"There are three art galleries beyond, two for paintings, and one for

sculpture. Mr. Ames has without doubt the finest art collection in

America. It includes several Titians, Veroneses, da Vincis, Turners,

three Rubens, and two Raphaels. By the way, it may interest you to

know that his negotiations for the Murillo Madonna were completed

to-day, and the picture will be sent to him immediately."

"Might I ask what he paid for it?" Haynerd inquired casually.

"You may say that he paid something over three hundred thousand

dollars for it," she replied, in a quite matter of fact tone. "Now,"

she continued, "you will go back to your first position, near the door

of the waiting room, and remain there until I return. I may have an

opportunity later to show you the library. It is very unique. Great

carved stone fireplace, taken from a Scotch castle. Hundreds of rare

volumes and first editions. Now, if any one approaches, you can step

behind the screen and remain out of view. You have chairs and a table

there for your writing. Do not in any event leave this balcony."

With this final injunction she turned and disappeared into the little

waiting room from which they had emerged.

For some moments Carmen and Haynerd stood looking alternately at

each other and about them at their magnificent environment. Both had

seen much of the gilded life, and the girl had dwelt some months in

its alien atmosphere. But neither had ever witnessed such a

stupendous display of material wealth as was here unfolded before

their astonished gaze. At the head of the grand stairway stood the

Ames trio, to receive their resplendent guests. The women were

magnificently gowned. But Ames's massive form in its simple black

and chaste linen was the cynosure of all eyes. Even Haynerd could

not suppress a note of admiration as he gazed at the splendid figure.

"And yet," he murmured, "a victim, like the rest, of the great

delusion."

Carmen laid down the opera glasses through which she had been studying

the man. "He is an expression," she said, "of the American ideal--the

ideal of practical material life. It is toward his plane of life that

this country's youth are struggling, at, oh, what a cost! Think,

think, what his immense, misused revenue could do, if unselfishly

used! Why, the cost of this single night's show would put two hundred

men like Father Waite through a four-year course in the University,

and train them to do life's work! And what, what will Mr. Ames get out

of it?"

"Oh, further opportunities to increase his pile, I suppose," returned

Haynerd, shrugging his shoulders.

"But, will he get real happiness? Peace? Joy? And does he need further

opportunities to accumulate money? Does he not rather need some one to

show him the meaning of life, how to really live?"

"He does, indeed! And it may be your mission, Carmen, to do just that.

But if you don't, then I sincerely hope the man may die before he

discovers that all that he has achieved, his wealth, his prestige, his

power, have not been worth striving for!"

"He hasn't the slightest idea of the meaning of life," she murmured,

looking down upon the glittering throng. "Nor have any of them."

"No," he replied. "They put me in mind of Carlyle's famous remark, as

he stood looking out across the London Strand: 'There are in this city

some four million people, mostly fools.' How mean, narrow and hard

their lives are! These are the high priests of vested privilege, of

mediaevalism, of old institutions whose perpetual maintenance, even in

a generation that has progressed far beyond them, is a fungus blight

upon us. Ah, there's little Willie Van Wot, all dolled out! He's

glorifying his Creator now by devoting his foolish little existence to

coaching trips along the New England shore. He reminds me of the Fleet

street poet who wrote a century ago of the similar occupation of a

young dandy of that day--

What can little T. O. do?

Why, drive a Phaeton and Two!!!

Can little T. O. do no more?

Yes, drive a Phaeton and Four!!!!

"He's an interesting outgrowth of our unique social system, eh?"

"We must follow Emerson and treat them all as we do pictures, look at

them in the best light," murmured Carmen.

"Aye, hang them in the best light!" returned Haynerd. "But make sure

they're well hung! There goes the pseudo-princess, member of the royal

house of England. She carries the royal taint, too. I tell you, under

the splash and glitter you can see the feet of clay, eh?"

"Yes," smiled Carmen, "resting upon the high heel."

"Huh!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture of disgust. "The women of

fashion seem to feel that the Creator didn't do a good job when He

designed the feminine sex--that He should have put a hump where the

heel is, so's to slant the foot and make comfortable walking

impossible, as well as to insure a plentiful crop of foot-troubles and

deformities. The Chinese women used to manifest a similarly insane

thought. Good heavens! High heel, low brain! The human mind is a cave

of black ignorance!"

Carmen did not reply, but bent her attention again to the throng

below.

"Look there," said Haynerd, indicating a stout, full-toiletted woman,

resplendent with diamonds. "That's our eminent French guest, Madam

Carot. She severed herself from her tiresome consort last year by

means of a bichloride tablet deftly immersed in his coffee, and then,

leaving a sigh of regret hovering over his unhandsome remains,

hastened to our friendly shores, to grace the _beau monde_ with her

gowns and jewels."

Carmen turned to him with a remonstrance of incredulity.

"Fact," he stubbornly insisted. "The Social Era got the whole spicy

story. And there beside her is our indispensable Mrs. T. Oliver

Pennymon. See, she's drifted up to young Watson! Coquetting for a

husband still, the old buzzard!"

"Mr. Haynerd!"

"Well, it's fact, anyway," persisted the society monitor. "And there

beyond her is fat little Mrs. Stuffenheimer, with her two unlovely,

red-faced daughters. Ah, the despairing mamma is still vainly angling

for mates for her two chubby Venuses! If they're not married off

properly and into good social positions soon, it's mamma for the scrap

heap! By George! it's positively tragic to see these anxious mothers

at Newport and Atlantic City and other fashionable places, rushing

madly hither and yon with their marriageable daughters, dragging them

from one function to another in the wild hope that they may ultimately

land a man. Worry and pain dig deep furrows into poor mamma's face if

she sees her daughters fading into the has-been class. It requires

heroism, I say, to travel in society! But I guess you know, eh? Well,"

taking up his notebook, "we must get busy now. By the way, how's your

shorthand progressing?"

"Oh, splendidly," replied the girl, her eyes still upon the massive

figure of Ames. Then, recovering from her abstraction, "I can write as

fast in it now as in longhand."

"Good!" said Haynerd. "You'll need it later."

For more than an hour the two sat in the seclusion of the splendid

balcony, looking down upon the scene of magnificence below. Through

the mind of the young girl ran a ceaseless paean of thanksgiving for

her timely deliverance from the trammels which she so well knew

enshackled these glittering birds of paradise. With it mingled a

great, consuming desire, a soul-longing to pour into the vacuity of

high society the leaven of her own pure thought. In particular did her

boundless love now go out to that gigantic figure whose ideals of life

this sumptuous display of material wealth and power expressed. Why was

he doing this? What ulterior motive had he? Was it only a vainglorious

exhibition of his own human prowess? Was it an announcement,

magnificent beyond compare, that he, J. Wilton Ames, had attained the

supreme heights of gratified world ambition? That the world at last

lay at his feet? And that over it brooded the giant's lament that

there remained nothing more to conquer? But, if so, the girl at least

knew that the man's herculean efforts to subdue the material world

were as nothing. The real conquest lay still before him, the conquest

of self. And when that were faced and achieved, well she knew that no

such garish display as this would announce the victory to a breathless

world.

The bustling little social secretary again appeared, and briefly

announced the production of an opera in the auditorium, to which she

had come to conduct them. Passing through the little waiting room and

to the elevator, they quickly mounted to the unoccupied gallery of the

theater above. The parquet, which would seat nearly a thousand

spectators, was rapidly filling with an eager, curious throng. The

Ames trio and some of the more distinguished guests were already

occupying the gorgeously decorated boxes at the sides. An orchestra of

fifty pieces was visible in the hollow below the stage. Caroni, the

famous grand opera leader, stood ready to conduct. The opera itself

was the much discussed music drama, Salome.

"Now," commented Haynerd to his fair, wondering companion, who was

lost in contemplation of the magnificent mural decorations of the

little theater, "we will see something rare, for this opera has been

called the most artistic piece of indecency known to the stage. Good

heavens! Ames has got Marie Deschamps for the title rôle. She'll cost

him not less than five thousand dollars for this one night. And--see

here," drawing Carmen's attention to the bill, "Marcou and Corvalle

besides! The man must be made of money! These stars get three thousand

dollars a night during the regular season."

Every phase of sophistication was manifested in that glittering

audience when the curtain rose and the sensational theme was

introduced. But to none came thoughts like those which clamored for

admittance at the portals of Carmen's mentality. In the bold challenge

of the insanely sensual portrayal of a carnal mind the girl saw the

age-old defiance of the spirit by the flesh. In the rolls of the

wondrous music, in its shrieks, its pleadings, and its dying echoes,

she heard voiced again the soul-lament of a weary world searching

vainly in the mazes of human thought for truth. As the wonderful

Deschamps danced weirdly before her in the ghastly light and fell

gloating over her gory trophy, Carmen saw but the frantic struggles of

a diseased soul, portrayed as the skilled surgeon lays bare the

malignant growth that is eating the quivering tissues of a human

frame. The immodesty of dress, the sensual suggestiveness of the

dance, the brutal flouting of every element of refinement and

delicacy, blazoned in frenzied tone and movement the bloody orgy and

dance of death which goes on incessantly upon the stage of human life,

and ends in the mad whirl and confusion and insane gibbering over the

lifeless trophies for which mankind sell their very souls.

"About the limit of tolerance, eh?" commented Haynerd, when the final

curtain dropped. "Yes, even to a vitiated taste. The passionate thirst

for the sensational has led to this sickening display of salacity--"

"Splendid, wasn't it?" came in tones of admiration from the social

secretary, who had returned to conduct her charges back to the balcony

before the guests emerged from the theater. "You will run the program

in full, and comment at some length on the expense attached," she went

on. "You have just witnessed the private production of a full opera,

unabridged, and with the regular operatic cast. Supper will follow in

a half hour. Meantime, you will remain in the balcony where you were

before."

Returning to their former position, Carmen sank into a chair at the

little table behind the screen, and strove to orient her thought.

Haynerd sat down beside her to arrange his voluminous notes. Presently

footsteps were heard, and the sound of voices. Haynerd glanced through

the hinge of the screen. "Ha!" he whispered, "here comes Ames

and--who's with him? Ah, Representative Wales. Showing him about, I

suppose."

Carmen gazed at the approaching men with fascinated eyes, although she

saw but one, the towering magician who had reared this fairy palace.

She saw Ames lead his companion to the door of the little waiting room

at their right, and heard the congressman protest against entering.

"But we can talk undisturbed in here," urged Ames, his hand on the

door.

"Better remain out here on the balcony," replied the congressman

nervously, as he moved toward the railing.

Ames laughed and shrugged his enormous shoulders. He understood the

man's repugnance fully. But he humored him.

"You know, Wales," he said easily, going to the railing and peering

over at the brilliant assemblage below, "if I could get the heathen

Chinee to add an extra half-inch to his shirt length, I'd make a

hundred millions. And then, perhaps, I wouldn't need to struggle with

your Ways and Means Committee as I do. By the way, the cotton schedule

will be reported out unchanged, I presume." He turned and looked

quizzically at his companion as he said this.

Wales trembled slightly when he replied to the question he had been

awaiting. "I think not, Mr. Ames."

The giant's face clouded. "Parsons will vote for it," he said

suggestively. "What will you do?"

The congressman hesitated. "I--the party, Mr. Ames, is committed to

the high tariff principle. We can not let in a flood of foreign

cotton--"

"Then you want the fight between the farmers and spinners to continue,

eh?" interposed Ames cynically. "You don't seem to realize that in the

end both will get more money than they are getting now, and that it

will come from the consumer, who will pay vastly higher for his

finished products, in addition to the tariff. Do you get me?"

"It is a party principle, Mr. Ames," returned the congressman

tenaciously.

"Look here, Wales," said Ames, turning savagely upon his companion.

"The cotton farmers are organizing. They have got to be stopped. Their

coöperative associations must be smashed. The tariff schedule which

you have before your Committee will do it. And you are going to pass

it."

"Mr. Ames," replied the congressman, "I--I am opposed to the constant

manipulation of cotton by you rich men. I--"

"There," interrupted Ames, "never mind explaining your conscientious

scruples. What I want to know is, do you intend to cast your vote for

the unaltered schedule?"

