IP 
 
 VICTORY 
 
 
 RUTLEDGE 
 
 ALEXANDER. CORKEY

 
 ALLAN LIFTED THE CHILD IN HIS ARMS 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 A TALE OF THE MIDDLE WEST 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER GORKEY 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 FLORENCE RUTLEDGE WILDE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1910, by 
 THE H. K. FLY COMPANY.
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 JOSEPH NEWTON HALLOCK, D.D., 
 
 EDITOR OF 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN WORK AND EVANGELIST, 
 
 WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT AND ASSISTANCE 
 
 MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IN our American literature the wonderful Middle 
 West has been strangely neglected. Few books por- 
 tray the intensely interesting drama of life that is 
 being enacted on the fertile plains of the Mississippi 
 and Missouri Valleys. 
 
 My book is an humble contribution to the long and 
 noble list of American fiction which describes our 
 modern American life. My only claim to notice is 
 that I have endeavored to picture the throbbing life 
 of this world in the Middle West, where the nations 
 of Europe are mingling to form one of the grandest 
 types of humanity ever seen on the face of our globe. 
 
 This tale of the Middle West is the result of many 
 years of observation and grows out of vital personal 
 experiences as my own life is being lived in this fa- 
 vored part of the United States. 
 
 As a student, a business man, a minister, a pro- 
 fessor, and a lecturer, I have had wide opportunities 
 of knowing the varied experiences which go to make 
 up the common life of the corn-belt.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 If my story shall be able to show, in part, at least, 
 the magnificent progress and the splendid possibilities 
 of the great Mississippi valley, I shall feel repaid for 
 all my labor in gathering the material and in writing 
 my "Tale of the Middle West." 
 
 ALEXANDER CORKEY.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. WELLINGTON'S TRAGEDY 11 
 
 II. THE NEW MINISTER ARRIVES 21 
 
 III. IN MARKLEY'S FACTORY 31 
 
 IV. A PUBLIC SALE ON AN IOWA FARM 45 
 
 V. GRACE MARKLEY 55 
 
 VI. THE BEGINNINGS OF OPPOSITION 68 
 
 VII. THE REVIVAL 77 
 
 VIII. FREDERICK MARKLEY CALLS ON MA- 
 BEL GRAYSON 86 
 
 IX. AFTER THE BATTLE 96 
 
 X. THE GAMBLING CLASS IN WELLING- 
 TON COLLEGE 105 
 
 XI. ALLAN STIRS UP A TEMPEST 116 
 
 XII. A LETTER FROM WELLINGTON 125 
 
 XIII. ON THE DES MOINES RIVER 134 
 
 XIV. THE STORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 AND ANN RUTLEDGE 143 
 
 XV. THE WELLINGTON GHAUT AU QUA 153 
 
 XVI. A MIDNIGHT ALARM 163 
 
 XVII. FREDERICK MARKLEY BEGINS TO 
 
 REAP 174 
 
 XVIII. ELDER MARKLEY AND HIS SON HAVE 
 
 AN INTERVIEW 185 
 
 XIX. PLOTTING A MINISTER'S DOWNFALL.... 194 
 XX. EVERY MAN'S SOUL A KINGDOM.. . 204
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXI. A FISHING TRIP 216 
 
 XXII. MISUNDERSTANDINGS 226 
 
 XXIII. THE CHURCH CONVENTION HEARS 
 
 REV. ALLAN RUTLEDGE 236 
 
 XXIV. THE TRUSTEES OF WELLINGTON COL- 
 
 LEGE HAVE A HOUSE CLEANING 248 
 
 XXV. THE HUSKING CONTEST 257 
 
 XXVI. FRANK ANTOL'S FATEFUL DISCOVERY 271 
 XXVII. THE WAGES OF SIN 282 
 
 XXVIII. BROKEN-HEARTED AND PENITENT 291 
 
 XXIX. AT THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY 303 
 
 XXX. THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE... 314
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 "ALLAN LIFTED THE CHILD IN HIS ARMS" 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 "HOW CAN YE CHANT, YE LITTLE BIRDS, AND I 
 SAE WEARY, FU' O' CARE" 152 
 
 "GIVE ME A THOUSAND DOLLARS OR I WILL 
 MAKE RUTLEDGE A HERO!" 192 
 
 "CAN I EVER HOPE THAT YOU WILL BELONG 
 TO ME?" ..307
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 WELLINGTON'S TRAGEDY. 
 
 "For God's sake, come quick, doctor!" 
 
 A boy of fifteen or sixteen years of age was 
 standing, bare-headed and breathless, one warm 
 July day, at the door of the parsonage in Welling- 
 ton, as he gasped out these words to Rev. Dr. 
 Anning. The white-haired pastor was at the door, 
 'having hurried from his study to answer the loud 
 rapping of the excited youth. 
 
 "What's the matter, Frank, what's the matter?" 
 hastily inquired the minister. 
 
 "Viola's dead. She's been killed," said the boy, 
 and, bursting into tears, he ran down the street 
 in the direction of his home near the railroad 
 tracks. 
 
 "Dead !" echoed the minster, gazing in astonish- 
 ment after the fleeing form of the boy. "Dead!" 
 he repeated, and then he went on speaking to 
 himself: "Poor girl, I must hurry down to the 
 home. Alas! I fear the worst." 
 
 He seized his hat and walked rapidly toward 
 the little Bohemian settlement on the edge of 
 Wellington. Wellington was a typical city of the 
 Middle West, a county seat, with a mixed popu- 
 lation, including Americans from the Eastern
 
 12 THE VICTORY OR 
 
 States and foreigners from Sweden, Germany, 
 France and Bohemia. 
 
 Most of the Bohemians were utterly godless, 
 but one family, the Antols, had been reached by 
 the church of which Dr. Anning was pastor. The 
 two children, Viola and Frank, had been mem- 
 bers of the Sunday school for some years, and 
 Dr. Anning had often reflected that a start had 
 been made through this family in the Christian- 
 izing and Americanizing of these Bohemian immi- 
 grants. Viola was just past eighteen, a lovely girl 
 of much promise. She was now a member of the 
 church choir as well as the Sunday school. 
 
 The word her brother had brought him of 
 Viola's violent death stunned the minister like a 
 blow. He had seen her pass that very morning 
 in the bloom of health. As he neared the Antol 
 cottage, it was evident something tragic had hap- 
 pened. A crowd was standing around, awe-struck 
 and silent. Cries of grief came from within the 
 'house. 
 
 The crowd, mostly Bohemians, silently made 
 way for the aged minister, whom all recognized. 
 Many of them had only curses for the church of 
 which Dr. Anning was pastor, and for the religion 
 which he professed, but all had a respect for this 
 good, white-haired man, who had shown himself a 
 friend to all in trouble for many years. 
 
 Dr. Anning knocked gently, and then opened the 
 door himself and entered. 
 
 The room was half full of weeping women, who 
 motioned him to the door of the bedroom. 
 
 Just as he reached the door, the doctor came
 
 "ALLAN RUT LEDGE 13 
 
 out. "She's dead," said the physician to the min- 
 ister. "She has been dead over an hour. They 
 found her alongside the railroad track at the 
 bend in the woods, with a revolver at her side and 
 a bullet in her brain." 
 
 "Saviour, help me!" groaned the good man in 
 his heart, as he came in, and sat down quietly in a 
 vacant chair beside the bed. 
 
 The father, with bowed head, was moaning in 
 helpless agony. The mother sat gazing in stony 
 grief at the silent form that lay on the bed. The 
 doctor had just covered it with a sheet. Already 
 a crimson stain over the face showed the dreadful 
 cause of all the grief and agony. On the floor lay 
 Frank, Viola's brother, his strong, young form 
 convulsed with sobs. Dr. Anning sat in silence 
 for a few moments, not knowing what it was best 
 for him to do. 
 
 Suddenly the mother gave a shriek and threw 
 herself on the bed, crying in the Bohemian tongue : 
 Viola, Viola, my child, Viola; come back, come 
 back!" 
 
 In the paroxysm of her grief she pulled the 
 sheet from her daughter's blood-stained face. 
 Tears flowed down Dr. Anning's cheeks, as he 
 gently raised the hapless mother from the bed and 
 led her to another room. 
 
 "Mr. Antol," he said to the stricken father, "go 
 and comfort your wife. Let us care for Viola." 
 
 The man rose as in a dream, and Dr. Anning 
 led him out also. A woman came in and took out 
 the sobbing boy. 
 
 Dr. Anning returned to the bedroom, he
 
 14 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 stood for a moment gazing down at the beautiltul 
 face of Viola, stained with her life-blood. He 
 drew up the sheet again, and murmured to him- 
 self: "My God is this all the church has done lor 
 Viola?" What he meant only he himself under- 
 stood. The unutterable pain in his heart was not 
 simply because a young life had been taken out of 
 the world. A horrible feeling that it was associa- 
 tion with his church that was accountable for this 
 awful crime made him sick at heart. 
 
 The coroner soon arrived and made a hasty ex- 
 amination. 
 
 "We will hold an inquest this evening," he said 
 to the minister, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I shall 
 have the city physician, Dr. Lucas, make a com- 
 plete examination at once." 
 
 Dr. Lucas came, and after a half hour's exami- 
 nation of poor Viola's body he came out of the 
 room, looking very serious. 
 
 Dr. Anning, who had remained until now at the 
 home, put on his hat, and accompanied the physi- 
 cian down the street. 
 
 "Dr. Lucas," said the minister, "were there any 
 other wounds or bruises on the body?" 
 
 "No, Dr. Anning," said the doctor, who was a 
 close friend of the minister's and an officer of his 
 church. "No but something was wrong. I am 
 shocked beyond expression. I always thought 
 Viola was a good, pure girl, but evidently she went 
 astray." 
 
 Dr. Anning staggered and would have fallen, 
 had not his companion grasped his arm. 
 
 "I am afraid it was suicide," continued Dr. Lti-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 15 
 
 cas, thinking the minister had merely stumbled, 
 and not noticing the pallor of his face. "She could 
 not have hidden her shame much longer." 
 
 "It was not suicide!" exclaimed the aged minis- 
 ter, so fiercely that the doctor started. "It was not 
 suicide. That pure, innocent child has been be- 
 trayed and murdered." 
 
 "I am grieved and shocked beyond measure," 
 replied the physician, thinking the awful tragedy 
 had unnerved his pastor. Dr. Lucas was a faith- 
 ful member of the church and a devout Christian. 
 "Of course," 'he went on, "I know that, under the 
 surface of our quiet society in Wellington, much 
 evil exists, undreamt of by the world. My pro- 
 fession enables me to see constantly the downfall 
 of our young people through ignorance and un- 
 restrained passion, but Viola I never could have 
 suspected Viola she was so sincere, so gentle, so 
 innocent" 
 
 The minister said no more. He could not trust 
 himself to speak. He was afraid he had said too 
 much already. 
 
 A little farther on they separated and Dr. 
 Anning walked slowly back to his parsonage. "I 
 knew it, I knew it," he said to himself. "That 
 cursed hypocrite is at the bottom of it all. But 
 I am helpless. I have no absolute proof. Even 
 if I had, it would wreck our church if I exposed 
 him. I must preserve the peace and harmony of 
 Christ's church. God forgive me !" he cried in his 
 agony, "is it Christ's church? But for our church 
 that girl would be alive and happy to-day." 
 
 Dr. Anning was not the only one who had sus-
 
 16 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 picions in regard to Viola's fate. A young man 
 had been paying some attention to her who was 
 believed by some to know something about the 
 tragedy. This young man was Frederick Mark- 
 ley, the leader of the church choir, and the son 
 of the leading officer in the Wellington church. 
 Young Markley's father, William Markley, had 
 been an officer in the church for over thirty years. 
 He was a hard, grasping, covetous man, and had 
 few friends, but he was a power in the Wellington 
 church. He was a pioneer in that part of Iowa, 
 and had used all his superior knowledge and educa- 
 tion to grind as much money as he could out of the 
 foreigners who had settled around Wellington. 
 These foreigners came from Germany, France, 
 Sweden, Bohemia, and other European countries. 
 They came in large numbers to find a new home 
 in the great Western land. 
 
 Markley looked on these immigrants, ignorant 
 of American customs, as his lawful prey, and he 
 had amassed a fortune through his dealings with 
 them. He used all kinds of methods. He was in 
 the land business; he loaned money; he had a 
 store. Lately, he had become a manufacturer and 
 employed many hands, nearly all foreigners. 
 
 His Christianity was shown in his attendance 
 at the morning service in the Wellington church 
 every Sunday, and in his contribution to the min- 
 ister's salary. Apart from these two things, he 
 might as soon have been judged a Mohammedan, 
 or Jew, or even an Atheist, as a Christian. 
 
 He was an officer in the church, but he ignored 
 the duties of this office until some attempt was
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 17 
 
 made to depart from the old formal, antiquated 
 methods of church work. Then he became active 
 long enough to effectually stop any such enter- 
 prise. 
 
 Dr. Anning had meekly submitted to Markley's 
 control, and so he had remained pastor of the 
 Wellington church for many years; but as a fac- 
 tor in promoting true Christianity no one knew 
 better than Dr. Anning that his church was a 
 failure. 
 
 That fatal afternoon he saw his church was 
 more than a failure. It was a moral cancer in the 
 community. Through association w r ith his church 
 a pure, innocent, foreign girl had been betrayed 
 and murdered. Others might be suspicious, but 
 he knew the damning secret. 
 
 Although the community regarded Frederick 
 Markley as a fast young man, of loose morals, the 
 church accepted him as one of its youthful leaders. 
 He had charge of the choir. His influence over 
 the young people of the church was paramount. 
 Among the students of Wellington College he was 
 regarded as a hero. 
 
 Poor Dr. Anning knew that this influence of his 
 in the church and college was largely used to lead 
 the young people into doubtful habits. Markley 
 was an inveterate card player, and it was rumored 
 he gambled heavily. He arranged a dance at the 
 college every month, and often these dances were 
 reported to be altogether too free for a Christian 
 college. No one denied that he drank freely. 
 
 Dr. Anning often thought of making a protest 
 Against this young man's leadership in the church,
 
 18 
 
 but he knew such a protest would mean a war 
 with the senior Markley, and so, for the peace and 
 harmony of the church, he endured in silence. 
 
 Dr. Anning had seen young Markley's attentions 
 to the beautiful young Bohemian, and, knowing 
 Markley's character, he had trembled for Viola. 
 Just the week before, Dr. Anning happened to be 
 in the officers' room of the church one evening 
 after supper. It was choir practise night, but 
 fully an hour before the time when the choir as- 
 sembled. The minister was astonished, therefore, 
 to hear footsteps and voices in the church. He 
 recognized Viola's voice at once, with its slight 
 Bohemian accent. 
 
 "Frederick," she was saying, "I am beginning to 
 think you are deceiving me. Unless you keep 
 your promise, I must, I will, tell Dr. Anning." 
 
 "If you do I will kill you," he heard Markley 
 hiss. 
 
 It was Dr. Anning's first thought at the time to 
 open the door and confront the young people, and 
 how he wished he had done so, as he thought of 
 it all afterward. But he thought of the elder 
 Markley; he thought of the peace and harmony of 
 the church, and he kept still. 
 
 The young people passed on to the choir room, 
 and Dr. Anning was left with an awful secret on 
 his soul. 
 
 Through a little hole the interior of a vast build- 
 ing can be easily seen. By one small act a man's 
 character can be disclosed. So, through these few 
 sentences Dr. Anning saw, clear as day, the 
 tragedy of Viola's life.
 
 RUT LEDGE 19 
 
 After coming from the sight of Viola's mur- 
 dered body Dr. Anning felt he must speak out. 
 What Dr. Lucas told him about the unfortunate 
 girl made him grind his teeth in rage. But again 
 he thought of the peace of the church. Again he 
 resolved to be silent. 
 
 At the inquest, which was short, few new facts 
 were elicited. None had seen anyone accompany 
 the girl down the track. The revolver belonged 
 to Mr. Antol, although he declared he had not seen 
 it in the house for some months. A verdict of 
 suicide while temporarily insane was given, and 
 the incident was closed. 
 
 At the funeral many noticed how strangely Dr. 
 Anning acted. He did not seem himself. At first 
 it was thought that his grief for the sad fate of 
 one of his young church members had unnerved 
 him. But, as the days and weeks went by, it was 
 apparent to all that Dr. Anning was a broken man. 
 In his pulpit he was like a man in a dream, and 
 sometimes his utterances were almost unintelligi- 
 ble. 
 
 His guilty silence kept the church in peace and 
 harmony, but it kept his soul in awful turmoil day 
 and night. Sleep fled. His reason faltered. A 
 few weeks after Viola's funeral Dr. Anning tot- 
 tered into his grave, bearing his awful secret with 
 him. 
 
 Some of the community suspected young Mark- 
 ley knew something of Viola's tragic end, but no 
 one had any proof, and the talk about him died 
 out. Viola was forgotten. Her wrongs were un- 
 avenged. Frederick Markley became more dissi-
 
 20 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 pated than ever. The young people of Welling- 
 ton became more reckless. 
 
 But One above knew well the secret that Dr. 
 Anning had refused to disclose, and strange things 
 were yet to happen in Wellington.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE NEW MINISTER ARRIVES. 
 
 Three months after Dr. Anning's death the fast 
 train was rushing along through Illinois from Chi- 
 cago to Omaha. These two mighty cities of the 
 Middle West are united by a number of trunk lines 
 which rush passengers from one city to the other 
 during the daylight of a summer's day. There is 
 no richer country in the world than these fertile 
 prairies of Illinois and Iowa. 
 
 A young man sat in the luxurious palace car of 
 the Limited and gazed out on the passing scenes. 
 The fields were laden with the golden corn, for 
 which the Middle West is famed. The modern 
 farmhouses flew by. The train roared through lit- 
 tle villages, without even hesitating. But the 
 young man was not interested in the passing pan- 
 orama. He was lost in deep meditation. A 
 noble-looking youth, his age seemed about twenty- 
 five, and with his coal-black hair, dark, piercing 
 eyes and ruddy cheeks, he was a picture of health 
 and strength. His brow was smooth and high. 
 His appearance would have attracted attention h> 
 any crowd. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Rutledge, I thought it was you. Do 
 you remember me?" 
 
 21
 
 The young man started out of his day dream 
 and came back quickly to earth. As he turned 
 toward the aisle of the car to see who owned the 
 sweet, musical voice which had addressed him, 
 he gazed into the fair young face of a beautiful 
 girl, with light flaxen hair and lustrous blue eyes. 
 She was dressed in a brown traveling suit, in ex- 
 quiste taste, and she had the carriage of a true 
 young American woman. 
 
 "I am glad to see you again," responded the 
 young man, after the first glance. 
 
 Rising from his seat, he shook her hand warmly. 
 "Sit down, Miss Grayson," he continued. "Let 
 me see? It is over four years since we last met 
 in Des Moines. How did you remember me?" 
 
 "How did you remember me?" asked the young 
 lady, in return. 
 
 "I could never forget you," said Allan Rutledge, 
 for this was the young man's name. 
 
 Mabel Grayson blushed at Allan's earnest re- 
 mark, and as the rosy hue of her cheeks deepened, 
 and her blue eyes sparkled, she made a lovely pic- 
 ture. 
 
 "Where have you been all this time since your 
 graduation?" she asked. 
 
 j While these young people are renewing their 
 acquaintance in this way, let us go back in their 
 history a few years. 
 
 Four and a half years previous Allan Rutledge 
 had graduated at Des Moines College. The lad 
 was Iowa born and bred and he was proud of his 
 native State. His parents had been pioneers and 
 their home was on a larsre farm on the banks of
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 23 
 
 the Des Moines River. Allan had received all his 
 general education in the Hawkeye State, as the 
 natives term Iowa. On the morning of his grad- 
 uation from college in Des Moines, Iowa's capital 
 city, an event occurred that had an influence on 
 Allan's entire career. He was approaching the 
 hall in which the graduating exercises were to be 
 held. A number of carriages and automobiles 
 were concentrating on this same hall, bringing the 
 college trustees and patrons to the exercises. 
 
 Judge Grayson, president of the board of trus- 
 tees of the college, and his young daughter, Mabel, 
 were approaching in a carriage. The driver was 
 new and awkward and the horses high-spirited 
 and excited. An automobile dashed past, the 
 chauffeur tooting his horn wildly. The horses be- 
 came frightened and began to back and rear. The 
 coachman lost his self-control and pulled violently 
 on the reins, only increasing the fright of the met- 
 tled steeds. An accident seemed imminent. 
 
 Like a flash the young graduate was in the road, 
 and, leaping up, had grasped both horses by the 
 bridles. It was a dangerous attempt, but in a 
 trice the youth was master of the situation. He 
 pulled the frightened animals to the ground, spoke 
 gently to them and, at his word and touch, the 
 panic left them. 
 
 Lifting his hat to Judge Grayson and his daugh- 
 ter, he disappeared in the crowd. 
 
 During the graduation exercises Allan sat on the 
 platform with the rest of the class. He caught 
 the eye of Miss Grayson, seated beside her father 
 the front, as he rose to deliver his oration.
 
 24 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 His subject was "Self-mastery." He began with 
 a quotation from Tennyson: "Self-reverence, self- 
 knowledge, self-control, these three alone, lead life 
 to sovereign power." His oration was a noble 
 effort and held the vast audience spellbound. He 
 closed with a quotation from Walter Foss: 
 
 "I see from my house by the side of the road, 
 
 By the side of the highway of life, 
 The men that press on with the ardor of hope 
 
 And the men that are faint in the strife. 
 And I turn not away from their smiles or their 
 tears, 
 
 Both parts of an infinite plan. 
 Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 
 
 And be a friend to man." 
 
 As he sat down, a hush crept over the audience 
 for a brief second. Then a deafening roar of ap- 
 plause showed that Allan was the hero of the day. 
 
 Mabel Grayson whispered to her father: "That 
 is the young man who caught our horses. I rec- 
 ognized him at once." 
 
 Thus it happened that at the close of the gradua- 
 tion exercises on that eventful day Allan almost 
 lost his own self-mastery when Mabel Grayson 
 came forward and said simply: 
 
 "Thank you, very much, Mr. Rutledge, for sav- 
 ing us from an accident this morning, and I want 
 to congratulate you on your oration. It was 
 splendid." 
 
 Allan blushed and stammered, as he answered, 
 "Thank you, Miss Grayson. I did nothing. I am 
 glad you were pleased with my oration."
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 25 
 
 
 
 The Judge also warmly thanked him and praised 
 his oration as a masterpiece. 
 
 Allan Rutledge and Mabel Grayson had not met 
 again until this morning, as both were journeying 
 on the Limited Express from Chicago. 
 
 During these four years Allan had been prepar- 
 ing himself for his lifework as a minister of the 
 Gospel by a three years' course at a Boston theo- 
 logical institution and a year's study in Germany. 
 
 He had just received a unanimous call to the 
 Wellington church in Iowa, and he was on his way 
 to Wellington that morning. Naturally he had 
 been absorbed in deep thought, as it meant the 
 real beginning of his lifework. 
 
 Mabel Grayson had also completed her studies, 
 graduating from an Eastern college. 
 
 As Allan conversed with the happy, vivacious, 
 cultured daughter of Judge Grayson, he threw off 
 his heavy weight of care and his sense of coming 
 responsibility. He did not mention Wellington to 
 her at all. He told her of his European trip, of 
 the places of interest which he had visited, and of 
 the famous men he had met. Miss Grayson was 
 delighted to hear of his travels, and sincerely in- 
 terested in his studies for his sacred profession, as 
 she was an earnest Christian girl. 
 
 The time passed rapidly. The great Mississippi, 
 father of waters, was crossed, and the train rolled 
 into the grand old State of Iowa. 
 
 "I am glad to be back in Iowa," said Allan, as 
 he watched the cornfields fly past. "I have seen 
 no land like it in all Europe." 
 ' "It is a grand State," said Miss Grayson. "I
 
 26 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 was never ashamed at Mount Holyoke to tell the 
 girls I was a native of Iowa." 
 
 "Yes," continued Allan, "I am anxious to make 
 Iowa my home the rest of my life. My old home 
 on the Des Moines River surpasses to me any pal- 
 ace I ever saw in the Old World." 
 
 "I am going to stop at Wellington to-day," said 
 Miss Grayson. "I am to visit there for a few 
 weeks with the Markleys, who are distant relatives 
 of my father's." 
 
 "Wellington !" exclaimed Allan. "I am going to 
 Wellington, too. I expect to live there awhile." 
 
 "To live there," said Mabel Grayson, in aston- 
 ishment. "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I have been invited to become pastor of the 
 Wellington Church and I have accepted," an- 
 swered Allan. 
 
 "I congratulate you most sincerely," said the 
 girl. "It is a splendid church. I knew Dr. Anning 
 very well. He was often in our home in Des 
 Moines. Poor man," she added, with a sigh, "he 
 broke down suddenly. How glad papa will be to 
 know you are his successor. He has often spoken 
 of your graduating oration. He said you were a 
 born 'friend to man.' " 
 
 "At least," answered Allan gallantly, "I am a 
 friend to his daughter. I think I have heard of 
 your relatives there, the Markleys. Some such 
 name was among those signing my call." 
 
 "Yes," said Mabel, "uncle, as I call him, is one 
 of the leaders in your church, but papa does not 
 think he is a very religious man. His son is the
 
 r ALLAN RUTLEDGE 21 
 
 leader of the choir, but I have not been in Well- 
 ington for several years." 
 
 "Wellington the next stop," shouted the brake- 
 man of the train. 
 
 The engine gave a long, shrill whistle, and the 
 cars began to slow down, as the scattering houses 
 on the outskirts of Wellington darted past. 
 
 Allan took Miss Grayson's baggage and his own 
 and led the way to the platform. When he had 
 placed the suit cases on the ground, he turned and 
 gracefully assisted Miss Grayson to alight. As 
 they stood together, they presented a striking ap- 
 pearance, and many turned to look, and to inquire 
 who they were. 
 
 Tall, strong, manly and handsome, Allan looked 
 every inch a man, while Miss Grayson's fair com- 
 plexion, beautiful features and sparkling blue eyes 
 made a charming picture of budding womanhood. 
 
 "How are you, my cousin," said a rich, deep 
 voice; and both Allan and Miss Grayson turned 
 and met a young man of Allan's own age. He was 
 decidedly dark like Allan, but otherwise the two 
 men were in marked contrast. There were marks 
 of dissipation on the face of the newcomer, and 
 his eyes had a hard, cynical expression. He was 1 
 dressed in the height of fashion, but rather too 
 loud to be in good taste. 
 
 "Why, Frederick, you have come to meet us," 
 said Mabel Grayson pleasantly, and then turning 
 to Allan, she introduced him to the stranger. 
 "Mr. Rutledge," she said, "I want you to meet my 
 cousin, Frederick Markley."
 
 28 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 The young men looked at each other for a mo- 
 ment, as though each measured the other's 
 strength, and then they shook hands without a 
 word. There was no warmth in the greeting on 
 either side. 
 
 Markley knew that Rutledge was the new pastor 
 of the Wellington Church, but a minister was not 
 a person held in high regard by him. Because he 
 was a preacher Markley felt a kind of contempt for 
 Allan, but because he saw in him manliness and 
 authority he could not but acknowledge his super- 
 iority. 
 
 Allan saw into Markley's character at a glance. 
 The loud style of clothing, the cynical glance, the 
 dissipated look, all proclaimed a young man void 
 of character and principle. It seemed to Allan un- 
 fortunate that he should meet such a church mem- 
 ber on his arrival at Wellington. 
 
 "Deacon Stanford is waiting for you in his car- 
 riage at the end of the depot," said Markley, at 
 last, adding in a slighting tone of voice, "You're 
 the new preacher, arn't you?" 
 
 "My name is Allan Rutledge," said Allan 
 shortly. 
 
 He turned and cordially bade Mabel Grayson 
 good-by. 
 
 As Markley saw the light in Mabel's eyes, as she 
 followed Allan's manly form with her glance, he 
 muttered under his breath: "Damn a preacher, 
 anyhow." 
 
 Since Mr. Frederick Markley was the leading 
 young man in the Wellington Church, and the di- 
 rector of its worship in praise, his reception of his
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 29 
 
 new pastor, Rev. Allan Rutledge, was not very 
 auspicious for the future peace and harmony of the 
 church. Anything at all likely to disturb these 
 two prime essentials in a church, peace and har- 
 mony, would have caused Dr. Anning to hazard 
 his very soul, but Allan Rutledge was a different 
 type of minister. He had a passion in his soul, 
 something for which he hungered and thirsted, but 
 it was not a passion for merely peace and harmony. 
 He believed the wisdom from above was "first 
 pure then peaceable." Like America's great war 
 President, Allan Rutledge was ready to fight for 
 righteousness, and fight for it even if it cost him 
 his life. 
 
 When Allan reached the end of the station plat- 
 form, he found Deacon Stanford, one of the offi- 
 cers of the church, awaiting him with a carriage. 
 Introducing himself, Allan stepped into the vehicle 
 and was soon passing over the newly paved streets 
 of Wellington. 
 
 'We are glad you have come, Mr. Rutledge," 
 said Deacon Stanford warmly, as they drove along. 
 "We feel sure God has sent you among us." 
 
 The sincerity of his tone cheered Allan and 
 helped to efface the discouragment which he felt 
 after this brief meeting with Frederick Markley. 
 
 "I will do my duty in Wellington," said Allan 
 quietly, "and I hope I shall be of real service to 
 the church and to the community." 
 
 "You will," said the older man, in deep earnest. 
 "I know you will do us all good. We need a re- 
 vival of religion here and I am sure you can help 
 us."
 
 30 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT LEDGE 
 
 Allan's spirit began to rise, and soon he and Mr. 
 Stanford were on intimate terms. Wellington's 
 new minitser had come, but Wellington little real- 
 ized at first what this would mean.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN MARKLEY'S FACTORY. 
 
 The whistle had just blown at the close of the 
 noon hour and the men were hurrying to their 
 places in Markley's factory. It was midwinter, 
 just two months after Rev. Allan Rutledge ar- 
 rived in Wellington. 
 
 The various farm implements which Markley 
 manufactured had a wide sale in the agricultural 
 States of Iowa, Illinois, Missouri and Nebraska, 
 and the factory was a paying concern. It gave, 
 steady employment to the hands, but the larger 
 share of the profits went into Markley's coffers. 
 He was noted for paying the lowest possible 
 wages. Most of his employees were foreigners, 
 who were more docile than American workmen. 
 
 A group of men entered the paint shop on the 
 second floor on this particular day. They were 
 an interesting group from an ethic viewpoint, and 
 presented one of the most fascinating sights to a 
 student of America's destiny. In this paint shop, 
 as in all our Church and State, educational and 
 commercial life, various races were being blended 
 into one American type, 
 
 "Time's noblest offspring and the last.** 
 * 31
 
 32 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 The foreman of this room in the factory was 
 Robert McGregor, a sturdy Scotchman. 
 
 A German, Luther Schneider, was the head 
 painter, who performed the work requiring special 
 skill with the brush. 
 
 A little Dutchman, Jake Borner, was the second 
 painter. 
 
 Pat McGinnis presided at the "dipping vat.'' 
 This was a long tank, filled with paint, into wl ch 
 parts of implements were dipped, a quick and sure 
 method of painting. 
 
 Two Bohemians completed the number of work- 
 men in the room. One of these we recognize as 
 our old friend, father of the unfortunate Viola, 
 Mr. Antol. He is still sad looking, and the six 
 months in which he had brooded over the tragic 
 fate of his beautiful daughter had left their marks 
 upon him. He and another countryman of his, 
 Louis Antoine, were the "helpers." 
 
 They all spoke English, but most of them used 
 the language with a strong foreign accent, which 
 showed alien birth. 
 
 As they began work after the noonday hour, 
 Louis Antoine, one of the Bohemian "helpers," 
 was assisting the Irishman, Pat McGinnis, in dip- 
 ping some cultivator irons in the paint tank. An- 
 toine was a reader of infidel literature, and he had 
 lately perused some Bohemian attacks on religion, 
 which evidently had soured his temper. As the 
 irons sank in the oozy paint, Antoine remarked: 
 
 "I would like to soak every priest on earth like 
 that." 
 
 Pat looked up quickly at his companion, and see-
 
 33 
 
 ing the bitter expression on his face, he held his 
 own quick, Celtic temper in restraint, and asked : 
 
 "An' what have ye agin the priests?" 
 
 "Ach," said Antoine, "they are all liars and 
 frauds." 
 
 "Jesus Christ was no fraud," said the Irishman, 
 whose temper was fast becoming hot against the 
 unbelieving Bohemian. 
 
 "Ach," said the unbeliever, "he was the worst 
 curse the world ever saw, a poor fool bastard." 
 
 This was too much for the Christian Irishman. 
 All the holdback straps in his nature gave way. 
 He dropped the cultivator irons into the tank of 
 paint, and landed a stunning blow on the sur- 
 prised Bohemian's ear. 
 
 "Take that, ye ungodly blasphemer!" said the 
 irate son of Erin. "Begorra, I'll dip your haythen 
 mug in the paint meself." 
 
 In a moment the two men were clinching each 
 other, and swaying backward and forward by the 
 side of the big paint tank. It looked as though 
 both of them would fall in. The other men left 
 their work and watched the struggle. 
 
 The foreman, McGregor, had overheard the con^ 
 versation and sympathized with the Irishman. 
 Feeling sure Pat could punish the insolent Bohe- 
 mian, he let the fight go -on. 
 
 Out over the floor the two struggling champions 
 of faith and unbelief worked their way. Antoine 
 was a little heavier than the Irishman, but Pat had 
 the stronger grip. Besides, Pat was fired with 
 religious frenzy at the insult to his faith. 
 t * A wheel was lying on the floor and Pat forced
 
 34 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 his antagonist upon it, and tripped him on its 
 spokes. Both fell over the wheel with a resound- 
 ing thud, but Antoine was underneath. Pat 
 gripped his throat, like a bulldog, and began to 
 pummel his fallen foe. 
 
 "Will ye tak' it back?" he was shouting. "Will 
 ye tak' it back, bad scran to ye?" 
 
 "Let go," gasped Antoine, getting frightened at 
 the Irishman's fury. 
 
 "Will you tak' it back?" again demanded Pat, re- 
 leasing his hold a trifle. 
 
 "Yes; let me up," begged the Bohemian. 
 
 "Do ye promise never to spayke to me like you 
 did agin?" said Erin's triumphant son. 
 
 "Yes; you're killing me. Let me up," answered 
 the now fully conquered infidel. 
 
 "Do ye confess Christ was divine?" said Pat, in 
 terrible earnest, pushing his victory to the limit. 
 
 "I do," meekly answered Antoine. 
 
 "I hav' a good notion to drown ye right now 
 in the tank, and save your soul, before ye recant, 
 ye haythen," said the champion of the faith. 
 
 "Let him up, McGinnis," said the foreman, Mc- 
 Gregor, coming forward. "We all heard his prom- 
 ise and he won't insult your religion again." 
 
 Pat got up, and the foreman helped the pros- 
 trate and gasping Bohemian to his feet. 
 
 Mr. Antol took Antoine's place, as Pat's helper 
 at the tank, and the work of the shop went on as 
 usual. 
 
 The fight started a religious discussion among 
 the men and arguments were getting warm. Fore-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 35 
 
 man McGregor wanted no more religious wars 
 that day, and so he intervened: 
 
 "No more of this talk now, boys," he said, in a 
 good-natured way. "I'll tell you what you all 
 do. Go down to church next Sunday morning and 
 hear Rev. Allan Rutledge preach, and you can then 
 talk intelligently on religion. Most of you haven't 
 been to church in a dog's age." 
 
 McGregor was a faithful member of Allan's 
 church, and he and Allan were already good 
 friends. 
 
 "All right," they sang out, "we'll go." 
 
 "I will have a good seat reserved for the whole 
 crowd," said the foreman. 
 
 "I used to go to church," said Antol, with a tear 
 In his eye, "but I have not had the heart to go the 
 last six months ; but I'll go Sunday, if the rest go." 
 
 Even Antoine, urged by Antol, agreed to go and 
 hear Allan. 
 
 Allan's fame as a preacher had already spread 
 to the factory, and when the rest of the men heard 
 of the agreement among the painters a number of 
 them also planned to attend church the next Sun- 
 day. 
 
 As a result, on the following Sunday morning 
 Rev. Allan Rutledge was surprised and pleased to 
 see a crowd of men filling the front seats to the 
 right of the pulpit. 
 
 He was at his best that morning. His text was : 
 "Two men went up into the Temple to pray." He 
 pictured the devotions of the Pharisee and the pub- 
 lican. 
 ^ Never was the character of a formal Pharisee
 
 36 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 more keenly dissected than was done in Allan's 
 sermon. The Pharisee's pride, vanity, unchar- 
 itableness, lack of genuine piety and general 
 emptiness were held up to scorn. 
 
 People could almost see the discredited Pharisee 
 passing out, as Allan exclaimed : 
 
 "Good-by, old Pharisee, you come to church, 
 but not to worship God. You pray, but your 
 prayer is a mockery and an insult to heaven. You 
 profess Christ, but in works you deny him. Good- 
 by, sir, and would we could say good-b> to you 
 forever. You and your kind have cursed and 
 blighted the Church of God in every age." 
 
 The workmen from Markley's factory glanced 
 over in the direction of their employer's prominent 
 seat, as the sermon proceeded, and many chuckled 
 inwardly as they saw him wince and scowl. 
 
 Except the infidel, Antoine, who sat in sullen 
 defiance, all the men from the paint shop and their 
 fellow-employees were deeply interested. 
 
 After finishing his portrayal of the Pharisee, the 
 preacher went on to speak of the publican. As he 
 recited the story of the wanderer's return to 
 God's house Allan's voice changed. His whole 
 manner became tender and sympathetic. 
 
 There were tears in the eyes of some of his 
 new hearers that morning, as Allan commented on 
 the publican's prayer. 
 
 "God be merciful to you? Ah, yes, he will hear 
 your cry. He would stop every harp in heaven 
 to hear an earnest, heartfelt sob like yours. Come, 
 my brother, give me your hand. We are all sin- 
 ners, and all alike need the grace of God. Go
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 37 
 
 home justified, my brother," he concluded. "Go 
 home rejoicing in the love of your heavenly; 
 Father. Go home and tell what wonderful things 
 God has done for your soul." 
 
 A hush of reverence fell over the great congre- 
 gation as Allan ceased. Like the people of Drum- 
 tochty, they felt "they had heard a message from 
 the Lord." 
 
 The closing hymn was sung with peculiar fer- 
 vor, and its familiar words had a fresh meaning 
 to many. It was Charlotte Elliott's famous hymn: 
 
 "Just as I am, without one plea, 
 But that thy blood was shed for me, 
 And that thou bidst me come to thee, 
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come." 
 
 "What did you think of Mr. Rutledge's sermon 
 yesterday," asked Foreman McGregor, as the men 
 gathered for work at seven o'clock on Monday 
 morning. 
 
 "Himmel," said the German, Schneider, "das vas 
 fine. Py Chiminy, das vas fine." 
 
 "Makes von feller think," said Dutch Borner, 
 "but it was shust fine, shust fine. Ve halluf sich 
 a Dominine in Vellington never." 
 
 Patrick McGinnis was more enthusiastic than 
 any. Antoine had not yet arrived, and so Pat de- 
 livered himself thus : 
 
 "I don't think the haythen Bohemian will have 
 anything now to say agin the blissed Christ after 
 that sarmint. Begorra, he preached like St. 
 ^Patrick."
 
 38 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Antoine came in a little later, but made no re- 
 marks. 
 
 "He iss all right," said Antol quietly, as he 
 dipped some plow handles into the tank. 
 
 "I say, boys," said McGregor, "if I invite Mr. 
 Rutledge down here some noon, will you get back 
 at half-past twelve from dinner, and get the rest 
 of the men out to hear him?" 
 
 "Shure we will, that," exclaimed Pat McGinnis, 
 "at once!" 
 
 Thus it came about that one evening Robert 
 McGregor called on Allan and invited him to come 
 down to the factory and address the men at the 
 noon hour. 
 
 "Have you spoken to Mr. Markley about it, 
 McGregor?" asked Allan. . 
 
 "No," said he, hesitating a little, "I wish you 
 would, sir." 
 
 "All right," said Allan. "I am sure he will be 
 pleased to have me come. I will call and see him 
 to-morrow evening." 
 
 Allan wanted to call at Markley's for another 
 reason. He saw in the daily Wellington "Jour- 
 nal" of that evening that Mabel Grayson was visit- 
 ing again at the Markley home on her way South 
 for the rest of the winter. She was only to re- 
 main in Wellington a few days, and he was very 
 anxious to see her. 
 
 When he called the next evening at the Mark- 
 ley mansion Mabel saw him come up on the bril- 
 liantly lit porch, and ran to the door to admit him, 
 ven before he knocked. 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Rutledge," she said gaily. "I
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 39 
 
 was expecting you to call and see me. I am glad 
 you are looking so well after all the hard work 
 you have done in the last two months." 
 
 Allan was the picture of health. He was a close 
 student and a hard worker, but he knew the value 
 of outdoor exercise. Vigorous pedestrian excur- 
 sions in the woods around Wellington kept red 
 corpuscles in his blood. 
 
 "Delighted to see you, Miss Grayson," said 
 Allan. "I saw in the 'Journal' that you were in 
 town again." 
 
 "Come into the parlor," said Mabel, leading the 
 way. 
 
 Mr. William Markley greeted Allan with a hand- 
 shake. Markley did not altogether like Allan's 
 preaching, and some differences of opinion had 
 already come up between them, but they were 
 still friendly. 
 
 Between young Markley, however, and Allan 
 there was already open hostility. Allan had in- 
 sisted on appropriate Christmas exercises on the 
 occasion of Christ's natal day. 
 
 The jolly revelry that Frederick Markley had 
 introduced of late years into these exercises Allan 
 frankly characterized as "heathen and pagan, fitter 
 to commemorate the birth of Bacchus than of the 
 holy Christ." 
 
 Markley was deeply offended, and threatened to- 
 give up the choir, but Allan had his way. As 
 Allan entered the parlor that evening young 
 Markley rose and, with a gruff "Good evening/' 
 stalked out of the room. 
 ^ Mrs. Markley was a dignified society woman,
 
 40 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 with a patronizing air, and she also bowed coldly 
 to the young minister. 
 
 The daughter, Grace Markley, was Allan's sin- 
 cere friend, and greeted him warmly. 
 
 After a while Allan introduced the subject of 
 the invitation to the factory to address the men at 
 the noon hour. 
 
 "Who gave you the invitation?" asked Markley, 
 rather sharply. 
 
 Allan stared at him a moment, and then an- 
 swered : 
 
 "The invitation came from the men themselves, 
 but Robert McGregor brought it to me." 
 
 "I can't see why McGregor didn't see me first 
 about the matter," said Markley, evidently much 
 displeased. 
 
 Allan could now guess why McGregor had got- 
 ten him to see his employer. 
 
 "I don't think the Gospel of Christ will hurt 
 your workmen," responded Allan, roused by Mark- 
 ley's manner. 
 
 "No, oh, no," said he, 'but I do not believe in 
 mixing business and religion. We have Sunday 
 for religion." 
 
 "I expected to go there at the noon hour," said 
 Allan warmly. "I was not going to interfere in 
 any way with the work of the men. I am aston- 
 ished to see you, an officer in the charch, object 
 to such a proposition. It is no wonder the work- 
 ingmen are estranged from the Church." 
 
 Mabel Grayson had been a most interested lis- 
 tener to the conversation, and as Allan finished, 
 she broke in:
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 41 
 
 "Why, uncle, I think such a noonday service -at 
 the factory would be delightful. We have such 
 services in the factories in Des Moines. Papa 
 sometimes addresses them, and I have sung at such 
 meetings several times. I would be glad to sing 
 at your service at uncle's factory, Mr. Rutledge," 
 she concluded, turning to the astonished Allan. 
 
 "Oh, won't that be nice, and T. will go with you," 
 chimed in Grace Markley. 
 
 Allan saw he had won the day and gave Mabel 
 a look of gratitude, as he turned to the discomfited 
 Markley, and said : 
 
 "It is all arranged. Rutledge and party will 
 visit the factory day after to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Markley had to submit as gracefully as he 
 could, but Allan could see he did not think very 
 highly of the enterprise. 
 
 When it was announced at the factory that Rev. 
 Allan Rutledge would speak at the noon hour to 
 the men, and that Miss Mabel Grayson, of Des 
 Moines, would sing, the men were greatly inter- 
 ested. 
 
 The workers in the paint shop were a committee 
 of arrangements, and at 12.30 on the appointed day 
 the whole force of about 100 men were gathered 
 in the shipping room. Some stood, some sat on 
 boxes and barrels, some squatted on the floor, but 
 it was an earnest, intelligent audience. Some of 
 the men were newer immigrants from different 
 parts of Europe, and could not understand Eng- 
 lish very well, but all were reverent and attentive. 
 
 Robert McGregor was master of ceremonies, 
 afcly assisted by Pat McGinnis.
 
 42 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "Rape quiet," said Pat to the men, in a stage 
 whisper. "Here they come." 
 
 Allan was accompanied by Mabel Grayson and 
 Grace Markley, but the elder Markley refused to 
 come. No one remarked on his absence. His 
 presence at such a meeting would have surprised 
 the men. After a few words of kindly greeting, 
 Allan introduced Miss Grayson. 
 
 With a clear, strong, soprano voice, Mabel sang 
 the old familiar hymn: 
 
 "Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly, 
 While the nearer waters roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is nigh. 
 Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past, 
 Safe into the 'haven guide; 
 
 O receive my soul at last." 
 
 As the beautiful words floated over the audience 
 of rough men, in their working clothes, the whole 
 scene was transformed. A light beamed in the 
 men's faces. A glory lit up the rude shipping 
 room. 
 
 When the last notes of the hymn died away, 
 Allan rose quietly to speak. Every man was in- 
 tent to hear. There was absolute stillness. He 
 began by thanking them for the invitation, and 
 also for the attendance of so many at church on 
 the previous Sabbath. 
 
 "I believe the Church and the workingmen 
 ought to get closer together," Allan went on to
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 43 
 
 say. "The Lord Jesus was a workingman" (Pat 
 nudged Antoine at this). "The Gospel is especial- 
 ly for the toilers of the world. No one needs Jesus 
 more than you men do. Jesus has elevated labor. 
 He has dignified work. The common people heard 
 him gladly when he was on earth, and Christ's 
 best friends to-day are among the working people. 
 The Church stands for universal brotherhood, for 
 justice between man and man, for the rights of 
 humanity. Come into the Church, men, and 
 make the Church your own. The Church needs 
 you, and cannot accomplish its God-given task of 
 uplifting the world until the breach between the 
 Church and labor is healed. 
 
 "Our own American poet, Foss, had in him the 
 spirit of a Christian and an American when he 
 said: 
 
 " 'Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 
 
 Where the race of men go by, 
 The men that are good, and the men that are bad, 
 
 As good and as bad as I. 
 
 " 'I would not sit in the scorner's chair, 
 
 Or hurl the cynic's ban; 
 Let me live in a house by the side of the road 
 
 And be a friend to man.' " 
 
 He spoke only fifteen minutes, but he crowded 
 every sentence with his message. When he 
 ceased there was a momentary hush, and then the 
 njen broke out in loud cheers. Pat McGinnis
 
 44 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT 'LEDGE 
 
 jumped on a box, waving his arms excitedly, and 
 shouted : 
 
 "Three cheers for Rev. Allan Rutledge!" 
 
 The cheers were given with a will, and the raft- 
 ers rang wrth shouts of Germans, Bohemians, 
 Frenchmen, Hollanders, Scotch and Irishmen. 
 The address of Allan had, for the moment, fused 
 them into unity, for he touched the common chord 
 of humanity and religion. 
 
 As Allan made his way out of the shipping 
 room, a Bohemian, with tears rolling down his 
 cheeks, put out his hand, and said brokenly: "Mr. 
 Rutledge, I am Antol, Viola's father. Viola used 
 
 to sing that hymn the lady sang. She " But 
 
 he could go no further, bursting into uncon- 
 trollable weeping. 
 
 "Yes, yes, my poor brother," said Allan, who 
 had already called at the Antol home, "I know. 
 May God help you." 
 
 "Viola " began the man again, but tears 
 
 choked his utterance and he turned away, his 
 whole frame trembling with his sobs. 
 
 Pat McGinnis took him tenderly by one arm, 
 and Louis Antoine took the other in silent sym- 
 pathy, as they went up the stairs to the paint 
 room.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A PUBLIC SALE ON AN IOWA FARM. 
 
 "Come out to my sale next Thursday, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge," said Silas Stanford to the pastor at Well- 
 ington, one Sabbath morning, not long after the 
 factory meeting. 
 
 Silas was a brother of Deacon Stanford. He 
 had lived on his farm, seven miles from Welling- 
 ton, from pioneer days, and was about to sell out 
 his stock and farm machinery, preparatory to mov- 
 ing into town. x 
 
 His son was soon to be married, and, as is cus- 
 tomary with farmers in the Middle West when 
 they get old, Silas Stanford was going to retire 
 and turn over the farm to the young people. 
 
 "All right," said Allan heartily, "I will be glad 
 to come. I hear you have some fine horses on 
 your place and I want to get one for my father." 
 
 Wellington was a center for good horses in that 
 country, and Allan's father had asked him to be 
 on the lookout for a good draft animal. 
 
 The next Thursday morning Allan bundled him- 
 self up in a warm fur coat and heavy overshoes, 
 and drove out with Deacon Stanford to the sale. 
 It was a cold winter day. There was a heavy fall 
 of snow on the ground and the thermometer was 
 only a few degrees above zero. 
 
 * 
 
 45
 
 46 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 A big crowd of men had gathered in the yard 
 by the time they arrived z and many greeted Allan 
 cordially, as a number of his church members 
 were present. They were somewhat surprised to 
 see him at a sale. Dr. Anning would no more 
 have thought of going to a public sale than he 
 would of attending a dog fight. 
 
 These public sales on the Western farms during 
 the winter months are the great social gatherings 
 for all the men of the neighborhood. The farm- 
 ers generally gather about eleven o'clock and a 
 free lunch is served to all. This lunch consists 
 simply of hot coffee and sandwiches, though oc- 
 casionally doughnuts, or cake, are added. 
 
 Allan looked with delight on the large gathering 
 of strong, husky American citizens in Silas Stan- 
 ford's yard that day. These men, or their fathers, 
 hailed from almost every European country, but 
 they were being rapidly fused into one new peo- 
 ple. 
 
 The most wholesome phase of America's varie- 
 gated life to-day is its farm life, especially in the 
 Middle West. 
 
 On the fertile plains of the Mississippi and Mis- 
 souri valleys the various nationalities mingle, in- 
 termarry, grow independent, and become the back- 
 bone of American institutions. 
 
 "Come into the house and get warm, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge!" said Silas Stanford, coming forward to 
 greet Allan. "Come right in! We want you to 
 eat dinner with us inside." 
 
 Inside the commodious farmhouse there was as 
 animated a scene as outside.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 47 
 
 Mrs. Stanford, assisted by several neighbors, 
 had prepared a dinner worthy of a "sale," and to 
 this sumptuous repast all the relations and close 
 friends were invited. 
 
 The auctioneer and the "clerk" of the sale (who 
 kept record of all the buyers) also were part of the 
 company. Allan and Deacon Stanford sat to- 
 gether at the table. Right opposite them was 
 Billy Johnson, the auctioneer, a jovial character 
 who had cried sales around Wellington for over 
 twenty years. 
 
 "My stars," he ejaculated as Allan was intro- 
 duced to him, "you're the first preacher I have 
 seen at a sale in many a year." 
 
 "I came out to get some pointers from you, Mr. 
 Johnson," said Allan laughingly. "I hear you can 
 sell any old thing at your auction sales, while 1 
 have something valuable to give away, and I gen- 
 erally find few to accept it." 
 
 "Oh, I just keep the crowd good-natured and 
 give them a little 'blarney' once in a while," said 
 the auctioneer. 
 
 "That reminds me of an Irishman I met in the 
 village of Blarney, when I was visiting Blarney 
 Castle in Ireland last year," said Allan, who 
 wished to break up the silence and restraint that 
 his presence seemed to impose on most of those 
 present at the dinner table. 
 
 "Tell us of the Irishman," said Billy Johnson at 
 once; "Paddy's always the broth of a boy." 
 
