
 the old man. "Wat you tinking about any way ! 
 First you get yourself lost in New York City, den 
 wen I find you you won't come, und now wen you 
 are here you won't shtay ! Nefer ! You can't go 
 away now I dell" he stopped suddenly while a groan 
 escaped his lips. In his excitement he had again for- 
 gotten his inflamed foot and moved it rather sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Phillip and the others were all sympathy in a mo- 
 ment ; but that did not help matters ; the pain had to 
 have its time to recede gradually. 
 
 After a while the old gentleman again began : 
 
 "No, no, Phillip, you must shtay wid me. I am 
 getting old and ma is, too. You know her old 
 trouble, and no one can say how long she will be wid 
 us. Rosa, gif me my handkerchief, dere, ofer dere on 
 the table." And he wiped his eyes and continued 
 earnestly : 
 
 "If ma should leave us I would be all alone. I 
 know I haf no right to hold you, but, Phillip, I like 
 you and you will do better here den to go out west. 
 I will send you to college; I would haf sent my 
 Adolph, but de boy would not go. But you are dif- 
 ferent und will be a whole man some day. I will 
 send you both to school and you can lif here und 
 keep me company out of school hours und in the efen- 
 
 157
 
 PLUCK 
 
 ings. Tink it ofer for a week wile you look about 
 town. I know your fadder will be happy if you 
 shtay wid me." 
 
 The earnest entreaty of the kindhearted old man 
 half persuaded our hero, and he felt the truth of his 
 closing remark. Yes, his father would prefer to have 
 him stay and improve such golden opportunity to get 
 an education. But the desire was strong within him 
 to try his fortune in the great west. He felt the abil- 
 ity to battle with adversity, and the conviction of ulti- 
 mate success. A feeling of self-reliance and inde- 
 pendence had taken root in his breast, and the thought 
 of a time when all his strength should be put to the 
 test thrilled him in every fibre of his being. 
 
 His experiences had matured a naturally earnest 
 nature beyond its years, and at the age of fifteen he 
 possessed the self-confidence and firmness of purpose 
 which had carried thousands of American boys to 
 victory before him. American life tends to early 
 development, and at years when others are still under 
 the sheltering protection of the paternal roof -tree, we 
 often find our boys boldly striking out for themselves, 
 and hewing with sturdy purpose a pathway to vic- 
 tory. 
 
 "All right, uncle, I will accept your kind hos- 
 pitality for two weeks, and if I finally make up my 
 mind to accept your generous offer, I'll try never to 
 make you feel sorry for it," Phillip answered after a 
 long pause. 
 
 "Won't you come down and see mamma this after- 
 noon grandpa will let you, won't you, grandpa, 
 dear?" spoke up Rosa. 
 
 158
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 "Yes, of course, boys, go and see Rosa's mamma; 
 und you must take dem down to see your papa, too. 
 Tell your papa to come und see me, he has not been 
 up for a week," he answered. 
 
 "Well, boys, you got back all right, I see," came 
 from Mrs. Gross, who was just entering the room ; 
 "Philadelphy is a big city und it makes me awful 
 tired to walk around ; but you young boys don't mind 
 it. Did you bring back an appetite ? Come on, din- 
 ner is ready ; come Rosa, grandpa just had his break- 
 fast und don't want any dinner," and she hustled 
 them out into the adjoining dining room. 
 
 "Say, ma," the latter called after her, "leave de 
 door open, so I can hear your dalk." 
 
 Mrs. Gross apologized for the dinner, she had an 
 attack of one of her "dizzy shpells" in the forenoon, 
 and had to leave most of the work to Clara ; but the 
 meal seemed as fine to them as any our young friends 
 had ever tasted. 
 
 When dinner was concluded and after visiting with 
 the old gentleman for an hour, Rosa insisted on the 
 promised call at her mamma's; and soon the boys 
 were under way, with the little girl pointing out in 
 childish enthusiasm all the noteworthy sights on the 
 route. 
 
 After half an hour's walking they reached her 
 papa's home. It was not unlike the modern flats, 
 wedged in between the other houses in a street closely 
 built up. There were shade trees lining both sides 
 of the street, but little evidence of lawns or garden 
 plots. 
 
 159
 
 PLUCK 
 
 The boys followed Rosa into the house and were 
 presented to her mother, who received them with 
 gracious welcome. 
 
 She was a woman of slight figure, and but little 
 over thirty years of age; her countenance bore evi- 
 dence of quiet grief; her eyes, blue like Rosa's, had 
 a half-veiled look of sadness, while her hair was 
 already streaked with gray. 
 
 She soon made the boys feel at ease by her gentle 
 friendliness, and her kindly heart awoke an answer- 
 ing echo in theirs. They liked her from the first 
 moment, and the memories of their own dear moth- 
 ers' love instinctively drew their hearts to her. 
 
 Rosa's father was down town, presumably at his 
 place of business, and thither she, after a while, pro- 
 posed to conduct her young companions. They were 
 reluctant to leave, and readily promised to soon re- 
 peat the visit. 
 
 When they arrived at the place where they had re- 
 ceived directions on the evening before, Mr. Gross 
 was absent ; but Rosa, with grave importance, under- 
 took to show them about the establishment. The of- 
 fice was located in the rear part of the main store 
 room. Tiers of barrels filled with liquor lined both 
 sides, and another row extended the whole length of 
 the room through the center. The second floor was 
 filled with all manner of casks, bottles, barrels, boxes 
 and other packages for shipping. 
 
 "But the cellars you ought to see, they are full of 
 wines from bottom to top. I will get Mr. Dorn to 
 go down with us it's so dark I don't like to go 
 alone," Rosa said when they had returned to the 
 
 160
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 main floor. Then she called Mr. Dorn, one of the 
 salesmen, who willingly brought a light and showed 
 our friends the massive cellars filled with vast stores 
 of foreign wines. Some, he said, were twenty years 
 old. In reply to Sam's question why they did not 
 sell it before it got so old, he informed them that 
 the wines improved and became more valuable with 
 age, some of the heavier ones not reaching perfection 
 until full thirty years old. 
 
 It was interesting, and new. Sam stopped to talk 
 with some of the boys engaged in washing bottles in 
 one of the packing rooms at the front end of the cel- 
 lar, and came to the conclusion that it was easy work. 
 
 When they again reached the office, Mr. Gross had 
 returned, and Rosa introduced our young friends. 
 He was evidently somewhat the worse for liquor, but 
 tried hard to conceal it. He was of medium height, a 
 little portly, and his red face and watery eyes clearly 
 showed the effects of much dissipation. Originally 
 of a kindly, easygoing disposition, strong drink, ex- 
 cessively indulged in, had made him cross and irrit- 
 able except when under its influence at which times 
 he was unduly gracious to everybody. 
 
 His greeting left nothing to be desired. He patted 
 his little daughter's head and took her on his knee. 
 
 "How is grandpa and grandma ?" he inquired, "for 
 I suppose you have been there to-day." 
 
 "Yes, I took dinner there," Rosa answered ; "grand- 
 ma is quite well, but grandpa is unable to walk, his 
 rheumatism is so bad ; and he wants you to call. He 
 said you had not been to see him for a week." 
 
 161
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "His rheumatism is bad, ha, ha, ha ; poor grandpa 
 is bound to believe it's rheumatism ! But true, I 
 ought to call. Well, we'll go up together to-morrow, 
 rosebud, won't we ?" and he kissed her tenderly. 
 
 "I supose you will stay in Philadelphia for a while 
 now that you have finally got here ? The old gentle- 
 man talked of your coming so long without result, 
 that I began to doubt even your existence. And it's 
 wonderful stories he told about you," he said, address- 
 ing Phillip; "he claims you saved his life on ship- 
 board." 
 
 "Oh, it was not so bad as that," Phillip answered 
 with a smile ; "the doctor said he was in no particular 
 danger, and all I did was to keep him company and 
 now and then pass him his medicine or fix his pillows. 
 He wanted some one to be near him and to talk to." 
 
 "Yes, that's just like him ; it would kill him to be 
 alone with no one to talk to, and so perhaps after all 
 you saved his life," was the laughing rejoinder. 
 
 To his question as to how long they would remain 
 in the city, Phillip answered that they had not made 
 up their minds. Mr. Gross wanted them to remain 
 and go to college ; but that he wished to go out West. 
 
 "That's right, strike out and do something; these 
 college-bred fellows never make good business men. 
 The old gent wanted me to go to college, too, but I 
 wouldn't do it; and I can handle my business first 
 rate ;" and he looked around at his clerks with pride. 
 
 "I can give one of you a job right now ; there is a 
 vacancy in the shipping-room. It's not much of a po- 
 sition, but I'm the man to give a kid a chance to work 
 up if he's up to snuff," he continued ; "which one of 
 
 162
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 you will it be ?" and he looked from one to the other. 
 
 "I thank you," Phillip answered ; "but if I stay in 
 the city at all, I'll accept your father's proposition." 
 
 "Then I will take the position," Sam spoke up. 
 "When do you want me to begin ?" 
 
 Adolph Gross looked at Phillip with considerable 
 disfavor on hearing his reply ; but turned very pleas- 
 antly toward Sam when the latter accepted his offer. 
 
 "It won't be to your loss, my boy," he said. "You 
 can start in at any time, the sooner the better, because 
 there is plenty of work." 
 
 "Then I will start to-morrow if Mr. Gross con- 
 sents." 
 
 Rosa had been watching them both closely, and gave 
 Sam such a grateful look when he accepted that he 
 would have been willing to work without any com- 
 pensation if necessary. But the wages offered were 
 good, in fact, looked quite excessive to him. 
 
 On the way back she said she was so glad Sam had 
 accepted her papa's offer and hoped they would call 
 often at her house. There they left her, and returned 
 to Peter Gross' just in time for supper. 
 
 That evening they had another long talk, in which 
 Mr. Gross repeatedly urged Phillip to take the oppor- 
 tunity to get a better education, and before they re- 
 tired for the night the latter gladdened his heart by 
 saying : 
 
 "I will accept your kindness, because I feel it 
 would be my father's wish ; although I can do little 
 to repay you." 
 
 "Pay me, who's dalking about pay ?" Mr. Gross ex- 
 claimed joyously. "I get more pay out of it dan you 
 
 163
 
 PLUCK 
 
 tink for. Ho, ma, now we won't get lonesome any 
 more ! Bodh de boys got to lif here. Sam can take 
 his dinner down town, but efenings we will be toged- 
 der. Olara ! Clara !" he shouted, "get a bottle of old 
 Johannisberger, I'm going to celebrate on dis !" 
 
 He urged the boys to drink, but they quietly de- 
 clined. Their observation of the day set them both 
 to thinking more seriously than ever before of the 
 dangers lurking in intoxicants. True, they had seen 
 enough of the baneful effects of liquor in their young 
 lives especially had Sammy suffered from its curse ; 
 but, somehow, their hearts never before felt the touch 
 of danger as Adolph's looks, on that day, had brought 
 it home to them. A man of the kindest heart and 
 sympathies going to an early grave through its vicious 
 grasp on his appetite. 
 
 Phillip even went so far as to suggest to Mr. Gross 
 that the wine would make his foot worse for the mor- 
 row, but old Peter almost resented it. "Wine don't 
 hurt me, don't you believe it! I drinked wine for 
 forty years und it nefer hurt me. It's de wedder 
 wat's in my foot, dat's all. So long as I lif I can 
 drink too of course wid moderation." 
 
 "Tree years ago next New Years," he continued, "I 
 made up my mind dat I must be more temperentz. 
 I nefer drinkt to excess, understand, because I nefer 
 got drunk, anyway not fery often; but den I some- 
 times took a few bottles more dan I ought to and got 
 de headache in de morning. So I made up my mind 
 to shwear off drinking so much und going out to the 
 clubs in the efenings. You see, Monday night dere 
 was de Skaat club ; Toosday night, the 'old men's so- 
 
 164
 
 PETER GROSS 
 
 cial club' ; Wednesday night, men's 'Gesang Verein' ; 
 Tursday night, concert, wen ma went along, imd after 
 de concert some little refreshments at Shteinmeyer's ; 
 und so it went pretty near all de week. Off course 
 no man could shtand dat forefer. So I made up my 
 mind to reform. Now I takes only one bottle before 
 dinner, one or two in de afternoon, und about one or 
 so in the efening. Off course, on special occasions, 
 wen I don't feel chust right, or wen I have company, 
 or wen I get de blues, maybe den I take a little 
 more. Aber, I nefer go out efenings now; I always 
 shtay at home mit ma. Off course, it was hard at 
 fursht," he added with a sigh, "but now I am used 
 to it, und I can get along fery well." 
 
 Phillip said no more. The old gentleman evidently 
 was sincere in the belief of his extreme moderation, 
 and it was just as well to leave him in such belief 
 it was too late to make a change. 
 
 165
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 HE next year of Phillip's life was, with 
 few exceptions, uneventful. The ar- 
 rangements were made nearly as the 
 elder Mr. Gross wished them. Phillip 
 went to school ; but Sam insisted upon taking the po- 
 sition offered by Rosa's. father. His duties, however, 
 left him the long evenings to himself, and Phillip be- 
 came his tutor in many things. Both boys lived at 
 the home of Peter Gross, and, if they had been his 
 sons, their treatment could not have been better. 
 
 The money Phillip had saved to pay back what 
 he considered a loan, Mr. Gross positively refused to 
 take, and finally made the young man keep it as a 
 birthday present. He used a part to purchase suitable 
 clothing and the necessary books, and in a short time 
 after their arrival he was attending one of the excel- 
 lent schools for which Philadelphia was even then 
 noted. 
 
 During their leisure hours they cheered their kind 
 old friends to the best of their ability. They even 
 learned to play Mr. Gross' favorite games of cards, 
 to help him while away the tedious hours. Occasion- 
 ally his health showed temporary improvement, and 
 
 166
 
 A YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA 
 
 the boys would help him out onto the veranda or lawn 
 to enjoy the warm summer evenings ; but most of the 
 time his "rheumatiz" confined him to his chair and 
 the house. 
 
 They still had ample time, however, to stroll about 
 the city and learn to know its points of interest. Fair- 
 mount Park soon became Phillip's favorite resort, as 
 Central Park had been in New York. It seemed to 
 bring him nearer to and in touch with nature. There 
 he would often go with his books under his arm to 
 get his lessons. Sunday afternoons, when Mr. Gross 
 was taking his accustomed nap, both boys could al- 
 ways be found there, often accompanied by Rosa, and 
 sometimes also by her mother. 
 
 Rosa, too, was going to school, and often she would 
 come up to the house to have Phillip help her get her 
 lessons. Sam would then be an eager listener; in 
 fact, many times he could repeat the whole exercises 
 after they were through. 
 
 A warm attachment sprang up between Rosa and 
 Sam, whose early lives and surroundings had been so 
 different; there was a cord of mutual sympathy in 
 their natures which drew them together. He was at- 
 tentive to her every wish and whim, and she accepted 
 his little services with a graciousness that made his 
 heart glad. 
 
 The summer vacation was short, and it passed like 
 a dream of pleasure to young Bertram. It was a 
 period of his life never to be forgotten. Surrounded 
 by the kindliest of friends, without a care or worry, 
 free to roam as suited fancy the days passed all too 
 fast. 
 
 167
 
 PLUCK 
 
 When the fall term began he felt a thrill of vigor 
 and strength which made his studies a pleasure. Pro- 
 fessor Heidborn, the teacher of German, whom 
 Phillip informed of his intentions for the future, and 
 that he could probably not conclude a full course, 
 helped him to select such studies as would be of the 
 most benefit ; and he applied himself with such energy 
 to his work that he was soon the equal of those whose 
 whole young lives had been spent in preparatory edu- 
 cation. 
 
 Nor did he neglect athletic exercises. In boxing 
 and wrestling he had no superior, and in rowing and 
 swimming he soon held his own with the majority. 
 He was growing rapidly and developing into a strong 
 symmetrical young man. Before the year closed he 
 had decidedly outgrown his clothes, and he gave them 
 to Sam and purchased others with the remainder of 
 his funds. 
 
 One thing happened during the first year that cast 
 a deep cloud over the happiness of our friends. Just 
 before Christmas Mrs. Peter Gross had another stroke 
 of apoplexy, from which she never recovered. Phillip 
 was called from school at eleven o'clock in the fore- 
 noon, and when he reached home found her stretched 
 out upon the bed, conscious, but unable to speak. He 
 stepped to the bedside and bent over her. Gently he 
 parted the hair which had fallen down on her fore- 
 head and kissed her. She evidently knew him and 
 her eyes sought his. A look of deep entreaty filled 
 them. Phillip understood. "No, while he lives I 
 will never leave him," he answered the mute appeal. 
 
 168
 
 A YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA 
 
 Her lips slightly parted as if in the effort to speak, 
 but they emitted no sound. The trace of a grateful 
 smile showed in her countenance. He had understood 
 her, and she trusted his word. 
 
 The doctor, who had been hastily summoned, called 
 him to the next room. 
 
 "I understand from Mr. Gross that you are to have 
 charge of the affairs here for the present," he said in 
 a low voice. "I will not conceal from you the true 
 situation. Mrs. Gross will live but a few days longer ; 
 she is sinking fast, even now ; but I fear very much 
 for the life of the old gentleman also. In their own 
 homely way they were intensely devoted to each other 
 and the blow will be the more severe owing to his con- 
 dition. Keep him from indulging his grief too much, 
 or attempting to drown it in the way most natural to 
 him you understand. Excess, now, might be fatal 
 even more speedily than we may anticipate." 
 
 Phillip sought Mr. Gross. He was lying back in 
 his chair sleeping uneasily ; and a half empty bottle 
 of his strongest wine and an empty glass stood before 
 him on the little table. 
 
 Quietly the young man removed the bottle and 
 glass, and ordered Clara not to bring him any more 
 without first consulting him, no matter what Mr. 
 Gross might demand. ."The doctor has forbidden it 
 unless we wish to bury both," he said earnestly. 
 
 Olara wept and promised obedience. 
 
 Phillip returned to the sitting-room and took a 
 seat near to Mr. Gross. The latter talked incoherent- 
 ly in his sleep. Once he muttered, "Ma, ma, don't 
 leave me yes, I come soon oh, poor ma, und I 
 
 169
 
 can't do nodding for you iff only Phillip was here." 
 Then he shifted his position uneasily and awoke. 
 
 "Oh, Phillip, I'm so glad you come," he said with 
 mingled joy and sadness ; "haf you seen ma ? How is 
 she, is she getting better ?" and he looked beseechingly 
 into the sober face of the youth. 
 
 Phillip assured him that the doctor was doing all 
 that he could, and that he must not despair; "but, 
 uncle, we must always be prepared for the worst. God 
 alone knows when her time has come. No matter 
 what happens, I will stay with you, I have promised." 
 
 Tears ran down the old man's cheeks, and his 
 young friend turned away to conceal his own. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know. You haf seen her. Her last 
 toughts will be of me. Iff she dies I will soon follow." 
 
 "Oh, you must not despair," urged Phillip; "she 
 may recover and live many years yet." But his tone 
 lacked conviction, and the old man felt that the situ- 
 ation was hopeless. 
 
 After a while he turned and said, "Go tell Clara 
 to bring back dat bottle of wine, she must haf put it 
 away to keep it cool." 
 
 "No," Phillip answered, "I took it away while you 
 slept, by the doctor's orders." 
 
 At any other time old Peter would have flared up 
 in great anger, but now he only groaned and reclined 
 more deeply in his chair. 
 
 "I suppose I must obey now, because I can't help 
 myself," he lamented ; "Oh, iff only ma was here !" 
 
 But "ma" would never come to humor or wait on 
 him again. These two, who had breasted the storms 
 of life together, true and faithful to one another 
 
 170
 
 through, adversity and toil, from poverty to wealth, 
 should never more look into each other's kindly eyes 
 or press the friendly hand. On the third day after 
 the attack, Mrs. Gross yielded up the spirit, and soon 
 our young friends and a large circle of mourners fol- 
 lowed her bier to the last resting place. Mr. Gross 
 was too ill to leave his bed. "I'm coming, ma, I'm 
 coming soon," he wept as they carried her remains 
 through the doorway. 
 
 171
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER. 
 
 SHORT holiday vacation had begun, and 
 Phillip, greatly assisted by Rosa and her 
 mother, undertook to cheer up the old man ; 
 and, indeed, after the first few days, he 
 took matters philosophically and appeared to be re- 
 signed, although it was apparent his thoughts con- 
 stantly dwelt on his loss. Something had gone out of 
 his life, which left it incomplete. 
 
 When school began again, Phillip continued his 
 studies. It was the old man's wish, and, as he said, 
 "Clara will dake care of me wen you are away." 
 
 In fact, he preferred to have the rest away at times, 
 because Clara would then usually obey his orders, 
 and he could find temporary forgetfulness in an extra 
 bottle of his favorite wine. 
 
 Toward spring it became apparent that he was fail- 
 ing rapidly; at times he would talk cheerfully, then 
 again he would sit for hours in a state bordering on 
 torpor. 
 
 One evening he said to Phillip, "I want you to 
 shtop in at Lawyer Orton's office to-morrow, und dell 
 him to come up here ; I want to make my will. Anna," 
 to his son's wife sitting near, "Adolph need not worry, 
 
 172
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER 
 
 he will get nearly all ; aber I want to do someting for 
 Phillip. He has been a better frient to me dan I haf 
 been to him." 
 
 "Oh, father, don't think that I will find fault. 
 While we hope you may live many years yet, it is best 
 to be prepared for the worst, and whatever you do for 
 Phillip will meet my approval." 
 
 After a time Adolph came also ; but the old gentle- 
 man said nothing to him about a will. His son had his 
 usual dose of spirits and was very talkative and hu- 
 morous. 
 
 "That Sammy, he's a brick. What do you think 
 he done to-day? Oh, that's all right, Sammy," ad- 
 dressing the latter, who flushed deeply, "a good ac- 
 tion deserves praise." Then turning again to the 
 rest, "He saved me a clean hundred dollars. I sold 
 Hinterschmidt in Buffalo a Barrel of '47 'Nierstein- 
 er,' and that scoundrel Ortmann was filling it with 
 my best 'Hohheimer,' when Sammy discovered it and 
 told me of it. I tell you there was music for a while !" 
 
