Bellefonte, Pa., May 25. 1900.
Be
ROBERT HARDY’S SEVEN DAYS.
A Dream and Its Consequences.
BY REV, CHARLES SHELDON.
Author of “In His Steps.” “The Crucirixion of Philip
Strong,” Malcolm Kirk,” Ete.
(Copyright, 1900, by Advance Publishing Co.)
(BEGUN IN No. 12, marcH £3, 1900.)
oem
monster mass meeting in the town hall
for the benefit of the sufferers, both in
the railroad accident and in the explo-
sion of the Sunday before in the shops.
gt was true the company would settle
for damages, but in many cases
through Barton the adjustment of
claims would not be made until much
suffering and hardship had been en-
dured.
There was a common feeling on the
part of the townspeople that a meet-
ing for public conference would result
in much good, and there was also, as
has been the case in other large hor
rors, a craving to relieve the strain of
feeling by public gathering and con-
sultation.
“Can you come out to the meeting,
Hardy?” asked his friend.
Mr. Hardy thought a minute and re-
plied, “Yes; I think I can.” Already
an idea had taken shape in his mind
which he could not help feeling was
inspired by God.
“Might be a good thing if you could
come prepared to make some remarks.
I find there is a disposition on the part
of the public to charge the road with
carelessness and mismanagement.”
“I'll say a word or two,” replied Mr.
Hardy, and after a brief talk on busi-
ness matters his friend went cut.
Robert immediately sat down to his
desk, and for an hour, interrupted on-
ly by an occasional item cf business
brought to him by his secretary, he jot-
ted down copious notes. The thought
which had come to hima +twhen his
friend suggested the meeting was this:
He would go and utter a message that
burned within him, a message which
the events of the past few days made
imperative should be uttered. He went
home absorbed in the great idea. He
had once in his younger days been fa-
mous for his skill in debate. He had
no fear of his power to deliver a mes-
sage of life at the present crisis in his
own. He at once spoke of the meet-
ing to his wife.
“Mary, what do you say? I know ev-
ery minute is precious. I owe to you
and these dear ones at home a very
sacred duty, but no less, it seems to
me, is my duty to the scciety where 1
have lived all these years, doing literal-
ly nothing for its uplift toward God,
who gave us all life and power. 1 feel
as if he would put a message into my
mouth that would prove a blessing to
this community. It seems to me this
special opportunity is providential.”
“Robert,” replied his wife, smiling at
him through happy tears, “it is the will
of Ged. Do your duty as he makes it
clear to you.”
It had been an agitating week to the
wife. She anticipated its close with a
feeling akin to terror. What would
the end be? She was compelled to say
to Lerself that her husband was not
insane, but the thought that he was
really to be called out of the world in
some mysterious manner at the end of
the rapidly approaching Sunday had
several times come over her with a
power that threatened her ¢wn reason.
Nevertheless the week sc far, in
spite of its terror and agitation, had a
sweet joy for her. Her Lusband had
come back to her, the lover as hie once
had been, only with the added tender-
ness of all the years of their compan-
fonship. She thanked the Father for
it, and when the hour came for Rob-
ert to go down to the meeting she
dlessed him and prayed Lceaven to
make his words to the people like the
words of God.
“Father, what do you want me to
do? Shall I stay here?” asked George,
avho had not stirred out of the house
ali day. He had watched by Clara
faithfully. She was stili in that mys-
terious condition of unccnscicusness
«which made her case so puzzling to the
doctor.
Mr. Hardy hesitated a ixoment, then
said: “No, George. 1 weculd like to
have you go with me. Alice can do all
that is necessary. But let us all pray
together now before we go out. The
Lord is leading us mysteriously, but
we shall some time know the reason
why.”
So in the room where Clara lay they
all kneeled down except Will, who lay
upon & lounge near his uncoascious
sister. Mr. Hardy as he clasped his
wife's hand in his own poured out bis
soul in this petition:
“Dear Lord, we know thou dost love
us, even though we cannot always
know why thou dost allow suifering
and trouble, and we would thank thee
for the things that cannot be destroy:
ed, for the loves that canpot suffer
death, for the wonderful promises of
the life to coine. Only we have been
so careless of the things that belong to
thy kingdom. We have been so selfish
and forgetful of the great needs and
sufferings and sins of earth. Pardon
us, gracious Redeemer. Pardon me,
for 1 am the chief offender. Yea, Lord,
even as the robber on the cross was
welcomed into paradise, welcome thou
me. But we pray for our dear ones.