 "Well, I asked this Irishman if he ever ate let- 
 tuce, as we were talking of garden herbs. 'No/ 
 sjiid he, 'I don't like lettuce, and I'm glad I don't
 
 48 THE VICTORY OF. 
 
 like it, for if I liked it I would eat it, and I just 
 hate the stuff.' " 
 
 The company laughed heartily at this Irish joke, 
 ana the conversation brightened around the table. 
 As the dinner proceeded and Mrs. Stanford 
 brought on dish after dish of all kinds of tempting 
 food, Allan did full justice to the meal. The cold 
 drive had sharpened his appetite. 
 
 "My stars," said Billy Johnson at last, as he 
 watched Allan enjoying his meal, as only a man 
 with a hearty appetite can enjoy such a repast; 
 "my stars, I wish I had a little piece of your appe- 
 tite. I wouldn't want it all. It would be too ex- 
 pensive." 
 
 "I was brought up on an Iowa farm," answered 
 Allan, "and I feel at home to-day. If the stuff 
 for sale to-day disappears as fast as these victuals, 
 you won't be long in getting through with the 
 sale." 
 
 "The coffee and sandwiches outside have already 
 disappeared," said the auctioneer, looking out of 
 the window. "Let us hurry out to work. The 
 crowd is waiting for us to begin." 
 
 Before starting the sale Billy Johnson mounted 
 a wagon and made a little speech to the crowd. 
 He told of Silas Stanford's good qualities, and how 
 he was about to retire for a well earned rest in 
 town. He urged all to bid lively, as a good sale 
 helped a community and showed how enterprising 
 they were. 
 
 "I see a preacher here," continued the auc- 
 tioneer, turning to Allan, "and I must tell you a 
 preacher story before I begin. Down South, be-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 49 
 
 fore the war, a colored preacher was explaining 
 about Moses crossing the Red Sea: 
 
 " 'You see, bredren/ said he, 'it was like this. 
 It was an awfu' cold night an' de Red Sea frooze 
 over and, early in de mornin', de Isrilites went 
 ober on de ice. Den de fool Egypshuns started 
 arter dem, and de sun rose, and melt de ice, and 
 de enemies of Gord were all drowned, 'cause de ice 
 broke.' After the sermon one of his more edu- 
 cated hearers spoke to him about his explanation, 
 and told him that his geography told him the Red 
 Sea was near the equator, where it never froze ice 
 at all. The colored preacher was highly indignant 
 when his sermon was criticised in this way, and 
 answered, 'Broder, you tinks yous knows it all, 
 but I want to tell yous dat dis time dat I'm talkin' 
 of was long befo' dey had any jogrefays and long 
 befo' dere was any 'quator.' " 
 
 Allan laughed heartily with the crowd as the 
 auctioneer finished his story, and then the serious 
 work of the day began. 
 
 All the smaller articles were auctioned off first. 
 These were quickly disposed of. Then came the 
 farm machinery and wagons. Bidding was get- 
 ting slow. Many of the farmers were talking loud- 
 ly to one another. 
 
 Billy Johnson saw it was high time for him to 
 attract attention again. This he did in an effective 
 way. 
 
 "What's the matter?" he shouted, so that all be- 
 gan to listen; "what's the matter with you folks? 
 Have you all gone to sleep? Wake up. You're 
 Credit as well as mine is at stake. I am bid two
 
 50 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 dollars on this corn plow. Think of a good corn 
 plow selling for two dollars. You fellows ought 
 to be made to cultivate corn with a hoe. Wake 
 up. What do I hear? Two dollars are bid. 
 Who'll make it four?" 
 
 This little piece of ginger on the auctioneer's 
 part put new life into the bidding. 
 
 "Four," cried a young farmer. 
 
 "I have four dollars for this corn plow," went 
 on the indefatigable Billy; "who'll make it five?" 
 
 Some one raised the bid to five dollars. 
 
 "Now, who'll make it five and a half?" (Five 
 and a half was bid.) "Are you done? All done? 
 Bid six dollars, or I'll sell this fine twenty-dollar 
 plow for five dollars and a half. Shame on you." 
 
 The bid was raised to six, then seven, then eight, 
 and finally the plow was sold for twelve dollars. 
 
 When the hogs and cattle were put up interest 
 in the sale quickened, and a big circle formed 
 around the auctioneer. After the cattle were dis- 
 posed of the horses were led out, last of all. This 
 is by far the most interesting part of the sale, for, 
 like the governors of ancient feasts, modern auc- 
 tioneers at public sales keep the best to the last. 
 A magnificent team of blacks were led out, amid 
 a chorus of such remarks as "Two black beauties," 
 "That's a dandy team," "Fine horses," "Hard to 
 beat that pair." 
 
 Billy Johnson called for bids. Allan made up 
 his mind that one of these black horses was just 
 what his father wanted, but he disliked to break 
 the team, as they were so well matched. 
 
 There was a horse buyer from a neighboring city
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 51 
 
 present, a big, burly fellow, and, as he looked the 
 team over he asked, "Do we bid on one or both?" 
 
 "One man will surely want the pair," said the 
 auctioneer evasively. "They are perfect mates. 
 What do I hear?" 
 
 "I'll bid two hundred and fifty on this nearest 
 horse," said the horse buyer. Of course he wanted 
 the team, but he thought if he took them one at 
 a time he could get them cheaper. 
 
 The auctioneer hesitated to accept the bid. Two 
 hundred and fifty dollars was the full value of the 
 animal, and at last Billy Johnson accepted the 
 offer, saying, "I'll sell you one at a time, if you 
 like." 
 
 No one raised the bid and the horse was 
 "knocked down" to the horse buyer. 
 
 "What do I hear for this other horse. It is 
 worth just as much," cried the auctioneer. "One 
 hundred dollars," said the horse buyer. No one 
 raised the bid. Then the auctioneer realized he 
 had made a bad mistake in splitting the team. The 
 farmers would not buy a single horse unless they 
 could match it, as teams are used universally on 
 Iowa farms. The horse buyer smiled in triumph. 
 That was his trick, to get the one horse, and then 
 bid in the other at his own price." 
 
 By hard work the auctioneer finally raised the 
 bid to one hundred and fifty. There it stuck. 
 Billy Johnson was in despair. 
 
 Allan had been an interested observer of the 
 whole business from the start. He made up his 
 mind to enter the list. 
 
 seventy-five." A pistol shot would not
 
 52 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 have surprised the crowd more as Allan's voice 
 rang out the bid. 
 
 "One eighty," said the horse buyer, with a frown. 
 
 "Two hundred," shouted Allan. 
 
 The crowd cheered. Interest was now at a high 
 pitch. The farmers were craning their necks and 
 watching the two bidders, as sports do the prin- 
 cipals in a prize fight. 
 
 "Two ten," said the horse buyer, with an oath. 
 
 "Two twenty-five." 
 
 "Two thirty." 
 
 "Two hundred and fifty dollars." Allan's blood 
 was up. 
 
 The horse buyer paused. That was the full 
 value of the horse, and he knew it. Even at that 
 price there was no profit in the team for him. But 
 he needed the horse to match the one already 
 bought. His trick had failed ignominiously. 
 
 "Two fifty-five," he growled. 
 
 "Two sixty." Allan snapped out his bid like 
 the click of a revolver. 
 
 The horse buyer was furious. He could not 
 afford to raise the bid, and he was angry at his 
 defeat. Instead of getting a cheap team, as he 
 figured, he had gotten only one horse at the full 
 price. 
 
 "Are you done? All done?" cried the auctioneer. 
 "Sold to Rev. Allan Rutledge for two hundred and 
 sixty dollars." 
 
 "Good for the preacher!" some one shouted, and 
 the men cheered. They had seen through the 
 horse buyer's trick and they were glad to see Allan 
 teach him a lesson.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 53 
 
 As Allan was leading the horse away he passed 
 beside the enraged horse buyer. 
 
 " you, I made you pay for it anyway," mut- 
 tered the big fellow, who evidently had been 
 drinking some. 
 
 Allan's face flushed at the insult. His dark 
 eyes gleamed, but he restrained himself and coolly 
 said to a man beside him, "Hold this horse a min- 
 ute, if you please." Givng the horse into the 
 man's care he turned and faced the surprised 
 horse buyer. "What did you say to me?" he de- 
 manded. The big fellow looked the athletic minis- 
 ter over, and decided that Allan could worst him 
 in more ways than in buying a horse. 
 
 "Why, nothing," he answered in confusion. ''I 
 said you paid a big price for your bargain." 
 
 "Didn't I buy that horse straight?" asked Allan 
 sternly. 
 
 "Why, of course," muttered the crest-fallen 
 bully. 
 
 The crowd was leaving the auctioneer and gath- 
 ering round the two disputants. 
 
 "Act like a gentleman after this when nobody 
 has wronged you," was Allan's parting shot, as he 
 took the halter of his horse. 
 
 The horse buyer slunk away amid the jeers of 
 the crowd. 
 
 "That preacher is a man, all right," said a big, 
 husky farmer, who looked like a grizzly bear in his 
 fur coat and cap. 
 
 "That's our new minister over at Wellington," 
 aid one of Allan's country church members. "He
 
 54 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT LEDGE 
 
 is the real article. Come over and hear him som 
 Sunday." 
 
 "I haven't been in church since my father's 
 funeral," said the farmer, "but I think I would like 
 to hear a man like that preach." 
 
 As Allan drove home with Deacon Stanford the 
 good deacon cheered his heart by repeating some 
 of the kindly expressions in regard to Allan which 
 he heard at the sale from the country members. 
 
 "They are all interested," said Deacon Stanford 
 with an enthusiasm unusual for him. "I believe a 
 great revival is coming to Wellington, and that 
 you are God's chosen instrument, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge." 
 
 "I am trying to do my duty as I see it," an- 
 swered Allan simply. "I thank you for your cor- 
 dial support of my ministry. I may make mis- 
 takes, but I am seeking with all my might to give 
 out the message of the Christ as I find it in the 
 New Testament. I have every confidence in its 
 power to revive a community." 
 
 In the conversation that followed on the long 
 drive back to Wellington, Deacon Stanford and 
 the young preacher grew to understand each other 
 in a way that, later on, was fortunate for both.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 GRACE MARKLEY. 
 
 "Don't cry, Mrs. Antol. You still have Frank 
 and he will graduate this year from high school. 
 He is the youngest boy in the graduating class, 
 and the brightest, his teacher says." 
 
 "Oh, child, my heart's broke. Since Viola's 
 death I've felt so strange I hardly know myself. 
 Poor Antol is not the same, and even Frank has 
 changed." 
 
 Mrs. Antol turned a tear-stained face, on which 
 sorrow had set a deep mark, toward her young 
 visitor as she spoke. Mrs. Antol was a Bohemian 
 of better birth than her humble neighbors, and 
 spoke English correctly, but with a strong, foreign 
 accent. 
 
 This conversation took place in the Antol cot- 
 tage one wintry afternoon, about eight months 
 after that tragic day when the bleeding body of 
 Viola Antol was carried home. The visitor who 
 sought to cheer the desolate mother was Grace 
 Markley. 
 
 It was no new thing for Grace to visit the Antol 
 cottage. Ever since the tragedy in that humble 
 home she had been a frequent visitor. Mr. Mark- 
 ley gave both his son and daughter a regular al- 
 
 ' 55
 
 56 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 lowance every month. The son squandered his 
 in dissipation, but Grace carefully husbanded every 
 dollar, and spent as much of it as possible in doing 
 good. 
 
 Through her assistance Frank Antol was en- 
 abled to keep on at school that winter, and grad- 
 uate with his class. Usually at his age the sons 
 of the foreigners dropped out of school and went 
 to work. 
 
 Grace had come that day especially to invite 
 Mrs. Antol to attend church the next Sabbath, as 
 Mr. Rutledge had announced that a series of Gos- 
 pel meetings would begin that day, lasting for two 
 weeks. This was a strange innovation in the 
 methods of the Wellington Church, but the new 
 pastor was not afraid to adopt new methods. He 
 had urged all the members to advertise the meet- 
 ings and to invite outsiders to attend. 
 
 Grace started out Monday afternoon to carry 
 out the pastor's wishes and her first call was on 
 Mrs. Antol, who had not attended church since 
 Viola's death. When Grace broached the subject, 
 it naturally turned the conversation to Viola, and 
 the poor mother had broken down in grief. 
 
 "Mrs. Antol," said Grace, at last, "it is quite 
 wrong for you to grieve as you do. You ought 
 to cheer up Mr. Antol and Frank. No tears will 
 bring Viola back. Prepare to meet her in a bet- 
 ter world, and meanwhile do not neglect the liv- 
 ing in grieving over the dead." 
 
 This argument seemed to touch the woman. "I 
 don't suppose I have cheered Antol and Frank
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 57 
 
 much," she answered sadly. She always called 
 her husband "Antol." 
 
 Grace Markley saw her advantage and pressed 
 her case. 
 
 "Come out next Sabbath and bring them both 
 with you. Mr. Rutledge will help you. I know 
 he will." 
 
 "Antol speaks well of him. He never gets tired 
 telling of the shop meeting and of the lady's sing- 
 ing, but it makes him cry to speak of it. 
 
 "Come out next Sunday," pleaded Grace. 
 "Promise me you will." 
 
 The fair, sweet, unclouded face of the girl was a 
 strange contra? 4 - to the dark, weary, sorrowful 
 countenance ol the elder woman. 
 
 "I'll come," said Mrs. Antol, at last. "I'll come 
 for Frank's sake. He needs the church. 
 
 "Good!" cried Grace, clapping her hands. 
 "Good! I will tell Mr. Rutledge and he will be 
 pleased. 
 
 There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Antol 
 opened it. There stood Rev. Allan Rutledge with 
 a bundle of handbills. He offered one to Mrs. An- 
 tol, saying: "Here is a notice announcing our Gos- 
 pel meetings in the Wellington Church. They 
 begin next Sabbath evening. Come out if you 
 can." 
 
 "She has just promised me to come," said 
 Grace, coming forward with the least suspicion of 
 a blush on her fair cheek. 
 
 "Good afternoon Miss Markley," said Allan cor- 
 dially. "You ere canvassing too, are you?"
 
 58 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "Come in and sit down for a moment," invited 
 Mrs. Antol. 
 
 "Yes, come in," said Grace. "Mrs. Antol was 
 just telling me that her husband never tires of tell- 
 ing about your wonderful shop meeting." 
 
 A shade passed over Allan's face, as he recalled 
 the poor Bohemian's emotion after that meeting. 
 He came in and sat down in silence. 
 
 "Are you taking bills around like a messenger 
 boy?" asked Grace. 
 
 "Why not?" replied Allan. "I asked the mem- 
 bers of the church to advertise the meetings and 
 I must set a good example. Some of the mem- 
 bers don't need my example, though I see," he 
 added, looking at Grace with a smile. 
 
 "If all your church members were like Grace," 
 said Mrs. Antol gently, "your church would be a 
 wonderful blessing to Wellington." 
 
 "I know it," said Allan, with enthusiasm. 
 
 Grace blushed a deep crimson. Her nature was 
 such that she "dreaded praise, not blame." She 
 sought to turn the conversation into a new chan- 
 nel by asking the minister if he had ever called on 
 Marjorie Steen. 
 
 "No, who is Marjorie Steen?" asked Allan. 
 
 "She is a poor little blind girl," answered Grace, 
 "who lives in a shack across the railroad tracks. 
 Her father is a drinking man and does not proper- 
 ly support the family, but Marjorie and her mother 
 are nice people." 
 
 "That's like Miss Grace," put in Mrs. Antol. 
 "She soon finds out those who need a little cheer 
 in their lives. Heaven knows what would have
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 59 
 
 become of me if it had not been for you, Miss 
 Grace." And once more the tears came to the 
 poor woman's eyes. 
 
 "Oh, it is little I can do," said the girl. "I often 
 think if I were a man I would be able to do some- 
 thing worth Avhile for people, but perhaps if I were 
 a man I would be as selfish as the rest." 
 
 "Are all men selfish, Miss Markley?" asked 
 Allan seriously. 
 
 "No, not all," she answered, in a little con- 
 fusion, "but most men seem to be. They look on 
 their fellows as material for exploitation, instead 
 of looking on them as brother men." 
 
 "I see," said Allan, "you have been thinking 
 about sociological questions. But do not mistake, 
 Miss Markley," he added earnestly, "you are doing 
 a noble work for the needy in Wellington, grander 
 than is possible for most men." 
 
 "I believe in removing the causes of so much 
 misery as we see everywhere in the world," per- 
 sisted the girl. 
 
 "Ah," said Allan gravely, "the causes of most 
 misery lie deeper than you think. Do not des- 
 pise your sphere of labor. A Man once deliberate- 
 ly chose such a life of ministry as yours, and his- 
 tory is proving he has shown how best to redeem 
 the world." 
 
 Grace was silent. Allan had given a new cur- 
 rent to her thoughts. 
 
 "I would like to see Marjorie Steen," continued 
 Allan. "If you have time, I wish you would take 
 me to see her this afternoon." 
 f "I will be delighted !" Grace answered, and get-
 
 60 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ting on her wraps she accompanied Allan down 
 the street. 
 
 The snow had begun to fall again, and was com- 
 ing down in large, beautiful, feathery flakes as the 
 young minister and Elder Markley's daughter 
 walked toward the Steen "shack," as Grace called 
 it. 
 
 This pitiful dwelling was across the railroad 
 tracks, standing by itself on the outskirts of Well- 
 ington, as though banished from the presence of 
 the respectable houses. 
 
 There was a deep cut on both sides of the rail- 
 road, as it passed through this section of the town, 
 hiding the trains from view until they were almost 
 upon the cross streets. 
 
 In ordinary weather the noise of an approach- 
 ing train was clearly heard, and there was no dan- 
 ger, but that afternoon the falling snow dulled the 
 roar of an approaching engine, and the wind car- 
 ried the sound in an opposite direction. 
 
 As they neared the track, Grace stepped a little 
 ahead, as though to hurry across, when suddenly 
 a big mogul engine pushed its black nose into 
 view, and, with a roar, bore down on the girl. 
 Miss Markley was so surprised at the sudden dan- 
 ger that she was helpless to leap to safety. In 
 another instant she would have been hurled in the 
 air, but, quick as thought, Allan reached out, 
 grasped her, and pulled her back. She lay panting 
 in his arms as the California Limited thundered 
 past. 
 
 It was a narrow escape and Grace's face was 
 white as the snow for a moment, while Allan
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 61 
 
 steadied her and offered his arm for support. But 
 Grace quickly recovered herself. 
 
 "What a careless girl I am getting to be!" she 
 exclaimed. "I endangered your life, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge. I thank you for saving mine." 
 
 "It was a close call," said Allan. "I am glad I 
 was able to catch you. Had we not better turn 
 back? After such a shock you will not care to call 
 at Steen's." 
 
 "Oh, yes; let us go in, of course," she answered. 
 "We are right there, and I am all right again." 
 
 In a few moments both of them were inside the 
 "shack." It was a poor hovel, of two small rooms, 
 with rough, uncarpeted floors, and an appearance 
 of general despair. There was no stove except the 
 rusty looking cook stove in the wretched room 
 used as kitchen, dining room and parlor. A bed 
 almost filled the other room. As Allan looked 
 around, one word came into his mind "drink." 
 
 Allan was right. Drink had desolated the for- 
 tunes of the Steens. Even in prosperous Iowa 
 drink made such a poverty stricken hut possible. 
 August Steen, a sturdy Englishman, the father and 
 husband, could have been a good provider for his 
 family had it not been for his accursed love of 
 liquor. 
 
 "How are you to-day, Marjorie?" said Grace 
 pleasantly, as the mother led her little blind daugh- 
 ter, about eight or nine years old, toward her. 
 
 "I'm lonely," said the little one out of her dark- 
 ness, as she groped with her hands to find Miss 
 Markley's face. 
 ** Grace put out her arms and lifted her up. As
 
 62 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 soon as Marjorie touched her cheek with her hand, 
 she threw her arms around Grace's neck, kissing 
 her several times. 
 
 "I am so glad you came to see me to-day. I get 
 so lonesome," said the child. "Tell me a story, 
 Miss Grace." 
 
 "I'll tell you a story another day, Marjorie, but 
 to-day our minister, Mr. Rutledge, has called to see 
 you." 
 
 "Where is he?" asked the child. 
 
 Allan rose and knelt in front of Miss Markley, 
 saying: "Here I am, Marjorie. I want to be your 
 friend. Kiss me, and I will tell you a story." 
 
 He took the child's hand and passed it over his 
 cleanly shaven face. Then he placed it on his 
 heavy locks of hair. 
 
 The little girl was silent, as though trying to 
 learn who this stranger was who had come into 
 her little, lonely, dark world. Allan dropped her 
 hand, and she put it out again herself, and slowly 
 passed it over his face. This seemed to fulty as- 
 sure her. She put her face forward and Allan 
 kissed her cheek tenderly, as though it were that 
 of his own child. 
 
 "I like you," said Marjorie to Allan. "Now, tell 
 me a story." 
 
 "All right," said the minster. 
 
 He motioned Mrs. Steen to a seat and asked : 
 "Doesn't Marjorie like singing?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," she answered. "I can sing. I know 
 a song that Miss Grace taught me." 
 
 "Sing it to me," said Allan. 
 
 Marjorie slipped down from Grace's knee, and,
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 63 
 
 standing beside her, began, in a clear, sweet voice, 
 the hymn so many children love: 
 
 Jesus wants me for a sunbeam, 
 To shine for him each day; 
 
 In every way try to please him, 
 At home, at school, at play. 
 
 "A sunbeam, a sunbeam, 
 Jesus wants me for a sunbeam, 
 A sunbeam a sunbeam, 
 I'll be a sunbeam for him." 
 
 As she sang, the strange mystery of sacred song 
 again wrought its metamorphosis. The wretched 
 kitchen in the old shack disappeared. It became 
 a godly room. In the gathering shades of that 
 winter evening it seemed to Allan that cherub 
 faces hovered around the little singer. He felt 
 himself in a sanctuary. A strain from "The Holy 
 City" mingled with the song of the child: 
 
 "I heard the children singing, and ever as they 
 sang, 
 
 Methought the voice of angels from heaven in an- 
 swer rang." 
 
 There flashed through his mind also the words: 
 "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little 
 ones for I say unto you that in heaven their an- 
 gels do always behold the face of my Father." 
 
 "A long while ago, Marjorie," he began quietly, 
 as soon as the little girl was again seated on Miss
 
 64 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Markley's knee, "when Jesus was on earth there 
 was a blind man, sitting one day by the side of the 
 road." 
 
 The poor little fellow-sufferer leaned forward in- 
 tently, so as to hear all about the blind man. 
 
 "Jesus came along that way, and saw him and 
 was very sorry for him, for Jesus was always 
 sorry to see any affliction. So Jesus made up his 
 mind to cure this blind man. He stopped in front 
 of him and spat on the ground. Everybody won- 
 dered what Jesus was going to do. He soon 
 showed them. He made a little plaster of mud, 
 and put it on the man's eyes, and told him to go 
 to a pool, called the Pool of Siloam, and wash off 
 the mud, and that then his eyes would be all right. 
 The man at once took his cane, and, using it to 
 guide him, soon found his way to the pool. He 
 stooped down at once and washed the mud from 
 his eyes, as Jesus told him to do, and then looked 
 up. He gave a shout of joy, for he found he was 
 able to see. He was so glad, he went home sing- 
 ing, and shouting, and telling everybody Jesus had 
 cured him." 
 
 When Allan had reached this part of the simple 
 Gospel story, little Marjorie slipped down from 
 Grace's knee, and walking in Allan's direction with 
 outstretched hands, pleaded: 
 
 "Oh, sir, ask Jesus to cure me. I want to see 
 so bad. Won't you ask Jesus to put mud on my 
 eyes, so I can see?" 
 
 Allan stopped his story, put out his strong 
 hands, and lifted the child in his arms. Placing 
 'her gently on his knee, he examined carefully her
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 65 
 
 eyes. As he looked, Grace watched him intently. 
 A sudden joy leaped to his countenance. He gave 
 a glad cry. 
 
 "Yes, my child," he said to Marjorie, "Jesus can 
 open your eyes." 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad, I am so glad!'" said the 
 blind child, throwing her arms around Allan's 
 neck. 
 
 "It is only a cataract, I am sure," said Allan, an- 
 swering- Grace's wondering look. "There is an 
 opacity of the crystalline lens, but I am sure the 
 eye and optic nerve are all right. An operation 
 will fully restore her sight." 
 
 "Can Marjorie be cured?" asked the mother 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Has a physician ever examined her eyes?" 
 asked Allan, anxious to make no mistake, and 
 dreading lest he had inspired false hopes. 
 
 "No," said the poor mother; "we all thought she 
 was hopelessly blind." 
 
 "Not at all," answered Allan. "It is only a cat- 
 aract. I will telegraph to Des Moines to-night for 
 Dr. Reuff, the eye specialist. It will be a simple 
 operation. The doctor can be here to-morrow 
 afternoon." 
 
 Before leaving Allan knelt on the rough pine 
 floor and prayed. It was not the usual kind of 
 praying, Grace thought. He simply talked to God, 
 as a man talks to his friend. He asked the Pres- 
 ence which seemed to fill the lowly hut, to bless 
 the father and mother, and open the eyes of the 
 child. 
 
 was only a sentence or two, but long after
 
 66 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 he left there was a reverent hush on both mother 
 and child. 
 
 "Was God here?" asked Marjorie, some time 
 later. 
 
 "He was," answered the mother simply. 
 
 The next afternoon Dr. Reuff came, and Allan 
 took him to the Steen cottage. Miss Markley 
 also accompanied him. 
 
 With new hope in her heart the mother had 
 mopped the floor, blackened the stove, put up fresh 
 curtains at the windows, and with a woman's deft 
 touch had transformed the hut. 
 
 After a careful examination, in which he cor- 
 roborated Allan's diagnosis, Dr. Reuff performed 
 skillfully the delicate operation. A cataract was 
 removed from both eyes, and little Marjorie was 
 able to see her mother's face and God's beautiful 
 world. Only one glad, rapturous, wondering look 
 was permitted that day, and then the eyes were 
 bandaged up again. 
 
 A few days later, on Saturday afternoon, Allan 
 called at the home. Marjorie met him at the door 
 with a cry of joy. 
 
 "Oh, papa!" she shouted, bringing him in front 
 of the big, burly Englishman. "Oh, papa, here is 
 the man who asked Jesus to cure me!" 
 
 It was the first time Allan had ever met Mr. 
 Steen. 
 
 "How are you!" he exclaimed heartily. "Little 
 Marjorie can now see what a fine, big father she 
 has." 
 
 "There's not much to see in me," groaned the
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 67 
 
 poor fellow, and Allan could see "remorse" writ- 
 ten on his dejected face. 
 
 Allan at once understood. 
 
 "I don't know what's the matter with him," said 
 Mrs. Steen, coming forward. "Yesterday, when I 
 took the bandages off and he saw Marjorie could 
 see, he was so glad he cried. After a while he be- 
 came melancholy and last night he hardly slept all 
 night. He won't eat, and he hasn't hardly been 
 out of the house all day." 
 
 "Mr. Steen," said Allan, with a sudden inspira- 
 tion, "come out to church to-morrow night. We 
 begin our Gospel meetings. Come out and start 
 life afresh for the sake of Marjorie." 
 
 "By God's help, I will!" answered the English- 
 man, as he grasped Allan's outstretched hand. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and as Allan's eye met his 
 in the mutual confidence of man toward man the 
 minister said: 
 
 "Mr. Steen, you can make a man of yourself yet. 
 It is in you. I will look for you at church to-mor- 
 row night." 
 
 "I'll be there," said Steen, and he kept his word.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE BEGINNINGS OF OPPOSITION. 
 
 "Mary, we had an exciting time at our meeting 
 last night," said Deacon Stanford to his wife one 
 morning, not long after the day of his brother's 
 public sale. 
 
 "Tell me about it, Samuel," said Mrs. Stanford. 
 She was one of those whole-souled, elderly ladies, 
 who, through their practical ways and devout spir- 
 its, help much to brighten and improve the world, 
 though in a quiet, and often unappreciated, way. 
 
 She shared with her husband an ardent affection 
 for Allan, and he often dropped in to take supper 
 with them. 
 
 "We have turned Markley down at last," said 
 her husband, with a twinkle in his eye, "but I am 
 afraid he will make trouble for Mr. Rutledge. He 
 has always ruled our church before." 
 
 The meeting Deacon Stanford referred to was a 
 full meeting of all the officers of the Wellington 
 Church, called by Allan to consider a "Forward 
 Movement." At this meeting Allan proposed a 
 series of Gospel meetings, a thing unheard of be- 
 fore in the church for a score of years. 
 
 "Tell me all about it, Samuel," repeated Mrs. 
 Stanford, sitting down. 
 
 63
 
 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT LEDGE 69 
 
 The Deacon began: "Well, we met at the church 
 last night, as you know, and every officer was pres- 
 ent. They seemed to surmise something import- 
 ant was going to happen. Mr. Rutledge called on 
 me for a word of prayer, and then he explained 
 the 'Forward Movement,' as he called it, and 
 wanted to know if the officers were in favor of a 
 series of Gospel meetings. 
 
 "Elder Markley was on his feet the moment Mr. 
 Rutledge got through. 'I don't think, sir,' he 
 said, 'that we need a 'Forward Movement' (there 
 was a sneer in his voice as he said it). We have 
 gone too far forward now. Our church is being 
 turned into a regular Salvation Army.' 
 
 " 'Ought not the church to seek to bring salva- 
 tion to men, since Christ died to make salvation 
 possible for all?' said our pastor, and I saw a 
 gleam in his eye like fire. 'If the whole Church 
 became an army of salvation, would not the world 
 soon be saved?' 
 
 " 'You are bringing too many fads into the 
 church, Mr. Rutledge,' Markley answered gruffly. 
 
 " 'I confess,' said he, 'I do believe in new meth- 
 ods in our church work if they are needed. I have 
 been endeavoring to introduce effective ways of 
 accomplishing things for God.' 
 
 " 'That's just the trouble,' argued Markley, and 
 we could all see he was getting angry. 'None of 
 us feel at home in the church any more. You 
 have made more changes in six months than Dr. 
 Anning made in sixteen years.' 
 
 "'Mr. Markley,' answered Mr. Rutledge and I 
 **could see he was holding himself in restraint, 'I
 
 70 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 noticed in your factory the other day some fine 
 new lathes you have recently installed. You be- 
 lieve in keeping up with the times in the factory, 
 but you think it is all right for God's church to 
 become a back number.' 
 
 " 'Religion and business are two different things,' 
 snapped out Markley. 
 
 : ' 'I notice some men,' said our pastor, in the 
 quiet, impressive way that he uses sometimes, 'I 
 notice some men who seem to think so. I believe, 
 however, that the world would have more confi- 
 dence in the honesty of such men if they would 
 put a little more religion into their business life, 
 and a little more business into their religious life.' 
 
 " 'That's right,' chimed in Dr. Lucas. You know 
 he is a warm friend to Mr. Rutledge. Before 
 Markley could say any more our pastor spoke up : 
 'We are all officers of the church. Mr. Markley 
 has given us his opinion. What do the rest of you 
 think.?' 
 
 " 'I am against any changes in our old way of do- 
 ing things,' wheezed out old Abe Daniels. It was 
 the first church meeting he had attended in years. 
 Old Abe is a good man, but he does just what 
 Markley says and always has done so. 
 
 " 'I'm heartily in favor of such meetings as our 
 pastor proposes,' said I, getting on my feet. You 
 ought to have seen Markley glare at me. It was 
 the first time I ever crossed him in a church meet- 
 ing. Dr. Anning was always so eager for the 
 peace and harmony of the church that I often had 
 to bite my tongue to keep still, but I didn't want 
 to offend good, old Dr. Anning. This time I knew
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 71 
 
 I was right, and I went ahead and had my say. 
 'Yes/ says I, 'we need such meetings. Our young 
 people need them. The time is ripe. I am sure 
 they will be a success.' 
 
 " 'So am I,' said one after the other, until it was 
 evident every man was with our pastor except 
 Markley and old Abe. Markley looked as if he 
 had suddenly sat down on an icy sidewalk. 
 
 " 'Someone make a motion/ said Mr. Rutledge. 
 
 " 'I move we have special Gospel meetings, to be 
 arranged for at once by our pastor/ said I. 
 
 " 'I second the motion/ quickly responded Dr. 
 Lucas. 
 
 " 'All in favor say 'Aye/ said our pastor, and a 
 chorus of hearty 'ayes' was heard. 'Those of a 
 contrary opinion say 'No/ he went on. Markley 
 and Old Abe eyed each other, but they knew it 
 was hopeless to object, and they were silent. 
 
 "I could see Elder Markley took it hard; but,, 
 Mary, that was the best meeting the officers of the 
 Wellington Church have had in twenty years. 
 We'll see a big change in Wellington soon." 
 
 After getting his church officers behind him, as 
 Deacon Stanford related to his wife, Allan went 
 to work with energy, getting ready for the Gospel 
 meetings. 
 
 Frederick Markley, much to his relief, refused 
 to lead the singing, and a trained chorus leader, 
 Professor Tilley, of Chicago, an old friend of 
 Allan's, was engaged. Allan decided to preach 
 himself during the two weeks of special services. 
 He got out a huge quantity of handbills, which 
 read as follows:
 
 72 THE VICTORY OP 
 
 "A Fight 
 
 will begin against Unbelief, Ungodliness, 
 and every form of evil at the 
 
 Wellington Church, 
 next Sabbath evening, and continue for 
 
 two weeks. 
 
 Rev. Allan Rutledge will preach every 
 evening. Professor Tilley and an evan- 
 gelistic chorus of fifty voices will lead the 
 music of the campaign." 
 
 These bills he distributed far and wide in and 
 around Wellington. He was distributing some of 
 these very bills himself the day he met Grace 
 Markley at the Antol cottage. He intrusted a 
 number of the bills to Mr. McGregor, foreman in 
 the paint shop of Markley's factory to be given out 
 to all the men. McGregor engaged the Irishman, 
 Pat McGinnis, to go around the shop one evening, 
 just before quitting time, and hand a bill to every 
 man. Pat described his work as an advertising 
 agent to Mrs. McGinnis that evening at the sup- 
 per table. 
 
 "Sarah," said he, after he had buttered a big 
 slice of bread for about four or five of his younger 
 children (Pat had an Irish family, even if he did 
 iive in Iowa), "I had a foine toime this evenin' 
 a-helpin' the preacher." 
 
 "Helping the preacher?" echoed his spouse. 
 
 "Yes," went on Pat, "just a little before we quit 
 lo-night the foreman says to me, says he, 'Pat, 
 go around and hand out these bills. Mr. Rutledge 
 wants every man to get wan.' I tuk the bills and
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 73 
 
 read wan, and it said: A foight agin unbelafe an' 
 ungodliness/ or something like that, but it meant 
 Mr. Rutledge was going to preach every night for 
 two weeks. As I was going around who should I 
 meet but the boss himself, old Markley. 
 
 "'What are you doin', Pat?' says he; 'what are 
 those bills about?' 
 
 " 'It's a foight,' said I. 
 
 "'A foight?' he yelled; 'what do you mane 
 handin' round bills for a foight, ye haythen?' 
 
 " 'I'm no haythen/ says I ; 'this foight is agin the 
 devil/ and I handed him a bill. He read it over 
 and looked cross as Job's turkey and said: 'That 
 man Rutledge bates the divil/ 
 
 " 'Shure, we all know he does/ says I 'an' his 
 intention is to bate him.' 
 
 "'Does what?' said he, kind o' sharplike. 
 
 "'Bate the divil/ said I. 'What the divil are 
 you talkin' about?' said the boss in a rage. 
 'Why/ says I, 'ye just said that Mr. Rutledge 
 bate the divil, and I said that he intended to 
 do it, and we fellows all think he's good and 
 able to, glory be to God/ 'Pat/ said he, cooling 
 down a little, 'they tell me ivery Irishman loikes 
 a foight. How is it?' 'I have a friend called 
 Mike, who is a great foighter/ says I. 'Tell me 
 about Mike/ said the boss, for he loikes me Irish 
 stories. 'It was loike this' said I. 'In the Span- 
 ish War after the battle of Santiago, Gineral 
 Shafter met Mike and said, says he, 'Me foine fel- 
 low, and what did you do in the foight?" "Do," 
 said Mike "may it plase your Honor, I walked up 
 "bSuldly to a Spaniard, and cut off his feet." "Cut
 
 74. THE VICTORY OF 
 
 off his feet?" said Gineral Shafter; "why did you 
 not cut off his head?" "Ah, and faith, that was 
 off already," said Mike.' " 
 
 "Pat McGinnis," said his better half reprovingly, 
 "you shouldn't tell Mr. Markley such Irish stories 
 at all, at all." 
 
 "Och," said Pat, "you ought to have heard the 
 boss laugh. It put him in good humor agin, for 
 he said, 'Pat, you're all right,' and walked on, and 
 I gave a bill to every mother's son o' the men, 
 and I asked them all to come out and hear Mr. Rut- 
 ledge, and they'll come," added Pat, with assur- 
 ance. 
 
 Mr. Markley was amused with the Irishman's 
 joke, but he went home with bitter feelings against 
 this new, upstart preacher, who was turning 
 everything upside down in Wellington. He had 
 just seated himself in a comfortable Morris chair, 
 in his luxurious home, when Grace came in after 
 calling at Steen's with Mr. Rutledge. 
 
 "Oh, papa," she said, as she came forward and 
 kissed him ; "I nearly had an accident this after- 
 noon. I was crossing the track out near Steen's 
 'shack' and I did not hear the train, and was al- 
 most caught. Had it not been that Mr. Rutledge 
 pulled me back I don't think I could have es- 
 caped." 
 
 "Rutledge," said her father; "what were you do- 
 ing with Rutledge away in that part of town?" 
 
 "Oh, Grace thinks Rutledge is the only man in 
 town," sneered her brother, Frederick, who was 
 reading the afternoon paper in a chair in front of 
 a grate fire.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 75 
 
 Paying no heed to her brother's sneer, Grace 
 answered her father: "We met by accident in the 
 Antol cottage, and I was taking him to see little 
 blind Marjorie." 
 
 At the mention of Antol's cottage Frederick 
 Markley looked around suddenly. Then, throwing 
 down his paper, he proceeded to leave the room. 
 
 "Grace," said her father severely, "you must 
 stop this nonsense of running around among those 
 beggars. That drunken Steen is a disgrace to 
 Wellington. You can't help a man like that." 
 
 "I never see him at all," she answered; "I am 
 trying to comfort poor Mrs. Steen and little Mar- 
 jorie, and, oh, papa, Mr. Rutledge says Marjorie's 
 eyes can be cured by an operation and she will be 
 able to see. Dr. Reuff is coming from Des Moines 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Pshaw," said her father in a tone of disgust; 
 "another wild notion of the fellow's. I sometimes 
 think Rutledge is half-crazy." 
 
 "Papa," said his daughter with tears in her eyes, 
 "how can you talk so about our minister? He 
 spends his whole time in trying to do good." 
 
 "Preachers are a nuisance, anyway," he an- 
 swered with a sneer, "especially when they set out 
 to mind everybody's business except their own." 
 
 "The people of Wellington don't think so," said 
 Grace with dignity. "Everyone I meet speaks in 
 the highest terms of Mr. Rutledge and his minis- 
 try." 
 
 "Some are already sick and tired of him," re- 
 sj*onded Markley.
 
 76 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT LEDGE 
 
 "Who are they?" inquired the girl promptly. 
 "I'm one of them," said her father fiercely, and 
 he strode out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE REVIVAL. 
 
 The eventful Sabbath evening had arrived on 
 which the much discussed fight between faith and 
 unbelief was to begin at the Wellington Church. 
 A vast congregation crowded every part of the 
 capacious auditorium. Chairs were placed in the 
 aisles, and these also were quickly filled. The 
 attendance of men predominated over that of 
 women. The students and professors of Welling- 
 ton College were there in force. The business and 
 professional men of the community were scattered 
 among the audience. The workingmen were there 
 almost to a man. Our old friends from the paint 
 shop were seated well up in front. Foreman Mc- 
 Gregor, Luther Schneider, Louis Antoine, Pat Mc- 
 Ginnis and Jake Borner sat together. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Antol and Frank Antol were in the center 
 of the church, three pews from the front. 
 
 To the surprise of all Mr. Steen, perfectly sober, 
 arrived early and made his way to a front seat. 
 Elder Markley was nowhere to be seen, but Mrs. 
 Markley sat in her accustomed place. Grace 
 Markley was in the chorus, which occupied a tem- 
 porary platform back of the pulpit. The chorus 
 consisted of fifty voices, and Professor Tilley had 
 
 77
 
 78 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 been drilling them for several days. The chorus 
 director stood on the front of the platform beside 
 Allan, as the great congregation rose and joined 
 in singing, with the utmost enthusiasm, the open- 
 ing hymn : 
 
 "Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, 
 With the cross of Jesus going on before." 
 
 As Allan listened to the singing and gazed into 
 the eager, upturned faces before him, he had no 
 doubt of the issue of the fight. It was already a 
 victory. 
 
 Just before Allan preached a popular hymn was 
 sung, with this refrain: 
 
 "This is the message that I bring, 
 
 A message angels fain would sing; 
 
 'Oh, be ye reconciled/ Thus saith my Lord and 
 
 King, 
 'Oh, be ye reconciled to God.' " 
 
 As this noble chorus rose from the vast throng 
 Allan felt elated and glad. Never before did he 
 so fully realize the grandeur of a preacher's voca- 
 tion, and the pre-eminent importance of the mes- 
 sage which every ambassador of Christ delivers to 
 men. 
 
 As the last refrain died away in silence the au- 
 dience sat in expectancy. Not a sound was heard. 
 Every eye was fastened on the tall, athletic young 
 man, who stepped to the front of the platform and 
 faced the people. The flush of health was on his
 
 r ALLAN RUT LEDGE 79 
 
 cheek; his eyes sparkled with animation; every 
 power of his body and mind seemed in perfect 
 self-control. He was the living picture of a man. 
 "If thou" knowest the gift of God." His voice 
 rang out, clear and true, as he announced his text. 
 "These words are found in the conversation be- 
 tween Jesus and the woman at the well." With a 
 few graphic touches Allan pictured this historic 
 scene. Then he went on: "Jesus came not to con- 
 demn the world, but that the world through him 
 might be saved. Wherever he went the Son of 
 Man had one cry for earth's sons and daughters: 
 
 " 'Come home, come home, ye who are weary, 
 
 come home. 
 
 Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, 
 Calling, O sinner, come home.' " 
 
 Allan's voice rang out like a trumpet. 
 
 "If you knew the gift of God, my people, you 
 would then know the true value of men and 
 women, no matter who they are. That black soot 
 which defiles the snow is carbon, out of which, in 
 the alchemy of nature, God makes the beauteous, 
 lustrous diamonds. So these blots on humanity, 
 whom we call the low and degraded, are after all 
 human souls out of which, in the alchemy of grace, 
 Christ can make his rarest jewels. 
 
 "This poor woman was of no account in Sa- 
 maria, but Christ saw the human soul within, 
 capable of restoration and of becoming a pure 
 gem to sparkle in his crown forever. If you only 
 knew the gift of God, you would appreciate what 
 Christ means to the world. Alas!" he cried,
 
 80 THE VICTORY OF. 
 
 "alas, how few even in his church fully appreciate 
 the Christ! He can take away sin and sorrow, 
 and fear. He can give to all men confidence, hope 
 and life. He can transform every soul and trans- 
 figure every home." 
 
 Grace was watching Mr. and Mrs. Antol. Their 
 eyes never left Allan's face. They drank in every 
 word. As Allan told of Christ's power to satisfy 
 the soul and heal its sorrows, tears streamed 
 down their cheeks. Grace knew that hereafter the 
 Antol cottage would have a new peace and hope. 
 
 "If you only knew the gift of God," again cried 
 the preacher, "and what this Water of Life means 
 to the parched and thirsty men and women around 
 you, O Christians, you could find no rest in your 
 souls until you told everywhere the story of Jesus 
 and his love. 
 
 "It was at Fredericksburg, after a bloody bat- 
 tle. Hundreds of Union soldiers lay wounded on 
 the field. All night and all next day the space 
 was swept by artillery from both armies but no 
 one could venture to the relief of the dying men. 
 All that time agonizing cries went up from the 
 field for water, but men cried in vain. At last, a 
 brave fellow in gray could endure the piteous cries 
 no longer. 'General,' said Richard Kirkland to his 
 commander, 'I can't stand it. Those poor fellows 
 out there have been crying for water all night and 
 all day, and I can't bear it any longer. I want to 
 carry out water over the battlefield.' The General 
 assured him it would mean instant death to expose 
 himself on the field, but the young soldier begged 
 so piteously that the General gave him leave.
 
 81 
 
 "Provided with a supply of water, the brave sol- 
 dier stepped over the rampart and started on his 
 Christlike mission. Amid flying bullets and burst- 
 ing shells he made his way to the nearest sufferer, 
 and gently raised his head to give him the cool- 
 ing drink. At once the Union soldiers understood 
 his errand of mercy and for one hour and a half 
 every gun was stilled, and Richard Kirkland went 
 over that battlefield as an angel of mercy. He 
 moistened parched lips, straightened cramped 
 limbs, covered the dying with army coats, tender- 
 ly as a mother would cover her child. 
 
 "Will the soldier in gray brave death to give the 
 water of earth to wounded men on the field of 
 Fredericksburg, but no soldier of Christ will vol- 
 unteer to go out on the battlefield of life and mois- 
 ten parched lips with the Water of Life? Forbid 
 it, Almighty God!" 
 
 Grace, from her vantage point in the chorus, 
 looked at the audience. An unseen Presence 
 seemed to brood over the listening throng. She 
 saw Mr. Steen listen with intent gaze, as Allan 
 told the story of the brave Richard Kirkland. The 
 men from her father's factory were spellbound, 
 hanging on the very lips of the preacher. 
 
 At the close of his sermon Allan made an un- 
 expected appeal. It was like a flank attack and its 
 success was complete. He had arranged with 
 Grace Markley to bring little Marjorie Steen to 
 the service. She sat with Grace, concealed among 
 the chorus, until the close of the sermon. 
 
 Before concluding, Allan spoke of Christ as the 
 Light of the world, as well as the Water of Life.
 
 82 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "As the glorious sun gives our earth light and 
 warmth," he proclaimed, "so the Saviour of men 
 enlightens all who come to him. Many of you 
 have been stumbling in darkness. Is it not so?" 
 he asked in tender tones. 
 
 "Follow Christ," he cried, "and your darkness 
 is gone. 'He that followeth me,' says Jesus, 'shall 
 not walk in darkness, but shall have the Light of 
 Life/ " 
 
 He then told briefly the touching story of Mar- 
 jorie Steen, and her recovery from her blindness. 
 The audience was deeply moved when Allan fin- 
 ished by saying: "Marjorie is here to-night to bear 
 witness to Jesus. She will sing to us an invitation 
 hymn." 
 
 Led by Grace Markley, the little girl came for- 
 ward. She was dressed in white, even to her lit- 
 tle shoes. Her eyes blinked in astonishment at 
 the great crowd, but, assisted by Grace, she began 
 the hymn: 
 
 "The whole world was lost in darkness and sin, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus; 
 Like sunshine at noonday his glory shone in, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 As she sang the chorus, her voice rose in beau- 
 tiful cadences until it filled the church. Not a 
 word was lost. Marjorie had a remarkable voice 
 for a child, as Grace Markley had soon discerned. 
 It was a sweet, clear, birdlike, and yet rich and 
 strong. 
 
 It was with strange and new emotions that the
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 83 
 
 audience listened to this sweet singer, lately in 
 darkness and now rejoicing in the wonders of the 
 light: 
 
 "Oh, come to the Light, 'tis shining for thee; 
 How sweetly the light has dawned upon me. 
 Once I was blind, but now I can see, 
 The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 When she reached the third verse of the hymn 
 Marjorie had full confidence in herself. She sang 
 without effort, like a bird. She forgot the au- 
 dience. She was thinking of her joy in finding 
 light, and of Jesus, whom, above all others, she 
 thanked for the new found joy of seeing. Her 
 singing melted hearts, like water, as she sang: 
 
 "Ye dwellers in darkness, with sin-blinded eyes, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus; 
 Go wash at his bidding, and light will arise, 
 
 The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 And once more the chorus rose: 
 
 "Oh, come to the Light; 'tis shining for thee; 
 How sweetly the Light has dawned upon me. 
 Once I was blind, but now I can see, 
 The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 Higher and higher rose the song waves of mel- 
 ody, until they seemed to reach a sunny shore and 
 break. 
 
 Allan glanced at Mr. Steen. His head was
 
 84 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 bowed in his hands. His frame was quivering 
 with his intense emotion. There were few dry 
 eyes in the church. 
 
 "The Light of the world is Jesus." 
 
 Tenderly the sweet voice of Marjorie lingered on 
 the closing word. 
 
 As Grace Markley led her back among the 
 chorus, Allan rose, and bowed his head in silent 
 prayer. All seemed to be praying in their hearts. 
 
 "Our Father," Allan began, "help us to-night. 
 jWe thank thee that' Marjorie can see, but, oh, 
 there are many here who cannot see the Light 
 of the world. Help them to come to Him to-night. 
 Help them to give up every sin and break with 
 the past and start life afresh with Jesus. O Christ 
 of God, we plead for the Water of Life to-night." 
 
 That was all, but it was enough. The Water 
 of Life was flowing abundantly, and the thirst of 
 weary years was being quenched. The chorus be- 
 gan to repeat softly the refrain : 
 
 "Oh, come to the Light, 'tis shinng for thee." 
 
 And they came. 
 
 The first man to come forward and grasp Allan's 
 hand, in token of a new start in life, was Mr. 
 Steen. With tears coursing down his cheeks, the 
 big Englishman rose deliberately to his feet and 
 walked to where Allan was standing in front of the 
 platform. Then the Bohemian infidel, Louis An- 
 toine, came forward. He was followed by the
 
 RUT LEDGE ss 
 
 Irishman, Pat McGinnis, by; Luther Schneider, the 
 German, by Jake Borner, and a number of others 
 from the factory. 
 
 Young men began to stream up the aisles. 
 Young women came also. From all parts of the 
 church, and from the chorus they came. Old and 
 young, rich and poor, American and foreigner, the 
 banker and the factory hand, the lawyer and the 
 school girl, the college student and the farmer, 
 the business man and his clerks, all became one in 
 Christ, as they dedicated their lives anew in the 
 light of the vision of their Saviour. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Antol and Frank came among the rest. Over one 
 hundred and fifty crowded around the platform, 
 and filled the entire vacant space in the front of 
 the church. 
 
 At a sign from Allan all bowed in prayer, and 
 in the hush that followed Allan said simply: "O 
 God, we thank thee for what we have seen and 
 heard." 
 
 The chorus, with the jubilant note of victory in 
 their song, began : 
 
 "O happy day, that fixed my choice 
 On thee, my Saviour and my God, 
 
 Well may this glowing heart rejoice 
 And tell its raptures all abroad." 
 
 Grace Markley greeted Allan for a moment as 
 he passed out, after the service had ended. "You 
 have won a great victory, Mr. Rutledge," she said. 
 - "It was not mine," he answered. "It was 
 Christ's victory."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FREDERICK MARKLEY CALLS ON MABEL) 
 GRAYSON. 
 
 "Come in, Cousin Frederick, I did not know you 
 were in Des Moines." 
 
 "I came up for a few days on business, and, as 
 I heard you had returned from the South earlier 
 than you expected I could not help calling to see 
 you." 
 
 Frederick Markley was standing at the door of 
 Judge Grayson's stately mansion as he told this 
 lie to Mabel Grayson. He had come to Des 
 Moines to escape the Gospel meetings. After 
 spending a few days among a fast set of his ac- 
 quaintance in the capitol city of Iowa, he had 
 merely called on his cousin for a diversion. 
 
 As young Markley looked at the Judge's fair 
 daughter that morning, she was radiant with 
 health and beauty. Blossoming into a most beau- 
 tiful womanhood, it was no wonder her smile of 
 welcome delighted such a man as Frederick Mark- 
 ley. He entered the home with a glad heart and 
 Mabel took his hat and coat. 
 
 "Tell me about the wonderful meetings you are 
 having in Wellington," began Mabel, as soon as 
 they were seated in the parlor. "I had a letter 
 from Grace to-day and she says she never saw 
 anything like them." 
 
 S6
 
 THE VICTOR Y OF ALLAN R UT 'LEDGE 87 
 
 "I left Wellington last Friday," said Markley, 
 with the suspicion of a frown, "and I do not know 
 what has been going on at home the past few 
 days." 
 
