THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 o 
 
 
 S LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A SOCIAL VISION BY 
 CHARLES S. DANIEL. PUBLISHED 
 BY MILLER PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 PHILADELPHIA 1893
 
 Copyright 1892, by Chas. S. Daniel.
 
 PS 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Amalgamation of Forces. 
 II. The Philosophy of the Man. 
 
 III. A College Sett'lement. 
 
 IV. A Thinking Man at Work. 
 V. A Working Man A-Thinking. 
 
 VI. A Little Leaven. 
 VII. A Feast of Reason. 
 VIII. Earth to Earth. 
 
 IX. An Election That Was Also a Choice. 
 
 X. The Modern Crown of Thorns. 
 XI. The Real Consecration. 
 XII. Was It All a Dream? 
 
 XIII. The Leaven at Work. 
 
 XIV. Ways and Means. 
 XV. Was He Intrusive? 
 
 XVI.* 
 
 XVII. A Chapter Thrown in. 
 XVIII. Concerning the Suppressed Chapter. 
 XIX. A Wedding Dance. 
 XX. A Report of Work. 
 XXI. A Day Oft'. 
 XXII. A Day of Judgment. 
 
 XXIII. Read. 
 
 XXIV. A Conception of Truth. 
 XXV. The Ancient Landmarks. 
 
 XXVI. At Home. 
 XXVII. Another Day Off. 
 XXVIII. A Confessional. 
 XXIX. Reparation. 
 
 XXX. Concerning Past Days. 
 XXXI. An Intellectual Anvil. 
 XXXII. Reminiscences. 
 
 XXXIII. A Victory. 
 
 XXXIV. A Life Worth Living. 
 
 '"Suppressed. 
 
 9871
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE AMALGAMATION OF FORCES. 
 
 O Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo ? 
 Deny thy father and refuse thy name ; 
 Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
 And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 THERE was a ripple of excitement in what con 
 stituted the fashionable circle of Philadelphia, 
 when it leaked out that the Hamilton girls had 
 gone off and married the Burr brothers. Alice 
 and Enid Hamilton were twin sisters, and were 
 great favorites among the ultra fashionable. They 
 had a long pedigree of honorable associations, 
 were blessed with an abundance of worldly goods, 
 and their personality was bright and attractive, so 
 that they had hosts of admirers, among whom they 
 numbered some worthy of being counted friends. 
 They were, known as the pretty Hamilton girls. 
 Their coming to any resort in their summer wan 
 derings was considered the event of the season, 
 and the most was made of it on both sides ; society 
 sought profit by them, and they in a sweet,
 
 helpful way sought to give all the pleasure within 
 their power. "Those sensible Hamilton girls," 
 they used to say, " nothing seems to spoil them. 
 They are the same to-day they were two years ago, 
 when they first stepped upon the stage of fashion 
 able life, and yet their experience would have 
 spoiled all of less genuine material." They were 
 considered by some as a little highstrung, but by 
 those who knew them best they were not so much 
 highstrung in the offensive sense, as girls of inde 
 pendent spirit ; they could not be made to stoop 
 and cringe to anything they considered base, 
 mercenary, selfish and mean. So .that when Enid 
 was informed that a husband had been selected 
 for her, she replied in her sweet, respectful manner 
 that she had already paid attention to that matter, 
 and no selection was necessary. The matter, of 
 course, was discussed, but the outcome was. a 
 foregone conclusion ; it was simply a choice be 
 tween a man she did not love, whom she could not 
 even respect, and the man who was everything to 
 her, and against whom nothing could be urged, 
 who was honorable, bright and energetic, but had 
 his fortune yet to make. In the same interview, 
 in order to get the matter out of the way in one 
 sweeping, the intelligence was also conveyed that 
 Alice had done the same ; that they had concluded 
 4
 
 not to spread into too many families, and therefore 
 they were to marry the Burr brothers, twins like 
 themselves. The whole matter was said so inof 
 fensively, so respectfully, but so firmly, that it was 
 seen at once by the astonished parents that to 
 argue the matter was useless ; they nevertheless kept 
 up the appearance of offended parental dignity, 
 although they had secretly concluded to let the 
 matter take its course. Enid, however, to cut off 
 all possibility of retreat, proposed to her sister to 
 accede at once to the importunities of the brothers, 
 and they were accordingly married three days after 
 wards. One of the happy brothers was building 
 up for himself a little business that prospered, in 
 the way of importing choice tropical fruits; the 
 other was an electrician, and was really the origi 
 nator of many of the leading ideas which have given 
 us our excellent system of underground wires. 
 
 The brothers, plain, practical men of action, 
 proposed that the matter be done without parade. 
 The day after the girls became of age, they met 
 the brothers at Earle's gallery after business hours, 
 on a half holiday, slipped quietly into the church 
 of Gloria Dei by the Swanson street entrance, and 
 were married. 
 
 It is said they plucked their bridal roses as they 
 passed through the grounds. The dead presented 
 5
 
 them with their wedding bouquets, and they in turn 
 will perfume the world long after they shall have 
 returned to the same earth. 
 
 After the ceremony in the quaint little church, 
 they were met by a telegram requiring the im 
 mediate presence ot the electrician. Some unfore 
 seen accident had happened to the wires and must 
 be attended to before lights were needed. Busi 
 ness before pleasure, agreed the practical quartette; 
 and the electrician went about his work, while the 
 brother took both the brides to Camden to witness 
 the last rites at the grave of Walt Whitman. 
 
 It was a free, unconventional, happy and serious 
 day. 
 
 If they had listened they might have heard a 
 voice from the grave : 
 
 All things are good ; flowers from the grave 
 
 As well as those in sunny window ; 
 
 Work is good; 
 
 The sweet spontaneous yieldings of love 
 
 Are good ; so also 
 
 The firm resistance to insincere and 
 
 Hollow ambition; 
 
 And death itself is good also. 
 
 There were of course the usual breezes, disap 
 pointments, comments and criticisms, following 
 this little escapade of the Hamilton girls ; but
 
 they would all be forgiven at their setting up of 
 housekeeping, when two more houses should be 
 added to the circle dispensing charming hospi 
 tality and adding to the amenities of social life. 
 All was marked out for them ; their friends had 
 even so far interested themselves as to select two 
 roomy houses on Rittenhouse square, which had 
 recently been rebuilt with antique fronts, and were 
 in every way suited to the young people, who 
 should certainly become the leaders of fashion. 
 The husbands, of course, some whispered, would 
 for a time be only appendages; but still, as noth 
 ing decidedly could be urged against them, and as 
 they were bright and really interesting on close 
 acquaintance, they would gradually*be admitted, 
 and would finally be forgiven for this inroad and 
 capture they had made. No one seemed to know 
 them except a few of the young men of fashion; 
 and this only through business relations, in which 
 the Burrs had outstripped them by their solid worth 
 and genuine business capacity. They were ac 
 knowledged to be men who were slowly climbing 
 to the top ; and this not by any other methods 
 than the most honorable and by the inherent quali 
 ties of strictest integrity. 
 
 But they had never been met in fashionable cir 
 cles, and how it all came about was the thing that 
 7
 
 puzzled everybody. The girls kept their own 
 counsel. 
 
 Mrs. Airy had it all planned. 
 
 "Of course, Enid, you will take it; it has 
 been charmingly refitted, everything in the most 
 elegant manner ; there are sixteen rooms, and the 
 rent is only fifteen hundred dollars a year, very 
 cheap for that house; and, besides, the other 
 house, exactly like it, will do for Alice; and you 
 will all be near me, and we will all be together, 
 and it will be charming." 
 
 "But," replied Enid, "we can buy the house 
 we have selected for fifteen hundred dollars ; my 
 husband has saved that, and the deed is ready for 
 signatures. We will then have our own home, 
 and fifteen hundrd dollars a year will keep house. 
 Besides, our income is not more than that; for 
 we are just beginners, you know, and while 
 things are getting better every day, yet for the 
 present we must not live beyond our means. Of 
 course, I have an income ot my own, and 
 father would give me all I asked for, but I 
 have a good, manly man, proud and sensitive, 
 and I would not wound his pride by my offers 
 of help ; I will stand by him, accepting such 
 as he by his own energy and labor can pro 
 vide." 
 
 8
 
 "I do not understand. Where can you buy a 
 house for fifteen hundred dollars ? You can live 
 in a few rooms upstairs ; but you are not going 
 to do that; you puzzle me, Enid," said Mrs. 
 Airy. 
 
 "The matter is arranged; as I said, the deed 
 is about being signed ; you must come and see 
 us when we get settled." 
 
 "Indeed I will; but, Enid, where are you 
 going ? This is becoming interesting ; out of 
 town, I suppose? " 
 
 " No; on Congress street." 
 
 " On Congress street ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I never heard of it. So you are going to 
 your own house ; that will be nice, and we will 
 certainly come to see you," remarked Mrs. Airy, 
 after meditating a moment. 
 
 Congress street is a little by-street, running 
 west off Front, below Bainbridge. On the south 
 side, and quite close to Front street, can be seen 
 two squarely built brick houses, exactly alike, 
 with massive chimneys, and the gables facing the 
 street. They were once separated by a narrow 
 strip of ground, and had evidently stood in a con 
 siderable tract before the street was cut through. 
 They are now close by the street. On one of the 
 9
 
 gables can be seen the letters C. M. , and on the 
 other house the date 1748. These inscriptions 
 are formed of black glazed brick, built into the 
 walls. 
 
 When these young people were out house hunt 
 ing, these twin cottages had already stood there 
 one hundred and forty-four years, and had sheltered 
 five generations. They had once been owned by 
 an ancestor of the Hamiltons, members of the 
 family having lived there for a hundred years. 
 Of recent years the houses had been lived in 
 by various families of boatmen and laborers in 
 the adjoining mills and docks. 
 
 The sight of these quaint twin houses with their 
 odd inscriptions, so closely nestled to each other 
 on this quaint street of industrious poor, rilled the 
 twin sisters with a sense of family pride. In their 
 sunny, youthful ardor, they saw in those two little 
 houses, two little homes, where they ought to nestle 
 and be happy. It was an opportunity not to be 
 neglected, and they would see to it at once. 
 
 When the houses were secured, as said before, 
 they were separated by a narrow strip of ground. 
 This was altered and the improvements seen to 
 day date from the time when they took possession. 
 A builder was engaged to make certain improve 
 ments. Nothing of the old structure was in the
 
 least disturbed, but the improvements were by way 
 of additions, and a careful plan of the original 
 was preserved. Brick arches span each end of the 
 space separating the houses, and the whole was 
 converted into a spacious veranda, which was 
 occupied in common. It was a cool, shady place 
 in summer, and in winter afforded a dry and con 
 venient way of communication. The view through 
 the two arches obtained from the street, was a 
 tempting one to passers-by, for they had erected 
 in the rear an elevated garden, filled with bloom 
 ing plants, that made the sight a fairy scene and a 
 constant source of delight to the neighborhood. 
 The old fireplaces were restored as in the da)S of 
 cranes, and the old stairways were exposed. The 
 walls were cleaned and scraped- of many layers of 
 paper, down to the original layer of the solid and 
 genuine mortar of pre-Revolutionary days. Drain 
 age and ventilation were looked after, and all was 
 made comfortable and bright. But the original 
 structure was undisturbed. The doors and shut 
 ters were mended and braced and joined together, 
 and every fragment was preserved and restored. 
 
 And then came the question of furnishing. 
 The modern carpet, with its capacity for holding 
 dust, was not to desecrate this abode of free and 
 
 healthful existence. The waxed floors of the past, 
 ii
 
 with abundant rugs, easily handled, were to make 
 beautiful and comfortable this home of rational 
 souls. One of the young wives, who was quite an 
 architectural genius, superintended all of the im 
 provements, and was somewhat of a terror to the 
 workmen on account of her exactions with regard 
 to following plans which she furnished. One day 
 she made a carpenter tear out half a day's work. 
 "You might have known," said she, "that such 
 battens ought to be nailed together only with 
 wrought-iron nails, having broad, spreading heads, 
 and neatly made by hand by a blacksmith. Screws, 
 glue and paint, what an idea ! Look at the plan 
 there the heads are plainly marked. ' ' 
 
 12
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE MAN. 
 
 We do not take possession of our ideas, but are possessed by them. 
 They master us and force us into the arena, where, like gladiators, 
 we must fight for them. Heine. 
 
 THE social regeneration of old Philadelphia came 
 about through a variety of influences, and by a 
 complex mixture of forces which wrought upon 
 one another, each force potent by itself, but which 
 still would have been insufficient to accomplish 
 anything, or at least not much, if left working 
 alone. 
 
 The men and women who figured in it were a 
 multitude ; in fact, it was the whole of the con 
 glomerated mass that was set leavening, which 
 grew and grew into the ripeness and the propor 
 tions you see it to-day. 
 
 It concerns us to know only the leading facts 
 and to learn the main outlines of the influences ; 
 to become acquainted with the few leading person 
 ages who constituted the leaven which was put 
 into the meal.
 
 That there has been a regeneration no one will 
 fail to see who can remember or learn the condi 
 tion of things half a century ago, and then see the 
 vision that presents itself to the social philosopher 
 in this year 1950. To be more explicit, one need 
 but single out any of those sections which were 
 once known to men still living as the slums, but 
 which to-day stand improved and purified out of 
 existence, to estimate the degree of the changes 
 wrought. Men who saw the past condition of things 
 must whip their memories to recall, and the youth 
 of to-day regard as Munchausen tales, the descrip 
 tions that some old man with keener recollections 
 may give of the times and condition of things so 
 long ago. Those sections of the city, once a great 
 care to the police, would scarcely be recognized ; 
 just like some old house rebuilt, such are its 
 porches and gables, its windows and chimneys, its 
 roofs and drainage, as to make it next to impossi 
 ble even to imagine how it looked originally. 
 One does not care to go back and wade those 
 streets, breathe those gases, drink that water, bat 
 tle with that filth, revel in those noises, see those 
 sights and die under those conditions. One tries 
 to forget some things, and if one never knew, it 
 scarcely is wise to learn. Any prurient taste is 
 therefore to be ungratified. But when the loaf
 
 sweet and brown is seen, one may be excused for 
 revealing the process and method of leavening; 
 when the home of beauty and of comfort appears, 
 one is justified in telling the name of architect and 
 master builder. 
 
 Perhaps the heart and sinew of the work was my 
 friend Ai, whom I never consulted with reference 
 to the publication of these facts. They can scarcely 
 be called publications, as they have been known 
 and seen for half a century, and become household 
 words ; so that while they have already been pub 
 lished they have never been recorded, and this it 
 has seemed to many ought to be done. Ai, so 
 thoughtful, so sensitive, so straightforward, so 
 sympathetic, so daring, and withal so modest, 
 thought of the matter so constantly that it was the 
 perpetual theme of his conversation whenever we 
 met. 
 
 He regarded society as a brotherhood, a family 
 of children; but this family had become scattered, 
 partly on account of want of sympathy, partly 
 on account of strife and clashing interests. 
 The members were at war, there was internal 
 strife, there were factions and unworthy plays and 
 by- plays. It was all too bad, and something 
 must be done to bring the members of this family 
 together; these boys must be gotten to touch 
 15
 
 hands and see that their flesh is of the same text 
 ure, and that the same blood warms each heart. 
 Matters are out of joint ; that is all ; we must 
 bring them together and adjust the parts. It may 
 require a little force and strength, and withal a 
 little pain may result, but it will soon be over, 
 and the limb will become useful. In our walks 
 he went over the whole ground of the constitution 
 of society, its social life, its institutions, gov 
 ernment, laws ; and the whole weighed upon him 
 like the thought of an anxious mother for an ab 
 sent child. He felt intensely; he saw corruption 
 and wrong-doing, the ulcers and sores of society; 
 but it was in no spirit of pessimism. It can all 
 be changed. The forces of the stream can be 
 diverted and then utilized. The conditions can 
 be adjusted so as to bring out the highest and 
 most desirable results. "And we must do it; 
 no, I must do it," he used to say, "every man 
 in his place must take a part in this upheaval and 
 regeneration." 
 
 "Now look at that section," he said one day; 
 " there is nothing wrong with it, the wrong lies 
 with the men and women who are not there. You 
 speak of the slums ; what makes them slums but 
 your faithlessness ? You speak of the morally 
 diseased ; what makes them so but the taint which 
 16
 
 others have left ? The neighborhood has men and 
 women who only need readjustment ; they have 
 broken down under strain, and need only the 
 lifting hand of superior strength. I never see 
 that section but I think of it as a bay, once as 
 quiet a harbor for ships as ever was seen, but the 
 waters have been withdrawn ; the tide has gone 
 out and left the ships stranded and useless ; and if 
 it stays out too long, stench and disease will result. 
 What I must do is to do my part in bringing 
 about a return of the tide ; we must float those 
 ships, we must reach those havens, and bring life 
 and activity where is now stagnation and decay. 
 We want a readjustment in the thought of society, 
 so that men will come to see themselves as waters 
 necessary to ships, and ships that can only float 
 in waters. We have not yet learned that the dif 
 ferent classes of society are necessary to one an 
 other; that one can scarcely tell which is the 
 most important the ship, the water, or even the 
 deep mud or shifting sands that hold the water. 
 We need a sense of sympathy; we must join 
 hands, and say we are brethren." 
 
 One day I saw a great sore on Ai's hand, which 
 grew and festered and became feverish, and 
 seemed stubborn and unyielding. I recommend 
 ed excellent poultices and plasters. "Ah, that," 
 17
 
 said he, "is just what we are doing, what I am 
 doing, with this business of society. I apply the 
 plaster on the outside and get a little temporary 
 relief, but it only breaks out somewhere else. 
 What really is necessary is purification of the 
 blood ; men need purifying from within. The 
 remedy is not the plaster applied on the outside, 
 but the trouble lies deeper than that, and when 
 we have learned the seat of the disease we have 
 gotten to the bottom of things." 
 
 To elucidate what he meant he would go into 
 particulars and cite facts and bring forth instances. 
 " Now look at it, it is all wrong. There is another 
 church for sale, and the congregation about mov 
 ing west, where the pastor says his, flock has gone. 
 What he means by that I scarcely know, for I fird 
 the neighborhood a bee-hive. Soon you will hear 
 this same church in its new comfortable quarters, 
 talking of doing benevolent work, and proposing 
 to operate upon the slums. It is the same story 
 over again. It is applying the blister, the plaster 
 or the poultice on the outside, while the seat of 
 the disease and the blood are untouched. We 
 operate upon the outside, I operate upon the out 
 side, in my philanthropic intentions, instead of 
 going deep down and bringing health and purity 
 from within. The churches have ceased being a 
 18
 
 leaven hidden in the meal." And thus he would 
 talk. Our mutual friend, Impey, who frequently 
 joined us in our walks, added to this last observa 
 tion that the work of the churches reminded him 
 more of grease than leaven, which the baker 
 spread over the hard and indigestible loaf, to 
 make it shiny and presentable. Impey was no 
 churchman, but this operating upon the slums 
 from without always seemed to him the most in 
 sidious error with which the church had ever been 
 blinded. 
 
 One matter which entered largely into his 
 philosophy, Ai loved to dwell upon. It grew into 
 an enthusiasm, as he sought to give it practical 
 shape. It was not all a wild dream, but the mat 
 ter rested upon a foundation deep down in the 
 constitution of society. The evidences that this 
 was sound philosophy are now so plainly seen all 
 about us that attention need but be called to it to 
 convince us of the farsightedness of his opinions. 
 The history of it, how it all began and was 
 brought about, this may interest us, and with this 
 we are more direc.tly concerned. 
 
 He maintained that society will never be regen- % 
 
 crated until each will come to regard himself 
 
 as a part of it ; the jparts must be adjusted ; now 
 
 they lie apart ; they must be brought together. 
 
 19
 
 The rivets, the screws, the glue and the braces 
 must bind this machine together, that it may do 
 its work. The separation of the classes lies at the 
 foundation of our troubles. The rich are getting 
 richer, the poor are getting poorer, and with this 
 change in fortune comes a separation in abode, 
 and a loss of that sympathy which close proximity 
 carries with it. We have our classes, and they 
 are known by the quarter they live in. Men 
 are drifting not only in their abodes, but are be 
 coming separated in feeling. There 'are those 
 who are moving north and west and those who are 
 drifting east and south ; and as they drift apart 
 and cross each other's paths they view each other 
 with feelings of suspicion. One class hates the 
 other, and the other simply despises in return. 
 
 "Now there will be a change in all this when 
 there is a return of the ghosts of the grandfathers 
 to the old homesteads, and I will live to see it." 
 As he dwelt pn this, his eyes brightened and his 
 whole frame quivered with pleasurable excitement. 
 " I believe there will be a literal coming back of 
 the tide, a real infusing of health and strength into 
 the blood itself. Young men and women will 
 come and live where their ancestors lived. Maid 
 ens will walk those halls and dance in those rooms 
 where once their grandmothers danced. There
 
 has been enough of this false philosophy; men 
 will live naturally and humanely ; rich and poor 
 will dwell together like brethren. It all means 
 the ushering in of a happy era of sane humanity 
 and brotherhood." 
 
 "Are you not sanguine?" I sometimes sug 
 gested. " Yes, but I have a right to be ; for there 
 is an awakening to a realization of the worth of 
 things, and this will work out this phase of the 
 regeneration I am alluding to." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Please explain." 
 " Perhaps a single allusion will cover the prin 
 ciple. The other day I strayed into one of those 
 old residences on Front street, and saw one of the 
 numerous old homesteads scattered all through 
 that section of old Philadelphia, lying along the 
 Delaware. My attention was attracted to the 
 quaint shutters and their locks and hinges ; the 
 beauty and elaborateness of the doorway tempted 
 me into the hall, a glimpse of which I had. Once 
 inside, the arches and stairways and architectural 
 marks of bygone days were examined, and the 
 whole afforded an hour's keen enjoyment. Now 
 this taste for the antique alone will be a strong 
 factor in bringing back the social tide. There is, 
 of course, the stronger motive, that feeling of 
 humanity and sense of brotherhood, the mellowing 
 
 21
 
 of the kindly heart, that is slowly but surely 
 going on all around us among the younger people. 
 All this will aid to work out the problem ; but the 
 love of the old and substantial, the historical asso 
 ciations of the past, this will bear no mean part 
 in this social regeneration. Things are just in 
 their formative state. Up to this date it has been 
 a fad ; it has been surface work and shallow, this 
 worship of the antique ; but its foundation rests 
 upon a base deep down, and we are getting to it, 
 and then will begin to build ; mark my word. 
 We have brought out the spinning-wheel and have 
 gilded it and decorated it ; we will now move back 
 to the room that once heard its music. I do not 
 say that we will abandon the factory and reinstate 
 the spinning-wheel not that ; but we will return 
 to the abode of our grandmothers and live in some 
 what the simplicity and comfort of their time, 
 and we will be happier than they on account of the 
 advantages which the times have brought. I do 
 not believe that we will much longer let these 
 treasures of the old homesteads lie unearthed. It 
 is really too bad to see the lack of appreciation. 
 The other day I saw a group of sailors sitting 
 around an open fireplace, with its fine old richly 
 carved mantel ; the fire was burning low, and one 
 of the company, a strong, ox-like fellow, reached
 
 over and wrenched off one of the carved pillars 
 supporting the mantel, and rebuilt the fire. A 
 splinter clung to a nail ; with this he lighted his 
 pipe. It made my aesthetic blood creep. This 
 will no longer continue ; the young people will 
 appoint themselves committees to see to this. We 
 will still have associations to care for a building of 
 historic note, here and there, but will also see two 
 and two love and join hands and go down and be 
 gin their housekeeping where a century ago their 
 grandmothers lived and were happy. We have 
 given our money, we have written our books, we 
 have sent our substitutes, we have done everything 
 to exhibit our interest in the troubled and the op 
 pressed ; but now will begin an era when men will 
 give themselves, their presence and personality, 
 and they will grasp the hands of those whom they 
 wish to be friendly to. It will be an age of 
 personal service. And this service will not be 
 rendered by proxy, with a supercilious, faraway 
 daintiness, but there will be a living, genuine, 
 human sympathy of real brotherhood and neigh 
 borly contiguousness growing in the soil. 
 The regeneration will be wrought by the home 
 acting upon the home. We are entering upon 
 this era and we will both live to see it far ad 
 vanced." 
 
 23
 
 And thus we would walk and talk. Sometimes 
 in our long strollings in the park we would rest, 
 and getting a bird's-eye view of the city he would 
 say, " That will really once more become a city of 
 brotherly love. We drink the same water, but we 
 do not breathe the same air; the new era will alter 
 that. W will walk the same pavements to our 
 homes and breathe the same air." On winter 
 days when it was more pleasurable to walk the 
 sunny side of the street, we would stroll into the 
 by-streets of the old town and see the quaint old 
 buildings with their shingle roofs and bays, and 
 arched doorways, stopping here and there to ex 
 amine something more quaint than the rest. In 
 these walks he would say, "Living hearts are 
 wanted now who will appreciate this. We want 
 men and women who will walk uprightly to see 
 this. These people crawl ; they creep under these 
 roofs for shelter; but the fault is not all theirs; it 
 is the fault of the brotherhood. We want men who 
 will walk like men and lift their heads as they go 
 in and out, and the contagion will spread. See 
 that puddle; it will disappear when the new era ap 
 pears." "But," I asked, " how about the over 
 crowding, how about the displacement when this 
 inflow of philanthropy begins?" " There will be 
 some displacement of course, but not to any 
 24
 
 serious extent. Mark, I do not say that there will be 
 a flood that will overflow this parched ground and 
 make it blossom and fruitful not that. What I 
 do maintain, is that the old homesteads will be 
 sought out and inhabited by the descendants; 
 these naturally will be few. Besides, social heroes 
 will not be found marching in regiments. I said 
 it will be leaven in the meal; not an addition of 
 other meal to displace the present population. It 
 will be leaven, active, sweet and forceful, that will 
 accomplish this social regeneration." And thus 
 we would walk and talk. But it was not all talk. 
 Ai was a man of action.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A COLLEGE SETTLEMENT. 
 
 A man does not choose the scene of his work. The man who knows 
 his goal and wills to reach it, has felt the call of God written in letters 
 of fire" This is thy place." Ibsen. 
 
 MINSTER Street is a narrow lane running off 
 Seventh Street, above Lombard. It was on this 
 street that Ai first appeared as a co-worker in this 
 social regeneration. When the college settlements 
 were first inaugurated, Andover House, Hull 
 House, the college settlement in New York, and 
 Toynbee Hall in London, Ai had lived and worked 
 on Minster Street for a considerable time, almost 
 unknown, except to the little world of the poor 
 around him. 
 
 No one knows precisely the earliest history of 
 his work on Minster Street. It is a matter con 
 cerning which he always exhibited a freezing reti 
 cence. On more than one occasion did I try, in 
 not too intrusive a way, either, to draw him out ; 
 but the snail always drew himself into his shell, 
 and all conversation was closed for that evening. 
 It was known among his friends, that if anyone 
 wished to spoil the social feast, he need but refer, 
 even remotely, to Ai's first steps in his work ; this 
 26
 
 chilled the flow of conversation and Ai dropped 
 out of the circle as completely as if he had never 
 been there. Why this reticence, why this strange 
 moving away from the light, no one was able 
 clearly to ascertain. All that was positively known 
 is the fact that he was found there, lodged in a lit 
 tle house adjoining a small church ; that he was 
 known to the people in the street, who found him 
 there when they moved in. No one in that shift 
 ing population had been there long enough to 
 know anything very far back, and so there were 
 difficulties in writing ancient history. A rather 
 amusing tale is to the effect that he was a Jesuit in 
 disguise; had been educated in a Jesuitical college 
 and was a man of the most dangerous-and insid 
 ious character. All this praying out of the Book 
 of Common Prayer was a part he was playing ; it 
 worked well, and he had slain his allotted number. 
 His professions in the way of ritualism were all a 
 pretense. His affectations in the direction of the 
 Broad Church movement, bordering almost on 
 Unitarianism, which others curiously detected run 
 ning on a parallel with his ritualism, were all 
 thoroughly consistent with the ways and plan of 
 the Jesuit, and he was one, of the rankest char 
 acter. Others admitted his Jesuitical origin, but 
 gave another version of the matter. They main 
 tained he had really been sent out by a Jesuit com- 
 27
 
 munity, but had fallen under the influence of the 
 Unitarians, into which extreme he had flowed ; 
 then in turn the Episcopalians had had their influ 
 ence, and he had ebbed back again, and stranded 
 about half way between the two. The Jesuits 
 execrated his name ; he had played them false. 
 
 Many such stories were afloat, but the one which 
 seemed to have most coherency and probability 
 about it, was to the effect that he was a young gen 
 tleman of private fortune, connected with a sub 
 stantial and honorable family in Holland. He had 
 come to this country on his bridal trip, both of the 
 pair mere children ; and while here a child was 
 born, who died when a few years old. The mother 
 soon followed. During the sickness of the boy, 
 Ai had been touched by the attentiveness of the 
 poor villagers among whom they were cast ; who 
 did numerous little offices in their humble way for 
 the child's relief. He never returned to his native 
 land, but tried to repay the poor by kindly deeds. 
 
 This story was filled out variously as it was 
 passed along. What gave it a substantial founda 
 tion was the fact that on a shelf in his room, stood 
 a little iron locomotive aitd a train of cars. This 
 little locomotive had been seen in every home 
 containing a sick child, throughout that whole 
 community. He would take it from place to place, 
 and sit for hours and amuse the little invalids. 
 28
 
 This had been going on for several years. When 
 the machine needed brightening, he would buy a 
 little red paint to freshen up the wheels. One day 
 an accident happened, but he had the break re 
 paired at considerable expense, so precious was 
 this particular plaything to 'him, as it went on its 
 errands of mercy. 
 
 But Ai was unapproachable on the subject, and 
 nothing definite could be learned of the matter, 
 and his chilling manner on this one point for 
 bade anyone from telling him what was said or 
 supposed. 
 
 The first time I met Ai I shall never forget, al 
 though it is now over fifty years ago. There 
 was a small company at the Burrs'. A lawyer, a 
 merchant, a neighbor who had come in accident 
 ally, and perhaps one or two others were there. I 
 had never heard of Ai. One thing impressed its- 
 self. We had spent the evening in light talk, 
 with a cream ofjnore serious conversation after the 
 
 
 
 first hour, but during half of the evening, the 
 stranger seemed to have nothing to say. The 
 rest monopolized the conversation, and I had drop 
 ped him, supposing it to be a case of misfit ; some 
 relative, perhaps, brought there by courtesy, or 
 maybe a casual visitor. Still, he did not seem al 
 together indifferent to what was said. He had a 
 
 bright eye that sparkled, and as something might 
 29
 
 interest him, he would turn in his chair nervously, 
 check himself, and then settle down again* without 
 saying a word. The conversation had gone on for 
 a long time, and the problems had apparently been 
 settled ; when Enid Burr turned, and addressing 
 the quiet stranger, asked whether the matter was 
 not capable of being revised whether there was 
 not a possible amendment. 
 
 His eye flashed and in a gentle, .low voice, 
 he asked the lawyer a question which seemed to 
 stagger him. On receiving an answer he next 
 asked the neighbor a question ; this answer seemed 
 to please him, for he passed on to the next, and so 
 made the circle. Such consummate catechising 
 I never heard. He turned and overturned ; flung 
 away and then brought back again ; he cut here 
 and sewed up there, until the fabric bore little 
 resemblance to its former self. For one hour he 
 had the room to himself. No one seemed capable 
 of uttering an independent thought ; no one had 
 the courage of an idea which was not inspired and 
 brought on the scene by Ai. It was one of the 
 most remarkable instances of successful argument 
 that I had ever witnessed. What was so notice 
 able was the complete good humor that all main 
 tained. Each was taken in turn, thrown from his 
 pedestal, had his wings clipped, and then was set 
 back again, almost without knowing that it was 
 3
 
 done. We were brought around to a position in 
 which every one felt easy and at home, and yet 
 which bore no resemblance to that which we had 
 occupied before. Each felt that he really believed 
 this ; that it was a logical conclusion ; and that we 
 were now on a solid foundation ; although it was 
 almost a direct denial of the former position. And 
 it was done in a way that left no sting ; no one felt 
 himself thrown or beaten ; and nothing but the 
 utmost good humor prevailed. This is what Enid 
 meant when she asked whether there might not be 
 an amendment to this, or whether the matter was 
 not capable of revision. 
 
 We often met afterwards, but the impressions of 
 that first meeting were only strengthened by our 
 subsequent relations. "Let us get to the bottom 
 of this ; let us seek foundations," he used to say. 
 Enid roguishly called him the Amended and Re 
 vised Version ; and in the numerous companies 
 of distinguished people whom she gathered at her 
 home, she had always stowed away in some ob 
 scure corner, Ai, whom she brought on the scene 
 at the proper time. " She used him as she would 
 a race horse ; nursed his strength until the last 
 lap, and then gave the rein. Those who were 
 let into the secret said that Ai was her trump which 
 never failed. Old and knowing friends watched 
 with great interest the game which new-comers 
 3 1
 
 played so guilelessly ; and it was a constant source 
 of amusement to see how strangers were betrayed 
 into many a seemingly inextricable thicket, out of 
 which, however, they were always gallantly led in 
 the end, by Ai. 
 
 "Officer, can you tell me where Minster Street 
 is?" 
 
 " Right here. For whom are you looking? " 
 
 The ladies explained, and the officer accom 
 panied them up the narrow street, and showed 
 them the house. 
 
 "Can you tell me where I will find Minster 
 Street ? " This time it was * "o young men. They 
 also found their way up the slushy street. 
 
 "It's delightful to have you here," said Ai to 
 the bright company of young people who had 
 gathered around a blazing fire. 
 
 " I am already convinced," said one, as he ex 
 hibited his boots. "I am sorry," replied Ai, 
 "but I think you had better not rub it until it 
 dries; it will come off." 
 
 " I am glad I put on my rubber boots," added 
 one of the ladies. 
 
 His eyes twinkled as he remarked that he would 
 rather discuss these economic questions here, than 
 in some of their homes. 
 
 He had a little theory of his own, that one half 
 of the world dees not have a chance, and that it 
 32
 
 would be a great gain to have these social ques- ' 
 dons threshed out right on the ground. To wade 
 up the street was so convincing, and it made the 
 argument so forceful, better than an illustrated 
 article in a magazine. So they often met at Ai's 
 rooms. Sometimes they changed to Mrs. Burr's. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A THINKING MAN AT WORK. 
 
 You make me strange, 
 
 Even to the dlspo&itibn that I owe, 
 
 When now I think you can behold such sights, 
 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
 
 When mine are blanch'd with fear. Shakespeare. 
 
 AFTER my first meeting with Ai at Mrs. Burr's, I 
 was anxious to see a little more of him. I found 
 him one evening in his rooms on Minster Street. 
 He had a gathering of a dozen boys in his large 
 living room, which was also his study ; the boys 
 were looking over some old books, containing cu 
 rious wood-cuts, and finding amusement in the en 
 gravings of the magazines. Several were playing 
 a game, and one or two preferred the fireside, 
 where Ai was telling them something about the his 
 tory of the city, this very neighborhood in fact, 
 which at one time was considered a suburb of the 
 3 33
 
 city, and a very fine section, too ; some of the 
 houses out in the fields, surrounded by trees. This 
 was long ago. There was the little brick house 
 around the corner, that was once occupied by a 
 man who became very rich ; his grandchildren were 
 living, but scarcely knew of the existence of the 
 homestead ; they never came near the place, 
 though living not so very far away, in great luxury 
 and elegance. This little place was once consid 
 ered quite a homestead ; possibly the occupants of 
 the old place were happier than the descendants. 
 
 The boys said they had played hide-and-seek 
 around every nook and corner, every court and 
 lane, and it was all familiar to them ; but they had 
 never known that the old buildings dated back to 
 Revolutionary days ; and when Ai told them of 
 some well-known landmarks, they became quite in 
 terested. One of the boys was learning carpen 
 tering, and Ai told him of some fine speci 
 mens of arched doorways ; such work, honest and 
 lasting, was not to be seen nowadays. The boy 
 said he would go and see for himself; he was es 
 pecially interested in dormer windows and cor 
 nices ; and Ai suggested that it would really be a 
 fine thing if he could make drafts of some of the 
 old pieces of architecture, and carry the idea out 
 in the modern houses. There was a growing taste 
 for the antique, and a new idea would be paid for ; 
 34
 
 he could get no newer idea than the old ones all 
 around, and to be had for the looking, by an ob 
 serving, critical, and appreciative eye. 
 
 Here another boy suggested that he was getting 
 along nicely in his drawing, in the class which Ai 
 had started, and that he could do the sketching 
 for the carpenter, and they would form a sort of 
 partnership. " Yes, you can help one another; 
 you can draw and he can construct ; we are mu 
 tually dependent upon one another, and society 
 will get along when we learn that fact." 
 
 " There are some old spotted buildings on Race 
 Street, near Front, and on Elfreth Street, and 
 plenty of 'em along Front Street," suggested a boy 
 who -had laid aside a game and had been attracted 
 to the fireside group. They were colonial build 
 ings Ai suggested ; they used to build them with 
 black and red bricks ; the black bricks exposing 
 the ends : it made a very compact and well-knit 
 wall ; and such mortar, it was worth while laying 
 bricks in such mortar. " It would also be worth 
 your while," he added, " to find out how the mor 
 tar was made, and then search for a man who was 
 honest enough to make it, after contracting." 
 
 The boys .then leaned over closer and each made 
 
 his contribution of information concerning some 
 
 old building that was standing in some obscure 
 
 court, but which must be very old, judging by 
 
 35
 
 the door-ways and the spotted walls. " It's a 
 pity," remarked a bushy-haired fellow, "it's a 
 pity they took away the house of William 
 Perm." " It seems like taking an old tree up by 
 the roots ; it may grow, but it is probable that it 
 will not," added Ai ; "but this is a money-loving 
 age ; business and love of gain take the lead, and 
 the old site was needed." 
 
 After thus amusing and instructing these boys, 
 Ai asked me to go with him to see the gymna 
 sium. He set out a pile of books containing en 
 gravings of old landmarks, also a few architect 
 ural periodicals, and then left the boys to them 
 selves. He had about fifty boys present that 
 night, in a deep cellar under a Church, which he 
 had fitted up with swings and bars and every con 
 venience of a well-fitted gymnasium. A cellar he 
 maintained was preferable to an upper room, as 
 there was no jar on alighting in jumping ; the 
 low ceiling was a drawback, however; but it was 
 cool, even in summer. " This you see is under a 
 Church ; it lies at the foundation of the making 
 of men. You know, when you come to think 
 about it, that this subject of amusements is one 
 which we cannot evade ; and to amuse one an 
 other rationally will soon be considered one of 
 the duties between men. Many men are wicked 
 because they have at some period not been
 
 amused, or have been amused improperly. I have 
 a friend, Impey, who prophesies the day when 
 work will be the exception, only an incident in 
 life, and when men will have more time for play ; 
 and in that day there will be scope for the develop 
 ment of this idea of recreation. Work will be 
 properly remunerated ; the fruits of toil more 
 equitably distributed ; and this in connection with 
 a more rational mode of living, to save the candle 
 at the other end, will give us all more time for 
 play. It is well worth our time to pay attention to 
 the gospel of rational play." 
 
 He had fitted up a swimming-bath in the rear ; 
 and some of the boys were in it, having a hilarious 
 time.- "The body," said he, "must be kept 
 clean, and then there is a chance of men respect 
 ing themselves ; but not before. It would be in 
 teresting to inquire how many families in this 
 large city are still strangers to the bath-tub. I 
 examined into the matter, and the revelation set 
 me thinking. When men have scarcely room for 
 sleeping decently, a room for the bath is out of 
 the question. This bath is kept going all day, 
 and until late into the night ; a rotation of boys and 
 men, women and girls, at different hours. It is 
 their bath ; they pay their attendant and keep it 
 in order ; a very small fee only is required. One 
 day the pipe became clogged, and the bath was 
 37
 
 closed; I told them it \vas their affair ; they had 
 not paid their little contributions. After that 
 they were regularly paid ; and the whole was put 
 on a self-supporting basis." 
 
 As we passed through the gymnasium on our 
 return, he called my attention to a singular feat 
 ure of gymnasium life. "I wender," said he, 
 l( whether that boy who is beating that sand-bag 
 so zealously, would split kindlings for his sister. 
 There used to visit the rooms of the Y. M. C. A., 
 a genius who walked himself almost to death in 
 the ring, but always came and left in the cars. 
 A number of youths conscientiously taking care of 
 their health would strip and go through the evo 
 lutions, but had never been guilty of bringing up 
 coal or removing ashes. It is one of the most 
 interesting fields to the philosopher, this subject of 
 gymnasiums. If some one could only by some 
 secret contrivance, catch and utilize this expendi 
 ture of physical force and make it productive in 
 the direction of providing the necessaries of life, 
 it would at least feed and clothe the number who 
 visit such places. They say Burr is working out 
 an electric conceit that will work a revolution 
 some day. Burr maintains that there is enough 
 expenditure of energy at a dance, of say fifty per 
 sons, in one evening, to propel the cars on the 
 Ridge Avenue line for a whole week : and all 
 38
 
 this is wasted. No\v the bother is how to pro 
 pel those cars and at the same time not spoil the 
 fun of the evening. Burr thinks the railroad men 
 would pay a little price to get the precious force 
 now wasted at the dances of the Assembly. Have 
 you ever thought about it ! Did you ever see 
 horses sweat like those youths and gay maidens 
 in their innocent glee? " 
 
 He then led me up a narrow winding stairway 
 into the Church over the gymnasium. He was 
 having some alterations made ; an arch was being 
 constructed about midway, leaving one half of the 
 Church with raised platform for singers, the seats 
 facing one another ; while the other half was for 
 the -congregation. He had, he said, gathered 
 about fifty girls whom he had trained losing; and 
 they being mostly poorly clad were uniformed in 
 white surplices, thus obliterating anydistinction in 
 their dress. A few of the workingmen also thought 
 they ought to have preaching; so a little bird's 
 nest pulpit was hung just outside the arch. "You 
 see," he explained, " we were having mostly con 
 ferences and discussions up to this time ; but now 
 they would like to have formal addresses occa 
 sionally, and I think it will do no harm, and may 
 do good." 
 
