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4 - ' * ^ : ISSUE^SEMI-mEHI^^ _ _ L. H. GRIST & sous, Publishers.} % Tamils gtirspptr: jfor the promotion of tho political, gonial, Sjrifttlturat, and gotntnerLciaI Interests of the people. {m*^7BM02oApi"^?lcCTgf''c'' ESTABLISHED 18557 YORKVILLE, S. C., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13, 19Q2. MO. 100. |^| A ^ ^-| ^| |^| |^| |^| ^ |^| |' yyyyipi|iy>jt <{M^? *<>}??{? ?|? ?j? <5? ?j? ?j I <7fe IREFORME If By CHARLES M. SHELDON. TT Author of "b His Steps.*" "Robert Hardy's Seven I tii :?|mL CopvrlghL, 1901, bv Charles if. Shclck Imwtmmmmmmt STNOPSIS OP PRECEDING CHAPTER. S John Gordon, heir to riches, refuses r a position in his father's bank and jj leaves home, father and sister to work for the people of the slums. Sordid money getting and a life of frivolity b are revolting to him. ~ _ 1] I' ' Vf/fl A lllv' re you qulte sure *v ^?U un(^r8tnn(* ^ ly, but his look did i not betray any anxiety yet. He had '] been talking to Luella Marsh for several minutes. His face also was grave, t almost solemnly 60, but there was a growing expression of uneasiness upon it as she turned her head toward her lover. "1 think so?yes," she said slowly. "In other words, you mean no." said John Gordon, smiling slowly. Luella Marsh returned the smile and then became instantly grave again. "1 would like to ask you a few more g questions. May I?" t "Of course." r "Then I don't know that I am quite clear in my mind as to your exact rea- ^ sons for leaving your own home. Will e you try to make me understand thatV" c "Luella"- He paused, and for the n first time a fear grew upon him that f he was going to fail to make her un- v dnrxfnrul the real crisis in his life. c Was this the attitude of the woman c who could prove to be the companion c lie would need? Would she hesitate s and demand nil these proofs and rea- c sous, all these explanations? And yet 0 he felt the need of her. She had thus v far satisfied liiiu. and as he faced her f now there was only one prayer in his heart, and that was that she would p finally cast in her lot with his and say: j "Where thou goest I will go. Thy peo- t pie shall be my people and thy God a my God." I He began his explanation while Lu r ella leaned her chin on her band and e watched him with deepening seriousness. o "I am thirty years old. From the s time of my birth I have been used to r every luxury. I have enjoyed all the elegant comforts of a rich, exclusive, y proud family. My fathers ambition, p as you kuow, has always been the am- ( bit ion of a man who has lived a life li as remote from the common people as a if he had been born in some other /. world. I have grown up In this at- v mosphere. I have known as little of the people and their real life as my <] father. Up to the time of my religious o experience I cared as little for the peo- c pie as I knew about them. Since that v experience my whole object In living L has changed. I find myself longing to r know the people as much as I already i li love them. It is not enough that I | p love them at a distance. I must know L from close personal experience their e dally life. As near as possible I must t partake of their sorrows, their prlva- 1 tions, their misery. Do not answer 1< me yet." John Gordon eagerly re- I strained a movement 011 Luella's part a to interrupt with a word. "Why should a I not do this. I who have all my life I tasted the luxury of soft and easy i physical living? There is only one I thing for me to do if I accomplish my e life's ambition now, and that Is to e leave the surroundings that are so 1 completely opposed to all the life of t the people I have come to love In order 'J that I may know, if possible, as well t as love, with intelligent power to help." t "And you ask me to leave my home as you leave yours?" > She did not look at him while asking t the question, but in the silence that ^ followed before he replied she turned ^ her face full toward him. Ills answer 1 came very calmly, but his voice in 1 spite of him trembled a little. 1 "The woman who becomes my wife 1 will make her home with me. We shall J share alike whatever the future con- t tains." f It was perhaps at this moment that 1 Luclla Marsh had her first glimpse ' into John Gordon's real character. She ' had never given him credit for much 1 Imagination or poetic feeling. In real- 1 Ity he had a great deal of both. But ' ? ^ $) O 4?4? < " ? M ? ? ? ? ? M ? >n <y <y 4 ? ? ?*f ***A A A A A A A 4, AAA A. Hit [. ! 'I' * * ?* 'I' > ? he did not change "her position of set ~*.mm M 4-1% ' !? 1 % +*.