FAREWELL TO OPHIR.
This is the story, the outlines of which I have worked out by years
of incessant labor upon the tablets, assisted by the most expert
antiquarians of the age. A work of historical truths interwoven with
a weft of romance, but who can imagine scenes of real human life
unflavored by romantic incidents and unsalted with the savor of love?
All nature is fashioned in love, and all love inherent in nature.
Meanwhile Abner and I--two plain American citizens of the modern
republic of America, untrammeled by the superstitions of the ancient
Incas and untainted with the bestial rites of the worship of the sun
were still lingering in the cool grottoes of Solomon’s treasure house.
We wandered by “cool Siloam’s shady rill,” set its current gurgling
and boiling at pleasure, and stilled its murmurs in a moment. We have
glutted our desire for the figs and the grapes and the pomegranates of
Palestine the younger, and wandered by moonlight through the gardens
where the servants of Solomon dreamed of their native rose of Sharon,
their lily of the valley, and cheered the tedium of their toilsome
efforts in the subterranean chamber by dreaming of the coming of a
ship that never sailed, of a respite which never came, and weary and
worn with watching for the morning star of deliverance, drew out their
existence of enforced celibacy till age and care had done their work.
But we may no longer dream of the past or ruminate on the sad edict
that limits all mortal life. We may no longer indulge our fancies in
a spot full of morbid suggestions and associations. We must rouse
ourselves from our day-dreams, and away to love and Lena. What a
thumping of the heart at the thought! Even Abner is pawing the valley
in his impatience to see Chicago once more, “not having,” as he said,
“sich a powerful sight of days left any more to do his goin’ around
in.” We had knotted our brows for many an anxious hour over the problem
of how we were to escape with our treasures to civilization, or with
a reasonable amount of it, for we had no idea of losing sight of our
mine, or of bidding it a final adieu.
Our plan was to make a smaller raft from parts of our old one and
float down the artificial stream to the Colorado again, hoping that it
would be near the end of the canyon, and then make a portage to the
navigable part of the Colorado, float on down its waters to the ranch
country below. Here we might find some pack horses to carry ourselves
and our “specimens,” for we were to pose as two votaries of science
on a prospecting trip, and so meet the Southern Pacific, and away for
Chicago.
And now what tumult of emotion and exuberance of association shake
us as we prepare to say farewell to the scene of our wonderful
discoveries. Brief in time, but closely crowded by events, it was as
if we had been in the home of King Solomon’s vassals for years instead
of days. “We count our lives by experience, not years, in deeds, not
days.” We bring ourselves at last to the commonplace task of lading our
little craft, having built it in the dry channel of the underground
river by the slippery stairway where at our will we could perfect the
lading on dry land, and when ready to launch we could bring the sea to
our vessel, reversing the usual order of things.
At last everything is in readiness. Our gold is in strong bags in which
we brought food, securely lashed to the cross timber; provisions,
for which many a traveler would gladly have given bulk for bulk in
gold, equally well secured. Pickaxes, emblematical of our occupation,
loved for old aquaintance sake, and our rifles, the bosom friends of
backwoodsmen, and a few odd articles of apparel were encompassed by
bounds much smaller than those of a Saratoga trunk, and we take a last
survey of the gallery and garden, temple, and tomb, and prepare for the
last act in the Comedy of Errors that has landed us in the very lap of
fortune, namely, to open the floodgates and set in motion again the
forces which Solomon had harnessed to do his bidding. To accomplish
this is but the work of a moment; Abner standing upon our water-steed,
reins in hand to guide or restrain, while I pick my way on the rocky
path to the floodgate, clamber upon the shelf, seize the brazen globe,
while in answer to my efforts the sullen roar of the fretted waters
sounds again, and springing back down the narrow footway, descending
the granite stairway, mount our raft as it begins to throb and rise
like a large tropical turtle, and in a moment glides down the dark
incline toward daylight and hope.
