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SHEL00N Author of "In iis Steps," -Robert flardy's Se Copytr,1, bi ChIarkcs M. $ CHAPTER IV. /0, A :j 11 77c stnuk the iatch and - teditup. ISS ANDREWS had come into the room and up to the table before John Gordon raised his head. "These names" "You found them. Of course I in nded you should. I am sorry for ou." Miss Andrews spoke sadly. "Sorry for me: Sorry for them; Miss undrews! I am not altogether sur rised to find my father's name'here, ut Mr. 3Marsh" He was silent a moment. "Mr. Marsh?" Miss Andrews asked, Ld John Gordon, who had been won lering if he could tell Miss Andrews ything about Luella, realized that ;he was in total ignorance of Luella id her father. "Mr. Marsh is senior member of the irm of Marsh, Lyon & Humber, elec z'icians. He is an old friend of my rther. I have known him since I was boy and always respected him. It x,'s a great surprise to me to find his ame here." "Why should it be?" Miss Andrews lestioned calmly. "Business in many Pf its regular methods is not noted :or refined and loving expression of the 'olden Rule. Most of the names in that ist are names of men who fare sump uously every day and are counted nong the best citizens." "I've made up my mind what to do," ohn Gordon said irrelevantly. "I am oing to see my father, and" "And what?" "I won't promise until I have seen im. But you know better than I do tat the city ordinances are violated a ozen times in the Waterside district. Ihe overcrowding, the plumbing, the >bsence of lighting, are all in direct vio tion of every ordinance on the sub ect. Scores of the tenants complained hat their landlords refused to do any hing." Miss Andrews said not'iing, but she yed John Gordon with her customary mlmness. It was the calmness of one -ho has been through the entire hell fpolitical apathy and municipal in ompetency and'criminal neglect and ;tll preserves its equanimity. "Let me know the result of your in erview, please,'.' she finally said as ohn Gordon lapsed into a silent brood Ie went into the business city next y and entered the bank of which Iufus Gordon was president with a eelng that he strove to subdue and he prayer that he might not be pro yoked into saying some things that burned in his heart. At the same time hen he was once in his father's pres nce he bogan to doubt his ability to discuss the facts calmly. Mr. Rufus Gordon showed no sur rise at the sight of his son, although 1e two'had not met since that event u1 day when -John Gordon had taken somewhat formal leave of his home. "Will you take a seat?" Rufus Gor don spoke with the cold politeness he might have shown any man who had In all probability come to negotiate for John Gordon remained standing and came at once to the point of his er "Father, we have decided each to go his own way, but that does not mean haat we are never to have anything more to do with each other, does It?" "When you are tired of your present yoolshness, you can come back." There was the faintest suggestion In Rufus Gordon's manner of relenting in his tone and attitude. The lips trembled slightly, and the eyes rested for just an instant on the son's face before oming back to the apparently indiffer ent gaze that had been directed at the "I have not come to talk of that, father. It is impossible for me to change my purpose. What I have come to see you about is this: You control some tenant property in Waterside dis trict, Bowen street, two blocks south of Hope House. Do you know from personal knowledge the condition of that property?" Instantly over Rufus Gordon's face swept an angry wvave of color. "It is none of your business! This Is part of your contemptible meddling as areformer in other people's affairs!" "But it is my business! It is the business of every man, Father, do von know the horrible condition of that property and the awful condition of the people living there?" Rufus Gordon made no answer, but the anger was evidently deepening in him. John Gordon waited a moment. All his accumulated passion growing out of what he had seen and heard dur ing that one short week in Hope House was in danger of rising like a torrent against his own father. But when he spoke it was with an earnestness that realed his attempt at self mastery. Nos. 17 and 10, owned by you, raher, contain seventeen families. 'ey ar, as i sup)pose you know; front udd rear tenements. They are both horribly out ot repair and absolutely unit or human habitation. Take the ase of the plubing. There are no revents to any of the pipes, and only nn waste pipe has a trap. That is of no alue because of the condition of h ectch basins, which are below round and have simply become so loogged with grease that they are cess pools that overilow the cour't and even ru -an ovr no hmaent.