NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES ||| | O7605440 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - F- - - - - - Eߺ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - | The New York Public Library + ºr The Merle Johnson Collection 1935 ge- º Nºvº Jº/3. Dup. to sº 4. * Be Kept ^. MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL A ND OTHER S TO RI ES By O. HENRY'S GHOST I. M. Y. COMPANY NEW YORK l, f 1918 Tºw York públic LIBRARY TILDEN FOU R 1937 1. Copyright, 1918, by I. M. Y. Company - - - - - * - - - - - - - * * * - - - * - ~ * - - - - - * . . . * * * - - - - * * * - - - - ** - - - - * - -- - * - - - * * * * * * * - - - - - - - - * - - - - Ühe Warrage 3ire FEEL I cannot give O. Henry's Ghost better am- munition with which to meet his critics than a bit of truth voiced by Joan in one of Algernon Blackwood’s wonderful books. “The beloved dead step nearer when their bodies drop aside. They know where they are and what they are doing. It's not for us to worry —in that way. And they are out of hours and minutes.” To meet the onslaught of you, Mr. Scoffer and Mr. Skeptic, who will say, “Impossible! They are not a bit like O. Henry's stories! They lack all his virility, etc., etc.” I say at once, of course they are different! Where before his stories were written in the bold black and red of human passions, which belong to materiality, 3 THE BARRAGE FIRE 5 Because the spirit known as O. Henry came before the curtain on this particular stage in the garb of heavy woolen materiality, thundering vivid, scarlet tales, is no reason why, having made his exit, after playing out his role,_he should not return in a dif- ferent characterization and in chiffon garb. If he is not recognized in the new one upon his entrance it is no evi- dence that the same spirit does not animate both, and the perfection of detail and artistry in both characteri- zations is convincing proof of the same dominant spirit. While the stories necessarily re- flect in their style the high aspira- tion that prompted them, they prove, as O. Henry's Ghost so vividly re- marked, that a leopard can change its spots. Flashes of the O. Henry who wrote “The Man About Town” are found 6 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL in the bits of personal conversation from O. Henry's Ghost, and the old and new are blended in the following birthday greeting: “I give you my gladsome wish for a comrade and gratitude for opening the doors to a scrivener. If it was the olden days I should have been foolish enough to say ‘Have a drink to celebrate.’ Now I shall tell you to take a whiff of ambrosia fit for gods and shall join you with a gladsome spirit. Here’s how !” The sledge hammer blows wielded by the personality of O. Henry can only dull to insensibility and bring forth a murmur of “I think” and “I believe,” while the darting shafts of O. Henry's Ghost will pierce the clouds and bring forth the chorus of “I know” to those who, having eyes —see—and having ears—hear! It is today the same as when Plato said: THE BARRAGE FIRE 7 “Strange times are these in which we live, forsooth : When old and young are taught in Falsehood's School And the one man who dares to tell the Truth Is called at once a “Lunatic' and ‘Fool.’” But at any rate, they go forth at the request of O. Henry's Ghost and with the belief that the beauty of thought will be a joyful remembrance of one who was known as O. Henry. PARMA. June 27th, 1918. 158 Ocean Boulevard, Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey. Contents Comments . Over There Foreword - - - - - My TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL THE CONTEST . SLEEPING YEARNING ANIMALS- Weariness— I. The King . II. The Toiler The Slave . FLOWERs— Missionaries . JEweLS— Multitudes REMEMBRANCES MUNITIONS . GoING HoME MY HEARTH THE THREE H's . THE SENSES 13 37 41 57 67 75 87 91 . 101 ... 107 . 113 . 119 . 127 . 135 . 143 . 161 10 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL FANCIES- Fancies Trusting Thoughts . Thinking YESTERDAY-ToDAY . ACTION.—REACTION . A VISION . 167 . 170 . 171 . 172 . 177 . 189 . 195 Comments 14 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL ment we followed with intense inter- est, and to whose advice in critical moments we owe much. This was the situation when early in September, 1917, we were told that if we would sit at the “Board” each afternoon about four-thirty o’clock, with a positive determination to re- ceive only that which was worth while, and shut the door at once to anyone whose offerings did not reach a high standard, we would receive things that would surprise us. Accordingly, on September 18, 1917, we waited results—they came as follows: “My little talent I suppose you will consider insufficient.” “Who are you?” we asked. “Useless to give name,” came the answer. “If you do not know when the story is finished, it is N. G.” “I wish to tell the world what is theirs for the asking. To try and COMMENTS 15 give them a new viewpoint in place of their erroneous ideas.” “I did not know as much then as I do now. Before I wrote what the Self saw only—now it is what I know.” “We'll take a chance—go ahead,” I said. Then followed a story called “The Contest.” How do we know it was the spirit of O. Henry? We will let the rec- ord speak for itself. The truth al- ways carries conviction, except to minds the doors of which are double- barred. It was evidently the first time this Spirit had used a Ouija Board, for he was not sure of the location of the letters, and after the first para- graph said: “My force is insufficient; it tires me to spell each word so slowly.” We told him to go as fast as he COMMENTS 17 eral days, O. Henry's Ghost began with: “I am glad to see you.” “Did you miss us?” “That’s what!” was the answer. The day was rainy and the story rather serious, or so it impressed us, for we asked: “Why don’t you give us a cheer- ful story?” His reply silenced further sugges- tions. It was: “Kindly allow me to express what I feel.” O. Henry's individuality was clearly marked from the first and we had no doubt about his genuineness, but an incident which occurred one afternoon may serve to convince the skeptical. Several times we had been both- ered by the interruptions of a boy Spirit called William Mumm, who was possessed with an over-developed 18 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL sense of humor. Often we knew that O. Henry was being crowded by others who thought that they should be given a chance to express them- selves, and once or twice the writing stopped until things quieted down. On this occasion Mumm broke in with, “Henry is giving too many or- ders.” - On being told in a forceful way what we thought of his interference, he said, “My word! That was a hot shot! I won't butt in again:”—and he didn’t. Later, when we asked O. Henry whether others were present, he said, “They are hanging