May they recover. Make this beloved
one who now lies unknowing among
us to come back into the universe of
sense and sound, to know us and smile
upon us again.
“We say, ‘Thy will be done.” Grand
wisdom, for thou knowest best. Ouly
our hearts will ery out for help. and
thou knowest our hearts better than
any one else. Bless me this night as 1
stand before the people. This is no
selfish prayer, dear Lord. I desire only
thy glory; I pray only for thy kingdom.
But thou hast appointed my days to
live. Thou hast sent me the message,
and 1 cannot help feeling the solemn
burden and joy of it.
“I will say to the people that thon
art most important of all in this habi-
tation of the flesh. And now bless us
all. Give us new hearts. Make us to
feel the true meaning of existence
here. Reveal to us thy splendor. For-
givé all the past and make impossible
in the children the mistakes of the par-
ent. Deliver us from evil, and thine
shall lie the kingdom forever. Amen.”
When Mr. Hardy and George reach.
ed the town hall. they found a large
crowd gathering. They had some difli-
culty in gaining entrance. Mr. Hardy
at once passed up to the platform,
where thes chairman of the meeting
greeted him and said he would expect
him to maké some remarks during the
evening.
Robert sat down at one end of the
platform and watched the hall fill with
people, nearly all well known to him.
There was an unusually large crowd
of boys and young men, besides a large
gathering of his own men from the
shops, together with a great number of
citizens and business men, a repre-
sentative audience for the place,
brought together under the influence
of ‘he disaster and feeling somewhat
the breaking downiof artificial social
distinctions in the presence of the grim
leveler Death, who had come so near to
them the last few days.
There were the usual opening exer-
cises common to such public gather-
ings. Several well known business
men and two or three of the ministers,
including Mr. Jones, made appropriate
addresses. The attention of the great
audience was not labored for, the oc-
casion itself being enough to throw
over the people the spell of subdued
quiet.
When the chairman announced that
“Mr. Robert Hardy, our well known
railroad manager, will now address
us,” there was a movement of curiosi-
ty and some surprise, and many a man
leaned forward and wondered in his
heart what the wealthy railroad man
would have to say on such an occasion.
He had never appeared as a speaker
in public, and he passed generally ir
Barton for the cold, selfish, haughty
man he had always been.
CHAPTER X.
Mr. Hardy began in a low, clear tone:
* “Men and Women of DBarton—To-
night I am not the man you have
known me these 25 years 1 have been
among you. I am, by the grace of God,
a new creature. As 1 stand here |
have no greater desire in my heart
than to say what may prove to Le a
blessing to all my old townspeople and
lo my employees and to these strong
young men and boys. Within a few
short days God has shown me the seli-
ishness of a human being’s heart, and
that heart was my own, and it is with
feelings none of you can ever know
that I look into your faces and say
these words.”
Robert paused a moment as if gath-
ering himself up for the effort that fol-
lowed, and the audience, startled with
an unexpected emotion by the strange
beginning, thrilled with excitement, as,
lifting bis arm and raising his voice,
the once cold and proud man contin-
ued, his face and form glowing with
the transfiguration of a new manhood:
“There is but one supreme law in
this world, and it is this: Love God and
your neighbor with heart, mind, soul,
strength. And there are but two things
worth living for: The glory of God and
the salvation of man. Tonight I, who
look into eternity in a sense which I
will not stop to explain, feel the bit-
terness which comes from the knowl-
edge that I have broken that law and
have not lived for those things which
alone are worth living for.
“But God has sent me here tonight
with a message to the people which my
heart must deliver. It is a duty even
more sacred in some ways than what
I owe to my own kindred. I am aware
that the hearts of the people are shock-
ed into numbness by the recent horror.
