John A. Koonins
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APPOINTED.
AN
AMERICAN NOVEL.
----
BY
SANDA.
la
oureks,
DETROIT:
DETROIT LAW PRINTING CO., 47 GRISWOLD ST.
1894.
Copyrighted.
Bentley Historical
Library
University of Vio





Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1894, by Walter H. Stowers and
Wm. H. Anderson, in the Office of Librarian of Congress at Washington, D.C.


9


BOOK I.
SETH STANLEY.
CHAPTER I.
The summer of 188– was remarkable for its intense
heat during a continuous period of several weeks. It was
not only warm, but very dry, and the little breeze that was
astir was so laden with the heat, reflected by the parched
earth, that it seemed like a breath from an oven. Instead
of allaying discomfort it added to it. When this was
especially noticeable, one afternoon in midsummer, and
work doubly laborious, and the confinement of an office a
burden, there lay in the slip at the foot of — avenue,
the pleasure yacht Sylvia, gently moving with the small
ripples, that were caused by the passing of larger- boats
and by the hot land breeze. The intense heat of the sun
had caused the streets of the beautiful City of the Straits
to be deserted, save by those whose business required


.
them to be abroad. At the foremast of the Sylvia was a'
bright new American flag, whose folds lazily yielded to
the breeze. Obedient to the motion of the yacht, and as
if proud of its flag, the mast swayed gently to and fro, as
if paying obeisance to the clear sparkling waters beneath.
On deck, lounging in easy attitudes and protected from
the rays of the sun by its now awning, were four young,
men, apparently overwhelmed with ennui and heat. Lost
in the day dreams of their own imagery, not one of them
felt communicative enough to break the silence. Mean.
while the captain, steward and cook, who with the engi-
neer, constituted the crew, were engaged in preparation
for a trip up the lakes--the Mecca of the tourists and
home of the enervated, with its inviting innovations to the
business man, and others who seek rest and pleasure from
the activities of a busy life, and an escape from the stifling
air of stores and offices.
The Sylvia was the property of George Stanley, a
prominent business man, who lavished all that ingenuity
could devise upon his only son-Seth, who was then on
board the yacht, the life of the party. George Stanley
had risen to his present position of wealth from the ranks
of the people, by dint of constant energy, good luck and
the natural increase in land valuations. Schooled in the
hardships of money-getting, he had become a devotee at
the shrine of wealth, and gave but little time to leisure or
enjoyment, so exacting was his business. Notwithstand.
ing his busy life and rigorous habits, he lapsed into a very
sunshine of tenderness when the interests of Seth or his
daughter Imogene were brought to his attention. Success
had always attended his ventures, but if failure had met
him, his strong will and great energy would never have
allowed him to acknowledge it. He was rather tall and


angular, with iron grey hair and beard, restless black eyes
piercing through shaggy lashes, a face somewhat wrinkled,
but exhibiting that restless energy which characterized
his every act. He dressed plainly but becomingly to one
of his years and station. He acted quickly and with pre-
cision, and was generally right in his apparently hasty yet
well formed conclusions.
As the young men lay, each apparently absorbed in his
particular thoughts, Seth Stanley who had been quietly
watching the crowded ferry boats passing to and fro, grew
weary of this, and looking for something else to attract his
attention, for continued lounging becomes irksome, observed
the shadows of the masts dancing on the waters that
sparkled under the rays of the sun. Being possessed of a
vivid imagination, these shadows suggested images of
graces which he at once clothed in the habiliments of per-
sonified life, peculiar to his surroundings.
" Look boys!” he exclaimed, “do you see the shadows
of the masts reaching to and fro over the waters. What
do they remind you of?”
· The others, as if they had been waiting for some one
to break the monotony of lounging, instantly cast all leth-
argy aside, and looked in the direction indicated by Stan-
ley.
“It seems to me to suggest the idea of beauty bowing
to purity,” he continued without waiting for a reply to his
question.
“A very appropriate simile,” said Charley Parker, who
was then standing next to Stanley, "for all things bow to
virtue and purity, and if nature in her moods perform
what we recognize as our ideal of the true gallantry of
action it confirms us in our beliefs.”


6
.
i
ono pitajte
“Another instance of the conscious waters," replied
Stanley.
“Rather the conscious masthead," said Parker face-
tiously.
“Why not say the conscious creative imagination,
shaking off the lethargy the body has entailed upon it,
makes grotesque figures or fairy images to suit its moods,"
answered Stanley.
“That seems about all that there is left in us that we
can exercise without sweating and puffing. Yet I can
find energy enough to admire our river-it seems like a
flowing blessing."
Fred Morgan, who had stood silently by, interested in
the conversation, now spoke up, “No wonder that the
poets of all ages were moved to such inspirations when
contemplating nature. They discover beauties that we
dullards would never have dreamed of, and when we read
their thoughts in the meter of their lines, we wonder why
we had not seen it in that light before. They see speech
and song in every sound, in every movement grace and
beauty, in every shape symmetry, and eloquent expression
in the mute inanimate. We see the object; they the
intention of the Creator in that which the object ministers
unto man. Not his bodily wants alone but his mental
conceptions of beauty, grace and fitness.”
“Eloquent! eloquent! but is it not the same in scien-
tific discoveries?” said Parker, “Great truths lie right
under our noses, but we heed them not until some one has
gained distinction by calling attention to them, and by
utilizing the forces of nature. Then we wonder why we
had not discovered the same thing before and taken advan-
tage of it. But we dont, for the majority of us are wedded
to prevailing ideas."


Paul Fox then spoke for the first time. “Then the
earth does contain truths as well as wealth that the inven-
tive genius and philosophy of man has not yet dreamed
of."
“I think,” said Stanley, “that if the ability, time and
energy which is now spent in trying to rob men of their
faith were given to the scientific researches that contribute
to man's material welfare, there would be many more rev.
elations unearthed from Nature's store house."
“Such reasoning and speculation pleases a large num-
ber of people,” observed Fox, " although we believe it so
much mental energy wasted. Nevertheless I believe that
the things eternal are not to be arrived at by finite reason-
ing. Beside the peasant with his faith is happier than
the philosopher who creates for himself a religion."
“A discussion like this is fit ending for such a dissi-
pated day,” put in Parker. “Religion, science, and phil-
osophy." His remark, however, did not stop the thread
of the conversation, as no one paid much attention to his
attempted diversion.
Their conversation became animated and in it they
forgot the time so swiftly passing away, until the low
descending sun warned them that it was time to hurry
ashore and bid friends and folk adieu, as they intended to
pass the night on board the yacht.
A thin line of fleecy clouds girded the western horizon,
extending upwards toward the zenith. Upon these the
rays of the setting sun falling, formed a gorgeous golden
tinted sunset reflecting all hues and tints from a deep red
to a light orange. It was a magnificent sight, and one
which would have made the reputation of any artist, could
he have successfully reproduced it on canvass. The scene
was not without its effect upon the party, for they admired


beauty in all its forms, and it elicited considerable admir-
ation.
"Such a sunset,” remarked Stanley, as they prepared
to go ashore, “ if made the theme of a master poet, would
make Italy jealous of her laurels.”
“ You have seen both and ought to know, but I have
always believed that Italy's clear azure skies are very
much overrated,” said Fox, “and that it is largely due to
the English tourist, fresh from the fogs and mists of Lon-
don. Besides, being aided by the mystery of romance
which hangs over her, her reputation has sustained the
wear of years. But I doubt if ever Italy saw a more beau-
tiful sunset.”
“As I never saw a sunset in Italy, I can't say,” said
Parker, “ but I know that a little romance transfers the
ordinary dull vulgar things of life into those of interest.”
“If we stand here admiring the sunset we shall have
but little time for adieus. It is already late," broke in
Morgan, disturbing their sentiments. “When we are once
off we can revel in the beauties of nature until we become
satiated.”
“I believe,” rejoined Parker, “ if we were admiring the
New Jerusalem with its symmetrical dimensions, streets
of gold, sea of glass and river of life, you would remember
some earthly obligation and advise the people to wait until
they were there before they went into ecstacies."
“I would invite some to wait a long time if I did."
"I suppose that would depend on what creed your dis-
ciples adhered to,” said Fox, “whether their doctrine was
of the universal character or of the select.”
“Something is breeding contention in this crowd,"
said Stanley. “ If we keep on we will have hatched a new
faith ere we return. Fred can't wait to see the varying


shades of the setting sun making glorious the West, but
he could spend another hour in discussion and not miss
the time."
“Men and mules are contentious by nature,” sagely
remarked Parker.
By this time they were on shore and had turned their
steps hurriedly homeward, and the excitement attending
upon the novelty of their proposed trip, with the eager-
ness to return to the yacht, lent unusual vigor to their
walk.


10
CHAPTER II
had lichte Michigan Mat the fall we
Fox and Morgan soon separated from the others as
their homes lay in different directions. Fox was a recent
graduate of Ann Arbor, and had the tall thin frame and
slight stoop of the shoulders peculiar to close scholars.
His high forehead, Roman nose, dark brown hair, gray
eyes and peaked features, gave him a rather classical look.
Indeed the adaptation of his taste and habits marked him
as one beyond his years. On the contrary, his friend and
close companion, who in the fall would enter the senior
class in the Michigan Military Academy at Orchard Lake,
had light hair, dark brown eyes, broad square shoulders,
was stoutly built, of a good medium height, and his every
movement reflected the precision and grace of strict mili-
tary training. Although opposite in taste and tempera-
ment, each found in the other elements that bound and knit
them closely together. Fox could have passed for a hard
working, studious young minister, while Morgan looked
like an amateur athlete.
“Didn't Seth's action and conversation strike you as
rather peculiar?” asked Fox, after a few moments. "He
seemed so thoughtful for one of his activity and light-
heartedness. He really talked soberly this afternoon
about beauty and purity. I'll wager it is the first sensible
thing, that didn't savor of frivolity, he has uttered since
leaving college. You know he left it in his Freshman's
year after convincing his father that confinement and


study was telling on his health. Since then he has done
nothing but hunt, fish, and travel around the country.
Now he has struck this yacht scheme and I don't suppose
this mania will last him long, as nothing satisfies him after
he has attained it, although, before in the possession of an
object he sees the consummation of complete happiness.
He is a good fellow though, with a kind heart, and deep
in his soul there exists qualities which, if called forth and
permitted to grow would change his whole life, and make
him one of nature's noblemen. Everybody seems to like
him.”
"I wonder if Seth has fallen in love," said Morgan
meditatively. ." It would be too funny. He never seemed
to care for anyone in particular, although by reason of his
popularity and his wealth, he could have his choice from
many, besides his very indifference serves as an attraction.
Seth in love! How ridiculous!”
Both laughed heartily.
" But as you say,” continued Morgan, “I noticed his
thoughtfulness, but attributed it to the langour caused by
this sultry weather. However we shall be able to tell
before we get back. If anything is in the wind it will out
in some way on the trip.”
Meanwhile Seth Stanley and Charley Parker had pro-
ceeded on their way, and had gone but a little distance
when Parker, who lived near Stanley, left him to attend to
a few matters, promising however to call by for him on his
way to the yacht. Parker was dudishly inclined, wearing
the latest styles and was fastidiously neat. His form was
slight, hair light and eyes a deep blue. Notwithstanding
his tastes he had ready wit and considerable tact, which
together with his natural good humor, that showed itself
on all occasions, made him companionable as an associate.


12
He was quite a ladies' man, and was seldom overlooked
by his wide range of acquaintances when anything of a
social nature was on the tapis.
Stanley went on his way alone, his head held slightly
forward as if engaged in thought. It was something new
for him to be serious. His nearest approach to it hereto-
fore was in his imperious manner. He inherited the
determined nature of his father, and when once resolved
upon a thing, followed it to its conclusion despite opposi-
tion. In devising means for pleasure he was an enthusiast.
The pleasure attained, however, he longed and sought for
new ones. Yet he had a kind nature and under noble
impulses had done many a kindly deed and given aid to
many a poor fellow in hard circumstances. At the time of
our story he was in his twenty-seventh year, was rather
tall and muscular with broad shoulders and a deep chest,
and of the dark complexion of his father. He had a rather
good looking face, unfurrowed by care or serious purpose
but marked somewhat by the dissipation of late hours.
His hair and luxuriant mustache were black, and his black
piercing eyes that sparkled in merriment, and which were
formidable in anger, his young sister, Imogene, doted
upon.
Fox and Morgan were not far wrong, for if Stanley was
not actually in love he had a very peculiar liking for a cer-
tain young lady that he was too unwilling and too proud
to call love. One evening, a few weeks back, he had been
pressed to attend a church entertainment. He only went
for the novelty of it, for hitherto he had resisted the per-
suasions of father and sister to attend church. Not since
his mother died five years ago had he entered one.
One of the numbers on the program was a solo by Miss
Marjorie Stone. As she appeared upon the stage, neatly


13
and plainly dressed, something about her attracted his
attention. She was not what some people would call beau-
tiful, yet she had a very pleasing and attractive appear.
ance. Her face was round and her features regular. Her
form was of middle height, slender and graceful. What ,
constituted her chief attraction was the pure noble soul
that seemed to look out of her expressive blue eyes. This
and the modest grace of her bearing attracted Seth Stan-
ley. Her song was of a semi-religious nature, and when
her voice, which was remarkably pure and sweet, rose full
and rich with melody and expression, he sat like one
entranced. The words turned his thoughts back to the
teachings of his youth, and for a moment he felt a twinge
of conscience. Then reverting back to the singer he
became enraptured with her voice, bearing and expressive
face, and for the rest of the evening he thought of her
considerably and joined heartily with the others in giving
her hearty applause for an encore.
After the concert was over he sought out his friend
Fox, as he was desirous of meeting her, and whom he
found was an intimate acquaintance of hers. He was
presented and was somewhat surprised that she exhibited
no sign of gratification as others had done, on meeting
him. She had often seen him in passing up and down
the street and had admired his gentlemanly bearing, and
had often wondered why a young man of his ability and
opportunity had so wasted them.
Her unassuming manner attracted him more than if
she had used all the finesse of the couquette to the same
end. As he sauntered home that evening thoughts of her
constantly flitted through his mind, but why he could
hardly understand, “ for,” said he, trying to analyze his
thoughts, “ she is not beautiful, though decidedly comely,


14
and her retiring modesty amuses me, so different is it from
that of most of the young ladies I have met with, and her
rich voice certainly thrilled me. I must see more of her.”
He was pleased with Miss Stone from the fact that he
recognized that she, being an exceptional character, would
be able to amuse him, and for that object he resolved to
cultivate her acquaintance; in fact it could be well doubted
if he was at that moment actuated by any motive outside
of what he experienced when determining upon a trip, or
carrying out any plan in which he expected to derive some
great pleasure. Some will perhaps be shocked at him,
but then consider his training, the child of an immensely
rich father, gratified in every whim, sought after by the
mammas of marriageable daughters, a petted spoiled child,
surfeited with pleasure and fastidious to a high degree,
one who thought that with money all things could be pur-
chased. Was he so much different from the rest of the
world in this? How many noble souls and great charac-
ters have sunk into insignificance? How many giant
minds have become dwarfed in intellect through the wealth
of the world and the lavish praise of the flatterer heaped
upon them? How many young men of exceptional oppor-
tunity and parentage are the sons of their fathers only?
Is it to be wondered at that so many of the sons of the
rich never obtain pre-eminence in learning, statesmanship,
or literature, or that they rise above mediocrity, so ener-
vating is the power of wealth among the majority that
possess it? Some of us learn too late that happiness and
contentment are more to be desired than money, and that
money cannot buy them. Stanley found this out, but at
what a cost of mental torture and anguish. Considering
his fastidious tastes and his training, his resolve as to the
extended acquaintance with Miss Stone must be consid-


15
ered in the light of a compliment to her qualities that,
even without effort she exerted so great an influence over
him. At any rate the next Sunday found him at church
in company with Imogene, an attentive listener to the
minister, but a still more attentive one to the choir, situ.
ated directly back and above the pulpit. He had learned
that she was a member of it, and he could distinguish her
voice above the others. He found his good opinion of her
increasing. As he listened he was unable to tell which
interested him most, voice or girl. He stared at her a
great deal, and once or twice, when she caught him, he
flushed slightly, and with some confusion looked quickly
away.
Two or three weeks of the same routine followed. He
becoming a constant attendant at church; thus serving &
good end, for the words of the preacher awakened in him
many old memories which caused him to reflect. From
that time he had a double purpose in attending church..
This was the beginning of his transition from the careless,
thoughtless youth, to the thoughtful man of great pur-
poses and lofty ideals. His mother was a good Christian
and had endeavored to teach her child aright, but he
found such teachings at variance with his inclinations and
the practices of certain companions, and he had quietly
lain them aside. Since that time he had sturdily refused
to be upraided for his shortcomings by any one except his
father, who once in a while bluffly, but curtly, asked if he
ever intended to be a man and settle down to business. In
this case, once in the church, circumstances compelled
him to listen. Listening aroused thoughts which brought
in vivid contrast his own loose life, with the one of sacri-
fice now reflected by his new surroundings and teachings.
Sometimes an incident in a man's life changes the whole


,
16
course of his nature, while all other efforts in that direc-
tion have proved futile. As his mind reverted to his
mother a spark of tenderness lit up his soul as no other
thought could. He was in the humor for such thoughts,
feeling depressed and remorseful.
The change was growing, he was fast becoming serious,
more of a man. Thinking less of pleasure and more of
the responsibility of manhood. His former boon compan-
ions he began to shake for the more profitable companion-
ship of the young men we have seen him with.
He desired more than ever to become better acquainted
with Miss Stone. He succeeded and it came about in this
way.


17
CHAPTER III.
At the solicitation of Imogene he called with her upon
Mrs. Charles Durham, who had been an intimate friend
of his mother's, As they entered the richly furnished
parlors, where hung many a costly work of art, luxuriant
drapings, and which were filled with costly bric-a-brac,
Stanley's heart gave a great thump as he noticed a young
lady at the piano whose form seemed familiar. While
wondering who she was, she turned around and he recog-
nized Miss Stone. Bowing gracefully, he approached her,
and was about to make some remark when Mrs. Durham,
a matronly lady, appeared with as many fluffs and orna.
ments as she made courtesies.
“ I am so glad to see you, my dears,” she said, as she
kissed Imogene. “Let me introduce you to Miss Stone.
I hope you will become great friends. You are acquainted
with her, are you not?” turning to Stanley.
“Yes, I met her once at a church entertainment,” he
replied hesitatingly.
Mrs. Durham arched her eye-brows as she replied,
“Now that's a surprise for me. We old people are way
behind the times. You young people get around and
acquainted so fast.”
She then set about making the young people better
acquainted, and to judge from the clatter of tongues and
the sounds of laughter succeeded admirably.
“ You must stay to tea,” she said shortly, and out she
went bustling without waiting for a reply to have the
necessary preparation made.


18
'
.
Stanley noticed in Miss Stone the same indifferent, yet
pleasing manner she exhibited at their first meeting. At
first it annoyed him, finally it amused and entertained
him. Finding that he must lead in the conversation if it
continued as sprightly as before, he chose to speak of the
concert where he had first met her.
“Miss Stone, as I have not had the opportunity before,
I must compliment you at this late hour on your success
at the concert. Without flattery I can say your voice and
rendition were superb, far superior to some who make
professional pretentions.”
“Yes, indeed," chimed in Imogene, “your solo was
lovely."
“I disclaim all pretensions to merit,” replied Miss
Stone, “and only filled in the program for lack of some
one to complete it, and the concert was given for a laudable
purpose."
“May I ask what that purpose was?”
“Certainly. Our sexton had been quite ill. His fam-
ily having no other means of support were in sad want.
They have three little children, and had scarcely food and
fire enough for comfort. I visited them myself, and could
hardly believe that there were people so wretched. But
one never knows what he can bear until he has been called
to undergo the scourge. We cleared over one hundred
dollars, and you should have seen the tears of gratitude in
that woman's eyes when we gave it to her. Even the
children, in a shy way, clinging to their mother's skirts,
looked their thanks. We felt amply repaid.”
Marjorie told her story in a simple, earnest manner and
there was the slight suspicion of a tear in her eye as she
closed.
“Oh! It's a good thing to help the poor when you're


19
certain they are needy, but there are so many impostors,"
said Stanley uncharitably, for he seldom gave any thought
except of late, to anything not conducive to his own
pleasure or to those whom he dubbed, “poor unfortunate
fellows," who had drunk the cup of folly to its very dregs
to find the bitter potion at the bottom. For these he had
a fellow feeling, and they were the first to touch the dor-
mant tenderness of what might have been a charitable
nature.
“It may have seemed to you that people living in such
want wouldn't care to live at all, but more than two-thirds
of the suicides are those who were once above want, but
have either ruined their own prospects, or have had them
ruined by adverse circumstances."
“Perhaps you are right. Those who know only poverty
and strife expect but little, and never consider their lot in
the same light with those who have fallen from a position
of wealth and affluence."
“It is brooding over one's difficulties and prospects
that drive men to despair. They find themselves on the
verge of financial or social ruin, and rather than trust
themselves to the consequences, they fling themselves into
the uncertainties of the eternal beyond.”
Before she could reply, Mr. Durham came in, but
Stanley,s speech concerning the deserving poor disturbed
her a little.
Mr. Durham was small in statute, rather fat, and like
most fat men, jovial, good natured and fond of a joke at
some one else's expense. Marjorie was his niece, and the
Durham's having no children, made much of her.
“Good evening,” said he, on entering the room. Then
catching sight of Stanley and his sister, remarked as a


?
20
twinkle lit up his eye. “Are young ladies so scarce that
you have to use your sister for company?”.
“No, not at all. Is it surprising that a young man
should be seen out in company with his sister. ?”
“Only it is an exception,” rejoined Mr Durham laugh-
ing.
“I enjoy being an exception in this case.”
Just then in came Mrs. Durham. “Why, Charles,
what made you so late to tea? Come right out now, every-
thing is ready. Seth will you please escort Marjorie, and
you Charles, Imogene.
“Mr. Stanley has just said he enjoyed being an excep-
tion, in the fact that his sister is quite entertaining society,
therefore he prefers her above his lady friends. You have
broken in upon his enjoyment and made him give his
sister the shake' already, to use the parlance of the
street."
“It wont be many years before Imogene will have all
the beaux around her ears that she desires and they wont
be such bald-headed badgers as you either,” replied Mrs.
Durham.
“The lucky one soon will be if he takes after me," and
he patted his semi-bald pate in conscious glee, at having
floored Mrs. Durham in the first bout.
Mrs. Durham was very much pleased to have Stanley
and Miss Stone meet at her home, for while she had been
away at school studying music, Mrs. Durham had been
very lavish in her praises. She had a warm place in her
heart for the young man for his mother's sake, and she
believed that beneath the exterior of his careless life there
might lay dormant, excellent qualities, which only needed
some spark to set them alive. He looked so much like his
mother that he couldn't be inherently bad. But Mrs.


21
.
Durham was very susceptible in her opinions, and was
easily led away after strange doctrines and beliefs concern-
ing persons. Her simplicity and credulity made her an
easy prey. to representations.
Marjorie was a frequent visitor, but Stanley's life of
pleasure and roving, since her return from school,
accounted for their not having met before.
Mr. Durham sat at the head of the table while on either
side sat Imogene and Marjorie. Stanley sat next to her,
while Mrs. Durham sat at the foot of the table. During
tea he had abundant opportunity to study the young lady.
Although Mr. Durham engaged her attention more than
was satisfactory to his taste, yet he had sufficient conver-
sation with her to know that she was his intellectual
superior. She talked more readily and clearly on all sub-
jects than he could, even politics, and proved a worthy
opponent to the caustic arguments of Mr. Durham, who
prided himself on his ability to worst an enemy in debate.
During one of their heated discussions on Universalism,
which was Mr. Durham's hobby, Stanley had time to reflect
on his general ignorance, for though he had nearly finished
a year at college, he had failed to follow up the informa-
tion gained from his text books, by general reading and
study. He realized that he was sadly deficient in general
information and in deductions, as compared with these
two, Mrs. Durham tried to entertain Imogene but she
was so engrossed in the arguments of the others that she
proved only a passive listener. Once or twice Stanley
essayed to engage in the argument siding with Miss Stone,
but he gave a sigh of relief when the conversation drifted
to the commonplace topics of society and music. He then
had opportunity to engage her attention and to keep it
awhile from Mr. Durham, of whom he had actually began


22
to feel jealous. Supper over, they were again in the
drawing room and Imogene suggested that they have
some music.
“Wont you please sing for us Miss Stone, Seth admires
your voice very much?”
He crimsoned a little at his sister's remark, he termed
it a bad break, but joined in her request, “Yes, do, Miss
Stone, for music you know hath charms to sooth the
civilized, as well as the savage breast.”
“Shall we consider that as an acknowledgment that
yours is troubled ?" piquantly asked Mr. Durham.
“Not at all, only I am passionately fond of music.
When I was in Europe last summer nothing attracted me
more than the opera at Bayreuth.”
“Then you must be something of a musician,” said
Marjorie, who was now interested. "For we generally
practice that which pleases us most. Perhaps you are a
connoisseur and my singing may disappoint you."
“Allow me to assure you to the contrary. I have heard
your voice and have placed it on my list of attractions, of
course with your permission always."
It was Marjorie's turn to blush, but before she could
reply as she would have liked, Mrs. Durham who had
planned while at table that she should sing, threw her
weight into the scale by saying, "I have it. You can sing
my favorite, 'Oh Restless Sea,' Charles can sing the tenor,
and Seth, whom Imogene has just told me, has studied
some at Munich, will sing the bass.”
“Only a smattering,” protested Stanley. “It seems to
me that my life has been a series of smatterings. In cul-
ture I am like what Richard III was in physical appear-
ance, only half made up.”
“Self depreciation,” said Marjorie, “is the first step


23
towards wisdom. One cannot be wise until he can com-
prehend what wisdom is and what must be done to attain
it.”
“Philosopher as well as musician. May I become one
of your pupils ? I assure you I shall be attentive and an
enthusiast."
“You might be both and yet despise my doctrine.
You would hardly go around the world to find your
Socrates or Plato in an obscure girl who knows little of
philosophy and less of the world. Your remarks savor of
flattery, but of course you were jesting.”
“Neither jest or flattery, I protest, upon honor. The
knowledge of the world teaches arrogance, while the phil-
osophy of to-day is a medley of fact and speculation, con-
tradiction and assertion. A man may be skilled in these
and yet need to learn simplicity and humility.”
“Have you not learned either e're this?”
“Don't put your scholar to the test of examination
until you have given him lessons.”
By this time the music was found and Imogene had
seated herself at the piano to act as accompanist, so further
conversation was cut off. In the duet, between the tenor
and bass, Stanley's voice, which was rich with melody,
rose so full and pure, so strong and sure, and free from
the harsh rasping tone of the amateur, that Marjorie was
both surprised and pleased, while Mrs. Durham, who sat
in a large easy chair, rubbed her hands in delight during
the whole song. It was finely rendered.
“Bravo,” cried the accompanist when the song was fin-
ished. “Bravo," echoed Mrs. Durham from the depths of
her easy chair, and insisted upon a repetition of it, but
Mr. Durham claimed he was at a disadvantage in company


: 24
with two professionals and refused to sing, which caused
Mrs. Durham to scowl.
Marjorie and Stanley at once began to enter their pro-
testations: 6 Why, the idea, uncle," exclaimed Marjorie,
“of you leading Mr. Stanley to believe me a professional.”
"Allow me to say,” said Stanley, who had been trying
to speak, “that you have presented my grievance exactly.”
Mr. Durham saw that he had put his foot in it and
called their attention to a painting he had recently pur-
chased From that their attentton wandered to other
paintings and Stanley found himself talking as loqua-
ciously as a village pastor, in blending events of travel
with his knowledge of the masters. He surprised himself
and talked so long that the time for their departure arrived
altogether too soon.
The Stones lived on a side street not far from the
Stanleys, and Stanley and Imogene saw Marjorie safely
home. Before bidding them good night, she had gra-
ciously invited both to call upon her. They promised,
Stanley rather eagerly, for he was very much pleased with
her.


CHAPTER IV.
:
ble
As Stanley and his sister, after leaving Miss Stone at
her door, continued on their way home, he felt as if there
was something lacking. “What can it be?” ran in his
thoughts. “I surely am not in love with her. The idea
is ridiculous. I have never known care, or sought after
that which did not minister to my pleasure. I have never
taken time to consider one girl above another, and only
this year father has tried to persuade me to enter the
store, become better acquainted with the business, settle
down and marry.” So absorbed was he that Imogene
wondered at his unusual silence. She tried to rally him
from his reverie, but she was unsuccessful. All at once
the idea struck her that perhaps her brother had fallen in
love with Miss Stone. Then her brother's actions since
that church concert, his church going, rhapsodies over
Miss Stone's voice and his moments of quiet thoughtful-
ness, all occurred to her and convinced her that it was the
solution of his changed manner. She was still thinking
of it that night when she went to bed. When she rose in
the morning she felt convinced of it, and in her impulsive-
ness communicated her suspicions to her father. He wel.
comed her intelligence gladly, for he was grieved at his
son's thoughtless mode of life, and anxiously looking for.
ward to the time when he would be able to relieve him of
some of the cares of business. He thought also if Imo-
gene's surmises were correct, and his son could win Miss


26
Stone, he would find an intelligent, worthy, helpmate.
The fact that her parents were not rich was nothing to
him, for coming from the ranks of the people he knew the
value of conscious worth whenever and wherever he
saw it.
Imogene could hardly restrain herself, so pleased was
she with her thoughts. If she had dared she would have
told her brother. She would also liked to have told Miss
Stone, for, with her short acquaintance, she imagined that
Marjorie would make a nice sister-in-law. She was curious
to find out if her brother's love was returned, and for that
purpose called on Miss Stone before he had the opportun-
ity to do so, and was disappointed at not being able to dis-
cover anything
As for Stanley, in vain he protested to himself that he
was not in love, and that he only sought and desired her
company for the mere purpose of being amused. When
he retired that evening he was still deeply absorbed in his
thoughts, planning and dispelling, building and destroy-
ing, yet still protesting that he was not in love. Poor
fellow, he did not know then as he afterwards learned that
the very fact of his protestations against this new sensa-
tion was proof that Cupid had not vainly directed his dart
at him. That it was the beginning of the passion of his
life. That it was the beginning of sorrow and struggle
that eventually destroyed his old notions of the power and
influence of wealth to attain all things; which clarified
his soul for the future happiness in store for it, and made
it all the sweeter for having been delayed by the stirring
scenes, incidents and perils through which he had passed.
The following Sunday found him again on his way to
church, and he met her just as she came out of her street


27
to take the main thoroughfare. He was surprised and
delighted nevertheless.
She greeted him with a smile and they went the rest
of the way together. Very quiet was the young man and
somewhat abstracted. She noticing it asked, “ Why, Mr.
Stanley, you seem very thoughtful this morning. Are you
oppressed with the extraordinary heat, or preoccupied
with the services ?”
“Neither, I was thinking how recreant I had been.
Going to church is a new custom with me."
She was somewhat surprised at this remark, but remem-
bering what he had said at Mrs. Durham's, concerning
himself, after a pause, she said: “Noble resolves, like
other virtues, come better late than never.”
“I have thought," he replied, " that I could not tie
myself to any one object. If I were a Christian today,
tomorrow, from mere restlessness, I would be a sinner.
Ever since I left college, I have flitted from one thing to
another, epicurean-like, and like them, I have less pleas-
ure in the realization of desires than in their pursuit. I.
have about reached the conclusion that all men of my
stamp eventually reach the vanity of vanities.”
She was shocked now, and afterwards remembered this
little speech and compared it with what people said about
him. However, she protested against applying the stand-
ard of earthly, to celestial things. Said she:
“You cannot compare heavenly things by earthly
standards. When all things else fail, the earnest Christian
is buoyed up and strengthened through his faith. It is
quite lamentable that so many people never look for the
comfort and blessings to be attained by the acceptance of
Christ, except when their days of usefulness are past, or
when in great distress, but so seldom when in prosperity.”


28
“I should be glad to discuss this subject further with
you,” said Stanley, as they parted at the church door,
“and at some future time we will.”
The sermon of the Rev. Mr. Elliot might have been as
interesting as usual, and he as earnest as ever in the enun-
ciation of the truths embodied, but Stanley's mind was far
away and he began to realize that he was either in love or
that some other inexplicable mental ailment had seized
him. He immediately began to plan some diversion by
which he could overcome the feeling, thinking that this
new born sensation, the plaything of a day, could be laid
aside at will, as easily as he could lay aside one pleasure
to take up another. A trip up the lakes suggested itself
and all that afternoon and evening he thought of it, and
finally consummated a plan. Parker came over in the
evening, and as they sat smoking together, he unfolded
the plan to him, and he was delighted with it. In fact he
had been in a quandary as to how, and where he would
spend his summer vacation. During the week Fox and
Morgan were made aware of it and they became enthusias-
tic over it. He acquainted his father with his intention,
and he, after giving his son a lecture upon the necessity
of soon giving his strict attention to business, gave his
assent, and placed the pretty little steam yacht Sylvia at
his disposal. Seth immediately began his preparations.
He had promised to call on Miss Stone, and he hardly
knew whether to do so before or after their trip. He
began to reason with himself. “If I go before I will have
redeemed my promise, and when I return my mind will be
occupied with other things. I shall then keep out of her
way and so drown this sudden impulse of sentiment, for it
can be nothing else. I could not settle down to household
cares now, (In his conceit he thought he had only to offer


himself to be accepted) and give my devoted attention to
a woman. The romance and the newness of the passion
would soon wear off and I should long to be free again, to
come and go with the boys as I have been wont. I'll pay
the visit first.” By this conclusion it might be rightly
assumed that he was not a little afraid of the effects Miss
Stone's qualities might have upon him. Accordingly
about a couple evenings before they were to go on their
trip, with the most fastidious care, he dressed himself and
started to pay his promised call.


CHAPTER V.
Not until he had mounted the steps and rang the bell,
did he fully realize what he was doing, so abstracted had
he been. A feeling of extreme diffidence came over him
and he felt that he would like to retreat, but too late, for
Miss Stone herself answered the bell and greeted him
cordially. Something in her smile overcame his diffident
feeling, for there was in it, he thought, a something which
seemed to indicate that he was expected and welcome.
Upon entering the parlor he was somewhat surprised
to find that a rather thin, dudish looking chap had pre-
ceded him. He was dressed in the very latest styles, his
exceedingly light hair was parted in the middle, and to
cap it all he wore eye-glasses.
Miss Stone was not long in making the two acquainted,
and each instinctively felt that he had a rival in the other.
Stanley advanced and extended his hand while the other,
half rising, received it lanquidly and then dropped back
into his easy position.
“Aw, Mr. Stanley” said Mr. Maxwell, “I have heard
of you before. I believe that you, with some friends, are
soon to take a pleasure trip up the lake.”
“Yes, that is my plan at present, and I have called
upon Miss Stone to pay my adieus before going," replied
Stanley turning to her.
“Aw, very kind of you,” said Maxwell, and he stared
at her, as if waiting for her approbation.


31
Stanley thought he felt a feeling of dislike for the
man rising up within him which he could attribute to no
particular reason except his dudish manners, and that he
promised to be a bore.
As Maxwell continued to look inquisitively at her, as
if he deemed it necessary she should say something, she
replied: “Yes, Mr. Stanley recently offered himself as a
pupil, promised to be attentive, and now he is plotting to
rid himself of me entirely.”
“Perhaps he is only taking his vacation preparatory to
assuming his new duties," said Maxwell.
“You have stated it better than I, Mr. Maxwell, accept
my thanks. I go but I return again. I suppose by that
time there will be a class of us as devoted as Hypatia's
pupils.”
“If you go much further, Mr. Stanley, I shall accuse
you of being a coquette."
“Then I'm as dumb as an hoyster," turning to see
what effect his remark would have upon Maxwell. But in
that vacant countenance he could discern nothing.
Marjorie Stone appeared lovely to Stanley that even-
ing. She was dressed plainly in a light fabric, no orna-
ments save a bunch of violets that lay upon her bosom.
Her round mobile face, bright red lips, expressive eyes,
high forehead, from which the hair rose and fell in seem-
ing disorder, and coiled in a neat knot behind, formed a
picture that completely entranced him, and he could not
conceal the look of admiration and pleasure it gave him.
She saw the look, flushed slightly and made haste to
re-open the conversation. They were talking of his pro-
posed trip and the places of interest he intended to stop
at, when Mrs. Stone entered the room. She was of medium
height, rather stout, very well preserved for her age, and


33
tainly have it. Their voices blended so well as to elicit
complimentary remarks from even Maxwell. As he stood
by her he felt the influences that she seemed to exert over
him unconsciously strengthen. He could feel that, in
her presence, the wild caprices that governed his whole
life's actions were being negatived by her quiet, gentle
manners, strong character and purposes. He felt then as
if he could never again enter into the wild excesses into
which he had too often plunged, at other times and places,
either of speech or of the imagination. He felt that his
thoughts were growing purer, his purposes nobler, and he
half resolved to possess her for his wife.
Afterward” at her request,' he sang alone. He chose
“ True to the Last,” and acted as his own accompanist.
He put great feeling into his song and sung as if to her
alone, for he felt then that despite his restless nature he
could be true to her, and would not desire to be free again
to long after new joys or new pleasures. Such deep fervor
did he put into it that both Mrs. Stone and Maxwell
looked apprehensively at Marjorie, but she was listening
only to the song and admiring the voice, and speculating
upon the effect it would produce were it brought to per-
fection.
Shortly after Stanley prepared to go, leaving Maxwell
in almost the same position in which he found him. She
accompanied him to the door, and moved by his feeling,
he broke up the object for which the pleasure trip was
planned and riveted the chains more firmly than he desired
to break by asking: “May I have the pleasure of drop-
ping you an account of our outing?”
She hardly expected such a proffer, and it took her
rather unawares, but she said in what he thought was a
delightfully bewitching manner, “I should be pleased to


34
know of it, but mind,” she added naively, “ you must tell
me all.”
“That is a part of the bargain,” he replied gaily, and
lifting his hat, bid her good-bye in high spirits.
Between that time and the hour of his departure his
mind was at sea. At times he abused himself soundly for
his soft-heartedness, at others he was half inclined to let
his feelings have full sway. Between these conflicting
emotions, at the time this story opens, he had arrived at
no fixed conclusions as to his future purposes. Of her he
was thinking when Parker left him to see after a few mat-
ters that needed his attention.
It was of her he was thinking on arriving home. He
went directly to his room to make some preparations and
was kept busy until it was about time for Parker to arrive.
He lit a cigar and smoked awhile in silence. He did not
have to wait very long, for Parker soon came and was in
buoyant spirits. Stanley exhibited his impatience to be
off for he at once made ready to go. He bid his father
good-bye, embraced Imogene, who was somewhat disap-
pointed that he should go away so soon, for it looked as if
her surmises were not correct after all. In consequence
she was nervous, and she said to Parker, “Take good care
of my brother.”
“Don't bother about me,” said Stanley impatiently, as
he rather hurriedly unclasped her hands, “Women are
always imagining something is going to happen."
Parker, however, assured her that he would look after
him, and the two then started for the yacht. Paul Fox
and Fred Morgan had preceded them and were sitting on
deck smoking, exchanging stories, and enjoying the cool
breezes of the evening.


.
35
:
CHAPTER VI.
The Sylvia was a beautiful steam yacht of a decidedly
rakish appearance, that had been built and fitted up under
Mr. Stanley's directions, for pleasure purposes. Her cabin,
which was finished' in hard wood and furnished completely
throughout, was divided into three apartments, dining-
room, drawing-room and the sleeping apartments. The
kitchen and engine-room were below. The decks were
fitted around with seats, and overhead was suspended an
awning to protect her guests from the rays of the sun.
The deck's surface was polished so smoothly that it
reflected the objects upon it. Everything had been put
in readiness and tastefully arranged by John Saunders,
who acted for this occasion as steward and cabin-boy.
Saunder was an Afro-American*, but his complexion was
fair and his features regular. He was slender of form and
of a medium height; his hair, slightly curling, was raven
black, and his eyes were of the same hue. He had been a
class-mate of Stanley in the High School at Detroit, and
entered college at the same time at Ann Arbor taking the
course of civil engineer. Stanley had always taken an
*This race name has been recently adopted by large numbers of colored people
in the United States to show, 1st, their origin, and 2d, their present race standing.
So far as long residence, a century or more of living, by one's ancestors, and an
active participation in a country's affairs can change a race, they claim to have
changed and that no other class of people in the country have a better right to be
called American. The term Negro, while it may have been aptly applied to their
ancestors, they hold, as to themselves, it is, 1st, a mionomer, and 2d, is un-American
and alien. In Appointed this term, Afro-American, will be used when the author
has occasion to speak of them out of dialogue. In dialogue the terms generally in
use will be used.


36
interest in him, because of his close application to his
studies. and the sacrifices he had made to remain at school.
After his graduation, being unable to obtain work in his
chosen avocation Stanley had secured a place for him in
his father's store, where he became assistant bookkeeper.
He was, however, always subject to his call when he
thought he needed a valet to accompany him on his ram-
bling trips. Stanley not only found him reliable, but an
agreeable and instructive companion. In fact, if it had
not been for the circumstance of color, and the adverse
criticism he feared would be heaped upon him by society,
he would have made a friend and confidant of him.
It was the intention of the party to make the trip by.
daylight, and as they expected to be off at dawn retired early.
Saunders was strictly charged to be up with the lark and
arouse the others early. All slept soundly and when Saun-
ders awoke them, just as the sun began to peep over the
trees on Belle Isle, the active busy life of the day had
commenced along the wharves, and the ferry boats had
began to ply between Detroit and Windsor, they turned
out with many a stretch and yawn.
“It doesn't seein to me as if I've slept two hours,” said
Parker in a gaping vaice.
“I know I slept very soundly,” added Morgan. “I
didn't wake once. No wonder sailors are so healthy.
Such refreshing air, restful sleep and keen appetite. I
feel as if I could eat right away.”
“The way of the laggard,” remarked Paul Fox.
“You are a nice one to say laggard,” replied Morgan,
“when you sit rubbing your eyes and too lazy to dress."
“My stomach is not more active than my limbs, at any
rate,” retorted Fox. “I can wait until breakfast is ready.”.
“This river air must have sharpened your wits as well


37
as appetites.” said Parker, who was standing in the middle
of the room going through the dumb bell practice with
closed fists.
“I suppose you wanted to be odd and thought you
would whet your muscle," said Morgan, looking up. “ You
need it, however, for its precious little exercise you get
outside the gymnasium.”
“ Don't think Orchard Lake is the only place where
people exercise. We kick football, row and put on the
:: gloves here, if we are not so straight up and down that
people think our backs and shoulders are moulded instead
of having grown to that shape.”
“I wish we had brought a pair of gloves,” said Stan-
ley, who had remained silent.
“ I'd give Parker a lesson in the manly art if we had,"
said Morgan.
“ You mean we would probably give each other a les-
son,” replied Parker, still swinging his arms.
“I didn't know I was in a nest of gladiators," said Fox,
who was far from muscular. “I guess I'll go up and
wrestle with the breakfast table.”
“That's right in your line,” said Morgan, who had been
waiting for an opportunity to get even with Fox.
All now hurried on deck, and while the cook was pre-
paring breakfast they helped the Captain and Saunders to
get the boat under way. All of them were eager to be off
for their minds were stored with the fun and pleasure they
expected to get out of the trip. On their left lay Detroit,
with the curling smoke and steam of its various manufac-
tories contrasting with the clear blue sky and light fleecy
clouds which were beginning to disappear under the heat
of the sun. Detroit is the most beautiful city of America,
handsomely adorned by nature and man; with fine


39
waters which leads into the broad expanse where those
same trees seem but a fringe on the edge of space.”
“You forgot Hull's surrender, and Pontiac's Con-
spiracy, when you said Detroit had no history,” said Mor-
gan.
“There goes our military genius again,” said Fox.
“Are not beautiful poems with their pleasing phrases
regulated by moods and surroundings?” asked Parker.
“We read them, give our fancy full play, and say, “surely
this is a fine picture, and we ask ourselves why we had
not seen it in that way before. The fact is, these things
are a part of ourselves, and we look to far away things for
beauty and pleasure. The poet will find a psalm of praise
in the hum of machinery, while the laborer, whose business
keeps him with it daily finds it prosy. Possibly if Lowell
were with us he might find something in this rarely beau-
tiful morning that would make him go into rhapsodies
over “a day in July."
“Right you are,” replied Stanley. “We feel that
which we cannot express yet cannot all conceal, but let me
warn you, don't let your spirits overflow before we are
fairly under way, or before we return it may grow monoto-
nous."
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” interposed
Fox.
“Saith the preacher," chimed in Morgan.
This created a laugh at Fox's expense, for he was
ministerial looking
They did not hurry any with this early morning meal,
but mid jest and laughter prolonged the double repast of
food and wit for some time.
By this time the Sylvia was well out in Lake St. Clair,
and books, magazines, papers and sketching utensils were


40
• brought out and each busied himself with his particular
book or engaged in his favorite pastime, until the govern-
ment canal with its made banks supported and lined by
willows, the club houses and private residences of the
“Flats” came in view.
Stanley had picked up a copy of the Century, but did
not read much, for as the needle is attracted and turns to
the magnet, so his thoughts went out to Marjorie Stone.
He thought it would have been pleasanter had there been
ladies and music on board. The boys were good company,
and they were having a good time, but something appeared
to be lacking. Remembering his offer of writing to her
he wondered how he was going to do it without the other
fellows finding it out. This was succeeded by another, a
companion thought. If he had the opportunity how would
he write, what would he say, how should he say it? He
had many correspondents, all gentlemen, but no ladies,
and he wanted to create a favorable impression. “I shall
not write until we get to Mackinac,” he said almost aloud.
“She has been around here propably a dozen times or
more, and what I might say about it would be dull and
commonplace.”
Morgan, who was on the alert to find out what troubled
him, had been quietly observing him. He noticed that
since the conversation dropped he had not read a page in
his magazine, and was apparently absorbed in dreams, so
leaning over toward Fox he said, “I say, Paul, I guess
our conjecture was right after all. Seth is in another
mood.”
“ Don't be in too big a hurry to judge, Fred. He may
be brooding over some irritating circumstance.” ,
“Say, boys, don't you think it is time for lunch,"


exclaimed Parker, who had also been unable to settle down
to anything. “ This trip will make a glutton of me.”
“I don't mind if we do,” answered Stanley. “Say,
John, prepare a lunch for us, please.”
“All right, Mr. Stanley.”
Saunders had been quietly and busily engaged at some-
thing on the forward deck and had hitherto escaped their
notice. He quickly laid down his materials and started
for the kitchen to have the lunch made ready. Stanley,
who was somewhat familiar with his character and had
often been astonished at his versatility, then quietly
strolled over, out of mere curiosity, to where Saunders
had been sitting. Much to his surprise he found that he
had been sketching the Grosse Point Light House, and its
surroundings.
“Look here, Paul!” he shouted. “John has been tres-
passing on your field. Here is the first sketch of the
trip.”
The young men at once hastened to Stanley's side and
seeing the sketch had to recognize the ability of the
artist.
“ What sort of a colored man is that, Seth ? " asked
Parker, “a prodigy? I was surprised this morning at his
manner of speech, he seemed so intelligent.”
“And he is intelligent,” replied Stanley, “and I con-
fess that he is far better informed than I am. I often
think its a pity he isn't.white.” Then in a few words he
gave them a concise account of Saunder's history, as he
knew it. “That he had been unfortunate after leaving
college, for though well equipped as a civil engineer and
for other kinds of work, he could not find employment, so
I secured him a place at the store and he is getting along
finely.”