around, but not butting in.” As we got better acquainted, there was more conversation of a personal nature before the story for the day was started. To the question whether before he “crossed over” he had had any real Truth, he said: 20 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL To our usual question “who is with us?” came the answer: “I was called Henry.” A glimpse into conditions on the “other side” was given when we asked O. Henry whether he had found a friend of whose “passing over” we had told him. “No,” he replied; “I have not found him. He must be resting, and we make it a point never to disturb, for the rest periods are of the most importance and hasten growth. I shall watch for him when he makes his mansion.” “What do you mean by that?” we asked. “In the beginning of life here we make little progress—unless knowl- edge of the Truth has been ours be- fore coming over. That is why it is so necessary to learn before leaving the Earth Sphere. Without that one must wander aimlessly or rest COMMENTS 21 and gaze at things of the past—and our associates are other unfortunates who have had closed ears before leav- ing. “When one has reviewed a certain number of lives—or generally a se- quence of events—then comes a ten- der friend who points out advantage- ous work and study, and which, if followed, always means the beginning of progress and growth. It is only after that has been made use of that we begin our mansion or abiding place. “Keep it always in your mind, the foundation stones are Knowledge, Wisdom, Power—and then it is built by the thought and desire of Aspira- tion, Beauty and Love. “I want to impress upon you and all mankind the necessity of ‘Know- ing,’ and, what is more to the point, ‘Believing.’ “If you will lend me your pencil, 22 My TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL most generous person, I may be able to say all I want. Now it seems as if I never would be able to get rid of it all. “If you would publish a magazine it would be a ‘hummer.” The trouble is, there is no periodical which has any one back of it who KNOWS. They all prattle and the almighty dol- lar is the main thing. Truth would bring them faster than anything if they would only believe it. Let’s work it out! It would be great! Now to work, if you don't mind. “In a sunny nook by a babbling brook I have built my mansion.” O. Henry was very enthusiastic over the idea of a magazine. Refer- ring to it again, he said, “Call it the Sphina.” Get at it at once. Have it contain only tales which teach, and Wisdom.” Once when he talked on until late in the evening, and we became tired, 24 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL With that he redictated the last half of the story, changing it com- pletely and to the satisfaction of all. With his next story we were par- ticularly pleased, and on our saying so, he said: ‘I thank you and am glad you really like it. Have to watch my P's and Q’s now or I will lose my publisher. It is great to be compelled to do one’s best. It means the continuation of aspiration. Lying Spirits do not aspire. Having publishers who will accept nothing but the truth and only the best one is capable of is a bit of a novelty. Pity there are not more of them for material, as well as spir- itual fiction. You might get Hoover to add that plan for conservation of paper and ink. If we over here had more publishers like you there would be more truth spread broadcast. The trouble is most of the offices accept anything, just so it has a name at- tached. COMMENTS 25 “What’s in a name?—Nothing.” “What's in a Truth?—Every- thing.” Unless the Spirit moving the indi- cator on the board is an advanced soul, having great power, he usually draws from the persons he is work- ing through. This O. Henry was at times forced to do, and so we under- stood, when one day, instead of start- ing a story he said: “Your teacher says you hesitate to tell when you are tired. Better to have a perfect pen for two lines, than none at all for twenty. Tell me the moment you become fatigued. There is time for the lot. If you are de- pleted through my coming, it will be curtailed, if not stopped, and that would be too dreadful! Much better a half a loaf at a time than none at all. Please tell me. Your teacher thinks you have sufficient without what I am dictating, but feels that it 26 MY TUSSLE with THE DEVIL is worth while providing you are not in any way injured by the work. I so want to have the opportunity. Do, kind person, tell me and let us go slower. Last night I chattered; no reason for it at all, except the pleas- ure of doing it, and you were tired, the teacher says, before I began.” We agreed to be more careful, and O. Henry said: “That’s a bargain.” In speaking of the many plots crowding his mind and which he wanted to express, he said: “Riches are a burden at times. I wish to rid myself of them. Quick returns will follow. With much ma- terial off my mind I shall be able to develop much, more worth while. Hurry! Life takes up so many hours.” Before starting a series of stories of a different nature from those given first, he said: COMMENTS 27 “My wish is to widen the horizon. It is important for humanity to know. It must recognise the oneness of everything. We will write of more than man. I will give a series. First Beasts—then Flowers and Jewels.” When these stories were completed, everything seemed to conspire to pre- vent the devoting of a quiet hour to O. Henry and his stories. Whenever constructive work is done, by which the Truth may be brought to many, the forces of destruction are arrayed in opposition. This we felt to the full. Twice stories were started and stopped after only a few paragraphs had been written. In one it was evi- dent that O. Henry had been pushed aside and a complete sentence injected by some “Power of Darkness.” We at once realized the situation and put the “Board” away. When next O. Henry came, he said: 28 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL “The time has been long. Why keep the Muse silent? I am simply overburdened with plots.” When asked the cause of the breaks in the last story he said: “I find there are still a number of people who believe they know better how to write my stories than I do. This last time it was “Fiends.’ It is important you keep the door closed by demanding you receive only the truth—for that prevents their taking definite hold.” About this time there appeared in the papers notices of moving pictures made from the O. Henry stories. We asked him what he thought of them, and his answer, concise as usual, WaS : “Foolish rehash of yesterday's ignorance.” In commenting on how few be- lieved and how difficult it would be to find a publisher, O. Henry answered: COMMENTS 29 “My belief is you will have to do it yourself ultimately, if you cannot find some one who is independent. The trouble is that in a concern, one may believe, while the rest of the company do not yet see.” The conditions of everyday life be- came worse. We were able to snatch only a few minutes with O. Henry and asked him if he felt the confu- sion. “It is a regular whirlpool, he said; the boat rocks. Until you can have quiet I think it would be wiser to postpone trying to write. My wish is added to yours, for if all disturb- ance is eliminated we can then accom- plish a great deal without effort.” On New Year's eve we received greetings from those with whom we had been closely associated in work, and last of all came O. Henry. He said: “I do not belong, but I may come to the party, may I not? 30 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL “I am content to wait until it will be only a pleasure to hold converse and when we can relaar to a real con- fab. “They are good stories, if I do say it—but they cannot believe in a leop- ard changing his spots. Out upon that spot! - “An amazing thing that the stolid English are more awake spiritually than Americans, who have not yet been touched vitally. Some day they will awake and arise—and I hope then I can take part in the pro- cession. “My greetings and all aid possible for the year to come.” Several weeks later he said: “This is the first opportunity I have had to hold ‘mind’ with you. “Interesting expression that, when one realizes how true it is that mind is the only real point of contact, al- though when on your plane we speak COMMENTS 31 only of the physical nearness of others. “Is it true that the hour is to be re-established? If that is the case, we ought to turn out something worth while.” On being told that the poem, “Sleeping,” which he had given us, was to be read to the Poetry Society, it seemed to appeal to his sense of humor, for he said: “If I was not to all appearances dead, that would be my death. I shall have a fearful attack of stage-fright. I do hope they won't call ‘Authorſ’ “I like this house. It is so restful and harmonious. It is a smiling island of loveliness in a black sea of pitch. I shall stretch here at ease tonight and rest and live happily.” A. HoughTON PRATT. “@ber Oſijere” O. Henry's Ghost Answers the Ques- tions of a Newspaper Man Re- garding “Over There” sº he desires to know how §§§ we folks live? §§ Queer the idea humanity - hugs to its breast of how different life must of necessity be over here. Tell him that at present it is New York at its worst, on a day of cele- bration,-with streets crowded, peo- ple pushing in all directions, friends meeting, exchanging greetings and passing on. To us life is the same, with the exception that now time is no longer a factor. Our emotions are the same—until we learn the wisdom of eliminating all unworthy ones. 33 OVER THERE 35 while, and when that desire comes, the material is at hand with which to create new garments. Verily, over here thoughts become things quickly. There are those here who do not aspire for newer or better things, and so they remain in their same condi- tion. Aspiration is the force here which pushes you on to better and greater achievements. Houses? Certainly we have them; each one to his liking, for he builds it as he desires, with the aid of others; all lend helping hands over here, and life becomes a proper mixture of work, play and study. Yes, there are places where hate, envy and all the evils still hold sway, and if those are the things which you enjoy, you dwell in that locality. Whatever you in your soul desire you receive. Ask and it is given you; seek higher and you find; and it is foremorb “I wish to tell the world what is theirs for the asking. To try and give them a new view- point—in place of their erroneous ideas. Before, I wrote what the Self saw only—now it is what I know.” £ip (ſuggle tuiti, the IBeuil º ºf was the hour when souls % simply cling to their bodies by the merest thread— when I met His Satanic Majesty. He is well named, for he is majestic in every sense of the word—majestic of mien—majestic of gesture, of ex- pression, and a god to look upon. He is a deceptive person, for one meeting him casually would think he was one of the great and good men of the day—abroad on errands of mercy and with kindness in his heart for all humanity. So carefully does he conceal his identity that he resem- bles most of mankind—who are one person to themselves and quite an- other to the world of men. We met. He knew me, but I had not yet had the pleasure of knowing 41 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL 43 swept all this out of the way. “The homes of our servants. We enter now the domains of those who rule and where we hope you will abide.” The turn of the street brought us to an estate situated on the crest of a magnificent mountain. Winding roads of dazzling whiteness and smoothness led through a garden of flowers and wonderful trees. Run- ning streams made music, and the song of birds—with brilliant plum- age. With no word spoken—but many implied by gesture and nod—we reached at last the mansion. Trans- parent—the walls seemed—heavy the air, with perfume. It was a palace of dreams—resting in the hollow of my hand. With a smile of winning sweet- ness he said: “This is yours. Will you rest?” “Mine! For what?” I exclaimed. MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL 45 my place, and, unconscious of what I did, sipped my wine from its jew- eled goblet. Lifting his wine, he said: “To our better acquaintance—our Brother- hood, I hope.” “To our better acquaintance, cer- tainly—but what do you mean by Brotherhood?” “That I will explain. In this mountain fastness there is a secret abode, which only the elect can en- ter, and where the members set in motion great events and accomplish great deeds. We have need of one like you to assist us.” “What do you feel I can do?” I asked. “My talents are slight. I do not comprehend my selection.” “Ah! That is not to be wondered at—for you have not correctly gauged your talents and ability. “Do you realize that you have the greatest talent ever known—in one direction?” 