~ where two ~g4444v ,en Days," Etc. cddon faniies- -alre- livimg. B3aca or No. 19 on the alley is a stable in which a vegetable dealer keeps two horses and a cow. Thcse are directly under a room which has been added to the old brick bakery, that is in a terrible state of decay and threatens to fall down. If it does, as it is liable to do at any time, it will certainly result in the death or injury of the tenants. All the plumbing is in direct violation of a distinct city ordinance which ma..es it an offense to put in piping without traps, revents and catch basins to ac cumulate material that clogs the sewer connections. The overcrowding is sim ply indescribable. "In both these tenements that you own and control there is less than 200 square feet of floor area for families of from five to seven, living in three and two rooms. There are six bed rooms in No. 17 that are absolutely dark and that in spite of the ordinnce which provides that every room of a tenement or lodging house must have window space equal to at least one tenth of its floor area. These rooms not only do not have one-tenth window space, but they do not have any at all. They are simply dark rooms, the only light and air that ever enter them be ing what can get in through the door, which in many cases opens on a middle room, which in turn has no light or air except what can enter through a shaft between the front and rear tene ments only six feet wide and into which the tenants throw their garbage because the boxes in front are broken and overflowing. Father, these human beings are rotting in these inhumaF surroundings, and no language can convey the awful horror or child life, the cruel torture of mother life com pelled to give birth to children, to nurse sick babies, to prepare meals, to endeavor to obtain sleep or rest, in the heart of overpowering odors, all in less space and with less light and air than a human being would grant to a suffering dumb animal. Father, the property owners of tenement buildings in this city are paying less attention to immortal creatures made in God's im age than they pay to- sick cats or im ported toy dogs or blooded race horses. And, oh, father, for the sake of all this tortured life, of these- children born without playgrounds, of these mothers who struggle to keep decent and 'these girls who go down to ruin under the stress of the inhuman crowd *ing, will you not do something? You can do it. The old buildings can be destroyed. They never can be repaired. They are simply alive with vermin and disease. But new buildings, cov ering the legal space on the lot, could be put up and be made to pay better than the old ones. You could save the lives of children for the future. You could" "Arc you lecturing at me?" Rufus Gordon suddenly interrupted, his fat flabby face white with passion. "I know my own business, and I will at tend to it!" John Gordon took a step nearer and gazed with painful intentness into his father's face. "Then do you mean to say, father, that you will not raise a finger to right these great wrongs? Will you not" "I will attend to my affairs as I think best and without any meddling from any one!" "But, father, all this has nothing to do with our difference of opinion as to my choice of a career. It is simply an appeal In the name of a common hu marity. Will you not do this much at least? Will you go down to Bowen street anid see things for yourself?" "I will not! My agent attends to all the business." "Have you ever been there? Have you ever looked at the misery with your own eyes?" "It is none of your business!" Rufus Gordon started up in his chair and confronted his son. This time the man's cheeks had a deep red spot on them, and his fingers twitched nervously. The stoop of his shoulders, the wrinkles about his eyes, the whole pose and atti tude, revealed to John Gordon even more than during that memorable in terview when his father had refused to give his sanction to lhis son's choice the aging of vital forces that once had seemed incapable of weakness. John Gordon clinched his hand and repressed the words that trembled on his lips. If he spoke, he knew he would say too much. After all, was he his father's judge? Yet if the property owners refused to act what redress, what, hope for the future? It was a horrible commercial system that per mitted, with the municipal authorities' sanction or Indifference, the brutal vio lation of ordinances that were on the statute books, but never executed, spit upon by officers and citizens alike, a mockery to all decent government For a minute father and son faced each other silently- Then John Go:don turned and without another word went away, but as he walked down the steps of the massive stone building his heart wvas sore within :him. "My own father! My own father!" he repeated over and over, and tears dimmed his eyes and sobs choked his throat as he said the words. Nevertheless, with that fixity of pur pose which always ignored private feelings in the face of public duty, he considered his morning task only just begun. He must see Mr. Marsh, and he walked straightway to his office, which was near by. Mr. Marsh had just come, and when John Gordon appeared at the door of' his private office he greeted his visitor heartily, saying as he motioned Gor don to a chair: "Glad to see you. Where have you been lately? Been on the point of dropping you a note ask ing you to come and dine. You and Luella haven't quarreled, have you? Come to thing of it, she's looked rather sober lately." Mr. Marsh was a large, handsome man of fifty-two. ils manner was hearty, his whole bearing confident. with the air of one who has succeeded