“There was a young colored man in my class at col-
lege,” said Fox, “and he was as smart as a whip, but I
don't consider a man a prodigy because he is learned
above the ordinary. With the volume and cheapness of
literature there is no excuse for ignorance in the most
humble home. However, I must get my material out after
luncheon and make a few sketches of the club houses and
scenery along the Flats that look like a mininiature
Venice."
“A Venice in the fact that it sits in the water that is
all,” replied Stanley.
Saunders and his art after this was given some atten-
tion. He and Fox made several sketches and gave to the
others as souvenirs of the trip, and he afterward copied
some for Stanley who thought it might be just the thing
to accompany his first letter to her.


43
CHAPTER VII.
Sunset rubies glistened in the western sky when the
yacht Sylvia arrived at Sand Beech. The next morning,
bright and early, they were under way again. At Mack-
inac they intended to stop two or three days then go to
Sault Ste. de Marie, which was then in the beginning of
its real estate boom, via the Detour Pass. Returning by
almost the same route and stopping wherever their fancy
struck them, for a day or two.
Meanwhile Stanley had found the time to write the
letter. He had thought of Miss Stone continually, and he
began to feel by this time that while one may run away
from the object of one's affections, the impressions made
on the heart cannot be eliminated at will. With him the
impression had deepened, and every recurring thought
seemed to add to its strength. He surmised that the
others suspected his attachment, for Parker had had the
boldness to speak of it once. In his own mind he con-
cluded that he was really in love and decided to let his
affections have full sway. Whether it was pure and last-
ing or merely ephemeral, the future would tell, and he
would be sure of its character first, before he made it
known to her. It should be no heartless flirtation, or toy-
ing conquest to be ruthlessly thrown aside should his
present notion forsake him, she seemed too confiding in the
simplicity of her manners for that. He would be sure
himself, then muster every energy to prove his sincerety.
He wrote to her in detail about the trip, and asked for


44
a reply on the plea, that he would be glad to hear from
home. When he had finished he gave the letter to Saun-
ders at Alpena, secretly, to post for him.
All were on deck as they approached Mackinac Island,
which rose like “a green house from out a silvery plane.”
Fort Mackinac with its white-washed walls and approaches
had the appearance of a feudal castle.
The Sylvia soon landed them at the wharf and they
were not long in making arrangements and getting ashore.
After inspecting Old Curiosity shop, they proceeded to find
the most romantic and suitable spot in which to pitch
their tent. As they walked along the hard gravelled walk,
under thick foliage,, past meadow, orchard and fields of
grain gently waving in the breeze, they all agreed in
thinking the island the most beautiful and romantic.
Once on the crest of a hill, that commanded the view for
quite a distance, they could see the beauties of this little
natural world unfold itself like a panorama. On one hill-
side a reaper plied its course around a field of wheat grad-
aully narrowing as the grain toppled on the receiving-
board and was pushed off for the binder. Over and over
went the combing rakes gently inclining the stalks of
wheat to the blade. In the valley stood the growing corn,
tall and straight, just putting forth its silk tasseling, look-
ing like the serried ranks of soldiers returning home with
the fruits of conquest. Across the valley, lazily feeding
in the shade of the orchard was the faithful milch cow,
filling herself from the abundance of clover that carpeted
the fields. In the distance nestled a farm house among
the trees rich with fruit, waiting for the autumnal ripen-
ing. Absorbed in the beauty of nature, for these young
men loved the beautiful and the romantic, they were silent
until Fox broke the stillness by saying: “ Wealth and


45
ease form a glamor which may be the rewards of city life;
but the riches of nature shaped by the hand of God is the
inheritance of the farmer. Here are fields unalloyed by
the hands of man, save to tickle it for the harvest. The
flowers that toil not neither do they spin, (Stanley started,
for the words used by Fox, reminded him of that evening
when he first saw her in the concert and of the song she
sung), and yet their beauty in their natural arrangement
exceeds all that the ingenuity of man had attempted by
reproduction.”
: "I have thought,” said Stanley, “that it must be a
siren that tempts the countryman from his home to the
squalid scenes of city life where employment is so uncer-
tain, and articles of food and fuel stand for so many bills
of Uncle Sam's “promises to pay.”
“But everyone doesn't stop to reason it out, in that
way,” protested Morgan. “Here we are with our minds
open and directed towards just the impression we are
receiving. The question of an early rising and an all
day's work under a beaming sun or in a heavy rain has
not entered into our calculation. This is why finely woven
theories are accepted as truths by those who have no
experience We know that the best theorizer is a man
with the least experience in the matter he has to deal
with.”
“Enough of that,” cried Parker, I came on this trip
for unalloyed pleasure, and I don't want you to paint for
me the dark side of life at this time.”
"I was only knocking out the foundation of the air
castles Paul and Seth were building."
“When a man gets beyond the point where castle
building ceases to be a pleasure, if not a profitable pas-
time, because he believes it breeds discontent; he must


46
close the gates of Paradise, for there, some believe, that
the wish supplies the want."
“But your castles,” remonstrated Morgan, “were to fit
other men's ideas. If they builded for themselves, it
might be different in every particular from what you have
pictured it.”
“ You talk like a philosopher,” said Parker, “Let us
get the points of the compass and see which side of the
island we are on.”
“Top side,” said Fox, “sun's at zenith.”
“Facetious,” grunted Parker. “But that's better than
Fred's harangue about human misery. If one wanted to
contemplate that, he should have remained in the city."
This was a corker, and drew out a round of “Ohs!”
followed by silence.
Mackinac Island, which is rock girt, is a delightful
summer resort and one of the most beautiful natural parks
to be found anywhere. It is within easy access of all the
attractions of Northern Michigan, and the few days spent
here, and in its vicinity by the young men, teemed with
incident and pleasure. Fishing in the lake, whose waters
around the island are so clear that the eye can see the bot-
tom at a great depth; lying in the shade reading, sketch-
ing from picturesque rocks that line the islands of the
northern shore, or in taking brief trips to St. Ignace, Che-
boygan, Petoskey, and other resorts. One of the most
interesting, novel and romantic trips that can be found
anywhere, is the island route to Petoskey. You go upon
crooked rivers and through lovely lakes, encircled by hills
covered with dense foliage, that form a ruggedness of out-
line decidedly picturesque; and over the bosom of the
water is a sheen peculiar to inland lakes that casts a
dreamy haze over all. You go among logs and booms,


48
the rosy light of the sunrise was distinctly visible, and
with a delight mingled with awe and wonder, they watched
the line of purple, red and gold speed across the heavens
driving before it the shadow of the night, until the sun,
like a great yellow ball, appeared from out Lake Huron
and caused lake and forest to glisten under its rays. In
the distance lay. the Les Cheneaux Islands; while to the
south, a mere speck upon the horizon, was a steamer from
whose stack the smoke rose in curls and floated like black
clouds toward the east. Turning their eyes to nearer
objects the beauties of the island opened to them in all
their loveliness. Beneath, the valley with its woods, its
farmhouses, its fields of grain; a little to the south, Sugar
Loaf Rock rose up like a sentinel in his line of duty.
Here and there a solitary pedestrian could be seen, who
like themselves was seeking the bracing air of the morn-
ing, and field hands going to their work. From yonder
farmhouse rose a thin blue curl of smoke; still further
south they could see the white-wasbed walls of the Fort.
Again looking eastward could be seen Arch Rock, a
natural bridge, and near by Cliffs and Robinson's Folly.
“I do not wonder that the Indians thought this island
to be the home of Manitou, or that Longfellow should
choose it with its wild Indian legends and their heroes,
and be able to weave them into verses so romantic as to
charm the world with their beauty and simplicity. Inspir-
ation to do or accomplish something more than the ordi-
nary seems to be in the air we breathe,” said Paul Fox,
breaking the silence.
“I feel like doing something in the ordinary,” said
Parker, “let us eat. Whether this appetite of mine is due
to the air we breathe or this early morning walk is a con-
undrum that doesn't detract from my desire to do."


:
CHAPTER VIII.
One afternoon during their stay at the Island, Stanley,
who was unable to banish Marjorie Stone from his
thoughts, left the others and went on board the Sylvia to
write to her. In his letter he said that he often wished
that she was one of the party so that she might partici-
pate in their enjoyment. He gave a minute account of
their pleasures, their trips to places of interest, and dilated
upon the excellence of the climate, claiming that its repu-
tation as a health resort had not been overrated. “In a
day or two,” he added, “the rest of the party might deter-
: mine they would go on to the “Soo" and then return."
Two nights before their departure to the Soo the
others, being tired from the day's tramp, turned in early.
Stanley, unable to sleep because of the many thoughts
that ran riot in his brain, went out for a walk. In the
course of his walk he found himself near Arch Rock.
This was a favorite spot of his. It was decidedly roman-
tic, and afforded an excellent view of the lake. It is inex-
plicable, yet true, that in our hours of unconsciousness of
our surroundings, the mind and even the steps revert to
things we love best, nor do they need a guide other than
an intuition that might be denominated one of the senses.
The moon was at its full at the time and cast a soft silvery
light, which falling upon the dancing ripples beneath,
created a coruscating splendor. The rippling waters


51
breaking like soft cadences upon the beach had a sooth-
ing effect upon him, while the ceaseless beating upon the
shore reminded him a great deal of the steady current of
thought going on in his own mind in regard to “ her." ;
Even as those waters, now so quietly splashing upon the
beach, dash when aroused, wave after wave, in impetuous
and"angry fury upon the shore, so to, at times in his mind,
was his love aroused, and thoughts tumultuous would
rush through his brain of doubt, fear and anger. Of anger
for the past, of fear and doubt whether the past would rise
up to cheat him of her. Now his thoughts were attuned
to the gentle flow beneath and the romance and quiet of
his surroundings affected him, and made his thoughts flow
in a calm and easy stream, as he analyzed his love for
“her” and considered his own unworthiness.
“I love her! I love her!” he repeated to himself, “ and
this separation from her and her influences only tells me
how deep and fervent my love is, and how unworthy I am
of her. She is so pure and innocent, while I-I have been
a rioter after pleasures, not with my own, but my father's
earnings. Not one penny that I enjoy is rightfully the
result of my own exertion. The days of youthful prepar-
ation for usefulness, and the opportunities I have had to
make a man of myself, I have slighted or neglected. I am
neither good, learned or capable, and yet I love and would
be loved. These qualities I know are not essential to love,
still for a man in my position of life they are essential to
perfect manhood. Whether love be a child of the head or
heart, I feel it awakening my energies to satisfy the long-
ing it creates. Since I have felt it, for the first time I
have been animated to action, and surely with one so noble
to cherish, it should change the whole course of my nature.
I feel the change. I will try to win her, and shall make


52
that one of my special objects when I return home. Were
it not that the boys were my guests, and it would be too
bad to spoil their pleasure by cutting the trip short, I
would start for Detroit to-morrow.”
Love had worked a great change in Stanley. From
seeking the society of a young lady, solely because she
pleased him and gratified his desire for pleasure, as other
pleasures had done, he now finds that society to be an
actual necessity. Love, too, was changing him for the
better. It was beginning to ennoble and uplift him. For,
instead of seeking after vain pleasures, he suddenly
became aware of the responsibilities of manhood and was
eager to prepare himself for such a life as an alliance with
a pure and lofty-minded young woman would demand.
There is a great deal of truth in the saying that love either
uplifts or debases, according to the character of the object
it sets its affections upon. Many through its influences
have been lifted up, and many worthy people, it has caused
to wallow in infamy.
Is not life, after all, a game of chance? Ought we, or
our surroundings, be responsible if our game be lost, and
as a result, instead of pursuing honorable lives, we become
infamous ?
Five days 'had passed in Mackinac and its vicinity
before they were ready to proceed on their way to the
“Soo.” These days had passed too slowly for Stanley,
who was anxious to return home, yet, in all their pleasures
he was the life of the party. He recognized that to cut
the time and trip short without some good excuse would
not only be discourteous, but attract attention to himself
in a way that he did not desire. So betwixt a smile and a
sigh he ordered preparations for an early start in the
morning, on the evening before.


53
Early next morning, the fires ready, Capt. Lake gave
the word. The anchor was weighed. The engine started.
The screw wheel fairly churned and lashed the water,
slowly at first, then like a thing of life, the Sylvia sped on
her journey.
When the young men came on deck, Mackinac in the
rear, was hardly visible, and abreast of them were the Les
Cheneaux Islands. Speeding at the rate of sixteen miles
per hour, it was not long before the Sylvia entered St.
Mary's river through the Detour Pass. There are numer-
ous little islands in the river many of which are utilized
by fishing and hunting clubs. Along its course there are
also many popular summer resorts. As they proceeded
up the river they were surprised at the number of broad
straits and little lakes through which they passed. Along
the banks on either side, rising from the water's edge were
high cliffs which shut in the river and lent to the scenery
a rugged beauty. Fox and Saunders got out their sketch-
ing utensils, and busied themselves in endeavoring to
depict some of its views, while the others gathered around
them, watched their progress, and commented on the dif-
ferent phases of scenery.
The channel of the river is narrow, crooked and shal-
low, and the trip is usually made by daylight. Capt. Lake,
however, was an old sailor, and knew all the crooks and
turns, the ins and outs, the most attractive spots and the
prettiest islands, and in his bluff, hearty way took pleasure
in pointing out the places of interest, and stopping when
they wanted to explore any particular spot. He further
told them, as their time was limited, at some future time
he would like to take them on a trip to the pictured rocks.
- off the up-channel course.
After a pleasant days ride, they arrived at the “Soo."


55
on that yacht, there was not a soul more joyous, no person
more active and buoyant in spirit than he, when the little
vessel turned its prow homeward, none were more agreea-
ble or bristled with more humor.
Speed little bark, and cleave the water rapidly in your •
onward rush. Engineer keep your fires going, the boilers
full, the engine well oiled, the throttle open. Rapidly the
Sylvia glided through the water, and Stanley with pleasure
noted its speed. At Alpena he received a letter from
Marjorie. It was not lengthy, a mere acknowledgment of
his own, and the sketches he had sent, and expressing the
hope that he was having a splendid time. It was not
much, but it transported him with happiness, and he fairly
bubbled over with humor and reminiscences of former
trips; of persons he had met and things he had seen. Is
it strange that he was thus moved ? What lover has not
been thrilled with the first lines he has received from his
lady-love? What ecstasy lies in every word the fair hand
has traced? How often has it been re-read and how often
kissed?


CHAPTER IX.
While Stanley and his friends were enjoying their
outing, Marjorie heard of many stories concerning him
that would have rendered him uneasy had he known of it.
Her uncle, Mr. Durham, had told her many episodes of
his past life, not that he wished to create in her mind an
unfavorable opinion, but as a mere matter of having an
interesting tale to tell, interspersed with reminiscences of
his own boyish pranks. He little suspected what an inter-
esting listener he had. Once when relating a little story
where his goodness of heart was made manifest, Mrs. Dur.
ham said, “Yes, he is a good hearted boy, but he has been
wild. I remember his conduct used to so worry his
mother, and he never seemed to imagine he was doing
wrong. It could not be said that he was mean or wilful,
but he was certainly wayward and fickle. He never
seemed to care for anything longer than to know what it
was. His experience in business has been the same.”
"But, Auntie, do you not think Mr. Stanley has
changed a great deal,” interrupted Marjorie.
“He seemed very different the evening he took tea
with us, but I hardly think he is through sowing his wild
oats yet," said Mrs. Durham.
“When he is through he will be all the better for it,"
said Mr. Durham.
"That is the way you men look at it," retorted Mrs.
Durham.


When she said this, she had not the least suspicion of
the reason that actuated Marjorie's question, for she
thought that because of Maxwell's persistent and constant
attentions, he would be her accepted suitor. She did not
know that Marjorie did everything she could, without
being rude, to discourage his attentions. His effeminate,
and dudish ways seemed to overlap and cover up, his good
qualities. She had contrasted Stanley and Maxwell the
evening they had met at her own home, and Stanley's
sinewy form, easy manners, and enthusiasm, that seemed
to show that his soul was in all that he did, contrasted
favorably with anything she had been able to discern in
Maxwell.
After a moment's reflection upon Mrs. Durham's opin-
ion, she said, “Gossip is not as charitable as law; for law
gives man the benefit of a doubt, while gossip seeks a
doubt to establish the truth of its reports."
“Girl like, girl like,” said Mr. Durham, rubbing his
fat hands together. “They won't allow their gallant
knights to be abused, guilty or not guilty."
“I am not passing on his guilt or innocence,” retorted
Marjorie, “I was speaking of the uncharitableness of
gossip. Men outgrow youthful follies as they outgrow
other childish things.”
“To him that is pure all things are pure," said Mr.
Durham somewhat absent mindedly. “Shall I say you
are fortunate or unfortunate in that you have two such
extremes for beaux as Stanley and Maxwell?”
“Say I am both and you about have the truth of it.
Could I cement their two characters together and blend
them harmoniously, I should have a man of my liking."
“It is too bad that men are not made to order, so as to
save the women the trouble of remodeling them as soon


58
as they get them. Why, Mrs. Durham isn't through with
me yet.” And Mr. Durham cast a side glance at his wife
and chuckled.
“I am not quite satisfied with my work on Mr. Dur-
ham,” said Mrs. Durham with a sigh, “ but gossip has
nothing to do with Seth's case, for many of his shortcom-
ings have come directly under the observations of many.
Yet possibly under pressure he may develop what good
there is in him."
Marjorie said no more on this subject as she did not
want to appear too interested. She had dispatched a letter
to Stanley, and had invited him to call on his return.
From his actions she had noticed that he had at least a
regard for her which she reciprocated. She was not satis-
fied with Mrs. Durham's remarks about him. She knew,
however, that despite them Mrs. Durham had a warm
corner in her heart for him for his mother's sake, and that
liking Marjorie wished to fan into a stronger feeling, or
it. might be necessary for her friendship with him to come
to a standstill. Until late that night she thought over
what she had heard, resolving to inquire further. Call it
hypnotism or what you may, we often tempt fate inviting
knowledge that we know will bring suffering and pain,
while we rebel at the narration of it.
Marjorie's father was a traveling agent, consequently
away from home much of the time, but she resolved to find
if possible her mother's views on the subject.
On the first convenient occasion she mentioned him in
connection with his trip, and showed her the sketches he
had sent. From that she skillfully led the conversation
until she had her mother's estimate of him and his char-
acter. She was agreeably surprised to find that her
mother, while she deprecated the past, was disposed to do


59
him justice, and admit that his chances to retrieve the past
were good. She cited many instances of men, who, to her
knowledge had been reckless in their youth, yet had
developed into men of strong characters. Mrs. Stone's
great aim in life was to try to be just, and, while she
deplored evil, she covered a great deal with the mantle of
charity. While she did not condone or excuse it, she
reasoned that under better and more favorable circum-
stances the result might have been different. These prin-
ciples she had carefully instilled into her daughter, and as
we have seen, with success.
“Isn't it the exception instead of the rule,” said Mar-
jorie, bending her earnest eyes intently on her mother,
“ that a man who has spent his early years in riotous liv.
ing turns out to be sober and steady?”
“ I would not say that,” replied Mrs. Stone, looking at
Marjorie in return, who flushed a little under her gaze.
“ It depends largely on circumstances. I must admit the
chances are against a man who has wealth, and has been
pampered and flattered even in his vices. This heedless
way in which people go into ecstacies over position for
favors and recognition, spoil more lives than it helps.”
“Do you think Mr. Stanley has acquired such vices,
and that they are so deep seated as to be always a part of
him?” asked Marjorie.
“Oh, no! I was only speaking generally, but you know
that our animal, or what is ordinarily termed our natural
inclinations, tend to make us like the brute, it is our cul-
tivated faculties that lift us above these inclinations.
Character is like a tender precious plant, the weeds should
be kept down when it is growing or it is liable to be
dwarfed."
Marjorie sat musing over this last proposition, and her


mother letting the conversation drop, busied herself with
her crocheting,
The relation between mother and daughter were those
of confidents; hence their lives seemed to be centered in
each other, and their thoughts, from their associations ran
in almost the same groove. The daughter had never been
called upon to exercise her judgment in matters of much
moment, for she had always relied upon her mother's
judgment. The mother in her turn constantly consulted
her daughter, more frequently than she probably would
have done owing to Mr. Stone's absence. It did not at
first occur to Mrs. Stone that there was anything more
than a passing commentary on events, things and persons
in her daughter's questioning. But when Marjorie con-
tinued them, it aroused her suspicions, and intuition led
her mind back to the evening when Stanley had called,
and the interest Marjorie had shown in him. The intent
of the inquiry was revealed to her, but her inherent love
of justice made her deal as fairly with him afterward, as
she could. She did not desire that Marjorie should
become strongly attached to Stanley, until he had shown
that he was worthy of her. Above all things she desired
her happiness, and she knew to a great degree there was
that in his manner, and enthusiastic action that would
captivate a girl of her daughter's temperament, and that
he had qualities, now dormant, that would contribute to
her happiness, if the interest between the two should
develop into love. Unlike Mrs. Durham, she knew that
the bond between Maxwell and her daughter was not
strong, owing to the vast difference in temperaments.
Mrs. Stone possessed a great deal of tact and did not
reveal the thoughts that passed through her mind to Mar-
jorie. Neither was she at all anxious as to the outcome


of the relation between Stanley and Marjorie, because she
had faith in Marjorie's strength of purpose and character,
and knew that she would not contract an alliance with an
unworthy person, though she loved them dearly, and suf-
fered in consequence of refusal.
Marjorie felt some doubt in her mind in consequence
of her talks with Mrs. Durham and her mother as to her
future relations with Stanley. Though she was pleased
with him, certain expressions he had made use of when in
her company she did not like. What did he mean by
being half made up in character? Was it the conscious-
ness of what he had lost or a bold confession of his weak-
ness? In her experience she had met foolhardy bragga-
docios who prided themselves in certain shortcomings,
rather than being ashamed of them. Which was it in
Seth's case ?
In this frame of mind she busied herself with church
matters, for she was a prominent active factor in all the
ladies aids and charitable societies connected with their
church. As is usually the case, the burden of the work in
all such societies falls upon a few, while the others are
content to look on, to criticise the failures, and to applaud
and demand a share in the successes. Experience and
willingness had developed in her a tact for such work.
This with her general reading and music, had occupied
her time profitably. Little thought being given to beaux,
except when in company with other young ladies they
fell to discussing them.
* * *
Maxwell, as if alarmed at the sudden appearance of
Stanley as a rival, and the interest he saw that Marjorie
exhibited in him had been paying assiduous attention to
her in his peculiar way. Despite his tendency toward the


62
genus dude he had some attractions which commended
him to the graces of the fair sex. With strangers he was
quiet and unobstrusive, but he was one of those characters
that improve on acquaintance. He read a great deal, was
well informed on many subjects, and when interested he
surprised a great many by his extensive knowledge and
clear thought; because they did not expect such things to
emanate from one of his appearance. He was also a fairly
successful business man, had no disgusting habits, and a
character that was above reproach. These qualities
accounted for his being so intimate a friend, and so fre-
quent a caller upon the Stones, and his company endured
by a young lady of Marjorie's attainments. The frequency
of his calls and the knack he had of outstaying the other
young men gave the impression, which Mrs. Durham pos-
sessed, that Marjorie and he were engaged. With his
other qualities had he possessed the vivacity and earnest-
ness of Stanley, he would have so inserted himself into
her good graces that the wooing that Stanley had deter-
mined upon, would be in vain. In his attitude toward her
now, while redoubling his attentions, he was backward and
shy. While loving, he was too timid to express it in action
or words sufficiently strong to attract her attention.
While by his sighs and uneasy postures, the upward
glancing and rolling of his eyes gave her the impression
that he was unwell. He endeavored to interest himself
more in her charitable work, read up on the foibles of the
day that were attractive to the gentler sex, bought expen-
sive works on pottery, which was then in its craze, and
became an authority in discussing Palissys Severes, tiles,
etc. He studied the language of the flowers and often sent
her boquets significant of his love for her. His dress was
scrupulously neat, his eye glass always glistened, hats in


63'
13
the latest styles, and his canes the envy of all the dudes.
Sometimes he and Marjorie would go out for a stroll in
the evening, and under pale Luna's influence he would
become inexpressibly tender in manner, but the words of
affection hesitated upon his lips.
· Once, when engaged in looking over a work on pottery
he had sent her, their hands touched and a thrill went
through him like an electric shock. All his passions were
aroused, his tender regard and deep feeling. His fingers
and lips twitched convulsively in his great effort to muster
his courage and find his voice. His story was nearly told.
“Marjorie,” he said, ready to drop upon his knees. She
turned, surprised at the tone of his voice, and with a look
of wonder in her eyes. The story remained untold, the
words died upon his lips, the calm passionless face that
turned on him such surprise, was too much for him. His
wits did not, however, desert him and he feigned a sudden
illness. Marjorie was anxious and interested at once, for
while she did not love she did esteem him, and she would
have gone immediately for some simple remedy to afford
him relief. He would not however, permit her and claimed
that he felt better. In his excuses, she was as desirous as
he that he should think her ignorant of the real cause of
his manner.
That evening he left her presence much earlier than
usual. On his way home he did what many another man
has done under far less embarrassing circumstances. He
felt like dashing his head against a stone wall, or having
some one kick him for letting the bright eyes of the girl
he loved turn him from his purpose. To think that he
lacked the words and sentiment when most needed that
now so freely rushed through his mind, to tell his love and
plead for a return of affection was heart rending. He


berated himself soundly for his timidity, and he wondered
if she when she looked at him thought he was the con-
summate idiot he then believed himself to be, or whether
she believed in his faintness. If she did believe in that,
and the interest was real that she manifested, the thought
was intoxicating, and he at once began to plan what to say
and do the next time. Only when the time came to find
all his thoughts and plans forgotten and himself com-
pletely routed, and no more able to declare his love than
before. Still he continued his visits, planned and devised
means for her pleasure, and hoped.


66
TO
SWT,
at Boston, and through her she was kept well informed of '
the principal events happening in her absence. Miss
Aikman, who was lively and vivacious, but not at all silly,
formed quite a contrast to Marjorie, whose manner was
more dignified and thoughtful. She was one of those
girls that seemed to invite confidences, was pleasant and
agreeable to all, and always willing to do some one a favor.
As a consequence most of her gentlemen friends were half
in love with her, and all held themselves in readiness to
obey her slightest mandates. It was a rare thing that on
a pleasant evening, not that her friends were fair weather's
only, her parlors did not contain more than one gentleman
caller. She was rather pretty, not any taller than Mar-
jorie, but a little heavier in build i
One warm afternoon about a couple of days before the
return of the Sylvia, Marjorie, desiring to spend the after-
noon on the river, called by for “Flo." to see if she would
not go with her. She readily complied and thither they
wended thcir way. They were soon comfortably seated
on one of the ferries that ply their way to and from the
Island Park, and enjoying all the ease and comfort, these
little trips afford on a hot summer day. In their conversa-
tion they encompassed nearly every subject that ladies
like to talk about, of the last Kettle drum given by Mrs.
Raliegh; or the reception to be given by Mrs. Manton to
Governor and Mrs. Fast; of toilet, of what they were going
to wear, of the latest most fashionable fabrics displayed
by the merchants on the avenue over their counters; of
Marjorie's progress in music, of the latest fads, patch-
work and of the latest novels.
“Have you read Ben Hur yet, Margy?"
“Yes, I just finished it last week."
“How did you like it?”



67
“Ever so much. I was deeply interested in it. Ben
Hur's wanderings, hair breadth escapes and thrilling
adventures with their numerous perils, and the incidents
in the life of Christ, and the crucifixion are so graphically
pictured.”
“ While the strange meeting of the Egyptian, Hindoo
and Greek, the strange story they tell in their search for
the truth, the invisible Supreme God, the command given
to each in a dream to follow the guiding star to the scene
of the incarnation are full of interest. While their arrival
at Bethlehem, then thronged with people going up to
Jerusalem, the incidents in the khan, the strange, mystical
light that lit up the vicinity and hovered over one of the
outhouses, that so excited, alarmed and awed the early
morning worshippers, but which revealed to the travellers
the place where our Lord was born, are events so well told
that while they may not add anything new to what is
chronicled in the gospels, yet certainly clothe them in a
novel and attractive garb. It also gives one an idea of the
customs of that time, and makes to me, at least, that event
clearer.”
** Yes," added Marjorie, "books like Ben Hur, that are
based on historical events are certainly great helps in the
study of history, for they invest dull facts with the pleas-
ing dress of romance, and many become acquainted with
them who would not otherwise pore over dusty details.
But, by the way, what was the opinion of the club in
regard to our American novelists, Howell and James.
You know that I was unable to be present at the meet-
ing."
“Well, it was rather unsatisfactory, although it was
generally conceded that they were the greatest of our nov-
elists. Some were of the opinion that James was too


68
analytical, and others that Howell was too prosy; yet while
most of them thought that their novels were models of
realism, they did not think that their style would meet the
acceptation of the masses. For in action and love, their
characters were tame, every-day sort of people, and but
served as a glass in which one sees himself reflected.
They said that people read novels because they desire
something out of the ordinary life.”
“Then they thought feeling one thing, and action
another. The heroic age has passed in fact, but not in
| ideal. Passions, ambitions and sorrows are just as strong
now as ever except in those who have made listlessness a
life cultivation, or are incapable of being moved. Now, a
person who raves about all that they feel, would be con-
sidered a bore, and dubbed a crank. One's manner, in
these days of propriety, is no index to their souls.”
“Propriety is good in its place. It often acts as a
brake on one's passions,” replied Flora, “when the first
crude and ill considered thoughts rush to the mind. First
thoughts are not always wise, for they seldom spring from
reason. However, taking my limited observation and
experience as a criterion, I believe people who possess the
finer senses live beyond that which they exhibit to their
fellows.”
“That is very true,” said Marjorie, " for life itself is a
succession of struggles and aspirations for something just
beyond our reach, and life generally ends with it just
beyond. Our ambitions prompt us to do something bet-
ter than our neighbors; and to surpass some one else in
some particular vocation. There is a desire to be loved
better, or a wish to be regarded as brighter, shrewder,
abler and more intelligent than our fellows. For myself,
if I should have a husband, I should like one whose love


69
would not be tame, but fervid and glowing, deep and all
pervading. In this respect I fear I am like those who fail
to appreciate the realistic novel.”
“Then Maxwell would not suit you."
“No! But he is misjudged, poor fellow. Under the
countenance so blank, except to his friends, and that
dudish exterior, are hidden excellent qualities and a mind
that is well trained and well informed.”
The sacred passions of men were not to be made light
of by Marjorie, and she refrained from telling her most
intimate friend of Maxwell's attempt at proposing to her.
• What do you think of young Harper?"
“ The incarnation of frankness, an excellent friend, who
as you know is engaged to Carrie Lambert."
Flora then went over a list of eligible men of their
acquaintance, but all failed in some respects to satisfy.
Marjorie's ideal, at length she asked her to describe him.
“ Before I do so," replied Marjorie, " I must say that I
think this catechism is all on one side. Let me ask your
opinion of Walter Rogers and the relation he bears to
your ideal.”
It was a palpable hit, but Flóra was equal to the occa-
sion. “He is a fine fellow, but then you know my relation
to the young men. They like me, som e half adore me
but seldom get above that. It would seem that I have but
little chance for the fulfillment of my ideal. You see they
get too confident, and tell me all their little troubles, looking
for advice. In fact they regard me in a platonic relation
only. I am a confirmed old maid.” (Flora was only
twenty-three). “Now, for your ideal.”
“Well, I guess that would be rather difficult to
describe. In his personal appearance I should like him
to be handsome above the ordinary, tall, courteous and


70
refined in his manners, and of course gallant; earnest and
enthusiastic in what he undertakes, and of strong individ.
uality. In temper I should like him to be firm, yet gentle,
a man of great purposes, and noble. I should like him to
be well educated, well informed, and have a well-balanced
mind. I should like him to be an appreciator of nature,
and one who could look from nature to nature's God.”
“ Anything else ?” remarked Flora, who had been listen-
ing intently and thinking.
“Oh, yes! I should like him to be well up in music, for
you know I am devoted to it, and should like to keep up
the study, and I think it would be so much easier to keep
up the study if he possessed a love for it."
“I don't suppose an angel would be out of place, if he
was only affable and dealt with terrestial subjects" laughed
Flora. “These goody-goody fellows were never made to
be husbands to mortals. They smile sparingly. think it a
sin to laugh aloud and are always out of tune with every-
body and everything. You are laying plans to be an old
maid too,” and Flora marked her last words off with her
index finger as if to give them emphasis."
Marjorie laughed and replied, “ that does not neces-
sarily follow. Now, really, haven't you known people who
came almost up to your ideal?”
Flora had to acknowledge that she had, then after
thinking a moment said: “Lately I have seen Mr. Seth
Stanley occasionally in your company."
“Yes, I met him for the first time at the concert given
for the sexton's family, and afterwards at Uncle Durham's.”
* Do you like him ?”
“As a man, yes,” replied Marjorie simply; "for he is
80 earnest, enthusiastic and courteous, that I could not


help doing so. He is fond of music, too, and has an excel-
lent voice."
“Then he has some of the essentials of your ideal, but
have you not thought that this liking him as a man might
develop into something stronger ?”.
“Why, Flo., you know the reputation he has, don't
you?"
“Reputation!” said Flora, contemptuously “Reputa-
tion. What is it? Nothing of any consequence to a man,
but everything to a woman. A man may wallow in the
mire, reform and afterwards become conspicuous in society
and be honored and respected. Circumstances are not
rare where men with worse reputations than Stanley's
have became as active in pursuing honorable lives as they
formerly did dishonorable ones. Besides, his recklessness,
I have heard some friends say, is due more to his thought-
lessness than to malicious instincts, and that his offenses
against society have grown in proportion as gossip has
repeated them. He is said by some to be kind, generous
and courteous to a high degree, and they cannot believe
that one who watches as carefully over his young sister is
utterly devoid of good moral principles. A change they
say has been noticeable in him, and for the past two
months society has had no fresh escapade of his to talk
about. I know that Fox, Morgan and Parker would not
be so intimate with him were he as bad as represented.
They are up the lakes now.”
“I know it,” said Marjorie. “I have received a letter
from him, and copies of some views sketched by his,
steward.”
“Oh!” said Flora, with a look of surprise, then added
quickly, “ you were sketching from real life then when you.


enumerated so glibly some of the very qualities he pos-
sessed. What say you, my lady?”
“He has some, it is true," replied Marjorie after a
pause.
“He only lacks some great incentive to possess them
all,” said Flora vigorously, “and I predict that that incen-
tive will soon be found if he continues to seek your society.
But come, let us go, it grows late.”
“You think you have guessed it exactly now, don't
you? So you are willing to close the conversation and seal
the seals thereof. You are wrong nevertheless. One or
two visits do not make a match any more than one swallow
makes a spring.”
“That is all right, the one swallow only precedes the
others, likewise the visits.”
Marjorie then remembered her invitation for him to
call and she felt her color rising.
“ Don't blush, Margy. Honest love is legitimate, and -
we all do it, although we ever deny it. Another of the
conventionalities or proprieties. I believe it is one of the
old fellow's agencies of sin.”
The club, of which the young ladies talked about in
relation to novels and novelists, was one of young ladies,
called the “ Nineteenth Century Club.” They met fort-
nightly, and one of their special purposes was to familiar-
ize themselves with authors and their works. They were
quite thorough in their work. They did not disdain the
events of the day, for another of their features was the
dicussion of home and foreign news, and some of them,
without doubt, were much better informed of the trend of
events and the causes which led up to them than many
men who pride themselves on their general intelligence
and information. On the birthdays of certain authors,


75
3*,
of spirit, enjoyed pleasure, and appreciated the natural
beauties of life. While waiting between “ bites," for the
first time their personal appearances attracted their atten-
tion. Excellent air, vigorous appetites, and a broiling
sun had all done efficient work. All were well tanned and
looked the picture of health, while each had added several
pounds to his weight. Fox with his stooped shoulders.
seemed to have acquired a greater breadth of chest, and
his naturally serious look was missing.
The appearance of the others seemed to have struck a
comical vein in each, for they commenced to chaff one
another.
“Give Seth a buckskin suit and a few feathers” said
Parker, “and he would look like an Indian fresh from a
reservation.”
“Well then,” replied Stanley, “what I escaped as a
boy I am receiving now-a little tanning."
“Smart! aren't you?" said Morgan. “Some new influ-
ence has taken possession of you these last two days, for
before at times you have seemed as dreamy as a poet.
What potent power has worked the change?”.
“The most potent power I know of," interrupted Fox,
“is a good appetite, a clear conscience and healthful sleep,
Seth has two, at least, of these essentials."
“While the third naturally follows as the result of the
other two,” said Stanley. “Besides to judge from appear-
ances all have succumbed to some magic influence, for you
seem ruddier, brighter, wittier, and look more healthy than
when we left home.”
“Flatterer, a new way to turn a joke," said Morgan, as
if reading a definition from Webster.
1. “You are a jocose lad," said Parker.
“Humph! after that we had better go ashore. Per-


76
haps there may be found metal more attractive for your
display of wit.”
“A witless task we may find it,” said Fox.
“But, hello!” Parker exclaimed, “here comes the
Idlewild through the canal. There may be some friends
aboard, some ladies. That would be metal more attrac-
tive.”
“A few more fish suppers would make you unbear-
able,” said Fox.
“ For such a bare assertion, thanks."
There was a quick movement of an arm over the sur-
face of the water, a scoop and a handful or more flew
directly at the punster, which he dodged only by a quicker
movement and the water struck Morgan, who was busily
engaged in watching the steamer, back of his neck and
ran down his back in a manner that caused him almost to
jump out of the boat. His caperings made the others
shriek with laughter.
“What are you idiots laughing about? There is no fun
in a lot of water running down a fellow's back,” growled
Morgan.
“I am, ha! ha! ha! laughing at the, ha! ha! ha! warm
and startled reception you, ha! ha! ha! gave the water,"
shrieked Parker, between bursts of laughter.
“Seeing that you like it so well have some,” said
Morgan, as he directed a handful at Parker that flew into
the latter's face and open mouth, ran down his throat, and
catching him unprepared almost choked him, and changed
his peals of laughter to a fit of coughing
“ Who laughs last laughs best,” said Morgan. He was
satisfied and chuckled to himself all the way as they rowed
to the landing.
None of their friends happened to be aboard the .


steamer, which was another disappointment, so they went
on board the Sylvia in order to reach home early, and
Capt. Lake gave the orders that sent the Sylvia again
homeward.
“ A fellow can't expect the earth and four dollars all at
once,” commented Parker, partly to himself and partly to
the others. “We have had a good time if we haven't
seen the dear creatures for nearly a month.”
“I am glad to see you extract some comfort out of the
situation like a true philospher, particularly so after your
attempt to swallow the river. You may catch a mermaid
before we get home,” said Fox.
“No! He will catch the mere maid after he gets
home,” replied Morgan.
The others, as Fox afterward put it, sunk down in
despair until Morgan should sober up.
Stanley recovering from the transports of happiness
into which the receival of Marjorie's letter had thrown
him began again an eager scrutiny of the same to see if he
could not find some word, thought or phrase that would
indicate to him a line of action by which he might hope to
win her, but in vain. The calm demeanor, the earnest
sensible talk that characterized her when in his presence
seemed stamped upon the written page. Thus left to his
own resources for the rest of the trip he began to form and
reform plans which he proposed to inaugurate in pushing
forward his suit.
Reaching Detroit, hurried orders were given to Capt.
Lake concerning the Sylvia, and to John Saunders as to
their luggage. Then they hastened ashore and to their
several homes.
Imogene, who had been expecting her brother for the


78
past two or three days, was watching for him. She heard
his steps and rushed to the door.
“Oh, Seth!” she exclaimed, “I am awful glad you
have come back. It has been very lonesome here without
you. I have had no one to go out with, and have only had
Kitsey and Jack (the names of her cat and pug), to spend
the evenings with. My! she continued, as she took his
hat and had a clearer view of his face in the bright gas
light, how tanned you are."
“And how tickled you are."
! “You mean fellow, to talk like that when you have been
· gone so long, and I have been so lonesome.”
Stanley placed one hand upon her head, another under
her chin, then kissed the upturned face and lips. Then
handing her a satchel said: “Here, Puss! You will find
something in this to pay you for past loneliness.”
He had been very attentive to his sister of late. He
could see her budding into womanhood without the influ-
ence of a mother to guide and direct her, and with a father
so occupied with business cares that he gave but little
time to her, so he had become her confidant and adviser.
Since his acquaintance with Marjorie Stone, his care and
love for his sister had become more marked. He would
have liked her to be as much as possible like that young
lady, and he so tried to direct and influence her thoughts.
He perhaps made a better mentor from the fact that he
had led a life that was a little reckless and knew what
temptation lay in the way of a young girl, and how she
could best be protected.
While Stanley went to his room, Imogene opened up
the satchel and found the duplicate sketches that he had
had Saunders prepare, together with a number of Indian


79
relics and curiosities he had purchased at Mackinac
Island.
When she had examined them she took them to Mrs.
Burwell, an elderly and refined lady who had served them
for a number of years as housekeeper, to show them to her.
After Mrs. Burwell had adjusted her spectacles and had
examined them for a while, Imogene asked: “Don't you
think they are nice? Seth had John Saunders, the book-
keeper at the store, to draw them for me.”
“I didn't know that he could do such nice work.
These sketches show considerable skill. I suppose Mr.
Seth is quite tired.”
“I guess he is. You would hardly know him. He
must have gained at least ten pounds, and he is almost as
dark as John. When he comes down stairs he is going to
tell me all about it," and she tripped out of the room with
a light heart and a light step as she thought of the pleas-
ure she would have in having her brother at home again
for an evening, and listening to his tale of pleasure and
fun, told as only he could tell it. She was very proud of
that brother of hers.
Shortly after Stanley came down, and while she sat
down on a low stool at his feet devouring him with her
eyes, he narrated the chief incidents of the trip, and
described some of the beautiful scenery they had witnessed,
she all the while busy plying him with questions.
During their conversation, their father came in, and
after greeting him, said, “Well Seth, you are back. I
suppose you have enjoyed yourself.”
“Yes, father, I certainly did, and now I am ready to
try to settle down to business and give you a chance to
rest yourself, for you certainly need it.”
“I was thinking of going down east for a few days after


80
a while, and since you have expressed a desire to settle
down, I will put you in harness at once so I can turn
affairs over to you when I go."
They talked away, these three, until bed time, Stanley
enthusiastically over the trip up the lakes, and afterwards
patiently listening to his father when he read him a lec-
ture upon the necessity of setling down. He also men-
tioned during their conversation, several matters he
desired that Seth should give immediate attention to.
While now and then Iomgene would break in upon their
talk by asking a question, and declaring that next time she
must go “as she didn't intend that the boys should have all
the fun.”
On the following day he commenced his duties at the
store, trying to master all the details in a day, and
between the labor and the heat of the day he was quite
tired in the evening. However he had made the resolu-
tion, and had shut his teeth down hard upon it. Many of
his father's clerks he found were far more proficient than
he, but he thought what they had mastered, he could, and
consequently stuck close to his duty during the entire day
and for several succeeding days.


82
Paul Fox and John Saunders, a colored clerk at the store,
who accompanied us in the capacity of general handy man.”
“I should like to see them,” said Mr. Stone rising and
joining in their conversation. “I heard Fred Douglass
lecture while I was East and I consider him a prodigy,
for he is certainly the equal of any white man I have ever
heard lecture. He is one of the few old style impassioned
orators that are left us, whose elegant and rounded periods
used to so thrill the people. If you have discovered
another prodigy among the race I would like to see him
or some of his work."
Marjorie handed him the sketches, and while he was
carefully examining them, the general conservation flowed
on, on different subjects. When he had finished he asked,
“Is this a mere gift the fellow possesses, or is his general
intelligence in keeping with his work in this line? ".
“He is an old school and college mate of mine,"
answered Stanley, “but he finished his course while I did
not. I think 'him exceptionally learned and intelligent,
besides having a large stock of common sense to draw
from."
“Has tact as well as talent,” said Mr. Stone.
“Why, papa,” said Marjorie. “ You must remember
that our public schools are making many intelligent and
refined colored boys and girls. I suppose it was different
when you were a school boy. One of my classmates, a
colored girl, once loaned me a volume of poems written by
a black girl named Phyllis Wheatley, who lived in the
time of Washington. It contained a translation of
Homer's Odessey, with a personal note from the Father of
his country, congratulating her on its merits.”
Mr. Stone said no more, but laid the sketches aside, to
again entertain Maxwell. Maxwell's father was a jeweler,


83
and he was a partner in the firm. Mr. Stone being a
traveling man they commenced to talk business and trade,
while the others conversed on society, music and travels.
So pleasant did the time speed away that Stanley was
scarcely conscious of it, and with a feeling akin to dismay
he saw on glancing at the clock that stood on the
mantle that he had made his call as long as possible,
without having had the opportunity to listen to that
divine voice. Maxwell as usual outstayed him. And as
usual he remained but for a few moments after the other
had left. This peculiarity had often vexed Marjorie and
had caused her parents to smile. “Maxwell, as usual is
bound to have the last word,” laughed her father.
In the solitude of their own chamber Mr. Stone said to
his wife, “I do not like the idea of young Stanley being
on intimate terms with Marjorie, He is given to much to
pleasure seeking, and his reputation is none of the best.
There is contamnation in the society of the vicious."
"Do not fear for her," replied his wife. “Marjorie's
principles of right and wrong are rooted, and influence all
with whom she comes in contact.
“I don't rely so much on well formed principles,” said
Mr. Stone, "when there is love in the case. You know the
old story, of how it paints only the best side."
“How absurd you talk,” said Mrs. Stone impatiently,
“ Marjorie is surely not head over heels in love with that
fellow yet.”
You can't tell how soon she will be, he is comely,
fairly educated, good prospects and devilish winning. I
must acknowledge. You could see the difference between
him and Maxwell at a glance, and one would not be long
in saying Stanley was the more preferable.”
“ Marjorie is acquainted with his career and I have no


84
doubt but that she has her eyes open, and I don't want
you to bother her with your apprehensions until you have
occasion."
Mr. Stone gave a surprised whistle which he turned
' into a Mikado” air to the tune of “Here's a Pretty
Mess," and said no more.
Stanley on his way home, tried to figure out Maxwell's
relations to Marjorie, and in that light to figure out his
own chances for success, but he could arrive at no satisfac-
tory conclusion. “He is a confounded bore at any rate,”
he muttered to himself rather savagely. “He seems to be
there every night in the week and sits like a bump on a
log. If this is to be a contest, I'll make him show his
colors, if such a thing is possible.” Then he again fell to
speculating on his chances, and rapidly his mind ran over
all the conversation, and the different phases it assumed,
to find some loop hole that would give him a clue. He
could find none. She hadn't exhibited anything in her
manner that she would not have shown to anyone who had
a pleasant tale to tell. He was in a quandary over more
than one question, and like all men of his temperament,
who are truly in love, he was somewhat chagrined. The
object to be gained had become precious in his sight,
while the attainment was not at all sure; but it awakened
in him a determination to overcome if possible all difficul-
ties that lay between him and its accomplishment.
Obstacles only serve to whet the ambitions of some men and
spur them to greater action. In many instances before, his
wealth and prospective position in life, had brought
around him many flippant flatterers, a number of whom
possessed more wealth than Marjorie was heir to. His
father had humored him, his sister made him her ideal,
and young men of his age had courted him because of his


85
means and tact in improvising plans for pleasure. Hence
it is not at all surprising, that despite his determination to
try to win he was at the same time disappointed at what
he thought was slow progress. In that respect he was an
overgrown child spoiled by his surroundings, intoxicated
by his successes, and just beginning to sober up on exper-
ience. The most costly and precious things in life that come
easy are not valued as highly as the mere commonplaces
that cost thought and anxiety. Stanley was realizing this
to its full capacity. Wealth, luxury and ease had come to
him without thought. Now he found himself the slave of
a sentimental passion that summoned every mental force.
If he had had the power, however, to look into the mind
and heart of the object of his love, he would have
found that her regard for him was warm, and the basis of
it was the good she had discovered in him, and not for his
wealth or position in life.
With Parker a few evenings later he called on Miss
Mabel Downing, a young lady on — street, that he had
often seen with his companion. She was tall, stately and
quite beautiful, not very long a resident of the city, and
he at once began to contrast her with Marjorie Stone.
She was a woman of fashion, bright, vivacious and very
often witty. Just the qualities that met Parker's appro-
bation. She loved to dwell on fashionable topics, the
delights of splendor and the achievements of men.
Although handsomer than Marjorie, he thought she was
not near so desirable. Marjorie possessed qualities and
purposes, while Miss Downing, liking and seeking ideals,
proposed to shine only in society, and was somewhat friv-
olous. Parker, however, was delighted with her, for the
glamour, which she shed around her was in harmony with
his own disposition.


