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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31493-h.zip b/31493-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be53bb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31493-h.zip diff --git a/31493-h/31493-h.htm b/31493-h/31493-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc65ca6 --- /dev/null +++ b/31493-h/31493-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3673 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Daughter of a Republican, by Bernie Babcock. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border: none; text-align: right;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .left {text-align: left;} + .tbrk {margin-bottom: 2em;} + .block {margin: auto; text-align: center; width: 25em;} + .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem div {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Daughter of a Republican, by Bernie Babcock + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Daughter of a Republican + +Author: Bernie Babcock + +Release Date: March 3, 2010 [EBook #31493] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAUGHTER OF A REPUBLICAN *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> +A Table of Contents and a List of Illustrations have been added.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE</h2> + +<h1>DAUGHTER</h1> + +<h2>OF A</h2> + +<h1>REPUBLICAN</h1> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>BERNIE BABCOCK</h2> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h4>CHICAGO:</h4> + +<h3>THE NEW VOICE PRESS</h3> + +<h4>1900</h4> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Copyright by<br />Dickie and Woolley<br />1899</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="center"><img src="images/i003a.jpg" width='150' height='53' alt="decoration" /></div> + +<p>The world at large gives small attention to human effort until it has +reached the full stature of a robust maturity.</p> + +<p>By way of encouragement, it is well for many obscure toilers that there +are those who think they see a bud of promise in the yet undeveloped +effort.</p> + +<p>Because of the loving interest she has always taken in my every "first +attempt," I dedicate this little volume to</p> + +<p class="center">MY MOTHER.</p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i003b.jpg" width='150' height='53' alt="decoration" /></div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i004.jpg" width='700' height='549' alt="I'm cold, whined the boy" /></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="CONTENTS"> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td> + <td><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>I.</td> + <td class="left"> THE CROWLEY FAMILY.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>II.</td> + <td class="left"> THE THORNS AT HOME.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>III.</td> + <td class="left"> JEAN THE ABOLITIONIST.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>IV.</td> + <td class="left"> ASLEEP IN JESUS.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>V.</td> + <td class="left"> LESSONS OF AN ELECTION DAY.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VI.</td> + <td class="left"> THE NATION'S DEFENDERS.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VII.</td> + <td class="left"> THE JUDGE MAKES A DISCOVERY.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>VIII.</td> + <td class="left"> "WHAT FOR."</td> + <td><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>IX.</td> + <td class="left"> GILBERT ALLISON HEARS A VOICE.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>X.</td> + <td class="left"> "THE SIN BURDEN."</td> + <td><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>XI.</td> + <td class="left"> AN AWAKENING.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="left"> Section 17 of the Army Act.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS"> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">"'I'm cold,' whined the boy."</td> + <td><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">Give me some, quick!</td> + <td><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">"Vote for Whisky, Boys!"</td> + <td><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">"God," she cried, "Look at my hands!" </td> + <td><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<h1>The Daughter of a Republican.</h1> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE CROWLEY FAMILY.</h3> + +<p>Let me introduce the reader to the Crowley family, and when you have +become acquainted with them bear well in mind that in this broad land of +ours there are thousands upon thousands of families in a condition as +deplorable, and some whose mercury line of debauchery has dropped to a +point of miserable existence as yet unsounded by this family.</p> + +<p>The Crowleys are all in tonight, except the father, and he is +momentarily expected.</p> + +<p>It is a bitter night in February. The ground is covered with ice and +sleet causing many a fall to the unwary pedestrian.</p> + +<p>The wind comes in cutting blasts directly from the north, rattling and +twisting everything in its way not securely fastened, then dying away in +a long weary moan, abandoning its effort only to seize upon the elements +with a firmer grasp and come battling back with fresh vindictiveness and force.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>There were those who did not mind this storm, people around whose homes +all was secure and whom no rattling annoyed, people who enjoyed bright +lights and warm fires, but these were not the Crowleys. The Crowley's +home consisted of two rooms in a rickety old tenement house around which +everything rattled and flapped as the wind raged. Their light came from +a dingy little lamp on a goods box. Every now and then a more violent +gust of wind struck the house with such force that the structure +trembled and the feeble light flickered dangerously.</p> + +<p>Here and there broken windows were stopped up with rags and papers and +through the insecure crevices the wind found its way with a rasping, tiresome groan.</p> + +<p>What little fire there was, burned in a small rusty stove. Its door +stood open, perhaps to keep the low fire burning longer, perhaps to let +the warmth out sooner, and against the pale red glow four small hands +were visible, spread to catch the feeble heat.</p> + +<p>On a bed in one corner, gaunt, and with wasted form, a woman lay.</p> + +<p>This was the mother.</p> + +<p>A girl of perhaps fifteen sat close to the stove and held a tiny baby +wrapped in a gingham apron.</p> + +<p>A spell seemed to have fallen on the usually noisy group. Even Cora, the +family merrymaker, was quiet, until aroused from her reverie by an act +of her brother who replenished the fire.</p> + +<p>She spoke rather severely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p>"Johnnie, how many pieces of coal are there left in the box?"</p> + +<p>"Five—and little ones."</p> + +<p>"Then get to work quick! Take out one of the pieces that you have just +put in. We are not rich enough to burn three pieces at once."</p> + +<p>"I'm cold," whined the boy.</p> + +<p>"So am I, awful cold, but you know that coal must do till pa comes."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know when that will be. Any other pa would be home such a +freezing night as this. I hate my pa."</p> + +<p>"Johnnie, Johnnie, you must not talk that way. He is your father, child."</p> + +<p>The voice came from the bed and was marked by that peculiar tone +noticeable when persons extremely cold try to speak without chattering.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it, mother. I'm cold, so cold, and I'm hungry, too. I only +had half a potato, and Maggie says they're all gone."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said the mother with a sigh. "Here, Maggie, give him +this," and she drew from under the pillow a small potato which she held toward the girl.</p> + +<p>But the girl did not stir until the hungry boy made a move in the +direction of the bed. This movement aroused her as his overdose of coal +had roused his other watchful sister a moment previous.</p> + +<p>"No! No! Johnnie. Do not take it. Our mother will starve. She has not +eaten anything for two days."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>"Let him have it, Maggie. I cannot eat it. Perhaps your father will +come soon and bring some tea. I think a good cup of tea would make me better."</p> + +<p>"And, mother," said Cora, "we will take the money we were going to spend +for shoes and get a bit of flannel for you and the baby. You must have +it or you will freeze. Surely father will come soon. He said he would."</p> + +<p>"Nearly everyone has gone home now. Hardly a person passes," Cora +observed, with her nose pressed against the frosty pane.</p> + +<p>"That is because it is so cold. It is not late yet. We will wait a +little longer, and then Maggie——"</p> + +<p>"O, mother! Do not ask me to go. It is so cold, and suppose—suppose I +had to go into a saloon again. It nearly kills me to go about such places."</p> + +<p>"You might meet him, Maggie, and keep him from going in."</p> + +<p>"If my pa don't come tonight, he's a big liar, that's all!" broke in Johnnie, hotly.</p> + +<p>His mother did not answer him. She was watching the face bent low over +the tiny baby. She noted the careworn look and the nervous pressure of +the hand held over the tiny one to keep it warm.</p> + +<p>Presently the girl lifted her eyes to her mother. Those tender pleading +eyes of the mother would have melted a harder heart than hers. She went +to the bed and put the baby in, close to its mother's side. Then she +threw her arms around the haggard woman's neck and kissed her passionately.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>"Dear mother," she said, "I would do anything for you. I will go for +father, and before it gets any later."</p> + +<p>"Pray, child! Pray every breath you draw! Pray every step you take that +you may find him before it is too late. If you do not—I cannot imagine +what is to become of us. Pray! God is not cruel. Surely he will hear us in our misery."</p> + +<p>Would you see the drunkard's daughter dressed for a walk this bitter +night? A frail, slender girl, who should have been warmly clad, she is +dressed in thinnest, shabby cotton, through which the elements will play +as through rags of gauze, while the flesh of her feet, unprotected by +her almost soleless shoes, will press against the sleet. The two faded +pink roses that flap forlornly on the side of her coarse straw hat bear +a silent suggestion of pathos—a faint remembrance, perhaps, of the days +of departed happiness.</p> + +<p>While she is adjusting the remnant of a shawl so as to cover as much of +her shoulders as possible, the children are giving her numerous messages +to be given their father when she finds him. At last she is ready. After +hesitating a moment she kisses them all and with a shudder steps out +into the howling, swirling blast.</p> + +<p>She walked briskly, halting a second every time she met a man to see if +he were the object of her search and passing each time with a growing +fear, as each time she was disappointed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><p>At last she came to the door of the saloon where her father had so +often worse than wasted the money his family were perishing for at home.</p> + +<p>She stopped.</p> + +<p>She knew it was warm and light inside. Perhaps her father had just +stepped inside to get warm. Should she look?</p> + +<p>While she stood shivering in the wind, getting her courage up to the +point of entering, a man passed her and went in. As he went through the +door a familiar voice greeted her ear, a voice she well knew and had +learned to fear.</p> + +<p>She did not hesitate longer. Opening the door she walked swiftly and +noiselessly in. For a moment the air seemed to stagger her, so laden was +it with the fumes of liquor and tobacco. There was a crowd around the +bar and the bartender was busy mixing drinks and jingling glasses.</p> + +<p>She saw her father. He was about two-thirds drunk and she knew, poor +child, that she had found him at his worst. Her courage almost failed +her, and she took an involuntary step toward the door. Her father's +voice arrested her.</p> + +<p>"Here it goes, and it's my last. Now, who can say Dam Crow has not done +the square thing?" And with the words he flung a silver dollar on the +bar. His last had joined his first. All had gone into the same coffer +while an innocent wife and helpless children were starving and freezing at home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p>A pair of hungry, pleading blue eyes came like a vision to Maggie. +Before the ring of the silver had died away, she sprang forward like a +tiger and seized the dollar.</p> + +<p>"Thief! thief!" cried a chorus of voices and two or three seized her.</p> + +<p>"By the Lord, it's Mag! my Mag! Give that money where it belongs, and +tell what brings you here, you huzzy," and Damon Crowley seized his +daughter by the shoulder and shook her savagely.</p> + +<p>"I will give it where it belongs, and that will be to mother. I came +here for you, father. Mother is sick and cold and nearly starved. The +children are all crying for something to eat and the coal is gone; and +this is the last?"</p> + +<p>She opened her hand and looked at the dollar. Damon Crowley reached for +it, but quick as a flash she closed her fingers over it and thrust her +hand behind her.</p> + +<p>"Never," she said firmly. "This is the last. It shall be ours to buy +mother some tea and the children some bread."</p> + +<p>"Give me that money, you devilish brat!" and stepping forward he struck +her a blow in the face.</p> + +<p>She staggered.</p> + +<p>Some of the bystanders laughed. Some called her a plucky girl, and one, +more nearly drunk than the rest, thinking that he was in a dog pit no +doubt, called lustily, "Sic 'em! Sic 'em!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>Maggie cast an appealing glance around the room. All of the men had +been drinking. Some were nearly intoxicated. The bartender was sober, +but it was his dollar that was involved; he could not interfere.</p> + +<p>Poor Maggie! She stood her ground bravely. It was the last; she could +not let it go. The enraged man gave vent to his passion in a volley of +oaths. "Give me that dollar, or —— I'll bust your head. I won't stand +such treatment, you —— fool!" and suiting the action to the words, he +drew from under the stove a heavy poker and started toward her.</p> + +<p>Someone caught his upraised arm.</p> + +<p>"Let her go, Dam Crow. Let her have her dollar. You've done the square +thing. Not a stingy bone in your body."</p> + +<p>A laugh followed this speech, in which Damon Crowley joined, and which +seemed to put him in better humor. He threw the poker down heavily and +taking the frightened girl rudely by the arm pushed her toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Tell the sick lady her husband wants her to have tea, nice warm tea, +plenty of tea, and this is your share," and opening the door he pushed +her into the passageway and gave her a violent kick.</p> + +<p>The crowd inside laughed loudly and then went on with their drinking and +swearing as if nothing had happened. Such visits as the visit of Maggie +were of too frequent occurrence to cause any prolonged ripple of excitement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>Poor Maggie! She lay groaning on the cold, slippery ground, just +outside this licensed, money-making pet of Uncle Sam's.</p> + +<p>She was half crazed with pain and growing numb when two young gentlemen +came along. One stooped and picked up something lying in the street.</p> + +<p>"Gad! I've good luck," and he held up the dollar.</p> + +<p>"Please, mister! it's mine. Give it to me quick. It's all that's left."</p> + +<p>"And what did you do with the others? Come now, you've had a little too +much of the stuff inside, but you'd better move on or you'll freeze."</p> + +<p>"Let's call a policeman."</p> + +<p>"Too cold to stop. They'll find her; and if she freezes, well enough. +Her kind are of no use to the world."</p> + +<p>Then the speaker dropped the dollar in his pocket, and taking his +companion's arm hastened away.</p> + +<p>"O God! O God!" groaned Maggie. But her cry was lost on the moaning wind.</p> + +<p>Presently a man wrapped in a fur-trimmed coat turned the corner and +almost ran over the prostrate form. He halted suddenly and spoke to her. No answer.</p> + +<p>He shook her. Only a faint groan.</p> + +<p>Then he stepped to the saloon, and after a sharp, decided knock by way +of announcement, entered.</p> + +<p>"Does the girl lying outside belong to anyone here? She is nearly frozen."</p> + +<p>A couple of men stepped to the door and peered out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>"It's Dam Crow's girl. She was in here a huntin' him."</p> + +<p>"Where is her father?"</p> + +<p>"That's him," pointing to a man lying on a bench behind the stove.</p> + +<p>"Guess he's asleep," said the man, smiling broadly.</p> + +<p>"Wake him, and hurry about it," said the gentleman.</p> + +<p>But Damon Crowley was not in a sleep that could be easily broken. Like a +beast he lay. The spittle oozed from his mouth and spread over his dirty +beard in true drunkard fashion. When told that his daughter was just +outside freezing, he could only grunt.</p> + +<p>"Where is his home?"</p> + +<p>"Small use to take her there," one man observed, recounting part of the +interview that had taken place a short time before. But no one knew +where he lived. The muffled man left the saloon abruptly, evidently much disgusted.</p> + +<p>Stepping into the street he called a cab just passing. After having had +the half-dead girl placed in the vehicle, the gentleman followed, +slamming the door.</p> + +<p>Then he took off his great coat and threw it over her tattered garments.</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn was a tender-hearted man.</p> + +<hr /><p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE THORNS AT HOME.</h3> + +<p>The Thorn homestead, like the family whose name it bore, was magnificent +and substantial in an unassuming way. Its gray gables seemed to look +with a frown on the gingerbread style of architecture that had grown up +around it. Under the trees on its lawn, three generations of Thorns had +grown to man's estate, and every one of them had become a lawyer.</p> + +<p>It had been the hope of the present occupant that when he left the +estate he might leave it in the hands of a son, but this was not to be.</p> + +<p>After a short married life his wife died, leaving him childless.</p> + +<p>Some years later he married a second time. When his first child was born +and he was told it was a daughter, he was disappointed. When the second +child came and was also a girl, his disappointment verged on resentment. +Through the hours of anxious waiting that preceded the arrival of the +third child, he walked the floor in a state of mind alternating between +hope and fear, and when at last the suspense was over and he looked upon +the tiny features of a son, his joy knew no bounds.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>He hurried out to break the news to the two little sisters whom he +imagined would be as pleased as he was. He found them in the yard, +Vivian swinging with her doll and Jean digging a hole in a pile of sand. +When the important announcement was made, the black-haired Vivian +clapped her hands for joy, but the other little girl kept right on +digging, just as if she had not heard. When she had passed the critical +point in the process of excavating she paused and looked up.</p> + +<p>The expression in her father's face was something new to her, and she +studied him in silence a moment, then said, solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Are boys any better than girls, father?"</p> + +<p>"Better? Why no, they are no better. They are boys, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Well, then!" and the tone of her voice, no less than the words, +conveyed the meaning that the matter was settled, and she returned to +her digging as if nothing had happened. But she did not forget the +incident, and when, shortly after, the tiny baby boy in the cold arms of +his mother had been put to rest beneath a mound, and the light had gone +out of the father's face and the elasticity out of his step, little Jean +pondered and her heart went out strangely to her father in his bitter +trouble. She followed him softly about and studied him.</p> + +<p>One evening, some time after the little son had come and gone, Jean +appeared before her father in the library to make an important +announcement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> "I've been thinking the matter over, father," she said, +"and I've made up my mind I will be your boy. You want a boy, and you +know yourself you'll never be able to make one of Vivian, with her wee +little mouth and her long braids. Now my hair is just right and I can +throw a stone exactly over the middle of the barn and kick a ball +farther than any boy on the block. I shall kick more hereafter, for +don't you think a boy's legs ought to be cultivated?"</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn smiled and assured her that she was correct in her idea of +muscular development.</p> + +<p>"Are boys as good as girls, father?"</p> + +<p>"Boys as good as girls? Why, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, you said once that girls were as good as boys, and if boys are as +good as girls they're as good as each other, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn could not keep back the laugh this time.</p> + +<p>"I believe that is the logical conclusion," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me truly, father, if I'm going to be your boy, are you going +to be as glad as you were that morning you bothered me when I was +digging my well?"</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn hesitated a moment, but the clear gray eyes were upon him, +and he felt the justice of their plea.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, I think so."</p> + +<p>"And may I do just as you do when I get big—read books and make speeches?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p><p>Now Judge Thorn was not an advocate of the advanced sphere of women and +was not sure he wanted his daughter to be a lawyer, but after a short +reflection, perhaps thinking the request but the passing fancy of a +child, he gave his assent.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father," she responded gravely. "I think you are a very good +man." Then she kissed him and left the room.</p> + +<p>He sat, still smiling, when her voice close to his side startled him +with the announcement:</p> + +<p>"I think, father, if you do not care, I will not go into pants. I might +not feel at home, you know."</p> + +<p>From the time that the little Jean had announced herself as her father's +boy, he took more interest in her; and as the child developed, he saw +unfolding the traits and abilities he had hoped to nurture in a son. +Intuitively she seemed to understand his moods and fancies, and as her +understanding developed, the books were a source of delight to her, and +many times she discussed knotty problems with her father in a way that +pleased him mightily.</p> + +<p>So, as the years went by, she slipped into the place the father had +reserved for the son, and he loved her with a peculiarly tender love and +was never prouder of her than when he heard her say, in explanation of +her notions and her plans, "I am my father's boy."</p> + +<p>On the particular night when Maggie Crowley was wandering about in the +storm, two young women occupied a handsome room in the Thorn home. A +cheerful wood fire burned on the hearth and the clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> rays from an +overhanging light cast brightness over the rows of books that lined the walls.</p> + +<p>These were two people who minded not the winter weather. The cold wind +blowing through the gables and leafless trees held no terror for them. +Perhaps they rather liked to hear it as by way of comparison it made +their lot seem more comfortable.</p> + +<p>The tall slender woman with black hair was examining alternately a +fashion book and a bunch of samples. She was Vivian, a pronounced society lady.</p> + +<p>The other sat in a low chair, by a small study table, reading, only +looking up now and then to answer some question put to her by her +sister. This was "my father's boy."</p> + +<p>The solemn little Jean was gone, in her place was this altogether +charming young person, whose shapely head was crowned with coils and +coils of red brown hair held in place by numerous quaintly carved silver +hairpins. If it had not been for the clear gray eyes and the quaint +fashion she still had of dropping her head on one side when solving some +momentous problem, the little Jean might have been a dream.</p> + +<p>Presently the door opened and Judge Thorn entered.</p> + +<p>"Nice evening, girls!"</p> + +<p>"Delightful!"</p> + +<p>"Blackstone, Jean?"</p> + +<p>The young lady looked at the book quizzically a moment and then laughed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>"United States history, father. Last week I reviewed Caesar. Now I am +on this, and if I do my best I think I may reasonably hope to be in the +Third Reader by next week."</p> + +<p>The judge laughed.</p> + +<p>"I have been reading our constitution and looking over the record of +'the late unpleasantness,'" said Jean. "It is very interesting to me. Do +you know, father, I love every woman who gave a husband or a son to her +country, and I almost hold in reverence the memory of the men who shed +their blood to effect the abolition of human slavery in America."</p> + +<p>The tall form of the Judge straightened and his eye brightened, like a +soldier's when he hears the names of his old battle-fields.</p> + +<p>"Do not forget," he said, "that there were those who acted as brave a +part who never faced a cannon. It is easy to be borne by the force of a +great wave; but those who by their time and talents put the wave of +public opinion in motion are the real heroes.</p> + +<p>"I can remember the time when a man who preached or taught Abolition was +looked upon as narrow-minded, fanatical, bigoted and even criminal. When +the name was a stench in the nostrils of the people even in +liberty-loving Boston. When men were rotten-egged, beaten, and in some +instances killed because they dared to follow the dictates of their own +consciences and make sentiment for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> overthrow of the traffic in +humanity. It took all this to bring it about. No great moral reform +takes place without agitation, or without martyrs. Those men bore the +brunt of battle before the battle was. They were most surely heroes. +They made the tidal wave of opinion that swept the country with +insistent force and struck the shackles from 3,000,000 slaves."</p> + +<p>"And you, father, were one of them," cried the enthusiastic girl. "What +perils you must have braved!"</p> + +<p>"I did all I could, you may be sure," answered the judge, modestly, "and +I imagine it would be more agreeable to be whipped in a hand-to-hand +encounter than to be caricatured, misrepresented and lied about, and by +those, too, who claimed to have the abolition of slavery near their +hearts, who prayed unceasingly for its utter destruction, and then split +hairs as to the way in which it was to be accomplished, and who fondly +hoped to exterminate it by marking boundary lines."</p> + +<p>"But then," asked Jean, "was there no way by which this terrible war +could have been averted? No way by which the government could have +regulated and gradually suppressed slavery?"</p> + +<p>"Regulations and restrictions," replied the Judge, waxing eloquent, "put +upon such a vice by a government are but its terms of partnership. +Gradual suppression of a mighty evil is always a signal failure, and +while we wait to prove these failures the enemy gains foothold."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"I am proud of you, father—proud to be my father's boy—proud to be +the daughter of a patriot," said Jean, with tears in her clear eyes. "I +am a patriot, too, and if ever such an issue comes to the front in my +day, I intend to do a patriot's part, if I am a woman."</p> + +<p>"I do not think such an issue will ever be forced to the front again. +That was a moral question as well as political. Other matters vex the +people of today—money matters mostly—in which more diplomacy is +required than bravery."</p> + +<p>"I must hurry now. I have but fifteen minutes in which to get down town."</p> + +<p>"You surely are not going out tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Business appointments must be kept. The storm was not considerate +enough to leave town before 'the man' came, and 'the man' cannot wait +for the storm to take its departure, so what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Does James know?"</p> + +<p>"I do not want the horses tonight."</p> + +<p>Jean stepped out and returned with his wraps. She held the great coat +while he thrust his long arms into it. Then she tied his muffler around his neck.</p> + +<p>"Father, while you are out, if you run across any lonely reformer, put +in for Jean an application for the position of first assistant," laughed Vivian.</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn left the room, and these two daughters of fortune settled +themselves for a comfortable evening.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>Before it seemed possible that an hour had gone they heard a vehicle +drive up to the side gate.</p> + +<p>The carriage stopped for several minutes, then rattled away over the +hard ground, and presently the judge re-entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! This is a tough night. Fire feels good," and he rubbed his hands briskly.</p> + +<p>"I brought home company, girls. Not exactly the reformer Vivian was +speaking of; perhaps someone to reform."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Whom have you found?"</p> + +<p>"I think I may be able to explain what I mean, but until the girl thaws +out a little we will not know who she is," said the judge mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"What in the world do you mean, father? But tell us about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, as usual on a night of this sort, there was a missing man. The +search for him took me a couple of blocks out of my way and in coming +back I passed a saloon of a low order and found the girl lying in the +sleet. I thought more than likely she was drunk, and stepped into the +saloon to advise them to look after their productions. Here I found her +father in a state of beastly intoxication and learned that she had been +there, a short time before, begging him to go home with her to a sick +wife and some hungry children, but I could not find out where this home +was. Just as I left the saloon a cab came along, and I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> the driver +put the girl in it. This is all. Where are you going, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"Going to see the object of your charity."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn placed his hand on Jean's shoulder and pushed her gently +back into her chair.</p> + +<p>"Possess your soul in patience. You could be of no possible service if +you were to go. Mrs. Floyd has her in charge and will do all that is +necessary. I am not sure that it was wise to bring her here. I am almost +sorry that I did so, but I hated to leave her and there was not a +policeman in sight; there never is.</p> + +<p>"It is a shame such places as the place at which I stopped tonight are +allowed to exist. Two-thirds of the crime and misery of our entire +nation can be traced directly to their doors. They are a public +nuisance, an outrage to civilization. Temperance people must see to it +that license is raised so high that this sort cannot obtain it."</p> + +<p>"Would that shut them up?" said Jean.</p> + +<p>"Certainly it would."</p> + +<p>"Not all the saloons?"</p> + +<p>"All the poor, low ones."</p> + +<p>"What about the rich ones?"</p> + +<p>"It would make no difference with them, but they have not the bad effect +on the morals of a community that the low ones have. They are patronized +by a set of people who do not pour their last cent down their throats +and employ their time beating their families."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>Jean crossed one foot over the other, leaned slightly forward and with +her head dropped a little to one side in the old-time way, sat studying +the fire. She was trying to solve some knotty problem.</p> + +<p>Her father smiled. It seemed she was the little Jean come back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i026.jpg" width='547' height='700' alt="Give me some, quick!" /></div> + +<hr /><p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>JEAN THE ABOLITIONIST.</h3> + +<p>"Come in, father, and make yourself comfortable." It was Jean speaking, +as she stood in the glow of the library lamp. "I have been waiting for +you. You need not cast your eye around for the paper; you will not find +it until my case has had a hearing."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn sank into the great easy chair before the fire with an air +of forced resignation, and the young woman continued:</p> + +<p>"It is quite necessary nowadays, you know, for women to have 'ideas.' I +have ideas on social and moral questions, but I do not know just where I +belong when it comes to politics."</p> + +<p>The judge lifted his hands with a show of expostulation.</p> + +<p>"So our Jean would be a politician," he cried. "Oh, the times! Oh, the customs!"</p> + +<p>"Not quite so bad as that, father," replied the young woman, smiling but +serious; "but I am in downright earnest. The making, the unmaking and +the enforcing of law are politics, and every American woman should have +an interest in these things. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> thinking woman must have an interest +in them. I must know more of politics."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said her father, thoughtfully; "you are right. I do not +believe a woman should get out of her sphere, but a woman's influence is +mighty, and inasmuch as all law and reform come through the ballot box, +there can be no harm in her giving an intelligent hearing to politics."</p> + +<p>"Then, father, please listen to me for a few minutes; I want to tell you +what has set me to thinking along these lines. Two weeks ago you brought +Maggie Crowley here. I went to see her in her room the next morning, and +she told me her story. Her mother was sick, the children were hungry and +cold, so she started out to find the father before he had spent his money for drink.</p> + +<p>"When she finally found him, she found him in a saloon in the act of +handing over his last dollar to pay for liquor that others had drunk as +well as himself. She got the dollar some way and started home, when, as +she said, she fell. The dollar rolled into the street and a passerby +picked it up and pocketed it, in spite of the fact that she told him +that it was hers, and that it was the last.</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget the way she looked when she came to this part of +her story. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her voice was lost in a great +big sob. She begged me, for the love of heaven, to go to her mother, who +must be half-crazed with grief because of her disappearance, and to take +her something to eat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"So Mrs. Floyd fixed a basket of lunch and we went. A lump rose in my +throat when I went into that place. It was cold, very cold. Maggie's +mother was lying on a bed in one corner of the room, with one thin quilt +over her, and a tiny moaning baby at her breast. Sitting on a box near +the bed were two children, a small boy and a girl. They were huddled +under a fragment of blanket. The boy was crying for something to eat and +his sister was trying bravely to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"There was not a spark of fire nor a crumb of food about the place. When +Mrs. Floyd opened the basket and the children saw what it contained, +they bounded toward it like wolves, and the woman reached out her thin +hand and said, eagerly: 'Give me some quick! I'm nearly starved, and the +baby is so weak—my breasts are dry.'</p> + +<p>"I took off my glove and felt her hand, and I really thought she must be +frozen; but she said she had been that way so much she was growing used to it.</p> + +<p>"We stopped on our way home and ordered some coal, and later made a raid +on our closets and pantry and made up a load of stuff to take back. I +sent some good blankets and quite an assortment of clothing, so that by +night they were fairly comfortable.