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PERKINS LIBRARY 
 
 Duke University 
 
 I^dre Books 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/wouldchristbelonOOmyer 
 
To the Carpenter of Nazareth. 
 

Would Christ Belong to 
 a Labor Union ? 
 
 OR 
 
 Henry Fielding's Dream 
 
 BY 
 
 CORTLAND MYERS, D.D. 
 
 i 
 
 AOTHOI or 
 
 'MIDNIGHT IN A GREAT CITY," " WHY MEN DO NOT GO TO CHURCH,' 
 "MAKING A LIFE," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 STREET & SMITH, Publishers 
 
 238 William Street 
 
Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1900 
 
 By Street & Smith 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 

 This book is not all fiction. A large part of it is 
 from real life. 
 
 The Author. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter. Page. 
 
 I. — Stopped by a Strange Question, . . 7 
 
 II. — The Startling Sermon, ... 24 
 
 III. — A Rich Girl's Sacrifice, ... 41 
 
 IV. — A Stormy Night in Union No. 10, . 60 
 
 V. — In David Dowling's Study, . . 83 
 
 VI. — The Telegram from Home, . . 101 
 
 VII. — A Minister in the Union, . . .121 
 
 VIII. — In the Homes of the Poor, . . 141 
 
 IX.— A Hero in the Pulpit, . . .163 
 
 X. — Henry Fielding's Conversion, . 181 
 
 XI. — The Chasm Bridged, .... 199 
 
 XII. — Is This a Dream ? . . . , 210 
 
Would Christ Belong to 
 a Labor Union? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 STOPPED BY A STRANGE QUESTION. 
 
 "Would Christ belong to a labor union ?" was the 
 question that almost startled Henry Fielding as it 
 met his eyes at the corner of the street on the church 
 bulletin. He was on his way to work in the early 
 morning, and had already been detained at home, 
 and also a moment by a friend on the way; but he 
 could not pass on without pausing in front of that 
 peculiar question and reading the smaller letters be- 
 neath it. 
 
 It was an announcement of the services for the 
 next day in the church. The special sermon, the 
 minister's name, the attractive music and a warm 
 welcome for all. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I have not been to church in so 
 long a time that I would not know how to act, but 
 
8 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 I would like to hear what he has to say about that. 
 If I live until to-morrow, I am going to change the 
 Sunday programme and go to church." 
 
 He hastened on and turned around to glance at 
 the other side of the bulletin. 
 
 "That is not such a strange subject after all," 
 thought he. "The strange thing about it is that the 
 preacher and the church are asking it." 
 
 Henry Fielding was a noble fellow in heart and 
 purpose. He had an unselfish disposition ; his ambi- 
 tions were kingly, but they were thwarted by circum- 
 stances. No young man ever came out of a more 
 truly religious home. His early life was enriched 
 by the family prayer, the church service, and the 
 Sunday school. He had learned whole chapters of 
 the Bible for prize and pleasure both. His home 
 was among the hills of Vermont. A small farm, 
 a small mortgage, a continuous struggle, and a rigid 
 economy on the part of his parents were the environ- 
 ment of those boyhood days. His father had died 
 when Henry was but ten years of age, leaving his 
 mother broken-hearted and in broken health to fight 
 the hard and continuous battle alone. He was the 
 eldest of three children — a sister, Elsie, of eight, and 
 a brother, Will, of six. Those years of his responsi- 
 bility and his mother's heroism made an impression 
 upon him never to be obliterated. The mortgage 
 became no less ; rather, as most mortgages go, it be- 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 9 
 
 came more. The interest had to come, and the eggs 
 and butter sold, instead of eaten. Each year made 
 him understand that he must bear more of the bur- 
 den. 
 
 It brought him into manhood before his time, and 
 drew some of the sweetness and necessity out of real 
 life. It is the tragedy of life to be an old young 
 man. 
 
 The natural and the ideal are to come with the 
 years, and not force them. But circumstances swung 
 the sceptre and said, "Give up school ; cover your 
 eyes in front of other opportunities. Know not envy 
 and thrust your jack-knife into the very heart of 
 dissatisfaction. Stand by your mother !" The years 
 passed by, and never saw his courage fail. 
 
 Will came to be a young man of eighteen, and 
 seemed to have more liking for the farm than his 
 brother had ever been able to force into his heart 
 or activity. 
 
 Then Henry began to make his plans to go to 
 the great city, learn a trade, become skilled, save his 
 money, make an invention, have a manufactory of 
 his own, get rich, help his sister, care for his mother, 
 and forget forever bare feet, mortgage, butterless 
 bread, etc. 
 
 Oh, what dreams we have in the daytime I Almost 
 as strange as at night, and almost as far from reality. 
 Yet it is better to dream than not. 
 
io Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 He now had been in the city several years, and 
 worked hard and without any flagging zeal or de- 
 termination, but a haze had been creeping across 
 the star of hope in his sky. 
 
 This part of his life was not just as he had planned 
 or wished, but he had enough of the divinity of 
 mankind in him not to be easily conquered. He did 
 not try to push back the current, but he was not the 
 one to be drowned in its waters. 
 
 One day as he stood at his work, the man nearest 
 him heard him say, "to-morrow." 
 
 He said, "Henry, what are you talking about?" 
 
 "I did not know that I was talking about any- 
 thing," said Henry ; "but I do know that I was keep- 
 ing up a serious kind of thinking." 
 
 "Well, you were thinking aloud this time. I 
 heard a part of it, anyway." 
 
 "I am not afraid to tell you what I was thinking 
 about. I was getting gloomy and almost in a fit 
 of despondency. Plans fail so quickly and com- 
 pletely, and to-day seems especially dark to me. In 
 the secret silence of my soul I was saying over and 
 over again : 'There'll be another day.' If you heard 
 me say 'to-morrow,' that is the reason." 
 
 His sister Elsie had written him a letter the day 
 before, telling him of her deep desire to secure some 
 advantages which the country did not furnish, and 
 which she never could receive unless she could come 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. n 
 
 to the city and have the best of training. She was 
 in a kind of prison up there in the mountains, and 
 there was no future for her. Her friends told her 
 that she had a wonderful musical talent if it could 
 only be cultivated. She played the organ for them 
 in their little church, and often sang as no one else 
 there could sing. She seemed the larger part of the 
 church service. 
 
 All this had only been the fuel on the burning 
 desire already in her heart to know more and be 
 more. Mother said she would sell the farm; but 
 that would not help — rather, it might hinder. Henry 
 was the only one to ask what could be done. 
 
 This was the hard problem in his hand now. That 
 letter was for a moment more puzzling and impor- 
 tant to him than the map of Europe to Napoleon 
 before the Battle of Waterloo 1 . At last he stamped 
 his foot and declared that this was more necessary 
 than anything else, and ought to be done at once, 
 even if all the other plans of the years' making 
 should be opposed or even destroyed by it. 
 
 He was careful in the use of his pronouns, and 
 uttered the "you" a score of times where once he 
 spoke the "I." Elsie was told to come to the city, 
 and he would furnish two rooms. She could keep 
 house for him and herself, and take her music les- 
 sons. It would require all his earnings and destroy 
 the possibility of saving, but the great lesson he had 
 
12 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 learned in the school of life had already taught him 
 what it was to save — that hoarded treasure might 
 not be saving. 
 
 "This," he said, "is the best method of saving, to 
 place it in the bank of my sister's life and let it draw 
 interest forever. If I cannot get what I had planned, 
 let her secure the object of her life. Perhaps in her 
 ambition attained is the realization of my own." 
 
 Elsie had come to the city. The plans had been per- 
 fected, the two rooms were furnished, or rather fixed 
 so that a brother and sister who loved each other 
 and understood the object of their toil and sacrifice, 
 could live in them. 
 
 The one had to be parlor, kitchen, sitting-room, 
 library and Henry's sleeping-room. A lounge at 
 one side was his bed, a small stove was sufficient for 
 heating the rooms and the cooking of their food, 
 a few chairs and a table, some pictures, and every- 
 thing without an atom of dust upon it and spot- 
 lessly clean. 
 
 Elsie's training made two rooms the same as a 
 palace to her, and taught her that there was no 
 economy in dirt out of its place. 
 
 It was Saturday night. The familiar step was 
 heard on the stairway. The door opened. Elsie 
 was in the other room, but shouted, "Hello !" before 
 Henry had closed the door behind him. She 
 hastened out to arrange the table as attractively as 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 13 
 
 she possibly could. She asked him all about his 
 day, and if he was tired ; then for a moment sat at 
 the table looking directly at him, her great eyes full 
 of admiration for him. He was almost her idol ; at 
 least, her ideal. 
 
 Suddenly he said: "Elsie, I am going to church 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "What," said she, "do you mean it? I am so 
 glad. What makes you say that? Why, I would 
 think you were perfect if you would only go to 
 church every Sunday." 
 
 "I won't promise you that, but I will go to-mor- 
 row morning if you will go where I want you to." 
 
 "Why, certainly, I will go wherever you would 
 like, and I will give up my church any time if you 
 would only attend some other one with me. Really, 
 Henry, this has been the only bitter drop in all my 
 cup — you having nothing to do with the church." 
 
 "Well, we won't discuss that now," said Henry; 
 "but, anyway, I will go to-morrow. Perhaps it is 
 only curiosity, but I will be there just the same, and 
 that will in itself please you." 
 
 "What is the object of your curiosity, and where 
 do you want to go ?" 
 
 "I am going to that church on the corner of North 
 avenue and Thirteenth street. The minister's name 
 I have almost forgotten. The last name is Dowling, 
 and I think the first name is David. That is a small 
 
14 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 matter, anyhow. I never notice the ministers' 
 names, and I had never heard of him until this morn- 
 ing; in fact, I don't know any of them, and don't 
 know as I care to." 
 
 "Oh, Henry, do not say that! You don't under- 
 stand either yourself or them." 
 
 "I know enough about the churches and ministers 
 to know that they have lost the spirit of the Bible, 
 and have no real relation to the greatest needs of 
 to-day." 
 
 "Wait a minute, Henry. They are trying to save 
 the people, and that is the greatest need of this and 
 all other days. What does saving people mean? If 
 it does not mean saving them here and now, and 
 saving the society in which they live, it does not 
 mean anything." 
 
 "Better get this world right before they talk so 
 much about the next." 
 
 "Oh Henry, that is not the way Christ talked !" 
 
 "Yes, that is just the way Christ talked, and lived, 
 too, if I remember the story right. Of course, I 
 have not had much to do with it lately." 
 
 "I am sure that you do not understand the Gospel, 
 or the purpose and work of the ministers and 
 churches, or you would not feel just as you say." 
 
 "Now, Elsie, there is not any use in talking to me 
 about this, because my convictions are fixed, and I 
 believe in good reasons. I did not give up church 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 15 
 
 and prayer and all my early training without suffi- 
 cient cause. You have not seen what I have, nor 
 have you passed through some of my experiences. 
 A good many things ought to be made right, and 
 the churches ought to be the first to enter into the 
 work ; but they are the last, and most of them stand 
 on the corner of the streets like sepulchres for dead 
 people, instead of great centres where the business 
 of Christianity is being transacted and the wrongs 
 of human society are being righted. The working- 
 men do not cross the threshold of these tombs to- 
 day. There are one hundred and fifty men where 
 I work, and only three of them go to church. There 
 are one hundred and forty-seven heathen right in 
 that one place, and I am one of them — not by choice, 
 but by compulsion." 
 
 "I cannot argue with you, Henry, but I am sure 
 you are prejudiced, and don't really understand 
 what the Gospel mission is, or what the churches 
 are doing. You talk about the wrongs of society, 
 and all this, but what would this great city be with- 
 out the churches ?" 
 
 Henry turned in his chair and drummed on the 
 table with his fork, and said, with a disgusted air: 
 "It couldn't be much worse. Say, Elsie, do you 
 know that most working men think that the Church 
 has not one particle of sympathy for them, but caters 
 to the rich and well-to-do in order to be well sup- 
 
1 6 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 ported and build first-class buildings, and have more 
 stately services. I declare some of them are like 
 great icebergs now and make you shiver even to pass 
 them. They ought to warm the world instead of 
 floating down from the Arctic regions of philosophy 
 and dogma to chill human society. I can't help it — if 
 all this is religion I don't want any'of it. It was all 
 well enough when I was up in the country, but in this 
 great, struggling, seething mass of humanity, and in 
 this whirlpool of injustices — in the same city with 
 sweat-shops and tenements and strikes to get wages 
 and to keep life, the Church ought to do something 
 besides sing and pray. It would be better to dispense 
 with the preaching and do a little practicing." 
 
 "Hearken," said Elsie, "I thought I heard a rap." 
 
 Then came that gentle tap, tap, tap, continuous 
 and familiar. It was the noise peculiar, but always 
 welcome. 
 
 "Come on, old fellow," shouted Henry. 
 
 In walked a stalwart young man of bright eye and 
 smiling countenance, quick step and vivacity in every 
 move, almost to the point of nervousness. It was 
 Richard Harding, Henry's companion, and had been 
 for several years. He sat down and then presently 
 moved to another chair, and almost at the same in- 
 stant arose and picked up a glass from the table and 
 drank the remaining water in it, as he said: "That 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 17 
 
 was a lively conversation in which you were engaged 
 when I was coming up the stairs, and Henry seemed 
 to be doing the most of it." 
 
 "Yes," said Henry. "I just shocked her as much 
 as if a bolt of lightning had come right down through 
 the roof and landed on the middle of the table. I 
 don't know but that some of the dishes are broken." 
 
 "They are swept clean, anyway," said Richard; 
 "perhaps that was the effect of the lightning." 
 
 "Anyway, it was not a quarrel, was it, sister?" said 
 Henry. 
 
 "No," replied Elsie, "but I must confess to the 
 shock, or rather a sensation, call it— a pleasing sen- 
 sation." 
 
 "Well, what was it?" said Richard, "let me into the 
 secret. You know I am one of the family." 
 
 "If you are one of the family," said Elsie, "then 
 you will have to go, too." 
 
 "Go where?" said he. 
 
 "I will let Henry tell you," answered Elsie, with 
 something of a merry twinkle in her eye. 
 
 Henry sat with his feet crossed and his head lean- 
 ing on the back of his chair, gazing at the ceiling and 
 again drumming with his fork on the table, apparent- 
 ly oblivious to all that was going on around him, but 
 after a moment's silence, in which Elsie had changed 
 glances with and winked to Richard, he rolled his 
 
1 8 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 head over toward them, and said, "What was you 
 saying?" 
 
 "Oh, nonsense," said Elsie, "you know, come now, 
 out with it, and then we will all three go together." 
 
 "Well, Dick, I am going to church to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "Ha, ha., ha," came from Richard's side of the 
 room. "After all you have said about the Church, 
 and you having no use for it any more — now going? 
 I thought as much ; your sister has been working her 
 scheme, and, like all these women, they get just about 
 what they want if you only give them time enough, 
 and most always it doesn't take much time. Well, I 
 don't wonder at her influence. I think I might be 
 moved myself." 
 
 "Oh, no, it wasn't for her this time ; it was my own 
 decision and wish. I asked her to go with me. We 
 will take you, too." 
 
 "Where are you going and what brought this into 
 your mind. I don't believe it has gotten into your 
 heart yet." 
 
 "Will you go?" said Henry. 
 
 "That depends," replied he, "explain yourself." 
 
 "Wouldn't you like to hear a preacher answer this 
 question; 'Would Christ belong to a labor union?' " 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Richard, "it is the subject that 
 interests you, not the church." 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 19 
 
 "I guess that's it," replied Henry. "Anyway the 
 pastor of this large church up at the corner of North 
 avenue and Thirteenth street has advertised that as 
 his subject. He must be a pretty good fellow, and 
 that church just a little different from most others. 
 There must be some sympathy there and anxiety to 
 solve the difficult problems of the present date. Do 
 you care to go with us ?" 
 
 "You know," said Richard, "I don't go to church, 
 and in fact do not feel very guilty about it either, but 
 wherever there is the slightest effort to give the great 
 question of labor and its wrongs a hearing, I will be 
 glad to go and listen with both ears. Yes, my whole 
 heart, too." 
 
 "All right," said Elsie, "at ten o'clock I will be 
 ready." 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "at ten sharp the procession 
 will start, and Elsie will be captain." 
 
 "Ok, no," said she, "this is your doing, and you 
 are the leader. Richard and I will walk together and 
 you will lead the way." 
 
 "Say, Henry, have you seen the paper to-night?" 
 
 "No, I have not, Elsie has taken all my time talk- 
 ing about the Church; what is in the paper?" 
 
 "Oh, just filled about the strike. It is in a greater 
 mix-up than ever. The concessions that seem just 
 about to be made are farther away than yesterday, 
 
20 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 and the motormen and conductors are more deter- 
 mined than ever. The sad part of it is that they or 
 their false friends have been destroying- cars again, 
 and even injuring some people in a car on the out- 
 skirts in the eastern part of the city. That is death 
 to their cause, and ours, too. I kept saying to myself 
 all the way up here, 'Oh, the folly and blindness of 
 this method.' " 
 
 "That's so, I suppose," replied Henry, "but — well, 
 I don't know what to say — I know this, they are over- 
 worked and under paid and ought to have their 
 rights." 
 
 "Come out for a little walk to the barber shop, I 
 will bring you back to your sister in a few minutes 
 all cleaned up and in good religious shape for church 
 in the morning." 
 
 Elsie laughed as they walked out, and called down 
 the stairs: "Come back soon, Henry, I have some- 
 thing special for you when you get here." 
 
 They reached the street and had just turned toward 
 the barber shop when Richard said : "Henry, what 
 is that — see the crowd up the street, somebody must 
 be injured." 
 
 They hastened toward the rapidly increasing num- 
 ber of men, women and children. 
 
 Henry pushed his way toward the centre, and his 
 was not a push of curiosity, but of service. If there 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 21 
 
 was any suffering, he always wanted to relieve it. If 
 there was anybody receiving injustice he was anxious 
 to fight for him. His noble, unselfish soul was cry- 
 ing with him, "Let me help," and his lips and hands 
 carried it out into the world. It was the force of that 
 spirit that made the way. 
 
 Richard tried to follow in the wake of the great 
 ship ahead, but the crowd closed in behind him. 
 
 As Henry came toward the centre of the dense 
 throng, he kept inquiring: "What is the matter, 
 what is the matter?" but received no satisfactory re- 
 ply. No one seemed to know just what had taken 
 place, but Henry Fielding's quick eye and brave 
 heart were enough. He saw an old man with snow 
 white beard and with features and clothing of refine- 
 ment lying partially in the gutter. His hat had rolled 
 into the middle of the street, and his face was not 
 covered, but marked with blood. An ugly bruise was 
 upon his forehead, where he had struck the stones. 
 Instantly, Henry said: "Why don't you help him 
 up, why not carry him into the drug store over on 
 the corner, do something for him." 
 
 Most of the crowd moved back, but Henry placed 
 his strong arm under the fallen man's head and 
 shoulders, while two other men seized the lower part 
 of his body and carried him into the drug store. 
 
 With the aid of a physician, the insensible old man 
 came back to life. The doors had been locked and 
 
22 Stopped by a Strange Question. 
 
 the crowd kept out. Richard followed to the door 
 and was waiting for the result and the story. 
 
 When the injured man recovered sufficiently, he 
 said he could hardly tell what had happened; it all 
 came so suddenly, and was the farthest from any 
 thought of his. He was on his way to that very 
 drug store with a prescription to be filled out, and 
 had ridden in a downtown car. He was just alight- 
 ing from the car, when three men approached him 
 and asked him why he patronized a railroad run by 
 scabs and owned by a bloodthirsty corporation. Be- 
 fore he could even reply one of them had struck him 
 a blow which had felled him to the pavement. Then 
 they instantly vanished in the darkness. He could 
 not tell how they looked. It all happened so quickly, 
 and, of course, did not know whether they were rail- 
 road men or what they were. "Oh," he said, "I re- 
 member, one of them asked me if I did not know that 
 they had asked people not to ride on those cars, and 
 had warned them repeatedly against it, but of course 
 I did not have any chance to explain or declare my 
 rights or apologize or anything." 
 
 Everybody was expressing their indignation 
 against such a dastardly outrage, but Henry never 
 said a word. He completed his errand of mercy to 
 the last letter of every requirement, and then quietly, 
 and even unseen, withdrew. At the door he found 
 Richard waiting and anxious to hear the story. 
 
Stopped by a Strange Question. 23 
 
 Henry simply related the facts, but ventured no 
 opinion, only to say: "I am for the laboring man 
 and labor union, first, last and always. I believe in 
 a strike when necessary — yes, this strike, but he is 
 an enemy of his own cause who strikes his fellow." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 the; startling sermon. 
 
 The dawn of th", next morning carried the proph- 
 ecy of one of the brightest and most beautiful days. 
 It was a perfect October day, when the whole earth 
 seemed to be touched with the colors of another 
 world and musical with the harmony of heaven. The 
 birds were vieing with each other in their victorious 
 efforts to reach the highest notes, and even the silent 
 forces seemed to be giving motion to the waves of 
 song and joy. 
 
 The trees of the city park and the proud one at the 
 side of the street were clothed in the garments of 
 autumnal glory, many colored and royal. 
 
 Twice during the night Elsie had awakened with 
 the thought of the church service in the morning, and 
 each time struggled against her delight to forget it 
 and become sleepy again. 
 
 When at last it was daybreak and her eyes opened 
 to the clear sky and joyful earth, she brought her 
 hands together in the familiar style of her ecstacy, 
 and said aloud, "Oh, I am so glad I prayed last night 
 for just this, and my prayer has been answered j I 
 
The Startling Sermon. 25 
 
 knew it would be and nothing would hinder our 
 going." 
 
 Almost unconsciously she fell upon her knees and 
 uttered the simplicity and sweetness of her pure grati- 
 tude. 
 
 In the other room, Henry had awakened too, but 
 with far different thoughts and feelings. He could 
 hardly realize that it was Sunday and that his plans 
 for the day were at such variance with the several 
 years of the past. He wondered whether he wanted 
 to go after all. We are such prisoners of habit that 
 sometimes when we have broken the iron bars, we do 
 not know whether we want to escape or not. Man's 
 kingliness and divinity is in his power of escape, and 
 becoming a free slave of the better. 
 
 Elsie called out in her happy tone a "good-morn- 
 ing" and a "hurry up." 
 
 "All right," shouted he, "here goes for the promise 
 and the sermon." 
 
 Their breakfast was soon ready and the prepara- 
 tion for church made. 
 
 Ten o'clock came, but Richard had not arrived. 
 Elsie began to be restless and even nervous. She 
 walked to the window, then into the other room, and 
 said over and over again, almost in a prayer : "Oh, I 
 wish he would come." She was so fearful that his not 
 coming or something else might prevent Henry's go- 
 ing. He might say that they would be late, or he 
 
26 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 did not wish to go without Richard, or a thousand 
 other excuses which flashed through her mind, but 
 he did not, and when no step was heard at five min- 
 utes past ten, Henry said : "Come on, Elsie, we will 
 go down the stairs anyway, and possibly we will meet 
 him there. If not, we will hurry on without him." 
 
 When they came to the street, he was not there, 
 and they were just returning toward the corner when 
 from the opposite direction Richard was seen coming, 
 walking and running in a sort of friendly tangle, first 
 one and then the other. 
 
 Henry acted the sharp-shooter and fired at him at 
 long range : 
 
 "Where is your alarm clock?" 
 
 "Yes," said Elsie, "when you make an engagement 
 to walk to church with a young lady, and especially 
 under such circumstances, with a protector and leader 
 and guide, you ought to be on time. I rather ex- 
 pected you to be so happy about it and so anxious 
 that you would have been an hour ahead of time." 
 
 "Forgive me this once out of seventy times seven, 
 and I will do better next time," said Richard. "Real- 
 ly, it was not my fault. Come on and I will explain." 
 
 "Oh, we don't want any explanation," replied 
 Elsie. "Guilty, that's all, just guilty, and the penalty 
 will come some time." 
 
 "No mercy?" asked he, as he walked up to her side 
 and to his appointed place. 
 
The Startling Sermon. 27 
 
 "Well," answered Elsie, "we will see how good you 
 are, and if you go every Sunday and become so ac- 
 customed to it that you will never be late again." 
 
 "I guess we have time enough anyway," said 
 Henry, "there will be room enough. The churches 
 are not so crowded in these days that we need fear. 
 The only question will be whether Dick and I know 
 how to walk in and sit down and behave when we get 
 there. Anyhow, I am going to lose my prejudice 
 against the ministers and churches for this morning, 
 and listen with an honest purpose. I have thought 
 of that question a thousand times since I first saw it, 
 and I wonder just how he is going to answer it. I 
 think I can answer it, but I will wait until afterward." 
 
 "There are other things in church service besides 
 the sermon," said Elsie, "everybody ought to worship 
 God, and' I hope that spirit will be in all of us. It is 
 one of the commands, and it must be just as wicked 
 not to keep that one as not to keep the others." 
 
 Neither one of her companions made any reply, 
 
 but walked on in silence for half a square, when 
 
 . Henry said again: "If curiosity is sinful then I am a 
 
 sinner, because I will have to confess most of this 
 
 comes under that name. 
 
 The bulletin faced them at the corner again as it 
 had Henry the morning previous. They all glanced 
 at it, and hastened in, because the sound of the organ 
 was heard, and the service had already begun. 
 
28 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 At the door a friendly hand greeted them and 
 passed them on to another man of genial manner and 
 a smile of welcome. He ushered them to a seat in 
 the best place that was vacant, and it was not so for- 
 mal and cold and funereal and unattractive as im- 
 agination had pictured it. There was life in the 
 music, light in the building, sympathy in the prayer, 
 earnestness and enthusiasm in the spirit. 
 
 David Dowling was not an Apollo in appearance. 
 He was neither striking in figure nor movement. Yet 
 there was something about him that marked him as a 
 man. He was just in the prime of life, with a quick, 
 vivacious movement, a commanding attitude, and 
 vigorous speech. Five years ago he had parted his 
 hair on the left side ; two years ago it was parted on 
 the right side, and now it was departed. His intel- 
 lectual quality was strikingly manifest, and yet it was 
 not of the Arctic type. He lived in the temperate 
 zone, and almost near the unseen line of the torrid. 
 He had a great heart and knew the definition of sym- 
 pathy. His pulpit seemed to change into a throne, 
 and the king was in his place. 
 
 Henry and Richard both fastened their eyes upon 
 him, and it was a look of increasing admiration. Es- 
 pecially was this true when he arose and announced 
 his text and his subject, and declared his emphatic 
 and deathless determination to help the workingman 
 and bring him and his Christ into their right relation 
 
The Startling Sermon. 29 
 
 to each other. He said: "I have been criticised 
 severely for asking - this question : 'Would Christ 
 belong to a labor union?' Some have said it was 
 sensational. I am glad it is. Sensation is life. It 
 has in it the life of to-day. Shame, thrice shame, upon 
 a dead church and a dead preacher and a dead re- 
 ligion. If the Church does not touch the life of the 
 people, build it in the cemetery and call it sepulchre. 
 If the gospel has any meaning, it comes with tre- 
 mendous force into every part of human life. Christ 
 Himself created the greatest sensation by the subjects 
 which He treated and the methods which He adopted. 
 He is an enemy of the Church who whines and whim- 
 pers over sensation. He is preparing himself for 
 death and judgment both. Some others have said it 
 was bringing Christ down to ask this question con- 
 cerning Him. He brought Himself down to the car- 
 penter shop to save the workingman. God forbid 
 that we should take Him out of His chosen place. 
 The God of the heathen is not my God. He whom I 
 worship and adore and am ready to die for is Jesus 
 of Bethlehem and Nazareth and Calvary. He conde- 
 scended to the level of every man's life and work. 
 If He was on earth to-day He would have something 
 to say concerning the labor unions and something to 
 do with them. That is a part of His mission, and the 
 Church has been traitorous to the trust He has placed 
 in it." 
 
30 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 Then, with a long and effective pause, he said in 
 the almost oppressive silence of the audience: "Is 
 not this the carpenter? Jesus Christ is the best 
 friend the working-man ever had." 
 
 "Did not He stand by the bench ? Was not every 
 nerve and muscle in His human body weary with the 
 hardest toil ? Did He not wish some days that it was 
 six o'clock when it was only three ? 
 
 "How could it be possible that He would not have 
 the deepest sympathy for the man in the same place ? 
 Would He not belong to any organization for the ele- 
 vation of mankind? Anything that is good has the 
 co-operation of the Son of God. 
 
 "Would He belong to a labor union to-day? Let 
 any man who says not stand up and prove his case. 
 I declare unhesitatingly that every principle, every 
 interest, every act of the life He lived, every line of 
 the Book He inspired, is on the side of toiling men. 
 
 "The Church which bears His name and the 
 preacher who follows His example to-day must be in 
 sympathy with every righteous effort on the part of 
 organized labor. 
 
 "True Christianity must ever be in closest sym- 
 pathy with the working classes. It is true that some 
 members of the Church may oppress the working- 
 man and have little regard for the needs of the poor, 
 but that is not the spirit of the Gospel, nor what I 
 believe represents the real heart of the Church, 
 
The Startling Sermon. 31 
 
 "All members of the labor union are not true 
 friends of the poor, however. It is conceivable that 
 a walking delegate or an official may be friendly to 
 the laborer in order to get and hold an easy position, 
 and not be true to his profession. It is not just to 
 condemn a thousand men because of the falsity of 
 one. 
 
 "Christ taught and the Church still works toward 
 the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. 
 He drove that great truth into human society with 
 every stroke of His hammer in the shop of Nazareth. 
 
 "It is an unadulterated mistake on the part of the 
 working man to suppose that the Church has lost this 
 spirit. Most churches are on his side, and have a 
 royal welcome for the calloused hand that knocks 
 at their doors. 
 
 "There are hundreds of churches in the cities 
 which are now half empty, and would do anything 
 legitimate to bring every member of the labor unions 
 within their doors. 
 
 "I verily believe that the same spirit is in the 
 preacher, and he is giving sacrificial blood to save the 
 very men who will not come to hear him. The 
 Church is not far away from Christ, nor is it far 
 away from the labor union, as wicked and unjust 
 enemies are constantly declaring. 
 
 "Apart from the Gospel the labor union would 
 never have existed It was born in the principles of 
 
32 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 Christianity and rocked in the cradle of the Church. 
 There are no labor unions in the jungle of Africa. 
 There is no Christianity there. 
 