 "How that boy has caught onto the business so 
 quick is more than I can tell. When old Meyer 
 leaves, and that won't be long, I'm going to give him 
 a lift to the front in great shape." 
 
 All were pleased at the words of praise for Sam ; 
 but the latter only looked modestly at the floor, cast- 
 ing now and then a furtive glance at Kosa, to read, 
 if possible, in her bright eyes, how she took it. 
 
 It was late when they parted that night. Phillip 
 and Sam, as usual, assisted the old gentleman to his 
 bed, and left him with a cheerful "Good night, uncle." 
 
 173
 
 PLUCK 
 
 In the morning when they arose, a little later than 
 usual, they took breakfast and proceeded to say good- 
 bye to their old friend, who usually lay in bed until 
 nearly noon, before going to their respective labors. 
 
 He did not move when they approached the bed- 
 side, and Phillip stepped nearer to see whether he 
 was asleep. 
 
 In a moment he sank to his knees and began to 
 weep. Sam looked and saw what Phillip had seen: 
 Their good, kind old friend cold and still, his glassy 
 eyes turned to the ceiling, his lips blue and motion- 
 less and he, too, wept for the friend he had lost. 
 
 Soon Phillip slowly arose, and, still weeping, ten- 
 derly closed the lids, and went to call Clara. He left 
 her and Sam in charge of the dead and departed to 
 break the sad news to the son and his family. 
 
 I will not dwell on the sacred duties that ended 
 with depositing the mortal remains in the grave, or 
 the grief that filled the hearts of those who had loved 
 him. In spite of his failings, he had been a noble, 
 large-hearted man, generous and charitable; and 
 very, very many had learned to love him. 
 
 After the funeral, Adolph announced that he would 
 give up his down town house, which he had only rent- 
 ed, and move into the old home. 
 
 "You two boys can board here as before, but you 
 will have to pay board. That is the best way to learn 
 to make your way ; learn to earn and pay as you go." 
 
 "Phillip," he continued, addressing himself to the 
 latter, "I know, of course, that you were living here 
 free, at the request of my father, and that he was 
 paying your tuition at school; and you can continue 
 
 174
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER 
 
 to do so until the present term closes; then you will 
 have to find work. I have not the inducement to 
 burden myself with giving you a fine college educa- 
 tion, as father seemed to have," and he smiled grimly. 
 
 Mrs. Gross wanted to intercede in Phillip's behalf, 
 but her husband cut her short. He had given his 
 "orders, and so it shall be carried out." 
 
 Phillip flushed deeply because the manner, more 
 than the words, of Mr. Gross gave him to understand 
 that the latter had not forgiven the election he made 
 at the time of their first meeting, and that he consid- 
 ered him a burden which he would throw off as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 He said nothing, but his mind was made up in a 
 moment. He would not stay longer than was neces- 
 sary to pack his small belongings, would say good- 
 bye to his teachers and schoolmates, and then com- 
 mence his long-planned journey to the West. 
 
 Sam entered the room while he was packing, and, 
 seeing him thus engaged, asked in surprise : 
 
 "Why, Phil, what are you doing? What are you 
 packing your satchel for?" 
 
 "Sam," Phillip very deliberately answered, 
 straightening up, "I'm going to start for the West. I 
 have no right to trespass on these people's bounty. 
 It was different while our old friend was alive," and 
 the tears came to his eyes at the recollection of the 
 generous friend he had lost. 
 
 "Oh, Phil, stay until your term is out. Mrs. Gross 
 and Rosa will be so sorry to have you go just as if 
 you had been thrown out," pleaded Sam. 
 
 175
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Yes, I know ; Mrs. Gross and Rosa will be sorry 
 to have me go, and so will you; and I hate to leave 
 you all. But it is spring now and I have all summer 
 before me to find a suitable location and employment. 
 I want to get into the country, and this is the best 
 time to start; besides," he added while the heat was 
 returning to his face, "I do not want the charity of 
 Adolph Gross." 
 
 "Then I'll go with you, Phil, I can't bear to have 
 you leave me," and before Phillip could reply, Sam 
 rushed out of the room to tell Mr. Gross of their de- 
 termination. 
 
 When he reached the sitting-room he found that 
 the new master of the house had started down town, 
 and Mrs. Gross had retired to arrange her room. 
 Rosa alone remained. She was sitting in a chair 
 near an open window, dreamily looking out toward 
 the street. 
 
 She turned as Sam entered so hastily and looked 
 at him with some surprise. The latter, when he found 
 the others gone, stopped suddenly near the door, turn- 
 ing his hat, which he held in both hands, round and 
 round by the brim, while his red face showed strong 
 confusion. 
 
 "Were you looking for papa ? He has just started 
 down town," she said. 
 
 "Yes, I I had something to tell him," he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 "I don't think he will be back until late ; but you 
 can tell him in the morning." 
 
 "No, I must tell him to-day. Maybe I will find 
 him in the office." 
 
 176
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER 
 
 "I hardly think you will, Sam," and her voice and 
 look indicated that she knew it was a different desire 
 that took him down town at that hour of the day than 
 attending to business. "But is it so important? 
 What is it, may I know ?" and she looked at him so 
 sweetly that Sam was all the more confused. 
 
 Finally he blurted out, "Phillip is going to go out 
 west without staying the term out, and I I have 
 made up my mind to to go with him." 
 
 Rosa jumped up from her chair and her face was 
 as red as his. "Phillip is going away, and you you 
 are going with him ?" she exclaimed in confusion and 
 astonishment, as though she could not grasp his mean- 
 ing. 
 
 "Yes, he says he has no right to remain any longer, 
 and spring is the best time to start." 
 
 "And you why do you want to leave us?" she 
 asked anxiously, while the color receded from her 
 face. 
 
 "I I don't want to let him go alone, I would miss 
 him so much," he answered falteringly, while endeav- 
 oring to suppress the emotion which the thought of 
 parting brought up. 
 
 Slowly she sat down in her chair. What was it 
 that made her heart beat so, and made her sudden- 
 ly feel so forlorn! And Sammy could not under- 
 stand why, all at once, he felt his desire to go with 
 Phillip desert him. 
 
 "We will miss you, too, very much," she finally 
 ventured to say without looking at him. 
 
 Instantly Sam started towards her, but stopped 
 after taking a few steps. "I will miss you more than 
 
 177
 
 PLUCK 
 
 all," he checked himself; then continued, "Oh, I 
 don't know what to do !" 
 
 "Then stay with us," came the quick, half-pleading 
 response. 
 
 "May I be your your friend?" he asked breath- 
 lessly, "Oh, I like you so much !" and he approached 
 closer to her chair while the blood rushed to his brain. 
 
 "Yes, and don't go away," came softly from the 
 sweetest lips Sammy had ever seen. 
 
 Awkwardly he seized her hand. He was going to 
 kiss it, but he didn't dare. The emotions of his heart 
 tumbled over each other. One moment she raised her 
 glance to his that settled it! A hope, a rich joy 
 thrilled him. Go away ! A yoke of steers could not 
 have pulled him away from Philadelphia ! 
 
 After a moment of awkward silence he let go her 
 hand, and started for the door to go to see Phillip, 
 when Mrs. Gross entered. His flushed countenance 
 apprised her of something unusual having occurred, 
 and, in answer to her inquiry, Sam informed her that 
 Phillip was going away and would not wait until the 
 term was out. 
 
 She was very sorry, and at once accompanied him 
 to his friend's room and endeavored to dissuade him 
 from his purpose, but without avail. She could not 
 help but recognize the force of Phillip's reasons, and 
 finally sadly left him to complete the letter he was 
 writing to his parents. 
 
 When she reached the sitting-room she found Rosa 
 in tears. After a little motherly coaxing she admit- 
 ted that she felt bad because the boys were going 
 away. 
 
 178
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER 
 
 "The boys ?" exclaimed Mrs. Gross in surprise, 
 "Why Sam did not say anything about his going too ; 
 did he tell you he was going with Phillip ?" 
 
 Rosa energetically nodded her head, still battling 
 with her tears. 
 
 Just then Sam came back, and Mrs. Gross greeted 
 him with : 
 
 "Sam, you surely are not going away too, are you ?" 
 
 "No, ma'am, I have made up my mind to stay," 
 was his ready reply. 
 
 A less keen observer than her mother would have 
 thought it strange to see how quickly that reply 
 caused Rosa's tears to cease. But "mamma" had 
 been young herself one day, and that not so very long 
 ago; and she had long seen the growth of youthful 
 affection between these two without fear for her little 
 one. Young Dornbush gave promise of becoming a 
 trusty man, even though the old gentleman had not 
 lived long enough to "make a man off him" in his 
 way, and she had no foolish pride of wealth or posi- 
 tion. Her own experience led her to prize manly 
 virtues in a husband as the only guarantee to a wife's 
 happiness. 
 
 She therefore did not remark upon what she had 
 just observed, though she knew she had found the key 
 to Sam's previous flustered condition. 
 
 In a short time Phillip came down stairs, satchel 
 in hand. 
 
 Mrs. Gross jumped up. "What, Phillip, you are 
 surely not going to-day, now ?" she exclaimed in great 
 surprise, and on his answering that he had come to 
 say good-bye, she besought him with such earnest- 
 
 179
 
 PLUCK 
 
 ness, seconded by the others, that he yielded and con- 
 sented to spend the evening with them and another 
 night in the house where, after all, he had seen so 
 many of his happiest days. 
 
 All evening they sat together in the cozy room 
 where old Peter Gross had been wont to pass his wak- 
 ing hours during the last few years of his life, and 
 talked over the past. Phillip also told them as much 
 as he could of his plans for the future. He would 
 write as soon as he had a place where he would re- 
 main long enough to receive an answer. His intention 
 was to travel leisurely, and mostly on foot, to be there- 
 by better enabled to observe the country through 
 which he would pass. Sam urged him to accept some 
 of his savings as a loan, but this he refused to do. He 
 had some money left, and could earn more when he 
 needed it. 
 
 At ten o'clock Mr. Gross returned, feeling very 
 jovial. He had attended to their former home, and 
 arranged to have the futniture moved up the next 
 day. Then he had gone down town and evidently 
 stimulated to his usual extent. 
 
 When he heard of Phillip's quick resolve, he was 
 surprised, and half regretted that he had been so 
 abrupt in the matter ; but the young man was pleas- 
 ant about it, thinking it best to show no annoyance 
 and thus part more like friends; and insisted that, 
 since he always intended to go out west anyway, he 
 thought it better to go now when he had the best 
 months in the year for traveling before him. 
 
 The next morning he went back to the school to say 
 good-bye to teachers and schoolmates; and he was 
 
 180
 
 A GOOD FRIEND GONE FOREVER 
 
 happy to see, in this moment of parting, how many 
 warm friends he had made. They crowded around 
 him and expressed their regret at his going away, in 
 a manner that showed their sincerity ; and he carried 
 with him the good wishes of them all. 
 
 Then he returned to the house and bade farewell to 
 Mrs. Gross and Rosa; both kissed him and wept as 
 he left them. Adolph Gross was indisposed and had 
 not yet arisen, so Phillip's last recollection of him 
 must remain that of the evening before when he was 
 in his friendliest mood. Sam accompanied him for 
 some distance; then after a tearful embrace the two 
 friends parted, not to meet again until after many 
 years ; Sam returned to his work and Bertram started 
 for the great West. 
 
 181
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN. 
 
 NE quiet frosty morning, late in No- 
 vember, 1860, two men were driving 
 ox teams, attached to homemade sleighs 
 heavily laden with logs, over a rough 
 country road blazed through a vast stretch of hard- 
 wood forest. The moist breath of the tugging oxen 
 rose like steam in the frosty air and decked them with 
 hoary down. The squeaking of the sleighs and 
 crunching of the heavy cowhide boots of the two driv- 
 ers, accompanied now and then by words of encour- 
 agement or direction to the animals, was at the mo- 
 ment all that could be heard. Both men seemed occu- 
 pied with their own thoughts. 
 
 Presently they approached a steep ascent and the 
 foremost load stopped until the other, but a few paces 
 behind, had come up. Without a word, as though 
 repeating an oft recurring act, the driver of the rear 
 team unhitched his oxen, drove them by the other and 
 hitched to the front end of the heavy pole. Immedi- 
 ately the first load, now drawn by the four powerful 
 beasts, began the ascent. When the summit was 
 reached, the oxen were returned for the other load. 
 As soon as both loads had been drawn up the hill, and 
 
 182
 
 "Two men were driving ox-teams"
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN 
 
 each yoke hitched to its previous load, they again 
 started. Soon after a sharp decline was reached, and 
 the drivers could be seen moving to the rear of the 
 runners of their respective sleighs and tripping down 
 the brake so that its sharp iron point could dig into 
 the compact roadbed. When the descent had been 
 made, the brakes were again raised and tipped for- 
 ward to rest upon the runner. Scarcely a word had 
 been exchanged by the men during these proceedings ; 
 and the promptness and almost mechanical manner in 
 which they had performed the little manoeuvres 
 showed that they were well accustomed to the work. 
 
 But now there lay a long stretch of comparatively 
 smooth road before them, and the rear driver, leaving 
 his team to follow in the wake of the other, with a 
 few quick paces placed himself at the side of his com- 
 panion, and broke the silence that had lasted for sev- 
 eral miles, with the words : "I can't believe it, sure 
 I can't ! They cannot be such fools !" 
 
 The speaker was a rather tall, wiry built young 
 man, about twenty-eight years of age. His companion 
 was several years his junior but of nearly equal 
 height. Both men were dressed in the coarse garb of 
 the backwoods farmer, with a coonskin cap on the 
 head and heavy cowhide boots on the feet, and showed 
 by their weather-bronzed faces, their horny hands and 
 vigorous movements, that they were accustomed to 
 hard outdoor work. A light brown mustache, now 
 covered with white frost, could not conceal the grave 
 expression of the mouth of the younger as he now 
 turned to answer his companion. 
 
 183
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "And yet, Jack, it will come, incredible as it may 
 seem. They are blind, simply blind. A desperate 
 struggle will follow, and it may be a long one ; but the 
 northern soldiers will continue to pour forth from 
 city, village and farms long after the resources of the 
 south have been exhausted, and the result will be 
 that they will lose the right to keep their slaves even 
 in the states where it is now not disputed. Mark my 
 words: Sooner or later the crime of slavery will 
 bring about its own punishment to this nation, and I 
 fear it will take the form of the miseries of a civil 
 war. But I tell you," he added after a pause, and his 
 eyes blazed, "before that war is ended slavery will be 
 blotted out in the United States. If they rebel and 
 make war against our government, as surely as Lin- 
 coln lives to be inaugurated next March, as surely will 
 he free the slaves !" 
 
 "Yes, Phil, and that is just what they are afraid 
 he will do any way, so they may think it's best to take 
 time by the forelock and move first." 
 
 They are our two old friends, Phillip Bertram and 
 Jack O'Donnell, whom, after a lapse of nearly nine 
 years, we find discussing the probabilities of civil 
 war, up in the woods of Wisconsin. Nor is it diffi- 
 cult to recognize them again. Both have developed 
 into splendid types of young manhood active, pow- 
 erful and courageous ; but the outline of countenance 
 and its expression remain^ the same, albeit more fixed 
 and clear cut. 
 
 The reader may ask, why do we find them here, 
 and why have you not told us of their experiences in 
 this interval of nine years. Well, I'll explain : When 
 
 184
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN 
 
 I began to write I thought it an easy matter to bring 
 all the incidents in the life of my hero into a small 
 volume; now I find it would take several of them. 
 Already have I taken up more of my readers' time in 
 telling of his boyhood days than I ought, so that it 
 leaves me insufficient space to relate much of his life 
 after he arrived at manhood's estate. And yet, there 
 would be so much to tell! As briefly, therefore, as 
 may be, I will account for his presence where we now 
 find him and his friend. 
 
 When Phillip left Philadelphia in the spring of 
 1851, he at first intended to take a more northerly 
 direction ; but after a few days' journey concluded to 
 strike out straight westward. He would make his 
 first stopping place in Ohio if he could find employ- 
 ment. Thus, with his bundle slung on a stick over 
 his shoulder and another stout stick in his hand, he 
 marched until wearied, day after day, sometimes fol- 
 lowing a railroad track, sometimes a highway, and 
 sometimes, under directions of some settler, striking 
 out across country to make a short cut to some place 
 he wished to see. At the small towns or villages he 
 passed, he always got directions as to the best course 
 to take. Sometimes he would stop when labor offered 
 to work for a week or two, to replenish his funds. 
 Sometimes he would travel a stretch by rail, again by 
 boat, little caring if it brought him out of his course ; 
 but the greater part of the trip was made on foot. 
 When he finally reached Pittsburg it was July. He 
 remained three days in that city, then resumed his 
 journey. 
 
 185
 
 PLUCK 
 
 It was near the the end of August when one even- 
 ing he stopped at a small village not far from Me- 
 dina, Ohio. The hot months had told on him and he 
 was getting tired of tramping. That same evening a 
 farmer enquired of the proprietor of the little hotel 
 where he was stopping if he knew of any hands he 
 could hire to work, as the apples were ripening fast 
 and he needed help. Phillip, overhearing the ques- 
 tion and the negative answer of the landlord, spoke 
 up : "I am willing to work for a while if you will 
 try me." 
 
 "You !" eyeing him closely, "Well, how much do 
 you want ?" 
 
 "I don't know whether I can do your work, nor 
 what my labor would be worth." 
 
 "Well, I'll try you and pay what I consider you 
 are worth. Can you come right along ?" 
 
 "Yes, on those terms for one week; then we will 
 agree on wages if we can." 
 
 "Sharp, eh ! All right, let it go at that. Get your 
 duds and we'll drive home." 
 
 *&fter a week's trial Phillip hired out to him until 
 the following spring, and got his first acquaintance 
 with farm labor and farm life. He learned much 
 which was of great value to him in after years. His 
 employer was a bright, keen Yankee, who thoroughly 
 understood his business, and Phillip was an apt schol- 
 ar. In the spring, although reluctantly, as he had 
 learned to like the family and they were loath to have 
 him go, he resumed his journey. He had concluded 
 to head for Milwaukee, where so many of his country- 
 men had gone, and then undertake to do whatever 
 
 186
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN 
 
 opportunity offered. His employer advised him to 
 go to Cleveland and there take the boat around the 
 Great Lakes to Milwaukee. This was much to our 
 friend's taste, as it was the cheapest and quickest 
 course for him. At Cleveland he found ready em- 
 ployment as deck hand, and "worked his passage" in 
 that way to Milwaukee. 
 
 In those early days farmers drove fifty and sixty 
 miles with their ox-teams through timber, over cor- 
 duroy roads and frozen swamps, to market their farm 
 products in Milwaukee, or exchange them for cloth- 
 ing and other necessaries of life. It was not difficult, 
 therefore, at the stopping places where they usually 
 put up, to gain information about the surrounding 
 country. The "prairie farmers" seemed to be the 
 most prosperous and about the only ones in need of 
 hired help. To one of these, living on what is still 
 known as "Kock Prairie," Phillip hired out. His 
 term was for one year, but he stayed nearly three, 
 and probably would not have left then had it not 
 been for the fact that in the second winter his old 
 friend Jack O'Donnell unexpectedly "dropped in." 
 
 Mrs. O'Donnell, who had been gradually failing 
 for some time, died in the late summer and left her 
 little possessions all to her grandson. Her savings 
 were much more than she had ever admitted, and the 
 shanty and small lot sold at a good price, so that the 
 total inheritance amounted to over sixteen hundred 
 dollars. Jack promptly resigned his position and 
 went to join his old friend in the West. 
 
 That winter they looked about and finally pur- 
 chased a tract of 320 acres of unimproved timber 
 
 187
 
 PLUCK 
 
 land. Phillip's savings for nearly three years and 
 Jack's whole inheritance just covered the purchase 
 price, but it left Phillip considerably in debt to Jack. 
 Next season they again worked out to get means for 
 a start. In the fall they built a log house and stable, 
 bought a yoke of oxen and started to clear their land. 
 They "batched" together, lived economically and 
 worked "like slaves." 
 
 "Jack," Phillip often said, "this land will repay 
 all our labor ; if we can pull through it will make us 
 both wealthy men in time." 
 
 "Yes, but, Phil, we'd a got there quicker if we had 
 bought prairie." 
 
 "May be," the other would answer, "but the prairie 
 is so monotonous; give me the forest with its hills 
 and valleys, and I can be happy." 
 
 And they worked and prospered. One day Phillip 
 received a letter from his sister Eda. It was full of 
 exciting news. Father and mother were well. Mr. 
 Baldwin had resigned as consul, owing to ill-health, 
 and expected to be relieved from duty soon. Then 
 they were coming to America. And Mr. Baldwin 
 had sold his house in Detroit and might locate in 
 Milwaukee, where he had a brother living. At any 
 rate, they would go there on a visit first. And then, 
 with her parents' consent, Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin had 
 formally adopted her as their daughter. The letter 
 was full of tender thoughts of the parents she must 
 leave, and a warm affectionate heart breathed from 
 every line. 
 
 Of course such news set Jack as well as Phillip 
 afire. Eagerly they discussed the subject, speculated 
 
 188
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN 
 
 on the chances, and waited impatiently for the next 
 letter. Nor was it long in coming. Three months 
 after the Baldwins arrived in Milwaukee, and Phil- 
 lip prepared to go to see his sister. Jack was bound 
 to go with him. So they arranged to have their stock 
 taken care of, and, with their bundles on their backs, 
 started out on a November morning for Milwaukee. 
 For young men like these two it was but a few days' 
 journey, and on the afternoon of the second day they 
 were only nine miles from the city. Here, however, 
 something happened to delay them. 
 
 A man was chopping cordwood near the roadway, 
 and was, just as our friends came up, lustily swing- 
 ing his ax, cutting down an old burr oak. 
 