 " You do not preach then ? " I inquired. " O, 
 no; O dear no; never did," he replied. 
 39
 
 " The matter has been rather an informal affair ; 
 these people came to me one at a time and the lit 
 tle company grew, I scarcely know how. There 
 were a number of colored laborers among them, 
 who thought we ought to have a Church, for we 
 talked of the rights of the laborer, and were on 
 the side of the desolate and the oppressed, and 
 stood up for justice in all things; there were 
 bodies who did not go so far as that, and who 
 yet had churches. If they had a right, we had. 
 And so they began ; and the result, in a few 
 years, was this little Church. The gymnasium 
 was there before, and the Church was built over it 
 as an after thought. At first we had our meetings, 
 at which I suggested a subject; sometimes read a 
 little paper by way of introduction, and then the 
 matter was thrown open for general discussion. It 
 excited a great deal of interest ; and it has been a 
 revelation to me to find how these fellows think. 
 The good sense and practical ideas of which these 
 men with rough exteriors give evidence, is really 
 quite astonishing. You must come around some 
 time ; but you must not talk ; you will find it 
 hard to keep quiet of course ; but they are back 
 ward when there is fine speech about. 
 
 " And now they think they ought to have their 
 preacher. I suggested it ought to be one of their 
 number; they ought to select the one of deepest 
 40
 
 thought and 'most practical sense. On the evening 
 of the election a little talk was indulged in, in which 
 one speaker maintained that he knew one who was 
 very eloquent, a good speaker, and who would do. 
 Another followed in which he reminded the 
 speaker who had just sat down that it was a man 
 among their number of deepest thought and prac 
 tical sense that was suggested, and now there was 
 talk of eloquence and good fluent speech. There 
 was danger on the score of words, wind in fact ; 
 there was plenty of that; what they needed was 
 one who would lead them in thought. 
 
 " The result of it all was that a big-headed Afri 
 can was chosen. He was slow of speech, but said 
 more in one sentence than the whole meeting 
 could digest for the following week ; and he al 
 ways closed with the question, ' And now what are 
 its practical aspects, how are you to live this out ? ' 
 He is one of the few men of color who have 
 learned a trade ; and is really an expert carpenter ; 
 he has gathered quite a little library on building 
 and construction ; a few of those books the boys 
 had belong to him. 
 
 "That pulpit was constructed by him and is really 
 quite a piece of art. These addresses were to be 
 only occasional, so as to avoid the snag of per- 
 functorial formalism. The preacher was to speak 
 when he had anything to say ; and under no cir-
 
 cumstance was he expected to speak merely to ful 
 fil an appointment. He could also command any 
 one to ascend the pulpit if he saw evidence of the 
 gift of thought." 
 
 Ai then led me into a little room, a sort of 
 workshop, fitted up with carpenter's bench and a 
 great variety of tools. Here he said he had given 
 boys the first introduction to the use of tools, 
 which afterwards led in many instances to their 
 learning a trade. He was anxious that the colored 
 youth should learn trades and open out various 
 avenues through which they could maintain them 
 selves ; now they seemed to be shut in and limited 
 to a few sources of livelihood. 
 
 He then took down a roll of papers and spread 
 them out on the bench. They were the plans of a 
 block of buildings in process of erection just back 
 of the Church. The condition of the courts had 
 been simply dreadful ; the poor people huddled to 
 gether like cattle ; and the surface drainage pre 
 vented all decent living. He had called the at 
 tention of Burr to the matter ; and, on inquiring, 
 found that Mrs. Burr owned property there, in the 
 hands of an agent, the location of which was not 
 even known to her. She made a visit herself one 
 day, and came again in the evening to see the 
 night life. 
 
 She was taken sick and was laid up for a week 
 42
 
 with nervous prostration after what she saw and 
 heard ; and right on her own property, too. They 
 were now having the matter attended to; and 
 while they were about it they got other property 
 owners interested, neighbors of the Hamiltons and 
 pew holders in the same Church, who also were in 
 formed by their agents that the property was 
 theirs. 
 
 "You see we have the whole block now, with 
 all the courts in the rear ; and this is the plan upon 
 which the new buildings will be erected. Of 
 course all the rookeries will be torn down, and the 
 wells filled up, and a complete system of drainage 
 will be constructed throughout. The buildings 
 will be two stories higher, but that will give more 
 room for open spaces ; and instead of the numer 
 ous courts lined with one story shanties we will 
 build rooms upward and convert the little courts 
 into an attractive park ; every family having an 
 outlook upon this park. And I have made sure to 
 arrange that the same poor people who have been 
 displaced from their mean homes, will really come 
 back and occupy the improved dwellings. There 
 will be no moving in of a different class of people, 
 paying higher rents, and then having this pass as 
 an improvement of the neighborhood and an eleva 
 tion of the inhabitants. Nothing of the sort. The 
 same people will live there ; there will be no driv- 
 43
 
 ing out of the very people who need this, and the 
 bringing in of a class who do not need it. 
 
 "See, here will be a music stand for summer 
 night concerts. There is considerable home 
 talent among the poor, and they will be encour 
 aged to organize and make their contribution to 
 the common weal. The orgies are simply fright 
 ful. These musicians will be sought out and 
 brought together." 
 
 Then he spread out another plan, giving the de 
 tails of the dwellings. " These," said he, "are 
 really not the original drawings ; the original 
 drawings can scarcely be recognized after Enid 
 Burr's alterations. It takes a woman to plan the 
 inside of a home and to secure closets and other 
 handy arrangements. She laughs at the idea of a 
 man being the architect of the inside of a home ; 
 and to see the plans of some houses one must con 
 fess that she has the better of the argument. They 
 are getting under way with the buildings, and I 
 hope to see the poor people soon settled in their 
 new homes. 
 
 " Many have gone to the country, where they are 
 employed in berrying and fruiting; they live in 
 tents, mostly, and it gives an opportunity to 
 build without much inconvenience to them. 
 
 " They say this new venture has created a great 
 interest ; and the prospect is that there will be a 
 44
 
 general hauling down of the rookeries. Enid Burr 
 is carrying the question right into the enemy's 
 camp. Last summer at Bar Harbor, she won over 
 a host of the elite who are spending at expensive 
 hotels the money paid in rents by these wretched 
 poor. That woman is a host." 
 
 He then suggested that we return to the boys in 
 his room. My time was limited, and I took leave 
 of him at the end of the narrow, filthy street, the 
 stench of the surface drainage almost suffocating 
 me. "I don't like it myself," said he, "but it 
 seems it is the only way to bring us thoughtless 
 and heartless souls to a sense of the condition of 
 things. I breathed this air and that set me think 
 ing. Men are good-hearted enough, but they 
 don't think; and we must do something to make 
 them think. One half does not know how the 
 other half lives, and we must get both halves to 
 think." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A WORKING MAN A-THINKING. 
 
 On Beauty's foot, your slippers glance, 
 By Saratoga's fountains, 
 Or twinkle down the summer dance 
 Beneath the Crystal Mountains. M'hittier. 
 
 MrcH of my information was secured through 
 45
 
 my friend Impey, whose active life covered the 
 period of which I write. As Impey plays so large 
 a part in our world, perhaps a little personal in 
 formation would not be out of place. 
 
 Mr. Israel Impey, after graduating from Har 
 vard, came to Philadelphia a young man of 
 twenty-three, and secured unimportant positions 
 in several offices for a year. Daring this year the 
 labor troubles of sixty years ago caused agitations 
 with regard to the hours that should constitute a 
 day's work , and Impey took an active interest in 
 the matter, taking the ground that men labored 
 too much and needed more time for recreation. 
 He maintained that a single man could support 
 himself by laboring three hours a day ; and by 
 the time a man got ready to marry, his skill and 
 experience ought to enable him to maintain a 
 household by laboring six hours per day. This 
 was not all a theory with Impey, but he set about 
 to make an actual demonstration of it, and chose 
 shoemaking as his means of livelihood. This for 
 several reasons. In the village where he was 
 born, he had spent as a boy a good deal of his 
 time loitering around shoemakers' shops, and had 
 actually served a year, during which time he had 
 developed a remarkable skill for making a com 
 plete shoe. He was a shoemaker who made a com 
 plete shoe. The race has almost died out, and 
 46
 
 only in the remote districts are to be found old 
 men who can boast of being shoemakers. The 
 cities are full of vampers and heelers, but Impey is 
 a shoemaker. This little accident of having a trade 
 was one of the reasons that guided him in his 
 choice. But aside from the fact of knowing the 
 trade, he maintained that there was no other em 
 ployment that afforded him so much practical leis 
 ure. He could control his hours, and that was 
 everything. The machinist must conform to the 
 demands of his employer ; the physician must go 
 when called for ; the financier must compete with 
 other financiers ; all trades and employments are 
 surrounded by circumstances which make long 
 hours imperative. But while at shoemaking a man 
 can refuse orders, reduce his working hours at his 
 pleasure, and when work is done, has no cares and 
 anxieties, and can devote himself to self improve 
 ment and congenial leisurely occupation. He 
 can close business in three days, fulfill all his 
 obligations and disappoint nobody ; and this ad 
 vantage of extricating oneself is one of the luxur 
 ies of living. The lawyer cannot do it, his cases 
 are pending ; the physician cannot humanity de 
 mands that he should not desert a case ; banking, 
 manufacturing on a large scale, railroading all 
 the employments of life seem characterized by this, 
 that when you are once in them you cannot get 
 47
 
 out. They are rat-traps; or they are play-houses 
 you wish to stay until it is all over; they compel you 
 to goon ; they place you under obligations. It is 
 death only that will extricate you and even then 
 your friends will not excuse you, but will think 
 themselves wronged ; they will think your obliga 
 tions not fulfilled and will see you to your grave 
 with hearts filled with blame, if not resentment. 
 Impey philosophically went over the whole matter 
 and settled upon shoemaking, which met with his 
 ideal of combining labor with plenty of leisure, 
 during which he could gratify his taste for litera 
 ture. And as said before, he happened to have a 
 skill with awl and pegs ; but that was a mere acci 
 dent; he would have reasoned himself into the same 
 position, had he never seen an awl ; and his prac 
 tical turn of mind would have led him to learn the 
 trade even had he been obliged to go to a remote 
 district or to some foreign country to do so. Im 
 pey opened his shop at No. 3, Chancery Lane, a 
 narrow street running off Arch Street, below Sec 
 ond ; in a quaint colonial house with fine arched 
 doorway, hip roof and dormer window. He 
 hung out a lady's shoe, with information that it 
 had been made complete within, and that each 
 shoe would be mended as long as desired, free of 
 cost. The novelty attracted attention, and the 
 young business men, who had their ware-houses in
 
 that district sixty years ago, talked of the matter 
 to their wives and suggested that it would be a 
 good thing to get their shoes there ; the cobbling 
 would be thrown in ; besides the shoe was unmis 
 takably a genuine hand-made shoe. It never oc 
 curred to the young husbands that the shoe was a 
 lady's shoe, and they learned the limitations of the 
 business when they applied for measurements and 
 were peremptorily refused. Impey catered only to 
 ladies and that also decided the matter that the 
 cobbling was exclusively for ladies ; which also 
 had a peculiar interest, as we shall see farther on. 
 That matter alone caused comment, which was an 
 advertisement. The ladies of course admired his 
 gallantry, and the husbands saw in it an advantage, 
 as it made a man more skillful when devoted to one 
 particular line of work ; so the business at once 
 grew into fair proportions, and by and by Impey 
 was necessitated to refuse orders and confine him 
 self to his regular customers. Everything was ar 
 ranged and regulated in a business-like way. He 
 knew how many pairs of shoes they would order per 
 year, and when, and the price ; and allowing for 
 the cobbling he had reduced the whole to a sys 
 tem, which made his income regular and ample, 
 and gave him that leisure which. he so much de 
 sired, and which he maintained would be a sine 
 4 49
 
 qua non attending all employments when society 
 should be properly and sanely constituted. 
 
 What, however, gave no little impetus to his 
 business, aside from the excellent workmanship, 
 was the literary bent which he exhibited. Belated 
 business men would pass the lighted window and 
 see him pondering over some huge volume, by the 
 light of a large lamp suspended low by his knees, 
 after the custom of cobblers. The window had a 
 solitary pair of ladies' shoes, with the note con 
 cerning the cobbling, which was to be thrown in, 
 and the rest of the window was piled with maga 
 zines, reviews, books, and papers in infinite 
 variety. It was puzzling to many, and it was 
 quite often taken for a second-hand book store. 
 No one ever saw him cobble by lamp-light, as was 
 so universally the custom, with cobblers, but the 
 Review or the latest book occupied his evening 
 leisure. All this seemed odd, and the talk it 
 caused brought him instantaneous success. 
 
 He might have been considered odd at first ac 
 quaintance, but no one thought him so who really 
 knew him. Those who expected to see a man with 
 a certain flash of genius, but with unmistakable 
 marks of the half educated mechanic, were sure to 
 be surprised. He was a graduate of Harvard ; and 
 all the culture there obtained was only sharpened 
 by years. If on the other hand anyone expected 
 5.
 
 to find a true literary genius, but slouchy and re 
 pulsive and utterly unfit for polite society, he was 
 soon disabused of his preconceived opinions, by 
 seeing a gentleman in every sense of the word, in 
 dress and manners thoroughly in accord with the 
 usages of the best society. When on the bench 
 he wore rough substantial clothing and the conven 
 tional shoemaker's apron. He loved the loose fitting 
 shoes or slippers unmended, usual to shoemakers. 
 This was no affectation, but it gave him comfort 
 while at work. Those who expected to see the 
 cobbler at work in a neat, tailor-made, well- 
 brushed suit, paid little compliment to his good 
 sense and habit of adaptation. His dress was the 
 conventional shoemakers', and any deviation from 
 it would have been an affectation which he 
 scorned. When, however, his three hours' work was 
 over, he would take his bath, arrange his toilet, 
 and step out upon the pavement in as neat a cos 
 tume as was to be seen on Chestnut Street. This 
 was really a matter of economy, he maintained. 
 The genius who affects baggy trousers, and oddly 
 cut coat, and remarkable hat, pays a premium for 
 the cut. It is cheaper to buy a hat in the market, 
 and clothes that are made for the season. Fashion 
 did not enslave him, but his purse dictated that he 
 had better follow it within prudent lines. His 
 custom was to spend his mornings in the book 
 5 1
 
 stores and libraries, where he was a well known 
 visitor. He preferred the morning when his mind 
 was fresh and receptive. At one o'clock precisely, 
 he would don his rough clothes, and go to his 
 bench, and work until four. This rested his brain 
 and brought him bread. He then would dress 
 again, take a promenade on some busy street, 
 look at windows and study character, and then de 
 vote his evenings to such society engagements as he 
 might have. He had a little alcove curtained off 
 from his room, in which he slept ; a mat covered one 
 half of his room, and a corner was exclusively de 
 voted to his work and its litter, which was kept 
 unusually brushed and tended. His room 
 frequented by ladies was not unsightly, neither was 
 it characterized by such primness as to make his 
 trade seem incongruous to the place. There was 
 a happy medium between primness and slovenli 
 ness, which never called forth remark, but which 
 was really remarkable. He believed in good liv 
 ing. A man, to be really and fully a man, must 
 be properly fed. He traced the iniquities of the 
 day to bad feeding. One half of the world is un 
 derfed and the other half overfed, he maintained ; 
 and so men have a hard time living rightly. He 
 dined at no particular place, but was in the habi.t 
 of changing about, at one restaurant and then at 
 another ; and if his appetite did not call for it, 
 5 2
 
 I 
 
 at none. This was not penuriousness, it was fol 
 lowing a law of nature. If his appetite called for 
 it he would go to the best hotel, order the most 
 expensive and elaborate dinner, and take all the 
 time he desired, and make a success of his under 
 taking. The time of year, the weather, his health, 
 all had a regulating influence. He lived regularly 
 and well, and he believed in it ; and to do so, a 
 man without vices need not work more than 
 three hours per day. This was a fundamental 
 doctrine of his, and he gave the matter a practi 
 cal test ; and the change of mind on this subject 
 wrought during the past fifty years was brought 
 about largely by 'the personal influence of Israel 
 Impey. He was no empty dreamer, no impracti 
 cable theorist, but his cool every day demonstrations 
 infected those around him. " There is a man who 
 does not believe in working fast nor in living 
 fast," was remarked many times a day as he was 
 met in his daily promenades. 
 
 " Men burn the candle at both ends, that is the 
 trouble," he used to say. " They live too fast and 
 then try to make up by working, which is lighting 
 the other end. Work is an accident of the 
 world. Play and congenial employment ought to 
 be the rule ; and when we rationalize our leisure, 
 we will have more of it, and the toil of life will 
 be reduced to a minimum. We must stop the 
 53
 
 leaks; senseless luxuries, and riotous indulgence 
 are two of them ; when these are stopped, the 
 inflow need not be so large." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A LITTLE LKAVF.N. 
 
 A merry bridal life, fair as a legend, vast as a dream. Ibsen. 
 
 THE Burrs had become settled in their homes 
 on Congress Street. The twin houses had been 
 connected by the covered veranda, which was 
 overrun with blooming roses. At the other side 
 of each house was built a smaller porch for the 
 private use of the family. It was an Edenic, happy 
 life they led, full of little romances and incidents. 
 The veranda was used in common, and here they 
 mingled daily and entertained their friends. 
 
 The poor of the neighborhood were made wel 
 come there ; and when the nights became cool, 
 they found a welcome by the fireside, and partook 
 of the amenities of these happy homes. 
 
 They by a mutual arrangement had a common 
 
 table, and meals throughout the warm season were 
 
 served on the veranda, which was a fairy bower of 
 
 plants and vines. This with the bright and taste- 
 
 54
 
 ful dresses of the sisters, accompanied by cheerful 
 and helpful conversation, made the scene one which 
 had its healthful influence upon such as thought 
 little of the hour of refreshment as a season of re 
 laxation and delight. 
 
 " Look at that happy picture," the passers-by 
 would say ; and many such a picture has since been 
 created ; and slips from those vines and flowers 
 have sprouted in many humble homes throughout 
 the neighborhood. The happiness in this home 
 became contagious. The brothers always came 
 home for their meals and the intervals were too 
 long and the stays too short. It was one of the 
 marked features of this movement toward the an 
 cestral homes that husbands now came home at noon 
 and brought their business friends with them. The 
 home-life was emphasized and this brought about 
 the decay of the saloon. The twin sisters played 
 their little pranks and there was infinite amuse 
 ment in the little mistakes the twin brothers fell 
 into while trying to identify their wives. The 
 brides would persist in dressing alike j every wave 
 in their hair, every blush in their cheeks, were 
 exactly alike ; even the dimples were placed with 
 mathematical exactness. They were the pretty 
 Hamilton girls ; and where one was invited they 
 both appeared, and when one only was meant 
 the other frequently substituted with impunity. 
 55
 
 This roguishness never deserted them, and it had 
 its sequels of merriment. To get over the mat 
 ter each husband kissed both the pretty wives 
 and then made a guess, and particularized ; and 
 then to make sure that no mistake was made, 
 kissed both again. And thus the coming home 
 of tired husbands was rich with fun and merri 
 ment. 
 
 There was only one mark to distinguish them 
 the clear bell-like voice of Enid. No one can 
 describe a voice that charms. You can describe 
 a voice that grates upon your nerves, but a voice 
 that charms is hard to tell about, it simply 
 charms. . Both voices were pleasing, but Enid's 
 charmed. So it was necessary to suppress the 
 laugh ; and many a jest fell flat before the tell 
 tale laugh was extracted. 
 
 This matter of twins had its practical conven 
 iences. One-half the worry about the wardrobes 
 was saved; each in turn trusted the other in se 
 lection, and they always ordered double. They 
 took turns at shopping, and there never was the 
 slightest dissatisfaction. They were born with 
 tastes alike. The culinary arrangements were also 
 greatly simplified, for the choice of one proved 
 the choice of the other, and the good husbands 
 never lost confidence in their judgment. 
 
 This joyous bridal life continued until the end 
 56
 
 of the second year, when a baby girl was born 
 to Enid. From this date on the little deceptions 
 were rendered more difficult. The babe knew no 
 stranger, and unhesitatingly chose its mother for 
 bosom friend, and never made a mistake. This 
 led to numerous inglorious betrayals when the old 
 tricks were attempted. The little. girl would come 
 upon the scene at an inconvenient time ; and one 
 day when in a spirit of banter an experiment was 
 made, it knew its own father. It was voted a 
 great girl and a wise one, by the merry company. 
 And all this happiness within spread to the homes 
 around. The high and ugly fence that once sur 
 rounded the premises was taken down, and the 
 beauty of the place became common property. 
 The little group of trees with their fine cool shade 
 had under them restful benches plentifully cov 
 ered with cheerful paint. 
 
 Tired mothers brought their little ones to romp 
 and play on the lawn. A few hammocks and 
 swings were hung and all was placed at the dis 
 posal of any who needed them. They proved a 
 great blessing and many availed themselves of the 
 cool shade and the cheerful surroundings. An ar 
 tesian well was sunk several hundred feet deep, the 
 analysis of the water proving it to contain medicinal 
 qualities, and the place was regarded as a sanitar 
 ium for sickly children. A chest filled with med- 
 57
 
 icines and bandages was placed near the door and 
 Alice Burr was the medical adviser of the poor. 
 Her busy life afforded her yet a little time for the 
 pursuit of studies in the science of health, and she 
 had gathered quite a little library. The curious 
 could not quite make out what school she belonged 
 to, Allopathic or Homeopathic, she used that which 
 healed, and skipped from one to the other. 
 
 They had great faith in her, and this confidence, 
 excited by her sympathy and personal interest } 
 made medicines less necessary, and she believed in 
 the use of few medicines and plenty of sanitation. 
 She emphasized the preventive methods. She 
 preached the gospel of pure soap, and a plenty of 
 water, and had a row of bath tubs for babies in 
 constant use. But the trouble was with clean 
 clothing. In the struggle for bread, the wardrobe 
 was sadly forgotten, and this brought many piti 
 ful facts to her notice. She gave special instruc 
 tion in sanitation, and personally took a stitch to 
 lead others in the way. 
 
 One of the helpful plans was her encouragement 
 to pluck the flowers. The r was no wistful longing 
 look at the bright flowers, that remained ungrati- 
 fied. Yet there was no wanton waste, for the 
 boys and girls understood. There were upon the 
 table on the veranda a number of magnifying 
 glasses and a portfolio of specimens and charts; 
 58
 
 and every boy could have a flower if he first 
 looked, examined, analyzed, distinguished, named, 
 and made intelligently his own. Thus during va 
 cation days there was quite a class in botany ; this 
 led to intelligent plucking. These little classes 
 spread throughout the neighborhood ; the more in 
 telligent became little lecturers. Glasses were 
 given as birthday gifts. At times grand parties 
 were organized, and many children were led away 
 from the narrow streets to the fields and hills. 
 Many supposed they were having a pleasure trip, 
 but they really were studying botany ; some 
 thought they were studying botany, but they really 
 were getting health. 
 
 Thus this bridal life began in the unselfish seek 
 ing of others' happiness, and in it all they found 
 their own. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A FEAST OF REASON. 
 
 How many a thought is split up, ho\v many a vigorous will is dulled, 
 how many a bold cry is deadened, by a contracted, narrow-minded 
 soul like that. Brand. 
 
 " I WILL be home as usual for dinner and I may 
 bring a friend along, a friend too of Edison's, 
 quite a scientist; " and the electrician passed 
 59
 
 out. The other Burr added that he too might 
 bring a friend. It used* to be treat. " Well, that 
 will be nice," said Enid, " for Ai is coming to see 
 about something in the plans for the new tene 
 ments, and I will ask him to stay; your friends 
 will be glad to meet him." At this Alice grew 
 interested, for her mind was set running on what 
 she should provide ; for it had fallen to her lot 
 to be the caterer, through natural fitness and a 
 consummate genius for making dainty little dishes, 
 entirely original, which kept her friends forever 
 asking her for the receipts, they were so delicious. 
 And now she might as well ask the bishop down ; 
 it was a little late, but a note would reach him at 
 once, as he would certainly be in at office hours, 
 and he would be sure to come, he always did, no 
 matter how short the notice. Alice's cheeks 
 burned at the thought of the numerous little com 
 pliments which the prelate had paid her ; and she 
 resolved to do herself justice by again providing 
 something that would surely merit the bishop's 
 approval. The bishop had a weakness for pastry, 
 and if there was anything Alice Burr excelled in, 
 it was her dainty pastry and exquisite desserts. 
 She had something entirely new, and the bishop 
 must be made one of the company. The brothers, 
 who had started for business, had forgotten their 
 bags, and returned. They found it difficult to 
 60
 
 leave that happy home, their pretty wives enticing 
 them. One had put on her long white working 
 apron, reaching to her chin, and was standing 
 before a high desk upon which was pinned the half 
 finished plans of the tenements ; the other had a 
 like apron, and was getting together the materials 
 for the pastry. It was a scene that explained the 
 reason why the Burr brothers longed to get home, 
 and why they were so anxious to have their friends 
 come with them, and occupy the empty chairs 
 which were always placed at the table. 
 
 When the brothers were seen returning, the wives 
 exchanged places, and Alice affected a knowledge 
 of lines and angles while Enid seemed to love 
 pastry making. But their little snare miscarried ; 
 the baby was brought in and defeated their plans 
 ingloriously, and the brothers were pushed out 
 upon the veranda and the door bolted after 
 them. 
 
 The conversation at the table turned upon social 
 topics. 
 
 " We will have taken a great stride in the solu 
 tion of this matter," said Ai, " when we are wise 
 enough to apply to the slums the same principles 
 and the same common sense that the farmer does 
 in raising his choice fruits or breeding his cattle." 
 At this the bishop looked up but said nothing, he 
 61
 
 did not seem to understand, and so directed his 
 attention again to his plate. 
 
 " Very true," interjected Mr. Summers, the 
 electrician, and the friend of Edison ; "the sooner 
 we apply scientific principles in all these matters, 
 the better. Man is an animal ; there are grades 
 of course, but he is an animal, and subject to laws, 
 and we must recognize them." 
 
 ''I propose to do so," continued Ai, "and 
 will raise my people in the slums on scientific 
 principles,, just like a herd of cattle." 
 
 At this the bishop looked up again, but it was only 
 momentarily ; he said nothing. Then Alice asked 
 sweetly whether they were not a little better than 
 cattle. 
 
 " That is just what I think ; a great deal better ; 
 xnd therefore we should seek to treat them at least 
 as well as cattle, which is hardly the case at 
 present ; I cannot, however, go into that matter 
 now, but only refer you to the interesting fact of 
 Mr. Midas's stable, which he has built with all 
 the modern improvements ; and then the other in 
 teresting fact, the place which his stable boy sleeps 
 in down in the slums ; but I am sure Midas does 
 not know it ; even he would alter matters if he 
 did." 
 
 "What are some of your scientific principles?" 
 asked the friend of Edison. 
 62
 
 " We must lay it down as a hard and fast rule 
 that humanity as we find it in the slums can only 
 be improved on principles of Natural Selection." 
 
 " By that, you mean what ? " 
 
 " That men can be improved only by aiding and* 
 cultivating the fittest ; the farmer would say, by 
 killing off bad stock, and carefully crossing the 
 best stock, and giving them scientific attention 
 with regard to housing and feeding. The gardener 
 would say, by rooting out and burning up the 
 weeds, and giving plenty of room thereby .to the 
 goed plants, that need nourishment and careful 
 scientific attention." 
 
 The eye of the scientist twinkled. Alice felt 
 bewildered at the bloodshed suggested. Enid 
 thought the plan of proper housing a sound one. 
 
 The bishop had ceased listening, in his efforts 
 to do justice to the feast which Alice so carefully 
 had provided. 
 
 " First of all, we must kill off the diseased and 
 maimed cattle, and then secondly we must breed 
 carefully the fittest ; these are the two lines of 
 action ; and it must be done scientifically ; we 
 must do just as nature does in everything ; the 
 process is a slow one, but sure, and will be inter 
 esting to the social philosopher." 
 
 Alice again mildly asked whether we had a right 
 to kill men to improve the rest, just like cattle. 
 63
 
 " We are doing it," fiercely suggested Impey, 
 
 who had just then come in, a little late, he said, 
 
 on account of the cars. "Do we not kill men 
 
 with the rope, as we would no animal on the face 
 
 'of this beautiful earth." 
 
 Ai then explained that the diseased and sickly 
 cattle were killed to avoid propagating their kind, 
 and that was the thing to be aimed at .by the 
 social philosopher and society improver; "you 
 must mark your imperfect man and then cut off his 
 line of descent." All raised their eyebrows but 
 one. 
 
 Alice had asked the bishop whether he would 
 not have another dish and then insisted, if only 
 to keep her company, and then they became de 
 voted to one another. 
 
 Edison's friend remarked that there was enough 
 of this damning children before they were born. 
 Those priests were right in baptizing babies for 
 their good before they were born, as the theo 
 logians admit has been done ; the principle was a 
 sound one ; if it did any good at all, that was 
 the time before they were born ; many were 
 damned as early, and if anything availed that 
 was a fitting time to begin. 
 
 Here Impey took another cup of coffee and 
 smiled at the drift the conversation was taking, 
 and suggested they did not need any stimulant 
 64
 
 from him to bring them to the truth. Summers 
 said, '-'Here your statesman and legislator would 
 come to our aid very fittingly if they were social 
 philosophers ; but it is sad, very sad. The unfit 
 come under the cognizance of the law in a perfect 
 society, and by a separation from society the line 
 of descent can be cut off. I would have your 
 habitual criminal treated as a diseased person. 
 The stern facts of inheritance must be faced, and 
 means taken to prevent the propagation of the 
 morally diseased. You must look after the dis 
 eased moral nature, as you would the yellow 
 fever. Yet how slow the public mind moves in 
 this matter. We officer a boat to quarantine the 
 infected vessel, and then allow to run at large the 
 morally diseased, and permit them to spread their 
 polluted selves over the whole fabric of society. 
 Heroic measures are adopted in case of an 
 epidemic, but we are still blind to the proper ex 
 pedients to be employed to prevent the spread of 
 the evil traits of the criminal." 
 
 "The criminal," added Impey "must become 
 as one dead to the world, killed for practical 
 purposes. The scientific breeding of men and the 
 raising of the standard of manhood is yet in its 
 infancy." 
 
 " You are an unmarried man I believe," sug 
 gested Burr, to the merriment of the company. 
 5 65
 
 " So you would not really kill, as they do the 
 aged and the maimed in some heathen countries." 
 softly asked Alice, " that, it would seem, were 
 not humane." 
 
 "No, they must be killed for ail practical 
 purposes; human scientific treatment must be 
 applied to criminals; they are diseased. Some are 
 more hopeful cases than others, and can be re 
 stored to health." 
 
 " I think the indefinite term of imprisonment 
 is the proper thing," added Summers, "you 
 quarantine your ship until the disease has been 
 exterminated, but your judges still sentence to a 
 definite term of days. Think of a doctor setting 
 a time in which to do his work ; to cure a stub 
 born rheumatism, or to get a baby born for in 
 stance." " That would be a popular practitioner, 
 if he were always successful," suggested Enid. 
 
 The company laughed hilariously, and the 
 bishop woke up confusedly, and wondered at 
 what it might be. 
 
 "Your preacher is not so much needed as your 
 doctor," explained Impey, for the bishop's bene 
 fit, " and you must have the co-operation of your 
 philosophical legislator so as to be able to coerce 
 the diseased portion of society, bring them under 
 proper restraint, and thus hinder the descent of 
 the incurable, and restore to active usefulness 
 66
 
 the hopeful. Less preaching and more scientific 
 treatment." 
 
 " Still you will admit the Church to have been 
 a powerful factor in the world," interposed the 
 bishop, nerving himself up to a proper and digni 
 fied defence. 
 
 "Yes, in the past," replied Impey ; "but her 
 influence in the future will depend largely upon 
 her adaptation to the times, and her brightness in 
 keeping abreast with the intelligence and throb 
 bing thought of the age." 
 
 . "Your salads are delicious," said the bishop, 
 turning to Alice, and then he again dropped out 
 of the general conversation. 
 
 "The stolidness of the ecclesiastical mind with 
 regard to the apprehension of scientific facts, is 
 amazing, as for instance in Italy, where the at 
 tempt to disinfect the cholera districts resulted in 
 the murder of the officials, and where priestly 
 processions and holy water took the place of 
 quarantine and carbolic acid." This broadside 
 of Impey's was not even heard by the bishop, who 
 was an excellent judge of delicacies, and had now 
 become interested in a little conversation with 
 Alice with regard to a new dish. 
 
 "This undoubtedly is the first thing we must 
 make society see," said Ai ; " that society grows 
 better or worse according to natural laws, and 
 67
 
 that these laws must be recognized ; and the first 
 thing to be done is to kill, as the herdsman would 
 say, or weed out, as the farmer would term it, or 
 put under restraint, as the officer of the law would 
 have it ; and thus hinder a propagating of diseased 
 cattle, stop the spreading of noxious weeds, and 
 prevent the generating of a rotten society. In short 
 we must suppress the idle, the vicious, and incompe 
 tent, and help the industrious and well inten- 
 tioned." 
 
 "To do this," added Enid, " is aherculean 
 task; the matter of suppressing alone meets with 
 many oppositions, even from some who seem to 
 have the welfare of society at heart. There is a 
 friend of mine who cannot resist importuning the 
 magistrate whenever a man who has beaten his 
 wife gets into the House of Correction. She 
 has freed a number, who have gone on beating, 
 and bringing to the birth children meanwhile, 
 who add to the burden of the poor dishearted wo 
 man in her efforts to support the family, includ 
 ing the vagabond husband." 
 
 "Such sentimental women ought themselves be 
 restrained," remarked Burr, the electrician. 
 
 "And the magistrates ought to take the place of 
 the vagabonds," suggested the other Burr. 
 
 "Then," continued Enid, "another hindrance 
 to suppression is indiscriminate feeding. We do 
 68
 
 not feed our vermin, but we make fat these pests, 
 and allow them to crawl over the face of society, 
 and imagine ourselves philanthropic in so doing. 
 There are still some who give to beggars on the 
 street. A good deal has however been done by 
 our methods of organized charity, and there is a 
 feeling after a more rational method in our re 
 lief. It is all yet imperfect, but we are intending 
 good, and we will gradually feel our way to the 
 right and the light, and then even the most senti 
 mental will come and join us in our efforts to 
 ward rational relief." 
 
 "I have my pockets full of wood-pile tickets," 
 said Impey, " but no one seems to want them. I 
 am accosted by swarthy fellows by the half dozen 
 every day, but I have not gotten rid of a ticket for 
 a long time ; mention the Wayfarer's Lodge, and 
 they dodge around the corner in an instant." 
 And then fearing the conversation was taking a 
 too pessimistic tone, Ai remarked : "It is interest 
 ing to see how in our efforts to quarantine the 
 evil ones, we find many, even in the heart of 
 the slums themselves, who are only incompetent ; 
 they are not vicious, not intemperate, but seem 
 well disposed, and there are some old persons 
 who command our pity and sense of justice. 
 These must be cared for ; easy labor must be given 
 them ; and there opens here a work and labor of 
 69
 
 love which is infinite in its ramification nd is a 
 wide field for those who want some helpful work 
 to do. These incompetent persons can be wisely 
 aided by the personal service of those stronger 
 and more able ; and to secure such personal serv 
 ice is the great need of our day." 
 
 "Yes," interjected Impey, "give all a free 
 wide field and a fair chance ; but if one will not 
 work and will persist in his vagabondage, then he 
 comes under the cognizance of the law, and his 
 liberty must be abridged." 
 
 " There are then two things we have found out," 
 mused Ai ; " first, quarantine the evil classes; and 
 secondly, plant on good ground the deserving 
 poor." Summers here suggested how sometimes 
 in the heart of the slums there is found a child 
 that seems to be of a superior mould ; and thought 
 this weeding out requires great care and intelli 
 gent insight, which makes personal service of ex 
 perts almost a necessity, lest the good sprout be 
 pulled up in the weeding process. There is some 
 times in the same family one who seems different 
 from all the rest, an oak among the weeds, 
 bright, vigorous, superior. It is interesting, this 
 study of men. 
 
 "This," thundered Impey, "opens out an in 
 teresting subject awful in its truth, growing out 
 of the low moral standard of society. It is simply 
 70
 
 the introduction of new seed and blood ; and 
 when many of the so-called upper classes 
 will think a moment, they will see that in work 
 ing for the good of the children of the slums, 
 they are at random only caring for their own flesh 
 and blood. The thought is a terrible one I know, 
 but the facts must be faced. To me, the duty 
 ringing in our ears is not to trace in ingenious and 
 finely spun theological phrases, the pedigree of the 
 Son of God, but to inquire concerning this son of 
 man. Whose son is he, this child in your mission 
 school ; whose son is he, this waif on the street ; 
 whose son is he, this child in the asylum ; whose 
 son is he, this child advertised for adoption ; 
 whose son is he, this child receiving a man's 
 caresses and a mother's smiles? These are ques 
 tions terrible to enter upon, but t-his social regen 
 eration demands that they be faced ; and we can 
 not evade them." 
 
 The bishop did not even hear this, being ab 
 sorbed inhis second dish of dessert. When he had 
 finished, one of the brothers suggested that they 
 look at the efforts of the little architect in solving 
 this question of planting the deserving poor on 
 good ground, and giving humanity a chance to 
 grow. The plans of the tenements were under 
 way, and Enid spread them out on the high desk
 
 for the criticism and suggestions of the com 
 pany. 
 
 "I hear," said Enid, after having givenlittle 
 explanations of the details, " that Esther Airy is 
 to take 422 S. Front Street. She has been engaged 
 for only a short time, but will be married soon, 
 and she insists that it must be in the old home 
 stead where she proposes to live. It created a little 
 storm in the family ; her mother especially was 
 mortified at this freak, as she termed it; but little 
 Esther was firm, and has outweathered the storm. 
 It is a fine old place, built in 1798, with all the 
 old time spacious arrangements of halls and rooms, 
 and solid mahogany doors. And such carved 
 work ! It puts your weak imitations of the antique 
 far into the shade. Esther will be quite an ac 
 quisition to our neighborhood, she is a wide 
 awake, noble-spirited girl, and takes a great in 
 terest in seamen, and has collected quite a little 
 library on subjects relating to the sea and navi 
 gation. This house they say has for a long 
 time been a stopping place for sailors, and she pro 
 poses building a special hotel for them, and so 
 she will really not be crowding out anybody." 
 72
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 EARTH TO EARTH. 
 
 How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot ? 
 
 Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, he will last you some eight 
 
 year or nine year : a tanner will last you nine year." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 A PROCESSION stately and decorous ; ceremonies 
 proper and imposing ; words, words, words ; an 
 absence of the sorrowing poor ; a grave not wide, 
 not deep the burial of a bisho'p. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 AN ELECTION THAT WAS ALSO A CHOICE. 
 
 The gods to their dear shelter take thee 
 
 That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said ! 
 
 And your large speeches may your deeds approve. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 THERE was no immediate shock, but the shock 
 came a few days afterwards when the question was 
 passed, " Whom shall we have now ; who shall be 
 our bishop ? " 
 
 Presentiments of a social revolution were in the 
 73
 
 air, and as the question of leadership was passed 
 along, the excitement grew in intensity. Before 
 the clergy met for the usual action in a regular 
 way, there had been the spontaneous throbbing of 
 the heart of the people. It was an informal meet 
 ing. 
 
 The scene was one long to be remembered. 
 Wealth, culture, refinement were evidenced all 
 around, but here and there was also an isolated ig 
 norant negro, a lone Chinaman, a laborer with 
 horny hands, attesting to the coming dawn of a 
 real catholicity and brotherhood. The voice of 
 the people was heard^. 
 
 First, the mistakes to be avoided, the man not 
 to be chosen. 
 
 One man arose and said, "I know a prelate who 
 is a timeserver." 
 
 "Let us profit by the shameful spectacle," in 
 terjected some one. 
 
 Another added, " Yes, and is ostentatious." 
 
 Then followed in rapid succession the free 
 speech of the assembly. 
 
 " I know one who is cruel." 
 
 " I know one who is mercenary." 
 
 " I know one who is lazy." 
 
 " And I one who is not well read." 
 
 "I know one who slandered his clergy offi : 
 cially." 
 
 74
 
 "I know one who worshipped policy as a god." 
 
 " I know one who never laughed." 
 
 " I one who affected wisdom in his pose." 
 
 " I know one who loves money." 
 
 " I know one who despised the poor." 
 
 " And I one who loved the rich." 
 
 " I know one who always went with the major 
 ity." . 
 
 " I know one who robbed, legally.' 1 '' 
 
 " I know one who tried to coerce thinkers." 
 
 " Stop, kind friends," interposed a venerable 
 man with bushy eyebrows and .flowing beard ; 
 "let this not go further; let us seek after the 
 things which make for peace." 
 
 "No ! no ! let us have free speech ; let in the 
 air, and if necessary, the storm. Ventilation ! 
 Ventilation ! " 
 
 " Let us proceed to the election." 
 
 " If these things can truthfully be said, were it 
 not better to go without a bishop at all," suggested 
 some one. 
 
 "That were heresy," interposed the venerable 
 man. 
 
 Then the voices continued. 
 
 " We want a manly man." 
 
 " None for political purposes." 
 
 "The days of factions are gone by." 
 
 " The new age demands a Nazarene." 
 75
 
 " A Nazarene must not belie his calling." 
 
 " The Nazarene did not live in a palace." 
 
 " He had an ideal beyond the comprehension 
 of the majority." 
 
 " We want the greatest of the great." 
 
 " Then look for one who can lace shoes." 
 
 " But in doing so he must not crawl." 
 
 " He must keep abreast with the age." 
 
 " Then he must be young." 
 
 " He must encourage activity." 
 
 " Then his mind must be broad." 
 
 " He must not follow, but lead." 
 
 " He must hate shams." 
 
 "He must love little children." 
 
 V If he worships God, he must also serve man." 
 
 " He must appreciate the greatness of failure." 
 
 " One who can refuse dinners." 
 
 " He must be a friend of sinners." 
 
 " His brightness ought not be considered a dis 
 qualification." 
 
 And so speech ran long and freely. The voice 
 of the people was heard. The election took place, 
 and it was withal the people's choice. The lot 
 fell upon Ai. 
 
