Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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N . ..i, .. - ************ ‘Ihe «> REFORMER By CHARLES M. SHELDON, Arihsr o/^tilfc Ste^s." “Bobert Hardy’s Seven Days,” Etc. OupyriQhU 1901, bll CharU* M. SheliUm -<S> <*>- ************************ CHAPTER IX. ♦ to "What riylit have vou to talk to me sot" ARTII to earth, ash es to ashes, dust to dust,” said Paul Falmouth as be stood by the ^rave of Rufus Gordon. “Here to await the general resurrection in the last day and the appearing of the Lord Jesus Christ.” John Gordon, with his sister and their aunt, Mrs. Hester Wayland, Ru fus Gordon’s only sister, stood on the other side of the grave. Mary was heavily dressed in mourning and clung to John Gordon’s arm sobbing. Fal mouth offered a brief prayer, pro nounced the benediction and then came around to the three and shook hands silently. The crowd of acquaintances Jiat had known the distinguished tinan- cier departed, discussing as they went the future of the business involved by the death, and its relation to the son, who was a stranger to most of the men In the city, except as they had read of his eccentric career at Hope House. “Strange how a man of Gordon’s ex act methods can neglect such a thing. I remember now there was Judge Lewis of the circuit court neglected,” etc. “Gordon isn’t the first man to put off attending to a matter of that sort. I suppose the estate goes in absence of a will to his son?” one of the visiting friends of the broker questioned. “Yes, and the sou Is a crank, I’m told; been living In the slums for a fad.” The speaker got into his auto mobile, and he and his friends were soon speeding toward the city at the rate of thirty miles an hour. Gor don’s fad was a slum. The broker’s fad was a racing machine. There are fads and fads. “I think I cquld give a guess at Gor don’s failure to make a will,” quietly remarked another financier, who had been present at the funeral. His companion gave him a question ing look. “He didn’t have much of anything to will,” was the answer. “How’s that?” The exclamation ex pressed great surprise. “Gordon was one of the solid men of the city.” “It may be. But, mark my prophecy, the old man lost his cunning along to ward the last. Those who watched him closest saw signs of breaking down in him more than a year ago. He went too heavily into L. and D. stock. Conway’s deal last spring turned out bad for Gordon. No on* knows how hard he was bit at the time, but—you watch developments. If the son gets the house and lots out of what’s left, he will do well.” “He was not”— “The old man was strictly honorable In his relation to all trusts. All h* lost was his own, so far as that goes. But I am much mistaken if he did not lose just about everything.” During the week that followed Rufus Gordon’s affairs gradually became common material for gossip on the street. Ten days after the body of the “wealthy banker” had been put in the ground the business world knew that, with the exception of his home and a small annuity belonging to his daughter, the wealth of Rufus Gordon had vanished, dissipated in that kind of speculation which borders on gam bling so closely that the most conscien tious. business men cannot always de cide where legitimate business ends and the gambler’s luck begins. Down at Hope House Paul Falmouth, who had come in to consult with Miss Andrews about some work bis people had volunteered for her, was talking over John Gordon’s affairs when he came into the library. Miss Andrews was called out, and the two men were left together. Since Barton’s death uoraon nad felt drawn toward Fal mouth. There was something very wholesome and helpful about the man when one came to know the real man beneath the scholarly, refined, deeply sensitive nature. “Then your father’s death will really make little difference with your fu ture?” "Very little if any,” Gordon answered gravely. “Mary la going abroad for a year with Aunt Hester. Poor Mary! She is just about broken down with all that has happened.” “Then you will keep on here?' “Yes. There is nothing else for me to do. Father’s business passes into the receiver’s hands. Practically all he had, or all we supposed he had, is gone. Aunt Hester will take Mary into her home when they return.” Falmouth was silent a moment. Then he leaned over and put a hand on John Gordon’s arm. “Do you know I have had a great temptation of late, especi since the fire”—lie was looking out of the win dow—“to give up my parish and come down here with you?” Gordon’s face lighted up. “That would be a great thing for us! But”— “But a ‘cowardly thing for you to do!’ You ,;re right,” Falmouth said quietly. “Why should I run away from the hard work where 1 am? And yet, Gordon, no man knows, unless he has been in the ministry, the enormous de mands on the profession. I am not speaking in boastfulness or complaint when I say that no profession requires such constant and varied exercise of all | the power of manhood. Do you won der. Gordon, that the ministry some times grows discouraged as it faces a labor that in the nature of the case can never be completed in any sense and has the vision of an ideal that no church or parish ever yet realized? And then of late I am haunted by a doubt as to the value of a great deal that I am doing. It is not the hard work I am beginning to dread; it is the fear that it is wasted power and that the organized church of today ought to be changing much of its prac tice in order to do what Christ wants done.” “Would you mind telling me some thing in detail what you mean? Give me a page out of your day’s work.” Gordon asked with genuine interest. Falmouth was going through a crisis in his church life, and Gordon was be ginning to have more than a very strong personal feeling for him.. “It will be talking shop.” Falmouth smiled sadly and hesitated. “That’s pardonable between friends,” Gordon answered, with a look that showed the minister a little further into his affectionate nature. “Well—you understand all right,” with an air of relief. “Take yesterday as an example. The morning started off with a miscellaneous correspond ence that took about fifty minutes. Then I worked on my Sunday morning sermon for an hour. At the end of that time I had to leave the study to hunt up a boy whose mother wrote me about his being sick at a boarding house on Ross street. I had to go in the morning because of engagements that filled every minute of my afternoons for the next two weeks. I found the young fellow in desperate condition, brought about by his own sin. It was a case that could not be turned over to others. I shall feel obliged to go and see him often, in order to meet the ap peal of that mother. Back to my study in time to write a little on an ad dress for next meeting of our local as sociation. Home to dinner. Funeral at - o’clock. The place happened to be quite near the church, and 1 was not asked to go out to the cemetery. The people were strangers to me and were in great trouble. Went back to the study to get word to our visiting com mittee to see this family as soon a* possible. By the time that was done I started for the county hospital on Burke street to visit one of my church members, very seriously ill there. At 5 o’clock 1 was back at the church, where a committee of my Endeavor so ciety had a special meeting to revise their constitution and to plan for the winter's campaign, and wanted my presence and advice. Owing to the failure of part of the committee to be prompt it was 6:30 before I left the church. “After supper I had a wedding over on Park avenue. Mrs. Falmouth was unable to go with me on account of the illness of one of our boys. When: I left the wedding party, it was 9 o’clock. As I was getting into the car riage to go home a messenger boy' brought a message asking me to call at the hospital, as my parishioner was in a critical condition and might die before morning. I went at once and stayed until midnight, when the pa tient’s condition grew better, and I left for home. When I reached home, I found my wife sitting up with the boy, who had become quite sick. I sent her to bed and stayed up with the child until he was better. Early this morn ing I was sent for by the family at whose place the funeral was held, ask ing me to call this morning, as one of the members of the family vas in a se rious condition. I culled, and when I got to my study it was after 10 o’clock. It is Wednesday, and only a part of my next Sunday morning sermon la completed. I have not even selected a text for the evening sermon. The sub ject of my prayer meeting is‘Best Meth ods of Modern Bible Study.’ I have part ly prepared the service. I have three committee meetings tomorrow after noon and an address in the evening on the ‘Duty of Good Citizens In the Com ing Municipal Campaign.’ This la be fore the mass meeting arranged by the committee of fifty. There are five or six families in my parish in great need of my personal visitation, and two deaths occurred yesterday, which means funeral services tomorrow. My assistant has been on the sick list for nearly a month, and the church, of course, cannot well supply his place, although volunteers are doing some of his work. I am not complaining, Gor don. 1 have some of the best men and women in the city in my church mem bership. They are loyal and true, and any man might well be proud of their friendship. “1 am not complaining either about the bewildering number of calls on my time and sympathy from strangers and people entirely outside of my parish. It is a compliment to the ministry that the un-Christian part of the community turns to the church and the preacher for comfort and help. All these things I accepted when I entered the profes sion. I would be a fool to act the baby now that heavy burdens of trouble in other people’s lives are rolled upon me. It is all a part of the profession which I deliberately chose. A doctor might as well complain that his work brings him face to face all the time with physical pain as the minister complain that his work brings him constantly into the presence of sin sickness and spiritual ruin. This is what every true ministry means and always will mean, and the man who wants to shirk all that bad better never enter the busi ness of preacher and pastor. But the doubt that lately has begun to torment me is the doubt that all this that I am doing In and through the church is worth while doing through that organ ization. My ideals are constantly disap pointed. With the exception of the minority that can be found in almost every church 1 am obliged to confess that my views of the real w T ork a church ought to do are not accepted by my people, and I am going on with the pressure on me of all this miscellane ous machinery of service, tormented with the question, Is the church, after all, the best organization for doing work for humanity, or is the church even approximately doing the things that most need to be done? It is not the service that I shrink from. I am only filled with a great longing to serve in the place where it will amount to something.!’ “You are tired out.” John Gordon laid his hand affectionately on Paul Falmouth’s arm. He did not know just what else to say. His thought of the church hud coincided too closely with the minister's to enable him to come to the defense of the church as it seemed to need defense in the face of Falmouth’s doubts. The minister smiled at Gordon rather sadly. “I may be tired at present, but that does not account for my present posi tion. Don’t let it vex you,” he added quickly. “I ought not to have deliv ered my little woe here. This house is the center of its own peculiar sorrows. God forbid that I should introduce into it my own selfish egotism or even my personal struggles for light in my ow T n darkness.” “Always room for one more, I am sure,” Gordon protested, but Falmouth shook his head and refused to continue the discussion. He had risen to go when Miss Andrews entered with a glow on her face that struck both men as a new look. “Read that!” she said, putting a let ter into Gordon’s hand. The letter was from Mrs. George Ef fingham. My Dear Miss Andrews—Pardon my de lay In answering your beautiful letter. My grandson has been very ill, and the care of him has confined me constantly at his bedside. I am not quite as young as I used to be and begin to feel the weight of my years on my body, though my soul is still fresh and vigorous, thank God. So poor Mr. Barton has passed on. I shall enjoy having time enough to make his acquaintance over there. He was a brave and noble soul and la now enjoy ing his reward. I do not know that you were at all acquainted with him, of course, but It was, as you know, through his correspondence that I first was influ enced to think of your particular work as a worthy place Into which a little money might go for humanity’s sake. In one sense, therefore, he is the real donor of whatever seems to come from me. On condition that my name is not used anywhere on any buildings that may be erected and also on condition that the pa pers do not get hold of the matter and ask for my photograph, with a biograph ical sketch, I would like to give (100,000 to Hope House to use in any way you and your workers think best. When you have used that up. I will give another hundred thousand to be spent In the same or In any other manner you may decide. Now, my dear friend, don’t draw up any resolutions of thanks. Just simply cash the check I have today deposited with the Bank of Commerce and use it as quick as you can to help those poor little children. I don’t see, myself, what you can do to better or brighten their lives very much. You said in your letter to me that the tenement house conditions themselves were getting worse all the time. If you put in parks and playgrounds, it will only help the situation in the way of relieving misery. It won’t