I know that more than one bleeding
heart is in this house, and the shadow
of the last enemy has fallen over many
thresholds in our town. What! Did
I not enter into the valley of the shad-
ow of death myself as I stumbled over
the ghastly ruins of that wreck, my
soul torn in twain for the love of three
of my own dear children? Do 1 not
sympathize in full with all those who
bitterly weep and lament and sit in
blackness of horror this night? Yea,
but, men of Barton, why is it that we
are so moved, so stirred, so shocked, by
the event of death when the far more
awful event of life does not disturb us
in the least?
“We shudder with terror. we lose
our accustomed pride or indifference,
we speak in whispers, and we tread
softly in the presence of the visiter
who smites but once and then smites
the body only. but in the awful pres-
ence of the living image of God we go
our ways careless, indifferent, cold.
passionless, selfish.
“I know whereof 1 speak, for I have
walked through the world like that my-
self. And yet death cannot be com-
pared for one moment with life for
majesty, for solemnity, for meaning,
for power. There were 75 persons kill-
ed in the accident. Dut in the papers
this morning I read in the column next
to that in which the accident was
paraded in small type and in the brief-
est of paragraphs the statement that
a certain young man in this very town
of ours had been arrested for forging
his father's name on a check and was
in the grasp of the law.
“And every day in this town and in
every town all over the world events
like that and worse than that are of
frequent occurrence. Nay, in this very
town of ours more than 75 souls are at
this very moment going down into a
far blacker hell of destruction than the
one down there under that fated
bridge, and the community is not hor-
rified over it. How many mass meet-
ings have been held in this town with-
in the last 25 years over the losses of
character, the aeatn of purity. the de-
struction of honesty? Yet they have
outnumbered the victims of this late
physical disaster a thousandfold.
“And what does mere death do? It
releases the spirit from its house of
earth, but aside from that death does
nothing to the person. But what does
life do? Life does everything. It pre-
pares for heaven or for hell. It starts
impulses, molds character, fixes char-
acter. Death has no kingdom without
and. Death is only the last enemy of
the many ecuemies that life knows.
Death is a second; life is an eternity.
O men, brothers, if, as I solemnly and
truly believe, this is the last opportu-
nity I shall have to speak to you in
such large numbers, I desire you to
remember, when I have vanished from
your sight, that I spent nearly my last
breath in an appeal to you to make
the most of daily life, to glorify God
and save men.
“The greatest enemy of man is not
death; it is selfishness. He sits on the
throne of the éntire world. This very
disaster which has filled the town with
sorrow was due to selfishness. Let us
see if that is not so. It has been prov-
ed by investigation already made that
the drunkenness of a track inspector
was the cause of the accident. What
was the cause of that drunkenness?
The drinking habits of that inspector.
How did he acquire them? In a sa-
loon which we taxpayers allow to run
on payment of a certain sum of money
into our own treasury.
“So, then, it was the greed or selfish-
ness of the men of this town which
lies at the bottom of this dreadful dis-
aster. Who was to blame for the dis-
aster? The track inspector? No. The
saloon keeper who sold him the liquor?
No. Who then? We ourselves, my
brothers; we who licensed the selling
of the stuff which turned a man’s brain
into liquid fire and smote his judg-
ment and reason with a brand from
out the burning pit.
“If I had stumbled upon the three
corpses of my own children night be-
fore last, I could have exclaimed in
justice before the face of God, ‘I have
murdered my own children,’ for I was
one of the men of Barton to vote for
the license which made possible the
drunkenness of the man in whose care
were placed hundreds of lives.
“For what is the history of this case?
Who was this wretched track in-
spector? A man who, to my own
knowledge, trembled before tempta-
tion; who, on the testimony of the fore-
man at the shops, was and always had
been a sober man up to the time when
we as a municipality voted to replace
he system of no license with the sa-
loon for the sake of .what we thought
was a necessary revenue. This man
had no great temptation to drink wliile
the saloon was out of the way. Its
very absence was his salvation. But
its public open return confronted his
appetite once more, and he yielded and
fell.