 76
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE MODERN CROWN OF THORNS. 
 
 No falser idol man has bowed before, 
 
 In Indian groves or islands of the sea, 
 
 Than that which through the quaint carved Gothic door 
 
 Looks forth, a Church without humanity \ 
 
 Patron of pride, and prejudice, and wrong, 
 
 The rich man's charm and fetish of the strong. 
 
 Whittitr. 
 
 THE committee who waited upon Ai to inform 
 him of his election, found him on a rug before 
 an open fire, reading to a group of boys, one of 
 the stories of Hans Christian Andersen. He 
 bade them be seated, but continued, and the com 
 mittee became quite interested themselves; and 
 after he had finished the story, he began another. 
 At this juncture the committee became a little 
 nervous and the chairman broached the object 
 of the visit. Ai had not heard of an election ; 
 had not even known that the bishop had died. 
 There were the usual congratulations ; but Ai was 
 lost in thought and could not be aroused to any 
 degree of enthusiasm. He stared into the fire for 
 a long time, and then dismissed his boys, and re 
 turned to the committee. And the arrangements 
 77
 
 for the consecration must be made at once. They 
 had resolved to make it an imposing spectacle, 
 something that would impress the world with the 
 dignity and grandeur of the Church. It should 
 take place at St. Mark's and no expense should 
 be spared ; the Church was making inroads into 
 the hearts of the whole people, and there was 
 coming in the near future, the day when she 
 should include all sorts and conditions of men. 
 A very wealthy gentleman of the committee in 
 sisted that no expense should be spared, even if he 
 himself must bear the bulk of it. The ceremony 
 must impress the world by its magnificence ; there 
 must be nothing mean about it. There never had 
 been such unanimity in a choice ; never such en 
 thusiasm. Ai had long lived in the hearts of the 
 people, and now something must be done to be 
 fit the event. 
 
 Ai listened to it all in absolute silence. He 
 stirred the embers of the fire and put on more 
 wood, and then asked when it was to be. As 
 soon as the jewels could be ordered. Two men 
 had resolved to bear all that part of the expense. 
 Of course Ai would have his Shepherd's crook 
 as befits the shepherd. It would be jeweled. 
 
 " Make them diamonds," added Ai. 
 This rather surprised the committee, who ex 
 pected difficulties in the way ; but this was an 
 78
 
 encouraging sign. They had expected from this 
 plain man opposition on the score of ceremony ; 
 but now he was actually insisting upon diamonds. 
 "And you will have your mitre; we will have 
 one specially made after a pattern of one of the 
 old Coptic bishops." 
 
 " Diamonds there would add to its beauty," 
 Ai added again. The rich committeeman rubbed 
 his hands with delight ; there would be no fool 
 ish 'affectations of plainness, no meanness and un 
 worthy parsimony. 
 
 "You will also have your pectoral cross." 
 " Make it large, and let that also be set with 
 diamonds," added Ai. 
 
 This was becoming exceedingly interesting to 
 the committee. 
 
 "And let the diamonds be many and small," 
 he suggested. 
 
 "And the ring will be a special gift from a 
 recent convert to the faith." 
 
 "See that it is set with diamonds also; small and 
 numerous would suit me best." 
 
 The committee were progressing satisfactorily 
 and had achieved their ends. Plere was a man 
 who rose to the dignity of the occasion. Ai 
 lighted a taper which stood in a tall brass candle 
 stick, and the glow lighted up the further end 
 of the room. It was poorly furnished with the 
 79
 
 cheapest of wooden chairs, and an unpainted pine 
 table ; this with the rugs, of which there was a 
 marked profusion, constituted about all of the 
 furniture, except an abundance of books. 
 
 Here was the people's choice, living in almost 
 abject poverty, giving orders for diamonds and 
 costly pageantry, on his call to officially represent 
 the Nazarene. 
 
 "But you have forgotten," said Ai, as the 
 committee were taking their departure, " that I 
 am a layman ; I have never assumed the priestly 
 office, have not even been recognized as a deacon 
 or one occupying the lowest place." This was 
 rather a surprise to all, and they went back 
 again. 
 
 " But have you not been recognized by the peo 
 ple as their priest? Have you not passed for 
 such ? " 
 
 "There has been established between us a 
 close bond of love, but it has been one only of 
 brotherhood. What the poor people have thought 
 I know not ; but I have never sought to appear 
 anything else than their friend and leader." 
 
 Here a thoughtful man among the number said 
 quietly, almost in a whisper, "Then you have 
 been a leader indeed, for you were to them as a 
 priest." 
 
 "That is the only priesthood, which has its 
 80
 
 basis in brotherhood," added another. To this 
 one of the number was about to reply, but he 
 hesitated as if he did not quite understand the 
 drift of it, and so the matter was dropped. 
 
 A few days afterwards Ai was ordained deacon. 
 This man who had served his fellows, and the 
 poor especially, for years, was now a deacon. 
 Next day he was made a priest. This man who 
 had for years lived in the hearts of the poor, and 
 been to them as a priest, was now a priest. He 
 went through it all in almost absolute silence, and 
 seemed to be dazed. The day following had been 
 appointed for his consecration to the bishopric. He 
 had left to others every detail of arrangement. 
 He toJd them he would not be there until the latest 
 moment, but would not keep them waiting ; they 
 should not keep him waiting when he got there. 
 When he arrived, the Church was crowded with a 
 mixed congregation ; he had given away all his 
 tickets to the poor of his neighborhood. This 
 indicated volumes to the dainty women who found 
 their nurses and servants in their pews ; they 
 sniffed something in the air. A new order of 
 things was about to begin. The choir had been 
 greatly augmented, and was standing ready for 
 the processional hymn. There were twelve or 
 thirteen bishops and a score of clergymen in line, 
 and a goodly number of the clergy were distributed 
 6 81
 
 through the congregation. The processional cross 
 was in place ; the shepherd's crook studded with 
 brilliant diamonds was carried by a boy. Ai was 
 vested by a committee, to whom he mechanically 
 submitted without saying a word. A purple cas 
 sock was given him, which he put on. Some one 
 then girded him with a silver cord, the ends of 
 which were studded with diamonds. A boy car 
 ried his mitre, also studded with diamonds. A 
 pectoral cross was suspended from his neck ; this 
 too, was covered with diamonds. The tones of 
 the organ never sounded more mellow and the 
 music of the choir never was richer. The pro 
 cession made the circuit of the Church several 
 times and then marched slowly up the nave to the 
 chancel. The service was stately, and protracted 
 with anthems and rich music. The sermon was 
 the one usual to such occasions. 
 
 Ai listened and sat through it all thinking of 
 these present times ; and looking along the line 
 forward into the long dim future , he wondered 
 whether apostles would be raised up to deal with 
 these tremendous issues lying around us, here, 
 now, and to come. The church seemed close and 
 the place seemed to stifle him. Never was there 
 such a crowd, never such eager faces as they leaned 
 forward to catch a glimpse of the little bishop now 
 vested in all his robes and apostolic belongings. 
 82
 
 Ai went through it all without betraying any sign 
 of interest. He seemed as if sitting alone with his 
 thoughts. What meant all this pageantry ; was it 
 indeed the escort furnished to the apostle pressing 
 forward in duty's path, even if it led to bonds or 
 to the cross itself? And how many would keep 
 him company on the way, when persecution and 
 evil days appeared ? How many would be willing 
 to go on to victory, and willing also to press for 
 ward in the face of defeat ? What meant these 
 jewels to one who was to serve in the place of 
 the pauper Nazarene, who went about from place 
 to place seeking for a pillow, not as rich as the 
 birds that had gone to sleep in their own little 
 nests' ? What meant this sign of the cross on the 
 breast of one, who if he trod convention's path, 
 where he was surely expected to walk, would 
 know only the rich man's feast, the lap of lux 
 ury, and all the delights and comfortable things 
 in life? What meant all these gorgeous robes 
 and the many changes, to him who joined arm 
 in arm the poor reformer, and practiced with him 
 sweet charity in giving away the cloak and would 
 not withhold the coat either? What meant all 
 this applause to one who had joined hands as 
 with a brother, one who was meek and lowly in 
 heart? And what these congratulations to him 
 83
 
 who was to follow on in troublous paths and 
 shameful betrayals ? 
 
 These thoughts made him listless and absent- 
 minded, and he had to be reminded of the next 
 part in the ceremony. 
 
 The church seemed to grow closer and the at 
 mosphere more stifling. 
 
 One thing Ai had requested that the choir 
 should escort him to the little cathedral on Min 
 ster Street. 
 
 When all the rites had been performed, all the 
 ceremonies had been gone through, when the 
 hymns had died out, and prayers had ceased, the 
 little bishop mounted the steps of the high altar 
 and gave notice of the procession to the cathedral. 
 "This ends the ceremony,'" said he, "and now 
 will begin the service. The consecration must go 
 on until evening, and to-morrow, and through the 
 year, and the life of years. 1 ' 
 
 As the choir proceeded out of the church the 
 congregation flowed into the street , and many fol 
 lowed the procession toward the cathedral. Pious 
 women, faithful in attendance upon ordinances, 
 searched in books, to see where this service could 
 be read that was to go on until evening and to 
 morrow and a year and a life of years. Onward 
 the choir led the way through many narrow streets 
 of the poor, and dainty feet grew tired and turned 
 84
 
 back. But onward the processional cross continued 
 to move through the lanes, still narrower and more 
 unsightly, and there turned back a number more. 
 And still the escort led the bishop on through ways 
 and" by-ways of evil report, which still more de 
 pleted the ranks as they moved on. As they turned 
 into the little street of the cathedral there were but 
 a few besides the faithful'choir. Among the fol 
 lowers Ai noticed a solitary priest, young and 
 strong in frame but with lines across his fine fore 
 head ; his eye was sad and his abundant hair al 
 ready mixed with gray. As they passed up the 
 street the magdalens of the neighborhood came 
 out in numbers, and one said, " I know one good 
 marr." 
 
 In the cathedral were gathered the poor people, 
 mostly children, whom Ai had known for years ; 
 and now he preached to them a sermon, the first 
 sermon he ever preached. The sermon was not 
 long and the bishop pronounced a formal blessing. 
 The bishop's first blessing was upon the poor, and 
 they were mostly little children. 
 85
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE REAL CONSECRATION. 
 
 lam a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes, hath not a Jew hands, organs, 
 dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed by the same food, hurt 
 with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the 
 same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as 
 a Christian is? Shakespeare. 
 
 As Ai withdrew from the church and was about 
 to close the door behind him, he felt a gentle push, 
 and a man with fine Jewish features bowed and en 
 tered. 
 
 "O, Mr. Shoenstein, I believe: come in, I have 
 been expecting you ; and if you will excuse me 
 until I disrobe, I will be glad to see you." 
 
 The man adjusted his glasses, and reaching up 
 to Ai's mitre, took hold of it with his two hands ; 
 and looking carefully over its decorations, excit 
 edly inquired, " Ish dot a real diamond?" and 
 then looked a little closer. Ai adjusted the heavy 
 headgear, which was awry, and as he raised his 
 hand, Shoenstein caught it, and turning it so as to 
 get a better look at the ring, exclaimed, " Dot ish a 
 real one, and a real beauty too. And let me see 
 dot," relieving him of his pastoral staff. 
 
 The gems of the crook were carefully looked 
 86
 
 over, and every diamond critically valued and 
 measured, as he turned the ornament over and over 
 again. During this examination, Ai had disrobed 
 and returned to his visitor in a new purple cassock 
 with silver cord, the ends being ornamented with 
 pomegranates studded with diamonds. These did 
 not escape the eyes of the jeweller, and he had 
 their value estimated in an instant. 
 
 " You will excuse me for keeping you waiting, 
 but I sent for you, Mr. Shoenstein, to have your 
 opinion and services with regard to these very dia 
 monds. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, dot ish right," interjected the interested 
 man. 
 
 " I would like," continued Ai, " to have some 
 responsible person take out these stones from their 
 settings ; and as they require careful handling, I 
 would like your firm to do the work. I need 
 money and may want to realize upon them, and I 
 would like to entrust their sale to yourself." 
 
 " Y6, dot ish right." 
 
 " I saw you in the church, Mr. Shoenstein. I 
 did not mean to do violence to any religious pref 
 erences which men may have ; what I meant was 
 that you might meet me here in the house imme 
 diately after the ceremony, without going into 
 the church itself." 
 
 " O, dot ish all right, Mr. Ai, or Bishops, as dey 
 87
 
 now calls you ; we must do much tings in business, 
 and I am liberals, too." 
 
 " Where do you attend synagogue ? For I sup 
 pose you go." 
 
 " O yes, we haf a fine new synagogue ; I goes 
 to Keneseth Israel." 
 
 " Ah, to Keneseth Israel ! You have a very 
 able rabbi there ; I met him one day." 
 
 " Very, very ; he is very liberals, and he lofs 
 humanity." 
 
 "Yes, I understand he is very progressive." 
 
 " He ish a fine gentlemans, and we raised his 
 salary." 
 
 '- But, Mr. Shoenstein, you see the diamonds, 
 and you know their value ; now do you suppose I 
 can realize five hundred dollars upon this one? " 
 
 "Yes, more dan dot. I can turn over to you 
 fife hundred dollars and keep my ten per cent." 
 
 "And this, what value do you place upon this? 
 It seems to be a fine one." 
 
 "Dot ish a genuine Sout Africaner* it ish 
 small, but it ish also wort fife hundred dollars, if 
 a cent." 
 
 "Well, that pleases me, Mr. Shoenstein." 
 
 " Dey are all goot ; some better dan some, but 
 all goot; you haf a regular gold mine, or a dia 
 mond mine, I should say." 
 
 "You see, Mr. Shoenstein, there are many poor
 
 people around here, and I need a few schools and 
 a Kindergarten ; also a hospital for children, and 
 a great many other things that will cost money. I 
 now propose to sell these diamonds, and build." 
 
 The jeweller looked at the bishop and rubbed 
 his hands excitedly. 
 
 "You sell your clothes and build for de chil- 
 drens, did you say ? " 
 
 "No, not my clothes, but these things that are 
 not clothes the diamonds." 
 
 " And you gifs dese to de poor ; you takes dese 
 stones from your fingers and gifs to de poor ? Dot 
 ish just what our rabbi says ; and now I meets a 
 man, a real man, who does it. Dot ish right. 
 Dey-says de little childrens suffers very much in 
 de hot wetter." 
 
 " Yes, I propose to have you sell that stone, and 
 it will keep a little boat running a whole week 
 on the river; and just think how many little 
 ones will breathe the fresh air, which perhaps 
 will save their lives. You know the physicians 
 always recommend a change of air rather than 
 medicine." 
 
 "I lost a little boy once; and dey suffers so 
 
 much, de childrens." During a long pause both 
 
 were silent. The Jew then resumed: "And 
 
 you will send de childrens on de river. I will 
 
 89
 
 help you ; I will sell de diamonds and will not 
 charge de ten per cent." 
 
 "That will be a real practical service, which 
 will pay for a whole boat-load down the river ; 
 and I hope, Mr. Shoenstein, that you yourself 
 may be with us that day ; take a vacation and 
 come. ' ' 
 
 " I will, so help me dot is, if I can get off 
 from business." 
 
 " Dey told me, (you will excuse me, Bishops), 
 dey told me dot you sold your shirt to gif away to 
 de poor ; and I went to de meeting to see wetter 
 dey would make such a man a bishops. De 
 times want leaders who will practice kindness and 
 justice to all." 
 
 " I am afraid your informer was too enthusiastic 
 an admirer. It is not necessary, Mr. Shoenstein, 
 to sell one's shirt. There may be extreme cases, 
 but only because some one is not willing to sell his 
 diamonds. I believe in a shirt and undershirt 
 and plenty of changes. I believe in good warm 
 clothing in winter, and good, cool, seasonable 
 clothing in summer ; but if all are to have them, 
 there may be times when one must part with his 
 extra shirt, but only, as I said, because some one 
 else is not willing to part with his diamonds." 
 
 " I see," interjected Shoenstein, "dot luxuries 
 90
 
 makes de inequalities in de work ; you mean 
 dot." 
 
 "That is about it. And besides, a man like 
 myself must be consistent. You would laugh at a 
 follower of the Nazarene parading in diamonds." 
 
 " De Nazarene himself, dey tells, did not do so ; 
 but you know I do not agree mit you as to de 
 character of de Christ." 
 
 "Well, no matter; assuming he was a man, 
 history tells us he was not ostentatious and en 
 dowed with luxuries." 
 
 " Yes, he was a frient of de poor ; and so far 1 
 respect de man, if he did lif." 
 
 " And now, to really follow him, we must have 
 the same spirit ; but I do not see how diamonds on 
 the shepherd's crook are going to help the starv 
 ing flock, or how a jewelled finger is going to 
 give fresh air and clean clothes to unfortunate 
 children." 
 
 " Dot ish right, very right." 
 
 ' ' These stones were given to me by earnest 
 men and women as offerings to God. I now 
 make them such. I am their servant, and do 
 what these people really intended to do, but which 
 they perhaps indifferently comprehended. It is a 
 poor conception of God, to have Him pleased 
 with sparkle and glitter, to have him pacified and 
 brought around by a gift that shines, as if he were 
 9 1
 
 a wilful child. God has too many flowers blush 
 ing unseen, too many twinkling stars still undis 
 covered, to desire a few shining diamonds for his 
 pleasure and delight. No, when God sees us will 
 ing to do His will, then is he well pleased, and 
 when in the doing of that will, it requires these 
 diamonds, and we are ready to give them, then 
 only are they pleasing. But if they should halt 
 half way and not become effective in good works, 
 they would little serve as a true offering. They 
 have come half way. I recognize the spirit in 
 which they were given. I believe the vision of 
 the donors a little beclouded, but that is all the 
 greater reason why I should be eyes to these good 
 people, and see for them the path. They will 
 now bring health to the cheeks of little children ; 
 food, clothing, and intellectual vision ; and in 
 such acts will the will of God be done ; and that 
 will be the sacrifice that will please." 
 
 "And you gif away all de diamonds on de 
 ring, on de mitre and on de staff? " 
 
 "Yes, and these too," pointing to the pome 
 granates ; "besides, these in the cross; and I 
 want you to affix a pedestal to this cross, so that I 
 can fit it to a base of wood. It may serve as a 
 daily reminder of what one must expect and come 
 to in this our service ; for the cross will come 
 sooner or later, the world's ingratitude will most 
 92
 
 surely come to him who seeks its betterment. The 
 world is putting upon the cross its saviours every 
 day." 
 
 "So you tink clot one saviour upon a cross 
 was not sufficient ; but dot many more haf been 
 put on, and many more will be sacrificed before 
 de worlt will be safed ? " 
 
 " It does seem so in looking around us ; the facts 
 seem to point that way; but, Mr. Shoenstein, we 
 will not enter upon any theological discussion, 
 though the hard facts of life and history are well 
 worth our consideration." 
 
 The Jew smiled. His private opinion was that 
 these followers of Jesus caricatured the man in 
 their -daily practice; and he enjoyed an inward 
 satisfaction when he heard this bishop openly 
 saying the very things which he had often thought ; 
 and there was a feeling of close fellowship grow 
 ing between these two men. 
 
 "These, you see, are all small. I had them 
 ordered small and more of them, as I thought they 
 could be disposed of more readily than a larger 
 stone. You will know their value and make the 
 best possible sale when I bring them to you. I 
 want you to take this one with you ; I need 
 money at once for a kindergarten ; and the others I 
 will put into a deposit vault until they are 
 wanted." 
 
 93
 
 " I guarantee it will sell for fife hundred dollars, 
 if a cent ; it is a beauty. I will charge you not- 
 tings and will manage togomit de sick childrens." 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Shoenstein, you may often come 
 and see the schools. You see we hope to have a 
 number of institutions, day nurseries and kinder 
 gartens, as soon as the stone is sold." 
 
 Then recollecting himself, Shoenstein took out 
 his purse. 
 
 "You spoke of de poor; dey are sick all de 
 year, not only next summer ; here is a little which 
 you can use for any sick little one. My poor lit 
 tle boy died in de winter, and all winter dare is 
 suffering as well as in de summer ; he was a fine 
 boy too my little Jacob. I will go mit de chil 
 drens myself next summer ; I will leaf husiness and 
 go myself." 
 
 As the jeweller passed out, a few boys looked in 
 and asked whether they could not do something, 
 carry wood or something. Ai asked them in, and 
 said he had all he wanted ; so the boys did not 
 go in. 
 
 Thus, after the ceremony in the large and 
 beautiful Church, was here commenced, in that 
 secluded room in the miserable street, a service of 
 consecration ; and there was assisting in this serv 
 ice a Jew, with his goodwill and means, and bet 
 ter than that his personal service. The little 
 94
 
 gamins from the street also made their contribu 
 tion of good will. Thus virtue was becoming con 
 tagious. This man was fast becoming the bishop 
 of the whole people. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WAS IT ALL A DREAM. 
 
 The hireling fleeth, because he is a hireling, and careth not for the 
 sheep. yesits. 
 
 THE formal calls upon the new bishop began. 
 The first ring of the bell was not answered ; Ai 
 slept little after the fatigue of the day, and when 
 he did fall into a doze toward morning, his sleep 
 was fitful and disturbed. It was midday before 
 he arose. As he was still taking his bath, the 
 bell rang, and a gentleman was let in by an ar 
 rangement connected with Ai's sleeping room, 
 which was operated by an electric device of 
 Burr's. 
 
 He found this convenient on cold days, both 
 for himself and his visitor. The device, however, 
 was afterward altered, and everyone was expected 
 to walk in without ringing ; a little bell an 
 nounced the visitor, as at the corner grocery. 
 "They come here for bread, too; and a bishop 
 ought to see them as gladly," he used to say. 
 95
 
 His caller, a Mr. Richmond, was a wealthy 
 gentleman and a vestryman of one of the churches. 
 He cordially extended both his hands, as Ai en 
 tered the room, robed in his superb purple cas 
 sock, which was a trifle too long. "A bishop 
 ought not drag his purple in the dust," he said 
 to his visitor, with a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " You look tired ; you must have your break 
 fast at once. Shall I not send out and have 
 something brought in? You are ill." 
 
 "I have had a bad night; only caught a little 
 sleep toward morning : had bad dreams, horri 
 ble dreams, horrible." 
 
 " Surely your conscience is a good one," pleas 
 antly interposed the vestryman. 
 
 " No, that is just it; I try not to have an easy 
 " conscience, and it troubles me occasionally ; and 
 such a night as I had. My duties began after the 
 ceremony, and have been going on ever since. I 
 was at it all night. Duty goes on forever, the 
 consecration is the work of a lifetime." He then 
 arranged the wood and lighted the fire and then 
 sat down to talk. " I had a singular dream," he 
 said, "and it has taken the life out of me; I 
 feel as if I had been tramping all night; I am 
 tired." 
 
 "You look it." 
 
 " I dreamed that the old colonial church 
 96
 
 Christ Church was being taken down piecemeal 
 and carried off. They had arranged to take it 
 down, brick by brick, numbering every piece care 
 fully, and then proposed erecting it somewhere 
 west, where they said the congregation had gone. 
 " Experts had been engaged to preserve carefully 
 every 'part of the fabric, and to replace the build 
 ing in exactly the same condition as before; and 
 the demolishing of the wall surrounding the church 
 had already commenced when I found out their 
 plans. I thought they were piling a load of bricks 
 on my chest, and then they covered me entirely, 
 and were stifling me. The thought was a horrible 
 one, but I finally awoke. I soon fell asleep again ; 
 and- then found myself rushing along the streets, 
 looking for the vestry. I went to several houses 
 on Walnut Street, and asked them to meet me ; 
 several lived in West Philadelphia, and I saw 
 them ; one lived at Chestnut Hill, and I walked 
 out there, as there was no railroad that I knew of; 
 another lived at Germantown, and I ran to his 
 house; one had gone to Europe, him I did not 
 see ; another was in the country, and was hunted 
 up. I found them all but one. I was so exhausted 
 after my tramp that I got on board a canal boat on 
 my way home. This was slow progress, and caused 
 me great uneasiness, but we finally got together 
 just as it was getting dark. The vestry maintained 
 7 97
 
 that it was purely a matter of business ; the con 
 gregation had moved west and become scattered, 
 and pew-rents were falling off. They said churches 
 must be conducted on business principles ; and it 
 was their duty to keep up the pew-rents to a proper 
 monetary standard. It was purely a matter of 
 business. I then took the vestry out for a walk. 
 We started up Second Street, and passed forty-seven 
 boys and twenty-three girls, sitting in dark door 
 ways. Turning down Vine Street, we saw groups 
 of men and women lounging around, wanting 
 something to interest their miserable selves. We 
 entered a little court off Race Street, and saw a 
 fight between a drunken husband and his little 
 clean wife, whom he cowed into the most abject 
 servility. In a court without name, but called 
 Bull's Run, on account of the filth and running 
 sewerage on the pavement, we saw two fights. As 
 we passed through Front Street, there was a poor 
 woman crouching into a corner with a baby under 
 her shawl, 'preparing to go to sleep. Farther on 
 we saw a group of young girls dancing under an 
 awning to the music of an accordeon, the little 
 Italian musician sitting on a bale of merchandise. 
 "The odors from the business houses were hor 
 rible. Hams, hides, ropes, paint, wool, rags, 
 oils, cabbage, potatoes, fruits, and green groceries 
 in every stage of decay, food, food everywhere, 
 98
 
 but the pinched children did not seem to have 
 much of it. From its odors, however, they 
 could not escape. Hundreds of houses packed 
 with tenants ; little streets, back of the business 
 houses where fortunes are made, were lined with 
 houses in every condition of disrepair. There 
 were courts within courts, all overrun with human 
 beings. 
 
 " Then we went through a number of other 
 streets, west of Second street, with the same re 
 sult, finding court within court, all packed with 
 human beings, drinking and making merry, drown 
 ing their sorrows in such excitements as their nar 
 row visions could command. 
 
 "We then returned and knelt down in the dark 
 silent Church, lighted only by the street lamp 
 shining through the large stained chancel window. 
 Here was the fold, but where were the sheep ? 
 There was no question about the devouring wolves. 
 They were abroad in all their rapacious fierceness. 
 They were gnawing down to the bone men, wo 
 men, and children falling as prey. And then as 
 we prayed for light to meet the duties of the times, 
 I thought we all swooned and lay scattered around 
 the altar steps how long, I know not. When I 
 recovered, I found myself standing in the pulpit, 
 and there was a sound as of great and deep 
 waters ; these were rushing through the Church ; 
 99
 
 and in the waves the heads of the vestrymen ap 
 peared, but soon all were lost in a great sea of 
 heads which surged, but when they became quiet, 
 I noticed they were people who had filled the 
 Church. They filled every pew, they filled the 
 galleries, they stood in the aisles, they sat on the 
 altar steps, they crowded around the pulpit and 
 sat on the pulpit stairs, they crowded into the pul 
 pit itself, and stood outside the Church, crowded 
 the windows and doors ; so the windows were 
 opened that they might hear. I then began to 
 preach, but they stopped me and said they had 
 heard that before. They knew their duty but 
 they lacked resolution to follow the dictates of con 
 science. They had the knowledge, but they lacked 
 the will. They were hopeful, some said, since now 
 they had found leadership in their efforts to will 
 the right. They had not only direction, but they 
 had company. They had not only instruction, 
 but they had sympathy. 
 
 "'You came to my home,' one said; another 
 said, 'You looked upon my little one.' And then 
 other voices were heard to say, ' You saw my 
 sick husband ; ' ' You know now how rum robs 
 us ; ' ' You saw the temptations of my girls ; ' 
 ' You saw how widows struggle for bread ; ' ' You 
 saw how we must sleep.' And so the voices ran. 
 100
 
 I was dumb, standing in the high pulpit, while the 
 congregation was preaching to me. 
 
 " Then the heads of the vestrymen rose above the 
 heads of the others, and the congregation shouted : 
 ' These are your helpers ' ' They will hold up 
 your hands in your endeavors ' ' They will help 
 us to will and to do ' ' They have joined hands 
 with you and with us, and we be brethren.' Then 
 the church enlarged, the walls spreading so that 
 those outside were included ; but more were com 
 ing and still the church enlarged. Then there 
 was a flash of light; and the whole was illumin 
 ated with numberless tapers in the hands of the 
 congregation. ' We want light, more light,' they 
 said ' Each can bring his little light ' ' Every 
 light will be missed ' ' He who will not bring his 
 light will come and go in darkness.' And then 
 the organ began to play, and the trumpet pipes 
 were heard, and the chimes in the steeple rang out 
 merrily. Then as mysteriously as they came, the 
 congregation melted out of sight again ; each car 
 rying a taper, they slowly went away into the 
 street and courts around. 
 
 " The vestrymen alone remained. ' Where is our 
 congregation?-' one asked. Someone replied, 
 ' In the streets ; in the narrow lanes ; in the 
 courts; in the close rooms; in the damp cellars; 
 in the stifling atmosphere.' 'Yes, there,' said
 
 another. ' I saw where they lived,' said a third. 
 ' They are within a stone's throw,' added a fourth 
 ' They can easily be reached,' said a fifth. ' They 
 are quite near,' broke forth a sixth. ' But they 
 must be sympathized with,' interjected a seventh. 
 'And we must do the sympathizing,' added the 
 eighth. 'I personally must do this sympathizing,' 
 continued a ninth. ' We must not look for 
 monetary results,' exclaimed the tenth. ' This 
 church shall remain,' thundered the eleventh. 
 This made light my heart and I awoke." 
 
 As the bishop related his dream, Mr. Richmond 
 stared vacantly into the fire ; he then grasped the 
 bishop's hand and pressed it warmly without say 
 ing a word. 
 
 " I am completely used up ; that walk to West 
 Philadelphia and to Chestnut Hill has taken the 
 strength out of me." 
 
 Mr. Richmond again suggested sending for his 
 breakfast, but the bishop declined. "But strange 
 to say," continued Ai, "I fell asleep and dreamed 
 again. I saw the church moving west and halt 
 ing between the Church of the Mediator, and 
 Christ Church Chapel. These churches flanked 
 the great building, touching the corners, and they 
 made an imposing group. So close were they, 
 that it seemed like war between them when the 
 choir-masters did their full duty. I thought I fol 
 
 ios
 
 lowed the church as it floated steadily westward. 
 I was curious to know why one little spot should 
 receive this remarkable attention ; why one little 
 corner in the vineyard should receive such zealous 
 cultivation. What was all this shepherding for, 
 to feed the flock or to shear the wool ? " 
 
 Mr. Richmond suggested that they walk out and 
 have something to eat. " I really feel, Mr. Rich 
 mond, like walking up that way to assure myself 
 that the plumbers are not even now melting off the 
 roof." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE LEAVEN AT WORK. 
 
 Bear ye one another's burdens. St. Paul. 
 
 THE Burrs had finished their quiet cup of tea 
 without company, which was an unusual thing, 
 and the gentlemen had settled for a smoke and the 
 magazines. 
 
 There was quite a refreshing breeze through the 
 arches of the veranda, which set the entangled 
 vines, now blooming with flowers, waving to and 
 fro. They had arranged the Chinese lanterns ready 
 for lighting, and the whole was converted into a 
 103
 
 fairy bower, making the scene from the street a 
 pretty one. 
 
 Enid was opening her letters. She gathered 
 from one of them that this matter of personal 
 service was taking root, for there was quite a circle 
 of girls who were to be married soon, and two thirds 
 were going to take the houses in which their 
 grandmothers had danced. Sue Horton, who was 
 engaged last summer to that manly, handsome 
 Purelonder, had arranged for the South-west Cor 
 ner of Front and Lombard, a fine old place, built 
 of genuine colonial bricks. " She is a great 
 friend of Esther Airy's, and they will be quite 
 near neighbors. I think," said Enid, " that ser 
 mon of Ai's did it, as I see evidences of it all 
 around. Sue says it was a bold arraignment of 
 the half-hearted ; and while it gave offense to a 
 few, yet the young people were affected by it and 
 were set thinking." 
 
 Ai had been asking for money for the fresh air 
 fund, and incidental to the sermon, pictured, in 
 his usual graphic way, the plates being handed up, 
 piled with rich offerings, and running over. After 
 this flattering picture, he raised his hand and held 
 it for a long time ; the suspense was painful, as he 
 opened and closed it convulsively. He then low 
 ered it and held fast to the sides of the pulpit and 
 said calmly, in a low, soft voice, " Yes, you have 
 104
 
 given largely, but you have given only half; I now 
 want yourselves, your personal service ; when ac 
 companied by your service and labors of love, 
 then only will your gifts become a true offering." 
 They found stains of blood where he had clasped 
 the pulpit, the clenching of his hand had pressed 
 the nails deep into the flesh. He then went on and 
 told them of the many ways in which this personal 
 service could be rendered, and of the great need 
 of heart and sympathy in the world. There never 
 was such a collection in St. Mark's. The school 
 girls went down deep into their purses and drained 
 them of the last cent of pin-money. 
 
 But the real fruit appeared afterward. A few 
 girls .who were home on a vacation organized and 
 laid some plans by which to create a sentiment in 
 favor of personal service. They separated and 
 went to their respective schools, some to Vv'ellesley, 
 some to Swarthmore, others to Vassar. At school 
 they gathered a few of a like mind, and organized 
 for personal service. These efforts soon began 
 bearing fruit. Out of a bevy of eight girls, seven 
 were married, and six of them took houses in 
 quarters tenanted by the poor. Enid ran over in 
 her mind the facts, and said, "One is going into 
 5i4Penn Street; another into 402 South Front 
 Street ; still another is going into 336 Spruce 
 Street ; and two sisters will take 46 and 48 Almond 
 .105
 
 Street, below Front, where they will have a river 
 view. Our friend Dorothy will move into 820 
 Swanson, a fine quaint old place ; and her cousin 
 has already renovated 520 South Front. Cecilia 
 Horton has asked me to look at and draw plans to 
 have 34 Catharine Street restored, just as it was when 
 her great grandfather lived there. She is engaged 
 to a noble fellow who has nursed a sick blind man, 
 one of Ai's poor. They say he is one of the gen 
 uine Knickerbocker stock, and would not go home 
 during the University vacation, but asked Ai for 
 work, and was directed to the garret of the old 
 man. He watched at night at the bedside, to the 
 great relief of the wornout family, and slept on 
 Ai's rugs during the day-time. 
 
 " He is a large, manly-looking fellow, takes the 
 lead in rowing and never misses a ball when at the 
 bat ; but mention suffering to him, point out in 
 justice, give him a scent of meanness, and he be 
 comes as ferocious as a lion, and as tender as a girl. 
 Cecilia has made a good choice, and she is worthy 
 of the man, one of the truest girls I ever met." 
 
 " I hear that the new bishop is gathering around 
 him a strong force of workers," said the merchant 
 Burr, laying down his paper; "not only in the 
 work of the little Minster, but he seems to be in 
 fecting the churches with his enthusiasm for hu 
 manity. The whole vestry of the Nazarene is 
 1 06
 
 composed now of young men. They are mostly 
 University boys who were attracted by Ai, and 
 think of looking into the matter of the other half. 
 They naturally talked of the matter at home, and 
 to the surprise of everybody, after the last Easter 
 Election, the church found itself with an entirely 
 new vestry, all but one old man whom they re 
 tained, as one playfully remarked, for ballast." 
 "Ballast is a good thing, but when the ship be 
 comes loaded with ballast, it is not going to carry 
 bread," suggested the other Burr. 
 
 "So the good old men reasoned, and elected 
 their hopeful sons as their successors, gracefully 
 admitting that a little fresh, new blood was a good 
 thing. " They however did not lose their heads, 
 and so retained on the vestry a good load of bal 
 last to keep the enthusiasm of youth from turning 
 the neighborhood topsy-turvy, a courtly old man, 
 a gentleman of the old school. The whole matter 
 was characterized by the most perfect good humor 
 and philosophical frankness. Such men one does 
 not like to see go out men who are so free to ad 
 mit the signs of the times." 
 
 Enid suggested that the sons no doubt had in 
 herited the wisdom of their sires, and this wisdom 
 plus the enthusiasm of youth would make the old 
 church a power again. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day, a little com- 
 107
 
 pany had gathered at number 3 Chancery Lane by 
 accident. It always appeared an accident until it 
 happened so often and so regularly on about the 
 same day of the month, that some brain was set 
 thinking, and a law was discovered governing the 
 matter. 
 
 It has already been stated that Impey was an in 
 veterate reader, and kept abreast with all the lead 
 ing, stirring thought of the times. He read what 
 was best in books, and devoured all that was 
 printed in the Magazines and Reviews. This fact 
 Mrs. Airy had carefully noted, and the fact of Im- 
 pey's communicativeness made the circumstance a 
 very fortunate one for her. That bright woman 
 always needed an invisible patch on her boot about 
 the tenth day of the month. This of course her 
 husband never found out of his own accord, but 
 her lady acquaintances somehow discovered it. If 
 on the ninth day the little boot was whole and 
 sound, that little foot would catch between the 
 planks of a bridge, trod by children with impunity; 
 or some rough stone would make a visit to the shoe 
 maker a necessity. There was a good cobbler 
 quite near her house, but she preferred to take a 
 long walk and so went down to Impey. About 
 the tenth day of the month Impey had become 
 pretty well advanced with the contents of the 
 Magazines, and the two things seemed to form a 
 1 08
 
 most fortunate conjuncture. Mrs. Airy promptly 
 appeared on the tenth, and Impey, glad to talk 
 when he had an attentive listener, was always 
 pleased to see her. He had assimilated the fresh 
 est thought of the times and now was happy to 
 deliver the results of his reading. 
 
 A more delightful listener than Mrs. Airy could 
 not be found. She was always dressed with the 
 most exquisite taste, the material tending toward 
 richness, but never gaudy. 
 
 She had a pretty foot which Impey maintained 
 was really remarkable, and which he suggested 
 should not be spoilt by wearing shoes made over 
 any common last of ordinary mould ; so she had 
 a special last made at considerable expense, all 
 delicately shaped and moulded like her foot, and 
 she had the exclusive use of it. The ladies often 
 wondered how Mrs. Airy kept that same pretty 
 foot while she was losing ground otherwise. She 
 had a bright eye that always seemed to catch 
 Impey's when he looked up from his vamp. 
 
 She had had advantages as a girl, all that money 
 could purchase. She made term time and kept it 
 up until she became a bud ; even then she tried 
 quietly to patch up the breaks of the past, but all 
 to no purpose she remained only bright and in 
 telligent. When a girl she lacked application. 
 She would not study. She was afflicted with in- 
 109
 
 tellectual laziness, and this left her often stranded 
 when called upon to grapple with facts. She 
 could talk brilliantly enough, too, at times, but it 
 was all within a tiny narrow circle. She lacked 
 wings. Her quickness and natural intelligence 
 helped her out a great deal, but there were times 
 when she could neither touch bottom nor float, 
 and so was cast hopelessly upon the shore. Mrs. 
 Airy was bright, and knew all this, and she saw 
 her opportunity in Impey. So she stumped a 
 hole regularly on the ninth day of the month and 
 had it promptly mended on the tenth, while she 
 waited. She always was pleased when several 
 were ahead and the wait was a long one. Impey 
 noticed she always wore an old pair, and wondered 
 what become of the numerous new pairs she was 
 constantly ordering. She said she had given them 
 away, and found the old ones more comfortable. 
 She did not mind patched ones, if not too patchy. 
 This unselfishness touched Impey, and he thought 
 her a good-hearted philanthropist. 
 
 While Mrs. Airy was taking off her shoe on 
 this particular day, the door opened, and Mrs. 
 Amos came'in. 
 
 " O Mrs. Airy, I am glad to see you Mr. 
 Impey, you are hard at work as usual always 
 busy I too am going to trouble you with a little 
 
 break my toe is coming out." 
 no
 
 As she was explaining how it occurred, the door 
 opened and Mrs. Amos's daughter came in. This 
 rather surprised the mother, but the daughter was 
 not one to be talked to under the circumstances. As 
 they were moving their chairs, the door opened to 
 admit Miss Ostander, a fine looking woman, hav 
 ing a positive air and a determined manner. She 
 seemed to be well acquainted with Impey, but did 
 not know the rest. She found a seat in a corner 
 on the opposite side of the room, near the window, 
 and soon was lost in the Reviews. 
 
 "I suppose you all want your work done at 
 once, while you wait," Impey suggested. "I 
 will do my best, but I never work after four 
 o'clock ; that is a part of my creed." Mrs. Airy 
 said she was not in a hurry and would not mind 
 letting anyone else take her turn first. Miss 
 Ostander did not seem to care about any mending, 
 being absorbed in the Popular Science Monthly. 
 Soon the door opened again, and a breezy little 
 lady appeared, all aglow, her cheeks bright as a 
 peach. " O, you here, Mrs. Airy? and you, 
 Mrs. Amos? and dear Miss Amos, how delighted 
 I am to see you. It seems we are all here. In 
 deed I had to have my shoes attended to, I am 
 walking on my uppers. O, I did not see you, Miss 
 Ostander, you kept so quiet. Well this is a meet 
 ing. Mr. Impey, you must be very busy; you 
 in
 
 must have a good deal of patience. Do you know, 
 we think of asking you to deliver a lecture before 
 the New Century ? It is all a secret yet. You 
 must be very patient with us women ; our hus 
 bands, some of them at least, think us fussy. And 
 here you have us all in a bunch." 
 
 Impey said he did not mind, but rather enjoyed 
 company, and it never prevented him from work 
 ing talk rather helped him but he was sorry he 
 could not attend to all the work at once. He said 
 for ten days he had not had a single shoe to mend, 
 not a drop of their refreshing presence, and now it 
 poured. It seemed he always had luck toward 
 the middle of the month, it was so last month and 
 the month before. He had a regular flood of 
 mending about the middle of the month. Mrs. 
 Airy tried to look indifferent and made some pretty 
 remarks about Impey's gallant appreciation of their 
 refreshing presence ; the rest kept quiet and felt 
 relieved by Mrs. Airy's winning ways. 
 
 " That article on the confessions of a lawyer, 
 in the Arena, is going to do good," said Impey, 
 as he hammered down a seam. 
 
