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 THE PROPERTY OF 
 SCARBORO 
 
 DMDI ir> I torsAnw 
 
CHARLES M. SHELDON'S BOOKS. 
 
 Paper, 35 cents. 
 
 In His Steps; «« What Would lesus Do P'- 
 Extra fine cloth binding, 50 cents 
 
 Mis Brother's Keener* rhr:«f c 
 
 The Crucifixion of Phillin stron<r 
 
 Extra fine cloth bindiirso^/n*;"^- '^^^''' 
 
 25 cents. 
 
 r;^E?;?'tat-4^-K.„_^,^^ 
 
 one should read it. 
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days: 
 
 quences. Paper, 25 cents. 
 50 cents. 
 
 E«Prr- ^"^^ Its Conse. 
 *.xtra fine doth binding, 
 
 ThiA^^'^^ll^^^^^^Je^flj^.ed the Life of Robe. Ha^,. 
 n^^ra^fi^./^,-^^^^^^^^^^^ Paper. ., cents. 
 
 The Twentieth Door. Paner «. * r, 
 
 binding, so cents. ^^^P^"^' ^S cents. Extra fine cloth 
 
 flne cloth binding, 50 7mts '*''' '^ °"** Extra 
 
 ^•T|« », of „.^ ^,i„„. , • ^„^^ __, __^^ ^_^ .^ ^^^^ 
 
 THE POOIE ^i^^^^ CO, Lin,it«t 
 
SHELDON'S WORKS. 
 
 BOUND IN EXTRA FINE ENGLISH CLOTH. 
 
 Miir^-.^ihij 
 
 ,rr - .'.""«!ui.li-,V.* 
 
 Oi[ ijccj^r ponir 
 
 Printed on good white paper, uniform in 
 sue and thickness, especiaUy suitable for 
 Gift, or Sabbath School Library. 
 
 SEVEN VOLUMES IN BOX, 
 PRICE $3.00. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE POOLE PRINTING CO., Limited, 
 TORONTO, ONT. 
 
3 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE 
 
 OB 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS, 
 
 By CHARLES H. SHELDON 
 
 Author of " In His Stone »«</-» 
 
 RrotK ^ "-^^^P"' Overcoming ' } : World," « His 
 Brother's Keeper," "The Crucirxioi; of Philip 
 
 Strong," .. Robert Hardys Seven Days,'. ' 
 " The Twentieth Door," Etc. 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 THE POOLE PRINTmc CO., L,m,ted, 
 28 AND 30 Melinda St. 
 I 
 

 PKESS OF 
 
 THE POOLE PRINTING COMPANY. LIMITED. 
 
 PRINTtRii AND PuBUSHERS, 
 
 28 AND 30 Melinda Street, Toronto. Ont. 
 
 
 m 
 
 »'t. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This story was prompted by a desire to make my 
 church serv.ee in the evening intensely interesting I 
 .a«d to n^yself. "How far would you go'to hear Zsel 
 
 chur h 'h,dT"/°" "^'' ^°"^ °'- «- blocks'from a 
 
 booh ir 1 ? T '■°°'"' '" •^^^^-^^^•'•' «" interesting 
 
 weaL 'h ?"; ''T'"' ""'^ '^ ^" uncomfortable 
 
 tTon to .o toT i'u ""'*= '''■^^ ^"^ ""d" "o obliga- 
 tion to go to church because you were not a memhJr 
 
 supposing a„ ,hat. what woul/have to be^^heTra ;; 
 
 and awav Ir'omTf.V":'" ^° '^^" ^°" ^^ °^ ^^at chair 
 and away from that book or paper out into a disagreeable 
 night to walk four blocks to a churrh ?" ^»'^'^»'"« 
 
 sto^^'^r"""^ *? '"'^" '^'' '^""t'O" has created this 
 rcacn men with this story, and mav th#. *.n/» ^f :* c j 
 
 sr ?. ""'" '-'''"'«■" '=°"^» "t; :«rauH^ 
 
 Central Congregational Church 
 
 TnwvA V ' 
 
 Charles M. Sheldon. 
 
 '*» 
 
RICHARD BRUCE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 """""anSl 'r? u- ^:°^' " '"^"' *° ««'•" the v' . 'e world 
 and forfeit his life ?-Jesus Christ. ' 
 
 He was a typical American. That ^'s if th.r. ■ 
 typical American yet. he was one HU irV ^"^ 
 
 grandmother were born in !i,u ^'\«'^^^^^thcr and 
 
 case a reverence for Iruth ndTfl^o' ^^ Vh. . °"" 
 
 Hetion. Such in brief L!J ^ "' " *""■• »' 
 
 fold In, life HU " 1 =• ■?'" " "' *"«'" '•> ""- 
 
 .!,• c . '"' "" Richard Bruce anrf ,h:. : 
 
 the firs, „„e hi, history ha, ever been Tri„en 
 
 a .a"' brick LlS/tdT '"/'■■^^^° " "" '»- °' 
 The ,„„ window, " coked „« ona"/^' """'"™^' 
 scattered (fourt snrrounrf.j T , '''"''• "'"spaper 
 Pierced bv wTido^ Tt i^.™""'-*™'" Wck wall. 
 
 pierced by windows, which had 
 
 pparcntiy not been 
 
■ .ja:. 
 
 ° ' RICHARD BRUCE; OR, ' 
 
 washed by anything except rain and fog since the build- 
 ings were made. Within this room were a well-worn 
 table wjth many papers scattered over it, two chairs, a 
 bed an old lounge with a faded cloth cover which looked 
 as If It had once done duty as a window curtain, and a 
 small bookshelf in a corner. Richard himself was writ- 
 ing. It was a gloomy day, cold and raw. That was the 
 reason he had on his overcoat. For an hour he wrote 
 steadily, with few pauses for corrections. He seemed to 
 be labonng under some unusual excitement. Finally 
 he threw dawn his pen, rose from his seat, and walked 
 over to the window, ran his fingers through a very 
 bushy and tangled head of hair, and exclaimed, appar- 
 ently talking to a couple of city pigeons just lighted on 
 a chimneypot : — 
 
 " Finished at last 1" 
 
 He walked back to the table and picked up a pile of 
 soiled manuscript and handled it with evident affection 
 
 Its the best thing I've ever done." he muttered to 
 himself ; and then he sat down and looked thoughtfully 
 around him. He was not in the habit of talking aloud to 
 himself, but he seemed on the point of delivering some 
 kind of speech when a step sounded along the hall out- 
 side there was a peculiar rap on the door, and before 
 Richard could say, "Come in," in did come a young 
 man of about his own age, who exclaimed heartily as if 
 he felt quite at home :— 
 
 " Well, how goes it to-day, Dick ?" 
 " It's finished." 
 
 "Good I I congratulate you I Shake hands upon 
 It ! and the visitor reached out a strong hand and the 
 two shook hands as only true friends can 
 
 . I '^!" n*" *^"* '*' R'^hard," said 'the newcomer. 
 4s he took the other chair. " Hullo ! What have you 
 done with your stove ?" 
 
 "Sold it," replied Richard. "What is the use of a 
 stove when a man has an overcoat ?" 
 and sympathy to help make the world better. Why should 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 7 
 
 whe'jl; ! '"^^°'' ^°" '"'" ^^ ^^"'"^ that next. But 
 th^k of J ^°'"! '° ^"' ""' ^''' ^ You don't seen, to 
 comLn "^ '7^°'' "' "" ' " ^"d his friend looked 
 TZlhltX" *'•' '^'^^ '^ ^'^^"d' ^ho burst out into 
 
 t| n i ^'"*°' ' pretended annoyance. 
 I soldTh. '«. ' i "T' °"" thought of that when 
 
 after all tL?'- "' ^.-'^^^ *° ^^^^ ^^'"^ P^P"' -"^ 
 after all the stove never did amount to much. It didn't 
 
 .nlT" '''" °"' ^°°'"'"^ ''''' -d when I pu 
 another one on top of it. it put the fire out " 
 
 «M T ^'' u ^'? ^^'^'^ y°"'''« P'"^"^ and hard to suit." 
 said Tom with a look at his friend that showed how well 
 
 " BuM:?T ''I* 'r'^'*^^ "^^"^^ - the old overc" 
 But lets have the last chapter. I'm eager for it. It 
 must be good to compare with the rest. So read it off. 
 
 hour'^^nt ^rV °""' '"^ '''^ ''''^''^y f°^ half an 
 ..I.- ,.""!^ interrupted several times with ex- 
 
 f^n!^^'!')' '':^'-'' "Couldn't do betTer m^- 
 
 and look I ^'\^"' •' " ''"* ^hen the reader finished 
 
 of it.^omP"'" '"' '^""*^^' ""^^^ '^^ yo" think 
 
 thr^*" ;;^^'''''^ °''" ^"^ ^^'t the table a blow that 
 threatened to upset the ink bottle. 
 
 wo7 But"l'' ' ^'"^ '''' ' remarkably good piece of 
 " Well » 
 
 ring to It. But the question is, will it sell ?" 
 
 o„,l„ i, ;" v':._,.J , ";?.■" '■'«"<"• '=. I^ it me. and 
 n^atter of secondary importanci'' " ^^ """ '' " 
 
8 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "Why, you princely millionaire, what on earth are 
 you writing the book for ?" 
 
 " Because I cannot help it. Because I must write it. 
 Because I feel the way Paul did when he said, ' Woe is 
 me, if I , reach not the goppel ! ' Woe is me if I 
 write not this book I Shall there be no high ideals in 
 authorship as well as in preaching or in art or music ? 
 I tell you, Tom, I would sooner starve than write trash 
 that will sell just because the reading public will not 
 buy anything else." 
 
 " Well, I believe you would. And freeze to death at 
 the same time You appear to be pretty warm over the 
 subject. You couldn't lend me your overcoat, could you 
 until you get cooled off ? ' 
 
 " Ah, Tom, you know me well enough." And Richard 
 r^e and took a turn up and down the room. "What 
 am- 1 living this sort of life for if not in defense of my 
 own sacred ideals ? You know since my mother died, 
 rom, and I was practically alone in the world, nothing 
 has seemed quite so real to me as an ideal. I would die 
 for mme. Why should I not be allowed to have a pas- 
 sion for the truth ? How can I act a lie to what I know 
 is the right thing ? No I cannot contradict my own 
 nature. If I do. I am no longer a free man. I am in 
 bondage to that father of lies, the devil." 
 
 "And meanwhile you live in this hole, sell your stove 
 for writing paper, eat indescribable bills-of-fare at five- 
 cent restaurants, cut yourself loose from society, and 
 make a guy of yourself in that old overcoat which you 
 outgrew in your freshman, year, when you might use 
 your talents to make a decent living in my profession. 
 Why can t you be in bondage to that father of lies for a 
 httle while until you get started, and then run away from 
 him and be a free man the rest of yoUr life ? People don't 
 want ideals. What they want is news, sensational liter- 
 ature photographs of passing events, paragraphic con- 
 densat,ons of men and things. This isn't an ace of idenl. 
 iJ'ck. it is an age ot amateur photography in literaftire." 
 
 'ik 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. g 
 
 kno; i. „o'w„' do 4 Koodrdi:"*"* '° ""'""^ ' 
 ments, and, truly «M (,n ■ f ^"'" ""' '"' ='"«- 
 
 it nto the hand<; n( iu.- '^«aa»n«- They would put 
 
 sold ™d .LTeopt'aad ".' T" i""" "• " "« "-k 
 happiest ■nanT.Ws dt ' Z"'" ^ "" '>™"''"' -« 
 feel satisfied simX 1^^'. i' °°.' °°° °' """^ "l>o 
 
 would not be contented w,?h= .1- f" * Pf«acJ.er I 
 full all the time Twan. "/k"' J'"* ''" '^ > ''"•^ 
 what I ha,e "ri„/„ T, f ' °'^''°°'', '» ">= ™<l- That i. 
 
 lisher who wl d publi h for . ' I '"'"'"' """ > P'l- 
 .«. «o. ^ve .e a re:twl,dt'ht ^1.^ '" " 
 
 With a'U'Thi'; ZZrf H'^haS' ch'.-" ^™ 
 trine." ^^**s Chnstian doc- 
 
 " Yes, and the Son of Man cam«» ;«f^ *i.- 
 *.- his life a ransom (or maS ""tS SrisT"";'" 
 
 '•- '"J' uuctrine is more Christian *!,,„ '"'"' * 
 
 r^ve mone, and the UhoJ'T'IJ^r'i.d'il^i 
 
 v:.^ 
 
10 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 not a man give the fruit of his brain if he feels that that 
 IS the best thing in him ?" 
 
 "Most men don't, though. Wouldn't you take money 
 lor your book if it was offered to you ?" 
 
 "I certainly would. But that isn't what I wrote the 
 book for. 
 
 "I don't believe you did. But the world won't be- 
 leve you. Ah, Dick, the world isn't ideal. You don't 
 know it half so well as I do. If you were connected with 
 one of the city dailies, as I am, you would soon find out 
 that the life of the world is very practical, and what it is 
 after is hard, money-making facts. This is an age of facts, 
 JJick, and It dbesn't care much for anything else That 
 IS the reason your book will be a failure. It is too good 
 It IS too ideal." 
 
 " Maybe it is," said Richard thoughtfully. " But look 
 here now. This newspaper world of yours doesn't know 
 the facts when it sees them. Did I ever tell you about 
 the article I sent The Daily Condenser about a month 
 ago ? I was down on Lombard street hunting up a 
 character for a story when I ran across a pitiful sight- 
 a deformed child wheeling another in a small cart. The 
 chiW m the cart was blind. The deformed boy had 
 reached a corner, when half a dozen lads ran up and 
 began to make fun of him, and finally one of them at- 
 tempted to upset the cart in the gutter. I stepped up at 
 that point and gave the youngsters a good overhauling. 
 I really forgot where I was for a while, and before I 
 knew It I was delivering an outdoor sermon to quite an 
 audience, and when I paused for breath one of the boys 
 said : My ! but aint he a corker ! ' I really felt proud 
 to receive such a high compliment from a city urchin 
 
 fu^uv^J"?"^^ ""^^^'^^ ^"*^ ^^ t^ol^ "P a collection for 
 the blind baby, and the corner groceryman donated two 
 oranges, and the last I saw of the cart it was going down 
 fn T/.ru ^'^t^^^^^-^d boy and the blind chifdboTh 
 i:'''^^%'7ll?:i^J:' •'} ^ -* °f triumphal proces- 
 "" "' " """^ ""'"«: ana wrote up the incident, tell- 
 
f 
 
 ■t' 
 
 'I- 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 XX 
 
 the point that there existed in children, even in the 
 
 struck which would respond to the proper touch. And 
 the article was returned with the comment written n blue 
 n l/'"°!f '^' ^""^^^ P"«^ °^ manuscript, ' HigMyiZ 
 
 fs your 7:aT- ""'' "''" ^'^ "^'^ ^^ ^-^^ ' A"^ t^t 
 IS your tact-loving newspaper world I " 
 
 "Tet^^ir"' '*'*''' "°'^"«^'" ^^''l Tom, unabashed, 
 of^h^lf H ''*'"'■ ''°''^- ^'" ^«" •' ^o^ yo" to any one 
 
 But why 'Z^"'^"^- ''°" ^'^"'^ «° ^o the right'one 
 cut why didnt you go into the ministry Dick? Ym, 
 would make a splendid preacher." 
 
 "I aw in the ministry." 
 
 " What I " 
 
 the'worH Sin'/" '^' '"'J'''*''^ ' ^ '"'"'^^^ of ^^'•vice to 
 we world. Isnt my profession as sacred as that of anv 
 
 man, yes, even the man that stands in a puToit Z 
 
 wr!tTng UolsTri ' ' *^" ^°"' ^-" theVofis on "o1 
 the world wi!;t"°^ -bused profession in 
 
 daysT Fnr V T^^ '"'" *"*^ books for nowa- 
 
 who reads it ? A lif.l. T !i^ t , "^ ''°°'' " »"■'""■ 
 
 ctop .hei/haL, in aZva, bt L: af?""'"''"'/"''"' 
 out by the nnhl.V ^, ^P™^/'' ""* the applause is drowned 
 
 editio^n 'li rbtkihThr n°:: t:S' ^'^°-"<^*H 
 
 duel, an assassination, two bank mhK ^ rn^sszcr^, a 
 and a family dishonor" ""''''""'' ^ <=«"«P''-acy, 
 
 seir'whf Itlasn?:'' *'' T"" ^°"^ ''^^ -" -' 
 sell, Dick and vo'h;.^ ^^°^* '" '*• I* will never 
 yourself/' "^^^ '^'^^ ^"** ^^^ the reasons for it 
 
 " It may be," replied RiVlinr^ 
 
 « ft. bi, pi,. „, n,a„u,cHp,:-"B';Th:™Trird'rb: 
 
 "**V 
 
 4? 
 
 f 
 
 ** 
 
13 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 true to my ideal in wriUng the book» true to my thought 
 of what a book ought to be. And if the story does not 
 get a pubhsher, I shall not regret the part of myself 
 that has gone into the book. It has been a cannibalistic 
 story any way. It has that sensation. It has devoured 
 a part of a man, and alive too." 
 
 Tom stared, not just comprehending the force of the 
 last remark. But he did not say anything for a moment, 
 and the two young men looked gravely at each other in 
 silence until Richard said :— 
 
 " By the way, Tom, to-day is Saturday. Let us go and 
 hear John King preach to-morrow night. I went to 
 hear him last Suaday, and he said something that made 
 me think hard all week." 
 
 ^ "I heard that sermon," said Tom a little evasively. 
 I went in my capacity as reporter to take him down 
 for the paper, but before he had spoken ten minutes I 
 was listening to him without scratching a mark. Yes 
 I'll go with you. I'd like to hear him again. Somehow 
 he did me good." 
 
 Richard looked at Tom as if waiting to hear him say 
 more, but Tom pulled out his watch, jumped up with his 
 wide-awake air. as if he had come back from a little doze 
 of unusual meditation, and exclaimed :— 
 
 "Half-past four I I must be going. If Press & Co 
 wont take the book, try Blackman Brothers. Perhaps 
 I can help you a little. But you know me. With all my 
 faults dear Dick. I never flatter-my friends. I save 
 that for my enemies. All I can say is. I hope you may 
 realize your ideal, or rather I hope other people will. I'll 
 come around to-morrow evening, and we'll go to King's 
 together. Farewell!" And Tom fled out into the hall 
 and down the dark staircase as if the spirits of the great 
 daily Press were pursuing him for " copy." 
 
 When he was gone, Richard tried to look over his 
 pages and revise son# of his work. But feeling restless 
 after his talk with his friend, he went out and strolled 
 across the river and watched the crowd, a habit of which 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 13 
 
 he never grew tired ; went into a restaurant near by 
 and dined quite heartily in honor of the new book, and 
 then went back to his dingy quarters, where he worked 
 late into the night in the laborious task of revision. A 
 neighboring clock in a church steeple warned him that 
 the week was nearly out and a new one begun. With the 
 simplicity and directness of a habit which had become 
 so true to him that the most skeptical person could not 
 have called it cant, he kneeled down by his bed and 
 prayed aloud for just what he wanted :— 
 
 " O my Master, Truth and Light of this great needy 
 world, wilt Thou not bless the book I have written ? I 
 have written it thinking of Thee many times. I have 
 desired with a true desire that it might be powerful in 
 bringing young men to the Truth. Thou knowest of how 
 much pain and weariness it is the product. .^Iso of how 
 much joy and praise it ha- been the source. Keep me 
 true to my own keen consciousness of the right. If my 
 mother is beholding me at this moment and sorrowing at 
 all because of any privation or suflFering she thinks I 
 am enduring, wilt Thou not. Thou infinite Lover of 
 souls, comfort her, and wipe every tear from her face 
 assuring her that I am happy in the love of God and the 
 sweetness of a pure life. Help me to bring Tom to 
 Thee. He does not call himself a Christian, but Thou 
 knowest if he is not very near to the kingdom in his 
 heart. If Thou wilt use me to draw him into it that he 
 may see its glories from within as well as from without 
 It shall be to me more than fame or wealth. Thou know- 
 est my heart, my blessed Master. I love Thee In the 
 sweet repose of my forgiven soul I rest this night, and 
 If I wake with Thee in Paradise or with Thee in this 
 world, I will adore Thee ever. Amen." 
 
 The two friends went to hear the famous preacher 
 the next day as agreed. There waf a crowd at the doors, 
 but thev succeeded in or*»tt<n"- ^'^-^^i ^«-4. tu- _... 
 service did not particularly impress either of *''e young 
 
ii fi' 
 
 ii 
 
 '4 
 
 RICHARD BKUCE; OR, 
 
 men. but the moment the speaker arose and gave out 
 
 ,n hU h'? '^"'' ^^'"'^ ^"'■""^ ^"^ -"« ^°°n absorbed 
 m h.8 dehvery. H,s text was "For what doth it profit 
 
 And h;« f "" u ' ^^°^' ^°^'^' ^"d ^°^^"t his life ?" 
 
 t"'//trs.«:j"^ ^^ "''' ^•■^••- ^-^-^ 
 
 stru^e' Sirf ''''T'"'' ^"' philosophical and ab- 
 struse. Richard was disappointed. He glanced at Tom 
 Tom was sm.ng in his usual careless manner and gave no 
 sign of any particular feeling. Richard turned to the 
 Peaker again, determined to follow the course of hi 
 
 o Tellv'"' T^'^ "°"^^^'"« "^^^ ^he great m^or^ 
 nL.n ,f-^? ^'^**'^"" *=°"^^ 8«t anything from such 
 Philosophical statements. The man next to him was 
 evidently a workingman. So was the man next t" h^ 
 The preacher must have some power not yet displayed^ 
 
 mJ"r ""'"''^ ''''' ^°"^^^ ^^'^ a'week beforT 
 Richard never could tell how it happened, but in a few 
 moments It seemed to him that he was 111 alone whh 
 he preacher, and he was talking to him so plainfy^et 
 so lovingly, that he knew he loved him personally. "^ ' 
 
 the bfrdtl'"?/ """^ ^^^* ^°"' temptations are in 
 
 mg temptation for getting rich in the things of this 
 
 you ani 7^ '* '^ ' ^ '"^*^"^" *^^* ^^^^ "' -<1 o- 
 hon;,tv ^''^" y°"^ fi"" f^^'in^s, your ideals of sturdy 
 honesty, your clean-cut conscience in business matters 
 upon a rocky promontory which breaks them into frag 
 ments of floating wreckage, and the first outgoing tJde 
 carnes them out into the ocean, and no one^c ^^s ou 
 
 LILaT ''''^- ^-'^ ^°"^ ^^^^'■^ -"d -" on board 
 t'on to ' ,?r' '' " '° '°'"'"°"- Next to the tempta 
 t.on to yield o passion, this is the most terrible enemy 
 of your soul in this age-the losing sight of the divSe 
 
 yolZuZ: ''"' *'^ '"" °^ ^°- <?-" '^-wledge with 
 yourself that you are a Son of God. I recall now a crisis 
 
 str't^t 7 ^"'"^ °^ '"•"^ ^"" ^^'^'^ '" that bitter 
 
 struggle for existence which so many young men experi- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 IS 
 
 ence, and where so many of them make wreck of the 
 divme image. The opportunity came to him to make a 
 vast sum of money by a technical deceit which would not 
 have injured a single person in reputation or property, 
 so far as he could judge, except himself. J remember 
 the struggle he had with what he afterward called his 
 upper conscience.' He had Uved all his life in embar- 
 rassmg poverty. At that very time he was in great 
 financial distress. It seemed to him that he must have 
 money. But something in him assured him that if he 
 yielded to that deception ,he would lose something in 
 himself of immortal value. He resisted. The opportunity 
 went by, never to return. The money was forever lost to 
 lum, but he saved his life. Not one business man in a 
 thousand would have blamed him if he had yielded 
 Most men would have called him a fool for letting such a 
 rare chance go by. But I remember the look on his face 
 as he told me of his struggle, and it was the face of an 
 angel ; it was the same look which Jesus Christ might 
 have worn when he told the devil to get behind him after 
 offering him the kingdoms of this world if he would but 
 fall down and worship him. He walked the streets next 
 day like a prince. He felt as if he could look God in the 
 face and say to Him. ' My soul is pure.even in Thy sight, 
 Most Holy One.' That man is a poor man to-day. His 
 struggle has continued up to the present moment. But 
 If you find a happier man in this great city of suffering 
 and opulence it will be somebody who has fought the 
 same kind of a battle for the immortal jewel of his spot- 
 lessnesE, and come off victorious. O, all young life be 
 fore me now. ye hardly tempted ones, ye clerks and hard- 
 handed workingmen, do not trample the ideal in you out 
 of sight in the coarse competition for the better physical 
 life For what doth it profit a man, to gain the whole 
 
 7l! : ' !r'^''^ ^'' "^' •' "r^^* ''■ J'f^ '■" the sense 
 of divinity. You have all felt it, that stirring in you. when, 
 as If the heavens parted, you saw into the crinr.Vc «f it,.^ 
 other world, and beheld then what the standard of life 
 
i6 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "V 
 
 really was. To live as God would live if He were a man- 
 is not that what we are here for ? And if that means to 
 us a life o constant struggle, of devils in the wilderness, 
 of unpopularity with the leaders of society, of nights ot 
 prayer upori the mountain, of days of weariness beside" 
 the sick and sinful, of desertion in Gethsemane, of trial 
 before the world, yea. of crucifixion, amidst execration 
 and mdignity and insult, what though it means all that?- 
 «t shall also mean to us the Resurrection and Ascension 
 and glory m the realms of light and love forever. For 
 every Calvary there is a Paradise. For every devil over- 
 come there is a ministering angel ; for every tear a 
 jewel in the cr,j,wn ; for every loss here a compensating 
 gam hereafter. O men. brothers, made in the God-image 
 fight for your .deaJs I Live life in the right proportions. 
 Don t be enthusiastic over the things that ure not worth 
 It. Measure the value of money and ease and good rai- 
 ment and houses and lands and fame and popularity and 
 honors given by men, with the value of a pure Mfe an 
 existence of service, a forgiven soul, an immortal progress 
 
 'p'^^'i*" u-^'"""*^' ^ ^"''y companionship with God. 
 For the things which are seen are temporal ; but the 
 things which are not seen are eternal.' Eternal ! The 
 life the human race has lived on this old globe is but a 
 microscop c mote dancing Into a sunbeam and dancing 
 out again compared with the life to which we give that 
 awful title 'eternal.' Say that to-morrow yonr soul shall 
 be ushered mto that condition where only t„e spiritual 
 part of you shall be conscious. How conscious would it 
 be of the great, great love and sinlessness of God ?" 
 
 This IS but a fragment of the sermon, which closed 
 with a tende. appeal to all that was most tioble and 
 aspiring in m.^ to live the upper life of the Master, the 
 i)on of man. i, • .-^^ audience was moved deeply. It 
 Zm"V "'^''' ■'.•^n,..ge as the n^an that stirred 
 then^ It was ■',, c. .b.uon of a V .rt which had been 
 caught up into . v::>- tc.e and tru. companionship with 
 spiritual reaJities, and had then been compelled by the 
 
 ^.'S 
 
'\ 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 17 
 
 Rirl,ard :,nd Tom discussed the man, not the sermon 
 
 ar hey walked toward Richard's room Tom wa evl' 
 
 derrtly more than usually touched. As the Two carted 
 
 at the foot of the office block. Tom said :-! ^ ^ 
 
 ^^ I would like to believe as that man does." 
 
 Except ye become as little children ye cannot 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven/ " replied Rkhard " I 
 suspect the secret of Kmg's belid is right there » H 
 wanted to say more to Tom. but the time did Tot sefm 
 ju t nght for u. and he said good night and went up to 
 his lonely room. Each remembered afterward that th^ 
 sermon had driven out of their minds 1 onversltion 
 about the new book. The next morning RicSIrTt'ok 
 h.s manuscript and started out to find a publ she 
 
i8 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ^' cLlsT"^ '^'"' ' ^ ^'''' °^""'°'"' *^" world.-Jesus 
 
 takel a'Joadt* 77 ""''"""^ '^'"^ *° ^^"- ^ farmer 
 takes a oad of potatoes or wheat into town and goes to 
 
 the market and says to the buyer : " How mu?h w 11 
 you g,ve me fo'r my load ?" Or he goes 7o Tome m 
 di'^p"::: "^^2 rr\-:'^^^ are flwa^s" ^ught r d 
 
 SnlH . ^^"^ "^''^ '^^ "'■^^'"ty that comes from 
 
 having done the same thin^ many times before 
 
 But a book is a very different thing. The averaee 
 author ,s not at all sure of his market. He cannot wafk 
 into a publisher's office and «v • " w . 
 
 giving for books toTay ?"' He L', . T """'^ "' ^°" 
 
 With that big bundle, and ;h?t-busitttV;:uT 
 
 abs^Lrno^CaTtoV' '""l r'"^'^^" ^^ ^-- 
 before the pubhc It Lo^ .! T^°^' °^ «^**'"» ^ book 
 ward, mnfy way to wl . "" *'' ^''"'^' ^^^^i^htfor- 
 lished boot r„d tell th mTha h" ^°/ '"" ^'^^^ P"''' 
 like to have it orin ed n ^ ^^"^ °"' ^"^ would 
 
 he did thllVmrswe, '"''"" °' ^'^ ^^^ '" -^'^'^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 19 
 
 u i*,r?/^l^™ Blackman Brothers, to which Tom 
 had alluded. The senior member of the firm was seated at 
 a desk, writing, as Richard went in. 
 
 " Is this Mr. Blackman ? " asked Richard. 
 unkiiS^'" '^^^'^"^ ^^^ °^^ gentleman, looking up, not 
 
 "I have a book to sell. Or rather a book I would 
 hte to have published," said Richard, coming at once to 
 me point, and knowing you to be a publisher of this 
 kind of material, I have come to see if you would buy my 
 book and publish it." 
 
 The old man laid down his pen, wheeled about in his 
 chair, and looked at Richard keenly. At one glance he 
 seemed to include the shabby overcoat, the stalwart 
 figure within rt, the brave, dignified look on the face of 
 the young man whose eye looked directly into his own 
 
 seat "Ji7l '!f r"^ ^.°°'''" '"'^ ^' "'^'•"P^^y- " Take a 
 down *'^"*^^'* °^" the manuscript and sat 
 
 The publisher glanced at the title-page, at the short 
 
 e vtrVr " '""T^ °"''" '^' P^S^^ ^ ^°"" -t a time. 
 tT^A l"" ^"^^P^^hensive glances. Richard anxiously 
 
 Suddeni r\ ?". ^'" ^'"''^'^ "° «'^"^ °f Reeling 
 Suddenly he looked up and said with the same abrupl 
 
 " This is your first book." 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 som7rer.":?"' ^^" "^ "' ' '"°^ '' ^«"' '^ '^- 
 
 ''Thank you. sir," said Richard, flushing up a little. 
 
 But It will not sell. It is not popular. Besides it is 
 
 Ht wo'uld'b '\r 'r '°"^ ^° '^y -' ^"* the ^ 
 
 lt;empMfpubli:h."'"'^^ °" °^ ''' ^"^^^^- ^- - ^° 
 
 matlf or t '"''/J °5'u: "' ^"^ *^ P^°"<^ t° "'•^e ^he 
 thf::::!r. ?!?"1.^^ ^*-^- ^e quitely gathered up 
 
 "I thank ypu. sir, for your courtesy and for the time 
 
20 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 you have given me;" and walked out. Mr. Blackman 
 looked after him, seemed on the - .>int of calling him 
 back, hesitated, shook his head, and finally wheeled 
 about m his chair and resumed his writing 
 
 If Richard had only known it, he had accomplished, 
 even though he had been defeated in his main object, a 
 leat which more experienced authors seldom succeeded 
 m accomplishing, namely, he had succeeded in getting 
 he elder member of the firm of Blackman Brothers to 
 . look at his manuscript, and that was more than he had 
 done for many promising and well-known authors If 
 a new book came in it was generally submitted to a 
 reader, who passed judgment on it, and with his ap- 
 proval or disapproval it passed into the hands of the 
 nrm tor final acceptance or rejection 
 
 But of all this Richard was ignorant. His experiences 
 throughout the day were varied. But the result of them 
 was all the same ; no one wanted to publish his book. 
 It was a dull season for publishing, or the book was 
 unfortunate with its title ; or it was not popular. At any 
 rate, he felt that the day had been a failure and he carried 
 the manuscnpt honie with a little sinking at heart and 
 a feeling that possibly he had mistaken his business in 
 ife. His room looked cheerless and cold. He placed 
 the manuscript on the table and walked up and down 
 
 but did not feel hke sitting down. He was suffering from 
 the reaction following the production of his story It 
 had been the work of eight months' most intense appli- 
 
 'on.?; . /' ^r^ *°'^ °" ^'"^ ^" «P't« °^ ^ splendid 
 constitution familiar with much real hardship 
 
 But now a genuine trouble seemed to be ahead of him 
 He had no money left to pay his rent or get any food.' 
 His college debts were in such shape that they could wait 
 
 !L?;.? r'"°''%'I''^°? i"^''"P *° ""y ^"^- Meanwhile he 
 must live. There had been a small sum saved from his 
 old home at the death of his mother, and after paying out 
 what wa* owed by the family, Richard had enough left 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 21 
 
 to support himself meagerly for six or seven months. 
 He had at once attacked the work of writing his book. 
 He was rather singularly placed. With the exception 
 of his old college chum Tom, he had no acquaintances 
 in Chicago. His old home had been in one of the newer 
 smaller western places, a hundred miles from the city. 
 He had come to the city feeling that the materials for his 
 story lay there and he must be near them. And with all 
 ».•-<». enthusiasm of his healthful nature he had put into his 
 first effort the best of himself. He had expanded his 
 ability regardless of cost. His book really did contain, 
 as he had told Tom, a good part of himself. 
 
 But now the question stared him in the face, " How 
 am I going to live ? " It was not a new question to 
 Richard, but it came to him at that particular crisis with 
 a new meaning. He had a strong body, a good intellect, 
 was possessed of more than ordinary ability, was of un- 
 questioned Christian moral character, and yet he was 
 conscious that he stood alone, or nearly so, in a city of 
 a million people, who would not care if he starved to 
 death ; and he had just ten cents in his pocket, and his 
 rent, five dollars a month, would be due Saturday night, 
 and he had not the remotest idea of how he could earn 
 five dollars, or half that sum. 
 
 Let the comfortable, well-to-do, well-fed, and clothed 
 man or woman blame Richard Bruce for getting into 
 the condition in which we now find him ; let them say he 
 might have avoided it by teaching school for a year or 
 two, until he had earned a little money ; let them say he 
 was a fool to suppose that he could live on books ; let 
 them say he was suffering from his own lack of common 
 sense or good judgment or want of thrift and shrewd- 
 ness,— the fact remains that he was in this condition of 
 poverty ; and as he walked up and down in the gathering 
 dusk of his bare room that evening and reviewed his life 
 since leaving collepe he found no condemnation of him- 
 self in his breast. 
 
 "I did what I believed I ought to do." he said to 
 
22 
 
 RICIIARI) BRUCE; OR, 
 
 himself stoutiv " TI.,>r„ : 
 
 book Itwasjustil,;:^,, ifn"",i° ^?'' *h« 
 a« a foreign missionary to Africa '< n 5?" <=^"«d ' 
 the Gospel from a p«Ip t A^'i t^ T "'^ *° ^'""^'^ 
 worst comes to the wo sfi ..^ , ^'"^ '° ^^^^ '^- " 
 on the street. O my Father 1' To- 1' '°'"'"°" ^^b^*-" 
 
 of his meditation ;;no a" ayer'cod'f' '"^''"^ °"* 
 1 do love Thee ! I believeTnl' Ti °/ ""^ '"°"'«'" ' 
 
 do trust Tliec I cLT ^''"" *''^ ''«='P ^e I I 
 
 will give i I ba^k to TheT""^' "'' "•^'°'" -- ^ 
 given me everytHif,.\rri I^^ Thl^^T'- '^- 
 
 Hi^rs::^t^:-:-3::^-rf'^r-^-° 
 
 have overcome the world r ^°°^ '^"'' ' ^ 
 
 sn^i^^utrhrradtot^t "'"^ ;'^ ^-^-"*« °^ a- 
 
 and waking early determiSi ? '°, '''' '°°"^ ^''^^ noon. 
 & Company, a place ,TT^ '"'''' "" ""'^'"P* «» Pres 
 throngh^'^ran'g fe , ''' r' T^"/^'' *° ^PP^°-h. 
 The house was the 1 rg ^t ,n1 mT. ?'"^°^". "°^"'>'- 
 and although he had the firmest bo i ^'"^"u '" '^' '^^' 
 power of his own M^ll f . ''^^ '" ^^"^ ^^1"^ and 
 
 -cito.bnr:;i:rirrr-i^^ 
 
 C'sivel ' ^^^::^;J^'^r''"'''^^^ de. 
 at a neighboring restaurant r ^'"'"^^ " ^"^ ^^ ^°ffee 
 to get his manu^crT; Ar'his'd:'"*, '^'^'^ *° '^'^ -°- 
 writing a card and tackin J Z T '" ^^""^ "r""" J"«t 
 " r««j tacKmg It on the m ddle nanoi 
 
 „ J ^°°^ '"^^"■nfi:. King Bruce ! " cried Ta^ , 
 
 I was just about to leavt- mv . a \ ^^ gravely, 
 with me to-day. look It ^! ^u^ f"'^ ^'^ ^^^ '^ d'"e 
 fastened the card to the door \ °^ '"^ ' " ^"^ ^om 
 laneous list of eatables mnJ ^°'"''^ *° ^ '"'««!- 
 
 were '' canvas-back dk tenn'""'"'"^ ^"°"« ^^ich 
 nest, and nightingales" tn„^'" '°"^' ^^'"^«« bird's 
 Richard laughed 'It T"'"'^ ^° "'"^''=-" 
 
 accept. Wait fin I put on ^'7 '"' ^'•^'■^* P'^^^"'-^ to 
 J put on my dress suit, will you 7- ■■ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 23 
 
 And he reached inside the door, pulled down his old 
 overcoat, which hung on a nail near by, and struggled 
 into It, while Tom helped him with mock gravity, as if 
 he had been some rc^al personage. 
 
 "And how about the book?" he asked, abruptly 
 changmg his manner to a serious tone. 
 
 "Trn going to take it to Press & Company," replied 
 Richard, going into the room for his manuscript. He 
 came out with it. locked his door, and on the way down- 
 stairs with Tom, related his experiences of the day 
 before. 
 
 "Just as I told you. Too high up. Won't sell. But 
 you must get the book into the hands of the readers. 
 Now I happen to know Press a little. In fact he as a 
 distant relative of Uncle Joe, of whom you have heard me 
 speak ; and I might have a little political influence with 
 him, just enough to prevent our being kicked out of the 
 office you understand," explained Tom with a gesture of 
 conciliation. 
 
 " I shall be glad of any honorable assistance to get 
 the manuscript into the hands of a good publisher" 
 replied Richard, a little formally. 
 
 Tom looked at him quizzically as they walked along 
 You wouldn't take any help from anybody if you 
 could help it, would you ?" ^ j y 
 
 " It's my weak point ; very true. But I would take a 
 favor from you, Tom, and you know it very well " 
 
 "Would you," asked Tom, a little doubtfully. 
 
 Would you take money ? " 
 " Not unless I needed it pretty badly." 
 "Whatdoyoumeanby 'pretty badly'? Starving to 
 death and at your last gasp ? " growled Tom, who never 
 had much patience with Richard on the point of accepting 
 a loan from a friend. Richard didn't believe in it never 
 had practiced it, and had strong views on the subject. 
 Tom borrowed of everybody who would lend to him 
 
 paid up when he had <t ^nji - - • - 
 
 maf*»..» 11" V, ' ■ """^ '""-J^ '-■^^y ^"'i money 
 
 matters generally. He. was beginning to get good pay 
 
24 
 
 KICIIARD UKUCE: OR, 
 
 to buy :,; IJ^:^^,:,:-,^::-'"^ I would send ^^^ 
 
 wager aJ /v tori,/! rtl" / ^^'""'^' '^^ -""'« '^ 
 enough i„ your po e ,n to 1 *''^'' T '''''''' ^""-'^ 
 
 finances. *^ '' ''* ''''' ^^atc of I.is friend's 
 
 puiS^o^t: -j::!" ^^' ^^^ '-^ "^-^ - »- pocket .u. 
 
 pose it would ?^Vi-^^^oinL ""'"i' '^ '"'"^^'f' ^ -'P" 
 Ton, with a modi i" " a.r ^.'V^r'^^'^ °^ ^«^'*'" -P'-d 
 he asked, after a pause ^""^ '^^^ ''''^'^ ? " 
 
 r« i ^."'" ^^''' Richard simply. " No " h. -^ ■ 
 reply to a sympathetic movement of T ^ 'V^' "' 
 need any J,elp from vou tuT °\7°'" s. " I don't 
 
 after we dispose o this" and 7"'- • ^''" '"^^ '^ ^^'^ 
 script. *^ ""'' ""^ '"^ Po>nted to the manu- 
 
 nearest policeman to arre t RicllrH "^ °^ summonsing the 
 having him locked up an J U en fl°" Y'^. ^^ ''^"'^"''v. 
 tion that he go into iourn. ""''"^ °"'^ °" "^^^di- 
 
 publisher's office J°"'^"''»''«'". when they reached the 
 
 " Here we are," said Richard » wtu 
 me ? " K'uiard. WjII you introduce 
 
 "Yes," muttered Tom. "I'll inf-^j 
 stubborn, high-souled '"Produce you as the most 
 
 Princely-'naturet "c^ttgi^rcrt^f '1 "•^■^"'^^' 
 
 "I'll stand out in the h.n !^ '" ^'""'^^•" 
 well out of the Jai and h ^ TH ''' ''^'"^^'^^^ -« 
 Richard soberly. " ^" ^°'"e in," replied 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 as 
 
 Tom grinned, but said, " Come on. I'll do it hand- 
 somely. But you arc the most exasperating man in the 
 world to deal with sometimes." 
 
 Mr. Press was in. He would see the young gentlemen. 
 ihey were ushered into a comfortably furnished little 
 room which opened from the larger front office. Mr 
 Frcss was a pleasant-faced gentleman of sixty, well pre-* 
 served, and with a very strong and even handsome 
 contour. He greeted Tom heartily, as if he had met him 
 before ; shook hands with Richard as Tom introduced 
 him and motioned the young men to scats. 
 
 You see, Mr. Press." began Tom. with the abruptness 
 
 111 I u'^°'^'' ''y'"' " ""y °'^ <=°"«8« f"o.,d has 
 gone and written a book and he wants a publisher. He 
 doesn t want anything for the book ; in fact he would feel 
 hurt If you offered him anything for it ; but all he wants 
 IS tne glory, the ad astra per aspera, you know " 
 
 Mr Press smiled at Tom's outburst, but he did not 
 reply to it. and Richard spoke up. 
 
 hooL^^R^'^"'^.'' 1"'*' "^''* ^'"'"* '"y ''^^'"K written a 
 
 though T r ° '^" ''''' ^ '"" "°^ «° '""• It ••« true, 
 though, that my greatest longing is to have the book 
 
 published and read. I would be much gratified if it could 
 JJZ^W.^ r^''' ''^''""^'^ this well-known house." 
 himself, hard as it was for him to beg even for justice 
 and said .-' ^""" ^"'^""^ ' ''"''* ''"* '"'^""^ «>^""^ 
 
 " I see you have the manuscript with you. If you 
 will submit It to us for examination, we can let you know 
 our decision within a week." 
 
 Richard didn't know what to say to this. He stam- 
 Co" °"* ' 7.'^"' ^°"" '' -- rather uS 
 
 rearthVnuhr h'.''^^; '" ''^ '^""^" *° ««* the book 
 read, the publisher's oflfer sounded almost like a purchase 
 
 a^Jre r tH ^'l' "'° ' ^*""^' discussion'of lite" 
 ature. in which he showed himself to h^ thnr i,i„ .j 
 
 home. The two yoitng men were delighted with his con- 
 
26 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ,-•«;■• ti'.': '™wef """^ °' "'^'^ ^^"y ««r. 
 
 reason han becatf rt J„ !'^'' """i^'""' '<" "■' o">" 
 word 'ntcessS'Tsare „,' ?' ""''"""''• ' «"' ">= 
 
 " I agree „hh T^rp X *" SM T'^ !;'«"•" 
 drop in again, Mr Br„« „ abt„f 1 ^1 "'^" ^''° 
 script. Yes, you may leave if here 7^1°' '*"■""""■ 
 will send the mtnuserint f„ ^°°^ mominj. I 
 
 .heto wir::,""" -'^ -- —ber in the blocic, and 
 
 Tom™"o'„rarthe!"te°r'e"""' ""•" '*'*"■"" ""ed 
 "I thint i, i ^ ' °"" ""^ on the sidewallt 
 
 .he mat'rir TIZTrT^ ^l^' ""^^^ 
 decision." ^ ™" •■» honest in his 
 
 wi/rSve'yorsomethL ,^^ '" *' '>■■" "■» "ook he 
 a •housanJ doZ rd iik'r 'V"'""'' "'""• " /<"" get 
 "Five hundred tI. I *'°"'°" ' hnndred." 
 
 .rying4rd,o ;i;elt;r''-r'"™''' «■>"«' R'^h^d, 
 feeling hoperul,Th:d'ltt^--,f-"'<'^-.help 
 
 ^uZtTpLro^l-Lr ^°°^' *-^- •<• -'^S 
 
 mendation whieh he 3d T "^^r"' ""''' ""= ""- 
 worlc. And why sho™ 1^7 man k' '""' "^ "■"'' 
 sood thing when he doeat himlrf "^""" °' =■ 
 some one else does it ' H. i^j , '' ™" ^' "he" 
 "tter poverty. He seen,M ! """"^"""S forgetting his 
 people buying Jd ^^^ j^" «= "■= "ook ,in print and 
 
 -dit!L:^.:fhavei4:c;;rpTe''ro^„st„ttr': 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 37 
 
 week, at least, and meanwhile, how are you goiaig to live 
 on a nickel ? The financial question is the question of 
 the hour, Dick. What you need is more silver." 
 
 "Tom," said Richard, slowly, "I'm in a peculiar 
 situation. You know how proud I am on this point, but 
 I am going to say this : if you will let me board with 
 you until I get some work, or until the fate of the book 
 is decided, I will accept that help from you as frankly and 
 whole-heartedly as if we were brothers ; and I won't 
 offer to pay it back, either." he continued. 
 
 Tom gave him a look of relief. " AU right. I woui't 
 dun you for it. But what are you going to do ?" 
 
 "I have a plan," said Richard thvjughtfully, "and 
 I II let you know it if it succeeds. At any rate I shall 
 not starve, with your help and the body that God gave 
 me. Where do all these people get a living ? How do 
 these men that we pass in. this great stream pi humanity 
 keep body and soul together ?" 
 
 "Some of 'em don't," replied Tom. "See that man I " 
 The man he pointed at was seated on a coal wagon 
 which had stopped just at the comer of the street, owing 
 to a momentary blockade of street traffic. He was 
 dressed in what had once been a very cheap and shoddy 
 suit of clothes, but nearly all semblance to a suit had 
 vanished and the man sat there on the load of coal 
 literally wrapped about with indescribably dirty rags 
 Notwithstanding the cold, raw day, the man had nothing 
 «i«cker than a torn blouse thrown over his under coat 
 He was shivering and crouching upon the coal in a 
 dejected heap. A glance at him was all that was necessary 
 to show that he had consumption. As Tom and Rich- 
 ard paused near the crossing to wait for a stream of 
 wagons to flow on, the man coughed terribly and gath- 
 ered his few tattered rags about his breast and throat. 
 His face was g!.astly. His whole manner showed un- 
 mistakably that he was a victim marked by Death for a 
 near conquest. 
 
 Richard pulled oflF his overcoat, hamded it up to the 
 
 ■'*# 
 
38 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ^■ 
 
 man, who sat near enough so that he could touch him 
 and sa.d with an indescribably sweet and loving grace •- 
 
 Yoi^nlJT^""' '"u" 'i'' ^" '^' "^""^ °f humanity. 
 You need at more than I do. It is all I have to give 
 
 The man was so stupefied by the words and act that 
 
 lookr;; '"^ ' ^°'''' °"'y '°°^«d -' Richard as one 
 looks who just awakes out of a dream. Richard seized 
 
 tweTn%r Th','""^' ''''" °"^ -^° 'he street and be 
 tween the vehicles and over to the other side of the 
 crossing, w Uhout looking back. As they wa Led a o^g 
 somethmg like a tear glittered in TnJ-c *"'^°^^'°"5' 
 growled at Richard :- "" ' '^"' ''"' ^e 
 
 "Now that was a sensible thing to do wasn't it ? 
 Don't you know that the surest way to pauperize h! 
 masses s to yield to our feelings and gve things o the 
 poor without teaching them how to remove Th'eirpov 
 college." " '''^ '" °"^ ^^'^'^^^^ ^-tures'Tn , 
 
 ^:: inT %z tH ^^^ ^° -- -p -" 
 
 Don't talk of it any more, Tom. My heart ache, 
 Richard paused abruptly. 
 
 ■« * • ... \ n •.. . . 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 29 
 
 " There goes John King. See that, will you ? " The 
 two paused to look at a little scene which only them- 
 . selves and a policeman, apparently, were conscious of. 
 A little crippled girl had come up to the curb of the 
 crossing and was waiting for a chance to cross over. 
 The great preacher had come up at the same moment. 
 , He looked down at the wan, diminutive little figure with 
 the crutch, then stooped and picked her up and carried 
 her across the street, set her dowiii, gave her a smile that 
 had the sunshine of God in it, and went his way, his tall 
 form the most conspicuous of all in the ceaseless throng 
 that hurried up and down. The incident was a simple one. 
 It was only one out of a thousand in that busy thorough- 
 fare, but it had a grace of its own. It was like a rose 
 from a bridal procession dropped into a muddy street 
 and picked up by one of the children of the people. 
 
 "If any other man had done that, I should have felt 
 like thinking it was done for effect," remarked Tom. 
 
 "John King is a genuine man. I wish he were a 
 friend of mine," said Richard. 
 
 " Do you suppose he ever had any temptations ? He 
 talked last Sunday night as if he knew all about it." 
 Tom asked the question rather carelessly, but Richard 
 could detect a real interest in it. 
 
 "I've heard that his personal history is as remark- 
 able as Paul's. But I never heard what it was. Shall we 
 go to hear him again next Sunday ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I don't care if we do. But my work takes 
 me down to the lake side this morning. I turn down here. 
 Can't you go along ? Well, I'll meet you at the boarding- 
 house at one. Don't forget to order nightingales' tongues 
 for two." And Tom shot oH at a right angle, going 
 down the street with a swinging gait that betokened 
 perfect and superabundant health. 
 
 " Dear old Tom I " thought Richard to himself. " If 
 he had a personal Christian faith he would be diflferent in 
 many ways. And yet he has the true moral graces now. 
 Vvhat a splendid foundation for the higher structure." 
 
 '^''-*Z PROPERTY OF 
 
 drCARbORO 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
30 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 coming du/auh" end oXw!L'„r„!,''' "' "'' ""' 
 it troubled him. He knew ,h,. x , ""'^ '" P"' 
 
 »nd .hare his roomUh Tim LTT/""" ,"■"= *""■ '" 
 wished ,„ kee, hi, o^'rol'. ,'. rwru'lroT'n'' 
 sat down and went over iiio • "'• ^^ 
 
 hours he co„,rord',r;hi'; ,e;.pr:!d"'^aT,a f" 'Z 
 
 ;o _arrive a. a de«„Ue conciusi/n'^vt Hi'do rhe 
 
 gales' tongues by sa,to'.h.V.^ " °' ""' "'«'"'»- 
 
 them, they had theT^ "''^. ""' «'="'"« "'"l of 
 
 ■h. good L^btr'ra^^o-^VoTL'^S'nd' "" "'* 
 ality he forbore questioning him about Ws plans „r"°"u' 
 They separated after a hurried meal and KioL^°* 
 
 O'clock Sir-" -™^'- «> -« To^ar S?sr 
 
 Richard Bre'merwt"^"^" "■™«'- "■= "-«»• 
 had ius. pass:5 by1he"oL: of thr^er'c'r 't "^ 
 
 rgl.rrrCl'ereT''''^"""*"^^"'- 
 i-t begun in nX::;to^TT\:%'''T:' '''''' 
 was sensational. There eameTnf p \ i ' °' "" ''"^'y 
 
 went on, a liWe chat he hZ -T '''"''' '"'"<'• =' he 
 > » jituc «,nat ne nad with one nf Tr>.>,'^ „ 
 
 antes one day when they had all Zl J ^''^"^'"t- 
 together at the same restaurant TV ^^^'"'^ *° ^'"^ 
 mentioned The Weekly Co '-f" ^'' ^^^"aintance had 
 
 certain sensationaimeraturTof ? "'^'"""^ ^^^^^ ^- 
 style, and told them of a " "ry of hST '''" °''''"^'^ 
 by The Comet for whVh i u . "^^ ^"'* ^"^^P^^d 
 dollars. ^''^'^ *^'y ^^d paid twenty-five 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 3, 
 
 book?" The LesfionT r/°'"*' ""^" ^ "" ««'' '"X 
 burned there He had o^ie '"'°/i<=hard's mind and 
 the college paper \tf!l . ? '" '"'"'«"' ^^''« editor of 
 of a sen^tionai; "e?^;^ ;:,r ^ °^ «<='-" which was 
 The publisher ofTwdl knot^ TT'^' wonderfully, 
 had chanced to see the s orv !, I''".''""'" °^ ^•^"^'"'•e 
 to en,nire who Te amho Z'as" R th "h""" '° ^'^''"^ 
 the question, and never wrre.no/.'^ ""'" ^"^^^^^^ 
 kind, feeling that it wLTh " ''°''^ °^ ^^e same 
 
 But now the hou^h^ X f "«^^^°"« P^^er to possess, 
 gift to provide foJ hi! ctua nh " '^' ""^'^^ ^'^^^ ^^^ 
 upon him and woLdl^LTet aside'' "l^ "7^ ^" 
 impossible that he sho.,M ! " ^^* absolutely 
 
 suddenly felt capable n? T'' ""^''^'"^ ''^d, but he 
 story such a The Weekly ^^" '°"^'-^"' ^^"^^^'^'^l 
 
 He had the al^^erToon LSe'h m"° h' ^r^' 
 which he had mapped out in .S "'•' ^^^^ ^^'^ ^ork 
 till the next day for it« ^ """'"'"^ <=°"ld wait 
 
 whether his Jll wJu Id^^^S?" d"T ^°"^^ '^^ ^«" 
 himself to earn som*. m^ . "^ '^^ "°t owe it to 
 
 be the harm^hTw^ra^L^t rSh' T' ^°"'^ 
 't were highly sensational p'^nld Jlf °''^"'' '"'" " 
 written just such stories ? ^ ^'^^* *"thors 
 
 which was f'und:d m n y'u^on t?e""'"l°' ^ ^*°^^ 
 previous trial in college But ,> ""'' °^ '^'^ 
 structed. and was practSv !" ?.' '"^'''''y ^^^o"" 
 than the other. ThTm ^^J^:/;;? J" 7^ thrilling 
 frenzy he wrote for four houJs Bur.: '""^ !." " '°" °^ 
 "lore time to finish. He rememh. Tu^ "'"^'^ ^ '»">« 
 dinner with Tom, anrwenr^ . 7 "^ u " P''°'"»«^ *« ^ake 
 back at once, and wrote o",.^. / ^"* ^' ""'^ 
 
f 
 
 .# 
 
 }^' 
 
 32 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 mental strength, and would not be able to write anything 
 worth while again for several days. When he completed 
 the story he was so tired that he threw himself down on 
 his bed without undressing and slept until eight o'clock. 
 When he read over his manuscript in the morning he 
 was astonished at himself. He placed the paper in an 
 envelope, wrote his address on it, and took it to the office 
 of The Comet. He handed it in with the request that 
 if the story was not accepted he did not care to have the 
 manuscript returned— in fact he had no stamps to leave 
 with it— and then he walked out feeling almost guilty of 
 something - wicked. And yet he had only written an 
 exceedingly exciting story, which a person who had once 
 begun would never drop until the last word was reached. 
 And he was absolutely destitute, in debt, and suffering 
 for clothing. 
 
 He took breakfast with Tom, and then started out at 
 once for the river and was gone the rest of the day. He 
 came back at dark and seemed uncommonly tired, thor- 
 oughly exhausted, in fact. Tom was curious to know 
 what he had found to do, but Richard said with a smile 
 that he would tell him in time, and with that Tom was 
 satisfied. What Richard was doing we cannot reveal 
 just yet. Enough to say that every night he came in to 
 a late dinner with Tom and each da> bore the marks of 
 some exceedingly hard work. 
 
 When Sunday night came it found Tom and Richard 
 in the church of John King's parish. There was the 
 same immense audience of all sorts of people, the same 
 strained, eager attention to the preacher's sermon, the 
 same impression of his personality upon the audience. 
 
 His text was : " Be of good cheer; I have overcome 
 
 the world." And Richard started as he recalled the 
 
 echo of those very words in his own heart the past week. 
 