86
When he and Parker had parted on his way home he!
commented in this manner: “ She and I would make a
great pair with like temperaments and tendencies,” then
he laughed at himself to think that he was planning love
conquests with the same zest he once planned pleasure
trips, parties or suppers. “If I am jilted or refused I sup-
pose my next role will be that of a misanthrope, and if I
play the last as well as I have the first two roles, the earth
will soon contain' no virtue or purity for me. How easily
the sensible, reasoning and logical man plays the jumping-
jack to the grimaces and smirks of fortune. How he
makes for himself conditions, by stilling reason, which he
calls fate, and then rants at them
He applied himself at the store diligently, and the zeal
and earnestness with which he took up the work was
creditable. He determined to master all the details of the
business, and whereas he had gained a reputation for pro-
fligacy and unstability, he now desired to gain one for
diligence, and perseverance. For a few days all went well
then he found that all at once he could not overcome the
habit of years, and possess the requisite energy necessary
for the requirements of an active business life without a
struggle. However, he had calculated the task and tried
to quell his rebellous longings with work. Despite his
effort the desire to be free and roaming would often arise
and make him exceedingly nervous. “Create desires at
pleasure, and they will make their demands at leisure,"
was a little couplet his mother had often quoted to him,
and which had great significance now.
He did not visit the club as often now as formerly, and
the fellows noticed it, and his changed manners. Some
were bold enough to twit him with trying to be religious,
some said he was in love, others that there had been


87
reverses in business which affected him. Generally he
responded with a laughing repartee, and although he felt
their sarcasms, it served only to make firmer his resolu-
tions. Going home one evening, after being twitted his
thoughts ran as follows in a soliloquy which of late he was
becoming addicted to: “I know now what warnings
against keeping bad company means. Every form of asso-
ciation has its demands upon us, and sooner or later we
find ourselves yielding until we become the creature of
our surroundings. Those whose position oft calls them
into other fields of life find a demand there ,also but one
different from what they have been accustomed to. Our
better natures tell us at once what appeals to the man and
what to the animal, and our inclinations tell us and others,
under what master we have served. Habits of character
are like habits of taste. Their march is slow and insid-
ious, but sure, and before one is aware he is in their
clutches. Often one does not realize his true position
until a desire is born to reform and to cast off the old
habits and associations. It was easy for me to gratify
every desire for pleasure to the very extreme of voluptuous
imagining, now it is very hard for me to shake off these
desires of habit. Could I start life anew, shorn of these
detracting influences that beset me, and form a part of me,
I could probably approach near to what I desire to be.
Twenty-seven years of life lost to me save in the recollec-
tion of many things I would fain forget. Yet not alto-
gether lost if I can profit by their lesson. Ah, that
regrets cannot undo the past.” Then as his thoughts
turned towards Marjorie, “But she can help me to atone
and to forget and she must. She has lived and moved in
other spheres than mine, she has breathed purer air and
been moved by nobler impulses. The uneven places of


88.
my life and character she can help fill in; its jagged
excesses, smooth, and so restore to itself a character not
wholly bad nor devoid of generous impulses. If I must
testify to my own good qualities and be guilty of self
praise. What would life without her be to me? She is
already the incentive that has pushed me on to overcome
the past, forget its follies and to live and act more soberly.
Will the past, with its oft repeated tales step between us?
For they too, like little streams gather as they run and
grow. If I have not been painted to her ten times as bad
as I am, gossip has lost its inventive imagination."
The self accusation of a penitent mind is often more
<scrutinizing and severe than the harshest outside criticism.
>Small facts are magnified when they seem to stand between
one and the accomplishment of results. It was so in
Stanley's case. “If they should separate us," he would
not pursue the subject further, for the idea cast a chill
over him and he shuddered, and tried to turn his attention
to more pleasing topics such as planning a ride or a jaunt
in which he could derive the benefit of her company.
He had almost decided to give up the club as it told
on his resolutions. His companionable associates, Parker,
Fox and Morgan often visited him and he them. His
room where they chatted, smoked or played cards was
about all the club he wanted under the circumstances.
Then Imogene claimed her share of his time, and gener-
ally received it ere he had peace. Once she had bluntly
told him that “Marjorie Stone shouldn't receive all his
attentions."
“Little sister,” he had replied, “ you are getting jealous,
and you are too young for that.”
“If you want her then, why don't you quit fooling, and
marry her?"


89
“Hush! hush! Who said anything about marrying?
Don't you ever inention that to any one."
“Oh! I didn't know it was a secret.”
“You don't suppose she cares for me, do you?” He had
lain particular stress on the “me."
“She's foolish if she don't. I do, and she's no better
than I am:” She had her way of looking at things and
didn't want him to be fooling away his time. In this
respect she was like her father.


CHAPTER XIII.
The commendations won by Stanley from his father,
concerning his business qualities, were very pleasing to
the young man. He was consulted on all occasions when
any important innovation was considered. This had the
effect of increasing his confidence in his own abilities, and
increasing a love for business, that he did not dream a few
months back, he was capable of feeling.
He had become a constant church attendant, partly
because of Marjorie, partly because of his new conceptions
of life. It was also because it was a relief from his rest-
less hours at home alone, when images of sport and travel
asserted a place in his mind to confuse and bewilder him.
Some of the money that he had been wont to spend in
pleasure, now served to render little acts of charity. His
constant association with Marjorie had broadened his
views, and at the same time threw him into the society of
men and women of greater depth of thought and better
purposes in life than he had formerly been accustomed to.
In this sphere he felt his horizon expanding, and in the
effort to keep pace with his new acquaintances, he began
to acquire a vast fund of knowledge and information. He
took Marjorie to concerts, operas and receptions, where
his sparkling humor was shown to advantage. And as the
summer days merged into autumn they took many a
pleasant drive to places of interest in and around the city.
There are no mountains or very high hills in Lower


91
Michigan, yet there are places where hill and lake alter-
nate with the general undulation of the country, and make
pleasing natural pictures. During the summer season the
shores of these lakes are transformed into villages by those ;
seeking change and rest from the cities. Summer cot-
tages fringe their borders. Here and there a hotel is
located to accomodate. the surplus of visitors coming to
these resorts. Around Detroit, however, the country flat-
tens out and the highest elevation for some miles around,
hardly rises above the dignity of an ordinary ridge. The
city was redeemed from the swamps, and around what was
intended as a military post, because of its superior posi-
tion as a shipping point, for the great inland traffic that
traverses the lakes, has grown a large and thriving metro-
polis. Its growth has, to a great extent followed the
river's course, upon whose banks are situated the majority
of its large manufactures, thus leaving the resident part
remarkably free from the smoke and soot that hovers over
most of the large manufacturing cities. Notwithstanding
the number of factories that line the river's bank, there
are few driveways surpassing that out Jefferson avenue to
Grosse Pointe, with its almost unbroken line of handsome
residences and princely villas along the lake and river
fronts. The drive out Woodward avenue is no less attrac-
tive, and is almost a boulevard with its fine resi-
dences and spacious grounds. Different groups
of these are called after the English style of
parks and courts. One passes these on the way to Sen.
ator Palmer's far famed Log Cabin Farm, which is regarded
as a marvel in its section. The log cabin is only named
from its outside appearance, within one might think it an
antique museum of some old family in which all its heir.
looms are kept. A deer's antler overhangs the door, on


92
either side of which is tacked a coon skin. Within sus-
pended from ceiling are strings of corn and dried apples.
Old fashioned clocks, stand in the corners, and in the
rooms are beds, arm chairs, and a cradle, all older than the
nation. The surroundings of the cabin are in keeping
with its inner furnishings. Two artificial lakes, connected
by a single stream are fed by an artesian well. The earth
removed to form these lakes have been made into a hill
which is covered with ferns and plants. Here Stanley
sometimes came with Marjorie, and together they would
admire the scores of Percheron horses and Jersey, cattle,
or at other times, make an entomological collection and
gather the fast turning leaves.
“All beauty in nature or man depends upon the condition
of one's mind,” he thought one day in mid-autumn as they
drove along, past wood and field, which, obedient to the
seasons call, had put off Nature's gay garb for the winter,
then preparing, which would lull them to sleep with its
storms. "Two years ago this same scene was too com-
monplace to attract my attention, today with love permeat-
ing my being, and inspiring my vision, all these things
seem beautiful. What would they appear to one over-
whelmed in sorrow, but a mockery setting his own condi.
tion all the more boldly in relief? What to the weary
plodder, burdened with toil and the thought of tomorrow's
bread, but mere trees, woods or fields occupying so much
space that must be cleared, cultivated, to yield a given
amount of produce! What to the thinker, but the revela-
tion that only to man is committed care.”
Wrapped in these thoughts he had forgotten all else,
and Marjorie who had spoken to him and received no
answer, began to watch him. As her gaze was steady,
intuition, or some other power of the mind which makes


94
replied Marjorie, paying no heed to his question. “I
grant the motives, even the lives of many are judged by
one single act, but when we have an accumulation of cir- '
cumstances, doesn't reason, unswerved by sympathy.
decide with the preponderance of evidence?"
“ Your mental law with its modifications, is generally
correct, but sympathy often sways reason, and in that the
mischief lies. From now on I shall try to be serious, and
make a new record to be judged by.”
"I hate, if you will excuse the expression, appearances
or forced manners. Let us be ourselves at whatever cost.”
“This is what I mean to be, and always have been, too
much so, I fear. I could never practice deceit on myself.”
“I believe that what you are, you are earnestly.
“ Is that a compliment?”
" It is a quality I admire. To be frank, weather-cocks
cannot be men, nor should men be weather-cocks. You
might know Mr. Stanley, that I would not have the auda-
oity to upbraid!
"It is profitable to be able to see ourselves as others
see us, if we have confidence that our faults are being
criticised charitably. We are so prone to be selfish, that
our best attempts to take an honest view of ourselves are
liable to be biased."
“ Conscience is often like a poet's muse-capricious, but
· we make it so by warping it out of shape to sanction our
i opinions.”
“Do you think so? By the way I think your friend
Miss Aikman quite frank, in fact she has many other
admirable qualities beside that and her beauty.”
“You and I agree on that point, for ‘Flo.' and I chide
each other like sisters, when in our best humors but that
has only made our friendship closer and stronger.”



95
“You and she are confidants, I suppose ?"
“We are and we are not. Somewhat of a paradox isn't
it?"
Oy you are wan When
"It seems like one. Parker comes nearer being a con-
fidant of mine than any one else; but there are some
things it is not wise to tell even our best friends. In
other words, as poor Richard says, “When you keep your
own counsels you know they are well kept.” This is per-
haps what you mean by your paradox, is it not?”
“You have hit it perfectly, Mr. Stanley. We seem to
agree admirably this afternoon."
“Then we are agreeable, to compass the whole matter."
Both laughed at his attempt at wit.
“The heart, Miss Stone, is like the earth, dull and
unattractive, but from it springs beauty and wealth of
sentiment, and in its recesses are many hidden treasures..
It needs to be penetrated by influences that separate and
bring out its desirable qualities, like the flowers that!
bring forth pleasing colors and rich perfumes."
“Your similies are fine, Mr. Stanley. I think you.
would make a great poet. Only with poetic geniuses do
such sentiments flow so readily."
She stopped then as if she thought she had said too
much, and maintained a quiet reserve for the rest of their
drive.
On different occasions like these arguments were
indulged in, outside of the small talk that generally
accompanies conversations. He trying to impress upon
her, while arguing in the abstract, that a change in his
life was going on, and that an incentive for it had been
found. He was pained, however, because she seemed to
have joined in the general verdict against him, but to
what extent it prejudiced her against him, he could not


96,
tell. He also thought, and in that he was not far wrong
that outside influences were brought to bear against him.
She was always kind and gracious to him, and seemed to
enjoy his society, but she was always discreet enough not
to exhibit any sign by which he might predicate whether
or no, his suit was favored. He could see that he was pre-
ferred above Maxwell. That individual did not call 80
frequently now, but when he did, he stayed as long as ever
and Stanley considered him as much of a bore.”


97
CHAPTER XIV.
“Love seldom makes good business men,” said Mr.
Stanley, “but in your case, my boy, the rule has been
reversed.”
Seth and his father were in the office quietly talking
over business affairs, the volume of trade, the estimated
profits for the season, and what new ventures should be
made in the Spring. Afterward the father naturally
referred to the active interest taken by his son in the
business, and ended with the above remark.
“Why do you say that?" asked Seth, turning quickly
and coloring, although he surmised that his father had
guessed the secret of his interest, but, wishing to find how
his choice was regarded, thought it best to push the mat-
ter and get his father's opinion. He said again, "Why do
you say that, father?”.
“Do you think me blind?” replied his father. “Why
even a blind man could see that you were in love with
Marjorie Stone. When before, did the pursuit of an
object ever work such a change in you, even for a week?
Church, hard work, and a struggle with yourself for mas-
tery over the pursuits of fleeting pleasure, deserting your
club rooms and drives, and a constant attendance upon
one whom I fancy reciprocates your affections. I have
seen it creeping out in your manner, when with her, in a
hundred different ways. My boy, your choice meets my
full approval, for I think her a very practicable, business-
like and intelligent woman. Just the one for such a


..98
harum-scarum fellow as you have been, and if she thor-
oughly tames you I shall certainly count her a worthy
daughter. I was quite wild once Seth, I can remember
when I used to go courting your mother down in New
York, what wild pranks we boys used to indulge in. We
lived on farms then, on the beautiful sloping plateaus to
the south of the Adirondacks, through which ran many
little streams that fed the Mohawk. Our folks owned
adjoining farms. We married and came West, with little
else but hope and determination. Your mother nobly
seconded my efforts, and what I am, what I have acquired,
is due as much to her as to any effort of mine. Miss
Stone's actions and temperaments are very much like hers,
and I would advise you to go in and win.”
He was standing over Stanley as he finished, and as if
to give his injunction emphasis, gave him a resounding
slap across the shoulders.
“I suppose I may as well own up since you have
guessed my attachment, but I have not declared my love
to her, and I am not so sure I will be accepted when I do.”
“Tut! tut! no sensible girl is going to stand against
her best interests. You have money and position. The
two form a power not to be despised. My motto has ever
been to conquer all obstacles that I may meet. As society
is now organized an ounce of cheek is worth a pound of
merit, very often.”
“I have at times proceeded on that basis, and find it
does well among the unthinking ones. It might even win
a wife, but does wealth always win love? I believe Mar-
jorie Stone would consider wealth among the least of my
attainments, and I think you misjudge her."
“Such a heart as yours was made for a chicken, but
never mind it will grow with experience," so saying Stan-


99
ley pere returned to his desk, leaving his son to think over
what had been said.
“It must be a game chicken then," commented Stanley
to himself after a little reflection, “for I have pushed my
suit with all the vigor and earnestness that I can muster,
and I mean to follow up whatever advantage I have
gained. Father has no idea how original and firm she
is in her convictions, her likes and dislikes, I could not
explain the situation to him, though I am satisfied with
my present position. If I win I shall win in my own
way."
With this determination he continued his visits. He
went out with her often, played at love, without making it
boldly, until he grew in her affections unawares. If he did
not come on the usual evenings she was disappointed. If
he missed in his attendance at church she upbraided him
as her pupil. Thus the Autumn merged into Winter and
the time passed rapidly.
At Christmas he gave her a necklace of pearls, because
pearls represented purity. It was the first present he had
offered her during their acquaintance and she accepted it.
By this time the friends of both had come to the conclu-
sion that they were engaged. Their more intimate ones,
except Flora Stedman, declared that this attachment of
Stanley's was only another infatuation for something to
gratify his pleasure and ambition. That his attachment
was only ephemeral and after a few months of married life
she would be left to repent the folly of marrying a good-
looking and good-natured young man, who was too
unstable in character to apply himself to anything for any
length of time. Among these was an old lady, Mrs.
Brooks, who admired Miss Stone very much. When she
heard of this reported engagement, she determined to call


100
on Mrs. Stone and let her know what a wild life young
Stanley had led. Some, jealously inclined, declared she
was going to marry him for his money, and said that it
would serve her right if he had tired of her, and would
leave her and go off to Europe in a week.
- If you want to enlist the active interest of your friends,
just let it be noised about that you are about to marry, and
if you will allow it, you will instantly find yourself over-
burdened with advice and find yourself the theme on
nearly every tongue. Speculation, not always good
natured, but more frequently tinged with envy, and spiced
with ill-natured remarks, becomes rife, even among those
who are only casual acquaintances. Conservative people
who do not mean to be followers of Madame Grundy, have,
many times, when such subjects are introduced and
started, fallen into the general rut and said more than they
would like to father in more serious moments.
Mrs. Brooks, to whom we have referred, was a widow
living with her brother's family. She had passed the time
of marriageable probabilities and having a comfortable
income had nothing else to do but visit, gossip and read
novels. She was quite conversant with all the small talk
of the neighborhood, was an inveterate reader and prided
herself on her general information of current topics. She
was noted for her loquacity and for the concessions people
made to her hobbies, age and respectability. Language
emanating from her passed unnoticed, that coming from
others would have been considered impertinent, and at
once challenged. She chose a stormy afternoon shortly
after the holidays, in which to make the visit to Mrs.
Stone to inform her of Stanley's character, because she
thought she would more surely find her at home. Aş she
stood in the hallway shaking off the snow from her fasci-


101
nator and wrap, Mrs Stone came down the stairway, and
with a look of surprise she asked:
“Why Mrs. Brooks, what has induced you to come out
on such a day as this?"
“I don't mind the weather. Nothing daunts me, when
I make up my mind. I wanted to see you and I thought I
would run over for a few minutes. You know I am not
of those delicate makeups that sneeze every time the wind
blows, or hurries off to the doctor for every pain.” Mrs.
Brooks' portly form seemed to attest the truthfulness of
her statements. “I only consult my feelings when I want
to do anything, and snap my fingers at outside circum-
stances. Where is Marjorie?”.
“She has gone to the matinee of the American Opera
Company with Mr. Stanley. They are so fond of music
that they have braved the storm. But come into the sit-
ting room.”
This was the opening Mrs. Brooks desired, and she
gladly availed herself of it. When they were comfortably
seated, she approached the subject as naturally and glibly
as she would have done in dispensing with some choice bit
of gossip, or talking of the weather.
“Mr. Stanley has been very attentive to her of late,"
she said. "I did not know he could be such a gallant."
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Stone. “The young people have
very many ideas and pleasures in common, and he seems
to enjoy her society very much. He is becoming more of
a society man and enjoys society. He chats with me
almost as much as he does with her and I find him very
interesting."
“But he is said to be very wild,” clearing her throat.
“So I have been told. But I think his reputation has
outstripped his acts. I have been unable to discover any


· 102
objectionable feature in his character. He is a constant
church-goer, but to what influence it should be attributed,
is more than I know."
“But he'll not stand the restraint, Mrs. Stone. It isn't
his nature to be quiet. A more restless young man one
seldom sees."
“Don't you think that he realizes the folly of his rest-
lessness, and has made up his mind to conquer it, and
assume the business of his father?”
“I can hardly say that I do. He may have resolved
to do so, but I should want several years of his reform to
convince me that he is sincere. I should not be so hard
though, for I hear that he and Marjorie are engaged."
Mrs. Stone's eyes flashed and she was about to make
some angry retort, reprimanding her for meddling and
circulating reports about her daughter. She realized now
the object of the visit, and she choked back the half-
uttered words for fear it might compromise Marjorie and
give to gossip fresh material, so she quietly replied, “you
have been misinformed. If anything of that nature had
happened she would have told me, for since she has been
a child she has made me her confidant, and considers me
her best friend.”
“ We generally keep our own confidence in love affairs,
Mrs. Stone. Still I am glad to hear that it hasn't gone
that far, and I hope Marjorie will be firm enough not to
put her head into a halter, even if it is represented by the
only son of a millionaire.”
“Marjorie is a sensible child, and I do not believe that
she would do anything willfully that she would afterward
have cause to regret. Besides, her parents are able to
advise her in case they deem a warning necessary. It has
always been a mystery to me why people should trouble


104
!
CHAPTER XV
Mrs. Brooks addressed both in the kindliest manner, as
if proud of them and of their friendly relation to each
other, while Mrs. Stone looked on and could not help but
think when she saw her changed demeanor that she was a
she-Janus.
Stanley had rather shunned her knowing her disposi-
tion and reputation, since he had been paying court to
Marjorie; but her kindly tone and pleasing manner in
which she complimented them on their appearance and
inquired about the opera, disarmed him of any suspicion
that he had formerly entertained. In her own mind Mrs.
Brooks was satisfied that they both by nature and temper-
ment were adapted to each other. She had been or rather
was a devotee of Fowler, and she believed in his theory
that temperaments ranged generally with the color, and
that opposites were best calculated as mates. At heart
she was not a malicious woman. She liked conversation
and gossip, and often when discussing a person, their
merits and demerits, she substituted her imaginings for
facts, which caused her to go to excess in criticisms, and
say what she did not really mean. Then her stubbornness
made her stand by her expressed criticism.
Her comments on the probably close relation Marjorie
and Stanley might bear to each other, and Mrs. Stone's
remarks on the same, she repeated to many other acquain-
tances, and these in turn discussed it with others, and


105
occasionally Marjorie would catch an inkling of the trend
of gossip much to her confusion and discomfort.
When they were alone her mother told her what Mrs.
Brooks had said more in indignation at what she termed
“unwarranted interference,” than as a warning to her, for
she had full confidence in Marjorie's judgment.
“I wish she would mind her own business," said Mar-
jorie petulantly. “If I had known that she had been
meddling in my affairs I should have told her, too. It
will soon be so that two people will not be able to keep
each other company without being discussed and belied,
even questioned and upbraided to their faces.”
“Don't lose your temper, my dear," expostulated her
mother. “ You must respect her age and her inclinations.
I said all that was necessary. Besides anger won't stop a
tongue, in fact I have never found a remedy that would.”
“I never could use such audacity, and I can't under-
stand people who do, that's all,” said Marjorie, who was
nettled. “Such a person's enmity is more valuable than
their friendship.”
“That isn't a Christian spirit, my child.”
“ Christianity, mother, never calls one to give the devil
an advantage. That is carrying meekness to an extreme
not contemplated in the books."
“But you'll not mention it to her unless she sees fit to
meddle with you."
“ No, I am willing to make her a present of that much
grace, but if she comes to me inquiring after my private
affairs she'll find that there are more tongues in town than
hers. Mr. Stanley hasn't mooted love to me, and of course
I haven't to him. I enjoy his company, and he must mine
or he wouldn't seek it.” Marjorie had spoken in a more
decided manner than ever before in her life.


106
Many times during the winter Stanley took Marjorie
to the opera, and many pleasant evenings were spent at
her home in conversation and song. She could easily see
from his manner what his attentions were leading to,
although not yet expressed in words. She was sure that
he loved her, and she felt a strong responsive chord in her
own heart, that beat in unison with every advance of his.
Often at night, after vainly endeavoring to free her mind
of thoughts of him, she would find them constantly recur-
ring to him. She would find herself planning and build-
ing air castles for the future, always with him as the chief
corner stone. She did not question the sincerity of his
love, but she did have grave doubts and apprehensions
regarding its stability. He had depreciated himself in her
presence, and his own estimate of self was confirmed by
those who know him in his former unsettled state. His
hints about men to whom a passing incident or some great
incentive had changed the current of their thoughts and
lives, she understood as applying to himself, and to her as
his incentive. She was pleased at this, and the knowledge
that her life and person could so transform a man of his
appearance as to draw out the better side of his character,
was a source of great satisfaction and happiness. His
most serious fault lay in the fact, she thought, that he was
always restless. .
Her sometimes evasive manners toward him were for
the purpose of gaining time to test his last resolve to be
sturdy. She would not become an easy sacrifice to a sen-
timental passion, but must be convinced that the passion
had in it the elements of strength. If he loved her as she
desired to be loved by him, the months of waiting would
purify and strengthen it. For his prospective fortune she
had nothing to offer but herself and love in return.


107
Nevertheless, born of respectable parents and of good con-
nections, with her many accomplishments she thought the
scales would be balanced. So veiled had her affections
been for him, that while she charmed, he had found no
opportunity to propose.
Stanley meanwhile withstood the good-natured jibes of
his associates and kept his own counsel. His father began
to grow impatient and feared that a shock now would unfit
him for business, and would have advised, had he not seen
that it wouldn't be acceptable. The good-natured queries
of Parker, who attributed it all to the boat ride, he met
with the best of humor, but he was often bored by pre-
suming young ladies who referred to his prospective mar-
riage relations with provoking assurance. He felt sure
that in Marjorie's estimation he ranked higher than any
of her gentlemen friends, while many a little token led
him to believe that he had not pressed his case in vain.
His great bete noir was the past, and often, “the doubt,
the agony, the fear," would return that the past would
rise up to mar his happiness, and this caused him to waver
in his eagerness and made him a little uncertain, despite
his belief.
One day during the first part of March when wind and
fleeting snow made it exceedingly uncomfortable for
pedestrians, he determined to call and have the question
settled at once. At six o'clock in the evening the storm
was still raging, and hurled the falling snow hither and
thither. No matter which way one turned he encountered
the wind and progress along the street was necessarily
slow. “The weather is against me,” thought he, as he
trudged homeward. “Pshaw! I am not superstitious," he
said aloud, and tucking his head deeper in the collar of
his great coat went on his way.devising ways by which he


108
-
might call up the subject. Several suggested themselves,
but he dismissed all as unsatisfactory. “The best laid
plans of mice and men oft gang awee,” and so it was with
Stanley this evening. He had hardly seated himself com-
fortably at home when Paul Fox was announced. Fox had
braved the storm to come, for he thought it would be an
excellent chance to catch him in and have a talk. Stanley
accepted the situation with good grace and did all that he
was able to make his friend comfortable and the evening
pass pleasantly.
When Fox arose to go the storm had quieted consider-
ablý, and Stanley accompanied him a short distance. On
the way, Fox speaking of common reports said, “Seth, I
must congratulate you on your engagement. You could
hardly have made a better selection in the city."
“Allow me to protest,” replied Stanley,“ your congrat-
ulations are not in season. I am only a friend to the young
lady, nothing more."
Come! come! now! Seth we supposed you were in love
last summer, when we went on that pleasure trip to Mack-
inac. What puzzled us then was the object of your
affection. Now you will certainly let an old friend wish
you well. I suppose it isn't time to own up yet and you
have availed yourself of the old chestnut."
"I thank you for your interest, but since neither denial
nor affirmation will change your opinion I will neither
deny or affirm its truth. There is nothing a man hugs
more firm, than a delusion that is pleasant to believe true,
and one of these delusions is to marry two whom gossip
has joined together before the interested parties have
agreed to form a contract. Those whom gossip have
joined any circumstance may put asunder. Whether it
does or does not the wise ones say, 'I told you so.' They


109
hang on both sides of the fence and consider themselves
right whichever way an affair turns. So you were study-
ing me instead of our surroundings while on the trip."
“Well said for you, but right or wrong, I shall hold to
my opinion and wish you well until time sets me right.”
This was Fox's parting shot as he bid his friend good-
night, and went upon his way. Upon this subject, Stan-
ley, knowing Parker's temperament, had once or twice
silenced him, but Fox did and said everything in such a
nice way that he could not “sit down on him” so easily.
“Imogene also because of this attachment of his, had
begun to view Miss Stone as a prospective sister-in-law,
and was so pleased at the thought of having a home com-
panion other than Mrs. Burwell, that she often made him
annoyed at her questions, which he did not wish to answer.
Mrs. Burwell was refined and well-educated, had been a
teacher in a female seminary, but her mode of life was
rigorous and her habits and tastes so settled that as a com-
panion for Imogene, who possessed all the warm blood and
imagination of youth budding into womanhood, she was
not a success. Imogene kept her pretty well informed of
her brother's love affairs, as far as she knew of them, and
often added a little, that her ardent wishes and enthusiasm
made real to her, of Marjorie's accomplishments. In con-
sequence Mrs. Burwell looked forward to the time when
perhaps her services would be no longer required, for with
her usual faculty of jumping at things, Imogene assured
her that Seth and his wife would live at home with them.
Mrs. Burwell's perceptions were aroused and she noticed
that Stanley for several days past appeared a little down-
hearted, and she wondered if Miss Stone was at all respon-
sible for it. In fact he was so preoccupied with his pros-


110
pects for a future success as viewed in the light of recent
events, that for a time he was absent minded.
The Durhams were also on the tiptoe with expecta-
tion. They were amazed at his constant attachment, and
they had several long talks about it. The change in his
habits, his strict attention to business for the past few
months was to Mrs. Durham a source of still greater
amazement than his constant courtship of Marjorie. She
was surprised to know that Marjorie and Maxwell were
not engaged, and while she knew that Marjorie and Stan-
ley were not either, their increasing attachment to each
other she viewed according to her mood as favorable or
unfavorable. Still even in her most favorable moods she
thought a little more time was necessary to show whether
Stanley's change was permanent. This idea vexed Mr.
Durham, and sometimes put him out of patience, but then
he was a man and men view these things differently from
women. He would have let the matter drop and awaited
events had Mrs. Durham not referred to it so frequently.
In these conversations, she found herself siding with Max-
well and gave her husband to understand who had her
sympathy, and she frequently wound up each conversation
by saying, “ Well, Maxwell is nice anyway, and his char-
acter is above reproach.”
Disappointed in not being able to call upon Marjorie
on the evening referred to, Stanley resolved to embrace
the first opportunity and broach the subject. The chance
did not come soon, for one hindrance after another aided
by his own diffidence, when in her company, and by her
shrewdness in turning the conversation when it approached
near dangerous channels, that April passed before the
opportunity came.


111
CHAPTER XVI.
“In the Spring a young man's fancy
Lightly turns to thoughts of love."
With the opening up of Spring and the resurrection of
nature, Stanley's love seemed to grow, expand and inten-
sify. The spring rains which made riding so unpleasant
helped nature to unveil her beauty. To his eager eyes,
and a soul exalted by love, nothing seemed more beautiful
than the grass turning green, and budding plant and tree.
After all, one has to be in love to enjoy to the full the
beauties of the natural world, for not until then does
nature seem to reveal to us her treasures. Love makes the
senses keener, the perceptions clearer. It exalts the soul
and makes for us a paradise upon earth where we live in
the pictured future in which we see the fruition of our
dearest hopes. They who have not loved havə not enjoyed
life to its best, and they are to be pitied who go down to
their grave, after reaching man's estate, without ever lov-
ing or having been loved. The cynic, the scoffer, the mis-
anthrope and all who rant against love have bodies or
minds diseased, their finer senses are blunted, and they
have no appreciation of the noblest passion. They are to
be pitied, for love is divine.
One evening in May, Stanley found the opportunity he
had been long seeking. They were alone and by degrees
he tried to lead up to the momentous question. Young
Harper and Carrie Lambert had recently married and they


.
112
.
had attended the reception together. Stanley began to
talk of them.
“I think that Mr. and Mrs. Harper should live happily
together,” said he, “they seem so well suited to each
other."
“I hope so for it is bad enough to be unhappy when
the chance still remains for us to alter and better our con-
dition. That is why I have often adjured you, as a pupil,
in this life to prepare for what you may expect in the
next."
“ Most of our unhappy marriages I think are due to
mismated temperaments, especially among the wealthy,
whose love is sometimes hardly more than a blind pas-
sion,” not heeding her moral lesson.
“That is because they see so little of each other,” said
she taking advantage of the chance to give him heropinion
on the subject. “Very often they do not examine them-
selves to see if their love is of the nature that lasts. That
would yield up the entire being so that the two lives may
blend into one dual existence, and make them so depen-
dent upon each other that their joys, sorrows, and aspir-
ations become one. Nothing short of this is true love;
nothing short of it should end in matrimony,
“ Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one."
may be considered sentimental, it is nevertheless sense.'.
“ Your ideal is certainly high, and I endorse it.”
Marjorie interrupted him by saying, “ Too many men
consider their wives mere dolls, good enough for amuse-
ment and pleasure, but who are to be laid aside at their
sweet will. Instead of installing them as helpmates they
become the creatures of their husband's caprices."


113
“Only unthinking men would act in such a way,” said.
he, surprised at her animation.
“You have already said,” she continued desperately,
for her woman's wit had divined the object of his conver-
sation, which she wished to postpone as long as possible,
“that sympathy often biased reason, would not love also
do so. The mere thinking comes when it is of no use in
mending the matter."
This remark discomfited him and he thought it best
not to push the question which involved so much, but to
wait for a better opportunity. For the present he was
outtalked and outwitted and he changed the topic. When
he departed he did not retain in his mind even a lingering
suspicion of the positiveness of her manner and he chided
himself for his lack of courage. It was a mystery to him
too, why he, who had such a general reputation for daring
should fail in his intentions at that particular moment.
“I have played the coward tonight, sure,” he thought.
" It was not consciene but consciousness. She's a shy one
and no mistake. I'll wager my chances that she divined
what was uppermost in my mind. The next time she
shall know from my bearing that I shall not allow her
intuitions to cheat me out of my intentions. Seth, old
boy, this is a bargain, and don't you ever be found lying
to yourself.”
A week elapsed before he called again, and he was
determined to propose. As on the former occasion, when
he had been outwitted, his mind was full of the absorbing
question and the answer it might call forth. The manner
of dress in which it should be clothed was what troubled
him most. In her presence, however, the fine spun little
speech which he had put together flew he knew not where.
She had been reading and still held her book in her


115.
nervously while he continued. “I have sought pleasure
in nealy every fleeting fancy that flashed before me. I
have been an epicure. I have climbed the rugged Alps;
looked down with pride upon vast domains in our own
country from Pike's Peak. I have been almost around
the world, seen most of its beauty, but have met with no
experience or felt no longing that has so moved the depths
of my soul.” He paused for a reply but she inclined her
head to one side and said nothing, so great seemed the
silence, that he could fancy he almost heard her heart
beat. He resumed. “Marjorie, you cannot doubt I love
you? Has not my every act proved it? I lay at your
feet my wealth, my life, my love. You surely cannot.
doubt me?” dropping into a more serious tone, “Rather
doubt the truths of holy writ in which you find such hope
and consolation; doubt that the awakening buds start at
the first approach of spring, but do not doubt that I love
you or cast away, without consideration, the sum of my
first pure unselfish impulses, that has transformed the
young madcap of many fancies into an earnest, thinking
and loving man, whose dearest thought is to win and love
you.” He pressed her hand gently, as it lay partly in his,
as he waited anxiously for a reply.
She turned partly around, and with downcast eyes,
she spoke feelingly, and there was a tremor in her voice.
“ Mr. Stanley, I have not been unmindful of your kind
favors and attentions, nor have I been blind to the fact
that the pleasure we have found in each other would lead
to this. I have tried to stay it for a time, and although
aware of its certain approach, I am unprepared to give you
an answer. Give me a week of earnest thought and prayer
and you shall have my answer.”
He was embarrassed, but alive to her position he at


116
once arose to take his leave, saying, “I commit my fate
into your keeping. Do not turn me back to a life of
wandering and unfixed purposes. If my actions have not
been eloquent in pleading for me, my tongue cannot aid
them, for I cannot formulate in speech all that I feel.”
“Do not urge me now, I believe you honorable and
sincere in all that you have done and said. I am over-
whelmed with conflicting thoughts that I must settle
alone."
She loved him, and would have consented now, for his
outburst of love had so awakened her feelings, that she
could scarce control her heart that beat in unison with his.
If she were only sure of the depth of his love. She must
not and would not give way, so she stood with downcast
eyes until he turned to go. He then extended his hand
and as she laid hers tremblingly in his she said: “All will
be for the best, Mr. Stanley, all will be for the best.”
Hastily donning his coat and hat he went out and
paraded the streets for an hour or more ere he went home,
thinking over the events of the evening, and trying to
clear his mind from the mist which enveloped it. The
quck, restless, motion of his body was more in harmony
with the chaos of thought tumbling around in his brain,
than it would have been sitting quietly in his room, look-
ing over the field of his hopes, doubts and fears.
After Stanley had left the house Marjorie sat for a
while motionless while her mind actively ran over the sit-
uation. She knew that she had loved him before, but that
burst of uncontrolled passion and ferved eloquence had set
free the dormant springs of affection and she loved as she
had never thought of loving before. She longed to be his,
her heart yearned for him, and when the tide of his pas-
sion was at its flood, had almost consented to become his


117
wife, but something within her seemed to whisper, “ Love
sways judgment, you must take time to think calmly over
this step of a lifetime.” No other thought could enter her
mind and over and over she revolved her position-love
debating on one side, caution and reason the other.
Said Love: “Why not accept him and make both your
lives happy, for nearly ten months have you known him,
and watched him closely, surely he has been cured of his
careless roving disposition.”
Said Reason: “But then his own confession. Noth-
ing gratified him but for the moment. Even in the hour
of his proposal, his mind reverted to this propensity, a
return to which he yet feared. He said, “ do not turn me
back to a life of wandering.”
Love again said: “The greater reason that you should
look favorably upon his suit, for under your influence he
certainly will not turn back.”
But Caution answered, “still if he should turn back
your life would be miserable. It will be better to take
longer time to see if his reformation is deep-rooted.
Not being able to decide for herself then, she resolved
to take her mother in her confidence, for she certainly must
have guessed his intentions. When she was more com-
posed on the morrow she would consult with her. She
had hardly come to this conclusion when her mother
came in.
“Mr. Stanley gone so soon?” She enquired, then
noticing Marjorie's appearance, her motherly instincts
were aroused, “Why my dear, what is the matter? Are
you ill?"
“I do not feel very well and I think I had better go up
to iny room and rest.”
In an instant it dawned upon Mrs. Stone that Stanley's


119
CHAPTER XVII,
When Marjorie reached her room she burst into tears
Why, was a mystery even to herself. They were neither
tears of joy nor of sorrow. Still they gave relief to a
heart that was overburdened, and prepared the way for
thought. At such times as this solitude is a welcome
boon, and Marjorie was glad enough to be alone. She
looked into the glass of her dresser and was surprised to
find that her face was so pale, and that deep black rings
had gathered around her eyes. No wonder thought she,
that mother thought I was ill.
Rather mechanically she began to undress herself. It
was her usual custom before retiring to open her bible and
read a chapter or so. As she opened it at random almost
the first words that met her eye were, “ Come unto me all
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest.” She closed the book, got down upon her knees and
tried to pray for strength and wisdom, but so heavy did
her thoughts bear upon her that her mind would wander
from its purpose, which wanderings she tried to check by
becoming more earnest in her supplications. When she
laid down she could not sleep, for her thoughts seemed to
flow more rapidly, and images of her position appeared
more vivid. She felt that she was no longer the gentle
trusting Marjorie of yesterday, and that a day had wrought
a great change in her. I have reached the age of thought-
fulness she soliloquised, why not be thoughtful. I cannot


120
21
LAT
T
expect to go through this world with ease at every turning
when others earn their bread by the sweat of their brow,
to which is often added sorrow, that is at times the sweat
of the very soul. Yesterday my prospects were bright,
for the crisis had not come. Now that it has arrived those
same prospects seem to fill me with forebodings and I
doubt.
$ As the sun gives color to the world, so the mind gives
color to life's prospects. The sun's absence darkens the
world, so the absence of content, which is our sun, and the
entrance of doubt darkens our life. “Why should I not
trust him, and why should I?” she continued. “Man is
fallible in his most exalted state. He finds in his heart to
distrust the infinite God, why not Í him? Before I troth
the homage of a life why should I not know more of him?
Yet I cannot tell him that love and distrust are mated in
my mind. It might crush and humiliate him, and make
him despise me.” So her mind jumped from thought to
thought, grasping at every suggestion that might satisfy
her conscience, and yet not dwarf her love or his. She
turned and tossed till her head began to ache, the room
felt close to her. Then she arose and opened the window
for air. Fearing that the night dampness might give her
a cold she shut it again, and wrapping a blanket about her
she sat gazing upon the street, and thus sitting she decided
upon what line of conduct to pursue. With all her good
traits Marjorie Stone was not insensible to gossip. She
was a little afraid of it, and no small share of her conflict
could be attributed to it. It had come to her ears that
people had said she was going to marry Stanley on
account of his wealth, that he would soon tire of her and
she would finally rue her bargain. Gossip created in her
doubts she could hardly overcome, and made her ask her.


121
66
self what if the prediction should prove true? How cruel
the people were to speculate upon her happiness, and so
she decided to test him. If he loved as truly as she did,
he would be willing to make some sacrifice. The sacrifice
was this: He must give up the culmination of his desires
without'even the assurance of a betrothal for a year. It
was to prove the durability of his change of life and of his
love.
Mr. Stone had spent the evening out and on his return
as usual he and his wife talked over the events of the day,
and finally Mrs. Stone spoke of Marjorie's indisposition.”
“I expect that she and Stanley had a spat this evening.
He went away unusually early, and she looked and seemed
to feel so badly, that she went to her room early.”
“And you didn't ask her what the trouble was?”
“No, I didn't care to worry her when I saw how pale
she was, besides I knew she would tell me in the morning.”
Mr. Stone was a quick-tempered man and apt to jump
at conclusions. The idea that Stanley was at all responsi.
ble for his daughter's paleness made him angry and he
exclaimed, “I never did think much of that young Mogul
going with Marjorie. What does he care for her with all
his wealth ? And when he can marry nearly anyone he
chooses. He wanted a little flirtation and he didn't care
whose heart it broke. If I catch him around her again
I'll read the riot act to him. You can bet on that.”
“Come, Tom, don't be hasty,” remonstrated his wife,
“We don't really know what the trouble is, and until we
do, it is not necessary to work yourself into a passion. You
might do something, of which you afterwards may be
ashamed."
“No danger, I know those fellows. I have heard them


122
boast, sometimes over their betters, and they are about all
alike.”
“But we don't know how matters stand and I think
Stanley is too much of a gentleman for that.”
“Gentleman, bosh! Most of them are cads. Its a pity
Marjorie should show him preference over Maxwell, who
despite his looks is a gentleman. I shall go to Stanley
tomorrow and demand an explanation. He shall apoligize
to me. I'll humble his proud heart or break his senseless
noodle with as little compunction as he has tried to break
her heart.”
“Come, Tom, you are angry, calm yourself.”
' “Calm yourself!” he repeated, “and let people run.
right over you. That kind of nonsense will do to teach in.
Sunday Schools, but I believe in striking back, and I
mean to.”
Tom was growing more furious and she finding that
argument was of no avail, begged him to say nothing to
Marjorie at breakfast, and assured him that he should
know all the next evening. Thus by the use of consider-
able tact in branching off into other matters, Tom forgot
his anger, became interested in her remarks, and finally
promised, with some reluctance, to wait.
After Marjorie had decided upon what course to adopt,
her mind found some relief and she went to sleep, but it
proved a restless slumber, which was so fraught with ter-
rible dreams, that she often awoke with a start. As a
result she received but very little rest. In the morning
she took a cold bath and tried to put on a forced look to
hide the marks of mental anguish, which the battle of the
previous night had left upon her features. But her efforts
were in vain, for though the spirit was willing, the
thoughts of the night were too recent and too strong to be:


124
honorable and kind, and his actions so manly, and yet I
find in my heart a mistrust of his sincerity, and this feel.
ing almost breaks it.” She broke down completely then
and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Her mother felt that this heart trouble was too much
for her to unravel, yet she went to her daughter and tried
to console her.
"Don't cry my darling. Let us talk it over. You do
not think he is so mean as to tell, and live a lie, to deceive
you so as to entrap you into marrying him.
“No! No! No! Not that. I do not believe that he
knows himself. I fear the love he professes is not as
deep-seated as he thinks it is, and as I would like it to be.
I fear that after the novelty of his passion has worn off, he
would tire of me and then I would become perfectly mis-
erable. I cannot accept him now, yet how can I refuse
him. I could not stand before him and say I mistrust
him, yet the issue must be averted, and I cannot give the
reason why. That is what makes me so sorrowful.”
“Then she told her mother of the occurances of the
night before; of her resolution to have him wait a year,
and her mother, taking in consideration all that she had
heard and remembering the opposition of friends, agreed
with her in the decision she had formed. Still she tried to
console her by saying that she believed that Stanley would
prove himself all that he had claimed, and that at the end
of the year he would come back, renew his vows, with
their love purified and strengthened by the waiting. Fur-
ther she said: “I have always been proud of you my
child," putting her arm around Marjorie's neck, and draw-
ing her head gently to her breast as she stroked the warm
and fevered cheek, “today I am prouder still. If a
mothers love will aid you, it will be given full and free."


- 125
;
* : PERUT TEST
“I know it mother, and that is a sustaining thought..
That is why I came to you with my burden, I wanted to
seek your advice. You agree with me and I feel better.'
For the whole of that week mother and daughter were
like sisters or intimate friends. They talked the matter
over many times in that relation. Ah, that such mutual
confidences between mother and child were more frequent..
How much less misery there would be in the world, and
how fewer the heartaches would be. Such relations bind.
and cement closer together, and makes even the ordinary
life of home, more pleasant and cheerful. Marjorie, whose
nerves were strained to the highest tension looked for
advice, consolation and encouragement, while the mother
soothed and comforted, and was hopeful. Picturing hope
in bright colors, with love's happy reunion when the trial
was over, as sure as the bright clear sky should take the
place of the dark lowering clouds above.
Mr. Stone came home earlier that evening. He was
worried over his wife's communication and was anxious to
know the real cause of Marjorie's trouble the night before.
He watched Marjorie's countenance closely as if trying to
read her thoughts, but she had stilled her nerves and
gained such control of her feelings, as to appear almost
natural, so he hastily inferred that it was some little “kit-
ten spat that would soon blow over.” However at supper
the usual sprightly conversation which characterized that
meal, lagged, and over all there seemed a cloud of some
import.
Supper over, Mr. Stone picked up his evening paper,
put on his spectacles, and was soon apparently busy in its
contents. Marjorie tried to interest herself in a book.
Mrs. Stone busied herself with some fancy work, but the
general talk such as they were accustomed to, was missing.
some foerself in sy in its


126
There were several attempts at it but they were all fail.
ures. At an early hour Marjorie bid them good night and
left the room.
After she had gone Mr. Stone laid the paper aside,
took off his spectacles, looked at his wife and said, “ well? ”
In his tone there was a world of meaning, anxiety and
curiosity. It contained all that had been pent up in him
and agitating his mind the entire day. “Well?” he
repeated. She had pretended not to hear him the first
time.
“I told you, Tom, that you were hasty. He has not
flirted with her at all, but is head over heels in love with
her. He proposed to her last night, and what do you sup-
pose she said.”
He shook his head and motioned for her to go on.
“ She told him that she must take a week to consider.”
“What did she expect to gain by that?”
“ Time to make up her mind.”
“What does she intend doing?”
“Put him to a year's trial without any definite answer,
to see if his love is abiding."
“The little vixen,” slapping his hand on his knee.
" Very few girls would let slip a chance like that.”
“But she does not think it such a great chance. He
has been wild and she fears that his love may weaken.
She thinks that he may regret his bargain when the
honeymoon is past.”
“ Her head does her credit I must say. Not one girl in
a hundred would stop to consider that. But does she love
him."
“ Most ardently, and that is why she grieves and looks
so bad. I believe if during the year he should prove


128
7
his way, we can depend upon it, that Maxwell will be a
regular visitor again.”
Mr. Stone was right for Maxwell was one of the first to
know that there was a partial estrangement.
The reader is perhaps eager to hear how Stanley has
fared, so we rejoin him as he paces restlessly the streets
after leaving Marjorie.


