Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, December 13, 1902, Image 1
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L. H. GRIST & sous, Publishers.} % Tamils gtirspptr: jfor the promotion of tho political, gonial, Sjrifttlturat, and gotntnerLciaI Interests of the people. {m*^7BM02oApi"^?lcCTgf''c''
ESTABLISHED 18557 YORKVILLE, S. C., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13, 19Q2. MO. 100.
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IREFORME
If By CHARLES M. SHELDON.
TT Author of "b His Steps.*" "Robert Hardy's Seven I
tii
:?|mL CopvrlghL, 1901, bv Charles if. Shclck
Imwtmmmmmmt
STNOPSIS OP PRECEDING CHAPTER. S
John Gordon, heir to riches, refuses r
a position in his father's bank and jj
leaves home, father and sister to work
for the people of the slums. Sordid
money getting and a life of frivolity b
are revolting to him.
~ _ 1]
I' '
Vf/fl A lllv' re you qulte sure *v
^?U un(^r8tnn(* ^
ly, but his look did i
not betray any anxiety yet. He had ']
been talking to Luella Marsh for several
minutes. His face also was grave, t
almost solemnly 60, but there was a
growing expression of uneasiness upon
it as she turned her head toward her
lover.
"1 think so?yes," she said slowly.
"In other words, you mean no." said
John Gordon, smiling slowly.
Luella Marsh returned the smile and
then became instantly grave again.
"1 would like to ask you a few more g
questions. May I?" t
"Of course." r
"Then I don't know that I am quite
clear in my mind as to your exact rea- ^
sons for leaving your own home. Will e
you try to make me understand thatV" c
"Luella"- He paused, and for the n
first time a fear grew upon him that f
he was going to fail to make her un- v
dnrxfnrul the real crisis in his life. c
Was this the attitude of the woman c
who could prove to be the companion c
lie would need? Would she hesitate s
and demand nil these proofs and rea- c
sous, all these explanations? And yet 0
he felt the need of her. She had thus v
far satisfied liiiu. and as he faced her f
now there was only one prayer in his
heart, and that was that she would p
finally cast in her lot with his and say: j
"Where thou goest I will go. Thy peo- t
pie shall be my people and thy God a
my God." I
He began his explanation while Lu r
ella leaned her chin on her band and e
watched him with deepening seriousness.
o
"I am thirty years old. From the s
time of my birth I have been used to r
every luxury. I have enjoyed all the
elegant comforts of a rich, exclusive, y
proud family. My fathers ambition, p
as you kuow, has always been the am- (
bit ion of a man who has lived a life li
as remote from the common people as a
if he had been born in some other /.
world. I have grown up In this at- v
mosphere. I have known as little of
the people and their real life as my <]
father. Up to the time of my religious o
experience I cared as little for the peo- c
pie as I knew about them. Since that v
experience my whole object In living L
has changed. I find myself longing to r
know the people as much as I already i li
love them. It is not enough that I | p
love them at a distance. I must know L
from close personal experience their e
dally life. As near as possible I must t
partake of their sorrows, their prlva- 1
tions, their misery. Do not answer 1<
me yet." John Gordon eagerly re- I
strained a movement 011 Luella's part a
to interrupt with a word. "Why should a
I not do this. I who have all my life I
tasted the luxury of soft and easy i
physical living? There is only one I
thing for me to do if I accomplish my e
life's ambition now, and that Is to e
leave the surroundings that are so 1
completely opposed to all the life of t
the people I have come to love In order 'J
that I may know, if possible, as well t
as love, with intelligent power to help." t
"And you ask me to leave my home
as you leave yours?" >
She did not look at him while asking t
the question, but in the silence that ^
followed before he replied she turned ^
her face full toward him. Ills answer 1
came very calmly, but his voice in 1
spite of him trembled a little. 1
"The woman who becomes my wife 1
will make her home with me. We shall J
share alike whatever the future con- t
tains." f
It was perhaps at this moment that 1
Luclla Marsh had her first glimpse '
into John Gordon's real character. She '
had never given him credit for much 1
Imagination or poetic feeling. In real- 1
Ity he had a great deal of both. But '
? ^
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he did not change "her position of set
~*.mm M 4-1% ' !? 1 % +*.* *% Ci? A ATI 1 t* fllnnA/1 I
IUU8 UJIIl'Aa. one \JlliJ IU11ICU
icr head a little as she said:
"Where do you intend to make your
ionic? Will you tell me in detail?"
