[Illustration: LENA JANE FRY.]
OTHER WORLDS
A Story Concerning the Wealth Earned by American Citizens and Showing
How It Can Be Secured to Them Instead of to the Trusts
By LENA JANE FRY
CHICAGO:
LENA JANE FRY, Publisher
1905
Copyright 1905
BY LENA JANE FRY
CHICAGO, ILL.
[Illustration: 156]
THIS BOOK
IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED
TO
THREE OF AMERICA’S
BEST DAUGHTERS,
NENA N., BERTHA J., AND
KATHLEEN E. FRY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE WEALTH PRODUCING AND DISTRIBUTING SOCIETY.
THE PLANET VENUS. SECOND STORY.
WE ARE GOING TO BE INSPECTED.
INTRODUCTION.
In introducing myself to my readers I believe I can do no better than to
insert the following clipping, taken from a recent newspaper; for I am
answering the cry that is going out to those who are able to work out
the problem, of finding employment for willing hands to do:
“THE RIGHT TO WORK.”
Is there such a thing as the “right to work?” If so, why isn’t it
enforced on behalf of the great army of unemployed?
It does seem that there should be something for every willing pair
of hands in this great country to do. We have unbounded, unmeasured
natural resources. We have billions of idle wealth. Ought we not to
have wisdom enough to bring the idle wealth and natural
opportunities and the idle hands together?
Think of the suffering women and children who are cold and hungry
because the husband and father cannot find work for his willing
hands.
Think of this, you well-to-do, you statesman; yes, and you
workingman.
Here is a black, horrid blemish on the Christian civilization of the
Twentieth Century. To wipe it out is a work far grander in the
possibilities of its results than to construct wonderful subways,
build libraries and monuments or to perform any of the wonderful
things of which we boast.
And, bear this in mind, if every man will do his duty by his fellow
man, the time will come when the piteous cry, “I cannot find work,”
will be heard no more in this fair land.
You will see, as you read this book, that I believe—as do many
others—that there are other worlds that are inhabited, as well as this;
but that is not the point after all. This is a story taken from every
day life as it is. Many events will be recognized, though no real
characters have been given.
If my ideas are carried out, it means freedom to the oppressed. It means
wealth for all industrious people, in fact, the society I picture in
these pages will be able to confer not only wealth but honors upon all
deserving members. All thinking people know that we are in the midst of
the most awful crisis that this world has ever known; that the Trusts
have us hemmed in on all sides, that we seem to be helpless. I say “seem
to be,” for we are not helpless, only stunned by the immense power which
money has enabled the Trusts to use against us in taxing our
necessities.
I have written this book believing I could give some practical ideas
that will help to win the battle that is going against us as a people.
The Trusts are not our enemies in reality; they are only the whips that
have been used to draw us into line and show us how to manage our
affairs as a Nation instead of in the individual way, with its wasteful
competition.
In all the ages past, when nations were menaced, a leader came to their
aid; but in this age we need many leaders along many lines to take hold,
for all people have been guilty of a crime that few even know was a
crime.
It was money that gave the Trusts their power over us, and it was money
that has been the root of evil in all the ages. It is hard to know when
it was established as the world’s idol, but as an Idol it rules the
virtuous as well as the depraved. “Thou shalt have none other gods
before Me,” the Lord of Heaven has said. Down with the money Idol, or
destruction shall fall on your head, we say as we look around and see
the consequences of its power. It rules our lives, and is it necessary
after all? is the subject upon which I have written.
I believe in justice to all, and I have written this book because I have
something to say in it that will help to bring prosperity for all.
I have done my best, and, if I have not done the best that can be done,
my only wish is that others will take up the ideas I have given here,
until all humanity can clasp hands and say: Thank the good power of
united action that has shown us how to secure homes and our necessities
independent of the money powers.
May all who read it, choose evolution and safety and not wait for war
and its attending calamities that the money rulers are bringing, is my
greatest wish.
HOW I HAPPENED TO WRITE “OTHER WORLDS.”
[Illustration]
’Twas evening. I was sitting in my parlor alone in the home, not a soul
was near.
A strike was in full blast and had been for a year.
Lives had been lost and mourners would weep
As funerals passed slowly down the street.
