UNCLE CARL SUREV THE LIBRARY, OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF Mrs. Ben B. Lindsey r UNCLE CARL BY SUREV New York and Washington THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 1908 Copyright, 1908, by The Neale Publishing Company. DEDICATION To all to whom personal honor, in small as well as in great things; to whom sincerity and truth are of the first 'value, ranking far ahead of the world's applause, this history is dedicated by THE AUTHOR. PREFACE In presenting to you the character of Carl Engle- wood it is not our purpose to hold him up as the ideal of a perfect man by any means ; but he was one who through many trying years struggled earnestly and faithfully to so order his life that he could honestly feel that he would leave the world better because of his part in it. He was not different from other men in any marked degree, save in that he, perhaps, had more of the courage of conviction than is shown by the average man, in little as well as in great things. "Sincerity" was his watchword; "Love" was his mo- tive; and though many will disagree with his con- clusions, and perhaps regret that these sterling quali- ties were so strongly manifested by one over whom the "church" exercised so little control, we yet hope and believe that his life-influence was not in vain, if because of it tolerance and good will toward all men shall be increased; if the reader shall feel a more emphatic respect for an honest man no matter what his creed. We make no apology for beginning our effort with so sad a chapter. It was written by Carl Englewood himself, for a purpose that is fully explained in a letter which accompanied it, and which we have placed in Chapter XXVIII. It was this manuscript that appealed most strongly to us, and was the incen- tive to write "Uncle Carl's" history at length. Most of the important incidents recorded herein were matters of personal knowledge to us; and es- pecially conversant were we with the earlier life and mental struggles of our friend. SUREV. UNCLE CARL CHAPTER I "Irene calls for you, Carl. Will you come now? Mrs. Denton's voice roused Carl Englewood from his abstraction. Poor fellow ! For hours he had paced up and down the long hallway; dreading the summons, yet longing to be with the one who, lying on her last sick-bed, had been to him the sweetest dream of life. In the early morning she had fallen into a slumber, and her mother feeling that he should husband his strength for the great trial, now so near had insisted that he should lie down in his room; promising to call him when Irene awakened. For two days he had not slept, nor scarcely tasted food. For two days he had watched the flame of life as it slowly waned, and shuddered with dread as he thought that each moment brought him nearer to that great darkness of the "valley of shadows." He had gone to his room, but not to "rest." Rest! While her dear life was ebbing away? He, rest? As well ask the mother to rest who sees her babe in an eagle's talons borne away to the mountain crag. As well try to soothe the storm-tossed waves of the sea, or quiet the thunders of the hurricane, as for him to seek rest. The four walls of his room seemed to press him; the air to stifle him. Throwing up the window he leaned far out and looked with dim eyes at the dismal dawn. The sky was overcast with clouds and a drizzling rain falling. Through the morning mists he saw a few laborers splashing on to their day's work, and he thought with envy that they had their homes and their dear ones to labor for; and that at night when they returned they would find 12 UNCLE CARL their little circles complete, and would sit with them gathered around, a,nd would talk over the day's joys and sorrows, and give and receive sympathy, and plan for the future. Aye, they could rest. But, he I To think what the night would bring to him ! He, rest! He turned from the window, his hair dripping with moisture, and seeking the hall had begun his walk, up and down; his slow footsteps beating time to his gloomy thoughts until they seemed to resolve themselves into one rhythmic repetition "I rene must die; I rene must die"; up and down; up and down. Oh! the agony of it. Oh! the pity. No more sweetness in life for him ! What had the future now that he cared for! "I rene must die." Much could be done with her by his side. Doubtless he would do much yet, in time, but the joy of it would be gone. For him there could be no more brightness. Her dear lips would never smile a welcome home for him; her eyes never light up with pride at his successes; she would never soothe with her dear sympathy the hours of darkness and sorrow. And so, on and on, his thoughts wandered ; and ever his feet seemed to tread the weary words of agony, until, late in the afternoon, her mother called him to her with the words "Irene calls for you, Carl. Will you come now?" With an effort he recalled his wandering senses, and exerting his strong will he calmed his features, and with a stifled moan entered the chamber which contained his dear treasure; not again to leave it until the light should have gone out of her eyes, leaving him in that utter darkness which only those intense natures, whose lives are earnest in all things, can feel. UNCLE CARL 13 The room where she lay was a fit nest for the pure character of its mistress. All the surroundings spoke of innocence, and beauty, and love. Not the luxuries of the rich, but, rather, the comforts of the well-to-do were there. But they all bore the marks of a dainty touch and of a tasteful selection, which only a woman can give. A room of comfortable size, well lighted by three large windows; a few pictures on the walls; a shelf covered with the little knick- knacks and keepsakes of girlhood days; a bookcase in one corner filled with well-worn books; a few easy chairs; a table and work-basket; and, in an alcove, partially concealed by dainty lace curtains, the bed completed the inventory of its furnishings. The doctor and Irene's father and mother were the only ones in the room with her as Carl entered and seated himself near the head of the bed. The patient seemed to have fallen asleep again; and as he watched her quiet breathing and noted the grow- ing shadows which betokened the nearer and nearer approach of the "Grim Spectre," he realized as he had not before the great sorrow awaiting him. Pres- ently Irene opened her eyes; eyes in whose depths one could almost see the heaven soon to be hers, and her whole soul seemed to speak to the anxious lover as he bent over her and softly caressed the delicate hand held out to him. "Oh, Carl," she said, "don't look so sober! Don't you think that you ought to- be just a wee little bit ashamed of yourself to be so naughty when I want you to look pleasant?" And with a dainty touch she tried to draw the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. "There!" she cried, as he forced a cheery look; "now you are nice again. Now, Carlie boy, I want 14 UNCLE CARL you to look just like that when when I look down at you from our star." "Mother, dear," she said after a pause, "I wish that I could be alone with my big boy just a little while; he needs an awful lecture, and I want to talk to him just a wee bit." As Mrs. Denton, motioning to her husband and the doctor, was about to pass out of the room Irene called to her again, "Kiss me, mother, dear," she said "and don't you be jealous of my big boy, because your little girl loves you. Oh, how she loves you ! But then, she loves him too; and, oh, my! he does need such a talking to," and with a wan smile the mother stooped to kiss her child, murmuring a prayer to her God for her darling as she did so. "Now, dear," said Irene, as the door closed softly after them, "I am going to be very serious. First, though, I want you to know how happy I am. I am happy about everything but you. I know that I shall not be with you very long; I believe that only a few hours are left to me here; but, Carlie boy, I am so glad to go! I am so sure that my dear Saviour is waiting for me. So sure that this weary weakness will soon be over forever, and that I shall enter into the great eternal joy. But I am sorry to leave all of my dear ones behind, and, oh! so sorry that you do not believe in Christ as I do. Oh, Carl !' and with an exertion almost beyond her strength, Irene raised herself suddenly, and winding her arms about his neck drew him down to her, "won't you believe for my sake? Can't you see that this is the only way that we can ever meet again ? Won't you force yourself to kneel at Jesus' feet? I know that you can if you will, and I am sure that it is the way of truth. Oh, it seems as if I must persuade you; UNCLE CARL 15 as if God would not receive me home if 1 cannot take to Him the love of my own precious boy." "Hush! Irene, hush!" cried Carl. "If any one could persuade me; if any circumstances could draw me; if any emotion could lead me, you would make me believe in the divinity of Christ. But, even you" "Don't, Carl," Irene interrupted; "don't say it. I won't have it so. You must, I say; oh, you must see Jesus as I see Him ! Oh ! my time is so short here, and eternity so long there; and I cannot think that you will not be with me there, my darling. Carl," suddenly softening her voice till it was scarce above a whisper, "won't you pray with me? Won't you just kneel down by my bedside and take my hand and ask God to give your heart to Christ? I am dying, Carl dear, and this is almost my last word. Won't you pray with me?" There was, perhaps, never so hard a battle fought in shorter time than Carl Englewood was called upon to fight at the bedside of this pure, innocent little Christian. The last request she would ever make of him. A request which, if granted, she believed would result in his and her everlasting joy. That would lead him to truth and rest in her Saviour; and which she believed was the only way by which he could be saved. Why not grant it? It was only a simple act. An act that he did not believe in, it is true, but what harm could be done by yielding to the last wish of his only love? Carl bowed his head and touched with his lips Irene's forehead. Could he yield? How gladly would he save her from the least suggestion of pain, even at the cost of life ! He raised his head and looked into her eyes. They met his, pure and true, yet with 1 6 UNCLE CARL a great longing love that seemed to come from a world beyond this. Yes! he would give his life to save this dear one a breath of sorrow; but, he had something that was dearer to him and to her than life, and that was honor. Not even for her could he sacrifice that. "Oh! my precious darling," he said at length, "do you know all that you ask? Surely you would not have me act the hypocrite now, even if it would give you a few moments of happiness! If I should pray with you now, and in that 'great beyond' you should look down upon me from 'our star,' would you not know that I had been untrue to us both? Gladly would I believe as you do if I could honestly; but it would not be honorable to God, nor to you, nor to myself to allow the emotions of this hour to lead me to a forgetfulness of truth as I see it. You remem- ber that we have talked of this before; and while you believed that man's first duty was to 'Glorify God,' I believed that his first duty was 'Absolute sincerity in thought, and word, and deed.' And you were sincere in your worship, while I believed that I best 'Glorified God' by living according to my lights. And in spite of our difference, you loved me, dear. Loved me because you thought me true. You would not have me untrue now, would you ; have my last act to you in this life be the act of a hypocrite?" "Oh, Carl!" said Irene, after a pause, "I might have known it. Do you know, I think after all you are more of a Christian than I am. You are true even now, and I have tempted you so sorely. And surely, a man who is so unyielding when his honor is at stake is such as Christ loves to gather into, His Kingdom. I love you more than ever, dear. I honor you more deeply. I am sorry, oh, so sorry, UNCLE CARL 17 that you cannot see the light as I do. But I believe that you will see it. Your soul is too noble for God to lose; and He will yet bring you to Himself. I believe it truly, and I can die happy in that belief; for now I know that we shall meet again in that great eternity. And, Carl, dear," she whispered, "when the time comes I'll be at the Gate to meet you." She was quiet for a few moments and then, with a great yearning sob, she drew his face down to hers. "Kiss me, dear," she said. "Oh, my precious one! It is hard to leave you. But I know that your life will be pure and true. You will carry out the dear work we have planned together; and, some time, after you have got used to your sorrow, you will make a happy home for some other little woman. I don't want you to be lonely, dear; and I want the world to get the good of your noble life. But you will never forget me, Carlie, will you?" "Forget you, Irene ! my own precious girl never ! Can I ever forget the purest influence of my life? Would I, if I could? While life is mine, the dearest, sweetest, noblest of my thoughts shall ever be of you. My life shall be lonely, but I do hope, and I shall ever hope that some time, some where, beyond the shadows of the grave, you and I shall meet. Aye, I shall hope that your prayers shall be answered and that we shall again clasp each other heart to heart 'at the Gate.' ' Their lips met in one long caress, and then Irene's head dropped to his shoulder and she slept. Gently he laid her back on the pillow as, with a gentle tap at the door, Mrs. Denton entered. Together they 1 8 UNCLE CARL sat by the bedside and watched the waning life of one who had brought so much sunshine into the heart of each. "Carl," said Mrs. Denton, U I would not add the slightest weight to your sorrow; I know that it is heavy. Aye, heavier than my own; because you have not received the 'Comforter' who helps me to bear my burden. But, can you look at our little girl as she lies here, knowing her pure life, seeing her great faith in the Master, and yes, through her eyes, as she looks through the Gates of Death see the beauties of the heaven beyond, and not believe as we do in the salvation through Christ?" "Mother," said Carl, as he reached out and clasped her hand, "if anything could lead me to your God I believe that you and Irene could do it. But I cannot let my emotions lead me here. I wish that I could, for her sake and for yours ; but my own way seems best for me now. I must be true to my con- science else I would be unworthy of the love and trust that has blessed my life." "And, yet," said Mrs. Denton, "you could if you would. And if you only knew how strengthening and comforting such a belief is I am sure you would for your own sake as well as ours." "Yes, no doubt I could, if I would," replied he; "but, my dear friend, where is the strength and com- fort of knowing that I had deliberately blinded my- self to what seems to me to be the real truth? No! I must stand by my own strength now. And I be- lieve that the real comfort in life springs, not from our religious views, but from the knowledge that one has never faltered in his endeavor to live a true life according to his lights; and my lights do not show UNCLE CARL 19 me that your Christ was anything other than a true, noble man." "Oh, Carl, my heart yearns to take you into the fold!" exclaimed Mrs. Denton; "but yet I can see that you are right in your decision, from your point of view. You are very strong now, and I would trust your honor under all circumstances. We were even proud to trust our dear child with you, in spite of your non-belief; because we could see that truth was all-in-all to you. But the time will come I be- lieve it firmly when the hand of God will lead you into His paths. Though He has forbidden your marriage here, He will bring you to Irene in that beautiful land beyond the stars. I am sure of it." "I hope so, oh, I hope so!" cried Carl. "But, my dear friend, it could never be that He would lead me to her there if I were false to her now by staining my honor with a pretension of a belief that I cannot feel is true." Mr. Denton and the doctor entering, they drew aside while the latter placed his finger for a moment on Irene's pulse. "She is sinking fast," he said at length; "she can scarcely survive the night." Giv- ing a few brief directions in regard to some cordials to be given should she awaken, and promising to call again in the early morning, he left the sorrowing ones to watch by the bedside. Slowly the hours passed; the stillness of the night broken only by the occasional word of sympathy, or the soft rustle as they moved quietly about, perform- ing the last loving services for the dear one. In the early morning Irene roused for a few moments, and calling each one to her, spoke softly a few words of farewell; and to Carl, as he pressed his lips to hers, she whispered, "Remember, my darling, / shall meet 20 UNCLE CARL you at the Gate." Again she seemed to slumber, and then, as a ray of golden light from the rising sun pierced the clouds and fell athwart the bed, she drifted out upon the "Great Eternal Sea." We pass over the few days following, filled as they were with grief, and preparations for the burial of the chief joy in life for these three. In another fortnight, had she lived, Irene would have been Carl Englewood's bride. But the laws of being had for- bidden that such great joy should be his; and hence- forth he was to have only the memory of her love and purity to lighten his struggles in life. As he stood alone by her grave in the still hours of that Christmas night following the last sad offices to the dead, and strove to reconcile himself to his loss, he raised his eyes beyond the grim shadows of the surrounding mountains and sought the star that, on a joyous evening in the past, they two had play- fully selected as their future home when time should have ceased for them. And it seemed to him as if all the infinite blazonry of the worlds above united in a benediction to their love, making it a sacred thing forevermore; and from the star their star a stronger radiance seemed to stream, and to fill his heart with a solemn joy as he recalled her last words to him, "Remember, my darling, I shall meet you at the Gate." "Oh ! Irene," he softly said, "if a life of redoubled effort; if a constant earnestness in seeking truth; if an unfailing worship at the shrine of the beautiful and holy of which you were to me the personifica- tion; if an unfaltering endeavor to lift humanity nearer to the true ideal of manhood and womanhood can avail anything, then mine shall be the effort and UNCLE CARL 21 the earnestness, the worship and the endeavor: and if the time of a realization of our hopes shall come, I shall be worthy to meet you 'at the Gate.' Fare- well, beloved." Returning to the desolate home, he passed at once to his room ; and the next day, having bade farewell to the sorrowing mother and father, he once more took up the burdens of life and departed for his fields of labor. CHAPTER II Carl Englewood was often called a peculiar char- acter, perhaps with some reason. The chief differ- ence, however, between him and the majority of his contemporaries was that he abhorred hypocrisy in all forms; while so-called "policy" too often governs the world to the detriment of the higher beauties of character which alone make life worth living. Carl was the youngest boy of a family of seven children, and his earlier years were passed much as the years of other children of his class. His people were Christian in name, in comfortable circum- stances, and in so far as the necessities of life were concerned, managed to journey through this mun- dane sphere without much worry. They ate, drank, quarreled, played, and in fact were as the majority so far as mere living was concerned. We have said that "they were Christian in name"; by that we mean that the father and mother were members of the church, and so far as the outward forms were concerned, lived the Christian life. They attended services regularly, each belonged to several committees, they subscribed to charities according to their means, the children were sent to Sunday- school, and as they grew older their names were added to the roll of church membership. But in these outward forms their Christianity seemed to end; for the real spirit of the Master they professed to follow and serve seemed to have found no home in their hearts. In the privacy of their home, quarrels, bickerings, jealousies, and pouting were of daily oc- UNCLE CARL 23 currence; and the peace which the true acceptance of Christ brings into every household was crowded out by the selfishness of each member. There was a difference between Carl and his people. The young- est of a family who were tired of "bringing up babies," it was seen that he attended both day and Sunday-schools regularly, and had enough to eat and wear, but beyond that it seemed that no one owed him a duty. Naturally bright and with a keen de- sire to know, he early gained the title of the "walk- ing interrogation point." With the sensitiveness of a refinement beyond his years, however, he never obtruded his desires to know where they would be unwelcome, if he could avoid it. At home, where he should have received the most encouragement and assistance, he soon learned that he was an "odd sheep." His questions were unheeded, or he was impatiently told that he was "too young to think of such things." The home love seemed to have been exhausted when he was born, and no one cared to help his struggling mind. Very unselfish himself, ready to yield any- thing where it would give pleasure, yet with a pride of his own that taught him to rely upon his own ig- norance rather than to seek knowledge where it was grudgingly given when given at all, he soon learned to forbear questioning in the home. He was, how- ever, blessed with friends who were glad to help him. His teachers took great pride in advancing him in his studies, and he repaid them manyfold by a strong and lasting affection. His Sabbath-school teacher, especially, was one of those pure, sincere Christians who, passing through deep affliction, had bound herself more and more closely to the "Man of Sorrows," and finding there a comfort more than outweighing her own great griefs, her heart went 24 UNCLE CARL out with yearning to all who were seeking the light. To her, little Carl seemed like a beautiful and rare plant that needed tender care and careful cultivation, but who would repay a thousandfold the loving care given him, by the rich, fragrant blossoms of his man- hood. Suspecting the lack of sympathy in his home, she devoted herself to him more and more, weaving about him the life of her Master, teaching him love and duty and self-sacrifice; and to her Carl learned to go with all his little boyish troubles, and plans and questions, and there he always found sympathy and helpfulness, and the Saviour. And thus time passed on until he was twelve years of age. At this time, if there was ever a sincere, earnest little Christian of that age, Carl was one. Unselfish to a fault, patient, with a strong loving disposition, and a perfect belief in the Christ whose teachings he tried to follow in every act, and in whose service he found his chief pleasure, he was the pride of his teachers and a beloved companion to his playmates; many of whom learned to come to him with their own little sorrows and secrets, with a perfect trust in his boyish honor and sure of his will- ing counsel. At home, however, it seemed to him that the coldness grew ; and the increasing graces of his mind and character only brought forth the sneers, or envy, or silent indifference of his brothers and sis- ters. Even his mother, who should have been his guide, still failed in her duty. He was to her only a troublesome boy who must be fed and clothed until old enough to earn his own living. His mind she gave little thought for that would grow, somehow. Yet she was not a bad mother at heart. She doubt- less loved the boy in a way and would resent any insinuation that she was not doing as well by him UNCLE CARL 25 as she had by her other children, or as any other mother would do for her offspring. She was rather tired of bringing up a family; and her adherence to the forms of Christianty, without a real sense of the spirit of Christ, had so blinded her eyes that her whole life was a pretence, even to self-deception. She was not actively bad, neither was she actively good, save as the forms of the 'church, to which she rigidly conformed, may have led to good; and when on rare occasions Carl, with a longing for affection, would come to her and gently pat her hand or per- haps try to put his arm about her neck, she would passively allow the caress, but would not so respond that he would feel drawn to a more open manifesta- tion of his longing. Or, if he asked questions, or sought help in his studies, she readily succeeded in persuading herself that she was too tired, or he was too young, or she was busy, wilfully blinding herself to the real reason, which was, "I don't want to be bothered." Oh, how many mothers there are like Mrs. Engle- wood ! How many criminals there are who can trace their first wrong bias back to just such a "Christian" home as Carl's! His father, immersed in business affairs, and leav- ing the household to his wife's care, was almost a stranger to Carl, and the boy could not remember when he had shown him any affection or care. One evening, as the family were gathered in the sitting-room after tea, reading, writing, and gossip- ing, Carl, who had been vainly endeavoring to under- stand a problem in physics, appealed to one of his brothers, saying, "Oh, dear, I can't seem to get this through my head. Won't you help me, Ed- ward?" And Edward, a jaunty young man of twenty- 26 UNCLE CARL three years, looked up from a book he was reading, to frown and say, "Oh, bother! No, go to your dear Miss Armstrong, if you want help. I'm not going to teach you." And then Carl went to his father's chair, and timidly asked him to explain the difficult point. Mr. Englewood held his paper aside and asked for the question. "Well, papa," said Carl, "my book says that the moon goes clear around the earth once a month and then it gives this diagram of it; and see, this is the way the earth goes, just a long curved line, and the moon goes on this line just goes up and down across the earth's line like a snake and I can't see how it goes around the earth at all." Mr. Englewood was not at all conversant with the movements of the planets; his life was devoted to his business, and he considered the study of anything that did not apply to business as time wasted. So, instead of answering Carl's question, he turned to Mrs. Englewood and said: "Wife, I don't think this boy's head ought to be stuffed with this kind of nonsense. If that's all he's getting in school, we'd better take him out and teach him a trade. He's getting old enough to be earning something." "Oh, let him go to school a while longer," said Mrs. Englewood; "he's much less bother there; besides, I don't know what we could put him at." "Well, I don't know that I care much whether he goes or not, but I'm not going to spend my money for books of astronomy, or Latin, or algebra, or any such truck as that. They are not necessary by any means. And my dollars come too hard to throw away on foolishness of that kind." "Why don't he earn his own books," said Ed- UNCLE CARL 27 ward; "he's big enough. I used to pick up a lot of spending money when I was a kid." "Oh, I don't want to leave school," pleaded Carl. "I would do most anything to stay there." "I guess Edward's idea is a good one," said his father, as he returned to his paper. "Earn your own money and buy your own books, or else leave school." It was in this atmosphere of indifference to his in- tellectual needs and yearnings that Carl's younger days were passed. And it was by comparing the private home life of his family with all of its selfish- ness and quarreling, its jealousies and gossiping, its indifference to good and its yielding to evil, with the public life, with its professions of Christianity, its strict adherence to church discipline and its adulation of so-called social respectability, that he gained his first knowledge of hypocrisy. Scrupulously exact himself, abhorring deceit in all forms as he would carrion, he hated hypocrisy with all the strength of his young heart. But the natural affection which all must feel who have ever known the ties of blood, rendered it impossible for him to hate the hypocrite, even though he loathed hypocrisy, for would not that have made him an enemy to his own people? And was not he taught by his Saviour to love? So he made excuses for them and tried as best he could to right the wrong. But this hatred of untruthful- ness in deed or word became a leading passion with him, that was to grow with his growth, and to be one of the chief elements to mould his life. With the help of his friends outside of the home circle he found many little pieces of work, and contrived to earn enough money to purchase most of his needed books, while his instructors kindly loaned him such as he could not buy. And so for the next two years 28 UNCLE CARL he continued at school, studying hard during school hours and in the evenings, and in his spare hours carrying wood to fill the boxes at school, or driving cows to pasture, or running errands to get the needed pennies. At the age of fifteen, however, his father in- sisted that Carl leave school and assist him in his business, his brother Edward having concluded to accept a position at a distance, where, as he expressed it, "he could be his own boss." And at this time be- gan those doubts in regard to the Christian religion, which were to make or mar his whole life. Until this time, it is to be remembered, Carl had accepted and placed implicit confidence in the teachings of the church as revealed to him by his beloved teacher, Annie Armstrong, and had most conscientiously and happily served the Christ. But a time had now come when he must think for himself, and with much anguish of spirit "work out his own salvation." Physically Carl was, as a boy, very timid, and it was not until years afterward, when his mind and will had matured, that he was able to overcome his physical shrinking. The truly courageous man is not the fearless man, but the man who from a sense of duty or other strong motive overcomes by strength of will the shrinking of the flesh or the trembling for one's reputation, and "nobly dares the danger nature shrinks from." And so Carl's timidity was not strange nor to be regarded as unworthy. Circum- stances had never brought him into the presence of danger, real or fancied, and his will to overcome that natural "shrinking" had never been taxed. Since he could remember he had never been left alone at night, and for several years Edward had been his bed-fellow. But with Edward's departure Carl was UNCLE CARL 29 told that he must sleep alone. It may seem to my readers a very simple thing to cause such great trouble, yet as we are giving a true history of an earnest life we must relate the very beginning and cause of struggles that were fraught with moment- ous consequences. A single spark may be sufficient to cause a great conflagration ; a single word dropped in the ear of a multitude may change the fate of nations; and a single fear raised a doubt in Carl's mind that it took years to resolve, and which resulted in changing entirely the current of his thoughts and studies. That first night alone, Carl, having prepared him- self for sleep, knelt at his bedside and offered his petition to the Most High, as was his habit, and then, putting out the light, he crept into bed. He did not feel particularly fearful at first, and arrang- ing the covering comfortably he drifted off into thoughts of his life to be ; his start with his father's business, how he would study nights, and of his plans for the future. But as he lay there planning, there came to him a slowly creeping sensation of intense loneliness in life. His beloved Sunday-school teacher had gone to make her home at a distance; his withdrawal from school would remove him from his instructors there in great measure. There was no one to whom he could go with his little troubles and schemes and feel that he would be welcome, his own people, from their lack of sympathy, being out of the question. Oh, how much alone he felt in his life! Half unconsciously he turned over and thrust out his hand that he might touch his brother Ed- ward, just to feel that he had some company at least. But his hand failed to reach Edward, and he suddenly remembered that he was alone there, too. 30 UNCLE CARL With a little sigh he drew the coverings closer, and listened. Outside, the night wind blew gently and the swaying boughs of an old maple tapped softly on the window. The footsteps of a belated traveler were heard as they passed and died away in the dis- tance; and from afar came the faint barking of a dog. Oh, how lonely it was! And Carl began to think of all the stories he had heard and read of night's terrors, until his heart almost stopped beat- ing. Cowardly? Yes. Yet an excusable cowardice. Even full grown and brave men shrink from un- known dangers, though some would take fearful odds with scarce the quiver of a muscle could they see and measure the foe. There are no dangers more fearsome than those conjured up by untrained imag- ination; and poor Carl was but a lad and all unused to battling with physical fears. Studious beyond his years, he was now only a struggling mentality; one searching for great truths, striving to gain a keener apprehension of the marvelous theories advanced by the great philosophers; and never having had reason for thinking of danger to his physical person, was all untrained and unprepared. Of an intense ner- vous organization, an indefinable fear of an unknown danger took complete possession of him, and he lay in his bed trembling in every fiber. It seemed to him hours that he lay there futilely striving to con- trol himself, until he was almost at the point of screaming. Suddenly a strain of distant music pene- trated the chamber. A company of young people re- turning from some social gathering were singing, as they moved homeward, one of the popular airs of the day. But as the melody reached Carl's ear, softened by distance, it suggested to him thoughts UNCLE CARL 31 of the church and its music. And, oh, Carl, why didn't you think of that before ! of the Master. Like the storm on the sea of Galilee, Carl's tremb- ling ceased as he seemed to hear the dear command, "Peace, be still." And he almost laughed as he thought, "Why, there's nothing for me to fear; and even if there was would not Jesus protect me? Of course He would. I love Him and He loves me; and have I not asked Him to keep us all safe and hasn't He promised to answer the prayers of his people? I'll just rest with Him." And with a great sigh of relief Carl once more prepared himself for sleep. But his thoughts were not to be quieted at once, and they roamed on and on, as he lay half asleep, yet conscious of his surroundings, of the rising wind now blowing fiercely, of the maple branches striking against the window panes, of the baying of the dog in the distance. But he felt safe, thoroughly safe, with his "Elder Brother." Suddenly a thought came to him with such force that it almost seemed that some one had spoken; a thought that created in him a terror such as he had never imagined "Suppose there is no God." He sprang up in his bed and strained his eyes to see who had spoken; he called, "Who is it?" But there was no answer save the wind and the tapping of the maple branches, and every time they struck the win- dow they seemed to drive into his brain the terrible words, "Suppose there is no God?" and again, "How do you know there is a Christ?" "How do I know it?" said Carl to himself. "Why, because it must be. I have always believed it; it must be so; it must be so," and he lay down again. But the doubt had entered his heart, a faint doubt; scarcely a doubt at all, but rather a question- 32 UNCLE CARL ing. He shivered as he lay there. It seemed to him that he was committing a sin to harbor such thoughts for an instant, and yet he could not force them back. Again and again he repeated, "It must be so, it must be so" ; but again and again the hor- rible question returned with ever-increasing insist- ence, until the sense of sin reached such a point that, forgetting all thought of other fear than the wrath of the God in whom he believed, yet thought he doubted, he bounded out of bed and knelt in tearful prayer, that his God would help him to cast out the doubt, would cleanse him from the least shadow of the sin of denial, and pardon him for yielding to such thoughts. And pleading thus, striving to throw himself wholly in to the arms of "Him who is mighty to save," Carl at last felt comforted and crawled back into bed, humiliated to think of his weakness, yet trusting that God had removed his doubt and would help to keep it out of his heart; and, tired out, he soon slept. We do not think that our poor boy really doubted the existence of God in his heart. His feeling was one of those superficial fears which, in harmony with the conditions of his being on this night of nights, seemed to him a criminal doubting of that which he believed he knew to be true. It was more of a physi- cal shrinking from uncertainty than an intellectual process; but the instant he realized the fear it seemed to him to become a real denial of the Saviour, and it was with this thought that he asked God for pardon and help. Yet the first germ of doubt, the seed of infidelity, was sown in his heart. It was not removed; only its sting was covered for this night, and the next day he would remember it with humilia- tion, and it would return again and again. Would he UNCLE CARL 33 be able to stifle it? Would he ever again have a simple childlike faith? Would he ever rest calmly again in the arms of the Crucified One? Look ye along the years of his future and judge whether his life was worth the living, or whether it would have been of any value but for this night of fear and the agony it brought in its train. Whatever may have been Carl's faults, he was certainly blameless in SO' far as this doubt was con- cerned. But for his philosophy in later years we must hold him wholly responsible, and that phi- losophy received its first impulse on this night in the last quarter of the nineteenth century in a small in- land town in Michigan. CHAPTER III We will not weary our readers with a critical ex- amination of Carl's studies during the next few years. The anxious question, returning again and again in spite of his efforts to crowd it out, caused him to study more diligently than ever his Bible and many commentaries thereon. He read the Good Book through from cover to cover. He studied ancient history with a view of proving every step of the Bib- lical narrative. He prayed in agony of spirit; he sought the counsel of his teachers and pastor. To the latter he told of all his strivings, and of this doubt that he could not master; and the pastor a simple, good man, but not one of deep learning, and of a decidedly superficial understanding of child nature had placed his hand on Carl's head and said, "Oh, you'll come out all right. Just keep on praying and striving, and don't think of anything but that God is good and Christ reigns, and you'll outgrow your doubts. I confess I don't exactly un- derstand just what God means by disciplining you in this way, but He knows, and all that I can do is to pray with you." How prone many Christians are, when they have a problem to solve that is beyond them, to lay all of the blame on God, instead of working with Him for the glory of both God and man ! Carl was not one of the kind to shirk any responsi- bility. He believed that he was himself at fault, and as he could get no comfort nor light from those about him, he redoubled his efforts to find truth for him- self. Hitherto he had considered it a sin to so much UNCLE CARL 35 as glance between the covers of an infidel book. But now, having exhausted all the literature at his com- mand in favor of the gospels, without resolving his doubts, he sought the other side of the question ; and during his leisure hours Payne and Voltaire were made to feed his questioning mind; and many were the hours and days of mental agony that he passed in his struggle for light. Unsatisfactory it all was. Truth ever seemed to elude his grasp. His close application was undermining his health, while his faith in the Christian religion steadily grew weaker and weaker. Not but that he believed that God ex- isted oh, no ! he was sure of that. But he doubted whether God would directly intervene in the affairs of an individual; whether he listened to prayer; and he could not pray now as in the other days, because he thought that if God really was all that he had for- merly believed Him to be, He must have the whole heart or none; and Carl was uncertain in his own heart as to the right course, save in this one particu- lar he must be perfectly truthful in every thought. His honor must be his religion until he could again see God as he still felt He must be. For many years Carl had been subject to neu- ralgia, although, with a pride akin to that of the stoics, he had kept the pain to himself. Latterly, ag- gravated no doubt by his use of the midnight oil, the pain had become so intense as to cause him to fear for his reason, if not for life. He was ignorant of the nature of his trouble, but still his pride would not allow him to admit to any one that he was not perfectly well. Eventually the pain became so great that nature succumbed and he would faint under the strain. But still he kept it to himself; and now, be- lieving in his ignorance that he had some fatal dis- 36 UNCLE CARL ease, he studied the harder to resolve into a cer- tainty the great uncertainty of his religious thoughts. He would not hint to his family the fearful straits in which he found himself, both mentally and physi- cally; for he believed, what he had many times been told, that he was a great burden to them; and he felt that he would get no sympathy from them, although they might send him to a doctor; and he knew that they would only profess great horror at his back-sliding in religion, without in any way try- ing to help him in his mental conflicts. And so he struggled on, and with, as he thought, one foot in the grave he built for himself a rock upon which to stand during the remainder of his life. Christ be- came to him simply a man a pure, noble, heroic man. A man to love for his purity of life and his sympathy for mankind, but still only a man. One who, drinking deeply of the fountain of Truth and Love, seemed to have reached almost superhuman spiritual beauty, but yet was no more divine than the rest of the human family. We do not know of a greater bravery than that shown by Carl Englewood when, at last, after having studied and thought and striven for the true light for many weary months, he sat down to map out his creed: when he, for conscience's sake, cast aside the belief of a life-time, endeared to him by many asso- ciations of the past, the source of strength and com- fort in times of need; laid aside the certainty he had thought true for the uncertainty of that which he only hoped for; the beauties of the Christian Re- deemer, with all the rich promises of eternity, for the beauties of the Man Christ, with only a hope of immortality and consciousness of his own honor to sustain him to do all this at a time when it seemed UNCLE CARL 37 to him that his physical trouble must soon bring him face to face with the eternal Power. And not only that, but he knew also that he was putting himself outside of the pale of society as he had known it. Henceforth he knew that in a measure he would be ostracised; that when his beliefs were known his old playmates would shun him ; he would be pointed out as an infidel and be scorned by those who in the past had called him "friend." Yet, so strong was his hatred of hypocrisy, so great his love for truth in the smallest acts of life, that he preferred all of this to the alternative of deliberately blinding himself to himself and to God. And he established two mot- toes, each of which he should follow through life "Sincerity with himself," and "Fidelity to his con- victions." He hoped for an intelligent immortality, but his life here was not to be guided in any measure by that hope. An immortality that he was sure of, however, was based on the principle that the influ- ence of a thing that has once been can never die. Although it may change form until its original in- dividuality is lost, its effects are nevertheless eternal. On this knowledge of immortality he would build his life; and he would so act that the influence of his life would tend to the nourishment of the beau- tiful flowers of honor, and virtue, and truth. His comfort would be that he had done what he could to lessen evil and to advance the glorious cause of the pure and holy. He could not believe that, if God should act directly with him, He would blame or punish him for being true to his conscience ; and he rested his creed here. He had solved the problem as best he could, and would never take it up again unless such light should come to him in his future life as would cause him to doubt whether he had 38 UNCLE CARL solved it right. Henceforth his strength must come from himself alone. Carl now arranged other studies, taking up the philosophies of Comte and Spencer, of Darwin, of Huxley, and of Haeckel; and while not neglecting his other work and duties of life, passed his spare time in building up and strengthen- ing an intellect of keener vision than is usual with boys of his age. He did not "hide his light under a bushel" ; and although he did not often enter into religious discussions, yet he insisted that all with whom he associated should understand where he stood on such matters; and he bore their taunts and jeers and scorn bravely, until at length, his fa- ther, thinking his business would be injured by his presence, suggested that he had better find work else- where. After casting about him he secured a position in a little town in the backwoods of Wisconsin, and closed forever the first chapter of his boyhood. Of the members of Carl's family we shall prob- ably see no more; hence we will pass them briefly in review. They lived on in the same "respectability" for many years. Never very wealthy and sometimes pressed for ready cash, they scrupled not to call on Carl for assistance, and as he prospered fairly well he was always ready to share with them. They never showed gratitude to him, evidently thinking that so black a sheep was not entitled to thanks. But, on the contrary, on many occasions they would speak sadly to their friends of his infidelity and the sorrow he caused them. Carl never sought them; he knew but too well that there would never be any sympathy between them and himself, and he pre- ferred to live alone; helping when he could, but desiring no associations with those he could not trust. UNCLE CARL 39 They wronged him many times, even to the extent of direct dishonesty; but he chose to let it pass, and they were never allowed to suffer when he could help it. On two or three occasions he saw them when circum- stances rendered it necessary, but with these excep- tions their paths in life were ever divergent from his own. We gladly bid them farewell. Carl's work now left him ample leisure for the pursuit of his studies, and he rapidly developed a keen understanding of many of the deeper branches of science and philosophy; his aim being a far- reaching philosophy which should embrace not only the material worlds and the mysterious laws govern- ing them, but which would also give light on the social problems and the duties of man. He mingled freely with many classes of men ; and his intelligence and readiness to help, as well as an innate nobility of character, which enforced a per- fect faith in him as it shone through his clear eyes and expressive, sympathetic face, was an "open sesame" to him everywhere. His studies, both of books and men, during his years here rounded out his character and established him in a work in life that should end only with the hail of the Grim Oars- man. We will pass over the next few years of his life, they being only the years of preparation, of patient plodding; and our purpose is rather to record the results of his early experiences than the events of a somewhat monotonous life in the backwoods. Two things we may, however, mention, as each in after years played an important part in his career. During his studies he chanced to run across a work on hypnotism; and though somewhat interested in it at the time, he laid it aside thinking to take it up 40 UNCLE CARL again later and investigate the phenomenon more thoroughly. One sleepy summer afternoon as he sat in his office, having nothing special to do, he fell into a brown study over some question that interested him. In front of him, stretched out on the floor, lay a large Newfoundland dog, a special pet of Carl's, who lavished on the dumb brute a strong af- fection. After a time he was roused by the strange action of the animal. His eyes were fixed on Carl's with an almost human expression, his whole body seemed uneasily rigid, so to speak, and he uttered a low whimpering whine. Carl had been unconsciously looking very steadily at the dog, and as he noticed his strange behavior the thought came to him sud- denly, "I wonder if I have hypnotized him?" Rising slowly and keeping his eyes fastened on the eyes of the animal, he moved his hand back and forth, the dog following every movement. Without speaking a word Carl then moved toward a long table, the dog still following, and at a motion leaping atop, and in the same manner was led to the end and back again, and leaped to the floor. Now, whether the jar of striking the floor caused a physical change, or whether it was that the intent gaze of both dog and man was broken at that instant, we do not know; but the moment the dog struck the floor he scurried through the doorway with his tail between his legs, and ran yelping down the street; and it was many a day before he was seen again in that neighborhood. This was interesting to Carl, and he proceeded to investigate more thoroughly this strange subject. He found upon investigation that he possessed in a marked degree that mysterious power called animal magnetism; and he proceeded to experiment until he had so far developed it that he could put in the som- UNCLE CARL 41 nolent state a full-grown man. At the same time he learned that he also developed the telepathic vision in a marked degree. As he studied this wonderful thing, however, he became convinced that its devel- opment must be a terrible temptation to its pos- sessor too great a temptation, he feared, for him to withstand; and as he was resolved to live a pure and upright life, and as he had been developing this power out of curiosity without other object in view, he concluded that he had better drop it, and return to more profitable and less dangerous studies. He therefore laid all books bearing on this subject aside, and seldom glanced at them again; nor did he seek to gain control over any one by such means. The other thing we would mention was his literary work. Carl had written a number of articles for publication and some of them were accepted. One of them, a simple little article on the characteristics of a backwoods life, had chanced beneath the eye of the editor of a New York daily. He wrote to Carl for other articles, and in time offered him a po- sition as special correspondent. Carl accepted, and after the time for which he had been previously en- gaged had expired, entered at once on his duties; his work being to travel from place to place as he was ordered, and to write of peoples, customs, char- acteristics, etc., for publication. It was an excel- lent school for him, and he developed a peculiar fit- ness for literary work that proved eventually of great profit in more ways than one. It was during a resi- dence in a small village in Pennsylvania, whither he had been sent to investigate a strike in the coal re- gions, that he had first met Irene Denton. Her fa- ther, a devout Presbyterian minister, had become interested in him and invited him to his home. Carl, 42 UNCLE CARL however, scorning to sail under false colors, told Mr. Denton frankly his position in religious matters, and so interested him that he again urged him to call. The acquaintance ripened into a strong, cordial friendship, based on mutual respect; and, becoming a constant visitor with the minister's family, a love developed between Irene and Carl that resulted finally in their engagement. Mrs. and Mr. Denton, although regretting deeply Carl's defection from the church, yet felt such a strong belief in him that they willingly trusted to him their only daughter. His strength, his purity of thought, his adherence to duty and love of truth, were characteristics that made Carl a man to be loved and trusted at all times; and Mr. Denton felt that Irene would be safer in his care than in that of many of the members of the church. They knew Irene's faith was strong and sure, and they hoped that she would be able to draw his dear soul into the fold. How the engagement terminated our first chapter has told the reader. And now we find Carl, at the age of twenty-four, stronger of character than many men of twice his years; purer of thought than the average man; higher of purpose than the seeker after worldly honors; steadfast and patient in working out the stern problems of life. He was starting westward to again take up his duties, carrying with him a deep sorrow, yet so mixed with the joy of having been loved by a pure heart that even his anguish was dear to him. And over all his future life the sweet influ- ence of his bride in death shall hover and shall cause beautiful flowers to grow in his pathway, render holy his whole lifework, and nourish anew the hope in his heart that he shall ever cherish until he shall meet her "At the Gate." CHAPTER IV In the rotunda of a hotel in the city of Chicago, a few weeks after the departure of Carl Englewood from the home of his dead, a company of a half dozen commercial travelers were seated in a social circle, and from the loud expressions of merriment and an occasional word more emphatic than usual it might be gathered that they were "telling stories" ; and as is too apt to be the case when men of the world of this class get together, it was evident that the stories were not of such a nature as would be acceptable if related in the company of their mothers and sisters. Commercial travelers as a class we have found to be keen, bright business men, and big- hearted, jovial friends. But we have also found that the majority of them are inclined toward vul- garity ; and we certainly question the gentlemanliness of a person who would habitually relate stories for the mere purpose of making fun, that would cause a blush to mantle the cheek of a lady if told in her presence. With these men sat a tall, dignified person, evidently a professional man. A broad, fair brow; keen, dark eyes; aquiline nose and firm, well-shaped mouth and chin denoted a man of intellect and will. He had not at first taken a very enthusiastic part in the conversation, but gradually he began to join in the laughs raised by the stories and bright sallies, eventually telling one or two anecdotes of the class passing current as "humorous" with these men. While in the midst of one of these unsavory yarns he chanced to turn just in time to meet the gaze of a 44 UNCLE CARL pair of sad blue eyes from one who had arrived but a few moments before, and who was evidently wait- ing for the story to be finished before speaking. A flush of shame mantled the story-teller's cheek as he recognized the newcomer, and he hurriedly finished his tale and, while the others were laughing at the so-called "point," extended his hand in greeting. The newcomer was a man rather above medium height, of somewhat thin physique, with clean-cut, intelligent features, expressive blue eyes, and brown mustache and beard. The expression of his face was sad, yet very kindly; a world of benevolent sorrow seemed written there. Indeed, his whole bearing seemed to lead one involuntarily to a fleeting memory of the Man of Sorrows. "How do you do, Mr. Courtright?" said he, as he clasped the other's hand. "I have been in town but an hour and was told that I would find you here." "Englewood, I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Courtright, "though I hardly expected you so soon." The company having had their laugh, turned to Mr. Courtright, and noticing the new arrival asked for an introduction, and invited him to join the circle. Carl Englewood acknowledged the introduction, but pleaded his need of rest, having just arrived after a long journey, as a reason for not remaining with them. "I wished," said he, "to greet Mr. Courtright, that he might know of my arrival. But, having listened to one of your stories, I'm afraid that I would be an interloper here. It reminded me of art anecdote told of a certain gentleman's first trip over the ocean." "Let's have it," said all; "the more stories the merrier." UNCLE CARL 45 "I'm afraid my stories wouldn't suit you," said Englewood, with a faint smile. "Oh, we are not afraid of that," said one corpu- lent little fellow." A friend of Courtright's couldn't tell anything but the right stuff eh, pal?" and he gave Courtright, who drew back shamefacedly, a resounding thwack on the shoulder. "Well, I'll tell you how that story affected me," said Englewood cheerily; "though the one I'll tell you is a very old traveler, I having heard it when a boy. It seems that this gentleman, who had never before experienced the peculiar thrills that old Nep- tune causes to agitate the internal machinery of his apprentices, started for the old country in company with a boon companion. As the good ship passed out of sight of land, the two were sitting under the deck awning, talking of their plans for the future and the trips they desired to make. Our friend had proceeded just far enough in expressing one of his desires to say, 'I wish ,' when he suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth and started for the ship's side. His companion, realizing his condition, fol- lowed with a smile and asked, as the poor fellow wrestled with his woe, and vest buttons, and dinner, 'What is it you wish, John?' 'Oh!' said John, 'Oh, dear! I wish I was in E u rope.' ' And Engle- wood emphasized the last word in the manner usual with those who cast their bread upon the waters when under the benign influence of sea-sickness, adding quietly, "I confess that the story I heard aroused in me for a moment the same wish that John had." Without waiting for a retort, he turned to Court- right with the remark, "By the way, speaking of traveling, do you remember how interested we were at the office over your description of your trip in 46 UNCLE CARL Switzerland? I'm sure that these gentlemen would enjoy it as much as we did. Tell us about it, will you?" The gentlemen expressing a desire to hear, and Courtright being a good talker, the little circle were soon engaged in relations of travels and experiences, interesting and instructive; and Englewood soon after leaving them, it is to be hoped that they passed a more profitable as well as more pleasant hour after than before he preached his little sermon. Indeed, one of them took Courtright's hand as the party broke up, and said, "I, for one, thank you heartily, Courtright, for your very interesting talk. By the way, who is that Mr. Englewood? Is he a preacher?" "No," said Courtright, "he is a traveling corre- spondent for a New York daily paper; and one of the noblest men I ever knew." "A very straight-laced chap, isn't he?" "Well, yes," replied Courtright, "he is 'straight- laced,' as you call it; that is, I believe him to be pure-minded and very earnest; and yet he has a very keen sense of humor; but he abhors vulgarity in all forms." "Well," said the man, "he certainly called me down in great shape, but he did it so smoothly that one could not feel offended at him; in fact, I didn't know until some time after that I had been called down at all." "He didn't mean to call us down exactly," said Courtright. "But he has a faculty of making men see when they are making fools of themselves, with- out giving offense. He just gives a man something to think about and then introduces an illustration that clinches it without one's knowing his object." UNCLE CARL 47 "I can see that. Just to think of the contrast between the trash we were talking and the subject he introduced, almost makes me wish I was in Europe myself. But doesn't he get tiresome with his preaching?" 'Tiresome,' no! I'm not very intimate with him, but I have never seen a man who more thor- oughly enjoys fun and nonsense in its proper place than Carl Englewood. But it must be clean and pure ; and he seems never to lose his dignity. But I never knew him to 'preach' as you call it. It is his manner and actions that talk more than what he says." "I wish I could see more of him; there's something about him that I like. I seem to feel more like a man to have met him. But I declare I shouldn't know how to act alone with him, and that's admitting a good deal for a commercial traveler of thirty years' experience." "I felt the same way," said Courtright, "when I first met him ; and yet, I never knew a more cheerful, approachable man. He is very simple and easy in manner, and makes one feel at home, as it were, when with him; but at the same time he avoids all famil- iarity. He's a puzzle to me in some ways, but I believe him to be a deep as well as a good man. Well, good-night, I must be off. By the way, are you boys going on that lark you spoke of to-night?" "Naw! No lark for me to-night. That fellow has made me want to be respectable for once. I'm going to bed. So-long!" The next morning, as Mr. Courtright sat busily conning his mail in his law office, the door opened and with a cheery "Good-morning," Carl Engle- wood entered. "How do you do, Mr. Englewood," 48 UNCLE CARL said the lawyer; "I'm more than glad to see you. Sit down and have a cigar; I'll just finish my mail and then I'm at your service." Carl accepted the proffered Havana, and while Courtright resumed his occupation seated himself with the morning paper. The past few weeks had borne hardly on our friend. His face, never full, was thin now almost to emaciation; his eyes had a sad, far-away expression, as of one patiently bearing heavy sorrows. His high, broad forehead showed deeper lines of care. Yet his step was as firm, his movements as decisive, his words as clear and to the point as ever. Courtright had not heard of his late loss. Indeed, save a card notifying him that he would soon arrive, he had not heard from him in some months; and although they had had numerous business relations in the past and bore a strong friendship for each other, neither knew much of the private life of the other; though Englewood had frequently visited at the lawyer's home, and was a sworn friend and ally of the latter's wife in many of her little benevolent schemes. As Courtright, having finished his mail, wheeled round in his chair, he was struck with the change in Englewood's face as he sat now with his arms folded, the paper fallen to his knees, and with his head bowed and eyes gazing sadly out of the window at the crowds passing below, yet obviously taking no note of them. Courtright watched him steadily for a few moments, and then, softly crossing to his side, clasped his hand in his with the strong, earnest pressure of true friendship. "What is it, old man? I have perhaps no right to pry into your private affairs, but your sad expression and my high esteem UNCLE CARL 49 for you make me feel that I want to cheer you up a bit." Englewood looked into his friend's face and saw there a truth and earnestness that is all too rare in this rushing age. He had a strong faith in the char- acter of this man. Weak he knew him to be in some ways too easily led by boon companions, perhaps. But he believed him to be a man of strict honor in business affairs, kind of heart, and of a high order of intellect. Carl was much alone in the world; seldom did he meet with those with whom he could converse on those philosophical topics which had been the major portion of his life studies. And more seldom was it that he met a man who could sympathize with him in his peculiar ideas of what constitutes a true man. Yes, he was terribly alone. It was not that he lacked friends, for one had but to look into his clear eyes and feel the firm pressure of his hand to feel that here was a man worthy of un- bounded trust. And, ever since he could remember, he had been made a sort of safety-vault for the secrets, a tribunal for judgment and counsel, and a well of sympathy for the sorrows of others. But only once in his life had he found a faithful, under- standing heart for his own confidences; and that heart was now far away, "Waiting at the Gate for him," and oh! how he did long at times to open his inner self to a friend. Mr. Courtright was a man in whom he had great confidence; whom he could trust in all worldly matters. Yet, with all of his intelligence and truth, he would look upon Engle- wood's endeavors and self-denials as far-fetched, finnicky notions. He might honor him for his per- severance in what he thought right, but he would 4 50 UNCLE CARL lack the finer perception and the fellow-feeling to render a true sympathy possible. And Carl could gain no comfort by speaking of his inner self to one who from his very nature must ever remain a stranger to its essence. Yet, he returned Court- right's pressure and felt proud of his respect. "I thank you," he said; "your friendship I receive gratefully, and should I ever need assistance or cheer there is none from whom I would more gladly receive it. I have had a great sorrow since I saw you last, but it is one that I must bear alone. I think it is seldom that a greater sorrow comes to a man than the loss of the loving heart of his bride by the hand of death ; and that has been my fate. We will not speak of it again, please. I will bear it well, and I speak of it now only because as a friend you feel some interest in my affairs. I am here now on busi- ness, and if you have the time to spare let us turn to it. I must be off again, to-night if possible." "It is needless to say, Englewood," said Court- right, "that you have my earnest sympathy in your distress. But since you wish it I will not grieve you further by inquiring particulars. Only let me say this : I like you ; I respect you ; I believe, although I comprehend but little of your inner life, that I could love you; and if ever you should need such a friend as I, I would be proud, very proud, to be given the right to prove my earnest regard." "I thank you again, Courtright," said Carl, rising as he again reached out to his friend; and with bowed heads and clasped hands the two sealed the compact of a friendship that was never broken. "And now to business," said Courtright, after a pause. "In what can I serve you?" Drawing up to the table and producing some UNCLE CARL 51 papers from his pocket Englewood explained his business. "Two weeks ago," said he, "a friend of mine, Mr. A. J. Cramer, died in G T , Michigan. Alone in the world, save for a daughter of twelve years, he left a somewhat valuable property in the hands of three trustees, of whom I am one, to be held in trust and increased by safe investment until the girl is twenty-one. He wished me to act as guardian for the child, but at the same time desired me to take charge of, and complete in his name, a literary work of some magnitude that he had been working on for several years; destined, he thought, to be of great value to mankind. There are certain things involved in this work that will render a some- what extensive travel necessary, as I must verify each step. I have, therefore, made arrangements with the editors of the New York to continue my work with them from certain western points, and shall devote some three years to the Northwest. Eventually I shall, if possible, cross the water to verify certain statements of the truth of which I am uncertain. The girl, Harriet, is in delicate health; and I have arranged that she go South for a time with a very dear friend of my youthful days, a Mrs. Hazelton, my old Sabbath-school teacher, in whom I have unbounded confidence. "But now, what I want of you is to act for me in my position as trustee for the estate. To tell the truth, one of the men associated with me, I have reason to believe, will need watching; and the other is not a keen business man." "What is the estate valued at?" asked Courtright. "About $150,000," replied Carl. "Chiefly in real estate in Michigan, and a bank deposit of some 52 UNCLE CARL $15,000; this latter to be used for the girl's mainte- nance during her minority." "Who are the other trustees? Do I know them?" inquired Courtright. "J. F. Estes, a bookkeeper for a Detroit depart- ment store, and John Stanhope, of Kaloma, Michigan." "John Stanhope!" exclaimed Courtright. "You don't mean the man who tried to steal a seat in the Senate two years ago?" "I don't know, I am sure. He is a professional politician, I believe, but I have not learned his ante- cedents. I have met him but once, but there is that about him that causes me to think it well to watch him closely." "What sort of a looking man is he?" asked Court- right. "Very tall, dark complexion, with small, shifty dark eyes; a scar as of a knife cut on the left cheek. He is rather a fine appearing man, broad shouldered and commanding; but I was unable to catch his eye. I don't like a man who cannot look me in the face when talking with me." "I believe it's the same man I know," said Court- right. "And if it is you cannot be too careful. What are these papers?" "Merely memoranda of the estate," replied Carl, "which you can look over at your leisure. Now we three trustees are to meet at Kaloma the day after to-morrow to arrange details. Of course we cannot do much until after the will is probated and we are confirmed in our office; but as I must leave as soon as possible to prosecute my other work, we concluded to map out our duties now, as there is no one to con- test the will or make trouble of that sort. I want you, my friend, to come over with me. I confess UNCLE CARL 53 myself very incompetent in business affairs of this sort, and you can see that everything is straight and act for me during my absence. I want to take the boat to-night." "I'll try to arrange my business so as to get away," said Courtright; "but I have a case on next Mon- day so I will have to return as soon as possible. You may depend on me, however. Where do you dine? At the hotel?" "Yes," said Carl, "at the Palmer House." "Well, I'll meet you there about noon. Mean- while, you will excuse me, as I have several things to see to if I am to get away with you to-night." "Very well, I'll proceed to vacate your sanctum sanctorum," said Carl, rising to go. Courtright fol- lowed him to the door, and as he shook his hand said: "Englewood, I want to thank you for the shower bath you gave us last night. Your little sermon did more than one man good, and I know that I at least will profit by it." "Oh, say nothing about it," said Carl. "I was perhaps too 1 presumptious ; but I knew that you were not doing yourself justice, and I just thought I'd give you a little reminder. It was but a little thing to do for a friend." "Aye, it was but a little thing," replied Courtright, "but it was more effectual than an outright rebuke. I never felt more ashamed of myself in my life. What a fellow you are! I don't believe there is another man living who' could have done as you did without antagonizing the whole crowd. But, do you know, they rather liked you for it." "Well, I'm glad," said Carl, "that I did a little good. I felt rather out of place though, and rather expected to be sat down upon. I'm off. Good-by." CHAPTER V By the shores of Lake Michigan a man was pacing up and down the veranda of a small summer cottage. The scene was beautiful beyond description, as nature's glories always are they may be felt, but not so described that another may also feel them in their fullness. The blue waters lapped the sands with their ceaseless murmur; a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding the house; from the roof of the cottage came the soft cooing of doves, and away in the distance a vessel in full sail broke the monotony of the broad expanse of water. Everything suggested quiet, drowsy peace; and the only discordant element in the whole scene was the sullen scowl that shadowed the face of John Stan- hope as he strode impatiently to and fro. "Jenkins is late," he muttered. "I wouldn't have Englewood and his cursed lawyer find him here for a good deal. It is easy to see that they don't place any too much confidence in me; but it will take sharper men than they are to get ahead of Jack Stan- hope. I'll have a slice of old Cramer's estate in spite of them; but I must play my cards well, and it wouldn't do for them to meet Jenkins here. Why the D 1 doesn't the old viper come ; its past Oh, there he is now!" As he uttered this exclamation a small rowboat rounded a little promontory that stretched out into the blue waters a short distance down the beach. And, as it touched shore, a stumpy little man leaped onto the sand, and drawing the boat out of the water shambled toward the cottage. It needed but a UNCLE CARL 55 glance to understand the character of this man. A narrow, sloping forehead; small, deep set, fishy eyes surrounded by inflamed lids; high cheek bones; heavy, sensuous mouth, from the corners of which two brown streaks bore perennial evidence of the filthy tobacco habit; and a general hang-dog ex- pression of face and physique betokened the cringing satellite of a villain more bold than himself. A broad-brimmed felt hat, a suit of gray clothing much the worse for wear and dirt, and a large, flaming red necktie hanging loosely over a soiled shirt front, composed the costume of a man who was the instru- ment of much that influences the fate of some of our friends in this history. As he slouched toward Stanhope, glancing fur- tively about him and from time to time ejecting co- pious volumes of tobacco juice from his foul mouth, he was a disgusting sight. Even Stanhope felt his gorge rise as he hailed him. "Hello there, Jenkins! You're late," said he. "Wull, Mister Stanhope," replied Jenkins, "whut ud ye have me do; drop into the arms uv that cussed Marsac's dep'ty, 'er use a little discretion 'n slip round um?" "What," said Stanhope, "is Marsac still on your trail? I thought you had fixed that little affair of yours safely." "Wull, I hevn't," growled Jenkins; "'nd I tell you whut, Mister Stanhope, I've got to git out uv this bloomin' landscape G d quick. Them ducks are gettin' too close fer comfort, 'nd I do like to have plenty of room to stretch in." "That's just what I wanted you for to-day," said Stanhope. "I've got a little job for you that will 5 6 UNCLE CARL take you far enough away. Got anything on hand now ?" "Naw ! bizniss is a leetle dull in my line jest now," replied the man. "What you got; a good fat job?" "That depends on how you look at it. If you do well there is good money in it for you. Let's go over to that grove; I expect a couple of men here every minute, and I wouldn't have them see your mug here for a good deal," said Stanhope as he walked toward a little clump of trees a short distance away, where they could be shielded from observation. "Humph! 