"N--no, Mr. Ames, I can't--"

"H'm," murmured Ames. Then, with easy nonchalance, turning to an

apparently irrelevant topic as he gazed over the railing, "I heard

just before coming from my office this evening that the doors of the

Mercantile Trust would not open to-morrow. Too bad! A lot of my

personal friends are heavily involved. Bank's been shaky for some

time. Ames and Company will take over their tangible assets; I believe

you were interested, were you not?" He glanced at the trembling man

out of the corners of his eyes.

Wales turned ashen. His hands shook as he grasped the railing before

him and tried to steady himself.

"Hits you pretty hard, eh?" coolly queried Ames.

"It--it--yes--very hard," murmured the dazed man. "Are you--positive?"

"Quite. But step into the waiting room and 'phone the newspapers. They

will corroborate my statements."

Representative Wales was serving his first term in Congress. His

election had been a matter of surprise to everybody, himself included,

excepting Ames. Wales knew not that his detailed personal history had

been for many months carefully filed in the vaults of the Ames tower.

Nor did he ever suspect that his candidacy and election had been

matters of most careful thought on the part of the great financier

and his political associates. But when he, a stranger to congressional

halls, was made a member of the Ways and Means Committee, his

astonishment overleaped all bounds. Then Ames had smiled his own

gratification, and arranged that the new member should attend the

formal opening of the great Ames palace later in the year. Meantime,

the financier and the new congressman had met on several occasions,

and the latter had felt no little pride in the attention which the

great man had shown him.

And so the path to fame had unrolled steadily before the guileless

Wales until this night, when the first suspicions of his thraldom had

penetrated and darkened his thought. Then, like a crash from a clear

sky, had come the announcement of the Mercantile Trust failure. And as

he stood there now, clutching the marble railing, his thought busy

with the woman and the two fair children who would be rendered

penniless by this blow, the fell presence of the monster Ames seemed

to bend over him as the epitome of ruthless, brutal, inhuman cunning.

"How much are you likely to lose by this failure?" the giant asked.

Wales collected his scattered senses. "Not less than fifty thousand

dollars," he replied in a husky voice.

"H'm!" commented Ames. "Too bad! too bad! Well, let's go below. Ha!

what's this?" stooping and apparently taking up an object that had

been lying on the floor back of the congressman. "Well! well! your

bank book, Wales. Must have slipped from your pocket."

Wales took the book in a dazed, mechanical way. "Why--I have no--this

is not mine," he murmured, gazing alternately at the pass book and at

Ames.

"Your name's on it, at least," commented Ames laconically. "And the

book's been issued by our bank, Ames and Company. Guess you've

forgotten opening an account there, let me see, yes, a week ago." He

took the book and opened it. "Ah, yes, I recall the incident now.

There's your deposit, made last Friday."

Wales choked. What did it mean? The book, made out in his name on Ames

and Company, showed a deposit to his credit of fifty thousand

dollars!

Ames slipped his arm through the confused congressman's, and started

with him down the balcony. "You see," he said, as they moved away,

"the Mercantile failure will not hit you as hard as you thought. Now,

about that cotton schedule, when you cast your vote for it, be sure

that--" The voice died away as the men disappeared in the distance,

leaving Carmen and Haynerd staring blankly at each other.

"Well!" ejaculated Haynerd at length. "What now?"

"We must save them both," said Carmen quietly.

"I could make my everlasting fortune out of this!" exclaimed Haynerd

excitedly.

"And lose your soul," replied the girl. "But I will see Mr. Ames, and

tell him that we overheard his conversation. He will save us all."

Haynerd then smiled, but it was a hard smile, coming from one who knew

the world. "Listen, my dear girl," he said, "we will keep quiet, you

and I. To mention this would be only to court disaster at the hands of

one who would strangle us at the slightest intimation of our

knowledge. Can you not see the consequences to us?"

"I can see but the right," returned Carmen determinedly. "And the

right shall prevail!"

"But, my dear girl," cried Haynerd, now thoroughly alarmed both for

himself and her, "he would ruin us! This is no affair of ours. We had

no intention of hearing; and so let it be as if we had not heard."

"And let the lie of evil prevail? No, Mr. Haynerd, I could not, if I

would. Mr. Ames is being used by evil; and it is making him a channel

to ruin Mr. Wales. Shall I stand idly by and permit it? No!"

She rose, with a look of fixed resolution on her face. Haynerd sprang

to his feet and laid a detaining hand upon her arm. As he did so, the

screen was quickly drawn aside, and Kathleen Ames and two of her young

companions bent their curious gaze in upon them. Absorbed in their

earnest conversation, Carmen and Haynerd had not heard the approach of

the young ladies, who were on a tour of inspection of the house before

supper.

"Reporters for the Social Era, Miss Ames," explained Haynerd, hastily

answering the unspoken question, while he made a courteous bow.

But Kathleen had not heard him. "What--you!" she cried, instantly

recognizing Carmen, and drawing back. "How dared you! Oh!"

"What is it, dear?" asked one of the young ladies, as her eyes roved

over Carmen's tense, motionless figure.

"You--creature!" cried Kathleen, spurting her venom at Carmen, while

her eyes snapped angrily and her hands twitched. "When the front door

is closed against you, you sneak in through the back door! Leave this

house, instantly, or I shall have you thrown into the street!"

"Why, Kathleen dear!" exclaimed one of her companions. "She is only a

reporter!"

"She is a low, negro wench!" cried Kathleen maliciously. "She comes

from a brothel! She foisted herself upon society, and was discovered

and kicked out! Her father is a dirty negro priest, and her mother a

low--"

Haynerd rushed to the maddened girl and clapped his hand over her

mouth. "Hush, for God's sake, Miss Ames!" Then, to her companions,

"Take her away!" he pleaded. "And we will leave at once!"

But a house detective, attracted by the loud conversation, had come up

and interposed. At his signal another one approached. "Bring Mr.

Ames," he quietly commanded. "I can not put them out if they have his

permission to remain," he explained to the angry Kathleen.

In a few moments, during which the little group stood tense and quiet,

Ames himself appeared.

"Well?" he demanded. "Ah!" as his eyes lighted upon Carmen. "My little

girl! And--so this is your assistant?" turning inquiringly to Haynerd.

"By George! Her article in last week's Social Era was a corker. But,"

staring from Kathleen to the others, "what's the row?"

"I want that creature put out of the house!" demanded Kathleen,

trembling with rage and pointing to Carmen.

"Tut, tut," returned Ames easily. "She's on business, and has my

permission to remain. But, by George! that's a good joke," winking at

Haynerd and breaking into a loud laugh. "You put one over on us there,

old man!" he said.

"Father!" Scalding tears of anger and humiliation were streaming down

Kathleen's face. "If she remains, I shall go--I shall leave the

house--I will not stay under the same roof with the lewd creature!"

"Very well, then, run along," said Ames, taking the humiliated

Kathleen by the shoulders and turning her about. "I will settle this

without your assistance." Then he motioned to the house detectives to

depart, and turned to Haynerd and Carmen. "Come in here," he said,

leading the way to the little waiting room, and opening the door.

"Lord! but you belong down stairs with the rest," he ejaculated as he

faced Carmen, standing before him pale but unafraid. "There isn't one

down there who is in your class!" he exclaimed, placing his hands upon

her shoulders and looking down into her beautiful face. "And," he

continued with sudden determination, "I am going to take you down, and

you will sit at the table with me, as my special guest!"

A sudden fear gripped Haynerd, and he started to interpose. But Carmen

spoke first.

"Very well, Mr. Ames," she said quietly. "Take me down. I have a

question to ask Mr. Wales when we are at the table."

An expression of surprise and inquiry came into Ames's face. "Mr.

Wales?" he said wonderingly. "You mean Congressman--"

Then he stopped abruptly, and looked searchingly at Carmen and her

companion. Haynerd paled. Carmen stood unflinching. Ames's expression

of surprise gave place to one dark and menacing.

"You were behind that screen when Congressman Wales and I--"

"Yes," returned Carmen calmly. "I overheard all you said. I saw you

bribe him."

Ames stood like a huge, black cloud, glowering down upon the slender

girl. She looked up at him and smiled.

"You are going to tell him that the fifty thousand dollars are just a

loan, and that he may vote as he chooses, aren't you?" she said. "You

will not ruin his life, and the lives of his wife and babies, will

you? You would never be happy, you know, if you did." Her voice was as

quiet as the morning breeze.

"So!" the giant sneered. "You come into my house to play spy, eh? And

if I had not caught you when I did you would have written another

interesting article for the Social Era, wouldn't you? By God! I'll

break you, Haynerd, and your infernal sheet into a million pieces if

you dare print any such rot as this! And as for you, young lady--"

"You can do nothing to me, Mr. Ames; and you don't really want to,"

said Carmen quickly. "My reputation, you know--that is, the one which

you people have given me--is just as black as it could be, isn't it?

So that is safe." She laughed lightly.

Then she became very serious again. "It doesn't really make any

difference to you, Mr. Ames," she said, "whether the cotton schedule

is passed or not. You still have your millions--oh, so much more

than you will ever know what to do with! But Mr. Wales, he has his

wife and his babies and his good reputation--would you rob him of

those priceless treasures, just to make a few dollars more for

yourself?--dollars that you can't spend, and that you won't let

others have?"

During the girl's quiet talk Ames was regaining his self-control. When

she concluded he turned to Haynerd. "Miss Carmen can step out into the

balcony. You and I will arrange this matter together," he said.

Carmen moved toward the door.

"Now," said Ames significantly, and in a low voice, "what's your

price?"

Instantly the girl turned back and threw herself between the two men.

"He is not for sale!" she cried, her eyes flashing as she confronted

Ames.

"Then, by God!" shouted Ames, who had lost himself completely, "I will

crush him like a dirty spider! And you, I'll drag you through the

gutters and make your name a synonym of all that is vile in

womanhood!"

Carmen stepped quietly to the elevator and pressed the signal button.

"You shall not leave this house!" cried the enraged Ames, starting

toward her. "Or you'll go under arrest!"

The girl drew herself up with splendid dignity, and faced him

fearlessly. "We _shall_ leave your house, and now, Mr. Ames!" she

said. "You and that for which you stand can not touch us! The carnal

mind is back of you! Omnipotent God is with us!"

She moved away from him, then turned and stood for a moment, flashing,

sparkling, radiant with a power which he could not comprehend. "You

know not what you do. You are blinded and deceived by human lust and

greed. But the god you so ignorantly worship now will some day totter

and fall upon you. Then you will awake, and you will see your present

life as a horrid dream."

The elevator appeared. Carmen and the dazed Haynerd stepped quickly

into it and descended without opposition to the lower floor. A few

moments later they were again in the street and hurrying to the

nearest car line.

"Girlie," said Haynerd, mopping the perspiration from his brow, "we're

in for it now--and I shall be crushed! But you--I think your God will

save you."

Carmen took his hand. "His arm is not shortened," she murmured, "that

He can not save us both."

CHAPTER 5

ON the Monday morning following the Ames reception the society columns

of the daily papers still teemed with extravagant depictions of the

magnificent affair. On that same morning, while Haynerd sat gloomily

in the office of the Social Era, meditating on his giant adversary's

probable first move, Carmen, leaving her studies and classes, sought

out an unpretentious home in one of the suburbs of the city, and for

an hour or more talked earnestly with the timid, frightened little

wife of Congressman Wales. Then, her work done, she dismissed the

whole affair from her mind, and hastened joyously back to the

University. She would have gone to see Ames himself. "But," she

reflected, as she dwelt on his conduct and words of the previous

Saturday evening, "he is not ready for it yet. And when he is, I will

go to him. And Kathleen--well, I will help her by seeing only the real

child of God, which was hidden that night by the veil of hatred and

jealousy. And that veil, after all, is but a shadow."

That evening the little group of searchers after God assembled again

in the peaceful precincts of the Beaubien cottage. It was their third

meeting, and they had come together reverently to pursue the most

momentous inquiry that has ever stimulated human thought.

Haynerd and Carmen had said little relative to the Ames reception; but

the former, still brooding over the certain consequences of his brush

with Ames, was dejected and distraught. Carmen, leaning upon her

sustaining thought, and conceding no mite of power or intelligence to

evil, glowed like a radiant star.