 "Christ was the author of brotherhood. He ut- 
 tered the sublimity of life, 'Do unto others as you 
 would that others do unto you.' He taught 'Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' 
 
 "The Sermon on the Mount ought to be the union's 
 creed. He gave the only possible and practical solu- 
 tion of the labor problem. 
 
 "There is a labor question. There always has been. 
 It existed when Christ was on the earth, only under 
 a different form. At heart, it was the same. It may be 
 more exaggerated now. The great labor movement 
 is of modern times ; revolts were local in the past, and 
 neither so widespread or continuous as to-day. What 
 is the purpose of this great movement now? It is 
 simply to procure for the laboring man a fuller and 
 more just proportion of the things which toil pro- 
 duces. Wealth has been marvelously increased by 
 inventive genius, and the control of natural forces and 
 riches. All men have shared in these advantages. 
 The poorest man has that now which the richest 
 could not have one hundred years ago, but there has 
 not been justice in this division. The concentration 
 of wealth has also impaired the interest of the work- 
 ingman. This present day movement on the part of 
 
The Startling Sermon. 33 
 
 labor seeks to level wages, shorten hours, to make 
 men less like machines, to break the shackles of slaves, 
 to improve the sanitary conditions of the factory and 
 place of toil, to remove danger and disease from their 
 environment. It seeks to protect women and chil- 
 dren and maintain the right to organize. This organ- 
 ized effort has had a marked and unquestioned effect 
 in bringing wages at a point of possible and even com- 
 fortable living. All this makes the labor question a 
 burning issue at the very heart of society. A glance 
 at the unorganized trade will reveal the difference. 
 The man who has no protection from an organiza- 
 tion is at the mercy of an employer who may be a 
 tyrant in spirit, and selfish to the last degree. A man 
 is justified in securing the men to perform his work 
 as cheaply as possible, but it is the business also of the 
 workingmen to get as much as possible for their 
 work. The labor organization may be wrongly 
 guided sometimes, but this is not an argument against 
 its necessity or benefit either. In the whole circle of 
 the years and effort, the result has been beneficial, 
 and not only for the laborer but for society also. You 
 improve the condition of the workingmen by wages, 
 hours and opportunity, and you give greatest blessing 
 to the community in which they live and work. 
 
 "There is a labor question — a burning question at 
 the very heart of society. It is traitorous to deny it. 
 
34 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 The Gospel of the Carpenter of Nazareth for the 
 labor union of which He would be a member is : 
 
 "Justice for the worker. 
 
 "Liberty for society. 
 
 "Salvation for the man. 
 
 "Justice is the supreme word in all demands of the 
 labor unions. They have been misunderstood and 
 misrepresented. A labor union has been supposed to 
 be another word for organized anarchy and social- 
 ism and nihilism. 
 
 "Labor unions believe in law. One of their most 
 righteous efforts has been to secure right legislation. 
 That is one of their first objects. 
 
 "They do not ask for sympathy. No kingly man 
 takes the attitude of a creeping beggar. They are 
 not crying at the door of society for sympathy. Nor 
 are they organized efforts to secure charity. 
 
 "Labor unions do not ask for the rich man's money 
 or any other man's money, but make just demands for 
 the workingman's money. They say : 'Give us jus- 
 tice in the hours of work and the remuneration for 
 service and the respect which every honest man de- 
 serves. We are not cattle, nor are we machines. 
 We are men.' 
 
 "And they have knocked at the doors of legislative 
 halls and demanded laws to control factories and 
 mines and every place where men are compelled to 
 
The Startling Sermon. 35 
 
 work, so that life shall not be imperilled nor health 
 sacrificed. 
 
 "Wonderful laws have they wrought out in this 
 respect. It was only a few years ago that all the laws 
 were made by employers, and no one can question 
 their partiality. Now the labor unions, by virtue of 
 their organized force, have been and are able to claim 
 attention and respect and representation. 
 
 "I congratulate them upon their attainment, and 
 also upon the day in which they are living. The 
 workingman was never so well off in the history of 
 the world as he is to-day. 
 
 "He has better wages, better hours, better homes, 
 better opportunities, better everything. No thought- 
 ful, honest man who has been a student of history 
 can question that statement. Nevertheless much re- 
 mains to be done in his interest, and I bid him god- 
 speed in the securing of complete justice. 
 
 "Justice is the word — do you hear me? Mistake 
 it not. Define it. Understand it. Believe it. Live 
 it. 
 
 "It has the greatest circumference of any word in 
 your vocabulary. 
 
 " 'Give each man his just share,' is the battle cry of 
 the labor union. And they ought to shout it and fight 
 it until the last enemy of labor lies dead on the battle- 
 field, and the last victory for right is won. 
 
 "The Christian employer will always meet them 00, 
 
36 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 their level, explain the condition of his business and 
 ask their judgment concerning their just proportion. 
 And it has always resulted in the same blessing of 
 harmony and mutual love and respect. This is not a 
 dream nor even an ideal. 
 
 "It is a magnificent reality. 
 
 "There is a gentleman in America who employs 
 one thousand hands. He was asked some time ago 
 when there was great trouble in the labor market : 
 
 " 'How are you getting on with your men ?' 
 
 " 'Oh,' he said, 'I have no trouble.' 
 
 " 'Why,' he was asked, 'have you not had any 
 strikes?' 
 
 u 'No,' he said, 'in all these years I have not had 
 even the shadow of trouble with my men.' 
 
 "The cry at the heart of every good labor organiza- 
 tion is not a selfish, grasping, greedy yelp. It is the 
 soul's cry for simple justice. 
 
 "The employer must learn to recognize it, and see in 
 every man some remnant of the image and likeness of 
 God which commands his respect, or there can be 
 and there will be no peace. 
 
 "But there is another element which is closely allied 
 to this, if not bound to it by the bonds of a holy 
 wedlock, that is, liberty for employer and em- 
 ployee, member of corporation and member of labor 
 unions, and every man, woman and child in the so- 
 ciety where unions and corporations exist. 
 
The Startling Sermon. 37 
 
 "One of the perils of the day in which we are living 
 is that that priceless treasure for which our ancestors 
 fought and died shall be taken away from us, even in 
 the times which are called peaceful. 
 
 "That which we fought to give the black man, in 
 Heaven's name, do not allow to be snatched away 
 from our grasp. Patrick Henry's cry might be ut- 
 tered to-day with just as much pathos and necessity 
 in it as the day when it echoed along these Eastern 
 shores of a new world and re-echoed through the 
 corridors of heaven: 'Give me liberty or give me 
 death!' 
 
 "You are free men. This is the snap of the slave 
 lash again. If a man wants to belong to a labor or- 
 ganization let him belong. If he does not let him 
 stay out. As you value your life keep your liberty to 
 say 'no.' You are king yourself. Let no man put a 
 manacle upon your hand or foot or head or heart. 
 
 "Society also has interests, and sacred ones, which 
 must be taken into account. The old blunder of pre- 
 ferring force to moral agency is the secret of failure. 
 Men have the right not to work, but have no right to 
 prevent other men from taking their places. 
 
 "The public will not tolerate this barbarous method. 
 Under no conditions will they allow the liberties of 
 those who desire to work to be destroyed. Neither 
 will they allow the perpetration of outrages upon 
 their own rights. 
 
38 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 "This is not the day when the obstinacy of a rail- 
 road president or the dissatisfaction of a few hundred 
 workmen can hurl injustice and inconvenience and 
 risk of life into the centre of millions of people. 
 
 "Every question which concerns the world of labor 
 is of vital interest to Christ and the Church and so- 
 ciety. Christ came to save the individual man and 
 everything of value to his life. He came to save him 
 for time as well as eternity. Anything which helps in 
 this great work of mankind and the redemption of 
 the world would have His assistance and blessing. 
 He would say again upon earth and whisper it in the 
 soul of every man : 'Come unto Me all ye that labor 
 ' and are heavy laden and I will give ye rest.' " 
 
 As he finished, Henry anxiously settled back in 
 his seat. He had been holding himself slightly for- 
 ward, and did not know it. He looked down at the 
 back of the seat in front of him, and Elsie could not 
 help but look toward him and wonder. 
 
 She breathed a silent prayer that he might be 
 pleased with the sermon, and that something might 
 come into his life that very moment to change it. 
 
 He sat like a statue until they arose for the bene- 
 diction. 
 
 When they reached the street, each one waited for 
 the other to break the silence. 
 
 Elsie could hardly hold back the query: "How 
 
The Startling Sermon. 39 
 
 did you like it?" But this was a peculiar occasion, 
 and she must wait. 
 
 At last Richard said : 
 
 "Well, Henry, what did you think of that?" 
 
 "I am glad I went," replied Henry. 
 
 "That is not enough," said Richard. "How did 
 you like the answer to your question ?" 
 
 "If I must be honest," said Henry, "it was a revela- 
 tion to me. The Church may not be as far away 
 from us and our interest as we think it is. One 
 preacher, anyway, is fair and courageous and sym- 
 pathetic. I believe that if the workingmen could 
 hear that kind of truth, the most of them would be 
 in the Church very soon. He did not go as far as I 
 wish he had, but it was a pretty long step." 
 
 Elsie's heart almost beat its way through the wall 
 of its prison. 
 
 Richard walked on, waiting for some one to ask 
 him what he thought, but no one seemed very 
 anxious to know, so at last he ventured to say : 
 
 "He has a great deal of magnetism and oratory in 
 him, hasn't he? You cannot help but listen." 
 
 "Yes," said Elsie, "I don't believe it was all in the 
 subject." 
 
 "That was not my special interest, but I would 
 like to hear him every Sunday." 
 
 "Yes," said Henry ; "he was so honest and earnest 
 that everybody would be drawn toward him. I con- 
 
40 The Startling Sermon. 
 
 fess that I had lost some of my prejudice before he 
 had begun his sermon." 
 
 "Will you go again ?" asked Elsie. 
 
 "I will not make any more promises now," said 
 Henry, "but Dick and I may get the same notion 
 again some day. Give this time to digest." 
 
 Richard said : "There is unquestionably a vast 
 amount of misrepresentation of the Church and mis- 
 understanding concerning it, and yet most of them 
 are as indifferent as the stones in their walls to the 
 wrongs of society and the needs of man. Why don't 
 they all discuss these burning questions, and in the 
 name of the Gospel they preach bring in the liberty 
 and justice and salvation of which he spoke this 
 morning?" 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "this is the opportunity of the 
 Church. The working men are not so far away from 
 its doors, if the Church people and preachers will only 
 bridge the little chasm. Sympathy, interest, fear- 
 lessness, truth are the stones and steel for that 
 bridge." 
 
 "Here we are already," said Elsie, "but you will 
 both have to go again with me." 
 
 "You don't need to urge me very hard," said Rich- 
 ard, as he extended his hand to her and said, "Good- 
 by." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RICH GIRl/S SACRIFICE. 
 
 As soon as her work was finished that afternoon 
 Elsie hastily made preparation to go out. 
 
 Henry did not ask any questions, because he knew 
 where she was going. 
 
 It was often a part of her Sunday to attend the 
 service at the mission in Ninth street. 
 
 She was deeply interested in the work they were 
 doing, but had gone more as a listener than a helper, 
 helper. 
 
 She wished to-day that she dared ask Henry to go 
 with her, but thought better not to go too far in one 
 day. 
 
 That is often the mistake of heart desire and 
 anxiety. 
 
 Zeal needs the bridle of tact, and love is better in 
 the companionship of wisdom. 
 
 In her delight over the morning's experience she 
 almost stepped upon the jewel and crushed it. 
 
 An unseen angel clasped her hand and led her the 
 right way. 
 
 It was a quick farewell and a look of affection, and 
 she was gone. 
 
 Henry called after her: 
 
42 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 "If I am not here when you come back, I will be 
 safe. I expect Richard, and we will be out some- 
 where this fine day." 
 
 After a musical "all right" had sounded back, 
 Henry said to himself and almost aloud : 
 
 "What a sweet, simple, sincere girl she is. I am 
 glad I had her come and give me the chance to sac- 
 rifice for her. She has her own temptations and 
 burdens, but knows how to meet them and carry 
 them. Her Christianity is real. It means some- 
 thing in her life." 
 
 He arose, and, with hands behind his head, gave a 
 Sunday afternoon yawn, and said : 
 
 "If there is no other proof on earth, here is one bit 
 of logic that stands the test. Yes, if it is good for 
 her, perhaps it is all my own fault that it has lost 
 its power over me. The sun cannot make a garden 
 in a cellar." 
 
 How unconscious she was of this irresistible influ- 
 ence over her brother, but that is the method of influ- 
 ence and the way of real Christian character every- 
 where. 
 
 Elsie had reached the mission and taken her usual 
 place near the door, waiting to be of any service in 
 teaching a class or as a listener in the Bible class, 
 when, to her astonishment, who should walk past her 
 and up toward the front of the small room but the 
 Rev. David Dowling. 
 
A Rich GirPs Sacrifice. 43 
 
 She wondered what brought him there, what rela- 
 tion he had with the work, and a whole chain of 
 questions. 
 
 She had been there several times, but never saw 
 him before. 
 
 He walked to the platform, and sat down in a va- 
 cant chair by the side of the superintendent. 
 
 She noticed how he smiled to this one and nodded 
 to another near him, and also, as he passed through 
 the room, how he touched with his hand of love a 
 little curly headed boy, and thus created another 
 smile in the world. 
 
 The recognition was instant, and a child's heart 
 enlarged to welcome new joy. 
 
 Elsie thought "he is just like his sermon ; he is a 
 practicing preacher. If Henry could only meet him 
 and know him." 
 
 She whispered to some one who sat near her, and 
 asked if Mr. Dowling came there very often. 
 
 "Oh, yes," was the reply. "You know this is a 
 mission of his church." 
 
 Elsie gave a look of surprise and a nod of thanks. 
 
 She almost forgot to give her attention to what 
 was going on about her, so absorbed was she with 
 her own thoughts. 
 
 "Isn't this strange ; what a peculiar coincidence, 
 though I am just as glad as I can be. I want to 
 meet him, and perhaps this is the opportunity." 
 
44 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 Just then some one approached her, and asked if 
 she would not teach a class of boys only for this 
 afternoon. 
 
 It was but a momentary hesitation on her part 
 when the consent was given. 
 
 She sat down right in the centre of the unattractive 
 group and tried to win their attention and their 
 hearts. 
 
 She could win almost anybody, but an angel di- 
 rect from heaven and commissioned to secure the at- 
 tention and affection of a class of boys in a mission 
 school might have to go back and report failure. 
 
 It was a tension upon her nerves, and a strain 
 upon her patience. 
 
 She never had such a time as this afternoon. She 
 had tried it before, and with some measure of suc- 
 cess. 
 
 There was one boy with unwashed hands and even 
 some remnants of last week upon his face. His hair 
 was uncombed and uncut. His clothing was not 
 ragged, but might have been even that with improve- 
 ment. He seemed to be just possessed with an evil 
 desire, and almost determination. He would not 
 listen, nor would he sit still ; more than that, he and 
 one or two others were pinching and pushing the 
 ones next to them, and even went so far as to make 
 paper balls out of their lesson leaflets and throw 
 them across the room. 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 45 
 
 In her heart she kept saying, "What shall I do ?" 
 and she might as well have said it in audible lan- 
 guage, for they knew what she was saying, and only 
 increased her trouble. 
 
 She was wishing and almost praying that no one 
 would see her and the class, and that the bell would 
 soon ring for the lesson to close, but the minutes 
 were so long, and still she talked on. 
 
 She tried to tell them stories outside of the day's 
 lesson to interest and attract attention, but with- 
 out avail. 
 
 Some one was a witness of her task and the tax up- 
 on her courage. Mr. Dowling stood at her side : 
 
 "I want to meet you and know you. I don't think 
 I have seen you here before, but I am so glad that 
 you are in this noble service." 
 
 She told him she had been there before, but not a 
 regular attendant. She added that she had been 
 anxious to meet him. 
 
 "Before the school is over," said he, "I want your 
 name and address, and now I would like to see one 
 of your boys for a moment." 
 
 While he was saying it he took the very one by 
 the hand who had been the cause of most of the 
 trouble, and led him to a side seat and sat down by 
 him, placed his arm around him and began whisper- 
 ing to him. 
 
46 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 Elsie could not hear what he was saying, but s"he 
 knew. 
 
 He was making it easier for her or somebody else 
 the next time. 
 
 What a holy mission that is on earth, preparing 
 the way for Christ or one of Christ's followers. 
 
 The superintendent had done a different work that 
 afternoon. 
 
 He had taken two of the scholars in another class 
 right out of their chairs and pushed them through 
 the doorway, as he said : 
 
 "When you can behave come back, and not be- 
 fore." 
 
 Perhaps both ways were right and accomplished 
 the object, but the first method seemed the most like 
 Christ, and to have the greatest saving force in it. It 
 was harder, but that is a part of Calvary. 
 
 Just at the close of the school the superintendent 
 said: 
 
 "We are always glad to hear from our pastor, and 
 I wonder if he has not something to say to-day." 
 
 There was silence as he arose, as there always was. 
 He said: 
 
 "I was reading this last week of a beautiful Chris- 
 tian young lady who wanted to teach in Sunday 
 school, and there was no class for her. The leader 
 told her to bring her own class, and he would find 
 a place for them. That week she found a ragged boy 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 47 
 
 on the street, asked him to come to her home, told 
 him she would give him some new clothing if he 
 would go to Sunday school with her the following 
 Sunday. He promised her he would. 
 
 "The first Sunday he was the only scholar; the 
 next Sunday he was the only scholar, and the third 
 Sunday he was not there at all. 
 
 "She did not give him up, but found him, and 
 found the clothes were being used for every day, and 
 almost worn out already. 
 
 "She tried him three times with clothes, and her 
 heart's best love, but he seemed to be bad, and only 
 bad, and her work a failure. She told the superin- 
 tendent so, and said she must give him up. 'There 
 was not anything in him ; he was deceitful and mean, 
 and they better let him go/ 
 
 " 'No,' said he, 'try him once more.' 
 
 "She did, and in the very spirit of Christ stayed 
 by her task* An angel could do no more. 
 
 "That boy," said Mr. Dowling, "was Dr. Robert 
 Morrison, the first and great missionary to China. 
 Mighty on earth and mighty in heaven! How do 
 you teachers know what you have been doing to- 
 day?" 
 
 Elsie knew he meant her, and thought : 
 
 "I will try it again if they want me to, and the very- 
 same class, too." 
 
48 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 As soon as the school was dismissed, Mr. Dowling 
 was at her side, and asked for her name and address. 
 
 He was waiting to write it, but she had already 
 written it upon a slip of paper and handed it to 
 him. 
 
 "Where is your church home?" he said. 
 
 "Well," she replied, "I hardly know what to say. 
 I have not been in the city very long, and have not 
 brought my letter to any church yet. I have been 
 to several different churches, but was to yours this 
 morning, and liked it very much." 
 
 "I suppose you came there because of your being 
 to the mission before?" 
 
 She hastened to reply, but he interrupted her by 
 asking: 
 
 "Where is your old home?" 
 
 "In Vermont," she answered. 
 
 "What part of it?" 
 
 She told him, and a look of surprise and mingled 
 delight passed over his face as he said : 
 
 "Why, I was brought up near there myself. Of 
 course, I have not lived there for many years, still 
 everything about that part of the country is familiar 
 to me. That makes me more interested in you. 
 Now, I cannot talk to-day, but I am coming to call 
 on you when you are home. Yes, if you want me to, 
 I will come this week. Let me see. I can call for a 
 few moments to-morrow evening." 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 49 
 
 "You will be welcome," said Elsie. 
 
 She wondered, and even partially sighed, as she 
 thought : 
 
 "We have so little, and in such a small place, I am 
 almost ashamed to have him come." 
 
 He walked away, came back in a moment, and 
 said: 
 
 "Before I go I want to introduce you to one of 
 our noblest young ladies, and one of the best work- 
 ers in my church, also in the mission here, and every- 
 where in the city. She is a very rich girl, the daugh- 
 ter of one of the greatest manufacturers in the coun- 
 try, but she sacrifices everything for Christ and the 
 good of others. I am sure you will be glad to know 
 her." 
 
 He turned, and motioned to a young woman near 
 by to come that way. As she approached, Elsie saw 
 an expression of character the like of which she had 
 rarely, if ever, seen. 
 
 Her features seemed to be the marks of Christ. 
 She was graceful in form and move. She carried a 
 certain charm which changed an introduction into a 
 long acquaintance. 
 
 It takes fifty years of introduction for some people. 
 It takes fifty seconds for others. 
 
 Familiarity and companionship always cost much 
 if they are valuable, but it comes more quickly in 
 some instances than in others. 
 
50 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 Elsie's first thought was : "What a chasm between 
 my condition and hers," but condition is not char- 
 acter, and the bridge was speedily swung across. 
 
 Mr. Dowling hastened away after the mere men- 
 tion of their names to each other. 
 
 Grace Chalmers and Elsie Fielding had little in 
 common except their devotion to Christ and a 
 worthy ideal for life. 
 
 Elsie could compete with her in that respect. 
 
 Character is the queen's throne, an ideal is the 
 golden sceptre in her hand. 
 
 Movement toward a high ideal is the act almost of 
 divinity, even if the most of time is passed in the nar- 
 row circle of two small rooms. Moving away from 
 the ideal is at once the tragedy and pathos of life. 
 
 They paused a moment in conversation and en- 
 tered into sympathy with each other concerning the 
 hard problem of a class of boys, for Miss Chalmers 
 had experienced just about the same trouble as Elsie 
 had. 
 
 As they moved toward the door, she said to Miss 
 Fielding : 
 
 "Which way do you go ?" 
 
 Elsie told her with some shadow of hesitancy. She 
 was not proud, but she was human. 
 
 "I am going that way myself," said she. "At least, 
 a part of the way, and you will have to let me go with 
 you." 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 51 
 
 As they walked on, she said : 
 
 "I think I saw you in church this morning. You 
 sat right behind us, and as I turned around after 
 the service I caught sight of you, and I think there 
 was a young gentleman with you." 
 
 "Yes," replied Elsie, "there were two of them. 
 My brother and a friend of his. I remember you, 
 too, but, of course, never thought of meeting you 
 again, and, in fact, I was a stranger to everybody 
 there. That was the first time, and I did not know 
 until to-day that the mission belonged to that 
 church." ' 
 
 "How did you like the church?" 
 
 "Oh, very much," replied Elsie. "I couldn't tell 
 much about the building and the music, because it 
 was the sermon that especially interested us. My 
 brother was very anxious to have that question an- 
 swered." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Chalmers, "we were all interest- 
 ed in it, and I think this sermon was good and the 
 subject ought to be talked about, but my father, 
 while he does not say much, I know feels that the 
 pulpit better leave such questions alone. Of course, 
 he is a little'out of sympathy with some of the views 
 brought out this morning. He is a manufacturer, 
 and that is a standpoint he declares different from 
 the pulpit. He says the ministers do not understand 
 the situation and the difficulties. They are in danger 
 
52 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 of allowing their sympathies to run away with their 
 judgment. If they had a few strikes on their hands, 
 they might be able to preach upon the labor ques- 
 tion. He said when we reached home this noon that 
 when he went to church he wanted to hear the Gos- 
 pel and not any discussion of the labor unions, but 
 I am glad that Mr. Dowling has the courage to face 
 the employers and speak the truth to them as well 
 as everybody else. He does not hesitate or stop for 
 anybody. All get treated alike with him, and he says 
 if the Gospel means anything it means the solution 
 of the labor question, and all other questions, and he 
 is commissioned of Heaven to bring the principles 
 of Christianity to bear upon every part of human so- 
 ciety. He is a noble man, and does not bend his 
 principle for anybody or anything. It hurts some- 
 times, but he says : 'The truth Jesus uttered had the 
 same effect.' " 
 
 Just then Elsie could not have been more aston- 
 ished had an earthquake shaken the stones beneath 
 her feet. They were at the corner, and from the 
 other street came Henry and Richard, as if it had 
 been timed by the watch. 
 
 They came face to face with them. 
 
 Elsie recovered instantly from her surprise, and 
 said : 
 
 "Well, I didn't expect to meet you, but I am glad 
 I did, because I want to make Miss Chalmers ac- 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 53 
 
 quainted with my brother and his friend, Mr. Hard- 
 ing." 
 
 There was a look in Henry Fielding's eye which 
 only he who is skilled in reading character and un- 
 derstanding the vast meaning in a glance or single 
 expression could understand, or would even notice. 
 Some new element of life had suddenly appeared and 
 crossed his pathway. Was it an angel ? 
 
 After a moment's conversation Grace said she had 
 been delighted to meet them, but must hasten home- 
 ward, as this was her corner. 
 
 She disappeared in the direction of Flower ave- 
 nue, where her home stood among those of the rich. 
 
 "Well," said Henry, "where did you find her?" 
 
 "Oh, I have had the strangest experiences this af- 
 ternoon ; but first tell me if you do not think she has 
 a beautiful way." 
 
 "Yes, and even a beautiful face." 
 
 "Yes," replied Richard, "but you didn't give us 
 time enough to take in the situation or the beauty, 
 either." 
 
 "That's right," said Henry, "before I recovered 
 from being startled and stunned, she was gone. 
 Who is she, anyway?" 
 
 "She is one of the richest girls in the city," said 
 Elsie, with a faint desire to tease and increase curi- 
 osity. 
 
 "What nonsense," said Henry. "You will have to 
 
54 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 tell us where you met her, and all about her, before 
 we believe such a story as that ; what can you have 
 to do with one of the richest girls in the city ? We 
 must have gone to the planet of Mars if we have 
 been introduced to a rich girl. That is not our so- 
 ciety on the earth." 
 
 "Oh," said Elsie, "I do not believe the rich and 
 the poor are so far apart as it is pictured sometimes. 
 Character and education and ambition — yes, real 
 Christianity, are bringing them nearer together. It 
 is just as true as I said it. That is Grace Chalmers ; 
 she is rich, and her father is a great manufacturer. 
 They sat right in front of you in church this morn- 
 ing, and — and ' 
 
 "Hold on, hold on," said both voices at the same 
 time, "that is enough, give us the explanation. The 
 facts seem like ghosts ; put the clothes of reality upon 
 them," continued Henry. 
 
 "Who else do you think I met this afternoon?" 
 was the only answer Elsie made. 
 
 "Never mind," said Henry, "tell us about the first 
 case first." 
 
 They had now reached the door, and Henry said : 
 
 "Come up, Dick ; you will have to hear the rest of 
 this strange story." 
 
 "The rest of it," said he. "I have not heard any 
 of it yet, but here goes for the end of the chapter." 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 55 
 
 When they reached the rooms, they both declared 
 that Elsie had delayed and tantalized enough. 
 
 "Now out with the whole thing," said Henry. 
 
 "Yes, not take off hat or anything else; sit right 
 there," said he, and make this startling revelation." 
 
 Then she told him of her amazement at seeing 
 David Dowling come into the mission, of his pleas- 
 ing manner, of the light and joy he seemed to carry. 
 She related her trouble with the class and his er- 
 rand of love and kindness to her, and the unman- 
 ageable boy, also the story he told the school, and 
 how she knew it was all for her sake. 
 
 Then came the most interesting part of it, and not 
 a word had been said by her listeners up to that 
 point, and neither ventured a question now, only 
 with their eyes. 
 
 They looked toward each other with an expression 
 of wonder if it was all so, and yet if Elsie told it, 
 they knew it must be true to the letter. 
 
 Then she went back in her story to tell how he had 
 asked her name and address, and after the service 
 she had to give it to him ; also of his saying that he 
 was coming to call. 
 
 Now a bright smile played on Richard's face, and 
 he said : 
 
 "Henry, that is for you. You will meet the parson 
 now, and be good again." 
 
 "Nonsense," replied Henry. "I have been once, 
 
56 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 but have not promised to go again, and I do promise 
 to be away if I know when he is coming to see El- 
 sie. But how about this rich girl?" 
 
 "He called her over to where I was standing and 
 introduced her to me, and left us to talk a moment, 
 and then to walk home together." 
 
 "How do you know about her father and her 
 money, and the seat in the church, and all that?" 
 
 "He told me a part of it, and she told me the rest. 
 Of course, Mr. Dowling gave me the information 
 about her wealth, and he also said she had the great- 
 est riches of character; that she was one of the 
 noblest young women in the city, so pure in heart 
 and unselfish in life. She was interested in every 
 good work, and loved to help the poor and work for 
 them in the mission and everywhere." 
 
 "She must be an exception," said Henry. "I don't 
 believe she moves in a large circle of her kind. That 
 class of people are few in this city. Most of those 
 with money are just living for themselves. What do 
 they care for the suffering and sorrowing and starv- 
 ing poor? They are as far away from them as if 
 they lived in China." 
 
 "You must remember," said Elsie, "that China is 
 not very far away, and all people in this world come 
 closer to each other than they think. You may be 
 right, and yet partially wrong, Henry. There is not 
 such a great gulf between the working people and 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 57 
 
 those with money. It is possible to cross from one 
 side to the other, anyway, and some of the rich people 
 are doing more than anybody knows, except God. I 
 was reading in the paper only yesterday of a poor 
 woman who attempted suicide by jumping from the 
 pier. She held her starving child to her bosom. 
 They rescued her, more dead than alive, and carried 
 her to the hospital. In the night she died, and that 
 next afternoon one of the richest ladies in the city, 
 the wife of one of the largest business men in Amer- 
 ica, came with her carriage to get the orphan and 
 crippled child, and care for it as her own. Was not 
 that Christ-like? Even Jesus could not do better 
 with money than that, and that is only one of thou- 
 sands of like cases, I believe." 
 
 "That is good to say, and rather sweet to think," 
 said Henry; but, Elsie, you don't see and know 
 what I do. That is only a drop in the great ocean 
 of want and wrong." 
 
 "I cannot help it," replied she, "I still believe 
 there is a great deal of good in this world, and some 
 unselfishness among the well-to-do class." 
 
 "Some is a good word, sister," said Henry; "but 
 what more do you know about Miss Chalmers?" 
 
 "Ah," said Richard, "that question is a window. 
 The light is in Henry's heart now. That shows 
 where his interest is. I thought he would not care 
 whether there was any woman in the world besides 
 
58 A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 
 
 his sister and mother, and now he is suddenly 
 changed. What will not an hour do?" 
 
 "More than run the minute hand around the face 
 of a clock," answered Henry. 
 