'Shamed uv your compiny, be you?" muttered Jenkins as he slouched after him. "Wull, ye hain't near so d d 'shamed uv your compiny ez I be uv mine." Stanhope seated himself on a fallen log, and light- ing a cigar offered one to his companion. It was refused with a surly gesture, as, pulling a short black pipe from his pocket, which he filled and lighted, Jenkins announced his readiness to hear the details of the "little job." And while these two servants of Satan are concocting their schemes we will glance at our friends Englewood and Courtright, as, sitting on the veranda of their hotel and smoking their after-dinner cigars, they discussed their plans. The trustees had held their meeting, at which Courtright was present, and all business had been satisfactorily arranged for the present. It was decided that Courtright should have full power to act for his friend during his absence, subject to the approval of the court, and that he should be the legal adviser in any case. Stanhope had rather objected to this, but yielded to the wishes of his associate, thinking that he would be able to outwit them later. Little could be done until the UNCLE CARL 57 probate court had concluded measuring off its red tape; and Stanhope had no doubt but that he would find some way to gild his pockets during the years of Hattie Cramer's minority. Hattie was now at Nashville, Tennessee; and Carl, who had never seen her, had arranged that his old Sabbath-school teacher, Mrs. Hazelton, nee Armstrong, who was about to spend some time in the South, should stop there on her way and take the girl with her as the physician had recommended, she being in delicate health. Englewood felt perfectly free in doing this. The child was but twelve years old, and even if he had had a home to offer, he felt hardly able to train her and care for her as a good woman would. Mrs. Hazelton, who was now a widow, childless and in comfortable circumstances, would, he knew, be a true friend and earnest coun- selor. And he thought that, as she was willing to take the responsibility, he could not do better than to place the child in her care until such time as he could properly assume the charge. "And so Stanhope is the man you thought, is he?" asked Carl as he lighted a fresh cigar. "Yes," replied his friend, "and he is a man that must be watched closely. I don't know that any crime has ever been brought home to him, but he has, to say the least, been connected with some very shady transactions. It is less than three years since he was indicted for attempted bribery of the State Legisla- ture. But the matter was hushed up out of court. I would not care to say anything against him in public, because I have no absolute knowledge of his operations, and I might be doing him a wrong. But yet, I cannot meet the man without feeling that a ser- pent is next me." 58 UNCLE CARL "Well, I confess," said Englewood, "that the man does not impress me favorably. However, I trust you fully in these business matters, and I rather think that it will take a sharper man than Mr. Stanhope to get ahead of us." "I'll do the best I can," replied Courtright, "and will keep you posted. Of course, we cannot rely for much upon Estes; but I think he is an honest man; and then, the estate is in such shape that it will be hard to practice any swindling schemes in regard to it. And so you will go from here directly West, will you?" "Yes; I do not feel that I should waste much time in carrying out the wishes of my old friend. I am sorry though, that I cannot see my ward before I go; but to tell the truth my pocket-book is rather flat and P have hardly enough to carry me through as it is. No, no," he added as Courtright turned suddenly to him, "don't offer me a loan. I will get through all right, and my confidence in Mrs. Hazelton renders it unnecessary for me to see my ward at this time." "Carl Englewood," said Courtright, "of course, it's none of my business, but do you know, I think that you do yourself a wrong by parting so freely with your dollars. Charity and benevolence are all right in moderation; but you do more than your share. You should be comfortably fixed to-day, with the money you have made, but you have given so much that " "How do you know what I've done with my money?" asked Englewood rather gruffly. "Oh, I don't know, of course," said Courtright; "but when I see " "Well, then, don't accuse an utterly selfish man with spendthriftness," said Carl. UNCLE CARL 59 " a poor devil of a beggar," continued Court- right, disregarding the interruption, "to whom I had the day before given a dime, snugly ensconced behind a little stock of confectionery, and hear him express gratitude for the helpfulness of a certain tall gentle- man of my acquaintance. When I learn of flowers sent to the sick; of books, valuable books, to more than one struggling student; of wood furnished; rents paid, and a hundred other acts that would im- poverish a somewhat more corpulent purse than yours, I have a right to think that you give more than you should." "Who told you that I did all of these things?" asked Carl. "No one accused you of the crime directly," re- plied his friend; "but it is very easy to draw infer- ences. When I see a weather-cock pointing north, I am quite ready to believe that the wind comes from that direction. And when I see men, and women, and children pointing toward you with gratitude and hear them occasionally speak of good deeds done though they are forbidden to tell by whom ; when I see your purse, through which many hard-earned dol- lars have passed, almost empty; know that you abhor the vicious pleasures of life; that you spend but little on yourself; when I see many other signs of a self-neglect through a mistaken sense of duty, it is not difficult to understand from what direction the wind comes to these people I have mentioned." "Oh, pshaw ! I admit that I occasionally give a little, when I am sure of my ground," said Carl. "But I don't hurt myself when I do. I can get along all right, and Blame it! let's talk about some- thing else. I know myself better than you do or 6o UNCLE CARL any one else. I am selfish enough, as you will probably find out some day." "You are awfully afraid some one will think you are a good man, aren't you?" said Courtright. "Well, I like judgment," said Englewood, "but only when knowledge precedes it. In this case you don't know what you are talking about, therefore you are an unjust judge; and as I am not on trial with you, my friend, I shall not turn witness. Just believe if you can that I mean to live a fairly respect- able life and perhaps accomplish a little good in the world, and I ask no more." "You'll probably get a good deal more than you ask, then," replied Courtright. "What is the first duty of man?" asked Carl abruptly, after a pause. "I think I'll put you through your catechism." "To 'glorify God' is the correct answer, I believe," answered Courtright, with a smile. "Do you believe that, or are you just answering it so because you were taught it?" asked Englewood. "Well, to tell the truth, I never thought much about it; but I believe that that is as good an answer as I could manufacture," said Courtright, laughing. "Oh, be serious!" said Carl, with a slight frown. "You have been criticising me, and now I shall turn about and do the same by you. You treat religious matters rather too flippantly. I am not going to talk religion exactly; but when you speak of the church catechism as if it were a something manu- factured to order, instead of the outgrowth of deep and earnest thought, I think you are treating too lightly that which is sacred to many. We may dis- agree earnestly, but we do wrong to do so flippantly. UNCLE CARL 61 Neither do we do well to agree flippantly. So again I ask you, soberly, 'What is the first duty of man?' ' A something of dignified earnestness in Engle- wood's manner and tone drove the smile from his friend's face ; and looking off across the lake, an arm of which reaching inward for a few miles was visible from the hotel, he thought for a few moments before replying. At length he said: "Well, I cannot conceive of a better answer. What can be a higher duty than to give praise to the Creator, to worship Him, to glorify Him in all ways. Without Him we would not be; all that we have and are are His; and I would say with all earnest- ness, to Him be all the praise and the glory forever." "And yet," said Carl, "you have given me as an answer what you think is the 'highest* duty, while my question was what is the first duty. To God is all of the glory already; our praise will do Him no good, though I do not presume to say that it is unac- ceptable to Him. The Good Book seems to teach that He does wish it. But what I wish to get at is man's first duty." "I think I will have to refer that question back to you," said Courtright. "Perhaps I fail to catch your drift. What do you hold to be the first duty?" "Absolute sincerity," answered Carl, "in thought, in word, and in action. I hold that the chief, the highest duty of man, is to accomplish the greatest real good for as many of his fellows as possible that God is best glorified in this way. That if God is Love, no higher praise could be given Him than to live a life of love. But in order to best accom- plish this there is the prerequisite, the first duty, of absolute sincerity. The man who claims the wish to do good, who knows the need of earnest workers, and 62 UNCLE CARL yet blinds his eyes to the signs of distress on all sides and shuts his ears to the cries for succor, is not the sincere man. The man who gives lavishly for repu- tation's sake may do much good, but he could do more good were he sincere with himself. Hypocrisy in any form, in large or small things, in unspoken thoughts or in a sermon under the cloak of religion, is a hideous monster. For it invariably lessens the good that might be done if sincerity were in its place." "H'm," said Courtright, thoughtfully; "while I will not say that I agree with you entirely, especially in your sweeping denunciation of hypocrisy, I yet am inclined to think that you are in a measure right. What is your apprehension of the term 'sincerity'?" "Sincerity," replied Carl, "is the constant endeavor to establish and maintain a perfect harmony between our lives and our highest possible concep- tions of truth. While I realize that perfection is ever beyond our reach, that we can never realize our ideal in its fullness, yet our duty is to ever strive to approximate it more closely. There is nothing higher than truth; there must be discord if we are out of harmony with it. Our highest conception of truth may fall far short of the reality, but it is our best light; and if we deliberately or thoughtlessly shut it out in any degree, we are insincere; because we are wilfully untruthful in either thought, word or act. No two people ever see truth with the same eyes. It has a shade different light to give to each. Yet each should see for himself; should judge and act for himself, unless some misfortune forces him to rely upon others for vision, intellectual or otherwise. And according to this light should each see his duties for himself." UNCLE CARL 63 "That's good," said Courtright; "I think I follow you clearly, and I believe you are right. You get a good deal more out of that word than I have ever seen in it before, and its truth too. Now I would like to ask you for a definition of Truth." "And I refuse to give it," laughed Carl. "The catechetical interrogations emanate from the wrong quarter; in other words, / am putting you through your catechism. What is the first duty of man?" "Absolute sincerity," answered Courtright. "Are you a sincere man according to the cate- chism?" asked Carl. "I must confess that I fall far short many times. I have never thought of it as you have," replied Courtright. "But what trap are you laying for me?" "Do you believe that it is only by being absolutely sincere that a man can clearly see his duty?" asked Englewood. "I do. Hurry up; I'm getting anxious to know where I've lapsed, and it's about time we are starting for Stanhope's cottage," said Courtright. "Never you mind Stanhope until you've learned your lesson," laughed Carl. "I've only one more question to ask. Now then suppose that some man had done all and more than you have accused me of doing, and which I have not admitted that I did do. Suppose him to have been a sincere man, and to have concluded, according to his lights, that his duty lay in such work. What right have you who acknowl- edge that you are not sincere, and therefore are not in a position to judge clearly as to another's duty to say that he has neglected himself 'through a mis- taken sense of duty' ?" "Ah ha! I see," laughed his friend. "Well, I 64 UNCLE CARL acknowledge that I have no right. I believe that you are sincere, and you are certainly better able to judge as to your own duty than any one else. Engle- wood, you are a noble man." "Shut up ! I just wanted to convince you that I know what I am doing and have my eyes wide open. You don't know what 'noble' means or you wouldn't accuse me of it. I hate flattery," Englewood replied rather impatiently. "I don't mean to flatter you," said Courtright, "but if I may I would like to ask you a question." "Go ahead," replied Carl, "but don't give me any more taffy." "Do you abhor hypocrisy as much as your words seem to indicate?" asked Courtright. "Yes, most emphatically!" cried Englewood. "It is the most despicable sin of humanity." "Well, then," said Courtright, "tell me by what right you, as a sincere man and one who loves to give to others, dare stigmatize yourself as 'an utterly selfish man'?" Carl dropped his head for a moment, and then with a deprecating smile he clasped his friend's hand and said, "I guess it's time to start for Stanhope's cottage." CHAPTER VI Our friend Carl was something of a paradox to those who are unaccustomed to a sincere self-analysis and an earnestness in striving for absolute truth. That he did not attempt to answer Courtright's last question was not because he had no adequate answer to give, but because he knew that even so trusting and trustworthy a friend would not under- stand him. As the world views unselfishness, Carl was far from being an 'utterly selfish' man. He was ever ready to give of his material possessions. A kind word, and a helping hand, and a busy brain were ever ready at the call of suffering and need, either physical or mental. But Carl was in the habit of looking more deeply into himself. With him the motive showed the man it was the very soul of every deed, good or evil. A man might, according to his creed, give millions to the world and much good might result therefrom; but if the man's mo- tives were simply to gain worldly honor and the reputation of being a great philanthropist, Carl would not consider that he was an unselfish man simply because he had given so much, even though the world would receive and enjoy and be grateful for the good done; because, the motive was selfish. A man might spend many years in deep, patient study in the prosecution of some great scientific problem. He might reach the highest results; yet, if he prose- cuted his work solely for direct personal honor and the desire to make his name immortal, Carl would hold that we may receive the results of this man's 5 66 UNCLE CARL life and make use of them; they shall enter into the great world of knowledge and do much good; but the man who accomplished these things showed by his motive that he was utterly selfish and unworthy of that immortality which is given his name, albeit we may admire the ability that was able to consum- mate such great results. And Carl was too earnest a man to see these principles and apply them to others and not apply them to himself as well. Not that he was a fault- finder. The principles that he held were true to him, but he seldom individualized. He was too generous to accuse others of selfishness unless he had indubitable proof of it, and a good object to serve by criticism. Often in his hours of introspection he would trace the path back from action to motive; and so often would he find that he had given here, assisted there, and spoken the cheery word to the downcast with more thought of the pleasure it did and would give himself, than of the good it would yield to the recipient, that he would at times be dis- gusted with himself and cry out, "I, too, am utterly selfish." And it was in this sense that he used the words in talking with his friend, although he knew that they would not be understood. He was not altogether selfish even in this sense. His sympathies were easily aroused, his emotions strong and true, and he held that, although a man is entitled to no special commendation who does good from selfish motives, yet it is better to do it thus than to not do it at all. His ideals were high and he knew that he ought ever to strive to realize them. And if he could not draw nearer to them without thinking of himself, then he would climb toward them carrying his selfishness along, and perhaps little by little he UNCLE CARL 67 might be able to cast off some of his self-conscious- ness. He disliked to be called "good," and "benevo- lent," and "self-sacrificing," because he could see, as others could not, that self-interest was too often his prompter; he truly abhored hypocrisy and felt that to receive praise, when he felt himself undeserving, was to be a hypocrite. We, who are seldom troubled with such scruples, think that Carl was too severe with himself; that he was finicky; his ideas too far-fetched for every-day life; but we must admit that he was a true man in the highest sense of the term, for he insistently strived to live according to his best lights. And who shall say that, if what Carl thought were his motives could have been swept altogether away, there would not have been found beneath them the strongest, purest, and most heroic unselfishness; that, whether he was right or wrong in his self-analysis of motives, he would not have gone on in the same way, doing good as he had opportunity. True, we consider selfish- ness reprehensible ; yet, is it not one of nature's first laws? Physically it is so at least; and if with our higher moral ethics we now hold that self-sacrifice for the good of others is nobler, we yet must admit that, all other conditions being equal, self may rightly be given the preference; that is, if we can do more for the world by preserving than we could by sacri- ficing self, then by a strict following of the teachings of natural law, which is but another name for justice, it is not only our right but our duty to give self the preference, even though the applause of the world, which most of us love so well, would follow the man who> heroically sacrificed his life to save a venerable pauper imbecile from a violent death. The trouble is, we are not able to forecast all 68 UNCLE CARL results. We know neither our own powers nor the powers of those we would help. And, as Carl was wont to reason, our very inability to see forces us to take chances; and indeed it is this blindness that gives the chief zest to life. If we were all-wise able to see all ends we would become mere ma- chines and the battle of life would scarce be worth the living for us. And now let us follow the two friends as they drove down the avenue between the waving green of the noble maples, each silently enjoying an ideal summer day; past many beautiful houses and green lawns, and fragrant gardens; out into the country, past the fertile farms with their little clusters of build- ings, following for a time the winding course of a broad and beautiful river and entering finally a tract of timber land that stretched for two or three miles down to the verge of grand old Lake Michigan. And the birds sang, the insects hummed drowsily, an occasional squirrel would scamper along a fallen tree, a rabbit startled from its feed bounded away, and the two men enjoyed it all and gratefully inhaled the pure air as it came to them from the lake. Suddenly Carl placed his hand on Courtright's shoulder and pointed to two figures that could be seen at some rods distance to the left, through a vista of trees somewhat less closely set than the general forest. A man with his back toward the road was evidently talking with some vehemence to a girl, or woman, our friends were uncertain which, whom he held by the wrist with his left hand, while with his right he was apparently vigorously emphasizing his remarks. Mr. Courtright silently reined in the horses and the men watched the couple, each im- pressed with the same dread suspicion. As they UNCLE CARL 69 watched, the man suddenly threw his arms about the woman, who' with a stifled cry for help began a struggle for liberty. No longer in doubt, Carl bounded from the carriage and ran stumbling through the underbrush in the direction of the pair; while Courtright, after securing the horses to a tree, hastened after him. As Carl drew near, the frantic moans of the poor woman, mingled with the mut- tered curses of the assailant, reached him. "Oh, let me go! Let me go!" she cried. "I'll die first. You cannot." "Keep still, damn ye! I tell ye, yuh wull. I'll hev all the kisses I want, 'nd more uv yeh then thet too. Curse ye! scratch, wull ye? Wull then, take thet, an' thet, an' " But here the man, with his hand raised to strike a third blow, felt a grip as of steel on his neck; and loosening his hold of the poor girl, who fell moaning on the soft earth, he tried to face his assailant. But Carl, who had scarce reached them in time, fairly lifted him from the ground, and with a wonderful strength for one of so light a build hurled him from him with such force that, his head striking a tree as he fell, he lay like a log, insensible. Turning then to the poor girl, he sought to calm her; while Court- right, now on the scene, stood over the wretch ready to prevent any attempt at escape. It was wonderful to note how a strong, earnest character can subdue and soothe. It needed but a word from Englewood, as he laid his hand on the almost hysterical girl's head, to recall her to self-control and quiet. His words were simple, but his deep voice vibrated with sympathy and strength. "All safe now, child," he said. "Don't distress yourself longer." And in a moment her moaning 70 UNCLE CARL ceased, and with a glance upward at the kind face bending over her, she slowly rose to her feet as she clasped the extended hand of her deliverer. She was the daughter of a neighboring farmer, plump and fair to look upon, and had been strolling through the woods enjoying the beautiful day, when she was suddenly seized by the eager wretch at her feet. After a few words with Courtright, Carl left him to guard the conquered rascal and supported the girl to her home; learning on the way her name and circumstances. Returning shortly, he said to Court- right : "Well, I suppose we'll have to take the fellow to town with us." "Not necessarily," said Courtright. "I don't see that it is any of our quarrel. Let's give the fiend a good thrashing and let him go. We can't afford to stay here for trial." "Oh, shame on you, Courtright!" replied Carl. "What's duty good for if we can't sacrifice a little for it? This whelp is a dangerous man to let loose." "Don't you think that we can punish him better than the law could?" asked Courtright, who was angry enough at this moment to inflict almost any torture on the captive. "Oh ! calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are a little out of your head, I'm afraid. What good would it do for us to give him a good whipping and then let him go again, even if we might lawfully do so? Would it deter him from like action in the future? And then, too, it is not altogether for the good of such as he that we punish, but for the good of the people. Animals of this sort should be placed where they cannot do harm; and that is where our UNCLE CARL 71 duty comes in. I do not see that we have any right to let him go." "But, we'll have to stay here for several days, Englewood. And neither of us can do that now," argued Courtright. "Yes we can," replied his friend, "though at some loss of time. But it seems to me that duty points that way. And so do you, don't you?" Courtright smiled faintly as he replied, "Well, yes. I suppose so. But you are more willing to do your duty than I am. I don't want to stay. However, I suppose there's no help for it, since you insist." After a brief consultation the two decided to take their prisoner on to Stanhope's cottage, near which they now were, and get his assistance in further pro- ceedings. The man had by this time regained con- sciousness, and his red-rimmed eyes leered at them as he heard their intentions. "Well, get up, fellow !" said Courtright, suddenly turning and pushing him with his foot. "We must hurry on." With a muttered curse the man rose to his feet and started toward the deeper woods. "Not that way," said Courtright. "You are going with us to a safer place." "Wull, I guess not," said the man, turning toward him. "I'm goin' this way. 'Nd don't ye try fer to stop me if ye keer anythin' for that alabaster hide uv yourn." Courtright started after the man, whose evident intention was to get away from them; but Carl re- strained him, saying quietly, "Let me manage him. You, sir," he said, addressing the miscreant, "will go with us. Go that way," pointing toward the road. 72 UNCLE CARL "We will follow after. It is a case of must for you, so march!" Englewood's manner was firm, his voice clear and steady; for a moment he looked sternly at the man, with an expression that plainly said, "It is my will, therefore it is useless to struggle. Go !' We have heard that even the fiercest beasts of the jungle are sometimes cowed by the clear, unflinching eye of man; and it seemed even so with this man. After returning Carl's gaze for a moment his eyes fell and he shambled off down the road, Englewood follow- ing a short distance behind and Courtright driving the horses slowly after. In this manner they reached the cottage, where Stanhope, impatient at the delay, was angrily chew- ing the stub of his cigar on the porch. The captive appeared in view first, and Stanhope was about to address him with a curse, when he saw Englewood walking two or three yards behind. Say- ing under his breath as he passed him, "Hush, don't let any one know that I know you," Stanhope ad- vanced to Carl with extended hand and hearty greet- ing. "I'd about given you up," he said. "And where is your friend? Ah, you are too late to enjoy the best of our quiet retreat, but there are still beau- ties in store. Oh, there's Mr. Courtright," as the horses appeared. "I'll " "A moment, Mr. Stanhope," said Englewood, in- terrupting him. "We have a captive with us and may need your advice," and he gave a hurried ac- count of the recent scene, while Jenkins stood sullenly by. "I guess we can take care of the scamp all right," said Stanhope. "We had better lock him up in the back room for the present, and take him to town UNCLE CARL 73 with us when we return later. Such rascals should be made an example of." Procuring some rope, Jenkins was bound and locked in the shed at the rear of the cottage; and then the three men sat on the porch with their cigars enjoying, each in his own way, the glories of the dying day. Their talk, after discussing finally a few business matters, was of a desultory nature, and they were all glad when the time came to return to town. Upon going for their captive, however, the man was not to be found. The ropes were lying on the floor, having been somewhat loosely tied by Stanhope, and an open window indicated the manner of escape. Whether the two friends suspected Stanhope's col- lusion or not, does not matter. Each kept his own counsel. The following day the two returned to Chicago, where, after so arranging his affairs as to insure their safe conduct during his absence, Carl took leave of his friend and departed for the far West. CHAPTER VII In a "private box" of the "Theatre Comique," in a Montana city, a man of some thirty years was mak- ing a rapid pencil sketch of a scene familiar to the habitues of that half-way house to perdition. A gen- eral correspondent for a popular Eastern publication, he was under orders to detail 'the life and the more potent life-influences of the far West; and his work brought him into contact with all classes, from the highest to the lowest. In that country he met some of the noblest of the sons and daughters of the Great Mother; witnessed unselfishness, self-sacrifice and courageous daring of the highest order; as well as sin and cowardice and self-seeking of the lowest. And all the way between the two extremes an army of restless individuals were struggling. Some up- ward with healthy ambition; many moving down- ward toward the hells and brothels; and all seem- ingly imbued with a restless activity whichever way they moved. The "Theatre Comique" was often spoken of as the stepping-stone between the orderly gilded halls of the high-class gambling houses and the lowest haunts of vice and debauchery. A stranger in the city, with time hanging heavily on his hands, would often go to this place for amusement. Many a young man coming West in search of fortune, lured by the higher wages, the freer competition, the hope of "striking it rich," the spirit of adventure or what- not, has roamed the city's streets friendless and lonely. Has perhaps watched the games in the gambling places; perchance ventured a few dollars UNCLE CARL 75 there, and then gone out on the street again. Anon, the brilliantly lighted entrance and the flaming posters promising "high-class vaudeville" lure him into this hall, and unless he be stronger, and with higher ideals than many he is on a fair road to the foul swamp of iniquity to which this is a gateway. This place is the type of many scattered through- out the newer West. The lower floor is furnished with chairs and tables, where, for a small admittance fee, one may sit and enjoy, or endure, according to his mental inclination, the performances on the stage. These are often of a high class, but more often are suggestive of license. Numerous young girls move in and out amongst the audience, urging the guests to order liquor, sitting at table with them, and ex- tending and receiving physical caresses unblushingly. These girls are given a check by the house with each order, for a certain percentage of the cost; and thus, with a particularly weak or reckless customer, some- times reap a large harvest during an evening. The second floor is devoted to the "private boxes," where a patron may have his order filled and enjoy the com- pany of the fair waitress behind drawn curtains, if he is so inclined. But always the occupant of a box is expected to send at least one order to the bar. The third floor is devoted to private "wine- rooms," where, with easy chairs and couches, one may stay with "his girl" until his cash is exhausted. It was in this place that our correspondent had oc- cupied a box. An untasted order for liquor was on the table and sketch-book in hand. In a box on the opposite side of the house, with the curtains partially drawn, was a typical scene which his pencil was transferring to the paper. A well-dressed, intelligent-appearing young man 76 UNCLE CARL was seated in an easy chair. A young girl, fair to look upon, he had drawn to his knee, his arm about her waist; while in the background appeared a waiter with bottle and glasses on a tray. Having finished the sketch he placed pencil and book in his pocket and sat idly watching a raucous-voiced mono- logue artist, while his thoughts wandered amidst far different scenes back in the land of the Alleghenies. Aroused by a knock on the box door, he called, "Enter," when, the door opening, he was surprised to see the young girl he had just sketched somewhat timidly approach. Her manner was not of that coarseness to which he had been accustomed in em- ployees of this place. Her clothing, while of cheap materials, was clean and tasteful, her person neat; and one could readily see that she was not an old hand at this kind of work. In age she might have been fifteen years. "I beg your pardon," said she, "but I saw that you were alone, and thought you might like company. You know" as she noted his somewhat unrespon- sive face "that is what we girls are here for." The man looked at her earnestly for a few moments without speaking. It seemed to him that here was a choice rose in a garden of poisonous weeds. The girl's face on near view was one of re- finement; the features clear cut and regular; the large brown eyes frank and expressive, looking at him with a pleading, somewhat shamefaced yet un- decided manner, as if to say, "I ought to ask you to order something to drink, and yet and yet I hate to do it." Her whole person seemed to say, "I am out of my natural element." Harshly at last the man blurted out, "What are you here for?" UNCLE CARL 77 "Why," she replied hesitatingly, "to keep you company." "I do not mean that," he said; "but what are you in this house for? You ought to be at home with your mother and father. Home, do you hear; not in the company of such outcasts as you find here." The girl's lips quivered as he said this, and the brown eyes filled with tears as she bowed her head. "I have no father, nor mother," she sadly replied. "I am here because I have no home, no friends, no other place to go, and no money to Oh, Heaven! I wish I was dead," and with a sob she sank into a chair and buried her face in her arms as she leaned forward on the table. "There, there," the man placed his hand on the bowed head. "I didn't mean to hurt you like this. But I know that you are out of place here. Sit up and tell me about yourself. Perhaps I can see a way out for you." A sympathetic tone, the firm cool hand on her head, seemed to quiet the girl. Slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He was a man somewhat above medium height, rather slender in build, but with that indefinable grace and ease of motion which tells of sinews of steel. His face almost reminded one O'f the "Man of Sorrows," so full was it of sympathy and drawn with the lines of care and suf- fering. His eyes, however, were his strongest feat- ure. Of a blue that sometimes changed under the influence of emotions to almost black, they seemed to look into one's inmost soul, while at the same time there seemed to come from them an almost magnetic influence that drew one to them in spite of himself. Looking into his eyes one could think of nothing but 78 UNCLE CARL Truth; one felt that behind them lay a pure soul an honest man. "Come," he said, "tell me about it. You need a friend; perhaps I can find one for you." "I don't know why it is, sir," said the girl. "You are a stranger to me, and yet I do need a friend, and something tells me to trust you with my story. But yet I doubt if a man who comes to such a place as this for amusement could be a true friend to such as I." "I am not here for amusement, as you think, but as an observer. I am gathering material as corre- spondent of a New York paper," the man replied. "That reminds me," said the girl, "of what I came in here for. I saw you sketching me and I wanted to see what you drew. May I see it?" "Well, not just now," he answered. "Perhaps I will let you see it later. I don't ask for your confi- dence, girl, yet, if you are so inclined, I would be glad to know how it happens that you are in such a place." The girl hesitated a few moments, and then with an impulsive movement, as if she shouldered aside all doubt, she told him her brief history. "My mother," she said, "died when I was born. I was twelve years old when my father at his death left me in care of a guardian, who, as my health was poor, sent me South in hope of restoring me. I was living at a boarding-school at the time, and my guardian whom I had never seen wrote that he had sent a lady who would have charge of me dur- ing my girlhood and who would give me all needed care. I was to meet her at the depot and go on with her to the South. As I had no living relatives and few friends, it was easy to pack up my few belong- UNCLE CARL 79 ings, and I was ready when the train arrived. As I stood on the platform uncertainly looking around me, a woman approached me and said, 'Is this Hattie?' I replied, 'Yes.' And then she called a man to her and told him to call a hack. 'Why,' I said, 'I thought we were to go on this train.' 'No,' she said, 'we ain't; I've got to see some chums of mine here and we won't go till to-morrow.' I didn't like this woman; she seemed so different from those I had been used to, sort of bold; and she wasn't dressed nice, and she didn't talk nice ; but then, if my guardian had sent her, I had to go with her, of course. She took me to a common boarding-house and left me till the next morning, when she and the man who had called a hack at the depot called for me and we took a train. The man was rough look- ing and very dirty, and I thought he might be her servant, only they were so very familiar. They talked coarse, too, and I thought it very strange that my guardian should have put me in the care of such people. I remember once she asked him if he 'got rid of the kid all right,' and he said, 'Bet your life, Liz. The fool uv a woman made fer the kid like a cow fur her calf; put her arms around the young un an' hauled the brat onto the train instanter. I didn't even hev time to wish 'er bung viyage.' 'Ha, ha!' the woman laughed, 'she'll have a darn good time bringing up that girl, I tell you. Her dad was 'bout as low as they make 'em.' Then the man pulled out a flask and they both drank out of it. I was very tired, and before long I was asleep, curled up on a seat just in front of them. Late in the afternoon I was awakened by some one rudely shaking me, and looking up met the eyes of the man. " 'Here, young un,' he said, 'you've slep' long 8o UNCLE CARL enuff. Git up ! We got to git out here for lunch,' and grabbed my arm and dragged me to the plat- form. Half bewildered, I asked where the lady was. 'The what?' he said. 'Lady! Oh, you mean Liz.' He seemed immensely pleased, and laughed heartily, finally saying, 'Why, young un, Liz ain't no lady; she's jest one uv the girls what runs a house daown at St. Loo. She got off an hour ago.' " 'But why didn't she take me?' I asked. 'My guardian said I was to go with her.' And then real- izing that I had been deserted and left at the disposal of this awful man, I burst out crying. At this the man seized me by the arm again and shook me, at the same time threatening me with all sorts of dread- ful things if I didn't stop blubbering* Well, to make a short story of it, he bought a lunch at the depot and then put me on the train with a ticket through to Salt Lake City, and thrusting a five-dollar bill in my hand told me I would find some one waiting for me at the end of my journey. What was I to do? I was alone, friendless, and only twelve years old, and without experience in the world. It seemed to me that the only thing for me to do was to go on, and I did so. No one met me at Salt Lake, and having no money, except the five dollars the man gave me, and that was soon gone, I tried to get work; but somehow no one wanted such a child as I. I worked for a while in a restaurant kitchen, but I was not strong enough and was discharged. I tried several places, but without success, until finally a woman took me in and said she had a good place for me. It was a large house, and my work was just to sweep and dust and keep things tidy. I noticed she had many men callers, and several of them brought women with them ; but it was not for several weeks UNCLE CARL 81 that I learned that it was a vile resort I was working in ; and then I fled one night, and with a few dollars in my pocket which I had saved I went first to Ogden and then came here. "I have tried hard to get respectable work to do, but somehow I don't seem to be able to hold a posi- tion long; and finally a woman told me of this place, and how I could make lots of money here; and I thought that if I could only save enough to get back East I would do most anything. But, oh ! I have to submit to such awful things here. Still, I can do it," and the girl straightened up with a decided little shrug. "I have kept straight so far, and I know that I can keep myself straight, and it pays well. I have made seven dollars to-day." "But, girl," asked the man, "why don't you write to your guardian; he surely would do something to help you?" "I don't know his name," said the girl. "The only letter I had from him he signed just 'Your Guardian,' and said he was going West." "But your father's friends," he said, "have you not written them?" "I don't know any of them," she replied. "Papa put me in the boarding-school as soon as I was old enough, and I seldom saw him, and he never told me about his business. I don't even know where he lived, for he wrote me from so many different places. I wrote back to the school I left, but no one there seems to know more than I do. But I guess I'll do all right now; I can make some money here even if I don't like it." "But, my child, the influences of such a place as this must drag you down very low." 6 82 UNCLE CARL The girl suddenly straightened up with a strange dignity, and she flushed as she replied, "Sir, I have kept myself clean so far and I can continue to do so. I am different from those," and she waved her hand toward the girls on the floor below. "Are you?" said the man. "How many of those girls, do you suppose, started with just the confidence you express in your ability to keep clean? How many of them are straight?" "I don't know, sir," she responded; "but I do know that I can make money here, and keep myself right too. I thought that I might perhaps find a friend in you, but if you want to preach I prefer to leave you. I would like to see that picture though. I don't know that I would care to have any one that knew me in the old days see a picture of me as I must have looked in that box yonder; and you have no right to publish it without my consent." Poor child ! Here was a problem. In a fair way to be drawn to the lowest depths, yet with a pride that would not allow of a word of caution. Should he attempt to tell her of what she would come to, vileness of a nature of which she had yet had, com- paratively, but a faint glimpse, it would but repel her from him. She had a pride in her own strength, young girl as she was, that would resent any sugges- tion that she would fall; and she but little realized how insidious and unfailing are the continued in- fluences for evil to be found in such a place as this. Finally he said to her: "I will not show you the sketch now, I wish to finish it first; but I will be here the day after to- morrow, and if you will come to me I will let you see it, and I promise to not publish it without your consent. I must go now ; but first I want to ask you UNCLE CARL 83 to go to your room at once. I don't like to think of leaving you in such a place." "Oh, I'll quit for to-day," she replied. "I've made enough for to-day anyhow. But I shall look for you day after next. Good night." "Good night, girl," he responded, and with a final, searching look from him they separated. CHAPTER VIII On the appointed evening our correspondent had hardly ensconced himself in the box at the theatre, when, with a timid knock at the door, the young girl who had so interested him entered. The man bowed gravely, and placing a chair for her stood looking down at the fair face, the well-shaped head. Some- how her forlorn condition appealed strongly to him. Poor girl ! Fatherless, motherless, friendless, home- less. Her features, indicating a natural refinement, were yet, thus early in life, beginning to show a hard- ness which contact with a rough world and careless associates so surely brings. Without the uplifting hand of a friend soon, it was easy to foretell the end ; and yet he was a man she as yet a pure girl. Doubtless she would resent any suggestion from him that she would ever be anything but pure. Blind she was; not to the influences by which she was sur- rounded, but to the power of those influences over her. As one may not remain in an atmosphere of noxious gases for long and retain physical health, so one may not live long with immoral associates and retain the purity of mind, the healthy morals, the high ideals which are the best of life. He felt confi- dent that she was worth an effort, and it was his pur- pose to save her if he could. "My girl," he said, "I have brought the pictures as I promised, but before showing them to you I want to say just a few words. When I talked with you the other evening I did not ask your name. What may I call you?" UNCLE CARL 85 "My name," she replied, after a moment's hesita- tion, "is Braton Hattie Braton." "Well, Miss Braton," he said, "I am not going to preach to you. You know what you are doing; and though you do not, I think, realize what the future may have in store for you if you continue in your present course, yet I earnestly hope that you will come out all right. I want you to know, however, that you have deeply interested me, and I feel a strong desire to see you grow upward; to see you surrounded by conditions which I feel sure are more suitable to your character. I wish to offer you a real friendship; a helpful friendship. You will find my card with this packet, and if after you have examined the pictures you should feel inclined to accept the services of a true friend, I would be glad to have you call upon me. I am going to ring for the waiter now, as the house must have its due for the use of this box." So saying, he touched the bell, and a waiter appearing he gave an order for liquor. Pay- ing the reckoning, and, when the servitor had left, emptying the wine on the floor, he continued : "I want you to examine these pictures by yourself; to think; to meditate. I shall leave the house now, but will see that you remain undisturbed. Remem- ber that you may call on me if you want such a friend as I. And if you think that you can fully trust me, I may be able to help you." The girl had sat quietly listening, impressed not so much by what he said as by his manner. "I thank you," she said, "for your kind wishes; but I think that I will be able to take care .of myself. However, if I should need a friend I believe that you would be one that I could trust. "Well, I will bid you good night," said he, "and 86 UNCLE CARL will hope to see you again," and placing the packet in her hands he abruptly left. Outside the door he beckoned to the waiter, and putting a coin in his palm directed that the girl be not disturbed for half an hour, and left the house. The girl, thus left alone, slowly untied the twine about the package. "An unusual man," she thought, "a strong man, and I think a good one. But he is much mistaken if he thinks that I cannot take care of myself. Only, I am so lonely ! Oh ! papa, papa, why did you leave me in charge of a guardian who cares so little what becomes of me!" and the tears formed in the brown eyes. "If I only had a home and some one to care for and to care for me. Some- thing to work for besides just bread and butter. But out in this country every hand seems to be against me, except those hands which I shudder at when they touch me. Oh, for one clean, honest friend !" Removing the wrapper she found the contents of the package to be four excellently executed pen sketches, which at first so angered her that she started impulsively to tear them across. But she hesitated, attracted by the clean, bold strokes that showed, even to her untrained eyes, the hand of a true artist; and as she studied them more closely the real meaning of the pictures and the intent of the man in giving them to her unfolded. The sketches formed a series, the first of which represented a young couple walking down a passage- way which she recognized as of the floridly orna- mented "Theatre Comique." Their backs were turned, the man's arm approaching the girl's waist, and the title was, "Let's take a box." The second of the series was labelled "In the Box," and was the scene which the man was sketching when she first UNCLE CARL 87 saw him ; and she shamefacedly turned it over. The artist had succeeded in reproducing the features of the young couple with exactitude, and she felt again the shudder as her companion had drawn her reluct- ant form to his knee. Yet it was a matter of "busi- ness"; he expected to be allowed such familiarity in return for buying the "drinks" ; and it was from the sale of the "drinks" that she derived her checks. But it was awful, after all, to see it pictured out in all of its horrid reality like this. Surely, she would never allow this to be published. She turned to the third of the series. This was a double sketch, labelled "The Next Day." The left half represented an office with a desk covered with the morning's mail; a clock on the wall indicated the hour of twelve. At the desk sat her companion of the box, his face showing the effects of a night's dissipation, his dress untidy, his hair ruffled as he lounged over his work; and the words "Unfit for Business" were written underneath. The right half represented the sleeping apartment of the girl im- aginary, of course. The clock on the dresser marked the hour of twelve, the clothing carelessly thrown over a chair and littering the floor, and the girl still in bed, yawning and stretching her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face indicating a languid wretch- edness, and underneath, the words, "Well, I made seven dollars out of him, anyhow." The fourth sketch, also a double one, was labelled "Five Years After." The left half showing the man in a prison cell, the right half showing the girl, be- draggled and hard of feature, sitting on the curb- stone before a dilapidated "dance house," her feet in the gutter, while a burly policeman was saying to her, "Come now, move on or I'll run you in." 88 UNCLE CARL As the full meaning of these prophetic pictures dawned upon her, the girl's face, at first flushed with anger, assumed a subdued reflective expression; and then her eyes filled with big tears as she leaned her cheek against her palm, her elbow on the wine- stained table before her, and looked unseeingly at the vulgar dancer on the stage, and heard without heed- ing the strident tones of an indelicate song. "My God! Is it true? Is that what I am coming to? I feel that he is right; and yet I was so sure that I could keep pure, until I saw him. And if he would only preach like other people I would be sure yet. I could defend myself if he talked to me; but these pictures, they are so real. Oh! what shall I do, what can I do!" and the poor, lonely victim buried her face in her arms and sobbed. Fathers, mothers, guardians, all of you who have the responsibility laid upon you of guiding a human life, ask yourselves if you have any excuse for ne- glecting in any degree those safeguards which shall keep the young souls in a pure atmosphere, until with mature years and clear vision they can map out their own course. Do not overlook the possibility of your plans failing. Hattie Braton's father had no expecta- tion of dying; and so, overlooking the possibility of the miscarriage of his plans, neglected the very ordi- nary precaution of informing his child and her in- structors of his home and condition. A sin ; a great sin, of neglect. Her guardian, without thought of the possibility of evil consequences, was equally guilty. Not even his name given in his letters to his ward, delegating his powers to still a third party, when his duty was to be personally assured of her well-being. Had these two done their full duty we would not UNCLE CARL 89 have before us this poor, forlorn, forsaken little girl, sobbing amidst the wretched debauchery of this evil place. As the girl finally raised her tear-washed face and gathered up the sketches, a card fell upon the table. She picked it up and read, "CARL ENGLEWOOD, ^'Correspondent New York S , "Room 1 8, Asman Hotel." CHAPTER IX "Here, youse knuckle down !" cried a boy's voice. "I be knucklin' down," was the rejoinder as an "alley" shot across the rude circle scratched in a level stretch of ground, in the suburbs of the city of Rock Gulch, Montana. A half-dozen little street- arabs were gathered together, intent on one of the familiar old games of "mibs" ; and their voices rose high in altercation as they differed in their opinion as to the respective fairness of the several players. Sud- denly there was a push, a scuffle, and then two of the number were rolling over and over in a boyish fight. One of the boys, somewhat larger in size than the combatants, started in to separate the fighters. Seiz- ing each by a shoulder he strove to pull them apart, at the same time apostrophizing them for breaking up the game. "Youse gol darned kids is allus a scrappin' !" he cried. "W'y the deuce don't you play fair! One er t'other on you keeps niggin' ever' chanc't you git." "Jack started it," said one; "he swiped my mib, an' he didn't even hit it." "I did too hit it!" said Jack. "I knocked it clean outen the ring." "You gol darn fool," said the other, "you didn't neither; you didn't knuckle down neither, 'nd I kin jest knock the daylights outen you." "Come on then !" retorted Jack. "I don't 'low no kid to call me a fool," and the two struggled to re- new the contest, when one of the onlookers suddenly cried : "Shet up, you fellers, here comes a parson." UNCLE CARL 91 The boys suddenly stopped their noisy quarrel and stood about the circle, as a tall gentleman, dressed neatly in black, drew near. "Parson be blowed !" said the boy who had parted the fighters. "That ain't no parson; that's the swell guy that took some uv us kids to the play the other night. He's all right, too, you bet ! Me, an' Jack, an' Pete Sims, an' Skinny Nelson, an' three or four other kids was lookin' at the show bills an' wishin' we c'ud git in, w'en he come along an' said he'd take us all in. An' he did too. An' he didn't git no nig- ger heaven seats neither, jest took us right inter the front row. He's all right, he is, but he ain't no par- son." "Bet yer life he's all right, Ralph!" said Jack. "An' I kin lick the stuffin' out uv any kid as says he ain't." The gentleman, as he reached the boys, stopped with a "Good morning, boys; having a game of mibs?" "Yes, sir," said Ralph; "leastways we was playin', but the kids got to scrappin' an' so the game is broke up." "Broke up, is it?" said Carl Englewood, for he it was. "Well, well ! Always play fair, boys, and then there'll be no need to fight. I used to like to play mibs myself," he added musingly. "Shouldn't won- der if I could play a pretty good game yet. Lend me a mib, Ralph, and let's see what kind of a shot I can make." Putting a marble in the center of the circle and giving Carl a "shooter," Ralph said: "Youse got ter knuckle down, mister; anybody can hit it if he don't knuckle down." Carl shot and missed, and the boys nudged each other and grinned as he tried again and again, 92 UNCLE CARL finally hitting the mark squarely and knocking it clear out of the ring. "My fingers are a little stiff," he said. "I haven't played mibs since I was a boy; but I really believe that I would like to play a game. Come on, all of you, let's see who's the best player." The boys gleefully, wonderingly placed their marbles in the ring; and soon all were deeply en- grossed in the game. Once Jack tried to cheat a little, but Carl's quiet, "Play fair, my boy, play fair; that's always best in the long run," shamed him into good behavior. So busy were they that they were oblivious to the fact that a man had stopped a few feet distant and was watching with amazement the immaculate Englewood, as he stooped down to make a difficult shot. Striking the mark fairly, the boys, forgetting that he was not himself a boy, shouted with approval, "Youse is all right! Hurray for you, that's a good un! You ain't no slouch." As the noise subsided the players were startled by the voice of the waiting gentleman. "Mr. Englewood," he said, "when you can spare the time, may I speak with you ?" "Certainly," said Carl. "We are just about through here. Well, boys, I guess you've beaten me fairly. Now come with me and I'll treat. Mr. Stuart, if you'll walk down to the corner with us I'll be at your service in a moment. Come boys." And followed by the boys the two men made their way to a nearby drug store, where ice-cream-soda was duly served to the youngsters. After the men had disappeared, Ralph Deneen, who was an acknowledged leader of his associates, voiced the sentiments of the boys by saying : "Didn't I tell youse he's all right? He ain't no cheap skate. He's a gent, he is. 'Nd if he ever UNCLE CARL 93 wants to play with my shinny club youse bet he kin. He's all right, he is!" "You bet he's all right!" the others repeated. "You are a strange man, Englewood," said Mr. Stuart, as the two walked toward their hotel. "Who would ever think that such a dignified, sober-looking man as you would be found playing marbles with a lot of dirty children; on the public highway, too. I don't understand how you could do it. I know that I wouldn't do it for a thousand dollars." "Why wouldn't you?" asked Englewood. "Any- thing wrong in it?" "Nothing criminal, I guess," said Stuart, smiling; "but so lowering to one's dignity; so silly, it seems to me. What would people think to see you in such a ridiculous position." "What matters it what people think, if they do not know the motives? But, since you ask the ques- tion, what do you think of it? Do you respect me any the less, has your regard changed in the least degree, are you in any measure ashamed to be seen walking with a full-grown man who likes to play mibs with the boys?" "No; oh, no! Not that," answered Stuart. "But I know you; you are so different from any man I have known, and yet, I well, I couldn't do such a thing as that; it is so undignified, to say the least." "Now, do you know," replied Englewood, "I de- cidedly disagree with you ! Dignity is something more than conventional austerity; it is an upright, clean, strong character that is the basis of all true dignity. The person who possesses that lends a dignity to all that he undertakes; and nothing that he does, no employments, amusements, occupations, can detract from his dignity so long as he remains pure; rather, 94 UNCLE CARL he adds a dignity to his employment. I think that the undignified man is the one who, in his heart, longs for certain pleasures or employments, in them- selves clean, and refrains from indulgence only for fear the world would judge him puerile. I doubt if the man lives who, having been a boy, a real, live boy, does not sometimes recall those days with pleasure and really feel a wish to indulge again in the innocent games of childhood. Every right- minded man, I think, has such feelings. There is nothing dishonorable, nothing undignified, I think, in that feeling. Why then conceal it as a something of which to be ashamed? Simply, I think, that a man wants to appear to be what he is not; all serious brain and no heart to speak of; no fresh, loyal sym- pathy for the nonsense of life which gives a rest, and adds strength and zest for the pursuit of the more sober duties. Just a bit of hypocrisy, is it not? The true man need have no fear that he will lose respect or dignity by acting his life as it is within him. It is only the man untrue or in doubt, who cringes be- fore public opinion." "That may all be so," replied Stuart; "but is it not also true that people cannot, by the very limita- tions of their intellect, judge of the character of a man save as his actions show what may be in him? A man who, for instance, plays marbles with a lot of ignorant rag-a-muffins,, pardon me, I do not mean to irritate you, I only seize the illustration at hand, while his dress and manner indicate him to be a man of some probable consequence in the world. Would not the people be justified in thinking that a man who can so lightly regard ordinary convention- alities would also lightly regard the conventionalities in the serious affairs of life? Would you not your- UNCLE CARL 95 self prefer to trust your important affairs to the man who, by steady, persevering, hard-headed energy has proved his ability to work out his problems success- fully; rather than to the man who, no matter what his ability, shows himself ready to be swayed by the fleeting emotions of the minute? I hold that con- ventionality, while often made to cover the real self, yet serves a good purpose, a necessary purpose ; and that a man shows a lack of inner as well as outer dignity who* too flagrantly disregards its rules." "There is truth in what you say," replied Engle- wood. "But because it does not cover all of the truth it is deceptive. Without question the conven- tions of society are necessary, and we should all con- form to them in great measure ; but not to the extent of losing our individuality. Those who abide hard and fast by the set rules of conventional life become mere machines; all alike in the fear that some one may think them human beings, with the power of in- dividual thought and action; afraid to take advan- tage of opportunities to increase the sunshine in life for a 'lot of ignorant rag-a-muffins,' as you call them, for fear that some one may think they have a heart filled with love for humanity, and emotions that force a sympathy for even the childish joys and sorrows. I can answer your query in the decided negative. I would not prefer the haughty, hard-headed man as my man of business to the intelligent man who re- members his childhood. I prefer the man of heart to the man of ice in business affairs, even if less suc- cessful financially. For I believe that the man of heart is much nearer being a man of honor, than is the man who stultifies all of the nobler emotions on the plea that business must necessarily be soulless. Nor do I concede that the people would have any 96 UNCLE CARL right to judge; nor do I believe that many would judge adversely the man who takes delight in getting out with the children, playing childish games with them, and dancing and yelling like an Indian, getting and giving genuine pleasure by his antics. It is a brief relaxation which all men need; and I am sorry for the man who is incapable of it. Whether it be public or private makes no difference. It is nothing of which to be ashamed. No one whose opinion is of value will respect him less; many will even envy him his ability to throw care to the winds for the moment. No one whose judgment is of value will estimate his character from this moment of non- sense, for it is only one small phase of his life. But let this be remembered : in the moment of relaxation, as well as in the serious work of life, the real char- acter of every man is in some measure shown. The man who walks through a garden of beautiful flow- ers and the man who passes through a glue factory, must each carry with him some of the odor in his garments. And so the man of purity and truth will add dignity and carry a fragrance even into a game of 'hide and seek'; and the man of impurity and dishonor will carry a foulness even into the most ele- vated social circles. A man's nature will show itself in spite of all conventionalities." U A11 of this is true enough in theory," replied Stuart, "but you must admit that in the major affairs of life much must be kept secret. Your position is an ideal one. Things should be as you say, but you well know that they are not so. But few people look at life as you do, and it is necessary in order to suc- ceed in life to cover up our real selves; to be 'hypo- crites,' as you call it. Otherwise, there would be no great progression, either in the business or social UNCLE CARL 97 world. The statesman could never accomplish much if he told all the world every detail of his work; be- cause the world would surely misinterpret." "Again I disagree; but," said Englewood, "I am glad that, by inference, you concede that it is not a question of dignity so much as expediency that you raise. I do not hold that all means to a given end should always be divulged; for, as you say, many, not understanding, would misjudge. But the char- acter of the man who makes use of means to accom- plish certain results should be known fully. The people are not blind; they can see and feel and know whether a man is trustworthy or not; and if he is clean, and pure, and able, they will trust him with the work. As Dickens has said, 'All good ends can be worked out by good means. Those that cannot are bad.' No man has a right to assume a character that he has not. Hypocrisy is a sin with which I have no patience. 'That alone is worth striving for which is clean and without a single fold of duplicity,' and if I want to play a game of blind-man's-buff, I shall not, for fear of losing my dignity, try to im- press upon the world that I am above such childish- ness. He really loses dignity who assumes a hypo- critical aloofness. He is respected no more and must respect himself less." Having now arrived at the hotel, Englewood in- vited Stuart to his rooms; and they were soon en- gaged in planning a visit of inspection to a mine, in which friends of Carl in the East were interested as prospective purchasers. A representative from Chi- cago was to meet with them on the morrow, and Englewood had been requested to make one of the party to visit the property. As the two men were 7 98 UNCLE CARL about to separate, a call-boy appeared with the an- nouncement that a young lady was in the reception- room and wished to speak with Mr. Englewood. Promising to meet Stuart and the representative the following afternoon, Englewood proceeded to the room designated, and was surprised as well as pleased to find awaiting him the young girl he had met at the "Theatre Comique." CHAPTER X As Mr. Englewood entered the reception-room of the hotel, Hattie Braton rose from the chair in which she had been seated, and stood before him half- defiantly, yet with such a woe-begone expression, such a tired, hungry, yearning picture of a friendless, hopeless, despairing struggler, that his heart went out to her in instant sympathy. He advanced quickly toward her and extended his hand. "I am glad to see you, Miss Braton," he said; "for I feel sure that you are going to allow me to help you." "Oh, Mr. Englewood," the girl replied, as she placed her hand in his, "you must think me a bold thing to come to you in this way ; but I am so lonely and have no friends whom I can trust, that I didn't know what else to do." "Say no more of that," said Englewood. "I know your surroundings, something of your trials. Ordi- narily it would be taking a grave risk to come to an entire stranger in this way, but I had hoped that I could impress you with the sincerity of my wish to help you, and perhaps inspire you with a desire to be helped. Your being here is some proof that I suc- ceeded." "'Succeeded'!" said she. "Yes, indeed! Do you know, if you had told me in words what you said with your pen sketches, I would have turned a deaf ear. But your pictures were so horribly real; and I had been left alone with them with no one to defend myself to, that somehow their awful truth possessed me. I have left that house. Indeed, since ioo UNCLE CARL I saw you first I have not been back there save to keep my appointment with you last night. But, oh, what can I do? I have no skilled profession, no way of earning a living. No friend to help, unless you who have seemed to see my need can help me." "That is what I wish to do, child, if I can," said he. "I am no churchman, but there are many things in the Good Book to which I cling. There is one, 'Place not a stumbling-block before the blind.' You have been very unfortunate, yet, believing in your own strength, you have been blind to the 'stumbling- blocks' which have been before you. It was my wish first to open your eyes to the pit into which they would cause you to fall; and my sketches were for that end. Now I believe that there is an unwrit- ten command necessary to complete the negative law I have quoted. 'Remove the stumbling-blocks from the path of those who have not the strength to sur- mount them.' You seem to be in this condition, and I am ready to clear your path for you if you are really willing to trust yourself to me." "I do trust you wholly," said the girl. "I believe that you are a good man ; but I have no claim upon you, no right to become a burden to you. Yet, I want you for a friend, and will be glad if you can show me how to live respectably." "You will be no great burden to me, I think," re- plied Englewood. "I purpose, to be sure, to ad- vance a little money for you, provided, of course, that my plan meets with your approval. But it is only as a loan. You will, I am sure, be able to re- turn it. I am not going to destroy your independence by giving you charity. The first thing is to get you away from these surroundings. I purpose sending you East to a friend of mine, a man of family, whose UNCLE CARL 101 wife will be more than glad to help you as she has many others. You will there be so conditioned as to fit yourself for your proper place in life. A posi- tion, I believe, that will enable you to do for others much more than I am doing for you." "Oh, how good you are!" cried the girl. "But it is too much to accept from you. The expense will be quite a good deal and it may be years before I could repay you." "And who told you," said Englewood, "that I am not well able to spare the necessary expense. I ex- pect you to repay the cash outlay with interest. I am seldom at fault in judging character, and I think that, once in your proper atmosphere, you will suc- ceed in conquering circumstances, will keep a high, pure independence, and will pay back every dollar that I may advance. And I will take a great satis- faction in feeling that I have helped to place you in a position to do good work and to assist other un- fortunates to surmount the obstacles to successful liv- ing. There are many things in life better worth striving for than money, though that is a very con- venient and necessary article to have. One of the chief of these is character building; and I hope to find in you a skillful architect in that kind of work." "I'll try to yes, and I'll succeed," said the girl. "I accept your kindness and thank you so much. You have saved me from Oh!" with a burst of emotion, "what a noble man you " "There, there!" interrupted Englewood, "none of that. Such an adjective is unpleasant to me. I am helping you, I know. . I accept your gratitude in moderation, and am sure that you will prove more than worthy of what I do for you. And now for de- tails. Can you be ready to start to-morrow?" 102 UNCLE CARL "Yes," said she. "I have nothing to keep me here." "Well, be ready then to take the 1.30 train. Per- haps it will be as well for you to come here about half past twelve and I'll go down with you and see you safely off. Now, you will have some baggage; and, by the way, excuse me if I hurt, have you any ready money?" "Yes, said Miss Braton, "enough to do all that I need to here." "Well," said he, "I'll send some one to your lodg- ing to help you out with your luggage; perhaps he had better go with you when you go back." Engle- wood, who was absently looking out of the window as he said this, suddenly stepped forward and tapped sharply on the pane, and as a boy who was passing looked up, motioned him to come in. A moment later our young leader of the street arabs entered the room. "Ah, Ralph," said Englewood, "I've a job for you. Can you spare the time, or have you something else on hand?" "Bet yer life, I kin spare the time," said Ralph. "Anything youse want done I kin allus find time fer. You're all right, you bet!" "Well," laughed Englewood, "that sounds good. This," turning to the girl, "is a staunch little friend of mine, Miss Braton, and will serve you well. Ralph, I want you to go with this young lady and help her with her luggage and run any errands she may want, and do anything else to help her that you can. And, to-morrow, see that she gets here with her trunk by half-past twelve." "You bet I will, sir," said Ralph, backing away as Englewood offered him a coin. "But I ain't a UNCLE CARL 103 ?>in' to take no money fer it. No, sir; not from you. ou're all right, you are." "Very well," said Englewood. "I'll get even with you some way. And now, good afternoon, Miss Braton. Keep up heart and we'll get safely out of the woods yet." Returning to his desk, Englewood settled down to his correspondence, working steadily for some hours, save as he was interrupted from time to time by callers. It was ten o'clock before he laid down his pen, and taking a cigar from his pocket lighted it, and seating himself by the open window lapsed into reverie. It was a clear, beautiful night above. Not a cloud obscured the intense blue-blackness of the heavens, studded with the infinite blazonry of the star- legions, whose brightness in that high, clear atmos- phere made them seem almost within reach. The peace and purity of the night above, however, was in sharp contrast to the thousand sounds of a night in what has been called "the greatest mining camp and wickedest city on earth." The hoarse voices of drunken revelers, the hard, high-pitched tones of wantons in search of prey, the orchestral music from the numerous play-houses, and the cracked discords from the open doors of the saloons and beer-halls; the clink of glasses, the rattle of dice, the sharp click of billiard balls and the low rumble of the bowling alleys, all mingled in a distracting chaos of sound, broken occasionally by the hard tones of an officer of the law, as he ordered some too boisterous or pugilistically inclined peace-wreckers to move on. The life of these great Western cities, builded upon a thirst for gold, is one of almost unbelievable extremes of good and evil. "Jekyll and Hyde" com- 104 UNCLE CARL binations of character, though often without the de- ceit of either personality, are common. Men, hun- dreds, thousands of them, with great courage, noble impulses, rare unselfishness and self-denial; men who will part with their last dollar to help the un- fortunate, will go hungry themselves that a dumb brute may feed; ofttimes with high education, good judgment in business and patient plodding persever- ance, will go out for a night of so-called pleasure, will throw themselves into the vortex of the lowest sins of drink and debauchery, peopling the gambling halls and seeking the vilest dens of infamy. As reckless of virtue apparently as they are, in other moments, reckless of personal privation and suffer- ing, when their hearts are attuned to the harmonies of the higher life. The very atmosphere seems to be permeated with speculation. Mining itself, upon which the prosperity is largely builded, is little other than an enthralling game of chance in which thou- sands lose all that they can earn, while the few suc- ceed in winning fortunes. A man poor to-day some- times realizes unbounded wealth on the morrow. Perhaps by some "rich strike" in a mining claim, perhaps by a fortunate deal in stocks, perhaps at the gaming-table. And while he often starts on a term of debauchery, throwing his wealth in all directions, he serves as a beacon to thousands less fortunate ( ?), a will-o'-the-wisp enticing them to renewed attempts to court fortune by throwing their all into the fascin- ating game. Perhaps this very spirit of speculation is respons- ible for many of the grosser sins of the West. Liv- ing in an atmosphere of chance, the indulgence in looseness of morals comes to be taken as a matter of course by the many, and actions that would in more UNCLE CARL 105 conservative communities relegate one to the lowest strata of society, are here not so counted against one but that he may be one of "our leading citizens." Not but that there are thousands of pure, refined, cultured ladies and gentlemen to be found here as elsewhere; but even they look with tolerance on ac- tions that in other environments would cause them to shudder with horror. So does custom blind us to a full appreciation of evil as well as of good. As Englewood 1 thought over the day's incidents and his plans for Miss Braton, his eyes sought the upper clearness, where, away yonder across the val- ley, the eternal snow-caps of a high mountain range were glistening in the beams of the rising moon. Gradually the discord of sounds about him faded from his dulling ear, and the harsh strains of music softened to waves of a weird harmony as his gaze wandered toward a particularly bright star in the firmament, her star, the star that always brought nearer to him the gentle purity of the dear one whose body lay under the shadow of the Alleghenies. As he looked through the fragrant smoke wreaths the star seemed to grow in size and radiance, and then the center opening outward disclosed a long vista with myriads of white-robed forms moving grace- fully forward to the strain of heaven-born har- monies. And then a form detached itself from the rest and fluttered softly toward him, all bathed in the glorious brightness. As the form drew nearer Carl recognized the being who was all in all to him, and he inhaled again the sad fragrance of the flow- ers that loving hands had placed on her casket. As she finally stood before him Englewood raised his arms toward her and a great yearning was voiced in the softly uttered, "Irene, my pearl!" io6 UNCLE CARL But she slowly moved her head in negation. "Not yet, Carlie, boy," she said. "Not yet may we enter the gate together. Poor Carl, you are doing too good a work to leave now. The Master whom you would not acknowledge has much for you to do yet. Yes," answering his unspoken thought, "you are doing right by the unfortunate little girl you are trying to help. It is a heavy burden you are about to carry, for you have been very careless with your money; but the end will be worth your struggle, for this 'brand plucked from the burning' will bring a joy and light to your life as well as to many others. So work on, work on, Carl; you are treading one of the many paths that lead to the 'great white throne.' " And then she touched his head in blessing. "Be comforted," she said, and faded from him as he slept. CHAPTER XI A sound of hurriedly advancing feet in the hall, followed by several sharp raps at the door, awakened Carl from his doze. "Kin I come in, Mr. Engle- wood?" an excited voice asked; and upon receiving assent, there entered wild-eyed, hatless, with dis- heveled hair, trembling with excitement and pant- ing as though he had run a race for life, our young friend, Ralph Deneen. "She's ben tooken, Mr. Englewood!" he almost shouted. "A feller he grabbed her and took her off to Squint-eyed Pete's place. An' she's all broke up, an' he clipped her one over the head, an' she " "Hold on! Hold on, Ralph!" said Englewood. "Cool down first and then tell me plainly what has happened." And seating the boy in a chair he busied himself with some papers until Ralph had regained his breath, and then learned his story. It appeared that as Miss Braton and Ralph were nearing the girl's lodging after leaving Englewood, they were accosted by a man who claimed to be her guardian. He took her roughly by the arm, and, as she tried to draw away from him, he demanded that she go with him. She protested against it, but the man forced her to walk along with him, and when Ralph followed he ordered him away, and aimed a vicious kick at him. Then the girl told him to go back and tell her "friend" what had happened, and began to cry, when the brute struck her with his hand and ordered her to "Shut up her blubbering!" Forcing her to go with him, he stopped at the next io8 UNCLE CARL corner and hailed a passing hack. Entering it they were driven off ; but Ralph, mindful of Englewood's injunction to care for her, and knowing that he would want to know of her whereabouts, had, unob- served by the abductor, managed to clamber up on the rear of the conveyance, and they were taken some miles out on an old trail, stopping at the way- side sporting-house of a disreputable rascal known as Squint-eyed Pete, because of a peculiar cast in one eye. Here the girl was compelled to enter, and Ralph heard the man order the proprietor to keep her "with the girls" until he called for her; adding that "he would be away for a day or two on a min- ing deal, and that he must on no account let her es- cape." Upon learning this Ralph managed to get away without being seen, and hastened to return to give Englewood his information. As the lad finished his story Englewood rose abruptly and began pacing with long strides up and down the room; a habit of his when his emotions were stirred. He was one of those who readily enter into the feelings of others, who are easily influenced emotionally by the joys and sorrows, the loves and hates, the mirths and griefs of their fellows; though he never allowed his emotions alone to influence a predetermined course of action. And now, with the brief story of Miss Braton's abduction told, he found himself feeling with the girl in her distress. Believ- ing in her purity and in her desire to remain pure, he could imagine himself in her place, torn from a hoped-for refuge and consigned to the care of the denizens of one of the lowest brothels in the West. And tears came close to the surface as he felt her woe. She must be rescued, of course; he had de- UNCLE CARL 109 cided to help her and she should be helped. The proprietor of the place was known to be a low, un- scrupulous scoundrel, but not one to prove false to a fellow-scoundrel, and he would not readily give up the girl who had been consigned to him. Neither could Carl use the offices of the police in the case. He had no- legal claim to the girl; besides, to insti- tute legal proceedings would mean delay, court en- tanglements, and the probable spiriting away of the one he would save before help could reach her. No ! She must be rescued and at once, and he must do it alone. Taking Ralph down to a restaurant he or- dered a good meal for the boy, and told him that when he had finished it to go home. In the morning, early, he was to return to the hotel and, if Engle- wood had not returned, he should notify the police of his whereabouts; telling them why he went there, and have them take such steps as might seem necessary. He then called up a cab by 'phone, and was soon on his way to the rescue; though without any plan or clear idea as to how the rescue should be accomplished. He was simply determined that it should be done. How he would determine later. A motley gathering of perhaps a score of men were assembled in the barroom of Squint-eyed Pete's place. The usual admixture of miners, gamblers, and loaf- ers had been augmented by the arrival of a half- dozen ranchmen, coming to town for a "lark," and they had stopped at "Squinty's," as they familiarly called the proprietor, as a preliminary to a more extended debauch in the city. These men were not all bad at heart. They were human, and though they enjoyed the rough, low license of unbridled physical passions, they would when their higher emotions no UNCLE CARL were touched and it is not always hard to reach the heart of even the lowest of humanity undergo great hardships and self-denial in the cause of the unfortunate. Careless, rollicking, they were sing- ing boisterously discordant the story of "Annie Rooney," then having its run of popularity. A tall, brown-bearded man, of herculean proportions and a clear, frank face though showing the hard lines of dissipation was leading them. He had just sung the refrain, "She's my sweetheart, I'm her beau," when the door opened and Englewood stepped into the room. The leader abruptly stopped, and after looking a moment at the intruder, turned to the others with the words, "Well, I'll be d d if here ain't a parson looking for a sweetheart too!" "Right you are, right you are!" yelled the others, and then a voice shouted, "But he'll have to dance for her." The suggestion met with instant ap- proval, and a ring was at once formed around Carl, who had until then stood silently by, flushing slightly at the low insinuation as to his purpose in coming there, but otherwise showing no sign either of fear or bravado. He now raised his hand slightly as if he wished to speak. "Men," he began; but a chorus of voices drowned him: "No you don't, no you don't! You dance first and talk afterward. Jack, start the ball rolling." "Parson," said Jack, so the leader was called, "you'd better get yer feet to shuffling, and pretty cussed quick too. Per if you don't something 's goin' to happen." "I wish to talk first, and will dance afterward if you can make me," responded Englewood calmly. UNCLE CARL in "Well," cried Jack after a moment's hesitation, "I guess we'll let you talk jest about fifteen seconds. Ready, boys !" and he pulled his revolver, as did the others. "You, over there," said Carl, pointing to the pro- prietor, "a young girl was brought here this evening and left with you. I came for her." "You d d parson! you don't git her, see!" an- swered Squinty. "Go ahead with the show, boys." "Time 's up, turn your shooting irons loose, boys!" yelled Jack, and the revolvers began to spit their leaden pellets. It was one of the little "pleasantries" of the cow- boys, when on one of their sprees, to intimidate a tenderfoot, or one new to Western ways, especially if he assumed a superiority in manner or character. A parson was a "plum" to them, and it was their delight to make him dance, by shooting, apparently at his feet, but really only near them; and in most cases a man would step lively about, even dance, for fear of the bullets. The men were careful, however, to not injure the victim. Indeed, cases have been known where a cowboy, indulging in this pastime and, being inaccurate in aim, having injured a foot, has been very roughly dealt with by his comrades. Englewood knew this, and though it required some courage to stand still with the bullets ploughing up the rough floor on all sides of him, he moved not a foot, but looked calmly at his would-be tormentors. "Well, by G d!" said Jack at length, "the sky- pilot's got nerve all right; he ain't no tenderfoot." "You are mistaken, sir," said Englewood. "First, I am not a minister, and second I am a tenderfoot. That is, I have been West only a short time. But I ii2 UNCLE CARL didn't come here to dance, but to save a girl from ruin. I shall not dance, and I shall save the girl," he added firmly. "Well, you'll set up the drinks anyhow," said one of the loafers. "No," said Jack, who began to feel a respect for Englewood. "I like a nervy man, by G d, and this feller's got a lot of it. If you can git the girl out of Squinty you can have her, but you don't have to set 'em up unless you want to." At this there was a murmur of approval from the crowd, whom their leader seemed easily to sway. "Men," said Englewood, "I am perfectly willing to buy the drinks, since you don't force it. You know," he smiled, "a Yankee doesn't like to be driven. Peter," turning to the bar, "fill up the glasses." Setting out the glasses and bottles, which were eagerly reached for as the men lined up at the bar, Squinty turned to Englewood, who placed the reck- oning on the board and called for a glass of water. "Hold on!" cried Jack. "That's going a little too far. We're willing to let you off easy like, but you got to drink liquor like the rest of us." The men immediately replaced the glasses which they were about to raise to their lips, and vociferously agreed that Englewood must drink "good, red li- quor." "No," said Carl, as he sternly looked down the line. He felt his anger rising, and it was one of his characteristics that as his emotions grew stronger his voice sank to low, quiet tones, yet so softly sibilant that they seemed to penetrate his hearers more surely than the loudest voice. "No, I like liquor in its place; but to-night I prefer water." UNCLE CARL 113 Instantly Jack pressed a revolver against his temple and placed the whiskey bottle before him. "Drink that," he growled, "or by G d you'll be in h 1 in another minute!" "Jack," said Englewood, and he looked unflinch- ingly into the other's eyes, as if an inspiration had suddenly come to him, "I shall drink water and you shall drink it also! Take your gun down and I'll prove it." "Good! Good!" yelled his audience. "Old Jack drink water ! Ha, ha ! He'll do that when old Squinty-eye joins the church. Might as well ask a d d coyote to eat ice-cream with a spoon. Old Jack take to water! Nixie !" "I'll tell you what, boys," said one, "if the par- son can get Jack to drink water he can have the girl. Can't he; Squinty?" "Naw, he can't," replied the proprietor. "No- body can git the girl 'cept Jenks what left her here!" "Can't, can't he," flared Jack, and his attention being turned in Squinty's direction his revolver turned there too. "Who says 'can't'?" "I says can't," replied the proprietor. "That girl was left in my charge, an' in my charge she stays till Jenks calls for her. That's what I says." "An' we says" several guns were leveled now "that if the parson makes Jack drink water he can have the girl. Now what do you say?" The crowd was beginning to get turbulent, and, as they say in the West, had the drop on Squinty. The latter finally capitulated, saying that if the par- son could do it, all right; and he could have the girl; "but no gun play goes, by G d!" 8 n 4 UNCLE CARL "I am unarmed," said Englewood, "and I agree to your condition." It was a very uncertain experiment that he was about to try. But a peculiar temperamental condi- tion, felt rather than seen, in the leader of these rough men, of whose past life our friend had heard some particulars, had caused Carl's mind to revert for an instant to some experiments of his younger days. For his own safety he would not make use of such an expedient. Indeed, he could easily get out of his present position without injury to himself; but to rescue the girl was his first object, and to do that he would employ any honorable means, even such as he would scorn to use in his own behalf. "Jack, take my hand," he said, as he reached it out and looked intently in the other's face. The big, strong fellow put his revolver up, and closing his massive hand over Carl's tried to crush it with his giant's strength; but the hand he held seemed like velvet-covered steel as it returned a firm, cool resistance to his powerful effort; at the same time his eyes became fixed as by a fascination on the eyes, now almost black with a magnetic intensity, that looked so steadily into his, as Carl's low, sibilant tones began. The men left their untasted glasses of liquor on the bar and gathered about the pair, some- what awed by the unexpected turn of events, won- dering and expectant of they knew not what. "Now, Jack," said Englewood, "I want to take you way back East with me, way back to the little town of Susquehanna, Jack, where you used to live. You were a young man then and you had a little sis- ter, a sister just about the age, now, of the girl I want to save here. And do you remember the last time you saw her, Jack?" The tears came to the UNCLE CARL 115 giant's eyes and he tried to draw his hand away; but Englewood held it firmly and his eyes seemed to al- most flame with intensity as he held the man's gaze riveted to his own. He continued : "You had a dear old mother, Jack, but you were young and full of life and you got into a bad way with the boys. Many were the tears she shed for you; many were the scrapes she paid money to get you out of; and she was not rich, Jack, but she de- nied herself much for you, many a line of care was added to the good old face for your sake. And one night you came home late, Jack. You had been out with the boys again and you had drank a little too much. You were a little ashamed as you neared the home-nest where a light was still burning; and you pushed the door open ever so softly, and what you saw there made you resolve to go away from there and stay until you could come back a man, Jack; a good man, who would be all that the dear mother prayed for you to be. They were both there, Jack, the mother and the little sister. The child had been restless and mother had slipped on her dressing-gown and sat in her rocking-chair with your little sister in her arms and was crooning a soft lullaby, the poor tired face full of loving affection as she softly sang, 'Sleep, my babe, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed.' And the little sister's eyelids be- gan to droop, Jack, just as yours are beginning to droop." Carl's left hand had reached up and was slowly, softly stroking Jack's arm as he talked. "The blue eyes were beginning to vanish in slumberland. 