 <; We need such common frankness along the 
 line. The injustices that are done every day in 
 the name of the law, are going to raise an outcry 
 some day, that will bring down the woman who 
 is peeping through the bandage." " By the way,"
 
 said Mrs. Airy, "have you heard of Judge Rue's 
 resignation ? The unjust laws which he was bound 
 to enforce proved too much for his nerves, he 
 says, and he is going to the legislature as mis 
 sionary." 
 
 'By the way, Mrs. Airy, have you read the 
 essay on the cruelties of sport? " She had not, 
 but she had ordered all the monthlies, and the 
 bundle had come, and would be opened in a day 
 or two ; she had been very busy and she supposed 
 there was a good deal that was interesting. 
 
 She then adroitly drew Impey into the vortex, 
 and in an hour she had all the titles of the articles 
 that were really worth reading, carefully laid away 
 in her excellent memory, and so felt happy. 
 
 Her shoe was finished, but she did not leave ; 
 she would wait until her dear friend Mrs. Amos 
 had had hers mended, and they would go to 
 gether. 
 
 She then made a mental catalogue of all the im 
 portant articles and .asked a question or two to 
 make sure she had made no mistake. Then she 
 made a remark, in an apparently indifferent way, 
 concerning one of these very articles. This set 
 Impey talking ; and he mapped out the subject in 
 bold outlines, to her inward satisfaction. She was 
 content with th bare outline, and then switched 
 him upon another track, an article in the North 
 8 113
 
 American Review which was shaking the throne 
 of the financial world. She put the gist of that 
 also in a neat little bag and stored it away for a 
 famine. Then she opposed Impey on a point in 
 which she quite well agreed with him at heart. 
 He put forth his best arguments on the tariff ques 
 tion ; and they were the same practically as con 
 tained in the Forum's article; this little coinci 
 dence pleased the bright woman, who had only 
 looked on the cover of the book, and she put 
 the gist of the tariff article also away on a shelf of 
 her brain. 
 
 That very evening a few club friends of her 
 husband were charmed with the brilliancy of this 
 woman ; she was informed on all that was alive 
 and fresh ; she knew not only what was printed, 
 but could give a digest of the salient points ; she 
 went right to the heart of the subject and seemed 
 to give you the kernel without the rind or shell ; 
 she never burdened you with a detail of facts. 
 But the many-sidedness of her reading was the 
 wonder ; she ranged over the whole field, and 
 without treating anything specifically, gave you a 
 bird's eye view of it all. The men went away 
 making a mental comparison between their wives 
 and this woman. Their wives did not seem to 
 read anything ; and yet they had as much time as 
 this woman, who must be burning the midnight
 
 oil to keep abreast with the thought of the 
 times. 
 
 While these gentlemen were being treated to 
 this feast of reason, the little Airy boys were drag 
 ging around the nursery the unopened bundle of 
 the monthlies, using it as a stage coach ; and 
 when the package broke they cut out the pictures 
 and pasted them on the wall. But it did not mat 
 ter ; it gave them pleasure, and mamma did not 
 want them particularly. 
 
 When Mrs. Amos had her shoe given her, she 
 and Mrs. Airy left together, and thought they 
 would stop at the Burrs'. Esther Airy had an ap 
 pointment with her mother and met them as they 
 entered the street. 
 
 They found the Burrs on the veranda, just light 
 ing the lanterns. P^sther, a bright girl of about 
 eighteen, wanted to report the result of her inves 
 tigation into a case which the Society for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Children had in hand. 
 Enid Burr was one of the managers. Miss Airy 
 had been detailed to inquire' into the cases of 
 little girls who carried heavy loads of wood on 
 their heads. She saw a bundle weighing about 
 two hundred pounds, which a little girl, stunted 
 in growth, tried to balance on her head. Two 
 men came along and shifted the load, and after a 
 few staggering steps the child walked off. This 
 "5
 
 was repeated until the whole heap of refuse was 
 carried off by several such little girls. 
 
 "I followed the stunted little girls to their 
 homes," said Esther, " and found them in a state 
 of abject poverty. The father told me of his 
 shamefully scanty wages. This roused me and I 
 went to the contractor. The contractor said the 
 contract was very low the merchant of the ware 
 house would not give more for the job. He di 
 rected me to the merchant. Whom do you think 
 I went to see? It was none other than my own, 
 dear, good father, who was having a new ware 
 house erected for his increasing business. I talked 
 to father, but he said it was a matter of business, 
 and girls could not understand the laws that gov 
 ern business and trade. Now I may not under 
 stand trade ; I know nothing about the tariff, but 
 such as I hear from mamma ; but this one thing 
 I do know, that those stunted little creatures stag 
 gered under their loads, one piece of rubbish 
 was actually in the shape of a cross, and two men 
 had some difficulty in getting it balanced on her 
 head, and that their skulls were flattened and al 
 most crushed by this awful pressure. Now look at 
 this spectacle ; it seemed as though she was go 
 ing to a crucifixion. What did I find ? The 
 child was compelled by the parents ; the father 
 said his wages were low. he was oppressed by the 
 116
 
 contractor ; the contractor said he could not pay 
 more because he was squeezed by the man who 
 builds ; and when I go along the line and trace 
 the matter to its source, I find that my own dear 
 father gets his work done at as cheap a rate 
 as possible, plenty of contractors are willing to do 
 it as cheaply, and so the matter goes, no matter 
 how many skulls are flattened. I thought those 
 spines would crack, every step those little slaves 
 took." 
 
 The company listened with interest to the earn 
 est young girl, and were charmed with the energy 
 and the philosophy she displayed in her day's 
 work. 
 
 Enid Burr silently reflected through it all, and 
 ran over in her mind the number of arrests that had 
 been made to prevent similar cruelty to children. 
 It was always the parents who had been arrested ; 
 and Enid Burr was set thinking about causes. Her 
 mind was open. Her theories were always exposed 
 for revision. She thought of our custom of re 
 garding appearances instead of causes, of dealing 
 with the man caught red-handed, without too 
 closely inquiring into the state of that society that 
 begot him, and the condition of things that bred 
 him. 
 
 She was relieved from her thoughts by her hus 
 band interjecting in a decided tone that savored 
 117
 
 somewhat of quiet indignation, '" I think that lit 
 tle bishop of yours is about right when he says we 
 must trace evils to their sources, seek foundations, 
 and stop this building on hay, wood, and stubble. 
 It is all very well to arrest parents, but had we not 
 better inquire why they have no coal in their cel 
 lars ? " Here Esther began to give a more detailed 
 account of her talk with her father. She learned 
 that his profits, clear of all expenses, were fifty 
 dollars a day; that if he was willing to give only 
 a portion of this, he still could live, and the con 
 tractor could then give better wages to the work 
 men ; the workmen in turn could put coal into 
 their cellars, and then the little girls need not be 
 sent out to have their skulls flattened and their 
 spines broken. But her father said it was not 
 business-like; and so the result of all these methods 
 is that little children are squeezed and ground be 
 tween the upper stone of business methods and the 
 nether stone of circumstance. 
 
 " Papa then opened a drawer and gave me ten 
 dollars, and told me to buy a hat if I liked. He 
 also paid his subscription to the Society, and said 
 I was a good girl to be thoughtful for the poor, 
 but I really did not know much about business , 
 and it would not be well to inquire too closely into 
 the matter ; it was a complex question and men in 
 business shut their eyes and got along the best they 
 118
 
 could. I don't need a hat ; those little girls had 
 none ; they made a cushion of old rags and then 
 loaded their dreadful loads on it, and staggered 
 down the street." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 WAYS AND MEANS. 
 
 He liveth long who liveth well, 
 All else is life but flung away, 
 He liveth longest who can tell 
 Of true things truly done each day. 
 Anon. 
 
 QUITE late one evening after a busy day, Ai 
 had settled down in his large wicker chair before 
 a blazing fire, for his usual hour of light reading. 
 He had drawn the blinds, for he wished to be en 
 tirely alone. It was his custom to keep his win 
 dows unshaded until late in the evening, to give 
 the people of the street a glimpse of his room 
 his bright fire, the few pieces of bric-a-brac which 
 had been given him, his pictorial papers with which 
 he decorated the walls, his books, and the boys 
 who rolled on his rugs ; all these things made him 
 the happy man he was, and he wished to share 
 them with all who passed. But late'in the even 
 ing he claimed an hour of solitude. He had just 
 119
 
 taken down a volume of Whittier, when he heard 
 a gentle, timid rap at the door. He opened it and 
 the light of the fire aided him in recognizing the 
 young priest who had followed in the procession 
 to the little cathedral. He stood timidly, waiting 
 for a special invitation. 
 
 The bishop reached out both hands and drew 
 him in, and placed him in the wicker chair. He 
 seemed exhausted and really quite sick. As he re 
 moved his hat, the lines on this young face seemed 
 deeper, and the gray in the hair more abundant, 
 than Ai thought, the day he first saw him. He 
 had a troubled look ; but casting a glance about 
 the poorly furnished room, and feeling still the 
 warm grasp of the bishop's hand, he took courage, 
 as if this seemed a place where one might find 
 sympathy. 
 
 " I came to see you at this late hour because 
 I wanted to find you alone ; -I can now speak 
 without being disturbed or limited by your engage 
 ments. Sometimes the business air in the treat 
 ment of our work takes out of it all its life and 
 merit." 
 
 "Now we can talk as friends," interjected the 
 bishop, as he threw on the fire the contents of the 
 waste basket, which sent out a delightful glow. 
 The bishop 'moved up a little closer and asked 
 what he might do for him.
 
 " I have just taken,, as you know but vestries 
 sometimes manage such things, and you may not 
 know I have just been called to the rectorship 
 of St. John's, and I would like to do my duty in 
 that field, which I believe to be a good one, if 
 properly cultivated." 
 
 "That is a fine old church," said the bishop, 
 ' ' and you ought to feel happy with such op 
 portunities." He then put more kindlings on 
 the fire, which sent the shadows dancing on the 
 walls. 
 
 " Yes, but there is nobody in it," suggested the 
 troubled man. 
 
 "JBut there are plenty in the lanes around, I 
 warrant you," added the bishop, and we must 
 seek them out and compel them to come in. My 
 uncle Toby was an old soldier, and he used to say 
 there is nothing like changing your plan of 
 attack. One great point is gained. You ac 
 knowledge that there is an enemy around ; that 
 is half the victory. Your old position won't 
 do, that is evident. How many will your church 
 hold?" 
 
 "Eight hundred." 
 
 " How many are there when your force is 
 strongest ? ' ' 
 
 "About two hundred." 
 
 121
 
 "Then there is a waste of space for six hun 
 dred; or three-fourths is wasted." 
 
 "It seems so." 
 
 " How many gas jets ? " 
 
 "Eighty." 
 
 "Twenty would do; a waste of sixty ; at a 
 dollar a year, sixty dollars, all wasted. This 
 waste of gas is something that appeals to me very 
 forcibly as I make my quiet dashes into the 
 churches. I am irresistibly impelled toward 
 counting the jets, which I find very frequently out 
 number the persons in the congregations in our 
 expensive churches. 
 
 "The time will come when business principles 
 will be applied to this matter of unproductive 
 capital in the shape of expensive church architec 
 ture. But as to the gas, I have a friend, Impey, 
 who tells me with a twinkle, that there seems to 
 him a waste of gas in more senses than one. 
 However, let that go." Those lines seemed to 
 fade for the moment. 
 
 " You say there are many people around ? " 
 
 "Yes, but how to get them to come, is the 
 question." 
 
 "That church was a power once, and it can 
 be made a power again ; and we will see the day 
 when it will be done. You and I, my boy, will 
 see it once more swarm with boys and girls." 
 122
 
 The cheerful air of the bishop put courage into 
 the timid man, and he began to speak more 
 freely. 
 
 "If you will come here to-day a week, in the 
 morning, I will have you meet a lady who may 
 aid us to solve the matter. I will get her to 
 draw up plans, and she will explain them to you 
 and we will take counsel." 
 
 The young man arose to go. 
 
 " But before you go, I may as well give you a 
 little idea of what I have been thinking about. 
 You say you can spare fully three-fourths of your 
 space. We will divide this unused space into at 
 least three rooms. The other fourth will remain 
 as your church, fitted up as usual for preaching 
 and your usual services. We still need some 
 preaching, but it is evident something else is more 
 urgent, and so we need less preaching room and 
 more of something else. You have, no doubt, 
 some bright business man who will be pleased to 
 take one of those rooms and do with it much as 
 he would with his office go to it regularly, take 
 some interest, and feel an occasional burden on 
 his mind growing out of that work. He will per 
 haps sit down and read to a few boys, who have 
 few opportunities; this is a point gained. Then 
 he will get them to read in turn until they be 
 come interested; this will set them thinking; 
 123
 
 then one will speak out ; that will provoke an 
 other to reply ; and so the evening will pass. If 
 the book is one relating to fair dealing in every 
 day life, and justice in all things, it will be a 
 great good to the world to have these boys think 
 about it, for they will soon be men. That even 
 ing can be made a model for seven evenings in 
 the week, all varied according to the progressive 
 ideas of the business man, and the suggestions of 
 the boys. Call this the Department of Justice. 
 Paint the name over the door, or get one of the 
 boys to do it." 
 
 The priest moved closer to the bishop. 
 
 " You have in your congregation, perhaps, an 
 other business man who is bright and capable of 
 dealing with living issues. Give him a room and 
 tell him it is his, and that he is to use it as he 
 would his office. To make it a success he will 
 not lock it up six days in the week. He will per 
 haps gather only a few boys at first to look at pic 
 torial papers, but that will lead to reading. He 
 then will select books and articles which they will 
 read individually and discuss in the circle. Per 
 haps they will look into the question of how men, 
 rich and poor, are mutually dependent upon one 
 another ; they will read of and discuss the institu 
 tions of our country and city, its prisons, hospi 
 tals, schools, industrial agencies, commerce, and 
 124
 
 the various living questions that come up among 
 men living together. Call this the Department of 
 Social Science. Have a boy learning a trade paint 
 it over the door ; he will take special interest in it 
 and will do it well, I assure you." 
 
 " Can boys be made to take an interest in such 
 matters ? " suggested the priest. 
 
 "Try them ; cheat a boy at ball and see how 
 soon his sense of justice is aroused ; see how he 
 will appeal to his fellows to society. See how 
 they will take an interest in an arrest or a fight. A 
 boy will take an interest in anything that concerns 
 man as living among men Social Science, sir, 
 and we must see that the proper kind of light is 
 shed upon these questions of life, 
 
 "Your department of social science will be a 
 power, and we must see that it is established. I 
 say we, for I mean to help you. How many heart 
 aches in this world could have been avoided, if the 
 boy, who has grown into a man, had been brought 
 up at the feet of your plain man in your depart 
 ment of justice, and learnt the simple rule of just 
 dealing, as one kind boy deals with another free 
 from all false ambitions and the baser passions that 
 rule men later in life. We must get back to the 
 justice of youth, and away from the justice of 
 technicality. Then we will find some bright 
 woman who wants something to do as an outlet for 
 125
 
 her energies ; give her a room and tell her it is her 
 own." 
 
 The young priest's eyes brightened and he moved 
 nervously in his chair ; this was the third time this 
 bishop said we. 
 
 " This woman will gather the younger children, 
 boys and girls who throw mud, and who make 
 noises, who kick gates and annoy their neighbors. 
 These are not bad children, they simply want 
 some rational way to give vent to their abundant 
 energy ; not finding a rational way, they find an 
 irrational one. The woman will teach them a 
 more excellent way. She will not deprive them of 
 mud, but will teach them to mould it into a crude 
 vase, an animal, or a locomotive. She will teach 
 those noisy feet to tramp in orderly methodical 
 steps. Those noises will be turned into songs of 
 clean and helpful words ; and the hours will be 
 gone only too soon. Call it a Kindergarten. The 
 children will rebel against the school, but will cry 
 for the Kindergarten. That is about what we must 
 do ; and I will get my friend to draw up the plans 
 of alterations. Humanity is there, you admit; 
 the framework of a church is there, too ; we must 
 cause these dry bones to live. " 
 
 They talked long and earnestly ; the priest fre 
 quently taking hold of the bishop's arm, and 
 pressing it convulsively, which the bishop some- 
 126
 
 times answered by playfully tapping him on the 
 shoulder. He arose a second time to go but the 
 bishop would not have it ; he must not go out on 
 such a night, for the rain was falling and great drops 
 of sleet were blown against the window. No one 
 expected him home, and he could have a bed in 
 there among the books. It was a little alcove com 
 pletely lined with shelves, even the rafters had 
 shelves suspended from them. At the entrance 
 was a revolving book-case, operating like a turn 
 stile. At the other end was a small window, the 
 light falling upon the pillow of a narrow bed which 
 was placed in the centre of the alcove, leaving 
 scarcely room for passage to the books. Here the 
 bishop read when fatigued, and the tired man was 
 shown to this bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 WAS HE INTRUSIVE? 
 
 The truth shall make you free. Jesus. 
 
 WHEN it reached the bishop's ear that the 
 church at the corner of Franklin and Wood had 
 been sold, he was somewhat surprised. That it 
 had escaped his notice was exasperating, but it 
 
 was now beyond his control. To see any retreat 
 127
 
 of the ranks was always to him sad and annoying. 
 When, however, on inquiring, he learned that the 
 property had been bought by Impey, he raised his 
 eyebrows and wondered what all this might mean. 
 Possibly Impey, after all, was a Christian out and 
 out, and only affected his little objections. Impey 
 might be his secret ally after all, and might have 
 saved the property to the Church. While the 
 bishop was framing his plans for active, aggressive 
 work at that corner, Impey was in a little room 
 of the church, laying his plans. 
 
 There was no doubt, he concluded, after think 
 ing the matter over carefully, that conventional 
 Christianity was a failure as a practical force, and 
 something else must be brought in as a substitute, 
 or at least as a supplement. He had walked the 
 streets of the neighborhood and had seen the 
 shameful condition of things, and was the more 
 convinced of the impotence of this creed to meet 
 the situation. The trouble is, he thought, that 
 no one believes the creed to which he nominally 
 adheres. These sellers of rum are all baptized 
 Christians, but their faith sits lightly on them. t 
 
 These criminals are all versed in the language 
 of the Sunday School, but it has not governed 
 their lives. This seething mass of corrupt 
 humanity has all been steeped in the proper for 
 mulas of the Christian creeds, but they have failed to 
 128
 
 keep it pure. There is something wrong. Perhaps 
 it is not on account of the principles of Christ, but 
 because the principles of Christ have been mis 
 represented, and the man has been caricatured, 
 that this indifference to, or revulsion from conven 
 tional Christianity has been brought about. 
 
 Then, too, perhaps the principles of one man 
 did not embody all truth, and the principles of 
 other men were needed to round out the whole sum 
 of truth. Thus he reasoned to himself as he looked 
 about him and saw the effect of the system upon 
 character. But what was to be done, wa* the ques 
 tion. That the Christians did not themselves be 
 lieve very earnestly in the strength of their position 
 was evident. This was seen in their retreats from 
 the field. 
 
 Here was humanity sick, and these organized 
 Christians had nothing to offer for its healing. 
 Or if it made a pretense of offering, it was in such 
 doses and such form that no one could seriously be 
 expected to take it. But the most marked con 
 fession of weakness was this readiness to re 
 treat. 
 
 On the side of the masses there was mistrust ; it 
 seemed to them that these creeds did not produce 
 practical righteousness. They had not met with 
 their ideals among the believers of these creeds. 
 
 The men and women walking these streets had 
 9 I2 9
 
 at some time in their lives met with injustice at 
 the hands of one of these brethren, and it pro 
 duced a shock to their moral sense ; there followed 
 a revolt, or an indifference to a system that pro 
 duced such poor men as to make it possible for one 
 to be wounded in the house of one's friends. This 
 want of practical righteousness repelled, and so 
 they sold their rum, and sold themselves, and re 
 venged themselves by petty thefts, and went on in 
 their unclean ways; excusing themselves in the 
 thought that had it not been for a certain wrong 
 done thenf, and a certain injustice, they would not 
 be in this present state ; and so they go on and 
 become utterly reckless. Impey inquired into the 
 matter and found that for him to mention Chris 
 tianity to some men was damaging to his cause, 
 This of course arose, he knew, on account of the 
 misrepresentations of the real Jesus ; he had been 
 caricatured ; and the remedy was to set these peo 
 ple right, and state the facts. 
 
 False teaching was at the bottom of the trouble. 
 It would be a great gain to separate Jesus and his 
 teaching from the accretions which have gathered 
 through the years, mostly through the ignorance 
 of teachers, and the inherent superstition of some 
 men. These accretions of Christianity misled the 
 unwary, and caused a revolt among thinkers ; it 
 would be justice to Jesus to separate them from 
 130
 
 that which he really taught, and thus raise the 
 great teacher to a level where the clear-thoughted 
 could meet him, and so respect him. This would 
 meet the difficulties of a class very large indeed, 
 men with noble impulses and a leaning toward the 
 righteous act, who yet have no sympathy with or 
 ganized Christianity as found and exemplified in 
 life. 
 
 Then also there may be truths in other direc 
 tions. Over and above this Christianity, when 
 that has been threshed out from the chaff, 
 there may be something vitalizing, truthful, com, 
 ing from other sources; this must be brought in 
 to supplement this pure truth of Christianity. The 
 rills that converge to form this great river of truth 
 are many, and they come from sources widely 
 separated. Possibly Buddha has something to 
 offer, very old ; possibly the one God of the 
 Hebrews has a word that ought to be heeded ; per 
 haps Mohammed may have a grain that may serve 
 for the purifying of society ; and so, too, perhaps 
 there is a bit of truth uttered by those of lesser 
 note and fame, voices about us, not soft in their 
 cadences, and frequently too, quite soft, so that 
 they are often unnoticed and entirely lost. Possi 
 bly we have heard with one ear only, and moved 
 in grooves too narrow, and been entirely too one 
 sided. That this great force of truth has not pre- 
 13 1
 
 vailed, s'eems to be evident. But perhaps the 
 trouble is that we have smothered it, or have taken 
 a lie in its stead. 
 
 Maybe we are not willing to seek the truth in the 
 right direction, or in all directions. 
 
 The little room seemed to stifle him as Impey 
 walked up and down, looking out oC the window 
 occasionally and thinking it all over. Here was a 
 Church that had stood for the truth, this truth that 
 should make men free ; and were these men and 
 women free ? or were they slaves, slaves to their sel 
 fish instincts, slaves to their appetites, slaves to all 
 the baser masters that rule mankind ? There was an 
 other Church around the corner that stood for the 
 truth that should make men free ; but they long 
 ago had retreated from the field, leaving humanity 
 their own brethren, too in bondage prison 
 ers in despair. He sat down by a table and 
 fingered mechanically a Bible, and then rose 
 again nervously and looked into the empty church. 
 It smelt musty, and it needed airing ; the thing 
 stood in need of renovation, he thought. He then 
 made a mental calculation as to the dimensions ; 
 and then went out into the street, leaving the 
 door standing wide open. " They won't go in, I 
 warrant you," he muttered to himself as he walked 
 in the direction of Minster Street, to have a talk 
 with Ai. 
 
 132
 
 " I am glad you came, Jmpey ; for I need your 
 assistance in pulling the ropes." 
 
 Impey looked astonished ; to think that this 
 straight-forward, sincere, and single-minded man 
 should have degenerated into a puller of wires and 
 ropes. 
 
 "She was a woman in the true sense of the 
 word," continued Ai, "and it is time that such 
 have recognition." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Ai then explained. 
 
 " Did she make, speeches ? " inquired Impey. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Did she serve on numerous committees ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Did she make the other women green with 
 envy ? ' ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Did she write? " 
 
 " She could write her name." 
 
 " What did she do then, that the flag ought to 
 be lowered ? I never heard of her. ' ' 
 
 "She was a woman, a plain woman; not en 
 tirely ignorant, read a little while nursing her 
 baby ; mended her children's clothes ; cooked her 
 husband's meals, and made her home such that he 
 longed to get there in the evening. She never 
 came to my Church and yet was always serving. I
 
 could teach her little of duty she did not know ; 
 her trouble, she said, was in the willing. I often 
 went to her home because I learnt so much. She 
 enriched the world by bringing into it three men, 
 a carpenter, a plumber, and a cleaner of the 
 streets. The carpenter once said, ' I do not give 
 in church collections, I give honest houses.' 
 The plumber was once discharged because he re 
 fused to cover up a defective drain. The cleaner 
 of streets had a gang of men who loaded ashes 
 conscientiously, and observed a code of ethics in 
 dumping that never left any heartaches. A 
 woman who so ordered her affairs as to render such 
 help to society was no unimportant person. Yes, 
 Impey, we must lower the flag of the school-house 
 half-mast ; a woman has been taken away from us 
 a plain woman but her worth will yet be felt in 
 the honest houses, the honest plumbing, the clean 
 streets. Let us ask the boys to help us and teach 
 them its significance. Come, Impey, help me to 
 manipulate the ropes." 
 
 As they walked back to Ai's room, after the low 
 ering of the flag, each seemed trying to find away 
 to introduce the subject of the new venture at 
 Franklin and Wood, and both felt diffident. At 
 last the bishop remarked that he was glad to hear 
 that he was to have such an assistant in his work, 
 that he had heard of Impey's purchase.
 
 " I should be pleased to have your help and co 
 operation," retorted Impey; " but in this matter I 
 must be leader and you will follow." 
 
 The bishop looked pleased at his spirit, and in 
 quired particulars. 
 
 " You had," said Impey, " a fair chance and a 
 fair field around the corner ; but you yielded the 
 ground and deserted the field ; it is time that 
 something else were tried." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "You remember, but perhaps you don't, St. 
 Philip's, just around the corner ? It is no Church 
 now. By elevation and enlargement, by additions 
 and readjustments it became a machinery for the 
 making of a fortune. It was a Church once, a ma 
 chinery for the making of men." 
 
 " I do not remember, but have heard of it," 
 thoughtfully said the bishop. 
 
 "The Church I bought and St. Philip's almost 
 touched one another at their chancel ends, and 
 stretched out at right angles, St. Philip's facing 
 Vine Street, and my Church facing Franklin Street. 
 A yard of graves filled the angle. The organized 
 Christianity, called St. Philip's, has removed long 
 ago ; but the wickedness of the neighborhood is 
 still there. Wickedness, indeed, seems to have or 
 ganized itself still stronger since this retreat, and 
 is taking a new lease of life." As Impey was 
 *35
 
 about to go on, the bishop timidly remarked that 
 this happened long before his time. " You know," 
 said he sadly, " that I was not responsible for that 
 deflection ; that was before my time, and no one 
 can be more sorry than I, to see any such re 
 treat." 
 
 " Nevertheless, there is the hard fact ; and now 
 there was to be another surrender of a stronghold. 
 I have, however, taken the matter into my own 
 hands. I want you, bishop, to help me all you 
 can, but as to leadership, you will allow me that." 
 
 The bishop felt sad and a little irritated, and re 
 turned to the St. Philip's matter, which he him 
 self had termed a deflection. He felt that some 
 thing might be said that might make the matter 
 appear not so bad after all. He reminded Impey 
 that the organization had only changed its base of 
 operation and had removed to Broad and Spring 
 Garden Streets, and had there joined hands with 
 another church, and thus formed a formidable and 
 solid phalanx, moving against the enemy. The 
 united churches were doing a good work for hu 
 manity now. 
 
 "No doubt, no doubt," interrupted Impey, 
 " but it is the same story over again ; it is a con 
 fession of weakness and an inability to cope with 
 the evils of society. The removal simply means, 
 136
 
 a neglecting to feed the flock that is starving, and 
 a going to shear the wool of the well-fed." 
 
 " But they are gathering the children, I under 
 stand," offered the troubled bishop, " and are do 
 ing active, aggressive work ; they are going to 
 make alterations, so as to have suitable machinery 
 for meeting the demands of the times, and are 
 about regaining their lost ground." 
 
 "Such lost ground," replied Impey excitedly, 
 "can never be regained. Such an enemy can 
 never be fought at a distance. At close range 
 at close range, it is the only way to meet such an 
 enemy." 
 
 " But they have a good field where they have 
 gone to," suggested the bishop. 
 
 " Splendid, excellent, sir ; but who is to guaran 
 tee that they will hold out there when tribulations 
 arise ? This shifting about is a confession of weak 
 ness ; the tree seems to grow only in a certain 
 soil. This may be the order in nature, but your 
 Christianity is supposed to possess the earth, and 
 take into its circle all sorts and conditions theen- 
 tire brotherhood. But does it do so ? Your priest 
 maps out for himself a narrow circle, and strives 
 to create for himself a pleasant place. If his nat 
 ural sagacity has failed him, and he finds the field 
 hard, he retreats, no matter about the swarming 
 hive of imperfect humanity he leaves behind. He 
 137
 
 confesses that what he has to offer will flourish 
 only in certain soils, and he seeks those. The 
 Nazarene gathered about him the motley crowd, 
 the common people. But where is your priest 
 who has clinging to his skirts, as to a brother, the 
 sorrowing poor ? who is really a friend of sin 
 ners, and really loves little children ? Where is 
 your priest who speaks as if he had a vision ; as 
 if he believed that righteousness should one day pos 
 sess the earth, and that he was ushering in the 
 dawn by spreading light among the erring, by 
 bringing strength to the weak, by uplifting the 
 down-trodden of the earth, and by the practice of 
 a true justice ? Is not your work a pleasant going 
 among the ninety and nine just persons who seem 
 to need no repentance ; and then when some 
 startling facts reveal that they do need repent 
 ance like other people, these prophets seal their 
 lips and have no words." 
 
 The bishop had a troubled look and watched 
 the fire during a long silence. 
 
 He trembled with emotion, Impey thought. 
 During this silence, a feeling of pity came to Im 
 pey, and he thought that perhaps he had been 
 too hard, perhaps had been misinterpreted by his 
 bosom friend, who was living there in poverty 
 among the poorest of the poor, and was under 
 going a daily crucifixion that others might have 
 138
 
 light and help. He looked about his poor room, 
 and then at the fine man who was capable of 
 appreciating the better and more comfortable 
 things of life. He was stung with remorse by 
 the thought that perhaps the bishop had taken 
 all these truths to himself. So he tried to make 
 plain what he meant. " But" said Impey, "they 
 are not all alike. Through a selfish world there 
 was moving grandly, often obscurely, a Nazarene. 
 Such men we still have. We want a few more 
 like yourself." 
 
 This lightened his heart a little, but Ai seemed 
 still to have something weighing upon him. He 
 looked Impey in the face for a moment and then 
 asked him whether he proposed to attack Chris 
 tianity. 
 
 " No, not attack, but supplement it. To attack 
 Christianity were to attack a great deal of truth ; 
 this truth ought to be emphasized rather, and 
 then supplemented by other light from the stars 
 themselves. We have grasped only a little truth ; 
 now we must advance and take possession of the 
 whole truth and nothing but the truth." 
 
 The bishop pressed his hand as he arose to go : 
 
 " May light and courage be given you." 
 139
 
 CHAPTER XVI.* 
 
 * Suppressed. 
 
 140
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 A CHAPTER THROWN IN. 
 
 A winged word hath struck ineradically in a million hearts, and 
 envenomed every hour throughout their hard pulsation. On a winged 
 word hath hung the destiny of nations. On a winged word hath 
 human wisdom been willing to cast the immortal soul, and leave it 
 dependent for all its future happiness. /F. S. Landor. 
 
 MY friend Impey reminds me that the readers 
 of this book had a very narrow escape for which 
 they will be very grateful when they come to think 
 about it. Do you remember, General, that battle 
 tha-t you might have gotten into ? Think, for a 
 moment, of its flow of blood, the shrieks of the 
 wounded and their torturing thirst, the smell of 
 powder, the fatigue of the march, the pangs of 
 hunger, the roar of cannon, the beating of drums, 
 the rush of calvary, the glitter of bayonets ; re 
 member, I said the battle that you might have got 
 ten into. Of course you never did get into it ; you 
 always got out of it ; you never ran those risks, 
 nor were exposed to those dangers ; but you might 
 have gotten into an awful charnel-house. That re 
 flection makes you the thankful man that you are. 
 Three times a day you get down on your knees 
 and feel grateful for having somehow escaped 
 141
 
 danger, not having even come near it. And so 
 appretiative reader. y<?u entertain toward me a 
 feeling akin to the General's, for having protected 
 y0u from the awful consequences that would have 
 ensued had I not chosen and written Ai, but with 
 one dash of the pen, in cold blood, deliberately 
 and intentionally traced out in my clear, bold, 
 round hand, Nebuchadnezzar Wallenstein, and 
 selected him as the hero of this tale. Ask the 
 Professor about this. He says that if you could 
 see under a microscope the action of the nerves 
 and muscles and the rush of blood, brought 
 about in the thinking of a single thought, how 
 ever tiny, men would be so overcome by the ter 
 rible sight, that they would think a long time be 
 fore they could bring their minds to think another 
 thought. .Mentel action is a terrible thing. Ask 
 the Professor about this and you will be convinced 
 that Impey was right. ' You will see how much 
 genuine consideration there was for humanity, how 
 much real benevolence there lay back of it all, 
 when I reduced from twenty-five to two letters the 
 name of my hero. Did you even think about it? 
 If you did not, then do. Think of the difference 
 between having to walk twenty-five miles to the 
 post-office instead of only two, just across the hill. 
 Think of the strain saved to the eye is not being 
 obliged to see those twenty-three additional letters, 
 142
 
 and the saving of brain-force in not being obliged 
 to think how they ought to be pronounced. And 
 looking at the matter from a business standpoint, 
 the saving in type-setting is simply wonderful. 
 Every time the hero's name occurs, the type-setter 
 is saved the trouble of going for twenty-three ad 
 ditional letters. 
 
 You may go through this book and count the 
 number of times the name occurs, and see for 
 yourself, if you like. Then consider for I do 
 not care to ask anyone to think, after what the 
 Professor has told me, consider the number of 
 additional pages it would have taken, and the 
 extra quantity of ink. All this, of course, would 
 have been preceded by the extra destruction of 
 pens, and cost of paper, and postage, in getting 
 the extra manuscript to the printer. This would 
 have made a difference in the cost of the book. 
 Pens, ink, paper, type-setting, printing all cost 
 money, and it has been saved, and you have the 
 benefit of it. But the Professor's scientific dis 
 covery and suggestion, dear Madam, is perhaps 
 the strongest consideration calling for gratefulness 
 on your part. The wear and tear upon the brain 
 that was spared you, with its possible conse 
 quences, will make you as grateful as is the General. 
 Of course you cannot appreciate all this without 
 counting the number of times the name occurs, 
 143
 
 this I do not ask you to do ; but merely wish to 
 call your attention to a great truth, that it is in 
 just such little things that true benevolence and 
 the kindly heart show themselves. There was here 
 a real interest in, and consideration for, humanity 
 in general and you in particular. 
 
 And now consider for a moment another matter. 
 As this book may be translated into every known 
 tongue, it will be a very simple matter to have to 
 translate simply, Ai. The saving in type-setting 
 will be simply enormous, considering that every 
 language will require a separate reprint, if all na 
 tions on the face of the globe will insist upon hav 
 ing the book. 
 
 Now let me give you still another, and an en 
 tirely new matter, for your consideration. Won't 
 you come over and sit here, Susie? there is 
 plenty of room. 
 
 That's right I knew you would. 
 
 Did you ever consider but really you must not 
 get offended at what I wish to say, will you? 
 
 No, I knew you would not. 
 
 Did you ever reflect on the chronic laziness of 
 mankind ? I mean men and women in general. 
 Of course we can only know this fact by observing 
 individuals. Now take yourself for example. You 
 have been reading this book without discovering 
 that in this chapter alone there have been thus far 
 144
 
 2 words misspelt ; 3 errors in punctuation ; 5 typo 
 graphical errors ; i of ignorance, not mine ; and 
 i slip in grammar; the faculty is divided, 
 some say, none, but I confess to one, and yet 
 you have never noticed this. Your cousin noticed 
 some, but she passed them all over in her sweet 
 charity, and said they were merely typographical 
 errors. But they are not. They were deliber 
 ately and intentionally put there to show you how 
 instinctively lazy we are, and how little attention 
 we really pay, even to such a book as this. We 
 rush along to see how it all turns out, and miss the 
 real pith and point of its teaching. You will of 
 course see the importance now of the strictest at 
 tention ; for there is not a sentence which was not 
 written and re-written for your especial benefit and 
 instruction. But what was not put in, will per 
 haps appeal to you most strongly. Hundreds of 
 words have been expunged, even whole chapters 
 have been thrown out, out of consideration for 
 you. One publisher wished to throw out the 
 whole book for the good of the human race, as 
 he archly remarked. That man is now bitterly 
 repenting his thoughtlessness. 
 
 But after the Professor's suggestion, you will 
 admit the truly altruistic spirit pervading these 
 pages. It is in just such little things, in the un- 
 10 145
 
 noticed thoughtful omissions of life, that the truly 
 kindly heart shows itself. 
 
 I^^Nebuchadnezzar Wallenstein. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 CONCERNING THE SUPPRESSED CHAPTER. 
 
 What is it ye would see ? 
 
 If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search. Shakespeare. 
 
 WHEN I called at the office of The Underground 
 Magazine to see why the November number had 
 been so long delayed, I was met by the editor as 
 he was going out to dinner. He did not invite 
 me to go with him, but turned back and waved 
 me to a chair. I was anxious to see how my work 
 looked in print, but tried to appear unconcerned. 
 He also seemed nervous about something, though 
 he endeavored to conceal his feelings, with, how 
 ever, as little success as I had. There was a pause, 
 quite long, but he finally said, " I ordered the 
 presses stopped and took out that chapter." He 
 added something more, but it was so vague, that I 
 146
 
 was not quite sure of the motive for his action. 
 The way he said it led me to think that he meant 
 that the meat was too strong for the babes to digest; 
 though when thinking it over, I got the idea that 
 he might possibly mean that such milk was too 
 weak for this progressive, thoughtful age. He had 
 a most tantalizing way of concealing his thoughts. 
 There was one thing sure, however I had been 
 paid for it. I sold his reverend lordship suffi- 
 cent material to make a good substantial pair, of 
 full length ; but if he thinks that this sinful age 
 demands Knickerbockers, there is nothing to be 
 consulted but his own good pleasure. Possibly 
 the remnant can be used for an apron. 
 
 The pressman said it could best be arranged by 
 a blank and a star. 
 
 This was a simple thing to do, but the commo 
 tion it caused cannot easily be imagined. The 
 public at once was aroused, imaginations were 
 stimulated, and not a few wanted to know the con 
 tents of that suppressed chapter. The public of 
 course turned to the papers for reliable informa 
 tion. 
 
 The Press said, the chapter is supposed to have 
 given an account of how the trolly ordinance was 
 passed ; and then went into an explanation of 
 what was meant by the trolly, something that is 
 not likely to be understood at this time, but which 
 147
 
 nevertheless excited no little popular interest fifty 
 years ago. The chapter also had some remarkable 
 statements as to the methods employed behind the 
 scenes, which were fair samples of the purity of 
 politics and legislatures half a century ago. 
 
 The Telegraph regarded the whole matter as a 
 pleasantry of the author's, and it worked well, as 
 the sale of the periodical had greatly increased. 
 A representative ef the Telegraph had seen the 
 author, and had become convinced that there 
 never had been a chapter written. The author 
 knew the public, and thought a blank gave as much 
 diversion and amusement as a written chapter, 
 which needed to be very bright indeed to cause as 
 much diversion as this omission. Readers wanted 
 diversion and they got it. 
 
 The Bulletin gave what was claimed to be an 
 abstract of the chapter. It was to the effect that 
 bishops were elected much like the president of 
 the country or any other politician ; that it was a 
 singular piece of business behind the scenes ; as 
 peculiar in some respects as in England, where the 
 Queen hands in the name of the prospective bishop 
 and commands his election, and then the body 
 goes into the cathedral and prays for light and 
 guidance as to the choice of a fit person for the 
 holy office. This suppressed Chapter also gave an 
 amusing account of a celebrated case, that of a 
 148
 
 prelate, of whom strangers invariably remarked, 
 after an introduction, " I wonder how he ever 
 came to be made a bishop ? " 
 
 The Ledger said that no exact information could 
 be obtained concerning the suppressed chapter; 
 that only six copies of the periodical had -been 
 run off the press, when it was stopped, the copies 
 destroyed, and the chapter taken out. It was sup 
 posed, however, that the author was certain that 
 more could be made of it in a future book ; as it 
 contained gold, that by judicious hammering, 
 might be made into quite an ornament, in short, 
 there was to be another book ; and that if poetry 
 was to be inserted, it would probably be a three- 
 volume affair. 
 
 The Record surmised that the chapter contained 
 the author's real opinions concerning the final tri 
 umph of the Holy See over all opposing forces ; 
 but for some unaccountable reason, which no one 
 seems able to discover, the Chapter, which is said 
 to have been really quite remarkable, was sup 
 pressed. 
 
 The North American said that the sermon 
 preached at Ai's consecration had been inserted ; 
 but the publisher impiously maintained that it 
 was not live matter, and so the chapter was sup 
 pressed. 
 
 The Times maintained that the blank was left 
 149
 
 for the special accommodation of that man who is 
 sure to sing his marginal notes. His bright 
 thoughts will now be written in one place, mak 
 ing the most thoughtful chapter in the book, per 
 haps. This chapter in each book will be different, 
 as will be seen ; but all may be collected some 
 day, and published as a- literary curiosity. It was 
 an artful, designing idea, which will yet bear fruit 
 in the shape of unsullied margins, to the delight 
 of trustful friends and painstaking librarians. 
 
 The Item was the only paper that treated the 
 matter editorially. This was to the effect that a 
 representative of the Item had seen the chapter, 
 but that the manner in which the information was 
 obtained did not commend itself to the policy and 
 principles of true journalism, and that the repre 
 sentative had been discharged. He had intruded 
 into the privacy of the home ; and while this 
 might be considered by others of the profession as 
 enterprise, invasion of the sanctity of the home 
 merited only rebuke, from those who wished to 
 keep their journalistic skirts unsullied. 
 '50
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A WEDDING DANCE. 
 
 I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 
 
 To reverence the king as if he were their conscience 
 
 And their conscience as their king. 
 
 To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 
 
 To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it. 
 
