ALLIANCE LIBRARY, No. 2 
 
 STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, NEW YOR}^ 
 

ROBERT HaW?’S 
 SEVEN DAYS 
 
 A DREAM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 Rev. CHARLES M. SHELDON 
 
 Author of “IN HIS STEPS” 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 STREET & SMITH, Publishers 
 
 238 William Street 
 
ROBERT HARDY’S SEVEN DAYS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 It was Sunday night, and Robert Harding 
 had just come home from the evening ser- 
 vice in the church at Barton. He was not 
 in the habit of attending the evening service, 
 but something said by his minister in the 
 morning had impelled him to go out. The 
 evening had been a little unpleasant, and a 
 ' v light snow was falling, and his wife had 
 excused herself from going to church on 
 that account. Mr. Hardy came home cross 
 .^■^and fault-finding. 
 
 “Catch me going to evening service again ! 
 Only fifty people out, and it was a sheer 
 ^ waste of fuel and light. The sermon was 
 ^^one of the dullest I ever heard. I believe 
 ^ Mr. Jones is growing too old for our church. 
 !s^ We need a young man, more up with the 
 
 1 149959 
 
8 Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 
 
 times. He is everlastingly harping on the 
 necessity of doing what we can in the present 
 to save souls. To hear him talk you would 
 think every man who wasn’t running round 
 to save souls every Winter was a robber and 
 an enemy of society. He is getting off, too, 
 on this new-fangled Christian Sociology, 
 and thinks the rich men are oppressing the 
 poor, and that church members ought to 
 study and follow more closely the teachings 
 of Christ and be more brotherly and neigh- 
 borly to their fellow men. Bah ! I am sick 
 of the whole subject of humanity. I shall 
 withdraw my pledge to the salary if the 
 present style of preaching continues.” 
 
 ‘‘What was the text of the sermon to- 
 night?” asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 “Oh, I don’t remember exactly! Some- 
 thing about ‘This night thy soul shall be 
 demanded,’ or words like that. I don’t 
 believe in this attempt to scare folks into 
 heaven.” 
 
 “It would take a good many sermons to 
 scare you, Robert.” 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 9 
 
 ^‘Yes; more than two a week/’ replied 
 Mr. Hardy, with a dry laugh. He drew 
 off his overcoat and threw himself down 
 on the lounge in front of the open fire. 
 ^^Where are the girls?” 
 
 ‘‘Alice is upstairs reading the morning 
 paper; Clara and Bess went over to call on 
 the Caxtons.” 
 
 “How did they happen to go over there?” 
 Mrs. Hardy hesitated. Finally she said: 
 “James came over and invited them.” 
 
 “And they know I have forbidden them 
 to have anything to do with the Caxtons! 
 When they come in I will let them know 
 I mean what I say. It is very strange the 
 girls do not appear to understand that.” 
 Mr. Hardy rose from the lounge and 
 walked across the room, then came back and 
 lay down again, and from his recumbent 
 position poked the fire savagely with the 
 shovel. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy bit her lips and seemed on the 
 point of replying, but said nothing. 
 
lo Robert Hard)P s Seven Days. 
 
 At last Mr. Hardy asked: '‘Where are the 
 boys 
 
 "Will is getting out his lessons for to- 
 morrow up in his room. George went out 
 about eight o’clock. He didn’t say where 
 he was going.” 
 
 "It’s a nice family. Is there one night in 
 the year, Mary, when all our children are 
 at home?” 
 
 "Almost as many as there are when you 
 are at home !” retorted Mrs. Hardy. "What 
 with your club and your lodge and your 
 scientific society and your reading circle and 
 your directors’ meeting, the children see 
 about as much of you as you do of them. 
 How many nights in a week do you give 
 to us, Robert? Do you think it is strange 
 that the children go outside for their amuse- 
 ments? Our home” — Mrs.^ Hardy paused 
 and looked around at the costly interior of 
 the room where the two were — "our home 
 is well furnished with everything but our 
 own children!” 
 
 The man on the lounge was silent. He 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, ii 
 
 felt the sharpness of the thrust made by his 
 wife, and knew it was too true to be denied. 
 But Mr. Hardy was, above all things else, 
 selfish. He had not the remotest intention 
 of giving up his club or his scientific society 
 or his frequent cozy dinners with business 
 men down town because his wife spent so 
 many lonely, deserted evenings at home and 
 because his children were almost strangers 
 to him. But it annoyed him, as a respectable 
 citizen, to have his children making ac- 
 quaintances that he did not approve, and it 
 grated on his old-fashioned, inherited New 
 England ideas that his boys and girls should 
 be away from home so often in the evening, 
 and especially on Sunday evening. The 
 maxim of Robert Hardy's life was '^Self- 
 interest first." As long as he was not 
 thwarted in his own pleasures he was as 
 good-natured as the average man. He pro- 
 vided liberally for the household expenses, 
 and his wife and children were supplied with 
 money and travel as they requested it. But 
 the minute he was crossed in his own plans. 
 
12 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 or any one demanded of him a service that 
 compelled some self-denial, he became hard, 
 ill-natured and haughty. 
 
 He had been a member of the church at 
 Barton for twenty-five years, one of the 
 trustees, and a liberal giver. He prided him- 
 self on that fact. But so far as giving any 
 of his time or personal service was con- 
 cerned, he would as soon have thought of 
 giving all his property away to the first 
 poor man he met. His minister had this 
 last week written him an earnest, warm- 
 hearted letter, expressing much pleasure at 
 the service he had rendered so many years 
 as a trustee, and asking him if he would not 
 come to the Thursday evening meeting that 
 week and take some part, whatever he chose, 
 to help along. It was a season of anxious 
 interest among many in the church, and the 
 pastor earnestly desired the presence and 
 help of all the members. 
 
 Robert had read the letter through hastily 
 and smiled a little scornfully. What ! he 
 take part in a prayer meeting! He couldnT 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days, 13 
 
 remember when he had attended one — they 
 were too dull for him. He wondered at 
 Mr. Jones for writing such a letter, and 
 almost felt as though he had been imperti- 
 nent. He threw the letter in the waste 
 basket and did not even answer it. He 
 would not have been guilty of such a lack 
 of courtesy in regard to a business letter, 
 but a letter from his minister was another 
 thing. The idea of replying to a letter from 
 him never occurred to Mr. Hardy. And 
 when Thursday night came he went down 
 to a meeting of the chess club and had a 
 good time with his favorite game; for he 
 was a fine player, and was engaged in a 
 series of games which were being played for 
 the State championship. 
 
 The superintendent of the Sunday-school 
 had lately timidly approached Mr. Hardy and 
 asked him if he would not take a class of 
 boys in the Sunday-school. What! he take 
 a class of boys! He, the influential, wealthy 
 manager of one of the largest railroad shops 
 in the world — he give his time to the teach- 
 
14 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 ing of a Sunday-school class! He excused 
 himself on the score of lack of time, and 
 the very same evening of his interview with 
 the superintendent he went to the theatre to 
 hear a roaring farce, and after he reached 
 home spent an hour in his favorite study of 
 chemistry in his laboratory at the top of his 
 house: for Mr. Hardy was a man of con- 
 siderable power as a student, and he had an 
 admirable physical constitution, capable of 
 the most terrible strain. Anything that gave 
 him pleasure he was willing to work for. 
 He was not lazy ; but the idea of giving his 
 personal time and service and talents to bless 
 the world had no more in his mind. 
 
 And so, as he lay on the lounge that even- 
 ing and listened to his wife's plain statement 
 concerning his selfishness^ he had no inten- 
 tion to give up a single thing that gratified 
 his tastes and fed his pride. 
 
 After a silence just about long enough for 
 some one to give the explanation just given, 
 Mrs. Hardy said, speaking coldly, as if it 
 were a matter of indiflference to her: 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 15 
 
 ‘‘Mr. Burns, the foreman, called while you 
 were out.’’ 
 
 “He did? What did he want?” 
 
 “He said four of the men in the casting- 
 room were severely injured this afternoon 
 by the bursting of one of the retorts, and the 
 entire force had quit work and gone home.” 
 “Couldn’t Burns supply the place of the in- 
 jured men ? He knows where the extras are.” 
 “That was what he came to see you about. 
 He said he needed further directions. The 
 men flatly refused to work another minute 
 and went out in a body. I don’t blame them 
 much. Robert, don’t you believe God will 
 punish you for keeping the shops open on 
 any Sunday.’ ” 
 
 “Nonsense, Mary,” replied Mr. Hardy ; 
 yet there was a shadow of uneasiness in his 
 tone. “The work has got to go on. It is 
 a work of necessity. Railroads are public 
 servants; they can’t rest Sundays.” 
 
 “Then when God tells the world that 
 it must not work on Sundays, he does not 
 mean railroad men ? The Fourth Com- 
 
1 6 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 mandment ought to read, ‘Remember the 
 Sabbath day and keep it holy, except all ye 
 men who work for railroads. Ye haven’t 
 any Sunday.’ ” 
 
 “Mary, I didn’t come from one sermon to 
 listen to another. You’re worse than Mr. 
 Jones.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy half rose on the lounge and 
 leaned on his elbow, looking at his wife with 
 every mark of displeasure on his face, and 
 yet, as he looked, somehow there stole into 
 his thought the memory of the old New 
 England home back in the Vermont hills, and 
 the vision of that quiet little country village 
 where Mary and he had been brought up 
 together. He seemed to see the old meeting- 
 house on the hill, at the end of a long, elm- 
 shaded street that straggled through the vil- 
 lage, and he saw himself again as he began 
 to fall in love with Mary, the beauty of the 
 village; and he had a vision of one Sunday 
 when, walking back from church by Mary’s 
 side, he had asked her to be his wife. It 
 seemed to him that a breath of the meadow 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 17 
 
 just beyond Squire Hazen’s place came into 
 the room, just as it was wafted up to him 
 when Mary turned and said the happy word 
 that made that day the gladdest, proudest 
 day he had ever known. What, memories 
 of the old times ! What ! 
 
 He seemed to come to himself, and stared 
 around into the fire as if wondering where 
 he was, and he did not see the tear that 
 rolled down his wife’s cheek and fell upon 
 her two hands clasped in her lap. She arose 
 and went over to the piano, which stood in 
 the shadow, and, sitting down with her back 
 to her husband, she played fragments of 
 music nervously. Mr. Hardy lay down on 
 the lounge again. After a while Mrs. Hardy 
 wheeled about on the piano stool and said: 
 
 ‘‘Robert, don’t you think you had better 
 go over and see Mr. Burns about the men 
 who were hurt?” 
 
 “Why, what can I do about it ? The 
 company’s doctor will see to them. I should 
 only be in the way. Did Burns say they 
 were badly hurt?” 
 
1 8 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 ‘'One of them had his eyes put out, and 
 another will have to lose both feet. I think 
 he said his name was Scoville.’' 
 
 “What! not Ward Scoville!’’ 
 
 “I think Burns said that was the name.'^ 
 Mr. Hardy rose from the lounge, then lay 
 down again. “Oh, well, I can go there the 
 first thing in the morning. I can't do any- 
 thing now," he muttered. 
 
 But there came to his memory a picture 
 of one day when he was walking through 
 the machine shops, and a heavy piece of cast- 
 ing had broken from the end of a large hoist- 
 ing derrick and would have fallen upon him 
 and probably killed him if this man, Scoville, 
 at the time a workman in the machine de- 
 partment, had not pulled him to one side, 
 at the danger of his own life. As it was, 
 in saving the life of the manager, Scoville 
 was struck on the shoulder and rendered use- 
 less for work for four weeks. Mr. Hardy 
 had raised his wages and advanced him to a 
 responsible position in the casting-room. 
 Mr. Hardy was not a man without generosity 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 19 
 
 and humane feeling; but as he lay on the 
 lounge that evening and thought of the cold 
 snow outside and the distance to the shop 
 tenements, he readily excused himself from 
 going out to see the man who had once saved 
 his life, and who now lay maimed for life. 
 If any one thinks it impossible that one man 
 calling himself a Christian could be thus in- 
 different to another, then he does not know 
 the power that selfishness can exercise over 
 the actions of men. Mr. Hardy had one su- 
 preme law which he obeyed, and that law 
 was self. 
 
 Again Mrs. Hardy, who rarely ventured 
 to oppose her husband's wishes, turned to 
 the piano and struck a few chords aimlessly. 
 Then she wheeled about and said abruptly: 
 
 ‘‘Robert, the cook gave warning to-night 
 that she must go home at once." 
 
 Mr. Hardy had begun to doze a little, but 
 at this sudden statement he sat up and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 “Well, you are the bearer of bad news 
 
20 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 to-night, Mary ! What’s the matter with 
 everybody? I suppose the cook wants more 
 pay.” 
 
 Mrs. Hardy replied quietly: ‘‘Her sister 
 is dying. And, do you know, I believe I 
 have never given the girl credit for much 
 feeling. She always seemed to me to lack 
 there, though she is certainly the most faith- 
 ful and efficient servant .we ever had in the 
 house. She came in just after Mr. Burns 
 left, and broke down, crying bitterly. It 
 seems her sister is married to one of the 
 railroad men here in town, and has been 
 ailing with consumption for some months. 
 She is very poor, and a large family has kept 
 her struggling for mere existence. The cook 
 was almost beside herself with grief as she 
 tcld the story, and said she must leave us 
 and care for her sister, who could not live 
 more than a week at the longest. I pitied 
 the poor girl. Robert, don’t you think we 
 could do something for the family? We have 
 so much ourselves. We could easily help 
 them and not miss a single luxury.” 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 2 1 
 
 ‘‘And where would such help end? If we 
 give to every needy person who comes along 
 we shall be beggars ourselves. Besides, I 
 can^t afford it. The boys are a heavy ex- 
 pense to me while they are in college, and 
 the company has been cutting down salaries 
 lately. If the cook's sister is married to a 
 railroad man, he is probably getting good 
 wages and can support her all right." 
 
 “What if that railroad man were injured 
 and made a cripple for life?" inquired Mrs. 
 Hardy quietly. 
 
 “Then the insurance companies or the 
 societies can help them out. I don't see how 
 we can make every case that comes along our 
 care. There would be no end of it if we 
 once began." 
 
 “As nearly as I could find out," continued 
 Mrs. Hardy, without replying to her hus- 
 band's remarks, “cook's sister is married to 
 one of the men who was hurt this afternoon. 
 She talks so brokenly in our language that 
 I could not make out exactly how it is ; and 
 
22 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. . 
 
 she was much excited. Suppose it was Sco- 
 ville; couldn't you do something for them 
 then, Robert?" 
 
 ''I might," replied Mr. Hardy, briefly. 
 ^‘But I can tell you, I have more calls for 
 my money now than I can meet. Take the 
 church expenses, for example. Why, we are 
 called upon to give to some cause or other 
 every week, besides our regular pledges for 
 current expenses. It's a constant drain. I 
 shall have to cut down on my pledge. We 
 can't be giving to everything all the time, 
 and have anything ourselves." 
 
 Mr. Hardy spoke with a touch of indig- 
 nation, and his wife glanced around the 
 almost palatial room and smiled ; then her 
 face grew a little stern and almost forbid- 
 ding as she remembered that only last week 
 her husband had spent $150 for a new 
 electrical apparatus to experiment with in his 
 laboratory. And now he was talking hard 
 times, and grudging the small sums he gave 
 to religious objects in connection with his 
 church, and thinking he could not afford to 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 23 
 
 help the family of a man who had once saved 
 his life! 
 
 Again she turned to the piano and played 
 a while, but she could not be rested by the 
 music as sometimes she had been. When she 
 finally arose and walked over by the table 
 near the end of the lounge, Mr. Hardy was 
 asleep, and she sat down by the table, gazing 
 into the open fire drearily, a look of sorrow 
 and unrest on the face still beautiful but 
 worn by years of disappointment and the loss 
 of that respect and admiration she once held 
 for the man who had vowed at the altar to 
 make her happy. She had not lost her love 
 for him wholly, but she was fast losing the 
 best part of it, the love which has its daily 
 source in an inborn respect. When respect 
 is gone, love is not long in following after. 
 
 She sat thus for half an hour, and was 
 at last aroused by the two girls, Clara and 
 Bess, coming in. They were laughing and 
 talking together, and had evidently parted 
 with some one at the door. Mrs. Hardy 
 went out into the hallway. 
 
24 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 ‘‘Hush, girls, your father is asleep! You 
 know how he feels to be awakened suddenly 
 by noise. But he has been waiting up 
 for you.” 
 
 “Then I guess we’ll go upstairs without 
 bidding him good-night,” said Clara, abrupt- 
 ly. “I don’t want to be lectured about go- 
 ing over to the Caxtons’.” 
 
 “No; I want to see you both and have 
 a little talk with you. Come in here.” Mrs. 
 Hardy drew the two girls into the front room 
 and pulled the curtains together over the 
 arch opening into the room where Mr. Hardy 
 lay. “Now tell me, girls, why did your 
 father forbid your going over to the Cax- 
 tons? I did not know until to-night. Has 
 it something to do with James?” 
 
 Neither of the girls said anything for a 
 minute. Then Bess, who was the younger 
 of the two and famous for startling the fam- 
 ily with very sensational remarks, replied: 
 “James and Clara are engaged ; and they are 
 going to be married to-morrow.” 
 
 Mrs. Hardy looked at Clara, and the girl 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 25 
 
 grew very red in the face; and then, to the 
 surprise of her mother and Bess, she burst 
 out into a violent fit of crying. Mrs. Hardy 
 gathered her into her arms as in the olden 
 times when she was a little child, and soothed 
 her into quietness. 
 
 ''Tell me all about it, dear. I did not 
 know you cared for James in that way.'’ 
 
 "But I do," sobbed Clara. "And father 
 guessed something and forbade us going 
 there any more. But I didn't think he would 
 mind it if Bess and I went just this one 
 night. I couldn’t help it, anyway. Mother, 
 isn't it right for people to love each other?" 
 
 " 'Tisn't proper to talk about such things 
 on Sunday," said Bess, solemnly. 
 
 "Clara!" said Mrs. Hardy; "why you're 
 only a child yet! Is it true that James is — 
 why, he is only a boy!" 
 
 "He is twenty-one and I am eighteen, and 
 he's earning forty dollars a month in the 
 office and is one of the best stenographers in 
 the State. We've talked it over, and I wish 
 we could be married to-morrow, so !" Clara 
 
26 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 burst out with it all at oncej while Bess re- 
 marked quietly: 
 
 ''Yes, they’re real sensible, and I think 
 James is nice ; but when I marry I want more 
 than forty dollars a month for candy alone. 
 And then he isn’t particularly handsome.” 
 "He is, too !” cried Clara. "And he’s good 
 and brave and splendid, and I’d rather have 
 him than a thousand such men as Lancey 
 Cummings! Mother, I don’t want money. 
 It hasn’t made you happy !” 
 
 "Hush, dear!” Mrs. Hardy felt as if a 
 blow had smitten her in the face. She was 
 silent then. 
 
 Clara put her arms around her mother and 
 whispered : "Forgive me, mother ! I didn’t 
 mean to hurt you. But I am so unhappy !” 
 Unhappy! And yet the girl was just be- 
 ginning to blossom out toward the face of 
 God under the influence of that most divine 
 and tender and true feeling that ever comes 
 tc a girl who knows a true, brave man loves 
 her with all his soul. And some people 
 would have us leave this subject to the flip- 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days, 27 
 
 pant novelist instead of treating it as Christ 
 did when he said: ''For this cause (that is, 
 for love) shall a man leave his father and 
 mother, and cleave unto his wife/' 
 
 Mrs. Hardy was on the point of saying 
 something when the sound of peculiar steps 
 on the stairs was heard, and shortly after 
 Alice pushed the curtains aside and came in. 
 Alice was the oldest girl in the family. She 
 was a cripple, the result of an accident when 
 a child, and she carried a crutch, using it 
 with much skill and even grace. The minute 
 she entered the room she saw something was 
 happening, but she simply said : 
 
 "Mother, isn't it a little strange father 
 sleeps so soundly? I went up to him and 
 spoke to him just now, thinking he was just 
 lying there, and he didn't answer, and then 
 I saw he was asleep. But I never knew him 
 to sleep so Sunday night. He usually reads 
 up in the study." 
 
 "Perhaps he is sick ; I will go and see." 
 Mrs. Hardy rose and went into the other 
 room ; and just then the younger boy. Will, 
 
28 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 came downstairs. He said something to his 
 mother as he passed through the room, and 
 then came in where the girls were, carrying 
 one of his books in his hand. 
 
 ‘‘Say, Alice, translate this passage for me, 
 will you? Confound the old Romans any- 
 way! What do I care about the way they 
 fought their old battles and built their old 
 one-horse bridges ! What makes me angry is 
 the way Caesar has of telling a thing. Why 
 can’t he drive right straight ahead instead of 
 beating about the bush so? If I couldn’t get 
 up a better language than those old duffers 
 used to write their books in. I’d lie down and 
 die. I can’t find the old verb to that sentence 
 anyway. Maybe it’s around on the other 
 page somewhere, or maybe Caesar left it out 
 just on purpose to plague us boys.” 
 
 And Will shied the book over to Alice, who 
 good-naturedly began to read, while that 
 much-suffering youth sat down by Bess and 
 began to tease her and Clara. 
 
 “What are you and Clara doing at this 
 time of day ? Time you youngsters were go- 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days, 29 
 
 ing upstairs. Play us a little tune, Bessie, 
 will you? What you been crying for, Clara 
 Vere de Vere?’" 
 
 ‘‘I should think you would be ashamed of 
 yourself. Will, studying on Sunday nights 
 said little Bess reprovingly and with dignity, 
 “No worse than sparking Sunday nights,^^ 
 retorted the incorrigible Will. 
 
 “I haven’t been,” replied Bess, indignantly, 
 
 “Pve been with Clara ” 
 
 “She doesn’t need any help, does she?’^ 
 inquired Will, innocently. And, going over 
 where Clara lay with her face hid in the 
 pillow of a large couch, Will tried to pull 
 the pillow out from under her head. 
 
 “Let me alone, Will. I don’t feel well,” 
 said a muffled voice from the pillow. 
 “Pshaw! you’re fooling!” 
 
 “No, I’m not. Let me alone.” 
 
 “Come here, or I won’t read your sentence 
 for you,” called Alice. And Will reluctantly 
 withdrew, for he knew from experience that 
 Alice would keep her word. 
 
 “All right. Now, go ahead ; not too fast. 
 
30 Robert Hardy sSeven Days. 
 
 Here! Wait a minute! Let me write her 
 down. I don’t intend to miss to-morrow if 
 I can help it. And old Romulus will call 
 me up on this very passage, I know. Be 
 just like him, though, to strike me on the 
 review.” 
 
 At that minute the door opened and in 
 came George, the elder boy, and the oldest 
 of the group of children. He hung up hat 
 and coat and strolled into the room. 
 ‘Where’s mother?” 
 
 “She’s in the other room,” answered Bess. 
 “Father’s been asleep and mother was afraid 
 he was going to have a fever.” 
 
 “That’s one of your stories,” said George, 
 who seemed in a good-natured mood. He 
 sat down and drew his little sister toward 
 him and whispered to her : 
 
 “Say, Bess, I want some money again.” 
 “Awfully?” whispered Bess. 
 
 “Yes; for a special reason. Do you think 
 you could let me have a little ?” 
 
 “Why, of course! Yoii can have all my 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 31 
 
 month's allowance. But why don’t you ask 
 father?" 
 
 ''No; Tve asked him too much lately. He 
 refused point-blank last time. I didn’t like 
 it the way he spoke.” 
 
 "Well, you can have all mine,” said Bess, 
 whispering. 
 
 George and she were great friends, and 
 there was not a thing that Bessie would not 
 have done for her big brother, who was her 
 hero. What he wanted with so much money 
 she never asked. 
 
 They were still whispering together, and 
 Clara had just risen to go upstairs, and Alice 
 and Will had finished the translation, and 
 Will was just on the point of seeing how 
 near he could come to throwing the Com- 
 mentaries of Caesar into an ornamental Jap- 
 anese jar across the room, when Mrs. Hardy 
 parted the curtains at the arch and beckoned 
 her children to come into the next roorn. 
 Her face was exceedingly pale and she was 
 trembling as if with some great terror. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The children all cried out in surprise, and 
 hurried into the next room. But before re- 
 lating what happened there, we will follow 
 Mr. Hardy into the experience he had just 
 after falling asleep upon the lounge by the 
 open fire. 
 
 It seemed to him that he stepped at once 
 from the room where he lay into a place 
 such as he had never seen before, where the 
 one great idea that filled his entire thought 
 was the idea of the Present Moment. Spread 
 out before him, as if reproduced by a phono- 
 graph and a magic lantern combined, was the 
 moving panorama of the entire world. He 
 thought he saw into every home, every public 
 place of business, every saloon and place of 
 amusement, every shop and every farm, 
 every place of industry, amusement and 
 vice upon the face of the globe. And he 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 33 
 
 thought he could hear the world’s conver- 
 sation, catch its sobs of suffering, nay, even 
 catch the meaning of unspoken thoughts of 
 the heart. With that absurd rapidity pecu- 
 liar to certain dreams, he fancied that over 
 every city on the globe was placed a glass 
 cover through which he could look, and 
 through which the sounds of the city’s in- 
 dustry came to him. But he thought that he 
 ascertained that by lifting off one of these 
 covers he could hear with greater distinctness 
 the thoughts of the inhabitants, and see all 
 they were doing and suffering, with the most 
 minute exactness. He looked for the place 
 of his own town, Barton. There it lay in 
 its geographical spot pn the globe, and he 
 thought that, moved by an impulse he could 
 not resist, he lifted off the cover and bent 
 down to see and hear. 
 
 The first thing he saw was his minister’s 
 home. It was just after the Sunday even- 
 ing service, the one which Mr. Hardy had 
 thought so dull. Mr. Jones was talking over 
 the evening with his wife. 
 
34 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 ‘'My dear/' he said, “I feel about dis- 
 couraged. Of what use is all our praying 
 and longing for the Holy Spirit, when our 
 own church members are so cold and un- 
 spirkual that all his influence is destroyed? 
 And you know I made a special plea to all 
 the members to come out to-night, and only 
 a handful there. I feel like giving up the 
 struggle. You know I could make a better 
 living in literary work, and the children could 
 be better cared for then." 
 
 “But, John, it was a bad night to get out; 
 you must remember, that." 
 
 “But only fifty out of a church member- 
 ship of four hundred, most of them living 
 near by! It doesn't seem just right to me." 
 
 “Mr. Hardy was there. Did you see him ?" 
 
 “Yes; after service I went and spoke to 
 him and he treated me very coldly. And yet 
 he is the most wealthy, and in some ways 
 the most gifted, church member we have. 
 He could do great things for the good of 
 this community, if " 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Hardy thought the minister 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 35 
 
 changed into the Sunday-school superintend- 
 ent, and he was walking down the street 
 thinking about his classes in the school, and 
 Mr. Hardy thought he could hear the super- 
 intendent's thoughts, as if his ear were at a 
 phonograph. 
 
 '‘It's too bad ! That class of boys I wanted 
 Mr. Hardy to take left the school because no 
 one could be found to teach them. And now 
 Bob Wilson has got into trouble and been 
 arrested for petty thieving. It will be a ter- 
 rible blow to his poor mother. Oh, why is 
 it that men like Mr. Hardy cannot be made 
 to see the importance of work in the Sunday- 
 school? With his knowledge of chemistry 
 and geology he could have reached that class 
 of boys and invited them to his home, up 
 into his laboratory, and exercised an influ- 
 ence over them they would never outgrow. 
 Oh! it’s a strange thing to me that men of 
 such possibilities do not realize their power !” 
 
 The superintendent passed along shaking 
 his head sorrowfully, and Mr. Hardy, who 
 seemed guided by some power he could not 
 
36 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 resist and compelled to listen whether he liked 
 it or not, next found himself looking into 
 one of the railroad-shop tenements, where 
 the man Scoville was lying, awaiting amputa- 
 tion of both feet after the terrible accident. 
 Scoville^s. wife lay upon a ragged lounge, 
 while Mrs. Hardy’s cook kneeled by her side 
 and in her native Swedish tongue tried to 
 comfort the poor woman. So it was true 
 that these two were sisters. The man was 
 still conscious, and suffering unspeakably. 
 The railroad surgeon had been sent for, but 
 had not arrived. Three or four men and 
 their wives had come in to do what they 
 could. Mr. Burns, the foreman, was among 
 them. One of the men spoke in a whisper 
 to him : 
 
 ^^Have you been to see Mr. Hardy?” 
 
 “Yes; but he was at church. I left word 
 about the accident.” 
 
 “At church ! So even the devil some- 
 times goes to church. What for, I wonder ? 
 Will he be here, think?” 
 
 “Don’t know,” replied Mr. Burns, curtly. 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 37 
 
 you mind when — pointing to Sco- 
 
 ville— ‘‘saved Mr. Hardy^s life?’^ 
 
 “Remember it well enough ; was standing 
 close by.'' 
 
 “What'll! be done with the children when 
 Scoville goes, eh?" 
 
 “Don't know." 
 
 Just then the surgeon came in and prepara- 
 tions were rapidly made for the operation. 
 The last that Mr. Hardy heard was the shriek 
 of the poor wife as she struggled to her feet 
 and fell in a fit across the floor where two 
 of the youngest children clung terrified to her 
 dress, *and the father cried out, tears of 
 agony and despair running down his face, 
 “My God, what a hell this world is !" 
 