 " It was the same world then as now," said the 
 
 preacher, as his loving, earnest glance swept his audi- 
 
 ence^ 
 
 
 saiTic WOriU. 
 
 
 were P.in and sickness 
 
 and sorrow and heartache and temptation and loneliness 
 
<*? 
 
 ite anything 
 i completed 
 ;1{ down on 
 ght o'clock, 
 morning he 
 paper in an 
 to the office 
 request that 
 to have the 
 ips to leave 
 3st guilty of 
 written an 
 ho had once 
 was reached, 
 id suffering 
 
 :arted out at 
 he day. He 
 tired, thor- 
 )us to know 
 with a smile 
 at Tom was 
 innot reveal 
 2 came in to 
 the marks of 
 
 and Richard 
 lere was the 
 )le, the same 
 sermon, the 
 t audience, 
 ive overcome 
 recalled the 
 le past week. 
 <N," said the 
 ept his audi- 
 
 tnA 
 
 nlfTl* 
 
 nd loneliness 
 
 /HE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 33 
 
 since Te.,i« «f It ? ^^ '^°'''*^ ^^^ not changed 
 
 of the ag. has chang d the Ur d on,'"""'',? ^'°^''' 
 
 .his „,s the worid ^rove^me The '" u'T^ ^"'' 
 dty. Brother, you have h,r "T ''°. '' °' ""'' ""'s; 
 You are poor you are L^.11 V""'"'"'" ""' ""k. 
 cry for b?ead Tour sL retl 7' ""[' "' "'"' """ 
 
 ctr-^: •™'' «™°-"turchr- "Te?, ,r:d' 
 
 you"; /:as°™A„7Vl'" ""'^- ™= -"•« --Ma 
 where ,0 hy Hi, head H. „ni ''°°/-"""- "= '■'<' ■"" 
 waked to find His earn,!/ i ,'"' " °" "■" "'■'^'- ^n-f 
 He was tempted a, fll Z,^ r,* """' "">""'"" >"i^'- 
 faced Him i„ His !,„"/„, u ''*'' "' "' "•'■ The devil 
 
 power to crea."re,::e"d ,°Jmrh;ea"d',"rj''°,d'''' '"' 
 Is rt nothing that He who had ,h, nV , ".'''''^™«»- 
 Men say i, „as „o crediTto Jesus Chrirr "■ " "'°" ' 
 
 rn^trus?' z dr?" -" -^ -^s:; 
 
 He might have gl ned L H^'2' '." '™»'»«on ? What 
 His surrender of th.L His superior person He lost hy 
 
 overeame the wo H ' ThiL" ,*r,"' """' "• ^"0 «' 
 years old a, «.e u mostf 4 Lu. a cent f"'" "'"^-"■"' 
 o«. an acre of land; without a Uu. to liyTTn'"' "'"- 
 lenng preacher; a native „f , !°,L , f ! ■' ? "'"" 
 most powerful roilitarv m.-i,-" " 7, suMuca by the 
 
 o. His own .eathrs-?:i:„' - r.-^^ 'wi;' 
 
 / 
 
i„ 
 
 I 
 
 ( ^'iM? 
 
 34 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 the rich and powerful His enemies ; with the certain 
 betrayal by one of His own disciples ; with the cross 
 looming up in His prophet's vision — He, despised and 
 rejected of men, rose into full manhood's height, and said, 
 with a certainty and calmness that astonish the world, 
 ' Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world I' 
 
 " And He said it that we might have courage. Ah, the 
 heartache of the brambly wilderness through which we 
 vearily sometimes stumble! The poor and despairing; 
 the crippled and ugly; the uncared-for and forgotten I 
 The world I That commingled ball of evil, the devil's 
 own, sometimes it seems, and he kicks it before him 
 toward the goal of his own hell, and it rolls along with 
 the momentum of its misery and wickedness, and we 
 are but feeble straws before it, when suddenly the world's 
 Conqueror arises. He advances. He smites all of this 
 vast iniquity back. He overcomes it. And He says, ' Be 
 of good cheer!' Blessed Jesus Christ! I can go out into 
 the blackness of this night and feel the throbbing of this 
 great metropolis with its possible gigantic capacity for 
 Satanic wickedness, and all about me the stars shall 
 throw down their glad light and the night wind shall 
 whisper peace to me, and all without and within shall 
 breathe courage, and courage, and courage ! For He 
 overcame the world ! Alnd He said for my help, ' Be of 
 good cheer!' Brother, take up your burden again; God 
 will help your carry it. Son, face that temptation' and 
 conquer it; Jesus is fighting for you. God is stronger 
 than the devil. The two have fought together, but the 
 devil never won a single victory over the Almighty f All he 
 ever had to do with the Divine was to fight Him! But 
 he never once gained a victory. 'Thanks be to God, 
 which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus' 
 Christ!' " 
 
 Richard felt this sermon personally. The discussion 
 between him and Tom was fragmentary as they walked 
 back to their rooms. Tom seemed inclined to say very 
 little. Th^ parted with a "tingle good-night, and Richard 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 35 
 
 letter. "'°'"^"* *^« Postman brought a 
 
 He recognized the oackairp sie j,.o 
 There was a note encIoLd wfth it w ''''" '"^""^cript. 
 as follows : ^"^^'o^ed with it. He opened and read 
 
 obH;fd\o^u^: yoT'-' ^^^^" *° -- ^^- I ^ee, 
 criticism that the C or^PreT'^ c'' ^'^^ ^^^^^ 
 unwise to attempt its publ cadon ^,^°"!P^">' ^eem it 
 against the book from ?k ^^^ ^^^""« ^'^ ^11 
 
 -y for your enlu a'gement 'S Tni ""' T"^' ' ^'^ 
 'nyself. It is interesting It is e*n fr^"^!^ reading it 
 b«Jt it is not a book /w •, I fascinating at times, 
 
 h M kind of book we ml '!,"' '"'' *^ ^^ ^'•^"'^' ^^ai 
 you could rewrite thTbnT "u °"*- ^* '^ P°««'ble that 
 the story into suhshatl^T 'f °^ *'' ^^""^' P^°* °^ 
 As it is now! the fi m ' 'oiV "°"'' ''^^^'"^ P°P"'-- 
 would fan fla on the ma k°. ^ °P'"'°" '^'' '^' ^ook 
 all concerned * '"^ ''""^* '° ^ dead loss to 
 
 "I am, very regretfully, but very truly yours. 
 
 "A. B. Press." 
 
 Press had given him H, ! L* '°':°""gement Mr. 
 
 defeated. And the hVmiL, ''°"' "' ■>"' ^""l >>«" 
 
 bear a. the moment "°° "'' ""°« "■»» >■« ""W 
 
 the uhTe-Hfto?;: ollt ""• "* ^-= "«■" '«'" »" 
 a= well get allm;; j^s' a?„'n"f.'° l'"""' "' "''«'" 
 o». and fl„..„ed'.„ .he Z^ :7^-Jj,'Zf^'^ /f 
 ^. note „i.H a heightening coloV a'd"^ icktlnt 
 
36 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 " Office of The Weekly Comet, Chicago. 
 " Mr, Richard Bruce : 
 
 " Dear Sir, — Enclosed please find check for fifty dol- 
 lars, in payment of your story recently submitted. Permit 
 us to add that any more of the same kind will be well 
 received at the office of The Weekly Comet. You have 
 made a decided hit. 
 
 " We are, very respectfully, 
 
 " Editors of The Weekly Comet." 
 
 Richard stooped down and picked up the check. He 
 looked ?*; it earnestly, and then rose to his feet. A 
 moment later he was hurrying down the street in the 
 direction of the office of The Weekly Comet. 
 
 
 .^■^, 
 
 ; 
 
 ^ If 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels but 
 have not love. I am become sounding brass or a 
 clangmg cymbal. And if I have the J of p^o'phecy 
 and know all mysteries and all knowledge and if I 
 have an faith, so as to remove mountains.' but hav 
 not love, I am nothing.-Saint Paul. 
 
 leasf 'He\!H"'' "'"". T " '"^''^'^ ^"""^ »"«" i" the 
 
 brought a^reSon'ori/hf, ^Ld'an dt"""'^ "" 
 the office of The Weeklv r„!„ . u " '"""' " 
 
 as we understand wrtt'hriroVjhrSren"? 
 ' onee^fhl^T '",'"■ " ^' -'^^St^on tm ° 
 
 ra'„th„"4!^:' slL'lS'^'■s. '^-"^ ■^- 
 
 Then hThad viewed I" • " "'' '"""''■"^ '•«"^- 
 what he could do whh'. v'""* '™Ptation to try 
 He had found Mm^M Z. TV"^ "' composition 
 in that kinS ofto4 1,^^, ■.°' V'"'"'"'''' ^"^^ 
 .0 make money a?'!;- ^:Z^£"%^?^'^ '" -'n, 
 parent y a failure Th» f ""''^^ss. His book was ap- 
 
 to him'llla L ^s he r ad ^rr '^' P^"^"*^^ '*"" 
 Comet. He could earn itV "" ^'°"^ ^^^^ ^^^^ly 
 would read. n^fwhToet le^Z.r.l ^^^ ^^?- P-pl^ 
 tn« use of his ideal any more ? "t" ' ^'''" ^as 
 
 - Peo„e did no. wa^ntl":,:. "^^^ ^Z^ 
 
ssee 
 
 38 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Richard's mind as he read. But before he had stooped 
 to pick the check up from the floor he had fought the 
 battle with himself and v/on it for his higher self. 
 
 He went into the office and asked to see the editor. 
 The mailing clerk looked at him carelessly, noticed his 
 shabby clothes, and said, " What name ?" 
 
 Richard wrote his name on the back of one of the 
 advertising cards lying on the desk. The clerk leisurely 
 picked it up and read it. Evidently the name made some 
 difference with his manner, for he looked curiously but 
 respectfully at Richard, asked him to come inside the 
 railing, and, opening a door at one side, called out 
 Richard's name to ^ome one. " He says. Come in," 
 nodded the clerk, and Richard walked into a small room 
 where the chief editor of The Weekly Comet sat, with 
 his hat on the back of his head, smoking a very long 
 cigar, and writing at a small desk. 
 
 He wheeled around as Richard entered and looked 
 sharply at him. 
 
 " So you are the author of ' The ' ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Richard with his usual military 
 directness, coming right at the point. " I am the author 
 of the story you have lately accepted, and I have brought 
 back the check with the request that you give me the 
 manuscript." 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 "I have brought back the check; here it is; and I 
 would rather not have the story printed." 
 
 " Why, young man, this is a queer thing to do. 
 What's the matter ? Isn't the check good enough ? Are 
 you crazy ?" 
 
 Richard smiled. " Look at me and see if you think 
 I am. No, sir; I'm as &ane as any man in this city. But 
 if it's all the same to you I would like to have that story, 
 for the simple reason that I am ashamed of having written 
 it, and do not care to see it published." 
 
 The editor of The W^eekly Comet took his cigar out of 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 39 
 
 his ^outh and stared at Richard in undisguised astonish- 
 
 ashamed of ? The finest sensational story that any paper 
 
 eader'X '7 ""T"'' ' ^^^^^^"^^ '^ ^^ ^L fi'rst 
 stuff I L r ' '".^' '^"^^'^ '' ^ ^"^ '" sensational 
 ffr.M V "''."' '"^ '■'^^ ^'^^^ ^'^'•y ""til it made me 
 afraid to go home. Why, young man, your fortune'! 
 made ,f you can keep that up right along. "^Do you think 
 th.s paper can afford to give fifty-dollar checks for com 
 Zrl r T. ^°' '"■•' ^°" """^^ ^' - ^°°1 to bring it 
 Dut yours is the queerest of the lot!" 
 
 Richard looked at the man and hesitated. He won- 
 
 fn ""brin T^l' '.^ ^''^ ^° ""^^^^^^^^ ^is real mZe 
 
 in bringing back the money. Then, prompted by his 
 
 tThe saTd^ °""' ''-'''■'-'''' ^-'^"- ^" «" -- 
 
 hnf'^K °r^"* '" ^'""^'"^ ^^^^ t^^'s check is personal 
 but in brief it is this : I have an ideal as to whaf literary 
 work ought to be. In composing and writing tha sto^ 
 I degraded that ideal. I. feel that I ought to have som^ 
 higher object m writing than to please readers and make 
 
 saint " ' "'°"«''' ^ ''^^"^d live to see a 
 
 Richard laughed. " You don't see one now Only 
 
 an obstinate individual who has a good reasol for his 
 
 action with himself. If I return the chek I suppose 
 
 '"'Nol": t^r*'Ti° ^'^'"^ "^^ ^^« manuscn^t" 
 to it But ., f '' ;:^P''^^ the editor. " You're welcome 
 it's loo late " *'' '*°'^ "°* ''^•■"^ P""ted. I'm afraid 
 
 ;;Why?" asked Richard, a little sternly. 
 Because it's in type bv this tim«. an^ ^',» 
 out fh- "'t— , ' ^"° ^"® P^Per Koes 
 
 Richard felt annoyed. When one has made a sacrifice 
 
40 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 he likes to have it as complete as possible. But he dm 
 not see that he could do anything. If the story was 
 printed, he could not very well demand the suppression 
 of the entire afternoon's edition of The Weekly Comet. 
 He gravely laid the check on the desk. 
 " I'm sorry the story is printed," he said, not doubt- 
 ing the man's truthfulness. " You may as well destroy 
 the manuscript then. I don't want to see it again." 
 
 The editor of The Weekly Comet seemed to consider 
 the interview at an end. It was not true that the sto-y 
 was in print; in fact, it had been retained to go into the 
 next week's issue; but this little deception was not likely 
 to be detected by Richard, and the story was too good 
 to be lost to the pap'er on account of the whim of a sen- 
 timental fanatic. So reasoned the editor of the paper, 
 and better men than he have done as mean things. 
 
 Richard walked out upon the street with some disap- 
 pointment at the result of his interview; but, on thr 
 whole, he felt that he had restored his own higher esti- 
 mate of himself, 
 
 "The man probably thought I was a fool," he said 
 to himself. " Of course he could not understand it. But 
 my mother would know exactly how I feel." The thought 
 seemed to bring much comfort to Richard, and he walked 
 on more at peace with himself than he had been for a 
 week. He recalled John King's sermon of the Sunday 
 before, and felt that he could really say that he had over- 
 come a part of the world at least. As he went by the 
 office of the great daily with which T6m was connected, 
 who should come springing out but that individual 
 himself. 
 
 " Which way you going ?" asked Tom, after good- 
 mornings were said. 
 
 "Straight ahead," replied Richard. 
 
 " Good. So am I. What a morning for a walk ! 
 Work takes me down to the river again. Got to write 
 up on the new coal barges. Expect I'll be black in the 
 face with the pffort. I tell you, I feel well, don't you, 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 41 
 
 ?nn!; ^•' A"'^.'^'"" '"'"'"'"'^ ^^'at would have been a 
 good-sued Ind.an war dance if it had been allowed more 
 rooni than usually exists on a crowded city sfdew^k 
 The animal part of Tom was perfectly health^. He was 
 a stranger to dyspepsia and headache and bad fedinTs 
 It was worth a barrel of medicine to see him waUc He 
 
 the llTT '"' ^""'^^^^"^ *^^' h« wanted To thump 
 he people he met and ask them if they didn't feel wd^ 
 
 less^d^ngerrus."""^ "^' " ^°" ^^' '^' '^ -"'^ "e 
 
 Wh'lf '^°"'' ^."'''' *^°"' *^**- Not if you hit back 
 What are you doing to keep up your muscle ? You l^ok 
 
 ^^uTu^ 'r ' '^"^^ ^^^* '« ^° -w^""y good .' 
 what has that to do with it ?" 
 
 "Why, don't you know that good peoole are «nf 
 
 'Zrl7' ''''':'' ^'^^'^^ vfeakVelted ani ne 
 vous and have to be careful about what they eat/' 
 
 slyly °''' '"' -^^'^ ^^"«^' ^- ---Pie/' said Richard 
 
 "Oh well, John King is a famous exception H« 
 
 beheves m gymnasiums and regular systema' e" erc"e 
 
 and sensible ways of developing the animal sy em IVe 
 
 prprireSt^rs.''"" "^°^^ ^^^^ ^^'^ -^^ vl^J 
 "I should hope so," said Richard with a laueh "AnW 
 yet I beheve the insurance tables show that me„ in the 
 Z'^ZsZ'TZ ''^" ^''"-^ -^ other^claT: o/m t^ 
 havet; "; :: dot^irtorlT "^°"^ '"^"' ^^^ ^^^^ 
 "I won't argue with you, Dick, because you have an 
 
 would make a ,p,;„did' success a. 1, Bv'Z'" ' u"" 
 about the hnoW > c,,™... „ "' "J^^ "« ""y. ""ow 
 ye, p.. "" '•'"'== ■>■"" navenl heard anything 
 
h't 
 
 42 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 " Yes. I received a note from Mr. Press this mominff 
 by messenger." 
 
 "Containing a thousand-dollar check ? Richard you 
 won t forget about that hundred you owe mel" ' 
 
 " Mr. Press sent back the manuscript, and said he was 
 sorry, but the book would not pay to publish. He said 
 It was not popular." 
 
 f r^r. ^"^tl ^"* *^^*'' ^^^* ^ told you. Cold com- 
 fort, eh ? What will you do now ? Write another ?" 
 
 I don't know," replied Richard slowly. "I can't 
 help thinking Pm right and all the publishers are wrong 
 It sounds egotistical, but it really isn't. It's only the 
 taith 1 have m my awn ideal." 
 
 , There was a pause a^ the two friends picked their way 
 over a dirty crossing. When they reached the other side, 
 iom said suddenly : 
 
 for Thf?nif "'"c.'^V°" remember that story you wrote 
 th n?T ^^'f "?,?J °"" ^ '* ^^^ the most thrilling 
 
 hing I ever read. Why don't you try that kind again ? 
 I know papers that pay fairly well for that kind of work 
 Remember what Ned White told us at the Holly Tree Inn 
 a while ago, about getting twenty-five dollars for a story 
 m The Comet ? Why don't you try it, Dick ? You need 
 an overcoat awfully bad." 
 
 thr.fi'f""'' T ^ ""^' *^^'" ^^""^ ^y this unexpected 
 rlZ ^"'^ the unsuspicious Tom. He hesitated a mo- 
 done "He d"; 1'fl' *° *^" ^°" ^^^"^'^ -hat he had 
 done He detailed the account of the letter and check 
 
 tt ;r " f -i-humorous picture of his interview wth 
 the editor of The Weekly Comet. Tom listened with 
 open-eyed wonder. 
 
 herl ^1"^°" '•' '^" T.'*-^ -'^h I had a dictionary 
 here to do you justice, Dick I And you actually ^ave 
 back to that man fifty dollars that you earn Sfa^r and 
 square! I should like to have seen his face while yoTwere 
 talking to him. He must have thought his Weekly Come 
 had struck a meteor or something I " 
 
 " Well, Tom. I had to do it to preser^-c my o.v« stand- 
 
THE LiFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 43 
 
 ard of right. Suppose I have a high ideal of an author's 
 profession ; suppose I desecrate that ideal : isn't it just 
 as much a dishonor to myself as it would be for another 
 man to desecrate his lower ideal of right? I must be true 
 
 my own better and higher self. Tom. or else I am a liar. 
 I may be mistaken in holding the estimate I do of an 
 authors profession. But. holding it. I must be true to 
 It. You don t know how much more of a man I feel since 
 overco„,.„^ ,hat was a real temptation to me Wh ?" 
 
 writing the story and taking money for it ? If / have 
 a feehng in me that tells me I have'violated my highe 
 elf must I not act accorcngly ? Am I not bound o be 
 
 worlH T. r ^" ^'''"^ *^"^ •"« '^ t^"«' even if all the 
 world would have acted the other way ? " 
 
 "Perhaps you are morbid." 
 
 " No, I'm not I " repied Richard firmly " I hav^ » 
 
 lro^;,t?"L °'"""'°''' '""^ "J' """^ fibre is tree 
 
 haniT'"' '!"',- °"' ""''" ""' "'" "'her men. Per- 
 cans vou 1? "' "' "'°""''- '^ =»" ""■ » anybody 
 
 ,. "■^"*/. ^°"'* ^^"' ^«* to call me a fool Tom T. 
 
 '^ZlCtZ'cl -r '"^ °"* °"^ ChriJtianleHef^n th 
 monev f WU ^/''' ^^^' '^^ ^°^'^ ^^out the value of 
 
 tTnts lerY i "" '°"''^" ^''^^ °"'- ^^^«"«th and our 
 ^lents were given us simply to make fame and wealth ? 
 What If we never recognized the fact that it is Z ble 
 
 1 inr r;T "°"^^.'^ *^^ ^'^^ °^ characr td 
 real inner hfe ? How much Chrisfianif,, ;. *i-— ^ 
 
 .» .l.e eagerness with whieh the rice" isheaptor«P po"^ 
 
44 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 1 
 
 l'9 
 
 sessions and struggling after office, and forgettintr its 
 spiritual possibilities?" wrgeuing its 
 
 "Mighty little," muttered Tom "There', l«f. t 
 preaching, but not much practice. I don^t bel ev her 
 
 whVwoui7:,r^ °' ^'\"^'"'°" ^"^ ^ hiif i'This c ; 
 
 did Dlk Th '°",rr^'"«^ '^"^ ^ ^°°' ^°'- what you 
 aia, uick. They wouldn't understand it " 
 
 "I don't know. I like to think there are at least 
 
 "I've got to go across first ; then I come back." 
 Tom looked at Richard as if he would like to ask him 
 what he was doing. But he knew Richard's rink natur^ 
 quite well and did not feel hurt at not being taken into 
 
 hi-: s^reJu"' '^f "" ^"" '^'' '^ ^'^'^"^ ^'' "ot "e eL 
 ''clVl T'c^' ' ^^^'^ ^"^ ^"ffi"«"t reason. 
 Oood-by I See you at dinner to-night ? " 
 
 whi^i'had h".^'''''' '"'^ '^°'" P'""«^^ ^"°«^ ^he bridge, 
 which had been swung open to allow a tug through and 
 
 Richard walked rapidly down a narrow passaKe oast 
 two lumber yards and several coal and warehouses and 
 wen, ,„,o a small building which had the words "Bar« 
 oufs'o ,r7n7, ' Tl: ""^ """^"^ "'s clo.hes and oaS: 
 
 n,ade him looK even rZ^ZTl'tl:.' H^: el 
 down to the river and aboard one of the coal wj!. 2 
 
 ing witn the man m the engine house. 
 
 insan"e:f;e;:nrft^;:n,1 '''' ^'^'^^^^ ^"^ - -^ 
 day when he saw tl^l necessary to go back to the 
 
 hJm his^vercoaT W "'°" '^' ''''^ ^^^°" «"d «^- 
 a keenlv r V """'* remember that Richard had 
 
 a keenly sensitive and somewh;.f rn^-.*:. -." 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 45 
 
 Joined to this was a most passionate but strong and vivid 
 love of the truth. Added to this, also, were a genuine 
 love of mankind and a leal desire to know the facts of 
 men's lives. On the day that Tom and he had seen the 
 man on the coal wagon the thought came to him, " What 
 do I really know of that man's life ? He is one out of 
 thousands in this city who earn their living by hard phy- 
 sical toil. What kind of toil is it ? How hard is it for 
 the pay ? Suppose sometime I want to write something 
 in a book about the hardships of such a life, what would 
 I know about it ?" These questions came to him rapidly. 
 At the same time he was revolving in his mind what to 
 do to make a living himself. The result of all this was 
 that the day after writing the story for The Comet he 
 went down to the river, and after half a day spent in vain 
 search for work he succeeded in getting a position at one 
 of the offices as workman in the coal bargr The fore- 
 man saw that he was an unusually strong young man, 
 and put him to work at once, without asking him many 
 questions. The work consisted in rolling the iron car 
 or scoop upon the track laid in the barge, loading it up 
 by the use of a new and ingenious apparatus just put into 
 the barges by an enterprising firm, and then guiding the 
 scoop back to its elevation, where it was dumped into 
 the company's coal boxes on shore. There was only one 
 part of the work that ailed for much physical outlay; 
 but that one part was a severe strain on a man unaccus- 
 tomed to physical labor. At the close of the first day 
 Richard was so lame and tired that he almost felt like 
 giving up. There was something horribly distasteful to 
 his keen, delicate, almost womanlike sensitiveness in the 
 dirty, dusty, monotonous toil with a gang of men who 
 had no companionship for him. But he thought to him- 
 self, " There are hundreds of men working at this labor 
 week after week with nothing else to do; and if they get 
 sick or injured, there are a hundred men to take their 
 places. What should I be if such an «x^i»f-nff ir^-nrr-.^A «^. 
 
 ahead of me all my days ?" 
 
 an existence lootnet 
 
 up 
 
46 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 He continued at his work through the week ^e^m., 
 a dollar and ten cents a dav fnr ;♦ -fu "^,^"'^' getting 
 of the foreman hV 7 J *' ^^''^^gh the kindness 
 
 lund, in r h".r l"""^'"^ '" «^'"'"« h'« breakfast and 
 was able to nf v ° " '""^ '* ^'^^ '"** °^ *^^ ^^^^^ ^« 
 
 Sabl textbLt^ \'"' '^'^"'"« two or three 
 vaiuaoie text-books from his scanty college librarv h- 
 
 managed to pay for his breakfasts and lunches ^ 
 He went to work this Monday morning after" his talk 
 
 Bruce, you're wanted out here " 
 He came out on the barge deck. 
 
 One of the drivers has been sick for a week .nH 
 you're wanted to drive his wagon " said th. f 
 looking at Richard a little cTrfouslv f l^^ k""'"' 
 possible for Richard to concea I^ I../1 ^' u *'''" ''"- 
 an everyday laborer '* *^^* ^" ^^« "<»' 
 
 quied" ""'*• ''^^'^ ^ «° "«''* ^J-«?" said Richard 
 numb!". ""'"'' *'^ °^^" «"P- You knon. the 
 
 on U ^X? Jot K-'" "*>;^^ ^^"^--^ °^ P^P- -d read 
 "Yes- tI' J^^\^'"8^' No. 56 Plain Street." 
 
 at the aJkrLs " "''" '* "'" ^« ^^'^' ^ ''^«« surprised 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 47 
 
 I 
 
 would take him directly through some of the busiest 
 streets m the city. For a moment he was tempted to go 
 by some obscure route; but he drovi right on. smUing 
 
 fj .^/'*,^*!l'^" ^' ^^ "^^"^ '^''^^^'-y past the office of 
 The Weekly Comet and down b;- the fashionable stores 
 and imposing business blocks Nobody noticed him 
 Who notices men who driNe coal wagons ? Besides. 
 . his disguise was nearly perfect : he was black and grimy. 
 And by the time he reached the preacher's residence he 
 felt quite composed pud ready to do anything. 
 
 John King's reo.dence was a plain, modest front in 
 a row of brick Richard went in at the back entrance, 
 and a servant told him where to unload the coal He 
 wa. ob/iged to carry it in with a basket. He had un- 
 loaded about half of it and had set his basket down on the 
 sidewalk, and was just shovelling into it from the wag- 
 on, when a strong but very sweet voice said, " You can 
 drive your wagon into the court and get nearer the 
 cellar if you want to," and there stood John King his 
 earnest face looking up at Richard from the sidewalk. 
 He had evidently been at work in his study, and from 
 the window had seen Richard unloading the coal, and had 
 come out to speak to him. 
 
 Richard had never met the great preacher to be intro- 
 duced to h.m. " He could not possibly know me as one 
 of his evening audience." thought Richard. The idea of 
 meeting him on this occasion had not occurred to 
 Richard. He had admired John King at a distance. 
 Sometimes he had been tempted to go up and thank him 
 after the service, but had never done so 
 
 gate'^"*^ °"'^''^'" ^' '^'''- "^ ^^''"'^ "°*'«^ tJ^e 
 
 Mr. King opened it for him. and he drove the wagon 
 in close by the cellar way. 
 
 "I noticed you were a strapping young fellow as I 
 ooked out of my window, and I said to myself, It's a pity 
 to waste such strength. I thought the servan* hadn't 
 told you about the gate and the court" 
 
48 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 All this was said in the most simple, straightforward 
 manner. Richard felt as if the man regarded him as an 
 equal in everything. 
 
 " No; she didn't say anything about it. I thought 
 the only way was to carry the coal in from the sidewalk." 
 , " It's hard work. Don't you find it so ?" 
 
 " Yes; I do." 
 
 " Must be hard on the lungs. Wish I could help you 
 If you have the coal check, I'll sign it." Richard had 
 forgotten it. He pulled it out and the preacher wrote 
 his name on it and handed it back. As he did so he 
 looked at Richard a little more closely and said, "Haven't 
 I seen you before ?" 
 
 "Well," replied Richard, coloring even through the 
 coal dust on his face, '^ maybe you have. I have heard 
 you preach almost every Sunday night for two months " 
 
 " Have you ?" The question was put in a tone of 
 pleasure. " Then we ought to be good friends. You 
 must come up and tell me so next Sunday night, will you 
 my brother ?" • j > 
 
 Ah! those words : " My brother I" How simple they 
 look on paper, yet how thrilling they sound when uttered 
 by one who scorns all the false standards of human aris- 
 tocracy and sees in every man an equal on the possible 
 spiritual side! Richard felt that he could die for this 
 man He felt drawn to him as he had never been to a 
 single being before. Those who knew John King a little 
 said he had a marvellous gift of magnetism. Those who 
 knew him well said it was not magnetism, but a genuine 
 love of men that gave him his wonderful power over men 
 And I think they were right. 
 
 "I shall look for you," said John King. " Excuse me 
 If 1 have hmdered your work. Good-morning!" And he 
 went into the house. 
 
 Richard drove back to the yard tingling all over with 
 a new feehng He felt the dignity of labor and the value 
 of the individual. He had been treated as an equal in 
 a certain way by the most nowerfiil nuw;- , v 
 
THL LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 49 
 
 Chicago, even when he was disguised as a common 
 laborer; had been called brother, and asked to make this 
 man s acquaintance. It was a delightful experience for 
 him, and did more good than even he himself could know 
 at the time. 
 
 As he drove back into the coal yard whom should he 
 see but Tom, talking with the foreman. In the course 
 of his "write-up" of the new style coal barges, which 
 had effected such a revolution in the lake coal traffic, 
 lorn had reached the firm that employed Richard. As 
 Richard jumped down from the wagon the foreman 
 called him by name and asked him something about the 
 kmd of coal he had tak- ,t. Tom turned around, and 
 
 .. w^.^^'^'P^P" ^' '^^"^^^ h's friend at once. 
 Will you shake ha:;U^ with a hard and horny-fisted 
 son of toil ?» asked Richard, walking up to Tom and 
 thrusting out a very grimy paw. 
 
 " I will if you'll furnish soap and water and towels " 
 responded Tom promptly. But he seized Richard's hand 
 and shook it hard. "What on earth and under it are you 
 doing m this business, Dick ? First you know I shall 
 arrest you for being dangerously insane." 
 
 "Tom," said Richard with a dignity which not even 
 his dirty face could lessen much, " I'll tell you all about 
 It to-night." 
 
 Some one called' him from the barge and he had to 
 go, leaving Tom standing in the yard looking sober and 
 almost vexed. But he had to be content with his old 
 chum s answer, and after a short interview with the fore- 
 man he left the yard to complete his assigned task 
 
 That afternoon as Richard worked he recalled the fact 
 that the driver who had usually driven the wagon he 
 had been called upon to take was said to be sick He 
 asked the foreman about him, and he gave him his name 
 with the number of the tenement where he lived The 
 two happened to live in the same block. 
 
 " Pretty hard case, too." said tHe foreman u,hr^ «ras 
 not a iiard-hearted man by any means. " Bill is a goner 
 
so 
 
 RICHARD '1»UCE; or, 
 
 sure; been ailing all winter, more or less. He'll never 
 get up to drive that team again." 
 
 •^Yo'u ct't H T'''^'"^ ''°"* «°'"» *° ««<= Wm. 
 J^ou can t do hun no good," said the foreman "H.'c 
 
 o/hrwrto t"'"^ t* J"" ""* ■"' «'^W"'-" 
 
 ".toed to ^rL, %ve"„?°";'''"*"'l°""' *'*"" O""- 
 possible, tOKt Tom .^'^ ='nd s« the sick man. and, if 
 h. wenl'up tfi-o^"" '° «° "'* Wn, So after dinner 
 
 near by. ToVflrned g Je^J,"^^^/"'"'' "-« 
 h s experience ut ♦»,» *^'^'*^^'y ?o Kichard s account of 
 
 RicharrS Jshed .'"' '"'' ^"' ^''"P^^ ^-<^' ^hen 
 
 with'^^u" L^Tv^^rgetT:^r^ -^^ ^-^ -- 
 
 won't you come and sS wlh ^ L"^ '° ^°- ^^^ 
 position on some paperT of ^' ^"'' ^"'^ «^t « 
 don't believe it was mean* ?v. .""' '"°'^''' ^°°^ ^ ^ 
 coal-heaver. I ZITZ 1^^ you should work as a 
 
 your powers shoSd .^no'ed o° h *^ ' "^^ °^ 
 
 dreds of inferior men a e makln J^ b^^l'' '^ ^^"^ '^""■ 
 How long are you t^aiZ ? ^ ^ ""^^^^ ="d ^^^ne. 
 in this QuixoticTshlon ?" """""^"^ "^^^ '^"--'^y 
 
 PerLlX^ZingrLLtd^^°^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^' 
 «nd it's more than IVe earn/H « r f "*' ^ ^^^^ "°^' 
 
 "Earned it ? Put a man ^^ . " ^ ^'^' *=°"«S^-" 
 and prize English o a' ons to d ,^'" ^"'' ^'''"^ P^^^''^^ 
 bar^l What is the ."h"/ comtT^. '^^^^ °«^ ^ -- 
 
 .cttinrupL*d°:rnrarord'^ -^'^'•-<^ ^-Hard, 
 when excited. « Tom you " . '■°°'"' ^ ^^^''' ^e had 
 think the world was^^to^rZ; ^lu^- '''"' ^t 
 
 _ -_i ^s^iuiiina up with 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 news. I don t deny the great educating and civilizing 
 power of the press, etc.. but I say that the newspaper 
 world and the coJl-iate world and the church world and 
 the business world are largely olind to a need of studying 
 and learning to love humanity. The next great move- 
 ment that will mark the progress of the human race will 
 be a movem«,t that will have for its reason an intelligent 
 knowledge of men and love for them. I feel just as sure 
 
 AnA \ T° 't ' ^''' '^^' ^ ""^ "«ht here this moment. 
 And, oh Tom, I want to be in that movement ? Before 
 C^od, and in the sight of ray sainted mother. I say the love 
 of money and fame has no place in my bosom before my 
 longmg to help redeem this world from its sin and self- 
 
 Ih^r^ 'h . '^ T^°*^ ^'" '° "^^ '"^ *h^t I "'^y help in 
 that redemption I will feel satisfied, even if all that men 
 count as success is denied me." 
 
 outI^/'V!'^!''^''^^'> ''''"" ^^'^ ^ ^^ne after this 
 outburst. Finally he said, in a voice that trembled a 
 
 "Dick, I wish I had your personal Christianity. My 
 
 ZfZT " M '^.' r""- ^^' ^^^ ^ ^^'"^^ oi fashion 
 and society. My father brought me up to tell the truth 
 
 votion'^tn'T^ ' ^"u «^"*'^'"^"- B"t the personal de- 
 
 unknown to me as a new language would be. The great 
 things ,n the world seem to me to be success in making 
 momey or a name, ,n gaining power over men, and corn- 
 Ton dnnV'ri^' 'PP'""^^- ^^-^ ^'•^^t things with 
 yoi dont seem to be any of those. And yet Dick we 
 
 both walk through the san.e world. We hav^ the same 
 
 thTntc \^'^\^\^ ^ body, we feel the same in other 
 
 mT- '"i """ *^ ' ''"^ *° ^' ^'^^'^y' "^t"^al beings. 
 What is the source of your actions, Dick ?" 
 
 Richard paused before he answered. He felt that 
 lorn was really struggling at times after the higher spirit- 
 ual hfe and that he had in him great possibilities for 
 wonderful development if he were once Christ's man 
 He answered slowly : 
 
52 
 
 KICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Tom Iis,e„.d ■„ 5/l.„c. r hard Id'"'"' ""'""" 
 to break it Ui. ^ •/ ^'ciiard made no movement 
 
 .akenasea, sir "' ''"" """''''"'■ ''"<' >" ha<i 
 would be b«ar„oT,or """"■ '" '"' «'"»"" ">" « 
 
 The room Z ^IVZlZrVo^J-'V' "'" '""'■ 
 and took down a linm if tT , , . """' "> " ''o'" 
 .».. his face Is ,Zsl,«:,td'ti';'' " ^t"""" "°«"'' 
 tears Somelhiiie in w7 1 u '"' '"'"= """k' o( 
 
 sick man h. hti p, n"„e^\ °° ir^iif,!?'''-* "' "« 
 asked him to go with him ^"^ °' "• ""'' 
 
 I am no[teded'at*.h. office 7*'V" ""^'' """» "»' 
 very often, I „„ tL'^u "" '°""'*'"- ''°"»'' >■'•">'" 
 
 witjrss-itrtrmer"-*-- 
 
 had iairCnthTslrrnd f'^"" -'"' >"-"""» 
 and paused before a crl^t-^^ - '""''" "'° "■™' 
 
 fcebl, sUon^ZU^TuloouTJ^T ^'''"' ' "*■" 
 the door with a H.Vf,, . ''"°*^'*^°' a"a a woman came to 
 
 suspir-„-^,;ttT;i'°::i:^,,"' "■= -- -- 
 
 coal U: Terf;:; res^L't '«" « ""* '" '"= 
 i« a friend of minf and weL employed. This 
 
 ■s aMe to have viX^tra^^od;"' '" "" "'"'■ " "' 
 
 on a„'17rxtl''thrrr''%"°"- «->•>"' »at down 
 
 and Mrs. i„„ess":r.a*!;: trLhTsU"" ■"°"°"'"' ^- 
 
 be.a„ to'couTrjrI'bl ' V "", '=" ^'"^ *^ "■= ''"ve, ' 
 gave him someth nT^ha; ,f T ' "'^"' "'" "> W™ »"" 
 Porarsr relief. ^ '"""" '° ««' h" a little fem- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 53 
 
 " Bill,' 
 >> 
 
 she said, "two young men from the yard to 
 see you." Richard went up to the bed and took the man's 
 hand. The minute he looked at him he saw in him the 
 man to whom he had given his overcoat. Death had 
 surely marked him for his own. That was only a week 
 ago, and n^w the man lay with the seal of the great angel 
 on his forehead. 
 
 " My brother," said Richard gently, " I wish I could 
 do something for you. But the love of the great Father 
 is all yours." It seemed hard to say anything Never 
 before had Richard seemed to feel that his own abundant 
 health was a reproach to any one. IL oeemed to him as 
 if it filled up the little room and crowded upon the sick 
 man. 
 
 The man looked at Richard and attempted to say 
 something. But he immediately fell into a coughing 
 spasm so terrible that Tom, whose sympathies were like 
 a child's, rose from his seat, and, coming over to Richard, 
 whispered to him that he was going for a doctor, when 
 a gentle knock at the door was followed by the entrance 
 into the room of John King. It seemed natural some- 
 how that he should be there; and Richard, in thinking 
 It all over afterwards, was reminded of the fact that at the 
 time he was not in the least surprised to see the preacher 
 come m. He recognized Richard, and shook hands with 
 him quietly. Then going up to the bed he gazed at the 
 dying man with an expression of most wonderful com- 
 passion. He took up the man's hand a moment, then 
 placed It down, and without speaking to him at once 
 kneeled down by the bed and prayed in a voice so quiet 
 and yet so persuasive that it seemed as if the Person he 
 was talking with must be in the room. 
 
 "Blessed Master," he said, "Thou who didst walk 
 this earth in tears and sorrow for a lost and suflFering 
 world, here is a child of Thine who has reached the end 
 of this hfe, and ,will soon be looking into the face of many 
 
 , * nerv. ruiyiviiig oaviour, Thou 
 
 knowest all about him. He has be^^n a rough, sinful 
 
 THE PROPERTY OF 
 
 SCARBORO 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
 n-"" 
 
54 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 child He has not prayed mud,, nor gone to church 
 much, nor lived a very good life here; but he ha truly 
 hfted up Ins feeble soul to Thee of late. He has told me 
 that he was a s.nner. He has asked me to pray for him 
 Do Thou comfort his soul then. What can I do^ my d Tr 
 Lord except beg of Thee to deal with him as T^^u dTds 
 
 to him" . Cn " t'" °" '""^ "°^^ ' ^'^^^ Thou not say 
 
 \uZ' . ^ ^' ' '^y ""*° thee. To-day shalt thou be 
 
 w.th Me m Paradise ?' And wilt Thou not say as much 
 
 Jesus. He has felt the bitterness of existence more than 
 the sweetness of it; and Thou knowest how much of the 
 bitterness has been poured into his cup by other men 
 
 we"com: h m ':: t ''''• ^^ '-'' -- thVVhou wi h 
 welcome him as he conges stumbling toward Thee re 
 
 pentant and temper the great light of the e ernal" an-" 
 sions to him. so that he may behold Thy love only shiX 
 
 iTh JLrX- ^ "^'^^ "'^^ °^ S°-°- and accua nte? 
 with grief, this is one of Thv children! T u* u: 
 
 newness of Hfe, whe. .here l^J;;Tno J;^ ^^n^L't 
 n-ore crymg, nor pai„, „or ,„„„,, „„, j an, more 
 We comm,. him wi,h his need, to Thine everlaTZ 
 
 ra;pLJi"j^:™'"VrnV'-- '^- -^^ 
 
 death h.H ^'''^''' '".^' '"^^*=^' ""'^^'^ 't ^as Tnded 
 death had come m and heard the sweef "An,-« » . ' 
 
 laid his chill hand on that rough aTe and Tave i?*h 
 majestic imprint of royalty. Th'e peacher beckoned the' 
 i:Z\TL form' V'' ^"'^^"""^ °^ thet:n" 'the 
 
 what thoughtful man is ? Slowly the poor wife Stupefied 
 
 J^sto mor™'' •" *'^ knowledge 'that th7sirbod, 
 was no more conscious. The shock seemed to .st«n IZ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 55 
 
 fnto a deeper misery. John King, with a calmness that 
 seemed born of nights of prayer and days of service, 
 comforted her, and did all that mortal man could ao 
 under the circumstances. Richard wanted to do some- 
 thing, and the preacher said he might stop and ask the 
 foreman of the yard to come up with his wife as he went 
 down. So the young men went out, Richard giving his 
 message by the way. 
 
 " How did John King get away over in this part of 
 the city ?" asked Tom as he and Richard walked slowly 
 and thoughtfully back to their rooms. 
 
 " I don't know. He's a wonderful man. Seems some- 
 times as if there must be two or three of him." 
 
 Tom was silent until they reached Richard's doorway. 
 Then he said : 
 
 " I shall not be satisfied, Dick, until I am a CLristian. 
 Help me, won't you ?" 
 
 For reply Richard grasped Tom's hand. He could 
 not say a word. Tom turned away, and they parted 
 after a day which had been crowded full of incident and 
 experience for them both. But God sends such days 
 sometimes, perhaps to show what possibilities for good 
 or evil may be put between two sunrisings, that men may 
 be more careful when they say : 
 
 "To-morrow I will do so-and-so." 
 Sunday evening found Richard and Tom in John 
 King's church. The week had been more than usually 
 busy and full of thought to them. Tom was going 
 through an experience of struggle which had not as- 
 sumed the definite shape of a pitched battle; Richard 
 had passed a week of hardship, and wanted something 
 helpful; both young men faced the preacher with a new 
 and personal knowledge of him, which gave an added 
 interest to what he said. 
 
 His subject this evening was, " The Neglected Factor 
 in Education," and he read the whole of Paul's thirteenth 
 chapter of i Corinthians. 
 
 " We boast," he said, after a few opening remarks on 
 
 I 
 
S6 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 the historical setting of the chapter-" we boast of our 
 
 rS ;!"f ""'--•*-. of their splendid equipment l 
 
 training men ,n language and science and art and music 
 
 where i°:H '"' "'"-^^"^^ ^"' '"^^'""« -<» >-. Bm 
 tlcTes love't'""Tr' '^^'■"'"^ in our land tha 
 If all W !?\"'''"'' "' ''^^ '"^^^ important branch 
 s/hnnl ""^ ''""^'■'^*^^ °^ y«""8 "'«" out of our 
 
 schools every year into all the professions, into every 
 department of business, well equipped for making money 
 and making speeches, and writing newspaper artfcl« and 
 
 scZr^''""' '"^ ''"" "^"^ °^ ^hem coiSe ou o^thesc 
 schools burning ,with a flaming love of men gained and 
 fostered by a„ intelligent and enthusiastic study o man" 
 sins? IfX ' '^^"'^"'"«^' '^« wrongs, its pow rs 1 
 
 l^e if a the 1?"°'^'"' ^'""« '" ^hi^ ""•-««« is 
 ove, If. as the apostle says, it is more important than 
 
 languages or all knowledge, if to be without i" to b^ 
 of leTrnint? 'Vs^t "'^ ^"f-''^" '^'' ^° '^ ^ °- -^^oo' 
 exceptTdIr ctlyp' ^^ s'".^ ttf' """" '' ^^"^''^ 
 men are devoid'of huma'n : n^y P ^ wH iltat so 
 many students know so little of'mankind ? B ause man 
 kind IS not taught. We learn almost everything aZt" 
 
 I^Tst^of^^^^'"^"^^^^^ 
 
 pi?v^^":r:ti^f\;^r;t£^^"^- 
 
 but never since the davs of jZl ChZ f,'"^'^''':"^ ^S^' 
 
 -it is a heart Hum.n> ""'^"^ *^'* *^^ '«' ^'^'"^"ds 
 2S*"- humanity cries for bread an-' -^ -• • 
 
 ^- tr.tasj. aiiu wc jj:vc it 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 57 
 
 ur 
 
 or 
 
 lie 
 
 ut 
 
 at 
 
 :h 
 
 ir 
 
 y 
 
 y 
 
 d 
 
 e 
 
 d 
 
 * '*°"*~*^* stone of our knowledge. The truly edu- 
 cated man in God's sight is the man who loves most. I 
 don't say it alone : Paul says it, Christ says it, John says 
 it; the best humanity in every age says it. The world 
 groans to-day in its misery. Men die every minute in 
 this city with no care or love from the great mass of 
 even so-called Christian people. O Men, if ye be men! 
 O brothers, if ye are worthy the sacred name! how many 
 hours will ye toil to-morrow to gain knowledge ? to add 
 to your already greedy riches ? to increase the world's 
 knowledge of the number of hairs on a butterfly's wing, 
 or the exact number of curves necessary for a perfect 
 piece of architecture ? while all around the human crea- 
 ture holds out its beseeching hands, and ye go your ways 
 more eager over a change of fashion than over the destiny 
 of an immortal life! In this church— it shames me to 
 speak of it— I heard a woman for fifteen minutes express 
 the utmost interest in the number of buttons to be used 
 on an article of dress, while the news that a poor child 
 had been i un over in the street and was dying in the next 
 house provoked her into saying, ' Too bad!' and that was 
 all. Do not tell me that what we need in this age or any 
 age is more culture, more money, more civilization, more 
 education.; What we need is more of the eternal love of 
 God in our hearts ! We are dying for the need of it. 
 Our educational methods are neglecting the one factor 
 that can make all other attributes of a man worth any- 
 thing. We grow projid with our learning ; we grow con- 
 temptuous of the ignorant ; we feel above the lowly : 
 while God would have'us gather up the riches of learning 
 and civilization and pour them out at the feet of the 
 world. Oh, it's hunger for love, if we did but know it! 
 What shall it profit us to gain all things and miss that ? 
 And if we miss it, do we not miss all things, yea, heaven 
 itsdf ? for what is heaven but God, and what is God'but 
 Love ? 
 
 ""Cr the sermon Richard* obedient trv h\% orofnise 
 went up and shook hands with John King and took Tom 
 
58 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 word fo H "? u'""- ^^' ^'-^^^ P«^<=her spoke . 
 word to each of them. <' Come and s< e me " he said 
 -th a heartine... that left no doubt as toTs mean ng 
 
 l^Ti- t '''"°"^' ^°"*=^ w'th the man which was 
 something better than sermons or words 
 ^ Are you going to call ?" asked Tom, 
 1 d like to. But he must be a very busy man S.,n 
 
 Tom said nothing. Finally, "What did you think 
 
 Yes : but so is Paul." 
 Tom sMmed on the' point of discussing tlie auesti™ 
 when they were startled b, an alarm of fife ThTh p 
 pened to be ,ust passing an engine house. The Lrses 
 
 bnef time they were attached to their places th. T™ 
 
 :z7s:''T\r' °"* "" "-"'^ '"4 Se lit" 
 
 ba'k urr'si'dtX' ''"'"' ^"O"' "■' "■'- «- 
 "Come on," cried Tom, "the fire is over your wav" 
 
 .hey tut'edX"" ^""^ '"" *'' """" ^O"- "^ " As- 
 
 I believe it's your block I " 
 " So it is I " said Richard. 
 
 u^^ bTt- :^:i^.ztiz :s 
 
 You 11 have to stay with me to-night" said Tom 
 
 "° y^rd'o" -t 'T'^ "'''' "^'^ *-o„CTr 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 ^: 
 
 59 
 
 " Too late to rescue it now," replied Tom, holding 
 Richard back, for he had made an involuntary move- 
 ment forward, as if in the thought of rushing into the 
 burning building. 
 
 " My poor book I " said Richard, gulping down 
 almost a sob. "Come, Tom, let's go. I can't tyn;.;- to 
 stay here and see it cremated. I feel too n uch lik.; i 
 near relative." 
 
 " What will you do, Dick ? " asked Tom, vhc felt foi 
 the misfortune as if it had been his own, 
 
 Richard looked up as they walked along, ana a tear 
 glittered on his cheek. But he answered quietly :— 
 
 " I will write it over again, Tom." 
 
6o 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 In Him was life.— Saint John. 
 
 ...n^° °? ?"^* ^ P'"°" *^° ^"t^« "'"ch can under- 
 
 scnpt of Richard's book. It had been the work of eight 
 mo« hs incessant labor. The pile of paper itself was 
 nearly a foot thick. Even supposing he could reme Je 
 
 sTx LZ '"'^-^ ^"'*^"' •' ^°"'^ ^^'^'^ ^^'^^'^ ^t least 
 MX n'onths writing over five hours a day, to reproduce 
 
 were fa^ili^l "T'^'l ^'^ ^^"^'•^^ P'°^ ^^ ^^^--ters 
 were famihar to him. he knew it would be impossible 
 
 to recast the scenes and incidents as first written He 
 
 sph oThir?" ''^'"' ^"' '' '"* '' ^^-^^ *° h-.^n 
 spite of his brave answer to Tom's question that he 
 
 Sdef " W u' *'°"^'* •'^ ^"-P*-^ the ta^k again 
 Besides, what hope was there in rewriting a book tha 
 
 had been refused by so many publishers ? ^It wouM only 
 
 f' th Tn tL h : rV',r"^*'- ^"*' *^-' he had such 
 faith in the book I Talking it over with Tom afljer 
 
 JZ^uX""'' '^^^ °'^'^ strengthened his purpose 
 
 S det'ermTn.T- '^T'''.^'^* ^''''''' ^^ obstinafe in 
 his determination to rewrite the book and ought *d take 
 
 the fire as a dispensation of Providence and a sign hat 
 he ought not to write it over. 
 
 aga^DLrr '°" '° "''' '* ^''^^ ^- ««* •* -"«en 
 
 "There are publishers in New York as well as in 
 Chicago," replied Richard cheertuJly. 
 
 BolLt'' mv V'r "'"■' ^"''''^^^" '" Shanghai and 
 &r-.t nst. ^nu X shouid think at a dollar and ten 
 
 t 
 t 
 
 y 
 
 V 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 6i 
 
 cents a day heaving coal you could earn enough in six 
 months to pay postage on the manuscript both ways." 
 Richard looked at Tom and laughed. 
 " You may poke fun all you wish. But the child of 
 my brain is very dear to me. Yes," he went on, talking 
 to himself more than to Tom, " I may be called the prize 
 egotist of Chicago, but I do believe in my book, and if 
 I Jiever get a publisher, 1 shall believe in it clear to the 
 end of every chapter. If a man doesn't beli-ve in his 
 own work, Tom," he said, coming out of his meditation, 
 how can he maintain his self-respect ? " 
 "Can't, of course. I admire your grit, Dick, and if 
 you forget some of the finer passages in the book when 
 you get to work on it again, perhaps I can supply a few 
 original ideas that will do just as well." 
 
 "Much obliged," replied Richard] with his usual 
 gravity at Tom's absurd speeches. 
 
 Then the talk about the sermon so rudely interrupted 
 by the fire was resumed, and from that it was an easy 
 transition to the preacher himself. 
 
 "Suppose we go and call this week Saturday," said 
 Richard. 
 
 "I don't care, if I can get oflF. Wonder how it would 
 do to report the call for the morning edition," added 
 Tom, his reporter instincts coming to the front " It 
 wouldn't look bad, would it, to get half a column called 
 John King at home I A Glance Into the Famous 
 Preacher's Study ! His Methods of Sermonizing.' " 
 Richard bristled up at this. 
 
 " Tom, if you take a note, or breathe a syllable into 
 the paper of our call, I will cut you oflf with a nickel I 
 will never loan you that hundred dollars when I get the 
 thousand-dollar check for my book." 
 
 "It fwill be a pity, though, to let such a good chance 
 go by. King is a hard man to get into the papers, and 
 yet no man furnishes such good copy. All right. I 
 WOm't do anvthincjr Of /^o"r<"> if !j_».^ t » . -. « 
 
 we go m evening dress ? " 
 
62 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 I t 
 
 "Tom, you'd better go to bed. Who ever heard of 
 calhng on John King in evening dress ? Besides, you 
 know all my clothes, such as they are, are devoured by 
 the flames." 
 
 " It's lucky we both wear number fifteen and a half 
 collars, isn't it ? " put in the irrepressible Tom. " And if 
 you'll sharpen up the old razor, I'll let you use half of 
 It." 
 
 Tom was in high spirits at the prospect of having 
 Richard with him again. It had been a source of vexation 
 to him that when Richard came to the city he had 
 refused to room with his old chum. He Lad good reasons 
 tor It. He needed a room all by himself, where he could 
 think and talk aloud,, and walk up and dawn, and write 
 at the book, perfectly 'secure from interruption. So he had 
 taken his own room. But now that the fire had thrown 
 him upon Tom's boundless hospitality and he could not 
 help himself, he, as well as Tom, felt a glow of pleasure. 
 ^^ This as like the old times, isn't it, chum ?" said Tom 
 If we only had that old student lamp we bought in our 
 freshman's year I Do you remember what a curious 
 trick It had of going out without a second's warning and 
 for no apparent reason, leaving us totally in the dark 
 and generally without a match in the room ?" 
 
 " Yes, and do you remember the habit you had of 
 tilling the old thing while it was lighted ?" 
 
 " Yes, I guess I do. And how you used to retire into 
 the closet until the explosion was over. But I don't 
 remember that it ever blew up but once, and then it 
 
 :::ms%i:k ."' '"* '"°"^"^'^- ^°- ^-^ ^^° ^^^^ 
 
 And so the two talked late into the night, until Rich- 
 
 u'Tu ^.^J^T ^'* ^'' ''"^P ^°'" ^^^ morrow's work. 
 R,M. "V '^jf, '^o'"' "Sing and taking down his 
 
 Bible. You read," he said to Richard. 
 
 It had been their regular college habit and it seemed 
 very natural to Tom that the custom should be observed 
 oHv. x„ tfte uld toilcge aays Tom sometimes read a 
 
 ; ^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 63 
 
 portion of Scripture, but he never offered prayer 
 Richard read a part of the One Hundred and Third 
 Jr^salm and then prayed as naturally as he talked. It was 
 the way his mother had taught him to do 
 
 "Gracious Master." he said, - Ihou hast been good to 
 us. We have been spared this day. We have health and 
 power of body and mind. And if some things have hap- 
 pened nay Lord, not happened.-I did not mean that,- 
 but If we have been unable to know why some things 
 have been allowed, we feel quite sure eternity will be 
 ong enough to explain them in ; and we can wait. One 
 thing we know. We love Thee. As we sleep we com- 
 
 dtr T i *'!^"^.°'■'•°^ has its hardships or temptations, 
 
 tit tt 'V"°u '^^° ^'^'^ ''' "-^^P^ ^'^^ them o; 
 us strength through them ? We can trust it all with Thee 
 Our greatest desire is to do Thy will. Make us strong 
 to do It. And may our night's repose be that of those 
 who lean as hard as they need on the divine right arm 
 and our morning waking be that of those who behold in 
 every turning of the earth about the sun another and a 
 newer opportunity to bless the race of men and glorify 
 the name of God. In Christ's name. Amen" 
 
 Nothing of special interest occurred during the week 
 
 ^o L'at'lh? °' f'^ '7 ^'^"'^- ""'^'^'^ continued his 
 worta at the coal yard, and at Tom's earnest request 
 
 remained at Tom's room with him, taking his evening 
 
 t:::\:'Jr''''\ when Saturday night ^ame the " w^ 
 went to call on the preacher. 
 
 them ^.n ^'"^ r' "^ '" ^'' '*"^y- The servant told 
 them to go right up and knock at the first door at the 
 head of the land ng. A strong and cheerful voice said :- 
 Come in ! and they entered, their interest in the 
 coming interview with the great preacher heightened bv 
 the very first thing they saw. smenea by 
 
 What they saw was a long and rather narrow room 
 not very high, surrounded on three sides bv hnn1,c 1.' 
 pictures and at the farther end what looked like "a car" 
 
n 
 
 ; i. 
 