 "Grace says that Mr. Rutledge has become a 
 wonderful evangelist," went on Mabel, with en- 
 thusiasm. "I should have thought that you could 
 not be spared from the choir during the special 
 meetings." 
 
 "Oh, Rutledge has hired a fellow from Chicago 
 to lead a big chorus for his meetings. He is turn- 
 ing everything upside down, to the disgust of my 
 father." 
 
 Markley wanted to make a good impression on 
 his cousin that morning, but the mention of Allan 
 Rutledge's name was like a spark falling into gun- 
 powder, and he could not help flaring up. Mabel 
 did not understand his mood, but she was anxious 
 to help Mr. Rutledge. She imagined that Freder- 
 ick, like many sincere Christians, did not approve 
 of evangelistic methods, and she desired to assist 
 in the work at Wellington by winning him over 
 to Allan's program. 
 
 Accordingly, she changed the conversation, since 
 she saw she was annoying him, and they chatted 
 pleasantly on congenial subjects. As he was leav- 
 ing, Mabel invited him to come back to dinner 
 that evening. 
 
 "We are to have a distinguished guest at our 
 dinner party to-night," she said. "William Jen- 
 nings Bryan is to be here. He lectures to-night, 
 3^)u know, at the Auditorium, and papa is to intro- 
 duce him. Come and meet Mr. Bryan," she
 
 88 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 urged, "and we will go together to hear his lec- 
 ture. I came back from the South to be here on 
 this occasion, so as to meet and hear him." 
 
 Young Markley was delighted with the prospect 
 of meeting the famous Bryan, and also congratu- 
 lated himself on the reception Mabel had given 
 him. 
 
 "By Jove!" he said to himself, as he went down 
 the steps with his fair cousin's "Good-by" ringing 
 in his ears, "Mabel is a fine girl. She gets pret- 
 tier every day. I'll have a good try for her my- 
 self." 
 
 That evening Frederick Markley was a guest at 
 the Judge's home, and was introduced to Mr. 
 Bryan and some of the most prominent men of 
 the State, who had come to Des Moines to hear 
 the far-famed Nebraskan speak, and had been in- 
 vited to meet him at Judge Grayson's dinner party. 
 
 Mr. Bryan delighted the company with his gen- 
 ial manners and lively conversation. After a while 
 the talk drifted to religious subjects, and Mabel 
 was much interested in Mr. Bryan's quaint way of 
 setting forth his belief in God. 
 
 "I am a farmer now, you know, Judge Gray- 
 son," said the great political leader, "and I get a 
 great many lessons out on my farm. I found a 
 hen's egg the other day and I began to reason 
 about it. I said to myself, "Inside this egg is an 
 invisible something that can make within the shell 
 a little chick, with legs, feathers and a complete 
 body. Surely to explain that egg I need a God." 
 
 After the dinner the company repaired to the 
 large Auditorium, of which Des Moines is justly
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 89 
 
 proud, where Mr. Bryan delivered his celebrated 
 lecture, "The Prince of Peace." 
 
 The immense space of the Auditorium was 
 thronged when they arrived. The enthusiastic au- 
 dience was composed of the cream of all Iowa, for 
 many had come long distances to be present. It 
 was a thrilling sight to look upon the cosmopoli- 
 tan audience, that represented a new race in the 
 world, "time's noblest offspring, and the last." 
 Judge Grayson introduced the speaker of the even- 
 ing in a few well chosen words, referring to Mr. 
 Bryan as "the most distinguished private citizen 
 in America." 
 
 The lecture was an eloquent discourse on re- 
 ligion, and a noble tribute to Christ, whom he 
 called the "Prince of Peace." 
 
 Mabel sat beside young Markley in one of the 
 boxes. Her companion did not seem to take much 
 interest in the lecture, but Mabel was thrilled as 
 ,she heard one of America's foremost men declare 
 so fervently his faith in Christ. 
 
 Again and again the Auditorium rang with ap- 
 plause. Some of his humorous sallies called forth 
 laughter. He declared that if anyone believed he 
 had sprung from the monkey, he was welcome to 
 such a belief, "only," said the orator, "don't con- 
 nect me with your family tree." 
 . For the most part it was a serious discourse, al- 
 most a sermon; but he held the undivided atten- 
 tion of the vast throng for nearly two hours. 
 With the earnestness of a prophet, the peerless 
 orator, a product of the Middle West, closed with 
 
 ese words:
 
 90 THE VICTORY OF. 
 
 "Our faith should be even stronger than the 
 faith of those who lived two thousand years ago, 
 for we see our religion spreading and supplanting 
 the philosophies and creeds of the Orient. As the 
 Christian grows older he appreciates more and 
 more the completeness with which Christ fills the 
 requirements of the heart, and, grateful for the 
 peace which he enjoys, and for the strength which 
 he has received, he repeats the words of the great 
 scholar, Sir William Jones: 
 
 " 'Before thy mystic altar, heavenly Truth, 
 
 I kneel in manhood as I knelt in youth. 
 
 Thus let me kneel, till this dull form decay, 
 
 And life's last shade be brightened with thy ray.' " 
 
 When the speaker had ceased there was a mo- 
 mentary silence. Then the storm broke. The 
 entire audience rose to their feet. They cheered 
 and waved their handkerchiefs in enthusiastic ap- 
 proval, for the new American race was in pro- 
 foundest sympathy with their orator in his highest 
 tributes to the Prince of Peace. Mr. Bryan grace- 
 fully bowed his acknowledgements and the meet- 
 ing closed. 
 
 Young Markley escorted Mabel Grayson to her 
 home, and promised to call again on the following 
 afternoon. 
 
 Next day he found Mabel awaiting him. She 
 had received another letter from Grace Markley, 
 telling of the continued success of the meetings, 
 and of the large number who had already accepted 
 the faith. "I only wish Frederick was here,"
 
 r ALLAN RUTLEDGE 91 
 
 wrote 'Grace. "I am sure the meetings would help 
 him. As he is in Des Moines, and you will prob- 
 ably see him, tell him to hurry home. He is miss- 
 ing- the best things that ever came to Wellington. 
 The college, even, is aroused and a number of the 
 students have decided for Christ." Mabel read 
 this part of the letter to Markley, and urged him 
 to return home at once. 
 
 "I have no confidence in Rutledge," said he, at 
 last. "He could not do me any good." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mabel, "no confidence in 
 your minister?" Her voice had in it such a tone 
 of astonishment that Markley smiled at what he 
 reckoned her simplicity. 
 
 "Ministers are a poor set, anyhow," he went on 
 sneeringly. 
 
 "How you talk, Frederick Markley," said his 
 cousin reprovingly; "you know better than that." 
 
 Markley was trying to discredit Mr. Rutledge in 
 Mabel's eyes by sneering at Allan's profession, but 
 he was on the wrong track, as he quickly found 
 out. 
 
 "Nobody thinks much of a preacher nowadays," 
 he went on, in the same sneering tone. "Business 
 men have no use for them. They are only med- 
 dlers where they are not nuisances." 
 
 "Mr. Markley," said the girl, thoroughly; 
 aroused, "I refuse to listen to such language!" 
 
 Markley saw he had gone too far and he tried 
 to interrupt her, but her blood was stirred and she 
 went on with kindling eye: "Ministers are not 
 v/^at you represent them. They are the teachers 
 of religion and the ambassadors of Christ. The
 
 92 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ministers of Des Moines are its most respected 
 citizens. Papa thinks more of a good minister 
 than he does of men in any other kind of business 
 or profession. The ministry is the noblest calling 
 on earth. The greatest men in history were 
 preachers. What would our world be without its 
 Wesleys, Luthers, Savonarolas and its Pauls. 
 These men were all preachers. The Lord Jesus 
 was a preacher, and you heard Mr. Bryan honor 
 him last night as the highest of men, and the hope 
 of the world. I am ashamed of you!" 
 
 Markley was confused. He had never seen his 
 cousin so indignant. He was surprised to see such 
 spirit in her. But her enthusiasm lighted her eyes 
 with a new brilliancy and flushed her fair cheeks 
 with added loveliness. Markley was lost in ad- 
 miration for her beauty, and coveted such a girl 
 for himself. 
 
 He quickly regained his composure, and sought 
 to retrieve himself. "Yes," he answered, "I am 
 like your father. I think a good minister is all 
 right, but I don't call Rutledge a good minister." 
 
 This was a flank movement and caught Mabel at 
 a disadvantage. She sought at first to defend Mr. 
 Rutledge. 
 
 "I never heard the least word against him," she 
 answered. "When he was here in college he car- 
 ried off all the honors. Papa and I heard his 
 graduating address, and papa said then that he 
 was a young man with remarkable powers." 
 
 "Well," said Markley insinuatingly, "he is not 
 turning out well in spite of all this talk about his
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 93 
 
 success at Wellington. I have heard my father 
 and others express themselves/' 
 
 "What's wrong with him?" demanded Mabel. 
 
 "He runs around after the girls too much to 
 please the best people in Wellington." 
 
 This was a master stroke of young Markley. It 
 was even a better thrust than he knew. 
 
 Mabel had been receiving letters from Allan reg- 
 ularly ever since they had renewed acquaintance 
 on the train, when Allan was on his way to Well- 
 ington. It is true the letters were always such 
 as she could have read to her father without em- 
 barrassment. But, some way, Allan had seemed 
 to belong to her, and the hints Grace Markley 
 often gave of being in Allan's society had troubled 
 Mabel. She had never put these thoughts into 
 words, but there was a sub-conscious feeling that 
 Allan had no right to spend so much time with 
 Grace. 
 
 If anyone had accused her of such thoughts she 
 would have resented the insinuation as absurd, but 
 the feeling was there. Markley's pointed re- 
 mark found an open place in Mabel's armor. The 
 color left her face. She stammered, as she tried 
 to speak. A moment before she was like a Luther 
 before the Diet of Worms, defying the world. 
 Now she was like a wounded bird, seeking for 
 shelter. 
 
 "W-h-a-a-t girls?" she stammered out in dismay. 
 
 Young Markley saw his advantage, and he de- 
 termined to push it to the uttermost. He was 
 ab] to do this more effectively because, like 
 Napoleon, he had no moral code to bind him.
 
 9* THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "He has had two or three sweethearts in Well- 
 ington already," young Markley went on, in a mat- 
 ter-of-fact tone, apparently not noticing the girl's 
 confusion. "He wins their affection and then 
 throws them off. He has started in lately with 
 Grace, and has made a regular fool of her, but 
 father has taken Rutledge's measure, and he is de- 
 termined to get him out of Wellington just as 
 soon as he can without too much scandal." 
 
 Poor Mabel ! This fitted in with her own sub- 
 conscious reasoning about Grace and Allan, and 
 she never dreamed that Frederick Markley was 
 inventing a base slander. But if Markley thought 
 he was going to have a freer field if he succeeded 
 in discrediting the minister at Wellington, he soon 
 found out his mistake. 
 
 Mabel lost all interest in the conversation, and 
 soon found an excuse to bow him out. He had 
 desired to take her that afternoon for a visit to the 
 State Capitol building, and he had anticipated a 
 delightful climb along with her to the top of the 
 lofty dome, but Mabel absolutely refused to go, or 
 even to promise to go at another time. As he de- 
 parted, he felt that he had robbed Rutledge of an 
 admirer, but he had secured nothing for himself 
 in doing it. 
 
 Left alone Mabel hurried to her own room and 
 threw herself on her bed in tears. 
 
 "Just think of it," she said to herself. "I have 
 been writing to him every week, and he seemed so 
 pleased to get my letters. When he heard I was 
 coming North last week, he said he was anxious 
 to see me again in Wellington. Oh, dear, I have
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 95 
 
 been so foolish," and Mabel gave way to a fresh 
 burst of tears. 
 
 After a while she grew calmer. She recalled 
 their friendship from that morning when he grad- 
 uated. She thought of their ride together on the 
 train. She tried to remember his letters. He had 
 never given her any confidences. She had given 
 him none. If Mr. Rutledge desired, why should 
 he not seek the companionship of a girl like Grace 
 Markley. They were suited for each other in 
 every way. 
 
 She took out his last letter, which she had in- 
 tended to answer the previous day had she not 
 been interrupted by Frederick Markley's visit. As 
 she read over the letter again full confidence in 
 Allan, as a man, returned. He had been misunder- 
 stood. She had misunderstood him herself. She 
 resolved to be on her guard. If Grace Markley 
 and Allan were finding each other's society con- 
 genial, she would not interfere. She blushed as 
 she recalled how tender her thoughts of Allan had 
 been recently. She decided on desperate meas- 
 ures. 
 
 "I will not answer this last letter of his," she 
 said to herself; "at least, not for a long time. I 
 would not know how to write him now. Allan 
 and I are merely friends, that's all." 
 
 But in carrying out her determination in regard 
 to Allan Mabel Grayson had an unending battle 
 with her heart, for a woman's heart is a strange 
 mystery.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 AFTER THE BATTLE. 
 
 The fight between faith and unbelief was over. 
 It was Saturday afternoon, and Rev. Allan Rut- 
 ledge was sitting in his study, thinking over the 
 strenuous two weeks of Gospel meetings. He had 
 closed these special services the evening before 
 with a final meeting, in which all were jubilant 
 with victory. Over three hundred new members 
 were to be added to the church the next day as a 
 result of the campaign. 
 
 "It was worth while," said the minister aloud, 
 speaking to himself. "These meetings have 
 strengthened my own faith in my message. Chris- 
 tianity, properly understood, is a mightier power 
 than the Church suspects at present. Its force 
 as a redemptive agency is just beginning to be 
 realized." 
 
 The door bell rang, and Allan went downstairs, 
 and found Frank Antol waiting to see him. 
 
 Allan led the way up to the study and then 
 opened the conversation. "I am glad to see you, 
 Frank," he said cordially. "We are to have a 
 great day to-morrow. Over three hundred new 
 members are to be received into our fellowship. 
 Our church will be too small, I am afraid, to ac- 
 
 96
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 97 
 
 commodate the people. I am especially pleased 
 that you and your parents are among the number 
 coming forward." 
 
 "1 called to see you about that, sir," responded 
 Frank hesitatingly. "I am afraid I can't join the 
 church." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Allan in surprise. "I was 
 convinced you had decided the matter." 
 
 "There are some things which are not clear to 
 me," said the boy. 
 
 "What's your difficulty?" Allan asked kindly. 
 
 "You have been talking of forgiveness for the 
 past few evenings," answered the youth. "Do we 
 have to forgive everybody?" Frank Antol looked 
 at the minister straight in the face as he asked the 
 question. 
 
 "Yes," said Allan decidedly, "absolutely every- 
 body. No true follower of Christ can harbor an 
 unforgiving spirit." 
 
 "Then I can't join the church," said the boy dog- 
 gedly. 
 
 "Whom do you hate?" asked Allan in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 The boy was silent for a little while and then he 
 began: "You know the sad story of my sister, of 
 course. They all said it was suicide. I know bet- 
 ter. She was betrayed and murdered, and / hate 
 her murderer I" 
 
 As he spoke the last four words, his eyes flashed 
 fire, and he hissed out the damning sentence be- 
 tween his teeth. 
 /'What do you know about it?" Allan asked sym-
 
 98 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 pathetically, as he drew his chair closer to young 
 Antol. 
 
 "I have never told anyone before," responded 
 the boy, "but I will tell you. The day after Viola's 
 death I was in her room and I found this note." 
 And Frank handed the minister a piece of paper. 
 
 Allan took it and read these words, written in a 
 peculiar kind of handwriting: "Meet me to-day at 
 two at the grove near the railroad bend. We will 
 settle things." 
 
 "Ever since I found that" said the youth "I 
 have been trying to find out whose writing it is. 
 I am sure it is someone in Wellington. When I 
 find out who wrote that note I shall kill him at 
 once as I would a dog!" 
 
 "Frank! Frank! you ought not to talk that 
 way!" said the minister reprovingly. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge," went on the boy, with a grow- 
 ing earnestness, "you do not understand. Viola 
 and I were everything to each other. We played 
 together, we sang together, we studied together. 
 I loved her as a brother never loved a sister be- 
 fore. Here is her picture," he added, handing Al- 
 lan a little locket, opened. Allan gazed intently at 
 the miniature photograph, and saw it was the face 
 of a maiden possessed of rare beauty, somewhat 
 resembling Frank, but far surpassing even his 
 handsome features in her marvelous loveliness. 
 
 Allan sighed as he handed back the locket, but 
 he said nothing. 
 
 "I knew something was wrong," the boy began 
 again, "for weeks before it happened. I could see 
 something was troubling her. I asked her, just a
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 99 
 
 week before her death, what it was. I thought 
 at first she was going to tell me, but she said, 'No, 
 Frank, not now. Some day you'll know. Trust 
 me, brother, it is all right/ When I found that 
 note I knew. I will find the man who wrote it, and 
 I will kill him at sight! I carry a revolver with 
 me all the time." As the boy said this, in an ex- 
 cited tone, he pulled out a wicked looking gun 
 from his hip pocket. 
 
 Allan looked at him in surprise. He seemed 
 like a different person from the quiet Frank Antol 
 he had known. His face was flushed. His eyes 
 were shining. The veins on his temples stood out 
 like whipcords. 
 
 "You must not think of such a thing Frank An- 
 tol!" said Allan sternly. "You are at heart a mur- 
 derer yourself to talk like that." 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge," said the boy rising, and begin- 
 ning to walk up and down the room in his excite- 
 ment, "you don't understand. Think what the ac- 
 cursed wretch has done to our home. We were 
 happy; oh, so happy. There was not a happier 
 home in Wellington than ours. Since then our 
 home has been blasted. I have waked up many a 
 night, and heard my poor mother praying to die. 
 My father has aged a year every month since that 
 awful day. I have heard him moan for a whole 
 night through. My God," he almost shouted, so 
 that Allan feared for his reason, "my God, if I 
 found the destroyer of our home and did not kill 
 him, I would go mad mad, I tell you!" 
 
 Allan was silent. This Bohemian youth had 
 the wild blood of his ancestors coursing his veins..
 
 100 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 His wrongs had awakened the spirit of fury in his 
 soul. Christian self-control seemed absurd in such 
 a case. But Allan was patient. He waited until 
 the boy's frenzy had spent itself. 
 
 In a little while Frank sat down again, and, 
 bowing his head in his hands, gave way to a flood 
 of tears. "We were so happy," he moaned. "My 
 sister, my poor sister." 
 
 "Let me see that note again," said Allan calmly. 
 He examined the writing carefully. The thought 
 of Frederick Markley had flashed through his 
 mind, but clearly the writing was not his. Allan 
 well knew young Markley's plain, round handwrit- 
 ing, and could have easily recognized it. The 
 writing on this note was peculiar, such as Allan 
 had never seen before. 
 
 "After her death," continued the boy more calm- 
 ly, "I ceased to believe in God. If I had believed 
 in God, I should have hated him then. But Grace 
 Markley and you have shown me the truth of re- 
 ligion. I would join the church, only I can never 
 forgive my sister's murderer. It is impossible." 
 
 "Frank," asked Allan, "do you really believe in 
 God?" 
 
 "I do," he answered firmly. 
 
 "Do you believe that God punishes the wicked?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "If God punishes them, isn't that enough? Is 
 it right to punish a man twice? Is that just? 
 God says, 'Vengeance is mine. I will repay.' " 
 
 "But," answered the boy, "are we to allow vile 
 murderers to go free on earth. I cannot and will 
 not believe it."
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 101 
 
 "Not at all," said Allan quickly. "Magistrates 
 are God's appointment as a terror to evil-doers, 
 and the magistrate does not bear the sword in 
 vain. In America every crime is punished legally 
 when a conviction is made. The law of our land 
 hangs murderers." 
 
 "If I find my sister's murderer, what do you 
 say I ought to do?" asked Frank, with a look of 
 perplexity on his face. 
 
 "Use every lawful effort to convict him of his 
 crime, and then the law will demand its penalty," 
 answered the minister. 
 
 "But if God is just, can I not avenge myself?" 
 asked the young Bohemian, the hot blood awaken- 
 ing his fury again. 
 
 "No," said Allan, in a decided tone, "the Chris- 
 tian cannot take the law into his own hands in 
 America. He is neither a patriot or a Christian 
 if he does so." 
 
 "I will have to go," said the youth mournfully, 
 rising from his seat. "I cannot join the church. 
 I know well I would kill my sister's murderer. I 
 could not help it." 
 
 "Frank," said the minister quietly, "before you 
 decide to deny Christ because he asks you to for- 
 give your enemies let us kneel in prayer." 
 
 They both knelt and Allan said to God : "O God, 
 we thank thee that thou are just. We thank thee 
 that we know thou wilt repay. We do not need 
 to avenge ourselves, for thou wilt revenge, O thou 
 Avenger of every wfcked deed. Judge the wicked, 
 O God. Root them out of the land of the living. 
 But save thy children. Save this boy. Save him
 
 102 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 from his sin of unforgiveness. Help him to see 
 Jesus on the cross, crying to thee on behalf of his 
 murderers. 'Father, forgive them, for they know 
 not what they do.' O God, help Frank to pray, 
 'Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors/ 
 Comfort his bleeding heart, and heal the broken 
 spirits of his father and mother, for thou canst 
 heal and thou canst save." As they rose slowly 
 from their knees, Allan held out his hand to the 
 boy. 
 
 "Frank," he said earnestly, "promise me you 
 will pray over this, and then that you will do what 
 is right, what a man ought to do. Will you 
 promise?" 
 
 The boy hung his head and made no reply. 
 
 "Won't you promise me to do what you find to 
 1>e right, for Viola's sake?" pleaded the minister. 
 
 "I will," at last the boy answered, and with a 
 warm handclasp they separated. 
 
 "It will be a hard fight," said Allan to himself, 
 as Frank went down the street toward the Antol 
 cottage, "but I think Frank will play the man, and 
 that I shall see him to-morrow." 
 
 The following day was a lovely Sabbath. The 
 weather was cold, but clear and delightful. Long 
 before the services began the streets leading to the 
 Wellington Church were lined with people. It 
 was a great day in Wellington. 
 
 The church was crowded to its utmost capacity. 
 Among the hundreds who presented themselves 
 for admission into the church, Allan noticed with 
 joy Frank Antol. His face was pale, but there was 
 a look of determination about his countenance, and
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 10S 
 
 a glance of triumph in his eye that showed Allan 
 clearly that the boy had gained the greatest of all 
 victories the victory over himself. 
 
 Later on Allan found out that the youth had sat 
 up nearly all night, fighting out his battle. He 
 read and reread the story of Christ on the cross. 
 He read and reread Christ's plain teachings on 
 forgiveness and at last, near the dawn of the day, 
 he triumphed. Allan also saw Mr. and Mrs. Steen 
 and little Marjorie, their faces shining with their 
 new-found happiness. Over half the men in Mark- 
 ley's factory presented themselves. 
 
 There were also many of local prominence who 
 confessed Christ that day. Among these were the 
 president of the First National Bank and his cash- 
 ier, many of the leading merchants, two of the 
 leading physicans, and several ladies well known 
 in Wellington society. A number of students 
 from Wellington College and two of the professors 
 also came forward, and a group of prosperous 
 farmers and their wives from the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 Of necessity, the majority were "common peo- 
 ple," for, as Lincoln used to say, "God made more 
 common people than he did any other kind.'* 
 There were ten different nationalities represented 
 in the number, but all gave the same confident, 
 affirmative answer to Allan's question, "Do you 
 accept Jesus Christ as your Saviour and Lord?" 
 
 It was a most impressive sight when the entire 
 congregation, composed of such diverse elements, 
 ^tood together at the close of the service and 
 sang:
 
 104 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 "Blest "be the tie that binds 
 Our hearts in Christian love; 
 
 The fellowship of kindred minds 
 Is like to that above." 
 
 Elder Markley was almost the only man who 
 had a clouded face that day. At dinner he sneered 
 at his daughter's enthusiasm and referred to the 
 new members as "a nice mess to come into the 
 Wellington Church." "Look at Steen," he ex- 
 claimed, "the drunken vagabond!" 
 
 "He was a drunken vagabond," said Grace, as 
 gently as she could, "but now he is a brother 
 Christian." 
 
 "Bosh!" was all the comment Elder Markley 
 made to this remark. 
 
 But, apart from Markley, the entire congrega- 
 tion was jubilant. There was a spirit of intense 
 joy in all the services of the day, and Allan 
 preached with Pentecostal power. 
 
 "You will have to be careful, Mr. Rutledge, or 
 all this success will turn your head," said Deacon 
 Stanford, at the close of the evening service. "No 
 minister in all Iowa has accomplished what you 
 have in many a year." 
 
 "It is the Lord's doings," said Allan, "and it is 
 marvelous in our eyes. Satan will take care that 
 I am kept from pride the same as Paul was." 
 
 He spoke these last words lightly, but he re- 
 membered them afterward. Satan was attending 
 strictly to his business in Wellington, as Allan 
 soon found out.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GAMBLING CLASS IN WELLINGTON 
 COLLEGE. 
 
 When spring came Allan's father and mother 
 paid him a brief visit. They came not only to see 
 Allan, but also Allan's younger brother, Richard, 
 who was now attending Wellington College. 
 
 The Middle West is strewn with colleges. In 
 the middle of the nineteenth century, when these 
 rich prairies were being settled by the pioneers, 
 Henry Ward Beecher exclaimed: "Our own peo- 
 ple, scarcely less nomadic than the tented Arab, 
 scarcely less impetuous than the Goth and Hun, 
 pour abroad along the Western wilderness in 
 swarming millions, countless, with implements, 
 with wealth of flocks and herds, and with a breadth 
 and depth of civilization such as never emigrated 
 before. They drive schools along with them, as 
 shepherds drive flocks. They have herds of 
 churches, academies, lyceums; and their religious 
 and educational institutions go lowing along the 
 Western plains as Jacob's herds lowed along the 
 Syrian hills." 
 
 Wellington College was a typical Western in- 
 stitution of learning. It was founded under Chris- 
 tian influences and a Christian minister, Rev. Dr. 
 Older, was now its president. He was assisted by 
 
 105
 
 106 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 a well trained faculty, several of whom were mem- 
 bers of the Wellington Church. The college had 
 the reputation of being a high-class Christian 
 school, but when Allan came to Wellington he was 
 much disappointed in the religious and moral tone 
 of the institution. Some of the faculty were seem- 
 ingly altogether irreligious. President Older had 
 been a close comrade of Dr. Anning and shared his 
 views about easy-going methods in the church. 
 When Allan began his aggressive work, President 
 Older sided with Elder Markley. The feeling be- 
 tween Allan and the college was apparently more 
 cordial after the Gospel meetings, as a large num- 
 ber of the students professed the Christian faith. 
 
 Like most of the Western colleges, Wellington 
 College was largely dependent on the Christian 
 people of the West for its financial support, and 
 for this reason Allan thought the college ought to 
 maintain a high Christian character. 
 
 Allan's brother lived in Wellington Hall, the 
 young men's dormitory on the college campus. 
 On account of his busy life as a pastor, Allan had 
 not seen very much of his brother during the win- 
 ter months. He was reminded of his duty to Dick, 
 as he called his brother, when their parents visited 
 them. 
 
 On leaving, Allan's mother congratulated him 
 on his evident success, but added : "Don't over- 
 work, my son. You are beginning to look worn. 
 Run up to the farm for a few days occasionally. 
 And don't forget about Dick. He needs your over- 
 sight. I am afraid he is getting into careless com- 
 pany."
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 107 
 
 The mother's eyes, quickened by love, had de- 
 tected a little deterioration in her younger son. 
 
 "All right, mother," Allan answered; "I'll come 
 to see you this summer, and, meanwhile, I'll look 
 after Dick. There are some careless fellows 
 among the students, I am sorry to say, but most 
 of them are fine young men. Dick will be all 
 right." 
 
 A few evenings later, as Allan was driving in 
 from the country, although it was late, he decided 
 to call on Dick at the college and have a visit with 
 him. 
 
 He found Dick's room-mate alone in their room. 
 The boy told him that Dick had been over at the 
 college building all evening. As Allan walked 
 over to the main college building, he saw that it 
 was entirely dark, except one room in the semi- 
 basement, used by the students for social purposes. 
 He remembered afterward that he had noted how 
 closely the curtains of the room were drawn, so 
 that only one stray gleam revealed the presence 
 of the light within. Thinking it was some class 
 meeting, Allan went to the door of the room, but 
 as he was about to knock he was astounded to hear 
 his brother shout out : "Spades are trump !" 
 
 He stopped as though stunned, and was soon 
 convinced from the talk that a number of the stu- 
 dents were inside gambling. Besides his brother's 
 voice, he recognized the voice of Frederick Mark- 
 ley also. Without thinking of what the result 
 would be, but disgusted at finding such things pos- 
 Mble in Wellington Co^ege, Allan opened the door 
 and walked inside.
 
 108 THE VICTORY OR 
 
 He found out afterward that at such meetings 
 they always locked the door, but that evening, for 
 some reason, it was overlooked. Allan stalked m 
 before the astonished gamblers. Money and 
 counting chips were piled on the table. Allan 
 looked around and saw his brother, Frederick 
 Markley, Professor Gilman (a member of the fac- 
 ulty) and some ten or eleven students. 
 
 Just as the astounded natives of San Salvador 
 looked on Columbus as a visitor from another 
 world, so the surprised gamblers stared speech- 
 less at Allan, as though they had seen a ghost. 
 Markley was the first to recover himself ; and, in a 
 burst of rage at the intrusion, he exclaimed: 
 
 "What do you want, sir? This is no place for 
 mushy-mouthed preachers, you damned hypo- 
 crite." 
 
 Markley was seated with his back to the new- 
 comer, and he had turned around his head to hurl 
 the insult in the minister's face. With one long 
 step Allan was beside him. Before anyone real- 
 ized what was going to happen, the minister had 
 seized Markley by the coat collar, swung him out 
 of his chair, dragged him to the door, and pitched 
 him headlong into the hall. 
 
 Just one word, "cad," escaped Allan's lips as 
 Markley disappeared from view. Shutting the 
 door Allan calmly turned the key in the lock. The 
 enraged Markley at first attacked the door furious- 
 ly, but the stout oak panels easily resisted, and he 
 retreated in ignominious defeat. The students 
 were thoroughly frightened. Blank amazement
 
 r ALLAN RUTLEDGE 109 
 
 and fear were on every countenance. Allan tow- 
 ered above them like an avenging angel. 
 
 Controlling himself with an effort, Allan sat 
 down in Markley's chair, and quietly asked: 
 "Boys, how long has this been going on?" 
 
 Professor Oilman had now taken in the full 
 meaning of the situation, and he became furious. 
 As a dog in its mad chase after a rabbit will rush 
 against a barb wire fence, to its serious hurt, so 
 Professor Oilman, blinded by his anger, rushed 
 against Allan. 
 
 "You damned nuisance of a preacher, we know 
 enough to look after our own business here. What 
 right have you in this room?" 
 
 For answer Allan seized him, in spite of his vig- 
 orous resistance, as a cat catches a kitten, and 
 lifted him out of his chair with one hand, while he 
 squirmed helplessly. Unlocking the door with his 
 free hand, Allan gave him a pitch outside, and 
 closed the door again with a bang. Relocking the 
 door, he took out the key and put it in his pocket. 
 The whole time it took to eject the two men was 
 less than two minutes. 
 
 Allan again sat down calmly. He looked 
 around the circle of crestfallen students in grief 
 rather than anger. Before his steady gaze Dick 
 Rutledge and all the students dropped their heads. 
 Allan did not address his brother in particular, but, 
 speaking to all, he began, after a painful silence: 
 
 "Boys, I found out this gambling class by acci- 
 dent. I knew nothing of it until five minutes ago 
 c^ less. But I am glad I stumbled in here if I can 
 convince you of your folly."
 
 110 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 He noticed a look of defiance coming into the 
 faces of some of the lads, and he went on : 
 
 "I didn't mean to interrupt any pleasure you 
 were having, but listen, fellows 1 Have you been 
 doing the manly thing in meeting here in this way 
 to gamble?" 
 
 None of the students made any attempt to an- 
 swer. 
 
 "If it is a manly thing you are doing," went on 
 Allan, "why do you draw the curtains so closely 
 when you are gambling? Why do you meet in 
 such seclusion?" 
 
 "You well know" Allan looked the boys in the 
 face as he spoke "if this is reported your parents 
 will be ashamed of you, and the reputation of the 
 college will be injured. Is it a manly thing to 
 gamble when you are ashamed of it?" he asked 
 again. As the boys still remained silent, the min- 
 ister went on: "No, boys, you have been doing 
 something that is unmanly, mean and sneaking, 
 altogether unworthy of you. Listen to me ! I 
 want to help you. Gambling is no recreation for 
 intelligent men such as you are. You have surely 
 heard what Judge Catron, of the Supreme Court 
 of the United States, said about it. 'Gambling,' 
 he said, 'is a general evil, it leads to vicious incli- 
 nations, destruction of morals, abandonment of in- 
 dustry and honest employments, a loss of self-con- 
 trol and respect.' Judge Catron is right. Love of 
 this vicious game has already robbed some of you 
 of your self-respect and self-control, or you would 
 not be here to-night." 
 
 The students were listening with attention. Not
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 111 
 
 a sound was heard, save Allan's quiet, distinct 
 voice. 
 
 "But, fellows," he continued, in a gentler tone, 
 "I do not want to upbraid you, but I do want to 
 help you. Won't you all promise to give up this 
 accursed game? I have seen the brightest go 
 down on account of it. What do you say?" 
 
 The students were still silent. They seemed 
 unable to speak. 
 
 "Fellows" Allan's voice was low and tender 
 now "one of you boys has a mother that I know 
 well would almost as soon see her son in his coffin 
 as sitting at this table to-night. Won't you prom- 
 ise that this is your last indulgence in gambling?" 
 
 Big tears were falling over Dick Rutledge's 
 cheek. The others were similarly affected. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge" a fine, clean=faced student, at 
 last found his voice "I give you my word of 
 honor I am through." 
 
 "And I too," said one after another, until all had 
 spoken. 
 
 "I know that you mean it," said Allan heartily. 
 "Warn others against this unmanly and ruinous 
 habit." 
 
 Allan arose to go. "Before I leave, boys," ne 
 said simply, "let us speak to God together." 
 
 The minister knelt down and the rest followed 
 his example. There was a moment's silence, and 
 then Allan said: "Our Father, thou hast heard this 
 good promise. Help every man to keep it all 
 through life as a sacred vow." 
 
 Allan arose again, and with a cheerful "Good- 
 night, all!" he was off. The students looked at
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 each other for several minutes before anyone 
 spoke. At last someone addressed Dick Rutledge: 
 "Dick, your brother is a trump, sure enough." 
 
 "I am through with trumps from now on," an- 
 swered Dick, with a grim smile, "but I will keep 
 as close to Allan as I can. If he is my brother, I 
 want to say that Allan always acts the man." 
 
 There was no signs of Frederick Markley or 
 Professor Gilman around the building as the stu- 
 dents separated. The gambling class in Welling- 
 ton had adjourned sine die. 
 
 When Allan left the college that night he never 
 intended to refer to this incident further, but 
 strange things followed the sudden collapse of 
 gambling in this Christian college. The first indi- 
 cation that Allan had in regard to the probable mo- 
 mentous results of his night visit to the college 
 was a remark from Grace Markley a day or two 
 later. 
 
 "What is this they are saying about your visit 
 to the college the other night?" she asked him, aa 
 they happened to meet on the street. 
 
 "Who told you about my visit?" he inquired, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Why everybody is talking about it, Frederick 
 says, and they are telling all kinds of stones. I 
 knew they were not true." 
 
 "What stories are they telling, Miss Markley?" 
 asked Allan hastily. 
 
 The girl blushed. She would not repeat to him 
 the outrageous slanders she had heard from her 
 brother's lips.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 113 
 
 "They are foolish tales/' she replied. "No one 
 will believe them." 
 
 Allan was puzzled. What could it mean? His 
 curiosity was satisfied that afternoon by a visit 
 from Deacon Stanford. As he came in Allan could 
 see from his face that something serious was on 
 his mind. 
 
 "What's wrong?" asked the minister. 
 
 "Let us go up to the study," said the Deacon. 
 
 When they were seated in the study and the 
 door was closed, the Deacon turned to Allan: 
 
 "Tell me about your visit to the college the 
 other night." 
 
 Allan told him the whole story in detail. 
 
 "Humph !" ejaculated Deacon Stanford, "they 
 are trying to make a big thing out of that. I sup- 
 pose Professor Oilman and young Markley have 
 started all the stories. They are telling around 
 town how you interrupted a class meeting the 
 other night, when you were under the influence 
 of liquor, and that you insulted everybody, got into 
 a fight, broke some furniture and acted like a 
 madman." 
 
 "Ah, that's what Miss Markley referred to," 
 said Allan. "I saw her to-day and she said there 
 were slanderous tales going around about me." 
 
 "Yes," continued the Deacon, "Elder Markley 
 came to me this morning with a long face and told 
 me there must be some truth in the stories. 
 'Where there's smoke, there's fire,' he said, but I 
 was as sure of your innocency of wrong-doing as 
 I <fm that my name is Stanford."
 
 114 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "What ought I to do?" asked Allan, evidently 
 disturbed. 
 
 "I don't know as I would do anything," an- 
 swered the Deacon slowly. "The truth will soon 
 come out. Go on as usual and pay no attention. 
 Markley proposed that the officers meet and ap- 
 point a committee to investigate your conduct that 
 night, but I sat right down on him." 
 
 Allan clenched his fist. 
 
 "What's the matter with Elder Markley, any- 
 way, I wonder?" went on Deacon Stanford. "He 
 can't speak a civil word about you any more." 
 
 "Well," said Allan, in an effort to relieve his 
 mind, "it reminds me of a Texas story. Down in 
 Texas a lot of cowboys were having a big dance 
 one night. During the festivities a drunken fel- 
 low staggered into the dance room. The manager 
 of* the hall took him by the arm and led him gently 
 to the door. The fellow appeared astonished at 
 this treatment, and went back to find out what it 
 meant. This time the manager roughly shoved 
 him outside. Still the drunken Texan did not 
 comprehend what was meant. He reeled into the 
 hall for the third time. The manager seized him 
 by the neck and pants, and hurled him into the 
 middle of the street. When the fellow came to 
 again, he looked toward the dance hall and 
 shouted : 'You fellows can't fool me any more. I 
 know now what you mean. You fellows don't want 
 me.' I guess Elder Markley doesn't want me in 
 Wellington, and that is all there is to it," added 
 Allan.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 115 
 
 "But the whole community wants you, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge," said the Deacon. "Wellington was never 
 so united on a minister before." 
 
 "I shall go on and do my duty, as I see it," said 
 Allan. 
 
 "Did I ever tell you my life motto?" he asked, 
 as the Deacon rose to leave. 
 
 "No, what is it?" 
 
 "It is Abraham Lincoln's motto," said Allan, 
 and he repeated slowly the noble words of the mar- 
 tyred President: "With malice toward none, with 
 charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God 
 gives us to see the right.' " 
 
 "God bless you, sir," said the good Deacon, 
 shaking his hand warmly in farewell.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 ALLAN STIRS UP A TEMPEST. 
 
 When Allan Rutledge was left alone after Dea- 
 con Stanford's visit, he reflected long on the un- 
 expected turn that affairs had taken. He was nat- 
 urally annoyed at the slanders against his fair 
 name, but what provoked him most was the fact 
 that Elder Markley had suggested the appoint- 
 ment of a committee to investigate his conduct. 
 "The idea," said Allan to himself, "that I could 
 be guilty of such conduct is preposterous. To ap- 
 point such a committee would be an admission on 
 the part of my church officers that they suspect 
 me, and thus give some credence to the ridiculous 
 slanders." The more he thought about it, the 
 more his blood boiled. He was a little wearied 
 anyhow from the strain of the Gospel meetings, 
 and his nerves were somewhat unstrung. Per- 
 haps, if he had been in his usual health, with his 
 nerves like steel wires, he would have laughed at 
 the whole business. As it was, the overstrained 
 nerves gave way. After unusual excitement of 
 any kind, a reaction is sure to come. Caught m 
 such a reaction the bold Elijah proved a craven, 
 and quailed before Jezebel. In his discouragement 
 he prayed for death, and yet fled from it in terror. 
 
 116
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 117 
 
 Allan fretted over the idle tales he had heard 
 until they drove him to an extreme act, which he 
 afterward regretted. He made up his mind to 
 meet the slanders, and, taking up his pen, wrote 
 out the following communication for the Welling- 
 ton "Gazette": 
 "Editor, Wellington 'Gazette': 
 
 "Dear Sir: It is reported to me on reliable au- 
 thority that slanderous tales are being told in re- 
 gard to a visit which I made to Wellington Col- 
 lege a few nights ago. As I wish to present the 
 truth of the matter, just as it happened, I ask 
 leave to state the following facts : I was returning 
 home from a pastoral visit in the country last 
 Tuesday evening, when I called at Wellington 
 Hall on the college campus to see one of the stu- 
 dents. I found out he was at the main college 
 building. Going there I saw a light in one of the 
 lower rooms, used generally for class meetings, 
 and supposed I should find my friend at a class 
 meeting. What was my surprise on approaching 
 the door to hear loud talking, which I at once un- 
 derstood as the talk of men engaged in the game 
 of gambling. I walked into the room, and found 
 a gambling game in full progress. There were 
 thirteen or fourteen in the room, all students of the 
 college, except two, Frederick Markley and Pro- 
 fessor Gilman. For good reasons I ejected these 
 two men from the room and then talked w r ith the 
 students on the evils of gambling. All of them, 
 without exception, promised me never to gamble 
 a^ain. Before I left I had a word of prayer with 
 them. There was no fight. No furniture was
 
 118 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 broken, and my meeting with the students was as 
 quiet as a prayer meeting. In regard to the re- 
 port that I was intoxicated, I may say my father 
 was a total abstainer before I was born, and I have 
 never touched liquor in my life. This is a full and 
 accurate account of the whole affair, and I am 
 ready at any time to make affidavit to that effect, 
 if desired. Yours sincerely, 
 
 "Allan Rutledge. 
 
 "P. S. I may assure the many friends of Well- 
 ington College that this gambling class has been 
 discontinued since my visit." 
 
 Next morning Allan handed this communication 
 to the editor of the Wellington "Gazette." Like 
 all newspaper editors, he was. delighted to get such 
 a piece of "live copy," and he printed the article in 
 a prominent place in the paper, which came out 
 that evening. 
 
 In giving this communication to the press, Allan 
 never dreamed of injuring the college. He felt 
 that this plain statement of the facts in the case 
 would clear the Wellington atmosphere of its fogs 
 of slander against himself, and that there the mat- 
 ter would end. He realized that the mention of 
 the names of Markley and Oilman in the article 
 was extremely severe, but he felt justified in doing 
 this, as he was convinced that they had deliberate- 
 ly lied about him, thinking that he would not de- 
 fend himself, lest he injure the reputation of the 
 college. But Allan was convinced that the truth 
 cannot possibly injure anyone, or any institution, 
 and after giving the statement to the "Gazette" 
 he dismissed the matter from his mind.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 119 
 
 The result of the appearance of Allan's letter 
 in the evening paper was astounding, and no one 
 was more amazed than Allan himself. The arti- 
 cle was at once telegraphed all over Iowa and the 
 surrounding States, and the next morning it ap- 
 peared, with large headlines, in all the daily papers 
 of the Middle West. 
 
 The headlines were mostly misleading, such as 
 "A Minister Calls Wellington College a Gambling 
 Hell," "Rev. Allan Rutledge Attacks Wellington 
 College." One paper, with a large circulation, had 
 this headline in heavy type : "Great Sensation in 
 Wellington Its College Called a Gambling Hell." 
 
 The success of Allan's Gospel meetings had won 
 him quite a little fame over the State, but his state- 
 ment about gambling in Wellington College made 
 him at once the most-talked-of minister in the 
 Middle West. The article was widely copied, and 
 papers containing it were sent to Allan from all 
 parts of the country. 
 
 Allan felt like a man who has unsuspectingly 
 thrown a lighted match into what he supposed to 
 be a barrel of sand, but found out, too late, it was 
 a barrel of gunpowder. The shock of the explo- 
 sion dazed and blinded him. But of one thing 
 Allan was certain : He had spoken the truth in his 
 public arraignment of the college, and he resolute- 
 ly determined, with a fresh grip on himself, to 
 meet the occasion like a man. He soon had need 
 of all the reserve power in his manhood, as the 
 wave of excitement he had stirred up soon became 
 a^raging tempest. 
 
 The college at once felt the effect of the expos-
 
 120 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 ure. Parents wrote to President Older, inquiring if 
 their sons were among the gamblers. Men who 
 had supported the college financially declared that 
 if Wellington College tolerated gambling they 
 were through with it. Some students were ac- 
 tually withdrawn from the institution by their 
 alarmed parents. 
 
 The college had always been Wellington's 
 crowning glory, and this widespread attack on its 
 reputation stirred up a storm of protest in Well- 
 ington against Allan's "lack of judgment," as they 
 called it. At the head of these forces, antagonistic 
 to the young minister, was Elder Markley. He 
 was openly rejoiced at the turn affairs had taken, 
 and now saw an excuse to drive Allan unceremon- 
 iously out of the community. 
 
 Accompanied by old Abe Daniels, Elder Mark- 
 ley called on Allan. The two church officers seat- 
 ed themselves in silence in the study. Allan 
 waited for Mr. Markley to begin the conversation. 
 After a number of preparatory coughs and hems, 
 Elder Markley began: 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge, we have called to see you in re- 
 gard to the article you have sent over the country 
 slandering our college." 
 
 "Truth never slanders," said Allan. 
 
 "Sir," continued the church officer, as grave as 
 a judge sentencing a criminal to death, "that was 
 an awful thing for you to do." 
 
 "It was an awful thing, certainly, to teach the 
 students of Wellington College how to gamble/' 
 rejoined the minister.
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 "There may be a lawsuit about this," went on 
 the other. 
 
 "Yes," Allan responded, "gambling is an offense 
 against the laws of the commonwealth of Iowa." 
 
 "What did you mention my son's name for?" 
 asked Markley, getting angry at Allan's cool re- 
 joinders. 
 
 "Because he was there, sir," said Allan. 
 
 "You have injured Wellington College through- 
 out all the West," continued Markley, with a glare 
 at the minister. 
 
 "I have certainly injured the gambling class at 
 the college," Allan replied. 
 
 "Your usefulness in Wellington is finished," 
 Markley said, with a sneer. "We shall expect you 
 to resign as a result of this." 
 
 All this time old Abe Daniels had sat in silence, 
 looking first at Allan and then at Markley. 
 
 At this point he wheezed out: 
 
 "Yes, we expect you to resign." 
 
 "We will see about that later," said Allan, ris- 
 ing, as though the interview were at an end. "Is 
 there anything I can do for you to-day, gentle- 
 men?" he asked. 
 
 "No," said Markley, in some confusion at Allan's 
 move. 
 
 "Well, I am glad you called to see me," said 
 Allan, bowing them out. "I hope you will come 
 again some other day." 
 
 Before the two men knew just how it happened 
 
 they were standing outside on the steps. In no 
 
 ^gentle mood Markley went down the street. In 
 
 spite of his boldness in facing Markley, Allan's
 
 122 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 mind was in confusion. He hardly knew which 
 way to turn. He had just learned that day that 
 the faculty of the college had decided not to attend 
 the Wellington Church as long as Allan was pas- 
 tor. He felt like a man standing on quicksand. 
 Every movement he made to extricate himself 
 seemed to make his plight worse. 
 
 But one thing was still simple and plain: He 
 could keep on doing his work as a minister of 
 Christ in "comforting those that mourn." When 
 Elder Markley and old Abe Daniels had gone that 
 afternoon, he went out to make a call in a hum- 
 ble home on the outskirts of the city. A poor 
 girl, daughter of a German widow, was lying at 
 death's door from that dread disease that sweeps 
 away so many lives consumption. He had re- 
 ceived an urgent invitation to call that day, al- 
 though the girl was not a member of his church. 
 He found the sufferer even worse than he sup- 
 posed. When he entered the lowly home, a glance 
 at the little group of neighbors whispering in sad 
 tones told him that the grim reaper was about to 
 harvest another of the precious, tender stalks of 
 earth. As Allan entered the little bedroom he saw 
 the widowed mother bending over her dying 
 daughter. 
 
 At the sound of Allan's footsteps, the poor 
 widow looked up and greeted the minister with a 
 wan smile. Allan felt rebuked, as he looked at 
 her, that he had allowed his own petty disappoint- 
 ments to grieve his soul when such weary hearts 
 as this widow's needed cheer. 
 
 The girl opened her eyes and recognized him,
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 as he had called several times previously at Grace 
 Markley's request. She made a faint motion beck- 
 oning him to her side, and, as he leaned over her, 
 she gasped. "Read the Twenty-third Psalm and 
 pray." 
 
 Allan sat down beside the bed and took out his 
 pocket Bible which he always carried. He turned 
 to the shepherd Psalm and began to read slowly: 
 
 "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 
 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he 
 leadeth me beside the still waters." 
 
 "Yes," whispered the weary sufferer, "he lead- 
 eth me." 
 
 Allan went on again : "He restoreth my soul ; 
 he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his 
 name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the 
 valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." 
 
 "No evil," repeated the poor girl, with closed 
 eyes. "No evil." 
 
 "For thou art with me," Allan read, "thy rod 
 and thy staff, they comfort me." 
 
 "Yes, it's true," added the girl. 
 
 When Allan had finished the Psalm, the hum- 
 ble believer said: 
 
 "Thank God! thank God!" 
 
 The mother was weeping softly, sitting at the 
 foot of the bed. The few neighbors stood around 
 the door of the bedroom. It was too small to ac- 
 commodate them all. 
 
 Before praying, Allan took a little hymn book 
 out of his pocket, and began to sing a favorite 
 jiymn of his. He had a rich, well modulated, tenor 
 voice, and in his softest tones he sang:
 
 124 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 "Just beyond the River Jordan, just across its 
 
 chilling tide, 
 There's a land of life eternal; through its vales 
 
 sweet waters glide. 
 By the crystal river flowing grows the tree of life 
 
 so fair, 
 Many loved ones wait our coming, in the Upper 
 
 Garden there. 
 
 We shall meet them some bright morning, 
 Resting by the waters fair, 
 They are waiting for our coming, 
 In the Upper Garden there." 
 
 "Yes, I'll meet them. I see them now. The an- 
 gels are coming. Good-by, mother, good-by." 
 The girl was evidently on the dread border be- 
 tween the Seen and the Unseen World. 
 
 The mother hastened to raise her head. She 
 made an effort as though to sit up, and then sank 
 back, exhausted, whispering, "Good-by, good-by," 
 and all was still. 
 
 After the first wild outburst of grief was over, 
 Allan led the little company in prayer. His "heart- 
 cry to the Comforter of the comfortless made the 
 little bedroom a gateway to the Unseen World, 
 and his faith in Him who is the resurrection and 
 the life made death itself the harbinger of life. 
 
 The stars were shining as he walked home, and. 
 looking up, Allan repeated to himself Goethe's 
 brave words: 
 
 "There eyes do regard you in Eternity's stillness, 
 There is all fullness, ye brave, to reward you: 
 Work and despair not."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A LETTER FROM WELLINGTON. 
 
 "Here is a big letter for you, Mabel, from Well- 
 ington. Grace must have written you a regular 
 book this time," said Judge Grayson one morn- 
 ing to his daughter, as he handed her a letter. 
 
 "I am very glad to get it," answered Mabel, 
 eagerly reaching for the large envelope. "Grace 
 has not written me for a long while and I am so 
 anxious to hear from there." 
 
 "I understand young Rutledge is having a seri- 
 ous time on account of his clash with Wellington 
 College," continued the Judge. "They are to 
 bring the matter up at the Annual Church Con- 
 vention, which meets in Des Moines next month. 
 Mr. Markley has written me about it. He is very 
 bitter against the minister." 
 
 "I think Mr. Rutledge was justified in condemn- 
 ing gambling among the students of a Christian 
 college," responded Mabel. 
 
 "So do I, my daughter," said the Judge earnest- 
 ly, "and I sympathize very much with Mr. Rut- 
 ledge. As one of the trustees of our Des Moines 
 College, I understand about these things. The 
 trouble with Wellington College has been that they 
 flave allowed a few of the trustees to manage it, 
 
 125
 
 126 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 and some of them are not even professing Chris- 
 tians. It is all a mistake. Mr. Rutledge will 
 really do the college a world of good in the end, 
 even if he did use extreme measures." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so, papa," answered 
 Mabel. "I must run upstairs and read this letter 
 from Grace Markley. She has evidently written 
 me all the news this time." 
 
