EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 BY 
 
 JIM TULLY 
 
 HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
 HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. 
 
 PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY 
 
 THE QUINN a BODCN COMPANY 
 RAHWAY. N J. 
 
PS 3f 39 
 HW 
 
 1922 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 To all those with whom I have shared hunger and cold, and 
 the loneliness that gnaws and gnaws. To the women, 
 now nameless, who made loud carousal, and silent 
 leave-taking. To the pugilists, who battered 
 my features, and took defeat, or victory, in 
 silence, like Men. To the good people 
 with ideals, that perished at per 
 sonal contact. And to all read 
 ers of life who arrive at a 
 page of wisdom when 
 the book is about to 
 be closed. 
 
 5002^3 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 SAGE 
 
 THE FIRST EPISODE 3 
 
 THE FUNERAL 9 
 
 THE ORPHANAGE 12 
 
 A NEW LIFE 31 
 
 Two FRIENDS 43 
 
 CHANGING FORTUNES 60 
 
 EVENTS 68 
 
 THE LAND OF His FATHERS 89 
 
 THE CHAIN FACTORY 96 
 
 RUTH EMORY 104 
 
 SLIM EDDIE 109 
 
 A COUNTRY DRIVE 116 
 
 LIMA 128 
 
 A ROSE FADES 131 
 
 THE ROAD LEADS ON 133 
 
 MILES AWAY 145 
 
 CIRCUS DAYS 155 
 
 CHICAGO 167 
 
 VIVIAN 170 
 
 A COLD JOURNEY 180 
 
 AN EX-CONVICT TELLS A STORY .... 189 
 
 SNOW BOUND 194 
 
 NEW YORK 200 
 
 EMMETT TESTIFIES . . 205 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE CONDUCTOR 212 
 
 HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 215 
 
 HYPOCRISY REWARDED 224 
 
 TROUBLE 229 
 
 INCIDENTS REMEMBERED 237 
 
 A MAN DIES 243 
 
 EMMETT WANDERS SOUTH 246 
 
 A HOBO CAMP 252 
 
 PRISON AND WORSE 258 
 
 A HOBO FIGHT 266 
 
 THE LURE OF HOME 273 
 
 BATTLE GALORE . . . . . . . . 278 
 
 EMMETT TURNS POET 283 
 
 A SNAG THAT TORE 287 
 
 EMMETT MAKES A Vow 299 
 
 THE DAY OF BATTLE 303 
 
 Two FRIENDS MEET 314 
 
EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Lord, give to men who are old and rougher, 
 The things that little children suffer, 
 And let keep bright and undented, 
 The young years of a little child. 
 
 MASEFIELD. 
 
 THE FIRST EPISODE 
 
 THE child had arrived a month too soon. The doctor had 
 arrived an hour too late. Emmett Lawler was six years 
 old when this episode occurred. There was a commotion 
 in a log cabin home in Ohio. During the first hour of 
 the first of May his another had closed her eyes upon a 
 world from which the fairies of her girlhood had long 
 since vanished. It had been her strength that kept the 
 family ship from sinking in the sea of life. 
 
 Students of genealogy should pause here just a moment. 
 Here was a dead eagle, born for the mountains, whose 
 clipped wings had forced her to walk the mud roads of 
 Ohio. From somewhere out of the long ago she had in 
 herited a beautiful emotional nature. She had but scant 
 education, and though her mind was powerful, it was ever 
 and always a dreaming mind. In the midst of heart 
 breaking realities she lived in a dream world of which 
 John Keats was king. 
 
 3 
 
4 v : { " " " : EMM T LAWLER 
 
 * J * * * * r*, 
 
 She lay now, as a worn-out woman when all the house 
 is still. There was a haunting beauty about her face. 
 Her cheeks, which all the ills of life had not robbed of 
 their color, were now the shade of pink sea shells. Her 
 eyes were partly open, as if she wanted to look once more 
 at her ship-wrecked children. Her hair had been the 
 pride of the countryside. It reached far below her knees ; 
 so long it was. It was now brushed back from her high, 
 white forehead. By the light of the kerosene lamp, the 
 clustering ringlets looked like a mass of dull red rubies. 
 The valiant woman had given her life to usher into the 
 world a little dead baby. 
 
 She had never believed that poor people should bring 
 large families into the world. And now, like many a sol 
 dier, with face upturned to the sky, she had given her life 
 in a battle the idea of which she felt was wrong. 
 
 Her husband, however, felt that God tempers the wind 
 to the shorn lamb. He was quite unmindful of the fact 
 that if the lamb had not been shorn there would have 
 been no need of tempering the wind. But that was all 
 over now. The dreary rain fell steadily on the roof and 
 windows of the cabin. 
 
 Seven vines which had clung to the oak had been broken 
 by its fall. Her husband and six children now gazed in 
 utter desolation at the woman of the great heart who 
 had made the break for freedom. 
 
 When Emmett was christened there was some hesita 
 tion about who should name him. His father, who had 
 never before bothered about names for his children, now 
 insisted that the boy be named after him. His mother 
 
THE FIRST EPISODE 5 
 
 reluctantly consented. But in her heart she called him 
 her dream name. So he bears that name in this biography. 
 
 Mrs. Lawler had always had a passionate attachment 
 for a wandering brother. This man was a direct descend 
 ant of the Vikings who had ravaged the coast of Ireland 
 a thousand years ago. When the craze for drink was not 
 upon him, and when the wanderlust had been temporarily 
 lulled to sleep, he was the most charming of men. He 
 was over six feet tall, and his shoulders were so heavy 
 and broad that they seemed to droop from their own 
 weight. He had read widely and well. He had stolen 
 poetry from every nook and cranny of life. It was said 
 by Irishmen, who were ever keen judges of fighters, that 
 he could tear a bull-dog to pieces. He had once been 
 locked in a saloon with six men. It was to be a battle to 
 a finish. A short time after, great fists crashed through 
 a wooden paneled door. A mighty demon of a man 
 walked out. His clothing hung in shreds about his huge 
 body. The six men lay prostrate upon the floor, tables 
 and the bar had been turned over, and the debris of wreck 
 age was everywhere. His presence had emptied the 
 village street. An iron lamp post stood near him. He 
 vented his rage by bending it to the ground. 
 
 And then Emmett s mother appeared. When he saw 
 her the wild giant became tame as a child. He clasped 
 little Enimett to his hairy, naked breast with one arm, 
 while with the other he held the mother tenderly. To 
 gether they walked to a decrepit buggy, to which an old 
 horse was hitched. The horse turned its head and neighed 
 in sheer gladness at the giant s approach. 
 
6 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 This man disappeared soon after the incident recorded. 
 Emmett stood at his mother s side, while between sobs, 
 she waved at the great adventurer as he walked down the 
 road. He was never seen nor heard of afterward. And 
 now, Emmett Lawler will carry his name through this 
 story. 
 
 Emmett s father had never been a strong character 
 though his heart had been kind. He had always wished 
 to carry the burdens of a world when his shoulders had 
 been unfitted to carry the burdens of a household. In 
 justice to him, however, he had been an Irish wit. Rum- 
 sellers had laughed gaily at his stories so long as his 
 money lasted. But now, the Irish wit was as solemn as 
 a churchyard owl. His long, red mustache had a woeful 
 droop to it. He looked as dreary as a burned-out fire. 
 Like a man before whom chaos had opened, he was 
 stunned and could utter no word. He was a battered hulk 
 of a man, but still, there were those who loved him. The 
 dead woman had been one of these. Perhaps he had been 
 a compromise with her dream of the man who never came. 
 Only the Balzacs and Hardys can read a woman s heart. 
 And they dwell not along country roads in Ohio. 
 
 Relatives had been slow in coming from the bleak, 
 muddy countryside. Grief made all hearts numb, and 
 those who did come were as helpless as the husband and 
 children. Suddenly the strength of the mother seemed to 
 pass to the twelve-year-old daughter. She grasped her 
 father by the arm and exclaimed passionately, "Brace 
 up, Dad, Mother s forever through waiting for the 
 
THE FIRST EPISODE 7 
 
 saloons to close." The father obeyed her command as 
 though he were the twelve-year-old child. 
 
 As Virginia Lawler opened the door to allow the doc 
 tor to pass out, the falling rain beat a weird tattoo upon 
 an old piano box in which a family dog and cat were 
 sound asleep. Emmett cried for the dog, and Virginia 
 carried him out into the peltering rain. 
 
 The old dog awoke from his slumber, and leaned his 
 shaggy form against Emmett. The cat, as is the way of 
 cats, slept soundly, and was not to be disturbed by emo 
 tions which children and dogs show for each other. 
 When Virginia wished to bring Emmett away from the 
 dog, the child cried so loud that he could be heard in the 
 far woods. So dog and child were brought into the 
 wretched room, and stood near each other in pathetic 
 awe by the flickering light of the kerosene lamp. 
 
 The old dog looked across the room and saw his friend 
 lying upon the bed. He approached the bed reverently. 
 He stood near it, and then looked about the room in a 
 mute appeal. He then returned to Emmett. 
 
 A late April wind now began to roar in May. It 
 moaned through the open spaces between the logs, where 
 plaster once had been used to keep out the elements. 
 
 A lithograph picture of King Herod was tacked to the 
 wall. He brandished a gigantic sword above little in 
 fants, who knelt and lay in profusion at his feet. One 
 infant held its arms in the air, as if in a last appeal for 
 mercy. For years afterward Emmett connected Herod 
 with the death of his mother. 
 
8 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Coins were wanted to lay upon the dead woman s eyes. 
 Her husband gave two silver dollars for the purpose. 
 The silver pieces had been loaned to him by his wife s 
 brother, for another purpose. The thoughtless act, which 
 in itself meant nothing, resulted in the brother-in-law 
 not speaking to the husband for twenty-five years. 
 
THE FUNERAL 
 
 THE children did not have clothes considered fit to 
 wear on the last journey they would ever take with their 
 mother. So the lid was clamped over the dead piece 
 of beautiful clay, with its auburn hair lying in simple 
 folds about it. Emmett, always a head-strong child, 
 fought like a little tiger to lie in his mother s arms. But 
 this last caress was denied him. In fact, Emmett was 
 not to know the boon of any woman s arms for many a 
 long, long year to come. 
 
 The Gods of Thunder Mountain may be fit to rule the 
 thunder. Perhaps they know why it is best to make 
 a sensitive child writhe under the agony of bitter loss. 
 
 But that is not in Emmett s story. 
 
 That youngster scratched and beat his way out of his 
 father s arms. He dashed between the legs of the country 
 undertaker. But the coffin was carried to the road with 
 out him. The old dog walked up to Emmett, as if to 
 console him. It remained near him. The elder mourners 
 were quickly on their way. 
 
 Down the winding road which the mighty brother had 
 walked into the unknown, the sister was now to journey 
 also. 
 
 Emmett and the dog ran pell-mell after the hearse. 
 They were followed by the other children. An old 
 
 9 
 
io EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 woman, unable to stop them, lagged slowly behind. At 
 last, they could go no further. Exhausted, they stood 
 in the mud and wept. The dog went on, and appeared 
 at the churchyard, where he watched the earth close over 
 his mistress. 
 
 As the children stood weeping, the funeral cortege 
 faded into the landscape. The aged woman now reached 
 the children and led them back to their empty home. 
 
 Later in the day an uncle told the children that the 
 pastor had said that their mother s life had been like a 
 white rose beautiful and pure. Emmett still thinks of 
 his mother when he sees a white rose. 
 
 Emmett s relatives were mutually agreed that an Or 
 phan s Home was the proper place for orphan children. 
 Among other things they felt that only at an Orphanage 
 could the children be given the proper religious training. 
 
 They deluded themselves in order to conceal selfish 
 reasons, as people have ever deluded themselves from the 
 day they crept from blunt animalism to relentless civiliza 
 tion. Emmett still remembers such phrases as, "Ah, 
 Blissed Mither of God, it s a Hessin in disguise." "Ay, 
 and the childer can now be eddicated." Another phrase 
 Emmett heard often was, "Indade, God knows best." 
 
 So worked up were the relatives over the momentous 
 question that they consulted the village pastor. He told 
 them that a panic was sweeping over the land and the 
 Homes were overcrowded. A compromise was reached, 
 and three children were chosen to represent Poverty at 
 the Orphanage. 
 
 The good pastor had always loved Emmett s mother. 
 
THE FUNERAL n 
 
 He too was a dreamer. The fairies had carried all the 
 dreams from Ireland and had laid them at his feet. He 
 had shared dreams and books with the woman whose life 
 he had likened to a white rose. 
 
 A sale was held at the tumble-down home. Coarse 
 people bought the dead woman s dearest possessions as 
 though they had been stacks of cheese. 
 
 Mrs. Lawler had owned and driven a faithful old 
 horse. The children heard with alarm that old Pokey 
 was to be sold. They, who were not to have a home for 
 many years, tried to keep a home for the horse. A con 
 sultation was held among them. They decided to fight 
 against its sale. 
 
 The horse now stood, with its sad old eyes looking out 
 of a dilapidated barn door upon the children it had known 
 all its life. Had he not taken them to their christenings, 
 to all the neighborhood around ? Had not he and the dog 
 been so long together that their actions were alike ? 
 
 The horse was led to the auction block. A farmer 
 bought him for twenty dollars. The old dog barked, the 
 children cried. The horse looked about the barnyard for 
 the last time, and was then taken slowly away. 
 
 Emmett never forgot old Pokey. Years later he heard 
 that he had died a month after the sale. 
 
 From the proceeds of the sale three cheap cotton suits 
 were bought for these Ambassadors to the Empire of Beg 
 gars. The children, who had not clothes fit to wear to 
 their own mother s funeral, were now dressed differently. 
 Mr. Lawler was a proud man. His children would at 
 least enter their new home clothed in fitting raiment. 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 
 
 JUNE had again donned her garment of green and gold 
 The Civil War soldier who had gone mad in Anderson 
 ville Prison, raving of the green fields of Ohio, must hav< 
 once beheld such a morning as this. The roads were dr] 
 and smooth. Birds of many colors flew along zig-za^ 
 rail fences. An old goose and her many goslings showe< 
 their simple joy in being alive. The cooing of doves coulc 
 be heard at neighboring farms. Their mournful sound 
 echoed over the quiet fields. June was like a dancing 
 girl carrying flowers. It was only in Emmett s soul tha 
 there was discordant music. 
 
 An old surrey stood in the road near the Lawler home 
 Yellow tassels hung from its lop-sided top. Two age< 
 mules were hitched to it. And both of them were soun< 
 asleep. 
 
 Emmett stood in the yard and watched the goose mean 
 der down the road with her young. Virginia and the doj 
 were with him. Staunch old Shep was turning gray 
 He was eight years old when Emmett was born. But hi 
 had been a happy life. A beautiful woman had love< 
 him, likewise a warmhearted girl. He had tramped ove 
 fields and woods with the Irish rover who had wandere< 
 to far places. On winter nights, old Pokey had share* 
 his bed with him. But more than all else, Shep had love* 
 
 12 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 13 
 
 Emmett. He now seemed to feel that tragedy was in 
 the air. And in Emmett s brain a boyish revolt was seeth 
 ing. He clung to Shep, who almost pushed him over in 
 his mute attempt at affection. 
 
 Finally the rebellion broke out into a declaration of 
 principle, "Virgie," he said, "I ain t goin to leave old 
 Shep here." 
 
 The rest of the party came out of the cabin. Their 
 many voices awoke the sleeping mules. Not without 
 a struggle was Emmett torn from Shep and placed in the 
 surrey. The mules jogged slowly along the road while 
 the broken little lad gazed through tears at Virginia and 
 Shep standing in the yard. They seemed to find hauling 
 orphan children to the railroad station a pleasant task. 
 
 Emmett was placated, after a fashion, by all the lies 
 which grown people tell to children. The slow mules were 
 barely in time to meet a train almost as slow. With 
 asthmatic puffs the train pulled into the station. The fat 
 conductor bustled about as if he were completely una 
 ware of the fact that people in reality have no place to go 
 and an eternity in which to arrive. Emmett s last glance 
 beheld the mules, almost asleep again. 
 
 When the train left the station, Mr. Lawler and his 
 three gifts to the nation were aboard it. 
 
 Five miles from the station, Mr. Lawler thoughtfully 
 pointed out to his children the graveyard where their 
 mother lay. 
 
 Emmett sobbed wildly and tore at the horrid red 
 cushions. The people in the third-class coach were very 
 kind. Emmett has often wondered who they were, and\ 
 
14 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 whither they were bound. His head throbbed as though 
 many Lilliputians were beating at his skull with tiny 
 hammers. 
 
 After long hours the roar of the city greeted the trav 
 elers. And after many inquiries Mr. Lawler found his 
 way to the Orphanage with his children. 
 
 The Orphange was built in the form of a great red T. 
 It stood in the center of a tract of land comprising two 
 hundred acres. When Mr. Lawler arrived at the front 
 entrance with his children he delivered the letter he had 
 been given by the pastor. Large black doors were 
 promptly opened and as promptly closed behind the man 
 and his children. Mr. Lawler was called into another 
 room while the children waited outside in the hall. With 
 out so much as a parting word, or the touch of a hand, 
 Mr. Lawler went away and never returned. Some peo 
 ple considered it more humane to break from children 
 suddenly, and Mr. Lawler seemed to be one of these. 
 During the six years that followed the father was never 
 over one hundred and fifty miles from Emmett, but the 
 boy never saw him nor received a line from him in all that 
 time. 
 
 The children were then taken into a room to await the 
 arrival of the Elderly Woman in charge. The minutes 
 dragged slowly by and the exhausted Emmett lay upon 
 a wooden bench until sleep came down to him like a 
 blessed benediction. And as he slept, he dreamed of 
 pleasant things. . . . He was in the kitchen with his 
 mother, who was singing Irish folk songs, as she baked 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 15 
 
 cookies. Emmett held a cookie in his hand. Far away 
 were the sleepy mules, and the fat conductor, and the al 
 most endless ride. Happier days were again with him, 
 and old Shep ... A hand was placed upon his shoulder 
 and he awoke to realities again. 
 
 The Elderly Woman now stood before Emmett. The 
 child who had fought to remain with his dog was now 
 as humble as a beaten thing. Perhaps the Elderly 
 Woman was kind. It is not the intention here to tear her 
 soul to shreds. That soul has found surcease these many 
 years. 
 
 She was an aged woman, and for thirty-five years little 
 boys and girls had appeared before her in just such plights 
 as Emmett s. This much can be truthfully written. She 
 was the product of an age that had never given the ques 
 tion of child psychology one moment s consideration. 
 
 Men and women died their children must be cared for. 
 In a helter-skelter world she completely overlooked the 
 possible man and woman of to-morrow. God ruled 
 everything, in her opinion, and she felt too humble to 
 question His rule. 
 
 An Emmett might fight through everything, and like 
 a wounded tiger, drink at all the polluted wells of life. 
 His formative years might color his entire future outlook, 
 so that he could not see the rose without visualizing the 
 thorn. Such things were not pressing problems to her. 
 For God took care of all that. Her immediate problem 
 was to even get enough decayed food for her five hun 
 dred charges to eat. Her shortcomings were many, but 
 
16 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 even so, the world was better for her long life. She only 
 saw a gleam of the light, but she followed that gleam 
 steadily for nearly seventy years. 
 
 The Elderly Woman scared Emmett, and he shrank 
 from her. But the touch of her hand on his head made 
 him quickly respond. She leaned down, and her face 
 was close to him. 
 
 Heavy wrinkles ran in all directions across her fore 
 head and cheeks. Her nose curved downward, her chin 
 upward. But in justice to her, the eyes had a kind ex 
 pression. Years later, after Emmett had observed eyes 
 in thousands of human heads, he still felt that hers had 
 been different. They seemed to him the eyes of an eagle 
 that had been given a tame expression from hopelessly 
 gazing through the bars of a cage. 
 
 She placed her hand upon his cheek and held his head 
 pressed close against her. For that one moment she was 
 the Eternal Woman to Emmett. Even though, afterward, 
 the boy was lost in the crowd of hundreds of other chil 
 dren for her, he had never forgotten her careless moment 
 of kindness. 
 
 The Elderly Woman talked quietly to the boys for a 
 few moments. Their names were taken, and then an at 
 tendant took them to the clothes room. 
 
 As they walked through the hallway they met other 
 women who walked softly and swiftly. A heavy quiet 
 pervaded the building, while a peculiar odor permeated it. 
 
 The clothing room was in charge of a woman with a 
 nature as cold as a fish fresh from the sea. Her voice 
 was rasping and harsh. During six years Emmett does 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 17 
 
 not remember to have seen her smile. She was ponder 
 ously heavy, and at least six feet tall. Her face was dis 
 figured by large warts. Her eyes were small, and 
 gleamed deep in her head like fiery black coals. Her 
 head continually shook as though she suffered from palsy. 
 She had what the children used to consider an annoying 
 habit of striking a vicious blow without warning when 
 she discovered torn clothing. 
 
 The boys were required to sew torn places in their 
 own apparel. Many of them became as adept with the 
 needle as the girls. Their sewing even passed the inspec 
 tion of the giantess in charge. But they were always 
 punished for having torn clothing, or losing buttons. 
 
 Emmett discarded his cotton suit and donned the clothes 
 of the Orphanage. He was then taken to the playground. 
 
 When he arrived there, many small boys crowded about 
 him. They had passed through the same experience but 
 they did not know the language of sympathy. One 
 chubby little lad pulled his long auburn curls, and said, 
 "What s yore name?" 
 
 "My name s Emmett Lawler," replied Emmett. 
 
 "Well, anyhow, de ll cut all your hair to-morrow." 
 
 The Chubby Boy then took Emmett to see his beetle 
 nest. 
 
 The boys whiled away the long summer hours in strange 
 ways. Some had captured beetles which they watched 
 working in the loose earth. Some captured flies and 
 placed them in square houses modeled out of clay. The 
 flies entered through a trap door. Glass was imbedded 
 on each side for windows. Not that the flies might see 
 
18 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 out, but that the boys might see in. Emmett was thrilled 
 to see the beetles working industriously in the earth. 
 The boys became fond of them in a way that would have 
 won the regard of Fabre. 
 
 A bell rang. The children ran to fall in line. The line 
 was formed according to size. The Chubby Lad was 
 about Emmett s stature, so he found his right place in 
 the line without any trouble. As the smallest boys led 
 the march, Emmett and his new- found comrade walked 
 at the head of the army of youthful outcasts to the wash 
 room. 
 
 Brass faucets shone above the zinc covered trough 
 which ran entirely around this room. A damp, sickening 
 odor was in evidence. From the wash-room the boys 
 were taken to the refectory. 
 
 This room was fully one hundred and twenty feet long. 
 Three oil-cloth covered tables ran the length of it. There 
 \vere no chairs or benches, so the children ate their meals 
 standing up. The food was scarce and nauseating. Ex 
 actly the same portion was given each youth, regardless of 
 size or age. There was no second portion. The children 
 struggled with the meals, and ate them, after a fashion. 
 Poverty had been their lot, but nauseating food is not 
 always connected with poverty. 
 
 A system of trading was in vogue in the Orphanage. 
 It had been born during the first year of its existence, 
 over seventy years before. One woman had been over 
 fifty years at the Home. She told Emmett many tales 
 about orphan boys who later became successful men. The 
 idea of success with the women always seemed to be the 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 19 
 
 accumulation of money. The aged woman did not tell 
 Emmett of the thousands of boys who, when they left the 
 Orphanage, had been crushed by the environment that 
 awaited them outside. 
 
 The system of trading was elastic, and changed accord 
 ing to the laws of supply and demand. An orange was 
 always worth two apples, unless at Christmas time, when 
 each boy was given two oranges. At all seasons of the 
 year the core of an apple had a trading value. 
 
 As the boys ate the white coating of the orange peels, 
 they also had a trading value, and the peels of bananas 
 were also traded. 
 
 A slice of bread between meals was worth two agate 
 marbles. If a five-cent piece ever strayed into the hands 
 of a boy it brought him all good things, and attracted 
 others to him, as wealth does the wide world over. 
 
 All money .was supposed to be turned over to the 
 women in charge. But the boys cheated the women 
 dreadfully and seldom turned it in. Of course they 
 seldom had any to turn in. Emmett saw a silver dollar 
 once in six years, and when he left the Home he did not 
 know the denominations of money between a penny and 
 a dollar. This knowledge would have been superfluous, 
 as he was not called upon to handle money for some years. 
 
 Emmett could lay no claim to boyish beauty. But tie 
 had inherited his mother s moods, her passion for dreams 
 and books, her keen sensibilities, and her love for music. 
 
 Even as a child there were two personalities struggling ^ 
 within him. One was the fighting* strain which belonged 
 to his uncle, and the other was the dreaming strain which 
 
20 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 belonged to his mother. These two natures were to fight 
 many a battle in the future. Emmett s heart and brain 
 were the battlefields upon which they were to leave the 
 scars of conflict. 
 
 A chaplain was stationed at the Orphanage. He func 
 tioned at services every morning of the year. The service 
 was held before breakfast, and, as usual, each child was 
 seated in chapel according to size. 
 
 Figures of Jesus, Mary and the saints were everywhere 
 in evidence. The ceiling of the chapel was- painted to rep 
 resent the starry heavens. Figures of angels flew among 
 the stars. During six years Emmett never tired of 
 chapel worship, not from any deep sense of religious 
 feeling, for he was essentially a pagan. But the paintings 
 and statuary, and the o.dor of incense gave a sensuous 
 tinge to his thoughts, and made the chapel hour an oasis 
 in the drab desert of detail in the home. 
 
 The children who sang in the choir were instructed by a 
 woman who had studied music. So the chapel vibrated 
 to the clear tones of children s voices and musicians con 
 ceded that it was the best in the city. Music had been 
 the passion of their teacher s life, and with it she beauti 
 fied an hour each day in the lives of these orphan children. 
 
 During the winter evenings the women often told 
 stories as a bribery for good behavior. The starved 
 minds of the children would anticipate the stories for 
 days ahead. One of the women was a combination of Poe 
 and Swift. Her stories were grotesque and horrible. 
 They caused wild dreams and wretched nights. 
 
 In one story a pagan had been struck by lightning be- 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 21 
 
 cause he had defied God. With these women God was 
 not only up in his heaven, but he scattered vengeance like 
 rain. 
 
 A man of all work once became offended at a boy for 
 a trivial offense. He came into the refectory during the 
 lunch hour and grasped the boy by the neck and hurled 
 him to the floor. He pinned him there and beat him un 
 mercifully. When he had vented his rage the boy s eyes 
 were completely closed. His face was swollen to twice its 
 normal size, and was black and blue and hideous. 
 
 The other boys were in a panic, and they crowded about 
 the old woman in charge in an effort to have her stop the 
 strong man. Two boys tried to grasp the man s arms as 
 he flailed the helpless boy, and were themselves thrown 
 to the floor. 
 
 The beaten boy groped his way about for several days, 
 an object of pity. 
 
 Upon another occasion one of the boys was whipped in 
 an entirely different manner. It was Saturday afternoon 
 arid the boys were prepared for their weekly bath, with a 
 towel tied about their loins. 
 
 The boy had been struck across the $alms of the hands 
 with a raw-hide whip. He had returned to his seat hold 
 ing his burning hands beneath his armpits. A tale-bearer 
 seated next to him heard. him call the woman a name 
 under his breath. When she had been told what he had 
 said she became fury incarnate. She came quickly 
 toward the boy with the whip poised in air". In the boy s 
 effort to escape the lash of the whip the towel dropped 
 from his body. Benches were toppled over as the pain- 
 
22 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 maddened child dashed about the room. Never was an 
 African slave whipped more terribly. The whip wound 
 its vicious length about his body and made a noise each 
 time like the hiss of a snake. Black and blue marks en 
 circled his white body. He moaned piteously. The re 
 ligious woman s vengeance was not yet appeased. He 
 was made to kneel in chapel until noon the next day. 
 There was a seething rebellion among the more deter 
 mined boys over this incident. They prevailed upon the 
 whipped boy to show his body to the chaplain. To un 
 derstand courage one should know the danger involved. 
 Luther never displayed more courage in a larger way than 
 did the boy who faced the chaplain. The pastor was a 
 kind, gentle man. He possibly felt that he was but one 
 man in an Empire of Women. He soothed the boy s 
 broken spirit that was all. 
 
 A system of spying prevailed in the Orphanage. The 
 word of the spy, or snitch, was always taken. 
 
 One woman devised a new plan of punishing offenders 
 in order to save herself the trouble of whipping boys at 
 all hours ; she brought efficiency to her aid. 
 
 When she heard of an offense she wrote down the name 
 of the offender. She would stand before the boys of her 
 department each night before bed-time and hold the list 
 of the proscribed in her hand. In her other hand she 
 held a raw-hide whip. The boys never knew whether or 
 not their names were to be called. If the name was not 
 called the suspense and worry for fear that it would be 
 v >. was a punishment in itself. The raw-hide whip across 
 the hands was the punishment. The lads used every 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 23 
 
 method possible to harden the hands. Some rubbed them 
 into the earth, others upon rusty pipes. But always, the 
 whip stung like the pricking of a thousand small needles, 
 or like the effect produced by the slow grasping of a nettle 
 very much magnified. This form of Spanish Inqui 
 sition was practised by the woman during all of Emmett s 
 years in her charge. It was subtly demoralizing to the 
 peace of mind and heart of the child during the whole day. 
 Throughout the day youngsters would stop in their play 
 and wonder if their names would be on the "list" that 
 night. Emmett learned to hate the scvund of his own 
 name, Lawler, and to this day, if his name is suddenly 
 called, it makes him feel uneasy. Spite and hate might 
 have actuated the tale-bearer for boys of that type were 
 always- sneaks but nevertheless the whipping always 
 . came as the sun went down. 
 
 Another woman became the originator of another form 
 of punishment. If an offense had been committed and 
 the name of the offender were not known she would 
 promptly call all the boys in her department and make 
 them sit in silence with folded arms until some boy con 
 fessed. This system did not help in the least, as the guilty 
 boy would have more cause for sitting quiet than those 
 who were innocent. To counteract it the stronger boys 
 devised a method of confessing in rotation. If the guilty 
 boy was found out later the others meted out swift 
 punishment. 
 
 The system did not work on one historic occasion. A 
 snowball crashed against a woman teacher s ear, and so 
 hard it was that it adhered together even after it had 
 
24 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 struck her. All the boys were called to the room but 
 their courage left them at the thought of the horror of the 
 punishment which might be measured out to the one who 
 had hit a defenseless woman in broad daylight. The boy 
 who threw that snowball will carry the secret with him 
 to the other world. His companions took the punishment 
 like stoics, as they seemed to realize that there are some 
 things beyond confession. 
 
 Boys were chosen every three months to do the menial 
 work of the Home. Work in the dining room, for obvi 
 ous reasons, was always sought after. Political rings 
 were formed in order to obtain the work preferred, Once 
 a boy secured a place he was asked to take care of other 
 boys who had helped him secure it. 
 
 The girls who waited upon the women and the pastor 
 in charge were forced to walk through the boys dining 
 room with the victuals. The boys used to stop them upon 
 their return to the kitchen and take from them any food 
 that had been left. 
 
 The bread was kept in a large box in the corner of the 
 dining room. Small raiding parties were often formed 
 to steal it. If the culprits were caught it meant severe 
 punishment, but the practice of stealing bread was never 
 completely broken. Once Emmett was caught red-handed 
 with the bread in his possession, and two days in bed on a 
 diet of bread and water was the punishment given him. 
 
 After the beds had been made in the early morning the 
 dormitory became as silent as a city of the dead. Now 
 and then an indistinct footfall could be heard in the hall, 
 it could be heard plainly at first and then the sound would 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 25 
 
 die away, as an echo dies in the woods. The voices of 
 children at play would float up to the lonesome boy, and at 
 danger of being kept in bed another day, Emmett would 
 sneak to the window and watch them, far below. 
 
 Bedbugs were a constant menace in the Home and boys 
 were detailed to hunt for them each Saturday. When 
 caught, the insects were thrown into a vessel which con 
 tained water. An aged, near-sighted woman sat near the 
 vessel in order to keep track of the number of bugs 
 caught by each one. After a boy caught a certain num 
 ber he was allowed his freedom. The woman s duty was 
 to see that he did not obtain his freedom by fraud. 
 
 A future inventor hit upon a scheme to beat this sys 
 tem. The wooden beds were painted a dull red, which 
 had never properly dried. Like many things in life, the 
 idea was so simple the boys wondered why they had 
 not thought o f it before. Elusive bugs were no longer 
 hunted with pins through every crack of the beds and wall. 
 The boys manufactured their own hugs. Each boy became 
 an embryo Rodin. The undried paint was scraped from 
 the lower portion of the bed and deftly shaped into the 
 form of a bug. At certain intervals each boy would ad 
 vance slowly toward the sitting woman. She would look 
 closely at the imaginary bug and credit the boy with an 
 other capture. Alas, the paint became scarce, while the 
 bugs multiplied. One of the boys, not having seen a bug 
 for so long, lost his perspective, and shaped one badly. 
 The trick was discovered. But it was a matter for the 
 Elderly Woman in charge. The boys spent three days in 
 the beds which had furnished the raw material for their 
 
26 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 masterpieces. A guard was placed over them to see that 
 they did not talk, and they lay like wounded soldiers 
 while the hours crept slowly by. 
 
 Bullies arose and fell with alarming regularity in the 
 Home. Danny Regan was the greatest of these. He was 
 a natural fighter, with courage galore. So great was his 
 power that even snitchers were afraid of him. All those 
 who had met him in open combat had been whipped badly. 
 
 Regan had two brothers in the Home, and Emmett had 
 two. The younger brothers on each side were constantly 
 fighting. Tom Lawler and Danny Regan, the two eldest, 
 had never fought. 
 
 A particularly vicious fight between Emmett and the 
 youngest Regan had reached up to the Bully s throne. 
 The code had always been that two boys should stand up 
 and fight, with no interference, until one or the other gave 
 up. Some of the fights were resumed for a week at a 
 time, whenever the opportunity presented itself. Emmett 
 was holding his own upon this occasion when the elder 
 Regan interfered. When Tom Lawler heard of the in 
 terference he immediately arranged another fight between 
 the boys. They met in a secluded spot far from the eyes 
 of the women in charge. Boys reached the spot by de 
 vious routes. 
 
 Each boy had friends, and the crowd was divided into 
 factions. As the two lads prepared for the fight, all 
 eyes were turned toward the Bully. 
 
 Tom Lawler stepped forward, and looking directly 
 at him said that he would fight any one who interfered. 
 The bully sneered, but said nothing. The boys were soon 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 27 
 
 hammering away at each other not without the slightest 
 knowledge of the art of self-defense. Emmett was fight 
 ing near the bully when he was struck a blow from behind. 
 Tom stepped between the little fighters, hurled them aside 
 and sprang at the bully. The boys looked on in startled 
 surprise. It was as though a private had attacked Na 
 poleon in the presence of the Old Guard. 
 
 The bully, taken by surprise, fought viciously, but 
 Tom s fists found their mark with thudding, well-aimed 
 force. After retreating many yards the bully fell in a 
 heap before the quiet lad who seemed unconscious of the 
 fact that he was whipping the Ruler of an Invisible Em 
 pire. Without a word the victor led Emmett away from 
 the scene of the combat. 
 
 When Emmett had been about five years at the Orphan 
 age, the Elderly Woman started on a long journey. The 
 children were assembled in chapel in order to pray for 
 the peace of her soul. Her heart beat slower and slower 
 and the boys prayed faster and faster. Indeed, they 
 prayed like parrots anxious to leave the cage. Prayers 
 did not avail. The White Horse of death was anxious to 
 be gone. The boys had been about two hours in chapel 
 when the news of her death finally came. There was no 
 weeping, as there had been no love or understanding on 
 either side. But Emmett s eyes blurred slightly. He saw 
 an old woman place a wrinkled hand upon the auburn 
 curls of a little boy. The crumb of bread which she had 
 cast upon the water had come back to her when her heart 
 had ceased to beat. 
 
 Emmett became an adept at reading aloud and would 
 
28 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 often read to the women while they knitted or sewed, or 
 peeled potatoes in a circle about him. When he came to a 
 word which was hard to pronounce, he would hesitate 
 until one of them pronounced it for him. He learned 
 from the women how to modulate his voice and to enunci 
 ate words correctly. 
 
 The six years had ended at last, and the Day of Days 
 had arrived for Emmett. A farmer came to the Orphan 
 age and asked for a boy to "raise." 
 
 Farmers, as a rule, do not wish to raise orphan boys. 
 They want one to slave from daylight till dark, and take 
 the place of hired men. But Emmett was oblivious of 
 all this. In his mind he pictured the happy existence on 
 the farm, which only people living in comfortable homes 
 in the city enjoy. 
 
 Emmett was told that he was to receive a horse and 
 buggy when he became twenty-one years of age. That 
 was only nine years in the future, and all the boys envied 
 him. 
 
 Emmett had been given a new suit to wear on Sundays. 
 His heart swelled with pride over it. He thought how 
 nice he would look on the journey from the Orphanage. 
 As it was Sunday, he was wearing the suit. But he 
 reckoned without the giantess in charge of the clothing 
 room. She sent for him and when he arrived he was 
 told to discard his new suit and put on one more in keep 
 ing with the backwoods, whither he was bound. 
 
 There were touching farewells. For Emmett had spent 
 every hour of every day during six long years with many 
 
THE ORPHANAGE 29 
 
 of the orphans. It had long seemed as though they had 
 always been together and would never separate. 
 
 It was rumored about that unless homes were found 
 speedily for some of the boys, they were to be sent to a 
 Reform School. It seerned to be considered a crime to 
 have remained at the Orphanage too long. Reform 
 Schools were not pleasant places, and the fear of it 
 weighed heavily upon them. 
 
 When all was ready the farmer and his semi-adopted 
 son started the half-mile journey to the big gate through 
 which all must pass to reach the outside world. With 
 his heart as light as a feather Emmett faced the unknown 
 years. 
 
 Emmett s comrades waved at him until weeping willows 
 near a spring hid them from view. 
 
 As they neared the big gate they met one of the younger 
 teachers who was returning to the Orphanage from the 
 city. She had been in charge of Emmett s department for 
 two months during the absence of the regular teacher. 
 During that time she had procured books by Dickens and 
 Goldsmith, which the boy had eagerly read. She was at 
 the very dawn of young womanhood and she seemed like 
 an elder sister to Emmett. 
 
 When she learned that he was going away she told 
 him much about the dangers of a world, of which she 
 knew little more than he did. Emmett was facing no 
 immediate danger on the farm where he was bound, unless 
 a cow should step on him, but she was unaware of that. 
 Oblivious of the waiting farmer the two talked as if they 
 were a long separated brother and sister. And then as 
 
30 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 they parted, the young woman impulsively caressed the 
 unloved boy. At the touch of her soft white hands the 
 long years of agony were forgotten. In an unconscious 
 moment she raised all womanhood to a pinnacle from 
 which a thousand lesser women were unable to drag it, 
 during all the weary years, which for Emmett stretched 
 their dismal length ahead. He clung to her for a moment 
 and cried. 
 
 The farmer took him by the arm and led him away. As 
 they neared the big gate Emmett turned and waved at the 
 young woman before the trees near the spring hid her 
 from view. 
 
 Thus two book lovers bade farewell forever. 
 
A NEW LIFE 
 
 WITH many varied impressions Emmett left the large 
 city. He vaguely recalled the fat conductor of six years 
 before. 
 
 It was June again, and the hills and dales of southern 
 Ohio resembled Corot landscapes, past which the train 
 rolled. Emmett was completely fascinated. The stolid 
 farmer beside him was unaware that he had chosen a 
 boy who did not always live in the same world with him. 
 
 It was late at night when the train reached the county 
 seat, forty miles north of Emmett s birthplace. The boy 
 was hungry, but the farmer postponed eating until the 
 next morning. 
 
 He went directly to a livery stable where his team and 
 surrey awaited him. The team hitched, man and boy 
 made for the open country. During the entire journey the 
 farmer had scarcely spoken, and when he did speak, it 
 was more like the grunt of an animal. 
 
 In about two hours, and after a drive of twelve miles, 
 they turned into a barnyard. The outline of a log barn 
 could be faintly seen in the moonlight. The team in the 
 barn, they crossed the yard, through a gate which was 
 held in its place by a chain fastened to a stake in the 
 ground. The chain ran through a heavy, round tile, which 
 made it sag in the middle, like a hammock. 
 
32 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 The house was quiet, and save for the ticking of a 
 clock, no sound was heard. The farmer lit a kerosene 
 lamp and held it aloft, while Emmett followed him up 
 rude stairs, to the attic. He showed Emmett an old- 
 fashioned wooden bed upon which was a feather mat 
 tress. The weary youngster forgot his prayers, and slept 
 the dreamless sleep of oblivion. 
 
 It was the end of his twelfth birthday, and it had been 
 full of thrills for him. He had gone through all the con 
 flicting emotions at leaving the Home, and had made a 
 journey by train and surrey of nearly one hundred and 
 sixty miles. 
 
 The farmer was surprised to find the boy awake early 
 the next morning. He did not know that Emmett had 
 been wakened every morning at five o clock for six years. 
 Noise was heard below, and the odor of frying meat 
 floated up the stairs. 
 
 The farmer, Soaroff by name, had a very large body 
 and a very small head. His forehead slanted back until 
 it crowded his brain. There was an expression about his 
 pig-like eyes which suggested madness. His mother had 
 named him Solomon, an unconscious tribute paid by ig 
 norance to wisdom. It is one of the ways in which the 
 world insults its great men. 
 
 Solomon was one of seventeen living children, all 
 tainted with madness. One of his brothers later worried 
 much about another world, although he knew not the 
 first thing about the one he was in. That he was an 
 ornament to neither never occurred to him, but he finally 
 made his exit from this world and entered the other one 
 
A NEW LIFE 33 
 
 in a sensational manner. Another brother ran away with 
 his niece. 
 
 Mrs. Soaroff was a short woman, with hair combed 
 straight back from the vaguest outline of a forehead. Her 
 face was as sharp as a hatchet, and her eyes gave her a 
 malicious expression. Her form was as round as the rain 
 barrel at the corner of the house. She was more loqua 
 cious than her husband, but, if anything, she thought even 
 less. 
 
 A two-year-old boy, the exact replica of his father, 
 howled in the kitchen. Ivy, a girl of Emmett s age, 
 greeted her "new brother" in friendly fashion. She led 
 Emmett to the wood-pile, where each gathered an armful 
 of wood for the kitchen stove. The wood was in a corner 
 of the barnyard, above which pigeons whirled. Their 
 home was in a box near the barn roof. Emmett watched 
 them with intense boyish admiration. 
 
 After breakfast Ivy took Emmett into the parlor. 
 When she raised the curtains the light revealed horrid 
 chromos of living and dead Soaroff s hanging from the 
 walls. The sensitive boy was shocked by this rude dis 
 play of primitive art. Mad eyes looked out of flat chromo 
 faces, for in spite of all else the village artist had caught 
 the gleam of madness. 
 
 Four books lay on the table in the room. "Pilgrim s 
 Progress/ "Earth, Sea and Sky," "Robinson Crusoe," 
 and the Bible. 
 
 Ivy told Emmett the history of the chromo immortals. 
 Ivy s parents were first cousins, and the pictures of her 
 grandparents were strangely alike. The mental disorder 
 
34 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of the family, or their lack of mind, seemed to have 
 skipped Ivy, but from the union of her father and mother 
 she had inherited a weak constitution which burst into 
 sudden bloom and carried her away at eighteen. 
 
 Emmett worked hard during the summer, but try as 
 he would he was unable to please this Solomon of the 
 roadside. The boy did not grasp the simplest rudiments 
 of farming, but in a strange, brutal way, fate wove about 
 the rustic hearts some strands of affection for him. 
 
 The summer was eventually blotted out by the frost of 
 autumn. Emmett was known over the countryside as 
 "the orphan kid the Soaroffs has took to raise. " He 
 husked corn late into the fall. His cracked and bleeding 
 hands left marks of blood upon the husks. 
 
 Winter crept over the land and touched it with a drab 
 outline of gloom. Solomon had not remembered to buy 
 any underwear for his semi-adopted son. 
 
 Neither Soaroff nor his wife could read nor write. 
 They learned the pleasing fact that Emmett could read 
 well aloud. So the lad from the Home spent hours read 
 ing to the family. He waded through the Slough of 
 Despond with that half insane thinker, Bunyan. The 
 Soaroffs talked of Christian and Mr. Facing Both Ways 
 as if they were neighboring farmers. They loved Bun 
 yan as they loved money. 
 
 Neighbors were invited, and all seated themselves in 
 the parlor, while Emmett read the Bible aloud. It was a 
 picture for an artist who has not yet arrived in the world. 
 The auburn-haired boy was seated in the center of awe- 
 inspired rustics in a chromo art gallery. 
 
A NEW LIFE 35 
 
 The rustics speculated much about the vague meanings 
 in the book, and each narrow intellect in turn took a nar 
 rower view. Emmett would often close the book and 
 listen to them argue pro and con. They were so serious 
 about it that only their parrot intellects kept them from 
 living according to its teachings. 
 
 By a system of their own they had the end of the world 
 all figured out. Some of them felt certain that it would 
 end with the end of the century, now almost upon them. 
 With the calm of their own cattle they awaited the blow 
 ing of Gabriel s horn. Emmett had been taught that the 
 sea would give up its dead on the last day. He used to 
 picture in his mind the mighty gathering of men and 
 women dead for thousands and thousands of years. They 
 were all to assemble before the great Judge and he was to 
 sort out the good from the bad. The former were to be on 
 the right hand of the Judge. Try as he would he could 
 not picture the Judge being crowded on his right. 
 
 Emmett thought the last day might make quite a dis 
 turbance, but somehow he felt glad that something might 
 come to break the monotony of his existence. And still 
 he read on. 
 
 They never tired of hearing him read the Revelation 
 of St. John. In the midst of one passage in Revelation 
 Soaroff stopped Emmett, while he speculated with his 
 neighbors over a question. Emmett had read: 
 
 And the number of the army of horsemen were two hundred 
 thousand thousand: and I heard the number of them. 
 
 Vainly they tried to conjecture how much space so many 
 
36 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 horses would cover. It was plain to be seen that their 
 imaginations were staggered. Then Emmett read the next 
 paragraph : 
 
 And thus I saw the horses in a vision, and them that sat on 
 them having breastplates of fire, and of jacinth, and brimstone: 
 and the heads of the horses were as heads of lions; and out of 
 their mouths issued fire and smoke and brimstone. 
 
 For their power is in their mouth, and in their tails : for their 
 tails were like unto serpents, and had heads, and with them they 
 do hurt 
 
 The reading was ended for the night. Two hundred 
 thousand thousand horses with heads like lions, and tails 
 like serpents had proven food for discussion for the re 
 mainder of the neighbors stay. John was indeed strong 
 meat for people who spent their leisure poring over 
 mail order catalogues. But after hearing the Revelation 
 they were doubly convinced of the end of the world. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe was a relief to the boy. Friday and 
 his master helped him to do the evening chores. 
 
 Revival meetings were held at the country churches 
 each winter. Soaroff held the record as the country 
 backslider. He got a new brand of religion each winter. 
 He was impartial as to church or creed. The most fluent 
 preacher gathered him into the fold. Had Mahomet and 
 Luther met him on a country road, he would have taken 
 all their fanaticism, and none of their goodness. He had 
 a voice that was a blending of bass and discord. It was 
 loud enough to call the cattle home, no matter how far 
 they wandered. As Emmett had relieved Solomon of all 
 
 i 
 
A NEW LIFE 37 
 
 the chores, he had much more time to commune with his 
 soul. 
 
 Solomon had a sense of rustic drama. Long practice 
 at being converted had taught him the technic of these 
 revivals. Just when everybody thought that Solomon 
 was so deep in the mire of sin that his own team could 
 not pull him out a miracle would happen. 
 
 But for some reason it was taking the spirit much 
 longer to move him this winter. He lingered at the 
 Mourner s Bench each night for two weeks. Members 
 of the congregation shook their heads slowly and despair 
 ingly. The rustics speculated as to whether or not Solo 
 mon would ever receive the manifold blessings of religion 
 again. 
 
 He had outstayed all the mourners at the bench. As 
 they were converted, their shouts of glory moved him not. 
 The minister and members shouted and prayed, but still 
 the giant farmer knelt, with head bowed down like 
 Millet s rustic listening to the Angelus. 
 
 The preacher prayed aloud, "Lord, Lord, descend and 
 give peace to this weary brother of mankind." He 
 mopped his brow with a large red kerchief, and Emmett 
 noticed a weary expression on his face. The preacher 
 had converted the giant farmer before, and it was a blow 
 to his professional pride when Solomon had reverted 
 to the ways of sin. Suddenly Solomon started swaying 
 up and down, his head rising high and then touching the 
 bench, and on seeing this the congregation was filled 
 with new hopes. He moaned, louder and louder, like a 
 
38 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 soul in deadly pain. All crowded about and looked down 
 at the swaying brother. The preacher made the same 
 movement as Solomon and then others started to sway, 
 and a mighty song rilled the small church. The singers 
 lingered with each word until they were forced to let 
 it go , 
 
 W-he-n the r-o-1-1 i-s c-a-1-le-d up yond-der, 
 Whe--n t-h-e r-o-11 is ca-1-l-ed up yo-n-der , 
 
 Then like the snap of a whip 
 
 When the roll is called up yonder I ll be there 
 
 Suddenly, like the blessed breeze which the Ancient 
 Mariner felt at last, a mock religion flooded the farmer s 
 soul. He arose from the bench with a terrible shout. He 
 roared his thanks to the God above. He clasped the sis 
 ters in his arms it was always the sisters. Emmett had 
 never witnessed the stolid intellect show such life. He 
 started to sing with a voice of thunder. It might have 
 disturbed the sleeping cattle on nearby farms. He swung 
 his arms wildly, and unfortunately, one hand touched the 
 hot stove-pipe. The demonstration was over for the night. 
 
 The members filed out of the church, as men leave a 
 steel mill after a hard day s work. Patiently and wearily 
 they said, "Good-night, Brother" "Good-night, Sister." 
 And the preacher said to all, as he fastened his red muffler 
 around his throat, "We should all pray to God to keep 
 Brother Solomon safely in the fold." "Amen," said all 
 in unison, while Solomon looked about him and held his 
 burned hand. 
 
A NEW LIFE 39 
 
 Religion settled down upon the Soaroff household for 
 the winter. Solomon bought Emmett no underwear, how 
 ever. 
 
 Mrs. Soaroff felt no need of being converted each win 
 ter. She merely started going to church when revival 
 meetings commenced, and kept it up until spring. 
 
 Emmett s near foster parents now walked, drove, and 
 rode horses to all the churches for miles around. 
 
 When the mud was so deep that a horse could not pull 
 a buggy, the dauntless religionists either walked or rode 
 horses. During such times Emmett stayed at home with 
 Ivy and the boy. 
 
 One night as Ivy opened the door suddenly the light 
 from the lamp shone directly in the face of a man. She 
 screamed and dashed back through the house. The 
 screams of the girl awoke the sleeping boy and he 
 screamed also. Emmett rushed to the door and shut it, 
 and ran for a shot gun, which he could not have used 
 in any case. He walked to the summer kitchen, the door 
 of which was only fastened by a small piece of wood. 
 No footsteps could be heard, but the boy heard the barn 
 yard gate shut softly, and then the chain creaked. 
 
 Never did hours drag so slowly since the beginning of 
 mortal time. Ivy cried and, girl-like, wished to be near 
 some one stronger than herself. Her brother was soon 
 quieted, and slept soundly, his regular breathing and 
 the regular ticking of the clock being the only sounds in 
 the room. The curtains were drawn, and Emmett was 
 afraid to look out into the black night. 
 
 Emmett sat still, with the old shot gun near him, 
 
40 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 while Ivy sat on his lap, with both arms about his neck. 
 The danger had made the girl cling to Emmett, and the 
 boy could feel her heart pounding against him. Finally, 
 she, too, slept, as a child sleeps, fretfully. Her head 
 rested upon his shoulder, and if the boy stirred ever so 
 slightly, the girl would hold him tighter. 
 
 The Soaroffs returned near midnight, and the fright 
 ened boy was telling his tale before Solomon could put 
 out the light in the lantern he carried. 
 
 The imprint of gum boots in the mud path near the 
 house was all that could be seen. 
 
 It is doubtful if Ivy ever really recovered from the 
 shock she received that night. 
 