Abner gazed back dreamily at the receding, familiar objects, as one who
realizes that he is probably gazing back upon an interesting phase of
his life, that was about to drop out of it forever. Satisfied in the
acquisition of wealth which opened a new life to him, there was yet a
tinge of sadness in leaving the old for the new that was like saying
good-by and God bless you to an old friend whom we expect never to see
again.
If we analyze the faculty of reverence for old age we find that it is
made up in part of much the same feeling of pity with which I regarded
his leave-taking, feeling that it was final.
Mine might be final, but hope intervened as a cushion to break the
concussion upon the brain. Good-by to the pursuit of a project, and
a greeting to the possession. The pleasures of the one are purely
distinct from those of the other.
We drift very gently down a placid little stream, whose quiet current
occasions our surprise, when we contrast it with that of the Colorado,
and it becomes a puzzle to us when we remember that from the general
trend of the country it must re-empty its waters into old Turbulence
herself.
But the comfortable fact remains, and all day we drift lazily or
paddle slowly southward and at night make our camp on a pleasant bit
of tree-covered shore. Next day finds us pursuing our journey, which
passed without any more exciting incident than the killing of another
deer, for our store of food began to run low. At night when we landed
and made our camp on a little rising knoll back from the water’s
edge where the noises of the stream were left behind, we noticed as
we prepared our sylvan bed of green boughs that a dull roaring sound
seemed to come in waves from a southerly direction, which I at first
supposed to mean the coming of a thunder storm. But Abner, being a
better plainsman, rejected this theory as entirely unreasonable, as
a thunder storm was unknown in that region, he said, and was himself
inclined to the opinion that it was an earthquake; but after listening
intently for some time as the sound seemed to rise and fall in regular
cadences, he confessed that he was unable to offer any explanation of
the phenomenon. Whatever the cause, it continued unchanged while we lay
on our camp bed looking up at the over-twinkling stars, and at last
lulled us to sleep and greeted us when we woke.
We had not traveled far on our way on that morning before the sound
seemed to penetrate through the ripple of the current and the gentle
swish-swash of the water against our craft. Louder and still louder as
we advanced it became, till we were satisfied that it was caused by a
cataract or some sort of volcanic action.
It was becoming apparent that our course was leading us toward the
channel of the Colorado, as we could determine by the contour of the
hills, and soon the current quickened its pace, warning us by our
past hazardous experience that we had no time to lose in shunning the
current, and seeking the quieter waters along the western shore, where
we drifted along as far as we thought it safe, then drew ashore, and
prepared to do some scouting before we made another decisive move.
Concealing our craft in a thicket along the bank, we took our rifles
and started on an exploring expedition. As we descended the stream the
banks became more precipitous, and the current more turbulent.
About a mile from our landing we climbed a series of ragged bluffs, and
standing at last on the crest, we had the Colorado at our feet again,
and a spectacle of superlative magnificence beside us, where Solomon’s
rill flowed into the parent stream. It was no rill in appearance here
as it tumbled in sheer descent over the brow of the cliffs beside us to
the channel of the Colorado far below us, sending back from its depths
a terrific, hoarse, bellowing roar, deadened and deflected by the
deep-mouthed gorge that greedily swallowed it, and still gaped for more.
We had no means of estimating the distance through which the water
plunged, but it was hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet, and in
sublimity far outshone Niagara. As we stood close to the brink and
watched the sheet that seemed to twist itself farther down into a
huge rope, and farther still fly into infinitely small particles of
spray, I reflected that here was one of the glories of Solomon’s reign
for which he had never received the homage of the world; and so from
remembering with a start that this was an artificial cataract, the
thought electrified me, why not divert half the river into Solomon’s
rill, and make the grandest spectacle of its kind in the known world?
And as we went back toward our boat, we discussed the plans which we
should carry out when next we came to our mine, though there was still
in my mind a feeling of delicacy about trying to enlist Abner in my
youthful schemes, for the same dreamy expression as before would soften
his honest, rugged features, and remind me with a feeling of almost
tearful sadness that youth and old age might not always abide together.
In deep silence we plodded back to our raft and began preparations for
a portage which we saw by the extended view obtained from the bluffs
would not be very far below the cataract.