"What are you listening to?" she asked of Haynerd, drawing him to one

side. "Are you giving ear to the voices of evil, or good? Which are

you making real to yourself? For those thoughts which are real to you

will become outwardly manifested, you know."

"Bah! He's got us--tight!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture signifying

defeat. "And the insults of that arrogant daughter of his--"

"She did not insult me," said Carmen quickly. "She could not, for she

doesn't know me. She merely denounced her concept of me, and not my

real self. She vilified what she thought was Carmen Ariza; but it was

only her own thought of me that she insulted. Can't you see? And such

a concept of me as she holds deserves denouncing, doesn't it?"

"Well, what are we going to do?" he pursued testily.

"We are going to know," she whispered, "that we two with God

constitute an overwhelming majority." She said nothing about her visit

to the Wales home that morning, but pressed his hand, and then went to

take her place at the table, where Father Waite was already rapping

for order.

"My friends," began that earnest young man, looking lovingly about at

the little group, "as we are gathered here we symbolize that

analytical, critical endeavor of the unbiased human mind to discover

the essence of religion. Religion is that which binds us to absolute

truth, and so is truth itself. If there is a God, we believe from our

former investigations that He must be universal mind. This belief

carries with it as necessary corollaries the beliefs that He must be

perfect, eternal, and self-existent. The question, Who made God? must

then receive its sufficient answer in the staggering statement that He

has always existed, unchanged and unchangeable."

A sigh from Haynerd announced that quizzical soul's struggle to grasp

a statement at once so radical and stupendous.

"True," continued Father Waite, addressing himself to his doubting

friend, "the acceptance as fact of what we have deduced in our

previous meetings must render the God of orthodox theology quite

obsolete. But, as a compensation, it gives to us the most enlarged and

beautiful concept of Him that we have ever had. It ennobles, broadens,

purifies, and elevates our idea of Him. It destroys forever our

belittling view of Him as but a magnified human character, full of

wrath and caprice and angry threats, and delighting in human

ceremonial and religious thaumaturgy. And, most practical of all for

us, it renders the age-long problem of evil amenable to solution."

Just then came a ring at the front door; and a moment later the

Beaubien ushered Doctor Morton into the room. All rose and hastened to

welcome him.

"I--I am sure," began the visitor, looking at Carmen, "that I am not

intruding, for I really come on invitation, you know. Miss Carmen,

first; and then, our good friend Hitt, who told me this afternoon that

you would probably meet this evening. I--I pondered the matter some

little time--ah, but--well, to make it short, I couldn't keep away

from a gathering so absolutely unique as this--I really couldn't."

Carmen seized both his hands. "My!" she exclaimed, her eyes dancing,

"I am glad you came."

"And I, too," interposed Haynerd dryly, "for now we have two

theological Philistines. I was feeling a bit lonely."

"Ah, my friend," replied the doctor, "I am simply an advocate of

religious freedom, not a--"

"And religious freedom, as our wise Bill Nye once said, is but the art

of giving intolerance a little more room, eh?" returned Haynerd with a

laugh.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "You are a Philistine," he said. "I

am a human interrogation."

Carmen took the doctor by the arm and led him to a place beside her at

the table. "You--you didn't bring poor Yorick?" she whispered, with a

glint of mischief in her bright eyes.

"No," laughed the genial visitor, "he's a dead one, you told me."

"Yes," replied the girl, "awfully dead! He is an outward manifestation

of dead human beliefs, isn't he? But now listen, Father Waite is going

to speak."

After a brief explanation to the doctor of the purpose of the

meeting, and a short résumé of their previous deductions, Father Waite

continued the exposition of his subject.

"The physical universe," he said, "is to human beings a reality. And

yet, according to Spencer's definition of reality, we must admit that

the universe as we see it is quite unreal. For the real is that which

endures."

"And you mean to say that the universe will not endure?" queried

Haynerd abruptly.

"I do," replied Father Waite. "The phenomena of the universe, even as

we see it, are in a state of ceaseless change. Birth, growth,

maturity, decay, and death seems to be the law for all things

material. There is perpetual genesis, and perpetual exodus."

"But," again urged Haynerd, "matter itself remains, is indestructible."

"Not so," said Father Waite. "Our friend, Doctor Morton, will

corroborate my statement, I am sure."

The doctor nodded. "It is quite true," he said in reply. "And as

revolutionary as true. The discovery, in the past few years, of the

tremendously important fact that matter disintegrates and actually

disappears, has revolutionized all physical science and rendered the

world's text books obsolete."

"And matter actually disappears?" echoed Miss Wall incredulously.

"Absolutely!" interposed Hitt. "The radium atom, we find, lasts some

seventeen hundred years, or a trifle longer. What becomes of it when

it is destroyed? We can only say that it disappears from human

consciousness."

"And so you reason that the whole material universe will ultimately

disappear from the human consciousness?"

"Yes," returned Hitt, "I feel certain of it. Let us consider of what

the universe consists. For many months I have been pondering this

topic incessantly. I find that I can agree, in a measure, with those

scientists who regard the physical universe as composed of only a few

elementary constituents, namely, matter, energy, space, and time--"

"Each one of these elements is mental," interrupted Carmen.

"Exactly!" replied Hitt. "And the physical universe, even from the

human standpoint, is, therefore, wholly mental."

"Well, but we see it!" ejaculated Haynerd. "And we feel and hear it!

And I'm sure we smell it!"

Hitt laughed. "Do we?" he asked.

"No," interposed Father Waite; "we see only our mental concept of a

universe, for seeing is wholly a mental process. Our comprehension of

anything is entirely mental."

"But now," resumed Hitt, "to get back to the supposed reality of the

physical universe, let us examine its constituents. First, let us

consider its unity established by the harmonious interplay of the

forces permeating it. This great fact is what led Herbert Spencer to

conclude that the universe could have but one creator, one ruler, and

that polytheism was untenable."

"We are quite agreed regarding that," said Father Waite. "If the

Creator is mind, He is of very necessity infinite and omnipotent;

hence there can be but one Creator."

"Very well," continued Hitt. "Now as to time. Is it material or

tangible? Would it exist, but as a convenience for the human mind? Is

it not really a creation of that mind? And, lastly, is it not merely a

mental concept?"

"Our consciousness of time," replied Carmen, "is only our awareness of

a continuous series of mental states."

"That classifies it exactly," said Hitt, "and renders it wholly

mental. And now as to space," he resumed. "We are accustomed to say,

loosely, that space is that in which we see things about us. But in

what does the process of seeing consist? I say, I see a chair. What I

really mean is that I am conscious of a chair. The process of seeing,

we are told, is this: light, coming from the chair, enters the eye and

casts an image of the chair upon the retina, much as a picture is

thrown upon the ground glass of a camera. Then, in some way, the

little rods and cones--the branching tips of the optic nerve which

project from the retina--are set in motion by the light-waves. This

vibration is in some mysterious manner carried along the optic nerve

to a center in the brain, and--well, then the mind becomes cognizant

of the chair out there, that's all."

They sat silent for some moments. Then Miss Wall spoke. "Do you mean

to say," she queried, "that, after thousands of years of thought and

investigation, mankind now know nothing more than that about the

process of seeing?"

"I do," returned Hitt. "I confess it in all humility."

"Then all I've got to say," put in Haynerd, "is that the most

remarkable thing about you learned men is your ignorance!"

The doctor smiled. "I find it is only the fool who is cocksure," he

replied.

"Now," said Hitt, resuming the conversation, "let us go a step further

and inquire, first, What is light? since the process of seeing is

absolutely dependent upon it."

"Light," offered the doctor, "is vibrations, or wave-motion, so

physicists tell us."

"Just so," resumed Hitt. "Light, we say, consists of vibrations. Not

vibrations of anything tangible or definitely material, but--well,

just vibrations in the abstract. It is vibratory or wave motion. Now

let us concede that these vibrations in some way get to the brain

center; and then let us ask, Is the mind there, in the brain, awaiting

the arrival of these vibrations to inform it that there is a chair

outside?"

Haynerd indulged in a cynical laugh.

"It is too serious for laughter, my friend," said Hitt. "For to such

crude beliefs as this we may attribute all the miseries of mankind."

"How is that?" queried Miss Wall in surprise.

"Simply because these beliefs constitute the general belief in a

universe of matter without and about us. As a plain statement of fact,

_there is no such thing_. But, I ask again, Is the mind within the

brain, waiting for vibrations that will give it information concerning

the external world? Or does the mind, from some focal point without

the brain, look first at these vibrations, and then translate them

into terms of things without? Do these vibrations in some way suggest

form and color and substance to the waiting mind? Does the mind first

look at vibrating nerve-points, and then form its own opinions

regarding material objects? Does anything material enter the eye?"

"No," admitted the doctor; "unless we believe that vibrations _per se_

are material."

"Now I ask, Is the mind reduced to such slavery that it must depend

upon vibrations for its knowledge of an outside world?" continued

Hitt. "And vibrations of minute pieces of flesh, at that! Flesh that

will some day decay and leave the mind helpless!"

"Absurd!" exclaimed Haynerd. "Why doesn't the mind look directly at

the chair, instead of getting its knowledge of the chair through

vibrations of bits of meat? Or isn't there any chair out there to look

at?"

"There!" exclaimed Hitt. "Now you've put your mental finger upon it.

And now we are ready to nail to the cross of ignominy one of the

crudest, most insensate beliefs of the human race. _The human mind

gets nothing whatsoever from vibrations, from the human, fleshly eye,

nor from any one of the five so-called physical senses!_ The physical

sense-testimony which mankind believe they receive from the eyes, the

ears, and the other sense organs, can, even at best, consist only of a

lot of disconnected, unintelligible vibrations; and anything that the

mind may infer from such vibrations is inferred _without any outside

authority whatsoever!"_

"Well!" ejaculated Miss Wall and Haynerd in a breath.

"And, further," continued Hitt, "we are forced to admit that all that

the mind knows is the contents of itself, of its own consciousness,

and nothing more. Then, instead of seeing, hearing, and feeling real

material objects outside of ourselves, we are in reality seeing,

hearing, and feeling our own mental concepts of things--in other

words, _our own thoughts of things!"_

A deep silence lay for some moments over the little group at the

conclusion of Hitt's words. Then Doctor Morton nodded his acquiescence

in the deduction. "And that," he said, "effectually disposes of the

question of space."

"There is no space, Doctor," replied Hitt. "Space is likewise a mental

concept. The human mind sees, hears, and feels nothing but its own

thoughts. These it posits within itself with reference to one another,

and calls the process 'seeing material objects in space.' The mind as

little needs a space in which to see things as in which to dream them.

I repeat, we do not see external things, or things outside of

ourselves. We see always and only the thoughts that are within our own

mentalities. Everything is within."

"That's why," murmured Carmen, "Jesus said, 'The kingdom of heaven is

within you.'"

"Exactly!" said Hitt. "Did he not call evil, and all that originates

in matter, the lie about God? And a lie is wholly mental. I tell you,

the existence of a world outside of ourselves, an objective world

composed of matter, is wholly inferred--it is mental visualizing--and

it is unreal, for it is not based upon fact, upon truth!"

"Then," queried Haynerd, "our supposed 'outer world' is but our

collection of thought-concepts which we hold within us, within our own

consciousness, eh?"

"Yes."

"But--the question of God?"

"We are ready for that again," replied Hitt. "We have said that in the

physical universe all is in a state of incessant change. Since the

physical universe is but a mental concept to each one of us, we must

admit that, were the concept based upon truth, it would not change.

Our concept of the universe must be without the real causative and

sustaining principle of all reality, else would it not pass away. And

yet, beneath and behind all these changes, _something_ endures. What

is it? Matter? No. There is an enduring substance, invisible to human

sight, but felt and known through its own influence. Is it law? Yes.

Mind? Yes. Ideas? Yes. But none of these things is in any sense

material. The material is the fleeting, human concept, composed of

thought that is _not_ based upon reality. These other things, wholly

mental, or spiritual, if you prefer, are based upon that 'something'

which does endure, and which I will call the Causative Principle. It

is the Universal Mind. It is what you loosely call God."

"Then did God make matter?" persisted Haynerd.