Watching at the window as a procession passed,
Mentally I asked the question: how long O God! how long shall this thing
last?
Is the Idol of the Nation—aye, the Idol of the earth—
That thing, that is called money;—oh—is it of greater worth
Than the creatures thou hast created?
Not knowing I had uttered a prayer, in the fullness of my heart
I sat in the gloaming, and in time it became quite dark.
I was resting—sitting passive—not even trying to think,
When an angel stood before me! Perhaps ’twas—a dream; who knows?
Who can tell when a dream commences or when we doze,
Or when imagination creates a thing; if practical, why need we care?
To me it was a vision and the angel was most fair,
As she pointed to the stars in the heavens, shining there:
“They too, are worlds,” she whispered, “struggling to the light,
Gaining wisdom by experience and power by their might.
Go write and tell the world about them and how they won:
When powers and principalities seemed greater than the sun.
This monster called ‘money,’ that all love so well;
Has opened wide the very floodgates of hell,
Until you have a toiling, struggling mass called humanity.
Go, now, write the story; I bid you make haste
For your homes are menaced! Your country will be laid waste
By the Trusts who weave webs, as a spider to catch flies;
The Nation may be throttled until it dies.”
CHAPTER I.
In a country place near a town called Lake View, on the planet Herschel,
lived a family of the name of Vivian. They were known all over the
country for their hospitality, wealth and their beautiful daughters. For
generations the name Vivian had been associated with brave deeds, honest
lives and intellect. The girls were even known as “those very clever
Vivian girls.” Mira, the youngest of the four girls, just sixteen as
this story opens, was a bright, winsome girl, tall and graceful, with
large hazel eyes, a pink and white complexion, and an abundance of
golden hair.
On a bright autumn afternoon Mira was on the lawn watching the birds and
listening to their clatter as they collected in large numbers to take
their yearly journey to a warmer climate. “How wise they are,” she
pondered; “though so small, they know more than the people do. Away they
go to another part of the world. I wish I could go with them. I am so
weary of always staying in one place.” She gazed after them as they took
their onward flight, and her mother, who had been watching her from the
window, seemed to catch the thought, for she said aloud: “I am afraid,
like the birds, she will soon be leaving me alone.”
“Why, mother,” said a young man, approaching her; “you are actually
talking to yourself. I thought Helen or Mira was with you. I want one of
them to go on the lake with me.”
“Tom, look at Mira,” the mother exclaimed. “She is quite grown up. I
have never realized it till now. But before you call either of the
girls, I want to talk to you about the society you young people have
been organizing. The ideas are strange to me. When I was young, married
women didn’t take positions. Is it possible that you cannot support your
wife?”
“Why, of course I could,” the young man replied; “but when you were
young you had no Trusts to absorb your income as we have in this
generation. Nellie and I are dedicating ourselves to this undertaking.
We intend to work together to free ourselves and all who join us from
their tyranny.”
“It is quite an undertaking,” his mother replied. “I don’t see how you
are going to succeed without capital. It takes so much money now to
start anything to what it did when your father was young, and he
inherited the property.”
“The world hasn’t shrunk,” Tom replied, “since father’s time. The only
difficulty is in our knowing how to meet the situation in a new way. The
industry of the masses in every way, is how wealth has been collected,
and the people are as willing to work now as they ever have been. But
here is Mira.”
“Will you take a row with me, Mira?” he asks as she approaches them. “I
will tell you all about the society, mother, when we come back. I want
to rest my brain for a while out on the water. You don’t mind, do you,
mother?” he inquired.
“Oh, no,” she replied; “there is time enough before you return to the
city.”
Mrs. Vivian, her eldest son Geron and his family, besides Mira, lived on
the Vivian estate. The rest of the family had gone to the city to live,
after their father died; as their wealth had decreased it was necessary.
Tom was a lawyer; Libra had married a banker, and Scoris and Helen had
employment. The next day the rest of the family arrived at the old
homestead, for it was the mother’s birthday.