 64 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 penter shop and a chemical laboratory. John King was 
 sitting by a bench bending over a retort. He said as 
 the young men came in : — 
 
 "Just sit down a minute, gentlemen, and I will be 
 at leisure soon. I am experimenting on some chemicals 
 for my night school." 
 
 Richard and Tom sat down and watched the experi- 
 ment and the man who was making it. Truly they spoke 
 the trvth who said Nature had dealt kindly with John 
 King. He had the figure of an athlete, a little stouter 
 than one would be who was in training for a race, but a 
 rugged frame withal, a royal head crowned with black 
 curly hair, and a general air of superabundant vitality 
 that made one feel rested with him. 
 
 After a moment he seetvied satisfied with the precip- 
 itate in the vessel, and laying it down on the bench, 
 greeted his visitors with a heartiness that made them 
 feel as if they had known him a lifetime. That was one 
 of the charms about John King— he had no secrets from 
 men ; he wanted to share everything with them : and 
 that was one reason all sorts of men trusted him. 
 
 " This is the reporter, is it ?" he asked as he shook 
 Tom's hand. 
 
 " Yes, sir. But I am not a reporter to-night. I 
 promise not to put you into the paper." 
 
 John King smiled. "Do yqu know," he said, "I 
 consider the newspaper profession one of the noblest 
 on earth, almost next to the ministry for its opportuni- 
 ties.^ I came very near going into journalism myself." 
 
 " You would have made a good one, sir," said Tom, 
 wondering at himself for his familiarity with the great 
 preacher. 
 
 "What. makes you think so?" asked King, looking 
 amused and pleased at Tom's frankness. 
 
 " Because you stick to facts so closely in your preach- 
 ing," replied the unblushing Tom. 
 
 John King laughed. " Let me show you a specimen 
 of my early reporting." He went to a desk, opened a 
 
ifiE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 65 
 
 drawer, and polled out some papers. " I began life as a 
 reporter on a city daily when I had been a year out of 
 college he continued, as he looked over the papers; 
 and I have here the very first item of local news I ever 
 worked up. Ah 1 here it is. I remember at the time I 
 was bound to succeed. The editor of the paper, in his 
 instructions told me to ascertain facts and write nothing 
 else. The first day I went out on th ^ street I heard of an 
 accident to a small boy. I inquired about the particulars, 
 and being anxious to work up a good thing.- 1 wrote up 
 the affair as follows :— 
 
 "Serious Accident.-Yesterday afternoon, as a little 
 son of Henry B. Slater was playing in the road, he was 
 InH Tm I ,^^^8°"J°^d of bricks and his right foot 
 and ankle badly crushed. The Rev. John McGaw hap- 
 pened to be passing at the time and carried the boy 
 
 trTh' 1. "■ ^T^ '"^ J°"" ^''^ summoned and set 
 the b oken ankle. The boy is in a precarious condition. 
 
 recovery/'"' '"*"*^'"^<* concerning the chances for his 
 
 "This was printed in the next morning's paper. The 
 
 hrhande'd ^ '''°''- T""^' '''' '°"°-'"« ^«""' ^^ich 
 he handed to me without any comments :— 
 
 " Dear Sir,-Permit me to correct a little item of news 
 in your issue of yesterday. It was an item headed 'Serious 
 Accident and described the running over by a load of 
 br cks of a little son of Henry B. Slater. It was a good 
 descriptK>n of a load of bricks, but after that the narra- 
 tive lacked reliability. Allow me to say that the !,oy's 
 name ^as not Slater but Silver, and his father's name was 
 
 were nT • " Y 5^'°" ^^ "^^^ ^°^'^ ^°^' «"d -"kle 
 iXTr""""^- 7^' '^"^ ^^' *'"■" ^'•°'" his little toe 
 so that the wound was painful, but not serious I 
 
 mT'" .r '^^ ^"°" ''^''''^ t° «« Rev. John 
 McGaw, Mv name is Mpf;ro*h —J t ._, . T . 
 
 HrQ «:«,:*u ' J T " ' ""^ i «m 3 minister. 
 
 LTs. bmith and Jones were not present, but Dr. Rob- 
 
66 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 inson who happened to be going by, dressed the wound 
 and the boy will be playing on the street in a day or 
 two. ready to be killed again. I am. very respectfully, 
 yours for accuracy, " 
 
 James (not John) McGrath." 
 
 "That ended my journalism with thpt paper." said 
 the preacher, with such a good-humored look at Tom 
 that he won his confidence at o-;- 1, 
 
 Richard sat thus far in silenc,% fceih jr a little mbar- 
 rassed, wondering if John King reneni.-rcd him in his 
 edacity as driver of the coal wagou. He wa. not long 
 left in doubt. John King had a g. jd way of coming 
 right to the point. 
 
 He turned to Richard) wiih a look of frank inquiry. 
 It is none of my business, but I have been curious . 
 to knov. how a young man like you happens to be driving 
 a coal wagon." * 
 
 Richarc looked into John King's clear, earnest gray 
 eyes and then told him the whole story. He said after- 
 ward he couldn't help it. It seemed to him that stalwart 
 figure sitting by €,, bench in that unique room demanded 
 the story of him. So it all came out, the history of the 
 book and all. And by the time Richard finished, the 
 man- who sat opposite had had a good look into the 
 young author s inner life and feelings. He had interrupted 
 with a question or an exclamation now and then during 
 the narrative, and when Richard spoke of his motive in 
 going to work on the coal barge he nodded as if under- 
 standing it. When he reached the account of the fire and 
 the burning of his book, John King leaned back in his 
 chair and clasped his hands over the back of his head • 
 and when Richard said quietly that he meant to wr^e the 
 book again, the preacher rose and walked up and down 
 thejoom. Just the way you do, Dick," whispered 
 
 The preacher paused in his walk close I / -ichard and 
 laid his hand on his shouldsr. 
 
 'J. 
 3 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 67 
 
 'J. 
 
 " My brother," he exclaimed, " I thank you for telling 
 me your story. It reminded me of much in my own 
 younger days. Some time I will tell you about it. But 
 I want you to do some work for me. You must leave 
 y )ur work at the coal yard and teach the boys in my 
 evening school." 
 
 Richard looked thoughtful. Tom broke in :— 
 " I think it's a shame Dick is in that business. Mr. 
 King, he's as obstinate as a Rocky Mountain burro. 
 But I'll tell you how you can get him to do something 
 else. Offer him less pay. Then he'll think he ought to 
 do it, sure." 
 
 "Very well," replied John King with an honest 
 twmkle of the eyes, turning to Richard. " What are you 
 getting now ?" 
 
 " One dollar and ten cents a day," said Richard. 
 "Well, I cannot oflfer you more than one dollar an 
 evening. The board will not allow more for the special 
 night schools just started." 
 
 " There you are, Dick. Better accept the offer. No- 
 body could say you changed parishes for the sake of the 
 salary." put in Tom, unmindful of where he was. The 
 fact was, Tom felt as completely at home with the great 
 man as if he had known him always. » 
 
 What is the work ? " asked Richard, feeling that a 
 crisis of some sort was ahead of him, but quite ready to 
 rely much on this new friendship of the strong man who 
 had drawn him so completely out of himself. 
 
 "You will have to teach the common branches to a 
 school of boys picked off the street ; from seven to nine 
 m the evening. Rough work. This school I have in 
 mmd I call mine. It is simply a school containing boys 
 that I have been able to get to come. I want the right 
 young man for a teacher. I believe you could do the 
 work admirably. Then you would have more time for the 
 rewriting of your book." 
 
 Richard exclaimed, " I hadn't thought of that! Well, 
 sir, rli do it. When shall I begin ?" 
 
68 
 
 w 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "You can start in next Monday night I'll ao ^itu 
 you and launch you into the work Now that's settTd 
 tell me more about the book " ' 
 
 hist?adoVTohnt•''^"""^' ^'"^^*^^ -^ P'- oi 
 ills creation. John King listened intently 
 
 Hy the way." he said, "when you finish it ai.;,;n 
 
 :'tir:c:t^rr °^ '"^^^^^"^' -d'Tate -trme 
 
 that it woXlke be^nr^Tt ^0::^ -^ ^--^ion 
 
 u IJ'^"} *'?°"»ht of it." replied Richard, 
 reject ?"tkedTom'"^ '""* "'^^ ^" the publishers 
 
 papers." "^ "^^ " '* """^ '"'"^' ^ ^°"W offer it to the 
 
 The talk drifted into literature in general Nnmp. f 
 famous authors came ud " Th.f «! f ^""*'- -Names of 
 claimed King. iumpLg'up. ^^vTur T '''r''" T 
 b^e ^.rested in my aut^h ^ J^I^^^Ci'^ 
 
 book.\rhanI?i; ^trt Tom^^t ^^"'^^^ ^-^■ 
 break the Tenth Comr^Ll ^"'";^^° ^t once began to 
 
 mgenious manner succeeded iT J tin^sevr^^^ 
 
 ones. But here was a fea.f ^^tting several famous 
 
 the week that one saw such welkin' "°' ''''' ^'^ '" 
 all together in penmanshin !!f-^"°^" "^^n represented 
 
 Gladstone ; ano'th^ ^rom ^uTgeTn "roth^f ""^ '''"' 
 rare, from Tennyson. Walter S?n..'' ,, f ' ^"^^^ '"^''^ 
 ture and Charles Dick.nT-, ' ^ell-known signa- 
 
 the same page wh le Fr.H ^i "^^ '^^^^^^ °"* f'-°'" 
 Beecher and Phimn Broor f ^"*^°"' ^^"'"y ^ard . 
 known writts and oio '7''^ " '"^'"^ °^ ^^h^*" ^e"' 
 lection ProSy^leTurdl^^^^^^^^^^ ^-^- 
 
 breaths as he gazed at the names "' "^^"^ '"" '°"«^ 
 
 is this book for sale ?" he asked. 
 
 Not yet. answered John King, with a genial look 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 69 
 
 will pass into the hands of some one who will appreciate 
 It as much as you seem to " "Appreciate 
 
 Joh^Kfnrt'oM ""'' '""'■' ^'^^"^^'^^ °^ ""^-^d men, and 
 
 he had me. ^ n • """^ "^ '^° '"^^^°*" °^ ^-'"O"^ P ople 
 he had met, tellmg everything in the most simple ch.ld- 
 
 .ke way. but causing Tom and Richard to listen brath • 
 essly, perfectly carried away by this actual nearneT to 
 
 flZTZ °' ''"^^- ""'''''' -- ''^ «- - -^e 
 
 s the busiest man in the city. Will you forgive us^r 
 
 for taking up so much of your time ?'' ' ' 
 
 Perhaps just such calls and acquaintances as thi, 
 
 srho, 1 T u n 1 , , "^ ^ " 8^0 with you to the 
 
 brick's r't,J°T" '^'"S. " " '"■''^''-> "''ole load of 
 bncks I sa,d Tom, calling ,he preacher's story of reoort 
 •ng to mmd as the two walked home "^ 
 
 He certainly is a wonderful man. I believe I ,„H 
 ha^p^.'^A'"^' ■ '^'■■' -"-<■ R-hard. ..r„'did J 
 
 everyi„mosuJthf;:?of;o''„?CnT..'"'' "'^" "°™ 
 
 an interest all alive with Z. T? , """ '"'"«- 
 l?ve for all men. 'iflict i^ f hTt^e"; T'"; 
 John King's power." " "^ ^''"*^^ <^f 
 
70 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 This call made a deep impression on both young 
 men, and when they faced the preacher again on the 
 Sunday evening they had a feeling of pleasurable pride 
 in thmking of their acquaintance with him, for John Kii - 
 was at this time the best-known man in America. Famous 
 people on both sides of tne water called him friend : 
 and yet through all the adulation and flattery, and criti- 
 cism of friend and foe, he moved aiong with a simplicity 
 which was real greatness, is one great passion being a 
 love of men. 
 
 His sermon this ev,:n"ng was entirely different from 
 any that Tom and Richard ever heard him preach before. 
 Usually his address was devoid of what men call oratory 
 or even eloquence. This evening he seemed to come out 
 of a communion with an unseen but powerful presence 
 that inflamed action and ^wept his thought along like a 
 prairie fire with a raging wind behind it. 
 
 His text was in the first chapter of John's Gospel, the 
 fourth verse: "In hini was life." And after showing 
 that the writer must have had in his mind something 
 far more searching than the conception of physical or 
 even moral existence, he went on, face and form and 
 voice growing in intensity of expression to the c'nse, 
 
 "The life that flows through our existence is but n 
 sluggish ditch compared with the full, dee- powerfnl cur- 
 rent pressing both banks full to the brii. ".vhich flowed 
 through the being of our blessed Lord, 
 
 "Some time when your body is entirely free from 
 weakness or disease of a.iy kind, wi, i you ^re on terms 
 of the most loving intimacy with God and rnan. when 
 the air seems like the fabled food of the Greek gods, and 
 the arching firmament is a curtain of amethyst adorned 
 with silver-encircled diamonds of light, when it is 
 exquisite luxury to breathe and an unsperkble deligf 
 to love and a profound joy t pray, when you think 
 God as a Father an(4 man as a brother-then you may 
 know something oi the meaning of life as a tide set- 
 ting in toward the shore, rising ovei dead seaweed, wash- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 71 
 
 ing the dull pebbles into a brighter color, filling every 
 little nook and inlet and splashing its crested foam even 
 over the high-water mark of an ordinary sea rising. 
 But even all that must be far below the existence of 
 Christ, who iived on the manward side as we never do. 
 Way. in him it was not alone a tide, ebbing and flowing; 
 't was the ocean itself, causing tides of human move- 
 ment, itself the source and fountain of all most heavenly, 
 most divine. 
 
 "In Christ was life, because his moral fiber and 
 tissue were free from disease. Every faculty of his 
 sou worked without friction. The parts were all per- 
 fectly adjusted. They moved in due harmony of pro- 
 portion. The benumbing hand of sin was never laid on 
 his pure existence. Temptation he knew, but not the 
 shame oi yielding. Sorrow was his guest, but never 
 Remorse. Prayer was his daily breath, but never a prayer 
 of repentai: The vision of his soul was clear. Thr 
 b'-ating of his heart was true. The grasp of his thought 
 was firm. Wo ,0 us if Christ were not sinless ! He 
 could lay no < .aim to f^t possession of a unique life if he 
 had once lei that rof Sin. break into the sanctity of 
 his person He has o, <en into every other soul. He 
 had robbed us of air and ligh* and other jewels of full- 
 adorned ex.stcr re ; but he was not able to overcome our 
 T^ord and Master. And the life that was in him suffered 
 no loss, but was rich with a wealth that never knew theft 
 or repression. The wages of sin is death, and in Christ 
 was life because he never knew even the slightest shock 
 of that paralysis which the human race has all felt since 
 it first chose freely between good and evil 
 
 "But. also, in Christ was life because of the life He 
 could give to others. That is to have life ind. od! To 
 have enough and to spare-that is the wonder of it To 
 be able to give out so abundantly and continuously and 
 yet reserve «i. greatest exhibition for the very last-that 
 ispowerj For He rose of Himself from the dead. He 
 ^s« .xe ::„^ power to lay His life down, and .ower to take 
 
 
11 
 
 72 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 t again. No one saw Cl.risf s resurrection It was a sight 
 Tsteri '" ''\ ""paralleled solemnity and tremendous 
 myster.ousness for even the glittering angel who rolled 
 
 a' d m T" '"'' '^' "P°" ''-^^*" ^°'- '""^ t° behold. 
 And >ct He was so like a frozen flash of light in His 
 
 TS^tT ?/'*' '-'^ "'• ^"'^'^-"'^ ^""* ''-" -t 'f 
 
 .ndiffc c, . r ' ^^ '''' ^^^^^^"^^' '^'•"'a'. stolid, 
 
 nd.ff ra,t. yet m.ht.ry machines of Roman soldiers fe! 
 
 hke dead n,en m their fright all around the tomb No 
 
 seenranv a" ''''7l\ """"^^^' ^'^^ ^'^^ ^-btiess' 
 the n esen/ T"^""'"' ^'^'^^ '" '''^^^^"'^ ^^'^''^"^ before 
 not l; n r °^ '"— -ble other beings like himself- 
 not even he was permuted to witness the coming to life 
 
 racled with ,T ''T' '^''^^ '"^^ ^'^^^ ^^'^ «"" 
 
 racked with torture on, the cross. Was it a gradual 
 
 cIS 'liktM °' ^^^"f -^*-". gentle, almost Tmp r 
 the' scat'te cH ^ T ""'^ *'''* ^""^^^''"^ ""P« 'ver 
 did M . ""^^ '■'^''"^ "'^^ *he sun-rising ? Or 
 
 d.d the form nse at once, the Jesus of life, the same yet 
 
 thrust in the side yet visible, but the form itself naHsine 
 ou of the cold, dark sepulchre into the peac p'r mf 
 of that garden, so different from Gethsemane. now rolkd 
 away mto the past, but never to be effaced from t^e h art 
 or memory of redeemed mankind ? How shall we ever 
 
 1 he Lord of he and glory conquered the last grim enemy 
 
 hreshold as Christ shook off his clammy fetters and 
 swept them into the farthest corner of the tomb folded 
 
 he garments of his burial with a calmness which be 
 tokened no hasty terror of his grisly surroundings and 
 with the first breath of his newly created being diss;ited 
 once and forever the icy chill of Death's emb^ac s 'O 
 
 torv^' f7" ", ?^, ' u"^ • ^ ^^^^^' -'^"^ - thy vic- 
 
 trTnLhofd "^ ^^1 ^u '""'" '""'^ °"* °f thine own 
 stronghold. Henceforth thou art doomed to skulk 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 7i 
 
 through the world, no longer a terror to the Christian. 
 
 enenwTf .r K /'' ''^'^' ^'^°" ^^«'"« '^"^ P^-erless 
 care we r ^'^^iT^n^te that, if thou choosest! What 
 
 toot- our nn?" °" ^""''^ '''^ ^°"' ^ ^'^^^ Christ who 
 rot fi H .' ""'"^ '° ""''' ^''^"^ f^"- «"r ^akcs. and far 
 
 rom finding thee a formidable foe. after letting thee do 
 
 ndsXV; T'l' '''' °^ ^°"'-^ -^'^ th/coldness 
 
 thee TruTv ' *" '" ^'" ""' '"'"'"°"^'^ *° ^"'«* 
 
 inee. iruly m Him was life! 
 
 "We read the story of Christ. We carelessly discuss 
 ptr of :• "T' '"' '"^ ^"'^ ^^"^ ^ "^'-^^om f'rom th 
 morl than "^ T"'""?" ^"* ^^'" ^^ ^^^^ "^^ swep 
 
 Ter s n'Virn^ ^^ 1 '^' '"^^^""^"^ ^^^^ ^^all here- 
 a ter smg H.s power. I expect to know Him sometime 
 
 to s^udHh;? '"''• • '' ^^'" ""' ' ^^^' °f cternitys'e on 
 o udy the Incarnation. But until that more perfect time 
 
 o d scZe ^H ° K '"-^'"'^ ^^'^^ °^ P-^' shall' wngoiTn 
 o disclose the beauties of that ceK'stial throne of God 
 
 oreTa'st'Tr"' ^°"'' ^'^"^^ ^''^^ ^e to m'my if^ 
 
 ". . "]• .^°' I can't see him to-night" he <;a;H in o 
 boo. and RichaXTd huTlb "Th IS:^ V "Z 
 
 and as ,ree„ a, .h;'^d":^'3sea'^l: ^ .^p f "T^Z 
 
 o_i ,..ra ..,al he haa lou.id a new job. He had been 
 
 i 
 
74 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 working by the day, and was under no obligation to stay 
 any longer than he chose. The foreman expressed his 
 regret. •' You're the best hand I ever had at this job. 
 Sorry to lose ye. There'll be more swearin' when you're 
 gone. The boys kind o' let up when you're around. They 
 have an idea you don't like it. But they've been on a 
 terrible strain, an' 'tain't in nature to keep from swearin' 
 in this business very long. Well, good luck to yel Come 
 an' see us. My wife don't forget the little present you 
 gave her to give to Mrs. Inness. She was mighty 
 thankful for it, I can tell ye." 
 
 Richard was surprised to find how much attached to 
 the foreman and two or three of the men he had grown 
 to be. He shook hands all around, and as he went into 
 the barge office to get an article of clothing and came 
 out and walked away, he felt a tear roll down his cheek 
 as the foreman waved a grimy hand at him in farewell. 
 He had come in touch with a very rough and dirty hu- 
 manity, but under its grime and hardness beat a heart 
 that throbbed true to feelings of tenderness and justice 
 and brotherhood; and he felt that his experience there 
 in that old barge had given him something which ail his 
 college course did not supply. He was not sorry that 
 he had worked there. He knew men better for it, and 
 loved them more. 
 
 He took tea with Mr. King that evening. The 
 preacher lived with his sister, a pleasant but very quiet 
 lady who worshipped her brother, and regarded his 
 slightest wish as law. If he had given the house and all 
 in It to the first stranger that came along, she would 
 have considered it all right, and gone out into the street 
 with her brother without a word of remonstrance or 
 objection. The most remarkable gatherings of people 
 met around John King's table. Distinguished persons. ' 
 whose names were in the papers, and who were known 
 around the world, saL down by the side of John King's 
 neighbors who had hardly gone out of the ward in which 
 they were born. It was not an uncommon thing for a 
 
 >*'vii 
 
 h 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 75 
 
 I 
 
 poor, everyday workingman to have an invitation to John 
 King's house to meet a famous author or platform orator 
 or scientist. King said, " My Master, Jesus Christ, used 
 to eat with fishermen and day laborers, and He was a 
 king. If my guests will not associate with persons who 
 would be the compaions of Christ if He were again on 
 earth, then they are no guests of mine. My house is His. 
 If Jesus were to come in as a carpenter, and the most 
 famous man on earth refused to sit beside Him, I would 
 show that famous man to the door." So it came to pass 
 that the company at John King's was often a remarkable 
 assemblage of rich and poor, .of authors and preachers 
 and laborers and inventors and poor students and strug- 
 gling young doctors and world-renowned statesmen and 
 next-door neighbors. For most men this would have 
 been a dangerous experiment. The difficulties in the way 
 of making the different kinds of people mix up well would 
 have been almost insurmountable. But King managed 
 somehow to harmonize the most heterogeneal company. 
 It was his overflowing love for men that made it possible. 
 , This evening Richard was the only guest; but it was 
 a wonderful treat to him to meet this man in his own 
 home on terms of such intimacy. The hour passed all 
 too quickly, and before seven o'clock struck Richard was 
 won to John King. He would have followed him around 
 the globfi. 
 
 "Weil, suppose we start along to the school," said 
 the host as the hour struck. " We'll have just a])out time 
 to walk over there." 
 
 As they walked along King explained the purpose of 
 the night schools. They were supported by the city, the 
 Board of Education renting and warming and lighting the 
 various rooms and selecting the teachers through an ad- 
 visory board, of which King was chairman. The par- 
 ticular school where he wished to place Ridiard had been 
 the terror of every teacher in charge. The boys and 
 young men who attended were, for the most part, the 
 .Roughest and wildest in the city. It was only the week 
 
 
7^ 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 before Richard's call that the man in charge of the school 
 had g.ven notice to the board that he could not Lp^y 
 
 ie sa d"to7 T-.. v'^ ."""^^ J°^" ^-« -- R-ha'rd 
 he said to himself,, You're my man." When he heard 
 
 t.Td^T ''' 'T. ^^ -^ -- ^hat Richat: could 
 make himself very useful in the charge of those boys 
 Ihe schoolroom was an old warehouse near the river 
 
 benches and supplied with blackboards and several good 
 maps. It was a fair-sized room, seating about fifty The 
 room was filling up rapidly as they wfnt in. S snow 
 
 rX wo"' ^"\^\^^^^^d P-ed along the Si cor^ 
 r dor two very hard snowballs whizzed by his ear and 
 struck the wall by the door. He did not even look 
 around, but quietly followed John King into tl^ro^m 
 
 b^ll on thet r".' '"f/'^ P'"^^^^^'- «^-^k a smal 
 bell on the desk, and spoki. There certainly was a fas- 
 
 aTdilncV'^"' John King when he faced any' kTd of an 
 
 "vi^?''" u' '^''^' speaking very quietly and lovingly 
 
 willike'l^ ^°" ' "°""« '"^" ^' - *^^^her that you 
 will like; I know you will. His name is Mr. Bruce and 
 I want you to treat him well. You have not been fair 
 to the other teachers. Remember yoq are fifty to one 
 What would you think ot one of yourVwn number get 
 
 dIowrr„rvett?°'^ " ^'^ ^"" HdrTnfsS 
 lehow ? And yet that is just what every one of you does 
 
 hTLchTr'lf "/'' '""^ ''''^' t/make7hott 
 tne teacher. I don t want to think that one of my bovs 
 
 e": ''i::::t "it ^ -^^^^ °^ ^°- ~^^^ 
 
 nere. Remember what the good God made you for 
 There isn't a brighter set of boys in America Don't le" 
 me have reason to be ashamed of you. I love you bovs 
 
 too w" '-u'' r' ' "^"^ ^°" *° ^'^^ -« proud if yo/ 
 
 In^" uT Z 'f' "P '^' '■^*^"'" '"««"«' and I will stay 
 and help Mr. Bruce to-night." ^ 
 
 Richard never forgot that first night of his nisht- 
 3chool experience. It was worth a good deal to se7thc 
 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 W 
 
 77 
 
 famous preacher, with infinite patience and the most 
 loving sympathy, bending his tall form over some coarse, 
 dirty, ragged urchin, teaching him the very first rudi- 
 ments of learning. The boys were noisy, and the room 
 grew close and uncomfortable, but there was no disturb- 
 ance to speak of. The whole school was under the influ- 
 ence of King. There was one boy, however, whom 
 Richard picked out at once as a ringleader, a " tough " 
 in every sense of that much-abused epithet. He went by 
 the name of Con. His face was the worst face in a room 
 full of coarse, hard faces. Richard wondered what there 
 was in it to redeem it, and during the evening studied it 
 to find a good point somewhere, b^t failed. Going home 
 he mentioned this face to the preacher. 
 
 He nodded thoughtfully. " Yes, I know that boy. He 
 is the only boy I never had any influence over. I have 
 sometimes been tempted to believe that he is simply a 
 devil in human shape. He has a satanic face. Perhaps 
 you can touch him somewhere, Bruce; he may be yours 
 to redeem. Think of that as a possibility." 
 
 The words made a deep impression on Richard, and 
 helped him greatly in the trying scenes that were to 
 follow. 
 
 He went to his work the next night with some misgiv- 
 ing. But he opened his school with singing, and soon 
 found that his boys could sing like a tornado. THey liked 
 it, and Richard felt encouraged. It was a hopeful sign. 
 After singing " Marching through Georgia " and " John 
 Brown's Body" and '"Way Down Upon the Suwance 
 River," some of the boys, led by the boy Con, began to 
 stamp their feet. Richard did not appear to notice it, 
 and when the song was finished he gave out a popular 
 street tune of the day, singing the solo part himself and 
 asking the boys to join in the chorus. Richard had a 
 good bass voice, and the boys listened to him quietly, 
 joining in the chorus with a heartiness which made every- 
 thing in tbe old room rattle. There was the same d!<=- 
 
78 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 p°idT.t„°;"'' "T" "■■"' Con ,af, b„, Richard 
 paid no attention and at once began the lessons. 
 
 grew estwT'.f'" °" '°""'-' "'"' "''""=''• '"e school 
 grew restless, the no.se increased, and the liftv bovs 
 
 h Tfbimr" ? r™'"' '*'^-"'' '° "■= '"" -""' o 
 ." irh Is": *yrT;ttt\';i%7" °" *= "°- 
 
 of^the younger bo,s to ll' hL^fs roTL'sL"": 
 
 wTtra'^TaS; t' 'T'r\rt' "'" ""-"■ -" ^"-^ 
 In !n he r^ ,5°"';'' '"'■'"'' "■"• '"'Wng a deep 
 
 "Great roHl T^ \ "' '""' ""= '*""'«^' '" «' "i-d, 
 Oreat Godl It that stone had struck me in the hetd 
 
 ok"? .'.r sT,™'"-, "'" ■" ^-^'-ed^p'l^'d 
 
 £JlTa^fh^fsresl^it:c"-ie:^rL^™ 
 J'^^^s-;i:^rtiX,r^i-,fcf 
 
 The ho, squirmed and twisted, and even k eked at 
 
 auaei Mash his mug for him, Jimmy!" But Unn,;,, 
 m.ffht as well have tried to get ^ut oT a bear l^ T^ 
 was not for nothing that Richard Bruce had been ailed 
 the strongest man in college, and held his own s ngfe 
 handed aga.nst every other champion iu the intercoJ 
 
 la'nd an'd ""• ""' '^'* ^^^'^^^^^ °^ '^ ^^-^ Length of 
 hand and arm now, and held the boy as easily as mos 
 
 boy had had enough he let go of him and told him to sit 
 down and turning to the school said in tones o7 Lx 
 
 TnTti'/"''" ^"' "'"^•^^' "^°^«' I love yo"! 
 want to do you good. Why don't you let me ? I am 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 79 
 
 t 
 
 Won't you 
 
 not your enemy. I am your best friend, 
 bcheve it ? School is dismissed." 
 
 The boys went out quietly for them. Jimmy was the 
 
 Kichard had its effect upon the boys. They were begin- 
 ning to respect him. They were puzzled, too. The 1 ^t 
 
 ha a man as strong as that did not mean to do any 
 ^kn a , ,„y^^^.^y ..^^, ^ he do some 
 
 whalin' If he started in!" said one small boy. who had 
 
 ftifseTt T °P-,^^" -hen Jimmy wasM^d ou 
 
 teria not tn 7T '"^ '"'" '"^^ ^ '^'''' ^^^^e of ma- 
 terial not to put that muscle into practical use. 
 
 was dl'rminTJ T' '°"' '" I ^'^"^'^^f"' '"^"d' ^ut he 
 was determ ned to win over that school to a boy. It was 
 
 almost as plain to him as if he had seen it that Con had 
 t wTuld rLrr '' '""■ '^ ^"" ^-^ reallyTdev!' 
 by^" weTpts'of Ur" ^'''' ^''' '^ -"^"- '■^- 
 But the next two nights were a trial to Richard. The 
 boy had only partly understood his speech. It was on^ 
 by the exerc.se of tremendous will power that he sue 
 c eded in keeping even fair order. Con led ofT in a so s 
 of deviltry. More than once Richard was tempted to 
 strike him or throw him out of the room. The school at 
 times boiled with that restless confusion char c e" t c 
 o the everishness of street life in big cities. Going home 
 Thursday evening Richard narrowly missed being knock 
 ed down by a heavy billet of wood thrown at him It 
 s ruck him on the shoulder and tore off skin and fiesh 
 tearing his coat badly. ' 
 
 He asked Tom to bathe the wound when he reached 
 
 XX'^i T ''""^ '""''^ ^^°"* •^' ^"t *°'d his chum 
 a little of his contest with the boy. To.r boiled ovir 
 with indignation. ""^ ^''^ 
 
 -'[If it was my school, I'd iurn in ar,d lick every last 
 boy in It until he couldn't stand uo -' r ' n^ . 
 
 fin ,> n.vi, TMi . ^" ' "^"^^ you cou d 
 
 do ^t;^D,ck._ 1 11 go with you and see fair play." 
 
 xom, isn t iove stronger than the devil ?" asked 
 
8o 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Richard; but Tom fumed away, stormed up and down 
 the room, and asked Richard if it wasn't all right to 
 shoot the devil at sight. 
 
 "I'm not going to win this fight that way, Tom. 
 I've an idea that the boys don't understand nie yet. That 
 Con is not a human being, apparently. I am thoroughly 
 convinced tha^ he threw that club at rue. It was a 
 cowardly thing to do, in the dark and behind one's back, 
 but shows the boy's depravity. I'm going to win him. 
 Tom," after a pause, " do you remember the exhibition 
 we gave once before the Reform School in Blackville 
 during the college recess ? Will you help me give it 
 again to my school on Saturday night ?" 
 
 " Old man, I'll do anything for you. Can you re- 
 member all those sleight-of-hand tricks again ?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. We can practise them to-morrov/ 
 evening. I will see John King, and he will get me some 
 apparatus I need, I am quite sure." 
 
 "All right. But there'll be a row if there's any throw- 
 ing of bricks during the performance. I'm not going 
 to have my head knocked off by a lot of city toughs 
 without hitting back." 
 
 " Tom, you'll be careful, won't you ? Remember 
 my object in giving the exhibition. I wish to win the 
 boys' respect. But if there's any fighting it will simply 
 destroy the whole eflfect of my action so far." 
 
 "All right. I won't fight any," muttered Tom ; 
 " but if that Con throws any of his missiles at me I will 
 throw him om of the window without going to the 
 trouble of opening it." 
 
 The next evening the two practiced their program, 
 Richard with great hope. When Saturday night came 
 Richard and Tom started for the school, carrying be- 
 tween them a large valise containing the apparatus for the 
 performance. Richard had given notice of the exhibition 
 the night before. 
 
 " There will be a full house." he said. 
 
 When he and Tom entered, they were greeted by a 
 
 1 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 8l 
 
 and he knew by his look thaf h. u T " ' 
 
 
82 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 For verily the Son of man came not to be ministered 
 unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom 
 many. — ^Jesus Christ 
 
 Richard's object in giving the exhibition to the school 
 was twofold. He wished to show the boys that he knew 
 something besides the studies of the schoolroom, and he 
 had a hope that he might touch the boy Con somewhere 
 by the performance. He began by a short preface on the 
 history of juggling, and told of one or two good stories 
 of famous performers. ' Then he passed at once to a 
 trick which he felt quite sure the boys had not seen per- 
 formed by any street pedlar. It consisted in seeming to 
 create a neat little bouquet in his buttonhole. It was a 
 simple thing and was done by previously passing an elas- 
 tic cord, which was fastened to the lapel of his coat, down 
 his coat sleeve to his hand. To the end of the cord was 
 attached a small artificial bouquet of colored rubber which 
 Richard held in his hand. When he let go of this, the 
 tension of the cord drew the artificial flowers up his 
 sleeve, and the bouquet appeared to fly upon his coat 
 lapel from the air, or to grow there suddenly. The boys 
 were very quiet, and seemed disposed to enjoy the show 
 for a while at least. Richard thought he had better take 
 advantage of his fickle audience in time, and proceeded 
 with one of his best tricks, which required the use of 
 Tom. 
 
 Tom was in a belligerent mood to-night. He had 
 not recovered from his indignation at the injury done to 
 his old chum, for whom he had almost the tenderness 
 of a lover. He knew that this evening Richard was suf- 
 fering intensely from the wound in his shoulder, and con- 
 
 , 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 83 
 
 . 
 
 cealing his pain with Spartan courage. Tom glanced at 
 the rough, coarse faces crowding the old warehouse with 
 almost a savage feeling at heart, and without a particle 
 of fear. He did not know what fear was, but he did know 
 what hate was, and the moment he recognized the boy 
 Con he hated him ; and he said to himself as he looked at 
 the boy : " You devil 1 If you dare to make any row 
 here to-night, I'll fling you out of the window, or my 
 name is not Tom Howard ! " All this went through 
 Tom's mmd as Richard calmly proceeded with the per- 
 formance. 
 
 " I have here," Richard befcan, with an absurd speech 
 to detract attention from other things. " the most remark- 
 able specimen of humanity ever seen. He is a native of 
 Boogaboo, in the Islands of the Moon, and was captured 
 m a wild state. He is partially tamed and will not bite 
 or kick unless very much provoked. His favorite food is 
 green strawberries and shingle nails, although he relishei 
 dried apple pie and sponge cake with mucilage for sauce. 
 Come here, sir ! " continued Richard, stretching out his 
 arm dramatically toward Tom. He grasped Tom by 
 the coat with one hand, thrust the other inside of one 
 pocket and pulled out a live rabbit, then as rapidly put 
 his hand into another pocket and extracted a bag. He 
 threw the bag down upon the table, opened it. and pulled 
 out a peck 01 turnips, two cabbages, several handfuls of 
 hay, half a dozen eggs, and as many potatoes. Then 
 holding the bag up, he exclaimed : " Well, if this isn't 
 strange I I thought it was empty!" He turned the bag 
 inside out. and there fell upon the table a bundle very 
 carefuly bound about with string. Richard untied the 
 string and took out of the bundle four little lanterns 
 each with a tiny candle in it. He set them on the edge 
 of the table and asked the nearst boy to lend him a match, 
 ihe boy grinned and said he didn't have any. "Whati" 
 said Richard, stepping down from the platform, "haven't 
 any ? Why, your hair is full of them!" He reached out 
 his hand and apparently pulled a match out of th^ hnv'« 
 
84 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 uncombed ha,r, and a roar went up from the school as 
 
 h.If T u °': r' ^'^ '^^"^ "P *° his head and picked 
 half a bunch of loose matches out of his tangled locks. 
 
 told thf bo"? '"''.'' ^ ^^"''" '" ^h« 1-^-- and 
 
 them the "^fn '"'"'."^ '^'"'- " ^'"'^ ^^^ "« ^^^ching 
 them, the wild man from Boogaboo will supply the com- 
 
 panywuh anything they desire. This is the peculiarUy 
 
 o th.s wnd man. He carries with him. or has on Tis 
 
 person any article or articles that people need Ask 
 
 for what you want and he will supply it " 
 
 desk^nir; Rthiid. ^'°"^' ' '-'' '^' ^^"^"^ - ^'^ 
 
 extJar/'''!!f r' ^'l ^^"^ "P ^° his ear. seemed to 
 extract a jackkn.fe, and tossed it at the boy. But the 
 cnes that rose all over the room were simply de^ening 
 Richard ra,sed his hand' in warning. He had seen Con 
 
 ^cc^X'TV^ T'""''"' ^" ^ '''''"^ ^hat the stS:; 
 
 hT^nH T^' V'^""^ '''°"«''' ^^ *' ""f^ a trick on which 
 
 t^^inter.toftheboys.andeveu':;^rr^^^^ 
 
 of nhvt" , . """" f "f .*° ^°"°^ '' "P by an exhibition 
 of physical strength which had no deception about it 
 
 fn. "T.r''' ' ^"'^ ''^^ °" ^he value of physical train: 
 
 ng and the necessity of keeping bodies pure and clean 
 
 m order to have the best results. But the storm broke 
 
 and°L ""r'" '°^ '" ^°" ^^^ -^^hed the school 
 and had seen that ,n a short time it would be under the 
 control of the new master. He started the restless ele- 
 
 wasyZ^f ';•".' '" ' "'=°"' ^^"^ ^«>^ '"^ the room 
 was yelhng for a different thing to be given him by the 
 
 w, d man from Boogaboo. Richard's eye flashed fire 
 
 spak%V:r^.''"V'».f P'^*^°- -d began to 
 speak. Bf rs! he said, "if you will-" That was as 
 
 far as he reached when some one threw an inkstand at 
 D^k J-l. ^Z ^"" •" '^' ^^"' «"d Tom thought 
 
 he stood there. With a cry that arose above the din. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 8S 
 
 now growing more furious, Tom leaped down upon the 
 benches regardless of everybody and made for Con. He 
 had seen him throw the bottle, and he thirsted to get hold 
 of h.m. A dozen I oys threw themselves upon Tom, but 
 he struggled away from them, and reaching Con, who 
 was trying to crowd out of the crush toward the door, 
 he seized h.m and dragged him toward one of the win- 
 dows. Tom's blood was np. and, being a tremendously 
 muscular ellow, he was determined to carry out his 
 hreat and literally throw Con through the window, glass, 
 sash, and ail. The mob around the two was t;rrible 
 borne of the worst elements in that wicked city were 
 represented in that coarse gathering of humanity, the 
 offspring of wretched poverty, disease, and incompetent 
 c.ty government. There were boys there who had wit- 
 nessed murders unmoved, and even participated in seri- 
 ous assaults and vile crimes. They would have thought 
 no more of maiming Tom for life than of torturing a dog 
 in the street. But Tom was a giant in his rage. He' had 
 
 TJ! u'\T "f"^ ''"'^''^ ^*'-"'='^' «"d was conscious 
 that he had sunk back into a chair, fainting from the 
 blow, and perhaps dying from it. All the old bloodthirsty 
 spirit of retaliation surged into Tom's heart at the sight 
 and he could have killed the boy Con with pleasure As 
 It was he meant to thrash him within an inch of his 
 ni.serable life and then throw him through the window, 
 and he dimly hoped as he dragged him toward it that the 
 fall would maim him for the rest of his days. The other 
 were IT\YT 7''^' ^^^''ything in reach. His clothes 
 Tut he fin!n i ;;'?' '" ''" '"''^^'^^ -*h blood. 
 
 the w.n r "^ u' ^'"^°^ ^"^ ^°t h'^ ^^'^ against 
 
 he wall. It was at that moment that Con, who. during 
 
 the struggle had managed to get a knife out of his pocket 
 and open ,t. stabbed Tom through his right hand, driving 
 the blade completely through his palm. It was the act 
 ln.Z n ' ^'■'"' "^ °^ P"'" "T^"^ '■«^'«^^d his hold 
 ?Z ; T '^'"'^ ^'"^ '^^^^^'y °" the face, and in 
 a moment Tom was staggering to the floor. His life 
 

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 /APPLIED ^ 
 
 J IM/IGE . Inc 
 
 ^= 1653 East Main street 
 ="-; Rochester, NY 14609 USA 
 ^ Phone: 716/482-0300 
 ^ Fax: 716/288-5989 
 
 C 1993, Applied Image, Inc., All Rights Reserved 
 
 
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 %S 
 
86 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 would not be worth a feather if once the boys got him 
 down and began to trample on him. He felt dizzy and 
 famt. Suddenly the door was thrown open and John 
 King entered, followed by three policemen. 
 
 There was a wild scramble for the windows, and a few 
 boys escaped; but the officers prevented the rest One 
 of them laid his hands on Con, recognizing him as an old 
 offender. The other boys slunk back into the room, and 
 John Kmg stooped over Tom, who had partly fallen and 
 partly leaned against a bench, faint with the struggle and 
 the terrible wound in his hand. 
 
 "Better see to Dick, sir." he groaned. " I think these 
 devils have killed him." 
 
 John King uttered a cry of sorrow, and, striding up 
 to the platform, lifted Richard from the chair where he 
 had sunk down, and laid him on the table. Then he 
 turned on the boys and said in a low but terrible tone • 
 Who did this ?" 
 Not a boy stirred. Tom cried out faintly : 
 " That devil there did it. I saw him." 
 The officer tightened his grip on Con. The boy 
 uttered no cry and made no resistance. John King 
 turned to Richard and gently wiped the blood from the 
 face. Richard stirred and began to recover conscious- 
 ness. King ordered one of the policemen to send at once 
 for an ambulance, and made one of the boys bring water. 
 He bathed Richard's face, and was relieved to find that 
 his injury was not so serious as he had first feared. The 
 glass had broken and cut a small gash across Richard's 
 cheek, but It was the force of the blow that had stunned 
 nim. He sat up and asked for Tom. 
 
 Tom staggered down the aisle to the platform. 
 'We've been having a little show here to-night Dick " 
 he said with an attempt to be pleasant. " The only mis- 
 take was in not charging admission. I haven't had so 
 much for the money's worth since the last football scrim- 
 mage. 
 
 "Are you hurt ?" asked Richard faintly 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 87 
 
 "I don't know." said Tom, and with the words he 
 sank down on a bench, and for the first and only time 
 Jn his life fainted dead away. 
 
 Fortunately the ambulance was near by. As it rattled 
 up to the door. King, with the help of the officers and 
 the attendant who had come with the vehicle, carried 
 Richard and Tom out to it. The policeman in charge of 
 i.on seemed to be acting under orders from the preacher 
 A brief word was exchanged between them. The police- 
 man took an extra twist in Con's coat collar and said to 
 him grimly, " Now then, young feller, we'll be movin' 
 along to our European hotel." He marched him out- 
 doors and disappeared down the street with him, followed 
 by a gang of boys, who kept at a respectful distance. 
 
 King turned to the school crowded about the door 
 and the ambulance. The boys never forgot his look. He 
 did not say a word; only looked. Rough, coarse, and 
 cruel as many of them were, they shrunk back as if John 
 King had smitten them in the face. 
 
 King ordered the ambulance to drive to his own home 
 The boys were carried into the house and a doctor called 
 m at once. Richard's injury proved to be only slight 
 comparatively; but Tom was seriously hurt. The wound 
 in his hand where Con had stabbed him was of a severe 
 nature. The doctor looked grave as he dressed it Tom 
 came out of his faint, but seemed stupid. John King had 
 a consultation with the doctor as he went out into the 
 hall. 
 
 " Woll ?•• asked the preacher. " It is a severe wound, 
 isn t ,t ? Better tell me the worst you fear. You know 
 me of old. doctor." 
 
 "It's a serious thing. I've known lockjaw and poison- 
 ing to result from a similar accident. He's a likely young 
 fellow. How did it happen ?" ' j^ n 
 
 King told the story so far as he knew it. " I shall 
 keep both of them here for the present," he said. His 
 sister had quietly but efficiently assisted in everything 
 necessary when the young men were hroHght in She 
 
88 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 woi, d have done so if her brother had brought the 
 whole cty hospital into the house. Richard protested 
 that he was not seriously hurt and could go to his room, 
 but when K.ng told him that Tom was qui^e badly hur 
 
 h.m. Poor old Tom 1 I ought to have known he would 
 
 He related the events of the evening, and John King told 
 .n h,s turn how feeling a little nneasy about the young 
 sTart'ed fnr/,;'^ o^ the attacks on Richard as he did. he had 
 started for the schoolroom about eight o'clock and on the 
 way had stopped at a police station and asked for th e 
 officers. Kmg was well known at the station, as. indeed 
 he was .n a 1 parts of the city, and the chief gave the 
 men mstruct.ons to follow King's directions in case of 
 emergency; and to one acquainted with the wonderful 
 
 the afr/°"" '"^ """''"" °^^^ ^'^ -^- °^ -en and 
 he almost universal respect and esteem paid to him 
 
 throughout the city, this action was not in the least 7 
 
 pnsmg. Arrived at the schoolroom, the arr s of Con 
 
 as the ringleader in the disturbance had seemeT.. K^ng 
 
 as the imperative thing to effect. He had ho, .at the 
 
 boy might be touched in some way by the la v'. . . h' had 
 
 heretofore been insensible to any influence. 
 
 Richard af th.'^'"'' ^ " ' '''"''' ^••- ^'"^ ?" ^^ked 
 Torn L f preacher came out of the room where 
 
 ^ecHnir in"f v'" ^5^^•"'"^-->- where Richard wa 
 reclining m a big chair and looking gravely at his 
 
 'Who"'? Y ^^ '^ "" '' •" ^'^^ --^i -■'-• 
 
 askin^for yol - ' ""''' '^ "^'"^ ^"'^^ ^"-"- -<^ « 
 
 King im^hl^I "'" 7'i'' ^''^''^' '■•^'"^ ^"d ^"'"^ with 
 room. ^^' """^ ^'"'^'^ °P^"^^ °ff t^e "ving 
 
 th.'ii'^-'^'''^ '''°"* '■''" '"'^ ^'"^^ " !'>" ^f'-aid. though 
 that he IS a prejudiced witness." ' 
 
 tn i'.,^'f :," fA'*^ 7°" ''"^ ^"^'" «« Ri'^I'ard came up 
 to the bed. "I take it all back about good people no' 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 89 
 
 being very strong. Here are Mr. King and you walkinir 
 
 rr^cH^ z!?^ '- - — ^ -- -- 
 
 bea'uty."' "'" ' '"' °" ^'^ ^'^^^^^ ^* --'» ^poil n.y 
 
 loZTs^V?"" T/? ^^^^ ^'^"^ ^°"« "P '" that pil- 
 
 tung '°u Oh I . "• k" "^"^ ^"^"^ ^^ " ^ ^- h^<^ 
 devil •' H ' '^^'"^'"ber now. That Con, that 
 
 L~v ^'^! ^ niovement of pain and was silent 
 John Kmg sa.d quietly. " Better not try to think oi 
 
 otlJr T.'h"'''- '""l '''' ^"^' ^"^ -«'" make up the 
 
 ^^t:'^:::s^;^^:^^ ---' - - wi„ 
 
 and sore from his shoulder wound, but his face fniutv 
 .uSl^^^\r-' rapidly. Through the dayt 2Z 
 r. J 7 ^^^ ^^^*^"'h and restless. The doctor 
 
 "uX^lreHnd' f ^ '^"' ^^^^"- J°^" ^-« '^'^"^^ 
 ounoay duties, and it was not until late in the evenine 
 
 hat he came m and threw himself down on a w!de coucS 
 
 2thn k' '". '' "" '""^ '''' ^-« Richard had e^: 
 seen John Kmg show any signs of weariness. 
 
 "and Trm\''7^' ^'^ ^^^ '"^' ''''" ^^P'''^^ Richard; 
 
 look ol t^nt .' rVr' ""'^^^- ^ ^°"'» i"^t like th 
 look of that hand It's a terrible wound, in my Judg- 
 
 But'il t ^ ^^'^ *]"'"^' ^"^ ^" '""^t be careful of him 
 Yes, sir; I know there is." said Richard firmly 
 
 
90 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "So do I." John King was silent. The conversation 
 had been subdued. Tom was asleep in the other room. 
 The fire was the only .'ight in the sitting-room. Richard 
 had occasion to remember the scene well in after years. 
 Kmg lay some moments very still. Richard thought he 
 was asleep or dozing. Finally he broke the silence by 
 saying very quietly, " I had a brother like Tom once, and 
 he died a drunkard and a gambler. He went out of this 
 world without a sign of repentance, and only God has 
 any right to say what became of his immortal soul. I 
 was two years his junior. I had entered on newspaper 
 work for a life profession; but standing by the side of 
 that deathbed I resolved to put myself into the profes- 
 sion -where I could do the largest possible service in pre- 
 _, senting the Life of the World to young men. I went into 
 the mmistry. It has been a ministry of pain and sorrow, 
 but also of joy, and the joy has been uppermost; and 
 more and more it has grown with me that in Jesus Christ 
 is the world's salvation. Not alone by means of a cold 
 assent to the teachings of Jesus— few men ever deny the 
 good of the teachings— but by a personal walk with the 
 Saviour, a personal knowledge, so that a man comes to 
 feel for his Saviour a feeling he does not give to anv 
 other being, no, not even to his betrothed, his wife, his 
 sister, his mothe.^-ah, yes! that is .vhat the world needs. 
 Why do men spend their money for bread that satisfieth 
 not ? There is as wide a gap between the coldly moral 
 man and the personal Christian as between the con- 
 fessedly bad man and the good one, only of a different 
 sort. Men come to me or write to me every week for 
 some plan, some scheme, some remedy for the oppres- 
 sions and wrongs and injustices of this century, I say 
 to them continually, ' There is but one answer : Begin 
 yourselves to live the life of Jesus by personal acquaint- 
 ance with Him, and then spend your best strength in 
 leading the world to Kim.' Oh, the selfishness of this 
 world of men! I almost grow heartsick over it, my 
 brother! What is this that men call success, fame, power, 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 91 
 
 when the vfry structure on which it rests is selfish indif- 
 ference to the weak and sorrowing and helpless ? But 
 Jesus satisfies. Yes, He satisfies. When I was your age 
 1 suffered a great injustice. I could have killed my 
 enemy. I was a murderer in feeling but the merciful 
 Saviour spared me the actual crime, and I have been 
 trying a 1 my life to bring men to Him. And I do love 
 them! I do! My heartache is for the world of men 
 Yes, even that savage horde of ruffians at the old ware- 
 house they are human, they have possibilities for divine 
 growth an them. I must see them redeemed. But oh 
 I seem sometimes to fight this battle all alone. Heaven 
 forbid that I should be the judge, but it comes to me with 
 terrible emphasis sometimes that much which we call 
 civilization and Christianity are but the shell without the 
 kernel; and our churches seem to exist for social clubs, 
 and our Christian activity evaporates in forms and'meet- 
 ings and resolutions and conventions and addresses and 
 preaching and listening and going away and coming back 
 again: while what we need is action! action! action! the 
 doing of something with an all-embracing love behind it 
 to fire Its engines and propel its course along a track 
 ^at has Its start on earth and its terminus in heaven. 
 O Jesus, Jesus! My Life! Life of all men!" John King 
 had risen, and, walking gently through the room, he con- 
 tinued in the same subdued tone while Richard lay back 
 in his chair and listened to him breathless. " My Lord 
 
 Ihee. For I do believe that is the only remedy for this 
 s.n-sick. selfish world. Use me. dear, crucified One? 
 I have also been selfish and proud and faithless; but the 
 good impulses and better desires struggling in me are 
 far greater than the old man. Thou knowest, divine 
 Strength, I am not afraid of the devil; but he is a hard 
 fighter, and I am but a man after all. my Master, and I 
 grow weary. This is not a cry of distrust, or of weakness, 
 O Jesus, only my soul crying out to Thine at the close 
 or mis day 3 preaching. Yes. I know I can find no such 
 
93 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 •trength elsewhere. Shall I not alway, give Thee the 
 
 as whh'«''fr'.'"K'''' ''"'''* °^ *^"^'"« ^'^h the Divine 
 as w.th a friend, but never before had he heard a man 
 
 express such perfect confidence in the simple love of 
 
 Chnst. It seemed to him as if Paul were alive again 
 
 endin'rth t'-'"'f °^'''= "^" '"^^ ^^^ the'old, 
 ending m the triumphant victory of the new man re 
 
 look in ani /, " "? ^,"^ ^P*^"'** ^'' ''"« «"d let him 
 look in. and he was a little afraid that the preacher mijrht 
 repent of it and be cold to him afterward Bur tL? 
 not lik*. Ir.hr, V . lucrwara. «ut that was 
 
 lounie ifn" *"' ^'"'""'- ^^ ""'« back to the 
 w^th th. V T" "f °" ■'• ""^' *"••"'"« *° R'<=hard. said 
 
 but ?eL r, r " 'l'!P'''^^"^'y uppermost in this world 
 but Jesus Chnst met him face to face and beat him- and 
 our Master will help us to do the same in this c'^tury 
 I have been apparently beaten to-day in my preaching 
 Men have listened but have not acted, and I have had the 
 weariness of defeat on me. But no man sees the end 
 f om the beginning. God knows it. Ours is the pro 
 
 i rarwe'sh^ii^'r °^;'^ ''''''■ "^ ^^^ 
 
 mcrease. We shall live to see Tom a personal Christian " 
 It IS niy daily prayer," said Richard. " I feel anx- 
 
 Richard trembled. "Do you mean fatal?" 
 
 " wJ ^I'u *^"^ " ^ possibility of his losing his hand " 
 Why, that would kill Tom!" 
 
 {. I^'Jo ^° ^" '" °"'" P°*^'' to P>-event it. What 
 » that old Saxon saying-' Hope for the best, get ready 
 
 "alsm Tch "'/''' "'^* ""'^ ^^"^«^' T^iat Isn't 
 lataiism, its Christian common sense." 
 
THE LIFE THAT HOW IS. 
 
 93 
 
 ano;,f:™ Tc'rr "■ """ -" "='■ "■- "-« '->' 
 
 •orious. H„ c.„,c over to tI '"" ""' "°' "' "" 
 "Wdl, old (ellow, how are you?" 
 
 Tj- 1 J . ^* ^** yo""" scars, Dick" 
 
 .ndX''e;oVaii:;je'tt:i"'T'"''' t'" ^^ ° -^ 
 
 I-". wi,h hi, oId-.tae o^e o, L ^Zl'f' "7 ''"""■ 
 Con f" • ""'" ""as done with 
 
 " Mr. King says he was arrested and i, in i»,l i. 
 seems he was wanted for other offenses " '""• " 
 
 .o„ ."°nl TeVughnoTC""^-'""'' °'='" ■""»•' 
 pretty soon i-' ^"""« '"'° <»"- <""> room 
 
 I.n'i?b'«en''o„r'lr/°.""^ ™"' "'"• "■" "">"" 
 wall paper^" Ttas John K-"" ''"^ 't """"' "' "" 
 
 for a time a, leas, I ^°T '" """' '""■ '"'"' <" ^«. 
 fellows to%"e "t, '!. ' '""''''' "' ''"«'« '■"""T 
 
 soon toXi.^rvi!:'^.':, T."' 'T' r" '= ""' 
 
 ' " —fSy^i Man. lou, Mr. Author, 
 
94 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 must bring your precious writing materials into this room 
 and call it yours for a week at least." 
 