"I think," interposed Doctor Morton at this juncture, "that I can

throw some light upon the immaterial character of matter, if I may so

put it; for even our physical reasoning throws it entirely into the

realm of the mental."

"Good!" exclaimed Hitt. "Let us hear from you, Doctor."

The doctor sat for some moments in a deep study. Then he began:

"The constitution of matter, speaking now from an admittedly

materialistic standpoint, that of the physical sciences, is a subject

of vastest interest and importance to mankind, for human existence

_is_ material.

"The ultimate constituent of matter has been called the atom. But we

have said little when we have said that. The atom was once defined as

a particle of matter so minute as to admit of no further division.

That definition has gone to the rubbish heap, for the atom can now be

torn to pieces. But--and here is the revolutionary fact in modern

physical science--_it is no longer held necessary that matter should

consist of material particles!_ In fact, the great potential discovery

of our day is that matter is electrical in composition, that it is

composed of what are called 'electrons,' and that these electrons are

themselves composed of electric charges. But what is an electric

charge? Is it matter? No, not as we know matter. Is it even material?

We can not say that it is. It is without weight, bulk, dimensions, or

tangibility. Well, then, it comes dangerously near being a mental

thing, known to the human mind solely by its manifestations, does it

not? And of course our comprehension of it is entirely mental, as is

our comprehension of everything."

He paused for a moment, that his words might be fully grasped. Then he

went on:

"Now these atoms, whatever they are, are supposed to join together to

form molecules. What brings them together thus? Affinity, we are told.

And what is affinity? Why, it is--well, law, if you please. And law? A

mental thing, we must admit. Very good. Then, going a step further,

molecules are held together by cohesion to form material objects,

chairs, trees, coal, and the like. But what is cohesion? Is it glue?

Cement? Ah, no! Again, it is law. And law is mental."

"But, Doctor--" interrupted Haynerd.

The doctor held up a detaining hand. "Let me finish," he said. "Now we

have the very latest word from our physical scientists regarding the

constitution of matter: _it is composed of electric charges, held

together by law._ Again, you may justly ask: Is matter material--or

mental?"

He paused again, and took up a book that lay before him.

"Here," he continued, "I hold a solid, material, lumpy thing,

composed, you will say, of matter. And yet, in essence, and if we can

believe our scientists, this book is composed of billions of electric

charges--invisible things, without form, without weight, without

color, without extension, held together by law, and making up a

material object which has mass, color, weight, and extension. From

millions of things which are invisible and have no size, we get an

object, visible and extended."

"It's absurd!" exclaimed Miss Wall.

"Granted," interposed Hitt. "Yet, the doctor is giving the very latest

deductions of the great scientists."

"But, Doctor," said Father Waite, "the scientists tell us that they

have experimental evidence in support of the theories which you have

stated regarding the composition of matter. Electricity has been

proven granular, or atomic, in structure. And every electrical

charge consists of an exact number of electrical atoms spread out

over the surface of the charged body. All this admits of definite

calculation."

"Admitted," said Hitt, taking up the challenge. "And their very

calculations and deductions are rapidly wearing away the 'materialistic

theory' of matter. You will admit that mathematics is wholly

confined to the realm of mind. It is a strictly mental science, in no

way material. It loses definiteness when 'practically' applied to

material objects. Kant saw this, and declared that a science might be

regarded as further removed from or nearer to perfection in proportion

to the amount of mathematics it contained. Now there has been an

astonishing confirmation of this great truth just lately. At a banquet

given in honor of the discoverer of wireless telegraphy it was stated

that the laws governing the traversing of space by the invisible

electric waves were more exact than the general laws of physics,

where very complex formulas and coefficients are required for

correcting the general laws, due to surrounding material conditions.

The greater exactness of laws governing the invisible electric waves

was said to be due to the absence of matter. And it was further

stated that _whenever matter had to be taken into consideration there

could be no exact law of action!"_ "Which shows--?"

"That matter admits of no definite laws," replied Hitt. "That there

are no real laws of matter. And that definiteness is attained only as

we dematerialize matter itself."

"In other words, get into the realm of the mental?"

"Just so. And now for the application. I have said that we do not

receive any testimony whatsoever through the so-called material

senses, but that we see, hear, feel, taste, and smell our own

thoughts--that is, the thoughts which, from some source, come into our

mentalities. Very well, our scientists show us that, as they get

farther away from dense material thoughts, and deal more and more with

those which have less material structure, less material composition,

their laws become more definite, more exact. Following this out to its

ultimate conclusion, we may say, then, that _only those laws which

have to do with the non-material are perfect_."

"And those," said Carmen, "are the laws of mind."

"Exactly! And now the history of physical science shows that there has

been a constant deviation from the old so-called fixed 'laws of

matter.' The law of impenetrability has had to go. A great physicist

tells us that, when dealing with sufficiently high speeds, matter has

no such property as impenetrability. Mass is a function of velocity.

The law of indestructibility has had to go. Matter deteriorates and

goes to pieces. The material elements are not fixed. The decided

tendency of belief is toward a single element, of which all matter is

composed, and of which the eighty-odd constituent elements of matter

accepted to-day are but modifications. That unit element may be the

ether, of course. And the great Russian chemist, Mendeleef, so

believed. But to us, the ether is a mental thing, a theory. But,

granting its existence, _its universal penetrability renders matter,

as we know it, non-existent_. Everything reduces to the ether, in the

final analysis. And all energy becomes vibrations in and of the

ether."

"And the ether," supplemented the doctor, "has to be without mass,

invisible, tasteless, intangible, much more rigid than steel, and at

the same time some six hundred billion times lighter than air, in

order to fulfill all the requirements made of it and to meet all

conditions."

"Yes; and yet the ether is a very necessary theory, if we are going to

continue to explain the phenomena of force on a material basis."

"But if we abandon that basis--?"

"Then," said Carmen, "matter reduces to what it really is, the human

mind's _interpretation_ of substance."

"Yes," said Hitt, turning to her; "I think you are right; matter is

the way real substance--let us say, spirit--looks to the human

mentality. It is the way the human mind interprets its ideas of

spirit. In other words, the human mind looks at the material thoughts

and ideas which enter it, and calls them solid substance, occupying

space--calls them matter, with definite laws, and, in certain forms,

containing life and intelligence."

"Aye, that is it!" said Father Waite. "And that has been the terrible

mistake of the ages, the one great error, the one lie, that has caused

us all to miss the mark and come short, far short, of the glory of the

mind that is God. _There is the origin of the problem of evil!_"

"Undoubtedly," replied Hitt. "For evil is in essence but evil thought.

And evil thought is invariably associated with matter. The origin of

all evil is matter itself. And matter, we find, is but a mental

concept, a thing of thought. Oh, the irony of it!"

"Well," put in Haynerd, who had been twitching nervously in his chair,

"let's get to the conclusion of this very learned discussion. I'm a

plain man, and I'd like to know just where we've landed. What have you

said that I can take home with me? The earth still revolves around the

sun, even if it is a mean mud ball. And I can't see that I can get

along with less than three square meals a day."

"We have arrived," replied Hitt gravely, "at a most momentous

conclusion, deduced by the physical scientists themselves, namely,

that _things are not what they seem_. In other words, all things

material seem to reduce to vibrations in and of the ether; the basis

of all materiality is energy, motion, activity--mental things. All the

elements of matter seem to be but modifications of one all-pervading

element. That element is probably the ether, often called the 'mother

of matter.' The elements, such as carbon, silicon, and the others, are

not elementary at all, but are forms of one universal element, the

ether. Hence, atoms are not atoms. The so-called rare elements are

rare only because their lives are short. They disintegrate rapidly and

change into other forms of the universal element--or disappear. 'Atoms

are but fleeting phases of matter,' we are told. They are by no means

eternal, even though they may endure for millions of years."

"Y-e-s?" commented Haynerd with a yawn.

"A great scientist of our own day," Hitt continued, "has said that

'the ether is so modified as to constitute matter, in some way.' What

does that mean? Simply that 'visible matter and invisible ether are

one and the same thing.' But to the five so-called physical senses the

ether is utterly incomprehensible. So, then, matter is wholly

incomprehensible to the five physical senses. What is it, then, that

we call matter? It can be nothing more than the human mind's

interpretation of its idea of an all-pervading, omnipresent

_something_, a something which represents substance to it."

"Let me add a further quotation from the great physical scientist to

whom you have referred," said the doctor. "He has said that the ether

is _not_ matter, but that it is material. And further, that we can not

deny that the ether may have some mental and spiritual functions to

subserve in some other order of existence, as matter has in this. It

is wholly unrelated to any of our senses. The sense of sight takes

cognizance of it, but only in a very indirect and not easily

recognized way. And yet--stupendous conclusion!--_without the ether

there could be no material universe at all_!"

"In other words," said Hitt, "the whole fabric of the material

universe depends upon something utterly unrecognizable by the five

physical senses."

"Exactly!" replied the doctor.

"Then," concluded Hitt, "the physical senses give us no information

whatsoever of a real physical universe about us."

"And so," added Father Waite, "we come back to Carmen's statement,

namely, that seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling are

mental processes, in no way dependent upon the outer fleshly organs of

sense--"

"Nonsense!" interjected Haynerd. "Why is it, then, that if the eyes

are destroyed we do not see?"

"Simply, my friend, because of human belief," replied Hitt. "The human

mind has been trained for untold centuries to dependence upon beliefs

in the reality of matter, and beliefs in its dependence upon material

modes for sight, hearing, touch, and so on. It is because of its

erroneous beliefs that the human mind is to-day enslaved by matter,

and dependent upon it for its very sense of existence. The human mind

has made its sense of sight dependent upon a frail, pulpy bit of

flesh, the eye. As long as that fleshly organ remains intact, the

human mind sees its sense of sight externalized in the positing of its

mental concepts about it as natural objects. But let that fleshly eye

be destroyed, and the human mind sees its belief of dependence upon

the material eye externalized as blindness. When the fleshly eye is

gone the mind declares that it can no longer see. And what it declares

as truth, as fact, becomes externalized to it. I repeat, the human

mind sees and hears only its thoughts, its beliefs. And holding to

these beliefs, and making them real to itself, it eventually sees them

externalized in what it calls its outer world, its environment, its

universe. And yet, the materialistic scientists themselves show that

the human mind can take no cognizance whatever through the five

physical senses of the all-pervading basis of its very existence, the

ether. And the ether--alas! it is but a theory which we find necessary

for any intelligible explanation of the farce of human existence on a

material basis."

"Now see here!" retorted Haynerd, rising and giving expression to his

protest by means of emphatic gestures. "I'm getting mixed--badly! You

tell me that the existence of things demands a creator, and I admit

it, for there can be no effect without a cause. Then you say that the

universe is infinite; and I admit that, too, for the science of

astronomy finds no limits to space, and no space unoccupied. You say

that the unity manifested in the universe proves that there can be but

one creator. Moreover, to create an infinite universe there must needs

be an omnipotent creator; and there can be but one who is omnipotent.

I cordially agree. Further, I can see how that creator must be

mind--infinite mind. And I can see why that mind must be absolutely

perfect, with no intelligence of evil whatsoever, else would it be a

house divided against itself. And such a house must eventually fall.

Now I admit that the universe must be the manifestation, the

expression, of that infinite creative mind. But--and here's the

sticking point--the universe is both good and evil! Hence, the mind

which it manifests is likewise both good and evil--and the whole

pretty theory blows up!"

He sat down abruptly, with the air of having given finality to a

perplexing question.

All eyes then turned to Carmen, who slowly rose and surveyed the

little group.

"It is not surprising," she said, smiling at the confused Haynerd,

"that difficulties arise when you attempt to reach God through human

reasoning--spirit through matter. You have taken the unreal, and,

through it, have sought to reach back to the real."

"Well," interrupted Haynerd testily, "kindly explain the difference."

"Then, first," replied Carmen, "let us adopt some common meeting

ground, some basis which we can all accept, and from which we can

rise. Are you all agreed that, in our every-day life, everything is

mental?--every action?--every object?--and that, as the philosopher

Mill said, 'Everything is a feeling of which the mind is conscious'?

Let me illustrate my meaning," she continued, noting Haynerd's rising

protest. "I see this book; I take it up; and drop it upon the table.

