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By HARES M. SHEL00N
Author of "In iis Steps," -Robert flardy's Se
Copytr,1, bi ChIarkcs M. $
11 77c stnuk the iatch and
ISS ANDREWS had
come into the room
and up to the table
before John Gordon
raised his head.
"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
"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"
"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
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
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
,en Days," Etc.
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
"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
"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
"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
"Have you ever been there? Have
you ever looked at the misery with your
"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
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.
S "She refuses to marry me.
"!euses o marry. you" Mr. Marsh
"Why-why-why, how is that, Gor
don? You are old enough to know your
"I thought so, sir," John Gordon re
plied almost bitterly, "but Luella
thinks otherwise. She will never be
"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
"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
"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
"Perhaps it was," replied John Gor
don quietly. "Nevertheless I made it,
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
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
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
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
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
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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
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
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<
"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
"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
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
"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
- "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
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
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
, 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 .
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
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
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.
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. ^-~