</p> + +<p>"I went again the next day to see how they were getting along and to +give them news of Maggie, and while I was there the father came home for +the first time. He was over his spell of intoxication, but was weak, and +tottered like an old man. His eyes were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> bloodshot, and on the whole he +was not a very prepossessing looking gentleman, but I could not help +feeling sorry for him. It seemed so sad to see a being, created in the +image of God, such a miserable wreck.</p> + +<p>"Casting his eye hurriedly around the room, he went to the bedside and +asked for Maggie. His wife told him how she had gone for him, how she +fell, and the rest of the story, and then he told his tale, and—can you +believe it, father—that man kicked the girl out of the door—kicked his +own daughter down the steps into the storm that night, and gave her the +injury from which she lies here under our roof now.</p> + +<p>"My blood boiled, fairly boiled. I could feel it bubbling. His wife +turned her face to the tiny baby, and I could see her frame shake under +the cover. The man knelt beside the bed and wept, too, and again I was +sorry, with a sort of contempt mixed in, for the man.</p> + +<p>"After a time his wife turned to him, and, resting her thin hand on his +head, spoke kindly to him, and referred him to the Lord for the strength +that he so sorely lacked. The man did pray, and I am sure he was in +earnest; and he asked his wife's forgiveness and took a solemn oath that +he would never touch another cursed drop."</p> + +<p>"Good," ejaculated the judge.</p> + +<p>"Good?" echoed Jean. "Wait, I have not finished yet. I went there +several times. I liked to go. It made me happy to see the look that was +coming into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> the woman's eyes. She took two half-dollar pieces from +under the pillow one morning, and proudly displayed them, telling me it +was the first time in a year her husband had given her so much. She said +she had hoped in vain, so many times, for him to reform that she had +given up hope, but that now she really believed poor Maggie's misfortune +would prove their blessing. They have not always been poor. Once, when +they were younger, they owned a nice home and the husband occupied a +good position. But he chose for his associates men who spent a good part +of their time in a certain fashionable downtown saloon, and to be social +he drank with them. He was not a man who could drink a great deal and +not become intoxicated, so, when he began to lie around drunk, they pushed him out.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Crowley says the starting point of all their poverty and sorrow +and shame was on the threshold of the respectable gilt and glass palace +that bears over its doors the names of Allison, Russell & Joy. She knows +the place well. I think those gentlemen would not be pleased to hear the +things she says of them; for certain it is her husband would never have +been a drunkard if it had been necessary for him to have learned the +habit in a low grog shop."</p> + +<p>Jean paused a second and looked at her father, but he seemed unaware of +her gaze, and she continued:</p> + +<p>"Then I went in to-day to tell them that Maggie would be home in a few +days, and I found a change. The girl Cora was on the bed with her +mother. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> blankets and sheets had disappeared. The few pieces of +furniture that the room contained were scattered in disorder. I will try +to tell the rest of the story as Mrs. Crowley told it to me. I will +never forget, father, the helpless despair that sounded in her voice and +manner as she talked.</p> + +<p>"'Ah, Miss Thorn!' she said, wearily, 'It's all over—all gone. I should +have known better than to have hoped again; but hope is so sweet! +Yesterday morning my husband seemed more like himself than he has for +years. He kissed us when he went away and promised to be home early. We +were all very happy. He is such a kind, good man when he is himself. Oh! +if only he had never crossed the threshold of that gilded trap of hell. +Those men's names burn in my mind. I wonder if such men as Allison, +Russell and Joy have hearts.</p> + +<p>"'Cora fixed supper, and then we waited. He did not come; but I felt so +sure some way that he would that I was not uneasy. The children finally +had to eat alone. About 9 o'clock he came. Dear Miss Thorn, if you have +never seen a raving, frenzied man, pray God you never may. This was the +way he came home. He had had just enough of liquor to fire up a gnawing, +burning pain and not enough to satisfy him. He came directly to the bed +and demanded the money he had given me in the morning. I told him it was +gone. He swore an oath, and asked me where. I told him Johnnie had spent +it for food. He swore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> another awful oath, and took up a stick of wood, +with which he began to beat the boy.</p> + +<p>"'When you are a mother you can better imagine than I can describe how I +felt, lying helpless in bed, and seeing a man, my own husband, so +cruelly beating my innocent child. Cora, poor Cora, went bravely to her +brother's rescue, and her father, God forgive him, beat her until the +blood came from his blows, and she fell to the floor, and then he kicked her.</p> + +<p>"'I could stand this no longer. I sprang from the bed, but I was weak. I +could do nothing, and he, the man who promised before God to protect me, +kicked me, too. It seemed to me then that his boot-toe pierced my heart. +Johnnie ran out to call some one in, but before he returned my husband +had taken the blankets and other things that he could pawn and had gone.</p> + +<p>"'Perhaps you think it strange for me to tell these things to you, but +my heart is bursting and my brain is on fire with such misery that I +must talk. Come and see what a man can do when crazed with rum—a good +father when he is himself—and in a Christian country! Where are the +preachers and the people who call themselves God's people, that they do +not drive away forever the cause of all this?'</p> + +<p>"I looked at the girl Cora; and I wish, father, that she might be put on +exhibition in some public show window downtown, conspicuously labeled, +'A specimen of the work done by a father when under the effects of +Christian America's legal poison.'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"She was literally covered with wounds and her legs were so swollen she +could not walk.</p> + +<p>"Now, father, get out your list of political parties, examine the +candidates, and put me where I belong. This is a question that must come +into politics, as all reforms come through the ballot-box, and I must +give my influence to that political party or power making this a +clear-cut issue. I am an Abolitionist."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"An Abolitionist."</p> + +<p>"How is that?"</p> + +<p>"Simply enough: I stand for the everlasting abolition of the liquor +traffic. It is quite the proper thing for the daughter of a Republican +to be an Abolitionist."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn laughed.</p> + +<p>"You put your case plain enough," he said. "There is small room to doubt +how you stand, but I think that you will see that abolition in this case +would be impracticable. You know, my girl, in these days a half-loaf is +better than no bread. Political parties, like the grass of the field, +sprout up and die away. There are but two real parties. The fight on +leading issues is between them. All that is necessary for you to do is +to read the platforms of these two parties and make your choice. Listen!"</p> + +<p>He took down a political almanac from one of the library shelves.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"We are opposed," he read "to all sumptuary laws as an interference +with the individual rights of the citizen."</p> + +<p>Jean sat rocking slowly, with her hands clasped behind her head. As her +father read her forehead wrinkled. After he had finished, she waited as +if expecting something more, then said:</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"That is all."</p> + +<p>"Then it occurs to me, if I can understand plain English, that this +party proposes to do nothing to stop the terrible drink curse. Bring on +another. That is not my party."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn read again, and this time with an air of profound satisfaction:</p> + +<p>"The first concern of all good government is the virtue and sobriety of +the people and the purity of the home."</p> + +<p>Jean's face lit up, and she looked eagerly toward her father.</p> + +<p>"We cordially sympathize," read on the judge, "with all wise and +well-directed efforts for the promotion of temperance and morality."</p> + +<p>Jean sat looking into the fire. Her father waited a few seconds, then +she turned her face to him.</p> + +<p>"And what do they propose to do?"</p> + +<p>"Do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, DO! The cordial sympathy of the whole Republican party does not +make Mrs. Crowley any happier nor take any of the soreness out of +Cora's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> body, nor do anything toward curing poor Maggie; and I cannot +see how 'cordial sympathy' is going to shut up any saloons or keep Mr. +Crowley from getting drunk again. So far, so good, but read on. I am +anxious to learn what this party proposes to DO to promote 'temperance and morality.'"</p> + +<p>"That is all the platform contains on the subject," said Judge Thorn. +"Individuals are left to their own judgment as to the best methods to be +used in the restriction of the evil, although the policy of the party is well known."</p> + +<p>"It is?"</p> + +<p>"High license."</p> + +<p>"Does high license promote temperance and morality?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly: high license closes a great many saloons entirely, and puts +the business in the hands of men who run respectable places."</p> + +<p>"Respectable places!" quoted Jean, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>The judge looked at the fire in silence.</p> + +<p>"And, father," persisted the earnest girl, "do statistics prove that +fewer licenses are issued in cities where high license laws are in +effect and that there is a decrease in crime and poverty?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure. It must be so, for Republicans, as a rule, are the +temperance people and, as a rule, they indorse high license. But you +have heard the reading, 'All wise and well-directed <i>efforts</i>,' one is +at liberty to substitute no license by local option, or any other +restrictive measure he deems wise."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>"Is there room on this broad platform for any liquor dealers?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a number; and here again may be seen the higher moral tone of the +party, for nine times out of ten it is the better class of dealers who +are allied with it."</p> + +<p>Jean leaned back in her chair and rocked. As she mused she rocked more +and more slowly, and when she stopped abruptly her father knew the +verdict was ready.</p> + +<p>"Well, father, this much is settled: I do not believe in high license. +In the first place, I think it dishonest to let the rich man, who can +afford to do so, pay for the privilege of making more money and shut out +the poor man, who is trying to earn a living, because he is not already +rich. In the second place, it occurs to my mind, more so after knowing +Mrs. Crowley, that if license laws could be so arranged as to wipe out +the 'respectable' places, the low ones would soon follow. Public +sentiment would not tolerate them, and if it did, the coming generation +would not be lured to destruction by glitter and music.</p> + +<p>"In the third place," and the girl sprang to her feet and stood looking +her father full in the face, "a man who labored fearlessly for the +overthrow of human slavery when public opinion pointed the finger of +scorn at him, said to me not long since: 'Regulations and restrictions +put on such a vice by the government are but its terms of partnership.'"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>It took Judge Thorn half a minute to recognize his words. Then he +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Jean, child, you are getting sharp. Your logic is all right, but you +must remember times have changed. This is different."</p> + +<p>"I cannot see, father, that the moral issue is any different. Of the two +great evils, intemperance is certainly a greater curse than ever slavery +was; for while it has all the pain and heartaches and sorrow of every +description that accompanies slavery, the worst feature of it is that +hell is filling up with souls that drink their doom when they drain the +wine cup. I think I understand myself, father, and I say again, I am an +Abolitionist. Bring on some other party platform."</p> + +<p>"There are no others but the labor organizations and the 'cranks.'"</p> + +<p>"What do the labor people say?"</p> + +<p>"They regard intelligence, virtue and temperance, important as they are, +as secondary to the great material issues now pressing for solution."</p> + +<p>"And the 'cranks,' as you call them?"</p> + +<p>"They have no policy, and their politics consists in trying to undo all +the temperance legislation they get through other parties because it +does not come through theirs. As a political party they are the most +fanatical and narrow-minded that history takes account of. Indeed, I +doubt not that, in certain instances, their obstinate opposition to men +and measures has been little short of criminal. But I will read:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>"'We favor the legal prohibition by state and national legislation of +the manufacture, importation and sale of alcoholic beverages.'"</p> + +<p>"Eureka!" she shouted. "I am not alone. How many others like me?"</p> + +<p>"A quarter of a million, I presume," he answered, a trifle grimly.</p> + +<p>"And must I take my stand in politics away from my dear father, who is +so wise and just?"</p> + +<p>"You are young, Jean, and impulsive. You will see the matter in a +different light when you have given the subject more thought. I am old +now. For over half a century I have studied the affairs of men, and I +tell you the time is not now expedient for such an issue to be forced to the front."</p> + +<p>"When will it be?"</p> + +<p>"When sentiment is strong enough behind the movement to enforce the law."</p> + +<p>"Strange," mused Jean. "One might almost imagine, by the amount of +resolving that has been done in the last few years, that sentiment was +strong enough to sink the traffic five miles deep in the ocean of +righteous indignation. I tell you, father, sentiment is the prime +essential of the whole thing; but as long as it floats around +everywhere, like moonshine, what is it good for? We need concentration +and crystallization now. In other words, I believe in a party of embodied sentiment."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>ASLEEP IN JESUS.</h3> + +<p>Gilbert Allison, of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, wholesale and +retail liquor dealers, walking briskly along a sideway that led toward +one of the great thoroughfares of the city, halted a second before +crossing the street. As he stopped a voice reached his ear. Hearing the +voice he took a more careful glance at the surroundings and found +himself standing in front of a plain little wooden structure that he +learned, from a sign upon one corner, was some sort of an orthodox +chapel. Through the narrow, open doorway the voice floated:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep,</div> +<div>From which none ever wake to weep—</div> +<div>A calm and undisturbed repose,</div> +<div>Unbroken by the last of foes.</div> +<div>Asleep in Jesus! Oh, how sweet</div> +<div>To be for such a slumber meet!</div> +<div>With holy confidence to sing</div> +<div>That death has lost its venom sting.</div> +</div></div> + +<p>Both words and tune were unfamiliar to him. Was it the song itself, sung +to the sweetly pathetic tune of "Rest," was it the strangely beautiful +and solemn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> voice of the singer, or was it common curiosity to see the +owner of the unusual voice that proved the attraction prompting him to +step into the vestibule? Unseen he watched as the song went on:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest,</div> +<div>Whose waking is supremely blest.</div> +<div>No fear nor foe shall dim the hour</div> +<div>That manifests the Savior's power.</div> +<div>Asleep in Jesus! Oh, for me</div> +<div>May such a blissful refuge be!</div> +<div>Securely shall my ashes lie</div> +<div>And wait the summons from the sky.</div> +</div></div> + +<p>The sweet voice of the singer died away, and the stillness was broken +only by low sobbing. Then the minister arose.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison had seen enough. The plain, dark coffin just before the +altar railing told him that another human soul had left its earthly body +and had gone beyond.</p> + +<p>He was not interested in this. His mind dwelt on the singer. She was +rather small, a well-formed and graceful appearing young woman of +perhaps twenty-two or twenty-four. She wore a plain dark dress, and a +round hat rested on the masses of red-brown hair that framed her face +and crowned her shapely head. Here and there in the mass a carved silver +hair-pin showed itself, and Gilbert Allison found himself studying the +effect as he walked down the street; found himself puzzled as to why he +had stopped and noticed her hair or her. Evidently she had made an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +impression on him. He tried, in a way, to analyze this, and finally gave +it up, yet found himself continually recalling the face in its frame of red-brown hair.</p> + +<p>He had known many charming women in his three and thirty years of life, +but he had never felt before the indescribable charm that had suddenly, +like the fragrance of a hidden violet, come to him for the unknown +singer in the dingy chapel. Gilbert Allison had guarded well his heart's +affections, but there comes a time in the lives of most men when the +heart refuses to be subject to the will and obstinately goes whither it +pleases. This man's heart was about to assert its rights. The daughter +of a Republican was to have a lover, for it was Miss Thorn who sang.</p> + +<p>That Miss Thorn should sing had been the wish of the now lifeless +sleeper, and Jean had done her best.</p> + +<p>All that was mortal of Maggie Crowley rested in the plain, dark coffin. +A life fraught with sorrow and tears and an innocent shame was ended; a +body racked with hunger and pain and cold was at rest. From the time of +her awful hurt, now a year ago, Maggie had been an invalid. The children +had gone out to work, and the frail mother had tried to cheer them as +she toiled in the valley of despair. A new sorrow had come into the +wretched home: Cora, yet a child in years, because she had a fair face +and a drunkard for a father, had been robbed of her one priceless +possession—her unspotted character—by a man whose name was familiar in +high circles, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> whose hand was courted by more than one mother for +some cherished daughter.</p> + +<p>From the time that her sister had bartered away her purity, in the +bitter, thankless battle that she fought for bread, Maggie had steadily +grown weaker, and when the mother knew the time was near at hand for her +to go she sent for Miss Thorn.</p> + +<p>Jean had never been beside a death-bed, but she did not hesitate.</p> + +<p>Maggie was lying, white and thin, upon the pillow. She looked eagerly +toward the door. Her eyes lit with a lingering light, and a faint smile +came around the corners of her drawn mouth when she saw that it was +Jean. She spoke slowly and softly, without much effort, and quite distinctly.</p> + +<p>"I'm going pretty soon, Miss Thorn, and I wanted to see you. You've been +so good to us—God will bless you for it. When I am gone, don't forget +poor mother. Please don't, Miss Thorn! She will be sad. I'm the only one +that remembered the other days, and we used sometimes to talk of them +and pray that they might come back. Maybe God will send them back some +day—but I will not be here. I'm not afraid to die. Christ died for the +drunkard's child—I'm sure he did. I'm so glad to go. In my Father's +house are many mansions—many mansions—one for us."</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes as she repeated the words softly.</p> + +<p>"When I am gone, do not feel sad, mother—not too sad," she continued in +a moment. "Think that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> I have only gone to sleep to wake up where there +is no more sorrow. I'll be waiting in our mansion, mother, and there we +will be happy, for the Book says he will not be there who puts the +bottle to his neighbor's lips."</p> + +<p>She stopped to rest. The room was very quiet.</p> + +<p>"When my father comes," a look of intense longing came into her sunken +eyes, and for a moment she struggled to force back the great sob of +sorrow that seemed choking her, "tell him 'goodby' for Maggie. Perhaps +he will be sorry—not like he once would have been—just a little. Don't +let the children forget me. Dear children! How I wish I could take them +all to the mansion. And Cora, poor Cora——"</p> + +<p>The last tears that ever shone in Maggie's eyes filled them now.</p> + +<p>"God knows about Cora," said Jean, tenderly, while the mother wept in silence.</p> + +<p>The dying girl lay quite exhausted, and, while she rested, her eyes +wandered from one to the other of the few around the bed and rested +lovingly on her mother's face. Her minutes were numbered. Mortality was +ebbing away. When she spoke again it was with more of an effort, pausing +now and then for breath.</p> + +<p>"Stoop over, mother; let me put—my arms around—your dear, kind neck. +Put your face down—so I can put my cheek—against yours—as I did when +we were happy. I'm going back—to it. I smell the roses. I hear the +pigeons—on the roof. Lift me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>—mother—gently. I am—tired. +Sing—my—good night—song—I'll—go—to—sleep."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crowley drew the dying girl's head close to her heart and tried to +sing; but her voice failed. Then, in the presence of the death angel, +Jean sang for the girl's long sleeping.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a clear, happy, childish voice rang out on the +stillness—"Papa's coming!"</p> + +<p>It was the last. The arms around the mother's neck unclasped. The weary +head sank upon the pillow. The eyelids fluttered. The breaths came +shorter and shorter—the weary girl had entered into rest.</p> + +<p>The soul of the drunkard's daughter had gone where justice reigns +supreme; where a God of justice watches the kingdoms of the earth and in +mercy stays the doom that comes a certain penalty of the nation that +sells its maids and youths to the rum fiend.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crowley stood looking down on the wan face of her first-born.</p> + +<p>"Thank God she is happy! But it's hard—so hard!"</p> + +<p>A mother's love is the same the world around. This mother threw herself +down by the bedside, and, holding one of the lifeless hands to her lips, +sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p>It seemed a desecration that just now the father should come stumbling +into the scene, filling the room with the fumes of liquor and muttering +drunken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> curses. But Maggie was beyond the reach of human harm. This +would never pain her heart again.</p> + +<p>Neighbors came in, and Jean stepped out into the fresh air.</p> + +<p>It was nearly noontime. The streets were busy, and as she went towards +home she saw the beer wagons driving in every direction, loaded with +their freight of sorrow and pain and death. As she passed the palaces of +gilded doom, arrayed in cut glass and mirrors, luring the souls of men +and boys to hell, she thought of the Christian voters of the nation who +allow it to be so because, bound by party ties and fooled by party +leaders, they will not force this mighty issue to the front and demand +its recognition at the ballot-box; and these words rang in her ears: +"Because I have called and ye have refused, ye have set at naught all my +counsel. I also will laugh at your calamity when your destruction cometh +as a whirlwind."</p> + +<p>The words burned in her mind, and when she reached home she entered the +library and without removing hat or gloves threw herself upon a sofa.</p> + +<p>It was not quite time for luncheon. The house was quiet.</p> + +<p>Vivian had, during the year, married the rector of a large and +fashionable city church. For weeks before the eventful occasion life had +been one round of shopping and fitting, of entertaining and rehearsing. +Jean, as maid of honor, had figured conspicuously in the different +functions, and for a time her mind was so absorbed with the fragrance +and sunshine of life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> that its seamy side was forgotten. But after it +was all over her thoughts and sympathies went out again to that family +of the "other half" that she had so strangely become interested in, and +the old question pressed itself for solution, why, in a Christian land +of plenty, such a state of life for such vast numbers was allowable or even possible.</p> + +<p>With the sound of the dying girl's voice in her ears and the sight of a +nation's legalized poison yet before her vision she rested, and so +engrossed was she with her thoughts that she did not notice the entrance +of her father.</p> + +<p>"A penny for your thoughts, my dear."</p> + +<p>Jean looked up suddenly. Then she caught her father's hand and drew him to her side.</p> + +<p>"I have seen a death to-day, father—a death, a drunkard, loads of beer and whisky."</p> + +<p>"Crowley dead at last?"</p> + +<p>"Maggie."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl. No doubt she is better off."</p> + +<p>"Yes, better off," repeated Jean. "But, father, I have been thinking of +the whirlwind. You know the Book that has voiced unerringly the stage +play of the ages says destruction is coming as a whirlwind—as a +whirlwind. Can you not catch its roaring under the bluster of silver and +tariff and war? Do you never hear the mutterings of its power? Are there +not signs of the coming whirlwind—signs unmistakable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>—roastings in the +South and lynchings in the North, bloody strikes from east to west, +deep-seated unrest among the nation's laboring masses, and the steadily +increasing cry of a multitude of suffering and helpless people writhing +under the heel of the great iniquity? Couple the signs of the times, +father, with an indisputable knowledge of corruption in politics, the +inefficacy of the law because of the absolute power of rum and 'boodle' +and the utter absence of any fixed moral principle in the dealings of +the great majority of the old party leaders, and have we not an 'issue' +that imperatively demands the attention of every loyal American?</p> + +<p>"The more I think, the less I blame the laboring element for their +dissatisfaction, bordering on madness at times. I feel that they have +just cause to be alarmed. Am I a pessimist, father, or is there a cancer +eating out the nation's life?"</p> + +<p>The young woman stood in the center of the room, erect and with arm +extended. The lawyer was looking at her with a gleam of fatherly +admiration; but as she closed the outburst with her question he grew +grave and stroked his beard. The facts were not unfamiliar to him.</p> + +<p>"I do wish," he said thoughtfully, "that the laboring element would see +that it is to their interests to stand by that party that promises them +the most in the way of reform, instead of making so much fuss and +striking and splitting into small parties that can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> hope to effect +nothing and might cripple their best friend and put the country +hopelessly in the hands of the political enemies of progress and reform."</p> + +<p>Jean laughed.</p> + +<p>"You look now for all the world, father, like a child whom I saw a few +days ago. I came upon her holding a doll's body, with a stump of neck +where the head had once been. She looked down at it tenderly and smiled +a dear little motherly smile. 'What do you see, child?' I asked. 'My +dolly's beautiful face,' she said. 'Where is it?' said I. 'It's gone,' +she answered, proudly, but with the fond look still in her eyes. You +view the reform element in your party in about the same light."</p> + +<p>"When did you turn champion of the labor party?" said the judge, a +trifle impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I have done no turning. There is but one party standing for the real +good of the people. What is the use of organizing a party to exterminate +trusts and then being afraid to measure arms politically with the +greatest trust on earth? The laboring element will seek their best +interests sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"Your party has added a few labor planks to catch votes."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, father. Almost from the beginning, some thirty years +ago, this party stood as it does now. The trouble with you is, if I may +be allowed to say it, you know nothing of the party I have discovered. +Let me read you its platform."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>And from a small, green book Jean began her reading, while Judge Thorn +listened attentively. But before she had finished James appeared with +the evening paper, and almost unconsciously he opened it. As he cast his +eyes on the page a smile overspread his face, and the words of the +reading were lost. Jean finished presently, and frowned a little, when +she saw her father so deeply engrossed in his paper. Presently he looked +up, the broad smile still upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Jean, my girl, listen!" and he read an account of the dramatic passage +of the anti-canteen law by Congress.</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn had been deeply interested in the canteen question. He had +known a boy, the son of a professional friend, who had been most +carefully and prayerfully reared at home in fear of the inheritance of +an appetite for liquor, but who had gone at his country's call to uphold +her honor, and had become a drunkard through the regimental canteen. He +himself had seen the fifty law-breaking canteens in Camp Thomas at +Chickamauga, with their daily sales amounting to hundreds of dollars. He +had seen something of the same evil at the little army post near their +own city; and a young man who had been his confidential clerk before the +war, and who was now with one of the volunteer regiments at Manila, had +written to him of the canteen: "It has been the curse of this army, and +has caused more deaths than the Mauser bullets. It is a recognized fact +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> in regiments where canteens are established drinking is not +restrained, rather encouraged, and numerous sprees are started that are +finished in the saloons just outside. Six cases of delirium tremens have +resulted from the establishment of the regimental groggery. Our army is +in danger a thousand times greater than any foreign foe may ever bring +against us. When will the government take action?"</p> + +<p>The lawyer's clear mind had seen where the responsibility for the whole +system lay, and, sorely tried by the President's inaction, partly to +lift from his party the odium of the canteen disgrace and partly as a +matter of real heart choice, he had worked with more than his usual +vigor to help bring to bear a pressure in Washington great enough to +abolish the army saloon.</p> + +<p>"Cheer, Jean!" he said. "Cheer for the party in power. The bill has passed."</p> + +<p>"Was it your party or public sentiment in spite of your party that +brought about the passage of the bill?" asked Jean.</p> + +<p>"Sentiment, my dear girl," said the judge, dogmatically, "without +machinery back of it, is good for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. If you remember, father, that has been the burden of my plea +for a new party. Answer me a question, and I will cheer so that I may be +heard a block. You tell me that the position of this party you ask me to +cheer for is high license; now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> here is a list of ninety-five of the +principal cities of the country, forty-six high license and forty-nine +low license. The total arrests for drunkenness in the high license +cities was 288,907, as against 208,537 in the low license cities. What I +want to know is this: How is this sort of a temperance measure going to +'promote temperance and morality'? Public control, local option, mulct +tax and other measures you devise figure up about the same way. Take +these statistics and in the light of them solve the puzzle for me."</p> + +<p>"Statistics are hard to dwell in unity with. Take them to a preacher. +This is a matter for them to deal with," laughed the judge.</p> + +<p>"Why do they not deal with them, then? Seven million church member +voters in this country! Why do not they focus their religion and do +something? I divine a reason. While they live all the rest of the year +with prayers and resolutions, they go out on a moral debauch on election +day with a disreputable individual known as Party."</p> + +<p>The judge stroked his beard and smiled. Then he turned again to his +paper. "No need," he said, complacently, "for a better party than what +we have. Listen!" and again he read the measure that had so pleased him. +"Is it not splendid, and so plainly worded that a wayfaring man, though +a fool or a third-rate lawyer, cannot mistake the meaning of it. Now +watch the machinery work. We shall have 'father's boy' back cheering for +the grand old party<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> yet," and the judge placed his hand fondly on +Jean's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep my eye on the 'machine,'" answered Jean, playfully, "but I am +woefully afraid it is punctured, though I wouldn't mention it for anything."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i054.jpg" width='447' height='700' alt="Vote for Whisky, Boys!" /></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>LESSONS OF AN ELECTION DAY.</h3> + +<p>It was the municipal election day. Judge Thorn was alone in his office. +He sat at his desk, which was piled with papers which he was busy +sorting. The door opened and Miss Thorn entered. The judge looked over +his shoulder. "You are a bit late," he said.</p> + +<p>Jean looked at her watch.</p> + +<p>"A trifle," she answered, "but I have always wanted to know what sort of +people run our government, and I have been out satisfying my curiosity. +I have been to the polls."</p> + +<p>"To the polls," echoed the judge, sharply, whirling around from his desk +with a sudden movement that scattered his papers over the floor.</p> + +<p>"That is what I said, father. I have been to the polls; and worse, I +took an active part in the proceedings by offering the voters 'no license' tickets."</p> + +<p>"Jean, I must say you have overstepped the bounds of all propriety. You +are a young lady who has been allowed a good many privileges, but this +is carrying things a little too far," said the judge, almost hotly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>"You were there this morning, I believe, father," Jean answered, +coolly.</p> + +<p>"I believe I was, but that is no reason you should go. It is no fit +place for a decent woman."</p> + +<p>"I will admit that, father, and I will go a little further and say it is +no fit place for a decent man either."</p> + +<p>"Men have grown used to such sights and sounds as are seen and heard +around a polling place."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. But if decent men can grow used to such things and escape +contamination, I think decent women can do the same; and if decent men +cannot I suppose you would advise them to stay away from the polls."</p> + +<p>"No; no, indeed. The bad element largely predominates now, and it is the +duty of every good citizen to stand by his colors at the ballot box. But +we will not discuss the matter further. The fact remains the same. Of +course you are of age and can go where you choose, yet I am nevertheless displeased."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you are displeased, father, and if my doing so will +afford you any satisfaction, I will promise you that I will not be +caught in such a howling mob again until I can go as an equal of some of +the specimens I have seen today."</p> + +<p>Jean removed her hat and jabbed the hat pin into it with some asperity.</p> + +<p>"I have been grossly insulted," she said.</p> + +<p>"Just what I have expected to hear," said her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> father, "and what can be +done when you put yourself in the way of it?