 The long winter passed. March came and went, like a 
 lion with muddy feet. Then spring unfolded her green 
 garment over the earth. The snow in the fence corners 
 gradually melted away and so did Solomon s religion. 
 
 SoarofT had two accomplishments. He was a keen 
 horses-trader, and he was rapid at figures. He could 
 "figger things up in his head quicker n any man in the 
 keonty," was the unanimous verdict. But he was much 
 prouder of his ability to cheat in a horse trade. 
 
 He rode home one night by the light of the moon on 
 a powerful roan horse. He was so pleased that he almost 
 t.poke to Emmett as he entered the house. He went into 
 details to his wife about his latest trade. He chuckled as 
 he thought of it. He laughed in a satisfied manner and 
 his yellow, snagged teeth showed as he made ready for 
 bed. Soaroff always undressed in the Art Gallery of the 
 
A NEW LIFE 41 
 
 house, and he walked up stairs a Man with the Hoe as 
 God made him. 
 
 Columbus discovering America was not a bit more sur 
 prised than Solomon the next morning. To his chagrin, 
 he discovered that the horse was "moon eyed" and un 
 able to see in daylight. The poor horse was as blind to 
 visual objects in daylight, as Solomon was to intellectual 
 objects, day or night. 
 
 The news soon spread, and Solomon was forced to 
 drive some distance to trade his horse. He drove away 
 one evening as the moon was rising, and late that night 
 he returned with two yellow mules. The mules were 
 large and wise. They would lay back their ears like 
 rabbits when Soaroff drew near but they liked Emmett. 
 
 One morning boy and master decided to ride the mules 
 a few miles distant where Solomon was placing a tile ditch 
 in the earth. 
 
 Emmett sat upon Jerry and stroked his ears. Solomon 
 climbed upon Jasper in the manner of a tired jockey. 
 Mrs. Soaroff handed Solomon a tin dinner bucket. Some 
 thing rattled inside of it. Jasper pricked up his ears and 
 seemed to hesitate in order to give Soaroff a fair chance. 
 Suddenly the clattering noise was heard again and Jasper 
 went up in the air, and all four feet hit the ground within 
 twelve inches of each other. Never did bucking broncho 
 outdo Jasper on that morning. Jerry looked at Jasper 
 with a shocked expression on his patient face, while the 
 rider of Jerry laughed away down deep. 
 
 Soaroff tried to hold to the bucket. It fell to the 
 
42 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 ground with the noise of an exploding shell. This was 
 more than Jasper could stand, and he jumped higher and 
 higher the closer he approached the woodpile. Solomon 
 screamed "Whoa! Whoa!!!" and his hand loosened, 
 and he dropped with a thud on the woodpile. As luck 
 would have it, he dropped on a sharp stick, which did 
 more than tear his overalls. Jasper walked over to 
 Jerry, and placed his head near him, for all the world 
 as though he were telling his mate a secret. 
 
 The crippled intellectual limped to the house and 
 yelled as he limped "Put those damn mules in the barn." 
 
 Emmett gave the mules extra grain in their boxes, and 
 petted them fondly. He had a vacation that day. 
 
TWO FRIENDS 
 
 APRIL, May and June. During the first month Emmett 
 was in the field picking chunks from dynamited stumps 
 so early in the morning that when the recess bell rang at 
 the country school he thought it was the dinner bell. 
 
 It became too warm to wear his felt boots, and he had 
 no shoes, so he shocked wheat in his bare feet. The 
 stubble scratched his ankles till they bled. 
 
 During all that long summer the boy worked from 
 early morning until late at night. Not one thing ap 
 peared to break the wretched monotony of the dull rou 
 tine of labor. 
 
 Luckily, for the lad, when the second winter drew 
 near he met an old Faith Healer, who became his friend. 
 
 The revival meetings had scarcely started before 
 SoarofF was converted again. He was even more frantic 
 with zeal than he was the winter before. His lusty voice 
 shook the rafters of the frame churches, where he sang. 
 
 The churches were always located at cross roads, and 
 when the meetings were in full sway, horses and vehicles 
 of every description stood about them. 
 
 Young farmers appeared, wearing ill-fitting store 
 clothes, rubber collars, and detachable cuffs. Invariably, 
 they came with their "girl." They would bring their lap- 
 robes, and sometimes their buggy whips into the church 
 
 43 
 
44 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 with them. Whips and robes had been stolen upon oc 
 casion, and it appeared the better part of wisdom to watch 
 over worldly possessions even at a church. 
 
 During the second winter a heavy snow came and lin 
 gered for many weeks upon the ground. It soon packed 
 upon the roads, and became as hard and smooth as asphalt 
 pavement. The merry jingle of sleigh bells echoed on 
 every road. Soaroff had only an antiquated sleigh stored 
 away in the rear of the hay-loft. He had no sleigh bells, 
 but that worried the resourceful farmer not at all. A 
 cow-bell told his neighbors of his approach. 
 
 Emmett met a school girl friend of Ivy s on a never- 
 to-be-forgotten ride. She was giving a sled party, and 
 when she stopped at Ivy s house, she insisted with Solo 
 mon that Emmett should be allowed to go also. 
 
 Effie Ramsay was the daughter of a Scotch-Irish 
 farmer whose fine house and barn were landmarks in the 
 vicinity. 
 
 Effie s mother had a taste for dressing her which 
 amounted to a fine talent. She looked nicer in a blue 
 checked gingham apron than some of the other girls did 
 in more ornate dresses. 
 
 But Effie had qualities of her own. Looking back over 
 the years, Emmett still holds her as his ideal of country 
 girlhood beauty. Her eyes literally shone with merriment, 
 as though pretty pictures were always before them. Her 
 cheeks were the color of ripe peaches. Stray brown hair 
 fell over a forehead perfect in symmetry and beauty. 
 
 Everybody liked Effie even Soaroff and his wife. Her 
 father was County Commissioner, and the overlord of 
 
TWO FRIENDS 45 
 
 the township. Hence, the farmers felt honored when 
 Effie called. 
 
 The stars glistened white upon a white earth. Effie 
 sat beside Emmett and actually pulled his coat collar up 
 about his neck. Emmett had no mittens, and she placed 
 part of her shawl over his hands. Emmett was slightly 
 delirious over so much kindness. 
 
 The children started to sing as the sled went merrily 
 along they sang a catchy melody , 
 
 Over the river and through the woods, 
 Oh, how the wild wind blows , 
 It chills the ears and bites the nose 
 As over the ground it goes it goes. 
 
 The stars look down on the old, old town, 
 But the country s nicer all aroun 
 Te-rup-te rup-te-rup-te-rup , 
 Te-rup, te-rup-te day. 
 
 EffiVs voice sounded clear and sweet as she huddled 
 close to Emmett and sang with girlish glee. Her breath 
 was as sweet as the wind after a June rain. 
 
 Effie came to Soaroff s frequently after this night. 
 
 She vied with the Faith Healer in bringing joy into the 
 orphan boy s life. 
 
 Once, when she was alone with Emmett in the Soaroff 
 lane, where she had accompanied him to help drive the 
 cattle to the barnyard, Emmett laid bare his repressed 
 boyhood to her. 
 
 The cows wandered slowly toward the water trough 
 while the boy and girl leaned upon the rail fence and 
 looked at the patch of woods upon the adjoining farm. 
 
46 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Smoke from a slowly burning straw pile in the field 
 blurred the sun. 
 
 "Papa likes to talk to you, Emmett, why don t you 
 never come over to our house?" The boy blurted out: 
 
 "Gosh, Effie! Old Sol never lets me go no place. I 
 can t even go swimmin in Blue Creek when the other kids 
 go." 
 
 "Do you ever wish you had a mama ?" asked Effie, com 
 pletely changing the subject. 
 
 "Yes," replied the boy, "when I m lonesome I think 
 about her, and wish I could see her." 
 
 "Why don t you run away ?" queried Effie. 
 
 "Where d I go? Nobody wants orphan kids anyhow. 
 
 "You know, Effie," he continued, "when it was twenty 
 below that time, old Sol never got me no mittens, nor 
 underwear either. My legs was raw with cold. I work 
 like a dog, and he gets Ivy everything, I don t blame 
 her she s all right." 
 
 Just then, Ivy came running down the road. 
 
 "Just wait," said Effie, "I ll talk to my daddy," as Ivy 
 joined them. 
 
 The following Sunday the Faith Healer called at the 
 Soaroff home. Emmett was alone, and was busily en 
 gaged looking at the wonders of "Earth, Sea, and Sky." 
 
 It was a volume which some stray book agent had 
 succeeded in selling the Soaroffs. 
 
 It was profuse with pictures of far-off places, of a 
 comet dashing through space, of the sun and moon, Jupiter 
 and Mars, of giant fishes, and sea and earth animals. 
 Emmett could hardly lift the book, it was so heavy, so he 
 
TWO FRIENDS 47 
 
 often lay upon the floor with it spread out before his 
 eyes. 
 
 A knock was heard at the door, and as Emmett opened 
 it, the Faith Healer smiled at him cheerily, and said, 
 
 "Hello, lad, all alone, eh! I thought you would be. 
 I saw the Soaroffs drive away." 
 
 He walked into the Art Gallery and seated himself 
 upon a cheap upholstered chair. He then looked down 
 at the book and said, "I m glad you read, lad, keep it up. 
 It s the best habit on earth. A great man said that he 
 wouldn t exchange his habit of reading for all the treas 
 ures in India. His name was Gibbon." 
 
 The Faith Healer looked at the pictures of the mad 
 Soaroffs, and turned his eyes away. 
 
 The Faith Healer s real name was Eric Col fax, but 
 very few people ever heard his first name, nor his last 
 name either. He was known over the county as the Faith 
 Healer. 
 
 He was an immense man, with a closely cropped black- 
 and-gray beard. He had kind gray eyes, almost hidden 
 by bushy eyebrows. His face told no tale about his age. 
 He might have been fifty or seventy. He gave the im 
 pression of great silent strength. In winter or summer 
 he wore a blue flannel shirt, and it was always open at 
 the throat. 
 
 He did not work as hard as his neighbors, and he lived 
 much to himself. Men driving by his log house late at 
 night would often see a light burning. He was a constant 
 reader. 
 
 He used natural methods in healing, far ahead of his 
 
48 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 time, but his patients thought he healed by faith. He set 
 bones with amazing and accurate skill. 
 
 His charges were modest, and people drove for many 
 miles to consult him. He made no calls, unless it was a 
 case of life or death. Little children loved him, vicious 
 dogs became gentle under his touch, and crying babies 
 were soothed by him. There was an element of mystery 
 about him, which, combined with his strange power of 
 healing, made him respected and loved by his rural 
 neighbors. 
 
 This man had touched life on many sides. He had 
 been a sailor, and had sailed to far places. He had hun 
 gered in cities, and the gnawing winds of winter had 
 found him homeless on their streets. 
 
 When his sun had passed its meridian he had denied 
 himself everything but a meager existence, while he toiled 
 like a galley slave. As a result he owned five acres anc 
 a log house on a country road. 
 
 If there had ever been a woman in his life, she was 
 buried in the land of forgotten things. 
 
 One of the country doctors, who indulged now and 
 then in the bottle, had been heard to say, while tipsy, thai 
 the Healer knew medicine backward, and that he fell 
 certain he had studied at a college somewhere. But the 
 Faith Healer lived his own life, at peace with man and 
 nature. 
 
 His five acres produced more than enough for his 
 simple needs. There was a calm within his soul which 
 Napoleon might well have envied. His life was a peaceful 
 lake in the moonlight. He used to say to Emmett that he 
 
TWO FRIENDS 49 
 
 would be obliged to sleep in the corn crib, if he did not 
 quit sending for books. 
 
 He was interested in everything under the sun, but pos 
 sibly more than all else was he interested in the vagaries 
 of the human mind. He found the boy a responsive lis 
 tener, and once, when the lad thrilled at an interesting 
 tale from his lips, the Healer said, 
 
 "My lad, you must have been born old. Tell me about 
 your father and mother." 
 
 "Well," said the boy, "Daddy was a ditch-digger, with 
 a long red mustache. I remember him some. The ends 
 of his mustache almost touched his coat. He used to sit 
 and pull the ends of it until they were pointed like the 
 end of a carrot. He never licked me at all, nor he wasn t 
 mean to me. But I ve never heard from him since mother 
 died." The boy paused as the Faith Healer sat looking 
 intently at him with kindly, serious. eyes. 
 
 "And about your mother, lad," he went on. 
 
 "My Mother !" said the Dreamer Woman s child, "I re 
 member a lot about her. She was so different from Mrs. 
 Soaroff, or any of these women around here. She had 
 real long red hair, and sometimes she used to let it hang 
 down in awful long braids. I used to hold them and 
 drive her around the house, just like she used to drive old 
 Pokey. Old Pokey was our horse, you know," said the 
 boy. 
 
 "No, I didn t know that," replied the Healer, "but was 
 your mother pretty ?" 
 
 "My oldest brother at the Home used to say how 
 pretty she was, and my sister used to tell her all the time 
 
50 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 I 
 
 how pretty she looked. Sister was twelve when Mother 
 
 died. We were only together a month after that. 
 Mother had hazel-brown eyes, and she used to read a lot, 
 just like you." 
 
 "Did she ever sing to you ?" asked the kind man. 
 
 "A lot," answered the boy, "she had a violin that Uncle 
 Emmett gave her, and she used to play and sing while 
 sister would dance." The boy walked close to the Healer 
 and placed a little muscular arm about his neck, and 
 sobbed quietly, 
 
 "I wish she hadn t died." 
 
 "There, there, lad don t cry you ll be a big man some 
 day, and your mother will watch you from some far-off 
 place." A pause. 
 
 "But it will not be like it was, though," then the aston 
 ishing words came like a challenge, "You know I ll never 
 see Mother again, she s dead and I want her like she 
 was, anyhow." Before the Healer replied, the boy re 
 sumed, "I heard Soaroff say people s hair keeps right 
 on growing after they re dead. Mother s coffin must be 
 full of hair by this time." 
 
 The Healer ignored the boy s remark about his mother s 
 hair, and started a new subject. 
 
 "Lad, did they not teach you that you had an immortal 
 soul that would never die?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the boy, "I studied all about it for six 
 years." 
 
 "And did they teach you about men in history, also?" 
 
 "Yes, they used to say at the Home that Martin Luther 
 was a mean man, and that he died and went to hell. I 
 
TWO FRIENDS 51 
 
 even heard some of the boys say that he hung himself to 
 a bedpost." 
 
 "Well," said the Healer, "Luther was brave, and had 
 nerve, and it redeems him for me, though he was as crazy 
 about religion as Soarorf. He did not like the common 
 people any more than he liked a lot of cattle. He thought 
 they were made to serve God and Kings. Many fol 
 lowers of Christ are like that, but he was different. The 
 day will come when science will place all fanatical teach 
 ings on a fire and burn them. The ashes will loosen the 
 soil of the earth, then real freedom will grow, like an 
 immense tree, and men s eyes will be rested from the glare 
 of the unknowable, and we ll make the most of life while 
 we are here. For we will always be like little children 
 stumbling in the dark, as an old Persian said, eight hun 
 dred years ago." 
 
 From such chats a great friendship grew between man 
 and boy. 
 
 Soaroff and his wife used to sneer and say that the 
 Healer was an infidel, for one of the preachers had told 
 them so. But the lad would go to the Healer s house every 
 chance he got, and spend hours with him and his books. 
 
 The Healer was in a happy mood this Sunday morning. 
 Looking up at the clock, he said, "Come, lad. The old 
 sorrel mare is outside, and there s room in the buckboard 
 for one more. I m going to spend the day with Ramsay, 
 and I promised Effie that I would bring you if I had to 
 carry you away." 
 
 Emmett thrilled at the words. He had a hat which 
 had once been black, but which was now faded till it 
 
52 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 was the color of his hair. He placed it on his mass of 
 curls, then the Healer lifted the book from the floor and 
 placed it on the table, while the boy ran out to untie the 
 mare who stood dozing near a post at the gate. 
 
 "Don t know why I tie her," said the Healer; "force 
 of habit, I guess." 
 
 By constant urging the old mare could be made to trot. 
 Then, as if thinking better of being so rash at her age, 
 she would slacken her pJace, and if nothing were said to 
 her, she would stop dead still, and begin a doze. 
 
 The Healer would slap the lines over her broad back, 
 and say, "On with you, Lazybones." She would trot on 
 for a few hundred feet, and stop again at the first oppor 
 tunity. In this manner the man and horse had traveled 
 over the roads for many years. 
 
 The sky was clear, save for some tiny white clouds 
 scattered about, like lost sheep in a blue pasture. A 
 breeze played over the fields of grain, and made them 
 undulate like the waves of a small ocean. So real it 
 seemed that Emmett tried to fancy a little white ship 
 upon it. 
 
 Sarah, the mare, had stopped for a dream. Emmett 
 nudged the Healer and made an up and down motion with 
 his hand, to imitate the waving fields. The Healer looked 
 at them, and said, 
 
 "Beautiful, eh, lad ! I ve seen the wind play over fields 
 like that in Argentine. One wave after another, mile 
 after mile." 
 
 When they reached the Ramsay home one of the hired 
 men unhitched Sarah, who turned toward the water 
 
TWO FRIENDS 53 
 
 trough, for Sarah was no stranger at the Ramsay home. 
 Mr. Ramsay, his wife, and Effie greeted them, and to 
 gether they went into the house. 
 
 It was a large brick house, with an iron fence about 
 it, and a steel windmill at the rear. A porch extended 
 clear across the front, and three large hard maple trees 
 formed a triangle in the front yard. If all of Mr. Ram 
 say s land had been in one spot, there would have been a 
 stretch of two miles on every side of it. For he owned 
 two sections, twelve hundred and eighty acres. The brick 
 house stood at one corner of the sections of land. 
 
 The house contained a big living room, in one corner of 
 which was a highly polished piano. Books and maga 
 zines were in evidence, and there was also a large book 
 which contained the biographies of most anybody in the 
 county who would pay ten dollars for having theirs in 
 serted, and ten dollars for the published book. To read 
 the sketches one would imagine that many prominent peo 
 ple lived in the county. Mr. Ramsay s picture was in 
 the first part of the book, and the crafty man got a book 
 free and also the biography. The agent wanted some 
 one to "start the ball rollin in the county," so he picked 
 the prominent Mr. Ramsay. 
 
 Effie played and sang at the piano, and ended with 
 the favorite hymn of President McKinley, "Lead, Kindly 
 Light." The Healer enjoyed music, and he would 
 often stop for an hour while Effie played and sang for 
 him. 
 
 Effie had learned the art of entertaining from a mother 
 who lived to make people happy. Mrs. Ramsay was 
 
54 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of Iliaf- type of woman well known in Oliin, who fell al- 
 most offended, if a guest did not eat heartily. 
 
 A hiied i-iil, Ihc daughter of ;i neitdihor, and likewise 
 tlir. social e<|iia1 of her inislrcss, in a district I hat; know 
 
 no caste, waited upon the table. Mrs. Ramsay insisted 
 that i he j irl si I down and eat, but she replied that she 
 would wait until all were through. 
 
 I 1 mind t was a continual source of interest to Effic, and 
 she had talked lo her father re^ardim; him. 
 
 Some of the people called the I lealer "Hoc" through 
 long familiarity and rude courtesy. When the children 
 were out of hearing Ramsay said to htm, 
 
 "It s this way, Doc, Soaroff has nine brothers, ami 
 about fifty-nine men cousins, all voting in this comity, 
 and I ve got to play safe. Tracy may beat me for Com 
 missioner this fall if T ain t darn careful. I ll advance 
 twenty-five for Emmett s clothes, and you keep him at 
 your house. Is that a go?" 
 
 "It s mighty fine of \<>n, Ramsay. The lad will be 
 pleased with new clothes." 
 
 "I never once thought ahont the boy," said Ramsay, 
 "till I 1 (Tie got after me about him. Has Soaroff got any 
 Itl ings on him?" 
 
 "None at all." said (lie 1 lealer. "I mm the way l m- 
 inelf talK ., he jn-.l went to the Home and picked him out. 
 Thoii:;hl lie looked husky. I jmcss. If the lad hadn t s-one 
 with him they d have pmhahly sent him to a Kefoim 
 School. It s a hell of a world where kid:; arc allowed to 
 j;row up like stray cats. No wondei they :.eralch and 
 Jute when they r.cl older. I don t hlame them a damn 
 
TWO FRIENDS 55 
 
 bit." The 1 loalor was mad, ami his jaw was firm beneath 
 his hlack-and-gray whiskers. 
 
 "Well, well," said the well-to-do Ramsay, who liked 
 a game of cards now and then, "they surely stacked the 
 
 cauls on Kmmctt. Hut he s sine to conic through that 
 kiml always do." 
 
 "\Yroni; a^ain. Ramsay." said the Healer, "one out of 
 a hundred comes through, maybe, but you don t read of 
 the other ninety nine. 1 ran across this clipping the other 
 day, it s by a fellow by the name of James Lane Allen. 
 1 thought of the boy at the time and saved it I ll read 
 it, 
 
 "But we must not forget that an early life of hardship, while 
 it iu.iv In -iiii: out wlut is Ivst in a man, so often wastes up his 
 
 ou-u-.u-s .Mul bm us his ambitions to ashes in the fierce fight 
 against oiUls loo rjcal ; so that powers which may have earned 
 him far, carry bun only a little way, or leave him stranded, ex- 
 lunsted whcte ho beg.ui." 
 
 Hie two men made no comment after the reading, but 
 each looked out of the window, as if studying over a 
 traction of the vast problem men call lite 
 
 "Where s the boy s people?" asked Ramsay. 
 
 "(her in . \nclai.e founty. but that helps none. Not 
 a soul writes to the boy." The Healer arose and walked 
 across the room, with head bowed down; suddenly he 
 tinned and faced Ramsay, and said. 
 
 "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, the Ameri 
 can IVcumcm says. Tell me. Ramsay," he almost 
 shouted, as he clenched together his big hands, whose 
 
 touch was so sine that they could set the tiniest misplaced 
 
56 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 bone, "how that paper or the laws of America help 
 Emmett find any of those things. A humorist must have 
 written the words about pursuing happiness! that s all 
 any one can do is to pursue it. When you catch up with 
 it you lose it. But Emmett can t even pursue it." The 
 Healer walked about again, while Ramsay was silent. 
 
 "I ll tell you," resumed the Healer, "the day will come 
 when the nation will care more for its children. National 
 homes will be in every state, and the Nation will be the 
 mother of orphan children, as it should be." 
 
 It was a new view-point for Ramsay, and he was like 
 wise dumbfounded at the vehemence of his friend, who 
 was now thoroughly aroused and went on, 
 
 "If the salvation of the race is not in the hands of 
 boys like Emmett, then where the devil is it? That boy 
 is a thoroughbred, as his mother was before him. The 
 brains of the race go to the son through the mother. Look 
 at Lincoln, Napoleon, Alexander and God only knows 
 how many others. It s the same tale through the years. 
 Now why didn t your just Baptist God take the lad s 
 father?" 
 
 "Not so fast, Doc, not so fast. I ain t been to church 
 since some devil stole my lap-robe, and EfBe had to sit 
 on her mother s knees to keep em warm." Mrs. Ramsay 
 appeared at this moment. 
 
 "We were just speaking about the goodness of God," 
 said the Healer, ironically. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she returned, "His goodness is wonderful." 
 
 "Let s go and see where the children are, Doc," said 
 Ramsay. The two men walked out to the road and saw 
 
TWO FRIENDS 57 
 
 the children coming toward the house. They walked to 
 meet them, and together they went to the house. 
 
 When night had hidden the summer sun, Sarah was 
 hitched to the buckboard and the visitors climbed in after 
 bidding farewell to the Ramsay family. 
 
 On the way home the Healer told Emmett that any 
 time he ran away from Soaroff he could have a home at 
 his house. 
 
 "I ll be there one of these days," said Emmett. 
 
 In spite of boyish fears of SoarofT, Emmett decided to 
 run away at the first opportunity. Then wheat shocking 
 time arrived. 
 
 Soaroff and Emmett were shocking wheat one day when 
 the former saw a neighbor s chicken running in the field. 
 The farmer caught it, jerked its head off, and threw the 
 quivering body across the fence. 
 
 He had once attempted to cut this neighbor with a corn 
 knife, for which he was prosecuted. At this moment 
 another chicken flew over the low fence into the field. 
 Soaroff ordered Emmett to run it down and kill it. The 
 lad flatly refused. Solomon rushed toward him and 
 slapped the lad hard enough to knock him down. He 
 fell near a pitchfork, which stood upright, its prongs 
 imbedded in the earth. The infuriated boy arose and 
 grasped it, and jabbed desperately at the hulking brute, 
 who could do nothing but retreat before its menacing 
 prongs. 
 
 Ivy came into the field and calmed Emmett, while 
 Soaroff went to the house where he fumed at such base 
 ingratitude. 
 
58 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Emmett, with the blood of his uncle now thoroughly 
 aroused, walked to the house with the pitchfork, while Ivy 
 followed. 
 
 Soaroff stood at the corner of the summer kitchen, 
 talking to his wife, whose rain-barrel shape was now much 
 heavier, for she was with child. 
 
 "I d show the brat who s master, I would, Sol. The 
 red-headed up-start beggar, after all we ve done for 
 him," yelled Mrs. Soaroff. 
 
 Emmett walked through the gate, which slammed shut 
 after him and Ivy. 
 
 "I ain t your chicken killer, Sol Soaroff. Ed Place is 
 good to me and I don t kill his chickens either. You lay 
 another hand on me, and if -I don t kill you, the Faith 
 Healer will. He told me to tell him if you ever hit me 
 again." 
 
 Insane eyes looked at insane eyes, while the lad walked 
 into the house and up to his bed, where the reaction from 
 the emotional strain ended in a flood of tears. 
 
 He heard steps coming up the stairs, and for a brief 
 moment, fear clutched at the nephew of Emmett Des 
 mond. It was gone in a flash: "He can t do no more 
 than kill me," he thought. A horse-shoe hung near his 
 bed, which he had placed there for "Good Luck" months 
 before. He grasped it quickly and stood up. Solomon 
 was treacherous, a fact which Emmett knew well. Had 
 he not concealed the corn cutter until he was within strik 
 ing distance of Ed Place? The stairway creaked under 
 his two hundred pounds. As his head appeared above the 
 floor of the attic the boy held the horseshoe, ready to 
 
TWO FRIENDS 59 
 
 throw it. "Come any nearer, Sol, and I blaze it at you." 
 Ivy climbed up the stairs and passed her father. Soaroff 
 then made peace, while Emmett still held the horse 
 shoe. 
 
 Stolid and brutal though he was, Soaroff was attached 
 to Emmett after a miserable fashion. It was Mrs. Soaroff 
 who was the meaner of the two. 
 
CHANGING FORTUNES 
 
 THE next morning the Soaroffs went to help a neighbor 
 whitewash the interior of his home. Emmett was told 
 to remain and pull milk-weeds in the cornfield. Ivy and 
 the boy were to be sent to the neighbors on the back of 
 an old horse later in the morning. 
 
 As the lad bade Ivy good-by her intuition made her 
 ask, 
 
 What s the matter, Emmett?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing," he answered, as he held her close. He 
 kissed herand then walked with her arm in arm to where 
 the horse stood waiting. 
 
 The heavy horse walked slowly down the road with 
 the two children. Emmett watched it until it turned at 
 the crossing. He returned to the house, and wrapped his 
 extra shirt and few belongings in a newspaper. He had 
 a large cigar box which contained clippings of poems from 
 papers. He placed box and bundle under his arm and 
 went to the kitchen, where the meowing of the cat at 
 tracted his attention. As he entered, it rubbed against 
 his bare leg, and purred. He carried it into the summer 
 kitchen and poured milk for it into a dish upon the floor. 
 He returned to the parlor. 
 
 As he stood in the room he was momentarily stabbed 
 
 60 
 
CHANGING FORTUNES 61 
 
 with a sense of loneliness. The ancient, beflowered, 
 cracked-face clock ticked the seconds dolefully. 
 
 Near him lay the books which he had pondered over 
 many times. He could not know that the reading of De 
 foe, Bunyan, and the Bible had permeated his soul with 
 a love for good English, of which, not even degradation, 
 despair, the jail, and the prize ring would ever rob 
 him. 
 
 Neither had the wandering book agent known that one 
 of his copies of Earth, Sea and Sky would impress a boy 
 for the rest of his life. The world was richer for Emmett 
 because of the fact that an agent had persuaded two peo 
 ple who could not read or write to buy a book. 
 
 One night, after Emmett had read aloud about the stars 
 whirling through vast oceans of space even Soaroff 
 had walked out to the front yard and looked up at them. 
 But Emmett was not thinking of these things. 
 
 He stood still in the middle of the room until another 
 look at the chromos gave him courage to leave it. He 
 shut the door forever on his makeshift home. He broke 
 the cords which were woven out of such shoddy material. 
 It is true that Ivy had woven a cord of silk, which was a 
 trifle hard to break. But the one strand of silk was not 
 enough to hold him. Placing his red hat on his red curls, 
 and taking his box and bundle with him, he walked out 
 of the Soaroif yard forever. 
 
 A short distance down the road he looked back at the 
 pigeons flying in excited numbers above the barn. A 
 chicken hawk made spiral dives high above them. 
 
 Then a slight mist crept into the valiant little wayfarer s 
 
62 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 eyes, and he trudged onward in the smooth track the pass 
 ing wheels had made. 
 
 Mid-summer in Ohio is like wine which thrills the 
 senses. The roads stretch across the state as straight as 
 the lines of a checkerboard. Immense sunflowers turn 
 their vivid yellow faces toward the sun, and grow in pro 
 fusion by the roadside, like poplar trees along roads in 
 southern France. 
 
 Streams dash through forests as luxuriant with vege 
 tation as an island in the Amazon river. There is a lure 
 about the state which holds her children forever. Perhaps 
 it is only an accident that many of her sons become na 
 tional figures. That is hard to explain. But it is not 
 hard to explain why even her most stupid children have 
 read much in the Book of Nature. 
 
 The Faith Healer s home stood back from the road 
 about a hundred feet. Hollyhocks grew in the front 
 yard, while gladioli flourished near the hewed log house. 
 The logs which comprised the house had been hewed as 
 smooth as a board. Not even a mark of the adz had been 
 left upon their surface. The plaster between the logs was 
 also smooth. 
 
 A neighbor farmed the Healer s five acres for a share 
 of the produce raised. The Healer divided his time 
 among his books, his garden, and his art of healing. 
 
 It was said that no man in the county had ever owed 
 him a dollar that he had not paid. He never made a 
 specified charge, but invariably asked, "What s it been 
 worth to you?" 
 
 Once a poor woman had sent him five hens, after he 
 
CHANGING FORTUNES 63 
 
 had helped her daughter who had suffered with a dis 
 located spine. He sent the hens back with a large pet 
 rooster of his own, telling her that every time the rooster 
 crowed it was to remind her that she possessed that rarest 
 of human virtues gratitude. 
 
 The story spread over the countryside and many peo 
 ple saw the proud rooster strutting before the widow s 
 home. He lived until age made his soldier step less firm, 
 and his eyes became so bleared they failed to notice the 
 prettiest young hen that cackled near him. 
 
 The Healer was working in his garden when Emmett 
 drew near. "Why, hello, lad!" he exclaimed, as Emmett 
 slipped up close to him. He looked at the box and 
 bundles under Emmett s arm, and said, "Made your get 
 away, eh ! Now what ll I do if Solomon comes over here 
 with a corn cutter?" 
 
 The boy clutched the Healer s giant forearm and looked 
 at it admiringly. Then he looked up into his tanned 
 face and said, "You know you don t have to be afraid." 
 
 "I ll tell you what we ll do, lad, we ll invite Sol to 
 come to dinner and send Sarah after him, and before she 
 gets him here he ll be an old, old man, and you can lick 
 him all alone." He placed his arm about the boy and 
 walked to the house with him. 
 
 Emmett immediately relaxed. He was now as free as 
 the woodpeckers in the woods nearby. But still, a worry 
 came, for fear that Soaroff would make him return. Im 
 pulsively he said to the Healer, "You ll not let him take 
 me back, will you?" The Healer was startled at the 
 vibrant emotion with which the question was asked. The 
 
64 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 boy stood, his red hat barely resting on his tangled head 
 of red curls, like a sensitive prisoner awaiting the decision 
 of his judge. 
 
 Two years of Soaroff would have been enough to break 
 the heart of a lion. The old Healer knew his kind. His 
 seer-like eyes read them as though they were simple 
 problems on the blackboard of the district school. He 
 saw the blue veins swell in the boy s white forehead, and 
 the tears fall in his sad eyes. 
 
 He gathered the orphan in his arms, and the young 
 sailor and world-roving fighter of other days spoke in 
 words of tense passion. 
 
 "Listen, lad, Soaroff and his nine brothers and John L. 
 Sullivan and Jim Corbett can t take you from here till 
 you want to go." 
 
 "Gosh," sobbed the boy, as he threw his arms about the 
 Healer, "I m so glad." 
 
 "But it s dinner time, lad," said the Healer, looking up 
 at the sun, for he could tell the time by the position of the 
 sun in the sky. He handed Emmett a pail. "Run to the 
 garden and dig enough spuds for two, and bring anything 
 you see there, and I ll put the coffee on the fire." 
 
 Before long the Healer had a tempting vegetable din 
 ner upon the table. "Now, lad," he said, "I ll get you 
 meat if you want it. I don t eat it for several reasons, 
 here at the house anyhow. I relish chicken, but haven t 
 the heart to kill my own, and I could no more kill a calf or 
 lamb than I could kiss Soaroff. Then I have noticed that 
 many strong animals never eat meat." 
 
CHANGING FORTUNES 65 
 
 "I don t care about it," said Emmett. "What s good 
 enough for you suits me." 
 
 "Of course," went on the Healer as he ate a potato with 
 the jacket on, "I m no fanatic on eating, but I do think 
 that many a giant digs his grave with his teeth. Remem 
 ber Dr. Slivel, over in Van Wert. Well, he was a fine 
 man, but he tried to cure people and he didn t even un 
 derstand his own body. He became fat, because his ap 
 petite ruled his brain, and he died at fifty. That is too 
 young an age to die and leave a country like Ohio." 
 
 A voice was heard outside, calling, "Hey, Doc." 
 
 "That s Ramsay," said the Healer. 
 
 "Just drivin by," said Ramsay ; "no time to stop long ; 
 got to make Van Wert yet to-day." His sleek driving 
 horse stood impatient by the roadside. 
 + "Hello, Emmett," exclaimed the County Commissioner. 
 "Glad to see you here." He handed the Healer some 
 money. "There s my end of it, Doc," he said. 
 
 "I ll take him to Van Wert Saturday," said the Healer. 
 
 "Mum s the word," cautioned Ramsay. 
 
 "All right," said the Healer, "but I d tell them to go to 
 the devil ; you don t need the office." 
 
 "I know, I know," replied Ramsay, "but a fellow has to 
 I do something." 
 
 With an impetuous, "Well, so long, see you later," the 
 >man blended of shrewdness and kindness hurried down 
 the road. 
 
 The Healer and Emmett returned to the house and 
 cleared the dishes from the table. Within a short time 
 
66 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 two women called to pay the Healer some money. Boy- 
 like, Emmett blithely told them that he had run away from 
 Soaroffs. 
 
 News spread in country districts almost as fast as gos 
 sip in an Irish village. The telephone was then a new 
 device in the country section, and women kept the wires 
 busy with trivial happenings of local interest. 
 
 The two women were heralds of the news. The news 
 buzzed over the wire to the Layers home where the 
 Soaroffs were. 
 
 "Well, I ll swan," exclaimed the startled Mrs. Layers, 
 "Sallie Soaroff, your orphan kid s run away." The 
 startled Sallie arose from the table, and was followed 
 quickly^by Soaroff and Layers. The three stood near the 
 telephone while the news came over the wire. "He s at 
 the Healer s," ejaculated the woman, while the listeners 
 looked amazement. 
 
 "Well, good-by, Mrs. Barnes, call me up any time," she 
 said and turned to the others. 
 
 Mrs. Layers hurriedly told a twisted version of the 
 runaway, which Solomon hardly waited to hear. Ivy 
 had been a silent listener. The girl turned and walked 
 to the supper table again. She sank into a chair and laid 
 her head on the table. As though she could no longer 
 restrain her silent grief, she sobbed aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Soaroff tried to calm her, "Why, Ivy, the like o 
 you cryin over an orphan brat like him." 
 
 Solomon reappeared, followed by Layers. Solomon s 
 impulse to go to the Healer s after the boy had been 
 replaced by more solid judgment after a talk with Layers. 
 
CHANGING FORTUNES 67 
 
 "Couldn t git him back nohow, if I went," said Solo 
 mon. 
 
 Solomon acted for some days afterward as though 
 something had gone out of his life. 
 
 Mrs. Soaroff mumbled, "Course he d have to run off 
 jist fore corn-cuttin time. That s what a body gits for 
 raisin some other woman s brat." 
 
 Ivy rode the plow horse home, while the other three 
 Soaroffs rode home in the buggy. They were silent in 
 the rig, as the good qualities of the runaway boy came 
 before their stunted visions. 
 
 Ivy s heart was heavy, and as the old horse stumbled 
 slowly along, she cried softly and her face was wet with 
 tears. She knew now what the morning kiss was for, 
 and why Emmett had held her in his arms. 
 When they entered the house SoarofI looked at "Pil 
 grim s Progress" and then buried his small head in his 
 big hands and sat motionless for a long, long time. 
 
 Farewell, Ivy, sweet offspring of insane first cousins 
 whom brilliant lawmakers allowed to marry. You heard 
 death s fingers tapping upon the window of your life a 
 few years later. And the fingers never broke the glass 
 of a nobler little life than your own. Sleep peacefully, 
 Ivy, for 
 
 Nothing begins and nothing ends, 
 That is not paid with moan, 
 For we are born in others pain , 
 And perish in our own. 
 
EVENTS 
 
 A MID-SUMMER twilight in Ohio is the very essence of 
 wonder. It comes, like a beautiful maiden, and fills the 
 land with sensuous delight. Birds chatter and quarrel in 
 the trees before sleep overtakes them. At times the sun 
 sinks in mountains of clouds, and tinges them with colors 
 beyond the dreams of artists. They take on fantastic 
 shapes, and once a cloud looked to Emmett like the pro 
 file of a man. 
 
 Another time, a cloud stood near the sun, in the shape 
 of an elephant. Its trunk was dipped into the sun, and 
 it seemed as though it were drinking fire from it. 
 
 When all has faded, and before night has completely 
 covered the world, the fire-flies fly over the fields in 
 swarms. Their lights flare for a brief second and go 
 out, to flare again. They used to remind Emmett of 
 thousands of invisible little birds, carrying very tiny 
 electric lights which they continually turned off and on. 
 
 The Healer and Emmett were seated in the front yard 
 during the twilight hour. The yard commanded an open 
 view to the west. The Faith Healer had a swing, made 
 out of the branches of trees, by his own hands. The 
 swing was sometimes his haven long into the night. This 
 night, he expected Soaroff. Sometimes a rig would pass, 
 and voices could be heard in it. The clatter of the horse s 
 
 68 
 
EVENTS 69 
 
 hoofs faded into the nothingness of sound, and that was 
 all. No Soaroff came. 
 
 Emmett, with the curiosity of an imaginative boy, often 
 wondered why the Healer happened to be in the back 
 woods of Ohio. He contrasted the Healer s surroundings 
 with those of his neighbors ! He did not even own a red 
 plush-covered family album. His living-room contained 
 no dreadful chromos. There was not even a framed 
 scroll in the house with the words printed thereon, "God 
 Bless Our Home." The pictures in his room had an 
 individuality all their own. And books were every 
 where. 
 
 There were five volumes by a man named Gibbon, and 
 they told all about Rome. Emmett read those volumes. 
 In one place he read how a Roman in high authority con 
 ceived the idea of having the many slaves wear uniforms, 
 so that they might be distinguished from the people who 
 rode upon their backs. But a more cautious Roman 
 thought the idea worthless, as it would acquaint the slaves 
 with their vast number, and if they realized their power 
 they might rise and tear the Roman Empire to pieces. 
 
 There was another book almost as large as the Earth, 
 Sea and Sky book at Soaroffs ! It was called Plutarch s 
 Lives. He read about a woman who was not quite as 
 holy as the Blessed Virgin, and the Greek Prudes scorned 
 her. Her son became a great man and she felt that they 
 could not rob her of the honor of being his mother, so 
 she said, 
 
 Let the Greek women scorn me as they please, 
 I was the mother of Themistocles. 
 
70 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Then there was a steel engraving, not over eight inches 
 long, and six inches wide. It crowded a lot of country, a 
 stone house, and a girl in that small place. 
 
 The young lady was seated on the steps of the stone 
 house in an unconventional pose. 
 
 It was just as though she had been resting there and 
 the artist had caught her in a glorious moment of womanly 
 charm. 
 
 Her hair waved in heavy masses. Her face was 
 wreathed in smiles. Her even white teeth and merry 
 eyes gave the picture so much life that Emmett would 
 not have been surprised had she risen to continue her 
 walk among the flowers. She became Emmett s dream 
 woman ever since he first saw her picture, months before. 
 
 The lad wanted to hear about her, but he had ever 
 had, perhaps an inherited instinct from his mother, an 
 innate sense of delicacy, which kept him then from pry 
 ing into the personal affairs of others. 
 
 Would the Healer tell him about the girl if he asked? 
 He had never paid a visit to the Healer without looking 
 at the picture. He knew its every line. . . . Away back 
 in the distance the ocean met the land, and great rocks, 
 like women s fingers, pointed to the sky. A tiny road 
 wound its way, like a yellow string, through the picture. 
 
 Emmett was thinking of the picture now as he sat in 
 the swing with the Healer. 
 
 It became tensely quiet, and even the fireflies were tak 
 ing their lights home with them. The boy leaned close 
 to the Healer, with a daring resolve in his heart. The 
 Healer surely wouldn t think he was nosey, would he? 
 
EVENTS 71 
 
 He would not have hurt his feelings for the world for 
 the good man filled his small life like a Colossus. 
 
 He respected him so much that he started to call him 
 "Mister," a title little used in that country. The Healer 
 would not have it, so the boy never addressed him by any 
 name at all when he spoke to him. 
 
 It would have been easier for Emmett to have slapped 
 God on the back, than to have called the Healer "Doc," 
 as some of the people did. 
 
 They sat for some time without speaking. Finally, 
 the boy hesitated no longer, and broke the silence by say 
 ing, 
 
 "Won t you tell me a story? Something about the 
 ocean, or ships, or, or that pretty girl in the picture I like 
 so well?" 
 
 The Healer remained quiet for a few seconds, and the 
 boy, as if in defense, went on, 
 
 "I ll never tell a soul, if you say so. I was licked 
 hard at the Home for not tellin on kids. I m a good 
 keep stiller/ I am." A phrase he had learned at the 
 Home. 
 
 The Healer was touched. "All right, lad, I ll tell you 
 about a ship." 
 
 "No, no! Tell me about the girl, I like her." 
 
 The ghost in the closet of the Faith Healer s life 
 danced before his eyes. He struggled with the suppressed 
 longings of years. And the orphan boy sat twirling the 
 key in his hands. 
 
 The Great Dipper was vivid in the sky, and the Healer 
 used to note its changed positions at different seasons 
 
 
72 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of the year. He watched it now for a moment, then 
 began : 
 
 "Well, lad, once there was a boy who had no hard 
 knocks like you ve had. His father was a doctor away 
 over in England. He loved a girl with hair the color of 
 yours. But that makes but it s a long story, lad, and 
 the picture you like is all that s left of the girl." He 
 talked slowly, as though every word pained him. "Well 
 his father, mother and the girl all went away within 
 two years. The boy and girl used to look out over the 
 ocean and talk about America, three thousand miles away. 
 That was at Land s End. After she went away to the 
 silent country, the boy, who was no longer a boy then, 
 but a young man with three years study of medicine 
 to his credit well, he had many notions in his head, and 
 he wanted life, any kind of life, so he went wherever 
 ships took him. He had a passion for anatomy, that s 
 about the bones of the body, lad, and for years he read 
 all he could find about the bones and the mind. He wan 
 dered over the world for ten years, and no one knew who 
 he was, or cared. But he read books and lived a full 
 life. He thought a great deal as the ship plowed slowly 
 through the waves away out in the ocean. One time in 
 Melbourne, that s in Australia, he met a sailor from Ohio. 
 After talking to the sailor, the boy took the funny notion 
 of buying a little farm in an inland place like Ohio, 
 where he would be away from the ocean forever. So the 
 boy is now over seventy years old, and he s been on his 
 little farm over thirty years. But the little farm was 
 a black woods then." The Healer stopped a moment, then 
 

 EVENTS 73 
 
 continued, "And you re the only one I ve ever told, even 
 so little. Remember, lad, you re a good keep stiller. " 
 
 They soon retired for the night. The boy lay awake a 
 long time, and wondered about the girl asleep in Land s 
 End, and the Healer. He heard the roosters crowing, and 
 he knew that it must be midnight. Presently the clock 
 struck twelve. The boy s mind tried to solve why a 
 simple fowl crowed near midnight. He wondered at last 
 about Ivy, and why she was different from the other 
 Soar off s. Then he thought of his mother. 
 
 That night he dreamed that he saw Ivy and his own 
 mother driving a spirited black stallion, hitched to a brand 
 new rubber-tired buggy, past the Healer s home. Ivy s 
 hair was very black, and her face was deathly white. 
 His mother s hair was a brilliant red, and very long and 
 the wind swept it backward until it resembled the flame 
 of a great torch, flying through a tempest at night. Her 
 face was even whiter than Ivy s a ghastly terrible white. 
 Her slender hands clutched the lines, as she leaned for 
 ward in tense position, as Emmett had seen drivers of 
 fast trotting horses sit, in lithograph pictures of races 
 held at the County Fair. The horse literally flew. Em 
 mett dashed madly after them, and as he ran, the buggy 
 turned into a hearse, which faded from sight. He awoke 
 sobbing. He could not shake the effect of the dream. 
 The Healer was breathing regularly, his arm stretched 
 across his bed. Emmett crawled into the bed with him 
 and laid his head upon the Healer s arm. 
 
 When day streaked its rays of light through the house, 
 Emmett was awakened by the Healer, who had risen long 
 
 
74 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 before him. The odor of breakfast filled the house. 
 "Come on, lad, we ll drive to Van Wert to-day, instead of 
 Saturday. We ll have to start early with old Sarah." 
 
 Emmett had gone to Van Wert once with Soaroff to 
 hear William McKinley speak. He stood very close to 
 him at the time, and the picture he made has never been 
 erased from his memory. McKinley s face fascinated 
 him. It was sharp, like an eagle s. His clothes fitted 
 him so well, and his figure was so handsome. He started 
 his speech by saying, "Fellow Citizens of Ohio, my own 
 loved state," and the words thrilled Emmett. He knew 
 McKinley s history how he had worked on a farm, and 
 had then taught school. Try as he would, Emmett could 
 not imagine the handsome, great man ever having been 
 a farm laborer. He was a god to Emmett, from an 
 other world. 
 
 Old Sarah jogged along the road, as if she was con 
 scious of the fact that Emmett was to have new clothes. 
 That fact had not as yet dawned on Emmett. The 
 Healer had reserved that as a surprise. 
 
 Sarah tried to turn in at the Ramsay home, but when 
 the line was jerked slightly she resumed her slow jog 
 past the house. Emmett waved at Effie, who stood in the 
 doorway. 
 
 At last the Ridge Road was reached, where many 
 vehicles traveled. This road was a scenic highway, and 
 it stretched for miles, and all lesser roads from Lima to 
 Fort Wayne ran toward it. All the country people felt 
 relieved when they came to the Ridge Road. Old Sarah 
 even took on a new lease of life. She perked up her 
 
EVENTS 75 
 
 ears like an ancient race horse, who feels the track under 
 its feet once more. 
 
 But Van Wert looked different now than it did the day 
 McKinley had been there. At that time, like the man 
 who could not see the forest for the trees, Emmett could 
 not see the town for the people. The principal street 
 was a source of never-ending delight to him. The girls 
 on the street were dressed so neatly, but they were "town 
 kids" and the boy felt the social gulf between them. 
 The court house stood on the main street. It was a vast 
 building to the boy, and men loitered in front of it just 
 as though it was a country store. A great bell donged 
 out the hour from the tower. 
 
 A town boy sneered at Emmett s red hat, and said, 
 "Where you goin , rube?" Emmett was indignant and 
 .before the Healer could turn around he was cuffing the 
 boy soundly. The Healer led him away. 
 
 They entered a general store where the Healer bought 
 a new suit, and new shoes, and many things for Emmett. 
 The lad walked out of the store like an Alexander with 
 a new world under his arm. 
 
 As they reached the Ramsays* on their return journey 
 the Healer said, "Thank Ramsay for the clothes, lad, he s 
 a good sort." When Emmett thanked him Ramsay said, 
 "Tut, tut," and held his hand over the boy s mouth. 
 
 They stayed some hours at the Ramsays* and it was late 
 when they reached home. 
 
 There followed, for Emmett, the happiest period of his 
 life. There was just enough work on the five acres to 
 keep him from becoming restless. When winter came the 
 
76 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Healer bought him some books and sent him to the Dis 
 trict School. He trudged thither each morning with his 
 noonday lunch in a granite dinner pail. He went to 
 "Spelling Bees" over the township, and when Emmett 
 became the champion speller of the district the Healer 
 was as proud of him as though he had been the son of 
 the girl asleep in Land s End. 
 
 He stayed at Erne s house during the Holidays. They 
 played "Postoffice" on Christmas Eve. It was a game 
 in which the girl called the boy of her choice into a room 
 and kissed him. Effie called Emmett, and gave him an 
 extra hug for good measure. They left the room to 
 gether and the other girls noticed Effie s flushed face, and 
 teased her about it. Effie liked Emmett, and her every 
 action showed it. 
 
 Her father s position, combined with her natural 
 beauty, made her the most sought after young lady in the 
 vicinity some years later. But a homeless red-headed 
 boy was the first to march like a laughing soldier through 
 the portals of her heart. 
 
 It had long been the Healer s habit to spend Christmas 
 at the Ramsays , and this Christmas was no exception. 
 Snow was on the ground, and Sarah was slightly lame, 
 so Ramsay drove over for the Healer. 
 
 The Healer looked about the place before he left, and 
 placed feed for his chickens and other animals, and shook 
 a great armful of straw beneath Sarah. He then filled 
 her manger with hay, and fastened her blanket upon her 
 more securely. 
 
 Sarah was a wearily wise old mare. Years and years 
 
EVENTS 77 
 
 before she had played the Healer false, but like a kind 
 man, who forgives an erring woman, the Healer had 
 allowed that incident to fade into the mists of obscurity. 
 
 Sarah had once been with colt, and the Healer proudly 
 expected a son or daughter, the replica of herself. And 
 Sarah ushered into the world, the son of a Missouri 
 Jack. The mortified Healer had to raise it, though the 
 vicious little mule kicked even its own mother. Sarah 
 would look at the long ears of her half-breed son, and 
 hang her head in shame. 
 
 This, of course, had happened when Sarah was quite 
 young, and though she later became a gentle mare, she 
 would always become like a wild horse of Arabia if a 
 mule even so much as looked at her. 
 
 When the Healer was safely seated in the sleigh with 
 Ramsay, the Commissioner drove his horse along as 
 though there was no beauty to be seen on either side 
 of the road. It had always been that way with the 
 County Commissioner. He had probably read in his 
 copy-book that it was a sin to squander time. The wise 
 men of the ages have shown that to squander time cor 
 rectly was the beginning of every virtue. But a wise man 
 in Ramsay s opinion was one who owned a great farm, 
 and much money. He might think that the name Shakes 
 peare was that of a new breakfast food, but that would 
 not have worried Ramsay. The Healer owned but five 
 acres and an old mare, so what did his learning get him. 
 That there were some people in the world who might have 
 envied the Healer, and not himself, would have never 
 occurred to Ramsay. So he sped on through the beautiful 
 
 
78 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 white country, as unconscious of it all as an ox in an 
 English lane. 
 
 In a short time they reached the Ramsay home. When 
 the Healer entered the room Emmett presented him with 
 a pair of driving gloves, while Effie gave him a new scarf. 
 His habit of leaving his shirt open at the throat worried 
 Effie. 
 
 Presents were exchanged all around, and the happy 
 Christmas sped away on the eagle wings of pleasure. 
 There never had been such a dinner. Emmett nudged the 
 Healer when he saw him take a generous portion of 
 turkey. 
 