Have I really seen a book? No; I have been conscious of thoughts which

I call a book, nothing more. A real material book did not get into my

mind; but _thoughts_ of a book did. And the activity of such thought

resulted in a state of consciousness--for consciousness is mental

activity, the activity of thought. Remember that, even according to

your great physical scientists, this book is composed of millions of

charges of electricity, or electrons, moving at a tremendously high

rate of speed. And yet, regardless of its composition, I am conscious

only of my thoughts of the book. It is but my thoughts that I see,

after all."

She paused and waited for the protest which was not voiced.

"Very well," she said, continuing; "so it is with the sense of touch;

I had the thought of touching it, and that thought I saw; I was

conscious of it when it became active in my mentality. So with sound;

when I let the book drop, I was conscious of my thought of sound. If

the book had been dropped in a vacuum I should not have been conscious

of a thought of sound--why? Because, as Mr. Hitt has told us, the

human mind has made its sense-testimony dependent upon vibrations. And

yet, there is a clock ticking up there on the wall. Do you hear it?"

"Yes," replied Haynerd; "now that you've called my attention to it."

"Ah, yes," replied the girl. "You hear it when your thought is

directed to it. And yet the air was vibrating all the time, and, if

hearing is dependent upon the fleshly ear, you should have heard it

incessantly when you were not thinking of it, as well as you hear it

now when you are thinking of it. Am I not right?"

"Well, perhaps so," assented Haynerd with some reluctance.

"We hear, see, and feel," continued the girl, "when our thought is

directed to these processes. And the processes are wholly mental--they

take place within our mentalities--and it is there, within our minds,

that we see, hear, and feel _all_ things. And it is there, within our

minds, that the universe exists for us. It is there that we hold our

world, our fleshly bodies, everything that we call material. _The

universe that we think we see all about us consists of the mental

concepts, made up of thought, which we hold within our mentalities_."

Haynerd nodded somewhat dubiously. Carmen proceeded with the

exposition of her theme.

"Whence come these material thoughts that are within us? And are they

real? Can we control them? And how? They are real to us, at any rate,

are they not? And if they are thoughts of pain and suffering and

death, they are terribly real to us. But let us see, now that we can

reason from the basis of the mental nature of all things. We have

agreed that the creative principle is mind, and we call it God. This

infinite mind constantly expresses and manifests itself in ideas. Why,

that is a fundamental law of mind! You express yourself in your ideas

and thoughts, which you try to externalize materially. But the

infinite mind expresses itself in an infinite number and variety of

ideas, all, like itself, pure, perfect, eternal, good, without any

elements or seeds of decay or discord. And the incessant expression of

the creative mind in and through its numberless ideas constitutes the

never-ending process of creation."

"Let me add here," interrupted Hitt, "that the Bible states that God

created the heavens and earth in seven days. But numbers, we must

remember, were mystical things to the ancient Hebrews, and were

largely used symbolically. The number seven, for example, was used to

express wholeness, completeness. So we must remember that its use in

Genesis has a much wider meaning than its absurd theological

interpretation into seven solar days. As Carmen says, the infinite

creative mind can never cease to express itself; creation can never

cease; and creation is but the whole, complete revelation or

unfoldment of infinite mind's ideas."

"And infinite mind," continued Carmen, "requires infinite time in

which to completely express itself. So time ceases to be, and we find

that all real things exist now, in an endless present. Now, the ideas

of infinite mind range throughout the realm of infinity, but the

greatest idea that the creative mind can have is the idea of itself.

That idea is the image and likeness of the infinite creative mind. It

is the perfect reflection of that mind--its perfect expression. That

idea is what the man Jesus always saw back of the human concept of

man. _That idea is the real man_!"

"Well!" exclaimed Haynerd. "That's quite a different proposition from

the mud-men that I do business with daily. What are they? Children of

God?"

"If they were real," said Carmen, "they would have to be children of

God. But then they would not be 'mud-men.' Now I have just spoken of

the real, the spiritual creation. That is the creation mentioned in

the first chapter of Genesis, where all was created--revealed,

unfolded--by God, and He saw that it was perfect, good. 'In the

beginning,' says the commentator. That is, 'To begin with--God.'

Everything begins with God in the realm of the real. The creative mind

is first. And the creation, or unfoldment, is like its creative

principle, eternal and good."

"But," persisted Haynerd, "how about the material man?"

"Having created all things spiritually," continued the girl, "was it

necessary that the creative mind should repeat its work, do it over

again, and produce the man of dust described in the second chapter of

Genesis? Is that second account of the creation an inspiration of

truth--or a human comment?"

"Call it what you will," said the cynical Haynerd; "the fact remains

that the mud-man exists and has to be reckoned with."

"Both of your premises are wholly incorrect," returned the girl

gently. "He does _not_ exist, excepting in human, mortal thought. He

is a product of only such thought. He and his material universe are

seen and dealt with only in such thought. And such thought is the

direct antithesis of God's thought. And it is therefore unreal. It is

the supposition, the lie, the mist that went up and darkened the

earth."

"But--the human man--?"

"Is just what you have said, a hue of a man, a dark hue, the shadowy

opposite which seems to counterfeit the real, spiritual man and claim

all his attributes. He is not a compound of mind and matter, for we

have seen that all things are mental, even matter itself. He is a sort

of mentality, a counterfeit of real mind. His body and his universe

are in himself. And, like all that is unreal, he is transient,

passing, ephemeral, mortal."

"Yet, God made him!"

"No, for he does not exist, excepting in supposition. Does a

supposition really exist? If so, then not even truth can destroy it.

But supposition passes out before truth. No, the human mind is the

'old man' of Paul. He is to be put off by knowing his nothingness, and

by knowing the unreality of his supposed material environment and

universe. As he goes out of consciousness, the real man, the idea of

God, perfect, harmonious, and eternal, comes in."

"And there," said Father Waite impressively, "you have the whole

scheme of salvation, as enunciated by the man Jesus."

"There is no doubt of it," added Hitt. "And, oh, my friends! how

futile, how base, how worse than childish now appear the whole

theological fabric of the churches, their foolish man-made dogmas,

their insensate beliefs in a fiery hell and a golden heaven. Oh, how

belittling now appear their concepts of God--a God who can damn

unbaptised infants, who can predestine his children to eternal sorrow,

who creates and then curses his handiwork! Do you wonder that sin,

sorrow, and death remain among us while such awful beliefs hold sway

over the human mind? God help us, and the world!"

Haynerd, who had been sitting quietly for some moments, deep in

thought, rose and held out his hands, as if in entreaty. "Don't--don't!"

he exclaimed. "I can't hear any more. I want to think it all over.

It seems--it seems as if a curtain had been raised suddenly. And what I

see beyond is--"

Carmen went swiftly to the man and slipped an arm about him. "That

infinite creative Mind, so misunderstood and misinterpreted by human

beings, is back of you," she whispered. "And it is Love."

Haynerd turned and grasped her hands. "I believe it," he murmured.

"But had I not seen the proof in you, no amount of reasoning would

have convinced me." And, bowing to the little group, he went out.

"Well?" said Hitt, turning inquiringly to the doctor.

The latter raised his head. "If these things are true," he made answer

slowly, "then I shall have to recast my entire mentality, my whole

basis of thinking."

"It is just what you _must_ do, Doctor, if you would work out your

salvation," said Carmen. "Jesus said we must repent if we would be

saved. Repentance--the Greek _metanoia_--means a complete and radical

change of thought."

"But--do you mean to say that the whole world has been mistaken? That

the entire human race has been deceived for ages?"

"Why," said Hitt, "it was only in our own day, comparatively speaking,

that the human race was undeceived in regard to the world being round.

And there are thousands of human beings to-day who still believe in

witchcraft, and who worship the sun and moon, and whose lives are

wholly under the spell of superstition. Human character, a great

scientist tells us, has not changed since history began."

"But we can't revamp our thought-processes!"

"Then we must go on missing the mark, sinning, suffering, sorrowing,

and dying, over and over and over again, until we decide that we can

do so," said Hitt.

The doctor looked at Carmen and met that same smile of unbounded love

which she gave without stint to a sin-weary world.

"I--I'll come again," he said. "When? To-morrow night?"

"Yes," said Carmen, rising and coming around to him. "And," in a

whisper, "bring Pat."

CHAPTER 6

The Social Era had for many years made its weekly appearance every

Saturday morning, that its fashionable clientele might appease their

jaded appetites on the Sabbath day by nibbling at its spicy pabulum.

But, though the Ames reception had fallen on a Saturday night, the

following Friday morning found the columns of the Era still awaiting

a report of the notable affair. For Haynerd's hand seemed paralyzed.

Whenever he set his pen to the task, there loomed before him only the

scene in the little waiting room, and he could write of nothing else.

He found himself still dwelling upon the awful contrast between the

slender wisp of a girl and her mountainous opponent, as they had stood

before him; and the terrifying thoughts of what was sure to follow in

consequence drenched his skin with cold perspiration.

On the desk before him lay the essay which he had asked Carmen to

write during the week, as her report of the brilliant event. He had

read it through three times, and each time had read into it a new

meaning. He dared not run it. Not that it ridiculed or condemned--at

least, not openly--but because every one of its crisp comments

admitted of an interpretation which revealed the hidden depths of the

social system, and its gigantic incarnation, as if under the glare of

a powerful searchlight. It was in no sense a muck-raking exposition.

Rather, it was an interpretation, and a suggestion. It was, too, a

prediction; but not a curse. The girl loved those about whom she

wrote. And yet, he who read the essay aright would learn that her love

stopped not at the flimsy veil of the flesh, but penetrated until it

rested upon the fair spiritual image beyond. And then Haynerd saw that

the essay was, in substance, a social clinic, to which all searchers

after truth were bidden, that they might learn a great lesson from her

skillful dissection of the human mind, and her keen analysis of its

constituent thought.

As he sat wrapped in reflection, the early morning mail was brought

in. He glanced up, and then started to his feet. The letters spread

over his desk like an avalanche of snow; and the puffing mail carrier

declared that he had made a special trip with them alone. Haynerd

began to tear them open, one after another. Then he called the office

boy, and set him at the task. There were more than five hundred of

them, and each contained a canceled subscription to the Social Era.

A dark foreboding settled down over Haynerd's mind. He rose and went

to the card-index to consult his subscription list. It was gone! He

stood confusedly for a moment, then hastened to the window that looked

out upon a fire-escape. Its lock lay broken upon the floor. He turned

and rushed to the vault, which, reflecting his own habitual

carelessness, was never locked. His ledgers and account books were not

there. Then he crept back to his desk and sank into a chair.

The noon mail brought more letters of like nature, until the office

boy tallied nearly eight hundred. Then Haynerd, as if rousing from a

dream, reached for the telephone and summoned Hitt to his rescue. The

Social Era was foundering. Its mailing list had contained some

fifteen hundred names. The subscription price was twelve dollars a

year--and never, to his knowledge, had it been paid in advance by his

ultra-rich patrons, most of whom were greatly in arrears. Haynerd saw

it all vanishing now as quietly as the mist fades before the summer

sun.

Within an hour the wondering Hitt was in conference with him, and

Haynerd had told the story of the theft, of the Ames bribe, and the

encounter following. "But," he cried, "can Ames kill my entire

subscription list, and in a single week?"

"Easily," replied Hitt, "and in any one of several ways. Apparently he

had caused your subscription list and books to be stolen. Your sun has

set, Ned. Or, rather, Ames has lifted it bodily from the sky."

"Then I'll shoot him! I'll--! But we've got the goods on him! Carmen

and I saw him bribe Wales! We'll expose him!"

Hitt laughed. "Forget all that," he said, laying a hand on the excited

man's arm. "Remember, that Wales would never dare breathe a word of

it; Carmen has no reputation or standing whatsoever now in this city;

and Ames would make out a case of blackmail against you so quickly

that it would sweep you right into the Tombs. Go easy. And first, let

us get the girl herself down here."

He took the telephone and called up several of the University

departments, after first ascertaining that she was not at her home.

Then, having located her, he plunged into a study of the situation

with the distracted publisher.