 The next scene was a room where every- 
 thing appeared confused at first, but finally 
 grew more distinct and terrible in its signifi- 
 cance, and the first person Mr. Hardy recog- 
 nized was his oldest boy, George, in company 
 with a group of young men engaged in — 
 what ! He rubbed his eyes and stared pain- 
 fully. Yes; they were gambling. So here 
 
38 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 was where George spent all his money, and 
 Bessie’s, too! Nothing that the miserable 
 father had seen so far cut him to the quick 
 quite so sharply as this. He had prided him- 
 self on his own freedom from vices, and had 
 an honest horror of them; for Mr. Hardy is 
 not a monster of iniquity, only an intensely 
 selfish man. Gambling, drinking, impurity 
 — all the physical vices — were to Mr. Hardy 
 the lowest degradation. 
 
 The thought that his own son had fallen 
 into this pit was terrible to him. But he 
 was compelled to look and listen. All the 
 young men were smoking, and beer and wine 
 stood on a buffet at one side of the room 
 and were plentifully partaken of. 
 
 ‘T say, George,” said a very flashily 
 dressed youth who was smoking that inven- 
 tion of the devil, a cigaret, ‘'your old man 
 would rub his eyes to see you here, eh?” 
 
 “Well, I should remark he would,” replied 
 George, as he shuffled the cards and then 
 helped himself to a drink. 
 
 “I say, George,” said the first speaker. 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 39 
 
 ^‘your sister Bess is getting to be a beauty. 
 Introduce me^ will you?'’ 
 
 ‘‘No, I won't," said George, shortly. He 
 had been losing all the evening, and he felt 
 nervous and irritable. 
 
 “Ah ! We are too bad, eh?" 
 
 George made some fierce reply, and the 
 other fellow struck him. Instantly George 
 sprang to his feet and a fight® took place. 
 Mr. Hardy could not bear it any longer. He 
 thought he broke away from the scene by 
 the exercise of a great determination, and 
 next found himself looking into his own 
 home. It seemed to him it was an evening 
 when he and all the children had gone out, 
 and Mrs. Hardy sat alone, looking into the 
 fire as she had been looking before he fell 
 asleep. She was thinking, and her thoughts 
 were like burning coals as they fell into Mr. 
 Hardy's heart and scorched him, as not any 
 scene, not even the last, had done. 
 
 “My husband !" Mrs. Hardy was saying to 
 herself ; “how long it is since he gave me 
 a caress, kissed me when he went to his work, 
 
40 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 or laid his hand lovingly on my cheek as he 
 used to do! How brave and handsome and 
 good I used to think him in the old Vermont 
 days when we were struggling for our little 
 home, and his best thought was of the home 
 and of the wife ! But the years have changed 
 him ; oh, yes ! they have changed him bitterly. 
 I wonder if he realizes my hunger for his af- 
 fection I Ol what value to me are all these 
 baubles wealth brings compared with a loving 
 look, a tender smile, an aflfectionate caress! 
 Oh, Robert I Robert ! Come back to me ! for 
 I am so lonely, so lonely! Would to God 
 all our riches might be taken from us and all 
 our position in society be lost to us ! for I 
 am fast losing my love for him who is my 
 husband ! Great and long-suffering and for- 
 giving God, help me! I feel wicked some- 
 times. I cannot bear this kind of a life. It 
 is killing me! It is robbing me of all that 
 life contains that is sweet and true. Oh, 
 Father of Mercies, for Jesus' sake do not let 
 me grow insane or without belief ! Oh, 
 Robert, Robert! my lover, my husband! I 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 41 
 
 will, I will love you V And Mrs* Harc^ fell 
 on her knees by the side of the couch and 
 buried her face in its cushions and sobbed and 
 prayed. 
 
 Suddenly the whole scene changed, and 
 Mr. Hardy, who had stretched out his arms 
 to comfort his wife as in the old days when 
 love was young, felt himself carried by an 
 irresistible power up away from the earth, 
 past the stars and planets and suns and satel- 
 lites that blazed like gems in space; on, on, 
 for what seemed to him like ages of time, 
 until even the thought of time grew indis- 
 tinct; on and up and into the presence of 
 the most mighty Face he had ever looked 
 into. It was the Face of Eternity. On its 
 brow was written in words of blazing light 
 the one word, ‘‘Now.’^ And as he looked 
 into that calm, awful Face and read that 
 awful word, Mr. Hardy felt his^ soul crumble 
 within him. When the Face spoke it was 
 the speech of a thousand oceans heaved by 
 a million tempests, yet through the terror of 
 it ran a thread of music— a still sweet 
 
42 'Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 sound like everlasting love — as if angels sang 
 wsomewhere a divine accompaniment. And 
 the Face said: 
 
 ^‘Child of humanity, you have neglected 
 and despised me for fifty years. You have 
 lived for yourself. You have been careless 
 and thoughtless of the world's great needs. 
 The time of your redemption is short. It has 
 been granted you by Him who rules the 
 world that you should have but seven more 
 days to live upon the earth — seven days to 
 help redeem your soul from everlasting 
 shame and death. Mortal, see to it that thou 
 usest the precious time like those who toil for 
 jewels in the mine beneath the sea. I who 
 speak unto thee am Eternity." 
 
 Then Robert Hardy thought he fell upon 
 his face before that awful Face and begged 
 in bitterest terror for a longer lease of life. 
 
 '"Seven days! Why, it will be but seven 
 swift seconds to redeem my past! Seven 
 days ! It will be a nothing in the marking of 
 time! O mighty Power, grant me longer! 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 43 
 
 Seven weeks ! Seven years ! And I will live 
 for thee as never mortal yet lived V 
 And Robert Hardy sobbed and held his 
 arms beseechingly up toward that most re- 
 splendent Face. And as he thus stretched 
 out his arms, the Face bent down toward 
 his, and he thought a smile of pity gleamed 
 upon it, and he hoped that more time would 
 be granted him ; and then, as it came nearer, 
 he suddenly awoke, and there was his own 
 wife bending over him, and a tear from her 
 face fell upon his own as she said: 
 
 ''Robert ! Robert T’ 
 
 Mr. Hardy sat up confused and trembling. 
 Then he clasped his wife to him and kissed 
 her as he used to do. And then to her great 
 amazement he related to her in a low tone 
 the dream he had just had. Mrs. Hardy lis- 
 tened in the most undisguised astonishment. 
 But what followed filled her heart with fear. 
 
 "Mary,’’ said her husband with the utmost 
 solemnity, "I cannot regard this as a dream 
 alone. I have awakened with the firm con- 
 viction that I have only seven days left to 
 
44 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 live. I feel that God has spoken to me ; and 
 I have only seven days more to do my work 
 in this world/’ 
 
 ‘‘O Robert! it was only a dream.” 
 
 ‘'No; it was more, Mary. You know I am 
 not imaginative or superstitious in the least. 
 You know I never dream. And this was 
 something else. I shall die out of this world 
 a week from to-night. Are the children here? 
 Call them in.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy spoke in a tone of such calm 
 conviction that Mrs. Hardy was filled with 
 wonder and fear. She went to the curtain, 
 and, as we have already recorded, she called 
 the children into the other room. 
 
 Mr. Hardy gazed upon his children with 
 a look they had not seen upon his face for 
 years. Briefly but calmly he related his ex- 
 perience, omitting the details of the vision 
 and all mention of the scene where George 
 had appeared, and then declared with a 
 solemnity and impressiveness that could not 
 be resisted : 
 
 “My dear children, I have not lived as I 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 45 
 
 should. I have not been to you the father 
 I ought to have been. I have lived a very sel- 
 fish, useless life. I have only seveq, more 
 days to live. God has spoken to me. I am 
 
 He broke off suddenly, and, sobbing as 
 only a strong man can, he drew his wife to- 
 ward him and caressed her, while Bess crept 
 up and put her arms about her father's neck. 
 
 The terrible suspicion shot into Mrs. 
 Hardy's mind that her husband was insane. 
 The children were terrified ; only Alice 
 seemed to catch the reflection of her moth- 
 er's thought. At the same time Mr. Hardy 
 seemed to feel the suspicion held by them. 
 
 ‘‘No," he said, as if in answer to a spoken 
 charge, “I am not insane. I never was more 
 calm. I am in possession of all my faculties. 
 But I have looked into the Face of Eternity 
 this night and I know, I know that in seven 
 days God will require my soul. Mary," he 
 turned to his wife with the most beseeching 
 cry, “Mary, do you believe me?" 
 
 She looked into her husband's face and 
 
46 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 saw there the old look. Reason, the noblest 
 of all gifts, shone out of that noble face now 
 lighted up with the old love, and standing on 
 the brink of the other world. And Mrs. 
 Hardy, looking her husband in the face, re- 
 plied : 
 
 ''Yes, Robert; I believe you. You may be 
 mistaken in this impression about the time 
 left you to live, but you are not insane.'’ 
 
 "O God, I thank thee for that!" cried Mr. 
 Hardy. 
 
 Often during the most remarkable week 
 he ever lived Mr. Hardy reposed in that im- 
 plicit belief of his wife in his sanity. 
 
 There was a pause. Then Mr. Hardy asked 
 George to bring the Bible. He then read 
 from John's Gospel that matchless prayer of 
 Christ in the seventeenth chapter; and then 
 kneeling down, he prayed as he had never 
 prayed before, that in the week allotted him 
 to live he might know how to bless the world 
 and serve his Master best. And when he 
 arose and looked about upon his wife and 
 children, it was with the look of one who 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 47 
 
 has been into the very presence chamber of 
 the only living God. At the same moment, 
 so fast had the time gone in the excitement, 
 the clock upon the mantel struck the hour 
 of midnight— and the first of Robert Hardy’s 
 seven days had begun! 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 n 
 
 When Mr. Hardy woke on the morning 
 of the first of the seven days left him to 
 live, he was on the point of getting ready for 
 his day’s business, as usual, when the mem- 
 ory of his dream flashed upon him and he 
 was appalled to decide what he should do 
 first. Breakfast was generally a hurried and 
 silent meal with him. The children usually 
 came straggling down at irregular intervals, 
 and it was very rare that the family all sat 
 down together. This morning Mr. Hardy 
 waited until all had appeared, and while they 
 were eating he held a family council. 
 
 His wife was evidently in great excitement 
 and anxiety, and yet the love and tenderness 
 she felt Coming back to her from her husband 
 gave her face a look of beauty that had been 
 a stranger to it for years. 
 
 The children were affected by their father’s 
 remarkable change in various ways. George 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 49 
 
 was sullen and silent. Will looked thought- 
 ful and troubled. Alice, a girl of very strong 
 and decided opinions and character, greeted 
 her father with a kiss and seemed to under- 
 stand the new relations he now sustained to 
 them all. Clara appeared terrified, as if death 
 had already come into the house, and several 
 times she broke down crying at the table, and 
 finally went away into the sitting room. Bess 
 sat next to her father, as she always did, and 
 was the most cheerful of all, taking a very 
 calm and philosophical view of the situation, 
 so that Mr. Hardy smiled once or twice as 
 she gave her advice. 
 
 Mr. Hardy was pale but calm. The im- 
 pression of the night before was evidently 
 deepening with.him. It would have been ab- 
 surd to call him insane. His wife was obliged 
 to confess to herself that he had never ap- 
 peared more sound in judgment and calm in 
 speech. He was naturally a man of very 
 strong will. Hi^ passions, as we have al- 
 ready seen, were under control. Never in all 
 his life had he felt so self-contained, so free 
 
50 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 from nervousness, so capable of sustained ef- 
 fort. But the one great thought that filled 
 his mind was the thought of the shortness of 
 the time. 
 
 '‘Almighty God,'^ was his prayer, "show 
 me how to use these seven days in the wisest 
 and best manner.'' 
 
 "Robert, what will you do to-day?" asked 
 Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 "I have been thinking, dear, and I believe 
 my first duty is to God. We have not had 
 morning worship together for a long time. 
 After we have knelt as a family in prayer to 
 Him, I believe He will give me wisdom to 
 know what I ought to do." 
 
 "I think father ought to stay at home with 
 us all the time," said Bess. 
 
 "Robert," said Mrs. Hardy, who could not 
 comprehend the full meaning of the situation 
 much better than little Bess, "will you give 
 up your business? How can you attend to 
 it? Will you have the strength and the pa- 
 tience while laboring under this impression ?" 
 
 "I have already thought over that. Yes ; 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 51 
 
 I believe I ought to go right on. I don't see 
 what would be gained by severing my con- 
 nection with the company." 
 
 ''Will you tell the company you have only 
 
 " Mt*s. Hardy could not say the words. 
 
 They choked her. 
 
 "What would you do, Alice?" asked her 
 father, turning to his oldest daughter, who, 
 although a cripple, had more than once re- 
 vealed to the family great powers of judg- 
 ment and decision. 
 
 "I would not say anything to the company 
 about it," replied Alice finally. 
 
 "That is the way I feel," said Mr. Hardy 
 with a nod of approval. "They would not 
 understand it. My successor in the office 
 will be young Wellman, in all probability, and 
 he is perfectly competent to carry on the 
 work. I feel as if this matter were one that 
 belonged to the family. I shall, of course, ar- 
 range my business affairs with reference to 
 the situation, and George can give me half a 
 day for the details. But you know, Mary, I 
 have always kept my business in such shape 
 
52 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 that in any case of accident or sudden death 
 matters could easily be arranged. Thank God ! 
 I shall not have to take time for those mat- 
 ters that I ought to give to more serious and 
 important duties.’’ 
 
 It was true that Mr. Hardy, always a man 
 of very methodical habits in a business way, 
 had always arranged his affairs with refer- 
 ence to accidental removal. His business as 
 manager necessitated his being on the road a 
 great deal, and he realized, as many railroad 
 men do realize, the liability of sudden death. 
 
 But such a thought had not had any influ- 
 ence on his actions to make him less selfish. 
 He had thought, as all men do, that he should 
 probably live right along after all ; that death 
 might take the engineer or conductor or fire- 
 man, but would pass him by. 
 
 Suddenly Will spoke up : ‘‘Father, do you 
 want George and me to leave college?” 
 
 “Certainly not, my boy. What would be 
 gained by that? I want you to keep right 
 on just as if I were going to live fifty years 
 
 more. 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 53 
 
 George did not say anything. He looked 
 at his father as if he doubted his sanity. 
 
 His father noticed the look and a terrible 
 wave of anguish swept over him as he re- 
 called the part of his vision in which he had 
 seen his oldest son in the gambling room. 
 
 Again the prayer he had been silently 
 praying all the morning went up out of his 
 heart : ''Almighty God, show me how to use 
 the seven days most wisely.^’ 
 
 "Father/' said Bess suddenly, "what will . 
 you do about Jim and Clara? Did you know 
 they were engaged?" 
 
 "Bess!" said Clara, passionately. Then 
 she stopped suddenly, and seeing her father's 
 brow grow dark, she cowered, afraid of what 
 was coming. 
 
 But Mr. Hardy looked at the world dif- 
 ferently this morning. Twenty-four hours 
 before he would have treated Bessie's remark 
 as he usually treated her surprising revela- 
 tions of the secrets of the family. He would 
 have laughed at it a little, and sternly com- 
 
54 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 <* 
 
 mandecl Clara to break the engagement, if 
 there was one, at once: for James Caxton 
 was not at all the sort of man Mr. Hardy 
 wanted to have come into the family. He 
 was poor, to begin with, and, more than all, 
 his father had been the means of defeating 
 MVi Hardy in a municipal election where a 
 place of influence and honor was in dispute. 
 Mr. Hardy had never forgotten or forgiven 
 it. When he began to see his children inti- 
 mate with the Caxtons, he tried to forbid 
 their going to the house, with the result al- 
 ready described. 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at Clara and said very 
 tenderly: '‘Clara, we must have a good talk 
 about this. You know your father loves you 
 
 and wants you to be happy and Mr. 
 
 Hardy stopped in his emotion, and Clara 
 burst into tears and left the table. 
 
 "Come,’' cried Mr. Hardy, after a moment, 
 during which no one seemed inclined to 
 speak ; "let us ask God to give us all wisdom 
 at this time.” 
 
 George made a motion as if to go out. 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days, 55 
 
 ‘'My son/' called Mr. Hardy after him, 
 gently, “won't you stay with the rest of us?" 
 
 George sat down with a shamefaced look, 
 Alice and Clara came back, and Mr. Hardy 
 read that famous sixth chapter of Ephesians 
 beginning, “Children, obey your parents in 
 the Lord." Then in a brief but earnest prayer 
 he asked God's help and blessing on all the 
 day, and rose to face it, the great burden 
 of his responsibility beginning to rest upon 
 him for the first time. He sat down for a 
 moment by his wife and kissed her, putting 
 his arms about her, while Bess climbed up on 
 the side of the couch and the boys stood ir- 
 resolute and wondering. Any outward mark 
 of affection was so unusual on the part of 
 their father that they felt awkward in the 
 presence of it. Mrs. Hardy was almost over- 
 come. 
 
 “O Robert, I cannot bear it ! Surely it was 
 nothing more than a dream. It couldn't have 
 been anything more. You are not going to 
 be called away from us so soon." 
 
56 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 “Mary, I would God that I had seven years 
 to atone for my neglect and selfishness to- 
 ward you alone. But I am certain that God 
 has granted me but seven days. I must act. 
 God help me! Boys, you will be late. We 
 will all be at home this evening. Alice, care 
 for your mother and cheer her up. You are 
 a good girl and ” 
 
 Again Mr. Hardy broke down as he 
 thought of the many years he had practically 
 ignored this brave, strong, uncomplaining 
 nature in his own house, and remorse tore 
 him fiercely as he recalled how he had prac- 
 tically discouraged all the poor' girl’s ambi- 
 tious efforts to make her way as an artist, not 
 on account of the expense — for Mr. Hardy 
 was not a niggard in that respect — ^but be- 
 cause he had a false idea concerning the pro- 
 fession. He looked at the girl now as she 
 limped across the floor to her mother, her 
 pale, intellectual face brightened by her love 
 and her eyes shining with tears at her fa- 
 ther’s unusual praise. “O God,” was the in- 
 ner cry of Mr. Hardy’s heart, “what have I 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 57 
 
 not neglected when I had it in my power to 
 create so much happiness I” 
 
 The thought almost unnerved him; and 
 for a moment he felt like sitting down to do 
 nothing. But only for a moment. He rose 
 briskly, went out into the hall and put on his 
 overcoat, and coming back a moment said, 
 ‘T am going down to see poor Scoville the 
 first thing. I shall be so busy you must not 
 look for me at lunch. But I will be back to 
 six o’clock dinner. Good-by !” He kissed his 
 wife tenderly and she clung to him sobbing. 
 Then he kissed his daughters, a thing he had 
 not done since they were babies, and shook 
 hands with the boys and marched out like 
 one going to execution, something bright 
 glistening in his own eyes. 
 
 Ah ! ye fathers and husbands, you who are 
 toiling for the dear ones at home, how many 
 of you have grown so unaccustomed to the 
 tender affections of home that your own wife 
 would almost faint and think something was 
 going to happen to you if you kissed her 
 good-by when you went away to your work 
 
58 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 in the morning ! How do you know that she 
 who has been your faithful friend and lover 
 all these years, and nursed you through 
 peevish sickness and done a thousand things 
 every day for you without so much as a word 
 of thanks or praise on your part — how do 
 you know she does not care for these demon- 
 strations of affection? And if she does not, 
 how does it happen except through neglect? 
 Call it not a little thing. It is of such little 
 things that heaven is made, and it is of the 
 home where such little things are found that 
 it can truly be said, 'Xove is master, and the 
 evil one cannot find an entrance to blot with 
 his foul tread the sweetest thing on earth.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy hurried down toward the tene- 
 ment where Ward Scoville lived, revolving 
 in his mind as he went along plans for his 
 future happiness and comfort. 
 
 *T11 deed him the place where he lives and 
 arrange it in some way so that he won’t have 
 to go to the hospital or come on the county 
 when his poor wife is gone. It will be the 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days. 59 
 
 best I can do for him. Poor fellow! What 
 a shame I did not come down last night ! And 
 his wife a hopeless invalid and the oldest 
 child only four years old, Mary said V* 
 
 He was surprised as he drew near the 
 house to see a group of men standing there 
 outside and talking together earnestly. As 
 Mr. Hardy came up they stood aside to let 
 him pass, but were barely civil. 
 
 ‘‘Well, Stevens,'' Mr. Hardy inquired of 
 one of the men, recognizing him as one of 
 the employees in the casting room, “how is 
 Scoville this morning?" 
 
 “Dead!" 
 
 Mr. Hardy reeled as if struck in the breast 
 with a heavy blow. 
 
 “Dead, did you say?" 
 
 “He died about an hour ago," said one of 
 the other men. “The surgeon was late in 
 getting around, and after the amputation it 
 was ascertained that Scoville had received 
 severe internal injuries." 
 
 “Was he conscious?" Mr. Hardy asked 
 
6o Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 the question mechanically, but all the while 
 his mind was in a whirl of remorse. 
 
 ‘‘Yes ; up to the last moment.’’ 
 
 Mr. .Hardy went up to the door and 
 knocked. A woman, one of the neighbors, 
 opened it and he went in. The sight stunned 
 him. The dead man had been removed to a 
 rear room, but his wife lay upon the very 
 same ragged lounge Mr. Hardy had seen in 
 his dream. The surgeon was bending over 
 her. The room was full of neighbors. 
 
 The surgeon suddenly arose and, turning 
 about, spoke in a quiet but decided tone: 
 
 “Now, then, good people, just go home, 
 will you, for a while! And suppose some 
 of you take these children along with you. 
 You can’t do anything more now and your 
 presence disturbs the woman ! Ah, Mr. 
 Hardy!” he exclaimed, seeing the manager, 
 ^'you here? This is a sad business. Come, 
 now, ladies, I must ask you to retire.” 
 Everybody went out except the surgeon, 
 the poor woman’s sister, and Mr. Hardy. He 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 6i 
 
 drew the surgeon over to the window and in- 
 quired concerning the particulars. Mr. 
 Hardy had received a shock at the very first 
 and he trembled violently. 
 
 ‘‘Well, you see,’’ explained the surgeon, 
 “Scoville was a dead man from the minute of 
 the accident. Nothing could have saved him. 
 When the accident happened I was down at 
 Bayville attending the men who were in- 
 jured in the wreck last Saturday. I tele- 
 graphed that I would come at once. But 
 there was a delay on the road, and I did not 
 get here until three o’clock in the morning. 
 Meanwhile everything had been done that 
 was possible. But nothing could save the 
 poor fellow. This shock will kill his wife. 
 I doubt if she lives through the day.” 
 
 “What will be done with the children?’^ 
 Mr. Hardy asked the question mechanically, 
 again feeling the need of time to think out 
 what was best to be done. The surgeon 
 shrugged his shoulders. He was accustomed 
 to scenes of suffering and distress continu- 
 ally. 
 
6z Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 ^'Orphans' Home, I suppose,’' he replied, 
 laconically. 
 
 A movement and a moan from the woman 
 called him to her side, and Mr. Hardy, left 
 alone, he thought a moment, then stepped 
 over to the surgeon and asked him if he could 
 go into the other room and see the dead man. 
 The surgeon nodded a surprised assent, and 
 Mr. Hardy stepped into the rear room and 
 closed the door. He drew back the sheet 
 from the face of the man and looked down 
 upon it. Nothing in all his experience had 
 ever moved him so deeply. The features of 
 the dead man were fixed, it seemed to him, 
 in an expression of despair. Mr. Hardy 
 gazed steadily upon it for half a minute, then 
 replacing the sheet he kneeled down by the 
 side of the rude bed and prayed God for 
 mercy. Lord,” he groaned in his remorse, 
 “lay not the death of this man to my charge !” 
 Yet, even as he prayed, he could not drive 
 back the thought which chased across the 
 prayer, “I am this man’s murderer. I issued 
 the order compelling the Sunday work. I re- 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 63 
 
 fused a week ago to inspect the retorts which 
 were declared unsafe, on the ground that it 
 v/as not my business. I compelled this man 
 to work under the fear of losing his place if 
 he refused to work. I compelled him to work 
 on the one day in which God has commanded 
 all men to rest. I, a Christian by profession, 
 a member of the church,, a man of means — I 
 put this man in deadly peril upon a Sunday 
 in order that more money might be made and 
 more human selfishness might be gratified. I 
 did it. x\nd this man once saved my life. I 
 am his murderer, and no murderer shall in- 
 herit the kingdom of God.’’ 
 
 So the wretched man prayed there by the 
 side of that cold body. Yet the world to-day 
 goes on with men in high places who have it 
 in their power to change the conditions that 
 exact Sunday labor from thousands of weary 
 men and drive the commerce of the world 
 across the continent at the cost of that price- 
 less thing, the soul of man, in order that the 
 owners of railroad stock and the men who 
 get their salaried living from it may have 
 
64 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 more money. What ! is it not true that every 
 Sunday in this land of Christian homes and 
 hearts many and many a well-fed, sleek, self- 
 satisfied, well-dressed man, with a high sal- 
 ary and well-established social position, with 
 a luxurious home and money in the bank, 
 goes to church and sits down in a softly 
 cushioned pew to listen to the preaching of 
 the gospel, while within hearing distance of 
 the services an express train or a freight 
 thunders by upon the road which declares the 
 dividends that make that man’s wealth possi- 
 ble? On those trains are groups of coal-be- 
 grimed human beings who never go inside a 
 church, who never speak the name of God or 
 Christ except in an oath, who lead lives that 
 are as destitute of spiritual nourishment as a 
 desert of sand and rocks, and who are com- 
 pelled to labor contrary to God’s everlasting 
 law of rest, in order that man may have more 
 to feed his body and indulge his passions! 
 Do not tell us it is necessary labor. It is la- 
 bor for the making of more money. It does 
 not need to be done. The community could 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 65 
 
 dispense with it ; and in the .sight of God it 
 is a wicked use of human flesh and blood and 
 souls ; and the starved spiritual natures of 
 these men will come up at the Judgment Day 
 before the men who had it in their power to 
 say, ‘‘Not a wheel shall turn on these tracks 
 Sunday, even if we don’t make a little more 
 money,” Money or souls ! Which is worth 
 more in the thought of the railroad corpora- 
 tion? Let the facts make answer. 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not know just how long he 
 kneeled there in that bare room. At last he 
 arose weariedly and came out ; but his prayer 
 had not refreshed him. The surgeon glanced 
 at him inquisitively but asked no questions. 
 The sick woman was in a state of semi-con- 
 sciousness. Mr. Hardy^s cook, her sister, sat 
 listlessly and worn out by the side of the 
 lounge. The surgeon rapidly gave directions 
 for the use of some medicine and prepared to 
 go. Some of the neighbors called and the 
 surgeon let two of the women come in. Just 
 as the two- men were going out together, Mr. 
 Hardy still absorbed in his great desire to do 
 
66 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 something of importance for the mother and 
 her children, his minister, Mr. Jones, ap- 
 peared. 
 
 He looked surprised at seeing Mr. Hardy, 
 inquired the news of the doctor, and at once 
 asked if he could see the poor widow. The 
 doctor thought it would do no harm. Mr. 
 Jones whispered to Mr. Hardy: 
 
 ''She was a faithful member of our church, 
 you know.’' 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not know it, to his shame, 
 he confessed. This sister of his in Christ 
 had been a member of the same church and 
 he had not even known it. If she had hap- 
 pened to sit on the same side of the build- 
 ing where he sat, he would probably have 
 wondered who that plain-looking person was, 
 dressed so poorly. But she had always sat 
 back on the other side, being one of a few 
 poor women who had been attracted into the 
 church and been comforted by Mr. Jones^ 
 simple piety and prayers. 
 
 The minister kneeled down and said a gen- 
 tle word to the woman. Then as if in reply 
 
Robert Hardy* s Seven Days, 67 
 
 to a low-voiced request he began a prayer 
 of remarkable beauty and comfort. Mr. 
 Hardy wondered, as he listened, that he could 
 ever have thought this man dull in the pulpit. 
 He sat down and sobbed as the prayer went 
 on and took to himself the consolation of that 
 heavenly petition. When Mr. Jones rose, 
 Mr. Hardy still sat with his hands over his 
 face. The surgeon was called out by some 
 one. Then the minister, after making ar- 
 rangements with the women who had come 
 in for the funeral of Scoville, started to go 
 out, when Mr. Hardy rose and they went 
 away together. 
 
 ‘'Mr. Jones,'’ said Mr. Hardy as they 
 walked along, ‘T have an explanation and a 
 confession to make. I haven't time to make 
 it now, but I want to say that I have met God 
 face to face within the past twenty-four 
 hours, and I am conscious for the first time 
 in years of the intensely selfish life I have 
 lived. I need your prayers and help. And I 
 want to serve the church and do my duty 
 there as I have never before done it. I have 
 
68 Robert Hardy s Seven Days, 
 
 not supported your work as I should. I want 
 you to think of me this week as ready to help 
 in anything in my power. Will you accept 
 my apology for my contempt of your request 
 a week ago? I will come into the meeting 
 Thursday night and help in any way possi- 
 ble.^’ 
 
 Mr. Jones’ eyes filled with tears. He 
 grasped Mr. Hardy’s hand and said simply, 
 ''Brother, God bless you! Let me be of 
 service to you in any way I can.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy felt a little better for the par- 
 tial confession, and parted with his minister 
 at the next corner, going down to his office. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was now ten o'clock and the day 
 seemed to him cruelly brief for the work 
 he had to do. He entered the office, and al- 
 most the first thing he saw on his desk was 
 the following letter, addressed to him, but 
 written in a disguised hand: 
 
 Mr. Hardy — Us in the casting room don't 
 need no looking after, but maybe the next pot 
 of hot iron that explodes will be next the 
 offis if you thinks we have bodies but no sols 
 some morning you will wake up beleving an- 
 other thing. We ain't so easy led as sum 
 supposes. Better look to house and employ 
 spesul patrol ; if you do we will blak his face 
 for him. 
 