 "How strangely circumstances change and things 
 work out in this world," said Elsie. "Wasn't it a 
 peculiar thing that I should meet these very people 
 whom we saw and heard this morning, and I not 
 know that the mission had anything to do with the 
 church to which Henry was taking us? Anyway, I 
 am just delighted, and I am going to that church all 
 the time now, and do more in the mission, too, than 
 I have done. This has been a new day in my life." 
 
 "It seems like one in mine, too," said Henry. 
 
 "I belong to the family, Elsie says, and it must be 
 in mine, too," said Richard. 
 
 "Was her father at church this morning, I won- 
 der," said Henry. "He probably does not go to 
 church, or the preacher would not ask that question 
 in his sermon, and answer it as he did." 
 
 "Yes, he was there," said Elsie ; "his daughter told 
 me so." 
 
 "Well, I think more of that minister than I did 
 before. I supposed he was like all the rest of them, 
 afraid to speak the truth unless it pleased the people 
 who paid his salary." 
 
 "I do not think you need look at Mr. Dowling 
 more than once," said Elsie, "to know that he has 
 
A Rich Girl's Sacrifice. 59 
 
 the courage of his convictions and would speak any 
 time and any place what he believed God told him to 
 say." 
 
 "I believe that, too," said Richard. "I like to 
 agree with your sister, Henry, on general principles, 
 but in this she is certainly right. I believe the man 
 who preached that sermon this morning is both 
 honest and heroic. Your world and mine is changed 
 somewhat by it, and if that kind of sermons were 
 preached in every pulpit, with backbone and heart 
 and blood in them as well as brain, the churches 
 would be crowded and society would be saved. The 
 enmity between classes and the fighting between em- 
 ployers and employees would cease. Men who do 
 not go to church are not necessarily totally bad and 
 destitute of all conscience and religion. They want 
 to have the truth given application to the burning 
 questions of the day. Don't you think, Henry, that 
 most men in our factory have respect for Chris- 
 tianity and a belief in it, and even respect for the 
 Church; but they don't believe in the present cold 
 and impractical methods of pulpit platitudes." 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "David Dowling is on the 
 right track, and we will go again." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A STORMY NIGHT IN UNION NO. 10. 
 
 "You will have to make haste with me to-night, 
 Elsie," was the way Henry greeted his sister the 
 following evening, as he rushed in from work, and 
 at once began hurried proceedings to get ready to 
 go out again. 
 
 "What makes you in such a rush to-night?" she 
 asked. "Is there something unusual at your meet- 
 ing?" 
 
 '"Yes," he replied, "we expect a stormy night over 
 the treatment of the street car men who are out on 
 a strike, and besides, we are threatened with a lock- 
 out ourselves." 
 
 "Well, you need not go on such a run through the 
 house, and through your supper. You will have am- 
 ple time." 
 
 "No, I have not," he answered; "there are some 
 things which I want to arrange before the hour, and 
 I am on a committee which meets a half hour pre- 
 vious to the regular meeting." 
 
 "Oh, Henry, I believe you, and always believe 
 you," with a bright flash in her eye, and a smile dart- 
 ing across her face, "but I just happened to think of 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 61 
 
 something, and I know you have thought of it, and 
 that is the secret of your hurry to-night. The 
 other may be in it, but this is in it, too. Come on, 
 the table is all ready, and I will do my part to make 
 no mistake in the schedule time. If the train is late, 
 it will not be my fault." 
 
 "What do you mean by your conundrum?" 
 queried Henry. 
 
 "Oh, you know." 
 
 "No, I don't; and that answer is neither a black 
 one nor a white one." 
 
 "Just think a moment while you are loosening your 
 collar button." 
 
 "Do you mean the preacher's coming here?" asked 
 he. 
 
 She laughed, and said : 
 
 "That is the old way of crawling out. Asking a 
 question, and in the interrogation mark is the whole 
 story. You are just trying to get out before he 
 comes." 
 
 She did not say it, but could not help wishing 
 something would break, or Mr. Dowling would 
 come earlier, or almost anything so that he would 
 meet Henry before he went. 
 
 "You are not blind, Elsie. To tell the truth, I 
 am quite willing to be down the stairs and about a 
 block away when he gets here. I have not anything 
 against him, but a great deal now in his favor. Yet 
 
6z A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 a minister is not just my kind, and I would as soon 
 be necessarily absent. You are a church girl, and 
 can talk all evening with him. I have not anything 
 in common, you know, and you can give my re- 
 grets. I don't know just what I mean by that, but 
 you give it just the same." 
 
 Henry followed to the letter the prescription for 
 dyspepsia, and swallowed his food without injury to 
 its form or feelings, and quickly finished his dress by 
 throwing on his coat and hat at the same time. 
 
 He started to the door, and was saying good-night 
 to Elsie, when there was a footstep in the hall, and 
 a careful rap at the door. 
 
 Elsie understood that strange and expressive look 
 upon Henry's face — almost a startled appearance. 
 
 She said : "Open the door." 
 
 As he did, a ringing voice, laden with joy, said : 
 
 "Good-evening, Mr. Fielding ; I have not met you, 
 but I know you. Anybody could tell that you were 
 the brother whom your sister told me about." 
 
 Henry was embarrassed for a moment, but quick- 
 ly recovered to say : 
 
 "Come in ; you are very welcome ; of course, I 
 know who you are, too. I have seen you before." 
 
 Elsie immediately arose to greet him, and offer 
 him their best chair. 
 
 "You will have to excuse me for coming so early, 
 because when I promised you to call I forgot that I 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 63 
 
 had another engagement for the evening which I 
 could not break, and so came here for a moment on 
 my way." 
 
 Henry was waiting, and almost holding his breath 
 to get the first opportunity to say : "You will have 
 to accept my apology for going, because I was on 
 my way to the door just as you came." 
 
 At last he said it, and added : "I suppose that does 
 not make any difference, because you came to see my 
 sister, anyway, and not me." 
 
 "Oh, no," said Mr. Dowling, emphatically. "I 
 know about you, and rather think it was as much 
 for you, if not more." 
 
 He was quick to read character and look through 
 the surface of circumstances. He knew what would 
 please Elsie best, and at the same time be at least a 
 silk thread around Henry, whom he was already 
 anxious to take as a prisoner for Christ. 
 
 No one knew how his heart went out to save men, 
 especially young men away from home and away 
 from God. 
 
 Whenever he saw a noble-looking fellow like 
 Henry outside of the Church, and a good, honest 
 purpose in his soul, he said : "It seemed as if Cal- 
 vary was upon him." 
 
 The people who only heard him preach did not 
 get into the secret of his life. Sometimes even his 
 methods and subjects of sermons and utterances were 
 
64 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 misunderstood and criticised, and even condemned, 
 yet through everything he did and said there ran the 
 one purpose — to help fulfill the holy mission of his 
 Saviour. 
 
 He could begin a sermon almost anywhere, but 
 he never failed to end it at the Cross. 
 
 The moment he saw Henry Fielding he detected a 
 man for whom Christ died, and worthy of his best 
 efforts. Henry's apparent anxiety to go only made 
 him more anxious to reach him in some way, and 
 he felt that it was not to be a task marked impossible. 
 
 It is this spirit in a consecrated man's soul which 
 is always victorious. 
 
 When Henry closed the door he could not refrain 
 from saying: 
 
 "I heard your sermon yesterday, and I am coming 
 again." 
 
 "I thank you," said Mr. Dowling; "I shall look" 
 for you." 
 
 He turned toward Elsie and remarked : 
 
 "You evidently have a noble young man for your 
 brother. He carries the marks and bears inspec- 
 tion." 
 
 "Yes," said Elsie, "there is only one thing lack- 
 ing; if he would only become a Christian and a 
 member of the Church, I would think he was per- 
 fect." 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 65 
 
 "I imagined he was not much of a Church fel- 
 low, but we will bring him." 
 
 "I would be so happy if that could be," replied 
 she; "I would give up anything in the world if it 
 would only come true. I cannot tell you how happy 
 I was. I think I was the nearest to heaven I have 
 ever been last Sunday morning when he went to 
 church with me, and it was all his own suggestion. 
 I know God has answered my prayer. I have asked 
 Him a thousand times to do this, and He has worked 
 out everything so strangely and yet so beautifully." 
 
 "Tell me about it," said Mr. Dowling. 
 
 Then Elsie related to him the story of the church 
 bulletin, the labor union, Richard Harding, the 
 service and their pleasure in the sermon. "Now, 
 this is the strangest part of it. I know some people 
 would say, 'Oh, it was just chance,' but I know God 
 answers prayer. Why should I go to the mission 
 yesterday afternoon ? I had only been occasionally, 
 but I seemed impressed with a certain resistless 
 necessity that I must go. I had to hasten more than 
 ever, and I was late at that, but I went. Then, to 
 my astonishment, I saw you there for the first time, 
 met other friends who had seen us in the morning, 
 even to be interested and friendly enough to walk 
 home with me, and, strangest of all, to meet my 
 brother and his friend Richard on the corner of the 
 
66 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 street where Miss Chambers and I were to separate. 
 Now he has met you." 
 
 "Well," interrupted Mr. Dowling, "that is a chain 
 which only a higher power could forge. The eyes of 
 the world do not discover the working and are blind 
 to the intricate methods of His answer, but the in- 
 tricacy does not destroy the validity." 
 
 "That is just what I believe," said Elsie. "I know 
 my prayer has been answered, and I am sure the 
 end is not yet." 
 
 "Just what is the reason for his not going to 
 church?" asked Mr. Dowling. 
 
 "I do not believe he has a good one," answered 
 Elsie, "but he thinks he has. I fear he misunder- 
 stands the Church and its real work in the world. 
 He thinks you ministers have no sympathy with the 
 workingmen, and the churches are just for the rich 
 and well-to-do. I fear he has gotten to be almost a 
 socialist, or something like that. I do not believe 
 he is an infidel. I know he believes in God. Yes, 
 I know he believes in Christ. But, then, he says 
 there is little of the real spirit of Christ in the 
 Church. He does not believe it is very anxious, 
 if desirous at all to have him and his class. He 
 witnesses so much injustice in society and so many 
 wrongs placed upon the laboring men that he says 
 his work is in the labor union, and he can make the 
 best fight for the right there. He is one of their 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 6j 
 
 best workers and most enthusiastic supporters. He 
 is on committees, and has held office, and even makes 
 speeches sometimes. Yes, he has advocated strikes, 
 and been a participant in them. The one now go- 
 ing on is taking all his interest. It is in all this, Mr. 
 Dowling, he thinks the Church stands off on one side, 
 and is deaf to the cry of real need and speechless 
 before the deepest necessities and darkest sins in hu- 
 man society." 
 
 David Dowling had been looking right at Elsie 
 when she began to tell him this story, but before 
 she was half-way through his eyes were upon the 
 floor at his feet, and his mind and heart were fol- 
 lowing every word that she uttered. At her first 
 real pause he shook his head and said : 
 
 "I am afraid he is not the only one." 
 
 "No," said Elsie, "his friends, and in fact, all his 
 associates, feel just the same. He says there are one 
 hundred and fifty men in his place of business, and 
 only three of them go to church." 
 
 "There must be some reason for all this. I hardly 
 know what to say about it," replied Mr. Dowling. 
 "Only I know this, that there has not been anything 
 in all my recent ministry that has troubled me more 
 than this, and by God's help I am going to do my 
 best to change this feeling on their part. Of course, 
 they are wrong in a measure, but is not the Church 
 to blame, also ? Anyway, Miss Fielding, I promise 
 
68 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 you to do my best for your brother, and I believe 
 he can be saved for the Church and be a wonderful 
 element in the work of bringing the unions and the 
 churches nearer together. Perhaps they do not un- 
 derstand us, and I am quite sure we do not under- 
 stand them. 
 
 "Now I will tell you what we will do. You come 
 to our church, take your class in the mission, be 
 one of us in interest and service, and we will gradual- 
 ly get into his heart and life. You cannot do the 
 greatest things in the world all at once. We will 
 be patient, but persistent. It is easier to turn elec- 
 tricity or steam into a new channel than it is a life. 
 I am convinced that any man can be reached by love 
 and the spirit of God. You get him to come next 
 Sunday. I will watch for him, and be sure to grasp 
 his hand, and also to introduce him to some of our 
 best people. We will use all means toward the same 
 end." 
 
 "He is so opposed to it all," said Elsie, "that I am 
 afraid, and yet I will try not to lose any faith, but 
 will just give all my prayers to this, and I am so glad 
 that you have come. I believe God sent you, al- 
 though I was almost ashamed of these two rooms 
 as being all of our home, and being up three flights 
 of stairs, but now I do not care, and I will tell you 
 more about him some time, and my coming here, 
 and why everything is just as it is." 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 69 
 
 "That is what I want to know," replied he, and in 
 his tone was deep interest in everything which con- 
 cerned others. 
 
 "But I must go," he continued, as he looked at his 
 watch. 
 
 His call had been an informal one, even if it had 
 been the first. It did not carry the professional air, 
 but a warmth of love that made her say three times 
 before he had closed the door "that she wanted him 
 to come again." 
 
 When he had disappeared she sat down alone in 
 the room with some of the strangest thoughts and 
 feelings of her life, mingled joy and wonder and 
 hope. Yes, in the combination was an element of 
 faith — simple, yet confident. 
 
 She was powerful in her womanly characteristics, 
 yet childlike in her purity and simplicity. 
 
 She bowed her head to the table and only thought 
 at first, when almost unconsciously she was praying, 
 and the tears of deepest gratitude were dropping up- 
 on her hands, while angels came from heaven to 
 gather up the precious jewels. 
 
 Her brother was also passing one of the sign- 
 boards of his life and stood at the fork of the roads. 
 
 Oh, that he might turn to the right. Every man 
 has strategic points in life. He is victor who follows 
 his vision. The man who refuses to see or refuses to 
 obey is lost. 
 
jo A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 It was a stormy night in Union No. 10. 
 
 The necessary business had been transacted, and 
 the time was ripe for interest and enthusiasm in the 
 one absorbing topic. Not only was there a strike on 
 the part of their fellow-workingmen, but they were 
 standing before a lock-out in one of the factories 
 where several hundred of the men were employed. 
 As far as they could see, they were absolutely guilt- 
 less. 
 
 Of course, there had been some talk of objection 
 to the introduction of new machinery to take the 
 place of the men, and especially the skilled men, and 
 now the company, some one represented, had sent to 
 a distant city, and were shipping in a whole crowd of 
 non-union men to take their places. 
 
 It was only report, but enough evidence around it 
 to convince them of a foundation in fact. 
 
 Every man was ready to have something to say, 
 even if he had never attempted a speech in the meet- 
 ing. 
 
 Most of the sentiment uttered was bitter, and many 
 of the words were bullets. 
 
 The whole spirit was fight — and why not ? It was 
 a question of right and justice. A question of bread 
 and home. 
 
 Frank Peters, one of the leaders in speech, de- 
 clared that it was more than that. It was just as 
 great a question as lay in front of Abraham Lincoln 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 71 
 
 when he signed the Emancipation Proclamation. It 
 was a question of liberty. "We are slaves to the pres- 
 ent system," he shouted, and everybody cheered. His 
 blood was now at the boiling point as he cried: 
 "Fight ! Yes, fight ; that is our only hope. I would 
 just as soon carry a musket in this cause as to carry 
 any gun that was shouldered in the War of the Re- 
 bellion. Yes, rather. This battle and this cause is 
 farther reaching. We ought to cry in the labor 
 unions, 'Liberty and Union now and forever, one 
 and inseparable.' It is inseparable from our 
 unions, and the victory we must have and will 
 have." 
 
 Again the applause was tremendous, and he 
 scarcely waited for silence before he plunged into a 
 wave of his own kind of eloquence against the crim- 
 inality of this present proceeding upon the part of 
 the employers. 
 
 "They want everything, and are willing to use us 
 only as machines. When the machine can do more 
 or better, we must be thrown out to be the old, 
 worn-out, rusty rubbish of society. I, for one, stand 
 firmly against the whole infamous proceeding, and 
 will starve before I give up the fight." 
 
 He sat down amidst a roar of noise, part talk and 
 part the confusion of approval, but before order was 
 restored Tim Marden was entering vigorously and 
 almost violently into the discussion. 
 
72 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 He began talking about the street car strike, and 
 the perfect justice of their cause. Their hours were 
 too long, and their pay was too small, and there was 
 no help for them, only in making their righteous 
 demands, and, when they were refused, to strike. 
 
 Some one interrupted : "Yes, but they might have 
 tried to arbitrate it first." 
 
 The interrupter was silenced, and the speaker 
 went on : 
 
 "Neither we nor they have much sympathy from 
 any source. The public does not appreciate our po- 
 sition and does not realize our wrongs, nor the in- 
 justice we are constantly suffering. Neither do they 
 understand that if it was not for our unions it would 
 be a thousand times worse. They do not know how 
 we have by hard fight secured all the advantages we 
 now possess, and that the iron heel would press us 
 harder than it does if we did not 'squirm and twist 
 and struggle as we do. The people outside of our 
 organization will come to see differently some day. 
 Keep up the battle, my boys, keep it up. The 
 Church and the ministers have religion, but in the 
 place where it ought to be practiced most, not an 
 atom of it is seen. Some of them do not know what 
 religion is. Why don't they help our cause, if they 
 are harping all the time on the Golden Rule and the 
 Sermon on the Mount ? They ought to be the first 
 to help us, and they could if they would, but they 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 73 
 
 don't seem to have any sympathy whatever. They 
 are afraid of losing their support by losing Sam Dex- 
 ter and his kind — millionaire church members. They 
 would rather have him than help us. I tell you, the 
 whole business is out of shape. Society and religion 
 and everything. 
 
 "See that hand ?" said he, and he pushed out his 
 great palm in front of him with an energy which al- 
 most dislocated it. "That will be palsied and dead 
 before I give up the battle. I will help the street car 
 men, and every other man, and that right arm, I 
 hope, will wither and die while I live and drop from 
 its socket if I do not keep my promise." 
 
 They gave another cheer to the echo, and some 
 one else took the floor to swear allegiance to Union 
 No. 10 and make a plea not to give in. 
 
 A half dozen were attempting at one time to say 
 their say, but the man who had the best lungs had 
 his chance first. 
 
 There was one young man in that company who 
 was having the greatest struggle of his life. The 
 severest demands were being made upon his moral 
 heroism. A deep conviction was in his soul. Should 
 he hide it or slay it, or swear allegiance to it even 
 though he faced the mouths of a thousand cannon? 
 He had spoken before. They were always glad to 
 hear him, and sometimes called for him, but now he 
 was trying to hide himself and answer the voice 
 
74 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 which only his own soul heard. It was clear and 
 distinct. There was no question about its demands 
 and its reality. 
 
 Henry Fielding was not a Wendell Phillips, but he 
 lived in the same world, and in his own sphere was 
 subjected to the same forces and experiences. 
 
 He had only the week before read a part of the 
 life of Phillips. It was now fresh and vivid and em- 
 phatic in his memory. The great man's life was so 
 far removed from his that he had never thought of 
 bringing even the illustration to bear upon his own 
 day and own world. 
 
 How little we know of the meaning of a single in- 
 cident in another life, or a single sentence from an- 
 other lip in its relation to ours. The page of a book 
 may make the paper of a kite which carries the first 
 strand of the bridge over an impassable chasm. 
 
 Henry had been reading with great interest of that 
 wonderful hour in American history when the young 
 patrician, Wendell Phillips, was in his law office in 
 Boston and heard the shouts of a mob in the street ; 
 how he rushed to his window to see the citizens of 
 his own city dragging William Lloyd Garrison over 
 the pavements with a rope about his neck. The 
 blood marks were left upon the sharp stones. They 
 cursed him and kicked him, but he shouted that he 
 would not be silent, but must be heard. 
 
 The young lawyer, with a lofty plan for life — a pol- 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 75 
 
 ished attorney for the higher class — looked out upon 
 that cruelty and inhumanity, only to find his blood 
 becoming hotter in his veins, while he stamped his 
 foot in indignation as he closed the window, and sat 
 down in the struggle with his own soul. 
 
 He, in that sacred moment^ heard Christ say: 
 "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of 
 these, ye did it unto me," and when he heard the 
 Saviour of men say that, he made the holiest resolu- 
 tion of his life : 'I will follow the right and the lib- 
 erty of my fellow-men, even if they mob me and I die 
 in the shame of a wicked age." 
 
 Then on the platform of Fanueil Hall he arose to 
 deliver that famous speech, amid the hisses and 
 abuses of some of the best-known people in 
 America, but he braved the cyclone of wrath, and 
 suffered for Christ's sake, until in the years, the very 
 people who slandered him, and would have murdered 
 him had they dared, led their children to his monu- 
 ment in that same city, and told them to read his 
 name and never forget it, because it was one of the 
 greatest on all the pages of history. 
 
 This wonderful act of sacrifice and heroism had 
 made such an impression upon Henry that when it 
 came back now, it was with renewed emphasis. 
 Some things grow in memory as well as in the soil. 
 God's sunlight falls upon it, and heaven's drawing 
 
J 6 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 power brings an oak out of an acorn here, as well as 
 upon the hillside. 
 
 His struggle was in a smaller circle, but it was just 
 as intense. 
 
 Conscience and duty and right had just as much to 
 do with it. Yes, sacrifice may be covered in Henry 
 Fielding's life, but it was covered only because of its 
 value and sanctity. Life was not dear to him. He 
 was now hearing only part of the fiery speeches, just 
 enough to bring more heat to his own burning con- 
 victions. 
 
 Some things had been said here and before this 
 which he knew were too extreme and almost past the 
 boundary line of truth. The wholesale condemna- 
 tion of the Church and the ministers in their rela- 
 tion to the labor union was unjust, and he never, 
 until now, had realized it. 
 
 He had thought and said the same thing, but he 
 kept repeating to himself "there is one bright excep- 
 tion I know, anyway, and there must be others." 
 Perhaps we have injured our cause as much as they 
 or anybody else have injured it, by not investigating 
 and understanding the churches and their people, 
 and then making such broad and sweeping state- 
 ments. Ought not somebody to 
 
 Just then Paul Spaulding secured the floor. He 
 was a bright young fellow, who had received the 
 best of education, and had chosen to learn a trade 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 77 
 
 with a view to knowing his business before he at- 
 tempted to manage a place of his own. He began by 
 saying that they knew him and knew how sympathy 
 for the union and its work had grown upon him, 
 and he was going to see justice done, even though 
 his life's ambitions were blighted. He said he had 
 hoped to see public sentiment aroused in their be- 
 half and the churches their special supporters in the 
 struggle for the right, but he went on : "As has been 
 declared here to-night, it seems to be going farther 
 away from them. The preachers live better than we 
 do, and are satisfied. They do not seem to care 
 about our condition and absence from the church. 
 If they would, they could change this whole stream 
 and turn it into another and better channel. 
 
 "I noticed that one of them did venture in the city 
 last Sunday to preach about 'Would Christ belong 
 to a labor union ?' I did not hear for myself, but it 
 was the old story they tell me. He did not take any 
 firm stand or even answer his own question. They 
 say he just smoothed over the rich employers in 
 front of him, and gave some platitudes about labor, 
 and that was about all there was to it. Yes, one 
 man told me that he said positively that Christ would 
 not join a labor union." 
 
 The struggle had grown with more intensity in 
 Henry's soul, and the question was : "Should he be 
 true to his convictions, or any way true to that which 
 
78 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 was fact concerning David Dowling's answer to that 
 question, and not get any applause, or should he 
 speak as the others had, and be cheered." 
 
 The picture of Fanueil Hall came before him con- 
 stantly. He saw the pale face and slender physique 
 of Phillips, and the striking attitude of his coura- 
 geous soul as his long arm swung around in thrill- 
 ing eloquence, and his finger pointed toward the 
 Attorney-General. 
 
 Just then something whispered to him with dis- 
 tinct utterance, "Coward — coward." 
 
 Instantly, he was upon his feet, and began to 
 speak, pushed on by the holiest impulse of his life. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he began, "I rise to declare myself 
 once more on your side, which is the side of right 
 and humanity and God. You know my sentiments 
 concerning our cause, and in this present situation 
 they have not changed one iota. If we cannot have 
 justice without a strike, I will lead the strike and 
 starve in the battle. I do not believe we have had 
 our just share of the product of our toil yet. The 
 greed of capital must be checked, and every ounce 
 of my blood is ready for sacrifice in behalf of the 
 honest and hard-worked men of this land." 
 
 The cheers and approval had not before arisen to 
 such a pitch as they did following these sentences. 
 The listeners were all intent for more. 
 
 "But," he continued, "I wish to-night to register 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 79 
 
 my name on the side of fairness and truth. There 
 is sympathy for us, and I have discovered it. It is 
 one of the brightest stars in our sky. It is brilliant 
 with prophecy. It is the flashing jewel of hope in 
 the night. We have been pleading for justice — let 
 us give justice to others. That is the only way in 
 God's government to secure it for ourselves- Our 
 cause is lost if we are hypocritical and demand that 
 which we are not ourselves ready to give. At all 
 hazards, let us have the truth. 
 
 "It has been said here to-night that all the rich are 
 our enemies. I do not believe that. I have been 
 thinking and seeing in these last days. While there 
 is selfishness and coldness in a large part of that 
 class of society, let us not forget what some have done 
 and others are doing. Call the other kind the rule, 
 but do not become wilfully blind to the exceptions. 
 
 "Then it has also been said several times that the 
 Church is absolutely indifferent, and the working- 
 men are outside of the Church because the churches 
 are out of touch with them and do not care. It has 
 just been said that one minister in the city ventured 
 to show a shadow of interest in us last Sunday, and 
 advertised our cause as his subject, but proved a 
 traitor to us even then, and surrendered himself and 
 the cause up completely to the good graces of the 
 rich." 
 
 It was as still as death, and every man was looking 
 
80 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 directly at the speaker, and most of them were not 
 touching the backs of their chairs. 
 
 He paused, and then said : "I was there, and 
 heard every word of it. He did not say just what I 
 would have said, or what I wish he had said, but I 
 am convinced that he was honest and true to his con- 
 victions, and more, I am sure, he is our friend. He 
 stood up boldly, and said, without any reserve or 
 hesitation, that Christ would join a labor union, and 
 he pleaded for justice and liberty and salvation; 
 justice for the toiler, liberty for society, and salvation 
 for the man. He said that was the creed of the 
 union to which Christ would belong. He was not 
 unfair to either side, but a kingly man in his place. 
 I know we misunderstand some of the churches and 
 some of the ministers. They are not all alike in this 
 respect any more than others, but they are coming 
 toward us. 
 
 "Gentlemen, as we love our cause, let us go toward 
 them. Go half way. Be fair. The Church and the 
 preacher may yet be our champions and our best 
 friends. Anyway, here stands one man who will 
 never condemn again until I know. I will be true 
 if I die in this or any other cause, God help me." 
 
 There was not a sound of applause. Sometimes 
 the impression is too great to admit an audible ap- 
 proval. It almost touches the sacred. Often the ut- 
 
A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 81 
 
 terance of the soul closes in an environment of sol- 
 emnity. 
 
 Who would dare say that Henry Fielding was not 
 inspired. 
 
 What is present day inspiration? 
 
 Why not his great honest soul as well as that of a 
 Phillips, or a Henry, or a Webster, or a Clay ? 
 
 No one attempted to speak for a complete sixty 
 seconds. 
 
 Then the chairman of the meeting looked from 
 one side of the room to the other, and said : 
 
 "I, for one, would be in favor of having that kind 
 of minister come and speak to us right here. I don't 
 see anything out of the way about that. Why not? 
 I don't know to whom reference has been made, but 
 I do not care who he is. I would like to hear him 
 on that same subject." 
 
 Henry rose again, and said : 
 
 "Do not misunderstand me. I am just as much 
 of a fighter as any man of you, and am with you to 
 the last chapter of our struggle. I am anxious that 
 we take the right method always. A slight mistake 
 may lead us a long distance out of the way. If the 
 Church and the ministers are the greatest moral and 
 spiritual factors in society, why not get in right 
 relation with them — at least, one of mutual under- 
 standing? Misrepresentation may be our ruin. Per- 
 haps we have said so many times, 'they do not want 
 
82 A Stormy Night in Union No. 10. 
 
 us' that we have come to believe it 2 and are believing 
 a falsehood. 
 
 "I would like to make a motion that Rev. David 
 Dowling, to whom we have referred, be invited to 
 come to the next meeting, and address us." 
 
 Some one seconded the motion, and it was put to 
 vote and carried by about two-thirds voting for it. 
 
 The meeting very quickly came to an end, and 
 most of them did not know what to think. 
 
 Henry Fielding had thrown a shell into the very 
 centre of things, and it had burst with tremendous 
 effect. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN DAVID DOWUNG'S STUDY. 
 
 Mr. Dowling reached home about ten o'clock that 
 evening. He threw off his overcoat and hat and 
 walked directly through the hallway into his study, 
 which was at the rear of the house. 
 
 He sat down in his accustomed place, but not to 
 make sermons. 
 
 His eyes dropped to the floor, and his arm rested 
 nervously on the arm of his chair. In a moment or 
 two, he walked across the room and threw himself 
 upon the lounge. That was not rest. Position is 
 not rest. It asks for something more than a lounge. 
 The downy couch of the king's palace is not named 
 "rest." 
 
 There was a great burden upon him, an irresistible 
 pressure. In that condition, a man might as well 
 stand up as lie down — perhaps better. 
 
 His wife called to him from the head of the stairs, 
 and when he answered, she said : 
 
 "I just wanted to know if you were in. I thought 
 I heard you. Where are you?" 
 
 "In the study," he answered, "come down here." 
 
 When she entered he did not even turn his head 
 
84 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 toward her, and as she had before, ten thousand 
 times, she asked : 
 
 "What is it troubling you? Oh, don't worry, I 
 am sure you can't bear the whole burden of the 
 world. Just throw it off now, whatever it is, and go 
 right to your room and to sleep. But tell me, what 
 were you thinking about?" 
 
 "Etta," said he, "you know me better than any- 
 body else, and you know that I have conscientiously 
 tried to do my work in the best way in order to 
 reach men for Christ, and yet I am not satisfied; 
 far from it, and further than ever to-night. If some- 
 body will only show me a better way, I will do it. 
 I will give up anything. I will sacrifice every plan. 
 I will do twice as much work, if possible, if only 
 a better result can be attained." 
 
 "Well, David," said Mrs. Dowling, "if you do 
 twice as much, you will have to have longer days 
 and a shorter life. You work now fifteen hours a 
 day, and seven days in the week, and that is a grave 
 digger's shovel, and you begin to look like a ghost." 
 