"That's the way of it!" cried Haynerd at length. "Here I waste my

evenings in learned philosophical discussions with you people, and

meantime, while we're figuring out that there is no evil, that

monster, Ames, stretches out a tentacle and strangles me! Fine

practical discussions we've been having, ain't they? I tell you, I'm

through with 'em!" He brought his fist down upon the desk with a

crash.

"Ned," said Hitt, "you're a fool."

"Sure I am!" shouted Haynerd. "Do I deny it? Here I had a nice, clean

business, no work, good pay--and, just because I associated with you

and that girl, the whole damn thing goes up the flue! Pays to be good,

doesn't it? Nix!"

"H'm; well, Ned, you're not only a fool, but a blooming idiot,"

replied Hitt calmly.

"Lay it on! Lay it on thick!" roared Haynerd. "And if you run out of

epithets, I'll supply a few! I'm a--"

The door swung open, and Carmen entered, fresh as the sea breeze, and

panting with her haste. "Do you know," she began eagerly, "two men

followed me all the way down from the University! They watched me

come in here, and--but, what is wrong with you two?" She stopped and

looked inquiringly from one to the other.

"Well," began Hitt hesitatingly, "we were reflecting--"

"Reflecting? What? Good, or evil?" she demanded.

"We were just holding a wake, that's all," muttered Haynerd.

"Then wake up!" she cried, seizing his hand.

Hitt pushed out a chair for the girl, and bade her sit down. Then he

briefly related the events which had led to her being summoned. "And

now," he concluded, "the question is, does Wales know that you and Ned

saw Ames try to bribe him?"

"Why, of course he knows!" cried Carmen. "His wife told him."

"And who informed her?"

"I did--last Monday morning, early," answered the wondering girl.

"Didn't I tell you?" ejaculated Haynerd, turning upon Hitt and waving

his arms about. "What do you--"

"Hold your tongue, Ned!" interrupted Hitt. Then, to Carmen, "Why did

you tell her?"

"Why--to save her, and her husband, and babies! I told her because it

was right! You know it was right!"

"But, to save them, you have ruined Ned," pursued Hitt.

The girl turned to Haynerd, who sat doubled up in his chair, the

picture of despair. "I haven't ruined you, Ned." It was the first time

she had used this name in addressing him. "Things never happen, you

know. And if you have been pushed out of this business, it is because

it isn't fit for you, and because you've been awakened. You are for

higher, better things than the publishing of such a magazine as the

Social Era. I knew you just couldn't stay at this work. You have got

to go up--"

"Eh!" Haynerd had roused out of his torpor. "Go up? Yes, I've gone up,

nicely! And I was making ten thousand dollars a year out of it! It was

a bully proposition!" he blurted.

The girl smiled. "I wasn't speaking of money," she said.

"But I was!" retorted Haynerd. "When I talk, it's in dollars and

cents!"

"And that's why your talk is mostly nonsense," put in Hitt. "The

girl's right, I guess. You've stagnated here long enough, Ned. There's

no such thing as standing still. Progress is a divine demand. It's now

your move."

"But--good Lord! what am I to do?" wailed the man.

"You now have a grand opportunity," said Carmen, taking his hand.

"Opportunity!"

"Yes; every trial in this life is an opportunity to prove that there

is no evil," she said. "Listen; you have been trained as a publisher.

Very well, the world is waiting for the right kind of publications.

Oh, I've seen it for a long, long time. The demand is simply

tremendous. Now meet it!"

Haynerd looked confusedly from Carmen to Hitt. The latter turned to

the girl. "What, exactly, do you mean, Carmen?" he asked.

"Let him publish now a clean magazine, or paper; let him print real

news; let him work, not for rich people's money, but for all people.

Why, the press is the greatest educator in the world! But, oh, how it

has been abused! Now let him come out boldly and stand for clean

journalism. Let him find his own life, his own good, in service for

others."

"But, Carmen," protested Hitt, "do the people want clean journalism?

Could such a paper stand?"

"It could, if it had the right thought back of it," returned the

confident girl.

Haynerd had again lapsed into sulky silence. But Hitt pondered the

girl's words for some moments. She was not the first nor the only one

who had voiced such sentiments. He himself had even dared to hold the

same thoughts, and to read in them a leading that came not from

material ambitions. Then, of a sudden, an idea flamed up in his mind.

"The Express!" he exclaimed.

Carmen waited expectantly. Hitt's eyes widened with his expanding

thought. "Carlson, editor of the Express, wants to sell," he

continued, speaking rapidly.

"It's a semi-weekly newspaper, printed only for country circulation;

has no subscription list," commented Haynerd, with a cynical shrug of

his shoulders.

"Buy it!" exclaimed Carmen. "Buy it! And change it into a daily! Make

it a real newspaper!"

Hitt looked into Carmen's glowing eyes. "How old are you?" he suddenly

asked. The abruptness of the strange, apparently irrelevant question

startled the girl.

"Why," she replied slowly, "as old as--as God. And as young."

"And, as human beings reckon time, eighteen, eh?" continued Hitt.

She nodded, wondering what the question meant. Hitt then turned to

Haynerd. "How much money can you scrape together, if you sell this lot

of junk?" he asked, sweeping the place with a glance.

"Five or six thousand, all told, including bank account, bonds, and

everything, I suppose," replied Haynerd mechanically.

"Carlson wants forty thousand for the Express. I'm not a rich man, as

wealth is estimated to-day, but--well, oil is still flowing down in

Ohio. It isn't the money--it's--it's what's back of the cash."

Carmen reached over and laid a hand on his arm. "We can do it," she

whispered.

Hitt hesitated a moment longer, then sprang to his feet. "And we

will!" he cried. "I've pondered and studied this scheme for a year,

but I've only to-day seen the right help. That is your tremendous,

driving thought," he said, turning to Carmen. "That thought is a

spiritual dynamite, that will blast its way through every material

obstacle! Ned," seizing Haynerd by the shoulder and shaking him out of

his chair, "rouse up! Your light has come! Now I'll 'phone Carlson

right away and make an appointment to talk business with him. You'll

stand with me, Carmen?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"And you, Ned?"

Haynerd blinked for a few moments, like an owl in the light. But then,

as a comprehension of Hitt's plan dawned upon his waking thought, he

straightened up.

"Buy the Express! Make a real paper of it! A--but Ames?"

"He can't touch us! The clientele of the Express will not be made up

of his puppets! Our paper will be for the people!"

"But--your University work, Hitt?"

"I give my last lecture next week."

"And you, Carmen?"

"I was only biding my time," she replied gently. "This is a real call.

And my answer is: Here am I."

Tears began to trickle slowly down Haynerd's cheeks, as the tension in

his nerves slackened. He rose and seized the hands of his two friends.

"Hitt," he said, in a choking voice, "I--I said I was a fool. But that

fellow's dead now. The real man has waked up, and--well, what are you

standing there for, you great idiot? Go and call up Carlson!"

* * * * *

Again that evening the little group sat about the table in the dining

room of the Beaubien cottage. But only the three most directly

concerned, and the Beaubien, knew that the owner of the Express had

received that afternoon an offer for the purchase of his newspaper,

and that he had been given twenty-four hours in which to accept it.

Doctor Morton was again present; and beside him sat his lifelong

friend and jousting-mate, the very Reverend Patterson Moore. Hitt

took the floor, and began speaking low and earnestly.

"We must remember," he said, "in conjunction with what we have deduced

regarding the infinite creative mind and its manifestations, that we

mortals in our daily mundane existence deal only and always with

phenomena, with appearances, with effects, and never with ultimate

causes. And so all our material knowledge is a knowledge of

appearances only. Of the ultimate essence of things, the human mind

knows nothing. All of its knowledge is relative. A phenomenon may be

so-and-so with regard to another; but that either is absolute truth we

can not affirm. And yet--mark this well--as Spencer says, 'Every one

of the arguments by which the relativity of our knowledge is

demonstrated distinctly postulates the positive existence of something

beyond the relative.'"

"And just what does that mean?" asked Miss Wall.

"It is a primitive statement of what is sometimes called the 'Theory

of suppositional opposites'", replied Hitt. "It means that to every

reality there is the corresponding unreality. For every truth there

may be postulated the supposition. We can not, as the great

philosopher says, conceive that our knowledge is a knowledge of

appearances only, without at the same time conceiving a reality of

which they are appearances. He further amplifies this by saying that

'every positive notion--the concept of a thing by what it is--suggests

a negative notion--the concept of a thing by what it is not. But,

though these mutually suggest each other, _the positive alone is

real_.' Most momentous language, that! For, interpreted, it means: we

must deny the seeming, or that which appears to human sense, in order

to see that which is real."

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Miss Wall, glancing about to note the

effect of the speaker's words on the others.

But Carmen nodded her thorough agreement, and added: "Did not Jesus

say that we must deny ourselves? Deny which self? Why, the self that

appears to us, the matter-man, the dust-man, the man of the second

chapter of Genesis. We must deny his reality, and know that he is

nothing but a mental concept, formed out of suppositional thought, out

of dust-thought. And that is material thought."

"Undoubtedly correct," said Hitt, turning to Carmen. "But, before we

consider the astonishing teachings of Jesus, let us sum up the

conclusions of philosophy. To begin with, then, there is a First

Cause, omnipotent and omnipresent, and of very necessity perfect. That

Cause lies back of all the phenomena of life; and, because of its real

existence, there arises the suppositional existence of its opposite,

its negative, so to speak, which is unreal. The phenomena of human

existence have to do _only_ with the suppositional existence of the

great First Cause's opposite. They are a reflection of that

supposition. Hence all human knowledge of an external world is but

phenomenal, and consists of appearances which have no more real

substance than have shadows. _We, as mortals, know but the shadowy,

phenomenal existence._ _We do not know reality._ _Therefore, our

knowledge is not real knowledge, but supposition._

"Now," he went on hastily, for he saw an expression of protest on

Reverend Moore's face, "we are more or less familiar with a phenomenal

existence, with appearances, with effects; and our knowledge of these

is entirely mental. We see all things as thought. These thoughts, such

as feeling, seeing, hearing, and so on, we ignorantly attribute to the

five physical senses. This is what Ruskin calls the 'pathetic

fallacy.' And because we do so, we find ourselves absolutely dependent

upon these senses--in belief. Moreover, quoting Spencer again, only

the absolutely real is the absolutely persistent, or enduring. Truth,

for example. The truth of the multiplication table will endure

eternally. It is real. But is it any whit material?"

"No," admitted Miss Wall, speaking for the others.

"And, as regards material objects which we seem to see and touch,"

went on Hitt, "we appear to see solidity and hardness, and we conceive

as real objects what are only the mental signs or indications of

objects. Remember, matter does not and can not get into the mind. Only

thoughts and ideas enter our mentalities. We see our _thoughts_ of

hardness, solidity, and so on; and these thoughts point to something

that is real. That _something_ is--what? I repeat: _the ideas of the

infinite creative Mind_. The thoughts of size, shape, hardness, and so

on, which we group together and call material chairs, trees,

mountains, and other objects, are but 'relative realities,' pointing

to the absolute reality, infinite mind and its eternal ideas and

thoughts."

He paused again for comments. But all seemed absorbed in his

statements. Then he resumed:

"Our concept of matter, which is now proven to be but a mental

concept, built up out of false thought, points to _mind_ as the real

substance. Our concept of measurable space and distance is the direct

opposite of the great truth that infinite mind is ever-present. Our

concept of time is the opposite of infinity. It is but human

limitation. Age is the opposite of eternity--and the old-age thought

brings extinction. So, _to every reality there is the corresponding

unreality_. The opposite of good is evil. If the infinite creative

mind is good--and we saw that by very necessity it _must_ be so--then

evil becomes an awful unreality, and is real only to the false thought

which entertains or holds it. If life is real--and infinite mind must

itself be life--then death becomes the opposite unreality. And, as

Jesus said, it can be overcome. But were it real, _no power_, _divine

or human_, _could ever overcome or destroy it_!"

"Seems to me," remarked Haynerd dryly, "that our study so far simply

goes to show, as Burke puts it, 'what shadows we are and what shadows

we pursue.'"

Hitt smiled. "When the world humiliates itself to the point that it

will accept that, my friend," he said, "then it will become receptive

to truth.