“Who says he was to blame? Who
are the real criminals in the case? We
ourselves, citizens; we who, for the
greed of gain, for the saving of that
which has destroyed more souls in hell
than any other one thing, made possi-
ble the causes which led to the grief
and trouble of this hour. Would we
not shrink in terror from the thought
of lying in wait to kill a man? Would
we not repel with holy horror the idea
of murdering and maiming 75 people?
We would say ‘Impossible! Yet when
I am ushered at last into the majestic
presence of Almighty God I feel con-
vinced I shall see in his righteous
countenance the sentence of our con-
demnation just as certainly as if we
had gone out in a body and by wicked
craft had torn out the supporting tim-
bers of that bridge just before the
train thundered upon it, for did we
not sanction by law a business which
we know tempts men to break all the
laws, which fills our jails and poor-
houses, our reformatories and asylums,
which breaks women’s hearts and beg-
gars blessed homes and sends innocent
children to thread the paths of shame
and vagrancy, which brings paller into
the face of the wife and tosses with
the devil’s own glee a thousand vic-
tims into perdition with every revolu-
tion of this great planet about its
greater sun?
“Men of Barton, say what we will,
we are the authors of this dreadful dis-
aster. And if we sorrow as a com-
munity we sorrow in reality for our
own selfish act. And, oh, the selfish-
ness of it! That clamoring greed for
money! That burning thirst for more
and more and more at the expense of
every godlike quality, at the ruin of all
that our mothers once prayed might
belong to us as men and women!
“What is it. ye merchants, ye busi-
ness men, here tonight that ye struggle
most over? The one great aim of your
lives is to buy for as little as possible
and sell for as much as possible. What
care have ye for the poor. who work at
worse than starvation wages, so long
as ye can buy cheap and sell at large
profits? What is the highest aim of
us railroad men in the great whirl of
commercial competition which seecthes
and boils and surges about this earth
lite another atmosphere, plainly visi-
ble to the devils of other worlds?
“What is our aim but to make money
our god and power our throne? How
much caie or love is there for flesh and
blood at times when there is danger of
losing almighty dollars? But, O Al-
mighty Saviour, it was not for this
that we were made! We know it was
not.
“To whom am I speaking? To my-
self. God forbid that I should stand
here to condemn you, being myself the
chief of sinners for these 25 years.
What have 1 done to bless this com-
munity? [low much have I cared for
the men in my employ? What differ-
ence did it make to me that my exam-
ple drove men away from the church
of Christ and caused anguish to those
few souls who were trying to redeem
humanity? To my just shame I make
answer that no one thing has driven
the engine of my existence over ine
track of its destiny except self. And.
oh, for that church of Christ that 1
professed to believe in! How much
have I done for that? How much. O
fellow members (and I see many of
you here tonight), how much have we
done in the best cause ever known and
the greatest organization ever found-
ed?
“We go to church after reading the
Sunday morning paper, saturated
through and through with the same
things we have had poured into us ev-
ery day of the week, as if we begrudg-
ed the whole of one day out of seven.
We criticise prayer and hymn and ser-
mon, drop into the contribution box
half the amount we paid during the
week for a theater or concert ticket
and then when anything goes wrong in
the community or our children fall into
vice scorn the church for weakness and
the preacher for lack of ability.
“Shame on us, men of Barton, mem-
bers of the church of Christ, that we
have so neglected our own church
prayer meeting that out of a resident
membership of more than 400, living in
easy distance of the church, only GO
have attended regularly and over 200
have been to that service occasionally.
Yet we call ourselves disciples of
Christ! We say we believe in his bless-
ed teachings; we say we believe in
prayer, and in the face of all these
professions we turn our backs with in-
difference on the very means of spir-
itual growth and power which the
church places within our reach.
“If Christ were to come to the earth
today, he would say unto us, ‘Woe un-
to you, church members, hypocrites!”
He would say unto us, ‘Woe unto you,
young disciples in name, who have
promised to love and serve me and
then, ashamed of testifying before me,
have broken promise and prayer and
ridicule those who have kept their
vows sacredly!” He would say to us
men who have made money and kept it
to ourselves: ‘Woe unto you, ye rich
men, who dress softly and dine lux-
uriously and live in palaces, while the
poor cry aloud for judgment and the
laborer sweats for the luxury of the
idle! Woe unto you who speculate in
flesh and blood and call no man broth-
er unless he lives in as fine a house and
has as much money in the bank!
(CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.)
Lightning on Wheels.
If “Time is Money,” the New Chicago-Portland
S‘Special” Saves the Traveling Public Millions a
Year. :
“Millions for an inch of time !”’ gasped
England’s great virgin Queen, as her im-
perious soul hung hovering on the border-
line between two worlds. A clock-tick of
time is all that divides life in full flush
from pallid death. The fate of individuals
and of empires often hangs upon a moment.
‘Time is money,’ is a Poor-Richard-ish
condensation of all materialistic philosophy
in three words.
Never since ‘‘the evening and the morn-
ing were the first day,” was time so valu-
able as in this age of steam and electricity,
of mighty undertakings, and gigantic ac-
tivities. In all the world’s busy centers
of trade and finance, minutes are bank-
able wealth, and fortunes may de-
pend upon a trifling difference in watches.
If he is blessed ‘‘who makes two blades of
grass grow where one grew before,” how
infinitely more worthy of blessing must be
the agency that yields to men or nations
two hours, or days, or years, or centuries
of extra time for every one possessed be-
fore!
And this is just what the Oregon Rail-
road & Navigation Compan y has done and
is doing with its new and superb flyers be-
tween Portland and Chicago, between ti »
Northwest and the East. Take your pen-
cil and do a little figuring.
The fastest regular train that ever cross-
ed the continent up to April 22nd, 1900,
took 83 hours and 30 minutes to go from
Portland to Chicago. Now, the magnifi-
cent ‘‘Chicago-Portland Special’? makes
the 2314-mile trip in 72 hours and 15 min-
utes. That is a saving of 11} hours of
time to every passenger. Say thas, includ-
ing both east and westbound travel hy all
routes, 400,000 people cross the continent
in a year—and that is an under, rather
than over, estimate. Theaggregate saving
of time would be 4,500,000 hours. That
is 513 years, 8 months, and 20 days—or,
counting 10 hours as a business or working
day, 1232 years, 10 months and 20 days—
of time saved in a single year by one grand
change of railroad schedule !
Nor is that all. It is scarcely a start in
the marvelous mathematics. The 800,000
24-hour days give a total of 19,200,000
hours. Computing the working day, as
before, at 10 hours, this would be 1,920,-
000 days, or 5230 years, 3 months and 10
days—according to orthodox chronology,
nearly all time since the Creator leaned
the wet-clay Adam up against the fence of
Paradise to dry—saved to the busy, rush-
ing public in one year of transcontinental
travel !
And the saving is accomplished with
every imaginable concomitant of comfort
and convenience. An invalid, a lady or a
child may now start upon the long trans-
continental journey without a moment's
fear or hesitation. It is simply a flying
holiday without a jolt or a jar, and sur-
rounded with all the accessories of luxur-
ious ease, while the scenic grandeurs and
glories of half a hemisphere are whirled
before the traveling picnicker’s enchanted
eyes. The scenery includes, in one vast,
majestic panorama, all that is wild, sub-
lime and beautiful in mountain and
stream, crag, cataract and cascade, sky
scraping forest, lonely desert and horizon-
hounded plain.
And the train would dumbfound the gor-
geous old romancers of ‘‘The Arabian
Nights.”” It is a whole city of palaces,
with parlors and drawing rooms, slumber-
chambers, banquet halls, cafes, barber
shops, baths; libraries and writing rooms
—all resplendent with gilding and carving
and tapestry, and radiant asa thousand
meteors with gas or electric lights—flying
40 miles an hour—swifter than any wind
short of a cyclone—over spaces vaster than
the known world of Haroun al Raschid and
Aladdin, or Hesiod and Homer. From
120-ton engine to the last day coach, the
whole train is first-class, and yet second
class passengers are carried at second class
rates. It is the model among all transcon-
tinental trains — this ‘‘Chicago-Portland
Special’ of the Oregon Railroad & Naviga-
tion Company—and its time is unrivaled !
Think of 52 centuries saved in a single
year! P. DONAN.