in every business enterprise he ever undertook. As a man of large wealth, of university training and some degree of culture, of which perhaps lie was unduly conscious, he was reckoned among the solid business men of the city and was always proud to see his ntme used in that co':mection. "Luella has not told you, then?" John Gordon asked in a low tone. "Told mecha? S "She refuses to marry me. "!euses o marry. you" Mr. Marsh spok&einastonishment. "Why-why-why, how is that, Gor don? You are old enough to know your ewn minds." "I thought so, sir," John Gordon re plied almost bitterly, "but Luella thinks otherwise. She will never be my wife." "It's not so serious a break as that?' The older man spoke with great kind ness and came nearer. H1e was really fond of Gordon, and the unexpected news affected him deeply. "Yes. sir. To make a long story short, I asked Luella to go into Hope IIouse as a resident with me. She refused and" "Into Hope House! And you ex pected her to live there with you?" "I certainly asked her to. Whethcr I expected her to or not, I am not quite so certain." "You asked too much!" The words came sharp and incisive, and John Gor don at first shrank back as if from a blow. "You had no right to expect a girl brought up as Luella has been to make such a complete change in her life as such a course would demand. It was unreasonable." "Perhaps it was," replied John Gor don quietly. "Nevertheless I made it, and I" "You hav'e come to ask my inter cession with Luella?- I am sorry, but I don't think I can ever grant it. As I say, your demand is unreasonable. I don't object so much to the reform business I have heard you discuss, but there are extremes I cannot sanction. I would never wish to see my daughter living in such surroundings as those of Hope-House." "I have not come to ask you to make any intercession for me, Mr. Marsh. The matter b'etween Luella and myself has been settled by her own refusal, and I am not going to trouble her or you by any pleading." "Why-why"-- Mr. Marsh seemed unable to frame a sentence that fi'ted the occasion, and John said calmly: "What I came to see you about, Mr. Marsh, is a matter connected with cer tain tenement property on Bowen street, in the Waterside district, near Hope House. -I have been making certain in vestigations there, and in the course of them I find that you own or control tenements Nos. 91 and 07." Mr. Marsh struck a bell on his desk, and when a clerk appeared he asked him to bring a volume from the safe. When it was brought and the clerk had gone out, he turned over the pages un til he came to a certain number. "Ninety-one and 97. That's right. Fronting Bowen street and in the Wa terside district. Well?" ' John Gordon paused a moment. He bad not the remotest inkling as to Mr. Marsh's probable action. His experi ence with his father had given him reason to believe that what Miss An drews had said about the Golden Rule in business was only too true. Besides, if that experience had not come to him there remained the deadening fact of the tenements themselves, which preached powerfully of the landlord's neglect. "These tenements, Mr. Marsh, are simply a disgrace to civilization. I do not like to believe tha: you know the real facts about theta, and I have ome here today to ask you as a man, with a man's feelings and with a man's powers, to heip right some of the dr'eadful wrongs that humanity suffers in those buildings." Mr. Marsh did not move a muscle. There was not a quiver or a change of color on his face to indicate to John Gordon whether he was angry or indif ferent or interested, and the first uestion he asked when John Gordon paused did not reveal to Gordon the man's feelings. "Why don't you go to the board of health and make a complaint?" "Will you go with me, Mr. Marsh? But I don't go there first because you, as the owner of the property, can, if you will, make most of these wrong conditions right. Take, for example, the double decker, the dumbbell tene mentNo. 97. That is simply an in stance of the worst form of tenement building in existence. There is noth ing to compare with it, not even in the cities of the old world. The testimony of as high an authority as Jacob Riis says, 'The committee after looking in vain throughout the slums of the old world cities for something to com pare the double deckers with declared that in their setting the separateness and sacredness of home life were in terfered with and evils bred, physical and moral, that conduce to the corrup tion of the young.' That, this is true must be evident, Mr. Marsh, to any man who knows the construction of these houses. And as owner of one of them you must be more or less fa miliar with their evils, and I. plead with you to help remove them as far as possible." There was a moment of very embar rassing silence, which Mr. Marsh final ly broke by saying: "To be very frank with you, Gordon. [ must tell you I never have seen the ;roperty you describe." "Never saw it! And you are the wner!" "The lots came into my possession just before I went abroad five years igo. My agent was instructed to put up tenements on the lots. The actual work w"as done while I was away. It certainly does not sound v'ery humane or eveni