* *% Ci? A ATI 1 t* fllnnA/1 I IUU8 UJIIl'Aa. one \JlliJ IU11ICU icr head a little as she said: "Where do you intend to make your ionic? Will you tell me in detail?" "I have not fully decided; probably a Hope House." "And you expect me to live with you here?" "If you marry me, yes." John Gor[on spoke with effort. Ills fear had ;rown with every word she uttered, vitli every new question she put to lilU. "I will never"? she began and rose o her feet. Gordon rose instantly. "Wait a moment!" She sat down and aotioned him to be seated. "Wait! I rant to think awhile." She put her hands over her face, and olin Gordon watched and waited. His leart was hungry for her love, but his oul trembled for what he thought was o be her decision. As the minutes rent by and she still made no motion lis conviction deepened that Ills knowldge of her character und motives was uperiicial. All that he really knew ras to some degree the strength of her ersonality. He knew she could not be aoved by pleading. If she would not o with him out of a love that pleaded ts own cause, John Gordon knew that io other motive would prevail. When she finally lifted her head, she ut her hands behind her and looked ull and frank into his face. But what lie said surprised him at first until he aw its bearing on her final answer. "You used the word 'people' a good uany times in what you said about our reasous for leaving your father's louse. Tell me what you mean by it." "By the word?" He was doubtful as o her meaning. "Yes. just what do you mean by sayng you are moved by a love for the people.'" "1 mean the masses, the multitudes, he people, the humanity that works vith its hands for a living, the humanty that toils at the furnace and the oom and the maehine, the humanity hat lives on days' wages and lives to iroduce the things that give persons ike you and me pleasure, the things ve say we must have for our luxurious astes. Luella!" John Gordon spoke or the first time with the same pasion he had used in the interview with lis father, a passion that sounded the lew note of his redeemed manhood. "What have we known or cared for mmanity? Our days have been wast a in seinsn ana roonsn gratincuuou if the souses, while these, our brothers nd sisters, have been not only uncared or by us. but actually unknown. Of vhnt value our boasted culture, our legaut houses, our tine spun clothing, iur fastidious habits, if in the refinement of a civilization that is veneered elfishness we play our little plays like hildren and never wake to the power f usefulness as grownup men and voinen who have giants' work to do or the weak and less fortunate?" Luella Marsh listened in genuine surmise. This was another new phase of ?er lover's character. But there were hings said by him that angered her, .lthough while John Gordon was talkng she was saying to herself, "I did !ot know he had any gifts as a speaker that would bear developing." Looking up at him, noting the flush f feeling on his generally pale face, he spoke the first impulsive thought oused by what he said. "Do you really classify lives like ours and mine as 'useless?' Are the ieoplo, then, the only useful beings? )r is it true that the people as you lave deiined them are such a needy ud suffering quantity as you say? ire they not as selfish in their way as ve are in ours?" He heard her in surprise. It was luickly becoming more clear to each f them that they had much to learn if each other's personality. Still, he ras resolved not to argue matters. He lad come with one clear, simple puruse In his mind. He did not wish to inve it obscured or put into second ilace. If Luella Marsh would go with im into the life he had chosen, he knew nougii of her to feel certain that both heir lives would be strengthened and eautified: that if she once cast in her - *- ? t4i. UI? -1- - ...^..1.1 MAMA. Ua1? JI Willi LllLLI MJtT WUU1U LlOCl IWH ?aek, but would go on clear to the end nd bear all things with growing Joy nd pence. If she decided to reject lini and his career because of details n It that were unknown or questiona?le. then he hud no calui answer to his iwn heart as to the result on himself xcopt to say that his path would be a onely one. But he was of determinaion not to leave the matter unsettled. I'hey were not children, but grown nan and woman, and should be able o know their own minds. "Luella, I did not come here to argue vith you"?he spoke with great genleness in reply to her questions?"I vant you. I love you. That means I vould not hide one particle of the truth 'roiu you. If you marry me, It will >e a life of burden bearing, it will be t future full of pain in many ways, It ivlll mean very largely a