"I have not fully decided; probably
a Hope House."
"And you expect me to live with you
here?"
"If you marry me, yes." John Gor[on
spoke with effort. Ills fear had
;rown with every word she uttered,
vitli every new question she put to
lilU.
"I will never"? she began and rose
o her feet. Gordon rose instantly.
"Wait a moment!" She sat down and
aotioned him to be seated. "Wait! I
rant to think awhile."
She put her hands over her face, and
olin Gordon watched and waited. His
leart was hungry for her love, but his
oul trembled for what he thought was
o be her decision. As the minutes
rent by and she still made no motion
lis conviction deepened that Ills knowldge
of her character und motives was
uperiicial. All that he really knew
ras to some degree the strength of her
ersonality. He knew she could not be
aoved by pleading. If she would not
o with him out of a love that pleaded
ts own cause, John Gordon knew that
io other motive would prevail.
When she finally lifted her head, she
ut her hands behind her and looked
ull and frank into his face. But what
lie said surprised him at first until he
aw its bearing on her final answer.
"You used the word 'people' a good
uany times in what you said about
our reasous for leaving your father's
louse. Tell me what you mean by it."
"By the word?" He was doubtful as
o her meaning.
"Yes. just what do you mean by sayng
you are moved by a love for the
people.'"
"1 mean the masses, the multitudes,
he people, the humanity that works
vith its hands for a living, the humanty
that toils at the furnace and the
oom and the maehine, the humanity
hat lives on days' wages and lives to
iroduce the things that give persons
ike you and me pleasure, the things
ve say we must have for our luxurious
astes. Luella!" John Gordon spoke
or the first time with the same pasion
he had used in the interview with
lis father, a passion that sounded the
lew note of his redeemed manhood.
"What have we known or cared for
mmanity? Our days have been wast
a in seinsn ana roonsn gratincuuou
if the souses, while these, our brothers
nd sisters, have been not only uncared
or by us. but actually unknown. Of
vhnt value our boasted culture, our
legaut houses, our tine spun clothing,
iur fastidious habits, if in the refinement
of a civilization that is veneered
elfishness we play our little plays like
hildren and never wake to the power
f usefulness as grownup men and
voinen who have giants' work to do
or the weak and less fortunate?"
Luella Marsh listened in genuine surmise.
This was another new phase of
?er lover's character. But there were
hings said by him that angered her,
.lthough while John Gordon was talkng
she was saying to herself, "I did
!ot know he had any gifts as a speaker
that would bear developing."
Looking up at him, noting the flush
f feeling on his generally pale face,
he spoke the first impulsive thought
oused by what he said.
"Do you really classify lives like
ours and mine as 'useless?' Are the
ieoplo, then, the only useful beings?
)r is it true that the people as you
lave deiined them are such a needy
ud suffering quantity as you say?
ire they not as selfish in their way as
ve are in ours?"
He heard her in surprise. It was
luickly becoming more clear to each
f them that they had much to learn
if each other's personality. Still, he
ras resolved not to argue matters. He
lad come with one clear, simple puruse
In his mind. He did not wish to
inve it obscured or put into second
ilace. If Luella Marsh would go with
im into the life he had chosen, he knew
nougii of her to feel certain that both
heir lives would be strengthened and
eautified: that if she once cast in her
- *- ? t4i. UI? -1- - ...^..1.1 MAMA. Ua1?
JI Willi LllLLI MJtT WUU1U LlOCl IWH
?aek, but would go on clear to the end
nd bear all things with growing Joy
nd pence. If she decided to reject
lini and his career because of details
n It that were unknown or questiona?le.
then he hud no calui answer to his
iwn heart as to the result on himself
xcopt to say that his path would be a
onely one. But he was of determinaion
not to leave the matter unsettled.
I'hey were not children, but grown
nan and woman, and should be able
o know their own minds.