businesslike, but the fact is I have never been down to look after the property. Davis is very prompt with his remittances, .and the tenements ave been good paying investments. From his specifications and plans as he submitted them from the contractor I understood the buildings were sub stantial, and they certainly have proved a source of steady and hand some Income. You say they are called dumbbell tenements or double deck John Gordon sat still, looking at the man in wonderment mingled with in dignation. That a business man with the reputation of Mr. Marsh could ac tually be guilty of such indif~erence and neglect was almost beyond belief. It was not until other events threw light on the subject that Gordon fully understood the shrinking that Mr. Marsh had fr'om contact with any form of human degradation and misery. As John Gordon remained silent Mr. Marsh uttered~a short laugh and said uneasily: "I don't wonder you think it very queer that I have never been down there. 0Of course I have trusted Davis Implicitly. At the same time I have of necessity been ignorant of conditions. You regard them t~s bad?" "Bad! They are simply beyond any desription. It Is useless for me to at tempt it, Mr. Marsh." Gordon spoke with tremendous earnestness, for there was one word that Marsh had dropped that gave him hope. "You said it did not sound very humane to say you had never seen that property. Will you go with me and look at it? I cannot tell you the facts. If I were to give them to you as they are, I am actually afraid you would not believe me. Trem.e mae thousnds of husiness men rors that are congested in and arou Bowen street and Long avenue am High lane. But if you have any hear in you you cannot be unmoved by thl sight down there. In the name of th, sufering babics and little children I beg of you. Mr. Marsh, come with m and see with your own eyes. You los a little child once, Mr. Marsh. I re member Luella telling me, your first born son. In the name of that sacrec memory will you take an interest ir the dying innocent children in youi own tenements?" In his sudden appeal to this long dis tant but never forgotten experienci John Gordon made the one plea tha1 perhaps could have moved Philo Marsi sufficiently to overcon:- his repugnanc< to every form of human su~ering. 1< remained silent a moment; then, lifting his eyes to Gordon, he said gravely: "Very well, I'll go with you. Whet shall we go?" "I will suit my time to your conven ience. I would like to have you not( the conditions by day and night. I car go with you any time." "Say tomorrow afternoon and night then." "Will you take dinner with Miss An draws at Hope House?" John Gordor ventured to say. Mr. Marsh hesitated. "Why, yes, ] will if it is customary." "I know Miss Andrews will welcom< you. Tomorrow at 2, if that will sil you, I will meet you here, and we car inspect the tenements, take dinner at and go out again for a look at night Thank you." John Gordon spoke with quiet bu1 deep satisfaction. He had scored at important point How important h( did not know, but it was a vital be ginning to any influence he might hopc to exert over the property owners. As he started to go out, Mr. Marst spoke slowly: "About Luella? There is no prospec1 of an agreement between you?" "Not any that I can see." "I'm sorry." The words were genu ine, and John Gordon was touched b3 them. "Thank you, Mr. Marsh!" He shoot hands firmly and went out with a teai in his eye, but it was not the same a! that which the interview with his owr father had provoked. a "Thank God: le seems to have z heart, at least!" John Gordon ex claimed as he went down into his Ge henna again. Between 2 and 3 o'clock the next da3 Mr. Marsh and John Gordon were ii Bowen street and standing in front oW the building on lot 01, known as the "dumbbell tenement," which, accord ing to one famous tenement house com mission, "is the one hopeless form 01 tenement construction. It cannot bc well ventilated; it cannot be well light ad; it is not safe in case of fire; direci light is only possible for the rooms a1 front and rear. The middle room! must borrow what light they can fron dark hallways, the shallow shafts and the rear rooms. Their air must pas. through other rooms or tiny shafts, an cannot but be contaminated before il reaches them." (New York tenemeni commission, 1S04.) John Gordon could not help noticing the shrinking manner of Mfr. Marsh The man seemed to be under an influ ence that could not be fear or ever compassion. It was rather a mingling of disgust and physical dread.