total breaking tway from all the soft, easy, pleasant social relations we have both known since we were born. All this is true. I ivould not try to soften it for you. r>ut it will he a joyful life, a life of satisfaction, a life full of the consciousness of helping to make a better world, of doing something besides playing, Luellal" He forgot in his feeling what he had said ever since he knew her, that eke could not be moved by pleading, and, rising suddenly, he went over and kneeled beside her. "Luella! Tell me this simply: Do you love me enough to share the unknown future with me? Will you not come with me, trusting in our love for each other to bear us over hard places and explain new experiences as fast as they become real to us?" She trembled and hesitated. She had but to reach out her hand and put It in John Gordon's and say one word. She did not move nor speak for almost a minute. Then she said, looking straight in front of her: "Must I give an answer now?" "Luelln, you have already given me answer! You have promised to be my wife!" The words were spoken by him In a moment of great longing as he saw her indecision nnd foresaw her inevitable answer. Her eyes darkened a little. "I never promised to be the wife of""The wife of"? John Gordon repeated after a silence so long that its suspense was not bearable to him. "I hardly know how to finish"? She uttered a short laugh, and John Gordon rose at once to his feet. "I can never live in Hope House," she added in a low tone. "Is that your answer, then?" He stood looking at her calmly, but she did not look up. "Yes," she finally replied. "Then we must go our separate ways, so help us God!" he exclaimed in a sudden burst of passion, for his heart was hot within him. He paused a moment irresolutely and then started to go out She had not made any motion nor lifted her head to look at him. At the door he turned for un instant and saw, to his astonishment, that her proud head lay on her urrns, which were outstretched on the table near which she had been sitting. He was back by her side, kneeling again and calling her name. When she lifted her head, there were tears on her glowing cheeks. "Trthn I minnnt honr to have it BO." I U V11U, JL VUUMVV WW ? "Then do you love me, Luella, enough to share all with me?" he cried. "Yes; I love you, John," she said slowly. But even as she said it she drew back from him a little. "At the same time I do not see why it is necessary to live at Uope House." "Not uecessarily there, but somewhere among the people. Luella, do you not understand my reasons for wanting to know the people?" "I am not sure," she replied in a troubled tone, and then suddenly she turned away from him and put her head down on her arms again. John Gordon rose and walked up and down the room. Twice as he went past the table he paused irresolutely, his mind In a turmoil, his heart uncertain. The third time he stopped, with a decision In his manner, and placed bis hand on her head. "I do not ask you to marry me unless you can trust everything to me. If you are not able to say without any fear or doubt, 'I will go with you in all the way you have chosen,' I do not, I cannot, plead with you, Luella. Is that asking too much, dear? Can the man who loves you ask any less?" "No, no, he can ask no less! But, John, I fear to go"? She had raised her head and was looking at him with more agitation than he had ever known her to show. "I am not certain that I am fitted, that I am adapted, for such a Life. I have a horror of the places? the?I do not love the people, John, as you say you do. Am I to blame for that?" She asked the question almost timidly, but nothing could soften the hardness of the statement to him. He did not yet see that the one thing that kept her from coming to him without any questions was her lack of religious experience. She did not love the people because all her life had been so far devoted to a love of the things that had surrounded her social position. "No, I do not think you are to blame. But, oh, Luella, could you not learn to love them? Could you not come with me and let the future"? "I could not pretend," she began, with a return of her proud attitude. "I do not ask you to pretend. If you love me. will not all the rest be possible?" She was silent a moment. Then sud denly she looked up aud jald frankly: "I would not be true to you if I kept anything back. I not only do not love the people as you do. but I do not see why you should sacrifice your life to them, as you plan to do. I cannot see that you will accomplish anything." "And Is accomplishment the great and only thing? Is there nothing In