It proved to be at least a mile and a half, however, from our landing
place, and with our budget of heavy metal it took two days to
accomplish the portage and re-embark on the river to begin the last
stage of our river voyage.
We had heard that a band of cattle men held the country to the
southward in the teeth of Piutes and Comanches, and on this knowledge
we based our hopes of deliverance.
Another day’s journey down the stream, and we noticed cattle in
scattered groups feeding along the river or winding down by the deeply
worn trails to drink at the water’s edge, and in three or four hours
more we were in sight of a long rambling “doby” house with small
windows set high in the wall, and with its outlying sheds and corrals
bespoke the southern ranch.
We hailed the sight with delight, and drawing our raft upon the
sand we approached this house of the Mexican air, and found two or
three cowboys in the characteristic and picturesque attire of the
semi-American vaquero, who were amusing themselves at target practice
with heavy caliber revolvers and piercing the center which was the size
of a dime with perfect ease and moderate certainty at fifty yards.
They seemed to adopt a covert posture of defense toward us, but when we
addressed them in English and told them our story, and showed them a
number of specimens which we considered very valuable from a scientific
point of view, their sentiments toward us underwent an instant change.
To these practical roamers of the Western range such specimens might
amuse boys for a moment; but to see men absorbed in collecting and
preserving such gewgaws relieved them of all apprehension on our
account, and enabled them at once to classify us as of the harmless
type of idiot entitled to pity rather than any other sentiment.
We were received, when once we were properly catalogued in their minds,
very hospitably, and treated, at evening, to a sumptuous repast of
slapjacks and beefsteak, accompanied by strong black coffee. We were
assigned sleeping apartments in the middle of the one room, while our
entertainers plunged into trough-like bunks on the walls, and lulled by
the wailing cry of the coyote and the barking of the wolfish-looking
half-Spanish dogs, we slept.
In the morning after a hearty breakfast of baking powder biscuit,
breakfast bacon and black coffee, for your cattle ranch can seldom
afford the luxuries of butter and milk, we soon made a bargain with
our hosts to escort us to the railroad. On pretext of reassorting and
washing our specimens, we conveyed them to a little brook flowing by
the ranch, and making a sort of paint of a tough clay we had noticed
there, we immersed each piece of gold in this mixture of clay and water
effectively veiling the glittering color of our treasure, which excited
nothing more dangerous than an expression of contempt in our caravan
drivers.
The chief source of our feeling of security lay in this estimate put
upon us by our cowboy escort, and we did not try to dispel the illusion
in their minds. The only other source of danger that caused us much
anxiety was that of the Comanches, or other warlike Indians who roved
over this region, and never let slip an opportunity to prove themselves
covetous, bloodthirsty poltroons as ever dogged an emigrant caravan or
mining outfit, till they had them in a position that made resistance on
the white man’s part utterly useless, and the attack on the part of
the reds simply a cold-blooded murder, involving no personal risk to
themselves.
The long and tedious days of heat, hardship, and weariness were
forgotten by us when we at last rode into the little rude,
temporary-looking town that stood for the present terminus of the
Southern Railway and the future metropolis of the southwest.
Here we found a hotel where there were actually private rooms for
guests, and appliances for cleansing and laving that aroused queer,
thumping sensations at my heart as though they were messengers
whispering to me of home. We shipped our specimens by express, or
expressed our desire to do so, to a dreamy agent who stood by the
window of the bare station house looking out over the prairie, and
who was far too much preoccupied with his day-dreams of a future
metropolitan city that was to cover all this plain, and convert the
sand atoms of his homestead on the edge of the town into gold, to mind
us.
We respected the greatness of the vision seen by his mental eye, and
patiently waited till he should return to the earth from his airy
flight which he did in the course of an hour or so, and turning to us,
inquired if we wished to send the stuff East. We replied that such
was indeed our earnest desire, and heaving a great sigh to denote how
burdensome were his official duties, he proceeded deliberately to wait
upon us, and informed us that in one hour and twenty minutes we should
have an opportunity to proceed on our way eastward.