'Sleep, my babe,' came softly, distantly to her ears, just as they do to yours, Jack. She is drifting off to slumberland, and so are you. Sleepy sleepy sleeping Jack fast asleep." As he was softly n6 UNCLE CARL talking Carl's hand approached slowly the strong man's face and lightly touched his brow, and then his eyelids, and then releasing his hand he made a few rapid passes before Jack's face and person, and then stepping suddenly back while the giant stood like a statue, in a profound hypnotic sleep, he said, "Jack you are sound asleep, yet you hear every word that I say. I shall awaken you presently, and when I do you will ask Squinty for a glass of water, and you will drink it, and you will be a good friend to the girl I am after, and to me. And then you will go back to the ranch and think of the mother and the little sister; and you will go back to them as soon as you can. And, Jack, I think that you will not go on any more sprees with the boys. And now I am going to awaken you, Jack; remember what I have said," and suddenly snapping his fingers in the man's face he uttered sharply "Awake!" The giant's eyes opened suddenly and he looked dazedly about at the wondering faces of his compan- ions, who, ignorant of the marvels of hypnosis, were amazed at the scene they had witnessed. Shaking himself like a great dog, Jack then advanced some- what unsteadily to the bar. "Here, Squinty," he said, "give me a glass of of water, by G d!" The bartender shoved the whiskey bottle toward him, but Jack moved it aside. Not daring to refuse further, Squinty filled the glass with water, which Jack raised to his lips, hesitated a moment, and then drank at a gulp. A chorus of voices greeted the act; none under- standing how it had been brought about, but all mar- veling that big, reckless, convivial Jack could be con- trolled so completely. UNCLE CARL 117 "The parson wins," said a voice; "bring out the girl, Squinty." The bartender demurred, but big Jack again whipped out his gun with the remark, "We keep our promises, by G d ! Now you keep yours." As the girl was finally brought out and given into Engle- wood's charge, the giant gripped his hand. "I reckon you know how to take care of yourself," he said; "but if you ever need a friend, call on old Jack, and he'll be with you every time, by G d! Boys," turning to the others, "I'm going back to the ranch; you go on to town if you want to, but, somehow I don't feel like it," and in spite of their protestations he mounted his horse and rode away in the darkness, while Englewood returned to the city with his grate- ful charge. The next day saw Miss Braton safely on her way to Chicago, while Carl, returning to his hotel, found with his mail that had been delivered during his ab- sence, two letters bearing important information. CHAPTER XII It is not our purpose to hold Carl Englewood up to the world as a model of the perfect man. He was far from being that. But he was a good man, a man of strong character, high ideals, and a steady, patient, earnest cultivator of what seemed to him Truth. He was not a highly educated man in any one line; not a specialist in any branch of learning; but he had a goodly fund of general knowledge, was a keen observer of men, a student of humanity, both as to individuals and masses. Of his early religious struggles we have already spoken. In his maturer years his conclusions had in no way changed, but he had added to them more definite views and purposes in regard to his life- work, which, though the world would perhaps not call them wise, yet to him spelled "success" in the highest sense. He had no scorn for money, but deemed money a very useful, an absolutely necessary thing. But he had little esteem for the man who made the pursuit of wealth the chief aim of life. To him money was a medium by means of which suffering could be alle- viated, hunger appeased, pleasure gratified, and greater fields of usefulness opened to cultivation, new heights of power for good attained, with ac- celerated speed. But the aggrandizement of wealth only for the sake of power or pomp was to Engle- wood one of the lowest aims. His motto was "Sin- cerity." Sincerity with self was to him the first and highest duty of each man. To know one's own na- ture, tendency, power, intellectual strength; in a UNCLE CARL 119 word, to understand self so far as possible, seemed to him a necessary preliminary to the accomplishment of valuable results ; and there must be no self-decep- tion in the study of one's own inner personality. Ab- solute sincerity must prevail, and all weaknesses and evil tendencies, as well as the strength and beauty of one's character should be clearly realized. Second only to the study of self should be the study of hu- manity as exemplified in the world's life. But this study should be prosecuted not merely for the satis- faction of knowing, not for the gratification of idle curiosity, but for the purpose of carrying out a well- defined and high purpose in life. An altruistic hedon- ism was the ruling motive in his life. Though the personal happiness which had once seemed his own was denied him in the death of Irene, he yet believed that the duty of each individual was to increase so far as possible the sum total of human happiness; and for that end he labored. Learning early to look into happiness through other eyes than his own, he counted the day lost which did not see some burden lightened, some sorrow lessened or greater strength given to bear it, some face brightened by a smile through his efforts; and yet he did not believe in much verbal preaching; the sermon of one pure sin- cere life was to his mind a stronger influence for good than the spoken words of a thousand orators. He did not seek happiness for himself, but, seeking it for others, a quiet peace entered his own heart. "Vir- tue its own reward" was a verity with him, for his religion held no promise of a personal reward in the hereafter for well-doing here, nor did fear of pun- ishment beyond the "narrow house" deter him from doing evil; he simply chose his course because it seemed to him that he was individually responsible 120 UNCLE CARL for the use he made of his life. Responsible not to God as a distinct entity, but to Mother Nature, by whose fiat he had become an ego in the midst of millions of fellows. The land "beyond the sunrise" was an unknowable mystery. He "hoped" to meet his bride at the gate of immortality, but it was only a hope. A hope born of his emotions rather than his reason. In reality immortality meant for him an eternal influence. The persistency of force, the indestructibility of matter, were realities. And he believed that the influence of a thing that has been cannot die; but that though it might change form until its own original individuality was obliterated, its effects were nevertheless eternal. Thus, his own influence was to be eternal, and it pleased him to try to so live that that influence should be to the bet- terment of mankind; that his having lived should make the world's garden brighter with the flowers of truth, and love, and gladness; that they who should come after him should have more of strength and purity; should approximate more closely the highest ideals than they would have done had he not lived. And, when finally the true spirit of Universal Brotherhood should become a verity, it pleased him to think that the influence of his personality should be alive in the heart of humanity. He was not a broody man. His studies and pur- poses made him often seem unapproachable, and at times lent a manner of austerity to him. But his heart was alive in spite of this apparent austerity during his hours of concentration. He was a great lover of fun, and could be just as nonsensical as any one in his lighter moods. He loved especially the children, the young travelers just starting on the journey of life. And it was his frequent pleasure to UNCLE CARL 121 join with them in their games, being jovial and free, as young as any of them. Wherever he lived it was not long before he would be hailed by the youngsters as "Uncle Carl," and he was always a welcome ad- dition to their little circles. Englewood was very far from being a perfect man. His weaknesses were very real. He had a temper that was most violent, though he rarely lost control of it. He used often to say, "I have little respect for the man who habitually yields to his temper, yet I wouldn't give the snap of my finger for the man who hasn't a good strong one on occa- sion." But when Carl's temper did get the better of him he was a very demon. Apparently calm out- wardly, his inner rage would be at a white heat. And though he tried at all times to eliminate any feeling of revenge, yet in such a frame of mind, strict, mer- ciless, unyielding justice to an individual would be carried out to the letter; and woe betide the man who would dare stand in his way. Yet at this time it had been some years since this strong weakness had mastered him, and it was his constant hope that it might never again rule him. Englewood believed in justice, strict and sure. That was a law of nature and should be man's law. Yet, mind is finite. Who can tell what justice is in a given case? Who can tell the inherited quality of mind which impels one to a given action? Who knows what influence has been brought to bear to cause one to commit a crime ? With a thousand standards of right, who may say, "My standard is the only right one and by it you shall be judged"? Therefore, because no finite mind can know what is absolute justice, Englewood held that the quality of mercy should always be a factor in final judgments. 122 UNCLE CARL His attitude toward women was that of the high- est chivalry. They were the best of earth. If all else were swept away woman's personality would make life worth while not in a physical sense, but in a high spiritual, an idealized conception of her being. His respect for women amounted to rever- ence. Not that he did not realize much of their frailties; he knew them to be weak in many ways and illogical in reason and action as a rule; yet he thought them stronger in moral ethics, more cour- ageous and self-denying and patient in the harsher duties of life than men. Though he often met men who sneered at their virtue and held that few, if any, were unsmirched by the lower passions; though, es- pecially when pursuing his work in the West, he came in contact with many women of unclean morals, he yet believed that most women were pure. "I have no way of knowing," he said, "whether my belief is in accordance with fact or not, as impurity is by its very nature secret. I can learn the real truth only by seeking impurity for its own sake, becoming my- self as low as that which I seek. The testimony of any impure man on such a question is to me valueless, because my experience teaches me that the man who habitually seeks the ruination of women, for the gratification of his own low passions, is lacking in personal honor, and his word is apt to be false, even as his ideals of life are warped by constantly seeking the indulgence of his own innate vileness. So I prefer to remain a believer in the purity of women." But this very belief in woman's purity made him an easy mark for the wiles of those of the sex who chose to use him for their own purposes. Without fully understanding her nature no man does that he would have confidence in her words, and was often UNCLE CARL 123 placed in embarrassing positions and mulcted of many a hard-earned dollar by being so easily led by his faith in her. Yet repeated evidences of moral decrepitude in some in no wise lessened his belief in and respect for the sex as a whole. An idealist from his early youth, he had met with many disappointments as he had become more and more conversant with the ways of the world at large. Asked in his younger days if he ever expected to find his ideal, he had unhesitatingly responded with an emphatic affirmative. He believed that there were in the world persons embodying all of the high attri- butes of intellectual and moral worth, and void of the faults and inconsistencies of life in general. He had been forced to modify his belief in personal per- fection, but if asked the same question now he would say, "I have found it. No one is perfect, but in hu- manity as a whole the ideal may be found. There are all of the virtues of truth, love, strength. No flower can be found that is absolutely perfect. Some flaw can be found in it, but why because of some de- fect an imperfectly shaped petal, a sting from some insect claim that perfection as a flower is not in the blossom. Why be always looking for the flaw when seeking the good. In enjoying the rose is it not better to forget the thorn? Or, if we remember the thorn, is it not well also to remember that, al- though it gives us personally no pleasure, it was yet placed there for a good purpose? Standing beside a garden of flowers, the whole forms a beautiful picture. The thorns are necessary for protection of the blossoms. The canker-worm simply propa- gates another form of life, no less beautiful in its way than the rose. And we may enjoy the garden without coming in contact with that which is inimical i2 4 UNCLE CARL to our pleasure; only, those having the care of the garden should use due diligence that the good rather than the evil shall predominate. It is impossible to have a garden without some weed germs, some injurious insects. These should be eliminated so far as possible, but the flowers should not be condemned as a whole because of the impossibility of making the garden faultless. And so it is with humanity. We can at best only stand on the outskirts of the great garden, penetrating a little here and there perhaps, but understanding but little of the great forces at work. Evils there are great ugly-appearing weeds, snakes, worms, nettles and poisonous insects. But there are, too, all of the flowers of virtue that we can enjoy if we wish. We need not, unless we will, come in contact with the evils. But if we do we can find a beauty in the very sins of humanity, for they have their influence, if rightly viewed toward completing the ideal. As Bulwer has said, 'It is in the presence of evil that man finds his duties and his soul its progress.' ' For children, particularly, did he hold a keen in- terest. His own childhood being comparatively bar- ren of joy, he delighted in opening the way for the youngsters who would otherwise have few pleasures or opportunities for the boyhood and girlhood frolics that are such a gratification to the little folk. He considered that one of the saddest things in life is to have had no happy childhood. And he gave much of time and money toward adding brightness to child life. And where, here and there, he found an es- pecially promising character, but with circumstances such as to stunt its growth, he endeavored to so ar- range as that the field of learning and advancement should be open, and the growing plant surrounded UNCLE CARL 125 by the food best fitted for it. Denied opportunities for advanced knowledge himself, he now knew the advantages of and missed the higher training, and it was part of his work in life to see that the same lack should not be felt by others where he could prevent it. His great aim was to facilitate the upbuilding of character. And as a fundamental principle he sought first sterling honesty in all matters. He cared not what a person's religious belief was, if it was honestly felt. Where a person was indifferent to the higher beauties of thought, he sought to place before him a suggestion of the satisfaction derived from its intelligent indulgence, gave glimpses of the wondrous mysteries with which all nature teems, sought to in- terest in the deeper researches, and thus often stimu- lated desires that resulted in a splendid growth. He did not believe in doing everything, nor indeed very much for an individual. But rather, sought to enable an individual to do for self that which he would not have been able to accomplish without him. A seed falling on barren ground could not grow; unless either transferred to other ground, or by having its natural food brought to it. In either case the seed would then germinate, but would produce a plant ac- cording to its preordained nature. The seed of a gooseberry would never produce the oak tree, but under proper conditions it would make a good goose- berry bush; and every well-developed plant has its own peculiar uses. Surrounded by a fertile soil, the growing plant would select its own food, and grow its own growth. It should perhaps be shielded from harm during its younger age, but should not be al- ways supported, else it would never reach its full strength. Even, the oak tree, if shielded from storms and braced against the rude winds through life, 126 UNCLE CARL would be unable to stand alone against the warring elements. And so with young humanity he sought to surround them with proper food, to guard them during their tender age against too strong buffeting, but at the same time stimulated them to do for them- selves, to reason out and decide upon their own jour- ney through life. He sought to imbue them with sturdy truth and the strength of conviction, abhorring hypocrisy in all forms. Whether they reached the same conclusion that he did, or the opposite, mat- tered not. He only aimed that, whether they were to be flowers or shrubs, or trees, they should be strong, healthy, sturdy specimens of their kind. He did not seek to change human nature, he thought that to be impossible. He only sought to give all whom he influenced the impulse to develop their highest attributes, and tried to help them to uproot all nox- ious weeds the tendency to evil which would take from the nourishment that would otherwise go far toward helping the higher growths. Such was Carl Englewood at this time. Just an earnest, sympathetic, helpful man, of ordinary abil- ity, working in life's garden with the chief aim that of making the world better because of his having lived in it. CHAPTER XIII "Palm Grove, Florida, May 13, 189 "To Carl Englewood, "Rock Gulch, Montana. "Mv DEAR FRIEND: It is ill news that I have for you. Your ward, Hattie, after an illness of but a few hours, passed from us this morning. While having never known her, I know that you will much regret this sudden severance, because of your friend- ship for the father and his wishes for her future; yet, somehow, it seems hard to say it at this time, I cannot but think it a relief for the future. In spite of the high characters of her parents as you have represented them to me, it has seemed to me that the child has inherited but few of the graces that one might expect. While she was always amen- able to such discipline as seemed to me wise, she yet betrayed a coarseness of fiber, a tendency toward the evils of the underworld, that were so pronounced and so hard to combat that I have felt that, when she reached the age when she should be mistress of her own life, little of good could come of it. The poor child is dead, and I would not defame her in the least to one who was personally bound to her. But to you, whose life, had she lived, would have been a constant worry over her waywardness, I can- not help but express my feeling of relief that the poor little girl has left us ere her natural tendencies had gotten beyond control. "The cause of her death is somewhat of a mystery. She came in late last evening, after an absence of 128 UNCLE CARL some hours, with a high fever. During the after- noon she had asked to go out to the beach with two or three little girls of good family, and I had con- sented with the stipulation that she return by sun- down. I afterward learned that instead of going with them she was in the company of boys and girls of a low order. I immediately sent out after her and went myself in search of her. We could not find her, however, and I returned to the house to make arrangements for a thorough search, when she put in her appearance. In response to my query as to where she had been she vaguely answered that she and a man she had met had been 'having a good time down the road.' (I have -reported to the offi- cers and they are trying to trace the man.) Hattie went at once to bed, and I sent for a doctor, as her fever was so high that I was worried over it. Before he arrived, however, she became delirious and re- mained so until her death this morning. In her de- lirium she revealed a character such as I shudder to recall. Do you know, my dear friend, I sometimes think that there must have been some mistake. That this was not the true Hattie Cramer. I do not think that I am uncharitable, you know that I am not. Yet, it seems to me that it is impossible that such people as you knew the parents to be could have pro- duced an offspring so utterly opposed in nature to their characters. I cannot help a feeling of relief that you are spared the heartaches that her future life would have caused you. "I will have her buried here after the postmortem. The officials think it wise to make a thorough exami- nation, as the doctor believes there are good reasons for suspicion that there has been foul play. I hope that their suspicions may prove groundless, and that UNCLE CARL 129 the Good Father simply took her to himself to save her from evil. "I have notified the Probate Judge at Kaloma of Hattie's death, and trust that no new complications of an unpleasant nature may arise in that quarter for you. "May the God of all good bless and keep you, "With the love of your old Sabbath-school teacher, "MRS. HAZELTON. "P. S. Forgive me, Carl, for writing such a harsh letter. It seems unkind to speak so of the dead, but the relief was so great. MRS. H." Englewood's sorrow at reading the above was more on account of the failure of the plans of his old friend, Mr. Cramer, than for any other reason. Previous letters from Mrs. Hazelton had prepared him for this outspoken conception of Hattie's char- acter. Yet it came somewhat as a shock to him. Mrs. Hazelton was kindness itself to all with whom she came in contact, and had, he knew, done all that could be done for Hattie's health, both moral and physical. She was a keen judge of character, how- ever, and believed that, even with her Master's help, one could not expect to "gather grapes of thorns nor figs of thistles." To her it seemed a pity to waste one's energies in endeavoring to develop characters in which evil tendencies predominated, with scarcely a single evidence of higher leanings, when there were so many in the world in whom the higher germs needed but the helping hand to develop grand lives. Carl, however, liked the "tough propositions," as he 9 130 UNCLE CARL termed them. He took a strong interest in smother- ing the evil weeds with the luxuriant growth of just one small germ of Truth. Many times he failed, yet he never considered the devoted energy lost. It gave him strength for renewed effort, if it accom- plished nothing more. And though he had looked forward with some anxiety to his ward's future, he was prepared to enter the contest with the vigor of a strong mind anxious to rear a beautiful character as a monument to his departed friend. However, that was all over now; and he hastily wrote a few lines to Mrs. Hazelton in acknowledg- ment of her letter, and thanking her for her care of the charge he had given her. The other letter was from Mr. Courtright, speak- ing of the news of Hattie's death, and that Stanhope and Estes were, on the strength of that information, about to make efforts to close the estate. Courtright had not seen the men, but from what he had learned it was, he thought, imperative that Englewood return without delay. "I believe that there is some under- handed work going on," he wrote, "and as I have no legal authority in the matter you had better see to it personally if possible. Wire me on receipt of this whether you can be here soon, and when." Ringing for a messenger, Carl sent the following telegram. "GEORGE COURTRIGHT, Chicago, 111. "Can finish work here and be there in fortnight. Stop proceedings till then if possible. "ENGLEWOOD." Soon after he was called to the hotel lobby, meet- UNCLE CARL 131 ing there Mr. Stuart, and Mr. Erickson, an expert chemist from Chicago, who with Englewood were to examine a mine in the vicinity; their report thereon to be a potent influence in the decision of an Eastern syndicate in regard to the purchase of the property. CHAPTER XIV In the early seventies a mine named the "Golden Pheasant" was located a short distance from the present city of Rock Gulch. A company was formed and, after considerable expenditure of labor and capital, it was developed into a richly paying prop- erty. Successive "levels" of paying ore were worked, the main shaft eventually reaching a depth of some fourteen hundred feet. There is a limit to the paying ore in every mining operation, however, and eventually all of the ore that could be worked at a profit with the facilities of that day was handled and the mine abandoned. Some years later the "Plover" mine, a smaller claim adjoining the "Pheasant," was worked with varying success; a shaft being sunk some three hundred feet, and a pay streak at that level followed until it broke through the wall of rock into an abandoned tunnel of the old mine. The owners' capital being at a low ebb, the work on this mine was temporarily suspended, though the shaft and timbers were kept in safe con- dition pending the formation of a new company which, with modern appliances, might advanta- geously handle the low grade ore, which was plentiful. Certain speculators investigating this newer claim had made their way through the opening into the Golden Pheasant workings, and had conceived the idea of buying up this older property, as it was un- derstood that the owners would be glad to sell it for a very small figure. Having for a nominal sum secured a lease, with UNCLE CARL 133 the option of buying at a stated price, these men re- paired the old shaft house, put in a new hoist, and after some weeks of labor announced the discovery of a new and rich lode on the four-hundred- foot level. They then, with the help of some rich ore samples, fake assay reports, and other persuasive arguments, succeeded in interesting certain Eastern capitalists in the property. These men of wealth were wary, however, and did not purpose putting any money into the venture without a careful investi- gation by men of their own, whom they could trust. George Courtright was one of those interested, and it was by his request that Englewood was to accompany the Eastern chemist, Mr. Erickson, and others on their tour of investigation. While the leaseholders were cold men of business, there was no suspicion but that they were men of honor. Mr. Stuart especially, although Englewood would never have selected him for a friend, had a plausible and decisive manner that begat confidence in his business integrity. Yet, it was the policy of the would-be-investors, as it should be of every man who seeks interest in any- thing so uncertain as mining properties, to be as cer- tain as possible, by investigations by men of known integrity and ability, of the value of the property in which they were to invest their capital. As they climbed up the old mountain trail, Stuart entertained them with an instructive talk on mines, ores, methods of refining, etc., showing an accurate and extensive knowledge of general mining business. The new ore found was not of fabulous richness, he told them, but ran from $15 to $.20 per ton of free milling quality. The old workings showed enormous amounts of ore of the low grade of $2 to $4. In- deed, he claimed that even the old dumps could be re^ 134 UNCLE CARL worked with profit by the modern cyanide process, though by the old methods of the seventies it would cost more than the gold was worth to extract it. Their plan was, with this rich find as an inducement, to interest sufficient capital to construct a large and complete modern plant; feeling sure that there would be a splendid profit for all. The fullest, most painstaking investigation he courted, prefer- ring that the men who furnished the capital should know exactly the existing conditions. At the shaft-house, after spending some time examining the upper works, they were all lowered in the cage to the four-hundred level, where they found a miner with a car of ore waiting to be drawn to the surface. Stuart explained that there were but two men at work at present, and they were doing pros- pecting rather than regular mining, as he had found indications that he believed would lead them to still other rich bodies of gold-bearing quartz. The men passed along the tunnel, Mr. Stuart as it seemed to Englewood being rather unnecessarily emphatic in a statement, twice repeated, that they were now alone on that level, the man they passed having ascended and the other miner being at work on the level above them. The tunnel they were traversing had been exca- vated by the old company for a distance of about a quarter of a mile, and the walls all the way showed, to the experienced eye, a good quality or rock, indic- ative of more or less gold, but not of sufficient rich- ness to warrant blasting. The new owners had con- tinued the old tunnel about six rods, though in a new direction, starting from the old workings at an angle of some twenty degrees. It was here that the special examination was to be made; and under the direc- UNCLE CARL 135 tion of Mr. Erickson several canvas bags which he had brought with him were filled with the ore-bear- ing rock, which the expert selected at random from various parts of the new excavation. Each bag, containing some fifty pounds of rock, was carefully tied and sealed and placed on the floor at the angle of the tunnel. Having reached at length the end of the new excavation, Stuart started on a detailed ex- planation of the plans of the owner, the probabilities of the new-found lead being a continuation of the exceedingly rich lode then being worked in the "Cres- cent," a mine located about a half mile distant, and entered generally into a discussion such as "pro- moters" love to muddle the heads of tenderfeet with. This kind of talk was somewhat tiresome to Engle- wood, who was not particularly interested in mining deals; and he, after nervously pacing up and down the narrow passage for a time, started slowly to walk back toward the shaft. As he passed the angle where the new and the old tunnel met he was startled by the sound of hastily retreating footsteps, and look- ing ahead saw the dancing light of a lantern. Sus- pecting foul play of some kind, he ran rapidly down the tunnel and laid his hand on the shoulder of a man just as he was about to enter the cage, which to Englewood's surprise was still at the opening with its load of ore. With an oath the man flung off the detaining hand, something falling with a faint metallic sound on the rocky floor as he did so, and springing like a cat onto the emergency ladder at the side of the shaft rapidly clambered out of sight above. Somewhat mystified, Englewood was about to return to his companions when his foot struck something on the ground which again gave forth a metallic clink. Lowering his lantern he searched about and finally 136 UNCLE CARL found a small hypodermic syringe. This, to an old miner, would have been a very damning thing to find under such circumstances, but to Carl it meant noth- ing more than that the man he had tried to intercept was probably a morphine fiend; and he placed the little instrument in his pocket. As his friends were not yet in sight, he concluded that he might as well ascend to the surface and await them there ; he there- fore seated himself more or less comfortably on the top of the car of ore and gave the signal to the engi- neer above to lift the cage. Meanwhile, the man who was so nearly caught had climbed up the ladder as far as the three-hun- dred level, muttering curses as he did so; and stand- ing at the opening there, hurled smothered anathe- mas at the man below. "That cursed Englewood again ! He's crossed my path too often ; by G d ! I'll do him up yit," and passionately grasping a bar of iron that stood against the side of the tunnel, he swung it around, and striking the rocky floor with it, exclaimed, "I wisht I had his cussed head down thar, the d d meddler!" Just then the heavy cable by which the cage is lowered and raised began to move. A startled oath and his eyes glittered with a fiendish hate as he ex- pressed the hope that the "d d" whelp was comin' up alone !" As the rising cage moved rapidly across the opening Carl caught a fleeting glimpse of the malignant face as, recognizing the occupant, the creature quickly thrust the iron bar under the ore-car with its end projecting about a foot outside the cage. Carried rapidly upward thus projecting, it caught under the roof of the tunnel, tearing the bottom out of the cage, and the next instant a dark mass passed the opening in its fall of eleven hundred feet to the UNCLE CARL 137 bottom of the shaft. With a snarl of triumph the fiend was about to turn away, when a hand was laid heavily on his arm and his fellow-workman said, "Jenkins, what in h 1 did ye do that for?" With a bound the man hurled the witness of his horrible deed to the earth and ran with his utmost speed along the tunnel. So quickly had it all happened that the man did not at once realize the enormity of the crime he had committed. Though a rascal through and through, he was yet of too cowardly a nature to have planned and executed such a dastardly thing in cold blood. But hatred, anger, and opportunity coin- cided so exactly that, without other thought than the instinctive animal propensity to destroy that which opposed his pleasure, he had done that for which the law would condemn him to death should he be caught. He realized this now, as he made his way rapidly on, glancing back fearfully as he ran to see if he was followed. He soon reached the end of the tunnel, and forcing his way through the narrow open- ing which had been made by the workers of the Plover mine, he made his way to the shaft of that mine and, climbing up the ladder, plunged down the mountain. Keeping away from the city from fear that the authorities would already be on the watch for him, he struck out across the valley, and about dusk entered a small way-station of the U. P. R. R. His plans were by this time formulated. He knew that it was courting death to remain in that vicinity, and the sooner he placed the State line behind him the better. He had money with him, and he could think of no better course than to return to the East, where a certain "Stanhope" always had some work afoot that he could assist in. He had some good news for this fellow-in-crime, too, and on the spur of 138 UNCLE CARL the moment he entered the station and ordered the following telegram sent: "JOHN STANHOPE, "Kaloma, Michigan. "Englewood dead. Fell down shaft. Coming East next train. J " He then sat down on a bench in the waiting-room of the station, and, biting off a huge piece of tobacco, proceeded to plentifully deluge the floor with his foul expectorations, while he waited for the train which was to carry him to the East, and compara- tive safety. Let us now leave this horrid criminal and return to the Golden Pheasant shaft. When Englewood caught the fleeting glimpse of Jenkins he was startled at the fiendish expression of vindictive hatred as the heavy iron bar was thrust beneath the car of ore on which he sat. Scarcely an instant was there for thought, however, ere the swiftly ascending cage was above the opening and, the bar coming in contact with the roof of the tunnel, the floor of the cage gave way and the heavy car of ore was precipitated below. Instinctively Carl had cast his arms upward, and his hands coming in con- tact with the upper frame work of the cage he clung to it and was left dangling above that eleven hundred feet of blackness. The engineer above, feeling the jar, for the master of an engine is as sensitive to every unusual strain on his machine as he would be were he doing its work himself, had instantly stopped the ascent. It seemed ages to Carl, though really but a few seconds, ere cautiously, slowly, the mechanism was again put in motion and the cage rose to the surface. As it came into view the engineer UNCLE CARL 139 uttered a gasp as he quickly took in Englewood's dangerous position. The cage was wrenched and splintered, and seemed as if it would fall to pieces of its own weight. To a cross-bar at the top hung Englewood, his teeth set so deeply in his lip that the blood was running down his chin and dripping over his shirtfront. Stopping the machinery the engineer ran quickly to the shaft, over the mouth of which he threw a heavy plank. Stepping on this, he put his arms about Carl's body and carried him, exhausted with the severe strain both mental and physical, to the floor of the shaft-house. In a few moments Englewood recovered suffi- ciently to explain what had happened. Before he had fairly begun, however, a tinkle of the bell told the engineer that the men below were waiting for the cage, that they might be hoisted to the surface. Taking a large sheet of paper, the engineer hastily wrote on it, "Cage broken down, come up the lad- der." Fastening this to the wreck he quickly low- ered it to the four-hundred level, and a few minutes later the men appeared after a toilsome and danger- ous climb. Their horror and anger at the dastardly crime attempted was beyond expression. Steps were immediately taken to capture Jenkins, but he suc- ceeded in escaping for the time, and as no real harm had been done beyond the severe nervous shock, from which Carl rapidly recovered, they, at his request, forbore extended search. Arrangements were then made for bringing up the bags of samples and, loading them on a wagon, the party returned to the city. On their way thither, Carl, who was riding on the wagon with Mr. Erick- son, chanced to put his hand in his pocket, and feel- ing there the instrument that he had found in the i 4 o UNCLE CARL tunnel, he produced it, and told of the way it had come into his possession. "The poor fellow was probably crazed," he said; "a morphine fiend, with- out doubt." The chemist, taking the instrument in his hand, uttered an exclamation. "Did you say that fellow was running away from you when you first saw him ?" he asked. "Yes," said Carl, "he must have been hiding behind the bags in the tunnel when I turned the angle." "Listen," said the expert, as he glanced behind him at Stuart, who was walking with the engineer some distance in the rear; "don't say a word about this to any one. This syringe was not used for mor- phine. Morphine in solution is a clear, colorless liquid. This," and he turned the instrument so that it showed a drop or two of a brownish-yellow liquor, "is something entirely different. I have for some time had my suspicions that all is not right here. I want you to come to my room with me and I think that I can show you something interesting." And putting the syringe in his pocket he drew out a cigar which he offered Englewood, and lighting one him- self, conversation was continued on indifferent topics as Stuart and his companion drew near. As they entered the city Stuart inquired of the chemist when they might expect to hear a report on the ore samples. "I presume," he said, "that you will take them East with you and make your report from there." "Well," was the reply, "that is what I had in- tended; but as I have a little time to spare I may make the analysis here. Come around to-morrow morning and I'll let you know." "All right," said Stuart. "I, of course, would like UNCLE CARL 141 to have the report as soon as possible, though I am sure that you will find all as I have represented. Suppose I call at about, say ten o'clock, would that be too early?" "To early for complete analysis, as you know," replied the chemist; "still I may be able to give you some knowledge. Several days will be required to make a complete test." "Well, I'll call around at ten, anyhow," said Stuart, and as they had now arrived at the hotel he left them, while the Eastern man had the bags of ore carried to his room. The last twenty-four hours had been rather strenuous ones for Englewood, and he expressed the wish to have a good clean up and a rest for an hour or so before doing anything more. Mr. Erickson agreed. "After supper will do," he said. "I feel the need of a little scrubbing myself." Going to his room Carl indulged in a refreshing bath, and then lying down enjoyed a good nap until aroused by the supper call an hour later. After satisfying their appetites and enjoying a good cigar, Englewood and the chemist retired to the lat- ter's room, where, after locking the door to secure them from possible interruptions, Mr. Erickson said : "I want to make two or three little tests to-night, and if the results are as I anticipate I think that you will find them decidedly interesting. While every- thing may be all right, I feel suspicious of this mining deal. Stuart, especially, impresses me as being a man it were well to watch." "I don't know Stuart very well," replied Carl, "but though he is not such a man as I would care to culti- vate as a friend, he has an excellent reputation as a 1 42 UNCLE CARL business man ; and I would hardly think him capable of anything underhanded." "Perhaps so, perhaps so," said Erickson, "but we will reserve our judgment for a little while." Busying himself with sundry bottles and glasses he continued, "Now, that syringe that you thought con- tained morphine. If my suspicions are correct, it contains instead of morphine that which will put to sleep a gigantic swindle. If I am wrong no harm will be done, because my suspicions are at present known only to you and to myself. There is just one thing that that tube could contain which would be of interest to us in our experiment, and that is chloride of gold. I am going to assume that it is chloride of gold, and will proceed accordingly. You will observe that there are two or three drops of a brownish- yellow liquor in it," he said, holding the syringe toward the light. "I am now going to dilute those two or three drops with water," and he inserted the needle in a glass of water and partially filled the in- strument, and then shaking it sharply held it to the light, the color of the contents being now of a light amber tint. Erickson then produced a glass test tube, into which he poured a small quantity of liquor from each of two bottles, and turning to Englewood said : "I have in this tube a mixture of stannous and stannic chlorides. To the uninitiated I would say that these are names for certain chemical forms of common tin. Now I am going to put a drop or so of the contents of the syringe into this mixture. If my assumption is correct, and there is the least trace of chloride of gold in the syringe, a precipitate of a peculiar rich purple tint will be formed; and I will say further that no other known substance will pro- UNCLE CARL 143 duce this beautiful color, called the 'Purple of Cas- sius,' under these conditions." So saying he held the needle point above the test tube and allowed a drop of the liquid to fall. In- stantly the purple color was evident, and with a satis- fied smile Erickson turned to Carl. "You see I was right so far, eh!" "Yes," replied Englewood, who was intensely in- terested in the experiment, but could not yet under- stand its significance. "I am not much of a chemist myself; not anything of a chemist in fact, though I always did enjoy watching the experiments. But what has this to do with your suspicions?" "Well," said Erickson facetiously, but with the half-veiled contempt which knowledge often holds for ignorance, "you are not very wide-awake, are you. I believe you would be an easy mark for a gold-brick fraud. Now, see here. Over there in the corner are six bags of ore that I am supposed to assay. I propose making a little preliminary exami- nation to-night." So saying, he brought the bags nearer to the light. The canvas was new and, save where soiled from handling, was clean and white. Turning one of the bags over and over Erickson examined it carefully, but evidently found nothing to interest him. He ex- amined another and then a third. He was about to discard this also when he hesitated a moment, and then taking out his pocket-knife he scraped off a little dried earth that had clung to it. "Ah !" he said, with a little sigh of satisfaction, "that is what I was looking for," and he called Englewood's attention to a small brownish stain in the canvas. The other sacks were then examined, and on one of them also was found a similar discoloration. "Now," said the i 4 4 UNCLE CARL chemist, "I may still be wrong; in my profession we must prove every step before we say a thing is so and so. My assumption, however, is that some one with a hypodermic syringe has injected a solution of chloride of gold into these bags, and that a drop of the liquor clinging to the needle-point has stained the canvas as he withdrew it. To prove this I purpose applying the same test to the bags that I have to the contents of the syringe." With his knife Erickson then cut out of each bag a small round piece of can- vas containing the stains. "Some further explana- tion may be of interest to you before we proceed," he continued. "A peculiar characteristic of chloride of gold is, that upon exposure to the light for a time it changes to a metallic form, which is not soluble in water. Metallic gold if introduced into our mixture of stannous and stannic chlorides would fall at once to the bottom and produce no phenomenon of inter- est. Only gold in the form of chloride will produce the 'Purple of Cassius.' There may be, however, in these stains a trace of chloride of gold which has not yet been converted to the metallic form. If so, that chloride will be readily dissolved by water and we will proceed as before. You will understand from this that if any metallic gold from the ore contained in the bags should cling to this piece of canvas it could not produce the result I expect." Erickson then placed one of the canvas discs in a glass, and pouring a little water over it continued : "If this test should fail there is another, interest- ing as an experiment but not so conclusive as this would be. That is the crucible test. As I have said, chloride of gold changes to the metallic state upon exposure to the light. By reducing the bit of canvas to ashes in the crucible and introducing into this resi- UNCLE CARL 145 due hydrochloric and nitric acids in the proportions, roughly, of five parts to three, the metallic gold will again be changed to chloride which, soluble in water, we could proceed with as in our former test. This would not be conclusive evidence of fraud, however, because abrasion of the gold bearing rock against the canvas might leave a trace of gold, which would it also being changed to the chloride form be shown in the test tube. However, we will proceed with this test first." Producing a fresh test tube he again poured a mixture of stannous and stannic chlorides into it, and then introducing a drop of the liquid from the water-soaked canvas into it, the same beau- tiful purple color was produced. Turning to Engle- wood with contemptuous confidence, Erickson said, "I now pronounce Mr. Stuart and his associates in this mining deal to be a parcel of infernal scoundrels, who ought to be sent to the penitentiary !" "But, why?" asked Carl. "I know that I am densely ignorant on such matters, but though your experiments have been very interesting, I do not see why the introduction of such infinitesimal portions of gold into these ore sacks could be of special import- ance. There surely could not be enough of it to> alter the ultimate assay appreciably." "Couldn't there!" ejaculated Erickson. "Why, listen; these sacks contain on an average say fifty pounds of ore apiece. Suppose that into each bag there should be injected a half-dollar's worth of gold chloride and the syringe could easily contain more than that. By our process the value of every par- ticle of gold in the sack is estimated almost to a cent. Fifty cents increase of gold value to a sack means twenty dollars increase per ton; and twenty-dollar 10 146 UNCLE CARL ore is a very valuable proposition to would-be invest- ors. Do you see now?" "Whew! I should say I do," replied the aston- ished Englewood. "But really, I don't like to think that Stuart is a party to any such fraud. I have been of the opinion that he is in the main an honorable man. Don't you suppose that this man Jenkins " "Stuart not a party to the fraud!" indignantly in- terrupted the chemist. "Of course he is, and prob- ably the chief instigator of it. Jenkins was simply a tool of his. But wait. Stuart will be around here to-morrow morning, and if you will be on hand I think you will be able to decide for yourself whether he knew anything about it or not." "I'll surely be on hand," said Englewood, and soon after the two parted for the night. CHAPTER XV At about ten o'clock in the forenoon of the follow- ing day Carl and the chemist were smoking their cigars in the lobby of the hotel when Mr. Stuart entered. "Good morning, gentlemen," he cordially said, as he seated himself. "An ideal morning, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed," assented Englewood. "This is weather that makes one feel glad that he is alive." "Some people perhaps," grunted the chemist surlily, "but some others will feel mighty sorry that they have lived on this particular morning." "Got the blues, eh?" asked Stuart. "You do seem sorry about something. How did your assay progress, or haven't you done anything yet?" "Oh, well enough, well enough," said Erickson. "Come up to my quarters, you gentlemen, and I'll show you something interesting," and leading the way he ushered the'two men to his room. Inviting them to be seated, the chemist, while ap- parently busying himself with the glasses and bottles on his table, said: "By the way, Stuart, who was that fellow that tried to wreck the cage yesterday? An employee of yours?" "Well, yes," said Stuart. "I have had him do some work in the mine. But he's a worthless sort of a fellow. I gave him the job rather out of charity than anything else." "But what was he doing down there? I thought you said we were alone," queried Erickson. "Oh, I presume that he went back for a tool or 148 UNCLE CARL something he left behind," Stuart replied, "and prob- ably Mr. Englewood startled him when he appeared so suddenly. He is a good deal of a coward. I never would have thought he could have nerve enough to try the trick he did. Must have had a grudge against you, hadn't he, Mr. Englewood?" "Not that I know of," said Carl. "I have the im- pression that I have seen him somewhere before, but I can't place him exactly. I only had a fleeting glimpse of his face. Isn't he rather dissipated?" "Oh, like all of his class," replied Stuart, "he drinks more or less ; but he is sober enough most of the time. But why are you so interested in him ? It seems to me hardly worth while to bother with him. He has done no harm and is probably well out of the country before this." "But he might have done considerable harm," growled the chemist, "and he is a dangerous man to run around loose. All morphine fiends are liable to run amuck " "Ha, ha," laughed Stuart, "there you are way off, Mr. Erickson; he is no morphine fiend, I know that." "Then what use had he for this?" asked the chemist, and turning suddenly he held the hypoder- mic syringe before Stuart's eyes, which immediately contracted to two narrow slits as he started slightly; and a wary, on-the-defensive look took the place of the hitherto open, cordial expression. "That's not his," he said; "that's m a a that is I don't know what use he could have for it. What is it, anyhow?" "You know very well what it is, Stuart," said Erickson. "It's a hypodermic syringe dropped by Jenkins in the tunnel as he jerked away from Mr. UNCLE CARL 149 Englewood. It had in it, as I have proved by chem- ical tests, chloride of gold. You know what that means." "No," replied Stuart coolly, as he regained his confidence. "I don't know that I do know what it means. Jenkins may have been trying the 'gold cure' for his drinking habit for aught I know," he facetiously added. "Yes, you do know what it means !" returned Erickson emphatically. "It means that you em- ployed Jenkins to steal back and 'salt' my samples." "That's a very grave charge to make, Mr. Erick- son," indignantly replied Stuart. "A charge that is liable to make some trouble for the one who advances it. Some greater proof of fraud is necessary than that a poor fool has dropped a glass syringe." "We have that proof," replied Erickson, and he held up the two canvas disks that he had cut out of the ore sacks. "The stains on these two bits of rag also contain chloride of gold. It's no use, Stuart, the deal is off. We know you thoroughly. But there is a duty to be done besides calling off the deal, and I purpose seeing it done." "For God's sake, you don't mean to prosecute, do you?" said Stuart, who had lost his confident atti- tude. "You surely wouldn't try to disgrace a man of my standing on the evidence of a syringe and a couple of bits of rag?" "That depends somewhat upon yourself," said Erickson grimly. "You acknowledge, don't you, that I have caught you in a very dirty piece of work? A piece of work that, if carried into the courts on this and the other evidence of your employees," Stuart started at this, "would place you behind the bars." 150 UNCLE CARL "Gentlemen," said Stuart, after a moment's hesi- tation, "suppose I do admit this. Mind, I do not, but just suppose I do. What do you purpose do- ing?" "Just this," answered the chemist. "It is our pur- pose to prevent your playing this same fraud on any one else. You should be behind the bars, but we will agree to not press you on this affair if you will get out of the country within twenty-four hours, and stay out, and before going turn over your lease and option on the Pheasant to us." "Ha!" ejaculated Stuart suspiciously; "then you have discovered that the mine is just as I represented, have you, and you are trying to frighten me into turning the whole thing over to you, are you ! Not by a d d sight! I'm onto you now, and I'd like to just ask you, who is the scoundrel now?" "You, you infernal whelp!" excitedly exclaimed Erickson as he shook his fist in Stuart's face. Not a thing has been discovered but your own under- handed work. You are such a cursed fraud yourself that you find it impossible to believe in the honesty of any one else." "You are wrong there, Erickson," said Stuart. "There is just one man I have met in my life that I believe is honest. If Mr. Englewood here will back up your assertion I'll believe it. I don't know why it is," he continued, looking toward Carl, "but some- how I'd accept your simple word in preference to the oath of a score of any other men on 'the foot- stool.' ' ^ "So far as I know, Mr. Stuart," said Carl, "Mr. Erickson has told only the exact truth. There have been no discoveries other than this attempted fraud that I am aware of." UNCLE CARL 151 "And will you give me your word that the mat- ter will go no further, if I accept Erickson's pro- posal?" asked Stuart. "I think that you may rely upon his word," answered Carl. "So far as I am concerned you will have no trouble." "Then I yield," said Stuart in crestfallen tones. "I acknowledge that I tried to play the sharp game. But it was all in the way of business. Those rich fellows can afford to lose the money; they wouldn't feel good if they weren't bit once in a while, and I might as well have their cash as any one. But it's no use to try to carry this game any further. You'd queer it anyhow." "Well, let's get down to business," said Erickson impatiently. "Shall we go over to the office with you for those papers?" "Not necessary, not necessary," said Stuart. "I happen to have them with me." As he selected a long envelope from several that he took from his pocket, he inquired, "I would like to know what you fellows are going to do with these papers?" "That's none of your business," said Erickson; "but I don't mind telling you that I intend to turn them over to the owners, or at least to let the own- ers know about your game; for I am sure that they would not be a party to any such transaction. The lease expires in two weeks anyhow. But mind you," he added, as he took the envelope, "if you are in the city at this time to-morrow I'll have the officers after you in a hurry." "I'm sorry, Stuart," said Carl as the defeated fraud started to leave the room, "that things have turned out this way; but do you know," with a humorous smile, "it really confirms me in an opinion 152 UNCLE CARL I gave you two days ago. That is, I'd rather trust my business affairs with a man of heart, than with the successful worker who is too much afraid of losing his dignity to play 'mibs' with the boys." "Mr. Englewood," exclaimed Stuart, "it's impos- sible to not believe in you, whether you play 'mibs' or not. You are one in a million, and I wish that I were worthy to be classed with your friends. Do not think I am altogether bad. I am bad enough, but there is some good in me. I want to ask you to shake hands with me; I am not worth it, but some- how I feel that it will be good to shake hands with an honest man." Carl grasped the extended hand warmly. "Try to be a true man," he said; "it is the best way the easiest way the only way to live happily. And happiness is the only goal worth striving for, after all." "I will try! I will try, Englewood," said Stuart. "I thank you, and good-by." Strange, strange! The influence of Truth is an uplifting force, whenever and wherever found. The influence of a pure life puts to shame the most, suc- cessful man of the world whose success has been tainted with impure motives or dishonorable meth- ods. And Carl Englewood's life, though not suc- cessful as the world views success, was yet built on such rocks that even criminals of low order felt his influence, and were rendered less despicable as that influence drew to the surface some of the good that is innate in the heart of every man, no matter how deeply it may be covered with the dross of shame, crime, and dishonor. No man can accurately esti- mate the power and extent of his influence in the UNCLE CARL 153 world. Each one of Mother Nature's children is as a king, a model, for some other child. No matter how high or how low, rich or poor, learned or un- learned a man may be, some one and perhaps many look to his life for strength or guidance. He is a model for others; perhaps for those he least suspects of using him for such a purpose. If he sins he serves as an excuse for others to sin also. If his life is pure, then his influence, though he knows it not, tends to feed and uplift the hungry germs of beauty and truth in the hearts of mankind. If he is earnest, and patient, and courageous, and self-deny- ing then are those with whom his life comes in con- tact spurred on to emulate in some measure his higher conception of life's responsibilities. And every- where he goes, though he speak but little, or not at all, he will be observed; and even though some that meet him will be unable to analyze their thoughts, they may even forget in a few minutes that they have met him, yet will they feel the air balmier, the sky bluer, life pleasanter. They will feel that some- thing good has entered into their hearts and lives and that the journey onward is after all worth while. And so it was with Carl Englewood. Though with his full share of faults, weak in some ways, shortsighted in others, he was thoroughly sincere in all that he did; blameless in spite of his faults. His sincerity and earnestness of purpose had its inevitable result in so moulding his features, his expression, his manner, that those with whom he came in contact were invariably of the one opinion, "This is an honest man." They might not agree with his opinions. His ways of thinking and of doing might not seem to them the wisest way, yet always they would agree that in his heart Truth reigned supreme. So 154 UNCLE CARL that even Stuart, crooked as was his own character, deemed it an honor to be taken by the hand by such a man. And who shall say that his influence was not powerful enough to arrest in some degree the down- ward tendency of the criminal's life? Every one, no matter what his condition, has a strong influence for good or evil; and that influence, of the weakest as well as of the strongest character, is eternal. Every act, no matter how trivial, puts into motion conditions that shall influence untold generations for weal or woe. As a poet has so well expressed, "Deeds are the pulse of Time: his breathing life; And, righeous or unrighteous, being done Must throb in after throbs till Time itself Be laid in stillness, and the universe Quiver and breathe on no mirror more." CHAPTER XVI On the next day, but one, following the events nar- rated in our last chapter, Englewood and the chemist were strolling about the city streets. It was at early twilight, that hour when a lull falls over the day's activities, and a brief respite, a quiet rest, intervenes ere the demons of carousal arouse the city with their myriad flashes of light, and bid their friends start the wild orgies of debauchery. The two men had been discussing Stuart and the failure of his plans. Erickson, a man of some forty-five years, had in his professional career uncovered so many fraudulent schemes that he had come to have very little faith in the rectitude of the average man. Him- self honest to the very core, he had naught but con- tempt for the man who would deliberately violate principle. To discover deceit meant, with him, to regard the deceiver as unworthy of any considera- tion; but before casting him out he believed in de- stroying the fangs, that the human snakes might be rendered less harmful. Little thought would he give to the after career of the sinner. While he had a heart large enough to embrace the whole world, and for those whom he loved he never wearied in atten- tion ; benevolent beyond his means, kindness itself to the unfortunate; yet if one attempted to impose on him, if there appeared the least proof of deceit, or if he discovered anything dishonest in one's character, even though it bore no reference to himself, he would in his bitter contempt devote the sinner to everlast- ing condemnation. Not that he would actively wreak vengeance upon the erring one, but he would abide 156 UNCLE CARL passively even if evil an hundred fold worse than the crime justified should overwhelm the sinner, and he would not lift a hand to save. "For," he would say, "the creature is unworthy to live; why then should I do an injustice to humanity by treating him as if worthy of any consideration." In depriving Stuart of his lease and option on the Golden Pheasant mine he was only following out this creed. Discovering the attempted fraud, he deemed it but justice to deprive the trickster of the means of trying the same project on other parties. He did not think it worth while to consider what rights Stuart might have in spite of his scheming. "He's just a damned rascal," he said, "and I ought to prosecute him ; but I don't like to mix up in court affairs, it takes so much time, so I'll let him go." "But the man must have put a deal of money into the project," said Carl. "The hoisting engine and general repairs must have cost considerable, and I have my doubts whether you do right to deprive him of them." "I don't deprive him of them," replied Erickson. "He can come back and get them if he wants to, only he don't dare do it for fear of prosecution." "Same thing," said Englewood, "same thing, whether you prevent him by fear or force. Still, it was a dastardly thing that he attempted, and, if suc- cessful, would have been nothing less than theft. I hardly think, though, that I would have taken the same steps that you consider so just. To me there is something good in every man; and while I certainly believe in preventing crime, I also believe in giving the good a chance to grow. Turning him off as you did would, it seems to me, only arouse a vengeful feeling, and without deterring him from future crime UNCLE CARL 157 would simply increase his wariness and strengthen his antagonism toward the right way of living." "Oh, shucks ! You can't make an oak tree out of a gooseberry bush," replied Erickson. "This man is a natural criminal, and no amount of preaching or leniency would make him anything but a criminal. Why, what else could I do than I have done in his case except to prosecute him for attempted fraud?" "I don't know that you could have done anything that would accomplish different results than will be produced from the course you have taken," replied Englewood. "Only, it's worth while to try some- times, yes, all times, to leave a man where we have found a scamp. One may fail a thousand times, but if he then succeeds just once, he will have proved his own right to live. If he just earnestly tries to elevate poor sinners, and fails in every one of ten thousand trials, he proves his right to a place in the world. But, if he never tries to use his higher abilities and purer conceptions toward the elevation of his kind, he has little right, I think, to criticise others for their shortcomings. You say well that one 'cannot make an oak tree out of a gooseberry bush.' But who of us is so keen as to be able to give an infallible judg- ment on human character. Who can say that such a man as Stuart has not in him the germ of a sturdy oak. He seems to us to be but a misshapen, scrubby bush. Judging from what we know of him person- ally, taking that as an index to his character, we could well say 'he is wholly bad.' But what do we know of him after all? Only that he has attempted to create an erroneous impression as to the value of the ore taken from the mine. A crime, to be sure I don't belittle that. But what do you or I know of his other characteristics. He may be a Jekyll and 158 UNCLE CARL Hyde character, I have met many such in these Western cities, and while his criminal instincts should be curbed for the good of the community, the better leanings should be strengthened to the end that the growth of the good may crowd out or smother the evil; and this also for the good of the com- munity as well as for his own good. It may not be possible in his case. I don't know, neither do you. But because it seems difficult or impossible, is that any reason for declining to attempt it? I am sure that " "Good evening, gentlemen," interrupted one of two men who just then met our friends. "Good evening," was the response. One of the men was recognized as the engineer who had charge of the hoist at the mine; the other, dressed in a laborer's garb, was a stranger. "My friend here," said the engineer, "is very anxious to find Mr. Stuart. He hasn't been up to the mine for a couple of days and we thought that perhaps one of you gentlemen could tell us where he is." "He's out of town," said the chemist, "and the chances are that he won't come back again. The deal is off. What do you want him for," turning to the laborer, "does he owe you anything?" "Yes, sir," said the man, "he do owe me a bit. But 'twan't that that I wanted to see him for. But how do you know that he won't come back?" "We caught him trying to salt the ore, and he don't dare to come back for fear of prosecution," re- plied Erickson. "Naw! Is that so?" ejaculated the two men in a breath. "I was suspicious that he was up to some under- UNCLE CARL 159 handed work," said the engineer, "but of course it was no business of mine and so I said nothing." The laborer seemed to muse a moment as he looked from one to the other of the men. Finally he said, addressing Englewood: "Be you the man that come purty nigh to bein' killed in the shaft t'other day?" "Yes," said Carl, "and a pretty narrow shave it was." "I asks your pardin, sir," resumed the man, "but mayn't your name be Englewood?" "Yes, that is my name," answered Carl. "Well, sir," said the laborer. "I've heern tell of you before. My kid, he thinks a sight on you, and talks about you ever' chanct he gits. I'm his dad. Deneen's my name, Ralph Deneen's dad." "Ralph's father!" exclaimed Carl cordially, and warmly shaking Deneen's hand. "Well now, I'm glad to know you; Ralph is a bright, faithful little friend of mine, and it is not difficult to imagine where his fidelity springs from." "I thank you, sir," modestly answered Deneen. "But, sir, if it bean't asking too much uv you, can I speak to you privately, sir? I've summat that I wanted to tell to Mr. Stuart, but as it ain't so that I kin I'd like to ask your advice, sir." "Certainly, certainly," said Carl. "We were just about to return to the hotel. Come over there with us and I'll give you all the time you want." "Well," said the engineer, "I guess I'll mosey along home. I suppose, Mr. Erickson, that if Stuart isn't coming back there is no more use for me at the Pheasant, is there?" "I think not," replied Erickson. "It is not likely 160 UNCLE CARL that you will ever see Stuart here again. His game is up in these parts." "Well, I suppose that I must look for another job then," said the engineer as he turned away. "Good night, gentlemen." "Good night," they responded, and a few minutes later entered the hotel, where, in a quiet corner of the lobby, Deneen proceeded to give a surprising bit of news; Erickson, by Englewood's request, being admitted to the conference. On the day that the chemist had visited the mine, Deneen had been put to work in the three-hundred level, more to get him out of the way than for any other purpose. Working in a desultory fashion at the further end of the tunnel, he had placed a blast- ing charge in a rock crevice, and lighting the fuse retired toward the shaft, arriving just in time to wit- ness Jenkins's attempted crime. During the ensuing excitement his work was forgotten and he joined in the search for the fugitive. Returning to the mine the next day to get his tools, he glanced indifferently at the results of his blast, but upon stooping to pick up his implements he became interested in a bit of rock thrown near them by the explosion. It was of un- doubted richness in the precious metal ; and upon ex- amining more closely the rended rock, he discovered that he had uncovered a body of gold-bearing quartz of great value. How extensive the pay streak was could only be told by further work, but he had put a few samples in his pocket which he showed to our two friends. They were of undoubted richness. "Uv course it belongs to Mr. Stuart," said Deneen ; "but if I can't tell him about it, I thought you two gentlemen mought advise me what to do about it." "Stuart is out of it," said Erickson. "He tried to UNCLE CARL 161 work a criminal game and is not deserving of any benefit arising from this discovery. Besides, he has turned the lease over to me. The first thing to be done, however, is for us to make a thorough exami- nation of this new lead, and mature our plans later. If it is at all promising my report to our Eastern friends will, of course, be materially changed." "Erickson," said Englewood, "I don't agree with you at all so far as Stuart is concerned. He tried to deceive us, of course, but he didn't succeed; and though you have his lease in your pocket he has not signed it over to you. He is legally just as much in possession of that property as though he held the paper himself. I think that we should, of course, examine this find, and if it is a valuable one should report accordingly. But I think, also, that having driven the owner away, we would be morally culp- able if we did not make some effort to convey the in- formation to him. I think that if we do not we will be just as guilty of theft as he would have been had his plans succeeded." "But he is not morally entitled to this information, even if he has a legal hold on the mine," said the chemist. "He's a rascal and you know it. Why then exert ourselves to put money in a rascal's pocket? Besides, if he knew of this find, he would insist upon a controlling interest; and with his character the men who put up the money to develop the mine would come out of the little end of the horn. In another ten days his option will have expired, and we can then make terms with the owners that will be greatly advantageous to our friends." "I don't think, Erickson, that Stuart is such a villain as you believe him to be," responded Carl, ii 1 62 UNCLE CARL "He has shown us his weak spot, but we all have our weaknesses " "Not dishonest ones, though," interjected Erick- son. " and Stuart, while crooked in this matter, has always borne a good reputation. He has, I under- stand, been a steady, patient plodder, driving sharp bargains, it is true, but never heretofore has he been suspected of illegal practices. I believe that he would do the right thing here under the circumstances. His original proposition was to retain a third interest in the mine. I believe that we can hold him to that. I believe that we should give him a chance. Besides, we could still hold against him the charge of at- tempted fraud. I don't believe it would be necessary to threaten him, but that could be held in reserve in case he should not want to do the square thing." "Well, the first thing to be done is to investigate," said Erickson. "Suppose we go up with Deneen to- morrow." "All right," said Carl. "I'll be at liberty. And I hope we will find a big prospect." The mine was duly examined the next day, and it certainly gave promise of being of immense value. Carl's insistence finally won Erickson over, and Stuart, having been traced, was persuaded to meet the two men at their hotel. The find having been made known to him, he was, in spite of Erickson's prophecy, willing to carry out the previous agreement. He insisted, however, that Englewood should accept an interest in the company to be formed. "Had it not been for you, Mr. Englewood," he said, "I should have lost my all. I have for years worked hard and honestly tried to do the square thing. Having saved up a few thousand dollars I UNCLE CARL 163 invested it all in this venture, believing that the mine could be made to pay. And while I did a wrong, a criminal thing, in attempting to deceive you as to the value of the ore, I certainly believed that the outcome would be profitable ; for even the low-grade ore that was thrown away on the dumps contains a profit if worked by modern methods. This is the first time I have tried the criminal's path, and through you I have been saved from its continuance. For I was left without a dollar in the world and I have not the patience to climb up again by honest methods. You have given me new hope and I insist that you share with me my interest in the mine. There will be enough and more than enough for us all." Englewood turned to the chemist with a smile. "Erickson," he said, "don't you think it worth while now ? Isn't it better to leave a man where you find a scamp?" "Shucks !" growled the chemist. "Maybe you're right in this case, but I think it a poor rule to follow. I have no patience with trickery." Carl, however, refused to accept the gift. "I have done nothing to deserve it," he said. "It was not my discovery. I shouldn't have known the find to be rich in gold if I had stumbled across it. I'm glad that I was able to help you to your own, but I decline to be paid for doing what seems to me to be the right thing to do. I have a request to make, however. Deneen discovered the lead, and like an honest man made it known to you through us. He is a hard worker, and poor. I would think it right that he be given a goodly interest in the company stock." This was agreed to, and as Carl persisted in his refusal, the papers were finally drawn up in legal form by an attorney, and the next train bore the chemist back to Chicago to make his report. CHAPTER XVII George Courtright was seated at his desk in his cosy private office on Wabash Avenue, Chicago, en- gaged with his legal work, when his secretary ap- peared at the door with the announcement that a young lady wished to see him. "I am busy now," said the lawyer; "tell her to call at our regular hour to-morrow." The secretary withdrew, but soon reappeared, and in response to Courtright's impatient "Well !" he said : "The young lady says, sir, that she will wait until you have time to see her. She says she comes from Mr. Englewood." "Englewood!" exclaimed Courtright. "Show her in, show her in. Any one from Englewood is wel- come at all times." And soon our friend's little protegee, Hattie Braton, was ushered in. Poor girl ! she was de- cidedly not at her best. The severe life of the West had robbed her of the fresh bloom of childhood, and the hard, tired lines had not been softened by the days of travel from that far place. Travel-stained and weary, she timidly approached the lawyer. But he felt a sudden sympathy as he looked at her tired, pleading eyes, and rising to place a chair for her, bade her be seated. "My secretary tells me that you come from Mr. Englewood?" he said interrogatively. "Yes, sir," answered Hattie. "And are you Mr. Courtright, sir?" "That is my name," he replied, "and I may add UNCLE CARL 165 that any one coming in Mr. Englewood's name is welcome here; very welcome." "Thank you, sir," said the girl. "He gave me this for you, and perhaps you had better read it before you welcome me too cordially," and with a smile, half pleading, half embarrassed, she handed a letter to Mr. Courtright. "Have you known Mr. Englewood long?" he asked as he cut the envelope. "Only a few days," she replied, "but he has been a good friend to me." "He is always that to every one he meets. It's a chronic complaint with him," smiled Courtright, and was soon interested in the letter. During its perusal he occasionally looked up with a keen glance at tfee girl, who sat dejectedly in her chair, but met his eyes steadily. Slowly folding the letter and replacing it in the en- velope he muttered, "Just like him, just like him. Always up to some such tricks," and sat in meditative silence for some moments, and then addressing the girl he drew from her the outline of her life in the West and of Mr. Englewood's kindness to her. While there were some things in her history that superficial critics and prudes would consider sufficient cause for condemnation, yet Courtright was a keen judge of human nature; and Hattie's straightforward answers to his questions, her clear, unshrinking eyes that, without boldness, yet met his without a waver, and above all that impalpable yet patent atmosphere of purity and truth that clung to her despite the equivocal circumstances in which she had been found, begat in him a confidence in her worth. None of us is perfect; all have faults of greater or less degree; yet, in spite of faults, it is possible 1 66 UNCLE CARL to live a blameless life. Integrity, purity of purpose, fidelity to principle and steadfast endeavor to live a life of truth and virtue may be coupled with a physi- cal weakness, a constitutional short-sightedness, a limited intellectual capacity that will cause the work sought to be accomplished to prove abortive. Just as, no matter how perfect the boilers nor how steady the pressure of steam, if the machinery to which it is applied is imperfect, the results accomplished will fall below the mark. And so we are not always blamable because our purposes fail. The fault oft- times lies with the machine to which we apply the force; it is unable to perform the work which our purpose demands. So Hattie Braton, the victim of circumstances, hav- ing full knowledge of and faith in the rectitude and purity of her real self, placed overmuch confidence in the faulty medium and believed that she would have strength to accomplish her aims without sullying her character when misfortune threw her in the midst of low associates. Had she not been rescued in time, it is not difficult to surmise what her end would have been. Not yet was she old enough, .nor strong enough, successfully to combat influences that have crushed into the mire some of the world's grandest intellects. Yet she was still pure in heart and mind and body, and with wise care might yet become as strong in execution as she was upright in purpose. And so Courtright believed as he questioned the girl. Englewood's heart often blinded his eyes to the real character of those whom he would help. But in this case Courtright thought that the object was a worthy one. "Do you know the contents of this letter, Miss UNCLE CARL 167 Braton?" asked Courtright, as he turned to his desk and began to put away his papers. "No, sir," Hattie replied; "only that Mr. Engle- wood told me that you would take charge of me for the present. But, indeed, sir, I have no wish to be- come a burden upon him or you. I only wish for the chance to live right and earn my own way, and he said that you and your wife would help me." "That we will, that we will," said Courtright. "Mr. Englewood's purpose is that you should have suitable opportunity for the development of your character, believing that you are well worth helping. I may add that I, also, am of the opinion that his con- fidence is not misplaced. However, we will discuss ways and means more at length after you are rested from your journey. But now we had better, I think, go home to my wife," touching the bell as he spoke, "and she will see to your comfort for the present." "Ellis," as the secretary appeared, "if Burbank comes in tell him that I have a telegram from Erick- son saying he will arrive the day after to-morrow. He and Styles might come to my office, say Thursday morning, and hear his report." "And now, Miss Braton, if you will come with me we will see if the good wife can't take that tired look out of your face. She's a great comforter, my wife." "Thank you, sir," said Hattie. "I am indeed very tired. But don't let me burden you or your wife too heavily." "No^ danger of that," said he. "My wife just revels in burdens. Isn't happy unless she's tossing several of them in the air as a juggler does his balls. Regular Samson, too; the heavier they are the better she likes them around." 