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the remotest idea how I put myself in the way of it, but you +will probably be able to explain to me. Our venerable Uncle Sam is the +offending party, and the offense is something like the indignity you +would offer me if you gave Vivian all the privileges and love that you +should share with me, because she happened to be born with black hair, +and then should try to keep me in a state of blissful delusion by +telling me I had the sweeter disposition. There would be about as much +sense and justice in such a procedure, coming from you, as there is in +the way Uncle Sam treats women.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, a woman of good moral character, fairly intelligent, I hope, +with a good education, denied my right to the ballot because, forsooth, +I chanced to be born a woman and am considered too good. To-day's visit +to the polls has reminded me of this insult, tendered by our government +to its loyal women.</p> + +<p>"By the time I got within two blocks of the polling place, I could hear +the general commotion. When I arrived on the scene of action, I found a +number of women, of good standing in the community, trying to get men to +vote against license. Truly a humiliating business! But as they pressed +me, I took a few of the ballots and started into the crowd, while a +friendly looking policeman followed me.</p> + +<p>"I had hardly made a start when some one crossed my path yelling wildly, +'Vote for whisky, boys! Vote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> for whisky, boys!' He was that +half-witted, pumpkin-colored individual that you discharged last winter +because he did not know enough to keep the horses' feet clean. Armed +with his license ballot, he halted a second before me; then, fluttering +the ballot, which he held between his fingers under my nose, he shouted +again and again, 'Vote for whisky, boys!"</p> + +<p>"He gave me a look that told me plainer than a volume of words could +have done that he recognized his importance. He knew that he stood head +and shoulders above me in Uncle Sam's estimation, in spite of my +learning and morality, because on him had been bestowed a gift denied me.</p> + +<p>"I do not like it. I want the right of citizenship. I want to stand on +an equality with folks at least that do not know enough to clean a horse's feet."</p> + +<p>"It sounds very foolish, Jean," said her father, "for one of your birth +and breeding to be talking thus of an equality with such a character as this."</p> + +<p>"It does sound foolish, wonderfully foolish," admitted Jean. "You and I +know, father, that I am his superior, but when it comes to a question of +the social welfare, that is a very different thing. He well understands +that he is a privileged character there. He is a unit of society's +make-up, and where do I come in? Along with the Chinese, the ex-convict +and the insane! I do not relish any such sort of company. God made woman +capable of self-government, and expected it of her. Why should she not +be on a suffrage equality with man?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"Why do you want to vote, Jean?" asked the judge, as he would begin +with a witness.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to vote, father?" sharply replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"Why, my vote is my individuality in the body politic. I could not do +without my vote," said the judge, with a slight hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Do you not suppose I want some individuality, too?" came the prompt retort.</p> + +<p>The judge laughed.</p> + +<p>"I have every reason to believe you do," he said.</p> + +<p>"Do you not suppose that I would not like to help make the laws that +govern me?" asked Jean, taking upon her the role of inquisitor.</p> + +<p>"Men can make enough laws for both sexes, I guess," was the reply, +uttered in a tone that carried a suspicion of dismissal.</p> + +<p>"I guess they can," persisted Jean; "but what sort of laws have they +been? Heathenish, some of them!"</p> + +<p>"For instance?"</p> + +<p>"Laws that have been on our statute books allowing fathers to will away +their unborn children; laws allowing the father to appoint guardians of +whatever kind or creed over his children, leaving the mother powerless. +And what shall we say about the abominable laws made by men everyone of +them, that legalize the sale of drink?"</p> + +<p>"Well, a woman is a woman, Jean, and the polls is not a fit place for a +woman," and the judge set his lips very firmly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"That is the assertion you made at the outset, father. It is no +argument, and much as I respect you, I can hardly accept it as final. +You know, father, that if polling places are not fit for decent women, +neither are they fit for decent men, and the sooner decent people get +around and clean them up, the better it will be for the country. Come, +now, if you have a sound, logical reason why women should not vote, bring it on."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the judge, "even admitting that the advent of women in +politics might have a cleansing effect, women do not want the ballot."</p> + +<p>"What women?" demanded Jean.</p> + +<p>"The majority of women."</p> + +<p>"How do you know they do not?"</p> + +<p>"It is to be supposed that if they were clamoring to any great extent +for it we would hear of it through the papers."</p> + +<p>"What papers? Papers that oppose it to the bitter end? I can show you +papers by the dozen and the score that would enlighten you along this +line. Women do not ask, but rather they demand, the ballot. But this is +begging the question. If it is right for women to have the ballot, it is +right, and if it is wrong, it is wrong—that is all there is to it. Now, +father, tell me the reasons."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jean, have not I given you reasons and have you not overruled +them, every one?" was the almost testy answer. "A woman is a woman, and +God never intended her to vote."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>Jean laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at?" demanded her father.</p> + +<p>"Why, at you; you are back just where you started. Women must not vote +because they are women. If you have nothing better to offer there is no +use of going over the grounds again. This makes me think of the time I +studied circulating decimals."</p> + +<p>The judge joined in Jean's laugh, and turned again to his papers, as if +glad of a diversion.</p> + +<p>After Judge Thorn had picked up and rearranged his papers he looked +toward Jean, who had suddenly grown quiet. In her face he saw something +that was new to him and that in some way sent a little jealous pang to +his heart. Her face was a dream study. A soft, far-away expression +rested over it, and her father knew that she was somewhere, away from +her surroundings, but he did not interrupt her. Presently she spoke:</p> + +<p>"I saw a man to-day."</p> + +<p>"I supposed that you had seen several."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course," the girl admitted, "but I rarely notice men, and that +I remember this one so distinctly and think of him surprises me. He was +tall and broad shouldered and dressed in a navy blue business suit, and +I think probably he was the handsomest man I have ever seen, though I +cannot tell why I think so. His hair and eyes were brown, his hair +almost black, it was so dark, and a trifle curly. His eyes were clear +and honest looking, with a touch of fun in them and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> something else that +I have not been able to define, but that I liked. He wore a mustache, +but it only partially concealed his mouth. I think perhaps it was his +mouth that I liked best. It was a firm mouth, maybe a hard one, but I +admire a firm man."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn laughed.</p> + +<p>"You must have examined him pretty closely."</p> + +<p>"No, father, I saw him at a glance some way. Perhaps he impressed me as +he did because I was so disappointed in him. I saw him standing at a +short distance from the animated crowd around the polls, looking on with +an air of mingled amusement and disgust. I made up my mind that he was +the very individual who would take one of my 'no-license' votes, so I asked him.</p> + +<p>"He took off his hat and looked down at me, for he is tall, a look made +of a little astonishment, a bit of fun and, I imagined, some pity, and +said: 'I am really very sorry that I cannot do as you wish, but I cannot +consistently vote against license, being myself engaged in the liquor business.'</p> + +<p>"Of course I said no more, but I was never so surprised in my life, and +to tell the truth, I was disappointed."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn looked relieved.</p> + +<p>"I believe I know now why I remembered him so well," continued Jean. "He +was the only liquor dealer among those I spoke to to-day, and ignorantly +I accosted many, who refused my ticket in a gentlemanly manner. Yes, I +have now seen a gentlemanly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> liquor dealer. I wonder if I will ever see +him again. But see! Here are the horses, father. Come, let us go," she +said, taking his arm.</p> + +<p>"Poor father! I am sorry for you. It must be a trial to have so strange +a child, but really I cannot help it, and I am sure you will forgive me +when you remember that I am 'my father's boy.'"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE NATION'S DEFENDERS.</h3> + +<p>It was one of those prophetic days of early spring when heaven and earth +are filled with faint, far promises of the sunshine and verdure of the +summer, and when an expectant hush fills all the air, save as now and +then a breath of the awakening south wind stirs the faded memories of +last autumn's glories where the dried leaves cluster among the thickets +or in the fence corners.</p> + +<p>The Thorn carriage occupied by Jean and the coachman, James, was rolling +along a stretch of suburban road.</p> + +<p>Jean had just left the home of the Crowleys', and sat in a reverie of +sympathy and indignation. Personally she felt that she was absolutely +safe from any harm from the traffic in misery and death; but this very +fact made her more pitiful and more determined to use what influence and +power she could command against it. The carriage slowed up a bit where the road divided.</p> + +<p>"Which way, Miss Jean?"</p> + +<p>"To the army post, James," and she continued her brown study, seeming to +notice nothing of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>landscape until they entered the massive iron +gates of the reservation.</p> + +<p>Just inside the gates, on either side, heavy cannons were grouped in +triangular fashion and surmounted with cones of cannon balls. At regular +intervals black sign-boards, bright with gilt lettering, gave notice +that just so far and no farther, and just so fast and no faster, the +public might travel in this well-arranged institution of the government.</p> + +<p>The drive around the inclosure was a long one, and when the Thorn +carriage had reached the side farthest removed from the buildings, a +sudden jar and crash startled Jean, and suddenly she found herself lying on the roadside.</p> + +<p>Fortunately she was not hurt, and after she had brushed the dust from +her eyes and pinned a rent in her skirt she found that only a slight +break in the carriage had caused the accident. So after tying the horses +to a hitching post at some distance, James pushed the carriage to one +side, and with the broken part started to a blacksmith shop at no great +distance outside the post, Jean agreeing to wait for him, unless he +should be gone too long.</p> + +<p>After James had disappeared behind the trees, Jean seated herself +comfortably on a bench near by, and with her head resting against a +majestic oak, gazed upward at the soft spring sky showing through the +brown network of the branches. A bird a great way off circled against +the floating clouds for a time and disappeared.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>At one end of the inclosure the drill ground, checkered and bare, could +be seen. Through the trees the red brick walls of the houses in the +officers' quarters showed, while, looking in another direction, she +could see a number of stone buildings with porches running their entire +length, onto which opened many doors.</p> + +<p>A little removed from all these was a common frame building, which, +judging by the number of soldiers gathered around it, was the popular +resort of the post. This was the canteen.</p> + +<p>Jean's eyes fell with displeasure upon this. It seemed to her like a +dark blot upon an otherwise fair picture; like a grave mistake in an +otherwise well-ordered institution.</p> + +<p>A couple of peafowl trailed their plumage over the dry brown grass +across the way from her, and in the slanting rays of the sun they looked +like brilliant jewels against the rough and dingy background. But their +harsh notes seemed at variance with their beauty, and this, too, made +Jean think of the government—a government born more beautiful than any +other, and reared in its infancy with the care of a child, yet +presenting to the world, by its administration, which is a government's +voice, an inconsistency appalling.</p> + +<p>Far from broken axles and torn skirts Jean's thoughts traveled, until +she was brought to a sense of her surroundings by footsteps, and looking +up she saw that two soldiers had turned the curve that shut off the view +of the main road and were coming toward her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>One was a thick-set man of about middle age. He had that untidy +appearance that marks a slovenly person, and will appear even in a +soldier in spite of all wise and well-directed efforts on the part of a +government to keep him neat. His large, light gray, campaign hat was +pulled down well over his eyes and a short cob pipe was clinched between his teeth.</p> + +<p>The other man was younger and not as heavy. He wore a long coat, open +from the neck down, and his cap, set on one side of his head, left his +bleared and bloated face in full view.</p> + +<p>As they came nearer the younger man staggered fearfully, and Jean knew +that he was intoxicated. A feeling, half fear and half loathing, took +possession of her as these two ill-visaged privates came nearer; but +supposing they would pass, she kept her seat.</p> + +<p>"Take-a-hic-your pipe-a-hic-out, in-a-hic-the presence of-a-hic-ladies," +the man in the long cloak said.</p> + +<p>The thick-set man took his pipe from his teeth and knocked the ashes out +against the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>They were directly in front of Jean now.</p> + +<p>The man in the long cloak made a tottering bow and addressed her.</p> + +<p>"May a-hic we sit down?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Jean, the blood rushing to her face at their boldness, +and she hurriedly started to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Keep-a-hic-your seat and-a-hic-don't get agitated; +we're-a-hic-gentle-mench."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>The thick-set man had already seated himself, and the other man +followed his example, forcing Jean to a place by his side.</p> + +<p>Judging the thick-set man to be the least intoxicated and more decent, +she appealed to him for protection. The lower part only of his face was +visible, but she saw that he laughed.</p> + +<p>"He don't mean no harm. Keep still and he'll go on about his business," he assured her.</p> + +<p>Jean's face blazed and her heart beat with the force of four.</p> + +<p>The tall man emptied his mouth of tobacco juice and other fluids and +substances, and the sickening mixture fell so close to Jean's foot that +her boot was spattered. Then he wiped the dribbles on the back of his +hand and turned to her.</p> + +<p>He bent so close that his hot, foul breath struck her with staggering +force and his bloated face almost touched her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You're-a-hic-a little peach," he said, with a leer, +"and-a-hic-I'm-a-hic-a going to k-k-kiss you."</p> + +<p>It was then Jean screamed with all her might, and at the same moment a +man sprang to her rescue from a light buggy that had rounded the bend of +the drive unobserved.</p> + +<p>The thick-set man suddenly disappeared, but the other soldier, either +too drunk for rapid movement or too muddled to understand the gravity of +the situation, only rose to his feet and stood leering at Jean with +disgusting admiration.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>The next instant he was felled to the earth and a broad-shouldered man +stood over him ready to render a second blow if occasion demanded.</p> + +<p>The soldier made an attempt to rise.</p> + +<p>"Lie there, you brute," the man cried, hotly, and the drunken fellow obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Nice-a-hic-way to treat a-hic-man that's +protecting-a-hic-the-a-hic-honor-a-hic, the honor of——" he muttered.</p> + +<p>But the gentleman turned to the woman, and Jean, trembling with fear and +indignation, with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes, looked a second time +into the face of the gentlemanly liquor dealer.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you came!" she gasped, and held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>As they turned to his buggy the gentleman cast a glance back at the +prostrate soldier, who had crawled behind a bush to sleep until removed +to the guardhouse.</p> + +<p>"Such creatures are a disgrace to a civilized government," he exclaimed, +with ill-concealed wrath.</p> + +<p>"Our government is a disgrace to itself," she added. "It creates such +creatures by a legal process, and yonder is the factory," and she +pointed in the direction of the canteen.</p> + +<p>"Canteen beer—canteen beer," she began again, with warmth, but stopped, +for she knew that she was very much excited and that she might not speak wisely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>If she had opened an argument with the gentleman at her side she would +have found that he was well posted with the old arguments about the +canteen being an institution to keep the soldiers from the greed of evil +saloons outside the different posts, but her companion respected her +silence, and did not speak until they had passed the great iron gate, +when it became necessary.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "if you will direct the way, and have no objections, it +will give me pleasure to see you safely home."</p> + +<p>"I am Miss Thorn," said Jean, giving him her address.</p> + +<p>"Miss Thorn? Perhaps you are related to Judge Thorn?"</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Jean, smiling.</p> + +<p>"That is nice. I have had the pleasure of meeting the judge, and I do +not know a man whom I would rather oblige. He is a man all men honor."</p> + +<p>"I am his daughter," Jean said, proudly, "and I assure you my father +will feel under lasting obligations to you for your kindness to me this +afternoon, Mr. ——"</p> + +<p>"Allison," the gentleman said.</p> + +<p>"Allison?" It was Jean's turn to look surprised.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam. Allison—Gilbert Allison."</p> + +<p>"Not of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy?"</p> + +<p>"The same, madam."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with mingled wonder and regret. The firm name of +Allison, Russell & Joy to her mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> was a synonym for heartless +destruction of happiness and life. The traffic itself was a great evil +generality, and as such met condemnation. But in generalities, as in +mountain ranges, there are specific points that tower out distinctively +for consideration. Such a pinnacle of iniquity this liquor firm had +seemed to Jean to be since her acquaintance with the Crowleys.</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken," she observed at length.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison had been amused before. Now he laughed. "If I am +mistaken, life has been a vast mistake," he said, "for I have supposed +myself to be this same Allison for over thirty years. But why do you think so?"</p> + +<p>Jean shook her head sadly.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand it at all," she said, gravely.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon; but if you will explain to me the trouble, perhaps I +may be able to enlighten your understanding."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand how the same person can be so kind and yet so +cruel. I do not understand how one person can risk his life to save a +life—for perhaps you saved mine to-day—and yet cause death, and you +have been the cause of death."</p> + +<p>Jean spoke slowly and looked grave.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison felt like laughing again, but politely refrained.</p> + +<p>"I have been accused of a number of things in my life," he said, +good-naturedly, "but, until to-day, murder has been omitted from the list."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>"There are different modes of procedure—but murder is murder after +all!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, but I was not aware that I had been connected with a 'procedure.'"</p> + +<p>"Men deal out slow death for gold and trust its clinking rattle to still +the groans and cryings that they cause." Jean spoke reflectively, as if +to herself. "In savage countries where there is no Christianity, where +all is black, human life is sometimes offered as a sacrifice to gods. +Here in Christian America an altar is piled high with mother hearts and +manhood and immortal souls.</p> + +<p>"This sacrifice goes on unceasingly; the altar fires are never out, and +the wail of the little ones and the groans of the crushed that go up +from this great altar only cause this god to laugh.</p> + +<p>"This god is made of atoms. EVERY ATOM IS A MAN.</p> + +<p>"All this time the Christian men of this Christian nation stand around +in a great circle, weeping and calling on a Christian's God to hasten +the day when this other god shall be ground to dust, meantime mocking +their God by legalizing this monstrous thing with their ballots."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison had probably never heard a young lady talk exactly as this +one talked, and yet he enjoyed it, and watched the motion of her hand as +she used it to impress her words.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I do not understand you even yet," he said, when she +paused. "Do you refer to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> tariff or seal fisheries or female +suffrage or war or what?"</p> + +<p>"I refer to the rum power in America. That is the god I mean. The most +heartless, depraved monopoly on earth, yet men and governments grovel in +the dust at its feet and cringe like dogs before its power."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison was silent, and she continued, presently, turning her face to him.</p> + +<p>"It has always seemed to me that the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy was +an important part of this great iniquity; partly, I presume, because I +happen to be acquainted with a family that has been utterly destroyed by +that firm. Tell me truly—have they, have YOU never heard wails and +cries and bitter prayers in the stillness of the night? Have you never +felt the burden of your <i>awful</i> sin?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison smiled.</p> + +<p>"I am sure," he said, "I have never heard any weeping or wailing that I +have been aware of, and really I hope to be pardoned, but the burden +that you speak of has failed to make itself felt."</p> + +<p>"Well, you will hear it some day. Even legal, licensed murder will have +its reckoning time. You will see a face some day; you will hear a voice +that will haunt you like the wail of a lost soul."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison shrugged his shoulders as if in apprehension.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," he said; "but Miss Thorn, I am afraid you do not enjoy the +society of a liquor dealer."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>"On general principles, no. And yet I have enjoyed yours very much this +afternoon, you may be sure. I thank you for it, and—I am sorry that you +are a 'man atom' of the great iniquity."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you are sorry," he answered, and then the Thorn +homestead rose in view.</p> + +<p>"I never was so frightened in my life," Jean said, as they drove in +front of the gate. "It seems that no one is safe from insult and injury +in a land where liquor is a legalized drink. I never thought that I +should fall a victim to it."</p> + +<p>"Or be rescued by a liquor dealer."</p> + +<p>"That is true," and Jean laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>Then she thanked him again, and for half a minute he held her small, +gloved hand in his, as he assisted her from the buggy.</p> + +<p>"It is I who am grateful that Fate allowed me to be the knight." Then he +lifted his hat gallantly, and Jean was gone, but her parting smile stayed with him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE JUDGE MAKES A DISCOVERY.</h3> + +<p>After the adventure at the army post Mr. Allison called not infrequently +at the home of the Thorns, and though, of course, cordially received by +both Jean and her father, nearly always succeeded in leaving Jean +thoroughly vexed with him. She made speeches and drew statistics for +him, enough in strength and numbers to convert the traffic itself, and +was generally rewarded for her pains by an amused look and a +good-natured laugh. He seemed to her to be asleep, sound asleep; and try +as best she might, it seemed impossible to awaken him; and yet she +looked for his visits and enjoyed the task she had set herself about +more than she would have cared to admit.</p> + +<p>The fact was, Mr. Allison had been born asleep as far as his relation +with the liquor question was concerned. From his father he inherited his +interest in the business firm of which he was the junior member, and +having been brought up in this atmosphere, he neither knew nor cared for +any other. A man possessing even half a portion of real integrity is so +rarely found engaged in the liquor business that this man's character +was often spoken of. Whether he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> honest may be doubted, but certain +it was, he was not bidding for the church vote by making promises and +prayers. Yet the cloak of respectability that he wore made him ten times +more dangerous than one of baser worth would have been; but his cloak, +it is well to remember, differed only in color from the cloak worn by +unnumbered men, to-day posing before a long-suffering people as Christian leaders.</p> + +<p>In spite of the indifference of Mr. Allison and the vexation of Jean, +each felt the subtle power of attraction in the other that neither could explain.</p> + +<p>One night when sitting closer than usual to her side, he calmly +possessed himself of one of her hands.</p> + +<p>"You are quite an enigma to me," he said. "How can you be a bit +comfortable in such close proximity to a representative of the ungodly traffic?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she answered, pulling at her hand. "I will go away."</p> + +<p>"Will you?" and he tightened the pressure of his fingers.</p> + +<p>Jean dropped her head on her free hand and was very still. Mr. Allison, +watching her, presently saw a tear-drop on her cheek.</p> + +<p>He put his arm around her, and would have drawn her to him, but with a +firm, gentle touch, the meaning of which was unmistakable, she pushed +his arm aside, and, rising, stood before him.</p> + +<p>The faint trace of tears still marked her eyes, and her voice was a trifle unsteady.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>"Mr. Allison, we cannot be even friends! We just cannot! You are a 'man +atom of the great iniquity.'"</p> + +<p>She crossed the room, and, raising a shade, stood looking absently into +the moonlight. Gilbert Allison leaned forward and seemed trying to +obtain the solution of some mystery from the outlines of her figure.</p> + +<p>She still stood there when Judge Thorn entered from an adjoining room, +and while he conversed with her liquor-dealer lover, Jean left the room +to return no more that night.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Allison was not thus to be disposed of.</p> + +<p>A few evenings passed, and he was again announced a visitor at the Thorn +home, and Jean appeared really very glad to see him, considering that +they were never to be friends. After a few moments of casual +conversation he took from his pocket an evening paper, folded so that +she could not miss the reading, and held it before her eyes.</p> + +<p>From the item thus displayed she learned that Gilbert Allison, late of +the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, had withdrawn his interest in the +firm to be placed in other investments.</p> + +<p>The conversation that followed the reading of this announcement, while +confidential, was not a long one, but at its close Gilbert Allison knew +more of that firmness born of a woman's conviction than he had ever +dreamed.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Judge Thorn looked comfortable in his leather chair, his slippered feet +on a hassock and a new book in his hand. At any rate, Jean thought so, +as she studied him from between the parted curtains, but she was +relentless. Stealing softly behind him, she pressed her hands over his +eyes. The judge started, and the young lady laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>Then she tried to steal away his book, but he held it.</p> + +<p>"Let me put it up, father, I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>The judge still held the book.</p> + +<p>"Then I will say 'please.'"</p> + +<p>"Is it to be a political conversation?" he asked, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Not a breath of politics about it," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Any statistics to be brought in?" he questioned further.</p> + +<p>Jean laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Really, father," she said, "I think I may hope to win you yet. When a +judge, and a Republican at that, finds it hard to vindicate his party's +doings, and finds statistics overwhelmingly against his party's policy +on moral questions, he will look for better things in better places. At +this period of his political transmigration I believe a man is more to +be pitied for misplaced confidence than blamed for tardy understanding. +No, father, not a statistic to-night, unless you compel me to bring them +out in self-defense."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn slowly released his book.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"Now," said Jean triumphantly, "we are ready for a nice long talk, that +is, if you feel equal to the task of talking. What I have to say will +not take long. It is about a little interview between Mr. Allison +and—Judge Thorn's daughter, and if I had been less of a 'crank,' I +suppose you would have had another son-in-law in prospect."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" questioned the judge. "Then I have been mistaken when I have +thought at times that you cared for him."</p> + +<p>Jean remained silent a few minutes, then looked up quickly into her father's face.</p> + +<p>"You are my best, my dearest friend, father. I will tell you truly. You +have not been mistaken. I love Gilbert Allison, and I cannot help it to save my life."</p> + +<p>When Judge Thorn spoke again his voice had changed somewhat. He spoke as +if his words were escaping from beneath a weight.</p> + +<p>"Better than you do me, Jean?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer at once; then she caught her father's eye, and smiled as she said:</p> + +<p>"You want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Go on," was the judge's quiet reply.</p> + +<p>"Then it is 'yes,' father."</p> + +<p>A shadow passed over the face of the judge for an instant that carried +Jean back to her childhood days, when she used to wonder, as she mused, +why it was that her father always looked so sad.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>"You have all the sweet ways of your mother, child," said the old man; +"and in you I know the traits and intellect that I had hoped to nurture +in the boy. For years you have been my comrade—my best loved daughter. +I am growing old, now, quite old, and you must leave me."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he ran his fingers through his hair, as if in its thinness +and fading color he could discern advancing years.</p> + +<p>Jean caught the hand that hung over the arm of the chair between her two +and pressed it to her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You make me happy, father!" she whispered. "Do you remember long ago I +told you that you would some day be glad I was your boy? And so you are. +Perhaps it is because I am so like you—I only wish I knew I was—or +perhaps I have always loved you best, and yet I have not loved you enough, father."</p> + +<p>"Yes, child. Yes, enough to drive away a grief and make me happy."</p> + +<p>"Then, remember, father; remember always and forever, that I do not love +you any less. If I have come to love another more, I tell you truly, I +cannot help it. It has come to me—just come and—come and come; and I +have fought it every step of the way. A few times I have pictured to +myself such a man as I might some time call my husband. He has been +learned and clean and upright, with an irrepressible spirit of +patriotism, hindered by no party ties that bind to money instead of +moral questions; daunted by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> no fear, and bound by no memory of a past; +and the man has come, and he is—a gentlemanly liquor dealer. But I will +not leave you, father. I have no thought other than to stay here."</p> + +<p>This information did not seem to impress the judge.</p> + +<p>"You say so, Jean. You mean so; but you will be married, and a wife's +duties come before a daughter's."</p> + +<p>Jean laughed again.</p> + +<p>"You look almost as disconsolate as Mr. Allison did the last time I saw +him. Cheer up! I am not going to be married that I know of."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"No, father."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"I see you know that Mr. Allison is a liquor dealer no longer, or you +would hardly ask."</p> + +<p>"I know. And I know that he sacrifices something in getting out of it at +this time. He is a clean man, and though his name has been connected +with the interest, that has been all. One could hardly imagine him +standing behind a bar."</p> + +<p>"He said something like that in his own defense. Let me see—he said the +national politics was the great mother of all lesser political plays, +and that at such elections he had cast his vote just as you and your +preacher have always done. Therefore, as you were temperance men, so he +was a temperance man. How was that for argument?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>Judge Thorn laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should not wonder if he were as much of a temperance man as +some other folks, after all."</p> + +<p>"The more shame for the 'other folks,'" said Jean, a touch of sternness in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Have it that way if you wish, but to the original question. I am in no +hurry for you to marry, but I suppose you will some time, and Allison is +a square man. What he has done in this business move he has done not +because he has changed his views on some matters, but all for the love +of a woman, and that means much, my girl, these days of fortune hunters and deceivers."</p> + +<p>"All for the love of a woman," Jean repeated softly to herself. "That is what he said."</p> + +<p>They were both silent a few seconds.</p> + +<p>"You have not answered my question, Jean."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I forgot, father. You asked me why I could not promise to be the +wife of Mr. Allison. I will tell you, as I told him, and I think you +will understand as he did.</p> + +<p>"If I ever have a husband, he must do right from an honest conviction of +right, and because humanity and justice and God demand the right, and +never for the 'love of a woman,' although that is a beautiful temptation."</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn looked inquiringly at his daughter, and she continued:</p> + +<p>"He was not prepared for this, I think, but he understood what I meant, +and said that I asked of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> him the impossible; that it was impossible for +him to see the liquor traffic in the light that I do.