 "But, maybe," said he, "I am not doing it in the 
 right way. Perhaps the Church is off the track. 
 Any way the results are not much, and they seem 
 to get less each year." 
 
 "What brings this upon you with such force to- 
 night?" asked she. 
 
 "It is not a sudden thing with me ; only some new 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 85 
 
 developments in it. I want to reach this great mass 
 of workingmen, and men outside of the Church. 
 The lodges and the clubs are crowded and increas- 
 ing in number every hour. The labor unions have 
 large and enthusiastic meetings, but the men are not 
 in the churches, and many of them are more than 
 indifferent. They are against us." 
 
 He then told her about his call on Elsie Fielding, 
 and her sorrow about her brother, and his feelings 
 concerning the Church, and also of another woman 
 whom he had seen that evening, whose husband was 
 never at church, and who even took the children to 
 the park on Sunday and away from Sunday school. 
 
 "Oh, David, you are looking on the dark side; 
 you are tired, and it will not be foggy when the sun 
 comes up. Go ahead and do the best you can, and 
 let God take care of the result." 
 
 "That's not it," continued he. "This is a grow- 
 ing conviction. It is one of the most vital ques- 
 tions of the day for the Church and society both. 
 What is wrong? If I only knew. There is one man 
 in the world who would do what Christ ordered him 
 to do, even if he carried another cross up Calvary. 
 You know you had the door bell fixed Saturday. 
 When I came downstairs the electrician had the 
 outside wires and buttons off, and had changed the 
 batteries in the cellar and been working at the whole 
 of the machinery for a couple of hours, but could not 
 
86 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 find out what the trouble was. He told me his 
 dilemma, and I said to him that he was the electri- 
 cian, but I was the sermon maker. He must take 
 care of his end of it, and I would take care of mine. 
 He went at it again, and called me afterward to tell 
 me in partial anger and partial delight that just 
 where the wires were attached to the bell, the point 
 of contact was missing, almost like a hair for dis- 
 tance apart, and yet there could be no sound with- 
 out it. In a few seconds he brought them together, 
 and the bell rings now. I wonder if that is not just 
 the trouble with the Church. The machinery is all 
 right. The batteries of theology are all right. It 
 is the point of contact, Etta ; that is the trouble. We 
 are out of touch. Jesus touched the leper and the 
 blind, and all classes of men. That is the very genius 
 of Christianity, and we have lost it. The only way 
 to make music in this world of discord is to furnish 
 the point of contact by divinest sympathy and Christ- 
 touch of love. I believe that is the whole fault. 
 This mission business and all that which only gives 
 a hungry man food, or a beggar money, is not 
 enough either. That is only the means or opportun- 
 ity. Money given to men, if that is all, makes them 
 curse the giver and pass by the Church. It is only 
 the heart contact with the money. We are never go- 
 ing to reach the workingmen and save them by our 
 present cold and formal methods. I must come 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 87 
 
 down off my high pulpit to get hold of their cal- 
 loused hands, and let them see my large heart almost 
 bursting through my vest." 
 
 Mrs. Dowling interrupted to say : 
 
 "You are the most consecrated man in the world, 
 anyway, and I don't know how you can be any 
 
 better." 
 
 "So you say, Etta, but I have to show that to 
 these men who don't know me or understand me. 
 We must not talk longer to-night, but this is my 
 determination, and I will not yield if I die. It is the 
 result of months of experience and thought and 
 prayer. At all hazards, I am going to let the work- 
 ingmen of this city know that I am in sympathy with 
 their cause, and will do all in my power to help them. 
 I will not preach it all of the time, but I will live it all 
 of the time, and preach it fearlessly when the hour 
 demands it. I can live on half of my salary, but I 
 cannot live on duty neglected or feared. I am going 
 to get hold of these men and show them that Christ 
 would join a labor union. I have taken his name 
 as mine. Then I must be a Christ to them. It may 
 take time, but I will help in the revolution. There is 
 one man I am going to touch anyway. I have prom- 
 ised it, and I will begin with him. I could tell when 
 I saw him to-night that I had seen some of the best 
 material in the human family made up in him. I 
 
88 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 want you to help me pray for him. Christ took one 
 at a time. This is my Nicodemus." 
 
 She knelt at his side, and the study walls never 
 echoed a more earnest prayer than the one David 
 Dowlin-g breathed out to God that night. 
 
 There was something else to take place in that 
 study before Saturday night. 
 
 Henry Fielding had been appointed a committee 
 of one to carry the invitation to the minister to speak 
 at the next union meeting, and while Mr. Dowling 
 was now in his study, Henry was at home at the same 
 hour, and remaining sleepless for a long time. 
 
 He marveled at himself. He wondered about the 
 speech he had made and the criticism he had aroused. 
 He said over and over again : "I know they have and 
 will misunderstand me, but I am going to be true at 
 any cost, and I will prove to them that I am their best 
 friend yet. Some of them carried a sneer at my sen- 
 timents and opposed the motion about the minister, 
 and I heard remarks afterward — yes, I suppose there 
 were many I did not hear. Anyway, I will stand by 
 it whatever it costs." 
 
 He tossed from one side to the other and tried to 
 use will power to keep his eyes closed, but they saw 
 more than they ever saw when open and in the 
 brightest light. 
 
 "Even Richard," thought he, "did not give much 
 encouragement. He voted for it, but that was about 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 89 
 
 all. I suppose the fellow did not know what to make 
 of it, or what to do. He will be all right and stand 
 by, I know ; but what days these have been, not great 
 outward changes, but there is a marked difference 
 in me somehow." 
 
 It does not take long to change an honest man's 
 mind. He is even more ready to move his position 
 than a knave. There was more than one new element 
 in the life of Henry Fielding. The new truth had 
 captured him, he was its slave. That is the largest 
 freedom in the world. 
 
 But another throne was rising up before him, and 
 upon it was a queen of truest royalty. 
 
 He had suddenly met his ideal womanhood. 
 
 Was it only a dream, or was there some reality 
 in it? 
 
 His mother and sister were dearest to him of any- 
 body in the world, and he had never cared for another, 
 only the boy's devotion to a school-girl ; but that had 
 vanished like the spring rose in the heat of summer 
 and the cold of winter. 
 
 Yet the root, and life, and nature were there wait- 
 ing to blossom again after the storms. 
 
 "What a fool I am," thought he, and almost said 
 it aloud that night at twelve o'clock. "She is a mill- 
 ion miles away from me, and I am kept awake by 
 the lack of brains. The white matter is loose in my 
 cranium, and cannot rest because of too much room 
 
90 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 to float about. Here goes for sleep and some com- 
 mon sense," as he took a new turn on the couch. 
 
 But some giants and armies are more easily con- 
 .quered than thoughts and dreams. They fall only 
 to rise again and renew the battle, even if it takes all 
 night. 
 
 Henry had only seen Grace Chalmers for a few 
 moments, but something more than a rich girl with 
 attractive ways had crossed his path. 
 
 There is something about these sudden meetings 
 of life that we cannot plan, and whose power we can- 
 not measure. It was more to him than if an angel 
 had stopped him on his way and revealed some- 
 thing strange and startling to him. He could not 
 explain it, and would not dare tell it, but can any 
 one think less of him who knows the human heart 
 and the wonders of life and love ? Yes, they are one 
 and the same. Life is love, and love is life. Each 
 four letters, and they begin and end the same. 
 
 These new thoughts and conquering fears in his 
 heart give greater admiration for Henry Fielding. 
 
 Emerson says : "All the world loves a lover." 
 
 There is a great void in any young man's life who 
 has never experienced the hours through which he 
 was now passing. 
 
 Just before he entered into a restless sleep, he 
 received comfort from calling himself insane to think 
 of her. "And still," said he, "she was mighty attrac- 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 91 
 
 tive in her way, and treated me as her equal. It is 
 her own fault if a fellow, with only a workingman's 
 wages, and a sister to support, thinks of it. She did 
 it. Why did she not toss her head, and almost refuse 
 to speak, as I thought every girl of her kind would ?" 
 
 He passed into a surface sleep, and if Elsie had 
 been awake in the next room she might have heard 
 him say aloud in a partial dream : 
 
 "Anyway, I would like to see her again." 
 
 The week passed on uneventfully, but in the secret 
 silence of his own soul he carried the most sacred 
 thoughts of his life. This is the holy of holies of the 
 human heart, and not even a mother or sister can 
 enter the sanctuary. It is the inner temple, and the 
 holiest visitor is the first and purest thought of love. 
 
 Offend anything else under heaven, or even in it, 
 before offense is given to that, because God is Love, 
 and the devotion of human hearts ought to be a part 
 of the Divine. 
 
 Saturday evening came, and found him not ready 
 for his errand, but it must be done. He was in it, 
 and was man enough not to back out. 
 
 The call upon the minister had to be made, and 
 the invitation given. 
 
 Immediately after supper, and after a wandering 
 of conversation, because his mind was upon the 
 errand, and what he was to say, Henry started out, 
 only to hear Elsie say : 
 
92 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 "I am glad you have to go. I know you will like 
 him better. I never had a pleasanter call than the 
 one he made here." 
 
 David Dowling had just said to his wife : 
 
 "I am to stay home for once to-night, I hope no 
 one will ring that perpetual-motion bell. I almost 
 wish the electrician had not found his point of con- 
 tact." 
 
 He turned from the hall into his study, to pick up a 
 new book which had been waiting for this evening, 
 or some other, when the music of the bell was heard. 
 
 It was discord to him, and almost made him feel 
 unministerial and unchristian. It was only moment- 
 ary though, and the usual cordial manner and smile 
 came home, and they told him a young man wanted 
 to see him a moment. 
 
 He called out: 
 
 "Have him come right in here." 
 
 When Henry walked toward the study, Mr. Dow- 
 ling came to the door to greet him. He said : 
 
 "Why, I am surprised to see you, but I am de- 
 lighted," and he was. 
 
 The other spirit was human ; this was the Christ 
 and the better nature, and the most of it was in him. 
 
 "I would not have ventured to call," said Henry, 
 "and I now dislike to disturb you, but I have a mes- 
 sage for you, and will detain you only a moment." 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 93 
 
 "You are welcome as long as you can remain. I 
 will not let you go right away," replied Mr. Dowling. 
 
 "Thank you," said Henry, "but I came from one 
 of the labor unions, Union No. 10, to which I belong, 
 and the men want you to attend our next meeting 
 and speak for us." 
 
 A new color came into the minister's face, and a 
 puzzled expression gathered. In a moment of sur- 
 prise, he hardly knew what to say. Then he asked : 
 
 "What night is it to be?" 
 
 It was only a question to take time and give him 
 opportunity to think. He asked where it was, and 
 if this was an innovation, etc., only for the same 
 reason, and then said : 
 
 "I would like to do anything I can for your cause 
 in as far as it is right, and I will do this if it will help 
 in any way." 
 
 Henry replied emphatically that it would, and said 
 he had been the instigator of it. 
 
 "The men," he went on, "are out of touch with the 
 Church, and I believe they are out of relation with 
 that force in society which can and ought to help 
 them most. Understand me. I am not, and I don't 
 believe most of them are far away from the Church. 
 They are only waiting for the opportunity to come to 
 show their true spirit." 
 
 "Is it true," said Mr. Dowling, "that they sneer 
 at the Church and applaud the name of Christ?" 
 
94 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 "No," said Henry, "I have not heard that, and 
 if that is done it is the exception, not the rule. They 
 simply stand one side and carelessly stay away from 
 the Church. They claim that the preacher is out of 
 sympathy with them, and does not care about their 
 burdens, and I will have to confess to that as my own 
 fault for a long time." 
 
 Henry blushed a trifle as he looked toward the 
 floor and said : 
 
 "I used to go to church and to Sunday school up 
 in the country. I never joined the Church, but some- 
 times thought I was a Christian. When I reached 
 here and entered into this great whirlpool of human- 
 ity, struggling against wrongs and for rights, dying 
 in the almost useless effort, I became cold and indif- 
 ferent to everything which went by the name of reli- 
 gion. It didn't seem to me there was much in it." 
 
 Mr. Dowling interrupted to say : 
 
 "Tell me all about it. I am interested and even 
 anxious to find out my own fault in the matter." 
 
 "Well," said Henry, "I have told you about all. I 
 confess to fault on my part, but I tell you there 
 are many things that ought to be made right, and 
 the Church ought to do its part at least, to bring 
 Christ into the everyday life and business of the 
 world. There is not much chance for a man in these 
 days. The odds are so great. I had bright dreams 
 when I came down here, and have done my best, 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 95 
 
 but wages half the time have been cut down, and 
 sometimes we have been out on a strike, and then I 
 have a sister to care for. There has been almost 
 enough in all this to keep me away from the Church ; 
 yes, I might as well say, 'Away from God.' If I 
 am honest, as I must be, I am quite sure 'away from 
 church,' means in most cases, 'away from God.' 
 
 "Do you feel just the same now, Mr. Fielding, as 
 you always did?" asked Mr. Dowling. 
 
 "Well, I can't say that I do. There has been no 
 outside change in my life, and yet I am coming to 
 look at some things differently. At least, I am 
 realizing my own fault more, and seeing the Church, 
 yes, seeing you in a little better light. That sermon 
 last Sunday morning has done something for me, I 
 am sure, and that is what makes me want you to give 
 something of the same kind to the other men. I be- 
 lieve they will receive it and get great profit from it." 
 
 "Just what do you want me to talk about ?" 
 
 "Oh," said Henry, "I leave that to you. You 
 know best ; only show them that the Church and the 
 ministry are in sympathy and will help in any way 
 possible — at least that they will be just to both sides 
 and all men. They believe that you bow and bend 
 to the rich, even at the sacrifice of truth." 
 
 "I will be there," said David Dowling, as he 
 struck the study table with his hand, "and I will have 
 
96 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 them know that that is not true. If it has been, by 
 God's grace, it never will be again." 
 
 "Thank you," said Henry, "I am glad to carry that 
 report, and must go now." 
 
 "Don't hurry, I want to hear a little more about 
 yourself. I wish I could do something for you. I 
 have been thinking about you all week, and praying 
 for you. I believe God sent you here to-night. I 
 wanted this evening alone, but I would a million 
 times rather have you here, and that is honest." 
 
 Henry had risen to go, but almost unconsciously 
 settled back in his chair again. 
 
 "If you and I could understand each other, that 
 would be a splendid beginning," continued Mr. 
 Dowling. "A mustard seed with magnificent possi- 
 bilities in it. I do not want to go to your union, 
 unless I feel that I have one friend and helper in the 
 cause." 
 
 "Oh, you can count on me for that," said Henry. 
 
 "But I mean more than you think. What a won- 
 derful thing it would be if you were a Christian man 
 yourself, and carried the influence of Christ into the 
 organization, and did your part, which would be a 
 great part, in swinging the Church around toward 
 the workingmen. They never can be reached in any 
 other way than by some manly fellows, like your- 
 self, being the leaven in their society. I come, and 
 no matter how warm my heart is, they say it is cold, 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 97 
 
 and I am only a religious professional. Here is the 
 combination that will do it. Some of their own kind 
 and the preacher with them. Oh, how God would 
 move this part of the world if only some of you men 
 and the ministry were banded together. I, for one, 
 promise to go to the very end of duty's path. I do 
 not care where it leads me. I have not been just 
 right either. Love and sympathy and interest must 
 play a greater part in my life than sermons in the 
 future." 
 
 "I do not know just what you mean," said Henry, 
 "but I will do my part." 
 
 "Be careful how you say that, Mr. Fielding. Can- 
 not I call you Henry. Your sister told me the name." 
 
 "I would rather have you address me that way," 
 said Henry. 
 
 "All right," replied Mr. Dowling. "Now I will 
 go on. Be careful how you say that : 'Your part' — 
 'your part.' No man can do anything for others, 
 who is not first right with God himself. That is the 
 Divine law. Any one who neglects a personal duty, 
 cannot influence others for the right. Any man 
 who has lost himself cannot point out the way to 
 others. Love for God precedes love for man. No, 
 not just that. They are one and the same. You 
 have said here to-night, Henry, that you are not 
 right with God. Ycru have been away from the 
 
98 In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 Church for years. You have been even on the verge 
 of infidelity." 
 
 "No, I cannot say that last," said Henry. I will 
 not own to that. I always believed " 
 
 "Hold on a minute," said Mr. Dowling. "Infi- 
 delity has as much to do with the heart and life as 
 with the head. You might say there was a God, and 
 yet be an infidel to Him, having no fidelity to Him 
 or His cause, disloyal and untrue to Him, and to the 
 best that is in you. Anyway, Henry, you would not 
 say that you were a Christian, and that is what I 
 want you to be — saved by Christ's blood, and that 
 alone, and then you could be able to help the labor- 
 ing men in Christ's way — not simply to live a moral 
 life, but just surrender to the Saviour, and help Him 
 make the Church what it ought to be. He, through 
 you, will save society, and that is the only way it ever 
 will be saved. It will take time, but His spirit is 
 destined to conquer. He needs you." 
 
 "I have never looked at it just like that," said 
 Henry. "I have thought I was as good as church 
 folks, and as good as I could be under the working- 
 man's circumstances, and that was all that was neces- 
 sary." 
 
 "Oh, no, Henry, every line in the Bible is contrary 
 to that. If you could save yourself. For what 
 did Christ come to the world and die? His blood 
 was necessary to your pardon and your trust in 
 
In David Dowling's Study. 99 
 
 Him and surrender to Him and confession of 
 Him. Make it yours now and forever. That is 
 the meaning of being born again, and the Church 
 is His agent upon earth to bring this to the hearts 
 and lives of men. Put your immortal soul and 
 earthly life in Christ's hands, Henry, and you will 
 be a new man. Oh, what a mighty influence you 
 can wield in Union No. 10. A thousand times more 
 than I can. I have even wished that I was a working- 
 man, and could belong to the union in order to touch 
 and reach other men." 
 
 Henry leaned with both elbows on the arms of his 
 chair, and looked intently upon the floor, as if he was 
 counting every thread in the carpet. He was in the 
 deepest thought of his life, but he really wanted to 
 go, and almost wished he had not come. He did 
 not expect quite as much as this. 
 
 Mr. Dowling, with more feeling in his voice, con- 
 tinued to tell him that it was not following the ex- 
 ample of Christ in order to be saved or help men 
 most. "It was the atonement for sin that was the 
 saving power in the world, and the only power." He 
 pleaded with him to look at it right and to act ac- 
 cording to his best convictions at any cost. He told 
 him not to be anxious, simply to touch the surface 
 of the trouble in his own life or in the labor union. 
 
 "You need Christ," he said, "and so does your 
 union— the Carpenter of Nazareth, but also the 
 
ioo In David Dowling's Study. 
 
 Saviour of Calvary. Now, Henry, will you do your 
 part?" he said, after a moment's pause. 
 
 Henry hesitated, and then replied : 
 
 "I cannot promise anything to-night. I thank you 
 for the interest, and really think more of you for 
 talking this way, but I am not ready to say jtist now." 
 
 "I wish you would," said Mr. Dowling, anxiously. 
 "We may never have the chance to talk again." 
 
 "I hope we will," replied Henry. 
 
 "So do I," said Mr. Dowling; "but in this world 
 you cannot tell. You will promise me to think about 
 it. Yes, more — to pray about it." 
 
 Henry would rather have been out on the street 
 just then, but he said in a manly way, and meant it, 
 too: 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "Take my hand on that," said Mr. Dowling. "We 
 are friends ; your name will be in my prayer every 
 day." 
 
 Henry Fielding passed out into the dark — no, it 
 was the dawn. It is darkest just before the dawn. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 the; telegram from home. 
 
 The next Wednesday morning, according to ap- 
 pointment in the Sunday school the Sunday previous, 
 Grace Chalmers was to call on Elsie to talk with her 
 about a committee in the church, on which they 
 wanted her to work — a committee in the Young 
 Women's Organization. 
 
 Elsie was not anxious to have her come, but her 
 apartment never looked so attractive and spotless as 
 it did that evening. 
 
 She was alone, and waited patiently, supposing that 
 Grace would come early, but it was now after eight 
 o'clock, when she heard her step in the hallway. 
 
 She had already told her of the stairs, and their 
 home, so different from hers, and that changed the 
 situation by creating no surprise and calling for no 
 apology. 
 
 Grace Chalmers always carried the same charm 
 with her, and adapted herself to every condition with 
 an art passing the work of painter or musician. 
 
 The greatest artist in the world may never have 
 
 known a more skillful touch upon canvas or keyboard. 
 
 No one was better named than Grace Chalmers. 
 
102 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 They must have had the prophet's vision when they 
 called her Grace. 
 
 It does not seem possible that the same spirit would 
 be equally as beautiful and attractive in the palace 
 of the rich and the single room of the poor; but it 
 was and is always. 
 
 Elsie's room was midway between poverty and 
 riches, and it was no exception to the law of the 
 world. 
 
 She entered now, as always, with a delightful 
 familiarity which effectively destroyed formality. It 
 was not condescension, but recognition of the real 
 worth of the world as being that of character. She 
 considered Elsie as her equal, and the mere surface 
 circumstances of money or home was not able to de- 
 stroy that divine equality in human society. 
 
 This is the only aristocracy. This is the only 
 Christianity. This is the only solution of the social 
 problem. 
 
 Grace Chalmers carried the key to the secret. 
 
 "What!" said she; "are you all alone? I rather 
 expected to see your brother here, too." 
 
 "He is usually with me," replied Elsie ; "but he is 
 away more lately because he is so interested in these 
 labor questions, and especially now because of the 
 great strike in the city, and they are expecting trouble 
 in their own manufactory. I believe they call it a 
 'lock-out,' but I don't know as I understand what 
 
The Telegram from Home. 103 
 
 that means. Anyway, we won't talk about that to- 
 night." 
 
 "Why, yes, we will," said Grace, "because I am 
 interested in it, and more since Mr. Dowling preached 
 that sermon, and we have had so much talk about it. 
 You know I told you father did not agree with the 
 sermon, but that is not strange, and whether his con- 
 science has been troubling him or not, he has brought 
 it up for discussion a half-dozen times since. I have 
 argued with him about the minister having the right 
 and duty to preach about it, and he told me this morn- 
 ing that I and the pastor had both better find out 
 where our bread and butter came from. Perhaps I 
 might better keep still and leave him to do all the 
 talking, but I cannot help standing by the people 
 who have the least, if they are at all in the right. 
 I am really glad your brother is interested in the 
 solution of these important questions, and I hope the 
 men will receive vhat belongs to them. I would 
 rather have my father do just right by the working- 
 man and give me only half of what he now does, 
 than not show the spirit of Jesus every hour and 
 minute of the day. I have been in the homes of 
 these men enough to know just how they feel about 
 the rich Christians and the churches." 
 
 Elsie interrupted to say: 
 
 "I did not intend to start our conversation in this 
 
104 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 channel. You came for something else, and we girls 
 do not know much about the labor question." 
 
 "I know this," said Grace, "that that is the great 
 barrier between the working people and the Church. 
 I hear it wherever I go among them. If they had 
 better pay, and some of them less hours of work, 
 and could wear good clothes, and always have their 
 Sundays, they would come to church. Anyway, 
 many of them who don't now would, I know. Of 
 course, some of that class of people are not honest 
 in saying that, but many of them are. If I get a 
 chance, I am going to ask your brother to do his 
 best to right every wrong, and in some way help to 
 get all these thousands in touch with the churches. 
 My mission work does not amount to much as it is 
 now. All my giving and service is but a drop in 
 the large ocean of need. There is a great Christian 
 principle which needs to be thrust into the heart of 
 this trouble." 
 
 "That is what he says," replied Elsie, "and that is 
 what they are all saying, I know; but what about 
 that work you want me to do in the Church. I have 
 been wondering what it is. You did not tell me, 
 only made me inquisitive." 
 
 "Well, you know we have a Young Women's Or- 
 ganization. It is something like the King's Daugh- 
 ters, but does not go by that name. We have various 
 committees, and each with their own specific work; 
 
The Telegram from Home. 105 
 
 some to help in the Church, and others to come in 
 touch with the work in the city, and to help the poor. 
 I am chairman of the Missionary Committee, and 
 we have confined it almost entirely to helping the 
 needy right here in the city. I want you to be on 
 my committee, and we can accomplish more together 
 in this work, I know." 
 
 "I am willing to do anything I can," said Elsie; 
 
 "but you want to be sure that I am the right one." 
 
 "I am sure of that already," said Grace, "and I 
 
 have talked it over with Mr. Dowling, and he said 
 
 you are just the one." 
 
 "I do not know as I understand what I am to do." 
 "Why, I do visiting and come in touch with these 
 people. I find out their real need, and then help 
 them, or have the society help them. But what they 
 need most is what they get last, and that is some- 
 body's love and sympathy. Christ did not have any 
 money to give to men, but he just touched them and 
 really loved them out of their sin, and made them 
 able to help themselves." 
 
 "Well," said Elsie, "you show me how, and I will 
 
 try." 
 
 "What is that?" asked Grace. "It sounds like 
 rain, and I thought I heard it thunder, too." 
 
 "It is raining, I guess," replied Elsie, going to the 
 window at the same time and raising the curtain to 
 look out. 
 
106 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 As she did so, there was a faint flash of lightning. 
 
 "It must be only a shower," she said. 
 
 "Yes," said Grace, "because it did not look much 
 like rain when I came out, and I even hesitated about 
 bringing my umbrella." 
 
 "You wait, and it will soon pass over, and Henry 
 will be in presently to see you home all right if it 
 does keep on." 
 
 "Oh, no, I will not wait for the rain or an escort 
 either. I am used to going alone, and it is early 
 and not far, and the streets are all light." 
 
 She had scarcely finished the last sentence when 
 Elsie turned toward the door and listened a moment. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it is his step ; I know it way at the foot 
 of the stairs. He must have hurried, too, on account 
 of the storm." 
 
 Grace did not speak for a moment. She was think- 
 ing what she would do now. 
 
 Henry was at the door before the decision was 
 made, but she arose just as he entered, and said she 
 must go, as she turned to speak to him. 
 
 He appeared surprised for a moment, but it was 
 only on the surface, and if the truth was plainly told, 
 it was not the rain which had driven him home early. 
 He was quite willing to be there before Elsie's caller 
 had gone. He said she need not go just because he 
 came. If they had not finished their conversation, 
 
The Telegram from Home. 107 
 
 he would agree not to listen, or interrupt, or he 
 would go in the other room. 
 
 "Oh, no," answered Grace ; "it is all over, and you 
 will never know what it was. It is a secret, and 
 very important, too. Isn't it, Miss Fielding?" 
 
 Elsie nodded her head, and added : 
 
 "I will agree not to tell him, either." 
 
 Grace was buttoning her jacket and making prep- 
 aration to go, but Henry was not making any prep- 
 aration to stay. He was in a great quandary. So 
 much so as not to be able to think of a thing to say. 
 
 He wanted to go home with her, but did not know 
 whether he even dared to ask her. "She would not 
 want to be seen with him," and a thousand like sug- 
 gestions flashed through his mind, to make the mo- 
 ments seconds, and his knees almost knock together. 
 
 What should he do? Oh, if Elsie would only come 
 to the rescue, and say, "Henry, you go home with 
 Miss Chalmers !" "I would be a willing slave, and 
 not say a word," thought he. But Elsie seemingly 
 could not understand, or else did not care. 
 
 He tried to motion to her without being seen, but 
 his deaf and dumb signs were unread, and some- 
 thing had to be done, and done right away. 
 
 Grace said that she had had a delightful call, and 
 turned to Elsie to say good-night, and then toward 
 Henry, but he interrupted. 
 
 "You are not going alone this stormy night. You 
 
108 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 need not say good-night to me. You can do that at 
 your father's door." 
 
 She began by saying that it was not necessary for 
 him to go, but ended nearer her heart than the first 
 sentence, by adding that "he could have his way 
 about it." 
 
 There are moments in life which have years in 
 them, and are like the acorn as the forerunner of the 
 mighty oak. 
 
 Henry Fielding had never passed such a moment in 
 feeling or in fortune. He could not explain it or 
 even understand it. It was a puzzle to himself. 
 
 No young woman had crossed his path before with 
 more than a passing notice from him, but here was 
 a rich girl meeting him by the merest chance and 
 an impassable chasm between them. He never could 
 bridge that, and in the silence he had said a score of 
 times: "I am such a fool!" He had said also: "She 
 would mock the thought of being seen in my com- 
 pany," but here they were passing out of his own 
 house together. "By force," he was saying to him- 
 self. It was only like her father's coachman taking 
 her home in the storm. 
 
 When they reached the street it was raining harder 
 than ever. She drew her garments closely about her. 
 And Henry could hardly believe it — he had almost 
 unconsciously offered his arm. It was not courage, 
 because that was not up to the necessary mark. It 
 
The Telegram from Home. 109 
 
 was more excitement than anything else. And when 
 she accepted, as she touched his sleeve, it was like 
 an electric shock. Was it the lightning of the 
 storm ? 
 
 Anyway, Henry was struck. 
 
 She said, as they hastened on : 
 
 "This is so kind of you, Mr. Fielding, to come right 
 out again in this dreadful storm for my sake. The 
 next time I come I will do it in the starlight." 
 
 Henry suddenly replied : 
 
 "I will pray, then, for a sudden shower. I am 
 satisfied with this, if it was not for you getting wet." 
 
 In a few moments Grace had turned their con- 
 versation toward the Church, and said : 
 
 "I hope you are going to be a regular attendant 
 now at our church. I know you will enjoy the ser- 
 vices, and you cannot help but like Mr. Dowling." 
 
 "I do," answered Henry; "I admire him very 
 much. He is a minister to command respect, and 
 I think he is on the right track now to reach the men. 
 That sermon of his has occasioned a vast amount of 
 discussion and healthy argument. I hope he will 
 keep on in that way." 
 
 "So do I," said she, with an emphatic tone. "It 
 takes courage on his part, but everybody respects him 
 more. If there are wrongs burdening the working- 
 men, it is the Gospel which ought, and Avhich only 
 can, right them. The ministers ought to preach it, 
 
no The Telegram from Home. 
 
 and the members of the Church ought to live it. 
 That may sound strange from me, considering who 
 I am, but I love Christ enough to be true to Him in 
 everything, even sometimes against my people. My 
 sympathy is always with those who have the least in 
 this world, if they are not deep in sin and guilty of 
 bringing their own sufferings upon themselves." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say that," said Henry, "and 
 it is just that spirit which I have seen lately, which 
 has changed my ideas somewhat, and is changing my 
 life. I am looking at the ministers differently, and 
 at the Church people, too, with new and better 
 thoughts. I have been thinking in these last days 
 that perhaps I ought to bear at least half of the blame 
 for my own absence from the church, and the other 
 men are in the same position. They have misjudged 
 and made sweeping condemnation concerning the 
 Church and the rich, and justified themselves in al- 
 most.every way." 
 