 Tom smiled his thanks feebly. Richard looked his, 
 and thought John King more splendid than ever. The 
 transition from the noisy boarding-house to the most 
 homelike hospitality in America was too wonderful to be 
 true. But Richard was getting used to experiences, and 
 almost ceased to wonder what was coming next. 
 Suddenly Tom spoke up. 
 
 " Who will take my work on the paper ? I must go 
 down town." 
 
 Mr. King added : " Young man, you are under my 
 care. This is my hospital, and if you mak^ a move to 
 disobey my orders I will give you the worst dose of 
 medicine you ever tbsted. Will the paper stop if you 
 miss a day at the office ?" 
 
 " No, but my salary will ; and that's more important 
 than the paper any day." 
 
 " Tom," said Richard, " what's the reason I can't do 
 your work for a day or two until you are able to go out?" 
 " You ?" asked Tom in a tone of faint surprise. " I 
 thought you had a religious scruple, Dick, against doing 
 anything in that line. Besides, you've got your book 
 and the lovely kindergarten school every night. I don't 
 see how you can do it." 
 
 " But I can, and I will," said Richard quietly ; " so 
 you keep still to-day, and Mr. King and I will arrange 
 matters all right." 
 
 " That we will," responded John King cheerfully. "Ah, 
 there's the doctor's gig." 
 
 He went out into the hall to meet him. Tom was too 
 weak to make any resistance, so after breakfast John 
 King and Richard went out together. The preacher 
 knew the editor of the daily, and would introduce Richard 
 to him. 
 
 As they walked along King said : " You are running 
 some risk, Mr. Bruce, in going out to-day." 
 
 " Well, the doctor said there was no danger if I kept 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 95 
 
 the bandage on. and I know Tom better than any one 
 else knows h.m. He will worry over his work LZl 
 
 way than if I stayed in the room with him " 
 
 My sister is a capital nurse ; he will be well cared 
 
 wiJ'thr: scht';"' ^^""^ "°" ^^- ^-"^^ ^ -"^ ^^ 
 
 at ection, the school will be yours before long I'll «« 
 
 They walked into the office of the great daily and lohn 
 
 K.ng introduced Richard, with a bdef ex'lanatfoi tf 
 
 he circumstances which had brought them there and 
 
 then departed on one of his numerous errands of ^lery 
 
 . ., ^\ f .''"'^ '^'^°'" °f The Daily Universe was 
 a hard-headed practical man. successful from the news 
 
 othr; h''';?°'"^' ''^""^ *° "'^'^^ his daily bea ev^ry 
 
 a d wheVth! .""v ' '" "^°^"'"^ •'^^'^'-'^^ -«thods; 
 and when the legitimate methods failed he did not scruole 
 
 all rieht^'^m r;"^ " ^'i'^ "P- " y°" ^^" do his work, 
 all right What do you know about reporting ?" 
 
 Richard modest! mentioned his college journalism. 
 
 Fooh I I wouldn't give a cent a column for all vour 
 
 CO ege journalism. Here I sit down at that desk 'and 
 
 wme^an account of an imaginary fire; one hundred 
 
 followtgl-'""' ''""' '"' P^P" ^"^ '^^^^^ off the 
 
96 
 
 RICHARD BRUCR; OR, 
 
 FIRK IN DOCTOR SMITJI'S IIOUSK. 
 The alarm from the box at Beaumont and Chestnut 
 •treets, about 2.15 o'clock yesterday afternoon, was for 
 a blaze on the third floor of Dr. Smith's residence, No 
 2643 Chestnut Street. The department responded 
 promptly, and after half an hour's work had the flames 
 under control. The top floor sufTcred considerable dam- 
 age by fire, while the whole house was gutted, 'he water 
 doing considerable damage to the costly furniture. The 
 loss on furniture is estimated at about $300. The house 
 itself was injured to the extent of $1,500. The origin of 
 the fire is not known. 
 
 Mr. Case read it over and said :— - 
 " Umph I Good enough. Write 
 sonals." 
 
 Richard dashed off the following :— . 
 
 a couple of per- 
 
 I. Mr. H. B. Case, the well-known editor of the 
 ChicaRo Daily Universe, made a flying trip to Detroit 
 yesterday and addressed the new School of Journalism in 
 this city. Mr. Case's address was remarkably bright and 
 telUn- It bristled with points and we comme.id it to all 
 youthful aspirants for journalistic fame. We print »:he ad- 
 dress in full on the second page. 
 
 "2. Tom Howard, one of the brightest and best report- 
 ers on the Universe staff, met with a serious accident last 
 Saturday night, which will place him on the sick list for 
 several days. Mr. Richard Bruce, an experienced writer, 
 will take his place until he recovers." 
 
 Richard handed these to Mr. Case. He read them 
 laughed a rather hard and coarse laugh, and said, "You'll 
 do.^^ He assigned him work and Richard went out 
 
 " I can't say I H^ce the editor-in-chief very well," he 
 said to himself as he went out. " But for Tom's sake I 
 would endure anything." He did his work satisfactorily. 
 
tHE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 97 
 
 made specW arrangement, at the office for his night- 
 Hchool w..rk. and went hack to Ton. in ,l,e cvn.ing Jith 
 a humoruu. account of his cxpcricn.o. Tom was suffer- 
 ng greatly w.th his wounded hand. He was too weak 
 to talk much, and Richard went off to his night school 
 wuh a fecl.ng of anxiety for his old chum which not even 
 Kings hearty cheerfulness could dispd 
 
 Th ♦"^re "°* ""'**' '^ '"8« a n"'"'^" out as usual 
 man ^^""^ !, ^a^urday night and the presence of a po .ce- 
 man near the door seen.ed to have a subduing effec o 
 the boys. One or two of them even inquired of R c nrd 
 •n a sheep,sh off-hand way if he was muih hurt. R ich d 
 took >t as a hopeful sign. He worked through the two 
 hours cu.te cheerfully, inspired by John Kin^s presence 
 
 Tood :tr"T r ^r^"^ '^^ '-' ^"'^^ ^'^-^ " -" 
 
 seemed to.cons.der .t a privilege to use his great talent, to 
 .mpart something of himself to the poor de'ravVd wre^s 
 of Gods image gathered into that old warehouse Rirh 
 ard was a learner in that night . hool. H wa siearn inJ 
 that true greatness is really service to others "^ 
 
 The week passed rapidly. Richard's work on the 
 paper proved more than satisfactory. He had "1„1. 
 mented the lack of news one or two day, by some ea J 
 . bnght and taking little poems which had ca^gh the 
 pubhc fancy and been widely copied from The Un^^e se 
 He mentioned this to Tom to interest him. 
 
 hi; T.«h™L1c r ' "" '"" ■'°""°"- "" <"■-' ^- P-> 
 
 h?m H ! » JT ""»«"«'•<>■> "ould stand b, 
 
 '^^ ""' '"-^Qc mucn progress, but 
 
 l# 
 
98 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 at John King's suggeetion he meant to show the advance 
 chapters to a certain magazine during the week. The 
 school had proved easier work than he had supposed 
 possible. The absence of Con had much to do with it ; 
 and the boys were beginning to understand Richard. He 
 planned during the week to visit Con at the jail and have 
 an interview with him ; but his anxiety over Tom and his 
 daily work had combined to keep him so busy that the 
 week was sped before he knew it. All day Sunday he 
 spent with his oH chum. Tom was painfully weak. His 
 hand was inflamed and swollen to a remarkable degree. 
 However, he kept up good courage, amused John King 
 his sister, the doctor and Richard by his odd remarks' 
 and when the time for evening service drew near insisted 
 upon Richard's going. John King's sister added her 
 persuasion. The quiet motherly old lady had grown 
 very fond of Tom and made a capital nurse for him. 
 So Richard went and was rested and inspired by the 
 service, not one whit changed in his feelings toward the 
 preacher because he had been living so close to him for 
 a week. We can give only the closing words of John 
 Kings sermon this time. The text was, "The Son of 
 man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, 
 and to give His life a ransom for many." 
 
 " Yes, the great law of service is the greatest law in 
 the universe. Let no man say, I am too great or too 
 rich or too learned or too busy to give of my time or 
 riches or intellect to the coarse, dirty, needy, suffering 
 world ! Who was the Lord Jesus Christ ? A King in 
 His own right— the superior of every mortal on earth, 
 the most learned, best educated man that the age knew ;' 
 and yet He did not consider Himself too great to be a 
 servant, and a servant to the miserable, the lowly, the 
 outcast. How many proud men and women are there 
 in our churches and in this city who would consider it 
 beneath them to make a call at some poor man's home ? 
 How many are there who would think their family or 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 99 
 
 their profession or their dignity seriously injured if they 
 gave of their leisure or their intelHgenre to the wretched 
 outcasts in this modem Babylon ? How many cultured 
 families keep up the round of social entertainments 
 never inviting to their houses or their tables any excepi 
 those who are able to invite them back in turn ? How 
 many are there to-night who are ready to humble them- 
 selves as httle children and say. ' Here. Lord, here are 
 a 1 my talents ; show me how to use them for the blessing 
 of this century ; open up to me the path of service or 
 mimstry and I will ^k in it even though it be all up 
 hill ; put me into that path where my lowly Master trod' ? 
 The greatest men. let me tell you.- my brothers, are the 
 simplest- hearted men-the men who count that all they 
 have ,s a legacy to be wisely used that the world may 
 get up higher towards its God. Remember that as you 
 take up the burden or the pleasure of another week. 
 The greatest being this earth ever saw was Jesus Christ, 
 and He was a servant. 'The Son of man came not to 
 be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give Hite life 
 a ransom for many.'" 
 
 That night Tom was delirious from pain. Richard 
 w" t,'"°'V '^VT "^''^ '^™' ^"^ °"'y ^""'"d morn- 
 
 Z ul Tu'" *^r" ^^'^ " *''°"'''^d "^P °f an hour • 
 and a half. When the doctor came he was accompanied 
 
 ^LTlv' ^.^^a^tJf^'-f^atU'-ed man with an expression 
 that betokened much sympathy. 
 
 The two held a consultation over Tom's injury. The 
 result was an audience in John King's study with the 
 preacher and Richard. 
 
 ,nf "7^;^ '' .? ^'^ '" *'"•"» ^"y*'^'"^ but an unpleas- 
 ant truth " said the doctor who had been in attendance 
 
 musir V". ''^'""'"^- " ^"* *^« ^^<^* •^' the hand 
 must be sacrificed to save the arm and the life. In this 
 opinion I am supported by my frifend." 
 
 The older man nodded gravely. " It is one case in 
 thousand." he said "Al! the medical science in the 
 
 ten 
 
100 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 world couldn't save the hand. We have done everything 
 inat can be done." 
 
 John King rose and walked the lloor, every muscle 
 qurvenng His sympathies were extremely sensitive. 
 Who will tell him of it ?" he asked. 
 "Thils young man, his friend, had best do it." said 
 the younger physician, indicating Richard. 
 
 ♦u !'?''' "",1 J '^=""'"''" ^•'■'ed Kichaid. The thought 
 hat dear old Tom should be maimed in this way was 
 ternblc to h,m. He felt faint and sick at the thought. 
 He did not see how he could tell him. 
 
 "Brother." said John King, stopping and laying his 
 
 hand on Richard's shoulder, "shall I do this for you ?" 
 
 Yes oh, yes I " almost sobbed Richard. " You can 
 
 prepare him for it bettar than I." 
 
 ^_ J When will the operation be performed ?" asked 
 
 " It should be done at once. He can be moved to the 
 .hospital tliis noon." 
 
 ^ "Very well, then." John King spoke calmly again. 
 I will prepare him for it and we will have him ready 
 to be moved by twelve o'clock." 
 
 ,7^^ '*°'*°" ''"P""'''^ ""^^^ Saving necessary directions 
 or Toms removal. "Bruce." said King in his most 
 Joving manner. " go in and see Tom and talk with him 
 cheerfully a little while and then go down town to th^ 
 to hTn, ^°\"";°; ^' °f ^"y P'-actical use this forenoon 
 
 ellow 'if •n'1' "^^^ "■' ^°"" ^ ^''^ *«" the poor 
 ellow. It will do you good to get out this clear morn- 
 
 h£ nal°e"rLovt" ^^^^ ^"' '°"'^ ^°^««^' ^°^ -'-■ 
 
 Richard obeyed like a child. He went in and greeted 
 
 Tom. who spoke of a certain dream he had during the 
 
 " Dick.'' he said, with a comical look, across which 
 
 of the finest, strongest right hands you ever saw and 
 I thought to myself what a splendid recommendation 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS, loi 
 
 that would be for mc when I came to run for President 
 of the United States, for then I could shake hands with 
 hve hundred people all at once and not get tired It 
 would be real handy, wouldn't it ?" 
 
 " Very,'' said Richard, bravely gulping down a desire 
 to cry ; and after a few more words he bolted out of the 
 room and out-of-doors. He could not stand it. Tom 
 spoke more than once of the time when he should get 
 to work again. Evidently he had no suspicion of the 
 dangerous character of his hurt. 
 
 As Richard went into the office Mr. Case called to 
 him. He went into his private room, and Mr. Case 
 said, I want to send a man with some nerve to do 
 some special reporting. I have picked you out to do it. 
 It IS connected with the great railroad strike in the city 
 You must get inside the lines of the strikers who are 
 massed together at Clairmont and Faitview streets and 
 get all the information possible. Let me say that this 
 service w,ll be rewarded by good pecuniary compensa- 
 tion It ,s special work and dangerous, and we will pay 
 what we often paid Mr. Howard for such service. The 
 Universe has always done well by its employees in this 
 
 mrr""That° °"\"" '^V' '^^^ «^^^ '^'^' '" ^ 
 iW Ton, T II r' "'; '"^ ^'*=^"^ remembered hear- 
 ing Tom tell of special pay for special and sometimes 
 dangerous work. Mr. Case continued, "I would Ike to 
 have you go at once. It is now eight o'clock. If you a « 
 successful, you can reach the office by noon " 
 
 Riehard thought of Tom, and told Mr. Case about 
 his intended removal to the hospital and the necessa^ 
 
 Richard could get back in-tJme to see his friend and Zy 
 with him the rest of the day. "I want this news for a 
 pa'of r^;; '' "'^ '^ ' '^"«^^-« -issior s t a 
 
 lo undertake it I rely upon your ingenuity to get the 
 desired information, Mr. Bruce » 
 
 Rfchard hesitated. He began to see that if Tom was 
 
 / 
 
 i 
 
loa 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 upon the sick list for several weeks the task of provid- 
 ing for their living would fall upon himself. The under- 
 taking proposed by Mr. Case was honorable in itself and 
 such as any brave man might attempt successfully. 
 There was more or less of the adventurous in Richard, 
 and we have intimated that he had a romantic disposi- 
 tion. Still, ho thought that he might possibly de detained 
 in some way and not get back in time to be with Tom 
 during the operation made him hesitate. He had not the 
 courage to tell Tom of the need of amputation, but he 
 fully meant to remain by him during the operation. He 
 hesitated. It was just at that moment that John King 
 entered the room where Tom lay, to prepare him for the 
 loss of his hand. « 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 103 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 What think ye of the Christ ?-Jesus Christ. 
 
 John King was a very brave man, but he shrank with 
 the sensitiveness of a fine nature from the task he had 
 imposed upon himself of telling Tom the news about his 
 and t J"' he entered the room without a sign of tremo 
 and took a sat near the bed. It was a little after eight 
 o clock Tom was wide awak« and suffering very much 
 but he had not the slightest suspicion of wha^ was' 
 awaitmg him. " ^" 
 
 " How much longer do you think I shall have to lie 
 here. Mr. King ?" he asked. 
 
 "Well, we hope you won't have to suffer very lone 
 my boy.' replied King as cheerfully as possible. ^' 
 
 kJ^v J" '* •'•"' ^''*^"">^- "Do you know. Mr. 
 Kng ive kept up a lot of thinking since I've been 
 lymg here? You've been very good^o me and Dfck 
 Th.s .s what you call an applied sermon, isn't it ? do^^g 
 what you preach other people ought to do ?" 
 
 John King smiled. "Yes ; you can call it that But 
 
 tne house Besides, I almost felt personally responsible 
 
 IZ Sti^icJ:^ ' - ''- -- ^^ RichLdToi^gt 
 
 To:^:ii;;:;;T-^^^^c^^;^;:;^''-^^ 
 
 for pitching into the boy Con ?" "" ''''"'' *"" 
 
 The preacher did not reply directly. He out Tom 
 
 IT^T, "i^- 'o you suppose you'would feeTlf'Tu 
 
 had =.u.ucd ^on and he lay here in your place?"' 
 
 I should feel as if he was in a better place than he 
 
104 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 
 i ■ 
 
 deserved," said Tom, purposely misunderstanding King's 
 question. 
 
 " Well, my boy, it's hard to forgive an enemy, and 
 harder still to love him ; but some day I hope you will 
 know what it means to forgive Con." 
 
 "Isn't it strange, Mr. King ? I feel as if I could 
 forgive him for injuring me a good deal quicker than 
 if he had injured Dick. Wouldn't you resent an injury 
 to your sister quicker than an insult to yourself ?" 
 
 " No doubt I would. But would you forgive the boy 
 Con after all that has happened ?" 
 
 Tom was silent. He was evidently going over the 
 fight again. John King watched him lovingly. It was 
 harder than he had thought to lead up to the subject of 
 the amputation, but he thought Tom was going to lead 
 the way to it himself, and in this he was not mistaken. 
 Tom finally said slowly, " Suppose Con had injured me 
 so that I should be unable to walk again, or suppose he 
 had wounded me in such a way that I could never use 
 my right hand again to do reporting, what then ? Do 
 you honestly think, Mr. King, that I ought to forgive 
 him ?" 
 
 " Where would you draw the line, Tom, in the matter 
 of forgiveness ? Would you say, * If my enemy cuts oflf 
 my little toe, I can forgive him, but if he cuts off my 
 big toe, I don't see how I can ?" 
 
 " But the line ought to be drawn somewhere ; don't 
 you think so ?" said Tom after a pause. 
 
 " God does not forgive that way. Suppose you go 
 to Him with a very, very big sin, and cry for forgiveness, 
 won't He forgive it just as quickly and completely as if 
 it were a little sin ?" 
 
 "I suppose He will," replied Tern, who above ell 
 things was honest in argument. 
 
 "Well, suppose the boy Con has injured your hand 
 so that you will never have the use of it again ; suppose 
 it is necessary for you to lose your hand to save your 
 arm or your life, what then ?— would you gain more by 
 
*^ 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 lOS 
 
 mean in your own 
 
 hating Con or by forgiving him ? 
 feelings ?" 
 
 almost unbearable." ' "^^ P*"» » 
 
 spo'ke r; gen^^f" f '-;,'*' Tom," John King 
 
 left hand. "^The OSS wIuM no"* '"". *° '"''' ^'^'^ ^^"^ 
 profession." "^ "°* '^'"P'^' y°" ^o leave your 
 
 first^rm;.'thrfttVa"tf°"^H' "'"^ ^- ^- ^^« 
 theje was no drnge^^t'no'l^cTabi:' "" "'^ '^^'^ *^* 
 
 ''?om'""saTd^tTK"'''' ,"''^ ^^" ^"--<^- 
 Tom's Id palm ast 1. '^' ^u'''"« ^'« ^and upon 
 
 remembe/h'ots: riou^r Tundt t^fT'' ?°" '""^^ 
 very often is, especially whT-nfl-W^ ^l*" °^ '^^ ''^"^ 
 Poiat. It was the small blaSe of the ."'? V"'"' ^''"^ 
 you. The doctors have done IntL^^'lu '^'' ^°""^«d 
 of the age can do. and they think T !. '"''''"' «'''" 
 to it.- they think.' Tom tTa 'he TnlTky^ "'" "^^ 
 
 Zt 0^7 ^fis^tdC ^° '4---^^^^^^^^ 
 
 believe it was a^y'^ha^ tha„^?o "llt^ t'"/ ^°f 
 be glad to give you my hand if I could » ""' ' "^^^'^ 
 
 Tom burved his head in the pillow turn*.H 
 the •: and said never a word KiW ^f^""^ '° 
 
 Pnsed that he r.ade no outcry Butt h^HT * ^'"''^ ^"'- 
 as to how Tom would take it Fv L m 1^"'" uncertain 
 very hard. '*' ^^'^ently he was taking it 
 
 "Tom." said King very quietly " th^. 
 jnany things more dreadW than f^ I *^''\^'-*^ * great 
 » 'I nad Dcen your reontatmn «- " . "• ^"'"^ 
 purity." "^ reputation or your honor or your 
 
io5 
 
 RiqHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Tom turned his head, looked at King with a look that 
 was almost fierce, and groaned, " But it will kill me to be 
 maimed this way— I, who have always prided myself on 
 my physical strength and beauty. I cannot bear it It 
 will kill me." 
 
 .< ' ^°'"'" 5^'d tJ^e preacher, with tears in his eyes, 
 'let us pray over it." He continued without kneeling 
 down, talking just as he sat in his chair, only bowing 
 his head between his hands, and going on in the same 
 natural tone as if his dearest Friend were close by : 
 " Loving Tesus, we do not know how much Thou hadst 
 to suffer in this world, but we know it must have been 
 very dreadful to be crucified. The pain and the anguish 
 must have been very ^reat ; and then, we do not know 
 how much it was all increased by the knowledge that the 
 very men that tortured Thee were the very ones Thou 
 hadst loved and wanted to save. But we do know this, 
 patient Saviour : Thou dost feel for our pain and trouble. 
 And this child of Thine is going through the darkness 
 just now, and he will stumble, and be terrified and de- 
 spairing and in anguish, unless he is supported by more 
 than human consolation. So we come to Thee as the 
 only all-sufficient One : for Thou has felt this pain ; 
 Thou hast tasted every bitter cup we loathe to drink ; 
 1 hou hast staggered under the cross until it bore Thee to 
 the ground ; and Thou canst make it easier for this soul 
 to bear the present load of trouble. We cannot see the 
 reasons why, dear Lord, but we will not feel Thou art 
 anything but love, always, no matter what happens. And 
 If this sorrow to Thy child has come to him through 
 evil, we do feel sure that Thou art not the One exulting 
 m his trouble, but never in all the world didst Thou love 
 
 through Thy spirit. Show him Thy consolation and give 
 him Thy peace, for Thou art love ; we cannot live if we 
 do not beheve ,t. and being that our need i^ now so7^ 
 we know Thou wilt not disapooint m wi,-,- -i„ .c.,,' 
 Thy troubled children go ? Philosophy iails^fTomrrl 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 107 
 
 it I" Then ^rK ''"^ ^*''** ' I cannot bear 
 
 possessed) tn in^.c^ u- * "**" '" America 
 
 i»m. They were „' " 1""'""'°°'' '"'" ■>' ""K""- 
 
 a wavs nnwprfi.i .^^ t *'"**'<='^ 01 goodness, which s 
 ways powerful and always mysterious to those who do 
 not prosess ,t m the fullest measure 
 
 '' He must be detained at fhi> ««;«- t 
 work. But he will certain^ be he^ HeToM '""If' 
 would without fail." ^ *°^^ '"e he 
 
 "Then he'll be here" "sni'rl t^^ -^i 
 "Nothing short o( Io2« bofh l^CJ """ ""'"'■ 
 keep Dick from bein^ hL ^nJl'^.f.'"*."""' """-W 
 stand now why he acted "so' a„eeriv"i;i. ' '"" """"■ 
 knew abont the hand and Z^^Z TuZ^^,:^] 
 
io8 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 don't wonder. I would hate to tell him such a thing. 
 But I should like to have him with me now." 
 
 But still the afternoon wore on and no Dick. The 
 doctors were not willing to wait much longer. The case 
 was urgent Tom was in good condition in general for 
 the operation. The preparations were made. Tom felt 
 as if he were going to be hanged. A dreadful sickening 
 came over him as the doctors arranged details with pro- 
 fessional coolness and method. They had a business-like 
 air which made Tom shudder. He dreaded coming under 
 the influence of the anaesthetic. He wondered vaguely if 
 he would struggle or cry out while under the influence 
 of the strange drug He was sick at heart that Richard 
 had not appeared and felt that something must have 
 happened to him. The physicians had nearly completed 
 their preliminary arrangements when the door of the 
 room opened and in walked Richard, breathless, disord- 
 ered, bearing marks of having been through exciting 
 
 ToLT "T/'^'u *^'" °"'- "" '°°^ •" th« situation 
 at once walked right up to Tom at the silent invitation of 
 
 « T, *^' ^*'° beckoned to him, and said •— 
 Tom. old fellow, I ran all the way. Couldn't «t 
 here sooner. Tell you all some time. Don't think me a 
 coward I couldn't bear to tell you." And something 
 like a tear glittered for a moment on Richard's cheek 
 and then rolled down and fell with a warm sp ash on 
 Tom's left hand which had been extended. 
 
 Tom answered bravely : 
 
 "I'm glad you're here in time to see me get fair play 
 You never can tell what a doctor will do in the interesi 
 
 tln'r""' T-^ '^Z "^'^^^ ^'''' ^"' "y head ofr and 
 tned to graf it on the end of my arm to see if it would 
 grow there. It's an age of experiments, you know. Dick. 
 You stay by me, won't you, old man ?" 
 
 you and I don't know the reason for it ; but I know 
 ^n 13 love anu xie makes no mistakes, and if you suffer 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 109 
 
 ' / 
 
 now He is not pleased, but grieved, and will give you 
 something to compensate you for this loss." 
 
 Tom looked at his old chum and smiled a little. 
 Well, your view of it is comforting, and what's more, 
 I believe you would say the same in my place, so I know 
 It s not all cant and hypocrisy. Come, doctor, I'm ready. 
 The sooner it's over with the better, if it must be done." 
 The arrangements were completed, and very soon 
 Tom was under the influence of the anaesthetic, that won- 
 derful destroyer of pain to countless sufferers. The only 
 persons present were the two physicians, one of whom 
 was the hospital surgeon, two experienced nurses, John 
 King and his sister, and Richard, who had been admitted 
 on the order of the house surgeon, who knew his inti- 
 macy with Tom. Richard had never seen an amputation. 
 This one had a horrible interest to him. He could not 
 help admiring the splendid rapidity and exactness with 
 which everything was done, and the skill with which the 
 operation was performed, down to the minutest details 
 The hand was taken oflf at the wrist, and Richard won- 
 dered, when he saw it, at Tom's quiet courage during the 
 long hours he lay in John King's houSe. It was a dreadful 
 sight, and must have caused him exquisite torture. 
 
 It was soon over and Tom came out of his uncon- 
 scious condition ih a very natural and healthy way. " He 
 IS a splendid animal." remarked the hospital surgeon ; 
 ' and it has been a beautiful operation. I never saw a 
 better subject for one." 
 
 Richard begged to be allowed to stay with his old 
 chum all night, and although it was against the exact 
 rules, the surgeon yielded and gave Richard an empty 
 bed next to Tom's. John King and His sister went 
 home, and Richard, exhausted with his experience of 
 the morning and almost unnerved by Tom's injury, lay 
 down and slept four hours, while the nurse watched Tom 
 who, however, dozed along in a semi-unconscious state! 
 ..— ..njr. i..a.,., uniiJ iiwunignt. iucnar<i watched with 
 nim after that, and was rejoiced, as dawn grew whilte 
 
no 
 
 KICatARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 in the neat but severely furnished ward, to see how well 
 and contented Tom appeared. 
 " How do you feel, Tom ?" 
 
 beans^ ^ Do " " ^ *°"[^ ""^^ * ^'» P'^»«=f"' °^ ^aked 
 in the ton r" ''m""''" '^' ^'""^ ^« ""d to bake 
 n the top of our old stove in the Academy Commons ? 
 I want some ;ust like those. Tell the nurses if thTywon' 
 
 t^bT.T' '^/' ''■"' °^ ""''"' ' «'^« -^'^ I will engage 
 table board at another hospital at once." * 
 
 The same old Tom. hand or no hand." said Richard 
 W4h a quiet laugh that had a touch of tea s in it. "What 
 else wall your royal highness have served up for break 
 
 tisedl^JrlTn' r."'f '''"^ '''"'' °^ '^"^'^ °y«ters we 
 
 " U iversitrnalf 'yo^^ °"' T ^T °^ '""^ °'^ '^^ 
 uvcrsity Hall. You remember them. Dick ? Re 
 
 member how Professor Jencks called on us one evenfn!^ 
 whUe we were frying them, and how much he enLTed 
 the oysters, and how, when he left, we found that h Ld 
 h d on ?^n'" *'^, «^«-d-flour batter which had be^' 
 Knd on a p.ece of paper .in a chair ? I would give a 
 dollar ap.ece for ,ome of those oysters now." ^ 
 Jtist hen the surgeon came in with the nurse. 
 
 bebeue How7T%''/ ^h. splendid I Couldn't 
 a J .. " ^^ ^^^'' Mr. Bruce ?" 
 
 oysters 1" '''"*' ' ^''^''"' °^ "^^"^ ^^ some fried 
 ;;Good! Let him have 'em. Anything .?se ?'• 
 
 .l.ri . T*"' °^ '^^'^"^ ^^'"^ scrambled ergs p t^n. 
 derlom steak, and an apple pie." said Tom . 
 
 wnnV K !I^u*' """■?• ^^* '^'■'" * Kood breakfast. No it 
 won t hurt h.m a bit." said the surgeon in reolv to 1 
 
 zzTJit'rT'-'- "^--t--be: ^ 
 
 tnt ooy has not been able to eat anything for several 
 ''%r;5rir. •!' ■"""«-/'""*■ Now thatle"ca„" 
 
 -. i ^ .1 oTs ; r„Zy • i^s'rzT"" "j ^'-"''^ 
 
 ?r .» >„,« f„ »=>y nungry. Us a good sign and it won't 
 '■' ^ ^^"n to e.c h..artfly. We will have to curtail hi. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 <» 
 
 whhnn? h "r' ^t *' ''" «'"' ''''" ^ «°°*» breakfast 
 without hurting him at all." 
 
 In fact the relief which Tom felt from the exquisite 
 
 pain he had been suffering was so great that for a while 
 
 t le loss of his hand was not prominent in his mind. He 
 
 ate a hearty breakfast, and at once, from that moment 
 
 began to grow strong rapidly. It was during this time of 
 
 h.s convalescence, while the mutilated arm was healing. 
 
 hat Richard related to Tom his experience an, >ng the 
 
 railroad strikers. We will let him tell it as he re afed it 
 
 to his chum when Tom was far enough advanced in his 
 
 recovery to be able to sit up and make comments. 
 
 YOU see, Tom I was in a dreadful state of indecision 
 that morning. When Mr. Case suggested the wor to 
 me I was fearful that I might not get back to you. As 
 U was. I nearly missed it. But finally I decided that rhe 
 
 don't 17 "°';t^''%"«'^- You can't say. Tom. that I 
 don t care anythmg for money. I do care, as long a, 
 
 and be free from beggary. And it was borne in upor 
 nie very sharply that the expenses of our family would 
 
 Ca :-« ofTeV^' n" "^ '°^ ' *'"^' '' '-^*' '"^ Mr 
 *-ases offer was really generous." 
 
 li^il'J f^l'^ """^^i^u ?^''" "' " P'^-«^*«^' «"<i «=«^n a 
 e\ory day more ravenous. 
 
 " Yes, you would make a fortune that way. The pies 
 devoured by you would eat up all the profits. Well I 
 finally told Mr. Case I would undertake the Ivi'ce 
 
 stnke :n the history of this country. You remember you 
 
 m heTTt " f ^^"'^ '"•""^ ''"^- A" ^he railroads 
 on the r LJ'"^' ^"" '"'°'"''^- ^°* ^ ^heel has turned 
 on the Northwestern or the Wabash or the Santa Fe for 
 two week.. Thmk of it. Tom. The strikers have man- 
 aged in such a way that nothing but the mails have gone 
 over those roads. Even the passenger tr.ffi. u.. w! 
 almost discontinued. There has been intense "feeling but 
 
112 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 , no riot or outbreak except here in Chicago. And the 
 strikers have massed themselves on the south side under 
 the leadership of a man by the name of Tower, who has 
 certainly shown himself to possess the qualities of a born 
 leader of men. His generalship has been superb. With- 
 out breaking a single law, the strikers have drawn to 
 themselves nearly every laboring man in the city and 
 have formed a camp, which is growing in numbers by 
 recruits from all parts of the country. It was rumored 
 that this gathering was for the purpose of attacking the 
 city; that the men under the leadership of this man 
 Tower were being well armed ; that all the foreign ele- 
 ment in the city, the Russians, Bohemians, Poles, Swedes, 
 and Italians, the anarchists and bomb throwers of 
 Europe were enlisted with the strikers ; that fires were 
 to be started in different parts of the city, and the whole 
 town given up to mob violence. A great many families 
 have fled from the city. The United States troops and 
 the State militia have been called out, and aflfairs this 
 week are evidently approaching a crisis." 
 
 " Oh I" interrupted Tom, sitting up and dealing his 
 pillow a savage blow with his left hand. "And I am 
 cooped up here like a rat in a trap, while the most splen- 
 did chances for brilliant newspaper work are being 
 oflfered. Why did all this happen to me now ?" 
 
 And Tom shed a bitter tear, while Richard paused a 
 moment in his narrative to console him, and then went 
 on : — 
 
 " I put on an old suit of clothes at the office and 
 started for the south side. I knew my chances to learn 
 something of the secret movements of the strikers would 
 be greater if I appeared among them as a workingman. 
 I had no difficulty in getting i'nto the camp, as it is 
 called; and Tom, you would not believe what I saw there 
 This is certainly one of the most wonderful outbreaks in 
 the history of this country-unparalleled in the annals 
 of all history ; and there are elements in that stranc-e 
 camp that may well make any thoughtful lover of his 
 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 "3 
 
 
 country tremble. We have been letting the foreign popu- 
 lation of all Europe's dregs stream in on us until this 
 city IS overwhelmingly foreign in numbers ; and the 
 churches of wealth and power and the other organiza- 
 tions of education have not done the work they should, 
 and we are menaced by dangers which have grown by 
 signal neglect and by the open saloon and the most dis- 
 We"irVo"m T^7T' "*^ government ever known. 
 
 w^th'th. I?H ? 'u' ^°°^ ^°"""^ *° ««* ^ interview 
 with the leader of the whole movement. Tower" 
 
 fellowsT You'k°''T''''^'u"'"* ' ^*=°°P °" '*h« other 
 
 was laid Ji'n ""?' '"°"«' °^ ^^^ ^^"'^ ^hile 
 1 was la,d up to know that none of the papers had 
 succeeded in getting Tower to say a word " 
 
 een Lr^ R?.7^'''" ""'"' '"'"^ *° ^^ose few who had 
 seen him. But I ran across the foreman of the coal barses 
 
 Is^iHheTo^L^'^ '''"Ti ^"^ '* turned^ rufth7he 
 
 oTii^ed^'^an^f^ eTviL^' Hrc^'rt^M ^'""^' ''"" ' 
 « A. „ . "'**^'^^'ew. He certainly is a oowerful 
 
 nature " continued Richard reflectively " He is a rian 
 o make men fear him. love him and obey him I w" 
 that I was m the presence of a man. Do you kiow To^ 
 I had a curious feeling the moment I saw h°m that h J 
 very much like John King-as John King woud be if 
 he were not a Christian ? Well I told him I ^ , , 
 
 Then he gave me a most re::,arkable accounl oTiha S 
 and orga„,zat,o„s „t the camp. The i„,er,,e„ appS 
 
 ^ iTir- jf'- :u- r£ ^^ 
 
 Tower said has caused favorable comnn.n. Th-' - - 
 aouDt that the sympathies of the masses "are wh; "h;"" 
 and he is a bom leader : it is stamped ^n hrfa^l'wS 
 
114 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 IS Napoleonic. And yet there are things about the move- 
 ment which give it a dark and serious aspect. I had a 
 little experience of that myself. I finished the interview 
 at eleven o clock; Mr. Case wished me to get back by 
 noon. By the qmckest movement I could make it would 
 take me all of an hour. I hurried along and was con- 
 gra ulating myself on my success, when I met a crowd 
 of Italians coming down between the warehouses on 
 thT^.h > • ^°" '•^'"^'"ber it. Tom; we walked 
 
 ZZ 1 °",^ ^""^"'"^ °" °"^ °^ °"'' suburban tramps. 
 Before I coud turn or conceal myself they were upon 
 rne, and drunk as devils, every one of them. They were 
 T.inT^Tl"''^ ^ ?" ^^^ •• '^'y «^'^^d on me. recog- 
 hlve ;h!rT " "T^' '"^''"^* '^'' ^""'^^^ >"«" always 
 u7'hlu \ ""!,' '°^"' ^"^ °"" °^ *^^'"' ^ "«le pJnched- 
 up half-starved man. ordered me to drink out of a big 
 
 knolnv' '""/J '''' '"^^^ -"^•"^"^ whiskey. I 
 
 the teet T 1''' 'n"' '"' '* ^^°^^ °" ^^e stones in 
 
 ' Shnl?t-' ff" 'i'^ f" '^"'"^^ °" *^ »"«• Some said, 
 
 riter !• Z lu ""^ °''"' ''°"^^^' ' ^'^''^^ ^im into the 
 river ! but there was an empty storeroom close by. and 
 
 t came mto the drunken wits of one of their number "o 
 
 fastened the door with some timbers, which they tore 
 off the front of an old porch across the street. Then they 
 threw stones against the building, breaking the two 
 
 Tt oTdanV: IT' '"' '"^"^ «^*^"^ - ^ ^^-nk^n 
 sort of dance at the corner and reeled off, leaving two of 
 
 their number to keep guard. I easily escaped by ?r ^ing 
 
 through a window, and when one of the drunken guards 
 
 tried to grab me I gently knocked him over in the way of 
 
 tumbTe7n"'"; "^ ""'' ^^"'"^ "P' -d they both 
 tumbled oyer in the gutter, while I made a run for it 
 But all this took time, and I had to make a detou o 
 avoid other drunken parties, and that is the reason 1 
 reached here so late. I gave my notes to Mr. Case o^the 
 
 way and he ex-nisprl m- f r,._.,_ . . •. ^""^ "" ^ne 
 
 ^ ..„. i,._^.„j xUiuicr auty lor the dav • 
 
 and when he saw the nature of he notes he paid me verj^ 
 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 "5 
 
 handsomely-enough, dear Tom, to keep us going some 
 time. ' 
 
 ^^ Tom had listened with breathless attention throughout. 
 You were a born reporter, Dick. I envy you. Oh 
 my hand I my hand !" 
 
 The friends were silent for a moment. Richard felt 
 that Tom must have time to feel his loss and recover 
 from It. Just now, as he began to get well and strong, 
 the sense of hjs amputation was very keen. 
 
 "When can I go out, Dick ? I am getting anxious 
 to be on the street again." 
 
 "Well, this is your second week ; you have made 
 good progress. The doctor told me that if all went well 
 he should consider you able to go out by the end of 
 next week. And if possible, Tom, we must hear King on 
 Sunday n.ght-a week from this coming Sunday It is 
 rumored that he is going to preach on the strike, and 
 the whole c.ty will be out to hear him. It is even rumored 
 that a large body of the strikers will be present, and 
 possibly Tower himself." 
 
 T u"''^. ^°'."^'" '■^P^'^^ "^o"" ^"'etly. "I shall be able. 
 John Kmg is my object of worship, Dick. I could call 
 him master, I believe." 
 
 "And yet John King calls Jesus Christ Master. How 
 do you account for that ?" 
 
 standi/' ^r-?"^ *°.'"'' ^''^- N° ' I ^=^""0* ""der- 
 stand It. Christianity is not personal to me yet. Shall 
 I ever know it that way ?" 
 
 Richard could only reply, "I hope so, Tom" and 
 there the talk ended for that time. 
 
 RicIard"hT/''"'J" °" '""^^ "^"^^"y «"^"d and 
 Kichard had to go down to the office. But Tom was 
 more than usually thoughtful that day. 
 
 'I shall be a Christian yet in spite of myself" he 
 murmured. " I wonder If I can forgive Con then /'can'^ 
 
 an Tin."""* "^'"^ '^' ^^'' *^"^ *°««t'^^'-' Richard had 
 an experience very hard to bear, under the circum 
 
ii6 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 deZ; . '^^l ^'°"^^' °"* '^' "^^' «''°"8' Puritan 
 element in him, and tested him in other ways. He still 
 
 kept up the night school and wrote on his book at every 
 
 possible opportunity; but it was painfully slow progress 
 
 He had submitted the first four chapters to a good maga- 
 
 z.ne in the city, at Mr. King's advice, and was prom!fed 
 
 an answer of some sort by the next week. His work on 
 
 Ihe Universe, especially his success with Tower had 
 
 The loo". T' '' ^-^^"-^"«' -d he was b^Siiil 
 to be looked upon as a very promising young journalist 
 
 out ir^h^n''^"'' '"'''^^"^' ^^'" ^'^^^"-^ *^« J"«t going 
 
 paper, and the company has decided to increase vour 
 salary ten dollars a month." ^crease your 
 
 thin^'tort '^'"''''^ ^'"^ \"^ ^''^^^' ^"'"8 that some- 
 thing more was coming. Mr. Case went on •- 
 
 hSYV^^^^ '' ^ ^'^ *^'"^ ^°' "= J"«t now. and we 
 have decided to get out a Monday morning edition. The 
 
 paperran7dH"''".1" °"^ "' ^'^ °'^-"- --ervative 
 papers, and did not favor an everyday paper • but the 
 
 new members of the company are in favor ofi 'and hive 
 voted to have it. That will necessitate Sunday work J 
 suppose. Mr. Bruce, you will not object to putting in a 
 part of your time'tomorrow ?" P«i"ng m a 
 
 quie'lly':!!' '°°''^ ^''- ^'^^ '"" '" ^^^ ^^^^ ^"d said 
 ;; Yes, sir ; I do object. I will not work on Sunday." 
 A. will be only part of the day ; we will excuse you 
 from evening work and only expect you to give us the 
 ^iZl^'nlLulT' "°^ -^-^t-ding%ieh:rd: 
 work ^ "^^^ °^^"''''"^ *° ^ ^"" day's 
 
 R'chard drew himself up and replied, with the straight- 
 forward bluntness characteristic of him. a habit Xh 
 seemed to one not familiar with it almost rude :- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 117 
 
 "Mr, Case, you do not understand me. I will not 
 work for the paper a minute on Sunday." 
 
 There was no mistaking Richard this time. Mr. Case 
 was a man of great executive ability, a successful news- 
 paper man who had risen to his position by much hard 
 work and a talent for details which was almost genius. 
 But he was a man of no special religious principle and he 
 had a fearful temper at times, which more than once had 
 cost him dear/ He was enraged at Richard now. The 
 thought that this young man who had just had his salary 
 increased should refuse to do work on the paper was 
 absurd to Mr. Case. It was even worse than that, it was 
 insulting. He turned to his desk and remarked coldly, 
 a way he had when very much angered : — 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Bruce ; I suppose The Universe can 
 dispense with your services week-days as well as 
 Sundays." 
 
 The minute he said it he regretted it He was the 
 best man on the staflf. But Richard was not the man to 
 be given his dismissal twice. 
 
 "I understand I'm discharged, of course," he said 
 quietly. " My week is up tonight. I will finish my copy 
 for the evening edition today and then quit." He went 
 out, put in a good day's work, handed in his copy on 
 time, and left the office of The Daily Universe for good. 
 Mr. Case had made a mistake, but like a good many 
 proud men, he would not own it to anybody but him- 
 self. However, he regretted his action, and, as events 
 turned out, had good reason for his regret. 
 
 Richard debated with himself whether to tell Tom 
 at once, and finally decided to wait till Monday morning. 
 Tom was able to go out, and was planning to hear King 
 preach on the morrow. He would not mar his pleasure at 
 getting out by this event which would be likely to vex 
 him. So he spent the rest of the day on his book, writing 
 at John King's, in a little room .back of the preacher's 
 own study, which was reached by a back staircase, with- 
 out passing through the great man's own room. This 
 
ii8 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 turbulent experiences he was having, and John King 
 understood all that when he let him use it. 
 
 .rH^^!"/""T*f ^"""^"'"^ '^^'"^ '* ^°""d Tom and Rich- 
 ard seated m John King's church, a full hour before the 
 service began, and even then they had hard work to get 
 m and secure a place. They were well down in front, 
 and the greatest crowd the huge building had ever wit^ 
 nessed surged into it until it was filled like a granary 
 bursting with wheat. Aisles and gallery and platform and 
 teps.were jammed. Men climbed up on the window 
 seats, and even sat on the gallery railing. The rumor 
 had gone out, in what way no one knew, that John King 
 was going to preach ,on the events of the strike, which 
 was even at that moment apparently at its crisis. The 
 
 t?. T'T* u f""- ^°"^ °"* *^^* '^''^"' the leader of 
 he strikers, had signified his intention of being present 
 and interrupting the speaker if he said anything agains 
 Chicago t . ° '* "^'^ *'' "'^^^ tremendous audience 
 th.nl?; "''"■ 'T' ^"^ ^^'" ^'^^ d°^^ «t the back of 
 the platform opened, and John King came out. finding 
 bardy room enough to make his way to the simile desk 
 he looked out at an audience such as few men ever saw 
 His face was the face of one who had come out of long 
 prayer with the invisible but loving Father ; and as fl 
 simply contmuing that prayer begun in the little room 
 back of the platform, he went on at once as his habitTf 
 service was, with a petition so warm, glowing and elo 
 quent m its complete simplicity that it lifted Ihe entire 
 audience into a new atmosphere. Without a pause aftir 
 the Amen had been spoken, the preacher gave oSt 
 
 of the r;"' *'' ^"''^"?' ^"^P'^^^ "^y the m'agnetism 
 of the occasion, sang it gloriously. Then John King 
 
 read the twenty-second chapter of Matthew's Gospel. an5 
 
 began his service at once without any of those prelL inary 
 
 flourishes of rhetoric so common to the pulpit H^ texT 
 
 "^^Z:^ T!1J^!^^ <^"-- in the worS 
 
 /hat thirit ...s ^r it, 
 
 c Christ f 
 
 ^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 119 
 
 You have come in here expecting me to talk to you 
 about the great strike now in progress in this city. By 
 whose authority this came to be your expectation I do 
 not know, but it was not from me. The subject is in 
 every man's mind, in the daily press, and prominent in 
 the thought of the people of this country and the lands 
 across the sea. But it is a subject wliich has no compari- 
 son m importance beside this one which I bring in here 
 to you to-night : ' What think ye of the Christ ? ' For 
 SIX days ye have been seething and burning and raging 
 over the great question of the strike. Ye have talked it 
 over at your meals and on the street and in the eating 
 houses and saloons and hotels and theaters and offices. 
 1 o-night I claim the privilege and duty of an ambassador 
 of Jesus Christ to put to you another question more 
 important, more necessary to your eternal destiny than 
 any other, the answer to which will involve more happi- 
 ness or misery than any other question-' What think ye 
 of the Christ? O men, men I ye grow eager and wild 
 and enthusiastic and mad when something happens in 
 the commercial world to touch the things that minister to 
 your bodies, and ye think them of so much importance 
 that ye begrudge the preacher his chosen subject, which 
 has God in it. rather than man and his selfish designs 
 against his neighbor. But to-night I claim my right to 
 bring to the front my Master. I will exalt Him He is 
 the answer to all troubles, O brother men ! How shall 
 discussion of the difficulties between capital and labor 
 
 "^u?, .x?.^"^ °J *^^ ^'^"^'^ ""'"« «"«" themselves are 
 right ? What advantage shall it be to say the one side 
 
 'Ll'fu °l t f*^'' "^' ^' ^'°"8^' ""'««s both sides 
 kneel humbly before one Father-God I ' What think ye 
 of the Christ ?• Was He right when He said the two 
 great commandments were to love God with all the heart 
 soul and mind, and to love one's neighbor as one's self ? 
 How many of you are doing it ? What are the feelings 
 
 m your ihnenme ? A~ *1 _-» » .. ... * 
 
 y ... ,^.^J, „„j iceimgs oi bitterness, 
 
 of revenge, of selfishness, of hatred, of retaliation ? 
 
I20 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 What thiink ye of the Christ ? ' Was He right when He 
 said He was the Way and the Truth and the Life ^ and if 
 so. how many of you are walking that Way. seeking that 
 Truth, hving that Life ? O brothers, my heart aches for 
 this great city. We have all these years been building up 
 a so-called civilization on a rotten base. It has not been 
 a basis of love to God and love to man ; u has been a 
 basis of money-making and selfishness and greed and 
 narrowness, and the men who have worked with their 
 hands have been as selfish in their way as the men that 
 have worked with their selfish brains. And we have 
 allowed that hell's vestibule, the saloon, to run its devil's 
 business for the sake of revenue, every cent of which 
 represents a ruined home, a blasted reputation, a street 
 And ' \^""=f '. /'^ - >'«le child's hunger and tear! 
 And we have built costly public buildings and churches 
 aio ^'°7^*^^^"^ ^'th princely elegance, and lav 
 allowed the foreign emigrant and the vicious and the 
 Ignorant to grow up apart from us in dangerous ignor^ 
 ance of the gospel of Christianity, while we have sat L 
 
 our rouTd' oT f "' '''°"* ^^'^ "^"^'"^^^ °^ ^^"'^^ with 
 IZ ITl P'^^^"*-"' and volcanoes have smouldered 
 and earthquakes rumbled at our feet while we went our 
 way. careless and unheeding. And we have despised 
 Jesus. Who is He ? That peasant Jew ? What has He 
 to do with my life ? No. I must see to these matter! 
 of money and business and politics. They of fir 
 
 oT the rh" . ?V "" *° ^°" ^°-"'^^*' ' ^hat think y 
 of the Christ ?• According to your answer to that ques- 
 tjon will depend all other questions. If every man t 
 this house to-night were to answer that question Ty say" 
 
 Ind In H "' "", ''K'''''"' '' ^« ^''^'^d and folwed 
 and oved supremely, this great strike would be concluded 
 wisely and to the satisfaction of hoth sides. Men men 
 are you not willing to surrender your hearts to this Jesus? 
 Ah! It requires so much giving up of the selfish habits 
 of years the prejuditees of custom, the enjoyment of 
 hating; but. 'What think ye of the Christ ?' ThTnnI 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. ia| 
 
 tion is before you now-the greatest in the world; and 
 
 ttn ITth" """"' "''" '' ^h^" ^" --^-ber this ques- 
 col '^! ^r*"^ y^ «-" heard; and this occasion will 
 come up before you. That time will be the judgmen 
 
 crucified .' '''TV' ^'^ ""'^^^^^ °^ "^*-- will siT the 
 
 be?o e Hi^°" .^°'' ^"' '' ^^^ -^-"« P-«« along 
 before Him, your turn will come; and if when you come 
 
 smi te'n°"id:'°'' V ^^7"-— <« ^row and the s^ea"! 
 smtten side you have loved and adored on earth you 
 will not be fearful, but will take your seat on a throne 
 
 trnTdo^^"- '"^ '''' ^°" approach th^at ma t 
 reco.;,-?. l ""VT ^'^ f^" t° y°"" with a loving 
 Tf Ete arcro; '''". "'""' ^^^" *^« ^>-'«hty love 
 Tnof ^ "'" '^ y°" ^'■e banished from the pres- 
 
 Saviour ? U m1 J^u u ' ' *° '^P^"*' *° <=all Him 
 bdng" IsH^\Z ' f'^' ^''* ''^^^^'^^ °^ ^ human 
 troubles of t?. % '°"'^'''' ""'^^'" *° ^" ^^e selfish 
 iT.ll ."" '' '* struggles for a living? Has 
 
 WifZ "atr;! 'M°"' '?. """' """^ =''«"' ">"' f 
 •viu you say then, I have lived my life well- T h,„ 
 
 ness and v.ce, and all forms of selfish indulgence a"d I 
 voir 
 
 shadow, ready to lay it 
 
 'd foot on that other shore— will 
 
 on you when you have set 
 
 you say, 'I am 
 
122 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 not afraid; I gave myself to Christ, I loved Him He 
 forgave me. I shall be with Him. There is no condem- 
 nation to me. for I am in Christ Jesus ?' 'What think 
 ye of the Chrkt V My heart longs for you to decide the 
 question to-night; say you will. What revolution could 
 this wicked city behold equal to the revolution of seeing 
 this great crowd of humanity turning heart and soul to 
 Jesus, and saying with one accord, ' My Lord, my Goc«!' " 
 Richard had been so intent listening that he hao not 
 paid any attention to Tom. As John Kitig paused a ino- 
 ment after the last sentence Richard was completely 
 astounded to see Tom rise in his seat. John King saw 
 him. and waited. Richard thought perhaps Tom was 
 out of his right mind from excitement and his late suf- 
 fering, but one glance at his face showed it to be per- 
 fectly cahn, though a look shone out of it never seen 
 
 Richard could not believe his senses. H seemed to him 
 that he was in a dream as he witnessed what now took 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 123 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Seek ye first the kingdom of God.-Jesus Christ. 
 
 or lent Z'J'"^ T °"' '° *^'"^ ""' ""^"'y '-^'^'^d 
 or acting from impulse or emotion," began Tom in a 
 
 at:n?«,"n oTtl""' ^^^'"I,^ ^"^'^^^ ^° ^'^^ 'ushed si "ed 
 1 feel that I must; and I know that Mr. King will gladly 
 
 He paused a moment, then went on with an increase 
 of emphasis not made by raising his voice, but by a 
 feehng so strong within him that what he saii smote on 
 
 ottr fl^s.^' ''-''' °^ -'' ''' '^' suddenlyte^pt 
 
 "I have lived like thousands of young men in this 
 
 -ty a good moral life; but I have never called aiy one 
 
 a"mo as ifTt V/rrf '"-^"' ^^'^ --<^ ''•-- 
 almost as ,f he testified before a solemn court-" to-night 
 
 from tJ^ time VVi P"^* '^ "^ ^-*"' -^ tha 
 Ife tlTj' \"^,^^'P' I '"^an to live a Christian 
 life. I do not wish to be misunderstood. I am not un- 
 duly excited. I am calm. This is a matter of wmwkh 
 me «iore than of feeling. But I am willing to say hi I 
 
 men, and the feeling has come over me so powerfully 
 
 ^at I cannot keep still. I have felt that I must con"e s 
 
 ?om hrid ^"',"'^-!!^ "^^^ore men. See. then!" td 
 
 the sti, ft?, ^V^""' ^""' ^'^P'-y'"^ to the audience 
 
 n h e I Weftt ''"'"P °' '^' "•"'• "^hen I came 
 
 Lm . ^ P"'°" ^'^^ ""sed me the injury 
 
 that lost me mv right hand I -3.M 'T ^- "":/njury 
 
 * "• ^ "^^f i Can never lorglve 
 
124 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 him. Now I feel -that I can forgive him wholly. I must 
 do so if I have the Christ spirit in me. I wish to say 
 that I here and now call Christ my Master, and I desire 
 . nothmg so much as to submit my whole life to Him so 
 that If I were to stand before His judgment seat to-night 
 I might have no reason to be ashamed because I dared 
 not confess Him before men." 
 
 Tom stood a moment looking over the great crowd 
 and then sat down. Richard threw his arm about him. 
 and Tom looked into his face and smiled through tears 
 of joy. But the eflfect upon the audience of that simple 
 statement of the surrender of a human will to the divine 
 will was indescribable. It was a crisis with John King 
 and a test of his powers. Would he go on with his ser- 
 mon or not ? The interruption was such as any preacher 
 might well be glad over, but what would he do with it ? 
 While Tom was speaking he knew what he would do 
 Ihe great audience was under the control of a greater 
 power than his own. When Tom sat down, the silence 
 was more intense than ever, and John King began very 
 slowly and in a low voice : " Whosoever, therefore, shall 
 confess Me before men. him will I confess also before 
 My Father which is in heaven.' Friends, brothers, sons 
 and daughters of God. a greater One than man has come 
 in here and taken, possession of this service. What has 
 been said by this son of the one All-Father may be said 
 by every person in this house if he will open his heart 
 Zu .'?^"""" ^^ the Spirit present here in power. 
 Who will surrender his will to the will of the Divine ? 
 Who will say. not as a matter of emotion, but of will, to 
 this Christ who still rules the world. 'My Lord, and 
 my God ? 
 