 Other company came, and before long the house was 
 full of people. 
 
 Time often steals everything from life, but memory. 
 It tinges the pleasant hours of the past with an outline 
 of sadness. But, as if not to be too harsh, it blurs the 
 memory of unhappy days. If it were otherwise, the 
 accumulated sorrows of mankind would crush them. 
 
 New Year s came, and laid a new century upon the door 
 step of the world. The rustics who predicted the world s 
 end at SoaronV, were proven in time to be slightly mis 
 taken. Though it did end, for some of them. Emmett 
 watched their funerals winding to the churchyard on cold 
 winter days. 
 
 The lad read during much of his spare time. He found 
 the Healer a mine of information on every conceivable 
 subject. The boy was another Boswell asking the great 
 Johnson question after question. 
 
EVENTS 79 
 
 Emmett had always contended that the Faith Healer 
 was a great man. He was at a dinner, years later, when 
 the question of greatness in men came up. A journalist, 
 back from a world tour, and filled with the glamour of 
 this and that petty man, ridiculed the idea that a great man 
 could be satisfied to live as the Healer lived. Emmett 
 pointed out that Fabre lived among his beetles in a quiet 
 spot in France. That Christ walked, with bare feet, the 
 roads about Jerusalem. That Grant was the driver of an 
 old horse, in a small town, at forty-eight. The company 
 laughingly allowed the Healer a place with great men. 
 The Healer dared to live his life in the way that he 
 wished to live it, and that is the essence of greatness. 
 
 That never-to-be-forgotten winter was early kissed on 
 its aging cheek by spring. Filled with the melting snow, 
 the creeks dashed along like swollen miniature rivers. 
 The brightly painted buggies and spirited horses of the 
 young men made their appearance on the roads. On Sun 
 day they would stop at the Healer s home, and their sweet 
 hearts would bring him cakes and jams made with their 
 own labor and love. The Healer preached no religion, 
 and entered no church, but he was loved by these people 
 for the Christ heart that beat within his bosom. The 
 young girl, whom he had cured years before, and to 
 whose mother he had sent the rooster, came one Sunday 
 and presented him with a great white cake, imbedded in 
 which was blue and red dots of candy. 
 
 An old Italian peddler had frequented the country for 
 over twenty years, and he would always stay overnight 
 
8o EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 with the Healer. He never recovered from his astonish 
 ment at having found a man in the country who had 
 touched the shores of his native town in Italy. 
 
 One hot day in early summer Emmett and the Healer 
 were seated in the shade of a giant elm tree, in the rear 
 of the barn. This tree measured over one hundred and 
 twenty feet from tip to tip of its branches. The old man 
 had watched it carefully for years. His science of heal 
 ing had even extended to trees, and all cuts and incisions 
 which he had made in the tree had been completely and 
 permanently healed. Its branches had been trimmed so 
 that it was perfect in symmetry. 
 
 A haze spread over the landscape, and save for the 
 drone of bees and the noise of crows in the woods, all 
 nature was still. 
 
 The Healer said, "It s great to be alive, lad, and just 
 think, I ll soon be seventy-three years old, and never an 
 ache or a pain." He looked across the field where a 
 white rooster stood, crowing upon a straw stack. "I d 
 like to round out twenty-seven more years here," he said, 
 as he looked at Emmett. "You ll be quite a man by that 
 time, Emmett. You can cross many a bridge in that 
 time, yes, indeed. But one of these days, I shall make 
 a will and leave you the five acres." 
 
 "I hope you live to be a hundred, and I know you will," 
 said Emmett. 
 
 That night, at dusk, a man rode to the Healer s home 
 on a yellow mule. His wife had been bitten by a rattle 
 snake, and it was soon time for a new baby. Would the 
 Healer come ? 
 
EVENTS 81 
 
 Emmett ran to hitch Sarah to the buckboard, and when 
 this was done he led her out in the road where the Healer 
 and the farmer stood near the panting, sweating mule. 
 
 Emmett wanted to go along, but the Healer said, "I m 
 looking for Ramsay to-night, lad. You d better stay 
 home and explain why I could not be here." 
 
 Mule and rider, Sarah and the Healer were soon lost 
 in the gathering darkness. 
 
 Within an hour Ramsay came, accompanied by Effie. 
 Emmett explained the Healer s absence to him. He left 
 some papers for the Healer, and despite Effie s coaxing, 
 was quickly on his way. 
 
 Emmett read until his eyes grew heavy. He bathed 
 them in cold water, in order to drive sleep away so that 
 he might finish the last chapter of Gibbon. Finally he 
 came to the end, where the great historian told how he 
 conceived the idea of writing the History of Rome in the 
 ruins of the Capitol, and how it had taken nearly twenty 
 years of his life. Marveling at the patience of Gibbon, 
 he closed his tired eyes. 
 
 There was a negro farmer in the township, beloved by 
 all who knew him. He used to remind Emmett of the 
 picture he had seen of Old Black Joe. He rode through 
 the country district that night like another Paul Revere. 
 He knocked at the door of the Healer s home, and when 
 Emmett opened it he refused to enter, but stood, a 
 withered ebony figure in the moonlight. Emmett rubbed 
 his eyes in the doorway while the negro watched the 
 wind play through the boy s curls. 
 
 "Well, Emmie," he said, "the Faith Healer s dead." 
 
82 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Everything turned black in front of the boy, and he 
 fell forward in the negro s arms. The scared darky laid 
 down his burden and brought water from the well and 
 dashed it in the lad s face. Emmett revived, and looked 
 pitifully up at the moon, which now glimmered faintly be 
 fore his tear-filled eyes, as he said weakly, "Lord Al 
 mighty, Sam, how did it happen?" 
 
 "The Flyer hit him, but he done saved Mrs. Raynolds 
 life." 
 
 "Did it hit Sarah too?" 
 
 "Yep, it groun old Sarah undeh the wheels, but it 
 threw the Healah, and hahdly bruised him none at all." 
 
 Emmett held his hands to his face and shook violently. 
 Feeling weak in the knees, like a battered pugilist, no 
 longer able to stand, he sank to the floor of the small 
 porch and remained quiet. The negro, unaware of the 
 boy s affection for the Healer, was puzzled. Emmett re 
 covered himself and saw the outline of the man standing 
 near him a dark shadow, in which shone white eyes 
 and white teeth. 
 
 He made a move as if to go. "Don t leave me here, 
 Sam, I never want to go in the house again." 
 
 "Come with me, the Ramsays done tole me to fetch 
 you, and I fohgot." Emmett dressed hurriedly and 
 climbed up behind Sam and went to the Ramsays . 
 
 People are quicker to share our sorrows than our joys. 
 And it may be just as well, for joy is easy to bear The 
 County Commissioner s eyes were red and swollen, as 
 Emmett entered his home. 
 
 The lad had long been drilled in the army of sorrow, 
 
EVENTS 83 
 
 but when Mrs. Ramsay spoke in sympathy he cried aloud. 
 Effie came up to him and placed her arm about him, and 
 said, "Don t cry, Emmett, he was a good man," and then 
 she sobbed also. 
 
 The negro, a silent watcher, bade good night. Ramsay 
 walked to the dining room with his wife, "We ll let the 
 children alone for a while. Effie can do more with 
 Emmett." 
 
 "Just think," said Emmett, looking up, "he told me to 
 day that he wanted to live to be a hundred, and now he s 
 dead." 
 
 "Listen, Emmett, dear boy," said Effie, "the Healer is 
 with us now. I can feel his arm. He has just gone to 
 sleep. His body may be lying in Convoy, but he is here 
 with us." There was a tense moment. 
 
 "Oh," she sobbed, "it can t be that a man like him will 
 die forever. I ll never believe it I never never never 
 will. He will be with us as long as we live." 
 
 The sun pushed its way through banks of dark clouds 
 in the east. Effie had fallen asleep on the lounge, while 
 Emmett sat dazed, on the edge of it, near her. 
 
 The Ramsays drove, with Effie and Emmett, to see the 
 Healer. He was smiling faintly, as though the girl from 
 Land s End had met him. Emmett walked about in a 
 daze, and the wonderful Effie seldom left him. 
 
 The funeral procession was the longest ever seen in 
 Van Wert County. Emmett rode in the carriage with the 
 Ramsay family. As they turned at a crossing Ramsay 
 looked back and said, "Senator Ames had no such funeral 
 as this." 
 
84 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "The Senator was no such man as the Healer," returned 
 Mrs. Ramsay. 
 
 A minister drove in the procession. There was a time 
 when he felt inclined to denounce the influence of the 
 Healer from the pulpit. How glad he felt this day that 
 he had been brave and broad enough to strangle that in 
 clination. He mused as his horse kept pace with the rig 
 ahead. The Healer had faced the great darkness with 
 no hope of a green pasture in the everlasting hills of 
 rest. 
 
 He sat, a heavy jowled man, in an ill-fitting broadcloth 
 coat, turned yellow by time and the sun. Somehow he 
 could not think in terms of his creed this day. And 
 strange he thought of Lincoln in connection with the 
 Healer. Did not Lincoln say that he could take the good 
 out of all churches and make a better church than any 
 of them had ? And had not the Healer been Christ-like, 
 with no creed at all? For the first time in his life he 
 really asked himself just who Christ was. He shuddered 
 as he thought he was an agitator with a gentle dream of 
 love in head and heart. To his surprise he recalled that 
 Christ had advocated no sect at all. Could he, or would 
 he, live a pure dream to the end, and die as Christ had 
 died, with nails in his hands ? 
 
 He thought of the deacons in his church, some of them 
 avaricious, miserable men. One had denounced his own 
 daughter, because woman-like, she had trusted a man. 
 That daughter had been saved, not by fanatic men, nor 
 superficial women with serpent tongues, but by the Healer. 
 He pointed out to her that if she could manage to get the 
 
EVENTS 85 
 
 fundamentals of life correct, and if she were brave 
 enough, she could throw the bricks of the artificial build 
 ing of society right in the builder s faces. "They have 
 sent you through hell, now throw brimstone at them," 
 said the Healer. A minister had once called the Healer, 
 "the tallest tree in the forest," but that was in private 
 conversation with him. 
 
 The procession traveled another mile and turned south 
 toward Van Wert. 
 
 The minister held the lines while his horse kept pace. 
 . . . What was all this about anyhow ? Were we not all 
 like little children picking at our shells ? 
 
 Many things rushed through his mind, and as if to 
 simplify matters he returned to the sleeping man in the 
 vehicle up ahead. A ground squirrel dashed between the 
 rigs and ran hurriedly along the rail fence near the road. 
 Looking down, he saw a dead garter snake, that but a 
 short time before had been sunning itself in the warm 
 dust of the road. He pitied that dead snake. Life 
 seemed to be a series of exterminations. Sarah, the 
 Healer, the snake, the narrow escape of the squirrel. 
 
 The rigs slackened, and the first one turned into the 
 cemetery. When the last rig had entered and all stood 
 about the open grave, there was a sudden stillness. As 
 if nature were tired, and fain would rest a spell. 
 
 There was to be no sermon. Ramsay, the man who 
 had been politically afraid of Soaroff and his brothers, 
 was now brave enough to follow out his dead friend s 
 wishes. 
 
 The minister approached him. "Mr. Ramsay," he said, 
 
86 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "I wish to speak a few words, of a non-religious nature/* 
 
 "Thank you," said Ramsay, "Go ahead." 
 
 Ohio has never been lacking in speakers, but in the 
 memory of the county, no man had ever been paid such 
 a tribute. It was so humanly and gloriously delivered, 
 that it sent the speaker to the Legislature later, and kept 
 his name enshrined in ^he hearts of his hearers forever. 
 
 He said that the Healer had always been more tender 
 than the tenderest woman, and stronger than the strongest 
 man. That his good influence would make glad the hearts 
 of the world for a hundred years to come. 
 
 His heavy jowls clicked when he ended a sentence. 
 Never did Webster look more the part of the orator, than 
 this country preacher with the righting face. "They tell 
 you," he shouted, "that the evil a man does lives after 
 him. I tell you that the good does also. If that is not 
 so why do we stand here thicker than the stones that 
 sprinkle this ground? When I have felt weak, this man 
 has given me strength, by the simple record of his noble 
 life, lived from day to day. Was the love we bear him 
 artificial why, then do children cry? He needs no 
 monument here, for he has built twenty thousand monu 
 ments in twenty thousand hearts." 
 
 People of all creeds crowded about the speaker when 
 he had finished. All religious lines were obliterated, not 
 by the preacher, but by the force of a good man s life. 
 
 Emmett stood close to Effie, and asked her if she would 
 sing. "Dear me, I d break down," replied she. 
 
 "You know, Effie, he always loved to hear you sing, 
 and you say he has not gone away." 
 
EVENTS 87 
 
 "I ll sing the hymn he loved," said she. Two other 
 girls volunteered to sing with her. Their voices floated 
 like the echo of silver bells among the grave stones. 
 
 Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, 
 Lead thou me on; 
 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home, 
 Lead thou me on. 
 
 The two girls finished the song alone. Effie was weeping 
 in her mother s arms. 
 
 When all was over the crowd surged out of the church 
 yard, as the sun cast long shadows of the headstones upon 
 the ground. A Great Man had gone to pastures rich with 
 rest. 
 
 By an effort Emmett lingered with the Ramsays for a 
 short time. "I can t stay here," he said to Effie as she 
 coaxed him to remain. "I must get away, for I never 
 can forget while I m here." 
 
 The more worldly wise Ramsay saw the wisdom of 
 Emmett s decision. 
 
 The family took the boy to the same station which he 
 had seen over three years before. Effie bravely kept the 
 tears back, as she said, "111 tell Ivy you said good-by, 
 Emmett," and Emmett ashamed, said, "Yes, do, Effie." 
 
 He waved at her through the car window. And then 
 she and Van Wert faded from sight. 
 
 He tried hard to read a book Effie had given him. But 
 thoughts flew like wild birds across his mind. He fell 
 into a long revery. He wondered vaguely about Virginia, 
 
88 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 and if she would know him. So much had happened in 
 the nine years since she had stood in the yard with old 
 Shep. Where was Shep? Where and how did he die? 
 In three hours he arrived at the township of his birth. 
 
THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS 
 
 ST. MARYS is an old town, a strange town, a completely 
 original town. A canal and river flow through it within 
 a few hundred feet of each other. The bridges over 
 each arch across Spring Street, and the natives often 
 pause in their walks to look down at the yellow waters 
 flowing lazily below. 
 
 Promenading lovers and people who walked for display 
 would make use each night of the lighted section of 
 Spring Street. 
 
 St. Marys was not the County Seat, and whenever con 
 versation was slow, the citizens would expatiate on the 
 injustice done by shortsighted men who picked a smaller 
 place for that honor. For St. Marys had been the largest 
 town in the county ever since the time Mad Anthony 
 Wayne had made that section his battleground with In 
 dians over a hundred years before. 
 
 Spring Street stretched east and west, the paved bricks 
 touching the open country at each end. A brick hotel, 
 with a fountain near it, loomed majestically on the river. 
 It allowed a loitering place for actors and traveling men, 
 bartenders and preachers, and all the procession of men 
 who wore white collars and labored not with their hands. 
 
 A great reservoir almost touched the edge of St. 
 Marys. It had been built by the labor of man and horse 
 
90 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 after the Civil War, in order to feed the canal which 
 carried commerce at that time through the state. It was 
 ten miles long and seven miles wide, a gigantic mass of 
 yellow water out of which drowned trees stretched their 
 dead black branches. 
 
 Oil well derricks arose from the bosom of the inland 
 lake like the skeletons of wooden ships. 
 
 Whenever strangers asked about the reservoir they 
 were told that it was "the largest artificial body of water 
 in the world." It was a tremendous mouthful, but even 
 children said it glibly. 
 
 The railroad depot had been built as far from the 
 town as it seemed humanly possible to build it. It was 
 the nightmare of some insane architect who had long 
 since banished beauty from his heart and life. The Lake 
 Erie and Western Railroad served the town. 
 
 Its initials of L. E. and W. signified Leave Early and 
 Walk to the natives. But the road was then the only 
 connection with the outside world, and over its steel rails 
 had gone the hopes and dreams, and bitter disillusions 
 of many wandering Ohioans. 
 
 A beautiful residence street connected the town with 
 the depot. St. Marys, like a pretty girl, seemed anxious 
 to show its finest dress to the stranger. 
 
 Five saloons faced the depot, while twenty-two other 
 saloons were in the town. The population has been be 
 tween five and six thousand for many, many years. 
 
 Churches were scattered here and there, and people 
 walked on Sunday in many different directions to worship 
 the one God in many different creeds. Their paths 
 
THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS 91 
 
 crossed and re-crossed, and crossed again, while the 
 sound of bells in the steeples clanged over the quiet town. 
 
 St. Marys had not even the beginnings of a library. 
 
 Emmett now stood upon the depot platform, a forlorn 
 stranger in a land of many doubts. He placed his valise 
 upon the wooden planks and stared about him, knowing 
 not which way to turn. His celluloid collar burned his 
 neck, for the sun beat down in a blaze of fury. He wiped 
 the perspiration from his brow, and in doing so, his de 
 tachable tie fell, limp and bedraggled, upon the dusty 
 planks. 
 
 He stooped and picked it up, for it was a thing of 
 beauty to him, rainbows woven into a piece of silk red 
 and green and yellow, black and blue and pink. Emmett 
 used to gaze at it admiringly and wonder how such a 
 thing of beauty could be made for twenty-five cents. 
 
 As he fastened it on his collar button a little man 
 walked up to him. The little man was the driver of the 
 omnibus, and for years his mission in life had been that 
 of meeting strangers and taking them to the hotel or 
 wherever they might wish to be taken. 
 
 He was no larger than Emmett, and people said he had 
 once been a jockey and had squandered a fortune. How 
 ever, that must have been long ago. At any rate, he had 
 a heart so large that it must have often shaken his small 
 body nearly to pieces, for it vibrated always to all the 
 miseries of life. Many folks called him "soft" because 
 he had given a tramp ten dollars. But Johnny Roods was 
 the individual supreme. He used to sing one line over 
 land over, and whether he made it up or got it out of a 
 
92 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 book, no one knew. He would start the line low and he 
 would say the last two words rather loud, 
 
 "All you can hold in your cold dead hand is what you have 
 given away aw-ay." 
 
 And now Johnny Roods had noticed the little auburn- 
 topped stranger reentering the land of his birth. He 
 walked up to him and peered over the brass rimmed spec 
 tacles which sat on the end of his nose, 
 
 "Which way, kid?" he asked. 
 
 "I m looking for my sister, Virginia Lawler," answered 
 the boy. 
 
 "Virginia Lawler, your sister, eh! Finest girl in town, 
 speaks to a fellow every time she sees him. Come right 
 with me," and taking the small stranger s valise he led 
 him to the omnibus at the end of the station. 
 
 He bade Emmett sit in the driver s seat with him, as no 
 other passengers had arrived on the train. The team of 
 red and white ponies trotted quickly away, their steel 
 shoes clattering on the pavement of the fine residence 
 street. 
 
 Branches of elm and maple trees almost touched the 
 top of the omnibus as it rolled onward while the driver 
 sang a strangely mixed song, 
 
 Oh, there was an old darky by the name of Uncle Ned, 
 
 And he died long, long ago, 
 
 And he had no wool on the top of his head , 
 
 In the land where the cotton blossoms grow. 
 
 Away at the end of the street the omnibus stopped at a 
 
THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS 93 
 
 large white house with green shutters on the windows. 
 
 "Here s where Virginia works," said the little man, 
 and in an instant he was in the yard with the valise, with 
 Emmett following him. As Virginia came to the door 
 the little man said, "Look what I picked up at the depot," 
 and hurried away before Virginia could release Emmett 
 from her arms. 
 
 Virginia called to him in an effort to have him stop for 
 his fare, but Johnny thought not of this, and as the ponies 
 jogged toward the stable he said, "She s a fine girl," and 
 the mind of the withered ex- jockey with the green heart 
 passed to other things. 
 
 Virginia was the maid of all work at the white house 
 with the green shutters. Her salary was one dollar and 
 a half per week, and of course she was given her meals 
 and a bed also. How she clothed herself on this sum 
 is a problem for a Herbert Spencer and does not enter 
 into the confines of this story. 
 
 Being a daughter of a race as impractical with money 
 as the fairies of Killarney, she had actually saved nine 
 dollars at one time. And she never forgot to buy flowers 
 for her mother s grave. But what is a silver dollar com 
 pared with the purple sentiment that surges in an Irish 
 girl s heart? 
 
 Virginia had the hazel-brown eyes of her mother, and 
 hair a mixture of auburn and brown, and very long. She 
 had her mother s heart too. 
 
 Emmett used to tell her that if she and Johnny Roods 
 owned all the land in the world they would give it all 
 away and sleep on a raft in the reservoir. 
 
94 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 There followed a few days of visiting with Virginia 
 before the problem of existence was considered. And 
 then, one evening Virginia and Emmett walked to the 
 front of the hotel where Johnny Roods could most always 
 be found. 
 
 There he was, perched on a cane chair, his feet barely 
 touching the pavement. He was constantly answering 
 the greetings of people who passed. For Johnny was not 
 only an institution in St. Marys, he was an oak tree be 
 neath which many lives found shelter. 
 
 Johnny liked to talk about horses, and if any one would 
 talk about them with him, he would pass as a well-in 
 formed person with the ex- jockey. 
 
 Johnny had won races also, and the great and only 
 "Snapper" Garrison had been his pal, before he had 
 ridden away off to a land that has neither horses nor 
 grandstands. 
 
 When Virginia approached him the little man stood up 
 as politely as a private before a general. It had been 
 years since Johnny had worshiped at the shrine of women, 
 though local gossip had it that an actress had not been 
 as merciful with Johnny as she might have been. But he 
 never mentioned a thing about that. 
 
 The actress had gone up in her profession, having used 
 some of Johnny s money as a stepping stone and Johnny 
 had returned, like Emmett, to the land of his birth. 
 
 As Virginia told him of her plight with Emmett he felt 
 as grieved as though he were responsible for it all. 
 
 "Well, can you beat that," said Johnny. "You two kids 
 
THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS 95 
 
 rest easy to-night, for I know where I can get Emmett 
 enough to eat and sleep on." 
 
 The next day Johnny took Emmett to a livery barn, 
 where the owner gave him a job as roustabout. So 
 Emmett became the "livery barn rat" when people con 
 sidered him at all. 
 
 His principal duty was to drive about the country with 
 traveling men, and other people who wished to go to the 
 small, outlying towns. He had a bed in the office of the 
 barn upon which he slept, that is, if it did not happen 
 to be occupied by one of the customers of the twenty- 
 seven saloons. At such times the boy slept in the hay 
 mow. 
 
THE CHAIN FACTORY 
 
 THERE was a great chain factory at one end of the town, 
 wherein worked about four hundred men and boys. The 
 fires of the furnaces were made to burn strongly by an 
 immense blast which whirled through heavy zinc pipes, 
 from which smaller pipes led down, like the roots of a 
 tree, and were attached to each individual furnace. On 
 quiet days the roar of the factory could be heard above 
 everything else for miles around. It was a steady, con 
 tinuous roar, as incessant as the sea upon a silent shore. 
 
 During the winter months heater boys were engaged 
 in numbers to help the chainmakers. 
 
 Emmett succeeded in obtaining work at fifty cents per 
 day, and he also found a place to stay at two dollars per 
 week. 
 
 The chainmaker for whom he worked was a periodical 
 drunkard, and he would loaf one or two days each week. 
 Unless the boy could find work with another chainmaker, 
 he would lose the daily wage. There were weeks in 
 which he did not earn the two dollars for his board. 
 
 The chainmaker s art is the poetry of motion. The 
 furnace is built in the form of a square stove of fire 
 brick, with holes in the top the size of the links to be 
 welded into chain. The link-heater s duty is to hang the 
 open end of the links downward in the fire, out of which 
 
 96 
 
THE CHAIN FACTORY 97 
 
 the chainmaker takes them as they are heated, in endless 
 rotation, one after another. 
 
 The link is shaped upon the die, after it is skilfully at 
 tached to the red chain lying on the anvil plate. The 
 heavy trip-hammer comes down many times and shapes 
 the link upon the die into the finished chain. While it is 
 doing so the maker s hand hammer is beating a swift 
 tattoo upon the hot link, between the strokes of the trip 
 hammer. His blow must be timed to the fraction of a 
 second, for, should the trip-hammer strike his small ham 
 mer, link, die hand hammer, and perhaps the chainmaker s 
 hand are mixed in a frightful welter. 
 
 The holes in the top of the furnace would burn large 
 through the day, owing to the constant rubbing of the 
 links and the intense heat. It was the link-heater s duty 
 to mend them each morning with fire-clay. 
 
 Each winter morning, long before older people were 
 out of bed, the boys would file through the silent streets 
 on their way to the factory. Many were clad thinly, and 
 without overcoats, as they faced the winter winds. 
 
 Arriving at the factory, they would dip pieces of waste 
 in crude oil, and light them, and place the burning pieces 
 on the furnaces to enable them to see. In a short time 
 the factory would be full of the smoke from burning rags 
 and a dim, uncertain light. When the boys had finished 
 the blast would be turned on when the engine started, 
 and the roar of the factory would commence for the day. 
 
 The burning waste would be used to light the furnace 
 when the blast was turned on. The furnaces were fixed 
 so as to burn oil or gas. Red and blue blazes would spurt 
 
98 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 out of the holes in the tops of the furnaces. The heater 
 boys would then form in groups until the furnaces were 
 hot enough to heat the links. 
 
 The chainmaker would come and stand about the shop 
 like a lord at a peasants dance, until the fire was hot. He 
 would then don a sleeveless shirt, a canvas apron and start 
 to work. 
 
 Emmett enjoyed the hours in the shop, for the work 
 soon became automatic, and while he placed the links in 
 the fire his mind wandered to far places and thrilled with 
 dreams of splendid adventure. 
 
 The chain would slowly form itself under the skilled 
 hands of the maker, into red link after red link, and every 
 now and then when he would step back to swing it from 
 his anvil plate to the pile below, it would look to the boy 
 like a long red snake, bright red at the head, and gradu 
 ally becoming darker at the tail as the links coiled and 
 turned black. 
 
 The wealthy owner of the factory had once been a 
 Prussian blacksmith, and he had watched his little one 
 forge shop grow into the largest chain factory in the 
 nation. 
 
 Krantz lived in the finest house in the town. It stood 
 in the center of two acres, a red-pressed brick dwelling 
 with white stones as window sills. The slate roof was 
 red and black, and silver balls glistened on the lightning 
 rods above the roof. The house stood on a slight eleva 
 tion and yellow roads ran toward it through bright green 
 lawns. 
 
 Old Krantz walked through his factory every day, a 
 
THE CHAIN FACTORY 99 
 
 man with a domineering expression, with a fragrant cigar 
 either held tightly in his fingers, or in his jaws. The 
 odor of the cigar would float through the shop and make 
 the heater boys dissatisfied with their cheap cigarettes. 
 
 Emmett heated links for one of the most skilful chain- 
 makers in the world. Each chainmaker employed his own 
 heater boy, and paid him out o<f the money earned each 
 two weeks. So, in a sense, the boys only worked in 
 directly for Krantz. 
 
 The links seemed to literally fly into the tongs of Em- 
 mett s employer. He would stand at the fire serenely 
 oblivious of everything but the red links before him and 
 he would step backward and forward with the grace of 
 a dancing master. 
 
 The only school he had ever known very long was a 
 chain shop, and his whole life had been devoted to weld 
 ing links of steel. His chain passed the most rigid in 
 spection, for he had reached such perfection in his art 
 that he was well nigh beyond criticism. 
 
 Tom Burns was known wherever chain men gathered, 
 and when he went to distant chain shops his fame had 
 preceded him, and men and boys would gather to watch 
 him work. 
 
 Old Krantz would often stop at the fire to watch Burns 
 work. The smoke from his cigar would waft across to 
 Emmett and would affect him in the same manner that 
 the incense had affected him at the Orphanage. Krantz 
 would stand a long time and watch the Master weld 
 links, and the stern expression would soften into one of 
 admiration as the heavily lidded eyes observed his won- 
 
ioo EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 drous, precise movements. He would become so inter 
 ested in watching Burns work that he would forget to 
 puff his cigar, and to Emmett s chagrin it would go out. 
 Then, when the Master s spell had worn off, old Krantz 
 would relight it and walk on through the shop. 
 
 The boys would often throw small links at each other 
 across the shop, and one morning a lad threw a link a 
 far distance at another fleeing lad. It sailed through the 
 air, whirled about, and missed the intended object. The 
 masterful owner was taking his walk through the shop 
 like a mad king late for breakfast. The link hit him 
 right in the very center of his high and mighty forehead. 
 Wild consternation beat the air with wings of terrible 
 passion. A cat had not only looked at a king, but had 
 hit him with a link. There was more confusion than if 
 ten link-heaters had been killed. The foreman hurried to 
 the stricken owner who held his forehead as though he 
 had received a death wound. A boy laughed outright, 
 and was promptly discharged. 
 
 The owner was taken to his office, while the discharged 
 boy picked up his coat and dinner bucket while boys 
 gathered about him. They refused to allow their com 
 rade to be discharged, and they formed a committee to 
 carry their defiance to the owner. 
 
 The Superintendent came to meet them, and was told 
 their message. He was frantic with rage. He was a 
 withered man, his frame was bent almost double, and his 
 cheeks were hollow and sallow. His dry, hacking cough 
 bespoke the fact that the smoke of chain shops had almost 
 smothered his lungs. 
 
THE CHAIN FACTORY 101 
 
 "Get the hell out of here," he yelled to the committee. 
 
 "All right," retorted the leader, "but if we git out, we 
 take every kid in the shop with us." 
 
 "Take em, and be damned," was the answer. 
 
 The boys taught the older chainmakers a lesson in 
 standing together. They filed out one by one. Their 
 faces were seamed with smoke and grime, and their cloth 
 ing was tattered and soiled. But they were determined 
 youngsters holding their battered dinner buckets in their 
 hands. One boy shouted, then all joined in, "Hurray!" 
 
 "We ll see old Krantz in hell less he takes the kid 
 back the boss fired." 
 
 They stood, a defiant army, outside the gates of the 
 factory. The roar of the shop became still and a winter 
 calm settled down on all around them. Snow began to 
 fall and the wind became sharper. They started singing, 
 
 What did you do with your summer s wages, 
 Holy Moses, ain t it cold? 
 
 Chainmakers strolled out and tried to coax the boys to 
 return. A message was written to the great owner him 
 self. It read, 
 
 "We re goin home now, and we ll stay there till the boss takes 
 our buddy back. When he takes him back he kin blow the 
 whistle like the devil in the morning and we ll all pile out again." 
 
 Signed THE HEATER KIDS. 
 
 Without waiting for an answer they strolled in a body 
 toward the town. A messenger soon followed and told 
 them to return to work in the morning, and to bring the 
 discharged boy with them. 
 
102 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 The next day a notice was posted in the shop saying 
 that the throwing of links was forbidden under pain of 
 dismissal. 
 
 Fate used old Krantz in no more kindly way than if 
 he had been a humble heater of links. His wealth melted 
 away like the snow on Ohio meadows. Some people said 
 that the trust got him. At all events he did not die in 
 the finest house in the town, but elsewhere like a mad 
 eagle whom belching guns could not tame, but only kill. 
 
 He was a stern, defiant fighter, whose body now is not 
 as useful as the chains his workers made. He attached 
 great importance to himself, whereas a steel link would 
 outlast him on the earth. But his memory lingers. A 
 red-headed orphan boy will never forget the fragrance of 
 his cigars. 
 
 During the noon hour Emmett often boxed with a 
 chainmaker who had once been a pugilist of renown. 
 Danny McCall taught him many of the tricks of the prize 
 ring, and his fighter s heart used to thrill as Emmett stood 
 up before his padded blows without wincing. By the 
 time spring came he was the equal of his teacher, then 
 Danny said, 
 
 "You oughta make good at the game, kid, you got 
 everything and you can stand the gaff like an old timer. 
 If you ever start fightin don t never think in your heart 
 that any guy can lick you. Cause if you do you re 
 licked." 
 
 Emmett never forgot what Danny told him, and there 
 came a time but that is miles ahead of the story. 
 
THE CHAIN FACTORY 103 
 
 Spring came, and with splashes of green painted trees 
 and lawns with vivid color. The factory became a prison 
 from which Emmett made himself free. 
 
 He took up his post at the livery barn again and as he 
 drove along the roads on warm spring days his soul re 
 sponded to beauty all about him. 
 
 There was beauty everywhere, as though the God of 
 Beauty had at last decided to enthrone his kingdom in the 
 minds and hearts of men. The boy, ever conscious of 
 nature, would sit quietly in the buggy while the horse 
 jogged along the peaceful road. His dreams were many 
 and filled with the wonder of the years ahead. He lived 
 much in a world made up of people in books, and their 
 struggles, triumphs and defeats were a part of himself. 
 Indeed, many of the book characters he met at this time 
 will remain with the boy until he goes vagabonding down 
 the last long road alone. 
 
 The magic of spring re-awakened the sleeping dreams 
 of people in the town who had not even the shadow of 
 the dream left, if illusion had not come to their assistance. 
 But illusion is the kindest of mistresses, she never haggles 
 or scolds, and her negligee is always of daintiest silk, and 
 hangs in harmonious lines about her tempting body. She 
 takes in her arms the brain- and heart-wearied soldier 
 home from the battle, she kisses the wounds in his bat 
 tered body, and brushes back the matted curls from his 
 bleeding forehead. She strips him of the tattered uni 
 form, and in its stead she clothes him in a glamour of ego, 
 and gives him sufficient of herself to make him go stum 
 bling into the next battle. 
 
RUTH EMORY 
 
 EMMETT doubly welcomed a young woman who came 
 riding into his life on a steed laden with dreams. 
 
 One day he was asked to drive to Lima, over twenty 
 miles away. The best horse in the barn was hitched to 
 the finest buggy, and shortly afterward, Emmett waited 
 in front of a lilac blooming yard, past which the St. 
 Marys River ran. 
 
 There stepped out of the house and down the lilac 
 bordered walk a young woman in the middle twenties. 
 She wore a dress of pink linen, a blue hat, and white 
 shoes and stockings. At her throat was a thing of beauty 
 which would have been the delight of the master gold 
 smith, Cellini. 
 
 It was a Roman gold cross completely studded with 
 emeralds and pearls. The colors contrasted against the 
 white background of her throat. 
 
 The cross dated back to Ruth s grandmother and a 
 sleepy town in Italy. For Ruth Emory was the daughter 
 of an Italian mother and an Irish father. Michael 
 Emory, her father, had been a blending of all the varied 
 shades that make up the Irish character. Among the 
 things she had inherited from him was an instinctive feel 
 ing for the immensity of life and its sadness. 
 
 In her father s nature was combined the gentleness of 
 
 104 
 
RUTH EMORY 105 
 
 a lamb and the wild ferocity of a jungle lion, the outlook 
 of a pagan upon life, tinged with the melancholy sentiment 
 of the religion of his fathers. He was a forceful man, 
 and the record of his life had been an unending battle with 
 other forceful men. For Michael Emory had been a 
 pioneer in the oil fields of Ohio. 
 
 He had married an Italian woman with brilliant mind 
 and beautiful body. He was twelve years her senior, but 
 she loved him till the end of his tempestuous life. To 
 those people who could play on the tender chords of his 
 nature, he was the kindest human being alive; to those 
 others, he was a caged animal, snarling at life. He be 
 came wealthy before he was thirty years old. He met his 
 future wife when she was eighteen. She was the 
 daughter of a long line of Italians from whom the years 
 had taken everything but breeding and culture. The 
 girl s beauty captivated the man, and he sent her to col 
 lege, and upon her graduation she became his wife. 
 
 And then, Ruth Emory came and blended all the di 
 verse elements of her father and mother, with possibly a 
 few of their fathers and mothers, for the line of genealogy 
 stretches back into the remote periods of time and leads 
 from the ape in the jungle to Whitman with his pen. 
 
 As she seated herself beside Emmett, he was completely 
 fascinated and sat quite still with the lines in his hands, 
 while the horse switched its tail, impatient to be gone. 
 
 "Do you know the road to Lima?" came the words 
 from behind the Golden Cross. 
 
 "Yes," answered the boy, "it runs through Buckland 
 and Cridersville." 
 
io6 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "But let me drive/ said the girl. "I love horses, and I 
 know every rod of the way. It will be long past midnight 
 before we return, but your mother will not be worried 
 about you, will she?" 
 
 "No," replied Emmett, "my mother will not worry." 
 
 "Perhaps she is used to you being away from home." 
 
 "My mother s dead," said the boy. 
 
 A silence fell upon the two as the horse s feet pattered 
 upon the pike that stretched away to Lima. 
 
 "Who was your mother ?" asked Ruth Emory. 
 
 "Marie Desmond Lawler," answered the boy proudly, 
 "Emmett Desmond s sister." 
 
 "Well, dear me!" exclaimed Ruth. "I have heard so 
 much about them both from my father. But he s dead 
 now." 
 
 Great clouds, like blue, gray and black mountains 
 traveled mightily across the blue sky. They merged to 
 gether and their colors blended into the one vast color of 
 black, which hid the sky, seemingly forever. Men walked 
 slowly behind plows across the cornfields. From afar 
 the voices of crows could be heard in the woods, and now 
 and then the rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker upon a dead 
 tree. A scarlet tanager flew along the road, as brilliant 
 a vision as the girl who sat near Emmett. Ruth uttered 
 a startled cry at the winged beauty, and then young 
 woman and boy looked at each other. Ruth now held 
 her hat in her lap, and the wind caressed stray locks of 
 hair as dark as a raven s wing. Emmett even forgot the 
 scarlet tanager as he looked at her. 
 
 Dark clouds rumbled like the echo of a Waterloo in an- 
 
RUTH EMORY 
 
 107 
 
 other county. Flashes of lightning began to tear across 
 the sky. The clouds roared louder and louder. The de 
 fiant girl sat quietly in the buggy and looked at the dark 
 and dazzling heavens. Then she said, 
 
 "There s a God up there, and he is a thousand feet 
 tall, and his arms are two hundred feet long, and he is 
 whipping his lions with an electric whip that burns their 
 bodies when it strikes. The lions roar and then purr like 
 cats at his feet. His beard is fifty feet long and fiery 
 red. When he is tired of his sport he puts the whip away, 
 and horses with wings fly through the air trailing a chariot 
 behind them. Pretty girl angels fly as thick as larks 
 after a storm, and then God laughs a red laugh and goes 
 away, and all the farmers in Ohio start to plowing corn 
 again when the sun comes out." She paused a moment 
 and looked at Emmett. 
 
 "Wouldn t you like to be a God?" she asked. 
 
 "No," replied the boy, "a fellow would get tired of 
 being the same thing all the time. Besides, I d worry so 
 much about the people in hell I d quit the job." 
 
 "Do you believe in hell?" asked Ruth. 
 
 "No, but we re going to get a hell of a ducking if we 
 don t get under some roof." Ruth laughed at Emmett s 
 frank reply, and hurried the horse onward. 
 
 The rain fell. Men and animals scampered for shelter 
 and Ruth drove hurriedly to the friendly protection of a 
 nearby barn. It stood in the center of the yard and was 
 open at each side in the manner of a tunnel. A boy ran 
 out of the house with an umbrella, and Ruth was invited 
 inside. 
 
io8 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "I thank your mother so much," said Ruth, "but the 
 storm will soon be over, as the light is breaking in the 
 east." 
 
 In a short time the clouds dispersed, and those which 
 remained in the sky turned a vivid white and red, and 
 seemed to play in the heavens, so merrily they flew. 
 
 Men and animals emerged from shelter, while roosters 
 crowed, and hens busied themselves with worms which 
 trailed blindly upon the ground. 
 
 As Ruth drove out of the barnyard gate, the women of 
 the farm came out and looked up at the sky, and ex 
 changed friendly greetings with her. 
 
 "I m not afraid of storms," said she to the farmer s 
 wife ; "even when I was a little girl I used to love to watch 
 the lightning." 
 
 "You re a chip off the old block," said the woman. "I 
 went to school with your father and he weren t afraid of 
 the devil himself." 
 
 "No , but Daddy used to be afraid of me," answered 
 Ruth. The women waved as Ruth and Emmett drove 
 toward Lima. 
 
 That city was sighted an hour afterward, and when 
 late at night they returned to St. Marys, the tired boy 
 slept upon his cot with the wonder of a woman in his 
 heart, not knowing that Ruth was full of vague wonder 
 about him, and why Fate had placed the soul of a poet in 
 a homeless livery barn flunky. She fell asleep asking 
 herself why this boy was different from the other boys 
 she knew. 
 
SLIM EDDIE 
 
 THERE were several picturesque characters in the small 
 town. Slim Eddie was not the least of these. There 
 had been a red page in his book of life which had long 
 ago become a classic in the minds of the elder citizens, 
 and has been handed down to their children. For Slim 
 Eddie was verging close to the end of his span of life. 
 He was senile, toothless and shriveled now, though there 
 was still the look of the untamed bird about his eyes. 
 
 By a peculiar twist of life he had friends in each of 
 the social circles of the town, though his favorite lounging 
 place was in a large chair, in front of the livery barn, 
 which in turn faced the sluggish canal, with only a road 
 way between. 
 
 For Slim Eddie had been as close to death as any 
 man alive. Why death had even blown its breath in his 
 face. He tottered along the streets now, the shell of a 
 man, going broken to his grave. 
 
 Slim Eddie had never been a respectable character, 
 though there were many people who had not the noble 
 qualities of old Slim, jail bird though he was, with 
 bruised and broken wings. 
 
 Slim Eddie s youth had been a fire that burned fiercely, 
 and he stood out as a "good" man in Ohio, when a "good 
 man" was supposed to be able to whip a half dozen other 
 
 109 
 
no EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 men. Slim Eddie was the last of a Fighting Trinity 
 Michael Emory and Emmett Desmond had been the other 
 two. 
 
 And whisper it softly Slim Eddie had once been hand 
 some. Even the conservative Cincinnati Enquirer had 
 called him the handsome desperado. But Slim Eddie 
 was not desperate, he was merely a brave man who had 
 faced a dangerous situation in a desperate manner. At 
 heart, he had always been as gentle as a child until, of 
 course, the fury of the battle was upon him. To look at 
 the stooped old man now one would not imagine that 
 he had once been six feet of whalebone, as quick as a 
 panther in his movements, and as relentless as a tiger 
 when fighting for its life. 
 
 He carried the stub of a thumb on his left hand. Part 
 of it had been bitten off by an animal man when Slim 
 was young, but he had kept on fighting, and had bat 
 tered the other man s features with the hand from which 
 half of the thumb had been bitten. 
 
 Liquor used to be in abundance at the country dances 
 in the old days, for the males would take a goodly supply 
 within them, and a goodly supply in bottles without. 
 And poor Slim Eddie had but one mistress to whom 
 he had been true. She made him dance to a mad red 
 tune all his life, and her name was Whisky. 
 
 Guns were seldom used in the frontier days of Ohio, 
 for guns were considered a cowardly weapon of defense, 
 if two men were equally matched. Indeed it is likely 
 that some of the gun-men of the west would have been 
 whimpering cowards in the hands of men like Slim 
 
SLIM EDDIE in 
 
 Eddie. For many of the western gun-men were abject 
 cowards without a gun in their hands. A fighter in 
 Slim s environment had to be an all-around man, and 
 Slim in his day could whip "his weight in wildcats." 
 
 Johnny Roods used to tell, for Johnny had been a 
 jockey, and was never a fighter, that one time he had ac 
 companied Slim to a barn dance, and that Slim had 
 immediately climbed out of the buggy and had knocked 
 seven men down. Johnny continued sadly, "And I 
 climbed out of the. other side, and seven men knocked 
 me down." Johnny and Slim were great friends and 
 the old rascal used to chuckle over the memory of the 
 incident. 
 
 Fate stacked the cards on Slim. Three men rode over 
 from Celina way with the express purpose of engaging 
 him in battle. Others had ridden to watch the conflict 
 as men will ride to see several men enrage a bull in Spain. 
 
 The battle came off on schedule, a taunt from one 
 of the three, and the women stood near the wall, while 
 the three men and Slim drank the purple wine of battle. 
 
 One of the men tried to get Slim by battering him 
 over the head with a piece of lead, around which leather 
 had been sewed. The blackjack did not kill Slim, but 
 one of the three men sank to the floor beneath his terrible 
 blows. His eyes closed forever. 
 
 The man died on the floor, and the battered Slim 
 rushed at the user of the blackjack who had stopped to 
 help his fallen comrade. Slim clutched his mighty left 
 hand in the man s hair and slammed his jaw with horrible 
 blows, screaming, "I intend to kill you, God d n you, 
 
ii2 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 and the other skunk with you." The man sank, a drab 
 bled scarecrow with a broken jaw. The third man 
 quailed before the menacing figure of Slim, who stood, a 
 madman, ready to spring. Like a bird before a snake, 
 the man could make no move. "Up with your hands, 
 you cowardly devil," yelled Slim, but the man stirred 
 not, and Slim gathered him in his arms and threw him 
 out of a window. The glass crashed in a thousand 
 pieces, and the dance hall was deserted. 
 
 Slim was tried for manslaughter. Even the Judge ad 
 mired his vanquishing of three men, but law is law, and 
 because he struck a blow hard enough to kill a man, he 
 was given two years in the penitentiary. 
 
 He served eighteen months and returned home defiant 
 and snarling. He was now an ex-convict and the thought 
 rankled him. 
 
 He slipped down the hill of life until he reached the 
 bottom, and there he stayed. A kind word, the right 
 companionship, the lure of a good woman might have 
 helped Slim at this time. But so often in life women 
 reach the swimmer after he has struggled to the shore. 
 
 Two men and one woman never deserted Slim. 
 Michael Emory always sent him money, and there were 
 those who said that if the Judge had not been Emory s 
 friend that Slim might have been sent up for some years 
 longer. Emmett Desmond used to take Slim out into the 
 country, and Marie Lawler cooked good meals for him. 
 
 Old Slim had remembered, and seated in his chair by 
 the yellow water of the sluggish canal, he told of their 
 
SLIM EDDIE 113 
 
 kindness to him. And now, Ruth and Emmett, the chil 
 dren of his friends were his friends also. 
 
 "Your uncle was all man/ said old Slim to Emmett; 
 "he had hands as big as a ham, and his shoulders were 
 broad as a barn. Mike Emory offered to bet five thou 
 sand dollars on him agin John L. Sullivan. And when 
 John L. gave his exhibition in Lima they didn t offer no 
 three hundred for any man who d stay with him four 
 rounds. No good Irishman can lick another good Irish 
 man in four rounds, and old John L. knew it." And the 
 old man gazed at the sluggish canal. 
 
 "What about my mother?" asked the barn flunkey of 
 the ex-convict. 
 
 "Your mother," replied Slim, "ah, there was a good 
 woman. They took her away early, and they leave an old 
 wreck like me. Down at the Insane Asylum there s 
 crazy people a hundred years old, who can t be cured, 
 and they take Marie Lawler from her kids before she s 
 thirty-five. Most anybody could run the world better n 
 that." And again the bleared old wastrel looked at the 
 sluggish canal. 
 
 But about the red page in the life of Slim Eddie: 
 He lived in the underworld of the town and two strange 
 men had often been seen with him. There came from 
 the large cities in the state the news that the two men 
 had records printed in ink on books kept by the police. 
 
 Whether a coincidence or fact a local bank was 
 robbed, by whom no one knew. The two men had dis 
 appeared, but Slim stayed in town, knowing in his heart 
 that he was not a thief. 
 
ii4 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 As bad luck would have it, one night when his Mistress 
 Whisky was disrobed in his brain, he was accosted by 
 three men at the edge of the reservoir, over which a faint 
 moon threw dim shadows. Had he been sober, it might 
 not have happened, for Slim could have proven his inno 
 cence. But the Mistress whispered in his ear, and his 
 blue revolver spat five vicious flashes in the night. Three 
 times five vicious flashes spat back at him, and the man 
 who dropped the three men was himself dropped by the 
 three. 
 
 Then the whalebone body began its terrible struggle 
 between life and death, while the Law played a waiting 
 game. Two of the three men were so close to their 
 graves that they could see the worms crawling in them. 
 Slim had placed two bullets in the first two men and one 
 in the last man. And the one bullet in the last man had 
 plowed a dangerous furrow near his heart. So the Law 
 waited. If either of the three men died, and if Slim 
 survived, he would possibly later die, with his whalebone 
 neck surrounded by a hempen necktie. 
 
 But the three men recovered quicker than did Slim, 
 for the latter had nine bullet holes in his body. 
 
 Slim said himself that he had no voice in the matter, 
 but Slim was unconsciously a fighter, and his whalebone 
 body recovered. 
 
 The city papers sent reporters to cover the trial which 
 Slim sat listlessly through. As the three men told their 
 stories men marveled how a drunken man could come 
 so near to hitting five vital spots in three different men. 
 
 But they were gallant men, for when Slim received his 
 
SLIM EDDIE 115 
 
 sentence, they shook hands with him, and Slim shook 
 hands and said, 
 
 "You damn cheap bloodhounds, you oughta know I 
 wasn t a thief ; now I gotta do fourteen years." 
 
 The Judge had been given a sad task to perform. He 
 was neither cruel nor kind, but merely a machine who 
 knew not how to temper justice with mercy. He gave 
 the man with nine wounds in his body fourteen years at 
 hard labor. Then Fate pitied Slim, and made him unable 
 to labor hard. Thus nature evens the score, not always, 
 but now and then. 
 
 Slim was pardoned after seven years, thanks to Michael 
 Emory and a humane governor. 
 
 Now, with Slim Eddie and Ruth in Emmett s life, the 
 months flew by on the golden wings of pleasure. To the 
 boy, with his turbulent groping soul, Ruth was an un 
 ending series of infinite delights. 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 
 
 RUTH and Emmett saw much of each other and turned 
 the sunbeam days into moonbeam nights. The roving 
 son of the dreamer woman had found a harbor by acci 
 dent that many more daring sailors had looked for in 
 vain. The boy s mind caught fire from the heat and 
 vivid color of her own. He was enthroned in a land of 
 dreams, and all sordid objects took on the hue of beauty, 
 until life itself was not a procession of defeats, but a 
 Mayday fancy beneath a blossoming apple tree while the 
 wind played through the branches. 
 
 He was enraptured with the very wonder of life, and 
 it spread out before him, now slowly moving, and now 
 in weird, fantastic colors that would fade from sight and 
 again reappear, like silver threads of gossamer passing 
 from darkness to the light of the sun. 
 
 Ruth came into Emmett s life after months of desultory 
 reading had made his brain weary from trying to retain 
 the ideas of many writers. 
 
 She turned many of the copybook maxims to suit her 
 own meaning of life, and arrived at her own conclusions, 
 regardless of the opinions of wise man or fool. 
 
 "They tell you, Emmett," she said once, "that life is 
 what you make it. That is only half true. Life is also 
 what other people make it." 
 
 116 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 117 
 
 Never was desert dawn more peaceful than the hours 
 the boy spent with her. Ruth s was not a life, but a fever 
 that burned in hot embers. She alternately sought ex 
 citement, then peace, storm, then calm. 
 
 "I was born in a tornado," she said, "and perhaps I 
 shall go out in one." 
 
 There came a never-to-be-forgotten day in which all 
 the harmonies of earth were in tune. Emmett was or 
 dered to take a rig to the house where Ruth lived with 
 her mother. When he reached there she was waiting in 
 the doorway in a blue and white checked dress. She was 
 as dainty as a pearl in a nest of diamonds. 
 
 "Now, Emmett," she said, as she seated herself beside 
 him, "I have planned this day all for you. Sometimes I 
 hate days in small towns, they crawl along like wounded 
 snakes, but this is to be a butterfly day in the country. 
 Let the horse trot until it reaches the St. Marys pike." 
 
 The horse seemed to hear and obey the words as it 
 trotted out of the town to the pleasant open country. 
 Ruth sat silent until St. Marys was well behind them 
 and then her blue eyes danced as she went on, 
 
 "Now, Emmett, we are going first to the Forty Acre 
 Pond to hunt mud turtles. After we catch them and 
 make them mad, we will let them go; then we will go to 
 Aunt Maggie Donovan s for dinner, then on to Kossuth, 
 and around through Glynnwood and home again." She 
 clapped her hands at the prospect. 
 
 Numerous rigs were met wending their way to town, 
 and on the faces of many of the people who rode within 
 them was not the serene and glorious joy of living, but 
 
n8 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 the tired look of men and women long weary from 
 gazing at the sun. 
 