"Luella, I did not come here to argue
vith you"?he spoke with great genleness
in reply to her questions?"I
vant you. I love you. That means I
vould not hide one particle of the truth
'roiu you. If you marry me, It will
>e a life of burden bearing, it will be
t future full of pain in many ways, It
ivlll mean very largely a total breaking
tway from all the soft, easy, pleasant
social relations we have both known
since we were born. All this is true. I
ivould not try to soften it for you.
r>ut it will he a joyful life, a life of
satisfaction, a life full of the consciousness
of helping to make a better world,
of doing something besides playing, Luellal"
He forgot in his feeling what he
had said ever since he knew her, that
eke could not be moved by pleading,
and, rising suddenly, he went over and
kneeled beside her. "Luella! Tell me
this simply: Do you love me enough
to share the unknown future with me?
Will you not come with me, trusting in
our love for each other to bear us over
hard places and explain new experiences
as fast as they become real to
us?"
She trembled and hesitated. She had
but to reach out her hand and put It in
John Gordon's and say one word. She
did not move nor speak for almost a
minute. Then she said, looking straight
in front of her:
"Must I give an answer now?"
"Luelln, you have already given me
answer! You have promised to be my
wife!" The words were spoken by
him In a moment of great longing as
he saw her indecision nnd foresaw her
inevitable answer.
Her eyes darkened a little.
"I never promised to be the wife
of""The
wife of"? John Gordon repeated
after a silence so long that its
suspense was not bearable to him.
"I hardly know how to finish"? She
uttered a short laugh, and John Gordon
rose at once to his feet. "I can
never live in Hope House," she added
in a low tone.
"Is that your answer, then?" He
stood looking at her calmly, but she
did not look up.
"Yes," she finally replied.
"Then we must go our separate ways,
so help us God!" he exclaimed in a
sudden burst of passion, for his heart
was hot within him.
He paused a moment irresolutely and
then started to go out She had not
made any motion nor lifted her head
to look at him. At the door he turned
for un instant and saw, to his astonishment,
that her proud head lay on her
urrns, which were outstretched on the
table near which she had been sitting.
He was back by her side, kneeling
again and calling her name. When she
lifted her head, there were tears on her
glowing cheeks.
"Trthn I minnnt honr to have it BO."
I U V11U, JL VUUMVV WW ?
"Then do you love me, Luella, enough
to share all with me?" he cried.
"Yes; I love you, John," she said
slowly. But even as she said it she
drew back from him a little. "At the
same time I do not see why it is necessary
to live at Uope House."
"Not uecessarily there, but somewhere
among the people. Luella, do
you not understand my reasons for
wanting to know the people?"
"I am not sure," she replied in a
troubled tone, and then suddenly she
turned away from him and put her
head down on her arms again.
John Gordon rose and walked up and
down the room. Twice as he went
past the table he paused irresolutely,
his mind In a turmoil, his heart uncertain.
The third time he stopped, with
a decision In his manner, and placed
bis hand on her head.
"I do not ask you to marry me unless
you can trust everything to me. If
you are not able to say without any
fear or doubt, 'I will go with you in
all the way you have chosen,' I do not,
I cannot, plead with you, Luella. Is
that asking too much, dear? Can the
man who loves you ask any less?"
"No, no, he can ask no less! But,
John, I fear to go"? She had raised
her head and was looking at him with
more agitation than he had ever known
her to show. "I am not certain that I
am fitted, that I am adapted, for such
a Life. I have a horror of the places?
the?I do not love the people, John, as
you say you do. Am I to blame for
that?"
She asked the question almost timidly,
but nothing could soften the hardness
of the statement to him. He did
not yet see that the one thing that kept
her from coming to him without any
questions was her lack of religious experience.
She did not love the people
because all her life had been so far
devoted to a love of the things that
had surrounded her social position.
"No, I do not think you are to blame.
But, oh, Luella, could you not learn to
love them? Could you not come with
me and let the future"?
"I could not pretend," she began,
with a return of her proud attitude.
"I do not ask you to pretend. If
you love me. will not all the rest be
possible?"
She was silent a moment. Then sud
denly she looked up aud jald frankly:
"I would not be true to you if I kept
anything back. I not only do not love
the people as you do. but I do not see
why you should sacrifice your life to
them, as you plan to do. I cannot see
that you will accomplish anything."