 "It is more likely true," said Grace, "that both are 
 in the wrong. Do you know what I think?" she con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "No," answered he. "I want to know ; tell me." 
 
 "Well, it is that you can do a wonderful thing in 
 this world now for Christ and your fellow men, if 
 you were a Christian, and went from the Church right 
 among these men with the very spirit of Christ. That 
 is the great need. I cannot do half what you can, 
 
The Telegram from Home. in 
 
 and I don't really believe that Mr. Dowling can. 
 They want to see Christ in the labor union, and you 
 ought to be his representative, and show them how 
 he would belong to the union, and what he would 
 say and do." 
 
 Henry was almost stunned for an instant at her 
 frankness and her familiarity in talking religion to 
 him. He did not realize that it was her life, and that 
 it was the intent of Christianity to live it and talk it 
 everywhere. 
 
 He stammered out in reply that he supposed that 
 she was right. 
 
 They were now at her home, and had almost for- 
 gotten the rain and the distance. 
 
 The parting was touched with something more than 
 mere politeness, and Grace ventured to say, as he 
 turned away, that he would be welcome any time in 
 her home. 
 
 As he walked away, he said half aloud : 
 
 "Well, there is one exception at least. The world 
 is not all cold and selfish. There is Christianity on 
 earth, and it may be harder for a rich person to be 
 in the Kingdom of Christ than the poor. I think that 
 is what the Bible says." 
 
 The pressure of conviction was settling down upon 
 him with tremendous weight, and Henry Fielding 
 was not far from the Kingdom himself. 
 
 The next morning about nine o'clock Elsie was 
 
112 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 startled by a sharp ring of the bell. She hastened to 
 open the door, to find some one farthest from her 
 thought. 
 
 A telegram was not an ordinary event in her life. 
 This one was the first since she came to the city. 
 
 She could hardly wait to sign the messenger's book 
 before she opened it, and when he disappeared she 
 could scarcely muster the courage. "It must be 
 something important. It is for Henry, but it cer- 
 tainly is for me, too. Can anything be the matter 
 at home?" And a countless number of thought- 
 flashes crowded into her mind. 
 
 In a moment she stood with the open message in 
 her hand. 
 
 This was not only the first telegram, but never be- 
 fore had that expression taken posssesion of her face. 
 
 It was the mingling of wonder and surprise and 
 anxiety and grief. 
 
 It read : "Come home at once. Your mother is 
 very ill. Signed, Robert Matthews," an uncle of 
 theirs, who lived near their old home. 
 
 Elsie stood with that yellow bit of paper in her 
 hand as one transfixed, and read it and re-read it 
 and wondered if it told all the truth, or if there was 
 more to be said that the message could not carry. 
 
 These are the hours when queenliness and charac- 
 ter are tested. 
 
 She had to cry. That was natural, and even 
 
The Telegram from Home. 113 
 
 womanly, but Elsie Fielding was not the one to give 
 loose rein to imagination or sorrow. Her second 
 thoughts came quickly. 
 
 Blessed be they and the heart which opens for their 
 reception. 
 
 "What must I do?" said she, not "what must I 
 feel?" 
 
 In a moment she had thrown on her hat and her 
 wrap, and was ready to go to the factory to tell 
 Henry. 
 
 Steps were rapid, but not light. 
 
 He was summoned to the office on her arrival, and 
 knew that something important had brought her, be- 
 cause this was the first time she had called him from 
 his work. 
 
 She waited with the telegram in hand, but ready 
 to pave the way by saying as he came toward her : 
 
 "Henry, I am sorry I had to come, but this is not 
 very good news. Yet probably it is not as we may 
 think. This just came to the house/' and she passed 
 it to him. 
 
 But she could not wait to tell him, and perhaps 
 make it easier. 
 
 "It says mother is ill, and they want us to come." 
 
 While she was telling the story, he was reading it, 
 and then stood holding it for a moment without say- 
 ing a word. 
 
 When Henry was tested he could not be hastened, 
 
ii4 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 and when his decision was made it was usually the 
 best. 
 
 "I hope she is not very seriously ill," he said, with 
 a sigh following it, and walked directly to the super- 
 intendent's desk. 
 
 "Mr. Whitney," he said, "my sister has just 
 brought this message to me, which says my mother 
 in Vermont is very ill, and they want us to come 
 immediately. I must go right away, and I know you 
 will have no objections." 
 
 "Certainly," said he, rather coldly. "This is a call 
 which must be answered. I hope you will not find 
 it as serious as it now seems," and he had already 
 turned away before the last sentence was finished. 
 
 Their mother had not lost any of their love by their 
 absence. Each week the home letter was on its way, 
 and occasionally more than once a week some word 
 or token of love was sent. 
 
 They had received her letter only two days before 
 this, and then she was apparently as well as usual. 
 
 "What could be the matter?" was the oft-repeated 
 and oftener thought question. 
 
 Henry told Elsie to hurry home and get all ready 
 and he would go to the depot or some ticket 
 office and find out when the first and best train went. 
 
 He discovered that it left at twelve o'clock, and 
 gave them only about two hours to make preparation. 
 
The Telegram from Home. 115 
 
 "But we can do it," said he, as he partially ran 
 down the street and toward their home. 
 
 No time was lost, and at five minutes before the 
 hour they were on the train, and had scarcely taken 
 time to think of the object of their journey. At least, 
 not any time to talk about it. 
 
 Now they had the afternoon, and it was crowded 
 with wonder and increasing anxiety. 
 
 They knew about their mother's trial with their 
 brother Will, and her deep sorrow over his life. 
 
 He had grown wild and even dissipated. They 
 feared she had not told them the darkest side of it. 
 
 That was the real condition. She had not. 
 
 Out of her love for them, her mother's heart had 
 encircled all of her own trouble, and she had lived 
 on hope that her counsel and prayer would prevail, 
 but each day had increased his appetite for strong 
 drink, and almost each night of his life he came home 
 intoxicated. 
 
 She never gave him up, nor did she ever threaten. 
 
 She only pleaded with him and prayed to God. 
 
 Never a night had she rested until he was in his 
 room, and then she would kneel at his bedside and 
 pray for her boy that he might be saved. 
 
 Sometimes he was too stupid to know that she 
 was there — even though she held his hand, and her 
 hot tears were falling upon it. 
 
n6 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 At other times it angered him, and he had even 
 cursed her while she prayed. 
 
 That had almost taken her life, but it never tri- 
 umphed over her love and faith. 
 
 Last night he had come home at midnight in sadder 
 condition and meaner disposition than ever before. 
 
 The light was in his room. The bed was open 
 for him as usual. His mother was waiting. As 
 sweetly as an angel, she spoke to him, but received 
 no reply. 
 
 He was intoxicated almost to insanity. It was 
 temporary insanity. 
 
 She kneeled at his side again and made her accus- 
 tomed plea and prayer, which seemed to enrage him 
 and make him almost a demon. 
 
 He leaped from the bed upon which his drunken 
 form had rolled, and struck her. She fell to the 
 floor in unconsciousness. 
 
 Instantly what he had done almost sobered him. 
 He kneeled down and tried to lift her up, but she 
 was the same as dead. 
 
 He thought that she was dead. His efforts to re- 
 vive her were of no avail. The passing moments 
 of fright almost drove the effect of the alcohol away. 
 
 The horror of an hour had passed by, and no 
 change. 
 
 "Oh, my God," he cried, "I am a murderer." 
 
The Telegram from Home. 117 
 
 Before the morning his decision had been made, 
 and he had fled. 
 
 Her brother by chance came to the farm-house in 
 the morning, and made the awful discovery. The 
 blood was upon her forehead, and just a faint sign 
 of life remained. 
 
 Imagination revealed the dark secret. 
 
 Henry and Elsie thought most everything, but little 
 had they thought of this. 
 
 The Vermont hills, through which they passed late 
 in the afternoon, were never so beautiful as then in 
 their autumnal glory. 
 
 It seemed as if a great avalanche of color had 
 swept down the mountain sides, or like the resting 
 place of countless rainbows. 
 
 The trees were all ablaze with color, and the val- 
 leys marked with richest farms and gardens. 
 
 The golden sunset added to the wonder of nature, 
 and the reflection of heaven upon earth, and yet these 
 two travelers were blind to it all. 
 
 We see through our hearts more than our eyes. 
 
 Every man has his own world, and he carries it 
 with him. 
 
 To the joyful heart, snowflakes are jewels and 
 grass blades are diamond sceptres, but to the sad 
 they are both only common carpet, to be trodden 
 upon, and even then to hurt the feet. 
 
n8 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 Their uncle was waiting for them at the depot. 
 
 He had the hardest task of his life in hand. He 
 was a farmer, but sensitive in nature. 
 
 He was just the man to break the sad news. 
 
 He did not rush right into the dark facts, but by 
 a gradual approach and winding pathway, he re- 
 vealed the true condition. 
 
 Their anxiety tried to hasten him, but he knew the 
 better way. 
 
 When at last it dawned upon them that their 
 mother was dead, Elsie had to give way, and her 
 tender heart almost broke in grief. 
 
 Henry's sorrow was just as deep, and too bitter for 
 him to weep or speak. 
 
 Everything was stamped with sacred memories 
 about that whole section of country, and each tree and 
 stone of the old farm was written all over with unseen 
 letters, but now the last remnant of attraction and 
 interest, and even love for it all, had vanished. 
 
 Henry Fielding said afterward that he almost hated 
 the sight of these familiar and once loved things. 
 
 The centre from which radiated all the charm was 
 gone. 
 
 There is not so much in external circumstances 
 as we estimate. They receive their value from some- 
 thing else. 
 
 One of the first thoughts which flashed into 
 
The Telegram from Home. 119 
 
 Henry's mind was as usual : "Now, I must play the 
 part of a man and a brother. This is harder for 
 Elsie than for me. She is tender and weak and can- 
 not bear what I can. I must get my arm around 
 her;" and he did, both figuratively and literally. 
 
 She sobbed out the bitterest tears of her life on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Oh, what a kingship is that? The first thought 
 of others. 
 
 In the Providence of God, and in the laws of the 
 world, that is the most triumphant method of bear- 
 ing sorrow and enduring suffering. 
 
 Thought of others is Heaven's remedy for self. 
 
 He went alone to wipe away his great tears, and 
 stayed with Elsie to comfort. 
 
 They were more to each other than ever now. 
 
 Another dream of Henry's life had been blasted. 
 His ambition for his mother, and his care of her had 
 never come to realization, and in this awful tragedy 
 she had left them, but there had entered into his 
 life a new force recently, and he did not become 
 embittered, but even told Elsie several times, "It 
 must be for the best. Anyway, mother had better in 
 heaven than he could ever have hoped to give her on 
 earth, and he did not have prospects for anything for 
 her just at present. She has a mansion now, and no 
 mortgage on it, either." 
 
120 The Telegram from Home. 
 
 These were days which seemed months. So many 
 changes, so much sorrow, and events beyond realiza- 
 tion. 
 
 As they entered the train to return, Henry said : 
 "Elsie, I never want to come back again." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MINISTER IN THE UNION. 
 
 Ever since David Dowling had publicly asked the 
 question: "WoJd Christ join a labor union?" the 
 mail had brought to him half a dozen or more letters 
 daily in reference to it. Most of them were from 
 union men, thanking him for his interest and elo- 
 quent sermon. Some of them were in the spirit of 
 criticism, and a few even went so far as to denounce 
 him for not having the spirit of a true radical. 
 
 He walked into his study one eventful morning in 
 his life with a number of sealed letters in one hand 
 and an open one in the other. He paused at the 
 table, and then moved toward the window, where he 
 stood looking out, in deepest thought. 
 
 Many questions were forcing their way into his 
 honest heart. "Had he gone too far in this matter? 
 Was it a part of his duty? Had he said just right 
 in that one sermon, and in all other things he had 
 uttered since ? What ought he to do now ?" etc. 
 
 No one of these was receiving a very satisfactory 
 answer, and in fact they came so fast that one 
 crowded out the other. 
 
 He held up the open letter and began to read it 
 
122 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 over again. It was from a union man, and appar- 
 ently a thoughtful man and earnest soul. It read 
 as follows: 
 
 "Would Jesus be a trade unionist? Though no 
 conditions are stated in the above query, they are 
 nevertheless implied, and it is really, therefore, a 
 hypothetical question. If present conditions are as- 
 sumed to be the natural and permanent state of the 
 world, then it seems evident to me that Jesus, as 
 the champion of the poor and the oppressed, would 
 advocate the formation of labor unions by working- 
 men to wrest from their masters a larger share of 
 the wealth which their own toil is producing; he 
 would under such conditions be a trade unionist. 
 
 "But we know that the continuance of present con- 
 ditions is impossible. Such an assumption would be 
 foolish. Jesus knew very well that change is the 
 order of the universe. Whether we consider him as 
 divine or human, He was more than a workman en- 
 deavoring to earn an honest living for himself and 
 family. He was a teacher of eternal truth, a prophet 
 of a true order of human life, an evangel of justice 
 and brotherhood among men, a revolutionist of 
 transcendent genius and ability, who desired the over- 
 throw of all wrong and the establishment of what 
 He called the 'Kingdom of God' 'on earth as it is 
 in heaven.' 
 
 "Such being his ideal, it is as impossible to imagine 
 
A Minister in the Union. 123 
 
 Jesus as a trade unionist as it is to imagine a trade 
 union in heaven. Were He among us to-day, 
 He would view life from a standpoint too lofty; He 
 would be undermining wrongs too deep; He would 
 be destroying ideas too all-pervading, and inculcating 
 a philosophy too broad and all-embracing in its hu- 
 manity to have a place in a movement which has for 
 its object the elevation of any class, no matter how 
 large or deserving that class might be. 
 
 "Jesus was not and could not be the 'practical' 
 man who takes off his coat and attacks specific abuses 
 with a club. His mission was the proclamation of 
 eternal verities. He saw clearly that, so long as men 
 are inspired by the desire to get the better of each 
 other in any degree whatever, the coming of His 
 'kingdom' is in that degree retarded. Now, then, 
 could He have a part in a movement having for its 
 object the supremacy of organized labor? 
 
 "Any tool for the accomplishment of a specific pur- 
 pose is the best until a better is devised; the trade 
 union is the best tool known to large numbers of men, 
 but it by no means follows that it is the best possible, 
 nor that the objects now sought by these organiza- 
 tions are the best, even for their members. Jesus, if 
 He again walked among us, would certainly see far 
 ahead of us, as He did nineteen centuries ago. He 
 would certainly follow the same methods of estab- 
 lishing justice among men that He saw were best 
 
124 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 then. These methods are far richer in possibilities 
 than any adopted by the trade unions. Nothing can 
 supply the lack of a desire for justice among - men, 
 and He would again seek to instill that desire into 
 the hearts of men, keeping Himself above the petty 
 squabbles which are the curse of the human life. 
 It is probable, also, that for this very reason He would 
 be received by men now in much the same way that 
 He was received before, for mankind is not yet done 
 with crucifying its Christs and enthroning its Caesars. 
 
 "Can we imagine Jesus as 'working under cover' 
 or countenancing it by others ? Can we think of him 
 as refusing to allow a man to work because he did 
 not belong to the union? Can we conceive of Him 
 as aiding in the establishment of a boycott or in other 
 ways seeking revenge for any injury, no matter how 
 great ? Can we even think of Him as trying to com- 
 pel a fellow-man to join a union? If we cannot 
 imagine Him as doing these things, it is idle to imag- 
 ine Him as a trade unionist. Instead, He would be 
 foremost in the attacks on those fundamental wrongs 
 which force the trade union into existence and com- 
 pel it to assume a semi-military discipline over its 
 members and over its enemies as well, whenever pos- 
 sible. 
 
 "Among the stands I can imagine Jesus as taking 
 were He to come among us and preach again, would 
 be that of uncompromising hostility to all forms of 
 
A Minister in the Union. 125 
 
 slavery. Whether this was the slavery of men to 
 the owners of the earth and its resources, the owners 
 of the rain that falls upon the just and the unjust, 
 of the methods and processes of labor, the privilege 
 of making and issuing money, the nation's highways 
 and means of transportation and of transmitting in- 
 telligence, or of any other wrongful privilege con- 
 ferred by law. I can only imagine Jesus as bending 
 all energies to the complete overthrow of this slavery 
 by preaching the truth that will make men free, with- 
 out bowing his head in compromise with anything 
 that conflicts therewith. 
 
 "Jesus would be a revolutionist of the most radical 
 type, as He was before, standing for all the rights 
 of man and against everything that violated them 
 a hair's breadth. He would again be accused of 
 turning the world upside down, and perhaps would 
 be executed. But He would not be a trade unionist 
 as that term is defined and understood to-day." 
 
 It was a long letter, but not uninteresting to him, 
 and occasioned many pauses as he read it. At last 
 he sat down and bowed his head on the table, and by 
 chance (no, our chance is God's providence) his right 
 hand rested upon the open Bible, and in his left hand 
 he still held the letter. 
 
 After a moment's thinking, which was in reality 
 prayer — what is prayer but the heart's desire after 
 God and His will? — he raised his eyes, and at the 
 
126 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 first glance he discovered that not only were his 
 hands resting upon the sacred page, but that his index 
 finger pointed directly to the line, "I have given you 
 an example." 
 
 Almost unconsciously, he said: "Thank God for 
 this light on my pathway. Christ died to save man, 
 and He lived to show them how to work out that 
 salvation. It is atonement and example eternally 
 united, and ought to enter into my ministry, and into 
 every workingman's life. No man ought to do any- 
 thing that Christ could not do, or belong to any or- 
 ganization that Christ could not join. He not only 
 gave the theory of life but the pattern also. He is 
 the only example for a labor union man, as well as 
 a minister. This is the great mistake about religion 
 and about Christ — that he could not do and be what 
 other men under existing conditions can be and are 
 compelled to do and be. The very essence of Chris- 
 tianity is "that Jesus was a man as well as God, and 
 His life in the carpenter shop was a part of His re- 
 demptive work as fully as was His death on Cal- 
 vary. His relation to the other carpenters of Naza- 
 reth and their organization, to the fisherman of Gali- 
 lee and their union, was one of active service in be- 
 half of honest labor." 
 
 Mr. Dowling then glanced down at the letter again, 
 and thought : "Here is the fallacy — they make 
 Christ an unreal factor to-day. 'He had the boldest 
 
A Minister in the Union. 127 
 
 hostility to all forms of slavery.' Of course he had, 
 and the labor union has no right to exist if that is not 
 its righteous mission, too. Their work is his, their 
 interests are His, their liberty and justice and salva- 
 tion are His." 
 
 David Dowling paused in his rapid thought, and 
 said to himself: 
 
 "Now, let me get this right ; is there any difference, 
 except in degree, between Christ's life and mine? 
 Could I belong to a labor union ? Could any Chris- 
 tian man? If so, why not then Christ himself? No 
 reason in the world, or else there ought not to be a 
 labor union. If some of the methods are wrong, 
 Jesus would help make them right, and so will I, 
 God help me. 
 
 "They make my Christ unreal, and His life differ- 
 ent from that of other men. God did not intend it to 
 be so. That makes Christianity heathenism. Christ 
 would do exactly what any other man before God 
 has the right to do. Oh, to teach men this, and the 
 divine purpose concerning individual life and society. 
 I must be more of a Christ myself to my fellow- 
 men. I have taken His name. I am His representa- 
 tive to-day, and because the ministers stand such a 
 distance from these men and their unions, they think 
 that is what Christ would do, only to a greater degree. 
 It is not true; it is not true! The workingmen are 
 not all to blame. There is one preacher who will do 
 
128 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 better. If I have to learn a trade to get in the union 
 and influence the men and show them Christ, I will 
 do it. Perhaps a trade would be better for some of 
 us than a theological seminary. We might reach 
 men better if we handled a saw of steel than the saw 
 of some old commentary. 
 
 "Paul was a tent maker. He touched men and 
 saved them." 
 
 It was now time for David Dowling to make his 
 Sunday sermon, but he was at more important busi- 
 ness. In reality, he was making sermons by a new 
 and better method. He was listening to conscience, 
 studying men, thinking of Christ and His relation to 
 the millions of workingmen. That was a sermon not 
 to be written, but to be preached with sublimest elo- 
 quence — the oratory and rhetoric and elocution and 
 logic of a concentrated life. 
 
 He was tearing the last rag of formalism and pro- 
 fessionalism from his calling and just lifting up 
 Christ, so that all the men should be drawn to Him. 
 
 It was beginning right, because he was in Gethse- 
 mane now with Jesus. He knew how some of his 
 people felt, and what some of his best supporters 
 had said, and the conflict raged. 
 
 The tears rolled down his cheeks, and they were 
 touched with crimson, too. 
 
 "Oh, Lord Jesus," said he, "help me to set my face 
 to go steadfastly to my Jerusalem. May I not go to 
 
A Minister in the Union. 129 
 
 extremes. May I not be deaf to duty's call or blind 
 to the beckoning of Thy pierced hand ? I will come. 
 I will do all in my power to show men Thy sympa- 
 thy and Thy willingness to belong to any union whose 
 purpose is worthy and enters into the redemption of 
 human society. Show me the path, and if it is only 
 one step at a time I'll take it." 
 
 If every member of the labor organizations could 
 have been witnesses to that scene, and heard that holy 
 prayer, and known the deeper desire in his soul, how 
 differently they would look at the minister. Yes, 
 even at the Saviour of men. 
 
 This was the beginning of a new day in one min- 
 ister's life, and it found its closing in a new experi- 
 ence, and a very bright one for Mr. Dowling. 
 
 This was the night for his address in Union No. 10. 
 
 He had tried so many times in the past days to de- 
 cide upon what he should say on that occasion, and 
 had torn up several abstracts and plans. 
 
 All day the same battle was on, and no good speech 
 had come into his possession when night reached him, 
 but he was not nervous. 
 
 There was a confidence in God which was his now, 
 and always comes to the consecrated man. 
 
 According to the agreement when the invitation 
 was given, Henry and Richard called for him. 
 
 There had been added another knot in the tie which 
 
130 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 bound Henry to him, not known by Mr. Dowling, 
 but Henry was perfectly conscious of it. 
 
 In the hour of sorrow he had pushed his great 
 heart of sympathy against Henry's heart, and left 
 an impress upon it never to be obliterated. It was 
 language intelligible and indelible. 
 
 Elsie's tender and saddened heart had also known 
 the power of love's contact as never before, because 
 both Mr. Dowling and Grace had been so helpful, and 
 carried the needed comfort at the most trying time 
 of her life. Flowers had been sent to her, but the 
 flowers most fragrant and lasting were those which 
 angel hands had picked in the garden for her — atten- 
 tion, sympathy and sacrifice. 
 
 Mr. Dowling was all ready, except his speech, when 
 the young men arrived. He met them at the door, 
 and said : 
 
 "You might have thought I would not be ready 
 and was not anxious to go, but you see I am." 
 
 He walked down the steps between the two, and 
 for a moment took hold of their arms as a sign which 
 every man understands. It was real friendship. 
 
 Henry said : "I am sure you art not so glad to go 
 as we are to have you. Isn't that right, Dick?" 
 
 "That's so," quickly answered Richard. 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "this is the night that I have 
 been most anxious to go to a union meeting of any 
 time in my life. I believe there is great good in it." 
 
A Minister in the Union. 131 
 
 "I hope there will be," replied Mr. Dowling. "I 
 am sure if you men know how dead in earnest I am 
 in the desire to change the present condition of both 
 the workingmen in their relation to the employer, and 
 also in relation to the Church, they would listen and 
 stand by me, too." 
 
 "Here are two fellows who will," said Richard. 
 
 "Thank you," said Mr. Dowling ; "that makes me 
 feel better and gives me security ; a certain backing, 
 and I will depend upon you." 
 
 "Well," said Henry, "I am the one who wanted 
 you there, and I propose to help you all I can. You 
 just go ahead to-night and say what you think — 
 something like the sermon would not hurt, and even 
 more along that same line. I rather think they will 
 expect it, but I will not make any suggestion. You 
 probably have it all ready." 
 
 David Dowling hardly knew what to say now, be- 
 cause he had several lines of thought in his mind, and 
 was just trusting to Christ's help to formulate them, 
 and he replied : 
 
 "No, I have not fixed it exactly, but, anyway, you 
 may be sure that I will do what Christ desires, as near 
 as I know it. I stand for him, you know, and this 
 is one way at least for Christ to belong to a labor 
 union.' " 
 
 When they reached the door and entered, the meet- 
 ing had just been opened. Some business was being 
 
132 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 transacted. All eyes were turned upon David Dow- 
 ling as he sat down near the door next to Henry. 
 There was great expectancy. It was an innovation, 
 and the interest in it had called out the largest meet- 
 ing they had held for a long time — if not the largest 
 ever seen in that union. 
 
 Everything was quickly dispatched, so as to come 
 to the address and the open meeting. 
 
 If ever a man was controlled by a burning desire 
 to do the right thing, David Dowling was that man 
 now. He was saying to himself : "Anything for thee, 
 my Christ. Help me to be true and fair, and show 
 Thee in the right light." 
 
 When he arose to speak, there was a ripple of ap- 
 plause, but not enthusiastic, because most of the men 
 did not know what attitude to assume, and some of 
 them had even voted against his coming. 
 
 He walked to the front and said: 
 
 "Gentlemen, I thank you for this honor, which I 
 consider one of the greatest of my life, because of 
 the importance of the occasion and because of the 
 confidence you have manifested in me. I believe we 
 are one in desire, and nearer to each other than you 
 think. My work is different from yours, but I prom- 
 ise you now that my purpose is the same — in helping 
 the cause of justice and humanity. 
 
 "We have been separated too long by misunder- 
 standing, and the enemies of us both have misrepre- 
 
A Minister in the Union. 133 
 
 sented us. I hope this event to-night will be the 
 dawn of a new era in the relation of the Church 
 to labor. 
 
 "Your call to me came from my venturing to ask 
 the question, which I consider a vital one to you as 
 well as to myself : 'Would Christ join a labor union ?' 
 I said 'Yes' then; I say, more emphatically, 'Yes,' 
 now." 
 
 There was a shadow of excitement and a rustle of 
 whispering as he continued : 
 
 "If the union has a right to existence in human 
 society, and I believe it has, Christ would belong to 
 it, if he was a carpenter in this city as he was a car- 
 penter in Nazareth. If he came to the world in 
 human form to-day, the divine plan would not be 
 changed. It was the plan of the eternities. 
 
 "If He came to your city as his dwelling place, 
 He would learn His trade, and join the union for 
 protection, and for the ultimate redemption of all 
 men. He would be one of your number to-night. 
 Yes, He is, and would say, 'Come unto Me all ye who 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 
 
 "His mission is not outside of the circle of labor. 
 He began at the centre in the carpenter shop, and 
 will not give up until His scarred hand touches every 
 part of the circumference, and His power regenerates 
 the whole. 
 
 "Now, I did not come here to preach. I invite 
 
134 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 you all to come to my church to hear the sermon, 
 and perhaps there will not be as much 'preach' in that 
 as you think there is, but I am here now to say some 
 things to you which lie at the very core of my heart. 
 
 "You would not want me to be hypocritical. I 
 cannot be, if you do. I never spoke in my life with 
 such conviction and such blood-earnest desire." 
 
 The men looked more intently at him, and some of 
 them even nodded to each other. He had not only 
 gained their attention, but he already had the respect 
 and confidence of most of his auditors. 
 
 He paused a moment, and then continued: 
 
 "I propose to say something about myself first, and 
 then something concerning you and your work. If 
 you have misunderstood me and my methods, let me 
 change that feeling, if I can. Do not be prejudiced. 
 Listen and pass your own judgment. 
 
 "I sat a few hours ago by the side of a young man 
 — he is now dead. He was dying of consumption, 
 and they sent for me. He was a member of one of 
 the labor unions. He was perfectly conscious until 
 his death, and died while I was there. What was my 
 first business in his presence and the presence of 
 death ? Every man of you will answer at once, 'To 
 do all in my power to make that poor fellow ready to 
 meet God. To help him in the final preparation for 
 the next world.' 
 
 "It would be folly and criminal to talk to him 
 
A Minister in the Union. 135 
 
 about this world, and trades, and work, and the 
 wrongs of society. Eternity was just ahead of him, 
 anil was the only reality now. 
 
 "That is only an incident which illustrates the char- 
 acter of my whole life. I stand on the edge of the 
 grave between immortal souls and their destiny. 
 
 "My first business must necessarily be their salva- 
 tion hereafter. You say I am too other-worldly. 
 How can I be otherwise ? Yes, how can any think- 
 ing man put the next world secondary to this ? If 
 the preacher is 'too other-worldly,' most men are too 
 much 'this-worldly.' 
 
 "The fact is that you cannot separate the two 
 worlds. The divine plan is to save men in this by 
 saving them for the next. 
 
 "If you thought that I ought to preach only con- 
 cerning the questions of the hour and solve the social 
 problems, you have mistaken Christ's work on earth 
 and made Calvary only a tragedy instead of the atone- 
 ment for sin. 
 
 "I have declared that Christ would belong to a 
 labor union, and I will belong to yours, if you will 
 have me, and help you all I can." 
 
 Henry and Richard started applause, but it did not 
 reach a wave, only a ripple. 
 Mr. Dowling continued : 
 "But Christ would make His sacrifice for sin the 
 
136 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 foundation of all salvation for society. He was not 
 only an example. He was infinitely more. I am 
 going to deal with social questions and your wrongs, 
 but I must begin always at the Cross. If you think 
 it otherwise, you have mistaken my sacred mission 
 and the relation of salvation here to salvation here- 
 after. Another thing I want you to know about me 
 and my ministry. I do not fear any man on earth, 
 and I am not catering to any individual or any class. 
 Your position is upon the outside, and many of you 
 do not hear the sermons, and you cannot pass right 
 judgment. At least, do not make wholesale condem- 
 nations. Many ministers are sacrificing everything 
 for truth's sake, and have even given up pulpits and 
 salaries and friends and all. They are ready to stand 
 by you, if you will only stand by them. Here is one 
 of them, anyway! My last drop of blood is yours, 
 and out it goes in your cause for right. My church 
 is open to you; other churches are anxious for you. 
 The best place is yours. If it is not, I will resign 
 my pulpit to-morrow. I wish we could form some 
 mutual understanding — some better relation. I wish 
 you had honorary members, or some class to which 
 I could belong. I stand for Christ, and I would like 
 to be in your organization. I would like to have 
 every one of you in the Church, and there are more 
 workingmen in the Church than statistics represent 
 
A Minister in the Union. 137 
 
 and pessimists believe. Most of you are right near 
 its doors. 
 