being or In striving regardless of accomplishment? But I cannot argue the matter. If you love me enough, Luella. all the rest will follow; If you don't. It will all be useless to you." She still looked at him with the un certain, disturbed ulr that had marked her manner when he first began to talk to her, only the look had deepened Into an expression of doubt and painful unrest. "I do not see the need of all you plan to do. I do not see the need." she said slowly. "You would not have to see that If you only loved me." he replied In a low tone, and there was a hopelessness In it that had not been present before, lie stood looking at her. and suddenly he added: "Let us be entirely frank, Luella, that we may not misunderstand. You shrink from the thought of living In a place like Hope House; you hesitate to commit your future to me because of the physical losses, the absence in our future of these physical luxuries we have both known. Into which we have becu born?is that it? Your love for me is not strong enough to make this loss seem lnslgnilicant?Is that true?" It was a blunt question, and he purposely put it bluntly, perhaps more so than was fair to her. Over her face the color deepened, and she evidently Celt the Implied reproach in his summing up of her hesitation. "That Is not quite the truth." "A part of It?" "You have no right to force such a question upon me." "I have a right to know the whole truth." "You would not understand"? "I would understand everything If you loved me enough to go with me without question." "Love does not mean being unrea sonable." "Yes, Luella, It does, at least this far?that love will trust where It cannot always give reasons." She was silent again. He took a step nearer. "Luella, one question only: If I decide that I must go to live in Hope House, will you go with me? Or will you refuse on account of the physical and social loss?" She looked at him steadily at first, although her color deepened and her lips trembled. "You have no right to ask such a question." "I have?the right of a man who loves you." "Then I will say not go, not for the reason you think, but"? "It is not necessary to explain," John Gordon answered sadly. "Luella, it is plain to me that you do not love me." "You have no right to make any such test!" she exclulmed passionately. She stood up and faced him proudly, and he simply looked into her eyes a moment and then turned and wulked out of the room. This time he did not look back. As he closed the door, Luella Marsh fell upon ber knees by the side of the table, exclaiming: "God pity me! God have mercy!" John Gordon went out of the house calmly enough, although his heart was torn with passionate conflict. As the current of the city swept him on, there surged up in his soul hot anger that be had ever loved this woman who could not have the test of faith In the man who loved her. But it wus at this crisis that his real religious experience rescued him from wreck. Had it not been for that this story had never been told. But as he went his way that day his anger fell, and in its place there grew up a tender memory that left no room for harsh judgment. But for the present he was overwhelmed by the result. He had put Luella Marsh Into the altar place of a proud man's affection. Every day since the time she had pledged her heart to his he had thanked God for what had been given him. Her apparent response to his ambitions, especially noticeable In her correspondence during his absence, bad exhilarated him. To find now that she would not trust her life tp him because he had chosen a career of hardship and loss of physical things struck him the severest blow he had ever experienced. The failure on the part of his father and sister to understand or sympathize became insignificant compared with this event. As he walked along he began to torture himself with questions. Had he made a mistake in taking ber answer as fluul? Had be, as she said, no right to make such a test? Was it asking too much of any woman to ask her to leave u home of luxury to which she had been accustomed from birth and so at once Into surroundings that were repulsive to her? And then she had confessed that she did not love the people as he did, but?was that an un pardonable sin? Yet he had felt when she said It as If an impassable gulf had suddenly been dug between them Had he acted as a man should act who has so uiueh at stake as in this case? The torture of these questions was so keen that after walking several blocks he turned to go buck. "I must see her again," he kept saying. "I cannot let It end here." He went up the steps and rang the bell. The servant who came to the door eyed him curiously. "Miss Marsh has gone out," she said, and John Gordon at first did not believe her until be remembered that the carriage was standing at the curb when he left Luella and that she had said something about going out to the park before tea. He slowly went down the steps, and when he was on the sidewalk he paused. Perhaps In all his life he had never felt so lonely as at that moment. The consciousness that his father and sister and now the woman who had ? ' 1 " U?