‘I guess that’ll do,’’ said William Jud-
son, last year’s candidate for village Pres-
ident, and consequently this year running
for one of the trusteeships. ‘‘Most of them
hidebound partisans would rather vote for
Beelzebub than for a Democrat, anyway.’
“We're Beelzebubs for them, all right,’
put in the candidate for collector, begin-
ning to see visions of many fees.
And the visions became realities, for
the scheme worked and the day after elec-
tion saw the prohibitionists in the board
of the republican village of Russellton.
‘‘Guess they can’t do much harm,’’ said
Solomon Wallace, disdainfully sniffing the
air on the piazza at the American house.
“Town’s voted no license for everything
‘cept the hotels, and I guess they’ll have
trouble shutting up the drug stores. If
some empty offices satisfies ’em, all right.
The first meeting of the reform hoard of
trustees was a decided event. The wom-
en’s temperance board, of which Mrs. Silas
Long was president, sent a beautiful floral
‘‘tribute,’’ as the florist called it, in the
shape of a star, with the words ‘‘At Last”
in blue immortelles across the front. In
addition, there was a delegation from the
temperance band present, headed by Mrs.
Long, to wish the new board God-speed in
its work, and to present a written address
embodying their hopes for the future of
the cause of purity and light.
The address having been presented, the
delegates from the temperance board with-
drew to go to the Central church, where
that evening there was to be a special
praise service for the hoard to return
thanks for the victory that had been vouch-
safed for them.
Then Trustee Long arose, locked at his
two co-workers, produced from an inside
pocket a carefully written roll of manu-
script, and said :
“Mr. President—I offer the following
resolution :
“Whereas, It is a matter of common
knowledge that the rum traffic is going on
daily among us, in violation of the law ;
and
“Whereas, It is a matter of common
knowledge that many places of business,
especially the drug stores, are trafficking
daily, sometimes on the strength of alleg-
ed physicians’ certificates, and sometimes
without, one such certificate having al-
ready, according to common report, been
used by forty-seven different people ; there-
fore,
‘Resolved, That hereafter each week the
druggists be compelled to furnish to the
village clerk full lists of all quantities of
liquor sold by them, in what quantity and
for what purpose, such lists to be printed
weekly in the Russellton Courier.”
And Mr. Long sat down, modestly bow-
ing to the applause of his conferees on the
board.
“Look here, Long,’’ began President
Jackson, president by compromise, ‘‘that
won’t do. You said before election that
you would pass all our measures.”
“That wasn’t saying we wouldn’t pass
any of our own,” said Mr. Long, and the
resolution was carried by the narrow ma-
jority of the prohibition vote.
The ante-election excitement was noth-
ing to the storm the news of the passage of
the resolution raised, though. Perhaps
the internal seething of a volcano would
furnish a better simile for the respectable
citizens of the town, who had been in the
habit of purchasing sundry remedies for
the purpose of curing colds with great
regularity, were afraid to give voice to their
sentiments for fear of creating suspicion.
And so Mr. Long went about his daily
tasks, unmoved by the unspoken anathe-
mas heaped upon his head and comforted
in the knowledge that at last he had been
enabled to strike a blow against the dead-
ly rum traffic.
One man in Russelton was untroubled,
Bill Todd, who, with one or two similar
shining lights of intemperance, posed as a
horrible example, worried not a bit over
the new law. Having spent somewhat
more than half of the past fifteen years in
the village lock-up for offenses growing out
of his inordinate thirst, the mere printing
of his name in the weekly Palladium had
no terrors for him. On general principles,
however, he shared in the general feeling
against Mr. Long and, being of a decided-
ly original mind, he decided upon revenge.
“I'll make old Long sick,” he said, and
he confided his plan to Mr. Jackson, presi-
dent of the board, and his one friend in the
village. Mr. Jackson lent an eager ear
and therefore might have heen seen in one
of the drug stores in earnest conversation
with its proprietor.
Two days after the conversation between
the druggist and the merchant Tcdd’s old-
est daughter opened the door of the shanty
where Todd lived and hailed Mr. Long as
he passed on his way to town.