 When Mabel opened the letter and looked :t 
 over, it was like the manuscript of a book. There 
 was page after page, until at last Mabel exclaimed 
 to herself: "My, Grace must have a lot of news 
 to tell me that is interesting if she found time to 
 write a letter like this. I never got such a letter 
 in my life before." The letter was dated, "Well- 
 ington, Iowa, July 6, 190-." "My Dearest Mabel," 
 it began, "I am ashamed I have not written you 
 for so long. I expect you have seen in the news- 
 papers all about the trouble here between Mr. 
 Rutledge and the college. We have had a per- 
 fectly dreadful time. Papa and Frederick are so 
 bitter against our minister that mamma and I can't 
 even mention his name in the house if they are 
 present. I am sorry Mr. Rutledge named Fred- 
 erick in the letter he wrote to the Wellington 'Ga- 
 zette/ as Fred says he will never forgive him. Mr. 
 Rutledge told me he regretted writing this letter 
 that has stirred up so many against him, but at 
 the time he was so worked up over some stories 
 that were going around in regard to his visit to 
 the college the night he found them gambling that 
 he thought it was his duty to do it. He will do
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 127 
 
 anything he feels to be his duty, no matter what 
 the result may be. 
 
 "For a few weeks everything was upside down. 
 All the professors left the church, including Presi- 
 dent Older, and most of the students were highly 
 offended at Mr. Rutledge. Many of our best peo- 
 ple said very harsh things about him, and I was 
 afraid our great work in the community was 
 ruined. I never prayed so hard over anything be- 
 fore as I did over our church and minister at that 
 time. But things are looking very different now. 
 Several of the professors and nearly all of the stu- 
 dents are back in the church again, and Lester 
 Grey, one of the seniors, told me that Mr. Rut- 
 ledge was now considered a kind of hero by all the 
 boys. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge suffered much during the strain 
 of the first few weeks. He never mentioned the 
 matter publicly, except once, the second Sabbath 
 after it happened, when the feeling against him 
 was at its height. He made a short prelude to his 
 sermon, saying that it was utterly false that he 
 was trying to injure Wellington College. He said 
 he was seeking its welfare. He compared his at- 
 titude to Luther attacking the evils of the Chris- 
 tian church in Germany, and to Lincoln arraign- 
 ing slavery in our own country. 
 
 ; ' 'Martin Luther,' he exclaimed, and I never 
 saw him look so grand, 'was not the enemy of the 
 Christian Church because he fought its errors. 
 Abraham Lincoln was not the foe of America be- 
 c^use he denounced slavery, which, like a viper, 
 had fastened itself to our body politic. Luther
 
 128 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 was the best friend the Christian Church had in 
 his day, and Lincoln was America's most patriotic 
 citizen. I, too, am a faithful friend of Wellington 
 College, and I will continue to be so, no matter 
 what may happen, for I believe in Christian edu- 
 cation, and I stand for the Christian college, but 
 I want it to be a Christian college in reality, and 
 not in name only/ 
 
 "I shall never forget these words, nor the ap- 
 pearance of our minister as he spoke them. He 
 seemed to tower above us all like a giant. Al- 
 though it was in church, the great congregation 
 applauded loudly, and from that time on Mr. Rut- 
 ledge has been gaining ground every day. The 
 whole church is now back of him, and I tell 
 mamma that if only papa, Frederick, old Mr. Dan- 
 iels, President Older and a few of the professors 
 would let the matter drop all would go on as usual. 
 But they say they are determined to drive him 
 out of Wellington a thing that the church will 
 never permit. 
 
 "Another thing happened just then that turned 
 the sympathy of the people to our minister. He 
 was brutally attacked one night by two ruffians. 
 Fortunately young Frank Antol, a son of the man 
 who wept so at the shop meeting when you sang, 
 came along. He is only a boy, but he is very 
 strong, and he leaped on one of the fellows and 
 bore him to the ground. Mr. Rutledge soon got 
 the better of the other man, but if he had been 
 alone I am afraid he might have been roughly han- 
 dled. As it was, he received a blow on the face, 
 and carried the mark for several days. This act
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 129 
 
 of his enemies has made him more popular than 
 ever with the common people. 
 
 "The work of the church has gone on with as 
 much enthusiasm as ever, and Mr. Rutledge never 
 preached so well as now. All the new members 
 are standing faithful and are even bringing in 
 some more of their friends, so that our church 
 membership is now the largest in the whole State 
 of Iowa outside of Des Moines. 
 
 "We have several remarkable cases of trans- 
 formed lives. A drunken fellow, called Steen, is 
 now sober and industrious, and his home is so 
 changed you could not tell it was the same family. 
 His daughter is little Marjorie Steen, of whom I 
 once wrote you. Professor Tilley, who has taken 
 Frederick's place as chorister, says Marjorie has a 
 remarkable voice, and he is sure she will make her 
 mark as a singer. I have arranged with him to 
 begin the training of her voice at once. Another 
 case is that of a Bohemian infidel, Louis Antoine. 
 He works in papa's factory, and was formerly a 
 rough, profane man. Now he is one of Christ's 
 best witnesses in Wellington. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge conducts a large Bible class every 
 Monday evening. About four hundred people at- 
 tend it week after week, and they all bring their 
 Bibles with them. It is a wonderful sight to see 
 the number of men who attend. Many of the 
 workmen in the factory are present regularly. One 
 of them, an Irishman, called Pat McGinnis, often 
 amuses the class. He is a real Irishman, always 
 ready with an answer, warm-hearted and loyal. I 
 think he would gladly die for Mr. Rutledge's sake,
 
 130 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 if necessary. Last Monday evening Mr. Rutledge 
 asked the class what was meant by an 'unclean 
 spirit/ and before anyone could answer Mr. Mc- 
 Ginnis shouted out: 'Shure, your rivirince, doesn't 
 that means a 'dhurty divil.' At another time the 
 question was asked, 'What was Peter's chief fail- 
 ing?' and Pat replied at once: 'He was loike an 
 Irishman. His brains were at the back of his 
 head, an' he was always a spakin' first, and then 
 thinkin' about it, afterward.' 
 
 "When he refers to Timothy he calls him 'the 
 broth o' a bhoy.' We had a great celebration here 
 on the Fourth. It was a Glorious Fourth in Well- 
 ington. Senator Dolliver was the orator of the 
 day, and as Mr. Rutledge had met him previously 
 he was honored by being invited to ride in the car- 
 riage with the Senator to the park, and afterward 
 he introduced Mr. Dolliver to the big crowd. Mr. 
 Rutledge is to give an address on 'International 
 Peace' at our Chautauqua, and I wish you could be 
 here then. 
 
 "At commencement time President Older and 
 the college professors treated Mr. Rutledge very 
 shabbily, everyone said. They had the graduation 
 exercises at the Academy of Music, instead of the 
 church, as usual, and Mr. Rutledge was not invited 
 to take any part at all, much to the disgust of the 
 students and the whole community. I was talking 
 yesterday to our minister, and I told him he was 
 looking pale and worn out. I urged him to take a 
 few weeks' rest before our Chautauqua begins. He 
 told me he was going to run up to his father's 
 farm on the Des Moines River for a three weeks'
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 131 
 
 vacation, and he certainly needs it. He leaves 
 next Monday, and I hope he will get a good rest. 
 
 "Now, dear Mabel, I have written you all this 
 because I thought you wouJd like to hear exactly 
 how things are, as I know you are interested in 
 Mr. Rutledge. He says he has not heard from 
 you in a long time, and he wonders what is the 
 matter. Write him a letter. He needs cheer and 
 help now. He seems to think the world of you. 
 Come and see us when you can and we will talk 
 it all over, because I have more to tell you than 
 I could write in a week. 
 
 "With much love, I am, your loving cousin, 
 
 "Grace Markley." 
 
 When Mabel Grayson had finished this long let- 
 ter she sat thinking for several minutes. "Poor 
 Allan !" at last she exclaimed aloud, speaking to 
 herself. "I wish I could tell him how much I sym- 
 pathize with him, but it is evident from this letter 
 that Grace and he are very close friends. I must 
 not allow myself to make trouble between them. 
 Since Grace asks it I think I ought, perhaps, to 
 write him a few lines of encouragement," she 
 added pensively. 
 
 She began a letter to him that very morning, 
 but when it was written it sounded so stiff and 
 formal that she felt she could not send such a cold 
 letter as that. Then she tried again, but the sec- 
 ond attempt produced a letter so cordial and warm 
 that she was afraid to send it. She tore both of 
 the letters up and gave over trying to write to 
 fiim that day. She finally wrote a note to Grace 
 Markley, telling her she was much interested in
 
 132 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 her letter, and that she would write Mr. Rutledge 
 before long. 
 
 "I am just starting on a camping trip on the Des 
 Moines River with a few friends," the letter con- 
 cluded. "I wish you were to go with us, as we 
 expect to have a jolly time." 
 
 "Poor Mr. Rutledge," said Grace to herself, 
 when she read this note from Mabel, "I am afraid 
 she does not care much for him, and I can plain- 
 ly see he is deeply in love with her. I hope she 
 will write him soon." 
 
 Grace Markley had not exaggerated the bitter- 
 ness of Allan's enemies against him. Seeing that 
 he was becoming even more popular than ever in 
 Wellington, Elder Markley began writing to 
 neighboring pastors about the "trouble between 
 the church and the college," and assuring his 
 brethren in the Lord that only the resignation uf 
 this "ill-balanced enthusiast, Mr. Rutledge," could 
 again bring "peace and harmony" to the church 
 of Wellington. 
 
 As Markley well knew, some of these pastors 
 had been jealous of Allan's success, and they lent 
 a ready ear to Markley's suggestions. Besides 
 Markley was looked upon as the leading officer in 
 the church. Accordingly the matter was to be 
 brought up in the Annual Church Convention in 
 Des Moines, as Judge Grayson had told his daugh- 
 ter. In case it desired to do so, this convention 
 had the power to remove Allan from Wellington, 
 in spite of the protests of the church, and Markley 
 was sure he had influence enough with the 
 ecclesiastical "machine" in Iowa to accomplish
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 133 
 
 this. He was aided in his schemes by President 
 Older, who had a large influence in the State, and 
 he used it all to discredit Wellington's minister. 
 Allan knew of all this plotting, but he kept stead- 
 ily on his way. He found Deacon Stanford a wise 
 counselor and a true friend. The deacon in- 
 formed him of all the plots of his enemies, but 
 told him to "quietly wait the salvation of God." 
 
 "The people are with you to a man," assured 
 the deacon, "and this is a country in which the 
 people rule in Church and State. Let them bring 
 this matter up in the convention, if they wish. I 
 will be there, as well as Elder Markley. President 
 Older and those professors are only digging their 
 own graves. It will be your victory in the end, 
 Mr. Rutledge." 
 
 Allan had also a needed stay in Grace Markley. 
 In many ways she cheered him on, and there grew 
 up between them a mutual understanding and con- 
 fidence. It was stronger than ordinary friendship, 
 but not deep enough to be called "love," unless it 
 were the devoted love that sometimes exists be- 
 tween a brother and sister. Allan never dreamed 
 of asking Grace to be his wife, nor did she regard 
 him in any way, at that time, as a possible hus- 
 band. But, in his lonely conflict in those awful, 
 dreary weeks, when Mabel Grayson no longer 
 wrote, when old friends became cool, when his 
 way was dark, Allan found in Grace Markley the 
 human sympathy for which the strongest crave, 
 and in her gentle way she helped to heal his 
 .wounds and nerve his arm again for the battle of 
 life.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 ON THE DES MOINES RIVER. 
 
 "Good-by, everybody!" shouted Allan Rutledge, 
 as he stood on the rear platform of the Limited 
 Express one Monday morning, as he was about to 
 start for a three weeks' vacation on the old farm. 
 
 "Good-by!" shouted back a large crowd of 
 Allan's church members, who had gathered at the 
 station to see him off and to wish him a pleasant 
 vacation. 
 
 "Forget all about us for three weeks," said Dea- 
 con Stanford, as Allan bent over and shook his 
 hand in farewell. 
 
 "Oh, think of us once in a while, but come back 
 rested !" exclaimed Grace Markley, who was stand- 
 ing by the Deacon's side. 
 
 "Come back soon. We need you here !" cried 
 out a chorus of voices. 
 
 The conductor came running out of the tele- 
 graph office, holding his watch in his hand, and 
 signaled to the engineer to start. The train be- 
 gan to move. 
 
 "Good-by, good-by, God bless you all," said 
 Allan simply. 
 
 Led by Grace Markley the crowd began to sing: 
 
 134
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 135 
 
 "God be with you till we meet again: 
 By his counsels guide uphold you 
 With his sheep securely fold you, 
 God be with you till we meet again." 
 
 The speed of the train increased. The sound 
 of the farewell music died away in the distance. 
 Allan stood waving his hand until the train shot 
 round a bend and hid his friends from view, as 
 they waved their handkerchiefs in a last salute. 
 As the train rushed along through the fertile fields, 
 green with corn, and waving with wheat and oats, 
 he watched the city of Wellington until it became 
 a speck on the prairie. 
 
 "I will come back again," he said to himself, 
 "My work for God lies in Wellington. I will finish 
 the work he has given me to do." Allan changed 
 cars after a while, at a junction station, taking a. 
 branch railroad, which ran alongside the DCS 
 Moines River. He had a long wait for this local' 
 train, and it was supper time before he reached 
 the little village, three miles from his father's 
 farm. He took supper at the village, and then 
 started to walk to his destination, as he had not 
 written home anything about his coming, wishing 
 to surprise them. 
 
 It was in July. Iowa was as lovely as a picture, 
 and fruitful as the Garden of Eden. The corn had 
 just been "laid by," as the farmers say when corn 
 plowing is over. The immense fields of this rich 
 p cereal, in which lies the wealth of the Mississippi 
 Valley, looked beautiful with their long, regular 
 rows of tall, green stalks. Waving fields of wheat,
 
 136 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ready for the reaper, and acres of oats, turning to 
 a golden yellow, promised a rich reward to the till- 
 ers of the soil. 
 
 The picturesque Des Moines River flowed plac- 
 idly by his side, as Allan wended his way along its 
 wooded banks, over the familiar road he knew so 
 well. 
 
 The golden sun was setting in the West, like a 
 crowned monarch retiring for the day, his royal 
 robes adorning the horizon with a glory surpass- 
 ing that of Solomon. All was peace. There was 
 peace in the heavens above and peace on the earth 
 beneath. The lovely, modern homes of the pros- 
 perous Iowa farmers, surrounded by lawns, trees 
 and gardens, spoke of peace and comfort. 
 
 The glad cries of children, as they followed the 
 cattle home to the stalls, were music in Allan's 
 ears, recalling the happiest memories. He drew 
 near to his father's farm. How happy his youth 
 had been ! What a peaceful lot was that of his 
 parents ! Had he not acted foolishly himself in 
 leaving the farm? How mean and squalid the 
 strife in Wellington was compared with the manly 
 independence of a farmer's life ! 
 
 "But my duty," reflected Allan, "is to be an am- 
 bassador of Christ in the world. His Gospel has 
 created this happiness and prosperity all around 
 me here. It will yet fill the world with gladness, 
 but it means work and struggle for some of us 
 before the victory is complete." 
 
 Allan's parents lived in a modern home, with all 
 conveniences. The house was heated with a fur- 
 nace and lit with gas, furnished by their own light-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 137 
 
 ing plant. Mail was delivered every day ai cheir 
 gate by the rural mail' service of the Government, 
 and a telephone gave instant communication with 
 the outside world. 
 
 The farm provided a steady income,, year by 
 year, which had enabled Mr. and Mr?. Rutledge 
 to rear a family with every advantage and them- 
 selves enjoy many of the good things of life. 
 
 "What was John Wesley thinking of when he 
 wrote about the misery of a farmer's life," said Al- 
 lan to himself, recalling the famous passage in 
 Wesley's "Journal," in which the great English 
 preacher says: "In the little journeys which I have 
 lately taken I have thought much on the huge en- 
 coniums which have been for ages bestowed on a 
 country life. How have all the learned world cried 
 out: 
 
 'O fortunati nimium, sua si bona norint 
 Agricolae.' 
 
 "But, after all what a contradiction is this 
 to universal experience. See that little house, un- 
 der the wood, by the river side. This is rural life 
 in perfection. How happy, then, is the farmer 
 who lives there ! Let us take a detail of his hap- 
 piness. He rises with, or before, the sun, calls 
 his servants, looks to his swine and cows, then to 
 his stables and barns. He sees to the plowing and 
 sowing of his ground, in winter or spring. In 
 summer and autumn he hurries and sweats among 
 ms mowers and reapers. And where is his happi- 
 ness in the mean time? Which of these employ-
 
 138 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ments do we envy? Or do we envy the delicate 
 repast that succeeds, which the poet so languishes 
 for? 
 
 'Oh, the happiness of eating beans well greased 
 
 with fat bacon. 
 Nay, and cabbage, too.' 
 
 "Was Horace in his senses when he talked thus, 
 or the servile herd of his imitators? Our eyes and 
 ears may convince us there is not a less happy 
 body of men in all England than the country farm- 
 ers. In general, their life is supremely dull, and 
 it is usually unhappy, too. For of all the people 
 in the kingdom they are most discontented; sel- 
 dom satisfied either with God or man." 
 
 "The English farmers of Wesley's day may have 
 been miserable," thought Allan, "but in this Mid- 
 dle West the farmer is king." 
 
 He opened the gate quietly and walked up to 
 the front door of his old home and knocked. A 
 big dog came bounding round the house bark- 
 ing, and leaped on him in joy, as it recognized its 
 former master. The front door was open, but the 
 screen was hooked. Allan knocked again, and his 
 mother appeared in the room. At the sight of her 
 son on the porch she gave a glad cry of welcome. 
 
 "Come in, my boy, come in ! We have been 
 longing to see you. Dick has been telling us all 
 about your trouble. Come in, come in !" and the 
 good mother wept with her arms around her 
 preacher-son. 
 
 "It is all right, mother," he answered gently,
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 139 
 
 "things are coming out all right. I've come to> 
 stay three weeks with you." 
 
 As his brothers and sisters came in to greet him, 
 Allan began to feel the power of the old home to 
 soothe and bless. John Howard Payne's immortal 
 song speaks a universal truth: 
 
 " 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." 
 
 Soon his father hurried in from the yard to greet 
 him. "Welcome back, Allan!" said his father. 
 "How goes the battle in Wellington?" 
 
 "It is going to be a victory, 1 am sure, father," 
 answered his son. "But let us not mention Well- 
 ington any more. I have come here for a three 
 weeks' rest, and I want to be a boy again. Treat 
 me just as you did when I came back from col- 
 lege for my vacations. I am getting old too fast. 
 I want mother to hear me say my prayers to- 
 night, just as she used to do when I was a child." 
 
 They understood, and they treated Allan as one 
 of themselves again. He breathed in the peaceful 
 atmosphere of the farm. His tired nerves were 
 rejuvenated. His old, cheerful spirit returned. 
 Everything became bright* 
 
 But an unexpected pleasure suddenly made his 
 visit home a dream of happiness. On his second 
 day on the farm he had wandered up the river's 
 bank for a couple of miles, enjoying the fresh 
 mprning air and the woodland scenery, filled with 
 memories of former days. He was approaching a 
 place where he remembered there was a view of
 
 140 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 special cagnificence at a sweeping bend of the 
 river, when suddenly he found out he was not en- 
 joying the beauties of the Des Moines alone. A 
 fair, girlish form was standing on a knoll a little 
 in front of him, gazing with evident delight on the 
 long vista of river, woods and farms. Hearing his 
 footsteps, she turned quickly. A glad cry es- 
 caped from her lips. 
 
 "Allan, Allan, you here!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Mabel !" cried Allan, and bounded to her side. 
 
 After the first greetings were over both were 
 somewhat embarrassed. Allan was the first to re- 
 cover himself. 
 
 "What are you doing here, Miss Grayson?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "What are you doing here, Mr. Rutledge?" re- 
 sponded the girl. 
 
 "I live here," said Allan. "Our home is only 
 two miles down the river." 
 
 "Why," said Mabel Grayson, in astonishment, 
 "I thought you lived miles and miles from this 
 place. This is a delightful spot. A party of us 
 from Des Moines are camping along the bank of 
 the river about half a mile away. I walked over 
 here to enjoy the view. Come and see our camp," 
 she added. 
 
 "I am home for a three weeks' rest," said Allan. 
 "I had expected to have a splendid time on the old 
 farm, but I never dreamed of seeing you." 
 
 They walked slowly toward the camp, talking 
 over many things. What the conversation was 
 about did not seem to make much difference witn 
 Allan. He felt satisfied to be in her presence
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 141! 
 
 again. Knowing intuitively that any reference to 
 his trouble with the college at Wellington would 
 annoy him, she thoughtfully refrained from men- 
 tioning Wellington, except incidentally. 
 
 "Let us sit down here a while," said Allan, after 
 they had gone about a quarter of a mile, "and 
 talk." 
 
 "What will we talk about?" asked Mabel. , 
 
 "Tell me about Mr. Bryan's visit to Des 
 Moines," answered Allan. 
 
 Mabel told all about the dinner party and about 
 the lecture of the far-famed Nebraskan. 
 
 "Mr. Bryan is a great and a good man," she con- 
 tinued. "Papa and he do not agree on politics, but 
 papa thinks Mr. Bryan is a model American and an 
 earnest Christian man. Did you ever hear him 
 speak?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied Allan, "I have heard him make a 
 political address, but I should be delighted to hear 
 him again, especially on such a subject as the 
 'Prince of Peace.' " 
 
 "It was truly a noble tribute to our King," said 
 the girl reverently. "I shall never forget the thrill 
 that, went through his vast audience that night 
 when he spoke of immortality. I learned the pass- 
 age by heart the next day from the newspaper re- 
 port. Here it is." 
 
 With a far-away look in her eyes, as she gazed 
 across the river, the girl repeated Mr. Bryan's 
 noble words in her sweet musical voice, while 
 AUan listened with rapt attention: 
 
 " 'If the Father deigns to touch with divine 
 power the cold and pulseless heart of the buried
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 acorn and to make it burst forth from its prison 
 walls, will he leave neglected in the earth the soul 
 of man, made in the image of his Creator? If he 
 stoops to give to the rosebush, whose withered 
 blossoms float on the autumn breeze, the sweet as- 
 surance of another springtime, will he refuse the 
 words of hope to the sons of men when the frosts 
 of winter come? If matter, mute and inanimate, 
 though changed by the forces of nature into a mul- 
 titude of forms, can never die, will the spirit of 
 man suffer annihilation when it has paid a brief 
 visit, like a royal guest, to this tenement of clay? 
 No, I am as sure that there is another life as I 
 am that I live to-day.' " 
 
 Allan was happy. He could nave listened all 
 day to the music of Mabel Grayson's voice. 
 
 But, as she finished the quotation, the girl 
 jumped to her feet, saying: "We must be going, 
 or they will be hunting for me as lost." 
 
 And they walked up the river's bank together to 
 the camp.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE STORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND 
 ANN RUTLEDGE. 
 
 After the discovery of the "camp" on the banks 
 of the river, Allan was a frequent visitor, and soon 
 became very popular with Mabel's young friends. ^ 
 He knew the country and the river at that point as 
 only a native can know a place. He brought up a 
 boat from his father's, and put it at the service of 
 the campers. He told them of the best fishing 
 spots and took them for long rambles over the 
 countryside. 
 
 One morning he drove up to the camp in a 
 buggy and handed Mabel an invitation from his 
 mother to spend the day at the Rutledge farm. She 
 was delighted with the prospect of meeting Allan's 
 family and accepted at once. 
 
 Allan had a sister, Edith, a little younger than 
 Mabel Grayson, who had spent a couple of years 
 at the Normal College at Cedar Falls and was now 
 teaching the local school. Mabel found her an ex- 
 ceptionally intelligent and pleasant girl. But be- 
 tween Mrs. Rutledge and Mabel there was a bond 
 of affection from the beginning. They had heard 
 a good deal of each other through Allan, and the 
 meeting was a pleasure to both. 
 & Mrs. Rutledge superintended in the kitchen that 
 
 143
 
 144 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 morning, and the dinner was a credit to a well or- 
 dered Iowa farmhouse, which is the highest kind 
 of compliment. 
 
 After the hearty dinner was over, Mrs. Rutledge 
 and Mabel had a long talk together in the parlor. 
 During this conversation Allan was mentioned 
 quite often, and once Mabel remarked that he was 
 a great admirer of Abraham Lincoln, and often 
 quoted the war President in his sermons. 
 
 "He would not be a Rutledge if he did not ad- 
 mire Abraham Lincoln," said Mrs. Rutledge in re- 
 ply. "Abraham Lincoln is well remembered in the 
 life story of the Rutledge family." 
 
 "How is that?" asked Mabel, very much inter- 
 ested. 
 
 "Did you never hear the story of Abraham Lin- 
 coln and Ann Rutledge?" said Allan's mother, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "I must have forgotten it if I did," said the girl, 
 with a blush. 
 
 "The world doesn't know much about that in- 
 cident in Lincoln's life," went on the good lady. 
 "Such things are soon forgotten, but the influence 
 of Ann Rutledge, who was a sister of Allan's 
 grandpa, was one of the forces that helped to make 
 Lincoln what he was." 
 
 "Tell me about it," said Mabel eagerly, and Mrs. 
 Rutledge told her the tender story of Abraham 
 Lincoln's early love. 
 
 "I often heard Allan's grandpa tell it," Mrs. Rut- 
 ledge began, "and I never tired of hearing him 
 speak of his sweet sister, Ann. He used to tell 
 how Abraham Lincoln first came to New Salem
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 145 
 
 in Illinois, in the early thirties, and James Rut- 
 ledge, his father, was one of the first men who saw 
 what was in the coming President. He was so 
 lank and ungainly that some thought he was only 
 a lout, but James Rutledge that's Allan's great- 
 grandfather, took to Lincoln from the start. Ann 
 Rutledge was the third child, and she grew up to 
 be a girl of uncommon beauty. She was as good 
 as she was beautiful. In all that country there 
 was no maid like Ann Rutledge. She had a host 
 of admirers, but she finally chose one, called 
 McNeil, a young and prosperous trader and 
 farmer of New Salem. Soon after they were en- 
 gaged to be married Ann had a terrible shock. 
 McNeil told her that he had been living under a 
 false name. His real name was McNamar but he 
 had changed his name when he came West, as he 
 wanted to build up a fortune unknown to his peo- 
 ple in the East. He said he had an aged father, 
 and that he wanted to sell out his business in Illi- 
 nois, and go back to take care of him. He prom- 
 ised to return and wed Ann, who had given him 
 all the love of her young heart. She agreed to 
 await his return. 
 
 "After he went East letters came for some time, 
 but they came less and less frequently, and at last 
 ceased altogether. Ann was only nineteen at this 
 time, and I have heard Allan's grandpa tell how 
 the blow of McNamar's treatment soon began to 
 tell on Ann's health. It was at this time that 
 Abraham Lincoln learned to love her. She knew 
 well what a man Lincoln was, and it grieved her 
 sore that she was bound so she could not return
 
 146 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 his love. At last she told him all about her false 
 lover. She had now ceased to love McNamar, as 
 she could not love a man who had proved so false, 
 but she was so high principled that she felt he 
 must release her before she could enter into an- 
 other engagement. Finally, she yielded to Lin- 
 coln's wooing, and became betrothed, though she 
 still felt that the other lover had a claim on her 
 life. 
 
 "When Lincoln knew that there was hope that 
 Ann Rutledge might be his wife, he seemed like a 
 new man. He took up the work of life with new 
 vigor. Never was he so happy, before or after, 
 as during those days when he was looking forward 
 to an early marriage with the noble and beautiful 
 girl, who had now given him her affection. It 
 was at this time that he entered the State Legisla- 
 ture, and began that political career which ended 
 in the White House." 
 
 Mabel was listening intently, as the old lady re- 
 called the scenes of the past. Her eye was moist 
 in sympathy with the sorrow-riven heart of the 
 gentle Ann. 
 
 "Did they ever hear of McNamar again?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I remember how grandpa would boil," an- 
 swered Allan's mother, "as we mentioned the name 
 of that faithless lover. He really killed Ann. 
 They never cared to know anything about him. 
 Poor Ann had an affection for Lincoln. She al- 
 ways called him 'Abraham.' not 'Abe,' as the rest 
 did. But she was a highly sensitive girl, and the
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 147 
 
 long strain about McNamar was too much. Her 
 health began to fail. Her friends could see her 
 droop. But Lincoln refused to believe that the 
 light of his life was to go out so soon. At last she 
 sent for him and they talked together alone for a 
 long time. No one ever knew just what passed 
 between them, but when Lincoln left the house 
 that day he knew she was going, and he never was 
 the same man again. Before that he was always 
 calm and self-controlled, but his whole soul seemed 
 to collapse before the coming blow." 
 
 Mabel listened with tear-filled eyes, but she did 
 not interrupt, and Mrs. Rutledge kept on : 
 
 "On the 25th of August, 1835, Ann Rutledge 
 died, but she never died out of Lincoln's heart. He 
 never forgot her, but in her grave was buried his 
 last hope of ever knowing the joy of a satisfied 
 heart. His grief at the time was terrible to wit- 
 ness. I well remember, when I was a girl, I have 
 heard grandpa tell of it, and he would cry himself, 
 as he told of poor Lincoln's agony. Lincoln used 
 to moan piteously, 'I never can be reconciled to 
 have the snow, rain and storms beat upon her 
 grave.' It was feared for a while that he would lose 
 his reason. They used to watch him, so that he 
 might not be allowed to injure himself. After a 
 few weeks he got better, and began to work again, 
 but he was like a man in despair. It was at this 
 time that he learned those verses that people al- 
 ^yays associate with his name. Grandpa told us 
 how he would sit by himself and say over and 
 over again those sad lines:
 
 148 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 'Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 
 Like a swift fleeting meteor a fast flying cloud 
 A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
 He passeth from life to the rest of the grave. 
 
 'The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, 
 
 Be scattered around and together be laid, 
 
 And the young and the old, and the low and the 
 
 high, 
 Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.' 
 
 "He could not mention the name of his lost 
 love," continued Mrs. Rutledge, "but he would 
 break down and cry. When Allan was a little 
 fellow his grandpa was an old man, but Allan 
 used to like to hear the story. Allan has always 
 felt as though Lincoln was related to him. It has 
 had an influence on the boy's life in more ways 
 than one. Grandpa felt nearly as bad as Lincoln 
 about the death of his lovely sister Ann, and he 
 used to say he wanted to live so that Ann would 
 never be ashamed of him when they met in the 
 better world. I will always believe that Abraham 
 Lincoln owed a great deal to the memory of that 
 pure, beautiful, heart-broken girl, who won his 
 great heart when he was an unknown young man 
 at New Salem." 
 
 "It was sad, wasn't it?" said Mabel. 
 
 "I was back in Illinois," responded Mrs. Rut- 
 ledge, "some years ago, and I went to look at Ann 
 Rutledge's grave. Only a simple stone with her 
 name marks the spot. It is so different from Lin- 
 coln's grand tomb in Springfield, but I know well 
 that if Lincoln had his wish Ann would have had
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 149 
 
 the marble masouleum, and for her sake he would 
 have been content with a simple headstone. It's 
 a sad story," concluded Allan's mother, "and per- 
 haps I should not have told it to you, for you are 
 so young and happy." 
 
 "Thank you very much for telling me the story. 
 I shall always remember Ann Rutledge. I know 
 now why Allan reveres Lincoln's memory." 
 
 "Come down from Des Moines some time," said 
 Mrs. Rutledge, as Mabel left for the "camp" in 
 the evening, "and visit with us for a week or two. 
 Edith and all of us will be glad to see you." 
 
 Mabel promised to make a visit at corn gather- 
 ing time, and she and Allan drove up the river 
 road. 
 
 "What a lovely home you have," Mabel said, 
 after a silence. "I do not know when I have en- 
 joyed myself so much as to-day. Your mother 
 told me the story of Ann Rutledge. Wasn't it 
 sad? Poor Ann! Yet I think, as your mother 
 says, her influence was one of the forces that 
 molded Lincoln into the man that he was." 
 
 "Life is a strange jumble sometimes. Isn't it?" 
 remarked Allan. 
 
 "Yes, but do you notice, Mr. Rutledge, that all 
 things work for good, and even the tragedy of Ann 
 Rutledge's life wrought for the blessing of the 
 world." 
 
 "I am beginning to see that truth more clearly 
 than ever before," answered Allan "we know it 
 must be so, but often Providence has been mys- 
 terious to me." 
 
 "They have lit a big camp fire to-night," cried
 
 150 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Mabel, as a bend in the road showed a gleaming 
 fire at the camp. "Stay with us for a while, Mr. 
 Rutledge, and we will have some camp fire mus- 
 ings." 
 
 Allan did not need a second invitation. When 
 they were seated in a ring around the blazing fire, 
 Allan was asked for a story. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of Pat and Bridget's wed- 
 ding?" asked Allan. 
 
 "No, tell us about it," they cried in a chorus. 
 
 "It was the wedding day of Pat and Bridget," 
 began Allan, "and they were having a church wed- 
 ding. It was a grand affair. Pat was dressed 
 with patent leather shoes, white vest and flaming 
 tie. Bridget was arrayed in all the colors of the 
 rainbow. After the interesting ceremony was 
 over, and the happy pair walked down the aisle 
 and out into the street, a great crowd looked on 
 with delight. The occasion was an important one, 
 and Bridget felt her dignity to the full. When 
 they had reached the waiting cab, and were seated 
 within, Bridget leaned over to Pat and said, in a 
 loud whisper: "Och, Pat, if we could only have 
 stood on the sidewalk and watched ourselves pass, 
 wouldn't it have been hivin?' ''' 
 
 There were shouts of laughter and calls for an- 
 other story, but Allan called on Mabel for a song. 
 
 "Give us one of Burns' songs," he requested. 
 
 The surroundings were romantic. The dark 
 woods were lit up with a weird glare from the fire. 
 The waters of the Des Moines River were mur- 
 muring by their sides. The fitful flames of the 
 burning logs played on the gay faces of the happy
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 151 
 
 young people. Two elderly people, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Heron, of Des Moines, were the chaperons of the 
 party, and they were seated at the door of their 
 tent. There were two other large sleeping tents, 
 a dining room tent and a kitchen tent. It was a 
 striking picture, reminding one of Indian life in 
 bygone days. 
 
 "I will sing 'Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie 
 Doon,' if you like," said Mabel. 
 
 "Yes! yes!" all cried. 
 
 Mabel stood up beside the fire to sing. As her 
 sweet, rich voice rose in the night air, a spell 
 seemed to come over the company, and she sang, 
 with deep feeling, the pathetic song of Scotland's 
 poet. She was thinking of Ann Rutledge and her 
 sad story as she sang, and Allan knew it well. 
 Never were the words of this Scottish song ren- 
 dered more effectively than that night on the Des 
 Moines. 
 
 "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
 How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 And I sae weary, fu' o' care? 
 
 "Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, 
 That wantons through the flowering thorn; 
 Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
 Departed never to return. 
 
 "Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; 
 And my fause lover stole my rose, 
 But ah, he left the thorn wi' me."
 
 152 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 There was a silence as she ceased, broken only 
 by the gentle murmurs of the river's waters and 
 the crackling of the camp fire. 
 
 Then Mabel's mood changed. She began to 
 sing merrily the old favorite, "Good Night, La- 
 dies." They all joined hands in a large circle 
 around the dying fire, and dancing around the flick- 
 ering glare, like sylvan elves, they sang in heart- 
 iest notes together: 
 
 "Good night, ladies; good night, ladies; good 
 
 night, ladies; 
 
 We're going to leave you now. 
 Farewell, ladies; farewell, ladies; farewell, ladies; 
 We're going to leave you now. 
 Sweet dreams, ladies; sweet dreams, ladies; sweet 
 
 dreams, ladies; 
 
 We're going to leave you now. 
 Merrily we roll along, over the dark blue sea." 
 
 Allan drove home that night with his whole soul 
 reveling in "sweet dreams."
 
 "'HOW CAN YE CHANT, YE LI rTt,E BIRDS. AND I SAE WEARY, 
 
 FU' o' CARE.'' Page 152.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE WELLINGTON CHAUTAUQUA. 
 
 When Rev. Allan Rutledge stepped off the train 
 at Wellington on his return from his vacation on 
 the old farm he was like a new man. It did not 
 seem possible that this tanned, care-free athlete 
 was the same pale, care-worn preacher who had 
 left Wellington just three weeks before. He 
 looked five years younger and he had the step of 
 a conquerer as he walked up the street to his 
 home. The cordial greetings given him on every 
 hand added to his pleasure in arriving once more 
 at the scene of his task in life. 
 
 The Wellington's Chautauqua was in full blast 
 on his return, and the next day he was to appear 
 on the program and deliver a lecture on "Interna- 
 tional Peace." He spent a good part of the inter- 
 vening time in preparation for this address, and 
 did not go out to the Chautauqua grounds until 
 the following day at the hour when he was to ap- 
 pear on the platform. The Chautauquas of the 
 Middle West are among its most picturesque 
 features in the summer time. The AVellington 
 Chautauqua was famed as one of the largest in 
 the State of Iowa. A monster tent had been 
 Erected in a shady grove, near the college, and 
 
 153
 
 154 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 around this big tent a little white city had arisen, 
 in which were camping a large number of the citi- 
 zens and also farmers from throughout the coun- 
 try. 
 
 The whole community united in the enterprise, 
 and this common social life for about eight or ten 
 days brought all classes together. Bohemians 
 were camped beside Englishmen, and old-time 
 Yankees were surrounded by tents, in which lived 
 Germans, Frenchmen, Irishmen, Swedes and other 
 nationalities which make up the throbbing, vigor- 
 ous life of the West. 
 
 In the large Chautauqua tent a varied program 
 was given daily, lasting from morning until late at 
 night, during the week or ten days of the gather- 
 ing. Colored minstrels sang. Cartoonists and 
 lightning artists drew pictures on the stage. 
 Prominent Congressmen and Senators lectured on 
 all kinds of subjects. Reformers made addresses, 
 and bell-ringers, orchestras and bands added to 
 the variety of the entertainment and to the pleas- 
 ure of the assembled thousands. During the Sab- 
 bath days popular religious services were held, and 
 preachers of international reputation delivered re- 
 ligious discourses. 
 
 Everyone of the three thousand seats in the big 
 Chautauqua tent was occupied, and hundreds were 
 standing around the edges of the tent, when Allan 
 mounted the platform to give his lecture. It was 
 the first time that the majority of the people had 
 seen him since his return, and the greeting was 
 tremendous. The thousands rose as one man, 
 cheering and waving handkerchiefs. When the
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 155 
 
 tumult had subsided, Allan began in a quiet way 
 and introduced his subject to the audience. 
 
 About the middle of the tent sat Grace Markley 
 by the side of her mother. When she saw Allan 
 stride to the front of the platform, with health and 
 vigor in his every movement and power in his 
 whole bearing, she was delighted to see how much 
 his vacations had revived him. And when she saw 
 the crowded audience rise in its enthusiastic greet- 
 ing her joy knew no bounds. "Mr. Rutledge has 
 won," she said to herself. 
 
 "There are two kinds of people who do not ap- 
 prove of war," said the speaker, as he went on 
 in his lecture. "There are some who are like the 
 Irishman who had enlisted in the army in a spirit 
 of adventure, but when his regiment marched into 
 battle Pat apparently made up his mind very 
 quickly that he did not approve of war at least 
 for himself and so he retreated to the rear with- 
 out waiting for orders. His commanding officer 
 called him into his presence later on and demanded 
 what he meant by retreating to the rear without 
 orders, as soon as the action began. 'Your honor,' 
 said Erin's son, T have a heart in me as brave as 
 the heart of Julius Csesar, but I can't foight, 
 gineral, for when the action begins me cowardly 
 legs run away with me.' " 
 
 Loud laughter here interrupted the speaker, for 
 a Chautauqua audience is always in good humor, 
 and before Allan could resume Pat McGinnis, who 
 A^as seated near the front, yelled out: "Your rivir- 
 ince, that man wasn't an Oirishman. He was a 
 Russian." Again the audience laughed.
 
 156 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "I stand corrected," said Allan smilingly. "I al- 
 ways thought that soldier did not act like an Irish- 
 man, although he talked like one." 
 
 Great applause greeted this happy remark, and 
 the audience was now enraptured with the 
 speaker. 
 
 "But there are a rapidly growing number in our 
 day," went on Allan earnestly, "who do not ap- 
 prove of war because they look upon it as irra- 
 tional, barbarous and wicked on the part of Chris- 
 tian nations when settling disputes among them- 
 selves. The growing spirit of humanity and jus- 
 tice, and the widespread teachings of the Prince 
 of Peace in the world, are changing the opinions 
 of men in regard to this method of settling dis- 
 putes among the nations of the earth. The reign 
 of international peace is no irridescent dream/' 
 proclaimed the lecturer. "Practical men like An- 
 drew Carnegie, and leading statesman, like Theo- 
 dore Roosevelt, and James Bryce, of England, are 
 ardent advocates of this all-important reform. 
 Tennyson, as he dipped into the future, sang of a 
 time when 
 
 'The war drum would throb no longer 
 And the battle flag be furled, 
 In a Parliament of Man, 
 A Federation of the world.' 
 
 Tennyson's dream will become a reality." 
 
 "The worst thing about war," said Allan, grow- 
 ing more and more enthusiastic, and carrying his 
 audience with him in the fervency of his eloquence,
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 157 
 
 "is not the loss of wealth that it entails, making it 
 necessary for the weary toilers of humanity to 
 spend their strength for years in creating wealth 
 that is poured out like water in a war of a few 
 weeks' duration. 
 
 "The worst thing about war is not the carnage 
 on the battlefield, the awful agonies of the wound- 
 ed, the men maimed for life, the widowed mothers 
 and orphaned children, terrible as all this is. The 
 worst thing about war is that it is virtually a denial 
 of reason, an insult to justice and a proclamation 
 by men that in this world of God's, might makes 
 right. Abraham Lincoln once said, 'Nothing is 
 ever settled until it is settled right,' and Abraham 
 Lincoln spoke the truth. If two nations have a 
 dispute, and they appeal to war as a method of set- 
 tling this dispute, the stronger nation may crush 
 the weaker, but that does not prove that the 
 stronger nation was right. War is a proper method 
 for tigers and dogs to use in settling their disputes 
 in the jungle and in the barnyard, but among civ- 
 ilized and Christian men war is barbarous and 
 monstrous. Among ren it is not war that set- 
 tles things. It is JUSTICE." 
 
 As Allan pealed out these last words, his voice 
 was like the sound of many waters. His argu- 
 ment struck home. The appeal to justice aroused 
 a common feeling in the breasts of the various na- 
 tionalities in his audience. A simultaneous burst 
 of deafening applause broke out all over the crowd. 
 Jijitice is a platform broad enough to include all 
 the nations of men, and, standing on this platform, 
 men can respect themselves and one another.
 
 158 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "There are some here, I expect," went on Allan, 
 toward the close of his address, "who are wonder- 
 ing about the actual realization of international 
 peace through an International Arbitration Court. 
 It is true that back of every court of justice in the 
 world, as it is to-day, there must be the policeman 
 to uphold the decisions of the court. And back of 
 this International Arbitration Court there would 
 need be an international police force to uphold its 
 decisions among the nations of the world. But 
 the organization of this international police force 
 is going to be easily solved," continued Allan, 
 looking at Pat McGinnis with a smile. "We can 
 get all the policemen we need at any time, for Ire- 
 land is ready to put in a bid to supply them all." 
 
 Like all experienced Chautauqua orators, Allan 
 well knew the value of a little humor in such an 
 address as his.. At this sally Pat McGinnis led 
 them all in hearty laughter. Allan concluded his 
 powerful message with a glowing tribute to the 
 United States of America as the nation having in 
 its hands to-day the destiny of the world. 
 
 "One of America's duties to humanity at this 
 hour is the inauguration of a movement which will 
 forever drive out the horrors, brutality and un- 
 reason of war and militarism from among men, 
 and bring in an era of international peace. 
 
 "'Let woe and waste of warfare cease, 
 That useful labor yet may build 
 Its homes with love and laughter fillled. 
 
 God, give thy wayward children peace." 
 
 The stillness of a summer's eve was over the
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 159 
 
 audience for a moment when Allan had ceased. 
 Then once more the people rose and cheered to the 
 echo the message and the man. 
 
 When Allan went around the Chautauqua 
 grounds that afternoon, he was greeted on every 
 hand with the utmost cordiality. Dr. Lucas and 
 Deacon Stanford were among the first to con- 
 gratulate him on his magnificent lecture, and also 
 on his improved appearance. 
 
 "Doctor," said Allan laughingly to Dr. Lucas, 
 "your pills are all right, but there is no medicine 
 for me like the old farm." 
 
 "That is the remark of a wise physician," an- 
 swered the doctor. 
 
 Grace Markley was also one of the first to speak 
 to him and tell him of her pleasure in seeing him 
 look so strong and well. 
 
 "I knew that a rest was all you needed," she 
 added. 
 
 "I had a glorious time," responded Allan, with a 
 joy in his eye which did not escape Grace's obser- 
 vation. "Your cousin, Miss Grayson, was camp- 
 ing, along with some Des Moines friends, about 
 two miles from our home and we had a most de- 
 lightful time." 
 
 He was about to leave the grounds, when some- 
 thing altogether unexpected happened. Walking 
 along alone, he met President Older and Professor 
 Gilrnan face to face. Allan had not met the pro- 
 fessor since that eventful night when he had 
 ejected him from the room in the college. Presi- 
 oent Older bowed coldly, but the professor turned 
 his head the other way.
 
 160 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Allan was now altogether himself again, and, 
 thinking that it was right he should offer terms 
 of' reconciliation to the college people, he stopped 
 in front of them. 
 
 "How are you, Dr. Older?" said the minister, 
 holding out his hand. 
 
 The college president ignored Allan's hand, and 
 said frigidly: "Quite as well as usual, Mr. Rut- 
 ledge." 
 
 Without paying further attention to the minis- 
 ter, both of them were passing on, when Allan 
 turned to President Older and said, with great 
 earnestness : "Dr. Older, I am desirous of healing 
 the breach between the college and the church in 
 Wellington. The unseemly strife is hurting the 
 cause of the kingdom of God here, for which both 
 institutions exist. Can we not let bygones be by- 
 gones, and all of us commence anew after vacation, 
 working together for our common cause." 
 
 "The church and the college will work together 
 after you have resigned and not before," said the 
 president with a sneer. "We expect the breach to 
 be healed soon, but it can only be healed in one 
 way." 
 
 The dark eyes of Allan Rutledge gleamed like 
 fire as he noticed the sneering tone of the educa- 
 tor, but, controlling himself, he made one more 
 effort. 
 
 "President Older," he answered slowly and 
 thoughtfully, as though weighing every word, "you 
 can see for yourself that the community approves 
 of my ministry in Wellington. I am human and 
 I make mistakes, as men always have done and
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 161 
 
 always will do, but the church and community 
 accept me as God's minister in spite of my failings. 
 With me the voice of my people is the voice of 
 God. I am in Wellington to remain, and I offer 
 you this opportunity for reconciliation." 
 
 "When we need advice from you, Rutledge," 
 broke in Professor Gilman, who had been listen- 
 ing to Allan with a dark frown of hatred, "we will 
 ask it. You have shown us what you are and we 
 want no more of you." 
 
 With a burst of righteous indignation, such as 
 Paul showed toward Elymas in Cyprus, Allan 
 turned on the professor, who drew back with a 
 start. 
 
 "I showed the community what you are, sir," 
 said Allan, with blazing eye. "I was not address- 
 ing you; I was speaking to the president of the 
 college. Pray be good enough to allow us the 
 privilege of an interview." 
 
 The professor skulked off in confusion, and Al- 
 lan again turned to Dr. Older. 
 
 "I am deeply in earnest about this matter, doc- 
 tor. It has meant a good deal for me to come to 
 you in this way, but I have felt it my duty to do 
 this in the spirit of a Christian. I offer you again 
 this opportunity to reconcile the church and the 
 college without further damage to the cause of 
 Christ in Iowa. Will you accept it?" 
 
 President Older hesitated. He had just seen the 
 influence that Allan had gained over the com- 
 munity in the reception they had given him in the 
 Chautauqua tent. No other speaker had aroused 
 an equal enthusiasm. He well knew Allan's force
 
 162 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 as a speaker, his record as a student, and he was 
 convinced that he was a young man of intense zeal 
 for the religion he professed and preached. To 
 drive such a man out of his pulpit meant a battle. 
 In spite of the influence of the leaders of the 
 church in Iowa he was well aware that many of 
 the rank and file of the Iowa ministry were on Al- 
 lan's side openly. 
 
 But Dr. Older thought of Elder Markley. He 
 thought of the minister's jealous fellow-pastors in 
 the State, who were already rejoicing in his appar- 
 ently imminent downfall, and had promised their 
 assistance at the convention. He remembered that 
 the whole program in regard to the "Rutledge mat- 
 ter" had been outlined, and that to change his pol- 
 icy now would alienate some of his former friends. 
 
 "There are more concerned in this matter than 
 myself," he replied, at length. "Only on one con- 
 dition can the church and the college in Welling- 
 ton work in harmony again. You must resign." 
 
 "Doctor," replied Allan, "if you decide to es- 
 pouse the side of the church in this matter, all 
 other opposition falls to the ground. You alone 
 give it strength." 
 
 "I have begun this fight on you," said the college 
 lege president, "and I am going to carry it to a 
 finish," and there was a ring of vindictiveness in 
 his voice. 
 
 "Dr. Older," said Allan, and there was a tremble 
 in his voice, "that is not religion. But be it so," 
 he added sadly. "Later on some day you will re- 
 member that I offered you peace and that you 
 chose war."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A MIDNIGHT ALARM. 
 
 "Toot, toot, too-oo-oo-oo-oot." 
 
 The piercing cry of the fire alarm startled the 
 midnight air in Wellington the night after the 
 Chautauqua had closed. 
 
 "Too-oo-oot, too-oo-oo-oot." 
 
 Allan Rutledge awoke and jumped to his feet. 
 
 "Fire, fire !" someone yelled in the street below, 
 and he could see the lurid reflection of flames on 
 his bedroom wall. He rushed to the window, and 
 saw that the fire was blazing not more than a 
 block away. Hastily dressing himself, Allan ran in 
 the direction of the burning house. A crowd was 
 fast collecting. People were hurrying, many of 
 them only half-dressed, along the street. In a city 
 like Wellington a fire is a most dreaded enemy. 
 The frame buildings burn like tinder if a blaze gets 
 well started. Whole towns have been swept out 
 of existence in a single night by the devouring 
 flames. Wellington had a volunteer fire depart- 
 ment. The city owned two hose carts, with hook 
 and ladder combination, and a chemical engine. 
 Two horses were kept in constant readiness, and 
 tjie driver slept at the fire house, but the firemen 
 were citizens who had volunteered their services. 
 
 163
 
 164 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 At the sound of the fire alarm these volunteers re- 
 ported at the fire house as quickly as possible. 
 When a fire alarm is turned in the telephone opera- 
 tor at "central" also connects the homes of all the 
 firemen and sends out a general call, supplement- 
 ing the notice which the fire whistle gives. 
 
 "It is old Abe Daniels' house! The roof is on 
 fire !" Allan heard someone shout. 
 
 In a few minutes he had joined the growing 
 crowd around the burning building. It was Mr. 
 Daniels' house, and Allan saw the old man and 
 his wife emerge from the hall door as he ran up. 
 They were only half-dressed and much excited. 
 Mrs. Daniels was at once taken charge by some 
 women neighbors, who had been aroused by the 
 dreaded alarm, but the old man rushed in a frenzy 
 among the crowd, shouting, "Put it out, put it 
 out !" The clang of a bell was heard and the sharp 
 reports of galloping horses. The fire department 
 was coming at full speed. The fire was confined 
 to one side of the roof evidently started by defec- 
 tive electric light wiring. The glare of the burn- 
 ing shingles lit up the surrounding houses with a 
 weird gleam. The foaming steeds of the firemen 
 dashed up to the curb. Men leaped from the fire 
 wagon, and began uncoiling the hose with light- 
 ning-like rapidity, rushing with one end of it to 
 the stand-pipe at the street corner. Others took 
 the long ladders and placed them in position, so 
 that the fire-fighters could ascend to the roof, and 
 "battle with the enemy at close quarters. There 
 was a roofed upper porch on the side of the build- 
 ing remote from the flames, and the fire chief at
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 165 
 
 once directed a ladder to be placed there, as the 
 flat roof of the upper porch would give a safe van- 
 tage ground from which to drench the burning 
 roof. The ladder was hastily raised and a fireman, 
 who was no other than Louis Antoine, the Bohe- 
 mian helper in the paint shop, darted up, carrying 
 the nozzle of the hose. He was quickly followed 
 by the fire chief, who also caught the heavy rub- 
 ber hose, and was helping to carry it to the roof. 
 The weight of the hose on one side of the ladder 
 caused it to veer a little to one side. In their 
 haste the ladder had not been placed exactly 
 straight, and it began to slip. Louis Antoine was 
 already near the top of the ladder, and the fire 
 chief was halfway up, when the cry was raised, 
 "The ladder's falling, the ladder's falling!" 
 