</p> + +<p>"But I am sure, father, that the underlying principle of my idea is +right, and God makes it possible for all men to see the right, if they seek to."</p> + +<p>Jean had risen and stood before her father, her face aglow and her eyes shining.</p> + +<p>This mood passed shortly, and she returned to her chair. She clasped her +hands behind her head and began again softly, as if speaking to herself:</p> + +<p>"And then—then he sat down in a chair by the window, with his face +turned away. It was very still in the room.</p> + +<p>"I went and stood close by his side, but I hardly dared to speak, it all +seemed so strange somehow. I wanted—Oh, you do not know how I longed to +throw myself into his arms, just to try to wake him; but you know 'propriety'.</p> + +<p>"After a time—perhaps an hour, perhaps a minute—he suddenly rose and +kissed me on the forehead.</p> + +<p>"'Goodby, dear,' he said, 'I think I had better not come any more,' and +he left the room without another word.</p> + +<p>"After the door had closed behind him and I heard him stepping down the +walk, I put both my hands over my heart, just so, and held it tight, for +it seemed that it would bound out and go with him."</p> + +<p>They sat in silence a little while after Jean ceased speaking, and then +she stepped behind her father's chair and dropped her arms around his neck.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>"No, father, you shall never be left alone as long as this big world +holds Jean. Lonesomeness is so big and dreary!"</p> + +<p>She pressed her lips to his forehead and turned away.</p> + +<p>Had such a favor been meted out to the disconsolate Mr. Allison, he +would no doubt have been immediately transported to a state of unalloyed +happiness. Not so with the judge. The very act, the very words, told him +that the woman's affections had been divided, and the streak of +selfishness that runs through all humanity had not been overlooked in his make-up.</p> + +<p>"Are you not really ashamed of me, father? Just think of it! Me, Jean +Thorn, of sound mind and adult years, falling in love with a liquor +dealer! It is too strange to believe, and yet I believe the situation +would be perfectly delightful if—if—well, if I were not 'my father's +boy.' But I will survive, let it be hoped, and if this maddening, +sickening, altogether unmanageable love one reads of had rushed upon me +like a whirlwind, it would be the same. The man I marry must not be a +'man atom of the great iniquity,' not even to the extent of his vote."</p> + +<p>And lest she should mar the impression she hoped to leave upon her +father, Jean hurried from the room, waving her hand to him as she passed through the door.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>In her own room she sat down to think. Mechanically she unbound the +coils of red-brown hair that crowned her head, and holding the quaintly +carved silver pins which seemed a part of her identity in her hand, she +began a march to and fro across the room. There was no smile on her +face, rather a pained, unnatural look that her dearest friend would not +have recognized. Presently she stopped.</p> + +<p>Raising her hands, the shining hair rippling over her shoulders like a +garment, she lifted her face heavenward.</p> + +<p>"My Father!" she whispered, brokenly, "he is asleep. Touch his eyes with +kindly fingers that the scales may drop away. Put the hollow of thy hand +around his heart and kindle there the love that means the brotherhood of +man, for I love him—I love him!"</p> + +<p>Even as she stood, with her face upturned from the wealth of flowing +hair, the man of her prayer was in the toils of fate, seeing a "face" +and hearing a voice that touched his ear and clung to his heart, "like +the wail of a lost soul."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/i086.jpg" width='470' height='700' alt="God, she cried, Look at my hands!" /></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>"WHAT FOR."</h3> + +<p>Had Jean Thorn been less interested in the family of Damon Crowley she +might have thought it impossible to keep track of them as they moved +about. Mr. Crowley reformed every time he got drunk, and got drunk every +time he reformed. At such times he made the living place he called home, +whether in the filthy garret or rickety shanty, a bedlam. At the present +period of their existence the Crowleys were living in a forlorn hovel on +the outskirts of the city.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crowley thought himself lucky if he chanced to be about when one of +Miss Thorn's visits took place, for she paid well for the plain work +Mrs. Crowley did, and he always came in for a share. The time had been +when this man would have blushed at the thought of asking his wife, or, +indeed, any one, for help, but that time had gradually gone by as his +manhood dissolved itself in drink. Now he could whine and beg and, not +being successful that way, curse and beat to gain his end. He wanted +money for whisky worse than ever now, and had less, but the burning in +his stomach grew no less to suit the impoverished condition of his purse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>The disease caused by the legalized drink traffic was eating his life +away little by little, and as the fire burned it called for more fuel.</p> + +<p>One night when every little gland and fibre in his whole being and all +the great ulcers in his diseased stomach seemed like fierce flames +cutting and licking and torturing him, half-drunk, he staggered from one +grog shop to another, begging for something to drink.</p> + +<p>He had hung around the shanty home until he was almost sure that Miss +Thorn would not come, then had started out to try his chances. He had +begged a little, had pawned a garment belonging to another for a little +more, and yet the maddening thirst was not quenched.</p> + +<p>It was growing late. He made a circuit of his old haunts, but it was +useless—no money, no drink. For his pleading he was mocked. For his +curses he was struck and put out. He staggered toward home, the stinging +fire within him quickening his pace. One hope remained. Perhaps Miss +Thorn had been there after he had gone. Perhaps, hidden away in the +little box, he might find a few pennies—enough for this time.</p> + +<p>The houses that he passed were for the most part dark, except where some +low place cast its straggling light into the night. He hurried on, +stumbling now and then. No time could be more suitable for him. He would +find the family, what there was left of it, asleep. He would sneak in +like a cat and find the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> box—perhaps the pennies. He rubbed his hot +hands nervously together in anticipation.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to get into the house, and he found it still and +dark. Cautiously he tiptoed to the window and ran his fingers over the +casing above it. Nothing but dust. Next he tried the hole in the +chimney. Here his unsteady fingers grasped something he thought to be +the box, but it proved to be only a loose brick. Growing impatient, he +went to the cupboard and fumbled in the corner. No box. He was getting +reckless now. Taking a match from his pocket he drew it across the wall. +It sputtered and cast a ray long enough for him to find the lamp, which he lit.</p> + +<p>The little boy Johnnie, in a bed close by, stirred slightly, rolled over +a couple of times, and sat up in bed and opened his eyes. Mr. Crowley, +having lost all control of himself, was noisily peering into every nook +and cranny. As the father moved nearer, the boy crept closer to his +mother, and, huddling by her side, began to cry. It was when he heard +the boy's cry that the fire within him licked up the last of his manhood +and the Devil had full sway. He set the lamp down with a bang and sprang +toward the bed. The boy threw his arms around his mother and gave a cry of terror.</p> + +<p>"Mamma! O mamma! Hold me tight! Don't let him get me! O mamma! mamma! +mamma!" The mother held the child close, but the man had seized him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>They struggled for a minute—a madman's strength and a devil's cunning +against a mother's love—unequal struggle!</p> + +<p>The man—a demon now—had the child.</p> + +<p>He cast his eye around the room and picked up a knotty piece of wood. +The boy pulled frantically back toward his mother, trembling and +screaming, but the die was cast.</p> + +<p>A volley of oaths burst from the drunken fiend's lips.</p> + +<p>"Not much this time! No help now, till I'm done with you. Damn you! +Stand up," and he gave the boy a blow that caused him to twist with +pain, but he steadied his voice to ask:</p> + +<p>"What for, papa? What for?" But the words were lost in screams, for the +blows kept falling.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crowley rushed up and caught his uplifted arm.</p> + +<p>"You will kill the child! You are mad. Help! Somebody help!" she cried; +but no help came. Drunken rows are a part of our civilization.</p> + +<p>The boy had succeeded in getting away, but the unequal struggle was soon +at an end, and Mrs. Crowley was struck to the floor by a heavy blow.</p> + +<p>The father dragged the terror-stricken little fellow from behind the bed.</p> + +<p>"Come! Damn you! I'm not done yet! I'll teach you to be scared of your +dad and to yell like an idiot when I come into my own house," and the +blows fell rapidly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>On the little hands when they were raised to protect the head, on the +head when the hands dropped down in pain, on the legs when the body +twisted in agony, on the back when the body bent to shield the legs, and +the childish voice broke through the screams at intervals:</p> + +<p>"What for? Oh, what for?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crowley looked around the room for something with which to fight +the man. She seized an iron frying-pan and struck him with all the force +she could summon, but the blow was insufficient.</p> + +<p>He loosed the child only long enough to push his wife violently to the +wall and choke her until she gasped and grew dizzy, adding a couple of +blows as a finishing touch, and after tossing her weapon from the window +again turned his attention to the child.</p> + +<p>"Not done yet! No! Not done! Take this—and this—and this," and heavy +blows sounded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa! tell me what for, and I'll never, never do it any more. +Please, papa, what for?" and the child raised his terror-stricken face +to his father's, but the brute struck the little upturned face.</p> + +<p>"No—you won't do it again when I get done. I'm not done yet. Not done."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crowley again sprang upon the madman, and, drawing her fingers +tightly around his neck, threw her whole force into the grasp, but he +loosened it. Then he kicked her out the door and bolted it fast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>The child had fallen to the floor, but partly arose as the father +returned.</p> + +<p>"Not done yet—no—not done," and he struck the poor, bleeding body many +blows.</p> + +<p>The boy sank back on the floor. His screams were ended; but as he lay +there he still moaned, "What for?"</p> + +<p>Then the moaning ceased, the eyelids quivered and the breath grew faint.</p> + +<p>But even then his father had not exercised enough of his "personal +liberty." The imps of hell hissed him on. The torturing fire within him +leaped higher and higher, searing his soul. He bent low over the body +and beat it still, till the tender bones crushed under the blows. Then +throwing the knotty stick, quivering with his own child's blood, into a +corner, with a fearful scream the murderer dashed out into the night.</p> + +<p>Then the mother crept back, but it was too late. The little life had +gone. From somewhere out of the mysterious, breezy night, perhaps, the +spirit of Maggie had come, and had taken the soul of her poor brother to +a city where pain and tears are unknown.</p> + +<p>But another voice had been added to the chorus of suffering children as +by the million they cry out in their pain till the appeal of outraged +childhood goes thundering and reverberating into the ear of the Almighty +Father, while he writes the "What for" of their wailing protest in the +book of his remembrance as the record unto the day of Christian +America's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> reckoning, in letters that burn brighter as the curse waxes +worse and worse.</p> + +<p>Against the name of the church, too, as she wraps her righteous robes +around herself and will not, in her dignity and purity, set her mighty +foot on the neck of the curse, while drunkards by unnumbered thousands +stagger under her colored glass windows to Hell, he writes WHAT FOR? and +the letters burn on.</p> + +<p>Against the name of the Christian whose vote makes strong the party that +legalizes the saloon and the drunkard he writes "WHAT FOR?"</p> + +<p>What man shall stand in the presence of the Holy One, when the books are +opened, and tell WHAT FOR?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>GILBERT ALLISON HEARS A VOICE.</h3> + +<p>It was this night that two travelers were journeying across a bit of +suburban country toward their city homes. They were out later than they +had expected to be, perhaps. At any rate, it was somewhere close to the +hour of midnight and they were approaching an old graveyard.</p> + +<p>As they neared the ancient burying ground Mr. Allison, for he was one of +the riders, became less talkative, and rode closer to his friend, a +young man of about his own age.</p> + +<p>"Hist, Sammy! Didn't you hear something? Ah! Now it has gone again. You +were not quick enough. Keep your ear open. At the turning of the wind it +may come again."</p> + +<p>"Well, by grabs! Gillie, where will you end?" laughed the other. "First +love, now ghosts. Listening for spooks because we happen to be passing +the burying spot of some of our ancestors. Allow me to alight and pick a +switch for the poor boy to defend himself with when the ghosts set upon him."</p> + +<p>"Sammie! Sammie! I hear it again! It's coming on the breeze. Listen now!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>Gilbert Allison stopped his horse and leaned eagerly forward. Sammie +listened, but was again too late. The dead leaves rustled close by over +the sunken graves; the tall, bare trees waved their skeleton arms, while +the breeze died away to a long, weary sigh and was gone.</p> + +<p>"It does not come from the cemetery, Sammie, but from beyond. Perhaps it +will come again. Listen!"</p> + +<p>The breeze was coming to them again, and they drew their horses to a halt.</p> + +<p>"There, Sammie! You did not miss that, did you?"</p> + +<p>They listened a moment longer, but the breeze was dying away and with it +the cry, whatever it was.</p> + +<p>"The Dickens! Allison, let us hurry on. This is too ghostly a night to +tarry. That cry gives me an uneasy feeling to the marrow of my bones."</p> + +<p>They quickened their pace, and rode some distance in silence. The sky +seemed growing darker and the wind was rising. A thick clump of trees +hard by cast a gloomy shadow across the road, and just as they passed +into this the floating clouds covered the face of the moon, and they +were in pitchy darkness.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there burst into the black night from somewhere in front of +them a most unearthly yell.</p> + +<p>Allison's horse quivered and Sammie's gave a violent lurch.</p> + +<p>"Heavens, Sammie! What was that?"</p> + +<p>"Blast the moon!" ejaculated Sammie. "Ride close to the side of the +road. It was near here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>They had passed the clump of trees, but were still in the dark. All was +still save the tiresome moaning of the trees. Then they heard the rapid +approach of some man or beast, and the next instant, directly at their +sides, there went out onto the night air a succession of blood-curdling yells and barks.</p> + +<p>The horses sprang and danced.</p> + +<p>The moon came out, and in its pale yellow light they saw the creature +disappearing down the road. It was the figure of a man, crouching and +springing, rather than walking. As he neared the clump of trees he made +the night shudder with still wilder and fiercer screams. Then he +disappeared down the shadowy road.</p> + +<p>"A madman!" said Allison. "Heavens! What couldn't he do to a fellow if +he had him to himself?"</p> + +<p>Sammie laughed nervously.</p> + +<p>"His boots are full of snakes, if I am not mistaken—but truly a bad +fellow. He must have been what we heard back by the cemetery."</p> + +<p>"No. Not such a noise as that. That was a wailing cry. Perhaps—he +surely cannot have had his hand on any human being. Let us hurry on. The +devil must be hereabouts to-night."</p> + +<p>The suburbs seemed again to be asleep. The wind came and went over the +rickety homes, sparsely scattered, and its moaning was made more dismal +by the long-drawn out howl of some sleepless cur.</p> + +<p>At rare intervals a light gleamed from a window.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>One window from which a light shone Gilbert Allison and his friend +looked into that night, and somehow that window remained always open in +the memory of each, with a bright light burning behind it.</p> + +<p>It was a dreary little structure that stood close to the roadside, quite +alone. The window was only a square hole, and the feeble light inside +flickered as the wind blew through. There had been glass there once, no +doubt, but that glass and many other cheap glass windows had gone into a +better, richer piece of glass, and that hung in a respectable saloon.</p> + +<p>Reflecting the decanters and red noses—and broken hearts? No! Ah, no! +Their reflection would have injured the trade. They remained where the +cheap glass had once been, and it was one of these hearts that Gilbert +Allison, late of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, caught a glimpse of +as he paused at the open window.</p> + +<p>A woman sat on the floor in the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>A woman of petrified misery. She gazed beyond the surrounding walls into +the happy past, the mournful future—into Heaven and Hell, or somewhere.</p> + +<p>Close by her side lay the still warm body of the boy. She placed her +hands over his face, and, feeling the warmth, opened the tattered, +bloody little night-dress and pressed her ear over the heart—pressed it +closer and closer, but the heart was still.</p> + +<p>She did not cry, this woman. Why should she? She knew the child was +better off. She lifted a corner of her garment and wiped the thick blood +from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> the face, then she pressed her lips to the lips, the cheeks, the +forehead, in long, loving, mother kisses. She drooped her head close +over the childish body, and drawing the soft arms around her neck held +them there. She stroked back the hair, and her hands were bloodstained.</p> + +<p>Resting the child's body tenderly on the hard floor, she raised her face +of misery and her bloodstained hands toward Heaven.</p> + +<p>"God!" she cried. "Look at my hands! See God! Here it is—my baby's +blood. Come, God, and see my boy. He's getting stiff—but come, +God—come! See the bruises and the blood! See the face—the little face, +all full of pain and fear—and feel the crushed bones, God! He is +getting cold—cold—cold! The boy's dead!"</p> + +<p>She caught up one of the child's hands and pressed it convulsively. +After a moment's silence she began again, suddenly, fiercely:</p> + +<p>"Is there any God? Where is he? Where does he stay? Not with Christians. +They have the power, if God were with them, to stop the curse. No, not +with them. They do not stop it. No. They license it, they do. 'Woe, woe +to him that puts the bottle to his neighbor's lips.' They do! They do! +But God must be somewhere. God come out of somewhere!"</p> + +<p>The wind blew and the light flickered. Allison and Sammie, looking in, +seemed riveted to the spot. It was not a pleasant picture, yet they gazed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"My husband a murderer!" wailed the woman. "The boy's blood on his +hands? Lord God! I never want to see his face again! Have mercy on his +soul! Perhaps he cannot help it now—he is a madman. Love him if you +can—I loved him once."</p> + +<p>Something like a sob sounded in the woman's voice, but she choked it +back. After a moment of silence she moved a short distance from the +little corpse, and, raising herself upright on her knees, with her hands +clasped at arm's length over her head, she prayed.</p> + +<p>It was not a Christlike prayer—rather the helpless cry of a soul +tortured, in the grasp of a Christianized sin.</p> + +<p>"Lord God! Down deep in Hell—away down—down where the fire is hottest, +and the black blackest, and the smoke thickest, there let the man be +bound forever who covers the business of Hell with a respectable +covering. There forever let him see my boy's piteous, quivering face; +let him hear the dying moan and see the red blood! I know them, God! You +know them, God—you know them! Hear my prayer!"</p> + +<p>Another gust of wind came, nearer and stronger, and the lamp flickered +out. It was quiet. Very quiet. So quiet that Allison and Sammie heard +the sigh that escaped the woman's lips. It was a heavy sigh, filled with +tears and utter despair.</p> + +<p>A sigh that went farther than all the sighing winds had ever gone. A +sigh that was wafted far above to the great God who keeps record of the +sighs that come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> up from the hearts of a million drunkards' wives, and +who writes on the balance-sheet: "Vengeance is mine. I will repay."</p> + +<p>Some people, one of them an officer, entered the house from the opposite +side, and the two travelers, seeing no need for their services, turned +away and mounted their horses.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison was somewhat excited.</p> + +<p>"Hanging is too good for that brute!" he said, loudly. "I believe I +could stand by and see him roast. Heavens, what a devil! Poor woman, I +wish I had not stopped there to-night."</p> + +<p>Sammie grunted. "Thinking of the place she referred to as the +respectable dealer's future headquarters?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, will you! This is no time for joking!"</p> + +<p>The young man complied with the request of his polite friend, and +thought to himself, but Mr. Allison was no better pleased. He knew that +if he had not seen it, it would have been. It really was. He was deeply +stirred. And as he rode on through the night he was thinking new and strange thoughts.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>"THE SIN BURDEN."</h3> + +<p>After Gilbert Allison arrived home from that ride, the ghostly night on +which he saw the fruits of a sinful traffic in all its horror, he +hastily disrobed and turned into bed, hoping to sleep away the +unpleasant thoughts and pictures that had possession of his mind; but no +sooner had sleep overtaken him than a face, framed in a halo of +red-brown hair, looked down upon him from an eminence; a white hand with +a phosphorescent glow pointed at him, while a voice kept repeating, to +the accompaniment of a childish wail, "Man—atom of the great iniquity, +man—atom of the great iniquity."</p> + +<p>In his dream he did not recognize the face nor voice, and yet both +seemed strangely familiar to him.</p> + +<p>When daylight came, the face and the white hand and the moaning child +went away and the face of the woman whose misery he had looked upon +haunted him, and her bitter prayer came to him in snatches.</p> + +<p>The experience was distressing in no small degree to the ease-loving +man. He could not analyze his feelings and was not aware that what one +strange little woman called a "sin burden" had fallen with its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> weight +upon him. He was in the act of rubbing his eyes before his moral resurrection.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>Damon Crowley was behind the bars for the last time. Perhaps he did not +know, at any rate he did not care. He had reached the beginning of the end.</p> + +<p>From the corners of his cell dark faces leered at him; cruel, sharp +claws closed around his limbs and icy fingers grasped his throat—yet he +was not dead. Outlines of things he saw became to him living creatures +of destruction and crouched over him, grinning in his face and tearing +him to bits—yet he was not dead. Snarling beasts sank their fangs into +his flesh, a thousand poison insects rushed and swarmed upon him, and he +felt the virus of their sting bounding through his body—yet he lived.</p> + +<p>Slimy serpents wriggled over him, thrusting their forked tongues into +his nose and ears, and when he grabbed frantically to tear them away they had gone.</p> + +<p>A fire burned within him and he tore his flesh and hair, while death +like a dark shadow hovered nearer and nearer, closing in slowly but +surely. The end of Damon Crowley was not as a child falls to sleep nor +as a Christian steps into the great beyond.</p> + +<p>It was a time of screams and groans; of frantic clutchings and hard +grapplings. Those in neighboring cells were glad for once that the walls +were thick and the bolts secure.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>Gilbert Allison imagined he would feel better when he knew that Damon +Crowley was securely lodged under lock and key; but such was not the +case. The knowledge of this only seemed to press some real or imaginary +burden closer to him. Then he imagined that he would perhaps feel at +peace with the world and himself when white-robed justice had had her +perfect course, and the victim of a nation's sin had been hung by the +neck until dead. But even the news of the tragic death of the murderer +did not prove a cure for his nameless and indefinable ill-feeling.</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to him that perhaps his name had not been taken from +over the doors of the establishment of which he had so long been a part. +Being fully resolved to completely sever his connection with the +business, he looked upon this as a necessary step, and not without some +small hope that it might help a little toward restoring his upset conscience.</p> + +<p>Turning a corner, he raised his eyes. There, in the glow of the full +sunlight, blazed the richly-wrought words, "Allison, Russell & Joy." +They looked positively ugly to him and he felt that he had been injured +by the other members of the firm. Entering the establishment to request +that the sign be altered he came upon a trio discussing trade items, and +the old familiar phraseology fell upon his ears like jangling voices.</p> + +<p>As he passed out an old customer slapped him familiarly on the back and +asked after business. Hardly had he escaped this one before another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +grasped his hand and inquired in jovial manner how times were. Then a +drummer approached him, and, on being informed that he was no longer +connected with the trade interests, assured him that the trade had +suffered a loss. As he halted a moment in front of a hotel, a +half-intoxicated man with a tale of woe, because of having been ordered +out of the palatial sample room of the late liquor dealer, drew some +attention to him and increased his feeling of disquiet and irritability.</p> + +<p>Each time he informed his assailant that he had severed his connection +with the business, but it was not until the red-headed proprietor of a +groggery drew nigh with a grievance, that the last straw had been put +upon his already overtaxed nerves and conscience.</p> + +<p>With more than the necessary amount of vigor he declared himself +innocent of the business and dropped remarks relative to groggeries that +would have delighted the ear of a temperance lecturer.</p> + +<p>After this series of unpleasant encounters Gilbert Allison betook +himself to the office of his friend, Dr. Samuel Thomas, the companion of +his memorable ride, for advisement.</p> + +<p>Entering the room without previous announcement, he dropped his hat onto +a promiscuous pile of books and papers and spread himself on the couch. +Here, with his hands clasped under his head, he studied the pattern of +the ceiling paper a few seconds before venturing a remark.</p> + +<p>Dr. Sammie, used to moods and fancies, waited.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>"Would you do anything for a friend in need, Sammie?" asked the visitor +at length, with a strong emphasis upon the "anything."</p> + +<p>"To be sure. Speak out."</p> + +<p>"Then laugh."</p> + +<p>"Laugh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, laugh."</p> + +<p>"Laugh? What about?"</p> + +<p>"Anything or nothing—but laugh. I have not heard a suspicion of a laugh +in weeks. I have been prowling around in a valley of dry bones, and to +save my soul I cannot find my way out. I thought I had just begun the +ascent of a slope where smiles are occasionally seen, when the hope was +shattered by the vulgar familiarity of a mob belonging to the trade."</p> + +<p>Dr. Sammie listened to the rather unusual remarks of his friend, and as +he recounted the day's experiences in his own original way the amused +look on his face drew itself into definite shape around his mouth, and, +when Allison had delivered himself of something unusual in the way of a +tirade on dive-keepers, the climax had been reached, and the listener +rested his head against the back of his chair and laughed in a manner +sufficiently hearty to have satisfied the request of his friend.</p> + +<p>"Soured on the fraternity, have you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison slowly raised himself to a sitting posture and, with an +elbow resting on either knee, transferred his study from the ceiling +pattern to that of the carpet. He did not answer the question.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>"Crowley died," he at length observed.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and I should think you would be the man to be glad. I imagine the +after feeling must be anything but pleasant when one has for years +helped fit a fellow creature for the gallows."</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison frowned between his hands and spoke sharply.</p> + +<p>"It is a legal business," he said.</p> + +<p>"Legal? Yes, legal—but you have sense enough to know that if it is +legal for you to sell, it must be legal for some other fellow to buy; +and if some other fellow spends his money for liquor he had the right to +drink it, and you can hardly be unreasonable enough to hold a man +responsible for what he does when the lining has been eaten out of his +stomach and his brain soaked with alcohol. Such a man is a legal +murderer, and the custom that breeds him should take care of the finished production.</p> + +<p>"Mind you, I am not giving a temperance lecture; that is out of my line. +But it has always seemed to me to be a rotten sort of justice that hangs +a man for doing what the government gives him a license to do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allison looked up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, Sammie, that Deacon Brown knows the Traffic as it +is—as we have seen it?"</p> + +<p>"His church machinery grinds out resolutions annually of such a warlike +nature that I am inclined to believe he does," said the doctor grimly.</p> + +<p>"He has been in every political caucus that I have, for the last five +years and has voted as I have from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> constable to President. I have voted +for the interests of the Trade. What has he been voting for?" demanded Allison.</p> + +<p>"I'll give it up," said Sammie, dusting the ashes from the end of his +cigar; "but the Lord have mercy on his brains if he thinks it has been +for 'temperance and morality.'"</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison arose and began a measured tread up and down the room.</p> + +<p>"Laugh some more, Sammie! I have not yet recovered my normal condition. +I had as soon be dead as morbid. Laugh. Perhaps it will prove infectious."</p> + +<p>"I prefer to diagnose my case before applying a remedy," said the +doctor. "Tell me your symptoms. What ails you?"</p> + +<p>"I am in a dilemma, Sammie—a dilemma. Tell me—will it be necessary for +me to wear a staring placard on my back the rest of my mortal days in +order that people may know I have everlastingly severed my connection +with the liquor business?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Sammie was obliging enough to favor his guest with another hearty +laugh. Then he blew two clouds of smoke over his head and watched it +curl itself away around the chandelier, for notwithstanding the fact +that he knew, or should have known, the effects of nicotine on the human +system, this aspiring young member of the medical profession wasted +money and nerve force in his slavery to a habit.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>"I tell you, my friend," he said, with an air of confidence, "there are +a set of people in the world—mind you, I do not say that they are +wise—who would tell you that by casting a single vote in a certain way +you would stamp yourself as the vile opponent of the Trade's interests 'forevermore, amen!'"</p> + +<p>Gilbert Allison paused in his walk and looked into his friend's face a +second. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and immediately he found +himself in the midst of a ringing laugh peculiar to one who has broken +through the meshes of a dilemma and finds himself free.</p> + +<p>"The best speech of your life, Sammie! Thank you!" and hastily donning +his hat he left the room without further comment.</p> + +<p>Dr. Sammie smiled when the door closed behind his friend. He had an idea +whither his way tended.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>AN AWAKENING.</h3> + +<p>Judge Thorn sat looking over the evening paper.</p> + +<p>Lost in her own thoughts, Jean sat in the shadow of a palm idly +thrumming a guitar, the soft pliant strains corresponding well with the +expression of her face.</p> + +<p>A sudden exclamation from her father caused her to look up.</p> + +<p>His profile alone was visible to her, but there is an expression in +outlines when one understands the subject, and she knew that something +of an unusually puzzling or distressing nature engaged him.</p> + +<p>Eagerly watching, she played on softly.</p> + +<p>Presently the judge crushed the paper into a ball and with another +exclamation of disgust threw it across the room where it rolled behind a +scrap basket under a desk. At sight of so uncommon a procedure Jean went +to her father's side.</p> + +<p>"What news, father mine? What news?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn pointed in the direction of the wadded paper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>"Jean," said he, solemnly, "you remember how proudly I boasted to you +when Congress prohibited that blackest disgrace of our army, the +liquor-selling canteen. You know how deeply I felt the shame and +disgrace upon the whole legal profession when an officer of the cabinet +perpetrated the outrage that thwarted the will of the sovereign people. +Jean, girl, in a long life of close contact with the nation's politics I +have never met anything that has so deeply tried my loyalty to the party +in which I have helped to work out the political problems of almost half +a century as did that act that, as a life-long student of law, I +recognized as a fraud.</p> + +<p>"But I have bolstered my shattered faith in the party with my absolute +confidence in the President. I have refused to believe—to this very +hour I have refused to believe that the man whose magnificent career I +have watched with such interest and of whose stainless honor I have been +so proud, would consent to be a party to such an act of anarchy. I have +insisted, as you well know, stoutly holding my position though the long +delay has made me sick at heart, that when the long routine of official +red tape had at length unrolled itself and the case should finally come +to the President, justice would be done and the nation's honor vindicated.</p> + +<p>"Now, look there!"</p> + +<p>And with hands that trembled with suppressed anger the old jurist +unfolded the crumpled paper, which Jean had recovered, and pointed out +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>telegraphic report that told how another high official of the +President's official family had disgraced himself, his profession and +the administration by the formal declaration that he accepted the +historic Griggs infamy as a correct interpretation of law.</p> + +<p>"Jean, my child, spare me. Say nothing now, child. I can not bear it. +The faith of a lifetime is shattered. On that page I read, plainly as if +it were printed there, that the President is a party to the infamy. The +party of my lifelong loyalty stands committed by the act of its chosen +leaders to the foulest anarchy that ever disgraced a civilized people. +Had I no thought for temperance, as a citizen and as a lawyer, I could +not otherwise than see in this the forerunner of the gravest national disaster."