 To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 
 
 To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 
 
 And worship her by years of noble deeds. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THE marriage of Esther Airy was an event in 
 Philadelphia's fashionable circle. She was mar 
 ried in her new home, 422 S. Front Street. Mrs. 
 Airy had at first resisted this going to the old 
 homestead, but she yielded gracefully in the end. 
 She was of the diplomatic turn of mind that 
 quickly perceived when the combination of cir 
 cumstances was against her, and then knew how 
 to yield in such a way as not even have it seem a 
 yielding, but rather a voluntary move for the best 
 advantage. Mrs. Airy had her friends soon of the 
 opinion that she was to be congratulated on the 
 course things were taking ; and seizing every point 
 of advantage made them really quite envious. 
 The old house was a fine vantage ground. There
 
 was a move toward the aesthetic in architecture, 
 and this served her well. There was a rivalry in 
 the tearing down of fronts and substituting new 
 fronts of some antique pattern. The architects 
 were vying with one another in their efforts to in 
 vent the strangest and oddest designs. They re 
 fused to move beyond the magic lines, but im 
 ported art and beauty and stamped their houses 
 with it in their reverence for the past. But Mrs. 
 Airy would have none of it. This was all imita 
 tion, and she said they even tried to get the cheap 
 est imitations ; there was an unreality about it all 
 which she scorned and would not yield to. Her 
 Esther should have the real thing or nothing. 
 Her friends should see something which would not 
 on the face of it strike one as an affectation, 
 a thing out of place. Everything should be in 
 perfect harmony with the surroundings ; this 
 would prove fascinating to lovers of art and the 
 antique, and would have its desired effect. There 
 have been spacious halls constructed of late years, 
 but none that seem to speak hospitable words like 
 these halls. 
 
 There have been no successful imitations of 
 those arches, that seem to welcome by their 
 curves ; and that stairway, with its quaint mahog 
 any railing and pillars,. there could be no imi 
 tation of that. There existed circular stair-ways,
 
 no doubt, and there were numerous wide and 
 beautiful angular stair-ways with their restful plat 
 forms ; but you could go through all this city and 
 not find another oval stair- way, with. one continu 
 ous railing from roof to cellar. The small brother 
 of Esther thought it the finest unobstructed device 
 he had ever seen. Mrs. Airy would make sure to 
 have the mammas of Esther's friends see this, and 
 would stand by and notice the effect. 
 
 Then those oval windows piercing the walls 
 here and there ; a genuine latticed window with 
 lead a century old ; dormer windows with their' 
 moss-covered shingles and fine mouldings ; open 
 fire-places and their carved mantelpieces ; corner 
 closets with their tiny square panes for exhibiting 
 china ; overhanging wooden cornices, solid and 
 imposing, looking down with scorn upon imita 
 tions in tin ; heavy shutters studded with broad- 
 headed, wroughtiron nails, as if for a defense 
 against revolutionary bullets; walls scraped of a 
 century's accumulation of paper, down to the 
 original plaster, against which the Britishers 
 lazily leaned as they talked and proposed to fair 
 maidens, during Howe's occupation, all this Mrs. 
 Airy ran over in her quick mind, and she would 
 have this whole perverseness of Esther's turned 
 to advantage, making it appear one of the great 
 est successes which an ambitious woman might de- 
 '53
 
 sire. The house was renovated and furnished 
 suitably, in perfect accord with the place. No ex 
 pense was spared by the bride's mother, who owed 
 a heartache of envy to a certain woman, whom 
 she should surely invite, and so pay back. Mrs. 
 Airy's opportunity had now come, and Esther's 
 wilfulness had hastened it. 
 
 The wedding was one long remembered ; 
 the scene bright and many colored, yet strangely 
 simple. The young girls of Esther's acquaint 
 ance predominated, and there was a correspond 
 ing proportion of young, beaux. A sprinkling of 
 sailors, whom Esther had met in her work, were 
 there with their wives and children. Ai, the 
 bishop, performed the ceremony under the arch 
 in the hall, which was hung with smilax and 
 flowers. The sailors had formed beautiful de 
 signs of ropes and covered them with vines and 
 flowers. Impey was there, and after the ceremony 
 by the bishop, he read selections from " Idyls of 
 the King." Then followed a dance by the young 
 people, which was a scene of simple joy and in 
 nocent merriment. 
 
 The young girls were dressed in loose clinging 
 robes of inexpensive muslin ; with girdles decked 
 with smilax and roses ; some in the manner of 
 Greek maidens, others affecting the costumes of 
 colonial days. The youths wore knee-breeches 
 154
 
 with silk stockings, and had huge buckles on their 
 shoes. 
 
 The orchestra was a pleasing feature. Enid 
 Burr had acquaintance among the Italians of the 
 neighborhood, and had organized their musical 
 talent. A young girl of Imposing form was robed 
 in a flowing Roman robe, gathered loosely at the 
 neck, displaying a shapely dark-skinned arm. She 
 played upon a harp. Indeed, all the instruments 
 were of ancient Greek or Roman order. A few 
 girls had long slender pipes, as if at a procession 
 of the vestals. The orchestra was half concealed 
 behind a large harp which reached to the ceiling, 
 making the scene an enchanting one. The strings 
 of this harp were a contribution of ropes given by 
 the sailors, who decked them with clinging vines. 
 The old dances of colonial times were revived, 
 and the men from foreign climes had previously 
 been consulted as to quaint, simple dances of their 
 native lands, a few of which the children danced. 
 But especial effort was made to have realistic rep 
 resentations of their ancestors, and of the merry 
 times their great-grandmothers had with the gal 
 lant officers of the famous occupation. The bishop 
 could not be driven away and was one of the last 
 to leave the house. He loved to see the youth 
 revelling in their innocent delights, and moved 
 among them like one as young and light of heart
 
 as they. He encouraged their pranks, and talked 
 in gayest vein, even making merry with them ; 
 and the hours had no cares, and there was no sor 
 row in this world to him, only when the thought 
 would irresistibly force itself upon him, that it 
 could not be so forever with these young hearts. 
 One thing, however, was noticeable, he always 
 withdrew from the room when the dancing began. 
 This was not a protest, but his action was prompted 
 by a deep feeling which he one day disclosed. To 
 see these youths and maidens in their innocent 
 glee, suggested to him a scene Edenic in its purity, 
 and he felt unfit to look upon it, did not care to 
 disturb it, or in any way interfere with it by his 
 presence. This lightness of heart, this freedom 
 from care, this absence of rivalry and of envy, 
 all seemed to him so pure and so Edenic, that one 
 like himself, had no right to look upon and disturb 
 these uncontaminated, innocent spirits. And so 
 the bishop turned his face to the wall, or with 
 drew to the hall, or perhaps needed the fresh air 
 outside, when the young people began their dances. 
 He had, however, his ideas with regard to the 
 dancing of anyone above a certain age. It then 
 ceased to be an Eden. It rather became a season 
 of bitter rivalry, where stinging envy left its heart 
 aches, and vainglory was the ruling passion of the 
 hour. It ceased to be the simple joy of youth, 
 156
 
 but rather the crafty seeking after some hollow am 
 bition. Youth enjoyed the dances ; beyond youth 
 there was the enjoyment of social victories. The 
 bishop and Impey often talked of the matter/ and 
 they did not agree. Impey became gayer as the 
 streaks of gray appeared ; but then, the bishop 
 maintained, he was an exceptional soul ; it was 
 simply impossible for Impey to feel wickedly 
 envious, or to be actuated by pique, or to have any 
 vain or hollow ambitions. 
 
 " Did you ever notice," said the bishop to one 
 of the girls, " that the quadrille called the Polacca 
 is peculiar in this one respect, that it never is 
 danced to any other than one particular air ? It is 
 not so with other movements, there are many 
 pleasing airs to which they may be danced ; but 
 it would seem strange to hear a new air for the 
 Polacca." 
 
 Then one of the bright-cheeked girls of the 
 group remarked playfully, '-And did you ever 
 notice, Bishop, another peculiarity of the Polacca, 
 that it is an uncommonly warm dance." This 
 set all the group laughing and fanning themselves 
 vigorously, and then they all fanned the bishop, and 
 formed a circle from which he should not escape 
 them. 
 
 While this merriment was going on in the hall 
 way, there were little groups stationed at the front 
 157
 
 windows, listening to the yarns of the sailors of 
 the neighborhood, who had gathered on the porch 
 by invitation of the bride. Among them were a 
 few who had just come into port, and had come to 
 the house which had been their stopping place for 
 years. In recent times the old place had been a 
 sailors' hotel. These mariners just in port, were 
 surprised by the gay scene At the two windows 
 were being spun two thrilling yarns of sea-serpents 
 which the tars had actually seen. This fascinated 
 the young girls, and they crowded the windows to 
 hear these wonderful adventures. 
 
 They then brought to the simple-hearted men of 
 the sea, cake and cream, which courtesy drew from 
 them still more astonishing yarns. 
 
 The statistics of the engagements could not ac 
 curately be gathered ; but the fruits of the con 
 quests have since appeared. The idea of dwelling 
 in the homes of one's ancestors received a mighty 
 impetus, from the marriage and house-warming of 
 Esther Airy. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A REPORT OF WORK. 
 
 * High talk of noble deeds. Tennyson. 
 
 THE new tenements were completed, and Ai 
 158
 
 had the pleasure of seeing the families return to 
 their quarters. He made sure that the same peo 
 ple should come back. There were a few who 
 anticipated an increase of rents, but they were as 
 sured that the rents would be the same for the 
 same number of rooms, and this brought about the 
 desired result. There was not such a marked im 
 provement at first among the older people of fixed 
 habits, but the work among the young people 
 brought encouraging results. In the middle of the 
 new row of buildings was located an industrial 
 school, where the girls were taught the art of plain 
 housekeeping ; and this acted like a charm. 
 
 The girls made use of their knowledge in their 
 own homes, and quite a rivalry sprang up among 
 them. They invited their neighbors and exhibited 
 their tidy homes, and this provoked still more 
 emulation. Enid Burr had secured the interest 
 and co-operation of her lady friends, who gave 
 particular instruction in housekeeping. Each took 
 charge of the girls for only a month, and then was 
 followed by another, and so in turn by others ; 
 this gave a variety, and all phases of good house 
 keeping were brought out. There was nothing 
 stilted in this method, and professional perfunc- 
 toriness was avoided. But Mrs. Burr maintained 
 that it did the ladies as much good as the girls. 
 They thought they were imparting knowledge; 
 159
 
 but they themselves were growing warm-hearted 
 and sympathetic, and receiving an insight into the 
 condition of the other half. This lectureship, as 
 she called it, was the wisest stroke she had yet 
 made. Gradually, however, the fruits of the new 
 departure began to appear. The workingmen had 
 cleaner homes, free from vermin, and more restful 
 nights. The day depends largely upon the night 
 you have had. 
 
 In the morning, the men arose refreshed, and 
 after a warm, well-cooked breakfast, which the 
 girls took especial pride in preparing, they left 
 their homes, humming the latest street tune. The 
 contractors saw the change ; the men did better 
 work, requiring less oversight, and so they could 
 raise low wages, which they did. But better 
 wages would not answer if the men spent the in 
 crease in rum. 
 
 This the bishop made plain to them in his practi 
 cal talks at the reading room. Rum was a leak, and 
 the fullest barrel would empty itself in time. This 
 the average man saw and acknowledged, but went 
 on drinking nevertheless, so the bishop saw the 
 necessity of something else to meet the situation. 
 These men. must not be exposed to temptation. 
 One day he had a visit from a legislator, and he 
 saw his opportunity. He took his friend by the 
 arm, and walked him through the narrow streets, 
 1 60
 
 and showed him the condition of things. " Listen 
 to that quarrel, that is rum. See that neglected 
 child, that is rum. See that scanty furniture, 
 that is rum. See that broken-down constitution, 
 that is ruin." The legislator sighed and once 
 quietly muttered, "And I voted for the sale of 
 this." Ai saw the leaven was at work, and then 
 took his man into other courts and by-ways, and 
 pointed out the saloons on every corner and the 
 kettles going and coming. The legislator stopped 
 and made a note in his book. 
 
 While this was going on, the learned bishop of 
 Roundtop was busy at home in his luxurious study, 
 polishing off the sentences of his sermon on the 
 evils of strong drink. The selfsatisfied congrega 
 tion said it was ably delivered, and then went 
 home to their wine-dinners. But here was a bishop 
 who knew that a great deal of the evil of this 
 world existed because of the ignorance of men. 
 The prophet of old said, " My people do not con 
 sider.' 1 '' They must be made to consider. And 
 therefore the bishop took his friend for a walk, if 
 possible, to make him consider. It is useless, he 
 thought, to appeal to these poor men through the 
 reason ; they will agree to all you say, and then 
 continue in their evil ways. We must remove 
 temptation, and treat this evil as we would any 
 
 other evil, pernicious to society. The cholera, in 
 ii 161
 
 its most virulent form, is not such a menace to 
 society, as are intoxicating liquors. And the 
 proper way to begin is to apply legislation ; back 
 of that Ai saw the necessity of stimulating the in 
 telligence of the legislator. An appeal to reason 
 is almost fruitless. Men drink because opportunity 
 is offered. They have not even the incentive of a 
 liking for it. They evidence their distaste by their 
 grimaces, and then go on and drink for the sake 
 of the good fellowship. They are taken in the 
 net of opportunity ; and therefore the bishop 
 sought to remove the sources of temptation. At 
 the same time he set up a counter action in the 
 home life, and tried in various ways to make 
 pleasant the surroundings of the poor man. The 
 new tenements attracted considerable attention, 
 and he had arranged for the erection of another 
 block in a neglected portion of the city. 
 
 In the meantime the rector of St. John's had had 
 his alterations made, and was finding himself over 
 run with boys and girls, who became interested in 
 the readings on social science and the art of living 
 humanely together. He had contracted for a gymna 
 sium to be erected on the corner of the vacant lot 
 in front of the church. 
 
 Impey was also hard at work, and had attracted 
 to himself a goodly company of men, who could 
 not accept the old interpretations, and the various 
 162
 
 and conflicting creeds; and who sought a freer 
 atmosphere, and a basis upon which to stand, 
 which most of them thought, was that of right 
 conduct. Impey was puzzled by those men who 
 glibly said their prayers and left their gas bills un 
 paid. Those devotees were enigmas, who bent 
 the knee under gothic arches, and at the same 
 time had men in their pay who legally were squeez 
 ing hearts' blood into their cup of joy. He sought 
 to widen the platform of ethical conduct, and 
 thought it the basis upon which a happy society 
 must meet. And opportunities for helpfulness 
 were coming to Esther in profusion. Her house 
 had been a stopping place for sailors for a genera 
 tion" past, and they had not learned of the change 
 of tenants, so they came as usual. Esther had fur 
 nished the front room in a plain and substantial 
 manner, that the men might not .feel ill at ease on 
 account of its daintiness, and had placed there 
 plenty of writing material, and a few books, charts, 
 ' and maps. Upon a small table was constantly 
 served a lunch. This was for the free use of the 
 sailors, and she encouraged them to use it. 
 
 It afforded her an excellent opportunity to be 
 come acquainted with these interesting men and 
 their daring lives, and she embraced it. She was 
 in communication with a house close by, where 
 they could be lodged and boarded. She had her 
 163
 
 veranda open out from the room through spacious 
 windows, where the men delighted to congre 
 gate ; for these men of the sea loved the open 
 air" and confinement seemed oppressive. It was 
 on this veranda that she often took counsel with 
 them. They told her that it was almost impos 
 sible to have a sailor's wrongs redressed, and they 
 could speak to her freely on that veranda, as 
 they could not to a professional righter of wrongs. 
 They could not get a hearing, that was the dif 
 ficulty. As a rule they were in a foreign land, 
 among strangers, 1 no one cared for them, and he 
 fights a lonely fight who fights alone. They 
 could not speak the language, frequently ; and 
 this was another difficulty. Then came the mat 
 ter of money ; sailors had little of that ; and he 
 who contends for his rights empty-handed will 
 come out a disappointed man. " We cannot pay 
 the price of your justice," said a tar to her one 
 day. Justice was a matter that must be bought, 
 it appeared to him. " You have so much money 
 and you get so much justice ; you have no money, 
 and you get no justice. It is like buying a coat, 
 it is long or short according to the. price you pay." 
 But the law's delays, the postponements, the re- 
 ferrings, the reports, the arguments, the reargti- 
 ments, and then the decision held under advise 
 ment, it made these men of the sea, sick. Fre- 
 164
 
 quently they could not sail because the case was 
 pending. A pending case, that weird inhuman 
 something from which have sprung, how many ? 
 insanities in the world. To rovers on the wide 
 waters, the beautiful firmament above and the 
 pure breezes, the most generous of nature's gifts 
 this wading through the slush of the courts, with 
 their narrowness, contractedness, and obstructive 
 methods, was all so stifling and little, that they 
 rather suffered wrongs than sought redress. But 
 they could talk to Esther. "You do not ask 
 us for a retainer before we begin, and after we are 
 well under sail you do not demand a refresher," 
 one said to her. Their wrongs were poured into 
 her- ears, and after careful sifting, intelligent legis 
 lation was brought about to make these wrongs 
 impossible. She was the champion of the sail 
 or , the man who fights storms, plows waters, 
 dares darkness, and defies cold, all this, that 
 you may see the wonders of travel, may secure 
 your luxuries from foreign lands and may lull 
 yourself to sleep in the amenities. These bronzed 
 men were interesting to her and she was as proud 
 of the awkward shake of the rough horny hand 
 that made hers ache, as she was of that of the* 
 most gallant of beaux. And so it was understood 
 that all former occupants of those rooms must still 
 come there, and she had her daily receptions. 
 165
 
 The men told her of the various national sailors' 
 costumes, and she varied her dress to appeal to 
 these national feelings. 
 
 One day she looked into the matter of sailors' 
 lodgings. They were filthy and overrun with 
 vermin. She took counsel with the bishop. 
 "They have a church, I understand, especially- 
 built for them, to care for their souls ; it were time 
 to reverence their bodies," remarked the prelate. 
 One evening he slipped into the church at Swan- 
 son and Catharine Streets, and sat by the door. 
 Some one came to him, shook him cordially by 
 hand, asked him whether he had just gotten into 
 port, and invited him to come farther front. No, 
 he would rather sit where he was, near the door 
 where he could get the air. He counted the gas 
 jets, the number of sittings, and took the dimen 
 sions of the empty spaces, and surveyed the dec 
 orations on the walls. "Nearly all wasted, gas, 
 speech, and all," he said to himself as he slipped 
 out of the door. " Even if the sailors were there, 
 their chief concern seems to be with their souls, 
 while it would seern they needed aid to keep to 
 gether, and pure, their poor bodies." This he 
 said as he walked to the other side of the street, to 
 get an outside view of the church, and to make a 
 mental calculation of how many bricks it might 
 contain. As he walked away with his hands 
 166
 
 folded behind his back, he said, " Well might we 
 hold out the promise of a rest hereafter to men who 
 arewave-tossed, and have so little of quiet here, if 
 their quarters on ship and the beds I have seen are 
 a fair sample. This is a mockery and a big farce. 
 I will tear it down and will reconstruct." And he 
 kept his word. Esther and Enid laid their plans 
 and submitted them for approval. He said, " Go 
 on and do it in your own way ; you are on the 
 ground and know its needs; don't fear that I 
 will obstruct enterprise and quench enthusiasm ; 
 do not wait for formal approvals. I have approved 
 inaction and stagnation long enough, and nothing 
 that you may do can possibly be worse than that." 
 This was refreshingly stimulating to these two en 
 ergetic and original spirits, and they entered upon 
 their work with a breeze. They originated the 
 Woman's Auxiliary of the Churchman's Mission 
 ary Association for Seamen. 
 
 The church was torn to the ground, all but the 
 north gable, which remains to this day, a curious 
 and impressive monument illustrating the .old 
 method of holding out comfort to these toilers of 
 the sea, as compared with the more enlightened 
 plans of saving men. A plain hotel was erected 
 on the site. This house occupies only half of the 
 church space, concealing and utilizing only half 
 of this north chancel gable, leaving the other half 
 167
 
 exposed, showing the frescoes and decorations of 
 the old wall. 
 
 The sailors had often turned from the dull wrds 
 of the preacher to the wall, and studied these col 
 ors and designs, for diversion during the dreary, 
 cold hour. Those decorations have now been 
 given to the rain and to the winds, but the storm- 
 beaten mariner sits cozily by a warm fire in his 
 hotel or sleeps comfortably in his clean bed. This 
 gives him a new vision of the brotherhood of man. 
 The care of their souls goes on just as before, but 
 the sailor does not now look with scornful suspi 
 cion upon anyone who seems to be interested in his 
 eternal welfare. Simultaneously with the build 
 ing of the home, there was erected a church not 
 far away. It is a great deal smaller than the old 
 one, and there is couched close to it a reading 
 room and various other rooms for fostering the so 
 cial life of these interesting men of the sea. 
 168
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 A DAY OFF. 
 
 We can only have the highest happiness, such as goes along with 
 being a great man, by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for the 
 rest of the world as well as ourselves: and this sort of happiness 
 often brings so much pain with it, that we can only tell it from pain 
 by its being what we would choose before everything else, because our 
 souls see it is good. Romola. 
 
 THE capacity of the bishop for work was simply 
 marvelous, and it was well it was so. Monday 
 was his day off, when he wrote no letters and did 
 no -routine work, but was always at home to re 
 ceive visitors, no matter what the object of the 
 visit. The first caller on one such day was Impey. 
 He had made a collection of precepts and maxims 
 which he thought would make a new gospel, 
 suitable to be added to the four, should the pre 
 lates at anytime be willing to listen to a ne\v 
 statement of some very old truths. This collec 
 tion was a curious one, gathered from the Koran 
 and from the writings of Confucius and Gaudama. 
 There were a few, especially fine, he thought, 
 from Benjamin Franklin, several from Tennyson, 
 one from Whittier, three from Carlyle, and a 
 harvest from the philosophers who saw visions at 
 169
 
 Concord. Why should it be thought incredi 
 ble that men should some day naturally desire a 
 Bible with a supplement. There are better things 
 lying around outside, thought Impey, than some 
 things inside. The bishop looked over the collec 
 tion and thoughtfully gazed into the fire, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 Impey of course would not press him for an 
 opinion, but when he arose to go, with the manu 
 script in his pocket, the bishop asked him to leave 
 it, he would like to look at it more carefully at 
 his leisure. 
 
 As Impey passed out, the young rector of St. 
 John's was just coming in with beaming face. The 
 lectures on plain every-day justice and the social 
 questions of the present day, were a success, and 
 the rooms were filled every night. These same 
 people came to church as well. They now viewed 
 religion in a new light, and worthy of their atten 
 tion. They regarded the special services in the 
 church as a part of a system for the dissemination 
 of truth which was many-sided, and no seeker 
 after truth could neglect those sermons. Hitherto 
 they avoided church, because they thought it all 
 so narrow and one-sided, but now a new vision had 
 been given them. They started with a few hard 
 facts of this life, and this dispelled the notion that 
 the hereafter only was worthy of their considera- 
 170
 
 tion. This was the new view taken ; and there 
 was a roundness and common sense about it all 
 that seemed to appeal to the every-day men of af 
 fairs. They had struck human nature in the right 
 spot, when they built those rooms and the gymna 
 sium, the young rector maintained ; and he went 
 away overjoyed and enthusiastic. The bishop 
 called him back and gave him a note to several 
 vestrymen, who were contemplating selling and 
 moving west after their people, as faithful shep 
 herds should. "Go and speak to them and tell 
 them of your plans ; there is nothing like living 
 fire. Kindle the dry wood ; and my blessing go 
 with you." He then tapped him on the shoulder, 
 and" sent away that young lined face, wreathed in 
 smiles. 
 
 Then came Mrs. Airy, who did not seem to 
 have any particular business, simply wanted to say 
 good morning, and leave her blessing for the 
 tired and busy man. She, however, had her little 
 pleasantry, which was to the effect that she got 
 even with her husband the other night. That 
 New Century Club house was a beauty and a suc 
 cess. She came home from the club the other 
 night, quite late, and met her husband in the hall, 
 both in their street wraps.' 
 
 " Where have you been, my dear husband ? " 
 171
 
 " At the club. And where might you have been 
 so late, dearest? " 
 
 "At the club ! " 
 
 The bishop thought it good, and laughed like a 
 boy ; and complimented the taste of the artist who 
 designed those pictures on the wall ; they were 
 very suggestive, he thought, and indicative of the 
 lofty and pure aims of this association of noble and 
 high-minded women. There was a volume in 
 those representations of Science, Art, and Labor, , 
 bringing their contributions to the world's ad 
 vancement. He would like to belong to that club. 
 Mrs. Airy looked at the prelate archly, and shook 
 her finger. 
 
 "And Bishop, I wish to enter my little protest 
 against the doings of Mr. Impey. He has in 
 duced my daughter to help him in his work, 
 and is, I fear, having a great deal of influ 
 ence over her. She reads on Monday evenings to 
 a room full of boys; and the motto on their ban 
 ner reads, " The world is my country ; to do good 
 is my religion," an invention of Impey's, no 
 doubt. I don't believe there is such a verse in 
 the Bible ; I never saw it." 
 
 Ai shook with uncontrollable laughter ; and 
 then said a good word for Impey. He asked how 
 the young couple were getting on in their new 
 172
 
 home, and added a few pleasant words as Mrs. 
 Airy swept out of the room. 
 
 The man who sometimes acted as his secretary, 
 next claimed his attention. Ai's capacity for work 
 has already been alluded to. He expected others 
 to work as well. 
 
 " I want you," said he, " to draw up for me 
 a report of the parochial schools of the diocese, 
 the number of pupils, the nature of instruction 
 given, the progress attained, and a comparison 
 with the municipal schools, with such other facts 
 as may seem useful ; and you will kindly bring 
 me the report this evening" 
 
 The man was stupefied, and looked pleadingly 
 up into the face of the bishop. There were fully 
 one hundred schools with perhaps ten thousand 
 pupils, scattered over a wide area. Seeing his em 
 barrassment, Ai added, "Well, I ask perhaps too 
 much ; bring me the report to-morrow." 
 
 There were two others waiting to see the bishop. 
 
 Esther had a piece of good news. A poor sailor's 
 
 wrongs had been redressed. The case had been 
 
 pending for two years, but a victorious decision 
 
 had just been handed down. It had cost Esther 
 
 and her friends a pretty penny, but they thought it 
 
 was the triumph of a just cause that must be looked 
 
 at. The poor man, it is true, had died in the 
 
 meantime, but justice had been done. 
 
 173
 
 " How long did you say it had been pencl- ' 
 ing?" 
 
 "Two years. He made twenty voyages in the 
 meantime ; looked after the case every time he 
 came into port ; and died at sea, without learn 
 ing that justice had been done him." 
 
 " How many cases have you had ? " asked Ai. 
 
 " This is the only one." 
 
 "Then do not undertake another. Your sweet 
 unshaken faith is priceless. Don't take risks at a 
 game where you may lose." 
 
 Esther looked a little dubious, and left with a 
 thought running through her mind. 
 
 Then came a man with a grievance, a tale of a 
 church quarrel. Ai's heart sank within him. 
 Nothing saddened him so much as this sinning of 
 persons of otherwise blameless lives, who join 
 church quarrels, which enlist the fiercest passions, 
 and arm for wordy warfare men and women who 
 in their daily ways are quiet, peaceable, and 
 kind. The desecration of sacred interests is noth 
 ing compared with the question of victory. 
 
 "My good man," said Ai, "in patience and 
 meekness will be your strength. We must not con 
 tend. We must make church quarrels unpopular, 
 and brand as unworthy all who engage in them. 
 The world is becoming kinder, and 'less bitter 
 174
 
 and church quarrels are not a part of the king 
 dom of good-will." 
 
 So Ai would counsel, and would even go to 
 those who were mostly aggrieved, and would pour 
 oil upon the troubled waters. He never had any 
 outbreak or any public settlement of petty spites, 
 as he said he found these quarrels invariably to 
 be. 
 
 Following was a gentleman whom he did not 
 know, but who introduced himself as Mr. Midas, 
 and was at once recognized as a prosperous mer 
 chant. He wanted the bishop's advice with re 
 gard to an outing and dinner he proposed giving 
 to the poor on Labor Day. He had heard the 
 district was largely tenanted by the poor. The 
 bishop looked him over as he told of his plans, 
 and made a mental note of his man. He stirred 
 the fire, and then sat down on the other side, 
 and encouraged the man to speak. He was a 
 talkative person, and went on without stopping, 
 and Ai was a good listener. The bishop then went 
 over and closed the window, and had a view of 
 the back of his head, and then sat down. But he 
 soon got up again, and stood with his back to the 
 fire and got a full view of the man's face. This 
 man was not a subject for office treatment, and 
 needed skillful management. These slums were 
 moral pestholes, Mr. Midas believed, and it re- 
 175
 
 quired a good deal of courage to live here, he 
 thought, and the bishop deserved credit for his 
 pains in trying to elevate the degraded poor ; but 
 he thought it almost useless, and a thankless work.. 
 They were of no benefit to anybody, and he be 
 lieved in letting the matter take its course, and in 
 allowing the weaklings to die out. Still, he was 
 willing to contribute his share to any philanthropy, 
 and he had come to sec about that very thing, and 
 wanted the bishop's suggestions as to the Labor 
 Day airing and the feast. It must do them a little 
 good, anyway. 
 
 The bishop opened the window again, and then 
 asked Midas whether he had ever seen the neigh 
 borhood, perhaps he would like to walk out. 
 They walked out arm in arm and had some diffi 
 culty in keeping together ; the crowds were filling 
 the pavements on their way home from work. 
 "These streets seem to need drainage," said the 
 merchant as he leaped a pool. They turned into 
 a narrow street and witnessed a quarrel between 
 two teamsters who had come in from opposite direc 
 tions ; the street being only wide enough for one 
 wagon. It served also as a drain and was very 
 filthy. One of the teamsters nodded to the mer 
 chant ; he had driven that way to get a lunch and 
 also to deliver a package. He lived there. As 
 they passed up the street they saw the teamster's 
 176
 
 door, and noticed a thin woman with a babe that 
 seemed sick. They were the teamster's wife and 
 child. There was a pool of soapy water before 
 the door and a small boy was fishing in it. At 
 the corner they met a pale girl with refined 
 features who boarded in the street, and as she 
 passed she bowed to the merchant. Farther down 
 they turned into a similar narrow street and the 
 merchant bowed to two men who sat on their door 
 steps, and who were neatly clad like business-men. 
 They had just gotten home and seemed surprised 
 to see the merchant. Through an open door he 
 saw a little girl who came to the door with a 
 pitcher, and then went back again and told the 
 mother, who also came to the door to see the 
 bishop and the man. As they passed out of the 
 street they looked, back and saw a row of heads 
 protruding from the windows and doors, gazing in 
 wonder at the two men. Turning into a little 
 court they saw an elderly woman, with gray, well- 
 kept hair and neat dress, who was opening a door 
 with a latch key. 
 
 The merchant bowed and the woman smiled. 
 Just then an awkward man with black hands came 
 along and let himself in at the next door but one. 
 He also seemed to know the merchant. Ai 
 thought he knew the neighborhood well, but 
 12 177
 
 the merchant seemed to know everybody too ; 
 and he began to think about the matter. 
 
 "Have these people lived here long, these to 
 whom I have spoken, I mean ? " 
 
 "As long as I have been here," replied Ai. 
 " You seern to recognize some of them." 
 
 "Yes," replied the merchant confusedly. 
 
 "They are all poor people," continued Ai, 
 " working at miserably low wages, and trying in 
 all sorts of ways to eke out a living. They crowd 
 into small houses to meet the rents, and take 
 boarders to make up the loss coming through sick 
 bread-winners. The children who ought to be at 
 school, are cash-girls and errand-boys; and the 
 aged go out regularly to toil, long past the time 
 when work should cease and a pension begin." 
 "They seem to be quite respectable too ; their 
 door-knobs are bright and windows clean," said 
 the merchant. 
 
 "Yes," answered Ai, " you will be surprised to 
 see the respectability that you will find in some of 
 these streets. 
 
 "In a court within a court, lives a refined man 
 with his lovely wife and child, who are trying to 
 keep clean there, and find it hard indeed, but they 
 cannot better themselves with the low wages he is 
 receiving. They keep up a respectable appear 
 ance as to dress, for business purposes, but it makes 
 178
 
 my heart ache to see them wade those gutters to 
 their home. The struggles of the respectable poor, 
 in the midst of such surroundings, is one of the 
 pathetic things in life. There are some who love 
 dirt and seem to be born to it ; but the tragedies 
 of life are seen in these refined and sensitive souls 
 who are crowded to the wall and move into such 
 quarters, who yet cling to some thread of hope, 
 and are marked by their dress, some bright door 
 knob, or curtained window, close by the pool of 
 filth, and neighbors to the coarsest of human kind. 
 There is a strong belief among them that there 
 will come a day of judgment ; and to. me there 
 seems a fitness in the thought. Some one will be 
 called to account for this state of things, and there 
 will be an evening up some day. So these poor 
 people think, and it gives them hope." 
 
 " But you do not believe in an equal distribu 
 tion of wealth, do you?" timidly asked the mer 
 chant. 
 
 "It is scarcely necessary to go so far in 
 our consideration," replied Ai. 
 
 "These people are capable of making a very 
 little go a great way, that is evident ; but when 
 they lack that little, there is a great injustice 
 somewhere ; they ought at least have the neces 
 saries of life, not to speak of luxuries." The tail 
 merchant looked thoughtfully down upon the little 
 179
 
 man. "You see here," continued Ai, " the pil 
 lars of our commercial and industrial world, the 
 men who build our railroads, manufacture goods 
 and sell them ; in fact every useful work is sup 
 ported and upheld by these little props which find 
 their base deep down in these wretched streets and 
 courts. We ought to see to it that it is solid 
 ground and not mud into which these props are 
 sunk." 
 
 They then went through a few more streets and 
 courts on their way back to the bishop's house. 
 "There are plenty of poor, you see, who will no 
 doubt be glad for the outing, and when you get 
 ready, send the tickets to me and I will distribute 
 them." 
 
 The merchant fingered a paper-cutter nervously, 
 and said he had not yet completed all the arrange 
 ments, and he would come and see the bishop 
 again about it ; and then arose to go. On the way 
 out they went through a room which had just been 
 enlarged. Here the bishop taught boys the first 
 use of simple tools. With the help of these boys 
 he had made most of the simple furniture of his 
 room. " It is a great thing to have boys learn 
 trades ; and it is sometimes a little thing that turns 
 a boy from a life of vagabondage to a trade, that 
 will yield him a livelihood. Many a young man 
 hails me from a scaffold or roof, who learned to 
 180
 
 drive his first nail in this room. Such matters are 
 worth our attention. We must learn to hit the nail 
 on the head every time," roguishly added the bishop. 
 They had reached the corner of the street, to which 
 the bishop had accompanied the merchant, when 
 Midas turned, and laying his hand on the little 
 bishop's shoulder, paused for a time, and then 
 slowly said, " You have hit the nail squarely this 
 time." The bishop knew what lie had aimed at 
 when he first met this man, and he saw that he 
 had accomplished his object. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 A DAY OF JUDGMENT. 
 
 The age is dull and mean. Men creep, 
 Not walk ; with blood too pale and tame 
 To pay the debt they owe to shame ; 
 Buy cheap, sell dear ; eat, drink, and sleep, 
 Down pillowed, deaf to moaning want ; 
 Pay tithes for soul-insurance ; keep 
 Six days to Mammon, one to Cant. 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 THE next morning Midas the merchant was early 
 at his place of business. The clerks soon began 
 to arrive, and he stood by the door where a man 
 checked them off as they passed in. Almost the 
 first to arrive were two women who had been seen 
 181
 
 in the narrow street, the old woman with fine gray 
 hair and the girl with refined features. Then fol 
 lowed a number of people whose names the mer 
 chant did not know, nor where they lived. His 
 time-keeper, however, knew. Then came another 
 group, and the little girl who had carried a pitcher 
 was recognized ; she was one of the cash-girls. 
 There were a number of cash-girls ; they all looked 
 alike, all had the same pinched features, and he 
 wondered whether they came from similar streets. 
 Then a few men clerks were checked off, and two 
 of them had been seen the evening before at their 
 doors. These men all seemed to have one marked 
 appearance, an indefinable look of disappointment 
 and quiet submissiveness to a crushing fate. Where 
 did these men live; did they all come from simi 
 lar streets and houses? Still they came ; and the 
 merchant had a thoughtful look as he stood chained 
 to the spot, closely scanning each face, and mak 
 ing his mental notes. He saw the last girl checked 
 off and then asked how many were employed, all 
 told. There were just one hundred. 
 
 He took his morning paper and went to his cozy 
 office in the rear, which opened out upon a bright 
 little grass plot, which he took pride in keeping 
 closely clipped with a sharp mower. It gave him 
 exercise and he loved to cut it clean and close. 
 He seemed to apply to the yard the same princi- 
 182
 
 pies he carried out in his business. He looked 
 out, but felt nervous, and turned his chair and 
 leaned both elbows on his desk. 
 
 The words of the bishop were troubling him. 
 He thought of these props and pillars, and saw 
 how they were sunk in mud. He had seen one 
 hundred persons file past him, not one of whom 
 could be spared, anyone of whom could cause dis 
 turbance and shake the whole house should he be 
 absent or fail in his duty. The woman with gray 
 hair had held up the millinery department for 
 twenty years ; and he had made a little fortune 
 from that department alone. One of those men 
 had served ten years, the best years of his life ; 
 and he could not be spared, even should he de 
 mand twice the sum he was getting. Then he 
 thought of the mud in which these props were 
 resting. He wondered whether it was sound busi 
 ness policy to pinch the workers, when they might 
 do better work if they were more easy in their cir 
 cumstances. He went over the whole ground of 
 business follies that were daily enacted. He 
 acted wisely with his horses, which were kept 
 fat and strong that- they might do better work. 
 Finer teams than his could not be seen on the 
 street ; and he took especial pride in outdoing the 
 firm across the way, whose poorly fed animals 
 looked over at his with pitiful horse envy, as the 
 183
 
 wagons were being loaded. Then he thought of 
 the pinched faces of the cash-girls, and of the 
 uncomplaining clerks in their threadbare dress. 
 His brain was on fire, and he walked out and 
 sat in a red arm-chair, and looked at the closely 
 cropped grass-plot. " That is just what I am 
 doing," thought he. He had cropped every man, 
 woman, and child, down to the lowest point ; 
 and they were driven to their wretched streets. 
 These pillars were sunk in mud, and he was 
 building up for himself a fortune, high above 
 these foundations. 
 
 Just then a young girl wished to see the head 
 of the firm. He saw her, and then returned to 
 his seat. That girl might have been hired for 
 wages lower than he was paying. It was neces 
 sity that forced her to sell so cheaply. That 
 was just it ; he took advantage of men's necessi 
 ties, and thoughts of righteous dealing never en 
 tered into his business code. The ship was on 
 fire, and sinking, why not take their all, which 
 the wretched beings were willing to give, if he 
 should float alongside and rescue them. Not a 
 thought of humanity prompted him to take a sin 
 gle man on board unless he gave all, as in his ne 
 cessity he would do. 
 
 Then he thought of the outing, and he laughed 
 bitterly at the thought. "I practice injustice all 
 184
 
 the year round, and then try to wipe out the score 
 by an excursion or a Christmas turkey," he mut 
 tered as he folded his hands and turned his face 
 thoughtfully toward the fish-pond. He saw him 
 self reflected in the water, and he immediately 
 turned his chair. He then went into the office 
 and got the books. The addresses were all the 
 same little streets of which he had never heard. 
 
 A few were on principal streets, but in boarding- 
 houses, he knew, packed to the roof, where strict 
 economy was a ruling necessity. He then ran 
 down the list of names these pillars of his busi 
 ness ; he had made a fortune, and by no other 
 way than by resting on these props. Every man 
 had as much brain as he had, and many exercised 
 more energy than he did. There were one hun 
 dred and one the clerk had made a mistake. 
 The man who cropped the grass close noticed a 
 mistake. He then recollected that one had died, 
 and that made one hundred. The clerk was after 
 all worthy of his business respect. 
 
 Then he went into the accounts. 
 
 How much did the house clear above all ex 
 penses, absolutely clear for his purse? 
 
 Seventy-five dollars a day ; this was the average 
 for three years back. He then closed his eyes fcr 
 a long time, and seemed to be asleep. 
 
 He arose and walked the floor. He resolved to 
 185
 
 reserve twenty-five dollars a day for himself, and 
 to distribute the remaining fifty dollars, every day, 
 evenly, among one hundred people the people 
 who brought him this income. He had intended 
 to spend fifty dollars upon a feast for one hundred 
 persons ; but why not do this every day, he 
 thought ; and why not give it to the persons them 
 selves, and let each one spend it in his own way. 
 There was no question as to his ability ; the books 
 and his investments showed that. He was able 
 and he was also willing. He would have one 
 grand daily distribution all the year round. It 
 would be one continuous Christmas cheer all the 
 year through. He walked into the garden in an 
 exalted state of mind. He saw a happy beaming 
 face reflected in the pond; and sat down and 
 cried with nervous excitement. 
 
 Then he stopped suddenly, and thought for a 
 moment whether this was not folly, whether it was 
 not unbusiness-like. These people had not asked 
 it ; they were willing ; he forced nobody ; they 
 rather were obliged to him for giving them posi 
 tions. Were his resolves based upon a sound com 
 mercial policy, and did anyone else do it? 
 
 He ran over in his mind the rows of business 
 houses ; but in none of them was this thing done ; 
 and his resolves for a daily distribution of fifty 
 186
 
 dollars to one hundred persons, who brought him 
 this gain, were knocked out of his brain. 
 