 A moment of the most awful stilness reigned through- 
 out the house, and then from every part of it men arose 
 and said, "I will!" "I will!" It was noticeable that 
 their voices were low and clear. No one shouted There 
 was no cheap excitement. Groups of men and women 
 rose as if they were determined on their decision to- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 125 
 
 gether where they sat. and said ahnost as if one voice 
 spoke. -I will!" "I wUlI- And so the n,ost rema k 
 able revjva of modern times had its beginning. iTwas 
 s .mated that over a thousand persons, the majori y o 
 them grown men, rose that night in John King' church 
 and acknowledged Christ as Master; and after events 
 proved that m nearly every case the action was remark 
 ably smcere in the complete changing of the ?^e ' 
 
 rest of" t^. I ° '^°"''"^ P^"°"^ ^^'"^i"^^. The 
 rest of the audience quietly dispersed and spread the 
 news of that wonderful service over the citv John T^ 
 worked as he never worked before [hat „ ghf H s"gt"d 
 
 terTh f' '"' r^^^"^ °"* ^"^ «''"fi«d his Mas 
 
 poisessed iZT "f °' ''t '""^'^^ °^ ^"^ ^-^"'^y he 
 be ca 1.H :^ T""^ ^''' '°""^''^^' '^ «° ^hey could 
 
 be called, some of the most prominent leaders in the 
 
 them ' r' "^'■^r "°^^^- 'T^^^'- -«« not among 
 them, and no one knew whether he had been present 
 durmg the evening; but scores of men who harbeen 
 leaders on both sides of the great commercial strugg e 
 me that n.ght and looked into one another's face whUe 
 
 nothe?" TT'"'/""^" '''''"' -^ they clasp d on 
 another s hands and said. " Brother "-they who had 
 
 germed all the movement to a power greater than h.'c 
 iviaster that he had been permitted to live and see such 
 
 Ln'f T" °' ''^ '^'"*- ^"* t^^t -- onV the be 
 g-nnmg. The movement spread. Every church in the 
 
 «f /- J i , "t**^^ *^"*y was swept by the breafl, 
 
 of God. and lay quiet under it. This was the nf.rl 5 
 feature of this unparalleled " '""'^"^ 
 
 ■1 
 ■I 
 
 awakcnin 
 
 "Jiy. 
 
 Th 
 
 ei'e was no 
 
126 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 remarkable excitement, no loud talking, no hysterical 
 scenes, God's Spirit seemed to appeal to the will of the 
 people. Men rose in meetings everywhere and calmly 
 said, " I am persuaded of Christ's claims on me, and I 
 call Him Master. I wish to live the Christ life. I will 
 make my life, by His help, conform to His teachings 
 and Spirit." There was a hush of power over men. One 
 of the most wonderful results was that over the great 
 strike. Scenes were witnessed in the camp which men 
 who saw them declared to be wholly indescribable. Men 
 bowed their wills before God; they called Christ Master. 
 Tower still retained great influence; but the character 
 of the strike was changed. Measures which once had 
 been thought impossible to carry out were advocated by 
 both sides in the grekt struggle. The strike ended. The 
 camp on the south side dissolved. The railroads once 
 more resumed their regular traffic, and the reign of terror 
 ceased. But men moved through the streets and went 
 about their business in Chicago with awed feelings. It 
 was, as many living at the time declared, almost as if a 
 terrible plague had swept over the city and carried off 
 half its inhabitants— only with this difference : the feel- 
 ing at heart was' a feeling of deep and solemn joy. As 
 one expressed it, the age of miracles seemed to have 
 returned, and God was the most actual fact of all things 
 in that mighty metropolis. 
 
 Through all this, one man remained unmoved and 
 unchanged, his ambition checked but not destroyed, the 
 man Tower; and as days went by and his hold on the 
 masses gradually weakened, he raged at heart to think 
 that one man, John King, had, to his earthly mind, been 
 the cause of all his loss of power, and a feeling of hatred 
 as strong as the man's own nature grew in him as he 
 thought of the great preacher, and vowed that he was his 
 enemy, to be so regarded as long as he lived. 
 
 Richard and Tom were drawn toward each other as 
 never before. It was a new world to Tom, that Christian 
 life he had onee wondered if he shou!d ever possess. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 127 
 
 Through the days that followed he understood his old 
 
 and'l' '""'T^u' '^ '^'^ "^^" ""derstood it before 
 and as for himself, the world seemed new; all hirold 
 conceptions of duty and service and love to men we e 
 infused with the new life Just opening up to hTm 
 
 Place TolZl '/T '^^'^ ^° ^^^ °'<^ hoarding 
 pjflipr «f *r, i* lowij'. jonn Jving did not uree 
 
 can ''It Thai •;;°/"^"«.^^*" Tom's conversion, if we may 
 can it .that (his decision wouM ht^ tu^ ^ ^ 
 
 word), Richard told his frilnd of hi. H ,"^°'-% ^""'"^te 
 Daily Universe discharge from The 
 
 being, „„i,l you got well again " ° 
 
 Tom'^S/" """^ "■" ^°'"^ '-" ">.rer' a,ked 
 
 .,?°r».*".r. "e inquired .ri„„,p,;:",,v. 
 
128 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 " Nonsense, Dick! Why, it's as plain as one of John 
 King's sermons : ' If at first you don't succeed, try, try 
 again.' 'Mary had a little lamb,' indeed!" 
 
 '"Try, try again!' Well, I think you'd better try 
 again. But, come to look at it, I don't know but that 
 you could make that out of it. Ah, Tom, if Case will 
 only take you back and give you a chance, I believe you 
 can make your mark yet." 
 
 " Of course I can. And what did John King tell us 
 last night ? ' Let every man go on with his work to- 
 morrow as usual. Carry your Christian life into your 
 business. Do not consider it necessary to stop your useful 
 or honorable pursuits unless God calls you directly to do 
 something else.' That sounds so sensible, Dick. We 
 have got to live; the hospital expenses ate into our 
 treasury heavily, and I believe my Master would say to 
 me this morning, ' You can honor me by bravely going 
 to work. And in the course of your work you will find 
 opportunities enough to present Me to men.' I have 
 thought it all out, Dick. I am going down to see Mr. 
 Case this forenoon, and try for my old place. There's 
 no reason why I can't be a real Christian and a reporter 
 on a paper at the same time, is there, Dick ?" 
 " No It isn't easy, but it can be done." 
 " Well, my chosen business is just as dear to me as it 
 ever was. I can't preach and I can't write religious books 
 and I can't be a missionary; but I believe I can serve 
 my Master in this profession, don't you ?" 
 
 " Of course I do. We can't all be preachers in the 
 way King is. Thank God, Tom, that you mean to carry 
 your service to the new Master right into your chosen 
 profession! I don't think the Lord made you to be a 
 preacher." 
 
 "I know He didn't," said Tom with emphasis. "I 
 couldn't preach any more than I could teach a drove of 
 wild elephants to play football." 
 
 So Tom went down to the office of The Daily Uni- 
 verse while Riciiard put in the time over his book, a little 
 
/HE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 129 
 
 anxiously awaiting the reply to his chapters submitted 
 to the monthly magazine. He expected to hear from the 
 publishers any day. For some reason they had failed to 
 give him their decision as promised the week before 
 
 Mr. Case greeted Tom cordially and inquired after 
 his injury and the amputation with much interest, but he 
 seemed to have no thought that Tom was expecting to 
 come back to his old work. But Tom was as direct in 
 his way as Richard, and after a few sentences he said • 
 Can I have my old place on the paper, Mr. Case ?" 
 
 Mr. Case looked surprised. "Why, you can't do the 
 work with your left hand." 
 
 "Try me and see," said Tom. "If I can't fill the 
 position, I won't ask you to keep me." 
 
 Mr. Case hesitated. Tom had been a capital hand at 
 the business; one of the best, in fact, that he ever knew. 
 Richard s place was not filled yet, and it was busy times 
 in the newspaper world. 
 
 VnlT*"^ "^f ' ^"' ^°^''''^- Y°" "^^y K° ^'ght on. 
 You know what you can do with one hand. I won't com- 
 plain If you write with your foot, if the work is done " 
 and Mr. Case smiled grimly. ' 
 
 "Thank you." said Tom, and rose to go out. Mr. 
 Case called after h.m : " You know that we have started 
 a Monday edition. That calls for Sunday work. This 
 strike and the sensation last night at John King's church 
 g.ves us plenty to do." Mr. Case had not been present 
 at the church, and the newspaper accounts of the scene 
 
 TnTJ^t "°u T""" '^°'"'' "^'"^ ^^ °"« °f the actors. 
 In fact the whole movement had involved so many per- 
 
 callLl^I? 7" ''*^ '■'^P"*^*'°" '^'' «««"t'on was 
 called to them almost altogether. 
 
 n.-I°'"/''"'''l. ^* '"'"*^ '*''^"»« t° him now that 
 ne ther he nor Richard had discussed the probability of 
 Mn Case s wanting Tom to do Sunday work. However 
 
 li'!;!'^"''' '* ""'^ "°* ^''^^^^^' and Tom confronted 
 th. n-=wun as a new one. Three weeks before he would 
 have thought the Sunday work a nuisance, but he would 
 
I30 
 
 . RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 have done it. Now he felt differently. He said to him- 
 self, ' If Jesus Christ were in my place, would He work 
 for a daily paper on Sunday ?' The only answer he could 
 give was no. He turned around and said to Mr. Case, 
 who had resumed his work at his desk, thinking Tom had 
 gone out : 
 
 " Mr. Case, I would like to be excused from Sunday 
 work." 
 
 "Whatl" Mr. Case wheeled around sharply. 
 
 "I would like to be excused from working Sunday." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 "Because I don't believe in it," said Tom, getting 
 angry in spite of hidself. 
 
 Mr, Case caught fire from Tom's anger. 
 " You and Mr. Bruce are a pair of angels. When The 
 Daily Universe is run in the interest of Sunday-schools 
 and revivals you and he can apply for a position on a 
 salary equal to your refined abilities. But this paper is 
 edited in Chicago, not in heaven.'' 
 
 "Yes; you'd lose your place mighty quick if it was 
 edited in heaven," muttered Tom. 
 
 "We can dispense with your services, sir," replied 
 Mr. Case in his coldest tone. He turned his back on 
 Tom, and Tom marched out with his left hand tightly 
 clenched, and feeling mad all over. 
 
 " If I wasn't converted, I'd go back and tell him what 
 I think of him," he said. And then a flood of feeling 
 came over him. "la disciple of the Master! I a fol- 
 lower of the crucified One! And I have disgraced Him 
 by my passion. I am unworthy His name!" 
 
 He walked slowly for a block, then turned around 
 and walked steadily back to the office of The Universe. 
 He went in, and Mr. Case turned and looked at him. 
 There were two other reporters present. Tom knew them 
 quite well. They had visited him during his illness. 
 
 "Mr. Case," said Tom with an effou, "I wish to 
 apologize for the way in which I spoke to you, and also 
 
 I 
 I 
 i 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 131 
 
 for losing my temper as I did. Will you accept my 
 apology as a Christian gentleman ?" 
 
 Mr. Case bit his lip. and then deliberately turned his 
 
 t^frtr T°'"'/'*'^°"' * ^^--d- Tom flushed up and then 
 turned pale. It was the first tim* he had ever apologized 
 to a man in his life, and it was an entirely new and bitter 
 experience to him. The two reporters looked embar- 
 rassed, but said nothing. There was a moment's painful 
 hush and then Tom turned and went out. He walked 
 rapidly through the streets in a conflict of feeling. He 
 elt better for having made the apology, and he felt worse 
 for having received such an answer to it. Ah. Tomt in 
 
 tL'/nr °^ *^ •' "'^ ^^'''' ^°" "« ^^^'""'"^ to learn 
 sp endid views, and breathe some delightful air as you 
 paiently climb the upward road and feel God's hand in 
 yours, clasping ,t more lovingly and firmly every day 
 
 He felt better by the time he reached his room. Tell- 
 ing It over to Richard was a relief to him. 
 His old friend looked at him lovingly. 
 "You won't regret it, Tom. Strange, isn't it that 
 neither of us thought of the Sunday work i'n your cU r 
 Why, I was thinking all the time that Case would 
 simply let me drop back into my old place, and I never 
 TfT/r.!, ' ^""''"^ ^^""^ ^ ^''^"K'^*' «"d I believe 
 let me do extra work on other days enough to make up 
 
 " There are other papers, Tom. You can get work in 
 time somewhere." ^ ^ '" 
 
 "Yes; but it isn't so easy. After all, the loss of my 
 
 bufl'/fr *".*"''''" '"^ '^°'" ''«^''^- "I «l°"'t I^now 
 but 1 11 have to go as a missionary after all. I don't think 
 
 I was cut out for one, but I might be cut up for one if I 
 fell in with the cannibals." 
 
 Jwst therx the postman brought up the mail. There 
 was a letter for Richard. He opened it. read it through! 
 
 
ill 
 
 \f 
 
 }ii ! 
 
 132 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ! t 
 
 ii ! 
 
 jumped up and exclaimed, " Hear this, Tom! And he 
 read aloud : 
 
 " Office of The Monthly Visitor. 
 " Richard Bruce : 
 
 " Dear Sir, — The MS. of your story has been read with 
 interest by one of the firm, and we shall be pleased ^ 
 print the story as a serial, under certain conditions. For 
 terms, etc., an interview is solicited at your earliest con- 
 venience. 
 
 " We are, very truly yours, 
 
 "Calvin & Sons." 
 34 Book Street, Chicago, 111. 
 
 "Dick!" cried Tom in genuine delight, "the book 
 was a dark horse after all. Oh, for my good right hand 
 to shake with you! It's splendid. I need a hundred dol- 
 lars the worst kind, and if you are embarrassed with your 
 fortune I can invest some of it, and not charge you over 
 ten per cent commission either." 
 
 "Pooh! It isn't likely the publishers will give me a 
 hundred dollars for the book," said Richard; but he 
 looked very much pleased, and walked up and down the 
 little room as his habit was. It was something to have 
 Calvin & Sons print the book in The Monthly Visitor. 
 
 "Why don't you go right down and see them this 
 morning, Dick ?" asked Tom, who shared his friend's 
 excitement. 
 
 "I believe I will. They say at my eariiest conveni- 
 ence. I can't write any more now. Come on down 
 with me." 
 
 "All right. And while you are asking Calvin & Song 
 not to give you too much for the book, for fear of making 
 you proud, I will go around and see Con." 
 
 At the office of Calvin & Sons the two parted, Tom 
 saying that he expected to be back for one o'clock lunch. 
 We^ will follow Richard into No. 34 Book Street. 
 
 He was a little nervous and excited, but, with his 
 
 I 
 
 i^ ; I 
 
■i 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 '33 
 
 TelL?""^'"u Pl'''°^°P'^y' '•^^dy for anything, very 
 cheerful, and hupeiul of final results 
 
 He inquired for Mr. Calvin. A very large but very 
 this letrrAt:^rSinTit^r ^^ ^" ^^ ^ 
 
 -^"^hirr^tr^iSt^rr^^ 
 
 quamtance So you are the author a thT manuscr p" 
 have had the pleasure of reading I thinl, , ""^"'P*.' 
 when you submitted it ?" "^^ "^ ^ ^"' "°* '" 
 
 " No, sir. I met one of your sons " 
 Th« K V'°' ^^l?"^ ""^ *° congratulate you. Mr Bruce 
 
 shanh°°^ '' r" '"'«"^'' ^"^' ^^ we write you we 
 ^all be pleased to give it to the reading public as a serial 
 What do you want for it ?" '*'• 
 
 Richard was surprised at the dirertnp« ^f ♦u 
 .ion. b„. h. rapHod .ik. a .™e vXr """" 
 
 What will you give ?" 
 
 Richard smiled. " The remaining chapters sir =„ 
 
 ■• WhltTBuf"* "." ' "'•"' "" °' 'Sval^r- 
 work „' co„rs!""'°" ^"" """" "'«""« P'» o( .he 
 
 r.harpaStvrc-h:rdr.LT;::r.T.t 
 
 I don't think it will hurt you Mr Rr.,^« ♦ i 
 that every pe.o. i„ the officeTx'ce^[- ±1^,:' J° I".!! 
 
 srthrt T -^."'"^''"^ ^''^ •^°°'^- Th'ere" is'a^st;;;; 
 
 feehng that ,t will prove a failure. But to my mind the 
 
1 !., 
 
 134 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Story presents a very strong and able defense of many 
 things at present demanded by our social life. The re- 
 cent events of the strike have emphasized this. I believe 
 the story will take and be widely read. For that reason 
 I am willing to give it a trial ; and if you feel satisfied 
 with the terms we will close the bargain now, and I can 
 advance you half the sum at once, on condition, of course, 
 that the remaining chapters are finished before the third 
 number of The VJntor is issued." 
 
 " I agree to the terms," replied Richard quietly, as 
 if selling books were an everyday occurrence with him. 
 If he hesitated at all over the price, it was simply to won- 
 der whether he could make a living at that rate — two 
 hundred and fifty dollars for six months' hard work. But 
 he was so rejoiced to find a publisher, he had such faith 
 in the book to do good, that he would have accepted al- 
 most any offer for it. The bargain was closed by the 
 writing of a simple contract, and Richard went out of the 
 office with one hundred and twenty-five dollars, the 
 proudest man in Chicago. 
 
 He hurried back to his room to tell Tom, but his old 
 chum had not returned. He did not come to lunch, and 
 the afternoon was growing into evening as Richard sat 
 writing away, and beginning to wonder where Tom could 
 be, and thinking it almost time to light the lamp. He 
 had risen to get a light when Tom's step sounded out- 
 side, and he came in and sat down by the window. Rich- 
 ard could not see his face very well in the dusk of the 
 room, but he feared he was ill, and stepping over to him 
 he exclaimed : " Why, Tom, where have you been ? Are 
 you ill?" 
 
 " No." Tom's voice sounded strangely. " I'm well 
 enough ; don't light the lamp yet, Dick. I have strange 
 news to tell you. Con is dead." 
 " Dead ! and in jail ? " 
 
 hand. 
 
 I 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 135 
 
 
 ". jy^^' ^""^ '^'^ '* *'^PP^" ■ " asJ^ed Richard. 
 I II tell you in a minute, Dick." Tom waited, and 
 then went on, more composed :— 
 
 " You see, I went over to the jail directly after leav- 
 ing you. They would not let me in without an order from 
 the proper authorities. This is under the new regula- 
 tions. It took me an hour to get the order. When I 
 came back I found the jail in the greatest excitement. 
 I showed my order to one of the officers and he took me 
 jnto a small room back of the main corridor, and there 
 lay Con, and the mmute I saw him I knew he was dead." 
 Richard listened with horror only increased by Tom's 
 recital as he continued :— 
 
 vu^"^ ?'''^'' "^^""^ '"^''" '* ^""^ '"Ofe terrible, he was 
 killed in the ja.l during that hour that I was out getting 
 the order The prisoners who were detained for trial 
 were in the central room of the building. One of the 
 foreigners, who had been arrested the day before for an 
 assault, had a quarrel with Con, and during the quarrel 
 
 R-Tn n"'',^"^ '" '"'^ " ^"^ '''^ *° '^'H him instantly. 
 But O Dick, the thought that seems most terrible to me 
 
 HvJS'VJ T ^7 ""'T °"* °^ '^'' ^°'"^^ J"^t ^s he had 
 I.ved, and I did not have time to tell him that I forgave 
 
 him and try to win his degraded soul back to the image 
 of the heavenly Father ! Why didn't I go to see him last 
 week ? Won't the Master hold me to account for hiTso"! 
 when I face him at the judgment ? " 
 
 "No, Tom ; you are excited now and you do your- 
 self injustice, and that is as wrong as to do another per- 
 
 nn.T M "°tJ ^°'"^ *° ^^" ^°" ^°°"«'- ? And sup- 
 
 been IZ . . ° r" ''''"^ ^' "°"'^ ^^-« "^^«-a"ly 
 been converted or changed in character ? " 
 
 terrihW ifX^T T' ^'t ^"* ^°" ^^""°* *hink how 
 terribly I felt when I saw that dead body. My mind went 
 
 back with a flash to that night at the school when I wa, 
 -"«gwng witn the boy and something not far from mur- 
 der was ,n my heart then, I know there was. Well, every- 
 
'! I 
 
 I 
 
 136 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 thing in me has changed since then. Last night while 
 
 King was speaking I seemed to see my Master on the 
 
 cross and hear His cry, ' Father, forgive them ; for they 
 
 know not what they do I ' and I said to myself, * If the 
 
 Saviour who came to rescue me from evil could say that 
 
 of His enemies, cannot I say it of mine ? Can I forgive 
 
 Con ?' And I felt an answer come stealing into my 
 
 heart, ' Yes, yes, I can forgive him !' I was a murderer 
 
 at heart myself. I meant to do him great bodily injury 
 
 at any rate. And terrible as the loss of my hand has been 
 
 to me, Dick, I did then and there know within myself 
 
 that Con was no longer an object of hatred to me, but 
 
 I loved him as a possible son of God, if God would only 
 
 allow me to help redeem him from evil. And I cannot 
 
 comfort myself yet, for he went out of this world and I 
 
 did not tell hfm." 
 
 Tom laid his head on the table and sobbed. The strain 
 on his feelings had been very great. Richard put his 
 hand on his head and soothed him with all the wisdom 
 in his power. Gradually Tom grew calmer. It was quite 
 dark in the room now as he concluded his account of the 
 day's experience. 
 
 "After my first shock was over, Dick, I found out 
 where Con lived, and it seemed to me I ought to take the 
 news to his people, if he had anybody that loved him or 
 cared for him. Dick, you will not believe me. I found 
 the wretched room where Con's mother lived; she is a 
 cripple. There are two other children, a little girl and 
 a boy; the father is sick in the hospital from a fall. It 
 seems he was a lineman in the telegraph company's em- 
 ploy. Con's mother sews— makes coats for the sweaters. 
 I don't know how I told her; but I did somehow. She 
 did not say a word at first, but folded her thin hands 
 across Iier lap and let her tears fall on them. Then she 
 said. ' He was not a good boy, but he was the son of my 
 love. O Con, Con, your mother's heart is broken!' 
 
 "Well, Dick, I couldn't stand it. I got one of the 
 neighbors to come in, and I went away. Felt like a 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 n? 
 
 coward but couldn't help it. I'll do something for the 
 amily ,f I ever get any means. Oh, what a thing mother 
 ove IS isn't ,t ? Nearest like the love of God of any- 
 thmg known to earth. Then. Dick, I went around to 
 several of the newspaper men and told them the storv 
 and they all subscribed liberally, and we took Con s tdy 
 home and made arrangements for the funeral; and then 
 I went to see Mr. King, and when I left he was there 
 
 rslrjrt-^"' ^T';- "''''''' -- being cTmf^S 
 as only John Kmg and his sister can do it. It's been a 
 
 city ,s being shaken by the hand of God as never before 
 
 s rvTce aft ni^h!' ^ '^" '"'"'"^ ^^^"^ "^ ^"" ^^ the 
 
 poiuics or the races or the strike hnf ♦!,- j , . 
 
 things that had happened at^ohf Kt's^^dT'c^he 
 places dunng the day. I cannot but believe we are to sL 
 wondrous things in this old earth's history, RicharS " 
 
 "God grant we may!" replied Richard solemnly 
 Tom s narative had stirred him deeply. For the t^if. 
 being all thought of the book was irone tL ! 
 
 hke s h , , comparrv^trtheT a"ic":c^: 
 
 iom had witnessed. Tom wao tu^ ^ . ■ 
 .H. book. Richard rIZZ Z:ZZ '"'""'' """ 
 
 Tom seemed a little disapoointed " t*'o .• . 
 
 ^^, ,„. . „.H .1. -"^i J„V -^:;"':; 
 
 How much havp vmi o-«* i^u w. . . _ ^"^ ^^°'«- 
 ing the money with his Wt^ha,;^ ' ''''*" ''°'"' '°^''- 
 
iM 
 
 
 i (ill 
 
 Mil 
 
 If 
 
 138 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "I shall have a hundred and fifty when I am paid 
 up, replied Richard truthfully. 
 
 " Don't you think that's too much money for one man 
 to possess ?" asked Tom with something of his old-time 
 irony at his chum's childlikeness in money matters. 
 
 Richard looked at Tom and answered, "Tom, take 
 a part of the money and help Con's mother with it I 
 appoint you trustee. We can certainly earn our living 
 at hard work, and it does not seem right to me to have 
 so much when women like her are working for sweaters." 
 "I'll take ten dollars but not a cent more," said Tom 
 resolutely, and all Richard's urging could not change his 
 determination. " There'll be ways enough to spend it, 
 pick; too many, if you begin this way. Better let me 
 invest the money in writing paper and ink for you." 
 
 " Oh, dearl wealth is a great care and brings much 
 responsibility," said Richard with a sigh. " Suppose you 
 act as treasurer of the establishment. Tom, now that we 
 are thrown together, and when I want any for clothes or 
 necessaries I will come to you for it." 
 
 "Will you give me six per cent for keeping it for 
 yoti ? asked Tom with a twinkle of the eye. 
 
 t *u^V'''' ^°" ^''^" ""* ^^^^ anything but the honor 
 of the office; and I shall expect you to be strictly trust- 
 worthy and not run off to Canada with the deposit " 
 
 So Tom, after some urging, finding that Richard was 
 in earnest about it, actually took the money in trust, and 
 Richard felt very easy over the matter. 
 
 The next two days passed without special events in 
 our friends' lives. The revival grew in p^ower. The out" 
 door meetings increased. The church buildings could not 
 hold the crowds. John King was apparently everywhere 
 Now the friends heard of him at one end of the city aid 
 then at another. He was a man of iron, seemingly for 
 
 out Its bony hand or crime stalked defiant there vou 
 
 might look for John King, and expect to find him syT 
 
 pathizinjr. comforfmtr i;ff.„„ ..____ •"" nim sym- 
 
 =' ""'s u^-, reproving, working, 
 
\i 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 139 
 
 With a tear in the eye and a hope in the heart for all God's 
 children. 
 
 It was Wednesday night, and Richard had returned 
 from his night school to find Tom restlessly pacing the 
 room. As Richard came in. Tom exclaimed. " I can't 
 stand this inaction any longer. Dick. Here I have 
 
 nn^ M k' 7"""^ '" '^"^ ^''•'""^ «"'*'"8 't- I a™ tired 
 out. Nobody wants an old soldier for a reporter Tell 
 
 you what. I wish I could talk to the women folksl I'd 
 load up a basket with tinware, coffee pots, quart meas- 
 wMr .'"'''' '*r' ^"'^ ^'^ "°""^ »"to folks' back yards 
 
 tni Tu'' ^^^ " "'•"«• ' '^"^ ^ ^«"°w doing that 
 o-day. and he appeared to be having a good time. You 
 
 to hi, l^? 'a ^""^ °" ^°"' y°" ^°"'d tie a tin pail 
 
 to his tail and get even with him that way " 
 
 Its too ba.' but you must be patient, Tom. We 
 
 view'T V"'f^" ^''"''''' ^'■°'" ^ «"»"^'^' point of 
 oTa" o^nin'^:^" ' ^°" «° *° ^^^^^ ^'"^^ «« -^^^ know 
 
 KO tO^hTj'nn^"' i°"' '° '""'^ ^°'" "'' ^"^ ^ d0"'t 'ike to 
 
 go to him now. Every man, woman, and child in Chicajro 
 seems to think John King is public property, to be usfS 
 without paying taxes or making rep.L. I eight to take 
 care of myself now." There was a pause. R^a d wa! 
 hinking hard. Suddenly he looked up and said '' ?" 
 
 " ronH', w/°"' '^"'"' ^°^ ^ -'^"' ' 'east." 
 Good! What IS it ? Shovelling coal or grindinir a 
 hand-organ on the corner ?" grinding a 
 
 .ou co:?;'do th^: ;;;: Sgtr S'r::;tal ht'c^:;: 
 :^tKot'" '•^^^' and I J:^alf;;L^re I--:; r 
 
 hisllL?l'*lr'^.:rtT°'"':'^-P-^ ^'^e table with 
 that way. How much lon;;;7s ;h?te;m7 ''' ^^^^" 
 
I40 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 
 .Mi 
 
 "Three weeks; and by the end of that time some- 
 thing will certainly turn up for you." 
 
 So Tom went into the night school, and before the 
 three weeks were gone had won the boys to him. and 
 many of them to the new Master, by his manly, loving 
 presentation of the new life. We may have occasion to 
 mention one or two incidents in that experience of his. 
 but we are compelled now to turn to one of the events 
 Of the great awakening as it progressed throughout the 
 City, 
 
 * .., ^ u^ ^il^'^^^'" '"^^^'"Ss had almost taken the place of 
 the church meetings. The weather had been remarkably 
 clear and dry. The ,iir was as pure as it ever can be in 
 
 ni^JT'f."*^'- uT^' T'^ •'"'"^"" "^^''^ had gathered 
 thfi. .U "t^ *" 'K""''^- '^^^ "'"^ «P'"t pervaded 
 them all. There was the same absence of excitement or 
 
 rt fvr. ^•!" ^''i'^'^ '° '^^''' ^"J'ngness to live the 
 Chnstlike life, and went to their homes and began to act 
 out; A perfect revolution swept the social and busi- 
 ness hfe of Chicago. For a time the greatest power there 
 was the divme Presence. While all this was true, there 
 were many exceptions. As has always been the case 
 historically when a revival has sprung up. the devil ap- 
 peared to be more malignant in some ways than ever- 
 and with some of the foreign population there was an 
 evident desire to bring back the old times of lawlessness 
 and commotion. 
 
 It was Sunday night again, two weeks from the first 
 meeting in John King's church, and he had made an 
 
 wLT!."""* 'u Tu"^ f° '^' P^°P'« ^t ^"^ °^ the parks. 
 When he reached the place he found the man Tower the 
 
 former leader of the strikers, addressing a large crowd 
 
 tl rr^"'[^ '■°'" ' P''*^^''" '''''''^ °"'y « short dis- 
 tance from that put up for the preaching. The park regu- 
 lations at the time allowed any respectable body of citi- 
 zens to arange for public gatherings of this kind. The 
 
 UD thfJ" .^°^^'•\P^'•* ^^« plainly an attempt to break 
 . i-o-Qi... a«tnvrxrxg. ric was aaaressing his mixed 
 
 [■ 
 
 • '3 
 
 '■ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 141 
 
 r 
 
 audience, now in German, now in Italian, now in Scan- 
 dinavian. He was an accomplished linguist, and knew 
 how to handle an audience well. He was making a 
 powerful speech. He was a man of great gifts in the 
 power of swaying an audience, and he had this one well 
 in hand. 
 
 John King mounted his platform and sat quietly down. 
 He was not a linguist like Tower, but he understood 
 German well enough to know that Tower was making 
 a passionate appeal to the prejudices of his hearers 
 against the priestly power that had gained control of men, 
 and urging them to remember their degradation and 
 poverty and the inequality which widened the gap be- 
 tween them and the rich and powerful. It was a masterly 
 effort, many of its arguments well taken, but much said 
 that appealed directly to passion and ignorance as well 
 as to reason and judgment. 
 
 It was at the close of one of Tower's eloquent periods, 
 just as the crowd hung breathless between the closing 
 word and a storm of applause, that John King rose, his 
 magnificent form looming up grandly even in compari- 
 son with Tower, who had a splendid development physi- 
 cally, and exclaimed in a voice clear, ringing, and, more 
 than all, loving: "Brothers, men of America, which is 
 your adopted home, wh^^re already you have buried some 
 of your dear ones and where little children have been 
 born to you, and where you have come to love the flag 
 that floats for greater liberty than ye knew in other lands, 
 hear me a moment, in the name of God and humanity 
 and the blessed Christ who came to redeem us all." 
 
 " It was astonishing to note the effect of that simple 
 appeal. The crowd leaned, as it were, toward the 
 speaker. The same hush that was so often noticeable in 
 John King's church was apparent here at once. The 
 divme presence seemed to awe and quiet men in the 
 -presence of this ambassador of God. Many a grimy, hard- 
 fisted German anrf rr>ti<TVi-fan»<<^<./4 C___j; ?_- 
 
 — 1_ .„uq., .^-.uutva .jcainjiiiuvmn recog- 
 
 nized m that noble face the man who had climbed his 
 
 ,.i. 
 
142 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 tenement stairs and prayed beside his dying one or 
 
 d;:d'lnd?or' " ^' ^"^ '"* ^^^-^ --p--- <>-: z 
 
 dead, and not a man hving, not even Tower, could sway 
 that audience away from him now. ^ 
 
 runnW*" ^°"^J°'^" ^ing spoke-^ marvellous speech, 
 running over with love for men, with love for Christ 
 
 tT t'tKraVm "°^^'- ^' ^^^'^^ ^" Hnglish. Lo^g 
 tftat the great majority of even the largely foreign ele- 
 
 ofts^montT".' '^"^" enough.%U the clo e 
 
 wills trtr\S"wni°^ mT'r '"""Z'-'^' ''''' 
 
 follows : °^'"^ '^°''*^^ wefe as 
 
 "The loving Father made us of different races and 
 anguages and habits.' but He made our soL a 1 one 
 
 heart l'„rsT°"^^ '^ ''''' '■ *^^* ^ ^°- H^m : th 
 heart mmd, soul, and strength, and our neighbor a. 
 ourselves; and it was to show us how this cou d be don 
 that His only begotten Son came into the world Whn 
 was Jesus Christ ? Whatever else He was. H was the 
 the'hur^ •" 1! ^'^ "^^'^ ^'^° ---'^d he divfne to 
 
 we knoTHTlo f '°""- "^^ '"^^ «« '"-^ God; 
 we know He loved men; we know He went His wav 
 
 strs' tt T' "'"''"^ ^'^^ '^''''' -'^' "' F^^nd of 
 ChrTs w. ^°'"P^"'°" °^ the lowly; and this is the 
 Chnst we are willing to call Master. Who will he 
 
 So""'^ *v ? *" t--«ht-that Prince of the lorld 
 Do you hink it will make little difference with your 
 t anf ' ^°^ bread whether you call Him MasT ? X 
 
 of God and h' """ ^ "^' ' '^^' ^' «"* ^^e kingdom' 
 the breadl. /.' '"'^hteousness; and all these things '- 
 Z.lAi ' ''""^ ^"^ *h« necessities of life-' shall 
 
 ress ? Z\ S^ ?.°.* ^"P °^" '*^ P°^"ty and dis- 
 Obev H,^' "" ?' ^'^- ^"* 8^'^^ yo"'- wills to Him. 
 Obey His commands, and it shall be better with you than 
 you have ever supposed possible. Notice he Xnge" 
 going on at present in this city-changes in th. .« 
 
 mercial world hitherto unAr^.J^-- ^ " ■ ^" 
 -- TTivQ ui, and ail owing to 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 HS 
 
 divine fM ' ^"'''' *" '^'" *"'^"'*«^ t°*^^d the 
 
 til u " ^ ""^^ '" *^'' "^y °"t «>f work to-day ? 
 
 He knows where he can get it at good pay by going to 
 the very cUy which three weeks ago had nothingTn its 
 msdom to offer thousands of starving men. And how 
 has th,s been brought about ? By the admission of even 
 the enem.es of Christ it has been brought about by means 
 oi ch.s great turning of men's hearts to God annhe 
 opemng up of the avenues of the hearts of many wealthy 
 
 "f rich tLTt"' '•'"'■ '"*'"^' ^"^ ^'^'^'y 'housands 
 of r ch men in this city, moved by the Spirit of God are 
 
 cTangfr °^ ']^r "^f '^ ^"^ Power'permanent to 
 and all thU T 71 °^""^^"^' -"d unjust socfety; 
 brethren °"f.^ *.^" "''""^^ °^ ^'^"^ ^^thin. O my 
 
 w one;''' "" '" °^ °"' ''""^^^"'^ °^ f^'th if only we 
 will open our eyes to see it. Who will give himself to 
 the divine service ? Who will say as thousandsTre sa^- 
 
 God ? Who will kneel to-night, before he lies down to 
 sleep and pray to God for Jesus' sake to forgive aTl his 
 
 s/terdi^i.^ ''"" '^ '- ''' "- '^^- ^^^^^^ 
 
 It was nearly midnight when John King departed 
 from the scene of this gathering, where more"^ than two 
 thousand men testified to the power of God. The g ^a" 
 preacher was overcome with awe and joy. His eyes were 
 wet with tears his heart beat with praise he Jot 
 derful sight. He walked home at last, going by a short 
 way which took him through one or two obscure and 
 narrow streets. As he crossed over one of these and 
 came under a light at a corner he was aware of a man 
 standing there and as he put his foot on the idewalk 
 
 TowrTh;"lo"d'''"^^ T' 'r' ''™- '' -- *^' -" 
 
 lower, who stood immediately in front of John King 
 
 sTlence"%"'" ''"'''T'^ ''''' ^^'^^ '^^ a momen in 
 silence. Tower was the first to speak. 
 
144 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 But / say unto you. Love your enemies.— Jesus Christ. 
 
 Tower spoke in a tone of suppressed passion, which 
 had at the same time a threat in it. 
 
 " So you are the man who calls himself a Christian 
 and a preacher of the Gospel, and who has done more 
 than any one man ^n the city to destroy my influence 
 over the workingmen." 
 
 John King looked at him calmly and replied very 
 quietly, " I think you must be mistaken, sir; I have not 
 been conscious of any such action. I certainly have not 
 wished to destroy any man's influence over any other 
 man, unDsss it were wrong." 
 
 " Do you deny that you took my audience away from 
 me to-night ?" 
 
 Well, sir," replied King with a slight smile, not of 
 triumph, but of real humor, "it was not your audience 
 any more than mine. I certainly gave you a fair chance, 
 and you have the advantage of me in being able to talk 
 three languages to my one." 
 
 Tower stamped his foot on the pavement savagely. 
 This time he spoke with a sneer. " Come, sir, you need 
 not try your childish arts of persuasion on me, for I am 
 beyond them. Prepare to defend yourself, for by all the 
 strange devils of this strange city, and there are none 
 stranger than those who have ruled the last two weeks, 
 I pledge you the word of a man who neve- broke his 
 word that I will have my pleasure in beating your body, 
 seeing I have been debarred the privilege of beating 
 your mind or whatever it is that gives you such power." 
 John King had seen a great deal of the world, but 
 
 ha 
 
 id never before been confronted with such a man 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 H5 
 
 as Tower or faced such a crisis as this. He was a 
 
 fearbtt thT^'^f^"^' ^^"' ^^^ ^^'^ -^ the slightest 
 tear but that in a hand-to-hand combat with Tower he 
 could defend himself even against his an^rrage Tfa 
 men were about the same height and general build In! 
 ctse'l/in": ^^^ f '' *'^^ ^"^"^'''^^ -«=h otherqaiJe 
 met wa "o„f'7t "'"• "".'^ ^'^^^ "^"^ ^'^^ ^-° ^ad 
 Chicago The h .M '"°'* '^"^^'^ ^"^ unfrequented in 
 ^-mcago The buildmgs were storehouses or warehouses 
 uninhabited, and the police were not in thThabit ol 
 patrohng the neighborhood often. The hour wa^eLlv 
 
 thent°'r ''''/^°' ^"'■P^^^'y ^°^ ^he sake of meetrng 
 iS^^^rngs'betTer.""^'^"^ ''"'' '' -"^^ ^ ^^^ ^^oTe^ 
 
 his^etmf l"n^t'T '''"''If "^. *^ '^'^ ^"" ^^'^^t. looked 
 nis enemy m the face, and said very deliberately " Mr 
 
 atrkV"''°" ' "^"" *° ^^^-^ -y-'^ from s'uch .« 
 
 as Zh'" No' "'"^ ^'■' ^. '''^"'•^' ^"** I ^i» whip you 
 or ^ot ?•" ° "°''' "°'-'^- ^'" y°" d^^end yo'u rself 
 
 hoc'if''"' ^'^'" *'° *' ^*'"st would do in my place- i^ 
 
 -Le mr:cs'„T..«"- " - -'"= - - «"; 
 
 W hesitated. He had not counted on this He 
 
 iL's'Td-eir^-'SiLr r «""■'- 
 
 " You are a cnvilrA V ! ^'"^"^ ^^ exclaimed, 
 
 And°l,U°.he";ol' hT^S K^nV: T ' T """' 
 the face. ^ ^ ^^'^-^^re blow upon 
 
 he stood liS a r«k T '!,! """ *="«^ P"'. <"" 
 
 oav^ a „ine, mistaking Kinff's action f« «,- 
 
 o. .he hW. and the t^o n,er,Sr, ^a" ir„T 
 
146 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 each with clenched fists, looking at each other. When 
 John King spoke it was in a voice singularly calm and 
 earnest. 
 
 "Mr. Tower, you have struck me and called me a 
 coward. But I have neither attempted to run away nor 
 cried out for help. Does not tliat prove that I am not 
 a coward ?" 
 
 Tower confronted the preacher in silent rage. He 
 was struck with the way King had put the matter. He 
 did not know just what to do. He was beginning to feel 
 uncomfortable. He found vent for his feelings in a string 
 of oaths. "Curses >on you! Will you fight or not. 
 preacher ?" 
 
 John King looked at his antagon-ii sternly. "Sir," 
 he said slowly, "I will spend my last ounce of streng'h 
 m fighting the devil, but I will not raise my hand again.t 
 you, because I believe you are entirely wrong in your 
 thought of me. You consider me your enemy; instead 
 of that I am your friend. If J were your enemy, I would 
 strike back; and I am fully a strong a man as you are. 
 If you do not believe it, I can prove it to you." 
 
 In front of the warehouse where all this had taken 
 place was a wooden awning which j)rojected over the 
 sidewalk a few feet. Under the awning had been rolled 
 several barrels of salt. They were lying on their sides. 
 John King stooped down and ended one of the barrels 
 up. Then he picked up another barrel, and raising it 
 bodily placed it end for end on top of the first so that 
 the two stood together. There were not a dozen men 
 in Chicago, outside of professional athletes, who coulc 
 have done it. Tower knew that he could not, strong man 
 as he was, and he looked on in sullen amazement at this 
 man, who had received a blow in the face without re- 
 turning It, and yet who had evidently the strength of a 
 modern giant. 
 
 There was an impresive silence. Tohn Kin" «t.* his 
 hand up to his face as he felt something warm°trickHng 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 H7 
 
 down h,s cheek. It was blood. Tower wore on his 
 m.ddle finger a large ring set with a peculiar square stonl 
 Lst h ^'" X '''"'^' ""'"^ ^^^ ""« ^^d cut a slight gash 
 ch lf't7 •'^'7!; ?^ P^^^*=h" t°°k out his handker- 
 ch ef and wi.ed off the blood, and as he did so he held 
 
 o7LX'iSTat;r ''- -'' - '"--^^« --' 
 
 •'Come, my brother, did not the Fathe.- 6f all mat. 
 us to love each other ? Why should ,o„ hate me when 
 
 God sr.!^d^""'' """■ =° "■°" '•" "-«" - "- »»" 
 
 It was a turning point in Tower's life. Strong nature 
 nrerini,i'°M'' «'" «"" '» "^ '■" W, prwf rel"! 
 master m? ""° ' "™"«"-' «' ''»'' ">« ^s 
 
 S haf„Tr°°' '°°' '"'' "«"' "«" ■" «•« blow 
 
 2'^r ?^U7errnrr^-ru,rs.5:.^^-r 
 riadTuifhV. fwiii^hir hTt " " *^"' 
 
 .ttlt- InTte'iZetS -«--"-- 
 but only like thn.. """'" 'P""^"*^ "P '" him, 
 
 terv^ulf u ^^'"^ 'P""«« which have rare in 
 
 vents of i"''!'"? ? °"* °^ *he hard limestone The 
 events of the strike had bFought out his trih^ Jf i 
 
 whose church the TZ ! , '^"'°"' preacher at 
 
 ac tnurcn tne new social movement had hpm,« u 
 
 an. wJi-tTd -o'i'ltiXtL^^fo-Tu^liih i/m IndT'' 
 
 -.ratd-;.i:xrhrm:rs^-:-s 
 
^w^ 
 
 !■ 
 
 Z48 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 at King in a troubled way, but did not take nis hand. 
 Finally he burst out as if he were beside himself, 
 "'Brother!' A pretty brother I would make for you I 
 You do not know me." 
 
 " I know that God hath made one all nations that are 
 upon the earth," replied John King gently, " and I know 
 that His best name is Love, and that His greatest com- 
 mand is 'Love one another.' Why will you not call 
 me your brother as I have called you mine ?" 
 
 " Because we are enemies." 
 
 " How can we be enemies if I do not hate you ? Is 
 it not necessary for tiro to iate each other to be enemies?" 
 
 Tower did not reply. A great struggle was going on 
 in him. The better man was crowding up to the surface. 
 At last he said slowly, as if he were weighing every 
 word : 
 
 " I will shake hands with you on one condition." 
 " Name it," said John King with a smile. 
 " That you strike me in the face as hard a blow as I 
 struck you." 
 
 " I don't dare to do it," answered King with a pleasant 
 laugh, "for fear you will forget yourself and hit me 
 again, and then to even it up I would be entitled to an- 
 other blow, and no one can tell where the fight would 
 end. resides," he added, " I don't know just how hard 
 yea hit me, and I could not guarantee to return exactly 
 the same kind of a blow. Ah, my brother, forget all 
 about it! Is not life too serious and eternal to dwell on 
 anything less than the greatest things ? Be assured, my 
 brother, I love you. I will clasp hands with you for a 
 common battle in behalf of that humanity we both hold 
 so dear. Come! say you will. You will not regret it to 
 all eternity." 
 
 Tower stood irresolute a moment ; then he extended 
 his hand and put it within John King's own. His face 
 was set and pale as death; his lips trembled; there was 
 a tear ui his eye. . : two men stood under the little 
 
- « 4. 
 
 THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 149 
 
 light and looked into each other's faces. Neither said 
 anything. John King uttered a silent prayer : " I thank 
 Thee, my Master, for getting the victory for Thy dear 
 sake." 
 
 At last Tower said in a low tone, " I did you an in- 
 jury, sir, and I am sorry. I think I should be struck 
 for It. 
 
 "And what good would that do, brother"? Are you 
 not punished sufficiently ? No; that is past. We won't 
 live m that any more. If I forgive it, what more do you 
 want ? Do you think God delights to punish a man for 
 his sins after he has repented of them ?" 
 
 " Must not the man suffer even if he is forgiven ?" ' 
 
 "Ah! You are a theologian, I see," said John King, 
 
 smilmg. Sometime I will discuss that point with you: 
 
 but we want plenty of time. Shall we be going on ? I 
 
 live on Plain Street. Will you walk along with me ?" 
 
 Tower silently nodded, and the two men walked along 
 together. They did not say much. Once as they passed 
 by an open drug store Tower stopped and sai<J, " Better 
 let me go in and get something to put on your face to 
 stop the bleeding." 
 
 " It doesn't hurt me now. There is no need," replied 
 King, and he gently drew his companion along. At his 
 own. door he faced Tower and said, "Will you come and 
 see me to-morrow night ? It is the only night in the 
 week that is open to me, and we will have a good talk 
 together." 
 
 "Yes, I'll come," replied Tower after a slight pause. 
 Ihen he returned King's hand-clasp and slowly walked 
 down the street, with his head bent, as one who walks in 
 a dream and wonders at himself, while John King went 
 into his plainly furnished sleeping room and kneeled 
 down and offered up this prayer : 
 
 " It has been a wonderful day for me, my Master I 
 have been permitted to see mighty things in Thy kine- 
 ciom on the earth; and I thank Thee for the many souls 
 that have walked into the light of eternal day and are 
 
 V'^R^^fe, 
 
 -:■'';■. '.^T'T'^vJ 
 
 Ok. 
 
■. -i 
 P 
 
 1 1 
 
 150 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 rejoicing in its beauty and happiness. I thank Thee that 
 at last, after the long years of discouragement and cold- 
 ness and disheartening, and the sneers of Thine enemies, 
 Thou hast revealed Thyself in power to this great city, 
 which slumbers in awe under Thy mighty presence. How 
 wonderful are Thy ways I how miraculous Thy regen- 
 erating force! and I, Thy servant, do oflfer my heart's 
 thanks for what I have seen. Thine is all the glory. Thou 
 who didst humble Thyself from Thine infinite majesty 
 and take upon Thyself the form of a servant and dwell 
 -mong us as a man. A'nd now, my dear Lord, my heart 
 goes out for the heaft of this man I have met to-night. 
 If It is Thy way to bring men to Thee through other men, 
 use me to draw him towards Thee. I come to Thee for 
 wisdom and for more love. There was a single moment 
 of hatred in my heart when he struck me, my Master; 
 but it was not the new man in me, and Thou knowest if 
 I did not cry to Thee for help at once. Oh, I pray for 
 him! For he is strong to do mighty work if he will give 
 himself to Thee. Thou wilt help me, wilt Thou not, dear 
 Friend, and astound Thine Adversary by the regenera- 
 tion of one of his own creatures ? I repose in Thy peace 
 this night. I believe in Thee, eternal Life. Help me in 
 this tabernacle to glorify Thy name, and grant me to live 
 continually as one who fears nothing and hopes every- 
 thing, and beholds an inexpressible eternity of joy and 
 progress with Thee. ' I will both lay me down in peace 
 and sleep; for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in 
 safety.' Amem." 
 
 He slept like a child, and awoke to another week of 
 work with the thought of Tower in mind throughout the 
 day as he worked. When evening came, Tower was true 
 to his word, and the two sat down in John King's study 
 where many thrilling interviews, all unknown to the 
 world, had been held. John King had made every pos- 
 sible endeavor to remove the mark of the blow he had 
 received, in order that Tower might not be confrnnf^d 
 wijh it, but had only partially succeeded. His greeting of 
 
 ^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 151 
 
 Tower was so hearty and unmistakable that the man 
 could not but feel that the preacher was entirely free from 
 ill-will; in fact, that he had forgotten the event of the 
 past night. 
 
 "It has been a little strange that we have not seen 
 each other before this," King began. " I was all over the 
 south side during the strike, and heard your name men- 
 tioned at every street corner, but never happened to see 
 you." 
 
 Tower laughed a little and spoke in a somewhat bitter, 
 hard fashion, softened some by the thought of his recent 
 encounter with the man opposite. 
 
 " The fact is," he replied, " I purposely avoided you. 
 I had an idea that you were a religious enthusiast. That 
 is one reason I never went to hear you preach, I have 
 always regarded the Church as opposed to the poor and 
 favoring only the rich and aristocratic." 
 
 " Where did you get that idea, my brother ?" 
 " From the people." 
 " The people ?" 
 " Yes; the masses." 
 " What do you mean by the masses ?" 
 Tower answered thoughtfully. He was on his own 
 ground now, and felt at home. 
 
 " By the masses I mean the men and women who work 
 with their hands for their daily bread— the carpenters, 
 painters, masons, hod-carriers, street-cleaners, machinists! 
 artisans, sewing girls— those who make their living by 
 day's wages, not by salaries or by any profession or in- 
 corporated business." 
 
 "^ Why should they be called the masses ?" 
 " Because they outnumber all others groups of men in- 
 cluded in the professional and wealthy orders of society." 
 " Then you would not call me one of the masses ?" 
 inquired John King with a slight smile. 
 " No, of course not." 
 " Would you call me a working man ?" 
 " No, indeed," replied Tower without hesitation. 
 
152 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 '' You would not deny that I work hard every day?" 
 " No ; still I would not call you a working man." 
 
 Why not ?" 
 " Because you don't work with your hands." 
 " But would you grant that what I do is as useful and 
 necessary t« the good of society as what th. hod<arrier 
 does or the street cleaner or the farmer ?" 
 
 Tower hesitated. King saw that he did not wish to an- 
 swer the question. He leaned over toward him and said 
 very frankly : 
 
 " Mr. Tower, all our talk will be useless unless we 
 talk very plainly and t^ll each other just exactly what we 
 think. Life IS too short to waste in empty compliments 
 and soft evasions of the real difficulties between men 
 You need not be afraid of hurting my feelings. You 
 ought to know that. When I talk with a man who has 
 opposite views from my own I count it a great favor to 
 have that man tell me exactly what he believes. There is 
 no use in talking unless we do that with each other " 
 
 Tower saw at once the spirit of the man with whom he 
 was engaged. He nodded gravely and replied at once : 
 
 Well, then, sir. I will answer your question by saying 
 that I do not regard your work as necessary to the good 
 o society as the work of the artisan or the producer of 
 articles irom the soil or the shoo " 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 nnH\^"'"'' ^.°" "' "^'"""^ ^''^' '"^"^^ °^ speculation 
 and theory and not adding anything to the comfort or 
 
 happiness of society on its side of actual existence " 
 
 ho ^.a ^"^ ^?* ^'r *''"P''* admirably. For a minute 
 he made no reply. It was possible he was offering a 
 prayer that the man, his brother, opposite, might be led 
 ou into the wider thought of life as it r;ally\as a1 
 last he said calmly : 
 
 theory°"'°" '"^"^ ^""' ^^"'' '' ^ ^Peculation or a 
 
 n^J"^^:^^^ ^" historical person, I suppose." r.nUeH 
 X uwcr, snming in his seat a iittle uneasily. " 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 153 
 
 "Do you regard His teachings as necessary to the 
 world's happiness ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then is it not acjv.. ary that some men should make 
 It the business o' their hv 3 to apply these teachings to 
 mens lives and ry 'o get ,en to live the same life that 
 Christ lived ? A. d • t.,at ■ , true, are not these men do- 
 «ng as much for th - ...al gcod of society as the men 
 who produce, as you say, something from the soil or the 
 shop ?" 
 
 "Yes; if they apply the teachings of Christ The 
 question is, do they ? Or is the whole basis of the Church 
 of the present founded upon wealth and family and forms 
 and creeds and living as remote from the real needs of 
 the people and of the hour as if Christ were a theory in- 
 stead of a fact ? I do not quarrel with the teachings of 
 Christ; I only quarrel with the Church, because it has 
 not hved by His teachings. How many preachers in 
 this city, Mr. King, ever preached from the text, 'It is 
 hard for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven'? 
 And yet that was one of Christ's teachings." 
 
 " I know a dozen preachers in this city who have used 
 that text or one like it, within the last six months. How 
 do you know what is being preached nowadays, my 
 brother, if you do not go to church ? I used that very 
 text myself three weeks ago, and it did not convert all 
 the nch men in the audience, either. You would not 
 blame me for tf,at, would you ?" 
 
 Tower seemed struck by the remark. " No," he said 
 
 I am familiar with the human being and know how hard 
 
 he IS to persuade. But I did not know that there was a 
 
 preacher in this city who ever preached on that subject " 
 
 Then you do not know what is going on in the 
 
 churches ? 
 
 .u ''\.'=°"^^" I 'Jo"'*- except as I have an impression 
 that^ they favor the rich and ignore the poor." 
 
 " Do you know what the proportion of rich men to 
 poor men is in the church membership of this country ?" 
 
154 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 " No, I do not." 
 
 "Name one rich man in this city who is a church 
 member. 
 
 Tower gave two or three prominent names. 
 But they are not members; they only attend church 
 services occasionally. I can give you a list of wealthy 
 church members in this city." and King mentioned sev- 
 eral well-known men. " Now take, for example, the 
 membership of my own church, which is twenty-five hun- 
 dred. There are ten men in that number who are said 
 to be worth $100,000. or over. The remainder are men 
 who are working in moderate circumstances to support 
 their families. There are five hundred members in my 
 
 w.r« ""n? "^n °" -^ "^^^^ '^'^ """ by ^^y'' o'- "month's 
 wages. Of really rich men there is only one to every 
 
 two hundred and fifty. So that the bulk of the member- 
 ship is composed really of hard-working men, who, by 
 thrift and industry and temperance, are wearing good 
 clothes and living in comfortable homes. The fact is. 
 Mr. Tower the very wealthy men in this city are no 
 members of churches any more than the very poor are 
 
 tTvlr- L',' '';""'" '^^^ *°-'^^' ^" °-'- * h's coun! 
 try, the middle class, so to speak; that is, the average 
 
 man-neither the very rich nor the very poor. So, when 
 you say the poor are not in the Church. I can truthfully 
 say the rich are not either. They may attend the services, 
 c n1 '^^^!"^y «'^« " the Church, but they are not dis- 
 ciples and do not call themselves disciples of Christ " 
 
 Tower had i:<iened attentively. "Then you would 
 not rebuke the Church for its apparent failure to rea h 
 the masses ? There must be some good reason for the 
 popular impression that the Church is removed from the 
 com^^on people. If not, why are the very poor so sel- 
 dom found in the Church ? I will grant that the mil- 
 honaires are not church members; but you sometimes 
 tlnn ^".'J'.;".*'^*^ ^^^'^^ «"d often hear of their connec 
 tion with It m some way; but the very poor don't eo in- 
 side tne wai.. or unite. Who is to blame for that ?" 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 155 
 
 " My brother," replied John King, rising and pacing 
 the room, " do you remember that when Christ was on 
 the earth He said, " Ye will not come ^0 Me that ye 
 may have Hfe ?' And do you think that che Church or 
 any other institution can deal with all the complex pro- 
 blems of human society and solve them to the satisfaction 
 of everybody ? Do you take into account that the human 
 being himself is very often the very one who stands in 
 the way of his own progress and happiness ? You ask 
 me, Why doesn't the Church reach all classes of society 
 and remove all these evils of inequality and abolish all 
 poverty and crime and disease, and re-establish society 
 upon a new and happy basis ? I answer, Because men 
 are what they are, and what God allowed them to be when 
 He created them. I ask of you. Why do not existing 
 political parties, each one of which claims to have the 
 remedy for the disease of the body politic, cleanse the 
 system and give us a perfect government ? One admin- 
 istration says,' ' Let us hold the reins of government. We 
 will make times easy. We -will reform abuses. We will 
 give every man a fair chance.' And the country gives that 
 party the power, and it holds it for a season; and when 
 the time is out there is the same old cry of hard times and 
 distress. Then another political body, advocating exactly 
 opposite measures, says, ' Away with these rascals! Turn 
 them out!' And the fickle country elects another magis- 
 trate and begins under an entirely new administration; 
 and still the cry of hard times is just as loud, and men get 
 into debt just as fast, and the struggle for existence goes 
 on just the same as ever. Why do not the political parties 
 who claim that governments are their business make 
 easy times for the country ? I'll tell you why. Because 
 of the selfishness of humanity. We say God made this 
 world, and made us and put us into it, and He wants every 
 man to have enough to eat and wear and develop happily. 
 And why doesn't He succeed in His desire ? Because 
 — -I. ..-II i.t,, i^i ix.m: ucvausc rncy are waiKing monu- 
 ments of egotism and selfishness and greed and narrow- 
 
156 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 if 
 
 ness. O men, men, my brothers I God's sons I" John 
 Kmg stretched out his arms towards the great city as it 
 could be seen from the windows at the end of his study. 
 For a while he seemed to forget his visitor. " How great 
 IS the problem of society, and yet how simple I If men 
 would only seek the kingdom of God, if they would only 
 2Jf'"l Tu'^ «! themselves, we would see the millen- 
 mum I And thou Church of the living God, what crimes 
 thTr.- r" "^'""l*"^^ ^" thy name ! Thou hast sheltered 
 the nch and stoken softly to those who dine luxuriously, 
 and turned thy back upon the poor and hungry, and thy 
 servants from the des|c have preached delicately and have 
 been cowards cowards, cowards ! And Christ has ,not 
 been presented to men; and they have turned away in 
 
 tenlnnl ""T ^^^^ " '"'"^"^^ Christianity which has 
 been too t.m.d and too conservative to touch the comtr- n 
 
 ZJ, "'f " ' ^"' ^^^"-^^ ^^°PP^d "- To";r 
 Xnc !L /" * ""T *°"'' ^^Idressing him-" there are 
 
 T.J :. ^^' '°'"' ^°*" ^'"^"S "s wonderfully 
 
 hese pas two weeks. And the Spirit of truth shall guide 
 us mto all the truth." ^ 
 
 "Do you refer to the revival ?" Tower asked tl,c 
 quest,on wuh a curious expression, and a rising tone tha^ 
 betokened deep passion. 
 