"And Is accomplishment the great
and only thing? Is there nothing In
being or In striving regardless of accomplishment?
But I cannot argue
the matter. If you love me enough,
Luella. all the rest will follow; If you
don't. It will all be useless to you."
She still looked at him with the un
certain, disturbed ulr that had marked
her manner when he first began to talk
to her, only the look had deepened Into
an expression of doubt and painful
unrest.
"I do not see the need of all you plan
to do. I do not see the need." she said
slowly.
"You would not have to see that If
you only loved me." he replied In a low
tone, and there was a hopelessness In
it that had not been present before,
lie stood looking at her. and suddenly
he added:
"Let us be entirely frank, Luella,
that we may not misunderstand. You
shrink from the thought of living In a
place like Hope House; you hesitate to
commit your future to me because of
the physical losses, the absence in our
future of these physical luxuries we
have both known. Into which we have
becu born?is that it? Your love for me
is not strong enough to make this loss
seem lnslgnilicant?Is that true?"
It was a blunt question, and he purposely
put it bluntly, perhaps more so
than was fair to her. Over her face
the color deepened, and she evidently
Celt the Implied reproach in his summing
up of her hesitation.
"That Is not quite the truth."
"A part of It?"
"You have no right to force such a
question upon me."
"I have a right to know the whole
truth."
"You would not understand"?
"I would understand everything If
you loved me enough to go with me
without question."
"Love does not mean being unrea
sonable."
"Yes, Luella, It does, at least this
far?that love will trust where It cannot
always give reasons."
She was silent again.
He took a step nearer.
"Luella, one question only: If I decide
that I must go to live in Hope
House, will you go with me? Or
will you refuse on account of the physical
and social loss?"
She looked at him steadily at first,
although her color deepened and her
lips trembled.
"You have no right to ask such a
question."
"I have?the right of a man who
loves you."
"Then I will say not go, not for the
reason you think, but"?
"It is not necessary to explain," John
Gordon answered sadly. "Luella, it is
plain to me that you do not love me."
"You have no right to make any such
test!" she exclulmed passionately.
She stood up and faced him proudly,
and he simply looked into her eyes a
moment and then turned and wulked
out of the room. This time he did not
look back. As he closed the door, Luella
Marsh fell upon ber knees by the
side of the table, exclaiming:
"God pity me! God have mercy!"
John Gordon went out of the house
calmly enough, although his heart was
torn with passionate conflict. As the
current of the city swept him on, there
surged up in his soul hot anger that
be had ever loved this woman who
could not have the test of faith In the
man who loved her. But it wus at this
crisis that his real religious experience
rescued him from wreck. Had it not
been for that this story had never been
told. But as he went his way that day
his anger fell, and in its place there
grew up a tender memory that left no
room for harsh judgment.
But for the present he was overwhelmed
by the result. He had put
Luella Marsh Into the altar place of a
proud man's affection. Every day
since the time she had pledged her
heart to his he had thanked God for
what had been given him. Her apparent
response to his ambitions, especially
noticeable In her correspondence
during his absence, bad exhilarated
him. To find now that she would not
trust her life tp him because he had
chosen a career of hardship and loss
of physical things struck him the severest
blow he had ever experienced.
The failure on the part of his father
and sister to understand or sympathize
became insignificant compared with
this event. As he walked along he began
to torture himself with questions.
Had he made a mistake in taking ber
answer as fluul? Had be, as she said,
no right to make such a test? Was it
asking too much of any woman to ask
her to leave u home of luxury to which
she had been accustomed from birth
and so at once Into surroundings that
were repulsive to her? And then she
had confessed that she did not love the
people as he did, but?was that an un
pardonable sin? Yet he had felt when
she said It as If an impassable gulf
had suddenly been dug between them
Had he acted as a man should act who
has so uiueh at stake as in this case?
The torture of these questions was so
keen that after walking several blocks
he turned to go buck.
"I must see her again," he kept saying.
"I cannot let It end here."
He went up the steps and rang the
bell. The servant who came to the
door eyed him curiously.