1 68 UNCLE CARL And so saying he escorted the girl to the elevated, and they were soon whirling toward his suburban home. And while the iron horse hurries them on- ward we will introduce the lawyer's wife to our read- ers. Mrs. Courtright was one of those women who de- light in doing good. She had little use for those glar- ing charity organizations which, with much pomp and glitter of brilliant oratory, pose as the mecca for the distressed, and whose members, while sub- scribing with ostentatious liberality to some popular call, would turn a grudging shoulder to misery at the doorstep that made no loud clamor nor claim to the special distinction of publicity. Still less regard did she have for those organizations, chiefly of society women, which make a fad of charity as a pastime, but in which real benevolence has no abiding place. She held no membership in red-tape organizations of any sort; but was, rather, a believer in and practicer of those little benevolent deeds, those helpful words that give encouragement and strength to the weary struggler. Her wish was to help the helpless to help themselves. Of material things she never gave with- out thought of its results. She would not give at random ; she would not make a beggar of a suppliant but, except in case of sickness or other unavoidable circumstances that made immediate financial relief necessary, she would encourage independence, and would quietly secure employment and encourage the needy to do for self rather than to live upon the bounty of others. But above all else she loved to help the young in their growth; to see that the young plants that were denied their full natural development, because of ad- verse circumstances or unfortunate environment, had UNCLE CARL 169 placed before them opportunities for the unfolding of their higher selves, and their definite establishment in the garden of humanity as living flowers of purity and truth. And so, though never neglecting her home duties, she passed many hours in her quiet, cheerful way, giving comfort and courage to the despondent and assisting to their feet the discouraged. To her own family, her husband and three young children, her loving care was unstinted, and in their eyes she was the embodiment of all the virtues; while to those in the outer world, to meet and greet this dear lady was an event to lighten the darkest day; and in speaking of her she was perhaps more often called "Mother" Courtright, with a loving emphasis on that holiest title, than the more formal "Mrs. Court- right." It was toward the home of this lady that the train was fast carrying the lawyer and Mr. Engle- wood's protegee. A short ten minutes' walk from the station brought them to the house, a large, comfortable, two-story dwelling, with a wide expanse of lawn and a winding cement walk leading from the gate to the broad porch. A plentiful number of luxuriant maple trees, trim, well-kept flower beds here and there, a gleam- ing statue or so, hammocks and swings for the chil- dren, and at a little distance a miniature lake, where two stately swans were gracefully gliding about, were evidences of a pleasant, comfortable home. As they entered through the gateway and ad- vanced up the walk there was a sudden rush of feet and the cry, "Here's papa ! Here's papa !" and then with a spring into the outstretched arms a sweet little girl of ten years clung about the father's neck, while a lad perhaps two years older grasped an arm with an eager, "Hello, papa 1" and then toddling down the 170 UNCLE CARL walk with cries of "Da-da, da-da 1" came the belated baby of the family to cling about the father's leg. "Well, well, well! youngsters, "said he as he fondly kissed them, "I am afraid you've forgotten some- thing, haven't you?" "Why no," answered Mary, "I don't think I have. What is it, papa?" "I don't remember that I've forgotten anything either," said Arthur. "I think that you've forgotten to keep your eyes wide open," said Courtright; "but Beatrice hasn't. Just look at her, she sees we've got company." Hattie had withdrawn a few paces, and the baby was toddling across the walk with her little arms stretched up. Hattie took the baby's hands in hers, but the child was not satisfied with this. "Tate me yup and tiss me," she lisped; and the girl, with a questioning look toward Courtright, who was smiling approval, quickly raised the baby in her arms, where it snuggled contentedly with a chubby arm about her neck. The father, with a loving pride, then formally in- troduced the two children to Miss Braton, and with the dignity of older years they advanced and offered their hands to her. As they now moved toward the house, Courtright would have taken the baby, but Hattie said: "Please, if you don't mind, let me carry her. I I it seems strange to say it, but I have never held a little baby before. Oh, how happy you must be, sir. This is such a beautiful welcome home to you, and" a tear came very near the surface "I never had a home." "Poor child, poor child!" he responded. "You have been cheated out of the best of childhood. But let us believe that the clouds have passed. For UNCLE CARL 171 Englewood's sake now, and I believe for your own as we get better acquainted, we will hope that this will be your home for the future. However, I do not make this as a promise. The good wife will decide all such questions." "Oh, papa, I did forget something after all," in- terrupted Arthur. "Mama has gone down to Mrs. Bullock's, and she said if she didn't get back before you came home, to have you call down there for her." "In that case I think that I'll go right down, if you'll excuse me, Miss Braton ; the children will care for you for a little, and I wish to see Mr. Bullock, too, on a little matter of business. Now, youngsters, you take Miss Braton right into the house and make her comfortable." "Yes, papa," said Mary, "and shan't I take her up to Aunt Mattie's room?"' "Why, yes, I think that is a good idea. You poor child, I'd forgotten that you might want to get rid of the travel-stains. Arthur, run in and tell Kate to come here." The boy dashed away and they entered the hall. Kate, a buxom, fresh-faced Irish servant, soon came in, and Mr. Courtright directed her to care for the young lady, and to have her trunk, which would soon come up from the station, carried up to the room vacated a few days before by "Aunt Mattie," a sister of Mrs. Courtright. "It may be that we shall not be home for an hour or so, so you can have a good clean-up before you meet my wife. And, Kate, perhaps you had better get Miss Braton a little lunch, as dinner will not be served for three hours yet." "Yis, sor, I will thot," said Kate. "This way, m'am, and we'll hev ye frishened up in no time." "Oh, sir," said Hattie, as she turned to follow the 172 UNCLE CARL servant, "you are so kind, I can't thank you. It seems so strange to have some one think for me." "There, there, child, trot along. You'll think I'm as hard-hearted as a stone when the wife starts in," and tossing the children in his arms, with a kiss for each, he walked swiftly away. "Makes a man feel like an idiot to want to cry," he soliloquized. "What a life that poor girl must have led to be so grateful for ordinary courtesies !" CHAPTER XVIII On the day following the events narrated in our last chapter, Lawyer Courtright sat in his private office, enjoying his after-dinner cigar, when Ellis an- nounced that Mr. John Stanhope was in the outer office, and almost immediately that gentleman brusquely elbowed the secretary aside and advanced with effusive manner and outstretched hand. "Hello, Courtright," said he, "glad to see you. I was in the city on business, and having a little time to spare thought I would call on you." "Good afternoon, Mr. Stanhope," said Courtright coldly, ignoring the extended hand. "I can spare a few moments if you are here on business, otherwise, I must ask you to excuse me." Our lawyer, knowing Stanhope to be an utterly unprincipled man, always found it difficult to meet him without showing his con- tempt. Himself a man of honor, he scorned the "sharper," no matter how successful he might be in the eyes of the world; and a man who would stoop to dishonor met with scant courtesy from him. "Oh, I have no special business," said Stanhope, "only as you were somewhat interested in Engle- wood's trusteeship of the Cramer estate I thought that I would let you know how things are going." "Nothing new, is there?" asked Courtright. "I wrote you requesting postponement for a short time until Englewood's return. He will be here in a few days." "Then you haven't heard of his accident?" asked Stanhope. "Accident! What accident?" i 7 4 UNCLE CARL "Why, in the mine. I have had word that he fell down a mine shaft. Shocking thing! Fell some noo feet, and of course was killed." "You lie, you scoundrel! What low scheme are you at now!" exclaimed the startled lawyer. "Rather hard words, Mr. Courtright," said Stan- hope with a sneer. "But your courtesy was ever of the hard sort. I do not lie, but have received a tele- gram from my agent in the West, giving me the in- formation. I think I have it about me now," and searching through his pockets the man finally pro- duced the telegram Jenkins had sent him. Courtright read it with unbelieving eyes. Engle- wood dead ! It could not be possible ! that great lov- ing heart stilled! That earnest, faithful friend! No, no! It was impossible. Courtright sank back in his chair. "Has this report been verified?" he asked. "My agent, Jenkins, was at Rock Gulch at the time," said Stanhope, "on business connected with some mining interests, and happened to be an eye- witness of the accident. He has since returned East, and was in my office two days ago. He gave me but meagre particulars, as he was on his way to catch his train when the accident occurred. However, this is not what I came for. It is my desire to close up this Cramer estate as soon as possible. The proofs of the daughter's death are expected daily, and then I think that there is nothing in the way of settling the property. It may not be known to you, Mr. Courtright, that I am the heir-at-law to this prop- erty." "You heir-at-law !" exclaimed Courtright. "I had heard something about your being related, but I I Oh, God! Englewood dead! poor old UNCLE CARL 175 friend!" and rising abruptly, Courtright grasped his hat and started for the door. "Ellis," he snouted, "show Stanhope out and lock up; I am going out. Ellis, our old friend Englewood is dead. Stanhope, I wish you would call in the morning. I am not in condition now to talk business. Englewood! poor old Englewood!" he almost sobbed, strong man though he was, and in a frenzy of grief the lawyer made his way to the street. For hours he walked the pavement. Of all the men he had met in a busy life, none had appealed to him as had Englewood, and a strong, earnest friendship had sprung up between them. The lawyer loved him as a brother, aye, as more than a brother; it seemed as if the dead man had been part of his life itself. Never had Court- right so realized the place Carl occupied in his heart. How often when tempted to adopt some little legal subterfuge in the prosecution of his business, had he seen with his conscience Englewood's sad eyes, and had turned away from temptation for the sake of the respect he bore him. How many times when he had coldly passed some unfortunate suppliant, had he turned back with the half-formed feeling, rather than thought, of what his friend's course would have been in such a case. How often had he checked unworthy thought and selfish action in himself, that he might feel himself more worthy of the friendship of this pure, honest man; and now to feel that it was all over ! And so the lawyer walked and mourned dur- ing the afternoon. It never occurred to him to doubt the information Stanhope had given him. The tele- gram was positive and Stanhope said he had verified it. The shock had been so sudden and his grief so keen that, trained lawyer though he was, he could not yet order his thoughts to a cold contemplation of 176 UNCLE CARL the circumstances. His heart and mind were simply overcharged with a great grief for his friend. Late in the afternoon his aimless wandering brought him near the Grand Central Station ; and he stood for some moments, seeing but not observing the crowd of passers-by, when a man who was pass- ing with a traveling-case in each hand paused, and then dropping his burdens on the pavement, extended his hand to the lawyer. "Hello, Mr. Courtright," he said, "what are you mooning here for in broad daylight? You look as if you had lost your best friend." "Oh, it is you, Erickson. Yes, I have lost my best friend. The best friend a man ever had. Carl Englewood is dead. Poor Carl !" "Englewood dead!" exclaimed Erickson. "You don't mean it. How did it happen? Why, I left him sound and well only three days ago." "Why, of course," said the lawyer, not realizing, if indeed he had heard Mr. Erickson's closing state- ment. "You must have been there at the time and probably know all about it. Tell me how it hap- pened. I have been so stunned that I haven't even inquired for particulars." "How what happened?" asked Erickson. "I don't know what you are driving at. When did Mr. Englewood die?" "Why, I don't know," replied Courtright. "Mr. Stanhope, a fellow-trustee of Englewood's, was in my office just after dinner and showed me a telegram from a Mr. Jenkins, saying that my dear old friend had fallen down a shaft and been killed. He saw the accident himself." "Telegram from who? Jenkins?" exclaimed the chemist. UNCLE CARL 177 "Yes, I believe that was the name. And he fol- lowed the telegram, and was in Stanhope's office two days ago and verified it," said the lawyer. "See here, Mr. Courtright," said Erickson, "either you have misunderstood or there is something crooked in this. If this man Jenkins was in Stan- hope's office two days ago and was himself a witness of the accident, it could not have occurred later than five days ago. I myself saw Englewood three days ago in good health and he is coming East in a few days. There is a mistake somewhere. Your friend is no more dead that I am." "Englewood not dead! Thank God! Thank God!" almost shouted Courtright, and then he sank back trembling against the railing near where he stood. "That's almost too good to be true," he said more collectedly. "Prove it and you will have lifted the greatest weight from my heart that it has ever carried." "I think that I see where the crookedness lies," said Erickson. "There was an accident ten days ago, but Englewood was not hurt, and a man named Jen- kins, who was at the bottom of it, left too suddenly to know the results. But this is no place for explana- tions." "Come to my office, come to my office, quick! Erickson, you have made me ten years younger. Here I've been mooning about the streets all the afternoon, and nothing was the matter after all. But, hurry up, I must hear all about it. Englewood alive ; the old joker, to fool me so ! I'll fix him when I see him. Come on, come on!" and about as near hysterics as a strong man can become with such a sudden revulsion from deep grief to great joy, 178 UNCLE CARL Courtright grasped Erickson's arm and hurried him on to his office, some six or eight blocks distant, chat- tering the while like a school-girl out for a lark. The staid, dignified lawyer was so transported with joy that had his business associates met him they would have thought him unbalanced. However, reaching his office, now deserted, he was soon made acquainted with the facts at Erickson's disposal. Suspicion of Stanhope was a necessary factor in the discussion which followed, and it was agreed that Englewood's escape and his arrival in Chicago should be kept secret from him for the present, in order that they might fathom his schemes if possible. There could be little doubt, they thought, that Jenkins and Stanhope were in collusion, and that immediately after the attempted murder Jenkins had returned to his master to report. At last, having made arrange- ments for the morrow's meeting and the report on the mining investigation, the two men parted; and with a lightened heart Courtright boarded the train for home. The following morning Stanhope arrived at Mr. Courtright's office at about ten o'clock, and found him looking tired and sad. For it was in the law- yer's plan to seem to believe in and grieve over the death of his friend. He therefore assumed a low- spiritedness that he was far indeed from feeling. Whether or not Stanhope had had any hand in the at- tempted crime, Courtright believed that he was ready to take advantage of any opportunity to further his own interests, and he had a decided suspicion that he was in some way endeavoring to profit by Carl's ab- sence. He questioned Stanhope closely in regard to the accident, but the latter had little information to give. Indeed, Jenkins had not given him the full UNCLE CARL 179 particulars, and he had no suspicion of the fell part his henchman had taken in the tragedy. Stanhope himself, be it said, fully believed his report of Engle- wood's fatal accident. "Who is this Jenkins," asked Courtright; "any one I know?" "No, I think not," replied Stanhope. "I have em- ployed him off and on for some years, but I hardly think that you know him. He was at the mine where the accident occurred to look after some interests of mine involving a sale of the property." "I didn't know that you were interested in mining investments," said Courtright. "Is it a developed mine or only a prospect?" "Well, both," said Stanhope. "It is a mine that was supposed to have been worked out. But by ad- vice of a friend of mine I became interested in a lease of it, and upon investigation some new and promising 'prospects' were discovered. Not having a sufficient capital to put it on a paying basis, Stuart and I have interested some Eastern capital in the venture. And it was, I believe, while visiting the mine in company of Erickson, the chemist whom, by the way, I be- lieve you know that the accident occurred." "Yes, Erickson and I are old friends," said Court- right. "I knew he had gone West but did not know it was on your business." "Oh, it wasn't on my business," said Stanhope. "The capitalists whom we have interested in the mine sent him out there to investigate." Evidently Stan- hope was unaware that Courtright was interested in this very syndicate. "They are wary, you know, as they should be; but we have a valuable property and are not afraid of the investigation." "Well! Erickson is honest and will give a proper i8o UNCLE CARL report, I do not doubt. By the way, did you know that he is back?" "No," said Stanhope, "though I expected him be- fore long. When did he get in?" "Yesterday, I believe," said the lawyer. "I had a telephone from him this morning saying he would be over to-day on some business or other. But now about this Cramer estate. Of course, I have no legal status in the proceedings save as Englewood's ad- viser. But may I not urge you to be not too precipi- tate in closing this matter up?" "What's the use of delay," said Stanhope. "I am the only heir now that the girl is dead, and I can prove up everything. To tell the truth, this money would be mighty handy just now, and I see nothing to be gained by delay. The case is on call for the 1 4th, just a week from to-day." "Well; I'll try to be on hand to look after my friend's interests," said the lawyer. "But really I don't like to see such things rushed." "I suppose not," said Courtright with a covert sneer. "You lawyers are always on the lookout for fees." "Yes, and for scamps too," retorted the lawyer. Stanhope scowled and would have replied with some heat, but that the door opened and Erickson, the chemist, entered hastily. "Ah, Courtright; engaged, are you?" he said. "Pardon me, I'll withdraw. I thought that you were alone." "Stay," said the lawyer; "we are about through, and I think that Mr. Stanhope here would like to meet you. Mr. Erickson, Mr. Stanhope; the gentle- man of whom we were speaking a few moments since." UNCLE CARL 181 "Glad to know you, Mr. Erickson," said Stanhope, extending his hand, which the chemist barely touched with his own. "I trust that you found the prospect you went to investigate all that it was represented to be. I am somewhat interested in that deal in a finan- cial way." "Oh, you are, are you?" said Erickson suspiciously. "I thought Stuart was engineering it alone. How- ever, I haven't made a full assay of the samples yet. I will say, though, that I think the mine is probably good." "I have no doubt of it," said Stanhope, gleefully rubbing his hands. "We are expecting to do well with that property. Oh ! by the way, you must have been there when Englewood met with that sad acci- dent." "Good Lord, yes!" said Erickson. "Don't speak of it; it was an awful thing." "Won't you tell us the particulars," asked Stan- hope. "I know but little beyond the bare fact of his death." "Excuse me," said the chemist with apparent aver- sion. "I don't like to think of it. Englewood was such a decent fellow too." "He was really killed, then?" asked Courtright wistfully. "I had hoped there was some mistake." "Killed!" said Erickson. "Well, he was said to have fallen noo feet straight down. Such a fall as that would kill a man before he struck bottom. I didn't see the body brought to the surface. It was awful. Change the subject." "I don't wonder that you are averse to discussing it," said Stanhope. "When will you make your re- port on the mine to the syndicate?" "Oh, some time soon. No hurry," replied Erick- 1 82 UNCLE CARL son. "And now if I may, Courtright, I'd like to talk a little business with you." "Very well," said the lawyer. "Mr. Stanhope will excuse us, I am sure. Oh, going, are you?" as Stan- hope rose to depart. "Well, I'll try to be on hand on the 1 4th. Good day to you." As the door closed on the retreating form Mr. Gourtright clenched his fist. "Of all detestable ver- min!" he exclaimed. "He bears the stamp of a sneaking scoundrel in every feature. But we'll fath- om his schemes yet and frustrate them too!" and turning to Erickson he imparted to him the details of the interview. "Oh, he's a rascal all right," said the chemist. "That's plain enough; but he'll have to get up be- fore he goes to bed to get ahead of us, now that we know him." The syndicate of capitalists held a meeting during the day, and after hearing Erickson's report, closed the mining deal in accordance with the plans that Englewood, Stuart, and he had formulated in Rock Gulch. CHAPTER XIX When Carl Englewood stepped from the train at the Chicago station there was no one to welcome him. He was a stranger in the city, having been there but seldom, and only on brief business trips; and he felt lonely as he witnessed the effusive greetings and happy laughter on all sides. For it made him think of his own isolated life. He essentially a home- man by nature was without a home. In all the broad land there were no homes to which he could feel that he was a needed inmate. Many acquaint- ances, many so-called friends there were in a score of cities, who would be glad to welcome him as a visitor; who respected and admired him as a man. But in none of their homes was he a necessary factor. To enter any one of them and witness the hundred little evidences of private duties and loving care, but emphasized his own lonely condition. And to-day, tired after his long journey, he felt especially the great incompleteness of his life. "Oh!" he muttered, "if Irene and I only had our little home now. But, not yet, not yet, will the gate open for me." He moved on with the throng, and at the street exit from the station was met by Mr. Courtright, who was hurrying thither, having been delayed by an import- unate client at his office. A friend met a friend. Words were not necessary as their hands met in strong pressure, and a tear glistened in Courtright's eyes as he thus greeted the man whom he loved so well; and Carl felt com- forted, for in all the world there was none whom he held in higher esteem than this lawyer friend. 1 84 UNCLE CARL "I suppose you are tired after your long trip, and would like a good clean up the first thing, wouldn't you?" interrogated Courtright, as they walked down the street. "Yes, my dear old friend, I am somewhat weary," replied Englewood. "I think that I'll go to the ho- tel at once and get rid of a few pounds of coal dust." "Not much you won't," said the lawyer. "You'll get on the train and come home with me. Now, shut up ! I won't take 'no' from you in this case. Wife and I have been planning for you for days past. We've got a room all ready for you, and our home is your home for just as long as we can keep you in it." "Thank you, old fellow," replied Carl; "but I don't want to burden you or your good wife, and I think I had better " "I told you to stop your clatter," interrupted Courtright. "You're going home with me. I have put aside all business affairs for the rest of the day, and you will have ample time to clean up, and get a little rest if you want to, before you meet my fam- ily." "But really," said Carl reluctantly, "I would like to clean up first, and then I'll go up this evening and call on Mrs. Courtright." "Do you know what I heard when I left the house this morning?" asked Courtright. "Well, as I was several hundred miles away at the time and have but just arrived, I have had no op- portunity of learning just what you did hear as you left the house this morning," said Carl. "That's funny too," said the lawyer. "I should have thought your ears would have tingled if you had been in China. It was Mary who said, 'Papa, you UNCLE CARL 185 bring dear old Uncle Carl home just as quick as you can, cause he's my bestest chum.' And the wife said, 'We'll have everything ready and I'll be so dis- appointed if he doesn't come,' and then little Beatrice toddled up with, 'I want to tiss Uncle Carl.' Now then, with all of those ladies waiting for you, what have you to say?" "The youngsters win, of course," said Carl. "Dear little tots. You know, you rascal, that I can't re- sist the children." And soon the two friends were whirled off to the lawyer's home, where Englewood was immedi- ately conducted to a large, pleasant room, and left to rest and remove the stains of travel. "Supper will not be ready for two or three hours yet, so take your time," said Courtright. "The wife and children are out for the afternoon, so that every- thing will be quiet and you can have a nap if you want to." "Always thoughtful, aren't you," said Carl. "Nop! that's the wife's part," retorted Court- right. "I'd not be such a chump as to do anything for such a man as " "Thanks," interrupted Carl. "You can finish that dig some other time. But see here, I don't want to snooze before bedtime, for I had a good sleep last night. But I do want to clean up and then I want to learn about things here. Suppose I join you in an hour and we will have our talk out before supper." "All right, come out on the lawn when you are ready. I'll probably be riding the swans around the lake." Two hours later the two friends sat on a bench near the little body of water. It was a warm, bright day, the air fragrant with the odor of many flowers. 1 86 UNCLE CARL A soft breeze fanned them as they sat watching the graceful swans moving with stately dignity through the water. For an hour they had been talking. Ex- planations were given and received, and, as Court- right facetiously remarked, "Now both of us know as much as each other." When Courtright told of the visit of Stanhope to his office and of the telegram from Jenkins, Engle- wood suddenly interrupted him "That's it!" he exclaimed; "I knew I had seen him before." "Seen whom before?" asked Courtright. "Jenkins," said Carl. "When he turned around when I overtook him in the tunnel, there was some- thing strangely familiar about his face, but I couldn't recall where I had seen him. But when you men- tioned Stanhope it flashed upon me. You remember the man who was assaulting a girl in the woods when we were driving down to the lake to meet Stanhope two years ago in Kaloma?" "Yes," answered the lawyer. "Well ! That man and Jenkins are the same." "You don't tell me!" said Courtright. "H'm, light keeps coming. I rather suspected at the time that Stanhope and the fellow had something in com- mon." "Do you know," said Englewood, "that rather accounts for Jenkins's attempt in the shaft in a pleas- anter manner than to think that Stanhope had any- thing to do with it. You remember that I treated the fellow rather roughly in the woods." "Should say I did. You knocked a hole ten feet deep in the earth when you threw him down," exag- gerated the lawyer. "Well, naturally he didn't remember me very UNCLE CARL 187 kindly," resumed Carl; "and when I interrupted him in another bit of criminality he thought I was doing rather more than my share of the frustration act, and his temper got the better of him; so that when the opportunity presented itself to get even he took ad- vantage of it on the spur of the moment. I believe it was more a matter of anger than of deliberate pur- pose." "Maybe so, maybe so, but that doesn't clear Stan- hope. His associations with such a man could hardly have been for good purposes," said Courtright. "Oh, we must watch him," replied Carl; "but I don't want to believe any more evil of him than I have to. And now tell me about the little girl I sent to you from the West." "That little girl is a gem, Englewood," said the lawyer. "I know only in a general way in regard to her surroundings out there, for I have not asked her for the details. I don't care for the details, in fact, unless it is necessary for me to know them. Whatever they were, she has come through with one of the sweetest, purest of characters; though she's foolish enough to think that a rascal named Engle- wood whom she met in Rock Gulch is the noblest man on earth." "Enough of that," said Englewood. "I may be entitled to her gratitude in moderation, but it isn't for you to speak of. Her life will show it if she is as worthy as I thought her. It is perhaps as well for you to know just where and how I found her" ; and Englewood here gave in detail the environments and struggles of Miss Braton so far as he knew them. "And now," he concluded; "if she proves worthy, I want with your help to see that she has the oppor- tunities for growth according to her ability. Her 1 88 UNCLE CARL education should be completed, but so far as possible I want her to be independent." "I'll help her in every way I can," said Court- right. "Not only because you ask it, but for her own sake as well. I don't think that you can do much for her, however." "Why not?" asked Carl. "I can conceive that she may be too proud to receive charity, but surely she can be persuaded to take as a loan the means nec- essary to advance her in life." "It isn't that," said Courtright, "it's my wife. She has taken to Hattie as a mother to her child. And my wife is accustomed to having her own way. In this case she'll want to do it all." "Oh, well ! I'll have to fight your wife then," said Carl. "I, also, am in the habit of having my own way, and so far at least as finances are concerned, I claim the right to bear whatever expense is necessary. However, we'll settle that at a conclave later." "I wish you could have seen the meeting between the girl and my wife," mused Courtright. "Only the children were at home when I arrived with Hattie, the mother having gone to one of the neighbors. So I left the young lady in the care of the youngsters while I went after her. It was a couple of hours later when we entered the home and paused in the doorway of the sitting-room to observe as pretty a picture as one would care to see. The children had taken to her at once and where the affection of children goes with spontaneity you may be sure real worth abides. When we entered, the girl was seated in a big rocker with our baby in her arms, and Mary and Arthur were hanging over the arms of the chair. She was just finishing a little nursery jingle, and as we waited little Beatrice threw her arms about the UNCLE CARL 189 girl's neck. 'I love oo, auntie; tiss me twick,' she lisped. And then the girl looked up and saw us. Putting the child down gently she rose, and half- embarassed, yet with frank directness she said: " 'I ask your pardon if I have taken a liberty, but I have never had little folks with me since I can re- member, and one cannot help loving your children.' "My wife stood a moment longer, and then ad- vancing quickly, folded her arms about the girl. " 'You poor child,' she said, 'just rest here; for you shall never want for a mother or children again.' " 'Oh !' said the girl, 'may I really call you mother? Mother! Thank God!' and then they both stood there crying on each other's shoulders. About that time I had business elsewhere. It was just a true feminine heart meeting and recognizing a true fem- inine heart, and I tell you you'll have a hard job sep- arating them." "I have no wish to separate them," said Engle- wood, wiping his eyes. "But I am sure that your wife's true heart will never forbid me the pleasure of continuing the work I have begun." "You'll have to settle that between you," said the lawyer. It may seem to the reader, when we speak of the readily moistened eyes of the two friends, that it in- dicates a weakness in the character of each. But think a moment, and we believe that you will consider it an evidence of strength rather than weak- ness strength of sympathy, of love, and appreciation of the beauty and truth in human character. Tears of joy or of sorrow for another no strong man need be ashamed of, for they but show that a true heart beats in his bosom. In the sterner duties of life, we appre- hend, indeed we know, that both Englewood and 1 90 UNCLE CARL Courtright would meet their duties, face danger, en- dure distress, and render justice or mercy according to their knowledge, with unwavering determination and without the tremor of a muscle. But when placed amid quiet scenes, with the sounds of life's severer battles subdued by the distance of time and space, a more sympathetic, tender pair of hearts could not be found in the universe. As the two men were conversing further on topics of mutual interest they were suddenly interrupted by the clamor of the children, who, seeing them from a distance, scampered across the lawn with joyful cries of "There's papa, there's papa!" and plunged into his arms. Little Beatrice, outstripped by the older and more impulsive children, bringing up the rear, as usual was the first to notice the visitor. She at once toddled up to him, and looking him gravely in the face, said: "Iss oo Uncle Tarl?" "Of course I am; and you are little Beatrice, aren't you?" said Carl. "Ess I am. Why don't you tate me up and tiss me?" And an instant later she was snuggled closely in the arms of the lonely bachelor. The other children, however, were soon clamoring for place, and Court- right, looking on as Englewood greedily took them all on his knees, smiled sympathetically. "Poor old friend," he said, "it is a pity that you have no little ones of your own to love." "Why, papa?" said Mary. "When Uncle Carl's got us he don't need any more, does he?" "Of course not, little sweetheart," said Engle- wood. "You fill Uncle Carl's heart so full that he has no room for more just at present." UNCLE CARL 191 "Ain't you going to speak to mama, Uncle Carl?" asked Arthur. "She's been waiting ever so long." And indeed, Mrs. Courtright, walking more slowly behind the children, had not been observed by the two gentlemen as she stood at a short distance watching the little comedy. Hastily putting the children down, Englewood advanced toward her. "It is always a proud day with me," he said, "when I can clasp hands with Mrs. Courtright." "Indeed you are not the only proud one on this occasion, Mr. Englewood," said that lady. "You are more than welcome always, but to-day especially so, because through you I have found one of the dear- est little girls in the world." As she said this, Miss Braton, who had lingered behind, advanced with ex- tended hand. "I am glad to join in welcoming such a friend as Mr. Englewood to such a home as Mrs. Court- right's," she said with tremulous lips. "Miss Braton," said Carl, "my heart is too full just now for me to express how I feel at such a wel- come as you all give me. It is no small thing for me to know that there is a place in this home for such a rolling stone as I." "Always more than welcome here, old friend," said Courtright. And then chatting on they all moved toward the house, Carl with Baby Beatrice on his shoulder and the other children holding closely to his coat. Hattie Braton, now that we see her in such different surroundings, was an exceedingly attractive miss. The hard lines were rapidly disappearing under the influence of this happy home, and a sweet winsomeness of feature, a clear, frank and often merry eye, a subdued but care-free manner, were in 192 UNCLE CARL marked contrast to the tired, pleading face with its humbled yet stubborn pride that we saw only three weeks ago in the Theatre Comique. She was dressed in a plainly made but spotlessly clean white dress, with a little touch of color at the throat and in the milliner's creation on her head. Doubtless our lady readers would like a detailed description of her cos- tume, but we are but a man and confess our inability to analyze the wonderful architecture of a w r oman's wardrobe. And dare we confess also, that so long as a woman's dress is clean, with nothing strikingly ugly about it, we see and enjoy the picture without noting the details? Tasteful dress is necessary, but like the minor details of a picture, if it is in good taste it emphasizes the main character without ob- truding itself for special consideration. In music there are some who are so well educated in its mysteries that they grasp whole grand har- monies at once; but the large majority of music lov- ers only follow the main air, the other parts being but indefinitely heard or felt as perfecting the single strain giving it a setting, so to speak. If there should be a discord it would be at once felt and noted, but if the harmony is perfect they feel and enjoy the whole but remember only the air. And so, we appre- hend, it is in matters of dress. Many women, and some men, grasp every detail. But the large ma- jority, unless there be something inharmonious, in bad taste, a discord, take but little note of the details. If all is well they enjoy the whole; but after all it is the personality, of which dress is only the set- ting or embellishment, that attracts. It is the face, the ego, that appeals to us. We call at our friends' homes to see them, not their furniture. We like or dislike, admire or condemn, love or hate, not what UNCLE CARL 193 is worn but the one who wears it. And so, dear la- dies, continue to dress the best you know how, for both the educated and the uneducated realize and appre- ciate the perfect. But remember, too, that simplicity in dress, as in music, is better understood and enjoyed by the majority than is a too elaborate mass of frills and furbelows. Miss Braton was tall for her age, with a graceful yet decided step and bearing, somewhat unusual in one just verging on womanhood. And as she and Mr. Courtright walked in advance, Carl was im- pressed with her general appearance, even as he had been pleased by the quiet ease with which she greeted him. "I can hardly believe she is the same young lady that I knew out West," he said, addressing Mrs. Courtright. "Why, I thought that she was just an unfortunate little girl that needed a helping hand; and here she seems to be a full-blown rose of a wo- man, to whom, if I didn't know different, I would hardly suggest that she needed assistance." "She is a dear, sweet little girl," said Mrs. Court- right. "And though we have had her with us less than a fortnight, it seems as if she had always nestled in my heart. But I know she needs help. Not that she is weak, but that her misfortunes have almost discouraged her; and I am going to see that she has every opportunity to develop what I believe to be an exceptionally fine character." "Where do I come in?" asked Carl. "Surely you are not going to take my work away from me?" "You have done enough," said the lady. "To use a slang expression, 'that's what I call gall,' " humorously remarked Englewood. "I find 13 i 9 4 UNCLE CARL a flower, take steps to transplant it and anticipate a great deal of pleasure in assisting it to grow, and my lady steps in and announces her determination to de- prive me of that pleasure because she likes the flower herself." "But really, my dear friend, you cannot give her the care she needs," said Mrs. Courtright. "She needs first a home and the little attentions that only a woman can give. She needs education and society of the right kind. She needs, oh, a thousand things that you could never give her." "I know that," responded Carl, "and it was for that reason that I took the liberty of sending her to you. For you know how to do these things ; and I am truly glad that your heart has gone out to her for herself instead of because you were ever willing to help all unfortunates. But at the same time, there is considerable financial expense to be borne, and that burden I claim as my right. The money end is about all a great ugly man can handle anyhow, and I don't purpose giving up that part of it." "You are wrong, Carl Englewood," said Mrs. Courtright. "The money end, as you call it, is not all, not even the most important part of what a good man can 'handle' for the good of others. I can say without hesitation that there is a man whose whole life so far as I know it and I have been more or less in touch with it for some years has been a most potent influence in the upbuilding of character, where the money question did not enter at all. Ever ready with the kind word, the sympathetic counsel, the help- ing hand, he has done his part, done it well, and he has not been over-supplied with money either. Our little friend Hattie has had more good done for her, has had her eyes opened to more, of real beauty in UNCLE CARL 195 life, has been given more courage and pure ambition, higher aims and loftier ideals by the ready sympa- thy and friendly counsel and assistance of this man than she could have gained with a bank account of a million dollars. Money is good, but it is not all, or even the major part of the real good that a man can do." "I am very glad," said Carl, "if Miss Braton has such a friend as you say, though I must also confess to a little feeling of disappointment, for I had really counted on the privilege of helping her myself. However, let the best be done for her that can be, for I believe her to be very worthy. I suppose that I shall meet this paragon of perfection, shall I not? Who is he, anyhow?" "Oh, you are splendid !" exclaimed Mrs. Court- right. "Know, most innocent sir, that Miss Braton says that the only man she ever knew, save her father, who was a real friend to her; the man whom she con- siders the noblest of God's creatures and reveres be- cause she can't help it; the one in whose eyes before all others she wishes to stand purified and worthy of his trust and friendship, is Mr. Carl Englewood." "Thanks," said Carl laconically. "So you thought flattery spread on thick enough would cause me to yield wholly to your care the flower I found, did you ? It won't work, my lady. I try to do my duty in a small way, it is true, but you have rather over- seasoned the cake. I still hold that it is my right to stand the financial end of the work." "My dear friend," said the lady, "it was perhaps vulgar to say such very complimentary things, but I didn't overdo it. You yourself are constantly talking about giving people flowers before they are dead rather than after, and though you dislike to receive 196 UNCLE CARL them yourself I thought I would just give you a little bunch of the flowers to which I know you to be en- titled. However, I have no wish to debar you from your rights with Hattie, and you will have plenty to do. We will discuss all of that later, for we need your counsel ; and then, too, you must know the little girl better before we take any decisive steps." Having by this time arrived at the house, our friends separated to prepare for the evening meal; following which, came a good romp with the child- ren and then the little folk snugly tucked away in their beds the older people settled down to a quiet, chatty evening hour. The two ladies withdrew early, leaving the men with their cigars; Mrs. Courtright saying: "I have a thousand things to talk about with you, Mr. Englewood, but I know that you and my hus- band have yet some business of importance to discuss. So, I'll wait; but just you be prepared for to-morrow, for I am going to take you in hand then." "What a terrible prospect!" said Carl. "It's for- tunate that my experience with the wild Indians of the West has taught me fortitude, otherwise, I am afraid that I would fade away during the night. However, I'll be prepared for your worst," and with a fervent "Good night," and a low-voiced, "God keep you, Mr. Englewood," from Hattie, the ladies retired. Our two friends sat long after the ladies had left them, discussing probable and possible developments in regard to the Cramer estate. They were agreed that, in the light of Mrs. Hazelton's report of Hattie Cramer and her suspicion that there may have been some mistake in the matter, the question should be thoroughly investigated. Carl could not sufficiently UNCLE CARL 197 blame himself for having neglected seeing his ward, and personally giving her in charge of his old-time friend. His regret was keen, though at the time he knew of no reason for the adoption of a different ar- rangement. It was also agreed between the two friends that Stanhope was not to be trusted, and each had a strong suspicion that he was in some way guilty of sharp practice in the matter at issue. He was now the only surviving relative of the deceased Cramer, and thus, in law, heir to the property. But his un- necessary haste in trying to close the estate; his re- lations with Jenkins ; the sudden and mysterious death of the girl all combined to render caution advisable. It was therefore decided that Courtright should ap- pear before the probate court at the appointed time, and secure if possible a delay of a few weeks. They felt that there could be no reasonable objection to this in the minds either of the judge or of Stanhope. Proofs of Englewood's death had not yet been re- ceived, and due respect for the deceased would be sufficient warrant for a short postponement. Also, Courtright would argue, the proofs of Hattie Cramer's death were not sufficient, as Mrs. Hazelton had not made positive declaration that the girl in her charge was the daughter of the deceased Cramer. In behalf of his "late" friend, Englewood, the lawyer would ask that sufficient time be granted to establish the girl's identity. Meanwhile, Carl, after a rest of two or three days, would, if Courtright succeeded in securing the court's indulgence, proceed South, visit the school where his friend's daughter had pursued her studies, and after full investigation there, continue on to Florida to get such light as he could from Mrs. Hazelton. "If there has been any crooked work in the mat- 198 UNCLE CARL ter," said Courtright, "we will ferret it out; and it seems to me that for the present, at least, it is just as well to leave Stanhope in ignorance of the fact that you are still alive, and liable to raise 'particular Ned' with him if he has been up to trickery." "Just as you think best about that," replied Carl. "I know that he is not an upright man, but still I am disinclined to believe him to be altogether a scoun- drel." As the case was on call for the second day follow- ing, it was arranged that Courtright should take the boat for Kaloma the next night; Englewood quietly remaining where he was, and if all turned out well he would leave for the South upon Courtright's return. Having thus settled their program the two friends separated for the night. CHAPTER XX We wonder how our readers view Carl Engle- wood. Have we shown him in his true colors, for be it known we write of a real, not of a fictitious char- acter, or has our pen but imperfectly portrayed the real man? While all who knew him as he lived his life united in believing him to be in every sense a man of honor, there were as many different opinions of him as there are seeds in a pomegranate; and this difference of opinion was due largely to two things. First, his manner when in repose or moving about in public. He had at these times a quiet dignity, a se- rene, independent, yet unobtrusive bearing that, to strangers, was almost repellant. And even to ac- quaintances he seemed so cold and austere that they sometimes shrank from approaching him. Not that they feared him, but there was that about him that affected many as a minister of the gospel sometimes affects a criminal, making him feel as unworthy to associate with the representative of a church; and not only unworthy in their own estimation, but Engle- wood's clear eye and intellectual cast of feature con- veyed the impression that he had that impossible keenness of mental vision that could detect unworthi- ness at a glance. This manner was unconscious with Carl and was a decided cross to him. His more inti- mate friends sometimes laughingly referred to it, with wonder that he had upon closer acquaintance proved so different from their first impression of him. Carl, though immaculate in dress and self-respecting in character, was not one of the "holier than thou" people, but simply a good average citizen with de- 200 UNCLE CARL cided opinions as to his own duties and a courage of conviction that impelled him to live his life according to his lights, even if the people did fail to under- stand his inner self. He often tried to overcome what he thought an unfortunate manner, for he wanted to keep in close touch with humanity. But one cannot change the prim dignity of the poplar tree into the drooping grace of the willow, and the more Carl tried to unbend before strangers the more ap- parent were the poplar tree characteristics. Then, too, he was given to abstraction and would often pass friend after friend during one of his long walks with unseeing eyes, and this habit added to the im- pression of his exclusiveness. Most people like to know of the inner life of those with whom they come in contact; but Carl's manner seemed to forbid inti- macy to the casual acquaintance, and so in their en- deavor to understand him they often made guesses that were very wide of the mark. He further puz- zled those who met him by his knowledge of so many different branches of learning; conversing intelli- gently now on philosophy, now on mechanics, again on statecraft and kindred topics. His reading, cov- ering a large field, had been pursued with intelligence and purpose, and though not a specialist in any branch of knowledge, he had yet accumulated a fund that was much more than a smattering, and enabled him to draw nearer and nearer to the goal he had set for himself in literature. A lady of his acquaintance had been watching our friend as he passed her home on a slippery day in mid-winter. He strode on with his easy dignity as if dry sand were under his feet instead of glary ice. "I'd give ten dollars," she said, "to see Mr. Engle- wood slip and fall, just to see him lose his dignity UNCLE CARL 201 for once." And this was often the feeling of those who did not know him well. Those who did know him forgot the dignity of manner in their love for the dignity of soul. And yet, with those whom he admitted to close friendship, Carl could unbend and be as trifling in manner, as nonsensical in his fun as any one. He enjoyed a little nonsense occasionally, and with children especially he liked to throw aside the sober cares of life and be as young in action as were the children with whom he played. And we wonder what the lady we have mentioned would think if she could have seen Carl on the day after his arrival at Courtright's home. The lawyer had gone to the city immediately after the morning meal, and as Mrs. Courtright and Hattie Braton were busily engaged for the morning with household duties, Englewood and the children had gone forth to enjoy the delights of out-of-door life. First they had taken a stroll out to see the chickens and rabbits; to feed the swans, to visit the horses and cows, and, in short, to say good morning to all of the household pets ; and then, Englewood having finished his cigar, for it was one of that man's habits to enjoy what one of our great reformers has called the "connecting link be- tween a coal of fire and a fool," the children were ready for play; and Carl entered at once into their games with all the zest of a boy; and he thoroughly enjoyed it too. He played "hide and seek," and "duck on the rock." He jumped the rope which Ar- thur and Mary turned for him, and then little Bea- trice came dragging Arthur's cart, and it was "let's play horse." The children insisted on being the horses, and there was nothing for it but that Engle- wood must cramp his tall form into the little eigh- teen by twenty inch box, while they drew him with 202 UNCLE CARL great glee over the lawn. There on the velvety grass the play-horses became skittish and succeeded in over- turning cart and driver, and then they all three pounced upon him for a hilarious rough and tumble play; and the children's merry voices and Engle- wood's deep laughter made beautiful music that bright summer morning. Do you think, my reader, that Englewood really lost any dignity by these antics ? Do you respect him less, have less confidence in his character, because he could thus enter into the sports of childhood? We do not. We rather envy him, for we have known something of his sorrows his burdens and of his tenacious hold of principle through it all. We be- lieve in him and do not begrudge him the rest and renewed vigor that he gets from his hearty enjoyment of child-life. We believe that the world miscon- ceives, as a rule, the meaning of "dignity." True dignity is not, cannot be, artificial. But it is innate, part of one's soul. The greatest dignity is that which is nearest to Nature. It is purity, truth, sim- plicity, and strength. Whether a man rules a nation, or stops to pat on the head a poor, friendless, mongrel cur, true dignity is present if sincerity and love are the rulers of action; and there is not dignity no matter how stern, how austere, how perfect the artificial veneer of manner may be, if selfishness, servility, or cowardice in matters of principle rule the life. And so Mrs. Courtright and Hattie found the four children when, their house in order, they came out an hour later. "What do you think of that picture, little daugh- ter?" asked Mrs. Courtright, as, still some distance away, they saw the group. Englewood, on his back on the green sward, was apparently making strenu- UNCLE CARL 203 ous efforts to sit up while the two older children were exerting their puny strength to hold him down, and little Baby Beatrice, with Carl's hat pulled down over her ears, her chubby face full of mischief, was calmly seated across the victim's knees, while she shook a fat little finger at him "Now, oo be a dood boy, Uncle Tarl, else I san't let oo tiss me," she warned. "I think that it is beautiful," answered Hattie; "but I could never have believed Mr. Englewood could be like that. He has always seemed to me to be too full of care to lose himself in mirth." "Oh, the longer you know him the more of his many sides you will see," said the elder lady. "Hus- band and I have known him more or less intimately for some years, and, like Shakespeare's plays, in which we find something new every time we read them, there seems to be no end to the surprises he causes us. I can say this, too, that every unexpected thing he does seems to have something beautiful in it." "Don't you think that that is perhaps because it is he that does it?" suggested Hattie. "Most men would look somewhat ridiculous in his present atti- tude." Carl, on hands and knees, was now strug- gling to rise to his feet. "But somehow Mr. Engle- wood doesn't; I think it must be because one can't help believing in him. Sometimes I have felt, as I looked at him, that I wouldn't dare to speak to him ; but just as soon as he begins to talk to me I forget that, and only just believe him to be the truest man in the world." Englewood, just then catching sight of the ladies, straightened up and walked toward them with a child on either shoulder. "Welcome, ladies," he 204 UNCLE CARL said with mock gravity. "We are proud that you visit our nursery. We children have been having heaps of fun; haven't we, sweetheart?" "Ess, we has," lisped Beatrice; "but Uncle Tarl has been offul bad. He tipped ze cart over and dot all mussed up." "Well, well," laughed Mrs. Courtright, "you do look as if a cyclone had struck you. Is that the lat- est style of combing hair?" "Why, you awful boy," exclaimed Mary, "you sit right down while I fix you up!" And slipping to the ground, she led him to the lawn seat, and after searching his pockets for a comb, soon had his hair straightened out to her satisfaction. "There, children," said Mrs. Courtright, "now you little folks run away and play, and let Uncle Carl rest. He must be all tired out; besides, mamma and Aunt Hattie want to visit with him for awhile." And the children scampered off, while the three seated themselves under the shade of a large maple. The ladies had chosen to sit with Carl on the long garden seat where Mary had led him for the ton- sorial treatment; but that gentleman immediately arose, and bringing a rustic chair from a little dis- tance and placing it so that he could face the two, seated himself with the remark, "I can always enjoy my flowers better if they are where I can see them." "Is that what people call a 'jolly,' Mr. Engle- wood?" asked Hattie. "Yes, I think so jolly nice flowers," replied Carl. "Oh, slang! Mr. Englewood," said Mrs. Court- right. "I thought you never used it. Hattie, this man is always throwing bouquets at some one, but you mustn't believe half he says." UNCLE CARL 205 "Miss Braton," said Englewood, "every bouquet I throw in your direction you are to receive and en- joy if you can, for I try to put a flower of truth in every one of them. Our mutual friend slanders me." "I think," said Hattie, "that all flowers are beau- tiful, even if we do not deserve them; and if there is the fragrance of truth in them they are doubly ac- ceptable." "There, madam, are you sufficiently squelched?" said Carl. "Squelched? No," said Mrs. Courtright. "But I admit that flattery from you is much more accept- able than the constant criticism and suspicion that one hears so much from others." "Thanks," said Carl laconically, "I never flatter. I may be shallow, short-sighted, ignorant, but I think that no compliment that can be paid to a pure wo- man can be so exaggerated as to be in any sense flat- tery." "But to change the subject. I believe in having a thorough understanding when two or more are in- terested in any affair of importance, and we have one to discuss before I go South. We have here, Mrs. Courtright, a little flower that I found out West, and I think that we ought to decide where to plant it, and who the gardener shall be; and also I am yet in the dark as to just what kind of a flower it is." "Oh, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie, "you have been very kind, very generous, and so has mother," and she leaned toward Mrs. Courtright; "but I do not intend to be a burden upon either of you. Just as soon as I can get work, I must earn my own liv- ing." "There, there, dearie," said Mrs. Courtright. 206 UNCLE CARL "Don't you worry about being a burden. You are a lightener of burdens. It seems just as if a sun- beam had been added to our home life." "But still," said Carl, "it seems to me that it is right for Miss Braton to be independent if she can. Only, it is also right, if she has friends who are will- ing and able to give her a start, to accept their aid, that she may reach a field of higher endeavor and usefulness than she could without that aid. And this assistance is in no way to be considered a matter of charity; it is simply a loan to be returned when the fruit ripens. At any rate, we may discuss such aid, may we not, little girl?" "Why, of course you may," said Hattie. "But you have both been so kind already that I cannot thank you enough." "Now see here, Miss Braton," said Carl, "there is one thing I strongly object to, and that is verbal thanks for my selfish investments. If I am entitled to gratitude, let the life show that my judgment was not at fault; and I am repaid manyfold if I may sometimes enjoy the fragrance of a success I have helped to make possible. Never thank me again in such matters, please." "But, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie, "surely you are too much " "Hush! little daughter," said Mrs. Courtright, who knew Carl's peculiarities in such matters, "Mr. Englewood is just an old crank; he thinks he can throw all the bouquets and that we have no right to give him a single little violet. But he is really in earnest. Only, some time we will just smother him with posies and he won't be able to help himself. Just see if we don't." "Now, then," resumed Carl, "if I understand the UNCLE CARL 207 position, you want to start right out and earn money. But the question is, What can you do; what special work are you fitted for?" "I am afraid that I am not good for much," said Hattie despondently; "but I am willing to do any drudgery that is honorable." "Tut, tut, Hattie," said Mrs. Courtright, "don't talk about drudgery. Why, Mr. Englewood, she can play and sing beautifully. She is a splendid reader, and she can draw just splendidly. I'm sure we can find something better than drudgery, dear, if you must work." "Oh, I have always wanted to take up art!" ex- claimed Hattie; "but of course that is out of the question." "Why out of the question?" asked Carl. "What line of art appeals to you?" "Oh, sketching of all kinds has always had a fas- cination for me," replied Miss Braton. "Ever since I was a little girl I have loved to draw." "She has some beautiful pencil sketches," said Mrs. Courtright. "You must see them, for I am sure Hattie has exceptional talent in that direction." "If that be so," said Carl; "it is a talent that it may be wise to develop. I am not myself a very competent critic, but I should like to see some of your work. May I?" "Oh, I would be ashamed to show my bungling work to you, for I know that you can do so mutch better than " A recollection of some sketches of his and the circumstances which brought them about, caused Hattie to hesitate, and a flush suffused her face as she cast her eyes down. But for his sketches, where and what would she be now ! "Never be ashamed, Miss Braton, of your best, 208 UNCLE CARL because some one else has had better opportunities than you," said Englewood. "No one, no matter what his ability, can do better than his best; and if you do your best you are therefore equal to the greatest. I should really like to see your sketches, so trot along, little girl, and bring them out to me." And Hattie obediently walked to the house and soon returned with a portfolio of sketches and draw- ings. Crude, they were, for she had never received instructions in technique; but they certainly showed a marked natural talent, and Englewood looked them over with interest, while Hattie stood nervously by. Her heart had been in that work. They were little scenes of her child-life at school; the play- ground; some of the buildings; her room, and some crude attempts at portraiture. Having finished looking over the work, Engle- wood sat for some moments in meditation, finally saying: "It seems to me that there is marked ability here, but in need of training, of course. Perhaps some- thing can be made of it. But there is something else to consider first. As you are now, Miss Braton, pardon me, you are very ignorant. Should you try for work now you could but barely make a living, for the higher salaries are paid only to the specially competent. But you have in you, I believe, latent abilities that if developed would enable you to ac- complish much more in a pecuniary way, as well as to place you in a position of usefulness, of power, and of high influence in the world. As an artist you might succeed. But, for an artist to reach the best results, he must know much more than how to draw lines, or mix colors. He must have an education in various branches. History, philosophy, sociology, UNCLE CARL 209 botany, indeed all branches of knowledge are useful; not only to produce the highest type of the artist, but also to produce the highest and best type of charac- ter. Now, the first thing, it seems to me, is for you to complete your education, and if your talent as shown in these sketches meets with the approval of recognized judges, and I am sure that it will, then that ability also should be developed." "That is just what I think," said Mrs. Court- right, "and I am going to see that she gets an edu- cation." "Oh, you are!" ejaculated Englewood. "I sup- pose I have nothing to say about it, eh?" "But you dear friends are too good," said Hattie. "I could never accept such a sacrifice at your hands. You yourself, Mr. Englewood, told me that I would be independent." "So you will, so you will," chuckled Carl. "But you can't be independent until you pay us what you owe us; and you can't do that until you are able to earn more than a bare living. And you can't more than support yourself until you have had training. Now that sounds harsh, doesn't it, little girl! But I don't mean it so; I believe that, though the ex- pense will, of course, be considerable, you will more than repay us for the outlay, and we shall be more than glad for the privilege of advancing you in life.'; "Believe me, I am not ungrateful, but it doesn't seem right to me to take so much from you," said Hattie; "but I am so alone in the world that I don't know what to do. Oh, mother," she said im- pulsively, throwing herself in Mrs. Courtright's arms, "tell me what to do. I'll do just as you say." 14 210 UNCLE CARL "There, there, little girl. Don't you give way so," said the lady, gently patting her shoulder. "All is coming out just right, and you are not to worry one bit. You will have the education that you, I know, long for, and it is the privilege of love to do for you. You are to be as my own daughter, and I am going to see that you have what is right." "Now see here," said Englewood, "I don't want any fighting about this, but I don't propose to be left out of this work. I claim the right of discovery; not to own my find, but to take some part in its de- velopment." "But, Mr. Englewood," Mrs. Courtright ob- jected, "you have already done so much, and I know that you have other cares that must be heavy burdens to you. Why can't I do this thing?" "I'll tell you what I'll do," said Carl. "I'll leave this question for Miss Braton to decide. She is really the one most interested and should have a voice in the matter." "I am willing," said Mrs. Courtright, "for I am sure that she will let her adopted mother have her way in this matter," and she pressed the girl to her affectionately. "Well, how is it, little girl?" said Carl. "If a man finds a good book in an out of the way corner, with a tattered cover, and sends it to a friend to hold for him until he can have it rebound so that others may read and enjoy the volume without in- jury to or loss of its contents, has he not the right to complete his plans in spite of the friend's protests that he is so in love with the volume that he wants it himself?" "It is rather a hard position you put me in," said Hattie musingly; "but it seems to me, that if a per- UNCLE CARL 211 son transplants a young sapling from a swamp to the solid ground, it is his right to see that it has the nourishment it needs. Not that I choose between you," she added hastily, "for I am not sure that I do right to take from either of you. But I certainly think, as, had it not been for Mr. Englewood's kind- ness, I would not be here, his wishes should have more weight than those of any one else." "I knew that you would settle it right," said Englewood. "You see, Mrs. Courtright, this old sinner wins in spite of you." "Well, she's going to have her home with me, anyway," said Mrs. Courtright decidedly. "I'm glad of that," said Carl. "For, in truth, I could not do for her as you can. We will call it decided then in just this way, shall we not? Miss Braton is to make her home with you. After mature reflection her studies shall be decided upon, and she shall have every opportunity to acquire a finished education. Whatever expense is necessary outside of the home you offer, it is to be my privilege to meet." "Only with this exception, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie "I shall try to earn something myself, and whatever I can do to lighten your burden is to be my privilege, is it not?" "Your own highest good is to come first," said Carl, "and I shall not put you under any obligations to me that it is not your right to cancel. I only ask that the tree grow freely and strongly toward the Eternal Good." "Amen, my friend!" said Mrs. Courtright. "I believe that you are right. Only, I did want to do it all myself. CHAPTER XXI As Mr. Englewood purposed leaving on his Southern trip within two or three days, and as his absence would be of indefinite length, it was thought best to leave all details of Hattie's immediate future in the hands of Courtright and his wife; their judg- ment; to decide all matters in regard to the girl's edu- cation, Carl only stipulating that she be given every opportunity that she was able to improve. The con- versation then drifted on to other topics, and then slackened as each became absorbed in quiet enjoy- ment of the beautiful day. They were aroused by the scurry of feet as the children rushed toward them, Arthur holding the stem of a leaf of Virginia creeper^ "Oh, mama," he cried, "see what a funny worm. It's got rice stuck all over its back." "Ugh! take it away, Arthur," said Mrs. Court- right with a shudder. "It's one of those green ivy- worms. I can't bear such crawly things." "But, mama," chimed in Mary, "what does it do with the rice? It looks so funny." "I don't know, children. It's just a nasty green worm," said the lady. "Don't come near me with it. Do throw it away, child." Hattie, who had been looking at the curiosity, here remarked, "It is a strange looking creature. Did you ever see the like, Mr. Englewood?" Carl asked Arthur to bring it to him. It was the large green larvae of the Sphingoid moth; but at- tached to its back were perhaps fifty small white co- coons, looking as the children said like grains of UNCLE CARL 213 rice. After examining it Mr. Englewood answered, "Why, yes, this is a very interesting phenomenon. Come, children, and I'll give you a bit of curious in- formation." As they gathered about him he con- tinued, "You know how the butterflies come, of course?" "Yes," said Mary, "out of cocoons." "That's right, but there is more to it than that," said Carl. "First there is the egg which the mother butterfly lays. After a while it hatches out as a little grub or worm. This is called the larva. It grows rapidly, eating greedily its proper food, until when it has reached maturity it spins its little nest or cocoon, sealing itself up tight ; and then after a time it emerges as a beautiful butterfly. Not all species spin cocoons, however. Some kinds change into a chrysalis without the silky nest. Now this green worm its family has a queer name: Philampelus, or Vine-feeder is the larva from the egg of a large moth. It feeds on the vine until it is ready to change into a chrysalis, when it would de- velop into a moth, just as the butterfly's larva does. There is another form of life, however; a very small fly with a long name. I forget its name now, but it will come to me later, perhaps. This fly lays its eggs in the larva or worm. The eggs are very small and are deposited in the worm through a small needle- like projection at the end of the little fly, called the ovipo-siter. These eggs hatch out in the worm, as little white grubs, and feed inside of the big worm's body. In due time these grubs become strong enough to eat their way through the skin of the worm, though they are so small that they seldom kill it in so doing, and attaching themselves to its back spin their cocoons; and after about two weeks 2i 4 UNCLE CARL appear again as fully developed flies, like their mother. So these things that look like rice arc really cocoons. If you will take it to the house and put a glass tumbler over it, you may, if you watch it care- fully for a few days, see the little fellows come out of their nests. It is really a very interesting study." "Why, that is curious," said Mrs. Courtright, as, her repugnance overcome by her interest, she asked Arthur to bring the worm to her that she might examine it. "I have always had such a horror of crawling things, that I forget, sometimes, that they are a part of God's world. Yes, take it into the house, children, and put a glass over it. I shall be quite interested in watching it with you." As the children moved away, Arthur said, "I tell you, Mary, our Uncle Carl knows pretty near every- thing, doesn't he?" "Yes, siree," replied the little sister. "He's just the bestest, most knowingest chum ever was." The older ones laughed, Hattie remarking, "You have staunch little friends there, Mr. Englewood." "Yes, I think so," answered he, "and I am proud of it. The love of the little folk is very precious to me." "I almost think Arthur is right," said Mrs. Court- right, "and you 'know pretty near everything.' How did you ever pick up so much. You are con- stantly opening my eyes to things I never knew or suspected." "The study of biology was always an interesting one to me," replied Englewood, "and during my youth I was a somewhat superficial student of the Darwinian theory of evolution. Such forms of de- velopment as that we have just seen are not at all UNCLE CARL 215 uncommon. I could perhaps tell you some inter- esting things about insect life if you care to hear it." "Indeed we would," said both ladies in a breath; and Englewood held their attention closely for an hour discoursing on the various forms and habits of the lower life-forms. He was a good talker, and had the rare faculty of telling scientific truths in plain, simple language, that could be comprehended easily. At the same time, he avoided prosiness by vivid de- scriptions of unusual forms of development, and making the constant warfare which proved the right of the "fittest" to survive seem very real to his hearers; suggesting new lines of thought; stimu- lating interest in further researches in short, mak- ing his hearers think as well as to hear. And thus the morning passed. After the mid-day meal, En- glewood went to the city for a final talk with Court- right, ere he crossed the lake ; returning so late in the evening that he retired at once to his room. The next day was in much a repetition of his first one at Courtright's home, and on the second day his host returned, having accomplished all that he had gone for. "The sooner you get started the better, I think," he said to Englewood, after telling of his success. "I don't want to drive you away; indeed, I wish that you could see it right to make your home with us always; but I am suspicious of Stanhope. He has, I think, something up his sleeve, and the sooner this whole thing is straightened out the better. By the way, though, I have learned why he is in such haste to close up the estate." "Indeed; why is it?" asked Carl. "He is interested in the sale of the Pheasant mine, with Stuart. Not knowing just how much cash 216 UNCLE CARL would be required, and being short himself, Stuart took him in as a partner. Stanhope gave his note for $10,000 and Stuart discounted it to raise funds for the scheme ; and now, unless Stanhope raises the cash, Stuart as indorser must take up the paper and your fellow trustee will lose his interest. He is quite worried about it; but as he has not put up any cash himself, I shall not be at all sorry to see him barred out of the company." "Nor I either!" ejaculated Englewood. "Stuart gave me to understand that he had a partner, though I did not know who it was. But of course, with this estate in shape so that he cannot touch it for the present, Stanhope will have to look elsewhere for his cash. By George, though, Courtright! I am not, I think, unduly suspicious as a rule, but he must have been calculating on this estate before my ward's death. Could he have had any hand in that, do you think?" "You've struck it, Englewood," said the lawyer. "I didn't want to suggest it myself, but it is to clear this whole thing up that I so want you to hurry your journey. You know I think I told you that the autopsy showed the presence of arsenic; and that it was administered by the man or men with whom your ward was having her "good time" is strongly prob- able. I am impressed with the suspicion that they may have been tools of Stanhope's." "Could he possibly be such a fiend as that, do you think?" asked Carl. "I find it hard to believe it. Still, I'll start South to-morrow. Has he any sus- picion that I am still living?" "No, he feels assured of your death," Courtright replied. "However, it makes but little difference so far as I can see now, whether he knows the truth or UNCLE CARL 217 not. I didn't see Jenkins. Stanhope said he had gone to St. Louis; but I learned that he is, without question, the same man you so gently laid your hand on some years ago. It will do no harm to keep him in the dark for a while though. They may be less careful if they think that no interested eyes are watching them; and if there is any ground for our suspicions, I would take a great satisfaction in un- veiling their crookedness." "Well, we'll sift it to the bottom, anyhow," said Englewood. "I shall stop first at my ward's old school, and then make a bee-line for Florida." The two friends were sitting on the porch enjoy- ing their cigars as they were thus laying their plans, when they were startled by a scream from one of the children, and then Arthur's excited voice, calling, "Oh, mama, papa, come quick! Uncle Carl! Uncle Carl !" Rushing into the house and expecting that some catastrophe had occurred, they found the youngsters dancing with childish excitement around a table on which a glass cover was placed. Mrs. Courtright and Hattie rushed in at the same moment. "What is it?" they exclaimed. "What in the world is the matter?" "Oh, mama, the Flamplusse's cocoons is all breaking open, just as Uncle Carl said they would," cried Arthur. "Is that all?" said his mother. "My, what a start you gave me ! I thought you must have broken your neck, at least." "But, mother," said Hattie, who was looking through the glass, "this is interesting; they are really breaking their cocoons." All gathered about to watch the curious phenomenon. Many little flies were buzzing under the glass, the green larva ner- 2i 8 UNCLE CARL vously twitching his head from side to side as the insects irritated him ; and as they watched closely the end of a cocoon would be pushed aside, like a small cap, and out would crawl a fully developed fly. "Ah," said Englewood, straightening up, and throwing out his arm grandiloquently, "the name comes to me now. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing to you the illustrious Micro- gaster fly, of the family of Ichneumones adscite, or Braconidae." "Whew!" exclaimed Courtright, "that's a pretty heavy burden for so small an insect to bear. But what is all of this, anyhow?" "Why, papa," said Mary, "don't you know? This is a Flamplus, and he gets eggs laid in him and they turns into worms, and the worms turns into rice, I mean into cocoons, and then the what Uncle Carl interdooced us to, comes out. Ain't it funny?" They all laughed at this lucid explanation, and then Carl explained the phenomenon more at length to Courtright. The older people, finally leaving the children with their interesting discovery, strolled out over the fresh green lawn, where Carl, after musing a few moments asked: "Did it ever occur to you people to ask what is the ultimate purpose of the lower forms of life? Or rather, what is the ultimate thing that nature seeks to preserve in a given form ?" "I don't think that I understand you," said Court- right. "What are you driving at?" "Well, the interesting development we have been watching. Which is the individual? There is the egg, the larva, the fly, and again the egg; but what is the ultimate entity? We have life in other forms; UNCLE CARL 219 the plant produces the flower, the flower contains the seed, the seed the germ of a new plant. The pur- pose of each seems to be to provide for the contin- uance of the eternal routine. Each form of devel- opment is part of the whole, but as an individual entity, a finished entity, apparently non-existent. The grub, the butterfly, the egg; which is the entity, the thing, the real being?" "I am afraid you are asking questions that are unanswerable," said the lawyer, "though they never occurred to me before. Doubtless the Creator has a purpose to fulfill, but what that ultimate purpose is is not for our finite minds to discover." "An easy way to excuse our ignorance," said Carl; "but if we let all questions rest in that way there would be little progression. What I am trying to get at is, 'what is a thing?' Scientists speak of the propagation of species, but what is species? What is the real ultimate the germ that produces the plant, the plant that produces the flower, or the flower that produces the germ?" "Why confine yourself to plant life?" suggested Courtright. "You will find the same enigma in human life. Man's physical life is analogous to the plant life; he lives, brings forth young with power in their turn to continue the parent stock, and dies. Unless the intelligence of man is part of the Eternal Intelligence, implanted in the human frame as in a vehicle to carry out certain work, then man is no more an entity than the plant." "True," said Englewood, "and the intelligence of plant life and I can give instances tending to prove my inference seems to- be the same in kind, though of lesser degree than in man." "Oh, you men 1" said Mrs. Courtright. "You are 220 UNCLE CARL always wanting to know the unknowable. I have felt some of the thoughts you put in words, but what is the use of striving after knowledge that would do us no good if we attained it. When we search the Infinite for answers to such questions as you ask, we are lost as in a maze; and crying for light, are answered only by a greater longing. Yet that long- ing is softened by the intuitive parent-love which impels us to act our part in the continuance of our species. What the purpose, what the end, is sealed in the darkness of eternity, and our only torch is faith in the goodness of God. We wait for further light, but we cannot command it. Love bids us labor on, and through our children's eyes we may see the Wisdom of the Infinite." "Bravo! my dear; bravo!" said Courtright. "I hope you have squelched Englewood. He makes me feel very small when he philosophizes." "No, she hasn't squelched me," said Englewood; "but I am subdued by the very magnitude of the principles involved in even the simplest forms of life. You remember, do you not, the lines on a flower in Tennyson's "The Voice and the Peak"? "No, I do not recall them now," said Courtright. "What are they?" "I think that I know them," said Hattie shyly; "I have always thought them beautiful, and they mean so much," and in a low, sweet voice, she re- cited : " 'Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the cranny; I hold you here, root and all, in my hand Little flower, but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all I should know what God and man is.' " UNCLE CARL 221 They were all silent for a few moments, for Hat- tie's expressive rendition of the lines seemed to give a force to the words that all felt ; a force that com- pelled them to recognize their impotence in the face of the Eternal. Then said Carl: "And so the poet with one little word shows us the futility of our longing. 