* "Shall we go in?" John Gordon said looking at his companion curiously. "Walt a moment," cried Marsh. "] want to look at the street." The two men stood still, and the olde3 for the first time in his life saw a sighi that he had never dreamed could er st ~in a civilized city that was at leasi nominally Christian. It' would be impossible to picture Bowc., street by means of a photo. graph. No skill of the photographer or artist could reproduce the scene, and human language is as weak :IS the brush or camera to tell the story. The street swarmed with children. t was-midsummer and the day itself ~was hot, bu't not one of the hottest of the season. There was not a tree g shrub or flower, not a bit of grass, not even a weed to relieve the dull, sicken ing look of sun smitten brick and wood and stone. In front of every other house stood a garbage box, or what had once been one. The majority of these boxes were rotting heaps of boards without covers, overflowing with wet stuff composed of decaying vegetables, the sweepings from the tables of the people and the litter of paper, tin cans and refuse that had'not been disturbed by inspectors 0r garbage wagous for several weeks. There was not a whole piece of side. walk on either side of the street. Pieces of rotting plank stood on end or lay partly over the alleys, in some cases thrust down between the decaying tim bers, sticking above the regular level, a hideous menace, a miserable object lesson, out of hundreds more, of thc mournful fact of municipal incompe "'It is nonc of your business!" tency and debauchery of machine poli ties. Mr. Marsh learned afterward that more than 1,500 suits were pending against the city for serious injuries due to the defective sidewalks and that the sum total of damages claimed ,was more than $22,500,000. (See proceed ings of regular meeting of Chicago city council Jan. 8, 1900.) The children in the street were playing, quarreling, digging in the garbage boxes, in many instances picking bits of decayed lem ons, bananas and oranges out of the gutter. One group of boys was tormenting a miserable cat. Another group was yell ing at a po'lice officer who had just or deed them out of the street, where they had been trying to have a game of ball. Over the steps of the tenement nane soen nthmhheog twu-Fucsignaiea -stoops," women-nuu1 ing s'ck babies or little girls staggerir under the load of a child two or thro years younger filled up the picture < sodden, unkenpt, disheveled, tired o1 humanity that turned that awful stre< into a human hell, where no alleviatii bit of che& or relief was inserted i give one ray of hope for the future. The only buildings in front of whi there were no steps were the saloon These averaged five to a block and oi on each corner. The corner saloor with a few exceptions, also had o tached to them vaudeville halls, wi staring lamp signs, "Free Vaudeville hung out over the entrances. It has been said that no living bei ever successfully described Bowi street so that a person who never sa it could have even the faintest conce tion of its truth. Mr. Marsh had nev seen anything like it, and all his rea ing had never given him any id whatever of the reality. He stared it all now in a bewildered, almo frightened manner that grasped only part of the terrible significance of all. Finally he turned to John Gord< and said with a tone In which irrit tion was the dominant note: "Why don't some of these childrl go over and play in the Hope Hou: playgrounds instead of rolling in th awful filth? I understood you to s that Hope House had a playground." John Gordon looked at Mr. Marsh first with a feeling of indignatio which rapidly changed to one of sa ness. "How many children can play in space shut in and bounded by a lot le than 50 feet wide and 100 feet loni It is crowded to overflowing now. I you know how..many years Miss A drews pleaded and begged and pray( and turned mountains of selfish indi ference and commercial greed to g, that little playground?" "I have no Idea. Hadn't we bett go inside now?" Mr. Marsh replit feebly. "Let's get through with It. had no idea it was all so horrible. course this is unusually bad, isn't it? "There are fifty other streets as b or worse within two miles of Hol House." "Why don't they get new garba4 boxes at least?" Mr. Marsh exclaim In the same irritated manner. He ht begun by being sick at the sight of V fearful conditions. He was now grol Ing angry. "Who do you mean by 'they,' Mi Marsh?" John Gordon said, with son bitterness. "The landlords? The cit ordinance makes it obligatory on tb landlords to furnish and keep in go repair grrbage boxes sufficient in s2 to accommodate the number of fam lies in their tenements." Mr. Marsh looked at the box in fror of his own double decker and sai nothing. It was a rotten apology for what ha once been' a small box. It had on] three sides and no cover. It was fille to overfowing, and crowning the hea of stench was a dead chicken swarmin with maggots. It was a fair sample every other box in Bowen street, am in its loathsome and naked uncleannei it stoed there in the blaze of the pitile! sun a dumb but ghastly and ove whelming witness against the culture indifference of the men who are n< willing to be their brother's keepers long as they can live luxuriously their brother's needs at a distance fro. all suffering and responsibility. They went into the narrow court tha separated the rear from the front< the building, and John Gordon pointe out the deadly nature of the construe tion. "There is no direct sunlight in any< these rooms that open on the cour All light and air must enter eithe where we did or come in from tV top!" He uttered the wvord in time to pri vent Mr. Marsh from stumbling over projection in the shape of a raised pla form built out from the side wal shortening the distance between tI main walls of the court. The use< the platform was, as