 "Good afternoon!" Phillip cheerily called out as 
 he stopped, "about how far is it to Milwaukee ?" 
 
 The ax came down and was left to stick where it 
 struck, while the chopper turned around to face his 
 questioner with "Well, just about" and he stopped 
 and stared at the man standing before him "nine 
 miles," he finally concluded, still looking steadily at 
 Phillip. The latter was looking with like intensity 
 at the woodchopper. 
 
 "Who are you ?" came from the one. 
 
 "Phillip Bertram," was the quick response, "and 
 you are Joseph Winter!" 
 
 How joyously they first clasped hands, then fol- 
 lowing their impulses, embraced like brothers. The 
 memories of the long past childhood took possession 
 of them. "Come, come quick," Joseph almost shout- 
 ed, clutching Bertram by the arm, "Oh, how glad 
 they'll all be to see you." 
 
 189
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Our friends acompanied him to his home but a 
 short distance away. The old folks and the other 
 Winter boys, now all married and living near by, 
 were sent for. Of course, the new-comers had to 
 spend the remainder of the day and the night with 
 them ; and it was not until toward morning, when 
 much had been told and all were tired out, that they 
 retired to rest. Next day Phillip and Jack resumed 
 their journey. 
 
 As may be imagined, the young man's meeting with 
 his sister and the Baldwins was a touching one. Jack 
 stood just inside the door and for a time appeared 
 forgotten. At length, Eda noticed him standing there, 
 fumbling his hat. "Phillip, is that your friend ?" she 
 asked, and without waiting for an answer, walked up 
 to Jack, saying, "Of course, you are his good friend 
 Jack O'Donnell. I believe I would have known you 
 from my brother's description if I had met you on 
 the street. I'm so glad you came with him," and 
 feelingly she shook his hand and led him forward to 
 be introduced to her foster parents. 
 
 It was a happy few days they all spent together. 
 Eda had developed into a splendid young woman, 
 self-possessed and sensible. A sweet womanly charm, 
 like perfume the rose, seemed to envelop her. Jack 
 was "smitten" past redemption, and it was probably 
 the only time in his life when he felt the crushing 
 power of bashfulness. However, Eda, with great 
 tact, constantly came to his aid; and such is the po- 
 tency of true affection, that at the end of a week, 
 when the young men left, she needs must admit to 
 
 190
 
 IN THE WOODS OF WISCONSIN 
 
 herself that he was the nicest young man she had ever 
 met. Well, we'll see what came of it later. 
 
 That winter and next spring Phillip taught the 
 district school. His education was not great, but it 
 was more than any of his neighbors could boast ; and 
 sufficed. 
 
 Nor was the life of the young men all work and no 
 play. That would, indeed, have been unnatural. Every 
 fall came the "husking bees," where every red ear 
 meant a kiss from the girl the lucky finder liked the 
 best. Then at eleven o'clock came the lunch, to be 
 followed a little later by the dance on the barn floor, 
 where the rustic's squeeking fiddle and the "caller off" 
 held sway. There also were the winter dances at the 
 little village hall; the singing school evenings, when 
 the church choir of twenty or more rehearsed for the 
 holiday festivals ; there were also many "coon hunts" 
 when the hounds' baying made the woods re-echo 
 nearly all night ; and not to be forgotten the spelling- 
 bees at the district schoolhouses. 
 
 Did you ever attend an old-fashioned country 
 spelling-bee, kind reader? Well, if you didn't, you 
 missed one of the good things of life. Some of you, 
 no doubt, have. And don't you remember what a 
 great old time we always had ! Some of the older 
 boys would hitch to the big bob sleigh with its box 
 filled with straw and plenty of blankets. In we all 
 piled, boys and girls closely we snuggled up, to keep 
 warm, of course at the neighbors we'd stop to pick 
 up enough for a full load, and away we'd go amidst 
 shouts and song over the frosty sparkling snow, the 
 horses jingling the bells and the driver happy with 
 
 191
 
 PLUCK 
 
 his best girl at his side. Then when we got to the 
 schoolhouse, and other loads came, and the fire was 
 started, what a happy joyous crowd it would be, the 
 schoolma'am we usually had a schoolma'am just as 
 giddy as the rest of us. Then came the "spelling 
 down" where we all stood in a row and every one 
 that missed had to sit down, amidst the laughter of 
 the others. And what work some would make of the 
 spelling! Then, you know, there were always some 
 who seemed to know every word in the dictionary and 
 couldn't be spelled down , till the schoolma'am 
 "floored" them with some such jumble of consonants 
 as "Phthisic." And after we had gone through this 
 once or twice or oftener, then came the popcorn, nuts 
 and the like, and some sweet cider and sometimes 
 hard. And the ride home ! I can hear the shouting 
 yet, though it's thirty years ago since I was one of 
 them, and "Come, come away, the school bell now is 
 ringing," still echoes in memory's refrain. 
 
 Ah, those were great days ! What did we care for 
 the cold or occasional tip-over into the soft snow ? 
 
 Yes, indeed, our hero and his friend enjoyed the 
 sports of country life as much as any, and many a 
 charmer's eyes grew brighter and smile more inviting 
 when she looked upon the comely youths. 
 
 But somehow Phillip remained heart-whole. An 
 image lurked in heart and memory which made him 
 immune to Oupid's darts. A sweet little childish 
 face, with blue eyes and rosy lips, seemed to smile 
 from the stars as of a summer evening he would sit 
 dreamily resting after a hard day's labor, and hov- 
 ered about him in his dreams. How often he had 
 
 192
 
 thought of her in the years gone by ! Dear, sweet 
 little Bessie, would he ever see her again ! Was she 
 living, or had her spirit already fled to some twinkling 
 star on high ! 
 
 Often had he made inquiries about Dr. Lawrence. 
 Gone from Boston years ago, no one seemed to know 
 his whereabouts. But the memory of the child he had 
 held in his arms, with hers clasped about his neck 
 and her cheek to his, as the hour of parting came, 
 years ago in New York City, ever revived afresh with 
 each recurring awakening of spring. And as for 
 Jack, well, since Eda's image had come into his life, 
 his fate was sealed. 
 
 At the time we find our friends driving their teams 
 to the neighboring village, the election was just over. 
 After a hard fought bitter campaign, the "clown," 
 the "rail splitter," as the south then contemptuously 
 called him, the "martyr," the "immortal" Lincoln, 
 as the whole nation now calls him, had been elected 
 to the presidency. The rumbling of war could already 
 be heard, as of distant thunder, and the question of 
 war or no war was the uppermost subject of discus- 
 sion throughout the north. Northerners, familiar 
 with their latent resources, were reluctant to believe 
 in the possibility of the south attempting to secede. 
 It seemed so foolish ; and yet, as the results showed, 
 it took four years of struggle and a legion of lives to 
 conquer them. The south underestimated the latent 
 resources and stubborn persistence of the north, and 
 the north underestimated the bravery of the men they 
 were called upon to fight. 
 
 193
 
 PLUCK 
 
 The conversation between our friends ceased for a 
 time and they quietly walked on, side by side. After 
 a while Jack spoke up: "Phil, if war should come 
 what will we do ?" 
 
 "Well, Jack, let us wait till we reach the bridge 
 before we cross it ; we cannot do more than our duty, 
 and we will not do less," was the quiet response. 
 
 "True for you, old man, an' if it's fighting they 
 want we'll be in it, we will." 
 
 Presently they arrived at the village and, driving 
 through the crude sawmill on the other side, unloaded 
 their logs and drove to the little hostelry to rest and 
 feed their beasts. 
 
 194
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBERS HALL. 
 
 w 
 
 HEN the young men entered the little room 
 that served as office and bar-room, the land- 
 lord, a round-faced jovial German about 
 fifty-five years of age, emerged from an ad- 
 joining room and greeted them heartily. 
 
 "Well," he said, after shaking hands, "I am awful 
 glad to see you dis day, because, you see, dere is an 
 old couple chust come ofer from Ohermany dat is 
 shtopping here, und I don't know wat to do mit dem." 
 "Sure, why do you want to do anything with them 
 them at all?" Jack inquired, laughing. 
 
 "And didn't I tell you, dey ain't got no place to go 
 to. Dhey come ofer to find deir boy Ferdinand und 
 keep house for him, und you know he got killt a year 
 ago wen he was chopping down trees. It's too bad, 
 und so I tought but wy don't you sit down?" and 
 he quickly placed chairs for the young men at one of 
 the tables and occupied one himself. 
 
 "Katreena," he called to his wife in the adjoining 
 room, "come in und bring us some beer wile I talk 
 mit de boys about old man Bauernfeind und his 
 woman." 
 
 195
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Yes, Gottlieb," Katreena cheerily answered, as 
 she complied with the request. "May be dey can 
 help out." 
 
 "Und so I tought," the landlord resumed his con- 
 versation of before, "if you boys had room for de old 
 couple urid could keep dem, I tink dey will be well 
 wort deir keep." 
 
 "What do you think of that, Jack!" Phillip ex- 
 claimed. "Here was I wondering half the way to 
 town what to do about the farm, in case war broke 
 out, and wishing I had some one here to care for it if 
 we had to leave, and here is Gottlieb with his old 
 couple come as though snowed down from the heav- 
 ens. Of course," he continued, turning to the land- 
 lord, "we'll take care of them, and they would have 
 to have been brought up altogether differently from 
 what I believe they were if they don't earn their liv- 
 ing. Bring them in and let us get acquainted." 
 
 The landlord and his wife were overjoyed ; an act 
 of charity had been accomplished and a load taken 
 from their shoulders at the same time. The old 
 couple were brought in and proved to be still quite 
 active and of average intelligence. When the boys 
 left the village, several hours later, after the arrival 
 of the bi-weekly mail, their new housemates were 
 safely loaded on one of the sleighs, accompanied by 
 all their bags and baggage. 
 
 Phillip had received a letter from Eda, as well as 
 his weekly newspaper, the Illinois Staats Zeitung, 
 and both furnished news and subject for discussion 
 on the way home. The paper gave a clear and com- 
 prehensive statement of the political situation, while 
 
 196
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 
 Eda's letter brought the news of the feeling in Mil- 
 waukee. "Mr. Baldwin/' she wrote, "who keeps well 
 informed, says there is no doubt whatever in his mind 
 that the Southern States will attempt to secede even 
 before the inauguration, and that would surely be 
 followed by war. Oh, I hope not, because even 
 from a selfish standpoint it would be ter- 
 rible. I know you and Jack, and know that nothing 
 could keep you from joining the army. And I could 
 not even say to you 'Don't go !' ' She was a warm- 
 hearted, patriotic girl, and when Phillip finished 
 reading her letter aloud, winding up with sending 
 her love "to you and Jack," that emotional Irishman 
 was wiping his eyes with the back of his big woolen 
 mitten. 
 
 "Read that again, Phil," he finally said, but in- 
 stead, his friend handed him the letter to read as long 
 and as often as he liked. 
 
 After a time Jack said, "Say, Phil, don't you think 
 she would write to me if you asked her ?" 
 
 "Can't say, why don't you ask her yourself ?" 
 
 "Well" from Jack, and then a pause. 
 
 "Say, Phil," came a little later, "don't you think 
 Eda is an awful good girl ?" 
 
 "Sure she is," was the prompt reply ; "she's a dear, 
 good girl, with lots of good sense to boot. I'm glad 
 she is my sister." 
 
 "So am I !" came fervently from the other. 
 
 A long silence followed. At last Phillip rather 
 abruptly said to his companion, "A penny for your 
 thoughts, Jack." The latter was startled and deep 
 red suffused his bronzed face. 
 
 197
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Well, I was just thinking of telling you and ask- 
 ing your advice. I believe I am in love with Eda," 
 and he flushed still more and paused. 
 
 "Well," Phillip very dryly answered, "I don't be- 
 lieve anything about it, I know it !" 
 
 "And you would not oppose a coarse, uneducated 
 Irishman aspiring to the hand of such a sister as 
 that?" his friend asked, half anxiously, half hope- 
 fully. 
 
 "Oppose you, Jack, old boy ?" Phillip warmly an- 
 swered, throwing his right arm around the strong 
 shoulders of his friend, "Of all the men under the 
 sun that I know, there is not one whom I would sooner 
 choose as husband for my sister. Haven't I known 
 you for years; and do you suppose I haven't found 
 out what a great, rich, living kernel of manhood is 
 concealed in this rough old shell !" 
 
 Jack seized the speaker's other hand and sat silent, 
 while strong emotions surged within him. At length 
 he asked : "Phillip, and do you think she'll have me 
 I mean bye and bye, when we have our farm cleared 
 nnd a good home for her ?" 
 
 "Well, that I don't know ; but I do know Eda is a 
 true-hearted, sensible woman who will find the true 
 from the false, and if you love her you may well 
 hope." 
 
 Just then they arrived at their home, both young 
 men jumped from the sleigh, and as soon as Jack 
 struck the ground he gave a shout so tremendous that 
 it reverberated through the forest for miles around 
 them. The old people were frightened and Phillip 
 exclaimed, "What did you do that for ?" 
 
 198
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 "Well, if I hadn't I'd a-busted," was the happy re- 
 
 pty- 
 
 The old people soon became accustomed to their 
 simple duties. Bauernfeind assisted in taking care 
 of the live stock, and did the house chores, while his 
 wife proved to be a good cook, having served in the 
 family of a "Gutsbesitzer" when a young girl. Being 
 newcomers, they were able to give much later news 
 of the situation of affairs in Germany than Phillip 
 possessed, and he questioned them at great length dur- 
 ing the long winter evenings. 
 
 Mr. Baldwin had, soon after Eda's letter, sent a 
 specific request that Phillip and Jack spend the 
 Christmas holidays with his family, as he was desir- 
 ous of discussing certain phases of public affairs with 
 him, especially some relating to his countrymen ; and 
 the young men accepted. Milwaukee could now be 
 reached by railroad from a village but nine miles 
 distant from our friends' farm, but the trip was 
 roundabout and expensive. Besides, they promised 
 themselves to give Winters a call, and, therefore, pre- 
 ferred to make the trip on foot. Again, as the first 
 time, they shouldered their bundles and started out. 
 After stopping with their old friends for three days, 
 they arrived in Milwaukee toward noon, on December 
 20th, 1860. 
 
 Mr. Baldwin had purchased a commodious house on 
 Prospect Avenue, and our friends were made royally 
 welcome. The now elderly couple were taking life 
 easy, after the fashion of many others in good cir- 
 cumstances, who thought best to retire from active 
 labors. Eda was the picture of health, and her hand- 
 
 199
 
 PLUCK 
 
 some, laughing face mirrored her happy soul. Jack 
 could not keep his eyes from following her every 
 movement he was entranced, enchanted; such over- 
 mastering feelings swayed him, he wanted to shout 
 again for joy or weep for joy he couldn't tell 
 wffich he felt like flying with the clouds he could 
 whip single-handed a whole army indeed, he could- 
 n't have described just how he felt never had he ex- 
 perienced such a feeling as that one shy look and 
 faint squeeze of the hand awoke in him at the mo- 
 ment she bade him welcome. 
 
 All afternoon they sat conversing. Mr. Baldwin 
 questioned Phillip long on the general attitude and 
 sentiment among the Germans in relation to slavery 
 and secession, and the latter gave as much informa- 
 tion as his knowledge of the German character and 
 his observations enabled him. Little did they dream 
 that, at the moment they were conversing, a resolu- 
 tion of secession had already passed the general as- 
 sembly of South Carolina, and was soon to be flashed 
 over the wires to startle and alarm the north, and 
 awake the south to speedy action. 
 
 After supper Phillip and Jack took a long walk 
 about the city. Even in those days it was a thriving 
 place, and if I remember correctly, had a population 
 of about sixty thousand. There were many places 
 of amusement, and of every variety, scattered about 
 the city ; and the sound of revelry could often be dis- 
 tinctly heard through the closed doors. The snow was 
 about twelve inches deep out in the country, but here 
 it was beaten hard by the many teams and pedestrians 
 constantly passing over it. 
 
 200
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 
 After walking about for several hours, our friends 
 had bent their footsteps in the direction of Mr. Bald- 
 win's home, when, on passing what appeared to be a 
 large saloon, Jack proposed that they go in to get a 
 glass of beer before retiring for the night. Phillip 
 accepted and led the way. 
 
 As he opened the door a strange spectacle met his 
 gaze. Word had gone around, that afternoon, among 
 the factories and workshops, that a great German 
 orator would address his countrymen at Glauber's 
 Hall, on Third Street, in the evening. All were in- 
 vited and a good time promised. The orator, in fact, 
 was but an emissary from the South, of whom many 
 had been sent north to arouse opposition to the gov- 
 ernment and a sentiment favorable to the Southern 
 cause. A large crowd had responded all Germans 
 or German- Americans, and all belonging to the poorer 
 classes. They were seated around the tables drinking 
 their "shoppens" of beer and smoking strong tobacco. 
 The speaker had mounted a small platform erected at 
 the upper end of the large room, and had addressed 
 them in oily, smooth terms, seasoned with much flat- 
 tery, and calculated to put them in a susceptible 
 frame of mind. After being cheered several times 
 and awaking loud laughter at another by relating a 
 droll story, he grew bolder, and gradually and almost 
 imperceptibly began to drift into his well-prepared 
 arguments in favor of the right of secession and the 
 extension of slavery. 
 
 For some little time there had been murmurs of 
 disapproval, and the speaker would have taken warn- 
 ing but for the fact that the sound of his own voice 
 
 201
 
 PLUCK 
 
 made the rumbling inaudible to him. At the moment 
 Phillip opened the door at the other end of the room, 
 he had just reached his climax, and also, as the result 
 showed, the height of audacity, in that audience. In 
 thundering voice he proclaimed the right of secession 
 and the right to hold the "black dogs" as slaves. 
 
 This was more than his hearers would bear. 
 "Never !" came from a hoarse throat on the left. "By 
 hell, no !" shouted a brawny blacksmith on the right, 
 springing to his feet. "Put him out," "Kill the dog," 
 "Nieder mit dim," came from all parts of the room, 
 and a dozen jumped from their seats to seize the of- 
 fender. 
 
 Phillip saw the aroused condition of his country- 
 men and knew that prompt action alone might save 
 them from going too far. Quick as thought he started 
 to the front, with ready force pushing aside those im- 
 peding his way, and, ere the foremost had reached 
 the speaker, he stood at his side and, with his right 
 hand outstretched, shouted "Halt, Landsleute!" 
 
 What was it! Was it the voice of the speaker 
 the suddenness and daring of the act ; was it the steely 
 glitter of the eye or the force of determination por- 
 trayed by face and bearing; or was it the combined 
 effect of the whole: The crowd stopped, all sound 
 ceased instantly, and every eye was fixed with both 
 astonishment and admiration upon the courageous 
 young man. "Who is he ?" was the mental question 
 of each ; "He is a German, because he speaks our lan- 
 guage; he is not rich, because his clothes are coarse 
 and plain like ours." But already his voice could 
 he heard again. Warm, clear, deliberate and incisive 
 
 202
 
 Halt, Landsleute !' "
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 
 came his words, and a trace of disdain could be felt 
 ringing in them : 
 
 "Would you soil your hands on the skunk because 
 he has insulted your honor ? Such as he can neither 
 traduce German character nor inocculate moral poison 
 into German blood. Let him speak, and, if need be, 
 I will answer him"; then, turning to the speaker, 
 who stood pale and cowering at his side, he added, 
 "Proceed, sir, finish your speech, but I warn you that 
 liberty of speech and license of speech are two dis- 
 tinctly different things, and that my countrymen will 
 never be traitors !" 
 
 But the orator had had enough. He realized that 
 he had escaped a most dangerous situation which his 
 own rashness had provoked; so that, stammering a 
 few excuses to the effect that he had not really meant 
 that they should go against their government, and the 
 like, he took advantage of the proprietor's protecting 
 lead and escaped through the side door. 
 
 Phillip had hardly moved his position. With lips 
 firmly compressed and scorn and contempt in his 
 looks, he had listened to the speaker's but half coher- 
 ent excuses. But, as the last trace of the fellow dis- 
 appeared, he slowly turned and faced the eyes of all 
 bent on him with varied expressions. And, as he 
 looked at the swarthy, honest faces of these sons of 
 toil that had just spurned treason, a happy smile il- 
 lumined his features. 
 
 Presently some one muttered, "Answer." It was 
 quickly taken up by others, until lusty and loud came 
 the call for Phillip to "Answer" the previous speak- 
 
 203
 
 PLUCK 
 
 er's arguments. He waved them to silence, then 
 again, as before, he addressed them in German. 
 
 "Answer him ?" "Aye, I could do so fully, abso- 
 lutely, and to you convincingly, in just three words : 
 'Ihr seid Deutsche !' ' ' He paused, that his meaning 
 might percolate into their minds. Then, as if to as- 
 sist them, or in explanation, he continued : "Treason, 
 rebellion, revolution against a just government is a 
 plant that has never grown on German soil! Love 
 of country, loyalty to government, obedience to its 
 authority are the only blossoms the German heart 
 cherishes, and they are the blossoms of a plant spring- 
 ing from the seed of God's Fourth Commandment: 
 'Honor thy father and thy mother, that it may go 
 well with thee and thy days be long upon earth.' 
 
 "For generations obedience has been the clarifying 
 fire that has made the Teuton the peer of any of 
 God's creatures, able to conquer himself and command 
 others. Obedience to the parent, to the just authority 
 of the government, next to obedience to the One on 
 High, has been the strengthening tonic of the moral 
 man. It flows in the German's veins by inheritance, 
 he absorbs it in his mother's milk, it is the food of his 
 youth, and manhood, and old age. It fosters patriot- 
 ism in his heart, it brings to him strength and self-re- 
 liance." 
 
 The longer he spoke, the slower and more impres- 
 sive became his words. A dead silence reigned, every 
 eye was fixed on the speaker, and the breath of the lis- 
 teners came bated and repressed. 
 