'If I could understand.' But I cannot, and therefore save as Hope and her hand-maiden Faith shall show me the way through the darkness, I must remain in ignorance until such time as Law shall say, 'Let there be light.' ' CHAPTER XXII Two days prior to Courtright's appearance before the probate court, as narrated in our last chapter, three men were seated about a table in a private "stall" of a saloon at Kaloma. They were the two scoundrels already known to our readers as Stanhope and Jenkins, and a vicious-looking man of some forty years. We shall not meet the latter again in this history, and therefore shall content ourself with simply describing him as one who carried in his face the marks of a life of villainy and dissipation. He was just finishing a recital of "the job," as we join their company: "And so the brat left, and started for home mad as a tarantula. But she had got her dose all right. I hung about until I heered she died a few hours after without givin' me away, and then I skee- daddled. I hear'n sence that the coroner cut her open an' found she hed be'n eatin' arsenic. Of course, it was a d d sight pleasanter fer me to vamoose, even if they didn't suspect me. So now it's up to you to fork over the swag." Stanhope drew a roll of bills from his pocket, and shoving it across the table said, "There's your stuff. I guess you did your job all right. But it would be just as well if you should turn up on the other side of the ocean just as quick as you can. There is no telling what the girl might have said to compromise you, and those Southern fellows are regular hounds when they get on the trail of a suspect. Of course, Englewood being out of the way, there is no one having enough interest in the matter to push it except UNCLE CARL 223 myself, and I shan't be very clever in finding the man who put my dear cousin to sleep. Still, its better to be on the safe side." "Oh, I'll make a sneak all right, all right. I'm goin' to take the Chicago boat to-night, and then it's back to the wild and wooly for yours truly. And now, pards, if 'tain't causin' you too much sorrer, I'll bid you adoo." So saying, he slouched out of the room. We will pause here to say that a man somewhat the worse for liquor was peering over the stern of a trans-lake steamer that night. There was a sudden cry of "Man overboard!" The steamer was stopped and boats were lowered, but no trace of the missing man was found; nor did the "pards" ever again hear of their fellow in crime. "Now, Jenkins," said Stanhope, after the villain's departure, "I received a letter from 'Liz' yesterday. She had just heard of the girl's death, and is crazy over it. Says the girl was her own daughter and she wants to know all about the affair; and also wants the body brought to St. Louis. Tells how she loved her child and all that nonsense. I want you to take the next train to St. Louis and fix things up. She tells me that if we don't restore the child's body to her, she'll go after it herself. You must prevent that at any cost; for if she goes down there in one of her tantrums she is liable to tell enough to get us all behind the bars." "Aw, h 1 ! I'll fix old Liz all right," said the worthy Jenkins. "I'll twist her round my little finger. You needn't worry a d d bit. Jest put up the dough, though. I ain't goin' without the stuff first." "I'm pretty hard pinched now, Jenkins," said 224 UNCLE CARL Stanhope. "That cursed Courtright has taken steps to secure a two month's delay in the probate court. I don't know what the whelp is so interested for. It's nothing in his pocket. However, it means a lot to me, for if I don't raise the money for Stuart within ten days I'll lose my interest in the mine; and he writes me that the deal is a sure go. Hang it all ! Just as it seemed all easy sailing, that infernal lawyer must put in his oar, and spoil the whole thing. However, I'll have a couple of hundred for you in the morning." "Now see here, Muster Stanhope," said Jenkins, "you'll make thet just five hundred, er I won't go, see. You've put all uv the dirty work on me, an' I hain't seen the color of your dough fer months. You're gitten thousands out uv it, er will w'en it's all fixed. I do the reeskiest part of it an' its time I seen some of the stuff." "But, Jenkins," replied Stanhope, "I'm pretty near broke; and unless I make that note good, I'll get nothing out of the mine." "Wull, the mine hain't cost you anythin' yet; an' as I don't git anythin' out uv ut anyhow, I don't see no cussed reason why I should help you out uv your scrape. You'll git the Cramer dough all right any- how, after a bit; 'nd I want somethin' now to sweeten the pot. I'll fix Liz if you fix me see?" "But, five hundred, Jenkins," pleaded Stanhope; "I don't see how I can raise it at once, and you ought to be on your way now." "Aw, h 1! you kin raise it if you want tuh," said Jenkins. "Sell some of them sparklers uv yourn, if ther hain't no other way. D n it, Stanhope, you kin afford it. If it hadn't been fur me, you'd a had Englewood here now." UNCLE CARL 225 "Englewood!" said Stanhope. "So you did have a hand in his death, did you?" "I don't say as I did, an' I don't say as I didn't," said Jenkins. "I seen him drop, an' 'twan't my fault that the cage wasn't strong 'nuff to lift the Aw, that's none uv your bizness anyhow ; I had a reason 'nuff for a grudge against the d d cuss." "See here, Jenkins," said Stanhope, "I had sus- picions that you had a hand in that affair. Now I am sure of it. But you and I have reason to hang together now. You know enough to make me a lot of trouble, but I suspect enough to hang you. It wouldn't pay either of us to split. Now I'll give you just two hundred dollars to fix Liz. When I succeed in getting what I am after I'll make it two thousand. But meanwhile I need your help, and you need my silence." "What the h 1 do yuh mean by that?" exclaimed Jenkins. "Yuh wouldn't dare to peach, would yuh?" "You've driven me to a corner," said Stanhope. "You'll do as I say or, yes, I'll peach. If Liz isn't silenced I'll get nothing from the estate, for she'll give the whole thing away, and then the court can tie up the whole estate, while searching for the real heir. I take it that Cramer's daughter has gone to the bad, and will never show up; but still, Court- right can compel a complete tieup of the estate for seven years, I think, is the limit of time that a person must remain unheard of before he can be declared legally dead. So you see it's as much to your interest as to mine that we work together for the present? "Wull, I don't know but what there's some reason in what yuh say," said Jenkins, as he thoughtfully ejected a stream of tobacco juice on the floor. "But, 15 226 UNCLE CARL cuss it ! ef yuh play me any dirty trick about what yuh suspect about Englewood, I'll see thet you git a dose of the sheriff's medicine, too." Having thus reached an agreement the two pro- ceeded to plan further details of their scheme; and then after a final bottle each went his way. CHAPTER XXIII The day is closing, and night with her star- bespangled mantle is hovering near a quiet little land- scape in western Florida, ready to enfold it in her solemn embrace when the crimson afterglow of the God of Day shall have faded from the horizon. The birds are chirping their good-night melodies; the drowsy hum of a belated bee or so is heard as he returns to his honey-home; while from the distance come the first notes of frog-dom as the master- croakers open their orchestral program; and, blend- ing through all, the murmuring sighs of the lazily lapping waves accentuate the peaceful harmonies of the holy hour. On a rustic seat, overlooking the blue waters of the Gulf, sat Carl Englewood and his old Sabbath-school friend, Mrs. Hazelton. Engle- wood had arrived in the early afternoon, and the two friends, after a luncheon, had adjourned to this at- tractive outlook. The information that had been given to Carl, both in Nashville and here, had been very painful to him ; for it had shown him much for which he could not, he thought, blame himself with sufficient severity. And now, as he sat brooding beside his quiet companion, the impressive chorus of approaching night seemed to insistently chide him for a failure in a manifest duty. The daughter of his old friend Cramer, left to his guardianship, was now, for aught he knew, a wanderer homeless and friendless. What had become of her it was im- possible to surmise. The matron of the school in which she had been placed by her father had seen her safely to the depot, and as the train was late had left 228 UNCLE CARL her to return to her interrupted duties, confident that the girl would be cared for by Mrs. Hazelton on her arrival. From the matron Carl had secured a small picture of his ward, taken with a group of her school associates; and she was described as a bright, pretty, clear-skinned little miss, with dark brown hair and eyes, and a winning, though somewhat independent manner. There was no question but what the girl whom Mrs. Hazelton had taken with her, and who had been placed in her charge by a man of uncouth man- ners whom she had thought to be an employee of the school, was not the girl described by the matron. Mrs. Hazelton was emphatic that the child she had taken was not the original of the picture Englewood had secured. She also described her as far from agreeing with the physical characteristics of Cramer's child, as described by the matron; being a pro- nounced blonde, blue eyes, auburn hair, and a badly freckled face. The terrible mistake was plain; but how to right it was not so clear. It was plain, too, that there had been some plot to effect this miscar- riage, and also that his plans must have been known to the plotter, in order to carry it out. As Engle- wood had informed only Mrs. Hazelton and Court- right of his intentions, it was difficult to connect Stan- hope with the affair; though, his suspicions now fully aroused, Carl believed it possible that, having per- haps overheard enough to conjecture the probable program, that scamp had had a hand in it. It was certain, however, that he must use every effort to find his ward, and he therefore purposed returning at once to Nashville, taking up the work from there. He dispatched a message to Courtright, which he would follow the next day with a letter containing UNCLE CARL 229 affidavits and particulars that could be used in pre- venting, for the present, the transfer of the property by the Probate Court. To a man like Englewood, ever striving to per- form his duties faithfully, the knowledge that his failure personally to see that his ward was cared for may have resulted in irretrievable disaster to the daughter of his old friend, was ground for most severe self-upbraidings. To be sure, he did what he thought best at the time, and considering that his financial condition had been far from easy, he had done well. Still, there were possibilities that he had not foreseen, details that he might have attended to ; and he was in a very despondent mood when Mrs. Hazelton interrupted his reverie. "Cheer up, my boy," she said. "One would think that you had lost your last friend. This has, indeed, been a most unfortunate affair, and one for which I consider that I am much to blame. Still it is not, I trust, irretrievable. And we shall yet find your ward, perhaps in a much better condition than you fear." "Of course, I shall find her; I must find her," said Carl. "How, when, or where, I don't know, but no stone shall be left unturned. But the finding of her cannot atone for my neglect. You are in no way to blame for the catastrophe ; I alone am responsible. If I seem despondent, it is not because I have any doubt as to whether I shall find my ward or not, but it is perhaps attributable to a more selfish considera- tion. Possibly, I needed this severe jolt, for it has awakened me to the consciousness of a growing self- conceit for which I have no good foundation. I think that I have been taking a very unworthy pride in myself. Have been unconsciously praising myself 230 UNCLE CARL to myself as one who always does his duty well ; and here I find that I have been inexcusably remiss in a most important duty, and in a way that may have resulted in a deep injury to a helpless little girl. I cannot condemn myself sufficiently." "Oh, but you can, and you do; more than suffi- ciently," said the lady. At the time, you did the best you could according to your knowledge. It is unfortunate that you did not know more, but I do not see that you should feel more than a keen regret at the misfortune. Have you any idea as to whose child it may have been that lies buried over yonder?" "No," said Englewood, "but that must be my first work. To find where the child came from is to find those who can place me on the track of my ward. I shall employ the most competent detectives I can find, and hope quickly to trace the poor girl." "Perhaps the dead girl's people are here now, Carl," said Mrs. Hazelton. "Yesterday a woman, who has evidently lived a very hard life, approached me on the beach and made some very pointed in- quiries about Hattie. I gave her such particulars as were not of a private nature, and she was very much agitated when she learned that Hattie had died of arsenical poisoning." "Did she give any reason for her interest?" asked Carl. "None, save that she had known Hattie in Nash- ville," replied Mrs. Hazelton. "She wanted to know where the body lay, and asked if it would be removed to the North. Of course I could give her no information on that point, as I did not know your plans. She showed considerable anxiety, more by her manner than in words, and I incline to the belief UNCLE CARL 231 that she might be able to give you some light in re- gard to the matter of Hattie's parentage." "Certainly I should see this woman," said Carl. "Do you know where she can be found?" "She said she would probably be here for three or four days," answered the lady, "and that she might see me again. But I did not ask her where she was stopping." "I'll hunt her up to-morrow," said Carl. "But what a fiend Hattie must have been with that last night. To poison the poor girl ! For what possible object! Oh, I hate to harbor such suspicions; but, do you know my fellow-trustee, Stanhope?" "No," said his companion, "I have never met him, though I have heard some things to his dis- credit." "I have reason to believe that he is a thorough scoundrel," said Englewood; "and though I shudder to think that he could do such a dastardly thing as has been done here, yet, he is, as far as I know, the only one who could profit by it. He is, in case of the death of my ward, the heir-at-law to the Cramer estate, and at this time is so heavily involved that the cash in bank would be a great lift to him. Still, I cannot see, I cannot believe Oh, Heavens! I can't think clearly; all is a muddle. Let's walk," and abruptly rising Englewood began pacing ner- vously up and down the green sward. Mrs. Hazel- ton watched him quietly for a few moments, and then going up to him put her arm through his, and turned him toward the house. "You poor boy!" she said, "you are tired out with your long journey, and your nerves are getting the better of you. Now you are to come in and lie down while your old friend plays mother to you. Yes, 232 UNCLE CARL yes," as Englewood objected, "you must. Just for a little while, I am going to be boss; and if you be- have real nice perhaps we will take a little walk later; but now I order you to come in and be cared for." The lady won, as ladies generally did with Carl, and soon he was ensconced on a sofa in Mrs. Hazel- ton's parlor, and she was leading his thoughts away from his present troubles, back to the old time when, as a child, he had gone to his Sabbath-school teacher with his hopes and fears, his plans and ambitions. Ere long he grew quiet, and then she began singing softly the old songs that he had loved in his boy- hood. Old "Coronation," and "Denis," and "Anti- och." As the familiar notes came from the lips that had so often soothed and comforted him in his child- hood, Carl's eyelids slowly drooped. " 'Here bring your wounded hearts, Here tell your anguish, Earth has no sorrow That Heaven cannot heal.' " Faintly, sweetly the sounds stole upon his dulling senses, and he slept. Englewood awakened with a start, to find himself alone. A bright moon was shining through the win- dow; a strange, southern-odor of flowers unknown were sent by a gentle breeze to greet him; a night- bird sang a clear call to its mate, and from the dis- tance he heard the ceaseless murmur of the ever- restless waves. Putting aside a light shawl which had been laid over his shoulders, Carl stepped out on the porch, where Mrs. Hazelhurst greeted him. UNCLE CARL 233 "There, sir," said she, "don't you feel better now? When we old ladies can have our way we generally succeed in making you self-willed men learn the value of rest." "Indeed I do feel more like a man," answered Englewood. "I was not very polite, was I, to fall asleep when you were so kindly entertaining me? But what a glorious night ! Is it too late, think you, for a stroll?" "It is not very late," said Mrs. Hazelton; "about half after nine, I think. Suppose we stroll along the beach." And the two friends passed out under the palm trees that stretched in stately rows almost to the water's edge. Neither was inclined for conversation, and they walked quietly on beside the waters, drink- ing in the beauty of the night, each engrossed in thought. Some time had passed in silence when, as they were passing a group of large boulders, their atten- tion was attracted by the voices of a couple, a woman and a man, who were seated on the stones, their backs toward our friends. The man was speaking. "But I tell you, Liz, it ain't safe to do it. Stan- hope specially said that you wuz to keep away from here. Mebbe some time, w'en this here d d sus- picion has blowed over, we kin take the girl's body up; but jest now the resk is too great." "But I don't see why," said the woman. "You say Mr. Englewood's dead, poor man, so he'll make no trouble ; and I am sure that the lady, if she knew that it was my girl that was buried, would let me have the body." "H 1, Liz ! Don't ye ever mention that to her," said the man. "It would git us into no end of 234 UNCLE CARL a muss. Of course, that cursed Englewood can't stick his nose in ag'in, but there's others thet " Suddenly the man stopped talking; and the woman, turning, exclaimed, "Why, Jenkins ! What's the matter, Jenkins?" But the man had risen to his feet, shaking as if with the palsy; his face, ghastly in the moonlight, was distorted with fear; his eyes seemed starting from their sockets as, with fallen jaw, he stared, horror in every lineament, at a tall gentleman who stood motionless before them, looking fixedly at the man. Hours or seconds Jenkins could never have told which the two stood there, and then with a horrible screech, the scoundrel fled up the beach, crying, "It's Englewood's ghost! It's Englewood's ghost! Don't let it follow me!" and, yelling like a maniac, disappeared in the distance. These actions can hardly be wondered at. Jen- kins, like most villains, especially the very ignorant, was intensely superstitious. He had, he thought, seen Englewood fall a distance that no man could fall and live. He believed him to be dead without the slightest doubt; and now, at the very moment when his murderer as he believed himself to be was coupling Carl's name with a curse, to have his form appear, was to believe that the spirit of the departed had come for vengeance. For the time be- ing Jenkins was indeed crazed. Rushing blindly on, ever and anon casting fearsome glances over his shoulder to see if he was followed, he reached a small village some two or three miles distant. Dash- ing down the quay, he leaped into a small boat, and frenziedly pulling at the oars was soon a goodly dis- tance out upon the waters. Caring for nothing, thinking of nothing, but that he must get away from UNCLE CARL 235 that terrible apparition, he rowed recklessly on and on; and then in his frenzy he crashed against the side of a large, black mass, capsizing his boat, and with a cry of utter despair he sank beneath the waves. The cry was heard by the watch of the ves- sel a sailing-craft bound on a trading cruise to the south seas. A boat was at once lowered and the wretch was soon aboard the craft, and an involun- tary passenger on his way to strange lands. It will be years ere he again returns to his old haunts; and we will leave him to journey on while we return to the little group he had left so suddenly behind him. Watching rather contemptuously the fleeing vil- lain until he disappeared in the distance, Englewood turned toward the woman, who shrank back as he advanced. "Don't be afraid, madam," he said; "I am not a ghost, but good solid flesh and blood." "But, sir," asked the woman, "are you really the Mr. Englewood who is dead?" "Well, no, not the one who is dead," said Carl, "but the one whom your companion thought he had killed a month ago." "Oh, he didn't try to do that, did he, sir?" asked the woman. "He told me that he saw you fall down a shaft; but he couldn't have done it himself, could he, sir?" "I'm afraid that he did try it, but good fortune saved me from the fall. Jenkins left too hurriedly to learn the result of his attempt," said Carl. "But let us change the subject. I overheard enough of your conversation to learn that you believe that the child I thought to be my ward was in reality your own daughter. I want to know more particularly in regard to it." 236 UNCLE CARL "Oh, but I don't dare to tell you about it, sir," she replied. "Jenkins says as how it would put Mr. Stanhope in a lot of trouble, and he'd kill me if he knew I said anything about it." Mrs. Hazelton, who had remained in the background, now advanced, and taking the woman's hand said: "Be afraid of nothing. A mother has a right to her child, and if you can show your right, the poor remains shall be at your disposal. This, Mr. Engle- wood, is the woman I told you of as having inquired so earnestly about Hattie." "Oh, she was she was my own little girl," said the woman, sobbing; "and I thought I was doing what was best for her, so that she wouldn't grow up a sinner like her mother. But they killed her, so they did, and I shan't ever see her again !" "My poor woman," said Mrs. Hazelton, "I don't know your story, but you have suffered justly or unjustly; and I want to be a friend to you. Our home is but a little distance off. Won't you come there with us? We will talk it over, and if you care to tell us the whole story we may be able to help you, as well as to further the cause of justice in another quarter." "Oh, ma'am, I ain't fit to come to your house," said the woman; "I am too low down for you to make up with." "No one who suffers is too low down for sympathy and help," said Mrs. Hazelton, as she put her arm about the woman's waist and urged her to walk. "I think that is the best thing to do," said Engle- wood. "And I can assure this poor woman that if she can see her way to help to right a great wrong, no harm shall come to her for her part in it." Yielding at length to their united persuasion the UNCLE CARL 237 woman consented to accompany the two friends. And there, in Mrs. Hazelton's home, she told her story. Lizzie Harding in her girlhood had been some- what headstrong. Her parents, of the well-to-do- tradesman class, had humored her whims until, as she neared her later teens, she was almost beyond their control. Rather pretty, she attracted many of the young men of her class. A lover of pleasure, and wayward, though without thought of the grosser sins, she was often recklessly daring in ignor- ing the conventionalities of life. One came at last to whom she gave her heart; and he, taking ad- vantage of her innocent indiscretions, became the father of her child, and then deserted her without giving his offspring the protection of his name. From that time the girl shunned by her old as- sociates descended low and lower, until she became the proprietress of a house of ill-resort. She kept her child with her, however, lavishing upon the girl a strong mother-love ; and it was with the hope that she might some time be able to give the child a pure home, that she kept her from contact with the fre- quenters of her house ; though the girl early showed a viciousness and deceit doubtless inherited in great measure from both parents. When the daughter was about fourteen years old, Jenkins, who had been an "agent" for the mother's house, came down from Michigan with a proposi- tion. His employer, Mr. Stanhope, was, barring one, the heir to a considerable estate. It was his purpose to lose that one; and he proposed that, as her guardian had never seen his ward, Miss Hard- ing's child should be substituted for Hattie Cramer. The two girls were so utterly unlike in appearance 2 3 8 UNCLE CARL that, after a sufficient lapse of time, during which the real heir should be so utterly lost as never to be found again, it could be easily proven that a "mis- take" had been made, and with due legal procedure Stanhope would secure the property. He offered to pay a goodly sum of money for the "loan" of the girl, and would guarantee that no harm should come to either of them. Lizzie Harding was not a bad woman at heart; but she was tempted to accept the proposal for her child's sake. The girl would be given a good home and would be educated. The money consideration would enable them to live a life of respectability and the child would be freed from the shadow of the mother's sins. After most solemn promises that no real harm save the loss of her property should befall the rightful heir, Miss Harding consented to the plan. In this decision she was influenced in no small measure by the belief that Stanhope was determined to accomplish his design, and that if she did not profit by it some one else would. By a fortunate combination of circumstances the exchange was made at the depot without arousing suspicions, and Jenkins went West with Miss Cramer, while the daughter of the unhappy mother was taken to Florida by Mrs. Hazelton. The woman had no suspicion of the real danger to which she might be subjecting her daughter, until after her death, and the result of the autopsy. She had no proof of foul play; but she believed that Stanhope, desirous of getting control of the Cramer estate, might have planned from the first the death of the reputed heir, while he would shrink from being in- strumental in taking the life of one of his own blood. UNCLE CARL 239 From things Jenkins had said she believed that it was through the agency of one of Stanhope's tools that the poison had been administered. She had no evidence to that effect, however. She did not know what had become of Miss Cramer, though Jenkins said that he knew where she was, and that she would never return. This, in brief, was the story of Lizzie Harding; and in corroboration of it she evinced intimate knowl- edge of the dead girl's characteristics, producing also a photograph which Mrs. Hazelton instantly recog- nized as of Hattie. Assuring Miss Harding of protection and assist- ance, Mrs. Hazelton persuaded the woman to remain with them until the next morning; and having shown her to a spare room, the two friends sat long, dis- cussing the information that had been revealed to them. The first work, of course, must be to find Jenkins, and from him learn the whereabouts of Carl's ward. This Englewood would undertake in the morning; but as the reader will readily understand, utter fail- ure would reward his efforts in that direction. The ends of justice must be served also, but care must be taken that there should be no miscarriage of it; and as yet they had no evidence connecting Stan- hope with the crime that would be received as con- clusive in a court of law; though there was ample ground for belief that the daughter of Cramer, and heir to his estate, was still alive. Until absolute proof of her death or, failing that, the lapse of seven years, which under the Michigan statutes must pass after complete disappearance before the court could pronounce a legatee legally dead, the property must be held intact. Thus it was practically certain that 240 UNCLE CARL the schemes of the villainous trustee must fail of fruition for the present at least. Meanwhile, it could be reasonably expected that not only would Hattie Cramer be found and restored to her own, but also sufficient evidence produced to further the punishment of the guilty ones. Englewood was much averse to this latter. His whole nature re- volted at the duty; for duty he conceived it to be. His creed was to build up rather than to pull down, and he would have much preferred to use his in- fluence toward turning the villains from their evil courses, than toward their forcible punishment. Nevertheless, his duty was plain. The law must be enforced; not so much for the punishment of crim- inals as to act as a deterrent to others evilly in- clined. "An eye for an eye" is a poor principle, if its only object is to punish a criminal. But if the certainty of a penalty to follow deters others from the com- mission of like crimes, and thus subserves the wel- fare and safety of the people, then the principle is not without favorable argument. And so, much as he disliked the role of detective, Englewood deemed it his duty to his fellows to bring the criminals before the bar of justice if possible. CHAPTER XXIV Another day had passed. Since early morning Englewood had been searching for Jenkins. He had employed the police, and left no gate unopened that might lead to knowledge of that scamp, but without success. The man had disappeared as completely and left as little trace behind as would a fish swim- ming from a small stream into the broad ocean. De- termined to find him, all of the machinery at com- mand had been put in motion; outgoing trains were closely watched, surrounding towns notified, and everything done that could be done to intercept the man who could reveal the whereabouts of the true Hattie Cramer; and now, weary and despondent, our friend sat on the porch of Mrs. Hazelton's home. That lady, too, had been at work during the day; but in a different line and with better success than had met Carl's efforts. "I have a genuine sorrow," said she, "for the life- failures of my sex; and that poor wretched mother, coming to us for the remains of her child, appeals to me strongly. She had, originally, the making of an energetic, good woman; but her early training was not of the kind that makes for righteousness, and instead of the upward growth she became the sin- ner you know of. But I feel confident that the germs of the good are still living; dormant perhaps, but yet with enough of life to grow and bear fruit. I have been talking with her to-day, and though she will make me no promises as to her future course, she has agreed to remain with me for a few days, 16 242 UNCLE CARL and I hope yet to win her for the Father's King- dom." "Good, good!" exclaimed Englewood. "If any one can help the poor sinner, I am sure that you can and will." "With the Master's help, I can save her," said Mrs. Hazelton devoutly. "The Master's? Yes, I know that to you all of the praise and the glory belong to your God," said Carl. "Whether or not that be so, I am glad that your heart of gold shall be the medium through which another wretched one shall see light." "You poor boy," responded she, "have you never yet been able to settle that question? I remember that, when you were having your childhood trials, and doubt and uncertainty seemed to cloud every- thing that our religion taught of God, you were yet so earnest and truthful that I had no doubt but that you would find the light. Surely you believe in Christ's divinity?" "Yes, my friend, I do," said Carl, "but not as you do. Religion is something that I rarely discuss, save to give or to receive light; for I have found that between those who have settled views it is not only useless, but tends to create heart-burnings, anger, estrangement. In metaphysics, faith rules ; proof or absolute knowledge does not exist. But I will say this I believe that Christ was divine in the sense that the great Emerson conceived Him. In his ad- dress before the senior class in Divinity College in 1838, he said: 'Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with open eye the mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, ravished with its beauty, he lived in it, and had his UNCLE CARL 243 being there. Alone in all history he estimated the greatness of man. One man was true to what is in you and me. He saw that God incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth anew to take posses- sion of his World. He said, in this jubilee of sub- lime emotion, "I am divine. Through me, God acts; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me; or see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think." "* "Thus you see, my friend, I believe in the divinity of Christ, but only in the sense in which you and / are divine. Nature is part of God, if not God himself; and so we are all divine even as Christ was." "But, Carl, that is not right," expostulated his friend. "Why, if that be so, the very stones under our feet are divine, for they are part of Nature ; and surely you would not advocate the worship of pebbles." "Of course, they are divine," replied Englewood. "But no, I would not advocate their worship, as stones. But the great truths, the eternal laws that formed out of chaos the worlds and systems of worlds, I would worship if in tangible form. The law of love, which is to you the law of God, is exist- ent now as it was in the beginning. To you it may be a sentiment, or a truth which you worship as rep- resented in semi-tangible form in your conception of the God-head. To me it is a principle. The attrac- tion of atom for atom which caused the drawing closer and closer together of the nebulous mass until it was in the compact form of a world, is the same principle that has brought still closer together par- ticles of the world itself, to form minerals, crystals, plants and animals. It is the same principle that causes a comparatively small aggregation of atoms to * Address delivered before the Senior class in Divinity College, Cambridge, Sunday evening, July 15, 1838- 244 UNCLE CARL be attracted to a similar aggregation of atoms, until they unite as lovers in marriage. And that same principle then overflows and is continued in the off- spring from generation to generation. Love is a great eternal Truth, as well exemplified in the little pebble as in any other thing. A force that is found in all things, animate and inanimate; in the spiritual, the intellectual, and the material. And that principle is worthy of worship, for it means life itself. You say 'God is love'; to me Love is God." "Why, Carl Englewood!" said Mrs. Hazelton, "you surprise me. Your thoughts are altogether new to me. Not that they change my faith at all." "I would not have discussed such a question," said Carl, "if I had not known you to be firmly grounded in your beliefs." "I can well believe that," said she; "but, my boy, you haven't got the real kernel of the nut yet. Your conception of Love is beautiful, but cold unless you give it personality. Love as a principle of natural law is grand, but love as God a person a being who in His arms enfolds all humanity with conscious purpose, surely that is the only true, complete con- ception." "I cannot say that it is not the only true, complete conception, for I do not know," replied Englewood. "That is in the realm of metaphysical speculation, for which there is no proof save faith. It is not my conception, however. I have not been able to con- ceive of a personal Deity, nor is it necessary for my happiness to do so." "But, Carl, surely you believe in immortality, don't you?" asked she. "Yes; but that also is a belief circumscribed by doubt as to whether or not the immortality shall be UNCLE CARL 245 of a conscious Ego. My influence, which comes from my real self, shall be eternity long in its effects ; of that immortality I am sure. But I only pain you, without any good to follow by talking on this sub- ject. Let it suffice to say, that to me now, as when I was a member of your Sabbath-school class, truth is the imperial virtue. I cannot force my belief; I do not think that I have any right to force it, even if possible. Sincerity I conceive to be the first duty of man. I therefore have, to the best of my ability, solved these problems. So far as I have gone my foundation is firm as a rock. Upon that foundation I am erecting my life structure. The materials I am using are the best that my conception of truth can give me. My finished building may be but a poor house, but it will be a true one as I see the truth. If I could add to it the "cross and crown" it might be more imposing, I might be happier in it, but that ad- dition shall never be made unless I can clearly see the material to shape it from in my garden of Truth." "Oh, I am so sorry, my friend," said Mrs. Hazel- ton. "We need you in the Lord's vineyard. I have no doubts of you, nor of your future; for some time, I feel sure, the true light will come to you. The cross and the crown shall yet be yours. But, I con- fess to a fear as to your influence. When a good man, a pure man, holds such opinions as you do, he can hardly help drawing others away from their old beliefs. Your beliefs are sufficient for you, you think. But they are not sufficient for the world. The world needs the Master that you reject. And many, if they had your lack of faith in immortality, would feel themselves justified in saying, 'If this is the only life we are to lead, let us get all out of it that we can.' 246 UNCLE CARL With the result that pleasure-seeking, license, crime, and utter selfishness would rule their lives." "That is rather a hard arraignment of my in- fluence," said Carl sadly. "But I hardly think that you need fear such dire results. I do not spread my infidelity broadcast, for I, too, realize that what is sufficient for me may not be for the multitude. But if others take my attitude as a model I doubt if many do and make my belief the standard for action, license cannot be their rule. Physical pleas- ures are not the highest form of enjoyment. You say that if we deny a future state of bliss we may as well get all of the enjoyment that we can get out of this life, and you say well. You speak truth. But if one is wise he will know that the highest enjoy- ment, the greatest happiness, springs from the con- quest of Truth, the triumph of the mental, the up- building of the intellectual and the moral character. Live for to-day if he will, but let the day be filled with intelligent effort to realize the ideal of purity, truth, unselfishness for therein is the greatest hap- piness here; and if we are indeed immortal, here- after, also. One great reason why humanity falls so very far short of the ideal is that it is very far from realizing what the highest happiness is, and how it may be compassed. Men are prone to the selfish idea that the possession of wealth or power, or the pandering to purely physical or sensuous tastes and pleasures, constitutes happiness ; but they are much very much mistaken. Men often sacrifice their truth, their conscience, their honor, to gain a few fleeting hours of pleasure, and think that they are courting happiness. But he only has some faint con- ception of real happiness who has made some earnest, unselfish sacrifice of his own comfort that another, UNCLE CARL 247 or others, may have an increased allotment of sun- shine. So that if my belief be followed by any one as a model, I must hope that you are wrong, and that license would not prevail as a natural consequence. A man may be a good man, a true man, though he be an atheist. But don't misunderstand me. I am not posing as a model man. I have my ideals, as who has not? But though I endeavor to draw some- what nearer to them day by day, I realize but too well that I fall far short of them. The best I can do, the best that any one can do, is constantly to strive to get in closer touch with the good." "Oh, I am not such a bigot but that I can believe that a man may be good," said Mrs. Hazelton, "even if without the Divine light, or a belief in a personal God. I believe you to be an honest and a good man. I know that you are; but you are one in ten thou- sand, the rest need the spiritual leadership of the Master; and I cannot but think that when your views are expressed you disturb the very foundation of society. Your views are much the same in effect, as we teach, but are incomplete without God's leader- ship. You would take away that leadership without giving anything in place of it, and I fear are thus doing a great wrong to the world. I think that you should not do this." "Perhaps you are right, but I cannot think so now," responded Carl. "First, I do not spread my agnosticism broadcast, for I am well aware that minds that have been for generations accustomed to placing their burdens on spiritual shoulders are hardly strong enough to bear them themselves. People who have been taught to live uprightly be- cause of the eternal personal reward for well-doing, and to abstain from evil-doing for fear of judg- 248 UNCLE CARL ment, could hardly accept my doctrine with safety to the people, without due preparation; and if the hopes and fears of a future eternity were suddenly lost they might well be expected to let their selfish tendencies have full play, and get all the pleasure they could out of this life. Therefore, and also be- cause I do not like to express my views on sacred things where they are not understood, I seldom speak of religion to my fellows. But when you speak as if I were doing a wrong when I do talk to the truth- seeker of these things, because I cannot point out the true road, I think that you err. When a traveler, seeking a distant city, has gone far on a road and, feeling convinced that it will not lead to the goal, re- turns to his starting-point to find that several others, wishing for the same destination, are starting out on the same road that he has traveled, would he not be doing less than his duty if he failed to tell them, 'This is not the true path; I am unable to tell you which road to travel, but I am sure that this is not the right one' ? "My friend, I have studied this question deeply, earnestly, and have reached my decision after much sorrow. How then can you say that I do wrong to speak of my views because, having proven to my satisfaction that the road I had traveled does not lead to the light, I am yet unable to direct the search- ers to the right road?" "But, Carl," said his friend, "others have traveled that same road and have seen the light. Is not their testimony as worthy of credence as your own? Per- haps they have been given the keener vision, or they may have traveled farther on the road that you did." "Answer me, truly," said Englewood, "have not UNCLE CARL 249 all of those who you say have given testimony that they have seen the light, so far as you know, seen it only with the eyes of faith?" "Yes; a faith that can remove mountains and see the gates of the beautiful city beyond?" answered Mrs. Hazelton. "Then," said Carl, "I would let them travel on their road, for they have their light, but it is an inner one; whether the light of truth or of senti- ment matters not if it suffices them for their jour- ney, and I would not destroy it. But there are thou- sands who have not that faith and who are striving earnestly for truth. Am I not recreant to my duty if I withhold from these seekers the knowledge that I have gained in my own search, giving them such strength and encouragement as I may; influencing them toward uprightness and purity and well-doing, even if I cannot hold before them the promise of 'everlasting glory' for well-doing, instead of the self- reward of virtue? "But you and I cannot agree on such a topic. We each feel the strength of inner conviction, and each is honest. I would not disturb your faith, you cannot disturb what some would call my self-sufficiency. I shall hope to meet you and many other friends, 'be- yond the sunrise' ; but meanwhile my work here shall be done for itself alone, and not because of any re- liance on that hope." "You poor boy!" said Mrs. Hazelton. "You can't be different from what you are, can you ? But, I don't know but what it is best so. As my people need the Master, so does the world need strong, courageous, good men, no matter what their creed. For the work of Satan is vigorous, and your prin- 250 UNCLE CARL ciples combat him as surely as do ours, and in ways that we could not pursue." "I think that you and I are not far apart in prin- ciple," said Englewood. "We agree on the moral truths. That you believe in a personal Diety while I am not prepared to acknowledge God in that form, in no way interferes with our conception of individual responsibility. The work, the duty that we owe to humanity in this life, is clear to each. In that work, however, we differ in one detail. To me, it seems that you, and people of like creed, lay too much stress on the effect on an eternal personal life, of the work done in this life; while I am a firm believer in the education and enlightenment of the individual in this life to the importance of doing good for its own sake; that right thinking and right living carries with it the only happiness both for self and others that is worth seeking. Living for to-day, or for time, we may well let the 'things of to-morrow' or eter- nity 'take care of to-morrow.' It is clear to me that if the work of to-day is well done, the mere matter of belief or faith in a personal God shall in no way alter our condition in the eternal 'to-mor- row.' ' "That is putting a new construction, to me, on that passage, 'let the things of to-morrow take care of to- morrow,' " replied Mrs. Hazelton. "But though I am loth to disagree with you on such a point, I can- not see it as you do. I have long lived in the belief that the rejection of the gospel, the denial of Christ's divinity, shall meet with the eternal condemnation. I am satisfied that in all things else you shall meet with the 'Well done, good and faithful servant' ; and my faith is that strong that I am sure that, ere the Reaper comes for you, the light of the real Truth, UNCLE CARL 251 the Saviour's love, shall be known to you, and shall crown your life's work with God's glory. I have no fear for your future, and am content to leave all in the hands of 'Him that doeth all things well.' " CHAPTER XXV For a week Englewood searched diligently for the vanished Jenkins. But his combined efforts, with the police and the detectives, availed nothing, and he de- cided to leave them on the lookout there, while he would endeavor to trace his ward by the medium of such slight information as Lizzie Harding had been able to give. That was meagre enough. All that she knew had been gathered from chance remarks of Jenkins, and was to the effect that he had known of her having secured a position as maid in a boarding- house in Salt Lake or Ogden, she was not sure which. There was a possibility, however, that by advertising and the services of the detective agencies, together with the offer of a liberal reward, he might find the deserted girl. It was his purpose to first return to Michigan and, producing his proofs of the crime that had been committed, secure the property from viola- tion, and then take up the search. The Harding woman had been induced by Mrs. Hazelton to remain, for a time at least, in Florida. The good woman had strong hopes, and Carl had no doubts, of the results to follow; and neither were disappointed, for under the Christian woman's min- istrations the forlorn sinner, for the first time since the beginning of her wayward life knowing a pure, disinterested friend, began to see the light that might be, the darkness that had been, in their true contrast. She secured a cottage near Mrs. Hazelton's house and, living in daily contact with that lady's pure life and helpful friendship, she out of every shame began to live the life of the pure. And to her surprise she UNCLE CARL 253 found it an easy thing to do. Thoughts of the old associates and occupations drifted farther and farther from her. Through Mrs. Hazelton's efforts she se- cured employment, clean independence, and then be- gan to feel the influence of the ever-present but un- obtrusive Christ as He "knocked at the door." And she grew in strength day by day until, in the future, she should become a worker in the vineyard to Mrs. Hazelton, a triumph of God's redeeming love; to Carl, the triumph of principle, the proof that the germ of virtue, if placed in the right soil where its appropriate nourishment abounds, shall grow, and expand into a beautiful plant. He believed that in every person is implanted the germs of great good as well as of great evil. If either be nourished, it must be largely at the expense of the other. With Lizzie Harding the evil germs had had most nourishment in her youth, and the resultant growth left but little room for virtue. But under the fostering care of an- other gardener the germs of good were given a chance to grow, and in the end proved so much stronger that their life choked utterly the ugly weeds of sin and shame. And now we will leave the two women to their work, while we follow Carl on his journey North. His first objective point was Chicago, where he held a consultation with his friend Courtright. By the lawyer's advice he decided not only to make no charge against Stanhope, but not even to suggest to him that there was any suspicion that he had had a hand in the disappearance of Hattie Cramer. There was ample evidence, supported by affidavits of Mrs. Hazelton and Hattie's old school mistress, to prove to the satisfaction of the court that the girl who had died was not the heir to the Cramer estate, and that, 254 UNCLE CARL therefore, the property could not be yielded to Stan- hope as heir-at-law at present. Cramer's daughter must either be found, dead or alive, or the time speci- fied by statute ere she could be declared legally dead elapse, before the estate could be settled. It would be difficult, however, if not impossible, to produce proof of Stanhope's complicity in the girl's disap- pearance, or in the death of the child in Mrs. Hazel- ton's charge, that would be conclusive in the eyes of the court. Until such proof could be offered in evi- dence, as would make a positive case, our friends deemed it wise to leave the villain in ignorance of the fact that he was under suspicion. Meanwhile, there would be no relaxation of effort until the miss- ing ward should have been found. "And now, old friend," said Courtright, after dis- cussing various questions, "you are to come home with me. Now, stop your noise. I won't take 'no' for an answer. Wife expects you, and so does Hattie. That girl is a gem, Englewood. I'll go over to Kaloma with you to see you through the pro- bate business, but the day after to-morrow will be ample time." "Thank you, Courtright," said Carl. "It is good to feel that I have a place at your fireside. But I don't want to wear out my welcome there." "No danger of that," rejoined the lawyer. "The way those foolish women crack you up makes me feel that I must look sharply after my own laurels." "Oh, shucks! Don't try to swell my bump of conceit," said Englewood. "It's large enough now. But really, I ought to run up to the University this evening on a little matter of business." His friend looked at him quizzically for a mo- ment, and then abruptly exclaimed, "What's the use UNCLE CARL 255 of going there ! You can transact your 'business' just as well at my house, or I am much mistaken." "No, I think not," said Carl. "The business itself is not of special importance just now, but I want to see a party that I met some time ago, who has since come to Chicago." "Now see here, Mister Secrecy," said Courtright, "I know you pretty well, and you are coming home with me. Listen. The day before yesterday I brought Hattie down with me to do some shopping for my wife. It was not long before she came bounding into my office followed by a lad of about her own age. 'Oh, Daddy,' she said that's what she calls me now, and I'm proud of it, too, 'who do you think I met in the street just now?' 'Don't know, youngster,' I said. 'Ralph,' she exclaimed, 'Ralph Deneen; who, except Mr. Englewood, was the only true friend I had in the West, and then she introduced the young fellow; a clean, intelligent lad, I think, and an honest one. The upshot of it was that he was invited to come up to the house to- morrow for luncheon. So you see you can do your business there as well as elsewhere, eh?" "I'm glad that Ralph is here," replied Engle- wood. "But why do you assume that it was with him that I had business?" "Now, now! don't try to pull the wool over my eyes," said Courtright. "Don't I know you? Be- sides, Ralph told us that he was here to enter the University, and when I asked him if you hadn't had a hand in that, he said that he had promised to say nothing about who was helping him. But I'm a lawyer, and he showed me more than he knew. Englewood, old friend, you do too much for others for your own good; but God bless you, just the same. 256 UNCLE CARL I wish we had more men of your stamp in the world. But say, you'll come home with me, won't you?" "I ought to say 'no' just to spite you," said Carl. "Blame it all! can't I turn around but that some idiot must think that I'm doing a philanthropic stunt? I'll go up with you, however. But, Courtright, this matter of Ralph's education isn't so much. I like the boy, and he has a good, honest father. Deneen, the elder, is the one who discovered the new lead in the Pheasant mine. I told you about that. And as Ralph has the making of a good and useful man, I have promised his father to look after him a little here. It's only a loan, and not a very heavy one at that. The father has a block of stock in the new company, and there is no question but that when the mine gets to running I shall have the little outlay of mine paid back with interest. So it's really just a paying investment." "All right, all right, Englewood," said the law- yer, "have it your own way; only I'll think of it in my own way, too. You've got a lot of 'investments' laying around that won't pay you a cent in cash divi- dends; but I wish that I was unselfish enough to have half as many. Lord! Englewood, what a splendid idiot you are!" "Dry up !" said Carl. "If you are about through with your slobbering I am hungry enough to masti- cate a piece of decomposed quartz. Let's go home." "All right; we're off," said the lawyer; and soon after they were welcomed home. If Englewood had any doubts as to whether or not he was de trop, they were emphatically removed by the greetings he received. Mrs. Courtright and Hattie Braton, with their quiet but earnest welcome and the children with their effusive frankness, UNCLE CARL 257 warmed his heart to the core; Beatrice, snuggling up on his lap when he was finally seated, voiced the feeling of all when she said, "Uncle Carl is just the bestest chum ever was." That evening, after the children, in care of Hattie, had retired for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Courtright and Carl sat on the open porch, enjoying the beauty of the "night in June." The lawyer had not in- formed his wife of the details of Carl's troubles; but to-night she was taken into their confidence, and she did much to lessen the severe self-condemnation that our friend harbored. "It was a great mistake, it is true," she said, "that you did not see your ward personally; but you did the best you could, as you had light; and if all who make mistakes of judgment were to be condemned because of the evil results that sometimes follow, I fear that none of us would be very happy. If things had all turned out right in this case, you would not question the wisdom of your action." "That is true," answered Carl, "but they did not turn out right, and I therefore think I am culpable; for I should have so acted that there could be no possibility of such a miscarriage." "It does not matter how careful one is," Mrs. Courtright responded. "If there are evilly disposed people to work against us in the dark, we cannot al- ways accomplish good results. This crime was the work of a fiend; and I do not see that you could have prevented it without having known that the crime was contemplated. Such a person would ac- complish his purpose in some way eventually, and perhaps, for of course your ward will be found, the way in which he worked has saved her from the fate 17 258 UNCLE CARL of the little girl who died in Florida. The ways of God are past finding out. Cheer up, friend, all will come out right. You once quoted me, 'It is not pos- sible for us to be faultless, it is possible for us to be blameless.'* And I am sure that you are to be held without blame in this matter, in spite of the mistake." "You give me comfort; you give me comfort," said Carl. Nevertheless, I must ever regret my short- sightedness." "Stanhope must be a very devil," said Courtright, "if he is guilty of all this; and there certainly seems to be no doubt but that he is at the bottom of it." "He isn't fit to live; he ought to be hung!" burst out Englewood. "By heavens! I don't know whether I'll be able to keep my hands off him when we meet." "Why, Mr. Englewood, see here, see here!" ex- claimed Mrs. Courtright, gently laying a sympa- thetic hand on his shoulder. "I never knew you could harbor such feelings. You're tired out, poor boy." "He's right," interposed the lawyer. "If Stan- hope is guilty, he deserves the worst." "Only the all bad deserves the worst," said the lady, "and who shall say that Mr. Stanhope has no good in him. The doctrine of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life, may be a good natural law in the material world the law of com- pensation; but is it good law in the spiritual? Are we to forget the command, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" "Pardon; pardon, my friend!" said Carl. "Of course I was wrong. But I have worried much over this; and I sometimes get so exasperated that I am afraid my temper gets the better of me." "I don't wonder at that, and I don't blame you Dr. John Hall. UNCLE CARL 259 for it," said Mrs. Courtright. "But still I cannot think that Mr. Stanhope is altogether bad. I don't, and I doubt if you believe in the total depravity of any human being; though many are so clouded with sin that one cannot clearly see the good. I have in mind a little quotation on that point that I think has done me good. I am sorry to say I can not give you the author's name: ., , In men whom men pronounce as ill, I find so much of goodness still ; In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of stain and blot; I hesitate to draw the line, Since God has not.' "And so I often blind myself to the evil and try to see only the good. 'Judge not, lest ye be judged' is a good rule. Not that in such dastardly crimes as have been committed with your ward the doer should go unpunished; but yet I think that I would first learn whether the good be not potent enough to re- deem the character of the criminal, ere I condemn him utterly." Hattie Braton had appeared while the lady was speaking, and nestled up to her with an approving caress. Englewood, who heartily enjoyed an argu- ment, disagreed with his friend in some measure. "I don't like your rule," he said, "because of the reason given for it. 'Judge not, lest ye be judged; for with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged.' It is a rule that tells us to refrain from doing a neces- sary thing, because if we do it a necessary thing shall be done to us. If we do evil we should be judged, whether we judge others or not. If we do not evil we need not fear judgment. I would change the rule to 'Judge not blindly, lest ye do an injustice'; for 2 6o UNCLE CARL it is absolutely necessary to judge our fellows, else would society be chaos. Often I have found that the fear of judgment is more potent to deter one from doing evil than is the desire to do good." "But don't you think," said Mrs. Courtright, "that save in those greater crimes, that threaten the de- struction of life and liberty and the stability of our social institutions, the judgment should be left in the hands of the Creator? What are we that we should presume to say of this or that person, 'he is bad.' We do not know, we cannot know of his inner life and motives. What seems to us in action evil, may seem to him a step toward ultimate perfection." "True," returned Carl, "we are not infallible, and therefore we must use great care in the exercise of our opinions. We must judge only of what we know and that, too, without prejudice. We must judge those with whom we come in contact, for both their good and ours and for the advancement of humanity at large. If we have a garden of Easter lilies, we may enjoy them, profit by them, be elevated by their fragrance and symbolism. The dock-weed is a no less beautiful form of life when analyzed, and it has valuable uses; but if allowed to grow in our garden of Easter lilies it would soon choke and destroy them. Therefore we must uproot it and cast it out of our gardens; not to destroy the species; but it should grow in its own garden and not be allowed to encroach upon and destroy the life of our chosen flowers. Neither should we destroy the dock-weed in its own proper soil by choking it out with an abund- ance of our favorite ; for it has its right to live. As 'missionaries' we may strive to perfect the better qualities of the dock-weeds, making of them a per- fect garden of their kind; but we can never make UNCLE CARL 261 lilies of them. So with humanity; all embody good and bad. Should I find a being with whom associa- tion would be inimical to the proper growth of my character, it is my duty either to cast him out of my life or to withdraw my life from his, unless I can so change him or myself as that we may live in juxtapo- sition without injury to the growth of either. I must separate him from my being, not to destroy his life, not to condemn him utterly, but that both may live in their appointed fields and accomplish their allotted work. To illustrate my point, I will be a bit per- sonal. As you know, I have a father, mother, and several brothers and sisters living. But I have seen none of them in several years, and may never see them again. I found during my youth and young manhood that my nature and theirs were so different that there was constant friction between us. They had no sympathy for my aims and work, and there was much in them that seemed wrong in principle from my viewpoint. Doubtless I was as much a thorn in their sides as they were in mine. Neither, then, could develop the best work if constantly irri- tated by the other. I therefore withdrew from the home. Not as condemning them, but that each might grow. My nature is such that I could not live inti- mately with them, and both be happy; and there you have the reason for my homeless state." "Poor friend," said Mrs. Courtright, "I have often wondered why you never spoke of your rela- tives; they must have been very bad for you to feel it necessary to take such a stand." "Remember your quotation," said Carl; " 'Judge not.' It may be that I am the black sheep. At any rate, I do not condemn them. I simply withdrew from the home in the interests of peace." 262 UNCLE CARL "But how about the tie of blood, the natural af- fection of relatives? The 'mother-love' surely Mr. Englewood, there is nothing stronger in this life than that" "Yes, there is," responded Carl. "I do not deny that 'blood is thicker than water.' The natural af- fection must exist. But you have the Master's dic- tum, 'A man's foes shall be of his own household. He that loveth father and mother more than me is not worthy of me.'* To you the Master is a per- son; to me he personified a principle. That prin- ciple was and is stronger with me than the ties of blood." _ "But it seems to me, old friend," put in the lawyer, "that you are losing much of happiness by your course. You lose the comforts and affection of home for conscience's sake, and that is good in theory. But a little policy, a little yielding would give you much of joy. I know it because I have my little circle here that is to me second only to the home 'over the bor- der.' Have you any right to lock the door against yourself as well as against your kith and kin, when by a little yielding so much happiness might be given to each?" "I think we are wandering from the question," said Carl. "I merely spoke of myself in illustration of my conception of the necessity of judgment. But I am surprised that you, Courtright, should counsel anything but rigidity in a matter of conscience. It was no easy thing for me to reach my decision; but having done so, and acted in accordance with it, I have, I confess, lost much of the pleasure of life, but I have gained manyfold more of happiness than I could have done otherwise." Matt. x:s6, 37. UNCLE CARL 263 "Oh, I would not presume to dictate to you on such a matter," said Courtright. "You are too stub- born for me to handle anyway. But I have had so much from a happy home, both during my younger days and since my marriage, that I am sure any sac- rifice short of dishonor would be a small price to pay for such felicity. I'll leave it to Hattie if I'm not right; she looks as if she wanted to say something. Out with it, youngster." "Yes, Miss Braton," said Englewood, "let us have your judgment. Has my stand been well taken?" "Oh, daddy," said Hattie, looking blushingly at Courtright, "I I think we ought to feel very sorry for Mr. Englewood; I think he has done right, because he did what he thought was right. But I believe that, if he can't go back to his home, he ought at least to leave the door of his heart open, so that his brothers and sisters can come in and see what a splendid, noble heart it is, and help him with his Easter lilies." And then the girl buried her face on Mrs. Courtright's shoulder. "Oh, mother," she whispered with a sob, so low that the men did not hear, "he is such a glorious man, it breaks my heart to see him so lonely. Come in the house, please." After the ladies withdrew, the men sat for some time in silence, and then Englewood arose, and throwing away his cigar said musingly, as he walked toward the door, "If I were not twice her years I should mistrust the feeling that that little girl stirs up within me. How she reminds me of my lost pearl." And then recollecting himself he extended his hand to Courtright and the two friends parted for the night. CHAPTER XXVI The following morning Courtright departed early for the city, whither Englewood would follow in time for the evening boat. The children, after a romp with "Uncle Carl," had gone to play with some of the neighboring little folk; and our friend and Miss Braton were strolling about the borders of the little lake. Englewood broke a silence of some min- utes by saying: "Miss Braton, when I leave you to-day it may be a long time, perhaps years, before I see you again. I have a work to do that will probably take me West, and my stay will be of uncertain duration. Before I go I want to make you feel perfectly easy about what it is my privileged purpose to do for you. I believe in you thoroughly, and know that you will make good use of your opportunities. You are not to worry one bit about being a burden upon me, for I do not undertake more than I can perform; and I am honest when I say that I am glad to be able to help you in this way, and would be very sorry if the privilege were taken from me." "You know that I thank you, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie; "how much, I cannot express. I know now that had it not been for you my whole life would have been worse than a wreck; and I shall certainly do my utmost to justify your confidence in me." "There is one thing that I would urge," said Carl, "and that is, keep out of any form of debt as far as possible. I want you, if in need of anything, to let me know of it. Give me the privilege of helping you in any way possible. Not that I am going to UNCLE CARL 265 burden you with a debt to me for anything unneces- sary; but it may be that you will find something more is needed than I have planned for, and in that case I want to see that you have all that is conducive to the best results. Of course, you are to be as inde- pendent as you have expressed the desire to be, and it is to be your right to repay me in the future; but while you are getting ready for your future work, let nothing be neglected that may be conducive to your highest success." "Again I thank you," said the girl; u but, Mr. Englewood, I hope, after a little, to be able to earn some small amounts during my spare hours. I may claim the right, may I not, to use my own earnings toward my education?" "Of course, of course," said Englewood. "You are to be your own mistress. I only stipulate that if more is needed I may be allowed to supply the de- ficiency. You promise, do you not?" "I do, and most gratefully," answered Hattie. "And now, another thing," said Carl. "While I am away I want you to write to me. I am more deeply interested in your career than I can say, and I would keep in touch with you; know of your inner self, as well as of your work; and perhaps I may be able to help you in other ways than we know of now. Will you do this?" "It would be a privilege, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie. "But, oh, I wonder why it is that you take this interest in me ? What is there about me that you should do so much for me?" "A pure heart, a willing mind, a strong will and ambition to do, and withal a strange, elusive quality that reminds me strongly of one very dear to me, who passed out of my life long years ago. These 266 UNCLE CARL are the things that make me want to do for you," answered Englewood. "I hope that you will not be disappointed in me, Mr. Englewood," said Hattie. "But 1 fear that you have a too flattering opinion of one whom you found in such low surroundings ; though I shall try to prove worthy of your great kindness." "I am sure of it," returned Carl, "and do not fear the result. Don't worry, little girl, over the past. Forget where I found you, save as the memory of it may serve as a warning, and keep you from similar danger in the future. As for your own personality, your character, remember that most beautiful and gorgeous flowers grow in swamps and in poisonous atmospheres; and dear old Mark Twain found midst the dreary barrenness of Monte Rosa's eternal snows* a little forget-me-not. So the flowers of truth and purity abound everywhere. They are found in the swamps, midst foul associates; and au- stere science, when climbing amid the apparently cold, unfeeling rocks of philosophy, finds the God-head represented there by a forget-me-not. Eternal law prevails everywhere; and one cannot successfully conceal one's real character for long, in spite of en- vironment. Carrion remains carrion, no matter how much we may deluge it with cologne; and goodness, purity, truth, equally persistent, cannot be concealed beyond discovery even in Satan's strongholds. And so you, it matters not whence you come, I believe to be a flower that is well worthy of a place in the Gar- den of Life. You have been transplanted from the swamps to grow more freely in this pure atmosphere, and I have no fear that my belief in you was unwar- "A Tramp Abroad," Bk. II, Ch. V. UNCLE CARL 267 ranted; no doubt but that a high success will crown our efforts. And now let us join Mrs. Courtright; she seems to be looking for us." "Well, children," that lady said as they ap- proached, "I suppose you are all tired out from your long morning's play." "I don't know how the little girl feels," replied Carl, drawing himself up to his full height, "but I am quite rested for such a little kid." Mrs. Courtright smiled. "Do you know," she said, "I never seem to get over being surprised at seeing you so childlike. You are such a tall, dignified man, and usually so quiet, that one would never sus- pect you of nonsense. What have you two been doing?" "Preaching," said Carl. "Listening," said Hattie. "Well, I think that I'll take up the collection," said Mrs. Courtright. "Come over to this seat, little girl and boy." "Yes, ma'am," the two responded, meekly follow- ing to a rustic bench. "I isn't got no penny," said Carl, mimicking a child's voice. "Neizer has I," said Hattie. "Well, in that case, I think my collection must be made up entirely of information," said Mrs. Court- right as she seated herself. "Really, to be serious, I wish you would tell me about our to-day's visitor, Mr. Englewood. Who and what is Ralph Deneen? Hattie has only told me that he was a staunch little friend to you both." "There isn't much to tell," replied Englewood. "Ralph's mother died when he was three years old. His father a patient, honest, hard-working man 268 UNCLE CARL brought him up as best he could, sending him to school as soon as he was old enough; but otherwise he was too poor to do much more for the boy than to keep him in food and clothes. He was constant, however, in urging him to form the habits of sterling honesty and perseverance. Ralph was an exception- ally bright boy, and loyal through and through. As the father was at work in the mines all day, Ralph's hours out of school were spent for the most part with the children of the street; and he was a king among them. All of them looked up to and admired the sturdy, self-reliant youngster, who ruled them with a strong hand. But, as I often had occasion to observe, he was always just, never a bully. At school he was exceptionally able, and graduated near the head of his class. He had a special ability in mathe- matics, and a boyish but intelligent interest in all things pertaining to machinery. Having had fre- quent opportunities to watch him, I concluded that, if he could only be given the chance, he would grow to be an exceptionally able man. His father, wishing to do the best he could for the lad, has sent him here, and I promised to see him started on the road, taking up civil and mechanical engineering if he proves his fitness. It will be necessary probably for him to give a year or so to preliminary study, before entering the University. His language, though never profane, is that of the boys of the street, slangy and full of strange idioms. But that will quickly wear off. He is at heart courageous, ambitious, honest, and loyal, and I have no doubt that you will like him. I am just a bit curious, myself, as to how he will act in your 'high society,' my lady. I have never seen him save in rough surroundings. But I believe that his UNCLE CARL 269 courage will carry him through, even if diffidence does urge him to turn and run." "But it's going to be quite an undertaking if his father is so poor," said Mrs. Courtright. "The ex- penses of Chicago life are rather heavy." "Oh, the expenses will be cared for," said Carl. "Besides, the lad is one of the kind that will make his way. He's a worker, and will find ways to get on and keep up his studies, too." "Oh, you simple fellow !" said the lady. "Don't you suppose that I know who'll pay his expenses? Why will you give away so much when you need a rest yourself?" "His father," said Carl, ignoring the question, "has some shares in the Pheasant mine that Court- right is interested in, and is besides a steady, hard worker. If the boy needs more than he can earn, the father will see that the cost is paid." "I know Ralph pretty well," said Hattie, "and I am sure that he will not be a burden to any one for long. He will make his way all right, and will be a help rather than a burden after he gets started. I know you will like him, mother." "It must be about time for him now," said Carl, looking at his watch. "I believe I'll go over to the station and meet the youngster. "Yes, do," said Hattie, "and we will go too, if mother is willing." "Why, yes," said Mrs. Courtright; "I am quite interested in the lad." "He'll be surprised to see you, though, Mr. Engle- wood," said Hattie. "I told him that you were in Florida. You know we did not expect you for sev- eral days yet." As they strolled toward the station, Englewood 270 UNCLE CARL told of several interesting characteristics of the sturdy little Western lad; but Mrs. Courtright, who had been often mistaken in the characters of those to whom she had extended the helping hand, was in- clined to be incredulous of the worth of the boy. It was with quick interest, however, that she saw a well- dressed, clear-eyed, athletic young man dash from the train across the platform toward Carl, exclaim- ing: "Why, I'm blamed if 'tain't Mr. Englewood. I didn't guess as what youse would be here. You're all right, you bet!" and he eagerly grasped Carl's outstretched hand. "Glad to see you, Ralph, glad to see you," said Englewood. "My, but you don't look fit to play mibs in that rig. You're looking well, my boy." "Yes," said Ralph, "these togs ain't jest the thing to knuckle down in, but you see dad thought as how I'd got to be a gent now, and so he fixed me up a bit. But youse ain't lookin' none to scrumptious. Has yer been sick?" "No, no, boy," said Carl; "but I've been traveling for some days, and haven't got thoroughly rested yet; but let me introduce you to my very good friend, Mrs. Courtright. This is Ralph Deneen, Mrs. Courtright." Ralph awkwardly removed his hat, and bowed; but the lady, quick in her likes and dis- likes, extended her hand, and with cordial words welcomed him. Hattie joined with her greeting, and they all then started for home. Ralph was ignorant of the amenities of social life, and knew it. He was by nature frank and honest, however, and in spite of his natural diffidence due to the unaccustomed society of the "swell lady," and his dress and surroundings, he impressed his hostess favorably. The two walked UNCLE CARL 271 together, Hattie and Carl being some paces ahead; and Mrs. Courtright's heart warmed to the boy when, Englewood's name having been mentioned, Ralph's tongue was loosened, and with glistening eyes he expressed his admiration and respect for his friend. His language was far from polished; slang abounded; but his heart spoke, and the lady smiled genially at the oft repeated, "He's all right, you bet!" "You evidently think a great deal of Mr. Engle- wood," she said. "Was he, then, such a good friend to you ?" "You bet he was!" said Ralph earnestly; "and to all the rest 'uv of the kids, too. Why, there ain't a kid in the hull Gulch but whut'll tell you that Mister Englewood is jest the hull cheese, and the biggest cheese in the country, too. He was a swell gent out there, but he used to be jest as decent to us fellers as though we was King Ed 's kids. He used to play mibs with us and scrub ball, and twict he took the hull gang to the circus, and sometimes to the opera house when something good was on. But he wouldn't let any of the boys cuss. He said real gents didn't use cuss-words, and he didn't like to 'sociate with any but gents, 'nd so the kids jest natterally stopped swearin', cause they wanted to be friends with him." "Wasn't that a sort of bribe?" said Mrs. Court- right. "You boys, weren't you good just so that Mr. Englewood would take you to the shows?" "No, ma'am!" said Ralph heatedly. "Youse couldn't bribe those kids no way. They behaved theirselves jest because they lovecl Mr. Englewood. That's it, we jest loved him. There wasn't one of the gang but what would have gone to purgatory for him if he'd uv asked it. An' he's one of the bravest 272 UNCLE CARL gents I ever seen, too. Why! I knowed him to go inter Squinty-eyed Pete's place, the toughest joint in Montana, when it was full of drunks, and took a girl out singlehanded. I don't believe ther's another man in the hull blamed mines that cud 'uv done it. And that girl was Miss Braton, too; but you've prob'ly hearn of that. Oh, you bet, Mr. Engle- wood's all right!" "No, I haven't heard the particulars about his res- cue of Hattie Braton," said Mrs. Courtright. "Her life in the West was a sad one, and I have tried to not stir up bitter memories. But I would like to hear how Mr. Englewood saved her, if you will tell me." Nothing loth, Ralph entered into the history of the adventure, so far as he knew it; though his knowledge of the details of the rescue were very meagre; and finished his tale just as they reached home. Mrs. Courtright was much moved; admira- tion for Englewood mingling with her sympathy for the girl who had passed through such a terrible expe- rience. She took Ralph's arm as they entered the gate. "I know," she said, "that Mr. Englewood has high expectations of your future. He sacrifices his whole life for others. See that you do not disap- point him in your life; for I am sure that it is to his efforts that you owe your present opportunities. He is a very lonely man, and it is little that we can do for him save to see that his labors shall not be in vain. God never made a nobler man," she said fervently "nor Satan a more dastardly villain than the one who would do him wrong." "Right you are, ma'am," said Ralph. "I hope I may be struck dead if I ever do a thing to make him UNCLE CARL 273 sorry. He's the whitest gent in the hull blamed me- nagerie. You bet he jest is!" After an hour of chatting under the trees, the children were called and all adjourned to the house, where luncheon was served. Ralph's diffidence disap- peared under the cordial friendliness of his hostess and her family; and he proved to- be a capital enter- tainer, especially to the youngsters, who listened with bright eyes as he was led to tell in his odd way of some of his experiences in the West. Englewood, however, was first in their eyes, and it was he that the two little girls clambered upon as soon as, the repast over, they were again seated by the lakeside. "Arthur doesn't seem to be feeling very well," said Mrs. Courtright, "and I have made him lie down on the couch. I am a little worried about him, for he is rarely ill." "I knows; I knows ze matter," said little Beatrice, "Artie's puffed." "Puffed," said the mother; "what do you mean, dear?" "Des puffed and puffed," said Beatrice; "and zen he was offul sick, 'nd his beckfus corned up." "Mary, why didn't you tell me," said Mrs. Court- right. "I must send for a doctor at once. Excuse