 The Forty Acre Pond, as its name implies, is forty 
 acres of land over which yellow waters roll. Roads are 
 near its banks, over which mud turtles crawl back and 
 forth from the water. Frogs croak dismally near it at 
 all hours of the day and night. Sometimes wild ducks 
 would light there and send up a momentous clatter to the 
 sky above. 
 
 A great gravel pit was near it. It was a deep hole in 
 the earth from which thousands upon thousands of loads 
 of gravel had been hauled in order to make the roads of 
 the county the pride of the state. 
 
 Country children helped Emmett and Ruth capture 
 mud turtles that snapped their vicious little heads from 
 under shells at sticks which came too near them. When 
 it came time to go the turtles were all driven patiently 
 toward the water into which they dropped with a dull 
 plunk. 
 
 As the barefooted children stood in the road, each held 
 a silver coin in his hand which Lady Bountiful had given 
 them. Ruth brought something into every person s life 
 which crossed her own. 
 
 When they reached Aunt Maggie Donovan s, Ruth was 
 given a reception which only Aunt Maggie could give to 
 the brother s child whom she had always loved. For 
 Michael Emory had bought the two hundred acres upon 
 which John Donovan lived and had presented it to him 
 when "Ruth was a tot of a child," as Aunt Maggie Dono 
 van said. 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 119 
 
 John Donovan was a kind man with a gray goatee. 
 His face was florid, and blue veins ran all over it in many 
 directions, like little blue rivers flowing through a red 
 field. 
 
 Aunt Maggie Donovan was round and happy. She had 
 time to spare for every vagrant or peddler who passed her 
 door. "Indade," she used to say, "Mike Emory was good 
 to us, so I ll be good to others." 
 
 Ruth s cousins scampered here and there and brought 
 cream and meat from a cool cave in the ground. They 
 were soon seated about the table. 
 
 "Aye," said Aunt Maggie, after a sally from John Don 
 ovan, "ye re as sharp as a lawyer s ax." 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "but I m nary as sharp as a 
 woman s tongue." 
 
 "There ye go, slammin the women. Ye can t get along 
 with us, and ye can t get along without us, shame on 
 ye." 
 
 "Aye!" said John Donovan to Emmett, "it s a good 
 thing Dick didn t see your red head." 
 
 "Who is Dick?" asked Ruth. 
 
 "He s our gentleman cow," and as the happy family 
 laughed, Ruth s face became as florid as her uncle s. 
 
 The sun threw mid afternoon shadows across the fields 
 when they bid the happy family good-by. Tears gath 
 ered in Aunt Maggie Donovan s eyes, as she held the frail 
 girl close to her, "Ruthie dear, you re an angel from 
 heaven. God love ye !" 
 
 "Why, Auntie, I m just your niece, that s all." 
 
 "Stay out in the open all ye can, Ruthie ; we don t want 
 
120 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 ye to go the way your brother did, a coughin his lungs 
 out" 
 
 "Why, Auntie ! You awful alarm clock. I never felt 
 better than I have this summer." 
 
 For some distance down the road Ruth remained silent, 
 and looked at the passing landscape. 
 
 "I wonder what the world would be if it were not for 
 women like Aunt Maggie. She was born kind, I think." 
 
 Suddenly Ruth held her hands to her shell-like ears, 
 "Every now and then I have a noise in my head like a 
 lawn mower mowing grass, and sometimes I hear silver 
 bells ring for an hour at a time. Silver bells on lawn 
 mowers a strange combination." 
 
 The horse turned at a cross roads from which a 
 church steeple could be seen towering above houses in a 
 village. It was a replica of a village in Ireland. 
 
 They entered the village, across the road from which 
 was a Village of Silent Irish. 
 
 They had once danced to the music of weird songs, and 
 their Irish hearts had thrilled at the memory of Irish 
 loves, but now they slept on forever undisturbed by the 
 noise of the trains that crept by their village as often as 
 five times a day. And sometimes a train would pass at 
 night, but so far as was known, not one person in the 
 Silent Village had ever complained of the noise that it 
 made. 
 
 In front of the Village of Irish Dreamers was a long 
 iron pipe which penetrated through wooden posts, in 
 order that the living might tie their horses should they 
 wish to converse with the dead. 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 121 
 
 In the center of the Silent Village a tall marble shaft 
 pointed to the sky. Ruth looked at it, then slowly said, 
 
 "Daddy sleeps over there, Poor Daddy." 
 
 As they stood over Michael Emory s grave the futility 
 of all things human entered the souls of the two Ohio 
 children. The man sleeping near them had made a ripple 
 in the world s ocean. And now . . . Ruth stood in a daze 
 for many moments, and then leaned upon Emmett and 
 walked across the Village to where a smaller stone stood 
 forlornly upon a sunken grave. Some withered flowers 
 were upon it, and attached to them was a card upon 
 which could be read the half obliterated name of Virginia. 
 Chiseled into the stone was the name "Marie Lawler," 
 Aged 34 Years, Three Months and Seven Days. R. I. P. 
 A grotesque little lamp was lying down above the name. 
 Fifty feet away was another stone beneath which the man 
 slept who had likened Emmett s mother s life to a white 
 rose. 
 
 As they returned to Michael Emory s grave Ruth held 
 Emmett s arm, and said, "Sometimes, Emmett, I wish I 
 were here with Daddy." 
 
 Great black buzzards flew far above them, seeming to 
 ride upon waves of air. They flew in circles, now darting 
 hundreds of feet with no perceptible movements of wings 
 at all. 
 
 By a roundabout way they reached the St. Marys res 
 ervoir. The sun sank across it and transfused sky and 
 water in one immense color of crimson. White clouds 
 to the east were tinged with the red reflection, while a 
 brilliant star made its appearance in the sky. The long, 
 
122 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 lingering twilight came and wrapped the two travelers 
 about with its magic blanket. Though the temptation of 
 home and rest might have lured the horse on, it was still 
 contented to walk slowly along the road. By and by many 
 stars appeared, to keep the bright star company, and 
 looking up, Ruth spied the Seven Sisters low in the 
 heavens. 
 
 "Just think, Emmett, those sisters have been together 
 a long, long time." Emmett made no reply, but sat as 
 one in a dream. The perfumed odor of Ruth s hair was 
 very close to him. The wind waved the dark clusters 
 at her temples. 
 
 Ah, pleasures of life, snatched from men with millions 
 and placed in the hands of an orphan boy along a country 
 road. Men have gone singing down to death for the 
 friendship of such a woman. 
 
 Long after the twilight had been banished by dark 
 ness, they passed under the farthest arc-light at the edge 
 of the town. The horse trotted along Spring Street with 
 such pride that people turned to look at it. The noise 
 of its hoofs was muffled as they struck the dirt road 
 that led to the barn. As they reached the entrance 
 they beheld the figure of Slim stretched out in a woe 
 begone attitude. His eyes were half open and his jaws 
 sagged. 
 
 The attendants at the barn took the horse in hand, as 
 Ruth and Emmett hurried to Slim. 
 
 As though he felt the presence of a more charming 
 woman than his own mistress, old Slim s eyes turned 
 toward Ruth as she leaned over him. Never did wounded 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 123 
 
 animal dying in the rain look more pathetic. The girl 
 knelt and took the battered old head in her hands. 
 
 Emmett phoned from the barn office, and in a few 
 moments Dr. Roble came and kindly ministered to the 
 weary derelict. He was carried into the barn and laid 
 upon a cot with all the gentleness that Irish peasants 
 would have given to a stricken priest. As Ruth stood 
 above him the old man looked up humbly and said, 
 "Thank ye, Ruth you re Mike Emory s daughter, all 
 right." 
 
 "You must be careful, Slim," she said, as she placed 
 her hand on his forehead; "you can t drink the liquor 
 you once could, you know." 
 
 "The dickens I can t. Only one man ever lived who 
 could stand up under more red-eye than I could, and 
 that man was Mike Emory." 
 
 "I know," replied Ruth, "but Emmett and I were at 
 Daddy s grave to-day." Ruth was thoughtful as they 
 climbed the hill toward Spring Street. "Dr. Roble," she 
 asked, "what was there about my father that made men 
 like Slim love him?" 
 
 "Your father," answered the doctor, "was a genuine 
 man. Slim and Johnny Roods could tell you stories of 
 his kindness that would, well! Slim Eddie said it 
 you are the daughter of Mike Emory." The doctor bade 
 good night. 
 
 "Come along with me," said Ruth to Emmett. "My 
 mother will scold and I ll need you to take my part." 
 
 As they entered the house, the colored servant rose to 
 greet them. She was knitting a woolen stocking large 
 
124 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 enough to fit a barber pole. The floor shook as she ejected 
 her three hundred pounds from the cluir. "Laws a 
 massey, chile, I done thought you was lost Where you 
 all been?" And without waiting for an answer she 
 waddled to the kitchen. 
 
 "Aunt Nancy has been with me all my life, even when 
 I went to Oberlin," said Ruth to Emmett. \Yhen Ruth. 
 her mother and Emmett were seated at the table Aunt 
 Nancy seated herself near them for the double purpose 
 of waiting upon them, and entertaining herself. Aunt 
 Nancy was loquacious and did not always wait for ideas 
 before she talked. Now she had a new adventure to tell 
 about. 
 
 "Big niggah tramp came heah to-day, right up to the 
 doah, and ast me foh a drink uv wateh. He said he wu? 
 so hungry he doan* know wheah he s goana sleep to-night 
 That crazy niggah! He done said he allowed he d \val-* 
 to Lima, and ef a train come a-tootin* it d stop foh him. 
 for his brothah was a poatah. He done tried to tell me 
 that New Ohleans was in Alabamy, when any niggah kiu 
 knows it s in Geoghia," and her fat sides shook with 
 laughter. 
 
 The family smiled. 
 
 Mrs. Emory was the remnant of a once beautiful 
 woman the pale gleam of a lightning flash upon i 
 burned-out volcano. Her hm r been strong, 
 
 but still, she had survived her robust husband. 
 
 Presently Aunt Nancy said. "Good night, Mrs. Emory, 
 and Ruth and you, Mistah Boy," and stepped heavily 
 up to bed. 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 125 
 
 After the late meal Ruth sat upon the porch with 
 Emmett. "You mentioned the Faith Healer to me once, 
 Emmett, please tell me more about him?" she asked. 
 
 Then in the hush of the summer night Emmett told 
 the girl the story of the Healer. "What a wonderful 
 man he must have been," said Ruth. "I never thought 
 such a man lived outside of a book." 
 
 When Emmett arose to go Ruth said, "You must stay 
 with us to-night, Emmett. I ll show you the nicest bed 
 room. Slim Eddie has your bed, you know." 
 
 Between wonder and peace, Emmett was soon in the 
 arms of a dream. 
 
 At the breakfast table the next morning Ruth said, "I 
 had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt I had the 
 sea in a glass bowl on the table of the living room. 1 
 saw sea monsters fight with whales and sword fishes. 
 Big whales would splash the water out on the rug with 
 their tails, and Aunt Nancy would scold, and I saw a 
 lot of snakes with fishes tails, and fish with wings like 
 eagles fly over the water. I saw a lion swimming with 
 a hide with scales on it, and it started to bite me, then 
 I woke up and it was morning, and I was glad." 
 
 When the story of the strange dream was finished a 
 knock was heard at the door, and Slim Eddie smiled 
 crookedly at Aunt Nancy as she opened it. Slim wanted 
 to see Mrs. Emory, or Ruth, in order to get a dollar. 
 Mrs. Emory gave it to him, and Ruth poured him a drink 
 of bourbon. It revived Slim so much that he became 
 talkative, and when the second drink was brought from 
 the sideboard he asked, "Did anybody ever hear about 
 
126 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 the mouse the cat chased? Well, one time a cat just 
 chased the dickens out of a mouse, and had it worried 
 sick. Then one day the mouse come across some red-eye 
 that d been spilled in a saucer. It drank the whisky, then 
 it straightened up and looked all around and said, Now ! 
 where the devil s that cat ! " Leaving the family smil 
 ing, the rough old sailor on the shore of eternity went 
 walking toward Coffee s saloon on Spring Street. 
 
 Ruth s mother encouraged her to bring all the sunshine 
 possible into Emmett s life. The stable roustabout was 
 unaware that the girl and her mother had talked many 
 times about his welfare. His work now became a pastime 
 since Ruth had become his friend. As it was the doctor s 
 orders to keep Ruth in the open air, long drives were 
 made about the country. 
 
 She ordered two suits of clothes for Emmett, and she 
 also taught him that instinctive blending of colors which 
 was hers, and which seems to have been born with some 
 women, and very few men. She showed him how to 
 pick scarfs to match shirts, and the lad who had worn 
 the rainbow tie to St. Marys was now dressed differently, 
 until even he had a hard time recalling the youngster in 
 the red hat who had run away from Soaroffs. 
 
 Emmett was invited to the Emory home a month after 
 the drive to the Forty Acre Pond. Ruth told him that 
 she and her mother were to live in Lima that winter, and 
 were moving in two weeks. Aunt Nancy was a-flutter 
 with excitement already. 
 
 "We need a boy like you about the house, Emmett," 
 
A COUNTRY DRIVE 127 
 
 said Mrs. Emory. "You ll not have to work hard, and 
 there are many things that Ruth wishes to teach you. 
 My daughter thinks you are a promising boy." 
 
 The boy helped Aunt Nancy and Ruth pack, and in two 
 weeks they were in Lima. 
 
LIMA 
 
 THERE is a picturesque atmosphere about Lima which 
 sets it apart from all other cities in Ohio. It is the largest 
 place within a radius of sixty miles in a thickly popu 
 lated section. Columbus, Toledo and Dayton lie in dif 
 ferent directions from it like the three out-stretched fin 
 gers of a man s hand. Many railroads cross here. At 
 the time of this story the interurban cars were just be 
 ginning to travel in all directions over the state, and 
 Lima was the hub in the wheel from which the steel 
 spokes projected. 
 
 Day and night there was a conflux of people in Lima 
 brought about by the converging of so many roads, which 
 gave it a cosmopolitan air not attained by cities very 
 much larger. 
 
 Life was lived intensely in Lima, and many of its char 
 acters that Emmett met were men and women grown 
 wearily wise and tired in the whirl of greater cities, who 
 came to the smaller city to pursue the uneven tenor of 
 their way ; where they could enjoy city life in a measure 
 and still be within the sight of country meadows. 
 
 July, August, September and October had marched 
 down the road of time. November came and found Ruth, 
 Emmett, Aunt Nancy and Mrs. Emory in a comfortable 
 home within walking distance of the business section. 
 
 128 
 
LIMA 129 
 
 Ruth was well known in Lima, and girls who had been 
 to Oberlin called upon her frequently. As a hostess she 
 had the grace of the Italian and the warm generosity 
 and wit of the Irish. Poise and charm were her twin 
 sisters. Her smile was so warm that it would thaw the 
 coldest nature, and it sprang from a heart that had room 
 in it for Slim Eddie and Emmett along with more highly 
 cultured people. 
 
 There were some days in which she was lost in revery, 
 and once, when she was quite ill for three days, Emmett 
 remained with her part of the time. She carried much 
 of her life locked within her, a trait which many strong 
 people possess. 
 
 Her head was pressed in the soft white pillow, and her 
 dark hair contrasted vividly with it. 
 
 "Emmett," she said, "I heard those terrible noises last 
 night. My head just roared with them. Lawn mowers 
 sound terrible in one s head." 
 
 The happy weeks merged into months, and Christmas 
 came to Ohio in a whirl of blinding snow. It rested 
 on the trolley wires and the branches of trees. The 
 limbs creaked in the wind as though suffering from the 
 weight of the snow. It fell, flake after flake, silently, 
 steadily, monotonously. It blotted out footsteps a mo 
 ment after they were made. 
 
 A clinging, wet snow, it clung to perpendicular objects 
 as a fly clings to a wall. Telegraph poles, trees, every 
 thing, took on a fantastic garb of white. People moved 
 about the streets with hearts seemingly as light as the 
 flakes that fell. The Christmas sun crossed the sky 
 
130 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 without having been seen by an Ohio mortal that day. 
 
 Ruth was happy this Christmas day, for the pleasure 
 of making others happy had made her intoxicated as with 
 a rare wine. 
 
 "Many people celebrate the day upon which Christ was 
 born," said Ruth, "but few ever think of the day upon 
 which he died." 
 
 The red cars carried Uncle John and Aunt Maggie 
 Donovan to the Emory home for the Holidays. Emmett 
 took Uncle John to a saloon, where he drank a trifle too 
 much. Aunt Maggie was horrified. Not because Uncle 
 John became tipsy, but because she had always felt proud 
 of his ability to stand up under a vast amount of liquor. 
 
 "Indade, John Donovan, your brain s gettin soft, when 
 a little licker befuddles you like that. Shame on ye !" 
 
 During the weeks preceding Christmas Ruth often 
 walked with Emmett to the Lima Public Library. She 
 took keen delight in helping him find many of its treas 
 ures. It was the first time in the boy s life that he had 
 ever been face to face with the wisdom of the ages. 
 That which he had craved through all his young years 
 was in abundance on the shelves. His duties were light 
 at the Emory home, and he spent all the time possible 
 among the books. 
 
A ROSE FADES 
 
 RUTH S cheeks became tinged with red as the spring ad 
 vanced. It enhanced her beauty and proved a danger 
 signal to her mother. She faded as a rose fades at the 
 touch of early autumn. 
 
 Aunt Maggie came from St. Marys and said to Ruth s 
 mother, "The dear girl will bloom again with the flowers 
 in May." Dr. Roble came with Aunt Maggie from St. 
 Marys, and Emmett wondered what he thought were 
 Ruth s chances of blooming with the flowers. 
 
 The weeks crawled through Emmett s brain as slowly 
 as the mud turtles across the road near the Forty Acre 
 Pond. 
 
 Ruth called Aunt Maggie and said, "Auntie, dear, give 
 Emmett this letter if anything should happen to me." 
 
 April came, and passed, and the flowers bloomed in 
 the meadows. The Emory household was unaware of 
 flowers in meadows, for the flower of their lives was 
 dying. 
 
 Ruth s mother and Aunt Maggie were worn out with 
 the weeks of grief that passed like years. They, and the 
 nurse slept, a brief hour. Aunt Nancy and Emmett 
 stayed in the room with Ruth, who was sleeping peace 
 fully. Emmett noticed the red spots in her cheeks re 
 turn, and thought it meant new life for Ruth. It did, 
 perhaps, but not in this world. 
 
 131 
 
132 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 The house was very quiet, and Aunt Nancy nodded in 
 her chair. 
 
 A solitary fly began to buzz in the room. It filled it 
 with a weird loneliness that rang through Emmett s soul. 
 Suddenly the fly became still and Ruth heard the voice 
 of Michael Emory. She gave a long sigh and that was 
 all Ruth Emory was dead. 
 
 Emmett walked to the bed and grasped her hand. In 
 stinctively, he knew. "Ruth," he moaned, "don t go 
 away. Talk to me." His words awoke Aunt Nancy, and 
 the faithful woman s body quivered when she realized 
 that Death had taken Ruth while she slept. The nurse 
 returned, became alarmed, and brought Mrs. Emory and 
 Aunt Maggie to the room. 
 
 For ten years Mrs. Emory had expected this blow but 
 was now unprepared for it when it came. She stood 
 dazed, as if turned to stone, gazing at the bed, then 
 collapsed. 
 
 Recovering she moaned incoherently. She could 
 frame no words. 
 
 Mrs. Emory and Aunt Nancy went to the Donovan 
 home. When all was over Aunt Maggie gave Emmett 
 the letter from the dead. It read : 
 
 Dear Emmett: 
 
 I am so awful, awful sorry I must die, but I know I must go. 
 One thing is sure, Emmett death only happens once. Try hard 
 to go on for I have faith in you. I am leaving you seventy 
 dollars and some of my jewelry. Aunt Maggie will give you this 
 when the lawn mower has stopped mowing in my head forever. 
 
 RUTH. 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 
 
 EMMETT drowned his young brain with whisky until it 
 responded neither to the feeling of hope nor despair. The 
 money which Ruth had given soon melted away. Her 
 diamonds and pearls became the property of a fat pawn 
 broker. 
 
 A wire to St. Marys brought Slim Eddie to Lima, and 
 the old man, long broken on the wheel of life, was a 
 solace and comfort to Emmett. 
 
 "Ay," said old Eddie, "God never made a snowflake 
 whiter n her. I never knew another like her," and then 
 the bleared old wastrel looked at the floor, with a whisky 
 glass in his hand. 
 
 "She was always good to you, wasn t she, Slim?" asked 
 the boy. 
 
 "Indeed she was," answered Eddie, "my own daughter, 
 if I had one, couldn t a been better." The shaking, 
 withered hand poured the whisky down the shriveled 
 throat. "She used to cry when I d tell her about the 
 pen," he added. 
 
 "Was that experience tough?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "Say, Boy! Had you done nine or ten years there in 
 the Ohio Pen in those days, well, if it didn t kill you, 
 poison wouldn t." 
 
 "What was it like?" asked Emmett. 
 
 133 
 
134 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "You can t tell nobody what it s like. You gotta feel 
 hell to know how hot it is." 
 
 "Was it as bad as that ?" 
 
 "Worse than that/ replied the withered wreck. 
 
 Old jail-bird and youthful dreamer hung about the 
 saloons of Lima until three weeks had gone by. 
 
 No vestige of hope appeared for the boy, no glint of 
 determination with which to meet the years ahead. He 
 would barely eat enough to sustain his body, and during 
 the few hours when the saloons were closed, he had the 
 inevitable bottle with him. Finally Slim Eddie said: 
 
 "Say, Kid! If you don t brace up you ll be where 
 Ruth is." 
 
 "If I knew for sure she was some place, I d sure as hell 
 be there," was the rep-ly which disturbed Eddie. 
 
 "Forget that, Kid! People only bump emselves off 
 when they re sick in the head." 
 
 "Well, I m not well in my head by a damn sight, 
 Eddie." 
 
 "No! But if you bump yourself off and Ruth meets 
 you over there, after she told you to stay here and be 
 somethin , she ll be sore. Just suppose she is some place, 
 she d be proud to tell the other dames that she helped 
 you down here. Maybe she knows everythin we do 
 here." 
 
 "Rave on," returned Emmett. 
 
 "There you go, wise guy, full o booze now. You 
 can t prove nothin neither way. It s like goin in a big 
 house to sleep, where they don t let you back out. But 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 135 
 
 you go in there all right. Now maybe they re just raisin 
 the devil in there, you don t know." 
 
 "You know yourself, Slim, that you told me that the 
 only reason you didn t bump yourself off in the pen was 
 because you didn t get the chance." 
 
 "I know! But I m glad I didn t now. There s lots 
 of white people in the world. Why, they say once in a 
 while you find a preacher who s a real guy! You kick 
 a guy and he kicks you back, darn near every time. Life 
 ain t no golden rule, that s bunk ; it s a fight, and a damn , 
 hard one." 
 
 "Well, come on, Slim, come with me to the water tank, 
 where the freights stop. I ll get out of here, and you 
 beat it back to St. Marys." 
 
 "Have you got any money left? You ll need a bracer 
 to-morrow, you know." 
 
 "Yes, I have four dollars left; here s two," said 
 Emmett. 
 
 "No; one buck ll do, that ll get me to old slow town. 
 I kin allus eat there, you ll need it more n me," said Slim. 
 
 When they arrived at the water tank they found a 
 young and a middle-aged rover already there. The 
 younger man was reading a yellow magazine more 
 frayed than himself. The older man sat on a railroad 
 tie a few feet from the reader and whittled slowly at a 
 stick of wood. 
 
 There are hobos of many varieties. There are but very 
 few who do not measure higher in intellect than the aver- 
 
136 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 age plodding laborer. A hobo with a vigorous mind and 
 a splendid education is not infrequently met up with. 
 Where they may have obtained it they seldom say, for, 
 as men go down the hill of life, they talk less about them 
 selves. 
 
 The young tramps are often adventurers frothing over 
 with life. They are not all fools by any means, and in 
 cluded among their number at one time or another, are 
 the names of Jack London, Maxim Gorky, John Mase- 
 field, Josiah Flynt, and many others, who, perhaps, with 
 false pride would not wish their names included here. 
 
 Time changes customs. Goldsmith begging at con 
 vents, Rousseau in his early wanderings, were tramps. 
 There were dark places in Goldsmith s life upon which 
 the light was never thrown. Is it possible that the kind 
 est of men was ashamed of having lived? 
 
 There is alive to-day an English poet, not the brilliant 
 Christ-suffering Masefield, but Davies, a poet of quality, 
 nevertheless, who lost a limb beneath a train, while tramp 
 ing in the American fashion. 
 
 In no country in the world has tramping reached the 
 art that it has in America. The young American hobo 
 in sheer capacity for suffering and endurance, daring, 
 and deviltry, shows qualities every day that are worthy 
 of a higher cause. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen on the softer cushions of life if 
 you wonder at this statement have some of your young 
 men ride a mail train through the night, and cling to iron 
 ladders or slanting roofs of cars as it crashes along the 
 rails. Have them ride through mile-long tunnels and 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 137 
 
 hold their breath till suffocation almost ensues. They 
 may learn nothing else, but endurance, which in itself is 
 valuable. 
 
 These lines are not written to justify tramping, nor 
 young tramps, but with the hope that environmental 
 forces will some day be put in operation to guard against 
 such splendid material going to waste. 
 
 The young tramp must have initiative and originality. 
 He must be self-reliant, and wage war with the organized 
 system that would exterminate him with force, instead of 
 leading him to the light with kindness. 
 
 A brilliant writer once said that he had tramped across 
 America for sociological purposes, when he was young. 
 Emmett smiled when he read that. Tramps under twenty 
 have no sociological ideas in view. Emmett had a vague 
 feeling that some day he might try to write something 
 about tramping, as no man in America has ever written 
 such a book that he felt was true. Josiah Flynt filled a 
 few books with gross exaggerations and sad insight into 
 tramp psychology, but he had not the gift of words, nor 
 the eyes to read deep into the souls of men. Jack Lon 
 don may have written the epic of tramping, but he pre 
 ferred to use his wondrous brain in other fields of litera 
 ture. Let this fact be remembered, as all keen people 
 know, environment makes tramps, and a tramping trip 
 across America is the epitome of tramp life. The tramp 
 who has been from "coast to coast" belongs to the higher 
 circles. 
 
 The term "tramping" as used in this book means rid 
 ing on fast mail, or freight trains, for the modern young 
 
138 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 American tramp will not walk unless driven to it by the 
 most unyielding of desperate circumstances. But to re 
 turn to the men at the water tank ! 
 
 The man with the stick of wood looked up at Emmett 
 and Slim and said, "Which way, Boes?" 
 
 "No way at all for me," replied Slim, "but the kid 
 here s goin toward Cincy." 
 
 "That so," said the whittler, "I go as far s Dayton, 
 and my mate here goes on to Cincy if a train ever 
 comes," he added wearily. 
 
 The reader of the magazine looked up. His appear 
 ance was bedraggled. He was a blond type, and weak 
 blond whiskers were attempting to grow upon his face. 
 He was an effeminate boy of Emmett s years, or older, 
 and the life of the road had broken him. His face and 
 hair were streaked with coal dust and his clothes were 
 ragged. He reminded Emmett of a picture he had seen 
 of a light-haired boy picking daisies in a field. But it 
 had apparently been a long time, if ever, since this boy 
 had plucked the petals of daisies. He looked like a 
 white lamb that had slept in a coal yard. 
 
 Emmett s tailored suit looked sadly out of place now, 
 and the bedraggled youth looked at it with envy. 
 
 "Lord, I got to git a front one of these days," he said. 
 "I ain t had a suit in a coon s age." 
 
 Slim Eddie caught the look in the boy s eyes and called 
 Emmett aside. "Allus watch yure clothes, Kid," he said. 
 "Some o 1 these tramps ud steal yure eyebrows while you 
 sleep." 
 
 They waited for hours, anq! no freight train came. 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 139 
 
 The youth had finished his magazine and had wearily 
 thrown it down. The middle-aged man proved to be 
 merely an itinerant bricklayer who hoboed about Ohio 
 from year to year. 
 
 His two principal worries in life seemed to be that of 
 getting work for a few weeks at a time, and getting drunk 
 when the work was over. He had just ended a debauch, 
 or to speak more correctly, his lack of funds had ended 
 it for him. Women were not of his world, for, like 
 Slim Eddie, he thrilled under the caresses of John 
 Barleycorn. 
 
 Slim and Emmett had a pint of whisky each with them. 
 The ever-generous Slim bade Emmett save his pint, while 
 he offered the thirst devoured bricklayer his bottle to 
 drink from. His lips closed about the neck of the bot 
 tle in a lingering embrace. 
 
 Old Slim could have witnessed an earthquake without 
 a tremor, but he watched his red fluid descending to the 
 depths below, as an alchemist would watch his last sup 
 ply of liquid gold being poured into the sea. 
 
 "Brother," said he, "have mercy. I don t get that out 
 of a well." 
 
 "Ha, ha," laughed the bricklayer, as he stopped to 
 breathe, "I d drown in the well if you did." Slim took 
 the bottle which contained a small drink for himself and 
 Emmett. 
 
 "You hate licker, don t you," said Slim sarcastically to 
 the bricklayer. 
 
 "Yep, I don t like to look at it I close my eyes and 
 drink her down." Old Slim looked at the empty bottle 
 
140 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 and threw it under the tank in an injured manner, like 
 a baby from whom some one had taken candy. 
 
 A freight finally came the last hour before sunset. 
 The engine stopped for water at the tank, and started 
 onward. 
 
 Into old Slim s faded eyes a slight mist came. Emmett 
 really loved the old fellow in the same unselfish manner 
 that Ruth had loved him. Ruth s face flashed before him 
 for a brief moment, but the cars were rolling swiftly by. 
 
 "Good-by, old Lover, and for God s sake, don t spend 
 that dollar for booze and walk to St. Marys/ said 
 Emmett, above the noise of the rolling train. 
 
 "I won t," answered old Slim, "honest to God I won t." 
 
 The two storm-tossed wayfarers passed out of each 
 other s lives. 
 
 All three rovers climbed into an empty coal car. 
 Bricklayer and youth seated themselves, while Emmett 
 stood, to protect his suit. 
 
 The bricklayer unfolded a newspaper he had in his 
 pocket, and placing it on the floor beside him, he mo 
 tioned to Emmett to sit down. 
 
 They sat, with the pint bottle between them. The 
 bricklayer was not so greedy by this time, as he seemed 
 to wish to prolong the sensation produced by the liquid 
 until his journey s end. 
 
 Before the sun went down the conductor walked across 
 the train and into the open gondola. He was a big man, 
 with big teeth, the two biggest of which did not meet in 
 the center of his mouth. He wore red whiskers, and no 
 mustache. 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 141, 
 
 "Where you fellows goin ?" asked he. The usual an 
 swers were given. "What you ridin on?" was the next 
 question. The bricklayer pulled out his Union Member 
 ship card. The conductor looked at it, and said, "That 
 won t do ; you ll all have to unload at the next stop." 
 
 "You don t believe in brotherhood then, and you be 
 long to the Brotherhood of Trainmen. Ain t I a work- 
 ingman, the same as you ?" 
 
 "That may be all right," was the rejoinder, "but that s 
 no sign I should haul you on my train." 
 
 "Your train ! Why, you don t own this train any more 
 than I own the bricks I put in a building." The con 
 ductor looked at him quizzically, but gave no direct reply. 
 The bricklayer went on, "We are all three down and out, 
 all on the bum, and you want to make us walk. What s 
 the idea ? Will you sleep better at the end of the run if 
 you ditch us ?" 
 
 "No! But it s my duty." 
 
 "Your duty, hell !" said the bricklayer, in a tone which 
 denoted that he might have a streak of iron beneath a 
 dissipated exterior. "Why don t you go back to your 
 caboose like a regular guy and forget there s three tramps 
 on your train." The bricklayer smiled, the conductor 
 wrinkled his forehead, while the two youths looked on in 
 amazement at the daring of the bricklayer. 
 
 "All right, I ll do that little thing," said the conduc 
 tor. "Keep quiet, though, goin through the towns." He 
 climbed out of the car, and upon the next box car, and 
 was seen no more by the three that night. 
 
 Night settled down and the stars came out, and from 
 
142 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 the bumping car they quivered like silver fishes in the 
 blue waters of the heavens. Emmett led the bricklayer 
 into a conversation about them. 
 
 "Makes a fellow forget bein broke and out of licker," 
 said the bricklayer, as he looked above. 
 
 Near midnight the engine whistled upon entering the 
 railroad yards at Dayton. "Well, here s where I leave 
 you fellows," said the bricklayer. "So long, lay low in 
 Hamilton," he added, as he left the train. 
 
 The next morning the two youths washed their faces 
 in a saloon, and went to the business center of Cincin 
 nati on a street car. 
 
 Emmett was sick from the long debauch, and was un 
 able to eat breakfast. A bartender cracked two eggs 
 for him and placed their contents in whisky. 
 
 "On the road?" asked the bartender. "Yes," replied 
 Emmett. "Come here, then," he said to Emmett. When 
 the boy walked to the end of the bar, out of the hear 
 ing of his comrade, the bartender said to him, "Listen, 
 kid, Fve been on the road myself. The bulls ll pinch 
 you as a vag sure if you hang around with that kid up 
 there. They may slip you two months in the works for 
 vagrancy in this town. The judge is a mean devil." 
 
 Two months in a workhouse was not a pleasing pros 
 pect for Emmett and he debated the matter over in his 
 mind. 
 
 "I ll go it alone as soon as I can," said Emmett. 
 
 "Take an old head s tip and do that," replied the bar- 
 lender, and as an afterthought, he added, "Always keep 
 clean on the road, kid, and then they don t spot you so 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 143 
 
 easy. You know, it s every guy for himself on the road." 
 Within twenty-four hours, Slim and the bartender had 
 told Emmett some things which in thousands of miles of 
 tramping, he never forgot. 
 
 As the youths started to leave the saloon, the bartender 
 called Emmett back and handed him an old prayer-book. 
 "Keep this on you, kid, it s a good stall. A lot of these 
 dicks are Irish, and if they search you and find this oa 
 you, they ll think you are all right." The boy placed the 
 book in his coat pocket and thanked the bartender. "You 
 can always tell detectives," said the bartender, "they 
 travel in pairs, and are big men, like policemen, in street 
 clothes. Some of them, are not bad guys, and are lookin* 
 for bigger game than a kid that s down and out. Bet 
 ter play safe though, you never can tell." The other lad 
 stood near the door. "Have a shot before you go," said 
 the good fellow, as he placed a whisky bottle on the bar. 
 Emmett drank the liquid, while the other youth walked 
 to the bar and drank a bottle of pop. With a warm 
 feeling in his heart for the bartender, Emmett left the 
 saloon with the fellow traveler. 
 
 They walked to Fountain Square and seated them 
 selves near the fountain, where the babbling water took 
 Emmett back to Blue Creek, near the Faith Healer s 
 home, where he and Efrie had spent happy hours together. 
 
 The boy sat there, oblivious to clanging trolley cars, 
 and people hurrying to and fro. Like the wasps that 
 wound the caterpillar, and paralyzes it, memory now 
 stung him until he was momentarily stunned and help 
 less. Efrie and Ivy splashed their hands in the water 
 
144 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 near him. He kissed Ivy again as on that long ago morn 
 ing. He beheld Effie again in the Soaroff lane. Even 
 the mist shrouded Solomon Soaroff in a haze of kindness. 
 
 Then old Sarah and the Faith Healer walked slowly 
 down the road of memory. 
 
 "Good Lord," said the boy, as he buried his head in 
 his hands, to hide the tears in his eyes, "have mercy!" 
 
 Just then, two stalwart men passed the silent boys. 
 Emmett s heart sank within him. 
 
 "Where ye lads from?" asked one of the men. Em- 
 mett wiped his eyes, and stood up and told his story. He 
 told it with a quiet passion that surged within him. The 
 men searched him and found the prayer-book, which 
 one of them held in his hand. Ruth s crumpled letter 
 was taken out of his coat pocket. The detective read it, 
 as though it were addressed to him, and it pleaded Em 
 mett s cause even more than the prayer-book. Without a 
 word he shoved the page under the other man s eyes, as 
 he looked closely at Emmett. "Who was this girl ?" asked 
 he. 
 
 "She was my friend," said Emmett, "and she s dead 
 now." 
 
 "I see she is," said the man of the law. "Some letter 
 she wrote," said he, as the other man handed it back to 
 him. "You ought to be proud of that letter," said the 
 other detective. 
 
 "I am," meekly replied the boy, as it was returned to 
 Jiim, along with the book. They bade the other boy 
 stand still, while they took Emmett aside. 
 
THE ROAD LEADS ON 145 
 
 " Where d you pick this other kid up ?" one man asked. 
 
 "In Lima," answered Emmett. 
 
 "Listen, me boy," said one of the men, "we don t think 
 yure a bad lad, or we d take ye along with us. But beat 
 it, before some other dick picks ye up. We ll take the 
 other lad with us. And listen me boy. Hold onto that 
 book. On with ye, and good luck." 
 
 Emmett looked back when some distance away, and 
 saw his erstwhile comrade walking in another direction 
 with the two men. This experience made him nervous 
 for the remainder of the day. 
 
MILES AWAY 
 
 IN three days Emmett awoke in the railroad yards of St. 
 Louis. A newspaper which he had spread upon the box 
 car floor in order to protect his clothes, was torn by his 
 restless body, in several places. 
 
 It was early morning when he climbed out of the car, 
 and he was penniless and hungry. It usually requires time 
 for even the most daring rover to acquire the art of beg 
 ging, and Emmett was full of the pride of his mother. 
 
 Years later, when hunger had been driven from him, 
 he always found time to listen to the young beggar on the 
 street. For many a brilliant man has been a young beg 
 gar. Like another O. Henry, whom the past had touched 
 with pity, it gave him pleasure to watch a beggar eat. 
 And never has Emmett forgotten the experience of this 
 morning in St. Louis. 
 
 Engines whistled in the yards, switchmen jumped on 
 and off flying cars that crashed together with deafening 
 noise. The tops of the numerous rails glistened in the sun 
 like gray streaks of light against a darker background. 
 
 And over all this was the fear of railroad detectives. 
 
 He made his way to the street, and walked several miles 
 toward the heart of St. Louis. Hunger gnawed until his 
 stomach ached. As he walked along the hot street, with 
 the burning sun overhead, he thought of the Spartan youth 
 
 146 
 
MILES AWAY 147 
 
 of old, who had concealed the fox, and rather than give 
 up, had allowed it to tear his body. 
 
 Something must be done, hunger must be appeased. It 
 was hard to beg. During the weeks of drinking he did 
 not crave food, and had weakened himself thereby. He 
 had lived on little more than a dollar for three days. The 
 tattered youth whom the detectives had taken away had 
 been given a dollar by Emmett. 
 
 He passed a restaurant of the poorer grade. It had a 
 sign in the front window which read, "Dishwasher 
 wanted." Emmett walked inside. A stout woman worked 
 behind the counter. "We have just hired a dishwasher/ 
 she said, when Emmett finished talking. Then apparently 
 noticing the woebegone look on the boy s face as he tried 
 to summon courage to ask for something to eat, she said, 
 "Have you had breakfast yet?" 
 
 "No," answered the boy, "and I m weak from hunger/ 
 
 As with all deeply emotional natures, kind words played 
 upon Emmett s soul, in the midst of mental strain, and 
 brought tears quickly. The kind manner in which the 
 woman had asked the question made him cry like a little 
 girl over a broken doll. 
 
 "Well, I ll declare," said the good woman, as she hur 
 ried to the kitchen. Returning, she said to Emmett, 
 "Now you sit up here at the counter, and eat all you want," 
 as she busied herself setting a place for him. 
 
 "I must take that sign out of the window," she said, 
 "but I m glad you saw it anyhow," and she suited the 
 action to the word. 
 
 When Emmett left the restaurant he thanked the 
 
I 4 8 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 woman, who was as pleased as if she had been hungry 
 and Emmett had given her to eat. The boy was a differ 
 ent person. Courage again took lodging in his heart. As 
 he walked along the street he thought of the story Slim 
 Eddie used to tell about the mouse, and he smiled 
 faintly. 
 
 Life had a rosy tinge for him as he found the railroad 
 yards out of which trains ran toward Chicago. He loit 
 ered near a spot where he had a choice of boarding trains 
 bound for the Illinois city, on four different railroads. 
 Toward night, he boarded a freight train of the first class, 
 which was carrying live stock. 
 
 The art of boarding fast moving trains is learned by 
 long practice, and even then a certain daring, combined 
 with quick thinking, is required. 
 
 Emmett ran toward the speeding train, which luck, and 
 a strong negro, helped him to board. 
 
 Two negroes and one white tramp were between the 
 cars where Emmett stood. "Allus want to run wif de 
 train, an doan nevah grab on, les yu suah of holdin on, 
 cause if yu evah lets go, she may thruw yu undeh," said 
 the negro, whose strong arm had reached out and helped 
 the boy aboard. 
 
 The four vagrants talked and made themselves heard 
 above the roar of the speeding train. Every now and then 
 a steer would bellow in the car ahead of them, as though 
 lonesome for the green fields from which it was jour 
 neying to its doom. 
 
 Conversation disclosed the fact that the negroes were 
 bound for Godfrey, a junction point, which was then the 
 
MILES AWAY 149 
 
 terror of the hobo, on account of the vigilance of railroad 
 detectives. 
 
 "It suah is a hostile town," said one negro. 
 
 The word "hostile" in the vernacular of the road indi 
 cates strict police and railroad vigilance. Many tramps 
 avoid such towns, or travel through them under cover 
 of darkness when possible. 
 
 "We all goin to stop at Godfrey and go tu work. Lots 
 of cullud fellahs from daown south theah now. Yu white 
 boys bettah stop, yu kin git yu suppah theah." 
 
 When the engine whistled for the yards, all four rovers 
 alighted from the train. 
 
 They walked slowly and cautiously along the edge of 
 the yards until they saw lights in box-cars along a rail 
 road siding. 
 
 The echo of stringed instruments floated toward them 
 as they walked to the cars. When they drew near they 
 saw men at work clearing the dishes from tables where 
 the evening meal had been. Making known their wants 
 to the cook, all four rovers were invited into the rude 
 dining car, where waiters vied with one another in secur 
 ing them all they could eat. 
 
 After the meal the four walked outside where at least 
 forty colored men sat about in the gathering night and 
 listened to their fellow workers sing as they played their 
 banjos and fiddles. A. three-quarter moon was beginning 
 to shine. The green and red lights of the caboose belong 
 ing to the cattle train were fading down the track in the 
 direction of Chicago. 
 
 Flying dark clouds flitted across the face of the moon, 
 
150 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 and at such times the earth was almost flooded with com 
 plete darkness. The moon would peer from behind the 
 clouds and the earth would take on the appearance of a 
 dark room suddenly flooded with light. Rain was in the 
 air, and the atmosphere had a murky heaviness. Katy 
 dids and crickets, and sometimes frogs were making noises 
 in unison as if jealous of the music and singing of the 
 carefree dark children gifted with the magic of song. 
 
 If the souls of the living ever return to earthly scenes, 
 surely the spirit of Stephen Collins Foster must have 
 hovered near on this night. 
 
 As the men sang "Old Black Joe" an elderly darky 
 limped in front of them, and with hand on hip and the 
 other at his ear, as though listening to voices calling, he 
 remained quiet until the others stopped and then sang in 
 a voice of rare quality, 
 
 Tse a comin , I se a comin ; 
 Though my head am bendin* low, 
 I hear dem gentle voices callin/ 
 Ol Black Joe." 
 
 They next sang, "My Old Kentucky Home," and as if to 
 get the full force of the line they would all stop but 
 the one singer, who sang 
 
 "The day goes by like a shadow o er the heart," 
 Then they all joined, 
 
 "With sorrow, where all was delight, 
 The time has come when the darkies have to part, 
 Then my old Kentucky home, Good-night." 
 
MILES AWAY 151 
 
 The man who had impersonated Old Black Joe walked up 
 and down in front of his fellow workers, with head and 
 back bent low, while all sang with him in splendid har 
 mony, 
 
 "The head must bow and the back will have to bend, 
 .Wherever the darky may go, 
 A few more days and the trouble all will end, 
 In the field where the cotton blossoms grow." 
 
 Then louder and deeper, 
 
 "A few more days for to tote the weary load, 
 No matter, twill never be light, 
 A few more days till we totter down the road, 
 Then my old Kentucky home, Good-night." 
 
 Emmett sat under the moonlight and recalled the even 
 ing when his picking at Ruth s piano had caused her later 
 to make it vibrate with the melody of Chopin. 
 
 He was drifting to the land of revery when a man 
 touched his shoulder and said, "Jist sit still, Bo, an* look 
 at dem two dicks oveh theah." The men listened for a 
 few minutes and then walked down the track, little realiz 
 ing that vagrants lurked so near. 
 
 A headlight could be seen miles in the direction of St. 
 Louis, and then by and by the whistle of the approaching 
 locomotive echoed through the night. "If you kin make 
 that train, Bo, she ll git yu into Chi in the mornin ," 
 said the cheery cook. 
 
 The great engine came down the track like a 
 mighty specter from the land of dream. Its headlight 
 streamed far ahead of it, in the manner of a pillar 
 
152 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of light traveling over the ground by its own volition. 
 
 The water tank was a half train length ahead of the 
 singing negroes. When the engine stopped for water the 
 two youths walked toward the motionless train. The 
 negroes wished them good luck under their breath, and 
 as the lads made for the train they made all the musical 
 noise possible, with the hopes of diverting the minds of 
 trainmen and detectives. As the train started they climbed 
 between two cars of which the end door of one was partly 
 open. Emmett hastily drew it back and climbed inside, 
 while the other rover followed him. Shutting the door 
 and fastening it from the inside, they drew deep breaths 
 over their apparent good luck. By the light of the match 
 they discovered that the car was half loaded with baled 
 hay. Two other tramps were stretched out in the car in 
 peaceful slumber. They, too, were soon forgetful of 
 the cares of vagabond life, and slept as laborers sleep at 
 the end of a long day s work. 
 
 When morning streaked its rays of light through the 
 cracks of the car, the four vagabonds talked in friendly 
 manner over the events of the road. Tramps constantly 
 meet and part, and always do they exchange gossip. 
 They have a vocabulary of their own, and it may be said 
 a rough code of ethics also. 
 
 As the reader will follow Emmett through many miles 
 of tramping it may not come amiss to give a few of the 
 general terms used in this strange world which few 
 people ever enter. 
 
 A "local stiff" is a man who tramps but a short distance 
 from home. The term "yegg" hardly needs explanation, 
 
MILES AWAY 153 
 
 as it has passed into the language. Nevertheless a yegg is 
 a blower of safes who specializes on small post offices and 
 stores, and sometimes banks. Only when completely 
 down on his luck does he associate with his less crafty, 
 or more honest, or less courageous brothers, as the case 
 may be. 
 
 The "bindle stiff" is a tramp who seldom rides, and 
 then only the slowest trains, but is contented usually to 
 walk from town to town. A "gay-cat" is the term used 
 for a boy tramp. A "fly-by-night" is the more daring 
 young tramp who seldom rides anything but fast mail 
 or passenger trains. It was into this class that Emmett 
 later drifted. The older tramps seldom ride the fast 
 trains, as it is far too daring and death-defying for them. 
 
 "Bulls," "dicks" and "John Laws" are the railroad 
 and town police with whom the tramps are constantly at 
 war. The "con" is the conductor of the train, the "brakie" 
 is the brakeman. "Hitting the stem" means begging 
 money on the street. "Hitting the back door" means 
 begging at kitchen doors. A "sit down" means a meal 
 at which the tramp is seated. A "handout" means a 
 lunch wrapped in paper. There are many other terms 
 and symbols too long to record here. 
 
 Tramps have a strong code of honor when it conies to 
 standing by each other in a battle with officers of the 
 law. Many cases are on record in individual experiences 
 where they fought to the death for their kind. 
 
 The most admirable quality which Emmett discovered 
 they possessed was their habit of religiously cleaning up 
 a camp after they had used it. All cooking utensils are 
 
154 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 left in excellent order. This is a law and is adhered to 
 strictly. 
 
 Young tramps make excellent soldiers, their resource 
 fulness standing them in good stead, as the Spanish- Amer 
 ican war abundantly proved. The army has brought about 
 the complete regeneration of many of them, by giving 
 them a healthier outlook, and a discipline of life of which 
 they were in sore need. 
 
 But again, we must take up the story of the four tour 
 ists in the car. 
 
 The train stood still for a long time, and there was no 
 way by which they could tell where they were. After 
 much longer waiting they decided to take a chance and 
 find out their location along the road. So their lack of 
 patience overcame their judgment, and they found out 
 where they were, but the train went on without them. 
 
 A "brakie" saw them emerging from between the cars. 
 The train pulled out in a short time, and was watched 
 so closely that they could not board it. They were in a 
 small town about fifty miles from Chicago. 
 
I 
 
 CIRCUS DAYS 
 
 THE four rovers separated. The two boys learned that 
 a small circus was in the town that day, and Emmett s 
 comrade explained that they could easily get breakfast 
 at the circus grounds, as circus people were always gen 
 erous to tramps. 
 
 When they reached the circus lot the bustle and con 
 fusion caused by the pitching of the tent had almost died 
 down. As usual, the dining tent had been pitched first, 
 and stray workers still ate at the table within. 
 
 They had no sooner made known their desire for break 
 fast than they were placed at the table without ceremony. 
 While they were eating, the boss hostler entered the tent, 
 and asked them to go to work. Emmett accepted at once. 
 
 He was placed in charge of a team of Shetland ponies. 
 His duty was to drive these small animals through the 
 streets every day the circus had a parade. The team was 
 hitched to a wagon with a flat bottom, upon which stood a 
 large gilded figure of Robinson Crusoe, with the kneeling 
 figure of Friday at his feet. 
 
 Emmett s parade uniform consisted of a red cockade 
 hat, which sat jauntily upon his red head, and a long red 
 
 ,t with two rows of brass buttons. In this manner did 
 art travel her anguished way through the streets. 
 
 Weeks passed, and pay-days never came. It was hinted 
 
 hat 
 coa 
 
156 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 about that the men were to be paid in a lump sum at 
 the end of the season. Thus hope was deferred and the 
 men made happy. Sometimes though, the men became 
 restless, and the bland owner made them feel that the 
 circus could not possibly survive the loss of their depar 
 ture. Emmett knew little of the magic thing called per 
 sonality at this time, but whenever he heard of it later he 
 used to think of the circus owner. 
 
 The owner s wife traveled with the circus. She had 
 been an actress, and her beauty sat lightly upon her. She 
 was never guilty of affectation, and the rough circus men 
 had a genuine feeling of kindness for her. She was 
 younger than her husband, and seemed to be in the early 
 thirties. 
 
 She was fond of the Shetland ponies, and as Emmett 
 was also, this made the first bond of interest between 
 them. She used to pet the ponies while the boy worked 
 with them. Sometimes, during the quiet hours, when the 
 work was done, she would find time to talk to him. 
 
 Her father had been a lawyer with more reputation than 
 money, who came near entering the United States Senate, 
 but within a week of the time he was to take his seat, 
 he died of heart failure and took his seat in the Senate 
 of Death instead. 
 
 Emmett was changing under the bludgeoning hand of 
 environment. His self-reliance was astonishing, but his 
 self-control was a weak and withered thing. He had 
 physical courage, though courage of any other kind was 
 a latent quality with him. His nature was fiercely inde 
 pendent, and he only responded to kindness. 
 
CIRCUS DAYS 157 
 
 It was not until later that he analyzed for himself 
 that though Napoleon was strong enough to conquer a 
 world, he was still weak enough to stay with a brainless 
 woman who betrayed him in the first hot flush of his 
 youth. But at this period Emmett s emotions were guid 
 ing his ship of life, while his reasoning faculties were 
 but the sailors who scrubbed the deck. 
 
 The mad Nietzsche was not mad when he said that no 
 life could ever be completely written. Even Rousseau 
 told but the glimmerings of things about himself. Etn- 
 mett s life is not written to please his ego. A man doe? 
 not give his heart s blood unless he feels that in giving a 
 drop of the virile stuff, it might suffice to help another 
 youth grope through the pit of darkness with renewed 
 strength. 
 
 So the boy hid his every weakness by a sneering, de 
 fiant manner. Did his head ache after a debauch as 
 though his brain would fly from his skull, he would drink 
 more vile liquor, and revel in the sensation that it 
 created. 
 