 As he sat down in his red chair, he again saw 
 his likeness in the smooth surface of the pond ; 
 he then arraigned himself before himself. That 
 was the man in his private lite ; here sat the busi 
 ness man in this red chair. The private man was 
 kind, upright, just, a model father, and a sup 
 porter of religion and charities. The business 
 man took more than he needed. The business 
 man took advantage of men's necessities. The 
 business man kept the earnings of others. The 
 business man subscribed to charities and paid them 
 out of these withheld earnings. The business 
 man knew nothing of the condition of the props 
 of his business. Here was a man with two 
 moralities one for private life and one for busi 
 ness purposes. But he noticed that when he 
 moved in his chair the man in the pond moved 
 also. The little fishes in the pond seemed to 
 touch the man in his private life, and the turtle 
 was creeping under his long beard. It gave him 
 an unpleasant sensation. Possibly after all they 
 were one and the same person. Possibly he was 
 playing a part. Was it when at home, or was it 
 while at business ? Which was the actor and 
 which was the real man ? When was he his own, 
 true, and highest self? He buried his face in his 
 187
 
 hands and tried to turn his chair, .but he seemed 
 petrified and found himself again looking into the 
 pond. The bishop was right ; there would come 
 a day of judgment ; perhaps it had already come 
 to him. 
 
 Then he thought of the cheer the feast would 
 give to the families of the poor ; and close follow 
 ing came the vision of a perennial feast ; and he 
 again saw the reflection of a happy face. 
 
 He then went into another calculation. One 
 hundred times fifty cents a day would amount to a 
 goodly sum in a few years. He might endow a 
 bed in a home, or even build a whole asylum. 
 Would not that be commendable ? If he saved 
 this fifty cents which the girl had not asked, he 
 could do this charitable deed. " But," said he, 
 as he caught in the water the look of a serious 
 face, " If I give the little girl her fifty cents now, 
 she Avill not become a magdalen. If I give now, 
 I need not do so hereafter ; and then also there 
 will be the saving of womanhood." But the busi 
 ness aspect of the matter obtruded itself most per 
 sistently. No one else did it, he thought ; and 
 how would it be viewed by the common sense of 
 the business world ? This thought pinned him to 
 his chair, a shrivelled object of pitiful misery. 
 Here was a strange psychological subject, a man 
 who was willing to give the difference between 
 1 88
 
 twenty-five and seventy-five dollars every day to 
 his business props, but who dreaded to have his 
 friends know it. This dread was not born of 
 modesty, nor of humility, but of a proud fear of 
 being thought unbusiness-like. He fell, from 
 sheer exhaustion, into a deep sleep, how long he 
 knew not ; and when he arose he saw the blood 
 shot eyes and pale face of a sick man. 
 
 He arose and went to the bishop. Ai was not 
 in his room, he was in the Church ; and Midas 
 went there, and found him after service, still 
 robed in his purple cassock, with the silver cord, 
 from which the diamonds had been taken. 
 
 The afternoon sun, shining through the stained 
 window, made unusually clear the picture of the 
 Nazarene, bearing a heavy cross; and in this 
 light they talked earnestly and long. When they 
 left the Church, the bishop was heard to say, " We 
 ought to be generous, but we must bejttsf. Gen 
 erosity cannot take the place of justice. Justice is 
 what this great hungry world is aching for ; and 
 when the simple lesson of justice has been learned, 
 there will be no necessity for that which now 
 passes for generosity." 
 
 At the end of the week, Midas ordered that each 
 
 of the one hundred employees should have an 
 
 extra fifty cents per day put into the envelope ; 
 
 and this conscientious business man for a long 
 
 189
 
 time went through little by-streets to and from his 
 business, and crept into his office by a back door, 
 afraid of meeting the business kings of the city. 
 He, however, lived his own quiet life of just do 
 ing. He had intended to build a church in 
 memory of a departed one ; but Ai said he would 
 rather see fifty houses erected on a side street, now 
 covered with rookeries; these homes should become 
 the sources of sweet and helpful influences toward 
 a rational, sane, and just living. 
 
 The politicians said, look after the primaries. 
 The homes, Ai said, were the primaries which all 
 good citizens must look after if there was to be a 
 pure and high order of society. Within twenty-four 
 hours, Enid Burr was at work drawing plans for 
 fifty tenements. 
 
 190
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 READ. 
 
 What do you read, my lord ? 
 
 Words, words, words ! Shakespeare. 
 
 i. Panatipataweramanisikkhapadangsamadiyatni. 
 
 2. Adinnadanaweramanisikkhapadangsamadiya- 
 
 mi. 
 
 3. Abrahmachariyaweramanisikkhapadangsamad- 
 iyami. 
 
 4. Musavvadaweramanisikkhapadangsamadiyami. 
 
 5. Suramerayamajjapamadatthanaweramanisikkh- 
 apadangsamadiyami. 
 
 6. Wikalabhojanaweramanisikkhapadangsamadi- 
 yarni. 
 
 7. Nachagita\vaditawisukadassana\veramanisikkh- 
 
 apadangsamadiyami . 
 8. Malagandhawilepanadharanamandanawibhusa- 
 
 nattanaweramanisikkhapadangsamadiyami. 
 
 9. Uch'hasayanamahasayanaweramanisikkhapad- 
 angsamadiyami. 
 
 10. Jataruparajatapatiggahanawerarnanisikkhapa- 
 dangsamadiyami. 
 
 191
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 A CONCEPTION OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 God sends His teachers unto every age, to every clime, and every 
 race of men, with revelations fitted to their growth and shape of mind, 
 nor gives the realm of Truth into the selfish rule of one sole race ; 
 therefore each form of worship that hath swayed the life of man, and 
 given it to grasp the master key of knowledge, reverence, infolds 
 some germs of goodness and of right. Lowell. 
 
 WHILE Esther was devoting herself to the inter 
 ests of the sailor, and Enid was drawing plans for 
 the tenements, and Ai was bringing men of different 
 planes into sympathetic relations, it seemed to be 
 the work of Impey to make men see that truth is 
 many-sided, and that the little rills flow from many 
 and opposite mountain-sides, and joining, form one 
 broad river of truth. " Do not try to sail on the 
 little rill," he said to his lady patrons as they 
 waited. Impey's work grew daily more into pop 
 ular favor, no one made shoes like Impey, and 
 no one talked like him. The Reviews were regu 
 larly read, and their contents given freely, in a di 
 gested form, to all who applied ; and the room at 
 number 3 Chancery Lane was always crowded 
 about the tenth day of the month. 
 
 His work at the church he had purchased be 
 came a force in the community. He opened a 
 kindergarten for very small children, and a read- 
 192
 
 ing room to compete with the 'drinking saloons of 
 the neighborhood. In the evening he met various 
 classes, who pursued different lines of study. 
 Adaptation to the wants of the times was a ruling 
 idea, and it colored all his methods of work. 
 There were men of noble impulses who found lit 
 tle to attract in the prevailing forms of religion,, 
 and in the creeds as commonly interpreted. These 
 forces, he thought, ought to be gathered ; and so 
 he hung out on a board, one day, the following 
 statement : 
 
 A purer, higher form of Christian 
 ity is needed, such as will approve it 
 self to men of profound thinking and 
 feeling, as the real spring and most 
 efficacious instrument of moral eleva 
 tion, moral power, and disinterested 
 love. 
 
 This attracted wide attention, and there gathered 
 a representative class of men college professors, 
 physicians, writers, scientists, and a thoughtful 
 class of working men. They had long ago ceased 
 going to the churches, because of the unreasona 
 ble things they heard, and because there was a to 
 tal lack of scientific treatment of the most inter 
 esting subject that commanded the attention of 
 thoughtful men ; namely, the morals of the world. 
 Here they seemed to see a platform wide enough 
 !3 193
 
 to meet upon, where they would be permitted to 
 investigate Christianity. There was a higher form 
 of Christianity, which would imply that there was 
 also a lower. Impey called this lower form, a 
 Christianity with accretions ; and he tried to find 
 which was pure, and which was alloy among the 
 metals. His mind was free and open, not antag 
 onistic to any truth, but receptive, and willing to 
 take in light, no matter from what source. One 
 day he pasted upon the board these ten command 
 ments. 
 
 And as you are a person of considerable learn 
 ing, you will please turn back to the twenty-third 
 chapter and follow in the original : 
 
 1. Thou shalt not kill. 
 
 2. Thou shalt not steal. 
 
 3. Thou shalt not commit adultery. 
 
 4. Thou shalt not lie. 
 
 5. Thou shalt not be drunken. 
 
 6. Thou shalt not eat to excess. 
 
 7. Thou shalt not be frivolous. 
 .8. Thou shalt not be vain. 
 
 9. Thou shalt not vaunt thyself. 
 10. Thou shalt not be avaricious. 
 
 Come and let us consider these 
 teachings of BUDDHA, and see what 
 truths they contain that will aid us to 
 live a life of true justice. 
 194
 
 The effect was marvellous. The church was 
 filled, and Impey spoke on these four points : 
 
 1. In these teachings of Buddha, you are disillu 
 
 sioned of the thought that any one religion 
 has a monopoly of truth. 
 
 2. In these teachings of Buddha, you have a very 
 
 old religion. It existed at least six hundred 
 years before Jesus was born. Thirty genera 
 tions lived and died in this light. Where are 
 they ? 
 
 3. While nine of these commandments of Buddha 
 
 are reflected in Christianity, and undoubtedly 
 shaped it ; the fifth commandment marks 
 .Buddhism as the superior of the two religions. 
 Christianity undoubtedly approves of the use 
 of intoxicating liquors. 
 
 4. We must seek the truth and let it shape our con 
 
 duct, no matter from what source it comes. 
 For one month Buddhism became the ruling 
 idea. Those who did not know Impey, said the 
 church was converted into a Buddhist temple, and 
 that Impey was a Buddhist priest. They visited 
 his room, where they were informed that Buddhism 
 never had priests, every man was his own priest. 
 There was an order of monks, which was simply a 
 class who adopted these rules of life, especially the 
 last five. The first five were for general observ 
 ance. 
 
 195
 
 The effect was good. It broadened the narrow- 
 minded. They saw that high moral teaching came 
 from some very unexpected sources. 
 
 The next month he covered the teachings of 
 Buddha with these words : 
 
 Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
 Blessed are the forlorn. 
 Blessed are the meek. 
 Blessed are they which seek the right. 
 Blessed are the merciful. 
 Blessed are the pure-hearted. 
 Blessed are the peace-makers. 
 Blessed are the misunderstood. 
 Blessed are the reviled. 
 
 This brought out still greater numbers. Some 
 thought it an expansion of Buddhism. 
 
 "No," said Impey, " this is the teaching of Jesus, 
 in my estimation a very much-forgotten man. 
 
 "The Christian religion is quite old, and con 
 tains many truths. No doubt you have also heard 
 many things attributed to Jesus which he never 
 taught, base slanders, propagated to-day by mis 
 taken persons in their zeal, which is not accord 
 ing to knowledge. We must separate the accre 
 tions from the real teachings of the man. You 
 will know the truth by its reasonableness. I have 
 an idea that his enemies made him say and do, in 
 books, many things, merely to bring him into re- 
 196
 
 proach, and to make this lovely character appear 
 unlovely and unreasonable. I believe it was an 
 enemy, for instance, who would have it appear 
 that he encouraged the use of intoxicating liquors. 
 I believe Jesus was as high-minded as Buddha in 
 that respect, and that he would not suffer himself 
 to lose by camparison with Buddha. 
 
 " We must rescue this much slandered name, and 
 his religion, and not suffer them to be held in con 
 tempt by thoughtful men. Many of you have 
 turned away from Christian teaching, simply be 
 cause you have been misinformed. It is one of 
 the great religions of the world, and is worthy of 
 your most careful consideration. 
 
 '.' Let us get to the bottom of this matter, and see 
 who this Jesus really was, and what he taught. I 
 believe if Jesus were to appear to-day, he would 
 drive from their pulpits, with a whip, many who 
 teach in his name. Some he would excuse be 
 cause of their youth, they never having really 
 thought, but merely with good intentions, followed 
 in well-trodden paths, because conventional." 
 
 This forever cleared up the question whether or 
 not Impey was on the side of Christianity. It was 
 the accretions which he rejected. It was the pure 
 teaching of Jesus which he upheld. It was the 
 caricaturing of this man, by professed followers, 
 in their daily practice, that saddened his heart. 
 197
 
 The next month he pasted over everything, 
 these seven planks of a platform upon which many 
 could perhaps unite : 
 
 1. The Fatherhood of God, who is 
 the most uplifting life of all things. 
 
 2. The brotherhood of man, for 
 sympathy and service. 
 
 3. The ceaseless development and 
 advance of the human race by strug 
 gle and possession, sorrow and joy, 
 death and life. 
 
 4. The establishment of the king 
 dom of heaven everywhere upon earth. 
 
 5. The unreserved recognition of 
 the secular world as containing all 
 sacred things. 
 
 6. The unceasing inspiration of man 
 by God. 
 
 7. The constant communion of 
 kindred spirits in and between the un 
 seen and the seen. 
 
 Let us assimilate what is reasonable, 
 and then climb to other heights. 
 And thus, Impey maintained, he let in the light. 
 He sought to let out the light as well, by welcom 
 ing to his pulpit anyone who had a message, each 
 man to be his own judge of the truth. Such an 
 array of educators, scientists, authors, and experts 
 198
 
 in various walks of life, have rarely been heard, 
 except in Impey's church. One day he invited a 
 noted Ritualist to deliver his truth. " Would you 
 let me speak," asked the man in surprise, " would 
 you let me teach anything I wish ? " 
 
 " Anything you wish ; and you may convert all 
 of them if you can. If you have truth on your 
 lips it ought to prevail, this is what we are seek 
 ing ; if it is error, it will sink to the bottom and 
 will be lost, as it ought." 
 
 He established active agencies for the changing 
 of conditions. One of his most favorite activities 
 was to aid and promote emigration from the 
 crowded city to the unoccupied lands of the west 
 ern states. He was constantly sending boys and 
 girls to homes in the country, through the Chil 
 dren's Aid Society, which Mrs. Airy had brought 
 to his notice, and which he ardently supported. 
 But how did Impey's Church succeed ? Did it 
 grow? To those who were looking for some 
 strong, dense organization to spring up and pack 
 itself around its central head, he used to say, 
 "The cool and sparkling spring gives out its 
 waters, and grows no larger by its liberality of a 
 hundred years ; but the pool which receives and 
 never gives, becomes broad and deep, but also 
 foul and rotten." 
 
 Nothing pleased him so much as to see men 
 199
 
 drink of these waters, and then go out and enliven 
 the churches, and the homes, and the communities. 
 ' ' This is a well of water springing up and mak 
 ing everlasting life," he said. In Impey's church 
 lay the secret that has for half a century been un 
 dermining superstition, sectarian narrowness, 
 theological cant, and churchly inertia. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 THE ANCIENT LANDMARKS. 
 
 Remove not the ancient landmarks which thy fathers have set. 
 Proverbs. 
 
 THERE was one thing that gave the bishop more 
 trouble, and caused him more vexation of spirit, 
 than all his other responsibilities combined. It 
 was what he was pleased to term, the deflections 
 of the churches. One day he quietly slipped into 
 Old Union Church, so quaintly nestled among the 
 business houses on Fourth Street, where it has 
 been doing its peculiar work for a long term of 
 years. It came near a deflection, but the bishop 
 saved it. It was at the close of one of the noon 
 day services, that a business meeting of the con 
 gregation was called, and the question of removal 
 discussed. An Electrical Supply Company had
 
 offered a tempting sum for the place, and the ques 
 tion of a removal to the North-west, where the 
 people had gone, was contemplated. A stranger 
 got up and spoke earnestly, but not long. He 
 pictured the masses of the poor living around the 
 Church, in the courts and alleys, and then closed 
 with a graphic description of these dead masses 
 who needed electrifying to turn them into bright 
 lights and useful powers in the life of the commu 
 nity ; but the force must be generated here at Old 
 Union. 
 
 As he ceased speaking, old men turned around 
 and eyed the stranger with suspicion, but all were 
 won by his enthusiasm and convinced by his logic. 
 No one knew this man, but his words were needed 
 and they prevailed. The stranger disappeared as 
 mysteriously as he had come, and Old Union 
 Church remained. There was nothing official 
 about the matter, only the interest of a member 
 of society, who loved to see all forces at work, 
 aiding in their own way, the general advance 
 ment of the world. 
 
 It was also about that time that the Church of 
 the Covenant on Filbert Street, had an offer from 
 an express company for its edifice. The com 
 pany's horses needed stabling, and the church 
 seemed a convenient place, so a handsome offer 
 was made to these men, who, many years before, 
 201
 
 had formed a solemn covenant, and had conse 
 crated this building to high uses. That also 
 nearly proved a deflection. The bishop, how 
 ever, came upon the scene. He had a little roll 
 in his pocket, which he termed a plan of attack, 
 and a change of base. He spread it upon a lit 
 tle table and explained. The building he divided 
 into several stories. On the upper story he had 
 two rows of little rooms arranged along a centre 
 passage-way. Some of these rooms were no larger 
 than a horse's stall, and would serve as meeting 
 places for boys. They must be encouraged to 
 unite on some common point of interest. A few 
 rooms were for the use of girls who might 
 want to organize for self-improvement. "These 
 organizations need not necessarily be large in 
 numbers," he said, " only four or five persons 
 perhaps. Let them have an aim. Let this be a 
 centre from which shall flow influences into the 
 world, helpful and elevating. Do not be afraid of 
 failure. As one little circle has done its work, 
 let it disband, and let its members unite with some 
 other circle in a common interest. This indicates 
 growth and development. Make war upon stagna 
 tion. Let nothing fossilize. You will still need a 
 church for preaching, but it will be a great deal 
 smaller than in the past. We will still love talk 
 and oratory, but the social forces will shape and
 
 mould, while oratory and talk will entertain and 
 amuse. Do not obliterate your sanctuary, but 
 pass through it, to, and from, your active work." 
 
 In some such way the bishop reasoned and per 
 suaded, and his counsel prevailed again. The 
 little rooms were built and the place soon teemed 
 with life. Boys and girls organized and took pos 
 session ; and there were generated there forces 
 which now go out and help along the common 
 uplifting of the social fabric. 
 
 There came one day to the old place a man who 
 had there received his first ennobling impressions 
 as a boy. He had drifted to California when a 
 young man and had made a fortune, and now re 
 turned to spend that fortune among the youth 
 around the Covenant. He endowed an industrial 
 school, and gives the riches of his personal service 
 in its furtherance. 
 
 The little ragamuffins who formerly lounged in 
 the shadows of the railroad arches, and were led 
 into evil ways, have now a place of refuge for 
 the training of their powers ; and so the world is 
 the richer for this resolve to abide by the covenant 
 so solemnly made. 
 
 The signs of deflections came in formidable 
 numbers. The requirements of trade came to 
 Old Scots' Church, and demanded that sanctuary. 
 203
 
 The bishop hung out his transparency a few even 
 ings, and soon crowded the rooms. 
 
 He then invited Mrs. Airy to come and see the 
 work. The noises were deafening, and this had 
 its desired effect. Mrs. Airy spread the news 
 among her friends, and an organization of helpers 
 was the result. Ai then left it in their hands and 
 devoted himself to other work. Trade next made 
 an inroad upon the church at Eleventh and Wood 
 Streets. The bishop again hung out his trans 
 parency, and soon had the rooms crowded with 
 boys and girls. " But they are only children," 
 said a wise looking official. 
 
 " They will be men some day; give them a 
 chance," was the bishop's reply. 
 
 " But they bring you no gold," said another. 
 
 " No one brought gold to the Nazarene that I 
 know of, and yet he went on," was the answer. 
 
 It grieved him to think that his activities were 
 not for an advance or aggrandizement, but mainly 
 to prevent retreat. 
 
 Occasionally, however, even after the most care 
 ful vigilance, some church did retreat without 
 his notice. The Clay Mission felt the hoofs of the 
 horses before he was aware of it. Some one gave 
 as an excuse, 'that the Church was not adapted to 
 such work. "Then have printed on a board, 
 'This is a church for the ninety and nine just 
 204
 
 persons who need no repentance,' " was his reply. 
 One day he clipped the following advertisement 
 from his paper : "A one story building, can be 
 used for chapel, market-house,, or stable. Tasker, 
 above 2oth." Those were versatile days. To the 
 faint-hearted he would say, " Look at St. Joseph's ; 
 look at St. Mary's, filled with the poor who are 
 now more dense in the neighborhood than in the 
 days when only one family lived in each spacious 
 house. The church has not ceased to be for all 
 sorts and conditions of men." 
 
 And thus the old centres of activity were re 
 tained by the shedding of his heart's blood. He 
 fought persistently and bravely three enemies 
 stagnation, an unwillingness to change the base of 
 operations, and a love for the gilded pot in prefer 
 ence to the expanding and growing oak in it. He 
 conquered the tendencies of the times toward 
 empty fashion and material gain. He made plain 
 the meaning of pastor, which is one who feeds, 
 not one constantly looking to be fed. " The 
 shepherd," said he, " is one who has a crook, and 
 seems to be devoid of a mouth." 
 205
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 AT HOME. 
 
 This is life to come. 
 
 Which martyred men have made more glorious 
 
 For us who strive to follow. George Eliot. 
 
 " WILLIAM, will you, before you go out, call up 
 Keneseth Israel, and St. Stephen's; and William, 
 you may also call up the little church across the 
 way, St. Stephen's may be a little belated, and 
 the sermon at the little church can be wedged in." 
 
 Mrs. Airy preferred staying at home; she would 
 toast her feet, and for diversion listen to the tele 
 phone. She arrayed herself in her pale pink 
 gown and sank into her wicker chair, the ribbons 
 of which she had changed to pale pink. She was 
 exquisite in her taste, and her friend Enid should 
 notice' this, should she come in as she had prom 
 ised. She wished to hear what the rector of St. 
 Stephen's had to say about the next step in Chris 
 tianity, and so had the telephone placed close to 
 her chair before a cheerful fire. As she shifted 
 her feet on the fender, she noticed a hole 
 in her pink stocking. She tried to read, but did 
 not get far into the story, when Enid came in. 
 Enid wanted to know where Mrs. Airy got her 
 206
 
 stockings ; thought the ribbons on the chair 
 matched her dress nicely, and regarded her a par 
 agon of taste. They both went to the telephone. 
 The discourse at the Keneseth Israel was as usual, 
 thoughtful and sympathetic, and touched a living 
 question of the age. The preacher spoke of Jesus 
 as the highest style of man, and Mrs. Airy, who 
 had gotten the tubes mixed, thought she was list 
 ening to the son of her old pastor, under whom 
 she had been indoctrinated in the strictest conven 
 tional orthodoxy. 
 
 When the prayers in Hebrew began, Mrs. Airy 
 broke the connection. She thought that if the 
 time consumed in praying to God, were spent by 
 the clergy in beseeching men to do their duty in 
 life, its ills would find more prompt amelioration. 
 She also wanted to know what language had to do 
 with it anyhow, in speaking to God. Prayer, she 
 thought, was much like making love. The Choc- 
 taw chief looks into the soulful eyes of the Japan 
 ese maiden, and if he finds favor, they understand 
 each other soon and well enough. The language 
 of love is the same all the world round, and always 
 loses by wording it. 
 
 It was not yet time for the discourse at St. 
 Stephen's, so they discussed the little nothings al 
 ways new to women. Enid had taken off her 
 shoes and was also toasting her feet on the fender. 
 207
 
 Twice they listened, but the organ had not yet 
 ceased. Their feet had not yet been blistered, so 
 they put them up again, and Enid thought Mrs. 
 Airy a marvel for matching things, even the skin 
 which shone through that little rent was pink, 
 could scarcely be seen, in fact, so much was it like 
 the color of her stocking. 
 
 They might, perhaps, catch the gist of what was 
 being said in the little church across the way, 
 while St. Stephen's was getting ready. This 
 preacher across the way was always brief and to 
 the point ; generally condensed his thoughts into 
 about half the time the more thoughtless clergy 
 took. The preacher across the way >vas very 
 kindly regarded by his regular congregation, and 
 his church phone was coming into general demand. 
 Impey said, that preacher did not drive into his 
 pulpit a cow and a wagon full of hay, but gave 
 the condensed cream in a compass small enough 
 for the vest pocket. That was the kind of preacher 
 busy men and thoughtful people demanded. 
 
 The preacher across the way told his people that 
 he had nothing to say this morning. He had been 
 away on a vacation and had just come home, and had 
 not gotten down to work, and he did not pretend 
 that he had anything to say when he had not. He 
 would not'say anything of his own composing, but 
 would read a selection from Emerson, a parable 
 208
 
 reported to have been spoken by Jesus, and a story 
 by Hans Christian Andersen. There was a thread 
 of related thought running through these selec 
 tions, which the congregation would more perfectly 
 see on reading them at their leisure. The two 
 women had some difficulty in hearing, so they 
 found the selections and read them. They marked 
 them, and in the evening read them to the chil 
 dren at bedtime. The children usually went to 
 sleep in church, but they were delighted with the 
 parable and the stories from Andersen, and they 
 wanted more, and would not go to sleep without 
 just one more. They got it, and it left a sanctify 
 ing impression upon their minds, such as children 
 ought to carry with them when they enter the 
 land bordering on annihilation. 
 
 The pulpit at St. Stephen's this morning, was well- 
 regulated, cool and systematic. There were three 
 stages through which Christianity had passed, the 
 doctrinal, the ecclesiastical, and the experimental ; 
 and now the next step would be one that would 
 find its expression in conduct. The question will 
 not be, what is your creed, what the visible 
 form of the organization, or how do you feel; but 
 what is the life? And the circle of Christianity 
 will be so widened as to include these persons of 
 right conduct, who to-day form so large a portion 
 of the unchurched. 
 
 14 209
 
 There was a stir heard in the congregation. 
 Mrs. Burr said she heard the rustle of silk, as they 
 fidgeted, and even thought she detected the color, 
 it was not garnet and not exactly olive. A 
 spirited discussion followed, concerning this mat 
 ter of detecting by telephone the color of silk. The 
 whole was treated by Mrs. Airy as a Munchausen 
 tale. 
 
 "By the way," said Enid, turning the conver 
 sation, " did you hear of Judge Rue's resigna 
 tion? This is the fourth time he has resigned. 
 He says the laws are execrable and need revising." 
 
 At this juncture, Mr. Airy came in, and sur 
 prised the ladies in their stockings. He appeared 
 not to notice, and said the bright morning had 
 brought out the flowers and the most bewitching of 
 costumes. The church seemed to be a conserva 
 tory. The ladies of the new family near the pul 
 pit had on the most remarkable silks, which he 
 could not describe. 
 
 "There, I told you so," Enid said, indulging 
 in gleeful laughter. 
 
 The ladies then told of their discussion, and 
 appealed to Mr. Airy. 
 
 Burr, whom Airy had asked home, was brought 
 
 in, and he explained the scientific phenomenon 
 
 of detecting the color of silk by telephone. 
 
 "Science," said he, "is making great strides. 
 
 210
 
 The blind can tell colors by touch, but they can 
 also be detected by the ear. Color is a property 
 affected by texture; as for instance, a finely 
 woven basket looks different from one with larger 
 meshes. A finely woven piece of goods, differs in 
 appearance from one more loosely woven. Hence 
 the blind can feel color. But these different text 
 ures also give forth different sounds ; as for in 
 stance, a fine violin string and a thick one give 
 forth different sounds. Let fall a plank and a 
 splinter, and the sound is different. But as al 
 ready said, this difference in texture affects color, 
 thus enabling the blind to detect color by touch 
 and also by the ear, and hence by telephone." 
 
 As Burr made these statements, he stood before 
 . a window looking out upon the lawn, with his 
 back turned squarely to the company and both his 
 hands in his pockets. They looked at one an 
 other, and Airy thought he saw the back of the 
 scientist's ears turn very red. It was a victory 
 for Mrs. Burr, who laughed merrily, and Mrs. 
 Airy was satisfied with this lucid scientific state 
 ment. The next evening Mrs. Airy was astonish 
 ing a few gentlemen by a talk on the wonderful 
 discoveries of science. She told them of the 
 philosophy of detecting the colors of silk by tele 
 phone, and the gentlemen thought her a paragon 
 of information. 
 
 211
 
 The Burrs remained to dinner. Mr. Airy 
 thought Judge Rue's resignation was the promise 
 of something wholesome in the way of just laws. 
 He had been elected four times and had sat about 
 four weeks, or a week after each election, when he 
 was called upon to enter sentences so unjust that 
 his righteous soul revolted. He deferred sentence 
 and then resigned, and devoted himself to legisla 
 tion in favor of more rational and just laws. 
 
 Burr then gave an account of a case which he 
 had witnessed. It was an equity case, in which 
 their orators prayed that property be virtually at 
 tached until an accounting be made. Here Judge 
 Rue asked them if they had any proof of missing 
 moneys. They had none, but they would proba 
 bly find proof in the accounting. 
 
 "So you wish to project a suit, hoping that 
 something may develop to justify you ? " 
 
 The judge then handed the papers back, saying, 
 that the days of harassing a man for base ends 
 were over in this court. Up to that day, any man 
 with a purse could file a bill in equity, without the 
 slightest ground, and could put a defendant to 
 great expense and an unlimited amount of an 
 noyance, and by an adroit wording of the bill 
 practically attached the defendant's property. If 
 he was a rival builder, it was perhaps his secret 
 design, to embarrass his rival's property, that he
 
 might sell his own. After this sharp business 
 practice, the petition was withdrawn or if non 
 suited, it was of little consequence for him to pay 
 costs, as he had done a fine stroke of business. He 
 had beaten a rival builder. There was no redress 
 for such injustice, and it was done every day to 
 annoy an enemy or harass a rival. The judge had 
 one such case, and his cheeks burned with shame 
 and indignation. He resigned and went to the 
 legislature, and had the equity laws brought into 
 some decent condition. If a man now brought a 
 suit, he was obliged to furnish proof before a grand 
 jury, much as in any criminal case. 
 
 "Make your claim and submit your proof in ad 
 vance," was the judge's advice. " I have no time 
 to help you carry on your petty business schemes 
 by the strong arm of the law." 
 
 Mrs. Airy here congratulated Mrs. Burr on the 
 new acquisition. A young journalist had won 
 one of the fairest of the fashionable circle, and 
 the bride had selected one of the colonial houses 
 as her future home. Journalism, however, had 
 been given up for the present, and he was devot 
 ing himself to the editing of school-books. His 
 soul was tried by the many things he was obliged 
 to do to make his paper piquant, to compete with 
 the rest. After giving his copy to the printers, he 
 usually went home and slept a troubled sleep, and 
 213
 
 in the morning blushed to read his own paper. 
 He never let his wife read it, and could not feel 
 conscious of doing an elevating work, and yet it 
 was just as clean as he could make it, and escape 
 loss, on account of competition. 
 
 "I shall never forget," said Mrs. Airy, "the 
 way he arraigned the press last summer. We were 
 stopping in a little village where there was a town 
 pump, in the middle of a square, to which nearly 
 the whole village resorted. Benches were placed 
 under the willows, and it was a meeting place for 
 women, where gossip was indulged in, and slanders 
 and unclean tales were exchanged. 
 
 " We found the faces of these simple rustics a 
 study, and their dress was very quaint, so we spent 
 a great deal of time under the willows, near the 
 town pump. Mr. Poe listened to their personal 
 gossip, and said the daily paper took the place of 
 the town pump, and he was really ashamed of his 
 profession. Three old women made themselves 
 the depositories of indecent tales, and then re 
 peated them in all their revolting details. That, 
 thought Poe, was just what the press did, only on 
 a larger scale, and in a systematic, and business 
 like manner. 
 
 " He looked upon this hawking about of inde 
 cencies at so- much a tale, as a singular work, into 
 which some excellent persons had unwittingly been 
 214
 
 betrayed. He had given up a good position on 
 account of his inability to resign his conscience to 
 the situation. He has a charming young wife, and 
 no doubt she will greatly add to the social life of 
 the young people, who are drifting into the older 
 quarter of the city." 
 
 " But there is one man you will not get yet," 
 remarked Mr. Airy. 
 
 " Who might that be ? " asked Mrs. Burr. 
 
 "That merchant, a Mr. Midas, I believe, whom 
 the bishop got to build those tenements. He says 
 he will give of his means, and will continue to pay 
 the working people liberally, a kind of profit- 
 sharing which he has adopted ; but he cannot 
 go so far as to live among the poor and do per 
 sonal work. The bishop, they say, told him that 
 it might be his chief duty to remain where he was, 
 and regenerate the consciences of his friends in 
 business circles. This matter of a social regener 
 ation was a going down, but also a-going up ; it 
 worked both ways, and it were time, said the 
 bishop, that the fact be recognized. He thinks 
 that if Mr. Midas stays where he is, and walks 
 justly, it may require the highest kind of courage." 
 
 " That bishop seems to have a clear conception 
 of how the regeneration is to be brought about," 
 added Burr, " and I agree with him, that the com 
 ing hero will be the man who can tell the (ruth to 
 215
 
 the rich, and the test of his greatness will be his 
 ability to make wealth do its duty, as well as pov 
 erty. This going up into the slums, seems to be, 
 as yet, virgin soil." 
 
 " That bishop," added Mrs. Airy, " is really a 
 genius. He has gone down, and now works up 
 ward, and really makes some people ashamed of 
 themselves. He has the consummate art of mak 
 ing Mr. Midas feel that the poor people in his em 
 ploy are the props upon which his business rests, 
 that they have more brain and energy than he has, 
 and that hence they ought to receive an equitable 
 share of these earnings. The bishop has given to 
 the rich old man a new vision of commercial 
 ethics." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ANOTHER DAY OFF. 
 
 Ring out the darkness of the land. 
 Ring in the Christ that is to be. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THERE was one comfort in which Ai indulged. 
 His rugs rivalled those of an Oriental prince in 
 profusion and luxuriousness. There was nothing 
 
 so restful as a couch of a few layers of soft rugs, on 
 216
 
 the floor before the fireplace ; and it was here that 
 he spent many hours in reading. He had just 
 gotten interested in Hypatia, on one of his Mon 
 days off, when a negro announced himself, whom 
 he at once recognized as the rector of St. 
 Thomas's, on Fifth Street. Ai was especially glad 
 to see him, as he wished to confer with regard to 
 the matter of trades for negro boys. During this 
 conversation, the rector seemed diffident and some 
 what absent-minded ; his thoughts ran in a differ 
 ent direction, and Ai humored him and tried to 
 draw him out. There was a hesitancy in his 
 speech, but he finally made plain the object of his 
 visit. They contemplated a removal of the Church, 
 somewhere, a little farther west. A business firm 
 had made a handsome offer for the site. 
 
 The bishop's heart beat high. 
 
 "But I understand," said he, " that the negro 
 population is increasing rather than diminishing in 
 the neighborhood." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I also understand that their standard of mor 
 ality is not the highest." 
 
 " There is plenty to do." 
 . " What, then, is the difficulty ? " 
 
 " The trustees thought the Church would succeed 
 better farther west, in a better neighborhood." 
 "There is no absolute hindrance in the way of 
 217
 
 support ; only a support to keep up a certain style 
 is wanted. There is also no question as to attend 
 ance, only as to attendance of a certain style. 
 There is also no question concerning a large popu 
 lation which needs elevating, and which demands 
 perhaps readjustment and adaptation." 
 
 These words were uttered as if he were summing 
 up a case in court. He then gave his decision, 
 and St. Thomas's remained. 
 
 " You say the site was wanted for business pur 
 poses ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, a- good offer was made for it." 
 
 "Ah, that is the old story over again. Where 
 religion fails, business succeeds. Suppose we 
 throw into our activities as much energy, as much 
 common sense, as business men do into their 
 affairs, and see how we will succeed." 
 
 The rector seemed to see the light, and determ 
 ined to take a new lease of church life. The bishop 
 gave him a promise of aid in various ways, and 
 mapped out a plan of operations. 
 
 "Above all," added he, "let us revise our 
 standards of success." 
 
 As the man passed out, the rector of the As 
 cension came in. There was, the bishop thought, 
 the same diffidence, the same hesitancy and nerv 
 ousness that marked the other man, and his heart 
 sank within him. A smile, however, soon lighted 
 218
 
 up the bishop's face, as the rector placed a little 
 bag of gold on the table a liberal collection for 
 the desolate and oppressed. 
 
 . After he had gone, Ai returned to his rugs in a 
 pitiful state of exhaustion. Great drops of per 
 spiration stood on his brow, although the fire was 
 low and the room cold. What vexed him so was 
 the thought that so much of his toil was not in the 
 direction of aggressive work, but merely to pre 
 vent retreat. He felt the humiliation, such as a 
 great general would, who spent all his energies in 
 preventing his men from seeking trees. He rolled 
 on the rugs nervously, and tried by reading to 
 calm his agitated mind, but all to no purpose. 
 He -then put on his cloak and started out for a 
 walk. At the door he met Impey. The bright, 
 cheerful face was refreshment to his troubled 
 spirit, and he drew him in with both his extended 
 hands. Here there would be no proposal of a re 
 moval, he was sure. 
 
 Impey had a great deal to report. The boys and 
 girls crowded his rooms, and he had a difficulty in 
 getting helpers, to manage and utilize this material 
 out of which the future fabric of society should be 
 built. There was one thing these informal gather 
 ings of boys and girls for amusement did, they 
 afforded an opportunity to become acquainted with 
 the other half, and find out their needs. One 
 219
 
 could start these children right in many little 
 ways ; and the start is everything to the future 
 man. They both lay down on the floor, as they 
 frequently did when alone, but the bishop did not 
 seem to become interested in Impey's story. Ai 
 answered in incoherent monosyllables and seemed 
 absent-minded. In the middle of one of Impey's 
 sentences, Ai broke in " Now what would you 
 do if you were in my place, and could do as you 
 pleased ; the Church of St. Thomas proposes to 
 move?" 
 
 Impey thought for a moment, and then answer 
 ed in measured tones, " I cannot tell what I would 
 do, for I cannot imagine myself in your place. I 
 can only tell you what I will do in my own 
 place." 
 
 " What would you do? " 
 
 "Not, what would I do, but what will I do. 
 I will buy the Church, if for sale." 
 
 The perspiration again appeared on the brow of 
 the bishop. Here was a man not to be trifled 
 with, and he gave a dangerous advantage by giving 
 him the information that the Church might be 
 bought. He arose and paced the floor. He 
 opened the window and washed out the room with 
 a refreshing current of air. He then sat down in his 
 wicker chair. Impey had ceased talking, noticing 
 Ai's disinclination. Ai however, timidly returned
 
 to the subject of St. Thomas's, and tried to frame 
 a question which in his confusion was rather am 
 biguous. 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 " What would you do? " 
 
 "I, do?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " But you said you would." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Just now." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 "'Nothing." 
 
 " But you said you would." 
 
 They then halted for a time and looked each 
 other in the face, and after this pause, Impey re 
 covered himself and said : 
 
 " You mean what would I do if I bought it? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I would turn it into a Mohammedan mosque," 
 replied Impey. 
 
 The bishop turned in his chair. 
 
 " There is nothing that will save certain levels 
 of society," continued Impey, "but Islam; and 
 I would turn Mohammedan for the time being, 
 and emphasize the truth, that the sale of intoxi-
 
 eating drink among a people is a calamity, and I 
 would make uncompromising warfare upon drunk 
 enness. I would teach the doctrine of Islam, that 
 drunkenness is a crime. These people are cursed 
 with drink, and we must get at the root of the dis 
 ease. It is drink" that makes them poor, and then 
 because they are poor, they drink. They drink 
 and become incapables ; then in their poverty they 
 drink to drown their sorrows. As poverty presses, 
 they drink, and feel a momentary relief from anx 
 ious care, but this is followed by a reaction which 
 is met by fresh libations. It is drink that is filling 
 our gutters with the refuse of humankind. And 
 we must meet it by Islam, for Islam alone seems 
 capable of meeting the situation, except perhaps 
 Buddhism. Your compromising Christianity is 
 powerless. Its half-heartedness, if it is correctly 
 represented by its professed propagators, is abort 
 ive. Your religion says, ' Do not drink to excess; 
 do not make a beast of yourself, that would be 
 ungentlemanly, but you may tipple.' You might 
 as well talk of a moderate chastity. Drink is an 
 insidious evil with which you cannot toy ; and 
 Islam, with its positive, uncompromising teaching, 
 is the only religion that will save us from this curse. 
 Islam treats drunkenness as a crime, and \ve must 
 measure up to this standard of the prophet of the 
 one God. ' ' 
 
 222
 
 It was quite late when Impey left, and Ai could 
 not sleep. His brain was on fire. He knelt at 
 his priedieu, but said words which his intelligence 
 did not follow. He closed the book and tried to 
 collect his thoughts, his head resting on his folded 
 arms. He must have rested thus for a long time, 
 for when he awoke the taper had burned low in its 
 socket. He went to the alcove and tried to read? 
 but could not. Possibly Impey was right. There 
 was, perhaps, too much compromise, too much 
 half-hearted ness, too much tippling, as Impey said. 
 And was it Impey who should lead him to this 
 truth ? . Was it Islam that should prove the brighter 
 light to lighten their darkness, and was it the pan 
 acea for the ills of the besotted community ? But 
 what was to be done ? If the work should not go 
 on under his guidance, Impey would buy , and Islam 
 would take the crown from Christianity. The 
 thought made Ai's blood run cold. 
 
 He then resolved to save the Church, and reor 
 ganize the work. He would throw aside conven 
 tional plans and methods, and study closely the 
 needs of the people. If it was intemperance that 
 was dragging them down, a modified Mohammed 
 anism must be practised. He resolved to say 
 nothing about it, he would give it no name, but 
 an uncompromising war upon intoxicants must be 
 made to save this people from their besetting sin. 
 223
 
 He would have the Church reorganized on a total 
 abstinence basis. He would make this virtue of 
 Islam the ruling idea of the work. He would en 
 graft this twig of Islam upon the tree of Chris 
 tianity, and nurse it into fruit-bearing. In this se 
 cret resolve the bishop found relief, and his 
 troubled spirit became calm. He again lighted 
 the taper on the priedieu, and sought the soothing 
 influence of the prayers; and a strange radiance 
 crept over his face, as if a new ray had been added 
 to the light. 
 
 When he awoke in the morning, he found it al 
 most time for his devotions in Church, for which 
 he was already robed in his purple cassock, not 
 having divested himself of it, for he had fallen 
 into a deep sleep from sheer exhaustion of body 
 and brain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 A CONFESSIONAL. 
 
 No priest ordains it, yet they're forced to sit 
 Amid deep ashes of their vanished years. 
 
 Daniel Deronda. 
 