“*Pa’s awful sick,’’ she said, ‘‘and Jim-
my’s gore to school and the doctor came
this morning and said pa’d have to get his
priseription. I'm all alone and I'd like to
know if you would get it for me at Bow-
yer’s drug store and bring it when you
come along back for dinner.”
“Why certainly.”” was Mr. Long’s
hearty answer. Mr. Long was noted in
town for his kindness and consideration
for the want of others. ‘‘Is your pa much
sick 2”?
‘No, not much, but the doctor said he’d
have to have the medicine.”
‘‘Say,”” put in Mr. Long, asa horrible
suspicion crossed his mind, ‘‘your pa ain't
sick because of overindlugence in the worm
that destroys, is he? Because if he is, you
know that I'd let him die before I'd help
him. That is. perhaps I wouldn't let him
die, but I'd let him get mighty sick betore
I’d help him get better.”’
If Mr. Long had had sharp ears he might
have heard a chuckle from within, and if
he had sharp eyes he might have seen the
girl make a motion for silence with one
hand, but in his innocence he saw nothing
of the kind. Only the sick man was before
his eyes and he took the prescription with-
out fear.
The druggist took the prescription, look-
ed at it, yawned carelessly and said : ‘All
right, Mr. Long, I'll have it for you when
you start back for dinner. It'll take some
time to mix.”’
When Mr. Long had gone he laughed
out loud, then called his clerk, who like-
wise laughed out loud. Then he went to
the back room, poured one pint of a suspi-
cious looking mixture into an innocent
looking bottle, wrapped it in a paper and
laid It aside for Mr. Long.
The next week's issue of the Weekly Pal-
ladium had his name standing at the head
of its weekly list of purchasers at the drug
store.
Charles W. Long, ons pint of whiskey, on
prescription for Bill Todd.”
Mr. Long could never make a satisfactory
explanation, and his infuriated co-workers
in the prohibition party made matters so
uncomfortable for him that in a fit of sud-
den frenzy be *‘flopped’’ to the republican
party. He now says the prohibitionists are
a set of cranks, and haven’t any more right
to win an election than a southern fire-
eater.— Brooklyn Eaale.
——-Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.
In Explanation.
Yes, I'm the fam’ly baby,
And oh, the day I came
They did the greatest talking,
A-finding me a name!
For sister wanted Ethel,
And brother Bess or Nan,
While Auntie favored Winifred
And grandma Hester Ann.
They did the greatest talking !
But father, when "twas through,
Just called me after mother, dear,
And so I'm little Sue.
—Judge.
DEFEAT IN VICTORY.
Politically Russellton was stirred from
top to bottom. Around the fire in every
grocery store, down at the blacksmith shop
and in the office of the American house
earnest groups of men discussed the situa-
tion.
“I never heard of such a thing,” said
Solomon Wallace, by virtue of his years
and the fact that he owned four farms, en-
titled to express his opinion on any topic
under the sun. “The idea that the Re-
publican party of Russellton can’t have
anybody to vote for at the village election.
That there Frederick Hannan ought to he
rode out of this town on a rail, that’s what
he bad, and I’ll help,”’ and Mr Wallace
thumped on the floor violently with his
cane and glared ferociously at his auditors.
*‘That’s right, that’s right, derned if it
ain’t,”” said the proprietor of the American
house, leaning over the desk and pounding
on the register with emphasis. Mr. Bridger
had learned from experience that cheerful
agreement with the views expressed hy
Solomon Wallace was quite sure to add to
the profits of the bar before the daily even-
Ing session of the wiseacres that nightly
congregated in the hotel was over. :
_ ““What excuse does Hannan give ?”’ put
in another one of the charmed circle of
graybeards.
“Don’t give none, ’xcept that he clean
forgot it and Bell says that he was so busy
that day that he didn’t think nothing at
all about it and Hod Wilson says there's
no way to get around it. The nominations
wan’ filed and the day’s past and we can
Just vote for Democrats or not vote at all,’’
and Wallace paused for breath.
‘Might vote for Prohibitionists,’” put in
aman behind the stove. ‘“They’ve nomi-
nated the same old gang again, one year
Long for trustee and Johnson for village
clerk and next year Johnson for trustee and
Long for village clerk and neither of ’em
with more show for election than a Repub-
lican in South Carolina.’