46 MY TUSSLE WITH TH, DEVIL “What!” I gasped. “Quite true! I will tell you. “In the beginning you were pre- sented, by lesser gods, with a talent for love of everything, with love for the pure, for the true, for the beau- tiful. You aspired to be one of the unknown workers for humanity—to create beauty, in poem and song; to weave for them music which would make life an ecstacy. To scatter happiness was your ambition. Jealousy was unknown to you, and envy a word you never even thought of. Kindness was your pass-word in the realm from which you came—but we, who were observing you, recog- nized a power much greater than you knew—a power to work results magi- cal in their effect—and so we came near you and sought to make your better acquaintance. You were a shy bird, difficult to 48 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL trusted. Ultimately, you nearly per- fected that branch of your gift, and so had an honored seat at our coun- cil table—and we desire you again to take your place at its head.” “But why?” I interrupted, “did I lose that exalted seat?” “Alas!” he answered, “you went back to your old habits. An animal was the cause of your downfall—a mongrel cur!” “You interest me,” I said. “Ex- plain how that occurred.” “You were in a forsaken village— having lost your way and wandered there—and without food. Little by little your strength left you, and you lay down under a tree, with all hope abandoned. A rustle in the dead grass aroused you, and presently a tiny, mangy dog crept up and licked your hand. The relief from the loneliness was so great that you foolishly took the cur in your arms.” MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL 49 “Foolishly!” I exclaimed. “Yes, foolishly; for that was the beginning of your loss of power. True, the animal led you out to safety and warmth, eventually. But what a seed was sown! Where before the harvest was well-nigh perfect, it now had the weeds of Pity and Gratitude— So do the mighty fall! That was a fatal sowing and reap- ing for you, for it even affected your view of men. You commenced to see in them bits of character before un- seen. Such useless things as Con- sideration, Love and Pity! Your habits, too, were affected by this poisonous weed. Where before you had been perfect in all ways vile, you now commenced to give up some of the most brilliant jewels—betrayal of women—the excitement and joy of perfect and exhilarating wines. Why you even went so low as to prefer 50 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL sparkling waters from Nature's sources.” Holding my jeweled goblet high, I laughed and said: “To what depths can man sink!” “Ah! I rejoice to see you agree with me. It is well! We shall suc- ceed together admirably, I feel sure,” he made answer. Then, drawing closer to me, “Now to our desires and agreement.” “By all means,” I replied. “I am eager to hear your plan. For, cer- tainly, if this domain is part of the reward, it interests me.” “Good! That is better,” he re- plied. “When you first left our abode and joined with others, who had contrary beliefs, we felt it was final—but as we watched and studied your soul— for you know, of course, souls are clearly visible to us—and saw there was within it, still, the desire to con- 52 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL “That is a little mystery, too, of yours, is it not? You ask if I will accept all that counts in the world, but you have not yet told me what I am to do for it all. Tell me that side of the mystery,” I replied. “Only a simple thing! Renew your association with us and take the leadership of the band which is ready to go forth and sow broadcast the seeds which are so much craved by the world. The seeds of Hate, of Malice, of Licen- tiousness, of Cruelty. Helps us to rid the world of gay- ety which is simple and wholesome. Help us to give them a greater ex- citement. Let us arouse the idea of hunting within their breasts—but children for game—not birds, which are only beautiful and give song, that would be tame sport! Take the lead and aid us to sow Revenge broadcast.” Qſìjt (Contest Yucatan—Time: Midnight of Joe, who lay on a bed in the corner, with a pain- racked body. Suspense as to the visitant made him almost unconscious, yet thor- oughly cognizant. It was as if some part of his brain stopped, while the rest leaped away from the body— then, with a whirl which made him reel, leaped back again. Gazing at him from a chair which stood in front of the fire was a softly clad woman. In her hands was myrtle and thyme, which made mys- terious shadows upon the wall. His humble room seemed decorated by a master hand. Each individual article took on a luster hitherto un- known. 57 58 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL With a movement, however, his eyes were brought back to the door, through which a figure slowly en- tered. It was radiant with a light which dazzled. Entering slowly, it stopped at the foot of his bed and said, in a voice sweeter than any mu- sic ever heard. “I am Death! Will you come with me to a Summerland where there is only joy, and pain is unknown?” “Death!” he gasped. “You, Death! But you do not look as I thought Death did! You are beautiful!” “Yes,” replied the figure, “I am the most beautiful of all, except one, but my gifts are more beautiful than all. I bring surcease from trials, free- dom from pain, shelter from all storms and peace. I,-who am so much feared by mankind,-have only joy and happi- 116SS. Make ready and come with me! 62 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Life! which promised you happi- ness, health, wealth, fame! Life! which dances and sings and has no need for tomorrow. Will you stay with me? See! I hold out to you healing herbs that will bring for- getfulness and give you power to go on and achieve what you desire. See! I offer you fame! You shall be able to sit above others, to cast them forth, to spit upon them. You shall be lord of the cities. Fairest women shall smile and caress you; men shall sue you for rec- ognition. Will you stay?” Joe made a motion of assent. There was a moment's stillness, then, with a laugh which froze his blood, Life said: “Again I win, and your beauty and your gifts are spurned, Death! Again I win.” Death smiled and said: “I am con- tent. Show him your face!” THE CONTEST 63 At this command the figure began to unwind from the head the drapery which had enveloped it, and Joe, with staring eyes, looked into a hollow shell, a skeleton! §leeping §leeping Gangs In suits of gray Worked upon the highway In a Southern State. Stones Were their companions, Coarse food Their nourishment. Cruelty Met often with Greed And Fear Lived with Hatred, When Love Sought entrance On a night In June, Trying All the entrances Unavailingly, And tiring at last. 67 68 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Kindness came And whispering In Love's ear Said: “Down the road You will find open several houses. Better go! I will watch here.” Love Gave thanks, And with bounding steps Went gayly to the Highway. The sun Was hot And the stones were sharp, But the time for rest was near, And a little ripple Was running along the highway,+ A tiny little wave Of Joy. Love Seeing this, SLEEPING Danced with glee And began to sing: “Come with me Where the flowers bloom And birds make music All the noon. Sunshine Dances, Girls give glances To the moon. Friends Take chances, Gay their fancies, Come with me.” Startled Glances went down the line, And Love swept on To the end, Seeking Entrance in each heart And sending thrills 70 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL With delight, Until To each one Passed the word “Love is here!” Backs Grew straighter, Faces brighter, Down the line. God Crept nearer Saying: “Come with me! Take No chances With the sleepers— Come with me!” And down The highway Swept the summons, “Come with me!” #earning #earning HE lamps on the street º! throw fitful shadows upon º the pavements, which glis- * ten with many raindrops. Walking slowly, with bent shoul- ders and bowed head, is a man with slightly graying hair. Round and round the square he walks, glancing neither to the right nor left, until finally, wearying, he crosses the street and enters a house where the curtains are closely drawn. Bits of smilax, rose leaves and trodden violets can be seen about the steps, and as he opens the door, the air is charged with escaping perfume. With a hasty glance at the heavy draperies which conceal the opening to the room, he mounts hurriedly the stairs, and with trembling hands turns the knob of a door. 75 76 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Gently he pushes it wide, and the soft gleam of the lamp plays upon the silken draperies of a woman's TOOIII. - No sound breaks the stillness as the man closes the door and with a heart- broken cry throws himself upon his knees by the bedside. His frame shakes from head to foot as his arms are thrown across the bed which had so recently held all his world. At last, worn out by the battle, his body relaxes, and released from its leash, the spirit meets the occupant of the room. Clasped in his arms, with gentle, loving fingers she strokes his face and says: “I am still here with you—always, as you are now with me.” His clasp tightens as he sobs: “I thought that you were dead— that you had left me.” 78 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL the room with its softly glowing lamp. A well-remembered perfume floats upon the air and his hair is brushed as by a fairy wind. With arms outstretched, he rises to his feet. “Tell me it is true! That, if it was a dream, that dreams are the truth of life! Give me some sign that I may know, my darling. I must know! I must! Give me some little sign!” As he gazes at the curtain which conceals the doorway, there is a faint rustle of silken drapery, and a shadow seems upon it for just a moment. The lamp burns low, the man sits motionless. “Was it true? Was it a sign, or was it only a movement by the Wind?” - II. Seated on the sidewalk, crying bit- terly, is a small boy, holding in his arms a dog. YEARNING 81 With a happy and joyous “good- bye” ringing in his ears, the man gazed at the little figure flying down the street. “I wonder! Yes! It was a sign, for is it not said—‘A little child shall lead them!’” My wish is to widen the horizon. It is important for humanity to know. It must recognize the oneness of everything. We will write of more than man. I will give a series: First—Beasts: then, Flowers and Jewels. 88 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Sodden mass. Then it passes, and with a weary movement once more he paces to and fro. Of what does he think? Does he know that once again has been enacted an old drama and a King sold into captivity, or does he feel that it should be said: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” II. THE TOILER Up — down — down — up—from early morn. Up—down—with slow and steady strides, until the rich brown earth holds up eager hands to receive its gifts. Up—down — down—up—wearity plods the Toiler until the sun is high, when, with a long-drawn sigh, the time of rest is welcomed. A bit of shade, a refreshing drink, WEARINESS 89 and a little rest before the weary round begins again. Up – down — down—up—day in and out. “‘Monotonous,' you say? Yes! if only the thought of the weary rounds is held. Compensation comes from a pat on the neck, which tells of appre- ciation and affection and the knowl- edge of being a necessary part of the whole. The harvest I sow is reaped and lessens in other lands the harvest of the Reaper. “Up — down — down — up, with a stronger pull, for I am doing my bit, and “‘To him who is faithful in small things much shall be given.’” Qſìjt ſºlabt I. Nil FAR the door sits an im- §§ pressive looking man. | “It is growing dark, mademoiselle; just turn up the light.” The interior is flooded with light at this command. In a far corner lies a spaniel, gaz- ing with pain-stricken eyes at the man. He is too worn in spirit to do more than give a feeble move, now and then, to first one ear and then an- other. But worn and spent as he is, his eyes are alert for movement on the part of the man, and as the man rises from his chair, the dog utters a faint cry of fear and begins to shake; but his trembling gradually ceases as the man goes in the opposite direction, and he closes his eyes in complete weariness. 91 THE SLAVE 93 sparkles a glowing fire, and, with ears alert, listens for a well-known step. Joy permeates him as it comes nearer and nearer, and then the door opens. With a waving of banner and joy- ous greeting he leaps to meet a caress and welcome: “Well, old boy! Glad to see me? Bring me my slippers. There's a good fellow.” The joy of taking some part of that dear one close to him and carrying it where he knew it belonged! The excitement of returning and hearing “Right you are, old boy! now the other,” and then the delicious sense of work well done and the praise earned, and the happiness and joy of the hand on his head, while both relaxed to the warmth of the fire. A sudden pang of pain rouses him, and the remembrance is shattered and dismay takes its place. 94 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL What has happened? All he can recall is standing on the doorstep, waiting for that promised walk, and suddenly a jerk, and he is flying through the air and is thrust into a black and yelling mass of his brothers. Then a brilliantly lighted place and a gruff voice, which says: “That's the one. He's a thorough- bred. Bring him.” Running, darting this way, that way, snapping at his brothers who bar his escape, he dashes here, there, everywhere, looking in vain for an outlet, only to be cornered at last, with the same kind of a jerk which had torn him away from his door- step. “Put up a fight, didn't he? The experiment will be all the more inter- esting now, for the nerves are ex- cited.” Then, straps and buckles which THE SLAVE 97 FREEDOM II. Worn and weary, a man enters a room where a fire burns upon the hearth. - Throwing himself into a chair, he glances at the vacant rug at his feet, and, with a sob in his voice, says: “Old Boy! No slippers for me to- night by my old faithful.” No sound breaks the stillness, and he gazes forelornly towards his room. Then he sits erect—rigid, for through the door comes a dearly loved figure, head high and banner waving in anticipation of “Well done, good and faithful servant,” and love shining in his eyes, and in his mouth—a slipper! With suspended breath the man watches, and even at the touch of cold nose upon his hand, remains rigid. Then, with a cry, he throws £iggionarieg I. |UST outside of a walled § city there is a field of white—little, delicate, slim emissaries of peace, waft- ing their messages of healing broad- cast. With a ringing of delicate mu- sical bells, they say: “Come with me! Here is joy and peace.” Within the walls a lonely watcher in a tower looks and listens. Hidden from view are the tools of trade. Gazing on the field, he muses on the infallibility of the law, which with undeviating regularity brings forth the thousands of tiny Heralds. Surely they are a symbol of some part of that Great Whole—some plan is back of their being! 