 He fought with the women of the underworld whom 
 he met If they gave him money he accepted it as though 
 it were honestly come by. He would give his last dime 
 away, and he would, without qualms, accept a last 
 dime. 
 
 Experience with life and books had made the teachings 
 of the Home roll away from him as water from a duck s 
 back. During the quiet hours in the secret sessions with 
 his soul he would hold Ruth and the Faith Healer to his 
 heart. And Ruth, the brilliant girl, who made a compro 
 
158 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 tnise with no sham, was then, and will ever remain, one of 
 the greatest influences in his life. 
 
 It is not the people who crowd about us when fame or 
 wealth find us that are always the true friends. The true 
 friend may be in a lonely grave, or in some quiet corner 
 of the world. They single you out for that which you 
 are and love you for what you hope to be. They may 
 have no moral code, as there are many types that loiter 
 along the roads of life that go zig-zag over the world. 
 Did not Meredith s rover say that he had found some men 
 good, and some H,d, and most a dash between the two? 
 
 The point made here is, that of all who shaped Em-, 
 mett s life, an unconventional girl with a heart of gold, 
 and a dreamer who entered no church, were ever in the 
 lead. 
 
 The boy soon became a perverted complex of everything. 
 He liked nature, beautiful women, books and pictures. 
 He never told vulgar stories, or listened to them. He 
 had no moral scruples about them. It was just a sense 
 of delicacy running like a streak of gold in very common 
 earth. Perhaps it was an inherited instinct from his 
 mother. 
 
 It may also be said that he believed in a woman s 
 honor if she believed in it. He never once thought of 
 virtue or honor in connection with women. In fact, to be 
 quite frank, he felt that other things being equal, he could 
 get more understanding and appreciation from women 
 of the underworld. He should not be condemned for 
 this, his life had convinced him of its truth. He had 
 
CIRCUS DAYS 159 
 
 stirrings of ambition now and then, and a vague desire 
 at times to attempt to live up to Ruth s faith in him. 
 But the line of least resistance was to drift with the tide, 
 asi carefree as the wind that plays upon green meadows. 
 
 There was a new position open with the circus which 
 placed Emmett upon the ragged edge of the acting pro 
 fession. If a man rolls a hoop around the circus ring, 
 he is a performer. Does he not perform with a hoop? 
 Has he not a right then to sit at the performer s table, and 
 take on airs? 
 
 There was a comical scene in the cir< ns in which a man 
 endeavored to wrestle with a mule. Emmett s new posi 
 tion consisted of being chief wrestler. The ringmaster 
 would stand in the center of the ring and offer a reward of 
 ten dollars, or a million to the man who threw the mule, or 
 managed to ride on its back. 
 
 Emmett wore heavily padded clothes for the occasion 
 designed to make a rustic holiday. From some point in 
 the audience he would stroll to the ring after hearing the 
 announcement. 
 
 Through long practice the mule became more than 
 ambidextrous, it could bite, kick, and paw at the same 
 time. If it should have a mulish kind impulse toward 
 the man in the ring who had a foolish notion as to 
 how to make an honest living, the wretched ringmaster 
 rould taunt it with his whip. 
 
 The foolish mule seemed to think that the poor 
 istler had the whip, and he would tear after him like 
 m enraged tiger bent on extermination. The rustics 
 
160 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 would howl with glee, and had the mule bitten an arm off 
 they probably would have died in wild and mirthful 
 abandonment. 
 
 Men who boxed Emmett in the ring later used to marvel 
 at his ability to stand up under the most grueling punish 
 ment, and to wrestle in the clinches like an angry young 
 bear. Emmett never told them the secret, but he was 
 the only pugilist that ever lived who first entered the 
 ring with a mule. 
 
 At this point in Emmett s life he seriously thought 
 of becoming a circus clown. It was so fine to be re 
 spected as a performer, and to feel that he had started 
 with the circus as just an ordinary driver of ponies. It 
 made him dizzy to reflect how far he had climbed. 
 
 When small town reporters would visit the circus, he 
 would always hide, as he dreaded interviews. He used 
 to read theatrical magazines and talk shop with the 
 other performers as they washed their tights on Sunday. 
 
 When the circus disbanded in the fall, the owner paid 
 all his men, and established a precedent which all small 
 circus owners should faithfully follow. For one per 
 former told Emmett that he had once watched a vanish 
 ing circus train fading down the track with all his pay. 
 
 The man who had the audacity to cheat a performer 
 should have the courage to conquer a world. For do not 
 theatrical people carry a whole solar system within them 
 selves ? 
 
 But, ah, they are a royal hearted crew ! With all their 
 faults, there are no hearts like theirs the wide world 
 over . . . Gypsies on the highway of life . . . 
 
CIRCUS DAYS 161 
 
 Being a performer, of course, had given Emmett plenty 
 of time to read books of the better grade. The owner s 
 wife had books with her, and shared them with Emmett, 
 as book lovers will all the world around. 
 
 This summer he read "Life on the Mississippi," and 
 "Roughing It," by the Prince Charming of writers. 
 
 The owner s wife had been reared along the Mississippi, 
 in a town which is nameless here, for her father s name 13 
 still heard on its streets. 
 
 Many women bring the minds of waitresses to ban 
 quets spread by genius, but this cannot be said of the 
 circus owner s wife. Neither did she have to go to 
 books written by men for her conception of the psychol 
 ogy of women. . . . She had dared to live herself, and 
 in daring to live, she had dared to learn, and she had 
 paid a heavy price for what she knew about life. 
 Though some of the lessons were bitter, she received 
 them with a smile. 
 
 She warrants a word of description here. She was 
 a petite little woman, with great, dark eyes, and dark 
 hair, and a doll-like face which was neither round nor 
 classic, but bordering somewhat on the latter. Just 
 enough to save her from a double chin which mars so 
 many pretty round faces. Her taste for colors seemed 
 to enhance her beauty. 
 
 She gave Emmett "Madame Bovary" to read, and 
 when he returned it to her, he found her a trifle weary 
 of the present, and full of regrets for the past. For 
 icr past had been one of those lightning flashes, after 
 rhich the thunder echoes a long, long time. 
 
162 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 She had run away from home at seventeen, and had 
 written her brilliant father a defiantly kind letter telling 
 of her decision to become an actress. 
 
 She was now sitting back in an unconventional garb, 
 smoking a Turkish cigarette, which filled the small sec 
 tion of the car as with a heavy incense. 
 
 It was an off-day with the circus, owing to some mis 
 understanding with the rulers of the town in which 
 they were to show. 
 
 The circus people were spending the day according 
 to the propelling motives of their desires. ^?he owner 
 was playing poker, his one relaxation from the strain 
 of piloting a one-horse circus about the land. 
 
 As he entered" the car, the owner s wife laughingly 
 said, as she flicked the ashes from her cigarette; 
 
 "I was wondering where you were, Performer. I 
 thought once of sending for you." "WJien ^mmett 
 handed her the book she asked, "How did you like 
 Madame Bovary ?",- ; 
 
 "She was a wonderfw^woman," replied the wrestler 
 of the mule. 
 
 "Did you ever know a woman as fine as she was?" 
 asked the owner s wife. 
 
 "I knew one that >was far finer and prettier," answered 
 Emmett. 
 
 "I would love to hear about her," said site, as she 
 looked out of the window, and blew a puff of blue 
 smoke before her eyes. 
 
 "Won t you talk to me to-day?" said Emmett. "You 
 have read and seen so much more than I have." 
 
I 
 
 CIRCUS DAYS 163 
 
 Til tell you what I ll do," she laughed. "I ll flip a 
 coin, heads I win, tails you lose and the loser must tell 
 a story." 
 
 "You want me to play the game like the rustic who 
 bets the wise guy that the bean is under the shell 
 one of those if I win, you lose games don t you?" 
 asked Emmett. 
 
 "No, I ll flip honest and abide by the decision of the 
 coin, really and truly I will," she said girlishly. 
 
 "All right," said Emmett, "flip the coin, I ll take 
 heads." The delicate white hand flipped a silver coin 
 in the air ; it fell upon the floor and whirled about for a 
 moment the owner s wife had lost. 
 
 "Just my luck," she said. "What woman can beat a 
 man?" 
 
 "Well, Cleopatra took some of the wise boys into 
 camp," replied Emmett. 
 
 "Don t you believe everything you read in history," 
 said the clever woman. "Perhaps Cleo was in love with 
 some roughneck common soldier, who knows?" 
 
 "What is love?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "It is the feeling one has when he thinks he s a phi 
 losopher." 
 
 "Do you believe in it ?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "I do," she answered, with a slight trace of emotion. 
 "I believe in it so much that I almost went to hell for it. 
 Had it lasted, I d have stayed there, too." 
 
 "He must have been a handsome fellow to win a 
 woman like you," was Emmett s gallant, but sincere 
 reply. 
 
 
164 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "I never thought about him as being handsome/ she 
 said, "but I guess he was, he was so unselfish that he 
 would give an umbrella away and walk home in the 
 rain." She looked at her wedding ring with a wistful 
 expression. 
 
 "Was he a smart man?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "Well, he wrote plays two of them, he was the only 
 man I ever knew who never bored me for a second." 
 
 "Funny, you never married him," said Emmett. 
 
 "Not so funny after all, when a person comes to 
 think of it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Well, a girl can t marry a dead man, can she?" 
 The woman s reply brought no answer, and the two 
 sat silent for several moments. "You see, he was al 
 ready married. It was one of those wretched affairs 
 that mar the careers of so many brilliant men. A genius 
 should put off marrying until he is forty, and then 
 postpone it another forty years." She lit another ciga 
 rette, and continued. 
 
 "He married his wife when he was twenty-one years 
 old. She was not a bad woman, but she had the brains 
 of a twelve-year-old girl. Twins called papa to him 
 two years later, and for five years he worked on a New 
 York newspaper, till his play went over." 
 
 She looked at a dainty foot, and then in Emmett s 
 face. "Then I was chosen to act in his play, and met 
 him. When I knew that I loved him I was a virgin, 
 for no moral reason whatever, save that I did not want 
 the man I loved to feel in his heart that I had brought 
 
CIRCUS DAYS 165 
 
 him stale bread. That man treated me with the same 
 respect with which he treated his own mother." 
 
 "How did he happen to die?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "Oh, typhoid fever, in her arms, can you beat it? 
 There was one consolation, the nurse at the hospital 
 knew me, and she told me that my name was the last 
 word he spoke." 
 
 Just then the owner returned, and turning to Emmett, 
 his wife said, "You see, Performer, I told you a story 
 without telling you a story. I hope you lose next time, 
 and then I will hear your story." 
 
 "Telling funny stories, eh!" said the genial owner. 
 
 "Yes, funny stories," replied his wife, "very, very 
 funny stories." 
 
 "Well, I know a funny story, too. I won eighty dol 
 lars," said the man with personality in every pocket. 
 
 A few days later the circus disbanded and went into 
 winter headquarters, within a night s ride of Chicago. 
 
 The owner gave a banquet to the performers, at which 
 his wife presided in the manner of a girl who has never 
 known a heartache. Emmett, being merely a performer 
 with an uncertain future, did not occupy much of the 
 owner s time. But his wife treated him as the farmer s 
 wife treats the man who runs the threshing machine, 
 when he seats himself at her table. 
 
 The owner s wife did not live much longer with him, 
 but that is her story, and must forever lie at the bottom 
 of the ocean of untold tales, unless Emmett should wish 
 to tell it, and Emmett never will. 
 
 On the last day of the circus Emmett went to his 
 
1 66 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 rival s stall. The mule immediately threw back its ears 
 and tried to bite him. 
 
 "You poor jackass, I want to part friends," said Em- 
 mett. "You take your work too seriously, and all you 
 get out of it is a handful of oats; why did you make 
 an ass out of yourself when the boss snapped his whip?" 
 
 The mule looked at Emmett, and pointed its ears at 
 him as if to say, "I was born an ass, but you made one 
 out of yourself for ten dollars a week, and you swelled 
 all up because you ate at the Performer s table." 
 
 "Now, Emmett," said the owner s wife, when the 
 final leave-taking came, "buy yourself a new suit when 
 you strike Chicago, and do write me a letter once in a 
 while, for you are far too good a card to lose in the 
 shuffle. Every woman holds a lot of deuces in her 
 hand. You may only be a deuce now, but you might 
 grow into a ten spot." 
 
 "Will you answer if I write?" he asked. 
 
 "Indeed I will," she said; "be good, and give State 
 Street the once over for me. I may be there in a month 
 myself." 
 
 The next day Emmett reached Chicago with his wages 
 and a light heart. 
 
 Many of the performers were with him, and they 
 made merry for the day, and then went their devious 
 ways. 
 
CHICAGO 
 
 CHICAGO has always been the mecca of vagabonds and 
 thieves, of thriving wealth and miserable destitution. 
 It has held within its heart the hopes and fears of 
 millions of human atoms who struggled remorselessly 
 on, and burdened their lives with trifles, and laughed 
 and sang and quarreled as though the happy city was 
 Heaven, and not a stepping stone into the Great 
 Oblivion. 
 
 The day after Emmett arrived the sun was hidden 
 behind the clouds. A mist hung over the city and crept 
 down into the canyoned streets, eating its way into the 
 hearts of temperamental human beings, lodging there 
 like an unwelcome guest. 
 
 The wrestler of the mule was facing another prob 
 lem. Electric lights burned in the office buildings and 
 stores, and people hurried hither and thither, buying 
 and selling, scheming and dreaming, like worried phan 
 toms of Sleepless Specters in a City of Perpetual Night. 
 
 A wind flew across the cold water of Lake Michigan, 
 and gathered momentum as it flew. It whirled through 
 the streets of the city, and blew its icy breath in the 
 faces of the tired beggars and florid wives of wealth. 
 
 The wretched day seemed to write with Dostoievsky s 
 pen a chapter of gloom which permeated even the gayest 
 heart. 
 
 167 
 
1 68 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 In the vast wilderness of human beings there was no 
 soul that Emmett knew. The impressionable boy was 
 thrown back upon himself, while retrospection taunted 
 him like a sensuous maiden with sad, blue eyes. Then 
 introspection came like a harlot with a withered rose in 
 her hand. She threw the faded petals upon the street, 
 as she asked the boy just what he intended to do with his 
 life. 
 
 Would he sink or fight, or would he become one of 
 the wretched members of the tatterdemalion army who 
 had asked him for a dime that morning? 
 
 Emmett was lonely when the beggar had approached 
 him. What a story he had told? True or not, it was 
 the record of grim battle with life, that he must have 
 touched somewhere, or else the man was an embryo Zola 
 with vermin-ridden clothes. 
 
 How the words from the weak, sagging mouth beat 
 a tattoo and danced a weird fandango in Emmett s heart 
 and brain ! 
 
 His bleared eyes would close as he talked, as if he 
 were tired of gazing at storms. "I ain t had nary a 
 bite in two days, only what I stole off the lunch counter 
 at Hinky Dinks," he said. 
 
 His mouth was in need of teeth, his eyes were in need 
 of glasses, his decrepit body in need of clothes. He 
 scratched himself as he said, "I m crummy as a cuckoo, 
 an* I can t get rid of y em." Vermin-ridden hoboes had 
 been seen long before this by Emmett, and he knew 
 the remedy for it. 
 
 "Can t you get your clothes fumigated ?" the boy asked. 
 
CHICAGO 169 
 
 "Too far gone, they d fall to pieces," replied the 
 vagabond. 
 
 "Why don t you go to the Salvation Army Head 
 quarters? They ll give you a suit." 
 
 The old pessimist attempted to laugh. "Yes, for 
 four or five dollars," he said. 
 
 "How s that?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "Well, y u see, people gives em to the Army, an* 
 they sells em to the boes. They say they has to pay 
 salaries." 
 
 "Hell again," said Emmett. 
 
 "I ll say she is. She s a great life if you don t git 
 the measles," said the bleared old sinner. 
 
 As he stood there talking, he wondered how Ruth 
 would have treated this old man. Well he knew that 
 she would have done everything within her power for 
 him. 
 
 The boy went to the Army Headquarters Store, and 
 bought an old suit and clean underclothing for the beg 
 gar, who placed them under his arm and hurried away, 
 saying thankfully as he did so, 
 
 "I ll hurry over to the Free Bath House an clean up, 
 been on the bo yourself, ain t you, Lad?" 
 
 "Yes, old scout, I ll be there again," replied Emmett, 
 "so long." 
 
 "So long," said the derelict; "thankee fur the Java 
 and rolls, too." 
 
VIVIAN 
 
 THE days passed, and Emmett s money passed with 
 them. Life sank down like a vulture with sharp talons, 
 and drove its beak into his heart. 
 
 He divided his time between a cheap saloon on South 
 State Street and the Public Library. At the rear of 
 this saloon was a wine room which was frequented by 
 many women. 
 
 Emmett met a young woman there one evening who 
 was clinging desperately to the ragged edge of life. 
 
 It had been twenty years since Vivian s mother had 
 been made glad because she was a girl, as she already 
 had a son five years old. 
 
 Vivian s father was a steel worker, one of those 
 happy men who work twelve hours a day, seven days a 
 week. He would not see the color of his house, if it 
 had any, from October until April, as he would leave 
 early in the morning and return late at night, in dark 
 ness each way. 
 
 As a girl, Vivian used to raise geraniums in old tin 
 cans, until they would become root bound, and die, 
 and then she would wonder what killed them. Once a 
 German laborer told her that the leaves could not 
 breathe in the heavy, smoky atmosphere. She was only 
 twelve at the geranium raising incident, but after a while 
 
 170 
 
VIVIAN 171 
 
 she began to see that neither the geraniums or the peo 
 ple had really lived in her childhood neighborhood. 
 
 After Vivian was born her mother and father must 
 have read something about the danger of race suicide, 
 and the horror the country faced if there were no chil 
 dren in the world. Had there been no children in the 
 world, to be reared like gutter rats in order that they 
 might be exploited later, and not much later either, the 
 world would have been better off, or to put it more 
 clearly the children would. 
 
 But Vivian s father saw every vital issue as clearly as 
 an owl in broad daylight. Vivian s mother was to be 
 pitied. But children came one after another, until six 
 of them slept in a room. Vivian became the guardian 
 of the brood. 
 
 Vivian s mother then rested a spell in a wretched bed, 
 in a wretched street, in the most damnably wretched 
 section of Chicago. 
 
 The steel mill would shut down every so often, and 
 then all the poor devils who labored therein could think 
 about was when it would start again. This is Vivian s 
 story, but not in Vivian s words. Her words would 
 have to be written on asbestos paper, which would make 
 too thick a book. And besides, some sweet woman, per 
 haps a leading club member, may read these lines, for girls 
 in steel districts talking over the agonies of their girl 
 hood do not often say, "God bless us every one," like 
 Tiny Tim. 
 
 Anyhow, it seemed that after Vivian s mother had 
 been given a rest, she just decided to take a longer one. 
 
172 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 So she went away for a long while and left her chil 
 dren to the tender mercy of God. She had heard that 
 he was kind and just, but she had no choice in the mat 
 ter, for she was very tired. Her partner, the grim Race 
 Perpetuator, was out of work at the time she died, 
 so a kind-hearted undertaker took charge of the body, 
 and only charged the good man five times what it was 
 actually worth. The undertaker told him as he was 
 out of work at the time he would make the charges 
 reasonable. 
 
 When the shop returned to work, a certain amount 
 was deducted from the pay of the philosopher of logic 
 in order that the doctor and undertaker would nut lose. 
 
 Vivian s brother went to work at fourteen, but Vivian 
 went to work many years earlier. The squalling chil 
 dren needed some one, so upon her weak shoulders was 
 placed the history of an American family . . . Vivian 
 lived in the middle of the street, and there was a saloon 
 on each corner, a half block either way from her home. 
 The steel workers drank glass after glass of rotgut 
 whisky, and glass after glass of wretched beer to rinse 
 the taste out of their mouths. 
 
 When Vivian was fifteen love pranced into her life 
 like a drab little pony from fairyland. It colored her 
 whole existence. The lover was a young steel worker. 
 He took her to shows, and helped her pass away the long 
 evenings. She had nothing to give in return, so woman 
 like, she gave all. 
 
 Before she was sixteen, she was carried through hell 
 on a stretcher, but God was as merciful as ever, and 
 
VIVIAN 173 
 
 the seven-months baby joined its grandmother. The 
 hero of the story, like so many heroes, was no hero at 
 all. He deserted. 
 
 Some of the kindhearted people in her neighborhood 
 ridiculed her, but to the everlasting credit of humanity, 
 they were not in the majority. The girl was broken up, 
 and frail and trembling, a green leaf withered too 
 early, facing the winds of late October. 
 
 There was an Italian girl in the neighborhood who 
 thought many things out for herself. She went to see 
 Vivian, and talked to her, while the child clutched her 
 in utter gratitude. The Italian girl called the married 
 women who had no mercy, "a lot of legalized prosti 
 tutes!" The Italian girl kept the wolf from the door 
 by entertaining wolves at night, after she was through 
 entertaining at a large Italian restaurant. 
 
 The Race Perpetuator remarried. A Hungarian 
 woman took charge of the brood, which the good man 
 gave her as a wedding present. 
 
 Vivian drifted until she met Emmett in the wine 
 room. Boy and girl were like two ships hailing each 
 other with the distress signal, though countless ships 
 sailed all about them. 
 
 "How are you to-night?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "Fine, I m as cheerful as a morgue," said Vivian. 
 
 Emmett sat near her and removed his hat, and the girl 
 
 looked at his hair, as he laid the hat on the table. "You 
 
 . 
 
 think you re a whole ocean cause you got waves in 
 your hair, don t you?" said the girl, who still knew 
 how to smile. 
 
 
174 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "No, I don t," replied the boy, "for I know I m a 
 puddle, all dried up." 
 
 "Broke?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Not broke, but smashed," said the boy. "A dollar 
 would look bigger to me than Logan s monument over 
 in Grant Park." 
 
 "You should save your money, and buy drinks for 
 wild women. Didn t you read about that man in the 
 Bible who saved a dollar a day for a million days?" 
 The boy smiled a pause, then, 
 
 "Loosen up and buy a drink," said he. 
 
 "All right," she said, as she pressed the button. 
 
 The drinks ordered, the girl looked again at Emmett, 
 and said, "Say, Kid, with that hair of yours, you ought 
 to go down on Custom House Place. Red-headed boys 
 are popular with half-tame women." 
 
 "Perhaps I ll go down there," replied Emmett. Both 
 drank the vile liquor and shuddered, then the girl held the 
 glass in her right hand, and rubbed it upon the wet 
 table. 
 
 "Where do you sleep, if you re broke ?" she asked, still 
 holding her glass. 
 
 "On a chair in the back of the lobby of a fifteen-cent 
 joint," was the reply. 
 
 "Don t the dicks ever bother you?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, once in a while, some of them come in and look 
 for some desperate desperado asleep on a chair. But the 
 night clerk likes me, and sticks up for me, and some 
 times when the beds are not all full he lets me have one 
 of them about two in the morning." 
 
VIVIAN 175 
 
 "He s not a bad fellow then," said the girl with quick 
 feeling. 
 
 "I ll say he s not. He s an honest to God man, but he ll 
 be pushing the clouds before another year, he s almost 
 dead now," said he. 
 
 "It s tough when a good guy dies ; there s not enough of 
 em in the world now," said Vivian. 
 
 "Nope, good guys are as scarce as horses in the middle 
 of the ocean." 
 
 "A darn sight scarcer than that," replied Vivian. 
 
 "Why don t you get out of this life?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Why don t you, it s always easier for a girl." 
 
 "Easier, my God! don t make me laugh, my lips are 
 cracked ; why, you talk like a funny paper." 
 
 "Well, men give you money, and they don t give it to 
 boys," said Emmett. 
 
 "Listen, Kid, men don t give money, you ve got to take 
 it from them." 
 
 "Don t you like men?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Once in a while you find a good one, but the most of 
 them are devils. Men run this world that us kids live 
 in, the selfish bastards, and most of them only give women 
 what they take. And women the damn fools stand for 
 it. But believe me, oh, what s the use why worry?" 
 she said, as she pressed the button again. 
 
 The bartender leered at her as he brought the drinks. 
 When he had gone, the girl smiled, and said, 
 
 "He s the kind that wants a girl , well, he s a man." 
 
 Emmett looked at the outspoken girl across the table 
 from him. Her eyes were a vivid blue, and her hair a 
 
 
176 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 beautiful shade of blonde. Her clothing was neat, and 
 more in the quiet taste of the well-bred girl. She wore a 
 tiny gold chain about her neck. A plain gold ring was on 
 the third finger of her right hand, and noticing Emmett 
 look at it, she explained, "That s my mother s wedding 
 ring, and it made her dance to a hell of a tune. Dad 
 wanted it buried with her, the damn nut, but I took it off 
 her finger." There was silence for a moment, then the 
 girl resumed, "Here s a dollar and a half, and I ll tell you 
 what to do. There s a Newsboys Home about seven 
 blocks away, on Wabash Avenue. You go there and tell 
 the matron a hard luck tale; that ought to be easy. I 
 know some of the boys there, and you can get a bed and 
 two meals a day there anyhow. It beats sitting up, or 
 carrying the banner." 
 
 "Who ever told you about carrying the banner ?" asked 
 the boy. 
 
 "Heavens, Kid, I ve walked the streets all night my 
 self." 
 
 Then as they rose to go she said, "Drift in here any 
 night, and I ll see you. I must go home now." 
 
 Emmett walked along State Street until he reached 
 Fourteenth. He then turned toward Wabash Avenue. 
 
 When he reached the Home he was met by a distin 
 guished looking woman who wore gold nose glasses, and 
 had her iron gray hair dressed in a most becoming man 
 ner. 
 
 She asked him questions in a most friendly way. The 
 boy paid a dollar in advance, which left him fifty cents to 
 spend in riotous living. 
 
VIVIAN 177 
 
 The Home was a three-story building. Boys drifted in 
 and out of the play-room at all hours of the day. Box 
 ing matches were held there among the boys for their own 
 amusement. Three of the boys who boxed there became 
 pugilists of national reputation a few years later. 
 
 November left the city in the grip of winter, and De 
 cember came and carried out the program. Emmett fre 
 quently met Vivian, and one day he spent six hours with 
 her in the Art Institute. 
 
 They wandered through room after room of the Temple 
 of Beauty, and once the girl stood spellbound before the 
 picture of a tenement house which contained red flowering 
 geraniums in the window. 
 
 "Painting must be a wonderful gift," said the daughter 
 of the Race Perpetuator. "Just think, the man who 
 painted that had to feel it in his soul." 
 
 "Yes," said Emmett, "and maybe he was a poor devil 
 who sweat blood to learn how to make those red flowers." 
 
 "Why do the papers make fun of artists and writers for 
 being poor ?" she asked. 
 
 "Well," replied Emmett, "it was never popular to be 
 poor, only in the Bible." 
 
 They came to the room where hung the pictures of 
 George Inness. One was a landscape picture of the Cats- 
 kill Mountains in which the artist blended his colors 
 with such sublime genius that he made the picture look 
 far more beautiful to the onlookers than ever Nature 
 could. 
 
 "Gee, Vivian!" said Emmett, "old Rip Van Winkle 
 would have slept over twenty years in a place like that." 
 
178 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Who was Rip Van Winkle ?" asked the girl. 
 "He was a man who slept for twenty years in the Cats- 
 kills, and never woke up. But he finally awoke, and went 
 home." 
 
 "Well," she said, "we all sleep longer than that, in the 
 end." As she gazed at the picture, its haunting beauty 
 crept into her soul. "I wonder," she said, "if there really 
 is a place as pretty as that in the world ?" 
 
 "You should see Ohio in the spring and summer," said 
 Emmett. 
 
 "All I ve ever seen," said Vivian, "is the parks here in 
 the summer, and darn little of them, and I m crazy about 
 trees and flowers, too." 
 
 From a room of the Art Institute they looked out upon 
 Lake Michigan tossing like an immense gray and blue 
 blanket in the wind. 
 
 "Away over there," said Emmett, pointing, "is Michi 
 gan." 
 
 "And away, way farther off," said the girl, "is the end 
 of the world." They walked down Michigan Boulevard 
 till they came to Eldridge Court, where Vivian lived. 
 "Wouldn t you like to be a great artist?" asked Vivian. 
 "I surely would, for you can make your own world then, 
 and tell all the rest of the people to go to the devil." 
 
 "It s worth a lot to be able to tell every one to go to 
 the devil, but it might be better to feel that way, and not 
 tell them. For everybody has their troubles, Vivian." 
 
 "I know," she said, "maybe I wouldn t tell them if I 
 could. Maybe some of their fathers work in steel mills, 
 too." 
 
VIVIAN 179 
 
 "I ve a notion to go to New York after Christmas," 
 said Emmett. 
 
 "Never spoil a good notion," replied Vivian, "but al 
 ways look me up when you strike Chicago. Come to see 
 me Christmas, and we ll eat over at Colosimo s, where 
 Natalie sings. Natalie was always good to me." 
 
 "All right," said Emmett, "I ll see you on Christmas, 
 sure." 
 
 Christmas passed at the Newsboys Home about like any 
 other day. The boys jokingly said, "It s Christmas for 
 some, and the twenty-fifth of December for others." 
 
 Some of them knew girls of Vivian s type over their 
 section of the city. However, they kept the matter quiet, 
 as it was against the rules of the Home for boys to min 
 gle with girls who had seen much of life. Though no 
 respectable girl ever came near the Home and but very 
 few seemed to know that such a place was in the city. 
 The Board of Directors and their wives made visits once 
 a year but to the vast number of men and women in the 
 city, the Home had not the vaguest reality. 
 
 But Emmett had a happy Christmas at Colosimo s, and 
 as Vivian said the next day, "Lordy, we got as stewed 
 as boiled owls." 
 
 The day after New Year s Emmett started on the pil 
 grimage to New York. 
 
A COLD JOURNEY 
 
 IT was bitterly cold, as Emmett waited for a mail train 
 at Grand Crossing with a young rover who was beating his 
 way as far as Cleveland. The snow tried hard to fall. 
 "It s too cold to snow, and I m glad of it. Snow s worse 
 than cold, or just as bad," said the youth. 
 
 Emmett looked up into the gray atmosphere which was 
 impenetrable a slight distance above the telegraph poles. 
 
 "We ll not meet anybody on the road in weather like 
 this," said he. 
 
 "No," replied his companion, "the dicks won t bother 
 us any, it s too cold for them to be out much. They hug 
 the stove in cold weather. I came into Chi from Omaha 
 once, and they never bothered me at all. It was cold 
 then, too." 
 
 Darkness, never very far away, soon replaced the gray- 
 ness of the drab January day. Everything became as still 
 as a snow scene in a picture. "Lord, I wish that rattler 
 would come," said Emmett s fellow vagabond. 
 
 "It ll be here soon," replied Emmett. "It s due out of 
 La Salle Street Station at five o clock." 
 
 They sat quietly a train length from the Crossing until 
 a headlight appeared, followed by the click of the wheels 
 across interlaced tracks. "Here she comes!" the youths 
 
 180 
 
A COLD JOURNEY 181 
 
 cried in unison, as gaining momentum, the giant engine 
 drew near. 
 
 In a flash the lads were aboard, and with coat collars 
 turned up, and caps pulled low over their eyes, they 
 clung to the flying train that roared like an iron monster 
 through the night. 
 
 Each boy had money enough to last a few days, and 
 outside of the cold, which soon began to penetrate to the 
 marrow of their bones, they felt no worse than boys 
 in snug homes in the towns through which the train 
 whirled. 
 
 But the cold was a reptile with fangs that steadily be 
 came sharper. When each stop was made the boys would 
 run to warm themselves, and as the stops were of short 
 duration, and the train would run two hours at a time 
 without stopping, it required courage of some kind, how 
 ever wasted, to cling to the icy handles beneath the flying 
 cinders. 
 
 There were times when their feet became heavy as lead, 
 and they would kick them desperately against the car to 
 revive the ebbing circulation. 
 
 "If we can only stick it out to Sandusky," said the lad 
 hopefully, "we can make it the rest of the way; it s not 
 far then ; are you game ?" asked he. 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmert, "I ll stay with the ship if you 
 do." Back in the Pullman cnr people slept in warm beds. 
 
 "It must be great to roll up in warm blankets and sleep 
 all night," was the youth s comment. 
 
 "Well, maybe we can some day," said Emmett. 
 
 "Yep," said the young rover, "maybe it ll rain soup 
 
182 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 to-morrow." As the train left Sandusky the youth said 
 to Emmett, "Ever been in Ohio before, pal?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmett, "I was here a long time, once." 
 
 "She s a great old state," said the youth with glad feel 
 ing to be near home again, "and there s some great people 
 here, too." 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmett. "I used to know some dandy 
 folks here." 
 
 Choo-choo, cho, c-h-o-o, the engine whistle shrieked, 
 as the train neared Cleveland. "Oh, boy! that sounds 
 good just like mother callin dinner," was the remark 
 made by the youthful Ohioan. 
 
 "Have you got a mother?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "You bet I have," replied the boy, "she s a good scout, 
 too." 
 
 "Then why the devil don t you stay with her?" asked 
 Emmett. 
 
 "Believe me, pal, I intend to after this. One night like 
 this is enough for yours truly. I m done cooked on both 
 sides and frozen through. When I get home, I ll say, 
 Mother, I ve come home to you, and she ll probably say, 
 Yes, you young scamp, you ve come home to eat/ But 
 I ll show her this time, you re darn right I ll show her. 
 My dad ll be glad I wasn t a girl yet." 
 
 And then the train reached the dilapidated station at 
 Cleveland. The youths left it and were quickly lost 
 among the crowds. Their legs were numb and they first 
 had difficulty in walking. They went to the station and 
 washed, and passing the depot restaurant, where higher 
 
A COLD JOURNEY 183 
 
 prices were charged, they had a hearty breakfast in a 
 small place across the street. 
 
 After the meal, they separated at the Public Square. 
 A reaction from the effects of the strenuous night came 
 over Emmett. It was in Cleveland that Ruth had so 
 often visited with her mother. 
 
 Ohio was indeed a graveyard of memories. Ruth and 
 the Faith Healer had burned out life s brief candle here. 
 There had been drama enough in their lives to have made 
 old Ibsen envious. And now they were as quiet as an 
 empty house through which the wind had blown. 
 
 Was Slim Eddie still alive ? Who lived in the home of 
 the Faith Healer ? Did Effie look as pretty as ever in her 
 checked aprons? 
 
 Emmett thought it would be fine to marry Effie. She 
 was as kind as she was cheerful. Life was not so sad 
 when she was near, and besides, Effie had cried when he 
 went away. The sudden notion came to him to see Effie. 
 Then he thought "no, that would never do," he would 
 make good first. But he would write to her at once, and 
 ask her to write to him at New York City, General De 
 livery. He would write a postal card before he forgot it. 
 
 As he wrote he thought of Vivian, and sent her a card 
 also. 
 
 "Why, the world was not so lonely," he thought. He 
 had a few friends in his life. Could he win out before 
 these people died, who had faith in him? He thought 
 of the people who had been kind to him. He was a wise 
 youth and tried to forget all unkindness. He figured out 
 
184 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 how long it would take his postals to arrive at their dif 
 ferent destinations. 
 
 He thought he would like to live as the Faith Healer 
 had lived, with the love of all who knew him. Effie would 
 be his wife, and he could go to sleep every night in her 
 arms. How her eyes danced, and how red her cheeks 
 were. He would get to see the sunsets again, for there 
 was surely no place in the world where the sun set as 
 it did in Ohio. 
 
 He lived in the past the greater part of the day, and 
 even the memory of Ruth and the Healer did not com 
 pletely spoil it for him. He went to the Public Library, 
 and stayed until evening, and after leaving there he went 
 into a cheap saloon where rovers gathered from all the 
 states in the union. 
 
 If he could find company he would ride on through 
 that night, as it was lonesome riding alone. He might 
 run across some one. Anyhow, he would get a drink, or 
 two, and sample the free lunch. For if one were not par 
 ticular, he could always make a meal out of the free 
 lunch. As he walked to the end of the bar, there stood 
 a young fellow with his elbows on it, his eyes roving 
 about the room. A filled whisky glass was before him. 
 
 Emmett stood near him, and laid his money on the bar 
 in a nonchalant manner, and said, "Drink up, bo, and 
 have one on me." The stranger looked at him in a kindly 
 way, and said, "Don t care if I do." 
 
 Emmett noticed a pallor about him, and quickly turned 
 his gaze away from the clean-cut features. The stranger 
 drank fastidiously and Emmett observed it at once. He 
 
A COLD JOURNEY 185 
 
 then laid a dollar on the bar and said, "Have another." 
 When that was drunk, the stranger asked, "Been in 
 Cleveland long?" 
 
 Emmett replied, "No, I just came in from Chi this 
 morning." Then Emmett said, "You been here long?" 
 
 And the stranger answered, "No, I just got in from 
 Columbus, been on a visit down there, board and room 
 free ; they gave me five bucks when I left. Nice people- 
 swell place." He placed the empty glass on the bar, "I m 
 goin* east right away, and wish I had some one to go 
 along." 
 
 "I m in the same boat. I ll pal up with you." 
 
 "Let s beat it then," said the stranger; "we can still 
 make the 20th Century Limited." 
 
 They reached Ashtabula in the face of a driving wind 
 which grew stronger each minute. Snow had drifted 
 along the tracks, and the wind blew flurries of it in the 
 faces of the rovers. The cold made their bodies numb, 
 and their hands were so stiff they could hardly grasp the 
 iron ladder. 
 
 "I m afraid my ears are frozen," said Emmett. 
 
 "Life s too damn short to go through this grief, let s 
 beat it for a bed," said the traveler from Columbus. 
 
 They entered a small hotel near the track which served 
 as a lodging place for trainmen from other divisions 
 along the line. 
 
 Small tables were along the wall of the combined res 
 taurant and lounging room. The lunch counter was but 
 a few feet from the tables, and men sat upon stools and 
 talked of many things. 
 
i86 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 There was a man in charge who looked as if he might 
 don his coat any moment and walk away with all the 
 available cash. He never looked straight at an object, 
 but always out of the corners of his eyes. He busied 
 himself now wiping off the lunch counter and moved the 
 limp rag in his hand in a half circle each way, but in doing 
 so he even seemed afraid to look at the rag. 
 
 His appearance was not his fault, nor his gaze either, 
 for they were both of a deceptive order. The man saw 
 at a glance that the two late comers were hoboes, but he 
 was as obliging and courteous as he would well have 
 been to the Vanderbilts themselves, could these worthies 
 by any stretch of the most vivid imagination have entered 
 such a place, on such a terrible night. Mr. Glancing Side 
 ways said, "It won t get too hot to sleep to-night, eh 
 boes?" Before either rover answered a heavy engineer 
 entered with the words, 
 
 "Number 21 stalled thirty miles out." 
 
 "That so," said Mr. Glancing Side-ways, "a guy can 
 thank God for houses on a night like this." 
 
 "Why ring in God," said the engineer, "lots of men 
 ain t got houses." The engineer had not closed the door 
 carefully, and it flew open as though an army of spirits 
 had stormed it. Snow whirled in the room, and the wind 
 came from the lake, like the shrieks and shouts of animals 
 and people in pain, a mighty crescendo of howls which 
 even the closed door only faintly subdued. 
 
 "If this wind ever goes down, I ll trek on home," said 
 a friendly engineer with a face as round as the moon, and 
 a head as hairless as the palm of Emmett s hand. His 
 
A COLD JOURNEY 187 
 
 eyes were blue and gray, and quietly soft, as if storms 
 along railroads had only made them kindly. Emmett pic 
 tured to himself the great shoulders leaning out of the 
 cab of the swaying engine as it thundered over the tracks^ 
 He wondered what he thought about as his powerful hand 
 held the throttle that sent the roaring thing of iron 
 through the snow. 
 
 "Which way, kid ?" asked the moon- faced engine driver. 
 
 "No way at all till morning," answered Emmett. "I m 
 a guest for the night. It s cold enough to freeze the ears 
 off a brass monkey and I m lucky to be inside, for once." 
 
 "I ll say you re lucky," said the engineer s fireman, "be 
 luckier still, and both you drifters eat some ham and eggs 
 with me. No insult though, don t take it that way, for 
 I ve got a meal ticket that ain t ever been punched." 
 
 "Tramp came in here the other day and ate a big feed," 
 said the engineer, "and when he got through he told the 
 boss he had no kale and no meal ticket he could punch." 
 
 " In that case/ said the boss, I ll just punch your 
 face/ so he ran after the scamp, but he fell over a railroad 
 tie and the bugger got away. 
 
 " Those damn tramps have got more nerve than I got 
 brains/ was what the boss said when he got back, and 
 then a brakie said that a tramp oughta have more nerve 
 an that, and then the boss did git sore." 
 
 The wind still roared outside when the meal had been 
 finished. The men lounged about with nerves at ease, 
 as men will who have long learned the folly of wailing 
 at the elements. 
 
 The man from Columbus was a handsome chap, with a 
 
1 88 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 personality that inspired warmth in all who met him. 
 Little mannerisms and short sentences which Emmett had 
 observed had made him feel that the stranger had not al 
 ways been an outcast. 
 
 Even as he talked with the men there was that quiet 
 poise, or inherent quality of breeding which marks the 
 superior man in any company. His eyes were the eyes 
 of a man who had seen trouble, and even when he smiled, 
 there was a tinge of sadness about them. He never 
 laughed outright, and the broadest wit failed to send him 
 into the same guffaws as the railroad men. His smile 
 was almost forced, as a man smiles at a story to which 
 he must listen a second time. His teeth were even and 
 white, and the faintest smile revealed them. He was 
 youthful looking, though he had the calm of a man past 
 thirty who has seen more than most men past sixty. Em 
 mett thought that women surely liked him, for he was so 
 forceful and easy in his manner, so bland and masterful 
 at the same time. An iron man in a velvet suit. 
 
AN EX-CONVICT TELLS A STORY 
 
 THE talk drifted toward the law, and the man who made 
 war upon it. The engineer with the round face said, 
 
 "Fellow down in Perkins County pulled a new stunt 
 when I was a kid. He had an old team of plug horses, 
 and a wagon older than the team. Well, sir, what did he 
 do, but drive them plugs clear across the state to where 
 he knew there was a big team in a new red barn way off 
 from the road, an* where the house hadn t been built yet. 
 This was in the old days, when railroads were scarcer n 
 bartenders at a Sunday School. Well believe me, or not, 
 that chap drove into that barn and traded wagons an* 
 teams, an drove a nice team of blacks out o there hitched 
 to a big new wagon. He timed everything nice, and the 
 night was blacker n the ace of spades. You couldn t hear 
 the wind buzzin over the telephone wires in them days, 
 there was none no wires, I mean. By Thunder! that 
 guy set the barn afire, and burns team and wagon up, and 
 drives off. 
 
 "They got him two years later. How do you reckon 
 they did it? Well, the old plugs had shoes on, and their 
 feet were smaller, and the big team had no shoes on, an* 
 they traced the bird on that. He was ridin home one 
 night from a dance, a horseback, too, with his girl, and 
 they pinched him. They d first called at his home and 
 
 189 
 
EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 told his old mother they were his friends and of course 
 she told em where he was. Course she thought her son 
 had traded for the team. 
 
 "They sent him over to Columbus after he d broke his 
 dad defendin him. But here s the funny thing, he got 
 pardoned, went to Canada and changed his name, and his 
 nephew, who s my age, told me t other day that he d died 
 a month ago a banker, and a deacon in a church 
 can you beat it?" 
 
 The last words came like the shout of a prosecuting 
 attorney, and echoed over the room. 
 
 A deep silence fell over it, and the wind had temporarily 
 abated. Emmett s companion had picked up his spoon and 
 rattled it in his empty cup. 
 
 "Well," he said, "a fellow can t beat John Law, even 
 when he thinks he beats him. He s a wolf fighting millions 
 of people, and the cards are marked. And they can say 
 all they please, but the wise boy travels with the herd 
 and at least keeps within the law. I haven t reformed, 
 I ve just quit. I m thirty-three now, and I ve been in 
 every corner of the footstool. I ve just finished eighteen 
 months of a two-year-stretch at Columbus, and I m done, 
 though it took three jolts to finish me." 
 
 Every man in the room looked at the good looking rover, 
 and Mr. Glancing Side-ways almost looked straight at 
 him, so fascinated was he by his frank manner, as he 
 went on, "I had a girl in Cleveland, a pretty little Jane, 
 with a head as empty as a church on Monday, but she 
 was sweet meat. Well, I planned to make one more good 
 haul and her and I were going to raise poppies in Cali- 
 
AN EX-CONVICT TELLS A STORY 191 
 
 fornia, and live in a bungalow and sing to the moon." 
 
 There was a pause, as the narrator smiled vaguely at 
 the recollection of it. "How did you come to git your last 
 bit ?" asked the engineer with the face like the moon. 
 
 "Yorky Moran and I turned a sixty- thousand-dollar 
 stunt. Everything worked fine, like we had planned it for 
 three weeks. A couple of things came up later though, 
 they always do. It was old Simpkins place on Euclid 
 Avenue. We made the safe, got the rocks and the money, 
 took everything but the family Bible. Old Simpkins 
 must have drank coffee before he went to bed, as he stirred 
 in his sleep and rolled over. We were just about to leave 
 the room when he pulled the rolling-over stunt. It scared 
 Moran, and he turned around and leaned his hand on the 
 dresser glass, and stood there a minute till old Simpkins 
 got to dreaming of some big deal maybe. I meant to wipe 
 that glass off, but just then the old boy says, Ah ! in his 
 sleep, like a guy who s had a fine drink of liquor. So I 
 forgot it. Mrs. Simpkins was real still, and snored a lit 
 tle, it sounded funny to hear a society dame snore, but 
 anyhow, we made a safe getaway, and arranged to meet at 
 the Jew Fence s place in three days to peddle the junk." 
 
 The papers laid it on heavy the next day, and every 
 newspaper reporter turned detective. We laid low for 
 three days while old Simpkins raised his reward from ten 
 to twenty thousand dollars, for the return of his stuff. I 
 had a hunch that day, for I believe in hunches, if your 
 spirit is tuned up to get them. 
 
 "Anyhow, I walked on the opposite side of the street 
 from the pawnbroker s joint. I saw two dicks in a hall- 
 
192 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 way near the joint, and inside was poor old Yorky arguing 
 with the Jew. I walked down a piece, and watched. For 
 there wasn t a thing I could do. The dicks closed in, and 
 the jig was over. Moran had pulled a boner when he put 
 his ringers on the glass, and I pulled another when I forgot 
 to wipe the prints off." 
 
 The rover looked up from the spoon and the empty 
 cup, and resumed, "Me, like a boob, I ran my head right 
 into the noose, but I never knew. The girl liked the dick, 
 and played me for a sucker. But I swallowed the bait, 
 hook and all. I went to her room, and as I opened the 
 door, I saw the big house at Columbus on top of the 
 dick s gun. God, I felt rotten. 
 
 "Well, it s old stuff, and no use to whine now. The 
 judge was a mighty good scout, he was sure white to 
 Moran and I, and some day, I m going to write him a let 
 ter when I get on my feet. I expected ten years, and 
 Moran expected all of it till he died. The old boy felt 
 good that day. I watched him look out of the window at 
 some leaves that touched the glass, and I looked over that 
 way, and saw a sparrow sit on the window sill and peck 
 at the glass. Moran stood up for the sentence, and by 
 thunder, his nibs gave him five years. And I stood up, 
 and he looked at me, just like an old dad looks at a young 
 son, and he gave me a darn fine talk, and he told me that 
 I was too regular looking a fellow to be a crook, and that 
 he felt like investing in human nature and be lenient with 
 me, and he only slipped me two years. I got three months 
 off each year and by God ! I m through for life, just as 
 sure as there s water in the lake out there." 
 
AN EX-CONVICT TELLS A STORY 193 
 
 The rover dropped the spoon and it clattered against the 
 saucer, as he leaned back in his chair. "What became of 
 the girl ?" asked the fireman who had treated the rovers to 
 ham and eggs. 
 
 "Oh, her, she married the dick right away, and they 
 beat it to raise poppies with the twenty thousand, I guess," 
 and he resumed, 
 
 "I was sore at women for a while, but my mother s still 
 a square shooter, and I m through absolutely. I ll pick 
 roses on the straight and narrow after this, and she can 
 have her damned poppies." 
 
 It was past midnight, and the wind roared with the re 
 newed youth of morning. Emmett and the ex-convict 
 climbed up the rickety stairs to bed. But not before they 
 had been wished a cheerful good night from the railroad 
 men. 
 
 When they entered the room the next morning, Mr. 
 Glancing Side-ways was on duty. "Here, Mate," he 
 called to the ex-convict, "is a note left for you." As he 
 handed it to the rover, he tore the envelope open, and a 
 five-dollar bill dropped to the floor. He held a slip of 
 paper in his hand, and read : 
 
 "Remember that Judge, and forget the girl, and good luck, 
 old boy, you ll win yet." 
 
 THE RAILROAD BOYS. 
 
 The ex-convict s face set, as if fighting back an emotional 
 impulse, "Well, I ll be damned," he said, "can you beat 
 that?" and Emmett said, 
 
 "We ll score a big white mark for human nature." 
 They said "So long" and walked out into the air. 
 
SNOW BOUND 
 
 THE winter morning was a blending of gray and white. 
 The ground and all immovable objects were as white as 
 winding sheets. The lake was shrouded in complete 
 grayness, and roared and swirled near the tracks, like a 
 seething volcano that even the hand of winter could not 
 calm. 
 
 The cold day seemed to touch the hearts of all men, 
 and hoboes, switchmen and brakemen fraternized one with 
 another, like soldiers, with petty differences settled, who 
 face a common enemy. 
 
 Emmett and the ex-convict loitered in the switchmen s 
 shanty, in which a coal fire blazed in a box stove. A 
 blinding snow storm came quickly and silently, and great 
 snowflakes were driven by the wind in every direction. 
 Emmett stood and watched them chasing each other in the 
 cold, dreary air. A switchman entered the shanty, his 
 hat and shoulders covered with snow. "The old lady s 
 shakin hell out of a white goose up there," he said, and 
 the ex-convict smiled and remarked, 
 
 "I ll say so, her neighbors are helping her shake the 
 whole damn flock." 
 
 Finally a freight train crept slowly out of the yards. 
 It crept even more slowly as it reached the white open 
 
 194 
 
SNOW BOUND 195 
 
 country. A creeping worm upon an immense white 
 blanket. 
 
 Emmett and his comrade were aboard it in an empty 
 box car. Never did tortoise creep along a country road 
 in such a heart-breaking manner, as did the freight train 
 along the steel rails near Lake Erie. 
 
 The hours of waiting on railroad sidings, the loneliness, 
 the heavy winter day which benumbs even the most stolid 
 animal, brought a reaction to these lads who were anything 
 but stolid. 
 
 But the longest day ends at last, as that day ended for 
 the Man on Calvary. 
 
 Not an object had moved on the white landscape for 
 hour after hour. The eye could not penetrate twenty feet 
 ahead. A black bird flew along the fence near the track, 
 as though not daring to fly through the ocean of grayness 
 overhead. Finally the echo of the whistle of a faraway 
 locomotive was heard by the rovers in the empty box 
 car. It came closer and closer, and passed the freight 
 on the siding. 
 
 "Now we ll go, thank God," said the ex-convict. The 
 freight train went on, and eventually reached Erie before 
 night reached it. 
 
 The rovers decided to let freight trains alone in the 
 future, and ride trains of the better class. They did not 
 write the directors of the road of their decision, but fol 
 lowed it out just the same. 
 
 A saloon was near the yards. They always served the 
 purpose of a wandering vagrant, for he could wash and 
 comb his hair in them at all times. There was never a 
 
196 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 place to wash in the church, nor in the local Y. M. C. A. 
 As one of the Y. M. C. A. officials said to Emmett years 
 later, the purpose of their organization was not to reach 
 out for boys who were down and out, but to keep boys 
 from going down. To Emmett it has always seemed like 
 saving boys from drowning on dry land. But that is a 
 rather vivid story in itself. 
 
 After the rovers had washed and combed their hair, 
 they walked through a small room, where sat a man with 
 his feet in cold water. A half pint of whisky was on 
 a table near him. As they drew near he made the com 
 ment, "Damn near lost the ground creepers, that s what 
 I git for goin to sleep in a box car." His feet were blue 
 and swollen, and every now and then his face would 
 twitch, as though little pins were pricking him. Em- 
 mett s heart was touched, and likewise the heart of the 
 convict, 
 
 "Can we do anything for you, Bo?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "No, thanks, Boes, she s hell with the lid off, but I m 
 a sinner. I seen em froze up in the Klondike Gawd! 
 that was fierce." 
 