"Miss Marsh has gone out," she said,
and John Gordon at first did not believe
her until be remembered that the
carriage was standing at the curb
when he left Luella and that she had
said something about going out to the
park before tea.
He slowly went down the steps, and
when he was on the sidewalk he
paused.
Perhaps In all his life he had never
felt so lonely as at that moment. The
consciousness that his father and sister
and now the woman who had
? ' 1 " U?~ ?I Un/4 Mnrvn/1111 fQ/1
promised iu ue ma wne uuu u-puuuiw
Ills life smote him with a sense of personal
abandonment that was keen and
searching.
For a moment he felt so completely
alone that he let go of every motive for
action. The city and the overwhelming
thought of Its misery and sin and
selfishness enraged him. "Let us eat.
drink and be merry, for tomorrow we
die!" he cried out. and nothing at that
moment would have saved John Gordon
except the fact that what he had
mentioned to his father and sister and
Luella as his religious experience was
the greatest fact so far In his career.
As he stood still there at the foot of the
steps gradually his spirit grow calmer.
The consciousness of God In his
life grow stronger. The purpose of his
ambition cleared. And after a little
while he started on, knowing that his
life work would not be changed In its
main intent by anything that had so
far happened. Only as he went on he
also know that he could not and would
not be the same man and do the same
things in some parts of his earthly vision
as if Luella .Marsh had decided to
walk with him in the way. It was also
quite clear to him tli..t without being
able to give a good reason for It he
was not closing the chapter with Luella
yet. He certainly entertained the
idea of her still coming into his life.
It was not from his Interview with
her that he drew any such hope. But
he knew that he did not yet consider
hoc notion aa final, or nossiblv it was
his own Jictlon that was not tinal.
He stopped at a corner, and the sight
of a street name on a car going by decided
his next movement.
with such freshness In such surrounding.
"If oleanders ever had any fragrance
In this part of the city, they must
almost smell of beer and sewer gas,"
he said to himself as he went on Into
the broad hall that opened on the court
He was by no means a stranger to
Hope House. Since his return from
abroad he had been a frequent visitor
and had been welcomed with that Inner
welcome that springs from well
known common purposes.
"You are just in time!" called out a
quiet but cheerful voice as John Gordon
stepped into the doorway of the dining
hall. "Miss Manning is absent. You
may take her seat by me."
"I count myself fortunate," John Gordon
replied as he took the seat, returning
the greetings of those at the
table.
"We were talking about you," said
the head of the house, with her quiet
but earnest manner.
"I'm sorry to Interrupt the conversation,"
replied John Gordon.
"No interruption, we assure you. We
are glad you came in, for you are the
only person who can answer a question
Mr. Ford Just asked."
"Rather a personal question, Mr.
Gordon," said Ford, a student from
the university, who was a resident of
several months' standing. "The question
I asked Miss Andrews was this:
'What is Mr. Gordon going to do? Will
he possibly come in here with us?'"
John Gordon did not answer the
question at once. He knew the complete
freedom of the social atmosphere
of Hope House, especially at mealtimes.
and understood well that his silence
would not be misconstrued as
disbourtesy.
o ? >*1 fKn /iIm/iIo af no r.
Clt; itnjtvtu muuiiu im; v.u?.ib vi vui
nest, friendly faces at the table, and
bis gaze included, as it bad many times
before, tbe room itself, with its high,
dark wainscoting, its few but choice
portraits, Its plain but attractive homelikeness;
but, as on every other occasion.
his look finally came back to the
face of the head of the house, for she
was the genius of the place.
Grace Andrews was In her thirtyalxtb
year. At the time John Gordon
first met her at Hope House she had
been in charge of the settlement for
twelve years. Twelve years of association
with desperate human problems
such as those that swarmed like
the people themselves had left on her
face marks of that human, divine
calmness that all great women bear
who have loved the people. If Grace
Andrews did not Impress strangers or
visitors as being great In any real
sense. It was because the look of her
face spoke of a quiet peace that so
many people superficially associate
with meekness, but do not consider as
an element of power. The residents of
Hope House understood all that, and
tbe oldest residents understood it better
than the youngest and had more
unquestioned reverence for the greatness
of Grace Andrews than those
who had less knowledge of her.