And the journey--when it was at last begun--how impossible to describe
my feelings or even give a guess at those of my friend of the red
flannel shirt and the big loyal heart! The only thing that remains to
me of that journey is the recollection of the impatience to arrive
at our destination that so filled my thoughts that all notice of
commonplace things was swallowed up.
Less than a year’s absence from my native city had been so filled with
strange fortunes and shifting adventures that it seemed as though
years had flown. Abner himself could not be more surprised at the
transformation in Chicago than I expected to be. And when at last we
rolled into the Garden City of the West, it was hard to tell which,
Abner or I, was the more completely lost in wonder; Abner at the
stupendous change that had taken place since his departure from the
city, and I that it had changed so little. We kept our precious freight
in sight while it was being transferred to a safe deposit vault in the
city, and that weight rolled away, our spirits rose to exuberance as
we journeyed by horse car toward my uncle’s residence. Abner seemed
a little depressed by the change in his surroundings and muttered
once, as he noticed that he was the center of attraction, that “he’d
rather face an old bear and her cubs than such a parcel of precious
gaping idiots.” I gave him all the comfort in my power, which was not
much, for my habiliments were not much better; but I despised the
vapid, sneering crowd, who regarded him as a rare specimen, knowing as
I did that Abner was every vein and fiber a hero in the world he had
just left behind, and as such, quite independent of the adulation or
ridicule of this modern beehive of humanity.
Arrived at the familiar street and number we were soon in my old home,
exchanging greetings with my aged uncle, whose joy at my return, all
unconscious as he was of my good fortune, added a hundred-fold to the
pleasant anticipation on which I had fondly dwelt of gladdening his
remaining days, and freeing them from all care.
He warmly seconded my desire to make Abner feel that this was a home in
which he was entirely welcome, in a fashion to suit his own fancy, not
a social straight-jacket into which he was invited to thrust himself,
but a home which “vindicated the name and fulfilled the praise of home.”
Only waiting long enough to satisfy the claims of consanguinity that
bound me to my dear uncle, I hastened to renovate and transform the
greasy miner and traveler into a respectable Chicagoan, and ransacked
my wardrobe left behind for the best it would afford. Then followed an
expedition to the barber, the furnisher, and the hatter. Arrayed in my
best, I stood before Abner, who did not for several seconds recognize
his companion of the Mountain Spring Mine.
Leaving him to the mercies of my foster-father, from whom I had already
learned that Lena was well, I hastened away to announce my right to
claim her as my reward for having endured, as a good soldier, all
the trials of a genuine backwoodsman. I rang the bell, as I had so
often done before, and expected to meet the familiar face of the same
faithful domestic that used to admit me, but presently the door opened,
and I stood looking down into the startled eyes of Lena herself. My
vanity could not have desired a prettier softening of the surprised
expression in her lovely face into one of delighted recognition.
Barber and tailor alike were powerless to erase the effects of sun and
exposure on my countenance, but it took my gazelle but a moment to
pierce the disguise, to give me such a welcome as relegated the painful
experiences of my mountain life far into the background of memory.
There was in Lena’s expressive features a new and more womanly charm
that puzzled me, a new fountain of tenderness welling from her soft
eyes, and dropping from her lips with every word of her soft, gentle
speech. I had gone away hopelessly, forlornly in love, and now I had
returned to fall into a still greater depth of distraction.
She questioned me so closely and rapidly as to my life and surroundings
in the West, chided so energetically that I had not communicated
in some way with her during the long period during which I was
buried alive in the mountains, and beamed upon me with such evident
satisfaction at beholding me again, that I could not doubt for a moment
that her affection was of that type found in true womanhood, that time
cannot efface or circumstances change.
But when I began to tell her that I had removed the ban that her
father had placed upon our intercourse, she started as though she had
forgotten a very painful phase of our past in the joy of our meeting.