~ ?I Un/4 Mnrvn/1111 fQ/1 promised iu ue ma wne uuu u-puuuiw Ills life smote him with a sense of personal abandonment that was keen and searching. For a moment he felt so completely alone that he let go of every motive for action. The city and the overwhelming thought of Its misery and sin and selfishness enraged him. "Let us eat. drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die!" he cried out. and nothing at that moment would have saved John Gordon except the fact that what he had mentioned to his father and sister and Luella as his religious experience was the greatest fact so far In his career. As he stood still there at the foot of the steps gradually his spirit grow calmer. The consciousness of God In his life grow stronger. The purpose of his ambition cleared. And after a little while he started on, knowing that his life work would not be changed In its main intent by anything that had so far happened. Only as he went on he also know that he could not and would not be the same man and do the same things in some parts of his earthly vision as if Luella .Marsh had decided to walk with him in the way. It was also quite clear to him tli..t without being able to give a good reason for It he was not closing the chapter with Luella yet. He certainly entertained the idea of her still coming into his life. It was not from his Interview with her that he drew any such hope. But he knew that he did not yet consider hoc notion aa final, or nossiblv it was his own Jictlon that was not tinal. He stopped at a corner, and the sight of a street name on a car going by decided his next movement. with such freshness In such surrounding. "If oleanders ever had any fragrance In this part of the city, they must almost smell of beer and sewer gas," he said to himself as he went on Into the broad hall that opened on the court He was by no means a stranger to Hope House. Since his return from abroad he had been a frequent visitor and had been welcomed with that Inner welcome that springs from well known common purposes. "You are just in time!" called out a quiet but cheerful voice as John Gordon stepped into the doorway of the dining hall. "Miss Manning is absent. You may take her seat by me." "I count myself fortunate," John Gordon replied as he took the seat, returning the greetings of those at the table. "We were talking about you," said the head of the house, with her quiet but earnest manner. "I'm sorry to Interrupt the conversation," replied John Gordon. "No interruption, we assure you. We are glad you came in, for you are the only person who can answer a question Mr. Ford Just asked." "Rather a personal question, Mr. Gordon," said Ford, a student from the university, who was a resident of several months' standing. "The question I asked Miss Andrews was this: 'What is Mr. Gordon going to do? Will he possibly come in here with us?'" John Gordon did not answer the question at once. He knew the complete freedom of the social atmosphere of Hope House, especially at mealtimes. and understood well that his silence would not be misconstrued as disbourtesy. o ? >*1 fKn /iIm/iIo af no r. Clt; itnjtvtu muuiiu im; v.u?.ib vi vui nest, friendly faces at the table, and bis gaze included, as it bad many times before, tbe room itself, with its high, dark wainscoting, its few but choice portraits, Its plain but attractive homelikeness; but, as on every other occasion. his look finally came back to the face of the head of the house, for she was the genius of the place. Grace Andrews was In her thirtyalxtb year. At the time John Gordon first met her at Hope House she had been in charge of the settlement for twelve years. Twelve years of association with desperate human problems such as those that swarmed like the people themselves had left on her face marks of that human, divine calmness that all great women bear who have loved the people. If Grace Andrews did not Impress strangers or visitors as being great In any real sense. It was because the look of her face spoke of a quiet peace that so many people superficially associate with meekness, but do not consider as an element