 "For many generations has the German fought ter- 
 rific struggles, and the most terrible were those that 
 
 204
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 
 appeared little upon the surface. His character has 
 become set and firm, his force tremendous ! His next 
 war will prove it; with irresistible strength and un- 
 questioning obedience to his leaders, he will simply 
 seize victory, and will add such lustre to his name, the 
 world o'er, that instead of 'Dutchman' being applied 
 to him in contempt, it will be looked upon forever 
 after as a badge of honor." 
 
 How their eyes sparkled and their bosoms thrilled 
 as they heard these prophetic words ; and it was only 
 eleven years later that the German nation won such 
 remarkable victories over the French, and gained its 
 splendid recognition and standing in the world. 
 
 "Are you answered ? Do you know now why seces- 
 sion, why rebellion is wrong ?" he suddenly asked in 
 clarion tones. "Your heart, your blood cries back the 
 answer ! If war should come, which may God forbid, 
 do you know where you will stand for the Union, or 
 against it for your new Heimath or against her? 
 Again let your heart and blood answer while you sing 
 with me a little song." 
 
 Up to now the silence had remained unbroken ; the 
 audience was spellbound; each seemed to hear drop 
 from the speaker's lips the very words which echoed 
 his own thoughts. As now he ceased speaking the 
 intense fire of his aroused soul burning into their own, 
 his magnificent form erect, his whole presence com- 
 manding, compelling admiration and began in a 
 strong, rich baritone to sing that song which above all 
 others stirs the latent fires of patriotism in the Ger- 
 man's heart : 
 
 205
 
 PLUCK 
 
 
 "Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall, 
 
 Wie Schwert Geklirr und Wogenprall," 
 
 he got as far as the chorus of the first stanza before 
 the audience awoke sufficiently to become capable of 
 joining in the song; but when they finally did, and 
 when the spell was fully broken, it seemed as though 
 ten thousand lusty throats vere vying to outdo each 
 other, so great was the desire to give relief to the pent 
 up feelings. One fellow accidentally poked his elbow 
 through a window, and it was afterward generally 
 claimed and believed, that it was caused by the awful 
 shouts of hurrah that arose, when, after the last verse 
 had been sung, the big blacksmith mounted a table, 
 and, swinging his hat, shouted, "Wir sind fuer Frei- 
 heit und Union!" (We are for Freedom and the 
 Union ! ) "Hip, hip, hurrah h h !" 
 
 While the blacksmith was leading the hurrahs, 
 Phillip had opportunity to slip out through the side 
 door, where Jack, who had been an amazed spectator 
 of the whole brief occurrence, joined him as soon as 
 he found his friend had left the place. 
 
 "Phil," he said, as they hurried along, "I never 
 heard a better speech in my life ! What did you say 
 to them, anyway ?" 
 
 "I can't tell you now, but I fear it was enough to 
 make several more widows than there might have 
 been, in case we should have war," Phillip answered 
 soberly. 
 
 The noise of the singing and shouting in the hall 
 had penetrated to the outside and must have been 
 heard, like the rumbling of thunder, several blocks 
 
 206
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S HALL 
 
 away. Our friends met a policeman running to inves- 
 tigate the disturbance, and two reporters for the daily 
 papers followed closely at his heels. They paid no at- 
 tention, however, and proceeded swiftly on their way. 
 
 Next morning, while the family were seated at the 
 breakfast table, a newsboy brought the Morning Sen- 
 tinel. Mr. Baldwin adjusted his glasses to glance 
 at the headlines. 
 
 "What's this !" he exclaimed, as he caught sight of 
 the extra large display type at the head of the first 
 column, " 'SOUTH CAROLINA HAS SECEDED 
 FROM THE UNION. Ordinance of secession 
 passed by its legislature. Other states expected soon 
 to follow!' There, it has come; I knew it, I knew it, 
 and war will follow also." Then, as he caught sight 
 of another headline, "And here, 'THE GERMANS 
 ARE LOYAL. Remarkable scene at Glaubers Hall 
 last night!' ' Phillip touched Jack's elbow to enjoin 
 his silence. "Of course they are loyal, who ever 
 doubted it !" Mr. Baldwin interrupted himself ; 
 then a moment later, "but really this must have been 
 something unusual, listen : 'A most remarkable scene 
 was enacted at Glauber's Hall last night. While one 
 of these southern emissaries, who are everywhere at- 
 tempting to dissuade our citizens from loyalty to the 
 Union, was addressing a large body of German labor- 
 ers, and had aroused their ire by his seditious har- 
 angue to the point where a dozen hands were out- 
 stretched to seize him and throw him from the hall, 
 a young man, stranger to them all, suddenly forced his 
 way to the side of the speaker and with one word 
 stopped the uproar, enabled the speaker to escape, and 
 
 207
 
 PLUCK 
 
 then addressed a few words to the audience that held 
 them, spellbound until he started them to sing the 
 'Wacht am Rhein.' He is described as about twenty- 
 six years of age, strong, athletic of build, with eyes 
 and voice of extraordinary power and penetration; 
 and it was not alone what he said, because few could 
 give a coherent statement of it, but the absolute con- 
 viction of their truth which his words compelled, and 
 his unaccountable personal influence which stirred his 
 hearers to unfathorned depths. The pent up feelings 
 found relief in the song, and in the tremendous hur- 
 rahs which John Maurer, the big blacksmith, evoked 
 when he jumped on the table and shouted, 'We are all 
 for Liberty and the Union.' During the hurrahing 
 the young man disappeared, and we regret that his 
 name could not be learned. The reporters arrived 
 in time to hear the shouting, which, in fact, could be 
 easily heard several blocks away ; but too late to get 
 sight of the stranger. If this is a fair sample of our 
 foreign born elements, we can rest assured that if 
 war comes it will find us a united North !" 
 
 As he concluded reading, Mr. Baldwin cast a sharp, 
 quick glance at Phillip ; but seeing no sign of dis- 
 turbance on his face, as his guest sat quietly sipping 
 his coffee, he made no further inquiries at the time. 
 The conversation then drifted to the subject of the 
 secession of South Carolina, and more or less gloom 
 rested on them all during the remainder of the meal. 
 
 After breakfast Mr. Baldwin called Phillip to the 
 library and questioned him in relation to the occur- 
 rence at Glauber's Hall. Of course, the latter freely 
 admitted his part of the performance, but insisted 
 
 208
 
 THE MASS MEETING IN GLAUBER'S TTATJ. 
 
 that the matter was greatly exaggerated except the 
 hearty loyalty of the crowd and requested that he 
 might be saved the notoriety which the disclosure of 
 his name would bring. 
 
 Mr. Baldwin then consulted him as to the timber- 
 lands in his section of the state, as he desired to buy 
 some for an investment ; and it was arranged that, on 
 his return home, Phillip would ascertain the best bar- 
 gains in his vicinity. The following summer he 
 would personally inspect the land and, if suited, 
 would purchase. 
 
 Our friends extended their visit until shortly after 
 New Year and then reluctantly returned to their 
 home. 
 
 209
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN EXPERT WITNESS. 
 
 | HEY arrived at their neighboring village 
 in the afternoon of the second day, very 
 tired from their long tramp through 
 the deep, soft snow, and concluded to 
 rest for an hour at Gottlieb Brauer's. The old fellow 
 greeted them heartily and served up the best he had. 
 Old man Bauernfeind had been to town the day before 
 and reported everything safe at home, so that our 
 friends felt relieved on that score and were in no 
 hurry. 
 
 After a little while Ebenezer Newton, the Justice 
 of the Peace, and proprietor of the only "store" in 
 the village, dropped in. He was a typical "York- 
 Stater," who had settled there some ten years before, 
 and had done well. He was tall and lean, with a 
 tuft of gray whiskers on his chin and a good-natured 
 twinkle in his eye ; he was shrewd, but honest always, 
 and had won the confidence of the hundreds of Ger- 
 mans who settled in and about the village. After 
 shaking hands he sat down at the table near our 
 friends and the landlord, and commenced to question 
 the former about the news from Milwaukee. When 
 
 210
 
 AN EXPERT WITNESS 
 
 the subject was temporarily exhausted, Phillip asked 
 what the news at home was. 
 
 "Oh, not much," Ebenezer replied, "the parson 
 preached a powerful sermon on New Year's day about 
 the duty of patriots, and Bill Denton and Frank 
 Peters had a fight" 
 
 "Yes," quickly broke in Gottlieb, "und Shquire 
 Newton he wiolated the Constitution of de United 
 Shtates !" and a broad grin covered his whole face. 
 
 Without giving the squire a chance to make denial, 
 he continued: "You know Denton und Peters, dey 
 was always great frients; well, before Gristmas dey 
 got to quarreling about deir oxen; Bill claimed he 
 had de best und Frank he claimed he had, so to settle 
 de ting dey agreed dat Bill should get hiss oxen und 
 hitch onto de load of logs wat Frank had left at de 
 mill de day before because dare was no room to drive 
 up to de blace ware to unload dat day, und Frank he 
 allowed dat if Bill's oxen could haul dat load out of 
 de deep shnow it had shnowed und drifted a good 
 deal since de day before den Bill's team was de 
 best. Well, Bill went und got his oxens, und Frank 
 went und shlipped a chain around one runner and 
 shpiked de ends to de shlabs so dat ten yokes of oxens 
 couldn't move it, und covered it all mit shnow. Dare 
 was a whole crowd round, but nobody give it away. 
 So Bill he come back mit his oxen, und he 'lowed it 
 was pretty hard pulling dat load out of so much 
 shnow, but hiss oxens could do it. He hitched dem 
 up and shouted, 'Go lang Shpot gee ! gee ! Brindle 
 wo hah dare go lang dare!' und he tried de 
 wip, but de oxen couldn't move it more dan a few
 
 PLUCK 
 
 inches; und Bill he was getting red in de face und 
 mad at de oxens. Pretty soon de crowd couldn't hold 
 back any longer und shouted mit laughter. Den Bill 
 was mad, but they laughed so hard he began to sush- 
 pect some tricks. So he went round de load und 
 kicked de shnow away den all to oncet he saw de 
 chain, und, mitout a wort, he went up to ware Frank 
 was shtanding laughing, und hit him shtraight in de 
 face. Den Frank had Bill arrested und Bill called 
 for a churey trial. Well, de new schoolteacher, he 
 defended Bill, und de conshtable, he was de prose- 
 cuting lawyer. Dey tried de case in de back end of 
 de shtore for a wile, but he shtore was coldern'n a 
 barn, so dey adjourned to de shquire's parlor. De 
 shquire sat at de center of de table, und Bill und 
 Frank were near de opposite ends mit deir homemade 
 lawyers. Bill, he told hiss shtory und Frank kept 
 saying every little wile, 'Dat ain't so,' 'Don't you 
 beliefe dat, shquire,' until Bill got made und wanted 
 to lick him, und de shquire rapped for order. Den 
 de lamp was brought in because it was gittin' dark." 
 
 "But, say, ain't you gittin' dry, I am ?" and with- 
 out waiting for an answer Gottlieb got up and re- 
 filled the glasses then continued : 
 
 "Pretty soon it was Frank's turn to tell hiss side, 
 und de shquire had a hard time to keep order. All 
 to oncet Bill says, says Bill : 'You're a liar und I can 
 lick you,' und bodh jumped up und at it dey went, 
 de schoolmaster pulling back on de one und de con- 
 shtable on de odher, wile de chairs tumbled in eWery 
 direction. The shquire, he grabbed de lamp und hiss 
 papers und yelled, 'Let dem fight it ouet, let dem 
 
 212
 
 AN EXPERT WITNESS 
 
 fight it ouet !' Cliust den Bill got Frank down und 
 den deir two lawyers pulled Bill off und kept dem 
 apart.' 
 
 "Den de shquire came back to de table, set down 
 de lamp, fixed his glasses shtraight on his big nose, 
 uud looked at de time. 'Chentlemen of de churey,' 
 he say to dem solemnly, 'de dignity of dis court has 
 been outraged ! You are discharged from de furdher 
 consideration of dis case; I will decide it myself!' 
 Den, turning to de defendant, he said, 'You got licked, 
 sir, und you ought to got licked because you are 
 guilty ! I find you One Dollar und Costs. It is sup- 
 per time now und you can go home, but to-morrow 
 you come und pay up. De Court is adjourned.' ' 
 
 Old Gottlieb related this amidst much merriment, 
 nor would be permit the squire to interrupt him. 
 
 "Well," said Phillip, with mock gravity, when the 
 landlord had concluded, "I see your point: The 
 squire's action was certainly high handed, because 
 right of trial by jury cannot lawfully be denied us ; 
 but did Frank pay up next day ?" 
 
 "Yes," smiled the squire, "he came in and apolo- 
 gized and I remitted the fine." 
 
 "Well, that settles it ! But say, squire, did I ever 
 tell you about Gottlieb's testimony as an expert wit- 
 ness over at Fort Akron last summer, while you were 
 east ?" 
 
 "Now look here, Phil, don't give de shquire an- 
 odher one on me, or I can't get efen at all." 
 
 "Let's hear it," the other urged, and Phillip be- 
 gan: 
 
 213
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Last year, while you were visiting in the east, we 
 had a regular temperance wave sweep over this 
 county. There were lecturers here from another state, 
 and great virtuous sentiment aroused. Complaint 
 was made for the least violation of the excise laws 
 and many arrests followed. At Fork Akron the tee- 
 totalers were in the majority and the village board 
 granted no license; while at Jauer, where the Ger- 
 mans largely predominate, all got licenses who ap- 
 plied. 
 
 "Well, the wave of reform struck Jauer, also, but it 
 was impossible to convict there; no matter what the 
 testimony, the jury's verdict was sure to be "not 
 guilty." Then they tried a different course ; warrants 
 were sworn out before a justice at Fort Akron, and a 
 number of convictions followed. One of the last to 
 be arrested before the reform wave subsided was 
 Gottlieb's old friend, Adam Geiger, on complaint of 
 selling intoxicating drink to a minor. Old Billy 
 Rooney, you know him, a fine old lawyer, was still 
 district attorney and his heart was not wholly with 
 these prosecutions; but he did his duty. Rooney 
 knew he could prove the sale of lager beer to the 
 minor, and he got it into his head that his friend, 
 old Gottlieb here, who everybody knows has the big- 
 gest experience with drinking beer of any of them, 
 had best be subpoenaed as a witness for the state, to 
 prove, what Rooney supposed everybody knew to be 
 the fact, that lager beer was intoxicating. 
 
 "Old Adam got young Dan Weymer to defend him. 
 
 "Well, when the trial came, the state proved beyond 
 question that the defendant had sold lager beer to the 
 
 214
 
 AN EXPERT WITNESS 
 
 minor, and it only remained to prove that it is intox- 
 icating to secure a conviction. So Mr. Rooney called 
 Gottlieb to the stand and had him sworn. 
 
 'What is your name ?' asked Rooney. 
 
 'You know dat well enough, wat for you ask ?' re- 
 torted the witness. 
 
 'Of course I do, Gottlieb,' the other answered 
 soothingly, 'but you know in court we must tell every- 
 thinng, so that the judge may know, too. Your name 
 is Gottlieb Brauer, isn't it ?' 
 
 'I guess so,' smiled Gottlieb. 
 
 'Your Honor, I object, that is a leading question' 
 came from the defendant's attorney." 
 
 "The Court" : 'You must not ask leading questions, 
 Mr. District Attorney.' 
 
 "Mr. Rooney, to witness" : 'Where do you live ?' 
 
 "Gottlieb" : 'Don't chu know ? How did you find 
 me?' 
 
 'Yes, yes, but just answer, Gottlieb, as though I 
 didn't know anything.' 
 
 'Guess dat's true, "was the quick reply, while the 
 jury laughed, and the justice called for order." 
 
 'Now then, Gottlieb,' "Mr. Rooney proceeded, 
 joining in the laugh at his expense," 'we understand 
 each other. How old are you ?' 
 
 'Pretty near fifty-sefen.' 
 
 'Where were you born ?' 
 
 'In Chermany, of course !' 
 
 'How long have you lived in this country ?' 
 
 'Well, let me see, we landed in '42.' 
 
 'And you lived here ever since ?' 
 
 'In Wisconsin ? No, if I lif here since '45.' 
 
 215
 
 PLUCK 
 
 'What is your business ?' 
 
 'Don't chu know ?' 
 
 'Now, Gottlieb, go right on and answer my ques- 
 tions.' 
 
 'Well, I run a hotel und keep a saloon.' 
 
 'Where ?' 
 
 'Over in Cheffers.' 
 
 'How long have you been in the saloon business ?' 
 
 'Chust twelf years last May.' 
 
 'What do you sell in your saloon ?' 
 
 'Oh' "smiling" 'pop, soda water, tzigars, und 
 so.' 
 
 'Don't you sell whisky ?' 
 
 'Yes.' " 
 
 'And wine ?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'And lager beer ?' 
 
 'Oh, yes.' 
 
 'How long have you sold lager beer ?' 
 
 'All my life pretty near.' 
 
 'You mean as long as you have been in the saloon 
 business ?' 
 
 'No, wen I was in Chermany yet I helpt my f adher 
 who had a Gasthaus.' 
 
 'You drink beer yourself, don't yon ?' 
 
 'Yes, sir !' 
 
 'How long have you drank beer ?' 
 
 'All my life.' 
 
 'How often do you drink it ?' 
 
 'Efery day.' 
 
 'How much do you drink a day ?' 
 
 'Oh, I don't know nefer kept drack.' 
 
 216
 
 AN EXPERT WITNESS 
 
 'Well, about how much ?' 
 
 'Dat depends on de drade. Wen de drade is poor 
 I don't take only a little.' 
 
 'Well, how much do you take when it is poor, and 
 how much when it is good ?' 
 
 'Oh, wen dare ain't much doin' I takes maybe 
 dwenty maybe less, maybe more.' 
 
 'And when the trade is good ?' 
 
 'Well, maybe forty or fifty maybe it's more 
 you see I don't drink dem great bigg schooners.' 
 
 'But' and Phillip turned to Gottlieb, who sat 
 quietly tipped back in his chair, a comical grin on his 
 face "that last was not quite true, was it Gottlieb ?" 
 
 "Well, I meant not all de time," was the easy re- 
 joinder. 
 
 "Well, to proceed. Mr. Rooney looked pleased and 
 the jury smiled. Here was a witness who knew all 
 about beer, sure !" 
 
 'Now, Gottlieb, tell this jury whether lager beer 
 is intoxicating or not.' 
 
 'No, sir!' 
 
 'Eh ? I asked you whether from your experience 
 lager beer was intoxicating would make a man 
 drunk?' 
 
 'No, sir!' "again came the answer, prompt and 
 certain." 
 
 'Mr. Brauer,' "says Rooney, slowly and impres- 
 sively," 'you have stated that you drink sometimes 
 forty or fifty glasses a day' 
 
 'Yes, sir, I tink I have drinked as much as double 
 dat,' "the witness interrupted proudly." 
 
 217
 
 PLUCK 
 
 'Forty or fifty glasses a day and sometimes double 
 that, and do you say it never made you drunk ?' 
 
 'No, sir, neffer!' 
 
 "The justice glared at the witness over his specta- 
 cles; the jury was amazed; and Mr. Rooney dumb- 
 founded. Then he gathered himself for a final as- 
 sault to save his case. Slowly he raised his long fin- 
 ger, and pointing it at the witness, close to his face, 
 he very solemnly and impressively asked" : 
 
 'Mr. Gottlieb Brauer, do you mean to tell this jury 
 under oath, that lager beer is not intoxicating that 
 one cannot get drunk on it ?' 
 
 Gottlieb scratched his head, turned toward the jury 
 and rather irritably said, 'Well, maybe iff a man 
 make a hogg of himself.' 
 
 Squire Newton roared and asked Gottlieb how 
 many beers a man could take a day without "making 
 a hog of himself." 
 
 But the landlord wouldn't answer ; he got up good- 
 naturedly, saying, "I suppose I'll nefer hear the last 
 of dat now you got hold of it," and proceeded to take 
 another "snitt." 
 
 218
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JACK MAKES A TKADE. 
 
 O 
 
 |UR friends worked hard the remainder 
 of the winter; they enlarged their clear- 
 ing, hauled logs to the mill to be cut 
 into lumber, and prepared to build a 
 larger house in the spring. The old log dwelling 
 would do as store room for the many appliances 
 which accumulate on a farm, and a part of it could 
 be used for a hen house. An addition to the log 
 stable was also completed before spring. Twice a 
 week they received news from the outside world and 
 were thus kept informed of political events. Lincoln 
 had been inaugurated, and many of the southern 
 states had seceded, when finally spring arrived. All 
 news reached them somewhat delayed, and they heard 
 of President Lincoln's call for 75,000 volunteers at 
 the same time they learned of the first shot fired on 
 Fort Sumter. 
 
 "Shall we enlist ?" Jack at once asked. But Phillip 
 shook his head: "Not yet, and never, unless we are 
 needed." But the next Sunday, after church services, 
 a mass meeting was held at the little village, and 
 many announced their readiness to volunteer. !No 
 action was taken, however, for want of a leader. 
 
 219
 
 PLUCK 
 
 The next important news came a few days 
 later, and was to the effect that nearly 300,000 
 had responded to the president's call for 
 75,000, and a wave of enthusiasm swept the 
 community. Soon came news of the seizure by 
 many of the southern states of the government ar- 
 senals, mints, custom houses, etc., within their bor- 
 ders, and finally the news of small battles at Big 
 Bethel, Booneville, Carthage, and other places. 
 
 All doubt had vanished it meant war! Phillip 
 delivered a patriotic address and asked that all single 
 men be organized into a company and drilled by one 
 of the many German veterans among them. An old 
 sergeant was found, familiar with military tactics, 
 who was willing to undertake it. Forty-seven able- 
 bodied young men enrolled. In spite of all resist- 
 ance Phillip was chosen captain and Jack sergeant. 
 Evening after evening they met on the village green 
 and drilled during that spring and early summer, to 
 be ready when duty called. 
 
 During the same period they dug their cellar, 
 hauled stones and sand, built the foundation walls 
 with the aid of old man Bauernfeind, who had some 
 experience as a stone mason in Germany ; and finally 
 erected a neat and roomy frame house. There are 
 always some men skilled in carpenter work in every 
 such community, and neighbors help each other; so 
 that when completed our friends could rejoice at the 
 small outlay in cash which it had cost them. 
 