“Well, I'm goin’ home; I'm just clean
sick, that’s what,’’ was the answer of Wal-
lace, the ancient. “I’ve been a Republi-
can for forty years, summer 'n’ winter,and
I didn’t ever think that I'd have to vote
for a dimmyerat 'r not vote at all.”’
‘Guess I'll have to have a little soothin’
before I go,”’ he added, turning to Mr.
Bridger, who in respOnse led the way
through a narrow hall into the sample
room of the American house, by which
name the apartment devoted to the hotel
bar was euphemistically known.
The men thus cruelly left hehind look-
ed longingly after the departing Croesus,
but they saw nothing more inviting than
a broad back and one by one they filed
slowly out into the night. :
Later in the evening Frederick Hannan,
secretary of the village committee of the
Republican party, dropped into the hotel
to talk the matter over with Mr. Bridger.
The last lounger had gone, and the proprietor
of the American house was preparing to
shut up for the night. Hannan was de-
voutly thankful for the empty office. He
had during the day been the recipient of
so many frank expressions of opinion from
his enraged fellow citizens that he shrank
from meeting any more of them.
“How d’ye come to do it, Fred?’ said
Mr. Bridger, offering a very black and
powerful-looking cigar from a fly-specked
box. Mr. Hannan took one and the hox
was returned to its hiding place under the
counter. ‘‘Keep ’em for my friends,” add-
ed Mr. Bridger, biting the end from one
himself and feeling in his pocket for a
match.
“Lord only knows,’’ said the disconso-
late Hannan. ‘‘You see the law says that
the nominations for offices must be filed
within ten days after making. Statute in
such case made and provided.”” Mr. Han-
nan was a justice of the peace and prided
himself on his legal knowledge. “Well,
the day after the nominations were made I
had to go down to Edwardsville, long ©’
my brother's wife dying, and didn’t get
back for nine days, though expecting every
day there would be the last. Then ves-
terday, when I did get back that dog case
from Rodman come up, and I clean forgot
all about it. And that is the whole story, ”’
and the politically-ruined Hannan puffed
moodily at the cigar and gazed at the stove.
“The boys are very mad about it, and
that’s no mistake,’ was the comforting
answer of the landlord. ‘‘Old Wallace was
in here to-night sayin’ he'd help ride you
out of town on a rail.”’ :
““He’s awfully set in his politics,” he
added. ‘‘He’s voted the straight ticket for
forty years now, and calculated to vote
straight every election until he died. And
now you’ve gone and broke his record for
him.”’
Hannan’s only answer was a shudder as
he thought of his impending fate. “I guess
I'll be going,’’ he said.
But to the hearts of Silas Long and his
faithful associates the news which had so
powerfully affected Solomon Wallace
brought the first gleam of joy that had been
theirs for long, long years. Year after year
the Prohibition party in Russellton had
with unfailing regularity nominated its
candidates for the village offices, only to
see with unfailing regularity their ticket
hopelessly defeated. Yet they hung to
their principles and consoled themselves
with the thought that if they were fore-
doomed to defeat victory was not less im-
possible to them than to the candidates of
the Democratic party. And now, by the
merest chance, victory seemed at last to he
within their grasp. With no Republican
candidates, with none of the stalwart Re-
publicans willing to vote for a Democrat
under any considerations, why should not
the Prohibitionists candidates win? On
the same night that had brought forward
the righteous anger of Solomon Wallace
and the cold comfort of Hiram Bridger, the
Prohibitionists met in the back room of
Silas Long's harness shop.
“This is the plan,” said Silas Long,
suddenly developing into an astute polit-
ical manager.
‘The election’s for a village President,
four trustees, a clerk and a collector. What
we want is power, and if we can elect three
trustees we’ll bave it. We’ll let our can-
didates for President, clerk and oue trustee
withdraw and then substitute the men the
Republicans name. The law 11 let us sub-
stitute. We'll get three trustees and the
collector and that’ll give us power in the
board and the collector’s fees to Myron
Hastings.” oe 3
‘And those fellows can have the rest,”
he added.