 "Now, let me ask a vital question about yourselves. 
 
 "Suppose Christ was a member of this union. 
 Would everything in it be just as it is to-night? 
 Would not some of the plans be changed? Would 
 not the Golden Rule be the motto? Would not the 
 Sermon on the Mount enter into all your relations 
 with other men ? You could not have Christ in here 
 without having His spirit and example. I am sure 
 some speeches would not be made, and some hasty 
 actions would not be taken. Our employers would be 
 treated as we ask them to treat us, with fairness and 
 justice and sympathy. I do not say there would not 
 be a strike, but every possible means to prevent it 
 would be first exhausted. We would recognize duty 
 and obligation and fidelity, and the other side as well 
 as our own. Bitterness, and anger, and malice, and 
 envy, and vengeance would not enter into our discus- 
 sion or our actions. 
 
 "Also, if Christ would belong to your union, and 
 help your cause, you ought to belong to His Church 
 and help His cause, out of which the union and every 
 other righteous institution grew. If the Church is 
 not just as it should be, help Christ make it after 
 His pattern. You cannot separate Christ and the 
 Church. He said it was His body, and some wicked 
 distinctions have been made by men, who said they 
 
138 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 represented your cause, but misrepresented it. They 
 have even said to me that there has been a hiss heard 
 at the mention of the Church. How the heart of 
 the Saviour must be grieved at that ! It is His insti- 
 tution as the channel of salvation to the world. Help 
 it ; support it ; do not stand outside of it. Do not 
 claim it has purely a social function. Hear Christ 
 say that you cannot save society without first saving 
 the individual. 'Ye must be born again/ is the cry 
 of the Church, and in that cry is the key-note of the 
 regeneration of society and the salvation of the cause 
 of labor. There is not too much philanthropy or too 
 much reform in the world, and the Church is not too 
 much interested in that. It is not enough interested 
 in that, but it has a distinctively spiritual mission, and 
 first things must be kept first, or less will be done 
 than is now being accomplished. 
 
 "One of the fallacies of this day is that all people 
 need is a change of environment, and they will be 
 good. The whole Gospel is against this, and teaches 
 that the soul right with God first changes external 
 conditions ; and, however much I might wish to do for 
 any labor, or benevolent, or philanthropic organiza- 
 tion, I must not compare them with the Church or 
 neglect the first work of the Church for them. 
 
 "Jesus died to save a man who was immortal and 
 eternal. That means that He would do all He could 
 
A Minister in the Union. 139 
 
 for that man's welfare by association with your effort 
 in the union or anywhere, and so will I. 
 
 "It is not a false position in which I place Christ, 
 when I bring him into a labor union, or else I am 
 wrong in being here now, and every man of you is 
 out of his place. But I am simply trying to keep 
 Christ's death and life right before the world. Ask of 
 me as His representative anything that I can do for 
 your benefit, and I will do it. I promise you my 
 best co-operation and my deepest sympathy. I wish 
 I might shake hands with every one of you on that 
 promise." 
 
 Just as he was about to sit down, Henry Fielding 
 arose and said : 
 
 "Here is one man who would like to shake hands 
 with you, Mr. Dowling, and I wish you would stay 
 where you are until we have all had the opportunity." 
 
 David Dowling looked confused, but Henry was in 
 front of him in a moment, and then Richard, and fol- 
 lowing them nearly every man in the room passed 
 by him to grasp his hand. 
 
 Then the chairman said : 
 
 "I don't see any reason why this union could not 
 have honorary members, or some plan by which such 
 a friend of ours and our cause as Rev. Dowling could 
 be one of our number. I shall propose that change 
 in our constitution at the next meeting." 
 
140 A Minister in the Union. 
 
 The statement was greeted with the heartiest ap- 
 plause, and one of the most important meetings ever 
 held in a union came to its conclusion. 
 
 Who can say that it was not an epoch-making time 
 in the cause of the workingman. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN THE HOMES OE THE POOR. 
 
 After the service on Sunday morning, almost every- 
 one had passed out of the church. There were a few 
 scattered groups of two and three still talking. 
 
 Near the door stood Henry Fielding, waiting for 
 his opportunity to speak to Mr. Dowling. 
 
 In the other corner, Elsie and Grace were making 
 some plans for their missionary work during the com- 
 ing week. 
 
 Henry had been spoken to and welcomed as usual 
 by several of the congregation, but now he was alone. 
 He did not feel strange in a church, nor was he in 
 any special hurry to get away. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Dowling was at liberty, Henry- 
 walked up in front of the pulpit where he stood, and 
 received a hand grasp, which was only the sign of 
 deepest affection. 
 
 Immediately some one else was in their presence. 
 
 Elsie and Grace had received a sudden impulse to 
 ask Mr. Dowling and Henry to go with them the next 
 evening, and visit some of the homes and see the 
 needs in the poorest district of the city. 
 
 The invitation was met with almost immediate ac- 
 
142 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 ceptance when the discovery was made that the even- 
 ing was free from other engagements. 
 
 David Dowling would not have been so willing a 
 few weeks or months previous. 
 
 A great change had come into his life, and now 
 his heart carried a deep desire to help the poor and 
 the oppressed and to serve his fellow-man, without 
 regard to their station in life. 
 
 The soul of every man had taken on new value for 
 him, ind the Gospel new meaning and power. He 
 said : "I have been anxious to do just this. I want an 
 introduction to this kind of work, and I am going to 
 do more of it myself if I can — at least, I want to 
 come in contact with any man who needs Christ and 
 me. 
 
 He had just been preaching about the blind man 
 crying out for Christ to help him, and the surprise 
 of the crowd who witnessed Jesus stop and leave 
 them and their enthusiasm and worship in order to 
 lift up a poor wretch who lay in darkness and 
 poverty. 
 
 The conscientious minister preaches first to him- 
 self, and the truth which lay at the core of the Gos- 
 pel now pushed its way relentlessly toward the very 
 centre of his heart. He was moving in the footsteps 
 of the Son of God — at any cost to his desire and am- 
 bition and comfort. 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 143 
 
 A new ideal was rising in his sky like a bright star. 
 It was claiming and receiving his attention. 
 
 He once had aimed to be intellectually great; to 
 create masterpieces of literature ; to be rhetorical and 
 polished in style; to command the admiration of the 
 cultured and the rich. Now, all that must be sec- 
 ondary, and he was to save men, and by every legiti- 
 mate means draw them to their Saviour and into the 
 Church. 
 
 Instantly, when Grace Chalmers proposed this plan 
 for Monday evening, he saw blessing in it for him- 
 self as well as others, and the meeting of a great need 
 in his own life, for he had not made much investiga- 
 tion concerning the way the poor lived and suffered. 
 
 Henry hesitated a moment, because this was out of 
 his line and the errand was new to him, but the very 
 novelty of it attracted him, and then, again, there 
 were other attractions. 
 
 He would go most anywhere to be in certain com- 
 pany, but the chasm seemed to increase in width and 
 depth both, while no bridge appeared. 
 
 He tried to struggle against a certain feeling which 
 he could not understand, and wondered whether he 
 was a subject for the insane asylum, or what was the 
 matter with him. 
 
 The whole situation seemed ridiculous to him, but 
 he could not lessen the grip of something which was 
 reality, and yet he did not know what to call it. 
 
144 I n the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 In the secret silence of his own soul, he had said 
 often : 
 
 It was "sentiment," "infatuation," or a score of 
 other words without definition, but he never had ven- 
 tured to explain it by a monosyllable of four letters. 
 
 That would have been best, but it was too bold for 
 his modest and inexperienced state. 
 
 His hesitation soon vanished like a snowflake in 
 the warmth of the sun, while the flowers of his real 
 desire appeared in his answer, that he would be de- 
 lighted to go with them. 
 
 The next evening, by arrangement, they met at 
 Mr. Dowling's home, and started their journey from 
 that point. 
 
 They entered a downtown car, and Mr. Dowling 
 sat directly opposite to the other three, that being the 
 only vacant place. 
 
 He had been very quiet all the way, and now sat 
 in deep meditation, as if no one was near him. A 
 man can oftentimes be most alone in a crowd. The 
 loneliest place in the world is in the centre of the 
 rush of humanity which does not care any more for 
 you than the car itself, and would rather push against 
 you than against it. 
 
 The car was crowded, and he was out of reach of 
 their conversation, but was deep in his own thoughts. 
 They motioned to each other as he wrinkled his brow 
 and almost closed his eyes. The motion of his hands 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 145 
 
 as they pressed each other told the secret of his nerv- 
 ousness. No, it was more than that ; it was the hon- 
 est soul in a man while in life's greatest struggle — to 
 find the right path and take it, even though the 
 heaviest burden lay directly across it. 
 
 He was saying to himself: "Let the sermon go. 
 I must do more of this personal Christlike work." 
 
 David Dowling did not then know that that kind 
 of a resolution and life was the theological seminary 
 where the best doctrine and homiletics were learned. 
 An essay is not a sermon — that is only anatomy. A 
 sermon is something with blood in it. He was on 
 his way now for the material which makes the life 
 and effectiveness and saving force of the sermon. 
 
 A minister's study is not confined to the four walls 
 of a small room and musty commentaries and moldy 
 encyclopedias and machine-made sermons. 
 
 A man on one side of him was talking to the gen- 
 tleman with him about a great opportunity in busi- 
 ness. Some people standing in front of him were 
 talking about the theatre, and their anxiety to get 
 seats for the play that night, while some one near 
 him, partially intoxicated, was muttering a jumble of 
 unintelligible words, with an occasional oath in the 
 mixture. He heard it all, but his thoughts were too 
 overpowering to be conquered by it. 
 
 That was the picture of the whole world. The 
 good surrounded by the bad, and the bad making the 
 
146 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 most noise. But the good is here, and, though less 
 often seen and heard, has not less power. 
 
 A single man with a holy determination is a greater 
 factor in the world than some whole carloads of ordi- 
 nary humanity. 
 
 As the car stopped at one of the crossings a small 
 boy, burdened with a great bundle of clothing, which 
 he was apparently returning to the tailor shop, tried 
 to push his way on the car. The package was larger 
 than the boy, and he was almost exhausted, as he 
 dropped it partially in the doorway. 
 
 When the car started on, the conductor seized the 
 boy by the arm and said: "You can't have that on 
 here. You will have to get off again. It is in the 
 way, and we are not supposed to be an express cart." 
 
 The little fellow looked puzzled and frightened all 
 at once, and apparently did not know what to do. 
 With only a nickel, and more than a mile to go, what 
 should he do? 
 
 The car was at the next crossing, and the heartless 
 conductor had his hand on the boy's shoulder again, 
 ready to push him off, when suddenly a young man 
 arose, who sat near the door and had heard it all. 
 
 He was Henry Fielding. The same impulse, so 
 often appearing in his life, was at work again, and 
 if all the world tried to stop him, he must go on. He 
 suddenly seized the bundle, stepped in front of the 
 boy, and said : 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 147 
 
 "My boy, you stay on that car — at least till I get 
 off." 
 
 He then raised the huge bundle to his shoulder and 
 stepped as far away to the opposite side of the plat- 
 form as he could, and stood there with the load on 
 his strong shoulder and the poor boy in front of him, 
 amazed at his kindness. 
 
 Some of the passengers had not seen it, because of 
 the calmness and skill with which it was done. 
 Those who had were almost as much astonished as 
 the boy himself. 
 
 The most startled one of all was the conductor. 
 He pulled the rope and then began to talk, but the 
 car went on its way, and Henry never spoke a word. 
 
 He stood like a giant, the kingliest among men. 
 
 Three pairs of eyes were fastened on him with a 
 peculiar gaze. 
 
 Elsie was proud of her brother, and straightened 
 up, as if she wanted to tell everybody that she was his 
 sister. 
 
 David Dowling looked at the deed of courage and 
 love, and glanced away to the floor to mutter, almost 
 audibly: "Not far from the kingdom." 
 
 It was almost like Jesus, as he looked at the young 
 man and loved him. 
 
 Grace was possessed with a different thought and 
 feeling from the other two. It was something more 
 than admiration. Money could not win her. Posi- 
 
148 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 tion could not win her. Character was the only mag- 
 net. The divinity in manhood was the only sceptre 
 to which she would ever bow. 
 
 When they were to leave the car, Henry asked the 
 boy how far he had to go. It was several blocks dis- 
 tant. He then turned to the conductor, and inquired 
 if he would allow the boy and his bundle to stay 
 on the rest of the way. If not, he would go to the 
 end with him. 
 
 The conductor did not turn his head, but answered 
 gruffly — almost an indistinct grumble : "Yes, he can 
 stay." 
 
 The influence of that act was impressed upon every 
 witness, and they were to carry it to others, while 
 the wave was not to break until it reached the shore 
 of Eternity. 
 
 As they walked toward the corner, Mr. Dowling 
 turned a look at the disappearing car, and then said : 
 "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, 
 ye did it unto Christ." 
 
 Henry did not feel any pride. There was almost 
 something of the opposite in his heart that prompted 
 the immediate turning of the conversation into an- 
 other and more welcome channel. He said : 
 
 "Are we to trust ourselves to these two young 
 women. How do we know where they will take 
 us?" 
 
Ill the Homes of the Poor. 149 
 
 "I feel perfectly safe," replied Mr. Dowling; "let 
 them lead the way and we will follow." 
 
 Grace did not turn around, but went right on, 
 and only said : 
 
 "You need not tremble. We will not harm you, 
 and we will not let anybody else do so, either. We 
 will be your protectors to-night; at least, I am not 
 going to take you to any place where I have not 
 been before." 
 
 They turned another corner, where the accustomed 
 saloon gave out its bright light and poisonous odors. 
 
 A young man pushed through the half-screened 
 doorway and staggered out toward the curb. He 
 brushed against Mr. Dowling in his reeling movement 
 and mumbled some meaningless sentences as they 
 passed on. 
 
 David Dowling turned to look at him, and a burn- 
 ing desire to rescue him from the precipice just in 
 front of" his stumbling steps took possession of his 
 heart. 
 
 He paused and then walked on again, as he said 
 to Henry: 
 
 "Oh, what a pity that the saloon is permitted to 
 ruin so many of our best young men. That poor 
 fellow, even in his drunkenness, is marked with re- 
 finement, and I imagine came from a good home, 
 possibly even religious influence. But what can a 
 
150 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 man do for him? Nothing, to-night. I would stop 
 and talk to him and do anything to help him. That 
 is the way I feel now, but you might as well talk to 
 a piece of wood or block of stone " 
 
 "Perhaps better," interrupted Henry, "because he 
 would probably only insult you and swear at you." 
 
 "Yes, and I wish to Heaven that we could do 
 something to prevent these stations along the road 
 to perdition from transacting their awful business," 
 said Mr. Dowling. "It is a disgrace to our civiliza- 
 tion and an outrage upon humanity. These places 
 ruin more young men in one night than my church 
 saves in five years. They are also the greatest enemy 
 of the workingman." 
 
 Just then Grace paused at the foot of a dark stair- 
 way. 
 
 "I have been here before," she said; "don't be 
 afraid. Follow me, and they will be glad to see us, 
 I know." 
 
 She went on until she reached the second floor, 
 and rapped upon the door at the head of the stairs. 
 
 A woman opened it, and appeared surprised for a 
 moment — not at seeing Grace, because she knew her 
 — but at her companions. 
 
 The woman was only about thirty years of age. 
 She carried a careworn and almost discouraged look. 
 In every feature was the mark of trouble deep cut. 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 151 
 
 The smile had disappeared, evidently never to re- 
 turn. 
 
 Oh, the tragedy of such a life ! 
 
 She had married with brightest prospects of a 
 happy future in a home of her own. The years had 
 come freighted with a great load of struggle and op- 
 position. They had tried hard and honestly to make 
 a living for themselves and their two children, but 
 now her husband was in one of their two rooms, 
 suffering not only the pain physical, but the greatest 
 pangs of the soul also. 
 
 Despair was thrusting its blade into his heart. The 
 world was dark. It was midnight all the time. He 
 could want himself, but to see his wife and children 
 lack the very necessities of life was more than he 
 could bear. Death would be a relief, but he was 
 not a coward, and suicide did not even suggest itself 
 to him. But just what they were to do, he did not 
 know. 
 
 Grace in her own way changed the atmosphere of 
 their poor home into a welcome for herself and her 
 friends. 
 
 She told them she came simply to inquire about 
 Mr. Robbins, and that she wanted him to know her 
 pastor, and also Miss Fielding's brother. 
 
 It was a poor substitute for a home, and that sacred 
 name ought not to be given to such places. Here 
 human beings could only exist, not live. 
 
152 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 The children were asleep together upon an old 
 lounge, and the curtain between the two rooms had 
 been drawn aside, so that the father could be seen, 
 while Grace stood midway between the rooms, and 
 Mr. Dowling had gone to the bedside and asked 
 what the trouble was. 
 
 Grace knew the sad story, and she helped him tell it. 
 
 He had been employed by the street car company 
 to take the place of one of the strikers, and was on 
 his last trip for the night. The car had almost 
 reached the terminus of the road. 
 
 Every passenger was out. He and the conductor 
 were alone, when suddenly from a place in the shadow 
 of the electric light a brick was hurled and broke the 
 headlight, while almost at the same instant another 
 had come with better aim, and struck him on the right 
 shoulder. 
 
 He had turned the handle almost enough to stop 
 the car when the first crash came, thinking that some- 
 thing had exploded under the car, and was just real- 
 izing what had taken place and getting ready to turn 
 on the power again and escape, when the blow, as 
 from a bolt of lightning, paralyzed his arm and side, 
 so that he could not move. 
 
 He had almost fallen, but was up again, unable to 
 lift his hand, or do anything, and the car came to a 
 standstill. It all happened so quickly that his com- 
 panion had not reached the front of the car before it 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 153 
 
 was surrounded by angry men. They seized him and 
 dragged him over the inclosure, and beat him with a 
 half dozen blows at once. They called him "scab" 
 and "tramp" and cursed him, and left him on the hard 
 pavement, more dead than alive. 
 
 Help was soon there, and employees and policemen 
 had scattered the strikers after a battle, in which 
 seven had been injured and one man shot by an of- 
 ficer. 
 
 They were determined to break the car, and had 
 succeeded in its ruin before they fled. When Mr. 
 Robbins recovered sufficiently, he was carried into his 
 poor home about twelve o'clock at night. 
 
 The feelings of his broken-hearted wife, after wait- 
 ing weeks for employment, could not be described. 
 Death itself would have been a relief for either one, 
 and that night they imagined that even the children 
 would be better off without them. 
 
 He said now to Mr. Dowling : 
 
 "Don't think that I blame the strikers. I don't 
 know what to say about it. I didn't want to take 
 the job. It was a case of necessity. I must steal, 
 starve, beg or take the risk of their threats. They 
 warned us often enough. They ought to have bet- 
 ter pay and shorter hours. They ought not to work 
 seven days in the week. They are right. I would 
 rather be called anything else in the world than a 
 
154 I n the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 'scab.' I am on their side, and I felt guilty every turn 
 I gave the electric motor. The company can get men 
 enough — poor sticks, most of them — but they don't 
 ask any odds of the old and faithful employees. I 
 did it for the sake of my wife and babies, and here I 
 am. I wouldn't do it again. I will stand by my fel- 
 low workmen. Better for a man to starve than to 
 be a slave." 
 
 The man was so earnest and almost excited that 
 Mr. Dowling had to interrupt him in order to get an 
 opportunity to say anything, but "Mr. Robbins," he 
 said, "it certainly cannot be right for one man to 
 pound another. There is no law or liberty in that. 
 That is barbarism, and not Americanism." 
 
 "Yes," said he, "but what will the men do? I step 
 in and run their cars for the same old wages or less, 
 and then their families suffer. It is only a change of 
 people, that is all, and the condition remains the 
 same." 
 
 Mr. Dowling did not know what to say for an in- 
 stant, but ventured : 
 
 "Yes, but it must be wrong, and I hope some other 
 way can be found." 
 
 "So do I," said he, "and I hope they will find the 
 way for all men to earn an honest living." 
 
 "The rule is," said Mr. Dowling, "that men do have 
 a way, but I suppose there are exceptions. Most of 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 155 
 
 the needy people are to blame themselves, or their an- 
 cestors." 
 
 "But I " 
 
 "Wait a minute," continued Mr. Dowling. "I don't 
 say that you are to blame, only that I think that 
 there are not many exceptions to the rule in this great 
 city." 
 
 "Yes, more than you think, and it makes a man al- 
 most believe there is no right and no God, or any- 
 thing like I used to think." 
 
 "Hold on, there is a God and He is caring for you. 
 Out of all these troubles and reverses there will come 
 some good and a speedy relief." 
 
 "It has been a long time coming," said he. "There 
 must be something wrong with either society or with 
 me. Perhaps it is with me, but I know it is not 
 with Mary and the babies," and then the great tears 
 rolled down his face. 
 
 Grace took a step nearer to him, and said : 
 
 "Now, you know me, and you will not starve. Just 
 cheer up, and there will be a better day." 
 
 "Yes," spoke out Henry, "I am in with the work- 
 ingmen, and perhaps I can help you in some way. I 
 have not much, but here is two dollars for you to- 
 night," and he laid it on the table by the hand of 
 Mrs. Robbins. 
 
 David Dowling had been in many a dilemma in his 
 life, but at no time more so than now. He wanted 
 
156 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 to say and do the helpful thing, but he did not know 
 what it was. 
 
 That is the old problem for the earnest soul. 
 
 At last he took hold of the man's hand, and said : 
 
 "I am your friend, and I will see you again. I will 
 pray for you when I am not here, but I would like to 
 pray for you now. God does live, and He lives for 
 you. Trust Him. I have been in the dark, too — not 
 just as you are now, but in another way, and just as 
 dark for me. I can sympathize, but there is no relief 
 — only in God. Do you want me to pray?" 
 
 It was not a very hearty reply which came from the 
 sick man, but he half whispered, "Yes, I would like 
 to have you." 
 
 They all kneeled, and one of the most earnest 
 prayers arose from those poor surroundings. It 
 seemed as if Christ was there. It was so much like 
 some of His work when upon earth. 
 
 One minister was coming to learn the art of the 
 Christ — coming to receive the joy and satisfaction of 
 Christ. 
 
 They had tarried so much longer than Grace ex- 
 pected, and most of the evening had passed already, 
 but they hastened on another block and a half, and 
 stood in front of a dilapidated old building of five 
 stories in height, with a very narrow stairway to 
 reach the upper floors. 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 157 
 
 Grace said : "Here is another one of my families. 
 I want you to see them." 
 
 "I am afraid it is too late," replied Mr. Dowling, 
 as he looked at his watch, and said: "It is almost 
 nine o'clock." 
 
 "Oh, that won't make any difference. I am sure we 
 can find her," answered Grace. "She sews half the 
 night, and I want you to see how some people have 
 to work." 
 
 They were already on their way up the stairs, and 
 Henry called out to the leader to ask if there was no 
 end to the climb, or if they were ascending an Eifel 
 tower. 
 
 When they reached the fifth floor, the single 
 roomed home was opened for them, but it was almost 
 too crowded to receive them all. 
 
 A small woman, with bright but worn appearance, 
 arose from her sewing machine as her child of twelve 
 years opened the door, and told her that Miss Chal- 
 mers was there. 
 
 She could not understand the late visit, or the com- 
 ing of so many, until Grace had explained it by say- 
 ing that she wanted her to know Mr. Dowling and 
 her other friends, who could not come any other time, 
 and this was later than they had planned, but she 
 added : 
 
 "I knew you would be at work, and would not mind 
 the hour, or so many of us coming, either." 
 
158 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 There were only two chairs, and another with the 
 back broken, also a lounge, which another child of 
 eight years occupied. 
 
 They could not all sit down if they had desired to 
 do so, but that was not necessary now, and Grace said 
 she need not apologize, because they would not sit 
 down if she had twice as many chairs. They must 
 not stay, only a moment or two. 
 
 It was a room, clean, but oh, so small and close and 
 poorly lighted. It was ruin to eyes and health to 
 work so many hours each day in a place like that, and 
 then to sleep in it for the few remaining hours of the 
 night. 
 
 The dream which many people in the great city 
 have concerning heaven is that there will be room 
 enough. So crowded here, "room" is another name 
 for heaven in the tenements. 
 
 David Dowling and Henry Fielding stood speech- 
 less, and had each his own thoughts and feelings, but 
 they were not so very far apart. 
 
 Grace was explaining to them that this woman had 
 cared for her husband in this same room for two 
 years, while he was dying daily of consumption, and 
 that she was such a hero that she not only looked af- 
 ter him, but supported the little family and paid the 
 rent. The doctor did not come very often, but even 
 he had never lost a farthing by her. 
 
 "I do not see how it is possible," said Henry. 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 159 
 
 "Well, she is doing the same now. Tell them, Mrs. 
 Mason, how much you get for your sewing." 
 
 The color in her face deepened, and she hesitated 
 for a moment, but then said : 
 
 "Well, I am almost ashamed of it." 
 
 "You need not be the one to be ashamed," said 
 Grace. "The people who make you do it for them 
 are the guilty ones." 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "and society ought to make 
 them blush more than it does." 
 
 "I am thankful," she replied, "to get it at all. It 
 is my living now, and I don't know what I would do 
 if they stopped me." 
 
 "What do they pay you ?" queried Mr. Dowling. 
 
 He was afraid she was forgetting to tell them, and 
 he was anxious to know and hear the story of a poor 
 sewing woman, first hand and for himself. 
 
 She looked up at him and said : "I am making 
 vests now, and I get for my work on them six cents 
 apiece. I can make five of them in the day, and if 
 I work at night until twelve o'clock, I can make 
 eight. Sometimes Minnie and I work until later than 
 that, and make ten. She does what work is done here 
 about the room and the cooking. Of course, that is 
 not very much, and then we work together. I fur- 
 nish my own thread and machine. Fifty cents, sir, 
 is a good day for us, and we are ready to sleep on 
 that. I make cheap trousers, too, and get for them 
 
160 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 one dollar and a half a dozen pair. It takes me al- 
 most three days for a dozen." 
 
 Mr. Dowling never moved his eyes from the wo- 
 man's face. 
 
 He was almost transfixed at hearing such a reve- 
 lation of the real truth, and seeing it all for himself. 
 He could not help feeling that there were many 
 wrongs to be righted in the present system, and that 
 his Gospel must have a bearing upon it. 
 
 "But you know," she continued, "we are glad and 
 anxious to get it at that price. Many women right 
 in this tenement would be willing to take my work if 
 they could get it, and some of them, too, would do it 
 for less." 
 
 "I don't know who is to be blamed," said Henry. 
 "I hope that it will be better for you, anyway, very 
 soon. I work every day, and work hard, but I am 
 sure that I do not know yet what you know about it." 
 
 "I wanted you to know," said Grace, "that you had 
 friends, and we will not forget you, will we?" she 
 asked, with a glance and turn toward them all. 
 
 They all nodded, and Elsie asked if there was any- 
 thing she needed now especially. 
 
 The woman would not own that there was, and said 
 they were getting along very comfortably. 
 
 They all bade her good-night, with the assurance 
 of their friendship and interest in her, and promised 
 to come as:ain. 
 
In the Homes of the Poor. 161 
 
 Some money had been left on the table without a 
 word, and Christ whispered "inasmuch" again. 
 
 Another life and family had been touched by real 
 Christianity. Less toil that night, and sweeter rest — 
 some light through the cloud. 
 
 Mr. Dowling remarked with a sigh, as they reached 
 the last step of the stairway: 
 
 "One half of the world does not know how the 
 other half lives." 
 
 "Unquestionably," said Henry, as they passed on 
 toward the car. 
 
 "Much of the poverty and suffering comes directly 
 and indirectly from sin, but we have seen at least 
 some to-night which apparently does not. Yes," 
 continued Mr. Dowling, "it has been a revelation to 
 me. Christ would have been helping this class of 
 people more than I have, and I am going to do my 
 part in the future. I do not believe that any man 
 knows the real Christ-life who simply preaches to a 
 rich congregation, and is satisfied with that. My 
 life in the ministry has not been satisfactory to my- 
 self. I have had many a thought of going out of it, 
 and other unholy suggestions. It is just because I 
 have not gone at it in the Christ way." 
 
 He almost stopped as he said : 
 
 "Henry Fielding, these have been wonderful weeks 
 in my life. It seems as if I had lived years in these 
 
162 In the Homes of the Poor. 
 
 days. I have been praying that it might be the same 
 with you." 
 
 Henry looked at him, and replied: 
 
 "Your prayer has been answered." 
 
 They were about to part, and Mr. Dowling said : 
 
 "I have my sermon for next Sunday. You wiU 
 have to be there." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A HERO IN THE PUEPIT. 
 
 David Dowling was more truthful than his con- 
 science made him believe, after he parted from his 
 friends. He had said to them that the experience of 
 the evening had given him his sermon for the next 
 Sunday. 
 
 While that statement was not literally true in let- 
 ter, period and comma, yet it was the very heart of 
 the truth. 
 
 He had his sermon for Sunday morning planned 
 before this, and was ready to announce it in the pa- 
 per and church bulletin the next morning, but now 
 it was charged with new life. It was practically a 
 new sermon. He must change it and fill it in and 
 preach it entirely different from the original plan. 
 
 Most of the time in his life when he had mapped 
 out and written his sermon, he laid it away to rest 
 sweetly until Sunday morning, and hardly awakened 
 it long enough for a half hour's sensation in the 
 church, and then usually it went to eternal rest. 
 
 Now it was his own blood and own heart which 
 was to make the sermon. It was the result of a holy 
 compulsion. 
 
164 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 He had convictions and consecration, but they 
 were more than sentences and words. 
 
 "I must — and I ought," were more than many sen- 
 tences to him now. 
 
 They had enlarged into the most important words 
 in his vocabulary. 
 
 The great strike had continued in the city, and it 
 had come to the hour when everybody was being af- 
 fected by it, and intensely interested in it. 
 