 Mr. Baldwin was expected to come soon, and he had 
 arranged to bring his wife and Eda with him to 
 Jack's intense delight. The young men were to meet 
 
 320
 
 JACK MAKES A TRADE 
 
 them at the nearest railway station, about nine miles 
 away. 
 
 One day, while they were putting a coat of cheap 
 paint on the house, Jack suggested that if they only 
 had a team of horses and a light spring wagon it 
 would be so much nicer to bring their friends home 
 with than a yoke of oxen and a heavy wagon. He 
 knew of a second-hand wagon that would do nicely if 
 it was fixed up a little, and Old Slater had just 
 broken in his colts that winter and might be induced 
 to trade his old span of horses for some cows, or some- 
 thing else. Jack had evidently thought considerable 
 on the subject I'll leave the reader to guess the 
 cause. 
 
 "Well," Phillip said, "I don't know but what you 
 are right. How much will the spring wagon cost?" 
 
 "Probably twenty dollars, and three or four more 
 for paint." 
 
 "All right, we are nearly through painting and you 
 can finish alone while I go over and have a talk with 
 Mr. Slater." 
 
 "No, no, Phil, let me go what do you know of a 
 horse trade, or of a horse, anyhow ?" Jack eagerly ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Not much, I confess, though I have handled some 
 in Ohio." 
 
 "Well, let me go anyway, I've driven lots of horses 
 in New York when I was on the force." 
 
 "Undoubtedly, and stopped a runaway team now 
 and then ; but you know about as much of a horse's 
 faults and qualities as Gottlieb Brauer knows of 
 music. But then go ahead and try your luck, and 
 
 221
 
 PLUCK 
 
 don't forget that you are dealing with a shrewd Yan- 
 kee." So saying Phillip resumed painting, and Jack 
 started off to Slater's. 
 
 When Phillip had finished painting he found 
 he had time to go to town before supper, to get the 
 mail. So he changed his clothes, as was his habit, 
 and started. On his return, two hours later, he found 
 Jack awaiting him, his face wreathed in smiles. 
 
 "Well, I got them," he shouted gleefully as soon 
 as Phillip was within hearing distance. "And they're 
 all right, too, sound as a silver dollar !" 
 
 "So-o," Phillip rejoined as he came up. "I'm glad 
 of it. What did you put up for them ?" 
 
 "Ha, ha," laughed Jack, "that's the best of the 
 whole deal ; he wanted a hundred and fifty dollars for 
 the team and I finally traded him the yoke of steers 
 we broke last winter and the old brindle cow that 
 kicks so." 
 
 "Did you tell him she kicks ?" 
 
 "Did I tell him she kicks? Hear the innocent! 
 No, you bet I didn't; we don't tell such things in 
 horse trading. He asked whether she was gentle and 
 I told him anybody almost could milk her. And so 
 they can, ha, ha but that is as close as anybody but 
 old Bauernfeind can get to it 'almost,' yes, that's 
 it." And Jack laughed loud as his imagination pic- 
 tured to him old Slater's troubles when he would try 
 to milk her. 
 
 "Jack, I don't like that a bit ; it isn't honest, horse 
 trade or no horse trade. If those horses are worth 
 what the old gentleman asked for them you beat him
 
 JACK MAKES A TRADE 
 
 shamefully and ought to make it right. Where did 
 you put them ?" 
 
 "Over in the new stable, and they are as gentle as 
 lambs." 
 
 Phillip started to inspect the new acquisitions ; but 
 the moment he clapped eyes on them he emitted a 
 long-drawn low whistle and suppressed a smile. 
 
 "That is a fine team," he said dryly; "did Slater 
 say how old they were ?" 
 
 "Well, the bay is some over seven and the black, I 
 think, a little older," answered Jack, unconsciously 
 quoting Slater. 
 
 "H'm ! Look at these teeth ; did you examine them 
 before you made the bargain ? No ?" 
 
 "Yes," he continued as he looked the black also 
 in the mouth, "that's true as gospel, 'the bay is some 
 past seven and the black a little older.' These gray 
 hair in the mane will need dyeing some, I fear," he 
 added, musingly. "Rather in poor flesh, too look as 
 though they had just come out of a cooper shop." 
 
 "Well, the old man was short on grain, but a little 
 extra feeding will put them in fine trim," Jack inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 By this time Phillip was examining the horses' 
 legs. "Hello, what are these bunches ?" 
 
 "Oh, that's where the colts kicked them last winter 
 when they were all out in the yard together." 
 
 "Strange, strange, what curious things do happen ; 
 both horses kicked on both legs and almost on the 
 same spots if you hadn't told me how it happened 
 I should have called them wind galls," Phillip re- 
 joined without the trace of a smile. "And these lit- 
 
 223
 
 PLUCK 
 
 tie elevations here near the knee yes, the bay has 
 got them, too I wonder what they mean ?" he asked, 
 with grave innocence. 
 
 "Well, sure enough I hadn't seen that, but I guess 
 it'll go away with good feeding ; you see they are run 
 down by poor feeding." 
 
 "I suppose you are right -I was afraid they might 
 be spavins. How are they on the wind ?" 
 
 "All right, I guess they puffed a little when I 
 brought them home, 'cause I walked them pretty fast, 
 as I was afraid the old man might change his mind." 
 
 "Well, let's find out what treasures we really have 
 got. You lead one and I'll take the other and we'll 
 trot them around the yard for a few minutes." 
 
 Jack, still unsuspicious, did as requested and for 
 about two minutes they led them on a brisk trot 
 around the large yard. When they were again in 
 the stalls both horses puffed like steam engines and 
 their flanks undulated like a billowy sea. 
 
 "They do seem to breathe hard but Slater said 
 they always did that when he fed them on dusty hay," 
 Jack remarked. 
 
 "You don't think they've got the heaves ?" Phillip 
 queried, with assumed anxiety. 
 
 "Heaves! I should think not," Jack answered, 
 convincingly. He didn't care to admit his ignorance 
 of the meaning of the term. 
 
 Phillip was again examining the leg of one of the 
 horses: "Well, this might have been a ring bone at 
 some time" 
 
 224
 
 You. don't think thev've got the heaves?'
 
 JACK MAKES A TRADE 
 
 "Oh, no," Jack interrupted ; "Old Slater said such 
 a mark sometimes comes from getting caught in a 
 rope that might rub the hair off." 
 
 Finally Phillip closed his examination and together 
 they started for the house. On the way Jack anxious- 
 ly asked whether Phillip still insisted on his giving 
 Slater another cow for the one that kicked. "Oh, 
 no, I think he'll be satisfied in time," the latter re- 
 joined, as he turned away to conceal a smile. 
 
 Next day Jack bought the spring wagon and re- 
 paired and painted it, and on the following Sunday 
 afternoon he prepared to drive to town in style. 
 Phillip excused himself with having letters to write, 
 and anxiously awaited the result. 
 
 About one o'clock he saw the team slowly coming 
 back, but Jack was not driving it ; it was the village 
 constable who occupied the seat. 
 
 "Hello, what's up ; where's Jack ?" he cried, as the 
 latter drove up. 
 
 "In the lockup," was the laconic reply ; "better get 
 in and we'll drive back and bail him out." 
 
 "Bail him out I will, but we'll walk." 
 
 "Might as well we'll get there quicker," the other 
 replied. 
 
 So they unhitched, put up the horses and started 
 for the village. On the way the constable related 
 that when Jack drove into town he drove up the front 
 street, looking as proud as a peacok. When he got 
 near the tavern, where a lot of the boys were waiting 
 for church time, he stopped. 
 
 "Hello, Jack," one of them shouted, "wher'd you 
 get them cripples ?" 
 
 225
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Cripples, you call them ?" Jack flashed back, hot 
 in an instant, as he jumped out to tie up, "I want you 
 to understand they cost more than all you own in the 
 world." 
 
 "What did you give for them ?" another asked. 
 
 "I traded a yoke of two-year-olds and a fine cow 
 for them, and they're dirt cheap at that." 
 
 The crowd shouted, and Jack kept getting more 
 and more angry, until finally he yelled at them to 
 know the reason of their laughter. 
 
 "Bill Denton, who is always putting his foot in 
 it, spoke up: 'Oh, we are all so tickled that we got 
 such a good horseman among us, haw, haw, haw ! 
 We, us fellows, who don't know anything about horses, 
 we'd a thought them the most ancient, heavy, ring- 
 boned, spavined, wind galled carcasses ever deliv- 
 ered to a glue fac ,' but, before he had time to finish 
 the word, Jack went for him like lightning and in 
 less time than it takes to tell it he had knocked Bill 
 insensible. I got there just in time to see the finish," 
 the constable concluded his statement, "and so I ar- 
 rested him. I'd a come to get you sooner, but we had 
 a hard job to bring Bill to." 
 
 When they reached the village they first went to see 
 Denton, who had by that time fully recovered, and 
 was little the worse for his thrashing, except that he 
 had a badly swollen face. He admitted that he 
 merited the chastisement and was not at all anxious 
 to have Jack punished. Together they proceeded to 
 the lockup, where they found Jack crestfallen. Be- 
 fore any of the visitors had time to say a word, he 
 addressed Denton with, "Bill, I want to beg your par- 
 
 226
 
 JACK MAKES A TRADE 
 
 don I'm ashamed of myself." Denton at once ex- 
 tended his hand, saying, "Shake, old fellow, 'nough 
 said ; I was to blame." 
 
 No complaint being lodged, Jack was released and 
 went home with Phillip. As soon as they were out 
 of town, he stopped and looked at the latter for a 
 moment, then continuing walking said, "Phillip, why 
 didn't you tell me of the condition of those horses 
 when I brought them home ?" 
 
 "I'll tell you, Jack; it was for several reasons: 
 First, it was too late, as Old Slater would never have 
 taken them back ; second, you wanted to beat the old 
 man in the trade by putting a worthless cow on him, 
 or you wouldn't have been so anxious not to let me 
 go instead of yourself, which made the result but just 
 retribution ; and, third, it is always a wholesome les- 
 son to get the conceit knocked out of us a little." 
 
 Jack was silent for a long time, pondering over his 
 friend's words; but, when they arrived at the gate, 
 he said emphatically : "Phil, I'll never try to beat a 
 man again as long as I live, nor I ain't going to let 
 one beat me again, neither !" 
 
 July was drawing nearer and our young friends 
 were impatiently awaiting the day fixed for the ar- 
 rival of the Baldwins. Jack worked over the horses 
 every moment of his spare time, until they began to 
 shine like polished. But he couldn't manage to con- 
 ceal the protruding ribs and bony backs, although he 
 fairly gorged them with corn and oats and the best of 
 hay. However, they were much improved in appear- 
 ance by the first day of July, at which time the guests 
 were expected. The spare room was fixed up to the 
 
 227
 
 PLUCK 
 
 best advantage for the ladies, and our friends vacated 
 their own for Mr. Baldwin. 
 
 Monday, July 1st, at length came, and a beautiful 
 day it was; the air balmy, the grasses luxuriant in 
 their richest green, the wild flowers smiling in the 
 forest and along the road-sides, and the birds singing 
 joyously from a thousand leafy branches. 
 
 The station was nine miles away and the train due 
 at ten o'clock. The horses must necessarily be driven 
 on a walk most of the time, but an early start offset 
 the slow pace, so that our friends arrived a full hour 
 before the train. At length the whistle was heard in 
 the distance, the rumbling sound increased in volume 
 and a moment later the train thundered into the sta- 
 tion. Eagerly they scanned the windows and watched 
 the doors until they saw Mr. Baldwin emerge, closely 
 followed by Mrs. Baldwin and Eda. 
 
 After a most joyful greeting, and securing of the 
 baggage, they started on the return trip Mr. and 
 Mrs. Baldwin occupying the rear seat, while Eda took 
 her place between her brother and Jack, in the front. 
 The country was so bright, the sight so new to the city- 
 bred ladies, especially to Eda, who thought she had 
 never seen anything so lovely, that, amidst question- 
 ing and answering and exclamation at sight of each 
 new discovery, the return trip seemed shorter than 
 Jack could have imagined. And when Eda, over- 
 flowing with happiness, praised the glossy appearance 
 of the horses and asked him to drive slower albeit 
 they rarely left a walk because they would get all 
 out of breath, he was so delighted that even Phillip's 
 
 228
 
 JACK MAKES A TRADE 
 
 sidelong glance and tantalizing smile could not annoy 
 him. 
 
 When they reached home it was after twelve, and 
 a splendid German dinner, prepared by the old lady 
 Bauernfeind, awaited them. 
 
 After doing it hearty justice the guests were anx- 
 ious to view our friends' possessions, and with par- 
 donable pride and many explanations they showed 
 them some of the results of their hard labors. A 
 comfortable house, surrounded by a large, neatly kept 
 yard, and large, well-filled log barns and stables, were, 
 of course, the main features. Then a large herd of 
 cattle cows, oxen, heavy steers and younger stock 
 came in for praise ; a flock of chickens, a dozen geese 
 and waddling ducks followed them about the rear 
 yard, and an old turkey gobbler tried to exhibit the 
 pride his masters felt by strutting about with tail 
 spread into a massive fan and his head thrown back 
 until his wattles were crimson with imprisoned blood. 
 
 Old Bauernfeind was so happy that every moment 
 he could get the ear of one of the guests, he would run 
 over with fulsome praise of the young men : How they 
 had saved him and his "old woman" from want, and 
 how hard they worked, and how everybody liked 
 them, and how good-hearted they were, etc. Nor 
 were the lady guests reticent with expressions of ap- 
 proval. Mr. Baldwin alone was not effusive; only 
 once he remarked to his wife: "Mamma, do you re- 
 member the time when I remarked of a little German 
 lad that he had 'American pluck,' that we wanted such 
 timber and spirit to help build up America and make 
 
 229
 
 PLUCK 
 
 it great?" and she answered, with a nod, "Yes, 
 Richard, I remember it well." 
 
 After a time, as the day had grown quite warm, the 
 two elder people retired to the house to rest, while 
 Eda, who insisted on going into the woods, gladly ac- 
 cepted the company of Phillip and Jack.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT. 
 
 MUST now disgress to give the reader a 
 fair understanding of the location and 
 condition of the farm. It had been 
 bought in the first place with a view to 
 an eventual division between them; and in making 
 their clearings they kept this end in view as much as 
 possible. As already related, the farm consisted of 
 three hundred and twenty acres, two quarter sections, 
 the northeast quarters of one section and the south- 
 east quarter of another. A highway ran east and west 
 directly between the two, to the little village of New- 
 tonville, one and three-quarter miles to the east, on the 
 banks of Wood river. The river was but a small stream 
 that received its supply from large marshes and small 
 creeks, and finally discharged into Rock River. An- 
 other highway had been cut north and south through 
 the forest on the east line of our friends' land, but 
 was hardly fit for passage as yet. Commencing near 
 the middle of the west end of the quarter section 
 north of the main highway, a strip of tamarack, some 
 thirty rods wide and gradually spreading as it crossed 
 the road, bordered a small creek which wound its way 
 southeasterly through the north quarter section, 
 
 231
 
 PLUCK 
 
 crossed the road about 160 rods west of the house, 
 and then ran nearly straight south for two miles, 
 being finally lost in a large marsh, which was also 
 bordered with tamarack trees. The marsh was al- 
 ways flooded by the melting snow and rains in the 
 spring and was then a favorite resort for millions of 
 wild ducks and geese. Both of the quarter sections 
 of our friends sloped gently toward this creek and 
 tamarack, the north quarter having a little more dry 
 land than the other and being, therefore, slightly more 
 valuable. 
 
 The first clearing was made in the northeast corner 
 of the south quarter and the buildings erected thereon. 
 The first little log house was close to the stable and 
 other small sheds, but the new house was a little 
 farther removed and faced the old highway on the 
 north and the new one on the east. The clearing was 
 gradually enlarged, first to the west and south; and 
 afterwards a like space was cleared across the road 
 on the .north quarter extending north and westward. 
 
 The mode of procedure was like this: The trees 
 were cut down, the best logs reserved for the mill to 
 be sold or made into lumber; a little cordwood was 
 also made sufficient for their own use and some 
 friends in the village. The railroad was too far away, 
 and, while the company used wood exclusively at that 
 time, it obtained its supply so cheaply from the set- 
 tlers near by that it did not pay our friends to haul it 
 so far the more so, since they had no horses, until 
 now. Consequently the greater part of the beautiful 
 timber, consisting of maple, red and white oak, elm, 
 basswood, black walnut, butternut, with scattering 
 
 232
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT 
 
 hickory, ironwood and the like, had to be ''logged up" 
 and burned. After this was accomplished, grass seed 
 was scattered on the mellow soil, which soon grew and 
 formed splendid pasture for the cattle. Pasturing was 
 useful in another way: It compacted the soil, kept 
 down the new shoots and aided to early rot the roots so 
 that the stumps could be removed. After a year or two 
 of pasturing all loose stumps were removed and the 
 land plowed two powerful yoke of oxen to each plow 
 the torn up roots gathered and burned, and the field 
 planted to corn; and this was subsequently followed 
 by rye, wheat or oats. Potatoes at first were raised 
 right among the stumps in the virgin soil, but later 
 generally on cultivated land. Each season had its 
 labor; whatever could be done in winter, in the way 
 of clearing, must not be reserved for the summer. 
 
 All this was, of course, herculean toil; but what 
 think you, kind reader, caused these magnificent 
 farms to spring up throughout all Southern Wiscon- 
 sin until it has become a very paradise for agricul- 
 ture ? Nothing but the hardest kind of labor, coupled 
 with many privations. Those who have not lived to 
 see it, or better still, take part, will never be able to 
 realize the tremendous hardships these early pioneers 
 had to contend with, and many such readers of this 
 book will scan these lines with impatience, or skip 
 through them as "uninteresting." Therefore, but a 
 word more on this subject and I will leave it. 
 
 At this time in our friends' history they had 
 cleared nearly sixty acres and were considered among 
 the most prosperous in the community. They had a 
 surplus of general farm products and were beginning 
 
 233
 
 PLUCK 
 
 to make money from the sale of cattle. To-day the 
 herd was on the newly cleared land across the road, 
 which was fenced in, like the remainder, with a heavy 
 rail fence. The cattle, after receiving water at a 
 well near the house, had wandered away to other parts 
 of the pasture, and Phillip proposed that they cross 
 over to show Eda their new clearing. 
 
 When they reached it, but few of the cattle could 
 be seen, and Jack, upon looking around, discovered 
 a break in the fence where they had evidently thrown 
 down the rails with their horns, and some of them 
 passed over into the woods. He suggested that they 
 were probably up on the north end where the timber 
 was lighter and forest grass more plentiful, and pro- 
 posed to go and bring them back. But Phillip said, 
 no, he would go, and Jack should go ahead with Eda 
 he would soon join them. 
 
 Phillip smiled to himself as they left him, while 
 he slowly went in the other direction. 
 
 Side by side Eda and Jack strolled along. The 
 giant forest trees cast a dense shade about them, and 
 only a glimmer of sunshine now and then forced its 
 way through the thick foliage. Under their feet the 
 thick leaves yielded like a heavy velvet carpet, and 
 modest forest plants bowed to them at every foot- 
 step. The startled "birr" of a partridge, as it left its 
 favorite scratching place, and the occasional "oo-hoo" 
 of a distant owl were the only sounds that could be 
 heard. Deeper and deeper grew the shade and the 
 warm moist air seemed to enthrall the senses of the 
 wanderers. At length Eda broke the silence: 
 
 234
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT 
 
 "Oh, Jack, this is beautiful; I feel as though I 
 were in the presence of angels and God were near 
 by," she half whispered. 
 
 Jack, although he had long since, been converted 
 from his prepossession in favor of the prairie to love 
 of the forest, this day saw its beauties as never be- 
 fore. With a heart overflowing with indefinable emo- 
 tion and love bordering on idolatry for the fair being 
 at his side, he could only stammer a subdued "Y-e-s." 
 
 Presently Eda roused herself: "If indeed we are 
 in such good company, let us be gay," she exclaimed. 
 "Oh, what a beautiful flower ! See over there let's 
 get it." 
 
 "That is a 'lady slipper 5 ," Jack said, "and fits you 
 to perfection," he gallantly added. 
 
 "Oh, no, I hope not I was not raised in China," 
 she laughingly answered; and as her eyes espied a 
 new flower : "Look, Jack ! Why, it looks like a violet 
 it must be a real forest violet I did not know they 
 ever blossomed so late." 
 
 "In this dense shade they blossom all the summer. 
 And look, Eda, this is 'bleeding heart,' and this is 
 'heart's ease,' which will you have?" 
 
 "Both, Jack, because they ever grow together," she 
 answered meaningly. 
 
 Thus talking, picking flowers, and now and then 
 lapsing into silence, they walked along until they 
 reached the borders of the tamarack, when Eda said, 
 "Let's sit down on this log and wait for Phil. I won- 
 der where he can be so long." 
 
 "I suppose," Jack replied, "he had difficulty in 
 finding the cattle or in bringing them back; and I 
 
 335
 
 PLUCK 
 
 know he wouldn't give up, because they are more dif- 
 ficult to find in the evening. I believe I can hear a 
 cowbell in the distance now" he added, listening 
 "he must have found them." 
 
 Silence followed; Eda had seated herself on the 
 moss-covered trunk of a fallen tree and was looking 
 dreamily at the thick undergrowth of the tamarack 
 swamp. Her light bonnet had fallen back on her 
 shoulders, held there by the pale blue ribbon about 
 her neck, and her beautiful auburn hair, released 
 from restraint, crowded in clinging waves over her 
 snowy forehead and kissed her rosy cheeks. She was 
 a picture of loveliness. An expression at once so ten- 
 der and indicative of self-reliance and strength rested 
 on her countenance, that Jack stood silently before 
 her, unable to lift his eyes from her face. She raised 
 them for a moment and saw a look that brought a 
 quick blush to her cheeks. 
 
 "Oh, isn't that a fern over there ?" pointing to the 
 edge of the tamarack. "Why, what a large one 
 won't you get it for me ?" 
 