he afterwar learned, to fgurnish a little addition: room for hanging dut clothes, whic were suspended above the platform C a series of racks. -The floor of the court or passagews between the two wings of the "dum1 bell" was slippery with filth of ever description. In the semidarkness whic prevailed in spite of the sun's glat outside could be seen pale, tired w< men with sallow, dirty faces, peerix out from doorway and window. TI heat was stifling, as not a breath ble in at either end of the passage, and tV odor was overpowering. Mr. Marsh hesitated. "I don't know that I care to go in, he said almoit in a tone of fear. "'Too late to back out now, M Marsh. Come! It will do you good Make you more contented with yot home on the boulevard," John Gordc said grimly. He greeted the group of women the doorway, and they returned h! greeting civilly enough. for he we wearing his regular inspector's badg' authorized by the board of health, at besides all that he had already in tU course of his brief study made frient 'in the block. Almost the first step they took fro. the doorway' plunged them into darl ness. Gordon had hold of Mr. Marsh arm and was silent until they camei the first flight of stairs at the end< the passage. "HIave to be a little careful her< sir," be cautioned. "This Is an o: part, joining your part from the rea: It was on the lot when your age] looked over the space, and he built u to the limit and a little more. In fac he broke six distinct ordinancesi using up the space that ought to ha, been left open between the new bul ing and the old. But that was nothin to him, for it added six feet to ti double decker, and that meant twelv additional bedrooms. Have care heri Somne of the stair treads are broken." Mr. Marsh uttered an ejaculatot and Gordon stopped. "I feel ill. I don't believe I can g on, Gordon. This is terrible. It past belief that human beings can lii in such conditions." "They don't all live, sir. Some them die. But it's almost as bad t die in here as to live. You ought t see a funeral in one of these, tem4 ments." "God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Mars: emphatically. "Honestly, Gordon, may seem absurd to you, but I at growing sick from the awful stenc: here. I doubt my ability to go on." Gordon made no answer. After moment Mr. Marsh said feebly: "All right. I'll try to stand It." Without any reply John Gordon, stil keeping his hand on his companion arm, began to go up the stairs. Unde their feet they could feel the slim: filth thait had accumulated for week: Half way up something passed the:i going down. It was a little girl abou eight years old carrying in her arms baby. In the dim light which filtered through the hall at the top of the fligh th twon.m~a onld hardly make on d- tins ein -o tf T-tnements, ourdn-e [g long years before the time with a hu e man responsibility, robbed of play- I )f ground and childhood and thrust into a t It world of suffering and discomfort. Poor et mournful creature, a woman in gravity ] and a child in years, bending your to dirty face over the gasping little sister I in your slim arms, sitting on the steps 1 h late into the night with the bundle that s. may actually die in your arms, and no ie one but yourself feel much grief if it. S, does. Child of the' tenements, you do I t- not know it, but it is a beautiful world t th that God has made. There are trees t ," and flowers r-nd clear water and per fumed zephyrs and grass dotted with t g bloom. But oh, for you, little sister, S m who shall reveal its beauty, who shall t w discover to you its glory, 0 child of the f p- tenements, in the great city by the er lakes? d- At the top of the stairs John Gordon I, a paused a moment and then turned to d at the left and led his companion along st to a doorway opening on a corridor c a looking out on the airshaft. A railing t it ran around this corridor, and leaning e over it were a number of persons, most- z n ly women, some of them holding ba- I a bies, others doing some kind of work. i One woman at the end of the corridor 4 n was preparing some dish for supper. i se The stench that rose from the court < is below was made doubly intolerable by LY the smoke from the chimneys of the rear tenements on the adjoining. lot, It which drifted into the corridor and ne swept into every doorway. 1- "Good afternoon, Mrs. Caylor. How t is the little boy today?" a "Poorly, sir. Will you go In and see ss him?" Then she glanced suspiciously at Mr. Marsh and added: "But you 0 can't do anything for him. Better I - leave him be." C d "This is Mr. Marsh, Mrs. Caylor. -He s - is the owner of the building. He'wants t at to see some of the rooms. We can go t 2 The woman's face lighted up just d for a second, then all died out to that E I dull indifference which has long ago lost all hope of anything better farther i on. "I don't care," she answered with e sullen indifference. John G3ordon at once turned Into the t e room, and Mr. Marsh reluctantly fol lowed. There w'ere, two windows, but d both opened on the corridor.' Gordon s ie walked across. to an opening and 1 -7 turned to beckon to Mr. Marsh, who. t . had stopped. r- "I want you to see a specimen of a e dark bedroom, Mr. Marsh. You don't Y