101 MISSIONARIES 103 But Outside—are dainty, delicate, slim bits of loveliness, which, with gentle nods and soft waves of perfume bring the message that, Outside, all is as God intended, for “Consider the lilies! They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” 3ttuels 3&tmembranteg 3&tmembrantes I. THE SENTINELS: Uniforms of green—hardy and erect, they wait until mustered—keep- ing watch throughout the seasons. # * > * >k >k THE ARMY: In glittering array the army stands for inspection. Russet, gold and green are their uniforms, with trimmings of scarlet. Unmoved they will stand and re- ceive all onslaughts—and if some fall in the battle, those remaining will still be firm of purpose—turning ever a smile of welcome and holding out arms to those who seek them. Red and russet and gold Green and bronze and scarlet 113 REMEMBRANCES 115 friends and do with gladness what- ever came his way—without thought of honors—only with love for all— and cheerfully obey. Taking a bit of the uniform of his sentinel friends, and a bit of russet and gold and scarlet, too, he softly places them in his pocket and with a salute goes out to join his company. £unitions £iunitions Hardware Store—Time: Midday Gazing out of a window which overlooked a training field for sol- diers was a grizzled old man. Time had left his impress with no gentle mark, yet around the eyes was a lin- gering spark of youth, and about the mouth the lines told of a gentle and loving spirit. As his eyes roamed over the field a small squad came into view, march- ing in “twos” and wheeling into “fours” and “right about,” as the command was given. The gaze of the man grew more intense, and the lines about the mouth deepened, while, slowly, a flush of pride, which could not be controlled, swept over the face, and uncon- sciously his shoulders squared and his 119 120 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL back straightened as his son came into view. The straight boyish figure marched and wheeled in perfect unison with his comrades, but there was an in- definable power in the set of his head and poise of the body, which bespoke determination and control beyond the ordinary. Suddenly the silence is broken by a voice, and the man, with a start, turns from the window and faces a customer who has entered so quietly that even the bell on the door has failed to make any sound. “Good-day to you, sir,” said the customer. “I have been searching the town for some munitions. Have you any?” “A complete stock—of every- thing,” the old man answered. “Well, I want both large and small. Something suitable for a double-bar- rel and a self-repeater. Can you sup- ply me?” MUNITIONS 121 “Yes. How much of each will you have?” The man hesitated, and then put- ting his hand in his pocket, he drew out a bundle of notes and handful of gold. “That is all I have. Wrap up all you can give me for that amount.” The old man gazed at the money and then his eyes traveled toward the field where young boys eagerly an- swered to the commands sent forth : Forward! March Turning to his shelves, he took down, first, a box marked “For double-barrel,” and wrapped it up. Then, next, came a box labelled “self- repeater—all sizes,” and then, with great care, came the last—“deadly mixture—guaranteed.” - . Each one he made into a separate package and then pushed them to- ward his visitor, who thanked him and departed. 122 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Gathering up the gold and bank notes, the old man went to a safe in the far corner, and, opening the door, took out a drawer marked “Munition Fund” and put the money into it, smiling as he did so. Taking his place again at the win- dow, he gazed over the field, lost in thought, and reviewing in memory the years of his youth, when he, too, obeyed the command “Forward! March 1” - A sound made him turn, and he was confronted by his customer, who, in a state of extreme anger, waved his packages at him, exclaiming: “I asked for munitions! See what you have given me!” The old man came forward, and taking the boxes, proceeded to read: “For double-barrel—warranted, “Kindness!” “For self-repeater—guaranteed, ‘Joy !' MUNITIONS 123 “Deadly mixture—Love! “Well, my friend, what is wrong? This is all as it should be!” “Should be? I wanted gunpowder and cartridges—not that stuff!” “You have lost your way, my man. On this planet those are our only mu- nitions.” Öoing 390mit ºlſ T- = HE sky was heavy with ſº menacing clouds, and wind * —howling dismally as it blew through the trees— when I met a wayfarer who was walking, with downcast eyes, along the highway which skirted the town. Gazing at him sharply, I met a fur- tive glance, which held within it pleading, and yet had an assurance which was compelling. He hesitated when we came abreast, and as I felt in the mood for converse, I bade him “Good-evening.” “It is a good evening, is it not,” he replied. “Good, in its freedom of elements. They make merry to- night.” This was a strange answer, and my curiosity was piqued, and I felt con- strained to lead him on further. 127 GOING HOME 129 so do the Beings dwelling in the ele- mentS. Tonight they will tell me whether I make merry or pass out in sorrow.” “That is a strange thing you say! ‘Make merry or pass out in sorrow.’ What does that portend?” I ques- tioned. “Sir,” he answered, “you do not understand, and yet you look to me as one of us. Tonight I am going home and I have not yet made the necessary de- cision as to my going—whether it shall be a right merry leave-taking or one of sadness. Today a winged messenger came and told me my exile was ended and I could start for my home tonight.” “And where is your home?” I asked. “That is for me to decide.” “For you to decide! Is it not where you lived last?” I asked. flip #eartſ, £ip 49eartſ) =SºlRANDFATHER sits in an | old armchair. The back of it boasts an anti-macassar in many colors, while the seat has a patchwork cushion. Grandmother occupies a low rocker, which moves slowly to and fro, as she softly hums the hymn of the Sunday service. Keeping silence is grandfather's “long suit”—while making, in reality, my life. He is a sturdy old chap, with a will and determination which has car- ried him beyond anti-macassars and patchwork cushions, and centered it- self upon me. No fly was ever more helpless! I make the announcement: “Life is going to give me some- thing more than this country town.” 135 136 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Silence reigns on the left of the hearth, and creak! creak! and a gentle hum answers me from the right. Minutes, which seem hours, pass— but emboldened by the pictures seen in the coals, once more a voice is heard: “When I am grown up I am going to the city! and I am going to travel ! and I am going around the world! and I am going to make a heap of money and be famous!” Silence! Creak—creak!! Half of eternity passes—when once more, emboldened spirit takes hold of courage and dares to speak. “I have made up my mind and I am going to do what I said, and noth- ing shall keep me from it!” Silence! Creak—creak!! Years pass in review. The coals burn to ash, and from a far-off sphere issues a voice: Qije Uijree º'g Qºbe (ſhree º'g FOREWORD Without Health, Life seems Hell. With Harmony it becomes Heaven. And when combined, Happiness, here, is the result. 141 THE THREE H'S 145 refused to move away from the man's side, however, and refused even the food and drink offered until he saw that aid was being given to his com- panion. Then, with a growl of satis- faction, which contained as well a de- spairing moan—as if the relief of nourishment was almost too great to bear—he commenced to devour ra- venously what was placed before him, and gave thanks, in all directions, with a waving and vigorous tail mes- Sage. Just as he made his final thump of gratitude, the figure of his companion stirred and moaned, and instantly the dog was over the heads of the men, bending over his master and wildly lapping his face and hands, from which the dirt and blood had been removed. It was a face of refinement, deli- cate in its outline, and with an ex- pression which held the crowd silent. THE THREE H'S 147 “So you are Dakta's good friends. I welcome you, comrades.” A shuffling of feet answered him, and glances shot from right to left, but before any one had summoned the courage to reply, he continued: “It seems strange to you, I per- ceive, for me to welcome you as Dakta's friends. Men live all their lives with the most precious of jewels at their door and are unaware of it. Often it is wrapped in poor cover- ing and often, too, in gorgeous rai- ment. I was one of those men.” Here he stopped and stroked the dog, who now lay quiet and content, glancing up. now and then, into his friend's face. After a moment of silence, the man raised himself and looked in- tently into each face. A furtive smile answered his query, on some faces, while others looked away, and yet, without their volition, 148 MY TUSS LE WITH THE DEVIL their eyes came back and rested on his face. “Come nearer, comrades. Sit at ease while I tell you of this jewel, which you all have within your reach and which Dakta, too, possesses.” The men seated themselves quietly —one might almost say, reverently— so different was their attitude from their usual manner. When the men were settled, his glance traveled over them all. “Do you know that you have here untold riches?” “To hell, we have Steve. “Exactly,” responded the stranger. “That is just it—Hell!—and that is paved with untold wealth—good in- tentions.” “Huh !” Snorted one of the lis- teners, “much good that wealth does a feller; you can't buy a drink with that.” !" ejaculated THE THREE H'S 149 “You are mistaken, my friend. It does you the greatest good in the world, and I will prove it to you; and, furthermore, it will purchase for you all the drinks you desire. Will you hear?” “Fire away.” II. “When I was a lad, I was puny, sickly, and in consequence was barred from the joy of companions and play. My parents were too occupied with their great responsibilities—my father amassing wealth and my mother keeping her place as the leader of society—to give any special atten- tion to the offspring who only upset the routine of the household by ill- ness at inopportune times, and so the care was relegated to hirelings—who were paid for their time and gave accordingly only the efforts of their hands, with no thought that they pos- sessed a heart. 150 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL I was kept out of doors constantly, and my only companion was the mother of Dakta. We grew up to- gether, and it was the exercise given me from very joy and ecstacy—to- gether with the love and devotion, which I felt for the first time, and realized did exist—which restored me gradually to health. Next I became acquainted with selfishness and cruelty, for my play- mate—having added to the joy of the world, five beautiful downy bits of life—was taken away from me, for she brought a good price with four of her children. Money was of more importance than love. Dakta, here, was left behind, however, for the stableman, for he had looked after her mother. It was from the stableman that I received my first lesson as to the wealth which was to be obtained. He was an ugly, brutal looking THE THREE H'S 151 man, dirty and unkempt most of the time, but to me he was a very god, for each day he came to the wicket of the fence, with Dakta in his arms, and with a smile which was like a beam of sunshine, he would say, “Hey! little master, here she is,” and with that he would put Dakta through the wicket. Each day ever since she has been with me, sharing joy and sorrow and teaching me with infinite patience and love the great lessons of life— Faithfulness, Gratitude, Cleanliness, Godliness and Work. For ten years she has been stead- fast and her love unchanged, al- though I have led her through the mire many times, and hunger and cold have been her portions.” Here he put his hand upon the dog and turned its face upward, and, looking into its eyes, said: “But never lack of love, old girl! Never that!” 154 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL We need helpers, and Dakta shall choose. After she has selected each one for his particular office, we will discuss the work to be done. I will tell you in advance, however, that you will receive greater payment for your services than you have ever had be- fore.” The men were as graven images. Then came the command: “Leader! Daktal” With a dignity which was inspir- ing, Dakta walked around each man, looking, first, intently into each face and then sniffing. Having made the rounds, she walked to the most be- sotted looking, and putting her paws on his knee, looked up into his face and whined, meanwhile waving in triumph the flag of her tail. The man at whose knee she stood put out a trembling and hesitating hand, whereupon Dakta gave a little yelp of pleasure, and kissed it, THE SENSES 163 TOUCHING:— From outside my nest I gaze upon the sea. - My hands clasp only the leaves of many flowers and dampened earth, when leaden sky is reft and the tears of the angels of heaven fall upon my head in understanding, and are ad- ded to the sea! From out my nest I gaze across the sea. A sunlit, sparkling sea A gleaming dancing sea— “All joy! all hopel be thine,” It seems to say, “For life has just begun.” jfantieg Birds go seeking Mates, All on a day made gay. “Trees are blooming, Branches waiting, Will you come?” Shy the answer— Swift surrender— Roundelays are heard. Time is flying, Summer coming, When the families Say farewell. 