"But now let us go a little further," he went on. "The great Lamarck

voiced a mighty fact when he said, 'Function precedes structure.' For

by that we mean that the egg did not produce the bird, but the bird

the egg. The world seems about to pass from the very foolish belief

that physical structure is the cause of life, to the great fact that a

_sense_ of life produces the physical structure. The former crude

belief enslaved man to his body. The latter tends to free him from

such slavery."

"You see, Doctor," interrupted Carmen, "the brain which you were

cutting up the other day did not make poor Yorick's mind and thought,

but his mind made the brain."

The doctor smiled and shook a warning finger at the girl.

"The body," resumed Hitt, "is a manifestation of the human mind's

activity. What constitutes the difference between a bird and a steam

engine? This, in part: the engine is made by human hands from without;

the bird makes itself, that is, its body, from within. So it is with

the human body. But the ignorant human mind--ignorant _per se_--falls

a slave to its own creation, the mental concept which it calls its

physical body, and which it pampers and pets and loves, until it can

cling to it no longer, because the mental concept, not being based on

any real principle, is forced to pass away, having nothing but false

thought to sustain it."

"But now," interposed Haynerd, who was again waxing impatient, "just

what is the practical application of all this abstruse reasoning?"

"The very greatest imaginable, my friend," replied Hitt. "A real thing

is real forever. And so matter can not become non-existent _unless it

is already nothing_! The world is beginning to recognize the

tremendous fact that from nothing nothing can be made. Very well,

since the law of the conservation of energy seems to be established as

regards energy _in toto_, why, we must conclude that there is no such

thing as _annihilation_. And that means that _there is no such thing

as absolute creation_! Whatever is real has always existed. The shadow

never was real, and does not exist. And so creation becomes unfolding,

or revelation, or development, of what already exists, and has always

existed, and always will exist. Therefore, if matter, and all it

includes as concomitants, evil, sin, sickness, accident, chance, lack,

and death, is based upon unreal, false thought, then it can all be

removed, put out of consciousness, by a knowledge of truth and a

reversal of our accustomed human thought-processes."

"And that," said Carmen, "is salvation. It is based on righteousness,

which is right-thinking, thinking true thoughts, and thinking truly."

"And knowing," added Hitt, "that evil, including matter, is the

suppositional opposite of truth. The doctrine of materialism has been

utterly disproved even by the physicists themselves. For physicists

have at last agreed that inertia is the great essential property of

matter. That is, matter is not a cause, but an effect. It does not

operate, but is operated upon. It is not a law-giver, but is subject

to the human mind's so-called laws concerning it. It of itself is

utterly without life or intelligence.

"Very good," he continued. "Now Spencer said that matter was a

manifestation of an underlying power or force. Physicists tell us that

matter is made of electricity, that it is an electrical phenomenon,

and that the ultimate constituent of matter is the electron. The

electron is said by some to be made up of superimposed layers of

positive and negative electricity, and by others to be made up of only

negative charges. I rather prefer the latter view, for if composed of

only negative electricity it is more truly a negation. Matter is the

_negative_ of real substance. It is a sort of negative truth.

"Now electricity is a form of energy. Hence matter is a form of

energy also. But our comprehension of it is _wholly mental_. Energy is

mental. The only real energy there is or can be is the energy of the

infinite mind we call God. This the human mind copies, or imitates,

by reason of what has been called 'the law of suppositional

opposites,' already dwelt upon at some length. Everything manifests

this so-called law. Electricity is both positive and negative.

Gravitation is regarded by some physicists as the negative aspect of

radiation-pressure, the latter being the pressure supposed to be

exerted by all material bodies upon one another. The third law of

motion illustrates this so-called law, for it states that action

and reaction are equal and opposite. There can be no positive action

without a resultant negative one. The truth has its lie. The divine

mind, God, has His opposite in the communal human, or mortal, mind.

The latter is manifested by the so-called minds which we call mankind.

And from these so-called minds issue matter and material forms and

bodies, with their so-called material laws.

"Yes, the material universe is running down. Stupendous fact! The

entire human concept is running down. Matter, the human mental

concept, is not eternally permanent. Neither, therefore, are its

concomitants, sin and discord. Matter disintegrates and passes

away--out of human consciousness. The whole material universe--the

so-called mortal-mind concept--is hastening to its death!"

"But as yet I think you have not given Mr. Haynerd the practical

application which he asks," suggested Father Waite, as Hitt paused

after his long exposition.

"I am now ready for that," replied Hitt. "We have said that the

material is the relative. So all human knowledge is relative. But,

that being so, we can go a step further and add that human error is

likewise relative. And now--startling fact!--_it is absolutely

impossible to really know error_!"

"Why--!" burst from the incredulous Miss Wall.

"Well?" said Hitt, turning to her. "Can you know that two plus two

equals seven?"

"N--no."

"Let me make this statement of truth: nothing can be known definitely

except as it is explained by the principle which governs it. Now what

principle governs an error, whether that error be in music,

mathematics, or life conduct?"

There was no reply to the question.

"Very well," continued Hitt. "Evil can not be really known. And that

is why God--infinite Mind--can not behold evil. And now, friends, I

have come to the conclusion of a long series of deductions. If

infinite mind is the cause and creator, that is, the revealer, of all

that really exists, its suppositional opposite, its negative, must

likewise simulate a creation, or revelation, or unfolding, for this

opposite must of very necessity pose as a creative principle. It must

simulate all the powers and attributes of the infinite creative mind.

If the creative mind gave rise to a spiritual universe and spiritual

man, by which it expresses itself, then this suppositional opposite

must present its universe and its man, opposite in every particular to

the reality. _It is this sort of man and this sort of universe that

we, as mortals, seem to see all about us, and that we refer to as

human beings and the physical universe._ And yet, all that we see,

feel, hear, smell, or taste is the false, suppositional thought that

comes into our so-called mentalities, and by its suppositional

activity there causes what we call consciousness or awareness of

things."

"Then," said Father Waite, more to enunciate his own thought than to

question the deduction, "what the human consciousness holds as

knowledge is little more than belief and speculation, with no basis of

truth, no underlying principle."

"Just so. And it brings out the fruits of such beliefs in discord,

decay, and final dissolution, called death. For this human consciousness

forms its own concept of a fleshly body, and a mind-and-matter man. It

makes the laws which govern its body, and it causes its body to obey

these false laws. Upon the quality of thought entering this human

consciousness depend all the phenomena of earthly life and environment

which the mortal experiences. The human consciousness, in other words,

is a _self-centered mass of erroneous thought, utterly without any basis

of real principle, but actively engaged in building up mental images,

and forming and maintaining an environment in which it supposes

itself to live_. _This false thought in the human consciousness forms

into a false concept of man, and this is the soul-and-body man, the

mind-and-matter man, which is called a human being, or a mortal._"

"And there," commented Carmen, with a dreamy, far-away look, "we have

what Padre Josè so long ago spoke of as the 'externalization of

thought.' It is the same law which Jesus had in mind when he said, 'As

a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.'"

"Yes," said Hitt. "For we know only what enters our mentalities and

becomes active there. And every thought that does so enter, tends at

once to become externalized. That is, there is at once the tendency

for us to see it visualized in some way, either as material object, or

environment, or on our bodies. And it is the very activity of such

thought that constitutes the human mentality, as I have already

said."

"And that thought is continually changing," suggested Father Waite.

"Just so. Its very lack of true principle requires that it should

change constantly, in order to simulate as closely as possible the

real. That accounts for the fleeting character of the whole human

concept of man and the physical universe. The human personality is

never fixed, although the elements of human character remain; that is,

those elements which are essentially unreal and mortal, such as lust,

greed, hatred, and materiality, seem to remain throughout the ages.

They will give way only before truth, even as Paul said. But not until

truth has been admitted to the human mentality and begins its solvent

work there, the work of denying and tearing down the false

thought-concepts and replacing them with true ones."

"And will truth come through the physical senses?" asked Miss Wall.

"No, decidedly no!" said Hitt. "The physical senses testify of

nothing. Their supposed testimony is the material thought which enters

the human mentality and becomes active there, resulting in human

consciousness of both good and evil. And that thought will have to

give way to true thought, before we can begin to put off the 'old man'

and put on the 'new.' Human thoughts, or, as we say, the physical

senses, do not and can not testify of absolute truth. They do not know

God."

"Ha!" exclaimed Haynerd, rousing up. "There goes the Church, and

original sin, and fallen man!"

"There is no such thing as 'fallen man,' my friend," said Hitt

quietly. "The spiritual man, the image and likeness, the reflection,

of the infinite creative mind, is perfect as long as its principle

remains perfect--and that is eternally. The mortal man never was

perfect. He is a product of false, suppositional thought. He is not

and never was man. He did not fall, because he has had no perfection

to lose."

Reverend Patterson Moore, who had sat a silent, though not wholly

sympathetic listener throughout the discussion, could now no longer

withhold his protest. "No wonder," he abruptly exclaimed, "that there

are so few deep convictions to-day concerning the great essentials of

Christianity! As I sit here and listen to you belittle God and rend

the great truths of His Christ, as announced in His Word, the Bible, I

am moved by feelings poignantly sorrowful! The Christ has once been

crucified; and will you slay him again?"

"No," said Carmen, her eyes dilating with surprise, "but we would

resurrect him! Don't you think you have kept him in the tomb long

enough? The Christ-principle is intended for use, not for endless

burial!"

"I? My dear Miss Carmen, it is I who preach the risen Christ!"

"You preach human theology, Mr. Moore," returned the girl. "And

because of centuries of such preaching the world has steadily sunk

from the spiritual to the material, and lip service has taken the

place of that genuine spiritual worship which knows no evil, and

which, because of that practical knowledge, heals the sick and raises

the dead."

"You insinuate that--?"

"No, I state facts," said Carmen. "Paul made some mistakes, for he was

consumed with zeal. But he stated truth when he said that the second

coming of Christ would occur when the 'old man' was put off. We have

been discussing the 'old man' to-night, and showing how he may be put

off. Now do you from your pulpit teach your people how that may be

done?"

"I teach the vicarious atonement of the Christ, and prepare my flock

for the world to come," replied the minister with some heat.

"But I am interested in the eternal present," said the girl, "not in a

suppositional future. And so was Jesus. The world to come is right

here. 'I am that which is, and which was, and which is to come,' says

the infinite, ever-present mind, God!"

"I see no Christianity whatsoever in your speculative philosophy,"

retorted the minister. "If what you say is true, and the world should

accept it, all that we have learned in the ages past would be blotted

out, and falsehood would be written across philosophy, science, and

religion. By wafting evil lightly aside as unreal, you dodge the

issue, and extend license to all mankind to indulge it freely. Evil is

an awful, a stupendous fact! And it can not be relegated to the realm

of shadow, as you are trying to do!"

"Did Jesus regard it as a reality?" she asked. "You know, Duns Scotus

said: 'Since there is no real being outside of God, evil has no

substantial existence. Perfection and reality are synonyms, hence

absolute imperfection is synonymous with absolute unreality.' Did

Jesus know less than this man? And do you really think he looked upon

evil as a _reality_?"

"He most certainly did!"

"Then, if that is true," said the girl, "I will have to reject him.

But come, we are right up to the point of discussing him and his

teachings, and that will be the subject of our next meeting. Will you

join us, Mr. Moore? It is love, you know, that has drawn us all

together. You'll come?"

"It's an open forum, Moore," said the doctor, patting him on the back.

"Wisdom isn't going to die with you. Come and get a new viewpoint."

"I am quite well satisfied with my present one, Doctor," replied the

minister tartly.

"Well, then, come and correct us when we err. It's your duty to save

us if we're in danger, you know."

"He will come," said Hitt. "And now, Carmen, the piano awaits you. By

the way, what did Maitre Rossanni tell you?"

"Oh," replied the girl lightly, "he begged me to let him train me for

Grand Opera."

"Yes?"

"He said I would make a huge fortune," she laughed.

"And so you would! Well?"

"I told him I carried my wealth with me, always, and that my fortune

was now so immense that I couldn't possibly hope to add to it."

"Then you refused the chance!"

"My dear Mr. Hitt," she said, going to him and looking up into his

face, "I am too busy for Grand Opera and money-making. My voice

belongs to the world. I couldn't be happy if I made people pay to hear

me sing."