129
CHAPTER XVIII.
In his confusion Stanley took no note of time, distance
or direction. His fears began to assume large proportions,
as he tried to reconcile her request for time, with the love
he thought she had for him. The few scintillations of
hope that penetrated through all the confusion, were
quickly overcome by his doubts and fears. At times he
half blamed himself for his haste in proposing, because a
refusal might banish him altogether from her presence; for
loving with a deep, fervid and passionate love he could not
play the calm passionless role of friend.
When he finally became conscious of his surroundings
he found that he was out near the bridge on Fort Street
West, quite a distance from his home. As he heard the
bell of an approaching locomotive coming down the track
he stepped upon the bridge, for the time, as unconscious
of the thoughts that had troubled him, as he was a few
moments before, of the people hurrying to and fro, that
had passed him. Shutting out his sorrow, he stood with
elbows resting on the railing, his chin in the palms of his
hands, and watched the freight train as it came thundering
along, and passed under the bridge with a long line of cars
freighted with merchandise-its evidence of man's ingen-
uity and skill in giving to inanimate substances the power
of life. Falling into his usual habit of serious musing,
which he had contracted during the past year, he began to
consider this train in relation to his present state. “What


130
are these things without love?” What is the climax of our
ambitions, our access to place and power, the triumph of
our ideal, but to place it unselfishly to the credit of those
we love? And yet we are ashamed of that most holy pas-
sion and speak only of it in whispers. We bind it within
our breast until it becomes so strong as to almost break its
prison house and reveal itself to others despite ourselves,
by an overt act or word. Its principle is divine. It is the
secret agency that preserves the harmony of the universe.
It moved the Creator to the sacrifice of his only begotten
son, and it brings blessings upon the just and the unjust.
It clothes the earth with beauty, and makes its herds, with
joy to break forth into song and thanksgiving. Only man
-poor fool-tries to hide it under a bushel, and chides
himself should but a ray escape to attract the attention of
others. That which we cherish; that which exalts, ennobles
and purifies; that which makes our burdens light and
tasks easy, we hide. Why? For fear of the cynic, the
taunt of the envious, and the good-natured chaff of friends.
Shakespeare was right in saying, “What fools we mortals
be.'”
For a few moments he stood leaning upon the rail of
the bridge, his thoughts taking a wide range. As he
looked upon the interlacing of the tracks below, in his
mood, it seemed to him that his position on the bridge was
not unlike his prospects. Was he not then standing on
the “Bridge of Sighs,” with his hopes buried beneath ?
Swifter than the steam messengers were his thoughts and
freighted with more precious merchandise. What exceeds
human hopes in value? The sound of another bell awoke
him from his reverie and then with a sigh, he began to
retrace his step homeward.
He had never been so much disturbed in mind before;


131
his heart had never felt such yearning. For the week, at
least, he intended to keep his own counsel. If Marjorie
accepted him he would take the news to his father with
joy. If she refused, then with sorrow, and prove to him
how erroneous were his opinions as to the power of wealth
and influence in securing love and happiness. It was
quite late when he arrived at home, and as he did not
desire to meet anyone he went direct to his room. Of one
thing he was certain, that whatever course she would pur-
sue, no power at his command could dissuade her from her
purpose, and that he would have to accept the fiat. His
acquaintance with her had shown him the truth, with her
at least, of these lines:
“Where is the man who has the power and skill,
To stem the torrent of a woman's will ?”
The next day Mr. Stanley detected an air of languor
and care about his appearance, but the true cause of it
never struck his mind. Stanley attended to his duties all
that week strictly and silently.
During the week Imogene noticed that he frequently
indulged in reverie, sometimes he sighed, his usual good
spirits were lacking, and that only with difficulty could he
interest himself in anything. She laid it all to the store
and thought it mean.
Marjorie Stone and she were good friends, for Mar-
jorie's tact in interesting her in good books, and shaping
her musical tastes, won her love and respect. Becoming
lonesome and worried over her brother's silence and soclu-
sion, one afternoon during the latter part of the week, she
thought she might throw off the feeling by paying Mar-
jorie a visit. She too had a preoccupied air and appeared


132
more thoughtful than usual. “Oh, dear,” thought she,
“what is the matter with the people?”
But she affectionately greeted Marjorie and said:
“ Everybody at our house seems to have had the blues
since the first part of the week. Papa hasn't talked of
anything except business and newspapers, and Seth seems
to have something on his mind, that keeps his mouth shut
as tight as a clam, so I thought I would come over here
and see you before I caught the infection."
Marjorie would like to have known how Stanley felt
about the answer she had given him. As for herself she
could cheerfully wait, but she shrank from giving pain to
one who had been so gallant and manly with her. She
dared not inquire about him, for she was afraid the truth
might fit the overdrawn picture she had formed of his suf-
fering grief.
“We are glad you came," said Mrs. Stone. “I know
it must be lonesome for you without mother or sister."
“I am going to make Marjorie my sister and then I
shan't be so lonesome. Won't you be my sister?” turning
to Marjorie.
“I should be glad to be, but I could not bargain to
always shield you from gloomy thoughts, for they seem to
be twins with experience. Yet we should not acknowl.
edge their authority for they lead to despair, and des-
pair too often indulged, becomes a master, with many
demands."
"I'll not borrow any trouble,” replied Imogene, “for
Seth always says it will come in time to give us all the
worry we want.”
“And he is right,” said Mrs. Stone, “never worry
trouble, until trouble worries you.” She noticed the
flashes of pain that passed over Marjorie's countenance on


133
these allusions to Stanley, and she asked Imogene how
she was getting along with that new stitch she had shown
her on her last visit.
“Very nicely, and I am going to make papa a pair of
slippers, that is, if my studies will allow me the time. I
have been trying to persuade Seth to take us with him on
his next trip, and he has consented. Won't that be nice ?
and you will go, won't you?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Marjorie. Then you would have a
chance to try me, when we are together, and see if you
would like me as a sister.”
“I have made up my mind already about that. I get
so tired of Mrs. Burwell sometimes."
Marjorie arose and took a seat beside her as she asked,
“do you think you could always love me?"
Imogene looked up with surprise at the earnestness of
the question, and said with an injured air, “of course I
could. I often wish I was old enough to go with you and
Flora Stedman, she came to see me the other day and she
is so sweet.”
“Don't be in such a hurry to grow old. Why, when
Flo. and I are old maids you will be enjoying yourself
immensely, you'll just be in the bloom of young woman-
hood.
Imogene looked at her incredulously. “Mrs. Burwell
must think that of me now. You know she is serious all
the time, and she seems to think I am old enough to settle
down and knit and nod like she does,” and Imogene
laughed as if pleased with the thought and the picture she
had formed of the housekeeper.
After spending a pleasant afternoon she arose to go,
saying, “I must go now. Papa and Seth will soon be
home.”


134
Marjorie kissed her good bye as with a light heart, and
in excellent spirits she went away.
* * * * * *
Imogene and Seth were sitting quietly in their sitting
room that evening, he was absorbed in a book, and she
was trying te study her lessons and watch him at the same
time. The silence was too much for her and she broke it
by saying: “Say, Seth, I was over to Marjorie's this after-
noon.”
“Were you?” He didn't even raise his head.
“Yes, I was feeling blue and so lonesome that I
couldn't think of anything else to do, and she is so nice.
I told her I was going to have her for a big sister.”
He pricked up his ears, and his interest was at once
aroused at this. “Oh! you know its real lonesome here
sometimes Papa is away so much and you have the
dumps so often. Oh, it isn't near so cheerful as you
imagine (this was in answer to his look of surprise) going
through the same thing every day and coming home and
only have Mrs. Burwell to talk to. Then she doesn't
always seem to care, and is beside prosy. It is very
monotonous, (with a yawn) and so wanting a companion
who would take an interest in things, who is older and
charming, and as sweet as she could be, I asked Marjorie
if she wouldn't be a sister.”
“And what did she say to your proposal?”
“Why, she accepted, of course. Oh, I should like to
live with her when you take a notion to be abroad again or
get into one of your silent moods. That would be jolly."
• “Well you are progressing at any rate. But don't be
so disconsolate I am not going abroad soon and if I do you
shall go with me. Beside you ought to allow a fellow to be
a little moody now and then. We can't always be gay,”


135
and walking over to her he patted her on the cheek and
kissed her.”
This restored Imogene to good humor, and she prattled
away at a great rate, forgetting all about her lessons. He,
becoming talkative related reminiscences of his trips
abroad, described the work of the great masters he had
seen, talked about the books he had been reading, of his
favorite poets, and promised to take her to the Thomas
concert the next week. Stanley told his stories in such an
entertaining and romantic way that Imogene was always
glad to get him started. This evening she looked at him
open-mouthed, listening intently, and we are constrained
to say, that he sometimes drew on his imagination which
was vivid, just to see the round eyes open wider, and to
see the look of wonder in her full, dark orbs. When he
had finished he felt much better after the evening's diver-
sion than he had any night since his proposal. Action
relieves a distressed mind, but the more one broods over
troubles, the more despondent and wretched he becomes.
Some months back when he first began to recognize
that he was living far below his opportunities, and that he
was being outstripped by many who had fewer chances to
acquire intellectual advancement and general information,
he commenced to give considerable time to reading. His
mind was quick to grasp ideas and thoughts. It was
subtle, and enabled him to easily detect sophistries. It
was also capable of great expansion, and possessing an
excellent memory, retained the best of what he had read.
What seemed useless to strive for in former years, had
become worthy of aspiration now. His thirst for knowl-
edge increased, as his new quest, opened up to him now
fields of pleasure and thought. He laid aside one evening,
while waiting for the week to go by, an interesting volume,


136
Hugo's Les Miserables, that he had taken from his father's
library. He had been reading of the good Bishop Bien-
venu in connection with Jean Valjean. Then he began to
reflect on his own past and its neglect of high ideals, it
seemed as if that subject would not down. If we could
only look forward with the same ease that we can look
back how different would be the course of our lives. If we
could only see present opportunities as clearly as we can
see past mistakes how wise we would be, and how different
would be the face of the world. Regrets are useless,
experience is a dear teacher, and while she often deals
roughly with us, we are gainers if we try to follow her les-
sons in the future.
So in the study and contemplation of his innerself and
in making himself agreeable to Imogene what promised to
be a week of tedious waiting passed more quickly than
he imagined it would. Too quickly, when his thoughts
doubted a favorable answer. Too slowly, however, when
his heart beat high with the hope of pleasant anticipa-
tions.
At last the appointed day came. The evening of his
defeat or success, of sorrow or happiness.


137
CHAPTER XIX.
Not now the hour, at thy request
To seal my fate. There is a test.
Marjorie answered the bell in person and her set feat-
ures, the evidences of her week of struggle, immediately
attracted his attention and cast a damper upon his feel-
ings. As he took off his light top coat and hung it on the
hall tree, he said, “ Let us spend the evening as usual. I
will not ask you for my answer until later."
“ Just as you like Mr. Stanley,” she said, and she led
the way into the sitting-room where her father and mother
were seated. It was quite a little while before the conver-
sation gained a natural tone, because of the tinge of
embarrassment which seemed to be common to all. Mr.
Stone was at first the life of the conversation, and started
it by asking, “How is business now, Mr. Stanley." .
“I can't say that it is rushing just now, but is is very
fair, and has been excellent. I didn't think that I would
like the store as well as I do."
" A person can learn to like most any kind of work if he
but accepts the situation and makes the most of it."
“So I have found out, and I find that a task is made
easy by cheerfulness.
“When I was traveling it became a burden for me to
go on the road, not because I disliked the business so
much, but that it took me away from my family often
when I wished to be at home.”


138
Stanley thought that he didn't blame Mr. Stone for
wanting to be at home with such a family. His errand
there was to gain the right to be there as well. Most of
their talk was upon business or social matters, Mrs.
Stone and Marjorie occasionally joining in. Stanley and
Marjorie both sang during the evening with considerable
feeling. In tủeir voices, however, there was a vein of sad-
ness, as if both knew and felt a premonition of what was
to come. Soon after, when Mr. and Mrs. Stone left the
room, Marjorie expected that Stanley would at once
request an answer. But he, as if fearing an approach to
the subject, talked on for over half an hour on varions
subjects; while she, all the time, was painfully conscious
of the pain she was to inflict.
At last he said, “May I now ask you for the reply to
my proposal? If you have given the subject as much
concern and thought as I have, you will have arrived at a
conclusion; one which I shall accept as the conscientious
outgrowth of an earnest effort to be just both to yourself
and to me."
“It has been continually on my mind and I have
thought it over," dropping her eyes, she paused for a
moment as if to consider the choice of words in which to
reveal to him her decision, and to give the least pain,
“and I hope you will view my reply in the same spirit in
which I have arrived at it and give it to you. Your con-
fidence in me is flattering and overwhelming. You have
placed your future at my disposal. I appreciate the trust,
it shall be sacred, and in return I will impose one upon
you. The union which you propose is one that may blight
or bless both our lives. Ought we not be sure that it
would prove a blessing, and that by nature and purpose
we are adapted to each other? The ceremonial rite should


139
be more than a mere form with its promises. It should
be the linking of soul to soul, so that the two would be as
one in life, and not separable in death. Are we certain
that these impulses move within us to bring us to such a
union?"
“ You have almost taken all argument out of my
mouth, but I hope that my feelings will convey to you
that which my lips have been unable to express. You
have not yet, by words, revealed to me the feeling of your
own heart toward me, whether it be love or the regard
given to a friend, but my own heart and purposes lie open
to you. If you can doubt the sincerity of my speech you
cannot the motives of my acts, which have all conformed
to the one end-to show the love I feel.”
“ I do not doubt you Mr. Stanley. I never have, but
sometimes we misunderstand ourselves. Our feelings bear
false impressions to the mind which only time dispels.
Can we trust ourselves to believe that our present feeling
will result in a life devotion, and that it is not a mere
fancy which is to be replaced by another should the other
prove stronger?”
“You shall have all the time you want," and he started
to embrace her thinking the field already won, but she
shrank away from him. “Let the engagement be as long
as it will, but let me rest in the hope that at the end all
will be well. To see purposes broken and hopes blighted
may not fall so keenly upon old age, for they who have
reached it have fought the battle of life and only await
the summons home. Disappointment is different in youth,
for theirs are the days of expectation and hope that color
all future prospects. With what dull hues would they be
painted when the bright tints at our command are
destroyed at the outset? Only a set firmness can overcome


140
the languor and the inaction which it invites.” There was
an appeal in voice and gesture, in eye and person, but she
remained firm, stemmed the tide of love in her own heart,
that would have rushed to and commingled with his, such
as only first love can, and spoke words that chilled him to
the marrow.
“We cannot be engaged now, Mr. Stanley. I do not
think it best; but if in one year from now, you and I are
constant in that love which desires its consummation in
perfect union, the test of time will have been applied.
Then we can renew these relations, having subdued self
and become better fitted to assume the near relation which
you would now press me to. If you love as I do the task
will not seem so hard because of the end to be gained
when it is finished.”
This was the first confession of love that her maiden
lips had ever given to lover, although from the trend of
her thoughts and bearing he had discovered it despite
previous efforts to hide it. Her acknowledgement did not
then soften the sting of refusal. It is a peculiar feature
of the mind that things which we desire most and are
reasonably certain of, we are the most apprehensive of. It
was so with Stanley. He was reasonably certain that she
loved him, and yet the least adverse circumstance made
him uncertain.
“I understand, I understand,” he said in an almost
inaudible tone as if speaking to himself. “Your love is
mingled with distrust. You think I have not sufficiently
analyzed my affections. You judge me too much by what
is past, rather than by what I have been for a year. This
cup of bitterness I must drink to the dregs for the past
fancies in which I have indulged, though it be at the
expense of my very soul. A balance sheet has been struck


141
between what I was and what I am, in favor of the past,
and you send me into exile to do penance for a year. And
now out of despair I shall drink the long and bitter
draught.
“No! No! No!” she cried beseechingly as she caught
his hand. “Do not talk so. Is not a life of happiness
worth a year of waiting, ayo more? Is it not meet that we
be schooled in the virtue of self-sacrifice to obtain that
which we long for? Oh Seth, let us prove to each other
that our love is no blind folly, but that like charity it can
suffer long and be patient. If we set a reward upon our
waiting by mutual promises, do we not rob ourselves of
the value of its schooling?”.
There was silence for a few moments. He was confused
and bewildered, and she, from a supplicating attitude, had
risen with her words to a bearing, that sought to instill
into him the courage and patience, the fortitude and self-
sacrifice which she possessed. While within, her beating
heart revolted at the idea of its love being hushed by a
period of self-imposed waiting. In conspicious contrast
to their silence the big clock on the mantle ticked louder
than ever, as if in compassion it sought to drown the sighs
and the rapid beating of their own hearts, tick! tack! tick!
tack! it went disturbing the stillness. Could it but'dole
out to one, the year, with the rapidity it doled out the
seconds or hours. Longfellow's “Old Clock” on the stairs
with its,
Forever-Never!
Never-Forever!
flitted across his mind and seemed to whisper to him,
which? He could not tell. After a few moments silence
he said. "I suppose it would be worse than useless, Mar-
jorie for me to try to change your decision, so completely


142
absorbed do you appear in this spirit of self-sacrifice; but
you have put a heavy task on me which now seems to make
my future uncertain and darker than the night without.
Hardships that are afar off we can often eliminate from
our mind by a blind, trusting to chance, and in our con-
ceits we even slight the inexorable scourge of the judg-
ment. But to know that I am to wander on the verge of
Elysian fields, always near yet far off, seems to overwhelm
me. But I will go. I will not tempt you further.' We
cannot tell what this may bring forth, so if it should be
our last meeting, mark my sincerety, so that in after years
you can refer to it with pleasant thoughts of memone
whom you could not trust.”
He rose to go but she caught one of his hands in hers
again, and laying the other gently upon his shoulder. She
turned her face, now pale, up to his, and met his gaze
unflinchingly; but through the tears glistening in her
eyes and stealing down her cheek, gleamed noble resolu-
tions and lofty inspirations, that seemed to pierce through
the vista of time and which impressed and carried all
before it. “Seth,” she said. “Seth you do not know what
you say. I can see just beyond this vale of self-sacrifice,
which I have chosen that we pass through, the brightest
future, that in this hour makes me rejoice. Let us prove
ourselves not unworthy of it. Let gossip be robbed of their
carping criticisms, and let despair be turned into triumph.
I have trusted you, and know that I trust you now so
that the memory of it may sustain you, so that you do
nothing rash.”
Her appeal, her tears, her profound convictions and
inspiration moved him greatly, and he felt a soothing
influence permeating his whole being; and the woeful har-
bingers he had conjured up in his mind began to dissolve


143
before her earnest persuasions as he repled. “I will try to
merit your confidence and trust.”
What was there then in his life-years, money, treas-
ure, that he would not have given to have .embraced her
and called her his own, his wife, at that moment. How
bitterly he regretted all past follies that had now returned
to render him miserable. How he closed the interview he
could not tell. The only thing he could remember was
pressing her hand and saying goodnight, as he went out
into the street; and the night, dark as it was, seemed but
feebly so in comparison with the confusion and bewilder-
ment to which his mind had now become a victim.


141
CHAPTER XX.
It was not ten o'clock when Stanley, whose brain was
partially stunned by the queer ending of his proposal, left
the Stone residence. The night was dark, and the vivid
flashes of lightning which disclosed heavy skurrying and
lowering clouds with ragged outlines, warned him of an
approaching storm. As he proceeded on his way, he
thought a great deal about Marjorie and her self-sacrifice,
and tried to think what course it would be best for him to
adopt for the future. Now even the hope of winning her
as his wife seemed forbidden him. Her strange request,
with the task it imposed upon him, as a natural sequence,
shut him out entirely from her presence. Under the cir-
cumstances he considered it better so, for how could be he
thrown continually in her society, without increase of
pain, by awakening a passion which must slumber, for
his peace of mind, until her set time had expired. As he
was passing along, he heard the soft strains of an organ
and the sound of voices singing a hymn, issuing from a
house near by. There was something in the air and
words that caused him to stop and listen. It was one he
had heard often, and it was now being sung by a family
that were concluding the evening devotion. It seemed in
his present condition to possess a significance he had not
felt before.
Again rose the voices:


145
“Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glorries pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see;
Oh thou who changest not, abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour,
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight and tears no bitterness."
Then the rain began to fall, and much against his will,
he was compelled to move on at a brisk rate, as he had no
umbrella with him, to escape a drenching. Yet the words
of the beautiful evening hymn had made a deep impres-
sion upon him, for both his mind and body, suffering from
the scene he had passed through, needed solace and com-
fort, to serve as an antidote for the gloom and darkness
which he had pictured as the result of Marjorie's test.
What comfort, he thought, the earnest Christian must
have in his simple faith. No prospects so dark, no events
so full of misfortune seems to destroy his faith in God and
Christ; though
“Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away,
Change and decay in all around he sees.”
Still he prays for the presence of the comforter. In try-
ing situations-accidents, reverses in business, in poverty,
loss of friends and love, he seeks only for the solace which
can be had through faith. The faith how simple. To
possess it how easy. How different is my own situation.
I distrust myself because of the vacancy in my life,
because through her, I drew the inspiration that has given
me strength. She has been the leaven of my existence.


146
Will I fall back into the old life; do not I need some sub-
stitute or aid that will fill the void. left by non-association
with her.” Again his mind reverted to the hymn, and he
· seemed to hear
“I need thy presence every passing hour,
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foo with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight and tears no bitterness.”
* Even the Christian must have something to rely on,
and that something is found in the Divine Presence to
keep him from the temptations of evil and to act as coun-
sellor and guide.” In this way his thoughts ran a long
while together with those of her. The more the words
ran in his mind the more significance they seemed to pos-
sess, and the better fitted did they appear to him in his
present distress. At last having unclothed himself he
went down upon his knees the first time since he was a
boy, and prayed for the continual presence of Him whose
grace could foil the tempter's power, who would be guide
and stay through cloud and sunshine, who would render
his non-association with her more bearable, and enable
him to make a virtue of this self-sacrifice by remaining
firm, so that he might in her eyes be considered worthy to
be called husband, and in the eyes of Him to be called
son. When he rose from his knees he felt comforted, and
lying in bed the soothing influence of the rain pattering
on the roof and street, seemed to sing over again the hymn
while it lulled him to sleep.
The following morning he went to work as usual and
tried to keep up a brave front. He desired to let his father
know the result of his prosposal, but because of the views


147
expressed by him on a former occasion he hesitated. Mr.
Stanley, however, noticing that he did not appear as well
as usual and that he looked a little haggard, asked him if
he was out late last night.
“Not very,” replied Stanley. “I was at Miss Stone's
and met with a disappointment which worries me a great
deal, as I was unprepared for it.”
“Proposed and was refused, eh?”
“ Not exactly, but it amounts to about the same thing.
She did not jump at the chance as quickly as you thought
she would.”
“ Tut, tut! You have a faint heart to let a girl outwit
you and then sit down and pine over it,” and without
waiting for a reply Mr. Stanley turned upon his heel and
walked away. He was dissatified with his son's failure
for he had not made any allowance for it. He was rather
put out too that a girl should knock out the under pins of
his argument as to the power and influence of wealth.
Since he could not congratulate his son he would not add
to his misery by chiding him, but as he went to his desk
he thought that Seth had a great deal to learn before he
could take his place. Stanley knew his father was disap-
pointed, but then his own chagrin was far greater. He
alone knew the circumstances, and the feeling that now
moved him could not be appreciated, perhaps, never felt
again by his father. With something like a sigh he took
up the large pile of communications that lay on his desk
needing attention. He went at it vigorously so as to
drown his thoughts, but the subject was so magnetic that
it drew his mind to it despite himself. He did not esteem
Marjorie Stone less because of her decision. He even
admitted her superior judgment in protecting herself,
although it was opposed to his most ardent wishes. To


148
keep her company further would be but to keep his love
inflamed with a constant realization of the present inexor.
able barrier between them. He must escape her company
to escape his own feeling. Reader, if you have ever had
your brightest anticipations suddenly brushed away when
they seemed almost certain of consummation, you may
know how Stanley felt.
The office seemed close to him. He longed to be out
in the open air where he could perhaps give greater vent
to his feelings, but it still rained and the streets were still
muddy so he made the most of it and tried to work.
Imogene again had reason to complain of him that
night, for despite her best efforts to draw him out he main-
tained a moody reserve. He seemed to be giving up to his
feeling, and was the worse for it, while he seemed to have
forgotten, for the time, that action of any kind is the best
tonic for disappointments. He realized that he was not
doing what was best for him, still he uplifted not a finger
to help himself. To all practical purposes, he was no bet-
ter off than a person in a trance, who, knowing everything
that is happening around them, are powerless to act.
With something like relief he heard the whirring of the
call announcing someone at the door. He jumped up to
answer it in person, and was surprised to see Parker and
Fox.
6 What brought you out such a night as this?"
"It wasn't the weather,” replied Parker, " although if
it keeps up it will bring the leaves out.
“Parker can't leave out his pun,” said Fox, "we always
come when it rains. We thought it would be an excellent
chance to catch you in and have a chat, some cards and—”
“It might be a relief from so much feminine society,"
interrupted Parker.


149
“Well I certainly am glad to see you both, and I know
Imogene will be too,” as they entered the room he had just '
left. “Won't you Imogene?”
“Yes, indeed,” she said, " for its been quite lonesome
and its so hard to try to entertain one who does not wish
to be.”
Stanley darted a reproachful glance at her and turned
to the others. “By the way, Parker, I suppose the boys
at the club are discussing their summer plans. Any of
them brought their yachts out?”
“No, but several are overhauling them. They expect
to go out as soon as the weather gets warm enough, and
take short trips to the Flats on a Saturday evening and
return Sunday nights.”
"I would like to go on one of those trips very much,”
said Imogene, “but you boys are so selfish.”
“When the season is further advanced and the weather
gets warmer we'll get up a party,” said Parker, “but say
Seth aren't you coming around anymore? ”
“I can hardly tell just yet. I have been so busy at the
store learning all the ropes so as to give father more recre-
ation, and I am besides so much occupied with a course of
reading that my time is pretty well taken up.”
“And occupied with a young lady on — street."
Stanley reddened and appeared confused. Fox, who
observed everything and suspected there was a hitch some-
where, to keep Parker from pursuing a subject he saw was
unpleasant to Stanley, proposed a game of pedro.
The young men remained with him quite a while and
as they were in excellent spirits it relieved his mind of the
strain upon it. After they had gone and his sister had
retired he again gave way to his feelings, and like men
when oppressed and downhearted he began to doubt. He


150
doubted most everything, for the time he had lost faith
in himself. It seems that distrust, doubt and selfishness
and curses laying near to the surface in our mental econ-
omy, od require but a little chafing to bring them to the
top. While this is a misfortune, it is fortunate for man-
kind that the blessings, hope, faith and charity, lie equally
near and and require but little effort also, to bring them
into prominence. In our mental economy the good and
the bad beneath the surface are so nicely adjusted that
the slightest influence either way calls up its correspond-
ing qualities. Stanley was in Doubting Castle, unaware of
the near approach of Giant Despair. While he was brood-
ing he happened to lay his head down carelessly npon a
paper that lay on the table beside him. He picked it up
and glancing carelessly over it, without aim or purpose,
for his mind was far from its contents, his attention was
drawn to an article that abounded with beauty of expres-
sion and thought. He read it through and was so pleased
with it that he cut it out and it formed the first article in
the scrap book he started the next morning. It read thus:
“It cannot be that earth is man's only abiding place. It
cannot be that our life is a bubble cast up by the ocean of
eternity to float a moment on its waves and sink into noth-
ingness. Else why these high and glorious aspirations
which leap like angles from our hearts forever wandering
and unsatisfied? Why is it that the rainbows of the
clouds come over us with a beauty that is not of earth
then pass off and leave us to muse on their loveliness?
Why is it that the stars that hold their festival around the
midnight throne are set above the grasp of our limited
faculties forever mocking us with their unapproachable
glory. And finally, why is it that the bright forms of
human beauty are presented to our views and taken from


151
us leaving the thousand streams of our affections to flow
back in Alpine torrents upon our hearts? We were born
for a higher destiny than earth. There is a realm where
the rainbow never fades, where the stars will be spread
before us like islands that slumber on the ocean, and
where the beautiful things that pass before us will stay
forever in our presence.”
The reading of the article turned his thoughts to those
of the night before, and between the two he found the
same longing or aspiration for higher things that seemed
to make men overcome obstacles and triumph over evil
habits and association. Such articles as these were now
attracting his attention and were having their effect on
him. · When he awoke that morning the first thing that
occurred to him was the blow he had received the night
before, and in brooding over this he had forgotten the les-
son he had derived from that evening hymn. He had
now left Doubting Castle. The scales of his mental econ-
omy were again readjusted. The evil was driven back,
and the good usurped its place. Now he associated the
two together. He had seen the thoughts contained in the
article before in reading Bulwer, now they had added
force and meaning. The thousand streams of an affection,
the likes of which he had never known, came flowing back
now. Why at some time would not the tide change and
he receive the consummation spoken of, when the things
we desire shall stay forever in our sight. “Say what you
will,” he reasoned with himself, “night is the time for
reflection. There is something in the stillness with which
we are surrounded that calls out our better natures. It
brings out our best selves, our thoughts are higher and
resolutions nobler. Why should I, who went to sleep
restful and contented, have awakened with a burden on my


152
heart that went with me throughout the day until by
chance I lighted on this article? Is it because the day
brings with it the full realization of our faults and
troubles? Are its influences detrimental to the good of
the ordinary individual, and is it only the strong mind
that can carry out the good resolves planned in the night?
Am I so weak that I must give way to this heart trouble
and allow its gloom to sway my better judgment? The
common drunkard who vows at night that he will not
touch another drop, who stops the next morning at the
first saloon to gratify his appetite is no more despicable,
mentally, than the man who has planned some worthy
action, or to do some necessary duty neglected or post-
poned, and who on the morrow warps his mind against his
better self. All are slaves. One to drink, one to inaction,
one to neglect, while I am to a morbid feeling. I must
conquer. I have a great battle to fight. Now, in the
night I feel it will be easy, but on the morrow when grief
and discontent rush pell-mell upon me, with the tortures
of a thousand questions from interested friends, I know
the fight will be stubborn. But why should it be so?
Why will not the possession of the thoughts that now
thrill me to triumph over self remain with me? Unless I
be a slave with a mind too weak and purposes too feeble I
shall carry more of them with me in the future than I did
today, and if I am to be schooled in the virtue of self-
sacrifice what matters it if the training be severe, I shall
profit in the end."


153
CHAPTER XXI.
In thinking that he had a hard struggle before him,
Stanley was right, and on the following morning he began
to think of plans by which his future should be guided.
His father owned a farm in North Lenawee County, that
bordered on one of the beautiful sparkling lakes for which
that region is particularly noted. He thought once of
going there for the summer, taking his library with him,
and for a time live like a recluse—spending his time in
study and meditation, with the fields, hills and lakes for
his outdoor companions, and his books for his bosom
friends. This idea he soon dismissed from his mind, like
many other plans. He thought he had better stick to
business and engage a competent tutor to help him in his
evening study. He realized that he was deficient in many
things, and he wanted to choose a course of study and
reading that would bring him the most solid return in
stored knowledge, so that the year might be one of profit
in more ways than one, and that in the event of Marjorie
and he being again thrown together, he would not be her
mental inferior as he knew himself to be now.
However he decided not to chose at once, but to leave
the matter over a week or two, in order to thoroughly can-
vass his situation. Despite the peace of mind he had
obtained the evening before, in yielding up to noble
inspirations, his mind was still so confused that he thought
it unwise to act hastily. He could not fully comprehend
Marjorie's position yet. She certainly had confessed that


154
she loved him, but she also distrusted him. What such a
mental combination would lead to, he could not tell. He
was at times impatient, jealous and melancholy by turns,
and became for a while so morose that the clerks at the
store shunned him. His sister stood in awe of him, and
his father watched him with a feeling akin to disgust, and
actually felt ashamed that a son of his should give up to
such a morbid feeling.
As the days sped by Stanley felt the need of a trusted
friend in whom he could repose confidence, and perhaps,
receive comfort. He shrank from making confidants of
either Parker or Fox, not because they were unfitted, but
because, to an extent, they had been sharers of his confi.
dences and pleasures, when his heart was light and his
purposes chiefly pleasure. To trust either to the secret of
his present situation, be the outcome what it may, he could
not. While Parker was naturally light hearted, he had
many good points, but he was then spending much of his
time with Miss Downing, with whom he was infatuated.
Fox while loving pleasure, was very studious, and observed
a great deal, and while. Stanley appreciated him he rather
dreaded his lynx eyes. He admired his learning, but to
have him as a confidant-well, he wouldn't do.
Spring was now far advanced, and the evenings were
pleasant, so when oppressed by his thoughts he would go
up to the boat house, get out his row boat, and take a
spin up the river. Sometimes when he was particularly
gloomy, to drive the spell from him, he put such vim into
his stokes as to make his boat fairly fly through the water.
This caused some of his former friends to think that he
must be getting into trim for work during the summer.
Under this tension he was perhaps less careful than he
ordinarily would have been, and the seeds of malaria were


-
-
---
-
155
sown in his body that afterwards made themselves appar-
ent, when his spirits and his strength were weakened by
confinement. His casual appearance, now and then, was
hailed with delight by his former acquaintances, for Stan-
ley was well liked and a general favorite among the boys.
He had also taken to novel reading, partly as a diversion,
and also for further acquaintance with the standard
authors. The works of Hugo, Dickens, Read, Cooper, 7
Bulwer, Elliott and others adorned his library shelves,
intermingled with some of lighter vein. In resorting to
novel reading he argued that by the time he had finished
them. he would be in such perfect control of himself as to
be ready for more solid thought, then he would be ready
for a tutor. More than once when thus engaged, he had
laid aside his book mechanically, and under the influence
of former association and the impulse of the moment, he
found himself on the familiar route to her home. Once as
he passed by he caught a glimpse of her through the win-
but he dared not trust himself to enter. However by dint
of close application he found his desire for study increas-
ing, and his library constantly filling with the new books
he saw, and thought he would like to read. What his
definite course would have been had he been left to him-
self to decide, is not known; but an accident occured to
him, the consequence of which, opened up to him a plan
of action, which ushered in the most stirring period of his
life.
Events as well as years are chroniclers of time, whether
we apply them to the history of nations or of individuals.
History is divided into epochs, the central ideas of which
are those of men who have put into being the events
around which cluster all the minor events and ideas of
their epoch and which control them. The birth of the


156
Nazarene, whom we call Christ, the son of God, unsettled
all old chronologies or systems of reckoning time. We
date from that event because it is considered the greatest
in the world's history, and because the teachings he pro-
mulgated are made the principles of what is now called
the civilized world. With individuals the merest chance
or accident in their lives has had for its result the shaping
of their future careers, and from it they date all preceding
and subsequents events in their lives. Cæsar might not
have been the the Cæsar the world knows had not the
intrigues of rivals forced him to cross the Rubicon, and
begin the career that gave him an imperishable name, and
ended in his becoming the head of the Roman world—the
greatest of men. The falling of an apple suggested to
Newton thoughts which resulted in the discovery of the
laws of gravitation. Accident and chance have been great
factors in the world.
One day during the latter part of May as Stanley stood
near the freight elevator giving orders concerning the
shipment of goods, some one from above pulled the rope
and it started downward. The noise from the street com-
ing through the open door drowned the slight noise it
made in its approach. Nearer it came, and just as one of
the employees with a loaded truck came near to Stanley
he stepped backward to get out of the way, and in doing
so unconsciously stepped under the elevator. The ship-
ping clerk saw his danger, and had no more than time to
shout a warning before Stanley was struck squarely on top
of his head and knocked senseless to the floor. Anxious
hands grasped the ropes and the elevator stopped just in
time to save him from being crushed beneath it. He was
hurriedly pulled from under it, carried out into the open
air, and a doctor immediately sent for. Some one notified


157
his father, and he, wild with excitement, came rushing
down to where his son was. For once the man of inflex--
ible will lost his nerve and was helpless. He rushed
around aimlessly wringing his hands and calling for water,
and ended by sending another man to the telephone to
summon the family physician. The harsh words he had.
uttered a few days since, and his sullen demeanor to his
boy rushed upon him in a flood of remorse, and he
regretted that he had not been kinder to his boy in his
hour of trial. How vivid the mind is in presence of dan-
ger? With what exactitude it recalls the minutest details
of acts, conversations and thoughts? Mr. Stanley's con-
science smote him hard as he watched, waited and hoped
for some sign of returning consciousness.
Before either doctor came Stanley regained conscious-
ness and opened his eyes. He saw the crowd around him
and noticed that he was lying on a hastily made pallet, his
head supported on the lap of one of the employees, his
father before him stroking his dark hair in utter bewilder-
ment and helplessness. In a rather faint voice, whose
weakness startled him, he inquired what had happened
and started to rise, only to find that his strength was sud.
denly gone. He felt a dull, aching pain in his head, a
feeling of extreme lassitude all over his body, and a sharp
throbbing pain where he had been struck by the elevator.
Those around him, in a gentle way that was rough at its
best, were doing what they could to alleviate his pain, and
trying to stay the flow of blood from the wound by apply-
ing bandages. They were rewarded then with a faint.
smile. He realized that something must have happened
to him, but how or where he had no conception, and those
around him were too excited to give him an intelligent
answer. Panic had seized upon them, occasioned by the


158
**
P.97
dread of what the “old man” might do, if he thought the
accident could be attributed to carelessness.
When Stanley smiled his father bent down and asked
eagerly, “Seth, my boy, do you feel better? You are hurt
badly, and must not stir."
"I feel all right, father," he replied faintly. “Take
me home.”
“Poor boy,” said his father.
“Poor fellow," echoed a few of the clerks. “It is too
bad.”
"The doctor will be here in a few moments," said Mr.
Stanley, still rubbing his son's hand, and paying no atten-
tion to the expressed sympathy of his employees. “He
will know better what to do than we. Lay quietly for a
few moments. I wonder why that confounded doctor don't
hurry up,” he added impatiently. “Here are fifteen min.
utes wasted. Here, you!” turning to a clerk who stood
by looking on like a statue, “put on your hat and go find
him.” The clerk was off before he had finished and met
the doctor at the door. Dr. Barker, the first physician
sent for, at once went to work to examine the extent of
the injury. He inquired as to the speed of the elevator,
so as to calculate the force of the blow, the length of time
he had been unconscious, and about his previous condi-
tion. He then examined Stanley's head and found a dark
blue spot, from which trickled a little blood. The skin
was abrased in places, and although the blow had been
heavy the skull was not fractured.
“A mere scalp wound”, he said, “Nothing more serious
will result from it than a probable series of headaches and
a little nervousness.”
“Then he will be around in a few days?” asked Mr.
Stanley.


159 ,
...
.
.
....
“Oh yes, if his general condition is good. How has.
he been for the past few days?”.
“Well in body, but a little downhearted. Nothing
serious."
“He'll pull through all right then," said the doctor
reassuringly.
A carriage was sent for and Stanley sent home, the
family physician, Dr. Pillworth, arriving in time to accom-
pany him. While he substantially agreed with Dr. Barker
as to the nature of the wound, he did not take as bright a
view of Stanley's condition and quick recovery. He saw
behind the bruises a disconsolate look and from his bodily
weakness he feared he might be attacked with brain fever,
and he took immediate steps to prevent it. He was for-
bidden to read and urged to be cheerful.
“ You don't think his condition dangerous Doc, do
you?” Mr. Stanley had known Dr. Pillworth a long time
and always addressed him familiarly as “Doc.”
“The wound is not dangerous, but it is the effect it
may have on the mind, is what I am afraid of. Care is
what he needs, and care is everything. Isn't it so doctor?"
turning to Dr. Barker.
“Yes, sir, there is as much in care as there is in medi-
cine. If his body is weak he must have it. There may
be lurking in his system, the seeds of malaria. I do not
say there is, but if there should be any, it will assert itself,
and there is no telling what malaria will do."
Dr. Pillworth's fears were realized, he was mistaken.
only in the nature of the disease. Malaria was lurking in
his veins as the result of his exposure, and it took advan-
tage of his depressed condition to assert the mastery. Dr.
Pillworth went about his patient with a serious counte-


160
-
*****
nance and to the anxious inquiries of Mr. Stanley only
said, “There is no telling what malaria will do."
From the first John Saunders was detailed to act as
nurse, much against Stanley's request, because he did not
think he needed a nurse. But later when malaria fastened
its grip upon him, Saunders became a necessity, both as
nurse and entertainer. The first week of his malarial
attack he was a very sick patient, sometimes he was delir-
ious. Then his mind always dwelt on Marjorie, and he
continually upbraided her and protǝsted against her decis-
ion. But with constant care he began to mend, aided by
the delightful June weather, until he was able to move
about though considerably emaciated. The turning point
of his sickness had been marked by an event. The event
turned the tide. Before this he had been so ill that all
visitors were excluded from his room.


161
CHAPTER XXII.
During this time, Marjorie Stone was by no means
happy. When he went out from her presence, despite her
confidence, she felt disturbed in mind. The great mental
strain under which she labored, was telling upon her, and
her resolute will now forsook her. Sitting down one day
she gave full vent to her feelings in tears. She wept bit-
terly for some time, and began to upbraid herself. Love
for him was asserting itself and punishing her for not
yielding to it. Can you blame him if in the time you
have impossed upon him he seeks relief, and finds it and
love, in the person of another, and never comes back? This
and similar queries rushed in upon her and made her rest-
less. Her nature was devout and she sought comfort and
found it in Him who has promised aid to all who call upon
Him.
Since that night she had suffered a great deal, for
nature cannot be outraged with impunity. She missed his
frequent visits, his cheery conversations, the long drives
and that contentment she felt when in his presence. Not
even the companionship of Flora Stedman, and her other
girl friends, or the deep sympathy of her mother could
compensate for his absence. She loved, and like all per-
sons of her temperament, she loved ardently, with her
whole soul. She had miscalculated her strength and her
love wrought fears. She chided herself on being too severe.
She felt that he would attribute her decision to her dis-
trust of him. Seeking for objects on which to vent blame,
she blamed society and its small talk in saying that she was


162
only going to marry Stanley for his money; she blamed
herself for giving heed to it--thereby causing this great
sacrifice to self, her heart qualms, and the humiliations
she must have cast upon him. Would he return? The
thought was parent to the wish that he would, or would he
spurn her for her weakness. The pain, the misery, she
was in, can be conceived only by those in like situations.
Her burdens she carried to her mother who did her best to
console. She tried to prevent her from being too discon-
solate and from judging herself too harshly, by telling her
that there was wisdom in her choice, and that if his love
were genuine it would not be quenched by waiting, but
grow with its hunger. At such times Marjorie would say,
“Ah! mother, but my heart aches so." There is no pain
like that of love abused, other pains are perhaps more
intense, sharper and more dangerous, but that continuous
gnaw and ache, that tugs at our heart strings, always with
us, in our sleeping and waking hours, creating misery and
making us so wretched, is without equal. Is it not so, dear
reader?
Marjorie would have liked to have seen the conditions
of her decision broken. She would have liked to have had
his society for the year without the committal, and each
day found her hoping that he would come to renew their
relations. In the morning she thought, “I hope he will
come today.” In the evening, “He will surely come
tomorrow.” Thus the time wore away; her cheeks began
to get paler, and her form to droop. She used to sit some-
what hidden by the lace curtain in the recesses of the front
bay window, when her sense of loneliness overcame her,
and look up the street in the direction he was wont to
come. The night that he passed the house and caught a
glimpse of her, she was watching as usual. When she


163
saw him her blood quickened in her veins, and her heart
beat furiously. The innerself was in a tumult of love,
fear and hope, while the outerself was calm and apparently
busily engaged in a piece of work, while in fact her fingers
trembled so that she lost several stitches. He must not
see the glad light that shone in her eyes so she kept her
head down while pride and nature struggled for the
mastery. Pride won and while she was conscious that
his step was hesitating as he passed the gate, she did
not see the hungry look in his eyes as he passed and
gazed in upon her. With downcast eyes she hoped every
minute to hear his step upon the walk and the ring of the
bell, and still she refused to look up with the smile, the
look, that would have assured her of such a thing. Of
what a mass of contradictions human nature is made. We
actually suffer from the want of the food of love—a smile
or a look and we refuse it when within our grasp. We see
souls in torture, that we wish to comfort, the opportunity
is offered, and we pass it by. The next minute we bitterly
reproach ourselves for our heartlessness, and conscience
pricks and stings, oh, so hard. These things Marjore now
suffered. What a hateful thing is pride. Pride, that
having obtained the mastery, gloated over her pain, and
mocked at her aches. Pride, the monster, that had
influenced her decision, prevented the look, the smile that
would have brought happiness to two hearts.
Despite the wisdom of judgment on her side, and her
mother's sympathy, her heart aches were harder to bear
than Stanley's, for she had not the avenues of ridding her
mind of its singleness that lay in his reach. Naturally
the requirements of business turned his thoughts, at
times, into other channels, and relieved it, while in the
quiet of home life she had to nurse her feeling.