</p> + +<p>The young woman listened with an expression in which deepest scorn for +the treason done was mingled with tender pity for the stricken man at +her side. Sharp, cutting words crowded to her lips for a final argument, +but her love for her father checked them.</p> + +<p>Just then, in the silence, a step was heard approaching the house. In a +twinkling the canteen outrage slipped from the mind of the girl, for the +step was one whose echo had made indelible prints on her heart and whose +owner she had been many times heartsick to see.</p> + +<p>She had hardly time to wonder what brought him at an hour long past the +usual time for making calls before he was with them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>When he had been informed by the judge of the latest chapter in the +history of the canteen outrage, Mr. Allison laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"What have you been voting for the last ten years, Judge," he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not for the canteen," the older man answered warmly.</p> + +<p>"I have, and for every other measure conducive to the best interests of +the trade—and we have voted the same ticket to a dot."</p> + +<p>Finding the judge rather indisposed to talk just then the young man +turned to his hostess.</p> + +<p>"I am on a quest," he said. "Tell me of some one possessed of enough +knowledge of human nature to recommend a course that will square me with +an unruly conscience and—a woman."</p> + +<p>"My father is a legal light, ask him. He needs diversion now, I think," +and Jean smiled at sight of his perplexed face.</p> + +<p>"His specialty has not been 'man atoms of a great iniquity,'" said +Allison with a smile that hardly concealed his anxiety. "Tell me, what +would you do if you had been a 'man-atom,' had grown disgusted with the +mother mass and wished to completely sever your connection with it +before God and man?"</p> + +<p>"You mean if I were a man? Well, first I would ask the Lord to forgive +me for ever having been a 'man-atom.'"</p> + +<p>"I have been duly penitent," assented the questioner.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>"Then I would buy some paper—a quantity of it—and I would write yards +and yards of resolutions stating that 'it can never be legalized without sin.'"</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I should pray a whole lot—and pursue the even tenor of my way; +and if my conscience should assert itself in the face of all this, I +should think it too cranky a conscience to be humored."</p> + +<p>"What about the woman?"</p> + +<p>Jean smiled.</p> + +<p>"Woman? Women," she said, "have notions. To save their lives they cannot +see the use in wasting paper and prayers. They would DO something. +Women—some women—believe in standing right with God and conscience +though the heavens fall."</p> + +<p>"So do some men," said Allison, gravely.</p> + +<p>Jean started slightly. The tone of his voice, the look of his eye, +conveyed to her the knowledge that somewhere, somehow, since she had +seen him last he had been awakened.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily she clasped her hands and in the passing glance she gave +him Gilbert Allison caught a glimpse of the heaven that orthodox people +say follows the resurrection of the just.</p> + +<p>Judge Thorn roused himself from the spell that had been cast over him by +the news in the crumpled paper.</p> + +<p>A second time he took it in his hands and slowly, solemnly crushed it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>"The rank and file, the men whose honesty and virtue have made the +party great," he said, "have been defrauded, outraged. My support of the +administration and of the party of my political life is forever ended +unless it reclaim the right to a decent man's support."</p> + +<p>While her father talked, Jean, lest in the first moments of her +delightful discovery she should clap her hands or cry or dance or in +some other unconventional way outrage grave decorum, returned to her +seat and her guitar.</p> + +<p>The fringed palm threw long jagged shadows over her dress and stretched +away to meet the firelight dancing on the hearth-rug.</p> + +<p>The mingled tones of the two voices reached her ear, but she heard them +indistinctly. To the soft strains that answered the strokes of her +fingers, she kept repeating over and over to herself, "He is awake, he is awake."</p> + +<p>Presently she heard her father leave the room.</p> + +<p>Then her heart began to whirl and beat in a way unknown to her before. +She caught the faint chime of a distant steeple bell and the notes of +the low music died away to a plaintive breathing as she counted the +strokes, for she knew the fateful hour of her life was at hand.</p> + +<p>Just as the last stroke quivered out onto the new hour, he came. He sat +down beside her and putting aside the guitar, drew her close to him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>"You are awake," she said softly, as if half afraid of breaking some +magic spell. "Tell me about it."</p> + +<p>He dropped his hand over one of hers and described the tragedy of the +victims of the "great iniquity" that he had seen on that eventful night.</p> + +<p>When he spoke of the murdered child he felt her hand clinch in his and +when he told of the prayer consigning the "respectable" dealer to the +place prepared for Satan and his earthly henchmen, involuntarily she +would have drawn away from him, but his arm bound her like a band of steel.</p> + +<p>"A tortured face—a bitter prayer—a bloody tragedy—ugly instruments; +but in the hands of the Divinity that smooths out man's rough hewing +they have cut away the last outline of a 'man-atom.' Are you glad? Has +fate fashioned me to the satisfaction of one peerless, priceless woman?"</p> + +<p>For one moment Jean hesitated. Then——</p> + +<p>But what business is that of ours? Our story has been of the daughter of +a Republican, and the young woman whose face is hidden upon the shoulder +of Gilbert Allison, once rum-seller, now by God's grace Prohibitionist, +is no longer the daughter of a Republican; for Judge Thorn's resolution, +slow formed, is as unbreakable as nature's laws.</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<h3>Section 17 of the Army Act, passed by Congress March 2, 1899, reads:</h3> + +<p>"That no officer or private soldier shall be detailed to sell +intoxicating drinks as a bartender or otherwise, in any post exchange or +canteen, nor shall any other person be required or allowed to sell such +liquor in any encampment or fort, or on any premises used for military +purposes by the United States; and the Secretary of War is hereby +directed to issue such general order as may be necessary to carry the +provisions of this section into full force and effect."</p> + +<p>After vainly trying to find some other method of evading the law, +Secretary Alger, then the head of the War Department, obtained from +Attorney-General Griggs the opinion that the army saloon, known as the +canteen, could run as usual if only the bartenders were not soldiers. +Griggs said:</p> + +<p>"The designation of one class of individuals as forbidden to do a +certain thing raises a just inference that all other classes not +mentioned are not forbidden. A declaration that soldiers shall not be +detailed to sell intoxicating drinks in post exchanges necessarily +implies that such sale is not unlawful when conducted by others than +soldiers.... The act having forbidden the employment of soldiers as +bartenders or salesmen of intoxicating drinks, it would be lawful and +appropriate for the managers of the post exchanges to employ civilians +for that purpose. Of course, employment is a matter of contract, and not +of requirement or permission."</p> + +<p>This opinion, pronounced anarchy by every judge and every lawyer, +outside of the President's Cabinet, that has spoken upon it, is upheld +by Secretary Root, the new head of the War Department; and by President +McKinley.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Daughter of a Republican, by Bernie Babcock + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAUGHTER OF A REPUBLICAN *** + +***** This file should be named 31493-h.htm or 31493-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/9/31493/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Daughter of a Republican + +Author: Bernie Babcock + +Release Date: March 3, 2010 [EBook #31493] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAUGHTER OF A REPUBLICAN *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE DAUGHTER OF A REPUBLICAN + +BY + +BERNIE BABCOCK + +CHICAGO: + +THE NEW VOICE PRESS + +1900 + + +_Copyright by Dickie and Woolley 1899_ + + + + +The world at large gives small attention to human effort until it has +reached the full stature of a robust maturity. + +By way of encouragement, it is well for many obscure toilers that there +are those who think they see a bud of promise in the yet undeveloped +effort. + +Because of the loving interest she has always taken in my every "first +attempt," I dedicate this little volume to + +MY MOTHER. + + +[Illustration: "'I'm cold,' whined the boy."] + + + + +The Daughter of a Republican. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE CROWLEY FAMILY. + + +Let me introduce the reader to the Crowley family, and when you have +become acquainted with them bear well in mind that in this broad land of +ours there are thousands upon thousands of families in a condition as +deplorable, and some whose mercury line of debauchery has dropped to a +point of miserable existence as yet unsounded by this family. + +The Crowleys are all in tonight, except the father, and he is +momentarily expected. + +It is a bitter night in February. The ground is covered with ice and +sleet causing many a fall to the unwary pedestrian. + +The wind comes in cutting blasts directly from the north, rattling and +twisting everything in its way not securely fastened, then dying away in +a long weary moan, abandoning its effort only to seize upon the elements +with a firmer grasp and come battling back with fresh vindictiveness and +force. + +There were those who did not mind this storm, people around whose homes +all was secure and whom no rattling annoyed, people who enjoyed bright +lights and warm fires, but these were not the Crowleys. The Crowley's +home consisted of two rooms in a rickety old tenement house around which +everything rattled and flapped as the wind raged. Their light came from +a dingy little lamp on a goods box. Every now and then a more violent +gust of wind struck the house with such force that the structure +trembled and the feeble light flickered dangerously. + +Here and there broken windows were stopped up with rags and papers and +through the insecure crevices the wind found its way with a rasping, +tiresome groan. + +What little fire there was, burned in a small rusty stove. Its door +stood open, perhaps to keep the low fire burning longer, perhaps to let +the warmth out sooner, and against the pale red glow four small hands +were visible, spread to catch the feeble heat. + +On a bed in one corner, gaunt, and with wasted form, a woman lay. + +This was the mother. + +A girl of perhaps fifteen sat close to the stove and held a tiny baby +wrapped in a gingham apron. + +A spell seemed to have fallen on the usually noisy group. Even Cora, the +family merrymaker, was quiet, until aroused from her reverie by an act +of her brother who replenished the fire. + +She spoke rather severely. + +"Johnnie, how many pieces of coal are there left in the box?" + +"Five--and little ones." + +"Then get to work quick! Take out one of the pieces that you have just +put in. We are not rich enough to burn three pieces at once." + +"I'm cold," whined the boy. + +"So am I, awful cold, but you know that coal must do till pa comes." + +"I'd like to know when that will be. Any other pa would be home such a +freezing night as this. I hate my pa." + +"Johnnie, Johnnie, you must not talk that way. He is your father, +child." + +The voice came from the bed and was marked by that peculiar tone +noticeable when persons extremely cold try to speak without chattering. + +"I can't help it, mother. I'm cold, so cold, and I'm hungry, too. I only +had half a potato, and Maggie says they're all gone." + +"Poor child!" said the mother with a sigh. "Here, Maggie, give him +this," and she drew from under the pillow a small potato which she held +toward the girl. + +But the girl did not stir until the hungry boy made a move in the +direction of the bed. This movement aroused her as his overdose of coal +had roused his other watchful sister a moment previous. + +"No! No! Johnnie. Do not take it. Our mother will starve. She has not +eaten anything for two days." + +"Let him have it, Maggie. I cannot eat it. Perhaps your father will +come soon and bring some tea. I think a good cup of tea would make me +better." + +"And, mother," said Cora, "we will take the money we were going to spend +for shoes and get a bit of flannel for you and the baby. You must have +it or you will freeze. Surely father will come soon. He said he would." + +"Nearly everyone has gone home now. Hardly a person passes," Cora +observed, with her nose pressed against the frosty pane. + +"That is because it is so cold. It is not late yet. We will wait a +little longer, and then Maggie----" + +"O, mother! Do not ask me to go. It is so cold, and suppose--suppose I +had to go into a saloon again. It nearly kills me to go about such +places." + +"You might meet him, Maggie, and keep him from going in." + +"If my pa don't come tonight, he's a big liar, that's all!" broke in +Johnnie, hotly. + +His mother did not answer him. She was watching the face bent low over +the tiny baby. She noted the careworn look and the nervous pressure of +the hand held over the tiny one to keep it warm. + +Presently the girl lifted her eyes to her mother. Those tender pleading +eyes of the mother would have melted a harder heart than hers. She went +to the bed and put the baby in, close to its mother's side. Then she +threw her arms around the haggard woman's neck and kissed her +passionately. + +"Dear mother," she said, "I would do anything for you. I will go for +father, and before it gets any later." + +"Pray, child! Pray every breath you draw! Pray every step you take that +you may find him before it is too late. If you do not--I cannot imagine +what is to become of us. Pray! God is not cruel. Surely he will hear us +in our misery." + +Would you see the drunkard's daughter dressed for a walk this bitter +night? A frail, slender girl, who should have been warmly clad, she is +dressed in thinnest, shabby cotton, through which the elements will play +as through rags of gauze, while the flesh of her feet, unprotected by +her almost soleless shoes, will press against the sleet. The two faded +pink roses that flap forlornly on the side of her coarse straw hat bear +a silent suggestion of pathos--a faint remembrance, perhaps, of the days +of departed happiness. + +While she is adjusting the remnant of a shawl so as to cover as much of +her shoulders as possible, the children are giving her numerous messages +to be given their father when she finds him. At last she is ready. After +hesitating a moment she kisses them all and with a shudder steps out +into the howling, swirling blast. + +She walked briskly, halting a second every time she met a man to see if +he were the object of her search and passing each time with a growing +fear, as each time she was disappointed. + +At last she came to the door of the saloon where her father had so +often worse than wasted the money his family were perishing for at home. + +She stopped. + +She knew it was warm and light inside. Perhaps her father had just +stepped inside to get warm. Should she look? + +While she stood shivering in the wind, getting her courage up to the +point of entering, a man passed her and went in. As he went through the +door a familiar voice greeted her ear, a voice she well knew and had +learned to fear. + +She did not hesitate longer. Opening the door she walked swiftly and +noiselessly in. For a moment the air seemed to stagger her, so laden was +it with the fumes of liquor and tobacco. There was a crowd around the +bar and the bartender was busy mixing drinks and jingling glasses. + +She saw her father. He was about two-thirds drunk and she knew, poor +child, that she had found him at his worst. Her courage almost failed +her, and she took an involuntary step toward the door. Her father's +voice arrested her. + +"Here it goes, and it's my last. Now, who can say Dam Crow has not done +the square thing?" And with the words he flung a silver dollar on the +bar. His last had joined his first. All had gone into the same coffer +while an innocent wife and helpless children were starving and freezing +at home. + +A pair of hungry, pleading blue eyes came like a vision to Maggie. +Before the ring of the silver had died away, she sprang forward like a +tiger and seized the dollar. + +"Thief! thief!" cried a chorus of voices and two or three seized her. + +"By the Lord, it's Mag! my Mag! Give that money where it belongs, and +tell what brings you here, you huzzy," and Damon Crowley seized his +daughter by the shoulder and shook her savagely. + +"I will give it where it belongs, and that will be to mother. I came +here for you, father. Mother is sick and cold and nearly starved. The +children are all crying for something to eat and the coal is gone; and +this is the last?" + +She opened her hand and looked at the dollar. Damon Crowley reached for +it, but quick as a flash she closed her fingers over it and thrust her +hand behind her. + +"Never," she said firmly. "This is the last. It shall be ours to buy +mother some tea and the children some bread." + +"Give me that money, you devilish brat!" and stepping forward he struck +her a blow in the face. + +She staggered. + +Some of the bystanders laughed. Some called her a plucky girl, and one, +more nearly drunk than the rest, thinking that he was in a dog pit no +doubt, called lustily, "Sic 'em! Sic 'em!" + +Maggie cast an appealing glance around the room. All of the men had +been drinking. Some were nearly intoxicated. The bartender was sober, +but it was his dollar that was involved; he could not interfere. + +Poor Maggie! She stood her ground bravely. It was the last; she could +not let it go. The enraged man gave vent to his passion in a volley of +oaths. "Give me that dollar, or ---- I'll bust your head. I won't stand +such treatment, you ---- fool!" and suiting the action to the words, he +drew from under the stove a heavy poker and started toward her. + +Someone caught his upraised arm. + +"Let her go, Dam Crow. Let her have her dollar. You've done the square +thing. Not a stingy bone in your body." + +A laugh followed this speech, in which Damon Crowley joined, and which +seemed to put him in better humor. He threw the poker down heavily and +taking the frightened girl rudely by the arm pushed her toward the door. + +"Tell the sick lady her husband wants her to have tea, nice warm tea, +plenty of tea, and this is your share," and opening the door he pushed +her into the passageway and gave her a violent kick. + +The crowd inside laughed loudly and then went on with their drinking and +swearing as if nothing had happened. Such visits as the visit of Maggie +were of too frequent occurrence to cause any prolonged ripple of +excitement. + +Poor Maggie! She lay groaning on the cold, slippery ground, just +outside this licensed, money-making pet of Uncle Sam's. + +She was half crazed with pain and growing numb when two young gentlemen +came along. One stooped and picked up something lying in the street. + +"Gad! I've good luck," and he held up the dollar. + +"Please, mister! it's mine. Give it to me quick. It's all that's left." + +"And what did you do with the others? Come now, you've had a little too +much of the stuff inside, but you'd better move on or you'll freeze." + +"Let's call a policeman." + +"Too cold to stop. They'll find her; and if she freezes, well enough. +Her kind are of no use to the world." + +Then the speaker dropped the dollar in his pocket, and taking his +companion's arm hastened away. + +"O God! O God!" groaned Maggie. But her cry was lost on the moaning +wind. + +Presently a man wrapped in a fur-trimmed coat turned the corner and +almost ran over the prostrate form. He halted suddenly and spoke to her. +No answer. + +He shook her. Only a faint groan. + +Then he stepped to the saloon, and after a sharp, decided knock by way +of announcement, entered. + +"Does the girl lying outside belong to anyone here? She is nearly +frozen." + +A couple of men stepped to the door and peered out. + +"It's Dam Crow's girl. She was in here a huntin' him." + +"Where is her father?" + +"That's him," pointing to a man lying on a bench behind the stove. + +"Guess he's asleep," said the man, smiling broadly. + +"Wake him, and hurry about it," said the gentleman. + +But Damon Crowley was not in a sleep that could be easily broken. Like a +beast he lay. The spittle oozed from his mouth and spread over his dirty +beard in true drunkard fashion. When told that his daughter was just +outside freezing, he could only grunt. + +"Where is his home?" + +"Small use to take her there," one man observed, recounting part of the +interview that had taken place a short time before. But no one knew +where he lived. The muffled man left the saloon abruptly, evidently much +disgusted. + +Stepping into the street he called a cab just passing. After having had +the half-dead girl placed in the vehicle, the gentleman followed, +slamming the door. + +Then he took off his great coat and threw it over her tattered garments. + +Judge Thorn was a tender-hearted man. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE THORNS AT HOME. + + +The Thorn homestead, like the family whose name it bore, was magnificent +and substantial in an unassuming way. Its gray gables seemed to look +with a frown on the gingerbread style of architecture that had grown up +around it. Under the trees on its lawn, three generations of Thorns had +grown to man's estate, and every one of them had become a lawyer. + +It had been the hope of the present occupant that when he left the +estate he might leave it in the hands of a son, but this was not to be. + +After a short married life his wife died, leaving him childless. + +Some years later he married a second time. When his first child was born +and he was told it was a daughter, he was disappointed. When the second +child came and was also a girl, his disappointment verged on resentment. +Through the hours of anxious waiting that preceded the arrival of the +third child, he walked the floor in a state of mind alternating between +hope and fear, and when at last the suspense was over and he looked upon +the tiny features of a son, his joy knew no bounds. + +He hurried out to break the news to the two little sisters whom he +imagined would be as pleased as he was. He found them in the yard, +Vivian swinging with her doll and Jean digging a hole in a pile of sand. +When the important announcement was made, the black-haired Vivian +clapped her hands for joy, but the other little girl kept right on +digging, just as if she had not heard. When she had passed the critical +point in the process of excavating she paused and looked up. + +The expression in her father's face was something new to her, and she +studied him in silence a moment, then said, solemnly: + +"Are boys any better than girls, father?" + +"Better? Why no, they are no better. They are boys, that is all." + +"Well, then!" and the tone of her voice, no less than the words, +conveyed the meaning that the matter was settled, and she returned to +her digging as if nothing had happened. But she did not forget the +incident, and when, shortly after, the tiny baby boy in the cold arms of +his mother had been put to rest beneath a mound, and the light had gone +out of the father's face and the elasticity out of his step, little Jean +pondered and her heart went out strangely to her father in his bitter +trouble. She followed him softly about and studied him. + +One evening, some time after the little son had come and gone, Jean +appeared before her father in the library to make an important +announcement. "I've been thinking the matter over, father," she said, +"and I've made up my mind I will be your boy. You want a boy, and you +know yourself you'll never be able to make one of Vivian, with her wee +little mouth and her long braids. Now my hair is just right and I can +throw a stone exactly over the middle of the barn and kick a ball +farther than any boy on the block. I shall kick more hereafter, for +don't you think a boy's legs ought to be cultivated?" + +Judge Thorn smiled and assured her that she was correct in her idea of +muscular development. + +"Are boys as good as girls, father?" + +"Boys as good as girls? Why, certainly." + +"Well, you said once that girls were as good as boys, and if boys are as +good as girls they're as good as each other, aren't they?" + +Judge Thorn could not keep back the laugh this time. + +"I believe that is the logical conclusion," he said. + +"Then tell me truly, father, if I'm going to be your boy, are you going +to be as glad as you were that morning you bothered me when I was +digging my well?" + +Judge Thorn hesitated a moment, but the clear gray eyes were upon him, +and he felt the justice of their plea. + +"Yes, dear, I think so." + +"And may I do just as you do when I get big--read books and make +speeches?" + +Now Judge Thorn was not an advocate of the advanced sphere of women and +was not sure he wanted his daughter to be a lawyer, but after a short +reflection, perhaps thinking the request but the passing fancy of a +child, he gave his assent. + +"Thank you, father," she responded gravely. "I think you are a very good +man." Then she kissed him and left the room. + +He sat, still smiling, when her voice close to his side startled him +with the announcement: + +"I think, father, if you do not care, I will not go into pants. I might +not feel at home, you know." + +From the time that the little Jean had announced herself as her father's +boy, he took more interest in her; and as the child developed, he saw +unfolding the traits and abilities he had hoped to nurture in a son. +Intuitively she seemed to understand his moods and fancies, and as her +understanding developed, the books were a source of delight to her, and +many times she discussed knotty problems with her father in a way that +pleased him mightily. + +So, as the years went by, she slipped into the place the father had +reserved for the son, and he loved her with a peculiarly tender love and +was never prouder of her than when he heard her say, in explanation of +her notions and her plans, "I am my father's boy." + +On the particular night when Maggie Crowley was wandering about in the +storm, two young women occupied a handsome room in the Thorn home. A +cheerful wood fire burned on the hearth and the clear rays from an +overhanging light cast brightness over the rows of books that lined the +walls. + +These were two people who minded not the winter weather. The cold wind +blowing through the gables and leafless trees held no terror for them. +Perhaps they rather liked to hear it as by way of comparison it made +their lot seem more comfortable. + +The tall slender woman with black hair was examining alternately a +fashion book and a bunch of samples. She was Vivian, a pronounced +society lady. + +The other sat in a low chair, by a small study table, reading, only +looking up now and then to answer some question put to her by her +sister. This was "my father's boy." + +The solemn little Jean was gone, in her place was this altogether +charming young person, whose shapely head was crowned with coils and +coils of red brown hair held in place by numerous quaintly carved silver +hairpins. If it had not been for the clear gray eyes and the quaint +fashion she still had of dropping her head on one side when solving some +momentous problem, the little Jean might have been a dream. + +Presently the door opened and Judge Thorn entered. + +"Nice evening, girls!" + +"Delightful!" + +"Blackstone, Jean?" + +The young lady looked at the book quizzically a moment and then laughed. + +"United States history, father. Last week I reviewed Caesar. Now I am +on this, and if I do my best I think I may reasonably hope to be in the +Third Reader by next week." + +The judge laughed. + +"I have been reading our constitution and looking over the record of +'the late unpleasantness,'" said Jean. "It is very interesting to me. Do +you know, father, I love every woman who gave a husband or a son to her +country, and I almost hold in reverence the memory of the men who shed +their blood to effect the abolition of human slavery in America." + +The tall form of the Judge straightened and his eye brightened, like a +soldier's when he hears the names of his old battle-fields. + +"Do not forget," he said, "that there were those who acted as brave a +part who never faced a cannon. It is easy to be borne by the force of a +great wave; but those who by their time and talents put the wave of +public opinion in motion are the real heroes. + +"I can remember the time when a man who preached or taught Abolition was +looked upon as narrow-minded, fanatical, bigoted and even criminal. When +the name was a stench in the nostrils of the people even in +liberty-loving Boston. When men were rotten-egged, beaten, and in some +instances killed because they dared to follow the dictates of their own +consciences and make sentiment for the overthrow of the traffic in +humanity. It took all this to bring it about. No great moral reform +takes place without agitation, or without martyrs. Those men bore the +brunt of battle before the battle was. They were most surely heroes. +They made the tidal wave of opinion that swept the country with +insistent force and struck the shackles from 3,000,000 slaves." + +"And you, father, were one of them," cried the enthusiastic girl. "What +perils you must have braved!" + +"I did all I could, you may be sure," answered the judge, modestly, "and +I imagine it would be more agreeable to be whipped in a hand-to-hand +encounter than to be caricatured, misrepresented and lied about, and by +those, too, who claimed to have the abolition of slavery near their +hearts, who prayed unceasingly for its utter destruction, and then split +hairs as to the way in which it was to be accomplished, and who fondly +hoped to exterminate it by marking boundary lines." + +"But then," asked Jean, "was there no way by which this terrible war +could have been averted? No way by which the government could have +regulated and gradually suppressed slavery?" + +"Regulations and restrictions," replied the Judge, waxing eloquent, "put +upon such a vice by a government are but its terms of partnership. +Gradual suppression of a mighty evil is always a signal failure, and +while we wait to prove these failures the enemy gains foothold." + +"I am proud of you, father--proud to be my father's boy--proud to be +the daughter of a patriot," said Jean, with tears in her clear eyes. "I +am a patriot, too, and if ever such an issue comes to the front in my +day, I intend to do a patriot's part, if I am a woman." + +"I do not think such an issue will ever be forced to the front again. +That was a moral question as well as political. Other matters vex the +people of today--money matters mostly--in which more diplomacy is +required than bravery." + +"I must hurry now. I have but fifteen minutes in which to get down +town." + +"You surely are not going out tonight?" + +"Business appointments must be kept. The storm was not considerate +enough to leave town before 'the man' came, and 'the man' cannot wait +for the storm to take its departure, so what is to be done?" + +"Does James know?" + +"I do not want the horses tonight." + +Jean stepped out and returned with his wraps. She held the great coat +while he thrust his long arms into it. Then she tied his muffler around +his neck. + +"Father, while you are out, if you run across any lonely reformer, put +in for Jean an application for the position of first assistant," laughed +Vivian. + +Judge Thorn left the room, and these two daughters of fortune settled +themselves for a comfortable evening. + +Before it seemed possible that an hour had gone they heard a vehicle +drive up to the side gate. + +The carriage stopped for several minutes, then rattled away over the +hard ground, and presently the judge re-entered the room. + +"Ugh! This is a tough night. Fire feels good," and he rubbed his hands +briskly. + +"I brought home company, girls. Not exactly the reformer Vivian was +speaking of; perhaps someone to reform." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Whom have you found?" + +"I think I may be able to explain what I mean, but until the girl thaws +out a little we will not know who she is," said the judge mysteriously. + +"What in the world do you mean, father? But tell us about it." + +"Well, as usual on a night of this sort, there was a missing man. The +search for him took me a couple of blocks out of my way and in coming +back I passed a saloon of a low order and found the girl lying in the +sleet. I thought more than likely she was drunk, and stepped into the +saloon to advise them to look after their productions. Here I found her +father in a state of beastly intoxication and learned that she had been +there, a short time before, begging him to go home with her to a sick +wife and some hungry children, but I could not find out where this home +was. Just as I left the saloon a cab came along, and I had the driver +put the girl in it. This is all. Where are you going, Jean?" + +"Going to see the object of your charity." + +Judge Thorn placed his hand on Jean's shoulder and pushed her gently +back into her chair. + +"Possess your soul in patience. You could be of no possible service if +you were to go. Mrs. Floyd has her in charge and will do all that is +necessary. I am not sure that it was wise to bring her here. I am almost +sorry that I did so, but I hated to leave her and there was not a +policeman in sight; there never is. + +"It is a shame such places as the place at which I stopped tonight are +allowed to exist. Two-thirds of the crime and misery of our entire +nation can be traced directly to their doors. They are a public +nuisance, an outrage to civilization. Temperance people must see to it +that license is raised so high that this sort cannot obtain it." + +"Would that shut them up?" said Jean. + +"Certainly it would." + +"Not all the saloons?" + +"All the poor, low ones." + +"What about the rich ones?" + +"It would make no difference with them, but they have not the bad effect +on the morals of a community that the low ones have. They are patronized +by a set of people who do not pour their last cent down their throats +and employ their time beating their families." + +Jean crossed one foot over the other, leaned slightly forward and with +her head dropped a little to one side in the old-time way, sat studying +the fire. She was trying to solve some knotty problem. + +Her father smiled. It seemed she was the little Jean come back. + +[Illustration: _Give me some, quick!_] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +JEAN THE ABOLITIONIST. + + +"Come in, father, and make yourself comfortable." It was Jean speaking, +as she stood in the glow of the library lamp. "I have been waiting for +you. You need not cast your eye around for the paper; you will not find +it until my case has had a hearing." + +Judge Thorn sank into the great easy chair before the fire with an air +of forced resignation, and the young woman continued: + +"It is quite necessary nowadays, you know, for women to have 'ideas.' I +have ideas on social and moral questions, but I do not know just where I +belong when it comes to politics." + +The judge lifted his hands with a show of expostulation. + +"So our Jean would be a politician," he cried. "Oh, the times! Oh, the +customs!" + +"Not quite so bad as that, father," replied the young woman, smiling but +serious; "but I am in downright earnest. The making, the unmaking and +the enforcing of law are politics, and every American woman should have +an interest in these things. Every thinking woman must have an interest +in them. I must know more of politics." + +"You are right," said her father, thoughtfully; "you are right. I do not +believe a woman should get out of her sphere, but a woman's influence is +mighty, and inasmuch as all law and reform come through the ballot box, +there can be no harm in her giving an intelligent hearing to politics." + +"Then, father, please listen to me for a few minutes; I want to tell you +what has set me to thinking along these lines. Two weeks ago you brought +Maggie Crowley here. I went to see her in her room the next morning, and +she told me her story. Her mother was sick, the children were hungry and +cold, so she started out to find the father before he had spent his +money for drink. + +"When she finally found him, she found him in a saloon in the act of +handing over his last dollar to pay for liquor that others had drunk as +well as himself. She got the dollar some way and started home, when, as +she said, she fell. The dollar rolled into the street and a passerby +picked it up and pocketed it, in spite of the fact that she told him +that it was hers, and that it was the last. + +"I shall never forget the way she looked when she came to this part of +her story. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her voice was lost in a great +big sob. She begged me, for the love of heaven, to go to her mother, who +must be half-crazed with grief because of her disappearance, and to take +her something to eat. + +"So Mrs. Floyd fixed a basket of lunch and we went. A lump rose in my +throat when I went into that place. It was cold, very cold. Maggie's +mother was lying on a bed in one corner of the room, with one thin quilt +over her, and a tiny moaning baby at her breast. Sitting on a box near +the bed were two children, a small boy and a girl. They were huddled +under a fragment of blanket. The boy was crying for something to eat and +his sister was trying bravely to comfort him. + +"There was not a spark of fire nor a crumb of food about the place. When +Mrs. Floyd opened the basket and the children saw what it contained, +they bounded toward it like wolves, and the woman reached out her thin +hand and said, eagerly: 'Give me some quick! I'm nearly starved, and the +baby is so weak--my breasts are dry.' + +"I took off my glove and felt her hand, and I really thought she must be +frozen; but she said she had been that way so much she was growing used +to it. + +"We stopped on our way home and ordered some coal, and later made a raid +on our closets and pantry and made up a load of stuff to take back. I +sent some good blankets and quite an assortment of clothing, so that by +night they were fairly comfortable. + +"I went again the next day to see how they were getting along and to +give them news of Maggie, and while I was there the father came home for +the first time. He was over his spell of intoxication, but was weak, and +tottered like an old man. His eyes were bloodshot, and on the whole he +was not a very prepossessing looking gentleman, but I could not help +feeling sorry for him. It seemed so sad to see a being, created in the +image of God, such a miserable wreck. + +"Casting his eye hurriedly around the room, he went to the bedside and +asked for Maggie. His wife told him how she had gone for him, how she +fell, and the rest of the story, and then he told his tale, and--can you +believe it, father--that man kicked the girl out of the door--kicked his +own daughter down the steps into the storm that night, and gave her the +injury from which she lies here under our roof now. + +"My blood boiled, fairly boiled. I could feel it bubbling. His wife +turned her face to the tiny baby, and I could see her frame shake under +the cover. The man knelt beside the bed and wept, too, and again I was +sorry, with a sort of contempt mixed in, for the man. + +"After a time his wife turned to him, and, resting her thin hand on his +head, spoke kindly to him, and referred him to the Lord for the strength +that he so sorely lacked. The man did pray, and I am sure he was in +earnest; and he asked his wife's forgiveness and took a solemn oath that +he would never touch another cursed drop." + +"Good," ejaculated the judge. + +"Good?" echoed Jean. "Wait, I have not finished yet. I went there +several times. I liked to go. It made me happy to see the look that was +coming into the woman's eyes. She took two half-dollar pieces from +under the pillow one morning, and proudly displayed them, telling me it +was the first time in a year her husband had given her so much. She said +she had hoped in vain, so many times, for him to reform that she had +given up hope, but that now she really believed poor Maggie's misfortune +would prove their blessing. They have not always been poor. Once, when +they were younger, they owned a nice home and the husband occupied a +good position. But he chose for his associates men who spent a good part +of their time in a certain fashionable downtown saloon, and to be social +he drank with them. He was not a man who could drink a great deal and +not become intoxicated, so, when he began to lie around drunk, they +pushed him out. + +"Mrs. Crowley says the starting point of all their poverty and sorrow +and shame was on the threshold of the respectable gilt and glass palace +that bears over its doors the names of Allison, Russell & Joy. She knows +the place well. I think those gentlemen would not be pleased to hear the +things she says of them; for certain it is her husband would never have +been a drunkard if it had been necessary for him to have learned the +habit in a low grog shop." + +Jean paused a second and looked at her father, but he seemed unaware of +her gaze, and she continued: + +"Then I went in to-day to tell them that Maggie would be home in a few +days, and I found a change. The girl Cora was on the bed with her +mother. The blankets and sheets had disappeared. The few pieces of +furniture that the room contained were scattered in disorder. I will try +to tell the rest of the story as Mrs. Crowley told it to me. I will +never forget, father, the helpless despair that sounded in her voice and +manner as she talked. + +"'Ah, Miss Thorn!' she said, wearily, 'It's all over--all gone. I should +have known better than to have hoped again; but hope is so sweet! +Yesterday morning my husband seemed more like himself than he has for +years. He kissed us when he went away and promised to be home early. We +were all very happy. He is such a kind, good man when he is himself. Oh! +if only he had never crossed the threshold of that gilded trap of hell. +Those men's names burn in my mind. I wonder if such men as Allison, +Russell and Joy have hearts. + +"'Cora fixed supper, and then we waited. He did not come; but I felt so +sure some way that he would that I was not uneasy. The children finally +had to eat alone. About 9 o'clock he came. Dear Miss Thorn, if you have +never seen a raving, frenzied man, pray God you never may. This was the +way he came home. He had had just enough of liquor to fire up a gnawing, +burning pain and not enough to satisfy him. He came directly to the bed +and demanded the money he had given me in the morning. I told him it was +gone. He swore an oath, and asked me where. I told him Johnnie had spent +it for food. He swore another awful oath, and took up a stick of wood, +with which he began to beat the boy. + +"'When you are a mother you can better imagine than I can describe how I +felt, lying helpless in bed, and seeing a man, my own husband, so +cruelly beating my innocent child. Cora, poor Cora, went bravely to her +brother's rescue, and her father, God forgive him, beat her until the +blood came from his blows, and she fell to the floor, and then he kicked +her. + +"'I could stand this no longer. I sprang from the bed, but I was weak. I +could do nothing, and he, the man who promised before God to protect me, +kicked me, too. It seemed to me then that his boot-toe pierced my heart. +Johnnie ran out to call some one in, but before he returned my husband +had taken the blankets and other things that he could pawn and had gone. + +"'Perhaps you think it strange for me to tell these things to you, but +my heart is bursting and my brain is on fire with such misery that I +must talk. Come and see what a man can do when crazed with rum--a good +father when he is himself--and in a Christian country! Where are the +preachers and the people who call themselves God's people, that they do +not drive away forever the cause of all this?' + +"I looked at the girl Cora; and I wish, father, that she might be put on +exhibition in some public show window downtown, conspicuously labeled, +'A specimen of the work done by a father when under the effects of +Christian America's legal poison.' + +"She was literally covered with wounds and her legs were so swollen she +could not walk. + +"Now, father, get out your list of political parties, examine the +candidates, and put me where I belong. This is a question that must come +into politics, as all reforms come through the ballot-box, and I must +give my influence to that political party or power making this a +clear-cut issue. I am an Abolitionist." + +"A what?" + +"An Abolitionist." + +"How is that?" + +"Simply enough: I stand for the everlasting abolition of the liquor +traffic. It is quite the proper thing for the daughter of a Republican +to be an Abolitionist." + +Judge Thorn laughed. + +"You put your case plain enough," he said. "There is small room to doubt +how you stand, but I think that you will see that abolition in this case +would be impracticable. You know, my girl, in these days a half-loaf is +better than no bread. Political parties, like the grass of the field, +sprout up and die away. There are but two real parties. The fight on +leading issues is between them. All that is necessary for you to do is +to read the platforms of these two parties and make your choice. +Listen!" + +He took down a political almanac from one of the library shelves. + +"We are opposed," he read "to all sumptuary laws as an interference +with the individual rights of the citizen." + +Jean sat rocking slowly, with her hands clasped behind her head. As her +father read her forehead wrinkled. After he had finished, she waited as +if expecting something more, then said: + +"Is that all?" + +"That is all." + +"Then it occurs to me, if I can understand plain English, that this +party proposes to do nothing to stop the terrible drink curse. Bring on +another. That is not my party." + +Judge Thorn read again, and this time with an air of profound +satisfaction: + +"The first concern of all good government is the virtue and sobriety of +the people and the purity of the home." + +Jean's face lit up, and she looked eagerly toward her father. + +"We cordially sympathize," read on the judge, "with all wise and +well-directed efforts for the promotion of temperance and morality." + +Jean sat looking into the fire. Her father waited a few seconds, then +she turned her face to him. + +"And what do they propose to do?" + +"Do?" + +"Yes, DO! The cordial sympathy of the whole Republican party does not +make Mrs. Crowley any happier nor take any of the soreness out of +Cora's body, nor do anything toward curing poor Maggie; and I cannot +see how 'cordial sympathy' is going to shut up any saloons or keep Mr. +Crowley from getting drunk again. So far, so good, but read on. I am +anxious to learn what this party proposes to DO to promote 'temperance +and morality.'" + +"That is all the platform contains on the subject," said Judge Thorn. +"Individuals are left to their own judgment as to the best methods to be +used in the restriction of the evil, although the policy of the party is +well known." + +"It is?" + +"High license." + +"Does high license promote temperance and morality?" + +"Certainly: high license closes a great many saloons entirely, and puts +the business in the hands of men who run respectable places." + +"Respectable places!" quoted Jean, thoughtfully. + +The judge looked at the fire in silence. + +"And, father," persisted the earnest girl, "do statistics prove that +fewer licenses are issued in cities where high license laws are in +effect and that there is a decrease in crime and poverty?" + +"To be sure. It must be so, for Republicans, as a rule, are the +temperance people and, as a rule, they indorse high license. But you +have heard the reading, 'All wise and well-directed _efforts_,' one is +at liberty to substitute no license by local option, or any other +restrictive measure he deems wise." + +"Is there room on this broad platform for any liquor dealers?" + +"Quite a number; and here again may be seen the higher moral tone of the +party, for nine times out of ten it is the better class of dealers who +are allied with it." + +Jean leaned back in her chair and rocked. As she mused she rocked more +and more slowly, and when she stopped abruptly her father knew the +verdict was ready. + +"Well, father, this much is settled: I do not believe in high license. +In the first place, I think it dishonest to let the rich man, who can +afford to do so, pay for the privilege of making more money and shut out +the poor man, who is trying to earn a living, because he is not already +rich. In the second place, it occurs to my mind, more so after knowing +Mrs. Crowley, that if license laws could be so arranged as to wipe out +the 'respectable' places, the low ones would soon follow. Public +sentiment would not tolerate them, and if it did, the coming generation +would not be lured to destruction by glitter and music. + +"In the third place," and the girl sprang to her feet and stood looking +her father full in the face, "a man who labored fearlessly for the +overthrow of human slavery when public opinion pointed the finger of +scorn at him, said to me not long since: 'Regulations and restrictions +put on such a vice by the government are but its terms of partnership.'" + +It took Judge Thorn half a minute to recognize his words. Then he +laughed. + +"Jean, child, you are getting sharp. Your logic is all right, but you +must remember times have changed. This is different." + +"I cannot see, father, that the moral issue is any different. Of the two +great evils, intemperance is certainly a greater curse than ever slavery +was; for while it has all the pain and heartaches and sorrow of every +description that accompanies slavery, the worst feature of it is that +hell is filling up with souls that drink their doom when they drain the +wine cup. I think I understand myself, father, and I say again, I am an +Abolitionist. Bring on some other party platform." + +"There are no others but the labor organizations and the 'cranks.'" + +"What do the labor people say?" + +"They regard intelligence, virtue and temperance, important as they are, +as secondary to the great material issues now pressing for solution." + +"And the 'cranks,' as you call them?" + +"They have no policy, and their politics consists in trying to undo all +the temperance legislation they get through other parties because it +does not come through theirs. As a political party they are the most +fanatical and narrow-minded that history takes account of. Indeed, I +doubt not that, in certain instances, their obstinate opposition to men +and measures has been little short of criminal. But I will read: + +"'We favor the legal prohibition by state and national legislation of +the manufacture, importation and sale of alcoholic beverages.'" + +"Eureka!" she shouted. "I am not alone. How many others like me?" + +"A quarter of a million, I presume," he answered, a trifle grimly. + +"And must I take my stand in politics away from my dear father, who is +so wise and just?" + +"You are young, Jean, and impulsive. You will see the matter in a +different light when you have given the subject more thought. I am old +now. For over half a century I have studied the affairs of men, and I +tell you the time is not now expedient for such an issue to be forced to +the front." + +"When will it be?" + +"When sentiment is strong enough behind the movement to enforce the +law." + +"Strange," mused Jean. "One might almost imagine, by the amount of +resolving that has been done in the last few years, that sentiment was +strong enough to sink the traffic five miles deep in the ocean of +righteous indignation. I tell you, father, sentiment is the prime +essential of the whole thing; but as long as it floats around +everywhere, like moonshine, what is it good for? We need concentration +and crystallization now. In other words, I believe in a party of +embodied sentiment." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +ASLEEP IN JESUS. + + +Gilbert Allison, of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, wholesale and +retail liquor dealers, walking briskly along a sideway that led toward +one of the great thoroughfares of the city, halted a second before +crossing the street. As he stopped a voice reached his ear. Hearing the +voice he took a more careful glance at the surroundings and found +himself standing in front of a plain little wooden structure that he +learned, from a sign upon one corner, was some sort of an orthodox +chapel. Through the narrow, open doorway the voice floated: + + + Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep, + From which none ever wake to weep-- + A calm and undisturbed repose, + Unbroken by the last of foes. + Asleep in Jesus! Oh, how sweet + To be for such a slumber meet! + With holy confidence to sing + That death has lost its venom sting. + + +Both words and tune were unfamiliar to him. Was it the song itself, sung +to the sweetly pathetic tune of "Rest," was it the strangely beautiful +and solemn voice of the singer, or was it common curiosity to see the +owner of the unusual voice that proved the attraction prompting him to +step into the vestibule? Unseen he watched as the song went on: + + + Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest, + Whose waking is supremely blest. + No fear nor foe shall dim the hour + That manifests the Savior's power. + Asleep in Jesus! Oh, for me + May such a blissful refuge be! + Securely shall my ashes lie + And wait the summons from the sky. + + +The sweet voice of the singer died away, and the stillness was broken +only by low sobbing. Then the minister arose. + +Gilbert Allison had seen enough. The plain, dark coffin just before the +altar railing told him that another human soul had left its earthly body +and had gone beyond. + +He was not interested in this. His mind dwelt on the singer. She was +rather small, a well-formed and graceful appearing young woman of +perhaps twenty-two or twenty-four. She wore a plain dark dress, and a +round hat rested on the masses of red-brown hair that framed her face +and crowned her shapely head. Here and there in the mass a carved silver +hair-pin showed itself, and Gilbert Allison found himself studying the +effect as he walked down the street; found himself puzzled as to why he +had stopped and noticed her hair or her. Evidently she had made an +impression on him. He tried, in a way, to analyze this, and finally gave +it up, yet found himself continually recalling the face in its frame of +red-brown hair. + +He had known many charming women in his three and thirty years of life, +but he had never felt before the indescribable charm that had suddenly, +like the fragrance of a hidden violet, come to him for the unknown +singer in the dingy chapel. Gilbert Allison had guarded well his heart's +affections, but there comes a time in the lives of most men when the +heart refuses to be subject to the will and obstinately goes whither it +pleases. This man's heart was about to assert its rights. The daughter +of a Republican was to have a lover, for it was Miss Thorn who sang. + +That Miss Thorn should sing had been the wish of the now lifeless +sleeper, and Jean had done her best. + +All that was mortal of Maggie Crowley rested in the plain, dark coffin. +A life fraught with sorrow and tears and an innocent shame was ended; a +body racked with hunger and pain and cold was at rest. From the time of +her awful hurt, now a year ago, Maggie had been an invalid. The children +had gone out to work, and the frail mother had tried to cheer them as +she toiled in the valley of despair. A new sorrow had come into the +wretched home: Cora, yet a child in years, because she had a fair face +and a drunkard for a father, had been robbed of her one priceless +possession--her unspotted character--by a man whose name was familiar in +high circles, and whose hand was courted by more than one mother for +some cherished daughter. + +From the time that her sister had bartered away her purity, in the +bitter, thankless battle that she fought for bread, Maggie had steadily +grown weaker, and when the mother knew the time was near at hand for her +to go she sent for Miss Thorn. + +Jean had never been beside a death-bed, but she did not hesitate. + +Maggie was lying, white and thin, upon the pillow. She looked eagerly +toward the door. Her eyes lit with a lingering light, and a faint smile +came around the corners of her drawn mouth when she saw that it was +Jean. She spoke slowly and softly, without much effort, and quite +distinctly. + +"I'm going pretty soon, Miss Thorn, and I wanted to see you. You've been +so good to us--God will bless you for it. When I am gone, don't forget +poor mother. Please don't, Miss Thorn! She will be sad. I'm the only one +that remembered the other days, and we used sometimes to talk of them +and pray that they might come back. Maybe God will send them back some +day--but I will not be here. I'm not afraid to die. Christ died for the +drunkard's child--I'm sure he did. I'm so glad to go. In my Father's +house are many mansions--many mansions--one for us." + +She closed her eyes as she repeated the words softly. + +"When I am gone, do not feel sad, mother--not too sad," she continued in +a moment. "Think that I have only gone to sleep to wake up where there +is no more sorrow. I'll be waiting in our mansion, mother, and there we +will be happy, for the Book says he will not be there who puts the +bottle to his neighbor's lips." + +She stopped to rest. The room was very quiet. + +"When my father comes," a look of intense longing came into her sunken +eyes, and for a moment she struggled to force back the great sob of +sorrow that seemed choking her, "tell him 'goodby' for Maggie. Perhaps +he will be sorry--not like he once would have been--just a little. Don't +let the children forget me. Dear children! How I wish I could take them +all to the mansion. And Cora, poor Cora----" + +The last tears that ever shone in Maggie's eyes filled them now. + +"God knows about Cora," said Jean, tenderly, while the mother wept in +silence. + +The dying girl lay quite exhausted, and, while she rested, her eyes +wandered from one to the other of the few around the bed and rested +lovingly on her mother's face. Her minutes were numbered. Mortality was +ebbing away. When she spoke again it was with more of an effort, pausing +now and then for breath. + +"Stoop over, mother; let me put--my arms around--your dear, kind neck. +Put your face down--so I can put my cheek--against yours--as I did when +we were happy. I'm going back--to it. I smell the roses. I hear the +pigeons--on the roof. Lift me--mother--gently. I am--tired. +Sing--my--good night--song--I'll--go--to--sleep." + +Mrs. Crowley drew the dying girl's head close to her heart and tried to +sing; but her voice failed. Then, in the presence of the death angel, +Jean sang for the girl's long sleeping. + +Suddenly a clear, happy, childish voice rang out on the +stillness--"Papa's coming!" + +It was the last. The arms around the mother's neck unclasped. The weary +head sank upon the pillow. The eyelids fluttered. The breaths came +shorter and shorter--the weary girl had entered into rest. + +The soul of the drunkard's daughter had gone where justice reigns +supreme; where a God of justice watches the kingdoms of the earth and in +mercy stays the doom that comes a certain penalty of the nation that +sells its maids and youths to the rum fiend. + +Mrs. Crowley stood looking down on the wan face of her first-born. + +"Thank God she is happy! But it's hard--so hard!" + +A mother's love is the same the world around. This mother threw herself +down by the bedside, and, holding one of the lifeless hands to her lips, +sobbed bitterly. + +It seemed a desecration that just now the father should come stumbling +into the scene, filling the room with the fumes of liquor and muttering +drunken curses. But Maggie was beyond the reach of human harm. This +would never pain her heart again. + +Neighbors came in, and Jean stepped out into the fresh air. + +It was nearly noontime. The streets were busy, and as she went towards +home she saw the beer wagons driving in every direction, loaded with +their freight of sorrow and pain and death. As she passed the palaces of +gilded doom, arrayed in cut glass and mirrors, luring the souls of men +and boys to hell, she thought of the Christian voters of the nation who +allow it to be so because, bound by party ties and fooled by party +leaders, they will not force this mighty issue to the front and demand +its recognition at the ballot-box; and these words rang in her ears: +"Because I have called and ye have refused, ye have set at naught all my +counsel. I also will laugh at your calamity when your destruction cometh +as a whirlwind." + +The words burned in her mind, and when she reached home she entered the +library and without removing hat or gloves threw herself upon a sofa. + +It was not quite time for luncheon. The house was quiet. + +Vivian had, during the year, married the rector of a large and +fashionable city church. For weeks before the eventful occasion life had +been one round of shopping and fitting, of entertaining and rehearsing. +Jean, as maid of honor, had figured conspicuously in the different +functions, and for a time her mind was so absorbed with the fragrance +and sunshine of life that its seamy side was forgotten. But after it +was all over her thoughts and sympathies went out again to that family +of the "other half" that she had so strangely become interested in, and +the old question pressed itself for solution, why, in a Christian land +of plenty, such a state of life for such vast numbers was allowable or +even possible. + +With the sound of the dying girl's voice in her ears and the sight of a +nation's legalized poison yet before her vision she rested, and so +engrossed was she with her thoughts that she did not notice the entrance +of her father. + +"A penny for your thoughts, my dear." + +Jean looked up suddenly. Then she caught her father's hand and drew him +to her side. + +"I have seen a death to-day, father--a death, a drunkard, loads of beer +and whisky." + +"Crowley dead at last?" + +"Maggie." + +"Poor girl. No doubt she is better off." + +"Yes, better off," repeated Jean. "But, father, I have been thinking of +the whirlwind. You know the Book that has voiced unerringly the stage +play of the ages says destruction is coming as a whirlwind--as a +whirlwind. Can you not catch its roaring under the bluster of silver and +tariff and war? Do you never hear the mutterings of its power? Are there +not signs of the coming whirlwind--signs unmistakable--roastings in the +South and lynchings in the North, bloody strikes from east to west, +deep-seated unrest among the nation's laboring masses, and the steadily +increasing cry of a multitude of suffering and helpless people writhing +under the heel of the great iniquity? Couple the signs of the times, +father, with an indisputable knowledge of corruption in politics, the +inefficacy of the law because of the absolute power of rum and 'boodle' +and the utter absence of any fixed moral principle in the dealings of +the great majority of the old party leaders, and have we not an 'issue' +that imperatively demands the attention of every loyal American? + +"The more I think, the less I blame the laboring element for their +dissatisfaction, bordering on madness at times. I feel that they have +just cause to be alarmed. Am I a pessimist, father, or is there a cancer +eating out the nation's life?" + +The young woman stood in the center of the room, erect and with arm +extended. The lawyer was looking at her with a gleam of fatherly +admiration; but as she closed the outburst with her question he grew +grave and stroked his beard. The facts were not unfamiliar to him. + +"I do wish," he said thoughtfully, "that the laboring element would see +that it is to their interests to stand by that party that promises them +the most in the way of reform, instead of making so much fuss and +striking and splitting into small parties that can hope to effect +nothing and might cripple their best friend and put the country +hopelessly in the hands of the political enemies of progress and +reform." + +Jean laughed. + +"You look now for all the world, father, like a child whom I saw a few +days ago. I came upon her holding a doll's body, with a stump of neck +where the head had once been. She looked down at it tenderly and smiled +a dear little motherly smile. 'What do you see, child?' I asked. 'My +dolly's beautiful face,' she said. 'Where is it?' said I. 'It's gone,' +she answered, proudly, but with the fond look still in her eyes. You +view the reform element in your party in about the same light." + +"When did you turn champion of the labor party?" said the judge, a +trifle impatiently. + +"I have done no turning. There is but one party standing for the real +good of the people. What is the use of organizing a party to exterminate +trusts and then being afraid to measure arms politically with the +greatest trust on earth? The laboring element will seek their best +interests sooner or later." + +"Your party has added a few labor planks to catch votes." + +"I beg your pardon, father. Almost from the beginning, some thirty years +ago, this party stood as it does now. The trouble with you is, if I may +be allowed to say it, you know nothing of the party I have discovered. +Let me read you its platform." + +And from a small, green book Jean began her reading, while Judge Thorn +listened attentively. But before she had finished James appeared with +the evening paper, and almost unconsciously he opened it. As he cast his +eyes on the page a smile overspread his face, and the words of the +reading were lost. Jean finished presently, and frowned a little, when +she saw her father so deeply engrossed in his paper. Presently he looked +up, the broad smile still upon his face. + +"Jean, my girl, listen!" and he read an account of the dramatic passage +of the anti-canteen law by Congress. + +Judge Thorn had been deeply interested in the canteen question. He had +known a boy, the son of a professional friend, who had been most +carefully and prayerfully reared at home in fear of the inheritance of +an appetite for liquor, but who had gone at his country's call to uphold +her honor, and had become a drunkard through the regimental canteen. He +himself had seen the fifty law-breaking canteens in Camp Thomas at +Chickamauga, with their daily sales amounting to hundreds of dollars. He +had seen something of the same evil at the little army post near their +own city; and a young man who had been his confidential clerk before the +war, and who was now with one of the volunteer regiments at Manila, had +written to him of the canteen: "It has been the curse of this army, and +has caused more deaths than the Mauser bullets. It is a recognized fact +that in regiments where canteens are established drinking is not +restrained, rather encouraged, and numerous sprees are started that are +finished in the saloons just outside. Six cases of delirium tremens have +resulted from the establishment of the regimental groggery. Our army is +in danger a thousand times greater than any foreign foe may ever bring +against us. When will the government take action?" + +The lawyer's clear mind had seen where the responsibility for the whole +system lay, and, sorely tried by the President's inaction, partly to +lift from his party the odium of the canteen disgrace and partly as a +matter of real heart choice, he had worked with more than his usual +vigor to help bring to bear a pressure in Washington great enough to +abolish the army saloon. + +"Cheer, Jean!" he said. "Cheer for the party in power. The bill has +passed." + +"Was it your party or public sentiment in spite of your party that +brought about the passage of the bill?" asked Jean. + +"Sentiment, my dear girl," said the judge, dogmatically, "without +machinery back of it, is good for nothing." + +"Exactly. If you remember, father, that has been the burden of my plea +for a new party. Answer me a question, and I will cheer so that I may be +heard a block. You tell me that the position of this party you ask me to +cheer for is high license; now here is a list of ninety-five of the +principal cities of the country, forty-six high license and forty-nine +low license. The total arrests for drunkenness in the high license +cities was 288,907, as against 208,537 in the low license cities. What I +want to know is this: How is this sort of a temperance measure going to +'promote temperance and morality'? Public control, local option, mulct +tax and other measures you devise figure up about the same way. Take +these statistics and in the light of them solve the puzzle for me." + +"Statistics are hard to dwell in unity with. Take them to a preacher. +This is a matter for them to deal with," laughed the judge. + +"Why do they not deal with them, then? Seven million church member +voters in this country! Why do not they focus their religion and do +something? I divine a reason. While they live all the rest of the year +with prayers and resolutions, they go out on a moral debauch on election +day with a disreputable individual known as Party." + +The judge stroked his beard and smiled. Then he turned again to his +paper. "No need," he said, complacently, "for a better party than what +we have. Listen!" and again he read the measure that had so pleased him. +"Is it not splendid, and so plainly worded that a wayfaring man, though +a fool or a third-rate lawyer, cannot mistake the meaning of it. Now +watch the machinery work. We shall have 'father's boy' back cheering for +the grand old party yet," and the judge placed his hand fondly on +Jean's shoulder. + +"I'll keep my eye on the 'machine,'" answered Jean, playfully, "but I am +woefully afraid it is punctured, though I wouldn't mention it for +anything." + +[Illustration: "_Vote for Whisky, Boys!