 "You ve been in Alaska, too?" asked the ex-convict. 
 
 "Been there! I damn near died there , that s a fine 
 country for ice, but I had no sled." 
 
 "That was tough luck," said the ex-convict. "I ran a 
 faro game up there myself." 
 
 "The hell you did. I hope you had better luck an I had. 
 But I m the original hard luck guy. If it was rainin 
 soup I d be out with a fork." 
 
SNOW BOUND 197 
 
 The man with the frozen feet drank at the ex-convict s 
 expense, and then shared his own bottle with the two 
 floaters. They bade him "good luck" and left him star 
 ing dejectedly at his swollen blue feet. 
 
 As they left the saloon it was impossible to see ten feet 
 ahead. The snow still fell steadily and quietly, like little 
 white feathers settling upon a great white bed. 
 
 They entered a combination saloon and restaurant, and 
 ordered more drinks. When they left each vagabond car 
 ried a pint of liquor in each coat pocket. Even thus pre 
 pared, when the Express came in they hesitated to ride it, 
 but when the engine started eastward they were aboard the 
 train. 
 
 As it rolled along the rails, the recent guest of Colum 
 bus said, "Go easy on the liquor, pal ; you ll feel worse if 
 you drink it all, and it dies out of your system." 
 
 The blanket of snow became heavier and heavier as the 
 train battled through it, until within fifteen miles of Dun 
 kirk the engine could not move another inch. Sand was 
 applied to the tracks as the engine made desperate efforts 
 to travel onward, but all effort was utterly useless. The 
 immense horse had been tied by tiny flakes of snow. 
 
 Hurry calls were sent out and the train crew gathered 
 about the engine, while the whistle screamed like a dying 
 madman being teased to death by white feathers, and 
 then all was quiet. 
 
 None of the crew seemed to feel that even foolhardy 
 youth would be on a blind baggage on such a night, and 
 the rovers were not molested. 
 
198 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 After many hours a snow shovel fought its way to the 
 engine. The track was cleared, and the train went on its 
 way. 
 
 The whisky was gone, and the dreaded stupor was set 
 tling down upon them when Dunkirk was reached, and 
 the convict said, "We d better lay over here, we still have 
 the price of a bed." And then, as they walked to the 
 restaurant, he said, "This is punishment for our sins, eh, 
 pal?" 
 
 "Christ ! we never committed murder," replied Emmett. 
 
 "No, but we re murdering ourselves," said the rover. 
 
 "Yes, but nobody gives a damn about us," was Em- 
 mett s answer, as they entered a restaurant. 
 
 Railroad men loitered inside, and quick conversation ran 
 about the room. Men were instinctively drawn to Em- 
 mett s companion. It may have been the look in his eyes, 
 or the quiet smile ready to break about his lips. At all 
 events, as he told of the episode of the snow, there were 
 more invitations for the two rovers to eat than they could 
 accept. 
 
 "Give the boys a bed for the night then," said a brake- 
 man, when another man paid for the meal. The kind 
 treatment had placed the rovers in fine spirits, and a sally 
 from Emmett brought a general laugh all around, and 
 the way was paved for interesting conversation, which 
 Emmett enjoyed. The man at the counter said to Em 
 mett, as the meal was placed before him, "This life is sure 
 hell, eh, boy!" 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmett, "but old men tell me that the 
 first hundred years are the worst." 
 
SNOW BOUND 199 
 
 "I don t know," said the ex-convict, "some people kick 
 on the last hundred years." 
 
 All was going merrily when a giant Irish policeman 
 strolled into the room. Men were attentively listening to 
 a tale of far ports and strange people that came from the 
 ex-convict s lips. Many preferred to listen to the inter 
 national rover talk in friendly manner rather than go 
 home. The conversation was suddenly stopped when the 
 convict s eyes met those of the policeman but the officer s 
 gaze was one of kindly interest, as he looked at Emmett 
 and asked, "Where ye goin , lad ?" And Emmett lied like 
 a politician. 
 
 "I m going to New York to my mother, she s very ill." 
 He at once began to fumble in his pocket for a letter. 
 "Must have lost the letter," he said. The policeman 
 looked at him keenly. Long experience had made him 
 dubious about sick and dying relatives in far cities. There 
 was a faint twinkle in his eye as he asked, "Where s she 
 live in New York ?" 
 
 "Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street," was the quick 
 reply. The answer was sufficient. 
 
 "Broke ?" asked the policeman. 
 
 "Almost," answered Emmett. 
 
 The big officer threw a half dollar on the counter, and 
 said, "Let s chip in, boys, the kid s either tellin the truth, 
 or he s a damn good liar." A few silver dollars were 
 added to Emmett s earthly treasure. 
 
NEW YORK 
 
 WITH no further adventure save that which makes up the 
 usual hard routine of tramp life, Emmett and his com 
 panion reached New York. Emmett s handsome comrade 
 went with him to a saloon on Chatham Square. It was 
 near the parting of the ways for the two rovers, and a 
 feeling of loneliness came over Emmett which even rot- 
 gut whisky could not banish. The boy needed all his 
 strength now, for well he knew that New York was the 
 loneliest city in the world for the lonely stranger. 
 
 "Well, let s have it over with, pal, I hate to leave you 
 alone, you re a damn white boy. We have to lose many 
 a good bet in this old world, for that s the way the cards 
 come. So long, pal," he said. 
 
 "Wait a minute, let s have one more shot of poison," 
 said Emmett. 
 
 "Well, just one more," replied the ex-convict. 
 
 They had another drink together, and then the hand 
 some adventurer walked out of the saloon, and out of 
 Emmett s life. Emmett watched him for a moment, and 
 choked back a sob that tried hard to rise. The immensity 
 of New York combined with the immeasurable loneliness 
 was appalling. The tears came, but the boy knew that a 
 bar-room was no place for tears. The bartender looked at 
 him, and said, 
 
 200 
 
NEW YORK 201 
 
 "Just hit the Big Town, kid?" 
 
 "Yep," replied Emmett, "just this morning." 
 
 "She s some burg, eh?" 
 
 "Yep, she s some hell of a burg, she s enough to scare 
 a fellow," replied Emmett. 
 
 He threw his last half dollar on the bar, and ordered 
 another drink. The bartender served him and said, 
 
 "I ll set em up, kid, this shot s on me." 
 
 "Well, here s bumps on your head." Emmett swal 
 lowed the drink and said, "Thanks." As he walked 
 toward the door the bartender called after him, "Well, 
 good-by, Old Scout, don t burn up Broadway with that 
 half buck." 
 
 New York was a wanton with a heart of ice. There 
 was none of the warm impulsiveness of Chicago in evi 
 dence. Emmett haunted the Bowery, and the Cooper 
 Union Library was his daily port of call. He read 
 there hour after hour, and the kind-hearted librarians 
 helped him to find books worth while. 
 
 There is more real democracy in an American Public 
 Library than in any other institution in the land. There 
 the woman of refinement waits on the outcast. What man 
 would dare to discount the influence these women had on 
 such men as Henry George and Jack London! When 
 the brilliant London tramped across the nation there was 
 a woman in a Missouri town who talked to him in a 
 library for three hours. When Henry George was writing 
 his epoch-making book, with hunger and destitution gnaw 
 ing at his warm heart, these were the women who helped 
 him. Emmett owes them a debt that black words on 
 
202 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 white paper will never repay. Even to-day, perhaps, a 
 library worker in some far corner of the land is instilling 
 courage in a future George or London. And in ten years 
 from now perhaps her faith will be justified. 
 
 Emmett begged money on the Bowery, where beggars 
 were thicker than citizens. In sheer desperation he went 
 to a Newsboys Home near Forty-fourth Street. He was 
 given a week s free lodging, and orders to find work with 
 in that time. 
 
 Each night the boys gathered in the dining room of the 
 Home and held religious worship under the guidance of 
 the Superintendent. The meetings were always closed 
 with a hymn which reminded Emmett of the bellowing of 
 a sick calf. 
 
 "Oh, where is my wandering boy to-night, 
 The boy of my tenderest care, 
 My heart overflows for I love him he knows, 
 Oh, where is my boy to-night?" 
 
 It was the morning after the fourth meeting when Em 
 mett exercised his right of free speech as a future Amer 
 ican citizen. Not knowing that the Superintendent was 
 within hearing Emmett yelled to another boy, "I m going 
 out and get that wandering boy, and bring him home, for 
 I m getting awful tired of hearing people ask where the 
 devil he is every night." 
 
 The Superintendent appeared from behind the door at 
 the moment and said, "Very well, Mr. Lawler, but when 
 you find him, you had better ask him to pray for your 
 soul. And it strikes me that this Home is no place for a 
 
NEW YORK 203 
 
 boy who ridicules the efforts we are making to bring 
 wandering sheep into the fold." 
 
 Emmett used some shocking words to the good man, 
 and ended by inviting him to take a walk to hell. The 
 good man did not accept the invitation at the time. This 
 was rude of Emmett, but it was also a rude awakening to 
 be thrown again upon the streets of New York City. 
 
 That night the lad helped to form the bread line, that 
 army of derelicts who used to gather nightly in Herald 
 Square, and obtain warm coffee and a piece of bread from 
 a traveling wagon. Sometimes when there were not too 
 many men in line a second helping could be had, but 
 this was seldom. Emmett was in the bread line so often 
 that the giver of bread actually used to exchange gossip 
 with him. 
 
 On bitter cold nights the hot coffee would quickly turn 
 cold in the tin cups. One night the wind howled, and the 
 snow whirled over the city with such fury that few men 
 were in line. 
 
 "It ain t fit for a dog to be out to-night," said the Giver 
 Of Bread. 
 
 "Not a dog that anybody cares for," replied Emmett. 
 
 "No nor any other dog," said the Giver of Bread. 
 
 "I believe you re a good-hearted fellow," said Emmett. 
 
 "If I wasn t," said the Giver of Bread, "I wouldn t 
 freeze my eyebrows off on this bread wagon every night." 
 
 "I never thought of that," said Emmett. 
 
 "Nope, you guys don t think, that s why you re in the 
 bread line." 
 
 "Well, maybe you re right; some day I ll think and 
 
204 . EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 make a million, and wear a dress suit and look like a head 
 waiter. Then I ll give you stale bread to feed the bums, 
 and get all stewed up at Rector s myself." 
 
 "Ain t stale bread good ?" asked the Giver of Bread. 
 
 "Yes, it beats nothing all to the devil, but when I get 
 all smarted up I believe I d like hot biscuits and honey 
 better." 
 
 "That s it," said the Giver of Bread, "give a bum a 
 horse and he d want a saddle." 
 
 "Saddle, hell !" said Emmett, "I d want a carriage." 
 
 He went his way that night after having all the sand 
 wiches and coffee he wanted. The wind that had blown 
 many people ill that night had been a thing of good fortune 
 for Emmett. 
 
 He spent the next day in the Cooper Union Library, 
 where he became interested in reading about Oliver Gold 
 smith. He wondered if there could be a man in New 
 York with a heart as warm as the one which beat in the 
 breast of the roving Irish poet. He dreamed of walking 
 the roads of Europe with Goldsmith, and stopping at 
 doors and begging food with him. It was a pleasant 
 pastime but he soon returned to New York and won 
 dered where he would sleep that night, as he had slept no 
 place the night before. 
 
 Then he wondered if all the Library women had happy 
 homes, and where they all lived, and evening came as he 
 walked into the street and into the arms of stern reality 
 again. 
 
EMMETT TESTIFIES 
 
 HE attended services that night at the Salvation Army 
 Headquarters on the Bowery. Another rover had told 
 him that if he attended regularly he might be able to get 
 an overcoat and a suit from some kind person. The 
 floater added that it is considered good policy to testify to 
 the effect that one had found religion under the roof of the 
 local mission. 
 
 He walked along the Bowery while thoughts of Ohio 
 flooded his mind. A pleasant thrill passed through his 
 thinly clad body when he thought that a letter might be 
 at the post office from Effie. A fat woman stood on the 
 curbing and scratched her shoulder in lively fashion. 
 
 "Lord," said the lad to himself, "she s a woman, just 
 like Effie." Her skirt hung in an uneven manner over 
 shoes through which her toes bulged. Effie stood before 
 him, wearing a gingham apron, and smiled, her white 
 teeth resembling a row of pearls in the moonlight. He 
 felt her head upon his shoulder, while she said, "Don t 
 cry, Emmett, he was a good man," the night the Faith 
 Healer went away from his Ohio heaven. "I d crawl 
 through hell in a paper suit to win Effie, but she shouldn t 
 worry about me now she ll go to college, and own a slice 
 of Van Wert County some day, while I m a roughneck in 
 the breadline. It will be just her luck to marry some 
 
 205 
 
206 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 clodhopper who ll never have brains enough to appreciate 
 her," Emmett thought. "A clodhopper owning Effie," he 
 thought, "would be like a bull having a pearl and diamond 
 inlaid ring in its nose." He was thinking along in this 
 fashion until he met the youth who had advised him to go 
 to the Salvation Mission. The youth had fifty cents and a 
 brain tipsy with liquor. 
 
 "Well, Old Floater," said the youth, "could you stand 
 a shot in the leg?" He leaned heavily on Emmett as he 
 continued, "I got fifty cents that ain t never been spent." 
 
 "You re a life saver," replied Emmett. "I m so thirsty 
 I d kiss a bartender for a drink." 
 
 "We ll go in here to Billy the Bums, and get some 
 drinks, an you can beat it for the Army and testify, and 
 lay it on good an heavy, too. Tell em you re the pope s 
 son over here slummin . I ll sit back an listen, cause I m 
 already saved." 
 
 They had five drinks of whisky each which cost five 
 cents a drink and they were not worth it "For God s 
 sake that s gunpowder and hot water," said Emmett to 
 Billy the Bum. 
 
 "Well, listen," said Billy the Bum, "go right around the 
 corner on Hester Street, and you kin buy a distillery for 
 a penny !" 
 
 As they started to leave Billy said, "Hey, Red! speak 
 that piece you spoke the other day and I ll buy a coupla 
 drinks myself." 
 
 "That s a go," said Emmett, and he stood in the middle 
 of the sawdust floor, while derelicts gathered all about 
 him, and recited "The Face on the Bar-Room Floor." 
 
EMMETT TESTIFIES 207 
 
 The lines had a vivid effect on the drink-soaked brains, 
 and as Emmett said, 
 
 "I was an artist, sir, not one of them that daubed wood 
 But an artist who in my day was rated pretty good," 
 
 the men formed in a ring about him. Then he continued, 
 
 "And I ll draw for you the picture of the woman that drove me 
 mad." 
 
 He went through the motions of drawing a picture on 
 the sawdust floor. Billy the Bum was completely carried 
 away, as Emmett and the five-cent whisky drew the pic 
 ture. Have mercy on Emmett, that whisky would have 
 made an auctioneer think he was a Robert Ingersoll. 
 
 When Emmett had finished there was a lively demon 
 stration. Stray dimes rolled on the bar from stray cor 
 ners in derelicts pockets. Emotion ruled here, to hell 
 with logic. What had walking the streets at night to do 
 with verse that took a fellow away from himself? Said 
 Billy the Bum, "Say, Red, you re a darn smart little 
 tramp, how kin you remember all that stuff?" and Emmett 
 felt as proud as a floorwalker at a Hodcarriers Picnic. 
 
 "I know another one," said he, "a peacherino. I wrote 
 it myself." 
 
 "Let s hear it," said Billy the Bum, "take a coupla shots 
 first." 
 
 Then Emmett recited "A Woman s Virtue" with deadly 
 effect, and with magnificent eloquence like the red 
 headed Shakespeare tearing off a sonnet between drinks 
 in a tavern, while Ben Jonson listened. 
 
208 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 All eyes in the brilliant audience grew damp, and tears 
 fell like rain upon the sawdust floor. Billy the Bum 
 used the bar-rag to wipe away the hot tears that surged 
 from his manly heart. 
 
 Emmett s audience proclaimed his effort a masterpiece, 
 but one old derelict, who had once been a newspaper re 
 porter, told him that it was so much junk, but mum was 
 the word as far as he was concerned. The old fellow did 
 tell the boy to keep on trying, and he might write some 
 thing some day. Emmett s opening lines were emotional 
 bombs that exploded under every heart but that of the 
 old reporter : 
 
 "As I lie here thinking sadly of the days that s gone and past, 
 My thoughts go back to a woman, for my thoughts are going 
 
 fast, 
 
 With a form like Milo Venus, most beautiful to see , 
 And I can say it truly an angel the side o me." 
 
 Thus the stage was set for the heart-rending climax : 
 
 "But alas one day while drinking, with passion in my brain , 
 I stole a kiss one morning and then a life of pain ," 
 
 Emmett did not say whether the girl had the life of pain, 
 or he but the kind audience supposed it was the girl. 
 The old reporter said, "Say, Boy, that must of been a hell 
 of a kiss." 
 
 "Gosh Almighty!" said another old mendicant, "how 
 kin you think up things like that?" 
 
 "Oh, they just come to me," replied Emmett. 
 
 Billy the Bum said, "Say, Kid, that s sure heart-ren- 
 
EMMETT TESTIFIES 209 
 
 dering ; I wish I could write them things, I d send em to 
 the magazines. The Police Gazette d be tickled to publish 
 a piece like that." 
 
 "Well, come on," said the other youth, "we don t want 
 to be late for the service." 
 
 Men sat on rude benches while the Conductor of the 
 Meeting talked from a poorly constructed pulpit. The 
 odor of stale tobacco and unwashed bodies reeking with 
 five-cent whisky filled the room. Emmett and his com 
 panion walked up near the pulpit. 
 
 The Conductor stopped talking, and the singing began. 
 Emmett s brain was in a jar of alcohol, but drunk or 
 sober, he was always more or less impressed with any 
 kind of singing, from the maudlin to the sublime, and he 
 sat very still, while the wayfarers of life sang, 
 
 "Bringing in the sheaves, Lord, bringing in the sheaves, 
 We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves." 
 
 Emmett burst forth in song, but his comrade punched 
 him in the side and said, "Lord Sakes, shut up, you can t 
 carry a tune in a bucket." 
 
 "The hell I can t," replied Emmett. 
 
 The Conductor ended the song abruptly, and then said, 
 "We will now sing the Ninety and Nine/ and will those 
 who can t sing please refrain from trying." 
 
 They sang about the one sheep that wandered from the 
 fold, "and one was out on the hills away." Emmett felt 
 certain that he was that wandering sheep, but he dared not 
 sing about it. And then began the giving of testimony. 
 
210 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 At a nudge from his friend, Emmett arose, and with 
 memories of Solomon Soaroff, he gave testimony con 
 cerning the goodness of God that made the wastrels for 
 get cold weather and filthy clothes, and carried them away 
 to a Harold Bell Wright world where angels bumped their 
 heads on silver stairways, and saints walked the golden 
 streets with harlots who were virgins once again, having 
 been washed in the blood of the lamb. 
 
 There was never such hypocritical eloquence under the 
 dome of heaven. Emmett cast off sin as if it were an 
 unclean thing, and unworthy the notice of an honest tramp 
 to whom a just God had been more than kind. 
 
 From now on he intended to walk in the footsteps of 
 Moses. He had but little idea why he talked of Moses, 
 but then he thought the audience must have all heard of 
 him. He flew back on the wings of memory to the Revela 
 tion of St. John, and he, too, predicted the end of the 
 world for the unrighteous. The good were to live on 
 and all one had to do was to be pious, and bread lines 
 would vanish, and cold nights would become warm, and 
 every heartache would be soothed by dark-haired girls 
 with dreamy eyes, and skin as white as milk. 
 
 When the testimony was completed, Emmett sat down 
 like a man who had defied a nation with a sentence. The 
 Conductor came from the platform and grasped his hand, 
 and greeted his new-found brother in Christ. 
 
 Judas must have felt like a happy girl on her wedding 
 day in comparison with Emmett at this moment, for the 
 Conductor s sincerity was beyond question the greatest 
 thing in his life. 
 
EMMETT TESTIFIES 211; 
 
 It would not do to expose a new-found brother to the 
 temptations of a winter night, even though it was too cold 
 to commit sin. A bed was fixed for Emmett, and the 
 sheep that had wandered over bare hills had found a green 
 pasture at last. 
 
THE CONDUCTOR 
 
 THE Conductor was a strange blending of water and 
 milk, and a streak of stronger stuff. The Maker whom 
 he worshiped had played him a cruel trick, but like a de 
 voted woman who is ever faithful, he was true to him. 
 And to his credit being true to him, he managed to serve 
 humanity, or that submerged portion of it who live in 
 neither the valleys nor the mountains, but in the gutters 
 where the reeking stenches roll. 
 
 It might be said that he had no chin at all, as it merged 
 into his throat. His teeth were large, and set apart, pro 
 truding over his lower lip. The merged chin and throat 
 seemed to give greater strength to the vocal chords, for 
 his voice was powerful, and could be heard even above 
 the roar of the elevated trains. A strand of hair stretched 
 across the bald top of his head, like a dark river rolling 
 through a white field. 
 
 He had found his Maker in the hills of West Virginia, 
 during the one time in his fifty years that he had ever been 
 out of New York City. He had been a foundling, that 
 had never known girl love nor woman love in his half 
 century along a dreary road. Literature and art had 
 never opened their doors to him, nor had human nature 
 and the weird wonder of life taught him either the great 
 ness or the nothingness of it. 
 
 212 
 
THE CONDUCTOR 213 
 
 He had never felt the caress of a woman, nor the slight 
 est touch of red lips upon his weak mouth. Those com 
 plex creatures who love and hate in the slums of the cities 
 had never tempted the man at all. But the love of some 
 thing human had to be in his life, so he devoted it to the 
 attempted saving of his blear-eyed kind. A hard task 
 indeed. 
 
 Long after Emmett was sound asleep, the Conductor 
 sat in the now deserted hall of the Mission. The fire 
 in the boy s testimony had scorched his soul, and his 
 voice still echoed over the room, and as the arch hypocrite 
 slept, the words which he had thrown lightly upon the 
 stale air had formed themselves into silver sentences, and 
 marched in paragraphs before the Conductor s gaze. 
 
 The crowd had deserted the Bowery, and it was now 
 almost as quiet as a lonesome street in a small town. 
 Peace came down with dirty cloak, and covered the fol 
 lower of the auburn-haired agitator with a calm that 
 passeth understanding. He had never touched the gar 
 ment hem of imagination, and now, for the first time, he 
 wondered about a human being. 
 
 From what misty place had the red-headed boy drifted? 
 He surely must have a mother, and he had read the Bible. 
 He was not a boy from New York, that much he knew, 
 for his speech was clear, and had no touch of slang. How 
 fine It would be to train the boy to exhort other wayfarers 
 into the light! He might even assist him to become a 
 minister, for he had youth, and could talk with fluent 
 sincerity. At this new-found possibility the Conductor 
 glowed with satisfaction. 
 
2i 4 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 He arose and went to the dormitory, where slept his 
 weary charges. Emmett was sound asleep. His red 
 curls were buried in the white pillow, and in the weak 
 light on the dormitory wall, they resembled the curls of 
 his dead and gone mother. 
 
 The Conductor looked down at the sleeping boy, and 
 placed his hand upon his forehead. "My new-found 
 brother in Christ," he said, and slowly walked to his own 
 bed. 
 
HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 
 
 FOR many mornings thereafter Emmett received fifty 
 cents from the Conductor. Ever in rebellion against 
 everything, the cloak of hypocrisy weighed heavily upon 
 him. At last, one morning, he went to his friend and 
 told him of his decision to go away. The good man 
 pleaded, but Emmett had his way, and after hearing from 
 his friend that the doors were always open for his return 
 the lad faced the streets again. 
 
 He was but dimly aware of the fact then that Marx was 
 right when he said that the economic factor came into 
 everything. It had even made him a hypocrite. 
 
 He fell in line at Herald Square at nine that evening. 
 The weather was at the zero point a cold, punishing 
 night. The Giver of Bread greeted him with, "Hello, 
 Kid, where you. been?" 
 
 "Oh, I took a little run up the Hudson to my country 
 home." 
 
 "Freights run by there?" 
 
 "Nope, I went in my carriage." 
 
 In the bread line stood a young fellow in a soldier uni 
 form, with whom he engaged in conversation. Before 
 their coffee became cold in the tin cups they hit upon the 
 mutual scheme of going to the Municipal Lodging House 
 for the night. 
 
 215 
 
216 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 They found the place on Twenty-third Street, as un 
 inviting a hole as ever a stray dog hunted. They were 
 greeted by a heavy jowled man who looked like an ex- 
 policeman, grown too fat and old for work. He had 
 the coarse expression of a man long used to the sensual 
 things of life. 
 
 He half grunted, "Ho, ho ! what freight s in now ?" as 
 the boys drew near. The uniform on the Hungry De 
 fender of the Nation was not even noticed by him. He 
 grudgingly led the arrivals to a dining room. This room 
 was as bare as a pine board. Rude tables, stained with 
 chicory, stretched across it. 
 
 Pine benches, built in the form of lesser tables, were 
 near them. Another fat face looked through a hole in 
 the wall, through which a fat hand later shoved two bowls 
 of chicory and two hunks of bread. The first heavy in 
 dividual sat down in a chair and grunted a snatch of a 
 song until the youths had finished the dainty luncheon. 
 He seemed bored with the endless routine of waiting on 
 beggars. When the lads had finished the man waddled 
 to the head of the stairs, and called to some one below, 
 
 "Hey ! come on up and git these bums." 
 
 Up the stairs came a weak individual whose every move 
 ment apologized for the gift of life. As the pitiful 
 specimen of decadent manhood approached, the ex-soldier 
 mumbled, "Holy Christ !" under his breath. 
 
 Strong youth followed weak manhood down the stairs. 
 The withered man took the youths to a room below and 
 bade them remove all their clothing, and also to remove 
 any letters or papers from their pockets. 
 
HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 217 
 
 "Bum come in ere with a dollar bill one time, and the 
 fumigation hate hit up in is pocket. Served im bloody 
 well right." The Apology for the gift of life was a cock 
 ney trying to speak the English language. 
 
 He gathered their clothing in a heap under his arm 
 and led them into another room. In this room sat an old 
 man near a tub of soft soap that resembled lard. His 
 face was exactly like the faces Emmett had seen of 
 witches riding broom sticks in fairy tales. Emmett s 
 strong, naked body recoiled from him as from a thing 
 unclean. 
 
 A leer was indelibly stamped upon his face as he sat on 
 a low stool and held a wooden paddle in his hand. 
 
 "Here, here," he snarled, as he dipped the paddle in the 
 tub and brought forth soap upon the end of it. Emmett 
 scraped it from the paddle and walked under the shower. 
 His companion followed him. 
 
 Through the falling water the old wretch- could be seen 
 reseating himself upori the stool in the manner of a lately 
 disturbed hyena looking for a place to lie down. As he 
 stocfd up Emmett noticed that he was bent almost double, 
 and now he sat in that position and gazed at his tub of 
 soap. There was a sickening odor about the place, and 
 Emmett, ever with the delicate nostrils of a bloodhound, 
 became dreadfully sick. Life s Apology led them to the 
 dormitory, while Emmett leaned upon the friendly arm 
 of the young soldier, as they walked up the two flights 
 of stairs. 
 
 Beds, called "doubledeckers," were in this room, one 
 bed on top of another. Emmett slept in the bed above, 
 
218 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 and the soldier from the American Army slept below. 
 
 At six in the morning they returned to the cellar and 
 donned their wrinkled clothes. After another bowl of 
 chicory and a hunk of bread they inhaled the clean air of 
 the street again. It was said that if a vagrant went three 
 nights in succession to the Municipal Lodging House he 
 would be sent to Blackwell s Island to serve a term for 
 being poor. 
 
 "Any saphead who d go there a second time deserves 
 a year in Sing Sing," was the soldier s comment. 
 
 "A year would be too short," said Emmett, as they 
 stopped to survey themselves. The soldier s uniform had 
 as many wrinkles in it. as there are waves in the ocean. 
 Emmett laughed at the appearance he made until the 
 tears came to his eyes. 
 
 "To hell with the wrinkles," said the soldier, "the 
 wind ll blow them out." 
 
 "Your suit ll be carpet rags before the wind blows 
 those wrinkles out." 
 
 "There you go," said the soldier, "hanging crepe. Was 
 your dad a grave digger? Let s hunt breakfast." 
 
 "That s a peach of an idea," said Emmett, "and I know 
 where to go for it." 
 
 There was a man on Twenty th Street who devoted 
 
 his life to giving the hungry youths of the city a small 
 silver piece each morning of the year. Emmett had heard 
 of him, and went directly to his house. At least thirty 
 boys were waiting in front of the red brick home. He 
 did not meet the boys personally, but they were obliged 
 to tell their tale of woe through a small elevator shaft. 
 
HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 219 
 
 The man, after hearing Emmett s story and his name, said, 
 "All right, Emmett, wait a minute," and soon twenty-five 
 cents came down in a paper envelope, upon which was 
 written his name. In this way the man started the day 
 right for many a hungry lad, 
 
 Emmett has always remembered him, and there must 
 be thousands of other boys who remember him also. 
 There should be a future life, for a kind heart should 
 never stop beating. 
 
 "I just thought of a new wrinkle," said the soldier, 
 after they had eaten in a Greek restaurant. 
 
 "You don t need any new wrinkles," said Emmett. 
 
 "No, but this one will help us out. We can go over to 
 Jersey City, and wait for the people to get off the trains 
 and run for the ferry. They always buy papers, and get 
 pennies back in change. We can bum the spare pennies 
 from them, and tell em we lack just two to take us to 
 New York. They ll be in a hurry and will slip us the 
 brass things with George s mug on em. I know a guy 
 i who got eighty cents that way once. It only took him 
 a half a day." 
 
 "For God s sake," said Emmett, "he d a better got a 
 job." 
 
 They followed the plan until they had more than sixty 
 cents each. Then the ungrateful vagrants cheated the 
 ferry owners out of six cents by stealing a ride back 
 to New York. 
 
 When they reached the city again Emmett suddenly 
 thought of the letters that might be waiting for him at the 
 post office. With a sense of shame it came to him that 
 
220 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 perhaps the letters had been returned. He hurried at once 
 to the General Delivery window and asked the clerk if 
 there was any mail for Emmett Alexander Lawler. With 
 rapidly beating heart he waited while the clerk ran the 
 many letters through his hand as a gambler looks at 
 cards. He separated one from the pile and then another 
 and threw the paper missives of happiness toward the 
 penny beggar. Emmett walked away from the window 
 with joy pounding at his heart. 
 
 The soldier looked interested, "Gee, swell envelopes, 
 you must know rich people." 
 
 "I should say so," replied Emmett. "I know a barrel 
 of rich people." 
 
 "Well, so long, Kid. I gotta beat it. Hope you always 
 get butter on your bread." 
 
 "Thanks, old boy, butter and jelly on yours, I hope." 
 
 The man with the wrinkled clothing walked out of the 
 house of the Nation for which he had been willing to die. 
 The soldier s neck bulged above the wrinkled coat that 
 held his muscular shoulders. Emmett thought for a mo 
 ment of the lad from Columbus, and then he read the 
 name of Emmett Alexander Lawler on a gray envelope 
 that a thousand-mile journey had not robbed of its per 
 fume. The name "Effie Ramsay" was in one corner. 
 
 He opened Effie s letter at once, and it started "Dear 
 Boy" : It gave him all the news of his beloved country. 
 The people of the county had placed a monument over the 
 Faith Healer s grave, and thousands of little children had 
 strewn daisies all about it. Reverend Wirls, now a mem 
 ber of the Legislature, had made a speech again at the 
 
HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 221 
 
 grave. Every one had asked about Emmett. She had 
 graduated at the Van Wert High School, and had gone to 
 Oberlin for a summer term. When would he ever return 
 to Ohio? My! New York must be a wonderful place 
 and she felt sure that Emmett would make a name there. 
 She wanted him to come to Van Wert County soon. She 
 called her bulldog Emmett, Jr., and her riding horse 
 Emmett, Sr. ! "Fine combination," Emmett thought. 
 
 She asked him to remember that the latch-string was 
 always outside on the Ramsay door for Emmett Lawler. 
 Ivy was no more. Solomon Soaroff had cried at her 
 funeral. A week before her death she had asked Effie 
 where Emmett was. Her daddy was going to run for 
 Congress. Her mother had bought her oodles of new 
 clothes some new aprons, too or the material for 
 them. And the letter went on and on in dainty feminine 
 hand. "How could any one write so small," thought Em 
 mett. "Why, she must have written with a pin." 
 
 New York was a happy town for Emmett, and the 
 sixty cents jingled in his pocket like the wealth of Midas. 
 
 A beggar disturbed his happiness, "Say, Mister, could 
 you slip- me a nickel for some Java and rolls?" 
 
 "Sure," said Emmett, "I ll go ninety-ten with you 
 here s a dime. But where the devil do you get that Mister 
 stuff?" Emmett then told him about the method of get 
 ting penhies at Jersey City. 
 
 "Oh, it s a hell uv a ways over there," said the beggar. 
 
 "Well, I ll be damned," said the offended Emmett. 
 "Some of you guys won t work when you get a chance." 
 But his competitor was out of hearing. 
 
222 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Vivian wrote a letter that was hard to read, but inter 
 woven with the scrawl was the sincerity of her heart. 
 Vivian scrawled like a hen gone mad with a fountain pen. 
 She told him that Lake Michigan was as blue as ever. 
 "Vivian was surely crazy about that lake," thought Em- 
 mett and then "New York may be fine but how can 
 you ever stay away from Chi-town if you want to come 
 back I ll try and get you part of the fare." 
 
 "Taking her dough would be a dirty Irish trick," thought 
 Emmett. "Well, it might not be so bad," he thought, "but 
 part of the fare would only get me part of the way I 
 better beat it when I go. Viv s a good apple, though." 
 
 Emmett placed the letters in his pocket and walked 
 straight to the Mission. Men loitered in City Hall Park in 
 the same old way, but somehow they looked different to 
 the boy to whom two women had written. 
 
 When Emmett reached the Mission the Conductor 
 greeted him as the father of old may not have greeted his 
 prodigal son. He placed his arm about the boy and 
 chatted with him in the most friendly manner. Emmett 
 felt a tinge of love for him at this moment that all the 
 years between have never completely driven from his 
 heart. 
 
 "Let me read you a nice letter," said he to the brave 
 shepherd of dirty Bowery sheep. "It s from a girl in 
 Ohio." He read Effie s letter aloud to the Conductor. 
 
 "What a splendid girl she must be," said the man as the 
 letter was finished. 
 
 "I ll say she is," said the boy ; "you ought to see her 
 she looks nicer in a gingham apron than most girls do in 
 
HYPOCRISY VANQUISHED 223 
 
 a hundred-dollar dress. But her dad dresses her fine, 
 too. She goes to Lima for her clothes, with her mother." 
 
 "Is Lima a large place?" asked the New Yorker. 
 
 "Well," replied the boy, "it s not quite as large as New 
 York. For all Ohio ain t got any more people than this 
 burg has." 
 
 "Just think of that," said the New Yorker, in a tone of 
 pity for Ohio. 
 
 "That s all right," said the Buckeye, "there s a lot of 
 people here you shouldn t count. Besides, Oh, Hell! 
 none of these people are satisfied." 
 
 "Emmett, dear boy, are you swearing again ?" 
 
 "No that was a slip," replied the arch-hypocrite. 
 
 "I have good news for you," said the Conductor. "I 
 have a call to-day to go and bring five suits of clothes 
 to the Mission. It came from out Central Park way. 
 You can go along with me to-morrow, and you can have 
 the suit that comes nearest to fitting you." 
 
 "Thanks ever so much," was the grateful reply, "I 
 certainly need a suit, I look like a scarecrow, this thing is 
 faded all to hell." 
 
 "Be careful, Emmett, you are entirely too fluent," was 
 the mild reproof. 
 
HYPOCRISY REWARDED 
 
 AT nine the next morning two pilgrims walked along 
 Fifth Avenue in the bright winter sunshine. The Con 
 ductor often walked to far parts of the city, and he would 
 hum religious songs as he walked. 
 
 Thwarted and repressed, a Dead Sea, to which no in 
 tellectual river flowed , a Walker in the Desert ever 
 facing the Great Mirage, the Conductor still lived in a 
 Kingdom not of this earth. 
 
 Men live by thrills, wrote the brilliant William James, 
 and the Conductor s thrill in life was the shouting of 
 songs from the Bowery curbing, and sheltering stray sheep 
 for the night. 
 
 As they walked near the Sherman monument a limou 
 sine passed them, and out of the polished window gazed a 
 dog with a pink ribbon around its neck. Emmett noticed 
 the fine lady who held the dog, as she stared straight 
 ahead, as though she were a saint passing through hell 
 and not wishing to speak to the inhabitants. He forgot 
 his testimony, and asserted himself. 
 
 "That s a hell of a note," he said to the Conductor, 
 "that dog has it nicer than I have. Why does everybody 
 say they are treated like dogs ? They d better say they re 
 treated like tramp kids." 
 
 224 
 
HYPOCRISY REWARDED 225 
 
 "I know, it looks wrong," said the good man, "that so 
 many hungry children should be in the city, but you know 
 that God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to per 
 form." Emmett thought for a moment, and then, at the 
 risk of losing the badly needed suit he exclaimed, 
 
 "Damn mysterious. It s all the bunk absolutely. 
 Who the hell is God? Does he hate Irish kids, and their 
 mother?" 
 
 "No, no," replied the Conductor. "In fact the Kingdom 
 of Heaven is made up of little children." 
 
 "Little hell," said Emmett, "were you ever in an Or 
 phan Asylum?" 
 
 "No," replied the Conductor, "not exactly an Orphan 
 Asylum." 
 
 "Well, I was," said Emmett, "and I ve seen kids die, 
 too. They used to lay them in the chapel after they 
 croaked. I suppose they folded their hands so s they 
 could thank God in death for death in an Orphans 
 Home." 
 
 "You will never be happy as long as you feel the way 
 you do about things," said the Conductor. "The sinful 
 are punished and the good are rewarded in a future life." 
 
 "Then God gives the fat bishop his wine, and the shop 
 girl the blues, and she gives her body to the floorwalker, 
 maybe, so s he might help her get a dollar a week raise. 
 I wish I d thrown a brick at that damn dog and woman. \ 
 She s worse than the dog, the damn bum. By God, I 
 will share up. This whole damn business is wrong. She 
 ain t done as much in this world as I have." The young 
 hypocrite was a man for the moment. 
 
226 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Why, Emmett," asked the Conductor, "has the devil 
 taken possession of you?" 
 
 "Hell, no!" replied Emmett, "I m one of God s little 
 cherubs, daubed out of the picture. By God ! I ll bet that 
 woman ain t worthy to wipe my mother s coffin." The 
 Conductor placed his hand upon the boy s shoulder as if to 
 calm him, as they stood near the statue of the grim 
 Sherman. 
 
 "Sherman said war was hell. Life s hell also," said the 
 boy. 
 
 "Well, suppose you should die and meet God, then 
 what would you do, or say?" asked the Conductor, as he 
 removed his red cap and stroked the small river of dark 
 hair on his head. 
 
 "Well, I d say, Hello, God ! you surely passed me the 
 raspberries. Then he d get all sored up, and I d say, 
 Why, even you re so-called Beloved Son asked you why 
 you d deserted him. Why you desert even the boobs who 
 believe in you, and they re too blind to see it/ Then I d 
 recite him some verses I wrote one time about his fat 
 bishops and deacons, and that tribe who believe in him, 
 how 
 
 They croak like ravens near a well, 
 At men who dare to speak the truth, 
 They suck the blood and leave the shell 
 And trample on the heart of youth 
 
 and I d tell him that, 
 
 They place a genius on a rack 
 His most complex and gifted son, 
 They tear his soul like an empty sack, 
 And lay the pieces in the sun. 
 
HYPOCRISY REWARDED 227 
 
 When Emmett had finished the horrified Conductor again 
 removed his cap and stroked the wisp of hair. 
 
 "Did you write those verses?" asked he. 
 
 "Yes, I meant to mail them to God, but I lost his ad 
 dress." 
 
 The Conductor was not irritated at the attitude taken 
 by Emmett. He placed a kindly hand on his shoulder as 
 he rang the bell at the given number, and said, 
 
 "As long as people are sincere and kind in this world, 
 nothing else matters. If you talked to God that way, he 
 might even respect you for it. But you ll admit that it s 
 a big job, for one God, won t you?" 
 
 "Yes, but he loafs on the job," replied Emmett. 
 
 Just then a woman appeared at the door with the 
 clothes, among which was a suit that almost fitted Emmett. 
 They rode back to the Bowery where a Russian Jew tailor 
 remodeled the suit, the Conductor paying him a dollar for 
 so doing. Thus Emmett was attired in an expensive suit, 
 which shone like the headlight on an engine, but which 
 passed for almost new in Emmett s circle. 
 
 Then came St. Patrick s day, the seventeenth of M arch. 
 There never was a more beautiful morning. White clouds 
 dotted a sky as blue as the Mediterranean on a calm June 
 day. Spring came almost unheralded and trailed zephyrs 
 through the congested hives of men, and made them 
 respond to the glory of it like fame-mad poets singing 
 on the way to battle. 
 
 Factory laborers, weary of soul-crushing routine, sweat 
 shop girls, dreaming of a Robert W. Chambers hero whose 
 touch would make their weary bodies thrill with new 
 
228 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 life, jaded owners of country estates, pickpockets with 
 long fingers and ferret eyes, men and women all, with 
 crushed, distorted lives and unrealized ideals felt the 
 magic of renewed life and gazed with longing eyes at the 
 hazy ether, like prisoners who look through bars at some 
 far-off land of beginning again, when they know they are 
 shut in forever. 
 
 New York for the first time seemed as human as Chi 
 cago to Emmett. And as one leaves a woman, whom he 
 fears he will learn to love, the boy from Broken Moun 
 tain was anxious to be gone. 
 
TROUBLE 
 
 ONE thing stood in the way his parting with the Con 
 ductor. Try as he would, he could not muster courage 
 to tell him. He had been so thoroughly decent, he had 
 still been kind when Emmett had ridiculed everything 
 which he held dear "and God knows," thought Emmett, 
 "his life had been no bed of roses either." He hid a pain- 
 shriveled heart also, and he drank no rare wine, nor 
 walke d on velvet stairs, nor had he been surrounded and 
 complimented on a worthless sermon by superficial 
 women who wore thick glasses when they were forced to 
 lodk at life. 
 
 He walked up and down the Bowery, and suddenly 
 thought of writing a letter to his friend ! "He could write 
 better than he talked," he thought, for had he not always 
 won the prize in the Home for composition? He bought 
 pa per and envelope and walked to the Cooper Union Li 
 brary. One of the kind women, who had been his friend 
 in the library, came up to talk to him a rare human 
 angel she was who had spent the best years of her pul 
 sating life in a wilderness of dead dreams. When his 
 letter had been finished, he bade good-by to the women 
 in the library, and walked out and mailed it. 
 
 He paid his fare to Yonkers, where he waited for a 
 
 229 
 
230 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 train going west. As he waited, he thought how pleased 
 the Conductor might be with the letter. Many a bishop 
 had not been told that he was Christ s real brother. 
 
 A freight of empty cattle cars came rolling along. The 
 boy swung into an empty car, and was left alone with 
 the odor of departed cattle all the way to Albany. The 
 crew saw him on the train, but spring had thawed their 
 hearts, and they walked blithely past him, as a dining car 
 passes a hungry tramp. The Hudson looked like silver 
 poured across a beautiful valley. The odor of cattle was 
 forgotten, as the boy sat in the door and watched the 
 magic scenery. 
 
 When Emmett reached Albany he strolled down to the 
 Salvation Army Headquarters, but the club of an Irish 
 policeman convinced him that he was mistaken in think 
 ing he had the freedom of the city. He soon felt that he 
 did not like Albany any too well anyhow, so he sneaked 
 past the gateman at the station, and was soon on his way 
 west with the March night gathering about him. 
 
 The spring day turned into a cold night. The contrast 
 would have been no greater had Effie faded into an old 
 woman within a few hours. 
 
 He stood on the Limited Train between the coal tender 
 and the first car, and his thoughts flew with the speed of 
 the train at seventy miles an hour. 
 
 And as he thought, a miniature Niagara flowed over 
 him from the water tank above. In less than a minute 
 every stitch of clothing on him was soaking wet. 
 
 The cold contact of the water startled him, but with 
 presence of mind he clutched the iron ladder and held 
 
TROUBLE 231 
 
 on to keep from falling beneath the wheels. In another 
 moment his clothes were caked with thin ice. 
 
 There was nothing to do but stand it until the next stop. 
 For "standing the gaff" was one thing a young tramp had 
 to learn, who dared to ride mail trains. He resolved to 
 watch for the trough between the rails from which the 
 water was scooped into the tank. He had known that all 
 fast trains take water "on the fly," but in his haste to 
 leave Albany he had forgotten it. 
 
 He waited patiently in frozen clothes until he saw the 
 trough, and he then climbed down on the side of the 
 swaying tender until the tank would fill and overflow. 
 But again he reckoned without the wind, which the flying 
 train made travel at a great velocity. 
 
 Again the water fell all over him, and the desperate lad 
 then crawled up the iron ladder and over the coal into the 
 engine cab. It was a last wild impulse and was only 
 actuated by a trying situation, as tramps never mingle with 
 railroad men while they are on duty. 
 
 The engineer had his eyes on the white rails as the 
 giant engine swayed sideways and lurched onward and 
 onward. The fireman looked around and saw the boy 
 crawling toward him like a drowning rat, and he at once 
 left his seat. He had coal to shovel first, and as he 
 opened the door of the fire-box, the light shone back, and 
 then engineer and fireman looked at the water dripping 
 from the boy s clothes. The boy stood near the engineer s 
 knee, while he held his big hand on the throttle that con 
 trolled the iron monster as it thundered and thundered 
 through the night. 
 
232 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 The engineer took his glance from the steel rails ahead, 
 and yelled to the fireman, "Put the kid up in front of you," 
 and then he turned his eyes to the gray rails again. 
 
 The fireman had the boy lie down in front of his seat 
 against the boiler of the engine. He was warm and dry 
 when the train reached Syracuse and rolled through the 
 heart of the town. 
 
 "We change engines here, kid," said the fireman, "do 
 you want to come and eat with me ?" 
 
 "Gee, I d like to, but I d rather beat it on out if I can," 
 replied Emmett. Before the train reached the station he 
 bade his good friends good-by, and left it. He waited un 
 til it was ready to go out again but he did not go with it. 
 
 He was arrested for vagrancy and attempting to board 
 a train, and many other terrible charges. The cells of the 
 jail were all full, so Emmett lay on top of one of them, 
 in the room, in which strong lights burned all night. An 
 army of cockroaches marched in single and double file all 
 over the ceiling and walls of the place. Emmett amused 
 himself watching them, and kept saying, "Hip-hip-hipa, 
 the hipa, the hip" while the marching roaches swung into 
 different positions. 
 
 A drunken reveler, locked in a cell, shouted wild song 
 below. 
 
 "If you don t keep still, you drunken devil, I ll come 
 down and slap hell out of you," said the taunter on top 
 of his cell. The enraged drunkard could no more get out 
 than Emmett could get in his cell, but he shook the bars 
 in violence. Emmett teased him until sleep overtook 
 drunkard and vagrant boy, and they closed their eyes 
 
TROUBLE 233 
 
 upon the marching cockroaches and the hot lights till 
 morning. 
 
 When morning came Emmett stood before the Justice 
 of the Peace to face trial. The Justice was a small man 
 who attached large importance to himself. The police 
 asked the boy many questions about imaginary crimes 
 they seemed certain he had committed. One brave official 
 with only a revolver on his person, and only twice as 
 large as Emmett, slapped him in the face when the Irish 
 boy told him that anybody could pinch a tramp kid without 
 a dime. 
 
 "Here! that s wrong," said another policeman, as the 
 hot blood surged to Emmett s face. 
 
 "You re damn right, it s wrong. And I can lick the big 
 stiff too in a stand-up fight. The Judge could give me 
 life for what I think of him," said Emmett as he marched 
 to face the Judge. 
 
 "Emmett Lawler," said the Justice, upon whose shoul 
 ders rested the mantle of John Marshall, "you are charged 
 with vagrancy, and loitering upon railroad property. 
 Guilty or not guilty." 
 
 "Guilty, your Honor," answered Emmett. 
 
 "Ten days in the County Jail," said the Mighty Jurist. 
 
 Emmett spent the next ten days with people charged 
 with such light crimes as murder and arson. One huge 
 negro was charged with rape. The negro was as crazy as 
 a drunken prohibitionist, and raved continually about re 
 ligion in the manner of the Right Reverend William 
 Sunday. 
 
 The colored gentleman owned a Bible, which Emmett 
 
234 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 borrowed and read during the first three days. And he 
 enjoyed it also. Then a kind hearted jailer gave him 
 some Police Gazettes, and when they were read he ob 
 tained for him some Atlantic Monthly s and Harper s. 
 
 The colored woman-hound said that the sheriff fur 
 nished the grub and made a profit on it. Emmett be 
 lieved it. The coffee was blacker than the negro s hair, 
 and weaker than his mind. The meat was the odor of 
 the embalmed stuff the soldiers ate in Cuba, and it may 
 possibly have been some of it. The soup was compli 
 mented at being called such a splendid name. 
 
 Emmett s crime was not considered as desperate as the 
 negro s, and he was allowed to walk about the corridor of 
 the jail. The conditions in the jail were very sanitary, as 
 Emmett did not have to lay his head on any of the plumb 
 ing. That had thoughtfully been placed a foot away from 
 his cot. 
 
 Emmett gave the negro his soup every day. Men 
 should not be too fastidious in Beggar Land, but true 
 aristocrats are born, and Emmett really wished the negro 
 to have the soup. For he deserved punishment. But he 
 thought he was saved and expected to go to heaven. 
 
 Emmett did not cry when the tenth day arrived. He 
 was really glad. He was released and given his few be 
 longings, and warned not to beg within the confines of the 
 city, and to hasten on his way. Emmett wondered why 
 if they wanted him to hurry at this time, they had detained 
 him ten days. 
 
 Some future time, the shades of Spencer, Schopenhauer, 
 
TROUBLE 235 
 
 Blackstone, Webster and Lecky, with fifty others, will 
 try to solve the problem of American Law. After fifty 
 meetings they will return to the World of Shades in dis 
 gust. Old Schopenhauer will sit in the lap of a blonde 
 angel with great wings, while she reads his "Essay on 
 Women" aloud. 
 
 That night Emmett tried to ride west again with the 
 very best of luck. He stood between the second and third 
 car of the limited mail train this time, for though he had 
 not even had a cold the morning after his experience with 
 the water, still he thought it a trifle inconvenient to ride 
 that way a wet tramp through the night. 
 
 Two other tramps stood between the cars, bound for 
 Buffalo. Busy mail clerks walked back and forth between 
 the cars, carrying sacks of mail. 
 
 The mail is always placed in stacks along the walls of 
 the car, piled high in each stack for the different cities 
 along the road. 
 
 The Chicago mail was in the extreme corner near where 
 the men stood, as it was the last city on the road. Em 
 mett conceived the idea of burying himself in the stack 
 of Chicago mail. He was quickly assisted by the two 
 tramps while the clerks were busy with their work. Em 
 mett never found the railroad clerks unkind to him. 
 
 He covered himself with the mail, and was not mo 
 lested until the train rolled into the La Salle Street Sta 
 tion in Chicago. He had ridden a distance of nearly 
 seven hundred miles. 
 
 When the first mail sack was pulled from the stack, 
 
236 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Emmett was quickly on the floor, and before the startled 
 mail clerk could realize what was going on, the boy 
 was out of the car and passing through the gate that led 
 to the waiting room. 
 
 It was early April in Chicago again a splendid combi 
 nation. 
 
INCIDENTS REMEMBERED 
 
 WHEN Byron called Rome his city of the soul, he was not 
 a penniless vagrant, and though Emmett was, Chicago 
 has always remained his city of the soul. There never was 
 a time in the lad s history that he did not find friends 
 there. The vast city and the very name of it have always 
 been to Emmett something set apart. 
 