164
“ Man's love is with him a thing apart,
While 'tis woman's whole existence."
and he who wantonly steals the love of a confiding maid
and disturbs her peace of mind, by being recreant to his
trust when once her confidence is bestowed upon him, is
responsible for a greater crime than he imagines.
With a person of her qualities it is not to be supposed
that she brooded continually, or that melancholy fed upon
her cheeks, or that she pined away, in lamenting her lot.
She gradually conquered her feeling, and in time she
began to look at the matter in the same light as when she
had decided upon the tests of his affection. Not that
she loved him less, but at times cold impartial reasoning,
aided by absence, gained the ascendency, for if his love
could not stand the test, it was not fit to mate with hers.
The evening of the day that Stanley met with his acci.
dent in her old place in the bay window, she sat looking
over an evening newspaper. Suddenly she turned pale
and almost dropped the paper, for there staring her in
the face, was an article of great vital interest to her, with
great headlines.
NARROW ESCAPE.
SETH STANLEY SERIOUS-
LY INJURED.
• And Almost Crushed to
Death by Freight
Elevator.
The article was lengthy and went into the particulars
of the accident as far as the reporter had been able to
glean the facts from the excited employees, and for the


165
rest he drew upon his imagination. It cited the fact of
Doctors Barker and Pillworth being called in and gave their
opinions as being adverse to quick recovery; that there
were severe fractures in the skull and that both doctors
feared brain fever. Recovery was rendered uncertain
because of the weakness of his body. The article concluded
saying that Mr. Seth Stanley was a very popular young
man, who for some years had traveled extensively and was.
one of the leaders of his circle in planning and devising
means of enjoyment. He was an enthusiastic young ath-
lete fond of all outdoor exercises in which he had attained
great proficiency. The last year, however, he had given
strict attention to business, the old familiar haunts had
seen him no more, and he had been paying assiduous
court to one of Detroit's belles.
Dismay struggled with confusion as she read the
article through several times, and when she had fully com-
prehended its meaning she sank back nerveless in her
chair, ovelwhelmed by the rush of apprehensive anxiety.
All color forsook her cheek, and she looked like some inan-
imate statue, so pale and lifeless she seemed. In this con-
dition her mother found her on coming into the room a
few moments later. She saw at once that Marjorie had
fainted, and being of a practicable turn of mind and not
given to hysterics she took the necessary means to restore
her. As the result of her efforts Marjorie soon recovered
and went to her room. Her mother did not ask her the
cause of her weakness, but waited until her daughter chose
to tell her. When she returned to the room the paper
still lay where it had fallen, and picking it up she after-
ward saw the article that had so upset her daughter.
Experience had taught her that not everything that
appeared in newspapers was wholly true, and that first


167
!
PS. MUST
CHAPTER XXIII.
The next day the morning paper was eagerly scanned,
and in it she found a reference to the article. It stated
that while the wound was painful, the skull was not frac-
tured, that his general condition was not as bad as made
out by a sensational evening paper, and that barring fever,
he would quickly recover, as he was a man of great consti-
tutional strength. Marjorie felt better after this and later
reports confirmed the news. A week or so later, the
weather being exceptionally fine, she went out shopping
and chanced to meet Imogene, whose face lighted up on
seeing her.
“Oh, Marjorie, I am real glad to see you. Did you
know that Seth has been hurt? Now malaria has attacked
him. I tell you what, our house is busy now.”
“Is he very sick ?”
“I should say that he was. John Saunders has been
sent up from the store to attend him. We could not. He
is light-headed and delirious. Mrs. Burwell thinks he is
dangerously ill."-
“But the doctor, what does he say?"
“Oh, Dr. Pillworth looks wise and solemn and shakes
his head when he comes out of the room, and to our inqui-
ries he says, “ He is in a bad way,” if we ask, will he get
better soon? with a solemn tone he answers, “I hope so,
but you can't tell anything about malaria.” She imitated
the manner and tone of the doctor, and caused Marjorie
to smile. “Wont you come and see me sometime? The


168
56
house is solemn we need some one to cheer us up occasion-
ally.”
Imogene did not suspect the changed relations between
her brother and Miss Stone, and her complete innocence
showed in her manner, so Marjorie promised.
“You know that you promised to be like a sister to me,”
continued Imogene, “and I–I, well I haven't seen you for
some time.”
Marjorie stammered out some commonplace remark,
about having been busy or indisposed.
“You look awfully pale to," prattled on the uncon-
scious Imogene, as she noted her appearance. I guess
you need the doctor's aid also. Isn't it too bad that all
the people I am most interested in seem to have the
dumps, are sick or look bad at the same time? It does
beat all."
All these allusions were inward stabs to Marjorie.
They were all the deeper and more painful because
she thought herself responsible, in part, for them. But
desiring to know all, by dint of a few question, she gleaned
from Imogene the full extent of Seth's accident and sick.
ness. Imogene possessed a great deal of her brother's art
of entertaining, and having someone to talk to, she
rattled away at a terrific rate, and laughed at her own
little follies and conceits, while her smiles chased away
some of that sad look that had settled upon Marjorie's
countence.
The remembrance of her promise to Imogene was ever
in her mind, and mingled with a strong desire to see Stan-
ley, a few days latter, as she sat thinking about him the
desire seemed to grow. It made her anxious and restless.
If anything, she had become a trifle paler and thinner,
and the blood forsaking her cheek, left the skin a marble


170
Saunders to arrange the room, and to Imogene, "you may
come up in a few moments."
Saunders, who was a very neat and tasty person, soon
had the room in presentable shape. He was pleased too,
for he had noted the glad look in the sick man's eyes.
Nothing like it had he seen since he had been acting as
nurse, and he thought it augured well for the patient.
Then at a word from Stanley he went down and announced,
“ That Mr. Stanley would be pleased to have them come
up now.” He accompanied them to the room and then
started for the chamber that had been Stanley's until the
noise of the street compelled his removal to a more quiet
room, when he was called by Imogene, who had happened
to think that perhaps they might prefer that there should
be no witness of their meeting. Upon the pretense of giv-
ing John some order, she ushered Marjorie into the room,
and asked to be excused for a few moments.
Stanley, propped up by pillows, looked pale and
emaciated, but his eyes lighted up with joy as he saw her
enter the room. In her simple costume, to his eager eyes,
she looked far more beautiful than any poet's dream, as
with moistened eyes, she came toward him holding the
flowers in her hand. When she saw him so pale and
emaciated she was moved to pity, and tears unbidden
gathered in her eyes as with tremulous voice she said,
“ you will please excuse me for coming unbidden, Mr.
Stanley, but I heard of your accident and subsequent
illness, and was so sorry to hear of it that I have brought
you these flowers as a reminder of spring, and as an
expression of my deep sympathy and hope for your quick
recovery. Further, I would say that my conscience is
clear of any wrong toward you.
Stanley took the flowers as he said, “I thank you with


171
all my heart Miss Stone for these flowers, and for this
visit. You have done nothing to excuse. Let us forget,
for the time that I was a too ardent lover. I have been
convinced that in that matter you are wiser than I. I
could not trust myself to continue my visits for fear that
I might trespass on that which was forbidden. Your
assurance, however, lightens the task which I have tried
cheerfully to bear.” His eyes spoke more than his lips
expressed.
This ended all allusion to the past. Then Imogene
came in, and they chatted merrily. The sick man, as far
as he was able, joined in with them, and the improvement
that was going on in him was wonderful. He kept them
laughing with droll stories, while she told him of the hap-
· penings during his illness and of future events in musical
circles.
They did not remain long and in parting Marjorie
shook hands with him. As she did so there was such a
wistful look in his dark eyes that she was deeply touched.
She remained a while longer with Imogene, and when
she went home she felt more at ease with herself. She was
happier and lighter hearted than she had been for many a
day. Stanley from the hour of her visit began to improve,
slowly at first, but the pains had left his head and malaria
racked his frame less. Dr. Pillworth predicted, while he
wondered at the marvelous change, that he would soon be
able to drive out. Mind, after all, controls more than
medicine, and Marjorie's call and flowers had brightened
up his mind and robbed it of its gloom and despondency.
Had Marjorie known the excellent effect her visit had upon
that house, and the happiness she had brought to it, her
heart would have been lighter still, and all the more cheer-
fully would have looked forward to the time when her self-
imposed task would be finished, and to its result.





BOOK II.





175
CHAPTER 1.
Stanley's improvement was rapid and he was soon able
to sit up. Then Saunders selected books from the library
and read to him. When tired of listening and reading
they talked over what they had read. These conversations
revealed to Stanley something of the extent of Saunders
information, his wide range of reading and his wonderful
retentive memory. While his intelligence was a matter
of never failing and increasing wonder to him.
John Saunders enjoyed this diversion. He was glad to
escape from the confinement of the office these pleasant
days. He was glad to have gained the measure of Stan-
ley's confidence which he could easily discern. Besides,
he had access to the library, which contained many choice
and valuable works, and he made good use of his time and
opportunity. He was a great reader and had spent much
time in searching for the connection between the African
of today, and those Egyptians and Ethiopians who played
so prominent a part in ancient history. He had read
Herodotus, Plutarch, Rawlinson, Muller, Blumenbach and
cther writers of ancient history, for the purpose of seeing
how their views of the different races of men, compare
with bible history. There were slaves in those days,
black and white, but who, on obtaining their freedom,
became mingled with the free citizens and further trace of
thein as men of different nationality or color was lost.
This was different to the experience of his class in America
and was a puzzler. He had read in Plutarchi's life of


176
Marius that this soldier in his African wars, had been
very successful. He had captured many slaves and was
returning home in triumph, when rivals, jealous of his
success, secured a decree of banishment against him
from the Roman Senate and had his command taken
from him. His army espoused the cause of their leader.
He promised his numerous Ethiopian slaves, if they would
fight for him, freedom and the privileges of Roman citi.
zenship. Marius fought, conquered and returned to Rome
in triumph. The after fate of these new made citizens,
history furnished him no inkling, nor could he find any
allusion to them as a distinct class of the people. Finally
he came to this conclusion, that the Roman citizen did not
cherish that prejudice against race so common among
Americans, and Americans only.
Less than a week after Stanley was able to take a little
outdoor exercise, they had taken a morning drive and in
the afternoon took their usual station on the lawn. Saun-
ders had read for some time when Stanley somewhat
abruptly interrupted his reading by saying:
“Let the books go for a while, John, I want to talk to
you. Do you know that I think you're a very clever
fellow, and I have often thought that it was too bad that
you are colored? If you were a white man I could make
a companion of you that would stand me well in hand for
a year at least. I owe you considerable already.”
“Is my color all that causes you to think less of me?"
“Your color doesn't matter so much to me at all, but
people would talk if I should take you for a companion.
I do not mean any insult to you,” Stanley said confusedly
and apologetically, "for you are different from other
colored men."
“Not one bit different from hundreds of others whom


177
em
та
I know. I consider many of my associates just as intelli-
gent and some, perhaps, are more so. No doubt the same
thing has been said to them by white people they have
come in contact with, as it is not the first time it has been
said to me. Such remarks show that no race has a pre-
mium on intelligence, and that racial superiority is a
sham. It also proves that under equal conditions equal
results will follow.”
“I would be glad,” said Stanley, “if it were different.
I think a colored person is as good as a white one if he
behaves as well and is as intelligent.”
“I can convince you differently,” replied Saunders.
“If to-morrow I should prove unworthy of your trust you
would at once say'all niggers are alike,' and I would be
the last colored person to ever get a situation from you
while a hundred of your white employees might do much
worse. You would simply discharge him and hire another
without thinking of his nationality. With us the many
have to suffer for the sins of the one. With others the
one alone suffers. Isn't that a difference?”
Stanley thought for a moment before he said, “I guess
you are right about that, and it isn't right either. Still I
have always treated you well, I don't take any credit for it
either, for you have deserved it.
Saunders thought, “If I had been white would I have
been detailed to act as nurse? Would I have had to leave
my duties as I have often done to serve as a valet or do
other duties not consistent with that of my position,” but
he said, " I thank you for the compliment, but while we
are talking about these things I will call your attention to
a few little overy-day prejudices, practiced thoughtlessly
perhaps, but they are hurtful and humiliating. I will
cite you a case right here in this city. There are scores of


178
intelligent Afro-Americans, young men and women, some
graduates from the common schools, others from the high
school, and still others from different universities through-
out the States. How many hold places of honor and trust?
You can almost count them on your fingers ends. Is it
because they are unworthy, incapable or ignorant? No.
Philanthropists and politicians tell us to get education
and money, and the race question will settle itself. But
these same philanthropists and politicians will not carry
their theories into practice by giving us profitable employ-
ment. Their trees are barren. I might travel today, as
many another one of us has done, this city over from store
to store, with the best of references as to honesty and cap-
ability, and hardly one man in a thousand would consider
my application seriously in any capacity save that of por-
ter. We have young ladies intelligent above the ordinary,
fully equal to and superior to the majority of girls that
clerk in the stores. They are of pleasing address, comely
in features and fair to look upon, yet the fact that their
skins are dark, or that there is a slight trace of African
about them shuts them out from all such situations. And
the excuse is so flimsy.”
.“ What is it?"
"That their clerks won't work with colored people.
How many of your employees left when I entered your
firm? Not one. Clerks do not work for sentiment but
for bread and butter, and if a merchant once tells them
that if they don't want to work, because he has employed
a colored person or any other person, they can quit, they
will work all right enough. For a sentimental prejudice
will yield when it inteferes with one's livelihood. I have
proof of this. But candidly, can a race improve rapidly
under such conditions ?”


179
“Not as rapidly as it might otherwise. But don't be
disconsolate John. There is a better day coming for the
colored people and you may live to see it. Meditations on
what might have been, are the dark valleys through which
the soul passes, into which only gleams of hope can enter.
It is better to dwell on the anticipations of the possibilities
of the future, than to brood over misfortunes that are the
realities of the past. He who lives and thinks only of the
past, is sure to dwell on the dark side of what he has
passed through. He finds only bitterness in his reflec-
tions, that influences his whole expectations of the future.
Our constant hope of the blessings that lie just beyond.
smooths the path of life as we go. I speak from exper-
ience, but it has come as the result of my own folly.
Desires gratified without cost, often so pampers a man,
that he plunges into excess. Sometimes he plunges right
on to ruin, and becomes a wreck, sometimes an incident.
reveals his folly, and he awakens to a repentance that
makes memory, for a time, a gaul of bitterness."
“Few men,” replied Saunders, “have escaped the exper-
iences descriped by a man of passion, (Burns) that when
the passions are excited, conscience flees like the shadows
of night before the morning sun, and that when the pas-
sions are gone, conscience comes creeping back like a sleuth
hound on our track. But man's chiefest manhood lies in.
those impulses which move him to pennance. Often
when in the imbrace of despair, I have felt as if I would like
to take off the brakes, and be what the enemies and malign-
ers of my race say we are—unfit for association and
recognition, and devoid of all manly attributes. You
have a prospect to live for, but what incentive have I
except that I must render unto God an account for deeds
done in the flesh? That promise of the future is alone the


180
inspiration for me to live an upright and an honorable life
among men.”
“Now that is where you make a mistake. A man may
commit one error in youth, the effects of which will last
for years, and darken his life. The same is true of races.
What your race is passing through, ours has passed. We
have spent our time beneath the yoke, we have been
branded and disgraced. What condition could be more
abject than that of the English people at the time of the
Norman conquest, or what can equal the feudal system
that prevailed in Europe? The time has not been so long
since the masses among the Caucasians have attained lib-
erty of action and thought, and the struggle is still on-
Russia is the scene of strife. Action and thought are still
enslaved. The Jew is still made a mark of opprobrium.
The colored people are in the youth of their general devel-
opment, although they have furnished conspicious exam-
ples of men of superior ability, many of whom are widely
known and respected. Even I, with my limited knowledge
of affairs can point to a few men, and they are but the
marks of the possibilities of the bulk of your people.
Men never arrive at complete satiety in this life, for inven-
tive want is too prolific with ideas. We often envy other
men their positions, from our standpoint it seems the acme
of happiness and content. When we attain like conditions
we are still unsatisfied. We aspire for something higher,
and when too late, we see some beauty in the life behind
and sigh for the past and the might have beens. Inordi-
nate ambition is a bane to mankind in that it swells dis-
content and blinds their eyes to the opportunities in their
station of life. I am convinced that it is the advantage
taken of apparently trivial circumstances that make grand
men.”


183
him that his cause is just his grievance becomes magni-
fied. If you agree to the full extent of his claims his
cause of complaint is doubly magnified to himself. Most
all of the pernicious isms of our day, so dangerous to gov-
ernment, are the result of commiserating spirits mutually
magnifying their wrongs, until in a frenzy of excitement
judgment and reason are overthrown and the passions
reign. Sympathy is the bond of human fellowship. It
unravels the secrets of the heart, the longings, the aspir-
ations, but it should be used with judgment. It is worthy
to use it in the interest of the oppressed struggling for
light so as to get at the objects of their desires. It is
noble to use it to inspire men on to noble thought and
action, and to relieve the cry of the people that wells up:
against most unrighteous wrongs. It is grand to use it to
inspire'a race upon whom odium is heaped, whose ambi-
tions are checked by environments, to struggle on to over-
come the barriers. Saunders was a man with a grievance.
Stanley's sympathy had called it out, the discontent was
checked, and the inspiration to hope took its place. This
is the proper way to treat a man with such complaints.
Sympathy was rightly shown and no doubt even Stanley
felt the impassioned fire that surged in Saunders' veins.
He no doubt felt a few of the noble resolutions that helped
him in his own battle with self, as he witnessed this man
pacing to and fro depicting a race's struggle.
After pausing a while he continued: “Amidst degrad-
ing influences and the wreck of morals, despite the heat
of prejudices, the slanders of enemies and the calumnies
of society, while bodies were made barters of merchandise,
the soul products of exchange and women means of com-
merce in flesh, lofty manhood and inborn courage was still
preserved. The world has not seen a grander type of


184
nobler manhood than the black African prince, who
achieved Haytian independence-Touissant L'Overture.
They who would deny us instincts above the brute, or
view us an inferior race, seem to forget that we too, fought
for American independence, and for the maintenance of
the Union. Our blood, in the person of Attucks, was the
first to be shed for independence. Our forces in the field
brought down rebellion's head, while the bravery and
courage of our troops at the “Crater,” Fort Wagner,
Olustee, Honey Hill and a hundred other battle fields, are
not excelled in history. Can we not justly claim, in view
of our environments, that the people of the Republic are
ungrateful? Not alone on the field of battle displaying
courage, have we proven that in us are the same instincts,
desires and ambitions that move other races. Under
slavery, the many beneficial inventions emanating from
the brain of the slave, became the property of the master
who received all credit. Under the inspiration of freedom,
inventive skill is showing itself as may be proved by the
records at Washington. A Greek grammar, the product
of one of our race is the text book of one of our celebrated
Eastern colleges. There are many who are as great and
as deserving in their field as those you have mentioned.
In all localities there are many who have commanded
attention and honor by dint of superior ability over their
fellows, and this has been won without the aid of the
hypocritical politician, or the weeping philanthropists,
who have only words for an answer to appeals for work.
If I could find a sufficient number of men whose actions
would be in comport with their words whose hearts beat
as yours, I would have no cause to ever despair. But we
have taken up the whole afternoon in talk, what shall we
take up next?"


185
“The talk has been very profitable to me, and I shall
make it so to you. You have made me see many things
in a different light from what I have hitherto viewed them
and I am constrained to believe you have a righteous com-
plaint against your country and against society. Some
day we will try to more fully discuss how it can be rem-
edied. By the way, I intend to spend my vacation at the
farm with Parker, Morgan and Fox, and you shall keep us
company."
Saunders expressed his thanks and they then re-entered
the house.
Seth's condition was now so much better that in a few
days Mr. Stanley thought it would be better for Saunders
to go back to the store, which he did thinking of the great
interest father and son seemed to take in him, and his com-
ing vacation. Stanley, however, missed the long, congen-
ial talks, when John had gone. He had not fully recovered
and was at times subject to disagreeable headaches. He
made occasional visits to the store and did a little work to
keep his hand in. as he was far from feeling as depressed
as before. Marjorie's call had relieved his mind of a great
doubt, and he was more content to stand by her dictum.
Besides, 'whenever he felt a little gloomy, he thought of
Saunders, and that conversation when his inner soul had
been revealed, and he compared his own burden with that
of one whose ambitions were so checked, and he profited
by the comparison. He turned, therefore, with more con-
tent than before the accident, to other matters. He began
to study Saunders, and he found the study interesting
in many ways, as well as profitable, as the reader will see
hereafter.


CHAPTER III
The fabled hydra-headed serpent, slain by Hercules,
was not more dangerous than that hydra-tongued creature,
called gossip, and society is one of its hand-maids.
Gossip, through society was still agog in discussing the
relations between Seth Stanley and Marjorie Stone. Now
that he had apparently recovered from his sickness, and
was not known to call upon her or to be seen in her com-
pany, gossip found fresh material with which to amuse
itself. Rumors of a broken engagement were numerous,
and it was attributed to various causes.
Since Stanley's convalesence Parker had renewed his
calls. But Parker, who was a great society man, failed to
extract from him any information on the matter, or to get
him out in society. He, finally, by putting this and that
together concluded that much of Stanley's illness was due
to broken relations with Miss Stone, and without asking
directly, used all the ways and means known to society to
pump him. He was unsuccessful, and compelled to give
up the job as useless.
"You need a little mental tonic,” Parker said on one
occasion. “If you will let me prescribe for you I will
have you in the old spirits in no time.”
“I have always been down on quackery, returned Stan-
ley, “and I know that your tonic is the same old patent
stuff. Lose yourself in gaiety for the moment to awake
consciousness again. You cannot dissipate depression by
dissipating the body. Many a confirmed drunkard has


187
1995m
tried this formula of yours in the glass, to find that he was
out of the frying pan into the fire.”
“Oh, your trouble is of the heart then," said Parker,
conscious that had sent out a feeler, but avoiding Stanley's
eyes for fear that he would find in them a rebuke.
"You have now changed your profession,” said Stan-
ley, shifting his position and noticing Parker's embarrass-
ment. “You play the role of a diviner as well as that of
the physician. I cannot accept you in the capacity of
either."
Parker felt relieved at even this gentle rebuke and
dropped the subject.
Fred Morgan had returned from Orchard Lake where
he had graduated with high honors. He had so thor-
oughly enjoyed his last summer's outing that he desired
to repeat it, and he looked forward to it with greater antic-
ipations than usual, because it would be the last before
entering on a business career. He had brought home
with him a school mate, Edward Burleigh, whose home
was in the East. Burleigh had suggested a trip down the
St. Lawrence and among the Thousand Islands.
“That will be just the thing to knock the malaria out
of Stanley,” said Morgan, and hence he suggested the idea
to him confidently. Stanley, however, had time to think
the matter over, and had changed his mind as to whom he
would spend the time with and where. He did not care
for the companionship of his old friends because he was
almost sure that some one of them would, during this
vacation, take the liberty of inquiring into his present
relations with Miss Stone, and he did not desire to be
bored with such questions. He had about made up his
mind to take Saunders and go out to the farm for a quiet
time in the woods and among the little lakes. His orig-


188
inal plan was to take a party with him, but as he had been
reticent about it and communicated with no one he had no
difficulty in settling upon this course. Hence he declined
to go with the others despite their pleadings. His refusal
caused them to be disappointed and none were more so
than Burleigh. He had heard so much from Morgan as
to Stanley's qualities and good fellowship that he expected
to derive a great deal of pleasure out of the trip. Stanley's
refusal did not prevent them from going ahead with their
preparations, although they felt the disappointment sorely.
They expected to start about July 8th. In the interim,
however, their efforts to induce him to accompany them
were frequent and their arguments strong, but they were
useless.
Once they waited on him in a body thinking that as
the time drew near he would change his mind. “We have
heard and we believe that in union there is strength,"
said Fox opening the conversation, “ and united we have
come to persuade you to go with us. I tell you beforehand
we shall not take no for an answer."
“If I were a candidate for office,” replied Stanley, “I
could not feel prouder to know that my friends were bound
to thrust honors upon me. I am sure though that you
will take what I feel compelled to give you with regret. I
appreciate your company, I assure you, and I appreciate
the feeling that brings you here to ask me to go with you,
but I ask the same consideration from you when I say it
is impossible.” Stanley's courteous and forcible answer
forestalled many choice bits of argument that had been
prepared for the occasion.
“I am very sorry,” said Burleigh, “for Fred has been
telling me what a jolly fellow you are. I suppose that
malaria unfits a fellow for long jaunts.”


189
Stanley was glad to lay his refusal at the door of
malaria and there it rested.
On the day of their departure he accompanied them
down to the river where they took the propeller - for
Buffalo. As he did not wish them to know that he had
been planning another trip while they had been urging
him to go with them, he decided it best to wait until
about the 15th before going to the farm, as that would be
the time for Saunder's vacation. It had always been the
custom of the Stanley establishment to give their em-
ployees each year a vacation of two weeks with pay.
He then said to Saunders: “You have earned a vaca-
tion where you will not have to play the part of a servant.
I have written Mr. Tobin, who lives on the farm, to pre-
pare the cottage for us. We can board at the farm house
and all our time will be our own. Will you go?”
“I shall only be happy to go,” said Saunders, " for as I
told you before one gets all he wants of city life in the
fifty weeks he spends closeted in an office. A little coun-
try life is an excellent thing, as it gives freedom to both
mind and body and I thank you for the privilege."
“No thanks, I am under obligations to you for your
kind treatment and excellent nursing when I was sick and
I haven't forgotten it.”
“Don't mention that, for I have been amply repaid for
all that I did."
“For your labor, that is true, but money cannot buy
such devotion as you exhibited, and because of that I am
still in your debt. We will leave day after tomorrow.
Please have the satchels ready and fill one with books and
magazine of your own choosing. I have the Century,
Forum, and North American Review for this month, and
you will find them in my room."


190
"You can depend upon everything being ready,".
replied Saunders. And he at once began to prepare for
their departure.
On the morning of July 17th Stanley and Saunders
took the early train over the Michigan Central to Ypsi-
lanti, where they connected with the Hillsdale branch of
the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern. At ten o'clock
they were at Brooklyn, a small town about sixty-five miles
from Detroit. Here they were met by Mr. Tobin, the
manager of the farm, and taken to Sand Lake, about six
miles distant, on which a part of the farm bordered.
Saunders was very much impressed with the beauty of
the scenery. It was novel to him. Before him lay the
lake, a beautiful sheet of water glistening under the rays
of the sun, about one and a half miles long and three-
quarters of a mile wide. Its sides, save on the north,
where lay a small swamp, were dotted with summer cot-
tages, surrounded by one continuous growth of woods.
The face of the country for miles around was hilly, and
hill, valley and lake, alternating with each other formed a
scene decidedly picturesque and pleasing. Prospect Hill
in the distance, which was the tallest in that section,
loomed up like a monitor overlooking the rest, while to the
southeast of it was Cedar Hill from which an excellent
view could be obtained of Wampler's Lake.
They were driven at once to the cottage, on the left bank
of the lake, which was somewhat isolated from the rest
and about a quarter of a mile from the farm house. Every-
thing had been recently cleaned and neatly arranged, so
that it presented a cozy and home-like appearance, that
called from Saunders an expression of satisfaction. Hav-
ing washed and dusted themselves they donned their flan-


191
nel shirts, swung a hammock in the shade and prepared to
rest until the large farm-house bell rang for dinner.
Meanwhile Mr. Tobin, to whom Saunders was a per-
fect stranger had gone on home to tell his wife and folk
that young Mr. Stanley had come and brought with him a.
young colored man who was very rich and decidedly good-
looking. As to Saunders' wealth he had no real informa-
tion, but he reasoned that Seth Stanley would never lower
himself to take a colored man as a companion, unless he
were rich, and the others agreed with him.
"Colored men be all right in their place,” said Mr..
Tobin, “and we allers allowed Tom to sit with us at the
table jest like one of the family, but we wouldn't have
gone a galavantin' round the country with him.”
“I've hearn tell,” spoke up his wife, "of some right.
peart colored men and they were rich too."
“He must be smart too, and I reckon he must come
from some other state. They say that some of 'em down
in Ohio have been elected to the legislatur.”
“There's Fred Douglass, I've hearn tell that he's so
smart that people like to be in his company. Is he good
looking?"
“Fair to middlin," said Mr. Tobin, “and he's not very
dark either. But he's colored, sure's I'm livin', thats what
gets me."
Before they were through speculating, John Saunders
had grown to be quite an important personage with them,
and he was eyed a great deal when he came to dinner, and
was introduced to the family. His gentlemanly appearance
was such that it seemed to confirm their conjectures.
When he had gone Mrs. Tobin said, “I knew he must
be somebody. He was all dressed up just like Mr. Stan-
ley, and his hands were softer'n Daisey's.”


192
56 'Taint Fred Douglass' son anyhow,” said Mr. Tobin
reflectively, “cos his name is Saunders, and I never hearn
tell of any Saunders afore."
“Well I reckon there's lots o people as we never
hearn tell of,” replied his wife.
The news soon spread around among the neighbors
until it reached the occupants of the cottages, that Seth
Stanley and a rich colored man from the East had taken
possession of the Stanley cottage.
“He must be somebody," they remarked to each other
on hearing it, “or the Stanleys would not take him in tow."
Mystery is a telescope to the mind. It either enlarges
or belittles according to the end one gets hold of. In this
case, John Saunders was seen through the magnifying
lens. It was well for him that opinion took this course
for it enabled him to enjoy himself hugely.


193
CHAPTER IV.
They arranged their days so as to get the most out of
them. In the morning before 5 o'clock they were up and
enjoying a row upon the lake, or taking a long walk, or
going in swimming. Sometimes after breakfast they
would fish a little, or row until the sun got so warm that
they took the shade for shelter. Sometimes when the
breezes were good and strong, they enjoyed taking the
little sail boat out, and coming down the lake with sails
set at a good spanking rate. They were not sailors enough
to make good progress back with the sail, so they rowed
back for the pleasure of the sail down again. During the
heat of the day they would loll around, talk, smoke, read,
sketch or sometimes take a drive, while in the evening
they would probably amuse themselves by another swim
or a row, or by waking the startled echoes by wild cries,
or sweet melodies, or in visiting their neighbors. Mean-
while their hands were growing hard and their skins
tanned, while their animal spirits were always high, save
when Seth was in a fitful mood, which was not often.
Stanley never enjoyed himself better, and Saunders was
having a magnificent time.
As a result of the gossip, whenever they went out for a
drive across the country or a row on the lake, they were
the center of attraction. Little children stopped in the
middle of their play to gaze at them. For a time Saun-
ders was a curiosity. He noticed it all but he was not
aware of the true cause. At the store he was accustomed


194
to being eyed by strangers who seemed to think it an odd
thing to see colored people in such a place, so he thought
now that he was noticed simply because he appeared as the
associate of a young rich white man. Rather jokingly he
suggested to Stanley that they start a side show, get a
hand organ and a monkey, place themselves on exhibition
and charge an admission fee of ten cents, thus combining
profit with pleasure.
There were two hotels at the lake. The one on the
south side had a livery attached and was often patronized
by Stanley. He enjoyed an early morning drive over the
hills, through Irish town, to Wampler's Lake or to Pros-
pect Hill, from whose eminence an excellent view of the
country unfolded itself. This section is famous for the
number of its lakes, and from this hill alone, could be seen
twelve that glistened like diamonds in green settings. In
these excursions they had visited almost all the little vil-
lages round about, going as far as Tecumseh.
One day, through Mrs. Tobin, Stanley learned of the
popular belief concerning Saunders. He was immensely
tickled over it and decided to let the belief have its course,
and if possible, keep Saunders from hearing of it. His
friendship for that individual every day was growing
stronger, and in that was sunk all reference as to color or
race. He thought only of the qualities he possessed
People had already dubbed him peculiar and cranky, and
he enjoyed the distinction.
On the Tuesday of their second week's stay a party
was given at
one of the hotels, and among
others a courteous note was sent to Stanley inviting him
and his friend to attend. He showed the invitation to
Saunders and after a little talk over it they decided to
accept, and Stanley sent a message to that effect. Accord-


195
ingly a little after nine o'clock that evening they wended
their way to the hotel. The party or ball was to be held
in the hall built for dancing purposes just back of the
hotel. Music and dancing had already commenced when
they arrived, and quite a number had already collected,
the farmers and the vacation sojourners being well mixed.
Their entrance caused a slight bustle, as all eyes were
immediately turned upon them. One of the managers of
the affair, Mr. D- , came up to them, greeted them,
and did the “ agreeable" by introducing them to all they
had not met, and in making them feel at ease. Since he
had come Stanley determined to enjoy himself. Besides
among the cottagers there were represented many fami-
lies of wealth and standing from Adrian, Toledo and round
about. Saunders had been so well received that he left
him to take care of himself, and selecting a partner was
soon engaged in a waltz. Saunders proceeded more
cautiously. He well knew that prejudice was not so ram-
pant in these country gatherings as in the city, but he
feared a slight which might mar his own and perhaps rob
Stanley of his enjoyment. However, he did not lack com-
pany, for many were anxious to get a good look at him and
hear what a man of his supposed distinction had to say,
and right well did he unconsciously play his part. When
partners were called for a quadrille Stanley took him to a
rather pretty lady named Miss Andrews, and insisted upon
his taking her out and joining in the dance which he did.
The ice once broken he had no difficulty in finding part-
ners or in being entertained. Everything went smoothly
and pleasure ran on unabated, as it only can in these
informal social gatherings in the country, until he made a
misstep in a direction of which he was unaware there was
any danger.


197
returned to shallow water by saying: “We had warm excit-
ing times in those days in helping runaway slaves on to
Canada.” Here he branched off and began to talk of the
detestation in which he held slavery, and recounted many
of his experiences in connection with the underground
railroad. When he had finished Saunders said: “You must
feel proud now to see the advances some of the race that
you helped on to freedom are making."
“I've read that some of them are gettin' on purty
well.”
“Have you ever been elected to the Legislature?”
The Squire now began his questions. . He was full of
curiosity to know who and what Saunders really was.
“No, I have not.”
“Ever been appointed to a position in the States."
“ No.”
“S’pose you are a lawyer, eh?”
“No, I thought once of studying for that profession,
but gave it up.”
“S’pose you are a merchant then, eh?”
“You have missed it again. Although I am engaged
in the business, by profession I'm a civil engineer."
“Buyin' and sellin'?”
“No, I am a bookkeeper in Mr. Stanley's store."
If someone had slipped a chunk of ice down the
Squire's back he could not have been more astonished and
staggered. Finally he managed to ask:
“ Own an interest in the business ?"
“No."
He thought again as he tugged away at the spare
growth of whiskers that adorned his chin. While he was
thus meditating Saunders' attention was called elsewhere.
Squire Andrews was dumbfounded. The idea that he,


198
mode
****
Squire Andrews, Justice of the Peace for the township of
M— County of Lenawee, of the State of Michigan, had
condescended to take an interest in a common Negro, and
had mingled socially with him. He was disgusted, and
the more he thought of it the worse he felt. He imagined
that the dignity of his person had been imposed upon.
He then lost no time in spreading the information that
the great somebody was only a common clerk or book-
keeper in Stanley's store. Every now and then he would
stand still, his countenance marked with disgust as he
took a fresh hold of his chin appendage and muttered,
“only a colored bookkeeper, bah!” Saunders was no
longer the lion of the occasion. He was still stared at by
nearly all present, but not with the look of awe which had
hitherto characterized their expressions. The wonder
that now occupied the minds of some was how Seth Stan.
ley could so disgrace his family as to make an equal of his
father's colored bookkeeper. Others, better informed of
the difficulties that surrounded a young colored man in
attaining a living, thought that he must be smart and
intelligent above the average to secure such a position.
Nevertheless he was treated civilly for they saw that
he acted like a gentleman and was excellent com-
pany. Beside those who had formally made advances
could not so quickly change front, although they might
cut him afterward.
Squire Andrews was determined to let Stanley know
that he was fully aware of the relation between him and
Saunders, and of the false position in which he had been
placed. Siding over to where Stanley stood talking with
a young lady, while still tugging and stroking his whiskers,
he waited his chance. As soon as Stanley was at leisure
he stepped up to him saying. "Quite a smart fellow, your


199
friend, Mr. Stanley; everybody thought he was a merchant
from down East.”
"So!” said Stanley, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.
"Or the son of some distinguished person.”
“He is a smart man, who is as good as he is intelli-
gent."
“Only a clerk in your father's store,” with a sneer.
“Yet he is a trusted one, and he is my friend,” said
Stanley with warmth, for he noticed the sneer in the
Squire's tone and on his countenance, and he intended to
resent any remark that might belittle his companion.
The Squire saw danger ahead and beat a retreat say-
ing, “Oh, I see!” and went away still tugging his whiskers
and muttering, "only a colored bookkeeper."
Stanley was sorry the truth was out for Saunders’ sake,
but he noticed that during the rest of the ball, very much
to his gratification, that only a few seemed to shun his
society.
On their way home that night, Stanley told Saunders
of the speculations that had been going the rounds con-
cerning him and his greatness, and they had a good hearty
laugh over it.
“I was a king then for a part of the evening, if only a
merchant king. I though that Squire Andrews' face fell
when I told him I was not a member of the legislature,
never had been appointed to an honorary position, was not
a lawyer, or a merchant, but was only a bookkeeper in.
your father's store.” He laughed heartily.
“Then you gave it away yourself.”
“I wasn't then aware of the joke. Yes, the old Squire
had been entertaining me with reminiscences."
“He was bound to let me know he had found out the
truth. Poor fellow he almost pulled his crop of whiskers
out. That face of his was a study. Ha! ha! ha!”


;
200
200
CHAPTER V.
Only three more days left of their vacation which had
been spent so pleasantly that Stanley was thinking of hav-
ing it extended. He did not care to return so soon to
Detroit because of the almost irresistible desire that he
had to see Marjorie Stone again, when his mind reverted
to her, which was frequent. His attachment to Saunders
grew each day and his admiration for his qualities of mind
and heart was increased accordingly, while Saunders, in
many quiet ways, showed the devotion he felt toward him.
Their reading and talks about different books and
topics was one of their indispensable routines of the day
and the interest they awakened in him brought Saunders
into high favor with Stanley
The afternoon of the day following the party over at
Jones' they had swung their hammocks amongst a clump of
trees to the west of the lake for a few hours' reading and
sleeping. They had not as yet touched the magazines
they had brought.
Stanley picked up the Forum and went through the
index. He noticed an article entitled the “Negro Prob-
lem” by Senator Eustis, of Louisiana. “Here is some-
thing that will interest John," he thought, as he turned to
it. Before calling his attention to it he started to read it,
but before he had gone far he thought he would read
aloud.
“Here is an article by Senator Eustis on the Negro
problem, in the Forum, John. It may interest you. Let
me road you a part of it.” .


201
“All right," said John, “fire away,” and he assumed a*
listening attitude.
Stanley proceeded and as he got into the article his
surprise at the picture presented therein of the incapacity
and shiftlessness of the Southern Negro grew as he turned
each page. Finally, in disgust, he handed the magazine
to Saunders to finish the article.
When Saunders concluded it Stanley remarked, “I
would not have believed that such a state of things existed
in the South. The colored people down there must be
different from what they are up here."
“There is but little difference except as to numbers,"
replied Saunders," and for that reason it appears the more
noticeable. There are Afro-Americans there who are as
progressive and intelligent as you will find in the world,
and there are those who, if they had the opportunity,
-would command the attention of civilization. As it is,
despite prejudice, deep-dyed and monstrous in the South,
and despite the lack of interest in the North, we have men
who have forced themselves above their fellows and
became prominent citizens.”
“Of course I would expect you to stand by your race,
right or wrong, that is pardonable, but Senator Eustis
ought to be conversant with the facts. Beside, you should
not accuse the North of apathy when they have poured
millions of dollars into the South for the education of your
people.”
“You mistake me. I give all honor to the men who
have made noble sacrifices of both time and money in the
interests of humanity and education. But of what
benefit is education without opportunity. Idle hands are
quick to commit the sins that idle minds devise. In
D etroit there are about two stores outside of yours that


202
give us employment, and Detroit is a sample of the North-
west in many respects. The men of business say they
wish us well, tell us to save our money, but had we the
capacity of an Edison in inventing, of a Stewart in plan-
ning, coupled with the integrity of a Regulus and the
devotion of a Pythias, they would not open to us the
opportunities accorded to other youths. I have myself
went to men, who pose as professed friends, to solicit work
for myself and friends, and have invariably been met with,
- Well, we don't need any one just now. If I do I will let
you know. I have never been informed when they needed
help, though I left my address and they have been dis-
charging and hiring all the time."
"You put me in mind of Monte Christo, one of Dumas'
characters, when he came home rich to revenge himself
upon his enemies. As he dispatched them he numbered
them. Your grievances suggests the reference. You are
shut out from society and from business; what will be
next?”
"I can't say, but I have not lost hope. I believe in
time other business men will follow your father's examples.
Reports from elsewhere are encouraging. As to society,
that does not bother me, we have it among ourselves, as
pure and intelligent as it can be found anywhere. But
you do not know much about the condition of things in
the South, do you?”.
"I will confess my ignorance on the subject.”
“I thought that you did not from your comments on
Senator Eustis' article. His statements are false in many
particulars and are most undoubtedly made for the pur-
pose of influencing Northern "opinion. I can tell you
something of his own state. In the City of New Orleans,
the Afro-Americans pay taxes on fifteen millions of dollars


204
statements made about us that we have to go around armed
with facts to contradict them. I have spoken of the tax
paid in the State of Lousiana on property, the race pays
throughout the South a tax on $200,000,000 in realty.
Rather a good record is it not for a race that has hardly
had twenty-five years of freedom?”.
“It certainly is not a bad showing."
“It would be more were it not for the systems extant
throughout the South, of which the reading world is famil.
iar. Systems aimed expressly at keeping Afro-American
dependent, and from acquiring property, of which the prin-
cipal ones are the false land contracts and the present store
order system. In Louisiana there is a law purported to be
aimed at vagabonds and tramps, but directed chiefly at the
Afro-American, which is operated quite extensively in
some of the parishes of that State. Under this law all
persons who live by their labor, whose services are not
.contracted for by January 1st, for the coming season, are
termed vagabonds and their services sold to the highest
bidder, for the benefit of the State."
“That is monstrous."
“Monstrous!” exclaimed Saunders with curling lip and
flashing eyes. “It is practical slavery. The wrongs of
which the Afro-Americans complain are enough to set on
fire the blood of age, and make the blood of youth leap in
torrents to avenge them. But we are like the Jews, in
that“ patience is the badge of all our tribes,” and we hope
for peaceful settlements despite the fact that the Ameri-
can world seems to be against us. Some justify these
practices, some pity us, and some condemn them, while
the majority look on with listless indifference at the crimes
against that race which produced the first martyr to Amer-
ican liberty."


-
205
Stanley watched him closely and noted the flashing
eyes, the dilated nostrils, and the firmly curved sensitive
lip that twitched nervously. He would have turned the
subject but he was interested and inquired. “Can they
not band together to protect themselves."
“Your question is one that has often been asked. So
vigilant are the violaters of the law that anything that
looks suspicious on the part of the blacks is heralded by
the whites at once as a “Negro Uprising.” Then some
dark night a leader among the people disappears. The
next day his body is found hanging to a tree. No one
knows who committed the cowardly deed. No attempt is
made to find the murderers. The law is silent, the crim-
inals are unpunished, the end sought for gained, and the
blacks are cowed by these secret assassinations. In South
Carolina recently a white man named Hoover was forced
to flee for his life for inciting, so the dispatch read, “the
Negroes to riot,” while the truth of the whole matter was
that he was engaged in establishing Knights of Labor
assemblies among them. The outrage was caused by the
fear that these assemblies would breed discontent. There
was a strike on the sugar plantations of Louisiana last
fall. Some of the strikers were Knights of Labor, and
among them were a considerable number of Afro-Ameri-
cans. Governor McEnery sent troops to that point and as
a result there was a useless and uncalled for sacrifice of
lives. · It was the usual Louisiana method of intimidating
the blacks before an election. There are cases where
some determined men have banded themselves together
for mutual protection, and conquered a peace in their
localities, but these cases are isolated. A great drawback
against the organization of any kind, whether to check
outrages, or to better their industrial condition, is this


206
fact, which was stated by an Afro-American journal of
Jacksonville, Fla., that 65 per cent of the race are incapa-
ble at the present of such action. You see it is too much
to expect a whole race to throw off at once all the influences
of two centuries of degradation and a thousand years of
superstitions. It seems to be even impossible in the North
for the masses of the whites, with their years of freedom
and opportunity, to succcessfully band together to resist
the encroachment of capital.”
Stanley laughed at this sally.
“ Another serious impediment is that any attempt at
resistance would bring down upon them the military of
the State, they would be hunted down, as is often the
case, and shot like dogs. The military is in sympathy
with public sentiment, and that is down on the race as
competitors only, not as meek laborers. The Federal
Government is powerless to protect the rights of the citi.
zens of the Republic. That power devolves upon the
State, and they who execute the laws are hostile. But
there is a brighter shade to the picture; a great educa-
tional work is going on. Schools are increasing. The
per cent. of illiteracy is decreasing, and habits of thrift
are being cultivated. These agencies must in time check
the evils complained of and win for us that respect which
is now denied.”
While Saunders was talking Stanley had been think-
ing and revolving the subject in his mind, and the resolu-
tion was half formed to go South and see for himself,
When Saunders had finished he said, “While we have
been talking I have half made up my mind to go South, as
I have never been there, and see if these things are true,
and to judge for myself.”
“ Then let me give you a word of warning. Don't let


207
them show you the bad side of our case without pointing
out to you those who are striving for success. Don't look
around among the slums that visit saloons and form a
judgment until you have visited our schools and colleges
that dot the Southland. When they show you a lazy,
shiftless and ignorant man, inquire for an intelligent pro-
gressive one. They can be found since the race repro-
sents so much wealth.”
“ You need not fear for that for you will go with me."
“I shall be glad to if you do not put off the trip until
too late in the fall. I want to be home about two or three
weeks before Christmas.”
“What's going to happen then?”
“Only a little private event of mine."
“Something that can't be told.”
“ No. Something that isn't to be told.”
“A love affair! I'll bet a nickel.”
“That is the usual charge where a mystery is involved."
“Were you ever in love, John? Tell the truth now and
shame the devil.”
"I might return your exorcism and ask you the same
question.”
“You know it, you scamp, and have ever since you
posted those letters for me last summer.”
“I did suspect it then, but my suspicions were con-
fined to my thoughts. I noticed that you commenced to
get better the day she came and all that. I compliment
you on your taste and judgment.”
Thoughts of Marjorie at once made Stanley serious.
He lay back in his hammock a moment before he spoke,
and then said with some bitterness: “Yes I have loved and
I love her with all my heart. There are many who have
sued with less ardor, whose hearts have not been stirred


208
with the deep emotions that have moved mine, who have
won without a sacrifice."
“Waiting has its own reward,” said John soothingly.
“ Each particular case has its own history, John.
There are points in mine that keep doubts hanging close
upon my hopes. Distrusted and loved. The thought of
it has placed my soul and my love in a crucible heated
with the flames of doubt, unstability and excesses. So far
I have stood the test.”
“And will continue to,” said Saunders. This sudden
burst of passion showed him the mental strain under
which Stanley labored at times, and furnished him with
the key to his melancholy.
After a few moments' silence Stanley told him of his
courtship and probation. “Now that I have unbosomed
myself to you as I have not done to one of my dearest
white friends, I want you to confide in me. There may be
a vein of fellow-experience in which I may give some con.
solation. I feel relieved since my confession, and I know
that I have your sincere sympathy."
“There is no reason why I should withhold anything
from you, since you have made such a confidant of me. I
am to be married at Christmas.”
“I envy you. What is her name?”
“Edith Darrow. We have known each other a long,
time and she possesses those qualities I like in women.
They won my love at any rate. The attachment was
reciprocated and the day is set. I have bought a lot in the
northeastern part of the city on — Street. I have plans
already drawn for our house and have let the contract. It
will be well under way when I return. The reason why I
said I desired to return from the South two or three weeks
before Christmas is to have everything arranged and ready
to receive her.”


209
“I thought so the minute you spoke. Is she pretty?”
“I think so, others might not,” answered Saunders
modestly. “Her complexion is fair and she has dark hair
and eyes. If she had been born in a white family she
would have passed for a brunette. Do you know that
there are a number of octoroons passing for white all over
this country? They have left their former homes and lost
their past identity. At once they realized a liberty
unknown before, and like the Hessian, who considered dis-
cretion the better part of valor, they have deserted from
the race in which they are classed, because they thought
it better to do so than to wage such an uneven fight as the
Afro-American must, no matter what his color. Edith is
rather slight in form, but with no inherent delicacy, for
her family are all robust and healthy."
“Is she as good and as intelligent as you are? Of
course she must be, or you wouldn't have lost your head.”'
“When I tell you that she is as refined and intelligent
as anyone you ever met and more accomplished than the
majority, you may think that my love has overdrawn the
picture."
“I must see her if I have to go with you to call upon
her."
“And I shall be happy to take you, for I know that she
will be pleased to meet one who has been so kind a friend
to me."
Their talk was interrupted by one of Mr. Tobin's boys
coming to summon them to dinner.
Frequent reference was made after this to the proposed
trip South and to Saunders' future prospects in regard to
which Stanley resolved to brighten.
Two days later they packed up and returned to Detroit.