_"] + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +LESSONS OF AN ELECTION DAY. + + +It was the municipal election day. Judge Thorn was alone in his office. +He sat at his desk, which was piled with papers which he was busy +sorting. The door opened and Miss Thorn entered. The judge looked over +his shoulder. "You are a bit late," he said. + +Jean looked at her watch. + +"A trifle," she answered, "but I have always wanted to know what sort of +people run our government, and I have been out satisfying my curiosity. +I have been to the polls." + +"To the polls," echoed the judge, sharply, whirling around from his desk +with a sudden movement that scattered his papers over the floor. + +"That is what I said, father. I have been to the polls; and worse, I +took an active part in the proceedings by offering the voters 'no +license' tickets." + +"Jean, I must say you have overstepped the bounds of all propriety. You +are a young lady who has been allowed a good many privileges, but this +is carrying things a little too far," said the judge, almost hotly. + +"You were there this morning, I believe, father," Jean answered, +coolly. + +"I believe I was, but that is no reason you should go. It is no fit +place for a decent woman." + +"I will admit that, father, and I will go a little further and say it is +no fit place for a decent man either." + +"Men have grown used to such sights and sounds as are seen and heard +around a polling place." + +"I suppose so. But if decent men can grow used to such things and escape +contamination, I think decent women can do the same; and if decent men +cannot I suppose you would advise them to stay away from the polls." + +"No; no, indeed. The bad element largely predominates now, and it is the +duty of every good citizen to stand by his colors at the ballot box. But +we will not discuss the matter further. The fact remains the same. Of +course you are of age and can go where you choose, yet I am nevertheless +displeased." + +"I am sorry that you are displeased, father, and if my doing so will +afford you any satisfaction, I will promise you that I will not be +caught in such a howling mob again until I can go as an equal of some of +the specimens I have seen today." + +Jean removed her hat and jabbed the hat pin into it with some asperity. + +"I have been grossly insulted," she said. + +"Just what I have expected to hear," said her father, "and what can be +done when you put yourself in the way of it?" + +"I have not the remotest idea how I put myself in the way of it, but you +will probably be able to explain to me. Our venerable Uncle Sam is the +offending party, and the offense is something like the indignity you +would offer me if you gave Vivian all the privileges and love that you +should share with me, because she happened to be born with black hair, +and then should try to keep me in a state of blissful delusion by +telling me I had the sweeter disposition. There would be about as much +sense and justice in such a procedure, coming from you, as there is in +the way Uncle Sam treats women. + +"Here I am, a woman of good moral character, fairly intelligent, I hope, +with a good education, denied my right to the ballot because, forsooth, +I chanced to be born a woman and am considered too good. To-day's visit +to the polls has reminded me of this insult, tendered by our government +to its loyal women. + +"By the time I got within two blocks of the polling place, I could hear +the general commotion. When I arrived on the scene of action, I found a +number of women, of good standing in the community, trying to get men to +vote against license. Truly a humiliating business! But as they pressed +me, I took a few of the ballots and started into the crowd, while a +friendly looking policeman followed me. + +"I had hardly made a start when some one crossed my path yelling wildly, +'Vote for whisky, boys! Vote for whisky, boys!' He was that +half-witted, pumpkin-colored individual that you discharged last winter +because he did not know enough to keep the horses' feet clean. Armed +with his license ballot, he halted a second before me; then, fluttering +the ballot, which he held between his fingers under my nose, he shouted +again and again, 'Vote for whisky, boys!" + +"He gave me a look that told me plainer than a volume of words could +have done that he recognized his importance. He knew that he stood head +and shoulders above me in Uncle Sam's estimation, in spite of my +learning and morality, because on him had been bestowed a gift denied +me. + +"I do not like it. I want the right of citizenship. I want to stand on +an equality with folks at least that do not know enough to clean a +horse's feet." + +"It sounds very foolish, Jean," said her father, "for one of your birth +and breeding to be talking thus of an equality with such a character as +this." + +"It does sound foolish, wonderfully foolish," admitted Jean. "You and I +know, father, that I am his superior, but when it comes to a question of +the social welfare, that is a very different thing. He well understands +that he is a privileged character there. He is a unit of society's +make-up, and where do I come in? Along with the Chinese, the ex-convict +and the insane! I do not relish any such sort of company. God made woman +capable of self-government, and expected it of her. Why should she not +be on a suffrage equality with man?" + +"Why do you want to vote, Jean?" asked the judge, as he would begin +with a witness. + +"Why do you want to vote, father?" sharply replied the girl. + +"Why, my vote is my individuality in the body politic. I could not do +without my vote," said the judge, with a slight hesitation. + +"Do you not suppose I want some individuality, too?" came the prompt +retort. + +The judge laughed. + +"I have every reason to believe you do," he said. + +"Do you not suppose that I would not like to help make the laws that +govern me?" asked Jean, taking upon her the role of inquisitor. + +"Men can make enough laws for both sexes, I guess," was the reply, +uttered in a tone that carried a suspicion of dismissal. + +"I guess they can," persisted Jean; "but what sort of laws have they +been? Heathenish, some of them!" + +"For instance?" + +"Laws that have been on our statute books allowing fathers to will away +their unborn children; laws allowing the father to appoint guardians of +whatever kind or creed over his children, leaving the mother powerless. +And what shall we say about the abominable laws made by men everyone of +them, that legalize the sale of drink?" + +"Well, a woman is a woman, Jean, and the polls is not a fit place for a +woman," and the judge set his lips very firmly. + +"That is the assertion you made at the outset, father. It is no +argument, and much as I respect you, I can hardly accept it as final. +You know, father, that if polling places are not fit for decent women, +neither are they fit for decent men, and the sooner decent people get +around and clean them up, the better it will be for the country. Come, +now, if you have a sound, logical reason why women should not vote, +bring it on." + +"Well," said the judge, "even admitting that the advent of women in +politics might have a cleansing effect, women do not want the ballot." + +"What women?" demanded Jean. + +"The majority of women." + +"How do you know they do not?" + +"It is to be supposed that if they were clamoring to any great extent +for it we would hear of it through the papers." + +"What papers? Papers that oppose it to the bitter end? I can show you +papers by the dozen and the score that would enlighten you along this +line. Women do not ask, but rather they demand, the ballot. But this is +begging the question. If it is right for women to have the ballot, it is +right, and if it is wrong, it is wrong--that is all there is to it. Now, +father, tell me the reasons." + +"Why, Jean, have not I given you reasons and have you not overruled +them, every one?" was the almost testy answer. "A woman is a woman, and +God never intended her to vote." + +Jean laughed merrily. + +"What are you laughing at?" demanded her father. + +"Why, at you; you are back just where you started. Women must not vote +because they are women. If you have nothing better to offer there is no +use of going over the grounds again. This makes me think of the time I +studied circulating decimals." + +The judge joined in Jean's laugh, and turned again to his papers, as if +glad of a diversion. + +After Judge Thorn had picked up and rearranged his papers he looked +toward Jean, who had suddenly grown quiet. In her face he saw something +that was new to him and that in some way sent a little jealous pang to +his heart. Her face was a dream study. A soft, far-away expression +rested over it, and her father knew that she was somewhere, away from +her surroundings, but he did not interrupt her. Presently she spoke: + +"I saw a man to-day." + +"I supposed that you had seen several." + +"Well, of course," the girl admitted, "but I rarely notice men, and that +I remember this one so distinctly and think of him surprises me. He was +tall and broad shouldered and dressed in a navy blue business suit, and +I think probably he was the handsomest man I have ever seen, though I +cannot tell why I think so. His hair and eyes were brown, his hair +almost black, it was so dark, and a trifle curly. His eyes were clear +and honest looking, with a touch of fun in them and something else that +I have not been able to define, but that I liked. He wore a mustache, +but it only partially concealed his mouth. I think perhaps it was his +mouth that I liked best. It was a firm mouth, maybe a hard one, but I +admire a firm man." + +Judge Thorn laughed. + +"You must have examined him pretty closely." + +"No, father, I saw him at a glance some way. Perhaps he impressed me as +he did because I was so disappointed in him. I saw him standing at a +short distance from the animated crowd around the polls, looking on with +an air of mingled amusement and disgust. I made up my mind that he was +the very individual who would take one of my 'no-license' votes, so I +asked him. + +"He took off his hat and looked down at me, for he is tall, a look made +of a little astonishment, a bit of fun and, I imagined, some pity, and +said: 'I am really very sorry that I cannot do as you wish, but I cannot +consistently vote against license, being myself engaged in the liquor +business.' + +"Of course I said no more, but I was never so surprised in my life, and +to tell the truth, I was disappointed." + +Judge Thorn looked relieved. + +"I believe I know now why I remembered him so well," continued Jean. "He +was the only liquor dealer among those I spoke to to-day, and ignorantly +I accosted many, who refused my ticket in a gentlemanly manner. Yes, I +have now seen a gentlemanly liquor dealer. I wonder if I will ever see +him again. But see! Here are the horses, father. Come, let us go," she +said, taking his arm. + +"Poor father! I am sorry for you. It must be a trial to have so strange +a child, but really I cannot help it, and I am sure you will forgive me +when you remember that I am 'my father's boy.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE NATION'S DEFENDERS. + + +It was one of those prophetic days of early spring when heaven and earth +are filled with faint, far promises of the sunshine and verdure of the +summer, and when an expectant hush fills all the air, save as now and +then a breath of the awakening south wind stirs the faded memories of +last autumn's glories where the dried leaves cluster among the thickets +or in the fence corners. + +The Thorn carriage occupied by Jean and the coachman, James, was rolling +along a stretch of suburban road. + +Jean had just left the home of the Crowleys', and sat in a reverie of +sympathy and indignation. Personally she felt that she was absolutely +safe from any harm from the traffic in misery and death; but this very +fact made her more pitiful and more determined to use what influence and +power she could command against it. The carriage slowed up a bit where +the road divided. + +"Which way, Miss Jean?" + +"To the army post, James," and she continued her brown study, seeming to +notice nothing of the landscape until they entered the massive iron +gates of the reservation. + +Just inside the gates, on either side, heavy cannons were grouped in +triangular fashion and surmounted with cones of cannon balls. At regular +intervals black sign-boards, bright with gilt lettering, gave notice +that just so far and no farther, and just so fast and no faster, the +public might travel in this well-arranged institution of the government. + +The drive around the inclosure was a long one, and when the Thorn +carriage had reached the side farthest removed from the buildings, a +sudden jar and crash startled Jean, and suddenly she found herself lying +on the roadside. + +Fortunately she was not hurt, and after she had brushed the dust from +her eyes and pinned a rent in her skirt she found that only a slight +break in the carriage had caused the accident. So after tying the horses +to a hitching post at some distance, James pushed the carriage to one +side, and with the broken part started to a blacksmith shop at no great +distance outside the post, Jean agreeing to wait for him, unless he +should be gone too long. + +After James had disappeared behind the trees, Jean seated herself +comfortably on a bench near by, and with her head resting against a +majestic oak, gazed upward at the soft spring sky showing through the +brown network of the branches. A bird a great way off circled against +the floating clouds for a time and disappeared. + +At one end of the inclosure the drill ground, checkered and bare, could +be seen. Through the trees the red brick walls of the houses in the +officers' quarters showed, while, looking in another direction, she +could see a number of stone buildings with porches running their entire +length, onto which opened many doors. + +A little removed from all these was a common frame building, which, +judging by the number of soldiers gathered around it, was the popular +resort of the post. This was the canteen. + +Jean's eyes fell with displeasure upon this. It seemed to her like a +dark blot upon an otherwise fair picture; like a grave mistake in an +otherwise well-ordered institution. + +A couple of peafowl trailed their plumage over the dry brown grass +across the way from her, and in the slanting rays of the sun they looked +like brilliant jewels against the rough and dingy background. But their +harsh notes seemed at variance with their beauty, and this, too, made +Jean think of the government--a government born more beautiful than any +other, and reared in its infancy with the care of a child, yet +presenting to the world, by its administration, which is a government's +voice, an inconsistency appalling. + +Far from broken axles and torn skirts Jean's thoughts traveled, until +she was brought to a sense of her surroundings by footsteps, and looking +up she saw that two soldiers had turned the curve that shut off the view +of the main road and were coming toward her. + +One was a thick-set man of about middle age. He had that untidy +appearance that marks a slovenly person, and will appear even in a +soldier in spite of all wise and well-directed efforts on the part of a +government to keep him neat. His large, light gray, campaign hat was +pulled down well over his eyes and a short cob pipe was clinched between +his teeth. + +The other man was younger and not as heavy. He wore a long coat, open +from the neck down, and his cap, set on one side of his head, left his +bleared and bloated face in full view. + +As they came nearer the younger man staggered fearfully, and Jean knew +that he was intoxicated. A feeling, half fear and half loathing, took +possession of her as these two ill-visaged privates came nearer; but +supposing they would pass, she kept her seat. + +"Take-a-hic-your pipe-a-hic-out, in-a-hic-the presence of-a-hic-ladies," +the man in the long cloak said. + +The thick-set man took his pipe from his teeth and knocked the ashes out +against the palm of his hand. + +They were directly in front of Jean now. + +The man in the long cloak made a tottering bow and addressed her. + +"May a-hic we sit down?" + +"Certainly," said Jean, the blood rushing to her face at their boldness, +and she hurriedly started to her feet. + +"Keep-a-hic-your seat and-a-hic-don't get agitated; +we're-a-hic-gentle-mench." + +The thick-set man had already seated himself, and the other man +followed his example, forcing Jean to a place by his side. + +Judging the thick-set man to be the least intoxicated and more decent, +she appealed to him for protection. The lower part only of his face was +visible, but she saw that he laughed. + +"He don't mean no harm. Keep still and he'll go on about his business," +he assured her. + +Jean's face blazed and her heart beat with the force of four. + +The tall man emptied his mouth of tobacco juice and other fluids and +substances, and the sickening mixture fell so close to Jean's foot that +her boot was spattered. Then he wiped the dribbles on the back of his +hand and turned to her. + +He bent so close that his hot, foul breath struck her with staggering +force and his bloated face almost touched her cheek. + +"You're-a-hic-a little peach," he said, with a leer, +"and-a-hic-I'm-a-hic-a going to k-k-kiss you." + +It was then Jean screamed with all her might, and at the same moment a +man sprang to her rescue from a light buggy that had rounded the bend of +the drive unobserved. + +The thick-set man suddenly disappeared, but the other soldier, either +too drunk for rapid movement or too muddled to understand the gravity of +the situation, only rose to his feet and stood leering at Jean with +disgusting admiration. + +The next instant he was felled to the earth and a broad-shouldered man +stood over him ready to render a second blow if occasion demanded. + +The soldier made an attempt to rise. + +"Lie there, you brute," the man cried, hotly, and the drunken fellow +obeyed. + +"Nice-a-hic-way to treat a-hic-man that's +protecting-a-hic-the-a-hic-honor-a-hic, the honor of----" he muttered. + +But the gentleman turned to the woman, and Jean, trembling with fear and +indignation, with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes, looked a second time +into the face of the gentlemanly liquor dealer. + +"I am so glad you came!" she gasped, and held out her hand to him. + +As they turned to his buggy the gentleman cast a glance back at the +prostrate soldier, who had crawled behind a bush to sleep until removed +to the guardhouse. + +"Such creatures are a disgrace to a civilized government," he exclaimed, +with ill-concealed wrath. + +"Our government is a disgrace to itself," she added. "It creates such +creatures by a legal process, and yonder is the factory," and she +pointed in the direction of the canteen. + +"Canteen beer--canteen beer," she began again, with warmth, but stopped, +for she knew that she was very much excited and that she might not speak +wisely. + +If she had opened an argument with the gentleman at her side she would +have found that he was well posted with the old arguments about the +canteen being an institution to keep the soldiers from the greed of evil +saloons outside the different posts, but her companion respected her +silence, and did not speak until they had passed the great iron gate, +when it became necessary. + +"Now," said he, "if you will direct the way, and have no objections, it +will give me pleasure to see you safely home." + +"I am Miss Thorn," said Jean, giving him her address. + +"Miss Thorn? Perhaps you are related to Judge Thorn?" + +"I am," replied Jean, smiling. + +"That is nice. I have had the pleasure of meeting the judge, and I do +not know a man whom I would rather oblige. He is a man all men honor." + +"I am his daughter," Jean said, proudly, "and I assure you my father +will feel under lasting obligations to you for your kindness to me this +afternoon, Mr. ----" + +"Allison," the gentleman said. + +"Allison?" It was Jean's turn to look surprised. + +"Yes, madam. Allison--Gilbert Allison." + +"Not of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy?" + +"The same, madam." + +She looked at him with mingled wonder and regret. The firm name of +Allison, Russell & Joy to her mind was a synonym for heartless +destruction of happiness and life. The traffic itself was a great evil +generality, and as such met condemnation. But in generalities, as in +mountain ranges, there are specific points that tower out distinctively +for consideration. Such a pinnacle of iniquity this liquor firm had +seemed to Jean to be since her acquaintance with the Crowleys. + +"You must be mistaken," she observed at length. + +Gilbert Allison had been amused before. Now he laughed. "If I am +mistaken, life has been a vast mistake," he said, "for I have supposed +myself to be this same Allison for over thirty years. But why do you +think so?" + +Jean shook her head sadly. + +"I do not understand it at all," she said, gravely. + +"I beg your pardon; but if you will explain to me the trouble, perhaps I +may be able to enlighten your understanding." + +"I do not understand how the same person can be so kind and yet so +cruel. I do not understand how one person can risk his life to save a +life--for perhaps you saved mine to-day--and yet cause death, and you +have been the cause of death." + +Jean spoke slowly and looked grave. + +Mr. Allison felt like laughing again, but politely refrained. + +"I have been accused of a number of things in my life," he said, +good-naturedly, "but, until to-day, murder has been omitted from the +list." + +"There are different modes of procedure--but murder is murder after +all!" + +"Certainly, but I was not aware that I had been connected with a +'procedure.'" + +"Men deal out slow death for gold and trust its clinking rattle to still +the groans and cryings that they cause." Jean spoke reflectively, as if +to herself. "In savage countries where there is no Christianity, where +all is black, human life is sometimes offered as a sacrifice to gods. +Here in Christian America an altar is piled high with mother hearts and +manhood and immortal souls. + +"This sacrifice goes on unceasingly; the altar fires are never out, and +the wail of the little ones and the groans of the crushed that go up +from this great altar only cause this god to laugh. + +"This god is made of atoms. EVERY ATOM IS A MAN. + +"All this time the Christian men of this Christian nation stand around +in a great circle, weeping and calling on a Christian's God to hasten +the day when this other god shall be ground to dust, meantime mocking +their God by legalizing this monstrous thing with their ballots." + +Mr. Allison had probably never heard a young lady talk exactly as this +one talked, and yet he enjoyed it, and watched the motion of her hand as +she used it to impress her words. + +"I am afraid I do not understand you even yet," he said, when she +paused. "Do you refer to the tariff or seal fisheries or female +suffrage or war or what?" + +"I refer to the rum power in America. That is the god I mean. The most +heartless, depraved monopoly on earth, yet men and governments grovel in +the dust at its feet and cringe like dogs before its power." + +Mr. Allison was silent, and she continued, presently, turning her face +to him. + +"It has always seemed to me that the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy was +an important part of this great iniquity; partly, I presume, because I +happen to be acquainted with a family that has been utterly destroyed by +that firm. Tell me truly--have they, have YOU never heard wails and +cries and bitter prayers in the stillness of the night? Have you never +felt the burden of your _awful_ sin?" + +Mr. Allison smiled. + +"I am sure," he said, "I have never heard any weeping or wailing that I +have been aware of, and really I hope to be pardoned, but the burden +that you speak of has failed to make itself felt." + +"Well, you will hear it some day. Even legal, licensed murder will have +its reckoning time. You will see a face some day; you will hear a voice +that will haunt you like the wail of a lost soul." + +Mr. Allison shrugged his shoulders as if in apprehension. + +"I hope not," he said; "but Miss Thorn, I am afraid you do not enjoy the +society of a liquor dealer." + +"On general principles, no. And yet I have enjoyed yours very much this +afternoon, you may be sure. I thank you for it, and--I am sorry that you +are a 'man atom' of the great iniquity." + +"I am sorry that you are sorry," he answered, and then the Thorn +homestead rose in view. + +"I never was so frightened in my life," Jean said, as they drove in +front of the gate. "It seems that no one is safe from insult and injury +in a land where liquor is a legalized drink. I never thought that I +should fall a victim to it." + +"Or be rescued by a liquor dealer." + +"That is true," and Jean laughed merrily. + +Then she thanked him again, and for half a minute he held her small, +gloved hand in his, as he assisted her from the buggy. + +"It is I who am grateful that Fate allowed me to be the knight." Then he +lifted his hat gallantly, and Jean was gone, but her parting smile +stayed with him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE JUDGE MAKES A DISCOVERY. + + +After the adventure at the army post Mr. Allison called not infrequently +at the home of the Thorns, and though, of course, cordially received by +both Jean and her father, nearly always succeeded in leaving Jean +thoroughly vexed with him. She made speeches and drew statistics for +him, enough in strength and numbers to convert the traffic itself, and +was generally rewarded for her pains by an amused look and a +good-natured laugh. He seemed to her to be asleep, sound asleep; and try +as best she might, it seemed impossible to awaken him; and yet she +looked for his visits and enjoyed the task she had set herself about +more than she would have cared to admit. + +The fact was, Mr. Allison had been born asleep as far as his relation +with the liquor question was concerned. From his father he inherited his +interest in the business firm of which he was the junior member, and +having been brought up in this atmosphere, he neither knew nor cared for +any other. A man possessing even half a portion of real integrity is so +rarely found engaged in the liquor business that this man's character +was often spoken of. Whether he was honest may be doubted, but certain +it was, he was not bidding for the church vote by making promises and +prayers. Yet the cloak of respectability that he wore made him ten times +more dangerous than one of baser worth would have been; but his cloak, +it is well to remember, differed only in color from the cloak worn by +unnumbered men, to-day posing before a long-suffering people as +Christian leaders. + +In spite of the indifference of Mr. Allison and the vexation of Jean, +each felt the subtle power of attraction in the other that neither could +explain. + +One night when sitting closer than usual to her side, he calmly +possessed himself of one of her hands. + +"You are quite an enigma to me," he said. "How can you be a bit +comfortable in such close proximity to a representative of the ungodly +traffic?" + +"I cannot," she answered, pulling at her hand. "I will go away." + +"Will you?" and he tightened the pressure of his fingers. + +Jean dropped her head on her free hand and was very still. Mr. Allison, +watching her, presently saw a tear-drop on her cheek. + +He put his arm around her, and would have drawn her to him, but with a +firm, gentle touch, the meaning of which was unmistakable, she pushed +his arm aside, and, rising, stood before him. + +The faint trace of tears still marked her eyes, and her voice was a +trifle unsteady. + +"Mr. Allison, we cannot be even friends! We just cannot! You are a 'man +atom of the great iniquity.'" + +She crossed the room, and, raising a shade, stood looking absently into +the moonlight. Gilbert Allison leaned forward and seemed trying to +obtain the solution of some mystery from the outlines of her figure. + +She still stood there when Judge Thorn entered from an adjoining room, +and while he conversed with her liquor-dealer lover, Jean left the room +to return no more that night. + +But Mr. Allison was not thus to be disposed of. + +A few evenings passed, and he was again announced a visitor at the Thorn +home, and Jean appeared really very glad to see him, considering that +they were never to be friends. After a few moments of casual +conversation he took from his pocket an evening paper, folded so that +she could not miss the reading, and held it before her eyes. + +From the item thus displayed she learned that Gilbert Allison, late of +the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, had withdrawn his interest in the +firm to be placed in other investments. + +The conversation that followed the reading of this announcement, while +confidential, was not a long one, but at its close Gilbert Allison knew +more of that firmness born of a woman's conviction than he had ever +dreamed. + + * * * * * + +Judge Thorn looked comfortable in his leather chair, his slippered feet +on a hassock and a new book in his hand. At any rate, Jean thought so, +as she studied him from between the parted curtains, but she was +relentless. Stealing softly behind him, she pressed her hands over his +eyes. The judge started, and the young lady laughed merrily. + +Then she tried to steal away his book, but he held it. + +"Let me put it up, father, I want to talk to you." + +The judge still held the book. + +"Then I will say 'please.'" + +"Is it to be a political conversation?" he asked, gravely. + +"Not a breath of politics about it," she answered. + +"Any statistics to be brought in?" he questioned further. + +Jean laughed again. + +"Really, father," she said, "I think I may hope to win you yet. When a +judge, and a Republican at that, finds it hard to vindicate his party's +doings, and finds statistics overwhelmingly against his party's policy +on moral questions, he will look for better things in better places. At +this period of his political transmigration I believe a man is more to +be pitied for misplaced confidence than blamed for tardy understanding. +No, father, not a statistic to-night, unless you compel me to bring them +out in self-defense." + +Judge Thorn slowly released his book. + +"Now," said Jean triumphantly, "we are ready for a nice long talk, that +is, if you feel equal to the task of talking. What I have to say will +not take long. It is about a little interview between Mr. Allison +and--Judge Thorn's daughter, and if I had been less of a 'crank,' I +suppose you would have had another son-in-law in prospect." + +"Yes?" questioned the judge. "Then I have been mistaken when I have +thought at times that you cared for him." + +Jean remained silent a few minutes, then looked up quickly into her +father's face. + +"You are my best, my dearest friend, father. I will tell you truly. You +have not been mistaken. I love Gilbert Allison, and I cannot help it to +save my life." + +When Judge Thorn spoke again his voice had changed somewhat. He spoke as +if his words were escaping from beneath a weight. + +"Better than you do me, Jean?" + +She did not answer at once; then she caught her father's eye, and smiled +as she said: + +"You want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" + +"Go on," was the judge's quiet reply. + +"Then it is 'yes,' father." + +A shadow passed over the face of the judge for an instant that carried +Jean back to her childhood days, when she used to wonder, as she mused, +why it was that her father always looked so sad. + +"You have all the sweet ways of your mother, child," said the old man; +"and in you I know the traits and intellect that I had hoped to nurture +in the boy. For years you have been my comrade--my best loved daughter. +I am growing old, now, quite old, and you must leave me." + +As he spoke he ran his fingers through his hair, as if in its thinness +and fading color he could discern advancing years. + +Jean caught the hand that hung over the arm of the chair between her two +and pressed it to her cheek. + +"You make me happy, father!" she whispered. "Do you remember long ago I +told you that you would some day be glad I was your boy? And so you are. +Perhaps it is because I am so like you--I only wish I knew I was--or +perhaps I have always loved you best, and yet I have not loved you +enough, father." + +"Yes, child. Yes, enough to drive away a grief and make me happy." + +"Then, remember, father; remember always and forever, that I do not love +you any less. If I have come to love another more, I tell you truly, I +cannot help it. It has come to me--just come and--come and come; and I +have fought it every step of the way. A few times I have pictured to +myself such a man as I might some time call my husband. He has been +learned and clean and upright, with an irrepressible spirit of +patriotism, hindered by no party ties that bind to money instead of +moral questions; daunted by no fear, and bound by no memory of a past; +and the man has come, and he is--a gentlemanly liquor dealer. But I will +not leave you, father. I have no thought other than to stay here." + +This information did not seem to impress the judge. + +"You say so, Jean. You mean so; but you will be married, and a wife's +duties come before a daughter's." + +Jean laughed again. + +"You look almost as disconsolate as Mr. Allison did the last time I saw +him. Cheer up! I am not going to be married that I know of." + +"No?" + +"No, father." + +"Why, Jean?" + +"I see you know that Mr. Allison is a liquor dealer no longer, or you +would hardly ask." + +"I know. And I know that he sacrifices something in getting out of it at +this time. He is a clean man, and though his name has been connected +with the interest, that has been all. One could hardly imagine him +standing behind a bar." + +"He said something like that in his own defense. Let me see--he said the +national politics was the great mother of all lesser political plays, +and that at such elections he had cast his vote just as you and your +preacher have always done. Therefore, as you were temperance men, so he +was a temperance man. How was that for argument?" + +Judge Thorn laughed. + +"Well, I should not wonder if he were as much of a temperance man as +some other folks, after all." + +"The more shame for the 'other folks,'" said Jean, a touch of sternness +in her voice. + +"Have it that way if you wish, but to the original question. I am in no +hurry for you to marry, but I suppose you will some time, and Allison is +a square man. What he has done in this business move he has done not +because he has changed his views on some matters, but all for the love +of a woman, and that means much, my girl, these days of fortune hunters +and deceivers." + +"All for the love of a woman," Jean repeated softly to herself. "That is +what he said." + +They were both silent a few seconds. + +"You have not answered my question, Jean." + +"Ah! I forgot, father. You asked me why I could not promise to be the +wife of Mr. Allison. I will tell you, as I told him, and I think you +will understand as he did. + +"If I ever have a husband, he must do right from an honest conviction of +right, and because humanity and justice and God demand the right, and +never for the 'love of a woman,' although that is a beautiful +temptation." + +Judge Thorn looked inquiringly at his daughter, and she continued: + +"He was not prepared for this, I think, but he understood what I meant, +and said that I asked of him the impossible; that it was impossible for +him to see the liquor traffic in the light that I do. + +"But I am sure, father, that the underlying principle of my idea is +right, and God makes it possible for all men to see the right, if they +seek to." + +Jean had risen and stood before her father, her face aglow and her eyes +shining. + +This mood passed shortly, and she returned to her chair. She clasped her +hands behind her head and began again softly, as if speaking to herself: + +"And then--then he sat down in a chair by the window, with his face +turned away. It was very still in the room. + +"I went and stood close by his side, but I hardly dared to speak, it all +seemed so strange somehow. I wanted--Oh, you do not know how I longed to +throw myself into his arms, just to try to wake him; but you know +'propriety'. + +"After a time--perhaps an hour, perhaps a minute--he suddenly rose and +kissed me on the forehead. + +"'Goodby, dear,' he said, 'I think I had better not come any more,' and +he left the room without another word. + +"After the door had closed behind him and I heard him stepping down the +walk, I put both my hands over my heart, just so, and held it tight, for +it seemed that it would bound out and go with him." + +They sat in silence a little while after Jean ceased speaking, and then +she stepped behind her father's chair and dropped her arms around his +neck. + +"No, father, you shall never be left alone as long as this big world +holds Jean. Lonesomeness is so big and dreary!" + +She pressed her lips to his forehead and turned away. + +Had such a favor been meted out to the disconsolate Mr. Allison, he +would no doubt have been immediately transported to a state of unalloyed +happiness. Not so with the judge. The very act, the very words, told him +that the woman's affections had been divided, and the streak of +selfishness that runs through all humanity had not been overlooked in +his make-up. + +"Are you not really ashamed of me, father? Just think of it! Me, Jean +Thorn, of sound mind and adult years, falling in love with a liquor +dealer! It is too strange to believe, and yet I believe the situation +would be perfectly delightful if--if--well, if I were not 'my father's +boy.' But I will survive, let it be hoped, and if this maddening, +sickening, altogether unmanageable love one reads of had rushed upon me +like a whirlwind, it would be the same. The man I marry must not be a +'man atom of the great iniquity,' not even to the extent of his vote." + +And lest she should mar the impression she hoped to leave upon her +father, Jean hurried from the room, waving her hand to him as she passed +through the door. + + * * * * * + +In her own room she sat down to think. Mechanically she unbound the +coils of red-brown hair that crowned her head, and holding the quaintly +carved silver pins which seemed a part of her identity in her hand, she +began a march to and fro across the room. There was no smile on her +face, rather a pained, unnatural look that her dearest friend would not +have recognized. Presently she stopped. + +Raising her hands, the shining hair rippling over her shoulders like a +garment, she lifted her face heavenward. + +"My Father!" she whispered, brokenly, "he is asleep. Touch his eyes with +kindly fingers that the scales may drop away. Put the hollow of thy hand +around his heart and kindle there the love that means the brotherhood of +man, for I love him--I love him!" + +Even as she stood, with her face upturned from the wealth of flowing +hair, the man of her prayer was in the toils of fate, seeing a "face" +and hearing a voice that touched his ear and clung to his heart, "like +the wail of a lost soul." + +[Illustration: _"God," she cried, "Look at my hands!"_] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"WHAT FOR." + + +Had Jean Thorn been less interested in the family of Damon Crowley she +might have thought it impossible to keep track of them as they moved +about. Mr. Crowley reformed every time he got drunk, and got drunk every +time he reformed. At such times he made the living place he called home, +whether in the filthy garret or rickety shanty, a bedlam. At the present +period of their existence the Crowleys were living in a forlorn hovel on +the outskirts of the city. + +Mr. Crowley thought himself lucky if he chanced to be about when one of +Miss Thorn's visits took place, for she paid well for the plain work +Mrs. Crowley did, and he always came in for a share. The time had been +when this man would have blushed at the thought of asking his wife, or, +indeed, any one, for help, but that time had gradually gone by as his +manhood dissolved itself in drink. Now he could whine and beg and, not +being successful that way, curse and beat to gain his end. He wanted +money for whisky worse than ever now, and had less, but the burning in +his stomach grew no less to suit the impoverished condition of his +purse. + +The disease caused by the legalized drink traffic was eating his life +away little by little, and as the fire burned it called for more fuel. + +One night when every little gland and fibre in his whole being and all +the great ulcers in his diseased stomach seemed like fierce flames +cutting and licking and torturing him, half-drunk, he staggered from one +grog shop to another, begging for something to drink. + +He had hung around the shanty home until he was almost sure that Miss +Thorn would not come, then had started out to try his chances. He had +begged a little, had pawned a garment belonging to another for a little +more, and yet the maddening thirst was not quenched. + +It was growing late. He made a circuit of his old haunts, but it was +useless--no money, no drink. For his pleading he was mocked. For his +curses he was struck and put out. He staggered toward home, the stinging +fire within him quickening his pace. One hope remained. Perhaps Miss +Thorn had been there after he had gone. Perhaps, hidden away in the +little box, he might find a few pennies--enough for this time. + +The houses that he passed were for the most part dark, except where some +low place cast its straggling light into the night. He hurried on, +stumbling now and then. No time could be more suitable for him. He would +find the family, what there was left of it, asleep. He would sneak in +like a cat and find the box--perhaps the pennies. He rubbed his hot +hands nervously together in anticipation. + +It was not difficult to get into the house, and he found it still and +dark. Cautiously he tiptoed to the window and ran his fingers over the +casing above it. Nothing but dust. Next he tried the hole in the +chimney. Here his unsteady fingers grasped something he thought to be +the box, but it proved to be only a loose brick. Growing impatient, he +went to the cupboard and fumbled in the corner. No box. He was getting +reckless now. Taking a match from his pocket he drew it across the wall. +It sputtered and cast a ray long enough for him to find the lamp, which +he lit. + +The little boy Johnnie, in a bed close by, stirred slightly, rolled over +a couple of times, and sat up in bed and opened his eyes. Mr. Crowley, +having lost all control of himself, was noisily peering into every nook +and cranny. As the father moved nearer, the boy crept closer to his +mother, and, huddling by her side, began to cry. It was when he heard +the boy's cry that the fire within him licked up the last of his manhood +and the Devil had full sway. He set the lamp down with a bang and sprang +toward the bed. The boy threw his arms around his mother and gave a cry +of terror. + +"Mamma! O mamma! Hold me tight! Don't let him get me! O mamma! mamma! +mamma!" The mother held the child close, but the man had seized him. + +They struggled for a minute--a madman's strength and a devil's cunning +against a mother's love--unequal struggle! + +The man--a demon now--had the child. + +He cast his eye around the room and picked up a knotty piece of wood. +The boy pulled frantically back toward his mother, trembling and +screaming, but the die was cast. + +A volley of oaths burst from the drunken fiend's lips. + +"Not much this time! No help now, till I'm done with you. Damn you! +Stand up," and he gave the boy a blow that caused him to twist with +pain, but he steadied his voice to ask: + +"What for, papa? What for?" But the words were lost in screams, for the +blows kept falling. + +Mrs. Crowley rushed up and caught his uplifted arm. + +"You will kill the child! You are mad. Help! Somebody help!" she cried; +but no help came. Drunken rows are a part of our civilization. + +The boy had succeeded in getting away, but the unequal struggle was soon +at an end, and Mrs. Crowley was struck to the floor by a heavy blow. + +The father dragged the terror-stricken little fellow from behind the +bed. + +"Come! Damn you! I'm not done yet! I'll teach you to be scared of your +dad and to yell like an idiot when I come into my own house," and the +blows fell rapidly. + +On the little hands when they were raised to protect the head, on the +head when the hands dropped down in pain, on the legs when the body +twisted in agony, on the back when the body bent to shield the legs, and +the childish voice broke through the screams at intervals: + +"What for? Oh, what for?" + +Mrs. Crowley looked around the room for something with which to fight +the man. She seized an iron frying-pan and struck him with all the force +she could summon, but the blow was insufficient. + +He loosed the child only long enough to push his wife violently to the +wall and choke her until she gasped and grew dizzy, adding a couple of +blows as a finishing touch, and after tossing her weapon from the window +again turned his attention to the child. + +"Not done yet! No! Not done! Take this--and this--and this," and heavy +blows sounded. + +"Oh, papa! tell me what for, and I'll never, never do it any more. +Please, papa, what for?" and the child raised his terror-stricken face +to his father's, but the brute struck the little upturned face. + +"No--you won't do it again when I get done. I'm not done yet. Not done." + +Mrs. Crowley again sprang upon the madman, and, drawing her fingers +tightly around his neck, threw her whole force into the grasp, but he +loosened it. Then he kicked her out the door and bolted it fast. + +The child had fallen to the floor, but partly arose as the father +returned. + +"Not done yet--no--not done," and he struck the poor, bleeding body many +blows. + +The boy sank back on the floor. His screams were ended; but as he lay +there he still moaned, "What for?" + +Then the moaning ceased, the eyelids quivered and the breath grew faint. + +But even then his father had not exercised enough of his "personal +liberty." The imps of hell hissed him on. The torturing fire within him +leaped higher and higher, searing his soul. He bent low over the body +and beat it still, till the tender bones crushed under the blows. Then +throwing the knotty stick, quivering with his own child's blood, into a +corner, with a fearful scream the murderer dashed out into the night. + +Then the mother crept back, but it was too late. The little life had +gone. From somewhere out of the mysterious, breezy night, perhaps, the +spirit of Maggie had come, and had taken the soul of her poor brother to +a city where pain and tears are unknown. + +But another voice had been added to the chorus of suffering children as +by the million they cry out in their pain till the appeal of outraged +childhood goes thundering and reverberating into the ear of the Almighty +Father, while he writes the "What for" of their wailing protest in the +book of his remembrance as the record unto the day of Christian +America's reckoning, in letters that burn brighter as the curse waxes +worse and worse. + +Against the name of the church, too, as she wraps her righteous robes +around herself and will not, in her dignity and purity, set her mighty +foot on the neck of the curse, while drunkards by unnumbered thousands +stagger under her colored glass windows to Hell, he writes WHAT FOR? and +the letters burn on. + +Against the name of the Christian whose vote makes strong the party that +legalizes the saloon and the drunkard he writes "WHAT FOR?" + +What man shall stand in the presence of the Holy One, when the books are +opened, and tell WHAT FOR? + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GILBERT ALLISON HEARS A VOICE. + + +It was this night that two travelers were journeying across a bit of +suburban country toward their city homes. They were out later than they +had expected to be, perhaps. At any rate, it was somewhere close to the +hour of midnight and they were approaching an old graveyard. + +As they neared the ancient burying ground Mr. Allison, for he was one of +the riders, became less talkative, and rode closer to his friend, a +young man of about his own age. + +"Hist, Sammy! Didn't you hear something? Ah! Now it has gone again. You +were not quick enough. Keep your ear open. At the turning of the wind it +may come again." + +"Well, by grabs! Gillie, where will you end?" laughed the other. "First +love, now ghosts. Listening for spooks because we happen to be passing +the burying spot of some of our ancestors. Allow me to alight and pick a +switch for the poor boy to defend himself with when the ghosts set upon +him." + +"Sammie! Sammie! I hear it again! It's coming on the breeze. Listen +now!" + +Gilbert Allison stopped his horse and leaned eagerly forward. Sammie +listened, but was again too late. The dead leaves rustled close by over +the sunken graves; the tall, bare trees waved their skeleton arms, while +the breeze died away to a long, weary sigh and was gone. + +"It does not come from the cemetery, Sammie, but from beyond. Perhaps it +will come again. Listen!" + +The breeze was coming to them again, and they drew their horses to a +halt. + +"There, Sammie! You did not miss that, did you?" + +They listened a moment longer, but the breeze was dying away and with it +the cry, whatever it was. + +"The Dickens! Allison, let us hurry on. This is too ghostly a night to +tarry. That cry gives me an uneasy feeling to the marrow of my bones." + +They quickened their pace, and rode some distance in silence. The sky +seemed growing darker and the wind was rising. A thick clump of trees +hard by cast a gloomy shadow across the road, and just as they passed +into this the floating clouds covered the face of the moon, and they +were in pitchy darkness. + +Suddenly there burst into the black night from somewhere in front of +them a most unearthly yell. + +Allison's horse quivered and Sammie's gave a violent lurch. + +"Heavens, Sammie! What was that?" + +"Blast the moon!" ejaculated Sammie. "Ride close to the side of the +road. It was near here." + +They had passed the clump of trees, but were still in the dark. All was +still save the tiresome moaning of the trees. Then they heard the rapid +approach of some man or beast, and the next instant, directly at their +sides, there went out onto the night air a succession of blood-curdling +yells and barks. + +The horses sprang and danced. + +The moon came out, and in its pale yellow light they saw the creature +disappearing down the road. It was the figure of a man, crouching and +springing, rather than walking. As he neared the clump of trees he made +the night shudder with still wilder and fiercer screams. Then he +disappeared down the shadowy road. + +"A madman!" said Allison. "Heavens! What couldn't he do to a fellow if +he had him to himself?" + +Sammie laughed nervously. + +"His boots are full of snakes, if I am not mistaken--but truly a bad +fellow. He must have been what we heard back by the cemetery." + +"No. Not such a noise as that. That was a wailing cry. Perhaps--he +surely cannot have had his hand on any human being. Let us hurry on. The +devil must be hereabouts to-night." + +The suburbs seemed again to be asleep. The wind came and went over the +rickety homes, sparsely scattered, and its moaning was made more dismal +by the long-drawn out howl of some sleepless cur. + +At rare intervals a light gleamed from a window. + +One window from which a light shone Gilbert Allison and his friend +looked into that night, and somehow that window remained always open in +the memory of each, with a bright light burning behind it. + +It was a dreary little structure that stood close to the roadside, quite +alone. The window was only a square hole, and the feeble light inside +flickered as the wind blew through. There had been glass there once, no +doubt, but that glass and many other cheap glass windows had gone into a +better, richer piece of glass, and that hung in a respectable saloon. + +Reflecting the decanters and red noses--and broken hearts? No! Ah, no! +Their reflection would have injured the trade. They remained where the +cheap glass had once been, and it was one of these hearts that Gilbert +Allison, late of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, caught a glimpse of +as he paused at the open window. + +A woman sat on the floor in the middle of the room. + +A woman of petrified misery. She gazed beyond the surrounding walls into +the happy past, the mournful future--into Heaven and Hell, or somewhere. + +Close by her side lay the still warm body of the boy. She placed her +hands over his face, and, feeling the warmth, opened the tattered, +bloody little night-dress and pressed her ear over the heart--pressed it +closer and closer, but the heart was still. + +She did not cry, this woman. Why should she? She knew the child was +better off. She lifted a corner of her garment and wiped the thick blood +from the face, then she pressed her lips to the lips, the cheeks, the +forehead, in long, loving, mother kisses. She drooped her head close +over the childish body, and drawing the soft arms around her neck held +them there. She stroked back the hair, and her hands were bloodstained. + +Resting the child's body tenderly on the hard floor, she raised her face +of misery and her bloodstained hands toward Heaven. + +"God!" she cried. "Look at my hands! See God! Here it is--my baby's +blood. Come, God, and see my boy. He's getting stiff--but come, +God--come! See the bruises and the blood! See the face--the little face, +all full of pain and fear--and feel the crushed bones, God! He is +getting cold--cold--cold! The boy's dead!" + +She caught up one of the child's hands and pressed it convulsively. +After a moment's silence she began again, suddenly, fiercely: + +"Is there any God? Where is he? Where does he stay? Not with Christians. +They have the power, if God were with them, to stop the curse. No, not +with them. They do not stop it. No. They license it, they do. 'Woe, woe +to him that puts the bottle to his neighbor's lips.' They do! They do! +But God must be somewhere. God come out of somewhere!" + +The wind blew and the light flickered. Allison and Sammie, looking in, +seemed riveted to the spot. It was not a pleasant picture, yet they +gazed. + +"My husband a murderer!" wailed the woman. "The boy's blood on his +hands? Lord God! I never want to see his face again! Have mercy on his +soul! Perhaps he cannot help it now--he is a madman. Love him if you +can--I loved him once." + +Something like a sob sounded in the woman's voice, but she choked it +back. After a moment of silence she moved a short distance from the +little corpse, and, raising herself upright on her knees, with her hands +clasped at arm's length over her head, she prayed. + +It was not a Christlike prayer--rather the helpless cry of a soul +tortured, in the grasp of a Christianized sin. + +"Lord God! Down deep in Hell--away down--down where the fire is hottest, +and the black blackest, and the smoke thickest, there let the man be +bound forever who covers the business of Hell with a respectable +covering. There forever let him see my boy's piteous, quivering face; +let him hear the dying moan and see the red blood! I know them, God! You +know them, God--you know them! Hear my prayer!" + +Another gust of wind came, nearer and stronger, and the lamp flickered +out. It was quiet. Very quiet. So quiet that Allison and Sammie heard +the sigh that escaped the woman's lips. It was a heavy sigh, filled with +tears and utter despair. + +A sigh that went farther than all the sighing winds had ever gone. A +sigh that was wafted far above to the great God who keeps record of the +sighs that come up from the hearts of a million drunkards' wives, and +who writes on the balance-sheet: "Vengeance is mine. I will repay." + +Some people, one of them an officer, entered the house from the opposite +side, and the two travelers, seeing no need for their services, turned +away and mounted their horses. + +Mr. Allison was somewhat excited. + +"Hanging is too good for that brute!" he said, loudly. "I believe I +could stand by and see him roast. Heavens, what a devil! Poor woman, I +wish I had not stopped there to-night." + +Sammie grunted. "Thinking of the place she referred to as the +respectable dealer's future headquarters?" he questioned. + +"Shut up, will you! This is no time for joking!" + +The young man complied with the request of his polite friend, and +thought to himself, but Mr. Allison was no better pleased. He knew that +if he had not seen it, it would have been. It really was. He was deeply +stirred. And as he rode on through the night he was thinking new and +strange thoughts. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"THE SIN BURDEN." + + +After Gilbert Allison arrived home from that ride, the ghostly night on +which he saw the fruits of a sinful traffic in all its horror, he +hastily disrobed and turned into bed, hoping to sleep away the +unpleasant thoughts and pictures that had possession of his mind; but no +sooner had sleep overtaken him than a face, framed in a halo of +red-brown hair, looked down upon him from an eminence; a white hand with +a phosphorescent glow pointed at him, while a voice kept repeating, to +the accompaniment of a childish wail, "Man--atom of the great iniquity, +man--atom of the great iniquity." + +In his dream he did not recognize the face nor voice, and yet both +seemed strangely familiar to him. + +When daylight came, the face and the white hand and the moaning child +went away and the face of the woman whose misery he had looked upon +haunted him, and her bitter prayer came to him in snatches. + +The experience was distressing in no small degree to the ease-loving +man. He could not analyze his feelings and was not aware that what one +strange little woman called a "sin burden" had fallen with its weight +upon him. He was in the act of rubbing his eyes before his moral +resurrection. + + * * * * * + +Damon Crowley was behind the bars for the last time. Perhaps he did not +know, at any rate he did not care. He had reached the beginning of the +end. + +From the corners of his cell dark faces leered at him; cruel, sharp +claws closed around his limbs and icy fingers grasped his throat--yet he +was not dead. Outlines of things he saw became to him living creatures +of destruction and crouched over him, grinning in his face and tearing +him to bits--yet he was not dead. Snarling beasts sank their fangs into +his flesh, a thousand poison insects rushed and swarmed upon him, and he +felt the virus of their sting bounding through his body--yet he lived. + +Slimy serpents wriggled over him, thrusting their forked tongues into +his nose and ears, and when he grabbed frantically to tear them away +they had gone. + +A fire burned within him and he tore his flesh and hair, while death +like a dark shadow hovered nearer and nearer, closing in slowly but +surely. The end of Damon Crowley was not as a child falls to sleep nor +as a Christian steps into the great beyond. + +It was a time of screams and groans; of frantic clutchings and hard +grapplings. Those in neighboring cells were glad for once that the walls +were thick and the bolts secure. + + * * * * * + +Gilbert Allison imagined he would feel better when he knew that Damon +Crowley was securely lodged under lock and key; but such was not the +case. The knowledge of this only seemed to press some real or imaginary +burden closer to him. Then he imagined that he would perhaps feel at +peace with the world and himself when white-robed justice had had her +perfect course, and the victim of a nation's sin had been hung by the +neck until dead. But even the news of the tragic death of the murderer +did not prove a cure for his nameless and indefinable ill-feeling. + +Then it occurred to him that perhaps his name had not been taken from +over the doors of the establishment of which he had so long been a part. +Being fully resolved to completely sever his connection with the +business, he looked upon this as a necessary step, and not without some +small hope that it might help a little toward restoring his upset +conscience. + +Turning a corner, he raised his eyes. There, in the glow of the full +sunlight, blazed the richly-wrought words, "Allison, Russell & Joy." +They looked positively ugly to him and he felt that he had been injured +by the other members of the firm. Entering the establishment to request +that the sign be altered he came upon a trio discussing trade items, and +the old familiar phraseology fell upon his ears like jangling voices. + +As he passed out an old customer slapped him familiarly on the back and +asked after business. Hardly had he escaped this one before another +grasped his hand and inquired in jovial manner how times were. Then a +drummer approached him, and, on being informed that he was no longer +connected with the trade interests, assured him that the trade had +suffered a loss. As he halted a moment in front of a hotel, a +half-intoxicated man with a tale of woe, because of having been ordered +out of the palatial sample room of the late liquor dealer, drew some +attention to him and increased his feeling of disquiet and irritability. + +Each time he informed his assailant that he had severed his connection +with the business, but it was not until the red-headed proprietor of a +groggery drew nigh with a grievance, that the last straw had been put +upon his already overtaxed nerves and conscience. + +With more than the necessary amount of vigor he declared himself +innocent of the business and dropped remarks relative to groggeries that +would have delighted the ear of a temperance lecturer. + +After this series of unpleasant encounters Gilbert Allison betook +himself to the office of his friend, Dr. Samuel Thomas, the companion of +his memorable ride, for advisement. + +Entering the room without previous announcement, he dropped his hat onto +a promiscuous pile of books and papers and spread himself on the couch. +Here, with his hands clasped under his head, he studied the pattern of +the ceiling paper a few seconds before venturing a remark. + +Dr. Sammie, used to moods and fancies, waited. + +"Would you do anything for a friend in need, Sammie?" asked the visitor +at length, with a strong emphasis upon the "anything." + +"To be sure. Speak out." + +"Then laugh." + +"Laugh?" + +"Yes, laugh." + +"Laugh? What about?" + +"Anything or nothing--but laugh. I have not heard a suspicion of a laugh +in weeks. I have been prowling around in a valley of dry bones, and to +save my soul I cannot find my way out. I thought I had just begun the +ascent of a slope where smiles are occasionally seen, when the hope was +shattered by the vulgar familiarity of a mob belonging to the trade." + +Dr. Sammie listened to the rather unusual remarks of his friend, and as +he recounted the day's experiences in his own original way the amused +look on his face drew itself into definite shape around his mouth, and, +when Allison had delivered himself of something unusual in the way of a +tirade on dive-keepers, the climax had been reached, and the listener +rested his head against the back of his chair and laughed in a manner +sufficiently hearty to have satisfied the request of his friend. + +"Soured on the fraternity, have you?" he asked. + +Gilbert Allison slowly raised himself to a sitting posture and, with an +elbow resting on either knee, transferred his study from the ceiling +pattern to that of the carpet. He did not answer the question. + +"Crowley died," he at length observed. + +"Yes--and I should think you would be the man to be glad. I imagine the +after feeling must be anything but pleasant when one has for years +helped fit a fellow creature for the gallows." + +Gilbert Allison frowned between his hands and spoke sharply. + +"It is a legal business," he said. + +"Legal? Yes, legal--but you have sense enough to know that if it is +legal for you to sell, it must be legal for some other fellow to buy; +and if some other fellow spends his money for liquor he had the right to +drink it, and you can hardly be unreasonable enough to hold a man +responsible for what he does when the lining has been eaten out of his +stomach and his brain soaked with alcohol. Such a man is a legal +murderer, and the custom that breeds him should take care of the +finished production. + +"Mind you, I am not giving a temperance lecture; that is out of my line. +But it has always seemed to me to be a rotten sort of justice that hangs +a man for doing what the government gives him a license to do." + +Mr. Allison looked up suddenly. + +"Do you suppose, Sammie, that Deacon Brown knows the Traffic as it +is--as we have seen it?" + +"His church machinery grinds out resolutions annually of such a warlike +nature that I am inclined to believe he does," said the doctor grimly. + +"He has been in every political caucus that I have, for the last five +years and has voted as I have from constable to President. I have voted +for the interests of the Trade. What has he been voting for?" demanded +Allison. + +"I'll give it up," said Sammie, dusting the ashes from the end of his +cigar; "but the Lord have mercy on his brains if he thinks it has been +for 'temperance and morality.'" + +Gilbert Allison arose and began a measured tread up and down the room. + +"Laugh some more, Sammie! I have not yet recovered my normal condition. +I had as soon be dead as morbid. Laugh. Perhaps it will prove +infectious." + +"I prefer to diagnose my case before applying a remedy," said the +doctor. "Tell me your symptoms. What ails you?" + +"I am in a dilemma, Sammie--a dilemma. Tell me--will it be necessary for +me to wear a staring placard on my back the rest of my mortal days in +order that people may know I have everlastingly severed my connection +with the liquor business?" + +Dr. Sammie was obliging enough to favor his guest with another hearty +laugh. Then he blew two clouds of smoke over his head and watched it +curl itself away around the chandelier, for notwithstanding the fact +that he knew, or should have known, the effects of nicotine on the human +system, this aspiring young member of the medical profession wasted +money and nerve force in his slavery to a habit. + +"I tell you, my friend," he said, with an air of confidence, "there are +a set of people in the world--mind you, I do not say that they are +wise--who would tell you that by casting a single vote in a certain way +you would stamp yourself as the vile opponent of the Trade's interests +'forevermore, amen!'" + +Gilbert Allison paused in his walk and looked into his friend's face a +second. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and immediately he found +himself in the midst of a ringing laugh peculiar to one who has broken +through the meshes of a dilemma and finds himself free. + +"The best speech of your life, Sammie! Thank you!" and hastily donning +his hat he left the room without further comment. + +Dr. Sammie smiled when the door closed behind his friend. He had an idea +whither his way tended. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AN AWAKENING. + + +Judge Thorn sat looking over the evening paper. + +Lost in her own thoughts, Jean sat in the shadow of a palm idly +thrumming a guitar, the soft pliant strains corresponding well with the +expression of her face. + +A sudden exclamation from her father caused her to look up. + +His profile alone was visible to her, but there is an expression in +outlines when one understands the subject, and she knew that something +of an unusually puzzling or distressing nature engaged him. + +Eagerly watching, she played on softly. + +Presently the judge crushed the paper into a ball and with another +exclamation of disgust threw it across the room where it rolled behind a +scrap basket under a desk. At sight of so uncommon a procedure Jean went +to her father's side. + +"What news, father mine? What news?" she asked. + +Judge Thorn pointed in the direction of the wadded paper. + +"Jean," said he, solemnly, "you remember how proudly I boasted to you +when Congress prohibited that blackest disgrace of our army, the +liquor-selling canteen. You know how deeply I felt the shame and +disgrace upon the whole legal profession when an officer of the cabinet +perpetrated the outrage that thwarted the will of the sovereign people. +Jean, girl, in a long life of close contact with the nation's politics I +have never met anything that has so deeply tried my loyalty to the party +in which I have helped to work out the political problems of almost half +a century as did that act that, as a life-long student of law, I +recognized as a fraud. + +"But I have bolstered my shattered faith in the party with my absolute +confidence in the President. I have refused to believe--to this very +hour I have refused to believe that the man whose magnificent career I +have watched with such interest and of whose stainless honor I have been +so proud, would consent to be a party to such an act of anarchy. I have +insisted, as you well know, stoutly holding my position though the long +delay has made me sick at heart, that when the long routine of official +red tape had at length unrolled itself and the case should finally come +to the President, justice would be done and the nation's honor +vindicated. + +"Now, look there!" + +And with hands that trembled with suppressed anger the old jurist +unfolded the crumpled paper, which Jean had recovered, and pointed out +the telegraphic report that told how another high official of the +President's official family had disgraced himself, his profession and +the administration by the formal declaration that he accepted the +historic Griggs infamy as a correct interpretation of law. + +"Jean, my child, spare me. Say nothing now, child. I can not bear it. +The faith of a lifetime is shattered. On that page I read, plainly as if +it were printed there, that the President is a party to the infamy. The +party of my lifelong loyalty stands committed by the act of its chosen +leaders to the foulest anarchy that ever disgraced a civilized people. +Had I no thought for temperance, as a citizen and as a lawyer, I could +not otherwise than see in this the forerunner of the gravest national +disaster." + +The young woman listened with an expression in which deepest scorn for +the treason done was mingled with tender pity for the stricken man at +her side. Sharp, cutting words crowded to her lips for a final argument, +but her love for her father checked them. + +Just then, in the silence, a step was heard approaching the house. In a +twinkling the canteen outrage slipped from the mind of the girl, for the +step was one whose echo had made indelible prints on her heart and whose +owner she had been many times heartsick to see. + +She had hardly time to wonder what brought him at an hour long past the +usual time for making calls before he was with them. + +When he had been informed by the judge of the latest chapter in the +history of the canteen outrage, Mr. Allison laughed heartily. + +"What have you been voting for the last ten years, Judge," he asked. + +"Not for the canteen," the older man answered warmly. + +"I have, and for every other measure conducive to the best interests of +the trade--and we have voted the same ticket to a dot." + +Finding the judge rather indisposed to talk just then the young man +turned to his hostess. + +"I am on a quest," he said. "Tell me of some one possessed of enough +knowledge of human nature to recommend a course that will square me with +an unruly conscience and--a woman." + +"My father is a legal light, ask him. He needs diversion now, I think," +and Jean smiled at sight of his perplexed face. + +"His specialty has not been 'man atoms of a great iniquity,'" said +Allison with a smile that hardly concealed his anxiety. "Tell me, what +would you do if you had been a 'man-atom,' had grown disgusted with the +mother mass and wished to completely sever your connection with it +before God and man?" + +"You mean if I were a man? Well, first I would ask the Lord to forgive +me for ever having been a 'man-atom.'" + +"I have been duly penitent," assented the questioner. + +"Then I would buy some paper--a quantity of it--and I would write yards +and yards of resolutions stating that 'it can never be legalized without +sin.'" + +"And then?" + +"Then I should pray a whole lot--and pursue the even tenor of my way; +and if my conscience should assert itself in the face of all this, I +should think it too cranky a conscience to be humored." + +"What about the woman?" + +Jean smiled. + +"Woman? Women," she said, "have notions. To save their lives they cannot +see the use in wasting paper and prayers. They would DO something. +Women--some women--believe in standing right with God and conscience +though the heavens fall." + +"So do some men," said Allison, gravely. + +Jean started slightly. The tone of his voice, the look of his eye, +conveyed to her the knowledge that somewhere, somehow, since she had +seen him last he had been awakened. + +Involuntarily she clasped her hands and in the passing glance she gave +him Gilbert Allison caught a glimpse of the heaven that orthodox people +say follows the resurrection of the just. + +Judge Thorn roused himself from the spell that had been cast over him by +the news in the crumpled paper. + +A second time he took it in his hands and slowly, solemnly crushed it. + +"The rank and file, the men whose honesty and virtue have made the +party great," he said, "have been defrauded, outraged. My support of the +administration and of the party of my political life is forever ended +unless it reclaim the right to a decent man's support." + +While her father talked, Jean, lest in the first moments of her +delightful discovery she should clap her hands or cry or dance or in +some other unconventional way outrage grave decorum, returned to her +seat and her guitar. + +The fringed palm threw long jagged shadows over her dress and stretched +away to meet the firelight dancing on the hearth-rug. + +The mingled tones of the two voices reached her ear, but she heard them +indistinctly. To the soft strains that answered the strokes of her +fingers, she kept repeating over and over to herself, "He is awake, he +is awake." + +Presently she heard her father leave the room. + +Then her heart began to whirl and beat in a way unknown to her before. +She caught the faint chime of a distant steeple bell and the notes of +the low music died away to a plaintive breathing as she counted the +strokes, for she knew the fateful hour of her life was at hand. + +Just as the last stroke quivered out onto the new hour, he came. He sat +down beside her and putting aside the guitar, drew her close to him. + +"You are awake," she said softly, as if half afraid of breaking some +magic spell. "Tell me about it." + +He dropped his hand over one of hers and described the tragedy of the +victims of the "great iniquity" that he had seen on that eventful night. + +When he spoke of the murdered child he felt her hand clinch in his and +when he told of the prayer consigning the "respectable" dealer to the +place prepared for Satan and his earthly henchmen, involuntarily she +would have drawn away from him, but his arm bound her like a band of +steel. + +"A tortured face--a bitter prayer--a bloody tragedy--ugly instruments; +but in the hands of the Divinity that smooths out man's rough hewing +they have cut away the last outline of a 'man-atom.' Are you glad? Has +fate fashioned me to the satisfaction of one peerless, priceless woman?" + +For one moment Jean hesitated. Then---- + +But what business is that of ours? Our story has been of the daughter of +a Republican, and the young woman whose face is hidden upon the shoulder +of Gilbert Allison, once rum-seller, now by God's grace Prohibitionist, +is no longer the daughter of a Republican; for Judge Thorn's resolution, +slow formed, is as unbreakable as nature's laws. + + + + +THE END. + + + + +Section 17 of the Army Act, passed by Congress March 2, 1899, reads: + + +"That no officer or private soldier shall be detailed to sell +intoxicating drinks as a bartender or otherwise, in any post exchange or +canteen, nor shall any other person be required or allowed to sell such +liquor in any encampment or fort, or on any premises used for military +purposes by the United States; and the Secretary of War is hereby +directed to issue such general order as may be necessary to carry the +provisions of this section into full force and effect." + +After vainly trying to find some other method of evading the law, +Secretary Alger, then the head of the War Department, obtained from +Attorney-General Griggs the opinion that the army saloon, known as the +canteen, could run as usual if only the bartenders were not soldiers. +Griggs said: + +"The designation of one class of individuals as forbidden to do a +certain thing raises a just inference that all other classes not +mentioned are not forbidden. A declaration that soldiers shall not be +detailed to sell intoxicating drinks in post exchanges necessarily +implies that such sale is not unlawful when conducted by others than +soldiers.... The act having forbidden the employment of soldiers as +bartenders or salesmen of intoxicating drinks, it would be lawful and +appropriate for the managers of the post exchanges to employ civilians +for that purpose. Of course, employment is a matter of contract, and not +of requirement or permission." + +This opinion, pronounced anarchy by every judge and every lawyer, +outside of the President's Cabinet, that has spoken upon it, is upheld +by Secretary Root, the new head of the War Department; and by President +McKinley. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Daughter of a Republican, by Bernie Babcock + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DAUGHTER OF A REPUBLICAN *** + +***** This file should be named 31493.txt or 31493.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/9/31493/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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