Red and white, blushed and paled alternately on her cheeks, and a
glistening teardrop in the eye hinted of some secret cause of trouble
that impended over our future. I tried to comfort her by telling her
that the wealth of myself and gallant old partner was uncounted and
practically unlimited in amount. Instead of being comforted, as I had
hoped, she grew still more distressed, and put out her little hand in
a gesture imploring me to stop, and in a voice unsteady with feeling,
she exclaimed: “Oh, don’t, don’t. Please don’t say anything more about
it. Oh, you don’t know what a wide chasm you are opening between us by
your words, nor how they sting me to the heart.”
I looked at her in unfeigned and extreme astonishment. “Why, Lena
dear,” I said, “what is it? I meant that every nugget should add luster
to your happiness, and every ounce of the gold we gathered from the
mine of Ophir should solace instead of pain you. I cannot understand
you.”
“But have you not heard,” she rejoined, “how our affairs have gone
since your going away? Our fortune is all gone, and of all our former
wealth and grandeur, this home alone is left to us.”
“Oh, if that is all,” I said, laughing, “don’t shed another tear over
it, for it makes not the least difference to me, I have plenty for all.”
“Ah, yes,” she pleaded very gently but very earnestly, “it does make a
vast difference to me, as you must known upon reflecting a little.” I
perceived that her sensitive little soul was racked with the thought
that since her parents had in so mercenary a spirit forbidden me her
presence, on account of my poverty, she should be equally mercenary, in
my estimation, should she accept, now that I had fortune and she had
none.
Cold logic failed to make any impression upon her mind, but when I
brought to bear the weapon of Love’s logic, she blushingly yielded,
and the crowning joy of my home-coming was complete.
The meeting with Lena’s parents was somewhat awkward, and Mr. Upton’s
manners somewhat constrained. He listened quietly to the story of my
adventures, and grew mournful in proportion as I enlarged upon the
incidents of my good fortune, complained brokenly and bitterly of the
injustice and hardness of the world that would not come to the rescue
of an old business man whose whole life had been governed by the
strictest rules of integrity, when a few thousands would have saved him
from ruin.
“And would a few thousands save you yet?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said he, “this crisis has only come on during the last ten
days.”
“My dear sir,” said I, “if that is all that stands in the way of your
continued prosperity, have no further uneasiness on that subject; you
can have the money to-morrow morning to the extent of one hundred
thousand dollars.”
Had my mind been spiteful, I could have wished for no greater revenge
than that which my words inflicted upon him; he started and colored
and squirmed in his chair as though he had been stung by an adder,
but necessity is a cruel teacher, and he could not afford to refuse
even from me, under circumstances the most painful, to accept such an
offer, and he therefore said in a tone of manly resolve: “I will accept
it as a loan in the spirit in which it is offered, and I hope you will
feel that I have been sufficiently punished for the heartless conduct
of which I was guilty toward you.”
It was not for me to keep him upon the rack, for his gray hairs were
a sufficient title to my respect; and hastily dismissing the subject,
I sought Lena’s congenial presence, more happy in the outcome of
the last-mentioned incident than I could express, though my beaming
countenance was a telltale message to her eyes, and my tongue was
obliged to confirm what my features had confessed.
Who need attempt to describe the overflowing happiness of the days that
followed?
Together Abner and I roamed the city, I acting as guide and interpreter
of many things which of needs must be mysterious to him, but I am
obliged to confess that even to Abner I begrudged the time spent away
from the center around which, in my eyes, Chicago revolved.
I would be more than human did I not feel gratified by the honor
bestowed upon me by my fellow-men.
While it seemed to me that in the closing year of my school life I
had suffered a culmination of woes almost unbearable it seemed now
that events conspired to make me a thoroughly happy and successful
man. The story of my strange discoveries in the cliffs of the Colorado
spread like wildfire throughout the civilized world, beginning at my
home university, my Alma Mater, at whose feet I had laid my trophies
on coming home. She had responded generously by bestowing the honors
of the institution upon me. I have been accorded like distinctions by
several Eastern colleges, and have received decorations from several
of the ancient and honorable orders of Europe. Doubtless the story of
the fabulous wealth, which accompanied the scientific discovery, added
a romantic tinge to the whole in the public mind, but to the credit of
mankind and to my great gratification the world seemed to regard, as I
did, the mine of knowledge unearthed as being of vastly more real worth
to humanity than all the gold of Ophir.