It was with a deepening consciousness
of what this woman was and of
her wonderful life and Influence that
Juun Gordon came Into her presence.
He uuu uiei uer uunug mo uunmui.,)
career when some special studies had
taken him down to Hope House. And
one of the first places he had visited on
his return from abroad had been the
dining room with its fellowship life
presided over by that central figure
that dominated the entire group. It
was at that first meeting that he had
frankly told her and the residents
(something of his religious experience
and its bearing on his life work. It
was that frank confidence that had led
up to the question by Ford.
"Well?" .Miss Andrews finally said
/is John Gordon seemed ready to speak
after looking at her so intently. During
his silence the conversation at the
table had gone on In a quiet but natural
fashion. Every one in Hope House
always gave every one else perfect
freedom for his personality, and no
one felt at all disturbed when John
Gordon did not reply at once to the
student's query. They all paused in
their talk when he Rpoke.
"I've been thinking of It. I would
count It an honor to be part of your
family." He spoke to .Miss Andrews,
but Included all the table with a gesture.
"I'm still In some doubt concerning
my future. I am sure you are
enough interested In me to care to
know that I have left my own home.
I am just at present without a permanent
place of abode. Perhaps you
would be willing to take me In."
lie spoke somewhat lightly, but not
WllIlUlll a cerium BrnuuBiiraa iii.il uil-,1
all seemed to understand. Miss Andrews
glanced at bim quickly and said
with a real tone of sympathy:
"We would not only give you a hearty
welcome, Mr. Gordon, but count ourselves
fortunate to have you with us."
"Thank you," he replied gratefully.
"I would not come Into the house, of
course, except as one who would take
the position of a learner. I have everv
""I'll go aud'take tea at Hope House,"
he said to himself, and took the car,
noting, by the time, that he would
reach the house just as the little family
of residents were In the habit of sitting
down to their evening meal.
Hope House stood In the midst of Its
desert of tenements and its corner saloons
and vaudeville halls like an oasis
of refuge and strength. Saloons to
right and left and front and rear, with
piles of brick and wood and rubbish
flung together in chaotic, tumbled
heaps, with openings for human beings
who streamed In and out of court
and alley and doorway or sat In pallid,
huddled masses on the stoops or curbing
formed the frame In which Hope
House was set, unique and alone.
John Gordon left the car one block
from Hope House and walked down
past five saloons In the block until he
came to the arched entrance of the
house. Going into the little court, he
breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of
the familiar oleander tubs that stood
against the outer wall of the court, and
rrmrveled nt their ahilltv to blossom
thing to learn and nothing to contribute.
You would have to teach me the i
simplest duties of a resident. Miss An- i
drews. I at least would be a very will- i
ing and obedient pupil."
"I have no doubt of that," she replied,
with a smile. "But the people <
who act that way are dangerously apt <
to be in a position to teach their teachers
in time." I
"I shall never be able to teach the '
teacher in Hope House," said John 1
Gordon earnestly. Miss Andrews laugh- <
ed, and the faintest tinge of color ap- 1
peared on her cheeks. "We are all 1
learners here. Let hiui who has not '
learned something today hold up his I
hand. Not a hand in sight. Oh, we are 1
all in the nrimarv class! The Deople '
are the alphabet of God. And we have
not yet learned the alphabet."
The talk gradually circled the table,
while John Gordon continued to tell
I Miss Andrews something In detail of
the interview with his father and sister.
After the meal was over the residents
scattered to their work, but half
a dozen with Miss Andrews and John
Gordon lingered a few minutes in the
library and living room, which opened
out of the wide hall, next the old fashioned
staircase which went up near
the center of the room, for Hope
House had .formerly been an old family
mansion, and it stood now In its
solitary refinement of interior in complete
contrast to every building in the
dismal district now ruled and ruined
by the human ruins that pleaded day
and night for rebuilding until the souls
of the residents grew weary with the
burden, and God either grew dally
i farther away or closer by, in proportion
as the workers in the settlement
grew more and more to love the people
or more and more to lose faith in
their redemption.