 "Yes. I regard it as the most remarkable movement 
 knowrj to h.story. T believe it will solve more hard qTes- 
 t.ons ,„ , economics than all the politicians have 
 
 been able to answer for ten centuries." 
 
 "Mr King," said Tower bitterly, "this religious 
 spasm of the people has cost me all that I hold dear 
 cannot look upon it as you do. I believe it is a super- 
 
 tt '^xlreme" "°"' ^"' ''' ''''' °^ ^* ^"^ '^ ^-«*-- i" 
 «-wi;r lu „„ vtj.n,,ciiicu, ana it is proving 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 157 
 
 a blessing .n many ways, even in the commercial world 
 Is It not true, as I said last night, that any man in this 
 city who IS willing to work can get work at good pay ?" 
 Tower was silent. It was true and he could not deny 
 It. King went on : 
 
 " Is it not true that the condition of the laborer was 
 never so happy as to-day in this city ? And can you ac- 
 count for It tn any other way than by granting the power 
 of the revival over men of wealth and influence who have 
 heretofore been careless of the poor and the laborers ? 
 can you nan.e one bad result of the revival so far ?" 
 
 Tower did not answer. He could not. The revival 
 had been the most remarkable in its results upon the 
 mdustrial world. The rich men and men in office and 
 power throughout Chicago had put the new life to the 
 test in practical business matters and the era of general 
 prosperity and happiness upon which the city was now 
 entering was entirely unparalleled in the history of the 
 7Zf' ^1°"' ^^^. '""'* °^ '^' '•^^'^^' t° him had been 
 tJVu mT '"""'"" ^^^'^ '^' "°^d« of working- 
 
 was hr^^ '« '''*'"''^ *° ^''"' ^"* h'« ^''^^ "P°" them 
 was broken. He was no longer a leader. This had been 
 
 ?ron!?. ''"^' ^^''^ ^^^ '^"^ ^««P««t »"to his 
 
 hf^ V \"*"^"°w nature, and it was this which had given 
 him his hatred against the popular and powerful preacher 
 rhJM w '"^ *^'/' simple-hearted in some things as a 
 self ;»,=. u "^"^ '° ^'^ ^''°'" selfishness and littleness him- 
 self that he was not likely to suspect those faults in other 
 
 a„!rj.wt"'l*^""- ^"' ^' '°°^^^ ^t his visitor now 
 and with the keenest feelings and the truest insight he 
 
 voice^ofr n':* V^''^ !° ^°" ^' ^"*^ ^^° ^°^" y°"- The 
 
 to t ratL?t^ ? '^°^'" *° '^' P^°P'« ^"^ they listen 
 to It rather than to your voice ; and so you have lost your 
 
 cou^eT T- ^"* "" ^°" "°* ^^^' «««" - ? Who 
 ter Ih ' TT i°"* 'T '^' "«''* ^« ^'^h to behold bet- 
 
 J. . - — ''s»!. aiiu Knows tne patli f 
 
 Are we not in the Lands of One who knows far better 
 
158 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 f'- 
 
 than we all things that belong to the good of the world ? 
 Is it possible, my friend, that your love of humanity and 
 your desire to see it lifted up is a love which has a selfish 
 factor in it ? Are you a champion of humanity for the 
 glory you can get out of it ? And will you desert the 
 cause because you are no longer in men's mouths as a 
 leader ?" 
 
 Over Tower's face a broad wave of blood spread in 
 a flush which showed how close home the words of the 
 preacher had come. He half rose from his chair, all his 
 strong passion roused by the plain directness of King's 
 remark. For the first time in his life another man had 
 told him the truth* right to his face and he could not retort 
 with a blow or a denial. This man knew him too well. 
 He sank back into his chair. His face relaxed a little. 
 He laughed a short, hard laugh. 
 
 "You hit me close, Mr. King; but it's hard for a 
 man to lose his hold as I have since this religious craze 
 swept the community." 
 
 " But if you love men, ought not you to be glad to 
 welcome anything that benefits them, even if you your- 
 self are dethroned for a while ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it's bitter to be set aside, after all I did 
 for them, too." 
 
 "Jesus Christ 'came unto His own' and 'His own 
 received Him aiot.' Ah I" said John King with a sigh, 
 "we have to endure very little compared with His suffer- 
 ing and humiliation at the hands of the very men He 
 came to help. Human nature! If it is not totally 
 depraved, it is enough depraved for all practical purposes. 
 But I believe there is nothing better in the world than 
 the love of God for men and the love of men for one 
 another." 
 
 There was silence in that long, low room. Tower did 
 not understand this 'other man. He had never met any 
 one like him before. At last he said :— 
 
 " Mr. King, I don't understand what you mean by 
 the love of Uod and the spiritual nature and all that. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 XS9 
 
 complete 
 
 Ihis whole revival, as you call it, has been a 
 mystery to me. I don't see it as you do." 
 
 " You see its results ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Are they good or bad ?" 
 
 "They are not bad, that I know of. At least, not 
 yet. I suppose I would be compelled to say they are 
 good, so far as we can see." 
 
 work?'*" """"^ ""^ "°' "^^*'^ conclude that it is God's 
 " If God is love." 
 
 in '!^!^i^''■v "°* l""/^' "' '' "°* ^°^' *"d *e are living 
 in the devils world, and it would be better for us if we 
 
 the lovrof r"H'°"- ^'°^'"' " ^' ^^""°* b«^^<^v« - 
 havil^'' ' ""' ''''"°' ^'^^'^' •" ^"y*h'"« ^o'-th 
 
 th J"""" '^"^1.°" the point of asking a question- 
 then seemed to thmk better of it, and there was silence 
 a moment agam. Before either spoke. Mr. King's sister 
 came up with a message from one who wished John King 
 to come at once and attend some one who was dying 
 It was only one call out of a hundred like it every week." 
 The conference between King and Tower was cut short. 
 
 ,,Z *'t °"^ *^""*'°" ^^^^'■^ he went out : 
 nnu. ? •' ""'" ^°" ^'^' *"« * "'«ht to discuss the 
 
 pohtica question with you ? I mean the question as to 
 the systems of government and the functions of money 
 and the true ends of legislation." ^ 
 
 King smiled somewhat faintly. 
 
 " Yes; come a week irom to-night. I doubt if we 
 convert each other." And he hurried away .>. his e rand 
 
 etot- ^'T Jr" ^'°"'^ "^"' home with confl S 
 emotions disturbing his thoughts, the result of that im 
 perfect interview with the great preacher. 
 
 Meanwhile Richard and Tom wen£ their ways, Richard 
 writing day and night on the book, and anxious^S 
 the appearance of thi> first -h-n*- -- ^^ -- 
 Visitor, and Tom going on with the night school and 
 
 . I 
 
x6o 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 
 
 practicing with his left hand until he acquired a degree 
 of skill and speec vruly rcnuwiable; but stiU no place 
 presented itself for the young journalist. One night 
 John King ran down into the ;: ..hooi and was amazed to 
 see what Tom was doing there. He hii beers i?f, it two 
 v'teks, and was entering on the third a id last 'j^Jrore the 
 spring rcxess, which came very late thj? yeaf. King 
 iioticcd that be opened the school with a short prayer, 
 a::i(i ibat the boys were very respectful. But as the even- 
 ing v^o/e on it was apparent that the school had been 
 pr-cJcty thoroughly taken in hand by the r;ew teacher, who 
 evidently believed in the use of new ruthods, and was 
 not afraid of emplbying novel punishmein.. One of these 
 was a whittling bench, where all the res'less boys who 
 could not keep quiet were given a piece of soft pine or 
 black walnut, and told to whittle out something useful 
 or interesting. This occupation, however, grew so popu- 
 lar that Tom was obliged to form a special class, which 
 he dignified by the title of " Class in Industrial Inven- 
 tions in Wood Carving." It was an ast&nishing success, 
 and some of the whittlings were very ingenious. The 
 boys were beginning to bring in other articles of car- 
 pentry, and begged to be allowed to make one end of 
 the room into a sort of shop, where they could saw and 
 plane and hammer. Tom had to refuse the request, but 
 he fairly ached to be able to do something of the kind for 
 his boys. 
 
 As the hour drew near nine o'clock, Tom asked King 
 if he would not address the school. The preacher begged 
 to be excused, and asked Tom to go right on and close 
 in his usual w^y; he was too much interested in what 
 he saw to wish to make a speech. Ton s:^id it was his 
 custom ito close with a short sermon. lr,> • vinkle of his 
 eye as he said it was fully understood H.:a enjoyed by 
 John 1'.. ^g. Tom struck the bel. iv' i'led for a show 
 of ha*. '" on the part of all those ■•.,.■ .id washed their 
 faces before coming into the roou. 'Vat night. About 
 two-thirds of the boys thrust up ths ' hmds, and Tom 
 
/HE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 i6i 
 
 nodded with pleased approval; but he shook his head 
 at the same time and remarked, with a boldness that sur- 
 prised John King : 
 
 " If any boy presents himself to-morrow with a dirty 
 face, he will have to wash it before the whole school. 
 And I do not understand how you manage to wash your 
 faces and not get your hands any cleaner. How is that 
 Bob ?" 
 
 Bob, thus appealed to, a lad with a r iir of astonish- 
 ingly grimy paws, but a tolerably clean face, grinned, but 
 replied : 
 
 "Well, sir, we take turns at the hydrant at washin' 
 faces; but you didn't say nothin' about washin' hands." 
 
 " I don't dare start in too strong at first, you see," 
 said Tom, with an air of resignation, turning to King. 
 
 "Now, then, school, attention! Eyes front! The 
 talk to-night will be on 'The Right Uses of Tobacco.'" 
 
 There was a decided sensation through the school, 
 and several boys took occasion, when they thought they 
 were unobserved by the teacher, to remove large quids 
 of tobacco from their mouths to the floor. 
 
 "One of the first right uses of tobacco," continued 
 Tom cheerfully, " is to take it out of your mouths and 
 throw it away. It is better not to throw it on the floor, 
 as that makes the man who sweeps out swear, and that 
 is bad for him. Another right use of tobacco is to smoke 
 plaints in greenhouses with it, so as to kill the insects 
 that spoil the plants. If you own a greenhouse, always 
 let somebody else do the smoking. Another right use 
 of tobacco is to sign a pledge never to use it in any form, 
 and then keep the pledge. This is one of the best uses 
 of tobacco known to mankind. I need not say much 
 about the use of cigarettes, as there is very little pure 
 tobacco in them ; but one good use of them is to kill off 
 dudes and other animals that are useless to society. An- 
 other right use for tobacco is to preserve the teeth. 
 Take a set of false teeth, such as you see in front of the 
 dentists' offices, and wrap several layers of tobacco leaves 
 
l62 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 !l 
 
 Si. 
 
 around them, and then lay them carefully away in a 
 glass case, and lock up the case, and they will keep with- 
 out needing to be filled for several years. Boys," said 
 Tom, appealing to them with an air of irresistible frank- 
 ness, " I notice that several of you who have begun to 
 follow the mew Master lately have not given up this to- 
 bacco habit. Let me tell you : I don't believe that if 
 Jesus Christ were a boy in Chicago He would chew 
 tobacco. It sounds awful just to mention it. It's a dirty 
 habit that a Christian boy ought to be ashamed of. You 
 ought to keep your souls clean; and one of the ways to 
 begin is to keep tyour faces and your hands and your 
 mouths clean. Why, our bodies are temples of the living 
 God! How can we defile them by this dirty article of 
 common use ? If you value my respect, you will give 
 up the use of tobacco. I can't respect a boy who is dirty; 
 and the Master can't either. And I'll tell you what I'll 
 do : if you will give me each day the money you would 
 spend for tobacco, I will invest it for you in an honest 
 Christiam way that will surprise you. How many boys 
 here will put their money into 'Tom Hov .id's Anti- 
 Tobacco Bank'?" Nearly every hand went up. "Good! 
 Don't forget it now. You have given your pledge as 
 honorable gentlemen, and you will be very much ashamed 
 of yourselves if you don't keep it. School's dismissed." 
 
 Several boys came up to Tom and wanted to sign a 
 paper not to use tobacco. He drew up a simple state- 
 ment, and they signed it and went away in good spirits. 
 When they were gone John King said ? 
 
 "Well, Tom, you have done miracles with this old 
 school." 
 
 "I haven't done it, Mr. King. It is God working 
 through this wonderful historical movement." 
 
 And indeed nothing in those days of deep power in 
 the city was more marked than the change that took 
 place among the boys and young men in the slums and 
 tough quarters. There was the same hush of power every- 
 where among them. Tom was immensely popular. The 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 163 
 
 boys admired him and loved him. He had made a gen- 
 uine conquest of them. King questioned him about his 
 short talks to the school. Tom laughed. 
 
 " Oh, I give them what seems most timely. One 
 night, I talk to them about ' The Best Way to Make a 
 Living'; another evening I talk on 'Poor Boys Who 
 have Become Famous.' One night I gave a talk on 
 ' The Habit of Swearing,' and last night I gave them my 
 views on 'Cleanliness,' and asked them to wash their faces." 
 
 " You'll have to be a preacher yet, Tom," said King, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "No; I was made for newspaper work," said Tom 
 decidedly. " I believe I can do necessary work for Christ 
 in that profession." 
 
 "I believe you can," said King; and as he walked 
 along with Tom he rapidly sketched his idea of what a 
 modern newspaper conducted by a Christian editor ought 
 to be. Tom quivered with excitement. 
 
 "Mr. King, why don't you start such a paper, and 
 hire me for one of the reporters ?" 
 
 "It is possible I will," replied King thoughtfully. 
 " I believe the time is ripe for a first-class religious daily, 
 and this revival will make it possible to get the conse- 
 crated money with which to start it. Will you take a 
 position on the first religious daily ever printed in 
 Chicago ?" 
 
 " Will I ?" cried Tom with a thrill of feeling. .[ 
 will work for such a paper to make it the greatest 
 triumph known in the history of the press." 
 
 "You may consider your services engaged, then," 
 continued King gravely; "for a paper is a near possi- 
 bility. The great obstacle which has hitherto stood in 
 the way has been the lack of means to start an expensive 
 phat But men can be found now who are desirous of 
 ing their money in the advancement of the world's 
 highest good. Tom, the daily is as good as started 
 already; and you can be getting ready for some of the 
 best work of your life." 
 
164 
 
 KICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ¥ ■ 
 
 r * 
 
 PI 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 The happiest young man in Chicago that night was 
 Tom Howard. Richar' ' "ced in the prospect for 
 
 him. His book wao making good p»ugreso; the first 
 chapter would appear in a few days, and he had nearly 
 completed the remaining chapters by an astonishing 
 amount of work. He was eager to know how his book 
 would take with the public, and talked it over with Tom 
 late in the night. 
 
 The next day was Saturday, and Richard and Tom 
 were out for a little stroll together in the afternoon. The 
 day was damp and foggy, and the city lay wrapt in mist; 
 the pavements were slippery, and few pedestrians were 
 abroad. The city seemed still to lie under that powerful 
 presence of God, which had marked it for several weeks 
 past. Tom and Richard were discussing John Ki.:^ 3 new 
 religious daily and wondering what would be the out- 
 come of the enterprise. Suddenly from down the street 
 the cry of the newsboys was heard as they came pouring 
 out of the offices with the evening editions of the papers. 
 The two friends were walking on dowi! oward the .,ews- 
 paper block. 
 
 " Hark I" cried Tom, laying his hand on Richard's 
 arm. " What are they sr ing about John King ?" 
 
 The both _epped ai caught t!;e words : "Startling 
 news! John King"— Then folloved, in the newsboys* 
 prolonged shrill cry, an unintelligible statement which 
 neilher "..tn nor Richard ould make out. They hurried 
 along, and just then a newsboy darted acrofs fro;ni the 
 other side of the street, crying; : 
 
 " Daily Universe ! All about the famous p'-eacher, 
 John King ! Univ^ sir " 
 
 "Here'" cried T , r ously, "give . one!" 
 
 He gave the boy lick. and, not think) ng anything 
 about the change, ran his eyes down the hea nes of the 
 first column on the front page of the paper. Richard 
 looked over his shoulder, and the two friends turned pnk 
 and their breathing came quickly as they read what was 
 printed there. 
 
 TH£ PROPERTY OF 
 
 SCARBJRO 
 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I 
 
 He that hath t^e Son hath the life.— Saint John. 
 
 This is what Tom and Richard read in the first column 
 of The Universe : 
 
 " Startling revelations I John King, the preacher, mis- 
 appropriates trust funds! A clear case of dishonesty! 
 The reverend hypocrite unmasked! Some interesting de- 
 tails. A sensational scene with the former leader of the 
 strikers, Mr. Tower! Reliable witness to the interview!" 
 
 All these sentences were ir the boldest headline type. 
 Then followed for two columns charges against Mr. King 
 on the part of a well-known citizen of Chicago. The 
 charges, in brief, were these: That during the strike, Mr. 
 King, in company with the gentleman who had made the 
 charges against him, had been entrusted with certain 
 funis contributed by sympathizers with the s! 'kers for 
 their families. Mr. Burns, the gentleman who accused 
 Mr. King, presented documents at'd papers going to 
 show that large sums entrusted to Mr. King had never 
 been accounted for, and, more than tha show ;:(r that 
 they had been diverted from the purpose tor w ■ h they 
 were designed, in order to further the personal i>ians of 
 the reverend gentleman's ambition in starting a religious 
 daily in the city. The charges were direct and seemed 
 to be very well supported by the .1 :user. One item in 
 the account was evidently written by another person. It 
 was as follows : 
 
 " In corroboration of the above we are in possession 
 of valuable information concerning a sensational inter- 
 view whicV oc irred between Mr. Kinjy and Mr Tower 
 on Sunday night last. At that interview Mr. Tower met 
 
 .'. 
 
 yi 
 
i66 
 
 :|IICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 n 
 
 Hi 
 
 . I 
 
 and accused the preacher of dishonesty in the matter of 
 the strikers' funds, and Mr. King did not deny it. He 
 even received a blow in the face from Mr. Tower, and did 
 not return it. But the difficulty was settled in some man- 
 ner, and Mr. Tower not only accompanied the preacher 
 to his residence on Plain Street, but received an invita- 
 tion to come and see him the following night, which he 
 accepted. It is apparent that some compromise was 
 effected between the two, whereby Tower is bribed to 
 silence. Mr. Burns' statements challenge investigation." 
 
 Tom was the first to speak after reading the headlines. 
 
 "It's a lie! I don't believe a word of it! John King 
 could no more dq such a thing than God! could he, 
 Dick ?" 
 
 Richard was indignant and astonished. " Of course 
 not. I don't believe it any more than I would believe 
 my mother could lie or steal. But it is a terrible thing 
 to happen to a man, to have such charges brought against 
 him in a daily paper." 
 
 "It won't hurt John King; people won't believe it!" 
 cried Tom. The two were walking along again towards 
 their room. Tom quivered with excitement and anger. 
 
 " I don't believe it will hurt him with people who 
 really know him," replied Richard thoughtfully. " But 
 such things always hurt, for a while at least. John King 
 has his enemies among the liquor men and gamblers ; 
 and among a certain large number of exceedingly rich 
 men in Chicago, he has been so very plain and outspoken 
 against them ; and they will be only too glad to see these 
 public charges against him." 
 
 " Yes," said Tom hotly; " I'd be willing to wager 
 that the whole thing is a conspiracy on the part of Burns 
 and others. Mr. Case may believe it's all true. I hate 
 to think that he would purposely or knowingly deceive 
 in a matter if this kind, in spite of his occasional longing 
 for something sensational ; he's too shrewd to do that. I'd 
 like to see Mr. King this minute vouldn't you, Dick ? 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 167 
 
 If it wasn't Saturday night, I'd go around and tell him 
 hoW much faith I have in him." 
 
 Richard did not reply. He felt much disturbed by 
 the news; he had the most unquestioning faith in Kin^. 
 but he knew the ordeal that such a public accusation 
 would bring to the high-minded, sensitive preacher, and 
 he shrunk with him from the vulgar dragging of his 
 character into the dirt of the sensation-loving public. 
 
 "Tom, it's a cruel world, this world of the life that 
 now is. Do you know, more than half of those so-called 
 ' charges ' against King are surmises, conjectures, infer- 
 ences ? There is very little proved even to the casual 
 reader; but the great majority of people who take The 
 Universe will simply gather from the headlines that John 
 Kmg IS guilty, and they will say, 'Another preacher 
 fallen. Well, religion is all hypocrisy!' Tom, is it fair 
 for so powerful an organ as the daily press to try and 
 condemn and hang a man before he has had a chance to 
 utter a single word in defense ? Is that the office of the 
 newspaper in this age ?" 
 
 " Seems to be," replied Tom as they reached the room 
 and went in; "and it's a question whether the paper or 
 the public is the more to blame for such a state of things 
 If people were not so eager to read sensations and de- 
 mand them, the papers might not make such efforts to 
 meet the demand. There's room for an immense reform 
 among the papers and— the public. How can Mr. King 
 preach to-morrow ? Of course this story will be all over 
 town m a few hours; and there will be a great crowd 
 again at the church or in the park to hear him." 
 
 "He is to preach in the church, I understand," said 
 Kichard. ' The wn weather this week has made the out- 
 door meetings impossible." 
 
 "We must go, of course. Do you think he will say 
 anything of the charges ?" 
 
 " It doesn't seem to me that he will. It would not be 
 
 JU.1t like nitn T?!'* ••— 1 «- - •'• t - • 1- 
 
 j .... _ ..ji... ni,, „.^ n:iu-.v lie Will clear nimself at the 
 nght time and place, don't we, Tom ?" 
 
\6S 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 V)' •li-'-.T 
 
 " Why, Dick, if I didn't believe it, I should lose my 
 faith in God and my own conversion and everything. If 
 John King is a hypocrite, then we cannot trust anybody. 
 The devil is at the bottom of this somewhere, you can be 
 sure of that." 
 
 When Sunday night came, the crowd in front of John 
 King's church was like a mob in its eagerness to get 
 inside the building. A cold rain was falling and it had 
 been storming all day; but it had no effect in keeping 
 the people at home. The news of John King's fall had 
 electrified all the readers of the Sunday papers, and the 
 feeling that he might say something on the subject drew 
 out an immense cfowd even for a time when, owing to the 
 revival, great crowds were becoming common. John 
 King's morning service was always a service of song and 
 worship without any preaching; but in the evening 
 people always looked for a week's energy and power to 
 be poured out in some form. The crowd surged in as 
 soon as the doors of the great building were opened. 
 There was the same intense feeling as on the night when 
 the revival began. This time there was more pent-up pas- 
 sion. John King's church membership was on fire for 
 him. Not one person in it believed a word of the charges 
 against him; not one but would have staked his own 
 reputation on the honesty and Christlikeness of the pas- 
 tor. It was worth a lifetime to a man to have such a 
 feeling from such a body of men and women. But there 
 were many present who had read the newspaper account 
 and believed in it, and they had come out of curiosity 
 to hear the preacher deny the charges. They were dis- 
 appointed. John King walked out before the immense 
 congregation, and in his simple, quiet manner opened the 
 service. He bore no marks of agitation. His face was 
 serene and strong, and as his eye swept the audience, it 
 was with the same comprehensive, loving look always 
 there when he faced peoplo. The revival was at its height 
 in the city; but thousands of pcfscfis were, of course, 
 still untouched by the movement. John King's church 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 169 
 
 was anxious. It feared that the scandal just out against 
 the great preacher would put an end to the entire re- 
 ligious awakening. If he had any such fear, he did not 
 show It. His prayer was thrilling in its intensity and 
 desire for a large outpouring of the Spirit. The people 
 were caught up by it into a spiritual realm almost painful 
 m Its sublimity. A simple but familiar hymn was sung, 
 and^ t:.en the preacher gave out his text : 
 " He that hath the Son hath the life." 
 After speaking of the fact that God's power was still 
 with the city, but that many persons were still untouched 
 by the Spirit, John King went on to say : 
 
 "I do not know of any way in which we can find 
 out the truth about such a statement as this of John's 
 except by finding out who and what Christ was. The 
 statement is plain and unmistakable : ' He that hath the 
 Son hath the life.' This is the same as saying, the prin- 
 ciple of true life has been discovered, and it is not in 
 philosophy, it is «ot in scientific discoveries, it is not in 
 moral precepts, it is not in anything except the Son of 
 God. ' He that hath the Son hath the life, and he that 
 hath not the Son of God hath not the life.' 
 
 " I am going to study this Son of God. I am begin- 
 ning to be interested in Him. I am intensely so; for if 
 this statement is true, I am either in the possession of 
 eternal life or I am not. I find, then, that this Person 
 was in very many things unlike any other person; I find 
 He made claims never before made by mortal man; I 
 find he lived as never man lived, and spake as never man 
 spake. All that reassures me. If I am really approaching 
 the mysterious principle of life, I am glad to find in the 
 Person who claims it nothing to make me distrust His 
 authority as far as character is concerned. I then go 
 farther; I test Him : I find that the persons in all ages 
 who have been most Christlike, who have had the most 
 of Him in thought and action, have been persons who 
 
 ..„., ,.,^;„, ^^ uuu 01 any people llie world ever 
 
 saw, and believed most peacefully in a world to come, and 
 
1 i 
 
 f 
 
 ai 
 
 '. I. 
 
 i 
 
 If < 
 
 170 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 died most hopefully in the trust in a glorious resurrec- 
 tion. I then apply this test to myself. I let this Christ 
 govern my own actions. I set up a throne in my own 
 soul, and say to him, ' Rule Thou there.' And the result 
 is a new life in me. Capable of proof ? Indeed it is. 
 Can I not tell the difference between the old man and the 
 new ? Am I a fool on the spiritual side when all my 
 senses are good on the mental and intellectual ? Now,- 
 in all this what have I done ? Have I not planted the 
 Christ in my being, and have not the fruits of that plant- 
 ing proved that in Him is the life ? Cannot the world 
 test Christ as it tests a seed ? Has it not done so again 
 and again ? Has He made a false claim when He lias 
 said, ' I am the life ?' Has John told a lie or an impos- 
 sibility when he says, ' He that hath the Son hath the 
 life ?' Is not our Lord willing that men should believe 
 by thrusting their hands into His side ? ' Oh, taste and 
 see that the Lord is goodl' 'Try mel prove me!' says 
 the Divine. 
 
 " ' Ye will not come to me, that ye may have life,' 
 says Christ. There is a great deal more in this statement 
 than we are willing to acknowledge. But Christianity 
 to me is not mysticism. It is not shadowy with spiritual 
 truths; it is resplendent with them; and these spiritual 
 truths are as capable of proof as anything in chemistry 
 or science. Can I tell if there is life in nie — eternal life ? 
 Why, is it not stated solemnly over and over again, by 
 the sinless One, that we have eternal life in Him ? And 
 shall a tide set in like that and we not know it as it rises 
 in us from that coastless ocean of eternity which we shall 
 sometime sail over, and which with its resistless inflowing 
 buries out of sight proud, dry bowlders that stood on the 
 barren beach of our contented morality, and sweeps on 
 and in until every nook and inlet is filled full by the pres- 
 sure that speaks of the divine hand back of it ? Shall all 
 this be a matter of conjecture to us ? Shall it not be, 
 is it not, the most tremendous fact of facts, the truth of 
 
 a11 fMt.frVia fliA e/^i<^n/*A rkf cr\tril tiollf v TvTlir^fi ia nf\i- /^nn- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 171 
 
 tented, any more than the science of physical matter, with 
 shadowy possibilities ? We have not tested our spirit- 
 uaHty. We have not really planted the Christ in us. We 
 have dissected and analyzed and defined and illustrated, 
 but we have not planted and tested. If Christ is not the 
 life of the world, cannot the world discover by trying ? 
 Shall a statement so great as this be made about a Person 
 so well known as Jesus, and be incapable of demonstra- 
 tion ? I say there is life in a seed. I plant it. I prove 
 it. I say there is life m Jesus Christ. I plant Him in the 
 bemg and I prove it. The world is planting a piece of 
 the husk or a piece of the kernel; but let it plant the 
 germ of the seed, not simply that which nourishes or 
 surrounds the germ. Shall men attain eternal life by a 
 trust in moral precepts, intellectual energy, inventive, 
 research, mental activity ? All these things are splendid. 
 They will accompany the true life. They are in one sense 
 a part of it. But they are not the life. The life is in the 
 Son of God, and the only way to find that out is to try 
 Him for yourselves. A skeptic once said to me, ' I will 
 never believe in Christianity until I am myself converted. 
 Then I cannot help believing.' Do you suppose Paul 
 questioned the reality of his new life after meeting the 
 Christ on the road to Damascus ? Why, it was the reality 
 of realities to him! So that he said with a burst of tri- 
 umphant certainty, 'That life which I now live 
 I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God.' 
 
 "I wonder if there is any body here to-night who 
 does not want eternal life. Are we so dead sick of the 
 whole scheme of existence that we don't care whether 
 It goes on or not > I meet people sometimes who talk 
 that way. But I can hardly believe them. Life is a divine 
 thmg. To be careless of it, ignorant about it, is to miss 
 the one end of all true living altogether. If Jesus Christ 
 IS the life of the world, I want it. I don't want any cheap 
 imitation. I want the real thing. Think of it, my brother 
 my sister! Eternal life! It begins here. It goes on here- 
 
 after. And what a tiArf>'iffA^r xt ?_ 
 
 ,.,. , i,^^ luuic trying or trouOi^; 
 
Wf^mmmmm 
 
 172 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 no more weakness or criticism; no more wickedness or 
 selfishness or contempt of goodness on the part of men, 
 to drive our souls into despair for all tender and true 
 things; no more battling with ourselves as passion rises 
 over peace and threatens to drown the very soul — but a 
 life that ^hall awake to sweetness and light and power, 
 undimmed and undisturbed. It has the germ of Jesus 
 Christ in it. It will surely grow. I feel like a god here 
 sometimes. Give me all heaven to expand in, and aa 
 eternity to grow in, and what a life I can live! This eter- 
 nal life is possible for all of us. It is not true — if any one 
 here has not the Son of God, he may have Him ? 'He 
 that will, let him take the water of life freely.' It won't 
 cost you anything but the acceptance of it. Confront 
 your soul with thfe Life of the world. Ask yourself if you 
 have this life in you. Who am I or any other preacher 
 of the Gospel of the Son of God, to emphasize more than 
 is necessary or right any statement that has so much that 
 is amazing as this statement by the man John ? But 
 putting it with everything else we know to be true of this 
 Being called our Saviour, remembering His own great 
 yearning compassion for the souls of men, calling to 
 mind the meaning of the words saved and lost, I ask my- 
 self. Can any earthly preacher emphasize too much the 
 eternal life, or warn and urge and beseech men to take 
 the eternal life into their own ? If this were my last mes- 
 sage, if to-day I knew to-morrow's light would break 
 upon my soul in Paradise, and all of earth should be no 
 more than a memory — I could not rest contented until I 
 knew some one of you had given his heart to the Life of 
 the world. And if I knew that this entire audience had 
 accepted this Son of God, what a message I could bear, 
 up to the throne of His undying interest in humanity! 
 The most exultant song I ever sang would be tht song of 
 victory for the souls redeemed here this evening. ' Now 
 is the acceptable time . . . now is the day of salva- 
 tion. To-day if ye will hear His voice harden not your 
 The Christ has knocked a long time, has called 
 
 1 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 173 
 
 for years. He stretches out His bleeding hands continu- 
 ally. The Spirit prays with groanings that cannot be 
 uttered. ' My son, give Me thine heart!' The love that 
 passes that of man or woman calls for its children. Des- 
 pise Him not! grieve not the Spirit; but with eternal 
 life possible, oh, do not make it impossible by your own 
 act! Can God do any more ? Has He not given His 
 only Son ? Can the Son do any more ? Has He not 
 given the Comforter ? ' Ye must be born again,' says 
 the Master. What! thou proud soul of humanity! Wilt 
 thou lose the one great end of existence ? No, no! I 
 will gain it. Eternal life is in my possession! All hell 
 shall not rob me of it, I will say to that divine Suflferer 
 who has been cruelly nailed to the cross by my scorn and 
 denial, 'Son of God, forgive me! I will love Thee! I 
 will serve Thee! I will make Thee mine. In Thy king- 
 dom in heaven give me the humblest place, and I will 
 spend eternity in learning what I missed on earth ; for. 
 Thou only art eternal life, for Thou only art eternal 
 love!' • He that hath the Son hath the life.' Who will 
 say to-night, 'As for me, I will have this eternal life— I 
 will live the life of Christ'?" 
 
 John King paused, while over the audience went that 
 sharp, still sound of many people catching their breath 
 after a period of the most absorbing listening. But no 
 one stirred, no one spoke, and the silence seemed ominous 
 of failure. Never before during the revival had John King 
 preached without several persons' witnessing to the power 
 of the Spirit of God. And now the silence after this im- 
 passioned appeal seemed to betoken a loss of his power. 
 Had the people then lost confidence in him as the am- 
 bassador of Christ ? Did they refuse to listen to him 
 because tV.ey doubted his honesty and believed the reports 
 thr,i liai;? been flung like firebrands all over the city ? He 
 bov cd :i?s head upon his desk in silent prayer. What the 
 con!!. T In his soul was no one ever knew. But even as 
 he had raised his liead to speak again a man arose near 
 .he front of the platform and advanced to the foot of the 
 
•.««»! 
 
 174 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Stairs, King recognized Tower. Accustomed to remark- 
 able scenes in that church, the preacher beckoned to his 
 old enemy as he hesitated at the foot of the platform. 
 
 " Come up here, my brother, and may God help you 
 to do what is in your heart." As quick as a flash King 
 had perceived that the miracle of the whole revival had 
 actually occurred, and Adam Tower was under the influ- 
 ence of the Spirit. Tower himself mounted the platform 
 as one who feels himself in the hands of tha Almighty. 
 He was transformed in appearance. He faced t' e people, 
 who were electrified by the event, and stretched out his 
 arm with a simple gesture of appeal. He was not won- 
 derfully excited. He was rather quietly thrilled by what 
 had happened to him. 
 
 "You know me, men and women of Chicago," he 
 began, slowly increasing in volume and feeling as he went 
 on. " I am Adam Tower, and a week ago I considered 
 this man here my bitterest enemy, and such meetings as 
 these a superstitious frenzy. To-night I stand here and 
 boldly and calmly and gladly say that Jesus Christ is my 
 Master and my Saviour, and I confess Him before men as 
 the one Being of all beings in the world. I have been a 
 very proud man. I have been passionate, skeptical, scorn- 
 ful, a disbeliever in the Church and the Bible. I now and 
 here wish to bow myself before my Master and ask Him 
 to accept of me as a little child. If any one had told me 
 a week ago that I should stand here and say this, I would 
 have laughed at him as an insane man. But I stand here 
 to-night proud to claim Jesus Christ as the One of all the 
 world to my soul, and I owe the leading of my heart to 
 this brother of mine here." Tower turned to King, and 
 still spoke to the vast throng, hanging breathless on every 
 word. " Behold him, men, the man who is at this mo- 
 ment suffering from one of the most outrageous charges 
 ever brought against an innocent man. It is true, as The 
 Daily Universe has said, that I m.et this man a week ago. 
 It is true that I struck him in the face, and that he did 
 Bui it is not true that dishonesty in 
 
 
 U1 
 
 SJIUW, 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 173 
 
 regard to trust funds had anything to do with that inter- 
 view or the subsequent one at his house. When the time 
 comes, I have the most unquestioning faith that John 
 Kmg will completely disprove this unholy attempt tc 
 ruin his fair name, for he bears the Spirit of Christ. The 
 scar on his face speaks to-day of the Christlike mind He 
 endured at my hand what not one other man in this city 
 might have borne, when I smote him in my selfish rage 
 as my enemy." (Tower here rapidly and passionately 
 sketched the scene of a week ago, and then went on, while 
 the audience quivered under his words as if under the 
 influence of an irresistible pressure.) ",\nd all this is 
 true, my brethren, as the Spirit of God. Behold in me 
 a miracle of His great power in this movement. Ye have 
 heard the truth proclaimed here to-night; but your 
 hearts have been cold to it because so many of you 
 doubted the messenger, even though he spoke with his 
 heart aflame, forgetting his great injury in his eagerness 
 for souis. But he is a true man. The Spirit cannot abide 
 in a he ; and the Spirit through him has touched me I 
 beseech of you, do not grieve that blessed power ' He 
 that hath not the Son of God hath not the life.' Oh I 
 am anxious for you to-night! Come to Him. Beg His 
 forgiveness. Think how mighty He is. Praise be to His 
 great name, I now live! For all these years I have not 
 known what life was. Now I begin to feel it in very deed 
 Great God! how wonderful Thou art! Reveal Thyself 
 to this people even as Thou hast to me, and let Thy Spirit 
 again shake men's hearts and prove to them that still 
 the world is Thine, and all Thy creatures are capable of 
 glonfying Thee! 'He that hath the Son hath the life' 
 Who will come unto Him and live forever ?" 
 
 Never in all the history of the city had an event oc- 
 curred more thrilling and convincing than the conversion 
 of Adam Tower. Men say it is impossible that such a 
 nature should yield thus suddenly to a complete change 
 
 of life. Let no man sav "imnnecJh!-" ^( n^j» 
 
 ihe people bowed themselves before it as before an irre- 
 
mmm 
 
 176 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 sistible wind from heaven. Scarcely had Tower finished 
 when groups of men rose and confessed Christ; and the 
 entire revival burst out with renewed power. The whole 
 city was shaken; not a person in the audience had any 
 longer a doubt concerning the preacher. The confidence 
 that he could effectually answer the charges against him 
 was plainly restored by the recital of Tower. The meeting 
 continued for three hours. The scene between King and 
 Tower as they clasped hands upon the platform will never 
 be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Tower kneeled 
 down like a child and said to King, " Pray with me," 
 and then as the two rose they went down to the audience 
 and until midnight worked as men work only for souls. 
 
 Monday night found Tower in John King's study. 
 The proud man was, indeed, completely changed; no- 
 thing was more noticeable than his humility. 
 
 " Mr. King, I had planned to come here to-night and 
 beat you in argument over political and money questions, 
 but they do not seem so important as they once did; I 
 would much rather have you teach me about Christianity 
 and the principles of the Christian life. 
 
 " Brother," replied King with a smile, " it may be that 
 your work now will be political. What if God should 
 make plain to you that your talents could be used in the 
 public career ?" 
 
 Tower sat a moment thoughfully. At last he said, 
 "I have been very ambitious; there was a time when 
 I expected to control this entire city politically. Power 
 has been my god;, I wish to be a servant now; I am 
 fearful of that old life of greed for place." 
 
 " But we need the best men in public life. Could you 
 not say in your new life, 'As for me, I will let my Master 
 use me for my country's good; I will be a Christian 
 patriot'?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Tower slowly; "I could say that, but 
 my struggle would be a continual one to battle against 
 that temptation for power." 
 
 " ■ If any man is in Christ, he is a new creature.' " 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 177 
 
 King quoted the words in such a way that the man op- 
 posite started. 
 
 "Ah, Mr Kiiig, I am a new creature; you need not 
 doubt that; but I have much to learn yet, and truly I 
 am ready to be led into the most useful service. If it is 
 made plam to me that I am most needed in the political 
 life of this country, I will throw myself into it heart and 
 soul. The only trouble is that what once seemed to me 
 of most importance is now secondary and subordinate. 
 It seemed to me a week ago that the money question was 
 ihe one great question for the people; and I would have 
 contended with all my might for certain political beliefs 
 as essential to the happiness of the people. To-night it 
 seems very clear to me that what this nation needs is 
 righteousness and unselfishness more than money or acts 
 of legislation concerning the tariff." 
 
 "And meanwhile, my brother, what is your attitude 
 on political questions .? Is your political creed gone ?" 
 No, Mr. King; but I love my country now; and 
 before, it was Adam Tower and his schemes and his 
 power that I loved. Is not that true of nearly every 
 politician ? Is it not defense of certain legislation for 
 selfish or private interests ? No; I have a political creed 
 I believe in free trade, in nationalizing certain public 
 necessities and reducing the rate of interest en money. 
 But all these matters appear to me to rest upon a higher 
 law. That law is the law of service, the law of love If 
 IZZT'' ^1 *h'V<=°""try had ail the money he wanted, 
 and did not love God and serve Him, there would be no 
 more happiness than there is now under the present 
 political conditions." present 
 
 "JL?T^"'' '^''^ 1°^" ^'"«^' "^'"8: to pace the room, 
 you have struck the keynote of the whole problem. 
 Ihere ,s a false and popular impression abroad that if we 
 had more money and more freedom from certain legis- 
 lative restrictions we would be a happy people. It would 
 not necessarily follow. The h»nn,Vc/.l.u :. 1^ T 
 t the people with the most money; they are the 
 
 are 
 
178 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 people with the most love to God and ma u I do not 
 believe this country will ever pass any laws regulating 
 the quantity or the kind of money that will affect the 
 happiness or prosperity of the people unless the people's 
 hearts are right. Money alone cannot make men aappy; 
 righteousness can. I believe there are public evils in this 
 nation to be fought; I believe there are selfish trusts and 
 combinations of men which ought to be legislated against, 
 and I have given time and action to some of these meas- 
 ures; but this great religious awakening through which 
 we are now passing has taught me a great lesson. I 
 knew it before, but this movement has empha ized it. 
 What this city really needed was new men, not new. meas- 
 ures. The revival has brought about what centuries of 
 legislation could npt produce — a state of society where 
 men are willing and eager to bear one another's burdens ; 
 wlicf!; rich men are asking themselves. How can we best 
 Uiift car wealth for the cause of humanity ? where ^he 
 laborer and the banker meet to discuss in a spirit of 
 Chrijiian love the most effective measures for making 
 society more happy. How could such a state of things 
 have been possible, my friend, under the f rmer condi- 
 tions, when the great forces of capital and labor were 
 ranged as enemies ? Is not the real problem which faces 
 the people to-day a problem of regeneration, and not a 
 problem of the tariff or money r" 
 
 " Yes, I believe it is," replied Tower ; "two days ago 
 I didn't. I do now. I regarded the preacher as a senti- 
 mental or cowardly enthusiast. He seems to me now to 
 be the real statesman of the age, because he is endeav- 
 oring to make men new men ; then they may be trusted 
 to enact such law:; and live such lives as shall bless the 
 world. Only I feel eager to have a true Christianity 
 preached ; a Christianity that cares for the bodies and the 
 health and the daily wages of men, not a Christianity 
 that is afraid to touch the hard questions of daily life, of 
 the life that now is, and simply contents itself with the 
 treatment of the Hfs that ss to come " 
 
 ip 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 179 
 
 " I am ia sympathy with that feeling. Let the legis- 
 lative enactment go hand-in-hand with the human 
 regeneration ; and it necessarily will if the regeneration 
 •be the real life of the San of God. Has it not been 
 illustrated many times during t' is " 'ious movement? 
 Do you call to mind the ordinun ised by our city 
 
 council of late ? Three fourths o city council have 
 
 become Christians. The result is s^ u m their public acts, 
 which have already wonderfully benefited the munici- 
 pality. Thank God for this power ! It is far greater 
 than man's." 
 
 " It is past finding out," said Tower ; " I bow before 
 it. I feel like a child. I have never understood the 
 meaning of life in this sense ; I pray God to spare me 
 long enough to atone for my defiance of Him. I want to 
 be a servant in His hands, to do His bidding." 
 
 " He will use you, brother, never fear. You may do 
 much in ways that now you do not know. The happiest 
 years of your life are before you, Adam Tower." John 
 King said the words with strong feeling, and the two 
 men, more alike in feature and bearing than ever, since 
 Tower's change, stood facing each other with a glow of 
 emotion which gave to their thoughts something of the 
 divine Presence. 
 
 The weeks that followed proved Adam Tower's sin- 
 cerity and complete change of life. With the energy 
 and promptness characteristic of him he set about doing 
 the work nearest at hand. Under King's direction he 
 went to work in some quarters of. the city where the need 
 seemed greatest. He addressed large bodies of work- 
 ingmen in different halls, and was a marvellous power as 
 a speaker, urging men to accept the new life. Hundreds 
 who came out of curiosity to see the man were made to 
 see the Son of man in His beauty. But still Tower felt 
 that his work was not that of a preacher ; he was waiting 
 and working, ready to take up some special labor for 
 which he was best fitted, and throw the whole influence 
 — ...^ ..VTT oa.aiv mtu lu xiic uay came wneti uic work 
 
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 ^^' 
 
 
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 C< 
 
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i8o 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 was revealed to him, and he found in it scope for much 
 oent-up energy and desire. 
 
 Meanwhile John King had met the charges against 
 him as published in The Universe by a complete disprov- 
 ing of them in every particular. The letters of the man 
 Burns were proved to be a forgery, and Mr. Case, to his 
 deep humiliation, acknowledged the same publicly in his 
 paper. In justice to him it must be said he had received 
 the letters of Mr. Burns as genuine. It had seemed to 
 nim like a legitimate sensation for his paper. Under the 
 conviction that John King was actually guilty he had 
 published the charges. Events, however, clearly proved to 
 the public that the charges were entirely false, and John 
 King was able by. means of documentary and personal 
 evidence to account for every cent of money which had 
 passed through his hands. His victory was complete. 
 The public was reassured in regard to him, and Tom and 
 Richard, who watched the papers that week with the great- 
 est eagerness, rejoiced together when Mr. Case's letter 
 appeared in The Universe, reluctantly but completely 
 acknowledging the charges to be false in every particular. 
 
 " Oh I " cried Tom with exultation. " I knew he was 
 innocent. There ought to be a torchlight procession or 
 something to celebrate. Or how would it do to get the 
 church to give him a donation ?" 
 
 " Might make it a pound party," suggested Richard. 
 
 " Afraid that wouldn't do," replied Tom. " You see, 
 there are twenty-five hundred members, and just think 
 if they should all think of bringing the same thing I I 
 heard of a church in New England that gave its minister 
 a pound party and more than forty persons brought pint 
 bottles of arnica. Just think of it ! Forty bottles of 
 arnica I I suppose each person thought, ' Now how nice 
 it will be for the minister when he sprains his neck put- 
 ting up the fall stovepipe to just reach inside his closet 
 and feel a nice pint bottle of arnica right handy I Why, it 
 would take more than one sprain or injury every day for 
 years to use up that many bottles ! unless the minister's 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 iSz 
 
 wife usad them for extract when she ran out of vanilla 
 or lemon." 
 
 " Tom, you are making all that up," laughed Richard. 
 
 " Of course not. It's an historical fact," retorted Tom 
 soberly. " But come, Dick. Let's run out and see John 
 King. I am sure he will not begrudge us just a minute 
 to say how glad we are." 
 
 Richard dropped his pen and the two went out and 
 took a brisk walk up to Plain Street. It was morning 
 and John King was in. He greeted them from the top of 
 the stairs near the door of his study. 
 
 " Ah, youngsters, come up ! come up ! What is the 
 news, and why look ye so exuberant ?" 
 
 " Why ?" said Tom, bounding up the stairs two at 
 a time. " Because you have won your case." 
 
 " What case ?" inquired King good-naturedly. 
 
 " The case of The Daily Universe," replied Tom with 
 effrontery. 
 
 Mr. King laughed. " Tom," he said, " I will forgive 
 that wretched pun this time, but as the college professor 
 said to the young man who excused himself from lectures 
 because his great-grandfather was dead, ' Don't ever let 
 it happen again.' Come in. I want to talk with you a 
 minute about the daily." 
 
 Tom and Richard were delighted ; it was such a 
 treat to get John King all by himself. Tom once said 
 it was a liberal education just to look at him. 
 
 "Now then," began the preacher, "the past is past 
 and we cannot live it over again. We are living in the 
 life that now is, and that for us is the present. Very 
 good. I appreciate your congratulations over the matter 
 of the charges against me and the outcome of them, but 
 life is too valuable to talk it over. You knew I was 
 innocent, and I did of course, so I couldn't worry. Let 
 the dead past bury its dead, and so no more of that." 
 King glanced at Tom with a twinkle of the eye that 
 convsycu a wnOie world of happy good health and good 
 
l82 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 conscience and two hemispheres of bubbling vitality, and 
 continued : — 
 
 "The details for starting the religious daily are 
 nearly completed. You are appointed by the directors as 
 the first reporter.' King nodded at Tom. who took the 
 news quietly enough, but felt as if he would like to break 
 something to express his deep satisfaction. "We have 
 received much encouragement," King went on to say, 
 "although old newspaper men have little faith in the 
 experiment" 
 
 " What is to be the name of the paper ? ' asked 
 Richard. 
 
 " We have not , decided. What would you suggest ? 
 You are an author and ought to give us some ideas." 
 
 "I'm a very poor hand at names. The fact is," con- 
 fessed Richard, " I have hard work to get suitable names 
 for my characters. I should think the paper might be 
 called ' The Religious Age,' or ' The Spiritual Kingdom,' 
 or something of that kind." 
 
 " Why, Dick 1 " interrupted Tom, " either of those 
 names would kill the paper deader than Pharoah. We 
 want something suggestive, like 'The New Humanity,' 
 or 'God and Man,' or 'Heaven and Earth.' A good 
 deal will depend on the name." 
 
 That's true," replied King cheerfully. " Put your 
 wits together, you two, and hand in appropriate names 
 to-morrow or next day. How comes on ihe book ?" 
 
 " The first chapter is out ir The Monthly Visitor to- 
 morrow," answered Richard. 
 
 " Success to it ! You never can tell what will be the 
 reception of a story by the reading public. I remember 
 my first venture was passed by so completely that I 
 envied other writers who were being abused by the 
 reviewers. I speak a hearty interest in your story, 
 though. Bruce. It is something out of the regular line." 
 
 Richard colored up with pleasure. Any coamnenda- 
 
 :. *..,,jj t%i\rajs xzivaxxi BUixiciiuiig. XIC HCVCr COIIi- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 183 
 
 His criticism was always 
 
 plimented without meaning it. 
 honest. 
 
 The boys rose to go, and King waved them a cordial 
 farewell. " Come and see me any time ; if you can catch 
 me m you're welcome." And he turned to a mass of 
 correspondence that would have discouraged anybody 
 but a man with iron nerves and a faultless digestion. 
 
 "Tom," asked Richard as they walked back to the 
 room, " what are some of John King's faults ?" 
 
 Tom stared. " Why, I never thought that he had 
 any. Wb;t makes you ask ?" 
 
 " I have been curious to know if he did have his fail- 
 mgs like other men. Now, my besetting sin is pride, and 
 yours is" — 
 
 " Poverty and good nature I " cut in Tom. " And 
 John Rmg-s is-well-I don't know what it is ; do you, 
 Dick ?" ' ' 
 
 "No. And on that account he ought to be very 
 stupid, according to the popular impression. How does 
 he manage to keep so interesting ?" 
 
 "Has the true idea of life. I suppo-i. Goodness isn't 
 stupid, IS It, Dick, when it is well balanced ?" 
 
 It was this week that Tom closed his duties at the 
 night school, and invited Richard and Mr. King to be 
 present at the closing exercises the last evening. The 
 school had been especially interesting to Mr. King 
 owing to Its connection with certain phases of city work 
 set m motion by him, and he glaaly went along with the 
 young men and enjoyed the whole evening. He was like 
 a cnild in his frank sense of fun, and at Tom's urgent 
 [?r'l*Ku, ^i™*" ^^ addressed the school in a speech which 
 fairly bubbled ever with humor^and wisdom. And the 
 school closed Its spring term with many expressions of 
 
 lT.t V tT- '^°'" ^^' ^^"^ '•*="P»«"t of various 
 gifts from the scholars, among other things a pair of tame 
 white mice in an old cigar box. The boy who brought 
 them evidently had a struggle to part with them. Tom 
 «c« cmuarrassea to take them, but with true delicacy he 
 
i84 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 \m 
 
 appreciated the gift and accepted it heartily. " I haven't 
 the least idea what they eat," he said to Richard on the 
 way from the school; "but we'll try 'em on that cheese 
 we've been having so much at the boarding-house lately 
 and perhaps in that way we can effect a needed change in 
 the article. These mice may prove a blessing in disguise 
 yet, Dick." 
 
 On the way home an incident occurred that stamped 
 that night on the memories of the two young men and 
 affected the lives of many persons, especially one of Che 
 lives in this story. Mr. King and Tom were discussing 
 in an animated tone the prospects of the daily, and other 
 work being started in connection with it, when a low 
 rumbling was heard, sounding as if it came from the tene- 
 ment district about two blocks from where they stood. 
 The rumbling swelled into a roar, and then followed a 
 crash, and it seemed almost as if a concussion of the air 
 h<id forced a wave against their faces. They did not 
 know what had happened, but they stopped and turned 
 pale as if some horror had suddenly been revealed to 
 their gaze. There was something sickening in the noise, 
 as if lives were being crushed out of existence by it. In- 
 stinctively they turned and ran in the direction of the 
 sound. Doors and windows opened in the houses along 
 the the street and people asked, " What is the matter ?" 
 But t.ie crowd poured down the street and the sidewalk, 
 and when John King and Richard and Tom reached a 
 certain corner they stopped suddenly in blank horror at 
 the scene. A brick building which had faced the street 
 and looked upon a square opposite had fallen, carrying 
 with it in ruin nearly fifty women and children who had 
 been living in the house at the time. The scene was 
 terrble in its complete impression of death by the most 
 dreadful disaster ever known to that part of the city. 
 The confusion was maddening. The groans of those 
 who were injured and caught in the ruins mingled with 
 the cries of men v/ho stood dazed and frenzied by the 
 sight. The ruins almost immediately took fire. John 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 King was one of the first to recover his composure. 
 Under his direction men formed into some systematic 
 effort for puttmg out the flames and rescuing the 
 wounded until the city fire companies and other help 
 could arrive He worked like a r,ia„t. Tom forgot the 
 
 oM- /' ru'"** *°'' "^'^ ** '^"^ ^"^^' «"d tin'ber, 
 LuZ '" '.•"""""« *^°'^ ^'^° *«■•« iniprisoned. 
 Richard inspired many others by his courage and deter- 
 mination But the cruel fire gained on the brave fighters. 
 L. q"? "*^'".^^""8« to John King as he worked at 
 those Satanic rums to see Adam Tower working beside 
 him Tower had been holding a meeting in the neigh- 
 
 '"S '"„' '''^•*"" '^^^'^^^^ ^y '^^ noise of tt 
 me^ ^ ^\"'''?^'^ " *°^** *'th King and both 
 couM ^^*'""'^" " only such powerful natures 
 
 Suddenly from the highest part of the ruin rose a cry 
 so piteous and beseeching that all men paused from their 
 work a moment to listen. " For the sake of Jesus have 
 pTtT eh'Je? ":,! " ^'^ ^^'^^ ^^"* -* asif irs'ho^S 
 b^ee:e if bW?nT '" " °'" "'"'^^ "'"^ ^ ^*^^"* 
 Url^"" .*T°* the building was a horrible mixture of 
 
 hn? !! iTuT' ^"'^'' "'°''^'-' P'«"' of furniture, and 
 household belongings ; and wedged into this miscdlan 
 eous mass was the form of a woman, her face and one 
 hand plainly visible. The fire was creeping steadily up 
 
 Inii ; J'k "^. °"' °^ '^' ^"^^ ''""'« that impris 
 
 oned her and by its ghastly light Tom could see the 
 woman's face quite distinctly. 
 
 moZnJ A^'' r*''" ' " ^' «'^«^I«'"'"ed. At the same 
 Zr^'O gZ^ 7".?^'":' ' look of the woman's 
 iTr,.r •*? f °°'' ' '°°'* ' " ^« <^"^d. seizing John 
 
 King as If to steady himself from an unexpected shock 
 
 m s^aTd ma7 'J '^'''' ' '°""^ "^^ '-P^<» "P "P- tte 
 S :lr.?:.'L'! r^*°^«^^!..*^«.---- John King 
 
 ' . """ ""= «" axe r- •• Here is one I" some 
 
 one answered, thrusting it up. King seized it and sprang 
 
 '! 
 