 The women in the crowd shrieked in terror. 
 Allen was standing close to the house, beside Mr. 
 Daniels, when the cry was raised. He instinctive- 
 ly clutched the old man and drew back with all 
 speed. He was not a moment too soon. With a 
 crash the ladder fell, striking the very spot where 
 he and Mr. Daniels had stood, and carrying with 
 it the unfortunate Bohemian. The fire chief had 
 jumped and partly saved himself, but he lay groan- 
 ing and helpless on the ground. His leg was 
 broken. Allan and some others rushed forward to 
 pick up Antoine. He was unconscious. As he fell 
 the ladder had struck him, and he was evidently 
 very seriously injured. They carried him tenderly 
 across the street into a neighbor's house. On Al- 
 ran's immediate return to the fire he found all in 
 confusion. The fire was gaining. In a short time
 
 166 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 the whole house, and perhaps the whole block, 
 would be doomed. The accident to the fire chief 
 had demoralized the firemen, as their chief had 
 been in charge of every fire for over fifteen years, 
 and none knew just how to take the lead. To 
 make matters worse, old Mr. Daniels was running 
 among the people, frantically begging someone to 
 help save his home. Allan noticed Frank Antol ; n 
 the crowd. He called him to his side, and going 
 up to Mr. Daniels he said : "Mr. Daniels, here is 
 Frank Antol. He will take you to my house close 
 by. I will see this fire is put out at once. It is 
 too much for you to stay here. Go to my home 
 and rest." 
 
 The old man, weeping like a child, went help- 
 lessly down the street with young Antol toward 
 Allan's house. Meanwhile, the young minister as- 
 sumed control. While at college he had been fire 
 chief of the little hose company they had at the 
 school, and, while he had never superintended the 
 work of putting out an actual fire, he was familiar 
 with the handling of hose. 
 
 "Come, boys!" he shouted, in a tone of author- 
 ity. "Raise this ladder again, quick!" The lad- 
 der was soon again in position. "Now, two of you 
 men hold it, and one man follow me, and let us get 
 the hose up on top quickly or it will be too late." 
 The men hastened to obey, glad to find a leader 
 able to take charge. In a moment he and his 
 helper were safe on the top of the upper porch 
 roof. 
 
 "Turn on the water!" he shouted down. There 
 was a gurgling sound as the long hose twisted and
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 167 
 
 swirled like a living thing. Then came a loud re- 
 port, and a large stream of water gushed from the 
 nozzle and fell sizzling on the blazing roof. 
 "Train the other hose on the fire from the 
 ground!" Allan shouted again. Soon a second 
 stream was rising from the ground and falling like 
 a deluge of rain on the flames. It was not a mo- 
 ment too soon. The terrible roar, which fire has 
 when it gets the mastery, was beginning to awe 
 the onlookers, when Allan's prompt action saved 
 the situation. The two steady streams of water 
 played on the burning wood relentlessly, and the 
 demon of fire began to retreat. The bright flame 
 died out. The roar was stilled. The steady splash 
 of water became more and more distinct. In ten 
 minutes all danger was over. Allan stayed on the 
 roof until he had seen the last spark die out, and 
 even when he staggered down the ladder he took 
 no chances, but sent up a fresh man to keep a look- 
 out lest a hidden spark renew the flame. 
 
 "All out!" This glad cry, which signifies the 
 close of the battle between the firemen and the 
 destroying element, passed from mouth to mouth, 
 and the crowd began to disperse. When Allan 
 reached his home he found Mr. Daniels lying, ut- 
 terly exhausted, on the bed. Assisting him to re- 
 tire for the balance of the night, and assuring him 
 that all danger of fire was over and that his home 
 was saved, Allan turned the bed over to his visitor 
 and lay down himself on a couch in his study. He 
 was very tired and soon fell fast asleep. He was 
 awakened by Mr. Daniels coming into the study to 
 bid him good-by.
 
 168 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "I am going over to Mr. Wilson's for break- 
 fast," he said to the minister. "My wife went 
 there last night, and I want to hurry over and as- 
 sure her that I am all right. I want to thank 
 you, Mr. Rutledge, for what you did for me last 
 night." The old man was entirely calm again 
 after the excitement caused by the fire in his house. 
 "I have had hard thoughts of you, sir," he went 
 on, with the suspicion of a tear in his eye, "but I 
 want you to forgive me. Count me as your friend 
 after this Mr. Rutledge." 
 
 "It is all right, Mr. Daniels. No harm has been 
 done," replied Allan, giving the old man a hearty 
 handshake. "I hope you will find Mrs. Daniels all 
 right. I do not think the house has been badly 
 damaged." After a hasty breakfast Allan hurried 
 to the home where Louis Antoine was carried after 
 his accident. In the excitement of subduing the 
 flames he had almost forgotten the injured fire- 
 man. He found Doctor Lucas and Pat McGinnis 
 watching by Antoine's side. The grave look on 
 the doctor's face showed Allan that the unfortun- 
 ate man was seriously, if not fatally, hurt. 
 
 "How is he, Doctor?" he whispered. 
 
 "No hope," answered the physician. "It was a 
 terrible fall and the ladder struck him." 
 
 "Has he been conscious yet?" the minister asked. 
 
 "Not yet, but I am expecting him to arouse at 
 any time. I think he will regain consciousness 
 for a little while before the end comes, but it will 
 soon be all over with the brave fellow." 
 
 They waited quietly by the bedside in silence. 
 Antoine was breathing heavily, and shortly after
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 169 
 
 Allan's arrival he began to moan in his uncon- 
 scious sleep. 
 
 "He is going to wake up," said the doctor as the 
 injured man turned over, still moaning." 
 
 "Come on, come on, chief!" Antoine began to 
 struggle and shout out in a strange, husky voice 
 these words. 
 
 "That's what he was saying just as the ladder 
 fell," whispered Allan. 
 
 In a few moments Louis Antoine opened his 
 eyes and looked around in wonder. "Where am 
 I?" he asked. 
 
 "You are here with us," said the doctor gently. 
 "You had a bad fall at the fire last night." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the fireman; "I remember. The 
 ladder slipped. Was our chief hurt?" he asked. 
 
 "His leg was broken," answered the doctor; "but 
 he will be well again in a few weeks. How are 
 you feeling?" 
 
 "I feel strange here," said the Bohemian, lay- 
 ing his left hand over his heart. His right hand 
 was helpless. 
 
 "You fell just beside me, Mr. Antoine," said the 
 minister, coming up to the head of the bed, "but I 
 couldn't help you." 
 
 "I know you would have done it, if you could," 
 answered the other, as a look of agony crossed his 
 face, showing the watchers that the sufferings of 
 a broken body were beginning. 
 
 "Mr. Antoine," said Allan tenderly, "you are 
 .seriously hurt. Is there anything I can do for 
 you? Any message you want to send?" 
 
 "I have no relatives in this country," the Bohe-
 
 170 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 mian answered, "but I have a brother in Prague, 
 Bohemia. His name is Vaseck Antoine. Write 
 him. Tell him I became a Christian." 
 
 Antoine was a bachelor, and had lived with an- 
 other Bohemian family. The injured man soon 
 realized that he was fatally hurt. After several 
 awful spasms of pain a numbing sensation began 
 to creep over his body. 
 
 "Louis," said Pat McGinnis, coming forward, 
 "I'm sorry to see you suffering so." 
 
 The man's face lit up for a moment as he recog- 
 nized his work-fellow, and then another bolt of 
 pain shot through his poor, broken body. 
 
 "Does it hurt ye so bad?" asked the Irishman 
 tenderly. 
 
 "Ach, Pat," said the former infidel, "it is not the 
 pains of my body that trouble me now. I was 
 just thinking, as I saw you, of that day we fought 
 in the paint shop." 
 
 "Don't spake av' it, at all, at all," said Pat, wip- 
 ing his eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge," said Antoine faintly, "come 
 here. Allan sat down beside him. 
 
 "I want to thank you, sir, for leading me into 
 the light. Ach, but I used to live in darkness, 
 awful darkness." He paused, as mortal agony 
 again rent his frame." 
 
 "But, Mr. Rutledge, I am sore troubled just 
 now." 
 
 "Trust in your Saviour, Louis. He will carry 
 you safely." 
 
 "I know that, pastor. I am not doubting him 
 at all. But, ach, Pat will tell you how I once said
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 171 
 
 an awful word about my Saviour. I can't bear to 
 meet him when I think of it." 
 
 "Kape still, Louis," said his former antagonist. 
 "I knew as little about religion as ye at wan time." 
 
 Allan, of course, did not understand what the 
 conversation was about, but he knew the grace of 
 Jesus was sufficient. 
 
 "Don't worry about anything in your past life, 
 Louis," said the minister. "You remember what 
 God's Word says : 'If we confess our sins He is 
 faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to 
 cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' You have 
 shown us all that you are a true believer of the 
 Christ. 
 
 "I am so sorry I said it, but I did it in ignor- 
 ance," said the dying Bohemian. 
 
 Doctor Lucas felt his pulse. "He is getting 
 weaker," he whispered to Allan. "He will lapse 
 into a coma and never awake again on earth." 
 
 "Louis, you are not afraid to go where Jesus is, 
 are you ?" asked Allan, taking out his pocket Bible. 
 
 "No, no," said the poor man, "but I wanted to 
 live and work for him here. I have been such a 
 bad man." 
 
 "God knows best, Louis. You remember what 
 President McKinley said: 'It is God's way, not 
 ours. His will be done.' You have done a great 
 work for Jesus already among your fellow- 
 countrymen in Wellington." 
 
 f "Tell the boys at the shop good-by for me," said 
 Antoine, speaking to Pat McGinnis. "Tell them 
 I was ready and that I died a Christian."
 
 172 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "Louis, we can't let you go," said Pat, the tears 
 running down his cheek. 
 
 "Don't cry, Pat. I'm not afraid to go. I am 
 glad I was on the ladder and not one of the men 
 who has a wife and children. No one will miss 
 me." 
 
 "We'll all miss you, Louis," answered the kind- 
 hearted Irishman. 
 
 The change that precedes dissolution began to 
 spread over Antoine's countenance. Allan began 
 to read the wonderful words of life in John's gos- 
 pel : "Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe in 
 God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are 
 many mansions : if it were not so, I would have 
 told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And 
 if I go and prepare a place for you I will come 
 again, and receive you unto myself: that where I 
 am, there ye may be also." 
 
 "Precious Saviour," spoke the Bohemian, as 
 Allan had finished. These were his last words. 
 Unconsciousness came on again, and about noon 
 the spirit of Louis Antoine had fled. His fatal ac- 
 cident made a lasting impression on all the men 
 at the factory. Allan was asked to preach a 
 memorial sermon for him at some future time to 
 all the men. The firemen showed their apprecia- 
 tion of their brave comrade by sending a large 
 wreath of roses for the funeral. The service in 
 which the last respects of the living for this for- 
 eigner were shown was held in the church. The 
 firemen and the employees of Markley's factory 
 attended in a body. The entire city came to do 
 reverence to this humble hero, who had died doing
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE ITS 
 
 his duty. His well known conversion from infi- 
 delity to the faith of Christ gave a sense of reality 
 and fitness to the last obsequies. Allan sought to 
 turn their thoughts heavenward. The text of the 
 sermon was "Well done, good and faithful ser- 
 vant." As they went home from that funeral ser- 
 vice of Louis Antoine there was a fresh resolution 
 in many a heart to live more earnestly and faith- 
 fully. 
 
 AHan was elected an honorary member of the 
 Firemen's Association, and they arranged to attend 
 his church once every year as an organization. 
 This was the beginning of "Firemen's Day" in the 
 church calendar in Wellington.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 FREDERICK MARKLEY BEGINS TO REAP. 
 
 "I am going to ask him for $1,000 to-night, and 
 I will get it." 
 
 "And I must have $500 at once." 
 
 "He will be here soon. I told him to be 
 prompt," continued the first speaker. "I can't see 
 why he is so stingy. His father is as rich as a 
 Jew. If he doesn't promise to hand over the cash 
 I will say some things to-night that will make him 
 sit up and take notice." 
 
 This conversation took place one evening in the 
 back room of one of Wellington's law offices. 
 There was a man and a woman in the room, both 
 fashionably dressed. The woman wore a heavy 
 gold bracelet on her wrist, and had on her finger 
 a gold ring, in which blazed a large diamond. Her 
 age was about thirty, and, though decidedly hand- 
 some, there was a sensual look on her face, and a 
 bold expression that would repel those who love 
 modesty in women. 
 
 The man was a few years younger, not more 
 than twenty-six. He was rather a fine looking fel- 
 low, but he had a sharp, cunning look in his eyes, 
 which gave him a sinister appearance. As they 
 were speaking, a footstep was heard on the rear 
 stairway, and soon there was a knock at the door. 
 
 174
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 175 
 
 "Who's there?" asked the man in the room, 
 whose name was Jamison White. He was a young- 
 lawyer, and it was in the rear room of his law 
 office that this secret night meeting was held. 
 
 "Markley," said a subdued voice in the hallway. 
 
 White unlocked the door and Frederick Mark- 
 ley stepped inside. 
 
 "Good evening, Mrs. Frisbie," he said, with a 
 cold bow to the woman. 
 
 "How are you, Fred?" said the woman, rising 
 and putting out her hand. 
 
 Young Markley shook hands, but in no cordial 
 manner. 
 
 The woman's name was Mrs. Frisbie, and her 
 life was a sad commentary on the influence of both 
 the social and church life of a community when 
 religion is more a name than a reality. Mrs. Fris- 
 bie was the wife of a good, honest man, George 
 Frisbie, whom everyone in Wellington respected. 
 He was the manager of the office at Markley's 
 factory, and a trusted employee. As a consistent 
 Christian, he was one of the most faithful mem- 
 bers of the Wellington Church, but his wife was a 
 millstone around his neck. They had two chil- 
 dren, a son and a daughter, eight and ten years 
 of age, but in spite of this, Mrs. Frisbie had dis- 
 honored her home. 
 
 When the Frisbies came to Wellington several 
 years previous to this time, they were received 
 cordially into society, and at once took their places 
 in the Wellington Church. At first all went well, 
 and both of them were held in the highest respect, 
 but a sad change happened. Mr. Frisbie was often
 
 176 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 compelled to return to the office at night during 
 the busy season at the factory, and when he was 
 at home he preferred to remain with the children 
 rather than seek the pleasures of society. Accord- 
 ingly, his wife was in the habit of going out a good 
 deal without him to dances and social gatherings. 
 She also sang in the choir at the church, and at- 
 tended choir practise once a week. Her striking 
 beauty and dashing manner soon attracted the at- 
 tention of Frederick Markley, and he often es- 
 corted her home from the dances and choir prac- 
 tises. The result may be imagined. Mrs. Frisbie 
 lost interest in her husband and even in her chil- 
 dren, and was out so often in the evenings at vari- 
 ous gatherings that she began to have a "name" 
 among the observing. For the sake of Mr. Fris- 
 bie, with whom all sympathized, little was said 
 about her evident lapse, and she was even tolerated 
 by the best people in the community. 
 
 Her presence in the choir was a continual heart- 
 break to Dr. Anning, but the peace and harmony 
 of the church could not be sacrificed by making 
 any attempt to get rid of her. After Allan Rut- 
 ledge became minister and the entire atmosphere 
 of the church changed, Mrs. Frisbie quit the choir 
 of her own accord. She had an intense dislike for 
 the new minister, and was loudest in condemna- 
 tion of his act in "blackening the reputation of our 
 college," as she expressed it. 
 
 Jamison White, the young lawyer who was in 
 the office along with her that evening when young 
 Markley joined them, was one of Wellington's fast 
 set. He had a showy office and seemed to have
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 177 
 
 plenty of money, but his entire time was given to 
 social frivolities. People often wondered how his 
 law practice, which was almost nothing, could 
 bring him in an income sufficient for his lavish ex- 
 penditures. 
 
 After Frederick Markley joined them, White 
 carefully locked the door. He opened the conver- 
 sation by remarking: 
 
 "I am a little sleepy to-night. I was out at the 
 fire last night and lost nearly a whole night's sleep 
 over old Daniels' bonfire. I expect Rutledge 
 thinks he did a big thing at the fire," he added. 
 "The whole town is getting crazy after that fool 
 preacher. I came near jerking the hose last 
 night, and pulling him off the roof. I felt like do- 
 ing it." 
 
 "I wish you had," said Mrs. Frisbie, with a 
 frown. "I can't bear that man. I do not see 
 what our church wants with such a preacher." 
 
 "If they were all like you," said Markley, with 
 a sneer, "Rutledge could pack his trunk to-mor- 
 row, but I suppose the preacher thanks the stars 
 that there is only one Mrs. Frisbie a member of his 
 church." 
 
 "I hate him !" hissed the woman, but she flushed 
 as she noted the sneer in Markley's voice, for the 
 sneer was for her benefit. Mrs. Frisbie had had 
 one encounter with Allan Rutledge. It was dur- 
 ing the Gospel meetings, when Mrs. Frisbie went 
 to the minister about some "doubts" she had in 
 efcrence to the Christian religion. 
 
 "What do you make of the creation story in. 
 Genesis?" she had asked the minister.
 
 178 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Allan Rutledge knew well her reputation for a 
 fondness for the society of men to the neglect of 
 her husband and family, and when she asked him 
 this question one day he looked her straight in the 
 face and answered: 
 
 "Mrs. Frisbie, I see in the creation story that 
 God made one man for one woman, and I think 
 that is one of its most important lessons." 
 
 The false wife made no reply, but walked off in 
 high indignation, and thereafter her bitterness 
 against the new minister was only equaled by the 
 bitterness of Elder Markley and President Older. 
 
 "That Rutledge is a four-flusher," said White 
 sneeringly. "I see nothing in him at all. Look 
 out for your sister, Markley. Rutledge is acting 
 sweet toward her. I saw them together to-day out 
 near the house of that Irishman, Pat McGinnis." 
 
 Frederick Markley was not lost to all honor. His 
 sister was sacred in his eyes, and to hear White 
 mention her like this irritated him. 
 
 "Don't trouble about, my sister," he answered 
 hotly. "She seems to know a real rascal at sight." 
 And young Markley scowled at White. 
 
 White knew what he meant, for he had tried 
 himself to attract the attention of Grace Markley 
 some time before, but she had promptly spurned 
 him off in disgust. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Miss Markley is so good," sniffed Mrs. 
 Frisbie, with upturned nose. 
 
 "Shut up, you ," snapped out Markley, 
 
 turning toward her in a towering rage. 
 
 "Come, come, let us get down to business," said 
 White, drawing his chair near the table. "Mark-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 179 
 
 ley, I want another thousand from you by next 
 Saturday." 
 
 As he slowly uttered these words, Markley's 
 eyes lost their fire. His cheek grew pale. He 
 seemed to be trembling, as he answered : 
 
 "A thousand more, White? Why I cannot pos- 
 sibly do it now." 
 
 "You must !" said the other, and his teeth came 
 together like a steel trap. 
 
 Young Markley dropped his head in his hands. 
 He was a pitiable looking object. The life seemed 
 to have gone from his body, and he slouched, limp 
 and nerveless, in his chair. Turning to White, he 
 began, in a pleading voice: 
 
 "White, listen to reason. I have given you over 
 three thousand in the last twelve months. My 
 father is getting suspicious. I can't ask him for 
 any more just now. You must wait. I will pay 
 you the entire ten thousand, as I promised, but 
 you must wait." 
 
 "I can't wait," said the other. "I must have the 
 money this week. People don't wait on me." 
 
 "And I must have mine by to-morrow," inter- 
 jected Mrs. Frisbie. "I am going to Des Moines 
 this week for some jewelry I ordered, and I must 
 have the money." 
 
 Again Markley dropped his head. At last he 
 raised his head with a look of defiance. 
 
 "Is this what you wanted to see me about to- 
 night?" he inquired with an energy that startled 
 bpth of his companions. 
 
 "Yes, and we want a positive answer," replied 
 W T hite firmly.
 
 180 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "I'll give you a positive answer," responded 
 Markley, the color again mounting to his cheek. 
 "I can't do it, and I won't do it! You can do 
 your worst, but I say no !" 
 
 Markley's eyes were blazing as he shouted out 
 the last word. 
 
 "Keep quiet, keep quiet !" said White, in a harsh 
 whisper. "Someone may hear us. Don't yell like 
 a madman. Now, Markley," he went on, in a cold, 
 businesslike tone, "there is no need of a fuss. You 
 can get the money from the old man. all right. 
 You have often done it before. Remember, I have 
 only to whisper a few words to the sheriff and 
 you are looking at life through a hangman's 
 noose." 
 
 Again Markley's face paled. He sank back in his 
 chair with a groan, and covered his face with his 
 hands. ., 
 
 "Don't act foolish," said the other. "This is a 
 matter of business with me. I don't want to make 
 you trouble, but I want the money and must have 
 it." 
 
 While the two men were engaged in this con- 
 versation, Mrs. Frisbie had been watching Mark- 
 ley with interest. When he sank back, groaning, 
 in his chair, as though in inten c e pain, the woman 
 heart within her stirred in tenderness, in spite of 
 her degraded life, and she arose from her chair and 
 walked over behind him. 
 
 Throwing her arms around his neck she began, 
 in a pleading voice: 
 
 "Now, Fred, don't act so. You know your 
 father "
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 181 
 
 Before she could go further young Markley had 
 leaped to his feet ai^d brushed her off, exclaiming: 
 
 "Don't touch me, don't touch me! It is bad 
 enough to have to listen to you." 
 
 The woman's look of tenderness turned to a 
 glare of hatred and she slowly took her seat again. 
 
 "Well, Markley, what do you say?" White was 
 growing impatient. "Mrs. Frisbie's family," he 
 continued, with a contemptuous smirk at the 
 woman, "will be looking for her to get home from 
 the lodge." 
 
 Mr. Frisbie well knew his wife was frivolous 
 and foolish, and becoming more so each year, but 
 she had so far kept him in ignorance of her real life. 
 On occasions such as this, when she had engage- 
 ments of a compromising kind, she would tell him 
 she was going to a lodge meeting, or a party of 
 some kind. He had discovered accidentally two or 
 three times that she had lied to him about her 
 movements, but she always had some plausible 
 story which kept the unfortunate man in a kind of 
 ignorance, but he knew all was not well and his 
 home life was a blank. His only relief was found 
 in his little boy and girl, who had both a father's 
 and a mother's love in the tender affection he lav- 
 ished on them. 
 
 Recollections of the happy days of her previous 
 life sometimes came to the foolish woman, but she 
 drowned them in still greater excesses until her 
 complete downfall seemed imminent. On this 
 night White's sneering reference to her "family," 
 and the evident disgust of Markley toward her,
 
 182 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 caused her to see the tragedy of her life as she had 
 never realizd it before. 
 
 It is told of a native woman of India that she 
 could not be induced to wash her face, much to 
 the disgust of her mistress, who was a Christian 
 missionary. Finally, the mistress determined on 
 strategy. She took another more pliable native 
 servant, and had her face careft lly washed and her 
 hair combed and braided. Then she had the 
 filthy-faced native and her washed fellow-servant 
 stand together before a large mirror. 
 
 She called attention to the attractiveness of the 
 clean native's reflection in the mirror, and said to 
 the unwashed one : "That is your companion. She 
 is lovely because she is clean." Then she pointed 
 to the filthy-faced reflection, and, pointing ou . the 
 foul stains and the disheveled hair, she exclaimed, 
 in a tone of disgust: "That's you!" 
 
 It was a revelation to the unwashed Hindoo. 
 She realized for the first time her filthiness and 
 ran out of the room and all over the house, crying 
 out in a frenzy: "Wash me, wash me, wash me!" 
 
 So, as in a mirror, Mrs. Frisbie saw herself as 
 she once was, a good mother and loving wife and 
 beside that picture she saw herself as she now was, 
 a degraded and defiled, an untrusted and unloved 
 woman. The awful realization maddened her. 
 
 "Don't laugh at me, you thief!" she said to 
 White, with her eyes glittering in anger. "You 
 are worse than Frederick Markley and you deserve 
 the hangman's noose as much as he does, you 
 sneaking coward !" Markley and White both 
 stared uneasily at. their companion. "You blood-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 183 
 
 sucker," she went on to the astonished young law- 
 yer, "your name is White, but you are as black as 
 Satan. I know enough about you to send you to 
 the penitentiary. Didn't you stand up and help 
 deceive that young girl yourself, telling her you 
 were a justice of the peace? You are equally 
 guilty. Both of you are fit only for the gallows !" 
 And the infuriated woman, who had worked her- 
 self into a wild passion, looked like a tigress as she 
 poured out the vials of her wrath on the two 
 young men. 
 
 "I have no pity for you, Frederick Markley," 
 she went on, and Markley shuddered as she men- 
 tioned his name. "You spoiled my life and then 
 you threw me off for that Bohemian beauty. Poor 
 thing, I pitied her. I knew her fate. I wish I had 
 never seen this place. I was a good woman until 
 I came here, and met such creatures as you! If 
 there is a God in heaven he will punish both of 
 you yet, you scoundrels !" 
 
 "Mrs. Frisbie, Mrs. Frisbie, you forget your- 
 self," interrupted White. "Speak lower. Some- 
 one may hear you." 
 
 "I forget nothing," replied the unhappy woman. 
 "Ah, that will be my curse through life ! I will 
 never be able to forget. Once I was a good 
 woman," she added with breaking voice, and then 
 burst into tears and wept hysterically, rocking to 
 and fro in her chair. 
 
 "Emily." said young Markley, evident^ touched 
 by the woman's distress, "I will try to get you 
 money to-morrow. Don't take on so." 
 
 "Money, money !" exclaimed the woman, "that's
 
 184 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 all you have, sir, but I am through with you and 
 your filthy money. I don't want any more. I am 
 through. I am going back to my family to-night 
 and I will stay with them." 
 
 As she said this, Mrs. Frisbie began to pin on 
 her hat. 
 
 "Just one thing," she said, stopping as she was 
 walking toward the door. "If I ever hear that 
 either of you have said a single word against my 
 reputation I will shoot you dead. Remember * 
 From now on I am a woman again." 
 
 Her eyes were glittering like a basilisk's as she 
 opened the door, walked out, and closed it with a 
 pull behind her. 
 
 "The woman's going crazy, I believe," said 
 White, after her footsteps on the rear stairway had 
 died away. 
 
 "She's getting sense, I think," answered Mark- 
 ley gloomily. "Well, White," he went on, "I will 
 see if I can raise another thousand this w r eek, but 
 I swear to you it must be the last for several 
 months." 
 
 "I will try to be patient with you," responded 
 White, and both of the men were glad to close the 
 interview.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ELDER MARKLEY AND HIS SON HAVE AN 
 INTERVIEW. 
 
 The day following the secret night meeting in 
 Jamison White's law office Frederick Markley was 
 walking slowly to his father's factory. The elder 
 Markley spent several hours each day in his office 
 at the factory, as this was now his most important 
 and best paying business venture. The young 
 man' mind was in a tumult. On account of his 
 knowledge of some things in young Markley's life, 
 Jamison White had been collecting "hush money" 
 from him for over a year. This yoke of bondage 
 was becoming more and more galling to the self- 
 willed spendthrift, as his monthly allowance from 
 his father was now altogether too small to meet 
 his requirements, and he had to resort to various 
 tricks to satisfy the greedy appetite of White for 
 dollars. He had secured $3,000 from his father 
 on various pretenses, claiming he was making in- 
 vestments in Western land and mines, but the 
 shrewd elder Markley had become suspicious, and 
 when the son secured the last thousand there had 
 been quite a scene. 
 
 Frederick Markley well knew that a request for 
 still another thousand that day would arouse his 
 father's anger and lead, perhaps, to some unpleas- 
 
 185
 
 186 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ant questioning on the part of his parent. He hes- 
 itated several times and once he almost turned 
 back. 
 
 "I can't do" it!" he said to himself. "My father 
 declared he would put up with it no longer the 
 last time I asked him for money, and I know he 
 will be furious to-day. I can't do it ! I will tell 
 White so." Then he remembered the threat that 
 White had made the night before. "Curse the 
 scoundrel !" he exclaimed, gnashing his teeth. "I 
 am almost tempted to murder him. Mrs. Frisbie 
 was right when she called him a "sneaking thief." 
 
 At the recollection of Mrs. Frisbie his frown 
 darkened as he said aloud to himself: "What a 
 mess I have made of things. I half believe Rut- 
 ledge is right. This crooked life of mine is a 
 fright. I am getting sick and tired of it. 
 
 At last he made up his mind resolutely that he 
 must have the money, and, collecting his courage, 
 he entered the main office of the factory and 
 saluted the clerks. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Markley," said Mr. Frisbie 
 respectfully, utterly ignorant of the depression his 
 cordial greeting caused the young man. 
 
 "Not very well to-day, Frisbie," he answered. 
 "How is young Antol getting along?" 
 
 Frank Antol was now employed as Mr. Frisbie's 
 assistant in the office work. He had obtained this 
 responsible position, after his graduation from high 
 school, through the influence of Grace Markley. 
 
 "He is a splendid office man," responded Mr. 
 Frisbie with pride, "and I think if he keeps on, as
 
 ALLAN EUT LEDGE 187 
 
 he has begun, he will be able to run the office him- 
 self soon." 
 
 "That's good," said young Markley absent- 
 mindedly. "Is father in?" he added, motioning 
 toward the door of his father's private office. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Frank Antol. "He is all 
 alone in the office." 
 
 Frederick Markley knocked, and then opened 
 the door ana entered. During the next fifteen 
 minutes the clerks in the outer office could hear 
 occasionally loud talking between the father and 
 son, but none suspected the tragedy of the scene 
 that was enacted. 
 
 "Hello, father !" said the young man, siting down 
 in a chair near Elder Markley's desk. "How's 
 business?" 
 
 "It isn't helped on any by you, sir," replied the 
 father, evidently a little out of humor over some- 
 thing. 
 
 Young Markley was supposed to work in his 
 father's office, but he did less and less, until now 
 there was no real' responsibility on him at all, and 
 he often allowed a whole week to go past without 
 appearing at the office once. 
 
 As the two men sat there that morning, there 
 was a marked contrast between them. The 
 older man was stout, square shouldered, with a 
 strong determined face, the embodiment of will and 
 energy. The young man was stylishly dressed, 
 but his whole personality suggested lack of energy, 
 *nd his face revealed a lamentable deficiency in 
 will power and self-control. Indeed, his coun- 
 tenance had a haggard and dissipated look that
 
 188 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 angered his father that morning as he looked at 
 him. 
 
 "There does not seem to be much for me to do 
 in the office since Mr. Frisbie has been given an 
 assistant or I would be here more regularly," re- 
 sponded the young man, trying to say something 
 that would get his father into a better humor. 
 
 "You are of no use anywhere, sir," said his 
 father angrily. "I am getting disgusted with your 
 conduct lately." 
 
 "I am no worse than usual, sir," replied the son 
 with a little heat. "What's wrong now?" 
 
 "Well," replied the father slowly, " a number 
 of the young men around town have been settling 
 down to business, and giving up their foolish boy- 
 ish habits, but you go on worse than ever." 
 
 "Oh, you mean my old chums that have sided in 
 with Rutledge? Yes, they have quit, all right, but 
 you have never advised me to pay any attention 
 to anything that Rutledge says." 
 
 "I don't want you to be a goody-goody nobody, 
 sir, but you ought not to disgrace yourself. You 
 gave Rutledge an advantage over us out at the col- 
 lege. You ought to have been more careful. 
 
 "Why, I thought that the college squabble gave 
 you the only chance you had to kick the fellow out 
 of town," said the former choir leader in the Well- 
 ington Church. 
 
 "The fact that he was able to mention your 
 name in his letter to the newspaper has made -t 
 unpleasant for me. I would begin action for slan- 
 der against him, but the pesky fellow is such a
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 189 
 
 fighter I know it would only make matters worse," 
 responded the elder in the church. 
 
 "Yes, Rutledge would likely bring out the 
 truth," said young Markley with a wry face. 
 
 "What are you after this morning?" asked his 
 father, turning around to him. "I am busy and 
 have not time to spend discussing Rutledge." 
 
 "Father, I want another thousand dollars. I " 
 
 Before he could get another word elder Mark- 
 ley had jumped to his feet, exclaiming: 
 
 "You won't get it, sir! I am sick and tired of 
 your asking me for money. Here I have been 
 toiling and working like a slave all these years to 
 accumulate a little property, and you throw it 
 away like dirt. Not a penny, sir, not a penny!" 
 
 "But, father, I have another investment," in- 
 terrupted the son. 
 
 "Don't talk to me of investment. I know better. 
 What investment have you ever made? Show me 
 a single block of stock you have ever bought, or 
 the deed to a single acre of land. Your sister, 
 Grace, knows far more about business than you do. 
 She keeps an account of every dollar she spends. 
 Frank Antol, our new boy in the office, has learned 
 more about this business in a few weeks than you 
 learned in as many years. You must change your 
 ways, Frederick Markley, or I will cut you adrift." 
 
 "I would like to change my ways, but I am just 
 what you made me," answered the young man 
 bitterly. 
 
 j "Silence, sir!" shouted the thoroughly aroused 
 parent. "Don't blame your folly on me. I set 
 you a good example of diligence and respectability.
 
 190 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 I am the leading man in our community and 
 church. I had expected you to succeed me, Fred- 
 erick," he added in lower tones. "I am dis- 
 appointed in you." 
 
 "I am just what you made me, sir," persisted 
 the son. "You taught me to drink wine, to gam- 
 ble, to sneer at religion, to despise preachers, to 
 spend money, and I know myself I am nothing 
 but a failure." 
 
 "No such thing," sternly replied the elder Mark- 
 ley. "I taught you to drink a social glass like a 
 gentleman and play a respectable game of cards, 
 but I never taught you to disgrace yourself as you 
 are doing." 
 
 Young Markley felt there was no use in follow- 
 ing up this conversation, and he saw clearly that 
 he must resort to desperate measures if he suc- 
 ceeded in securing the money for which Jamison 
 White was hounding him. 
 
 "Father, give me one thousand this time and I 
 swear it is the last time I will ask anything above 
 my allowance." 
 
 The young man spoke in earnest, but he had 
 made the same promise on the last occasion. 
 
 "I will not!" snapped out his father. "If you 
 have any gambling debts to pay you can work and 
 earn the money. I tell you I am through uphold- 
 ing you in your follies." 
 
 "Father," said young Markley, with a danger- 
 ous gleam in his eye, "what would you give to see 
 Rutledge driven out of Wellington?" 
 
 As on a dark, cloudy day, when the sky lowers 
 and frowns upon man, suddenly the whole face of
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 191 
 
 nature is changed in a moment when the sun 
 emerges into a clear spot in the heavens and sends 
 its glad light with a rush over the entire landscape, 
 so the clouds and frowns left elder Markley's brow 
 at the suggestion of Allan Rutledge's probable ex- 
 pulsion from Wellington. He sat down and faced 
 his son again. 
 
 "What can you do to help us drive him out?" 
 he asked, with a manner which plainly said, "Per- 
 haps, after all, you can be of some use to me." 
 
 "I can help in keeping him here," responded 
 the young man, "and I will do it if you refuse to 
 give me the money I have asked." 
 
 Again, as when the sun hides itself once more 
 and the sky lowers darker than ever, so Elder 
 Markley's face clouded over with rage. 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" he demanded fiercely. 
 
 "I mean what I say. If you refuse to give me 
 a thousand dollars this morning I will attend the 
 church convention in Des Moines, and I will swear 
 that Rutledge was in the right. I will swear that 
 the students were being taught to gamble in Well- 
 ington College, and it was his exposure of it in 
 the newspapers that killed our gambling class. I 
 will make Rutledge a hero and I won't need to 
 perjure my soul in doing it, as you know well." 
 
 If a bombshell had exploded in his office, Elder 
 Markley could not have been more astounded. 
 Never before had he seen his son so wild, so des- 
 perate. Never before had he shown such con- 
 J^mpt for his father. Accustomed to having his 
 own way in everything, Markley's chief reason for 
 hating Allan Rutledge was that the new minister
 
 192 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 had a mind of his own and refused to submit to 
 one man's dictation. But to have his son rebel 
 against his authority in this way was a crushing 
 blow. 
 
 As Frederick Markley watched the effect of his 
 threat on his father, he almost repented making 
 it. The old man gasped and gagged. His breath 
 came in quick, short explosions. He seemed like 
 a man on the verge of apoplexy. The color left 
 his face. When he spoke his whole tone had 
 changed, and in a hollow voice he asked : 
 
 "Frederick, do you mean to tell me you could 
 think of a trick like that?" 
 
 The son was desperate. Jamison White was 
 hounding him to the verge of despair. Conscience, 
 hitherto a silent voice in his soul, was beginning 
 to wake up with upbraidings. He wanted a 
 thousand dollars from his father and he was des- 
 perate enough to have resorted to the highway- 
 man's method, if need be, to get it. He saw his 
 advantage over his father, and he went on in cool, 
 measured tones: 
 
 "I mean exactly what I say. Give me a check 
 for one thousand dollars, or I swear to God I will 
 give Rutledge a clean bill of health before all 
 Iowa !" 
 
 Without another word, the older man pulled out 
 a drawer in his desk and took out a blank check 
 book. So great was the silence in the room that 
 the scratch of the pen could be heard distinctly as 
 Elder Markley filled out the check for one thousand 
 dollars and signed it. Without saying a word or
 
 GIVE ME A THOUSAND DOLLARS OR I WILL MAKE 
 RUTLEDGE A HERO ! " Page IQ2.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 193 
 
 even looking in his face, he handed the check to 
 his son. 
 
 With a wild look of triumph in his eyes, young 
 Markley took the check in silence from his fath- 
 er's hand and walked out of the office. When he 
 had gone, elder Markley sat in a daze for a full 
 half hour. He was stunned and hardly able to 
 comprehend just what had happened. For the 
 first time in his life he was utterly unnerved. If 
 his son had held him up at the point of a revolver, 
 he could not have been more humiliated and 
 shocked. 
 
 After a while a feeling of loneliness and grief 
 came over him. "To think," he said to himself, 
 "of all that I have done for the boy, and then to 
 have him treat me like this. Frederick, Freder- 
 ick, you have ruined my life!" 
 
 For several days Mrs. Markley noticed her hus- 
 band's depression, but she imagined it was on ac- 
 count of some business reverse, and he did not 
 confide in her the cause of his melancholy.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 PLOTTING A MINISTER'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 After his conversation with President Older on 
 the Chautauqua grounds Allan Rutledge made no 
 further attempts to reconcile the alienated college 
 authorities. He went on with his work, quietly 
 and effectively, and sought to make permanent the 
 results of his Gospel meetings. In his preaching 
 he emphasized the practical side of the Christian 
 faith. With him religion was not a form, but a 
 power. He made the Bible a new book even to 
 many of the older Christians, and inculcated the 
 idea of its practical value in common life. 
 
 He had many gratifying signs of the depth of 
 the wave of religious zeal which had swept over 
 the community. Family worship began to be prac- 
 tised once more in many families and the home 
 life was sweetened and elevated through its in- 
 fluence. The recklessness of the young people 
 was checked. Doubtful amusements regarded as 
 dangerous to a consistent Christian life, were 
 abandoned and became unpopular in Wellington. 
 
 One of the teachers in the public schools told 
 him that since the religious awakening discipline 
 was enforced in the schoolroom with no difficulty 
 whatever whereas, previously, the inability to 
 
 194
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 195 
 
 keep order among the pupils had occasioned the 
 dismissal of several well trained educators. 
 
 But, as the time for the annual Church Conven- 
 tion drew near, Allan had evidence on every hand 
 that his enemies were going to make a most de- 
 termined effort to drive him from Wellington. 
 President Older had now become the open leader 
 of the war on the successful young minister. The 
 college president had gained over to his side the 
 ecclesiastical "machine" of the State, for "boss 
 rule" has cursed Church and State alike in free 
 America. 
 
 Not content with discrediting Allan among the 
 leaders of the Church in Iowa, President Older 
 sought to weaken his hands by raising up oppo- 
 sition in the Church throughout the country. 
 The worst blow Allan received was a letter, 
 which came from one of his old theological pro- 
 fessors in Boston. It was as follows: 
 
 "Boston, Mass., August 2, 190 . 
 "Rev. Allan Rutledge, Wellington, Iowa. 
 
 "Dear Sir: I am greatly grieved to hear that you 
 have shown such a lack of tact and judgment as 
 to attack one of our institutions in the West which 
 has large vested interests. Wherever our Church 
 has such vested interests any attack, such as you 
 have made on Wellington College, is very wrong, 
 as we must protect the property of the Church. 
 
 "I understand that your attack on the college 
 
 '"'has united the college forces in Wellington against 
 
 you. Since this is the case, I write to advise you 
 
 to resign at once, as we cannot afford, under any
 
 196 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 circumstances, to allow our vested interests to suf- 
 fer. Yours truly, Augustus Beard, D.D." 
 
 Allan read this letter to Deacon Stanford, and 
 found warm sympathy in the heart of the good 
 deacon. 
 
 "Think of it!" exclaimed the deacon in right- 
 eous indignation. "That theological professor 
 thinks more of 'vested interests' than he does of 
 the souls and lives of men. Such clergymen as 
 he betray the cause of our Saviour, just as Judas 
 did!" 
 
 "No, no," replied Allan. "Dr. Beard simply 
 does not understand the situation out here. The 
 East has often misunderstood the West and the 
 problems of this new country." 
 
 "Dr. Beard had a full knowledge of the situation, 
 I am sure," persisted the deacon. "The trouble is 
 that he is one of these men who think that dollars 
 are of more value than people, and yet he pretends 
 to be a follower of Jesus. He does not say a word 
 about the success of your work in the church." 
 
 Allan sighed and made no reply. He was, in- 
 deed, astonished to find so little sympathy in his 
 earnest work for righteousness. Many of his 
 brother ministers seemed glad of the opportunity 
 ~o overthrow him. He heard of a minister in a 
 neighboring town who had preached a sermon on 
 "False Evangelism," and who even went so far as 
 to say : 
 
 "There is that man, Rutledge, the most talked- 
 of man in Iowa at present. He will soon leave 
 Wellington and never be heard of again. We want
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 197 
 
 a quiet evangelism, which does not disturb the 
 peace and harmony of the Church." 
 
 This minister's name was Dr. Warren Miller. 
 He was the pastor of an important church and 
 was a close friend of President Older. 
 
 Not long after Frederick Markley had given his 
 father such a stunning blow in the interview, in 
 which the son compelled elder Markley, under 
 threats, to give him a thousand dollars, these two 
 influential leaders in the Church in Iowa met for 
 a conference. 
 
 It was almost time for the annual Church Con- 
 vention and they met to mature their plans. Dur- 
 ing their conversation President Older remarked: 
 
 "Something has come over Markley recently. 
 He seems to have lost interest in our efforts to rid 
 ourselves of this Rutledge. I asked him to come 
 with me to-day, but he refused." 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Dr. Miller, in alarm. 
 "Rutledge has not hypnotized him, too, has he? 
 Surely after slandering his son, as Rutledge did, 
 Mr. Markley will continue to fight him !" 
 
 "I certainly hope so," responded President 
 Older, "but something has made him lose interest 
 lately. He used to come and see me almost every 
 day, and he was intensely bitter against Rutledge, 
 but last Sunday he was out at church again." 
 
 "Was he actually at church?" exclaimed Dr. 
 Miller. "That is too bad. I am afraid some influ- 
 ences are at work which we must counteract." 
 Ah, be careful, Dr. Warren Miller! Influences 
 are at work, as powerful as Niagara and as con- 
 stant as gravitation, which neither you nor the
 
 198 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 strongest man on earth can counteract. The law 
 of the harvest is beginning to make itself felt in 
 Wellington. Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall 
 he also reap. For many years Elder Markley has 
 been sowing to the wind. He is now about to 
 reap the whirlwind. He has sown a selfish, self- 
 centered life. He is about to reap his awful har- 
 vest in accordance with the unchanging law of the 
 universe. 
 
 "My wife was at church last Sunday," continued 
 President Older, "and she said that elder Markley 
 listened most attentively to the sermon. Rutledge 
 was preaching on the Prodigal Son, and, once or 
 twice, she thought she saw Markley weeping. W"e 
 must do something, or I fear Rutledge will win 
 him over." 
 
 "I will write him a letter," said Dr. Miller. "I 
 think I can stir him up again. If we have his help 
 in the convention I am sure we can give Rutledge 
 what he deserves." 
 
 Accordingly, a day or two after this, Elder 
 Markley received the following letter from Dr. 
 Warren Miller: 
 
 "My Dear Markley: I was so sorry you could 
 not come with President Older to-day. We have 
 arranged all our plans to remove Rutledge from 
 Wellington by a vote of the Convention. We feel 
 it is due to you, as well as to the college, that 
 we disgrace him as far as we can, for he has 
 dragged your son's good name in the mire all 
 through the State by mentioning him in connec- 
 tion with his slanderous attack on Wellington 
 College. Be sure to be present at the Conven-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 199 
 
 tion, as we need your help. Rutledge is a clever 
 politician, and he may outwit us if we are not on 
 our guard. Yours cordially, 
 
 "Warren Miller, D.D." 
 
 Elder Markley read this letter with little inter- 
 est. He seemed to have lost his mental grip on 
 things. A shock to the mind and heart stuns a 
 man like a blow on the head. He had not spoken 
 half a dozen words to his son since that fatal 
 morning. Frederick Markley went around heed- 
 less and defiant, most of the time plainly under the 
 influence of liquor. But if elder Markley had 
 ceased, his active campaign on the minister others 
 were busy. 
 
 Deacon Stanford came to see Allan one morn- 
 ing in a state of high excitement. 
 
 "I have just heard, Mr. Rutledge," he ex- 
 claimed, with sparkling eye, "that President 
 Older, Dr. Miller, Dr. Oudrey and some other 
 prominent Iowa clergymen have it all arranged to 
 remove you from Wellington at the Convention 
 without so much as asking a vote from the congre- 
 gation. It is outrageous, sir ! These men may 
 call themselves ministers of Christ, but they act 
 like agents of the devil. No wonder preachers 
 are getting a bad name when a lot of them will 
 treat you as they do. I call it an outrage on com- 
 mon decency, to say nothing about Christianity," 
 and Deacon Stanford brought his hand down with 
 a bang on Allan's desk. 
 
 "Have you heard anything lately?" asked Allan 
 calmly. 
 
 "Yes, just this morning Mr. Daniels told me all
 
 200 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 about it. They think he is still your enemy, but 
 ever since the night of the fire he has been your 
 warmest friend. President Older is at the bottom 
 of it, though I blame Elder Markley too. Poor 
 Markley! something seems wrong with him. I 
 think he is worried over his son, Frederick. The 
 young man is going down hill fast this summer." 
 
 "What can we do?" asked Allan, with complete 
 composure. 
 
 "I know what I am going to do. I am going to 
 call on Markley to-morrow at his office and have 
 a square talk with him. Dr. Lucas and some of 
 us have decided these college fellows have gone as 
 far as we are going to let them." 
 
 "I am going to hold a memorial service for Louis 
 Antoine at Markley's factory to-morrow at noon," 
 responded Allan, "and I was going to invite you 
 to be present. The men" arranged it themselves. 
 They will meet outside in the shade of the trees. 
 Markley's men and the firemen, with their families, 
 will be present and I look for a good meeting. I 
 want you to come as a representative of Welling- 
 ton Church, and perhaps you can see Mr. Markley 
 afterward." 
 
 "Just the thing," replied the deacon. "Poor 
 Antoine! We miss him. He had become a great 
 lielp in the church among his own people, the Bo- 
 hemians. You know they are hard to reach, but 
 Antoine was getting them one by one." 
 
 "I will try to do justice to his memory," said 
 the minister. "Such men are heroes, as worthy 
 of praise as John Huss or Martin Luther. And 
 don't trouble about my enemies," added Allan.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 201 
 
 "It may be best for you to see Markley, but I am 
 sure the Convention will not blindly follow the 
 leadership of President Older in this matter. God 
 still has something to say in regard to the affairs 
 of his Church on earth." 
 
 "These men who are fighting you leave God 
 out altogether," responded the deacon, his indig- 
 nation rising again. "I don't wonder there are so 
 many infidels when preachers act as these men are 
 doing." 
 
 "It will come out all right, never fear," said 
 Allan confidently. "The Church is not perfect, 
 and I am beginning to see that some of the lead- 
 ers in the Church have strange ideas of right and 
 wrong, but God's Church will be purified and 
 God's work among men carried on in spite of the 
 presence of the modern Judas and Ananias. The 
 unhung Judas and the unexposed Ananias will soon 
 be brought to confusion. God has surely blessed 
 us in the Wellington Church, and we must not 
 grieve him by 'doubting his care and guidance." 
 
 His tone of assurance gave Deacon Stanford 
 new confidence and he answered earnestly: "Mr. 
 Rutledge, you are right. I am confident you will 
 win. However, I will see Markley to-morrow 
 after your memorial servrce." 
 
 When Deacon Stanford went away, Allan pon- 
 dered long and earnestly on the attitude of Presi- 
 dent Older and the other leading ministers toward 
 him. 
 
 ^'It is war to the knife, and knife to the hilt 
 with them, I very plainly see," he said to himself, 
 "but I am right, and if a man in the right is cast
 
 202 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 out, I will go gladly, for I prefer a prison with the 
 right rather than a palace with the wrong. I shall 
 talk plainly in the Convention, and if my fellow- 
 ministers stand up for the college, when the col- 
 lege is in the wrong, I am done with their fellow- 
 ship, for I will then know that the charges against 
 the Church, which we hear on every hand, are 
 true. I will know the Church is an effete institu- 
 tion, and I shall go outside the camp with Christ, 
 bearing his reproach." 
 
 Having thus resolved, Allan gave himself to the 
 preparation of his memorial address for the next 
 day. 
 
 The men in the paint shop had arranged for the 
 services. They were to be held on the large 
 vacant spot on the east side of the factory, where 
 there was good shade from a number of large oak 
 trees. The families of the men were to be present, 
 and a great crowd was expected. 
 
 "Poor Louis !" said Pat McGinnis in the paint 
 shop the day previous to this memorial service 
 just about the time Deacon Stanford and Allan 
 Rutledge were talking together. "Poor Louis ! he 
 well desarves the honor. His rivirince has asked 
 me to spake a word about his last farewell. I'll 
 try to do it, but I'm afeared I'll break down." 
 
 "Did you ask Mr. Markley and the men in the 
 office to be present?" asked Foreman McGregor. 
 
 "I did, begorra," replied the Irishman, "and they 
 tould me they would be there, shure The boss 
 said he was glad we were going to have such a 
 sarvice." 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge wants the men from the paint
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 203 
 
 shop to sit on the platform with him," went on 
 the foreman. 
 
 "That's all right," one of the men rejoined. 
 "None of them miss Antoine as we do." 
 
 And so this strange service was arranged for. 
 It meant more than appeared on the surface. It 
 meant that these humble foreign toilers in the fac- 
 tory had begun to appreciate their own worth. 
 When a Senator dies, especially if he dies in some 
 heroic way, his fellow-Senators do him honor in 
 a public manner. So these factory men, under the 
 inspiration of Allan Rutledge's teaching, had be- 
 gun to see the worth and grandeur of man as man, 
 and when a true man, like Louis Antoine, died as 
 a hero, doing his duty, the desire to honor his 
 memory was spontaneous. 
 
 Some of the supercilious in Wellington sniffed 
 at the idea of making so much ado over a "Bohe- 
 mian painter," but the majority of the people 
 looked with a new respect on these humble work- 
 ers, who showed their appreciation of genuine 
 worth when it appeared among themselves, with- 
 out any of the tinsel of earth. 
 
 The day of the memorial service was long re- 
 membered, for some startling results came from 
 the meeting.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 EVERY MAN'S SOUL A KINGDOM. 
 
 "Bhoys, he tould me to say good-by to ye, and 
 to say that "he was ready to go and that he died 
 a Christian." 
 