The family dinner had been a success, and they had all assembled in the
old-fashioned drawingroom for the evening. Old friends had been invited
to meet the city members of the family, especially Tom, who at that time
was making a change in the industrial life not well understood by his
friends or some members of the family. The gentlemen in the party had
grouped around Tom to hear about it, for it had been a surprise to them
that he had set aside his profession to take up this new line of work,
for he had been a successful lawyer for so young a man. In another
corner of the room some of the ladies were discussing the fashions,
while still another group had centered around Nellie, Tom’s bride.
The room was long and this evening the music room doors had been thrown
open on one side and the library opening into it also by large doors
afforded an opportunity for each group to converse without interrupting
the other. Mira had not been noticed when she and Jack Moberly (an old
acquaintance) had passed out on the lawn. He had something to tell her,
he whispered. He was going away nearly two thousand miles. An old uncle
had offered him a position superior to anything he could ever expect if
he stayed in Lake View. He wanted Mira to marry him and go, too.
[Illustration]
“I cannot leave you,” he said; and she in her inexperience thought she
couldn’t live without him. They knew her mother would never give her
consent, for she had been heard to say that if a child of hers married
under age she would break the marriage. No one had objected to Jack, but
none had suspected the true state of affairs between him and Mira. She
was so young.
They joined the rest of the family after a time and the evening passed,
all having enjoyed the music and the singing, as well as the renewing of
old friendships.
No one imagined that this birthday would be a day to be remembered as
the turning point in more lives than one among them, but it was.
Libra, the eldest daughter, and her husband had returned to the city.
Scoris and Helen, as well as Tom and Nellie, remained for a few days
longer. The next morning Tom announced that he was going to take Nellie
across the lake, and possibly they would go on farther and see some old
friends, so would not be back until evening. The morning was bright and
the water was as clear as crystal as they passed out from the small lake
through the narrows into the larger body of water, then on to one of the
small islands to the wonderful cave Tom had discovered when a boy. They
had fastened the boat, climbed the steep hill and walked about half a
mile through thickly grown shrubs, trees and brush, and over rocks;
still no cave was in sight. Nellie looked at Tom inquiringly. She could
see a high rock on one side with shrubs growing on its side in places,
but no sign of an opening except almost at the top, but that was fully
ten feet high.
Pushing aside the brush with one hand and holding the overhanging limb
of a large tree with the other, Tom said: “Now you follow me and I will
show you my old hiding place.” They went down a narrow passage rather
steep in places, but by hanging onto the roots of an old grape vine
managed to keep their footing until they landed on solid rock. They
walked a few feet, when, before them Nellie saw an opening about two and
a half feet wide. Beyond she could see a large chamber, lighted by the
opening she had seen on the outside. Part of the floor was flat and on
one side of the wall it was broken, as if it had been cut out for use at
some time, for it formed a seat and a table, or rather a shelf large
enough to hold the basket of provisions they had brought. Several boxes
were lying about, showing that it had been used at some time before. Tom
selected a box for Nellie, seated himself on the rock, then exclaimed:
“This is the place; what do you think of it?”
“Think!” she exclaimed; “I haven’t got beyond wondering yet. And it was
here you thought out all the plans for the society?”
“Yes,” he answered; “after I had lived in the city and seen all the
miseries the poor have to endure—the injustices.”
“No, no, dear, don’t say it,” she interrupts him. “This is our resting
time, and in such a place we are not going to spoil our holiday by even
thinking of unpleasant things today. So you came here to be quiet and
plan for the future?”
“Yes, the most important rules were written on that table of stone.”
“What a lovely memory so many of you have who were born and raised in
the country,” she continued. “How little the city people know about its
resources. Why, this cave would answer for a summer home. I wish it was
earlier in the season. We could bring in branches of trees and cover
them with pine needles for a bed, some bedding, rugs, etc., and what
more could we wish for as a quiet place to rest in?”
“Your enthusiasm would make up for deficiencies,” Tom answered. “While
you arrange our lunch I will go to a spring for water, so we can make
tea. Do you see the stove over there under that opening where the light
comes from?”
“I see a pile of stones,” she answered.
“Oh, you poor, ignorant city girl,” he laughed, “not to recognize the
camper’s most useful kitchen utensil.”