 There was no signature to this threatening 
 scrawl, which was purposely misspelled and 
 
70 Robert Hardy'^s Seven Days, 
 
 ungrammatically composed. Mr. Hardy had 
 received threats before and paid little atten- 
 tion to them. He prided himself on his steady 
 nerves and his contempt of all such methods 
 used to sckre him. Only a coward, he rea- 
 soned, would ever write an anonymous letter 
 of such a character. > Still, this morning he 
 felt disturbed. His peculiar circumstances 
 made the whole situation take on a more 
 vivid coloring. Besides all that, he could not 
 escape the conviction that he was in a cer- 
 tain sense responsible for the accident in the 
 casting room. It was not his particular busH 
 ness to inspect machinery. But his attention 
 had been called to it, and he felt now as if he 
 had been criminally careless in not making 
 the inspection in the absence of the regular 
 officer. An investigation of the accident 
 would free Mr. Hardy from legal responsi- 
 bility. But in the sight of God he felt that he 
 was morally guilty. At this moment Mr. 
 Burns came in. He looked sullen and spoke 
 in a low tone : 
 
 ''Only half the men are back this morning, 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days, 71 
 
 sir. Scoville's death and the injuries of the 
 others have had a bad effect on the men.'' 
 
 Mr. Hardy crumpled the letter nervously 
 in his hand. 
 
 ''Mr. Burns, I would like to apologize to 
 you for my neglect of the injured men. Who 
 are they, and how badly are they hurt ?" 
 
 Burns looked surprised, but made answer^ 
 describing briefly the accidents. Mr. Hardy 
 listened intently with bowed head. At last 
 he looked up and said abruptly : 
 
 "Come into the casting room." 
 
 They went out of the office, passed • 
 through the repairing shops, and entered the 
 foundry department. Even on that bright 
 winter morning, with the air outside so clear 
 and cool, the atmosphere in this place was 
 murky and close. The forges in the black- 
 smith room at the farther end glowed 
 through the smoke and dust like smoldering 
 piles of rubbish dumped here and there by 
 chance upon some desolate moor and stirred 
 by ill-omened demons of the nether world. 
 Mr. Hardy shuddered as he thought of 
 
72 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 standing in such an atmosphere all day to 
 work at severe muscular toil. He recalled 
 with sharp vividness a request made only 
 two months before for dust fans which had 
 proved successful in other shops, and which 
 would remove a large part of the heavy, coal- 
 laden air, supplying fresh air in its place. The 
 company had refused the request, and had 
 even said through one of its officers that 
 when the men wore out the company could 
 easily get more. 
 
 Mr. Hardy and the foreman paused at the 
 entrance to the casting room where the men 
 had been injured the day before. A few men 
 were working sullenly. Mr. Hardy asked the 
 foreman to call the men together near the 
 other end of the room; he wanted to say 
 something to them. He walked over there 
 while the foreman spoke to the men. They 
 dropped their tools and came over to where 
 Mr. Hardy was standing. They were mostly 
 Scandinavians and Germans, with a sprink- 
 ling of Irish and Americans. Mr. Hardy 
 looked at them thoughtfully. They were a 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 73 
 
 hard-looking crowd. Then he said, very 
 slowly and distinctly: 
 
 ‘'You may quit work until after Scoville's 
 funeral. The machinery here needs overhaul- 
 
 The men stood impassive for a moment. 
 Finallv a big Dane stepped up and said: 
 
 “We be no minded to quit work these 
 times. We no can afford it. Give us work 
 in some other place.'’ 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at him and replied 
 quietly : 
 
 “The wages will go on just the same while 
 you are out." 
 
 There was a perceptible stir among the 
 men. They looked confused and incredulous. 
 Mr. Hardy still looked at them thoughtfully. 
 
 Finally the big Dane stepped forward 
 again and said, speaking more respectfully 
 than he did at first : 
 
 “Mr. Hardy, we be thinking maybe you 
 would like to help towards him the family 
 of the dead and others as be hurt. I been 
 'pointed to take up purse for poor fellows in- 
 
74 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 
 
 jured. We all take hand in’t. My brother be 
 one lose his two eyes/’ 
 
 A tear actually rolled down the grimy 
 cheek of the big fellow and dropped into the 
 coal-dust at his feet. Mr. Hardy realized 
 that he was looking at a brother man. He 
 choked down a sob, and putting his hand in 
 his pocket pulled out all the change he had 
 and poured it into the Dane’s hand. Then 
 seeing that it was only four or five dollars, 
 be pulled out his purse and emptied that of 
 its bills, while Burns, the foreman, and all the 
 men looked on in stupefied wonder. 
 
 ‘^No, no thanks ! I’ll do something more.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked away, feeling as if the 
 ground were heavy under him. What was 
 all his money compared with that life which 
 had been sacrificed in that gas-poisoned 
 sepulcher! He could not banish from his 
 mind the picture of that face as it looked to 
 him when he drew back the sheet and looked 
 at it. 
 
 He hurried back to the office through the 
 yard and sat down at the well-worn desk. 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 75 
 
 The mail had come in and half a dozen let- 
 ters lay there. What did it all amount to, 
 this grind of business, when the heartache 
 of the world called for so much sympathy ! 
 Then over him came the sense of his obliga- 
 tions to his family : Clara's need of a father's 
 help ; George going to the bad ; Alice in need 
 of sympathy; his wife weeping even now at 
 home; the church and Sunday-school where 
 he had been of so little use ; the family of 
 Scoville to be provided for ; the other injured 
 men to be visited ; improvements for the wel- 
 fare of the men in the shops to be looked 
 after; and the routine of his business — all 
 these things crowded in upon him, and still 
 he saw the face and heard the voice of Eter- 
 nity: ‘'Seven days more to live!" 
 
 He sank into a reverie for a moment. He 
 was roused by the sounding of the noon 
 whistle. What, noon already? So swiftly 
 had the time gone! He turned to his desk, 
 bewildered, and picked up his letters, glanced 
 over them hurriedly, and then gave directions 
 for the answers of some of them to his im- 
 
76 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 patient clerk, who had been wondering at 
 his employer’s strange behavior this morn- 
 ing. Among the letters was one which made 
 his cheek burn wdth self-reproach. It was an 
 invitation to a club dinner to be given that 
 evening in honor of some visiting railroad 
 president. 
 
 It was just such an occasion as he had en- 
 joyed very many times before, and the recol- 
 lection brought to mind the number of times 
 he had gone away from his own home and 
 left his wife sitting drearily by the fire. How 
 could he have done it ! He tossed the gilded 
 invitation fiercely into the waste basket, and 
 rising, walked his room, thinking, thinking. 
 He had so much to do and so little time to do 
 it in ! He thought thus a moment, then went 
 out and walked rapidly over to the hotel 
 V'here he was in the habit of getting lunch 
 when he did not go home. He ate a little, 
 hurriedly, and then hastened out. 
 
 As he was going out upon the sidewalk 
 two young men came in and jostled against 
 him. They were smoking and talking in a 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days, 77 
 
 loud tone. Mr. Hardy caught the sound of 
 his own name. He looked at the speaker, and 
 it was the face of the young man he had seen 
 ill his dream, the one who had insulted 
 George and struck him afterwards. For a 
 moment Mr. Hardy was tempted to confront 
 the youth and inquire into his son's habits. 
 
 ''No," he said to himself, after a pause; "I 
 will have a good talk with George himself. 
 That will be the best." 
 
 He hurried back to the office and arranged 
 some necessary work for his clerk, took a 
 walk through the other office, then went, to 
 the telephone and called up the superintend- 
 ent of the Sunday-school, who was a book- 
 keeper in a clothing house. He felt an in- 
 tense desire to arrange for an interview with 
 him as soon as possible. Word camq;. back 
 from the house that the superintendent had 
 been called out of town by serious illness in 
 his old home and would not be back until 
 Saturday. Mr. Hardy felt a disappointment 
 more keen than the occasion seemed to war- 
 rant. He was conscious that the time was 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 very brief. He had fully made up his mind 
 that so far as in him lay he would redeem 
 bis selfish past and make a week such as few 
 men ever made. He was just beginning to 
 realize that circumstances are not always in 
 our control. We are all obliged to wait for 
 time to do some things. We cannot redeem 
 seven years of selfishness with seven days of 
 self-denial. The death of Scoville revealed 
 to Mr. Hardy his powerlessness in the face 
 of certain possibilities. He now feared that 
 the superintendent would fail to return in 
 time to let him confess to him his just sorrow 
 for his lack of service in the school. He sat 
 down to his desk and under that impulse 
 wrote a letter that expressed in part how he 
 felt. Then he jotted down the following items 
 to be referred to the proper authorities of the 
 road : 
 
 Item I. The dust in the blacksmith shop 
 and in the brass-polishing rooms is largely 
 unnecessary. The new Englefield revolving 
 rolling fans and elevator ought to be intro- 
 duced in both departments. The cost will be 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days. 79 
 
 but an item to the road, and would prolong 
 the life and add to the comfort of the em- 
 ployes. Very important. 
 
 Item 2. Organized and intelligent effort 
 should be made by all railroad corporations to 
 lessen Sunday work in shops and on the road. 
 All perishable freight should be so handled 
 as to call for the services of as few men on 
 Sunday as possible, and excursion and pas- 
 senger trains should be discontinued, except 
 in cases of unavoidable necessity. 
 
 Item 3. The inspection of boilers, retorts, 
 castings, machinery of all kinds should be 
 made by thoroughly competent and respon- 
 sible men, who shall answer for all unneces- 
 sary accidents by swift and severe punish- 
 ment in case of loss of life or limb. 
 
 Item 4. In case of injury or death to em- 
 ployes, if incurred through the neglect of the 
 company to provide safety, it should provide 
 financial relief for the families thus injured, 
 or stricken by death, and so far as possible 
 arrange for their future. 
 
 Item 5. Any well-organized railroad could 
 
8o Robert Hardy'^s Seven Days. 
 
 with profit to its employes have upon its staff 
 of salaried men a corps of chaplains or 
 preachers, whose business it would be to look 
 after the religious interests of the employes. 
 
 Under this last item Mr. Hardy wrote in a 
 footnote: ‘'Discuss feasibility of this with 
 Mr. B , influential director.'' 
 
 It was now three o'clock. The short win- 
 ter day was fast drawing to a close. The 
 hum of the great engine in the machine shop 
 was growing very wearisome to the man- 
 ager. He felt sick of its throbbing tremor 
 and longed to escape from it. Ordinarily he 
 would have gone to the club-room and had 
 a game of chess with a member, or else he 
 would have gone down and idled away an 
 hour or two before supper at the Art Mu- 
 seum, where he was a constant visitor, that 
 w^as when he had plenty of time and the 
 business of the office was not pressing. 
 Young Wellman, however, had succeeded to 
 the clerical details of the shops, and Mr. 
 Hardy's time was generally free after four. 
 
 He had been oppressed with the thought 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 8i 
 
 of the other injured men. He must go and 
 see them. He could not rest till he had per- 
 sonally visited them. He went out and easily 
 ascertained where the men lived. Never be- 
 fore did the contrast between the dull, unin- 
 teresting row of shop tenements and his own 
 elegant home rise up so sharply before him. 
 In fact, he had never given it much thought 
 before. Now, as he looked forward to the 
 end of the week, he knew that at its close 
 he would be no richer, no better able to enjoy 
 luxuries than the dead man lying in No. 760, 
 he wondered vaguely but passionately how 
 he could make use of what he had heaped 
 together to make the daily lives of some of 
 these poor men happier. 
 
 He found the man who had lost both eyes 
 sitting up in bed and feeling in a pathetic 
 manner of a few blocks of wood which one 
 of the children in the room had brought to 
 him.. He was a big, powerful man like his 
 brother, the large-boned Dane, and it seemed 
 a very pitiful thing that he should be lying 
 there like a baby when his muscles were as 
 
82 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 powerful as ever. The brother was in the 
 room with the injured man and he said to 
 him : 
 
 ‘‘Olaf, Mr. Hardy come to see you.’' 
 “Hardy? Hardy?” queried the man in a 
 peevish tone. “What do I know him to be?” 
 “The manager. The one who donate so 
 really much moneys to you.” 
 
 “Ah?” with an indescribable accent. “He 
 make me work on a Sunday. He lose me my 
 two eyes. A bad man, Svord! I will no 
 have anything to do with him.” 
 
 And the old descendant of a thousand 
 kings turned his face to the wall, and would 
 not even so much as make a motion toward 
 his visitor. His brother offered a rude apol- 
 ogy. Mr. Hardy replied in a low tone : 
 
 “Say nothing about it. I deserve all your 
 brother says. But for a good reason I wish 
 Olaf would say he forgives me.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy came nearer the bed and spoke 
 very earnestly and as if he had known the 
 man intimately: 
 
 “I did you a great wrong to order the work 
 
Robert Hardy* s Seven Days. 83 
 
 on Sunday, and in not doing my duty con- 
 cerning the inspection of the machinery. I 
 have come to say so, and to ask your forgive- 
 ness. I may never see you again. Will you 
 say to me, ‘Brother, I forgive you'?’^ 
 
 There was a moment of absolute passivity 
 on the part of the big fellow, then a very 
 large and brawny hand was extended and 
 the blind man said: 
 
 “Yes, I forgive. We learned that in the 
 old Bible at Svendorf.'' 
 
 Mr. Hardy laid his hand in the other, and 
 his lips moved in prayer of humble thanks- 
 giving. What! Robert Hardy! Is this that 
 proud man who only the day before was so 
 lifted up with selfishness that he could coldly 
 criticise his own minister for saying that peo- 
 ple ought to be more Christlike? Are you 
 standing here in this poor man’s house which 
 two days ago you would not have deigned to 
 enter, and beseeching him as your brother in 
 the great family of God to forgive you for 
 what you have done and left undone? Yes; 
 you have looked into the face of Eternity; 
 
84 Robert Hardyh Seven Days. 
 
 you realize now what life really rneans and 
 what souls are really worth. 
 
 He went out after a few words with the 
 family, and saw all the other injured men. 
 By the time he had finished these visits it was 
 dark, .and he eagerly turned home, exhausted 
 with the day’s experience, feeling as if he had 
 lived in a new world and at the same time 
 wondering at the rapidity with which the 
 time had fled. 
 
 He sighed almost contentedly to himself a« 
 he thought of the evening with his family 
 and how he would enjoy it after the disquiet 
 of the day. His wife was there to greet him, 
 and Alice and Clara and Bess clung about 
 him as he took ofif his coat and came into the 
 beautiful room where a cheerful fire was 
 blazing. Will came downstairs as his father 
 came in, and in the brief interval before sup- 
 per was ready Mr. Hardy related the scenes 
 of the day. 
 
 They were all shocked to hear of Scoville^s 
 death, and Mrs. Hardy at once began to dis- 
 cuss some plans for relieving the family. Bess 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 85 
 
 volunteered to give up half her room to one 
 of the children, and Alice quietly outlined a 
 plan which immediately appeared to her 
 father businesslike and feasible. In the midst 
 of this discussion supper was announced and 
 they all sat down. 
 
 ''Where is George?’' asked Mr. Hardy. 
 Ordinarily he would have gone on with the 
 meal without any reference to the boy, be- 
 cause he was so often absent from the table. 
 To-night he felt an irresistible longing to 
 have all his children with him. 
 
 "He said he was invited out to supper with 
 the Bramleys,” said Clara. 
 
 Mr. Hardy received the announcement in 
 silence. He felt the bitterness of such indif- 
 ference on the part of his older son. "What !” 
 he said to himself, "when he knows I had 
 such a little while left, could he not be at 
 home?” Then almost immediately flashed into 
 him the self-reproach even stronger than his 
 condemnation of his boy: "How much have 
 I done for him these last ten years to win 
 his love and protect him from evil?” 
 
86 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 
 
 After supper Mr. Hardy sat down by his 
 wife, and in the very act he blushed with 
 shame at the thought that he could not re- 
 call when he had spent an evening thus. He 
 looked into her face and asked gently: 
 '‘Mary, what do you want me to do? Shall 
 I read as we used to in the old days?’" 
 
 "No; let us talk together,"" replied Mrs. 
 Hardy, bravely driving back her tears. "I 
 cannot realize what it all means. I have been 
 praying all day. Do you still have the impres- 
 sion you had this morning?"" 
 
 "Mary, I am, if anything, even more con- 
 vinced that God has spoken to me. The im- 
 pression has been deepening with me all day. 
 When I looked into poor Scoville"s face, the 
 terrible nature of my past selfish life almost 
 overwhelmed me. Oh, why have I abused 
 God’s goodness to me so awfully?"" 
 
 There was silence a moment. Then Mr. 
 Hardy grew more calm. He began to dis- 
 cuss what he would do the second day. He 
 related more fully the interview with the men 
 in the shop and his visits to the injured. He 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 87 
 
 drew Clara to him and began to inquire into 
 her troubles in such a tender, loving way that 
 Clara's proud, passionate, willful nature 
 broke down, and she sobbed out her story to 
 him as she had to her mother the night be- 
 fore. 
 
 Mr. Hardy promised Clara that he would 
 see James the next day. It was true that 
 James Caxton had only a week before ap- 
 proached Mr. Hardy and told him in very 
 mariful fashion of his love for his daughter; 
 but Mr. Hardy had treated it as a child's af- 
 fair and, in accordance with his usual policy 
 in family matters, had simply told Clara and 
 Bess to discontinue their visits at the old 
 neighbor's. But now that he heard the story 
 from the lips of his own daughter he saw the 
 seriousness of it, and crowding back all his 
 former pride and hatred of the elder Caxton 
 he promised Clara to see James the next 
 day. 
 
 Clara clung to her father in loving sur- 
 prise. She was bewildered, as were all the 
 rest, by the strange event that had happened 
 
88 Robe:^t Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 to her father; but she never had so felt his 
 love before, and forgetting for a while the 
 significance of his wonderful dream, she felt 
 happy in his presence and in his affection for 
 her. 
 
 The evening had sped on with surprising 
 rapidity while all these matters were being 
 discussed, and as it drew near to midnight 
 again Robert Hardy felt almost happy in the 
 atmosphere of that home and the thought that 
 he could still for a little while create joy for 
 those who loved him. Suddenly he spoke of 
 his other son: 
 
 'T wish George would come in. Then our 
 family circle would be complete. But it is 
 bedtime for you, Bess, and all of us, for that 
 matter. ’’ 
 
 It was just then that steps were heard on 
 the front porch and voices were heard as 
 if talking in whispers. The bell rang. Mr. 
 Hardy rose to go to the door. His wife clung 
 to him terrified. 
 
 '‘Oh, don’t go, Robert! I am afraid for 
 you.” 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 89 
 
 ‘‘Why, Mary, it cannot be anything to 
 harm me. Don't be alarmed." 
 
 Nevertheless he was a little startled. The 
 day had been a trying one for him. He went 
 to the door, his wife and the children follow- 
 ing him close behind. He threw it wide 
 open, and there, supported by two of his com- 
 panions, one of them the young man Mr. 
 Hardy had seen in the hotel lobby at noon, 
 w^as his son George, too drunk to stand alone ! 
 He leered into the face of his father and 
 mother with a drunken look that froze their 
 souls with despair, as the blaze of the hall 
 lamp fell upon him reeling there. 
 
 And so the first of Robert Hardy's seven 
 days came to an end. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Mn Hardy was a man of great will power, 
 but this scene with his drunken son crushed 
 him for a moment and seemed to take the 
 very soul out of him. Mrs. Hardy at first ut- 
 tered a wild cry and then ran forward, and 
 seizing her elder boy almost dragged him into 
 the house, while Mr. Hardy, recovering from 
 his first shock, looked sternly at the compan- 
 ions of the boy and then shut the door. That 
 night was a night of sorrow in that family. 
 The sorrow of death is not to be compared 
 with it. 
 
 But morning came, as it comes alike to the 
 condemned criminal and to the pure-hearted 
 child on a holiday, and after a brief and trou- 
 bled rest Mr. Hardy awoke to his second day, 
 the memory of the night coming to him at 
 first as an ugly dream, but afterward as a 
 terrible reality. His boy drunk! He could 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 91 
 
 not make it seem possible. Yet there in the 
 next room he lay, in a drunken stupor, sleep- 
 ing off the effects of his debauch of the night 
 before. Mr. Hardy fell on his knees and 
 prayed for mercy, again repeating the words, 
 '‘Almighty God, help me to use the remaining 
 days in the wisest and best manner.’’ Then 
 calming himself by a tremendous effort he 
 rose up and faced the day’s work as bravely 
 as any man under such circumstances could. 
 
 After a family council, in which all of 
 them were drawn nearer together than they 
 ever had been before, on account of their 
 troubles, Mr. Hardy outlined the day’s work 
 something as follows : 
 
 First, he would go and see James Caxton 
 and talk over the affair between him and 
 Clara. Then he would go down to the office 
 and arrange some necessary details of his 
 business. If possible, he would come home 
 to lunch. In the afternoon he would go to 
 poor Scoville’s funeral, which had been ar- 
 ranged for two o’clock. Mrs. Hardy an- 
 nounced her intention to go also. Then Mr. 
 
92 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 Hardy thought he would have a visit with 
 George and spend the evening at home, ar- 
 ranging matters with reference to his own 
 death. With this programme in mind, he 
 finally went away, after an affectionate leave- 
 taking with his wife and children. 
 
 George slept heavily until the middle of the 
 forenoon, and then awoke with a raging 
 headache. Bess had several times during the 
 morning stolen into the room to see if her 
 brother were awake. When he did finally 
 turn over and open his eyes, he saw the 
 young girl standing by the bedside. He 
 groaned as he recalled the night, and his 
 mother's look, arid Bess said timidly as she 
 laid her hand on his forehead : 
 
 ^^George, Fm so sorry for you! Don't 
 you feel well ?" 
 
 feel as if my head would split open. It 
 aches as if some one was chopping wood in- 
 side of it." 
 
 ‘‘What makes you feel so?" asked Bess, 
 innocently. ^‘Did you eat too much supper 
 at the Bramleys ?" 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days. 93 
 
 Bess had never seen any one drunk before, 
 and when George was helped to bed the night 
 before by his father and mother she did not 
 understand his condition. She had alw^ays 
 adored her big brother. It was not strange 
 she had no idea of his habits. 
 
 George looked at his small sister curiously ; 
 then, under an impulse he could not explain, 
 he drew her nearer to him and said : 
 
 '*Bess, Fm a bad fellow. I was drunk last 
 night! Drunk! — do you understand? And 
 TVe nearly killed mother!’^ 
 
 Bess was aghast at the confession. She 
 put out her hand again. 
 
 ''Oh, no, George V Then -with a swift re- 
 vulsion of feeling she drew back and said: 
 "How could you, with father feeling as he 
 does?’’ 
 
 And little Bess, who was a creature of very 
 impulsive emotions, sat down crying on what 
 she supposed was a cushion, but which was 
 George’s tall hat, accidentally covered with 
 one end of a comforter which had slipped off 
 the bed. Bess was a very plump little crea- 
 
94 Robert //ardys Seven Days, 
 
 ture, and as she picked herself up and held 
 up the hat George angrily exclaimed: 
 
 ''You're always smashing my things !" 
 But the next minute he was sorry for the 
 words. 
 
 Bess retreated tow^ard the door, quivering 
 under the injustice of the charge. At the 
 door she halted. She had something of 
 Clara's passionate temper, and once in a 
 while she let even her adored brother George 
 feel it, small as she was. 
 
 "George Hardy, if you think more of your 
 old stovepipe hat than you do of your sister, 
 all right! You'll never get any more of my 
 month's allowance. And if I do smash your 
 things, I don't come home drunk at night and 
 break mother's heart. That's what she's 
 crying about this morning — that, and father's 
 queer ways. Oh,, dear ! I don't want to live ; 
 life is so full of trouble !" And little twelve- 
 year-old Bess sobbed in genuine sorrow. 
 
 George forgot his headache a minute. 
 
 "Come, Bess, come, and kiss and make up. 
 Honest, now, I didn't mean it. I was bad to 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 95 
 
 say what I did. Fll buy a dozen hats and 
 let you sit on them for fun. Don^t go away 
 angry; I’m so miserable!” 
 
 He lay down and groaned and Bess went 
 to him immediately, all her anger vanished. 
 
 ^'Oh, let me get you something to drive 
 away your headache; and Fll bring you up 
 something nice to eat. Mother had Norah 
 save something for you — didn^t you, moth- 
 er?” 
 
 Bessie asked the question just as her 
 mother came in. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy said ''Yes,” and going up to 
 George sat down by him and laid her hand 
 on his head, as his sister had done. 
 
 The boy moved uneasily. He saw the 
 marks of great suffering on his mother’s face, 
 but he said nothing to express sorrow for 
 his disgrace. 
 
 "Bess, will you go and get George his 
 breakfast?” asked Mrs. Hardy; and the 
 minute she was gone the mother turned to 
 her son and said: 
 
 "George, do you love me?” 
 
g6 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 George had been expecting something dif- 
 ferent. He looked at his mother as the tears 
 fell over her face, and all that was still good 
 in him rose up in rebellion against the animal 
 part. He seized his mother’s hand and car- 
 ried it to his lips, kissed it reverently, and 
 said in a low tone : 
 
 ‘‘Mother, 1 am unworthy. If you knew 
 
 He checked himself as if on the verge of 
 confession. His mother waited anxiously, 
 and then asked: 
 
 “Won’t you tell me all?” 
 
 “No; I can’t!” 
 
 George shuddered, and at that moment 
 Bess came in bearing a tray with toast and 
 eggs and coffee. Mrs. Hardy left Bess to 
 look after her brother and went out of the 
 room almost abruptly. George looked 
 ashamed, and after eating a little told Bess 
 to take the things away. She looked grieved, 
 and he said : 
 
 “Can’t help it; I’m not hungry. Besides, 
 I don’t deserve all this attention. Say, Bess, 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days, 97 
 
 is father still acting under his impression, or 
 dream, or whatever it was 
 
 ''Yes, he is,’’ replied Bessie with much 
 seriousness ; "and he is ever so good now, and 
 kisses mother and all of us good-by in the 
 morning; and he is kind and ever so good. 
 I don’t believe he is in his right mind. Will 
 said yesterday he thought father was non 
 campus meant us; and then he wouldn’t tell 
 me what it meant; but I guess he doesn’t 
 think father is just right intellectually.” 
 
 Now and then Bess got hold of a big word 
 and used it for all it would repeat. She said 
 "intellectually” over twice, and George 
 laughed a little, but it was a bitter laugh, not 
 such as a boy of his age has any business to 
 possess. He lay down and appeared to be 
 thinking, and after a while said aloud : 
 
 "I wonder if he wouldn’t let me have some 
 money while he’s feeling that way?” 
 
 "Who?” queried Bess. "Father?” 
 
 "What! you here still. Curiosity? Better 
 take these things downstairs.” 
 
 George spoke with his "headache tone,” 
 
98 Robert Hafdy^s Seven Days. 
 
 as Clara called it, and Bess without reply 
 gathered up the tray things and went out, 
 while George continued to figure out in his 
 hardly yet sober brain the possibility of his 
 father letting him have more money with 
 which to gamble; and yet, in the very next 
 room, Mrs. Hardy kneeled in an agony of 
 petition for that firstborn, crying out of her 
 heart: ‘'Oh, God, it is more than I can bear! 
 To see him growing away from me so ! Dear 
 Lord, be thou merciful to me. Bring him 
 back again to the life he used to live ! How 
 proud I was of him! What a joy he was to 
 me ! And now, and now ! Oh, gracious 
 Father, if thou art truly compassionate, hear 
 me ! Has not this foul demon of drink done 
 harm enough ? That it should still come into 
 my home ! Ah, but I have been indifferent to 
 the cries of other women, but now it strikes 
 me ! Spare me, great and powerful Al- 
 mighty! My boy! my heart's hunger is for 
 him! I would rather see him dead than see 
 him as I saw him last night. Spare me! 
 spare me, O God !" Thus the mother 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 99 
 
 prayed, dry-eyed and almost despairing, 
 while he for whom she prayed that heart- 
 broken prayer calculated, with growing cold- 
 ness of mind, the chances of getting more 
 money from his father to use in drink and 
 at the gaming-table. 
 
 Oh, appetite ! and thou spirit of gambling ! 
 Ye are twin demons with whom many a 
 fair-browed young soul to-day is marching 
 arm in arm down the dread pavement of 
 hell's vestibule, lined with grinning skeletons 
 of past victims ; and yet men gravely discuss 
 tlie probability of evil, and think there is no 
 special danger in a little speculation now and 
 then. Parents say: ‘‘Oh, my boy wouldn't 
 do such a thing!" But how many know 
 really and truly what their boy is really do- 
 ing, and how many of the young men would 
 dare reveal to their mothers or fathers the 
 places where they have been and the amuse- 
 rrents they have tasted, and the things for 
 which they have spent their money? 
 
 Mr. Hardy went at once to his neighbors. 
 
lOO Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 the Caxtons, who lived only a block away* 
 He had not been on speaking terms with the 
 family for some time, and he dreaded the in- 
 terview with the sensitive dread of a very 
 proud and stern-willed man. But two days 
 had made a great change in him. He was 
 a new man in Christ Jesus; and as he rang 
 the bell he prayed for wisdom and humility. 
 
 James himself came to the door with his 
 overcoat on and hat in hand, evidently just 
 ready to go down town. He started back 
 at seeing Mr. Hardy. 
 
 ''Are you going down town? I will not 
 come in then, but walk along with you,” said 
 Mr. Hardy quietly. 
 