 There was a break in the voice of Pat McGinnis 
 as he delivered the last message of Louis Antoine 
 at the memorial service. The service was held in 
 the open air, on a green, shaded, open space be- 
 side the factory. It was a thrilling sight to see 
 the great crowd of toilers and their families, 
 fringed with a number of other citizens, gathered 
 together to do honor to the memory of a Bohe- 
 mian painter. 
 
 On the rude platform, along with the minister,. 
 Rev. Allan Rutledge, were the workmen from the 
 paint shop, including Steen, the converted Eng- 
 lishman, who had been given Antoine's place at 
 the request of Grace Markley. Most of the men 
 were in their rough, working clothes, but the fam- 
 ilies were dressed in their best fashion. 
 
 Among the audience Allan saw Elder Markley 
 and his daughter, Grace, Deacon Stanford and a 
 number of the members of the church. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Frisbie were seated a little to the left of the 
 platform, not far from the front. Allan noticed 
 
 204
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 205 
 
 them at once and he was touched with the mourn- 
 ful look on Mrs. Frisbie's face. She had attended 
 the church service on the previous Sabbath, and 
 had heard the sermon on the "Prodigal Son," 
 which had appealed to Elder Markley. That oft- 
 told story had also found a lodgment in her heart, 
 and Mr. Frisbie had strange feelings as he saw his 
 hitherto frivolous wife weeping during the sermon. 
 She had proposed attending the memorial service, 
 much to her husband's delight. 
 
 After Pat McGinnis had given Antoine's last 
 message to his fellow-workers, Allan asked the 
 audience to sing, and, leading them himself, they, 
 all joined in singing the hymn : 
 
 "Blest be the tie that binds 
 Our hearts in Christian love." 
 
 They sang it with a ring of sincerity in their 
 ^voices which amply atoned for any lack of musi- 
 cal culture. 
 
 The nature of the service, the strange surround- 
 ings, the influence of a meeting held in God's great 
 out-of-doors, all conspired to make the occasion 
 unusually impressive. 
 
 The minister had felt his responsibility and had 
 thoroughly prepared himself. If he had been in- 
 vited before our National Congress to deliver an 
 oration at a memorial service there, in honor of a 
 ' statesman of world-wide renown, he could not 
 lia-ye shown more respect for his audience, or pre- 
 pared more carefully his address. He began in 
 his usual quiet way, supplementing the few re-
 
 206 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 marks made by Pat McGinnis, and declaring that 
 he felt honored to be asked to speak on such an 
 occasion. 
 
 "We are here to do honor to a man," he 
 went on to say, while the people listened with rapt 
 attention, "who gave his life in devotion to his duty. 
 It was a part of the new life which Louis Antoine 
 had begun to live, for he joined the volunteer fire 
 department after his conversion. Often he told 
 me, with regret, of his old life, which he had lived 
 as a blasphemer and infidel, but he used to say, 
 with great pathos : 'I obtaind pardon because I did 
 it ignorantly in unbelief.' Our hero became the 
 true man he was when he first came to know the 
 Lord Jesus. You all know the change that passed 
 over his life. He was like an open book, known 
 and read of all men. He lived in the sunlight." 
 
 As Allan spoke in this way of their comrade the 
 men seemed to take on a new sense of dignity. 
 Amid intense stillness, the minister continued: "In 
 honoring true worth, wherever it is found, men 
 show themselves divine. When the apostles saw 
 through the poverty and humiliation that sur- 
 rounded the earthly life of our Lord Jesus, and 
 fastened their eyes in wonder and praise upon the 
 spotless character and noble soul of their Master, 
 they proved their own worthiness. In spite of the 
 contempt heaped upon their Lord by the learned 
 and great of that age, they bowed their hearts in 
 humble reverence before him. and the world has 
 since held these apostles in honor as first among 
 men. 
 
 "So to-day we reverence Louis Antoine. He
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 207 
 
 was a man. Nay, he was a king, a true king, for 
 every man's soul is a kingdom, and the man who 
 rules that kingdom well is a king, whether he is 
 crowned or uncrowned. Let the life and death of 
 Louis Antoine teach us all self-reverence. The 
 highest things in life are possible for every one of 
 you. You can all be kings and queens, and your 
 children can be princes and princesses. 
 
 "Oh/ that men and women knew their own 
 worth !" exclaimed the speaker, as his eye ran over 
 the crowd of artisans before him. "They would 
 hold themselves in reverence and would not sell 
 their souls so cheaply. Abraham Lincoln lives to- 
 day in the heart of humanity as worthy of all 
 honor because his soul was without price. He 
 could not be bought. All the pleasures, honors, 
 fame and riches of the world could not have pur- 
 chased his integrity. 
 
 "What a tragedy we see," he continued, "when 
 men and women despise their heavenly birthright 
 and sell out their souls for a mess of pottage. 
 When self-respect is gone, how fearful the sight, 
 whether the man is a crowned king, like Ahab, or 
 a jeweled queen, like Cleopatra." 
 
 As he uttered these words in deep earnestness 
 and sincerity, a stillness was over the crowd. The 
 sound of a passing wagon on a distant street was 
 distinctly audible. The eyes of all were fastened 
 on him, but amid the crowd of faces he could clear- 
 ly distinguish two, Mrs. Frisbie and Elder Mark- 
 ^ey. He could see they were listening with a 
 pathetic eagerness. 
 
 "I mourn to-day," the speaker concluded, "on
 
 208 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 my own account, for Antoine was a valued friend. 
 I loved him as a brother in Christ. I honored him 
 as a man with a passion for righteousness. I rev- 
 erenced him as a king, who ruled well the kingdom 
 of his own soul. Let us hold such men in rever- 
 ence. Let us keep their memory green. In do- 
 ing this we honor ourselves." 
 
 The people sat still for several moments after 
 he had ceased speaking and had closed the service. 
 Then they quietly began to disperse. The visitors 
 and the wives and children wended their ways to 
 their homes in silence. 
 
 In a few moments the factory whistle blew and 
 the men went back to work. But a close ob- 
 server would have seen a calmer, steadier look in 
 the men's eyes, a nobler bearing in their walk, and 
 more manliness in their whole carriage after the 
 unusual memorial service. 
 
 Elder Markley had gone at once to his office 
 when the services ended, and was sitting with his 
 head bowed on the desk when a knock came to the 
 door. 
 
 "Come in!" he said, rousing himself. 
 
 The door opened and Deacon Stanford entered. 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Markley?" he asked him in 
 greeting, as he advanced with outstretched hand. 
 "I must congratulate you on the fine body of 
 workmen that you have. That was a grand ser- 
 vice and I understand your men got it up them- 
 selves." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the other absent-mindedly, "my 
 men have given me very little trouble in the last 
 few months."
 
 ALLAH RUT LEDGE 209 
 
 "I think I know the reason," rejoined Deacon 
 Stanford, anxious to begin the conversation on the 
 topic which he had come to discuss. "The story of 
 Louis Antoine has been the story of many of your 
 men since Mr. Rutledge came to Wellington." 
 
 Elder Markley was silent. 
 
 "I called to see you to-day," went on the deacon, 
 plunging into the matter next his heart, "in regard 
 to this fight which President Older and some 
 others are making on our minister. Don't you 
 think it is high time that that thing was stopped?" 
 
 Still the elder was silent. 
 
 "I have heard that it is all arranged," continued 
 Deacon Stanford, with rising voice, "to have the 
 annual Convention remove Mr. Rutledge from our 
 church. Have you heard anything about it?" 
 
 Elder Markley roused himself. The old, bitter 
 sparkle came into his eye. His old nature began 
 to reassert itself. 
 
 "I don't think anyone can blame President Older 
 for opposing Rutledge," he said, with more spirit 
 than he had shown since his son's visit to him 
 several days before. 
 
 "Patience ceases to be a virtue, sir!" responded 
 the deacon. "I am entirely out of patience with 
 President Older in this matter. Has not Mr. Rut- 
 ledge brought a new life and a new spirit to our 
 community? Anyone can see it. Look at that 
 service we have just attended. Would such a 
 thing have been dreamed of a year ago?" 
 **Markley again lapsed into silence, and the dea- 
 con, with his blood stirred to righteous indigna- 
 tion, went on:
 
 210 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "There are scores of parents whose boys and 
 girls were in danger who are rejoicing to-day be- 
 cause we have a minister who boldly teaches God's 
 truth and condemns sin outright. Except your 
 own son, there is hardly one of our young men 
 but has turned over a new leaf and become a pride 
 to his parents. If you had acted differently 
 toward our new minister, I am sure Mr. Rutledge 
 could have influenced Frederick. I often saw him 
 much affected during the first few weeks that Mr. 
 Rutledge was with us. He is worse than ever 
 now, and you are to blame." 
 
 Deacon Stanford was not cruel, but he was 
 aroused that day, and he had no idea what a 
 wound he was making in Elder Markley's heart. 
 As the deacon finished Elder Markley turned 
 toward him, his face pale and full of pain and 
 grief. 
 
 "Deacon Stanford," he almost moaned, "I did 
 not think you were the man to mock a father who 
 well knows the faults of his son and regrets them 
 bitterly." 
 
 As he spoke Elder Markley put his face in his 
 hands, and his long, pent-up emotion gave way at 
 last in bitter tears. 
 
 "What's the matter, friend Markley?" said the 
 deacon, at length, in a sympathetic voice, putting 
 his hand on Markley's shoulder. 
 
 "My boy, my boy!" moaned the stricken parent. 
 
 "What has Frederick been doing now?" asked 
 Deacon Stanford, in alarm. 
 
 Unable longer to keep his grief and disappoint- 
 ment to himself, Elder Markley related to the dea-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 con his son's grievous act of rebellion, which had 
 culminated in an entire break between the two. 
 
 "I don't know what to do," he added pathetical- 
 ly. "He is entirely beyond my control. I never 
 expected a son of mine to turn out a wreck as he 
 has." 
 
 Elder Markley had had good New England 
 training. He was greedy, grasping and selfish, 
 but his personal habits had always been free from 
 any taint of viciousness, and he had prided him- 
 self on the respectability of his family. He had 
 suddenly awakened to find himself on the verge 
 of a precipice. He was not sorry for anything in 
 his own life and did not blame himself at all, but 
 he was mortified to the quick to see his son such 
 a scandalous failure in life. 
 
 "Markley," said his friend gravely, "you have 
 not given your son a fair chance. I remember 
 when I thought Frederick Markley was one of the 
 most promising boys in Wellington. You have 
 been too lax with him, and you have spoiled him 
 with overindulgence. Frederick is not naturally 
 vicious. He may yet be saved." 
 
 "I acknowledge," answered the humiliated 
 father, "I have been too generous in giving him 
 money to squander, but outside of that I have 
 trained him for a respectable life." 
 
 The deacon shook his head, but made no reply. 
 He did not want to add to Markley's grief, but in 
 ''his own mind he was convinced that Elder Mark- 
 ley was responsible for his son's failure to a very 
 large degree.
 
 212 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "You are not going to Des Moines, then?" said 
 Deacon Stanford, when he was about to leave. 
 
 "No," replied Elder Markley. "I have no heart 
 for anything. Perhaps Rutledge is the man for 
 this place after all, though I have had little use up 
 to this time for the man or his preaching. If he 
 could only help Frederick " And the father 
 again bowed his head in his hands. 
 
 "Friend Markley," said the kind-hearted deacon, 
 with a tear in his eye, "trust in God. I feel sure 
 Mr. Rutledge can reach Frederick since you have 
 ceased to oppose him. A boy with a sister like 
 Grace Markley cannot surely be b.eyond redemp- 
 tion." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Stanford, you have done me 
 good. Grace is a noble girl. I have never appre- 
 ciated her before. If in any way I can help Fred- 
 erick to be a man again I want to do it." 
 
 The men shook hands warmly, and Deacon Stan- 
 ford walked out of the office, assured that he could 
 now defeat any trick of President Older in the 
 Convention. 
 
 "Our church is now unanimous," he said to him- 
 self. "It is President Older who will leave Well- 
 ington, or I miss my guess." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in Mark- 
 ley's office, another tragic scene was being enacted 
 in one of the Wellington's homes. After he had 
 returned from the memorial service, Allan Rut- 
 ledge sat for a little while in meditation. He was 
 aroused by a loud knocking at the door, and, 
 hurrying . downstairs, he found Mr. Frisbie stand- 
 ing there in a state of great excitement.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 213 
 
 "Come to my house at once, Mr. Rutledge ! We 
 need you," he said, without an introductory word. 
 Allan at once got his hat and they walked rapidly 
 down the street in the direction of the Frisbie 
 home. 
 
 "What's wrong now, Mr. Frisbie?" he asked, 
 as they hurried along. 
 
 "I don't know," answered the man in great agi- 
 tation. "My wife was much affected during the 
 memorial service, but I did not think very much 
 about it. As soon as she got home she telephoned 
 for me. I went home from the office as last as I 
 could and found her crying and wringing her 
 hands. She asked me to take the children to a 
 neighbor's and get you at once. I can't under- 
 stand it." 
 
 Allan was silent. He suspected the cause of 
 Mrs. Frisbie's collapse, but he said nothing. When 
 they reached the home they found the unfortunate 
 woman rocking wildly in her chair, crying out 
 again and again : 
 
 "Why did I do it? Why did I do it?" 
 
 "Here is Mr. Rutledge," said her husband. 
 "Tell him what is wrong." 
 
 The woman stopped her rocking for an instant 
 and looked at the minister. Then she hid her face 
 in her hands and broke out in a wail of despair. 
 Allan's heart .was touched. Here was a real peni- 
 tent. 
 
 * "Mrs. Frisbie," he said gently, sitting down op- 
 posite her, "tell us what is on your mind." 
 
 "Oh, I can't ! I can't !" she cried, as in a frenzy. 
 
 "Don't be afraid," urged the minister. "We
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 both want to help you, but we can do nothing un- 
 less you tell us what is wrong." 
 
 The woman made no reply, except to moan. 
 
 "Come, Emily," said her husband kindly, "don't 
 be afraid to tell us anything. There is something 
 you ought to tell. Speak out. Anything you may 
 say to Mr. Rutledge and me now is sacred." 
 
 "Can you forgive me?" she cried. ''Oh, hus- 
 band, tell me, can you forgive me! Oh, sir," she 
 almost shrieked, addressing Mr. Rutledge, "will 
 God forgive me? Will he ever forgive?" 
 
 "God forgave David when he sinned," said the 
 minister, knowing well the cause of the awful bit- 
 terness in the woman's soul. "Jesus forgave the 
 woman who was a sinner. He will forgive you if 
 you ask him." 
 
 Mr. Frisbie tried to soothe and calm his wife. 
 
 "I have been forgiven myself," he said tenderly 
 to her. "I can forgive you if you have wronged 
 me." 
 
 Gradually the woman became calmer. Then 
 came her confession. She did not incriminate any 
 others, but she blamed the dance and the church 
 choir for her conduct. 
 
 "Before you came, Mr. Rutledge," she said, amid 
 sobs which shook her whole body, "that church 
 .choir was a school for sin. It was awful awful. 
 I could tell more, but I only confess my own sins." 
 
 "My God, are such things possible!" exclaimed 
 the minister, as he bowed his head in shame. 
 
 Poor Mr. Frisbie. As he realized the full mean- 
 ing of his wife's confession, he sank limp and help- 
 less into a chair and moaned as though stricken
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 215 
 
 with mortal agony. It was well that the minister 
 was present. 
 
 He spoke to both words of comfort and hope. 
 He told how the past was dead and the future was 
 theirs to make it a success. 
 
 "But I can't forget," moaned the still unhappy 
 woman. 
 
 "God will help you as the days go past. You 
 are not the first to sin. Trust God for the future," 
 said Allan encouragingly. 
 
 Before they left they all knelt in prayer, and 
 each of them prayed. 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Frisbie broke down and fin- 
 ished their prayers with sobs, but God heard the 
 cry of their hearts. 
 
 Allan Rutledge was the last to pray. He never 
 prayed so earnestly in all his life before. He 
 prayed that the sin might be forgiven and the 
 home purified and rededicated to Christ. He 
 prayed for the husband, wife and children, nam- 
 ing each of them in his fervent petition. He com- 
 mended them all to the good Father who receives 
 every returning wanderer back into his arms of 
 love. 
 
 Then he left them alone with God, to renew 
 theii vows to him and to each other.
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 A FISHING TRIP. 
 
 "I must have a day in God's great out-of-doors," 
 said Allan to himself a few days after the memor- 
 ial services at the Markley factory. 
 
 The annual Convention at Des Moines met the 
 following week and he wanted to be at his best 
 on that occasion. He well knew it would be the 
 crisis of his life. If the Convention removed him 
 from Wellington it would be a staggering blow to 
 his whole future. In the modern church those 
 who incur the enemity of the ruling churchmen 
 are not burned at the stake, as John Huss and 
 Hugh Latimer were. They are not even im- 
 prisoned, as such men were in the times of John 
 Bunyan and George Fox. 
 
 But that does not mean that modern churchmen 
 cannot inflict punishment. It was in the power 
 of that annual Convention to put a blighting 
 brand on Rev. Allan Rutledge, that only the Judg- 
 ment Day could wipe out, and Allan well knew 
 that the leaders of the ecclesiastical "machine" 
 were as anxious to brand him, as Latimer's ene- 
 mies were to burn the uncompromising English 
 preacher. The high pitch of excitement to which 
 almost every day he had been keyed since his re- 
 
 216
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 217 
 
 turn from the old farm was beginning to tell on 
 him. 
 
 "Fishing in an Iowa stream in the summer time 
 is a huge joke," he said to himself aloud, "but a 
 fishing trip will be an excuse for me to get into the 
 country for a long walk." 
 
 Accordingly, he took his fishing outfit and 
 started down the railroad track to Elm Creek, a 
 stream that flowed through a beautiful wooded 
 valley, about four miles south of Wellington. He 
 was dressed in a light outing suit, and in spite of 
 the warmth of that August morning, he was soon 
 a mile out of the city. Here he entered a thick 
 grove, through which the railroad wound with two 
 or three sharp curves. The longest of these curves 
 was called the "bend" by the natives. As Allan 
 neared his "bend," he noticed a figure ahead of 
 him. It was a man walking up the track slowly 
 toward him, with his head bowed and an air of 
 dejection in his every movement. Allan startsd 
 as he recognized Frederick Markley. With low- 
 ered head, deep in thought the former choir leader 
 of the Wellington Church ambled slowly along so 
 preoccupied that he did not hear Allan's footsteps 
 until the minister was almost upon him. 
 
 Allan regarded the young man closely as he 
 approached him. He had not met him since the 
 eventful night at Wellington College and he was 
 surprised to note the changes in him since that 
 time. His face was pale, haggard and drawn, 
 ^lis entire mien was dejected, utterly unlike the 
 bold Frederick Markley he had met at the station 
 when he first arrived in Wellington less than a
 
 218 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 year before. The minister's heart smote him. 
 Perhaps he had been too severe. This young man 
 was a brother to Grace Markley, and he plainly 
 needed help. Allan decided to meet the young 
 man in the friendliest way. 
 
 "Hello !" he said frankly, as young Markley at 
 last heard his footfall and looked up with a quick, 
 startled, frightened glance. "A fine morning, Mr. 
 Markley," the minister continued. "I just had to 
 get some country air to-day, and I am going on a 
 fishing expedition to Elm Creek." 
 
 But the blood-shot eyes of Frederick Markley 
 gave no response to the minister's cordial greet- 
 ing. Allan could see that the young man was 
 partly under the influence of liquor. 
 
 "Rutledge," he replied, with an unsteady glare 
 in his eyes, "I have not met you since that night 
 at the college. I want to settle that matter. I 
 challenge you to a duel, sir." 
 
 "Forgive me, Mr. Markley if I acted rudely that 
 night. I was excited," answered the minister, 
 speaking with great earnestness. "I also wanted 
 to see you about mentioning your name in my 
 article in the 'Gazette.' I have already told your 
 sister, as you know, that I regretted it," Allan 
 went on. "I was too hasty, but, Mr. Markley, you 
 know we all make mistakes. I want to be your 
 friend." 
 
 The minister's reply was so unexpecetd that it 
 almost dazed young Markley for a moment. He 
 made no reply, but stared in astonishment at 
 Allan. 
 
 "I mean what I say," he continued. "I am in
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 219 
 
 Wellington to help everyone who needs any help 
 I can give, and I think I can be of service to you, 
 if you will only let me." 
 
 His kind tone made an impression. Just before 
 they met Frederick Markley had been cursing his 
 fate that he was so friendless. Even his father had 
 apparently cast him off. To hear the man whom 
 he had looked upon as his bitter enemy speak as 
 Allan Rutledge had spoken unmanned him. The 
 depths of his nature were broken up. 
 
 "Sir," he said to the minister, with a terrible 
 earnestness that Allan never forgot, "I never had 
 a chance in life. I was brought up to have my 
 own way in everything and taught by my own 
 father to drink. His money has ruined me. I 
 once believed* as my sister does, but now all is 
 gone." 
 
 There was a hopelessness in his voice that was 
 pathetic. Allan's heart gave a bound. Out of 
 hopelessness like this comes the victory of faith. 
 Perhaps he could win a new convert to the Chris- 
 tian faith, and that convert Grace's brother. 
 
 "Frederick," he began, in a kind, sympathetic 
 voice, laying his hand on his shoulder, "I am much 
 interested in you. You could be a power for good 
 in Wellington, just as your sister is, if you will 
 accept your sister's faith and begin to lead a Chris- 
 tian life. If you do this your influence will be tre- 
 mendous. Can't you leave sin and live for God?" 
 
 The young man hesitated. Allan saw that he 
 was trembling like a leaf. The destiny of his soul 
 seemed to hang in the balance. 
 
 "Decide aright. There is only one way for a
 
 220 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 man to live," persisted the minister, feeling that 
 Frederick Markley's salvation was at hand. 
 
 "It is too late, too late!" at length he answered 
 in a despairing tone. 
 
 "It is never too late," said the minister earnestly. 
 "The past can be blotted out." 
 
 The young man looked around him with a look 
 of agony, as he exclaimed: "My past cannot be 
 blotted out! It is too late, too late!" 
 
 With these words young Markley turned, and 
 walked rapidly up the track toward Wellington. 
 
 Allan's first impulse was to follow him, but he 
 was assured that reflection would lead the now 
 penitent man into the truth, and he determined to 
 see him again as soon as he could. Little did he 
 dream under what circumstances he would con- 
 front Frederick Markley again. 
 
 By the time he reached Elm Creek, Allan was 
 glad to seek the shade of a friendly elm and rest 
 under its plumelike foliage. Arranging his fishing 
 tackle, he began his sport as a disciple of Isaak 
 Walton and Henry van Dyke. But fishing at that 
 season in an Iowa stream was what Allan called 
 it- 1 a "joke." It is useless to try the fly, on ac- 
 count of the muddy bottoms, and the fish seem 
 to have ample food supply from the rich river 
 banks without troubling a fisherman's dangerous 
 bait. Allan was glad to hear someone coming up 
 the bank of the creek and he was anticipating a 
 pleasant visit with some rustic, when the brush' 
 parted and Dr. Lucas stood before him. 
 
 "You, doctor!" exclaimed Allan. "I thought I
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 221 
 
 was going to see a horny-handed son of toil and 
 here it is a truant physician." 
 
 "Glad to meet a truant preacher this morning, 
 I assure you," responded the doctor heartily. "I 
 just couldn't keep up the farce of pretending to 
 fish any longer and I was looking for some excite- 
 ment. How I wish we had a mountain stream 
 within walking distance of Wellington. Wouldn't 
 this be an ideal country if we had?" 
 
 "Let us sit down, doctor, and have a chat. This 
 is a delightful spot. How healing nature is ! 
 Your pharmacopoeia is an impertinence compared 
 with a day on Elm Creek." 
 
 "I know it, I know it !" laughed the doctor. "1 
 never take my own medicine. I get out my fish- 
 ing rod and hike down here when I need some re- 
 cuperation." 
 
 "Aren't you afraid to leave your patients lest 
 they get better?" said Allan, with a smile. 
 
 "Patients !" exclaimed the doctor. "Where are 
 my patients? This Iowa climate is so healthy in 
 the summer time that all we doctors have to do is 
 to sit in our offices and twirl our thumbs. It is 
 my worst objection to Iowa." 
 
 "That is bad for the doctors, isn't it?" respond- 
 ed Allan. 
 
 "If it were not for an occasional wet spring, we 
 doctors are a superfluity out here most of the 
 time," went on Dr. Lucas. 
 
 "When we need you, we want you right quick, 
 however, so be patient, dear doctor and we will be 
 your patients as often as we can't help it." 
 
 "I am glad to see you so strong and well again,
 
 222 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Mr. Rutledge," said the doctor in a more serious 
 tone. "There was a while last spring when I 
 thought that your trouble with the college was 
 going to get on your nerves and make a wreck of 
 you." 
 
 "My visit to the old farm made a man of me 
 again," said Allan. 
 
 "Do you know what I think of that whole col- 
 lege affair?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "What's on your mind?" rejoined the minister. 
 
 "I think that President Older and those other 
 fellows that are hounding you are in pretty poor 
 business. They are jealous of your success and 
 their only desire is to humiliate you. They care 
 nothing about the real prosperity of either our 
 church or college. President Older's administra- 
 tion at the college has been a flat failure. They 
 are like dogs in a manger. If they cannot do 
 something themselves, they are determined that 
 no one else shall." 
 
 "Don't you think that that is rather a severe 
 diagnosis?" said Allan, smiling. 
 
 "No, sir! Those men are of small caliber and 
 they have the big head. Men, as well as horses, 
 get that disease. That is our great trouble with 
 the Church in America to-day! Often these petty 
 ecclesiastical politicians get into places of influ- 
 ence and they try to hold their power by any and 
 every means. I have watched the thing for a good 
 many years. It is disgusting to a man who 
 knows what real Christian leadership ought to be. 
 Instead of being eager to deny themselves for the 
 sake of the kingdom of God on earth, as Paul was,
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 223 
 
 these fellows are as ambitious for personal honor 
 and glory as Pilate, and, like Pilate, they often 
 crucify Christ rather than endanger in any way 
 their own prospects for worldly glory." 
 
 Allan was silent, finding nothing to say in oppo- 
 sition to the doctor's argument. Judged by the 
 standards of the New Testament, President Older, 
 Dr. Warren Miller and his other avowed minis- 
 terial enemies were much more Pilatelike than 
 Christlike. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the two friends walked 
 home along the railroad track. When they came 
 to the "bend," where Allan and young Markley 
 had met in the morning, the minister referred to 
 the incident and told the doctor of the conversa- 
 tion he had with Elder Markley's son. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said Allan. "I feel sorry for 
 him. His feet are slipping and he has begun to 
 realize it." 
 
 "I am sorry for him, too," said the doctor. "I 
 blame Elder Markley more than I do the boy. I 
 well remember Fred as a little fellow. I thought 
 he was going to become a fine man, but he has had 
 no chance. Markley is like a lot of other parents 
 these days. He has been so busy getting money 
 that he has had no time for anything else, and 
 now he is beginning to see how his money is not 
 much comfort with a son like Frederick. The old 
 man is all broken up lately, and I believe he ias 
 begun to realize his son's condition." 
 
 "It is too bad!" commented the minister. 
 
 Just then the doctor stopped. Taking out his 
 handkerchief, he mopped his brow, and, pointing
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 to the bank along the track, he said: "There is 
 where poor Viola Antol committed suicide. It is 
 just a little over a year ago since it happened. It 
 was the shock of her death that killed Dr. Anning. 
 He was never the same man after her funeral. It 
 was the saddest thing I ever knew. I could as 
 soon have believed that Dr. Anning himself would 
 have fallen away as that Viola would have gone 
 astray." 
 
 "Some seem to doubt if it was really suicide,' 
 after all," said Allan. 
 
 "Yes, I remember there was some gossip at the 
 time, but there could be no doubt. It was her 
 father's gun which was found by her side." 
 
 There was no more mention of the unfortunate 
 Bohemian girl, but Allan felt in his soul that the 
 tragedy of her death was not yet ended. 
 
 "Mr. Rutledge," went on the doctor, as they left 
 the fatal "bend," "I want to assure you of the 
 reality of the religious revival which you have 
 brought to Wellington. A doctor always knows 
 the real life of any community, and I can bear 
 witness that Wellington is really transformed. 
 The social conditions here had become shocking, 
 but it is altogether different now." 
 
 "I am truly glad," responded the minister with 
 a suspicion of moisture in his eyes, "if I have been 
 of any service to this community. I have suffered 
 sc.-iething in Wellington, but that is nothing if 
 rea- good. has been accomplished." 
 
 The next week Allan Rutledge went to the an- 
 nual convention at Des Moines. This conven- 
 tion was controlled by men who despised him as
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 225 
 
 a "religious enthusiast," while they viewed with 
 bitter jealousy his remarkable success as a minis- 
 ter of the Gospel. 
 
 Allan Rutledge and the ecclesiastical "machine" 
 of Iowa were to meet in mortal combat. Which 
 would be the victor? The conflict seemed as un- 
 equal as the long remembered struggle between 
 David and Goliath, and many of God's servants in 
 Iowa trembled for the young Wellington pastor, 
 just as many a godly Israelite trembled then for 
 the youthful shepherd of Bethlehem,
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 
 
 What is daintier than a maiden's room? The 
 whole scene is one of delicacy, beauty and grace. 
 A young man's room is as different from a girl's 
 as a blustering March day from a zephyr-caressed 
 evening in June. 
 
 Miss Mabel Grayson sat in her own room one 
 morning amid the charming surroundings of such 
 a retreat, her own loveliness enhanced by her ex- 
 quisite environments. But a look of perplexity 
 was on her fair face, and her head rested on her 
 hand. She had just read a letter from Grace 
 Markley. It was not as long as the epistle she 
 had received some time before, telling of the for- 
 tunes of Allan Rutledge. Nor did this letter have 
 very much to say directly about" the young Well- 
 ington minister. But a sentence or two in it made 
 a queer sensation in Mabel Grayson's heart. 
 
 "Oh, Mabel," the letter had said, in part, "I 
 am so happy to-day. This morning I answered 
 the most important question a woman can answer. 
 I want to tell you all about it, but I cannot write. 
 Come and see me soon." 
 
 It was these words that made Mabel's heart feel 
 like lead in a moment. Of course, she had ex- 
 
 226
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 pected it. Even during the delightful visit with 
 Allan Rutledge on the Des Moines River, Mabel 
 never allowed herself to forget that Grace Markley 
 and Allan were close friends, and that Grace al- 
 ready looked on Allan as something more than a 
 mere friend. Allan's trouble had aroused in her 
 the mother-heart, an element in every woman's 
 nature, and her desire fa see him throw off every 
 care during his vacation led her to a freedom in 
 his company that otherwise she would not have 
 enjoyed during those July days in the country. 
 
 Since those eventful days at the "camp," Mabel 
 had resumed her correspondence with Allan, but 
 in a more reserved way than before, which reserve 
 he had noticed and wondered at. Mabel, for some 
 reason, disliked to write frankly to Grace Markley 
 about her relationship to the young minister, and 
 her letters to her Wellington cousin were not as 
 frank and cordial as they had been. Utterly ig- 
 norant of Mabel's feelings, Grace wrote freely 
 about Allan, and, as they were much associated in 
 charitable work of various kinds, Mabel was cer- 
 tain that their companionship was constant, and 
 that Grace had gained completely the heart of the 
 man she referred to so often in her letters. 
 
 This letter which Mabel Grayson held in her 
 hand on this particular morning was the announce- 
 ment at last that Grace and Allan were engaged. 
 So Mabel Grayson thought. But plainly it was 
 ^till a private engagement, as Grace did not even 
 wish to write about it, but merely hinted at the 
 all-important event. Mabel Grayson felt that the 
 confidence was sacred and she must not say any-
 
 228 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 thing about it until Grace had given her full per- 
 mission. 
 
 "Oh, I see now what he meant!" said Mabel to 
 herself, as she picked up another letter which she 
 had also received that morning from Wellington, 
 and which, to her astonishment, when she read it, 
 began, "My Dearest Mabel." The three last let- 
 ters of the middle word were used in this letter 
 for the first time by the young minister in ad- 
 dressing the daughter of Judge Grayson. When 
 she had read this tender word, raised by him to 
 the superlative power for the first time in writing 
 to her, she had blushed and her heart had throbbed 
 so violently that she had to labor to get her breath. 
 
 "I understand it now," she went on, speaking 
 aloud, although there was no one to hear. "He 
 thinks I am to be his cousin now and so he calls 
 me 'Dearest.' He will soon write 'Dearest Cou- 
 sin,' I suppose," and as she spoke the color left 
 her face. 
 
 "Why should I care?" at last she exclaimed. "I 
 must write to-day and congratulate my cousin. I 
 am sure she will be happy as Allan Rutledge's 
 wife." 
 
 Accordingly, she wrote an answer to Grace, 
 which surprised that young lady very much. "I 
 congratulate you on your engagement," Mabel 
 wrote. "I am sure you will be happy as his wife." 
 
 "How did she know whom I promised to 
 marry?" said Grace to herself, in astonishment, as 
 she read the letter, but thinking that perhaps in 
 some way Mabel had found out her secret she 
 thanked her cousin for her kind w r ishes.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 229 
 
 But Mabel Grayson was miserable. Her father 
 could notice a lull in her gay laughter, and he was 
 fearful she was not well. He found her one day 
 in his library, with a book on her lap and her hands 
 over her face, weeping silently. 
 
 "What's the matter, my child?" he asked gently. 
 "What has happened to you lately? Why are you 
 crying?" 
 
 "I was reading this book, 'The Story of Ann 
 Rutledge/ " she replied, in some confusion. "I 
 got it at the bookstore yesterday, and poor Ann's 
 sad fate made me weep. Did you ever read the 
 story, father?" she asked, so pathetically that her 
 father looked at her earnestly. 
 
 "I never read much about it," answered the 
 Judge, "but I remember there was something 
 about a love affair between Abraham Lincoln and 
 some such person when Lincoln was a young 
 man." 
 
 "Yes," said his daughter. "In this book :t tells 
 the whole story. Poor Ann died of a broken 
 heart. She was Allan Rutledge's great-aunt. Did 
 I ever tell you?" 
 
 "No," responded the Judge, in surprise. "Is that 
 so? I am more interested than ever in that young 
 man. His case conies up at. the Convention which 
 meets to-morrow. I understand his enemies have 
 full confidence that they can drive him out of 
 Wellington." 
 
 ^ "Drive him out of Wellington !" said Mabel. 
 "What do you mean, papa?" 
 
 "Well, his attack on the college in the news- 
 papers has given some of his jealous fellow-minis-
 
 230 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ters an opportunity, as they think, to humiliate 
 him, and they are going to make the most of it." 
 
 Mabel Grayson dried her tears. 
 
 "Are any of our ministers so contemptible?" she 
 asked her father, sitting up straight and looking 
 him in the face. 
 
 "My daughter," answered the Judge gravely, "I 
 desire you always to reverence the ministry of the 
 Gospel, which is one of God's best gifts to his 
 Church. True ministers devote themselves wholly 
 to God's work in the spirit of their Master, and 
 seek each other's honor rather than their own. 
 But we cannot deny that self-seeking, worldly- 
 minded men have intruded themselves into the 
 ranks of the ministry, and I regret to say that 
 present-day circumstances in this new Western 
 country give such men an opportunity to domineer 
 often over the faithful servants of Christ in the 
 Church. But the power of such false ministers in 
 Iowa will be broken in this coming convention, or 
 I have not read aright the signs of the times. 
 Allan Rutledge is destined to do a great work for 
 the ministry of our whole State, as well as revive 
 the Wellington Church and purify the college 
 there." 
 
 "What will he do?" asked Mabel, with wide open 
 eyes. 
 
 "He will expose the spirit of these men who are 
 at present controlling the Church in this State, and 
 when the rank and file of our faithful Iowa min- 
 isters and Christian workers see what kind of men 
 President Older, Dr. Warren Miller and Mr. Rut- 
 ledge's other enemies are they will put them aside
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 231 
 
 at once and choose leaders of the Allan Rutledge 
 stamp." 
 
 "I certainly hope so," said the Judge's daughter. 
 
 "What have you decided to do about the Euro- 
 pean trip," continued the Judge, patting the girl's 
 fair cheek. "You are losing some of your blushes. 
 I think an ocean voyage would do you good." 
 
 "When did you say the party sails from New 
 York?" asked Mabel. 
 
 "They sail on the S. S. Mauretania November 5. 
 If you and I expect to go we must decide at once." 
 
 "I think we had better go," said the girl hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 "I am glad you have decided, Mabel," said her 
 father, with enthusiasm. "It is a delightful party 
 who are going, and we both need a rest and 
 change. The voyage will remind me of happy 
 days gone forever," continued the Judge, with a 
 far-away look in his eyes. "Your mother and I 
 spent our honeymoon in Europe, but I feel that a 
 trip back to those happy scenes will do me good. 
 It is so lonely here since mother left us," and 
 Judge Grayson's eyes were moist. 
 
 "All right, papa," responded his daughter. "I 
 will be ready. It is over two months before sail- 
 ing time, which gives us plenty of time for our 
 preparations." 
 
 This European trip, to which Judge Grayson re- 
 ferred, was a prolonged tour with a party of 
 friends. Mabel Grayson at first had no desire to 
 go, but after receiving Grace Markley's letter, she 
 had changed her mind, and she hoped then an
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ocean voyage would rid her heart of its rebellious 
 mood. 
 
 Alas for her, no medicine, no travel, no cure has 
 yet been found that can quiet the unrest of a 
 woman's heart when it feels the pain which Mabel 
 Grayson had begun to experience, and which Ann 
 Rutledge had so bitterly known ! 
 
 When Grace Markley heard of her cousin's plans 
 she was astonished, and was yet more surprised 
 when Mabel refused to visit her in Wellington be- 
 fore starting on her long journey. 
 
 "Come and see me," she had written to Mabel, 
 "before you go. I want to talk over my life plans 
 with you. I have always hoped to devote my life 
 entirely to Christian work, but I sometimes think 
 I am taking a step in the dark. I have said noth- 
 ing yet to my father, though mother knows it." 
 
 "I cannot go to see her," said Mabel bitterly, 
 wiping a tear from her eyes as she read this letter. 
 "I could not help showing my own unhappiness. I 
 must conquer this foolish fancy. Oh, I wish our 
 feelings were more directly under our own con- 
 trol !" and the girl gave way to a long outburst of 
 weeping. 
 
 "I am sorry," she wrote back to Grace Markley, 
 "that I cannot arrange to go to Wellington. I 
 have two or three other places that I have prom- 
 ised to visit before going East, and our boat sails 
 from New York on November 5th, so you see I 
 have not much time. I expect I shall find you all 
 settled in your new home when I return." 
 
 "What can she mean?" said Grace, as she read
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 233 
 
 this. " 'Settled in my new home.' I wonder who 
 has told her everything." 
 
 But the result was that Mabel Grayson and 
 Grace Markley did not see each other for a long, 
 long time after this, and during this interval the 
 world changed for each so much that it was like a 
 different place when they met each other again. 
 
 It was strange also how Mabel Grayson and 
 Allan Rutledge misunderstood each other. Ma- 
 bel's answer to Allan's letter, in which he had 
 used the superlative degree of the word preceding 
 her name, was almost cold. She hesitated to send 
 it at first, lest it should discourage him when he 
 was still needing the encouragement of his friends, 
 but finally she mailed it, saying to herself : "I can't 
 write any other kind of letter now, and if he does 
 not answer this, perhaps it is best. For a while, 
 at least, it is impossible for us to be mere 
 friends." 
 
 Allan Rutledge saw her in the audience when he 
 was making his great speech at the Convention, of 
 which we will hear later, but she did not come 
 forward to greet him at the close of the meeting 
 that day, although her father, who was with her, 
 did. 
 
 Allan had called at Judge Grayson's home the 
 first morning of the Convention, but Mabel had 
 gone out. Judge Grayson invited him to supper 
 the evening after his speech and he was delighted 
 to accept it, but just about six o'clock that day 
 ne received a telegram calling him back imme- 
 diately to Wellington on account of a sudden 
 death in his congregation, and he felt compelled
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 to take the seven o'clock train for home that even- 
 ing. He excused himself to Judge Grayson over 
 the telephone. 
 
 "He didn't want to come, papa," said Mabel, 
 when her father had brought Allan's excuse to 
 her at the supper table. 
 
 "Why, daughter, you are mistaken. He was 
 much pleased when I invited him. I know it was 
 only his stern sense of duty that has sent him 
 back to Wellington, as he wanted to remain until 
 the close of the Convention. I know he was an- 
 ticipating the pleasure of meeting you again be- 
 fore he left Des Moines. He told me so." 
 
 "Did he really?" said the girl, with an uncon- 
 scious blush. 
 
 "There, there, child! Mr. Rutledge's enemies 
 say he hypnotizes the people. I am afraid he has 
 hypnotized my daughter." 
 
 Mabel made no reply, busying herself pouring 
 out a cup of tea for her father. 
 
 "I am proud of such a man as Allan Rutledge," 
 went on the Judge enthusiastically. "The moral 
 and religious future of the Middle Wejt is as- 
 sured if men like him become the leaders in the 
 Church." 
 
 "I have always admired him," answered Mabel 
 quietly, "since that day when he graduated, when 
 he risked his life to quiet our horses and deliv- 
 ered his address on 'Self-control.' " 
 
 "That was a magnificent oration for a graduat- 
 ing address," said her father. "For real eloquence 
 I never heard anything that has surpassed it until 
 I heard Mr. Rutledge this afternoon at the Con-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 235 
 
 vention. On his graduation day, you remember, I 
 told you that the young man was a 'friend to man.' 
 He has fulfilled my hopes for him." 
 
 Mabel's memory went back, like a flash, to that 
 happy day when she had met Allan Rutledge on 
 the train. That \vas the day he had arrived in 
 Wellington to begin his eventful ministry. She 
 recalled vividly of telling him what her father had 
 said about him, and how he had replied, with his 
 black eyes shining: "At least, I am a friend to his 
 daughter." 
 
 "Yes, he is still my friend," thought Mabel sad- 
 ly, "but he is only my friend. It is a joy to most 
 people to have such a man as a friend. Alas, it is 
 my cross !" 
 
 But outside the inner sanctuary of her own soul 
 no one ever knew Mabel Grayson's disappoint- 
 ment. How little we know of the inner life of 
 even those who are nearest us! 
 
 "I am glad Mr. Rutledge won such a splendid 
 victory in the Convention to-day," she said, after 
 a brief pause. Then the conversation changed to 
 a discussion of plans for the European trip.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE CHURCH CONVENTION HEARS REV. 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE. 
 
 "I am sure we can oust the fellow without any 
 trouble." 
 
 "I don't know about that," Brother Miller. I 
 have lost all influence with Markley, and that pious 
 fellow, Stanford, has come to represent the Well- 
 ington Church at the Convention." And the last 
 speaker frowned and shook his head. 
 
 This conversation took place between two min- 
 isters as they walked along the streets of Des 
 Moines. Anyone could tell they were ministers, 
 not from any nobility of character in their appear- 
 ance, we are sorry to say in this instance, but by 
 their pompous air and clerical dress. 
 
 "I will arrange to keep Stanford quiet," said the 
 first speaker, who was Allan's bitter enemy, Dr. 
 Warren Miller. "W T e have it all arranged that I 
 am to be the president of the Convention this 
 year, and when the reports from the churches are 
 being given I will recognize you when Wellington 
 Church is called on to report. As the president of 
 the college you can report for both the church and 
 the college." 
 
 "Good!" replied President Older, for he was the 
 other speaker. "I will be able to take the wind 
 
 236
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 237 
 
 out of Rutledge's sails. I believe he has been 
 writing around to ministers of the smaller 
 churches. I have found several friends of his 
 among the country pastors." 
 
 "Oh, those 'rubes' from the country are an ignor- 
 ant set !" sneered the Rev. Dr. Warren Miller. 
 "Rutledge belongs among the 'rubes' himself. If 
 any of them try to hinder our plans at this Con- 
 vention, I will soon show them their place. We 
 can cut down their salaries and teach them to 
 mind their own business." 
 
 This threat by Dr. Miller was not an empty one. 
 As the leaders in all departments of the church 
 work, the "machine" controlled the missionary 
 funds from which the meager salaries of the coun- 
 try pastors were supplemented, and it was an easy 
 matter to teach a rebellious preacher by cutting 
 down his missionary allowance. In both Church 
 and State the "machine" principle works sim- 
 ilarly. With these ignoble thoughts filling their 
 souls, these two so-called leaders of Christianity 
 in the Middle West passed on. 
 
 The annual Convention met in a large central 
 church, which seated an immense audience. The 
 floor space was reserved for the ministers and the 
 lay delegates, while the church people of Des 
 Moines and visitors from different parts of the 
 State were seated in the commodious galleries. 
 The entire church was crowded when the Con- 
 v^ntion was called to order. 
 
 No sooner was this done than the smooth work- 
 ings of the ecclesiastical "machine" manifested 
 themselves. One of the "machine" puppets
 
 238 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 jumped to his feet at once and proposed, in lauda- 
 tory terms, that Dr. Warren Miller be elected the 
 president of the Convention. The motion was 
 seconded and carried before the majority of the 
 delegates fully understood that the opening prayer 
 was quite finished. 
 
 Dr. Miller ascended the platform and assumed 
 control. He made a long introductory speech, 
 apparently impromptu, but in reality carefully pre- 
 pared, and prepared with a purpose. He spoke 
 vain-gloriously of the "peace and harmony pre- 
 vailing among the churches within the bounds of 
 our glorious State." Then with simulated reluc- 
 tance he went on to speak of "one or two unfor- 
 tunate exceptions to this happy state of affairs." 
 Everyone knew that he referred to Wellington. 
 
 The dark eyes of the young Wellington minis- 
 ter gleamed as, in a sneering tone, Dr. Miller con- 
 tinued: "Ill-balanced enthusiasm has brought dis- 
 cord into an important center of influence in our 
 church, but I am sure this Convention will settle 
 that unfortunate affair with a view to our vested 
 interests, which have been imperiled by unwise 
 leadership." 
 
 A number of the "machine" gang in the Con- 
 vention applauded these remarks, but Allan Rut- 
 ledge smiled to see how mechanical this applause 
 was, and how small the number of those applaud- 
 ing. The great majority listened in severe silence 
 to Dr. Miller's harangue, and many shook their 
 heads in direct disapproval. Allan sat near the 
 back of the church, and none of these signs, by
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 239 
 
 which an experienced man can read the thoughts 
 of an audience, escaped him. 
 
 Although Wellington was the most important 
 church in the State, outside of Des Moines, the 
 leaders of the Convention ignored Allan altogether 
 in making out their program. 
 
 Dr. Oudrey, another "machine" man. made a 
 long speech on "Reaching Our Young People," in 
 which he took occasion to speak of "sensational 
 preachers who like to see their names in the 
 papers," and denounced such as driving the young 
 people away from the church. "These unwise 
 hotheads," he exclaimed, "make religion undigni- 
 fied, and young people lose all respect for the min- 
 istry when they see such men in charge of our im- 
 portant pulpits. We owe it to ourselves to pro- 
 tect our churches from this kind of demagogery." 
 
 Several other addresses were of the same na- 
 ture, all intended to prepare the mind of the Con- 
 vention to act promptly and decidedly on Allan 
 Rutledge's case, when President Older would 
 bring in his petition, asking for action by the Con- 
 vention on the situation at Wellington. 
 
 But in spite of its labored program the "ma- 
 chine" was ill at ease. Things were not moving 
 as smoothly as they wished. The Convention lis- 
 tened restlessly to these attacks on Wellington's 
 young minister. During the opening hours of the 
 Convention, Allan had mingled freely with the com- 
 rrtoner kind of preachers, the faithful, self-denying 
 home missionaries. He asked them about the suc- 
 cess of vital religion in their parishes and encour-
 
 240 THE VICTORY OF. 
 
 aged them in a way that was new to these hum- 
 ble workers. 
 
 The leaders of the "machine" had arranged to 
 snub Allan at the Convention if he appeared in 
 their councils, but he gave them no opportunity, 
 as he always sought the association of the ignored 
 portion of the ministry. The parity of the minis- 
 try was not a mere phrase with him; it was a 
 reality. 
 
 President Older thought, of course, that this was 
 a part of Allan's deep political scheme to influence 
 the Convention, but he had to admit the superior 
 wisdom shown by the Wellington preacher in thus 
 winning to himself the rural ministers, as, when 
 it came to votes, they were in the majority and 
 really controlled everything. 
 
 As the Convention proceeded, a roll-call of all 
 the churches was made, and each church reported 
 briefly. Generally, the pastor reported for the 
 church, although sometimes a lay delegate spoke. 
 When the name of the Wellington Church was 
 called, Dr. Miller, the president of the Convention, 
 said: "I see President Older is here. He can give 
 us the report from Wellington." 
 
 As President Older arose, the "machine" gang 
 again tried to stir up applause, but it died out 
 ignominiously. The college president frowned as 
 he noticed the failure of his friends/' 
 
 "Brethren of the Convention," he began, "we 
 have had a trying year at Wellington. Some new 
 members have been received into the church, 
 most of them very poor people, but to offset this 
 slight advantage our college has been seriously in-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 241 
 
 jured, as you all know, through a reckless blunder. 
 Some of our moneyed men in Wellington are talk- 
 ing of withdrawing from the church, and the situa- 
 tion is very perplexing. We need the help of this 
 Convention. I hope that later on action can be 
 taken that will restore the former peace and har- 
 mony between the church and college, and bring 
 back again all who are now alienated from the 
 church." 
 
 This was a strange report to come from the 
 Wellington Church, which had reported in acces- 
 sions the largest number received anywhere that 
 year, and which was well known to have had a 
 most remarkable religious awakening. 
 
 Amid the tense silence which followed Presi- 
 dent Older's remarks, Dr. Miller hastily called the 
 name of the next church, so as to shut out any 
 further report from Wellington. But Dr. Miller 
 reckoned without his host. 
 
 "Stop !" Shouting this word at the top of his 
 voice, Deacon Stanford was on his feet in an in- 
 stant. He was seated near the front, and as he 
 turned to face the Convention, everyone could 
 mark his emotion. His face was red. His eyes 
 shone. He was plainly laboring under great ex- 
 citement. He had listened to the covert attacks 
 on Allan Rutledge until he could endure no longer. 
 As he afterward told his wife, he would have ex- 
 ploded right there if he had kept still another mo- 
 m^nt. "Stop!" he shouted again. "I object to 
 that report from the Wellington Church. I am 
 an officer in that church, and President Older's 
 remarks are false and misleading."
 
 242 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "Order! order!" cried Dr. Miller. 
 
 "I am in order, sir!" cried the indignant dea- 
 con. "I am qualified to make a report for the 
 Wellington Church, and I am going to make it." 
 A roar of deafening applause from the Convention 
 showed that Deacon Stanford had at last broken 
 the spell of the "machine." 
 
 "I rise to a point of order!" cried President 
 Older, getting on his feet. 
 
 "Sit down ! sit down ! sit down !" came from 
 every part of the building. President Older sat 
 down in confusion, his face distorted with rage. 
 Dr. Miller saw that further opposition was use- 
 less, and Deacon Stanford went on. He told of 
 the great work that Allan Rutledge had accom- 
 plished. He spoke of the Sabbath services, the 
 Monday evening Bible class, the prayer meetings, 
 the converted drunkards and changed homes. The 
 Convention listened spellbound. It was like a re- 
 freshing breeze in a musty room to hear of a truly 
 revived church in the annual Convention. Before 
 he sat down, seeing he had the sympathetic atten- 
 tion of the entire Convention, Deacon Stanford 
 made an appeal on behalf of his minister. With 
 tears in his eyes, and with his voice trembling with 
 emotion, he asked: "Has Mr. Rutledge been 
 treated fairly in this Convention? Is it a crime 
 for a man to preach the Gospel with power in 
 Iowa? Why, then, are these men hounding this 
 minister, whom the whole church in Wellington 
 loves?" 
 
 There was a hush as Deacon Stanford sat down. 
 You could have heard a pin fall in the immense
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 auditorium. Then came cries of "Allan Rut- 
 ledge! Allan Rutledge!" 
 
 Allan arose at the rear of the church to speak. 
 
 "Platform ! platform !" the enthusiastic delegates 
 cried. 
 