of power. The residents of Hope House understood all that, and tbe oldest residents understood it better than the youngest and had more unquestioned reverence for the greatness of Grace Andrews than those who had less knowledge of her. It was with a deepening consciousness of what this woman was and of her wonderful life and Influence that Juun Gordon came Into her presence. He uuu uiei uer uunug mo uunmui.,) career when some special studies had taken him down to Hope House. And one of the first places he had visited on his return from abroad had been the dining room with its fellowship life presided over by that central figure that dominated the entire group. It was at that first meeting that he had frankly told her and the residents (something of his religious experience and its bearing on his life work. It was that frank confidence that had led up to the question by Ford. "Well?" .Miss Andrews finally said /is John Gordon seemed ready to speak after looking at her so intently. During his silence the conversation at the table had gone on In a quiet but natural fashion. Every one in Hope House always gave every one else perfect freedom for his personality, and no one felt at all disturbed when John Gordon did not reply at once to the student's query. They all paused in their talk when he Rpoke. "I've been thinking of It. I would count It an honor to be part of your family." He spoke to .Miss Andrews, but Included all the table with a gesture. "I'm still In some doubt concerning my future. I am sure you are enough interested In me to care to know that I have left my own home. I am just at present without a permanent place of abode. Perhaps you would be willing to take me In." lie spoke somewhat lightly, but not WllIlUlll a cerium BrnuuBiiraa iii.il uil-,1 all seemed to understand. Miss Andrews glanced at bim quickly and said with a real tone of sympathy: "We would not only give you a hearty welcome, Mr. Gordon, but count ourselves fortunate to have you with us." "Thank you," he replied gratefully. "I would not come Into the house, of course, except as one who would take the position of a learner. I have everv ""I'll go aud'take tea at Hope House," he said to himself, and took the car, noting, by the time, that he would reach the house just as the little family of residents were In the habit of sitting down to their evening meal. Hope House stood In the midst of Its desert of tenements and its corner saloons and vaudeville halls like an oasis of refuge and strength. Saloons to right and left and front and rear, with piles of brick and wood and rubbish flung together in chaotic, tumbled heaps, with openings for human beings who streamed In and out of court and alley and doorway or sat In pallid, huddled masses on the stoops or curbing formed the frame In which Hope House was set, unique and alone. John Gordon left the car one block from Hope House and walked down past five saloons In the block until he came to the arched entrance of the house. Going into the little court, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar oleander tubs that stood against the outer wall of the court, and rrmrveled nt their ahilltv to blossom thing to learn and nothing to contribute. You would have to teach me the i simplest duties of a resident. Miss An- i drews. I at least would be a very will- i ing and obedient pupil." "I have no doubt of that," she replied, with a smile. "But the people < who act that way are dangerously apt < to be in a position to teach their teachers in time." I "I shall never be able to teach the ' teacher in Hope House," said John 1 Gordon earnestly. Miss Andrews laugh- < ed, and the faintest tinge of color ap- 1 peared on her cheeks. "We are all 1 learners here. Let hiui who has not ' learned something today hold up his I hand. Not a hand in sight. Oh, we are 1 all in the nrimarv class! The Deople ' are the alphabet of God. And we have not yet learned the alphabet." The talk gradually circled the table, while John Gordon continued to tell I Miss Andrews something In detail of the interview with his father and sister. After the meal was over the residents scattered to their work, but half a dozen with Miss Andrews and John Gordon lingered a few minutes in the library and living room, which opened out of the wide hall, next the old fashioned staircase which went up near the center of the room, for Hope House had .formerly been an old family mansion, and it stood now In its solitary refinement of interior in complete contrast to every building in the dismal district now ruled and ruined by the human ruins that pleaded day and night for rebuilding