167 168 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL In a pasture green Fair flowers bloom; Gay their faces— Bright their dresses. Swiftly seeking, Whirling, wheeling, Comes a flock At noon. “Here are daisies, Sweetest grasses, Buttercups and clover, Let us linger, sip and treasure.” Summer passes, Grasses perish, But in sweetness Is Springtime cherished. FANCIES 169 Daylight passes, Night approaches, Lights begin to gleam. In the houses One can fancy Nestlings tucked to rest. Good night, sea, Good night world, All my soul goes out To thee. Happy meeting, Friendly greeting Upon the milky way, 170 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL TRUSTING Upon the ocean wide Two little ships set sail. Over an ocean blue Two little birds sailed true. Kneeling upon a nursery floor Two little children fair. Under a star-lit sky A youth and a maiden, shy. with sightless eyes and folded hands, Old age murmurs, “God knows best.” Faith—trust—love—courage! That is all—God does the rest. FANCIES 173 Oh! the hours we spend, And the days we spend, In thinking no thoughts at all— For the only thoughts— which really COunt— Are the thoughts of love sent out to all, For they are the thoughts worth while, 178 My TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL So motionless she lies that one might think it a magical statue carven by a master hand—only, in the eyes gleams a force which keeps at regu- lar beats the play of the blades and sends the craft to the port desired. Supporting herself on one arm, she raises high the other and points to a gleaming palace by the water's edge, and with a quicker rhythm the barge sweeps over the water and reaches the landing. It is a palace of dreams which ap- pears to be holding within its walls the design of Aspiration. Alighting from the barge, the nymph seems to float through the air, so lightly does she glide over the earth, and enters the palace. In the entrance hall she hesitates and looks—from the left, where Music beckons, to the right, where Art smiles, and then stands and gazes at a closed door. It is simple in design 182 My TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL desires, like a pure crystal which re- flects all within its surface. Just as the crystal will reflect blurred pict- ures when it is marred by ill usage, so this seed fails to give the perfect flower of knowledge when it has met with neglect. To give it warmth will bring to view all its possibilities, all its loveliness. “Make a search for that seed with- in you which contains all memories. Review each and every event by pouring upon it the sunshine of under- standing and searching. Look with- in and “Know Thyself.” At this the woman put down her book and once again her gaze wan- dered to the horizon and within her eyes came a gleam—gazing intently —without movement. - One watching her would have said she saw something upon that sea, which stretched before her. With a swift movement she slips VESTERDAY-TODAY 183 from her pillows, and with wide open eyes, exclaims: “The door—the same one of my dreams.” Entranced, she remains motionless until a sudden gust of wind picks up her book and flings it at her feet. Stooping, she picks it up, and then, as her eyes scan the page, there is a sudden tenseness of the body, as she reads:— “The key to the ‘Temple of Knowl- edge’ lies within each soul and he who seeks, from the heart, shall find. To knock imperiously will summon the guardians, but to reach the inner chamber it is necessary to enter first into the closet of your own soul. There, in a neglected corner, will be the golden key. It will be in need of burnishing, perhaps—hidden as it has been all these years, but just a little effort will bring out its brilli- ancy. Take it in your hands, rever- Ørtion—3&eaction ACTION VILLAGE nestling among the pines. Only the buzz of insects and hum of bees, together with the ac- companiment of rustling branches, breaks the silence. All is peace and harmony. Hark! From afar sounds a discordant blatant note. Nearer it comes, ever growing harsher, until at last, at the end of the street is seen a mounted horseman, with a bugle at his lips. With one final blast he summons all the peaceful souls, who crowd about him. He watches them, as they gather, with an appraising eye, and then with uplifted hand commands silence. 189 190 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL “All men and boys past the age of twelve follow me. “In the name of the Law you must obey! Come!” - Raising his bugle, once more he shatters the peace of that little ham- let and moves on, followed in silence by all the men and boys over twelve. No sound but that of moving feet can be heard. No tears, no lamenta- tions from the stricken statues left behind. The hush of even-tide— The drone of insects— The hum of bees— The swaying of branches, Thrilled by the breeze— and silence once more descends upon the street ACTION.—REACTION 191 Furroughed ground— Booming guns— Shrieking shells— Smoke-laden air— Young, old-men boys, automatons of men, ply their trade at the command “By order of the Lawl Obey!” Daylight passes— The hues of even-tide caress, And speak of rest, but the command rings out: “Forward! Attack!” Night comes forth With gleaming mantle, And lays it over all that remains— Furroughed ground! 192 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL REACTION A bugle sounds in a hamlet town, and streaming forth come stricken souls, who with outstretched arms go forth to meet that straggling band which passes through the street—but they pay no heed. Luminous are their faces, radiant their robes, as they gaze straight ahead, with never a look to the right or the left. Morning breezes— Buzz of insects Hum of bees— Branches bending To the breeze. g ºigion 196 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL Still I gaze: High in the heavens is motionless this wonderful golden bird—then, slowly, with scarcely moving pinions it descends, and with a final quiver takes under the shelter of its mighty wings a world of Sorrow. Still I gaze: No movement, but ever the light increasing and dazzling in brilliancy and beauty. Still I gaze: A flutter—an unfolding of the mighty pinions and then a swift flight upwards—ever swifter—ever higher, until at last all sight of its wonder is lost. Then I gaze where it rested, and behold! a new earth of dazzling gold and everywhere gleaming lights of rainbow tints. Then I muse: And from out of the silence comes a voice: | | |