 So James came out, and the two walked 
 along together. There was an awkward 
 pause for a minute, then Mr. Hardy said : 
 
 "Jamies, is it true that you and Clara are 
 engaged ?” 
 
 "No, sir; that — is — not exactly what you 
 might call engaged. We would like to be.” 
 Mr. Hardy smiled in spite of himself ; and 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days, loi 
 
 James added in a quickened tone, ‘‘We 
 would like to be, with your consent, sir/' 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked on thoughtfully and 
 then glanced at the young man at his side. 
 He was six feet tall, not very handsome, as 
 Bessie had ‘frankly said, but he had a good 
 face, a steady, clear blue eye, and resolute 
 air, as of one who was willing to v-ork hard 
 to get what he wanted. Mr. Hardy could 
 not help contrasting him with his own pre- 
 maturely broken-down son George, and he 
 groaned inwardly as he thought of the fool- 
 ish pride that would bar the doors of his 
 family to a young man like James Caxton 
 simply because he was poor and because his 
 father had won in a contested election in 
 which the two older men were candidates for 
 the same office. 
 
 It did not take long to think all this. Then 
 he said, looking again at the young man 
 with a businesslike look : 
 
 ^'Supposing you had my permission, what 
 are your prospects for supporting my daugh- 
 
102 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 ter ? She has always had everything she 
 wanted. What could you give her?’’ 
 
 The question might have seemed cold and 
 businesslike. The tone was thoughtful and 
 serious. 
 
 A light flashed into James’ eyes, but he 
 said simply : 'T am in a position to make a 
 thousand dollars a year next spring. I earn 
 something extra with my pen at home.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not reply to this. He said : 
 ''Do you know what a willful, quick-tem- 
 pered girl Clara is?” 
 
 ‘T have known her from a little child, Mr. 
 Hardy. I feel as if I knew her about as well 
 as you do.” 
 
 "Perhaps you know her better than I do; 
 I do not know my child as I should.”. 
 
 The tone was not bitter but intensely sad. 
 The young man had, of course, been greatly 
 wondering at this talk from Mr. Hardy, and 
 had observed the change in his manner and 
 his speech. He looked at him now and 
 noted the pale, almost haggard, face and his 
 extremely thoughtful appearance. 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 103 
 
 ''Mr. Hardy/' said James frankly, "you 
 are in trouble. I wish I could " 
 
 "Thank you ; no, you can't help me any in 
 this — except/' continued Mr. Hardy with a 
 faint smile, "except you solve this trouble 
 between you and my daughter." 
 
 "There is no trouble between us, sir," re- 
 plied James simply. "You know I love her 
 and have loved her for a long time, and I be- 
 lieve I am able to support her and make her 
 happy. Won't you give your consent, sir.^ 
 We are not children. We know our minds?” 
 
 James was beginning to speak very ear- 
 nestly. He was beginning to hope that the 
 stern, proud man who had so curtly dis- 
 missed him a little while before would in 
 some unaccountable manner relent and give 
 him his heart's desire. 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked along in silence a little 
 way. Then he said, almost abruptly; 
 
 "James, do you drink?" 
 
 "No, sir!" 
 
 "Or gamble ?" 
 
104 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 ‘‘You forget my mother, Mr. Hardy.” 
 The reply was almost stern. 
 
 Mrs. Caxton’s younger brother had been 
 ruined by gambling. He had come to the 
 house one night and in a fit of anger because 
 his sister would not give him money to carry 
 on his speculation he had threatened her life. 
 James had interposed and at the risk of his 
 own life had probably saved his mother’s. 
 Mrs. Caxton had been so unnerved by the 
 scene that her health had sufifered from it 
 seriously. All this had happened when 
 James was growing out of boyhood. But 
 not a day had passed that the young man 
 did not see a sad result of that great gam- 
 bling passion in his own mother’s face and 
 bearing. He loathed the thought of a vice 
 so debasing that it ignored all the tender ties 
 of kindred and was ready to stop at nothing 
 in order to get means for its exercise. 
 
 Mr. Hardy knew the story and he ex- 
 claimed : “Forgive me, James, I did not 
 think!” Then, after a pause, “Are you a 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 105 
 
 Christian? I mean, do you have a faith in 
 the revelation of God to men through Jesus 
 Christ, and do you try to live according to 
 His teachings, with a supreme love for God 
 controlling your life ? Do you live every day 
 as if it might be the last you would have to 
 live?^’ 
 
 James started. Was Mr. Hardy out of his 
 mind? He had never heard him talk like 
 this before. The idea of Mr. Hardy caring 
 about his religious character in the event of 
 his becoming' a son-in-law was an idea too 
 remote for occurrence. He could see, how- 
 ever, that some very powerful change had 
 taken place in Mr. Hardy's usual demeanor. 
 His words also produced a strong effect 
 upon the young man. He was like thou- 
 sands of young men — temperate, honest, in- 
 dustrious, free from vices, strictly moral, but 
 without any decided religious faith. ‘'Am I 
 a Christian?" he asked himself, echoing Mr. 
 Hardy's question. No ; he could not say 
 that he was. He had never said so to any 
 one. He had, in fact, never been confronted 
 
io6 Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 
 
 with the question before. So he replied to 
 Mr. Hardy: 
 
 ‘‘No, sir ; I don’t think I am what would 
 be called a Christian. As for living as if 
 every day were to be my last — do you think 
 that is possible, sir?” 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not answer. He walked 
 along thoughtfully. In the course of the 
 conversation they had reached the corner 
 where the young man turned down to his of- 
 fice, and the two paused. 
 
 “I want to have another talk with you,” 
 Mr. Hardy said. “To-day is Tuesday; say 
 to-morrow evening. I want to see your 
 
 father also, and ” Mr. Hardy was on 
 
 the point of saying that he wanted to ask the 
 elder Caxton’s forgiveness, but for some rea- 
 son he stopped without doing so. 
 
 James exclaimed eagerly as Mr. Hardy 
 turned to go : 
 
 “Then you don’t forbid my entertaining 
 some hope of your good will in the matter of 
 my love for Clara?” He lowered his voice 
 and spoke very strongly. “You don’t for- 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 107 
 
 get your own youth, and the way in which 
 you yourself began your home?'’ 
 
 Mr. Hardy answered never a word to this 
 appeal, but looked into the young man's 
 face with a gaze he did not forget all day, 
 then wrung his hand and turned on his heel 
 abruptly and walked rapidly down the street. 
 
 James looked after him as he disappeared 
 among the crowds of people going to their 
 business, and then turned to his own tasks. 
 But something in him gave him hope. 
 Another something appealed all day to his 
 inner nature, and he could not shake off the 
 impression of Mr. Hardy's question : ‘'Are 
 you a Christian ?" And even when he went 
 home at night that question pursued him 
 more strenuously than any other, and would 
 not give him peace. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Robert Hardy reached his office just in 
 time to see Burns, the foreman, go out of a 
 side door and cross the yard. The manager 
 followed him and entered the machine shop 
 in time to see him stop at a machine at the 
 farthest end of the shop and speak to the 
 man at work there. The man was a Nor- 
 wegian, Herman by name. He was run- 
 .ning what is called a planer, a machine for 
 trimming pieces of cold metal just from the 
 foundry or the casting-room. He was at 
 work this morning on one of the eccentric 
 bars of a locomotive, and it was of such a 
 character that he could leave the machine for 
 several minutes to do the planing. Burns 
 talked with this man for a while and then 
 moved across the floor to the other work- 
 man, a small-boned, nervous little fellow, 
 who was in charge of a boring machine 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 109 
 
 which drove a steel drill through heavy plates 
 of iron fastened into the frame. 
 
 Mr. Hardy came up just as Burns turned 
 away from this man, and touched him on 
 the shoulder. The foreman started and 
 turned about, surprised to see the manager. 
 
 ''Well, Burns, how goes everything this 
 morning?’' asked Robert. 
 
 "The men here are grumbling because 
 they don’t have a holiday same as the men 
 in Scoville’s department.” 
 
 "But we can’t shut down the whole busi- 
 ness, can we?” asked Mr. Hardy with a mo- 
 mentary touch of his old time feeling. "The 
 men are unreasonable.” 
 
 "I’m afraid there’ll be trouble, sir. I can 
 feel it in the air,” replied Burns. 
 
 Mr. Hardy made no reply in words, but 
 looked about him. Within the blackened 
 area of the great shop about two hundred 
 men were at work. The whirl of machinery 
 was constant. The grind of steel on iron 
 was blended with the rattle of chains and the 
 rolling of the metal carriages in their tracks. 
 
no Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 The Genius of Railroading seemed present in 
 the grim strength and rapidity of several 
 machines which moved almost as if instinct 
 with intelligence, and played with the most 
 unyielding substances as if they were soft 
 and pliable clay. In the midst of all the 
 smashing of matter against itself, through the 
 smoke and din and dust and revolution of the 
 place, Mr. Hardy was more than usually 
 alive this morning to the human aspect of the 
 case. His mind easily went back to the time 
 when he himself stood at one of these planers 
 and did just such work as that big Norwe- 
 gian was doing, only the machines were vast- 
 ly better and improved now. Mr. Hardy was 
 not ashamed of having come along through 
 the ranks of manual labor. In fact, he al- 
 ways spoke with pride of the work he used 
 to do in that very shop, and he considered 
 himself able to run all by himself any piece 
 of machinery in the shops. But he could not 
 help envying these men this morning. 
 ‘'Why,'' he said, “probably not one of them 
 but has at least seven weeks to live, and most 
 
Robert Hardy' s Seven Days. 1 1 1 
 
 of them seven months or years, while I — 
 Why should these men complain because 
 they are not released from toil? Isn't toil 
 sweet when there is a strong body and a lov- 
 ing wife and a happy home? O God!" he 
 continued to think, ''I would give all my 
 wealth if I might change places with any one 
 of these men, and know that I would prob- 
 ably have more than a week to live." 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked back to his office, leav- 
 ing the foreman in a condition of wondering 
 astonishment. 
 
 ''Something wrong in his works, I guess," 
 muttered Burns. 
 
 Mr. Hardy sat down to his desk and wrote 
 an order, releasing all the men who desired 
 to attend Scoville's funeral in the afternoon. 
 He did not have it in his power to do more, 
 and yet he felt that this was the least he could 
 do under the circumstances. The more he 
 thought of Scoville's death the more he felt 
 the cruel injustice of it. The injuries were 
 clearly accidental : but they might have been 
 avoided with proper care for human life, 
 
1 12 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and Robert Hardy was just beginning to 
 understand the value of humanity. 
 
 He worked hard at the routine of his of- 
 fice work until noon. He did what seemed 
 to him the most necessary part of it all with 
 conscientious fidelity. But his mind, a good 
 part of the time, was with the men in the 
 shops. He could not escape the conviction 
 that if a railroad company had the willing- 
 ness to do so. it could make the surround* 
 ings of these men safer and happier without 
 getting poorer work or even losing any 
 money by it. 
 
 When noon sounded he went home re- 
 solved to do something, as far as lay in his 
 power, to make the men feel that they were 
 regarded as something more than machines. 
 
 George was downstairs when his father 
 came in, and looked at him with curiosity 
 rather than with any feeling of shame for the 
 scene of the night before. After lunch was 
 over, Mr. Hardy called his son into the study 
 for a little talk with him before going down 
 to the funeral. 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 113 
 
 *‘I do not need to tell you, George,'’ began 
 his father quietly, but with feeling, ‘‘that I 
 felt the disgrace of your drunkenness last 
 night very bitterly. You cannot know the 
 feelings of your father and mother in that re- 
 spect. But I did not call }^ou in here to re- 
 proach you for your vices. I want to know 
 what you intend to do in the face of the pres- 
 ent conditions." 
 
 Mr. Hardy paused, then went on again; 
 “I am perfectly aware, George, that you re- 
 gard my dream as a fancy, and think I am 
 probably out of my mind. Isn't that true?" 
 Mr. Hardy looked George full in the face and 
 the young man stammered : 
 
 “Well — I — ah — yes — I — don't just under- 
 stand " 
 
 “At the same time," went on his father, “I 
 realize that nothing but a conviction of re- 
 ality could produce the change in me which 
 you and all the rest of the family must ac- 
 knowledge has taken place. And you must 
 confess that I am acting far more rationally 
 than I did before my dream occurred. It is 
 
1 14 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 not natural for a father to neglect his own 
 children, and I have done it. It is not ra- 
 tional that he should spend his time and 
 money and strength on himself so as to grow 
 intensely selfish, and I have done that. My 
 son, you may doubt me, but I am firmly con- 
 vinced that I shall not be alive here after 
 next Sunday. I am trying to live as I ought 
 to live under those conditions. My son,'' 
 Mr. Hardy spoke with a dignity and a cer- 
 tain impression which George could not but 
 feel, want you to do as you know you 
 ought to do under the circumstances. When 
 I am gone your mother and the girls will 
 look to you for advice and direction. You 
 will probably have to leave college for a little 
 while. We will talk that over this evening. 
 But I want you to promise me that you will 
 not touch another glass of liquor or handle 
 another card as long as you live." 
 
 George laughed a little uneasily, and then 
 lied outright: ‘‘I don't see the harm of a 
 
 game once in a while just for fun. I don't 
 play for stakes, as some fellows do." 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 115 
 
 “George/' said his father, looking at him 
 steadily, “you have not told the truth. You 
 were gambling only a few nights ago. It is 
 useless for you to deny it. That is where the 
 very liberal allowance I have given you has 
 been squandered." 
 
 George turned deathly pale and sat with 
 bowed head while his father went on almost 
 sternly: “Consider your mother, George, 
 
 whose heart almost broke when you came in 
 last night. I don't ask you to consider me. 
 I have not been to you what a father ought 
 to be. But if you love your mother and sis- 
 ters, and have any self-respect left, you will 
 let drink and cards alone after this. In the 
 sight of God, my dear boy, remember what 
 He made you for. You are young. You 
 have all of life before you. You can 
 make a splendid record if God spares 
 your life. I would gladly give all I possess 
 to stand where you do to-day, and live my 
 life over again. I can't do it. The past is 
 irrevocable. But one can always repent. 
 George, believe me, your mother would 
 
ii6 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 rather see you in your coffin than see you 
 come home again as you did last night. We 
 love you ’’ 
 
 Mr. Hardy, proud man as he was, could 
 say no more. He laid his hand on the boy's 
 head as if he were a young lad again, and 
 said simply, ''Don’t disappoint God, my 
 boy,” and went out, leaving his son sitting 
 there almost overcome by his father’s power- 
 ful appeal, but not yet ready to yield him- 
 self to the still small voice that spoke within 
 even more powerfully, and whispered to him, 
 "My son, give me thine heart. Cease to do 
 evil ; learn to do well. Cleanse thy ways 
 and follow after righteousness.” 
 
 It was one o’clock when Mr. Hardy came 
 downstairs, and as he came into the room 
 where Mrs. Hardy and the girls were sitting, 
 he happened to think of some business mat- 
 ters between himself and his only brother, 
 who lived in the next town, twenty miles 
 down the road. 
 
 He spoke of the matter to Mrs. Hardy, 
 and she suggested that Will go down on the 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 117 
 
 three o’clock ’train with the papers Mr. 
 Hardy wanted to ^ ave his brother look over, 
 and come back on the six o’clock in time for 
 dinner. 
 
 Clara asked if she couldn’t go, too, and 
 Bessie added her request, as she had not 
 seen her aunt for some time. Mr. Hardy 
 saw no objection to their going, only he re- 
 minded them that he wanted them all back 
 at six. Alice volunteered to amuse George 
 at home while all the rest were gone, and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hardy departed for the funeral, 
 Mr. Hardy’s thoughts still absorbed for 
 the most part with his older boy. Clara had 
 asked no questions concerning the interview 
 with James, and her father simply stated that 
 they could have a good talk about it in the 
 evening. 
 
 The tenement at No. 760 was crowded, 
 and in spite of the wintry weather large num- 
 bers of men and women stood outside in the 
 snow. Mr. Hardy had ordered his sleigh, 
 and he and his wife had gone down to the 
 
1 1 8 ^ Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 house in that, ready to take some one to the 
 cemetery. 
 
 The simple service as began was ex- 
 ceedingly impressive to Mr. Hardy. Most 
 of the neighbors present looked at him and 
 his well-dressed wife in sullen surprise. She 
 noticed the looks with a heightening color; 
 but Mr. Hardy was too much absorbed in 
 his thought of what he had done and left 
 undone in this family to be influenced by the 
 behavior of those about him. 
 
 Mr. Jones offered a prayer for the comfort 
 of God to rest on the stricken family. He 
 then read a few words from John’s Gospel 
 appropriate to the occasion, and said a few 
 simple words, mostly addressed to the neigh- 
 bors present. The poor widow had been re- 
 moved to a small room upstairs, and lay there 
 cared for by the faithful sister. The minister 
 had nearly concluded his remarks when a 
 voice was heard in the room above, voices 
 expostulating in alarm and growing louder, 
 followed by a rapid movement in the narrow 
 hall above, and with a scream of frenzy the 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 119 
 
 wife rushed down the stairs and burst into 
 the room where the dead body of her hus- 
 band lay. She had suddenly awakened out 
 of the fainting stupor in which she had been 
 lying since her husband's death, and realized 
 what was going on in the house with a quick 
 gathering of passion and strength, such as 
 even the dying sometimes are known to 
 possess. She had escaped from her sister 
 and the neighbor who were watching with 
 her, and, crazy with grief, flung herself over 
 the cofiin, moaning and crying out in such 
 heart-breaking accents that all present were 
 for a moment flung into a state of inaction 
 and awe. 
 
 But Mrs. Hardy was first to move toward 
 the stricken woman. Where did the wife of 
 the once haughty and proud man learn the 
 touch of sympathy that drew that other poor 
 sister nearer to her, and finally soothed her 
 into quietness? Certain it is that suffering 
 in her own home had marvelously taught the 
 richly dressed woman, the refined, cultured 
 lady, to hold this other one to be of the same 
 
120 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 household of God with her. So it was that 
 she finally succeeded in drawing her away 
 into the other room, and there held her, 
 gasping for breath, now that the brief 
 strength was spent, and crying feebly, '‘Oh 
 God, help me ! Don’t keep me here in this 
 world any longer !” 
 
 If this brief scene thrilled the neighbors 
 with pity, what shall be said of its effect on 
 Robert Hardy? For a moment it seemed 
 to him more than he could bear. He started 
 to his feet and put his hands before his face. 
 Then calming himself by a great effort he sat 
 down and his face became almost like a stone 
 in its rigidity. When his wife finally suc- 
 ceeded in getting the woman into the rear 
 room, his face relaxed and he breathed more 
 easily ; but as soon as possible he arose and 
 went out and stood silent there until the 
 body was brought out and placed in the 
 hearse. ' Then he went in and spoke a few 
 words to his wife, and told Mr. Jones that he 
 could take four or five to the cemetery if 
 they wished to go. Mrs. Hardy would stay 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days, 12 1 
 
 with the suffering widow until he came back. 
 Mr. Hardy also whispered something to his 
 minister, and gave him a large roll of bills to 
 be used for the family. Then went out 
 again. 
 
 That ride in the cold gray of the declining 
 winter afternoon was a bitter experience to 
 Robert. He roused himself at the grave as 
 he heard the words, ''Raise us from the death 
 of sin unto the resurrection of righteous- 
 ness,’' and something like a gleam of hope 
 shot through his heart at the words. Surely 
 there was mercy with Him who had con- 
 quered death for the sake of the human race. 
 He drove back with more peace of soul than 
 he had thought possible. By the time he 
 had reached the shop tenements it was grow- 
 ing dark. He drove home with his wife and 
 thought with something of a feeling of pleas- 
 ure of the evening before him with his family. 
 This second day had been more agitating in 
 some ways than his first. 
 
 He had been unnerved at the funeral, and 
 had felt remorse more keenly than he had 
 
122 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 once thought possible. As' he reviewed the 
 events of the day with his wife he felt dis- 
 satisfied. And yet he had truly tried to do 
 his duty in the light of eternity. What more 
 could he do ? 
 
 He felt anxious about George, and told 
 his wife of the conversation he had with him. 
 Mrs. Hardy felt the same anxiety with her 
 husband. After the horses were put up and 
 the father and mother had gone into the 
 house they continued the conversation. 
 Alice was upstairs with George and the other 
 children had not come back. It was dark, 
 but husband and wife sat by the light of the 
 open fire and talked together until nearly six 
 o’clock. Mr. Hardy had just said some- 
 thing about Clara, and Mrs. Hardy replied, 
 ‘'Isn’t it about time they were here?” when 
 the telephone bell rang in the little office ad- 
 joining the hallway, where Mr. Hardy did 
 some of the business of the company, being 
 connected by wire with the shops. He went 
 in and answered the call, and a series of 
 sharp exclamations and questions was soon 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 123 
 
 followed by his coming back into the room 
 where his wife sat. By the light of the open 
 fire she could see that he was very pale. 
 His overcoat was lying on the couch where 
 he had thrown it as he came in. He hastily 
 put it on, and then said to his wife : 
 
 ‘‘Mary, there has been an accident to the 
 six o'clock way-train between Baldwin and 
 here, and Burns has telephoned me to come- 
 down. Don't be alarmed. We will hope 
 for the best." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy started up. 
 
 ‘'Why, Will and Bess and Clara were 
 coming home on that train !'’ 
 
 “Mary," Mr. Hardy's voice trembled, but 
 he tried to speak calmly and in comfort, 
 “let us hope for the best." 
 
 “What did Mr. Burns telephone? Tell 
 me all, Robert. I can bear it with you." 
 
 “He telephoned that the train was derailed 
 and a dozen people killed and as many in- 
 jured. I must go down the road at once ! 
 Oh, my God, spare our dear ones !" 
 
 Mr. Hardy was almost overwhelmed by 
 
124 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 this last vStroke, and yet he asked himself 
 how many accidents had occurred this last 
 year on the road and he had never given 
 much thought to the suffering of those fami- 
 lies afflicted! Now, perhaps, it had come to 
 him, and bidding his wife pray and hope, he 
 rushed out of the house and down to the 
 station with the energy and rapidity of the 
 youth who in college days had taken prizes 
 for athletic superiority. 
 
 At the yard he found a special train just 
 ready to go to the scene of the accident. It 
 consisted of a wrecking car, a caboose, and 
 one coach with tender and engine. He 
 mounted the engine with a feeling that it was 
 a little nearer the fatal spot and would reach 
 there first. At the last minute no more 
 definite news concerning the particular per- 
 sons killed and injured had been received. 
 
 Mr. Hardy felt almost glad of the uncer- 
 tainty as the engine pulled out and started 
 on its run of fifteen miles, soon attaining a 
 speed of fifty-five miles an hour. The snow 
 was falling in large, moist flakes. It was 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 125 
 
 growing warmer and would rain before 
 morning. He gazed at the narrow band of 
 light on the track ahead, and leaned forward 
 as if to help the engine go faster. He did 
 not speak, and so the train rushed through 
 the night. 
 
 And so the second of Robert Hardy^s 
 seven days drew to a close. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 As the engine drew near the scene of the 
 wreck a great crowd could be seen stand- 
 ing about the track. Before the train came 
 to a stop Robert Hardy leaped down from 
 the cab and struggled forward, uttering cries 
 of which he himself probably was not con- 
 scious. The accident had occurred upon a 
 bridge which spanned a small river in the 
 vicinity of Baldwin, near which town Mr. 
 Hardy's brother lived. 
 
 The engine, mail car, two day coaches, and 
 two sleepers had crashed through, and, fall- 
 ing a distance of fifty feet, had partly broken 
 through the ice of the frozen stream. To 
 add to the horror of the disaster, the two 
 sleepers had caught fire, and there was abso- 
 lutely no means to fight it. Mr. Hardy 
 caught confused glimpses of men down on 
 the ice throwing handfuls of snow upon the 
 blazing timbers in a frantic attempt to drive 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 127 
 
 back or put out the flames. He fell, rather 
 than scrambled, down the steep, slippery 
 bank of the stream, and then the full horror 
 of the situation began to dawn upon him. 
 
 The baggage car and tender had fallen in 
 such a way that the trucks rested upright 
 ^ the ice, and the position of the timbers 
 was relatively that of the train before it had 
 left the track. One day-coach lay upon its 
 side, but had broken completely in two, as 
 if some giant hand had pulled it apart, leav- 
 ing the ragged ends of timbers projecting 
 toward one another in such curious fashion 
 that if the two ends of the car had been 
 pushed toward the middle, the splintered 
 beams would have fitted into place almost as 
 if made on a pattern. The other day-coach 
 had fallen upon one end, and one-third of the 
 entire coach was under water. The other 
 end, resting partly against the broken car, 
 stuck up in the air like some curious, fantas- 
 tic pillar or leaning tower. 
 
 Mr. Hardy was conscious of all this and 
 more as he heard the groans of the injured 
 
128 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 and the cries of those begging to be released 
 from the timbers under which they had been 
 caught. But his own children ! Never had 
 he loved them as now. 
 
 The crowd of people had increased to a 
 mob. The confusion was that of terror. 
 Mr. Hardy rushed about the wreck search- 
 ing for his children, a great throbbing at his 
 heart as he thought of their probable fate, 
 when the sweetest of all sounds, Bessie’s 
 dear voice, came to him, and the next min- 
 ute he had caught up the child as she ran to 
 him and strained her to his breast as in 
 the old days when he had carried her about 
 the house and yard. 
 
 Where are Will and Clara?” 
 
 ‘‘Oh, father, they’re here ! and Will wasn’t 
 hurt much more than I was; but Clara has 
 fainted, and she is lying down over here.” 
 Bess dragged her father out across the ice 
 to the edge of the bank, where a number of 
 the victims had been laid on the cushions of 
 the seats, some dead, some dying. There 
 lay Clara, very white and still, with Will 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 1 29 
 
 bending over her, himself bleeding from sev- 
 eral wounds about the head and hands, but 
 still conscious and trying to restore his sis- 
 ter. 
 
 Mr. Hardy kneeled down in the snow by 
 his son's side, and Will, seeing him there, 
 was not surprised, but he sobbed excitedly: 
 ^‘Oh, she is dead !" 
 
 ''No," replied her father; "she is not." 
 
 Clara stirred, and her lips moved ; but she 
 did not open her eyes, and then her father 
 noticed that a strange mark lay over her 
 face. 
 
 How Mr. Hardy succeeded in carrying 
 the girl to the top of the bank ; how he left 
 her there in the care of brave-hearted women 
 while he went down into that hell's pit to 
 rescue victims imprisoned and groaning for 
 help; how Bess related the accident of the 
 night and tried to explain how she was not 
 hurt except a scratch or two, because she 
 fell between two car-seat cushions that were 
 jammed around her and protected her from 
 
130 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 injury; how the excitement grew as it was 
 discovered that the dead and dying would 
 number more than seventy-five, instead of 
 ten or twelve, as Burns had telephoned ; how 
 finally Robert Hardy and Will and Bess and 
 Clara, with other victims, were taken back 
 to Barton, where a great crowd of anxious, 
 pale-faced people was surging through the 
 station and over the track ; how James Cax- 
 ton was first to board the train down by the 
 shops, at the risk of his neck, as in the rainy 
 darkness he swung himself on the dead run 
 up to the platform of the coach ; how Mrs. 
 Hardy met her children and husband; how 
 there was sprrow in many a home in Barton 
 that night and for many days to come ; how 
 Mr. Hardy finally, a little after midnight, en- 
 tirely exhausted by the events of the day and 
 night, finally fell asleep and dreamed the 
 scene all over again — all this and a great 
 deal more might be of interest concerning 
 one of the most remarkable railroad acci- 
 dents that ever occurred in this country, but 
 would be out of place in this narrative. For 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 13 1 
 
 detailed horrors of it no pen can describe, 
 no words can tell. 
 
 Mr. Hardy woke about eight o'clock, 
 rested, but feeling very lame and sore from 
 his exertions of the night. His first thought 
 was of Clara. When he went to sleep the 
 girl seemed to be resting without pain, only 
 that strange mark across her face made them 
 all anxious. It was not a bruise, but it lay 
 like a brand across the eyes, which had not 
 opened since her father found her lying by 
 the frozen stream. 
 
 James had insisted on staying in the house 
 to be of. service, and Mrs. Hardy had felt 
 grateful for his presence as she watched for 
 returning consciousness from Clara, who 
 still gave no more sign of animation, al- 
 though she breathed easily and seemed to be 
 free from pain. Every doctor and surgeon 
 in town had been summoned to the scene of 
 the accident. But Mr. Hardy felt so anx- 
 ious for Clara as he came in and looked at 
 her that he went downstairs and asked James 
 
 it is all true, exactly 
 
132 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 if he wouldnX^un out and see if any of the 
 doctors had returned. 
 
 ''Yes, sir; Til go at once. How is she 
 now, Mr. Hardy?’' James looked him in the 
 face with the look that love means when it is 
 true and brave. 
 
 "My boy,” replied Mr. Hardy, laying his 
 hand on James’ ' shoulder, "I don't know. 
 There is something strange about it. Get a 
 doctor, if you can. But I know there must 
 be many other sad homes to-day in Barton. 
 Oh, it was horrible !” 
 
 He sat down and covered his face, while 
 James with a brief "God help us, sir!” went 
 out in search of a doctor. 
 
 ]\Tr. Hardy went upstairs again, and with 
 his wife kneeled down and offered a prayer 
 of thanksgiving and of appeal. "O Lord,” 
 said Robert, "grant that this dear one of 
 ours may be restored to us again. Spare us 
 this anguish, not in return for our goodness, 
 but out of Thy great compassion for our sins 
 repented of!” 
 