until the souls of the residents grew weary with the burden, and God either grew dally i farther away or closer by, in proportion as the workers in the settlement grew more and more to love the people or more and more to lose faith in their redemption. When John Gordon finally went away, he had practically promised to become a permanent resident of Hope House. Something of John Gordon's family history was known to most of the residents, und there was enough of the romantic and unusual in such a de- 1 cislon as his to stir the imagination of the earnest young men and women who had thrown in their lot with Hope House and what it stood for in the city. When John Gordon came out from the archway and turned Into the street It wu8 after 9 o'clock. He walked : along for half a dozen blocks, trying to i reulize what his life work would be < in such a place. Whatever else It ; would be, he knew it would be a life i that would demand Inexorably all the manhood possible. As he stopped and j looked buck down the street and rej alized its wretchedness, its discomfort, its squalor, its moral filth, his heart cried out for strength, his soul felt compussion and anger and longing, and his love of the people, to his Intense satisfaction, grew In spite of what they were and because of what they were. He was still standing there, absorbed In his thought of future possibilities, when a man put his hand on his shoulder and said familiarly: "John, do you want good company? I'm with you if you do." "David!" cried John Gordon In astonishment. "How do you happen to be here?" "Studying life, eh?" said David Barton as he put his arm within his friend's and walked on. "But how does it happen that you"? "Having a week's vacation. Harris told me I'd better go to Colorado. Been down here every night." John Gordon walked on in deepening astonishment "Come up to the rooms and let us have a talk," said Barton, and John Gordon quietly agreed. They took a car and after riding two miles left the car, walked two blocks and came out on Park Boulevard, where David Barton, managing editor of the Daily News, had apartments. When they were seated, David BarA, ? .? <1 at Ktl f Wn/1 iuu lurui'u it auuip, uci tuuo, uui uuuly face toward John Gordon. "Surprised to see me down In the region of Hope House? Great place. Isn't It? Worth more than a trip to the Rockies to go through the show." "Do you mean to say you have never been down around Hope House before?" "I've been there several times, my son." "Do you know Miss Andrews?" "Knew her before you were out of high school." I "You never told me." "Why should I tell you everything at 1 once?" i "Several years Is not at once," replied John Gordon, with a smile. For answer the older man gravely said after a pause: "How old are you. John?" "Thirty.". ' "And I'm forty. The pace Is killing , ine. Harris says I may last five years , more. I doubt It He is evidently anx- ] Ions to keep me going the Ave yeurs. Do I look bad?" j He thrust his pale, nervous face for- J ward, and John Gordon was almost , shocked at his friend's manner. He , was so much moved that he rose and went over and laid his hand on the other man's arm. "David, you're not well. Why don't j you take Harris' advice and go out to Colorado, not for a week, but for a year?" "As bad as that?" David Barton said dryly. "I think I'm good for the five years. But tell me about yourself." "I've left home, and I'm going to take up residence In Hope House." "No! What! Live there?" ( David Barton seemed to pay no at- ( tention to the fact of his friend's leaving home. "I've been there tonight and made , definite arrangements with Miss An- , drews. I must go there In order to fit I myself for my work." "Your work?" "Yes; for the people," replied John s Gordon simply. 'Tooh! The people!" David Barton sniffed contemptuously. < LUC UI1UI iiiioll c4 llvu l/j duviiiuq ??.v rotten concern. 1 tell you. John, there's -in earthquake going to rattle the city ball this winter." and Harris and the News will be one name for the earthquake. The old man is just In the mood for pushing the reform business in the uume of the people. He will agree to anything I say. The press is the only real power left in the dty anyhow. Think of what you can do for the people with the News back of you. ? We can make a special business of the slum boles and make it mighty Interesting for some of the old moneybags of this God forsaken metropolis. Don't answer at once. At any rate, give me time to cough." David Barton sat down close by John Gordon and bad a coughing spell that lasted a few minutes. John Gordon silently watched him. steadily