me, good people, but I must go in at once. Poor boy, I didn't know he was so ill." As the lady started for the house, a sudden thought caused Englewood to stop her. "I have an idea that I know what is the matter," he said. "Mary, wasn't Arthur trying to smoke?" "Yes," said Mary. "He just found one of papa's cigars what he left in the barn, 'nd I told him it was naughty; but he said he guessed if papa and Uncle 18 274 UNCLE CARL Carl could smoke he could, 'nd then he smoked and smoked, and pretty soon he jest womited all over." "Poor boy," said Mrs. Courtright. "He has learned his lesson, I guess, but I must give him a good scolding." "Don't do that," said Carl. "I remember just how I felt about smoking when I was a boy. It seemed such a manly thing to do. And boys like to be men, just as a little girl likes to tie a big shawl around her waist and then strut around with it trail- ing behind her, pretending to be a lady. Let me talk to Arthur when he comes out." "Very well," said Mrs. Courtright; "but I've told Arthur time and again that he mustn't smoke, and he really should be punished." "I think that I can give him a lesson that he will not forget," said Carl. "You bet he can, ma'am," chimed in Ralph. "Mis- ter Englewood cured lots of us kids of hittin' terbac- cer." The conversation then drifted to indifferent topics, and an hour or so passed swiftly by. It was nearing time for Carl to return to the city when Arthur ap- peared, coming slowly over the lawn. As he neared them, Englewood said, "Hello, Arthur. You are just the boy I wanted to see. Do you suppose you can find me an ax?" "Why, yes, Uncle Carl," said Arthur, "I can get you papa's ax out of the shed." "All right, bring it here, will you," said Carl, turning to Mrs. Courtright. "You don't mind, do you, if I cut a big gash in one of these trees? It will not harm it, and it will be an object-lesson that I think Arthur can comprehend more readily than he would a lecture." UNCLE CARL 275 "Of course, do what you want," said the lady. "I am curious to know what it is, though." "Wait and see," said Carl. Soon Arthur appeared, carrying a large ax. "Here it is, Uncle Carl," he said. "My! it's heavy." Englewood, taking the ax, bade Arthur watch him, and swinging it swiftly over his shoulder he buried the blade in the trunk of one of the large maples. "Oh, Uncle Carl! What did you do that for? Are you going to cut it down?" exclaimed the boy. "No, Arthur, I'm not going to cut the tree down, and I did that just to show you something that I'll explain later," said Englewood as he withdrew the ax, and stepping to a small tree that, but two or three inches in diameter, had been planted the pre- ceding year. "Now Arthur," swinging the ax to his shoulder, "suppose I strike this tree just as I did the other, what would happen?" "Why, it would kill it," said the boy. "But won't the cut I gave the other tree kill it?" asked Englewood. "No, of course not," said Arthur. "It's too old and too big to kill that way; but this is such a little tree." "All right then, I'll let it alone," said Carl. "Now, my boy, let's sit down on this bench. You, Ralph," as the others gathered about, "take Miss Braton and the two youngsters and go feed the swans. We don't want you here. Yes, you may stay, Mrs. Court- right." "All right, Mr. Englewood," said Ralph. "What you says goes, every time," and the young people moved away. Mr. Englewood put his arm about Arthur, and 276 UNCLE CARL drew him close to his side. "You poor boy," he said, "you have been real sick, haven't you?" "Yes, I have been so sick to my stomach," said Arthur; "but I didn't let on to you, Uncle Carl. How did you know it?" "Oh, I have had a similar experience," said Carl. "Ha, ha ! How well I remember it. I was just about your age, and my older brother was a great smoker. I always thought he looked so fine with his big meerschaum pipe, and one day when he had gone out and his pipe was lying on the table, I filled it with tobacco, and went out in the woodshed for my first smoke. My ! oh my ! how big I felt as I puffed away. But it wasn't long before, somehow, I didn't feel so good. I began to feel all trembly and swimmy. And then I thought I'd go in the house and lie down; but when I stood up oh, oh! how sick I was ; and all of my good dinner, my ! oh my ! it all spilled out and I just lay down, about the sick- est little boy that ever was. It was a long time be- fore I got over it, and I never tried to smoke again until many years afterward. You see, Arthur, to- bacco is a poison, and only those who are strong and vigorous can safely use it. It is always a poison, though it has its good uses, and is actually beneficial for some people. But it is never good for growing boys. When a boy has grown to be a strong man, if he chooses to contract so expensive and, in the eyes of many, so disagreeable a habit, he may do so with- out very bad results to himself, because he is strong enough to overcome the bad effects of the poison; just as that strong, full-grown maple tree will over- come the ill effects of that cut with the ax, and will continue to live and give its beautiful shade in spite of the scar. But when a young boy gets the habit of t ^ / / smoking it has the same effect as would that blow of the ax if given to the young tree. It might kill it; it is sure to stunt it; and it could never grow into a beautiful, perfect tree. You see, the young tree is not yet strong enough to stand the shock ; and growing boys are not strong enough to overcome the effects of the poison in tobacco. Boys can't smoke and at the same time grow up strong, healthy, good men; and we want our Arthur to be the best and strongest and healthiest man in the world. Do you see, my boy, what I am driving at?" "Yes, I do, Uncle Carl," said Arthur. "But I never thought of it in that way. I just thought if papa and you smoked, it would be all right for me to smoke too." "But you found that it wasn't all right, didn't you?" smiled Carl. "You see, there are many things that full-grown men can do, that boys cannot, or should not do; just as there are many things that the mother can do that you would think Sister Mary very foolish to attempt. You will be a man before many years, and then, if you want to, you may follow the habit that foolish old Uncle Carl do'es ; but you will never be much of a man if you do it now. But I guess you won't try it again just yet, will you?" "No, indeed I won't," said Arthur. "Oh, Uncle Carl, how plain you make everything, don't you! Every time I look at that maple tree, I'll just remem- ber, and and mama ! I ain't ever, ever going to smoke again, so there!" "My dear little son," said Mrs. Courtright, snug- gling the little fellow in her arms, while Carl, lean- ing over her shoulder, whispered in her ear, "Isn't my way better than a scolding?" Shortly after, the family accompanied Carl and 278 UNCLE CARL Ralph to the station; and Mrs. Courtright, who now felt a strong faith in and liking for the lad, urged him to come frequently to visit them ; and they then bade farewell to the man who, passing through keener trials, shouldering heavier burdens and en- during more of the crosses than falls to the lot of the average man, yet had preserved and developed a character that won from all who knew him a deep respect and affection. In the city Englewood accompanied Ralph to the offices of the University faculty, and having charted the course for the lad's ship on the sea of learning, he met Courtright at the dock and boarded the steamer for Kaloma. CHAPTER XVII The bewilderment of Stanhope when Englewood appeared in the Probate Court can hardly be described. He had never doubted the report of Jenkins in regard to his death, and his unheralded appearance was startling and disconcerting. Stan- hope had had every hope that at this session of the court he would be declared heir to the Cramer es- tate, and be able to at once clear away his financial difficulties. The proofs that Englewood presented in regard to the "mistake"; and that the girl upon whose death Stanhope's hopes of getting immediate control of the property rested was not the one who had died in Florida, were incontrovertible, however; and the villain was obliged to acquiesce in the court's decision to keep the property intact until there should be no question as to its proper destination. With financial ruin unavoidable, for he had de- pended upon this wealth to carry him through other- wise fatal speculations, the villain left the court-room, muttering many a curse at his fellow-trustee. It is not our purpose to follow in detail the untiring search that Englewood made for his lost ward. Suf- fice it to say that for over two years he made every effort; calling to his assistance the ablest detectives; advertising extensively and offering large rewards for information as to her whereabouts. Every possible means were made use of, every clue followed, and thousands of miles wearily traveled in his efforts to right the wrong. All was in vain, however, and he returned at last to Kaloma, practically penniless. His efforts to get trace of Jenkins had proved equally 280 UNCLE CARL futile. That rascal had disappeared as completely as if Satan had covered him with his dark mantle. It was Carl's belief, however, that the villain would some time reappear, and that it was most probable that he would seek his companion in crime, Stan- hope, whose home was in this pretty little city. He therefore decided to remain in Kaloma, and while not relaxing his vigilance, recoup in some meas- ure his depleted pocket-book. For he had assumed some considerable burdens of a benevolent nature, and having given his promises it was his will to keep them. It was a matter of honor with him to be true to his word, no matter at what cost to himself, and the fact that he had wrecked his finances in his search for his ward did not, he felt, release him from any engagements he had made. He therefore settled down with his three W's working, watching, wait- ing. A mechanic of more than ordinary ability as well as an able writer whose articles found a ready market in some of the leading magazines, he applied himself with diligence and painstaking care to his work, and soon found himself well able to care for all of his obligations. Though by no means a so-called "society man," for he found it difficult to practice the innumerable little hypocrisies that are apparently necessary for advancement in our latter day "swim," Englewood was not without friends who, recognizing him as a man of worth, urged him to join their circle's. A lover of the children, it was not long before "Uncle Carl" was hailed by them as the prince of chums, and he was never too busy to listen to their busy prattle; to mend the dolls and kites; to soothe and advise them in their little trials. Indeed, it was through the little folk that the elders first became UNCLE CARL 281 aware of the qualities of the new citizen ; and though many called him foolish for his stubborn exactness in the small as well as in the major affairs of life, all respected him as a man of truth and honor. While to perhaps the majority of people the appearance of truth is a first consideration, to Carl truth itself was the essential thing, the all in all; and it was not long before it was a common remark, "If Mr. Engle- wood says it is so, it is so." As the months passed and he became more familiar with the people and the customs of his new home, Carl identified himself quietly with public affairs, and was an influential member of an at first ex- clusive organization, having for its primary object the infusing of a spirit of integrity and aggressive purity into the conduct of city affairs. While neither seeking nor desiring office, the members of the club were insistent in demanding that only men good and true and able should control the government of their city. As their objects became better known the or- ganization grew to be a power to be reckoned with; and the sneers of the professional politicians at the "Immaculates," as they sarcastically called the club members, changed first to alarm, and then to servility as they felt their power slipping from them. It is a truth that, no matter how indifferent, or weak, or culpable the people of our world seem to be at times, as individuals or as masses, yet, given the right lead- ership, they can be led more easily upward than downward. Right is stronger than wrong, truth than falsehood, light than darkness; and the beauty of holiness a more potent magnet than the wiles of Sa- tan. Were it not so, society, civilization, government could not exist for a day. And this club, believing in the predominant tendency toward good, sought, 282 UNCLE CARL not so much to force the good in or the bad out, as it did to open the eyes of the indifferent to conditions that should not exist, to imbue them with the convic- tion of their individual responsibilities and duties, and to arouse in all so far as possible an enthusiasm for progressive purity in both public and private life. In this organization Englewood became one of the most prominent members; but, though he was often urged to allow his name to be used as a candi- date for office, he steadily declined. Of his friends in Chicago he saw but little; two or three hasty visits he made them, and occasionally Mr. Courtright came to Kaloma to see him on busi- ness matters. It was on one of these business trips that the lawyer, known to be a close friend of Carl's, was asked by the chairman of the club to urge Engle- wood's acceptance of office. Courtright agreed to do so, "But," he said, "I have no more influence with the man when he has decided upon a course, than a straw would have in turning back the Falls of Ni- agara. When he reaches a decision his future action is settled, unless the U. S. Army backed by the Navy thinks it worth while to try to change it; and it's doubtful if even they could do it. However, I'll talk to him." And he did later broach the subject to Englewood, but without avail. "I do not think," said Carl, "that it is at all neces- sary, or even advisable for me to accept the office. I believe that I am helping to accomplish some good as I am, but I have neither the training nor the incli- nation that would enable me to give the best service in such a position as is suggested. We have plenty of more able men, who are willing to serve, and who can be elected. Why then should I be chosen against my desire? Besides, my friend, there is that in my UNCLE CARL 283 past life, a matter of record, that, if used by our opponents, would not only probably defeat me, but would retard in great measure the progress of our work." "I know to what you allude," said the lawyer, "but it is not at all likely that that event, so many years old, would be brought up now. Besides, I know that you were not guilty of what was charged against you, though you never told me the real facts in the case, and even if it should come up, you could quickly dispel its evil effects by telling the truth about it." "That would be impossible," returned Englewood. "Another's reputation is involved, and only through that other can the truth be made known. My word has passed on that. But really, I shrink from open- ing that old sore, and unless I can see that it is neces- sary, I shall never consent to the use of my name for public office." "I'd give half I own for the privilege of lifting that cloud from you," said Courtright; "but if you've decided there's no use of my braying any longer," and the conversation drifted to other topics. During the years Hattie Braton had developed an exceptional talent as an artist, and had gone East for higher instruction. She and Englewood had kept up a regular correspondence, and it was with great satis- faction that he watched her growth, and realized that he had been instrumental in saving for the world a jewel of rare beauty and worth. For the girl was, as Mrs. Courtright often said, "true as steel, keen as a razor, and beautiful as a rose." She had applied herself faithfully to her studies, and it was not long before she began writing to Mr. Englewood, "I've sold some of my sketches for quite a sum, so this month you are to send me only $ ." And long 284 UNCLE CARL before her term was ended she was not only self-sup- porting, but began paying back in small installments the amounts advanced for her education. But, to her always, Mr. Englewood was "the noblest man in the world." Ralph Deneen proved worthy and advanced rapidly in his studies, taking position as one of the most faithful and thorough students in the Univer- sity. He soon lost the picturesque though slangy speech that we have heard him use, and became a well-spoken, well-dressed, and well-liked young man. He, too, soon found ways to lessen the financial bur- dens. "Now look at that," said Englewood to Court- right, on one of his flying visits. "I no sooner try to do something for a worthy fellow, than he turns around and tells me he'll do it himself. Seems as if I never can carry out my plans." "Too bad about you !" ejaculated Courtright. "If I couldn't do better than you do I think that I'd soak my head in a barrel of burning brimstone. Why don't you brace up and try to behave yourself?" "Rather sarcastic" for a donkey of your age, aren't you?" said Carl. These two cronies did like to talk "sassy" to each other. "But honestly, though, I wouldn't be so proud of my youngsters if they did not try to help out; yet I can't help regretting that I become less necessary to them." "Less necessary financially, perhaps," said Court- right, "but more and more necessary every day per- sonally. It beats my comprehension what they can see in such an idiot as you are to love as they do." "Tut, tut, that'll do, that'll do," said Carl. "Have a cigar; and may it burn your wicked tongue out." UNCLE CARL 285 There was one of the children at Kaloma that found a special nook in the heart of the man who had a strong love for all of the little folk. She was a bright child of some twelve years, named Laura Brentford. Not especially attractive as to feature, but with a face that lighted up so expressively under the influence of her emotions, that one forgot snub nose, rather sallow complexion, and small closely set black eyes. Daughter of a widowed mother, who was employed during the day, the child would often come to Englewood's office after school hours; and it was his delight to listen to her prattle, and draw out the merry laugh and bright sunshine of expres- sion. One day the youngster came in with a sober face, and taking her position on Englewood's knee said: "Now, Uncle Carl, I want to tell you something. But first you must promise that you won't laugh at me and that you won't tell mama." "Well," said Englewood, "I'll certainly promise to not laugh at you ; but you must let me use my own judgment about telling mama; I can't promise to not do that until I know what it is." "But I don't want her to know it until afterward," said the youngster. "I want to do something all myself." "I'll not tell her if I think it is all right," said Englewood ; "but I can't promise until I know." "Well, I am going to tell you anyhow," said Laura, and thereupon she told of a child in her class at school who had been absent for some weeks. Upon inquiring in regard to her, Laura learned that her family were very poor, and that, too proud to beg and too poor to purchase, the child was kept from 286 UNCLE CARL school because of the parents' inability to provide suitable clothing for her. "Now, Uncle Carl," said Laura, "I want you to help me to earn some money so that I can get a cloak for that little girl, so she can come to school." "You dear little sweetheart," said Englewood, "of course, I'll help you. Let me see; um-m-m, well, you come here to-morrow and I'll have something for you to do." "But, Uncle Carl," said Laura, "I don't want you to give me the money. I want to earn it all myself." "Never fear," said Carl, "you'll earn the money all right." When the child came the next day, Englewood gave her an old manuscript that she was to copy for him, and he had also spoken to two or three friends upon whom Laura called, when she had finished his work; and altogether she was given labor for which she was liberally paid. It was a month or so later that Englewood learned, through another source, that the youngster's enthusiasm had materially less- ened, and that the money thus given was spent on herself instead of on the poor pupil, though Laura herself told him nothing about that. Still, Englewood felt a sincere affection for the child. She was one of those whose sympathies are easily aroused; whose emotions, though fleeting, were very real while they lasted; and in the incident related, as well as by her quick appreciation of other needs, she appealed to our friend as one having the qualities that might be developed into an exception- ally beautiful womanhood. The girl was very selfish at heart, and her sympa- thies were often quickly cooled when she had time to consider them in the light of self-interest. Still, UNCLE CARL 287 Englewood delighted in fostering her better side; believing that the unselfish traits could be strength- ened until they should become paramount. And so through some years he kept in touch with her; and many were the little "outings" he arranged for her and her playmates. To give happy childhood hours to those who would otherwise have but a dull past to look back upon in their mature years seemed well worth while; and if at the same time he could strengthen the young plants in their upward growth he would be doing a material good to them and to the world. Laura was fourteen years old when she came to Englewood one day for advice. "I have to decide on a course of study," she said, "and I don't know what to do. If it could be possible for me to go to college, I would know just what to do, but I am afraid I can't go. If I can't go, I should take quite different studies. Now what do you think about it?" Englewood fully realized the weakness as well as the strength of the girl's character. She was quick to comprehend, strong in resolve, but weak in execu- tion; and he had never known her to carry out to full fruition any high purpose requiring long-con- tinued patience and effort; though she often con- ceived and started vigorously to plan and execute com- mendable projects. Soon tiring, or losing enthusi- asm, however, the work would be dropped unfinished. But he resolved to do what he could for her, with strong hopes that she would prove worthy in the end. He therefore said : "Select your studies, Laura, just as if you were sure of going to college. And if your mother cannot send you there herself, and she approves, I will see 288 UNCLE CARL that you have all the help necessary above what she can afford." "Oh, Uncle Carl, how good you are !" said Laura, as she snuggled up to him, and Englewood thought, "Poor youngster, I will try my hardest for you, but I am much afraid that it will only prove Erickson's proverb, 'You can't make an oak tree out of a goose- berry bush.' It's worth trying for, though, and you shall have all of the advantages that I can give to you." In near proximity to Kaloma there were several small but beautiful lakes. Indeed, the city is a quite noted summer resort, and there are many ideal spots, both natural and artificial, where he who loves the "Great Mother" may rest and worship to his heart's content. It was one of Englewood's delights when evening approached to row out upon one of these crystal beauty spots. The clear, fragrant air, the stillness broken by the sounds of distant voices in song or laughter, as the campers on the shore en- joyed their outing pleasures; the changing colors of the closing day reflected by the placid waters, and later the radiance of the gentle moon ; while from a distant hostelry came the strains of music, softened to a weird sweetness, were all conducive to a feeling of peace and a somewhat melancholy content. It was, to use his own words in a letter that he wrote to a friend, "At such a time that the profoundest thoughts of which I am capable not very deep at best become living realities to me. Principles, emotions, resolutions take form, and all evil disturb- ances are for the time forgotten. There I find my 'church.' There such good as is in me lives; and though the turmoil of business and the annoyances of city life swiftly follow, yet the machine-like round of UNCLE CARL 289 duties runs more smoothly, and one's patience is strengthened, and one's work is better done, because of this quiet communion with 'Mother Nature.' I am not much of a churchman ; I rarely enter a 'house of worship' ; but out under the vast dome I 'list to Nature's teaching.' There I hear the voice of the Great Eternal. There I realize my own littleness, and at the same time have a sense of my own im- portance as the Voice tells that it has been permitted me to become a part of the infinite whole, and that, though I am but an atom in comparison with the great whole ; yet the whole would not be complete if this atom were not, and the grand harmony the 'music of the spheres' would lose something of its beauty if I failed to vibrate in unison." So indeed, we are all small and yet great. Each fills a definite space, and plays an important part which none other can do ; and though one's own indi- viduality may seem to be of small consequence midst the millions of lives by which it is surrounded, yet it is emphatically true that each one has the privilege of adding force and strength to the great principles of truth and beauty and holiness. Sometimes he would take Laura with him on these little outings, and though it was at all times easy to arouse her emotions, to make her feel strongly the beauties of higher thought; yet out in the gloaming, gliding here and there over a glassy surface reflecting the marvelous blazonry of the heavens, or swaying gently with the wavelets as a passing boat would multiply the reflected star-spangles, or again moving inshore and listening to the mysterious sounds and whisperings of the night, she seemed to drink in more intensely, and to respond more intelligently to the 19 290 UNCLE CARL beautiful thoughts and high aspirations which he sought to implant in her heart. Grave or gay, in fun and frolic or in the serious moods, it was always his effort to draw her toward truth. To him sin- cerity was the watchword, and he defined it as "a con- stant endeavor to establish and maintain a perfect harmony between one's life and one's highest possible conception of truth." Laura always agreed with him ; honestly agreed with him on these topics. Yet her nature was such that in the active affairs of life, self-interest and expediency ruled. But she was young, and her real life all before her, and it was Englewood's endeavor to so imbue her with a sense of the importance of the higher life that she might grow from the stature of the "gooseberry bush" to that of the "oak." He often referred then and in later years to the incident of the cloak she had "pur- chased" for the poor school-girl. Laura did not know that he knew of the use she had made of the money, and she always received his reference to that event with a self-satisfied little smile that was a source of real sorrow to him. And he made that transac- tion a "test-stone," as it were. Sincerity being his standard he would continue to help her toward it; and when the girl would of her own accord say to him, when he made reference to the cloak, "Uncle Carl, I never bought it, and you have been deceived in me all of this time; but now I am true enough to acknowledge it," he would open wide his heart to her in thanksgiving; and say, "Truth has conquered, and she will be an oak tree after all." It is the little things of life that are the true index of character. And though it would be a hard thing for her to do, and harder the longer she postponed it, yet until she did confess, until the little smile of satisfaction should UNCLE CARL 291 give place to a heartfelt regret, he would know that she was not faithful to the principle of truth. We are thus prolix in our relation of Englewood's work with Laura, because we wish to show his methods and his earnestness. He had many little proteges, both boys and girls; and with them all he used the one plan of placing before them the mental food, explaining its uses and striving to interest and stimulate them to personal research, and then giving the plant freedom to choose, while he would know the result by the after growth. We have at hand the exact data in regard to his work with Laura Brent- ford, and give it as an illustration of this earnest man's character and methods. In another chapter we shall print a few of his letters to her while in college, that will more fully show, not only his methods, but also something of the inner character of the man himself. The matter of the girl's college work was not again referred to, though Englewood continued his friendly and helpful association, and held her respect and affectionate confidence until she graduated from the high school. It was some weeks after that event, and during the summer vacation, that Mrs. Brentford informed Carl that she had resigned her position and was going to V to secure a house for herself and daughter. Though the plan did not seem to him to be wise, he gave the mother credit for knowing what was best; and it was with some surprise that he learned later through a letter from her, that instead of his assisting her in giving the daughter an educa- tion, she expected him to bear the whole burden. "I can take care of myself all right," she wrote, "if you will hold Laura up." He had passed his word to the girl, however, and ungrumblingly 292 UNCLE CARL assumed a burden that, considering his numerous other expenses, was rather more than he could carry without running behind in his finances. He later found that he not only had to meet the girl's expenses, but that the mother, as well, felt free to solicit help for herself. We find it not easy to understand the man's course of reasoning, when, himself in need, and with a limited income, he consented to the assumption of such a burden. He, however, was just the kind of man who would rather suffer greatly himself than to break a promise. And though his promise was given without any thought that his resources would be so heavily drawn upon, he yet yielded without a murmur rather than be charged with unfaithfulness. He had promised Laura an education, and she should have it at any cost, for she surely was not responsible for the mother's conduct. And he believed that the girl might yet prove worthy of his self-sacrifice. In the following chapter we publish a few letters selected from many in our possession that were writ- ten to the girl during her college days. Save for the elimination of an occasional non-essential sentence, we give these letters just as they were written by Englewood, without other preparation than a benevo- lent affection for a little girl, his junior by nearly a quarter of a century. If the reader is weary of the subject the chapter may be passed over without break- ing the continuity of our history. We give them only because they are direct illustrations of Engle- wood's character and his manner of influencing the young. It was his rule to never write a social or friendly letter without having in it some thought that would be worth considering. He disliked gossipy correspondence, and in each epistle his inner self, his UNCLE CARL 293 heart, his intellect would find place. Another reason that we publish a few of these letters now, with the promise that if our readers find them as good as we have the whole series will be given them, is that Laura often spoke of them as "real inspirations," helpful and uplifting. And though she proved Erickson's proverb, and by her life denied Engle- wood's hopes, yet they may prove to others not only momentarily inspiring, as they did to the girl, but lastingly helpful as well. CHAPTER XXVIII Kaloma, M , December 3ist. 11.40 P. M. To Miss Laura Brentford, V M ) IT J. Greeting. Dear Little Girl: " 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now Is brooding like a gentle spirit, o'er The still and pulseless world," and old "Uncle Carl" sits, as is his wont at this season of the year, all alone with his thoughts, reviewing the journey of the year just closing, and trying to ascer- tain whether or no the balance is on the right side of the ledger. There is no such thing, of course, as a debit and credit account with life; the ultimate effects of each act, of each word, are so far-reaching and so interdependent upon the acts and words of others that an exact accounting can never be rendered. Neither am I one who believes in waiting for the new year, or a birthday anniversary, or any other "red letter" day for the forming of new resolutions and the turning of "new leaves"; for the resolving and the turning should occur on the instant that one dis- covers an error. Yet it is only when viewing life's battlefield from a distance that we can get a clear picture of the whole. The ascent or descent of the pathway may be so slight that we do not notice it when we are journeying on, yet, looking back from the distance, we can clearly note its character. Hold- ing in mind the clear conception of our personality at UNCLE CARL 295 one season, some distance removed, we can intelli- gently compare it with our present personality. ^ The deeds done during a term of months can be viewed and results clearly apprehended without the bias of emotions felt at the time of their occurrence ; and we can thus, if we study sincerely, profit by the past ex- perience; feel joy or regret according as we find a preponderance of flowers or of weeds, and advance upon our further journey with renewed determination to carve our future on the lines we have selected. Sometimes, as I have sat with my thoughts at this hour, I have felt (The hour has just struck announ- cing the death of the old, the birth of the new year, and Uncle Carl wishes his little girl a Happy New Year with many, many, blessings.) that my life had hardly been worth the living. Again I have felt that much had been done the progress made very satis- factory. To-night I have rather a feeling of quiet satisfaction, but I am sad rather than elated. It seems to me that I have done some little for the world. Some evils have been lessened, some lives made happier, some opportunities opened for worthy workers. For myself I have done but little, though I can feel myself somewhat stronger mentally, and I can see that the weaknesses in regard to the duties of life, to which I am prone, have not been so numer- ous as some years have shown. On the whole, while I have not done anywhere near as much as I could and should have done, yet strength has been mine to do more that I feared I should be able to accomplish when the year opened. (See what an egotist your Uncle is; I wonder if you understand him.) But, perhaps the chief source of my satisfaction to-night lies with reference to yourself. I am vastly proud of my little girl. And as I have seen you, and noted 296 UNCLE CARL the unfolding of your higher self, seen the strength- ening of what I believe to be an innately pure char- acter, and watched the play of those indefinable little graces that come with growing womanhood, I am proud and happy that, in some small measure, it has been my privilege to help you a little way on the journey. There is a certain sadness mingled with my satisfaction. A sadness for the knowledge that all of this growth of yours may soon pass away from me. That perhaps only a little while longer will it be my privilege to help you onward. Yet, I hope that not for several years; not until your character has reached its fully developed strength, will you be pledged to another ; for then another must take your Uncle's place and privileges, and his joy will be one of memory only. Hence the sadness ; but it is of the future. To-night I am glad and grateful with a heart full of love for Laura. I will not mail this to-morrow (or rather to-day) as I shall want to enclose a check Saturday, and will hold it open until then. So will say good-night and go to bed to dream of ? Friday evening. Here we are again. Your letter came this morn- ing. I am very sorry to learn of the mother's indis- position, and hope that it will soon pass. Extend to her my greeting for the New Year and tell her I wish for her that prosperity and happiness may follow her through the coming twelve months. I hope and believe that you can feel a clean con- tent as you look over the last year. It seems to me that it cannot be otherwise. Still, if you cannot, you must make up for it this year; for you, in such case, have deceived Uncle Carl. I don't mean in your studies, but in character. From what I have seen I UNCLE CARL 297 believe in you ; and if I have seen signs that are false lights it rests with you to raise the proper signals. Do you know, Laura, what my religion is? I doubt it, but will tell you. It is ' 'Sincerity." That word is the whole foundation and fabric of my creed. All of the furniture of the house must be constructed with honesty of purpose. The air must breathe fidelity. Sincerity, inside and out, with self and with others in thought, word and deed. That is my religion; and if all people were sincere in everything, evil could not abound, because misunderstandings could not exist, and the evil would be seen and killed. I do not mean to pose, however. That is my creed. We all have creeds; but while we all strive, or should strive, to live more and more in accordance with our ideals, yet we all fall short. We should not strive the less because we cannot reach the ideal, but endeavor to more and more nearly approximate our highest con- ceptions each year. So your old Uncle does not claim perfection by any means, but only tells you what is, to my mind, the highest ideal; i. e., Sincerity, or Truth. Perhaps I may some time illustrate what I mean, by giving you a sacred page in my life's his- tory; but a very sad one. Do you want to hear it? Am off now. Many, many flowers for my dear little girl. UNCLE CARL. P. S. Here is something else I want to say. While in H I told you I wanted to hear from you each week whether I wrote or not. Of course, you, like myself, have sometimes too much work; are tired; "out of sorts," or not in the mood for writing; and you then have the same right that I have not to write. The thought that I meant to con- 298 UNCLE CARL vey was, in friendship there is no accounting. I want you to write to me only because you like to talk to me; and I want you to write every time you want to talk to me. I do the same. An exact exchange should never be considered, for friendship is not, should not be, dependent upon a debit and a credit account. Do I make it clear to you? UNCLE CARL. (The following letter accompanied a manuscript written by Carl Englewood, which we have made use of in forming the first chapter of this volume ; which see.) Kaloma, M , January 10. To Miss Laura Brentford, V , M . Greeting. Dear little Girl : You may as well seat yourself in the most comfort- able manner possible, for you have a long task before you; a mass of writing to wade through; before starting which I wish to give a few words by way of explanation. Some years ago I wanted to illustrate a certain point to a pupil of mine, and the enclosed paper was written for that purpose. But having written it, I did not use it; for it seemed to me to be too sacred a thing; too sad, and too real for me to share it with any one. It is now given to you, and I need not say that I trust you to keep it as a something not lightly given, nor lightly to be used. With the exception of "Irene" and "Carl" the names are fictitious for obvious reasons. You will find much that the non- understanding or unsympathetic would call "slush"; UNCLE CARL 299 but I endeavored to recall every word, every thought, of that very hard day, and I think that you can understand and will not think of it lightly. Under- stand, too, that I do not intend it to be in any sense a discussion of "religious ethics" so far as you are concerned. The words spoken were uttered many years ago; the scenes are given you as an illustra- tion of what your old "Uncle" means by "sin- cerity," and because you wished it. If "Carl's" character seems, in the light of the fact that I have written of myself, somewhat boastful, try to be just to me. I do not mean to set myself up as a pattern. But the sincere man knows himself. Sincerity being my ideal, I would be lacking in self-respect did I not strive to live in accordance with it. With this striv- ing I must be conscious of my degree of success or failure. I think that I have not exaggerated my strength in this respect. That Irene and her mother had, perhaps, a too high view of my character is probable; yet that the day's record might be faith- fully rendered it was necessary to give their exact words. How highly esteemed I was may be inferred from the fact that I was outside the pale of church doctrine, while the father was pastor of an old-school Eastern Presbyterian church; and yet I was received as a prospective son-in-law. This whole "sermon," Laura, is to show you what deep stress I lay upon my belief in the "first duty of man" (i. e., Sincerity). While not all truth should be spoken at all times, because it might not be under- stood, and to misunderstand truth is as bad as to believe a falsehood, yet I hold that a lie, thought, spoken, or acted, is never justifiable. I cannot con- ceive a position in which I can be placed where the truth could be harder to speak than in my illustra- 300 UNCLE CARL tion, nor where it could come nearer justification to tell or act the white lie. Yet, because my little girl understood, I believe that she died in greater peace, and certainly with more respect for me than the acquiescence in her wish could have produced. If any case could occur where the emotions of the hour could justly govern, then there was the case. But that brings up another point, i. e. One's judgments should be made during moments of calm whenever possible. With clear-headed, conscientious study and reason should vital questions be considered and judgments reached; and then they should be held to even when, in moments of emotion, there seems to be reason for a change of opinion. It is just for such reasons that I am emphatically op- posed to so-called "revivals" in church and other work. Decisions are then made and promises given, under stress of excitement, which would not be given in cooler moments. Enthusiasm is all right, is necessary for progress; but calm, cool reason and judgment should precede it. I do not know that I make you understand fully my position in this matter, but I have done the best I can. I do not know that you agree with me either, but that need not matter. I do not care particularly whether other people think as I do, or reach the same conclusions in all cases. What I do care about is absolute honesty. So long as a person is thor- oughly honest, "sincere," and has the courage of con- viction, I respect and highly esteem him or her. Deception of self or of others I detest. Now, Laura, it is no more than fair that you should do something for me and for yourself. You know that in philosophy, after due study and thought, UNCLE CARL 301 the scholar embodies his conclusions in one terse, concise statement. Spencer said, "Truth is the agree- ment between the objective order of phenomena and the subjective order of thought." Another said, "Honor is the conduct of life in perfect accord with the dictates of a pure conscience" ; and again, "No- bility of soul is that quality of man's nature, whereby he more or less clearly conceives and steadfastly seeks to accomplish his full duty." These are just samples. I want you to embody, in like brief manner, your own conception of our text, "Sincerity." It need not necessarily be my belief; but it should be your own. I have epitomized my own conception, years ago; and I would be interested in the comparison. Do not say, "I can't, Uncle Carl," for I know that you can. My "experience" I would prefer to have de- stroyed, but do with it as you will. Not every one could begin to understand, and I therefore do not want it to fall into the hands of any one who would make light of such a page of my life's history. No one but you has ever been given this light. "Sermon" is over. But I have no news to write. You will find in a small envelope the picture you de- sired. Never use paste or glue when putting a picture in a watch. Cut the picture the size of the full diameter of the case, and press it in so that the edge of the picture springs under the inner edge of the rim of the lid. Paste ruins the picture when the case is cleaned, and does not hold it as securely as the above method. Affectionately yours, UNCLE CARL. 302 UNCLE CARL Kaloma, M ., February 2ist. To Miss Laura Brentford, V M . * i Greeting. Dear little Girl: "Night drew her sable mantle down and pinned it with a star." The day for me has been a very quiet one. I have accomplished nothing save a goodly rest; and as there is a dearth of news and nothing special for you to be scolded for, I am afraid that you will have to wade through dry- ness as usual. A drought is a good thing at the proper time, in some particulars; but as a "steady diet" it becomes monotonous. I have been sitting at the window looking up at the myriad stars with which night's "sable mantle" is secured, and Uncle Carl's thoughts have been wool-gathering. The growing darkness first suggested that old "Excel- sior" "The shades of night were falling fast, When through an Alpine village, passed A youth ; who bore 'mid snow and ice, A banner with this strange device, Excelsior," and with the thoughts springing from that suggestion your letter will be filled. (Better light the fire with it first; 'twill save time.) Every earnest man and woman starts out in life with the ambition to excel, in some particular line or lines, the average standing of mankind. Some, having special talents, excel in art; others, in litera- ture; others, in music; others, in science. Many seek for material riches and power. Some desire to reach the highest position in government; and it is early instilled into our minds that we may fill the UNCLE CARL 303 Presidential chair. In fact, in our younger, opti- mistic years, we start out in life with the resolution expressed by "Pat" in his version of our text, " 'Twas growing dark so tirrabul f asht Whin through the town, up the mountain there pashed A broth of a bye to his neck in the schnow; And as he walked his shillelah he swung to and fro Saying, 'it's up till the very tip top I will go, Be jabbers!' " And this ambition is ever a commendable one. Its fostering, however, is often productive of evil; as when one becomes so imbued with the selfish desire for wealth, or power, or influence, that he makes use of means to that end which wrong a fellow-man. Every man should make the most of his opportunities and talents to rise in the world, provided his pur- pose is to use his position and power to advance the general welfare. No man has the right to make stepping-stones of his fellows when by so doing he crushes his fellow into the mire. There has been, there can be, no better precept to carry in mind as we progress than the so-called "Golden Rule." That is the first, the intermediate and the last stepping- stone upon which one may pass to the ideal of per- fect manhood and womanhood. Other stepping- stones there are in the world by which one may suc- ceed in some measure; but without the "Golden Rule" the heights of a pure, altruistic hedonism; the perfect manhood; the "Excelsior" of private and public life cannot be attained. As we take the various steps in our progress through life, we find the way bounded by other pre- cepts living rocks of principle; but all mere de- tails of the great central rock of the "Rule." Just fragments ; but each fragment itself a stepping-stone. 304 UNCLE CARL Rocks of Friendship; of Truth; of Patience and Perseverance, of Love; of Temperance; of Benevo- lence; the Rule contains them all. And as we see them, as precepts they mean much; but exemplified in the lives of our fellows and of ourselves, they be- come living principles which must in their influence make us all more worthy. We all admire the man who accomplishes great things. Admire his strength, his ability, his perseverance; though his motives, his inner self may be unworthy. No doubt we would ad- mire the rose for its beauty and symmetry, even with- out its fragrance. But the fragrance adds so much to the flower that, if we must choose between the beauty to the sight and the fragrance, I think that we would all choose the latter. And so in accom- plishment; it is the "Golden Rule" that gives all of the fragrance to the life of effort. The knowledge of its constant operation is necessary to all real happi- ness; without it no man or woman can ever truly cry at last, "Excelsior." As the darky would say, "I have conflaberated my cerebellum"; or in the words of the divine poet, "I have busted my thinker," and both you and I are glad of it. I have a wee flower to throw to my little girl to- night. Last week Mrs. X. W. came into my office and said, in effect, "Mr. Englewood, you used to be so interested in Laura Brentford that I know you will be glad to know about her. I was at V last week and with the girls at the same house with Laura. She has grown to be a very sweet little lady, and is one of the most popular girls in V . Every one speaks so well of her; and it has been a fine thing that her mother can keep her in V . She is a good girl ; too good to keep. Some young man will UNCLE CARL 305 walk off with her before long, and she can look high, too." And considerable more in the same line. I have not given the talk verbatim, but you have the tenor of it; and I have not the least fear that the odor of the flowers will make you dizzy. I have great faith in you, Laura. Keep pure, unselfish, sweet, and progressive. If I should ever know of your getting the "big head" in any degree, I would feel that a very dark cloud had come over the sun. That "if," however, I consider an impossibility. How do you like the odor of tobacco smoke? This is the seventh time I have smoked this year. I am afraid I must begin again though, or else I will have to have some larger clothing. I weigh 169 Ibs. How is that for a lump of sugar? Good-night. UNCLE CARL. Kaloma, M , February 28th. To Miss Laura Brentford, V , M . Greeting. Dear Youngster: I have no news to write to- night, nothing much in mind to tell you. Perhaps before I go- far something will come to me, but there is no telling what it will be. I'll read over your last welcome letter and see what it may suggest. It was good of you to write to "His Loneliness" twice last week. I thank you. Your little greetings cannot come too often. There are three things suggested in your last and I will take them in order. First: I am certain that you did not send receipt for the last "tin-pan" payment. No harm done, but 20 306 UNCLE CARL better get a duplicate and send it along with the next one. Second: You say that you "hate war" and yet you "force yourself to wade through details of war." That is not necessary. It is wise to know the causes which are the basis of war; to keep track of its progress so far as is necessary in order to understand peoples and government; but, unless one is to make war a profession, it is not only unnecessary but waste- ful to devote time to the study of the harrowing de- tails. This is true of all reading of public events. I rarely read the details of war, of crime, or any other events with which I am not in sympathy. But still, one should keep so in touch with contempora- neous history as to be able to speak intelligently, and, if necessary, act potently when the time for our use- fulness arrives. In all great questions we should know the "why," in many we should knew the "how," but in very few is it necessary to enter into a knowl- edge of sordid detail unless we are to be active par- ticipants on the scene of action. Thirdly : Your letter has a sin of omission. I tell you, youngster, it is time you supplied some of your Uncle Carl's deficiencies. I rarely write you with- out leaving a great deal unsaid; but some way you never seem to say for me what I should have put in ; and I guess that this "thirdly" will be the text for a sermon. We will call it "Love." (Here, here, here! Pull that nose down again; there is no occa- sion for such a face.) There is nothing in the "Golden Rule" that speaks of love directly; but as I used it in connection with "Excelsior," love of the highest type is an imperative consideration. The deeds commanded by the "Golden Rule" may be scrupulously performed, and yet the pinnacle from UNCLE CARL 307 which the cry of "Excelsior" may be heard, be never reached. It is the impelling force which causes us to exemplify the "Rule" which must determine the heights to be reached in the Kingdom of Happiness; and you didn't say one word about Uncle Carl leav- ing out the very kernel of the truth which he tried to ramble about, i. e., "Motive" Motive is the very soul of every deed, good or evil; and Love must be the motive force behind the "Golden Rule," if that rule is to elevate one. Hence I am going to talk about "Love" ; and yet, it is the large love, not the contracted one, which I am to speak of. Not that early, youthful love; that passion for one of the opposite sex which springs up in the hearts of the young and inexperienced, and which gives to life and to the world the richest rainbow hues of joy and promise. But rather, that large, confident love, calm and earnest, which covers a multitude of individuals, and seeks the highest good of all instead of two. And yet I apprehend that he who has not felt that young passion is forever unable to comprehend in its fullness the equally strong affection which enriches the life of maturer years. It is probable that you have not felt this. It may not come to you for years ; but some time it will come to you, and then you will understand better what I write now. Most people of mature years have passed through this joyful ex- perience (and I am very, very sorry for those who have not) , and as they look back upon those months which were fraught with such joy; as they see them- selves emerging from the walls of selfishness which they had built around themselves, and within which they had planned and studied and wrought for ends that were to redound to their own selfish honor and glory; called forth by the idealized radiance of one 3 o8 UNCLE CARL who was all-in-all to the heart of each ; seeing in the light of their own happiness and enthusiasm a world of humanity about them, all with the same human traits and desires, yet alas! so many surrounded by coldness and sorrow and hatred; realizing more and more that each is an integral part of the great pul- sating heart of humanity; they must, if they be true men and women, feel themselves grow, and enlarge, and yearn for the opportunity to help others to a realization of the same happiness which they enjoyed. The consummation of my own happiness, as you know, was denied to your old Uncle; yet I feel, / know, that had it not been for that early experience, I had never known what love, in its highest sense, means. This love of which I speak is not that which causes one to long for physical caresses. Indeed, caresses, save as they speak of the soul, are rarely indulged in. The love which uses the "Golden Rule" as a measure is too far-reaching for that; yet it is the same in kind, only grown larger. The fierce, passionate love for the individual would destroy the life if burned for many; but the individual fire may be is sufficient, as a sun, to cast rays of light into other lives. Rays whose heat is tempered by distance so that they warm but do not scorch. It was Emerson who wrote, "Love is a fire, that, kindling its first embers in the narrow nook of a pri- vate bosom, caught from a wandering spark out of another private heart, grows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world and all nature with its generous flames." Yes, one must have felt the pleasures and pains of that earlier passionate love, in order to feel that UNCLE CARL 309 broader, more helpful, and unselfish affection which humanity demands, and of which the Giver of the "Golden Rule" was the personification. When the "Master" is spoken of as our "loving Elder Brother," we understand love to mean, not a pas- sionate longing for physical communion, but rather a strong affection for those higher, spiritual, or intel- lectual attributes of man, common to us all; and an earnest, active longing to assist in bringing those attributes to their highest beauty. And so should our feeling for humanity be. Our affection, our love, should be for the higher self. We see in others high capacities for enjoyment and helpfulness. We are bound by the ties of common humanity ; as members of the "Brotherhood of Man" it should be our aim to assist each one over whom we have influence to approximate more and more nearly that perfect love the love of soul for soul. In this sense there is no such consideration as sex; no thought of physi- cal contact, and any enjoyment to spring therefrom; no desire for possession; no hunger for exclusive use. But it experiences a joy in every step upward. It is a grand, unselfish, energetic, willing and doing the most one can to increase the sum total of human happiness. It is an ideal conception of "Peace on earth, good will toward man" put into action and made the means of spiritual and intellectual growth. And this is my conception of the fundamental principle which must underlie the "Golden Rule," if they who adopt that rule would cry at the end, "Ex- celsior." And, if my conception is right, then we should certainly strive each day to be more and more earnest in scattering abroad the flowers of Love; a love which and I again quote from Emerson "knows not sex, nor person, nor partiality; but which 310 UNCLE CARL seeks virtue and wisdom everywhere, to the end of increasing virtue and wisdom." Later: [Written with a pencil.] It is a lucky thing for you that my fountain pen ran dry. Had it not done so I might have drowned you in a flood of ink. Though I believe that you do like letters, as you say you do, which are exponents of my inner convictions, or, as we call them, "ser- mons," I am afraid that this one is too long and prosy. Yet you may now experience the joy of con- trast. Laugh, will you, and say, "Thank you for having stopped at last." I am very sorry about the mother. Let her rest as much and as long as possible. Tell her I will try to write her during the week. Love to everybody, UNCLE CARL. Kaloma, M , March 6th. To Miss Laura Brentford, V , M . Greeting. "We make a ladder of our thoughts where angels step, but sleep ourselves at the foot." Dear Girlie: Last week, when I had written one of my usual crude "sermons," I thought, now for a while I am not going to preach to my little girl any more. My dry old moralizings may do for a time, but they must be very tiresome and give one the dys- pepsia as a steady diet. Your last letter, however, makes it seem wise to me to add one more prosy mess. Not to advise, not especially to influence ; but rather to suggest, and drive away a cloudlet or so of mist. UNCLE CARL 311 First, you start out with the mention of a girl friend whose thoughts had impressed you, but who failed to exemplify her ideals when you thought she should have done so. I think, perhaps, that the text I have chosen (see the beginning of this letter) will in some measure fit the case. We all have our ideals, our highest conceptions of right and duty, but who has ever realized them in every particular. We should have them. We should ever endeavor to draw nearer to them. We should discuss them with the understanding friends. But we are all faulty in one way or another, and often fall far short of the perfect. We often condemn others, without knowing what provocation, real or imaginary, has been given ; or what particular weak- ness has been so nourished in early life as to leave it impossible to at all times persevere in pursuit of the ideal. And we often do things which are equally culpable and refuse to condemn self. Indeed, we are prone to make specious excuses, to cheat self into a belief that we have not transgressed the law. Do not judge the girl too harshly. If she has been weak, help her to be strong. That she has high ideals shows that there is the good foundation ; help her you to build more solidly on that foundation, and by so doing help yourself to become a more nearly perfect architect of your own life-building. You speak regretfully of just "beginning to get your eyes opened" to the universal masquerading of humanity; and it is something to grieve over. Yet you will in time become tolerant of evil, while not condoning it. I used to have my conception of the perfect human character, and thought that some time I would find it. I have been asked if I ever expected to find my ideal, and have answered, "Yes." That 3 i2 UNCLE CARL was many years ago. If I were asked the same ques- tion to-day, I would answer, "I have found it" ; and in time you will find it, but it will never be found in any one individual unless your ideal is very limited. Let me illustrate : When you began to study music as a child I will warrant that you felt as if you had a monumental task before you; perhaps almost insurmountable. After a time you were able to play a rich chord here and there, and later to play pieces of music through ; and then, did you not feel as if you knew about all there was to know about music, and that all you needed to make you a fine musician was practice? But later, you went to your present home ; you began higher studies; and now you find in the studies of harmony a grander, richer field than you had ever suspected. Is it not so? There is the student of philosophy I speak with knowledge here, for I have been somewhat of a stu- dent in that line myself. When I first began to read philosophy it was hard. It seemed as if the knowl- edge given, even for a beginner, was altogether too deep. I persevered, and when I had studied for a few years I thought that, with my grasp of the "nebular hypothesis," and numerous fundamental laws, I knew about all there was to know in phi- losophy, except, perhaps, a few unimportant details. It seemed as if all was a hard, dry system of facts; and at the age of twenty-one I considered that I was a very important factor in the world; in fact, it seemed to me that the universe could hardly get along unless I wiggled my tongue so that the "powers that be" might know how to run it. But I grew. I studied more, and new fields opened before me; the horizon enlarged and receded, and now now I can UNCLE CARL 313 just begin to hear, afar off, the grand, rich harmonies of the "music of the spheres"; and just one rich chord of that music is grander to my comprehension than all of the knowledge which seemed to me so im- mense fifteen years ago. Even as to you the chords and combinations of melody which you comprehend in your advanced studies of harmony, seem so much higher and grander than what you thought you knew a few years ago. And so it is in the study of humanity. In the beginning we look with some won- der at the knowledge manifested by our elders. We grow and observe, and finally think that we know human nature. We begin sometimes to wonder if such a thing as perfection is anywhere. One after another our friends show a streak of darkness in the character, and we say, "Our eyes are beginning to open. None is perfect. There is not, there cannot be a human ideal." But we live on and still observe, and after a time we learn to take the evil as neces- sary, as something that we cannot altogether avoid; and, if we are true, we begin to look for the good in each individual; and at last we can cry, "I have found my ideal. In the 'brotherhood of man,' in the great throbbing heart of humanity as a whole, I find every grace, every beauty; every holy, sympa- thetic, loving beauty. From this ideal I hear the grand harmonies of the Eternal Good." "There is no music in a rest that I know of, but there is the making of music in it," said Ruskin; and although evil is evil under any and all circumstances, yet by its contrast it serves as a "rest," and enables us to better apprehend the beauties and grandeur of the chords to follow. And now, girlie, to the "secondly." You wanted me to write you "something nice" about the "dead 314 UNCLE CARL secret" you told me of. I am afraid that I cannot do it. On such a topic the words of the elders are, seemingly, seldom wholly "nice" to the young; and yet I must say something, and I trust you to find my heart in it. I thank you for the confidence, although it is a state of affairs that does not altogether sur- prise me. What I have to say in connection with it is neither command, nor advice, nor request. But I shall try to suggest something, perhaps; maybe awaken some memory, and trust you to do the right thing. It is largely because I felt, rather than saw, this event, that I have during the past year preached so many "sermons." Thoughts that were part of my own heart, events of my own life, suggestions that I hoped would give you strength and development, I have given you in a short year or so when ordinarily I would have stretched them over a half decade. I wonder what fruit they will bear? The seeds I sought to plant were "conscientiousness," "patient thought," "absolute sincerity," and ''courage of con- viction." Though Mr. C were the "perfect ideal," I would yet disapprove of your engagement at this time. As you have said, "you are willing to wait years." Promises of affection, etc., may be all right, the mother knows best; but you are both young and neither should be bound by promise of marriage or "an engagement." If the love continues the en- gagement may be made and announced when the time for the consummation can be accurately fixed. I am not pleased to think that an "announcement" should be even considered under present conditions, nor while either of you is a student. Understand me, dear, I am not selfish in this (I think that you have had some proof that I look only for your good and happiness) ; but look at your own admissions, in your UNCLE CARL 315 last letter. You thought that you were a good judge of human nature, but, as you say, you "are just be- ginning to get your eyes opened." You have not even reached the stage where you are a fairly good judge of the inner character. Words are easily spoken, but remember that "Words are but leaves; deeds are fruits." Yet, while you have been willing to condemn the girl friend for her "slip," you say you have known Mr. C "over a year," and that "you know him." You do not! I hope that he is all that you think him to be, but it is not necessary to be "engaged" to him; and if he is true, and worthy of you, the engagement or non- engagement will make no difference. I don't know his age, but I do know yours. I know that you think that you are "older than you seem," that you have "older thoughts" than the average girl of your age; and I also know that you are not one bit "older" than the average, and that you are just beginning to see life as it is; to develop higher, clearer thoughts and ambitions ; and also that the next three or four years are the ones which will be full of changes and growth; and that the compass needle will be sorely tried before you have laid down the course which your boat shall follow. I want you to be free during this time. I believe it to be better for you. And now, again, I want to suggest something else. You are to decide as to whither your duty shall direct you, and whether your "courage of conviction" will carry you on your way. Some years ago a little girl sat on my knee in my office (for almost the last time) and said, "Oh, Uncle Carl, I just want to learn to do something where I can earn money, so that I can do for mamma when I get big. She is just doing so 316 UNCLE CARL much for me and I am just spoiling to help her." Dear little girl! There spake the true, affectionate, sympathetic heart. I believe in that heart; and it was just such evidences as this which led Uncle to try to so arrange things as that the cherished wish might be fulfilled. The development of character was the main object, because in the higher development of such characteristics lay the highest happiness. The secondary object, education, is only the means to the end. You may be looking forward to the time when you will have a home of your own, which the mother shall share; but a home furnished by him. Laura, if you should devote the next few years to the mother; work, shield, build and establish, with her, a home which shall be her own, and from which she could let her heart go out to you in your home, you would be doing ? it is for you to decide. The mother wishes nothing so much as your perfect happiness. She will never lose sight of nor neglect you while her life lasts. She may advise you contrary to what I suggest, but on this question decide for yourself. You have had so much done for you, so many years has that loving woman labored for you, that even though she might wish to sacrifice more, and still more, yet I feel sure that some sacrifice from you for love and duty will gladden and cause your mother's heart to swell with pride. Your own highest happi- ness is at stake in deciding these questions. I advise nothing. / trust you. Forgive me, dear, and still trust your old Uncle's heart. I have no objection to your showing this to Mr. C . If he is all that you think that he is; if he is worthy of my little girl, I am not afraid of his answer. UNCLE CARL 317 I have taken my pipe again, and have been "seeing things." I have through the smoke been looking down into that secret chamber in Uncle's heart, where slumbers that dear one whose spirit watches for me "at the gate." For years I have been pleased to see you in that chamber; to think of you as sitting beside her, feeling her pure influence and growing to the full beauty of her life's character. The "sermons" which I have written you are such as she would have had given; and in you I had hoped that all that she had hoped and worked for would materialize, except- ing only that union with my own life and work which my advancing years forbid. Oh! Irene, Irene, thy good deeds cannot die. If they have seemed at times to yield no fruit, they shall still be as seeds shut up in the darkness of a sepulchre; and when they are taken from the dead hand of time, years afterward, perhaps, they shall rise in golden grain. Thy har- vest, dear one, shall be great ; and even through the medium of my own lonely heart, I trust that many additional fields of wheat may stand ready for the reaper ! And so good night. The highest, richest and purest of life's joys, may they be yours. Affectionately, UNCLE CARL. "My experience of life makes me sure of one thing, which I do not try to explain ; that the sweetest hap- piness we ever know comes, not from love but from sacrifice; from the effort to make others happy." O'Reilly. 3 i8 UNCLE CARL Kaloma, M , September loth. To Miss Laura Brentford, V , M . Greeting. Dear Laura : I think that I will give you a little "song and dance" before retiring. Have had a busy day, a long walk, and am not in just the mood for reading, so will give you a "sermon" instead. I presume that you have recovered your wonted courage ere this, yet your last message gives some food for thought. I can perhaps sympathize with you in some measure in your feeling in regard to your misplaced affection; or, rather, in the affection which had no commensurate return. I do not, however, tell you as you said you supposed I would, "to forget him." Rather, remember him; but let it be a mem- ory of a "has been" joy, not as a thing to be longed for now. You have some purposes in life, I believe; but what you need more than anything else just now is a great, all-absorbing purpose for the distant future. A real and a high goal of a definite nature. Not a purpose for immediate accomplishment, but one whose consummation will take years; perhaps many years. A purpose to be dwelt upon; lived for. A purpose that, when tired or blue, may draw your mind to itself and shed light and comfort for you, and in which you may lose yourself to the utter for- getfulness of petty trials of to-day. With this great aim in view the transient evils will seem less, much less; while such pleasures as come to you can be en- joyed in their fullness. And while you keep working for and toward the future good, you will be able, in memory, to look upon past joys, to feel them again, UNCLE CARL 319 even as you recall the fragrance of some long-faded flower. But it is not well to regret and long for the past joys. The faded flower will never bloom again. Take pleasure in memory's flowers if you can, but do not let the withered joys that have been, so cloud your present that you cannot nurture new plants; plants, perhaps not so fragrant of bloom as the past, but still having a glory of their own well worth the price of labor. And then, in your weariness, you ask the startling question, "What is the use of having ideals," etc., etc., "And why? and why? and why?" Don't do that again. You didn't half mean it, and it is over now; but don't do it again. Go and read Olive Shreiner's "Dream of Truth" again. Read it care- fully, and then ask yourself if the search for Truth, the ideal Truth, was not amply repaid when, at the end of all, a single white feather floated gently down to rest with the way-worn searcher. Learn to distinguish between Ideal and Purpose. You will never realize the ideal either in yourself or in any other individual. You may draw ever nearer and nearer your ideal if you will, and you may find it in humanity as a whole if you will look for it; but you will find it only in small portions, scattered here and there in a multitude of individuals. You say that you cannot "express your ideal, even to yourself." That is true, and the reason is simple, to me ; but as it is one of my own blundering reasons, I don't know that I can make it clear to you. The "ideal" is our endeavored conception of the perfect good. Sin is its opposite. If you cannot de- fine your ideal clearly, you can define its opposite. No man is perfect; all have sinned. Indeed, I can conceive that it is a sin to have not sinned, because 320 UNCLE CARL one cannot understand that which one has had no experience of; and only by having sinned can one grasp with understanding the evils of life, and per- form intelligently one's full duty in striving to elimi- nate as much as possible the influences of the "Imps of Darkness." ("It is in the presence of evil that man finds his duties and his soul its progress."- Bul- wer.) The Ideal, being the perfect good, you cannot define because you have not been perfect. Having sinned, you are in position to define sin, and to know what to strive against in order to approximate more and more nearly the perfection of life, or the Ideal. You ask various "whys?" but I think that I have "preached" enough for this time. (Do not misun- derstand me in the underlined words about sin. I do not mean to suggest that any one has the right to de- liberately sin. My thought was only of the immut- able laws of Nature.) And while you are puzzling your tired brain for answers to some of your queries, remember that it is not necessary to answer them. What is the use of trying to find out "what eternity is" when you do not begin to understand the present; nor what your "ideals are for" when you don't know yet that what you think is your ideal is really such. Just try to understand what is knowable and do not try to fathom mysteries which are infinite. "Live for those that love you; For those that love you true; For the evils that lie around you And await your action too. For the cause that lacks assistance; For the wrongs that need resistance, For the future in the distance, And the good that you can do." I have changed a few words in the above to ex- UNCLE CARL 321 press special thoughts. Suppose you commit it to memory and "illustrate it" in your life for your af- fectionate old UNCLE CARL. Discuss some of these thoughts with your room- mate. Between you, you should be able to get up an argument that will spoil my ground, and at the same time give you new light. And, again, try to feel glad that the other girls can enjoy their callers, instead of feeling sorry because you cannot. Kaloma, M , March I3th. To Miss Laura Brentford, V- , M . Greeting. Dear Laura : "I have decided that a college educa- tion is of no earthly use without health. That is my final decision. I have thought and thank and thunk, and that is what I truly think. Without health you can't do a thing that the college education is for." In a long, laborious life I have met with many dis- appointments. I do not recall any save my one great personal loss that has been so full of regret to me as when I read the above lines from your pen. I am at a loss to conceive how you could reach such a conclusion, unless it be that your idea of the "pur- pose of a college education" is the very narrow and sordid one that it is to fit one for a profession of which the object is personal aggrandizement of money, position, or power. Yet, even in that narrow sense, I can hardly see the logic of your position ; for if one must earn a living, be the health good or 21 322 UNCLE CARL poor, certainly the field for effort is enlarged by the education. I had thought that you understood bet- ter why I was desirous that you should be where you are. Evidently you did not know that; neither do you seem to grasp for yourself a high conception of your opportunities and ultimate benefits. If simple financial success had been the only object, I would have left you to accept some position as a clerk, or stenographer, or perhaps a factory girl ; as I do not and have never thought that you would make any large amount of money out of your music. Certainly not enough to warrant my own large outlay, and your four years of non-productive life. Nor was it simply to give you a "good time" to look back upon in future years. That would not be justified when there are so many sorrows that the means I send to you could materially lessen. What then is an education for, and what my purpose in helping you to get it? The average person looks upon education as, pri- marily, an enhancement of power to strive with the world for material success. College education is only the highest layer of stone in the foundation of the life-structure; the real building comes later. College education gives the theory; contact with the world, the practical application of life-work. But there is something more much more of value in the col- lege education than the mere making of money. The chief value of all education is to increase human hap- piness, both for others and for self. In the higher education of college life one learns how to reach out for the best that is in life; gains intelligence of the working of various laws governing the special courses adopted. It may be that "botany" is one of the studies. The student lays the foundation for future character building, and through all the years to come UNCLE CARL 323 his knowledge will increase his value to the world, and pleasure to himself "in health" ; and will in large measure nullify his pain, will teach him patience, will cause him to yield a goodly influence in "ill" health. Your own music ! You have laid the foundation for a joy for yourself that no amount of ill-health can utterly destroy. Try to imagine yourself as racked with pain; a hopeless invalid; always dependent. Imagine, also, that you have no more musical knowl- edge than I have, or than you had when you left Kaloma (and, of course, that you also have had no higher education in any other college course) . Your life would be a long misery, would it not? People might play on the piano for you, and you would tire of it. You would have little to occupy your mind but your own unfortunate physical condition. Now change the scene. See yourself in the same ill-health, but with an advanced knowledge in your chosen work. Your mind is filled with great musical har- monies. A master appears and you gain a grand joy from his playing. You see long vistas of beauty that, to poor, ignorant me is only a dense fog. If your education is carried out as it should be you will be lifted out of yourself; forget your petty pains and aches and sorrows; and lose yourself in those grand- est, highest, most glorious harmonies, the "music of the spheres." And ordinary mortals will look at you and think, "What a great soul is there," and you will be patient because of your higher knowledge; and unless crippled, you will be able to make some of the music on the piano yourself, at times; and, if crip- pled, you will yet be able to impart something of your higher knowledge to others; and if bed-ridden and voiceless you will yet pour out the music of your soul through your eyes. And none of this music 3 2 4 UNCLE CARL would lighten your ignorant days, nor help you to add joy to your faithful friends, were it not for the higher education. Of course, it is better generally that health should be ours, to accomplish the greatest results; but your words were "a college education is of no earthly use without health." / say that if ill-health is a necessity there is nothing that can so help one to bear it as a high education; a thoroughly good education in a chosen, congenial line. And let it not be forgotten that some of the greatest accomplishments of man have been by those in ill-health. Literature, science; aye, you can doubtless recall one of your own master- composers whose life was one of pain; and some- times that very pain is the cause of great results. As Bulwer has said, "It is in the presence of evil that man finds his duties and his soul its progress. Let me be a bit personal. I am not very much of a man myself; not a great man, certainly; yet I have accomplished some few good things. For over four- teen years (from seven to twenty-one years of age) I did not know what it was to be free from pain, often intense. I had not a college education, but my de- sires were as strong as if they had been stimulated by the knowledge of such a foundation under me. Dur- ing these years I pursued my work steadily. My strongest principles of life were formulated and es- tablished. I learned patience and endurance. My philosophy in fundamentals became clearer, and I was often lifted out of and above my petty self as I grasped new truths, as I saw rather than heard the "music of the spheres." And through it all I was able to do my duties in life, adding something to the happiness of others and, I hope, not increasing sor- row. I believe, in all sincerity, that had it not been UNCLE CARL 325 for these years of ill-health I would not have been anywhere near the man I am to-day. And if I was able to build up my life under such conditions, how much more could I have done had I had your oppor- tunities. No, Laura, the best use for college education is "character building." A building that will be true and beautiful in both good and ill health. And if it does not do this it is indeed valueless ; and I shall be very sorry, if you still feel as your letter stated, that I have denied myself to place you where the chief value is so little appreciated or comprehended. Say that your letter was a mistake. I could fill a score of pages on this subject, but I guess I have said enough. Do not think that my affection is any the less. It is not that; only my ability is so limited that I like to feel that my every effort in giving to others what was denied me, shall be wisely given, and ac- complish results for the betterment of the world. With love, UNCLE CARL. CHAPTER XXIX Carl Englewood sat in the balcony of his hotel en- joying an after-dinner cigar. It was a beautiful day in mid-summer. The extreme warmth of the season was tempered by a cooling breeze from grand old Lake Michigan, whose blue waters he could see glit- tering in the distance. He had been brooding over the disappearance of his ward, Hattie Cramer, and the futility of his search for her. "It is now nearly five years since her disappearance," he thought, "and here I sit supinely, waiting for something to turn up ; utterly impotent to discover her or to get any trace of the hound who was the instrument of her abduc- tion. And meanwhile Stanhope, who has become such an active worker in the political field, is calculat- ing on possession of the property. Himself the prime mover in the girl's disappearance, he, of course, cannot show his hand, though I believe that he has some idea of where she is. It is two years before the estate can be turned over to him, however, and I shall insist upon every hour the law allows be- fore giving him possession. Heighho! how will it all end?" "Hello, you old sinner!" a cordial voice inter- rupted. "Mooning away your time as usual, eh? I should think you would be out playing mumbletipeg or flying kites, or something of that sort such weather as this." "Bless my soul, Courtright!" exclaimed Engle- wood, hastily rising, and clasping his friend's hand. "Who would have expected you? When did you come over?" UNCLE CARL 327 "This morning's boat," replied Courtright. "Had some business to look after first, and now I am here to carry you off. Wife's orders; got to do it." "Well, sit down first," said Carl, "and tell me all about the folks. How are they, and where are they, and what are they doing, and when are they coming over, and " "Hold on, hold on, you blamed interrogation point, give me a chance," said Courtright, as he sat down. "As your friendship was not strong enough to bring you over for a visit in nearly a year, I hardly think that you deserve to have your questions answered." "Oh, you know why that was," said Carl. "I do not feel that I should lose track of Stanhope for long at a time. I believe that, sooner or later, Jenkins will appear here; and I must be on hand when he comes. Besides," he added facetiously, "I'm willing to be forgiven, so hurry up with your news." "I've got to tell you," said Courtright, "because the wife has ordered it. But you don't deserve it, just the same." "Well, out with it, you poor hen-pecked man," said Englewood. "How are they all, where are they all, and what are they all doing, and what special thing have you been ordered to tell me?" " 'Hen-pecked,' is it," snorted Courtright. "If you were hen-pecked a tenth as much you would be a thousand times happier. I tell you that the only life worth living is to be 'hen-pecked,' as you call it, by a thoroughly good woman. That's what you ought to do, my friend," and he placed his hand affectionately on Englewood's shoulder. "Get married, and settle down in a cosy little home of your own. Of course, you couldn't get as good a wife as I have that grade 328 UNCLE CARL only had one in it and I was the lucky man ; but you might easily do almost as well." "I agree with you entirely except your last asser- tion," replied Carl. "But marriage is out of the question with me. I have never felt that I could re- place the little girl I lost so long ago; and besides," with a humorous smile, "I consider that any woman who would be so foolish as to marry me now, would be too foolish for me to marry. I wouldn't want a foolish wife. But this is not following out your orders. What is your news?" "I didn't say that I had any news; only orders," replied the lawyer. "The fact is, that I have pur- chased the Hartwell cottage; a beautiful little sum- mer home some eight miles up the lake shore. The wife and children are all there and settled, and they have fixed up a special room for you ; and my orders are to bring you up there to-night on the boat, and you are to make your home with us until further orders from the commander-in-chief." "But, my friend," expostulated Englewood, "this is indeed very kind, but I cannot accept such a propo- sition. I feel, as you know, that I must be here; not only to be on the watch for Jenkins, but I also have work, much work to do here." "We know all about that," replied Courtright. "We don't expect nor want such a cantankerous galoot as you are to be hanging about all of the time. But we expect you to take the boat up shore each evening, it touches at our dock, stay all night, and you can return on the morning boat, reaching here about seven-thirty. I shall be away much of the time, as my business needs me in Chicago, though I shall be over every Sunday at least; and we expect you to protect my family and keep the bears and elephants UNCLE CARL 329 away during the night. Sundays you are expected to stay all day. Such are my orders and they must be obeyed." "At what hour in the evening does the boat leave here?" asked Carl. "Six-thirty," was the answer, "and you will reach home in time for supper and a romp with the chil- dren before dark. It will be a recreation and a rest for you, and at the same time you will be near enough to Kaloma to keep in touch with affairs." 