 Will and Bess lay in the next room, and 
 
Robert Hardyi^s Seven Days. 133 
 
 now that the reaction had set in they were 
 sleeping, Will feverish and restless, Bess 
 quite peaceful, as if nothing had happened 
 out of the usual order of things. 
 
 ‘‘Where is George?’’ asked Mr. Hardy as 
 he rose from his prayer. 
 
 “I don’t know, Robert. He started down 
 to the train a little while after you did. 
 Haven’t you seen him?” 
 
 “No, Mary. God grant he may not ” 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not dare finish his thought 
 aloud. 
 
 His wife guessed his thought, and together 
 the two sat hand in hand, drawn very near 
 by their mutual trouble and by all the strange 
 events of that strange week; and together 
 they talked of the accident and of Clara and 
 James and their oldest son ; and then Mrs. 
 Hardy said, as she tremblingly drew her 
 husband’s face near to her ; 
 
 “Robert, do you still have that impression 
 concerning the time left you here to live? 
 Do you still think this week is to be the 
 end ?” 
 
134 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy had a vague hope that the 
 shock of the accident might have destroyed 
 the impression of the dream ; but her hope 
 was disappointed. 
 
 '‘My dear wife/’ replied Robert, "there is 
 not the least doubt in my mind that my 
 dream was a vision of what will happen. 
 There is no question but that after Sunday 
 I shall not be with you. This is Wednes- 
 day. How lightning-like the days have 
 flown ! How precious the moments are ! 
 How many of them I have wasted in foolish 
 selfishness ! Mary, I should go mad with 
 the thought if I did not feel the necessity of 
 making this week the best week of my life; 
 only, I do not know what is most important 
 to do. If it had been seven months, or even 
 seven weeks, I might have planned more 
 wisely. Oh, it is cruelly brief, the time ! 
 But I must make the wisest possible use of 
 it. This accident, so unexpected, has com- 
 plicated the matter. I had not reckoned on 
 it.” ^ 
 
 How many of us do reckon on acci- 
 
Robert Hardy'^s Seven Days, 135 
 
 dents? They always come into our lives 
 with a shock. Yet it seems possible that a 
 man who lives very close to God every day 
 might be so ready for everything that not 
 even the most terrible catasti;ophe could 
 make" m.uch difference to his plans jor daily 
 life, least of all deprive him of his reason, as 
 it has so often done. Robert Hardy was just 
 beginning to realize dimly that life is not 
 one thing, but many things, and that its im- 
 portance is the importance which belongs to 
 the character of God himself. < 
 
 He began to talk calmly with his wife con- 
 cerning what he would do that day, and was 
 still talking about it when James came in 
 with a doctor, who at once went upstairs. 
 He was just from the scene of the accident, 
 and bore marks of a hard night’s work. His 
 first glance at Clara was hard and profes- 
 sional. But as he looked he grew very 
 grave, and an expression of serious surprise 
 came over his weary face. He laid his hands 
 on the girl’s eyes and examined them ; raised 
 her hand and dropped it upon the bed again. 
 
136 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 Then turning to the father and mother he 
 said, gently: 
 
 ‘'You must prepare yourselves for a ter- 
 rible fact resulting from the accident to your 
 daughter. She has suffered a shock that 
 will probably render her blind as long as she 
 lives.’' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hardy listened, pale-faced 
 and troubled. It was hard to think of the 
 girl, so strong-willed, so passionate, and yet 
 so capable of noble impulses and loving de- 
 sires, as all her life shut up within the dark- 
 ness thus. It was bitter to think of this for 
 her. What would it be to her when she 
 awr4<e to the whole consciousness of it? 
 
 The doctor spoke again slowly: “There is 
 another thing you ought to be prepared for. 
 In rare cases like this, it happens some- 
 times that a loss of hearing accompanies the 
 loss of sight.” Then after a pause, “And 
 with the loss of sight and hearing it is pos- 
 sible the peculiar shock has deprived your 
 daughter of the power of speech. I do not 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Duys. 137 
 
 know yet whether this has happened, but I 
 prepare you for the worst/’ 
 
 '‘Blind and deaf and dumb !” murmured 
 Mr. Hardy, while his wife sat down and bur- 
 ied her face in the bed-clothes and sobbed. 
 It seemed terrible to them. 
 
 The doctor, after a little further examina- 
 tion, said nothing more could be done at 
 present, gave directions for certain neces- 
 sary treatment and departed after giving a 
 look at Will and Bess and prescribing for 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Hardy went downstairs and quietly 
 told James all that the doctor had said. To 
 a man living on the verge of eternity, as Mr. 
 Hardy was, there was no time for evasions 
 or the postponing of bad news or the utter- 
 ance of soft speeches. 
 
 James took the news more calmly than 
 Mr. Hardy thought he would. It was evi- 
 dent he did not realize all that was meant by 
 it. 
 
 "Can you love Clara under these condi- 
 tions?” asked Mr. Hardy, looking at James 
 
138 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 with a sympathy that the young man could 
 not help feeling. 
 
 *'Yes, sir; more than ever. Why, is she 
 not more in need of it than ever?’’ 
 
 ''True; but what can you do with a help- 
 less creature like that?” 
 
 "God help us, sir! If she were my wife 
 now and were dependent on me, don’t you 
 think I could care for her tenderly, better 
 than any one else in the world?” 
 
 Mr. Hardy shook his head. "This is a 
 hard blow to me, James. I don’t know just 
 what to say yet. But it is possible the poor 
 girl may not have to suffer all that. Let us 
 hope the doctor is not justified in his sup- 
 position. Indeed, he said he could not tell 
 for certain that loss of hearing and speech 
 would follow. If they do, I cannot see how 
 Clara can retain her reason when she re- 
 covers from the shock. James, I believe 
 you are a good fellow. I have not forgot- 
 ten my own courtship. I will not stand in 
 the way between you and your love for Clara 
 in anything right and reasonable. I had 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 139 
 
 hoped we mi^t have a good talk together 
 over the matter. This accident has made it 
 impossible for a time, at least ; but I confide 
 in you as an honest, true man. We must 
 wait for events to take shape. Meanwhile, 
 let us pray God to give us wisdom and lead 
 us into the way we need to go.’’ 
 
 James Caxton listened to Mr. Hardy with 
 a feeling of astonishment. This was not the 
 Robert Hardy he had known all his life ; this 
 was a new man. For a moment his own 
 hopes and fears were almost lost sight of in 
 the thought of the great change in the elder 
 man. In a tumult of feeling he went home, 
 after begging Mrs. Hardy to send him word 
 if Clara became worse or if there were any 
 service he could render the family. 
 
 Robert went back upstairs where his wife 
 sat by the side of the injured girl. 
 
 ''Mary,” he said, "I must go down to the 
 shops. You know I left word with Well- 
 man to do what he could in the office until 
 I could get down ; but this accident has made 
 it imperative that I be there myself. There 
 
140 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 are details the men cannot attend to. I can- 
 not do any more here, and I must do what I 
 can for the sufferers. God has been merciful 
 to us, dear. Our dear ones are spared to us. 
 Oh, when I heard Bessie’s voice in that helhs 
 pit it seemed to me God was taking pity on 
 me for the burden I am carrying this week! 
 And if she had been killed, I do believe I 
 should have gone mad. Pray for me, sweet- 
 heart!” 
 
 And with a kiss and embrace Robert left 
 the house ; and even in the sorrow of all her 
 trouble Mrs. Hardy felt a great wave of joy 
 flow through her at the thought of a love 
 come back to her, and as she went to the 
 window and watched the tall, strong figure 
 swing down the street, she almost felt a girl 
 again, and wondered if he would turn around 
 and see her there and toss his hat to her a.s 
 in the old days. Yes ; just before he reached 
 the corner where he had to turn he looked 
 back up at the window, saw his wife stand- 
 ing there, and took off his hat with a smile, 
 and she waved her hand at him and colored 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 14 1 
 
 as when her Robert used to do the same 
 thing while he was courting her. 
 
 ''Two fools !’’ somebody says. Yes; two ' 
 children of God, who have seen His face and 
 learned what all this life means. 
 
 He found much to do at the shops. The 
 accident necessitated special work. It 
 looked to him as if he must be down there 
 all dayr There was almost a panic in the 
 planing-rooms. The air was heavy with the 
 horror of the night before. Owing to the 
 wreck, there was more need of work in the 
 shops than ever; but along toward noon 
 Burns came into the office, pulling a long 
 face, and asking Mr. Hardy to step across 
 the yard and talk to the men, who had 
 threatened. Burns said, to do mischief if they 
 were not given the afternoon to go down to 
 the scene of the disaster. Mr. Hardy, with 
 a sinking heart, rose and followed Burns 
 into the planing-rooms. He told the fore- 
 man to get the men together in the centre 
 of the room. They stopped their machines 
 and gathered in the largest open space be- 
 
142 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 tween the planers, and Mr. Hardy addressed 
 them : 
 
 '‘What do you want? Burns tells me 
 there is dissatisfaction. Speak out so that 
 we may know what the trouble is/’ 
 
 There .was an awkward pause. Then one 
 
 'i 
 
 man spoke up: 
 
 "We think the company ought to give us 
 the day off.” 
 
 "What for?” asked Mr. Hardy mildly. 
 
 Under any other circumstances he would 
 have told the men they might leave for good 
 if they didn’t like the pay and the company. 
 He had done just that thing twice before; 
 but things were different now. He looked 
 at the men in a new light. He was a new 
 man himself. Besides, it was imperative 
 that the work in the shops go on. The 
 company could ill afford to lose the work 
 just at this particular time. All these con- 
 siderations did not blind Robert to his ob- 
 ligations as an officer of the company. He 
 was only anxious that no injustice should be 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days, 143 
 
 done, so he said, ‘'What for?’" mildly and 
 quietly, and waited for an answer. 
 
 The spokesman was not quite ready with 
 an answer. The directness of the question 
 and the mildness of it also surprised him. 
 Another man spoke up : 
 
 “Our friends was in the accident. We 
 want to go see them.’’ 
 
 “Very well. How many men had rela- 
 tives or friends in the accident who are in- 
 jured or killed? Let them step forward.” 
 There was a moment of inaction. Then 
 three men stepped out. Mr. Hardy said: 
 “You may go if you want to. Why didn’t 
 you ask for leave off if you wanted it ? What 
 reason have you to suppose the company 
 would refuse such a request? Now, what 
 is the trouble with the rest? The company 
 is not in a position to grant a holiday at this 
 particular time, and you know it. Come, be 
 fair, men! I can’t shut down the shops all 
 day to let you go and see a railroad wreck. 
 Be reasonable! What do you want?” 
 
 “We want more pay and freedom from 
 
144 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 Sunday work,” said a big fellow, the Nor- 
 wegian who ran the biggest planer in the 
 shop. He had more than once proved 
 troublesome to Burns, but he was a remark- 
 ably intelligent and skillful workman, and 
 the foreman had endured much irritation on 
 that account. 
 
 Mr. Hardy replied, still speaking pleas- 
 antly: ‘‘The matter of more pay is one we 
 cannot well discuss here now, but I will say 
 to you and all the rest that as far as it is in 
 my power there shall be no more Sunday 
 work demanded” — “while I live,” Mr. Hardy 
 was on the point of saying; but he said in- 
 stead, “of the men in the shops.” 
 
 “Still, that is not the question,” replied the 
 man in an insolent tone. Mr. Hardy looked 
 at him more closely and saw that he had 
 been drinking. Several of the workmen 
 cried out: 
 
 “Shut up, Herman ! Mr. Hardy be right ; 
 we be fools to make row now at this time.” 
 
 A dozen men started for their machines 
 to go to work again, while Burns went up 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 145 
 
 and laid his hand on the Norwegian's arm 
 and said to him roughly : 
 
 “Quit off now. You've been dipping that 
 beard of yours into a whiskey barrel. Bet« 
 ter mind your pegs, or you get your walking 
 papers." 
 
 “Mind your own, Burns," replied the big 
 man heavily. “You be somethings of a 
 beard drinker yourself, if you had the 
 beard." 
 
 Burns was so enraged at the drunken re- 
 tort that he drew back as if to strike the 
 man, when the Norwegian smote the fore- 
 man a blow that laid him sprawling in the 
 iron dust. Instantly Mr. Hardy stepped up 
 between the two men before Burns could 
 rise. We have spoken of Robert's intense 
 horror of the coarse, physical vices. It 
 seemed totally wrong to him that a work- 
 man should degrade himself with drink. 
 Besides, he could not tolerate such actions 
 in the shops. He looked the drunken man 
 in the face and said sternly : 
 
 “You are discharged! I cannot afford to 
 
146 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 employ driinlcen men in these shops. You 
 may go this instant?’' 
 
 The man leered at Mr. Hardy, raised his 
 arm as if to strike, while the manager con- 
 fronted him with a stern look ; but before he 
 could do any harm two or three of the men 
 seized him and hustled him back to the other 
 end of the shops, while Burns rose, vowing 
 vengeance. 
 
 The men went back to their machines, and 
 Mr. Hardy, with an anxious feeling of heart, 
 went back into the office, satisfied that there 
 would be no trouble at the shops for the rest 
 of the day, at least. He felt sorry that he 
 had been obliged to discharge Herman, but 
 he felt that he had done the right thing. 
 The company could not afford, in any way, 
 to employ men who were drunkards, es- 
 pecially not just at this time, when it began 
 to be more than plainly hinted that the re- 
 sult of the accident on the road was due to 
 the partial intoxication of a track inspector. 
 
 That accident was a complication in 
 Robert Hardy’s Seven Days. It was de- 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 147 
 
 manding of him precious time that he longed 
 to spend in his family. At one time in the 
 afternoon as he worked at the office, Mr. 
 Hardy was tempted to resign his position 
 and go home, come what might. But, to 
 his credit be it said, even in his most selfish 
 moments formerly, he had been faithful to 
 his duties at the office. At present no one 
 could take his place at once. He felt that 
 his duty to the company and to the public 
 demanded his services at the time of a crisis 
 in railroad matters. So he stayed and 
 worked on, praying as he worked for his 
 dear ones, and hoping, as no bad news came 
 from home, that Clara was better. He had 
 been to the telephone several times and had 
 two or three short talks with his wife; and 
 now, as it began to grow dark in the office, 
 just as the lights were turned on, the bell 
 rang again, and Mrs. Hardy called him up 
 to tell him that the minister, Mr. Jones, had 
 called and wanted to see him about some of 
 the families that were injured in the accident 
 at the foundry room. 
 
148 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 ‘"Tell Mr. Jones I will try to see him at 
 the meeting to-night.’’ (In Barton the 
 church meeting fell on Wednesday.) ^^And 
 tell him I will have something to give him 
 for what he wants. How is Clara now ?” 
 ‘‘No change yet. Will is suffering some 
 from nervousness. He says he had a hor- 
 rible dream of the accident this afternoono 
 Bess is about the same. Her escape was a 
 miracle.” 
 
 “Has George come home yet?” 
 
 “No; I am getting anxious about him. I 
 wish you would inquire about him at the 
 Bramleys as you come up to supper.” 
 
 “I will. I must leave very soon. This 
 has been a terrible day down here. God 
 keeps us. Good-by.”^ 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Robert finished most of the work, toiling 
 as never in all his life before, and started 
 for home at six. On the way he made in- 
 quiries concerning George, but nobody had 
 seen him since the evening before. When 
 he reached the house, he found that his wife, 
 utterly worn out, had lain down for a little 
 sleep, and Alice was caring for the patients 
 with a calm courage and quiet cheerfulness 
 that revealed the girl’s strong, self-reliant 
 character. Clara’s condition had not chang- 
 ed. She still lay as if sleeping. Alice re- 
 ported that once in the afternoon she had 
 moved her lips and distinctly called for 
 water. Mr. Hardy and Bess sat down to 
 the supper table by themselves, and Bess 
 again told how she had been saved from even 
 a scratch in that terrible fall. It was, in- 
 deed, remarkable that the child did not seem 
 to suffer even from the general shock and re- 
 action from the disaster. 
 
150 Robert HardyPs Seven Days, 
 
 After a brief meal, Mr. Hardy went up- 
 stairs to Clara again. His chief anxiety now 
 was for her. He believed that if the doc- 
 tor's fears were realized, she would become 
 insane. It was not possible that a person of 
 her temperament and passion could be 
 otherwise in case she should come to con- 
 sciousness of her condition. 
 
 As the evening wore on, Mr. Hardy felt 
 that his duty lay in his own home for that 
 night, and he would have to see his minister 
 some other time. He thought of the prayer 
 meeting with regret, and sat by the bed of 
 the unconscious girl, wondering how it was 
 possible that for all these years gone by he 
 had been so indifferent to one of the best and 
 most precious opportunities for growing in 
 spiritual manhood. He heard the bell ring 
 for service, and when it stopped he sat with 
 his face in his hands praying. 
 
 The prayer meeting in Mr. Jones' church 
 was generally a very quiet affair. A good 
 many people in the church, especially those 
 who came to the meeting only occasionally. 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 15 1 
 
 thought it was stupid. But it was a notice- 
 able fact that those who attended regularly 
 were the ones who did the most work in the 
 church, and the ones who grew stronger and 
 sweeter in the Christian life. There was 
 usually no regular subject given out. There 
 was very little talking done. From begin- 
 ning to close it was nearly all prayer. Mr. 
 Jones did not feel afraid of the long pauses. 
 He believed modern American life to be so 
 full of nervousness and hurry that it would 
 not hurt any one to sit still and think a min- 
 ute or two. That was the reason so many 
 people called Mr. Jones’ prayer meetings 
 dull ; because they were not rushing all the 
 time with sensational or exciting remarks 
 and incidents. Mr. Jones didn’t believe that 
 was what a prayer meeting was for, and he 
 planned for it accordingly. But this par- 
 ticular evening was an exception. The great 
 railroad accident so near them had stirred 
 the entire community to its sympathetic 
 depths. Several families in Mr. Jones’ 
 church had been sufferers. As if by tacit 
 
152 Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 
 
 consent, there was an unusually large gather- 
 ing at the church, and the subjcet was of ne- 
 cessity the recent disaster. It was a spon- 
 taneous meeting. The minister briefly 
 opened with the expressed desire that God 
 would bless the suffering, prepare the dying, 
 and comfort the living, and almost instantly 
 a service of prayer began, which was like a 
 
 flood in its continuous putpouring. The 
 
 % 
 
 people seemed urged by some irresistible 
 feeling to relieve the pent-up strain of the 
 day in prayer; and such prayers had not 
 been heard in that church for many years. 
 
 A similar scene was witnessed near the 
 White River Junction railroad disaster in 
 1887, in a church near the accident. The 
 entire morning service was given up to 
 prayer, which seemed the only healthy re- 
 lief to people suffering from an overwhelm- 
 ing horror. 
 
 It was during the first pause that occurred 
 that James Caxton opened the door and 
 gave a note to some one in the back seat, 
 with a request that it be sent up to Mr. 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 153 
 
 Jones. He then turned as if to go out, but 
 hesitated, came back, and slipped into a va- 
 cant seat and waited. Mr. Jones received 
 the note, glanced at its contents and then 
 rose. There was a singular emotion in his 
 voice as he spoke. 
 
 ‘T have just been handed a note from one 
 of our members, Mr. Robert Hardy, with 
 the request that I read it aloud to the church 
 to-night : 
 
 To yody my dear pastor, and you, my 
 brothers and sisters in Christ : — I suppose 
 it is known to most of you that three of my 
 children were on the train during the recent 
 accident, and two of them escaped with but 
 slight injuries. But my daughter Clara was 
 seriously injured by the shock, and I am at 
 this moment seated by her side, praying that 
 her reason may -be spared and her possible 
 injuries prove to be within the region of 
 cure, I had planned to be with you to-night. 
 I wanted to tell the church of the change 
 that I have lately experienced. I do not 
 
154 Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 
 
 need to tell you that for the twenty-five years 
 that I have been a member of the church I 
 have been a member only in name. I have 
 seldom appeared in any of the spiritual or 
 devotional services of the church. I have 
 often sat in an attitude of criticism to the 
 best preaching. I have been a hard man 
 with those in my employ. I have been cold 
 and even revengeful toward other members 
 of this church. I have been a very proud, 
 unchristian, selfish man. In the sight of 
 God I have been an altogether unworthv 
 member of the Church of Christ. I do not 
 take any pride to myself in making this con- 
 fession, but I feel that it is due to you, and 
 something tells me I shall have more peace 
 of mind if I speak to you as I have lately 
 prayed to God. 
 
 It is not necessary, neither have I time nor 
 strength, to tell you how I have been brought 
 to see my selfishness in all its enormity. It 
 is enough if I say to you that I most sin- 
 cerely believe that I have misunderstood 
 very largely the right meaning of human ex- 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 155 
 
 istence. I want to pray with you and for 
 you. You will let me say this also, bearing 
 with me, as this may be my last opportunity 
 to say to you what lies in my heart : Serve 
 the Church of Christ, all you who have taken 
 upon you its vows, with enthusiasm and loy- 
 alty. Stand by the superintendent of the 
 Sunday school ; attend this week-night ser- 
 vice when you can, making it the most im- 
 portant service of the week ; and, more than 
 all, live true, simple, loving Christian lives 
 every day. 
 
 It may seem strange that I am preaching 
 like this to you who have probably done 
 your duty far better than I ever did, but I 
 wish to say what lies deep in my heart to say 
 to-night. If there are any young men in the 
 meeting to-night, I want to say to them, Be- 
 come Christians at the core — not in name 
 simply, as I have been ; and above all, kneel 
 down every morning, noon, and night and 
 pray to God to keep you from a selfish life 
 
 such a life as I have lived — forgetful of 
 church vows, of the rights of the working 
 
156 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 poor, of the brother and sister in Christ. 
 Yes ; I would be willing that any young man 
 might say, ''O Lord, keep me from living as 
 selfish and useless and proud a life as Robert 
 Hardy once lived/' For that is the truth, 
 No one but God knows how I have suffered 
 at the thought of the past; how I am suf- 
 fering at the present moment. I pray that 
 any who are afflicted at this present time 
 may find peace in Him who bore the world's 
 sorrows in His great heart of love. If it 
 were not for my faith in my Saviour at this 
 time, I should be in despair. As it is, I am 
 suffering, but it is not the suffering which 
 follows an ecfipse of hope. I believe in the 
 eternal life and in the forgiveness of sins, 
 yea, even such sins as mine have been. For- 
 give so much about myself ; it is necessary 
 under the circumstances. I ask your 
 prayers for me as your petitions go up for 
 the afflicted and repentant everywhere. I 
 am, Your brother in Christ, 
 
 Robert Hardy. 
 
 The impression made by the reading of 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 157 
 
 this letter was profound. The stillness that 
 followed was deathlike. Then one of the 
 oldest men in the room rose, and in a prayer 
 of great power, prayed for the absent man 
 and thanked God for his guided strength. 
 The prayer was followed by others, and then 
 one and another of the members, who had 
 not been on really good terms with Mr, 
 Hardy, arose and confessed and asked for- 
 giveness. The hearts of the people were 
 greatly moved. Mr. Jones, contrary to his 
 usual habit, asked, as the meeting drew to a 
 close, if there were any present who wanted 
 to begin that Christian life at the core, of 
 which Mr. Hardy spoke. 
 
 'T see a number here not professing Chris- 
 tians. Are there any who would like to say 
 that they want to become Christians, and will 
 try to live the Christ-life every day?'’ 
 
 In the pause that followed, James Caxton, 
 who had been sitting in the back seat, felt as 
 if some power within and without him were 
 forcing him to his fe^t. He grasped his 
 chair as if to hold himself down; but the 
 
158 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 Holy Spirit whispered to him, ‘'Son, this will 
 be the beginning of a new life to thee/' 
 
 And so James Caxton arose and said he 
 wanted to be a Christian ; and from that mo- 
 ment he dated his strong, consecrated life — 
 a life that bids fair to become famous in the 
 world yet, and his action was the beginning 
 of a new life in that church and community; 
 but we cannot dwell on that in the course of 
 this history. Oh, Robert Hardy ! the good 
 God is blessing thee in this thy week of trial ! 
 For was it not thy word that first started this 
 young, manly soul to consider what he 
 owed to Jesus the Christ? 
 
 To come back to Robert. He had writ- 
 ten the note, beginning it just a little after 
 the bell ceased ringing, and as he finished, 
 James had come over to see if he could be of 
 any service.' The church was near by and 
 Mr. Hardy asked him to take the note over. 
 He went over to the church, with the result 
 described. He did not come back at once 
 and Mr. Hardy watched on with Alice. Will 
 slept irregularly, being troubled with his 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 1 59 
 
 dreams of the accident. Mrs. Hardy woke 
 and begged her husband to lie down and get 
 a little rest. He did so, but was aroused 
 about ten o'clock by the doctor coming in. 
 He had just finished a visit near by; he saw 
 the light and was anxious, as the case was an 
 extraordinary one, to come in. He exam- 
 ined Clara's face very keenly, and then sat 
 down by the bed for an instant. After giv- 
 ing certain medicines he found that he was 
 in need of another article, which was at his 
 house. 
 
 ‘‘I will go and get it, doctor. It's not far, 
 and I think a little fresh air will do me good 
 and help me to remain awake better," said 
 Robert. 
 
 He went downstairs, and the doctor fol- 
 lowed him as he went out into the hall and 
 flung on his overcoat. Mr. Hardy turned 
 before he opened the door: 
 
 ‘‘Doctor, tell me the truth about my girl. 
 What is her condition?" 
 
 “It is serious; but more than that I can- 
 not say. There is a possibility that by means 
 
i6o Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 of a slight operation the disastrous conse- 
 quences of the shock to her eyes may be 
 averted; and it is possible that the other re- 
 sults of which I hinted may be altogether dif-^ 
 ferent. It is not in medical power to decide 
 with certainty/’ 
 
 So Mr. Hardy went out into the night with 
 a glimmer of hope in his breast. It was 
 snowing again and a strong wind was blow- 
 ing, so he buttoned his big coat close up, 
 drew his hardown over his brows, and lean- 
 ing forward, walked as rapidly as he could 
 against the wind in the direction of the doc- 
 tor’s house. The streets were almost de- 
 serted. The lights at the corners flickered 
 and showed pale through the lamps. As he 
 turned down a narrow street, intending to 
 make a short cut across a park that lay near 
 the doctor’s, he was suddenly seized by three 
 or four young men, and one of them said in 
 a tone which betrayed a drunken debauch: 
 
 '‘Hold up your hands and deliver! You’ve 
 got plenty of chink and we haven’t! So no 
 squalling or we’ll shoot you for it.” 
 
Robert Hardyh Seven Days. i6i 
 
 Mr. Hardy was taken completely by sur- 
 prise. But he was a vigorous, athletic man, 
 and his first impulse was to shake himself 
 loose, to knock down two of his assailants 
 next to him and make a run for it. His next 
 glance, however, showed him the nature of 
 the group of young men. They were not 
 professional robbers, but young men about 
 town who had been drinking late and were 
 evidently out on a lark, and were holding 
 him up just for fun. Mr. Hardy guessed 
 exactly right. What could he do? Two of 
 the young men were known to him, the sons 
 of the Bramleys, who were well-to-do peo- 
 ple in Barton. Mr. Hardy's next impulse 
 was to discover himself to them and beg 
 them to quit such dangerous fooling and go 
 home. The three other young men were in 
 shadow and he could not tell them. All this* 
 passed through his thought with a flash. 
 But before he had time to do anything, a 
 police officer sprang out of a doorway near 
 by, and the group of young men, dropping 
 their hold of Mr. Hardy, fled in different di- 
 
1 62 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 rections. The officer made pursuit, and 
 after a short run, captured one of the young 
 men, whom, after vigorous resistance, he 
 dragged back to where Mr. Hardy stood, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 ‘'Here's one of the rascals, sir ! I heard 
 ’em when they held you up. We’ve been 
 looking for this gang some time now. Just 
 identify this one, if he is the one that just 
 now grabbed ye, sir.” 
 
 Under the light of the lamp the policeman 
 dragged the form of his victim and roughly 
 struck up his hat. At that instant Mr. 
 Hardy looked into his face and cried out: 
 “George! Is it you?” 
 
 And the son replied as he started back : 
 “Father!” 
 
 The two looked at each other in silence, 
 while the snow fell in whirling flakes about 
 them. 
 
 And this was the end of Robert Hardy’s 
 third day. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at his son sternly, 
 standing at the little distance off as he had 
 recoiled after that first recognition of the 
 boy. It would be difficult to describe his 
 emotions. He had never been an affection- 
 ate father to his boys. He had generally 
 given them money when they asked for it, 
 and had not questioned them about its use. 
 He was not familiar with his older son's 
 habits, and only within the last few days had 
 he known that he was what the age popu- 
 larly designates as ^‘fast." He had never 
 made a companion of his son; he had not 
 grown up with him ; so that now as he faced 
 him under the strange circumstances that 
 had brought them together, he was actually 
 at a loss to know what to do or say. The 
 thought that his son was guilty of a crime 
 which might put him behind prison bars did 
 
164 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 not yet occur to his mind. He was only 
 conscious of a great longing to get back 
 home and there have a thorough talk with 
 his boy, in the hope of winning him to bet- 
 ter things. But he must say something to 
 George. 
 
 The police officer stared in wonder after 
 the first startled cry of '^Father!’' on the part 
 of the young man, but he did not loosen his 
 hold on him. He took an extra twist in the 
 coat colar of his captive, and looked sharply 
 at Mr. Hardy, as much as to say: ‘‘He may 
 be your son, but he’s my victim, and I mean 
 to keep a good clutch on him.” 
 
 George was the first to speak : 
 
 “Father, you know I wouldn’t do such a 
 thing really. We were only out for a little 
 fun. We didn’t know you, of course. We 
 didn’t mean any real harm ; we were only 
 fooling.” 
 