210
CHAPTER VI.
Before we resume the thread of our story we will digress
a little to look into John Saunder's surroundings. In so
doing we dig into a field of which the average American
reader knows less about than he does of Russian life-its
incidents, pleasures and perils. This field is rich in
romance, and in the story of the lives of many are inci.
dents, perils, obstacles, despair and triumphs, success and
failures, joys, sorrows and pathos, that might command
the pens of the most gifted minds to depict in glowing
colors.
John Saunder's parents were born slaves, who, fleeing
from that “relic of barbarism," had taken refuge in the
State of Illinois, where they resided until compelled to flee
because of the odious black laws, when they came to
Michigan and settled in Detroit where John was born.
Realizing what they lacked from the need of education
they used every effort to have their children educated.
They possessed that thirst for education which has made
their race's progress one of the wonders of the age. That
progress illustrates this universal rule: If a man is
deprived of a common right or a common opportunity his
desires increase with his realization of the difference
between himself and other men. Deprivation breeds dis-
content. If the man is ambitious discontent spurs him on
to be the equal of his neighbor.
Next to the promises contained in Holy writ, educa-
tion was the hope of the Afro-American. The desire had
descended as a fixed feature in the character of succeeding


211
generations, and the burst of liberty, opening up new
opportunities that hitherto had seemed but a dream, met
with an unprecedented response by both parent and child.
During the earlier years of their children they were
sent to the “colored” school and later to the public
schools, when they were subsequently opened to receive
Afro-American children. John graduated from the
Detroit High School, went to college at Ann Arbor where
he took up civil engineering and graduated with honor.
It was during his high school days that he first met Seth
Stanley, who was attracted to him by reason of his close
application to study, and his serious and sad demeanor
which was in such striking contrast to his own easy-going
manner. After his graduation he wandered from place to
place seeking employment, but his color was against him,
and all his efforts to attain a position in keeping with his
abilities were failures. He was at last forced, much
against his wishes, to turn waiter in a hotel because of his.
limited means. This compulsion made him feel rather
bitter against the world, and he began to doubt if he was
any better off for the time, money and labor spent in get-
ting an education. He was engaged at this work when he
met Seth Stanley on the street one day, who stopped him
and inquired about his affairs. Stanley was disgusted
when John told him what he was doing, and declared that
it was shameful that a man of his ability should be com-
pelled to do such work. He promised to speak to his
father in John's behalf, and was successful enough to
obtain for him the position of assistant bookkeeper in his
father's store.
The self sacrifices of Saunders' parents to educate their
children can never be known or appreciated except by
those who have passed through similar experiences. Both


213
that last sleep. To John her admonition was to complete
his education and be what she had desired him to be. He
was then attending the High School.
There was more than a vacant chair when her form was
taken to its last resting place, for she was their advisor
and counsellor. She buoyed up their hopes when their
trials were most severe or when they were smarting under
the wounds caused by some of their schoolmates. When
even hope seemed to have ebbed away she instilled into
them new ardor and courage. This event was what caused
that sadness that had attracted Stanley. The real struggle
to carry out his mother's wishes now came to John. His
father's earnings were not more than enough to take care
of the smaller members of the family, and he had to work
out his destiny alone. During vacations he did whatever
he could find to do, waiting at tables in hotels or on steam-
boats, or doing an odd job here and there. During the
terms he attended to furnaces, cleaned sidewalks and
waited on private families for his board. It was a hard
struggle but nerve and pluck won. The one lesson to be
learned by the millions, which Saunders learned, who
yearly read of Napoleon's determined will, that carried
him and his victorious army across the Alps, is the firm
determination that brooks no obstacles. Thousands before
and since, unknown to fame, have lived and died, and a
lonely tombstone in a country churchyard is the sole
monument that they have ever lived, who have possessed
the will of a Napoleon but not the opportunity. They
have struggled at the bottom but could not rise, yet they
in their sphere have triumphed. None of us are what we
would be, but we can all be the best of what we are.
In all of Saunders' hardships there was one person who
watched his progress eagerly, and was very much inter-


214
ested in his welfare. This was Edith Darrow, who after-
wards became his betrothed. From the first she had man.
ifested a kindly interest in him, for which he was thank-
ful, and he set her interest and little kindnesses down in
his heart to her account. He was restrained then from
giving his feelings wider range because of his poverty.
In time his position became a more lucrative one, and he
became able to save a little and aid his father. His broth.
ers and sisters, all but one, became self-sustaining, and it
did not require so much from each to keep the household
intact, and to support that one. Finding that his financial
prospects would warrant it, he indulged more in society
and naturally enough, turned to Edith Darrow, for whom
he already cherished an affection. Shortly before Stan-
ley's accident, and subsequent illness, he offered himself,
was accepted and the appointed time set for Christmas.
Edith Darrow was a fino appearing woman, and most
people would have called her beautiful. Her face was
round and intellectual, her form was graceful and trim.
These charms, added to laughing dark eyes, made her a
mark at which many an aspirant had aimed his cupid
darts hitherto, but without success.
The Darrows were one of the most prominent Afro-
American families in Detroit, and each individual member
of the family was energetic and unusually successful in
whatever he undertook. Her father was a mason and
contractor and had, by dint of economy and thrift, amassed
considerable property and surrounded his family with
many luxuries. An instance in his business life is worthy
of mention, since it illustrates the feelings which exists in
the minds of many, who do not like to see any of this race
advance beyond the condition of dependent workmen.
One evening a gentlemen called at his house to have him


215
*EDIT
figure on a contract. He was asked into their parlor where
Edith sat playing a piano. The furnishing was neat, tasty,
even rich. Mr. Darrow came in, the plans were submitted,
but though he was the lowest bidder, the builder refused
him the contract because he said, “you do not need the
work; your family lives as well as mine.” Notwithstand-
ing many such rebuffs he was a fairly successful business
man.
The relation between Stanley and Saunders had become
so intimate since their vacation in the country, that Saun-
ders really wished to have him meet his betrothed, and
only wanted an excuse to make them acquainted. Stanley
had also expressed a desire to see her. He had often said
to him, “I know she must be a desirable girl or you would
not love her. I almost envy you your bright prospects."
Saunders knew that his desire was animated only by a
genuine interest for himself, but he feared that a visit
from his employer might be construed by her as a matter of
curiosity despite what he had said about him. The oppor-
tunity came in an unexpected way in the early part of
September, about a month before they had decided to
start on their Southern trip. A company of Fisk Jubilee
singers came to the city, some of whom were quite dis-
tinguished, and had sung before many of the crowned
heads of Europe. A few of them were known personally
by Edith, and as, during their engagement, they had one
evening off, she had them to a tea, and invited a few friends
to meet them. Saunders begged leave to invite Stanley,
as he had heard them sing and had expressed a wish to
meet them and compare voices; and as the reader knows
he was no mere novice. Edith assented, and Saunders
and Stanley came together. When Stanley was introduced
he made himself just as affable and entertaining as he





.
217
CHAPTER VII.
Stanley's intimacy with the “colored bookkeeper” had
been made the subject of remark. This fact in itself would
not have drawn out so much criticism had it not been for the
fact that the haunts of society knew him no more, and that
he for the time forsook his former friends for that rest and
peace of mind which he seemed to obtain in Saunders’
company. When it became known that he had attended a
reception among these people, and had mingled with them
with all his old time vivacity, gossip had a theme worthy
of its ability. Stanley's idiosyncrasies came in for a gen-
eral lashing. Some said he had developed Negrophobia,
and some that he was trying to wean himself away from
Marjorie Stone, and had chosen this peculiar way to do it.
These people reminded others of their prophecy that he
would soon tire of her, for said they, "since his recovery
he has neither visited her nor been seen in her company."
There were some who said he was “going to the dogs,"
but few were charitable enough to view his position in a
favorable light. That the bookkeeper had qualities of
manhood that could command a man's admiration sug-
gested itself to but few, or that his presence at the recep-
tion may have been for the purpose of finding out whether
the general opinion of these people was true or false, society
did not dream of. Why should it? Had not society placed
a ban upon them. Society is a kingdom. It has its kings,
princes, dukes, marquises, earls, lords, savants, and all the
paraphernalia of a court which it rigorously obeys, and


218
.
which sways it at will. This court has deemed them incap-
able of advancement in its wisdom, and unfit as associates.
Its savants are learned and have declared them but a
degree above the apes. The judgments of the court are
inflexible and society is contented, for are not these judg-
ments entrenched in deepest wisdom and learning? What
need has it for personal contact to prove their truths?
“Let them not enter into our sacred precincts lest we
breathe contamination,” is the decree to which society
holds rigidly. It departs not from its laws and customs
until, perchance, it goes to some foreign country, and there,
remarkable to relate, the further it gets away from home
the less rigid it becomes, until in the effete capitols of the
Old World it meets on equal grounds those whom it
scorned while at home, for there it is with difficulty that
it holds its own. Bow down and pay homage, oh ye
people, to the wisdom of American society—to that wis-
dom which enables it to discriminate so easily between the
customs at home and abroad, and which accepts the dicta
of the Old World as easily as it accepts the decree of its
own courts in the new.
It is not conscience alone that makes "cowards of us
all,” but opinions also. We cannot, or will not, withstand
its current whims. Conscience and conviction alike go
down before it, and one soon becomes the victim of the
popular notion. Many of Stanley's acquaintances
who knew John Saunders, knew him to be an extraordi-
nary man in many parts. They also recognized the rea-
sons for Stanley's interest and acknowledged it in private,
yet they either railed at it or maintained a discreet silence
in public.
Stanley's latest imprudence came to the Stones through
the medium of Mrs. Brooks, who had hitherto received


219
but little encouragement from them for the pains she was
taking in bringing and carrying news. She had been
treated so coolly that she felt slighted and indignant, and
although formerly she had been a constant visitor, she had
not called there for over a month. She had viewed this
escapade of Stanley's with horror and amazement. Now
she had a sensation in store, and thinking that they might
view it in her light, expected to derive some revenge.
She knew that Marjorie loved Stanley, for she had read it
in her eyes, but she had been unable to decide upon any one
of the reasons set forth by rumor as to the rightful cause
of their estrangement. Now that Stanley had been con-
sorting with “ Negroes,” she would crush her heart at one
blow and so be revenged for her own injured feelings.
In her conceit she exulted.
Having viewed this society bird of prey let us return
to the victim. Marjorie had not been carrying a light heart
all this time by any means. Her lot was made pleasanter,
however, by the memory of that visit to Stanley when he
was sick, but too often her thoughts would worry her.
She was, however, learning to view their relations more
philosophically, and each day convinced her more assuredly
that Stanley's course was honorable. She also realized
that they must remain apart if they abided by her decision
until they could meet as lovers.
When Mrs. Brooks came in both Marjorie and her
mother apprehended mischief, albeit her face was wreathed
in smiles and she manifested that same easy air that char-
terized her at all times, as she took a chair by the open
window to enjoy the cool autumnal breezes. Danger
lurks behind the smiles of some persons, who, like the ser-
pents, charm before they strike.
Detailing at first a few choice tid-bits of gossip and


220
descanting on the excellent weather they had been hav-
ing, she plunged at once into her mission by saying to
Marjorie.
“My dear, you do not look well lately. What can be
the matter with you?”
“My looks then belie my feelings,” answered Marjorie,
“for I have not been ill.”
“I am glad to hear it. But your appearance is too
listless, you should mix more in society. Have you heard
the latest sensation?”
“Probably not the particular one you have reference
to."
“Why, my dear, it is the talk of the town!”.
“Then it must be something serious,” said Mrs. Stone.
“It is, indeed. Seth Stanley has neglected his white
associates altogether and associates with colored people.
He seems to have fallen in love with that bookkeeper of
his, and the other evening he attended a reception given
in honor of the Jubilee singers that were here last week.
What do you think of that?" she asked triumphantly, lay-
ing emphasis on each word and directing a meaning look
at Marjorie.
“I don't see why that should cause such a social flurry,
I am sure," said Marjorie.
“You think it is right then for a young man to mix up
with colored people?”
"I think a man has a right to do as he pleases so long
as he acts honorably and keeps honorable company. I am
acquainted with Mr. Saunders, the bookkeeper you refer
to, and I consider him in every respect a gentleman and I
don't believe Mr. Stanley will be contaminated by his
company. You need not fear for him in that direction.”
“What is the world coming to,” exclaimed Mrs. Brooks


221
throwing up both hands in protest, “when a young lady
will stand up and defend such things?”.
She was disappointed that Marjorie did not take the
matter seriously, and her revenge was rudely robbed of all
its sweetness. Marjorie was no less than a heroine in giv-
ing expression to sentiments that she knew when uttered
would be repeated to her disparagement. She now turned
Mrs. Brooks' disappointment into consternation by saying:
"I heard that troupe sing, and had I been invited I
should have attended the reception given them myself. I
remember when I was a little girl, when prejudice against
colored people was much stronger than it is now, that the
Hon. Frederick Douglass was an honored guest at my
uncle Durham's table.”
· "That is different,” gasped Mrs. Brooks, “There is a
difference between receiving the great and consorting with
the herd.”
"The difference is only in degree,” said Marjoriė,
calmly.
Thoroughly put to rout and robbed of her revenge,
Mrs. Brooks, disgusted at the unexpected turn of the con-
versation, had but little else to say before she shook the
dust from off her feet and departed from that house.
When she had gone Marjorie turned to her mother and
said, “Mother, have I not told you that Mrs. Brooks was
an evil minded woman?”
" Don't be too hard on her, Marjorie. She usually
means well. Don't you think you were a little harsh with
her?”
“Not when I consider that what she said, she said in
order to wound my feelings."
They were silent a while, then Marjorie said: “I saw
Imogene yesterday and she told me that Seth was going


222
F
South with John Saunders this fall. I hope that they
will not meet with any mishaps."
“I am glad of it,” replied Mrs. Stone. “Seth's name
will then get a rest, but I think your apprehensions are
groundless about mishaps. Mishaps, pshaw! from
whence?” This was said by her to scout any forebodings
of Marjorie as she left the room.
Mishaps! Our Southern country is full of them.
Mishaps that have cut short the careers of many brilliant,
gifted men; that places a stain upon that part of our
country which was intended by nature to be its fairest
gem. Mishaps engendered by intolerance that causes a
ruthless disregard of life and law. That same intolerance
which is the bane of civilization, the cause of strife and
war's gloomy horrors, of persecutions and of murder, the
twin brother of barbarity, and the consort of envy and
jealousy. Intolerance that permits no opinion to clash
with its own. Well may Marjorie Stone fear mishaps, for
having read a great deal, she knew that a man of Seth
Stanley's impulsive temperament, having with him a
young man whose race was proscribed, would be apt to
meet with difficulties if he attempted to carry out North-
ern opinions.
If she only know, but how many heart aches would
have been spared, how much less of pain there would be,
how much evil averted, how much good been done, how
different would have been the policies of governments, of
nations, of individuals, if they had only known. Empires
that have moulded away and have been forgotten would
still have a place on the map of history, and the face of
the world how different. Napoleon, instead of the Iron
Duke, would have conquered at Waterloo. The South
might still have possessed its slaves, or received for them


223
a recompense. In social life many ill-fated and ill-assorted
matches would have been averted, and more real happi-
ness and peace would exist. If we only knew-it might
have been. Fit companions of speculative philosophy.
Alas for the frailities of human joys. We seldom know
all we might, because of the persistent stunting of desir-
able faculties. In a conflict between reason and passion,
reason too often goes to the wall. In the struggle between
conscience and the desire to be popular, conscience often
succumbs too easily.


224
CHAPTER VIII.
Mr. Stanley was at first opposed to his son's proposed
trip South, for several reasons. The most important was,
that it would occur during the busy season, and deprive
him of the services of both his son and John Saunders,
when most needed. His business reasons were soon over.
come when the question of his son's health was in the
balance, for he noted the fact that Seth did not yet appear
strong, and he feared that the germs of his recent illness
still lurked in his body. When he consented to let his
son go, he still thought it was folly for Saunders to leave
his work at this time, but Seth was determined that if he
went Saunders should go with him, and finally Mr. Stan.
ley reluctantly consented. In this he was influenced, too,
by the consideration of his son's health, for he reasoned
with himself, “ if Seth should be taken sick John is just
the fellow to be with him.” He had also made recent
business investments at Birmingham, Ala., which he
thought he should like to have looked into, and he made
his son promise to give them attention while in that sec-
tion.
Time sped rapidly with both the young men, and the
day for their departure, which was set for an early date in
October, was at hand, and Saunders went to bid his
betrothed good-bye. He had first broken the news of
their trip South to Edith shortly aftər the return from
Sand Lake, when the lovers were enjoying themselves row-
ing through the canals at Bell Isle Park. The announce-


225
TEM
TV.****
*
**
ment made her sad and marred the hitherto unbroken
pleasure of their evening's outing. She opposed it by
many arguments. “The uncertain state of political affairs
owing to the approaching elections, and the danger that
beset a young Afro-American of spirit unaccustomed to
the spiteful discriminations practiced in all public places."
He combated her arguments, by stating that going as he
was, with a man of wealth and standing, he would be hardly
subjected to the indignities common to Afro-American
travelers, when alone. “Besides, it will give me an excel.
lent opportunity to see the country and I also consider it
my duty to go. One of the objects of Mr. Stanley's visit
is to determine for himself questions that have arisen in
little arguments we have had. I want to see that he has a
favorable opportunity of seeing the South as I have rep-
resented it, and not as the Southerners he may meet with,
will show it to him. What is the risk I run compared
with that of obtaining a probably earnest and capable
friend of our cause?” :
“I agree with you that far, John. We need more men
among us willing to make sacrifices. I suppose many
lives must be given unselfishly to the intolerance of South-
ern thought, but I am too selfish to allow you to offer
yourself among the first. It would destroy my brightest
anticipations of the future.”
“Which cannot be brighter than mine, or looked for-
ward to with greater pleasure. I have conjured up the
prospects that our engagement brings to me, since I was a
school boy. It has been the dream of my youth, and has
nerved me in hours of severe despondency and trial. Now
that the dreams of these years are about to be realized, you
can imagine with what joy I look forward to them. You
say that there must be martyrs. You are right. Every


226
great cause has its martyrs, from whose blood there wells
up an incense, that permeating all things, strengthen its
cause and finally secures its accomplishment. In this
cause of the New Crusade for the realization of liberty,
who ever may be its martyrs, there will be found ties
broken. No one with courage and devotion enough to
give his life for his race, comes of a scion of a meaner
order of beings.”
“But suppose you should be murdered before you had
accomplished anything,” almost sobbed Edith.
“You forget,” replied Saunders, "that there is a des-
tiny that shapes our ends. We do the best we can and
leave the rest to the inexorable ordaining of things, from
which there is no appeal. Sometimes we think our road
rough and unpurposable, but on looking back, we see in
all the zig-zag way a common trend to an end, probably
the outlines of which have not yet been revealed to us.”
"You believe then that we are ever standing with what
we have been behind us and what we may be before us,
and whatever changes may transpire, this relation remains.
It may be so and yet I cannot tell why these gloomy fore-
bodings recur to me, probably they are the result of a dis-
ordered mind.”
Saunders scoffed at her fears and in time succeeded in
allaying them to the extent of seeing the smiles again
chase each other over her countenance. He was careful
not to return to the subject again. He had a pleasing
voice, not very strong, but remarkable for its taste and the
execution with which he sang. This evening as there
were but few others out rowing he sang for her a baccarol,
oft sang by Venetian gondoliers, called “Hearest Thou.”
He intended by the song to show Edith, that his dangers
and those of the boatman, were somewhat analogous, and


227
that he reposed the same trust in God that the boatman
did in the Holy Mother.
Human troubles are short when those, who have so won
the temper of our natures, as to become sweet consolers,
are nigh, and almost before we are aware of it our troubles
steal away, and the glistening tears give way to looks of
happiness and content. It was so now with Edith, for in
his presence, she lost sight of the imaginary evils she had
called up in the anticipations she pictured of his return
and the consummation of their perfect union. I
It is true in life that we enjoy ourselves more in the
anticipation than in the realization of things. Castle
building, based on some slight fruition of hopes always in
the future, gives fortitute to the spirit. Hope is the staff
of our soul, and in our hours of distress we lean heavily
upon it. The sentiment, beautiful in thought and idea, is
at variance with experience. In fact sentiments are
derived from the romances of life, yet alone they lift one
above himself and make him oblivious of his surroundings.
After parting from Saunders, and when in the solitude
of her own chamber, all Edith's fears returned, doubly
charged with apprehensions, and seemed to strike a chill
to her heart. For a while she was almost dazed, and
finally she knelt and committed herself to the same God
in whom Marjorie Stone had found consolation.
There is a strange continuity of aspiration and depend-
ence that pervades all human existence. Is it not the
result of like feelings innate and acquired ?
From that time Edith kept her doubts and fears to her.
self, telling them to none, but she could not hide the sad-
ness of her looks when anyone alluded to his going.
Saunders often noticed it and wished his trip over. When
he saw the eloquent pleadings of her eyes he hesitated at


229
TERESTING TE
S T
is nothing as sweet as love's young dream save, perhaps,
the wedded bliss derived from perfect union. Alas! that
their dreams should be so rudely broken.
It was very hard, nevertheless, for Edith at parting, for
as he kissed her good bye she could hardly restrain a sob,
and her eyes pleaded so eloquently that with choked voice
he said, “Don't look so, Edith, dear, I will not be long,"
and he hurried away lest his love and inclination over-
come him. When he had gone Edith felt as if something
had gone out of her life.
The days sped very slowly to her after his departure,
and her life was one of continued anxiety for his safety.
With it all, however, she kept up a brave front and the
sweetness of her nature still diffused itself about her.
Her disposition was naturally a cheerful one; she was
accustomed to look at the sunny side of life and to enjoy
the beautiful things of the world, the products of nature
and of man. Sorrow, grief or care, save as it came
through color prejudices directed at the Afro-American,
was almost a stranger to her, yet these prejudices, met as
they had been in school and since, had greatly aided in
developing in her the spirit of self-reliance. This faculty,
combined with the sweetness and purity of her nature
enabled her to accomplish much good in the various works
she undertook among the poorer and less educated of her
race. She was very thorough in her work, and to a
remarkable degree, succeeded in impregnating those she
came in contact with by her own virtues. Persons of
character like her have a strong influence in the world
which surrounds them. They are the conscience or mon.
itor to whom others look for approbation or dissent.
From them there seems to be an invisible stream of
strength and purity, which, infusing itself into others,


230
makes the weak strong, the surly sweet tempered, and the
vicious pure. Since her graduation from the High School
she had taught a few years in Mississippi and with much
success. To the boys, who would come sometimes smart-
ing under jibes, she would say: "Though you come from
a race that is despised, and people look upon you with
scorn and contempt, you have greater incentives to aspire
and be something than the whites who would oppress you.
The greater credit will be yours for equal heights attained,
since obstacles placed by race prejudice are against you.
You can be the true pioneers in American freedom, and
help to achieve it for every citizen for which this govern-
ment was founded, and earn the lasting gratitude of a peo-
ple. Is not such honor worthy to aspire to? Be brave,
self-reliant, hold your heads high as becomes those in
whose hands, together with others, is the future destiny of
the Republic.” Under her influence they became manly
little fellows, full of generous emulation and anxious to do
such things as would find favor with Miss Darrow.
To her girls, she was the ideal which they copied when
particularly despondent over their lessons or over some
slur or remark passed by some ruffian of the dominant
race, of which there are plenty in the South who think it
is a fine thing to rob these girls of their virtue, she would
encourage them by comforting words to persevere and to
cultivate the virtues which make a crown of womanhood.
“Every inducement lies before you. You are among the
future women of the country and its future mothers.
Your influence over husbands, lovers and sons can be irre-
sistible and far reaching. Your virtues, your refinements
and your culture will rebuke the wicked slanders circulated
by our enemies to our detriment.” Such a character as
hers could not help but be endearing to a community, and


231
in this small town of J— she was almost idolized. Such
teachers as she do more than go through the routine of
assigning and hearing lessons, regardless of the fruit born.
She did not teach for her salary alone; her whole nature
was in the work of uplifting and refining. What a change
and what a blessing it would be to the fair South if in
every city, town and village, there were teachers like her.
When it was known that she was not to return again the
expressions of regret were heartfelt and sincere.
Such a woman could not help being an ideal helpmate
and that man truly blest who could call such as her, wife.
It is no wonder that John Saunders almost idealized her,
and that he eagerly looked forward to the day when he
could claim her as his bride. She had entered into his
life and her influence, in days that were dark and full of
trouble. had sustained him and quickened his resolves.
They were well mated—well fitted to enjoy that domestic
happiness that comes from a perfect union of temperament
and souls, and now that that time was so near, pardon the
sorrow he felt upon leaving her for even so short a time.


233
72
has tilled its fields, climbed its hills, roamed through its
forests, and crossed its brooks and rivers. A great vast
country, beautiful to look upon eveh in its natural aspects,
that has yielded abundant harvest to its labor, cannot fail
to have in its associations many tender recollections. It
is not the Southland that we loathe but the intolerance of
a dominant spirit. The bitterness we have would not
exist if with every breath we draw in, if with every step
we take, wo could feel as free as we do in the North. The
sweat of our ancestors fed and clothed those who now
claim the honor of having made these states. They
planned, our race carried out and executed. Here my
father spent his best days toiling for another without
recompense, and from here he was sold into Alabama. All
his family ties and associations were severed with as little
consideration as if he were a brute. The labor that should
have brought him store against age and need, was not his
to command, and here, I cannot even now travel and be
treated as a man in public places."
“You are borrowing needless trouble, John. Don't get
into a despondent humor before the occasion requires.
Surely time has softened many of the evils of which you
complain. But look we can begin to see signs of the South
already.”
Stanley said this to divert Saunders' mind with more
pleasing thoughts. In his heart, he felt truly sorry, and
sympathized with him deeply. The signs of the South
were, however, visible. The mule and the cabin, and the
increasing luxuriance of vegetation proved the truth of
his words. They were far across the Ohio and speeding
rapidly towards Tennessee. They took great interest in
the changing scenes that now became apparent in plan-
tation and cabin life. It was like travelling in a new


235
idea of the manner in which the cotton was picked, seeded
and baled for the market.
“Mississippi is the greatest cotton producing State in
the South,” replied Saunders, in answer to a question from
Stanley.
"I notice quite a number of white people in the fields.
I had an idea that by far the greater part of the work was
performed by the colored people.”
“So it is,” replied Saunders. “In this State they raise
one hundred per cent. more of the cotton than white labor,
and such value is set on their services that the planters
have succeeded in inducing immigrants to come from
North Carolina and other Southeastern States by the
thousands. *Since 1880 white labor is becoming more
extensively used, particularly so is this claimed with refer-
ence to the State of Texas which is also a great cotton pro-
ducing State. In 1880 fifty-six per cent. of the total crop,
according to Southern statistics, was produced by colored
labor. In all of the States, except Texas and Arkansas,
colored labor produced the most cotton. There are no
authoritative statistics on this subject issued.” Saunders
took out his wallet, and out of it took a clipping from a
newspaper, an article from the Times-Democrat of Sep-
tember 1st, 1886, “which gives the percentage of pro-
duction of 1885 as 50.1 per cent. raised by white labor,
and 49.9 per cent. by colored labor, a percentage of two-
*During the National Editoral convention that met in Detroit in the summer of
1889, the Author had occasion to converse with several representatives from the
Yazoo District on this subject. These men, while they believe in keeping the Afro-
American subjected politically, confessed that they were glad that slavery was
destroyed; and that the labor of these people was very valuable. Mention being
made of immigration, they said that 40,000 Afro-Americans had recently come to
that district (the Yazoo), and that despite what was said of the desirability of get-
ting rid of that class, it was indispensable to the South.
The immigration of such large numbers from the Southeastern States, has also
led to the introduction and passage of immigration laws in the States of Georgia
and Sonth Carolina. These laws were the outgrowth of public sentiment in these
states, which was aroused by the departure of their laboring element. The senti-
ment against the agents became so intense that they were compelled to leave the
States, and were not allowed to stand upon the order of their going.


236
TOT
'tenths of one per cent. in favor of the whites.” The same
article reads as follows: "A half dozen Congressional
committees have investigated the labor question in this
country, and the newspapers also have made it a question
of special inquiry. The great burden of these inquiries
has been whether the freed Negro is as valuable a pro-
ducer as the slave. The majority of those giving testi-
mony, best able to speak on this subject in the last report
of the Senate was, that the slave produced more cotton,
sugar and corn than the freed man. At the same time
it was universally acknowledged that Negro labor has
improved, especially during the last ten years, is more
reliable, and certainly less disposed to wander from plan-
tation to plantation, more earnest, intelligent and capable."
“Now there is much that is true in this. The Afro
American is certainly improving as a laborer, and is pro-
ducing more now than he ever did as a slave. The source
from which I have read is prejudiced, it is against the evi-
dence of the people in this State and also Arkansas,in encour-
aging such labor to come from other States, as well as against
the testimony borne by prominent Southerners* who aver
that the Afro-American is the chief dependence for the
labor of the South. The same article goes on to state
that “the average productive value of white labor through-
out the South is thirty per cent. greater than colored labor."
It claims that this is due to the “ agricultural colleges,
farmers clubs and other associations, not to mention the
immigration of a large number of small farmers from the
West,” and “ that this advantage of white labor over col-
*We give to the World this year a crop of 7,500,000 bales of cotton worth $450,-
000,000, and its cash equivalent in grain, grasses and fruit. This enormous crop
could not have come from the hands of sullen, discontented labor. I present the
tax-books of Georgia which show that the negro in Georgia has about $10,000,000
of assessed property worth twice as much. Can it be seriously mentioned that we
are terrorizing the people from whose hands come every year $1,000,000,000 of farm
products.--Henry Grady, December, 1889.


237
ored labor is man for man in the hottest portions of the
South.” It also claims that “the white agricultural labor
in the South is increasing rapidly, due to immigration
from Northern States."
“I have heard the claims made before as well as the
one that the colored people produced more and were more
reliable as slaves than as freemen,” said Stanley.
“The productive capacity may be easily disposed of.
Then they were driven to it by the brutal lash of the over-
seer. But in regard to what I was reading. I think the
argument all nonsense. I do not believe that enough
Northern labor has come South to make such a great dif.
ference.† This paper is an enthusiastic advocate of immi.
gration and makes much of little, presumably with the
intention of inducing immigration, and hence to depreciate
colored labor. If the statistics are thorough in 1890 we
may get some idea of the real facts.* There are more
ways than by outrage to do us an injustice.”
"You do not think then that the colored people are
lazy, shiftless, and carelessly bent on living an easy life."
“Not the intelligent at any rate; with the ignorant it
would be natural enough if it were so for good reasons.
As a slave he was forced by overseers, and the dread of the
lash formed a great incentive to labor. They were simply
machines over which were appointed men whose sole busi-
ness it was to produce the greatest amount of labor at a
minimum of cost, and the cost consisted of a few scant
articles of clothing and cheap food. Many plantations
only allowed as a week's rations to a man a peck of corn
+Recent statistics show that the percentage of white Northern emigrants are
decreasing, and that throughout the whole South during the last decade there were
only 150,000, and only 200,000 foreign emigrants.
*In 1888 more cotton was produced by 1,000,000 bales than ever before in the
Sonth, largely due to the increased intelligence of the negro.-Col. J. M. Keating
of Memphis Appeal.


238
and two pounds of fat pork. If he were unmarried he had
to prepare, it himself. Such .coarse and scanty finding
encouraged peculations from the master's pantry and hen
roost. Slavery' moved there was a reaction.
From forced labor to labor as one pleased, was a great
novelty, and a privilege deemed sacred. As freemen there
was that natural antipathy against labor that is forced
among the majority which is common to all people.
There was also that natural desire, noticeable among peo-
ple who have been in like situations, to work when and
where they please; in other words, to be independent and
have a good time. It cannot be denied, too, that the cli-
mate greatly aids laziness and shiftlessness. You have
travelled extensively and most undoubtedly noticed in
Europe that in the Latin countries there is not that same
thrift and energy in the pursuits of labor that you find
among the Germans, French, English, Scandinavians and
Swiss. The climate is not rigorous enough to require the
same effort to keep the body as warmly clothed and to
support life as in Northern latitudes, their wants being
fewer, not as much energy is required to obtain them.
The natural result is a multitude of proud, lazy, ignorant
and indigent people who live chiefly through beggary. I
do not wish to infer from this that I think that the Afro-
Americans of the South will occupy a like position always,
although the climate is in many respects similar, but
merely use it to show the effect of a climate upon races
which have produced the most celebrated masters in art,
philosophy, science, statesmanship, war and music. But
look to your right—there is another specimen of this coun-
try. There is a sample of the poor white. Did you ever
see a person whose face expressed such a lack of ambition,
and who looked more lazy and shiftless? He is despised


239
by the better classes of the whites and by the blacks. He
is the ready scape goat and tool; the medium through
which designing men commit outrages against life and
property, that has brought such disgrace upon Mississippi.
He is the more willing tool because of his pride. He was
considered but a degree above the slave and scarcely toler-
ated in other days. The slave now free and advancing,
and he finding himself descending by reason of his sloth,
is moved by jealousy, envy, hatred and prejudice.”
Stanley looked in the direction indicated and barely
had time while the train rushed along to catch a glimpse
of a thatched cabin before which stood a lank, lean speci.
men of the Southern poor white, clad in patched and faded
jeans and upon whose head was a tattered and torn straw
hat. His face bore the stamp of the characteristics of his
class laziness, sloth and pride, but as regards the nobler
qualities, it was expressionless. In front of the house
stood a bench on which lay a wash basin, near by on the
ground lay a hoe and rake, which when employed at all,
were probably used to cultivate the small patch of ground
in front of the cabin, which looked to be in want of care.
“The meanest and lowest of them all have in them a
pride,” continued Saunders, “which makes them think
they are the superiors of the best among the Afro-Ameri-
cans. They are the natural result of the climate and the
system of the old South, and their tribe will increase until
that intolerance which exists here against men, white or
colored, who are not in accord with the reigning political
opinions, ceases. Men who love liberty of thought and
expression, cannot be induced to leave sections where such
rights exist, for climes even more favorable, where such
privileges are in danger.”
The numbers of poor whites and shiftless blacks around


240
the station, to whom the coming and going of trains was
always of interest, was a source of amusement. The near
approach of the Presidential election assisted in bringing
out more than usual every type of the country, from the
wealthy, polite and imperious planter to the poorest black
and white. Most of them intent on saving the country
from a return to Republican rule, and predicting dire dis-
aster should such a calamity occur. The Afro-American
had learned, however, from experience to keep out of such
discussions.
“A little while ago,” said Stanley," you spoke of other
reasons, besides the natural one you gave, why the colored
people did not produce more, and from what I should
infer, did not possess more wealth."
“There are several reasons. After emancipation and
enfranchisement many were bent on acquiring land. Large
numbers bought lands and homes on contract. That was
during the Reconstruction. During the days of the K. K.
K. many were killed, many were driven from home, and a
large number of others discovered that many of their con-
tracts were false, and had their property taken away from
them with no means of redress. This of course had an
evil effect, for it discouraged many. There are also a
large number of small planters, who, because of the sever-
ity of the system of doing business, are unable to make
headway, and when the crop is in and sold are probably
deeper in debt than when the season opened." .
“ What do you refer to now?”
“ The share system, but it affects the white also. The
planters are generally poor. To go through a season he
raises money on a prospective crop for which he is charged
ten per cent interest. He also has to pay a further charge
cf ten per cent. for all provisions advanced, which are


241
11:03
charged up against him at a large profit, and at the end of
the season when his debts are paid he is no better off than
when he begun. Then there is the crop lien system by
which he is to mortgage his crop as security for his rent,
purchase his provisions at the company's store and comes
out no better than he does by the other plan. There are
other systems, equally as bad, whose sole purport is to
defraud the small planter. This same article from which
I read before' says: "The credit system was universal in
the South about six years ago. * * * In 1879-80 it
was estimated that nearlỳ three-fifths of the entire crop
was raised on credit. Among the Afro-Americans in the
back counties the system is still extensively carried on,
and of course such a state of things is hardly calculated to
make men thrifty and industrious."
“Quite the reverse I should think. But I have always
heard that the South had many rich colored men, conse-
quently there must be many exceptions to the general
rulo."
“There are. Now there are two brothers in this State
who were the property of Jeff Davis who have bought the
old plantation and are quite wealthy. Others have with-
stood the tide of persecution that swept over this State in
'76 and are well off. I have seen the advance sheets of a
book which states that there are twenty-seven whose com-
bined wealth is more than a $1,000,000. The influence of
education upon the young, and the inculcation of sound
moral principles is improving the status of the Afro-
American rapidly. The next decade will witness marvelous
strides in educational and material advancements. But
here we are at Tougaloo. That row of buildings over
there looks as if it might be a university."
Inquiry from the conductor confirmed his surmise.


242
“The Tougaloo University is one of three for which
this state appropriates $3,000 per year for the use of Afro-
Americans. It has an average attendance of about one
hundred and fifty. In addition to the regular course of
study there is manual training. Most of the buildings
about the university were built by the students. Such
schools are increasing rapidly, for that system which cul-
tivates the use of the hand as well as the head, is growing
in favor all over the country. They are a necessity, and
particularly so with the freedman, who has not the same
facilities for learning trades accorded the whites."
“The colored people here are eager to get education,
are they not?”*
“Very, but Mississippi and other Southern states are
too poor to furnish the adequate sums to make their school
systems the equal of the North, and the matter is rendered
worse by keeping separate schools.” Saunders again had
recourse to his wallet for statistics. “Now by, the census
of 1880, the number of school days in Mississippi in the
country districts was seventy-four and one-half days; in
the cities 177 days. In the report of the U. S. Commis-
sion for 1884 and 1885 the average for all parts of the state
is given at 78.05 days. The average annual pay for teach-
ers in 1880 was a little less than $120.00 a year. This
shows the necessity of National aid, does it not, to aid the
state to rid itself of its vast ignorance? The increase in
the number of scholars in '81 over '80 was 7,000 whites to
13,000 colored.* The average pay of teachers throughout
*Since 1861 the Negro has decreased his illiteracy 50 per cent. Col. J. M. Keat-
ing.-Memphis Appeal.
+ The Times-Democrat, Sept. 1, 1889, gives the total scholastic population of
the South as 5,966,142, of whom 2,057,990 are colored and 3,908,152 are white, with a
total enrollment of 3,220,955 of whom 985,022 are colored. The different Commis-
sioners of Education in the states all concur in saying that the Afro-American
ratio in attendance is on the increase and that the per cent of ignorance is
decreasing.


243
the South in 1880 was $111.82 per year and the average
number of school days 87.79, ranging from 62 in North
Carolina to 118.4 in Virginia.* I have seen no reliable
statistics since. There is a great lump of ignorance in the
South to leaven. The colored children while fairly well
provided for are not nearly as well so as the whites. The
first colored school was started at Hilton's Head in 1861,
now there are thousands of schools well filled, but the
supply is inadequate and the work is marred by such talk
as that the whites are taxed and the 'Negroes' get the
benefit. Such people seem to forget: First, that the Afro-
American is largely responsible for the prosperity of the
South, that is, his labor helped greatly to create it.
Second, that for years he received no returns for his labor.
Third, that the man who labors and pays rent, indirectly
at least, pays the tax, his share of it anyway, although he
may not directly do so. Taking these things into consid-
eration the Afro-American does not get his full quota, nor
are his school houses as good, or his teachers as competent;
yet his progress has been so rapid † as to put the whites
*The same authority quoted above gives the average days of school in the
South as 98.25 and the average pay of teachers as $29.80 per month in 1889.
*The Times-Democrat, September 1, 1889, gives the exclusive colored schools as
follows:
Public Schools
Normal Schools
College Arts and Science
922
Schools of Theology
SOHOOLS. TEACHERS. PUPILS
19,550 20,000 985,022
1,771
247
6.655
16
119
Secondary Instruction
31
79
Science
Law
Medicine
Deaf and Dumb
Blind
Feeble Minded
Reform Farms
933
840
1,991
165
255
91
136
1,699
Totals
19,634 20,615 1,000,580
Increase since 1882, 34 per cent.
Contributions of Southern States by taxation since the war
$37,377,673
Contributions from Societies and Missions
15,767, 746
Total
$53,145,419
The authority quoted above, Sept. 1, 1890, says: There are now in the South
15,254 colored schools with 17,160 teachers and 1,986,492 pupils enrolled, and 84 col-
leges or high schools with 509 teachers and 15,412 pupils.
Contributions of Southern States by taxation
taxation. -
- $39,746,850
Contributions from Societies, Missions and other sources
16,434,520
Total
$56,181,370
If the solution of the Southern problem is in the education of the Negro, it is
rapidly being reached.


244
in many places on their mettle. Kentucky has more illit-
erate whites than blacks. Prominent Southern journals
have said that the pay and accommodations are equal, but
I do not believe that a single Afro-American teacher, who
is well informed and is unhampered, will substantiate it.*
The door of the car was opened and through it came
to their ears: “By Gahd, sah! The South won't tolerate
nigger rule, sah! It will fight.” The door was closed
again and the rest of the conversation was cut off.
“Of all reasons,” continued Saunders, "used by the
South to keep the Afro-American intimidated, that pre-
tended fear that the South will pass under the control of
the Afro-American, seems most senile. There are about
nineteen million people in this section, and only about
seven million five hundred thousand are colored. Only in
three States-Louisiana, Mississippi and South Carolina-
are they in the majority, and in the party they are princi.
pally connected with, white men are always appointed to
lead and hold the most responsible positions. There can
be no excuses for the outrages in Arkansas, Texas, Georgia
and Alabama on that score. It is all pure meanness.
Revenge, perhaps, taken upon the blacks for their failure
in the lost cause. Revenge taken upon them for the part
played by the Republican party in those stirring times,
and for their work in elevating him. It is not fear, it is
solely revenge. They know as well as anyone that kind-
ness and justice would divide the Afro-American vote, and
that is all that the Afro-American wants. Given justice,
we are willing to abide by the doctrine of the survival of
the fittest.”
*In the State of Georgia a Negro school teacher is paid about $30 per month
while white teachers get from $75 to $150, and the whites get about $200,000 for
higher education, and the Negro gets nothing, yet it is said we get half the money
for educational purposes.-Atlanta, Ga. News, December, 1889.
While the Southern States for year ending June 1, 1890, raised $14,767,397 for
school purposes, only $2,369,397 was given toward colored schools, and yet they
represent over one-third of the whole population.-Author.


246
CHAPTER X.
At last they arrived in New Orleans, that New Orleans
that Cable has made us acquainted with in his “Dr.
Sevier,” and “ Tales of Acadian Life.” They were famil-
iar with these tales of New Orleans life, and on their ride
to the — Hotel the streets seemed familiar upon recal-
ling the scenes that had been enacted there.
Arriving at the hotel Stanley registered for both and
had ordered breakfast before Saunders, who had been
giving instructions concerning their baggage, knew it.
Saunders came in as Stanley was ready to be assigned to
his room and spoke to him. The hotel clerk, noticing him
then for the first time, asked of Stanley: “Do you wish a
place provided for your servant?”
“What do you suppose I wanted ?” asked Stanley,
somewhat impatiently. “I want a room for both of us.
The same room will do. He is not a servant, but a friend."
"It is evident from your language that you are from
the North,” replied the clerk, “but we don't allow Negroes
in this house except as servants.”
“Am I to infer then that I cannot procure accommo-
dations in this hotel for my friend?” asked Stanley, with
flashing eyes. What Saunders had told him of southern
prejudices then suddenly came to his mind.
“I mean just what I say. It is against the rule of the
house to entertain Negroes as guests,” answered the clerk
calmly and politely. “We are sorry to inconvenience you
but we can give him quarters with the servants.”


247
manner.
The utter indifference of the man to the feelings of his
friend made Stanley angry and he rather hotly said:
* You can keep all your rooms. I think your rules are an
outrage and a reflection upon the reputed civility and
courtesy of the South to treat strangers in this manner.
He is as good as you any day.”
The clerk now began to get angry.
“Don't carry your insults too far, sir, or you may be
sorry for it. Besides, you won't make any friends down
hear by trying to put niggers on an equality with white
people.”
“I don't have to put him on an equality with you,”
retorted Stanley. “He is more of a man than you in any
particular, and a gentleman at that."
“You are one of those Northern fools that it would be
a sin for a gentleman to quarrel with. But still I tell
you,” and the clerk, to emphasize his words, brought his
fist down energetically, “that you are defying our preju-
dices against the ‘niggers,' and you'll get your fill of it if
you keep it up, before you get back home.”
Quite a number of spectators had been drawn to the
spot by the heated conversation, some of whom looked as
if they would liked to have had a word in it.
Stanley made no reply to the clerk's last remark, but
turned upon his heel followed by Saunders, who expected
this much and left the place. Saunders thought that a
little experience on Stanley's part with Southern intoler-
ance and prejudice would be more convincing, and carry
with it more weight than any argument he might offer,
and on this account did not object to accompanying Stan-
ley to the hotel. He re-secured the trunk checks from
the porter and rejoined Stanley, who was somewhat agi-
tated, on the street.