 Jack looked slowly in the direction indicated, then 
 mechanically went and got it. He laid it in her lap, 
 seized her hands, and suddenly knelt down before her 
 and sought her eyes. 
 
 "Eda," he began, "I cannot stand it longer, I can- 
 not ! I must tell you what is in my heart. I love you 
 so immeasurably it makes me almost crazy. Tell me, 
 oh, please tell me can I have even the smallest hope 
 ever to win your love in return ? You are so good, 
 so pure, so strong, you would ennoble any companion, 
 and, though I am uncouth now, with your love to look
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT 
 
 forward to, earth will be a paradise and I will not 
 disgrace it." He bowed his head as he uttered the 
 last earnest words, kneeling like a penitent sinner at 
 the judgment throne. 
 
 Tears, sweet tears of joy and love welled up to 
 Eda's eyes. Her head drooped forward until her lips 
 almost touched his hair, as she whispered in his ears, 
 "Jack, dear Jack, I'll never learn to love you more 
 than now." He glanced up, saw her eyes beaming 
 with love, and caught the meaning of her words, and 
 up he jumped, this wild Irish lover, to his feet, and 
 gave such a terrific shout that the old giant trees shook 
 the owls and whippoorwills from their branches, and 
 Eda turned pale and looked about in alarm for the 
 cause of such an eruption. Before she could realize 
 anything she was seized by two strong arms, lifted 
 bodily from her seat and pressed to a manly breast, 
 Avhose owner almost smothered her with kisses. As 
 suddenly she was released and replaced on the log. 
 Once more Jack knelt before her, now looking almost 
 pale, he took her hand and earnestly asked, "Is it 
 true, Eda, do you love me ?" and when she nodded her 
 head the tears commenced to roll down his cheeks, he 
 kissed her hand and muttered, "This is too much, too 
 much happiness may I shout once more?" And, 
 before she could answer, his voice again awakened the 
 echoes in the distant woods. 
 
 "Oh, dear, dear Eda, it would have killed me if I 
 couldn't have shouted," he said, as he now quietly sat 
 down beside her and placed his arm about her. "In 
 the wildest dreams of my life I never imagined I 
 could be so happy." 
 
 237
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Hello ! Hello-o !" some one called in the distance. 
 "Helo-o-o !" it sounded again nearer, and in a mo- 
 ment Phillip came rushing by where the lovers were 
 seated. Suddenly he saw them sitting on the log, 
 Eda's head pillowed on Jack's breast, and Jack's arm 
 around her waist, and they saw him. 
 
 He stopped short and looked at them, steadily main- 
 taining their position. Then a broad smile lit up 
 his face, while he muttered to himself, "Well, I might 
 have known it, Jack had to shout or burst when that 
 came about." He approached the couple and they 
 ran to meet him and embraced him together. 
 
 "Oh, you dear Phillip, I know you stayed away so 
 long purposely," Eda whispered ; "Phil, it's all your 
 doing, I'd never dared believe it if you hadn't bid me 
 hope," Jack shouted. 
 
 "Well, well, children," the young man replied, "it's 
 all right, but next time don't scare a fellow to death 
 with your unearthly yells why, I thought some 
 dreadful accident had surely happened, and ran all 
 the way from the clearing." 
 
 "But what made you stay so long did you have 
 trouble with the cattle?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I sat on the fence dreaming, and hoping 
 you two would get lost and find each other" Phillip 
 answered laughingly. 
 
 Beautiful as the forest still was, and sweet the per- 
 fume in the air, the lovers must hasten home, Eda to 
 pour the story of her happiness into the willing ear 
 of her foster mother, Jack to speak with beating 
 heart to Mr. Baldwin. Phillip remained, and seating 
 himself upon the fallen tree so recently the witness 
 
 238
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT 
 
 of unfathomable joy, thought of the future, with the 
 silent dread of war uppermost in his heart. He hated 
 war, he loved peace. Discord of any kind, enmity 
 and bitterness were like poison to him. The older 
 he grew, the more charitable toward the faults of his 
 fellow beings he became. Why could not right and 
 justice prevail without blows, without struggles, with- 
 out wars ? Why must men kill each other to force 
 still others to see and in mind and heart learn, what 
 is right! 
 
 He felt that war would surely come that any mo- 
 ment duty might call him to leave his pleasant home, 
 the nursery of his ambitions and of his hopes for the 
 future; and that he must then leave it all, perhaps 
 never to see it again : And his heart grew sad and 
 heavy. How he had labored and struggled since he 
 left the shores of the Fatherland ! And what would 
 be the final fruit of his labors ? A grave perhaps in 
 some distant valley, unknown and uncared for ! 
 
 Suddenly, as if from the vapors of that grave, there 
 seemed to arise before him the vision of father and 
 mother he saw them at the moment of parting, when 
 mother strained him to her heart and anointed him 
 with her tears, when father blessed him and bade him 
 be true to his God, for, as he added in unbounded 
 faith, "Gott verlaesst die Seinen nie !" and Phillip, 
 slipping down from his seat, in the deep shade and 
 dead silence of the forest, with his folded hands rest- 
 ing upon one of its fallen monarchs, knelt and 
 prayed. When he arose a smile hovered on his lips, 
 new cheer was in his heart, and with elastic step he 
 sought his home. 
 
 239
 
 PLUCK 
 
 That was a happy week for them all, but 
 more particularly for Eda and Jack. All day they 
 would roam the forest, exploring every hidden nook 
 and telling each other of their past lives. Often they 
 revisited the spot where they had plighted their troth, 
 and lived over again the joy of those happy moments. 
 To the hour of their death, not long ago, it was ever 
 sacred to them; and though both now sleep beneath 
 the sod, their children will not forget. Not one of 
 the old witnesses to their happiness has felt the wood- 
 man's axe, unless old age and storm first broke them 
 down ; and the survivors still whisper the story to the 
 young shoots that take their place. A tract of about 
 ten acres, dense and shady as of yore, protected from 
 cattle and trespassers, surrounds the spot to this day. 
 
 Thursday, July 4th, they all spent in the village, 
 celebrating the national holiday, and though Phillip, 
 in response to unanimous call, made a patriotic 
 speech, Jack remained the hero of the day, because 
 it became known that he had won that charming girl, 
 Phillip's sister. 
 
 During the week Mr. Baldwin and Phillip visited 
 the tracts of land the latter had selected as the most 
 promising for investment, and by Saturday night the 
 deals had been concluded and purchases made. The 
 following Monday the guests returned to their home 
 in Milwaukee. It was a sad parting for who could 
 foretell what the future had in store with the lowering 
 clouds of war before them. Each day made the com- 
 ing of the storm more certain, and gloomy and sad 
 indeed was the final farewell. Jack promised Eda, 
 with tears in his eyes, that he would not volunteer 
 
 240
 
 HE HAD TO SHOUT 
 
 until it became a duty to his country, and Phillip was 
 to say when that time had come. Then, indeed, she 
 would not hold him back. All still hoped, or made 
 believe they hoped, the storm would pass. 
 
 2-11
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE WAR. 
 
 BOUT two weeks later came the news 
 that Congress had voted $250,000,000 to 
 pay the expenses of putting down the 
 Rebellion, and authorized the call for 
 500,000 volunteers; and that the Confederate States 
 had issued a call for an equal number of men. 
 Almost simultaneously came the news of the Battle 
 of Bull Run and the Unionists' defeat. Excitement 
 ran high the more enthusiastic of the young men 
 of the village company were for enlisting at once; 
 but the cooler heads held them in check for a time. 
 
 Day by day the feeling grew more and more in- 
 tense Jack, with many others, chafed at being held 
 back, but Phillip restrained them. "It is not neces- 
 sary, boys, as yet ; when the time comes we will move 
 till then be patient," were his orders. But they 
 would not be patient. The patriotism their captain 
 had himself slowly fanned into flame, got beyond his 
 control. One hot-headed fellow went so far as to call 
 Phillip a coward, for which he was promptly knocked 
 down by Jack. Finally some could be held back no 
 longer, and the company broke up. At least one- 
 half left for various posts of enlistment. The re- 
 
 242
 
 THE WAR 
 
 mainder waited with Phillip and Jack until Septem- 
 ber, when news of repeated disaster to the Union 
 forces had made every patriot's duty clear; then all 
 left to join the army. Phillip and Jack, with a num- 
 ber of others, went to Chicago and enlisted there as 
 privates in Company - of Illinois Volunteers. 
 Before going they secured their crops, sold a large 
 part of their stock and left the remainder in charge 
 of old Bauernfeind, hoping, at least, that inside of 
 a year they would return. It was decreed otherwise, 
 as the result showed. 
 
 Kind reader, do not expect me to trace the war 
 record of either of them on these pages ; for the story 
 of their lives the next three years, of the hardships 
 through which they passed, the battles which they 
 fought, is a confused mass in my mind. How often 
 have I seen the two old veterans sitting together of 
 an evening, at the fireside, and live over again, so to 
 speak, their thrilling adventures of the war. I have 
 heard them describe this battle and that and quarrel 
 in a friendly way over some unimportant detail; I 
 have heard them tell of tight places they were in 
 when nothing short of a miracle seemed able to save 
 them ; then I have heard them tell of comrades whose 
 bravery at some time saved their lives; and I have 
 seen them weep at the recollection that at roll call 
 dear voices never again responded. Their record in 
 the main was no different from that of hundreds of 
 thousands of brave lads and let us tell the truth, on 
 both sides whose courage, heroism and daring has 
 made the name "American," whether of the north or 
 
 243
 
 PLUCK 
 
 of the south, when worthily borne, equal to the title 
 of "Prince." 
 
 This whole war, in which were enlisted on the 
 Union side alone more than two and one-half million 
 of men, of whom about one million were constantly in 
 the service, was the most obstinately and bravely 
 fought of any war recorded in modern history. Meas- 
 ured by the losses in killed and wounded, as battles 
 always are, it showed such stupendous courage and 
 daring, and utter disregard of death in the determin- 
 ation to conquer, that it leaves all other wars of mod- 
 ern times far behind. The losses of the victor and 
 conquered are given as approximating one million 
 men. 
 
 In song and story have been immortalized the sub- 
 lime courage of the Guards of Inkennann, the Ninety- 
 third Highlanders, the famous charge of the Light 
 Brigade, the terrible fighting and losses at Mars La 
 Tour and Gravelotte ; but think of it, in our civil war 
 there were more than one hundred regiments, each of 
 which in some one battle suffered a greater loss than 
 the British at Inkermann, than any regiment under 
 Wellington, Blucher or Napoleon at Waterloo, or any 
 regiment in the Franco-Prussian war! "No Euro- 
 pean regiment," says Adjutant Charles Richardson, 
 to whom I am indebted for these condensed figures, 
 "in any recent struggle suffered such loss as at Gettys- 
 burg befell the One Hundred and First Pennsyl- 
 vania, which lost 76 per cent., or the Twenty-Sixth 
 North Carolina, which lost 72 per cent. ; such as at 
 the second battle of Manasses befell the One Hun- 
 dred and First New York, which lost 74 per cent. ; 
 
 244
 
 THE WAR 
 
 or the Twenty-First Georgia, which lost 76 per cent. 
 At Cold Harbor the Twenty-First Massachusetts lost 
 70 per cent., and the Tenth Tennessee at Chicka- 
 maugua lost 68 per cent. ; at Shiloh theNinth Illinois 
 lost 69 per cent, and the Sixth Mississippi 70 per 
 cent. ; while at Antietam the First Texas met the ap- 
 palling loss of 82 per cent." And so the list con- 
 tinues until "more than 152 regiments are found to 
 have lost to exceed 50 per cent., and more than 500 
 Union regiments that suffered a greater loss in killed 
 and wounded than that which befell the Light 
 Brigade at Balaklava (and nobody blundered either), 
 which was only 36.7 per cent." 
 
 With such a record of a whole army, can you doubt 
 but that Phillip and Jack also did their duty ? Jack 
 served to the close of the war and returned as Colonel. 
 Phillip was disabled in May, 1863, and brevetted 
 Lieutenant Colonel for bravery in his last battle. 
 Perhaps I ought to tell more, but I will not now not 
 in this book. Let the following brief mention of facts 
 suffice: 
 
 Jack was wounded twice and that in quick succes- 
 sion: The first time by a bayonet thrust in the left 
 arm, at the time he was taken prisoner, and the next 
 by a bullet which passed through the muscles of the 
 leg, while escaping from his captors a day later. He 
 and six others had been out on a foraging expedition 
 and were resting in the shade of a tree with their 
 booty. Nothing had been seen of the enemy for sev- 
 eral days and the party, feeling secure, had stacked 
 their muskets against a tree, and were eating their 
 dinner. Suddenly, from the neighboring bushes, a 
 
 245
 
 PLUCK 
 
 squad of Confederate soldiers emerged and ordered 
 them to surrender. Jack, always impetuous, reached 
 for his musket, but would have been pinioned to the 
 tree by the bayonet of one of the enemy had not a 
 comrade diverted the thrust. As it was he received 
 a painful, but not dangerous flesh wound in the fore- 
 arm. Nothing better remained to be done than to 
 surrender, as their captors far outnumbered them and 
 had them at their mercy. 
 
 All day they marched and when night came camped 
 in a ravine bordered by wooded hills. The prisoners 
 were closely guarded by two sentinels, while the others 
 slept. Before morning a thunder shower made sleep 
 impossible, and the soldiers stood about their camp 
 fire, paying little attention to the prisoners and their 
 guards. Now and then one of the guards would walk 
 up to the fire to warm himself, keeping a sharp look- 
 out, however, in the direction of the prisoners, while 
 the other gloomily paced the soaked ground. Jack de- 
 termined to escape whether his companions followed 
 or not. Taking advantage of a moment when the 
 guard's head was turned, and willing to risk a bullet 
 from the one at the fire, he made a dash for liberty, 
 into the darkness. An instant later a shot rang out, and 
 Jack felt a sting in his leg; though it seemed not to 
 have deprived him of its use. Quickly changing his 
 course in the pitchy darkness, he heard the shots of 
 the others, but they did not come in his direction. He 
 kept blindly on till he became aware that he had 
 reached the hillside, when he stopped to regain breath. 
 He felt of his leg and found warm blood oozing from 
 
 246
 
 'He made a. dash for liberty, into the darkness.
 
 THE WAR 
 
 a wound near the thigh. Removing his coat, he took 
 off his shirt and tore it in strips for a bandage. This 
 he tightly bound around his leg and succeeded in 
 staunching the flow of blood. Then he slowly com- 
 menced the ascent of the hill. 
 
 As he reached the top, after half an hour's climb- 
 ing, the storm broke up and the retreating clouds 
 showed dawn at hand. He sat down to rest, and as 
 daylight came, he could distinctly see the smoke of 
 his captors' camp fire in the distant valley. He knew 
 the direction he had been brought and about where the 
 Federal forces must be. Slowly and laboriously he 
 made his way to the Union lines, arriving there on 
 the third day having had no food during the whole 
 dreary march and suffering tortures from the fever 
 produced by his wound. But one month thereafter 
 he was again in the ranks. In all the battles in 
 which he took part, and in one of which his whole 
 company was shattered, the second lieutenant, cap- 
 tain and sergeant killed, he escaped without a scratch. 
 His very first promotion was from the ranks to sec- 
 ond lieutenant, and further advancement followed 
 in time. 
 
 Neither will I here give our hero's war record any 
 extended notice. Those who have followed the de- 
 velopment of his character and know his cool, de- 
 liberate, fearless nature and devotion to duty, the fact 
 that from the ranks he rose to captaincy and was 
 finally, when disabled, bre vetted lieutenant colonel, 
 will be sufficiently satisfied that his record, too, was a 
 proud one. Let me, therefore, revert only to the clos- 
 ing scene of his activity as a soldier. 
 
 247
 
 PLUCK 
 
 It will be remembered that when General Grant in 
 the spring of 1863, determined to capture Vicksburg, 
 and after desperate efforts to reach the south side of 
 that "Gibraltar of the West" finally succeeded in the 
 last days of April, it was his intention to capture 
 Grand Gulf and make it the base of his operations. 
 On the 29th, after an engagement lasting five hours, 
 the attempt was abandoned. During the night Grant's 
 army moved farther south, and crossed to the east 
 shore in the morning, landing at Bruinsburgh. Be- 
 fore proceeding against Vicksburg it was necessary 
 to clear away the danger of attack from the rear. 
 Without an instant delay, he, therefore, ordered Gen- 
 eral McClernand to proceed against Port Gibson. 
 McClernand met the. enemy about eight miles from 
 the city, and drove them back. In the morning he 
 again came upon them only four miles distant, 
 strongly entrenched in two highways running along 
 the summit of hills bordered on both sides by im- 
 passable ravines. Bertram was at that time captain 
 of a company under Osterhaus. 
 
 Hoovey's, Carr's and Smith's divisions were or- 
 dered to attack the right wing, while Osterhaus pro- 
 ceeded against the left. A desperate battle ensued, 
 and had it not been for the timely support of Logan's 
 division, the result might have been different. On 
 the arrival of these reinforcements the attack became 
 so terrific and irresistible that the enemy fled in dis- 
 order bordering on rout. A thousand prisoners were 
 made, and five cannons captured, but the Union loss 
 in killed and wounded was eight hundred and fifty. 
 
 248
 
 THE WAH 
 
 Bertram and his company were in the front ranks, 
 and he had unusually distinguished himself by his 
 wonderful coolness and daring. Just as the enemy 
 were breaking up in disorder, and our soldiers saw 
 that theirs was the victory, he was seen to sway from 
 side to side the sword falling from his grasp, the 
 uplifted hand sinking helplessly to his side and the 
 next moment reel and fall forward on his face. A 
 dozen comrades rushed to his assistance; but he 
 pointed with feeble hand to the enemy, and they un- 
 derstood. Two remained, however, and carried him, 
 now insensible, to the rear. With the other wounded 
 he was taken to the camp hospital and examined. The 
 surgeon found that he had been shot in the breast, 
 the bullet passing through the left lobe of the lung 
 and lodging in the muscles of the back. "Not neces- 
 sarily fatal, but likely to be," was the verdict. 
 
 After quickly dressing the wound, the surgeon hur- 
 ried on to others that needed his help. Next morning 
 he came again, and, seeing Phillip looking intelligent- 
 ly at him, exclaimed cheerily, "What, not dead yet! 
 Then you have a chance for life. I must examine 
 your wound again." 
 
 "If you can stand it to have the bullet cut out it 
 will increase your chances of recovery the wound 
 can then heal both ways. The bullet lies so near the 
 outer surface it ought to be removed," he said, after 
 a short examination. 
 
 "Then I will stand it," was Phillip's weak answer. 
 
 Another surgeon was called to assist. Quickly the 
 incision was made and the bullet removed. But, be- 
 fore the wound could be washed and dressed, uncon- 
 
 249
 
 PLUCK 
 
 consciousness had mercifully come to the patient's re- 
 lief. "It's best so," the surgeon muttered as they fin- 
 ished their work, "he will feel better when he comes 
 to." 
 
 And there our hero lay for two long, weary months. 
 When the fever, caused by his wound, began to sub- 
 side and he seemed on the fair road to recovery, a new 
 complication set in : He was attacked by Southern or 
 "swamp" fever. The nursing could not be of the 
 best, although heroic women, following in the train 
 of war's devastating sweep like ministering angels, 
 worked untiringly for the relief of the victims. The 
 number was too great to do justice to them all. Day 
 upon day new sufferers arrived, while a few returned 
 to duty and many more were conveyed to a silent, an 
 eternal resting place. 
 
 At length Vicksburg surrendered ! On the Fourth 
 day of July the victorious Union hosts marched into 
 the city and the Star Spangled Banner of Liberty 
 waved from the citadel. The Mississippi was open to 
 the north, and when Port Hudson fell a few days 
 later, that great highway of commerce was ours to 
 the Gulf. 
 
 Many of the invalids were now sent north in trans- 
 ports, some to Memphis, some to St. Louis and some 
 to Chicago. Phillip, whose iron constitution had bat- 
 tled for weeks with the consuming fever, was again 
 beginning to recover; and, although he was consid- 
 ered still too feeble to be removed, he begged so earn- 
 estly to be taken along that consent was finally given, 
 and, with the others, he was loaded on a transport 
 and carried up the river. He felt as though the nearer 
 
 250
 
 THE WAR 
 
 he could be to his forest Jiome in the cool climate of 
 the north, the more certain would be his recovery. 
 
 At St. Louis, those destined for Chicago were 
 transferred to coaches on the Illinois Central railroad 
 and carried the remainder of the distance by rail. 
 And what a lot of armless, legless, maimed cripples 
 they were ! Pale and wan, the ravages of privation, 
 wound and disease had stamped themselves on every 
 countenance. The weaker ones were lying on cots 
 and straw mattresses longing for the coming time of 
 quiet and rest. At length they arrived at Chicago and 
 were conveyed to the hospitals. With a sigh of relief 
 our hero felt the motion of being carried cease. The 
 trip had been too much for him a moment he lay 
 staring at the high ceiling, then he became uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 How long he remained in that condition he did not 
 know until after many days. But all the time he 
 seemed so happy ministering angels seemed to sur- 
 round him. Often he could hear his mother's voice 
 talking soothingly to him as in his childhood; then 
 again his father spoke strong, earnest words of ad- 
 monition thrilling, convincing, and full of paternal 
 love. He saw Eda and Jack sitting in the forest with 
 his arm about her waist, and they ran toward him 
 again for the brotherly embrace; again Grandma 
 O'Donnell was scolding his chum and lamenting that 
 he would bring her to an early grave; and Sammy, 
 and good old Peter Gross ! How often he heard the 
 old gentleman's cheerful voice ringing in his ears.. 
 But there was one vision which seemed to be with 
 him by day and by night, to hover over him, to ten- 
 
 251
 
 PLUCK 
 
 derly caress him, too soothe his moments of restless- 
 ness and irritability so wonderfully lovely, so sweet 
 and tender he could not understand it ; he was puz- 
 zled; he thought of little Bessie, and again she was 
 with him, and he seemed to feel her small arms 
 about his neck and felt her sweet childish kiss 
 upon his lips; but this was not Bessie, although she 
 seemed like her ; was it an angel or mortal oh, who 
 could it be ? In sheer desperation at his inability to 
 solve the mystery, he gave up the attempt and yielded 
 himself unquestioningly to its sweet influence. At 
 length he thought he awoke, but seemed so weak, oh, 
 so weak and tired, he could not open his eyes. One 
 effort he would make and when he looked up the 
 room seemed in semi-darkness. He thought he heard 
 a quick movement at his bedside and the whispered 
 words, full of infinite gratitude, "Thank God !" and 
 again he closed his eyes and slept. 
 