% 
 
 x86 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 over the ruins after Tower, while even the brave workers 
 elsewhere paused a moment in their terrible interest in 
 the fate of the woman and her rescuers. Death seemed 
 to sit on the top of that terrible heap and mock the two 
 men, as silently and cautiously, lest they should precipi- 
 tate the ruin upon the victim and bury her beyond 
 recovery, they slowly crept towards her. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 187 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.- 
 oaint Paul. 
 
 The mass of timbers in that horrible ruin was like a 
 pile of jackstraws ; there the comparison ends. These 
 jackstraws were ragged beams of floor joists and twisted 
 rods of iron gas pipes and masses of splinters of every 
 description It was as if the devil had thrown this pile 
 
 fnZn?. *^" I'S^**^** 't "P *ith the flames of hell. And 
 indeed the building contractor, who, for the sake of the 
 money he could save, erected the death trap which was to 
 contain hundreds of human beings, was the human devil 
 who had made this horror possible. His soul is in the 
 hands of God or the day of judgment ; and those men 
 who say there .s no hell may tell us whether there is any 
 punishment for this human fiend who escapes the hands 
 of the law in this world. 
 
 brers'!' TJ"'" i'^'*f ^'"«^*= «°°^ *''"b«'- «"o« her 
 breast. The end of that timber was below somewhere 
 
 There was an iron rod bent around her left arm and 
 
 fastened by two other rods which lay almost at right 
 
 buf r;; °':.' % ^'"^ "'' "° -"^^^ °f '^-'^^^ -- ^ face 
 
 ness Adam Tower crept up to the beam which was 
 which he had taken off as he crept He rubbed it along 
 
 whicrh^V"' ZV^ ''.^ '"'' *° ^'P« °"* the flam! 
 
 K^cr c»n^i''"f/ ^1°"^ ' ''"'^'' ^"™'"» ""d^*- 't. John 
 King called out to h.m as he crept up after him. " I have 
 an axe. Is it safe to use it ?" 
 
 ♦ ▼ ^- 111 
 
 at u3c it I 
 
 anguish. " O my God f this 
 
 replied Tower 
 terrible 
 
 in 
 
 n 
 
 a voice of 
 
i88 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ', 
 
 King reached the spot where Tower was standing. 
 His swift glance took in all the danger. With u rapidity 
 such as men use only in rare crises where every faculty is 
 alert to the occasion, he lowered his body into an openng 
 in the debris and placed his right foot upon a beam of 
 wood. To his joy it appeared firm. He then succeeded 
 in reaching one hand out to raise the timber a little off 
 the prostrate from, and handing Tower the axe directed 
 him where to cut ; Tower seized the axe and did as 
 told. Every blow seemed to threaten to bring 
 the whole mass of broken material into the gap 
 where King stood. The flame from the burning 
 woQd below rushed up and scorched Tower, but 
 he stood grimly to his task while his hands were 
 horribly burned. At last the beam cracked. King 
 cautiously but powerfully pushed it up and it broke. 
 For a moment it seemed as if the reaction would precipi- 
 tate the entire ruin. It settled down and then stopped. 
 With an exercise of his strength such as he had never 
 thought possible, but for which he blessed God as he 
 used it, John King bent back the rods which lay across 
 the one that imprisoned the woman's left arm, and by 
 another supreme effort lifted her out of that living grave 
 to Tower, who bent down, scorched, blackened, and 
 bleeding, to receive her. As he did so. King felt the 
 ruin close in around him. 
 
 " Leave me, brother I " he cried to Tower. " Leave 
 me, or we shall all perish. I am not af-aid to die : it 
 is only going home. I shall meet you there soon." The 
 timbers closed in on his foot and leg and he felt that he 
 was caught. He refused to struggle, remembering even 
 in that terrible moment that one slight effort might be 
 the death of all of them. Tower, with the unconscious 
 body of his sister in his arms, gave a look at John King ; 
 it was the look of a brother. He said, " I shall be back 
 again." Cautiously he groped his way down with the 
 woman. Silently he placed her in the arms of eager ones 
 at the foot of the heap, and then without a word he crept 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 189 
 
 the ml° twb. '^''^ ""' "^' '^"^«P^''>J^ ""ling, but 
 
 King had lowered himsef Thf 1 '''' «'^ '"^° "'^''='^ 
 critical ; the very Z^L I ' ''°" ^" P'^'^"""'^ 
 rescue impossibl7 ThTh t '"T "^'^''^^ '■*"^" *he 
 
 braved death for the sake of h, ? ''''u° ^''^ "^^'"'^ 
 perish so horribly. *"' '*''" ''^^"'d himself 
 
 cautlu hyl\T^' J° ''? = " ^y "«ht foot and leg are 
 
 to rto'/e t buT It'hTstttred^r ^''' '^^ *"^ '°- 
 am being crushed by' . iTn'Z ZT ArK'""^ ' 
 that I have lived to see su h r^irac^es of Hi, *" "^"T' 
 city of mv hirtl, =«^ fu- "Piracies of H>s grace in th s 
 
 will l7„';"b„,; t: r;"", °' "" ""'■ " " '» «" 
 
 cniid s voice over there " "cara a 
 
 arrive; and in a shoS timl%. « ^^'"P^"'" began to 
 
 It was then that the fo^J?f a^ %' *"' ""^" *=°"t'-oI- 
 
 lying Pros^^rlJe of t eTop'ot h^I^^^^ ^" ^'^^°--<^' 
 smoke and heat Bmv! « '"' ^^'^''come by the 
 
 King was dis overedThere "m"- ^'■'"'''."'' *° ''•'"• 
 scious, and able to Ij \. ""P^son^d, but con- 
 
 «..«in. L""v:° .rLu';".rr:!..r-"°".' ^^^ 
 
190 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 ' 
 
 it 
 
 < 
 
 I I 
 
 r 
 
 building was still standing and threatened to fall over on 
 them. But by the exercise of great skill and courage, 
 King was finally taken out of that grave and carried 
 down. Tom and Richard had assisted the firemen in 
 the dangerous work, and they now took charge of the 
 preacher, who was severely injured and unable to walk. 
 Tower recovered and asked for his sister. She had been 
 carried into a neighboring house. He kneeled by her 
 side and the tears fell down on her face as he bent over 
 her. 
 
 " Mary, you know me ? I am your brother Adam." 
 The woman opened her eyes and smiled. 
 
 " Yes," she yhispered faintly ; " I know you, Adam. 
 Don't leave me now." 
 
 Adam Tower sobbed like a little child. " O my God, 
 how I have sinned, that all these years I should have 
 deserted this tender woman, through my passion, because 
 she married the man of her choice, and it angered me I 
 Mary, I have found God of late ; and I have sought to 
 know where you were that I might beg your forgiveness. 
 Can you forgive me now ? I will atone for it by all the 
 rest of life." 
 
 The woman replied by a gesture almost imperceptible. 
 She was in great agony ; but she smiled again as Adam 
 brushed back the hair from her face and bent over her 
 with all his great, strong, renewed manhood going out in 
 brotherly love for the crushed form lying there. 
 
 " It has been so long, dear, since any one did that I 
 Jim has been in the hospital a year. He fell and was 
 hurt ; and Con — my oldest boy, Adam— was killed a little 
 while ago, and the other two little ones have been a great 
 care to me ; and I have tried so hard to live I But the 
 work has made me so tired I oh, so tired I The men who 
 sell and buy cannot know, Adam the aprons we make 
 are a yard long and have to be hemmed across the bot- 
 tom and on both sides, and with the strings that makes 
 six long seams, and only fifteen cents a dozen for the 
 aprons ; and the express is fifteen cents each way for 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 '^^d. Adam ; and the children n^T ' '^''- ' ««^» »<> 
 
 ^resh air and the green fieM, "^ "^^ "^«^' ^nd the 
 
 I'nies I hear church b", Is rn."''" '° '*•• ^^^^r. Some! 
 
 can se, , 3^,,^^ ^^fl wonder rtV"" "^ ^•"^- 
 
 church wear my aprons at h ^^^ '^°'"«" 'n that 
 
 '>ors about how'ch«p he, bo'u^hr.'. ''" '° '"^"^ "-«h- 
 
 « bargain. I wonder if fhev * •""" "* '''^ "ores for 
 
 . -de and what ma^rs ttmToran""' '^^ ^''^^ "« 
 rter voice irrew al«,«-* • ,"""• 
 
 »he had fainted* He gTo neT"'^''? *"^ ^ower thought 
 "Pon his sister's. cHeT:; '\.^S ' ???. ''''^ ^«« «-V 
 You shall not have to work .n. ''"^ °^ '*' ^aryl 
 for you and the children^' '"^ '"°'*- ^ will work 
 
 But she seemed to be ^.v ■ 
 overcoats are sometimes made ^f "°"'- "T''« <^heap 
 knee pants for boys at si^ee! 1°'/°"^ ""^s apiece, and 
 he needles break very of^ „ " 'T ' ^°"" P>'"- But 
 » « loss. One day ? ^1^ °" ^^'^ "'« ^loth. and tha 
 happy, but then I was nl T""'^'''"' *=*="ts. I was 
 
 ^7d;andlgrewsicra„dt-nt :*h'' T' *"« <=''''<^- 
 Adam, they cannot knowltt Veon, ' ° u' ' ^"^ «° ^'''-d f 
 So many tired women ; Such sZ I "" ^"^ ^"** ^^"• 
 the aprons I " ' ^"*^" ^n^a" pnces for making 
 
 Again her voice died awav t 
 a heart torn with confJicS' IT' ^""^ '' her with 
 Chnst,an America I " his soul Tr If"'" "^"^ *his is 
 
 H's s,ster opened her eys and wl T ^'*'»" him. 
 more quietly :_ ^" ^"^ '^ol^ed at him. She spoke 
 
 y°" shall „e,er sew Lt f °^ ' .' """ "ork for you 
 Yes, I am tired. I ghalj 
 
 perhap 
 
 s. up there f " 
 
192 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 Mary looked up and smiled. " Kiss me, Adam. Take 
 care of the children. Fifteen cents a dozen for the aprons ! 
 It is not enough, is it, Adam ? " She had partly risen 
 as if remonstrating with some one else in the room. 
 Tlien she fell back. Adam bent over her. " So tired I " 
 she breathed, and death laid his cold hand on her worn- 
 out and mangled body, and her poor soul was at rest 
 at last. 
 
 O ye comfortably dressed and well-fed women in 
 Christian homes, what will ye say when the judgment 
 day reveals the secrets of this old earth and the hosts oi 
 sewing women, who have found hell instead of heaven 
 on earth, confroVit you and lay a part of this sin at your 
 careless doors ? O ye " sweaters," who live on the 
 hunger of children and the virtue of women, what reply 
 will ye make when the Judge of all the earth looks into 
 your souls in that realm where excuses and lying can 
 have no power ? O ye Christ an churches, that spend 
 vast sums in personal adornment and architecture and 
 artistic music, who is to blame for the murder of these 
 tender souls and the shame of those whose virtue is thus 
 sorely tempted in the terrible struggle for existence ? O 
 Christian America ! What shall history record concern- 
 ing this great crime against humanity ? The blood of 
 little children and of tender women is charged to your 
 greed for money and your selfishness in competition ! 
 And God will require a recompense at your hands ! 
 " God does not pay at the end of the week," well said 
 Anne of Austria, " but he pays." 
 
 Adam Tower kneeled by the dead body of his sister 
 that night and vowed a vow that he would devote the 
 rest of his life to the cause of the poor sewing-women of 
 America, and to the establishment of safe and comfort- 
 able homes for them. His grief was uncontrollable as he 
 looked at that wasted face of the sister who had once been 
 his pride for her beauty. Brother and sister each had a 
 strong-willed nature. When Mary declared her inten- 
 tion of marrying James Brand, a lineman in the empioy 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 ic ciiti/njjr 
 
 guardian of u ^^ cansidered himself the 
 
 as a wo.od carver Thev h.H ^'i" '"^P""" '' ^'^' *^*de 
 her very bluntly that U she .^ T^'^''^''- ^^^"^ told 
 
 be agafnst his wSf anf Lr'^^^^^ 
 
 brother's house ^'^i"' I^'UTte "1" ^^"^^ *° ''^^ 
 niarried the man of her choice H^ k fu " ''' ^^"^ 
 anger and his words bT-n\f *'1'.°*^''' ''^P^^ted his 
 
 went his way soli^j,' a'„"d r'efus'd r''^''' .""'^' ^"^« 
 moved from the old home • thrr ' ^" ''''" ' ^^e 
 and ask her to forgive h!m K . u '^"' *"'^ '"^ ^"d her 
 great world. At lasTLam ' '^' '"^'"^^ ^°«* '" the 
 
 excitement of his „ew leTn'' v *° 5^'=^^°' ^"^ '^^ the 
 thought that his sister wttt" °' k'°^ '^ ''^^ "° 
 wilderness. That n ght as reV'T^'^^ ""^ '"^^tar 
 Ma -T's face seemed fh^u" u o^t f dl"' '""l -'"• 
 Tower recognized it as nennl» • ^^ P^^t, and 
 
 ment or crisis, even thou^ fif! ^°^"''' ""'^''^ '" «<='"te- 
 he had seen her Vtas a bi«r 'T '^^ '''^''^ «'"« 
 ant and Christian min qI W^ '? *'' "°" ''^''-'^ 
 him up now. ^ ^'' relig.ous faith kept 
 
 .•n thr;orif t my^^;:rrH'",r^'^ ^"^ «*-« 
 
 again and again. buT would 1 h "f "^ ' " ""' "'^^ 
 changed man fr^m th^ XSt h' '°'"^°'-*«^- He was a 
 one great change. Tha h ' m'adrhim r"" '^' ''"" 
 sorrow made him a somewharstem !^ "''' *""" ' ^'^'^ 
 as the sweaters and greed v hi ^" '" '^'"^ ^ays. 
 
 to their cost in after "ars '°"'"^*°" ^°""<^ ^^ 
 
 owin^^^o^l^Ui^r ;! ^° '"' 'r^^ ^- ^ --th. 
 
 indomitable wil co^ d „Vt\ rnT'-?^'' "'^''*- ^"* ^'^ 
 ard and Tom came n Jo see h m n' 7 '°"'"^'- ^'^''■ 
 he was the hero of th. .1 1' .'"."'"'y ^^^'V day. and 
 -dest spirit, and looke^',^;:—^;-!;^;;;^ 
 
194 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 thou knightly soul I how great the gift of thy strong 
 nature even in its weakness ! 
 
 It was a week after this disaster that Richard's story 
 appeared in The Monthly Visitor. The first time Richard 
 and Tom came in to see King after that event, he 
 greeted them with the salutation, "Welcome, thou 
 ' coming author of serious fiction' !" 
 
 Richard colored up, flushed like a girl, and said 
 something about having only just begun to develop his 
 profession. 
 
 " Your profession has just begun to develop you. 
 Richard. Sit down, both of you, and let me read you 
 extracts from the daily press and one or two letters I 
 have received." The preacher sat with his foot bandaged, 
 resting it on a chair ; he was recovering rapidly and told 
 his sister he would preach the coming Sunday. 
 
 " I suppose you have seen the press notices on the 
 first installment of the book ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Richard, " we have seen some of them." 
 Tom broke in : " It's splendid ; why even The Daily 
 Arbiter conceded that the book promised to be interest- 
 ing, and that's a good deal for The Arbiter to say." 
 
 " Yes ; and I have two extracts my sister cut out for 
 me this morning. I don't think you have seen them. 
 One is from New York, the other from Boston. Listen to 
 this ; see if you can tell its source": 
 
 A new story 'us appeared in The Monthly Visitor. 
 It is strongly written, although it bears marks of credit. 
 The writer, who signs the name "Richard Bruce," is 
 evidently a woman, and the name is a pseudonym. Only 
 a feminine hand could pen such thoughts as the follow- 
 ing. [Here followed certain passages from the chapter, 
 which King did not read.] The strength of the work 
 lies in its complete unconventionality and its seriousness. 
 We shall watch the development of the story with great 
 interest. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. jg^ 
 
 never wouli achlve the disTi 'J^^'^^l'^" "^"^ ^ork 
 Dick was a woman I KnT T ""^ ^'''«=°vering that 
 Physics could pToduce s^uZ^'^^l ''^^^ -<* -t.v 
 Richard and King Jaughed 
 
 vieC^'^isttJX ?ijr ----The Re- 
 
 aJctnidfatJeitl We'" ^'^ ^^''^'''^ ^^^^ '» 
 It is long since anytWn^'s^ .!rT"' '* *° °"^ ^^^'^'='-- 
 It is the work of a you„Vmfn "^ t" f"''"'''^ '" P""t 
 his first attempt. Whoever "Rir f p"'^ ^■"^^^' ^"* "°t 
 predict that he is thll ■ ^^'"^ ^'■""" "'ay be, we 
 
 The story L a n wtpaX"' .'f °n °' ""°"» «^^-" 
 interest. departure, atid will command general 
 
 can'lT^^'LtlJnTiva"^^^^^ °^^ ^''-' "^o'^ 
 
 never take. I wanted to t ''°" *''"* *''" ^°^^ would 
 But it's all over not don?/°" ^'^^ «^^"'"^ P^°"<*- 
 any more at the bor;ding hous Tck '°" "'".•^^* ^^''^ 
 common folks like Mr. King and me f"'"' '''°'''*' ^'*^ 
 
 extL^LmTlX'r'ret" ^^'T^ "^"^ ^ -««» - 
 preacher took it upfroL the 7^ '. '"°'"'"«" The 
 
 with a twinkling ^eye"LLe„/"l?''""^ ^* Tom 
 writes": ^ ■^"*^" *° *his. My friend 
 
 better'^rn'^Trs T ^'^'^ '" ^^' ^^^ ? It - 
 Is it. or he!^ a n.an '.Va''"'"^- 7'° " *"« author ? 
 
 acquaintance\nthedtryouruTkn "!!'' ^°"^ '^^^^ 
 me hA»r * -^ ^°" '""St know the wri>,.r t -* 
 
 •aireaay. I am in love witf, the ,„,hor." ' 
 
^^ 
 
 ■■ 
 
 impii 
 
 196 
 
 F 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 " What do you think of that, Mr. Author ?" inquired 
 King gravely, " when I tell you that the letter is from a 
 beautiful young lady I " 
 
 "A romance in real life I " shouted Tom, while 
 Richard bi hed, but finally inquired demurely, thinking 
 he saw a certain look on King's face that meant 
 mischief : — 
 
 " How old is the young lady, sir ?" 
 
 " Only seventy-two," answered King. " She is an aunt 
 of mine, and a very young lady, for she has kept her 
 feelings and heart fresh to the times." 
 
 Richard looked relieved, and Tom shouted aloud to 
 see his change of, countenance. King motioned to him 
 to keep silence while he read from a second letter. 
 
 "Now then, listen to this, and guess whom it's 
 from " : 
 
 My Dear John,-I write specially to inquire about 
 the author of the new story just out in The Monthly 
 Visitor. It IS strong, wholesome writing, that. We need 
 more of it. If you know the writer tell him so for m- 
 There are weak things in the chapter, but it commends 
 Itself as a whole to my taste. Is Chicago going to pro- 
 duce a classic, or furnish us with a real writer of strong 
 fiction. I had once thought it impossible. Yours 
 sincerely." 
 
 Here King stopped. "Have you guessed?" Tom 
 and Richard shook their heads. King spoke the name, 
 a-tid they both stared. It was a name famous in two con- 
 tinents for literary power. 
 
 King looked at Richard kindly. 
 
 "My dear fellow," he said, "I am glad for you that 
 this success has come to the work of your brain. God 
 gave ,t to you. and to use wisely in the service of man- 
 kind; and I am sure you will say to all this praise of men. 
 
 mJ7t^ I ? « ' t""^ r ^°"'' "^^^ '" *■'« *°^W praising 
 Him for what He has done for you." 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. ,37 
 
 mauer in your ,k„H of °he si "' """''" "■°« '"l- 
 paper Will bn a fao. i„ l^oS^rj^^":'- ^all, Tom, ,h. 
 a name (or it yet ?•• '"■ Have you found 
 
 "Meanwhile y"„ Cw "ll'^ " '"*' '""<' <" '>™<>r. 
 daily ?•• ' """' '"""ellung of the plan of the 
 
 .schair an^rrf r^aTo^r-- -^^ 
 
 aX^^Sit:f'-f£4~^ 
 
 daily simultaneously It will h *''' "'"'"^ °^ ^^e 
 
 paper i„ each of the largTLLr Th'"" *'*^ ^^"^^ 
 sented to the reading publfc willl. .?' '"'"''" P^-^' 
 man's religious nature ,„5 I V 'u '''" ""*'''<^ ««'<» of 
 day in their relation tA rnL "^'J^ '^""^'^''^ °f the 
 
 being with an imrorS, "^rn'oT"' ''^''' '' ^ -°-' 
 
 in P-'l'TRthrr^wr T^o^rf \ ^"^ ^^^ - 
 sional interest. "" '''*^"ed with profes- 
 
 tiouir^' '' '°" "'''" ''^ "^-« ?" ««ked King cau- 
 
 Poli'tiraid^soSanr'''*!^ ^'''' ^^^P-tches, and 
 which people LTLeTeted^' "' ^" ^''^^ ^'''"^^ - 
 
 '^Alf Zet"' ' '"°'""'* ''«f°'-« he replied - 
 All those things make an ♦h- ij'- ^s-. ' 
 
 -ey Will he co^idered in ,Ut ^^^^^^^H^ "J 
 
198 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 not be presented as news in other dailies is given out. 
 The paper will be distinctively a religious paper." 
 
 " What denomination ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " All of them," answered King. " We have secured 
 leading men in all the churches to the editorship of the 
 daily, each in his owji city. Besidas that, each editor 
 will have on his staff, as associate editors, representatives 
 of all the great denominations. It will be one of the steps 
 m the way of church union that we have been trying to 
 bring about." 
 
 " It is a grand idea, but will it work in practice ? I 
 mean, will the paper take? Will it pay?" asktd 
 Richard. 
 
 ^ " I believe it will," answered King with enthusiasm. 
 I wish I could get up and walk around now in order to 
 express myself. Tom, won't you pace the room for me ?" 
 Tom rose, and seizing an old dressing-gown of King's 
 that happened to be lying over the back of a chair, he 
 put himself into it. He was so short, compared with the 
 stalwart preacher, that the gown trailed on the floor and 
 his arms were lost to sight up the long sleeves, and as 
 he started to tramp the floor vc an unconscious imita- 
 tion of King's manner, his two spectators were so con- 
 vulsed by his appearance that the conversation threatened 
 to be at an end. At last King went on :— 
 
 " There can be little doubt in my mind that the daily 
 will pay, if rightly managed. In the first place we have 
 capital sufficient to start the enterprise out well It 
 would astonish you to know the amount which conse- 
 crated men of means have put into this scheme. In the 
 first place the great revival has worked miracles in 
 human nature, and we are in possession of more means 
 to carry on aggressive religious and civilizing work 
 than we have ever had before. I have been astonished 
 at the results. It has dawned upon many of the well-to-do 
 people m my own church that they have been giving very 
 little to God and humanity, and many of them have come 
 to me and of their own free will have contributed gener- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. j^ 
 
 will depend, orcours; '1':.^" '^-'"^ ^'''^ P""^"^' 
 edited and the way n which h. ^r'^- '" ""^''^ '* ^' 
 element is made inteL^nf It u T""' ""' ^''"^*'^" 
 wonder to me for years Z ci- ^"" * '"***«'• °^ 
 had a successful nfluentil^r. '•'"*" ^'""''=* J'" "ot 
 There are sever;;"Sf h^, .^^^^ -"^'^ ^aiiy. 
 try ; I believe that a rnnc?-/ '"^'"t'ers m this coun- 
 readers can be worked un 1"'"''' u^ subscribers and 
 alone large enough to support tr/'.' ?"''*'*" P«°P'« 
 >t ^ill be the aim of the wl ."^ ''"^"^•^"y- Then 
 
 country an interesting paper w/h"^"'" *^ ^'^^ ^'^'^ 
 well-known Christ an wX? ^' ''*^* ''^'^"^^d a host of 
 
 we shall keep ou readl "0^ Tl"^;!'-'' ' ^"^ ^"ile 
 the day. our'^main pur^osrw^rte 1 '^ "T ^"^'^ °' 
 tively religious paper. To than" JLi °k """^ ^ ^•^*'"<=- 
 from eve^ othe^dai^ pub Lied ^^^^^^^^^ 
 upon us we purpose to extend th^ k, ^""'^ «^°'^» 
 large centers of life andT Publication to other 
 
 an international P pVm tlXX^' *'""^ ^° "*^^"«»' 
 the world, uniting in its colul, Jf '""""^^^^^^ ^11 over 
 and culture and enthusLsm InT ' ^'"'"' ^"^ ability 
 famous men and womrn ^f'l T'"' "'' °^ *^^ -°«' 
 globe. In this way TLl hiv ^^r''°"' °" th« 
 by the press such a, 7he 0^2'? '" '"''"^"^^ «t*"ded 
 
 for. such as I dream Ly'sotetimeh ""''^"'" '°"^ 
 Tom has stopped -valkin/ , °"^*'*""'' ^« » "-eality. But 
 
 a hint that I h'ave Tat ^h " "''"' '' "''"' '' *' 
 
 Tom had grown so inter i in *i, 
 scheme drawn by Kinir ihl'u u . ^^ magnificent 
 
 middle of the room w^Jh M^'L • ''"'* ' °PP^^ '" *he 
 turesqurly behind him i ''.'^"smg-gown throv/n pic- 
 
 the taUed co;3'o? h; g"own"h2"''"' 1 -'^^ '^^' ^^' 
 four times around his legs H^f TT^ ''''" '^''^ °^ 
 both Richard and Kin/burTt ilto "^ u *=°""**=^ *»*»* 
 'aughter. Tom looked very sXr^ ' '""^^ ^^^^ °' 
 
 —i be sorry some day that you made fun of the 
 
20O 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 head editor of the International Daily," he said slowly 
 and then joined merrily in the laugh as he crawled out 
 of his borrowed garment. 
 
 The talk ended that time, as the preacher had other 
 
 visitors come in to see him, but Tom was given certain 
 
 notes to work up, and King charged him -vith several 
 
 Items of correspondence in relation to the coming paper, 
 
 and the young men departed impressed with the gigantic 
 
 nature of the plan proposed and questioning much within 
 
 themselves whether the world had ever seen a more 
 
 enthusiastic and interesting, worker than the man who 
 
 sat in that modest room concealing the physical pain of 
 
 his injury by plans for the development and happiness of 
 
 the human race. ' 
 
 A week passed and another Sunday came. John King's 
 sister remonstrated a little against her brother's going 
 out but her gentle soul always acceded to the stronger 
 will, and the result was that King went to his church in 
 the carriage of a parishioner and gave his sermon 
 seated, as he was unable to stand. There was. as always. 
 a splendid congregation. It was the first time since the 
 disaster that King had appeared in public, and there was 
 a great desire to see and hear him. The service had a 
 special feeling through it on account of the part the 
 preacher had taken on the night when so many poor 
 creatures met death and torture in the ruin. There were 
 hundreds of young men present, and the occasion was 
 one of thrilhng interest. 
 
 T- ^\l PTi*"" *°'''' ^^'^ * ♦^'^t the words of Paul to 
 Timothy, For the love of money is a root if all kinds 
 of evil After speaking of the uses to which money 
 could be put. and emphasizing the fact that the man with 
 money was a steward of God, King went on to say:- 
 
 It flashed into my mind while imprisoned in the 
 midst ot that burning ruin three weeks ago that pos- 
 sibly the man who had the contract for that rotten struc- 
 ture was at that moment sitting in some comfortable 
 or, possibly, luxurious home, enjoying all the comfort- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 20I 
 
 of civilization. But I thmio-hf t u 
 
 places with him. if I shoZ h. T" ** "°' *'**=^^"«« 
 me for the rest of mv n t ""' *° ""^ *^o"t with 
 caused by my ° ed fof ^' '"^'^ ""'''''' °' having 
 of over thirty women and'^^S '^' **'^*'^ *"^ '»*»"''n^ 
 what that man cautS You .l '"' ^' '"^"^^' ^''^^ '^ 
 
 of the co.miss.r^tirre?t:rvrsS;'ratJ^' ^^^°" 
 
 aware that it has been ,>«„.. • , ^^"'K^te, and you are 
 ing was improperly corrlrr^^-''^^^^ ''''' '"^^ ^uild- 
 and. more ^ha^that X I ' '"'"^*='^"' '"^^«"^'«. 
 terials to be wan^nj'in «!« .h'°k"'''''°'' ^"^^ ^'^^ '"'»- 
 them because they we" chLn ' ^"^P^^^^^ased and used 
 money by it Therf U ^"" *"^ ^* *=°"^d '"ake more 
 which this guilty m?n 1, '°'"' *«^<=hnicality, friends, by 
 the city throSgL f^ar o rZ" P""'^^"^*"*' He ha. fled 
 relatives of T man.llr ."*' "^*"«*^ °" ^»»« »»« of 
 
 man, though he mav n«c= *°-"'Kht who envies that 
 
 change places whhhimM""'^'^ ""''^'^ ^ ^^o would 
 den o'f -pTnsStyThat "mZr ^"^ '^^^ *»>« ^"r- 
 ment unless he repents aL!. • "^^ "^ *° *^*^ J"dg. 
 
 is that man's duly now ? Th.^r '" *''" ^^^''^ ^ ^hat 
 and survivors of that disaster t '■"'°'"' *° '^' '^'^''^''^n 
 Of. and earn his ow" b^TbyThT Ct'of \f T^^^ 
 remainder of his days callin.r nlTJ ^ ^'""^ ^^^ 
 for Jesus' sake. For b; assured T n^*° ^°''«'^*^ ^im 
 will bring him into udgment Thi', *'^^^%^'^'"«« God 
 that the love of money wl" cause w"? V"' *'^'"«^ 
 murderer who stabs his felloL K • • f '°°^ "P°" ^^e 
 feeling of horror We wnl "^ '" '^' '^"^"«« ^'th 
 Jomes or let hfm as^^^iarth^r thLt"^ 'T °- 
 
 -tfr?s^,;:rc;??^h:rn:"^- ?^^^^ 
 
 and are admitted ilLhomrrf I *''' ?'«^''*='* ^'^^^'^ 
 influential, who are murdert3' and ,'"''"''' ^"^ '""^ 
 through their love of money '"'"' ""^ *'"*^^«» 
 
 thaiT°"s -- "'"■ ^"'"''' ^''^^ ^''"^ *re hard »,ord- - 
 * '' ""' '°'" "« to J«dge, that we be ^'* judged.' 
 
202 
 
 RICHARD BPUCE; OR, 
 
 I 
 
 But I am not judging these men; I am simply stating 
 facts. It was proved to the satisfaction of everybody 
 that the contractor of that building bought insufficient 
 materials in order that he might make more money on 
 his contract. It was proved that he knew the materials 
 to- be weak and the building to be dangerous; it was 
 proved that he was a man of large means, and lived in a 
 beautiful house and maintained his establishment with all 
 the modern luxuries; and yet, in the eye of God, that 
 man was a murderer on account of his love of money; 
 and every dollar he owns to-day is stained by the blood 
 of over thirty women and children whom he killed. You 
 remember, men and women of this mighty city, that 
 three weeks ago th«re stood up a strong man on this 
 platform and confessed Jesus Christ before the world. 
 That man's sister was one of the victims of the fatality; 
 and her death has emphasized the greed of another class 
 of men in this and other cities, the men who provide 
 cheap garments to the wholesale and retail dealers." 
 
 Here King went on to give some figures respecting 
 the sums paid for such work in some of the principal 
 cities of the United States. He then continued:— 
 
 "And in the face of these facts men go on making the 
 business of their lives pleasure or amusement or gain 
 and the knee is bowed to that great idol. Mammon, and 
 the almighty dollar is throned in men's hearts, and they 
 worship It as supreme. But will any man. in view of the 
 late horror or in remembrance of suffering womanhood 
 in the clutch of the sweater and his accomplices, dare to 
 make the one great aim of his existence the making of 
 money ? Who is here to-night so pure and generous, so 
 strong and humble, that he dares say, ' I will give my 
 life up to the great commercial spirit of the age, and love 
 money for the power it can bring, and yet trust to my 
 better nature not to let the money get control of me ?' 
 Who will dare deny that every man who puts up a cheap 
 and crowded tenement, every man -who pays a woman 
 four c^its to make an overcoat, every manufacturer and 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 203 
 
 retail and wholeiale clothing dealer who knows the facts 
 and still continues to get his goods from these men, every 
 man who is making immense profits on goods which are 
 put together oy fainting women in agony and despair, 
 every one of them— who will dare deny that every such 
 man is a murderer, even though he be a member of a 
 church and move in the best society, courted and flattered 
 by the slaves of a rotten aristocracy that has lost out of 
 It the heart and core of godlike humanity and lives on 
 the lives of other men, devoid of remorse and empty of 
 self-denial and self-sacrifice ?" 
 
 The preacher was thoroughly roused now. and every 
 word he said quivered in the hearts of his listeners as if 
 shot into them with some electrical weapons It was 
 very rarely that John King was so aroused in his outward 
 delivery; usually he was quiet. But the subject to-night 
 seemed to flame over and through him. The scenes he 
 had been through, the night of horror on the ruin, the 
 broken recital of Tower about his sister-all this had 
 stirred his sympathetic nature to its depths. The lion in 
 him was awake to-night, and th(^ sterner side of Gospel 
 was held out. He forgot, in his impassioned burst of 
 feeling that his right foot and leg were still bandaged 
 and suffering from the injuries received at the time of the 
 rescue He had been in the habit of pacing his platform, 
 as at home in his study, and it seemed to him that he 
 could not say what he must say unless he stood on his 
 feet. Before he knew it. the audience was thrilled to see 
 him rise. Pulling back the chair on which his foot had 
 been resting, he stepped to the front of the platform, and. 
 raising his arm as if in appeal to God, said : 
 
 " O Thou who searchest the secret and hidden pur- 
 poses of men's souls, tell us if we as a people are not as 
 much m need of Thy Son's rebuke as the rich men in 
 His own day to whom He said. 'But woe unto you. 
 scribes and Pharisees, hypocritesi for ye devour widows' 
 houses even while for a pretense ye make long prayers- 
 therefore ye shall receive greater damnation'" 
 
 -*. *^ 
 
«H 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 «n^^ !u ' "" inomcnt. and then, as he walked back 
 
 and forth at a cost to his injured foot which confined him 
 to hi3 house two weeks afterward, he said : 
 
 "One of the most blessed results of the mighty re- 
 v.val through which we have recently passed has been 
 the consecration of men of wealth to the needs of the 
 world I do not know what .would have befallen us as a 
 city If that regeneration had not come upon us. The 
 Joye of money was sapping our best powers. It was 
 driving men to ext. ivagance and luxury that were abso- 
 lutely criminal. It was destroying the very principles 
 which underlie the structure of an unselfish humanity, 
 ihank God, we have been spared the fate of Babylon and 
 many another ancient city in the destruction of its 
 grandeur and might from off the face of the earth! For 
 «t seemed to me at times, as I went through tlie streets 
 as I saw the eager, pushing throngs in the business 
 circles, as I watched the signs of greed on men's hard 
 faces that the one great aim of our city was. not to 
 glorify God. but to make money. Then God's Spirit 
 breathed on us. and we halted a little while. Heaven san^ 
 a song that reached our dull ears. Eternity claimed our 
 attention a little while, and many of us have learned that 
 the things that are eternal are the invisible things of crea- 
 tion. But I face young m^n to-night; they are full of 
 hope, ambit.on. disdain of difficulties, and already the 
 one greatest thing in all the world to most of them is 
 commercial prosperity. Money! money! They are be 
 ginmng to love it. It is beginning to be their god. And 
 yet-tnink. my friends, what it may mean to you as you 
 grow up. J j^u 
 
 "They tell me that through some negligence of the 
 officers the pile of ruin at the corner where that building 
 fell ,s still there .disturbed. I would to God that that 
 ruin might remi-in . -> ' revcr, and that over its ghastly 
 heap might be pb.ve • .^n-ase banner, visible by day 
 and iHuminated I- vr.:, so that thb -yhole city, as it 
 passed that way, trifcht .-ad in burning letters of fire, 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 20$ 
 
 Here penshed over thirty helpless women and innocent 
 children and bsbi s, slain by the love of money I* And I 
 would have that ruin stay there as a perpetual object les- 
 son V. the • oung men of this city, to remind them of what 
 right be possible for them to become if once they became 
 slaves to this god. I do not lose sight of the hard 
 struggle for existence; of the need of money; of the 
 anxiety which men feel to provide for their families and 
 pay for their homes. It seems to us sometimes as if 
 nothing m the world was so needful to our happiness as 
 dollars; but still, in spite of all that, it will always remain 
 true that the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. 
 Our blessed Lord said the same thing in another way. 
 He said that a rich man could hardly enter the kingdom 
 of heaven; He never said that of a poor man. Why did 
 he make that distinction ? Why was He so severe with 
 men of wealth ? Because His clear soul saw so surely 
 the curses that flow from that golden stream if it is loved 
 for itself. 
 
 "O men, men! let thest words burn into your souls 
 to-night. To-morrow the struggle is on again : the com- 
 petition will start up. You will try to beat your neigh- 
 bor; you will count the day successful if you make 
 money; you will count it a failure if you lose. The whole 
 day will be good or bad to you on that basis. Is not that 
 in Itself a fearful thought-that this god has so firmly 
 seated himself on your throne that he rules your happi- 
 .I'-s or unhappiness; that you are happy only when you 
 are making money, unhappy when you are losing it ? 
 And yet you have a wife and children at home. Many 
 of you are in no danger of failure; you have more than 
 enough for your wants. What ought God and home and 
 prayer and eternal life to mean to you ? Have they no 
 value to determine your happiness or unhappiness ? Sup- 
 pose all your possessions should be swept away to-night 
 Would you do as that man did yesterday who lost on- 
 hundred thousand dollars .'n business, and shot himself 
 in his counting-room and died there ? Did he "ot die 
 
206 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 as the fool dieth ? Yea, verily; for he perished, forgetful 
 that he had an immortal soul left, worth more than the 
 riches of ten million worlds like this. Go home and 
 count your riches, men and women of Chicago. Wife 
 and husband and lover, little children, home, the revela- 
 tion of God in Jesus Christ, the forgiveness of sins, the 
 promise of eternal life, the love of God-oh, we are all 
 infinitely rich in some of these things, and all, all rich 
 m the love of God! Make money and consecrate it to 
 God s glory, to the extension of His kingdom on earth, 
 to the relief of human suflFering. Use it. but be not used 
 py It. It IS a servant. Let it not become a master; for 
 just so surely as it masters you it will chain you with 
 tetters and throw yqu into a dungeon of hideous dark- 
 ness. and the sweet air of God's world and the blessed 
 iragrance of His blossoms of unselfish ministry and ser- 
 vice shall never be felt by you more. Listen to the words 
 of the Spirit of God; they were spoken long ago, to 
 another civilization, but they still remain good for all the 
 world : Because thou sayest. I am rich, and have gotten 
 riches, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that 
 thou are the wretched one and miserable and poor and 
 
 WH K / 'u • ^ '°""'*^' '^'"^ *° ^^y °f Me gold re- 
 fined by fire that thou mayest clothe thyself, and that 
 the shame of thy nakedness be not made manifest; and 
 eye-salve to anoint thine eyes, that thou mayest see.' 
 And may all that we do or say be to the glory of our 
 Lord, world without end. Amen." 
 
 The week following this service was a busy one for 
 both Tom and Richard. The Monthly Visitor had been 
 so pleased with the reception of Richard's story that they 
 had made him an oflFer to come into the office and accept 
 a position on the staff of editors, with the privilege of 
 devoting to his special book writing what time he needed 
 It was a good oflfer, although the salary was meager; bui 
 Richard accepted it, rejoiced to feel that he was in the 
 way of making progress in his loved profession. Tom 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 io7 
 
 was happy with his new work, in preparation for the new 
 daily. He entered into the plan with such enthusiasm 
 
 n seTe'LTltT V^^^'"^ ^°""^ ^^ indispensabJ^ 
 m service, and kept him busy much of the time at hi, 
 
 snii continued to do a large amount of work 
 
 came TtZV'^u''^ ^' *^" '^""'^ °^ ^he week that Tom 
 
 .able tor mlllllr^:^' "" '"'^''^^ '" ^"" '"^ 
 
 thaiTr.;l:fL''t"'' '"''"''• "' ''^« "-ad a letter 
 "wmT I «« to read it to you." 
 
 i. w!?^ luTdlL"":' 'r '".""«' Tom; "because i( 
 
 .^f'i°ibLd":i;b?.^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 .abll^dlLckToirfri JU«t "'He'lV'™^" '"^ 
 to pick it uo alfhn,,,.!, *i! . °°"'^- He made no move 
 
 Zrt't' ']""• "'*" '^'"f Tom in a muffled tone 
 
 -tU;r.r,^^l^:rL^-^e^r"- 
 
208 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I have written unto you, young men, because ye are 
 strong. — Saint John. 
 
 The letter was dated from a little town in southern 
 Dakota, and was written by the minister of a missionary 
 church there : 
 
 "To Mr. Richard Bruce, Chicago, Illinois. 
 
 " Dear Sir, — I am under the painful necessity of iwrit- 
 ing you sad news, and, although I am accustomed to 
 such duties, I shrink from my present task as if it were 
 the first time I had ever been called upon to perform it. 
 Your uncle, Mr. West, died here yesterday, after a brief 
 illness caused by overwork and exposure. His last words 
 were : " Write to Richard "—yourself. Your aunt was 
 ■not sure of your city address, but I write according to 
 her directions. She is, as you know, an invalid, and can- 
 not stir from her room. The death of your uncle removes 
 all support from the family. They have no relatives 
 living here, and, indeed, Mrs. West says that you are the 
 only near relative iu the worid. The three boys are not 
 yet old enough to do anything. Mr. West left no pro- 
 perty, and the family (I say this in all frankness) is des- 
 titute, and v/ould be in actual want if it were not for the 
 • kindness of the neighbors. I write you in response to 
 your uncle's dying request, not knowing anything of your 
 ability to be of assistance to the family in this hour of 
 their sorrow and need, but feeling quite sure that you will 
 do what you can. 
 
 "I am, very truly yours, 
 
 " Henry Eascqmbe." 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 209 
 
 "What dc you think I ought to do ?" 
 Richard """"' ''°'' ""> '" "^ P'«='" Pe"i..ed 
 
 Richard smiled a little. "That is about what I have 
 
 lavorite. I never saw him but once- he vUif^H o* 
 our house when I was a small boy mC aun. t 
 
 certain ,tad „r -a^wt' 'U „"„l,l:,-Xld'a: 
 
 ne rX'Xr'aid' fC 1' "Kf^T^' ""'-'** 
 
 <a™i.. I .C;iT.l„'L°J^,oir;ora<,Xe 'to'™' 
 and ..art tor South Dakota on ,ha next "rail, " "' '^'■"■' 
 
 I dont know," answered Richard cheertnllv "h,., 
 
 I can do something; I'm strong I ™ iT . . 
 " urk.^ ••• strong. 1 can shovel coal " 
 
 Wha« will yon do ahont ,™., . 1. . ,....■. . 
 
 Visitor?" •'""'^ ""■» on ine Monthly 
 
210 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 '' Have to give it up, I suppose." 
 
 " Why couldn't you send for them to come on here ?" 
 suggested Tom. " Both of us could support the family 
 by our united earnings." 
 
 ;' We couldn't do it, Tom. This is the situation : my 
 entire yearly income is less than six hundred a year. In 
 order to earn that I must have my entire time and put 
 in my undivided strength. My aunt will need the care of 
 a nurse, and the expense of a household of five would be 
 more than I could meet. As for your doing anything in 
 that way Tom-old fellow. I appreciate it. you know I 
 do-but I must bear this burden alone; there is some- 
 thing in me that tells me I ought to. If the time comes 
 
 worM . J '* T^ ""T ^^^^ ^'^P' there is no one in the 
 world to whom I wo'uld go quicker than to you." 
 
 Richard spoke in a decided, quiet tone. Tom was 
 familiar with it. and knew it meant an end of all discus- 
 sion. He sighed and said : 
 
 "It doesn't seem just right to me that you should 
 have to give up your chosen profession to take care of 
 other people. Can't you arrange the matter in some other 
 
 AA^^^ ''i"J* '*'" '"P""^ ^'*='^*'-d. rising to walk up 
 and down. "The minute I read MrT Bascombe's letter 
 before you came ,n. it flashed upon me that I would have 
 iLfTJ'' "''' authorship and go to work at something 
 bovV f ??°"'''. '" '* '° '"PP"""* A""t Esther and the 
 
 isTn . T T '' "° '"°"'y' ^°'"' '" ^"«"». ""less one 
 s an extraordinary genius at it, and I know very ^11 
 
 me in T "f ?'.'°°' ^'^* ""'' ''"" ^"--^^"1 b-uTh 
 me n two hundred and fifty dollars, but it represenTed 
 nearly eight months' hard work. My salary'on The 
 Visitor ,s forty dollars a month, and Mr. Calvin offered 
 me three hundred dollars for a short serial the oLr day 
 But 1 would take me. with my habits of composition. I 
 
 ndustt"' 7"V° ""*' '■*• ^^ '''* ^^'^ uninterrupted 
 industry and application I could make a living. Tom and 
 
 m the course of years I might become comfortably off 
 
 ..ijfc.;^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 2II 
 
 work for the J Wd /l ,dl ;7 Tom'T'^r "^^ '" 
 
 hmd me, you old s„pmtl Do you think T=™ ■ . 
 preach one thing and live another ? i ''°'"' '" 
 
 your converts!' Well tL ' ™ ''°' <>"« of 
 
 I shall be a coward a 1 IT' ?',""'" '""" '"^ ""■•• 
 right np ,0 Dar«a a!d Ik "' '"' "='= " ' •">°'' «» 
 aunt and the b^yf So aTS """««?"" » support 
 tu. help me to°^t ^S'.T.r^r^Z'^" """' "" "•"'• 
 
 night 'R^rVS ',°' "" ""'"■"'"' ^<""« °°' « mid- 
 
 wi^ To^'fh;trrrrdy"by\f:: rcrt- """ 
 
 down and wrote a nnf^ f« th- J?^, . ° '^'°^'^- ^e sat 
 
 Parture, anrt^keVx^rto^giv? ^o^^^ "J" ^, !i" '- 
 person. * ^ " *^ """ next day in 
 
 " I would like to see Mr JCi^., u t 
 -o„,.ho„aspacking1[ich*^rbtL\irj;:,:t 
 
 s.atIorandTJe°sfe°alL'f' If"' °" "" ™^ *» '<■' 
 Tom. ' ' '■«'" '" "" «"'!)'. I«'s ring," said 
 
 wi/d::: 'X^g^trsCfup^r h:---,''-' ?-^ 
 
 .;d^™g. Mr. King himsS? e^a Je do^ aX»e^d°.: 
 
 B,v^h1^ .':!..!?;:' "i* •■«.°=°«l «ood humor. looMn- at 
 '""'■°» "«• "Wch Tom was car^-ing. "com. 
 
ff 
 
 2U 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 to stay all night ? You're too late for supper, but I can 
 rummage around and get you a cold pie." 
 
 " You might let Dick have it for lunch," said Tom 
 He tried to say something funny, but, to Mr. King's sur- 
 prise, suddenly stopped and began to cry. Tom cried 
 like a girl; and one of his characteristics was that he 
 never tried to conceal this habit. He said it was natural 
 to him, and he had a right to cry if he wanted to. Richard 
 in a few .words explained the cause of his sudden de- 
 parture. 
 
 "You're quite right," nodded King cheerfully. "When 
 you reach there you will be better able to plan for the 
 future than you coMld do here." 
 
 sure you would 
 
 Richard looked pleased. "I was 
 approve of my going, Mr. King." 
 
 " Not but that I know what it means to you," an- 
 swered King with a look that showed how fully he under- 
 stood Richard's sacrifice. " You'll never regret it. Tom 
 what are you making it so moist here for, and taking the 
 color all out of my sftdy carpet with your tears ? You 
 would do the same thing in Dick's place, you know you 
 would." 
 
 Yes; but Dick has been all the world to me, Mr. 
 King, for over seven yeirs, and I don't know what I 
 shall do when he is gone. I just know I'll make a fool 
 of myself," continued Tom desperately. "It'll bo just 
 like me to fall in love, or some such nonsense, after 
 Dick's gone." 
 
 Mr. King could not help laughing, and Richard 
 laughed with him; but Tom looked disconsolate, and 
 retired to the little hallway while his chum and the 
 preacher said a few words in parting. Dick's eyes were 
 teary as he joined Tom on the landing, and the two went 
 out, followed by John King's hearty, "God bless you 
 both, boys! Come in and see me to-morrow, Tom.", 
 
 At the station Richard purchased his ticket, and found 
 
 , 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 213 
 
 can 
 
 that he had only five dollars left. Tom insisted on his 
 taking ten dollars. He did so without any remonstrance. 
 The money received for the book had been nearly spent, 
 and Tom kept up a polite fiction about it, although it did 
 not deceive Richard, who knew very little of that sum 
 could be left, and his salary on The Visitor had not been 
 paid yet. 
 
 At last the train began to pull out. Tom had not 
 gone inside the gate, but from a position outside the 
 railings he waved his hand to his chum as he stood on 
 the platform, and then the night out beyond the end of 
 the station swallowed up the midnight express, and left 
 Tom standing alone in the great city with -the most for- 
 lorn feeling at heart that he had ever known. It had all 
 happened so suddenly that it seemed to him like a night- 
 '"^ff-^.^'^f" *>« ""^a^^hed the little room he felt almost 
 as If Dick had died and he had just got back from his 
 funeral. 
 
 If it had not been for the letters the next few weeks 
 Torn would certainly have become very blue. As it was 
 he kept up a correspondence as faithful and almost as 
 constant as that which lovers carry on. We have the 
 privilege of reading a part of this correspondence, which 
 reveals a great part of the life our two friends were living 
 at this period. 
 
 id 
 
 From 1 .chard to Tom. 
 
 "Dear old Tom,-I write first, as I promised, seeing 
 I am the one to go into new things, and I know how you 
 are situated, and you don't know about me until I tell 
 you. 
 
 " Wf ' the first thing I have to say to you is what 
 was said to his friends by the man who had just fallen 
 mto an o d cellar half-full of water : ' Don't come here.' 
 For of all the forlorn places, Tom, this one is the prize 
 place for forhrmty. I don't knnw fha* *h— •- -^-h a 
 word in the dictionary, but I feel the need of' having ane. 
 
214 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 
 } 
 
 and I made it. The boom here, Tom, went and busted 
 (burst IS too feeble to express the idea) about a year ago, 
 and the pieces can be had for almost the cost of picking 
 them up. If you have ever been in a western town that 
 has been visited by a boom, and then swept by a cyclone, 
 and then had a prairie fire go through it, and experienced 
 a raid by cowboys, you will have a faint impression of 
 the dull times in Colby at present. There are a thousand 
 people here now instead of four thousand two years ago 
 I am not sure, but I think I saw a prairie dog village 
 startmg up in the open square in front of the post office- 
 and unless I am much mistaken there is a cobweb as big 
 as an umbrella stretched over the doorway of the once 
 Metropolitan Hotel. pPhe place isn't old enough to have 
 any ghosts in it; but if it was, there are plenty of empty 
 houses for them to tenant, and, judging from the impres- 
 sions of the few real estate men left here, even a ghost 
 could rent a very fine eight-room house for almost no- 
 thmg a month if he would simply pay the insurance and 
 keep up repairs. 
 
 " My Aunt Esther was glad to see me. She did not 
 seem very much surprised; simply said, ' I thought some- 
 body would rorr.e,' and then she seemed to accept me as 
 If I had a.ways belonged to the family, and had come to 
 stay indefinitely. The three boys are named, curiously 
 enough, Tom, Dick, and Harry. Aunt tells me it was 
 not thought by any one at the time how it would sound 
 1 took to Tom at once for your sake, and before I knew 
 rt I had the youngster on my knee, and he was putting 
 the questions to me about Chicago and how it looked and 
 what I used to do there. He is cut out for a newspaper 
 man, I think. Well, the family is living in a very cheap 
 two-story frame house on the edge of the town. Aunt 
 says it is mortgaged, and so is every house in town, I 
 should judge, from the remarks I hear. What the family 
 has had to live on for a year past is a mystery to me, and 
 what ,t is going to live on for a year to come is even a 
 greater mystery. Aunt Pc*li#.r ic «»«- 'f-KI- =--« • •^ 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 215 
 
 solutely no means. There is not a cent of money in the 
 house except what I have in my pocket. I am in a little 
 room upstairs, and it is furnished comfortably; and I am 
 seated here by the window that overlooks the town writ- 
 ing this letter, Tom, just twenty-four hours after my 
 arrival. What I shall do here is a problem yet. I am 
 going to call on Mr. Bascombe, the minister, and consult 
 with him. I wonder if he is like John King. But, of 
 course, he can't be; there is only one John King, of 
 course. I must go downstairs now and get supper. Yes, 
 Tom, I am the chief cook to this establishment, and I 
 may yet apply to the head spider of the Metropolitan 
 Hotel for a position. My lamp has gone out. It had not 
 been filled. Good-night, Tom. Dick." 
 
 From Tom to Richard. 
 
 " Nothing has happened in Chicago, dear Dick, since 
 you left. The most thrilling event has been the receipt 
 of your letter containing the pen picture of Colby. I take 
 it from your description it is not exactly like Chicago. 
 You are not in danger of being run over by the cable cars, 
 especially in front of the post office and the Metropolitan 
 Hotel. What on earth can you do in such a place, Dick ? 
 Not even your pluck can put a new bottom into a town 
 where it has fallen out so completely. I still think it 
 would be the wisest policy to bring the family to Chicago 
 and let us unite our forces in their support. I don't see 
 what you can do in Colby. I shall be interested to hear 
 what you do. You must cut a pretty figure as chief cook. 
 The old college experience will come handy, won't it ? 
 But I never knew you could cook anything but fried 
 oysters and boiled eggs. I don't believe you know 
 whether to use cornstarch or isinglass in mince pie; but 
 judgmg from your description of poverty at Colby it 
 isn't hkely you have mince pie more than once a day. 
 The boarders at our old table. Dick, expressed their 
 regret at your departure, and voted to send you a little 
 
ai6 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 token of the,r regard. You will be surprised when you 
 
 ake a round box out of the post office, and, unless the 
 
 cake ,s reduced to a mass of pulp by the United States 
 
 ma 1 agents, you will be pleased. I am sure, at seeing and 
 
 hed"f T ""''"'' ^r"'- '"'^^ ^^"^'^^y- Mrs. Gr^ump' 
 shed a few tears wmle mixing the ingredients (at leas 
 she said so to me), so if the cake is extra salt that w' 
 account for it. But the hard-working old lady har" 
 tender regard for you Dick, as indeed' all the boarder 
 me ; L ^' somebody will cry when I leave and send 
 M 1^' """u P." ^'"^"^'"^ ^'^h affectionate tears. 
 
 detanrnf ?.^ ^^'"' *° ^""^^^^ "•■°""d ^'th a cane. The 
 details of the new paper are nearly completed, and the 
 first issue will appear the first of next month. I am in 
 rece.pt of letters every day. acting as secretary for Mr 
 K ng, which express great enthusiasm for the project I 
 believe it will be one of the great factors of hisgenera 
 
 kingdom """^ '"''" °"""" ^"' '"'P'"« ^P-^^ cSs 
 Five hundred of us unite with Mr. King's church at 
 the next communion. Think of that. Dickl Five hun 
 dred young men I You remember we talked of it before 
 you went away. Mr. Kine desired r.11 iU^ 
 unite in o Ur.^ >/ , °^^"^^^ all the young men to 
 unite in a body. Most of them, in fact I suppose all of 
 them, are the result of the great awakening.' The other 
 churches have also had large additions. It will be a erea 
 occasion for me, Dick. Truly if any man is ii ChrTt 
 reVf V'^ r^*"'^- ' '"" '' ^'ff^r^nt inside as if I had 
 ^ ^^ is: iS ' ''-' ^- ^- -e Christ 
 
 pape^news "/T' ""V°"' ^- "o* retailing any ,news- 
 
 agafn I Lve V? '"'^'^"''^ ^"'^'"^ *° ^''^' ^^om you 
 again. I have lost my appetite since you left and am 
 
 «s.ng some patent bitters to tone up my constitution 
 
 Farewell. 
 