 He said : "The Church is one of the places, if not 
 the first place, in which to discuss it, and help to fur- 
 nish the remedy. If this does not vitally affect the 
 Kingdom of God, I would like to know what does. 
 Christ had something to say about the most import- 
 ant elements in the society of His day, and I am His 
 representative to-day. God helping me, I will bring 
 the light of the Gospel into this darkness, and the 
 peace of Jesus into this strife between capital and 
 labor." 
 
 This righteous resolution was being carried into 
 effect each day of the week by most earnest prayer 
 and preparation. 
 
 The announcement of his intention had spread 
 among his own people, and among the union men. 
 Most of them who did not know him only said : "Oh, 
 he is on the side of his parishioners, and will only 
 touch the surface of it, and will leave the men to 
 suffer the same injustice." 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 165 
 
 There was excitement in the church, because two 
 of the officials in one of the street car companies were 
 members of his church, and several other people who 
 were regular attendants at the service, were known to 
 own stock in the railroads of the city. 
 
 The building - was crowded when the hour for the 
 Sunday morning service arrived, and some were go- 
 ing away rather than stand up the whole hour. 
 
 There was a cry which only angels and the ear of 
 God heard this morning in the pastor's room just 
 as the organ began to play and the choir to take their 
 places. 
 
 "Oh, God, help me to be true to Thee, and to every 
 man this morning, even if it costs my position or my 
 life." 
 
 And then a man appeared on the platform, whose 
 face shone like the faces of his companions in the 
 private room. 
 
 Those who had known him best and longest said 
 they had never seen him look so noble and almost di- 
 vine. 
 
 A clear, courageous conscience changes any man's 
 face. 
 
 What is it but the index of the soul ? 
 
 The most interested and attentive listener was 
 Henry Fielding, and, strange to say, he heard scarcely 
 any of the opening service. He was otherwise en- 
 gaged. Prayer became a reality to him again. He 
 
1 66 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 was buttressing and barricading the sermon and mak- 
 ing it a mighty fortress of power. That is largely 
 the strength in the sermon. 
 
 You can plant the seed in a cave, and not have 
 flower or fruit. The sermon is planted, but needs the 
 warmth and light of sunshine and necessary environ- 
 ment. 
 
 After a pause, which brought perfect quiet all over 
 the building and arrested attention, David Dowling 
 arose, walked to the edge of the platform, and stood 
 one side of the pulpit, with his hand on the open 
 Bible. 
 
 At any other time he would have trembled and 
 found his introduction the hardest part of the ser- 
 mon. Now he seemed conscious of the presence of 
 Christ, and recognized that he was simply his mouth- 
 piece. He raised his hand slowly, and then dropped 
 it upon the Bible again, as he said : 
 
 "Here is the constitution for every labor union, 
 and the only rule of life for every employer. The 
 question which I am to discuss this morning is of 
 vital import to society and the Church, and the King- 
 dom of God. While I propose to s^eak unhesitatingly 
 the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, 
 I will not intentionally be personal, but want it to 
 have its application to my own life as well as to that 
 of every other man. 
 
 "I understand the union man and his object better 
 
A Hero in tne Pulpit. 167 
 
 than I ever did. I have seen the sufferings of the 
 poor more than I ever have. I am convinced of cer- 
 tain injustices in modern society and the duty of the 
 Church of Jesus Christ to assist in making the wrong 
 right. We cannot be silent beholders of oppression 
 in any form, and the ravages of selfishness without 
 bringing upon ourselves just condemnation, and mak- 
 ing our precious Gospel to lose the last vestige of 
 power over the individual and his society. I would 
 give my very blood at this instant if I could only show 
 the spirit of Christ through His Church, to every 
 workingman in this city. 
 
 "We are nearer right and nearer to His cause than 
 they think, but we are not all up to the point where 
 the Saviour of man stands. 
 
 "If the Gospel in the heart of the employer does not 
 kill selfishness, I will never preach it again." 
 
 There was an evident effect produced by this sen- 
 tence, and after a pause, Mr. Dowling continued : 
 
 "Understand me, I did not say that it did not have 
 that effect, and that there are not genuine Christian 
 employers. There are many of them, but I do declare 
 that that is what the Gospel does do for every man 
 who has the right to be a member of the Church. 
 
 "Before I proceed with the sermon, I must tell you 
 what my eyes saw this last week, and if I could, I 
 would reveal to you what my heart felt." 
 
 Then he gave the audience a vivid and touching 
 
1 68 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 picture of the scenes in the homes of the poor, and 
 told the sorrow of the man who had been called 
 "scab" and injured, and yet did not blame the men 
 who had beaten him. As he finished the pathetic ac- 
 count, some handkerchiefs were seen, and some mem- 
 bers were nodding to each other. 
 
 One man, who was presumably a union man, and 
 sat near the door, spoke out in a subdued and almost 
 frightened tone, "He is right." 
 
 Mr. Dowling gave no heed to any movements or 
 sound, but went on to say : 
 
 "There is no question before the public more im- 
 portant than this one. It has so many radii reaching 
 out from its centre to the very circumference of so- 
 ciety. Discussion of it is valuable, but the day has 
 dawned for Christian activity. 
 
 "In our greatest prosperity there are thousands in 
 want of food and clothing. Thousands who are hon- 
 est and industrious. They may not have great abili- 
 ty, but they are not lazy, nor are they criminals. 
 
 "Witness every strike we have in these great cities. 
 Why are they nearly always ineffectual and result in 
 greater loss to the employees? Because there are 
 waiting ten times as many men as are needed to take 
 their places. A strike has come to be almost of no 
 avail, unless it is backed up by force, and then we 
 cry 'outlaws' and 'criminals,' 'barbarism/ 'ought not 
 to succeed.' 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 169 
 
 "And this is also true, that most of the men who do 
 come to take the places of the strikers are simply will- 
 ing to take their lives in their hands in order to feed 
 their wives and starving children. They are not rush- 
 ing into this hazardous work because they like its 
 danger or find pleasure in the labor. It is often not 
 even to earn wages for themselves, but the sublime 
 struggle and sacrifice for others. What will the work- 
 ingmen do under existing conditions? Is it right to 
 strike ? Does the strike furnish the remedy ? Every 
 man who is a patriot or a Christian ought to help fur- 
 nish an answer to these questions. 
 
 "What will the man or body of men subjugated to 
 oppression do? There is a real question in the 
 world of labor. It is not all imaginary. It is the most 
 vital element in our city's life now. If there is want 
 of work and want of justice, something is wrong 
 somewhere. 
 
 "It is not caused by the introduction of new ma- 
 chinery. At the first reception of new machines there 
 is a displacement of labor, and oftentimes with such 
 rapidity that much hardship results. Then comes 
 strikes and the destruction of property. But all the 
 history of this tells one story, that within a short pe- 
 riod of time several men are employed in the place 
 of every man deprived of work by these victories of 
 inventive genius. Every time society gets a service 
 rendered with less of human effort, blessing immeas- 
 
170 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 ureable results. No man can trace its ramifications 
 through society. 
 
 "Stage drivers and hostlers and waiters and farm- 
 ers lose occupation when the stage coach is stopped, 
 but that number has been multiplied a thousand 
 times by the vast number of railroad employees, and 
 at far better wages. Progress means new demand, 
 but patience must be exercised. After the machine 
 has done its momentary work and apparent injury, 
 the years pass on to bless it. Nor is the present con- 
 dition of want of food and want of work due to the 
 poor country in which we live. There is an abundance 
 for all. There is enough in this rich land for more 
 than one hundred times as many in the family. We 
 . can waste a hundred million of dollars a year in to- 
 bacco and one billion, five hundred million a year in 
 rum, and just here is the great burden of sin upon the 
 workingmen. The larger part of that enormous ex- 
 penditure and worse than waste is from his scanty 
 store. He is guilty, and he has suffered the penalty. 
 By economy and temperance the workingman could 
 save and become independent, and perhaps employ 5 
 ers themselves. If one man drinks up his money, 
 he ought not to curse the other man who saves it. 
 Let every man bear his own just share of the respon- 
 sibility. The workingman ought to rise up against 
 this startling waste and sin. He ought to declare it 
 as his greatest enemy and fight it to the death. 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 171 
 
 "Neither is the present condition produced by the 
 influx of foreign labor. This is not great enough as 
 a factor. The poor and unskilled labor has been hin- 
 dered, and it should be. The incompetent and crim- 
 inal element of old world population should not be 
 permitted to land on these shores to take the places of 
 skilled and faithful men by accepting less pay. 
 
 "Blame the laboring man as you will, I say he must 
 protect his wages. That is one purpose of his union, 
 and it is not a fault. His skill and his reward are his 
 property. Why not insure it and protect it? It is 
 more sacred property than real estate or the steel 
 rails of street car companies. He ought to use every 
 legitimate means to keep it. 
 
 "What right has a street car company to thrust a 
 faithful employee's wages down and increase his 
 hours of toil, and do it by the force of placing the 
 lives of our citizens in the keeping of another ignor- 
 ant and careless man who turns an electric motor for 
 less pay? This is the problem, but it is not the su- 
 preme factor or the real producing cause. Neither 
 has the monopoly'or combination of the present day 
 as tyrannical a power over man and society as many 
 have supposed. They have lessened the working 
 forces in some directions, but have increased it in 
 others, and in time there will arise out of these 
 changes now new demands. 
 
 "They cannot do as they please, nor charge what 
 
172 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 they will. The element of competition has not been 
 silenced. The moment the price is raised where there 
 is a profit in it for others, many will grasp the oppor- 
 tunity. Labor was practically in the same condition 
 and struggle before this new feature in the social 
 world. 
 
 "I read yesterday the writing of one prominent 
 union man, who said : 'The promised prosperity has 
 arrived — the genuine, unadulterated article ; and how 
 the capitalists rejoice. But the wage slaves ! Oh, 
 they are not to be considered, only as so many tools 
 or machines that are only fit to toil and support the 
 idle capitalist when it seems to be the most profita- 
 ble. Workingmen, do you realize that you and your 
 class are the only ones who can and will give your- 
 selves any better conditions? Strike the capitalist 
 intrenchment in its weakest point. Capitalism or pri- 
 vate ownership is wholly responsible for all the vice, 
 crime, misery, want and servitude of the masses. 
 Strong men willing to work starve while gazing 
 on stores of food which is controlled for private in- 
 terest. Little children go to bed hungry, while cap- 
 italists are feeding on luxuries they never earned. 
 The miner digs into the bowels of the earth, hid away 
 in a dungeon, toiling out his own life, scarcely see- 
 ing the light of day, to support a class who never 
 aid in production, but feast on the blood and sweat 
 that has been coined into dollars. Get rid at least of 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 173 
 
 the superstition that there would be no capital if 
 there were no capitalists, for it is this absurd notion 
 which keeps you in bondage; which makes each of 
 you look beggingly to some capitalist for employment 
 instead of looking fraternally to each other for mutual 
 service in co-operation.' 
 
 "He writes extravagantly and does injury to his 
 own cause. That is not the right method to pursue, 
 nor is the cure presented, only in a vague and hack- 
 neyed way. There is something deeper than that. 
 Many wise men and true hearts have advocated the 
 public ownership of public utilities. That would pre- 
 vent the repetition of this present situation. This is 
 undoubtedly true in a measure, and I wish it was in 
 effect to-day, but that only touches the public utili- 
 ties, and leaves out the general condition and great 
 question. 
 
 "No city ought to be subjugated to the inconvenience 
 and injustice of a street car strike. That affects other 
 people more in some instances than it does the corpo- 
 ration or their employees. Our rights and liberties 
 must be considered. Light, water, postal, telegraph 
 and transportation services ought to be under Govern- 
 ment control. The crime of the past is the cause of 
 the penalty to-day. We give away valuable fran- 
 chises and hundreds of millions of acres of land, and 
 these days are the result. Here are the most frequent 
 and bitterest strikes, and it ought never to have been 
 
174 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 possible. The old world is ahead of us, and the gov- 
 ernments are making great revenue from the very 
 things in which the individuals and corporations in 
 this country are hoarding their millions. 
 
 "This is not the extreme of socialism. It is only 
 good government and good sense. Even in the pres- 
 ent position, no strike should be possible in these de- 
 partments of our life and commerce. Here at least 
 we could have a permanent court of arbitration, 
 whose power was final. Our business should be es- 
 tablished upon the principle of our Government. 
 There we have a king, but he is controlled ; there we 
 have the people, but they are not a mob. Both are 
 governed as well as governing. 
 
 "In the case of the capitalist, he is a most import- 
 ant element in our society. In proportion to his good- 
 ness is his value. The workingmen are just as valu- 
 able to society, and we have a multitude of the best 
 in the world. The good capitalist, like a good king, 
 is one of the greatest blessings, if he does not op- 
 press his fellowmen, and is willing to divide reason- 
 ably the profits with his employees, and surrounds his 
 factory or men or railroad with an atmosphere of 
 brotherhood and love. He may be a benefactor, in- 
 deed, but if he is a bad man, he is like the king who 
 becomes simply a tyrant on his throne. 
 
 "So the workingmen are the very sinew of our life. 
 They are now the lower class. The}' are on a level 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 175 
 
 with the best. Every citizen ought to be a working- 
 man in the best definition of that term. If the work- 
 ingman is industrious and honest and economical, and 
 possesses ability, he is not only a necessity, but one of 
 the greatest elements of wealth in our society. Neither 
 employer or employee ought to rule this country un- 
 guarded. That is contrary to every principle of the 
 Republic. You make kings and create mobs to your 
 shame and your death. We have individual liberty, 
 bounded by law. It is almost an outrage to put in 
 the hands of any one man or corporation the interests 
 of a whole city. 
 
 "In this present crisis I am impressed with the cer- 
 tainty of the men being in the right. They have been 
 oppressed for months and years by an increase in 
 their hours of toil, with no rest-day in the week, as 
 God ordained, and as every man has the right to pos- 
 sess. More than that, there has now been made a 
 slight reduction in wages. It is the hour for a strike, 
 if no other power will secure justice. Why is all this 
 increase of hours and lowering of wages? Is it be- 
 cause the stockholders are growing poorer? No, their 
 dividends are increasing and they are growing richer 
 every day. It is only the process of selfishness. 
 
 "Forgive me if there is any offense, but I must 
 speak the truth, even though I die in the utterance. 
 Do I advocate a strike ? No, it ought to be the last 
 resort. The workingmen may have made the mistake 
 
176 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 of taking this last means too hastily. After every- 
 thing else has failed, what is there for the men to do, 
 if not to strike? 
 
 "We are coming nearer the day when arbitration 
 will settle these disputes. That is the next great 
 epoch in the history of labor, but until that hour, I 
 know of no other procedure than that which is adopt- 
 ed. I am not prepared to say how it shall be con- 
 ducted. I don't think there should be force used to 
 the bodily injury of other men, nor should there be 
 the destruction of property. I am convinced that the 
 end would be attained and public sympathy aroused 
 more quickly by the right and lawful way. 
 
 "Public opinion is the great force to keep upon your 
 side. You must lose if you lose that. You forfeit 
 that by undue haste or lawlessless. 
 
 "Now, I am afraid that some of you have disagreed 
 with me, and perhaps may be even offended at me, 
 but both employers and employees listen. Be calm 
 and fair. Hear me through. I do not stand for my 
 own opinions this morning. I stand for the thoughts 
 and purposes of Jesus Christ. What are the great 
 principles which he came to introduce into the world 
 of business and labor? Both sides must abide by his 
 decision. You cannot escape it, for even the judg- 
 ment throne of God is governed by the Gospel. 
 
 "A distinguished statesman, who now holds the 
 high office of associate justice of the Supreme Court 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 177 
 
 of the United States, said recently : 'You ministers 
 are making a fatal mistake in not holding forth be- 
 fore men, as prominently as the previous generation 
 did, the retributive justice of God. You have fallen 
 into a sentimental style of rhapsodizing over the love 
 of God, and you are not appealing to that fear of fu- 
 ture punishment which your Lord and Master made 
 such a prominent element in His preaching. And we 
 are seeing the effects of it in the widespread demoral- 
 ization of private virtue and corruption of public 
 conscience throughout the land.' And an authority 
 higher than any statesman or jurist has said : 'I will 
 forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear Him who, 
 when He hath killed the body, hath power to cast 
 both soul and body into hell.' It is a sad and awful 
 truth that sin kills beyond the tomb. To hide this 
 truth from men by cowardly silence is disloyalty to 
 Him who hath called men to* preach His Gospel. 
 
 "The judgment is a part of the Gospel, and every 
 man must face it. The capitalist will answer for 
 every dollar that he has made, and the laborer will an- 
 swer for every strike he has inaugurated or in which 
 he has engaged. 
 
 "I have said once that Christ would belong to a 
 labor union. I have no reason now to change that 
 declaration. At least, if he would not belong to it, I 
 ought not and you should not. Neither do I see any 
 reason why Christ could not be an employer, but the 
 
178 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 same divine principle would control his acts in either 
 place. 
 
 "It is selfishness, pure and unadulterated, which is 
 at the source of misunderstandings and quarrels be- 
 tween capital and labor. We are willing that Christ 
 should reign in the Church on Sunday, but not will- 
 ing that he should rule in our lives on Monday. 
 
 "Men are not controlled by Christ's law of service 
 and sacrifice seven days in the week. We talk about 
 progress in the world. There is no progress apart 
 from unity. We must all keep together, and no man 
 be left behind. That is both philosophy and religion 
 — yes, it is the fact itself. The hovels of the poor are 
 not far from the palace gates. Dives and Lazarus are 
 blood relatives. Leave one part of the city in ignor- 
 ance and want, and the other part in progress ? Never. 
 We move, but we must all keep together. That is the 
 principle of every word upon the lips of Christ, and 
 every act in his life. This is the brotherhood of man ; 
 this is the fatherhood of God ; this is the triumph of 
 the Gospel ; this is the programme of Christianity. 
 The Golden Rule is not a farce, but a glorious possi- 
 bility and reality. The end of all this must be Chris- 
 tian arbitration. Strikes are dangerous and injurious, 
 if not altogether wrong and contrary to our Christian 
 and political principles. There ought to be some 
 other way, and there must be. What is in store for 
 factories and places of business and homes, and even 
 
A Hero in the Pulpit. 179 
 
 the Church, if a mob of people using lynch law shall 
 triumph? What is in future for men if the railroad 
 corporation succeeds without arbitration? It would 
 be perilous to the best interests of us all to have them 
 meet with success and force men to work for less 
 than they earn. 
 
 "Would to God a court of arbitration could be es- 
 tablished on Christian principles, and the impulse 
 would push the world rapidly nearer the throne of 
 God. Would to God that you employers here to-day 
 could take hold of the pierced hand of Christ, and ask 
 Him to lead you. Do not hesitate. Make the ven- 
 ture — dare to face duty. It is right, it is the only 
 right ; your eternity is in it. Make your Christianity 
 real. Show it to these men — yes, show Christ to 
 them. That is your first business. Give them jus- 
 tice — aye, more than that — give them sacrifice or you 
 do not share in Calvary. 
 
 "Oh, you men who are in the labor unions of the 
 city, whether in the street car strike or not, hearken 
 to me. This is not rhetoric now. This is my blood. 
 Give Jesus Christ a chance in your life. Your em- 
 ployers may not be all to blame. Is your record in re- 
 lation to them perfectly clean? Have you always 
 done unto them as you would that they should do to 
 you ? Stand up like a man against every wrong meth- 
 od, and only do what you know the Carpenter of Naz- 
 areth would do in your place. Make the Gospel prac- 
 
180 A Hero in the Pulpit. 
 
 tical. It can be. It was intended for your union and 
 your toil. Christ wants you ; the Church wants you ; 
 I want you — every man of you, to give your hearts 
 to the Lord Jesus and serve Him. 
 
 "The only remedy for labor and all trouble is His 
 Divine Spirit in the hearts of individual men. Christ 
 saved society, but, man, he must first save you." 
 
 There was perfect silence in the great audience for 
 a half minute after Mr. Dowling finished. 
 
 Then the services closed in almost the same quiet, 
 and few tarried to speak with each other. The im- 
 pression was so great. The burning conviction of a 
 true man had entered the hearts of every listener. 
 
 The preacher went immediately to his room, and 
 wondered, but was satisfied. Duty done is the author 
 of peace in the soul. 
 
 Within two months, twenty-nine members of the la- 
 bor union had accepted Christ as their Saviour, and 
 became members of David Dowling's church. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HENRY FIELDING'S CONVERSION. 
 
 In the last meeting of Union No. 10 there had been 
 a most earnest desire manifested to do the right thing. 
 More so than ever before. Now the business and dis- 
 cussion were more personal, and yet the men were 
 more conservative and charitable than in the past. 
 Most of them were not conscious of it, but it was 
 plainly manifest. Some new power had control, and 
 they were breathing a purer air. 
 
 The question now was not one of strikes in gen- 
 eral or concerning the street car strike now going on, 
 but it was their own interest and their own families 
 which were to suffer. They were sure of the lockout. 
 It had passed beyond the boundaries of threat and 
 was assuming a distinct form of reality. 
 
 Most of the men were undecided. They wanted to 
 be independent and heroic enough to- fight and starve 
 if necessary, but their case was not altogether a clear 
 one. There were two sides to it, and they were honest 
 enough not to desire to ignore that, and close their 
 eyes willfully to the rights of their employers. 
 
 The rabid enthusiast was heard many times during 
 the meeting that night. A decision must be made 
 
1 82 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 and the narrow vision could only see one way. Throw 
 down the challenge and go into battle without count- 
 ing the cost, or placing the cause into the scales and 
 taking time to let it balance ? 
 
 Never had they held such a meeting in the display 
 of true manhood. It was not a radical, unreasonable, 
 unjust denunciation of the men who employed them, 
 but a spirit of nobility and desire to come to a right- 
 eous reconciliation. 
 
 The rule is that there is only one result to that feel- 
 ing in the soul, whether in factory or home, Church 
 or State, on earth or in heaven. There may be excep- 
 tions, but the rule remains. 
 
 That meeting, long to be remembered by every man 
 who was there, lasted until twelve o'clock at night, 
 with the victorious result of the appointment of a 
 committee, consisting of Henry Fielding, James 
 Watts and the Rev. David Dowling, to go at once to 
 the employers and strive to adjust the affair satisfac- 
 torily to both sides. 
 
 The conclusion had been reached that it was more 
 misunderstanding than fault on either side. It was 
 the new way of doing it, but it was unquestionably the 
 right way. 
 
 If war is ever righteous anywhere, it can only be 
 so as the last resort in securing justice. There is a 
 better way first. This was that better way. 
 
 It was a new experience for David Dowling again, 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 183 
 
 but he was not the man to hesitate now. He had 
 passed that, and was rather anxious to serve the 
 workingmen in any possible way, and this had been 
 one of the dreams of the past weeks : "Why not the 
 preacher, the man supposed to be nearest Christ, act 
 as a peacemaker?" he had asked himself, and they did 
 not know it, but he was ready for the opportunity to 
 try this Christ method in labor disputes, as well as in 
 every other place. 
 
 The very next morning', as soon as the information 
 reached him, he went to the factory, and at noontime 
 the three entered the private office by appointment 
 for the conference. 
 
 The conversation was almost too sacred to be re- 
 peated. 
 
 The revelation of kindness and good intent was be- 
 yond their expectation. Neither the members of the 
 firm, nor the superintendent displayed any ill feeling, 
 much less any anger. 
 
 They said they would rather keep their old men, 
 but only insisted in running their own business in 
 their own way, which they would guarantee them 
 was always in the interests of their employees, as well 
 as themselves. They tried to make it plain that the 
 introduction of new machinery was essential to suc- 
 cess there, and even to the keeping of the factory run- 
 ning. They had to be up with the times. It was a 
 case of necessity, and not selfishness. Quality and 
 
184 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 quantity of work must be turned out, and where it 
 changed the hands about, and in some cases demanded 
 a less number, it would in the end result for the good 
 of all. 
 
 They finally agreed to keep them all, at least for 
 the present, and see what the future demanded. 
 
 One of the employers spoke up and said : 
 
 "I don't honestly believe that I want to see your 
 families suffer any more than I do my own. I am 
 willing to sacrifice for the good of every faithful man 
 in this factory, but you don't know how I have 
 passed my nights this last year. I have worked all 
 my life up to this point, and it looked dark many 
 days at noonday. We have made just half this year 
 what we made two years ago. Of course, it is not 
 our business to tell our men all that, but not one of 
 them has lost a dollar of his wages this year, even 
 if I have lost a part of that which I gave my whole 
 life to secure." 
 
 His partner interrupted, and said: 
 
 "Yes, I have wished sometimes that I was one of 
 the men in our employ instead of having this load on 
 my hands." 
 
 Henry explained the position of the men as best he 
 could, and said it looked so much different from their 
 standpoint, but he believed every man of them, when 
 the report was returned, would do the right thing, 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 185 
 
 and would be more content in the future — at least, 
 not so quick to condemn. 
 
 Mr. Dowling told them of his confidence in the 
 victory of the Christ spirit. While they might not 
 be members of the Church, it nevertheless remained 
 true everywhere that the principles and example of 
 the Saviour of men were destined to triumph. They 
 need not fear them, nor regard them as something 
 foreign to a labor union or a factory. It was the very 
 intent of the Gospel to settle all these things for the 
 good of all. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, "I never felt so much in my 
 life the possibility of bringing the Christ into all the 
 relations of life, and sweetening them by His divine 
 influence. I used to preach a Gospel. I am now 
 going to preach the Gospel — yes, and practice it, 
 too, God help me." 
 
 There were three men in the firm, but only one of 
 them was a Christian. Not a word was said, but if 
 silence ever gave consent it was at that moment. 
 Every man in the room was saying in the secret 
 quiet of his own soul, "There is a better way — this 
 is it." 
 
 Misunderstanding and misrepresentation are twin 
 demons standing between capital and labor and work- 
 ing night and day in their diabolical efforts to bring 
 up the forces of either side in battle array. A calm 
 consideration and a Christian charity would settle 
 
1 86 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 almost every contention and strife in the industrial 
 world. Wise and unselfish arbitration would change 
 the whole aspect of each individual case by itself, and 
 the whole horizon of the world of labor — yes, it 
 would drive every cloud from the sky, and heaven's 
 own blue would reflect a world of peace and love. 
 
 Union No. 10 had learned its greatest lesson in 
 an hour of sublimest experience. Their employers 
 discovered their fault and made most sacred prom- 
 ises. The relations were never so harmonious, and 
 the contentment was never so sweet. 
 
 The next Sunday evening two of the firm and the 
 superintendent were in Mr. Dowling's church, re- 
 vealing their respect for him, and appreciation of his 
 action in behalf of the men. They did not condemn 
 him for coming in the committee of the men, but 
 honored him for it, and wanted to hear him. They 
 had said to each other : "He is a manly fellow, dif- 
 ferent from some ministers. He does not live in his 
 pulpit. He lives among men. He is not one of your 
 droning, sniveling specimens. He is alive." 
 
 That was the very Sunday evening when one of the 
 greatest manifestations of the power of the Divine 
 Spirit of God's direct answer to prayer were given to 
 David Dowling. 
 
 It had been a simple Gospel sermon about the 
 young man who had kept the whole law, and to whom 
 Christ said, "One thing thou lackest." He was dra- 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 187 
 
 matic in his style, and his picture of this scene and 
 a demonstration of Christ's anxiety and love for the 
 noble fellow was most vivid. 
 
 When he came to the tragedy of the scene, where 
 the young man would not surrender, and went away 
 in sorrow, it seemed as if everybody in the building 
 could see the very event itself. 
 
 One of Mr. Dowling's hearers saw himself in his 
 morality going away from Christ, and in sorrow, too. 
 It was Henry Fielding. He was saying to himself: 
 
 "It is myself, it is myself. That is just what I 
 have done; I am doing it to-night. Why not give 
 up? — I am in the wrong." 
 
 A hundred times the same thoughts and convic- 
 tions shot through his very soul. He tried to drive 
 them away, or at least not let his feelings be apparent 
 to any one else. 
 
 Immediately after the service, Grace came up to 
 him, and with the same expression of delight to meet 
 him, she said : 
 
 "Oh, was not that a splendid sermon ? How strik- 
 ing the picture !" 
 
 Henry had moved a half-dozen times while she was 
 saying only those few words, but not away from her. 
 He hastened to make some response about her 
 father's health, as he had been ill for some time. 
 
 She answered him, but was too much interested 
 in something else just then. She came to say it. 
 
1 88 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 She hesitated. She said, "I will," and then looked 
 into his face, and said: 
 
 "Mr. Fielding, I wish you were a Christian." 
 
 Henry was never so bewildered in his life. He 
 did not expect it from her. He could not just realize 
 it. He did not know what to say. He turned his 
 head away for a second, and then looked in her eyes, 
 only to discover a tear. 
 
 It was a more brilliant and valuable jewel than the 
 diamonds in her ears, or the ruby upon her fingers. 
 What could he say? There was only one thing 
 to say. 
 
 If he would be honest before a girl who dared to 
 do that, and before the girl whom he even dared to 
 love, he must say only the one thing. 
 
 In a partial whisper, he replied : 
 
 "I wish I was, too, but do not talk about it to- 
 night. You have said enough," he continued. 
 
 Just then, in the plan of God, Elsie appeared, and 
 said: 
 
 "Henry, are you most ready to go?" 
 
 "I am afraid not yet. I wonder if you could not 
 go alone to-night, sister. I want to see Mr. Dowling 
 before I go, and I do not know how long I shall be." 
 
 "Certainly," said she. 
 
 "I will see her half way," said Grace. 
 
 "Yes, we will take care of each other," added Elsie. 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 189 
 
 Henry turned away as if anxious to go, and very 
 nervous in every movement. 
 
 "I wonder what he wants of Mr. Dowling to- 
 night," said Elsie. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Grace, "you let them go. 
 I think I know." 
 
 "I can guess what you mean; I am so glad. Do 
 you mean that he wants to talk to Mr. Dowling about 
 becoming a Christian ?" asked Elsie. 
 
 "Yes, that's just it, and we will both pray for him. 
 I know it will be all right," said Grace, with a 
 mingling of earnestness and joy. 
 