When John Gordon finally went
away, he had practically promised to
become a permanent resident of Hope
House. Something of John Gordon's
family history was known to most of
the residents, und there was enough of
the romantic and unusual in such a de- 1
cislon as his to stir the imagination of
the earnest young men and women
who had thrown in their lot with Hope
House and what it stood for in the city.
When John Gordon came out from
the archway and turned Into the street
It wu8 after 9 o'clock. He walked
: along for half a dozen blocks, trying to
i reulize what his life work would be
< in such a place. Whatever else It
; would be, he knew it would be a life
i that would demand Inexorably all the
manhood possible. As he stopped and
j looked buck down the street and rej
alized its wretchedness, its discomfort,
its squalor, its moral filth, his heart
cried out for strength, his soul felt
compussion and anger and longing,
and his love of the people, to his Intense
satisfaction, grew In spite of
what they were and because of what
they were.
He was still standing there, absorbed
In his thought of future possibilities,
when a man put his hand on his shoulder
and said familiarly:
"John, do you want good company?
I'm with you if you do."
"David!" cried John Gordon In astonishment.
"How do you happen to
be here?"
"Studying life, eh?" said David Barton
as he put his arm within his
friend's and walked on.
"But how does it happen that you"?
"Having a week's vacation. Harris
told me I'd better go to Colorado. Been
down here every night."
John Gordon walked on in deepening
astonishment
"Come up to the rooms and let us
have a talk," said Barton, and John
Gordon quietly agreed. They took a
car and after riding two miles left the
car, walked two blocks and came out
on Park Boulevard, where David Barton,
managing editor of the Daily
News, had apartments.
When they were seated, David BarA,
? .? <1 at Ktl f Wn/1
iuu lurui'u it auuip, uci tuuo, uui uuuly
face toward John Gordon.
"Surprised to see me down In the
region of Hope House? Great place.
Isn't It? Worth more than a trip to
the Rockies to go through the show."
"Do you mean to say you have never
been down around Hope House before?"
"I've been there several times, my
son."
"Do you know Miss Andrews?"
"Knew her before you were out of
high school." I
"You never told me."
"Why should I tell you everything at 1
once?" i
"Several years Is not at once," replied
John Gordon, with a smile.
For answer the older man gravely
said after a pause:
"How old are you. John?"
"Thirty.". '
"And I'm forty. The pace Is killing ,
ine. Harris says I may last five years ,
more. I doubt It He is evidently anx- ]
Ions to keep me going the Ave yeurs.
Do I look bad?" j
He thrust his pale, nervous face for- J
ward, and John Gordon was almost ,
shocked at his friend's manner. He ,
was so much moved that he rose and
went over and laid his hand on the
other man's arm.
"David, you're not well. Why don't j
you take Harris' advice and go out to
Colorado, not for a week, but for a
year?"
"As bad as that?" David Barton
said dryly. "I think I'm good for the
five years. But tell me about yourself."
"I've left home, and I'm going to take
up residence In Hope House."
"No! What! Live there?" (
David Barton seemed to pay no at- (
tention to the fact of his friend's leaving
home.
"I've been there tonight and made ,
definite arrangements with Miss An- ,
drews. I must go there In order to fit I
myself for my work."
"Your work?"
"Yes; for the people," replied John s
Gordon simply.
'Tooh! The people!"
David Barton sniffed contemptuously. <
LUC UI1UI iiiioll c4 llvu l/j duviiiuq ??.v
rotten concern. 1 tell you. John, there's
-in earthquake going to rattle the city
ball this winter." and Harris and the
News will be one name for the earthquake.
The old man is just In the
mood for pushing the reform business
in the uume of the people. He will
agree to anything I say. The press is
the only real power left in the dty anyhow.
Think of what you can do for
the people with the News back of you. ?
We can make a special business of the
slum boles and make it mighty Interesting
for some of the old moneybags
of this God forsaken metropolis. Don't
answer at once. At any rate, give me
time to cough."
David Barton sat down close by John
Gordon and bad a coughing spell that
lasted a few minutes. John Gordon silently
watched him. steadily excited
by the offer just made to blm. Gould
he accept It? Was it not one of those
opportunities that men have come to
them but pnce? What might be not do
for the people If a whole page of a
great, powerful, practically boundless,
wealthy paper were at his disposal?