 Tom. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 217 
 
 From Richard to Tom, 
 
 Fnend Thomas,— Tht one great excitement in Colby 
 IS the arrival of the daily train. Every mother's son 
 gathers about the station about ten minutes before the 
 schedule time, and for a little while there is a good deal 
 gomg on in Colby. After the train leaves, the population 
 adjourns to the postoffice and there is another little wave 
 of excitement there. When the mail is distributed and 
 given out, Colby has a reaction and takes to bed, only to 
 get up and go through the process the next day. The 
 diary of the average man in Colby would read like that 
 one written by one of Mark Twain's boys : " Got up, ate 
 breakfast, dinner and supper, and went to bed," and so 
 for a week. 
 
 Well, Tom, I have been to see the minister, Mr. Bas- 
 combe and I was agreeably surprised. He is a young 
 man who came. here right from the seminary at the time 
 when Colby was beginning to boom, and he has seen the 
 whole thmg and had some heart-breaking experiences. 
 His church numbered two hundred and fifty members, 
 and they bu.lt a five-thousand-dollar building and had it 
 nearly finished when the bubble burst. His church num- 
 bers forty-five at present, and the financial outlook is as 
 clear as a London fog. But Mr. Bascombe has hung on 
 at the entreaty of those who have ren^-iufd here and who 
 were unable to sell out or get away, -..M he is working as 
 hard to save men now as in the old days of the excitement. 
 He is a hero in his way, as great as John King, for he 
 does not have John King's surroundings and encourage- 
 ments In fact, put John King into a place like this and 
 It would test his Christian manhood pretty severely Not 
 but that he would meet the test all right, but there are 
 heroes in this western country, Tom, whose names don't 
 get into the papers very often, men who are leading lives 
 of hardship and self-denial and heart-breaking disappoint- 
 ment such as the great explorers and captains of the 
 world never knew. 
 
3l8 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 I had a good long visit with Mr. Bascombc. and he 
 thought the best thing I could do would be to get upon 
 a farm with the boys and my aunt. There is absolutely 
 nothmg to do in town. There is a chance for me to work 
 on a farm about three miles out, with a man who has 
 lately been injured and needs help very much. Mr. Bas- 
 combc thinks we can make arrangements with this man 
 so that aunt and the boys can go out there to live, and I 
 u^r'iuV^f ^"PP"'-* ""til something better presents 
 
 Inf ' .T^"a !.^' *^°°^ ^°^' 'r^'"' '"y body is strong 
 and well I And .t seems wicked to have any rebellious 
 thoughts when health and eternal life are in one's pos- 
 session. I have been" guilty, dear chum, of spending some 
 time m wondering with myself why my uncle did not 
 make Provision for these helpless ones in his care, and I 
 know he d.d not do right to leave them as he did; and 
 y«t there are hundreds of good business men right here 
 in this town who have lost every cent they ever had 
 m speculation. It has seemed a little hard for me to stop 
 my writing and do physical work, and I have a struggle 
 
 rr 'k t"* 'i '"'"' *° ^"^ ""y ^"*y' ^"d I ""not make 
 It any better by complaining or trying to live over the 
 
 ChiL.n°'T.! '' "° "'' *° *''^ °^ *'""^'"« the family to 
 
 rfnn'.^^ ? !"'°"' °^ * "^"'^' '« too uncertain. I 
 
 th?L T " '*; ^ ^^'' ^"" 't t"^d t°o often. On 
 
 oilZl T T '* ' l' '* '"" °"'" "^'"« ^"d '"«="•• "o debt, 
 of which I have a horror too deep to express. 
 
 monti 1, T l""' 1° '''"^' '"^ ^"y ^P^^dily came to 
 mouth when I brought it home and let Tom. Dick and 
 
 a?d7 T^'V'' ^^ ^''' ^'^"^^ to all the old boa;ders 
 and to Mrs Grump, whose tearful affection for me did 
 not .n;ure the cake in the least. How I would love to 
 see you all! 
 
 on Z^'f^.'^*''' !f*Tn^ ^^""^ "'^'^^ arrangements to go 
 !"„?'^ i'''"!:. ^"** «hall move out there the first nf tie 
 -cc X wiii write as soon as I can after getting settled 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 219 
 
 there. Good-bye for the present. You remember I was 
 raised on a farm. Tom, so I shall get on swimmingly. I 
 shall sign myself hereafter, 
 
 Farmer Dick." 
 
 Mr. King to Richard. 
 
 "Now. then, my dear fellow, don't look surprised 
 when you open this letter and see the check for fifty fall 
 out of It, and don't you go to sending it back to me 
 either, because I'm not sending it to you but to Tom 
 Dick, and Harry, of whom Tom has told me. It seems 
 that one of my church members is acquainted with Mr 
 Bascombe, of Colby, and in the course of a correspond- 
 ence the case of your uncle's family was mentioned. My 
 parishioner came to me and insisted on doing something 
 and wished me to send the fifty on to you, to be expended 
 as you saw fit or as the need required. So that is the 
 history of that bit of blue paper. I have heard of Bas- 
 combe. He has written an occasional bright paper for 
 our reviews. He will do you good. He is a true man. 
 God bless you, Richard! You are young yet, and God 
 means to make noble use of you in His world. Your life 
 will not be wasted through the present sacrifice. Write 
 me a line. Yours always, John Kino." 
 
 Tom to Richard. 
 
 " Farmer Dick,-In my mind's eye I can see you 
 going around in a pair of check overalls and flannel shirt 
 with an old straw hat of last season's growth on the top 
 of your head and your back hair in need of trimming 
 Send us some butter and eggs, Dick, for the boarding 
 table, and then we'll know they are not manufactured. 
 1 11 pay the express just for the fun of the thing. 
 
 "Have you heard of the scare we had here last week ? 
 Dont suppose you have very close connections with the 
 
 Sp. 
 
220 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 world on that farm. Mr. King had a handsome call from 
 one of the largest churches in New York, to take the 
 place of Dr. B., who died recently. The newspapers got 
 hold of it in some way, and there was a sensation all over 
 town. All this before Mr. King had said a word. Sun- 
 day evening he spoke of it, and announced his intention 
 to remain in Chicago. It was so still that it was painful. 
 And, Dick, the most remarkable thing is that after the 
 announcement there was no attempt at applause. It was 
 so well known by the people that Mr. King did not desire 
 anything of the kind that they received the mews of his 
 decision to refuse the call with bowed heads. I saw many 
 faces wet with happy tears, and Mr. King's^ hand was 
 nearly wrung off after service. I never heard him preach 
 better. Our communion is next Sunday afternoon. It 
 will be a special service. I am anticipating it with great 
 eagerness. But I want to hear from you again about the 
 farm and the boys. I send you by mail a small box of 
 candy, which you may give to my namesake, Tom. I 
 will adopt tha^ boy myself when I am an old bachelor 
 with plenty of money. Mr. Bascombe must be a rare 
 character. Glad ycu have such a man near by. I will 
 send you the first copy of the new daily as soon as it 
 appears. It is to be called The Christian. Good-bye. 
 
 " P. S.— Never try to raise chickens from porcelain 
 eggs. It does not pay, besides being a dead loss to buy 
 porcelain. 
 
 " P.S. No. 2. — If Tom will have his picture taken, I 
 will pay for it. I want to see how he looks. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Chum." 
 
 From Richard to Tom. 
 
 " It has been two weeks, chum, since I had a chance 
 to write. We moved out here under some difficulties, 
 — .L .,, .,!._. 1,3^ iQ ii\c iiiciii uvci. 1 lie people wno own 
 the farm are Mr. and Mrs. Clayton. They are better off 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 221 
 
 townspeople. Mr. Clayton fell and injured himself 
 than most of the farmers in this vicinity, although the 
 farmers have not suffered so much from the boom as the 
 severely a while ago. It is just in the busiest season, and 
 he was anxious for help to get in crops. Mr. Bascombe 
 rode out with me to mqke arrangements with him. It 
 was arranged that aunt and the children come out, and 
 that our living expenses be met for the present by what 
 I could do, with the understanding that we were free to 
 make other conditions at the end of a month. Aunt made 
 some objections to going, but finally yielded. Poor Aunt! 
 She is very feeble, and has borne much sorrow. The boys 
 were delighted, and Tom nearly had his head cut off by 
 the binder before he had been there two hours. Mrs. 
 Clayton is a beautiful woman, a real cultured, refined New 
 England woman. She was pining for company, and that 
 is one reason Mr. Clayton made the bargain with us. His 
 wife is delighted with the children, and will prove good 
 company for Aunt Esther. So I feel as if the move was 
 a good one. I have been working in the harvest and hay 
 field these two weeks, and your imaginary farmer in over- 
 alls, flannel shirt, and straw hat is not so far out of the 
 fact. I sent the butter and eggs yesterday. You pro- 
 bably meant it for a joke, but I showed your letter to Mrs. 
 Clajrton, and she entered into the plan with great zest, 
 and the unmanufactured farm produce is on the way. 
 
 " The first copy of The Christian reached me two days 
 ago. I devoured it eagerly. It is a grand paper. 1 
 showed it to Mr. Clayton, and he was so pleased that he 
 asked me to write, ordering it for him. I enclosed the 
 amount and his address. So you see I am able to do some 
 good still, Tom. The world seems a good ways off to 
 me here. The work is hard and the life is apparently 
 drudgery, but there is very sweet peace in my soul, Tom. 
 Besides, I have found time already, after work ait night, 
 to do a little writing, and I find the old instinct is just 
 as Sifong in me es evcf. 
 
 " I gave Tom your candy, and the young rascal 
 
222 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 divided evenly with his brothers. I hope you are pleased 
 with the picture I send. The very day I received your 
 letter a travelling photographer happened along, and I 
 had all three of the boys taken, sitting on the hay wagon. 
 Tom's the saucy-looking fellow on the left, holding a 
 large slice of bread and sorghum in his hand. Write me 
 about the communion service, Tom, and send me Mr. 
 King's sermon if it is oublished. You know he occa- 
 sionally has one printed, and I should very much like 
 ♦■> see it. Love to your always, from 
 
 "The Farmer." 
 
 Tom's next letter, written just after the communion 
 service, was brief but full of feeling. He enclosed a copy 
 of Mr. King's sermon, which had been printed in a 
 memorial edition, and distributed among the young men 
 who united with the church for the first time. We can 
 give only a selection from the sermon, which was ad- 
 dressed almost entirely to the young men before the 
 preacher. 
 
 The text was from John, the preacher's favorite author. 
 
 " I have written unto you, young men, because ye are 
 strong." 
 
 "The Christian life, my brothers, uses strength, and 
 demands strength and gives strength. Some of you have 
 seen a game of football between two rival college teams; 
 but unless you have been one of the players you do not 
 feel the fierce determination, the glow of well-spent effort, 
 the sweep of exultation in the victory. You may be inter- 
 ested in the result of the game as you watch it, and you 
 may feel disappointment or delight in defeat or victory. 
 But the players feel it all tO' the utmost. And one must 
 be in the thick of it himself to feel the whole of the con- 
 test. It is just the way in this Christian life on which 
 you have just entered. You are no longer spectators, 
 but actorSi It is vour same now. this o'ame of contest 
 where eternity is at stake, and God is the judge, and the 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 223 
 
 life that «ow is is the field of action. Most of you »,ere 
 rre'tktV rthe^'oTiL ^'n ^'""'"- 7-"' "^^ 
 
 being in my feeling and purpose. There is a spiritual 
 hfe in me now that has the divine germ in it. Ther i 
 
 you are eoL ? ' 7°'" ^'^^^ y°". '"y friends, that 
 
 hereafter tT^ ""^^^ ''^^ "^^'^^'^ '^'^esl^ yours 
 
 hereafter. There is so much need of the hearty unselfish 
 vigorous vitality of strong young men in the wirM And 
 
 ng thrrrir? ''r^* *° "^ ^^^^ °^*- -h"« walk- 
 "f crowdfnf ' ' °l^ ^'■^^ "^y ^'^^ °"rs to see 
 
 „! n^ f ^°""« *"'" fl°^'"S into our saloons seek- 
 
 ing places of questionable recreation or making "he our 
 
 Th tZZet r '''■'' °"^'^' ^°^ their':n^h'u:i^sm: 
 
 needeZiL I f °'' '" °"'' ^^^ J"^' ^' '""ch as it 
 needed them m the days of Paul or Augustine or Luther 
 or Savonaro a or Weslev Tt,- , fj . ^-utner 
 
 heroes Th^^r^ ^^^ley. The world always needs 
 
 Xse^ thr';^ hT^r :e"riv^ .^thri ":i 
 
 s.re..*5Ttii/U rc.,r t tta.^T t s^iS 
 man as «»vpr Ar,A u • . *«"«. ui me spiritual 
 
 my brotherl" Th^. '' "°' "T^^ ^''"P'>' *° ^e good. 
 
 i5i=r.;-,s:,.'Vi?:;~.-i-;.- 
 
 I j 
 
h h 
 
 V. 
 
 1-; 
 
 224 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 you are no longer of those who watch the struggle of 
 humanity. Your own hearts are in it now, and your 
 strength will be used nobly as those who actually strive 
 
 for the victory. 
 
 " Then you will find that this Christian life not only 
 uses strength, but demands it. This is no sentimental 
 thing you have undertaken— something that an old wo- 
 man or any pious and feeble-minded old man could do 
 just as well; but you will fin4 in the new 1-fe that all your 
 powers will have all they can do. It won't be necessary 
 for you to go into the ministry to feel this to be true; 
 but in your different professions or business or trade you 
 will find that all you have in you will be demanded in 
 the service of the Mastei. The world has not understood 
 ^his right. It has sneered at the Christian, and thought 
 he was a weak, feeble-minded, sentimental religious being. 
 That is because the world has not understood the graces 
 of meekness and gentleness of a true Christian. Because 
 bluster and swagger and boasting have been wanting, 
 men of the world have thought the Christian weak and 
 lacking in manhood. I want to see that impression re- 
 moved by those young men who unite with the body ot 
 Christ to-day. You can impress the strong elements of 
 a Christian manhood upon the world so that it shall see, 
 even if it cannot understanu, the power of the life withm 
 you. And as you put it to the test you will find this to 
 be true-there is not a faculty God has given you which 
 may not be used to His glory; not a latent power which 
 may not be developed in the service of the Master; not 
 a power of energy which may not be transformed into 
 heat and light for the redemption of .^en- Jn ,\^i\' *J^ 
 Christian life is so glorious a life that it demands all you 
 can possibly furnish. It is not a weak life, subsisting on 
 what a man has left over after he has satisfied his own 
 intellectual or professional hunger, but it demands the 
 .„t^_.|g j^,3„_heart. mind, soul, strength— all of him, and 
 then he will not reach the standard of achievement. That 
 is what I look for in you, my dear friends : consecrated 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 225 
 
 young manhood which shows that the source of its power 
 
 LTZ: '?^'"*' ^"^husiastic, useful, untiring' ^ 
 tient, prayerful, strong. ^ 
 
 it not^Z ^°" ""'" '''° ^""^ ^' y°" »° °" '" this life that 
 ^Zstf/n2" t^'^^'^.r' ^-^"d« strength, but also 
 gives strength. You will go from strength to strength 
 The very use of what you start out with wil give fou 
 more. Do you know, the deadest Christians. iLse tha" 
 g.ve a pastor most trouble, are those who hav^ to be car 
 ned along all the time ? They don't exercise hrmuscc 
 God gave them to use, and the minister and the church 
 
 tone'hemT t" ''°"^ ^"' ^^^^'^^ ^'^^ crut hes and 
 tone them up about just so often or they will fall out of 
 
 s^tnAiTl'^ , "''"' ' ™' «<" «= "Jont by this 
 1 recall when I was in college the case of a feeble-lookinc^ 
 
 colIetriatP .rnm«o , 7 j""— -'^^' ^On.pcniors in the inter- 
 
326 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 tainly. Grow in the grace and knowledge of your Lord. 
 
 • They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength 
 
 . they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, 
 
 and not faint.' 
 
 " I want to say a personal word to you on this occa- 
 sion of your public confession of Christ, and your union 
 with this church which represents, I trust, the spirit of 
 the Master as He really was. You have seen with me a 
 mighty outpouring of the Holy Spirit in this city. It has 
 been the most remarkable awakening known to history, 
 unless rwe accept the day of Pentecost. I once never 
 thought to behold such triumphs of God's power among 
 men; but I praise Him to-day that I have seen it. And 
 you will, to the end of your earthly existence, feel that 
 this experience through which you have passed and this 
 occasion which we are now emphasizing are the most 
 memorable in all your lives. The strong power of the 
 Spirit has begun to cease its mighty strength as we have 
 felt it. The flood that overflowed is beginning to subside; 
 but let us remember that the Spirit never leaves us. He 
 is as real in the still, small voice as in the mountain 
 thunder peal. And I do not wish any one of you to 
 imagine that because that tremendous, awful, exuberant 
 Presence no longer animates you, therefore it does not 
 exist. There will come moments of depression in your 
 Christian life. When they come, recall this occasion and 
 this thought : Although God does not always manifest 
 Himself in the same degree of strength, yet He is always 
 the same. His love flows in a constant stream. He will 
 always remain the same. There is no change in His. 
 eternal care over you. The same power which has risen 
 in you like an overwhelming tide still abides in you, and 
 will meet the quiet demand of eveiyday needs just as com- 
 pletely. You will find your joy as Christian disciples 
 growing with the years. I commend you all this day 
 mv vounir brothers, to the loving companionship with 
 the Saviour, which is never weary or distasteful or umn- 
 teresting. And as I welcome you into this church ol 
 
 i^ad 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 227 
 
 ir Lord- 
 strength 
 ill walk, 
 
 lis occa> 
 ir union 
 spirit of 
 ith me a 
 . It has 
 history, 
 ;e never 
 r among 
 it. And 
 feel that 
 and this 
 :he most 
 :r of the 
 we have 
 1 subside; 
 i us. He 
 mountain 
 f you to 
 exuberant 
 does not 
 1 in your 
 asion and 
 manifest 
 is always 
 
 He will 
 
 je in His 
 
 has risen 
 
 you, and 
 
 5t as com- 
 
 disciples 
 
 this day, 
 
 iship with 
 
 i or unin- 
 
 church of 
 
 Christ I do so in the glad belief that the relation between 
 us shall be that of mutual helpfulness, forbearance, and 
 companmnship. ' Bear ye one another's burdens, and 
 so fulfi 1 the law of Christ.' And I know of no other 
 more blessed thought to leave with you than that For 
 ye are strong this day for burden bearing And I have 
 written unto you because you are strong, and have over- 
 come and shall overcome the Evil One. until he shall 
 no more exert his power, until He shall reign King of 
 kmgs and Lord of lords, even that One who said He had 
 overcome the world, our Master. Jesus Christ, the Source 
 of all hvmg strength, to whom be praise in the Church, 
 world without end. Amen." 
 
 In the course of our story we must let two years go 
 
 h^r^ f '"'^u^'"^ '^' '^^"*^ ^^'''^ ^''^ ^ part of the 
 history of our characters. We look into Tom's room at 
 the end of that period and find him eagerly reading a 
 
 rhoXr^a^lTad'TiHir "^ ""^ '°°' '''' ^^^"'^ 
 
 wril?"" °''^k'^*°'?'7^* '' ' ^ '^^ '°"» *™<= «'"« I have , 
 H T'- "* ^ ^'^' ^^^" '^'""^^^ ««d times, and 
 Z^„T ^""^ '*''"^^^ *° ""y*^'"» ^'"t the one task 
 demand,ng my entire attention. Aunt Esther died last 
 week after a very painful illness of a month, during 
 which time no one seemed able to do my duties as a nurse 
 bhe demanded me night and day. Poor, troubled soul! 
 She ,s at rest now! And with her last conscious breath 
 rn/rrTl**''^ l^' ^""^^ *° '"^r care. Tom. I praise 
 
 fr^^ Ta r? ^'" '^'' *° "^^*^" '^' b"'-<J«n °f this 
 frail, tender, helpless woman, and the past year on this 
 edge of the world has been blessed to me! 
 
 for'mI'*rA.^"' ^',T°" ''"^^ ^^^'^'^ ^" '" *«> power 
 Z ""^.f ^^''^y could not be kinder if I were an only 
 
 ^"""^^ "^'" y^ars have imt been empty of results in 
 
 any way. Mr. Bascombe has held service in the school- 
 
228 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 I 
 
 • 
 
 4 
 
 house near us, and also held meetings from house to 
 house in this neighborhood. The result has been that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clayton have both become Christians. This 
 fact has made the friendship between us doubly strong. 
 I am loath to leave them, and they declare that they do 
 not see how they can get along without me. All this is 
 very kind of them, and I feel it keenly, but Mr. Clayton 
 has recovered his health, and I begin to l.ope that I can 
 do better for the boys in the way of giving them an edu- 
 cation by coming back to the city again. I do not know 
 whether you know it or not, but the parishioner of Mr. 
 King's church who sent fifty dollars to me for the use of 
 the family, just »ftei- I reached Colby, has been anxious 
 for some time to provide for the education of one or two 
 of the boys, and has been so constant in the expression 
 of his desire that Mr. King writes me advising me tQ 
 come back to Chicago and put the boys into school there, 
 assuring me that the means will be forthcoming to meet 
 all expenses. I have about determined to act on his 
 advice. I have perhaps been over-sensitive about accept- 
 ing such help from other people, and I may not be serv- 
 ing the Master any better by refusing assistance in this 
 case. I cannot deny that I long to be at my old work 
 again, and I can certainly provide for one of the boys 
 and do my work as well. 
 
 " You understand, Tom, I do not regret my two years 
 out here on this farm. They have been two years of great 
 joy to me. I have nothing with which to reproach my- 
 self. I believe I did just what was right. If I had not 
 come, my aunt would have been forced to the dependence 
 of charity from strangers, and the boys would have been 
 lost, perhaps, to all true manhood. But I am now led 
 to come back for their sakes. I promised Aunt Esther 
 that I would be to them a father and brother as well as 
 cousin, and I have come to love the little fellows very 
 dearly. So if you can look up a cheap place for us, Tom, 
 I will come on in about two weeks and begin the struggle 
 in Chicago again. You will be surprised at me, perhaps. 
 
 :^IBi 
 
THl!-, LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 229 
 
 I have grown a great, fierce beard, and I have the genuine 
 western tan complexion, but my heart is still as tender 
 ior you and all the old friends in the lake city as ever 
 ioon to see you. as always and ever, Dick." 
 
 Tom executed one of his old-time war dances through 
 the room, to the everlasting damage of one of the old- 
 cane-bottomed chairs, through which he put his foot 
 and then, unable to contain himself, he rushed out to 
 liain Street to show the letter to Mr. King The 
 preacher was just stepping out of his house to go down 
 town Tom showed him Richard's letter. King smiled 
 a httle. " Yes ? I had the news from him this morning. 
 He IS a plucky fellow. I can tell you where to find two 
 comfortable and cheap rooms." King gave Tom the 
 address, and Tom started off at once to secure the apart- 
 ments. Kmg called after him: "When did you say 
 Richard would be here ?" 
 " In two weeks." 
 
 .u '! ^^J' !?.^^'^ Thanksgiving time. Write and tell him 
 that John Kmg and his sister will expect him and the 
 three boys to take Thanksgiving dinner with them." 
 
 Mr Ic "^i^!; ''''" "P"'^ '^°'"' ^^° hesitated; and as 
 Mr. King did not say any more, he moved away with a 
 disappointed feeling at something. Mr. King called after 
 
 th!^ L, ^ ""^l' '^°'"' ^°" ™"y ^^y '" ^ postscript 
 
 Didvnirjr''^ '°.*^'' Thanksgiving dinner also. 
 
 v.IZa ""'-T" ^T "°* ^"t«"'gible. and he smiled a 
 very wide smile, with a teardrop at each corner of it as 
 he glanced thankfully at the preacher and then hurried 
 
 nrmble ftef "'"'"" '° ^'^ ^"'^'^ '"^^^'^ °^ ^is own 
 
 The crowninir dav J 
 
 IS coming.' 
 
tV 
 
 fl30 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 But godliness is profitable for all things, having promise 
 of the life which now is, and of that which is to come. 
 —Saint Paul. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day in the city dawned feathery with 
 snow that filled the air and blew in great giant handfuls 
 over the lakeside and river; but the crowd that came out 
 to hear John King at his great church building seemed 
 filled with the spirit of the day, and when ten o'clock 
 struck every seat in the building was taken. It had been 
 his custom for twenty years to deliver on Thanksgiving 
 day in his own church a special sermon which had char- 
 acteristics all its own, so that the occasion had come to 
 be anticipated by all who knew him as one of the rare 
 occasions in the history of that church. This morning, 
 as the preacher walked up to the platform, coming from 
 the audience instead of from the room at the rear of the 
 desk, he seemed particularly happy and earnest, the very 
 type of the best Thanksgiving ever known to a man- 
 praise Tor souls redeemed from the powers of darkness 
 into the light of the Gospel of his dear Master, And as 
 John King turned and faced the splendid congregation, 
 in all the strength of his prime and the height of his 
 power and influence, he had reason to rejoice and give 
 thanks. There sat hundreds of men and women who had 
 been led by his strong, patient, enthusiastic, sweet-willed 
 preaching into the kingdom of God on earth. There sat 
 Adam Tower, who, in the course of his great work for 
 the poor sewing women of America, had been all over 
 the country during the past two years, and now was U 
 the city where his sister had died to secure some neces- 
 sary support from certain business men in Chieaso. 
 There sat, side by side, Tom and Richard, united once 
 
 ^iTfflmt 1 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 231 
 
 more, and the three boys in the same seat, looking up at 
 John King with the grave interest children feel in one 
 who has been mentioned often in their hearing. Richard 
 had arrived two days before, had found the rooms se- 
 lected by Tom to be just what he needed, and with his 
 old chum and the boys had come out to hear his old 
 preacher again before going to the hospitable house on 
 Plam Street to dinner. 
 
 The preacher's sermon had reference to the general 
 condition of prosperity throughout the city, and was, in 
 the mam, a glowing description of the benefits of a prac- 
 tical Christianity to the world on all sides of its activity. 
 His text clearly showed the meaning of his subject, which 
 he stated to be " The Heaven of Earth." 
 
 " But godliness is profitable for all things, having 
 promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to 
 come." 
 
 " We live in two worlds, my brothers : the physical 
 and the spiritual. One is just as real as the other, and in 
 the sight of the all-loving Father one is just as important 
 and interesting as the other. And it is His will that the 
 joy of the spiritual world should begin here in this world 
 It was our Lord's will that the human race should be 
 happy here. He did not teach that all dif!iculties and 
 troubles and sorrows would be sometime banished for- 
 ever from the earth. He taught that even the righteous 
 shoulu have tribulations; but He also taught us to pray 
 that God s kingdom would come, and His will be done 
 in earth as in heaven; and He also taught that if men 
 would first seek the kingdom of God they would have the 
 necessaries and comforts of physical life. In other words 
 we find the real and only answer to the problem of hap- 
 piness in human society is godliness, which is profitable 
 unto all things. We have only to look at our own city 
 to see how true this teaching it. Consider the absence 
 of poverty or hardship within our comm»n.>v rnmn,«d 
 with a period two years ago, or before the great re'vival 
 blessed us so wonderfully. There are hundreds of men 
 
iir^ 
 
 Uium unll'UM^HWJj '-' iy 
 
 232 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 iV 
 
 in this audience this morning who will bear me witness 
 that dissipation and intemperance had ruined them, de- 
 stroyed their business and their homes, and left them 
 wrecks on the social beach, dead, without honor. No- 
 thing but godliness has made those men prosper again. 
 But the city as a whole stands to-day at the highest point 
 it ever reached in unselfish prosperity. There is a pros- 
 perity which is the result of one man's cheating or rob- 
 bing another. That used to characterize our wealth two 
 or three years ago. There were thousands of men mak- 
 ing money in this city, but they were making it out of 
 the distress of other men. They were robbers. They 
 built splendid houses and invested vast sums in helping 
 to give the city a palatial appearance to the stranger. 
 But thousands of men were suffering from their unjust 
 and selfish accumulations. To-day there are more happy 
 and well-to-do men in this city than were ever before 
 known, and of the great majority I believe it can be truly 
 said they have honestly and unselfishly made their homes 
 what they are. And this is one of the things I am thank- 
 ful for to-day — that the breath of God swf^pt over us and 
 we paused in our feverish struggle for the almighty dollar 
 and learned the lesson of godliness. That has done more 
 for us than centuries of trade or political economy. .1 
 was talking with one of our strongest and most respected 
 business men yesterday, and he said to me that he re- 
 garded that revival of more importance to our commercial 
 prosperity and continued happiness than any event that 
 ever occurred in all our history. He said the discontent 
 of the wage-earners had grown so strong, the selfishness 
 of the rich men in the city had become so unbounded, 
 that the strike, which came so near precipitating a revo- 
 lution, was but the forerunner of an uprising v.hich would 
 have spread all over the nation like a prairie fire swept 
 on by a high /wind. God spoke to us, and we heeded, and 
 we have been blessed since then. Is it not true, my 
 brothers that we owe our present un'^aralleled freedom 
 from dissatisfaction and distress to the regeneration of 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 233 
 
 our human nature that took place here two years ago ?" 
 ihe appeal was made so naturally that half a dozen 
 men m the audience spoke aloud, " Yes. it's true I '' wi^h 
 an emphasis that provoked a series of -Amens!' from 
 a over the house. John King smiled. He d"d not o di" 
 anly des.re mterruptions or applause, but to day L 
 seemed to be on such familiar terms with his p opl th^ 
 he could not well prevent the demonstration of feel n^ 
 As he continued, this feeling grew and gave Use f xpes" 
 s.on, not m any noisy or vulgar formf but n the sup 
 
 Our greatest reason for thanksgiving to-day is eod 
 hness m our nation and city. I look back over he period 
 of my connection with this church and ,> =1J! f 
 that goodness is the only thinSr "' '\ TJlyliZ 
 us true happiness. The wages of . death T.A 
 
 T r!nT', , ^"'^ *°-'''''y ^"^' '^^ok into your faces 
 
 1 fe ^hich'l 7 '''' "" '"" ^°^^ °"t - praise forth; 
 
 leliL hJ '' '''" ^^°" "^' '^"^' «"d I cannot help 
 leelmg that our nation s !)effinnino- tn r«oi; 
 
 before the value of Christianity a" "lectin. 7/', "'"' 
 dition of men I hav^ K.«J if ^"^''^'"« the daily con- 
 
 aasy.goi„g :;,; Ju„ ' I I3 ^tZ it ^-^''■"\- 
 
 nevod in preaching ,he Gospel otpe \Z f ThTo " 
 
 ngs, the preacher who s not a cheerful hnr.J i . 
 
 is not preaching Christ, whatever eseL - '^''''^ 
 
 tta, salvation i,, ,„ poLrfnnr.his „"„'„ h trft' 
 now is, as Pan! „,„• ••, t..... ,_ 7 '""' '" ">= !''« that 
 
 a good deal of 
 
 untruth 
 
 as Paul puts it. There has been 
 
 > ''-^^^T,;::::^.r:;7^]'s:"^^. '« 
 
 s# 
 
 IS 
 
 't IS a pro- 
 
arm 
 
 234 
 
 RICHARD BRUCB; OR, 
 
 mise of the life that now is. I am thankful to-day not 
 only for the heaven of the next world, but for the heaven 
 of this. And just so far as the world will turn to God as 
 revealed in Christ, just so far it will be blessed in food, 
 clothing, shelter, comforts, sources of happiness. 
 
 " The world has been startled this last week by the 
 report, which ^seemed to be well verified, that nearly 
 thirty millions of human beings in the empire of Russia 
 are in great danger of starving to death. If they do starve 
 to death, what will be the cause ? Lack of crops ? Un- 
 avoidable combinations of circumstances ? Nay; but let 
 God answer and say to every man in Russia, from the 
 proud Czar on his throne to the humblest subject in his 
 wide realm, ' Your iniquities have been the cause of this 
 gigantic suffering.' For the earth is full of plenty, and 
 those who have must minister from their abundance to 
 those who have not. And to that haughty ruler and his 
 scheming ministers the God of justice will say, ' Great 
 is your power, great will be your responsibility in an- 
 swering for this evil.' Ah, we have been very eager in 
 this country to search out schemes for overturning 
 wrongs and hardship and abolishing poverty. But after 
 all there is no better answer to all the desire of the phil- 
 anthropist and the reformer than obedience to the Golden 
 Rule. Godliness is profitable unto all things, and thanks 
 be to Him this day we have seen that proved in our own 
 history! You who remember when your hearts first beat 
 to the rhythm of Salvation's hymn can bear me witness 
 that your thanksgiving song to-day is the gladdest song 
 you ever sang, because righteousness has come to be 
 your daily breath. Yes, we sing praises to-day for a 
 thousand blessings, but not one of them is ^qual to the 
 one gift of Jesus Christ to the world. He taught the- 
 world the value of the inner life, the emptiness of earthly 
 possessions without godliness. He made it possible for 
 us to worship here to-day in hope of the life to come, 
 because we already begin io feci that Hie here. And so 
 let us all be preachers of that same Gospel to our neigh- 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 235 
 
 bors and to all the world. Let us emphasize upon the 
 heart of the race the fact that at the base of all true and 
 lasting prosperity is godlikeness or godliness. 
 
 " The best statesmanship, my young friends, you who 
 are entenng on political careers, is statesmanship based 
 on eternal righteousness. Remember that when you are 
 elected to Congress, and act accordingly. You will pro- 
 bably lose your seat at the next election if you act out 
 your Christianity to the letter, but if every Christian 
 young man who goes into public life persists in carrying 
 his personal Christianity into legislation, the time will 
 come when none but Christian men shall be making our 
 laws, because they will be the best laws ever made. Let 
 us be thankful to-day that a power does exist greater 
 than the machine m politics. That power is felt even now 
 by the politicians themselves. It is the everlasting poweT 
 of God in history. It is the righteousness of everyday Tife 
 in everyday men that the public knows is the right and 
 demands as right. We live under God's government 
 after al . Sometimes we think we don't; but we do And 
 I am thankfu for that above all things else, that into tie 
 
 fl^^T tu '^ "^f" ""^ '"*° *h« nervousness and irri! 
 tability of the men of selfish ambitions God strikes silence 
 in many ways, and in none so powerfully as by His 
 Spirit. Men do not know what it is. They call it PuWic 
 Opinion. They call it Expediency. They call Mo ll 
 Force. But by whatever name they call it, it is but on 
 
 o? CnH 'TuT''' '"''y''^'''' '* '^ the mighty Spiri 
 of God which always exists in history like the regular 
 tide of an ocean, and its existence, like that of the «de 
 IS shown in the regular pulse-beat of the waves as hev 
 nse and fall, irresistible, periodical, customary. But there 
 are times when larger billows roll in and the tide rile! 
 over all marks that have been familiar even to the oM 
 men who watch the sea. and there is an awful mis v * 
 
 ! r;l^^!!!!!^°^ ^^'^^ -^-^^ -^ louder :L7j:z 
 
 ..n.. ir,.... tic.x.cnuuus grows the thunder of the surf T»,» 
 storm birds fly inland, and the eyes of anxious fisherfolk's 
 
236 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 wives look through salt tears out through the salt mist 
 and spray of their husbands' funeral shrouds as they wave 
 in the gale. And the hurricane hurls the ocean on the 
 land, and we bow our hearts in terror before its wild 
 fury. But it was the ocean that did it all. That power 
 was latent in it on a summer day, and after the tempest 
 had blown itself out and swept the sky clear of every ray 
 of cloud and it beat tranquilly on the beach once more, 
 softly creeping up the sand and rocks so as scarcely to 
 disturb a slender, delicate sea anemone from its hanging 
 garden in a crystal pool left by the last tide upon a ledge 
 — even then, the same power which abode within the spirit 
 of the gray old sea when roused to a display of her might 
 was in her still. Even so, the Spirit of God has always 
 been present in the world. Men have not seen His 
 might displayed as often as they have seen His quiet 
 strength. But God's fair days are more plenty than His 
 storms. The tempests are the exception in the spiritual 
 as in the physical world. Old sailors will tell you that 
 gales at sea are far fewer than the quiet days. Yet happy 
 they who have passed through a storm. 'Tis well to see 
 that power displayed. We then respect more fully the 
 real existence of what perhaps before we half believed. 
 Thank God on this Thanksgiving day that God bared 
 His strong right arm and shook this selfish city with an 
 earthquake shock of power that vibrates through our 
 entire business and municipal life yet! And let us make 
 this day vocal with that praise which thanks God for the 
 past by making the present give large promise of the 
 future. In our homes to-day, during the glad reunions 
 of the families that reverence mother and home and coun- 
 try, and the Bible and the Christ, let us believe and act 
 on the belief that it is God's great will that His 
 kingdom come and His will be done in earth as if 
 is in heaven, in the life that now is as well as 
 in the life that is to come. And in that life to come we 
 shall not be ashamed to join our voices in the new soncr 
 which those shall sing who have overcome the evil in this 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 237 
 
 world. Let us rise and sing * Praise God, from whom all 
 blessings flow '!" 
 
 Richard and Tom waited after the service to walk 
 home with their host, and Adam Tower also lingered to 
 shake hands and say Godspeed. John King had not seen 
 his old enemy in the congregation, and he was delighted 
 to greet him again. Tower had grown more than two 
 years older in the two yc s past, but his frame was still 
 rugged and his carriage erect. His face bore marks of 
 sorrow and had stern lines in it, but his eye was peaceful 
 with the inner rest that belongs to the new man in Christ. 
 
 "Now, then, '" • r, you must come home with me 
 and the boys an . dinner." Tower made some little 
 
 remonstrance, bui iving would not hear to it, and march- 
 ed him off, and after a brisk walk through the storm they 
 reached Plain Street, and were welcomed by John King's 
 sister, who always prepared for one more guest and had, 
 indeed, placed three extra plates and chairs at table, 
 knowing her brother's habits from long experience. The 
 guests were soon seated, and it was during the dinner and 
 after it, while seated around the one wide fireplace in the 
 drawing-room, that the brief talks occurred which are so 
 often among the brightest memories of Thanksgiving 
 d ay. 
 
 " There is going to be trouble at this table before this 
 dinner is disposed of," said John King gravely, as he 
 began carving the turkey, " because there are two Toms 
 and two Dicks and old Adam and young Harry. How 
 will you fellows know whom I am talking to when I say, 
 'Tom, have a little more of the white meat'?" 
 
 " I don't think there will be any trouble about that, 
 sir," answered the older Tom, looking across the table 
 at his young namesake. "I shall pass my plate every 
 time I hear my name called, and by the looks of the 
 young Dakotian there as he contemplates the leg of that 
 turkey I am much mistaken if he doesn't mean to do the 
 same." 
 
238 
 
 RIf lARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 "I don't care for white meat," replied the younger 
 Tom decidedly; " but I'd like a leg and some potato and 
 turnip and plenty of stuffing," 
 
 Even Tower relaxed his stern features in the general 
 laugh that followed this frank announcement, while King, 
 delighted at the natural boldness of the request said, " By 
 general consent of the house the younger members shall 
 be served first, and in order to avoid possible confusion 
 I will designate the boys as number one, two, and three. 
 Tom, you are one, Dick, you are two, and Harry, you are 
 three ;^ so don't you reply unless you hear your number. 
 I can't call the older boys anything but my old names 
 for tnem, Tom and Dick. Here you are, number one, 
 with your leg and potato and turnip and plenty of stuff- 
 ing.^ Now, what'll' you have, number two ?" 
 
 " I'll have the other leg." replied number two 
 promptly; and his order was filled by King, to the gen- 
 eral applause of the now merry table. 
 
 "And now, number three, it's your turn," continued 
 Kmg with a twinkle turning to Harry; " what'll you 
 have, my son ?" 
 
 " I'll have a leg, too," replied the boy, with the most 
 unbounded faith in the big man that he could give him 
 what he wanted; and to the astonishment of every one 
 except Harry, King stuck his fork into another leg which 
 had lain concealed under one side of the turkey. There 
 IS no need of saying that John King's sister, who knew 
 the weakness of small boys for turkey legs, had managed . 
 to roast two turkeys, and so put three legs on one platter 
 This was a remarkable bird," continued King with 
 the utmost gravity. " We rescued it just as it was about 
 to be sacrificed to the necessities of a dime museum for 
 curiosities, for being the only turkey in the world ever 
 born with three legs. It has always been something of a 
 puzzle to me that turkeys were bipeds instead of quad- 
 rupeds. The supply, especially in a family of boys is 
 never equal to the demand." ' 
 
 The conversatidri became general. Richard had much 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 239 
 
 IS 
 
 to tell of his experience on the farm. He was fully de- 
 veloped now, and his big beard gave him quite a dis- 
 tinguished air Tom declared his intention to go into the 
 beard-raising business at once. " It's almost necessary 
 to look distinguished if you can, on the new daily," he 
 said by way of explanation. " The corps of contributors 
 is becoming so famous that any one connected with the 
 paper is expected to be well known for something." 
 
 "The paper is a splendid success," said Richard. 
 " You would be surprised to know how generally it is 
 making friends in the northwest. It is by all odds the 
 best general paper in the country to-day." 
 
 " That's true," added Tower. "I have been in every 
 state and territory in the west, and there is a general 
 demand for the religious daily all over the country. It 
 has proved a great source of education and power to mil- 
 lions of people." 
 
 " It certainly has succeeded beyond my hopes, great 
 as they were," remarked King modestly. " It is a great 
 source of thanksgiving to me to-day that Christianity has 
 captured this powerful servant of modern times and put 
 it to work. The wisdom of the movement has been 
 proved by the results. There will be an international 
 issue begun next year. Simultaneous editions of The 
 Christian will be sent out at the same time all over the 
 world. Thus the press will supplement in a most pow- 
 erful way the work of the pulpit and the home. One 
 grand result of this enterprise has already begun to be 
 seen in the growing popularity for strong, interesting, 
 and thoughtful writers in religious articles. I predict a 
 coming generation of the most enthusiastic and brainy 
 writers of religious literature the world has even seen. 
 Dick, we want you to give us a rousing good story for 
 the daily soon. The directors authorized me to make you 
 a good offer for a serial, and I saved it up for the Thanks- 
 giving dinner. So you can begin to oil up your works 
 just as soon as you recover from that chicken pie." 
 
 This was a characteristic of John King's— to surprise 
 
240 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 his friends in this oflf-hand, unexpected manner. Richard 
 looked his thanks and spoke them warmly. 
 
 " I had thought of applying for my old place on The 
 Monthly Visitor as soon as I had the boys started off to 
 school, and I have one or twc articles that I hope to 
 dispose of to keep the pot boiling at the start." 
 
 "We need you on The Christian, Richard, so you 
 might as well get ready to join the corps of famous con- 
 tributors of which Tom is one. But first "give tjs the 
 story, and then we'll see if we want you on the paper." 
 
 "All right; I'll do my best." And Richard almost 
 lost his appetite in his exultation at the prospect before 
 him, of becoming one of the writers for the best paper 
 m the country, a^d reaching with his work more lives 
 than could possibly be reached through arv other 
 medium. 
 
 King was in his merriest mood all through the dinner, 
 but when the little company adjourned to the drawing- 
 room he succeeded in getting Tower to tell his experi- 
 ence of the last two years. It was a thrilling s! jry, and 
 even the youngsters listened with open-eyed interest to 
 a recital of adventures and escapes and fights w'^h mon- 
 opolies and selfish manufacturers. Tower had fousht the 
 evils of the sweaters' shops in almost every big city in 
 America, and thousands of the despairing women looked 
 to him as their deliverer. But the evil was not by any 
 means done away with. Tower related in his terse, almost 
 abrupt, style an incident of the week before in a neigh- 
 boring city. 
 
 " I found," he said, " one man who made it his boast 
 that he had the largest number of pairs of pants made for 
 a certain low price of any shop in the city. I went to see 
 him. He received me very politely until I gave him my 
 name; then he looked black as a thunder cloud and 
 ordered me out of his shop. There were poor creatures 
 m that hell's tenement that crouched down over their 
 work in terror at the man. I never felt more like choking 
 me life out of a human devil. And I was powerless. 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 241 
 
 I had no law to put in operation against his case. He 
 knew it and defied me. Yes," said Tower slowly, " he 
 followed me to the head of the stairs and flung one epithet 
 at me that touched the honor of the women in his employ, 
 and even desecrated the name of my dead sister, and I 
 turned »>Hck and shook him until he screamed for mercy. 
 I could not help it. No; the old Adam is not quite out 
 of me yet. ' Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the 
 Lord '; but sometimes I cannot help feeling that perhaps 
 the Lord will repay through a willing agent like me, or 
 some other man who thirsts, not for vengeance, but for 
 justice. That night, while going home from a meeting 
 where I had spoken on the subjeoc of the sweating sys- 
 tem, I was shot at twice by some unknown person and a 
 lock of my hair with a piece of the skin was taken off by 
 a ball." Tower showed th'. place to the boys, who in- 
 sisted on seeing the very spot. He then went on : " It 
 isn't the first time I've been shot at; but if God wills that 
 I give my life in this work I can say nothing but Amen 
 to it. It is my life-work, and I shall stay at it until the 
 condition of the sewing woman is a condition that cannot 
 provoke the terrible vengeance of God on a people that 
 through its cruel competitive selfishness makes possibl. 
 m a Christian land one of the curses of the darkest 
 paganism." 
 
 The conversation took a more serious turn from this 
 narrative, and Richard had many questions to ask of 
 lower concernmg his life, and Tom and King discussed 
 a few of the newer featiires of the paper, until King sud- 
 denly jumped up and exclaimed : 
 
 " We are breaking the proclamation by indulging in 
 our ordinary avocations. Let's have some games with 
 the youngF-er. here, who can't understand all this serious 
 side of life. Come, Tom, if you didn't eat so much that 
 you are unable to move, start off something." 
 
 A simple game was soon in progress, and in the midst 
 of !t the bell rang. King jumped up off the fioor where 
 he had been lying down during some part of an absurd 
 
24a 
 
 RICHAKD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 tableau devised by Tom, while the younger boys walked 
 up and down on his prostrate body, and, nothing abashed, 
 ^ went to the door himself. There stood a group of young 
 men and women of Mr. King's church and parish, and 
 the minute the door was open they rushed 'n on the 
 astonished preacher, and, ranging themselves through the 
 well-warmed hall, immediately began a Thanksgiving 
 song, sung so sweetly and heartily that the house rang 
 with it again and again. Then, before John King could 
 say a word, one of the girls came forward and made a 
 neat little speech, beginning it by saying : " This is not 
 a donation party, Mr. King, but a Thanksgiving service 
 which your churqh delegated us to render. You have 
 been ministering all these years to the life of the city, and 
 to none of it more happily than to the growing young 
 life. We are very happy to ask you to accept this little 
 Thanksgiving token from the church and the city through 
 us, as representatives of the great numbers who have been 
 taught the noble meaning of the Christian life by you." 
 
 The speaker presented King with a pen, the holder 
 of which had once belonged to the most famous preacher 
 of the last century. This holder, which had been in the 
 possession of one of King's older parishioners, was given 
 the young people, who knew that nothing they could buy 
 would have such value to their pastor. 
 
 He was very much tot -hed by the event; but mas- 
 tering his emotion he -eplied simply but heartily. The 
 delegation at once mav.c a move to go, but John King, 
 recovering his old-time humor, begged them to stay and 
 have a few games. The invitation was accepted, and for 
 an hour No. 56 Plain Street was the scene of some very 
 animated fun. The storm without, increasing in fury as 
 the day drew to a close, only made the wide old rooms 
 and the gayety of the company within more attractive. 
 At last the company departed, leaving the preacher and 
 his dinner guests exhausted with laughter and ready to 
 settle down around the open fire again 
 
 Candles were brought in, although it -as only a little 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 243 
 
 after four, and King went up to his study for a fe / min- 
 utes, excusing himself on the ground of some necessary 
 preparation for the evening. When he came down, he 
 was quiet, and all the others felt the change in him. He 
 was not sad, but the mirth of the day had given place to 
 a deeper feeling. He sat down by the side of Tower and 
 spoke as he once did in Richard's hearing, almost as if 
 he were alone and was talking to himself. 
 
 " My mother died on the evening of Thanksgiving 
 day. I made a vow that every time the day came around 
 1 would, m honor of her blessed memory, make the day 
 long to be remembered by some poor or needy or des- 
 painng soul For the past ten years I have gone out on 
 the street after dark on Thanksgiving and invited in to 
 the house here a number of poor creatures who were 
 apparently homeless and hungry and friendless. It is 
 true we have an admirable system of charities; it is true 
 we have not the hundredth part of the street misery we 
 once ached to look upon; but spite of all that Christian 
 charity has done or can do, there is still much suffering 
 even. w.nter. Will you go out with me to-night and help 
 me to find some hungry guests ? My sister will be pre- 
 paring the dinner while we are gone " 
 
 In a few minutes the host and his guests were ready 
 bundled up for a long tramp. The storm was raging wUh 
 greater fury now as darkness closed in over the city The 
 
 Tnhn l^-""" "^"^f '? ^' ""^^^'^ ^° «° ^'th the men, and 
 John King was for letting them go, but on stepping out 
 on the front porch he found the storm so serious that h^ 
 had to tell the children that they must stay wit^ his s'ste 
 until the men returned. So he and Tower, Tom and 
 
 wiirW r °"* -^^''^^ '"*° ^ ^"y fi^'-'^^ «t°'-'" that 
 ^fwt ?', f """^ '" ^^"*^'*'" "^'^^'^^ ^'•°'" the corners 
 of high buildings and caught it up into its weird dance 
 and reeled it through the streets as if reckless and defiant 
 ot all man s civilization. 
 
 It was a wild night, and to Tom and Richard it had 
 the sense of adventure in it. To the end of their lives 
 
244 
 
 , RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 
 they could never forget that experience. They were 
 under the spell of the storm and the cause that had 
 brought them out into it; and they followed the tall form 
 of Kmg as side by side with Tower he plunged through 
 the snow, gradually leaving the better-lighted and more 
 crowded portion of the city. 
 
 They were in the neighborhood of the river now, and 
 in passmg by one of the cheap restaurants that was open 
 for custom they saw three or four children near the 
 lighted window in which were displayed a few articles 
 of food. The preacher stopped and spoke to the children. 
 Ihey turned and looked at him with the sharp, inquisi- 
 tive look of city-bred children who have been brought 
 up in a hard schdol, which turns out premature shrewd- 
 ness. King understood child nature as well as any man 
 in America. He understood this kind of child nature 
 too— understood very fully how sharp and vulgar and 
 cruel It could be. In the present instance he beheld the 
 real suffering beneath the bravado and coarseness that 
 the children assumed. Poor wretched creatures! He 
 said a few words to them and they grew eager. Tom and 
 Richard could not hear all that was said. The storm beat 
 severely on the corner. But in a few moments the chil- 
 dren seemed to place implicit confidence in the tall man 
 with the wonderful dark eyes and the tender smile, and 
 they moved along with him as he turned down another 
 street, the others following. 
 
 It was two hours before the party appeared in front 
 of No. s6 Plain Street. The storm was then at its height, 
 and ten of the most wretched creatures in all that cit^' 
 were with Kflng, Tower, Tom, and Richard, having been 
 persuaded to accept the preacher's invitation to com.e to 
 a warm place and have a Thanksgiving dinner. There 
 were five children, three boys and two girls, one of whom 
 being a cripple, John King had carried all the way in his 
 arms. Then there were two young men who had been 
 found in front of a saloon. One of them was remon- 
 strating with the other about going in again. During the 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 245 
 
 remonstrance King invited them both to come and take 
 dinner with him. One of them was slightly intoxicated, 
 but his friend thought he would be all right if he didn't 
 drink any more. There were two older men who looked 
 like professional tramps, and perhaps were, but they 
 were hungry to the eye and sense of anybody, and the 
 scanty garments they wore would not have kept a dog 
 warm on such a night. And lastly there was an old and 
 very ugly woman who had been discovered half lying 
 and half sitting on the steps of a cheap hotel, and crying 
 out something about her daughter who was at work in 
 the hotel, and for whom she was waiting to speak a word 
 and get a few cents to buy a little coal. She was so com- 
 pletely numbed from exposure to the storm that John 
 King wrapped about her a heavy shawl which had bee- 
 taken along for emergencies, and had assisted her almost 
 every step of the way to Plain Street, 
 
 John King's sister was ready for the strange crowr* 
 as it came in, and the odd group of guests halted awk- 
 wardly in the hall, dazed at the experience, but beginning 
 to feel already the delightful warmth and refinement of 
 that Christian home. John King was equal to any emer 
 gency. Before the strangely assorted crowd had time t< 
 recover from their bewilderment they were seated at ; 
 long table covered with Thanksgiving plenty. The chil- 
 dren were seated near the head of the table, over which 
 the preacher presided, the little cripple at his right. Tom 
 and Richard and Tower served with Mr. King's sister as 
 waiters, and Tom, Dick, and Harry were sandwiched in 
 at the table along with the street guests, at whom they 
 cast many looks of undisguised interest, and seemed tf 
 consider the whole thing in the light of a show, but with 
 great complacency, inasmuch as they were admitted to 
 the table to share in the second feast of the day. 
 
 How those poor creatures did eat— the two tramps 
 especially! One of them nudged the other with his elbow 
 {literally, his elbow, as it stuck out through a rent in his 
 
246 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 almost sleeveless coat) and said, "This beats all the free 
 hs mouth full, a reply more eloquent than whole volumes 
 
 a at b'Tr^h'"''"- . \' ^'' "°^ ^ "«-d — "" 
 mnnit'v thVh "^""f"^ ^°^" ^'"^ '* represented hu- 
 Rave UD H ,Vr'""\^°'" "'^''^^ ^'^ ^^'^ «"d Saviou 
 
 When nobody, not even the two tramps could ^,f . 
 rnore.__John King rose and said a few si^^pin'otdT He' 
 
 " My friends, I have not invited you here simolv to 
 g ve you one meal and then send you out in o tiTstor^ 
 of life that always beats through a big dtv buVl T? 
 have vou f^pj ft,o<. t .1 • . ^ ^' °"' ' wish to 
 
 have been redeemenr ^' "'^^* ^°"'' P^^^'"°"« «°"I« 
 -vc oeen redeemed from sin and shame bv th*. T «r^ 
 
 Jesus Christ. And all the rest of the yeaTandflr .h 
 mainder of your lives I wisn you to feel that T l '" 
 sjmply one of the servants of ChH^? sh , t e 'an"d rr" 
 for your salvation and better living. I want to Wn. 
 before you leave this house, if you are willTng to teH me' 
 
 live. »o o„/h, ,; w "d c„e% r;h".:V"7'' *" 
 
 u» and accept „s in.o Th, greaj I d tnl^o've S 
 
 Mess all rt«I T T"" °' "" ■*""' "« '""ch Thee 
 le sane ... ,hen mothers, who once perhaps 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS. 
 
 247 
 
 joyed over them and were proud of them in their inno- 
 cence ; we pray for them that they give Thee their 
 strength before it is wasted in sin. The older ones, dear 
 Lord, bring them to Thee. They may cry to Thee to- 
 night in their need. Hear, Thou Almighty \> - scue and 
 regenerate all men. And, blessed Master, may ih nother 
 whom we found in such trouble calling ler cbild'i name 
 in vain, be comforted, as she, a child I ert If, sha. call 
 on Thee and find an instant answer and h> ;■ liear' never 
 be cold again from despair or neglect. And hen, O lov- 
 ing Saviour, lay Thy hands again on these children and 
 tenderly bless them, for Thou lovest them dearly. And 
 may this feeble one here (John King laid his hand on the 
 head of the little cripple with a gesture of infinite com- 
 passion) be carried in Thy arms, nearest to Thee because 
 her need is greatest. Protect us all, dear Lord, from the bit- 
 ter storms of life. May we all find refuge in the mansions 
 of the Father's house. And when our work here has been 
 done, when we have done what we can for Thee and for 
 our neighbors, when we have shed our tears and borne 
 our sorrows and carried the griefs of earth's troubled ones 
 for the allotted time in the life that now is, receive us all 
 into that glorious abode in the life that is to come, where 
 we shall not hunger any more, and where sorrow and 
 sighing shall flee away, and God Himself shall wipe every 
 tear from our eyes. We ask it for Thy dear sake. Amen." 
 AH the heads at the table were bowed. The storm 
 roared through the streets and the driven clouds of sleet 
 and snow sifted up against the v/indow and the wind 
 shrieked as if longing to enter. But tl ., long room, light- 
 ed with the candles on this one night in the year, con- 
 tained, in the hush of that simple prayer, a humanity 
 that felt the power of something greater than any out- 
 door storm. The earnest face of Richard seemed lofty 
 with purpose to do great things in the world for his Mas- 
 ter.^ The face of Tom was wet with tears, and his heart 
 praised God for all the way in which his life had been 
 led, and he looked out with hope for large service in the 
 
248 
 
 RICHARD BRUCE; OR, 
 
 him many davs tn rJ« e ■ ^, ^f^ ^"^t ^od would use 
 
 v^ill go on with the work of "th! 1/ t ' ''''^"'^ ^^^^ 
 '". 'o^a. i„ p..::5 ;"!; .'0":.':^ *4?°"; ■'■li'-f - 
 
'Ml