remove the cause of misery, will it? But the Lord knows that in this world of all kinds of trouble we fero to do the best we can under condi tions as they are and hope some time to get deep enough down to humanity's sin and suffering so as to reach the real cause* of human trouble and remove them. When we get to that place, I am con vinced we shall simply find that God and man have got to work together like good friends to bring about results. With the best of wishes to you in your noble work and with prayers that those children may have some good times to make up for all they suffer, I am heartily your friend, MRS. CAPT. GEORGE EFFINGHAM. John Gordon had read the letter aloud so that Falmouth could hear, aa Miss Andrew* said she wanted him to know the good news. When Gordon finiabed, Falmouth exclaimed: “Well, If that isn’t a tonic to restore one’a faith in humanity! Two hundred thou sand dollars! Why, Miss Andrews, you can work miracles with all that money!” "I could use a million without touch ing much more than the edge of all this misery,” she said quickly, and then added with a self accusing tone: “God forgive me! What am I saying? This great gift from this old lady will sav* hundreds—yes, thousands—oHives. We can work miracles with it. We can <16 wonders, Mr. Gordon.” She was trembling with unumal Emo tion. It Is nothing to be wondering about, good men and women in the cities. This great soul is beginning to see some gleam of light piercing the heavy blackness of childhood. Her soul is straining at the thought of the lessening of even some small degree of pain and anguish, as they have smitten her those many, many dreary years. “It's like a story,” Gordon said, while his eye gleamed and his figure tingled with the excitement of the news. “The first time I saw the old lady I had a dim idea that she was not real, but a sort of incarnation of some character in a novel that was too good to be sim ple fiction. After reading her letters I am sure my theory is true.” “Then maybe the check she mentions as being in the bank is fiction, too,” Falmouth suggested. “And the next thing you know the old lady will van ish, and you will have to hunt for her in the pages of some colonial romance to which she has returned.” “Heaven forbid!” Gordon answered gravely, as if he actually feared it might be true. Miss Andrews smiled. “I was in the Bank of Commerce this morning and was informed of the deposit there. So whether Mrs. Captain George Effing ham is real or not, her check is certi fied as good for the amount.” She laughed at the look qf actual relief in John Gordon’s face. “It seems too good to be true,” Gor don said, returning the laugh. “If I were an author, I would put the old lady into a book, if she has not already been immortalized. But you cannot persuade me that she is just ordinary flesh and blood.” Before night every one in Hope House knew of the great gift of $200,- ooo to the settlement. The little group of residents at the supper table was in a fine state of excitement. Plans wen* discussed for redemption of sur roundings that would have shamed the wildest tail's of Aladdin and the slaves of the magic lamp. Miss Andrews, seated at the head of the table, looked ten years younger. One of the young women spoke of it to John Gordon. “Do you notice how handsome Miss Andrews looks tonight? She must have been a remarkably striking wom an ten years ago.” “Not more so than now, do you think?” Gordon did not intend that the head of the house should hear, and supposed that the noise of general conversation at table had made It im possible for her to catch either the question or the answer. But a faint color appeared in Miss Andrews’ cheeks as she turned to the young wo man and said, with a laugh, “When I was as young as you, my dear Miss Hammond, I assure you I was quite noted for my good looks.” “We all think you have renewed your youth, Miss Andrews,” Gordon spoke, and Ford led off a pleasant ripple of applause by saying ‘TIoar! Hear!” “Thank you all.” The head of the house seemed genuinely embarrassed and looked more interesting than ever on account of it. “At this rate an other $100,000 gift would put me back in my teens.” Slit* spoke lightly, and her blue eyes filled with wonderful light, so beautiful iu its expression of joy over the new opportunity to help suffering humanity that the whole company was affected by it, and for the first time since com ing to Hope House John Gordou was asking himself whether Miss Andrews had ever had a romance iu her life. The question went without an an swer; indeed it was not much more than a vague suggestion prompted by Miss Andrews’ appearance during the evening of that eventful day, and the next moment Gordou was busy talk ing over the innumerable plans and projects eagerly discussed at the table for using to best advantage the won derful gift from the old sea captain’s widow. “It all comes back to parks and play grounds,” was Miss Andrews’ sum ming up when they had all had their say about the disposal of the money. “My heart has ached long enbugb at the sight of childhood’s misery. We can lessen it* duration even If we can not remove its cause. I know some of you people have got model tenements on the brain. That’s all right and good enough, but It’s not the end and aim of our work entirely. Let us give starved nature a chance at nature Itself. The first hundred thousand for breathing spaces, flowers, water, grass, trees; the next for buildings, additions to Hope House—what you will.” So the next day Gordon and Ford, with Miss Andrews and Miss Ham mond, who, next to Miss Andrews, had been the longest at Hope House, sat down to make a definite and positive plan for the transformation of the burned out district Into ffu oasis for the desert of Bowen street that still swarmed with wretched and desperate humanity. £ This story will be continued in next Friday’s issue of The Ledger. Makes a Clean Sweep. There’s nothing like doing a thing thoroughly. Of all the Salves you ever heard of, Bucklen’s Arnica Salve is the best. It sweeps away and cures Burns, Sores, Bruises, Cuts, Boils, Ulcers, Skin Eruptions and Files. It’s only 25o., and guaranteed to give satisfaction by Cherokee Drug Co. An automobile in band is worth two on the rush. Pneumonia Is Kobbed of Its Terrors by Foley’s Honey and Tar. It stops the racking cough and heals and strengthens the lungs. If taken in time it will prevent an attack of pneamonU. Refuse substitutes. Sold by Cherckee Drug Co. A revolution has broke out Iu Uru- gn*7- The Great Spring Remedy. After the rigors of winter are felt you are liable to feel the need *f a tonic, laxative and BLOOD PURIFIER. YOU WANT THE BEST OF COURSE; THAT IS f RHEUMACIDE. This medicine is scientifically compounded from the extracts of roots, herbs and barks, combined with certain other purifying and alterative products. A sure cure for Rheumatism, Indigestion, Constipation, Boils, Kidney Troubles, and all diseases arising from impurities in the blood. Ask yowr drw«Ktsta for RHEUMACIDE and Insist on getting it. Beware of substitutes of doubtful value. All Druggists, or express prepaid. Bobbitt Chemical Co., . . Baltimore, fid., U. 5. A. F^For sale by the Cherokee Drug Company. fW on Time Deposits. Apply by letterior in person to the " ' ■ & Planters Bank, OA ir I-IN ICY, S. C. Capital and Profits $58,500. A. N. Wood, President, R. R. Brown, jVice-Prest., C. M. Smith, Cashier. Come and be Convinced that you can save money by buying your Plows,^Plow Stocks, Hoes, Wheelbarrows, Shovels, Picks and’Cot- ton Planters of us. Agents for the Caldwell [Cotton Planter—drops seed in hill 8, 12, 16, 24, 32, 48’and 64 inches; plants peas and corn perfectly. Smith Hardware Co. 4 “Money Saved is Money Made” I can save you money on anything in the various Hues I handle. You^should see my “Superb” line of Clothing two and three piece suits. Pretty line of Straw and Fur Hats just received for Men, Youths and Children. I am still headquar ters for all kinds of Footwear—see me when in need of Shoes of any kind. I have just opened up a beautiful lot of Negligee Shirts from 50c to .$i. Nice assortment of Lawns, Organdies, Piques, Madras Cloths, Batiste, etc. My stock of Heavy and Fancy Groceries is selected with great care and I can save you money in this line. 1 carry a big line of Tobacco from 26c lb. up. Teimetssee Ss^orglmm. I have it in 5 and 10 gallon kegs and in half brls. and brls. at prices that move it out. I handle everything for the farm or farmer, such as Plows, Plow Stocks, ilames, Traces, Collars, Bridles, Wagon and Buggy Harness, Etc. While it is too wet to plow come and let me get up that bill of farming tools and also load your wagon with some of my brands of Fertilizer which you must have. I handle only the best grades and guarantee prices. See me before buying. Respectfully, J. I. | Watch the Packages and you will see where the Shoes come from. They are coming our way. ‘The best goods to be had for the money” is our motto. :: :: :: The R. S. Lipscomb Shoe Co Next door to Cherokee Drug Co. Commercial Printing Of every description executed with neatness and dispatch at Thk Ledger office, Gaffney, S. C. New Type, ]Jew Presses, the finest quality of Ink and Paper, and Compe tent Workmen. Send us your orders.