 The years have touched him now, an unlucky thirteen 
 more, and he could not return to the glad-mad gypsy days, 
 when a dollar was a king s ransom, and doughnuts and 
 coffee were the beginning of luxury for the day. But 
 everything is changed in his city of the soul now, for 
 one night, a year ago, when he passed through there on his 
 journey from Los Angeles to New York, he walked for 
 hours about his old love d district. 
 
 Time had blotted out everything but the memory of 
 those days. Where the Newsboys Home once stood on 
 Wabash Avenue, there was a larger building. The 
 Coliseum, almost directly opposite, was still there, and the 
 bell tolled from the Episcopalian church above the noise 
 of the street in the same old way. But the lads who had 
 heard the chimes on Sunday morning were now scattered 
 wide over the world. Some were lying in graves in 
 France, having given all tor the nation that had been none 
 too kind to them. Some were in prison, and some were 
 
 237 
 
238 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 drunkards, and a few, though scorched by the fires of life, 
 were still trying to struggle on. 
 
 For the most part, the histories of the newsboys were 
 written in sand, and the waters of life had washed them 
 away. Life was lived riotously there, some of the boys 
 were kind and generous, others had the souls of bandits 
 and the treacherous cunning which only the gutter can 
 teach. Emmett loved them all for without exception they 
 were kind to him. Neither did he live apart from them ; 
 he quarreled and fought, he shared, and had money shared 
 with him. 
 
 Many of the boys were gathered in front o: the Home 
 when Emmett arrived. They greeted him, as explorers 
 greet one of their own from a far place. Back in the 
 playroom on a wooden bench, he told his exploits to the 
 lads, to whom such tales were old, but always new. Three 
 of the boys took him to dinner, and they spurned the 
 Greek restaurant where a- substantial meal could be pur 
 chased for fifteen cents. They went to the best eating 
 place in the district, where coffee alone sold for five cents 
 a cup, for it was always a feast or a famine on Wabash 
 Avenue. One day the boys would have a whole silver 
 dollar, and the next day they would not have one penny 
 to rub against another. 
 
 Sam Hutchins was in the party Sam, of the red heart 
 and the white soul. Life has made Emmett cynical but 
 Samuel, whose dust has long blended with the dust of his 
 native state, was one of the noblest characters he has 
 ever known. They speak of lilies growing in a dung- 
 heap. How easy ! A diamond in a sewer a nightingale 
 
INCIDENTS REMEMBERED 239 
 
 at the buzzard feast of life was Samuel. Emmett never 
 knew Sam to think of himself, and once, when he wore a 
 beautiful necktie, given him on Christmas, Emmett ad 
 mired it, and Sam said, "Do you want it, Emmett?" 
 
 And Joe Bertucci was also there. His nature was rich 
 with the most vivid emotions. He would sit quietly for 
 hours and listen to Grand Opera. He knew music, espe 
 cially song; he could not talk about them, but he could 
 feel them. He did not read Shakespeare s plays, but he 
 saw Marlowe and Sothern appear in them, and he deeply 
 enjoyed the wonderful rhythm and play of words. A 
 line of the Immortal Master s like, 
 
 "Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang/ 
 
 would haunt him. No human being had to tell him that 
 life was a fever full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 
 Emmett watched his eyes once when Lady Macbeth said 
 that the multitudinous seas incarnadine could never wash 
 the blood spots from her hand. He sat an Italian 
 dreamer upon a beautiful sea of words not conscious of 
 space nor time. 
 
 How has life treated this beautiful nature this rein 
 carnated soul of a Dante, the gambler and vagrant who 
 would give his last dime away ? He is a porter in a west 
 ern hotel a radical as was Christ, and men of the race 
 of Christ selling things through the west, sometimes talk 
 to him about business. One of them said to Emmett once 
 that it was too bad that Joe could not do something for 
 himself, and Emmett asked, "What would you have him 
 do?" 
 
240 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Well," said the salesman, "Joe should make more 
 money, he s bright enough." In this, our glorious Amer 
 ica, they would reduce Christ and the Christ-natures to 
 terms of dollars and cents. 
 
 Is it to be regretted that Jesus did not earn as much 
 in a lifetime as a fashionable preacher earns in a month? 
 Measured by world service, the penniless Christ was worth 
 but let us return to Emmett. 
 
 The lad met Vivian and found her completely changed. 
 It was as though the Master Weaver had picked up a 
 white lily just beginning to fade, and had instilled into it 
 new life, and painted it with a dash of carmine. 
 
 "Back to dear old Chi," she said, as she greeted him; 
 "they all come back, so there s no use to leave. But I 
 may take a jump in the fall clear to Cuba." 
 
 Vivian was now the wife of a player on the Chicago 
 National League team. "I m Mrs. Ed. Ravan now, and 
 hubby s a good guy, too ; you ll like him. Of course he ll 
 never die of brain fever, but he knows how to rake in 
 the shekels, and he s good to me. I eat a half dozen times 
 a day, so s to make up for all the feeds I ve lost." 
 
 "Well, I m glad to hear that," said Emmett, "I may need 
 a feed now and then." It was easy to become fond of 
 Vivian, for she had learned in a hard school the art of 
 making men care. Vivian s nature was not deep, and 
 there was not room enough in it for the great things 
 of life to sink. But now and then, as in the case of 
 such natures, she would see deeper than people realized. 
 Vivian believed with the genius who said that one had to 
 
INCIDENTS REMEMBERED 241 
 
 laugh at mankind to keep from crying, but once in a while 
 in the quiet hours she would cry a little with Emmett, but 
 for the most part her philosophy of life was summed up in 
 the words she often used, regarding life and death and 
 love and everything, "To the devil with it all, let s not 
 miss a drink." 
 
 As far as is known during these years of Emmett s life, 
 he never refused a drink. It was said once by some that 
 he ignored an offer of a drink, but that is a mooted ques 
 tion, for Emmett sought to prove later that he had been 
 asleep, and did not hear the invitation. 
 
 Emmett now had the strength of a young bull, his 
 shoulders were broad and heavy, and his neck was six 
 teen inches around. He was a smaller replica of his fight 
 ing uncle, and hard muscles bulged in his compact body. 
 His jaw was as square as a block of granite, and in re 
 pose his expression was sometimes stern, but was easily 
 lit up by a smile which showed large, even white 
 teeth. The rough life, the practice with boxing gloves 
 whenever possible, had been a help instead of a hindrance. 
 His only philosophy of life then, was the philosophy of 
 complete freedom, and he endured everything under the 
 sun so that his soul might still be free. He early noticed 
 the brains of brilliant men being ground to powder to be 
 fired out of economic cannons by Captains of Industry 
 more stolid than they, and he likewise early resolved that 
 a hungry eagle was happier than a well-fed barnyard 
 fowl. 
 
 Factory employees had a pay-day twice a month, but 
 
242 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 they were never paid as well as Emmett was. All they 
 could buy were the necessities of life, and Emmett had its 
 luxuries. He knew bandits and pimps, many sinners and 
 no saints. They made him their confidant, and he never 
 betrayed any of them. 
 
A MAN DIES 
 
 EMMETT knew, in a large city, nameless here, a youth 
 condemned to be hanged. The youth was determined to 
 meet his God without a blue mark around his neck, and 
 Emmett knew some men on the outside who had deter 
 mined to help him. It is pathetic to see the watch the 
 law keeps about the men whom it plans to kill. They set 
 the stage for the drama with precise care. The youth did 
 also 
 
 " sit with silent men, 
 
 Who watch him night and day; 
 
 Who watch him when he tried to weep, 
 
 And when he tried to pray; 
 
 Who watch him lest himself should rob 
 
 The prison of its prey." 
 
 But from some source, in spite of human eyes watching 
 day and night, a tiny pearl handled knife found its way 
 to the condemned boy a day before the farewell touch of 
 the Executioner would send him to oblivion. 
 
 He cut the veins in his wrist, and slowly, slowly bled, 
 while the nails were being driven into the gallows tree. 
 
 There was consternation in the prison, the man who was 
 to be killed had dared to kill himself, or nearly so. The 
 law was not to be cheated thus ; what would sensational 
 newspapers say of such an outrage ! A wheel chair came 
 
 243 
 
244 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 quickly to the doomed youth s cell, and unconscious, he 
 was placed in charge of the Executioner. 
 
 The latter moved about with the cruel eyes of a butcher 
 in the stockyards. He seemed alarmed at losing the 
 money paid by the state for the execution of a man. He 
 looked healthy, and it was said of him that he slept as 
 soundly each night as the humblest parish priest. The 
 strangled shrieks of dying men were part of his day s 
 routine. But the square- jawed Emmett shrank when he 
 looked into his beady eyes. 
 
 The Chaplain could say nothing, for the man was be 
 yond the need of soul salve. They wheeled him past the 
 inmates of Condemned Row, and one inmate shouted, 
 "So long, Jack, meet you in hell in two weeks." But Jack, 
 with his head upon his chest, never answered. 
 
 Had this boy been given a happier environment as a 
 youth, had his father not been burned to death by be 
 coming exhausted and falling into a vessel of molten 
 steel, so that all that ever came to the surface was a 
 patch of grease, had his mother not been forced to slave 
 on a street unfit for beasts, he might have never come to 
 the gallows. 
 
 Even at the trial not a word had been said about the 
 men who with Government License had sold the boy 
 the fiendish liquor that had made a madman out of him. 
 For Jack would not have hurt a fly when sober, and he 
 would step carefully over the sidewalk so that he would 
 not crush the life out of ants which crawled thereon. 
 
 But human lives are regulated according to no schedule. 
 Villains are sometimes clothed with the dignity of church 
 
A MAN DIES 245 
 
 and state, while misled boys swing from the end of a 
 rope upon a gallows tree. 
 
 Jack was hurried to the gallows, and his eyes were closed. 
 They put a black habit over his head, so that he could not 
 see the sun, for they were considerate, and did not wish 
 a man to blink his eyes in the face of God, but they need 
 not have worried, and they knew in their hearts they need 
 not. But like a lot of marionettes upon a wooden stage, 
 they held Jack s limp head in straight position while they 
 adjusted the habit, and kindly and cautiously removed him 
 from the chair in order not to hurt him. 
 
 They held him in position while the rope was ad 
 justed about his neck. The Chaplain closed the Book 
 which he had not used, for, as said before, it was useless 
 to tell the boy that any one was the Resurrection and the 
 Life. The Chaplain looked up out of the small enclosure 
 at the blue sky. His head sank upon his breast as though 
 lead were in his brain. Even the jailers moved about as 
 if they were conscious of the fact that a human life was 
 to be snuffed out. A horrible silence reigned. A sparrow, 
 full of the joy of life and freedom, flew above the en 
 closure. It was a momentary blot against the sky. The 
 ticking of men s watches could be heard. 
 
 Then the Executioner sprang the trap. 
 
 The body never quivered never moved by the veriest 
 fraction of an inch. The letter of the law had not been 
 cheated. It had broken a dead man s neck. 
 
 Followers of the Gentlest of Men -this crime had been 
 committed in your midst. 
 
 
EMMETT WANDERS SOUTH 
 
 EMMETT met Vivian in Grant Park on the day of her 
 departure for Cuba. It was a bright November day. 
 White waves were breaking on the blue bosom of Lake 
 Michigan. The mighty lake was one thing that could 
 arouse the sleeping poetry in the daughter of the Race 
 Perpetuator. In calm or stress, the lake could woo and 
 win her. A sailing vessel was outlined against the hori 
 zon as far as the eye could see. 
 
 The children from the gutters of life were in a dreamy 
 mood. They peopled the sailing vessel with imaginary 
 men and women and described them in detail their 
 homes, their loves, their passions, and their hates. 
 
 Vivian was enchanted, she said, "Oh, Emmy, I wish 
 I could take you to Cuba with me, all Ravan talks about 
 is baseball. It s Titcher Casey this/ and Catcher Mulli 
 gan that/ and I threw him a low curve, and he missed a 
 high one/ till I get so damned bored, I could hit him in 
 the head with a bat. He ain t such a worse though, but 
 he s got a baseball where his brain oughta be. It gets him 
 the green paper with the Presidents mugs on, though. 
 Course I don t like the money, No! ! ! I just like to look 
 at the pictures of the Presidents." 
 
 "You re different than me, Vivian. I ll not be bored 
 five minutes, but then, smart women will spend a whole 
 
 246 
 
EMMETT WANDERS SOUTH 247 
 
 evening with a dull man so s they can see a show and 
 have a lunch they don t need. Why don t you stay in 
 Chicago?" 
 
 "Well, I want to see Cuba." 
 
 "Well," said Emmett, "if you leave for Cuba I ll leave 
 for New Orleans to-morrow." 
 
 Vivian left for Cuba on schedule along with the wives 
 of the other players. Be it said that Ravan was the pride 
 of the youth of America, for he could throw a baseball 
 farther than any other man living. 
 
 Emmett had told Vivian many things about books. He 
 also helped her select books that she liked. She read 
 "Anna Karenina" all through, that is, she read all the 
 parts wherein Anna figured with her lover and husband. 
 All things purely emotional struck Vivian forcibly, but 
 she could never understand why Tolstoi unloaded all his 
 views about agriculture and saving the world in a book 
 about Anna. It did not bother her much, as she skipped 
 those parts. She laughed as she told Emmett how well 
 read her husband thought she was. Before she left Em 
 mett accompanied her to a second-hand book store on 
 North Clark Street, where she purchased Balzac s "Droll 
 Stories," Boccaccio s "Decameron," and the "Novellino" 
 of Massucio. "Good people are so darn stupid in books," 
 she said as she left the store, "Ravan will think I ve gone 
 clear dippy, and if he ditches me, Emmett, it ll be your 
 fault." 
 
 Emmett had always yearned for a warm climate, where 
 people s hearts were as warm as their clime. It was 
 never hard to find a comrade on a quest of adventure 
 
248 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 about the Newsboys Home. So the Fast Mail on the 
 Illinois Central had the descendants of two different 
 races aboard one night in November. A son of Jerusalem, 
 and a son of Ireland had decided to invade the south. 
 Emmett had a ten-dollar bill Vivian had given him, and 
 the Jewish boy had eyes like his mother, perhaps. 
 
 Emmett and Whitey made a strange compact. "It s 
 like this," said Emmett to Whitey, "all the Jews stick 
 together, and you can bum em all in the towns, and lots 
 of em ll give you fifty cents and a dollar, maybe. Then 
 we can buy what we like." 
 
 "That s fine," said Whitey, "but what ll you do about 
 the Irish?" 
 
 "Well, you see, it s this way; that ll be a strange 
 country, and they re hostile to guys on the road. So 
 when we get in a tight place, I ll go and ask the Irish, 
 and they ll give me advice, maybe." Emmett emphasized 
 the last syllable of the word "hostile" very strongly, as 
 tramps do the nation over. 
 
 Whitey said, "Who says a Mick couldn t figger with a 
 Jew?" 
 
 "Well, most times," said Emmett, "the Micks do the 
 figuring, and the Jews take the money." 
 
 All went merry as an Irish wake until the train roared 
 into Champaign. They escaped being arrested by a very 
 narrow margin. By a stroke of luck, which would be 
 considered genius in any other world, the boys eluded 
 capture after the train was surrounded. They stayed 
 on the coal tender until the engine was cut from the train, 
 and riding ahead upon it a few hundred yards, they ran 
 
EMMETT WANDERS SOUTH 249 
 
 like madmen across the tracks and boarded the tender of 
 the other engine about to connect with the train. Then 
 they stretched out perfectly still until the engine was 
 attached, and pulled the fast mail train out of the station. 
 The boys could hear the voices of the police, and see the 
 gleam of their flashlights, as with palpitating hearts they 
 waited for the minutes to crawl by like hours before the 
 train started. Save only the evading of the fireman, when 
 the engine took water, and for some quick thinking, and 
 quicker moving in Cairo, Illinois, they stayed on the train 
 until within fifty miles of Memphis. 
 
 Empty stomachs and a ten-dollar bill produced the de 
 sire to trade money for food. The keeper of a restaurant 
 obliged the boys with hot water, soap, and a towel. The 
 grime of the road was deep within their skins, and the 
 thorough washing revived them immensely. It is easily 
 written here, but riding over four hundred miles on a 
 mail train, with eyes and ears alert, is a task to be met with 
 stout hearts and never-breaking endurance. The engine 
 threw cinders swifter, thicker, and harder than the sky 
 throws snow in winter. 
 
 Some of them were still hot and burned the faces of 
 the young tramps. When the fireman opened the door 
 to feed the engine coal, a long streak of light flashed 
 through the black night, and great clouds of white and 
 black smoke would follow, and trail over the cars, and 
 envelop the boys in its gaseous odor. And then sometimes 
 the smoke would veer across the fields, and the engine 
 would thump, thump, thump along the rails as steadily 
 and with as little effort as a Hamilton watch. While all 
 
250 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 the time it was breaking through the night at seventy or 
 eighty miles an hour. The train swerved and swayed, 
 the engine whistle shrieked in ear-splitting detonations 
 for crossings and villages in which the people were 
 stretched in rest and slumber. The lads dreamed over old 
 dreams as they looked at the faintly shining stars, which 
 now and then peered through black clouds. 
 
 Emmett was not on the roaring train, but was far to the 
 north, walking down a country road with Effie. Above 
 the roar of the train the voice of Whitey yelled, "Good 
 thing the girl slipped you that ten spot. For God s sake, 
 don t lose it." Emmett felt quickly for the folded bill, and 
 breathed easier as his fingers touched it, though it was 
 pinned securely in a small pocket with a large safety pin. 
 
 "Vivian s about getting on the boat for Cuba," said 
 Emmett. "She s the best card in my deck. All the time 
 I ve known her she s never said a cross word to me, and 
 she dresses like a million dollars." 
 
 Absence was telling on Emmett, and like all men in the 
 far places on the lap of adventure, he thought of the gentle 
 touch of woman. 
 
 "You re a lucky devil," said Whitey. "It s your red 
 hair, I guess. Why don t you marry her?" 
 
 "I ain t Brigham Young. She s already married. And 
 believe me, Ravan got a square little girl, too. She ll go 
 seventy-thirty with any man who treats her white, for 
 she s been over the bumps." 
 
 "I guess," commented Whitey, "some broads are born 
 square." 
 
EMMETT WANDERS SOUTH 251 
 
 "There s no guess about Vivian; she s as square as 
 your head." 
 
 "How the hell do you get that way?" asked Whitey. 
 "I ain t Irish." 
 
 "Ain t you sorry?" 
 
 "Yes, you bet, I m cry in cinders about it." 
 
 The town in which the boys landed was sleepier than 
 Rip Van Winkle the first hour he closed his eyes. Hogs, 
 as tall as hounds, and as skinny, ran through the muddy 
 main street. A street sprinkler had turned the dust into 
 mud, and had served two useful purposes. The dust 
 was laid, and the hogs had a place in which to wallow. 
 
 After partaking of cornbread and sowbelly, and black 
 jack coffee, they strolled down the track and met another 
 type of tramp. He merely rode trains about the land, and 
 lived as the Lord provided. He was a fat, good-natured 
 member of several fraternal organizations, all of which 
 had members among the railroad men. He managed to 
 keep his dues paid up, as a matter of business. He was 
 fairly well dressed, and looked more like an auctioneer 
 than a tramp. Fraternalism helped him, as it was proven 
 to the boys that he could ride in the caboose and hob-nob 
 with the crew, while they, if seen, were chased from the 
 train. 
 
A HOBO CAMP 
 
 ALL three went to a hobo camp situated among a grove 
 of white oak trees near a running brook. It was rigged 
 up and ready for the winter exodus of tramps from the 
 north. A box-car door was laid across railroad ties for 
 a table. Pans and skillets hung from nails, and cleanli 
 ness and order were everywhere. A stack of old maga 
 zines were on the car-door table. Four tramps stretched 
 lazily upon the grass near the brook. None of them was 
 a tramp in a broad sense, but all were men who could 
 chain themselves to no settled routine of life. 
 
 All chatted and argued as the afternoon sun rolled 
 through the sky within two hours of the arms of night. 
 All in the crowd had money but Whitey, so each one 
 placed seventy-five cents on the table toward buying pro 
 visions for the evening meal. Whitey and the Lodge 
 Member were chosen to buy the food, while the fire was 
 built in the improvised furnace, and water was carried 
 from the brook. They returned laden with meat and 
 eggs, potatoes, and coffee, and with other necessities for 
 the meal. The method is called "jungling up" by tramps. 
 One of the men was a cook, when he worked, and all 
 assisting, an appetizing meal was prepared. The odor of 
 sizzling bacon, the aroma of coffee, and the smell of 
 burning wood filled the air. Just at dusk the meal was 
 
 252 
 
A HOBO CAMP 253 
 
 placed upon the improvised table. Two lanterns were 
 lit and placed upon it, and never did seven kings in 
 seven palaces enjoy a meal with greater pleasure. 
 
 A whip-poor-will called in a tree as the stars came out. 
 All the men listened as it said so plainly and slowly 
 whip-poor-will wh-ip-p-o-o-r-wi-l-l over and over again. 
 Never did lone bird have a stranger audience, nor a more 
 appreciative one. As it sang, another tramp approached 
 and said, "Hello, mates, am I just in time ?" 
 
 "You bet your life," replied the Lodge Member. "We 
 all eat here in the mornin , too." The strange tramp 
 looked at Emmett under the light of the lantern and said 
 something the boy has never forgotten. Under the spell 
 of the bird, and the night, and the stars, it sounded weird. 
 These atoms had arrived from all different directions, 
 until this day, unaware of one another s existence. "Well, 
 Red," said the strange tramp, "it s been a heck of a time 
 since we scoffed at the same table, ain t it?" Emmett 
 thought for a moment of the thousands and thousands of 
 years that had elapsed since the beginning of time, dur 
 ing all of which they had never met, and replied, "Damned 
 if it hasn t." And the strange tramp, with a red kerchief 
 about his neck, laughed a mirthless laugh. He ate 
 voraciously, his hands continually moving about the table. 
 
 "I been in the stir for a month in Jackson. I thought 
 the bloke had thrun the key away on me. Had a devil of a 
 time. Ate cornbread till corn grew in my ears. Lots 
 o j hospertality in the south all right." 
 
 When the strange tramp had finished the table was 
 cleared in a jiffy, and in no time the dishes and utensils 
 
254 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 were washed. The tin dishes clattered as the tramps 
 shifted them about. Cigarettes, pipes, and the stubs 
 of cigars were lighted, and to the wonder of the gang, 
 Emmett took no part in the smoking. "Gawd," said one 
 tramp, "here s a punk tramp kid that don t smoke." 
 
 Another whip-poor-will had heard the call of the first, 
 and they sent messages back and forth above the heads 
 of the tramps who now argued among themselves. Some 
 tramps are great readers, and they dip into the deeper 
 channels of writing also. When Sir Rider Haggard was 
 in America, he met a tramp who had been introduced to 
 him in the nature of a joke. When the tramp caught the 
 name, he immediately informed the astonished Haggard 
 that he had read his books and passed an intelligent opin 
 ion on them. When the interview was over Haggard 
 said that the man was not a tramp, but a gentleman in 
 distress. Idle hands make busy brains, as the wise, if 
 erratic Schopenhauer wrote, and it holds true of many 
 tramps. 
 
 The talk drifted to the Civil War, and one rover seemed 
 to have made it a life study. Lincoln was dilatory in re 
 gard to McClellan, even weak. He had given a foolish 
 order for all his generals to make a movement on a cer 
 tain day, which military men had considered impossible, 
 and had later criticized. Robert E. Lee was the greatest 
 general America had produced, and Stonewall Jackson 
 was the second greatest. "Give two guys like Lee and 
 Jackson, the breaks, the army, and guns, and grub, and 
 they d have kept Napoleon and Hannibal busy and that s 
 no bunk either," he said. 
 
A HOBO CAMP 255 
 
 Another tramp took up the argument for Grant, and 
 when pressed hard by his more adroit foe, he ended his 
 argument by saying in a beaten, sullen manner, "Well, 
 Grant won, didn t he?" 
 
 "Good God ! that s a baby s argument," replied the other 
 tramp. "Many a good man has been beaten in this world 
 by a damn poor one, that s the trouble in this country, 
 if you win, they never figure how you won but did 
 you win? Grant held every ace in the deck, and all the 
 kings and queens, and Lee had a lot o men without 
 shoes besides a lot o* the damn states in the south 
 ain t worth fighting for anyhow. Who the hell could 
 think o dyin for Mississippi, because the rich guys 
 wanted to hold slaves there? Believe me, Bo, the best 
 some of the poor soldiers get out o every fight is the 
 slurngullion. But it s no use to wake people up the poor 
 boobs just as many white slaves in factories up north, 
 as there ever was black babies down here." 
 
 "Hire a hall," said Whitey. 
 
 "Yes!" answered the tramp, "you should blurb about 
 hirin a hall didyu ever see your brother Jews in New 
 York? All some of em ever see is a needle an thread 
 there whole danged lives. They can fall in line and 
 punch the clock to hell with it all I m free. I own 
 the world, by God just as much as any guy on Wall 
 Street. 
 
 "Things are all right, you guys are always squawkin ," 
 said Whitey. 
 
 "Yep, you re sittin in a room, lookin at the pictures 
 on the wall, an you don t see the bugs in the bed but 
 
256 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 if you had to sleep in that bed then you d roar like a 
 baby lion." 
 
 "But let s get back to Lee and Grant," said the strange 
 tramp. 
 
 "Nothin to get back to. Grant s men were three to 
 one, and maybe the south was wrong but they fought 
 like hell, an you gotta admire that. Give Lee fifty thou 
 sand men and Grant fifty thousand, and Lee would make 
 a monkey outta Grant." 
 
 "Well," said the Lodge Member, "I think they re dead, 
 let em rest." 
 
 "Well, jumpin fiddlesticks, you gotta talk about some- 
 thin wantta suck your thumb? the whole thing was 
 six in one an a half dozen in the other," he went on 
 "Lincoln was white, but he was not a darn bit whiter than 
 Robert E. Lee," said the Great Rebel s defender. 
 
 "Lee must of loaned you some money," said the Lodge 
 Member. 
 
 "Nope, Lee d o been too smart to o loaned a tramp 
 money, but I d o slipped him a dime if he d needed it, 
 an* I had it. Lookin at Lee s picture makes you like 
 men better." 
 
 A lazy southern wind arose and slightly rustled the 
 dead leaves around them. More wood was thrown upon 
 the fire, and all the men seemed to read different things 
 in the blazing fuel. For a long time they remained silent, 
 and the birds had either flown away or sleep had over 
 taken them. The fire burned lower and lower, and be 
 came dimmer and dimmer, and at last went out. Emmett 
 watched it until the last bright piece of red faded into 
 
A HOBO CAMP 257 
 
 the darkness. The outlines of faces were lost, save when 
 now and then a match lit a cigarette, or pipe. 
 
 The long echo of an engine whistle reverberated 
 through the still night. It thrummed the chords of mem 
 ory in the boy s soul and perhaps in the souls of the 
 other tramps for they remained as silent as tired In 
 dians about a burned-out forest fire. A bird, perhaps 
 the silent whip-poor-will, fluttered in a tree. The engine 
 whistle was heard again quite loud, then faint, and 
 fainter then it died away like a dying man s breath 
 upon the Tennessee air. Then all nature slept as peace 
 fully as a weary child. 
 
 With coats thrown across their shoulders, the men re 
 clined upon the ground until early dawn. Emmett, fas 
 cinated by the stars overhead, counted them, up into the 
 hundreds, until his brain was lulled by the monotony of 
 numbers, and he, too, slept until they faded from the sky. 
 
 The November morning was as warm as a May-day in 
 Ohio. The tramps had prepared and eaten breakfast long 
 before a whistle blew at the saw-mill in the town. 
 
 When they started to leave the camp an elderly tramp 
 said, 
 
 "Better beat it two and three at a time. It ain t wise 
 to gang up in these southern towns." 
 
 "Nor any other towns," replied the Lodge Member. 
 
 When a slow train left, four of the men boarded 
 it and rode into the yards at Memphis. Emmett and 
 Whitey were two of the four. 
 
PRISON AND WORSE 
 
 FROM Memphis they rode into the most dreaded state 
 in the Union for the vagrant. Emmett has heard tramps 
 argue half seriously as to whether or not Mississippi was 
 a part of America. When Emmett was there they had 
 a vagrancy law which was the smiling brother of peon 
 age. Officers were given a reward of two dollars and 
 fifty cents for every vagrant captured, so Emmett was 
 informed, and those Mississippi gentlemen would run a 
 mile for less than the amount stated. 
 
 Emmett heard tales of peonage that would make an 
 Egyptian mummy weep. The Governor of the state had 
 long hair and was very religious. The fine chivalry 
 of the south does not extend to her uninvited guests, and 
 even now, the soft, well-modulated voices of Southern 
 girls are not enough to make Emmett forget the harsh 
 manners of Southern men. So vigilant were the men who 
 labored to rid the state of vagrants that possibly not two 
 men out of every hundred succeeded in riding through 
 it without being captured. Those two were not Emmett 
 and Whitey. 
 
 The peonage system originated in the brain of some 
 human being also, for surely a snake never thought of it. 
 Snakes seem rather indolent about exploiting other snakes. 
 
 258 
 
PRISON AND WORSE 259 
 
 As long as they have a hole in which to curl, and warm 
 ground to crawl over, they are satisfied. 
 
 If Emmett were made a God and Ruler of the wind 
 and wave, he would demand that the originator of the 
 peonage system be brought before him. But the Lord 
 said that vengeance was His though He has never used 
 it on the men who exploited human beings in the south. 
 Cultured people in high places ate food which the blood 
 stained hands of peonage victims gathered. The food 
 did not seem to revolt them. They waxed and grew 
 strong and became Southern Gentlemen and Ladies, 
 and to this day, Emmett, the kindly disposed who would 
 share his last dime with a friend, curses each time he 
 thinks of them. 
 
 It would be better to skip thirty-eight days, for Em 
 mett does not wish to tell what happened within that time, 
 until books are printed upon asbestos paper. For his 
 words would smolder and burst into flame when the book 
 was closed. ... It is a pleasant pastime to drudge ten 
 hours a day, under the eyes of an illiterate, brutal keeper, 
 with a ball and chain upon each leg which grows so heavy 
 each afternoon that the muscles become almost paralyzed 
 from the weight. You are paid the magnificent sum of 
 twenty cents a day for your labor, that is, your fine is 
 worked out in that way, and at that rate. Should you un 
 fortunately wear out a pair of shoes in the meantime 
 for it is said that even shoes wear out in the south 
 you are charged four dollars for a dollar and a quarter 
 pair of brogans, and the amount is very considerably 
 added to your fine, and not taken from your wages. The 
 
2<5o EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 American nation believes in thrift, they rush after dol 
 lars, until the ninety and nine million of them lose track 
 of their souls but this story does not deal with the 
 American nation, but Mississippi, and the jailers tried 
 hard to see that the -men were inculcated with the value of 
 thrift. It might be added as something of importance 
 here that a contractor, or some person, high in church and 
 state, as a rule, would allow the county a dollar and a 
 quarter a day for the services of the men whom they gave 
 the chance of working out a fine at twenty cents a day. 
 If a man ever needed a suit of clothes and an overcoat 
 God only knows how long he would have remained. No 
 weak solution of words can describe the horror of the 
 peonage system upon a boy with fine sensibilities. It is 
 too subtle even for the genius driven pen of Thomas 
 Hardy. To have seen the broken hearts of boys that 
 would never really mend again, was in itself a punish 
 ment. 
 
 Emmett knew a writer who went south some years later 
 to write about the peonage system, and when Emmett met 
 him, he said, "My God ! I ve written the article in tears." 
 
 The guard was fat and brutal. He was too lazy to 
 brush a fly from his nose. Emmett had spirit, and he 
 hated men with spirit, so he hated Emmett. 
 
 He made him do all the dirty tasks about the filthy 
 jail. Physically and mentally he revolted from the 
 nauseating routine. But a convict beggar had to strangle 
 his soul morning, noon and night. Thirty-eight times 
 thirty-eight days he murdered the fat jailer in his heart. 
 
 Freedom comes to the prisoner serving the longest sen- 
 
PRISON AND WORSE 261 
 
 tence, for even death takes the life-termer out of the iron 
 cage at last, and gives him rest, undreamed of perhaps, 
 through all the crawling years to come. 
 
 Upon the evening of Emmett s release, the fat guard 
 was waylaid in an alley, and some unkind person, or per 
 sons, took his gun away from him, and beat him until 
 the lazy brute became energetic enough to wail for mercy. 
 Men often wail for mercy who have no mercy in their 
 hearts. 
 
 A husky hobo-blacksmith had been released with Em- 
 mett and Whitey. He had immense arms and shoulders, 
 and a chest in which there was room for much vengeance. 
 Who whipped the guard cannot be recorded here. Per 
 haps it was Emmett and Whitey, it may have been the 
 strong blacksmith, and perhaps all three accidentally met 
 him. Hoboes talk little of such things. 
 
 The efficiency of the vagrancy law was its ability to 
 work all the time. If you were arrested for vagrancy, 
 and had served your sentence and had been released 
 without money, you could be re-arrested, and often were, 
 ten miles from the scene of the first arrest. 
 
 It was January, and Emmett and Whitey were hag 
 gard lads, trying to get out of Mississippi. They walked 
 fifty miles in two days, and begged food in the negro 
 settlements. As a rule, the negroes were humane. As 
 has been said, "a fellow feeling makes one wondrous 
 kind." 
 
 On the second day, a white foreman of negro section 
 laborers refused to give the rovers a drink of water. 
 
 When they crossed the state line into the first parish 
 
262 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of Louisiana, the lads laughed in sheer joy, and shook 
 their fists at Mississippi. Not fat from New Orleans, 
 the boys were just too late to view a lynching. The black 
 man who had pleaded for his life now swung in the 
 wind at the end of a rope, and patiently waited for the 
 authorities to come and cut him down. His body was 
 riddled with bullets, and his clothes were half torn from 
 him. Many of the people, among them children, had car 
 ried away souvenirs of the occasion. 
 
 Some hours later they reached New Orleans. 
 
 The next day they went to the wharf and watched ships 
 from the West Indies unloading their cargoes. That 
 night they washed silverware in an all night Bohemian 
 restaurant near the St. Charles hotel. On the third 
 evening in the city, they stole their way across on a 
 ferry to Algiers, where the Texas and Pacific would take 
 them to Chicago by a route which did not touch Missis 
 sippi. 
 
 The road over which the boys now traveled was called 
 the "tin horn," and in comparison with it, the Lake Erie 
 and Western was not only the greatest railroad in Ohio, 
 but the greatest in the world. 
 
 When darkness came they succeeded in entering an 
 empty box car in the center of what soon proved to be 
 the slowest train then running in the United States. The 
 night was at first sticky and muggy, and then the skies 
 cleared up, and it became frosty and bitterly cold. The 
 boys wrapped newspapers around their legs and bodies, 
 to keep out the frost that bit with tiny teeth. With 
 coats over their shoulders they tried hard to sleep upon 
 
PRISON AND WORSE 263 
 
 the dirty floor. A filthy odor permeated the car, and to 
 kill it, Whitey smoked many cigarettes. 
 
 When the train was not on a full stop on a siding, it 
 crept slowly along, and once it started to travel at about 
 fifteen miles an hour and something went wrong with the 
 air, and it broke in two. 
 
 The cold settled and gnawed at the marrow of Em- 
 mett s bones with more fury than ever it had in the 
 north. He walked up and down the car, but it was a 
 leech that clung to him with icy tentacles. He tired him 
 self by going through gymnastic exercises, but when 
 worn out, it would creep upon him again like the frost 
 upon a roof. 
 
 This kept up for at least seven hours, and then the train 
 stood still on a siding so dreadfully long that Emmett 
 thought that even the engine and crew had deserted it. 
 He was right. During a moment of slumber the crawling 
 train had set the car out on a siding and had gone on. 
 Whitey rubbed his eyes as they both sized up the situation, 
 and said, "If we run real fast we can catch the damn 
 thing." 
 
 "We ll wait till morning* and run and catch it," was 
 Emmett s rejoinder. From the open box car door there 
 was a pretty picture. A yellow road stretched under the 
 stars and moon between dark fields. At the end of the 
 road was a sugar mill, from which lights gleamed. The 
 boys started at once for the mill, for they desired warmth 
 above everything else. 
 
 A negro foreman allowed them to sleep in a boiler 
 room the few short hours that walked before the dawn. 
 
264 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 
 There was bustle and confusion in the early morning 
 as the lads looked about the plantation. Breakfast was 
 the immediate worry, and the overseer stood in the cen 
 ter of the barnyard, surrounded by his flunkeys. 
 
 He was a large man, with leather leggings, and a large 
 white hat. He carried a long blacksnake whip in his hand. 
 The boys walked toward him, and Emmett asked for work 
 upon the plantation, hoping, of course, that he would 
 be given food rather than work. The overseer s appear 
 ance was none too inviting. 
 
 "You all don t want wo k heah, this is niggah s wo k." 
 Emmett was glad he wished to uphold the honor of his 
 race, and with the meal in mind he chatted with the 
 overseer. That worthy read the boys a lecture on the art 
 of becoming successful men. But it was the mobs idea 
 of success- that is, working a lifetime for a pittance, and 
 saving a pittance of that pittance. 
 
 "Look at me," said the overseer, "I have been heah 
 twenty-seven yeahs, my hands all broke from hittin nig- 
 gahs." He pitied himself as he looked at the gnarled 
 hands. Just then a negro rode near him. Two mules 
 were hitched to a cart, one mule in front of the other, 
 while the negro was seated on the animal near the cart. 
 
 "Bettah git a new bridle for that mule, Zeke. Youh 
 a pooh niggah youh kain t steal a bridle for that mule." 
 
 Emmett tried to guide the conversational canoe into 
 the harbor of reality where people served breakfast. But 
 eating had apparently nothing to do with the overseer s 
 scheme of things. Finally Emmett asked what the 
 chances were to get a meal. The overseer parleyed the 
 
PRISON AND WORSE 265 
 
 question, as the boys had been good listeners, and agreed 
 with all he had said, like society women talking to a 
 bishop. The overseer commanded, "Go ovah yon, and 
 see the cook, and if it s all right with her go eat." 
 
 The cook was as big as Aunt Nancy, and she was as 
 kind as she was big. But Emmett did not know how kind 
 she was at first, so he took no chances. He told her 
 that the overseer had sent them. After they were eating 
 he told her the truth, and she laughingly told him, "That 
 ain t no dif rence, I d a fed you nohow." 
 
 After the meal the boys walked down the yellow road 
 with gratitude for the cook and smiles for the overseer. 
 
A HOBO FIGHT 
 
 THE rovers reached A , Louisiana, in a cold, 
 
 drizzling rain. There they met an ex-convict from 
 Shreveport, who had a quart of moonshine whisky. It 
 was strong enough to pull a train, and it pulled the boys 
 from themselves and the miserably wretched day. The 
 ex-convict was as rough as the bark of an old oak tree, 
 and he wore a red sweater, the neck of which touched 
 his ears. His trousers almost touched the tops of his 
 shoes. His jaw was immensely broad, and his forehead 
 extremely low, and he wore a cap which was a size too 
 small for his head. He was plentifully supplied with 
 money, and a surprising knowledge of the underworld 
 lurked beneath his forehead. 
 
 There was a saloon in which the riff-raff of the under 
 world would gather as they passed through the city. In 
 the rear of this saloon was an immense room in which the 
 tramps slept off the fumes of wretched liquor that be 
 numbed their brains. Emmett, Whitey, and the ex-con 
 vict entered this room without a match in their pockets. 
 Men were stretched about in every direction, and they 
 grunted and snored like hogs in a pen. Emmett had al 
 ways been a fastidious young hobo. He would miss a 
 train in order to bathe if he had a chance, and 1 if his 
 
 266 
 
A HOBO FIGHT 267 
 
 clothes became infected with vermin, he would throw 
 them away and obtain others. The three revelers walked 
 across men s bodies and scraped their feet across their 
 faces. Newspapers rattled as the men rolled over, for 
 the floor was covered with them. Many tramps try 
 hard to cling to the last remnant of cleanliness, and 
 though, in most cases, their clothes were as soiled as 
 the floor, still they spread the papers beneath them. 
 
 In the rear of the saloon was a yard in which the men 
 "jungled up," and the next morning many of them cooked 
 breakfast there. They used rotgut whisky instead of 
 coffee after the meal. The atmosphere was fetid, and 
 Emmett was anxious to be gone, but the ex-convict started 
 a crap game with malicious intent. Emmett did not 
 know dice, as he never played, but Whitey was no 
 stranger to the game. As it progressed, he was as im 
 patient as a thoroughbred at a race track, but he had no 
 money, and Emmett s ten dollars had been spent. Whitey 
 watched the ex-convict raking up the silver, until he could 
 stand it no longer, then he called him aside and whis 
 pered, "Stake me to a starter, I m on." 
 
 "All right, kid," was the reply, as he handed him two 
 one-dollar bills. Between Whitey and the ex-convict they 
 quickly broke the game. No one in the crowd had eyes 
 keen enough to detect them shifting the loaded and the 
 real dice. Whitey still had five dollars after he paid the 
 ex-convict. After the game Whitey shared his winnings 
 evenly with Emmett. Men breaking the bank at Monte 
 Carlo felt no wealthier than they. 
 
 All was not over, however. Tramps do not lose what 
 
268 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 little money they have very cheerfully. One husky fel 
 low had not detected trickery, though he surmised it, as 
 any man should, after seeing the ex-convict. 
 
 "Hey, Bloke, you can t put that over on us; come, 
 divvy up," called out the husky individual of the ex- 
 convict. 
 
 "What y u mean, divvy up? You lost square. I ain t 
 a crook. Come an* git your dough, if you think so," he 
 cried. 
 
 They started toward him without another word. 
 
 Biff-bing-bang ! the long arms of the ex-convict shot 
 out and instantly he was engaged in what came near 
 being mortal combat. Three men faced him, while an 
 other sneaked behind with a skillet. Whitey stood against 
 the fence before two others. Emmett, the more or less 
 innocent bystander, was impelled to take action. 
 
 "Get against the fence," he yelled to the ex-convict, 
 "so s they can t sneak behind you." The convict whirled, 
 the men after him. He made the fence near Whitey. 
 The skillet crashed at Emmett s head, he dodged, and it 
 struck his shoulder a glancing blow. Then more battle 
 started. Fists crashed in all directions, and in a thrice, 
 the wielder of the skillet was down and out, moaning, the 
 skillet clattering against a wash boiler on the ground. 
 
 Some tramps left by the gate, some watched the fracas 
 for a while, and eight mixed into it. The ex-convict had 
 knocked two out, Emmett another. Five men were left 
 against a man and two boys. 
 
 The ex-convict, sweater ripped from his body, was 
 
A HOBO FIGHT 269 
 
 fighting the husky tramp, and two others. Emmett s 
 red head bobbed between the two roughnecks attacking 
 Whitey. He screamed, "I ll battle em. You kick em 
 in the shins, you re no damn good with your hands." The 
 two men made vicious swings at Emmett, he ducked, and 
 their fists crashed against the wooden fence. He sparred, 
 they rushed like bulls, their fists slamming against the 
 fence again. 
 
 "What the hell d that fence ever do to you guys?" 
 snapped Emmett. His right hand found one tramp s 
 eye and it became a black and swollen thing. Emmett 
 thought, "I ll soak him in the other eye and blind him!" 
 Whitey kicked at their shins, and as one tramp stopped 
 to rub the injured parts, Emmett saw him with, hands 
 down, and Irish fists crashed against a bewhiskered face, 
 and in a flash, the tramp was on the ground, jaws sag 
 ging, eyes glassy, forgetful of bruised shins and crap 
 games. It was lightning thinking. "Hey, hey," shrieked 
 Emmett. "Lord, don t kill him with that club." The 
 terrified tramp looked around and ducked an imaginary 
 club. Whitey kicked him in a vital spot, Emmett smashed 
 a left into his unguarded jaw. The curtains came down 
 for him. 
 
 The ex-convict was fighting with a valor worthy of 
 a nobler man in a nobler cause. 
 
 Face bleeding, one eye partly closed, he smiled faintly 
 as Emmett yelled, "Here comes the Irish." Then Em 
 mett, running, turned to Whitey. "Busy with the hob 
 nails, Whitey. Kick em in the old shins." The Jewish 
 
270 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 private obeyed the Irish sergeant. The third tramp 
 screeched, "Ouch, ouch!" while Whitey kicked. Emmett 
 was a cool fighting demon with tangled head of fire. 
 
 "Beat it, you bum, or well cook you for dinner," he 
 sneered. 
 
 "I m tough meat, you red-headed crook." 
 
 "Well, we ll make the water hot enough to boil you, 
 and my teeth are strong." As Emmett engaged in battle 
 again he shouted to Whitey, "Kick the husky guy, I ll 
 peel this potato." Then followed several moments of 
 grueling torture. The tramp knew how to fight, and Em 
 mett was forced to the limit, and used every trick in his 
 bag, for the tramp settled down to the deadly routine of 
 fighting. Luckily for Emmett, the tramp bumped into 
 a hard swing, and went to his knees, but not before he 
 made Emmett see all the stars in heaven. 
 
 The unbeaten rascal took Emmett s wrist in his mouth 
 and bit it with uneven teeth. Emmett s thumb found the 
 tramp s eyes. "Let go, Doggie, or out comes your eye like 
 a grape," he commanded. The teeth sank into Emmett s 
 flesh, and Emmett s thumb pressed harder and harder. 
 Finally, the tramp released his jaws, and before he could 
 arise, he was stunned, battered and bleeding upon the 
 ground. Whitey and the ex-convict were fighting the re 
 maining two. 
 
 The fat saloonkeeper rushed out, sized up the situation, 
 and started as if for a gun. The ex-convict rushed at him, 
 and thudded his fists against the beer-keg belly like a 
 drum. His breath rushed out fast, like the wind out of a 
 bellows. He sank to slumber with his wet white apron 
 
A HOBO FIGHT 271 
 
 twisted around his legs. "Oh, oh!" he moaned, and 
 rolled over on his injured belly and lay still. 
 
 The second last tramp at once thought of an engage 
 ment elsewhere. 
 
 The husky individual was no match for the ex-convict, 
 whose muscles could be seen moving beneath his shredded 
 sweater. 
 
 "Let s make a quick finish and beat it, before we re 
 pinched," Emmett gasped to Whitey. They closed in, 
 fighting hard, and in an instant the husky chap was 
 whipped. The back yard looked as though chaos had 
 hit it. 
 
 The three hurried down the street, and Emmett said- 
 "Lord, Whitey, if you could fight with your hands like 
 you can talk with em, you d be a regular Jim Corbett." 
 The ex-convict laughed and said, "But you re a battler, 
 Red. Where d you learn to be so rough ?" 
 
 "It s a gift," replied Emmett. 
 
 "You d make a pip in the ring, with a gift like that," 
 was the ex-convict s comment. 
 
 They repaired to a smudgy Chinese restaurant, and 
 drank moonshine liquor and ate Chop Suey until the echo 
 of the battle had died away in the town. The ex-convict 
 looked at his bruised eye and exclaimed, "That yegg 
 hung a nice shiner on me." 
 
 "It was a danged hard fight for the five bucks we got 
 out of it," returned Emmett. 
 
 "Well," suggested the ex-convict, "if I give you another 
 buck apiece, and pay the Chink for the damage to grub 
 and booze, will it be O. K. ?" 
 
272 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "It s country gravy with us," replied Emmett. 
 
 They bade the dispenser of strange justice farewell 
 and left him with his ill-gotten gain, and brain muddled 
 with whisky. 
 
THE LURE OF HOME 
 
 THEY were soon on their way. They were not penniless 
 again until they left Little Rock, but they were now in 
 touch with fast trains which ran on real railroads. Chi 
 cago, about eight hundred miles away, was a matter of a 
 couple of nights, providing they could stand the cold. 
 
 They reached St. Louis in the middle of the night, after 
 a wild and continuous daredevil ride from Little Rock 
 over the Iron Mountain road. It was a thrill for tired 
 bodies to ride again roaring fast trains, after the slow 
 trains from New Orleans to Little Rock. The night 
 was cold, but it was overlooked in the boys excitement at 
 the nearness of their beloved Chicago. They walked di 
 rectly into a District Police Station, and asked to be al 
 lowed to sleep until morning. The policeman at the 
 desk asked, more by way of kindness than anything else, 
 "On the bum-, kids?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Whitey, "we re on it hard." 
 
 "Where ve you been?" was the next question. 
 
 "Daown saouth," grinned Whitey. "They slipped us 
 thirty-eight days in the can in old Mississippi." 
 
 A dapper young policeman entered and looked at Em- 
 mett. "Pipe the kid with the henna-colored hair," he said 
 to the desk sergeant. Then turning to Emmett he asked, 
 
 273 
 
274 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Why don t you let your hair grow about two feet and 
 sell it to some baldheaded actress? You could get some 
 dough for it." 
 
 "Where the devil would I stay," asked Emmett, "while 
 it grew long?" 
 
 "In jail," was the laconic reply of the policeman. 
 
 "No chance! Another dream all busted to hell," said 
 Emmett. The young policeman led the boys to an empty 
 cell, but did not lock the door. He bade the boys good 
 night, and went whistling down the corridor, with a wil 
 derness of iron bars all about him. 
 
 The next morning a Lieutenant of Police handed Em 
 mett a card upon which an address was written. They 
 were to go there and obtain breakfast. "Nothing wrong 
 at all, no frame up, you ll be treated right," said the Lieu 
 tenant. 
 
 It was a residence district, and a woman opened the 
 door and greeted them with a smile. Emmett handed her 
 the card, and she led them to the back yard, showed them 
 a ton of coal which she wished carried into the cellar. 
 
 The boys pitched in, each taking a bushel basket, and 
 in no time the coal was in its proper place. On the com 
 pletion of the task, they were treated to a delicious meal 
 of ham and eggs, potatoes, rolls, and coffee. The meal 
 was plentiful and well cooked, and Emmett remembers 
 the coffee to this day. 
 
 "Slip me your ham, Whitey, it s a sin for you to eat 
 pork." 
 
 "I would, but this is Friday, and the Irish don t eat 
 meat to-day." 
 
THE LURE OF HOME 273 
 
 "A hobo should eat meat when he gets a chance," said 
 Emmett, "he s a boob if he doesn t." 
 
 "Well, you never saw a Jew Boob," said Whitey as 
 he tackled the ham. 
 
 While they were eating the Lieutenant of Police en 
 tered the kitchen and smiled. "Eat your heads off, kids, 
 you re on the square." He gave them twenty-five cents 
 each, and the boys, bidding policeman and wife good luck, 
 soon left. 
 
 They reached a small city in central Illinois by the fol 
 lowing midnight, where, growing careless and loitering 
 in the warm depot, they allowed themselves to be ar 
 rested by a night policeman, whom Emmett thought was 
 slightly under the influence of liquor. 
 
 Emmett pleaded for freedom as though life depended 
 on the outcome, and Chicago was very near. The police 
 man had the tipsy notion that he was arresting two des 
 perate criminals. The cells must have been occupied, as 
 he took them to a large room, which had bars at the one 
 window, and four dirty walls and a bare floor. They 
 slept part of the night upon the floor, until the foot of 
 the policeman pushed Emmett s side and awakened him. 
 
 "You kids got time to ketch the Banner Blue Limited 
 if you wantta." Emmett awoke Whitey with scant cere 
 mony, both thanked the policeman and hurried to the 
 depot. 
 
 The coaches were white with frost, and icicles hung 
 below the water tank of the engine as it stood panting 
 upon the rails as though anxious to fly from the cold. 
 The lads could not have stood the terrible ordeal, if 
 
276 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Chicago had not been at the end of the road. Napoleon s 
 freezing soldiers upon the steppes of Russia did not en 
 dure much more than the two youngsters this night. 
 
 They held to the iron ladders until their very blood 
 congealed, and ran like thick molasses. Their hearts kept 
 pounding the congealed blood back and forth, and the 
 terrible strain of the night brought frozen tears upon 
 their cheeks. 
 
 "This is hell," said Whitey. "My God! it s hell/ 
 "But let s stick it out, Whitey, if they haul us in there 
 dead." 
 
 "Sure," replied the Jewish lad, "I m game." 
 Lashed to the iron ladders, the children of two suffer 
 ing races were equal to the misery of the ride. The cold 
 settled down heavily. In order to keep from freezing 
 they kicked their feet against the iron ladders, and moved 
 their shoulders like pugilists loosening up their muscles 
 before a battle. 
 