I am a quiet man, and hate fuss and noise. I enjoyed in a quiet way
the respect and admiration accorded me on all hands, on account of
my valuable contributions to science, but I also squirmed under the
would-be admiring terms showered upon me by a certain class of sickly
sentimental sycophants who follow the public scent and strive to bask
in a little cheap popularity by association with those who are supposed
to have a stock of that commodity on hand.
I was pursued by a few such characters steadily and relentlessly, was
obliged to listen with what courtesy I could summon to extravagant
tributes to the splendor of my mental equipment, while I was forced
to admit to myself that my abilities were of a very ordinary kind and
could not therefore believe in their sincerity and their discrimination
both at once.
However much I enjoyed the hearty congratulations of my real friends,
I felt that I was far too young a man to think of retiring upon the
strength of one or two chance achievements, and my ambition was
stimulated to greater efforts in the direction of archæology.
Lena grew as enthusiastic as I in her loyalty to me and all that could
interest me, and the upshot of it all was that dear, loving little
Lena promised that an early day next June should be named for our
wedding, provided I should make her my companion on my next exploring
expedition, and turn it into a wedding tour.
Who could refuse such a companion to beguile the long hours of
banishment such as I had endured at the Garden of Ophir, and to chase
the hard lines of care and weariness from my workaday brow? In fact who
could be unselfish enough to refuse to ratify a bargain whose terms
were all in one’s favor?
Misgivings as to the hardships to which Lena should be subjected were
lightly brushed aside as straws by Lena herself who stoutly maintained
that no hardships of the frontier could be so trying as the period
of waiting for tidings of me through which she had passed, that no
solitude of the wilderness where we two might roam could ever impress
her with the spirit of utter loneliness that had weighed down upon her
in my absence, and consulting my own preferences I could but admit with
a thrill of delight that her logic was that of a true, affectionate,
womanly woman, and so everything was settled.
Abner, domiciled cosily in my uncle’s house, fell easily into the new
mode of life like the true philosopher that he was, and his enjoyment
of everything relating to our great city enhances every day. He is
enjoying himself far too well, he announces, to think of giving up
his present comforts for the pleasure of shooting the rapids of the
Colorado, or “liftin’ the har offin’ a Piute Injun. No more of that for
me, thankee,” said our hero of many a wild fracas in the peaks of the
Rocky Mountains, or the valleys of the Sierras.
As for myself, I am happy in the loving favor of Lena, and comfortably
secure in the possession of enough wealth to smooth my path through
life. Beyond this my desire for wealth ceases.
Naturally my mind turns to thoughts of benevolent schemes to better the
condition of my fellows.
I shall build and endow no colleges. I shall lay no hand in oppression
upon the wages of the poor that I may rear a splendid monument to my
memory like the Pullman Satire upon benevolence. I shall not present
my native city with a Carnegie library whose shelves are packed with
quartos, folios, and octavos, and the exterior of whose resting place
is a dream of lovely architecture, wall and portico and arch, vieing
with each other for the palm of costliness and beauty, and whose
surmounting graceful spire points to heaven in mocking apostrophe to
the Goddess of Charity, while the men who have produced all this wealth
swelter and toil in the melting heat of furnace and forge, accompanied
in their work by the clamor of iron, the din of labor, forming a weird
scenic effect, powerfully reminding the workers of Plutonian fires,
while their wages decline, and cares increase, that the cool index
finger of the great library may be reared toward heaven.
My investigations into the cause of humanity have brought me, now that
I have leisure to devote to the subject, nausea and disgust at the
so-called benevolence of the world. Do the coal barons hold a splendid
feast at Delmonico’s? The price of coal must needs go up, and the poor
shivering tenant of the rookeries of our city must shiver a little
harder and burn a little less coal.
Is the tariff upon garments slightly reduced? Immediately the miserable
price of three pennies that were paid our sweaters for making a shirt
must go down to two, and the dry loaf that kept the breath of life
within the starving body must be reduced correspondingly in size, lest
the fat margin of the clothier should suffer, or the luxurious plans of
his fashionable lady be curtailed.