need to visit more than one. But it is .e worth knowing that there are hun d dreds more like this one." ;e Mr. Marsh came across to Gordon's I- side. - "This is more terrible than I ever it dreamed," he said In a whisper. d "Nothing when you get used to it, ! sir. Let's step in. There isn't much to d see." y They entered the room, which was d absolutely dark except for the light P that entered through the room they g had just left Gordon felt his way un >f til his hand touched something, and d then he said gently: ;s "Loule, how are you today?" is "Not very well. That you, Mr. Gor r- don?' d "Yes. I've brought you something. >t Here. Catch on, little man." ;o "It's fine!" the thin eager voice ex nl rlaimed. "Don't tell mother. She'll n take It away." "No, no, Loule. She won't The doc- ~ it or will let you have it," John Gordon >f said reassuringly, and then he was si d lent Mr. Marsh was close by, and ~ Sboth men stood still a moment In the stillness a distinct rustling f sound could be heard. It was like the t rustling of tissue paper or the scratch- ' ir lng of small mice.I Le "What's that?" Mr. Marsh asked. t "Wait a minute; i'll show you," Gor- 3 - don answered quietly. "Shut your a eyes, Louis. I'm going to light a s t- match." , He struck the match and held It up. I e The pale light revealed in the few t > seconds that the match burned a bro- S d ken bedstead and- a ragged, filthy mat- r i tress on which lay. a child about ten I i years old. The wails of the room had ? n once been papered before the double C decker had been . constructed so that I y some of it had blocked up the 'win- o - dows that had once opened on the rear t y lot This paper now hung In festoons I h and strings all over the ceiling, and I -e Mr. Marsh, looking in horror at the 3 sight, in that brief moment, not too a g brief to tell one whole- story of the -t te tenement house hell, saw countless d W swarms of bugs and vermin crawling a te over the paper. It was that that had 3 made the noise. - The match flickered and went out t " There was a moment of silence, broken a by Gordon, who said cheerfully: r. "All right, Louis! Keep up good a L heart. I'll try to get in and see you . ir tomorrow." n "Thank you, Mr. Gordon." 1Mr. Marsh pulled at Gordon's arm. n "For God's sake, Gordon, let's get r is out of here. I'm growing sick. I shall .s faint." e, "Come out into the fresh air!" Gor- g d don said ironically. a They went out into the corridor, and .y ls Mr. Marsh in his eagerness to get out of the building did, not even stop to 3 reply to several of the women who had e :- learned from Mrs. Caylor that he t ' owned the double decker and crowded : up to complain about the garbage boxes t >f and the drainpipes. While Gordon g was talking with Mrs. Caylor about g e, Louis, Mr. Marsh went down, hurried b d as fast as he dared through the lower r r. court, and when John Gordon came out it he found him seated on the outer steps, y p deathly pale and actually sick. t, Gordon grimly eyed him. n "It's only 4 o'clock. We'll have time e 'e to do the other. There are some fea I- tures of No. 07 that .are peculiar. I a would like to have you see them." e "I cannot go, Gordon. It's out of the 'e question. I am too ill."a . "Let's go over to Hope House, then,"a John Gordon said gravely, a 1, Mr. Marsh, with difficulty, walked over to Hope House. On the way Gor-c 0 don said: s "There is an ofdinance which says e thai there shall be spaces between h front and rear tenements, graduated h according to the height of the building. If the tenement is one story high, there t< must be ten feet between front and ~ rear; if two stories, fifteen feet; If four stories, twenty-five feet, etc. Your I agent deliberately ignored this law .t and built your double decker so as to y a cover all the space. In doing so he a deliberately established a condition e that permitted of no light In a dozen a bedrooms like the one we went Into. More than that, he created conditions that breed anarchy, for if the rich and I cultured citizens of this mimicipality tl 5 for their own gain selfishly trample on r the laws of the city what can they ex- t ' pect from the poor and the desperate is . and the Ignorant but hatred of all so- s a cietyy' n t "i'm too sick to discuss It," Mr. b Marsh groaned. Gordon saw that he I was actually suffering severely, and u t when they entered Hope House he b It- was only a temporary 1d11 I ion, however, and after resting an tour Mr. Marsh recovered o sit up and expressed some O ation at the way. he had behaved. ut his manner was very grave, and he experience of his visit to the build ag was evidently making a profound mpression on him To Gordon's disappointment, Miss An rews had been called away and was tot present at the evening meal. Mr. Tarsh was able to be at the table with he residents and was a close listener D the talk, although he said little. "Do you fell equal to a little work bis evening, Mr. Marsh?" Gordon sked after the residents had adjourned > the library and had begun to scatter )r their several duties. "I think -so; yes," Mr. Marsh an ered. He was really ashamed of his iability to endure unusual sights of isagreeable human suffering. "Then perhaps we had better