 The yung hero made his way to the front. As 
 he faced the audience, which represented an im- 
 portant branch of the Christian Church of all Iowa, 
 the deafening applause told him that his brethren 
 had judged his cause and found a verdict in his 
 favor. A tear sprang into his eye at this token 
 of approval, so unsolicited, so cordial, o sincere. 
 He looked over the Convention. It was a truly 
 representative body. The varied nationalities 
 found in the Middle West were all represented. 
 The energy and vigor of a new country were pic- 
 tured on their faces. These true men had snapped 
 the bonds of the ecclesiastical "machine" as soon 
 as they discovered its real spirit. Allan Rutledge 
 represented them, and thenceforth he became their 
 leader. 
 
 President Buchanan was in power in the United 
 States in a critical time in our history, but he did 
 not represent the people. As soon as the people 
 had an opportunity of expressing themselves Bu- 
 chanan was hurled from office, and Abraham Lin- 
 coln stepped into the place of leadership, for he 
 represented the people's common aims and hopes. 
 So in that memorable Church Convention in Des 
 koines, the church at last found an opportunity 
 of expressing itself, and it hurled to the ground 
 men like Dr. Warren Miller and President Older,
 
 244 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 and Allan Rutledge and kindred spirits assumed 
 control. 
 
 Allan began his speech quietly and slowly. He 
 did not boast, but with great earnestness he told 
 of the power of God's Word in Wellington, and of 
 the complete transformation which a genuine re- 
 ligious awakening had accomplished. Away back 
 in the gallery he caught sight of Mabel Grayson, 
 listening intently to his story, and the knowledge 
 of her presence gave him a sense of exaltation. He 
 grew more and more eloquent. The Convention 
 listened in wonder at his power. 
 
 "When I went to Wellington," the speaker con- 
 cluded "my prayer was: 
 
 'Wherever wrongs the right deny, 
 Or suffering spirits urge their plea, 
 
 Make me a voice to smite the lie, 
 A hand to set the prisoner free.' 
 
 I have shirked no known duty in the performance 
 of my ministry, though I freely confess I have 
 made many mistakes. But God has blessed my 
 feeble efforts to help my fellow-men. I stand here 
 to-day and record to him my gratitude. No mat- 
 ter what disposition this Convention may make of 
 the petition of my enemies that I be removed from 
 Wellington, I shall go on in my life in future as I 
 have in the past, with malice toward none, with 
 charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God 
 gives me to see the right.' Brethren, I seek not 
 honor from men.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 'I live for those who love me, 
 
 For those who hold me true, 
 For the heaven that smiles above me 
 
 . And waits my coming too : 
 For the wrongs that needs resistance, 
 For the good that needs assistance, 
 For the future in the distance, 
 And the good that I may do.' " 
 
 When the speaker sat down the whole Conven- 
 tion rose as one man, and a faithful, old home mis- 
 sionary, Captain Bryan, led in prayer. In his 
 younger days this man had been a sea captain, 
 and in h i 's fervent prayer that day he made many 
 references to the sea, the rocks, the storms and the 
 ships that battle with the waves. He implored 
 the great Pilot of the Gospel ship to guide the 
 Chuich in that wondrous Western land, and raise 
 up more men like Allan Rutledge, who would 
 boldly launch the lifeboat and save those who were 
 sinking in the dark waters of sin. 
 
 When Captain Bryan had finished his prayer 
 the incident closed, and the rest of the reports were 
 called for. But it was a convention now with a 
 new spirit. The old leaders held their offices nom- 
 inally a little longer, but the "machine" itself knew 
 that its days were numbered. At the close of 
 the session of the Convention that afternoon an 
 informal reception was given to Wellington's vic- 
 torious minister, and expressions of good-will were 
 showered upon him. Among those who greeted 
 him was Judge Grayson. 
 
 "I am Mabel's father," he said. "I congratulate
 
 246 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 you on your speech to-day. It aas changed the 
 course of history in Iowa. I have only heard one 
 better speech in my life, and that was your gradu- 
 ating address at our college. Do you remember 
 it?" 
 
 Allan remembered it all only too well. He 
 missed the Judge's daughter, who had, on the 
 former occasion, come forward to speak to him, 
 but who was nowhere to be seen at this time. 
 
 "Come to supper with us to-night," said the 
 Judge. "Mabel will be delighted to see you, I 
 know." 
 
 Allan gladly consented. However, a short time 
 later a telegram was handed him from Wellington. 
 It was a call for him to return home at once, as 
 one of his congregation had been suddenly stricken 
 and his presence was required the next day. After 
 excusing himself over the telephone to the kind 
 Judge, he took the night train for Wellington. 
 
 In spite of Allan's evident victory in the Con- 
 vention his enemies still had a little hope. They 
 could not believe that their whole power had gone 
 from them so swiftly and so completely. They 
 waited until almost the end of the Convention, and, 
 at the last moment, when the majority of the dele- 
 gates had departed for their homes, President 
 Older presented his petition asking the Conven- 
 tion to investigate the trouble at Wellington and 
 recommend further action at a later time. This 
 petition was made with the hope that by contin- 
 ually harassing Allan he would weary of the strug- 
 gle and retire of his own accord. But President 
 Older had failed to notice that the faithful Deacon
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 247 
 
 Stanford was still at the Convention. He had 
 feared such a trick and was on hand to expose it. 
 As soon as President Older sat down the Deacon 
 again 'umped to his feet. He threw away all re- 
 serve and carried the war into the enemy's quar- 
 ter, attacking vigorously the present administra- 
 tion of Wellington College. 
 
 "Who denies that there was gambling there?" 
 he cried. "Is it a crime to expose such deviltry 
 just because it happens in a Christian college?" 
 
 He then went on to say that the church was 
 unanimous in its support of Mr. Rutledge, and 
 that he had givea the church new life. 
 
 "It is the college alone that needs to be inves- 
 tigated," said Deacon Stanford, in conclusion, "and 
 I move that a committee of this Convention be 
 appointed to, investigate the real condition of 
 things in Wellington College, said committee to 
 lay the results of their investigations before the 
 Board of Trustees of the college." 
 
 To the intense disgust and humiliation of Presi- 
 dent Older this resolution carried, and a com- 
 mittee was named, which was composed of men of 
 courage and integrity. 
 
 Deacon Stanford was jubilant -vhen he returned 
 home, and in talking over events with Allan he 
 exclaimed : "We have not seen the end yet. Presi- 
 dent Older has another big slice of 'humble pie' to 
 eat before he is done!"
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE TRUSTEES OF WELLINGTON COL- 
 LEGE HAVE A HOUSECLEANING. 
 
 There is an interesting story in an ancient writ- 
 ing about a man named Haman, who became 
 offended at one of his fellow-citizens, a certain Mor- 
 decai, a rather good sort of man. Haman became 
 more and more bitter in his enmity, and finally 
 plotted Mordecai's death. Building a gallows fifty 
 cubits high, he designed to ask as a favor from the 
 king of that country to be given the pleasure of 
 suspending his enemy, Mordecai, from the lofty 
 gallows. As he was a high favorite with the king, 
 he did not anticipate any trouble in obtaining this 
 favor, but a sudden turn in the wheel of fortune 
 brought Mordecai under the king's smile, while 
 Haman fell into disgrace. The result was that the 
 king hanged Haman on the gallows which he had 
 prepared for Mordecai. 
 
 As President Older returned to Wellington after 
 the annual Convention, he felt much the same as 
 Haman must have felt when he found himself 
 about to be suspended from his own gallows. 
 The college president had prepared a pit for the 
 Rev. Allan Rutledge, but he had fallen into his 
 own pit. Allan Rutledge was the hero of the 
 hour, while President Older realized that he had 
 
 248
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 249 
 
 lost his power in the Convention, and he began 
 to fear for his own future. 
 
 The Convention committee was to meet in a few 
 weeks to investigate the college. The results of 
 this investigation were dreaded by the presi- 
 dent, who had been more occupied in churcn poli- 
 tics than in the proper administration of Welling- 
 ton's educational institution. So much did Presi- 
 dent Older dread an investigation, that he finally 
 paid a visit to the Wellington minister, and began 
 to beg for Allan's help. 
 
 Allan was surprised to see the former haughty 
 churchman so humiliated, and he really felt sorry 
 for him, but it was now too late for the college au- 
 thorities to make advances to the minister. 
 
 "The committee of the Convention must come 
 and make its investigations," said Allan. 
 
 "We must arrange to have that committee dis- 
 missed," answered President Older anxiously. 
 "They will only revive the scandal and hurt our 
 college just as we are beginning the fall term." 
 
 "I can do nothing, sir," replied Allan gravely. 
 "It is too late. I offered you peace on the Chau- 
 tauqua grounds, but you chose war." 
 
 The investigating committee met in Wellington 
 a few weeks later and made a thorough investiga- 
 tion of the college. Students were questioned, 
 professors were examined, even President Older 
 was compelled to answer a number of pointed 
 questions. The results of the investigation were 
 4iot made public, but the committee laid them be- 
 fore a full meeting of the board of trustees of the 
 college, which met shortly after this.
 
 250 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 This was the first full meeting of the board of 
 trustees that had been held in several years. A 
 few of the trustees had previously attended en- 
 tirely to the business connected with the institu- 
 tion. The result of the widespread sensation in 
 regard to gambling in the college had awakened 
 the other trustees to their duty. They came in 
 full force to this meeting, fully determined to 
 have a thorough housecleaning. 
 
 President Older and the few trustees who had 
 formerly held control made a desperate effort to 
 whitewash the college and to throw the blame for 
 all the trouble on Allan Rutledge. But this was 
 futile. The majority of the trustees had heard 
 Allan in Des Moines, when he made his great 
 speech before the Convention, and they were now 
 on his side. In addition, the Convention commit- 
 tee presented the results of its investigation, and 
 it disclosed an alarming state of affairs. It was 
 proved that the social habits of the college had 
 become exceedingly loose. It was shown that a 
 regular gambling class had been holding meetings 
 in the college for a long time previous to its ex- 
 posure and disorganization through Allan Rut- 
 ledge's newspaper attack. The dances which Fred- 
 erick Markley had organized every month at the 
 college were also scathingly denounced as a factor 
 in the growing spirit of irreligion and careless 
 morals in the institution. The committee's report 
 recommended that the college administration be 
 entirely reorganized, and stating that such a 
 change would be necessary or the annual Conven- 
 tion would be requested to designate Wellington
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 251 
 
 College as an undesirable institution from a Chris- 
 tian standpoint. 
 
 This report stirred the trustees to immediate 
 action. Professor Oilman was summarily dis- 
 missed, as unqualified to be an instructor in a 
 Christian college. President Older and three other 
 professors were requested to resign. In vain Dr. 
 Warren Miller, one of the trustees, pleaded for his 
 old associate. In vain some of the local trustees, 
 who had no connection with the Wellington 
 Church and who disliked Allan Rutledge's ag- 
 gressive Christianity, tried to whitewash the situa- 
 tion, and to retain President Older. The trustees 
 were determined to reshape the entire policy of the 
 college. 
 
 President Older resigned, and a new president, 
 Professor Richard Shephard, was elected, a well 
 known friend of Allan's, who had spent a year 
 abroad when the Wellington minister was study- 
 ing also in Europe. Rev. Allan Rutledge was also 
 elected to the board of trustees, in place of Dr. 
 Warren Miller, who resigned. The breach be- 
 tween the church and college in Wellington was 
 fully healed, and new prosperity came to the reno- 
 vated educational center. 
 
 It was characteristic of Allan Rutledge, that 
 while these exciting scenes were being enacted at 
 the meeting of the board of trustees of the college, 
 he himself should be engaged in the humble, 
 though Christlike work, of visiting among the 
 lowly. 
 
 While he was calling at the home of the wid- 
 owed and childless German woman, whose daugh-
 
 252 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ter had died in Allan's presence some time before, 
 he met Grace Markley, and they walked home to- 
 gether. 
 
 "Where is your brother, Frederick?" asked the 
 minister, who had not seen Miss Markley, to speak 
 to, for some little time. 
 
 "He is down in Texas on a trip," she answered 
 with a sad voice. "Fred is in poor health, and 
 something is troubling him dreadfully." 
 
 "I believe your brother is getting ready to 
 change his life," said Allan hopefully, and he re- 
 lated to her his interview with Frederick at the 
 railroad "bend." 
 
 "I certainly hope and pray that he may soon be 
 aroused to see how he is wasting his life," replied 
 the sister. "I have prayed, oh, so earnestly for 
 Frederick. He used to be a good boy. It was 
 such companions as Jamison White and some of 
 the wilder students at the college who led him 
 astray. I often have wished that you had come to 
 Wellington a few years earlier. It would have 
 meant Frederick's salvation." 
 
 "I think God is about to answer your prayers 
 for your brother," said the minister encouragingly. 
 "I am always hopeful for the erring when they 
 realize their condition, and I think your brother 
 now sees he has been living in folly. I am going 
 to have a good talk with him when he returns." 
 
 "He will be home in a month or so. I do not 
 think he is being benefited any in Texas. It is 
 not a change of climate he needs; it is a change of 
 heart." 
 
 "I am glad to see your father attending church
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 253 
 
 again," s#id Allan a little later. "Deacon Stan- 
 ford tells me that he is not so bitter as he was 
 against the present minister in Wellington." 
 
 "Poor papa !" responded the girl, "something is 
 troubling him, too. We have been very unhappy 
 recently at our home. I wish you could call on 
 papa in his office. He seems to have lost interest 
 in everything. He did not even attend the meet- 
 ing of the college trustees to-day. He told us at 
 dinner, however, that the trustees are determined 
 to remove President Older." 
 
 "I am sorry for President Older," said Allan, 
 "but he is reaping what he has sown. That law of 
 the harvest is an unchangeable law of our uni- 
 verse, and it is a terrible law. I often shudder 
 when I think of it. Men would be' more careful 
 in their lives if they did not forget this unalterable 
 and universal law." 
 
 "I know it," said the girl quietly. "In my own 
 brief experience I have seen that law at work. But 
 Mr. Rutledge," she went on earnestly, "you must 
 call on papa as soon as you can. I believe you can 
 help him. He is almost as miserable as Fred. I 
 think he and Fred have quarreled, although papa 
 has not said anything about it to us." 
 
 "I will surely see him," responded the minister. 
 
 "Before I forget it," said the girl again, "I want 
 to congratulate you on your speech at the Conven- 
 tion in Des Moines. The papers have been full of 
 it and Mabel Grayson has written me that Judge 
 Grayson said it was the best speech he ever heard. 
 She told me I ought to be proud of you." 
 
 "What is the matter with your cousin?" Allan
 
 254 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 responded quickly, ignoring her compliment in his 
 haste. 
 
 "What makes you ask such a question as that?" 
 asked Grace Markley, in surprise. 
 
 "She avoided me when I was in Des Moines, 
 and she writes such short, cold, formal letters, so 
 different from what she used to write. After my 
 speech her father came up and spoke to me and 
 invited me to supper at their home, but Mabel did 
 not come near, although she was sitting beside her 
 father in the gallery. I did not see her at all when 
 I was in Des Moines. She was out when I called, 
 and I was not able to go to supper when the Judge 
 invited me, as it was that evening I received a tele- 
 gram calling me back to Wellington. I wonder 
 if I have offended her in any way," Allan added in 
 a plaintive voice. 
 
 "I really don't understand Mabel myself lately," 
 said Grace. "She wrote me some time ago that 
 she thought she would not take the European trip, 
 and then she hastily changed her mind, and she 
 and her father go with a party to Europe. They 
 sail November 5th from New York. She has re- 
 fused to visit Wellington before she starts, and I 
 sometimes think her letters to me are not as cor- 
 dial as formerly." 
 
 "I must arrange to see her before she leaves 
 Des Moines," said the minister. "When I was 
 speaking at the Convention I noticed her in the 
 audience and I was reminded of the first day I 
 ever saw her. It was on my graduation day at 
 college. All through my graduating oration I 
 could feel the influence of her presence and sym-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 255 
 
 pathy. It was just the same at the Convention. 
 I saw her in the gallery, sitting beside her father, 
 and I felt inspired." 
 
 "You are winning on every side, Mr. Rutledge," 
 said the girl, wishing to change the conversation. 
 "I should think you would be a happy man, since 
 you have received the approbation of your fellow- 
 ministers in such a marked way. Your enemies 
 have been silenced and confounded." 
 
 "I ought to be happy," he answered sadly, "but 
 I am not. I am grieved about Miss Grayson. 
 What does the applause of all Iowa signify if she 
 frowns on me?" 
 
 Grace Markley had come to the conclusion that 
 Mabel Grayson did not in any way return Allan's 
 affection, of which she had known for some time, 
 and she was desirous of turning his thoughts away 
 from Mabel, and she felt that only disappointment 
 would result from his suit. She determined, with 
 a wisdom beyond her years, to arouse him to other 
 ambitions. 
 
 "For shame, Mr. Rutledge!" she exclaimed. 
 "Are all the rest of us of no account? Your duty 
 in life is not to win the affection of Mabel Grayson 
 or any other person. Your duty is a higher and 
 nobler mission. It is yours to lead in the grand 
 work of Americanizing and Christianizing this 
 varied population of our wonderful Middle West. 
 God has called you to a place of vast influence and 
 power. Do not betray your cause, as Samson did, 
 seeking your own personal pleasure." 
 
 The energy with which the girl spoke, the ring 
 of sincerity in her voice, the lofty vision of his life-
 
 256 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 
 
 work which she described, caused Allan to stand 
 still and gaze at her in astonishment. 
 
 "You know I am speaking the truth," the girl 
 continued. "Providence has clearly indicated that 
 you are to be one of God's chosen instruments in 
 laying deep and true the foundations of Christ's 
 kingdom in this favored Mississippi valley. Lift 
 up your eyes unto the hills, Mr. Rutledge. Am I 
 not telling you God's plan for your life?" 
 
 Allan heard and understood. Her vision of his 
 mission became his own, and he was thrilled at the 
 sight. But his heart ah, his heart was human ! 
 The Irish poet, Moore, has sung: 
 
 "The heart, like the tendril, accustomed to cling, 
 Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone." 
 
 "Must I cease to think of her?" he asked him- 
 self, and his heart answered, "You cannot, you 
 cannot !" 
 
 But a higher voice spoke within his soul. "You 
 can do your duty," this voice said, "even if your 
 heart is uncheered by the affection for which it 
 hungers." Allan Rutledge girded up the loins of 
 his soul. 
 
 "You are right," he said slowly and emphatical- 
 ly, to Grace Markley, as he bade her farewell. "I 
 will be true to my mission first of all. I thank 
 you for reminding me that first things must always 
 be put first." 
 
 And with a firm resolve, but bleeding heart, he 
 walked on rapidly through the streets of Welling- 
 ton.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 THE HUSKING CONTEST. 
 
 It was a perfect autumn morning, one day late 
 in October, when Allan started for another visit 
 to his father's home on the Des Moines River. 
 
 "I must get away from Wellington," he said to 
 himself. "I can fight out this battle in my heart 
 better on the old farm." 
 
 Allan seemed born to struggle. His enemies in 
 the church and college had been utterly routed. 
 He was victorious on every side over his external 
 foes. But an internal enemy had now attacked 
 him. He was struggling desperately with the dis- 
 appointment he felt in seeing Mabel Grayson slip 
 out of his life. She had come to figure so largely 
 in all of his plans for the future that life without 
 her seemed a blank. Yet, as Grace Markley ha3 
 shown him, his first duty was to his life mission. 
 He acknowledged this, but, to his dismay, he 
 found himself losing all interest, apparently, in his 
 work, and he was unable to keep his thoughts from 
 dwelling constantly on the beautiful daughter of 
 Judge Grayson. 
 
 "She is not for me," he said to himself sadly, on 
 that autumn day, as he started away from Well- 
 ingfbn. "I must crush this rebellious heart of 
 mine. The old farm will revive my soul." 
 
 257
 
 258 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 He arrived at the small town near his father's 
 farm late in the afternoon, and at once started to 
 walk into the country. It was the fall season, and 
 the golden ears of corn were hanging ripe on the 
 tall stalks ready to be gathered by the hand of the 1 
 farmer. The corn crop is gathered leisurely by the 
 Iowa farmers during the weeks that follow the lat- 
 ter part of October. 
 
 As Allan walked briskly along the familiar road 
 by the side of the Des Moines River, he met sev- 
 eral farmers with their wagons loaded full with 
 the golden cereal, the first-fruits of a "bumper" 
 crop. Naturally, his thoughts reverted to his walk 
 along the same road a few months before. How 
 changed all was since then ! Not only was the 
 entire appearance of nature changed, but his own 
 circumstances were altogether altered. Then he 
 was a minister under fire and in danger of com- 
 plete defeat. Now he was the victorious leader of 
 his church not only in Wellington, but in all Iowa. 
 
 Deep gratitude for his victory welled up in his 
 soul. The fruitful fields around him recalled to 
 his mind the devout words of an ancient Eastern 
 poet: "Thou crownest the year with thy good- 
 ness and thy paths drop fatness. They drop upon 
 the pastures of the wilderness : and the little hills 
 rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed 
 with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with 
 corn; they shout for joy, they also sing." 
 
 "These words describe God's goodness to my 
 own beloved Iowa," said Allan to himself. 
 
 Then the river recalled to his mind the happy 
 days at the "camp" with Mabel Grayson and her
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 friends, and a gloom came into his soul. The 
 darkness was deepening around him and he began 
 to repeat slowly to himself the pathetic words of 
 Gray's "Elegy": 
 
 "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
 The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
 The plowman homeward wends his weary way, 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me." 
 
 "Yes," he went on, thinking aloud, "I am left 
 alone with my darkness. Mabel desires to be my 
 friend, but I can plainly see my suit displeases her. 
 She honors me as a minister of Christ and respects 
 me as a man, but, alas! she can never understand 
 how desolate she has left my heart." 
 
 With such sad thoughts in his mind, Allan ar- 
 rived at the old farm and entered his father's gate. 
 His welcome home was so cordial and hearty that 
 his spirits rose at once. 
 
 "Hail to the Chief !" sang out his sister, Edith. 
 
 "I am proud of you, my boy," said his father. 
 "All the newspapers have been ringing with your 
 praises since your great speech at the Convention 
 at Des Moines." 
 
 His mother said nothing, simply throwing her 
 arms around his neck and giving him a sincere 
 kiss of welcome and affection. Allan was happy, 
 for there is no praise like that of the home folks. 
 
 "Here is a letter that will surprise you," said 
 his mother, a little later. "We were so glad to get 
 it yesterday. You have come home just in time." 
 
 Allan's eyes opened wide in astonishment, as he
 
 260 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 read the following letter which his mother had 
 handed to him: 
 
 "Des Moines, Iowa," October 25, 190 . 
 
 "My Dear Mrs. Rutledge: I am expecting to 
 start on a trip to Europe in a few days, but I have 
 not forgotten my promise to visit you in corn- 
 gathering time. I shall be down on Wednesday 
 of this week to spend a day with you, arriving on 
 the early morning train. I expect some of you 
 can meet me at the station. I shall be glad to see 
 you all again, and I am bringing you a book which 
 I know you will enjoy. Your loving friend, 
 
 "Mabel Grayson." 
 
 Allan at first was too amazed to speak. Then 
 a thrill of joy possessed him. At least he would 
 see her again! 
 
 "You can drive over to the station for her to- 
 morrow morning," said his mother to Allan. 
 "You got here just in time to be useful." 
 
 "I surely will !" he responded, so eagerly that his 
 mother exclaimed : "Ah, you knew she was coming 
 and you have come up to see her, not us !" 
 
 "Not at all, not at all!" he answered. "I have 
 not heard from Miss Grayson for some time. I 
 had no idea whatever of meeting her here." 
 
 "Still, you are glad she is coming," interjected 
 his sister, Edith. "I can tell it from your eyes." 
 
 "Bravo !" cried Paul, a younger brother of Al- 
 lan's. "To-morrow is to be a great day, all right. 
 Our husking contest comes off to-morrow. It will 
 be grand to have visitors from Wellington and Des 
 Moines." 
 
 *'What husking contest?" asked Allan.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 61 
 
 "Roger Manning and I," said Paul Rutledge, 
 "are to decide who is the best husker to-morrow. 
 He has been bragging about what he can do, and 
 I challenged him to a contest. I have been train- 
 ing for it for over a week." 
 
 "I shall certainly enjoy an old-fashioned husking 
 contest," said Allan. "It will remind me of old 
 times, when I used to gather corn myself." 
 
 Allan had difficulty in sleeping that night. The 
 long, long memories of boyhood thronged through 
 his mind, the excitement of his homecoming, the 
 anticipated meeting with Mabel Grayson and the 
 drive alone with her from the station, all combined 
 to drive away sleep, and fill his soul with thrilling 
 emotions. 
 
 It was long after midnight when sleep finally 
 came and his joys and sorrows, triumphs and de- 
 feats, were all forgotten in slumber. How won- 
 derful is sleep ! Waving its mystic wand over 
 wearied humanity, it breathes fresh life into the 
 unconscious souls of men. 
 
 The sun was up, and the entire household was 
 astir when Allan's profound slumbers were dis- 
 turbed by loud knocking at his door. 
 
 "Get up, Allan!" his brother, Paul, was saying. 
 "It is nearly time to start for the station." 
 
 Allan bestirred himself quickly, and dressing 
 hastily, hurried down to breakfast. After the 
 meal he accompanied his father to the barn to 
 assist in hitching up the driving team. 
 
 Harnessed to a new buggy, the prancing horses 
 made a pretty picture, and Allan's father and 
 mother watched him drive out to the road, with
 
 262 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 the easy mastery of an experienced driver, their 
 hearts went out to the strong, capable, preacher- 
 son. 
 
 "He is a good boy," said the father, as the buggy 
 disappeared swiftly down the road. 
 
 "I always knew my Allan would do a great work 
 in the world," responded the mother, with a tear 
 of happiness in her eye. "He has Abraham Lin- 
 coln's purity of soul and the courage of a Martin 
 Luther. I well knew he would win a victory in 
 Wellington." 
 
 Shortly after Allan reached the station, the morn- 
 ing train from Des Moines rolled in. The conduc- 
 tor and brakeman jumped off and a few passengers 
 began to alight. With a bound of joy in his heart, 
 Allan saw Mabel Grayson step down on the plat- 
 form. She looked around inquiringly and their 
 eyes met. 
 
 "You Allan !" she exclaimed, so enthusiastically 
 that he thought his ears had deceived him. He 
 was about to reply eagerly, "Yes, Mabel, are you 
 glad to see me?" when she quickly recovered her- 
 self and added, "Mr. Rutledge, I mean." 
 
 She spoke in a strained voice and Allan at once 
 thought she had read his eyes, and that she had 
 purposely repelled him coldly. 
 
 "I will not torment her with my attentions," he 
 thought to himself. "She is mother's guest. I 
 will say nothing to her to-day." 
 
 Mabel Grayson noticed his constraint and imag- 
 ined it resulted from his desire to be friendly, but 
 not too friendly.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 263 
 
 "He shall not know my heart," she said within 
 herself. 
 
 Thus it was that owing to misunderstandings 
 on both sides these two natures, mutually so at- 
 tracted to each other, kept wide apart during the 
 entire drive from the station to the Rutledge farm. 
 
 Scientists tell us that oxygen and hydrogen, 
 though capable of uniting their elements in the 
 lovely unity of the sparkling dewdrop, yet can re- 
 main side by side indefinitely, as separate elements, 
 unless an electric spark flashes through them. So 
 that morning these two congenial natures kept 
 apart from each other. Had the electric spark 
 "I love you" only flashed from Allan's lips, their 
 two hearts would have flowed together like water, 
 but Mabel gave no outward encouragement, and 
 Allan fiercely quenched the spark that almost 
 emitted itself in spite of him. 
 
 Still it was a drive long remembered by both. 
 The road wound , along the river, shaded by trees, 
 for the most part, and made romantic looking by 
 the glades, richly wooded, along the banks. 
 
 "Do you remember the night you sang, 'Ye 
 Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon' at the 'camp' 
 last summer?" Allan asked, when the road skirted 
 so near the river that they could hear its gentle 
 swish against the banks. 
 
 "I certainly do !" answered Mabel. "We enjoyed 
 ourselves that night." 
 
 "I wish it could have lasted forever," said Allan 
 pathetically. 
 
 Mabel did not understand his meaning and she
 
 264 THE VICTORY Oft 
 
 was silent. He took it as a fresh rebuff and be- 
 gan to speak to her about her trip to Europe. 
 
 "You ought to visit Scotland and see the places 
 which Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott have 
 immortalized by their genius," he began. 
 
 "We intend to visit the British Isles on our way 
 home," she answered. 
 
 "What is your itinerary for your trip?" asked 
 Allan, glad to find a congenial topic of conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 The girl was also glad to go into details. She 
 described fully their plans. They expected to go 
 direct from New York to Egypt, passing down the 
 Nile as far as Asyut. 
 
 "I have a dear friend who is a medical mission- 
 ary in Asyut," said Mabel. "She is the head nurse 
 in the operating department of the American hos- 
 pital there." 
 
 The journey from Egypt to Palestine was to be 
 made overland, following the footsteps of Moses 
 and the children of Israel. After a tour through 
 the Holy Land, they planned to visit the famous 
 countries of Europe, finishing the trip by an ex- 
 tended visit to England, Scotland and Ireland. 
 
 "How delightful a program !" said Allan en- 
 thusiastically. "How I wish I could accompany 
 your party!" He then began to speak of some of 
 the interesting European places which he himself 
 had visited. 
 
 All at once Mabel cried out: "Here we are at 
 your home, and yonder is your father and mother 
 awaiting us. What a short drive it was!" 
 
 Mrs. Rutledge welcomed Miss Grayson heartily,
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 265 
 
 exclaiming : "How fortunate that Allan came up ! 
 [You both seem to have enjoyed your drive." 
 
 "I certainly did not expect to meet your son," 
 said Mabel, with a blush; "but I thought I could 
 not start for Europe without seeing you again. 
 Here is a book I brought you," she added, taking 
 a handsomely bound book out of her handbag and 
 handing it to Allan's mother. 
 
 It was a copy of "The Story of Ann Rutledge," 
 an edition de luxe of which had just been issued. 
 
 "Thank you; thank you, very much," said Mrs. 
 Rutledge, as she looked at the volume. "I have 
 heard of this book and I am so glad to get it. I 
 knew the world would some day appreciate the 
 story of Ann Rutledge." 
 
 "It is a most interesting book, and it is being 
 very widely read," answered Mabel. "Ann Rut- 
 ledge seems a relative of mine now." 
 
 "Would that she might be !" said Allan, who 
 was standing close by and who noticed the tender- 
 ness in Mabel's voice when she referred to the 
 woman who won Abraham Lincoln's love, but he 
 repeated these words within his own heart. Noth- 
 ing but a sigh escaped his lips. 
 
 When they gathered for dinner, Allan found his 
 brothers were greatly excited over the husking 
 contest which had begun that morning. The two 
 contestants had gathered about an equal number 
 of bushels during the morning, but Paul Rutledge 
 w^s confident of victory. 
 
 "I am still as fresh as a daisy," he said, as he 
 arose from the table ui>d took a brief rest. Thirty 
 minutes was allowed for dinner.
 
 266 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 "We will be out in the field this afternoon to 
 watch the close of the contest/' said Allan, as Paul 
 went out "I wish you success." 
 
 The work of husking corn, rapidly, requires skill 
 and endurance. The husker rips open the shucks 
 which protect the growing corn with one hand, 
 grasping the ear of corn with the other, and deftly 
 breaks it off the stem, leaving the shucks hanging 
 empty on the stalk. Every ear of corn in all the 
 millions upon millions of bushels grown in the 
 Middle West is gathered in this way, ear by ear, 
 every fall. It is an enormous task, as it is a large 
 day's work for the average husker to gather eighty 
 bushels in one day. 
 
 The monotony of corn gathering is varied occa- 
 sionally by some such contest as was going on 
 that day on the Rutledge farm. At these contests 
 the amount of corn gathered by one man is often 
 remarkable. On this occasion, the two contestants, 
 Paul Rutledge and Roger Manning, a neighboring 
 farmer's son, were gathering in the same field, but 
 they had begun at opposite sides, so as not to in- 
 terfere with one another. As the afternoon wore 
 on the spectators increased, until they were lining 
 the field. As is always the case, both of the rivals 
 had their friends, and there was much speculation 
 as to the winner. Mabel Grayson had never seen 
 such a contest before and she was greatly inter- 
 ested. 
 
 Both of the huskers were attended by two 
 wagons, which were kept busy hauling away the 
 corn. An accurate account of the number of bush- 
 els gathered by each was kept and a report was
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 267 
 
 made at regular intervals, as in games like base- 
 ball. Both of the young men were breaking off 
 the corn with remarkable quickness. They were 
 a well matched pair, and the outcome, in spite of 
 Paul's confidence, was doubtful. Within an hour 
 of quitting time the race was still neck to neck. 
 The rivals increased their speed. 
 
 "Just half an hour to quitting time!" shouted 
 the judge of the contest. 
 
 The young men were now working like demons. 
 They were clad only in shirt and overalls. The 
 corn was rattling into the wagons like hail on a 
 roof. The gloves, which all huskers wear to pro- 
 tect their hands, were being changed again and 
 again, as they soon tore them to tatters. The 
 judge mounted a wagon to make another an- 
 nouncement. 
 
 "There are fifteen minutes' time left!' he cried. 
 "Both have exactly 125 bushels. 
 
 This was a record-breaking score, and showed 
 that the two rivals were the choice corn huskers 
 of the neighborhood. Paul Rutledge had some of 
 his elder brother's determination, and he threw 
 himself on the cornstalks with a fury that resem- 
 bled that of Richard Coeur de Lion hurling him- 
 self against the hosts of the Saladin. His arms 
 flew faster and faster. He was making a final 
 spurt, determined to win the goal or die in the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 ^Look at Paul!" said Mabel to Allan. "How 
 can he do it?" 
 
 Anyone could see he was using every ounce of 
 energy in his body. His breath was coming in
 
 268 TEE VICTORY OF. 
 
 short gasps. His face was red, streaming with 
 perspiration. His hair was disheveled, his shirt 
 wet through with sweat. Friends held a dipper 
 of water in front of him occasionally and he lapped 
 out of it, without ceasing a moment in his strenu- 
 ous battle with the ears of corn. 
 
 But Roger Manning was also determined. It 
 was a battle royal. Greek had met Greek. As in 
 former days, when knights of equal valor met in 
 the tournament and were at last compelled to fin- 
 ish with honors even, so it seemed that the husk- 
 ing contest was to end in a draw. The crowd 
 closed in around the boys and cheered them on. 
 They were struggling now almost side by side. 
 
 "Five minutes more!" shouted the judge, hold- 
 ing his watch in his hand. 
 
 The excitement was intense. Not a sound was 
 heard except the "snap" of ears of corn, as they 
 broke off from the stalk, and their rattle as they 
 fell into the wagons, thrown there wildly by the 
 now desperate contestants. 
 
 The veins stood out on Paul's temples like whip- 
 cords. His eyes blazed with fire and determina- 
 tion. Allan was close beside him, whispering en- 
 couragement. 
 
 "Steady, Paul; keep up that swing and victory 
 is yours. Steady," he whispered again, as Paul 
 almost missed an ear in his mad onward rush from 
 stalk to stalk. 
 
 Faster and still faster flew his hands. One was 
 reminded of Robert Burns' description of the mid- 
 night dancers in Alloway Kirk, when the aston- 
 ished Tom o' Shanter
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 269 
 
 "glower'd amazed and curious, 
 And mirth and fun grew fast and furious: 
 The piper loud and louder blew: 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew: 
 They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit, 
 Till ilka carlin sweat and reekit." 
 
 Such was the scene as Paul Rutledge and Roger 
 Manning finished their long remembered husking 
 contest, amid the crowd of neighbors, mute with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Time!" yelled the judge, and Paul stopped with 
 a strong effort. He would have fallen to the 
 ground had not Allan's strong arm grasped him. 
 
 "You have won!" said Allan in his ear. "You 
 made a full five bushels in that last fifteen min- 
 utes. It was grand!" 
 
 In a few minutes the judge announced the result 
 of the contest: "Paul Rutledge, 130 bushels; Roger, 
 Manning, 128 bushels." 
 
 Cheers rent the air, even Mannings' friends 
 joining in the applause and congratulations to the 
 plucky winner. Paul's chums shouldered him and 
 bore him in triumph out of the cornfield with as 
 much enthusiasm as greeted the winner of the far- 
 famed Marathon races on the Corinthian isthmus. 
 
 The next morning Mabel Grayson left for her 
 home in Des Moines. Allan drove her to the sta- 
 tion in the family carriage, his father and mother 
 accompanying them. To the very last Allan felt 
 that Mabel treated him with a distant reserve. 
 
 As the train bearing her away from him, per- 
 haps forever, pulled out of the station, his hungry
 
 270 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 heart said : "Ah, if she. only knew, she would have 
 given me, at least, one last word!" 
 
 How little we know oftentimes about the inward 
 thoughts of others! At that very moment on the 
 train Mabel Grayson's fair head leaned heavily on 
 her hand. Tears were trickling from her eyes. 
 Oh, Allan, Allan!" she moaned to herself, "I fear 
 I can never forget you, but neither Grace nor you 
 shall ever know." 
 
 And their misunderstanding all came about 
 through Frederick Markley's light remarks about 
 the Wellington minister the day he called on Mabel 
 Grayson at her father's home. This had prepared 
 her mind to accept the conclusion that he was en- 
 gaged to Grace Markley, a conclusion which a let- 
 ter from that lady herself had unwittingly served 
 to confirm.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 FRANK ANTOL'S FATEFUL DISCOVERY. 
 
 Allan Rutledge returned from his father's farm 
 in a discouraged mood. His unexpected meeting 
 with Mabel Grayson made him more wretched 
 than before. He had fresh proof in this meeting 
 that, though she regarded him as a friend, any 
 attempt on his part to win a nearer claim would 
 be studiously repelled by her. He was in his 
 study one Friday morning, preparing his message 
 for the coming Sabbath morning. He was study- 
 ing a theme that always heretofore had warmed 
 his heart, for he had chosen as his text, "The king- 
 dom of God is amongst you"; but he could not 
 concentrate his mind on his task. He found his 
 thoughts wandering to the Des Moines River. He 
 could see the camp fire blazing and hear Mabel 
 Grayson again, singing with all the pathos in her 
 soul the song of Burns: 
 
 "How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 And I sae weary, fu' o' care." 
 
 Jlis day dream was rudely interrupted. Without 
 any preliminary warning, without a knock, the 
 door of his study was flung open and Frank Antol 
 
 271
 
 272 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 bounded in with the air of a man fleeing- for his 
 life. His hat was gone. His eyes were staring. 
 He was breathless and unable to speak, as he stop- 
 ped in front of Allan and pushed a postal-card and 
 a worn piece of paper into the hands of the startled 
 minister. 
 
 "What's the matter, Frank?" exclaimed Allan, 
 taking the papers out of his trembling hand and 
 rising to his feet. 
 
 "Read ! read !" gasped the youth. 
 
 "Sit down ! sit down !" responded the minister, 
 recovering his own self-control and assisting the 
 exhausted boy to a chair. He sat watching Allan 
 with glaring eyes as the minister began to read 
 the postal card. At a glance Allan understood. 
 He saw at once that the writing on the postal-card 
 was the same peculiar handwriting that was on the 
 note Frank's sister had received on the day of her 
 tragic death. The other paper which Frank Antol 
 handed him, was this very note, so that there could 
 be no mistake. It was a peculiar kind of feigned 1 
 writing, and the same hand had written both note 
 and postal-card. The secret was revealed. The 
 time had come for the vindication of Viola Antol's 
 honor, and for vengeance on her destroyer. The 
 harvest of sin had come, bringing with it an awful 
 damnation. Utterly ignorant as yet of the whole 
 truth, but assured that another tragedy was about 
 to blacken the Wellington sky, Allan Rutledge 
 groaned and covered his face with his hands. The 
 boy regained his composure somewhat and began 
 his story. 
 
 "It was just a few minutes ago I found out," he
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 273 
 
 gasped, and Allan could see that even his teeth 
 chattered in his agitation. "I was in the office 
 alone and Frederick Markley came in. He just 
 returned from the South yesterday. He asked for 
 a postal-card and I handed it to him. He wrote on 
 the card and handed it back to me to put in the 
 mail box. I glanced at the writing, by accident, 
 and I almost fainted. It was identically the same 
 as that on Viola's note. To make sure there was 
 no mistake I took out the note, which I always 
 have carried with me, and then I realized that 
 Frederick Markley was my sister's murderer. I 
 lost all self-control as the truth dawned on me. I 
 gave a wild cry and rushed from the office, coming 
 directly to you. Only one thing saved his life. I 
 remembered he was Grace Markley's brother. 
 What shall I do sir? Oh, what shall I do?" 
 
 Allan examined the postal-card again. It was a 
 note to a boon companion of young Markley's at 
 Des Moines, and was signed "Fred." The hand- 
 writing was disguised exactly the same as that on 
 Viola's note. There was no mistake possible. 
 Frederick Markley was Viola's murderer ! 
 
 "He cannot live ! he cannot live !" cried Viola's 
 brother, and in Allan's ears the words sounded as 
 the cry of Vengeance. 
 
 "Frank," said the minister, after a pause, "leave 
 this all with me. Go home and pray. You are not 
 God's minister of vengeance. Any wrong act by 
 you now would only rob your father and mother of 
 tneir son, who is their sole remaining comfort and 
 hope. I must think myself before I decide what 
 my duty is. Trust me, rny boy."
 
 274 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 As he spoke these last words Allan put out his 
 hand in sympathy. Frank Antol arose and grasped 
 it, and bowing his head on their clasped hands, he 
 gave way to an outburst of weeping so violent that 
 the minister had to support him or he would have 
 fallen to the floor. 
 
 "My God ! O my God, help me !" groaned the 
 youth as he sank back again into his chair. 
 
 The minister understood the awful struggle go- 
 ing on in the heart of the youth. The young 
 Bohemian's wild nature, handed down to him from 
 his ancestors, was unchained and clamoring for 
 vengeance, but his Christian conscience was wak- 
 ing up his better self, and the fearful battle in his 
 soul between passion and conscience was terrible 
 to witness. 
 
 In silent sympathy, Allan stood by his side, his 
 arm around his neck, his eyes wet with tears. Not 
 a v, ord was spoken for fully ten minutes. Ah, into 
 ten minutes sometimes is crowded the experience 
 of years! Calmed, strengthened, assured by the 
 strong, righteous, trusted man who stood beside 
 him, Frank Antol's nobler life won the day. The 
 lion within him which roared for its prey was 
 chained again. 
 
 "I will go home," at length he said, speaking 
 very slowly, "and tell my mother all. She will 
 help me." And then he added : "Poor Miss Grace ! 
 Think of her!" 
 
 Without another word he left, and Allan Rut- 
 ledge was alone with one of the most soul-distress- 
 ing problems that mortal man ever faced. He laid 
 the two damning documents on his desk the
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 275 
 
 postal-card signed "Fred," which Frank Antol had 
 seen Frederick Markley write, and the note which 
 Frank had found in Viola's room. 
 
 What was he to do? "Poor Miss Grace! Think 
 of her!" The youth's last words rang in his ears. 
 He was thinking of her, of the awful disgrace that 
 would be hers when her brother was arrested for 
 murder, of her agony of soul over her brother's 
 crime. 
 
 Then began his own struggle. A verse from the 
 Book which guided his life flashed through his 
 mind: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 "Why need you do anything about this whole 
 matter," whispered an insinuating voice in his 
 soul. "God is the just Judge. Keep all quiet. 
 Hush the matter up. Remember Grace Markley, 
 your church and the community. Do not stir up 
 scandal. Love covers sin." 
 
 "Get thee behind me, Satan," said the Welling- 
 ton minister, the successor of Doctor Anning, ris- 
 ing and looking around as though seeking to find 
 his adversary and hurl him from his presence. As 
 he thought of those dread moments afterward, 
 Allan Rutledge recalled to his mind the incident in 
 Martin Luther's life which Carlyle describes so 
 graphically: "In the room of the Wartburg, where 
 he sat translating the Bible, they still show you a 
 black spot on the wall the strange memorial of 
 ^>ne of Luther's conflicts. Luther sat translating 
 one of the Psalms; he was worn down with long- 
 labor and abstinence from food; there rose before 
 him some hideous, indefinable image, which he took
 
 276 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 for the Evil One, to forbid his work. Luther start- 
 ed up, with fiend defiance, flung his inkstand at the 
 specter, and it disappeared. The spot still remains 
 there, a curious monument of several things." The 
 black spot testifies to the white soul of the German 
 reformer, who refused, even in thought, to com- 
 promise with evil. 
 
 When Allan Rutledge had thus defied the in- 
 sinuating voice within him, a nobler word came to 
 his perplexed mind. Longfellow's couplet was re- 
 membered : 
 
 "Leave unto the Lord the rest. 
 Do thy duty, that is best:" 
 
 As the minister continued in deep thought, still 
 another voice spoke. He bow r ed his head in rever- 
 ence and he seemed to hear the great War Presi- 
 dent himself speak in his ear these words : "With 
 malice toward none, with charity for all, with firm- 
 ness in the right, as God gives me to see the 
 right." 
 
 Allan Rutledge had determined on his course of 
 conduct. "I shall see Frederick Markley himself," 
 he decided. "The laws of our land must be honor- 
 ed. The unfortunate man must answer for his 
 crime to God's ministers of justice on earth." 
 
 When he had finally made up his mind, Allan 
 felt a wonderful relief. His pathway was still 
 rough enough, but he could see plainly the path in 
 which he must walk. A secret source of strength 
 seemed to impart energy to his life the moment he 
 decided to do the right, regardless of cost or conse-
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 277 
 
 quence. Shortly after dinner he called up the 
 Markley home on the telephone. Grace answered 
 the call. 
 
 "Can I speak to Frederick?" asked Allan. 
 
 "Certainly," she replied. "He came home yes- 
 terday. Here he is." 
 
 "Can you meet me at the officers' room in the 
 church at two o'clock to-day?" asked the minister 
 of Frederick Markley. "I have a matter of great 
 importance to talk over with you." 
 
 Frank Antol's conduct at the office in the morn- 
 ing had created a panic in young Markley's soul. 
 He had a presentiment that the coils were tighten- 
 ing around him. 
 
 "All right," he answered, and Allan noticed dis- 
 tinctly the tremble in his voice. 
 
 At two o'clock the two men met in the officers' 
 room at the church. It was a pathetic scene. 
 Broken in health, hounded by his evil genius, 
 [Jamison White, tortured by an aroused conscience 
 and now confronted with his awful crime against 
 Viola Antol, Frederick Markley quailed in terror 
 before Allan Rutledge, as the minister of the Wel- 
 lington Church asked the former choir leader for a 
 full confession. 
 
 "I will tell you all, sir !" he exclaimed ; "but save 
 me ! oh, save me !" 
 
 "Tell me your story," said Allan gravely. 
 
 And the wretched man told it all. He told of 
 /iis sin against the Frisbie home and of his rela- 
 tions with Jamison White. He related, in full, the 
 tragedy of Viola Antol's betrayal and death. As 
 [Allan listened to the man's story of his moral mad-
 
 278 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 ness, its recital called forth a response from every 
 emotion in the gamut of his soul. He was stirred 
 with pity for the wrecked life before him. He 
 boiled with indignation at Viola's wrongs. His 
 heart bled in sympathy with the members of the 
 two homes which this man's sin had desolated. 
 After all, the story was not an unusual one. Tir- 
 ing of Mrs. Frisbie, Frederick Markley had been 
 attracted by the rare beauty of Viola Antol. He 
 began paying her attentions and seeking to win 
 her regard. Although the difference in their social 
 station was so great, they met on equal terms at 
 the church, and especially at choir practices. This 
 sin-blinded son of wealthy American parents de- 
 liberately sought the ruin of the pure, simple- 
 minded, sincere, Christian foreigner. He won 
 Viola's confidence. He asked her hand in mar- 
 riage, leading her on step by step, desiring first a 
 secret wedding, that his parents might not inter- 
 fere. At a mock wedding, in which Jamison White 
 acted as a justice of the peace, the unfortunate 
 Viola was finally ensnared. She dreamed of no 
 wrong. Markley told her it was a common prac- 
 tice in America to observe secret weddings in such 
 cases as theirs. 
 
 She began to doubt him for the first time when 
 she found he did not keep his word about making 
 the wedding public in a few weeks, as he had 
 promised. Slowly it dawned upon her mind that 
 Frederick Markley was not the Christian man he 
 professed himself to be and which she had 
 imagined he was. But she had no doubt of the 
 legality of her marriage to him. She was insisting
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 279 
 
 on him keeping his promise about making the wed- 
 ding public the evening that Dr. Anning heard 
 them talking in the church. 
 
 "She was a guileless, innocent child," said her 
 cruel betrayer, as he confessed to Allan. "She 
 never dreamed of wrong. Sin was impossible to 
 her. But I was blinded and maddened. I wanted 
 to get rid of her. When we met at the railroad 
 'bend' I told her our marriage was a mock mar- 
 riage, but she refused to believe it. 'In the sight of 
 God, Frederick,' she sobbed to me, 'I am your 
 wife.' 
 
 "She insisted on telling Dr. Anning the whole 
 truth about our relations. I was desperate and I 
 shot her. I did it with her father's gun, which I' 
 had borrowed from her some time previous on 
 pretense that I wanted to see what Bohemian fire- 
 arms were like. Life has been a hell to me ever 
 since. Her last words have rung in my ears night 
 and day. She said, 'Frederick, I forgive you.' " 
 
 Allan Rutledge looked steadfastly at the wretch- 
 ed man before him, as he told the story of his black 
 life and awful crime. His dark eyes gleamed in 
 fury as the hideous tragedy of ungoverned passion 
 showed him the awful depths to which a man can 
 fall, but not a word passed his lips. 
 
 "I swear to God," continued young Markley, 
 quailing again under the steady glance of the 
 minister's piercing eyes, "I swear to God I was not 
 responsible. I did not know what I was doing." 
 
 "Frederick Markley," said the minister slowly, 
 and his voice sounded hollow and strange, "you 
 are guilty of crimes I had not believed to be pos-
 
 280 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 sible, but I am not your judge. There is only one 
 thing for you to do. Go to our county attorney 
 and confess fully your crime to him, and give your- 
 self up to justice, and may God have mercy on 
 your soul." 
 
 "I cannot face it! Save me, Mr. Rutledge!" 
 pleaded the son of Elder Markley. 
 
 "I cannot save you. You must surrender to jus- 
 tice. If you do not confess yourself, I must tell 
 the officers." 
 
 "Have mercy! have mercy! Think of my father 
 and mother, and my sister, Grace. Can I not be- 
 gin life again somewhere else?" 
 
 His abject helplessness appealed to Allan Rut- 
 ledge more than his words. 
 
 "I would help you if I could," responded the 
 minister. "I do not forget your sister or your 
 family, but I also remember Viola Antol and her 
 family. I remember my duty as a man and as a 
 citizen. I remember the law of God. You must 
 deliver yourself over to the authorities." 
 
 "I cannot!" moaned the wretched man. "I will 
 go anywhere, but I cannot endure a trial for Viola 
 Antol's murder!" 
 
 "You must!" said Allan Rutledge gravely but 
 decidedly. "I will wait until to-morrow noon. If 
 you have not confessed your crime then to the 
 officers, I shall lay this evidence before them," and 
 he held up the postal-card and the note which 
 Frank Antol had given him. 
 
 Frederick Markley shuddered, but made no 
 reply. Deep down in his heart the minister had 
 a great pity for the unfortunate young man. Like
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 281 
 
 Tito Melema, in the story of "Romola," Frederick 
 Markley had gone down step by step until he had 
 reached the lowest rung on the ladder of degrada- 
 tion and wickedness, yet he had begun his down- 
 ward career wholly unconscious of its end. All 
 he had desired was a pleasant time, and by simply 
 living for pleasure he had made his life a horrible 
 and almost unbelievable wreck, and had brought 
 agony and torture to his nearest friends. 
 
 "Though I abhor your crime," said the minister, 
 "I am sincerely sorry for you. You will find me 
 your true friend. Make your peace with man by 
 submitting to justice, and get right with God by 
 giving him what is left of your life. Remain here 
 alone for a while and think it all over. I will see 
 you again to-morrow." 
 
 And Allan Rutledge passed out, leaving Fred- 
 erick Markley alone in the officers' room in the 
 church, the very room in which for over fifteen 
 years Elder Markley had repressed every sincere 
 effort on Dr. Anning's part to make the Wellington 
 Church a real place of prayer and worship. 
 Justice had begun to demand its vengeance, and 
 all Wellington was soon shuddering at the fearful 
 price men must pay who defy the laws of God and 
 man.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 
 
 When Allan Rutledge left the church, after hear- 
 ing young Markley's confession, he went im- 
 mediately to the Antol cottage. He found the en- 
 tire family at home, sitting in stunned silence. 
 Frank had told his father of his discovery when 
 he returned home for dinner at noon and Mr. 
 Antol did not go back to the factory. 
 