 Henry had already approached Mr. Dowling, and 
 before he had opportunity to make his desire known, 
 the warm hand of the preacher had grasped his, and 
 the warm heart had gone out after him again, as 
 often before, and now the direction of the Spirit was 
 heeded, and he said : 
 
 "Henry, I was preaching to you to-night. Christ 
 loves you. You were that young man, moral and 
 good, but you are going away from Jesus, and I 
 know you are not happy, either. Why not make the 
 surrender? You know what is right — do it, and do it 
 right away. If you have faults to find with me and 
 the Church, forget them now. You cannot find any 
 fault with Christ." 
 
 Mr. Dowling was going on in his enthusiastic ex- 
 
190 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 hortation and plea, when Henry, with his eyes to the 
 floor, interrupted, and said : 
 
 "I have not as much fault to find as formerly. 
 You can depend upon that. I was mostly in the 
 wrong — I did not understand. Yes, I did not under- 
 stand myself, nor you, nor the Church, nor Christ, 
 nor anything else, as I should. I look at it differ- 
 ently now." 
 
 "I am so glad to hear that," said Mr. Dowling. 
 "Come into my room for a moment, won't you ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, in a manly, determined tone of 
 voice. 
 
 As they walked toward the door of his room, Mr. 
 Dowling said : 
 
 "I am very tired to-night, but I will stay here all 
 night, Henry, if you will only give your heart to 
 Christ." 
 
 When once the door closed behind them, and the 
 key was turned in the lock, Henry Fielding felt that 
 he had never really understood a minister. 
 
 What occurred ought to be only for angel vision. 
 It was just like Christ with the young man, or Nico- 
 demus in the night-time. They were both honest 
 and earnest, and in such a case the result is inevit- 
 able. 
 
 Mr. Dowling simply opened his heart at the first, 
 and told of the meaning and the power of Christ in 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 191 
 
 his own life. How temptation and sin swarmed 
 around him, the same as any other man. He said : 
 
 "Henry, don't think that I live in a different world 
 from yours ; and that what is real to me, will not be 
 so to you. You will have one enemy to fight, and I 
 will have another, 'but His grace is sufficient.' You 
 do not know what I pass through in battle, but I am 
 determined to have a character at whatever cost to 
 am determined to have a character at any cost, to 
 anything else in my life. I used to be anxious for a 
 reputation, and even was so low in my aim at one 
 time that I wanted only a good salary, but all that is 
 changed. I am crying to God every day to make me 
 like Christ, and I will pay the price. This is always 
 part of my prayer, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee, e'en 
 though it be a cross that raiseth me.' I have even 
 told Him to take my health, or loved ones, or any- 
 thing, only leave me in the image and likeness of 
 Christ. You do not know what a struggle is in my 
 life. Just look at this one peril of the minister. He 
 is so tempted to be jealous of the other men. You 
 would think that might be the last fault. He ought 
 to rejoice in the prosperity of every church and every 
 preacher, but there is the difficulty. The other man 
 has a larger audience, or more conversions, seem- 
 ingly greater prosperity. Then jealousy mounts the 
 throne of my heart, and demands my subjection. I 
 have been a slave, but, God helping me, I never will 
 
192 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 be again. This world is large enough for my neigh- 
 bor and myself both, but the old and mean feeling 
 keeps coming up when he seems to have the best, 
 and the tendency to injure him pushes its foul self 
 to the front. Now, Henry, some of these things may 
 not seize you with such a relentless grip, and other 
 things may be more powerful in your life. The 
 enemy is there, facing us all with a boldness which 
 only wickedness possesses, but I want you to know 
 that Christianity is not only for the preacher, but 
 for every man. I am first a man, and just like your- 
 self." 
 
 Henry sat with eyes fastened apparently upon a 
 picture hanging at the side of the room, but it was 
 not there to him. It was all blank wall. He was 
 listening to every word from the lips of one whom he 
 respected most, and whose spirit was now making 
 him seem nearer every moment. 
 
 He wanted to do right, and was an honest seeker 
 after truth, but to him the new birth as yet seemed 
 mysterious and unreal. 
 
 He was doing the best he could ,he thought, and 
 what more does a new birth mean? 
 
 "Now," Mr. Dowling said, "there is one thing you 
 lack." 
 
 "What is that?" asked he. 
 
 "That is conversion." 
 
 "Just what do you mean by that ?" queried Henry. 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 193 
 
 "Except you be converted, and become as a little 
 child, you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 "Yes ; but what is conversion ?" 
 
 "Only this, Henry. Convert means to turn around 
 — face about. You have your eyes Howard yourself 
 and your own moral life, and even your sin. You 
 must turn around and face Christ. That is all. 
 Trust Him, love Him, and serve Him. One side of 
 that great act is faith, and the other side is repent- 
 ance. You repent of your sin, and you trust in 
 Christ as your Saviour. Is that not simple? This is 
 the meaning of Calvary to you. This is the divine 
 plan of salvation for us all. You may not live much 
 differently in the future outwardly, but you will live 
 with a different disposition and a new spirit. It is 
 just giving up to God's way, in sorrow, for all the 
 sin of your life. Isn't that simplicity itself? The 
 great mystery of the universe, and yet a child can 
 understand how to say 'sorry' to God. I asked my 
 little boy Will, eight years old, when he gave his 
 heart to Jesus, and instantly he replied, 'Why, papa, 
 ever since I first heard of Him.' Was not that beau- 
 tiful? Why do not all men treat the Saviour like 
 that?" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Dowling, I am ready, in as far as I 
 know, to do it. This has been creeping over me for 
 some weeks — in fact, ever since I first began coming 
 to church, and I have been awake many times in the 
 
194 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 night this last week, and have even tried to pray my- 
 self right." 
 
 "This is all, Henry; just this prayer now settles it 
 ror eternity : 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner, for 
 Christ's sake.' That is coming to Christ, and that is 
 going to heaven. 'He that believeth hath everlast- 
 ing life.' " 
 
 They knelt at the same chair. The hand of Mr. 
 Dowling rested on the farther shoulder of his com- 
 panion, and great tears dropped from four eyes to the 
 floor. 
 
 Angels carried the news to the city of God, and 
 there was rejoicing around the throne. 
 
 Elsie was awake when Henry came in, but she was 
 in her room, and refrained from telling him her joy, 
 or asking the one important question. Never had 
 her heart such an effort to control her lips, but she 
 did, and it was best. 
 
 In the morning there was a strange occurrence. 
 No, it was almost the ordinary one, but, alas, always 
 unexpected. 
 
 Henry anticipated that everything was going bet- 
 ter. 
 
 Elsie expected a new world, but the great tempter 
 was planning his best work. He always does. 
 
 For the first time in a year, the alarm clock did 
 not awaken Henry. In his excitement the night be- 
 fore, he had forgotten to wind it. When his eyes 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 195 
 
 opened in the morning, he was half an hour late. 
 All things were in their wrong places, and haste only 
 made waste. 
 
 Just before he was going away, Henry said some- 
 thing to his sister, which had in it only the shadow of 
 unkindliness, but it was a sword as large as the one of 
 Goliath thrust into her tender heart. 
 
 She could hardly control her feelings, and the door 
 closed with more of a bang than usual, and he was 
 gone. 
 
 Elsie sat down, and had it out the girl's way— a 
 good cry was a relief. 
 
 Henry could have done the same, if he dared. He 
 said : 
 
 "There can be no reality in what I did last night. 
 I am not a Christian yet, or I would not have said 
 that to her. She did not do anything. It was all my 
 own fault, and I am glad that I did not tell her about 
 my new life before I tried it." 
 
 Henry Fielding was in the warfare that they had 
 talked about, and his enemy was doing his very best 
 to conquer. 
 
 This was the last opportunity. 
 That was the longest and hardest day he ever had, 
 but it was a day of victory, because he had stamped 
 his foot a score of times, and said, "I will." 
 
 As soon as he entered their home that night, he 
 
196 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 did not place his hat before he went to Elsie's side, 
 and said in tenderest tones : 
 
 "Elsie, I want you to forgive me." 
 
 That was the greatest evidence of his conversion, 
 but he did not realize it. 
 
 She sat down and had to cry again. 
 
 There was something else in it now, and when her 
 brother attempted to comfort her, she only said : 
 "Wait a minute, and I will tell you." 
 
 Then she told him of her happiness ; that they were 
 tears of deepest joy, because he had become a Chris- 
 tian. She knew it, even though he had not told her, 
 and she said : "Your doing this, which you never did 
 before, is the best proof. Your coming to me in this 
 Christ-like way tells the whole story. Now, I can 
 reveal another secret to you. I could not tell you 
 before; I was afraid you would not bear it, as I 
 know you will now. You can bear all things now 
 through Christ, and I am sure this will be such a 
 sorrow and disappointment to you. You have been 
 so good to me, and such a noble brother. You have 
 made so many sacrifices for me and my music les- 
 sons. I have done my best to learn, and you know 
 how far I have advanced, especially with my last 
 teacher, but every time your hard-earned money 
 went to pay for the lessons, I felt as if I was guilty of 
 a crime, and now this is the saddest part of it." 
 
 "I will bear it, and no* care. What do you mean ?" 
 
Henry Fielding's Conversion. 197 
 
 he asked, as she made the slightest pause. "Tell 
 me," he said, anxiously, as he rose and looked down 
 at her. 
 
 "I have been waiting for weeks to tell you, and I 
 don't want you to feel badly." 
 
 Then she held up her hand in front of him. 
 
 "What do you mean?" again he asked. 
 
 "Do you not see, Henry, how the two middle fin- 
 gers are getting out of shape." 
 
 Henry looked puzzled, and asked again : 
 
 "Elsie, do you really mean that there is something 
 the matter with your hand?" 
 
 "Yes, Henry; I have been to the doctors, and it 
 has only been growing worse. It is rheumatism, and 
 is coming in the other hand, too. They say it is in 
 the joints, and this is the bitterest drop in the cup 
 for me, that all your money and sacrifice have been 
 thrown away." 
 
 "Now, Elsie, wait ; this cannot all be as you think. 
 Something can be done for it, I am sure." 
 
 "No, they all say the same thing, and I have been 
 just as careful as I possibly could. I have tried 
 everything, but it has all failed. I waited until I was 
 sure before I told you. It increases slowly, but there 
 is an increase all the time. I have not taken any les- 
 sons for two weeks. It is no use any more. I will be 
 satisfied, Henry, if you will only bear the disappoint- 
 ment. I can stand anything now, since you are a 
 
198 Henry Fielding's Conversion. 
 
 Christian. This is only a part of what Christ suf- 
 fered for us both." 
 
 "You are the bravest, best girl in the world, worth 
 a dozen others, and I shall x*ever regret any gift to 
 you; but I believe there is hope yet. We will try 
 every remedy before we give up." 
 
 Henry did not realize it, but it was rheumatism, 
 and Elsie's worst fears were to come to pass. She 
 never played the piano after that night. The disease 
 continued its ravages until she was crippled for life, 
 but she was a queen among women, because of her 
 Christian fortitude and faith. 
 
 She set a bright example for all the world who 
 knew her. 
 
 Patience and trust, the sweetest, rested in every 
 feature of her face, and in every move of her crippled 
 form. 
 
 What a strange day this had been for Henry, the 
 first day after his conversion. No, it was not strange ; 
 it was only part of real life. The bridge was built. 
 This was the weight to test it, before the security 
 was certain. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 the: chasm bridged. 
 
 One year and a part of the second has passed into 
 the records of a Christian life, since Henry Fielding's 
 conversion. 
 
 Never was there a more kingly attitude assumed 
 in a man's relation to the Master of men than he car- 
 ried into every part of his life. His spirit and cour- 
 age won the admiration of all his fellow-workmen, 
 and, during these short months, his influence had 
 brought several of them into the Church. 
 
 Richard was one of the first to come under that 
 power, which is almost beyond resistance — a manly, 
 Christian character. 
 
 Henry did not talk it much, but how beautifully 
 he lived it, and revealed the possibility in every work- 
 ingman's life. 
 
 His constant effort was to bring the Church in the 
 right light before the men and the union, and in- 
 crease the solidity of the confidence in the minister, 
 and his interest in them and their work. 
 
 This had grown upon them all, and David Dowling 
 had come to be a potent factor in the organization. 
 They no longer shivered in his presence, but now 
 
2oo The Chasm Bridged. 
 
 crowded up to his great warm heart, as to an open 
 fireplace in a world's winter. 
 
 Henry Fielding's life had completely changed 
 within a few short months. The change was almost 
 as great as a move from earth to the planet Mars — 
 perhaps greater, for, after all, would that be so great ? 
 
 Time is the large element in life's changes, and 
 in unraveling mysteries and revealing destiny. Yes- 
 terday and to-day are not all. That makes a puzzle 
 without an answer. 
 
 Henry had learned to say "to-morrow," and to be- 
 lieve in the future of a conscientious and sacrificial 
 life. 
 
 Only a short period of time had intervened be- 
 tween the present condition, under a starry sky, and 
 the first moment when he looked into the face of 
 Grace Chalmers, and saw what his eyes had never 
 seen before, and what no one else saw at that in- 
 stant. 
 
 Those are visions not to be described, and feel- 
 ings enveloped in too great a sanctity for exhibition. 
 
 But as no one knew what his eyes carried into the 
 deeps of his soul, so no one knew the bitter con- 
 demnation of himself, and the imagination that there 
 was something wrong with his head as well as his 
 heart. 
 
 He almost instantly saw a great chasm appear be- 
 tween himself and his ideal of woman. 
 
The Chasm Bridged. 201 
 
 As the days passed, that deep, wide and dark ob- 
 struction seemed to grow deeper and wider and 
 darker, but there are bridges over such depths. The 
 world is not made to doom man to disappointment, 
 and to cruelly mock him. Heroic honesty in life, and 
 character, and purpose, is an architect almost divine. 
 
 Not all the reward of sacrifice is reserved for the 
 upper world. In the plan and providence of God, 
 the earth is good enough for some of it. 
 
 He had given himself in sublimest sacrifice for 
 Elsie and others. He had unhesitatingly taken the 
 bright star of hope from his own sky, and transferred 
 it to hers. The money saved for himself and for the 
 purchase of his ambitious dream, was lovingly laid 
 in her hand. It was not lost. Even rheumatism 
 could not be the robber. It was the most righteous 
 and profitable investment. Dividends were never to 
 be withheld. 
 
 The old home in Vermont had been sold, the in- 
 debtedness upon it paid, and the remnant c f the 
 money used to purchase a small, but beautiful, home 
 for them in the suburbs of the city. 
 
 The change from the crowded and unattractive 
 third-story rooms into this new and comfortable 
 place was one of the strands for the bridge over the 
 chasm. It was not accident or chance. It was in- 
 tended. It brought him and Grace Chalmers nearer 
 
202 The Chasm Bridged. 
 
 together. There was distance and depth yet, but it 
 was not so great. 
 
 There was another cable for the bridge, when 
 Henry was promoted to the position of foreman in 
 his department. It was one of the greatest surprises 
 of his life, and still no one was more worthy of it. 
 
 For years his fidelity had never been relaxed. His 
 quick eye and hand learned with great rapidity. It 
 was most appropriate now that his ability and loyalty 
 should be recognized. 
 
 The foreman had lost his position through some 
 disagreement with the men and his employers both, 
 and no greater astonishment could have been met 
 than that of Henry when he was summoned to the 
 office, and asked to accept the position. His salary 
 was multiplied by three. 
 
 That elevation brought him nearer to the young 
 woman whom he had ventured in almost audacity to 
 more than admire. 
 
 During the year her father, who had been ill for 
 several months, had died. His pride, which would 
 have been the greatest obstacle, was thus removed. 
 He had spoken to Henry, and even engaged in short 
 conversation with him at the church, but never 
 dreamed of the great secret in his heart. 
 
 This was the most gigantic barrier of all, and now 
 the chasm was narrowing. 
 
 But the largest and strongest cable in the bridge 
 
The Chasm Bridged. 203 
 
 was his own surrender to Christ. There was not 
 anything in the world so powerful in winning Grace 
 Chalmers as the might and attraction of character. 
 
 She had liked Henry Fielding before. That sur- 
 face element was changing into something deeper 
 now. Her religion was the most real part of her life. 
 It was the best part of any other life, in her estima- 
 tion. 
 
 Her father had left her a small fortune in her own 
 right, but she did not think of that, like most rich 
 girls, as being the real value and the wealth of the 
 world. To her, that was secondary to the eternal 
 values. 
 
 If many girls of her standing in society were 
 frivolous, and recognized not the wealth of goodness, 
 she was not alone in her position. There are many 
 young women, with fortunes of their own, who are 
 not all for society, and show, and sham. She was not 
 the exception. She was only a representative of a 
 number. 
 
 She often said : "I care not what others do. I 
 am first going to serve God, and in order to serve 
 Him, I must serve others. That is the only way I 
 can be like Him, or show my love for Him. I must 
 live for God, by living for others. There is no other 
 way." 
 
 What a simple thought, and yet it is the sublimest 
 
204 The Chasm Bridged. 
 
 philosophy of the world. It is Christianity — it only 
 is Christianity. 
 
 Her own disposition and life was the greatest cable 
 of all in the bridge. Reality could be in Henry 
 Fielding's dream, because she was what she was. 
 
 Each day had added something to the strength of 
 the unseen bridge, until the eventful and fateful night 
 in December. 
 
 Henry ventured to step upon it, and cross to her 
 side. To the deepest joy of his soul, and almost the 
 deepest surprise, it did not break. 
 
 He had kept the precious secret for a whole day, 
 and was making it known to Elsie the next evening, 
 when suddenly there came a slight knock upon the 
 door. 
 
 "I wonder why they don't ring the bell," said 
 she, as she rose to go. 
 
 "Never mind, it is hard for you to get up. I will 
 go," said Henry, and started for the door, without 
 waiting for the bell. 
 
 What amazement as he looked out into the blind- 
 ing snowstorm, now drifting all over the porch, to 
 see a pale, emaciated, and almost frozen form in the 
 doorway. A young man, so changed, but not be- 
 yond recognition. It was Will, their brother. 
 
 For an instant, Henry forgot his awful crime, and 
 welcomed him as if nothing had ever happened. 
 He seized him by the hand, and with the other hand 
 
The Chasm Bridged. 205 
 
 upon his left arm, almost drew him across the 
 threshold. 
 
 Elsie was near the two brothers in an instant, and 
 threw her crippled arms about his neck and kissed 
 him. 
 
 She then flung herself into a chair, and sobbed as 
 if her heart would break. 
 
 He seemed speechless, and too cold to talk. 
 
 They warmed him, and fed him, and waited patient- 
 ly for explanation. 
 
 He commenced several times to tell the awful 
 tragedy of these months of his life, but Henry and 
 Elsie both kept saying : 
 
 "Wait, now, until you get warm. We have time 
 enough." 
 
 But at last it came, and in such pathos, that they 
 all wept together, as he pleaded for their forgiveness. 
 He kept on saying : "I did not mean to do it. I did 
 not know what I was doing. It was the poison that 
 I had been drinking. Oh, God forgive me," he cried. 
 "I have been in the place which they say is the doom 
 of the lost. I know what it is. Remorse — remorse — 
 remorse. No one can describe it. No one knows. I 
 could not stand it longer. Now, I want to suffer the 
 penalty. I am not only willing to, but I want to. I 
 must." 
 
 He told them of the horror of that night in their 
 old home. How he had fled, and walked, and ridden, 
 
206 The Chasm Bridged. 
 
 and hidden, all the way into Canada. There he con- 
 cealed himself and his crime for months until con- 
 science had driven him almost mad and made him 
 feel that death was preferable to such a life. Neither 
 a Hugo nor a Hawthorne ever made the picture of 
 an awakened conscience too vivid. It is reality. It 
 is suffering beyond all human agony. It had almost 
 changed every feature of the man. It had forced its 
 way into every drop of blood in his veins. It came 
 as reality in the daytime, and as a ghost to frighten 
 in the darkness. He could not escape. Conscience 
 discovered his hiding-place, and forced him to seek 
 another, only to instantly frighten and condemn him 
 again. 
 
 "Oh," said he, "I wished I had done like George 
 Roebling." He was one of their old neighbors, and 
 went to school with them. They had been constant 
 playmates in childhood. 
 
 "What did he do?" asked Henry. 
 
 "Why do you not know. He became a drunkard, 
 too, but he did not strike his mother. He went 
 away to the West to make his fortune, and gave great 
 promises to his mother as to how he was going to 
 come after her, and care for her all her life. But, 
 instead of getting rich, he went into bad company, 
 and, step by step, went down until he was the lowest 
 of the low, a drunken tramp, and thus he wandered 
 all the way back home to his mother, who had not 
 
The Chasm Bridged. 207 
 
 seen him for years, or heard from him. She re- 
 ceived him into the old home, and cared for him, and 
 told him to stay until he had conquered his appetite 
 and temptation. 
 
 "One morning she gave him some money to go 
 over the mountain, to a town where they were hold- 
 ing temperance meetings, and many men were being 
 saved. He went, and she told us how she kissed him 
 good-by and waved her handkerchief to him as far 
 as she could see him, and then went back in the house 
 and prayed as she had never prayed before. 
 
 "When he reached the place rain was falling, with 
 a mixture of snow. He had no overcoat or umbrella. 
 He went to the church, and it was closed. He tried 
 to find the speaker, and could not. It was only four 
 o'clock in the afternoon— four hours still before the 
 meeting was to be held. No door was open to him, 
 except the door of a saloon. He went in, and wrote 
 a note to his mother like this/' and Will could hardly 
 
 push the words across his lips : " 'Dear Mother I 
 
 am cold and wet. The church is closed. Everything 
 is closed except the saloon. I am in the same misery. 
 The old appetite is back again. I have been drink- 
 ing; there is no hope for me. I know you will for- 
 give me. It is for your sake as well as my own. 
 Forgive me. Your boy, George." 
 
 "When he had written this note, he reached across 
 
208 The Chasm Bridged. 
 
 the bar, and seized a revolver which was lying there, 
 and sent a bullet crashing through his brain. 
 
 "God knows that story was sad enough, but how 
 much worse is mine ? Would to Heaven I had killed 
 myself before I struck the best woman who ever 
 lived, but now I must pay for the crime. I have paid 
 in part, but now I will pay it all." 
 
 He paused a moment, and then said : 
 
 "I did not come to trouble you. I will not dis- 
 grace you any more than I have. But I came this 
 way to see you and ask forgiveness, and then go and 
 give myself up." 
 
 "Oh, my," said Elsie, "you shall not do that. Can- 
 not there be something done ?" 
 
 Henry sat with his eyes to the table, and did not 
 know what to say. 
 
 Elsie continued : "I will do anything for you. 
 We will give up the home, or anything, rather than 
 have you do that." 
 
 "No," said he, as he clenched his hand in firm- 
 ness, and bit his lip. "I must do that, and only that. 
 I cannot hide any longer. I must face the penalty." 
 
 Henry looked up, and said : "I would not see you 
 suffer if I could help it, and you have my fullest for- 
 giveness, but what other way is there out ?" 
 
 "There is none," said he. "I do not want any. If 
 I am paying the price of my crime, it will be the 
 first and only peace I can get." 
 
The Chasm Bridged. 209 
 
 He remained with them only that one night. All 
 persuasion failed, and his determination was imme- 
 diately carried out. 
 
 The hard master, conscience, was obeyed. 
 
 The sentence of life imprisonment was the pen- 
 alty, and the law of the harvest was proven again. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IS THIS A DR^AM? 
 
 The week before a new home was to be estab- 
 lished, and the harmony of two hearts united to make 
 the sweetest music on earth, Henry was awakened in 
 the night, at the end of a strikingly real dream. 
 
 It was one of those clear visions of the night hour, 
 which seemed to possess almost as great, if not great- 
 er, reality than that which the eyes see in brightest 
 light. 
 
 Everybody recognizes the experience of a sudden 
 start and wakefulness in the night, and the first won- 
 der — whether it is a dream or actual life. 
 
 He could hardly make himself believe he was not 
 just what this peculiar part of human life had made 
 him think he was. So vivid had been the lightning 
 flash in the darkness that it kept his eyes open for an 
 hour, and his thoughts rushing against and tumbling 
 over each other. This dream might have had an in- 
 troduction in the hours of some day, but he did not 
 recognize it. 
 
 He had now seen himself suddenly transferred 
 from foreman in the factory to the place of owner 
 
Is This a Dream? 2ix 
 
 and employer. Something like this had once been 
 the star in his sky, but he had thought it a shooting 
 star, and that it had fulfilled its mission and disap- 
 peared forever. He had changed his plan of invest- 
 ment, and all his savings had been placed in Elsie's 
 life. 
 
 That was a mystery now, but it was the greatest 
 treasure he ever had in this world or the next. 
 
 The strangest thing in human existence is the 
 working of Providence, but it is, none the less, a cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 Plan, purpose and prayer do not always return in 
 the same garments in which we dress them, as we 
 send them out on their holy errand, but they return 
 laden with richer blessing than hope or faith dared 
 expect. 
 
 Henry Fielding had now at last reached his ideal, 
 and desire had been satisfied, but it was a dream. 
 Something only for a night, and a disappointment — 
 a mushroom instead of an oak. 
 
 In his dreams he saw himsef at the head of a great 
 business, conducting it on Chrisitian principles, and 
 securing the interest and sympathy of all his em- 
 ployees. He had discovered the great secret. There 
 was no clashing, and no outburst of jealousy. There 
 were no bitter, biting sentiments being uttered on 
 either side. There were no strikes, and no possibility 
 
212 Is This a Dream? 
 
 of them. The spirit of Christ was not foreign to the 
 spirit of successful commercial enterprise. The 
 Golden Rule and the Sermon on the Mount were not 
 enemies of the employer or employees, either one. 
 
 That which awakened him was the sound of his 
 own voice, and he was saying, "Heaven bless your 
 union. Our interests are one." 
 
 He held the secret of his dream, but it would not 
 say good-by to either his memory or imagination. 
 
 The day before the joyful sound of the wedding 
 bells he had revealed the strange vision to Grace, 
 and said he wished he might, for her sake, as well as 
 his own, change his position, and attempt to reach 
 the ideal of his life. 
 
 They were one in spirit and desire, to reveal Christ 
 to the world, and especially to the workingmen. 
 Never did two hearts carry sweeter love. There was 
 no chasm — his wish was hers. 
 
 The proposition was made by her that a part of 
 her money be used in the purchase of a site and the 
 erection of buildings suitable for the same business 
 as that in which he was now engaged, and that he be 
 at the head of it, to try the effect of the Gospel, and 
 example of Christ in every department of it. 
 
 After two years of hardest toil and almost rigid 
 exemplification of the principles of his Christian life, 
 Henry Fielding stood in the presence of all his em- 
 ployees, to say: 
 
Is Tliis a Dream? 213 
 
 "The plan which has been adopted here so far will 
 be continued. We will meet every six months, and 
 talk over the interests of this business, because its 
 welfare concerns you just as much as it does me. I 
 propose that you shall have your just share of its 
 profits. I shall not hold any selfish secret from you. 
 I am not only willing, but desirous, that you shall 
 know the condition of the business, and that you 
 shall pass your opinion concerning the share which 
 you think you should receive. 
 
 "The risk is mine, the plan and strain are mine, 
 and I am confident that you will recognize all this. 
 I am willing to trust you, and when I cannot, I must 
 cease to conduct the business. I take you into my 
 confidence, and I want you to call this your business!. 
 I do not believe much in some kinds of co-operation. 
 Most all of the attempts in calculating and mathe- 
 matical methods have failed ; but I do believe in this 
 kind of co-operation, and it is a vital part of my 
 Christianity. If I cannot do business right, I will not 
 do it at all. If I cannot do it as a Christian, I will 
 not do it at all. If I cannot do it with your love, and 
 deepest interest and satisfaction, I do not wish to do 
 it at all. The little money that is in it is of minor 
 and trivial importance. Of what value is money, 
 when it rests in the selfish hand, or is the treasure of 
 a slave-holder? Money is only good to invest in 
 
214 Is This a Dream? 
 
 other lives, and in eternal interests. That is the way 
 I look at this business. It is the best channel for 
 mutual helpfulness. 
 
 "If you have any grievance, don't hold it, and in- 
 crease it, but come right to me, and we will talk it 
 over as brother men should. 
 
 "Shall you continue to have your union? Yes. 
 Make it just as valuable as you possibly can. Pro- 
 tect yourselves, and your fellow man. Protect your 
 skill ; secure the best legislation. Make the union an 
 educational factor. Increase its power for good. Give 
 the needy in it a share in your prosperity. Look after 
 the sick and the sorrowing. Do not lose sight of the 
 great object of your organization. I am not afraid 
 of it. It is a friend to my factory, if we do as I have 
 suggested, and as I have agreed to do by you. 
 Mutual understanding and mutual sympathy is our 
 salvation. 
 
 "I shake hands with every man of you, in a 
 righteous compact to do my part. When you come 
 to understand what it means to furnish the capital, 
 and the risk, and the brains, and the nervous strain, 
 you will not ask anything unjust. I wish you would 
 consider me a member of the union. Of course, I 
 cannot be, and yet, perhaps, that day will come — 
 anyway, when the employer might be an honorary 
 member. I don't see anything impossible or imprac- 
 
Is This a Dream? 215 
 
 ticable in my being at your meeting sometimes, or 
 you might consider these meetings, each six months, 
 as union meetings. I promise you it will be more for 
 your good than any other gathering of the organiza- 
 tion. At least, I want you all to count me as your 
 best friend." 
 
 "We will, sir," came from all over the room, and 
 in every man's heart there was an echo to every word 
 he had uttered. 
 
 As they were separating, Henry Fielding hastened 
 to one side of the room, to the side of a man who 
 carried sorrow in his face, and said : 
 
 "Charles, I am in sympathy with you in the great 
 loss of your little boy. I only heard of it to-day. I 
 had a little brother die of scarlet fever, and your 
 grief carried me right back to the old home and boy- 
 hood days. If I can serve you in any respect, I am 
 ready to do it." 
 
 As he turned away, some man who had overheard 
 the conversation whispered to another : "That man is 
 a Christian." 
 
 His men were not machines. He knew them as 
 best he could, and respected, yes, almost reverenced, 
 manhood wherever he saw it. 
 
 He recognized them when he saw them, and the 
 slight nod of the head brightened the world for a 
 workingman, and drove him toward better things, 
 
216 Is This a Dream? 
 
 and to the side of Christ, because he always felt, if 
 he did not say, "There goes a Christian." 
 
 The factory prospered. The men did not strike, 
 and it was at last proven that "Godliness was profit- 
 able unto all things." "Did not Christ belong to a 
 labor union ?" Was this a dream ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
REV. CHAS. M. SHELDON'S 
 
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