'I can hardly thank you and your good wife enough for your thoughtfulness, Courtright," said Carl, "and I shall be more than glad to accept your kindness. There will be nights, however, when I shall not be able to go up there, for just now affairs in our local politics are beginning to move; and the Federation, in which I take an active interest, has much to do. But I'll be with your people as often as I can." "Good for you, old fellow!" said the lawyer. "I was afraid you would be stubborn; but I'm mighty glad to find you sensible for once. By the way, speaking of politics, what's doing; anything special?" "About as usual," replied Carl. "It's rather early yet for active work, though the organization keeps in constant touch with events. There will be three tickets in the field this fall, and we will no doubt find satisfactory men to support amongst the regular nominees. We expect that the office of representa- tive, however, will give some trouble. It is probable that the Federation will put an independent candi- date in the field for that office ; though that will not, of course, be decided until after further and decisive developments at the regular conventions of the dif- ferent parties. We shall hold a meeting to-morrow 330 UNCLE CARL to discuss the general situation. It may interest you to know that Stanhope is the corporation candidate for the office and will undoubtedly be nominated by the Democrats. He will be a strong candidate, too, as he will have the backing not only of his party, and the corporation, which is anxious to secure certain concessions at the next term, but we have reason to believe that the machine workers of the Republican party will work for him ; putting a weak nominee on their own ticket as a figure-head, but throwing their influence in favor of the corporation candidate. Of course this may not turn out as planned ; but we are keeping in touch with the game so far as possible, and will be prepared to checkmate them." "You'll need a good man and a strong one, too, to beat that combination," said Courtright. "Have you any one in view?" "No one, at present," said Carl. "There have been several mentioned, but no decisive action will be taken until fall. We will be able to find a fit candi- date if it becomes necessary. By the way, to change the subject, how is the Pheasant mine coming on? I haven't heard about it in some months." "Fine, fine!" said the lawyer. "We have at last got everything in shape; and began active work last week. Have a hundred stamps at work, all machinery paid for, and I expect favorable reports daily. We have enough rich ore in sight to pay divi- dends from the start. That man Stuart is coming out all right, too; he has developed sterling qualities, both as manager and man. We have watched him closely, and I am convinced that his one slip and its detection was a severe enough lesson to prevent him from 'falling from grace' again. He says that if it hadn't been for you he would have been behind the UNCLE CARL 331 bars before this ; but as it is, you made a man of him. He is honest, clean in his methods, and I believe worthy of trust." "I am glad of that," said Englewood, "and hope that your investments will bring you in a goodly profit. But now I must be off, as I have an engage- ment shortly. What are you going to do this after- noon, anything special?" "Yes, I have some legal business to look after," said Courtright. "I'll meet you at the boat this even- ing." "All right, I'll be there. So long," said Carl as the two friends separated, the lawyer to attend court, while Englewood passed the afternoon with his com- mittee discussing the plans for the coming cam- paign. Carl was not himself a very enthusiastic cam- paigner. He had too little tolerance for double-deal- ing. Was too honest to succeed as a public man or as an office-holder. Or, at least, that had been the opinion of many. As the political game has been played in modern times, a man must be ready to yield or conceal principles in order to gain place ; and our friend scorned to do either. To the frequent plea, "You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar," he was wont to reply, "I am not after 'flies,' but men. Those people who must be con- stantly fed with honey, must be patted on the back, and flattered and cajoled before they can be won, are not the valuable, patriotic, conscientious citizens. Nor is it an honor to be elected to public office by them. Were I to be a candidate for office I would consider it no honor to win unless I had with me the unstultified, clean, clear-headed men, rather than the 332 UNCLE CARL 'flies' that buzz about only because of honeyed words." And so he was not particularly energetic in cam- paign work; leaving that to his associates. Yet he did valuable service, and was a decided power with the people. It is one of the great errors of most would-be reformers that they seek to accomplish great results, to erect a magnificent building with poor materials. Human nature, while in the main trending in the right direction, is yet far from per- fect, and one cannot expect from it perfect results. Yet the government must be continued, some progress must be made on the building, and the best use must be made of the materials at hand. The greatest ends cannot be accomplished with imperfect means; and Englewood sought in his quiet way, and as part of his life-work, to assist in so improving the quality of the materials at hand as that in the future they might be used to further the greatest ends; to so exert his influence that he might aid in hastening the day when a man could not be too honest to succeed as a statesman. He was unostentatious in this work ; yet the people of all classes felt his influence, and he was loved by many and respected by all. Though he was often deceived by others in his personal work, denying himself and giving largely of his energy and means only to find that, in many cases, his benevo- lence was unworthily bestowed, he was yet a keen, able judge of men in their relation to the body politic, and rarely erred in his judgment as to their fitness for public duties. He was therefore considered an invaluable addition to the "Civic Federation," whose members often appealed to him for counsel, and whose ultimate decisions were strongly influenced by his opinions. Having concluded the day's work and UNCLE CARL 333 promised to be on hand at the meeting of the full body the following evening, our friend repaired to the wharf, where Courtright met him, and the two friends arrived an hour later at the lawyer's pretty little summer home. It is needless to dwell upon the cordial greeting extended to Englewood. The whole family re- spected and loved him, and he was made to feel that in their home he was not only ever welcome, but that his presence was in some measure necessary to com- plete their happiness. The children still clung to him. To Arthur and Mary, now well on in their teens, bright, interesting young people of goodly promise, he was the prince of good fellows, while little Beatrice still claimed Uncle Carl as her own "chum." Hattie Braton, too, was there; and she had grown to be an exceedingly charming young lady ; and though her greeting of Englewood was as modest as it was cordial, her brown eyes, as she watched him moving about with the family, would have told an interested observer that to her there was no man so good, no man so true, no man so worthy of the highest respect and affection as he. "Well, well, little girl!" he had said, as he greeted her with a hand-clasp, "what a fine young lady you have grown to be. I am proud, too, of the reports that have reached me of you." "Thank you, Mr. Englewood," she answered, flushing with pleasure. "One for whom so much has been done as has fallen to my lot, would be base in- deed if she did not do her best to prove worthy of it all." "We are all proud of Hattie," interrupted Mrs. Courtright, pinching her cheek affectionately, "and we are not afraid of spoiling her by telling her so." 334 UNCLE CARL "Honest commendation spoils none but the very weak or very selfish," said Courtright, "and Hattie is certainly neither. She is so very unselfish, in fact, that I have even known her to insist on our having supper as early as possible to-night so that some great, ugly man like me can have the pleasure of taking her out for a boat ride." "Now, Daddy Courtright, you know that isn't so, you old tease!" said Hattie. "I never said anything of the kind." "Oh, didn't you !" exclaimed the lawyer, laughing. "It must have been a little bird, then, that told me." "I think it was a bird; only it was a big goose- bird," said Hattie. "You know that you planned that yourself, because you said that you knew how Mr. Englewood loved the water." "Ah, ha ! old fellow; I think you have your match here," said Carl. "But I'll spoil your fun by inviting Miss Braton for a boat ride myself. Will you so honor me, little girl?" "Why, of course I will," she replied. "I wouldn't go with Daddy anyway; he's too much of a 'fraidy cat' on the water." "Am I to understand, young lady," said Court- right severely, "that you repudiate my care and pro- tection, and prefer to trust yourself with this weak- minded spendthrift?" "I certainly do, Daddy," said the girl; "and I don't think that I shall be the loser by the exchange. And neither will you ; for you have the best woman in the world to go with you and see that you behave yourself." "Thank you," said Courtright; "I want you to understand then that I wash my hands of you ; that UNCLE CARL 335 is, I will in about three seconds, if I can find the wash- bowl." "Well, do come in, all of you, if you are through with your bantering," said Mrs. Courtright. "I never saw such a quarrelsome lot of children." "They are awful bad, ain't they, mama," said Beatrice. "And Uncle Carl's just as bad as any of them." Snatching the girl up with an affectionate little squeeze, Englewood seated her on his shoulder, and with, "I'll bet we'll get to supper first," started a race toward the house, followed by the rest, romping like school-children out for a holiday. And what a beautiful evening it was out on old Lake Michigan. The memory of it lasted for many a long year, and helped lighten the burdens of many sad hours and wearisome days. The Queen of the Night was in her brightest mood, and was reflected in water without a ripple on its surface, but which slowly heaved up and down, like the breast of some giant sleeping peacefully under the guardianship of the spirit world. Although there were several boats on the water, manned by nearby cottagers, an almost absolute silence prevailed, broken only by the regular splash of the dripping oars. Out, out over the mighty waters they moved; even the children im- pressed with the solemn, awe-inspiring beauty of the night. The boats had drawn closer together, as if for companionship, and for long no voice had broken the silence. "It is like the peace of Eternity," said Englewood, at length, in a low voice. "Naught but rest and glory, with the majestic Omnipotence pervading all." A few moments later Hattie Braton, at Mrs. ourtright's suggestion, sang in a clear, sweet voice 336 UNCLE CARL the old hymn, so appropriate to their mood, "Nearer, my God, to Thee," Carl joining with a soft baritone. As they ceased there came from a near-by boat, as if in response to the hymn, the "Doxology," sung by the beautifully modulated voices of a male quartette. As the sounds died away over the placid waters our friends with one accord bowed their heads in silent prayer. Englewood, alone, remained upright; but stretching his arms heavenward, breathed softly the one word, "Irene." Later, as they were returning homeward, they be- came conscious of more worldly matters, as voices in the distance sang the words of "Auld Lang Syne." "What a blessing is friendship," said Carl, "and yet how rare a thing true friendship is in these days of commercialism and self-interest. We need to re- member the days of 'Auld Lang Syne' ; for the hearty friendships of those days, softened by distance perhaps, and the rough edges that caused friction obliterated from our memories by time, go far toward neutralizing the shams and infidelities of modern life and action." "Oh, I don't know that people were more, or less true, in those days than they are now," said Court- right, as he brought his boat alongside. "I am of the opinion that there was just as much selfishness and rascality a quarter or a half of a century ago as there is now." "It may be so," replied Carl, "but I certainly see more of dishonor now than I did then. Perhaps be- cause I am in more active touch with the world. But yet, it seems to me that the objects chiefly sought in this generation, if not less worthy are at least worked for with less scruples of conscience than in the old days." UNCLE CARL 337 "Don't you think," asked Mrs. Courtright, "that the rapid growth of infidelity is largely respon- sible?" /'Frankly, I do not," said Carl. "Rather, I should think that the rapid growth of infidelity is the result of a growing selfishness, and resultant stultified con- science. But with 'little pitchers' about I think that topic should not be discussed at present. I notice that even in our modern school systems, while the op- portunities for learning are greatly superior to those of my childhood, yet the objects of knowledge seem to be altogether to assist the student to financial suc- cess. Almost wholly materialistic, with little or no attempt on the part of instructors toward character building." "I apprehend," said Courtright, "that that is largely due to our free school system. The number of pupils is so large that it is practically impossible for the instructors to get in touch with individual students as they did in our school days. Besides, character building I think should begin in the homes.' "True, it should," said Carl; "but the homes themselves are not what they were. The strife to excel one's neighbors is carried to greater extremes. Worldly success is the chief aim, and is spelled M-a-m-m-o-n. So long as the children grow into money-makers, and do not fall into public disgrace, there seems to be little concern on the part of the parents as to their morals. I find, too, that pupils in the graded schools are given a smattering of knowl- edge of many kinds, without gaining a thorough knowledge of any. Even the commonest yet most necessary studies, 'the three R's,' are neglected for the 22 338 UNCLE CARL purpose of 'getting through' these superficial studies. Fewer studies, and those thoroughly digested, so that the student may learn how to study for the real education comes after school days are over, and the school should teach the how, and form the habit of study; the inculcation of the principles of habit- ual truth and honor and patience, are certainly pro- ductive of better results than the system in vogue to- day. I have in mind now, a pupil's experience which illustrates but too well a quite common custom. It was at the writing lesson in which the child showed but little progress. The instructor's chief argument in urging the pupil to do better, was, 'You will never succeed as a book-keeper unless you do better than that,' instead of impressing him with the desire to do each thing well for its own sake; to take pride in present accomplishment." "I don't know but that you are right," said Court- right. "All that I know of value to-day I learned after leaving school. My school days laid the foun- dation, and certainly it was there that I learned how to apply myself; 'how to study,' as you put it. I have noticed that when the pupils leave school now they have little taste for study of any kind." "I think that I know why the difference is," said Arthur, who was in the boat with Mr. Courtright. "It isn't every pupil that has mother and father and an Uncle Carl, who make our studies interesting. We are taught cold facts; but it is just as you say, they are skimmed through, and the most that is taught us is, 'to get on in the world.' But some way, you always make what we learn interesting in other ways, and make us see a connection between what we are studying and social life, and character. And I think that if all pupils could have such teachers as UNCLE C4RL 339 you, so that they could understand how much more beautiful it is to, for instance, study forest life, than it is to cut down the trees and kill the beautiful birds just to sell for money, that you would not have so much to find fault with." "Arthur, Arthur!" said Mrs. Courtright, not without pride, however; "my, what a long speech you have made." "Arthur is all right," said his father. "He has the right idea; don't you think so, Englewood?" "Yes, certainly yes," replied Carl. "The nearer we get to Nature, the more puerile seems the striving for social preeminence. In Nature there is naught of dishonor; it is only in the artificial life that the gaudy trappings and the glitter of pomp and power attract to the detriment of character. There was no money, no worldly advancement, out yonder on the lake. Yet not one of us but feels better, purer, higher for that commune with Mother Nature. We have been face to face for a brief space with the great Eternal. And is it not true that we shall take up our work to-morrow with better heart because of it; shall be more patient with those who cannot see what we have seen, nor feel what we have felt? Shall we not be better friends with our fellows? I have lost sight in this discussion of the topic of friendship that I started out with, and I intended to give you a long, prosy sermon. Never mind, you'll get it yet probably, so prepare plenty of cotton for your ears." "Cotton! Mr. Englewood," protested Miss Braton; "rather, I would get an ear trumpet that I might hear the louder. Somehow, I never tire of hearing you 'preach,' as you call it. You always talk so differently from those one meets in ordinary 340 UNCLE CARL society. Did you ever hear the poem written by Sam Walter Foss on Friendship?" "I think not," said Carl; "can you give it to us?" "I will try to," responded Hattie. "You men haven't given me a chance to talk at all and I shan't let this opportunity slip. In Homer a man is spoken of as one who 'lived in a house by the side of the road and was a friend to man.' Mr. Foss made that thought the theme of his verses, and I want to repeat them, because to me they seem to be a perfect description of the man we -are so proud to claim as our friend." "Now, now ! no flattery, little girl !" exclaimed Englewood. "Poets are very apt to overdraw." "We have got you here, and you can't get away from us unless you tip us over," said Hattie. "You have never let me speak my mind, and now you have got to listen while I 'spout,' Daddy Courtright calls it." "Bravo, bravo! daughter. Give it to him!" said Courtright, clapping his hands. "You have met your match, Englewood, you old fraud. Now listen." And while they slowly neared the shore Hattie recited the following beautiful lines: THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.* (SAM WALTER Foss) (He lived in a house by the lide of tke road, and was a friend to man. Homer.") " 'There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the peace of their sel f -con tent ; There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart, In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran; But let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man. * By permission of the author, UNCLE CARL 341 " 'Let me live in a house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by The men who are good and the men who are bad, As good and as bad as I. I would not sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban; Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man. " 'I see from my house by the side of the road, By the side of the highway of life, The men who press with the ardor of hope, The men who are faint with the strife, But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears Both parts of an Infinite plan ; Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man. " 'I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead And mountains of wearisome height; That the road passes on through the long afternoon And stretches away to the night. But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, And weep with the strangers that moan, Nor live in my house by the side of the road Like a man who dwells alone. " 'Let me live in my house by the side of the road Where the race of men go by They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish so am I. Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat Or hurl the cynic's ban? Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.' " That evening's occupations were typical of many pleasant hours passed during the succeeding summer months by our friends. A romp with the children, in which all joined, a row on the beautiful lake, or a stroll on the beach or through the forest that cov- ered the hills back of the cottage, followed by a quiet, chatty rest on the porch often lasting until mid- night, so loth were they to leave the glories of the night, was their usual routine. And they all profited by it. The undemonstrative yet strong 342 UNCLE CARL friendship and affection that each felt for all; the unrestrained freedom from the conventionalities of city life; the voice of Nature, drawing them onward and upward, expanding their souls which had been cramped and tortured by the amenities of "polite so- ciety" ; the quiet, thoughtful conversations in which each bore a part, assisting, elevating, purifying each ; the rest all gave to this summer a place in their hearts and memories that was worth more to them than all of the material wealth the world could give. Ralph Deneen, too, often came to them for brief visits. A busy young man was Ralph. A worthy, energetic, ambitious young man. Ready to do battle for truth and justice, but especially engrossed at this time with his engineering work, in which he gave promise of great accomplishment. And he was al- ways welcome in the little circle. But to Mr. Engle- wood, especially, was the freedom of this home a grateful boon. Essentially a home-lover, he was, at thirty-five, homeless. His nature was such that, as we have seen, his boyhood home had no charms for him, and in the interests of peace he could not feel free to go there. Inscrutable law had denied him a happy home with the maiden to whom his heart had been given; and, faithful to her memory, earnestly striving to fulfill the work endeared to him by her co- operation in its planning, he had never felt that he could place another in the sacred niche she had occu- pied in his heart. Therefore to this lonely, earnest man, the Courtright home was a blessing indeed. And there, it mattered not how trying, how disap- pointing the day, he returned each evening, feeling already rested and elevated in anticipation of the quiet hours that would elapse ere another day's du- ties should call him. He became more communica- UNCLE CARL 343 tive, too, about his work; for he was a very busy man. Though, as he had resolved, he took no active part in the political campaign, he kept in constant touch with the work of the Federation. He was also occupied with his mechanical labors; for he must not only live, but more money, and more, and more, must be found to still continue the search for his ward. Add to this his benevolences, of which he said nothing, yet which we know were a constant drain on his resources, and we can readily under- stand how the man must have often been tired and worried. One of his surest comforters was Miss Braton. To her there was nothing too good for the one who had saved her from a life of darkness. Always alert to anticipate his wishes, she quietly, modestly saw that nothing was lacking to insure his comfort. Nor did she make herself unduly conspicuous in so doing. Where all were vicing with one another to show their regard, her little quiet deeds were almost lost sight of. Indeed, Englewood never even thought of her as being more kind and thoughtful than any other young lady would have been to a man so many years her senior. Yet, almost unconsciously, he began to look forward during the day to the little home circle that he would meet in the evening; and always more prominent than any of the other dear friends, her face would shine out. With her he had come to have many little quiet confidential chats; for she was quick to see and appreciate, while her ready sympathy for those in distress, and her wise counsel as to methods, were often of great value to him. She wished, too, to take an active part in his labors; and on several occasions had passed the day in Ka- loma, where her bright face and cheery words did 344 UNCLE CARL more good to some sorrowing hearts than even Engle- wood's grave sympathy and strong helping hand could accomplish. Eventually she came to have com- plete charge of some of his work; and, without his knowing it, saved him many a dollar that would otherwise have been unwisely given. Hattie was now in a position, too, to give out of her own re- sources, for her art work met with a ready market. And she had not forgotten the words spoken by Englewood on that dark day so long ago: "I will take a great satisfaction in feeling that I have helped to place you in a position to do good work, and to assist other unfortunates to surmount the obstacles to successful living. There are many things in life better worth striving for than money, though that is a very convenient and necessary article to have. One of the chief of these is character building, and I hope to find in you a skilful architect in that kind of work." She had long resolved that she would fulfill that hope; and though she said little about it, and only when questioned, she had already traveled far enough on the road to learn to love the work for its own sake, as well as for his. Much there was, then, that these two had in common, besides the peaceful home- life in the summer cottage. And it is hardly to be wondered at that Englewood's erstwhile semi- paternal interest should be merged into a feeling of sympathetic companionship ; and that he should look forward to her participation in the social evening hour with deeper pleasure than he realized. It may be that neither Hattie nor Carl had any other feel- ing for each other than earnest friendship. Yet, de- spite the disparity of their ages, the conditions were such that other and stronger emotions might easily UNCLE CARL 345 follow. And it was the unspoken desire of Mrs. Courtright that these two homeless ones might some time build a little nest of their own. Ralph Deneen caused that good lady some concern in this regard. For, though naught had been said by him as to his affections, it was plainly evident to all but Hattie and Carl that to him that young lady was all that could be desired. It is true, indeed, that the young man was deeply Involved in Cupid's meshes, and was looking forward longingly to the time when he might ask of Hattie the greatest boon that man can receive in this world. He was a manly young fellow, however, and felt that he had no right to speak until he could offer, with his love, a comfortable home. San- guine and hopeful, he did not doubt that he could win her heart. Indeed, many little thought- ful acts of friendship he had construed as being evi- dences of partiality toward him. "We are both young yet," he thought, "and I must get a foothold in the world first; but my prospects are bright, thanks to dear old Uncle Carl and father; and it won't be long before I can ask the dearest girl in the whole universe to make me the happiest of all happy men." And so the summer months glided by. It was late in August that Mrs. Courtright, impatient to see her desires fulfilled, made a disclosure that was startling, though not altogether displeasing to Englewood. The two had been sitting together on the steps of the porch, amusedly watching the antics of the children, who were romping on the beach. Ralph and Hattie had strolled out on the little dock that jutted into the lake; and their figures, silhouetted against the crim- son glow of the western sky, suggested to Engle- 346 UNCLE CARL wood that the days of their youth also were near the close; the work of the adult life at hand. He sighed softly as he remarked: "I presume that before long our little proteges will be seeking homes of their own. If they should choose each other they would make a handsome pair, wouldn't they? Ralph is a splendid fellow, and Hat- tie has grown to be a beautiful woman, both in char- acter and person. If I were not such an old fogy," he added jokingly, "I don't know but that I might try to win her myself." "That might not be such a difficult thing to do," said Mrs. Courtright, "and really I think that you owe it to yourself to make a little home of your own." "Oh, no," said Carl seriously, "I have too sacred a memory of that other little girl, who sleeps under the mountain shadow. Somehow, I have never given a thought to the possibility of placing another in her place; and yet it was one of Irene's last wishes that I should do so. Somehow, Hattie often reminds me of my lost one; but such a thing is out of the question of course. I am seventeen years her senior, and she could hardly think of me, save as an old friend." "Don't be too sure of that," ventured Mrs. Court- right. "The difference in age is not so much; why, Mr. Courtright is fourteen years older than I, and we are not so unhappy. Compatibility is of more consequence than age. Besides, my dear friend, Hat- tie is a girl older than her years, and is able to ap- preciate character. To her you are more than you think." "Mrs. Courtright," exclaimed Carl, "don't tell me that. You certainly cannot mean " "I mean," interrupted Mrs. Courtright, "that if UNCLE CARL 347 you really want a happy home it is, I believe, yours for the asking. More it would not be right for me to say." Abruptly Englewood rose to his feet, and ner- vously taking a* cigar from his pocket, he lighted it and walked rapidly up the beach. Nor did he re- turn until long after the rest had retired for the night. "Strange," he had thought as he strode over the white sands, "that I have never given a thought to such a possibility. I would not wrong that little girl for the world. Mrs. Courtright must be mistaken in the hint she gave me, for surely there is nothing about me to attract such a winsome little miss. As a friend, and one who was given the opportunity to help her when she was in need of help, she doubtless has some affection for me; but I am a quite elderly man, now; too old for her. I have not progressed in life either, as one should to be worthy of a place by her side in that close relation. I have been too much inclined to sit lazily in 'my house by the side of the road,' as she quoted, and have let the travelers journey on through the 'brook-gladdened meadows,' and up the 'mountains' beyond. Heigh, ho ! I hope that I have done somewhat in helping them on. I have tried to encourage them a little. It is not all that can make successful travelers on the road to the mountain-tops, and perhaps those who stand aside as they pass, and give them words of counsel and cheer and sympathy, have enabled them to journey farther toward the heights than they would other- wise have done. But Hattie is worthy of one who has gone far on the road; and yet, if she does in- deed care for me, I I why it seems to me that I may have been all wrong as to my regard for her. Do I can it be that what I thought was only 348 UNCLE CARL friendly interest is really something warmer? Why is it that such a thought is not repugnant to me, as it has ever been when marriage has been suggested to me? Oh, Irene, had you but lived! Come back to me. Counsel me. I need you now." And stopping he raised his arms toward their "star." But the star only glimmered for a moment, and then a passing cloud hid it from sight; while the waves washing the beach, with their prolonged ceaseless swish, em- phasized his isolation. "It seems almost a sacrilege to think of such a thing," he muttered, as he resumed his walk; "and yet, Irene herself bade me. Oh, my little pearl I To you was given the best of myself. Never again can I feel for another as for you ; and always through life I shall hope for the meeting 'at the gate.' Yet, I do so long for a home; and if for this, almost your double, I should come to feel some- thing that would make it right for me to take her to myself; and if our friend was not mistaken, and she does indeed have for me a feeling deeper than friendship; then it may be that still in this life there is peace for me. But if such time should be, then, dearest one, both of us, Hattie and I for she shall know of you shall bless your memory; and at yonder gate you shall welcome, not one, but two souls that shall blend their light with yours." And as he mounted the steps of the porch he turned his eyes again heavenward; and the cloud had passed, and the star shone with a brilliant light as if in benignant acquiescence. The rising night- wind sighed as it breathed a cooling caress on his forehead. A bird, disturbed in its rest, sang a few contented little love-notes to its mate; and from the beach the sound of the restless waters whispered, "peace," as he quietly entered the house and closed the door. CHAPTER XXX President Moore of the "Kaloma Civic Federa- tion," and several of the directors, were holding a consultation at the former's office. The question of whom to support of the various nominees for differ- ent offices, had been under discussion. The policy of the Federation was non-partisan. The members be- ing of all political shades, the Federation took no part in National politics as an organization; but they deemed that character and qualification were of more importance in local and State affairs than party affiliation; and though they took no part in the con- ventions and machine work of the various political parties, they yet discussed the nominations made; and selecting without regard to party lines the men whom they felt to be best fitted for the position sought, the influence of the Federation would be ex- erted to compass their election. In this way, as the organization really held the balance of power, they had succeeded in forcing the old parties to place in nomination good men, as a rule. Occasionally, if none of the nominees for a given office was accept- able, the Federation would place an independent can- didate in the field; with the result, usually, of filling the office with a good man. At this meeting agreements had been reached in regard to all candidates save one. "It seems to me," the president said, "that the candidates in nomination for representative are none of them acceptable. While Palmer is an upright, honest citizen, he is, in my opinion, lacking in the ability necessary to make him valuable as a represen- 350 UNCLE CARL tative of the people. Barker, while sufficiently able, is yet one whom I would not trust very far in the face of his own self-interest; while Stanhope, well! he is a man of considerable force, and certainly is brilliant and able; but though I know of nothing positive against him, I think that we all agree that he is the last man to be entrusted with so important an office." "Certainly," said Mr. Howe, the Federation treas- urer, "we must oppose all three nominees. With the important legislation imminent, we must have at Lansing not only an able and forceful member, but a man of absolute, unquestioned honor. We under- stand from our 'scouts' that the machines of both the old parties, backed by the powerful influence of the Transportation Company, are to work for the election of Stanhope ; with what end in view may be easily surmised. I think that I voice the opinion of all when I suggest, not only that it is our duty to place in nomination an independent candidate for this office, but that in doing so we shall have on our hands the hardest fight of our lives." "Gentlemen," said the old war-horse, Captain Davis, "there is no question but that we all agree to what has been said. We have discussed these questions sufficiently, it seems to me, and the only thing left for us to do at this time is to decide upon our candidate. There is to my mind but one man in the district to whom we can turn, with confidence in both his ability and honor, in this crisis. That man has repeatedly refused to become a candidate for office, for reasons which, though not stated, we are bound to believe were adequate. But we have now, as Mr. Howe has stated, the fight of our life on our hands. It is a crisis which I feel can be safely passed under the leadership of a no less able, honorable, and UNCLE CARL 351 forceful man than Mr. Carl Englewood; and I am proud to move, Mr. President, that he be declared our nominee for representative in the State Legisla- ture." "I support the motion," a chorus of voices broke in, amid a clapping of hands. "Englewood is the man. Question, question." When the enthusiasm had subsided somewhat our friend rose slowly to his feet, to be greeted with renewed hand clapping. Englewood had taken but little part in the discussion, as there had been no question as to the undesirability of the various nomi- nees; but now he was facing with dread a duty forced upon him by friends who did not know all that they demanded of him. "Gentlemen," he said, "I would be less or more than human, if I were not proud of this moment. Your friendship, your trust, your respect, they are more than gratifying; and yet you are asking of me that which I am very loth to grant. I have not in the past given you my reasons for declining office; and even now it is hard to do so. Yet it is true that we must have a good candidate to oppose the nomi- nees now before the people. While it is possible that I would be, with your support, a strong candidate; yet there is that which might cause me to be weaker than you know. It is an old sore with me, and one that I do not wish to make public, unnecessarily. I wish, therefore, with your permission, to have a few moments' private conversation with the three gentle- men who have last spoken; and if they are then still of the opinion that I am the most available candidate, I will sacrifice my own inclination and stand for the office." The four gentlemen withdrawing to a private of- 352 UNCLE CARL fice, the remaining members entered into an informal discussion of the coming campaign, until called to order a half hour later by the president, who ad- dressed them as follows: "Gentlemen, the disclosures made to us by Mr. Englewood are such as we cannot make public with- out subjecting him to gross misconceptions and possible scandal. We beg leave to report that they in no way alter our opinion of him as a man of honor; indeed, we are more than ever proud to call him 'friend.' Yet, it is undeniable that, should what he has told us become known to the opposition, it might be handled in such a way as to not only lose us votes, but also would be a source of great sorrow to the one who so reluctantly, and only for duty's sake, places his candidacy in our hands to accept or reject at our pleasure. For his sake, I wish that it were possible for us to find another available man for the office; but for the sake of our cause I; with the hearty acquiescence of Messrs. Howe and Davis, recommend the acceptance of Mr. Englewood's sac- rifice. The question is now before you for discus- sion." "Mr. President," said Englewood, "before this matter is further discussed, I wish to make a brief statement. While I fully appreciate, and heartily thank you all for the esteem manifested for me by even mentioning my name in connection with this honorable office, I am yet in hopes that some other man may be found to carry our colors to victory. Yet, if it be the will of this Federation that I stand for the office, I bow to that will, but under the fol- lowing conditions only. I am one of those old- fashioned cranks who believe that the office should seek the man. If I am placed in nomination, I wish UNCLE CARL 353 it to be understood distinctly that I shall not lift my hand, nor use my influence in any way, directly or indirectly, to compass my election. I shall even de- cline to take active part in the work of this organiza- tion during the campaign; for the reason that I, as a nominee, am an interested party in the success or failure of the work. It must be remembered, too, that I have never had experience, nor been in close touch with the duties of the office now under discus- sion, and that, though if it be the people's will that I serve, I should do so to the best of my ability, it seems to me very unwise to put such an inexperienced man as myself in so important a position. I thank you again most earnestly, and still hope that you will find another available man for the position." As Englewood sat down, Mr. Bullard, an old farmer-politician, rose. "Mr. President," he said, "I don't reckon as we keer specially fer Mr. Englewood's active work in this campaign. I'm sure that we kin git along purty well without his influence, except as his name is an influence for honesty and general all-around good- ness, by gum ! His friends are goin' to do the work fer him and he's got thousands of 'em in this here county. I don't think that we want to discuss this question any more. We've all of us got our minds made up; and they're made up to vote for honest Carl Englewood, fer representative; and I call, Mr. President, fer the question." ' "Question, question," came a chorus of voices as the old fellow sat down; and the next minute, mid rousing cheers, our friend was declared the choice of the Federation for State Representative. 23 354 UNCLE CARL The following Sunday, Courtright and Engle- wood were strolling along the beach near the former's summer home. Their conversation had taken a po- litical turn, and the local struggle was under consid- eration. "The slates of the machine have been made up unusually early this year," Englewood had said, "and there will be a good ten weeks for field work, as the conventions, though not yet called except on repre- sentative, will undoubtedly ratify the lists as given to them by their party leaders. The Federation will take no official action, of course, until after the nomi- nations have been made in regular form, but mean- while we have enough to keep our hands full." "I am mighty glad," the lawyer said, "that you have at last consented to stand for office; for I think that you are especially fitted, both in character and ability, for public affairs. But, as usual, I learn that your 'finickiness' handicaps you at the start. I understand that you decline to take any active part in the campaign ; and to my way of thinking that is a mistake." "Perhaps I am finicky," replied Englewood; "but as I explained to the Federation, before my nomina- tion, I believe that the office should seek the man, not man the office." "And I don't think that you are entirely right," said Courtright. "In the first place, I think that it is a laudable ambition for a man to seek the suffrage of his fellows to place him in an honorable office. An ambition is unworthy only when one desires the office for the purpose of carrying out unworthy pro- jects. And I also think that when one feels the need of a strong, able man to carry out a given principle or measure for the public welfare, and believes that he UNCLE CARL 355 himself could worthily carry on the work, it becomes his duty a duty to the people to seek the office." "I quite agree with you," replied Englewood. "A great reformer should, if he feels himself called, do all that he can toward compassing the great results. If fitted to lead, he should seek leadership for him- self. If he feels that he can accomplish the best re- sults in an office of public trust, then he should seek the office. But in ordinary public affairs it is not re- formers, but honest servants that are needed. In the office for which I have been nominated it is not a reformer that is needed; but an honest and intelli- gent man, who will earnestly assist in the work of perpetuating good government. The people know this, are alive to the issues, and I hold that the people should select their servant; in other words, the office seek the man. I have no special projects in view; I do not see that there is any great special mission for our next representative, and therefore I am averse to going before the public as an applicant for the office with only the plea, 'We want an honest man at Lan- sing and I am an honest man, therefore send me there.' If, however, the people, believing that I am the one best fitted for the position, if, without my influence either for or against any of the nominees, the people say, 'You are our choice for this office, go and serve us, then it becomes my duty as a citizen to do my share, to honestly and to tne best of my ability serve them." "Doubtless you are right in your view, as an ideal principle," said Courtright, "but it is not the custom in modern politics. And where there are so many unworthy men seeking an opportunity to grab from the public treasury; where there are so many willing tools to serve the ends of selfish corporations, and 356 UNCLE CARL who seek public office for that purpose, I think that when one who knows himself to be able and honest consents to stand for election, he should use every honorable means to win; and this is especially true when he knows that the chief opposition candidate should by rights be behind the bars." "From your point of view you are right," replied Englewood. "But laying my prejudices and personal desires aside for the moment and viewing the case only in the light of policy, let me ask you if, by ac- tively championing the cause of what the opposition calls the 'Immaculates' with the necessarily implied charge that the opposition candidate is not without stain, I should pose as the only honest candidate for this office, and that is really the only issue in this campaign, and later, my own past record, with what you know it includes, should be made public, would not my active work do more harm than good in the campaign? And let me add, that I believe that my past will be thoroughly investigated and made the most of by my opponents." "Poor fellow !" said Courtright. "It is going to be a bitter pill for you whether you win or lose, isn't it! Well, perhaps you are right. At any rate you will have your own way. But suppose that trouble should come up, you can clear that up all right. Surely you would be justified in telling the whole truth under the circumstances." "Justified or not in the eyes of others," said Engle- wood, "I shall not speak; for as I have told you before, another's reputation would be at stake, and I have promised to shield that reputation." "But surely," urged Courtright, "that person, if worthy of your sacrifice, would release you from such a promise under the circumstances." UNCLE CARL 357 "I shall not ask it," said Englewood, "as Scott said,* 'In what consists the merit of our truth, if we observe not our plighted word when we have prom- ised, to our hurt.' No, no, my dear friend. This will be but another burden for me to carry, and I assume it with my eyes open. I have explained the situation just as you know it, but no further, to the leaders of our Federation. In their judgment I am the most available candidate in spite of it; and they know just what to expect. And so, let the wheel turn. I may be bruised but shall not be crushed; and so long as I have the trust of you and your family, I shall pos- sess a healing balm for much more painful sores than this one. Suppose we join the rest for a row on the lake." "You are a wonderful fellow, Englewood," said the lawyer. "There are not many as steadfast as you, when it comes to what you think is your duty." "Oh, yes, there are," said Carl; "the world is full of good people if we only look for them ; and much heavier burdens than I carry are borne more cheer- fully than mine are by thousands who have not the compensation that I have in the true friendships of such as you and yours. Heigh, ho I it won't be long now before you kind people will be going back to the big city. I shall miss these evenings, I can tell you. I shall feel mighty lonely when you are all gone." "Whenever such a fit comes over you, pack up your grip and come over to us for a little visit," said Courtright. "We shall be glad to give you a 'shake- down' in the stable or the chicken-house any old time." "Indeed, I should like to," returned Carl; "but I * Sir Walter Scott, Woodstock, Ch. V. 358 UNCLE CARL am much a man of habit, and it is not easy for me to break into my routine." "You have no business to get into a rut that you can't turn out of easily," said the lawyer. "Did it never strike you that, if your friends like you and want you, you deprive them of a pleasure as well as yourself by not yielding to their wishes occasionally? Come now; promise me that you will visit us this fall." "Of course you know more about my business and what I can do better than I do myself," retorted Englewood. "And since you say so, I suppose I'll have to come. So I yes I promise to run over this fall, if possible." CHAPTER XXXI It is not our purpose to dwell in detail upon the political campaign waged that fall. It was carried on in the usual manner of modern political warfare. There were the same hob-nobbings of professional politicians, and wire-pullers, and ward heelers. The same torch-light processions, and band-playing, and spell-binding. The same acrimonious literature and exaggerated rumors calculated to injure the oppo- sition candidates. The Civic Federation, however, waged a dignified battle for their choice of the va- rious candidates in the field, without regard to party lines; and their influence was potent beyond all the forces of the opposition. The heat of the contest was around the nominees for representative. As had been foreseen by the Federation, the machine politicians, united by the capitalistic interests, were waging a strong battle. Slanderous innuendoes, sneers, and ridicule were hurled without stint at the candidate of the "Im- maculates"; but still they controlled a strong fol- lowing, and unless an to them unexpected devel- opment should arouse distrust, there was good ground to hope for the victory of their candidate. Engle- wood, though steadfastly refusing to take active part in the campaign work, kept in constant touch with affairs, anticipating with dread the time when the cheery greeting of his fellows should become sub- dued; the clear eyes of friendship be clouded with suspicion at accusations that those who trusted him could not, while he would not, refute. For he had no doubt that the relentless enmity of Stanhope would 360 UNCLE CARL sooner or later lead him to a record of the past that, without explanation on his part, would be of itself sufficient ground for distrust ; and under the manipu- lation of experienced politicians would appear blackly criminal. Still, the election was only a fortnight off, and the tension of suspense which had become al- most painful was relaxing under the hope that, per- haps, his fears were after all unfounded. It was at this time that Englewood received an urgent request from Courtright to visit him for two or three days. "I have some news; sad, but still of considerable moment to you," he had written; "and as engagements here will not permit me to go over there, suppose you come here." And Carl resolved to make the visit; feeling that neither his presence nor absence would alter the results of the political battle. The day following, therefore, he reached Chicago, preceded by a telegram announcing his coming; intending, as Courtright's family were once more settled in their surburban home, to remain there for perhaps four or five days. The evening of his departure there was a special meeting of the committee having in charge Stan- hope's campaign, at which the latter was present. Indeed, it was at his request that the meeting was called. Various reports had been made by lesser po- litical lights so optimistically colored that, though the committee did not forget that the crisis of the battle was yet in the future, confidence in the final result was felt by all. After receiving reports, the com- mittee held a private session, at which Stanhope, with much elation, divulged knowledge that, as he ex- pressed it, was a "clincher that would put that cursed Englewood in such a position that he wouldn't dare to show his head again in this town." UNCLE CARL 361 "In fact," continued that worthy, "I think that the whelp 'smells a mouse' already. I understand that he took the boat to-night for Chicago; and when he learns that the cat is out of the bag it isn't likely that he will turn up here again." "Do you know," said one of the members, "I don't exactly like to hear Englewood spoken of as 'a whelp.' To my mind, he is an upright gentleman. To be sure, in politics we must not be too scrupulous, if we want to win; but at the same time, it isn't necessary to indulge in vituperation here." "Isn't, hey!" retorted Stanhope. "I think that you'll change your tune when you know what I do. I have always thought that his sanctimoniousness was only skin deep, but now I know it." He then proceeded to give a detailed statement of an event touching Englewood's honor, that he had learned from one who had known Carl some years before. "He is positive as to his facts," said Stanhope, "but we must, of course, have proof. And the proof, so my informant tells me, is a matter of court record in Y County. The chief reason I wanted the meeting to-night was, that we should send a man at once to look up this record. If it is as I have been told, Englewood will be defeated easily. Now what do you think of Mr. Englewood as a first-class whelp?" he asked, turning to the member who had objected to the term. "I am sorry, very sorry," said the member, "to learn this of Mr. Englewood. I have always thought him to be an exceptionally upright man. Though, of course, not the man who will serve our interests at Lansing. In fact, it is chiefly because of his upright- ness that we prefer you there. I confess that I hope that the record will not show him to be as you have 362 UNCLE CARL represented. But if it does, there is no question but that it will insure his defeat." "My, oh my !" said another member. "Won't that be a rich joke on the 'Immaculates.' To find their own candidate to be as off-colored as our own dickey- bird, Stanhope." "It isn't necessary to fling slurs at me, sir," said Stanhope, coloring. "Because Englewood can be proved a cur it does not follow that the same term can be used of me. There is no court record against my name." "No, perhaps not," retorted the last speaker. "But there ought to be a dozen. Black ones, too." "Gentlemen, gentlemen," said the chairman, as Stanhope half rose, with clenched fist, "this is neither the time nor place for quarrels. We have now to discuss matters more important than Stanhope's moral character. Let us proceed to business." With that they took up matters of detail connected with the campaign; amongst others designating one of their number to investigate the charge brought against Mr. Englewood. While the political game is being played, let us rest for a few days in the cheery home of Mr. Courtright, where our friends drink the "wine of existence." 5 Upon his arrival in Chicago, Englewood went at once to Courtright's office, to meet with a greeting that he had learned to consider more earnest and heartfelt in proportion to the degree of ridiculous bantering used to express it. "You miserable old sinner," the lawyer said, as with beaming face he shook hands with Carl, "you couldn't keep away, could you? If I ever want you, * Friendship is the wine of existence, but love is the dram drink- ing. E. Bulwer. UNCLE CARL 363 I only have to make a mysterious appeal to your self- interest and you are sure to appear." "Quite mistaken, quite mistaken, Courtright," re- torted Englewood. "I came over only to offer my sympathy to your wife, who is to soon meet with such a great loss." "My wife, Englewood," said Courtright, becom- ing at once serious. "Why, there is nothing the mat- ter there. What do you mean? A great loss com- ing to her?" "Certainly," said Carl; "or at least some would consider it a loss, though to me it would seem to be a decided gain." "What is it? Explain yourself." The lawyer was becoming somewhat uneasy. "Only that you are going to hang one of these days, if you don't keep a more civil tongue in your head," laughed Carl. "But, really, old friend, it does seem good to 1 be here, though it is not six weeks since you moved your family back. How are they all?" "All well," answered Courtright, "and as usual counting on seeing you. I promised them when your telegram came that I would send you right up there as soon as I got through with you." "That's good, too," said Carl. "Hurry up and get through with me." "Oh, I suppose you are in a hurry; but it's busi- ness that I have with you," said Courtright. "Well, why shouldn't I feel drawn by the Crea- tor's last and best work," said Carl. "There is nothing that I know of better worth following than petticoats if they contain such perfection as can be found in your home. But, I'm all ready for business. 364 UNCLE CARL What is it? Your letter spoke of 'sad but important news.' " "Have a cigar, Englewood," said Courtright, ex- tending his case. And lighting one himself, the two friends sat down while the lawyer explained the im- port of his message. "We have had bad news from our mine," he said. "I have not had positive details of the cause of the accident, but gather that the engineer at the hoist became careless. At any rate, the hoisting engine got away from him while raising a carload of ore. The car was jerked up to the top of the shaft-house, where the cable broke, letting it fall to the floor. The engine whipped the cable about, doing great damage to itself, and killing the engineer outright. At the same time a piece of rock from the car was thrown out by the impact with the roof, and striking Stuart injured him so severely that he died the next day. There I you have the worst of it all in a lump." "Oh, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Carl. "Poor Stuart. Do you know I really liked that man in spite of his yielding to temptation. I believe that he had the making of a good citizen." "And so he was, and so he was," the lawyer re- plied. "He was a man in every sense of the word so far as I can gather. Honest, capable, and faithful to our interests. He had one shortcoming, though. He insisted to the day of his death that you, you lazy chump, made him a man." "Well, let that pass," said Carl; "I am deeply grieved at his end. But where is it otherwise of special importance to me?" "In this," said Courtright. "I have received from the Probate office at Rock Gulch, a copy of Stuart's will, executed some six months ago. In this will he UNCLE CARL 365 bequeaths to one Carl Englewood all of his one-third interest in the Pheasant mine. That I think is of some little importance, as the mine was capitalized at a million and a half. The first dividends, as I have been advised, will be paid next January, at which time two per cent on the capital stock will be distributed. That means the neat little sum of ten thousand dollars as your share. Of a little import- ance to you, old miser, don't you think?" "I'm amazed, Courtright," said Englewood. "There must be some mistake. I had no claim what- ever on Mr. Stuart. Why ! I knew him only two or three weeks; and all that I ever did for him was to persuade Erickson to let him have his rights, notwith- standing his attempt at trickery." "I don't know anything about that," said Court- right; "I am only giving you the facts that I do know about. But perhaps this letter that came with the copy of the will may explain it more fully. It is addressed to you, and I am informed, in my own letter of instructions, that Stuart himself wrote it a few hours before he died." He then handed a sealed envelope to Carl, who read the following en- closure : "October 18, 18- "Mr. Carl Englewood. "Mv FRIEND: The doctor tells me that I can live only a few hours, and before my lamp goes out I want to say a few words to you. I had hoped that I might live to prove to you that I could be an honest, even a good man, but Fate has ordered otherwise. But I want to say to you, Mr. Englewood, that but for you, I would now be a criminal, perhaps behind the bars. It was not only that you saved me my share 366 UNCLE CARL in the mine, that was justly forfeited, but that your influence as a man shamed the evil and roused to action the good that was in me. And from that day to this I can, on this my death-bed, honestly say that I have been true and faithful, not only to those who entrusted their business interests to my care, but true to my conscience as well. So that, to-day, I am be- fore all people a man of honor. And this is not bragging; I could not do that with the shadow of death so near me. But all that I have been in the last three years, all that I hope to be in the mysterious future, I owe to you ; and I pray to the Great Ruler to ever bless and keep you the kindliest and best man it has ever been my privilege to know. "I have in my will left to you all of my interest in the Pheasant mine. I beg of you to accept and use it as seems best to you, for I know that in your hands naught but good will come of it. In giving this to you, I would assure you that I do not deprive others of anything justly their due. My wife was laid away some years ago; and my only child, a daughter, is happily married to a man of wealth and honor. I have no dependents, and hope that you will not scruple to accept this in token of my trust and gratitude. "And now, good-by. May God bless you in your noble life. "JAMES STUART." Slowly Englewood refolded and placed the letter in his pocket. "I am sorry, Courtright," he said in answer to the lawyer's inquiring look, "that I cannot show you this letter. It contains some rather too broad compliments. Poor Stuart; it is a pity he could not have lived to show the world how worthy a man UNCLE CARL 367 he was. In this letter, however, he confirms the con- tents of the will, and I shall make such use of it as he expected, so far as I am able. But, now suppose we go out to your home, or are you too busy to go now?" "Sorry; but you'll have to make that trip by your lonely," said Courtright. "I have a case on call this afternoon. I'd ask you to go to court with me if it were not a dry chancery case; but then I know that you are anxious to get in touch with the petti- coats as quick as you can, anyway, so be off with you." "Oh, of course, I'm anxious," returned Carl. "You don't suppose that " "Oh, shut up; get out; don't bother me ; scoot!" said Courtright with a mock frown. "My wife would box my ears good if I kept you here any longer anyway. Tell her I'll be home as early as possible. Come now, vamoose !" and he wheeled to his desk, as with a laugh Englewood left the office. It is needless for us to reaffirm that the welcome that Englewood received was such as made him feel at home in his friend's dwelling; nor need we de- scribe his occupations there. The days were passed in restful recreations ; and though he passed an hour or so each day with his mail, keeping informed as to the progress of the political contest at Kaloma, he was able otherwise to forget for a little time that there were any other influences in the world than such as abounded in this little hive of affection and pure ambitions. Our history has grown to greater length, we have given rather more attention to the details of this man's life than was our intention in the beginning; and though there are a thousand things that we would 368 UNCLE CARL like to tell, we will hasten on to the more salient inci- dents; believing that our readers will understand better than we can describe, the atmosphere of friend- ship and thoughtful care that made of this an all but ideal home. It was the third evening of Englewood's visit that the family were seated in the living-room, awaiting the arrival of Courtright from the city. He was later than usual, and when he did arrive it was a hasty greeting he gave them all, even cutting short his usual romp with Beatrice. "Had rather a hard day to-day," he said, "and I'm rather out of sorts. Guess I'll go clean up and then I'll feel better," and he walked into the hall. At the foot of the stairway he stopped and called back to Englewood, who was sitting by the grate: "Oh, say, you old reprobate, come on up to my room while I slick up a bit. I've some news for you." As Carl followed him into his dressing-room, Courtright closed the door, and turning, grasped his friend's hand in a firm clasp, saying: "Englewood, you dear old fellow, it's bad news I have for you. What you feared has come, and it's in awful shape too. I got the papers just as I was closing the office. I thought that you would want to know the worst before my people learn of it, and so I brought them up here." Englewood's face turned a shade paler as Court- right was speaking; and his lips were firmly com- pressed, while his eyes had a mournful, hunted ex- pression. He turned and paced the room nervously for two or three minutes as if to gain more perfect mastery of himself, and then, stopping abruptly, reached for the newspaper that the lawyer extended. UNCLE CARL 369 He read the scathing article it contained with ap- parent calmness, though his clenched hands as he laid it down showed the strain under which he labored. "Courtright," he asked in a low voice "your wife ! Does she know of this blot in my life?" "She knows just as much as I know, old boy," was the reply. "And she trusts me in spite of it?" asked Carl. "Can you ask it, Englewood? She has known it for years. Hasn't she proved her faith?" answered Courtright. "Bless her pure heart; yes!" said Englewood. "But, oh, this is awful. And the children, Court- right, and Hattie Braton, do they know?" "No," answered his friend, "and they need not know yet, or ever, if you prefer it." "Oh, they must know," said Englewood. "I had hoped that the past might be buried. But since it has come up again, I cannot sail under false colors. Yes, let the children know." "But, Englewood, old friend," pleaded Courtright, "tell me the whole truth. Let us set you right before the world. I know that you hold that back that would make your record spotless." But Englewood straightened up, and raised his head with the imperious haughtiness of a king. "Once for all, Courtright, No!" he said. "Your trust is a precious thing to me. It soothes the sore that has been so harshly reopened; but something much more precious to me than your trust, and the trust and affection of your family, is my honor. My word has been passed and I shall not break it. But, my dear friend," and the haughtiness vanished, "something I would ask. Let nothing be said about 24 370 UNCLE CARL this until after supper; and then I wish that, when the children have gone up-stairs, I might myself show Hattie the paper. I want to see how she takes it. Of course you may tell your wife first if you choose, but let nothing be said to the little girl." "Of course, anything you wish," said Courtright. "But, really, don't you think it a little hard on her to take her unawares?" "Perhaps so," said Carl; "but somehow I want to see her eyes when she first knows. Her trust, in spite of this blot, will mean more to me than you know; and her distrust would would I " "Englewood!" exclaimed Courtright, and he again took his hand, while his eyes asked the question that he hesitated to put in words. "Can it be that you" "I'm afraid that I do," said Carl. "Old fool that I am," and he folded up the newspaper, and putting it in his pocket walked out of the room and down the stairs. Courtright returned to his toilet, muttering, "The grandest, truest old scoundrel in existence. But it's my turn now, my fine fellow. I know more than you think I do, and if we don't bring you out of this whiter than ever, my name isn't Courtright," and he chuckled softly as he arranged his tie. The evening meal passed much as usual that night, though the usual social conversation, especially of the two men, lacked its customary heartiness, and was rather strained and spasmodic. That something was amiss was felt rather than seen by the rest of the family, and it was with a sigh of relief that, an un- usually dull hour after the meal having passed and the children withdrawn to their rooms, Mrs. Court- right drew the chairs around the grate, and seating UNCLE CARL 371 herself said, "Now boys, something is wrong; let's talk it over." Hattie arose at this, saying, "Perhaps I had better go too, and leave you old friends together." But Carl with lifted hand protested. "Please be seated, Miss Braton," he said. "There is some trouble, but only in regard to myself, and I want you to know about it as well as the others. Though it is a matter of politics, your opinion will mean much to me. My opponents have hunted up my past record and pub- lished it. I wish that you would read it to us if you will." And he handed the girl a paper, and then leaning back in his chair watched her wistfully as she unfolded it, and reading aloud the first two or three words, stopped suddenly, and without lifting her eyes hurriedly scanned the following: THE "IMMACULATES" EXPOSED! ENGLEWOOD A THIEF.'!! THE SANCTIMONIOUS STANDARD BEARER CONVICTED OF CRIME! Convinced that the opposition were endeavoring to foist upon our fair county an unworthy man to represent our people at Lansing, our committee has been at some pains to carefully investigate his past life. Learning that he had lived some months at X , our agent visited that place, and learned that this hypocritical scoundrel had, after systematically robbing his employer for some weeks, been caught in the act, was arrested, tried and convicted by a jury of his peers, of petty thievery. Indisputable proof of this was found in the records of the court for Y County, Liber H, page 876. [Here followed a transcript of the case.] And this is the man! This reptile! Who with his sanctimonious and holier-than-thou attitude, has been posing before the people as a saint. Whom the corrupt leaders of the "Immaculates" would have the good people of this district vote for at the coming election. With what object in view may be easily surmised. How much more of disgusting criminality on the part of this whited sepulchre might be disclosed by further investigations is problematical. But this is enough. And now that the eyes of his duped followers are opened, we are much mistaken if they do not manifest their hatred of his kind by casting their votes for the 372 UNCLE CARL regular Democratic nominee. While we make no claims of "saint- ship" for our candidate, acknowledging that Mr. Stanhope is human, with a fair share of human frailties, yet we claim for him, at least honesty. Not yet has he fallen so low as to be convicted of crime in a court of justice. We look for, we are sure of the overwhelming defeat of the convicted snake who would pose as the representative of political and moral purity. Hattie sat for some seconds after reading this harsh exposure seconds that seemed like hours to the waiting Englewood; and then raised her eyes, brimming with tears, to his. "Oh, you poor martyr!" she said. "How can they print such abominable lies; and why, oh, why, did you want me to read it?" "I wanted you to read it, Miss Braton," said Carl in a strained voice, and looking fixedly at her, "because I wanted you to know something of my past, that I have been too cowardly to tell. I want you to know that the account of that case as given in that paper is absolutely true." "But you are not a thief!" said Hattie." "The jury said that I was," returned Englewood. "But I say that you are not a thief!" insisted the girl. "Nevertheless, I stood then, and I stand now in the sight of the law, a convicted criminal," reiterated Carl bitterly. "A jury of my peers sifted the evi- dence and decided that there was no doubt of my guilt." "Still, I say that you are not a thief 1" said Hattie vehemently; "and you cannot tell me that you are yourself." "Of course," said Englewood sadly, "I plead not guilty before the bar. But any criminal would be likely to do that if he thought he had a chance to UNCLE CARL 373 escape punishment. But it didn't do me any good there; why should 1 deny the crime here." "Mr. Englewood," said Hattie, springing to her feet and standing before him with flushed face, "if the whole world pronounced you a criminal I would not believe it. If you yourself should tell me that you were guilty I would not believe it. If I should see you commit a crime with my own eyes, I would not believe it. For always and forever you are to me the truest, noblest man God ever made!" and turning suddenly, she flung herself -at Mrs. Court- right's feet and buried her face in that good lady's lap. "Oh, mother, why, oh why are people allowed to do and say such things?" "There, there, little daughter," said Mrs. Court- right, "it's all right. I know all about it and I believe as you do. But in politics there seems to be no conscience. Everything will come out right in the end." There was silence for a few moments, and then Englewood slowly arose from his chair, and placed his hand lightly on the bowed head; saying in a broken, almost diffident voice : "I can't thank you Miss Braton, but I want you to know that this is one of the proudest moments of my life. It is worth all and much more than I have gone through with, to win such trust as this; and I bless you for your healing touch on the old wound." He paused a moment, and then turning to Courtright said, "I think that I will go to my room, old friend, and leave you to make such explanations as you think best. I must take the early morning train for Kaloma to face the music." "All right, Englewood," the lawyer replied; "but, 374 UNCLE CARL say! I don't like to have you go over there alone. Would my company be unwelcome? "Not unwelcome ordinarily," said Carl, "but I go now to face constant humiliation, and somehow I think that I can bear it best if alone; and so good night. I'll see you all again in the morning." CHAPTER XXXII Englewood suffered during the next few days. Not that there was much open humiliation for him as he moved about the city; for, save that a few of the coarse-minded, lower strata thought it a smart thing to make sneering remarks as he passed, there was naught in the treatment that he received that would seem to an onlooker different from that to which he had been accustomed in the past. But Englewood was supersensitive in spite of his self-pos- session ; and though he would not turn a hair's breadth from the straight path of duty to court public esteem or to avoid public condemnation, yet to him, as to us all, there was great comfort in feeling that he held the confidence of his cotemporaries. And now, hold- ing his head up, conscious that, whatever his past may have been, he was now at least an honorable man, he yet felt rather than saw a change in the demeanor of his acquaintances. Many indeed were heartily, honestly glad to see him; and greeted him with trusting friendship. But he knew that many would be suspicious of his present in the light of that past which had been revealed in such a harsh manner. And so, even where trust was absolute, Carl would yet shrink with the fear that the truth as told in the newspapers would lessen friendship. He never knew until now how precious to him was the trust of his fellows; and it all hurt. It hurt. It is undeniable that a clean record is one of the most potent factors in successful public life. The masses of the people, while they may be swayed by special issues or emotional arguments, yet hold fast, 37 6 UNCLE CARL as a rule, to the man who has won their confidence by clean, consistent, honest effort. Yet the masses of the people do not come into close contact with the per- sonal life of a public man; and while his few close associates will, because they know him, believe in and defend a true man in spite of the clouds that may darken his reputation to the multitude, the latter must be guided in the main by the record. When, then, it is shown by the indubitable record of the law court that a man has been guilty of crime, the masses must be influenced by it in some measure, no matter what his life has been before or since. As Josh Billings has said, "A reputation once broken may possibly be repaired, but the world will always keep their eyes on the spot where the crack was"; and that break often seems the more serious in proportion to the degree of confidence won before it becomes known. And so this exposure could hardly be other than politically advantageous to Stanhope's candidacy; and could the revulsion of feeling against Englewood be made to hold for a few days, would undoubtedly result in the success at the polls of the corporation's candidate. The president of the Federation was in his office discussing with the members of a sub-committee the serious crisis at hand. "I have received a communi- cation from Mr. Courtright," he said, "and he urges us to hold the mass meeting two or three days earlier than we had intended. He evidently has something up his sleeve that he is confident will help us out; but declines to tell what it is." "Courtright is a man who knows what he is about," said Mr. Howe; "but for all that, I don't like to work in the dark. Do you suppose that it is some exposure of Stanhope that he has in view?" "No," answered the president. "He knows that UNCLE CARL 377 mud-slinging is not our method of work, and I hardly think that he would attempt anything of that kind without our knowing about it first." "How does Englewood feel about it?" asked Cap- tain Davis. "He dreads the ordeal," said the president. "It was with considerable difficulty that I could persuade him that he owed it to us to appear at the meeting and address the people; but he knows nothing of Courtright's part in it. In fact, Courtright particu- larly urged that he should not know until he came. But he says that so long as he must appear, he does not care what night it is." "I may be wrong," said Davis, "but my opinion is this : Courtright, as we all know, is a close friend of Englewood's and believes in him most thoroughly. Doubtless he is collecting some evidence to our candi- date's advantage, that out of modesty Englewood would forbid being made public. For we all know that while constantly helping the unfortunate, he objects to his private benevolences being made a sub- ject for public discussion. I am in favor of follow- ing his friend's advice in this matter; for he un- doubtedly wishes the earlier meeting in order that whatever he has in hand may be made known to the voters of the whole district before election day." "I agree with the Captain," said Mr. Howe. "We have nothing special in view for this meeting save to create enthusiasm for our candidate, if pos- sible, on the eve of election. Courtright is a level- headed man, with considerable experience in political work, and I am sure would do nothing to lessen his friend's chances ; while he may have that in view that would help him greatly." The other members of the committee having like 378 UNCLE CARL views, it was decided to hold their mass meeting on the next Saturday evening; the election occurring the following Tuesday. It was a crowded house that greeted the occupants of the stage on that memorable night. On the plat- form were some noted orators, and some men of wide and honorable reputation, respected as earnest workers rather than as speakers. There were a few scattered hisses from his enemies as Englewood took his seat, but they were quickly silenced by the ap- plause that greeted the president, who immediately arose to open the meeting. After two or three brief "five-minute-talks" by some of the lesser lights, the president said, "We have with us to-night, ladies and gentlemen, a stranger to you all, save by reputation. One whom you have often heard of and read of as a most con- sistent and energetic worker both in private and public life, for truth, honor, and sturdy virtue. He arrived only to-night, and having kept himself in- formed as to the political situation here, desires to address you later on a matter of deepest import at this time. I may say also, that his coming was un- known to us ; was in fact a total surprise to all but a friend of our cause who summoned him in our behalf. We are more than glad of this friend's interest, for we know that through his efforts the success of our cause has been assured. Before introducing this gentleman to you, however, our candidate for repre- sentative, Mr. Englewood, whom most of you have learned to respect during the years of his residence in our city, will address you briefly." Englewood arose midst a profound silence. Shrinking from this publicity, yet scorning to hide UNCLE CARL 379 from those who were seeking his downfall, he stood before them silently for a moment. A faint hiss or two was heard and then a half-hearted attempt at applause died quickly away. It was hard. It seemed to him that it was a mistake for the committee to insist upon his being here. Still, he had nerved himself for the ordeal, and after a few preliminary words touching the work and aims of the Federation, he spoke as follows: "You are undoubtedly somewhat curious, fellow- citizens, as to what reply I shall make to the articles that have recently appeared in our local papers. In truth, it is a peculiarly difficult position in which I am placed. I nold that undue self-depreciation is as much to be deprecated as inordinate self-conceit and knowing my own character better than any one else, I must decline to lower my flag because a fault has been found in my past record. We are none of us free from fault; and yet, what a strange, incon- sistent people we are. A man is considered justified in being very indignant at one who calls him a 'liar' ; and yet people would laugh at, and call a 'hypocrite,' the man who would claim to be always a truth-teller. And so with me. There are those who feel that I ought to show great indignation at the charge of our opponents. Yet, if I should claim to have never committed a sin, I think that those same champions would shake their heads in disapproval. I say to you, fellow-citizens, that I do not feel indignant at the opposition for unearthing what they consider proof of a crime committed by me. But I do feel indignant, and I think justly so, at the coarse, hard manner in which they have made it public. I say to you, and with sorrow, that the records of the court as given by the papers is absolutely correct. I acknowledge that I was convicted by a jury of my 380 UNCLE CARL peers as described. But, ladies and gentlemen, I plead then, as I plead now, 'not guilty' ! In explana- tion I have only two things to offer. First, I was too poor to employ a lawyer, I handled my own case, and made a very poor attorney. Second, I was under a certain promise, that forbade me to introduce evi- dence that might have influenced the jury to bring in a different verdict. I kept my promise. Not that I claim any credit for that, for a promise should be a sacred thing to every one. I can only ask you, gentle- men, to view my course with such leniency as you feel is compatible with the greatest good to the people; to remember that this one blot on my reputation is all that our opponents have been able to discover; and that while I do not by any means claim to be faultless, I certainly do in this affair claim to be blameless." As Englewood sat down, it was with the feeling that his speech was a failure, from a political stand- point; though his conscience told him that he was right. What his audience felt is difficult to say; but what all felt ten minutes later is plain. The president arose as Carl took his seat, and said, "We are not surprised at the confession that Mr. Englewood has made. We rather expected that he would say just about that, and we are sure that he has the sympathy of this audience in the very difficult position in which he has been placed. But we have a surprise in store, not only for you but for him, in the speaker who will follow. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing to you Mr. George Karr of Topeka, Kansas." A tall, dark-complexioned man advanced from the rear of the stage, where he had been concealed from view by a large flag. Englewood started as his name UNCLE CARL 381 was announced; and as the stranger passed him, he reached out. "George," he hoarsely whispered, "come back; remember your mother"; but the gen- tleman paying no attention to him, advanced to the front amidst a tumult of applause. For he was a man known as a fearless, strenuous, and clean worker in the cause of political purity in his own State, with a rapidly growing national reputation as a vigorously active advocate of individual character building as the first essential in safe-guarding the future of our country. He was not a brilliant orator, but he ad- dressed his audience in an impressive, easy, conversa- tional manner that carried conviction with every sen- tence. He spoke as follows : "Ladies and Gentlemen: The gentleman who has just spoken said well, I think, when he asserted that 'undue self-depreciation is as much to be deprecated as inordinate self-conceit.' I agree with him, and I am proud to feel that what I have done during the last several years, the record that I have established, has been such as will enable you to believe implicitly the words I am about to speak to you. I am sure that you will believe what I tell you when, after I have finished, you realize that I in some considerable measure cloud my own reputation, and place myself in an even more unenviable position than Mr. Engle- wood stands in to-night. And I do this in the cause of truth and justice. I want to relate to you a little of my past history. History of myself when a boy, and at this time known to but two men besides my- self. "I was the only son of a good mother. A mother whose love, like the love of so many noble women, blinded her eyes to the possibility that her son might be in some degree unworthy of the unbounded trust 382 UNCLE CARL she had in him. My father died during my early boyhood. At twenty I was drawn into bad associa- tions, and, I must admit, not altogether unwillingly. I learned to play cards, to gamble; to frequent, on the sly, saloons and other questionable places. My ex- penditures and losses soon exceeded my small allow- ance, and I became involved in those miscalled 'debts of honor.' At this time I was in the habit of spending considerable time in the store of a merchant, who, trusting me fully, allowed me the freedom of his place of business. My 'debts of honor' beginning to harass me, I yielded to temptation, and from time to time abstracted, yes, stole from the money-drawer, such sums as I needed. It was not long, however, before one of the employees began to have suspicions that all was not right; and one evening caught me in the act of robbery. And yet, he was a very kindly man. He did not threaten to expose me; but in- viting me to his room, we had a long heart-to-heart talk; and the result of that talk was to nourish in me the seed of whatever of good I have since been able to accomplish. He told me that the proprietor was already aware of a leakage. But he promised me that, if I would make the new effort, and make good the faith my mother had in me, he would keep my secret from all; he would himself replace the money I had taken, and I should repay him when able. He roused in me the dormant manhood, made me realize the end of the path I was following, and spurred me on toward a more worthy manhood. Through his influence I secured a position in Topeka ; and, my lesson well learned, I have since lived a life of honor so far as I have been able. My mother, God bless her, still lives with me ; trusting and hon- oring me with her love and without a suspicion of UNCLE CARL 383 that dark page in my life. What, fellow-citizens, will be her word when she learns of this night's con- fession? What, think you, is my object in making it? I will tell you. When she learns of it and of the reason for my telling it, her eyes will fill with tears and she will fold me in her arms as she says, 'You have done well; your sacrifice wipes out the stain.' For what is my object? Not, I assure you, to pose as a martyr. Not to create a sensation ; but to right a wrong to one of the noblest, most faithful men God ever made. "It was several months before I learned that, after I had left for Kansas, suspicion fell upon my friend. Circumstances so combined as to indicate that he was the guilty thief. He was arrested and tried. Too poor to employ an attorney, he conducted his own case. Faithful to his promise to me, he re- fused to make use of the evidence that would have cleared him and convicted me. The jury pronounced him 'guilty.' When I learned of this, I at once wrote to him with the purpose of making a full confession ; but he urged me to say nothing. 'I can bear the bur- den,' he wrote, 'if you will only prove worthy. You are living a good life now; let me know by your con- tinuance in well-doing that my sacrifice has not been in vain.' I was young and ambitious, and in consider- able measure selfish; and what a heavy cross my friend carried for me I did not realize until to-night. For he has kept his faith to this day. His promise to shield my reputation has never been broken. And to- night, when a man stood before you and admitted the truth of a court record against his honor, he had not one word to say that might cast a shadow of blame on another. Ladies and gentlemen, I confess to you my sin, and I say to you, with full confidence that you 384 UNCLE CARL will believe me, that Carl Englewood, the friend of my young manhood, the bearer of my burden of sin, the earnest helper in my struggles toward the better life, is guiltless of the crime of which he was con- victed, and stands before the world to-day, one of the purest, truest, most faithful of men." As the speaker ceased it seemed as if pandemonium had broken loose. Cheers for Mr. Karr; cheers for Englewood; cheers for the Federation. The noise was deafening. Carl, as soon as his friend began to speak, had quietly withdrawn ; and when in response to calls from the audience a messenger was sent for him, he was not to be found. Late that night Court- right and Mr. Karr went to his room at the hotel, and waited for him. It was past twelve before he entered, and grasping the latter's hand said : "Oh, George, why did you do it? Why did you not spare the mother?" "Because, my friend," was the answer, "both my mother and you have taught me to place truth above all other considerations; and I am not afraid but that her sorrow will be more than outweighed by the good I have accomplished to-night." "He's right, you old sinner," said Courtright. "There is no question but that this night's work means your election. But if you must blame some one, blame me. I am responsible for Mr. Karr's appearance." "But how did you know anything about it," asked Carl. "I thought I kept the secret close." "So you did, so you did," answered the lawyer; "but I went over to X - on a little private de- tective trip of my own, a month ago. From what I learned I put two and two together, and made eight. Then I learned Mr. Karr's address, and he made it UNCLE CARL 385 forty-eight. I have known your secret for a month. He wanted to come right up and straighten it out, but I persuaded him to wait until the other fellows had put their foot in it, and then his confession would cause a revulsion of feeling that would sweep you in with the biggest majority this district has ever known. That was just political finessing. But I confess that it hurt me like sixty to see you worrying about the ex- posure; especially when you persisted in refusing to tell me the secret I knew already. Oh, Englewood, you are the grandest old chump on earth!" CHAPTER XXXIII A fortnight has passed. On the platform of a suburban station near Chicago a little crowd was awaiting the train from the city, that would bring back from their daily labor the fathers and husbands, brothers and sisters. The snow was falling in large "sugar flakes," covering the landscape with its pure whiteness. Children, with healthy, noisy gusto, were revelling in the first snow of the season; and their merry, joyous laughter, their red cheeks and bright eyes; the invigorating, smokeless air; the merry jingle of sleigh bells made a cheery welcome for the labor-weary home-comers. One little group of five our friends they were: Mrs. Courtright, Hattie Braton, and the three children advanced with eager greetings as Mr. Courtright alighted, followed by the tall form of Carl Englewood. They had not seen Mr. Englewood since he had left them on the morning following his exposure; but it is needless to say how proud they were of his vindication, which had resulted in his overwhelming victory at the polls. "Words of congratulation seem superfluous," said Mrs. Courtright as she extended her hand. "You know how we all feel, and that we are always glad to welcome you." "Thank you," answered Carl. "I am only sorry that you cannot understand how / feel. I am made to forget, when with this little circle, that there is any- thing else but brightness in the world. And Miss Braton, too ! You have done much to cheer this old fogy," and he clasped her hand as she quietly greeted him; and then the children came in with their share UNCLE CARL 387 of the welcome, little Beatrice dragging her sled along as they crossed the platform, insisting that her chum must get on for a ride home. "But, little daughter," said Mrs. Courtright, "Mr. Englewood is a great big man, and it wouldn't be dignified for him to do that. You mustn't forget that he is an 'Honorable' now, with a big, big H." "Why," said the little girl, "Uncle Carl's always honorable. That's what makes him such a splendid chum. Isn't it, Uncle Carl?" "Dignity, nothing!" exclaimed Englewood with a pleased smile; "you don't think I'd miss such a chance to get a free ride, do you? If the sled is strong enough to hold me I'm not going to walk a step." And forthwith he sat down, cramping his long legs up out of the snow, and away they all started; the older children helping Beatrice to draw her passenger home, while Courtright pelted him with snow from behind. And so, with merry laughter and eager, happy faces, was Englewood again ushered out of the strife and turmoil of the world into the haven of Courtright's home. And what a home it was ! There shadows were never allowed to enter save with the purpose of being dissipated by the all-pervading light of helpful good-will. There no harsh criticisms of one's fellows, no fault-findings, no ill news from the outer world, no petty jealousies, nor envious strife, nor scandalous gossip could gain a foothold. There were times, it is true, and they were not infre- quent, when the burdens and griefs and wrongs of the outer world found an entrance. But they were discussed only that light might be gained and means suggested whereby the evils might be lessened. There was no cant about these people, no preaching; 3 88 UNCLE CARL but the home atmosphere was naturally so pure, the affection so real, and the ambition to elevate and to be elevated so strong, that the petty cares and strifes of humanity were out of place there; and when per- chance some gossipy caller would yield to the desire to "tell the awful news," it was with a feeling of chagrin of shame that, the chilling silence first, and then a quiet change of subject made the caller realize that slime could not float on these pure waters. But oh, what comfort and happiness abounded here. What pure rollicking fun; and what quiet, satisfying, trusting companionship. While Engle- wood remained with them he felt that each day he gained new strength for his work; a firmer belief in the value of humanity; a deeper trust in the efficacy of the principles of Truth and Love. The days were just long hours of peace and joy. During the morning hours he usually took a long walk in the clear bracing air, sometimes accompanied by Miss Bratbn or the children; returning in time to go through his mail, which was large, before meal- time, and to read his papers. For he wished to keep in touch with public events events of daily increas- ing moment, and in which he was destined to bear an important part. After luncheon, for the dinner was always served after Mr. Courtright's return in the evening, he passed quiet chatty social hours with the two ladies until with noisy, healthful shouts the children would burst in from school. And then what times they had! Out in the snow for a frolic; Carl as much of a child as any of them. Forts were made, snow men set up ; sliding down hill, burrowing in the drifts, throwing balls at each other, laughing, chatter- ing, full of boisterous, life-loving, health-giving ani- UNCLE CARL 389 mation. Thus were the hours passed until time to go down to meet Mr. Courtright at the depot. And then, after the evening meal, came the beautiful cosy hours. Music, reading aloud, games, and quiet com- fortable talks, when all gathered about the warm grate-fire for "our last thinks," as little Beatrice ex- pressed it, before retiring. "Ralph is turning out to be a fine young fellow, isn't he?" said Courtright one evening as they were thus gathered about the glowing coals. "Indeed he is," answered Carl. "Ralph is pure gold; faithful in his work, courageous and clean morally, and loyal to his friends. He will be a man of more than ordinary worth, I think." "We expect him here next week," said Mrs. Court- right. "He wrote to Arthur saying that he has an offer of a fine position and that he wants to see us and talk some things over before he accepts it. He wants 'Uncle Carl' to be sure to be here." "Well, now, that's too bad," said Englewood. "I really ought not to stay over; there are many things that I must see to at Kaloma. But you people can advise the youngster just as well as I." "Come now, come now, you old humbug!" said Courtright. "You haven't fairly settled down yet, and here you go tearing off again." "I've been here ten days," said Carl, "and that's a long time for me to be away from my work." "Ten days!" exclaimed the lawyer, "not much! Why it's only let's see ; you came last hm-m-m "Yes," said Englewood, "I came a week ago Mon- day, and really I feel that I must return Saturday at the latest. If Ralph really wishes to see me person- ally he can meet me at your office Saturday afternoon, before I take the boat." 390 UNCLE CARL There was a chorus of "noes" from them all, but they did not avail to change Carl's determination, and soon they separated for the journey into dream- land ; the older friends remaining for a little further chat. "What a charming young lady Hattie has grown to be," said Courtright, as with a smiling good night she closed the door behind her. "I declare, if I hadn't the best on earth myself, I'd try to capture her." "Hattie is a dear little girl," said Mrs. Courtright. "I don't know how I could get along without her sweet winning ways. It's such a pity that she is alone in the world." "Not alone," said Englewood. "One can never be alone who has such friends as you people. But is she without blood relations? I have never inquired particularly." "Nor have I," said the lady. "She is true and pure, and that is all I have cared to know. Though she is not at all secretive about other things, she never even suggests anything pertaining to her past life. But didn't you learn about her parentage when you found her out West?" "Why, no," said Englewood thoughtfully. "She did tell me something of her history, that her parents were both dead, and that her guardian deserted her out there; but, really, I did not pay the attention I should have, and so many other things happened at that time that what she told me was forgotten. I only saw that she was very unfortunate and an em- phatic misfit with her environment. But it doesn't concern us. She is a young lady to be proud of, and nothing else matters unless she wishes to disclose her early history." UNCLE CARL 39 1 "Do you know, my friend," said the lady, "that I had hoped that you would settle down before long in a snug little home of your own; perhaps with just such a dear girl as Hattie." "Wife's right," interposed Courtright. ^ "You have no business to keep your high-mightiness to yourself any longer. It's selfish of you; you ought to be ashamed of yourself when there are so many fine damsels anxious to hen-peck you, and you keep aloof." "But I'm so particular," said Englewood face- tiously. "And you said yourself that there were no others of your wife's class." "Oh, of course, if you are aiming at something so much higher than you deserve as that, your case is hopeless," said the lawyer, gently patting his wife's hand. "But, of course, old friend, it's your own affair and we have no right to interfere. I know how tenderly you remember the one who has gone, and I respect your sorrow. Only, there is such a thing as keeping a wound open until it becomes an ulcerous sore, when the law of nature intends that time shall heal it." "Ah well, my dear friends," said Carl thought- fully, "I don't mind telling you, who are so kindly interested, that it is my hope some time when I am free to do so; when I have found the wanderer whom my carelessness so 1 deeply wronged, and have cared for her, and I can feel free to live somewhat more for my own selfish comfort to win, if I can, the love of the little girl who just left us. I confess to you a deep affection for Hattie Braton. Not such a love as, long years ago, Irene awakened in me. That pas- sionate emotion of my youth is gone forever, though it is and shall always be a sacred memory. But if 392 UNCLE CARL this little girl could care for such an old chump as I, I think that I could make her happy. I am sure that I could ; and oh, I do long for a happy home of my own." "Good for you, old chap !" exclaimed Courtright. "And I am sure that when you speak to her the answer will not be 'no.' I wish you joy in advance. But speaking of your ward, I presume that you have had no inkling of Jenkins yet, have you?" "No," replied Englewood; "and that is one reason that I feel that I should get back to Kaloma as soon as possible. I left a trustworthy friend on the watch for me over there, but he has business that will take him out of town next Monday. Oh, by the way, just let me write a card to Ralph for you to mail in the morning. It may be that he has some special reason for wanting to see me." And sitting down at the desk Englewood hastily wrote, telling the lad to call at Courtright's office Saturday afternoon if he wanted him particularly. And then, with cordial "good nights," the friends separated. The remaining hours of Carl's visit passed quickly into the land of pleasant memories, and we will next pass a half hour with him in the private office of his lawyer friend, ere seeing him safely back to his work at Kaloma. Ralph Deneen had just entered, and after the first greeting had plunged at once into the thick of his reasons for wanting to see Uncle Carl. Mr. Courtright, being busily engaged in his outer office, they were alone. "You see, sir," said Ralph, "you have been so very kind to me, and are so interested in having me turn out well, that somehow I don't like to do anything im- portant without letting you know about it and getting your approval. Now about this position. Mr. Cole- UNCLE CARL 393 man is one of the biggest contractors in the country, and he often writes to the head of a college and asks for students who are capable, but who would be bene- fited by practical experience, to assist in his contract work. He does not, it is true, pay very high wages to them, but it is in this way that he gets in touch with men of our profession; and when one is com- petent and faithful he helps him to work after his graduation. So this time the Prexy has recommended me. I will have two or three months' work on the bridgework at St. Louis, and also get some practical building experience on the large grain elevators that Mr. Coleman is building at Kansas City. This won't interfere with my graduating next June, as I shall keep up with my University work. But it will be a mighty help afterward. In fact, I know that I can make myself so useful as to be sure of work just as soon as I graduate." "No doubt the idea is a good one," said Carl. "While practice without understanding the theory of construction in large matters is almost always labor thrown away, theory without practice is also of little value; and I believe that this practical applica- tion of what you have learned will be of decided ad- vantage to you; especially as your instructors have reported very satisfactory progress on your part. I am not afraid that my young friend will be overly conceited if I tell you, Ralph, that I am proud of you and of what you have accomplished." "Thank you, sir," said Ralph, flushing with pleas- ure; "I am glad that you are pleased with me, for then you must be pleased with yourself. It was you that made a man of me." "No," said Carl; "no special credit to me for that. I merely helped to start you. You did the 394 UNCLE CARL growing yourself. But was that all that you wanted to see me about?" "Well, no, sir," said the young man hesitatingly. "There is something else, but on that I am not so sure of your approbation. I I But you must know it some time, and I'd rather have your ap- proval now than later. The fact is, I am in love; and she is just the dearest girl ! And now that my prospects are good I want to become engaged; be- fore some other young fellow gets her, don't you know?" "Well, Ralph, this is something of a stunner!" ex- claimed Englewood. "Of course you must get mar- ried some time, that is the only complete life for any man; but I had not thought of your doing so for some time yet. A man should always be able to give his lady a good, cosy, comfortable nest before he takes *her from home. But then, all you ask for now is an engagement; and if the young lady and her parents are willing I have no objection, for I am sure that you would make no unworthy choice. Do I know the happy girl?" "Yes, sir," said Ralph, "I should rather think that you do. It's Hattie Braton ; and I think that you'll agree that she's just about the dearest, sweetest girl in the world." "Hattie Braton!" Ralph's eyes were turned toward the window and he did not see the start, and then the tightening of the lips as Carl repeated the name, and then in a lower voice said, "Yes, Miss Braton is a most charming young lady. But, Ralph, are you sure that she cares for you in that way?" "Well, sir," replied Ralph, "she has never said so, and I haven't asked her, because I wanted your con- sent first. But I have seen enough to make me think UNCLE CARL 395 that she does care a little for me; and I want your good word to back me up, if you think that I am worthy of her." "No man is worthy of her, Ralph," said Carl. "No man that I have ever known is worthy to touch the garment of a pure woman. We are all of us coarse in comparison with her; but I know of no one who comes nearer being worthy of my little flower than you, Ralph." Poor Englewood ! Another bitter draught for you to swallow. The hopes that you had had that, at last, you could see a home-light shining for you alone, are dashed against the hard heart of Fate; and again the lonely man must drift companionless upon the great sea of life. Englewood did not realize how deeply his heart had been involved until Ralph's abrupt disclosure. But now the realization was em- phatic. He loved her, deeply, purely, strongly; and now, for he could not doubt but that Miss Braton would choose the younger man, he would place her image, too, in that sacred niche in his heart, side by side with Irene's dear memory. For a few moments he sat silent, while Ralph, evidently intent upon his own pleasant prospects, absent-mindedly toyed with the leaves of a book that lay upon the desk. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Carl spoke. "Yes, Ralph, I'll back you up. I think that if she loves you you will make her happy, and you may say to her that old Uncle Carl gives his full approval to your engagement. And, my boy," he rose abruptly and seized Ralph's hand, "never dare to cause her a single tear of sorrow or regret. Model your home- life on that of Courtright's and you will be as happy as man can be. Bless you both !" He turned and strode into the outer office, where 396 UNCLE CARL though it still lacked an hour of time to start for the boat, he seized his suit-case, and with a hasty good- by to Courtright and a muttered hint about an errand to do before he went to the wharf, he strode out of the building. That night a man paced nervously back and forth on the deck of a trans-Michigan steamer. A damp snow was falling, and clung to the wood work in heavy masses, and wet with its cold clammy touch the face and clothing of the solitary person, who would pause for a moment at the rail and watch where, in the light from the boat's lamps, the water surged and swirled in forbidding black oiliness; and listened to the ceaseless hiss of the disturbed monster as the ship's prow cut its way through ; and then turned to resume his walk up and down the slushy deck. Lonely, forlorn, heart-sick! "Oh, Irene!" he mut- tered, and looked upward where the dark clouds scudded across the heavens. "If my work was only finished ; if your Master would only say, 'Well done,' and call me to the gate! I am weary, dear one." But the rising wind moaning about the boat, and in the distance a gleaming eye from a sister ship, seemed to mock and accentuate his loneliness. He sighed. "I must work on and on and on, all alone. And yet, there is a satisfaction in helping others a little. If those two youngsters who seem to be made for each other are happy, what matters it that I, who have been blessed in that I was able to help them on, am left alone. Their love should be enough to warm my cold isolation; and mayhap, in the future, there shall be a comfortable arm-chair by their fire-side for me, and other little children shall cluster around with their loving little ways, to listen to old Uncle Carl's stories. On, I have much to be grateful for. Much, UNCLE CARL 397 much! The only thing I lack is that which I want the most. But this will never do, you old grumbler turn in, turn in, and get a good night's rest," and he turned abruptly about and entered his stateroom. As he raised the window-shade before lying down, he paused to look out over the waters. At that moment the clouds parted, and he saw glimmering and twinkling beyond them "their star." He reached out his hand as in salutation : "I am not alone, for your dear memory is with me, Irene, my pearl." And then he lay down and slept. CHAPTER XXXIV Again Carl Englewood took up his round of duties. Though as earnest, as pains-taking, as faith- ful as ever, he lacked somewhat of his old spirit. "Getting old," he thought. "Perhaps a little tired and ambitionless." As the months rolled by his face took on an additional line or two of care, and his eyes were perhaps a little more expressive of thoughtful sadness; but he did his work with the same earnest- ness and fidelity as ever. He had declined the press- ing invitations of his Chicago friends to pass the Christmas holidays with them, and had remained quietly in Kaloma. Christmas was always a some- what sad day for him, being the anniversary of the burial of Irene Denton. And this year it seemed ex- ceptionally sad, for he had no doubt as to the success of Ralph's suit; and the denial of his own half- formed plans, the failure of his hope that some time he might find in Hattie Braton a companion for a cosy little home of his own, had added materially to his loneliness. He wondered a little that none of them had sent him word of the engagement. But he was in the habit of believing that each person knew his own affairs best, and doubtless there was suffi- ciently good reason for their silence. Perhaps the young people wished to keep it secret for a while; and Ralph, he knew, had gone to St. Louis to fill the position offered him. There was a strange feature of Englewood's char- acter. While he could clearly see the rights of others, and would resent neglect or thoughtlessness where others were concerned, he seemed to not even see, UNCLE CARL 399 and certainly he never resented, like discourtesies toward himself. He seemed to feel as if he received all that he deserved even if not all that he desired; and would overlook, without question as to the good will of others, all short-comings toward himself that were not radically wrong in principle. In fact, he was one of the few men who are not spoiled by flat- tery ; one of the few who do not become more or less conceited if a few compliments are paid them, and think that they are of greater worth than their actions warrant. And so, Carl did not feel neglect at the course of the young people, knowing that he would hear all about it in their own good time. Still, he did not like just at this time to meet with Hattie, in those home-surroundings that would so forcibly remind him of the happiness beyond his reach. He therefore sent a package of remembrances to the Courtright home, and himself received greetings from them all, otherwise passing his Christmas holidays much as he passed other seasons. But his life was a busy one in spite of his lack of ambition. Aside from his regu- lar work, his duties as representative filled his hours to the brim ; and he had but little time for brooding. As the spring months drew near, Laura Brentford and her mother returned to Kaloma for a few days' vacation; during which that young lady announced her desire to not return to her studies for the bal- ance of the year. She argued, "If I can stay here and get up a class in music, I will get a practical ex- perience in my studies that will enable me to eani a higher standing than I could if I continued as I am now; and if you are willing, Uncle Carl, I would much rather do it that way, returning next year to finish the course of study"; and Englewood had agreed, saying, "I know so little about music, that I 400 UNCLE CARL cannot judge for you. If your instructors think it advisable, it is all right. All I am after is to do the best for you; but what that best is you and your teacher can tell better than I can." And so it was arranged; and Carl forthwith established the youngster in Kaloma, furnishing her with a piano and other accessories for studio work ; to say nothing of many little luxuries and comforts to make her happy and contented, and in which her mother shared. And by his influence he also secured for her a goodly class of pupils, thus establishing her on ^an inde- pendent basis. While Englewood's object was worthy in all that he did for this little girl, we are of the opinion that he rather overdid it; that a less liberal outlay would have accomplished better results. To make it necessary for her to work for the means to start, rather than to at once establish her on an independent footing by gifts, would, we apprehend, have given the girl a truer appreciation of what she received; and might have added strength to a rather weak character. However, the young lady received all that Carl provided for her, not without thanking him, it is true, but for all that, with an apparent blindness to the real meaning of it all a seeming be- lief that she was entitled, as a matter of course, to whatever of good came to her. She seemed to feel that she had rather a proprietary interest in her gen- erous friend, and failed altogether to realize his self- denial, his sacrifice of his own comfort, and his earnest desire to help her to build up a strong, worthy character, rather than to live an easy, luxurious life. And thus, in the midst of his multitude of cares, he established her in the way she had chosen, without questioning her fidelity; though not yet had she re- UNCLE CARL 401 sponded as he wished to the test of the "cloak" she was to buy for her schoolmate long ago. Later, when referring to his liberality to Laura, Mr. Englewood said, "I had done what I could for the little girl; I had sown all of the seeds that I thought right, and there was then nothing more to do but to be assured that every opportunity for growth be given her. If she was what I hoped, the seed would grow; for there was nothing to hinder. If her character was not what I hoped, the seed would die anyway. I simply chose to so place her that, if my labor was to be in vain, it would be due to the in- nate qualities of herself rather than to lack of oppor- tunity, or neglect on my part; while if her life was to be a success, the means at hand would be sufficient for her progress at the time." Let us now leave our friend to his work, and re- turn to the Courtright home, whither Ralph, with a heart full of love, and confident of the success of his suit, had repaired immediately after his interview with Mr. Englewood. His welcome was cordial; for all liked the manly young fellow. But Mrs. Court- right sighed as she went about her housework; for with a women's intuition she divined the purpose of his visit at this time. But that lady was fair, and while it was the wish of her heart that the older friend should be blessed with a happy home, she in no way sought to influence Hattie, nor did she do aught to interfere with Ralph's purpose. It was in the afternoon of the following Sabbath, and Ralph and Hattie were sitting beside the library hearth. The young man had, in spite of a protest from the girl, told her of his earnest love, of his 26 402 UNCLE CARL hopes, his prospects, and of Uncle Carl's approval of his suit. "Oh, Ralph, I am so sorry," Hattie said. "I have never thought of you in that way. What you ask I cannot grant ; for I do not love you at least, not as you wish." "But if you love me at all, be it ever so little," pleaded Ralph, "that is all I ask now ; for it would grow I am sure that I could make it grow ; and you do care for me a little, don't you?" "Yes, Ralph," she answered, "I do care for you ; I love you ; but only as a very, very dear friend. I can never be your wife. Never." "But, Hattie," persisted Ralph, "may I not hope? Surely there is no other to come between us, is there? And if only you will give me hope, there is nothing that I would not do to win your love. Nothing that is honorable, I mean. And, little girl, let me plead, too, in Uncle Carl's name. He approved. And I am sure he would not do that if it were not right in every way." "Oh, Uncle Carl !" said Hattie, and a flush passed over her face. "The best of God's noblemen; not even for him would I give my hand to another." "Another," said Ralph, startled at the suggestion ; "is there then another? I have no other right to ask it, Hattie, than the right given by my own great love. Tell me, is there another to whom you have given your heart?" But the girl bowed her head and gazed wistfully at the coals without replying. "Can you not tell me?" insisted he, after a pause. "If it is so, I am sure that I I wish him great joy. But if it is not so, then I may hope, I shall hope to UNCLE CARL 403 win yet. And Uncle Carl will back me up too; he said he would." "Hush, Ralph, hush !" said Hattie, suddenly arousing herself. "Don't use his name so; please don't. It hurts, Ralph. There is no hope for you." "Then there must be some other. May I know who it is?" said Ralph. "No other has asked me for what you have, Ralph," said the girl. "But you love?" said he. "The best, noblest man in the world," said Hattie, turning suddenly with cheeks aflame; "and I am proud of it, Ralph, though I love unsought." "The noblest man in the world," echoed poor Ralph, a light slowly breaking, "Why, Hattie, there is only one such for us. It is not, it cannot but, oh, little girl, tell me true; is it Uncle Carl?" Hattie turned again to the fire, and after a pause said, "Ralph, dear friend, you have some right to know, for you have paid me the highest compliment that a true man can give to woman ; and your affec- tion demands the only return I can make confidence. I have untold confidence in you and in your honor, and I know that what I tell you will never be men- tioned by you. I do love Mr. Englewood, with my whole heart and soul. To me he is the very ideal of manhood. A saint, if there ever was one in human form ; but I have no hope in that love. He has never sought me in that way ; he never will ; for to him I am only a child that he had pity upon and lifted from the mire. A man such as he would never think of me in that way, if indeed his great heart could single out any one woman for his wife. I have no hope that he will ever love me in that way; I do not ask it. But 404 UNCLE CARL to him I yield all of my heart, and thank God that it is permitted me to have such a friend. "This is a strange confession for a girl to make, Ralph ; but I make it to you that you may know how hopeless your own suit is. For, loving the best man on earth, I could never give myself to a lesser man ; and you know that not you, nor any one else, can come near his stature of manhood. You and I, Ralph, are good friends; let us remain so, will you not; and respect my confidence in you?" The poor fellow had bowed his head upon his hand as Hattie made her confession, and he gulped down a sob as she ceased. There was silence for some minutes ere he rose from his chair, and throw- ing back his head and squaring his shoulders with a determined air said, reaching down and taking her hand, "Hattie, I would fight to the death to win what you have, unasked, given to my best friend. But I do not blame you, for he is indeed one man in a mil- lion. Were it any one else I should still strive. But he has done so much, sacrificed so much, and through all has been such a noble, pure man and faithful friend to us all, that I would not take from him a single flower of joy, if I could. He it was that taught me to be a man. But for him I would have been of the scum of the earth, instead of being considered worthy to clasp this dear hand; and now, I too can make a sacrifice for his sake, and yield you willingly to him. For I know that, when he learns of your feeling for him, there shall be no question of your union." "Oh, Ralph!" said Hattie, "that must never be. You must never say one word of what I have told you to any living person. I would be mortified to death. I trusted you, Ralph." UNCLE CARL 405 "And I shall be faithful to the trust," said Ralph. "But I know that Fate will not long allow two such hearts, made for each other, to remain apart; and in that belief I see my own hopes die." "Poor boy!" said Hattie, rising, "I wish for your sake it could be otherwise." "And so do I," said he. "But as it cannot be, only remember, little girl, that I prize your friendship more than I do the love of any other woman on earth. In that friendship I am not without some comfort. And now, you will excuse me if I go out for a walk, will you not? I must adjust myself to the changed conditions if I can, before meeting the rest of the family." ^ So saying, he strode but of the room, leaving Hattie standing before the coals. "Ralph is a grand, good boy," she mused. "He has a heart of gold that some good woman will yet make happy. Oh ! that that other lonely, sorrowful heart could also be happy; even if it should take him away from us. He deserves the best woman in the world ; but not for me is his love, in spite of Ralph's 'Fate.' ' Brushing away a tear, the girl, with a little sigh, joined the family in the living-room. Ralph re- turned the next day to the city, and soon after joined his co-workers at St. Louis. Before going, he called at Mr. Courtright's office, and asked him to tell Mr. Englewood that "he had not been able to accomplish the plan they had discussed at their last meeting." But Mr. Courtright, thinking it something connected with the young man's studies, and of no particular importance, did not charge his mind with the mes- sage; and before communicating with Englewood again it was forgotten. And so our friend was left in ignorance of the unhappy ending of Ralph's hopes. CHAPTER XXXV It is a night in May. One of those quiet, fragrant nights, when the air, pregnant with the fresh odors of awakening nature, fills the lungs with refreshing strength; and the first faint sounds of sentient life proclaim the full chorus of joyful existence soon to follow. The graceful crescent of the new moon sheds a subdued light over the city; and the cheery laughter and sauntering footsteps proclaim the people's appreciation of the balmy air of spring; but out of touch with such "silly sentiment," morbidly, angrily cursing at his position and the current of adverse advents that had placed him there, Jack Stan- hope closed his open window with an impatient bang, drew down the curtain, and resumed his uneasy walk to and fro. "I'm in a devilishly tight hole," he muttered. "But if I can only hold out until fall, I'll come out ahead of that sanctimonious whelp yet. Once get old Cramer's estate in my hands and I'll fix his meat for him. Damn him ! His cursed luck balks me at every turn. Who would have thought that such a mare's- nest could be stirred up out of that exposure of his stealing. Oh, well! the cards must run my way some time. But the very devil is in it now ; and if I don't find some way to raise the wind and take up my outstanding paper, I'll be sold up bag and bag- gage. Curse the luck; and double-dyed curses on Englewood!" Thus angrily hurling anathemas at all that had contributed to his failure, he nervously paced the floor, until, with a rap on the door, and then without UNCLE CARL 407 waiting for it to be opened, a figure slouched into the room. Stanhope stared in amazement, and then as he recognized his visitor uttered another curse. "Jenkins!" he exclaimed. "What in the name of the imps of hell are you doing here ; and where have you been all these years ?' ' "Ruther a cordyal greetin' to give a feller thet ye hevn't seen fer so long, hain't it, my dear friend?" said that worthy as he spat viciously on the carpet. "Cordial, you devil," said Stanhope, "I hoped that you were dead long ago! Well, and what do you want?" "Money," was the laconic answer. "Money, eh?" said Stanhope. "Well, you don't get it, see. I'm strapped; and if I wasn't, you made such a mess of things that I wouldn't give it to you if I had it. Why didn't you shut up Liz's mouth in- stead of letting her go down there and raise particu- lar hell with our plans; and what have you been up to since?" "Oh, come now, pal," said Jenkins; "none of your pleadin' poverty to me. I know you all right, all right. But as to Liz, why she got down there before I cud ketch her. I went straight to St. Lou, 'nd found she'd gone, 'nd I tuk the furst train 'nd fol- lered her. 'Nd then when I ketched up with her, I fixed the goose all right, but I saw a a But you'd never believe me, so whut's the use of tellin' yer? What I want now is the rocks, see; and," striking the table a blow with his fist, "thet's what I've came fur, 'nd thet's what I'm goin' to git before I leave here." "Nonsense !" said Stanhope. "You can't get blood out of a turnip. I'm strapped, I tell you. But what was it you saw?" 4 o8 UNCLE CARL "Ez to the 'blood,' Mister Stanhope," said Jen- kins, "I don't know about turnips, but by G d! ef I don't git the money I'll git blood out of you; mind whut I'm tellin' yeh. But I don't mind tellin' yuh whut I seen. I wuz talkin' to Liz on the beach 'nd had got the gurl to thinkin' jest ez she'd orter think, when I looked up 'nd I seen a ghost. Thet's what I seen. Thet cursed Englewood's ghost. 'Nd I skeedaddled out uv thet neighborhood quicker'n hell, I tell yeh ! 'Nd 'fore I knowed it I'd fell in the drink. 'Nd when I came to I found thet a boat hed fished me out 'nd I wus aboard 'nd bound fer South Ameriky on a tradin' cruise. 'Nd I didn't hev a chanst to git back until now. When I did git the chanst you bet yer sweet life I made a bee-line fer this here ranch, to git the money whut's comin' to me. 'Nd I'm goin' to git it too, see?" Stanhope looked scornfully at his partner in crime. "A ghost!" he sneered; "Englewood's ghost! 1 would to G d you had seen it, but you didn't. Englewood is alive and well, and it was he himself that you saw down there, where he went to spoil our game. If you had been half a man you would have stood your ground and wiped the whelp out of exist- ence." "You lie, Stanhope !" said Jenkins; "I know it was his ghost, fer I killed him myself. There! it's out, 'nd I don't keer if you do know it. This is only one of yer tricks to git out of payin' me the money." "No trick about it, Jenkins," returned Stanhope. "Englewood didn't fall down that shaft. He caught hold of the top of the cage, and was hauled up safe and sound. I tell you he is alive and in this city now, and I have no doubt that he would be mighty glad to know that you are here, too." UNCLE CARL 409 "Are you sure of that, Stanhope?" asked Jenkins soberly. "Are you lyin' or tellin' the truth?" "The truth, as sure as I stand here," asserted Stanhope. "Then," said Jenkins, "thet's so much more reason thet I git thet money to wunst. I'll hev to clear out uv here immegiate. You've got to fork over a cool thousand, 'nd do it d n quick, too." "But I haven't got it; and I can't get it," said Stanhope. "I'm strapped, I tell you." "I don't believe it," said Jenkins. "Once for all now, curse ye ! Wull ye give me the money?" "No, Jenkins," said the villain; "I can't and I won't." "Think twice," said the scoundrel. "You'd better. You fork over or it's to hell with you ! We're alone here now, 'nd my blood's up," and he drew a knife from his breast. "So that's your game, is it?" said Stanhope, draw- ing a revolver from his pocket. "Then if it's hell for one of us, you will be the one!" and he leveled the weapon at Jenkins, who, with a snarl of rage, rushed toward him, his knife uplifted. There was a loud re- port, and with a cry of pain Jenkins stopped for an instant, and then hurled himself onto his opponent in a death grapple. Stanhope, dropping his weapon, seized with one hand the man's wrist, that he might not use his knife, and with the other sought his an- tagonist's throat. But Jenkins managed to trip him, and they fell together, rolling over and over on the floor; the one striving to use, the other to prevent the use, of the blade. It soon became evident to Stanhope that his enemy was weakening. Indeed, as was later shown, he had received a fatal wound, and it was but a few moments ere, with a final desperate 4 io UNCLE CARL effort to accomplish his purpose, he ceased his strug- gles, and with a gasp rolled over on the floor an inert, tenantless body. As Stanhope rose it was to face a horror-stricken group that, startled by the report of the pistol, had hastily summoned an officer, and reached the door in time to witness the last struggle of the contestants. That night John Stanhope passed behind prison bars. CHAPTER XXXVI A month later Mr. Courtright called at Carl Englewood's office to tell him that his family were once more settled in their summer home, and to urge him to renew the previous summer's association with them. He found his friend in an unusually down- cast mood, from which it was in vain that he tried to arouse him. Though Courtright had learned of Stan- hope's predicament, he did not, until Englewood ex- plained the details, attribute his "fit of the blues" to that. But so it was. When Mr. Englewood learn- ed of the crime in the next morning's paper, he had at once hastened to the morgue and indentified the dead body as that of the man he had so long sought; and with his death vanished his hope of finding the trail that would lead him to his lost ward unless, indeed, he could induce the criminal-in-chief to disclose her whereabouts. He had, with this end in view, visited Stanhope in his cell; but only to meet with revilings and curses. That worthy scoundrel had no infor- mation to give him. Indeed, if he had had the knowledge, he would have refused to reveal it. On one of Carl's visits, when he had pleaded and urged, offering every inducement that he could to the imprisoned man to persuade him to lend his efforts to assist in righting the wrong even to the offer of bearing the expense of able counsel in Stanhope's forthcoming trial, for he knew of his straitened financial circumstances, the fellow had snarlingly replied, "I want you to under- stand,, you whelp, that I shall not help you an iota in the matter. What I know, I know; but even if 4 i2 UNCLE CARL I could produce the girl at an hour's notice, you haven't money enough to tempt me to do it. Cursed meddler that you are, I'll win yet and give you the taste of hell that you have tried to give me. I can never be convicted of this crime. It was a clear case of self-defense. And I'll be out of here in time to get old Cramer's property in the fall. So it's up to you to clear out of here and be damned to you !" And Carl had returned sorrowfully to his rooms; blaming himself more than ever that he had proved to be such a failure in carrying out the sacred trust of his old friend, and without hope that he could now right the wrong done to his ward, though determined to still exert every possible effort to that end. He had received, as Mr. Courtright had predicted, a handsome sum as first dividend on the stock left to him by Stuart; and this he had placed at the dis- posal of the detective bureau to continue the search. While his lawyer friend regretted this, believing that further outlay was useless, he yet sympathized with the feeling that prompted it, and forebore to express his disapproval. But all efforts at arousing Engle- wood from his despondency were futile; and it was without enthusiasm that assent was given to the plans for the summer." "I presume that Miss Braton is with you, is she not?" asked Englewood. "Not yet," was the answer. "She has passed a very busy winter. Has engagements with several publishing houses, and is in great demand. But she writes that she will be with us next week for a good, long, happy summer. She particularly inquired about you, with the hope that you would be with us." "She is a dear little girl," said Englewood, "and UNCLE CARL 413 I shall like to see her again. I suppose that she and Ralph have settled on their future, have they not?" "She and Ralph?" said the lawyer, "why, no; I haven't heard of anything in that way. Why do you ask." "Only that Ralph loves the little girl," said Carl, "and he expressed his desires to me when he called on me at your office last fall. I understood that he in- tended to speak to her then. I presume that they want to keep it a secret for a while though; these young folks do so love a secret." "Oh, ho! that accounts for it," thought Court- right. "I thought that the young fellow looked rather down in the mouth when I saw him last. He proposed to the girl and the dear little minx refused him. Poor fellow!" "That reminds me, old fellow," he said, "speaking of Ralph, he gave me a message for you when he left us to go to St. Louis; and as I haven't seen you since it slipped my mind entirely. He wanted me to say to you that some plan or arrangement that he had talked over with you had failed, or he'd changed his mind. Something like that. Of no special import- ance, was it?" "Plan had failed!" exclaimed Englewood. "And that's the reason I never But, Courtright, are you sure that there is no engagement between Ralph and Hattie Braton?" "Morally sure, Englewood," answered the lawyer. "I rather think that we would have heard of it if there was. To tell the truth, I'm only guessing mind you, I don't believe the girl will ever marry. The only man suited to her is such a blamed chump that he doesn't dare to reach out and take as sweet a little beauty as God ever made." 4 i4 UNCLE CARL Englewood showed the first signs of real anima- tion that he had in a week. Rising, he began walk- ing up and down the room, and finally coming to a stand before his friend and throwing back his should- ers uttered a deep sigh of was it relief? "I'm sorry for the poor boy," he said, "if it is true that Hattie refused him. But I am not conceited enough to believe that I am anything more to her than a good friend. However, let's get to the boat. It's about time, and I am in hopes that I'll feel more like a man when we get on the water again. Heigh, ho! what a mixture of joy and sorrow this life is any- way." "It seems good to have you with us again," said Mrs. Courtright that evening. She and Englewood had strolled down to the little dock and were watch- ing a boat race between the children and Mr. Court- right. "And I am glad to be here again," he had answer- ed. "It has seemed years since I left you all; and I guess I must be getting old, for I haven't seemed to feel the zest in life that I should. Worked a little too hard, perhaps." "Something in that, maybe," said the lady, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder for a moment, "and then, too, you have had some heavy sorrows with no friends near to help you bear them. It seems to me that that is the most blessed part of friendship, 'to bear one another's burdens.' ' "It is a blessing," said Carl; "but mine have been such as I could bear best alone, I think. At least," with a quiet smile, "one of them was." "And how is the little college-girl coming on?" asked Mrs. Courtright "little Laura, Laura Brentford? Was that her name?" UNCLE CARL 415 Carl's face became suddenly stern. "Not well, not well," he said. "That was another of my disap- pointments." "I'm sorry to hear that," said the lady. "Wasn't she equal to the work?" "I don't like to criticise her too severely," said Carl, "for I was perhaps much to blame. To use one of Erickso-n's favorite expressions, I tried to 'make an oak tree out of a gooseberry bush.' And it can't be done. Not only did I fail to make the oak tree, but I fear that I spoiled her from being even a good gooseberry bush. I tried to do too much. If I had only helped her to make the best of herself in her own sphere, instead of trying to lift her above it, I would perhaps have accomplished some good; but as it is her work seems to be unsuccessful, and I am largely to blame." "Oh, do stop blaming yourself for other people's faults," chided Mrs. Courtright. "You do your part well ; but you can't do it all. But what is amiss with the girl?" "She gave up her college work three months ago," explained Carl, "on the plea that a little practical experience in teaching would enable her to go back another year, and secure better results than she could otherwise. I am so ignorant of musical matters that I could not judge what was best, and left the decision to her and iher instructors. The result was that she established herself in Kaloma at considerable ex- pense and was " "And you paid the bills," interjected Mrs. Court- right. "I know you." on a prosperous footing, as I supposed," con- tinued Englewood, ignoring the interruption. "A short time ago she came to me with a request for a 4 i6 UNCLE CARL small loan, which she would return in a week or so. Without question I gave it to her, and the next I knew of her affairs was when, a week later, I received a short note from her from the West telling me that she was tired of all that I was doing for her, and would bear it no longer. It was a shock, I can tell you ; but not a greater one than to learn from V that I had been greatly misinformed as to her ability and progression in her studies. "If it were any one else than you, I would say that perhaps she was not without some justification," said Mrs. Courtright. "There are so many, you know, who are more or less benevolent, and yet are so officiously meddlesome as to be obnoxious. But I know that you are not of that kind, for I have seen so much of your work, especially with Hattie and Ralph." "I know, I know," said Carl, "but I hardly think that it was anything of that kind. I know that it was not. Every little thing that I have done for Laura was received as a matter of course, and even more was asked for at times. Indeed, up to the time of her leaving there had not been the first word of disagreement or irritation, or suggestion of irksome- ness ; and her last act, as I have said, was to ask for a loan. But it is not her giving it all up that I feel, so much as the manner of her doing it. She had every reason to know that I would deny her nothing in reason, that all I sought was her own happiness; and yet she chose to leave without a word to intimate her intentions, without even saying good-by. Just simply seemed to think that I had no claim to her con- sideration, and that the building that I was trying to help her erect wasn't worth considering. I must simply drop the incomplete work. It was discourtesy, UNCLE CARL 417 to say the least, downright discourtesy; and coming without the least warning, it hurt me deeply. I can- not feel that one who has been so remiss in such a manifest, simple duty, can be at heart true to any one or any cause." "Well, I hope that this will be a lesson to you, my friend," said Mrs. Courtright indignantly. "I don't understand you," said Carl. "A lesson in what?" "In doing so much for other people," she replied. "Making yourself poor and working hard for those who have not a particle of appreciation." "Mrs. Courtright, I am surprised," exclaimed Carl, "that you should suggest that, because this one little girl has proved to be not a success, I should withdraw from such work, to 'take it as a lesson.' The world is full of the needy and worthy. We can- not always succeed, but I do not think that we should cease striving just because we cannot always cull the flowers we desire. Fie, fie, my friend! You don't mean that at all." "No, I don't," said Mrs. Courtright; "but oh, I do get so impatient sometimes at your doing so much, and getting so little in return." "I get more in return than you have any idea of," smiled Englewood; "and I don't do so much either. You draw too largely on your imagination. And then, too, who shall say that Laura is a failure? To be sure, I hear of little to her credit from the West, or to her discredit either for that matter, and I feel that personally I do not care to ever meet her again, for she has hurt me too deeply I doubt if I could ever trust her again. But may it not be that she may yet, perhaps only through suffering and af- fliction, have her eyes opened to her responsibilities, 27 4 i 8 UNCLE CARL and with the light that has been given her, partly through my efforts, yet develop into a very creditable 'gooseberry bush'? Not until the 'finis' has been written to the book can one tell whether or not the life has been a failure." "Right; right, you always are," said Mrs. Court- right. "But this life is only a chapter in existence. 'Finis' can only be written in eternity, and, therefore, never. Tell me, friend, have your views of religion never changed? Now don't look sober again; don't ask from curiosity, but from deep interest. I am not very orthodox myself, but I do feel that the great hereafter holds for us a continued life." "You know," he replied, "how I dislike to discuss religion, save when one is honestly looking for light; and I never argue the question with those of fixed belief. To you, however, I will say that when I have studied hard, and have reached a solution that seems to me to be correct, I do not go back and try to reach a different result, unless something occurs to lead me to believe that there was an error in my work. In that case I will go over the ground again ; but unless I feel that there has been an error, I prefer to devote my time to the solution of other problems, to the prosecution of other work. As a young man I was very earnest in the study of religion, and finally reached conclusions that I have never had reason to believe were incorrect. Indeed, my experience through the succeeding years has only served to en- trench me more strongly in them. I am, so far as my personality in Eternity is concerned, a confirmed agnostic." "But surely you believe in that personality, do you not?" asked his friend. "No; it is all darkness to me," said Carl. "Only UNCLE CARL 4*9 a hope have I. Sometimes strong, sometimes weak, but that hope is not in the least degree a monitor to influence me in this life. I believe first in Truth or Law. That there are, pervading all nature, forces at work, all subject to a universal law, whose un- changeable purpose is the ultimate perfection of all forms of life physical, moral, or spiritual; and that each one of us may contribute our mite, if we will, toward hastening that ultimate condition. I care not at all what other people believe, but I do care mightily how they reach their belief. To me abso- lute sincerity is the first duty of us all. And if we are really sincere; if we search for Truth with earn- estness ; and when we grasp a fragment of it hold to it tenaciously, adding to it little by little as we gain more light, there will be no danger of our going far astray; for one of the first crumbs of Truth that we shall find will be that Love is the most all-pervading force of Nature a universal Law, more potent than the dogmas, and schisms, and arbitrary fiats of all the theologians that have ever lived. I do not concern myself at all about the life hereafter. It is the life here and now that is of moment." "But surely that would be a dangerous propaganda to be given to the world, would it not?" suggested Mrs. Courtright. "While it may be that it serves for you, yet the conscience of the people is, it seems to me, too facile in counseling that what pleases self is right, to make it a safe rule for the masses to live by. By destroying the religion of the church would you not leave license to disport itself to the great injury of the moral life?" "I do not issue it as a propaganda, my dear friend," smiled Englewood; "I do not seek to de- stroy your church. I do not believe in laying aside 420 UNCLE CARL the clothing that protects us from the wintry blasts until the genial warmth of the Southern winds as- sures us that we do not longer need artificial covering to keep us warm. And so, the church accomplishes a great good, and protects the moral life of the people from much of the evil that is in the world. But often, and more often as the years roll on, vig- orous members of the church feel the warm winds of Truth sweeping up; and they step forth from the artificial shield made by man, into a clearer knowl- edge of Law. A law, not of license, but of love, of brotherhood, of divinity as it is in each one of us. Of divinity not given to us by an individual sentient being whom the church calls 'Creator' ; but an innate divinity, born with us, existing with and in us; for we are ourselves but fragments, atoms, of the Great Eternal Universal God-head. As divinities we are immortal; but whether we shall retain hereafter an individual cognizance of that divinity, or be again merged into the universal law, I do not know; nor, I believe, does any one else know." "I confess that I cannot follow you clearly," said Mrs. Courtright. "Your philosophy is too deep for me. But this I do know. That your creed, if it can make other men as clean and upright as you, is equal to any church doctrine the world has ever known." "Thank you," said Englewood. "You are per- haps prejudiced in my case. But I would suggest this. The orthodox church is man-made; the visible evidence of man's struggle for the light of Truth. My philosophy is also the result of that same strug- gle. Whether it is nearer the real truth than the church is, or not, is a matter of opinion. Doubtless it is faulty; but any sincere, earnest struggle for the true light must of necessity make the straggler a bet- UNCLE CARL 421 ter man or woman, because at the very first step he must come face to face with the law of love. And as, if there be a God, love must be His law, I do not think that we need be at all worried as to what our portion shall be in His Kingdom, if we obey that same law in this life no matter what creed we fol- low otherwise." CHAPTER XXXVII The days of a beautiful summer sped on; and as during the year before, Mr. Englewood was a fre- quent and ever-welcome visitor at the Courtright cot- tage. Hattie Braton had arrived in due season, add- ing a wealth of sunshine to a family already rich in the light and warmth that springs from hearts true to the best that life offers faithful friendships; earnest, loving sympathy, and steadfast, conscien- tious pursuit of the pure, the beautiful, and the holy. Miss Braton had seemed in these few months to have sprung at a leap from a quiet, earnest maiden into the glory of fully developed womanhood. Physically, she was not an exceptionally beautiful woman; though with her regular features, graceful figure of medium height, and clear complexion rich with the fresh tint of perfect health, she was good to look at. Add to this a pair of brown eyes that, better than speech, told of a pure, wholesome mind and heart, and we have said all that we need say of a very charming young woman. It was a warm, still evening in August that Carl rested on his oars when still some distance from the shore; and, looking around at the beautiful scene, addressed Miss Braton, who sat at the boat's stern. "What a glorious privilege it is just to be alive at this season of the year. It seems to me one could never tire of such a life." "Yes, it is like a nectar," she responded, "and gives us the renewed strength of soul and body that we all need when duty calls us to the tread-mill again. One only wishes that all of one's friends could come out UNCLE CARL 4*3 of the dingy cities, and enjoy Mother Nature's choice gifts." "That is so," said Carl. "But all that we need in this little nest to complete our circle is Ralph. Do you know whether he will be able to come over? I haven't heard from him in months." "I hardly think so," said Hattie. "He wrote to Arthur that he has plunged vigorously into his work. After his graduation Mr. Coleman gave him a very responsible position for so young a man, and he is determined to prove himself equal to his trust." "Do you know," said Englewood rather hesitat- ingly, "that I had expected you two young people would settle down together. I know how Ralph feels, for he told me last fall; but from his not coming here, and from your manner in speaking of him, I am afraid that you did not encourage his as- pirations, of which I decidedly approve. Tell me, little girl, if a friend so old as I may ask such a confidence, can you not find it in your heart to help him to the best of life?" "If you mean, 'will I marry him'?" replied Hattie coldly, "I must say 'no' emphatically." "And yet," urged Carl, "he is a most lovable young man. Honest, pure, upright, and steadfast. You surely could not make a more worthy choice." "And are you so anxious to get me married off?" said Hattie demurely. "No, no, my dear friend, that cannot be. Ralph is a fine, a splendid fellow, and I love him dearly as a friend and comrade; but I do not care for him, I can never care for him, in any other way." "But are you sure?" persisted Englewood. "May not that friendly affection grow into something stronger and dearer? I wish for the highest happi- 424 UNCLE CARL ness possible for both of you. I would not presume to speak of it otherwise. Can you not " "Mr. Englewood," interrupted Hattie, "did you ever read the 'Courtship of Miles Standish'?" "Why, yes," said Carl, "I have read it, though I am not much of a hand for poetry." "Do you remember, then," Hattie spoke hesitat- ingly was it the crimson glow of the western sky that gave that sudden tint to her face? "what the maiden Priscilla said to John Alden ?" Englewood looked down thoughtfully, striving to recall the forgotten lines; and then, as their sig- nificance flashed upon him, he looked fixedly at the quiet figure that, leaning now over the stern of the boat, was idly moving her hand about in the warm waters. A moment he sat thus; and then, without a word, he grasped the oars and pulled with long, vigorous strokes toward the shore. Startled by the sudden movement, Hattie looked shyly around; but Englewood bent to his work, looking steadily at the bottom of the swiftly moving boat, with compressed lips and a determined yet not unpleasant expression. As they neared the little dock, he looked back of him to get his bearings, and then rowing more slowly said, "My sudden strenuosity may have surprised you, but it just occurred to me that there might possibly be need of certain actions that could not safely take place on the water. Therefore I made haste to land." As they touched the dock, he sprang nimbly upon it, and with the anchor rope in hand turned to assist his companion. As Hattie accepted the proffered hand she said, "I don't think that I understand you, Mr. Englewood; you were not thinking of standing on your head, were you, or anything of that sort?" UNCLE CARL 425 "Well, yes, something of the sort," he replied; "or at least I may try some form of gymnastics. You'll learn soon enough." "Too soon for me per- haps," he added in an undertone, as he turned to fasten the rope to the staple. Hattie had moved a few steps farther out on the dock, when Englewood straightened up, and looking at her with eager eyes that told more than he real- ized, said, "And now, young lady, I have something to say to you. Are you ready?" There was no doubting the source of the color now in the little woman's face as, after one glance at him, she started on a swift walk toward the house, saying as she passed him, "Why, Mr. Englewood, I I didn't mean Oh, what must you think of me !" But Carl walked quickly after her; and taking her hand, placed it on his arm, and holding it closely to his side led her, in spite of her efforts to remove it, toward a rustic seat that, screened by a natural bower of green, stood invitingly near. "I'll soon let you know what I think of you," said he with a whimsical smile. "I haven't preached a sermon to you in a long, long time; but you are in for it in earnest, now." He handed her gently to the seat, and then placing himself beside her, looked searchingly into her face. Hattie, poor girl, sat passively, not knowing what to think. Had she indeed offended this dear friend? Had she been too bold; or was it that he was too blind to realize just what her daring reference meant, and he really had some lecture for her? Perhaps she had misread his eyes, that had so often of late given her hope that this great, good man thought more dearly of her than she deserved. Perhaps he but what was the use of wondering, he would tell in 426 UNCLE CARL his own good time, and she couldn't help herself. She glanced furtively at him as, his eyes now looking out across the water, seemed intent on the evening- star that was already shining in the west. Drawing a long breath, Englewood at last broke the silence. "Miss Braton, I am going to tell you briefly a chapter of my life. A joyous yet a very sad one. Some years ago it seems to me now an eternity I met, and loved with all the passionate strength of youth, a maiden, sweet and pure and holy as ever lived. Her parents were earnest Christian people, her father being the well-beloved pastor of the Pres- byterian Church. To them I revealed my affection; and though I was then, as I am now, a 'back-slider' from their faith, a man without belief in their God, they yet had that trust in me, unworthy as I was and am of such a gift as they made me, that they con- sented to my endeavor to win their only daughter. My suit was successful; and I cannot even now re- call those bright, joyous days without a thrill of emo- tion, as if I had received a holy benediction upon my puny efforts to draw nearer to the perfect ideal of life. And she, sturdy little Christian, true to her faith in God and belief in His Church, joined with me in planning for our future work in the world. Whatever I may have accomplished since then has been largely due to her influence in those days of joy. We were to have been married on New Year's Day. But the Reaper came; and on Christ- mas Day we laid her, sleeping, under the shadow of the mountains she loved so well. Ere she died, she talked lovingly of our plans ; of my future ; of her belief that we should meet over yonder, where she would be waiting to receive me "at the gate." At the last long talk we had, she expressed the wish that UNCLE CARL 42? some time, when the keen edge of my sorrow had been dulled by time, I should marry some pure little woman who would fill the vacant space in my heart. But the years passed on ; and, doing my little best to carry out the plans made sacred to me by her partici- pation, it never seemed to me other than sacrilege to admit another to my heart. Nor did I desire it for a long time. That intense, passionate love of youth that I felt for Irene comes but once to man; and is to me now, and will ever be, a holy, sacred memory. But after the years of work, with age creeping upon me, there came into my life another little girl, re- minding me so much of my lost Irene, that, while not awakening a love so all-absorbing, yet crept into my heart and stood still stands beside my sleeping dear one. The living and the dead; equal, yet with a difference. For the dead the passionate love of youth; for the living the strong, enduring affection of middle age. Little girl, you see how it is, do you not? It is not that you are the second choice, only that you came later into my life. If you can take what I have to offer, if you can feel for a man so much older than you that affection, without which union would be a misery to you, then I ask you, as one whom I believe to be in every way worthy to occupy Irene's place, as one whom I love dearly, and with the whole strength of my manhood, to be my wife." As Carl ceased, his companion looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears. A strange wooing this to bring the sadness and the joy together; each intensified by the contrast with the other. And yet it was just like him. Sunshine always came after rain of his making. As he had told of his early love, the girl felt with and for him; and with sinking heart 428 UNCLE CARL she also felt how lonely her own life must be; for surely his love for Irene could never be replaced by her. And yet the tears of sadness that welled up as he spoke of the dead, remained unshed until with his last words their bitterness was changed by the won- drous alchemy of his affection into tears of joy, that rolled slowly down her flushed cheeks, as she replied : "Oh, Mr. Englewood, I am all unworthy of such affection. Unworthy to take the place of your dear one of the long ago. Yet I do love you as dearly, as strongly as you could wish. Your age makes no dif- ference to me, for it is not your body that I love, so much as it is your grand, noble heart; and that I I just worship!" As Carl's hand now stole around the girl's waist, she hid her face on his shoulder; and they sat thus for a few moments as if to get a firmer grasp upon the great joy that had come to each; and then he tried to raise her face, but she resisted. "Not yet," she murmured; "not yet; I have something more to say first. I have a secret to tell you." And as he ceased his effort at her bidding she suddenly sat upright, and then leaning toward him she nervously played with a button of his coat as she said, "I have a confession to make, dear. Some- thing that you should know ; though I hope, I know that you will understand why I deceived you, and it will make no difference to you. Do you know who my parents were?" "No, my dearest, and I don't care," replied Carl. "I only know that you are pure and worthy, and that is enough for me." "But I must tell you," said Hattie, "for I have deceived you about my name. My real name is not Hattie Braton; at least, that is part of my real UNCLE CARL 4*9 name, but it isn't all of it. When you found me in that wicked place, and asked me what my name was, I felt that I had fallen so low that I wouldn't for the world have any of my old associates know of it; and I didn't know then what a noble friend I had to help me, and how his generous heart was going to make me proud to have known him any where even in such a vile place as that. And so I only told you my baptismal name. Afterward, when I had come East, and all of you dear people had done so much for me, I didn't feel that I cared to take my old name again ; for I was all alone in the world, ex- cept for one distant relative that I learned was a very bad man. And as a girl I had not formed any inti- mate friendships, so I just let it go as it was. Was that very wrong, you dear old stickler for Truth?" "Not very, little girl," said Carl. "I understand your feeling, I think, and don't blame you in the least. So if you have gotten through with your blood-curdling confession, just turn your dear face up this way." "What!" exclaimed Hattie; "don't you even want to know my real name?" "I don't care what your name is," said Carl; "I don't love your name, I love you ; but if I must hear it first, out with it, and hurry up." "My name then," said the girl, as Englewood gathered her into a close embrace, "is Hattie Braton Cramer." A 000 085 335 8