 On, on, the train sped, past prairie, hamlets, and snow- 
 white fields. Emmett recalled the tramp he had known, 
 who rode into a station with hands clutched about the iron 
 ladder, an empty whisky bottle in his pocket, and a frozen 
 leer upon his face. His body was stiff and cold, and it 
 never thawed back into life. The recollection stirred 
 Emmett, and he yelled to Whitey, 
 "Remember Freddie Mansfield?" 
 "I was just thinkin about him, poor devil!" replied 
 Whitey. 
 
 When the train reached the station in Chicago, the boys 
 
THE LiURE OF HOME 277 
 
 were too numb to walk at first, then slowly made their 
 way to the station, and out into the street and across to 
 a friendly saloon, where warm water and soap, and warm 
 liquor revived them. 
 
BATTLE GALORE 
 
 A FAMOUS prize fight was to take place within five blocks 
 of the Newsboys* Home. Through a friend of Vivian s 
 who had but recently returned from Cuba, Emmett was 
 engaged as an usher, and was to receive two dollars for 
 his work, and a chance to see the fight. 
 
 The building was packed, and the loud murmur of 
 voices rolled over the huge enclosure. Another usher told 
 Emmett that one of the fighters engaged for the semi- 
 windup had taken sick and could not go on. "He s yel 
 low, I guess. None of J em like Blinky Ryan s game. 
 Why don t you take a chance, Red, there s around a hun 
 dred iron men in it?" 
 
 "Sure, I ll take a chance. I d fight McGovern for less 
 than a hundred ; ninety dollars less." 
 
 The usher hurried to the matchmaker with Emmett. 
 That worthy sized him up with beady eye on each side of 
 a large, hooked nose. 
 
 "Ever been in the ring before?" he snapped. 
 
 "Yes, I fought all through the south," replied Emmett. 
 
 "Well, slip into that dressin room; and remember, no 
 dough if you stall. I ll send Spike Robinson to second 
 you." 
 
 Emmett stripped clean, and the newly arrived Robinson 
 rubbed with vigor his strong white body. 
 
 278 
 
BATTLE GALORE 279 
 
 "Think you can go the route with Blinky? He s a 
 hard-boiled egg." 
 
 "I like hard-boiled eggs," was Emmett s reply. 
 The crowd had grown impatient from waiting for the 
 fight, and when Blinky Ryan walked down the aisle there 
 was a great cheer, and Emmett received the same ovation 
 a minute later. The cheering was not exactly for the 
 fighters, but in joyful anticipation of the prospect of see 
 ing them batter each other. 
 
 As Emmett sat in one corner of the ring, he wondered 
 where in the world Blinky had found the name of Ryan, 
 for he was more Italian than the Mayor of Rome. A 
 fat man at the ringside yelled, as he looked at Emmett, 
 "Twenty bucks on the red-head," and he waved the money 
 above his head. The referee called the fighters to the 
 center of the ring, and the stolid Blinky scowled at Em 
 mett. "It s hit with one arm free in the clinches, and 
 break when I tell you, see !" The fighters nodded their 
 heads. Before the gong rang Emmett thought of the 
 fighting chainmaker, Danny McCall. He could hear 
 Danny say, "They can t hurt you, kid, you got every 
 thing." And then the gong clanged. . . . 
 
 Blinky came out of his corner with a rush, as though 
 he wished to have the unpleasant affair over as soon as 
 possible. Emmett was in no such hurry, and sidestepped 
 his fellow bruiser, then moved his shoulders, and smiled, 
 showing a row of white teeth. The enraged Blinky 
 sneered as he saw the smile. 
 
 "I knock J em down your t roat," he muttered under 
 his breath. 
 
2 8o EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "The water s free, wade in!" retorted Emmett. 
 
 Blinky did wade in, and his gloved hands flew in every 
 direction like birds with leather wings. Under the rain 
 of blows Emmett Lawler was born again, and his mighty 
 uncle stood at the christening. 
 
 Jaded men stood up and screamed, "God Almighty! 
 What a fight ! Lordy ! Lordy ! Lordy !" Everything but 
 the lust of battle blood-raw had gone from Emmett s 
 soul. His jaws were clamped tight, and his eyes never 
 left the Italian s olive body. He crouched low, his shoul 
 der and arm muscles bulging. He kept on the defensive, 
 but each time the Italian charged, Emmett made him 
 cover under the relentless fusillade of blows meted out 
 to him. The gong sounded and ended the first three- 
 minute round. 
 
 Spike Robinson rubbed Emmett s stomach, and allowed 
 him to suck a piece of lemon. "You re a battlin fool, 
 kid, but watch his right it s bedtime if it lands." Spike 
 Robinson was wise in the ways of the ring, and he would 
 have been a champion years before had he not flour 
 ished when a dozen men were almost the equal of Jack 
 McAulifFe. He whispered as kindly as a mother in Em 
 mett s ear, as he leaned his hand on the strong muscle 
 of the boy s arm near his shoulder, "Keep your jaw 
 covered, and fight him off his feet." The gong ! 
 
 Emmett did the rushing this time, and the impact of 
 his fast-moving body confused Ryan, and he fell into a 
 clinch. "Let s slug, Wop ! You re a rough egg, but I ll 
 break your shell," flashed Emmett. It was anybody s fight 
 
BATTLE GALORE 281 
 
 that round, and the referee was himself hit in the jaw 
 by a flying glove. The third, fourth, and fifth round 
 came, and there was only one round left to go if a knock 
 out did not come. Enimett was not conscious of a thing 
 but the well-built bruiser in the ring with him. To 
 see his muscles crawl as he moved about upon the can 
 vas floor was enough to make the gamest fighter serious 
 and it was Emmett s first time out. 
 
 Spike Robinson had studied the fight as a scientist 
 would study a star. "Play for his belly, kid, slam his 
 kidneys on the infight, then step back and break his jaw 
 with your right. He s the best boy in Chi-town and you 
 can lick him, sure as the devil you can." 
 
 There was a half minute of furious fighting, and Em 
 mett s white body had turned red and raw. A cut to the 
 bone was above his right eye, but he barely felt the burn 
 ing caustic that stopped the flow between the rounds. 
 
 When they worked in close Emmett ripped a terrific 
 right and left to Blinky s stomach, and the wind came 
 out of his mouth in a gasp, and for the fraction of a 
 second his arms dropped, and his chin lay upon Emmett s 
 shoulder. Emmett stepped back quicker than the referee 
 could have counted one two. A left and right blood 
 and water soaked glove thudded with terrible force 
 against Blinky s unprotected jaws. He fell, as a tree 
 falls with a crash. He moved till the count of three, his 
 eyes then closed, his arms stretched out, also his legs, 
 and he lay upon the canvas floor in a crucified position. 
 
 Enimett watched, tense, like a tiger. Then, after the 
 
282 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 count of ten, the Irish lad knelt down and placed his 
 gloved hand under his beaten foe s head, until his sec 
 onds came. 
 
 Spike Robinson rushed in, threw a heavy bath towel 
 around Emmett s shoulders, and amid wild uproar, half 
 pushed, and half carried Emmett from the ring. "Don t 
 mind their cheerin , kid, they always cheer a winner. Re 
 member that!" 
 
 The Sporting Writer on the Chicago Tribune called 
 Emmett the most sensational young fighter that it had 
 been his happy privilege to witness. The Sporting Writer 
 had been the referee at Carson City when the wonderful 
 Corbett had been laid low by a solar plexus blow from 
 the equally wonderful Fitzsimmons. 
 
 "He fights," wrote the Sporting Writer, "like a cham 
 pion. Young Lawler will bear watching." 
 
 Match after match followed. Emmett wore diamonds, 
 and bought them for others. He knew all the varied 
 people a fighter knows, who fights main bouts, and earns 
 from a thousand to five thousand dollars in half an 
 hour of fighting. 
 
 The next two years he seldom read anything but the 
 Police Gazette and the Sporting Pages of newspapers. 
 He lived in a world devoid of thought and fine feeling. 
 
EMMETT TURNS POET 
 
 VIVIAN was the one woman in his life who had any 
 influence for good upon him. "Emmett," she had said, 
 "you need me now just as much as when we were hungry 
 together." She encouraged him to write, but save some 
 rollicking verses for her amusement, he wrote but little. 
 He gave her two verses which he had written about John 
 Keats, and she, without Emmett s knowledge, sent them 
 to Ted Robinson, the Column Conductor of the Cleve 
 land Plain-Dealer. The girl waited patiently, hoping the 
 verses would appear. At last, she saw them at the head 
 of his Column, with the note : 
 
 It is only once in a blue moon that any writer sends us a real 
 poem. When such a thing happens we are happy. Here follows 
 the poem : 
 
 ON KEATS GRAVE 
 
 Earth wearied nature beneath this lonely stone, 
 Sleeping ever so sound, 
 Great hearted dreamer left to dream alone 
 In sacred ground. 
 
 Storm beaten soul that vainly clutched through life, 
 At high ideal ; how blissful it must seem, 
 To leave the burden of stupendous strife, 
 For one long dream. 
 
 283 
 
284 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Emmett was more pleased to read the published verses 
 and Ted Robinson s comment than if he had won a great 
 victory in the ring. But to be contrary, he sneerin gly 
 remarked to Vivian, 
 
 "Battling Nelson never became champion writing stuff 
 like that." 
 
 "Why, you should be ashamed, Emmett. When you 
 were broke 1 and hungry, you used to be so interesting. 
 Why, I broke dates to be with you. I don t know much 
 about writers, but they can t be as dumb as the fighters I 
 know." 
 
 The words cut Emmett, and after this meeting, there 
 followed a period of mental depression in which a des 
 perate battle waged in Emmett s heart and brain. Blinky 
 Ryan had kept on fighting and had wiped out the stigma 
 of his defeat by Emmett. He was now a prosperous and 
 loudly dressed Italian, who wore a diamond horseshoe 
 stick pin, and diamonds on the third and fourth fingers 
 of his left hand, and another diamond on the third finger 
 of his right hand. The scintillating jewels would have 
 furnished light for Blinky on a dark road. Emmett met 
 him in different cities, and once they fought different 
 opponents in a double main event in Dayton. 
 
 In the midst of the mental fever, Emmett accepted a 
 ten-round match with Blinky in Indianapolis and only 
 succeeded in obtaining a draw after Spike Robinson had 
 goaded and stung him into a desperate whirlwind finish 
 in the last round. The Sporting Writers panned him 
 unmercifully. And then, he reacted against the ring and 
 its brutality, and remained more or less in a drunken 
 
EMMETT TURNS POET 285 
 
 stupor for three weeks. Vivian enlisted the aid of her 
 husband, and together they induced Emmett to accom 
 pany them to Hot Springs. 
 
 Emmett saw the station in Little Rock about which he 
 had loitered, a broken young vagrant, a few short years 
 before. At the end of a week, Vivian and Ravan brought 
 Spike Robinson to Emmett s room, where he was reading 
 the Police Gazette. "Hello, Spike! the Gazette boosts 
 you and pans me. Says I m all in. Well, maybe they re 
 right but Ryan can t lick me." Vivian walked across 
 the room and looked at the picture of a girl on the ma 
 hogany dresser. "Why, Emmett Lawler, who is this? 
 I never saw it before." 
 
 "Oh," replied Emmett, "that s a picture of a girl I used 
 to know in Ohio." 
 
 "What a beauty! Is she really that pretty now?" 
 asked Vivian. 
 
 "No, Viv, she s probably not pretty now. She s dead." 
 
 Rough ballplayer and trainer looked at the picture from 
 where they sat as though incredulous that such a vivid 
 personality should now be dust. Emmett s three friends 
 thought little of the futility of life, but a momentary 
 silence fell upon them. 
 
 "Well," said Emmett, "let s talk about the weather. 
 It might be snowing at the North Pole." 
 
 "I had a fight before I left Chicago," remarked Spike. 
 "A guy said you was yellow, Emmett. Said you fought 
 like a champion one time, and like a hunk o cheese the 
 next. I smeared him on the beak. These fat birds are 
 too fresh, callin guys yellow." Spike smiled, and went 
 
286 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 on, "I got some good news for you, Emmy, old scout. 
 I matched you with Ryan, a ten-rounder here in Hot 
 Springs the tenth, three weeks from now. Train hard 
 a week, and you can lick the Wop with your left alone. 
 All he takes in the ring is a pair of gloves, and his head s 
 a dumb bell that won t ring." 
 
 "What s our end of the purse?" asked Emmett. 
 
 "We get a guarantee of six thousand berries win 
 lose, or draw. Not so rotten, eh, Irish?" 
 
 "No, but that Wop is hard pickings. He s got a jaw like 
 concrete, and every time I fight him, my hands are swollen 
 for a week. He s built like a brick schoolhouse." 
 
 "But you made him listen to birds singin once, Em 
 mett. Remember !" 
 
 "Yes, but s you re an old head, Spike, why is it 
 there s always some fellow that seems born to lick an 
 other fellow? There s Young Corbett , he dropped 
 Terry McGovern twice, and the Terrible Terry could 
 turn right around and whip men that Corbett couldn t." 
 
 "He had the hoodoo sign on him, I guess," answered 
 Spike, "he made Terry cry, and told him he couldn t lick 
 a postage stamp, and when Terry told him the champion 
 ship would do him no good, Young Corbett said, I don t 
 care, I ll still get a kick out of life, when I walk down 
 the street and people say, "There goes the guy that licked 
 the Terrible Terry McGovern." " Spike paused a mo 
 ment, and asked, "But you don t think Ryan has the hoo 
 doo sign on you, do you, Emmett?" 
 
 "Not yet," replied Emmett. 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 
 
 THE Elks Convention was being held in Hot Springs, 
 and the fight between Emmett and Ryan was staged as 
 the feature event of the week. Ever since the night the 
 Italian had heard the count of ten, with Emmett standing 
 over him, he had fought his way back with unvarying 
 success and was now considered one of the stars of the 
 country. He was stolid and brutal, but crafty, cruel, and 
 cunning in the ring. He was dangerous at all times, and 
 he could hit from any angle. He was one of those fight 
 ers who might step into the ring with- the best man of his 
 weight in the world, and leave the ring a winner. He 
 had fought two draws with the Champion of the World, 
 and that man had said, "I d rather fight a hyena than that 
 Wop; he s dynamite." 
 
 By laying him out with a one-two punch, Emmett had 
 sent his name across the country, and now he was , 
 but wait, for people in far cities waited for the result of 
 the battle in Hot Springs. 
 
 Ryan entered the ring followed* by three men with 
 buckets, towels, sponges, while Emmett followed closely 
 after with the faithful Spike and Ravan. Vivian sat near 
 his corner, dressed in riding costume. No one in the 
 audience thrilled more with the coming battle than Vivian. 
 She sat back in her seat and watched the auburn-haired 
 fighter with whom she had shared hunger and cold. It 
 
 287 
 
288 EMMETT LAY ^ 
 
 seemed like a dream to her. The nonchalant bruiser who 
 smiled at ringsiders had been her first real man friend; 
 the first man who had liked her for her loyal heart, and 
 not for her sex. The many days with him had given her 
 the semblance of literary background, and had made her 
 feel that there were men in the world who wished women 
 to have an equal right with men in everything. As he 
 removed his flashy bathrobe her heart beat fast at the 
 picture he made. His skin was a healthy white and pink, 
 and she noticed that the muscles of his stomach stretched 
 clear across it in ridges. A man sitting near her said, 
 "A woman could wash clothes on those ridges." Muscles 
 bulged over his kidneys, and she remembered that Em- 
 mett had explained to her that constant battering over 
 those organs in the close fighting would not only turn the 
 flesh raw, but would weaken a pugilist after ten or fifteen 
 rounds, and the kidneys would send their message of 
 protest to the brain, and it would become muddled. 
 She remembered how often he had talked to her about 
 physiology. How she longed to hold him! Her hands 
 itched to be upon his shoulders, and then the ring was 
 cleared and the gong sounded. 
 
 There followed three rounds of absolute brutality. 
 Ryan had delivered a lucky punch from which Emmett 
 never fully recovered. Men sat quite still and forgot to 
 cheer as Emmett stood in the center of the ring, unable 
 to move his hands, and wept. When she looked up at 
 the ring again, Emmett was crying, and pleading with 
 the referee to allow the fight to continue. Spike raved 
 at the referee for stopping the fight, and then led the 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 289 
 
 beaten boy out of the ring, and talked to him as consol 
 ingly as a mother does a hurt child. 
 
 "Now you can write," said Vivian. 
 
 "Now I ll go to hell," replied Emmett. 
 
 Spike rubbed witch hazel upon Emmett s body as he 
 said, "They all have their off nights, kid, even Washing 
 ton met his Waterloo when Napoleon licked him. Wash 
 ington simply got a hard one on the chin, that s all. Why 
 you got a fortune in your body yet ; ain t he, Ravan, ain t 
 he, everybody?" 
 
 "Where s Vivian?" asked the weary Emmett. "Let 
 her come in, Ed." 
 
 "Poor boy," said Vivian, as she entered, "it was a rough 
 night for Irish sailors." 
 
 "Well, Ireland ain t had a navy long," said Spike. 
 
 The victorious Ryan entered Emmett s dressing room. 
 He was not unkind, and bore no malice. "We be even 
 now, Emmett, one and one." 
 
 "But I made you listen to the birds, and you couldn t 
 drop me," replied Emmett. 
 
 "Dat s all right, dat s all right ; I go Memphis now. I 
 fight you ag in." 
 
 "Good-by, Wop," said Emmett. 
 
 "By, by, Emmett, better luck nex time." 
 
 "He s not a bad fellow," said Spike. 
 
 "No , none of the wops are mean out of the ring. 
 He s got to live, I dropped him." 
 
 The next day four rather weary travelers started for 
 Chicago. 
 
290 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 Something had snapped in Emmett s brain. Ever 
 moody, he now became listless and indifferent to the fu 
 ture or the past. The years of reading, dreaming, think 
 ing, were now calling loud to be heard. He cursed the 
 prize ring in his heart, and the cheap element who fol 
 lowed it, but with whom he had always refused to asso 
 ciate when not in the ring. 
 
 He knew a fighter who went crazy from being bat 
 tered on the head, he knew another who had died with 
 a blood clot on his brain, and he met other ex-fighters in 
 every city, broken, dissolute, battered, illiterate, with 
 flat noses and cauliflower ears that resembled putty stuck 
 on human heads. He heard their talk of beating this man 
 and that and he thought of the monotony of training. 
 Vivian s words returned to taunt him. He tried to re 
 call any of the fighters he knew who amounted to any 
 thing. James J. Corbett and Packey McFarland yes, 
 they were possibly the exception that proved the rule. 
 They would have been gentlemen doing anything. The 
 whole thing was demoralizing but what would he do 
 he was not trained in any particular line. He had no 
 head for detail, nor heart for routine. He knew he 
 would never make a first-class poet. Keats was dead 
 and gone at twenty-six, and immortal. Keats was pug 
 nacious, he remembered. Emmett realized that he could 
 feel great poetry but never express it. A Sporting Editor 
 with whom he talked told him that a man might learn to 
 write great prose in twenty years, and the country was 
 full of ordinary writers. Perhaps he could learn, and be 
 the only pugilist who ever became a successful writer. 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 291 
 
 The thought thrilled him a little but then, it was a hard 
 mountain to climb. Jack London had made good, and he 
 was a tramp. But ah ! London had gone to High School 
 and the University. Emmett was through school and out 
 in the world when he was twelve that made a difference. 
 Oh, well! what made him think he could write anyhow? 
 He could not remember when he did not wish to dabble 
 at writing. At the Orphanage he had always won the 
 stick of candy for the best composition. Why was he, 
 and why had he always been such an intellectual snob 
 in his heart? Why had he met no woman who satisfied 
 him intellectually? He had not forgotten the clever 
 girl who wired him after a successful fight, "What s 
 the use of whipping the whole world and ending up a 
 bartender?" She need not think that had gone over his 
 head. It had hit him between the eyes. His nature 
 was craving intellectual companionship more and more. 
 These thoughts bothered him. Who ever heard of a 
 pugilist with ideals, anyhow ? The thing to do was to get 
 the money and bother about the ideals later on. All the 
 husbands of the club women did that. So why should he 
 worry ? 
 
 The train whirled at such a rate of speed that smaller 
 objects along the track were indistinct. Emmett leaned 
 his battered jaw upon his hand and gazed out of the 
 window. Where did Ryan land that first punch ? Curi 
 ously, he had not the least bitterness for Ryan. 
 
 If he ever got in the ring with Ryan again by God ! 
 And then, to hell with Ryan, and all the tribe of bruis 
 ers and gamblers, and women who liked fighters because 
 
292 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 their ancestors among them had been dominated by cave 
 men. His jaws were so sore that the least sudden touch 
 sent a pain through his head that tingled in his brain. 
 
 Was fighting a question of the sensibilities ? Why had 
 Lord Byron bragged of his ability to box? And what 
 about Theodore Roosevelt and countless other brainy 
 men who liked to take a whirl at fisticuffs. Given Em- 
 mett s environment, they might also have become pugilists. 
 
 He moved his face slightly, and his head rang with 
 pain. "Damn that Wop anyhow," he thought. He re 
 called that he had never once thought of poor Ryan the 
 day after he had knocked him cold. But fighters never 
 wanted sympathy from other fighters. Fighting was like 
 life . . . the whiners never got beyond the preliminary 
 class. Then he thought "I m a fine egg, I am, shell all 
 cracked." 
 
 Vivian seated herself by his side, as Ravan went to 
 the smoker with Spike. She placed her hand on his shoul 
 der and said, "Poor boy," and Emmett groaned, "Bawl 
 me out, Vivian, but for God s sake, don t pity me, I can t 
 stand affection now I ll slop over." Then he looked into 
 her brave eyes that had seen so much, and saw a film of 
 tears come over them. 
 
 "I can t help it, Emmett, you draw out everything that s 
 white in me." 
 
 "You never met a real fellow, Vivian, that s why you 
 say that." 
 
 "Don t kid yourself, Emmett if the men I ve met 
 marched down Boul Mich, in old Chi-town, they would 
 look like Coxey s army." 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 293 
 
 Emmett looked at her with renewed interest. * There 
 are times, Vivian, that I need you a great deal. We were 
 both robbed of something, and sometimes I think that 
 you had the worst deal of the two. You had a home 
 where hate and hunger lived, and you scrubbed floors till 
 your back ached but here in this Pullman, one would 
 think you were born on the North Shore Drive." 
 
 "Do you believe in what do you call that about other 
 souls being in us?" 
 
 "Reincarnation ?" 
 
 "That s it I heard a gink talk about it one night. 
 Some teacher, out for a good time, he wore men s pants 
 and everything." 
 
 "I ll tell you," replied the bruiser, "I just know enough 
 not to know what I believe. If there is a hereafter, why 
 don t people talk to us from over there ?" 
 
 "Maybe they do," mused Vivian, "and we can t hear 
 them." 
 
 As the train left Joliet, the Penitentiary could be seen 
 near the track. "I know a fellow doing all of it here," 
 said Vivian. "I ve been to see him quite often on Vis 
 itor s Day. He s not much more than a kid now. He 
 had a wild woman who was nuts about clothes, and he 
 got full of red-eye, and tried to rob a store. The owner 
 came down from the upstairs where he lived, and shot 
 at Buckles, and the kid got excited and shot back, and 
 the owner said, Hello, Gabriel. Life s funny ... I d 
 like to have you see Buckles. He s not any different than 
 any other kid at twenty-three. Poor old Buck ! I know a 
 
294 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 lot o guys like him ; it s hit or miss, ding dang if it ain t. 
 They got good all over. Suppose Buckles d been cockeyed, 
 he d a missed the butter peddler, and maybe got away. 
 It s all the bunk." 
 
 A fat salesman got ready to leave the train. Spike 
 and Ravan returned from the smoking room, and pres 
 ently the red cap porters carried the luggage to a taxi 
 that started for the Sherman House. 
 
 Spike was busy explaining about his boy s defeat. 
 Spike believed all his explanations, for ever since the 
 night he had been chosen as a second for Emmett, they 
 had been like brothers. In spite of a rugged exterior, 
 Spike was kind, and tried desperately hard to understand 
 all of Emmett s moods. Spike had no idea of money, 
 and used to ask, "What can I do with a thousand iron men 
 if I don t spend them?" Spike never complained about 
 how cruel the world was if he was broke. He said that 
 people broke about fifty-fifty with him. Spike was flush 
 now, for the first year Emmett had split the earnings of 
 the ring with him, but after that Spike said, "You take 
 em on the chin, Emmett. I know what that is, no man 
 ager s worth a fifty-fifty split sixty-forty from now on 
 and I hold my end up." 
 
 Spike had a room at the Sherman House, arid he knew 
 more women than King Solomon. The only way you 
 could tell when Spike was almost broke was when he 
 had a wistful expression about his eyes . . . but Emmett 
 had been his one real meal ticket. Spike talked to him 
 as frankly as though he were a preliminary fighter. This 
 showed bravery on his part for there are many men 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 295 
 
 anxious to manage a fighter in the big money. For so 
 far it is the easiest way of obtaining money yet dis 
 covered by science. 
 
 Six months dragged their weary length along, and 
 Emmett had disappeared from the haunts of men who 
 knew him. Spike often called at Vivian s flat on the 
 North Side to ask for news of him. Then one day Spike 
 heard news of him, that the lad was a guest of a fifteen- 
 cent lodging house on South State Street. Spike hurried 
 there, and beheld the one time well-dressed fighter with 
 a week s growth of beard, a black satine shirt, and a 
 spotted blue serge suit. 
 
 "Where the devil have you been, kid?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, I went with Peary to the North Pole, and got 
 lost in South Africa. How s Vivian ?" 
 
 "She s fine," answered Spike; "that girl s a lalapolusa. 
 Her kind s born, not made. But tell me about yourself," 
 urged Spike. 
 
 "Some other time, Spike. I ve been to hell and back, 
 and my tongue is blistered. Even a yap don t like to talk 
 about some things." 
 
 "You re a funny guy, Emmett. Are you nuts, or is all 
 the rest of the world? I know I m not." 
 
 Spike walked with Emmett down State Street to Van 
 Buren where he gave a messenger boy a note and a two- 
 dollar bill. As they walked he said to Emmett, "I been 
 managin Eddie Turner, but he ll never go big, an he s 
 got a glass jaw, and he can t stand the gaff." At the 
 mention of the glass jaw, Emmett had a painful memory 
 of Hot Springs. 
 
296 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Well, the poor devil can t help his glass jaw. Even 
 McGovern saw through yours." 
 
 "I know, I know, Emmett, I was just tellin you." 
 
 They went into the Hub, where a salesman came to 
 meet them. "Measure this boy here size forty, I think. 
 Fit him up. Here s a five for the tailor. A hand-me- 
 down suit won t kill him once. Send the suit to Room 
 112, Sherman House. He likes blue serge make it a 
 French weave." 
 
 Emmett walked away as Spike talked to the salesman, 
 and stood with folded hands, wondering what to do. He 
 was soul sick and broken, and the kindness of Spike was 
 now touching him as kindness had ever touched him. 
 He fought back the tears that came to his blood-shot eyes. 
 
 Spike had no modesty, he was no violet by a mossy 
 dell, but a rag weed, strong and tough, blowing along the 
 roadway of life. He said to the salesman: 
 
 "That kid there is Emmett Lawler. He s one of the 
 five best men of his weight in the world. The world s 
 damn big. Get that! His foot slipped a little, but I m 
 goin to get him hobnail shoes now. Every good guy 
 near goes to hell some time." 
 
 The salesman looked, with the admiration of weaker 
 men, following a ladylike calling. But his tongue could 
 find none but commercial words. 
 
 "Do you wish shirts and ties?" he asked. 
 
 "Sure thing even a fighter wears a shirt, eh, Emmy! 
 Send us a half dozen white madras shirts, collars, socks, 
 good ties of quiet colors, but rich and classy. Touch me 
 not s a bear on ties shirts size sixteen send three pairs 
 
A SNAG THAT TORE 297 
 
 of shoes." Spike called to Emmett, "Come on, John L., 
 we ll beat it to the lady barbers." 
 
 With hair trimmed and clean shaven, Emmett had no 
 sooner arrived at Spike s room with him than a knock 
 was heard at the door, and Vivian entered. She was 
 dressed with perfect taste, a rich black dress, contrasting 
 with her white complexion, draped about her shapely 
 body. No word was said for a moment as, overcome with 
 emotion, the two climbers from the streets stood with 
 tears in their eyes and leaned upon each other s shoulders. 
 Spike looked out of the window and down into the busy 
 street below. Into his tired, wistful eyes there, too, came 
 tears, as he thought of what a devil of a mess everything 
 was. Spike had known a woman once, and he had scat 
 tered the world at her feet his world, it was all he had. 
 He fought McGovern the day she left him, and of course 
 Terry could not be bothered because a bruiser had a fe 
 male on the brain, but he gave Spike something else to 
 think about, and a short sleep, which was not unkind. But 
 ah! that is enough of the story. Perhaps Spike would 
 not wish it told. 
 
 Vivian simulated a show of bravado. 
 
 "Now for the comeback, Emmett. Three of us will 
 stick like glue to a horse s tail. Ravan is a prince, Em 
 mett; he s the kind of a guy you d kill a king for. I m 
 going to phone him right now." 
 
 "No more fighting for me. I hate the sight of a 
 glove worse than the devil hates to think of the girl he 
 left in heaven." 
 
 Spike was back in the ring again to stern realities. 
 
298 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 "Can that talk; forget it; you ain t a weepin* willow, 
 Emmett, it s a punk tree anyhow, standin round lookin* 
 like a hearse. Every geezer who does anything at all 
 has to fight. I don t give a continental damn what he 
 does, either. When I was a kid in England I sure as 
 hell had to battle, too. But by thunder ! I made it, and 
 the Prince of Wales saw me fight that s the bunk I know, 
 but you couldn t bore old Eddie the Seventy-seventh with 
 ham and egg stuff. Old Ed liked the best. He was a 
 good duffer he was. I drank wine with him." 
 "Why, Spike Robinson!" exclaimed Vivian. 
 
EMMETT MAKES A VOW 
 
 "WELL, it s the truth, Vivian. Ask Emmett. Every time 
 he used to get peeved he d bawl me out cause England 
 had trouble with Ireland. I did all I could with Eddie 
 about it but it takes time." 
 
 Vivian picked up the Police Gazette Record Book. 
 "Now, Emmett," she 1 said, "I want you to swear with 
 your right duke on this book that no matter what comes, 
 you ll keep in touch with me, and try to come back part 
 way, anyhow enough to get you on your feet." Ravan 
 entered at this moment. "Careful, Ed, quiet, vow about 
 to be taken." Emmett placed his right hand on the book 
 and went through the strange formula. "There, that s 
 over, now you re under oath, Emmett," declared Vivian 
 as she picked up the book, saying, "This book s two years 
 old, and it s got your picture in it, Emmett. See here, 
 it says, Emmett Lawler, lightweight. Born 1888. It says 
 you re white, Muggins, we know that, and it tells how 
 tall you are, and everything." She turned some of the 
 pages, "Gee !" she exclaimed, "some o the faces in here s 
 hard enough to crack walnuts on, but they re better than 
 a lot o sissies at that." 
 
 Ravan walked up to Emmett, and placed an immense 
 hairy hand on his shoulder. "Try to come back, Em- 
 tnett, for Vivian s sake and Spike s. I ve seen Viv try 
 
 299 
 
300 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 to pray for you late at night, when she was darn sleepy, 
 too. Now the girl will swear up and down that some 
 body answered that prayer." 
 
 "I met Pat O Brien a few months ago," said Spike; 
 "you know Pat, Emmett. Well, he says to me, he says, 
 If you find Emmett and get the dang kid in shape, I ll 
 bet ten thousand on him ag in Ryan in a twenty-five 
 rounder. And we ll hold the fight in Lima, too. Why 
 that damn red-head s Emmett Desmond s nephew. Well, 
 I ll wire Pat you re here, and comin back." 
 
 "Spike, I can t come back." 
 
 "Apple sauce on that stuff; you ain t been away. I 
 felt that way after McGovern tucked me in bed. And 
 believe me! I was away. Terry tucked hard." 
 
 "Don t rave, Spike." 
 
 "It ain t ravin , you ain t licked till you think you are. 
 Look at Grant at Valley Forge, he got his bumps, didn t 
 he? Darn near froze the buttons off his coat. Had to 
 wade the Delaware and everything. Grant wasn t Irish, 
 either. Hell!!!" 
 
 "But listen, Spike, don t you understand, the fighting 
 is easy, I m not afraid of Battling Nelson, and he knows 
 it, but it s something that s fighting me inside. Please 
 believe me, Spike." 
 
 "It s just that lucky bump Ryan copped you on the 
 jaw, that s all. He can t repeat, and I ll bet all my girls 
 he can t, and I wouldn t take a chance on losin my girls. 
 No civilized guy d want to live without the girls." A 
 knock at the door, and Spike opened it. "Here s the junk, 
 slip into the bath room, Emmett, and put em on." Turn- 
 
EMMETT MAKES A VOW 301 
 
 ing to Vivian and Ravan, Spike asked, "How s the billiard 
 room comin ?" 
 
 "Just great," replied they in unison. 
 
 Emmett emerged soon looking more like the Emmett 
 of his prosperous days. Vivian adjusted his tie, and 
 said, 
 
 "Why, you re all dolled up, Emmett, a fellow wouldn t 
 know you." 
 
 "I met Ryan in Denver, folks, after he fought Nelson 
 in Colorado Springs. He s a good Wop. He slipped me 
 twenty-five bucks, and I told him I d pay him back when 
 I fought him again, and he told me, You no good no 
 more, Emmett, no good, I take all de fight out o you 
 in Hot Springs. I felt sore, but I needed the jack." 
 
 Spike interviewed the sporting editors of Chicago pa 
 pers, and the next morning the news was read in far cities 
 that Emmett Lawler had returned from a year of rough 
 ing it in the mountains. "I roughed it all right," said 
 Emmett, "but it wasn t in the mountains." 
 
 Four weeks later Emmett won a six-round battle with 
 Eddie Conway at Lima which the Cincinnati Enquirer 
 called the most sensational fight ever held in the state. 
 Men stood up and thrilled from the first round until the 
 knockout in the last. Spike lived and fought that battle 
 also. He sucked the blood out of Emmett s nose, so that 
 he could breathe more readily. For Conway had a left 
 hand that worked with the deadly precision of machine- 
 gun fire. After the fight the young gladiators met and 
 talked it over, parting the best of friends. 
 
 Slim Eddie sat close to the -ring, in the midst of many 
 
302 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 of St. Marys friends. Time had not robbed him of his 
 passion for life and whisky. He hovered near Emmett 
 during all his stay in Lima. He was never weary of brag 
 ging of his early friendship for the boy. After three 
 successful, months the sporting writers were convinced 
 of Emmett s fitness to cope with either Ryan or Nelson. 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 
 
 FROM miles and miles around the red cars carried men 
 to Lima. Johnny Roods was there, and Slim Eddie, and 
 John Donovan. From the manner in which Auglaize 
 County was represented one would have thought that 
 Lima was its County Seat. Pat O Brien and the wealthy 
 oil men could not have been induced to leave the city that 
 day. They covered every Ryan dollar in sight. 
 
 "The boy s trained as fine as a greyhound," Pat re 
 marked, "and by God! he s Emmett Desmond s nephew. 
 That s enough." 
 
 Spike was smilingly confident as he talked over details 
 with Ryan s manager. Old time fighters, they were both 
 wary and cautious of the ways of the ring. As is the way 
 of such men, they talked much and divulged little. 
 
 "Do you think Emmett can stand twenty-five rounds 
 in front of Ryan?" asked his manager. 
 
 "Don t kid an old kidder, Slippy Regan, you know 
 damn well he can." 
 
 "My boy s goin* great guns, they all dodge him," said 
 Regan. 
 
 "You take in too much territory ; Emmett ain t dodgin 
 him. Ryan couldn t drop Conway in six rounds, nor 
 Nelson either, and damn well you know it." 
 
 "That may be, but he ll cop Emmett in less than that 
 I hate to see a good Irish boy licked, bein one myself. 
 
 303 
 
304 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 But business is business. Ryan can knock a mule down 
 with his right." 
 
 "Hell, that s nothin ," returned Spike ; "Emmett used to 
 train with a mule. ..." 
 
 A ring was pitched in front of the grandstand of the 
 ball park, and seats were built high on all sides of it. 
 Thousands of men surged within when the gates were 
 opened. Ohio has ever been loyal to her children, be they 
 pugilists or presidents. Thousands started singing to the 
 tune of "The Old Grey Goose is Dead," 
 
 "We re from Oh-i-o, we re from O-h-i-o 
 Emmy Lawler can fight o o, 
 He s from O-h-i-o 
 Hur-rahl" 
 
 Vivian wired Emmett: "Reserve two seats for the 
 Ravan tribe," and followed the telegram with her good- 
 hearted husband. 
 
 "Lord, Emmett," said Ravan, "Spider has trained you 
 to the minute ; you ll win the pennant sure." 
 
 "Piggy" Swartz, the lad who led the rebellion against 
 Krantz, was on in the preliminary. 
 
 Danny McCall, the old-time chainmaker fighter, who 
 had first taught Emmett the art of boxing, assisted Spike 
 and "Piggy" as seconds for Emmett. 
 
 Ryan was the first to enter the ring, and the generous 
 Ohioans gave him welcome applause. 
 
 When Emmett appeared a prolonged and mighty shout 
 went up which completely drowned out the noise of 
 street cars and trains. The sun had just gone down, and 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 305 
 
 electric lights turned the Ohio dusk into day. Twenty- 
 five lights were placed behind numbers printed on glass, 
 up to twenty-five above the ring. When the round died, 
 the light died also, and in the wildest excitement men did 
 not have to ask which round it was. 
 
 Strangely enough, by way of contrast, as Emmett 
 waited in his corner his mind was miles away from the 
 fight with Ryan, with Ruth and the Healer, and then 
 it veered around to Effie, and he wondered why he had 
 never written her. After all she was the nearest ap 
 proach to Ruth he knew in the world. He would take 
 an auto trip over Van Wert way and see her after the 
 fight. 
 
 They walked to the center of the ring for instructions, 
 and Vivian waved at Emmett as he looked her way. 
 While talking to the referee he waved a gloved hand 
 back at her. 
 
 "Shake hands, now, boys, and when the gong sounds, 
 start in." 
 
 Ryan and Emmett shook hands quickly, each with a face 
 as expressionless as a Chinese gambler. Emmett, in par 
 ticular, felt as though he carried the hopes of the audi 
 ence on his sturdy shoulders. For the sake of the men 
 who had faith in him, and for the memory of Emmett 
 Desmond he would rather die in the ring than be whipped. 
 Anywhere else but in Lima, "My God!" 
 
 Spike was conscious of the strain, and as Emmett 
 stood in his corner and rubbed his slippered feet on the 
 resin canvas floor, he said, 
 
 "You re a two-to-one shot, kid, the other fight was a 
 
306 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 fluke. Remember the first one kid him tease him 
 but hold your head don t lead for three rounds feint 
 him, make him miss tease hell out of him. Hear me, 
 Emmett!" 
 
 The referee threw his hands together as the gong 
 sounded "Time." 
 
 Newspaper reporters from Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chi 
 cago and other cities sat near the ring. A telegraph in 
 strument clicked near the ring, and flashed the report of 
 each blow the second it was delivered. A camera was 
 turned upon the ring as Emmett and Ryan walked forth 
 to battle. 
 
 "Now, Ryan, me boy," said Slippy Regan, "repeat the 
 trick, remember Hot Springs, finish it quick. Wade in," 
 
 Ryan did as he was told, and led with vicious right and 
 left, which missed by the fraction of an inch. Before 
 he balanced himself, five rapier-like lefts slammed hard 
 against his flat nose, and the blood flowed. Emmett 
 sneered, and said, "I m goin to kill you to-night, Wop. 
 Say your prayers between rounds." And the clan of 
 the Irish yelled wildly. Stung into madness, the Italian 
 charged, and fell into a clinch. "Make him break, ref 
 eree, make him break," shouted Emmett. The referee 
 pried them apart, and in an instant gloved hands thudded 
 against naked bodies, with brain- jar ring force. This was 
 the fourth meeting of the trained young bruisers whose 
 names were known wherever men talked fight, and they 
 anticipated every movement of each other. 
 
 "You ll not go to Australia after this fight, Wop. I ll 
 save you the trip. Snowy Baker can t use a dead man 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 307 
 
 over there." The gong ended the round. Each man was 
 showered with water as he went to his corner. 
 
 "You got him guessin , Emmett, hold your head, for 
 God s sake, make him miss," said Spike. The gong. 
 
 For three more rounds Emmett made Ryan miss, and 
 Spike, the student of fight psychology, though he knew 
 not the term, sent Emmett out to carry the fight into the 
 very citadels of Italy. Spike felt that if the fight went 
 longer than the Hot Springs fiasco, that it would 
 strengthen Emmett. "Fight him now, Emmett, 1 fight 
 him and kid him, keep your left in his nose, keep the 
 blood flowinV 
 
 They went into a clinch, and had a furious exchange 
 near the ropes above Vivian. She looked up, and heard 
 the fighters mumble to each other with pain-shriveled 
 and bleeding features. Their bodies were red and raw. 
 "I ll break your heart this night. I m through, am I," 
 from Emmett. 
 
 "I show you, damn you," from Ryan. 
 
 As they came out of the clinch, Emmett turned Ryan 
 clear around with a right to the jaw. 
 
 "Watch that right," yelled Slippy Regan. 
 
 In the sixth round they missed right and left blows to 
 jaw and head with clock-like rapidity. Then Emmett 
 suddenly slammed two more lefts to Ryan s bruised nose. 
 Their heads bumped together in sheer fury, and old 
 wounds were opened over each of their right eyes. Mil 
 lionaires near the fight were boys again watching a fight 
 at a country school. During a tense moment a tipsy 
 voice screamed, "Oh, you red-head!" 
 
308 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 When Emmett returned to his corner, the water 
 splashed against his panting breast, as he fell into the 
 chair. "Stop the blood, Spike, if you have to burn the 
 flesh." The caustic ground into the raw wound above 
 the eye, and clogged the blood in its channels. 
 
 "You got two places bleedin* on him, Emmett. Keep 
 your left in at him. Never let the blood stop flowin on 
 him, stab his nose." Both men swung their shoulders 
 and the muscles crawled beneath their skins like angry 
 snakes. 
 
 There are people who call the prize ring degrading. 
 Be they right or wrong, the actual righting for a great 
 stake is a test of terrible endurance, and the keen Roose 
 velt advocated boxing for soldiers everywhere, and prac 
 tised it himself. But the only way to learn the heart 
 breaking lessons of the prize ring is in being pitted against 
 a man who has absorbed tricks that can never be fully 
 explained. A deadly knockout is averted by an almost 
 imperceptible movement of the head. The muscles are 
 taut like a tiger s until the blow is ready to be delivered, 
 and then become flexible, and the blow is delivered with 
 all the weight of the fighter behind it. If a sledge weigh 
 ing one hundred and fifty pounds, and traveling quick as 
 a flash, would hit a man s jaw, would he drop ? Pugilists 
 fight along until they get a second wind, and then, barring 
 the luck of the ring, or the science or skill of their an 
 tagonist, they can fight for hours. The lungs seem to re 
 spond to the terrible strain placed upon them. 
 
 Emmett breathed deeply as he faced Ryan, and in 
 stinctively he knew that the longed-for second wind had 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 309 
 
 come. As they faced each other, the referee yelled to men 
 near the ring, "Stop that smokin . These guys in here 
 are human. How d you fellows like to fight and breathe 
 smoke?" 
 
 The seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh round 
 passed with the two battlers struggling like terrible 
 wound-up automatons to end the fight. The emotional 
 Italian was so wrought up over the superhuman grind 
 that he lunged desperately. "Cry, Wop, and I ll make 
 you drink your tears," taunted Emmett. 
 
 The infuriated bruiser sprang at Emmett and shouted, 
 "You son of a b-e-etch. I git you yet." 
 
 "You re not in Hot Springs, Ryan, why the pet name ?" 
 
 Emmett feinted with his right and shifted about, and 
 the left hand slammed Ryan s bloody nose three times, 
 while the right followed up and crashed against his 
 bleeding eye. They then traded rights and left in the 
 middle of the ring, every blow landed being hard enough 
 to knock an ordinary man stiff and cold. 
 
 Under the strain of the fierce mauling they knew not 
 their corners when the gong sounded. 
 
 Regan and Spike, ever alert, jumped into the ring and 
 led them to their seats. The referee scolded, but as each 
 manager committed the infringement of the rules born of 
 desperate necessity, he allowed the fight to continue. 
 "Piggy" Swartz swung the towel in front of Emmett, and 
 while Spike allowed no conversation in Emmett s corner, 
 he alone could talk, the fluent Swartz blurted out, "You re 
 fightin to-night, ain t he, Danny?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Danny, "Emmett s a red devil to-night." 
 
310 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 They exchanged blows in close and Emmett buried his 
 left in Ryan s body. Ryan retaliated with a left to the 
 solar plexus and followed up with a right to Emmett s 
 jaw before he could cover. "How you like it?" asked 
 Ryan. 
 
 "You re losin your punch, you can t knock a fly off 
 the wall." 
 
 They clinched, Emmett shading Ryan, and made him 
 break from the terrible kidney blows. Ryan weakened 
 a trifle as the raw and bleeding Emmett bored in. Ryan 
 was against the ropes, the immense audience stood up and 
 screamed wildly. Both fighters cried under the strain. 
 "Damn your Wop heart," groaned Emmett, and Ryan 
 slugged like a man gone mad from punches. The gong 
 sounded and the tired referee pried them apart. f 
 
 Ryan sent a right blow to Emmett s jaw and a wicked 
 uppercut grazed his chin. He again jarred Emmett with 
 a hard right. It was nip and tuck, desperate lunge and 
 rally one after another, each man about to win many 
 times until the twentieth round. 
 
 Men were not conscious that strangers sat near them, 
 but were carried away on a boat laden with thrills, with 
 two mighty young gladiators battling on the deck. It 
 was such a fight as men will remember and tell their 
 children s children. Events are still dated in Lima from 
 the year of the Ryan-La wler fight. 
 
 Until the twenty-third round there was no apparent ad 
 vantage. The fighters were keyed up to such a pitch of 
 fury that they fought on and on, oblivious of the clanging 
 gong. Hair dripping wet, perspiration seeping through 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 311 
 
 pores in bruised and raw bodies, legs aching, they ever 
 toed the scratch. There was nothing left for either pugil 
 ist but the gong, and the thud of padded gloves which 
 were heavy and soggy from water and blood. When 
 the gloves landed now they made a squishy sound. A 
 doctor near Vivian told her that human endurance 
 was the mightiest thing in the world. The bruisers 
 proved it. 
 
 They clinched in the twenty-third round, and in the 
 break-away Emmett smashed Ryan s sore eye with three 
 telling blows. He moved in closer, his hands criss-cross 
 ing across Ryan s stomach. As they stood near the ropes, 
 sending their bodies with every blow, even of six inches 
 length, they could be heard to grunt, "Uh, uh, uh" as each 
 blow was landed. So hard did they try that the neck 
 and shoulder muscles looked as though they would snap. 
 With cut lips, and firm-set jaws, they lashed each other 
 with soggy gloves again and still again. The audience 
 now sat terribly still with tense admiration, as the olive 
 and white bodies struggled about the ring. 
 
 A left from Ryan found Emmett s eye, and the blood 
 from the clogged wound streamed down across his face 
 and fell upon his breast. 
 
 Emmett stopped to brush it from his eye. Ryan saw 
 an opening and the end came like a clap of thunder on 
 a clear June day. As quick as a dazzling flash of light 
 ning, his brown body loosened its taut muscles, and he 
 sprang at Emmett and fought like a blood-mad tigress 
 defending her young. The blows were so many and ter 
 rible that the Irish pugilist backed away "My God ! My 
 
312 EMMETT LAWLER 
 
 God," moaned Spike and put his hands over his eyes 
 as if afraid to witness murder. 
 
 Spike looked again through blurred eyes, and Em- 
 mett was still on his feet backing, backing, and slowly, 
 slowly thinking, as only an Irish fighter can think in a 
 terrible emergency. The olive pugilist before him was 
 not a human being any more, but a fiend, drunk on blood 
 sent up from hell. 
 
 Emmett gathered his forces Pat O Brien stood up 
 near Vivian the vast audience arose as one man as if 
 about to witness a crash of worlds. They stood in the 
 center of the ring, and exchanged blow after terrible blow. 
 Emmett retreated again, his right hand away below his 
 hip. "Send her home, send her home, Now, Now, 
 Now!!!" screamed Spike. A soggy wet glove crashed 
 through Ryan s defense and carried oblivion in its wake. 
 
 Emmett s hand fell, and his face twitched with pain 
 as he landed the blow. But as his hand fell the mighty 
 Ryan fell also. And before he fell, another stinging left 
 from Emmett helped him downward in a neutral corner. 
 
 Emmett was now an Irish setter straining at the leash. 
 Spike, afraid of a foul, yelled out, "Steady, steady, boy 
 o mine careful don t foul !" 
 
 Ryan started to rise at the count of eight slowly 
 slowly, and Emmett thought, "My God! do I have to 
 hit the game devil again?" 
 
 But visions of Australia and the championship faded. 
 His dazed brain refused to obey the dictates of his cour 
 age-driven heart. Before his hands left the canvas, he 
 collapsed again and fell face forward upon the floor. 
 
THE DAY OF BATTLE 313 
 
 Ryan s seconds carried him from the ring, as limp 
 as a fighter s wet towel. Spike and Danny rushed in the 
 ring after Emmett, followed by O Brien and the clan of 
 the Irish. Emmett s curls were streaked and matted with 
 blood and water. He groaned, "Cut the glove off the 
 right hand, hurry, quick!" The blood-soaked glove was 
 thrown upon the floor, and the broken hand swelled to 
 twice its normal size. 
 
 "It was like hitting a block of concrete/ muttered Em 
 mett, as he was carried to his dressing room. 
 
 The night was touched with the wand of summer morn 
 ing. The Pennsylvania Station was crowded with men 
 going home from the scene of battle. "I give you two 
 months to live," said Emmett to old Slim, "a thousand 
 dollars worth of whisky, and then a long sleep." 
 
 "Well, it s worth it," said the Infatuated Lover. 
 
 Just then Ryan appeared, followed by his manager 
 and seconds. 
 
 "Hello, Blinky !" said Emmett ; "here s the twenty-five 
 you gave me in Denver." 
 
 "T anks, Emmett, I wish you lots o luck; you fight 
 hard." 
 
 "You re not through, Blinky ; you re a white man, and a 
 great fighter." 
 
 "Neither of you fight like a movie actor," cut in Spike 
 Robinson. 
 
 The two antagonists parted, bidding each other good 
 luck. 
 
TWO FRIENDS MEET 
 
 "WELL," said Emmett, as the train pulled in, "I think 
 111 leave you three about forty miles down the line. I 
 want to visit a girl near Van Wert I used to know." 
 They seated themselves in the observation car of the 
 Chicago Limited. 
 
 As the train left the station, Emmett sat for some mo 
 ments gazing across the car in an interested manner. A 
 young woman was seated across from him. As she turned 
 to the man beside her, she smiled, showing even, white 
 teeth. "Who was she?" thought Emmett. Her pretty 
 face was familiar. It couldn t be the Circus Owner s 
 wife. Evidently the young woman had been wondering 
 who he was, for she arose and came toward him, hesi 
 tatingly. Her eyes sparkled, as she asked. 
 
 "Can this be Emmett Lawler?" The voice dipped into 
 the well of memory. 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmett as he arose, "and you re Effie 
 Ramsay, aren t you?" 
 
 The sweet voice hit Emmett harder than ever Ryan 
 had. "Well," she hesitated a brief moment, "I m Effie 
 Ramsay Dix now," then turning to the young man she 
 said, "Will, come here. I want you to meet Emmett 
 Lawler. You ve heard me speak of him." 
 
 314 
 
TWO FRIENDS MEET 315 
 
 Effie and her husband left the train at Van Wert. Then 
 Vivian chaffed, "Why, Emmett, I thought you were going 
 to visit a girl near here." He sat silent for a moment, 
 while the train whistled into the country. He gazed 
 across the green and gold Ohio fields, then turning to 
 Vivian, he sighed, "No, old pal, I ve changed my mind." 
 
 Vivian heard the sigh, and noticed the broken look on 
 the young struggler s face. 
 
 "You know, Emmett, it s the last punch that wins the 
 fight." 
 
 "Yes," replied Emmett, "if the punch is hard enough." 
 
 THE END 
 
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