 As gently as he could, Allan told the family the 
 whole tragedy of their daughter's life. He repeat- 
 ed, almost word for word, Frederick Markley's 
 confession, including even Viola's last words. 
 
 Amid her tears Mrs. Antol told of her unshaken 
 confidence in Viola and of her full assurance of 
 her entire innocence of crime. "She was an angel, 
 Mr. Rutledge. I wish you could have met her. 
 
 She never dreamed of evil. She used to sing " 
 
 But the mother's emotion overpowered her, and 
 Allan said tenderly: "She awaits you in the better 
 world, where all earth's sorrows are healed." 
 
 Allan left them with the assurance that Viola's 
 honor would be publicly vindicated and her wrongs 
 requited by law. 
 
 That night he could not sleep. Until long after 
 midnight he sat in his study reflecting over the 
 
 282
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 283 
 
 developments of that awful day. The bitterest 
 thought of all was that Wellington Church was, 
 in a measure, responsible for the tragedy. That 
 the Church of God should thus be used in doing 
 the work of hell was a fearful blow to his own 
 faith. 
 
 Frederick Markley was the son of the leading 
 officer in the church. He was a highly educated, 
 cultured and wealthy young American. As the 
 director of the church choir, and the leader ot tlie 
 young people in the church, it was no wonder that 
 Viola was deceived. To her he was, at first, the 
 embodiment of all that was best and most attrac- 
 tive in American life. His attentions to her flat- 
 tered the maiden's heart and won her entire con- 
 fidence. 
 
 Then the villian had unmasked himself. As 
 Allan thought of young Markley, a supposed rep- 
 resentative of the highest development of Ameri- 
 can civilization and Christianity, ensnaring, betray- 
 ing and murdering the pure-minded, innocent, for- 
 eign girl, everything that was manly and noble in 
 his nature roused him to a passion of indignation. 
 
 "Think of it!" he exclaimed aloud, as he arose 
 and paced around his study. "Is Frederick Mark- 
 ley the final product of our boasted land of liberty? 
 Does American success mean such renegades as 
 this devil-possessed man proves himself to be? If 
 so, I hate American civilization; I hate American 
 Christianity. I prefer the savage wildness of the 
 ignorant Hottentot to such hypocrisy and base- 
 ness." 
 
 Then the thought of Grace Markley, Frederick's
 
 284 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 sister, came to his mind. What a contrast! A 
 light broke over his face. 
 
 "I see it!" at last he exclaimed aloud. "Grace 
 Markley, not her hapless brother, represents 
 American civilization and American Christianity. 
 Frederick reverted to the savage type. He stands 
 not for the ripe, but for the rotten fruit of our in- 
 stitutions. I must not blame the sins of this 
 modern Judas on our Christian churches." 
 
 "Joseph Cook, of Boston, was right," he went 
 on, speaking aloud to himself, and finding a relief 
 in utterance. "The curse of American Christianity 
 to-day is the 'unhung Judas.' The base hypocrite 
 betrays his Lord to-day and then keeps on in lead- 
 ership in the Church. Judas Iscariot was manly 
 enough to hang himself, and honest, God-fearing 
 men, like Peter and John, were the early leaders of 
 the Christian Church, but in America oftentimes 
 some 'unhung Judas' lords it over the Christian 
 people, and brings disgrace and shame on the en- 
 tire Church." 
 
 Then, in the bitterness of his soul, he exclaimed : 
 "What a blessing to the kingdom of Christ in 
 America to-day if every Judas would follow the 
 example of Iscariot and go and hang himself. The 
 curse and pollution and weakness of our American 
 church life would be at once removed." 
 
 It was almost morning when, utterly worn out 
 with such disquieting and strange reasonings in 
 his soul, the Wellington minister sought repose. 
 But even in his sleep the tragic occurrences of the 
 previous day pursued him. He dreamed he was in 
 a ship, lost in a fog, on a stormy sea. Suddenly a
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 265 
 
 clanging of bells was heard telling of the fatal 
 rocks close at hand, and before the course of the 
 ship could be changed there was a crash. 
 
 He awoke with a start. The telephone bell was 
 ringing loudly in the study. It rang again louder 
 than ever. He arose as quickly as he could and 
 partially dressed himself. A sudden fear clutched 
 his heart as he took down the receiver of the 
 telephone. 
 
 "This is Grace Markley," said a trembling voice. 
 "Come to our house, quickly!" 
 
 That was all. Allan looked at his watch. It 
 was just six o'clock. Day was beginning to break. 
 Hastily finishing his dressing, he ran through the 
 deserted streets to the Markley mansion. At the 
 door Grace met him, and her face told the story. 
 Wellington had another tragedy. 
 
 "Frederick is dead!" was all she could say, and 
 she led the way upstairs to the young man's room. 
 
 There on the bed, on the top of the undisturbed 
 bedclothes, lay the dead body of Frederick Mark- 
 ley. His life-blood, flowing from an awful wound 
 in his head, had stained with its crimson red the 
 snow-white bedspread. He was dressed exactly 
 as when Allan had seen him last. Elder Markley 
 was sitting, as in a stupor, on a chair by the side 
 of the bed. Mrs. Markley was weeping hysteri- 
 cally as she hung helplessly over the brass rail at 
 the foot. 
 
 Ob Allan looked around he saw a paper on the 
 dressing table in front of the looking-glass. It 
 proved to be the suicide's confession. Four words 
 came to the young minister as the full meaning
 
 286 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 of the tragic scene forced itself into, his mind. As 
 plainly as though printed in large, fiery letters he 
 could read all over that room those four words. He 
 saw them in the crimson life-blood, staining the 
 bedclothes. He saw them in the blood-stained face 
 of the former choir leader of the Wellington 
 Church. He saw them on the dressing table, 
 where young Markley's confession of sin lay. Over 
 the pictures of the actresses which hung on the 
 walls, on the floor, on the ceiling, Allan read every- 
 where "The wages of sin." 
 
 "Oh, Frederick, my son, my son! Would God I 
 had died for you ! Oh, Frederick, my son, my son !" 
 
 Elder Markley's voice rose in a wail of despair 
 as he uttered these words. The old heart-sob of 
 David, the hapless father of Absalom, has been 
 wrung from many a parent's lips since the time 
 that the broken-hearted poet-king gave way to his 
 natural grief. 
 
 At the sound of her husband's cry, Mrs. Markley 
 screamed, and fell in a swoon over the foot of the 
 bed. Grace Markley threw herself across the life- 
 less body of her brother in an agony of grief. 
 
 Allan Rutledge awoke out of his stunned help- 
 lessness. Servants were at the door and he mo- 
 tioned them to enter. With their help Mrs. Mark- 
 ley was carried into an adjoining room. Dr. Lucas, 
 who arrived just as they were carrying her out of 
 her son's room, gave one glance at Frederick, 
 touched his cold hand, and then followed Mrs. 
 Markley, applying restoratives. The sister was 
 also gently removed, and Mr. Markley, walking like 
 a man in a dream, was helped downstairs.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 287 
 
 "He has been dead six hours at least," said Dr. 
 Lucas to Allan. "Death was instantaneous. Is it 
 not strange and terrible?" 
 
 "Terrible, but not strange, Dr. Lucas," answered 
 the minister. "Poor Frederick sewed to the wind, 
 and he has reaped the whirlwind." As 'he spoke, 
 Allan pointed to the dead man's written confession, 
 which lay on the dressing table. The doctor 
 glanced it over and replied: "I saw the poor fellow 
 go down the railroad track to the fatal bend just 
 about dusk yesterday." 
 
 At the inquest the full facts of the tragedy came 
 out. The honor of Viola Antol was vindicated, 
 but all Wellington shuddered as they learned 
 young Markley's story. 
 
 After Allan had left the young murderer at the 
 church, Frederick Markley remained there alone 
 for fully two hours. Then he went home, but 
 spoke to no one, going to his own room. It was 
 at this time he wrote out the confession he had 
 left behind him. About dusk he went out again 
 and went down the railroad tracks, evidently visit- 
 ing again the place where Viola had met her fate. 
 He came back home after all had retired for the 
 night, but as the family was used to his irregular 
 habits, no one thought anything about it. He had 
 fired the fatal shot about midnight, launching his 
 crimson-stained soul ' into eternity in a moment. 
 No one heard the pistol discharged and the terrible 
 dee<J> was discovered first by Grace Markley. 
 
 Roused from sleep by a hideous dream in the 
 early morn, she felt a feeling of alarm in her heart 
 for her brother. Not knowing whether he had
 
 288 THE VICTORY OF, 
 
 returned home the previous night or not, she 
 dressed herself and knocked at his door. There 
 was no response. After a still louder knock, she 
 walked in and there saw the tragedy. She at once 
 roused the household and telephoned to Mr. Rut- 
 ledge and the doctor. 
 
 The funeral of the young suicide was the saddest 
 service that Allan Rutledge ever attended. The 
 new president of the college, Dr. Shepherd, assist- 
 ed the minister. Only the immediate friends of 
 the family were present. Elder Markley, still stun- 
 ned and helpless, did not seem to realize the cir- 
 cumstances. Mrs. Markley was completely broken 
 in her grief. Poor Grace fainted dead away while 
 the brief obituary was being read. As tenderly 
 as they could both the minister and the college 
 president commended the stricken family to the 
 loving care of the heavenly Father, who "numbers 
 even the hairs of our head," and who is "afflicted 
 in all our afflictions." Allan gave a brief talk from 
 the words: "What I do thou knowest not now, 
 but thou shalt know hereafter." 
 
 Thus, in a suicide's grave, with the shadow of 
 crime and the stain of sin on his memory, the son 
 of the leading elder in the Wellington Church was 
 laid away to await the resurrection of the just and 
 unjust. 
 
 No son could have shown more tender attention 
 to the stricken parents than Allan Rutledge did 
 during the following weeks. He called at the 
 Markley mansion almost daily. The entire family 
 was prostrated and entirely unnerved by the 
 tragedy. The first to recover herself was Grace,
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 289 
 
 whose Christian faith soon enabled her to bow 
 before the providence of God, saying: "Not my 
 will but thine be done." Allan thought at first that 
 [Elder Markley would not survive the shock. But 
 time, the healer of so many wounds, gradually 
 wrought its therapeutic wonders in the case ot 
 this stricken father. The young minister soon dis- 
 covered, as Elder Markley began to rally, that he 
 was a changed man. His entire outlook on life had 
 altered. The old, greedy, selfish, covetous spirit 
 was gone. To Allan's amazement and delight. 
 Elder Markley grew more and more like his daugh- 
 ter, Grace. She was now his constant companion 
 and his chief support. There was one result of 
 young Markley's tragic end for which Wellington 
 was thankful. A few days after the funeral Allan 
 called on the county attorney, Clarkson Maynard. 
 Mr. Maynard was one of the rising young poli- 
 ticians of the district, a brilliant lawyer and a sin- 
 cere Christian man. He was a loyal and warm 
 personal friend of Allan Rutledge, and through the 
 college trouble Allan had no more ardent supporter 
 than Clarkson Maynard. 
 
 "Mr. Maynard/ said the minister to the attorney, 
 as he showed him young Markley's confession, 
 "you will see there a most serious charge against 
 [Jamison White. What ought to be done about it?" 
 
 The county attorney at once read the confession 
 carefully, and then responded: "I shall proceed at 
 one to investigate. I have wondered where that 
 fellow, White, got his money lately. He is a dis- 
 grace to the legal profession, as all the members 
 of the Wellington Bar have felt for some time."
 
 290 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 But Jamison White keard in some way that the 
 officers of justice were on his trail, and the next 
 day he left Wellington for good. He was never 
 heard of again. "A good riddance !" was the uni- 
 versal comment when his disappearance became 
 known to the public, and if he is hereafter ever 
 found, there may be legal proceedings in his case 
 that will greatly interest the public, and which 
 without doubt, will land the unprincipled young 
 lawyer remorselessly in a convict's cell. 
 
 It was several months after this that Grace 
 Markley telephoned one day to Allan Rutledge, 
 saying that her father wanted to see him on some 
 important business matter. The young minister 
 at once started for the Markley home, and found 
 Elder Markley in a better state of mind than he 
 had ever seen him before. He was almost cheerful 
 and happy in his cordial greetings. As Elder 
 Markley went on to speak of the business matter 
 on which he wished to consult with Allan, the 
 young minister was astonished, and ever afterward 
 he saw in this interview a new proof that nothing 
 is impossible with God, and that even in such ter- 
 rible calamities for those who believe in Him, it 
 will be found at last that the Scriptures are true, 
 and that "all things work together for good."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 BROKEN-HEARTED AND PENITENT. 
 
 "I say, Pat, why are you in such a hurry with 
 that job? You remind me of a candidate running 
 for a county office." 
 
 Foreman McGregor smiled as he addressed Pat? 
 McGinnis one day in this way in the paint shop 
 of the Markley factory. The Irishman was paint- 
 ing a large wheel, and he was making the brush 
 fly wildly over the spokes, his arm working like 
 the piston rod of an engine. 
 
 "Faith, now," he replied, "I have this big wheel 
 to paint, and only a drap o' paint in me bucket and 
 I'm hurrin' up to get through before the paint 
 gives out." 
 
 "Veil, veil, he iss an Irishman, sure ting," ejacu- 
 lated Jake Borner, the little Dutchman as all the 
 men in the paint shop roared with laughter. 
 
 "I say, Pat," went on McGregor, "would you 
 work as hard as that if you were working for your- 
 self?" 
 
 "Begorra, I don't know, but when I work for 
 meself at meal time I always work pretty hard." 
 
 "Well, the boss is going to have us work for 
 ourselves after this," said McGregor. 
 
 "What's that?" asked the men questioningly, 
 stopping in their work and looking at the foreman. 
 
 291
 
 292 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 Mr. Antol was presiding at the dipping vat that 
 morning, and he stopped his work in astonishment, 
 holding a bundle of irons, dripping with paint, in 
 his hands. 
 
 "Yes, he wants us all to meet him to-day at half- 
 past twelve in the shipping room, and he is going 
 to set us all working for ourselves." 
 
 "What does the boss mean by that?" asked 
 McGinnis. 
 
 Just then the noon whistle blew, and the fore- 
 man said, "Come back promptly at 12 130 and you 
 will hear all about it." 
 
 The men departed for the midday meal, wonder- 
 ing what was going to happen. 
 
 This meeting of Markley's workmen, which was 
 called at the noon hour that day was the final re- 
 sult of the conferences which Allan Rutledge had 
 with Elder Markley. On that occasion when Allan 
 had taken his seat, after the cordial greetings by 
 the factory owner, the minister was amazed to hear 
 him say, "Mr. Rutledge, I have asked you here to 
 consult with you about putting my factory on a 
 Christian basis." 
 
 "Yes, sir," continued Elder Markley. "Since I 
 have begun to recover from the shock of my son's 
 death, my dear daughter, Grace, has been devoting 
 herself to me, and she has read over to me the four 
 Gospels in our New Testament. I never knew 
 before what Christianity was. I begin to see that 
 your preaching is exactly the preaching the New 
 Testament demands of every honest minister." 
 
 "I feel to-day like Zacchaeus when Jesus came
 
 293 
 
 into his home and said, 'This day hath salvation 
 come to thine house' " went on Mr. Markley, to 
 the astonished minister, "and I feel like saying, as 
 Zacchaeus did, 'Behold, Lord, the half of my 
 goods I give to the poor.' " 
 
 "I rejoice with you that you have found Jesus 
 Christ," said Allan earnestly. "He always brings 
 salvation." 
 
 After a pause, Elder Markley went on to state 
 that he desired to make some more adequate and 
 just division of the profits of his factory. 
 
 "I see clearly," said the penitent employer, "that 
 I have kept all the cream to myself, and given my 
 men nothing but skimmed milk. I want you to 
 help me work out some plan that will do justice 
 to my workmen." 
 
 Allan was delighted. He saw the factory owner's 
 problem, and he was prepared to help him intelli- 
 gently. He had been reading some articles by 
 Andrew Carnegie on "Labor and Capital," and he 
 had been impressed with the arguments of this suc- 
 cessful Scotchman on behalf of co-partnership be- 
 tween employers and employees. The plan ap- 
 pealed to Allan's sense of justice, and he knew 
 that Mr. Carnegie was a successful man of affairs. 
 
 "Turn your business into a stock company, he 
 explained to Mr. Markley, "and give some of the 
 stock to each of your men. This makes them 
 partners with you, and you all share equally in the 
 profits of the business. Besides making a just 
 division of the profits possible, such an arrange- 
 ment will make each of your men proudly con- 
 scious that he is working in his own factory. It
 
 294 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 will mean new life to your employees and will be 
 an object lesson to the business world." 
 
 As Allan had studied this entire question, he was 
 able to refer to other business men who had 
 adopted this plan, and who found that it worked 
 successfully. Elder Markley was interested and 
 agreed to work out some such scheme. Accord- 
 ingly, after taking the necessary legal steps, he 
 had organized a stock company to own and operate 
 his factory, and he arranged to distribute part of 
 the stock among his old employees. 
 
 In order to make requittal, in some way, to Mr. 
 Frisbie and Frank Antol for the injury done to 
 them by his hapless son, Mr. Markley decided to 
 divide a certain per cent, of the stock between 
 them, making Mr. Frisbie the general manager of 
 the factory and Frank Antol the assistant manager. 
 In spite of his youth Frank had shown himself a 
 remarkably capable young business man. He re- 
 tained a just share of the stock for himself and 
 his family. 
 
 The balance of the stock Mr. Markley decided 
 to distribute among the men, giving several shares 
 to each employee. The noon-day meeting, of 
 which Foreman McGregor spoke, was the occasion 
 on which Elder Markley was to distribute the 
 shares of stock among the men. There had been 
 a previous conference with the foremen, but the 
 men knew nothing of these proposed changes. 
 
 There 'was a feeling of anxiety on the part of 
 the men. Most of them thought that the factory 
 was to be shut down on account of Mr. Markley's 
 ill health. At 12:30 all were gathered in the ship-
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 295 
 
 ping- room. Elder Markley, looking old and feeble, 
 appeared, leaning heavily on Allan Rutledge's arm. 
 
 The minister called the meeting together and 
 made a short introductory speech. He said that 
 Mr. Markley had something to say which he knew 
 would please them all very much. The factory 
 owner arose to speak. He looked over the sea of 
 eager faces and a tear glistened in his eyes. 
 
 "'My brothers," he said at last to the amazed 
 workmen, "I am not a speaker. I cannot give you 
 any address, but I want to thank you all for your 
 good work in the factory, especially during the 
 past year. Times are good. The factory is paying 
 better than ever, and I want to take in some part- 
 ners. I have arranged to take you all in as part- 
 ners with me and the foremen will now distribute 
 to you shares of stock in the Wellington Manufac- 
 turing Company. There are five shares of stock 
 for each of you. This company will own and 
 operate the factory. Mr. Frisbie is the general 
 manager and Frank Antol is his assistant." 
 
 The men were too dazed to say a word, and the 
 different foremen began to hand out the stock cer- 
 tificates, which had all been previously prepared. 
 Allan arose in the tense silence, which was only 
 broken by the rustling of the certificates as they 
 were being handed out. The minister held a cer- 
 tificate of stock in his own hand. 
 
 "Fellow-partners in the Wellington Manufactur- 
 ing Company, he began, "our kind benefactor, Mr. 
 Markley, has asked me to accept a few shares of 
 stock along with you. I am sure you all appreciate 
 this act of his in making you fellow-owners with
 
 296 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 him of this splendid factory. Henceforth you will 
 work for yourselves, as you will all own the factory 
 together. Mr. Markley has turned part of the 
 stock over to you. I trust that your diligent atten- 
 tion to business will show to Mr. Markley and to 
 the community that you are a company of men who 
 can be trusted with the ownership of property." 
 
 The men now began slowly to realize their good 
 fortune. Mr. Steen jumped up and shouted, "Three 
 cheers for our boss, Mr. Markley!" He led them in 
 the English cheer, and three tremendous "Hip-hip- 
 hurrahs !" rent the air. 
 
 Foreman McGregor then arose on behalf of the 
 men and thanked Mr. Markley for his generous 
 action. "This means a new epoch in the life of 
 every employee in this factory," he exclaimed. 
 "We are no longer 'hands.' We are men, and I 
 feel sure we will be able to show ourselves to be 
 men, and capable of owning capital, just as our 
 fathers proved themselves to be capable of enjoy- 
 ing liberty. We have long had democracy in poli- 
 tics. Industrial democracy is now a fact in Wel- 
 lington and Mr. Markley will long be remembered 
 as the man who made this possible." 
 
 When McGregor ceased there was wild applause 
 from the men, showing he had accurately voiced 
 their sentiments. 
 
 Tears were flowing down the cheeks of Elder 
 Markley as he arose again. "I am not entitled to 
 any thanks, my friends," he said simply. "I have 
 lately seen what a failure my whole life has been. 
 I lived only for myself, but, as you all know, a 
 terrible calamity has overtaken me and "
 
 'ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 Here Mr. Markley was compelled to pause, his 
 emotion being too great to allow him to continue. 
 There was not a dry eye in the crowd. Poor Mr. 
 Antol bowed himself in his grief, and the fountain 
 of his own tears was opened. 
 
 "I am learning now from our great Teacher 
 how to live," he went on, as soon as he could 
 recover his speech. "If what I have done has en- 
 couraged any of you, the thanks are due to our 
 Saviour. May God bless you all." 
 
 The strange meeting was over. Every man 
 came forward to grasp Mr. Markley's hand. It 
 was a new experience with the factory owner, and 
 he was astonished at the joy he found in his heart, 
 as these horny-fisted men of toil greeted him, one 
 after the other, with a warm handshake. He had 
 at last "learned the luxury of doing good." All 
 that afternoon the foremen were busy assuring the 
 men that the stock certificates meant a partnership 
 in the business and explaining how the dividends 
 on the stock would be paid semi-annually out of 
 the profits. All the men were jubilant. 
 
 When Pat McGinnis went home that night his 
 w?fe thought he had taken leave of his senses. He 
 kissed his wife's rosy cheek and bowed before her, 
 saying: "An' how is me lady to-night?" Then he 
 caught up the baby out of the cradle and tossed 
 the little fellow in the air. "Shure, it's the son of a 
 gintlemen you are!" he exclaimed, as he laid the 
 startled baby back in the cradle again. "Sarah, 
 rm in business for meself now," at last he ventured 
 to explain to his wife, who was losing all patience 
 with her rollicking spouse.
 
 298 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "What's the matter with you, Pat, at all, at all ?" 
 she exclaimed. "Have ye lost your wits entoire- 
 ly?" 
 
 Pat drew forth his stock certificate, and showed 
 it proudly to his better half. When she under- 
 stood what it meant she was overjoyed. It was 
 not the actual value of the stock certificate that 
 made the men so happy. It was the thought that 
 now, in a measure, they were the fellow-owners of 
 the factory. 
 
 In a hundred homes in Wellington that night 
 there was thanksgiving to God, and a new sense 
 of independence, and a fresh joy and hope. But 
 Elder Markley's benevolence was not exhausted in 
 his gifts of stock certificates to his employees. 
 
 At a called meeting of the officers of the Welling- 
 ton Church, he offered to present to the congrega- 
 tion a new pipe-organ, and to put in a much needed 
 gallery in the church building at his own expense. 
 He also agreed, if the church would build a suit- 
 able residence for the minister, to give one-half of 
 the amount necessary. An arrangement was made 
 at once to accept his generous offers. 
 
 "What does it all mean?" asked Deacon Stan- 
 ford of Allan Rutledge, as they walked home to- 
 gether after this meeting. 
 
 "It means that Grace Markley has led her father 
 to accept the teaching of the New Testament in 
 regard to property," responded the minister. 
 "Sociological problems and all financial difficulties 
 in the Church disappear when men like Markley 
 become real Christians. The shock of his son's 
 death broke his stubborn will, and his daughter has
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 
 
 led him into the light. He is a new man alto- 
 gether." 
 
 "But what's the use of building a fine residence 
 for our minister?" said the deacon a little later. 
 "He seems determined to live a single life. Why; 
 don't you get married, Mr. Rutledge?" 
 
 It was well it was dark, so that the good deacon 
 did not see the look of pain that passed over the 
 minister's face as he was asked this question. 
 
 "My life is lonely, I admit," he answered gravely, 
 "but my time is fully occupied, and the pleasures 
 of home life seem to be denied me. I am trying to 
 devote myself entirely to my life mission." 
 
 Yes, Allan Rutledge was honestly trying to do 
 this, but often a weariness and loneliness over- 
 came him, and his thoughts fled across the sea, in 
 spite of all he could do, to a happy tourist party 
 which was enjoying the delights of a European 
 trip. Amid his splendid success and remarkable 
 ministry in Wellington his own heart was still un- 
 cheered and he often bitterly felt that he had been 
 defeated in one vital instance in his battles with 
 life. Do what he might he could not crush out 
 of his heart the longing he had to see and hear 
 Mabel Grayson again. 
 
 "Do you ever hear from Mabel ?" he asked Grace 
 Markley one day, when he called at her home to 
 see her father and found Grace alone. It was the 
 first time he had mentioned Mabel to her since 
 that day, months before, when she had spoken to 
 him of his mission in life. 
 
 "Not very regularly," she replied. "She wrote 
 me a beautiful letter when she first heard of our
 
 300 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 sorrow, and she has sent me a few postal cards, 
 but she has not written much." 
 
 "The party must be on their way home through 
 Europe now," said Allan. 
 
 "Yes, I think they are now in England. I am 
 going to take a long journey myself after a while." 
 And Grace Markley blushed shyly, as she went on: 
 "I was wanting to see you, Mr. Rutledge, and have 
 a talk with you. Do you remember Lester Gray?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Allan. "I remember him 
 well. He is a fine fellow, and I hear he is a Stu- 
 dent Volunteer." 
 
 "He is going as a missionary to Korea next fall 
 
 and ." here Grace hesitated a moment before 
 
 she went on "and I am going with him. Papa 
 has consented and he is going to undertake Les- 
 ter's support, and make him the missionary pastor 
 of the Wellington Church." 
 
 "I congratulate you most sincerely," exclaimed 
 the minister. "Yours is a noble lifework. There 
 is nothing grander on earth. How happy both of 
 you will be! What are your father and mother 
 going to do?" 
 
 "They will accompany us to Korea and see our 
 station there, and then they plan to return to 
 America and live in California, as they can be 
 nearer to us. We talked it all over last night, and 
 both papa and mamma are willing that I should 
 go to Korea as Lester's wife. We have been en- 
 gaged for some time, but I did not tell anyone ex- 
 cept mamma, as I was afraid papa would never 
 consent to my becoming a missionary." 
 
 "How changed your father is in everything/*
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 301 
 
 remarked the minister. "I would not know him to 
 be the same man." 
 
 "He is not the same man," answered Grace 
 Markley earnestly. "He died when Frederick died, 
 and the life my father now lives is a different life 
 altogether." 
 
 "We can all see it," responded Allan. "Why, 
 here comes your father up the walk!" he added, 
 looking out of the window. 
 
 "I wish to congratulate you, sir," said Allan, 
 after the cordial greetings were over. "Your 
 daughter has been telling me of her plans. I am 
 delighted to know of her noble lifework. Iowa has 
 given several of her most accomplished young* 
 women to missionary work in recent years. Grace 
 tells me that you and Mrs. Markley are to accom- 
 pany them out to Korea when they sail." 
 
 "Yes," replied Elder Markley. "I think the trip 
 will do us both good. Wellington has bitter 
 memories for us, and we think if we take an ocean 
 voyage and then make our home in California, per- 
 haps we can in part, overcome the sorrow that has 
 blighted our lives. But I shall not cease to be in- 
 terested in Wellington," he added, looking earnest- 
 ly at Allan Rutledge. "I owe you a great deal, sir, 
 and I want you to allow me to repay you some- 
 what." 
 
 "What do you owe me?" asked Allan in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 j*l owe you more than I can ever repay," he re- 
 plied, "but I want you to accept from me a two 
 months' trip to Europe as a holiday. I can see 
 that the awful burden of recent months has worn
 
 you down. You need a good rest. I have arranged 
 with the officers of the church to have President 
 Shepherd supply the pulpit for two months and 
 you can take a much needed rest. When can you 
 start?" 
 
 Mr. Markley would take no refusal and the ar- 
 rangements for Allan's trip to Europe were soon 
 completed. In two weeks' time he was on the At- 
 lantic Ocean, bound for Queenstown, as he desired 
 to spend a few days first in Ireland. 
 
 On this voyage of five days for the ocean liners 
 leap through the water nowadays the young 
 minister of Wellington reviewed his battles and 
 victories. 
 
 "Alas !" he sighed one day, as he sat on the deck, 
 his eyes sweeping the billowy deep, "if only I 
 could succeed as Lester Gray has succeeded. But 
 I am still in defeat. My external enemies have all 
 been vanquished, but my heart is bleeding and 
 broken, and my case seems hopeless."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 AT THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY. 
 
 Landing at Queenstown, Ireland, Allan Rutledge 
 spent a day visiting Cork and the famous Blarney 
 Castle, which is five miles from Cork. He then 
 proceeded to the world-renowned Lakes of Killar- 
 ney. These three lovely lakes are situated in the 
 mountains of Kerry, in southern Ireland, and make 
 a rare panorama of scenic beauty. Arriving at the 
 village of Killarney, Allan hired an Irish jaunting 
 car, and drove around the magnificent boulevards 
 of Kenmare Park, which skirts the lakes. In the 
 afternoon he decided to visit the island of Innis- 
 fallen, which is the largest of the sixty islands 
 which float in the charmed Killarney waters. This 
 island has been called "the beautiful miniature 
 of a beautiful country," and, although only 
 twenty-one acres m extent, it is one of the 
 most delightful spots in all the world. The 
 Irish poet, Thomas Moore, has immortalized 
 the little isle in his song, "Sweet Innisfallen, Fare 
 Thee Well." As his boatman rowed alongside of 
 the island, Allan heard voices and knew that some 
 otjjer tourists were enjoying themselves on the 
 island. Anxious to be alone, he requested the 
 boatman to row over to the opposite side of the 
 
 303
 
 304 THE VICTORY OP. 
 
 island, and there he landed in a quiet, shady nook. 
 The boatman sat idly in his little craft, and Allan 
 climbed up on the bank and walked a short dis- 
 tance into the interior of the isle. He was charmed 
 with its sylvan beauty. The day was perfect, and 
 the blue sky above rivaled the laughing blue waters 
 of the lakes. The checkered shade of the trees 
 made a scene of quiet peacefulness that soothed 
 the restless spirit of the Wellington minister. As 
 he was wandering on he suddenly stopped. A few 
 steps in front of him, seated at the foot of a large 
 tree, was a young lady; evidently one of the tour- 
 ist party who had strayed away to enjoy the scen- 
 ery alone. She was seated with her back to Allan, 
 apparently in deep meditation. Allan stepped on 
 a twig just as he stopped, and there was a snap 
 as it broke under his foot. In the silence it sound- 
 ed like the report of a pistol. The young lady 
 hastily turned and Allan Rutledge gave a shout: 
 "Mabel Grayson !" he cried, leaping forward. 
 "Allan Rutledge !" she exclaimed, equally aston- 
 ished. 
 
 "I was wondering if I would not run across you 
 in Ireland," said Allan, after the first greetings 
 were over. Allan had noticed the sincere joy that 
 his presence had given Mabel. "Grace told me 
 you were probably in Ireland by this time." 
 
 "Where is Grace?" said Mabel, looking around 
 in some confusion. 
 
 "Grace?" echoed Allan in amazement. 
 
 "Yes, is not Grace with you?" 
 
 "Why, no. What do you mean? Why should 
 Grace be with me?"
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 305 
 
 "Why, I thought " began Mabel, and then 
 
 she stopped in confusion, blushing deeply. 
 
 "Explain yourself," said Allan. 
 
 "Did you come away and leave Grace?" Mabel 
 asked, trying to appear natural, but hardly know- 
 ing just what she was saying. 
 
 "I left her in good hands. Lester Gray was in 
 [Wellington when I bade them good-bye about a 
 .week ago." 
 
 "Lester Gray! Who is he?" 
 
 "Did you not know that Grace Markley was 
 engaged to Lester Gray? He is a former student 
 of Wellington College, and a fine fellow. They 
 are to be married in June, and they sail for Korea 
 as missionaries in the fall. Mr. and Mrs. Markley 
 .will accompany them." 
 
 Mabel Grayson could not speak. Her eyes 
 showed her amazement, and Allan quietly sat 
 down beside her. He was beginning to understand 
 the situation. 
 
 "Did you think," he said at last, "that Grace was 
 engaged to me?" Still Mabel was silent. Her 
 head was in a whirl. 
 
 "Mabel," Allan went on, encouraged by her 
 blushes and confusion, "I think that I am begin- 
 ning to understand. You imagined that I belonged 
 to Grace Markley. I have belonged to you, and to 
 you alone, ever since that graduation day in Des 
 Moines." 
 
 ^Mabel Grayson sat looking straight before her. 
 She seemed in a kind of entrancing dream. 
 
 "Can I ever hope" Allan's voice was low and 
 tender, and he leaned over until his dark locks al-
 
 306 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 most mingled with the golden tresses of Judge 
 Grayson's daughter "can I ever hope that you 
 will belong to me? I love you, Mabel!" 
 
 The electric spark had flashed. The two separ- 
 ate elements were apart no longer. Boundary 
 walls were broken down and the hearts of Allan 
 Rutledge and Mabel Grayson flowed together like 
 water. After the first fond embrace and the sacred 
 kiss that sealed their relationship as lovers forever- 
 more, Mabel spoke : "I am so happy, Allan. I 
 have been miserable all through this trip because 
 I could not forget you." 
 
 "My long, long life dream is now a reality," re- 
 sponded Allan, "I am so happy that I am afraid I 
 will wake up and find it was only a dream." 
 
 "If the rest of the party find us, you will soon 
 find out it is no dream," Mabel answered, looking 
 around. "I must join them again. We have had 
 an interesting trip, but I shall always remember 
 'sweet Innisfallen' as the happiest spot in all 
 Europe." 
 
 "To me it will always be the dearest spot on 
 earth," responded Allan, as he arose to his feet. 
 "I will be glad to see your father again. Do you 
 think he will object when he finds out what we 
 have been doing?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" answered Mabel. "He has always 
 admired you, and he would prefer to see me a 
 minister's wife, I believe, rather than see me the 
 wife of the President of the United States. You 
 know yourself how highly he regards the ministers 
 of the Gospel." 
 
 "Your father is a man and a Christian," said
 
 'CAN I EVER HOPE THAT YOU WII,!. BELONG TO ME? " 
 
 Page 307.
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 307 
 
 Allan, with enthusiasm. Even as they were speak- 
 ing, Allan and Mabel emerged into the open space 
 around the ancient ruins of Innisfallen Abbey, and 
 Judge Grayson caught sight of them. He rushed 
 forward at once, exclaiming: "Why, I declare, if 
 here isn't Allan Rutledge, the hero of Iowa!" 
 
 Allan hastened to explain his presence, adding 
 as he looked meaningly at Mabel : "I think I can 
 be called the hero of Innisfallen after this." 
 
 The beautiful daughter of the Judge blushed, 
 and coming up to her father, she put her arms 
 around his neck. The Judge knew what it meant. 
 "God bless you, my children," he said simply. 
 
 Allan Rutledge felt that his cup of happiness was 
 full to overflowing. The rest of the party gathered 
 around and they were soon all introduced to the 
 young minister. They greeted him cordially, with 
 the exception of one young man, who was intro- 
 duced as "Walker Weldman." When Judge Gray- 
 son introduced Allan to him as "Rev. Allan Rut- 
 ledge," the young fellow shook hands with a 
 patronizing air that Allan at once noticed. Weld- 
 man reminded him of Frederick Markley and he 
 found out later that Weldman was, in many ways, 
 a kind of second Frederick Markley, and that he 
 had been a thorn in the flesh to Mabel and her 
 father during the trip. He was the son of wealthy 
 parents, of unsettled habits and principles, skep- 
 t^:al and agnostic in his religious beliefs. 
 
 Mabel afterward told Allan that her father and 
 Weldman had had many warm discussions about 
 Christianity, and that her father was disgusted
 
 308 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 with the young fellow's sneering references to min- 
 isters and the Church in general. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said Allan. "Such men need our 
 sympathy. I often think I was too harsh with 
 Frederick Markley. I took him too seriously. I 
 could tell at once, when I met him, that Walker 
 Weldman had no strength of character. Unless he 
 is converted, some such fate as that of Frederick 
 Markley will surely overtake him." 
 
 "He has been a nuisance to me all the trip," said 
 Mabel. "He persisted in paying attentions to me 
 until I had to tell him plainly that his presence was 
 annoying." 
 
 Judge Grayson and Allan had several long con- 
 versations together. The Judge was very much in- 
 terested in the change that had come over the life 
 of his kinsman, Elder Markley. 
 
 "Mr. Markley had a good home training as a 
 boy," said the Judge. "I remember well his old 
 home in Pennsylvania. But all his life until now 
 he has allowed the world to crowd out God, and 
 it has been a terrible mistake. He has paid dearly 
 for his error." 
 
 With the sole exception of Weldman, the whole 
 party was delighted with the addition of Allan 
 Rutledge to the tourist party. As Allan had 
 previously visited Killarney, he was able to point 
 out the interesting features of the various "sights" 
 in the neighborhood. The day after Allan joined 
 the party, a trip was made to Muckross Abbey, an 
 old ruin which dates back to 1440. On this trip 
 they could see to good advantage the towering 
 mountains which overshadow the lakes. One of
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 309 
 
 these mountains has a flat top, and it attracted 
 Mabel's attention. "What a peculiar top that 
 mountain has !" she exclaimed, pointing to it. 
 
 "That is the Devil's Punch Bowl," responded 
 Allan. "It formerly was a volcano, but it burned 
 itself out long ago. There is now a deep lake of 
 pure, spring water in the crater, and they pipe this 
 water to the village of Killarney. The peak is over 
 2,600 feet high." 
 
 After exploring Killarney for three days, the 
 tourists began to think of home. 
 
 "This finishes our trip," said Judge Grayson to 
 Allan, "and as you have only begun your tour I 
 expect you will leave us." 
 
 "Not at all," replied Allan. "I am well satisfied 
 with my trip and I am quite ready to escort you 
 all back home to America again. I have enjoyed 
 my week's travel more than some people do an 
 entire year in sightseeing." 
 
 "I think," said her father, with a smile, "some 
 of us have been more charmed at Killarney than 
 anywhere else in Europe." 
 
 Accordingly, they all embarked on their home- 
 ward voyage at Queenstown. About this voyage 
 Allan's only regret was that they did not take pas- 
 sage on a slow-going sailing vessel, so that it 
 might have lasted six weeks instead of six days. 
 Both Mabel and Allan were good sailors, and they 
 sat out on the deck, talking together and planning 
 for the future. 
 
 "The beautiful and commodious residence for the 
 minister in Wellington will be completed in 
 August," said Allan one day. "I can have it fur-
 
 310 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 nished and ready for its queen early in September. 
 Will that be too soon?" he asked. 
 
 "I am afraid you are trying to hurry me," replied 
 Mabel, with a smile. "Had we not better wait 
 until midwinter?" 
 
 "I cannot wait," he replied. "I will never be 
 able to settle down to do any work until you are 
 with me. My thoughts will be wandering to Des 
 Moines in spite of myself." 
 
 And so it was all arranged. 
 
 There was one unpleasant incident during the 
 voyage. When Walker Weldman found out that 
 the young -minister had won the heart of the fair 
 Mabel Grayson, and as he saw her devotion to him, 
 he was furious, and several times came very near 
 insulting Allan by his references to "fool preachers." 
 
 One day at dinner Allan was seated opposite 
 Weldman, and the conversation turned on the Holy 
 Land. 
 
 "Most of the sites pointed out to tourists in 
 Palestine are frauds," said Weldman, "but that is 
 just what you might expect." 
 
 "Why should we expect falsehood in the land 
 where Christ lived?" asked Allan quietly. 
 
 "Religion is mostly fraud everywhere," Weld- 
 man answered, with a sneer. 
 
 "You mistake, sir," 'responded Allan quickly. "In 
 the Christian religion there is no fraud whatever." 
 
 "Preachers have to say that, of course," sneered 
 Weldman, in reply. 
 
 "Every intelligent man who has investigated and 
 tested Christianity says so, unless his life is
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 311 
 
 crooked, in which case a test of Christianity is im- 
 possible," said the minister warmly. 
 
 This reference to a "crooked life" touched young 
 Weldman, for his character was openly full of 
 serious flaws. 
 
 "The practical men of America have no use for 
 churches or preachers," he responded in an insult- - 
 ing manner. 
 
 "What's this discussion about?" said Judge Gray- 
 son at this point, turning to the two young men. 
 
 Allan at once repeated the insulting remark of 
 Weldman. 
 
 "You are much mistaken, sir !" replied the Judge 
 severely, addressing himself to Weldman. "I want 
 to tell you, sir, that you have foully slandered the 
 practical men of America. They are not godless, 
 as you say. Andrew Jackson, our great President, 
 was one of the practical men of our country. He 
 called the Bible the 'Rock on which the Republic 
 was built.' General Grant urged the people of 
 America to 'cling to the Bible.' He called it the 
 'sheet anchor of our liberties.' When President 
 McKinley died a Christian death, saying, 'It is 
 God's way, not ours. His will be done,' he showed 
 all the world his faith in our holy religion. 
 
 "The leading men in America to-day," went on 
 the Judge, to the discomfited Weldman, "the men 
 who are our real patriots and who are opposing 
 the evils which blight our American civilization, 
 are practically all Christian men, and the ministers 
 <jf the Christian Church are the leaders in every- 
 thing that is best and highest in our American 
 life.
 
 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 "I wish that you could hear President Roosevelt 
 preach some time," the Judge concluded, "or that 
 you could listen to William Jennings Bryan speak 
 on the subject of religion, and you would never 
 again slander the fair name of Christian America 
 and its leading men by calling them godless." 
 
 Judge Grayson spoke so earnestly and with such 
 conviction that the sneering skeptic was silenced. 
 After that rebuke by the Judge, Walker Weldman 
 treated Allan more respectfully, and before the 
 voyage was over the minister had broken down 
 some of the prejudice with which Weldman re- 
 garded the teachers of religion. One day Allan 
 related to him the tragic story of Frederick Mark- 
 ley. It made a great impression on Weldman, and 
 Allan hoped it would eventually lead to a change 
 in his life and belief. 
 
 When the liner arrived at New York, Allan bade 
 Mabel and the rest of the party good-bye, as he 
 desired to make a visit in Boston and some other 
 Eastern cities. 
 
 He called on his old professor, Dr. Augustus 
 Beard, and found rather a chilly reception awaiting 
 him. After Allan explained to the professor of 
 theology how Wellington Church and college were 
 flourishing as never before, the old professor 
 thawed out a little, but Allan could plainly see 
 that Dr. Beard was in sympathy with the ecclesias- 
 tical "machine" in Iowa, which had been so sadly 
 disorganized by the Wellington minister's aggres- 
 sive Christianity. From Boston Allan went to 
 Washington, D. C, and spent a delightful week 
 in the Capitol city.
 
 ALLAN RUTLEDGE 313 
 
 Through his friend, Senator Dolliver, he was 
 admitted to an interview with President Roosevelt, 
 and he had a delightful chat with this foremost 
 American. The strenuous President showed the 
 deepest interest in the moral and religious outlook 
 in the Middle West, and declared that a spiritual 
 awakening was the most vital need of our times. 
 
 Climbing to the top of the dome of the National 
 Capitol building, Allan surveyed with a beating 
 heart the beautiful Capitol city of America. As he 
 gazed upon the magnificent public buildings, 
 Washington Monument, the old Lee mansion in 
 the distance, the wooded parks and broad boule- 
 vardes of the splendid metropolis, and as he re- 
 membered that this magnificent city was the offi- 
 cial home of his country, his heart swelled with 
 patriotic pride, and he thanked God for the great 
 Western nation, whose flag is the emblem of free- 
 dom, righteousness and humanity. 
 
 "Beautiful land of the Stars and Stripes!" he ex- 
 claimed aloud. 
 
 "Banner of Freedom ; long may you wave 
 O'er the land of the free and the home of the 
 brave." 
 
 After a few more weeks of rest, spent in the 
 Alleghany Mountains, Allan Rutledge turned his 
 face once more toward Iowa.
 
 * CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE VICTORY, OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE. 
 
 "Wellington! Wellington!" shouted the conduc- 
 tor, as the fast Chicago Express thundered into 
 that Iowa town, bearing the returning minister 
 home again. 
 
 A great crowd thronged the platform of the 
 station. 
 
 "There he is !" cried a number of voices, as 
 Allan Rutledge, radiant and happy, appeared on 
 the platform of one of the Pullman palace cars, his 
 suit case in hand. As he stepped to the ground 
 Deacon Stanford met him. 
 
 "Welcome home, Mr. Rutledge! You look like 
 a new man again." 
 
 "And I feel like a prince," replied the minister. 
 
 "We are so glad to see you back with us again," 
 said his many friends, greeting him with a hearty 
 handshake. 
 
 "This is home," said Allan to Deacon Stanford, 
 when they drove away together. "I am delighted 
 to be back among my own people in Wellington." 
 
 "As far as I can see," replied Deacon Stanford, 
 "there is only one thing that is wrong, and that 
 is that no one seems to be 'kicking.' But the good 
 Lord has given you the complete victory." 
 
 314
 
 THE VICTORY OF ALLAN RUTLEDGE 315 
 
 "He surely has," responded Allan, and the min- 
 ister confided in the deacon his victory on Innis- 
 fallen Island. 
 
 "Glorious! glorious!" almost shouted Deacon 
 Stanford. "Mabel Grayson will be a worthy mis- 
 tress of the splendid house we are building for you. 
 You ought to see it. It will be one of the finest 
 residences in town. Elddr Markley has superin- 
 tended most of the work himself, and he says that 
 nothing is too good. It will be a house fit for the 
 ambassador of Christ to live in." 
 
 That night they gave Allan a^ "welcome home 
 reception" at the church. While he was away the 
 new pipe-organ had been installed, and a gallery 
 erected, and the entire church overhauled. 
 
 Allan was in the highest spirits. As he mingled 
 with the people he was delighted to greet many in 
 whom he was greatly interested and whom he. ob- 
 served with joy remaining steadfast in the faith. 
 Mr. Steen was there that night, contented and 
 happy. His little daughter, Marjorie, had a part 
 on the program, singing with her marvelous voice 
 the appropriate song, "Home Sweet Home." Mrs. 
 Frisbie was there, still showing visible signs on 
 her face of the agony of her soul in its rebirth, but 
 gentle and cheerful. The men from the factory, 
 were present, now proud fellow-partners in the 
 Wellington Manufacturing Company, each of them 
 with the air of a prosperous business man. 
 
 Elder Markley and his wife were present, still 
 sad looking, but greeting all with a kindly smile. 
 Grace Markley had a little talk with Allan during 
 the evening, and he confided to her also his success
 
 316 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 on the lovely island of Innisfallen. She was over- 
 joyed, hardly believing it possible, and warmly 
 congratulated the minister. Richard Rutledge, 
 Allan's brother, who had now become one of the 
 leaders among the college boys, was there, sur- 
 rounded by a large crowd of the students. They 
 gave their college yell with characteristic vigor, 
 and the roof of the reception parlor rang with their 
 " 'rah-'rah-'rahs." 
 
 Altogether the reception was unanimous and 
 cordial to a degree that surprised even Deacon 
 Stanford. Toward the close of the evening the 
 deacon stepped forward and made a little talk to 
 the gathering, presenting Allan with a handsome 
 gold watch and chain. 
 
 "You have had a good time while you were away 
 from us," said the genial deacon, "and we want 
 you to have a 'good time' from now on in Welling- 
 ton," and he handed the watch to the surprised 
 minister. In his response Allan Rutledge spoke 
 with much feeling of his appreciation of the beauti- 
 ful gift. 
 
 "I will always carry this watch," he said earnest- 
 ly. "It will ever remind me of your loyalty and 
 love. I am proud to be the minister of such a 
 congregation as the Wellington Church. I find 
 that our work here is creating interest in all parts 
 of the country, and we are showing discouraged 
 ministers and churches that the Gospel of Christ 
 is still the power of God unto salvation." After 
 Allan sat down, Doctor Shepherd, the new presi- 
 dent of the Wellington College, arose, and in a few 
 well chosen words he pledged the cordial support
 
 'ALLAN RUTLEDGE 317 
 
 of that institution to all the efforts made by the 
 Wellington Church to extend Christ's kingdom on 
 earth. 
 
 "Our mission is great and glorious!" he ex- 
 claimed. "Here is our mission and here is the 
 pledge of our success," and he held up one of the 
 souvenir cards which had been given to all who 
 were present. On these cards were printed a pic- 
 ture of the Wellington Church, and underneath 
 the church were printed these words: 
 
 "Our Mission The Extension of Christ's King- 
 dom on Earth; Our Pledge of Victory The Word 
 of God." 
 
 The reception was ended by singing together a 
 verse of the hymn, "Like a Mighty Army Moves 
 the Church of God." 
 
 Deacon Stanford and Allan walked home to- 
 gether, as was their custom. "My work in Wel- 
 lington is only beginning," said the minister. "All 
 this rough, preparatory work, which has been nec- 
 essary, and in which I have been hitherto engaged, 
 was like the work of the pioneer woodsman. I 
 have been simply making a clearing so that the 
 real work of the church could begin. We have 
 now, for the first time, an opportunity to go for- 
 ward, as Christ's followers, and take this entire 
 community for God, and do our part to extend his 
 kingdom in the world." 
 
 As soon as he could get away for a few days, 
 Alfan hastened to Des Moines. He was welcomed 
 to Judge Grayson's home by Mabel herself, who 
 opened the door as he came up the steps, exclaim- 
 ing: "Have you run away from Wellington again
 
 318 THE VICTORY OF 
 
 so soon? You are not looking after your flock 
 very faithfully." 
 
 "I am like a man trying to serve two masters," 
 replied Allan smilingly, as he greeted her cordially, 
 "but I hope too to be able to say, 'Now rest, my 
 long divided heart.' " 
 
 When they were seated in the parlor Allan told 
 her all about the reception at Wellington and 
 showed her the watch. He also spoke of the new 
 residence for the minister, which was to be one of 
 the finest homes in Wellington. 
 
 "I am sure all its arrangements will please you," 
 he said, as he described its completeness. 
 
 "I am afraid," said Mabel shyly, "that I am 
 hardly worthy to be a minister's wife." 
 
 "You are worthy to be the wife of an emperor," 
 responded Allan enthusiastically; "and yet," he 
 added seriously, "I think a minister's life is of a 
 higher order than even an emperor's. It's because 
 I am counted worthy to be an ambassador of 
 Christ that I have dared to aspire to the hand of 
 Judge Grayson's daughter." 
 
 That afternoon they visited the State Capitol 
 building, which crowns a gentle eminence over- 
 looking the Des Moines River. As they climbed 
 the long stairways leading to the top of the dome, 
 Allan told of his recent experience in Washington, 
 and how moved he was at the sight of the capitol 
 city of his country. They stood together on the 
 top of the dome of the Iowa State Capitol, and sur- 
 veyed the panorama beneath. The growing city 
 of Des Moines stretched out on every side. The 
 winding river, spanned by many a bridge, flowed
 
 ALLAN RUT LEDGE 319 
 
 majestically through the city, and out across the 
 fertile plains. Away in the distance they could 
 see the broad acres of rich soil that make Iowa 
 the finest agricultural State in the Union. 
 
 They gazed awhile in silence, and then Allan 
 spoke. "What a grand picture of possibilities that 
 is ! Here in this prosperous land God is about to 
 rear the noblest society this earth has even seen. 
 I am proud of Iowa. I am proud of the Middle 
 West." 
 
 And Mabel Grayson answered, "All that is need- 
 ed to make your dream for this land come true is 
 the Americanization and Christianization of its 
 people." 
 
 "With you by my side," responded Allan, "I 
 dedicate my life to the building up of God's king- 
 dom in this glorious Middle West." And they went 
 down from the dome together, happy in their 
 mutual love, both of them thrilled with the same 
 grand ambition. The victory of Allan Rutledge 
 was complete! 
 
 (The End.)
 
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