With that she turned and seated herself at the piano, where she

launched into a song that made the very Reverend Patterson Moore raise

his glasses and stare at her long and curiously.

CHAPTER 7

Man reasons and seeks human counsel; but woman obeys her instincts.

Carmen did this and more. Her life had been one of utter freedom from

dependence upon human judgment. The burden of decision as to the

wisdom of a course of action rested always upon her own thought. Never

did she seek to make a fellow-being her conscience. When the day of

judgment came, the hour of trial or vital demand, it found her

standing boldly, because her love was made perfect, not through

instinct alone, but through conformity with the certain knowledge that

he who lacks wisdom may find it in the right thought of God and man.

And so, when on the next day she joined Hitt and Haynerd in the office

of the Social Era, and learned that Carlson had met their terms,

eagerly, and had transferred to them the moribund Express, she had no

qualms as to the wisdom of the step which they were taking.

But not so her companions. Haynerd was a composite picture of doubt

and fear, as he sat humped up in his chair. Hitt was serious to the

point of gloom, reflecting in a measure his companion's dismal

forebodings.

"I was scared to death for fear he wouldn't sell," Haynerd was saying

as the girl entered; "and I was paralyzed whenever I thought that he

would."

Carmen laughed aloud when she heard these words. "Do you know," she

said, "you remind me of Lot's wife. She was told to go ahead, along

the right course. But she looked back--alas for her! Now you two being

started right are looking back; and you are about to turn to salt

tears!

"Now listen," she continued, as Haynerd began to remonstrate; "don't

voice a single fear to me! You couldn't make me believe them true even

if you argued for weeks--and we have no time for such foolishness

now. The first thing that you have got to do, Ned, is to start a

little cemetery. In it you must bury your fears, right away, and

without any mourning. Put up little headstones, if you wish; but don't

ever go near the place afterward, excepting to plant the insults, and

gibes, and denouncements, and vilifications which the human mind will

hurl at you, once the Express starts out on its new career. Good is

bound to stir up evil; and the Express is now in the business of good.

Remember, the first thing the Apostles always did was to be afraid.

And they kept Jesus busy pointing out the nothingness of their

fears."

"Business of good!" retorted Haynerd savagely. "I guess we'll find

ourselves a bit lonely in it, too!"

"True, humanly speaking," replied the girl, taking a chair beside him.

"But, Ned, let me tell you of the most startling thing I have found in

this great, new country. It is this: you Americans have, oh, so much

animal courage--and so little true moral courage! You know that the

press is one of the most corrupt institutions in America, don't you?

The truth is not in it. Going into thousands of homes every day, it is

a deadlier menace than yellow fever. You know that it is muzzled by

so-called religious bodies, by liquor interests, by vice-politicians,

by commercialism, and its own craven cowardice. And yet, Ned, despite

your heart-longing, you dare not face the world and stand boldly for

righteousness in the conduct of the Express!

"Now," she went on hurriedly, "let me tell you more. While you have

been debating with your fears as you awaited Mr. Carlson's decision, I

have been busy. If I had allowed my mentality to become filled with

fear and worry, as you have done, I would have had no room for real,

constructive thought. But I first thanked God for this grand

opportunity to witness to Him; and then I put out every mental

suggestion of failure, of malicious enmity from the world, and from

those who think they do not love us, and with it every subtle argument

about the unpreparedness of the human mind for good. After that I set

out to visit various newspaper offices in the city. I have talked with

four managing and city editors since yesterday noon. I have their

viewpoints now, and know what motives animate them. I know what they

think. I know, in part, what the Express will have to meet--and how to

meet it."

Both men stared at her in blank amazement. Haynerd's jaw dropped as he

gazed. He had had a long apprenticeship in the newspaper field, but

never would he have dared attempt what this fearless girl had just

done.

"I have found out what news is," Carmen resumed. "It is wholly _a

human invention_! It is the published vagaries of the carnal mind. In

the yellow journal it is the red-inked, screaming report of the

tragedies of sin. I asked Mr. Fallom if he knew anything about mental

laws, and the terrible results of mental suggestion in his paper's

almost hourly heralding of murder, theft, and lust. But he only

laughed and said that the lurid reports of crime tended to keep people

alive to what was going on about them. He couldn't see that he was

making a terrible reality of every sort of evil, and holding it so

constantly before an ignorant, credulous world's eyes that little else

could be seen. The moral significance of his so-called news reports

had no meaning whatsoever for him!"

"Did you go to see Adams?" asked Haynerd, not believing that she would

have dared visit that journalistic demon.

"Yes," answered the girl, to his utter astonishment. "Mr. Adams said

he had no time for maudlin sentimentalism or petticoat sophistry. He

was in the business of collecting and disseminating news, and he

wanted that news to go _shrieking_ out of his office! Here is one of

his afternoon extras. You can see how the report of an Italian

wife-murder shrieks in red letters an inch high on the very first

page. But has Mr. Adams thereby seen and met his opportunity? Or has

he further prostituted journalism by this ignorant act?"

"The people want it, Carmen," said Hitt slowly, though his voice

seemed not to sound a real conviction.

"They do not!" cried Carmen, her eyes snapping. "If the church and the

press were not mortally and morally blind, they would see the deadly

destruction which they are accomplishing by shrieking from pulpit and

sanctum: 'Evil is real! Pietro Lasanni cuts his wife's throat! Evil is

real! Look, and be convinced!'"

"But, Carmen, while what you say is doubtless true, it must be

admitted that the average man, especially the day laborer, reads his

yellow journal avidly, and--"

"Yes, he does," returned the girl. "And why? The average man, as

you call him, is a victim of _the most pernicious social system

ever devised by the human mind_! Swept along in the mad rush of

commercialism, or ground down beneath its ruthless wheels, his

jaded, jarred nerves and his tired mind cry out for artificial

stimulation, for something that will for a moment divert his wearied

thought from his hopeless situation. The Church offers him little

that is tangible this side of the grave. But whiskey, drugs, and

yellow journalism do. Can't you see, Mr. Hitt--can't you, Ned--that

the world's cry for sensationalism is but a cry for something that

will make it forget its misery for a brief moment? The average man

feels the superficiality of the high speed of this century of mad

rush; he longs as never before for a foundation of truth upon which to

rest; he is tired of theological fairy-tales; he is desperately

tired of sin, and sickness, and dying. He cares little about a

promised life beyond the grave. He wants help here and now to solve

his problems. What does the press offer him? Little beyond a recount

of his own daily miseries, and reports of graft and greed, and

accounts of vulgar displays of material wealth that he has not and

can not have. And these reports divert his jaded mind for a moment and

give him a false, fleeting sense of pleasure--and then leave him

sunk deeper than before in despair, and in hatred of existing

conditions!"

"The girl is right," said Hitt, turning to Haynerd. "And we knew it,

of course. But we have let our confidence slip. This steam-calliope

age reflects the human-mind struggle for something other than its own

unsatisfying ideas. It turns to thrills; it expresses its restlessness

and dissatisfaction with itself by futurist and cubist art, so-called;

by the rattle and vibration of machinery; by flaring billboards that

insult every sense of the artistic; and by the murk and muck of yellow

journalism, with its hideous colored supplements and spine-thrilling

tales. So much for the reader. But the publisher himself--well, he

battens materially, of course, upon the tired victims of our degrading

social system. He sees but the sordid revenue in dollars and cents.

Beyond that his morals do not extend."

"And they can't," said Haynerd. "Decent journalism wouldn't

pay--doesn't--never did! Other papers have tried it, and miserably

failed!"

"Then," returned Hitt calmly, after a moment's reflection, "oil will

meet the deficit. As long as my paternal wells flow in Ohio the

Express will issue forth as a clean paper, a dignified, law-supporting

purveyor to a taste for better things--even if it has to create that

taste. Its columns will be closed to salacious sensation, and its

advertising pages will be barred to vice, liquor, tobacco, and

drugs."

"Good!" cried Carmen. "And now we've got to get right down to

business."

"Just so," said Hitt, rising. "It is my intention to issue the Express

one more week on its present basis, and then turn it into a penny

morning daily. I have seen and talked with its staff. They're good

men. I'm going to assume the management myself, with you, Carmen, as

my first assistant. Haynerd will become city editor. Now, what

suggestions have you?"

"Oh, lots!" cried the girl enthusiastically. "But, first, how far may

I go?"

"The limit," replied Hitt, rubbing his hands together. "You are my

brain, so to speak, henceforth. As to financial resources, I am

prepared to dump a hundred thousand dollars right into the Express

before a cent of revenue comes back."

"Another question, then: will you issue a Sunday edition?" she asked.

"For a while, yes," he said. "We'll see how it works, for I have some

ideas to try out."

"Well, then," resumed the girl eagerly, "I want this paper to be for

_all_ the people; to be independent in the truest sense of the term;

and to be absolutely beyond the influence of political and religious

sectarianism--you'll soon enough learn what that will cost you--to be

an active, constructive force in this great city, and a patient,

tireless, loving educator."

"Humph!" grunted Haynerd, although he was listening very carefully.

"The Express will succeed," the girl went on, without noticing him,

"because our thought regarding it is successful. _We_ have already

succeeded; and that success will be externalized in our work. It makes

no difference what the people may think of _us_; but it makes a lot of

difference what _we_ think of _them_ and _ourselves_. Now, our program

is unlimited. We assume superiority over adverse conditions, and we

claim success, because we know that these things are mental, and that

they are divinely ours. Lot's wife didn't have the sort of confidence

that wins--she looked back. Our bridges are burnt behind us now. But

there is no doubt of the outcome. And so there is no doubt lurking in

us to take the edge off our efforts, is there? The thought regarding

the Express has not been timidly born within us; it has come forth

flashing vigor! Yes it has, Ned, despite your doubts! And we have

within us a power mightier than any force outside of us. That is the

knowledge of infinite mind's omnipotence, and our ability to use the

Christ-principle to meet _every_ problem. Is it not so?"

Haynerd began to rouse up with a returning sense of confidence. Hitt

smiled and nodded to Carmen. The girl went on rapidly and eagerly:

"We are going to give the people news from a new standpoint, aren't

we? We are not going on the assumption that the report of mankind's

errors is the report of real news. The only thing that is really new

is _good_. We'll report that. When I was in Mr. Adams's office two

items came in over the 'phone. One was the report of a jewel robbery,

and the other was an announcement of the draining by the Government of

submerged lands in Louisiana, so as to give an additional opportunity

to those seeking farms. Which item did Mr. Adams put in bold type on

the front page? The first, yes. I was unable to locate the latter

anywhere in the paper, although it was a timely bit of news."

"Very true," replied Hitt.

"Now another thing," continued the girl, "I want the Sunday edition of

the Express to contain a résumé of the important and vital news of the

week, with the very clearest, most impartial and enlightening

editorial comment upon it. This calls for nice discrimination in the

selection of those items for our comment. It means, however, the best

practical education for the people. This was John Ruskin's idea, and

certainly is a splendid one. Still another thing, the Express will

stand shoulder to shoulder with the women for equal suffrage. Are you

agreed?"

"Most emphatically!" declared Hitt. "It is the women who will clean up

and regenerate this world, not the men. Reform is now in the hands of

the women. They have been held back long enough. And India proves that

backward women mean a backward nation."

"Then," continued Carmen, "make a distinct Women's Department in the

Express, and put Miss Wall on the staff."

"Very well. Next?" inquired Hitt, smiling.

"A daily educational department for foreigners, our immigrants, giving

them every possible aid in suggestions regarding their naturalization,

the languages, hotels, boarding houses, employment, and so on."

"Done," said Hitt. "And what else?"

"The Express is going to maintain a social service, and night schools.

It is going to establish vacation and permanent homes for girls. It is

going to provide for vocational training. It is going to establish a

lecture bureau--for lectures on _good_. It is going to build a model

city for workingmen. Then it is going to found a model city for

everybody. It is going to establish clubs and meeting places for

workingmen, places where they may meet, and play games, and read, and

have social intercourse, and practical instruction. It is going to

establish the same for young boys. It is going to take the lead for

civic betterment in this city, and for child-welfare, and for--"