While her husband was gone for water, Nellie looked around the cave,
feeling the calmness of this God-made Temple. Only the twitter of birds,
and the rustle of falling leaves could be heard. She arranged the table
for their lunch, then waited till he came. Tom made the tea after he had
boiled the water over the twigs he had gathered and burned in the stone
stove. After lunch they strolled on through the woods, gathering
flowers, while Tom showed her all the beauties of the place. Evening
came before they realized it and as they ascended the hill on their
return home after securing the boat, when out from the shadow of the
trees they saw a calf tied to a tree.
[Illustration]
“Oh, Tom!” Nellie exclaimed, “look at that poor, helpless creature. It
cannot even lie down. Who tied it like that?”
“No one,” he replied. “Don’t you see it has wound itself up by twisting
the rope about the tree as it ran around it.”
“Such a look of resignation,” Nellie said. “It reminds me of the people
in the cities. They, too, are tied by the rope that the trusts and
custom have wound them up with.
“They suffer and die without knowing how easy it is to—go back—just
like—the calf. Oh!” she cried; “it will run over me. I didn’t know the
rope was so long.”
“Look out, or he will kick you before I can get hold of the rope. I had
to drive him back the way he came, and I forgot that you didn’t know the
ways of calves,” Tom said hurriedly, as he ran to secure it. She had
moved far enough away to feel safe before she continued in the same
train of thought.
“It has trampled its food down as it ran around its shelter, besides
amusing itself. Again that is like the majority of city people. The
infants play with rattle boxes, but the grown children with politics and
money. A shelter and food are gambled for until the age limit confronts
them.”
“There you are, old fellow,” Tom exclaims, not noticing Nellie’s reverie
as he unties the rope. “Now, Nellie, you go on to the house, and tell
them I am coming as hungry as a bear. I’ll give him a drink before he
does the same thing over again.”
Nellie started and was crossing the orchard when she saw a number of
cows eating apples that had fallen on the ground. She thought of little
children in the city who rarely tasted an apple and could be seen
looking longingly at the street stands. The abundance of fruit
everywhere on this large estate of several hundred acres was amazing to
her, as she compared the need of these things in the cities. “Oh, what
an unnecessary waste,” she thought. “It would have seemed incredible if
I had been told it. Here are cows feeding upon the rarest varieties.”
“Well,” exclaimed Mira, laughingly, as she appeared around the corner of
an outbuilding, “are you trying to cheat the cows? We have been keeping
dinner until I expect it is spoiled, waiting for you. Mother became
uneasy and sent me to hurry you up.”
As Tom overtook them he laughed also at seeing the fruit in Nellie’s
arms. After dinner he took her to the cellar and showed her the great
bins of apples without a flaw that were stored for winter, besides all
the vegetables and all kinds of fruit; then they went to the parlor,
where the rest of the family had assembled.
A low fire burned in the grate to make the room cheerful as it had
turned chilly.
Scoris, the eldest unmarried sister, was trying to interest Geron’s wife
in the society, but in spite of her own enthusiasm, Grace did not seem
to respond. Just at this time Scoris found it hard to talk on any other
subject for any length of time, it seemed so all-important to her.
Helen, the other sister, and Nellie exchanged glances, both realizing
that there was a prejudice against the society in the home circle they
had not expected. Scoris, with Tom, had been the means of starting the
society, which had grown so fast that Tom had finally sold out his law
partnership so that he could devote his whole time to it. In the city
almost every one responded that they had been able to reach, and here
were their own relatives absolutely indifferent.
Several times during the evening Nellie would ask questions about the
abundance of things that were thrown away or given to the animals. Geron
finally explained that all those things were of less value to them than
the labor would amount to. “We live so far away from the cities that it
doesn’t pay to ship them. Tom’s idea is the best, evidently, for he
intends to bring the people to the farms where they can secure all the
surplus. You will have your hands full, I can promise you. If I wasn’t
so far away I would advise you to take my place; farming don’t pay any
too well.”
Tom answered: “You must remember I am not starting a farm, merely using
the land to provide the necessities at first hand. The object of the
society is to secure homes for its members, then food at first cost,
while it aims to give them employment as nearly as possible according to
their talents and the society’s needs. We take the farms to build our
town because it has to be started under new conditions, for we must
compete with the old money system for many years.”