excited by the offer just made to blm. Gould he accept It? Was it not one of those opportunities that men have come to them but pnce? What might be not do for the people If a whole page of a great, powerful, practically boundless, wealthy paper were at his disposal? The material he could put before the public! The conditions be could expose! The wrongs lie could right! The lives he might save! The possibilities grew larger every moment he thought of 11:. Dhvld Barton Anally ceased coughing and spoke again. "Well, will you come Into the News? What do you say?" But John Gordon did not answer at once. Suddenly be had thought of Ln- 1 elin Marsh. If she would not marry hiin as a resident of Hope House, would she uot be proud to be the wife of a writer on one or tue tnom iwwmui dailies of the world? And the same object would be gained for the people. But how about his declaration that he must kuow the people by direct knowledge gained by living amoug them? Yet could be not do that in some way and still put this modern lever of the press under the problem? He faced his friend with strong feeling. The day bad been full of events for him, but this closing event affected him In some ways deeper than all the rest to be continued. Wouldn't Do For an Undertaker. ?When the late Warren Ridgeway, politician, sportsman and speculator, was noted in Pike county, Pennsylvania, for his conviviality and quaint sayings, it being necessary to attend to business in New York one day, he Iropped fishing and chartered a rig at Mllford to go to Port Jervis. The horse was slow and the driver a sleepy lout of a boy who, In spite of an urging, failed to get more than a compromise between a walk and a trot out af the sorry beast. Just as the vehicle turned into Metamoras, Warren moused himself and drawled: nub?" "Yass, sir." "What yer going' to be when yer ;rown up?" "Dunno; g'lang. Why d'ye ask?" "Whatever ye do don't be an under:aker." "Why not, Mr. Ridgeway?" "'Cause you'd never get yer first ?orpse 'round in time fer th' resurrec:ion; that's why." XT Three rivers as big as the Rhine vould just equal in volume the Ganges, three Ganges the Mississippi and :wo Mississippis the Amazon. XST Four thousand seven hundred and seventy miles of thread have been spun >ut of a single pound of cotton. XT The selfish person is quick to accept the generosity of others. "Who knows who the people are?" lie stopped suddenly, and bis whole manner changed. His sharp, abrupt indifferent alertness was smothered out of bis face like magic. He rose and walked through the room while John Gordon, who understood his moods quite well, listened in astonishment "John, listen to me. I believe 1 know something of your plans and ambitious. You're the only man I know who would do what you propose to do. I don't have much faith in it At the same time I believe in you, John. 1 3I>oke contemptuously of the people, but in ray heart, John. I love the people. I am oue of them. Tonight as 1 saw children rotting in those boles I :*ould have died for them. But the martyr's stuff is not In me to die for them except by proxy. Let me tell you, John, you are going at the thing backbanded. What do you want to go and live in Hope House for? Miss Andrews Is doing splendid work, but even her efforts don't accomplish anything. Coniitions are as bad there now as they were twelve years ago. Ifs good flesh ind blood thrown to the lions while the politicians and the gang look on md laugh at the human helplessness. Why. it Is simply an outrage on civilisation tiiat a city like this lets a wornin like .Miss Andrews die by martyr Join in that Infernal bell on earth and never gives ber the financial and social support she ought to have. And the bounds that own the tenements and sii loons and vaudeville property live in luxury and pose as leaders in society tod allow conditions to be created that roll a stream of desperate human problems over Miss Andrews that will kill b?a* In a few years. Yes, kill herF David Barton spoke with a savage energy that made John Gordon shudler. But when Barton had been silent 1 moment be continued in a calmer tone to make a proposition to John GorJon that John was totally unprepared for. "Instead of going Into Hope House why don't you come Into the News? I mo speak for Harris that he will give you full swing on the reform page of your own You can have It all your own way I'll help you with special stories and pictures that will make the property owners around Riverside street squirm. Harris Is savage with the mayor because of last year's campaign. He'll be glad to get even with ?*rlmInlaftHitlnn Ko ohntrlno tin thp