visit ne of the vaudeville halls. I want you D see how the saloon, as a politeal i titution, comes in to supplement the .bsence of home life. Perhaps'it will Lelp you to understand better, If you rant to, why the tenement house con itions are not interfered with and rhy it is to the interest of the politi !an that the people suffer as far as ndurance will go in the matter of no tomes." At 9 o'clock, in company with an offi er in citizen's clothes who was de ailed to look after Hope Hoise dis rict, Gordon and Marsh entered oneof he vaudeville halls joining a corner aloon on Bowen street Mr. Marsh vas unusually excited. His universit raining, his exclusive, refined cultur as sensitive habits, were all the exact pposite of everything he had felt and een since -he entered Hope House dis ret. He went In with Gordon, and ey took seats in the rear of the.saW. ust covered floor in a hall that would old 200 persons. They faced a.gaudily ainted curtain, which let down. - ront of a small stage. The hall rapid 7 filled up with men and boys: The. ir was heavy with the fines-of beer.<7 nd tobacco. The night Was sultiyand t the saloon bar, which was brough the doorway opening Into the all, could be seen a long line of men nd women drinking, while others tod behifd the line reachingth'eir Ands over for glasses or waiting their arn to get up to the bar itself. Three violins, a harp and a pino be an to play, and the curtain went up. !t that very moment in Christian tomes all over America good. women' neeled at clean beds by the side re hearted.little children to .epeat. he evening prayer to the good7God. C z ut will the time speedily cormewen ittle voices shall swelle thund he good God's wrath against aninsti ution that carries into homeless des rts of the great cities the plague teath, the foul touch of lost virtue'fo he gake of gold? - [TO BE CONTINUED]. THE MISSING FOWL tn Experience With an minded Englsh Artist. Wills invited me to dinner one af oon when I met him in the Stra. cepted, reminding him ithat as ras absentminded he had-betteek= . note of the evening. As e-bd. -T aper in his pocket he wrote'the dae, n his shirt cuff. When the appointe vening arrived I went to his studO2 ould see that he hadfogte l<$ bout the appointment "Aho~e w," he exclaimed, "do not beto tad on me. The cuff went to the - rash, and-the date with it .But:.there a fowl in -the pot boiling here,")con inued Mr. Winls. -".Tust come Inin d .,~ rait a few minutes." I had my misgivings, but ide and sat down upon the only dli .t crowded with paint, brushes aid d alettes. After waiting for about ' wenty minutes, feeling deucedly hun ry, I groaned. This had the effect of emindng Wills that I was present [e exclaimed in a dreamy voice, "The. owl must be boiled by this time,"*nd ming forward he lifted the lid of th'e ot and peered inside. ."It is - ery dd," he remarked, "but I cannot see e fowl. Extraorrlinary!'No one. has een here, so the bird cannot have en stolen." . a Well, the long and short of it is that week or two later I called again at e studio, noticed a peculiar odor and iscovered the old fowl wrapped up in piece of brown paper. "Ah!" said Vills, "now I know how it 'sil hap ene. When the fowl was brough~t in here came a smart visitor-Bady G.-. bout sittings for her portrait I zvust ave thrown the fowl behind a canvas. nd forgotten all about it- But now, d fellow, do shut up!"-L~ondon Miail. . The Parsee. The Parsee, untrnameled by his sur undings, is seen in Bombay In all his realth of height and dress. The men re, without - exception, tall, finely rmed and stately and-possess a ro ustness and beauty quite at contrast - ritj' their Hindoo neighbors. - - heir street costume is a pecular -. mg white cotton gown, wide trousers ethe same'material and color and a u1 miter shaped hat They have a eneral reputation for sobriety, frugali and sagacity, and they seem to oroughly understand the accumula on of fortunes, in this respect resem-: ing the Hebrews. The wealthiest ~sidents of Bombay are Parsees. Thbere Cabras Are Held to Be Sard The Hindoos on account of their su erstition are very loath to destroy a >bra. It appears prominently in their tythology, and it is venerated both as symbol of a malicious and destruc e power and also a beneficent one. - ceording to Mr. A. K~. Forbes, cobras - e looked upon as guardian angels, ad there is a Bengalese tradition that male inf~ant auspiciously shaded by a tbra will come to the throne. Hard Work. Mrs. A.-I'm surprised that yoiur nsband earns so little If he works as ard as you say. What does he do? Mrs. B.-The last thing he did was calculate how many times a clock ced in the course of 1,000 years. Eas5y to Meet. "Have you any trouble in meeting aur creditors, old chap?' "No difficulty whatever. I meet 'em rerywhere, old boy." A Wet UmnbrelA. Never leave an umbrella standing on e point in the ordinary way when et. The water trickles down, spoiling te silk and making the wires rusty. It also a mistake to open it and leav'e It unding, as this stretches the silk, taking it baggy so that It is impossi te to fold it smoothly. The proper ny is to shake out as much of the -ater as possible, then stand the um ..la on its handl1e to drain. ^-~