Hard times from all these causes make many applicants for clerkships,
and down goes the salary of the frail girls who stand behind the
counter till one swoons away, and is carried home only to find that
her place is supplied when she returns, at a reduced salary, “for
competition is the life of trade, and business is business, you know.”
Yes, we know business is business, and we begin to know that hardness
is hardness, and that the heart and life of business is the adamantine
monster, self.
Our faculties, at first feebly stirred by these considerations, become
powerfully alive to the fact that “Man’s inhumanity to man makes
countless thousands mourn,” and with the knowledge comes the desire
to counteract these direful effects in the world, to the limit of our
power.
Here again we bless the quiet, tactful, uplifting hand of woman; for I
found that Lena’s invariable habit of life had been, when her fortunes
were smiling, to spend many hours of every week ministering to the
afflicted and poverty-stricken creatures around her, and when she was
no longer sure that her own daily bread would be forthcoming on the
morrow, she still bestowed her gentle ministrations upon these poor
mortals from whose hearts hope had fled.
Not till I knew this chapter in Lena’s life could I understand the new
well-spring of tenderness in her bonnie blue eyes, or fully appreciate
the broader human sympathy that swayed her actions. She began at once
the work of enlisting my sympathies in the work of restoring “these
defaced images of the Creator,” as she was pleased to call them, and no
spectacle of wretchedness, poverty, and filth, could disguise in her
eyes the fact that they were his images, warped and wrecked though they
might be, but still bearing the imprint of a benevolent, all-pitying
Over-soul.
Some of the tales of suffering she related to me seemed incredible,
even from Lena’s lips, and so, as much from curiosity as from any
better motive, I began to accompany her in her capacity as ministering
angel, and the sly Lena knew that my tender susceptibilities all unused
to such scenes of utter woe among the children of men, would do the
rest. I soon adopted the plan of acting as sort of private detective,
and asking all sorts of questions and recording them together with the
answers in my memorandum. The result arrived at was startling in its
industrial significance.
“Poverty, hunger, and rags; suffering, sorrow, and sin.”
Can the Christian womanhood of my native city revel in luxury and
wealth, while within sound of their gay laughter and gleeful converse,
“A woman sits in unwomanly rags, plying her needle and thread?” Does
she believe vitally that God is no respecter of persons, or is it a
sort of hazy abstract truth in the moral job-lot delivered to her
weekly by her sleek, well-groomed pastor?
I am perfecting an industrial project by which I hope to reach a
helping hand to my unfortunate brother. I propose to build large
factories for the production of articles necessary to the world in its
plain, everyday requirements.
No day-dreams as to methods and management are to be indulged, but
stern men of experience will conduct the business on conservative
business principles.
The work done will range from that which taxes the strength of
the strongest man to that which is suitable for feeble women, not
physically capable of enduring heavy work, and yet compelled to work
for a livelihood. The wages paid for all classes of work will be
liberal for satisfactory service, enabling all the operatives and their
families to live in wholesome plenty, and build a snug fortification
against the encroachments of old age. In addition to this a premium
wage rate will be paid each operative at the end of the month for
those whose industry has been unflagging and have not lost a day during
the month unnecessarily, and a regular physician attached to the
concern will dictate as to what is necessary in sickness.
This latter will not be paid in cash, however, but in stock in the
concern at its actual par value; and thus every operative may, in
time, become a partner in the business, the plan being so drawn as to
preclude all possibility of any individual’s owning an undue share of
the whole.
Thus while ministering to their self-respect, by inducing honest
effort, and rousing their highest ability as skilled operatives, their
interest in the prosperity of the whole project will be intensified by
the sense of partial ownership.
Into all my plans for bettering humanity Lena enters with the heartiest
enthusiasm; and if my scheme is successful, I have no doubt, it will
owe much to her valuable suggestions as a result of her lifelong
devotion to the cause of the
“Lowly and humble, the weary and broken in heart,
Who strove and who failed, acting bravely a silent and desperate
part.”