 252
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DOCTOE LAWRENCE AND BESSIE. 
 
 CHILLY, drizzling rain was falling on 
 the day of Phillip's arrival in Chicago. 
 In a substantial brick residence, on 
 Ada street, a physician might have been 
 seen slowly pacing up and down his study. His hands 
 were folded behind him, his head bent as if in deep 
 thought. Of medium height, with broad forehead 
 limning well back to reach a fair circle of silvered 
 hair, rather thin, pale cheeks, furrowed and clean 
 shaven, a round chin, mobile and expressive lips part- 
 ly covered by a curling moustache, with deep set, 
 thoughtful looking eyes he looked the student and 
 worker that he was. 
 
 "Why dream of bygone days ?" he muttered, stop- 
 ping in his walk, "they can never come back." He 
 paused, but in a moment added, "If only our little 
 girl will meet her happiness. I must work on until 
 I meet her beyond the shores." He picked up his 
 medicine case, examined the phials, added to the 
 contents of some from the shelves of a large cup- 
 board, then, putting on his raincoat and hat, left the 
 house. 
 
 253
 
 PLUCK 
 
 It was our old acquaintance, Doctor Lawrence, 
 whom we last saw nearly eighteen years ago at Cas- 
 tle Garden in New York, the father of Phillip's 
 dream-child Bessie. When he left New York he went 
 to Boston, as he had intended, and resumed his prac- 
 tice. His wife's health, however, which had been 
 much improved by the trip to Europe, took a turn for 
 the worse, and he concluded to try a milder climate. 
 He went to Memphis and remained there two years. 
 At first Mrs. Lawrence's health seemed to improve, 
 but soon again took a turn for the worse, and she died 
 just when her husband's practice had assumed its 
 largest proportions. His grief was great nor could 
 he bear to remain in the city where death's angel had 
 taken her from him. He took his child, then between 
 seven and eight years of age, and removed to Chicago. 
 At the same time he wrote to his widowed sister at 
 Buffalo, offering her a home and praying her to keep 
 house for him and help him bring up his little girl. 
 She gladly complied with his request, and soon 
 learned to love the child as her own. 
 
 Dr. Lawrence now threw himself with almost 
 fierce energy into practice ; to forget the pain in his 
 o\vn heart he devoted himself unsparingly to the alle- 
 viation of the sufferings of others, with the result 
 that his practice grew to enormous proportions and 
 his income rose in accordance. He had neither time 
 nor inclination to look for secure loans, but bought 
 real estate, as offering at least a safe means of invest- 
 ment. The rapid growth of the city, however, soon 
 made his property double and quadruple in value, so 
 
 254:
 
 that, at the time when we again meet him, he was 
 considered a moderately wealthy man. 
 
 When the war broke out and the city hospitals be- 
 came crowded with the wounded and sick, and it be- 
 came difficult to obtain sufficient medical attendance, 
 he determined to give up his practice and devote him- 
 self gratuitously to the relief of the disabled soldiers. 
 Thus it is that we find him, pacing the floor, his 
 thoughts still dwelling on the loss of his dear one, 
 then resolutely putting them aside and making his 
 way to one of the hospitals. 
 
 Arrived there, he was informed of the large num- 
 ber of new patients just received. Other physicians 
 were already active ; wounds were being dressed and 
 medicines administered. Neatly attired nurses 
 moved quietly from cot to cot, attending to the wants 
 of the sufferers. Presently one of them approached 
 with quick and silent step and said in a low voice, 
 "Doctor, please come with me, Doctor Pierce wishes 
 to see you." 
 
 Following the nurse, he found Doctor Pierce 
 bending over one of the patients, holding a small 
 mirror to the slightly parted lips. As Doctor Law- 
 rence came up, he turned, saying: "Just alive, and 
 that is all. He must have been unconscious ever 
 since his arrival, an hour ago." 
 
 Together they examined his wound, which had 
 started bleeding afresh, dressed it, and then ap- 
 plied restoratives to the sick man. After a time his 
 breathing became more perceptible, and he opened his 
 eyes: "This is terrible boys, terrible, but we must 
 obey orders." "Yes," he added, "we'll do it if we 
 
 255
 
 PLUCK 
 
 die." Then a look of pleasure glided over his pale 
 and haggard face. "Yes, yes, I knew you'd say that, 
 we'll win or die together," and then he mumbled inco- 
 herently, while his eyes had that vacant look which 
 showed delirium. 
 
 "The trip was too much for the poor fellow," Doc- 
 tor Lawrence quietly said, taking the patient's tem- 
 perature. "He has evidently had the Southern fever 
 and has relapsed. His wound alone is bad enough, 
 and this relapse is likely to carry him off." He then 
 counseled Doctor Pierce how to best treat his patient, 
 and was about to leave to look to the others when 
 something in the young soldier's countenance arrest- 
 ed his attention. "Strange," he said, turning partly 
 toward his companion while his eyes still rested on 
 the patient, "his face seems familiar, as though I had 
 at some time met him. Do you know who he is, have 
 you seen the lists ?" 
 
 "No," the other answered, "I hardly ever look at 
 them and today I have been too busy." 
 
 After several hours of the most trying labor, Doc- 
 tor Lawrence returned to take another look at the 
 young man ; then he turned toward the secretary's of- 
 fice and asked to see the list of new arrivals. Carefully 
 he ran his eyes over the long rows of names, until, 
 near the end, he saw that of "Captain Phillip Ber- 
 tram." He quickly returned the roll to the secretary 
 and went back to the delirious soldier. "Yes, yes, it 
 must be he poor boy to thus find you again !" Long 
 he gazed at him, endeavoring to think what he could 
 do to make his last hours easier. Finally he turned 
 
 256
 
 DOCTOR LAWRENCE AND BESSIE 
 
 away quickly and with hasty step started for his 
 home. 
 
 He let himself into the house and went straight to 
 the family sitting-room where he found his sister and 
 daughter Bessie. Both arose and the latter instantly 
 ran to him, threw her arms about his neck and kissed 
 him repeatedly. 
 
 "There, there, that will do," he said, affectionately, 
 as he gently unclasped her hands and started to re- 
 move his raincoat, helped by his sister. 
 
 "What is it papa ?" Bessie asked anxiously, as she 
 noticed an unusually grave look in his eyes. 
 
 "Sit down my dear, here close to me; you too, 
 Aggie, bring your chair to the fireplace, this east 
 wind is chilly and damp ; I want to tell you a little 
 story." 
 
 "Some years ago," he began speaking in slow mono- 
 tone, when they had complied with his request and 
 Bessie's hand was clasped in his own, "a man whom 
 you both know took his sick wife to Europe hoping 
 that its famous baths and the change of climate might 
 affect a cure. They took with them their little child, 
 the treasure of their hearts, and they remained as 
 long as their means would permit. Their hopes 
 were partially realized, at least there was great im- 
 provement in the wife's condition. But the sea was 
 tempestuous and mother and child were largely con- 
 fined to their little room. One day that disease, 
 dreaded most of all on a crowded ship, smallpox, 
 broke out and spread to such an extent that the 
 ship's physician was unable alone to care for the 
 afflicted. The man I am speaking of was a 
 
 257
 
 PLUCK 
 
 physician of some experience, and humanity de- 
 manded that he join in the care of the sick. On 
 that same ship there was a little German boy about 
 ten or eleven years of age whom poverty had com- 
 pelled to leave home and parents and who was going 
 to America to make his own living. A warm 
 attachment seemed to spring up between the child 
 and the boy and they were inseparable companions. 
 One day the child was taken sick it soon developed 
 into a dangerous fever the mother by this time lay 
 prostrate in her berth the father could not con- 
 stantly remain with his child, but the little boy did !" 
 
 His voice was unsteady and he stopped for a mo- 
 ment. Bessie's hand had long before begun to trem- 
 ble in his, while she earnestly watched his face, and 
 Aunt Aggie was listening with rapt attention. 
 
 "The little boy's devotion contributed much to 
 save the child's life." 
 
 Again he paused for an instant in which Bessie 
 exclaimed "Oh papa, it was Phillip." 
 
 "Ah, I thought you had forgotten him," he resumed 
 with a sad smile as he glanced at her excited face. 
 
 "Oh papa!" she answered as she looked reproach- 
 fully at him. 
 
 "Yes dear, I know your affectionate little heart; 
 you have never forgotten that boy. For years your 
 little childish prayers included him. But pray for 
 him again my child, he needs it most now." 
 
 "Papa," Bessie exclaimed as she sprang to her 
 feet and stood before him, a deep pallor suddenly 
 overspreading her face, "you have seen him again! 
 He is injured 1" 
 
 258
 
 DOCTOR LAWRENCE AND BESSIE 
 
 "Yes, but come, dear, don't excite yourself, sit 
 down, yes on my lap if you will ' as she seated 
 herself on his knee while he passed his arm about 
 her "Why, how you tremble !" 
 
 "That man, Aggie," he resumed, addressing his 
 sister, "was myself, and the child was our Bessie. 
 The little boy's name was Phillip Bertram. I have 
 never seen or heard of him again until I saw him 
 today among the wounded soldiers in the hospital 
 dying." His voice shook with emotion as he ended, 
 and his daughter was weeping on his breast. 
 
 "I thought," he began again, "that perhaps you 
 two would be willing that I have him brought here, 
 to give him the only chance for life, or at least make 
 his last hours easier." 
 
 Bessie sprang to her feet, her tears vanishing while 
 sorrow and hope struggled for supremacy: "Oh, 
 do, dear papa, do, Aunt Aggie and I will nurse him to 
 life!" she exclaimed excitedly. 
 
 Again he made her sit down; and then he told 
 them of the patient's condition. There was some 
 risk in removing him, but less now whlie the delirium 
 lasted than later; and then, absolute quiet was his 
 only chance for life. He would also employ an 
 assistant to be at hand in case the sick man should 
 become violent. 
 
 259
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 PHILLIP AND BESSIE. 
 
 ROOM was prepared and all the arrange- 
 ments made that night. In the morning 
 the stricken soldier, tenderly covered and 
 protected, was carried by two stalwart fel- 
 lows to the doctor's house. 
 
 In a room of semi-darkness, on a bed soft and yield- 
 ing, they laid him. But he knew it not. As well 
 might he have lain on the sun baked earth, with the 
 hot Southern rays scorching his body; he would not 
 have felt the difference the fever was burning with- 
 in. 
 
 How Bessie at first gazed at those drawn features ; 
 how she sought for a semblance to the sturdy little 
 boy of her memory, for whom she had so often 
 prayed even to the present day, in the tall wasted 
 form of the stricken soldier before her! He looked 
 at her, he spoke, but his look showed no intelligence, 
 his mutterings were incoherent. All day they sat 
 silently at the bedside, Bessie on one side, Aunt 
 Aggie on the other, and at night they took turns 
 sleeping on a couch near the bed. They dressed his 
 wound and bathed his fevered body, and soothed him 
 in his excited moments. There was no danger of his 
 becoming violent, his strength was too nearly ex- 
 
 260
 
 PHILLIP AND BESSIE 
 
 hausted. For two weeks he hovered on the brink of 
 eternity; often Bessie bent over him with beating 
 heart to listen whether he still breathed. Some- 
 times he spoke in a whisper, she would catch a name, 
 "mother," "Jack." Once she was sure he said 
 "Bessie," and she started back amazed, thinking he 
 had recognized her, but no, the next word showed his 
 mind was wandering. But how her heart beat! 
 What was coming over her, she seemed only at ease 
 when near him, soothing him with gentle caressing 
 hand and how quickly he would become quiet under 
 her touch. 
 
 The weeks slowly passed and the little flame of 
 life was still burning, though feeble. Of late Bessie 
 had often knelt at his bedside when alone, prayed 
 for him, held, carressed, kissed his hand, and once 
 quickly, gently, the fevered lips; and how the rich 
 blood mounted to her cheeks, as she looked to see 
 whether any one had seen her, though she knew no 
 one else was present! 
 
 One afternoon, while Aunt Aggie had gone out 
 on an errand, and Bessie was kneeling at the bedside, 
 as she often did when alone, earnestly watching the 
 oft changing expression of his face, she saw him 
 slowly open his eyes. The vacant look had gone, 
 intelligence reigned again! "Thank God" she 
 whispered as an overwhelming joy came over her. 
 Breathlessly she gazed at him for a moment, saw 
 him slowly close his eyes, and soon his regular breath- 
 ing showed that he had fallen into a deep, health- 
 giving sleep. Unable to restrain her emotions, and 
 fearing to disturb the sleeper, she hastened from the 
 
 261
 
 PLUCK 
 
 room where her presence was not now needed, and 
 met her father just returning from his labors. She 
 threw herself upon his breast, and wept passionately. 
 Startled and fearing the worst, he carried her to the 
 sofa and sat down with her on his lap, her arms still 
 around his neck. 
 
 "What is it my little girl" he asked tenderly. "Is 
 he dead ?" 
 
 But she only shook her head, still unable to speak. 
 "Oh I am so glad," she finally whispered, while tears 
 of joy were streaming down her cheeks. "He will 
 live, he opened his eyes for a moment and I saw he 
 was again in his right mind, then he closed them 
 slowly and fell asleep." 
 
 "Then my little girl's sacrifice was not in vain, and 
 she has paid her debt of gratitude. But now, dear, 
 go to your room, sleep and rest, you are all worn out ; 
 I will stay with Phillip until Aunt Aggie returns." 
 
 Obediently she went, and a happier maiden never 
 gave thanks to God with more grateful heart than 
 Bessie did before she slept. 
 
 That night Dr. Lawrence occupied the couch in the 
 sick room, to be at hand when the patient awoke. 
 But he did not awake ; all night and all the following 
 day and succeeding night he slept on without awaken- 
 ing. The ghastly pallor that at first succeeded the 
 fever tinted color of the face, was slowly giving way 
 to a more natural appearance. The expression be- 
 came calm and peaceful, the breathing regular and 
 stronger. It was plainly perceptible that nature 
 was working a great change for the better during 
 that long sleep. 
 
 262
 
 PHILLIP AND BESSIE 
 
 The second morning, when he finally awoke, Dr. 
 Lawrence was alone in the room with him. He 
 opened his eyes and slowly turned them about; the 
 doctor, who had been watching him, came closer to 
 the bedside. "Where am I ?" Phillip inquired feebly, 
 almost in a whisper. 
 
 "You are in good hands, Captain. I will tell you 
 all you may know for the present, but you must be 
 wholly silent ; absolute quiet and rest alone will save 
 your life," Dr. Lawrence answered in a low soothing 
 voice. "I am an old acquaintance of yours, Dr. 
 Lawrence;" he stopped as he saw the light in the 
 sick man's eyes grow in intensity. "If it excites you 
 I must stop," he said, feeling for the pulse. 
 
 "Please tell me more," Phillip pleaded, "it will 
 not harm me." 
 
 "Soon after you arrived at the Chicago hospital," 
 the doctor continued, with his hand on the sick man's 
 pulse, "I discovered who you were and had you 
 brought to my house. My little girl and her Aunt 
 Agnes, my sister, have nursed you and will take care 
 of you yet. This is all you may know now; be 
 patient and all will be well." 
 
 "Doctor," Phillip whispered, "your little girl is 
 _it_ Bessie?" "Yes, Phillip," the doctor replied, 
 for the first time addressing him by the old familiar 
 name, while a happy smile crept to his face, "it is 
 Bessie." 
 
 "And Mrs. Lawrence ?" Phillip whispered again, 
 looking earnestly at the kindly face before him. 
 
 263
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Is in heaven," was the quiet answer. "But now 
 no more for today. I will send my sister and Bessie, 
 but you must ask no questions." 
 
 So saying he took his departure, while Phillip,, as 
 he slowly realized how in his hour of deepest dark- 
 ness a Protecting Hand had safely led him, let the 
 silent tears force their way through the fallen lids 
 and roll down upon his pillow. A few moments later 
 he fell again into light slumber. 
 
 When he awoke he saw the outlines of a slight 
 form standing near the bed, with one hand resting 
 on the covering and the other pressed to her left side. 
 He could not at first discern the features, but grad- 
 ually, as his eyes became accustomed to the subdued 
 light, he saw before him the vision of his dreams, the 
 sweet face that had hovered over and about him in 
 the hours of his delirium, the gentle presence that had 
 soothed his restless moments. "Bessie" he muttered, 
 and what a world of feeling was expressed in that 
 one word, what a light of happiness shone in those 
 deeply sunken eyes ! 
 
 "Hush," she said softly, as she approached closer, 
 "papa says you must not speak," and she sat down on 
 a chair near his side and held his wasted hand. 
 
 Silently they sat there, until those happy earnest 
 eyes, that seemed to devour her very soul, brought 
 the crimson blood to her cheeks and made her droop 
 her own. But she did not let go his hand, and the 
 tremble of his received its response in the quick 
 pulsation of hers. Long they sat there, unconscious 
 of the flight of time. Mrs Hill, coming in an hour 
 later, found them still in the same position, except 
 
 264
 
 PHILLIP AND BESSIE 
 
 that the girl's head had fallen forward on the bedding 
 both had fallen asleep. 
 
 Slow, slow was Phillip's recovery. His strong 
 constitution had been tested to its utmost. For 
 weeks, aye months, it had fought a prolonged des- 
 perate battle with the forces of death, and when it 
 had finally conquered, he was weaker than a child. 
 Most tenderly his friends cared for him, and their 
 loving devotion did not abate. 
 
 About three weeks from the time when he first 
 came to consciousness, he was permitted to sit up a 
 little while during the day ; gradually, as he gained 
 more in strength, the length and frequency of the 
 periods were increased. At such times Bessie was his 
 constant companion. Little by little she related all 
 that had transpired in her short life, and Phillip, in 
 turn, unfolded the story of his, until each seemed to 
 see the other's very soul mirrored before them. 
 
 One day, while Phillip was still quite weak, and 
 soon after he was first permitted to sit up and use 
 the sofa, padded with pillows, as a resting place, he 
 startled her while she was sitting a short distance 
 from him reading for his entertainment, by saying 
 rather abruptly: 
 
 "Bessie, come here to me, please." 
 
 Quickly she laid down her book and stood before 
 him. "What can I do for you Phillip ?" she asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Much, dear, put your arms around my neck and 
 kiss me." 
 
 As he uttered these words in a voice low, gentle 
 and vibrating with emotion, he looked confidently at 
 
 265
 
 PLUCK 
 
 her. "Come," he repeated as she started, then 
 paused, half commanding, half beseechingly ; and the 
 next moment, with fleeting breath and crimson face 
 she clasped her hands gently about his neck, kissed 
 him in rapid succession three times upon the lips, 
 and sank convulsively weeping upon her knees before 
 him, burying her face in her hands. 
 
 "Oh, I love, I love you so, and you commanded 
 me," she moaned between her sobs. 
 
 Slowly and feebly he bent forward, gently he laid 
 his right hand on her hair. "Look at me darling!" 
 
 She obeyed, and what she saw no pen has ever 
 described the boundless love of a great human 
 heart. "Oh!" burst from her lips as her feelings 
 were swept from shame to immeasurable joy, and the 
 next instant her hands again clasped his neck and 
 passionate kisses rained on his lips and eyes. Again 
 she sunk on her knees before him, this time unable 
 to withdraw her eyes from the countenance before 
 her, so grand and overwhelming was the happiness 
 it expressed. 
 
 "Did you think sweet one," he said slowly, tender- 
 ly, almost reverently, as she kissed his pale hand, 
 " that I did not love you ? Oh, girl, my love for you 
 is my life, my soul ! I have always loved you ! In 
 my dreams and in my waking hours you have been 
 near me. How many temptations has your sweet 
 childish image helped me to resist! Love you dar- 
 ling?" he exclaimed, as his eyes shone with the 
 power and strength of his great love, "I -will always 
 love you!" 
 
 266
 
 'Look at me, darling!' "
 
 PHILLIP AND BESSIE 
 
 Hardly knowing what she was. doing, supreme 
 happiness lighting up her face, she sprang to her feet 
 and danced around the room : "Oh, Phillip, darling 
 Phillip !" she exclaimed, as she rushed back to the 
 young man who watched her in amazement, scarcely 
 able to believe that this impetuous child was the 
 modest little maid who had nursed him so sedately 
 and tenderly during the long weeks gone, by, "darling 
 Phillip, I am so happy !" Then, as she noticed a 
 growing pallor on his face, she said in sudden alarm :. 
 "Oh, dearest, you must lie down!" and quickly she 
 was transformed again into the gentle nurse. 
 Tenderly she helped him to a reclining position on 
 the couch on which he had been sitting, and placed 
 the soft pillows under his head. Then, wholly ex- 
 ceeding her duty as a nurse, she knelt at his side, 
 placed one hand on the prostrate man's cheek and 
 pillowed her face against the other. 
 
 How long they remained in this position, exchang- 
 ing sweet words of love, probably neither could tell ; 
 but papa's footsteps in the hallway finally caused 
 Bessie to jump up and run to meet him. 
 
 With radiant face she sprang to his arms, and hid 
 her blushes on his breast. Papa smiled and stroked 
 her head; "So he has found you out?" he asked 
 smiling. "Hm, h-m," came the answer, but with 
 such a completely happy and satisfied inflection, that 
 he smiled again. 
 
 With his arm around her waist, father and 
 daughter entered the room. Dr. Lawrence went 
 straight up to Bertram, took his hand and said gaily, 
 
 267
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "Well, my son, your recovery is positively assured 
 now." 
 