 “It was dangerous fooling,” replied his 
 father. He still stood apart from the boy and 
 spoke quietly, but his face was pale and his 
 heart was wrung with torture for his first- 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 165 
 
 born. Ah, how careless of him he had been ! 
 How little companionship the two had had! 
 How very little help the boy had received 
 from the man! Now, believing that only 
 four more days lay before him to use to the 
 glory of God, Robert Hardy felt the sting of 
 that bitterest of all bitter feelings, useless re- 
 gret, the regret that does not carry with it 
 any hope of redeeming a selfish past. 
 
 After his father had spoken, George sul- 
 lenly remained silent. Mr. Hardy bowed his 
 head and seemed thinking. The officer, who 
 had been waiting for another move on the 
 part of the older man, said : 
 
 ‘‘Well, we must be moving on. It's 
 warmer in the lockup than out here ; so come 
 along, young fellow, and do your talking 
 to-morrow morning with the rest of the 
 drunks and disorderlies." 
 
 “Stop!" cried Robert Hardy. “This is 
 my son! Do you understand? What are 
 you going to do ?" 
 
 “Well, governor, that's a pretty question 
 at this time o' day. Do ! Fm going to jug 
 
1 66 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 him for assault with intent to commit high- 
 way robbery. It’s an affair for the 'pen/ I 
 can tell you.” 
 
 "But you heard him say it was all a joke.’' 
 "A pretty joke to try to hold a man up on 
 the highway and demand his money ! Oh, 
 no ! That’s carrying a joke too far. I’m 
 bound to obey orders. We’ve been after 
 this gang of young chaps for a month now.” 
 "But, officer, you don’t understand; this 
 is my son !” 
 
 "Well, what of that? Don’t we jug sons 
 every day for some deviltry or other? Do 
 you suppose you are the only father whose 
 son is going to the devil ?” 
 
 "O God, no !” cried Mr. Hardy with sud- 
 den passion. "But this is my older boy. It 
 would kill his mother to have him arrested 
 and put in jail for trying to rob his own 
 father. Yet he was once innocent — What 
 am I saying? He might be now if I had 
 done my duty.” 
 
 Mr. Hardy confronted the officer with a 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 167 
 
 certain sorrowful dignity which even that 
 hardened defender of the law understood. 
 
 ‘'Officer, let the boy go. I will answer for 
 it if any blame falls on you for it. He was 
 not at fault in this matter. He was not the 
 one who assaulted me. He did not touch 
 me. You could not get a particle of testi- 
 mony against him. . And, besides that, it is 
 necessary that he return with me. This is a 
 case for the law of God; this belongs to a 
 higher court.’' 
 
 The officer hesitated ; Mr. Hardy stepped 
 nearer his son. 
 
 “George,’’ he said, as if forgetting for a 
 moment that the officer was present, “did 
 you know that Clara and Bess and Will were 
 in the accident last night?” 
 
 George turned pale and tremblingly re- 
 plied, “No, father. Were they hurt. Was 
 
 Bess ” The boy seemed moved as his 
 
 father had not yet seen him. 
 
 “No ; they were not ; that is, Bess was not 
 hurt at all. But Will was severely bruised, 
 and Clara still lies in a state of stupor or un- 
 
1 68 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 consciousness and we do not know what thd 
 end will be. I was on my way just now to 
 get some needed articles from the doctor’s 
 house. You must come back with me; the 
 law has no hold on you.” 
 
 “Maybe the law hasn’t any hold on him, 
 but Michael Finnerty has. I don’t just like 
 the idea, mister man, of letting the boy go 
 yet,” replied the stubborn and unusually 
 dutiful officer. 
 
 Mr. Hardy began to appeal to the man’s 
 love of his own children. It did not seem to 
 move him in the least, until ^he mentioned 
 the fact that it was cruelty to keep the suffer- 
 ing girl at home waiting for her father’s re- 
 turn. 
 
 Mr. Finnerty finally loosened his hold on 
 George and said slowly and painfully: “An’ 
 if I lose me job I’ll be knbwin’ who was to 
 blame for it. I always told Michael Fin- 
 nerty that he was too soft-hearted to go on 
 the force!” 
 
 “You won’t suffer, officer. Many thanks! 
 Come, George.” 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days, 169 
 
 And father and son moved off together, 
 while the defender of the law stood irreso- 
 lute, watching them disappear through the 
 storm, and muttering to himself, ‘‘Fm a soft- 
 hearted fool. I ought to ’a’ been born a fe- 
 male hospital nurse, I had.'’ 
 
 During that walk home, after Mr. Hardy 
 had gone around by the doctor's with 
 George, not a word was exchanged. The 
 storm was increasing. The two walked 
 along in silence ; but when George walked 
 into the hall at home he turned and saw a 
 look on his father's face that smote him to 
 the heart, for he was not yet a hardened soul. 
 Mr. Hardy had lived years in that experi- 
 ence. No one could tell how his heart had 
 been tortured by what he had endured that 
 night ; but the mark of it was stamped physi- 
 cally on his face, and he knew that he would 
 bear it to his grave. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy came running downstairs as 
 the two came in, and as George turned and 
 faced her she held out her arms, crying : '‘My 
 
170 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 boy! my boy! We have been so anxious 
 about you !"' 
 
 What! not one word of reproach, of re- 
 buke, of question as to what he had been 
 doing all this time that the family had been 
 suffering! No; not one word. Ah, mother 
 love ! It is the most wonderful thing on 
 earth, next to the love of God for the sinner. 
 It is even that, for it is the love of God ex- 
 pressing itself through the mother, who is 
 the temple of the loving God. 
 
 George dashed away a tear, and then 
 going up to his mother, laid his cheek 
 against hers, and she folded her arms about 
 him and cried a little and asked no questions, 
 and after a moment's silence he stammered 
 out a few words of sorrow at having caused 
 her pain, and she joyfully accepted his broken 
 explanation of how he had not known of the 
 accident to Clara and the others. It was 
 true he had gone out the evening before, 
 fully intending to go down to the scene of 
 the accident ; but coming across some of his 
 old companions he had gone off with them, 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 171 
 
 apd spent the night in a disgraceful carouse. 
 And throughout the day had been under the 
 influence of liquor, more or less, dimly con- 
 scious that a great disaster had happened 
 down the road, but not enough sober to re- 
 alize its details or its possible connection 
 with those of his own home. 
 
 The sudden meeting with his father had 
 startled him out of the drowsy intoxication he 
 had fallen into as the day progressed. Now, 
 as he felt his mother’s arms around him and 
 realized a little what the family had been 
 called upon to endure, he felt the shame and 
 disgrace of his own conduct. 
 
 Mr. Hardy went upstairs and consulted 
 with the doctor, who wondered at his pro- 
 tracted absence. There was no change in 
 Clara yet. She lay in a condition which 
 could not be called a trance nor a sleep. She 
 did not seem to be in any great pain ; but she 
 was unconscious of all outside conditions. 
 
 After a little talk with his mother, George 
 came up and inquired after Bess and Will. 
 They were both sleeping, and after the doc- 
 
172 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 tor had gone out the father and mother and 
 son sat down together in the room where 
 Clara lay. 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not say a word to George 
 about the incident of the evening. The 
 shame of it was too great yet. When men 
 of Mr. Hardy’s self-contained, repressed, 
 proud nature are pained, it is with an intense 
 inward fire of passion that cannot bear to 
 break out into words. 
 
 George had sense enough to offer to re- 
 lieve his parents of the burden of watching 
 during the night, and during the exchange of 
 watchers along toward morning, as Mrs. 
 Hardy slipped into the room to relieve the 
 boy, she found him kneeling down at a couch 
 with his face buried in the cushions. She 
 raised her face in thanksgiving to God and 
 went softly out. 
 
 The morning dawned gray with snow 
 which still whirled in wreaths about the sor- 
 rowing homes of Barton ; but Robert Hardy 
 thought of the merciful covering it would 
 make for the ghastly piles of ruin down under 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 173 
 
 the bridge and along the banks of the river. 
 He said to himself, ''This is my fourth day ; 
 how can I best spend it ? What shall I do T' 
 He kneeled and prayed, and rose somewhat - 
 refreshed. 
 
 The forenoon went rapidly by, and before 
 he knew it noon was near. The time had 
 passed in watching Clara, visiting with Bess 
 and Will, and doing some necessary work 
 for the company in his little office downstairs. 
 He did not feel like saying anything to 
 George yet. James Caxton had been in, and 
 the first thing he had mentioned had been his 
 own act in the meeting the night before. 
 Mr. Hardy thanked God for it, and a prayer 
 went out of his heart for his own son, that 
 the Spirit might touch him in his ’sin and 
 bring him into the light of Christ. 
 
 A little after noon the storm cleared up 
 and "Robert prepared to go down to the 
 shops. Clara had not yet come out of her 
 stupor. The doctor had called and done 
 what he could. There was nothing in par- 
 ticular that Mr. Hardy could do in the case. 
 
174 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 
 
 so he went out about one o'clock and en- 
 tered his office at the shop, hoping* as he 
 went in that he would have no trouble with 
 the men. 
 
 Mr. Burns reported everything quiet, and 
 the manager, with a sigh of relief, proceeded 
 with the, routine duties of the business. 
 Nothing of any special interest occurred 
 through the afternoon. The storm had 
 ceased entirely and the sun had come out 
 clear and warm. People were clearing of? 
 the walks, and the ringing of sleigh bells was 
 distinct in the office, even over the incessant 
 hum of the big engine. 
 
 Toward three o'clock one of Mr. Hardy's 
 old friends, an officer of the road, came in 
 and said there was a general movement on 
 foot through Barton to hold a monster mass- 
 meeting in the Town Hall for the benefit of 
 the sufferers, both in the railroad accident 
 and in the explosion of the Sunday before 
 in the shops. It was true the company 
 would settle for damages, but in many cases 
 through Barton the adjustment of claims 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 175 
 
 would not be made until much suffering and 
 hardship had been endured. There was a 
 common feeling on the part of the towns- 
 people that a meeting for public conference 
 would result in much good, and there was, 
 also, as has been the case in other large hor- 
 rors, a craving to relieve the strain of feeling 
 by public gathering and consultation. 
 
 '‘Can you come out to the meeting, 
 Hardy?’’ asked his friend. 
 
 Ml . Hard}^ thought a minute and replied, 
 "Yes; I think I can.” Already an idea had 
 taken shape in his mind which he could not 
 help feeling was inspired by God% 
 
 "Might be a good thing if you could come 
 prepared to make some remarks. I find 
 there is a disposition on the part of the pub- 
 lic to charge the road with carelessness and 
 mismanagement.”* 
 
 "I’ll say a word or two,” replied Mr. 
 Hardy; and after a brief talk on business 
 matters his friend went out. 
 
 Robert immediately sat down to his desk 
 and for an hour, interrupted only by an oc- 
 
176 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 casional item of business brought to him by 
 his secretary, he jotted down copious notes. 
 The thought which had come to him when 
 his friend suggested the meeting was this : 
 he would go and utter a message that burned 
 within him, a message which the events of 
 the past few days made imperative should be 
 uttered. He went home absorbed in the 
 great idea. He had once in his younger 
 days been famous for his skill in debate; he 
 had no fear of his power to deliver a message 
 of life at the present crisis in his own. He at 
 once spoke of the meeting to his wife. 
 
 ‘‘Mary, what do you say? I know every 
 minute is precious. I owe to you and these 
 dear ones at home a very sacred duty; but 
 no less, it seems to me, is my duty to the so- 
 ciety where I have lived all these years, doing 
 literally nothing for its uplift toward God, 
 who gave us all life and power. I feel as if 
 He would put a message into my mouth that 
 would prove a blessing to this community. 
 It seems to me this special opportunity is 
 providential/’ 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 177 
 
 '^Robert/' replied his wife, smiling at him 
 through happy tears, ‘'it is the will of God. 
 Do your duty as He makes it clear to you/^ 
 
 It had been an agitating week to the wife. 
 She anticipated its close with a feeling akin 
 to terror. What would the end be? She 
 was compelled to say to herself that her hus- 
 band was not insane ; but the thought that 
 he was really to be called out of the world in 
 some mysterious manner at the end of the 
 rapidly approaching Sunday had several 
 times come over her with a power that 
 threatened her own reason. Nevertheless, 
 the week, so far, in spite of its terror and agi- 
 tation, had a sweet joy for her. Her hus- 
 band had come back to her, the lover as he 
 once had been, only with the added tender- 
 ness of all the years of their companionship. 
 She thanked the Father for it, and when the 
 hour came for Robert to go down to the 
 meeting she blessed him and prayed heaven 
 to make his words to the people like the 
 words of God. 
 
 “Father, what do you want me to do? 
 
178 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 Shall I stay here?'' asked George, who had 
 not stirred out of the house all day. He had 
 watched by Clara faithfully. She was still in 
 that mysterious condition of unconsciousness 
 which made her case so puzzling to the doc- 
 tor. 
 
 Mr. Hardy hesitated a moment, then said ; 
 ^‘No, George; I would like to have you go 
 with me. Alice can do all that is necessary. 
 But let us all pray together now before we 
 go out. The Lord is leading us mysteri- 
 ously, but we shall some time know the rea- 
 son why." 
 
 So, in the room where Clara lay, they all 
 kneeled down, except Will, who lay upon a 
 lounge near his unconscious sister. Mr. 
 Hardy, as he clasped his wife's hand in his 
 own, poured out his soul in this petition : 
 
 ‘'Dear Lord, we know Thou dost love us, 
 even though we cannot always know why 
 Thou dost allow suffering and trouble; and 
 we would thank Thee for the things that can- 
 not be destroyed, for the loves that cannot 
 suffer death, for the wonderful promises of 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 179 
 
 the life to come. Only we have been so care- 
 less of the things that belong to Thy king- 
 dom ! We have been so selfish and forget- 
 ful of the great needs and sufferings and sins 
 of earth. Pardon us, gracious Redeemer! 
 Pardon me, for I am the chief offender. Yea, 
 Lord, even as the robber on the cross was 
 welcomed into Paradise, welcome Thou me. 
 But we pray for our dear ones. May they 
 recover! Make this beloved one who now 
 lies unknowing among us to come back into 
 the universe of sense and sound, to know us 
 and smile upon us again. We say, 'Thy will 
 be done/ Grand wisdom, for Thou knowest 
 best; only our hearts will cry out for help 
 and Thou knowest our hearts better than any 
 one else. Bless me this night as I stand be- 
 fore the people. This is no selfish prayer, 
 dear Lord. I desire only Thy glory ; I pray 
 only for Thy kingdom. But Thou hast ap- 
 pointed my days to live. Thou hast sent me 
 the message and I cannot help feeling the 
 solemn burden and joy of it. I will say to 
 the people that Thou art most important of 
 
i8o Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 all in this habitation of the fleshc And now 
 bless us all. Give us new hearts. Make us 
 to feel the true meaning of existence here. 
 Reveal to us Thy splendor. Forgive all the 
 past and make impossible in the children the 
 mistakes of the parent. Deliver us from 
 evil, and Thine shall be the Kingdom forever. 
 Amen.’’ 
 
 When Mr. Hardy and George reached the 
 Town Hall they found a large crowd gather- 
 ing; they had some difficulty in gaining en- 
 trance. Mr. Hardy at once passed up to the 
 platform, where the chairman of the meeting 
 greeted him and said he would expect him to 
 make some remarks during the evening. 
 Robert sat down at one end of the platform 
 and watched the hall fill with people, nearly 
 all well known to him. There was an un- 
 usually large crowd of boys and young men. 
 Beside a large gathering of his own men 
 from the shops, together with a great num- 
 ber of citizens and business men — a repre- 
 sentative audience for the place; brought to- 
 gether under the influence of the disaster and 
 
Robert HardyPs Seven Days. i8r 
 
 feeling somewhat the breaking down of arti- 
 ficial social distinctions in the presence of the 
 grim leveler Death, who had come so near to 
 them the last few days. 
 
 There were the usual opening exercises 
 common to such public gatherings. Sev- 
 eral well-known business men and two or 
 three of the ministers, including Mr. Jones, 
 made appropriate addresses. The attention 
 of the great audience was not labored for, 
 the occasion itself being enough to throw 
 over the people the spell of subdued quiet. 
 When the chairman announced that ‘'Mr. 
 Robert Hardy, our well-known railroad 
 manager, will now address us,'’ there was a 
 movement of curiosity and some surprise, 
 and many a man leaned forward and won- 
 dered in -his heart what the wealthy railroad 
 man would have to say on such an occasion. 
 He had never appeared as a speaker in pub- 
 lic, and he passed generally in Barton for the 
 cold, selfish, haughty man he had always 
 been. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mr. Hardy began in a low, clear tone : 
 ^'Men and women of Barton : To-night I 
 am not the man you have known me these 
 twenty-five years I have been among you. I 
 am, by the grace of God, a new creature. As 
 I stand here I have no greater desire in my 
 heart than to say what may prove to be a 
 blessing to all my old townspeople and to my 
 employes and to these strong young men and 
 boys. Within a few short days God has 
 shown me the selfishness of a human being’s 
 heart, and that heart was my own; and it is 
 with feelings none of you can ever know that 
 I look into your faces and say these words.” 
 Robert paused a moment as if gathering 
 himself up for the effort that followed, and 
 the audience, startled with an unexpected 
 emotion by the strange beginning, thrilled 
 with excitement, as, lifting his arm and rais- 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 183 
 
 ing his voice, the once cold and proud man, 
 his face and form glowing with the trans- 
 figuration of a new manhood : 
 
 ''There is but one supreme law in this 
 world, and it is this : Love God and your 
 neighbor with heart, mind, soul, strength. 
 And there are but two things worth living 
 for:, the glory of God, and the salvation of 
 man. To-night I, who look into eternity 
 in a sense which I will not stop to explain, 
 feel the bitterness which comes from the 
 knowledge that I have broken that law and 
 have not lived for those things which alone 
 are worth living for. But God has sent me 
 here to-night with a message to the people 
 which my heart must deliver. It is a duty 
 even more sacred in some ways than what I 
 owe to my own kindred. I am aware that 
 the hearts of the people are shocked into 
 numbness by the recent horror. I know that 
 more than one bleeding heart is in this house 
 and the shadow of the last enemy has fallen 
 over many thresholds in our town. What! 
 did I not enter into the valley of the shadow 
 
184 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 of death myself as I stumbled over the 
 ghastly ruins of that wreck, my soul torn in 
 twain for the love of three of my own dear 
 children? Do I not sympathize in full with 
 all those who bitterly weep and lament and 
 sit in blackness of horror this night? Yea: 
 but, men of Barton, why is it that we are so 
 moved, so stirred, so shocked by the event of 
 death, when the far more awful event of life 
 does not disturb us in the least? We shud- 
 der with terror, we lose our accustomed pride 
 or indifference, we speak in whispers and we 
 tread softly in the presence of the visitor who 
 smites but once and then smites the body 
 only ; but in the awful presence of the living 
 image of God we go our ways careless, in- 
 different, cold, passionless, selfish. 
 
 know whereof I speak, for I have 
 walked through the world like that myself. 
 And yet, death cannot be compared for one 
 moment with Jife for majesty, for solemnity, 
 for meaning, for power. There were sev- 
 enty-five persons killed in the accident. But 
 in the papers this morning I read in the col- 
 
Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 185 
 
 umn next to that in which the accident was 
 paraded, in small type and in the briefest of 
 paragraphs, the statement that a certain 
 young man in this very town of ours had 
 been arrested for forging his father’s name on 
 a check and was a fugitive from the law. 
 And every day in this town and in every 
 town all over the world events like that, and 
 worse than that, are of frequent occurrence. 
 Nay, in this very town of ours more than 
 seventy-tTve souls are at this very moment 
 going down into a far blacker hell of destruc- 
 tion than the one down there under that fated 
 bridge, and the community is not horrified 
 over it. How many mass-meetings have 
 ^een held in this town within the last twenty- 
 five years over the losses of character, the 
 death of purity, the destruction of 
 honesty? Yet they have outnumbered the 
 victims of this late physical disaster a thou- 
 sandfold. And what does mere death do? 
 It releases the spirit from its house of earth, 
 but aside from that, death does nothing to 
 the person. But what does life do? Life 
 
1 86 Robert Hardyh Seven Days. 
 
 does everything. It prepares for heaven or 
 for hell. It starts impulses, molds character, 
 fixes character. Death has no kingdom 
 without end. Death is only the last enemy 
 of the many enemies that life knows. Death 
 is a second ; life is an eternity. O men, 
 brothers, if, as I solemnly and truly believe, 
 this is the last opportunity I shall have to 
 speak to you in such large numbers, I desire 
 you to remember, when I have vanished from 
 your sight, that I spent nearly my last breath 
 in an appeal to you to make the most of 
 daily life, to glorify God and save men ! 
 
 ''The greatest enemy of man is not death ; 
 it is selfishness. He sits on the throne of the 
 entire world. This very disaster which has 
 filled the town with sorrow was due to selfish- 
 ness. Let us see if that is not so. It has 
 been proved by investigation already made 
 that the drunkenness of a track inspector was 
 the cause of the accident. What was the 
 cause of that drunkenness? The drinking 
 habits of that inspector. How did he acquire 
 them? In a saloon which we taxpayers al- 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 187 
 
 low to run on payment of a certain sum of 
 money into our town treasury. So, then, it 
 was the greed or selfishness of the men of 
 this town which lies at the bottom of this 
 dreadful disaster. Who was to blame for the 
 disaster? The track inspector? No. The 
 saloon-keeper who sold him the liquor? No, 
 Who then? We ourselves, my brothers; we 
 who licensed the selling of the stuff which 
 turned a man's brain into liquid fire and 
 smote his judgment and reason with a brand 
 from out the burning pit. If I had stumbled 
 upon the three corpses of my own children 
 night before last, I could have exclaimed in 
 justice before the face of God, T have mur- 
 dered my own children,' for I was one of the 
 men of Barton to vote for the license which 
 made possible the drunkenness of the man in 
 whose care were placed hundreds of lives. 
 
 “For what is the history of this case? 
 Who was this wretched track inspector? A 
 man who, to my own knowledge, trembled 
 before temptation ; who, on the testimony of 
 the foreman at the shops, was, and always 
 
1 88 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 had been, a sober man up to the time when 
 we, as a municipality voted to replace the 
 system of no license with the saloon, for the 
 sake of what we thought was a necessary 
 revenue. This man had no great temptation 
 to drink while the saloon was out of the way. 
 Its very absence was his salvation. But its 
 public open return confronted his appetite 
 once more, and he yielded and fell. Who 
 says he was to blame? Who are the real 
 criminals in the case? We ourselves, citi- 
 zens, we who, for the greed of gain, for the 
 saving of that which has destroyed more 
 souls in hell than any other one thing, made 
 possible the causes which led to the grief and 
 trouble of this hour. Would we not shrink 
 in terror from the thought of lying in wait 
 to kill a man? Would we not repel with 
 holy horror the idea of murdering and maim- 
 ing seventy-five people ? We would say im- 
 possible!’ Yet, when I am ushered at last 
 into the majestic presence of Almighty God, 
 I feel convinced I shall see in his righteous 
 countenance the sentence of our condemna- 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 189 
 
 tion just as certainly as if we had gone out 
 in a body and by wicked craft had torn out 
 the supporting timbers of that bridge just 
 before the train thundered upon it. For did 
 we not sanction by law a business which we 
 know tempts men to break all the laws; 
 which fills our jails and poorhouses, our re- 
 formatories and asylums ; which breaks 
 women’s hearts and beggars blessed homes 
 and sends innocent children to thread the 
 paths of shame and vagrancy; which brings 
 pallor into the face of the wife and tosses 
 with the devil’s own glee a thousand victims 
 into perdition with every revolution of this 
 great planet about its greater sun ? 
 
 ‘‘Men of Barton, say what we will, we are 
 the authors of this dreadful disaster. And if 
 we sorrow as a community, we sorrow in re- 
 ality for our own selfish act. And oh, the 
 selfishness of it! That clamoring greed for 
 money ! That burning thirst for more, and 
 more, and more, at the expense of every 
 godlike quality, at the ruin of all that our 
 mothers once prayed might belong to us as 
 
190 Robert Hardys Seven DaySo 
 
 men and women ! What is it, ye merchants, 
 ye business men, here to-night, that ye strug- 
 gle most over? The one great aim of your 
 lives is to buy for as little as possible and 
 sell for as much as possible. What care have 
 ye for the poor who work at worse than star-, 
 vation wages, so long as ye can bu*y cheap 
 and sell at large profits? What is the high- 
 est aim of us railroad men in the great whirl 
 of commercial competition which seethes and 
 boils and surges about this earth like another 
 atmosphere, plainly visible to the devils of 
 other worlds? What is our aim but to make 
 money our god and power our throne ? How 
 much care or love is there for flesh and 
 blood at times when there is danger of losing 
 almighty dollars? But, oh. Almighty Sav- 
 iour ! it was not for this that we were made ! 
 We know it was not. 
 
 ^‘To whom am I speaking? To myself. 
 God forbid that I should stand here to con- 
 demn you, being myself the chief of sinners 
 for these twenty-five years. What have I 
 done to bless this community? How much 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 19 1 
 
 have I cared for the men in my employ? 
 What difference did it make to me that my 
 example drove men away from the Church 
 of Christ, and caused anguish to those few 
 souls who were trying to redeem humanity? 
 Tp my just shame I make answer that no one 
 thing has driven the engine of my existence 
 over the track of its destiny except self. And 
 oh, for that Church of Christ that I professed 
 to believe in! How much have I done for 
 that ? How much, O fellow members (and I 
 see many of you here to-night), how much 
 have we done in the best cause ever known 
 and the greatest organization ever founded? 
 We go to church after reading the Sunday 
 morning paper, saturated through and 
 through with the same things we have had 
 poured into us every day of the week, as if 
 we begru(!ged the whole of one day out of 
 seven. We criticise prayer and hymn and 
 sermon, drop into the contribution box half 
 the amount we paid during the week for a 
 theatre or concert ticket, and then when any- 
 thing goes wrong in the community, or our 
 
192 Robert Hardfs Seven Days, 
 
 children fall into vice, scorning the church for 
 weakness and the preacher for lack of ability. 
 Shame on us, men of Barton, members of 
 the Church of Christ, that we have so neg- 
 lected our own church prayer meeting, that 
 out of a resident membership of more than 
 four hundred, living in easy distance of the 
 church, only sixty have attended regularly 
 and over two hundred have been to that ser- 
 vice only occasionally. Yet we call ourselves 
 disciples of Christ! We say we believe in 
 His blessed teachings ; we say we believe in 
 prayer, and in the face of all these profes- 
 . sions we turn our backs with indifference on 
 the very means of spiritual growth and power 
 which the Church places within our reach. 
 If Christ were to come to the earth to-day, 
 He would say unto us : 'Woe unto you, 
 church members, hypocrites!" He would 
 say ^ unto us : 'Woe unto you, young 
 
 disciples in name, who have promised to 
 love and serve me, and then, ashamed of 
 testifying before men, have broken promise 
 and prayer, and ridicule those who have kept 
 
Robert Hardy* s Seven Days. 193 
 
 their vows sacredly!’ He would say to us 
 men who have made money and kept it to 
 ourselves : ^Woe unto you, ye rich men, who 
 dress softly and dine luxuriously and live in 
 palaces, while the poor cry aloud for judg- 
 ment and the laborer sweats for the luxury 
 of the idle ! Woe unto you who speculate in 
 flesh and blood, and call no man brother un- 
 less he lives in as fine a house and has as 
 much money in the bank! Therefore, ye 
 shall receive the greater condemnation !’ 
 
 Self ! god of the earth yet ! With two 
 thousand years of the Son of God written into 
 its history, still goes up the cry of those who 
 perish with hunger, who break into the sanc- 
 tuary of their souls, because they cannot get 
 work to do and are weary of the struggle of 
 existence. Self! thou art king; not Jesus 
 Christ! But, oh, for the shame of it! the 
 shame of it ! Were it not for the belief in the 
 mighty forgiveness of sins, I would stands 
 here to-night with no hope of ever seeing 
 the paradise of God. But, resting in that 
 hope, I wish to say to you who have beheld 
 
194 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 the example of my selfish life, I repudiate it 
 all. In the world I have passed as a moral 
 citizen and a good business man ; in society 
 there has been no objection to my presence, 
 on account of my wealth and position ; in the 
 church I have been tolerated because I gave 
 it financial support; but in the sight of that 
 perfect Crucified Lamb of God, I have bro- 
 ken the two greatest laws which he ever an- 
 nounced. I have been a sinner of the deep- 
 est dye ; I have been everything except a dis- 
 ciple of Jesus Christ. I have prayed for 
 mercy. I believe my prayer has been an- 
 swered. 
 
 ‘‘I am conscious that some here present 
 may think that what I have said has been in 
 poor taste ; that it has been an affront to the 
 object of the meeting or an insult to the feel- 
 ings of those who have called the audience 
 together. In order that the people may 
 know that I am sincere in all I have said, I 
 will say that I have placed in the bank the 
 sum of $10,000 to be used as the committee 
 may deem wisest and best in the education of 
 
Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 195 
 
 children in bereaved homes, or in any way 
 that shall be for the best good of those in 
 need. This money is God's. I have robbed 
 Him and my brother man all these years. 
 Whatever restitution I can make in the next 
 few days I desire to m.ake. 
 
 '‘But the great question with us all, my 
 friends, is not this particular disaster. That 
 will in time take its place as one event out of 
 thousands in the daily life of this world. The 
 great event of existence is not death, it is 
 life. And the great question of the world is 
 not the tariff nor the silver question nor the 
 labor question nor temperance nor this nor 
 that nor the other. The great question of 
 the whole world is selfishness in the heart of 
 man. The great command is, 'Seek ye first 
 the kingdom of God.' If we had done that 
 in this town, I believe such a physical disas- 
 ter as the one we lament would never have 
 happened. That is our great need. 
 