 AT the wedfling of Esther Airy there met two 
 young people whose fates were there sealed. The 
 224
 
 editor of the Daily Account had little leisure, his 
 arduous duties claiming his attention. When, 
 however, he claimed a night off and attended the 
 wedding, his die was cast. He thought he would 
 combine a little business with pleasure, and write 
 a column, paying special attention .to the antique 
 house and arouse an interest in these almost for 
 gotten landmarks. This proved a serious busi 
 ness. 
 
 There was present a cousin of Esther's, a school 
 mate, who had organized a few girls at Wellesley, 
 for personal service among the unfortunate, who 
 looked very pretty in her baby-blue Greenaway 
 gown ; and the young editor fell a victim to her 
 quaint beauty. They strolled into the spacious 
 hall, made a few common-place remarks about the 
 quaint carvings and arches, and then conversation 
 seemed to flag on account of the deeper interest 
 and feeling that agitated their minds. They were 
 missed first by one, then another, and it was 
 evident that the evening was an event to more 
 than the bridal pair. 
 
 The cousins arranged the matter, and it was 
 concluded that the new household should be set 
 up at 723 S. Front Street. This house was very 
 quaint, had a hip roof and other marks of antiquity. 
 There was a good deal of open space surrounding 
 it, and this allowed for spacious and restful 
 !5 225
 
 verandas on three sides. The old wood work was 
 preserved as much as possible, especially the fire 
 places and cupboards ; and with additions here 
 and there, it was made a cozy nest of quai illness. 
 Everything was painted white, the outside of the 
 house, the wide verandas, all except the roof, 
 which was red. The inside wood-work was also 
 white; the walls were white- washed, rendering the 
 house cheerful, sweet and healthful. Carpets were 
 discarded ; rugs here anfl there taking their places. 
 Quaint little shelves for books were constructed in 
 every corner and conceivable nook. There was 
 no library, but the books were scattered all over 
 the house, over the doorways, under windows, 
 behind doors, in stairways ; even outside on the 
 veranda there was a small rack which was filled 
 for public use. The neighbors were expected to 
 help themselves. A paper rack received all the 
 current magazines, "and the community was en 
 couraged to take them and pass them on. This 
 beautiful custom, of sharing with one's neighbors 
 the bright things of life, was fostered here by 
 these young people. Since then, there has been 
 less of storing away, in lofts and closets, the cur 
 rent magazines and papers ; and the public rack 
 on the veranda has served in making bright the 
 firesides of many homes. The neighborly feeling 
 grew ; and this more than anything else has served 
 226
 
 in spreading intelligence into all our social fabric. 
 The white house with its white veranda had a 
 peculiar appropriateness in sheltering this young 
 couple who tried to keep themselves pure. They 
 attracted to themselves a few choice souls, who 
 made an effort to lead an immaculate life in this 
 compromising world. The little circles which 
 gathered there on a summer's evening, told of their 
 peculiar difficulties in daily practice ; and this has 
 given it the name of The Confessional. 
 
 Business men, educators, doctors, workingmen, 
 editors, lawyers, all trades and professions had 
 their peculiar hindrances to a righteous straight- 
 walking ; and on this veranda the confessions were 
 madej frankly, in a simple straight-forward way, 
 and counsel was asked and given. 
 
 The editor of the Daily Account did not re 
 main editor of that sheet very long after he had 
 moved into this white house. In a corner behind 
 a door, stood a table, upon the table a glass case, 
 which was often pointed to, when John Poe told 
 the story of his peculiar difficulties in living 
 righteously in an editorial room. One evening 
 after Judge Rue had confessed his deflections, Poe 
 told his story. 
 
 "There," said he, "lies the story. Come, 
 look at it. I had long been possessed with the 
 thought of purifying the press. I took courage 
 227
 
 one day after reading several scathing comments 
 on the immorality of the press, by several noted 
 preachers. I conceived the idea of publishing t\vo 
 editions of the paper ; one containing everything, 
 a history of crimes, scandals, hangings and all, and 
 to be distinctly marked as the Indecent Edition ; 
 the other was to omit scandals, crimes, and the 
 prurient details of law proceedings, and was to be 
 made up especially for family reading, and marked 
 as the Decent Edition. Both were sent out for 
 sale, and the public could take their choice." 
 
 " How did you succeed with the novel arrange 
 ment? " asked the Judge. 
 
 Poe sighed and rested his head on his hand, and 
 after a pause said, " A recent Decent Edition was 
 left on our hands, and the Indecent Edition was 
 all sold. I put the Decent Edition under glass, as 
 a specimen of the clean reading which the public 
 does not want. Come and look at it. It was a 
 very small edition too, but even that is i early all 
 here. I took the trouble to examine the regular 
 list of subscribers, and the clean people took the 
 Indecent Edition, and there was only one of the 
 clergy who ordered a change, and that was the 
 bishop. The preachers who administered the 
 scathing rebukes, deploring the condition of our 
 press, all took the Indecent Edition ; the subscrip 
 tion list showed that. I gave it a fair trial. The 
 228
 
 novelty sold the first few issues, but the subsequent 
 numbers were unsold. Yet the difference between 
 the two was slight. The indecencies omitted, did 
 not cover more than half a column a day ; the 
 rest of the paper was exactly the same ; but the 
 public wanted the indecencies, and the edition that 
 had them was sold. I tried to make the Indecent 
 Edition as clean as possible, but there was a sharp 
 competition between the papers, and the publisher 
 told me we must not lose our circulation, but must 
 give the public what it wants. The matter ran on 
 thus for a long time. I was daily handling this 
 filth that was dumped on my desk. I pared down, 
 culled out, omitted here, and smoothed there. 
 My efforts, however, were met by daily visits of 
 the proprietor, who said that the details were the 
 juice of the matter, and to make it piquant I must 
 not make it too bald ; other papers would be 
 bought for the details, and we must compete. 
 
 "One day he commented on the report of a 
 hanging, which was not, he said, as full as the 
 other papers had it. On comparing the accounts, 
 they were found exactly alike in all details, with 
 the exception of the statement, which I had struck 
 out, that the culprit's tongue hung out, and that it 
 was of a dark purple color. Nothing escaped his 
 eye, and the thought was a constant torture to me 
 while doing my work.
 
 i( But the matter came to a crisis on the occasion 
 of a fight between two noted pugilists. The Daily 
 Account had a scathing, full length editorial on 
 the day preceding, condemning the brutal affair 
 that was to be, and speaking in a way that reflected 
 credit on clean journalism. Here is a copy of the 
 editorial. I was requested by the proprietor to 
 write it, and he afterward approved of it. This 
 gave me courage, and I hoped good tilings for the 
 next day. But you can perhaps imagine my con 
 sternation, when the reports of the rounds as they 
 were fought came in, and I was requested to pub 
 lish them in full, with all their horrible and bloody 
 details. The report made three columns of closely 
 printed matter. Here I have it, pinned to the 
 scathing, condemnatory editorial of the day be 
 fore. There you have the ethics of journalism. 
 That was my last day in the office ; and here is 
 the tale, under glass. 
 
 " I am doing a little work now on educational 
 text-books, and perhaps the rising generation may 
 be educated to better things ; for it is the genera 
 tion, mark you, that is at fault. I do not despair, 
 however, and believe that a clean press will yet be 
 supported, and that I will see the day when the 
 Decent Edition will be bought for the home, and 
 the Indecent Edition, if printed at all, will be 
 read in a corner or behind the barn, and hurriedly 
 230
 
 put out of sight when anyone appears. When 
 men will deal practically with the matter, and call 
 things by their right names, much will be 
 gained." 
 
 "The bishop did a courageous thing the other 
 day, and we need only a few. more such men," 
 added Poe. 
 
 "That little bishop, they say, is courageous; 
 I never meet him, but should like to," interrupted 
 the judge. 
 
 " Yes ; they say he sent back a check for $500, 
 which he found in a collection for a Home for 
 Young Girls, a contribution from the publisher of 
 the Daily Account. He pinned to the check a 
 few cuttings from that paper, enclosing a note, 
 saying, that such paragraphs discouraged young 
 girls, and drove them to the streets, and filled such 
 Homes with girls who might have been saved to 
 their families and to society, had not these humil 
 iating, personal and distorted details of their lives 
 been published. It subjected them to the taunts of 
 acquaintances, which they sought to escape by a 
 bold plunge into evil ways. Enid Burr had traced 
 out for the bishop a number of cases in a Home, 
 and found that the first step downward was taken 
 after distorted details had been published in the 
 Daily Account, which wounded their pride and 
 respect. They felt themselves injured, and be-
 
 came desperate under the weight of .this injustice. 
 The bishop told the publisher that $500 did not 
 atone for such a wrong. He called it the price 
 of blood, and he would not even buy with it a 
 potter's field. He said also that the man who 
 gathers up the filth from our streets and cesspools, 
 and loads it into his cart, and takes it out to fer 
 tilize the land for the raising of crops, is engaged 
 in an honorable and even a clean business, com 
 pared with this business of gathering our social 
 filth, and dumping it down at our doors for a trif 
 ling sum a day. The publisher took it very much 
 to heart ; for he is really a man of good parts, 
 and well-intentioned, and has simply drifted with 
 the tide, and conducts his business according to the 
 prevailing code. The bishop, however, has set 
 him to thinking, and he has sent for me, asking 
 me to take charge of the paper, with sole control 
 of its news. The bishop evidently has stimulated 
 his conscience." 
 
 "That is the sort of bishop to have," said the 
 Judge, "and you must bring us together some 
 day ; 'strange, I never have met him." 
 
 They then stepped outside, where there was a 
 refreshing breeze, and Poe remarked, " I under 
 stand that there has been another resignation 
 handed in. May we look for new legislation in 
 the direction of a sane code of laws? " 
 232
 
 " I would like to get rid of all contact with the 
 courts," replied the Judge, " but it seems my fate 
 to be harassed by these elections possibly a 
 Nemesis, on account of my past derelictions. I 
 cannot prevent their electing me, and it seems my 
 duty to serve, and to spend the rest of my days in 
 quarreling with the law. This was another scandal 
 ous case ; and my resignation lay on the table an 
 hour after the report of the Master had been con 
 firmed." 
 
 " It was another equity case, then?" 
 
 " Yes, another equity ; a case of iniquity it 
 ought to be called." 
 
 " What are the points? " 
 
 "The iniquity consisted in confirming the re 
 port, although contrary to the evidence'. But a 
 judge can scarcely help himself; the fault lies in 
 the system. The matter stands thus : A judge ap 
 points a Master. The Master makes his report, 
 no matter what, and the judge confirms it always. 
 Is the judge likely to say, that the man of his own 
 appointment has been untrustworthy, and is he so 
 shortsighted as to expose the errors of his selected 
 friend? I have served as judge myself, and as 
 associate judge in this particular case, and the 
 injustices that are done every day from motives of 
 policy and self-interest, and for the purpose of 
 2 33
 
 covering up one's errors, are a scandal to our 
 courts." 
 
 " I see," said Poe, " that a judge has peculiar 
 temptations ; but has a Master any ? " 
 
 " There is where a great deal of the trouble lies. 
 A Master is an irresponsible person, only an 
 ordinary lawyer ; he is not known in the case, and 
 not held up to public view ; his name is not even 
 attached to his report ; he signs himself simply, 
 'The Master.' Here a great safeguard is let 
 down. This unknown man can act from mo 
 tives of personal feeling, out of friendship to the 
 attorneys on one side or the other ; can hide be 
 hind vague statements ; can make arbitrary de 
 cisions in matters of pure opinion ; and can in 
 dulge iit the most narrow reasoning all in the 
 name of 'The Master,' whom the public does not 
 know. The temptations to injustice are particularly 
 strong on account of the method of appointment, 
 for no judge will expose the man of his own 
 choosing. The most arbitrary decisions are some 
 times rendered, involving large sums of money ; 
 but the judge confirms them as a matter of 
 course." . 
 
 " It does not go before a jury then ? " 
 " No ; an equity case is practically decided by 
 one lawyer, unknown to the public, who is practic 
 ally irresponsible. A jury of twelve men would 
 234
 
 be a better guarantee of just dealing. To rebuff a 
 complainant would not encourage the bringing of 
 suits, and what would become of the lawyers with 
 out fees ? So reasons the Master. The jury would 
 have no such temptations." 
 
 " But one of the saddest things connected with 
 the matter," continued the judge, " is the judge's 
 refusal to read the evidence. He frequently could 
 not pass the most elementary examination on the 
 facts of the case he decides. And should he try 
 to understand, there frequently exists the inability 
 to do so, as for instance, in the case of complicated 
 accounts. He relies entirely upon the Master, and 
 confirms all he reports. But suppose the Master 
 does not understand, or does not read the 
 evidence ? What then ? ' ' 
 
 " Do you know of such derelictions of Mas 
 ters? " inquired Poe. 
 
 "I do. I know of a Master who told the at 
 torneys boldly, to their faces, that he would not 
 read the evidence, but asked them what they 
 claimed ; and reasoned that if one claimed too 
 much the other would trip him. The issue of the 
 case depended, you see, upon the ability of the 
 lawyers to trip one another. I have seen the most 
 shameful injustices done, and it has made me sick 
 at heart to see the rottenness of our procedures. I 
 resigned a few days ago for the sixth time, and 
 2 35
 
 am going to the legislature to have a law passed to 
 the effect that the judge must submit to an examin 
 ation to prove that he has read\\\z evidence, and 
 that he has understood it. Startling as this in 
 sinuation may seem, it will strike at the root of the 
 matter. There is not a case of injustice, but there 
 is a suppressed murmur among the attorneys, that 
 the judge did not read the evidence." 
 
 " Do you think judges take bribes? " 
 
 " Do you mean money? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No. That were a blunder. You will not 
 find a bright man so thoughtless as to commit it. 
 Those things are arranged in another way. They 
 give favors for favors received, not actual money, 
 but that which has a money value. When a judge 
 with- a handsome salary is elected, it means that 
 some one has been active to secure him this elec 
 tion. He makes a mental note of it, and being an 
 honorable man, the little affair will not be forgot 
 ten. He takes no bribes, no money, he simply 
 draws his salary. He gives no money, he simply 
 appoints a Master who is to receive handsome 
 costs; or he renders arbitrary decisions when 
 questions of opinion are concerned, which has a 
 money value to the litigants, or to the winning at 
 torney." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 236
 
 " A winning attorney makes a reputation, which 
 has a money value. It all comes down to a matter 
 of money hard cash no matter by what round 
 about way you get at the matter." 
 
 " It seems that a reformation is necessary," said 
 Poe, who was not a little touched at the frankness 
 of the judge. 
 
 "Necessary? I look upon many of our courts, 
 as one huge machinery for legalizing injustice. 
 And the sad> feature of it is, that you cannot look 
 for a great change. The farces played in the 
 presence of the woman with the bandage over her 
 eyes, are not seen by her ; and no one cares to 
 have her see. That is the reason they keep her 
 bandaged." 
 
 "But cannot something be done ?" suggested 
 Poe. 
 
 " The case is a peculiar one, and makes reform 
 
 difficult. There are three men who might become 
 
 reformers, but they are the very persons upon 
 
 whom you cannot count the man who has been 
 
 x squeezed, the attorney, and the judge. 
 
 " The man who has had an injustice done him 
 in the name of the 'law, is generally a poor man, 
 that is the reason he has been squeezed. He 
 had no money, and could not hold out. It was 
 only a matter of holding out. This poor man is 
 so disgusted that he dares not give himself a 
 237
 
 thought of lawyers, judges, and the courts. He 
 gets off a car when he finds it will pass the temple 
 of Justice. It is not probable that such a man will 
 enter upon a career as reformer. But even were 
 he willing, he would not be able, without a purse, 
 to work the machinery of the legislature ; could 
 not meet the legitimate expenses which such an un 
 dertaking would involve. 
 
 " Then as to the judges and the lawyers. It is 
 not likely that they will take their -bread from 
 themselves, in a philanthropic endeavor, looking 
 for the good of the human race. Unjust and con 
 flicting laws nourish their profession. Justice 
 ought to be an easy and simple matter to obtain ; 
 but the ignorant and the poverty-stricken man 
 cannot get it on account of the law, its language 
 and its technicalities. The vagueness of the law 
 makes necessary a lawyer, and this necessitates a 
 lawyer on the other side, and this dispute makes 
 necessary a judge, and his apparent lack of firm 
 ground to stand on, makes necessary a court of 
 appeal, with its arguments and endless delays. . 
 The more bungling the machinery and conflicting 
 the laws, the brighter the prospect for a protracted 
 litigation ; and all this makes work for the lawyer. 
 Now will a lawyer or a judge spoil all this shuffling 
 when his bread lies in it? Can you look in that 
 direction and hope for a sane system of juris- 
 238
 
 prudence ? Certainly they ate not to be counted 
 as earnest and brilliant reformers." 
 
 " These are startling facts, Judge, and this ex 
 plains the action of the bishop. I heard of another 
 courageous thing he did not long ago. That man, 
 it appears, never does a thing without some good 
 reason, and your story, Judge, throws light on the 
 bishop's act. 
 
 "The story runs that he visited a house on 
 business, where was a bright company of pleasant 
 people, enjoying, one of those four o'clock teas. 
 He was there entirely by accident, but was invited 
 to take a cup of tea. He sat down and chatted 
 with an acquaintance, but did not drink the tea. 
 It was the home of a successful lawyer whom he 
 had once followed through a case, which was won 
 on a technicality technically right, but morally 
 infamous, as he said, and which brought in its 
 train an endless amount of trouble and suffering to 
 innocent and helpless persons. He thought of all 
 this as the tea was placed before him, and he re 
 fused to drink it because he thought he smelled 
 blood in it." 
 
 Footsteps were heard around the corner. " But 
 here comes the bishop," said Poe, " You will have 
 the pleasure of meeting the man. He has been 
 out again through the by-streets, looking up some 
 wrong or abuse, I warrant you." 
 2 39
 
 When the two were presented, the judge looked 
 for a moment as if stunned, and then laughed 
 heartily. The bishop smiled. This requires ex 
 planation. 
 
 The bishop and the judge had met before. One 
 day they were both walking along the river road 
 in opposite directions. They sat down to rest 
 within a few yards of one another, and the judge 
 took out a cigar. His match went out. He felt 
 for another cigar ; he would then walk up to that 
 little old man, offer him a cigar, get a light, and 
 possibly also a little diversion, of which he stood 
 in need. This might also be a man whom he had 
 injured, or whose relatives he had wronged on a 
 technicality, and even a cigar might prove a grain 
 of reparation. He would make no inquiries ; 
 just as likely as not he would hit the mark ; for 
 the more he inquired, the more impressed was he 
 with the devastation he had created in his success 
 ful career as a lawyer. 
 " Have a cigar ? " 
 
 The little old man took it, wrapped it in apiece 
 of newspaper, and put it in his pocket. 
 
 "I thank you; I do not smoke myself, but I 
 have friends who do ; I hate the smell in my 
 clothes, and the paper protects me. No, I never 
 learnt. I once made a calculation, and found 
 that it has saved me quite a fortune. Not that 
 240
 
 I have the fortune, but I should have needed the 
 fortune to keep it up. And yet, I suppose, I 
 handle more cigars than you do. Indeed if I 
 smoked I could only accept as many as I could con 
 veniently use; but as it is, I accept all that are 
 offered, and by far a greater number than any 
 one man could possibly use himself. You see I 
 have so many friends who really depend upon me 
 for their supplies. Smoking is one of the strange 
 habits of life." He then went on relating a series 
 of stories of singular incidents, grouped around 
 cigars, pipes and tobacco pouches, until the judge 
 became a little nervous ; for he had all this time 
 been holding his cigar with the end bitten off. 
 expecting to get a match. But this miscarried. 
 He got one from a guard ; and then sat down be 
 side the talkative stranger. They watched the wa 
 ter sprinklers. The old man thought the roads well 
 watered ; indeed everything seemed to be con 
 ducted in the interest of those who drove car 
 riages. He would like to see more shelters 
 erected, so as to have less sprinkling on poor 
 mothers and babies. He one day saw a little 
 child almost drowned in a storm. Less sprink 
 ling on the roads, and less sprinkling on the babies 
 was wanted, he thought. 
 
 He also spoke of the want of benches along the 
 river road, and said he could never see the econ- 
 16 241
 
 omy of gathering them up and piling them outside 
 the shelters and exposed to the winter storms. At 
 least a few broken-down benches might be left 
 scattered along frequented paths. Did not the 
 Commissioners know that there were suits pending 
 all the year round ; and did not these men involved 
 in litigations need long walks, even in midwinter, 
 to get away from men and nearer the kindly 
 trees. ? 
 
 The judge'wi need ; but the turn the conversation 
 had been taking, caused him to move up a little 
 closer ; and for several hours he sat listening to 
 the old man's remarks and comments on a wide 
 range of subjects, until his watch reminded him 
 of an engagement. He bade the stranger a good- 
 day, and walked down the river path toward the 
 city. A few minutes afterward, the little old man 
 passed him, riding in a carriage, and he looked out 
 and smiled. The judge had not asked his name, 
 had formed no particular opinion of him, had only 
 been intensely interested in the variety of subjects 
 he had talked about so well. He had been im 
 pressed with the rough shoes, the trousers rolled 
 up, and the knotty stick; these things with his 
 bright eyes, his benevolent features, and the fund 
 of information which he launched forth with a 
 lavish prodigality, all were now recalled ; and he 
 wondered to whom he had been speaking. He 
 242
 
 also recalled that he had sat there for several hours, 
 scarcely uttering a word himself. Oddly enough, 
 he had been entertained by tobacco-pipe stories 
 for half an hour, in which all the great men who 
 smoked and who did not smoke were recounted, 
 and this by a man who never smoked himself, but 
 who never refused a cigar, and who was the source 
 of supply to his friends. A queer man this. He 
 also remembered that he had been led step by step 
 over a wide range of subjects, literature, poli 
 tics, the recent discoveries in science, the history 
 of religions, and the great philanthropic questions 
 of the day ; that he had gone from stage to stage 
 with ease, had been interested at every turn, had not 
 been .bored by undue dogmatism ; and that through 
 it all the man had never stopped sufficiently long 
 for the wedging in of a word. The bench had 
 taught him how to listen to the narration of 
 facts ; and here he had listened for half a day, 
 had been instructed and fascinated, and had then 
 abandoned this intellectual feast, that he might 
 get his regular dinner. He despised himself. He 
 had not even inquired the man's name. Would 
 he ever meet him again? He walked that way 
 the next day, and the next, and the day follow 
 ing, for a whole week, but did not meet him. 
 He then recollected the coachman ; it was Midas's 
 man. This puzzled him still more. How could 
 243
 
 this poor man have any connection with Midas ? 
 Then those conversations were again recalled, and 
 he was puzzled more than ever. For a few clays 
 he thought about the matter, and then it wholly 
 passed out of his mind. 
 
 It was this introduction, that brought up the 
 incident of a year ago, which caused the amuse 
 ment. The judge and the bishop met. 
 
 " We have just been confessing our sins to one 
 another," said Poe to the bishop, " and we have 
 concluded that there is little good in us. Our 
 press is unwholesome, and our courts are not 
 sweet." 
 
 "These things, taken in connection with the 
 derelictions of the Church," interrupted the bishop, 
 " make the case of us three sad indeed ; very sad ; 
 and they ought to cause us confusion of face. But 
 I must not reproach you. Upon me rests a great 
 deal of the blame. I have frequently thought of 
 the fact, that about the last one to apply to, to 
 bring about a reform, is the clergyman. He does 
 not seem to be very courageous, or to have any 
 business with practical righteousness. The good 
 women are generally the leaders in social reform. 
 Perhaps it is because evils press hardest in their 
 direction, and they then revolt and lead off. But 
 what a time they do have to get the clergy inter 
 ested in any live, positive, practical movement for 
 244
 
 righteousness. They are so preoccupied, busy 
 with services and talk, that the women despair." 
 
 The judge and the editor listened with astonish 
 ment, and the three men walked up and down the 
 veranda, locked arm in arm, and bending their 
 heads low. They could not look each other in the 
 face as they thus mutually confessed their sins. 
 
 Here were three brilliant minds, who had tried 
 to be of service to humanity in three of the most 
 helpful of ways. One tried to bring light to the 
 intellect, another sought to satisfy that sense of 
 justice that is native to every heart, and the third 
 sought to be helpful to both, in their high endeav 
 ors to promote a brotherhood, founded upon intel 
 ligence and justice. But they found their work 
 almost abortive. What ought to have been a 
 source of light, threw only a shadow, and what 
 ought to have satisfied a sense of justice, only proved 
 a grim farce. They turned away from their work, 
 and spoke to one another frankly and freely, but 
 with heaviness of heart. One longed for a fisher 
 man's hut, beyond the reach of railroad and tele 
 graph, where he could hear no news; the other 
 wanted an abode among simple and primitive peo 
 ple who did no wrong, or if they did, who had no 
 machinery to work a double wrong in seeking to 
 redress it. 
 
 But there was in their conduct a rich promise of 
 2 45
 
 good. They had made sacrifices and had con 
 fessed their sins. There was repentance and the 
 fruit. They had turned their faces toward the city 
 where dwelleth' righteousness. The one said, our 
 reading must be clean ; the other said, our courts 
 must be just ; and the third said, our clergy must 
 act. When three such men, who sincerely say 
 such words, can be found, the outlook for the age is 
 not altogether a hopeless one. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 REPARATION. 
 
 A pious magistrate ! sound his praise throughout 
 
 The wondering churches. Who shall henceforth doubt 
 
 That the long wished Millennium draweth nigh? 
 
 U'hittier. 
 
 As this bud was ripening for the judgeship, 
 Counselor Rue was known as a specialist. His 
 stronghold was constructed of solid layers of closely 
 cemented technicalities, and he hid within it and 
 defeated justice every time. This was well known ; 
 so that when anyone felt that he had no moral 
 right in his case, or firm ethical ground to stand 
 on, he employed Counselor Rue, who would plant 
 himself behind his cold wall of technicalities, and 
 246
 
 win every time; and on these lines his business 
 prospered. 
 
 When, however, repentance came, there was a 
 clamor for such a judge one who based himself 
 upon the ethics of the matter. Hence it occurred 
 that he was so often elected ; although only to 
 resign when he ran up against walls of technicali 
 ties similar to those which had so often sheltered 
 him. He was elected ten times; sat about a week 
 each time, then resigned, and spent the time be 
 tween the elections in quarreling with the law and 
 enlightening legislators. That was the kind of 
 judge to have, thought the citizens at the polls, 
 a judge with sensitive nostrils. 
 
 It was pitiful to see the various efforts which 
 . Judge Rue made toward reparation to persons 
 whom he had done a professional injury. It mat 
 tered not whether he had won or lost the case, it 
 was all the same. The very fact that he had pros 
 ecuted a case against anyone, was sufficient to sat 
 isfy him that he had wronged that man. If he 
 won, very likely it was on a cold technicality 
 the essence of injustice ; if he lost, the winner 
 was really the loser, for he made an opponent 
 fight hard and long, and the pain and suffering 
 caused, and the expense which it involved, left 
 the winner a wreck. Thus he reasoned, and 
 sought out all against whom he had ever con- 
 247
 
 ducted cases, and seriously tried to make such 
 reparation as lay in his power. There were, 
 however, some wrongs which could not be atoned 
 for. Money could not do it; time, labor, love, 
 devotion, nothing could undo the wrong that had 
 been done. This was brought home to him one 
 day very forcibly, in a way that cast a gloom over 
 his life. 
 
 He was one day making a tour of inspection at 
 the Alms House, of which he had been elected a 
 visitor. As he was passing through the women's 
 ward of the department for the insane, a patient 
 unexpectedly rushed forward and struck him- in 
 the face ; and seizing him by the hair dragged him 
 to the floor. The keepers came to his assistance, 
 and secured and removed the woman to a cell. 
 She kept up an incessant crying, and charged the 
 judge with having ruined her husband, and with 
 being the cause of the death of her daughter, 
 and also the cause of her being detained where 
 she was. The keepers were taken by surprise, as 
 this patient had hitherto been remarkably mild 
 and tractable ; in fact, she had been out on pa 
 role, and it was thought she should soon be per 
 manently discharged. But this new development 
 of her mental condition, while if demanded atten 
 tion, was not uncommon. Patients had those ab 
 normal attacks ; indeed, nothing was much of a 
 248
 
 surprise in that place. So the judge was assured 
 by the keepers, and was asked to pass the matter 
 over as a freak of the mentally unsound. 
 
 The judge, however, was set thinking. He in 
 quired as to the antecedents of this woman, and 
 made careful notes. A few days afterward, he re 
 turned and inquired whether it was possible to 
 make arrangements to have this patient treated as 
 a pay patient, with better accommodations, and 
 such comforts as money could provide. He guar 
 anteed to meet all such expenses, and left a sum 
 for any immediate want. In a few days he called 
 again and made further provision. He inquired 
 as to the whereabouts of the husband and the fam 
 ily. He learned that the husband had no settled 
 abode; that several children had died about the 
 time the mother's insanity developed itself, and 
 that the home was broken up. 
 
 The husband of this woman had once been a 
 prosperous business man, and had accumulated a 
 little fortune ; but had gotten involved in a law 
 suit, and had lost all. The bright business man 
 became a wreck. His living was gone ; and with 
 want and poverty in his home, lie was unable to 
 cope with a long siege of sickness, which took 
 away two children all he had. The wife's wor- 
 riments brought on cerebral disease, and she was 
 taken to the Alms House. 
 249
 
 The man was located by the judge at a cheap 
 lodging-house, where he was in debt. He had 
 had a situation given him by a former business 
 friend, but his troubles in the courts seemed to 
 have unbalanced his mind, and he lacked capacity 
 to properly fulfill his duties. He, however, was 
 kept in his position until the house changed hands, 
 when he was informed that his services were no 
 longer required. He then had a paper route given 
 him, but he lacked the energy to meet the early 
 morning requirements, and that also came to noth 
 ing. He then drifted into selling papers on the 
 streets, to his former business friends. Of all sad 
 things, this was most pitiful, and it cut the judge 
 to the heart. This man, bearing the marks of ed 
 ucation and refinement, and known for his past 
 business success and integrity, was now hawking 
 papers, and daily meeting men with whom he had 
 had dealings by check. The judge had often seen 
 him, but now that he knew his history, he was 
 filled with remorse. He would sometimes send 
 boys to buy the whole armful. It was the best he 
 could do, as the man was bitter and revengeful, 
 and had resisted numerous advances which the 
 judge had made. 
 
 One day the judge inquired at 'his lodging place 
 about his rent. He had never fallen behind a 
 great deal, but had a miserable little room, very
 
 close and stuffy, under thereof, which, during 
 the summer, was almost unendurable. The lady who 
 let the room had kindly given him a larger room, 
 on the second floor, which had temporarily become 
 vacant, as was usual in summer, when many of her 
 lodgers left the city. She thought the old man 
 willing, and a good payer when he had the money, 
 and as he gave little trouble around the house, she 
 tried to make him more comfortable in the larger 
 room, as he was far from strong, and the heat 
 caused him much suffering. She did not charge 
 him extra so long as the room was not wanted. 
 After personally learning these facts, the judge left 
 a sum of money for the extra pay, and asked that 
 the man might be allowed to remain. He would 
 always be responsible for this rent, and if she could 
 reduce the sum paid by the old man, without 
 arousing suspicion, he would make up the differ 
 ence. But she must say nothing of what had 
 passed between them. Winter came, and lodgers 
 filled the house, but the old man remained in his 
 large, comfortable room. Since times were so 
 hard, he could also have the room for half the sum 
 he had been paying. He looked a little bewilder 
 ed, but after this temporary interest, became 
 stolid. He did not take an interest in anything. 
 He accepted all as a matter of course. 
 
 The judge's cautiousness was prudent ; for one 
 251
 
 day he was told that the old man had been loiter 
 ing around the gates of the Alms House, and had 
 been inquiring what days the judge visited there. 
 The officials had incautiously told him that the 
 judge had made provision for the wife. This 
 greatly agitated him. " He has ruined me, and 
 now he wishes to take my wife from me by bribes. 
 He is sly ; but I will see to that I will see to 
 that." 
 
 The judge followed him one day to the place 
 where he got his meals. A kind, neat Quaker 
 lady said he had been coming there for several 
 months ; that he paid, but chose the cheapest, and 
 ate little. The judge asked whether she thought 
 he would eat more if he could pay, and whether 
 she had any wayof letting him have more without 
 arousing suspicion, if he should leave the sum to 
 cover such extra expense. From that time on 
 there always was added a cup of coffee or a custard, 
 perhaps, which he had not ordered. He ate 
 voraciously all that was placed before him. This 
 man, who was once so keen to see the relation be 
 tween an article and the price paid for it, had now 
 ceased to notice anything. 
 
 By skillful treatment and change of scene the 
 
 woman was restored to health. This was brought 
 
 about by a long journey. She went to Europe as 
 
 companion to a lady. This lady was really the 
 
 252
 
 attendant employed by the judge. The invalid 
 was paid a little sum to keep up the fiction. 
 
 The old man continued on the alert, and re 
 sented all overtures, even refused to sell the 
 judge a paper ; and he steeled his heart. 
 
 When death came to the woman, a carriage fol 
 lowed at a distance, as the little procession wended- 
 its way on foot to the graveyard. After the burial, 
 a man emerged from this carriage and stood by the 
 grave until the diggers had entirely filled it in ; he 
 then gave several directions, slipped a few coins 
 into the rough hands of the men, and left as 
 mysteriously as he had come. The same man was 
 afterwards frequently seen entering the cemetery, 
 and- sitting by the grave for hours at a time. Such, 
 however, was no unusual occurrence, so the keepers 
 thought nothing of it. They, however, always 
 came near the man, who always had some commis 
 sion for them, and paid them liberally for keeping 
 well-tended this grave. 
 
 One day the old man chanced to enter the ceme 
 tery, and met this man giving directions at his 
 wife's grave. The meeting was a terrible one. 
 The old man who had for a year past become quiet 
 in his ways, suddenly burst out into a torrent of 
 imprecations. His eyes flashed, and bulged from 
 his head, and grew blood-shot ; his face flushed 
 and every nerve in his body quivered ; he drew 
 253
 
 himself up to full length and opened and closed 
 his mouth as if speaking, but could not utter an 
 audible word ; he gave one long, searching, 
 piercing look into the face of the judge ; his eyes 
 seemed to burst and his brain boil ; and falling 
 forward, he clasped the judge in a close embrace, 
 dragging him to the grave, where after a few long 
 gasps, the maniac died holding the judge as in a 
 vise. 
 
 The coroner said that both his heart and brain 
 were diseased. 
 
 As a matter of formality, the judge was required 
 to sign the document of inquest. He took the 
 pen with a trembling hand, and looking vacantly 
 out of a window, held it for a long time. The 
 coroner reminded him that there were others wait 
 ing to sign. He had folded his hands on the 
 paper and become oblivious to his surroundings. 
 
 The judge tried to spend his fortune in relieving 
 those whom he had injured. He was lavish when 
 opportunities for reparation opened ; but they were 
 few, as those injured were bitter, and resented his 
 advances. It broke his heart. 
 
 He died, leaving a considerable estate, which 
 he would gladly have returned to those whom he 
 had involved in litigations. He made a will which 
 read as follows : 
 
 254
 
 I give and bequeath $250,000 to the 
 insane asylums (sic) of this city and 
 state. I earned (sic) this money from 
 those who spent their lifetime in law 
 suits. This legacy is only a restitu 
 tion. 
 
 t 
 
 When the lawyers got hold of the judge's will, 
 it was thrown into chancery and kept there for two 
 generations. An unmarried lawyer got married, 
 raised a family on the refreshers, and when quite 
 old left the case in the hands of his son. The will 
 was finally overthrown on a technicality. He who 
 had written hundreds of wills which stood, had his 
 own overthrown on a technicality, and the princi 
 pal, was eaten up in costs a grim, unrelenting 
 Nemesis which followed this man beyond the 
 grave. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 CONCERNING PAST DAYS. 
 
 Ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto 
 him, Sit thou here in a good place ; and say to the poor ; Stand thou 
 there or sit here under my footstool. James. 
 
 THE little reforms which Ai wrought had their 
 little romances. They were not always accom- 
 
 255
 
 plished by design, after careful thought, but a pure 
 accident might suggest an opportunity which he 
 would embrace. 
 
 The cosmopolitan congregations of 
 
 are the result of his work ; but this was not brought 
 about by deliberate design or by hard work or 
 persistent effort. He took the tide at the flood, 
 and the work was done. 
 
 One day, after he had preached one of his 
 characteristic sermons on man's inhumanity to 
 man, as he was passing out, the sexton handed him 
 a card upon which were written a few lines which he 
 tried to decipher. The sexton, a roguish man, 
 eyed Ai, and then remarked ; " That is quite 
 good, isn't it? " 
 
 Ai read it again carefully, and said, "I do not 
 quite understand it." 
 
 The sexton then took him aside and explained. 
 This bishop was very approachable and found it 
 advantageous to be on good terms with the sextons 
 of his diocese. It was from that source that he 
 really got his information of the condition of 
 things when the congregations were not on dress 
 parade. He rarely read the parochial reports, but 
 closely questioned the sextons, whom he called 
 the Diocesan Committee on the State of the 
 Church. 
 
 They both laughed, and Ai said it was capital. 
 256
 
 He appreciated a pleasantry, and this was more 
 than good. He put the card into his pocket, and 
 said with a twinkle in his eye, that it would make 
 a good text next time he came. A few weeks 
 afterwards, Ai asked for this pulpit; for it was his 
 custom not to make periodical visits to the 
 churches for confirmation only ; but he asked for 
 opportunities to deliver special messages when they 
 burned within him. The timid messengers who 
 thought a good deal, but lacked the courage to 
 deliver, found this deliciously convenient. Those 
 were the days of bold and pregnant thought and 
 fearless speech. The bald thought was pretty 
 evenly distributed among the clergy, but the fear 
 less speech was mainly uttered through the bishop. 
 The man whose one aim in life was to be safe, 
 would be stirred with some wrong of the times; 
 but prudence would dictate moderation, which gen 
 erally ended in absolute silence. Why sacrifice 
 himself? It would neither be wise nor right. One 
 owed a duty to oneself and to others. Thus would 
 he reason. So the messenger became dumb, and 
 the message lay neatly folded and undelivered. 
 And yet there was stirring speech, but it came 
 through Ai. The clergy made the bishop the 
 dumping ground for all wrongs and abuses, and put 
 into his ear all schemes of reform with which the 
 times were concerned. They would furnish him
 
 with powder and ball, point out the mark, and 
 then run for a tree. And so it was one of his 
 sayings as he passed from the vestry door, "To 
 day I have laid my hands upon their heads ; next 
 time I come, I will touch their consciences." 
 
 Impey thought this especially fine ; and he 
 recommended two bishops to every d.iocese one 
 for touching the head, and the other for touching 
 the conscience ; and when the touching, of the 
 conscience should become a serious business, then 
 would the laying on of hands have a significance. 
 
 When the promised visit was made, Ai took with 
 him the card, and made it the starting point of his 
 discourse. 
 
 The story of the card as told by the sexton, 
 was substantially as follows : A man who had 
 not been to Church for a long time, finally heark 
 ened to the persuasions of his wife, and decided to 
 go. Arriving at the Church, he found few people 
 in it, and no ushers on hand ; so he went up the cen 
 tre aisle and took possession of a nice pew. Just as 
 the service was about to begin, a pompous-look 
 ing old man came in, walked to the door of that 
 pew, and stood there, exhibiting evident surprise 
 that it was occupied. The occupant moved over 
 and offered him room to sit down, but he declined 
 to be seated. Finally the old man produced a 
 258
 
 card, and wrote upon it with pencil, " / pay for 
 this pew. ' ' 
 
 He gave the card to the strange occupant. 
 
 The stranger adjusted his eyeglasses, and with 
 a smile read the card, and then calmly wrote be 
 neath it, " How much do you pay ? " 
 
 To this inquiry the pompous gentleman, still 
 standing, wrote abruptly, " Two hundred dollars 
 a year sir. ' ' 
 
 The stranger smiled as though pleased, looked 
 around to compare the pew with others, admired 
 its soft cushion and rich furnishings, and wrote 
 back, "/ don't blame you it is well worth it." 
 The pompous gentleman at that stage, collapsed 
 into his seat. 
 
 The bishop read the card to the congregation, 
 causing no little merriment ; and then in his in 
 imitable manner, delivered his truth. The fruits 
 appeared. A few weeks afterwards, two-thirds of 
 the congregation yielded up their rights to pews, 
 and promised an ample support through the offer 
 ings. The other pew-holders followed within the 
 year, and that church became the cosmopolitan 
 and all-inclusive institution it is to-day. 
 259
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 AN INTELLECTUAL ANVIL. 
 
 But always there is seed being sown, silently and unseen ; and ev 
 erywhere there come sweet flowers without our foresight and labor. 
 George Eliot. 
 
 IT is a notable fact, that although there had 
 been a close intimacy between Impey and Ai for 
 half a century, Impey had never been to Church, 
 to hear Ai preach. He had spent much time in 
 the bishop's company, revised much of his man 
 uscript, nursed him for weeks in illness, but had 
 never set foot inside his Church. Impey had led 
 little children to the school of the little cathedral, 
 and had distributed at the corners thousands of 
 invitations to its services ; but had never gone 
 himself. He sometimes would inveigle working- 
 men into discussions on Sunday mornings, and 
 then breaking off suddenly would say, "If you 
 wish to hear this very subject discussed, go to 
 the Church on Minster Street this morning, and 
 hear Ai preach; he will treat it ably, I assure 
 you." And thus he had sent many interested 
 listeners, but had never gone himself. 
 
 '' Why should I go and hear myself preach ? " 
 he said to me one day. 
 
 260
 
 "How yourself preach? I don't understand 
 you." 
 
 "How.? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "There has not been a sermon from the lips 
 of Ai for years, that I could not have repeated 
 to you three days before it was delivered, in sub 
 stance, at least." 
 
 All this was curious, and Impey told me the 
 following story as we walked up the glen to Bel- 
 mont, to hear the Gypsy band. 
 