 "It was long ago," the latter answered, as Bessie 
 helped him to resume a sitting position. "We have 
 only put the seal to it," he added smiling. 
 
 And that was all there was said upon the subject, 
 by either of these two men. The father was entrust- 
 ing the only remaining treasure of his life, the child 
 of his heart, to a young man born in poverty and 
 obscurity, reared in want and adversity, amidst toil, 
 privations and temptations, even now poor in worldly 
 possessions, and with an uncertain future before him : 
 The young man taking as his of right the hand of 
 the girl that loved him. Neither for a moment 
 thought of the other's worldly position, wealth or 
 honors; nor did it for a moment strike them as ex- 
 traordinary that the daughter' of an American born 
 gentleman of refinement, education, wealth and influ- 
 ence, who might have made her choice from the elect 
 of the land, should joyously unite her life to one she 
 had first known as a little "greenhorn" German boy 
 in search of a living: 
 
 And such is the true American's character! He 
 looks not to worldly wealth or honors ; it is the inter- 
 nal not the external qualification of a man which 
 .recommends him. And here were two Ameri- 
 cans, the one springing from the blue blood of old 
 Boston the other from the stern old Teutonic race. 
 Both were true Americans. 
 
 268
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HAPPY, HAPPY, DAYS. 
 
 DAY or two later, as Phillip was leaning 
 back on the sofa in his usual position, with 
 Bessie near by, he suddenly exclaimed, 
 "Oh Bessie, how wrong of me, how thought- 
 less and selfish ! Won't you write to Eda for me, 
 dear?" 
 
 "Eda?" Bessie exclaimed, a quick pallor over- 
 spreading her face ; but instantly it vanished and her 
 eyes asked forgiveness. 
 
 "Jealous so soon, sweetheart?" he said smiling; 
 "but I am not sorry. Yes, you guessed correctly, Eda 
 is my sister. Who told you I had a sister ?" 
 
 "Papa and I have often talked about you and he 
 told me you had a sister in Germany," she answered. 
 
 "Yes but she is in America now, in Milwaukee, 
 and she no doubt is mourning for me as dead." 
 
 Bessie sprang to her feet. "Oh, I will write to her 
 at once; but you must not reproach yourself, you 
 were too feeble to think much before," she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes and too selfish in my own happiness," he 
 added. 
 
 Hastily she ran upstairs to her room to bring pen 
 and ink, then seating herself at the table in the 
 
 269
 
 PLUCK 
 
 center of the room, with the tip of the penholder on 
 her lip, asked, "Well what shall I write ?" 
 
 "Tell her that I am well and happy, or happy and 
 will soon be well; and ask her what news she has 
 of Jack, Jack is her betrothed and my friend," he 
 answered and explained. 
 
 Bessie wrote while Phillip watched the constantly 
 changing expression of her contenance. 
 
 "There," she said with a happy laugh, after a 
 short time, "that will do ; shall I read it to you ?" 
 and without waiting for a reply began : 
 
 "DEAREST SISTER: 
 
 Do not be surprised that I address you thus. 
 'Though I'm not your sister yet, I will be soon. 
 Phillip is going to marry me, he must, he must, and 
 he wants to ! He is well and happy with us, that is 
 he is not quite well yet. He was wounded and had 
 a hard fever, but now he is able to sit up again. He 
 wants you to know, so that you will not feel worried 
 about him ; and oh, we both want to see you so much ! 
 Won't you come to see us? You can telegraph and 
 papa will meet you at the station. Come, please do 
 come ! I must see you ! My heart is so full of 
 happiness, he is such a darling of a man. I must 
 tell you all. 
 
 With a thousand kisses, 
 
 Your loving sister, 
 BESSIE LAWRENCE. 
 
 P. S. Oh, yes ! Phillip wants to know what news 
 you have of Jack he says he is your sweetheart. 
 
 BESSIE. 
 
 270
 
 HAPPY, HAPPY DAYS 
 
 Phillip kissed her as she came to his side for 
 approval. "What a treasure of a frank open heart 
 you have," was his only comment. 
 
 "But, dearest, you have not put down the address; 
 if she could come or wanted to write she would not 
 even know where a letter would reach us." 
 
 "Why sure, what a little goose I am!" and she 
 hastily added another postscript, giving her address. 
 Then she sealed it and rushed out to deposit it in the 
 mail box near by. 
 
 No telegram came, but late in the afternoon of the 
 second day the door bell was heard to ring. "It is 
 Eda," Bessie exclaimed excitedly, as she bounded to 
 her feet and rushed into the hall. A moment later 
 two happy girls were folded in each other's arms. 
 There was no need of an introduction here, one look 
 and each knew the truth. 
 
 The meeting between the sister and the brother 
 mourned as dead, the sisterly love that quickly 
 sprang to life between the two young girls and the 
 confidences they poured into each other's ears, the 
 endless happy conversations between them all, let 
 us pass them by. It was all of deep meaning and 
 importance to the participants at the time, but will 
 interest the reader less. Jack was still at the front 
 and Eda heard from him as often as could be ex- 
 pected with the poor mail communication of that 
 time. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin were well, and Old 
 Bauernfeind on Phillip's farm was developing into 
 quite a genius as manager. He had hired some old 
 Germans during the last few years and had success- 
 fully cropped the whole farm. The news from the 
 
 271
 
 PLUCK 
 
 old home across the sea announced no change, except 
 that Phillip's father had retired from teaching and 
 "little Fritzie," now a grown up young man, was his 
 successor. 
 
 After a visit of several weeks, Eda returned to 
 her home, having Bessie's promise of a return visit 
 the next summer. 
 
 One day, a few weeks later, while Phillip was 
 sitting in an easy chair, dreamily watching Bessie at 
 some needle work, he interrupted the current of her 
 thoughts by saying, "Bessie," there was always a 
 world of kindest affection in his voice when he 
 uttered that name; years later I have often heard 
 him, when he was old and gray and she the cheeriest, 
 plumpest little grandmother you ever saw, and I 
 well remember how it always sounded like a caress, 
 "Bessie," he said, "I wish you would learn to speak 
 German." 
 
 Bessie looked up in pleased surprise. "Why, 
 Phillip," she answered, coloring, "I do speak 
 German, mamma taught me some when I was a little 
 girl, and then I studied it in school." 
 
 "You little darling," he paused; "But what in- 
 duced you to ?" he asked joyfully. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," she truthfully answered and 
 again she colored. "But why did you wish it ?" 
 
 "Well, dear," he said slowly and thoughtfully, 
 "because I want our children to learn it." 
 
 A still richer dye for a moment suffused her cheeks 
 as she cast down her eyes; but the next moment she 
 looked up and said with almost equal gravity, "And 
 so do I." 
 
 272
 
 HAPPY, HAPPY DAYS 
 
 "You see," continued Phillip still engrossed with 
 his previous thoughts, without for a moment realiz- 
 ing that it might be a delicate subject to the blue- 
 eyed, rosy-lipped, modest little maiden before him, 
 "It is not that I wish them to cling to their father's 
 nationality no, I would sooner be an American than 
 belong to any other nation under the sun ; but there 
 is so much of the best in the stern old German char- 
 acter which is intimately connected with the German 
 language, its songs, its traditions, and which I fear 
 will be forever lost to our descendants when they lose 
 the knowledge of their parent tongue, that I want 
 them to cling to it as long as they can. The change 
 will come soon enough in spite of all we can do. 
 This wonderful nation absorbs the characteristics of 
 all others and moulds them into a splendid new one 
 of its own. But," earnestly, "I do believe those of 
 the race I spring from will do it more good than 
 harm." 
 
 Just then Bessie suddenly very much disconcerted 
 him by asking demurely, while a mischievous twinkle 
 lurked in her eye, "Is it true, Phillip, that the Ger- 
 mans whip their wives ?" 
 
 "Yes, darling," he answered when he had recovered 
 himself, "and I would advise you never to marry 
 one," he added, smiling goodhumoredly. "But some 
 Germans also love their wives and treasure them as 
 their heart's idol," he continued relapsing into his 
 usual gravity. "There are brutes among men of 
 every nationality ; coarse, degenerate, evil beings ; 
 but we must not measure a nation by its scum or 
 
 273
 
 PLUCK 
 
 criminals, else they would all be murderers because 
 a few such are found among them." 
 
 One day later, when they were again sitting in 
 much the same relative position, Bessie, looking up 
 from her work, asked, "Phillip, when we get married 
 where are we going to live ?" 
 
 "Why yes, dear," he exclaimed, "I ought to have 
 told you. We will live on the farm, of course. As 
 soon as I am well enough I am going back, and when 
 the war is over, Jack and I will put up another house 
 and we'll divide the land. He and Eda will no doubt 
 want to get married and we'll live right close 
 together." He said this all as though it was a matter 
 perfectly settled and agreed upon. 
 
 Bessie looked up and said half poutingly, half 
 reproachfully: "Now Phillip, you have been think- 
 ing that all out by yourself and never even consulted 
 me!" 
 
 "True, darling, and I ought not to have done so; 
 for you have as much right to determine the matter 
 as I have, you are as much concerned. Forgive me, 
 it has become my habit always to think far ahead 
 and weigh circumstances and influences in my mind. 
 But if my determination does not please you we will 
 change it." 
 
 "No, no, dear," she quickly answered, entirely 
 consoled. "It suits me perfectly. The country with 
 its green woods, its hills and valleys and streams 
 and birds and flowers, it is where I would most 
 desire to live. And papa must give up his practice 
 and come to live with us," she added determinedly. 
 
 274
 
 HAPPY, HAPPY DAYS 
 
 Steadily Phillip's health improved; and when the 
 beautiful autumn days came he could often be seen 
 slowly pacing the long veranda, or searching for some 
 delayed blossom in the flower beds upon the lawn. 
 Bessie was as gay and happy as a bird. All day long 
 her songs echoed through the house sometimes in 
 German, sometimes in English. The news from the 
 seat of war made the final Union victory a certainty, 
 and it became only a question of time when the Con- 
 federate armies must surrender or be annihilated. 
 Cheerfulness and activity pervaded the whole North. 
 
 Winter came and went, with an early spring fol- 
 lowing in its wake. Phillip's health was nearly re- 
 covered, and as he grew more and more into his 
 natural proportions, and his features resumed their 
 rounded contour and healty color, chastened in ex- 
 pression by his past sufferings and present great 
 happiness, Bessie fairly worshipped him. He was 
 her ideal, she could not have wished him otherwise. 
 
 275
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN THE OLD "HEIMATH/' 
 
 REGRET that I must now draw my nar- 
 rative to a close and skip over a long period 
 of eventful years. The record of the life 
 of a man of the stamp of Col. Bertram 
 cannot be successfully crowded into a book of ordi- 
 nary dimensions. Kindly, therefore, let it suffice that 
 I give you a last glance at Phillip and Bessie as we 
 find them many years later, and then drop the curtain. 
 
 In the spring Phillip returned to his farm and 
 resumed its management. By fall he had to a large 
 extent recovered his health and former vigorous 
 energy ; but it would take several years to remove the 
 last traces of his long illness. Another winter came, 
 and the war still raged ; yet closer and closer the net 
 was drawn, until finally in April, Lee's surrender set 
 the country wild with joy. The backbone of the 
 rebellion was broken. The South sued for peace. 
 Soon the victorious hosts, those who survived the ter- 
 rible struggle, returned to the embrace of their dear 
 ones and resumed the avocations of peace. 
 
 Phillip and Bessie, and Jack and Eda were 
 married on the same day, in the month of June, at 
 the farm, under the spreading branches, in the balmy 
 atmosphere of the primeval forest. Doctor Lawrence, 
 
 276
 
 IN THE OLD "HEIMATH" 
 
 Aunt Aggie, Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin and a host of 
 friends from the village and surrounding country 
 were the guests. 
 
 Bessie's father insisted that she and Phillip take 
 a trip to Germany immediately after the marriage, 
 for he realized the longing that must be in Phillip's 
 heart to see his parents and the old home once more, 
 and he believed the trip would finally fully restore 
 his health. His services being no longer necessary 
 at the hospital, he placed his Chicago property in 
 the hands of a trusty agent and came to live on the 
 farm to help Jack in planning and superintending 
 the erection of his home and other buildings, and 
 make the necessary enlargements upon Phillip's dur- 
 ing the latter's absence. Jack and Eda occupied the 
 old home until their new one was completed, and 
 were very happy. 
 
 It was a grand day in yon little village across the 
 sea, when one bright morning "der Amerikaner und 
 die junge Amerikanerin" appeared in its midst. 
 Joyous tears flowed in abundance ; but the sight that 
 touched our Bessie the most was to see the mother's 
 tender love and the father's beaming pride as they 
 looked again and again upon their stalwart son. 
 
 What a meeting it had been, what a greeting, what 
 glad joy filled the whole village, what welcome hands 
 stretched forth to grasp their own ! What manner 
 of people were these who could share so generously 
 in the happiness of another! Poor in worldly 
 possessions indeed they were. It was apparent every- 
 where. But such whole-hearted joy at the happiness 
 of another Bessie had never seen. 
 
 277
 
 PLUCK 
 
 It was not until late in the evening, that she could 
 be for a moment alone with her husband. "Phillip," 
 she said in hushed earnestness as she placed herself 
 before him and reached up to put her little hands 
 on his shoulders, "I have never appreciated you until 
 this day ! I have seen the stock you came from, can 
 read and understand your very heart, can grasp the 
 grandeur of your soul !" And her look of unbounded 
 pride and devotion made the choking lumps come to 
 his throat for the thousandth time that day. He 
 clasped her in his arms and whispered, "My Bessie !" 
 
 A year later they returned to their own sweet 
 home in America. On the day of parting, as the old 
 father and mother, Phillip's brothers, and the 
 inhabitants of the whole village were assembled to do 
 honor to the departing guests and bid them farewell, 
 the old man arose and solemnly blessed them: "Do 
 you remember, my son," he then said, "what you told 
 mother and me twenty years ago when you begged 
 us to let you go? Oh, a thousand times have we 
 thought how prophetic were your words: 'The day 
 will come when you will bless the hour you let me 
 go.' Aye a thousand times have we blessed it; had 
 it not been for you, want and poverty would have 
 held us in their grip; and you, God knows what 
 might have become of you! ' Today you leave us 
 again," he continued, his voice growing firmer as 
 he mastered his emotion, "but this time we have no 
 fear torturing our hearts; and though we know we 
 will not meet you until in the great hereafter, 
 happiness takes the sting from the sorrow of parting." 
 
 278
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A IiAST LOOK. 
 
 years have passed. In a 
 spacious room, facing the north and east, 
 a man is sitting at a desk engaged in 
 writing. Now and then he knots hia 
 eyebrows in thought for a moment while his pen 
 rests, then he resumes writing. He is powerfully 
 built and well nourished; his hair, what remains of 
 it, encircling a large bald spot uniting with a broad 
 round forehead, is iron gray; a white moustache, 
 almost military in appearance, tends to cast an ex- 
 pression of severity into an otherwise kindly face. 
 Two bluish gray eyes, deep set and expressive, still 
 show the lingering fire that once could blaze with 
 controlling power. 
 
 A short distance from him, in an easy chair, sits 
 an old lady reading nursery stories. Every few mo- 
 ments she smiles and her blue eyes glisten through 
 her gold mounted glasses, as childhood memories are 
 brought back afresh by the pages before her. She 
 is plump, and a look of goodnatured kindness is 
 stamped on her features. Her hair is likewise gray, 
 but the lips and cheeks still show traces of their rich 
 color in youth. 
 
 279
 
 PLUCK 
 
 "There," the old gentleman exclaimed at last in a 
 rugged, strong voice somewhat filled with impatience, 
 as he folded up the paper on which he had been writ- 
 ing and pushed back his chair to face the old lady, 
 "I think they will agree to that and then it will be an 
 end of their dispute. I don't see why men can't make 
 up their own differences and not trouble me !" 
 
 "But papa, dear," she replied as she lowered her 
 book and looked up at him with a kindly smile, "I 
 do believe if the whole country didn't come in to pour 
 all their woes into your ears and make you settle all 
 their quarrels and 'disputements,' as old Boettcher 
 says, you would be perfectly unhappy. It is the 
 great good you are doing them, and their gratitude, 
 which keeps you in good cheer." 
 
 "Yes, and often it is not appreciated, and I get 
 only blame instead of thanks," he answered half 
 surlily. 
 
 "To be sure, but more often you get their blessing. 
 Just think," she continued in gentle coaxing voice, 
 "how often you have saved one or another from 
 breaking up the family, and got husband and wife 
 to live together again v peacefully ; or saved some one 
 from a litigation that would have taken his farm; 
 and how often you have helped the poor in mis- 
 fortune or distress, or turned a young man back into 
 the right path." 
 
 A more contented expression was creeping over his 
 face as he said, "Yes, but still it bothers me, and they 
 ought not to quarrel. We never did, Bessie, did we ?" 
 And there was the same old familiar ring of tender- 
 
 280
 
 A LAST LOOK 
 
 ness and suggestion of a caress in the sound of that 
 name as there had been thirty-three years ago. 
 
 She got up slowly from her chair, went up to him, 
 put her arm around his neck and sat on his knee, 
 then placing her face directly in front of his said 
 "No, we didn't! you great, good, crusty old bear," 
 and kissed him. A satisfied, happy look and a warm 
 kiss rewarded her. 
 
 "Oh but you are heavy 'old woman,' " he exclaimed 
 after a few moments, making a comical grimace of 
 pain, when her generous weight had time to make 
 itself felt. 
 
 "And I could return the compliment 'my old 
 man,' " she said laughing as she patted his bald head 
 for a moment and, kissing him again, got up. 
 
 Thus we find our old friends Phillip and Bessie 
 after a lapse of thirty-three years, happy as of yore, 
 loving each other with a tenderness that survived the 
 passion of youth and will accompany them to the 
 grave on the same old farm, in the same old 
 house which Bessie's father caused to be remodeled 
 while they were on their wedding trip. 
 
 Oh, were I but able to picture a life so full of 
 usefulness, harmony and love as theirs has been. 
 Never for a moment did either falter in duty. Sor- 
 rows and trials were not spared them, for who indeed 
 goes free ? but love for each other sustained them and 
 bore their thoughts ever aloft. 
 
 Phillip, or Col. Bertram, as his neighbors called 
 him, had held many positions of public trust, local 
 and state; for years he was Justice of the Peace, 
 almost constantly a member of the County Board of 
 
 281
 
 PLUCK 
 
 Supervisors; several times member of the Assembly 
 and three times State Senator ; and at all times was 
 he the trusty and trusted adviser of a large circle of 
 neighbors, the arbiter of their disputes, the helper 
 in their days of adversity or hours of distress. He 
 never sought for political or social honors; he pre- 
 ferred the peace of home, and honors came unsought. 
 
 Five children had come to bless the loving couple, 
 three stalwart sons, and two daughters. One of the 
 little girls died when but three years of age. All 
 the boys were married and had families and homes 
 of their own. Eda, their daughter and youngest 
 child, was still at home, sought after by many suitors. 
 She resembled both her mother and her father. 
 Some claimed she resembled her aunt and namesake, 
 Eda O'Donnell, the most, but she had the rounded 
 chin, mobile lips and laughing eyes of her mother. 
 
 Jack and Eda too had prospered, and lived in 
 happy contentment on the old place. One of their 
 numerous sons had charge of the farm ; some of the 
 others were located in the neighborhood ; and one was 
 a long time physician in Milwaukee. 
 
 Sammy Dornbush and his Rosa had paid several 
 visits to their friends "in the west." Rosa's father 
 had died long ago, but her mother, now old and 
 feeble, was still with them. Doctor Lawrence, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Baldwin and many of our other old friends 
 and acquaintances were sleeping in their graves. 
 
 "Bessie, come here to me," Phillip asked after he 
 had stood for a long time looking through the window 
 at the distant horizon; "Look," and he placed his 
 arm about her as of old, while with the other hand 
 
 282
 
 Look', and he placed his arm about her"
 
 A LAST LOOK 
 
 he pointed to the scene exposed to their view ; "See 
 all these handsome homes ; look at the vast extent of 
 clear, rich fields and beautiful meadows and pastures, 
 studded here and there with woodland ; see the river 
 in the distance as it sparkles in the sunshine; can 
 you imagine how this all must have looked when I 
 first came here, when heavy forests covered every 
 acre of it? and just think, dear, what great labor it 
 was for human hands to bring about this change! 
 Then it was a wilderness, now it is one of the richest 
 and most fruitful spots on God's footstool, a beauti- 
 ful new 'Heimath' to these many Germans." 
 
 "Bessie," he continued, as his arm tightened about 
 her waist, "I am always sorry after I have grumbled 
 as I did before, and there always comes to me then a 
 vivid realization of the great love of God throughout 
 all the trials of my life, and of the crowning proof 
 of it when He gave you to me as a helpmeet! 'Old 
 woman/ darling, I love you still," he closed with 
 emotion trembling in his voice. 
 
 For a moment he was silent ; then through the open 
 window, far out over the rich spring scenes of the 
 valley, his still powerful voice, mingling in sweet har- 
 mony with Bessie's finer strains, could be heard: 
 
 "Ich Hebe dich so lang ich leben werde, 
 "So lang ein Herz in meinem Busen schlaegt ; 
 "So lang ein Gott regiert auf dieser Erde, 
 "BisGottesEngelein maleinst die Toten weckt." 
 
 And as they ceased, as if in response to the happy 
 listening old couple, there came from the window of 
 the adjoining room the sound of a piano accompany- 
 
 283
 
 PLUCK 
 
 ing the sweet girlish voice of their daughter, as she 
 sang: 
 
 "Im dunklen Haine der Nachtigall 
 "Hoer ich nur deiner Stimme Schall, 
 "Die Luefte sausen mir deinen Gruss, 
 "Die Bluethen hauchen mir deinen Kuss. 
 
 "Dein gedenk ich wenn ich erwach, 
 "Du bist mein Sternlein bei dunkler Nacht ; 
 "Am blauen Himmel seh ich Dein Bild, 
 "Im Sternenschimmer strahlst Du mir mild." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 284