The material he could put before the
public! The conditions be could expose!
The wrongs lie could right! The
lives he might save! The possibilities
grew larger every moment he thought
of 11:.
Dhvld Barton Anally ceased coughing
and spoke again.
"Well, will you come Into the News?
What do you say?"
But John Gordon did not answer at
once. Suddenly be had thought of Ln- 1
elin Marsh. If she would not marry
hiin as a resident of Hope House, would
she uot be proud to be the wife of a
writer on one or tue tnom iwwmui
dailies of the world? And the same
object would be gained for the people.
But how about his declaration that he
must kuow the people by direct knowledge
gained by living amoug them?
Yet could be not do that in some
way and still put this modern lever of
the press under the problem?
He faced his friend with strong feeling.
The day bad been full of events
for him, but this closing event affected
him In some ways deeper than all the
rest
to be continued.
Wouldn't Do For an Undertaker.
?When the late Warren Ridgeway,
politician, sportsman and speculator,
was noted in Pike county, Pennsylvania,
for his conviviality and quaint
sayings, it being necessary to attend
to business in New York one day, he
Iropped fishing and chartered a rig
at Mllford to go to Port Jervis. The
horse was slow and the driver a sleepy
lout of a boy who, In spite of an urging,
failed to get more than a compromise
between a walk and a trot out
af the sorry beast. Just as the vehicle
turned into Metamoras, Warren
moused himself and drawled:
nub?"
"Yass, sir."
"What yer going' to be when yer
;rown up?"
"Dunno; g'lang. Why d'ye ask?"
"Whatever ye do don't be an under:aker."
"Why not, Mr. Ridgeway?"
"'Cause you'd never get yer first
?orpse 'round in time fer th' resurrec:ion;
that's why."
XT Three rivers as big as the Rhine
vould just equal in volume the Ganges,
three Ganges the Mississippi and
:wo Mississippis the Amazon.
XST Four thousand seven hundred and
seventy miles of thread have been spun
>ut of a single pound of cotton.
XT The selfish person is quick to accept
the generosity of others.
"Who knows who the people are?" lie
stopped suddenly, and bis whole manner
changed. His sharp, abrupt indifferent
alertness was smothered out of
bis face like magic. He rose and
walked through the room while John
Gordon, who understood his moods
quite well, listened in astonishment
"John, listen to me. I believe 1
know something of your plans and ambitious.
You're the only man I know
who would do what you propose to do.
I don't have much faith in it At the
same time I believe in you, John. 1
3I>oke contemptuously of the people,
but in ray heart, John. I love the people.
I am oue of them. Tonight as 1
saw children rotting in those boles I
:*ould have died for them. But the
martyr's stuff is not In me to die for
them except by proxy. Let me tell you,
John, you are going at the thing backbanded.
What do you want to go and
live in Hope House for? Miss Andrews
Is doing splendid work, but even her
efforts don't accomplish anything. Coniitions
are as bad there now as they
were twelve years ago. Ifs good flesh
ind blood thrown to the lions while
the politicians and the gang look on
md laugh at the human helplessness.
Why. it Is simply an outrage on civilisation
tiiat a city like this lets a wornin
like .Miss Andrews die by martyr
Join in that Infernal bell on earth and
never gives ber the financial and social
support she ought to have. And the
bounds that own the tenements and
sii loons and vaudeville property live in
luxury and pose as leaders in society
tod allow conditions to be created that
roll a stream of desperate human problems
over Miss Andrews that will kill
b?a* In a few years. Yes, kill herF
David Barton spoke with a savage
energy that made John Gordon shudler.
But when Barton had been silent
1 moment be continued in a calmer
tone to make a proposition to John GorJon
that John was totally unprepared
for.
"Instead of going Into Hope House
why don't you come Into the News? I
mo speak for Harris that he will give
you full swing on the reform page of
your own You can have It all your
own way I'll help you with special
stories and pictures that will make the
property owners around Riverside
street squirm. Harris Is savage with
the mayor because of last year's campaign.
He'll be glad to get even with
?*rlmInlaftHitlnn Ko ohntrlno tin thp