 "That bishop has the most consummate faculty 
 of selecting the good ideas lying loose around him, 
 and not only selecting, but reflecting them ; and 
 it is that which makes him the forceful man he 
 is. He selects ; he reflects ; he is a huge mirror. 
 He fills his Church with all sorts and conditions 
 of men, and his power over all comes from his 
 understanding of all. He talks with the brick 
 layers on the scaffold, stands on platforms with 
 conductors, lingers around shops, and sits with 
 workmen while they take their noonday rest. 
 He learns the modes of thought of each, and 
 their language ; and having gathered his material, 
 he comes to me, or rather I go to him ; when 
 together we select and trim, arrange and fill out, 
 in short we hammer out his sermon." 
 261
 
 " You ! of the little propaganda at Franklin and 
 Wood, help the bishop to preach, did you say?" 
 
 "Yes; we hammer out the sermons together ; 
 we did that a long time before I knew it ; how 
 long, I cannot say. Perhaps you would like to 
 hear how I found him out." 
 
 " Found him out, did you say? " 
 
 "Yes, found him out ; he was sly ; but I found 
 him out." 
 
 Impey then continued : 
 
 " One day a lady was taking me to task for not 
 going to church. I pleasantly asked her how much 
 of the last sermon she remembered. She replied 
 that she remembered a great deal could not help 
 doing so, her pastor was so interesting. She then 
 went on and recounted the points of a sermon on 
 the cruelties of sport. Up to this time she had not 
 told me who the preacher was : but I interrupted 
 her, and said that it seemed as if Ai might have 
 been that preacher. She seemed surprised and 
 asked how I knew. I did not tell her how we had 
 debated the subject a few days before Ai was to 
 preach in the interest of the Society for the Pre 
 vention of Cruelty to Animals. 
 
 " A few days afterward, another thing happened. 
 
 The same lady said that I ought to have heard Ai 
 
 preach on the destruction of the poor by their 
 
 poverty. I then remembered that Ai and I had 
 
 262
 
 been comparing notes just a few days before, and 
 had come to the conclusion that every day furn 
 ished pitiful instances of the disadvantages under 
 which the poor labored. 
 
 " Here were two incidents which gave me light. 
 But the week following, when the lady was about 
 telling me the subject of Ai's last sermon, I antici 
 pated her, and told her not only the subject, but 
 also the method of treatment, and even told her 
 the points upon which he waxed warm, and those 
 upon which he was indifferent. She thought I 
 must have been there to hear him, but I assured 
 her that I had not, and that I never had heard 
 him; which a little perplexed her. 
 
 " I was then convinced that I was helping Ai. 
 For years this has been going on. Many a good 
 time have we had on that floor ; they have been 
 feasts to us, those evenings. The Church got only 
 the skimmed milk ; we had the cream. The Church 
 saw the flash only ; the forceful work was done in 
 that room. We were warmed, I assure you, 
 whether others were or not. Preaching, what a 
 poor thing it is, compared with the preparing to 
 preach. And for one man to prepare his sermons, 
 what a prosy affair, both to himself and to the 
 congregation. It is when two work out the thought 
 hammer it out like two at an anvil that some- 
 263
 
 thing can be expected. The people said Ai 
 preached. Ai knew it was Ai and I. 
 
 " You ought to feel the luxury of Ai's rugs ; a 
 pile of them, each one an inch in thickness, 
 brought from the Orient. We reveled in their, 
 softness, and they might tell their wonderful tales. 
 For years my Thursdays belonged to Ai. After 
 he was safe from intrusion in the evening, we 
 would take off our shoes and coats, blow out the 
 candle, pile wood on the fire, and lie on the rugs, 
 watching the shadows play on the ceiling. He 
 then would ask a question, only a casual one ap 
 parently, but it was designedly done, a part of his 
 method to draw me out and make me talk. No 
 one would have thought anything about it, unless 
 he had been in the secret. This was his anvil 
 upon which he forged his addresses. Sometimes 
 he would make an assertion that would naturally 
 arouse dissent ; this only to create an interest. 
 There was mqthod in his affected skepticism. 
 He would lead me on by questions and cross- 
 questions, until the whole subject in hand had 
 been gone over, investigated, turned inside out, 
 rearranged, trimmed and polished ; and so for 
 several hours, sometimes until the small hours, 
 we would forge the lances which he so aptly 
 hurled from his cathedral pulpit. At first, as I 
 said before, I was not aware of his method; but 
 264
 
 I learnt it in time. Those were rare seasons. 1 
 never missed the Thursday roll on the floor, and 
 many a night have I slept there, after our inter 
 change of thought and talk. And such talk ! I 
 have known him to bring down his little fist upon 
 those rugs and send clouds of dust up the chim 
 ney. I have seen him kick over a chair, while 
 expressing his contempt at the unchristian things 
 that are done in the name of the Nazarene. 
 
 " I once told a friend, the same lady, that I 
 was the preacher, and that Ai was my mouthpiece. 
 She took it all in a spirit of banter. I assured her, 
 it was even so, and I would prove it to her. She 
 then asked me, with a twinkle in her eye, what 
 next Sunday's sermon was to be. I told her, that 
 that had been determined last Thursday." 
 
 '' ' What is it? ' she asked dubiously; and I told 
 her." 
 
 Here Impey broke off the conversation and we 
 walked a long time without a word. I then asked 
 him what he had told the lady, what the subject 
 of the sermon had been. 
 
 He touched his forehead as if trying to recol 
 lect ; then repeated slowly : 
 
 " The Absolute Inerrancy of all Writings that 
 
 have been Chiseled on Crumbling Stone ; Written 
 
 by the finger of One Who was a Spirit ; Penned 
 
 by Stylus and Quill ; and afterward Transcribed 
 
 265
 
 and Re-transcribed; Translated and Re-trans 
 lated ; Printed and Reprinted; taking the 
 Chances of Centuries of Vicissitudes ; Read and 
 Re-read by Men advanced in Every Degree of 
 Learning and Ignorance. ' ' 
 
 " What ! ! ! " 
 
 " That," said Impey, " was the title I suggested 
 to Ai ; but he boiled it down, and advertised that 
 he would preach on ' The Inspiration of the Scrip 
 tures.' ' 
 
 " Ai called me his partner ; and without me he 
 seemed to be disconcerted, and the work could not 
 go on ; and without this hammering Ai never 
 preached. I never parted from him without his 
 asking me whether I could be depended upon next 
 Thursday, without fail." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Let u? then be what we are, and speak what we think, and in .ill 
 things keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred professions of 
 friendship. Long-fellow. 
 
 IN analyzing the character of a great man, it is 
 
 sometimes difficult to fix upon any one particular 
 
 thing which made him great. The distinguishing 
 
 mark when found is frequently so small, or so 
 
 266
 
 ordinary, that it is a matter of surprise. The 
 point of excellence will generally be found in the 
 direction of human sympathy. The man was a 
 benefactor to his race, and in this consisted his 
 greatness. No one is remembered fondly who has 
 been selfish or cruel ; but one who has been in 
 sympathetic touch with his fellow-men, is en 
 shrined in their hearts. 
 
 For half a century Ai lived a quiet life among 
 the people. It was preeminently a sympathetic 
 life among people of all classes. He knew no 
 classes, and scorned a condescending air toward 
 the poor as much as he did a crawling, deferential 
 attitude toward the rich. He knew only the man 
 as his brother and fellow, and sought to be of 
 service as such. These characteristics mark the 
 
 To influence the individual was one purpose of 
 his life, and he tried to have others act on the 
 same principle ; and thus, he maintained, would 
 society be influenced. This can only be done by 
 walking the straight line of integrity, and by a 
 close sympathy with men. He was a great gen 
 eral ; but he became so because he knew how to 
 go along the rank and file, knowing each man, and 
 putting himself into sympathetic touch with that 
 man. He never put on his regalia and mounted a 
 pedestal, saying, "See, I am a great man ac- 
 267
 
 knowledge me as such ; " but" as he went about in 
 fatigue dress, the people instinctively felt that here 
 was coming a man. 
 
 His sympathy for suffering was as keen as was 
 his hatred of folly and shams. In passing along 
 the street he would raise his hat and walk with 
 bowed head when passing a door marked with the 
 sign of affliction. This was not noticed by Impey 
 for a long time, until one winter day. It could 
 not then be on account of the heat, and it occur 
 red always at the door where the sign of death was 
 displayed. Impey made a note of his surmises, 
 and he satisfied himself of their correctness. Here 
 Shoenstein and Ai found common ground, and 
 their sympathies drew them together. The Jew 
 would frequently join Ai in his walks through the 
 quarters tenanted by the poor; and when passing 
 a door where the sign was white, they would in 
 quire whether they could be of service, even if the 
 people were strangers. Shoenstein would always 
 ask particularly whether the little one was a boy. 
 On stormy winter days the two old men would fol 
 low the little processions and stand in the rain and 
 in the snow, and see the last rites performed. The 
 bishop and the Jew walked arm in arm, recalling 
 memories which could not be effaced. The Jew's 
 steps became tottering; but he would wrap him 
 self in his warm cloak, and stand in the cold wind 
 268
 
 and rain, because fifty years ago he had laid away. 
 a child, his little Jacob, and he remembered 
 the day was snowy and stormy. The two old men 
 would put their arms around one another for sup 
 port ; and after these funerals they would go to 
 the room of the bishop, and the story of little 
 Jacob would be recounted with minuteness, while 
 the bishop would listen, and perhaps touch up the 
 wheels of the little iron locomotive with red paint. 
 The bishop, however, could not be induced to 
 talk. He would only shake his head, and strive 
 to hide his feelings; and an occasional tear would 
 steal upon his cheek and fall upon the toy. P'or 
 fifty years the locomotive had made its rounds to 
 the. sick-rooms of little children, and was painted 
 over many times to make it bright and attractive. 
 The invalid poor remembered Ai fondly. It 
 was through his influence that the carriages of the 
 prosperous came to be placed at the disposal of the 
 poor, who needed fresh air and a change of scene. 
 Half a century ago, could still be seen a coachman 
 exercising his horses in the Park, with an empty 
 carriage, while invalids were sweltering in courts 
 or close attics. Within the memory of men still 
 living, some lone woman could be seen driving two 
 horses two horses to pull this one woman. It 
 was after that sermon of Ai's on personal service , 
 and that other sermon on the reign of brotherhood 
 269
 
 and the triumph of the kindly heart, that a woman 
 asked for a sphere. He said, "Bring around your 
 carriage; bring it, don't send it." He then gave 
 her several addresses of invalids who would ap 
 preciate an airing. The effect was magical. This 
 leader of fashion really did it as a sincere service ; 
 but in a few weeks many had taken it up as a fad ; 
 and to give rides to invalids became an imperative 
 duty for those who wished to be in the fashion. 
 Most, of course, soon tired, but the sincere kept 
 on, and the matter found a solid base. The car 
 riages did not wait outside the churches, but in 
 valids were taken a turn in the Park until service 
 was over. "There are two services going on; 
 one here, inside ; and one there, outside," the 
 bishop said one day. It had its desired effect, 
 and after that he had plenty of carriages placed at 
 his disposal ; and thus the beautiful custom grew. 
 One day an amusing incident happened. A kind 
 old lady was riding alone through the Park, re 
 proaching herself on account of her selfishness. 
 The day was fine, and the thoughts of suffering in 
 the homes of the poor pricked her conscience. 
 She would make amends, she thought, and would 
 give that old man, sitting there by the roadside, a 
 pleasant ride. He looked tired and needed it. 
 The old man beat the dust out his trousers, drew 
 his shoes through the grass, and then handing up 
 270
 
 his stick, climbed in. The stick was heavy, such 
 as tramps used for carrying their bundles, and it 
 caused her a little uneasiness. The man plunged 
 into the seat beside her, and assumed the air of 
 one who felt at home. He began an incessant 
 chatter, which amused her, after her first fright, 
 and when she noticed his face, she thought she saw 
 the marks of kindness and benevolence. He 
 wiped his face with a dainty white handkerchief, 
 which left a streak on his cheek. He talked of 
 the horses and seemed to know a fine stepper; this 
 pleased the lady, who, in her younger days, had 
 been fond of the turf, and she became quite at 
 ease. Then he talked of the late election ; but 
 soon, changed the subject and spoke of a recent 
 discovery in science, the utilizing of the force of 
 the ebb and flow of the tides for manufacturing 
 purposes. He explained the different species of 
 trees ; and once ordered the carriage stopped, in 
 order to gather a strange specimen of flower he had 
 noticed by the roadside. He examined it closely, 
 analyzed it, and declared it something new. The 
 lady ordered the coachman a longer way round, 
 that she might get more of this man's talk. Occa 
 sionally she would look at the stick, and the dusty 
 shoes, and the streak on his cheek ; and then she 
 placed in contrast the dainty handkerchief and the 
 benevolent face, and these things, with all this con- 
 271
 
 versation, tended to puzzle her. " It is astonish 
 ing," said he, " what some people will do to make 
 a living. They prey upon the passions and baser 
 feelings of men, and excite and encourage them in 
 their exercise, and get their living out of the mat 
 ter. They actually do this for a living. Then 
 there is another class who get their living by the 
 misfortunes of their fellows. They calculate upon 
 a certain percentage of financial failures, and this 
 brings them a living. They do not cause disaster ; 
 they simply calculate upon its happening, and ar 
 range to take advantage of the fact. It is curious 
 to think of the many ways by which men gain a 
 living." This all set the lady wondering what he 
 was driving at, what he really meant ; but be 
 fore she could ask, he was on the subject of open 
 ing the museums and libraries on Sunday. This 
 illustrated the fact that the destruction of the poor 
 was their poverty. The rich man's business goes 
 on while he sees the pictures during the week, and 
 it costs him his admission only ; but the laborer 
 must pay his admission and lose his wages besides. 
 The clergy might well ask themselves why their 
 Churches should be closed all week. The lady 
 tried to ask a question, but he wanted to get out at 
 the Girard Avenue Bridge, and walk to Horticul 
 tural Hall to meet a celebrated botanist whom he 
 mentioned ; so they abruptly parted. The next 
 272
 
 day the lady was congratulated on the feast of rea 
 son which she must have enjoyed. She had been 
 seen by a number of acquaintances as they passed 
 in their carriages. She then told her interesting 
 story, and wondered who the man could have 
 been ; he knew all about horses, talked of politics, 
 and the wonderful and recent discoveries of 
 science, discussed social topics, analyzed a flower, 
 and then left abruptly to meet a great man of 
 science. 
 
 "Then you did not know him ?" one asked. 
 No ; she had found him by the river road and 
 wished to give the poor man a ride. 
 
 " That was the bishop, Mrs. Kindheart ! " 
 Ai's vacations were the source of a rich fund of 
 information, which he made use of in his work. 
 He knew men and hence could deal with them. 
 ' ' They say the poor man prefers the dram-shop 
 because his sleeping place is so wretched. He 
 sleeps on Park benches because of the discomforts 
 of his home. I will see about this," he said one 
 day. When he took his next vacation, he packed 
 a little bundle in a red handkerchief and went 
 without leaving any address, he would send a 
 messenger for his letters, and no questions should 
 be asked. He wanted to find out about the homes 
 of the poor in the parishes where the churches 
 were filled with the rich. He first chose the section 
 18 273
 
 frequented by a wandering class of actors, men 
 out of work, discharged convicts, undetected 
 criminals, and a forlorn class of men who had 
 failed in life from one cause or another. He en 
 gaged a bed in a cheap lodging house for two days 
 and learnt something about cleanliness Here his 
 bed had not been the cheapest, so he took a 
 cheaper, and the vermin kept him in misery. He 
 next engaged a bed in a room where there were 
 many others, and the noise of the drunken men 
 kept him awake, and the conversation overheard 
 was a revelation. One night the room was occu 
 pied by a number of sailors, one of whom stuck up 
 a row of bugs on pins, like soldiers, to the great 
 merriment of the rest. Then the old tars spun 
 wonderful yarns, and recounted their various ex 
 periences in lodging houses in different parts of 
 the world. The bishop laughed, and made his 
 contribution of a story. He took his meals at 
 cheap restaurants, and found out what some men 
 live by. He edged up to the street cleaners as 
 they took their rest at noon, and looked into their 
 handkerchiefs as they unrolled them to get their 
 dinners, and he saw what some men live by. He 
 was taken for a pard out of work, so they offered 
 to share their dinners. This kind-heartedness of 
 the poor greatly touched him. They gathered 
 pennies along the row and made up the price of a 
 274
 
 kettle of beer. When he saw their wretched 
 messes, he could understand why they sought to 
 drown their sorrows. 
 
 These experiences gave him a knowledge of 
 men. It appalled him to see the number of re 
 spectable broken-down men who had failed in life. 
 He noticed especially the woe-begone, dejected 
 look of men who had been betrayed by friends ; 
 men who had endorsed, literally crucified them 
 selves to save others ; and then had been cruelly 
 betrayed. He became interested in men who had 
 once been comfortable, but had become involved 
 in litigations. The bcarding-houses swarmed with 
 these wrecks, and they struggled along with their 
 careworn heroic wives, trying to keep above the 
 waters. These disasters are borne in silence by 
 those not on Church rolls, but who are on that roll 
 of the heroic. As he sat with these men, munch 
 ing their cheap food, he would get them to talk, 
 and find out their story. They had each his tale 
 of litigation, sad, shameful records of crime com 
 mitted by men who frequent the Churches, and 
 who call to their aid the strong arm of the law. 
 He went quite thoroughly into the matter, and was 
 saddened to find the widespread desolation and the 
 broken hearts on every side. He made careful 
 notes, and after listening to a large number of his 
 tories told independently of one another, he en- 
 275
 
 tered into his note-book one brief sentence 
 " When you go to law, fill your purse." 
 
 He met many strange characters during this va 
 cation. One day he got this story from a man. 
 He had a friend in jail serving a sentence of three 
 years for some petty theft. He himself had been 
 partner in the crime, but the convict never be 
 trayed him. This loyalty so affected the man, 
 that he worked hard to support his friend's family, 
 and he had been their only support for a long time. 
 He himself, however, was finally detected and im 
 prisoned, and the poor family, left without sup 
 port, was thrust into the most distressing poverty. 
 " One is led to doubt," said the bishop, " whether 
 imprisonment for any long term is the proper 
 thing, when such a spirit is displayed. The loyal 
 conduct of both these convicts did not spring from 
 an intrinsically bad heart. It is a question, 
 whether every month after the first, does not tend 
 to degradation. Besides, these men had a theory 
 that they had only taken that which had first been 
 taken from them, in the shape of earnings." The 
 bishop held decided views with regard to sentences 
 of imprisonment. He thought that definite terms 
 of imprisonment were a relic of barbarism, and 
 not seasoned with scientific knowledge, common 
 sense, or humanitarian instincts. Some men sen 
 tenced to long terms, were sufficiently punished in 
 276
 
 one week ; and every additional week served only 
 to degrade, to embitter, and to destroy the man, 
 instead of reforming him ; while on the other 
 hand, there are men walking our streets who ought 
 to be under perpetual restraint. He advocated an 
 indefinite term of imprisonment, and the employ 
 ment of such methods as tended to the reforma 
 tion of the man. An inflexible machinery will 
 not do this. In discussing these subjects of the 
 treatment of prisoners, he would invariably end 
 by saying, " But all this is something that ought 
 to have been attended to when the boy was in 
 knickerbockers. When we will learn how to start 
 men in life, \ve need not pay so much attention to 
 the other end." 
 
 After vacation he divested himself of his coarse 
 clothing, and met some pleasant people, at Mrs. 
 Airy's. Several bright women recounted their 
 summer experiences at the fashionable resorts. 
 The bishop evaded carefully all questions as to his 
 summer. Once he was asked whether he had had 
 a pleasant time. He replied that he had had a 
 profitable time. 
 
 He placed himself into close relations with all 
 agencies that tended to alleviate suffering among 
 children. He pitied the man or woman who suf 
 fered mentally or physically, but he himself suf- 
 277
 
 ferecl when he saw the sufferings of children and 
 the wrongs done them. 
 
 Ai gathered around him a noble class of men, 
 men of affairs as a rule, who did not seek the 
 priesthood as a profession ; these he pressed into 
 the service, and ordained. He had some of the 
 formalities revised, so that many who sought, but 
 who had no particular mark of a call, were ex 
 cluded ; while those who betrayed, unconsciously 
 to themselves, afitness for the work, were ordained, 
 almost against their will. After the usual formal 
 recommendations had been made, he invariably 
 asked the candidates if they could bring a certifi 
 cate from a group of boys who could not write 
 their names, the cellar-door recommendation, he 
 called it. In prowling around at night looking af 
 ter his diocese, he frequently came upon some 
 bright young men in dark corners and doorways 
 of the warehouses, where they, out of pure love 
 for the children, had gathered groups of ragamuf 
 fins, and were striving to gain their confidence, 
 and give them helpful thoughts and sympathy. 
 "That is the right kind of Sunday School," he 
 said one Tuesday night, to Shoenstein, whom he 
 caught sitting on a bale of goods with half a dozen 
 boys about him. He was tempted to ordain him 
 to the Christian priesthood on the spot ; but he 
 controlled himself, and respected the formalities. 
 278
 
 But he did press his hand ; and that nervous pres 
 sure of the hand, meant more to these incipient 
 priests than the after-ordination, as they termed 
 it. These cellar-door recommendations secured 
 to him the flower of the young men, and the call 
 to the priesthood was put upon a basis that had the 
 ring of genuineness. The way he would scent the 
 self-sufficient young man, the son of some fond 
 mother, perhaps, who sought a respectable calling, 
 was merciless. There were few who were willing 
 to pass under his searching eye. His priests 
 were drawn from the unwilling class who uncon 
 sciously were exhibiting the cellar-door recommen 
 dations. Any well-connected youth could secure 
 respectable signatures, but only the genuine man 
 could win the respect and sympathies of boys. 
 " Ho\v many swearing boys love you?" was a 
 startling question he one day proposed to a candi 
 date. " If they do not love you, perhaps you 
 have not proven yourself a loving brother. Go 
 and love some one." 
 
 It was not his custom to make stated and formal 
 visits for confirmation in every parish ; this con 
 sumed too much time ; he had but four such ser 
 vices in the year, to which all candidates were in 
 vited. He however visited, informally and un 
 announced, all the Churches, and thus avoided any 
 dress parade, as he termed these visitation crowds. 
 279
 
 He made it a rule to keep on close terms with the 
 sextons, for from that source the information con 
 cerning the state of the church could be obtained. 
 He knew by name every sexton of the diocese. 
 
 He often spoke to the young of the duty of be 
 ing kind to animals. He maintained that in mak 
 ing a child really thoughtful and kind at heart, the 
 hardness and cruelties of the man in his relations 
 with his fellow man would pass away. He be 
 lieved that if the principles of the Society for 
 the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, were thor 
 oughly instilled and carried out to their logical 
 conclusions, the refined cruelties of otherwise de 
 cent men would disappear. He encouraged Enid 
 Burr, who headed the Society, and thought it a 
 good thing to instil a consideration for dumb ani 
 mals, as a sure method of arousing consideration 
 for man. Teach a boy not to starve or torment 
 a rat in a trap, or work a horse without food, or 
 stone a dog just for fun, and he will see the 
 force of it ; and there can even be aroused an 
 indignation, when such things are done. When 
 this has been accomplished, and kindness has 
 really become a principle, then carry the matter 
 a step farther, and ask the boy not to be unkind 
 to any sort of animal, not even to his fellow man. 
 Tell him that it is wrong to cage a man, that is, 
 take advantage of some unfortunate situation in 
 280
 
 which he may be placed, and starve or torment 
 him ; tell him that it is wrong to work a man with 
 out proper food or housing ; tell him it is cruel to 
 break hearts or draw blood by cunning ways of 
 trade, and the orderly proceedings in law courts. 
 Make the boy really kind at heart, so that it be 
 comes a principle an enthusiasm, and it will be 
 come effective, not only in his treatment of dumb 
 creatures; but he will begin to treat humanely his 
 fellow man. He once made the startling statement 
 to Enid Burr, that if the teachings of the Society 
 were thoroughly instilled for two generations, it 
 would turn the law courts into museums ; and we 
 would go to them as we would visit a medieval tor 
 ture chamber, or some room filled with geological 
 fossils ; we would have no other use for them, and 
 no one could be found willing to serve in them. 
 Impey agreed with them, and said they must act. 
 So one day Impey bought an armful of books Black 
 Beauty and stationed himself outside the door of 
 the Law Department of the University, and waited 
 for the dismissal of the class. After he had made 
 his distribution, he kept on standing for a long 
 time with one copy of Black Beauty still in his 
 hand. 
 
 " All the fellows are out, sir," said a student, 
 kindly. 
 
 " Yes ; but the professor is still in." 
 281
 
 The bishop had a keen scent for merit that was 
 undressed and devoid of the picturesque. " Talk 
 of College Settlements," he said one day ; " there 
 is Pastor Unassume and his cultivated college-bred 
 wife and their college-bred daughter, living on a 
 quiet street among the poor, and doing their work, 
 almost unseen and unsung that is the real Settle 
 ment. They are not on the alert for a removal 
 after a few months' residence, but have settled 
 down for a life of continuous service. They are 
 fixtures. It is a settlement of cultivated people 
 among those who need their superior services : and 
 the fact that it is a pastorate, does not alter the 
 fact that they are the most helpful of college-bred 
 people who have settled for a life of service to 
 humanity, and have settled the question that a life 
 of usefulness need not necessarily be pic 
 turesque. ' ' 
 
 " There is just where you have paid your readers 
 a compliment," said Impey to me. "You have 
 not set up a finger-board; you have trusted their 
 intelligence and have not told them all, but have 
 left some ground for the imagination to play in. 
 You had no more right to invade this, than had 
 the soldiers to monopolize the boy's skating 
 ground on Boston Common." 
 282
 
 'But Impey, a few more details would fill in 
 nicely; can't you give me only a few?" I said. 
 
 "No," he replied. "You have indicated the 
 ship with a magnificent rigging ; you ITave turned 
 her prow toward her desired haven ; it matters 
 little now about the thousand ripples and tosses 
 the incidents of the voyage." And so my in 
 former became dumb for awhile and heated his 
 rattler over his lamp. I tried a little persuasion. 
 Then he broke forth excitedly, " Did you not tell 
 of a woman delicately nurtured, going and living 
 with a serious aim in life ? Think of it a moment? 
 Can there be anything but splendid possibilities in 
 such an act ? 
 
 il Have you not told of a judge stung with remorse, 
 and seeking to make reparation ? 
 
 "Have you not told of the Covenant and all 
 the rest, remaining and adjusting themselves; 
 serving the community instead of asking the com 
 munity to serve them ; feeding the flock instead of 
 being huge mouths ? 
 
 " Have you not told of a bishop establishing 
 himself on Minster Street as a centre, and work 
 ing outward, infecting the whole mass by no other 
 aid than the force of a character fashioned after 
 that of the Nazarene ? 
 
 " Have you not told of a Jew and Christian arm 
 in arm 
 
 283
 
 " Have you not told of business men dining at 
 home at noon, bringing their friends with them, 
 regardless of what became of the saloon ? 
 
 " Have you forgotten the story about Poe? 
 
 " Have you not told of Midas by the pond ar 
 raigning himself for judgment ? 
 
 "You have built already to the stars. You 
 have an intelligent circle trust them ; they will 
 fill out such lives. They will analyze men and 
 women with such an aim and facing in such a 
 direction. They will recognize members of a 
 brotherhood who have turned their faces toward 
 righteousness, and who are looking forward to a 
 true justice ; and though they move no step, the 
 vision of such faces will inspire. 
 
 "You have insidiously slipped into our bosoms 
 the essence of unselfishness ; its aroma we cannot 
 hide even if we try." 
 
 I sat with paper and pencil; but not a detail 
 more would Impey give. I then remarked that he, 
 Impey, the bosom friend of the bishop, was also 
 the essence of something, the aroma of which I 
 could find no words to describe. Impey smiled 
 and began to hammer his shoe vigorously. 
 
 "There, "said Impey, "is the new Arena; 
 have you " 
 
 Just then Mrs. Airy came in. 
 284
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 A VICTORY. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF ENID HAMILTON BURR, 
 
 BORN JUNE 10, 1872, 
 
 DEPARTED THIS LIFE JUNE 9, 1950. 
 
 She did her level best. 
 
 NOTE. The stone was engraved by a man who had been 
 a pugilist, and who is said to have possessed gigantic 
 strength. It was whispered that he had once lifted a 
 church. He came under the influence of Enid Hamilton 
 Burr and abandoned the ring. He obtained work at a 
 monument establishment, where he did an occasional job at 
 chiselling. He developed a singular talent for this, and his 
 work became celebrated for its sharp, clear lines, which no 
 one could misread. It is said that while cutting this par 
 ticular stone, the copy was lost, just as the motto was about 
 to be engraved. He, however, finished it from memory, 
 and gave his own version of the tnbute paid to that woman 
 who was a sinner. 
 
 CLOSE to a by-path in the old yard of graves at 
 Gloria Dei, can be seen the slab marking the rest 
 ing place of Enid Burr. The funeral was an 
 event. Never before or since has Southwark seen 
 such a mourning company. Business was sus- 
 285
 
 pended, and houses along the route were draped. 
 Impey raised a flag. " It is a victory," he said ; 
 "see conquered society; feel freedom in the 
 air ! " The builders of sewers stopped work and 
 uncovered their heads. Old 'men joined hands 
 with little children, and made one long line of 
 honor. As the procession moved on, subdued 
 voices were heard bearing testimony to her worth, 
 in overleaping the conventional limits which a false 
 social order had set up ; in not being afraid of 
 losing her place in society by knowing the wrong 
 people ; in combining high thinking with plain 
 living; in drawing around her a sacred circle, free 
 from gossip, envy and strife, and in adopting 
 perfect justice as the rule of her life, which gave 
 her a beauty of character that pierced to the centre 
 our shams and petty social weaknesses. 
 
 She was carried from her home on Congress 
 Street on the shoulders of four men ; a Chinaman, 
 a negro, an Italian, and Impey. How had this 
 respect, so cosmopolitan, been conquered ? It was 
 by the force of a great heart, in a time of social 
 upheavals, unselfishly devoted to high and pure 
 aims. It was the personal contact of a life with 
 other lives ; and by this personal sympathy, seek 
 ing diffusion of its best self. 
 
 Fifty years before, she had crossed the same 
 yard of graves, a happy bride, no, it was longer 
 286
 
 than that fifty-eight years ago the year 
 Whitman died. She frequently told the story of 
 her wedding romance ; how she was married, and 
 how after the ceremony, for their journey, they 
 crossed the river to Camden to view the body of 
 the gray poet, which was lying in state. Scandal 
 mongers had it that they were married in Camden, 
 but this was purely a fabrication ; as the Record 
 of Gloria Dei will prove. 
 
 A little incident of that visit was often recount 
 ed. There was lying on the threshold of the poet's 
 home on Mickle Street, a new cocoa mat, 
 evidently gotten for the occasion ; and to her it 
 was very suggestive. There was society, that had 
 misread, misunderstood, and interdicted his 
 books, and execrated the man ; the same society 
 was now standing in a long line, each one 
 patiently waiting his turn to wipe his feet, before 
 touching the floor trod by the poet. The day was 
 bright and the daintiest boot unsoiled ; yet there 
 was the mat with its significance, and all were bid 
 den to wipe their feet. Light was dawning. It 
 was the beginning of a new era ; and was marked 
 by an appreciation of the difference between 
 poetry and rhyme. This appreciation of the 
 realities of things has become keener year by year, 
 until now it has developed into an appreciation of 
 character, whether clothed in the garb of prince or 
 287
 
 peasant. Enid Hamilton Burr continued an ardent 
 admirer of the rugged poet, and defended him in 
 as rugged a way as he wrote. She maintained 
 that he was too much of a poet to be capable of 
 rhyme ; he thought too intensely to permit his 
 muse to run into cast iron moulds of jingle. 
 
 One day, turning over the leaves of his volume, 
 and coming upon his autograph, she remarked : 
 "How rugged and strong it is; what a hand to 
 lie unused ! It is all very mysterious, this cut 
 ting down of giant oaks, this silencing of voices 
 that sing, this laying aside of brains that think ; 
 and then to see the weak, conventional mediocri 
 ties, the incapable, the cumberers of the ground, 
 growing and propagating after their kind." 
 
 And this, which was so aptly spoken of Walt, 
 might be urged with regard to herself. Why was 
 she carried to her grave, whjle all sorts and con 
 ditions of men were sitting at her feet for instruc 
 tion ? Perhaps she who had conquered this re 
 spect could best be laid at rest. She had lived in 
 tensely and had done her work, to such there is 
 no death, but there comes a ripening, which 
 causes the fruit to drop as a natural consequence, 
 perpetuating its life in other forms and lives, while 
 its own form shrinks and disappears. This tree 
 might well be cut down after casting so much seed, 
 which was even now bearing its fruit. 
 288
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 A LIFE WORTH LIVING. 
 
 Sink not in spirit ; who aimeth at the sky, shoots higher much than 
 he who means a tree. Herbert. 
 
 AFTER doing our best work, there follows that 
 period of dejection, in which we refuse to recog 
 nize its excellence, and are tempted to cast it 
 from us, as of little account. So it was with 
 Ai, after his episcopacy of fifty years, when his 
 hair had grown quite white, and his step uncer 
 tain. His mind never was clearer, and he saw 
 in their true relations matters and events, but the 
 thought of the unaccomplished task, and the vi 
 sion of the unapproached goal, still so far off, 
 greatly depressed him. 
 
 Impey wrapped around Ai his warm cloak, af 
 ter one of his fevers which left him cold and 
 exhausted. It was the day he celebrated his half 
 century's work as a bishop. But Ai could not 
 look upon it with any degree of enthusiasm ; in 
 deed it seemed to him a sort of failure as a work, 
 although he admitted it was fair for a beginning. 
 
 "Come, come," said Impey, trying to rouse 
 him up, " you must not be so modest ; you must 
 19 289
 
 be willing to acknowledge the good you have done 
 and be as fair toward yourself as you have univers 
 ally been to others." He then tried to recall the 
 past, and compare it with the present. He asked 
 Ai to try and remember, if he could, the wretched 
 hovels, and compare them with the comfortable 
 homes which have replaced them ; how those whole 
 sections once known as the slums, have been re 
 built, and reformed in every way. 
 
 ''All but Minster Street," the bishop inter 
 jected. 
 
 "Yes," said Irhpey, " there is a strangeness 
 about this, grim in the extreme ; you have given 
 every one else new homes, and clean streets, and 
 good drainage, but you have not succeeded in giv 
 ing them to yourself. It is about the only wretched 
 street left." 
 
 " The laws, the laws, you forget those home 
 stead laws," interjected Ai. 
 
 ' ' Possibly you did not try for yourself so hard 
 as you worked for others." 
 
 "Yes," replied Ai, " I had the price of the 
 property, but I needed an equal sum for costs, so 
 I let the matter rest." 
 
 Impey then tried to show him a silver lining, in 
 the decay of strife among well meaning people, 
 and in the universal coming together on some com 
 mon basis of brotherhood. " The brethren do 
 290
 
 not devour one another since you have taught them 
 the duty of kindness toward animals." At this Ai 
 laughed, and petted his great cat which had nestled 
 on the edge of his cloak. 
 
 " Have I not," said Impey, "seen a bishop and 
 a venerable Hebrew, arm in arm, going along the 
 streets, seeing who could be the kindest? This 
 seems to be the vision of a brotherhood." Impey 
 intended this for a pleasantry, but it was a miscar 
 riage. The old bishop looked up at the little loco 
 motive upon the shelf, and then closed his eyes, 
 and rested his head aside a case of books. Impey 
 saw he had invaded memories. 
 
 " One can now read the papers and pass them 
 on to friends this seems to me an advance. By 
 the way, that glass case of Poe's is to have a place 
 in the Historical Rooms, and Poe's children have 
 lived to see their father honored." 
 
 Impey then passed in review the days when in 
 toxicating liquors were sold on the corners of 
 streets publicly like bread. And the state legal 
 ized it, as it had in another age still farther back, 
 the burning of witches. The grocery now took 
 the place of the saloon, and in consequence men 
 had more money for food, and more brain and 
 energy for work, which brought still more money 
 and greater comforts and even luxuries. He also 
 recalled how with the saloon went a great deal of 
 291
 
 the business of the courts, there was less strife and 
 fewer misfortunes, and this brought about a decline 
 of food for nourishing this legal stomach. 
 
 Here Ai corrected his reasoning, and rather 
 thought that it was on account of the enactment of 
 sane laws that fewer litigations took place. There 
 were no conflicting laws to unravel thanks to 
 Judge Rue. 
 
 "And there you have another phenomenon," 
 pleasantly added Impey. He then went on, 
 "Have we not seen a general leveling in society, 
 a leveling down and a leveling up ; have we not 
 seen the rich cease their patronizing, and the poor 
 refusing to be patronized, but simply wanting their 
 just rights ; have we not seen capital shake hands 
 with hard rough labor, and both acknowledge that 
 they were mutually dependent upon one another ; 
 has not the spirit of Midas and his plan of profit 
 sharing taken root and permeated the whole fabric 
 of society ? " 
 
 As he spoke, Impey's face glowed with excite 
 ment, and he seemed as one having a vision. He 
 laid his hand upon Ai's shoulder and tried to rouse 
 him to a realization of the import of these 
 changes. " And best of all," added he, " have 
 I not seen an unassuming man, a follower of the 
 Nazarene, so living as not to belie his calling? " 
 The bishop was stirred by these reminders, and 
 292
 
 appeared to grow brighter and stronger. He 
 reached over to the mantel for his shepherd's 
 crook, which in his increasing years he constantly 
 used while walking the streets. He raised himself 
 and walked up and down the room, touching his 
 books as if they were old friends, and straight 
 ening the pictures on the wall. 
 
 "And the diamonds," continued Impey, as he 
 caught sight of the crook ; " those empty holes in 
 the crook have told their tale of charity and kind 
 liness, such a life would seem worth living." 
 
 Ai paused before a picture of an Easter Dawn, 
 and he said he seemed to see light in the distance, 
 in the distance, he modestly repeated. 
 
 "Just laws, a wholesome press, and a kindly 
 heart, these," said Impey, " were seen in your 
 young vision, and their realization is at hand. 
 Has not your leadership become infectious? Think 
 of the possibilities growing out of such a home as 
 Enid Burr's. Have you not emphasized the home 
 life, and given a comfortable home to everybody 
 but yourself? No, not in the distance; " laying 
 his hand on Ai's shoulder; " you who have seen 
 the day of just laws, a just administration of them, 
 a wholesome press, and a cessation of man's in 
 humanity to man, have seen the realization of a 
 glorious vision indeed." 
 
 Ai, however, had miscalculated his strength, and 
 2 93
 
 soon sat down again, and fell into a tired sleep. 
 Impey laid him upon the bed in the little alcove, 
 and placed the crook beside him, to rap when 
 necessary. He then lay down upon the rugs. 
 When he arose, he looked into the alcove. The 
 shepherd's crook seemed to have fallen, for it lay 
 tightly clasped in the arm of the bishop, whose 
 face was bright with the light of a new day. 
 
 There never was such a demonstration of uni 
 versal love and sorrow, as Ai's death called forth. 
 It permeated all classes, non-religionists and re 
 ligionists, of every name, who came to do him 
 honor. 
 
 The Presbyterians came because they admired 
 his learning and scholarship. The Methodists did 
 him honor because of his zeal and the enthusiasm 
 with which he carried on his work. The Baptists 
 loved him because he never berated them, and 
 seemed to see much good in them. The Roman 
 ists said he was a gentleman, and never had his 
 fling at the Pope and at the Irish. Indeed some 
 fondly hoped to show some day, that lie was Irish 
 himself. The Lutherans liked him because he 
 spoke in terms of admiration of the courage of 
 Luther, in the face of bigotry and arbitrary power. 
 The Unitarians maintained he was bright and in 
 telligent, and scientific in his methods in searching 
 for truths ; such a man was really one of them- 
 294
 
 selves, although he might not say so, might not 
 even know it ; he had a happy, precious thought 
 that no man nor class of men had a monopoly of 
 truth. The Hebrews had a great respect for him 
 because of his humanitarian spirit, and because he 
 chose as his example a young carpenter. a Jew, 
 and was so careful lest he should caricature him. 
 The Friends loved him because he was a man of 
 peace; and greatly respected him because he was 
 always armed for uncompromising warfare upon 
 wrong and injustice. He was beloved by all 
 Churchmen because he was faithful to his work, 
 stood by the hard workers among the clergy, ob 
 served all the proprieties, said his private prayers 
 at a priedieu, and wore a purple cassock. 
 
 All these followed the procession as it came out 
 of the narrow Minster Street, and proceeded to 
 the row of graves where he was laid in common 
 with the poor and the unknown. Impey carried a 
 processional cross. He could give no particular 
 reason for it, only Ai had loved it, and it seemed 
 to be a symbol of the crucifixion which this saviour 
 of men underwent every day. While at the grave, 
 Impey read a few sentences from the Koran, all to 
 himself. 
 
 Ai had few possessions ; his only will was this : 
 "I give my personal effects to Israel Impey, my 
 lifelong friend, who will lay me away in common 
 2 95
 
 with other men the poor, the known, and the 
 unknown, to whom I am brother. Plant no flowers 
 and sow no seeds; if I am worthy, the winds will 
 bring the seeds, and the birds will aid them." 
 
 And so he was buried. There is no headstone ; 
 but the grave is known by a well-worn path lead 
 ing up to it. Almost any hour you will find some 
 one there ; and going away they say, " There lies 
 a man." 
 
 The truth so beautifully exemplified in his life 
 will live. The true meaning of brotherhood will 
 be better understood. He demonstrated how all 
 may do good to all, being involved in ihe same 
 problems; no one having a right to speak down, 
 without conceding the right to speak up. Those 
 in a condition of servitude to poverty, and those 
 in a condition of servitude to money, must be 
 brought face to face for emancipation, that they 
 may free each other as they free themselves. It 
 was as a fifth gospel to him, that he who would re 
 generate society must first regenerate himself, and 
 then his virtues must act as a contagion acts, by 
 contact man with man. 
 
 THE END. 
 296
 
 'TpHE author would like a suggestive 
 illustration for each page of this book. 
 He would deem it a favor if the reader 
 were to send or suggest a picture seen 
 anywhere in periodical, book or print, 
 illustrating a thought or situation on 
 any page, noting the page it is to illus 
 trate and where the picture can be 
 seen. 
 
 Every such kindness will be appreci 
 ated. Address 
 
 CHAS. DANIEL, 
 
 2006 N. agth Street, 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa.
 
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