 "If we go home from this meeting re- 
 solved to rebuke our selfishness in whatever 
 form it is displeasing to God, and if we begin 
 
196 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 to-morrow to act out that resolution in word 
 and deed, we shall revolutionize this town in 
 its business, its politics, its church, its 
 schools, its homes. If we , simply allow our 
 emotions to be stirred, our sympathies to be 
 excited to the giving of a little money on this 
 occasion, it will do us and the community 
 little permanent good. God wants a com- 
 plete transformation in the people of this na- 
 tion. Nothing less than a complete regene- 
 ration can save us from destruction. Un- 
 consecrated, selfish money and selfish educa- 
 tion, selfish political power and selfish genius 
 in art, letters and diplomacy will sink us as a 
 people into a gulf of annihilation. There^ 
 no salvation for us except in Jesus Christ. 
 Let us believe in Him and live in Him. 
 
 have said my message. I trust you 
 have understood it. I would not say other- 
 wise if I knev/ that I should step off this plat- 
 form now and stand before the judgment 
 seat of Christ. God help us all to do our 
 duty ! Time is short, eternity is long. Death 
 is nothing: life is everything.’’ 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 197 
 
 Five years after this speech of Robert 
 Hardy to the people of Barton in the Town 
 Hall, one who was present in the audience 
 described the sensation that passed through 
 it when the speaker sat down, to be like a 
 distinct electric shock which passed from seat 
 to seat, and held the people fixed and breath- 
 less as if they had been smitten into images 
 of stone. The effect on the chairman of the 
 meeting was the same. He sat motionless. 
 Then a wave of emotion gradually stirred the 
 audience, and without a word of dismission 
 they poured out of the building and scattered 
 to their homes. 
 
 Robert found George waiting for him. 
 The father was almost faint with the reaction 
 from his address. George gave his arm and 
 the two walked home in silence. 
 
 We must pass over hastily the events of 
 the next day in Robert Hardy's life. The 
 whole town was talking about his surprising 
 address of the night before. Some thought 
 he was crazy. Others regarded him as sin- 
 cere, but after the first effect of his speech 
 
198 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 had worn off, they criticised him severely for 
 presuming to ''preach’' on such an occasion. 
 Still others were puzzled to account for the 
 change in the man, for that a change had 
 taken place could not be denied. How slow 
 men are to acknowledge the power of God in 
 the human heart ! Mr. Hardy went about 
 his business, very little moved by all this dis- 
 cussion. He realized that only two more 
 days remained. 
 
 He spent the afternoon and evening at 
 home, but was interrupted by several calls. 
 After tea the entire family gathered in the 
 room where Clara lay. She still remained 
 unconscious, but living. As Mrs. Hardy was 
 saying -something to her husband about his 
 dream and the events of the day before, Clara 
 suddenly opened her eyes and distinctly 
 called out the words : 
 
 "Father! what day is it?” • 
 
 It was like a voice out of the long-dead 
 past, Mr. Hardy, sitting by the side of the 
 bed, replied quietly, while his heart beat 
 quickly : 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 199 
 
 ‘'This is Friday night, dear child/' 
 
 Another question came, uttered in the 
 same strange voice : 
 
 “Father, how many more days are left for 
 you V 
 
 “To-morrow and Sunday." 
 
 The voice came again : 
 
 “I shall go with you then." 
 
 The eyes closed and the form became mo- 
 tionless as before. 
 
 It was very quiet in the room at the close 
 of Robert Hardy's fifth day. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 Those words of Clara, 'T shall go with you 
 then,'' filled the family with dismay. Mr. 
 Hardy bowed his head and groaned. MrSc 
 Hardy, almost beside herself with grief and 
 terror, flew to the side of the girl, and, with 
 beseeching cries and caresses, tried to bring 
 back to consciousness the mind that for a 
 moment or two had gleamed with reason and 
 then had gone back into the obscurity and 
 oblivion of that mysterious condition in 
 which it had been lying for three days ; but 
 all in vain. The eyes were closed ; the form" 
 was rigid. The others, George and Will and 
 Bess, grew pale, and Bess cried, almost for 
 the first time since the strange week began. 
 Robert was the first to break the grief with a 
 quiet word. He raised his head, saying : 
 
 'T do not believe Clara is going to die 
 when I do." 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days, 201 
 
 ‘‘Why, father, what makes you think that?'' 
 cried Alice. 
 
 “I don’t know ; I can’t give any exact rea- 
 son. I only know that I don’t believe it will 
 happen." 
 
 “God grant that she may be spared to us !" 
 said Mrs. Hardy. “Oh, Robert, it is more 
 than I can bear ! Only to-day and to-morrow 
 left ! It can't be real. I have battled against 
 your dream all the week. It was a dream 
 only ; I will not believe it to be anything else. 
 You are not ill; there is no indication that 
 you are going to die. I will not, I cannot, 
 believe it! God is too' good. And we need 
 you now, Robert. Let us pray God for 
 mercy." 
 
 Robert shook his head sadly, but firmly. 
 
 “No, Mary ; I cannot resist an impression 
 so strong that I cannot call it anything but a 
 conviction of reality ; that somehow, in some 
 way, I shall* be called away from you Sunday 
 night. I have struggled against it, but it 
 grows upon me even more firmly. God is 
 
202 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 merciful. I do not question His goodness. 
 How much did I deserve even this week of 
 preparation after the life I have lived ? And 
 the time will not be long before we shall all 
 meet there. God grant that it may be an un- 
 broken company 
 
 Mr. Hardy spoke as any one in his condi- 
 tion could. The children drew about him 
 lovingly. Bess climbed into his lap ; she laid 
 her face against her father’s face, and the 
 strong man sobbed as he thought of all the 
 years of neglected affection in that family 
 circle, 'fhe 'rest of the evening was spent 
 in talking over the probable future. 
 
 George, who seemed thoroughly humbled 
 now, listened respectfully and even tearfully 
 to his father’s counsel concerning the direc- 
 tion of business and family matters. The 
 boy was going through a struggle with him- 
 self which was apparent to all in the house. 
 Ever since his mother had seen him kneel- 
 ing down in the night-watch, he had. shown 
 a different spirit. It remained to be seen 
 whether he had really changed, or whether 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 203 
 
 he had been, for the time being, frightened 
 into a little goodness. 
 
 Saturday morning found the Hardys weary 
 with the agitation of the week, but bearing 
 about a strange excitement which only the 
 prospect of the father’s approaching death or 
 removal could have produced. 
 
 Robert could not realize that his week 
 was almost at an end. Why, it seemed but 
 yesterday that he had dreamed after the Sun- 
 day evening service ! As on every other 
 day, he asked himself the question : ^ ‘What 
 shall I do Only until he had prayed could 
 he answer the question. Then the light 
 came. Who says prayer is merely a form? 
 It is going to God for wisdom and getting it. 
 It is crying out for light, and lo ! the darkness 
 flees. It is spreading out our troubles and 
 our joys and our perplexities and our needs, 
 and finding God Himself the best possible 
 answer to them all. Robert Hardy was find- 
 ing this out lately, and it was the one thing 
 that made possible to him the calmness of the 
 last two days allotted him. 
 
204 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 The day was spent in much the same way 
 that the other days had been spent. He 
 went down to his office about ten o'clock, 
 and after coming home to lunch, wenl down 
 again, with the intention of getting through 
 all the business and returning home . to spend 
 the rest of the time with the family. Along 
 toward three o’clock, when the routine work 
 of the shops was disposed of, the manager 
 felt an irresistible desire to speak to the men 
 in his employ. They numbered about eight 
 hundred in his department, and he knew how 
 impossible it would be for him to speak to 
 them individually. He thought a minute 
 and then called Burns in and gave an order 
 that made the foreman stare in the most un- 
 disguised wonder. 
 
 “Shut down the works for a little while and 
 ask the men to get together in the big ma- 
 chine shop. I want to speak to them.” 
 
 Burns had been astonished so often this 
 week that, although he opened his mouth to 
 say something, he did not seem able to pro- 
 nounce the word, and after staring blankly at 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 205 
 
 his employer a minute, he turned and went 
 out to execute the order. 
 
 The great engine was stopped. The men 
 from the casting-rooms and the carpenter- 
 shops and the store-rooms and the repairing 
 departments came trooping into the big ma- 
 chine shop and sat or leaned on the great 
 grim pieces of machinery, and as the shop 
 filled, the place began to take on a strange 
 aspect never seen there before. 
 
 Mr. Hardy crossed the yard from the of- 
 fice, followed by the clerks and assistant of- 
 ficers of the road, all curious to hear what 
 was coming. Mr. Hardy mounted one of the 
 planers and looked about him. The air was 
 still full of gas and smoke, and that mixture 
 of fine iron filings and oil which is character- 
 istic of such places. The men were quiet 
 and respectful enough. Many of them had 
 heard the manager’s speech of Thursday 
 night at the Town Hall. Most of them were 
 aware that some change had taken place in 
 the man. It had been whispered about that 
 he had arranged matters for the men injured 
 
2o6 Robert Ilardy^s Seven Rays. 
 
 in the Sunday accident so that they would 
 not come to want in any way. 
 
 And now that grimy, hard-muscled, hard- 
 featured crowd of eight hundred men all 
 turned their eyes all upon the figure standing 
 very erect and pale-faced on the great planer, 
 and he in turn looked out through the blue, 
 murky atmosphere at them with an intensity 
 of expression which none in that audience 
 understood. As Mr. Hardy went on with 
 his speech, they began to understand what 
 that look meant. 
 
 ''My brothers,’' began the manager with a 
 slight trembling of the syllables so new to 
 him, "as this may be the last time I shall ever 
 speak to you, I want to say what is true to 
 me and what I feel I owe to you. For 
 tw^enty-five years I have carried on the work 
 in this place without any thought • of the 
 eight hundred men at work in these shops, 
 except as their names were on the pay roll of 
 the company. It never made any difference 
 to me when your wives and children grev/ 
 sick and died. I never knew what sort of 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 207 
 
 houses you lived in, except to know that in 
 comparison with mine they must have been 
 very crowded and uncomfortable. For all 
 these twenty-five years I have been as in- 
 different to you as one man possibly could 
 be to men who work for him. It has not oc- 
 curred to me during this time that I could be 
 anything else. I have been too selfish to see 
 my relation to you and act upon it. 
 
 ‘'Now, I do not call you in here to-day to 
 apologize for twenty-five years’ of selfishness 
 — not that alone ; but* I do want you to know 
 that I have been touched bv the hand of 
 God in such a way that before it is too late I 
 want to say to you all, ‘brothers,’ and say to 
 you that when you think of me hereafter it 
 may be as I am now, to-day, not as I have 
 been in all the years past. 
 
 “It is not for me to say how far or in what 
 manner I have trampled on the brotherhood 
 of the race. I have called myself a Christian. 
 I have been a member of a church. Yet I 
 will confess here to-day that under the au- 
 thority granted me by the company I have 
 
2o8 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 more than once dismissed good, honest, faith- 
 ful workmen in large bodies, and cut down 
 wages unnecessarily to increase dividends, 
 and in general I have thought of the human 
 flesh and blood in these shops as I have 
 thought of the iron and steel here. I con- 
 fess all that and more. Whatever has been 
 unchristian I hope will be forgiven. 
 
 ‘^There are many things we do to our fel- 
 low men in this world which abide — the sting 
 of them, I mean. Theimpress of my selfish- 
 ness is stamped on this place. It will take 
 years to remove it. I might have been far 
 more to you. ,I might have raised my voice, 
 as a Christian and an influential director of 
 this road, against the Sunday work and traf- 
 fic ; I never did. I might have relieved un- 
 necessary discomfort in different depart- 
 ments ; I refused to do it. I might have 
 helped the cause of temperance in this town 
 by trying to banish the saloon ; instead of 
 that, I voted- to license a crime and poverty 
 and disease establishment. I might have 
 used my influence and my wealth to build 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days, 209 
 
 healthy, comfortable homes for the men who 
 work on this road ; I never raised my finger 
 in the matter. I might have helped to make 
 life a happier, sweeter thing to the nearly one 
 thousand souls in this establishment, and I 
 went my selfish way, content with my own 
 luxurious home and the ambition for self- 
 culture and the pride of self-accomplish- 
 ments. And yet there is not a man here to- 
 day who isn’t happier than I am. 
 
 wish you all, in the name of the good 
 God, who forgives our sins for Jesus’ sake, 
 the wish of a man who looks into the other 
 world and sees things as they really are. I 
 do not wish you to think of my life as a Chris- 
 tian life. It has not been such; but as you 
 hope to be forgiven at last, forgive all wrongs 
 at my hands. 
 
 “You are living in the dawn of a happier 
 day for labor. There are Christian men in 
 business in this town, and some few con- 
 nected with railroads, who are trying to ap- 
 ply the principles of Christianity to the busi- 
 ness and traffic of the world. My probable 
 
210 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 successor in these shops is such a man in 
 spirit. 
 
 ''God is love. I have forgotten that my- 
 self. I have walked through life forgetful of 
 Him. But I know to-day that He is drawing 
 the nations and the world together in true 
 sympathy. The nations that stand defiant 
 and disobedient to God shall perish. The 
 rulers who haughtily take God’s place and 
 oppress the people shall be destroyed. The 
 men of power and intelligence and money 
 who use these three great advantages merely 
 to bless themselves and add to their own 
 selfish pleasure and ease shall very soon be 
 dethroned. I would give all I possess to be 
 able to live and see a part of it come to pass. 
 Men, brothers, some of you younger ones 
 will live to see that day. 
 
 "Love God and obey Him. Envy not the 
 rich. They are more miserable than you 
 sometimes dream. True happiness consists 
 in a conscience at peace with God and a heart 
 free from selfish desires and habits. I thank 
 you for your attention. You will know bet- 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Rays. 211 
 
 ter why I have said all this to you when you 
 come in here to work again next Monday. 
 My brothers, God bless you. God bless us 
 all 
 
 When Robert stepped down from the 
 planer and started toward the door, more 
 than one black hand was thrust into his with 
 the words, ''God bless you, sir!’' He felt a 
 strange desire to weep. Never before had he 
 felt that thrill shoot through him at the grasp 
 of the hand of his brother man. His speech 
 had made a profound impression on the men. 
 Many of them did not understand the mean- 
 ing of certain sentences ; but the spirit of the 
 man was unmistakable, and the men re- 
 sponded in a manner that touched Mr. Hardy 
 very strongly. 
 
 He finally went into his office ; the big en- 
 gine started up again, and the whir and dust 
 and clangor of the shops went on. But men 
 bent over their work there, in the gathering 
 dusk of the winter day, who felt a new heart- 
 throb at the recollection of the pale face and 
 sincere word of the man who had broken a 
 
212 Robert Hard)ps Seven Days. 
 
 selfish silence of a quarter of a century to call 
 them brothers. Oh, Robert Hardy, what glo- 
 rious opportunities you missed to love aud 
 be loved! With all your wealth you have 
 been a very poor man all your life until now, 
 on the next to the last day -of it! 
 
 There is little need to describe the rest of 
 this day. Robert went home. Every one 
 greeted him tenderly. His first inquiry was 
 for Clara. Still in that trance-like sleep ; 
 would she never wake ? The wife shud- 
 dered with fear. Mrs. Hardy had spent much 
 of the time in prayer and tears. The even- 
 ing sped by without special incident. 
 
 James Caxton came and joined the family 
 circle. His presence reminded Mr. Hardy of 
 the old quarrel with the young man's father. 
 He spoke to James and said if anything 
 should prevent him seeing his father the next 
 day, James might tell his father how com- 
 pletely and sincerely he wished the foolish 
 quarrel forgotten and his own share in it for- 
 given. 
 
 So that day came to a close in family con- 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 213 
 
 ference, in tears, in fear and hope and anxiety 
 and prayer. But Mrs»JIardy would not lose 
 all hope. It did not seem to her possible 
 that her husband could be called away the 
 next night. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Alice, with the quickness of thought that 
 always characterized her, planned that all the 
 rest should go to church, while she remained 
 with Clara. Will was able to go out now. 
 So, for the first time in months, Robert and 
 his wife and Bess and the two boys sat to- 
 gether in the same seat. George had not 
 been to church for a year, and Will was very 
 irregular in his attendance. 
 
 The opening services seemed especially 
 impressive and beautiful to Mr. Hardy. He 
 wondered how he had ever dared sit and 
 criticise Mr. Jones and the way he had of 
 reading the hymns. To be sure, he was not 
 a perfect speaker ; but his love for his people 
 and his great love for men, and his rare good 
 life every day were so well known that they 
 ought to have counted for more than they 
 ever did. It is astonishing how many good 
 
Robert Hardy s Seven Days. 215 
 
 deeds and good men pass through this world 
 unnoticed and unappreciated; but every evil 
 deed is caught up and magnified and criti- 
 cised by press and people, until it seems as if 
 the world must be a very wicked place in- 
 deed, and the good people very scarce in- 
 deed. 
 
 Mr. Hardy joined in the service with a joy 
 unknown to him for years. He had come to 
 it from the reading of his Bible, instead of 
 the reading of the morning paper, and from 
 prayer, instead of from thoughts of his busi' 
 ness or a yawning stroll through his library. 
 His mind was receptive of the best things in 
 the service. He entered into it with the 
 solemn feeling that it was his last. 
 
 And when the minister gave out the text, 
 ''For we must all appear before the judgment 
 seat of Christ; that every man may receive 
 the things done in his body, whether they be 
 good or bad,'' he started, and leaned forward 
 intently, feeling that the message of the 
 preacher was for him and him alone, and 
 strangely appropriate for his own peculiar 
 
2i6 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 condition. The first statement of the ser- 
 mon arrested his attention and held him to 
 the argument irresistibly to the end. 
 
 “The judgment seat of Christ will not be a 
 dreadful place to a man whose sins have 
 been forgiven in this world ; but if he comes 
 up to it seamed and scarred and stained with 
 sins unrepented of and unforgiven because he 
 has not asked God to forgive him, it will be a 
 place of awful fear to his soul. There are 
 men here in this audience who are as ready to 
 die now as they ever will be ; they have made 
 their peace with God ; they have no quarrel 
 with their neighbors; their accounts are all 
 square in business ; they are living in loving 
 relations with the home circle ; they have no 
 great burdens of remorse or regret weighing 
 them down ; and if God should call them this 
 minute to step up to the judgment seat, they 
 would be ready. 
 
 “But there are other men here who are not 
 at all ready for such a tremendous event. 
 They may think they are, but they are mis- 
 taken. How can they stand before the 
 
Robert Hardys Seven Days. 217 
 
 greatest Being in all the universe and have 
 no fear, \vhen they are unprepared to answer 
 His questions 'Why did you not confess me 
 before men? Why did you not do as I 
 commanded and bear the burdens of the 
 weak, instead of pleasing yourself?' What 
 will the man say then? 
 
 "It is true that Christ is all-merciful, all- 
 loving. But will it make no difference with 
 a soul whether it comes up to His judgment 
 seat out of a life of selfish ease and indul- 
 gence, or out of a life of self-sacrifice and re- 
 straint ? When every possible offer of mercy 
 is held out to men on earth and tliey will not 
 accept it, will it be all the s?nie as if they had 
 when they come before the judgment seat of 
 Christ? Why that would be to mock at the 
 meaning of the incarnation and the atone- 
 ment. It would be to cast scorn and con- 
 tempt on the agony in the garden and the 
 crucifixion. It would make unnecessary all 
 the prayer and preaching. What possible 
 need is there that men preach a gospel of sal- 
 vation unless there is danger of the opposite ? 
 
2 i 8 Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days, 
 
 If we are all going to be saved anyway, no 
 matter whether we accept God’s love in 
 Christ or not, what use is the Church ? And 
 why should we be anxious any more about 
 our children? And what difference does it 
 make whether they go to the bad here in this 
 world, if in the world to come they will all be 
 saved ? For eternity v/ill be so much grander 
 and sweeter and enduring than time that we 
 might as well take it easy here and not pay 
 much attention to the message, ‘God so loved 
 the world’ — that is, if we are going to be 
 saved anyway, 
 
 “Why should we care very much if it does 
 say in the revelation of God’s Word that the 
 wicked shall go away into everlasting punish- 
 ment, if we don’t believe it? Why, the 
 wicked will stand just as good a chance of 
 eternal glory as the good, if the judgment 
 seat of Christ does not mean a separation of 
 the good from the bad. Let us close our 
 churches and go home. Let us eat and drink 
 and dance and be merry, for to-morrow we 
 die; and after death the judgment, and after 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days, 219 
 
 the judgment glofy and joy and power and 
 peace and life eternal in the presence of God. 
 It is true we scorned Him on earth, but that 
 won't make any difference; He will receive 
 us just the same. It is true we refused to be- 
 lieve in His only begotton Son after all He 
 suffered of shame and agony for us ; but that 
 makes no difference : He will say : ^Enter into 
 the joy of thy Lord.' It is true we made fun 
 of Christians, and mocked at prayer and 
 sneered at faith; but that is not much to be 
 afraid of. It is true we hated our neighbor 
 and would not forgive an insult ; but that is a 
 little thing. It is true when the Holy Spirit 
 pleaded with us a year or six months ago to 
 confess Christ in public we told Him to leave 
 us ; we were ashamed to do it in the presence 
 of men, to confess Him who spread out His 
 arms on a cross of bitterest agony for us ; but 
 for all that we feel sure that when we march 
 up to the judgment seat of Christ He will 
 treat us just the same as He treats the dis- 
 ciples who have laid down their lives for the 
 Master. 
 
3.20 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Then let us tesr out of the Bible every 
 line that speaks of retribution or punishment 
 or judgment— for we don’t like -Aose pas- 
 sages; they hurt our feelings — and let us 
 leave only those words that speak of love and 
 mercy and forgiveness; for those words are 
 the only ones that can be true; for those 
 words don’t make us feel uncomfortable. 
 
 “Away with everything that hurts our feel- 
 ings, that makes us anxious, that sends us to 
 our knees in prayer, that makes us confess 
 Christ and live a life of self-denial and ser- 
 vice ! for when ihe judgment seat is prepared, 
 and Christ sits down there and we appear be- 
 fore Him, He will receive us just as we come 
 before Him — the pure and the impure; the 
 selfish and the proud; and the humble and' 
 the believer and the disbeliever ; and infidels 
 and scofif'ers and cowards and deapisers of 
 God’s love on the earth ; all the class of men 
 who fell back on weak and imperfect Chris- 
 tians as an excuse for their own weak lives ; 
 and the drunkards and the liars and the op- 
 pressors of the poor ; and everybody who 
 
\r T tv 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 221 
 
 heard a thousand sermons full of gospel and 
 despised them because of some imperfection 
 in the delivery or elocution; and all those 
 men who went through the earth betrayers 
 of the home ; and the selfish politicians, who 
 betrayed their country ; and all the men who 
 read the Bible and believed only the parts that 
 didn't hurt their sensitive feelings ; and the 
 young men who lived fast lives and sowed 
 wild oats because a wicked and false public 
 sentiment made them think it was excusable 
 and, perhaps, necessary ; and every other 
 man and woman who’ lived as he pleased, re- 
 gardless of God and eternity ; when all these 
 shall appear before the judgment seat of 
 Christ He will behold them all as one soul, 
 and with a smile of gracious pardon will 
 reach out His Almighty arm and sweep them 
 all alike into a heaven of eternal bliss, there 
 to reign with Him in glory and power, world 
 without end ! 
 
 ‘‘But is this what Christ taught the world? 
 Suppose what we have said is- true; it turns 
 His whole life into a splendid mockery. 
 
222 Robert Hardys Seven Days. 
 
 Foolishness and absurdity could go ‘no fur- 
 ther than to create a life like His and to put 
 into His mouth such teachings as we have re- 
 ceived, if at the judgment seat all souls, re- 
 gardless of their acts in this world, are re- 
 ceived on an equal footing and all received 
 into eternal life. And where is there any 
 room in the teachings of Christ for a pur- 
 gatory? Do we believe that? Is it not the 
 plain teaching that after the judgment the 
 destiny of souls is fixed forever ? 
 
 ''But what could man wish more? Will 
 he not have opportunity enough to accept 
 the mercy of God before that time? Does 
 He not have opportunity? If any soul ap- 
 pears at last and at the judgment com- 
 plains that he did not have a fair 
 chance, will that gracious Judge con- 
 demn him if his complaint be true ? 
 We know He will not. But the facts of the 
 judgment are these : At that time, whenever 
 it is, the souls of men will be passed for their 
 acts in the earthly life a verdict that will de- 
 termine their everlasting destiny ; and that 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 223 
 
 verdict will be just and it will be merciful. 
 For the crucified One could not do otherwise. 
 But the men who have despised and neglect- 
 ed and disbelieved and confessed shall be 
 separated from Him forever; and the men 
 who have confessed and belie ^ed and tried to 
 live like Him shall be in His presence con- 
 tinually. There will be a division of souls. 
 It will not be based on wealth or position or 
 birth or education or genius, but on Christ- 
 dikeness — on that divine and eternal thing we 
 call character. Everything else shall go 
 away into destruction, into death, into pun- 
 ishment, into banishment from God. And 
 banishment from God will be hell — and it will 
 be a hell not made by God, but by man him- 
 self, who had an opportunity, nay, a thou- 
 sand opportunities every day of his life, to 
 accept the bliss of heaven and of his own 
 selfish choice rejected every one of them and 
 went to his own place. 
 
 ‘^But some soul starts up and says, ‘You 
 are not preaching the gospel ; you are preach - 
 ing fear, hell, torments. Is this your boasted 
 
224 Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 
 
 love of God?' Yes; for what am I preach- 
 ing, if not the love of God, when I say, ‘God 
 so loved the world, that He gave His only 
 begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
 Him should not perish^ but have everlasting 
 life?' Is there no danger of perishing? 
 Why did Christ come then? Why did He 
 say the things He did? Why did He speak 
 of the condemnation of the wicked and un- 
 believing if that were not a part of the gos- 
 pel? The gospel is glad tidings; but' what 
 makes it glad tidings? Because of the dan- 
 ger we are in. What is salvation ? It is the 
 opposite of being lost. We cannot have one 
 without the other. So I am preaching the 
 gospel here to-day when I say, ‘We must all 
 appear before the judgment seat of Christ!' 
 There will be no fear to us then if we believe 
 in Him, if we have lived His life here, if the 
 things done in the body are good. And more 
 than that : as long as this earth life continues, 
 God's mercy is with us every moment. 
 
 “It is possible som.e soul is here who for 
 years has lived selfishly within his own little 
 
Robert Hardy^s Seven Days. 225 
 
 toys of pleasure. He looks back on a life of 
 uselessness, of neglect of all that Christ did 
 for him. He this day hears the voice of God. 
 He listens ; he repents ; he cries out, smiting 
 on his breast, 'God be merciful to me a sin- 
 ner!’ Then what will God do? Will he re- 
 ject him because he is old in sin? because he 
 has wasted beautiful years? When he ap- 
 pears before the judgment seat will Christ 
 say, ‘You repented too late on earth. You 
 cannot be saved now?’ No! even if after a 
 hundred years of shame and sin a soul with 
 its outgoing breath, in genuine repentance 
 and faith in the Son of God, cries out for 
 mercy, that cry would be answered and he 
 would be saved. What less of glory and 
 power such a soul may experience in the 
 realms of glory, we may not be able to tell. 
 But he himself will be saved. 
 
 “Is not God merciful, then? Let no man 
 depart from this house of God fearful or des- 
 pairing. The earthly life is full from begin- 
 ning to close with the love of an Almighty 
 Father. Shall men complain because they 
 
226 Robert Hardfs Seven Days. 
 
 cannot have all of this life and all of the 
 other, too, in which to repent and be for^ 
 given? "Now is the accepted time; now is 
 the day of salvation.' "To-day if ye will hear 
 His voice, harden not your hearts/ 
 
 ‘"Men of Barton, you have heard the word 
 of God proclaimed from this desk to-day. 
 Young men, will you wait until you are old 
 in sin and shame before you will repent and 
 be saved? How do you know you will live 
 to be old men ? And what a life to live, even 
 if you were sure of a hundred years, to pour 
 put the dregs at last as an offering to Christ 
 just to escape hell! Oh, all men, hear ye 
 this day the message of Christ! He is a 
 Saviour of sinners. It is not necessary that 
 any man go away from this service unsaved. 
 You may believe here and now. Won't you 
 do it? "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and thou shalt be saved.' Then go home and 
 pray, rejoicing. And if the Almighty call 
 you out and away from this prison of clay 
 into His resplendent presence this very 
 night, what will you have to fear? Not one 
 
Robert Hard)Ps Seven Days. 227 
 
 thing. You have put your trust in Him. 
 Your sins are all forgiven. You can appear 
 before His judgment seat and await your 
 verdict with a calm and joyful soul. For 
 you know as you gaze into the loving coun- 
 tenance of your Redeemer and Judge that 
 when He turns and speaks to you He will 
 say, ‘Come, ye beloved of my Father, inherit 
 the kingdom prepared for you from the foun- 
 dation of the world.' Truly God is love !’' 
 
 The prayer that followed the sermon 
 seemed to bring all the souls in the church 
 very close to God. The events of the past 
 week had stirred the town deeply. The aw- 
 ful disaster so near them ; the speech of Mr. 
 Hardy in the Town Hall ; rumors of the ex- 
 perience he was having — all these had pre- 
 pared the audience for just such a sermon on 
 Sunday morning. And men bowed their 
 heads and prayed in that house who had not 
 done such a thing sincerely in many years. 
 