249
We will not be here very long and it isn't worth the fuss
to insist against their customs."
Re-entering a carriage they were driven to the Hotel
R-- Saunders gave up the checks to Stanley and
immediately set out in search of a colored boarding place.
On Canal street he met an intelligent looking man of his
race whom he took for a letter carrier, and on making
known his wants was directed to such a place. He was
compelled to go quite a distance to reach it, but when
he did he found pleasant rooms in a private family
on —- street. In the privacy of his room he began to
think of home and Edith, of the misgivings she had of
making such a trip on the eve of a National election and
he resolved not to take any stand that would make him
figure conspicuously against Southern customs, on the
contrary he would accept things as he found them.
Stanley did not, however, resolve to accept the customs
so easily. On being assigned to his room in the Hotel
R--, he went at once to it, and taking off his coat, for
the weather was quite warm, he sank into a chair and
began to survey the situation. He felt keenly the insult
offered to him and his friend at the -- Hotel, and the
more he thought of it the keener the pang; his temper
rose and the more determined he became to find out if
there was no redress. The more we nurse our wrongs,
fancied or real, the larger proportions they assume. It
was so with Stanley. He grew so excited thinking over it
that he arose from his chair and paced the floor to and fro.
“What business is it of theirs,” he said aloud, “If I
want a colored man for a companion or as an associate.
If I am willing to share my room and privileges with him,
what business or by what right does a public inn dictate
to me whom I shall or shall not have as a companion, and


...: 250
presume to insult me for doing as I like. If there is any
justice to be had at law I will have it.”
From what Stanley knew of the South through news-
papers and information derived from Saunders he might
have expected the discrimination. He probably knew that
if Saunders had been traveling alone he could not have
secured accommodations at a hotel. But the idea that
Saunders traveling with him not as a companion, but as a
friend, one who had nursed him in sickness, widened the
horizon of his understanding concerning men and their
relations to each other, and had helped him to bear up
under a great disappointment—made him forget every-
thing except the insult to Saunders and through Saunders
to himself. His idea of the power of wealth to buy what
was purchasable received a check, and the check served
only as a means to let loose his pent-up feelings.
Recollecting that he had letters of credit to the —
National Bank on Canal street he resolved to go there at
once, and after transacting his business he intended to lay
his complaint before its officers for advisement. On his
way over he met Saunders who had just come from his
boarding place. Stanley told him where he was going,
and left him to his own resources until he returned.
Saunders started out for a stroll and the magnificent
Custom House that the Government had been so many
years in completing caught his eye. As he looked at the
immense structure of marble and its great dome he
thought of “the hole in the ground” at home, and won-
dered if it would take as long to complete that still unde-
signed building as it did this. The Hotel where he
had been refused was near to the Custom House and vied
with it in beauty and finish.
The sun was now getting very warm so he hired a cab


251
to show him around through the business part of the city
and down by the wharves, as he had a great curiosity to
see the loading and unloading of cotton, the great ware-
houses, levees, and the large number of steamers always to
be found there.
The principal streets of New Orleans, St. Charles and
Canal, are broad thoroughfares two hundred feet wide in
the center of which there is a kind of continuous park
about twenty feet wide, lined on each side with beautiful
shade trees and ornamented by a profusion of rich flowers,
the like of which is not to be seen in the parks of our
Northern cities. Saunders confessed to himself that New
Orleans was a rather handsome city, but not to be com-
pared to Detroit. He was conscious, however, that his
sphere was circumscribed, and this oppression of his mind
weighed upon the attempted exhiliration of the body.
There is no beauty without liberty—that conscious posses-
sion of the soul that sees the boundless possibilities of
man in all things, though he may never realize his expec-
tations. Nature in her brightest hues is somber to the
mind oppressed. The dread possibility of insults and cur.
tailments of the rights of manhood forced themselves upon
him, and it required considerable effort to throw off the
depression that his reverie had brought upon him.
He found his driver to be quite garrulous and he plied
him with many questions. He was an Afro-American,
not over intelligent, but possessed of a considerable
amount of mother wit. He had the dialect peculiar to his
class, and was possessed of quite an extensive fund of
information.
Going down Bienville street to the wharves and around
the warehouses, Saunders noted large numbers of Afro-
Americans lying around idle, and as it was then in the
darge number of Alice


252
middle of the cotton season and knowing too that they
were the chief labor around the wharves, he thought it.
rather strange, and he asked the driver why they didn't go.
to work.
“Well, I tell you, boss, how dat is. Sum of 'em don't
want ter work, en sum cant get it. Dar’s to many poh
foks heah. When de regilators gits on de rampage dey
runs a lot of des fellers out ob de parishes and dey cum
into de city fer purteckshun. When dey get heah mos' of
um stays.”
“ You say that some of them are lazy?”
“Yes sah! powful shiftless, sum of dem is, and den agin
dey wuks on de plantashuns all de yar and dey ginrally
owes mo when de yar are up den dey did when dey com-
menced, so dey jists make up der min' dat dey aint gwine
ter wuk at all.”
“There are large numbers who have accumulated con--
siderable property are there not?”.
“Golly, boss, yes we has. I kin name hundreds of men
nigh heah on my fingers."
Saunders gained quite a bit of information from him if
he didn't possess much “book larnin” and he rather
reluctantly cut his drive short in order to meet Stanley as
he returned from the bank. While doing so he busily
plied the driver with questions relative to the mode of car-
rying elections, of the manner in which the people were
bulldozed in the country parishes, of the trouble in
Thiboudaux parish last fall, where the Governor of the
State sent the militia and the subsequent useless waste of
life. He also questioned him relative to the manner of
life led by the Afro-Americans in the city and country and
their educational facilities, which information he intended
to embody in letters to Edith and to his favorite journal,


253
i
The Plaindealer. He arrived at the hotel just in time to
meet Stanley on his return, in a mood apparently as bitter
as when he set out for the bank, which led Saunders to
infer that he had failed in getting satisfaction.


254
CHAPTER XI.
Upon leaving the hotel, Stanley went directly to the
bank, and presented his letters to Mr. George Arnold, the
cashier, who received him very cordially, and expressed
the hope that he intended to locate in the South. He
assured him that Northern capital was always welcomed
by the rising institutions in that section, and that large
dividends attended its ventures. Stanley explained that
he was only on a visit to this particular section of the
South and had been led to make it through curiosity, but
that his father had interests in Birmingham, Ala., which
he expected to look after. He thanked him for his cordial
welcome, and then he told him of his experience at the
hotel that morning.
Mr. Arnold listened attentively until he had finished,
then he said: “I am sorry that your first visit to the
South should be thus marred by a disagreeable incident,
but if you are at all acquainted with our customs, I cannot
commend your desire to force Negro equality. We of the
South, are unalterably opposed to it, and would stand by
our convictions, if by so doing we had to shed our life's
blood, as we did once before to support our opinions. This
question is a prevalent issue with us that we must meet,
with you, it is a sentimental theory.
Stanley was inclined to get angry, but Mr. Arnold was
so gentle and courteous in his manner, and spoke so dis-
passionately, that he refrained from showing any signs of


255
irritation and asked: “Do you call a demand for the ordi-
nary civilities of life forcing equality.”
“That depends on the circumstance. The Negroes are
an inferior race, and the very first idea of the fitness of
things demands that he should live apart from a superior
race. We, of the South are the best friends they have, and
if the North would leave us alone, we would work out his
destiny all right.”
"Mr. Arnold, our views are diametrically opposed to
each other, and it is probably useless for you and me to
discuss the question. Your position to me, seems like
this: You wish the North to give up its interests in
humanity because it interferes with your plans to work
out the destiny of eight millions of people without regard
to their wishes, and in a manner contrary to the principles
that uphold the Republic.”
Mr. Arnold was as polished in argument and evasion as
the most skillful lawyer. He employed all their casuistry,
and did not allow a ruffle of discontent to pass over his
countenance, or work a change in his manner. He was as
suave as Disraeli's Cardinal Grandison, and did not allow
even a change in the inflection in his voice. He replied,
smilingly:
“Not at all, Mr. Stanley. We only want the Negro to
know and keep his place until he becomes civilized as we
are, and in the meantime we will furnish him with schools,
and the means to educate himself. We are taxing our-
selves every day for his benefit.”
“If you are doing all that you claim, what need is there
for the large number of educational institutions all over
the country established by Northern philanthropy such as
Fiske, Tuskegee, Atlanta, and many others. If the South
is poor, why burden itself with two systems of schools


258
away with colored men. Perhaps it may be due to that
inexplicable influence you claim my colored friend has
over me, or it may be the case of the willful girl and the
coachman as is the case North, though rare. None of our
families are invaded in the North by any objectionable
people, be they black or white. In many public places in
receptions given by societies in which there are colored
members I have met Saunders and others. They have
always deported themselves well, and those who knew them
treated them well as far as I have ever noticed.”
"But we can't do that down here Mr. Stanley. We
have too many of them, we wouldn't think of it either.
We believe them inferior and treat them accordingly."
“ If you are the superior and the stronger race then
your duty to the weaker is to be inflexibly just. * And
you are not that. It is nonsense to my mind to say you
cannot distinguish between the educated and the ignorant
among the colored people the same as you do among the
white. To say that you wouldn't think of it is nearer the
truth and forms the key to the situation. You of the
South accuse us of being a slave to an abstract sentiment
while you are slaves to a prejudice that keeps the country
in dread of a future awakening of terror and which some-
times startle us with the news of some horrible massacre."
Stanley arose to go; as he reached the door Mr. Arnold
called after him: “ Do you expect to remain long in the
South ?"
“Not in this city,” replied Stanley, sharply.
“You will find before you get home how useless it is to
* If we assert our rights to guide the destinies of a Nation claiming that we are
the stronger race, then we must be inflexibly just to the weaker. The new South
must be a South of law and order, a South in which full and equal justice shall be
done only through the machinery of the tribunals of the law. On this basis alone
can be raised the edifice of enduring prosperity and power.-Weekly Times-Demo-
crat, Dec. 27th, 1889.


260
the South, of his sickness, Saunders' devotion to him, his
position at the store and of his superior intelligence.
“Now then, you know I did not come to seek social recog-
nition, and I will not be disappointed if no one notices me.
With all Saunders has done for me, if he isn't quite as
white as I am, I couldn't look him in the face again
if I treated him less than as a man. He is hore by
my invitation and we can keep our own company. I have
been in the same position before and have been well enter-
tained.”
“We have servants who have done as much for us,
would lay down their lives for us, and we care for them,
would do all in our power for them, but we teach them to
keep their place at the same time, or they would soon get
'sassy' and commence to talk about their rights, I suppose,
about the way your friend does. I advise you to take the
same course and you will find, my dear fellow, that exper.
ience and years will cure you of all sentimentality.”
“Not if I know it,” replied Stanley, as he bade him
adieu and started for his hotel.
On his way there he thought over his experience and
tried to forecast what he might expect. Meeting Saun-
ders at the door of the hotel they both entered. He
secured some writing paper in the lobby and then they
went up to his room by the stairway.
He told Saunders of his conversation with the banker
and said that he meant to leave New Orleans as soon as he
had taken a run down to the gulf. Saunders protested
and said that he did not wish to prove a burden. He even
offered to return home at once and leave him unhampered,
but Stanley would not consent to it and said: “If I can
afford to stick to you, you can afford to stay with me," and
they sealed this decision by grasping each other's hands.


261
Saunders then left the hotel to go to dinner and Stan.
ley proceeded to write to his father in detail about his
experiences. He would have liked to have written to
Marjorie, and had he done so his mind perhaps would
have been relieved in transcribing his thoughts to one so
dear to him. If he could have only known how gladly
she would have welcomed them. He wrote a cheery letter
to Imogene, omitting the disagreeable incidents. As he
wrote he recollected a promise he had made her. “I prom.
ised to take her with me the next time I went away. It
is perhaps as well that I did not."


262
CHAPTER XII.
Despite the conclusions arrived at between the two
concerning the length of their stay in New Orleans, they
remained there several days. The life it presented, the
peculiar types of character it displayed, were to them
sources of study, thought and amusement. Its various
parks, and places of interest and pleasure had to be visited
--some of which were of peculiar interest to Saunders
because they were connected with the educational interests
of the Afro-American, such as the St. Charles and Straight
Universities. In the common schools he found discrimi.
nation he did not expect in such a large city. Some years
ago a wealthy man named MacDonogh died and left a
large sum of money for educational purposes. His will
provided that the benefactions should be equally shared
by the colored and the white people. With the money
left for the purpose twenty-six school buildings had been
built, and of that number the colored people have the use
of only one.* Their numbers entitled them to at least
five of these schools, “but the school board refuses them
to us,” said an intelligent Afro-American in response to a
query from Stanley.
*This building they have occupied for fifteen years. From this they have been
driven out by the police, by the order of the school board. It is but just to say that
a pretty good building is being erected in Carrollton for the colored children, and
another tolerably fair building now occupied by them in MacDonoghville, bat
apart from these the only respectable public building occupied by them was that in
the sixth district from which nearly five hundred of them have been driven into a
worthless, uncomfortable and dilapidated building to make room for about fifty
white children. Another piece of injustice rests in the fact that third rate white
teachers, having no sympathy with the colored children, are placed in charge of
nearly all their schools, while worthy and competent colored teachers are turned
off.-S. W. Christian Advocate, November, 1889.


263
VT
Of the public parks and pleasure grounds to which
they would resort for a study of the different types which
the city afforded, they were pleased with the Spanish Fort,
which was situated way out at the upper end of the city
by Lake Pontchartrain, and at the mouth of Bayou St.
John; also with the West End and Carrollton gardens.
Of this latter place, George W. Cable, in “Au Large,”
grows enthusiastic, and from that work we take the follow-
ing: “If I might have but one small part of New Orleans
to take with me wherever I go or may wander in this
earthly pilgrimage, I should ask for Carrollton gardens.
They lie near the farthest upper limit of the expanded
city. I should want, of course, to include the levee under
which runs one side of the garden's fence, also the oppo-
site shore of the Mississippi, with its just discernible
plantation houses behind their levee; and the great bend
of the river itself, with the sun setting in unutterable
gorgeousness behind the distant low-lying pecan groves of
Nine Mile Point, and the bronzed and purpled waters
kissing the very crown of the great turfed levee, down
under whose land side the gardens blossom, and give forth
their hundred perfumes and bird songs to the children and
lovers that haunt their winding alleys of oleander, jessa-
mine, haurustine, orange, aloe and rose, the grove of mag-
nolias and oaks and come out upon the levee's top as the
sun sinks to catch the gentle breeze and the twilight
change to moonlight on the waters.”
From Cable's delightful romances had they formed
their conception of some of the types which they came
hither to see. Nor were they disappointed, for many a
gallant Narcisse, shy Claudes and bashful Marguerites did
they see.
They took a trip to Shell Beach and down to the gulf


264
through the jetties—that marvel of scientific engineering
which has rendered certain the channel of the Mississippi
at the Delta. The idea originated in the mind of, and was
pushed through and finished by, the indomitable Eads.
There was a vast difference between the Mississippi
River with its floating wharves and dark stevedores pas-
sing to and fro, echoing and re-echoing their songs as they
went, and the scenes they were accustomed to on the
Detroit docks. The river, too, was muddier and their
boats different. There was a waiting-room for the colored
people and a part of the boat set aside for their use,
although the rule is not always strictly adhered to. Bykeep-
ing close to Stanley, Saunders passed without challenge to
the upper decks, from which they had an excellent view of
shore and country in the ride down the Mississippi past
Forts Jackson and Phillips and out through the jetties into
the gulf where Saunders caught his first sniff of salt
water, and saw ocean steamships for the first time. The
experience was novel and exciting. He sniffed the sea
breezes, drew it in by great breath fulls, and felt his chest
expand and his spirits rise with its bracing effect. “This
is magnificent," he remarked to Stanley, and out came his
note book.
Being a civil engineer by profession he was very much
interested in the jetties. He was familiar with its scien-
tific principles in gathering, by means of its aprons, the
water as it came out of the river and forcing it through a
narrow channel into the sea. Gradually the channel deep-
ened until its least depth in 1885 was 31.3 feet. The engi.
neering instinct was in him and he looked with pride upon
the work that had done so much for New Orleans, and
wondered if over the time would come when such as he
would be able to so overcome customs, as to secure the


266
CHAPTER XIII.
The following afternoon at four o'clock found them
seated on the promenade deck of the steamer Louisiana,
bound for Vicksburg. All the arrangements thereto had
been made by Stanley, who, much against his desire,
forced himself, in order to satisfy Saunders, to consider
the relations between the races. Being somewhat in
advance of the time for the boat to leave for the up river
ports, they ascended to the promenade deck to have a bet-
ter view of the bustle going on along the levee. As Saun-
ders attempted to go above he was approached by an
officer of the boat who rather forcibly told him that he had
no business there. The blood mounted to his face in
anger, a quick hot reply was on his lips, but he remem-
bered his promise and with difficulty restrained himself.
Stanley remonstrated and went to the captain of the
steamer to ask the privilege of having “his servant with
him on deck.” It was a bitter pill to swallow for one of
his principles, but he saw or rather knew it was useless
for one to struggle against so many. His request was
granted and for the balance of their time on the steamer
they had no further trouble in that direction,
The scene along the wharves was a busy one and gave
them a striking example of New Orleans business and
thrift. There was a large number of steamers along the
levee whose crews were busily loading and unloading their
cargoes. The celerity with which the cotton bales were
unloaded and assigned to their proper places, was to those
ignorant of the system employed, astonishing. There
were dock loungers, both black and white. There was the


267
R
imperious mate, and his squad of stevedores, hustling
freight and cursing like a trooper. There was the typioal
old black aunty with her red bandanna-one of the last
relics of slavery—and basket, and the equally ancient relic
of Bourbon aristocracy—the broken-down colonel of the
late unpleasantness; broken down in physique and fortune.
Stanley noticed one of these standing near the levee talk-
ing to an attentive group. His long beard, broad hat and
thin features proclaimed him a type of the Southern poli.
tician. From a word that reached him now and then
Stanley concluded that he was talking politics. Desiring
to become better acquainted with the species he left Saun-
ders, went below and stepped ashore to join the group and
hear what the man had to say about his subject.
He was expatiating on the beauties of Bourbon princi-
ples and the rule of the “superior” race. He was also urging
a vigorous and aggressive campaign to keep down the
Afro-American and to maintain a white man's government.
He had the broad dialect peculiar to the Southeastern
coast, and after talking a while, after Stanley joined the
group, began to answer questions that were asked him.
He was uniformly addressed as Colonel and Stanloy wish-
ing to ask a few questions, addressed him in the same
style.
“Excuse me, Colonel, I am a stranger here. What's
the drift of politics down here, and who do the people
think will be the next president?”
“Befoh I answer your question, sah, may I ask you
from what part of the country you are from ?”
“From Michigan, Colonel.”
“I thought you were a Yank the first time I sot my
eyes on yer. I didn't spose yo'd care how politics was get-
ting on down heah.”


270
carry our provisions with us." Afterwards as they sat on
the deck enjoying the beautiful moonlit scene and smok-
ing their cigars, Saunders said: “The more liberal-minded
people of the South are not responsible for the outrages
committed against Afro-Americans, but prejudice is so
prevalent that every one had to accede to its demands, and
many rash people have overstepped' all rules of decency to
do what they conceived to be popular. My observation
and experience assuro me of this fact, that the poorer and
more ignorant the people—North or South—the deeper
rooted are their prejudices.”
“I don't blame you for not wanting to live South after
what I have seen,” said Stanley. "I wonder if they would
allow you in their churches. We will see when we get to
Birmingham."
The rooms were so warm within that they sat quite late
out on the deck enjoying the night breeze and viewing the
lights along the shore. Occasionally the steamer would
stop to take on a few bales of cotton to save time on the
down trip when loaded..
Stanley had fallen into a reverie over his cigar and was
musing over their experiences in New Orleans. His gen-
erous, impulsive spirit could not view the customs of the
South as anything else but artificial, as a something that
was contrary to all natural law or reason, which must at
some time have a rude awakening. For a long time not a
word passed between them. At last Stanley broke the
silence.
" John, I have been thinking what a monster prejudice
is. It is hideous in every particular, and when a man
becomes possessed of it he has a disease which biases his
reason, blights his judgment, warps his conscience and
withers all his charitable impulses. He becomes more


271
intolerant than a Pharisee, and narrower than the man
who scoffs at the revelations of science. What to some
men would be considered the dark lurking of a sinister
imagination, to the prejudiced soul would be considered
the beau ideal of manly qualities. Since we have entered
this country that should resound with songs of happiness
and content, should even be filled with milk and honey,'
be rich in agricultural and mineral wealth, where har-
monious nature is so complete, like an unhappy stroke of
fate, prejudice has followed us at every step and turn,
until I have no words strong enough to express the disgust
I feel.”
“And yet you have only felt it in its mildest forms.
When you have felt it as I have your tongue will be
unhinged, for if 'out of the fullness of the heart the
mouth speaketh, your words would flow without the effort
of utterance. Twixt rebellion and despair we have nursed
these man-imposed curses, and been patient when Job
would have carried his resentment to the point of fury.
Mercy is twice blessed, but prejudice is thrice cursed. It)
curses him who practices it, him at whom it is aimed, and
is cursed of God who made all men and nations of one
blood and redeemed them through His Son. Prejudice is
conscienceless and relentless. Conscienceless because that
lever of the soul which lifts it unto Heaven, once warped,
moves it to deeds of hell that gives sanction to its concep-
tions. Relentless because shorn of its attendant quality,
charity, it is conscious of no wrong. See how it blights
our prospects by circumscribing the avenues of our use-
fulness and associations; how it dwarfs the sphere of our
thought by the narrowness that prejudice imposes on the
mind. See how it permits outrages and murders that are
contrary to every sense of justice and right. See how,


272
because of it, the virtue and integrity of our homes are
laid an open prey to vicious men. This is all a natural
outgrowth of this fixed idea of race superiority, and the
evidences of it is attested by the bleaching of the original
African stock.”
“My own observations of it have made me the more
determined to use every endeavor to make my colored fel-
low citizens feel that in my presence they are men in so
far as they are fitted by education and integrity to be so
considered. Hitherto I have lived without a purpose; this
shall now be my purpose, and you shall be my advisor in
the matter. I believe that justice is growing in the South,
however. The number of liberal minded people will be in
the majority in another decade, and public sentiment will
cry down many of the disabilities under which your race
now labors. You must furnish men of capital and busi-
ness who can meet these men, who are swallowed up in
their bigoted idea of superiority, on terms of business
equality. Such competition never fails in winning respect.
I could not have believed that you would have been treated
as a criminal when there is no excuse for it. Your eloquent
protest but deepens my admiration for you."
"If we are to confess our mutual admiration, my esteem
for you approaches to love, for you have treated me as a
man from the first, showing not the slightest taint of prej-
udice and you are a friend now.”'
“Hush! Do not pollute the name of love by coupling it
with prejudice. Love is a sacred and consoling thought
to me now that I am in this despondent state. How I
have loved, you may not know, yet I should not imagine
to myself that I love better, that it is stronger, or purer
than others, but I cannot define the depths and heights of
the love my heart contains. This brief separation, although


273
self-imposed, has refined and sweetened the anticipation of
its final consummation."
“I cannot concede that your love is stronger than
mine, for with me my love is my chief hope. Still there
are many incapable of the strong passions of either love or
hate. Adversity smothers their love, and the power of
money purchases either. But why do you choose to
lacerate your heart by enduring a separation when you
are convinced that you are beloved in return?”
“Because I cannot bear to be considered so weak when
the limit of our separation is set. Should I allow myself
the pleasure of her society I might some day forfeit my
claim to reason and endurance by renewing what I have
sworn to let be at rest. I know though that she longs
for me even as I long for her."
“I shall be glad to see you two united.”
“We will be, John, we will be. I feel it in every heart
beat.”
“You are more sanguine than I am then, although I
am engaged, for I have a presentiment that I shall never
see Edith again.”
"Fiddlesticks! Apprehension has called up latent,
superstitions which you should not encourage. Fight it,
if you wish for peace. Why, I have always thought you
very sanguine. I cannot understand your melancholy
presentiment.”
“I confess that melancholy has seized me since I have
been here. The odds have been so against me, greater
than I have ever known before. That makes me appre-
hensive and I cannot escape the melancholy.”
"I will admit that such a marked change in one's con-
dition would have its influence on his feeling. I never
experienced such a strange longing, mixed with hope and


275
CHAPTER XIV.
The Louisiana was one of the largest and most ele-
gantly equipped of all the steamers that left New Orleans
for up river ports. She was a very popular steamer and
had usually a large number of cabin passengers. She was
built chiefly, however, as nearly all these steamers are
that ply the lower Mississippi, for the cotton carrying
trade.
On her way up the river she had stopped at a fow
unimportant points to take on a few passengers and some
cotton bales which her officers thought best to take on
now and save time on the down trip when the steamer
would be heavily loaded. She had a large crew of roust-
abouts, and on this trip carried a large number of deck
passengers, most of whom were Afro-Americans.
As the nights were still warm these passengers lay care-
lessly around among the cotton bales looking, talking and
some sleeping. The moon, which was yet young, cast a
bright silvery light over the water, but was beginning to
descend behind the trees on the left which lay beyond the
swamps back of the levee.
A few hours later everything was still save the beatings
and the pulsations of the engine and the splash of the
steamer's great, stern paddle wheels. The still monotony
was at times relieved by the tread of the watch, the voice
of the pilot or by the sound of firing up. The night was
now dark and it was relieved only by the glimmer of the
stars above or a solitary light here and there along the
shore that pierced through the thick darkness that seemed


276
to envelop it. There was then no sign of danger to warn
the people on board of the peril they were in. Every-
thing about them was so calm and peaceful.
It may have been a spark from the smokestack that
alighted among the cotton bales, or it may have been a
spark from the pipe of a deck passenger who had fallen
asleep among them. Certain it was that the cotton became
ignited, and being very inflammable, the fire sped with
great rapidity, and the first note of warning came to the
officers through a colored woman, who, terrified with
fright and horror, rushed forward frantically shouting,
“De cotton's a blazin' and we'se all dead."*
Then arose that dreadful cry that so startled Stanley,
and Saunders. A cry that fills the sailor's hearts, and all
others when at sea, with terror, deprives men of reason,
and makes them rush hither and thither like mad objects
bent only upon the pursuit of safety.
“Fire! Fire!” rang out the cry, followed by the roar
of the steamer's whistles, as the alarm was given, that
awoke the startled echoes along the shore, causing pande-
monium to reign on board, while the startled inhabitants
here and there along the shore rushed out of doors, ran to
and fro upon the leveos where a sight grand and terrible in
its every aspect met their gaze.
What spectacle is more horrible and heart-rending,
grand even in its horror and agony than a steamer
wrapped in a lurid flame from stem to stern, of fire
rushing like a screaming, living thing in torture through
the dark water? In appearance a monster from whose
entrails is heard far above the crackling of the flames, the
hoarse roaring of the whistles, and the escaping steam,
*When the steamer Kate Adams was burned, Dec. 23, 1888, the first alarm was
given by a colored woman in the manner as described.


277
the shrieks of human beings in mortal agony and fear.
The piteous appeals for help that were heart-rending to
the souls of the onlookers, made their flesh creep and
almost impelled them to flee away from such a scene of
distress, or close their ears to the shrieks of agony. But
their feet seemed rooted, their eyes set and they felt com.
pelled to gaze by some strange fascination on the sicken.
ing horror and gather in its minutest details.
In the ghastly lights of the flames they could see
human forms rushing madly hither and thither over the
decks, fleeing wildly from hot scorching tongues of fire.
They saw forms, as if vomited forth from the crater of a
volcano, leaping and falling into the waters lit up by the
flames, whose swells engulfed them and where a death
more merciful, because less painful awaited them.
As the boat drew nearer they could distinguish the
features of the people on board. Some were marked by
terror and despair, some transfixed by fright, others by a
calm resignation, and a few by hope as they saw the
steamer nearing the shore. They could see brave men
doing their utmost to calm, cheer and save. They could
see pilot, calm and undaunted, grasping the wheel, while
the flames almost lapped him. They could see men leap-
ing with impromptu rafts, or pushing overboard a cotton
bale, and vainly endeavoring to float upon it safely to the
shore. Under the glow of the flames, upon the surface
of the water here and there they could see a face whose
owner was making a brave struggle for life.
Nearer still came the steamer and the watchers on
shore shook off the strange fascination that bound them,
and stood ready to render all the aid in their power. At
last the steamer's bow struck the bank, and obeying her
helm she swung around broadside to the levee. The great


279
CHAPTER XV.
Stanley and Saunders, looking into each other's eyes,
read the same thoughts that agitated each, and each was
asking himself, is it destiny? While thus they sat, for the
moment their muscles paralyzed, the dread cry rose again
on the air and the roar of the whistles aroused them from
their stupor.
Saunders was the first to recover and exclaimed: “Save
yourself, Seth, while I awake the passengers."
“Remember your presentiment, John, and be careful.
I will go with you and if the worst happens we will die
together."
“You shall not go. You shall not die and you must
not think of it, for you have too much to live for."
“When the lives of others are at stake and may be
saved from a horrible death, shall future prospects occupy
the mind to the detriment of our duty. Move on and be
quick.”
" I say you shall not go,” said Saunders with a look of
determination. “What if I should die so that you survive.
Now that there is time, Seth, prepare to escape by the
river.” Saunders' voice at the last became one of entreaty.
"And I say that you shall run no risks that I dare not
share,” said Stanley, proudly. His form seemed to expand
with the thought of the work before him and Saunders
seeing that it was of no use to argue when every minute
meant lives sacrificed to the fury of the flames, said:
“ Come on then!"
They started for the door leading to the cabin, but too


281
passageway and blinded by pain, leaped over the steamer's
sides. Some were shrieking and crying for help and
others crying aloud to God for mercy. The sounds of the
roaring flames and cracking timbers, the escaping steam
and the cries of the passengers continued to make a hor-
rible babel that made Stanley's heart thump with anxiety
and excitement and his hair to almost stand on end. A
few made their way through the windows forward, bruised
and bleeding, to where Stanley and Saunders stood
Others pushed through side entrances. Still others,
bruised and burned, frantically leaped with shrieks into
the water. Some to sink into its depths with but a strug.
gle or groan, others to make a struggle to reach the shore.
Still others sank overcome by the smoke and fear and
their bodies became prey to the flames.
To watch the struggles of some and be unable to help
or give relief was a source of great anguish to the two
young men.
The Louisiana was headed for the shore and was going
at a fair rate of speed, but so fiercely did the fire rage that
in their excitement it seemed as if the steamer would
never reach the shore, and that all of them would be com-
pelled to risk their chances by water, where if they died
they would meet a moro merciful death.
Every minute seemed an hour in length as the great
tongues of flame came reaching out to them. It is already
so hot that to protect their faces and bodies from the
scorching glare, they must leap overboard or burn to
death.
At last the boat with a thud touches the shore. The
flames, now unfed by the draft, shoot staight upward and
some relief is given. The great plank is pushed out, but
before a landing could be secured, mad with excitement


282
and fear, the people rush upon it. The guy ropes give
way, the plank swings around under the steamer's guard
and becomes useless. Those upon it are precipitated into
the water and become mired in mud. To increase the
horror the boat swings around and out by the force of the
current and drifts down the stream. The pilot had, despite
the heat and his great danger stuck to his post, until the
steamer had struck the bank when he too, made a rush for
safety.
Afloat on a burning steamer with no pilot to guide and
safety so near. The situation seemed appaling. The cries
of anguish and agony, and appeals for help to those on
shore were redoubled. Made desperate many leaped over-
board. Some escaped with the aid of those on shore, but
a few were held fast in the mud and were nearly roasted
to death by the intense heat from the burning steamer as
it slowly drifted past. The rest on board began to get
ready to trust their chances to the waters when the boat
again acted as if under control, and looking up to the pilot
house they saw there at the wheel, shading his face with
one hand as if protecting it from the intense heat and
lapping flames, a black man. His black face was red from
the glowing heat for he was fringed in with fire. His deed
of heroism challenged the admiration of the crowd, and
despite their terror and danger there arose a cheer for that
indifference that could so calmly brave certain death.
Slowly the steamer swung around again and made for the
shore, and again passing those who had become mired in
the mud or were climbing upon the steep levee banks, the
intense heat, finished with some, the work of death, and
with others fairly cooked parts of their flesh. Their
shrieks and piteous appeals were fearful.
Again the boat with a thud struck the shore, and those


283
on board lost no time in getting ashore. Bruised, bleed-
ing, burned, and scarred by their fight with fire they pre-
sented a pitiable appearance. With the aid of those on
the levee, however, they soon crawled to a place of safety.
Stanley and Saunders among them.
Again the steamer swung out, but all on board have
now left it save the black pilot, who had stuck to his
volunteer post until all the people who had been able
left it.
Like a statue carved in ebony, but woefully disfigured
and burned, he now stood near the rail of the steamer's
deck either calculating the effects of a leap into the water
or benumbed by pain, while the tongues of flame played
about him, burnt his clothes and licked his body. A black
nameless hero he stood, whose voluntary self-sacrifice made
him fit to rank among those whom Nations delight to
honor as the saviors of men. He was no less a hero
because his skin was black or that he came of a despised
race, or from the nameless poor.
He looked up and in the red glare of the blaze could
be seen the traces of great pain.
Admiration for his courage took possession of the
onlookers and from the crowd a dozen voices cried: "Leap!
man, leap! or you are lost.”
He moved with effort, gathered himself together and
made a feeble jump into the water below, where his feet
became embedded in the soft mud, from which he was
rescued while dying, with a countenance so disfigured by
burns as to be beyond recognition.
The steamer drifting down the stream, still continued
in its work of destruction. It passed so close to the brave
captain of the Louisiana, who had jumped overboard when
the steamer first drifted away from the leveo and had
!


284
become bogged, as to literally roast him to death despite
the heroic efforts that had been made to rescue him.
In those trying hours race was for the moment forgot-
ten. There were Afro-Americans among both passengers
and crew. They numbered among the dead and dying
and were among the rescuers. Misfortune and disaster
had for a time abolished racial lines, and that condition.
which knew no racial distinction existed.
Kind hearts and willing hands did all that could be
done to alleviate suffering. Captain Jameson and the name.
less black hero lay side by side upon the levee. The two
brave loyal souls found rest, white and black, after dread-
ful moments of agony and distress, in the bosom of Father
Abraham. There is no separate place or prejudice there
where their two souls, together, went. ,
Down the river a loud report told of the bursting of
the boiler or steam valves, while here and there could be
seen burning bales of cotton blazing like beacons in the
darkness. The next morning the Louisiana was found
burned to the water's edge and stuck in the soft mud-a
few miles below where the survivors had landed, a useless
wreck.
The scene of human beings crying for help in mortal
agony and leaping to destruction to escape a more cruel
death while those on shore were powerless to aid, had
stirred every heart to its depth, and the measure of human
kindness heaped to the full, was spent on the survivors.
Sore and bedraggled with blood and mud they were cared
for throughout the night, and the next morning such as
were able to go were sent to the nearest station. Here
Stanley telegraphed home for money, and when it came,
he purchased, as far as the place could supply, another
outfit for himself and his companion. They had saved
nothing from the missing steamer, except what they had
on their persons. All their notes, clothing and trinkets
had become a prey to the devouring flames, and they, sore
and bruised, with bandages upon their persons, rejoiced
that they were yet alive.


285
CHAPTER XVI.
“I thank God," said Seth Stanley, “to be again on
terra firma. No more of your presentiments, John; you
have half made me a believer in the divination of the
future. Yet I am constrained to think that your feelings
and the subsequent acoident with its perils, was but a
strange coincidence."
“My mind,” replied Saunders, “has been so full of the
scenes of that fire, and its horrid pictures of human beings
struggling in the throes of death, that I am in no condi.
tion to think. It seems as if I can even now hear their
shrieks as the flames enveloped them and they fell, to
grope for an instant, and then die with their eyes turned
toward Heaven, with a staring, appealing look. Then the
gurgling moans of the unfortunates who preferred death.
by drowning to that by fire, and who went down in the
sight of help that was powerless to aid. I have but to
close my eyes and the picture is before me with all its
details vividly depicted.”
"I shall never forget that scene myself. I hid my face
from it once. I could not stand it or I should have been
impelled to rush into the flames myself, and have met the
same death. Never shall I forget the heroism of those
brave men who met such a horrible death through their
efforts to save others. Brave Captain Jameson, blistered
and burning, saying: “Don't mind me; save the others,"
and that nameless black hero martyr, who looked death in
the face so intrepidly, in its form of raging flames, whose
fiery tongues licked and scorched him while he remained


286
---
-
--
-
-
-
at his self-imposed station until the boat ran ashore. We
owe our lives to him." Greater love hath no man than this,
to give up himself to such a horrible doom to save others.
When the Captain and he were laid on the shore together,
the color of his skin did not prevent the recognition of
his heroism or keep him from sharing the full sympathy
of those present. Hearts and hands were wrung as they
lay writhing in their death agony. It may be some such
great sorrow, afflicting both black and white, that will
chasten and refine this section, that the two people will be
finally brought closer together and live in greater har.
mony. Misery and trouble, like God, are no respecters of
persons and are great levelers.
They were on a railway train which was speeding rap-
idly through the State of Mississippi to Birmingham, Ala.
A word here and there of their conversation was caught
up by their neighbors, and soon it became noised through
the cars that there were two people on the train that had
been passengers on the ill-fated Louisiana. They became
the center of an interested and enquiring group, were
plied with questions and on request, went over the scenes
they had passed through.
“Your experience must have been horrible," said one.
“Horrible does not describe my feelings,” said Stanley.
The dispatches relating to the accident had preceded
them and at every station where the train stopped, there
were people on the lookout for more complete details, and
over and over again they repeated to the curious the
details of the disaster.
Exhausted and almost sick from excitement, loss of
appetite and sleep, and from exposure they were com-
pelled to stop off at — for rest. They remained there
for a day before proceeding on to Birmingham.
----
-
--


290
the interest in, and the position taken by him in his rela-
tions with me down here. As you know, one of his chief
objects in coming South was to find out if the representa-
tions he had heard were true. He is now of the opinion
that the full extent of the wrongs committed against the
Afro-American and white Republicans have never been
made public at the North. Many Northern people have
come down here, but they have simply skimmed over the
South. Being wined and dined they saw it in its brightest
or took for granted the representations of their hosts.
The curtain was not drawn aside for them to see how
hideous and unreasonable are the forms and practices of
prejudice. They did not feel or experience it as we have.
Others coming here and falling into social life have out-
Heroded Herod by their false representations. Our
experiences have been such as to thoroughly disgust Seth
with the customs here, and has made him a staunch friend
of the race in all that the term friend implies. With his
unselfish interests, his undaunted spirit, and fixedness of
purpose, such a friend can be of inestimable value in pre-
senting our cause to the people. We have reached an era
in the history of our advancement when we need staunch
friends who will give us positions of responsibility, that
our worth and capabilities may be seen. As it is now the
wealthy and refined whites see too little of the best ele-
ments amongst us, and there can, as a result, be but one
consequence, a low estimate of what we are capable of
doing and being.
“Stanley's Christian name, Seth, is from the Hebrew,
and its meaning is Appointed. Who can tell but what he
may be APPOINTED of God to help bring this fearful race
question to a peaceful and successful solution. If I were
asked why this idea occurs to me I would say because he


291
has the material in him that distinguishes the great man.
There are men who act only when the world applauds;
they are creatures of sentiment and observers of opinion,
which they follow. But the great man acts without
thought of whether the world will condemn or applaud.
He cares nothing for the popular clamor, but he acts
according to his preconceived ideas of right and jus-
tice, and if the world does not appreciate them at first, it
does afterwards. Such men were Garrison, Phillips, Sum-
ner, John Brown, Lovejoy, and others whose memories are
dear to us. Such are the convictions that sway Stanley,
and he has the requisite courage to obey his ideas of right
and justice. Such a man, or rather hero, deserves success
in life and in affairs of love. We will soon be home now,
and I feel sorry to know that he cannot at once repair to
Miss Stone with the same anticipation of a happy future
with which I will return to you. I only wish you could
know her as I do him. She is so pleasing in manner and
address, that she would win almost any one's respect, if
not their love. She has often joined with him in making
me feel that I am a man, and by no word or gesture has
she made me feel that she considered me an inferior, or
unworthy of friendship. When they are married no harsh
requirements of prejudice, or conformity to the opinions
and customs of society, shall keep you from knowing one
whom you will find to be a kindred spirit.
“Give yourself no further concern as to my safety. I
am all right and cautious. I shall soon be at home to you
and dear old father, in ten days at least. May God give
his angels charge concerning thee.
Yours affectionately,
JOHN.”


292
CHAPTER XVII.
Edith Darrow had not heard from John Saunders for
what seemed to her a long time, and she had begun to feel
quite despondent over it. Her active imagination, aided
by her love and fears, conjured up difficulties that
increased in size and became more numerous as each
succeeding day passed with no tidings of the absent one.
She was familiar, from constant watching, with the
time the postman made his appearance, and if away
from home she usually managed to return shortly after he
was due.
One afternoon a few days after Saunders wrote his
letter, she was out shopping. Timing herself, as usual, she
hastened home rather despondently. As soon as she
entered the door she put the usual anxious query.
“Any mail?”
“Yes, a letter from John.”'
A great change came over her in an instant. She forgot
that she was tired; gone was the despondent feeling of a
few moments before; with eyes dancing and with a smil-
ing countenance, she gave a hop and a skip to her mother's
side as she asked with all eagerness.
“Where is it, mother?” looking from table to sideboard
and taking all the articles upon them in at a glance.
“If it had been a snake it would have bitten you,"
answered her mother. “I put it up in the window so it
would be the first thing you might see when you entered
the house."
Edith clasped her mother's cheeks between her hands
and kissed them first on one side and then on the other.


294
Edith re-read the letter for her mother's benefit, then
put on her hat to go and seo Mr. Saunders.
“To use a slang phrase, mother, Mr. Stanley is a brick,
and I hope that John's estimate of his character and sur-
mise of his future will prove true.”
“He seemed to be a nice fellow when he was here. I
have often wondered why he took such a liking to John."
“For the same reason I did. I understand it perfectly."
Before her mother could reply Edith had gone.
Mr. Saunders was now living with a married daughter
on W- street, not far from the Darrows. John made
his home with her also. Thither Edith went to find the
old gentleman sitting out enjoying the autumn sunshine.
He was now too old to engage in the active duties of life.
and in his old age depended upon John for support,
When he saw Edith, her face flushed and radiant, he
accosted her with, “God bless you, honey, I know you've
got good news from John. I see it in your face."
“Yes, and I have brought the letter with me to read it
to you. He expects to be home in at least ten days."
“He's a good boy, honey, but jest wait till I gets you a
chair. We'll sit right out here and enjoy that letter all by
ourselves.”
The way Mr. Saunders bobbed up and hurried around,
getting his future daughter-in-law a seat would have made
one believe that he was the suitor instead of the son. He
soon appeared with a chair, and after seeing Edith com-
fortably seated, took his own chair and sat in front of her,
and inclining his head to one side, he placed a hand
behind one ear so that no word could escape his eager
hearing. “Now we's ready,” said he.
As she read in her rich voice that fell like sweet music
upon his ears, ever and anon he put in an ejaculation of


295
surprise or approval, disgust or anger, according as he was
moved by what he heard, sometimes he would stop her to ,
make a comment on what had been read.
“I am glad the boy is comin' home so soon,” he said
when she had finished. “I have felt kinder uneasy since
he's been down there. You see my chile, he don't know
how to take them white folks as use ter own slaves. He
growed up different from what we did. I thank God often
that our children do not have to go through what we did.”
“I think it's a shame that he has to be insulted the
way that he is. He is just as good as any of them. There
isn't anything about him, either in manner or person, that
could be offensive to the most fastidious, and yet he is
treated as if he had no more feeling than a brute.”
“He is a great deal better than lots of them, but its
going ter take them white people down there a long time
to find it out. A good many of 'em will die before they
ever know it, or knowing it, to own it. You see the trouble
is, honey, old Joe and Uncle Sam who don't know nuthen'
and don't want much is better to them than these fellows
that know as much as they do. They have always got the
old heads, like me, who don't know much under 'em, and
they keep 'em so. When we gets so we know better, we
are no use to 'em."
“But, Father Saunders, they get around facts, and it is
a fact that the thousands of colored children graduating
year after year from our public schools, with the same test
applied to them as to others, are almost, if not quite, as
intelligent as their classmates."
“That's jest it, Edith, the trouble is that one-half the
world is trying to devise means to escape facts. A man
seldom accepts anything agin his intrust till he's forced
to."


296
“ Well, it isn't right, just nor fair for ambitious, cap-
able people to be forced to the bottom and kept there,
because others not connected with you in any way, except
by race and hardly that in this country, are ignorant.
We are willing to be subjected to any test that civilization
and enlightenment may apply, so that the test be applied
to all alike, and will be willing to abide by the tests."
“You may live to see such a time Edith; God grant
that you may I know I wont. If only I could, I would
say, like Simeon, 'Now Lord lettest thy servant depart in
peace.”
“I trust I may see a better day for my people; if I
thought not I would want to die now.”
“There now, honey, don't you get to feeling so miser-
able, I didn't mean to make you sad. When John comes
home life will appear like itself again.”
Edith arose to go, but upon being urged by Mr.
Saunders, went in to “visit awhile.”


297'
CHAPTER XVIII.
Buried in thought, and enjoying the ease that comes
to those who have passed through severe trials, when in
safety, or through a period of restless activity, Stanley sat
in an elegant suite of rooms in the hotel.
Presently he pressed the call and upon the appearance
of the bell boy, ordered writing materials, and then he
resumed his former easy position. Intent in the same
deep train of thought that seemed to carry his mind far
away, he did not hear the boy as he entered the room with
paper and ink. From his manner, and the expression of
deep perplexity that now and then crossed over his face, it
was evident that he was engrossed with some weighty sub-
ject. He arose from his chair shortly after and paced up
and down the room several times, then a light broke over
his countenance as if some revelation had suddenly burst
upon him. Whatever he had been thinking about was
settled to his own satisfaction. Then, noticing the writing
materials he had ordered, he sat down and wrote:
Dear Father:-I am at last in Birmingham, and have
received enough rest to now supplement the meager
information imparted by my telegram from — La. You
have doubtless eagerly scanned the papers for all inform-
ation concerning the burning of the Louisiana, but you
can scarcely form a conception of its horrors from news-
paper reports. When I think of it I become completely
unnerved, so I shall reserve a description of the fire with
its perile, for a time when I can look back upon it with


298
calmer feelings. John and I lost everything-clothing,
curiosities, and different memoranda which we had jotted
down for future use.
We will probably remain here for several days, so if
you have not confidence enough in my memory to think it
has retained all the instructions given to me relative to the
investments made, and which you desire to make, you will
have time to write them down and forward the same to me
here. Owing to the outrageous customs here I am domi-
ciled at the hotel, while John is somewhere else.
Where, I do not know, as he left me but a few hours ago.
We are very much inconvenienced by having to remain
apart, but I cannot have him near me and justify my con-
:science, for neither at the hotel, or traveling on the
steamer is it possible to have him near me, except in the
capacity of a servant. I had fully made up my mind to
resist such insults to my friend, but for his sake I suffer
it, and the position is a bitter one to me.
Everything down here runs to politics at present.
Political excitement is very high, and the relations
between the races is rendered more dangerous. This is
one reason why, for John's sake, I have refrained from
insisting on those rights due him as a man. In a few of
the country districts a reign of terror prevails, whose
embers are kept alive and fanned by the ignorant poor
whites, who seem to be as low down in the scale of ignor-
ance and degradation as the lower order of the Negroes,
or as John calls them, and I shall do likewise, Afro-Amer-
icans. In my short time around the hotels here I have
heard a strange terrible story, but it illustrates the
depravity, and intense political hatred, borne to the
blacks and to white Republicans. It happened in a small
town in Mississippi. The story is as follows:
-----
- -
-
-


299
“Three traveling men sat on the piaza of a hotel; their
talk had been on trade and finally drifted to politics. A
party of whites came along and catching enough of their
conversation to think that they were Republicans, began
to insult and abuse them. A few colored men came along
and took their part. The white men were armed. There
was a jostle and a short scuffle, a few shots, and the col-
ered men had yielded up their lives. When the traveling
men saw their defenders thus disposed of, they looked at
each other with pale faces. The same thought that the
dead must not go unavenged passed through their minds.
Each to the other, with his eyes, said farewell, and they
made a rush at their assailants. But what chance have
unarmed men against the armed? Instead of conflict
there is murder and massacre-relics of brute savagery
and man's unhumanity. In less time than it takes to tell
it, these men were also murdered, and without fear of
justice or retribution, because public sentiment was with
them, they rode off perhaps exulting in the death of the
'niggers' and the infernal Yankees. Thus to satisfy
insensate hatred six human beings had been murdered. I
have heard of no such cold-blooded barbarity enacted this
side of the Fiji Islands, or by Russian despotism, and yet
it is only one instance of many that occur with increasing
regularity if reports be true.”
"I fancy I hear you say, 'Horrible! Where are the
authorities?' There is no justice for the Afro-American
or his sympathizers in the country or in the towns, and
but a little in the larger cities. Before coming down here
I refused to credit the stories of race troubles, and rather
attributed them to political partisanship to serve party
purposes, but my own experienee goes to confirm a great
many of them, and I fear for the peace of a country which


300
DOI.
permits such things. True, there are liberal men here
who denounce these outrages, but they seem powerless to
prevent them.
"I have used my eyes while here and have observed a
great deal. I have watched the different classes in the cities
and for the life of me, I cannot see that the ignorant black
is more vicious than the ignorant classes in the large
cities of the North, nor can I account for the bitter feeling
manifested against him. His greatest fault seems to be
that his ancestors were torn from their native country,
worked for centuries in the fields of the South, contribut-
ing to its great material growth for which he received noh
compensation. Then permitting himself, through the
strange vicissitude of events, to become a free man and the
political equal of his late master.
“An impartial mind, brought to bear upon the problem
of this section, would consider all these fears of black
domination or extravagance to be chimeras, which are used
to perpetuate a wholly unjust and pernicious system. I
have examined into the past carefully with an unbiased
mind, and I find that in extravagance, the Afro-American
has not been more so than many whites in the North, nor
have his peculations been so large as those of white men
in this section. The corruption of the Tweed ring and
others, brought into prominent notice in the Empire State,
far exceed anything committed by the Afro-American
under Reconstruction, and yet there is no talk concerning
the unfitness, or rather, no measures to forcibly preclude
such men from governing. There is something about this
Reconstruction period which the country hears but little
of, but which redounds to the credit of this persecuted race,
who were hardly a decade out of slavery. Their concep-
tion of yovernment, their ideas of the basic principles of


301
the Republic, their generous treatment of their late mas-
ters, are in striking contrast to the government of the
superior race' now. Of course the carpet-bagger, who
has also been so roundly and unjustly abused, deserves no
little credit for the part taken by them in leading these
people to adopt such measures. The constitutions of the
States, adopted in 1868, were models of a Republican form
of government. They established the public school system
of this section, and first made it a part of the fundamental
law of the State. They instituted a uniformity of taxation
and overthrew the barbarous penal system, which, now
reinstated, is barbarously used against them. They also
inaugurated the municipal system of self-government and
abolished the property qualifications; and with generous
motives, removed the bars that had excluded those, who
had taken part in the war, from citizenship. Still this is
the same people of which we hear so much as to their
inferiority, by those who have received from them benefits
and whose return to power, it is claimed, would be attended
by such dire consequences. What awful return has been
his for his generosity? Since '76, thousands have been
murdered, and our civilization disgraced by wanton and
inhuman butcheries from the hands of the very men who
owed to him their citizenship, What would you or I do
under like circumstances? .
“During my convalescence and since, from words that
have passed between John and myself, I have thought a
great deal about this subject, and have concluded that
even in the North, much as it appears to be shocked by
the barbarity of the South, justice is not done to the Afro-
American. True, he has liberty of person and free use of
the ballot, but employment, save as , a menial, he finds it
difficult to obtain, no matter how intelligent or well fitted


302
he may be to fill the position for which he applies. The
laboring elements keep him out of workshops and stores
by their exhibitions of prejudice, and the American
people, despite the fact that he is a loyal citizen, who has
done his share in upholding the national flag and preserv-
ing the Union intact, by a shameful silence, acquiesces in
their dicta.
“I learn from John that his race does not ask for par-
ticular favors. It simply wants the same chance to earn a
living that is given to others, and it is willing to submit
to the same tests of intelligence and fitness. Ought not
their simple request be granted. (By the way I forgot to
say that John has informed me, and he is corroborated in
his statements by others, that the Afro-American does not
desire to rule, but they do desire that the Constitution
should be supreme). Of all the people I have come in
contact with, only our own seem to have an improper
idea of social and equal rights. It seems to be granted
that if you are at all familiar with a man in a business
way, he is to have a free entry into the family, and this is
probably one reason why the Afro-American has so much
trouble. Such an idea is, however, absurd, and in no other
country than ours is it expected. The Afro-American
does not want it or expect it, John says. He is satisfied
with his own home relations, and being of a sensitive
nature (particularly the more intelligent) would not
obtrude where he was not invited or wanted.
“I am glad that the house of Stanley has taken an
advanced step, and particularly so that it was taken before
I owed to John a debt of gratitude. You know his fitness
for the position he occupies, and you are satisfied with his
work. I have found him to be unusually bright and
intelligent, well informed, and with a capacity for hard


303
work in business beyond the average. I now wish to apply
the standard of fitness and ability to him, and with your
consent will promote him, on our return, to the position to
be made vacant by Morley, who leaves us in November to
embark in an enterprise out West. The increase in salary
will also be a handsome wedding present. You will excuse
me for dwelling almost entirely upon this one subject, but
almost every circumstance since coming South has forced
the question on my mind.
“ You can rest assured that I will do my best in refer-
ence to the business to be done here.
“Give my love to Imogene. Don't let her worry over
what I may have suffered on the burning steamer. Bar-
ring my shattered nerves, Richard is almost himself again.
We'll return to Detroit as soon as possible without extend-
ing the trip further. I have seen and experienced enough.
Good-bye.
Your affectionate son,
SETH."
Birmingham, Ala., Oct. 14th, 1888. .


1
307
teenth chapter of First Corinthians that I can repeat every
word of it. Let me give you a few verses that you may meas-
ure the sermon by what we are to hear. St. Paul says in
such a masterly way: “Though I speak with the tongues of
men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as
sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have
the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could
remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and
though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity,
it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is
kind; charity envieth not, charity vauniteth not itself, is
not puffed up.” Show me a church that practices these
principles toward me and I will say that the South is a
paradise. Such an one has not been here before to my
knowledge.”
“Those days have all gone by, John. With the new
dawn of humanity, Christianity took a forward step, and
put in the rear the old ill-conceived ideas of servitude
without compensation, or even of distinctions such as you
have mentioned in the future world. The Rev. Rucker is
celebrated, and surely up to the most enlightened ideas of
Christianity."
“If my interests in his subject would cause me to loose
self-consciousness, that would keep constanly before me,
the fact that he and the larger part of his audience would
despise my fellowship, then I might enjoy it. It is not
always the real violence and insult that cowers me, it is
the constant apprehension of it.”
"Self-consciousness is good enough in its place, but
you have seen so much to condemn down here, that I want
to show you something you can commend."


308
“Then I will lend to my feet wings, and go with you
without farther protest. I should like to say once when I
get home, that I thoroughly enjoyed myself while exercis-
ing the rights of a man. But mind, now, there must be no
rumpus should my appearance be objected to except in
the corner, which I have heard has been set off for the
colored people.”
"Sunday morning was all that one could wish. The
sun was just enough obscured by a thin fleece of clouds to
cut off the intensity of its heat, and to those who could see
God in nature, every surrounding seemed to say, “ Today
is the Lord's. He has set it apart unto Himself. The
heavens offer testimony to his glory, and all the earth
responds in unison to the chant of harmony." 'Twas such
a day when man having cast aside the turmoil of life, the
task of breadwinning, and the seditions that make discon-
tent rebel against its fate,
Could steal away from themselves, and care,
And give their souls to thoughts of Him, and prayer.
Stanley had arisen early, and immediately after break-
fast went to Saunders' boarding house, and together they
walked around the streets of Birmingham, until the ringing
of the church bells announced the hour of worship. The
divine, of whom Seth had spoken-Rev. Randolph Rucker
-was in charge of one of the fashionable churches. His
name and fame had spread beyond the limit of city and
state, as a man of eloquence and much learning, and
towards his church they directed their way, as the bells
began to chime.
The church itself was not imposing, yet of ample struc-
ture and architecture, to make a fine arpearance and have
a comfortable seating capacity.
.


310
their direction, and Stanley, fearing that he had made a
mistake, followed the usher.
When they reached the vestibule, the usher turned and
said: “You are evidently from the North, my friend, and
of course not acquainted with our customs. There is a
place fitted up for colored people to worship in when they
visit here, and it is nice and comfortable. We don't think
of such a thing as inviting them down where our wives
and daughters sit.”
“ You mean then,” replied Stanley, “ that my friend
must go up into that little fenced coop all by himself, or
he can not hear the gospel preached here."
- You don't look at it in the right light. We invite
them to come, but we expect that they will keep in their
place.”
“I see. It is an exclusive gospel you preach. We
will have none of it. Come on, John. I will go to church
with you,” and they left the church.
“ What did I tell you?” said Saunders.
“I wouldn't have believed it,” replied Stanley, as he
stopped suddenly. “I am going back and have it out.”
“Not for me; it isn't worth raising a fuss about, and
you know I have determined not to get into any trouble
down here."
“I am not going to make a fuss. I'm only going to
see the Rev. Rucker and lay the matter before him.”
“I wouldn't go back with you now, even if for your
sake he should reverse a common practice of the church.
I would think more of the insincerity of the proceedings
than of the sermon, if I did."
.“ Well, I am going to see for my own satisfaction what
his views are on the matter. He is a minister of the
Gospel.”


311
,
“All right. Do as you please. I am going where I
am certain I shall be welcome.”
They parted. Saunders to go with friends to a colored
church, and Stanley to the one they had just left.
The same asher met him, and Seth imagined he saw a
triumphant look in his eyes as he again offered to show
him a seat.
After taking the proffered seat Stanley wrote a note to
the Rev. Rucker, giving briefly their experience and ask-
ing for an interview. He sent in his note by another
usher—a younger man-and in a little while the answer
came, short but to the point:
“I have not the time to be interviewed before services,
but I am in entire accord with the action of the ushers in
this matter.
- RANDOLPH RUCKER.”
Stanley felt chagrined at this curt reply, but concluded
to sit and hear the style of gospel that was preached.
Soon the notes from the organ began to peal the doxol-
ogy. Shortly after in came the pastor and took his seat
in the pulpit. He was rather tall, with dark complexion,
heavy eyes, and features somewhat irregular. A critical
eye might have thought it discerned a trace of the
obnoxious blood in his veins. When he arose to speak,
his voice, deep and sonorous, gave Stanley the impression
that he was an orator of uncommon power. He read as
the preliminary lesson the thirteenth chapter of the First
Corinthians, also the chapter from which he afterwards
took his text. This reading of the chapters with singing
and prayer, concluded the opening services, and he arose
to preach.


312
CHAPTER XX.
“ The spirit and the bride say, come; and let him
that heareth say, come. And let him that is
athirst come, and whosoever will let him take of
the waters of life freely.”—Revelations xxii., 17.
Stanley was now all attention.
“I wish,” began the minister, “ to call your attention
to the latter part of the verse read, from which I take my
text this morning, whosoever will, let him take of the
water of life freely,' to illustrate the charity of God. Look
wherever we will, in whatever condition we find ourselves,
we cannot escape the conclusion that God has dealt with
a generous lavish hand with his people. Every "jot and
tittle' of nature bespeaks His unbounded love to man.
Moreover, He counted it not loss, but sent His only begot-
ten Son that we, who had forfeited our claim on an eternal
inheritance, might be again restored to our estate. From
the eternity of existence redemption was planned for us.
The word that was in the beginning, which afterwards
became flesh to dwell among men, is a part of the great
plan of salvation of the God who had all to give, and yet
who requires so little in return. The whole history of His
chosen people from the selection of Abraham to the
destruction of Jerusalem is a constant series of man's
rebellious acts, and of the charitable dealings of God with
their weaknesses; of the loving Father, of the stern Parent,
who made them pass through great vicissitudes of fortune,
captivity and perils, only that they might be brought back
to bear testimony to His goodness and love, and enable
them to reject the false gods and teachings which had


314
.
came the promise of one who should restore all things..
He came, He spake as never man spake. He suffered in.
Gethsemane under the weight of the sins of the world
which were heaped upon His head for our sakes until he
sweat great drops of blood. He was crucified for us, died
and arose again, bringing captivity captive in that those
who died in Christ shall be raised again at the last day
and shall stand with Him. He is now our advocate and
mediator with God. And lo, when the promised comforter
came on the day of Pentecost the tongues were for a time
restored and every man of the vast throng that had come
to the feast had the gospel preached to him in his own
tongue. This is the charity that suffereth long and is
patient. This is the universal love that saved to the utter-
most. The glad cry went forth that day and has been
ringing from thousands of people ever since. Whoso-
ever will, let him take of the water of life freely.'
“The Promised One had come, had accomplished His
purpose and sent the Comforter at the appointed time.
The day of Pentecost was but the beginning of the era of
restoration which will be consummated in the last day as
spoken of by John in his vision on the Isle of Patmos.
He tells us the result. Out of every Nation, and tongue,
and people there will be representatives singing the new
song, 'Hallelujah! To the Lamb who is worthy to receive
power, and glory, and riches, and wisdom, and strength
and honor;' and 'Blessings and honor, and glory, and
power, be unto Him who sitteth upon the throne and unto
the Lamb forever.'
“ Already the gospel missionaries are carrying the glad
tidings, inviting all nations and people to aspire for salva-
tion. Soon all nations and tongues will have the gospel
preached to them in their own land and tongue and all


315
will be brought together in a common worship looking for
the end of time. The Jew took a narrow view of Christ's
mission in the world. They believed He would re-estab-
lish the kingdom of Judea, and that Jerusalem would be
restored to its original splendor and precedence, and be
the mistress of the world. The good old Simeon, moved
by the inspirations of prophesy, saw the grander purposes
of God in the Emanuel. He expressed it when He said of
Jesus that He was a light of revelation to the Gentiles and
the glory of Israel. With prophetic eyes He saw in all the
ends of the earth those who should be called the children
of Abraham, because they heard and believed.
“Are you poor today? Are you sinful? Are you out-
casts? Have you nothing to offer to God? His chari-
table, loving sacrifice is for you; for the Spirit and the
Bride say, come. They who hear His words and have
found it precious, say, come. Will you, who are out of
Christ, come my friends? Oh, will you come?
“I wish to address myself to the members of my
church; those who are Christians. Are you following
after Christ as He has pointed out the way in His Holy
Book? Are you doing for others what He has done for
you? Do you treat the lowly and extend the helping hand
to the weak as you yourself would like to be treated were
you in their station? If you have not, begin now. There
is a continuity of principle in the grand qualities of char-
ity that reaches from God to His chosen people, and from
His chosen people to the sympathetic heart everywhere
that beats for humanity with its sorrows and woes. No
child of God should be isolated. If Christ be our elder
brother who shall deny us or whom shall we deny, or who
shall say that all are not of the brethren?
“One of the most pathetic scenes in the history of the


317
charity, it profiteth me nothing,' shall we gainsay it and
move and live and act as if heaven was made for us alone
and thus make of non-effect the invitation, Whosoever
will let him take of the water of life freely.'
“Unto all Nations must the gospel be preached, for
so the Savior did command, and to them is the invita-
tion extended. Come! Come! from the ends of the earth,
from the isles of the sea, from the inheritance of the
heathen, from the hovels of the poor. Salvation is without
price. It is as free as the air around us. It is more
precious than riches. It is more beautiful than nature in
its loveliest garb. It is the inspiration of the noblest
thoughts. Come! It is God's bounteous charity. Who
will take up the glad strain,
6 Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole?'
“Charity creates a generous feeling for all mankind,
takes away covetousness, ennobles the soul and blesses it.
The church must be filled with it. Individual Christians
must be imbued with it, else they do not live up to the
high standard of Christianity. We can deceive the world
by hollow pretenses, but we cannot God. If evil is in your
hearts, root it out. God is not mocked. Be not deceived,
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.'
* *
“The water of life; oh! how precious. Without cost
and without price. Oh! the beneficience of God. The
charity displayed to us poor creatures of the world. Do
you thirst for righteousness? Come! Take of it freely
and you shall find rest in your souls, and that peace that
comes with perfect content and trust in God. There is no
doubt of it now. There was a time when the cry went


319
CHAPTER XXI.
With a feeling akin to wonder as to the kind of gospel
that would be preached, Stanley had sat and listened
while, with a well modulated voice, the minister read St.
Paul's masterly commentary on charity. But while the
minister, with an almost divine eloquence, delivered his
sermon on the invitation of the Spirit and the Bride, he
could not help but think, “ Either his lips and heart are
at variance, or his moral judgment is sadly warped.” Of
what avail are there grand eloquent words about taking
the ragged, dirty and drunken from the gutter, when they
shut out those worthy and anxious to come for no other
reason than that they are as white as themselves?
Their acts are not in accord with these words: “Inas-
much as you have done it unto one of the least of these,
my children, ye have not done it unto me.” While the
minister was in the very height of his eloquence, Stanley
looked around to catch a glimpse of the usher and the
man who had so discourteously and so unchristianlike
refused his companion a seat, to see how they took the
words of the preacher. No sign of guilt or shame was
there, nothing but a passive calm. While he was almost
fascinated by the language of the speaker, his thoughts
could not help but dwell on the subject uppermost in his
mind. “ Are not,” thought he, “insults directed at the
colored people in these places of divine worship sure to
react? After all, was not all the ruin that was brought
upon the South, the desolation of its homes, due to the
domination of the teachings of the church here in relation


322
the morning, because he thought it would not be likely
that he would find in this part of the country any one
whose views would be near as liberal as his own. He had
come across many whose views were liberal but they were
passive in asserting them for fear of social ostracism, and
hence they allowed the ultra-minded to shape all senti-
ment.
The dinner party was such an enjoyable one and the
people made it so pleasant for him that he concluded to
extend his stay a few days longer. Among his new
acquaintances was the mayor of the city, who became quite
interested in him when he discovered that his father had
investments in that section. He also insisted that Stanley
should remain a few days longer. He afterwards dined
him, at which time Stanley enjoyed himself hugely. He
was now in the social swim and in no hurry to return
home. He was in the way of creating pleasant memories
of the South and the time passed swiftly and pleasantly.
Mr. Warner gave a reception for him at his elegant
home on — street, where he had the opportunity of
meeting many Southern beauties, none of whom he
thought compared with Marjorie. During the arrival of
the guests he occupied a place between Mr. Warner and
Mayor Gregory, and was introduced by the latter to the
guests as they came. Ho exerted himself to please with
great success. His good spirits overflowed; his wit
sparkled; he became a great favorite, and made many
friends and admirers. He had many invitations to call,
and hospitalities were offered him in case he should again
return to the city.
After the reception he thanked heaven that all South-
erners were not made of the same stuff. In this he was
mistaken. The people here shared the same views in


324
employment are less wide and be able to walk the streets
a free man, going whither I please; to places of public
entertainment, churches, opera houses, concerts and other
places of a public nature which are educators, as a man
among men. I had rather live where I can travel when I
please, unrestrained by obnoxious customs, and be able to
find a room at a public inn when I stop; where I can
obtain justice when my rights are transgressed, and where
I can stand no chance of being lynched or murdered for
exercising the rights of manhood.”
“But our home is here,” interposed one,“here were we
born, and around here are memories sacred and dear to us.
We cannot leave them. We bide our time. It will come
some day, some way. How? I don't know. Perhaps
misfortune may unite us.. Perhaps wrongs drive us into
one united revolt against the task masters. Perhaps the
government may in some way interfere. But here most of
us will stay until the time of our deliverance comes."
“In the great Northwest,” said Saunders, “are several
territories of vast extent, preparing for statehood. In
their borders are large tracts of unoccupied land belong-
ing to the government and to different railroads, that are
open for settlement. These places offer excellent oppor-
tunities for all to come and take up these lands. What is
required by the government to make your claim good on
its land and entitle you to a deed is that you work it for &
short term of years. Railroad land is to be had cheap; for
from about two to six dollars per acre. Beyond the moun-
tains the climate is excellent. Two crops are had per
year. It is never very cold and the temperature is about
that of Tennessee. All of the fruits grow there and the
soil is very fertile. Show the disposition to go there and
you will not lack friends to find the means to carry you


325
thither. The race in the North will make sacrifices. The
friends of the oppressed will give their aid. This side of
the mountains, in Montana, Idaho and Dakota, the climate
is more severe. In many of the states of the North there
is room for thousands. Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa,
Nebraska, Colorado and the northern part of Illinois,
Indiana and Ohio could absorb thousands. Michigan
could absorb and scatter throughout its vast extent over
50,000 without attracting notice. The farmers of the New
England states are leaving their farms and going west,
and, as a result, there are hundreds of good farms with no
tenants and some of these states are talking of offering
extra inducements in the way of loaning money to indus-
trious people to come and settle upon these farms.* In
the Northern countries the climate may be hard upon you
at first, but with such privations as come from cold, comes
the fact that you are free to enjoy the rights and privi-
leges of freemen, and that the qualities of manhood will
secure something like its proper recognition. You will
find good mixed schools for your children, and new homes
whose sanctity will not be invaded. I have heard people
say, 'get money and education and these conditions down
here will change. When this becomes universal, they
may, but now intelligence and wealth, and refinements
count for nothing. They who possess these things are
subject to the same treatment as others. I read the other
day of a rich intelligent woman who was forced to enter
the jim crow car, with its dirt and filth, upon a railroad of
which she held bonds. If they are self assertive or inter-
est themselves in politics actively they are warned. If
they are forcible in proclaiming their rights as citizens
for their life's sake, they must leave the country.”
* A company has been formed in Massachusetts whose object is to induce Afro-
American families to come to that state.


329
ете
. “I know that you feel better already,” said Stanley, as
he noticed his companion's keen interest in his surround-
ings.
“I certainly do. I think that I could live here."
After sauntering around awhile, they began to feel
quite tired and warm, for the sun's rays were very warm,
and they started for a shady spot near the entrance of the
park to rest. While going there Saunders' attention was
for a moment attracted in another direction to a beautiful
bed of roses. Intent upon this he did not observe a mid-
dle-aged man, who walked with a cane, approaching him
from an opposite direction. Being similarly engaged, and
before either had turned or noticed the other, they collided.
Not only was the collision a forcible one, but Saunders
stepped upon the other's pet corn. The result was sur-
prising. Colonel Grub, as he was called, whether from
services rendered or from the usual custom of bestowing
titles promiscuously throughout the South, is not known,
jumped about two feet into the air, and gave vent to words
that would certainly not improve the English language.
He was very fluent, and angry with pain he turned upon
Saunders, who was busy trying to apologize, with
“You sassy niggah,” he yelled, “I'll whale the life outer
you. How dare you run agin me?”
sYou must really excuse me, sir, it was unin—"
"Shut up! You black rascal. Don't dare to talk back
to me.”
He advanced on Saunders with uplifted cane. Before
Stanley could interfere, he had struck. Saunders warded
off the blow as best he could, and being a little angry at
the imperious manner and conduct of the Colonel, struck
him in return with his light rattan.
Several people noticing the affray rushed to the scene


330
and soon had the combatants apart. One of those who
came up after they were parted did not stop for a moment
until he had struck Saunders full in the face, felling him
to the ground, so unexpected and forcible was the blow.
As he struck, the man exclaimed: “You'll hit a white
man, will you?"
Saunders' blood was now thoroughly aroused, and gone
were his resolutions to abstain from scenes in which his
life might be endangered. As he fell his hand came in
contact with the colonel's cane which he had dropped in
the fracas, and although a little dazed, he picked it up and
used it industriously on his assailant and others who inter-
fered, until Stanley reached him and took it away from
him. By that time the collecting crowd had attracted the
attention of a policeman who came over, and at the insti-
gation of John's assailant, handcuffed him, Stanley's pro-
test being in vain. When Saunders was secured threats
began to be uttered in a low voice that increased in volume
as the crowd grew larger, and as others catching them up
repeated them, “ Kill him! “Lynch him!” was repeated
louder and oftener. As Stanley heard the cry the terrible
truth began to dawn upon him of the dangerous position
of his friend. He was in a strait betwixt two opinions.
He did not know whether to fly for help to Mr. Warner
and seek thus the interference of Mayor Gregory, or stay
to protect Saunders until he was safely confined.
On their way the crowd grew larger, the cries to lynch
and hang more ominous. Some a little bolder than others
approached so close that they struck him in his defence-
less position. Some spat on him and most of them acted
like the mean, mangy curs that they were. The officer
made no remonstrance. It would have been useless
against auch a crowd with its now large proportions.


331
Soon after, another policeman joined the one that had
John in charge, and they succeeded in keeping the crowd
back.
Stanley was doing all that he could to help them in
their efforts. He expostulated with the crowd and finding
this of no avail he called them cowards and curs for their
efforts to strike a defenseless man, but his words only
seemed to urge them on.
One overgrown boy threw a stone which hit Saunders
on the side of the face and cut it so that the blood spurted
out. In a frenzy of anger and pain he cried out, “If I had
my hands free, you cowards, I would teach you a lesson.”
“We'll teach you a lesson before morning," came back
an answer from the crowd.”
“Ther'll be a nice lynching bee, tonight,” said a
bystander, as the noisy procession passed.
Each moment the danger became more imminent, and
Stanley, now puffing and blowing, pushed his way along
with the crowd and kept as close to Saunders as possible
to shield him as much as he could from threatened
violence.
It was past noon and they were still a long distance
from a police station, and Stanley began to quarrel with
the officers for not using a conveyance which he offered to
pay for, so as not to expose Saunders to so much danger
and abuse. But they paid no heed to his requests.
Some one in the crowd, who had seen Saunders before
in his tour of the mines, and had seen him talking to some
of the colored laborers had found out that he was from the
North, imparted his intelligence to others. The informa-
tion lent fuel to flames already fanned to white heat.
“ He's a Northern nigger, been petted by the Yankees,
down with him,” was the cry, and the mob—a howling,


333
see home and Edith again, and from the fury of the mob
it seemed that his body would be so mutilated as to be
beyond recognition. How could he face Edith again with
the story of John's murder on his lips. The thought was
agonizing. If they could only reach shelter, he would
visit Mayor Gregory and have him use his influence in
saving him and putting him in safety. They would leave
the South with its damnable customs and prejudices for-
ever. All the good impressions made at the reception last
night were lost, and there was in his heart great bitter-
ness. He would pay a large sum if necessary to secure
Saunders' life. His anxiety over it was now aroused to
its highest tension.
They were making some headway, and every step
nearer to the goal aroused new hope in his breast. Sud-
denly a shout arose louder than the rest from the inter-
section of the street which they had just passed, and look-
ing in that direction he saw some men running up with a
rope. Hope fled. Saunders saw them also, and for the
first time the danger of his death by lynching at the hands
of a Southern mob flashed upon him. Was he, after all, to
be a martyr to their accursed prejudices. He regretted
that he had not used his revolver when he had the oppor-
tunity. Edith's misgivings rushed upon him. Her
appeals for him not to go at this time; he almost wished
that he had heeded. But, he glanced at Stanley, saw the
despair on his face, the race will gain a friend who will
leave no stone unturned in demanding justice for it.
The rope was passed from hand to hand, and with
eager grasp and shout the noose was passed along. “On
with it! Lasso him!” was the cry, and Saunders, unable
to ward off his danger, with a grim determined counte-
nance, watched the instrument of cruel death approach.


334
The mob goaded on by its frenzy of excitement, passion
and prejudices, acted like tigers thirsting for human blood.
Soon the rope was near, then the officers remonstrated.
“Down with them, then,” came an angry cry from the outer
edge of the circle. The mob, quick to obey in its frenzy,
attacked the police and in the melee the rope was slipped
over Saunders neck. “We've got him now,” yelled those
nearest to him and as many as could grasped hold of the
rope and began to pull. Again Saunders turned to Stan.
loy with a look that said a mute good bye, as the rope
tightened about his neck, and the crowd began to sway and
pull away. But there was no sign of reproach or fear on
his countenance. Stanley realized that something must
be done quickly or Saunders would be beyond all hope.
Making a superhuman effort he sprang to Saunders' side,
pulled out his knife and cut the rope in two, but not until
its cruel threads had cut deep into Saunders neck, tore his
flesh, almost choked him, and pulled him backward to
the ground. He was helped to his feet. His face and
neck were bloody, and the increased flow from his wounds
made his appearance look ghastly. His clothes were torn
and begrimed with dust and blood.
The police had been obliged to defend themselves and
had beaten back the crowd and were reforming. So also
was the mob. The cut rope was again being brought for-
ward with a new noose in it. To Stanley's despair was
now added exhaustion. He could not stand much longer
between Saunders and his assailants. Besides his efforts
to protect him, had drawn upon himself the attention of
the crowd, and he too, became the object of cries and mis-
siles. His own life was in danger. He saw his own peril
and thoughts of home, friends and Marjorie came to him.
He vowed if ever he came out of that affair his energies
should be devoted to doing something that would correct
this state of things that annually costs so many hundreds
of lives. He would try to create an opinion that would
grow so strong as to demand the enforcement of justice.


337
said: “I am proud to see and talk with a man in this sec-
tion who possesses thoughts contrary to the general
opinion, and who realizes the effects such acts will lead to.
If you can only save my friend, who has been more faith-
ful to me than a brother, I shall never be able to repay you..
You cannot tell what feelings of apprehension and grief
are now gnawing at my heart, caused by seeing the objects
of my affection and regard torn from me one by one.
First, by the inexorable fate of a disordered life, but that
being caused by my own action must be borne patiently."
His voice fell as he spoke the last words, and he paused
for a moment as in reflection. “Now by the relentless
fury of a mob I have seen with my own eyes a constant
friend, who would have laid down his life for me, torn and
mercilessly lacerated by all manner of violence, and I
powerless to help him. When the helpless victims of that
steamboat disaster went down in the fire-lit waters of the
Mississippi, and their last despairing cry of help went up as
they sank to rise no more, those on the bank, standing
impotent to render aid, felt a poignant grief that could
not find utterance. So stand I now with my heart wrung
by so great anxiety and grief that I cannot give it utter-
ance. But theirs was a more merciful fate than that
which threatens Saunders. I would a thousand times
rather have seen him engulfed in the waters of the Missis-
sippi than to be lynched by this brutal rabble and be a
helpless spectator. The dark waters, swallowing up the
objects of our affections, is unconscious of its deeds. In
its onward flow it leaves no bitterness against itself. It
even returns again in refreshing showers to nourish the
flowers that tender memories have planted. Cruel fires
may blast and burn the house, but it cheers and warms it
in its turn. But what of the irreparable wrongs of men


342
“I am extremely thankful, Mayor Gregory," he said,
moved by his consideration for his companion, “not so
much for your proffers of aid now, but for the kindnesses
which you have shown me and your timely rescue today.
Your appearance was as glad a welcome as ever a sail was
to famishing souls at sea. But I cannot help sympathiz-
ing with my friend, and exhibiting my surprise and dis-
gust that the good people here don't arise in their strength
and put an end to such outbursts of outlawry that bring
disgrace upon them. If father ever invests another cent
here in the South, he will do it against my advice.”
“Be careful, Mr. Stanley," said Mr. Warner,“ don't
say in an extremity of feeling what you will be sorry for
when this danger is averted. Besides we are talking of
that which is of the least importance in this issue. This boy
should at once have the doctor's care, and we must get him
out of the city before night, sure, to avoid your anxiety."
Stanley saw the wisdom of these remarks and refrained
from further comment. A doctor was sent for who
dressed Saunders’ wounds. The bloody clothes were
exchanged for clean ones and he was prepared for flight.
A number of people whom Stanley had met during his
stay, hearing of his misfortune, had interested themselves
in his behalf. A few came and offered their services
which were accepted. Together they formed a plan. A
closed carriage was to be driven to the rear of the jail, while
Stanley, Mr. Warner and Mayor Gregory went to the
front where the crowd, which was all the time increasing
in numbers, would be sure to congregate. Then Saunders
was to be slipped out of the back door and driven to a
small station on the Louisville and Nashville road,
where he could take the train to Nashville. There
he was to wait until Stanley joined him. Mr. James, a
business partner of Mr. Warner's, and an admirer of Stan-
ley's, volunteered to accompany him a safe distance. The
plan seemed to be a simple one, and likely to be successful
in getting Saunders safely out of the city without further
trouble. It was now dusk and they proceeded at once to


343
carry their plan into action. Stanley and his friends
lingered in front, in their attempt to divert the attention
of the crowd, while the cab which had been secured drove
up to the rear entrance, where Mr. James and Saunders
entered it. They drove slowly at first for fear that their
rapid driving would arouse suspicion. When Stanley and
his friends were assured that all was carried out according
to the plan agreed upon, they entered Mr. Warner's car-
riage and drove to his home. Ere they had entered the
house they heard such yells and shouting in the direction
of the jail that the fears of Stanley again arose and he
proposed that they drive back. '.
“Nonsense,” replied the mayor, "you are full of
alarms. Your servant is now probably far away, and they
are howling because they have learned of his escape.
Nothing serious has happened, and if the mob is again
formed, I have left orders that I should be notified at
once. If necessary the militia will be ordered out, as I
have left word for them to prepare for trouble. I think I
made a mistake in not calling them out at first and having
them patrol around the jail."
The confusion and the babel of voices in the distance
grew more ominous as he spoke which caused him to lis-
ten. Before any one spoke again the clatter of horses'
hoofs were heard as if running at great speed, and the
form of a horse and rider, barely visible by reason of the
distance and dust, told them that some news of importance
was at hand.
“I knew it! I knew it!” exclaimed Stanley. “Those
hounds are at it again."
The rider gave them startling information. The flight
had been discovered and they were being hotly pursued
and perhaps overtaken by now.
"For God's sake,” cried Stanley, “let us hurry."
The team had been almost unbitched, but the hostler
was required to regear it with all possible haste. Stanley,
however, impatient of delay, had started to run on foot to
where the sounds came from, and was only restrained by
force, until the carriage could be again got ready.


348
their designs. Then the mob showed its generalship, for
while some opposed, with a show of force, the police,
others, with Saunders, escaped in another direction.
Many of them had now become wild and reckless and
began firing in an indiscrimnate manner as they ran on.
Saunders was nearly dead when the mob's leaders halted
under a large tree and stopped a moment for consultation.
But there was only a little delay, then taking the rope
from his body they threw it across a limb of the tree, then
adjusting the loop around his neck-yelling, shouting and
firing—they started to pull on it. He had scarcely been
raised from the ground when the rapid measured tread of
feet was heard and a horseman wildly dashed into their
midst and cut the rope from about his neck. This act was.
followed by a command from Mayor Gregory to the mob
to disperse. It was stubborn, however, and showed fight,
but upon the command to fix and charge bayonets it
turned tail, but not before one of its leaders had turned
and emptied part of the contents of a revolver into Saun-
ders' body while he lay in Stanley's arms.
Shrieking and uttering cat-calls the mob fled. The
streets were cleared by the military company. The better
classes had already retired indoors, particulary the timid
and the Afro-Americans of the city. The fow prisoners
at the jail, most of whom were Afro-Americans, alarmed
at the cries and fearing an assault upon the jail, crawled
in terror under the cots in their cells. Dark were the
houses and cabins where that race resided and more than
one heart beat with anxious terror when the mob was at
its height, and when cursing and yelling at being balked
of the final consummation intended for its prey, it sought
for other objects to destroy.


350
pain that flashed over Stanley's countenance, and fearing
that he might blame himself for the accidents of the day,
continued: “Don't blame yourself for this. You could
not foresee the incidents of this terrible day. Rather blame
the customs and prejudices of this people under which
they have been raised.” Then the soul of this sincere
patriot flashed forth in “Oh, my country! What scenes
of carnage and strife, of woe and sorrow, will take place if
these unworthy ideas and wild passions are allowed to hold
such full sway. Dear friend, I leave you with a mission
which by temperament, and by your ideas of justice, you
are eminently fitted to fulfill. Stir up and create a public
opinion and cease not, until it is so aroused that justice,
waking from her long sleep, will demand equal protection
and liberty, for all citizens of the Republic. God will be
with you. In naming you Seth, Hebrew for appointed,
your parents must have been inspired, for you are
APPOINTED by God, through me—the dying—to aid in
clearing our country from its false ideas. You accept the
trust?"
“Yes, yes. I accept and will labor earnestly."
“Then may good come of my death,” said Saunders
feebly. "Such pain is here.” He stopped, groaned, closed
his eyes, but to Stanley's infinite relief, he opened them
again and whispered, “When you return, seek out Miss
Stone, such a heart as yours should have its recompense."
Stanley's grief was beyond the outward manifestation
of tears and visible emotions. Grief was gnawing at his
heart and the fever in his body parched up the tears.
His eyes showed the tenderness he felt for his friend, and
the great pain at his sudden and violent taking off. Saun-
ders' was rapidly failing. His breathing was difficult.
He commenced to gasp for breath.


351
“Seth,” he whispered, “are you near? We were
friends in life, and I want you to be near me as I pass over
to the other side.”
“Yes, John, I am here,” and Stanley bent lower.
“ Have my remains taken home, and let me lay along-
side my mother in beautiful Elmwood. You will come
there sometimes and bring her with you, wont you? I was
father's chief support; how he will miss me.”
“I will look after him," said Stanley. “ You must not
die, John, for their sakes, for mine, live. We cannot spare
you." But the warm blood that had now found the way
to his knee, and which had already formed a puddle at
Saunders' feet, told him that the inevitable could not be
staid. Saunders made a feeble effort to move, but could
not. For a moment his mind seemed to wander, then he
whispered:
"Oh, Edith, what happiness had I dreamed of with
you. Poor heart, how she will suffer. Try to comfort
her, Seth. Tell her I thought of her to the last and
breathed a blessing for her. Tell her not to grieve; to for-
give those who have caused my death, as I do. Their own
sins will have their fitting retribution.” He then became
silent, his breathing more difficult. The sands of life were
fast ebbing away. A noble soul was preparing to leave
the earth to dwell with Him who said: “In my Father's
house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for
you.” His life had been one of unselfish devotion to fam.
ily and friends, and all his plans teemed with noble
thoughts and grand ideas for the uplifting of his race.
Once again he opened his eyes. The film of death had
already commenced to cover them. “ Seth, don't blame
yourself; good bye,” was uttered in a feeble whisper.
Then his spirit filed.


352
Stanley knew that he was dead, but still held his body
while he looked straight ahead in the direction taken by
the mob. But not of them was he thinking. He saw the
home that would see his friend no more, saw its desola-
tion and its grief, saw Edith coming and demanding of
him the life that was lost to her. Oblivious to surround-
ings, to friends, he sat in silent thought until Mr. Warner,
noticing his abstraction, with uncovered head, approached
and touching him on the shoulder, aroused him and said:
"Mr. Stanley, I am deeply grieved at what has hap-
pened and at the wild license of the mob, and the terrible
manner in which your friend has met his death. But this
is no place to stay; come, let us go home where you can
have rest and quiet.”
“Not until his remains are placed in charge of an
embalmer,” replied Stanley. “Although dead he is mine
yet; mine while life remains to honor and to cherish his
memory. Here on bended knees in the presence of God
and the sacred dead, I swear it.”
Those who clustered about were moved by the touch-
ing scene and all removed their hats, some turning away
as they could not bear to witness his distress.
Tenderly he stroked the features of the dead and with
his handkerchief he wiped away the dirt and blood that
covered his bruised face. Then he stood up and by a
great effort mastered his feelings and spoke to those
around him. His voice was calm, oh, so calm, that it
struck a chill to their very hearts.
“Here lies another victim to your section's violence.
This body possessed a soul, untainted by baser metals. A
soul so noble, that in its last breath here, it did not curse
this country and pray for revenge upon his murderers,
and it is not for me, much as I loved him to do that which


356
did not appear they broke in the door, finding him, hauled
him out from under the bed and placing a rope around his
í neck pulled him out into the street.
In this manner he was dragged several blocks, his
tongue hanging out and his eyes almost starting from their
sockets, until they halted by a sign lamp-post. His hands
were then pinioned behind him and a rope placed in posi-
tion. “Hang him," came the cry from all sides. The
few people on the street, not of the mob, viewed the pro.
ceedings with silence. It was only a nigger. Humanity
did not appeal to their hearts or inspire them to protest
against the outrage. The victim begged for time to
pray. “Let him pray if he wants to,” said one. “Pray
be d-d,” cried several. “Hang him before the police
interfere.” The instigator of this additional crime to the
night's terrible work stepped forward and said: “The
police will not interfere with this case. The Northern
darkey had a white man interested in him who was rich,
and who intended to make some investments down here.
They had a motive for interference.” Then he turned to
the victim and said: “In two minutes you will be in eter-
nity. Make your prayer short and be lively.”
The doomed man dropped to his knees and began aloud
a rambling petition, partly to his Maker and partly to the
mob, while his executioners stood by and called off the
half minutes. An ashy pallor covered his face as he
crawled on the ground and made piteous appeals for
mercy, for life. Two minutes seemed a long time to some
of his tormentors, one of whom kicked him brutally in the
side as he lay grovelling and warned him to hurry up.
Pain and terror overcame the victim's reason as he
cried aloud for mercy. Cries of “Hang him! Hang him!”
again went up. The word was given and in an instant he


359
got up and walked the room in the effort to shake off the
effects of the dreadful feeling that had seized upon him.
Again he lay down and tried to sleep; this time there rose up
before him the forms of John's father, his brother, sisters,
and his sweetheart Edith, all demanding of him an account
for the life of the murdered man. The looks of reproach
they cast upon him, more severe than words of denuncia-
tion, pierced him to the heart. “No! No! No! Not that,"
he cried. “My burden is heavy enough already, but do
not look so reproachfully.” Then a mist seemed to arise
between them that gradually assumed the shape of Saun-
ders, and he exclaimed: “There! He is not dead after
all. See! I have brought him back to you.” The great
stress that he was under in this dream again awoke him,
and so until morning his sleep was disturbed and haunted.
In the morning he presented a haggard appearance when
some of his new made friends called upon him to deplore
the action of the previous night, and to extend sympathy
and help. They hoped that he would not lay the disgrace-
ful scenes of yesterday to the better class of the people
South, as they were using every effort to stamp out such
disorder.
Said Mayor Gregory in extenuation: “We had at one
time to adopt severe measures to make the Negroes know
their place; the spirit we encouraged then has become
emboldened, is at times even beyond our control, and con-
spires to bring disgrace upon us."
Said another: “The Negroes are ignorant, incapable
of education and most of them are vicious. I assure you we
were justified in cowing them, although I am sorry for the
occurrence of yesterday.”
These condolences and explanations did not right
Stanley's outraged feelings, nor lessen one whit the pangs


361
and whites are engaged, which made Saunders the aggres-
sor. A sassy nigger who grossly insulted an old soldier, and
that his life paid the forfeit at the hands of a large num-
ber of our best citizens who were enraged at his insults.
Thinking that perhaps the Associated Press report might
be likewise garbled he gave a clear concise record of the
events that finally cost the life of his friend. Because of
the kindly interest Marjorie Stone had taken in his
friend's welfare, he considered the circumstance of his
death sufficiently strong enough to break the silence between
them. The letters written, he settled back in his chair to
think more calmly of his affairs and plan his future action.
As he recalled the mayor's efforts in Saunders' behalf, he
felt half remorseful that he had answered him so sharply
at the morning interview. Despite the views held by him,
he felt that he owed him an apology. He commenced to
write one, thinking as he did so of a quotation that Saun-
ders and he had often read during his own sickness:
“ Common souls pay with what they do. Nobler souls
with what they are.” So he thanked all concerned for
their kindly interests.


363
with heavy heart he dreaded the coming and sometimes he
sighed
“For a long, long sleep, with never a dream,
Nor even one passing thought
Of life with its care and sadness.”
until the trials were over and the things he so dreaded
had passed.
The letters sent home by him containing the news of
the sad misfortune fell like heavy blows upon Saunders'
family. The aged father was grief stricken and wailed
over the loss of his son. When Edith knew of it she went
to him and when they met, heart-broken, the old man
exclaimed: “Edith! Edith! It is true; it is true.” She
fell upon his neck, and they wept together over their
mutual loss. Tears are a relief to overburdened souls.
Bewailing their misfortunes we will leave them, for the
pen of man can not portray the deep emotions and strong
affections of the heart; the severe pangs and heartaches,
beside, their grief is sacred. Their different friends came
to condole with them when they heard the sad news, for
the relation that Saunders and Edith bore to one another
was well known.
Quite a number of the friends of Stanley and of the
deceased awaited the train as it came in. There was a
tone of sadness in their anxious inquiries, as with a warm
grasp they shook Stanley's hand and inquired about his
own injuries. His father, too, was there with a heart full
of pity, indignation and sorrow, at the manner in which a
faithful employe had come to an untimely end. Saunders'
remains were taken to his home, where his heart-broken
father fell upon the bier and refused to be moved or
comforted. His sobs of anguish that shook his whole
frame caused the tears to stand in more eyes than one.


366
light in her eyes made him think that he was expected.
There was a natural reserve at first of which each was con-
scious, and traced to its proper source. Another draw-
back was the presence of Maxwell, who was surprised to
see Stanley and that she lavished so much attention upon
him. With that keen perception possessed by those that
love, and find that their love is not returned, he could
read in every look, in every expression of her countenance,
the assurance that she loved, aye, almost idolized Stanley.
He would have given all that he was worth to have been the
recipient of those looks. So well had their own council been
kept that he never was able to find out what had kept
them apart.
Until the conversation drifted to Stanley's experiences
South, it was somewhat tame and spiritless. Before he
commenced to recount them, Mr. and Mrs. Stone, who
were as curious as their daughter, entered the parlors.
Commencing with the first rebuff at New Orleans to the
lynching of Saunders, he told his story in a simple way.
Unconsciously as he proceeded his eyes gleamed, and his
cheeks reddened with the excitement of going again
through the terrible ordeals. Never did an Othello charm
a Desdemona more completely than did he with his fervid
simplicity, charm Marjorie. She watched every gesture,
drank in every word, and allowed full rein to her feelings,
rejoicing or sorrowing as he depicted his feelings in the
course of his story.
Mr. Stone was deeply interested in his recital and his
opinion of Stanley was somewhat elevated. He was so
agreeably disappointed to see his earnestness that he
thought: “He is a far nobler fellow than I thought he
was.” When Stanley concluded, he said, “I don't see how
some people can go South, and come back and speak so


368
ties, are moved by like impulses and feelings. Under like
conditions who can say who would lead or who would lag.
The end of the civil war completed a cycle in our national
growth. It witnessed the freedom of the individual. We
are now in another cycle that will be completed only when
our national life is free to all its citizens in all its various
branches."
Your conquest is won Seth Stanley. You need never
more doubt the result of waiting. Do you see that fair
girl? How eagerly she hangs on every word, and how
her eyes sparkle? The man freed from his follies has
conquered. Nobility of soul has won.
The rest of the evening passed quickly and pleasantly.
When he rose to go Marjorie escorted him to the door,
and as he bade her goodnight she said: “I am so glad you
called. I have enjoyed the evening more than I have
since—” here she paused to think. He was looking at her
cast hers to the ground. “Come, again,” said she, after a
pause, and gave him such a look that all the old passion
that had partly lay dormant since their forced estrange-
ment returned with redoubled force, and he was no weakly
creature that moved and felt by halves. The touch of the
hand that lay in his sent the blood rushing furiously
through his veins. The time was not now he thought to
himself to open up the question of love again, so bidding
her good night and promising to call again he departed,
his whole soul being filled with ecstacy.
His calls were oft repeated.
He had not been home long before his friends, Parker,
Morgan and Fox called upon him and soon everything was
going along in the same old way, save that the earnest


369
God-fearing man had taken the place of the frivolous
youth. '
A year has passed. The fears entertained by Saunders,
of which he wrote to Edith Darrow from B- , have been
verified. The election of '88 seemed to embitter old
antagonisms, and the outrages and crimes against Afro-
Americans and white men who dare run counter to the
popular feeling have increased. Hundreds have died and
their blood is calling for justice. Roused at last the Afro-
American is about to take steps looking for relief. Popu-
lar sentiment among all true Americans is taking up their
cause, and no little part of it is due to Seth Stanley. Not
so strong has it been, in favor of justice, agitated over the
Southern race question since the few years before the war,
when it so strongly condemned slavery.
Edith Darrow still wears her badge of mourning, and
like a ministering angel is ever to be found doing good,
and exerting all her power to raise the standard among the
masses of the poorer classes of the Afro-Americans, and in
inculcating in them the virtue of self-reliance. It is said
that she contemplates going to Alabama to teach, where
her influence and gentle manners, glowing from her per-
son like an invisible stream, will have greater opportunity
and wider scope. She will never marry, she was too
strongly attached to John Saunders and loved him too
deeply to ever give to another the love that should accom-
pany plighted faith. With the Stanley's, for Seth and
Marjorie were married in the Spring, she is on intimate
terms of friendship and is ably seconded by them in all
her work.
Morgan has not yet entered business. Fox is prepar-
ing to enter the ministry. Parker is still the same kind.


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