 Robert had many inquiries concerning 
 himself and Clara to answer at the close of 
 the service. He finally went up and thanked 
 
228 Robert HardyPs Seven Days. 
 
 the minister for what he had said, and spoke 
 as he never had spoken before in encourage- 
 ment of his pastor’s work. But it seemed 
 to him that he rnust be getting home. The 
 time was growing short; he must have the 
 rest of it with the dear ones in the home. 
 
 What need to describe the details of the 
 afternoon? Robert Hardy had the joy of 
 knowing that all his children were with him, 
 and at dark James came over and asked if he 
 might join the circle. He did not know al! 
 that Mr. Hardy had gone through, but the 
 children had told him enough to make him 
 want to be with the family. 
 
 '"Why, come right in and join the circle, 
 Jim! You’re one of us,” cried Mr. Hardy, 
 cheerfully. So Jim drew up his chair and 
 the conversation went on. They were sit- 
 ting in the upstairs room where Clara lay and 
 facing an open fire. The doctor had called 
 in the middle of the afternoon and brought 
 two other skilled surgeons. and physicians at 
 Mr. Hardy’s request. It was a singular case 
 and nothing special could be done. This 
 
Robert Ha 7 'd}Ps Seven Days. 229 
 
 was the unanimous opinion after deep con- 
 sultation, and after remaining some time the 
 doctors had withdrawn. 
 
 When it grew dark, Alice started to turn 
 on the lights, but her father said, ‘‘Let us sit 
 in the firelight.'' So they drew close to- 
 gether, and in awe looked upon him who 
 seemed so sure that God would call him away 
 at midnight. Who shall recount the words 
 that were uttered ? the exact sentences 
 spoken? the fears and hopes and petitions 
 and tears of the wife? the commands of the 
 father to his boys to grow up into the perfect 
 manhood in Jesus Christ? the sweet words of 
 love and courage that passed between him 
 and his wife and daughters? These things 
 cannot be described ; they can only be im- 
 agined. 
 
 So the night passed. It was after eleven 
 o’clock; when the conversation had almost 
 ceased and all were sitting hushed in a grow- 
 ing silence, that Clara spoke again, so sud- 
 denly and clearly that they were all startled 
 and awed by it: 
 
230 Robert lIard)Ps Seven Days. 
 
 ^'Father! mother! where have I been? I 
 have had such a dream! Where are you? 
 Where am I?” 
 
 Mrs. Hardy arose, and with tears stream- 
 ing down her face, kneeled beside the bed 
 and in a few words recalled Clara to her sur- 
 roundings. The girl had come out of her 
 strange unconsciousness with all her facul- 
 ties intact. Gradually she recalled the past, 
 the accident, the dream of her father. She 
 smiled happily on them all, and they for a 
 while forgot the approach of midnight and 
 its possible meaning to Mr. Hardy — all but 
 himself. He kneeled by the bed, at the side 
 of his wife, and thanked God that his dear 
 one was restored. Suddenly he rose to his 
 feet and spoke aloud, quietly, but clearly: 
 *'Did you not hear some one calling?” His 
 face was pale, but peaceful. He bent down 
 and kissed Clara, embraced his sons, drew 
 his wife to him, and placed his hand on Bes- 
 sie’s head; then, as if in answer to a com- 
 mand, he gently kneeled down again by his 
 chair and as his lips moved in prayer the 
 
Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 231 
 
 clock struck once more the hour of twelve. 
 He continued kneeling there, and he was 
 nearer God than he had ever been in all his 
 life before. 
 
 Thus Robert Hardy's Seven Days came to 
 an end. 
 
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ADAMS, 0. Lo 
 
 Detective’s Clew, The. Magnet No. 66. loc. 
 
 ALLEN, GRANT 
 
 In All Shades. Arrow No. 22. loc. 
 
 AUGUSTA, CLARA 
 
 Nobody’s Daughter Eagle No, i27o loc, 
 
 RARRETT, FRANK 
 
 Great Hesper, The. Arrow No. 31. loc. 
 
 BARRIE, J. M, 
 
 Little Minister, The. Eagle No. 96, loc. 
 
 Also a better edition. (Illustrated), Drama No, 34. 25c, 
 Also in cloth. (Six illustrations), 50c.> 
 
 BELOT, ADOLPHE 
 
 Tragedy of the Rue de la Paix, The. Arrow No. 32. loc. 
 BOURGET, PAUL 
 
 Living Lie, A. Arrow No. 8. loc.. 
 
 BULLEN, FRANK To 
 Cruise of the Cachalot 
 
 BURGESS, NEIL 
 
 County Fair, The, 
 
 Arrow No, 76. loc. 
 Eagle No, 60. loc. 
 
 CAFFYN, MANNINGTON, anthor of ^^A Yellow Astero’^ 
 
 Miss Milne and I. 
 
 CAINE, HALL 
 
 Bondman, The. 
 
 She’s All the World to Me. 
 
 Arrow No, 44. loc. 
 
 Arrow No. 73. 
 Arrow No. 2. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 Worth Winning, 
 
 CAMERON, MRSo EMILY LOVETT 
 
 CARTER, NICHOLAS 
 
 Arrow No. 52, loc. 
 
 Accidental Password, An. Magnet No. 53. 
 
 American Marquis, The. 7, 
 
 Among the Counterfeiters, 39. 
 
 Among the Nihilists. 43. 
 
 At Odds with Scotland Yard. 49. 
 
 At Thompson’s Ranch. 56. 
 
 Australian Klondike, A, • 8. 
 
 Caught in the Toils. 14- 
 
 Chance Discovery, ,A. 19- 
 
 Check No. 777. 'I 46. 
 
 Clever Celestial, A ** 75» 
 
 Crescent Brotherhood, The. 83. 
 
 Crime of a Countess, The. 5- 
 
 Dead Man’s Grip, A. 85. 
 
 Deposit Vault Puzzle, A. ^ “ 21. 
 
 Detective’s Pretty Neighbor and Other Stories ‘‘ 89. 
 
 Diamond Mine Case, The. 71- 
 
 Double Shuffle Club, The. 68. 
 
 Evidence by Telephone. ** 23. 
 
 Fair Criminal, A. ** 
 
 Fighting Against Millions. H- 
 
 Found on the Beach. ‘‘ 65. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 (G2b 
 
CAIITER, NICHOLAS.-Contimieit. 
 
 Gambler’s Syndicate, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 18 
 
 Gideon Drexel’s Millions 
 
 ‘‘ 99 » 
 
 Great Enigma, The. 
 
 ‘‘ 2. 
 
 Great Money Order Swindle, The. 
 
 “ 9 i‘ 
 
 Harrison Keith, Detective 
 
 “ 93 * 
 
 Klondike Claim, A. 
 
 “ I. 
 
 Man from India, The. 
 
 50- 
 
 Millionaire Partner, A. 
 
 “ 59 - 
 
 Mysterious Mail Robbery, The. 
 
 “ 13. 
 
 Nick Carter and the Green Goods Man. 
 
 ‘‘ 87. 
 
 Old Detective’s Pupil, The. 
 
 10. 
 
 Piano Box Mystery, The. 
 
 " 17. 
 
 Playing a Bold Game. 
 
 12. 
 
 Puzzle of Five Pistols, The, and Other Stories. “ 97. 
 
 Sealed Orders 
 
 95 * 
 
 Sign of the Crossed Knives, The. 
 
 ‘‘ 79 * 
 
 Stolen Identity, A. 
 
 9. 
 
 Titled Counterfeiter, A. 
 
 “ 3. 
 
 Tracked Across the Atlantic. 
 
 4 * 
 
 Two Plus Two. 
 
 “ 73 - 
 
 Van Alstine Case, The. 
 
 “ 77 - 
 
 Wall Street Haul, A. 
 
 6. 
 
 Wanted by Two Clients. 
 
 “ 81. 
 
 Woman’s Hand, A. 
 
 “ 16. 
 
 CLAY, BERTHA M. 
 
 Another Man’s Wife. 
 
 Eagle No. 48. 
 
 Another Woman’s Husband. 
 
 Eagle No, 42. 
 
 Between Two Hearts. 
 
 Eagle No. 84. 
 
 Fair but Faithless. 
 
 Eagle No. 102, 
 
 For a Woman’s Honor. 
 
 Eagle No. 4. 
 
 Gipsy’s Daughter, The. 
 
 Eagle No, ii. 
 
 Gladys Greye. 
 
 Eagle No. 59. 
 
 Heart’s Bitterness, A. 
 
 Eagle No. log. 
 
 Heart’s Idol, A. 
 
 Eagle No. 21. 
 
 Ideal Love, An, 
 
 Eagle No. 119 
 
 In Love’s Crucible. 
 
 Eagle No, 70. 
 
 Marjorie Deane. 
 
 ’Twixt Love and Hate. 
 
 Eagle No. 79. 
 
 Eagle No. 95. 
 
 Violet Lisle, 
 
 Eagle ^No. 14. 
 
 CLEMENS, WILL M. 
 
 Life of Admiral Dewey, The. 
 
 COBB, C. W. 
 
 Historical No. 7. 
 
 The Mountaineer Detective. 
 
 Magnet No. 40. 
 
 COBB, SYLYANUS,. 
 
 Jr. 
 
 Ben Hamed. Columbia No. i8. 
 
 Golden Ko^le, The. ‘‘ 19. 
 
 King’s Talisman, The “ 21. 
 
 Yankee Champion, The. Eagle No. 78. 
 
 COLLINS, WILKIE 
 
 My Lady’s Moneyo Arrow Noc 58 
 
 (0 3 ) 
 
 loa 
 
 ti 
 
 it 
 
 I0C„ 
 
 IOC. 
 
 a 
 
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 a 
 
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 IOC, 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 loc: 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 lOC- 
 
 lOC 
 
 IOC. 
 
 lOCo 
 
 loe, 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
I2I. 
 
 86 . 
 
 26. 
 
 27. 
 
 i8. 
 
 55 - 
 
 36. 
 
 47. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 59 ‘ 
 
 67. 
 
 16. 
 
 COMFORT, LUCY RANDALL 
 
 Cecile's Marriage. Eagle No. 
 
 Widowed Bride, The. Eagle No. 
 
 CORELLI, MARIE 
 
 Ardath, Vol. I. Arrow No. 
 
 Ardath. Yol. II. 
 
 Romance of Two Worlds, A. 
 
 Thelma. 
 
 Vendetta. “ 
 
 Wormwood. “ 
 
 DARRELL CHARLES 
 When London Sleeps. Eagle No. 105. loc 
 
 DAUDET, ALPHONSE 
 
 Jack. Arrow No. 
 
 Partners, The. Arrow No. 
 
 Sappho. Arrow No. 
 
 DE GONCOURT, E. AND J. 
 
 Germinie Eacerteux. Arrow No. 4. 
 
 DELPIT, ALBERT 
 
 Coralie’s Son. Arrow No. 35. 
 
 DENISON, MRS. MARY A. 
 
 Daughter of the Regiment, The. Eagle No. 116. 
 
 DE PONT JEST, RENE. 
 
 No. 13 Rue Marlot Magnet No, 96. 
 
 DE TINSEAU, LEON 
 
 His Fatal Vow or Sealed Lips. Arrow No. 23. 
 
 DEY, MARMADUKE 
 
 Muertalma; or, the Poisoned Pin. Magnet No. 58. 
 
 DONNELLY, H. GRATTAN 
 
 Darkest Russia. Eagle No. 94. 
 
 DOUGLAS, A. M. 
 
 Midnight Marriage, The. Eagle No. 6. 
 
 DOYLE, A. CONAN 
 
 Beyond the City. Arrow No. 6. 
 
 Firm of Girdlestone, The. ^ Arrow No. 69. 
 
 Sherlock Holmes’ Detective Stories, The. Magnet No. 72. 
 
 Sign of the Four, The. Arrow No. 17. 
 
 Study in Scarlet, A. Arrow No. 3. 
 
 DU BOISGOBEY, FORTUNE 
 Blue Veil, The. Magnet No. 44. 
 
 Chevalier Casse Cou, The. 63. 
 
 Convict Colonel, The. 33- 
 
 Crime of the Opera House, The. Vol. I. 35. 
 
 Crime of the Opera House, The. Vol. II. 3§- 
 
 His Great Revenge. Vol. I. Magnet No. 54. 
 
 His Great Revenge. Vol. II. • 55- 
 
 Matapan Aflair, The. 38. 
 
 Red Camellia, The. '' 64. 
 
 Red Lottery Ticket, The, 31- 
 
 Steel Necklace, The. ** 27. 
 
 (G4) 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 lOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 loe. 
 
DUCHESS, THE 
 
 Duchess, The. Arrow No. 34. 
 
 Honourable Mrs. Vereker, The. Arrow No, 62. 
 
 Mildred Trevanion. Arrow No. 40. 
 
 DUDLEY, BICKNELL 
 
 Gentleman from Gascony, A. Eagle No. 89. 
 
 DUFFY, EICHAKD 
 
 Saved from the Sea. Eagle No. 118. 
 
 DUMAS, ALEXANDRE 
 
 Three Musketeers, The. Arrow No. 77. 
 
 EBERS, OEORGE. 
 
 Egyptian Princess, An. Arrow No. 74. 
 
 EDWARDS, JULIA 
 
 Beautiful but Poor. Eagle No. 8. 
 
 Estelle’s Millionaire Lover. Eagle No. 27. 
 
 He Loves Me, Loves Me Not. Eagle No. 3. 
 
 Little Widow, The. Eagle No. 13. 
 
 Prettiest of All. Eagle No. 124. 
 
 Stella Sterling. Eagle No. 62. 
 
 EDWARDS, WARREN 
 
 Colonel’s Wife, The. Eagle No. 39. 
 
 Dispatch Bearer, The. Eagle No. 56. 
 
 War Reporter, The. Eagle No. 97. 
 
 ELLIS, EDWARD S. 
 
 From Tent to White House Medal No. ii. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 lOf', 
 
 IOC. 
 
 ioc» 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 loc’ 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 FENN, GEORGE MANYILLE 
 
 Bag of Diamonds, The. Magnet No. 30. loc. 
 
 FEUILLET, OCTAYE 
 
 Romance of a Poor Young Man, The. Arrow No. 46. loc. 
 FITCH, ENSIGN CLARKE, U- S, N. 
 
 Court Martialled. 
 
 Columbia No. 
 
 6. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Fighting Squadron, The. 
 
 (( 
 
 2. 
 
 
 Gauntlet of Fire, A. 
 
 ii 
 
 10. 
 
 (i 
 
 Holding tne Fort. 
 
 i( 
 
 II. 
 
 it 
 
 Prisoner of Morro, A. 
 
 ii 
 
 4. 
 
 
 Saved by the Enemy. 
 
 H 
 
 8. 
 
 
 Soldier Monk, The. 
 
 tt 
 
 17* 
 
 it 
 
 Soldier’s Pledge, A, 
 
 it 
 
 12. 
 
 &i 
 
 Wolves of the Navy. 
 
 it 
 
 13 - 
 
 it 
 
 FLEMING, MAY AGNES 
 
 
 
 Virginia Heiress, The. 
 
 Eagle No. 
 
 9. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 FRANCILLON, 
 
 R. E. 
 
 
 
 King or Knave. 
 
 Arrow No. 
 
 7. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 GABORIAU, EMILE 
 
 
 
 Caught in the Net (Slaves of Paris, Vol. I.) 
 
 
 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 20. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Champdoce Mystery, The (Slaves of Paris, Vol. II.). 
 
 
 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 22. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Clique of Gold, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 29. 
 
 IOC. 
 
Magnet No. 
 
 24. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Vol. ID. . 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 25. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 
 26. 
 
 
 ^ * 
 
 15. 
 
 n 
 
 ^S 
 
 Eagle No. 
 
 98. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 22. 
 
 “ 
 
 
 41. 
 
 ii 
 
 
 50. 
 
 i t 
 
 a 
 
 17. 
 
 
 ** 
 
 85. 
 
 
 
 73. 
 
 u 
 
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 117. 
 
 (( 
 
 
 24. 
 
 (( 
 
 Arrow No. 68. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 GABORIAU^ EMILE. Continued. 
 
 Detective’s Dilemma, The (Mons. Lecoq, Vol. L). 
 
 File No. 113. 
 
 Widow Lerouge, The. 
 
 BARVICE3 CHAllLl 
 
 Claire. 
 
 Elaine. 
 
 Her Heart’s Desire. 
 
 Her Ransom. 
 
 Leslie’s Loyalty. 
 
 Lorrie; or. Hollow Gold. 
 
 Marquis, The. 
 
 She Loved Him. 
 
 Wasted Love, A. 
 
 GILBERT, W. S. 
 
 Bab Ballads, The. 
 
 GOODE, GEORGE W. 
 
 Post Office Detective, The. Magnet No. 52. 
 
 GRAYDOX, WILLIAM MURRAY. 
 
 From Lake to Wilderness* Medal No. 22. 
 
 White King of Africa, The. “ 16. 
 
 HAGGARD, H. RIDER 
 
 Allan Quatermain. Arrow No. 33. 
 
 Eric Brighteyes. 51. 
 
 HALL, A. D. 
 
 Cattle King, The. 
 
 Cuba: Its Past, Present and Future. 
 
 Devil’s Island (The Story of Dreyfus) 
 
 Fatal Card, The. 
 
 Hawaii. 
 
 Mavourneen. 
 
 Northern Lights. 
 
 Philippines. The. 
 
 Pope Leo XIII., A Life oL 
 Porto Rico. 
 
 Uncle Sam’s Ships, (A History of our Navy) 
 
 Victoria, Queen and Empress 
 
 HANSHEW, T. W* 
 
 Queen of Treachery, A. Eagle No. 93. 
 
 HARBAUGH, T. C. 
 
 White Squadron, The. Eagle No. 120, 
 
 HARBEN, WILL N. 
 
 North Walk Mystery, The. Magnet No. 88. 
 
 HATTON, JOSEPH 
 
 John Needham’s Double. Magnet No. 41. 
 
 Eagle No. 112. 
 Hi^to/ical No, i. 
 Eagle No. 125. 
 Ea^le No. 16. 
 Historical No. 4. 
 Eagle No. 76. 
 Eagle No. 123. 
 Historical No. 2. 
 
 O’ 
 
 Historical No. 3. 
 
 9 * 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
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 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 (G 6) 
 
HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL 
 
 House of Seven Gables. 
 
 Arrow No. 54. 
 
 TOC. 
 
 HENTY G. A. 
 
 
 
 Dragon and the Raven, The. 
 
 Medal No. 23. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Jack Archer 
 
 “ 19- 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Young Colonists, The. 
 
 “ 14 - 
 
 IOC. 
 
 HILL, K. F, 
 
 
 
 Mysterious Case, A. 
 
 Magnet No. 32. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Mystery of a Madstone, The. 
 
 Magnet. No. 67 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Twin Detectives, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 74. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 HOLMKS, MES. MAEI J. 
 
 
 English Orphans. 
 
 Arrow No. 57. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Homestead on the Hillside. 
 
 “ 60. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 ’Lena Rivers. 
 
 56. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Meadowbrook. 
 
 “ 79 - 
 
 IOC, 
 
 Tempest and Sunshine. 
 
 “ 53 - 
 
 IOC. 
 
 HOLZMEYER, GENIE (Mrs. Sydney Rosenfeld) 
 
 
 Proud Dishonor, A. 
 
 Eagle No. 104. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 ’ HOPE, ANTHONY 
 
 
 
 Frivolous Cupid and Other Stories 
 
 Arrow No. 64. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 HUGO, VICTOR 
 
 
 
 Han of Iceland. 
 
 Arrow No. 19. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Ruy Bias. 
 
 Arrow No. 37. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Toilers of the Sea, The. 
 
 Arrow No. 30. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 HUME, FERGUS 
 
 
 
 Mystery of a Hansom Cab, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 47. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 INGRAHAM, REV. PROF 
 
 . J. H. 
 
 
 Prince of the House of David,, The. 
 
 Arrow No. 43. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 JAMES, POLICE CAPTAIN 
 
 
 Little Lightning, 
 
 Magnet No. 70. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Revenue Detective, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 42. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 JAMES, T. P. 
 
 
 
 Under Fire, 
 
 Eagle No. 75. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 JONES, EMMA GARKISON 
 
 
 Wedded for an Hour. 
 
 Eagle No. 81. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 KIPLING, EUDYARD 
 
 
 Ballads and Other Verses. 
 
 Arrow No. 49. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Light That Failed, The. 
 
 Arrow No. i. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Phantom Rickshaw, The. 
 
 Arrow No. 12. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Plain Tales from the Hills 
 
 Arrow No. 63. 
 
 lOC^ 
 
 Soldiers Three and Black and White 
 
 el 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Under the Deodors and Story of the Gadsbys “ 70. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 LEON, LEWIS 
 
 Silver Ship, The. 
 
 Whose Wife Is She? 
 
 (G 7 ) 
 
 LISLE, ANNIE 
 
 Medal No. i8. loc. 
 Eagle No. no. loc. 
 
i 
 
 LOUNSBERRY, LIEUT. LIONEL 
 
 Cadet Kit Carey. 
 
 Medal No. 
 
 2. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Captain Carey of the Gallant Seventh. 
 
 Medal No. 
 
 6 . 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Ensign Merrill 
 
 ii 
 
 17 * 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Kit Carey’s Protege 
 
 a 
 
 8. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Lieutenant Carey’s Luck, 
 
 Medal No. 
 
 4. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Midshipman Merrill 
 
 
 15 - 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Won at West Point 
 
 u 
 
 SI. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 LYALL, EDNA 
 
 
 
 
 Donovan. 
 
 Arrow No. 
 
 50. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Hardy, Norsman A. 
 
 ii 
 
 66. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 Ill the Golden Days 
 
 u 
 
 71* 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Won by Waiting. 
 
 Arrow No. 
 
 45. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 McKENZlE. DONALD J. 
 
 
 
 Under His Thumb.* 
 
 Mannet No. 
 
 28. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Face to Face. 
 
 Magnet No. 76. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MAITLAND, 0 . 
 
 
 
 
 Society Detective, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 34. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MANLEY, MARLINE 
 
 
 
 Old Specie. 
 
 Magnet Nb. 
 
 45. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Poker King, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 80. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Vestibule Limited Mystery, The. 
 
 Magnet No. 
 
 57. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MATTHEW, CHARLES 
 
 Inspector’s Puzzle, The. Magnet No. 84. loc. 
 
 MERRICK, DR. MARK 
 
 Great Travers Case, The. Magnet No. 48. loc. 
 
 MERRIMAN, HENRY SETON. 
 
 Phantom Future, The 
 
 Arrow No. 78. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MIDDLEMAS, JEAN 
 
 
 Maddoxes, The. 
 
 Arrow No. 38. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MILLER, MRS. ALEX. 
 
 McYEIGH 
 
 
 Crushed Lily, A. 
 
 Eagle No. 113. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Dora Tenney. 
 
 Eagle No. 64. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Lillian, My Lillian. 
 
 Eagle No. 106. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Little Coquette Bonnie. 
 
 Eagle No. 43. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Little Southern Beauty, A. 
 
 Eagle No. 25. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Pretty Geraldine. 
 
 Eagle No. 34. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Rosamond. 
 
 Eagle No. 57. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 Senators Bride, The. 
 
 20. 
 
 
 Senator’s Favorite, The 
 
 “ 5. 
 
 
 Sweet Violet. 
 
 Eagle No. 91. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MILMAN, HARRY DU ROTS 
 
 
 Mr. Lake of Chicago. 
 
 Eagle No. 19. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MURRAY, DAYID CHRISTIE 
 
 
 Dangerous Catspaw, A. 
 
 Arrow No. 20. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 MURRAY, LIEUTENANT 
 
 
 Up the Ladder 
 
 Medal No. 13. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 (G8) 
 
NOBEIS, W. E, 
 
 Chris. Arrow No. 29. loc. 
 
 Rogue, The. Arrow No. 9. loc. 
 
 NORTH, BARCLAY. 
 
 Diamond Button, The Magnet No. 100. loc. 
 
 On the Rack Magnet No. 90. loc. 
 
 “ Vivier ” of Vivier Longmans Sc Co., Bankers “ 94. loc. 
 
 OPTIC, OlilVER 
 
 All Aboard. 
 
 Medal No. 3. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Boat Club, The. 
 
 Medal No. i. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Now or Never. 
 
 Medal No. 5. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Try Again 
 
 “ 9- 
 
 IOC. 
 
 OTIS, 
 
 JAMES 
 
 
 Chased Through Norway. 
 
 Medal No. 7. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Wheeling for Fortune 
 
 ‘‘ 20. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 PATTEN, 
 
 GILBERT 
 
 
 Boy from the West, The 
 
 Medal No. 24. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Don Kirk, the Boy Cattle King Medal No. 10. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Don Kirk’s Mine 
 
 12. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 PECK, PROF. 
 
 WM. HENRY 
 
 
 Locksmith of Lyons, The. 
 
 Eagle No. 83. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 PEMBERTON, MAX 
 
 
 Iron Pirate, The. 
 
 Arrow No. 48. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 PHILIPS, F. C. 
 
 
 As in a Looking Glass. 
 
 Arrow No. 13. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Jack and Three Jills, 
 
 Arrow No. 14. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 (ARTHUR T. 
 
 QUILLEE COfCH) 
 
 
 Dead Man’s Rock 
 
 Arrow No. 72. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 RATHBORNE, 
 
 ST. GEORGE 
 
 
 Baron Sam. 
 
 Eagle No. 30. 
 “ 26. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Captain Tom. 
 
 u 
 
 Colonel by Brevet, The. 
 
 Eagle No. 47. 
 
 '' 15. 
 
 lOCe 
 
 Dr. Jack. 
 
 
 Also in cloth, 
 
 Rose Series No. 2. 
 
 25c. 
 
 Dr.- Jack’s Wife. 
 
 Eagle No. 18. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Fair Maid of Fez, The. 
 
 “ 80. 
 
 
 Fair Revolutionist, A. 
 
 Eagle No. 115. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Girl from Hong Kong, The 
 
 Eagle No. 126. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Goddess of Africa, A. 
 
 Eagle No. loi. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 Great Mogul, The. 
 
 35- 
 
 Li 
 
 Major Matterson of Kentucky. 
 
 “ 58. 
 
 
 Miss Caprice. 
 
 28. 
 
 << 
 
 Miss Pauline of New York. 
 
 “ ' 23, 
 
 
 Monsieur Bob. 
 
 40. 
 
 ii 
 
 Mrs. Bob. 
 
 *33. 
 
 tt 
 
 Nabob of Singapore, The. 
 
 J8. 
 
 tt 
 
 Son of Mars, A. 
 
 “ 108. 
 
 4 i 
 
 Spider’s Web, The. 
 
 ‘‘ 71. 
 
 
 RICHARDSON, 
 
 LEANDER P. 
 
 
 Prairie Detective, The. 
 
 (0 9 ) 
 
 Magnet No. 37. 
 
 IOC. 
 
I; 
 
 liOSTANl), ED3IONI) 
 
 Cyrano de Bergerac. Arrow No. 
 
 HOWLANDS, EFFIE ADELAIDE 
 
 Carla ; or, Married at Sight. Eagle No. 107. 
 
 Woman Against Woman. Eagle No. 52. 
 
 ROYLE, EDWIN MILTON 
 
 Captain Impudence. Eagle No. 
 
 RUSSELL, We CLARK 
 
 Marriage at Sea, A. Arrow No. 
 
 SARDOU, yiCTORIEN 
 
 Cleopatra. Eagle No. 
 
 Fedora. << 
 
 Gismonda. 
 
 La Tosca. „ 
 
 Theodora. 
 
 SAWYER, EUGENE T. 
 
 Los Huecos Mystery, The. Magnet No. 
 
 Maltese Cross, The. Magnet No. 
 
 SHELDON, MKS. GEOROIE 
 
 Eagle No. 
 Eagle No. 
 Eagle No. iii. 
 
 122. 
 
 42. IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 82. IOC. 
 
 II. IOC. 
 
 Audrey’s Recompense. 
 Edrie’s Legacy. 
 Faithful Shirley 
 Grazia’s Mistake 
 Queen Bess. 
 
 Ruby’s Reward. 
 
 That Dowdy. 
 
 Thrice Wedded. 
 
 Tina. 
 
 Two Keys. 
 
 Virgie’s Inheritance. 
 Witch Hazel. 
 
 54. 
 
 36. 
 
 67. 
 
 61. 
 
 29. 
 
 51. 
 
 61. 
 
 99. 
 
 12. 
 
 Eagle No. I. 
 Eagle No. 2. 
 Eagle No. 44 - 
 Eagle No. 55. 
 Eagle No. 77. 
 
 . Eagle No. 7. 
 
 88 . 
 
 Eagle No. 66. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 u 
 
 IOC. 
 
 SHELDON. REV. CHARLES M. 
 
 In His Steps; What Would Jesus Do? Alliance No. i. 
 Robert Hardy’s Seven Days 2. 
 
 SHERBURNE, HARRIET 
 
 Wilful Winnie. Eagle No. 72. 
 
 SMITH, FRANCIS S. 
 
 Alice Blake. ' ' Eagle No. 100. 
 
 Little Sunshine. Eagle No. 
 
 STEYENSON, ROBERT LOUIS 
 
 Kidnapped. 
 
 Master of Ballantrae. 
 New Arabian Nights 
 Treasure Island. 
 
 Arrow No. I 5 - 
 Ar’-ow No. 5. 
 Arrow No, 75. 
 Arrow No. 24. 
 
 IOC, 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 
 IOC. 
 IOC. 
 IOC. 
 IOC. 
 (O 10)